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39b3a45f91784d1585916d8201ba078f | ['437e27d592094e118c82cb06c0965e60'] | Losing Lance sends him into another spiral. By now he’s learned how to hide his _state_ , pretends he’s just sick, but he doesn’t know if he fools Arthur this time. In any case, Arthur lets him take a few days off for once, and Merlin spends the entire time in bed, sometimes under the blanket because They’re watching him. He knows who They are now — They’re not from his world, and They’re after him because he is too powerful. The tingling at the top of his spine lets him know They’re nearby.
His body is not his own, he knows that now too. Somehow, when he was running from Them, he got put into the wrong kind of body. At his very soul he is male, another thing he knows for sure. But he is also more than this body, this prison, this soft cage. His brain is yelling at him, physically it’s his _brain_ , and the words travel up his spine, and there are so many thoughts his head is so crowded and they’re all so fast. And now he remembers his body, the one that is not his, and thinks how disgusting it is to have one at all.
Now that Lance is gone, there is no one left to love him. He’s bad for everyone, he brings trouble everywhere he goes, and other people only bring him down anyway. _Shut the fuck up shut up shut up shut up you talk too much never talk again no one cares you’re too clumsy annoying out of it_
The sunlight is bright in his eyes, too bright, so he dives back under his blanket, leaving his feet exposed to danger as he pulls the blanket over his head. He tosses and turns for what feels like hours before he finally falls asleep with visions of violence repeating in his mind.
Three days later he is better. Gaius and Arthur give him knowing looks, though Arthur definitely does _not_ know what is really going on with Merlin, but at least he’s being nice for now. Life goes on, and Merlin waits for the next spiral, knows it will come sooner or later.
***
He’s seen a lot of violence since he came to Camelot. Really, it comes with the territory of being Arthur’s manservant. But nothing compares to the violence inside his head, the blood and fire and darkness living in him. His brain keeps telling him to bang bang bang his head against the wall until his brains spill out. Every time he closes his eyes he sees his butchered mother lying dead on the floor. His ribs seem to break every time he moves, so he lies still on his back and tries to breathe evenly.
To clear his head he goes for a walk, trying his best not to look suspicious as he slips into the darkness. He’s friendly with the guards, but one can never be too careful. He’s really not in the mood to be questioned.
The cold air cleanses him and the violent thoughts float away with the wind.
***
It’s bad all the time, but some days are just worse, for whatever reason. One day he doesn’t know who he is, another he has ghosts living inside him, others he just hates himself and his entire existence. He powers through, tells himself the next week will be better, and though it never is, he is willing to believe anything that will get him through each day. If Arthur knows how miserable he is, he says nothing. Merlin tries to stay positive, but he has been through so much, done so many things he wishes he could regret.
He does not deserve the power he has been given, he is well aware of this. It should have been given to someone else, someone who isn’t such a mess. How is _Merlin_ supposed to save Arthur? Besides that, how is he supposed to live another day with the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders? He has saved Arthur countless times, yes, but at what price, and when will it all come crashing down?
***
Camlann is when it all comes crashing down.
Merlin holds Arthur, a literal dead weight in his arms, and cries and screams for Kilgharrah to save him. He was right all along, his power should have been given to another, more capable man.
He has lost the only two people with whom he discussed his issues. His closest friend and the love of his life are gone… but Camelot remains. Arthur’s beloved kingdom and wife live on, and that’s reason enough to keep going. He has stayed strong for this long, given up so much for his friends, so why give in now? There is always a new mission, a new reason to stay alive.
He and Gwen drifted apart long ago, but now he has a chance to repair their friendship. It is a new day, a new era, and while Merlin can’t find it in him to live for himself, living for Arthur and Camelot is good enough for the time being. Nothing can stop the paranoia, and They will never leave him alone, but fuck it if he won’t push through.
Gwen helps. When everything is fuzzy, she helps ground him; when he cries because he’s someone else, she calms him down. She’s there when the world gets wavy, when he slips into alternate realities where everything is brighter, more colourful. She’s there until she’s not, and suddenly all his friends are dead and it’s time to move on.
***
Arthur returns on a Sunday. Merlin feels the lake tugging him towards it, and he goes without fuss. There he finds the water bubbling, and out of it rises Arthur, looking just as he did the day he died. There’s no time to cry, yet; first Merlin needs to help him out. He grabs Arthur’s hand, pulls him to the lakeside and collapses. | f5a45704e38c4bbead0a66f1925de54d | ['437e27d592094e118c82cb06c0965e60'] | _Why does it have to be now?_ Merlin wonders, wishing now more than ever that he had just gotten this over with long ago. It hasn’t been time, though. Maybe it still isn’t, but here, with Arthur so warm and real and just out of reach and Merlin’s secrets heavier than they’ve ever been, he can’t imagine he’ll ever—
“I have magic.” He has to force the words out, so much so that it’s as if someone has spoken them for him. Nothing has ever felt so surreal.
Arthur’s heavy gaze darkens, and he looks down but doesn’t dismiss Merlin. “If you don’t want me, you only had to tell me so. You know I won’t force you.”
Oh. Merlin really should have seen that coming. “No, Arthur, I— gods, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything, it’s not that.”
“Then why would you say that? Enlighten me, Merlin,” he yells, seeming to grow angry, but Merlin knows he’s just hurt and confused.
“Look,” he says softly, turning to the fire. He lifts his shaking hands and whispers a spell that draws the flames into the shape of a dragon. Hesitantly he looks back to Arthur, who in turn is giving him a look he’s never seen before. Merlin searches for fear, and maybe there’s some buried beneath the look of utter betrayal and _whatever else_ , but thankfully, he can’t find it.
At least Arthur isn’t afraid when he orders him to leave.
—•—
Merlin feels he lacks control of his own body as he changes into his sleep clothes. His limbs are loose, just barely managing to perform, but somehow he changes and to climbs into bed. He curls into himself as tightly as he can, arms hugging his legs, and he sleeps fitfully like this.
By morning, no knights have come to collect him, but he also hasn’t heard from Arthur. Is he meant to pretend the previous night never happened? Normally that wouldn’t surprise him, but surely this is too serious to ignore.
He gets his answer when Arthur barges in without bothering to knock. “You’re late!” is all he says before he exits as abruptly as he entered, leaving Merlin even more confused than he was before.
He readies himself for the day then sets off for Arthur’s chambers, still shaky from last night’s conversation. Part of him wishes he’d just kept his secret to himself like he’d gotten so used to doing, but when he looks past the fear and discomfort he knows it was the right thing to do. Things had to change eventually, and Merlin isn’t sure he could have gone on like that for much longer. Certainly their relationship could not have progressed with such a secret keeping them from a healthy relationship.
Merlin can’t bring himself to greet Arthur with a cheery “good morning” for once. This is different from all his other difficult mornings, and this time he can’t bring himself to fake anything, not anymore. Besides, it wouldn’t be right.
“Explain yourself,” Arthur says almost immediately. Merlin studies his face and finds no hints towards how he might be feeling. “Why did you never tell me?”
A small, bitter laugh escapes under his breath. He doesn’t blame Arthur, he never could, but that doesn’t mean the last decade had been a walk through the park. “I couldn’t. It would have ruined everything.”
“Why now, then? Suddenly you’re willing to ruin everything?”
“I told you I want you, and I meant it. But I couldn’t be with you until you knew the truth. It wouldn’t be right.” Merlin itches to move as he speaks, to begin his daily duties, but he won’t give in to the uneasiness. He stays where he is, looks Arthur in the eye as he speaks; this conversation is too important. He can’t risk Arthur misunderstanding any part of it. “I use my magic for you, only for you. I believe in the kingdom you wish to build. All I’ve ever wanted is to stand by you as you become the greatest king Camelot will ever know.”
At this point Arthur only looks frustrated. He wants to understand, Merlin supposes, but does not. “You could have just taken the crown from me and built the kingdom yourself. Morgana wanted to, so why not you, too?”
Merlin’s heart aches. Arthur has been betrayed so many times, and now it’s happened again. He wishes so badly that he could have been honest from the beginning, but that’s not worth dwelling on now. “Because I believe in _you_ , Arthur. It’s always been you.”
His face softens just barely, but Merlin doesn’t miss it. He continues when Arthur says nothing. “I don’t care about the power. That’s not why I do this.” The _I love you_ remains unspoken; this isn’t the right time. He hopes Arthur can read between the lines, figure it out himself.
“You love me,” Arthur says slowly, unsurely. More emotions have begun to show, but Merlin still can’t read any of them.
“Yes,” he says firmly. Arthur needs to know, he _has_ _to_.
“And your magic… you’ve practiced this entire time?”
There, they’re really getting somewhere! “It’s not exactly that I practice. I was born with it, and I’ve been using it since before I could even walk. I didn’t really have a choice.”
“Oh,” Arthur says softly, so softly it’s almost a whisper. “And you’ve been in Camelot… Merlin, you idiot, you could’ve gotten caught!”
He grins now, much more relaxed but still a bit on edge. “Safer than Ealdor ever was.”
“That’s why you left, then? You told me once you left because you didn’t fit in.”
Merlin’s smile falls. “Sort of.” He moves to sit on the edge of Arthur’s bed before continuing. “People there are suspicious of magic, sure, but it’s not outlawed, and they respect my mother. It’s… something else.”
Arthur groans. “You mean to tell me there’s more?”
“Sorry?” He tries to smile again, but it’s a bit too shaky to seem real. Revealing his magic was one thing, but this secret, this is another kind of difficult. Merlin’s magic always felt so natural, and despite his constant fear of getting caught, it was comforting. While he’d always loved his connection to the earth, he could never bring himself to love this other part of himself. It is him, and yet it does not feel natural, not in the way his magic does.
“Go on, out with it then,” Arthur urges, impatient despite everything. Merlin lets out a small huff of laughter, but the discomfort returns right away.
“They thought I was a girl. That is, my mother raised me to be a girl?” Merlin cringes. Years and years later he still hasn’t gotten any better at explaining it.
Arthur just looks confused. “So you’re a girl, then.”
“No, no! Gods, no,” Merlin says frantically, jumping up from the bed. “I mean, I was, but it was never right. It wasn’t… right,” he says again. “Surely you’ve heard of this before. You grew up in the city. You’re the king, for fuck’s sake.”
Arthur frowns, though it looks more like a pout. Can’t he be serious? “Do not snap at me, _Mer_ lin. I _am_ the king, as you just acknowledged.”
He can’t stay still anymore, so he sits back down and puts his head in his hands for a moment. He hates this part of himself; he knows it’s unnatural, and he tried so hard just to be normal, but no amount of taunts or shame could make him a girl. It just wasn’t meant to be, and someday he would come to terms with that, but that day seemed far away.
He feels the bed dip beside him and looks up as Arthur speaks. “I believe I do understand, Merlin. There was a girl like you in the town when I was young. Everyone accepted that she wasn’t the boy her parents once believed her to be. My father never knew we were friends; he thought all my friends had connections to our family. She was a good kid, though; I wonder how she turned out.”
For a second, all Merlin can do is stare. Arthur had spoken in his normal, kingly voice, and yet there was something soft and kind in his words, even in his face. In that moment Merlin feels safer than he ever has. When Arthur leans down to kiss him, he notices that the weight he’s carried upon his shoulders for so long is finally gone. Things aren’t perfect, and the shame will return eventually, but at least he no longer has to wallow in it. Arthur doesn’t hate him, and he knows now that he will be here forever. This is all he’s ever wanted and more. |
8733f303e86a45979d36af93f5877781 | ['4384a575f7b149b3ace26ebc5ecc39e8'] | Niles hooks one finger through the rope cuff and guides Gavin towards the bed, bringing him to stand beside it and face one of the metal bars attached to the wall. These aren’t truly the best for support when paired with the bondage method Niles chose to employ, but that’s just another test – Gavin is more physically resilient than other submissives, trained to stand unwavering, and Niles intends to use that.
He takes a second rope to secure Gavin’s cuff to the bar, making it so he can’t quite close his fists around it. It doesn’t go unnoticed, but he soothes his submissive with a kiss to the temple and a slow stroke down his spine.
“Stand still, I know you can take it.”
Despite his words, Niles doesn’t move directly into impact play. That would take the fun out of building Gavin to his breaking point and cut short Niles’s enjoyment of a slow and deliberate scene. Instead of moving towards the toys on the bed or the gloves still set aside from earlier, he simply moves both hands up and down Gavin’s back with varying pressure, a facsimile massage.
Satisfied with the give of his partner’s muscles, Niles presses close against him and trails slow, wet kisses over the curve of his shoulders. His hands find Gavin’s hips and pull them back until his spine is slightly arched, a position that draws an involuntary full-body shiver from his submissive.
“Good, sweetheart?”
“Yeah, Ni- sir, yes sir.”
“Such a good boy for me.” Niles rolls his hips forward against the curve of Gavin’s ass, drags his teeth over the skin at the base of his neck. “Good enough to be marked, aren’t you? To have an excuse to show me those pretty bruises once we finish here.”
The way Gavin’s breath hitches arouses Niles just as much as the way he pushes back into the contact. He only realizes now how much he missed this kind of connection, the intimacy of a submissive who is also his lover.
“I- if you think so, sir.”
“No, Gavin. You need to tell me, tell me how good you are. Do you deserve the flogger tonight, or should I make do with my hand?”
“No, no,” Gavin immediately protests, leaning his head back against Niles as if he knows to beg with his body as well as his words. “I’m good, I am, I’ll be even better. Please, sir.”
“I don’t know what you’re asking for. You need to be clearer with your requests, Gavin.” The hint of humor in his voice is just enough to make Gavin tug at his restraints, and Niles allows himself a hidden, amused smile. This is the desperation he expects after so long.
“ _Fuck_. I want you to – to hit me, to use the flogger, please. I’ve been good, I can take it.” Gavin practically whines, though his voice isn’t nearly thin and high enough for that, and Niles considers his pleas with a low hum and another kiss to the side of his neck. “Please, sir.”
Niles steps away instead of offering a verbal answer, and Gavin immediately turns his head to watch him. It’s as if all remaining tension and worry drains from him when Niles picks up both floggers, considering first the smaller one – more of a sting toy, something for buildup – and then Gavin’s known favorite thud model, made with buffalo leather falls.
He considers skipping the initial step and instead using the buffalo leather to administer the first light blows, but it is far more rewarding if Gavin sees the toy itself as recompense. Niles chooses the smaller flogger to start with and, assuming position once again, spends the first two minutes only tracing Gavin’s back and shoulders with the falls and his bare hands.
Gavin leans into every touch, his physical response already incredibly heightened, but Niles won’t have that now. He presses at the center of Gavin’s back and growls in a low voice, speaking close to his ear.
“You will stand still and count every blow. Disobey me and I will skip your favorite toy entirely, is that understood?”
“Yes, yeah, sir.” It’s Gavin’s first instinct to go rigid at the command, but Niles works him back down to relaxation before he swings the flogger for the first time. The initial strikes aren’t hard enough to cause more than a passing sting, but they build in intensity until the loud slap of leather on skin is followed by small sounds drawn straight from Gavin’s throat.
Niles only uses this flogger to get to that point, to tinge Gavin’s skin pink and draw them both tight with anticipation. When the heavier toy finds his hand, firm and unrelenting, he doesn’t wait to swing again.
The way Gavin cries out is beautiful, and Niles can see every back and shoulder muscle contract and relax in the span of a second. He’s about to reprimand his submissive for not counting when he finally voices a number, continuing from where they left off with the lighter falls.
This is something Niles knows Gavin can take and take well, so he delivers hard blows in quick succession, then lighter intermittent ones between which he strokes, kisses and rubs Gavin’s sensitive skin.
When he sets down the flogger for the last time, it’s only because Gavin is beginning to grow unstable on his feet. Niles can see him waver with every hit, see the way he struggles to both keep count and hold himself upright without the assistance of the bar or the wall in front of him. He unties Gavin from the bar while praising him, peppering pet names where he can. | 38f3fe4cf1204dbaa1e54e03739f6013 | ['4384a575f7b149b3ace26ebc5ecc39e8'] | “I know.” Gavin places a hand on her upper back, firm and supportive. “You did good, Chen, you didn’t lose your shit in the thick of it. Make sure you get back into that headspace before we head out again.”
“I felt nothing. I pulled the trigger again and again and I felt nothing,” she coughs out. “Now it’s- I keep seeing them, every time I close my eyes. I smell the shit and the blood and-“ she heaves again, more yellow bile spilling from her mouth. There’s nothing else left to evacuate.
“I know,” Gavin repeats, rubbing his palm in circles over the camo of Tina’s jacket. “You get used to it. It’s fucking sick, wrong, but it’s them or us. You said you’re not letting them kill you, so you just gotta do it again. Until you stop thinking about their faces. In the end, they all blend together.”
Slowly, she stands and wipes her mouth on the back of her hand. Gavin notices her face is streaked with tears, but she’s not sobbing. There’s still some of that raw strength in her.
“You done?” he asks, dropping his hand back to his side.
“Yeah.” Tina swallows and grimaces at the taste, using her sleeve to wipe at her cheeks. “Thanks, Gav.”
“Come on, you need to eat – and hold it down,” he says, guiding her back inside. She follows wordlessly, clearly spent, and Gavin feels a surge of pride when she gags but doesn’t throw up at the first bite of solid food.
**August 2003**
Tina is tending to Gavin’s bloodied fist when Fowler storms in, pressing disinfectant into the tooth-shaped indentations over his knuckles because he’s too paranoid to let an actual medic see to his wounds.
“What the fuck was that about, Reed?” The Major’s voice is booming as he shouts the question, which is in fact more of an accusation. Gavin straightens his back.
“An asshole getting his come-uppance, sir,” he responds, unflinching, not the least bit apologetic.
“You assaulted a fellow officer.” Fowler glances to the other side of the barrack, where officer Cesare’s beaten face stands out even at a distance, after having most of the blood cleaned off him by one of the medics. “You can be charged for battery and bodily injury, and you’re not stupid enough to risk Court Martial for nothing. What set you off?”
“Cesare over there thinks he can wave his dick around without consequence.” Gavin glares at the man in question, somewhat disappointed he’s out of hearing range. “He needed to be put in his place. If anyone should be subject to Court Martial, it’s that fucking perv.”
“You broke his face because he came onto your girlfriend?” Fowler crosses his arms, noticing the way Tina’s hands twitch as she tries to restrain herself in the presence of her commanding officer.
“He wasn’t hitting on her. He cornered her and overpowered her; it was sexual assault.”
“Chen, is that true?”
“Yes, sir. Gavin was only defending me, although- he might have gotten carried away,” she admits, wrapping a thin bandage around her friend’s hand. “I can’t say I blame him.”
“That reaction was stupid and irresponsible. I might lose one of the finer members of this team because he can’t control his fucking temper.” Fowler shakes his head. “Are you going to press charges?”
“You can’t possibly take his side, sir!” Gavin speaks up again, affronted. “He’s a dirty bastard who tried-“
“Enough, Reed. I’m not taking his side.”
“No, sir,” Tina responds, lowering her gaze. “I do not have the evidence to convict him and I don’t wish to complicate the situation by entering a legal battle.”
“You’ll continue to serve alongside a man who assaulted you?” Fowler’s surprise is clear in his voice, which has lost some of that initial anger.
“I wouldn’t be the first woman to do so, sir.”
The answer, unexpected as it is, seems to knock the fight out of Fowler. He turns his attention back to Gavin as Tina starts to dab away the blood that covers his forehead.
“I admire your drive to protect your friend, but we don’t take justice into our own hands. You could have stopped at incapacitating Cesare, but instead you beat him to a pulp. If he presses charges, you’re in deep shit.”
“He won’t,” Gavin answers, hissing at the sting when Tina hits a particular open cut. “He’s not that dumb.”
“Neither are you. Don’t do that shit again, Reed, I can’t cover your ass forever. I’m putting a warning on both your records; you’d do well to stay the fuck out of trouble from now on. I’ll see what I can do about getting that shit off the team.”
“Thank you, sir.” Tina nods, looking at him for a moment before returning to the task of cleaning blood from Gavin’s face. She only speaks again after hearing Fowler leave. “You’re such a dickhead. I told you not to act out for my sake.”
“Teeny, that guy was going to rape you,” Gavin reminds her, only to get slapped upside the head.
“Like the Major said – just pulling him off me would be fine. You’re lucky if you don’t get suspended for this.”
“Fowler knows I wouldn’t compromise the team,” he insists, reaching up to grab her hand. “It’s gonna be fine. I don’t give a shit about my record, it’s not like I’m coming back. I just want to see this tour through without some douchebag taking advantage of you.”
“I can take care of myself,” Tina replies, pulling her hand away. After a beat, she smiles. “Thank you, Gav.”
“Count on me, Teeny.” |
5cd97cd4daba43be9061b1b17833c040 | ['43957ffb9a3243a0a371ecc28b9a7473'] |
Die Never
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
Nick coughed.
Sean glanced at Nick, back at the road, and then back at Nick again. Saw Nick wiping away a small stream of blood from his mouth with the heel of his hand.
“Does that mean what I think it means?” Sean asked.
“He’s close,” Nick said, looking out the window.
*****
Nick ordered his usual steak for dinner that night.
Sean watched him as he sawed absently at the meat, his focus clearly not on the meal at hand. While the sight of the bloody rare cut of beef made now-Sean slightly queasy, he could remember all too easily a time when then-Sean would have eagerly devoured it. A time when a simple steak was blood and death and sex all at the same time.
That’s where now-Nick should have been, too. Except Nick had been acting fuzzy and distracted all day. And instead of giving him a boost, Nick acted like the meal itself was just a distraction.
“What’s with you, man?” Sean asked.
Nick’s attention snapped back to the present. “What are you talking about?” Nick replied, shoving a bite of steak into his mouth and chewing exaggeratedly.
Sean looked pointedly at the stead, then back up at Nick. “It’s not enough, is it?”
“It’s more than enough. If anything, it’s a little overcooked,” Nick said with a grin. He took another bite.
Sean rolled his eyes. “Sure it is.” He leaned back into the tacky-in-more-ways-than-one vinyl booth. It creaked. He figured that as long as Nick was feeling well enough to try to hide how shitty he was actually feeling, he was probably okay. For the immediate future, anyway. “So what are we gonna do when we catch up to him?” Sean asked.
“What do you mean?” Nick chugged down his entire glass of water.
“Does Colorado even have any hallowed ground?” Sean said.
Nick blinked. “Hell if I know.”
Sean rubbed an eyebrow. It was gonna be a long night.
*****
Sean caught the scent of the cattle ranch that they were driving past and started to crank up his window to block out the stench of cow.
The window was only halfway up when a most-likely-terrible idea occurred to him. The tires screeched painfully as Sean pulled to an abrupt stop at the side of the road. He took the key out of the ignition.
“What did you see?” Nick asked, casually reaching into the shoulder bag where he kept his gun.
“Nothing,” Sean said, holding up one hand to forestall him. “I just thought, well… you said your steak was overcooked tonight.”
Nick snorted, drawing his hand back out of the bag. “It was practically raw.”
“I know,” Sean said, tightening his fingers on the steering wheel. “But it doesn’t get any fresher than this.” Sean looked over at Nick, watched as the penny dropped.
“Turn on the car,” Nick said.
Sean didn’t move.
“Turn on the fucking car right now,” Nick said. He kept his voice tightly controlled but Sean could hear him breathing so heavily that he was almost panting.
“Just consider it a minute, okay?” Sean asked. “We’re finally closing in on this son of a bitch -- or he’s closing in on us, whatever -- and we have no plan and virtually no firepower. And I don’t know what’s going on inside your head, because _you won’t tell me_ , but I know something is going on because it’s like you’re not even here most of the time. And I really, really need you here right now.”
Nick was quiet for so long that Sean was starting to think he wasn’t going to get a response when Nick finally said, “Not counting piss breaks, the two of us spend around 23 hours of every day with each other -- and that’s a conservative guess -- most of those hours crammed into this shitty little car. Meanwhile, my body’s craving for human blood is growing stronger every day. It really should not be too hard for you to figure out what is going on inside my head and why I _do not_ want to talk about it.”
Sweat from the palms of Sean’s hands made the steering wheel slick beneath his fingers. “Okay,” he breathed. “That’s something. I can work with that.”
“So far, your most brilliant idea is for me to go attack a cow,” Nick said flatly.
Sean blinked. “Well, yeah. You can’t drink human blood, or you’ll turn, but you’re craving blood so badly that you can’t even think straight.”
“I never said I couldn’t think straight,” Nick said.
“You pretty much just told me that all day long you’re thinking about tearing my throat out,” Sean said.
“That’s not what I--” Nick began.
“So excuse me if I choose to draw some conclusions about your current mental state,” Sean finished. “Besides, can you give me one reason why it’s a bad idea?”
“It might make me turn,” Nick said tightly.
“It’s just cow’s blood,” Sean said.
“And, what? That guarantees my safety? Bullshit!” Nick said. “Come on, tell me, what would you do if I turned into a vampire tonight? Right now?”
“I’d shoot you,” Sean lied. “Right in the head.” Nick stared at him. “Happy now?
“Fine, Jesus, all right.” Nick violently wrenched open the door of the car, got out, and slammed it shut behind him. He stuck his head back through the window to look at Sean. “But if I get vamped, I’m biting you first.”
“Deal,” Sean said.
*****
Sean felt stupid sitting in the car, hands on the steering wheel like some getaway driver. And not knowing what Nick’s mood was going to be when he returned was nerve-wracking. The whole thing was his idea, sure, but that didn’t mean thinking about it didn’t also make him want to puke. If Nick caught on to that… things would get ugly, fast. | 170eeaa955cf4185b73d0e232041e771 | ['43957ffb9a3243a0a371ecc28b9a7473'] |
Shake and Shiver
“Like, I really don’t think we should go in that house, man,” Shaggy said, feeling a chill run down his spine as he eyed the dubious-looking structure.
“Old Widow Prescott needs our help finding her missing cat,” Fred replied earnestly. “That’s why we had you bring Scooby along. He’ll have that cat sniffed out in no time.”
“So what if the building looks a little creepy?” Daphne added. “Poor Old Widow Prescott has lived by herself for the last fifteen years. She doesn’t have anyone to help her maintain the place. No wonder it’s falling down around her ears.”
“And you even have Scooby to protect you from any vicious octogenarians we may encounter,” Velma playfully goaded.
“Right. My big, strong, fearless companion,” Shaggy said, studying Scooby. The dog’s ears lay flat against his head, and his tail was tucked safely away between his legs.
“Well, looks like Scoob agrees with me,” Shaggy said, turning back toward the van. “Too bad, let’s go. I’ll call Old Widow Prescott once we get home and let her know not to expect us.”
“Not so fast,” Velma said, putting her hand in her pocket. “If Scooby’s the one who needs convincing, then this ought to be a snap.” She pulled a dog treat out of her pocket. Scooby’s ears stood at attention, and his eyes tracked every movement Velma made. “Whaddaya say, boy?” Velma cooed, holding up the treat. “Wanna see what’s inside the house?”
Scooby’s tail wagged eagerly.
“Traitor,” Shaggy mumbled bitterly as they walked up the pathway toward the house.
Fred rang the doorbell, and they waited on the porch.
“I think you’re just jealous that Scooby got a snack and you didn’t,” Daphne teased.
Shaggy’s stomach gave a low rumble in his belly. “That could be true,” he admitted.
“We’ll go for pizza after,” Fred promised, frowning at the still-closed door. He rang the bell again.
“Like, maybe you’re doing it wrong,” Shaggy said when another minute passed without the door having been opened.
“How do you ring a bell **wrong**?” Daphne asked.
“Try the knocker,” Velma said, gesturing to the giant brass lions affixed to the door at shoulder height.
Fred lifted the ring that hung from a lion’s maw, and it squeaked a bit from disuse. Scooby made a small keening sound, his muzzle shut and nostrils flaring.
“This is promising,” Shaggy said.
Fred shot him a quelling glance and moved to push the ring of the knocker back down, but the ring never made contact with the metal plate behind it.
Instead, the door creaked open a few inches under the momentum of Fred’s swing.
“Even better,” Shaggy said. “Now what?”
“Now we go in,” Fred replied, pushing open the door and stepping through to the other side. Daphne and Velma followed.
“Well, Scoob, it’s been nice knowin’ ya,” Shaggy said, trailing after them. He left the door open for Scooby to follow. The dog pressed in close to Shaggy as they walked, his side maintaining constant contact with Shaggy’s leg. Shaggy rested a hand on his head.
“Mrs. Prescott?” Fred was calling out. “Are you home? We’ve come to help find Tiger!”
Their footsteps echoed in the empty hall, and Daphne and Velma took up Fred’s call. “Mrs. Prescott?”
There was no answer.
“Let’s split up to cover more ground,” said Fred.
“Nuh-uh,” said Shaggy. “No way!”
Fred and Velma exchanged a glance.
“The girls and I will head upstairs,” Fred plowed on, “and you can continue the search down here with Scooby.”
“Or,” said Shaggy, “since Old Widow Prescott isn’t here and obviously doesn’t need our help, we could all turn around and go for ice cream sundaes.”
Scooby sat down hard, his rump hitting the ground with emphasis.
“Or you could climb up the rickety stairs with us and we could all search together,” Velma countered.
Shaggy looked at the staircase. The bannister had whole chunks of it missing, and several of the spokes supporting it had snapped off and left jagged splinters of wood stabbing up into empty space.
“Scoob and I will check downstairs,” Shaggy announced.
The stairs groaned under the burden of the three teenagers, but held up nevertheless. Shaggy shook his head, and looked around the hall, which branched off in two directions. “Eenie, meenie, miny, _moe_ ,” Shaggy said, taking the hall to his left. Scooby flanked him.
They passed a large, cob-webby bookcase, and Scooby sneezed.
A low growl came from a darkened doorway, and the pair froze. The growl grew louder, and something rushed at them from the darkness.
“Zoinks!” Shaggy yelped, leaping backward. Scooby barked. A tiny tornado of fur erupted in the hallway.
“Shaggy!?” came Fred’s concerned call from upstairs.
Shaggy chuckled. “Like, Scoob and I totally solved the mystery!” he yelled back. “We found the cat!”
Scooby stretched his neck to sniff delicately at Tiger. The cat swatted him across the nose, and he quickly drew back, letting out an indignant chuff.
The stairs made further protestations as the teens trampled back to the ground floor.
“Any sign of Mrs. Prescott?” Fred asked.
“Nope,” Shaggy said. “Now how about that pizza?”
“We need to find Mrs. Prescott,” Daphne said, scooping up the cat. “She could be lying hurt somewhere. Maybe Tiger is trying to tell us.”
She scratched the cat under its chin, and Shaggy stared in disbelief as it began to purr.
“Where did the cat come from?” Velma asked.
Shaggy hitched a thumb over his shoulder at the darkened room. “Somewhere in there.”
Fred stuck his hand into the darkness, and groped around the frame of the door until he found a switch. Light flooded into the room, and the teens filed through the doorway.
“Jinkies,” Velma breathed quietly, and Shaggy watched with rapt fascination as all the color drained from her face.
Sensations flashed at Shaggy in fits and starts, bits and pieces. Daphne gasped and covered her mouth with one hand -- or, Daphne covered her mouth with her hand and gasped. He breathed in the taste of metal from the air. Scooby became a mass of rigid muscle, tense beneath his touch. Fred reached for Velma’s elbow, or Velma backed up into Fred’s hand. And the smell hit him. The smell of a corpse.
The smell, to be precise, of Old Widow Prescott’s corpse, nailed to the wall, her throat slit from ear to ear.
From behind them came the sound of the front door slamming shut.
**Author's Note:**
> For the LINK "genre swap" challenge. |
a23c367207e44507831aa964fc2257d1 | ['43a65acb888e48ada726e635d78b77b4'] | “Gregor was a really great man! Always had a smile on his face and he would always have a soft spot for Nowi! He saved her from slavers before joining our cause!” Ricken explained as he wiped some blood off Brady's face.
Nah never knew her parents, so when Lucina had told her that Naga and Lady Tiki had developed a way to go back in time she agreed, maybe a little too quickly, and ran to find out what to pack before getting any more information.
Nah knew that this would be her only chance to see, talk to and be with her parents and she was not about to pass that opportunity up.
8. Vaike & Laurent - Sleep
Laurent knew that his dreams were mostly nightmares about seeing his parents leave and never come back. When Maribelle had taken him aside and told him that his mother would not return. When his mother had delivered the news that his father would not return.
Many nights he still saw his father trying to get the people of the village to the safety of the castle. Many had been Vaike's old comrades from his days on the streets. Others had been nobles, displaced by the war Grima had raged against humanity. The Vaike had never been able to turn his back on those in need and it had been his greatest downfall.
Laurent had tried to fall into a blissful slumber, but it was not meant to be.
He had woken in a cold sweat after replaying his Father's death in his head for the millionth time. Laurent stood up and exited the tent without waking his wife.
He slipped into his parent's tent as quietly as he could, but his father's hearing betrayed him. Vaike sat up and reached for his axe before fully looking at his son.
“Laurent? I could have killed ya!” Vaike whispered so as not to wake Miriel.
“I am sorry Father, but I was having trouble sleeping and I hoped that you would allow me to sleep in here, with you and mother, for the night.”
“Of course Son!” Vaike moved over a bit so Laurent could take a small spot between his parents. Laurent wrapped his arms around his father and felt the warmth.
“Night son, sweet dreams.” Vaike kissed the top of his forehead and then leaned over to give Miriel a kiss on her cheek.
“You need to stop spoiling him now or the Laurent of this Timeline will become spoiled.” Miriel mumbled and Vaike chuckled before falling into a deep sleep with his family.
9. Gaius and Rai - Thieves
Gaius had finished picking the lock to Tharja's hexing tools. No longer would his wife curse his precious Cupcake. She could curse Bubbles, Bubbles Jr., Blue, Red, Dancer, Dancer Jr., Twinkles, Stumbles.... pretty much anyone that wasn't his little Cupcake.
He wasn't expecting Bubbles to walk into the tent at the moment. “Tharja?”
“She's not here Bubbles.” Gaius told him, not looking up from the lock.
“May I ask what you're doing?” Rai asked, kneeling next to him.
“Tharja's been cursing Noire and so I'm going to steal her tools to protect my little Cupcake. I mean....that's what you would do if you found out Dancer was placing curses on your kids, right?” Gaius asked, looking at Rai.
“Well luckily Olivia doesn't have much experience with curses and hexes and all I need to worry about is Inigo complaining that she tried to spy on his dancing and Morgan whining that she doesn't remember her mother, but I probably would. Do you need help?” Rai asked, looking at the lock.
“Nah, I think I got this Bubbles. If it isn't truly from me than I won't be able to look Noire in the eyes and say 'Daddy stole these tools to protect you from your mother's evil curses.' Then I can kiss my reputation of Sticky Fingers Gaius goodbye.”
“I didn't know it was that much of an issue to you.”
“Well...yeah...it kind of is. It's more a pride thing really.” Gaius explained, letting out a small cry of relief when he finally broke the lock. He swiped all the tools in there and stood up.
“So... if you see Tharja...” Rai looked up at the thief.
“I'll be running from her after she finds out I swiped these. But if she stops cursing me long enough for me to talk...”
“I was looking for her to discuss the next training session.” Rai explained, before getting up and leaving the tent. | 7bb1bffda5f846059e9d7223eb063ee7 | ['43a65acb888e48ada726e635d78b77b4'] |
Odin had insisted many times that Laslow was a person of the Sunshine and Day. Someone who walked among the Blue Skies and Sunshine. Every time Odin had pointed it out, Laslow began to shake his head.
Olivia had been a Lady of Day. Dancing in the sunlight, under blue skies. His father insisted that Naga rose the sun so that it could see her dances. She moved with all the grace and poise of a Person of Daylight.
Odin's family had been that way as well. Exalt Chrom, Queen Maribelle, Prince Brady and Princess Lissa. Even Odin himself had been People of Day. Reasons that the Sun rose during the day was to greet them and bring joy, as the family themselves did.
Laslow insisted that he was a Son of Night. Just like his Father, Robin, and sister, Morgan. People that the Moon rose to greet and who functioned better in the moonlit rays.
Robin had insisted up, down, left and right that the Moon rose to watch Inigo dance. That even though Olivia was a Lady of the Day, Inigo's purity was tainted by Grima's blood that Robin passed onto him.
' _That's not a bad thing Inigo, The world needs us as much as they need your Mother. Even though you're not a_ _Son_ _of Day, you're not a_ _Son_ _of Night either. You're a Son of Dawn and Morgan is a Daughter of Dusk._ _The world needs Dawn and Dusk as much as they need Night and Day. Do you understand?_ ' He had nodded at the time, not fully understanding Robin's words.
Since arriving in Nohr and beginning his duties as a retainer, he began to understand more about what Robin had told him. The never ending darkness of Nohr hadn't felt welcoming. He knew that his father would have embraced it, Tharja and Henry as well. The Darkness would have felt like home to them.
It was calming in small douses, however he found himself resting with a small lamp burning on the stove in his room, just for some light in his life.
When they had crossed the Hoshidan border, the sunshine hadn't been very welcoming either. He had made a makeshift dark room around his cot to allow him darkness to sleep in. Soliel has joined him on occasion, however she was more Sunshine then Dawn. She hadn't been able to spend much time in the dark room before her comfort level had dropped and she left.
He understood instantly what Robin had been trying to tell him. Darkness all the time is Depressing and Light all the time is problematic in its own ways. Dawn is a time to wake up and enjoy yourself before the day fully sets in, usually with a cup of tea. Dusk is a time to unwind after the long day and enjoy some time with friends and family. Both are just as important as the Night and Day.
He couldn't help the smile that came to his face. The world needed the Dawn just as much as it needed the Dusk.
“Laslow? Gold for your thoughts?” Xander's voice came from behind him, causing Laslow to turn around and smile.
“My Father once told me that I was a Son of Dawn and my sister was a Daughter of Dusk. I told him at the time that I understood what he was talking about even though I really didn't. The world needs people like my Mother, a beautiful Lady of the Day, and my Father, a Man of the Night. He insisted that the Sun rose to watch my mother dance and that the Moon rose to help him with his work. He said that the world needed my sister and I just as much as it needed my parents. I understand now. The constant Darkness of Nohr became depressing when exposed to it constantly. It was difficult to sleep in Hoshido with the constant sunshine. The world needs the Dawn to gradually bring sunshine into the day and the Dusk to send it away. I understand now. The Dawn brings the Sun into the day and Dusk sends it away at Night.” Laslow explained, rubbing his arm the spot where his Brand of the Defile had once sat.
“That is a very lovely way of looking at it Laslow. An almost romantic way to be honest. How would you describe me?”
“You, Lord Xander, are a Son of the Night. Like my Father and some of my close friends. I'd actually peg most of the Nohrian half of our army as People of Night. Exceptions, of course, being Lady Corrin, Young Lord Kana, Odin, Soliel, Ophelia and Felicia.” Laslow pointed out smiling a bit.
“Corrin and Kana make sense, but may I ask why Felicia?”
“I dunno. She just gives off vibes of a Person of Day. Warm, friendly and helpful.”
“Odin?”
“Day. His whole family consisted of People of Day and his mother was the brightest of them all. Odin took after her.”
“Soliel and Ophelia?”
“Ophelia is like my sister, it's even in her name. The Fair Maiden, Ophelia Dusk. Soliel is Sun, it's even in the meaning of her name. Strange. Soliel is more my daughter but she takes more after Odin's family and Ophelia is more Odin's daughter and she has the same alignment as my sister.” Laslow explained, looking at the ring on his finger, a copy of the one that Frederick had given to Lissa and made specially to rest on Laslow's finger. Engraved on the bottom of the band was the Brand of the Exalt, a sure sign of the People of Day. One that rested on Odin's finger was a copy of Olivia's ring with the Brand of Defile engraved on the bottom.
He used to believe that the Brand marked him as a Son of Night, someone who walked the darkness.
It branded him as the Son of Robin, Man of the Night, and Olivia, Lady of the Day. Brother to Morgan, Daughter of Dusk.
It reminded him of his true name and title.
Inigo, Son of Dawn.
**Author's Note:**
> This was kind of fun for me to write. Took a while to figure out the direction I wanted it to take though. |
80c4b25e28ba4a1aa9037fa3b33e9fe1 | ['43a9ca562522457f89249694ca448ada'] | However, like _hell_ she was going to let the kid eat out of the trash. So, as carefully and quietly as she could, she backed herself through the door and into Jitters, placed the bag of trash down, and made a beeline straight for the display case. She collected the most neutral foods she could think; a ham and cheese sandwich, an apple, two chocolate chip cookies, and two bottles of water. She wrapped it all up in a nice to-go box, told the trainee that she was going to be another minute, and then walked as quickly and as calmly as she could back to the back alley, hoping that the kid was still there.
Luck was on her side, for the kid had returned to digging through the dumpster, apparently clinging to the hope that something edible was hiding just a bit further down under the shredded papers and empty staple boxes. And that was when Iris was met with a dilemma. How was she supposed to get the food to the kid? Some homeless people were incredibly jumpy, and she didn't want to scare him off before she could pass the box over to him. She could always open with "Hi, I noticed you were hungry, would you like some food?" but she wasn't sure that that would go over very well, since she would still be sneaking up on him. She considered just tossing the box towards him and hoping for the best, but one, Iris wasn't sure the box would stay together, and like hell all of this nice clean food was going to get dirtied on the ground, even though she was sure that the kid would still eat it; and two, that was how someone fed a _dog_. This was a kid, not an animal.
And then Iris got an idea, and she grinned at what she hoped was the ingenuity of it. She carefully placed the box of food down on the ground near her, and then hid behind the door. She grabbed the bag of trash, and swung it out into the alley. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming!" she called over her shoulder, as if she was being called to help with a sudden rush, and then, just for show, muttered that she would take care of the trash later. She took just a moment to make sure that the trash had landed close enough to the to-go box, and then let the door swing closed, catching it with a finger to leave the smallest crack to see through.
The kid had been surprised at her sudden shout, jumping out of the dumpster and ducking behind it. Iris had been right that the kid would be jumpy, it would seem. It took him nearly a full two minutes to finally decide that the coast was clear, and he slowly slunk back to the dumpster, eyes darting to and from the door that Iris was hiding behind. He didn't seem to notice her, but he also didn't seem to care much for the bag of trash that she had thrown. He didn't make even a single twitch towards it. Iris frowned at her failure, but then noticed that the boy was glancing at the bag of trash, his eyes full of suspicion and just a bit of curiosity. His gaze darted to the door, and he returned to the dumpster.
Iris cursed. The bag had to be too close to the door, or he had to be too scared of someone coming back out and catching him. Either way, he apparently deemed it too risky to try and scavenge through the bag.
The boy suddenly sighed, and muttered something under his breath that Iris couldn't make out. He turned, took another look at the door, and practically tip-toed to the bag of trash, eyes going back to the door every other step. About halfway to the bag, he seemed to decide that nobody was going to jump out and scare him off, and quickly closed the distance between him and his prize. He was about to rip open the bag of trash when the box caught his eye. He frowned at it and poked at it with a toe before shrugging and picking it up. The look on his face when he saw its contents was one of jubilation.
_"Dzastrima!"_ he hissed, and Iris had no idea what it meant, but she could make a pretty good guess. He cast another look around, as if to make sure nobody was sneaking up on him, before quickly closing up the box, and nestling it into his backpack. Just like that, he rose to his feet, seamlessly blended in with a crowd of pedestrians out on the street, and vanished. And just like that, Iris finished taking out the trash, and returned to the counter to help the clueless trainee.
In the days that followed, Iris made it a habit to be the one to take out the trash in some futile hope that she would see the homeless boy again. She didn't know what it was about him--his vivid eyes, how young he was, that glowing grin when he had realized what had been in the to-go box--that refused to allow him to leave her thoughts completely, but every time she thought that she had moved on, there he was again, popping back into her mind. It was strangely insistent of her subconscious, as if the world itself was telling her, "Hey, keep an eye out for this kid. It's important."
It wasn't until three or four days later that she saw him again. He wasn't out by the dumpster, but she saw him walking by the big display windows at the front of the coffee shop. If it wasn't for his blue hair, she probably wouldn't have noticed him. What she saw was a bit...concerning. | 4bb6a032ada7462582349a4ee185300f | ['43a9ca562522457f89249694ca448ada'] | Farah actually _did_ leave money for repairs, along with a sizable tip for the staff. Or maybe she just left the money in an attempt to pay them to keep their mouths shut. She hadn't been very clear on her intentions, but Todd felt like the way she had phrased them seemed a bit threatening.
They made a quick retreat to their car, piling in in hopes that they'd get out of town before the cops could get to the diner and arrest them for the plethora of laws that they had or currently were punching in the metaphorical gut. Vogle climbed in the back, intent on flipping over into the trunk to return to his blanket nest, but he froze, his mouth open and his eyebrows raised.
"Uh...huh." He blinked. "Those're mine."
"Well, I like them," Bart replied, snuggling down deeper into the cotton and the fleece. She stared at the gawking four over the edge of one of the blankets that she pulled up past her nose, just daring one of them to try and take them from her. Vogle looked prepared to, but one stern look from Farah had Bart handing over half of the blankets with a grumble. Vogle made himself busy rolling around until he was completely wrapped up in his share of the blankets before grinning.
"I'm like a burrito," he told Amanda with a sage nod of his head and a serious tone.
Todd decided to ignore that, mostly because he wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to do with it. "What're you doing in here?" he asked Bart. "And how'd you know this one was ours? No, wait, don't answer that, lemme guess: The universe guided you. Just stick to the first question."
The raggedy woman twirled a fry in the air before popping it into her mouth. "The universe guides me."
"Yeah, no, we got that already. That doesn't-"
"No, no, listen." She cocked her head, as if actually listening. "The universe talks. It has a plan. It arranges things to make stuff it wants to happen, happen. It connects things and makes a path to follow. I'm good at following that path." She paused to swallow, using the time to gesture broadly at the other occupants of the car. "That path led me to you. And the universe didn't let me kill you! The only times that happens is if something important is happening. Like with Dirk, and-" She frowned, her jaw tightening. "Well, your path led you to me, too. We're connected now." Connected _again._ Or maybe they hadn't stopped being connected ever since this whole business with psychics and time travel and shady government jackasses had started.
"So, what? You're just going to stick with us?" Getting help didn't seem like a bad idea, especially from somebody that could take out a tank and at least fifty guys without much of an issue.
Bart nodded with a shrug. "Until the universe stops protecting you and lets me kill you, or I find whoever I'm supposed to be killing right now. Whichever comes first."
Todd decided that this definitely seemed like a piss-poor idea.
* * *
' _Get your hands off of him! I told you, I'm trying! Why won't you listen? Don't touch him! Let him go! Todd! TODD!'_
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So I have no idea if Bart is actually MARZANNA or not. Max Landis posted an image on twitter of the different projects, and some of them are highlighted different colors. INCUBUS, MARZANNA, and ICARUS are green; HERODIAS, LAMIA, BANSHEE, and BEL are orange; and MOLOCH is blue. I've interpreted that in a few ways: the green projects may have been the ones we've seen in season 1 and the others will come later, the colors might mean who has been recaptured/located/gone after, or the colors could be what their "alignment" is (green = good, orange = bad, blue = neutral). So I narrowed the possibilities down to either MOLOCH or MARZANNA for Bart, and since Marzanna is thought to be the goddess of death, I picked her. I might be way off though. If you guys have any theories for that image, I'd love to hear them.
4. Chapter 4
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Totally did not proofread this as much as I should have but it is 3:10 in the morning and I have a 10 AM class tomorrow. So. Enjoy my tired babble I guess?
>
> I should stop writing exclusively past midnight.
_Why? Why are you letting them do this? Why are you_ helping _them? Is this payback for my lying to you? Or because I couldn't protect you? I tried to get them to stop, but I can't do what they want me to. I can't do what_ you _want me to. Why won't any of you listen? Them I understand, but_ you? _I tried to help you, I promise I did. This wasn't supposed to happen. My choices were supposed to keep you safe. Why didn't it work? Why are you_ doing this?'
* * *
Getting Bart to sit still for longer than five minutes was like trying to lasso a tornado of Brillo pads and bleach with a can of half-used silly string. In a word: Impossible. She was a maelstrom of impulsivity and murderous intent that quickly grew tired of the quaint little cabin that the group had retreated to for regrouping and restrategizing.
She was a creature of habit, that habit being to live in her own reality, which wasn't actually a reality that anybody else lived in. The others found that the rules of her world were hard to understand, if they could make any sense of them at all. |
e7983c0b52b94af19691826c7026dce3 | ['43aa26ad9c2e4204b713ea86ab22bd6a'] | After what felt like an eternity, just like last time, the chute I was falling through opened into a massive cavern. I was able to see the ground, and it was approaching fast. A black river snaked across the landscape, before emptying into a large lake. As I dropped closer, I let out a defiant yell. I felt a tug in my gut, and the river surged up to swallow me whole. That was my first.
Thousands of voices flooded my head, and pain overwhelmed me.
_The pain!_ They wailed. _Make it stop! I didn’t mean to! It was an accident!_
I could feel my willpower slipping away, and I struggled to retake it. ‘Any other river,’ I thought, a harsh laugh slipping out, then having to spit the briny water out. ‘But no, I had to fall into this one. Stupid Underworld Rivers’ I swam up to the surface, desperately trying to block the voices out of my head.
With a final rush of strength, I burst out of the river, pain fading away and the voices becoming a dull undertone. I dragged himself further away from the river, ignoring the pain from the glass embedding itself in my hands. My random burst of strength abandoning me, darkness flooded my vision and I passed out on the banks of the River Acheron.
=-=
Percy slowly opened his eyes. He blinked a few times, making sure what he was seeing was real. Or rather, what he wasn’t seeing. He wasn’t on the banks of the Acheron anymore, Percy could tell that much. Where he was, he wasn’t sure. He looked around, taking in the area around him. The lighting was dim, but he could see that he was in a small room. The walls were made of worn dark-grey bricks, and the room was bare, apart from the small torch next to the door that was the only source of light.
Percy shakily got to his feet, feeling the remains of the pain from the Acheron as he made his way over to the door. He tried the handle. Locked. He cursed and sat back down. Before long, Percy returned to his feet and started to pace around the room, his ADHD driving him mad. He stopped his pacing as voices came into earshot.
“Are you sure that it’s Jackson?” A male voice asked. In his head, Percy nicknamed him Steve.
“Positive,” a soft female voice responded. Percy shivered. The female voice sounded awfully familiar.
The lock to his cell clicked, and the door swung open. Percy’s mouth dropped open, and a cold chill made its way down his spine.
“It’s been a while. You never did come back for a second tour,” Nyx smirked.
A second figure stepped into view, and the dread Percy had been feeling increased tenfold.
“I wondered if I’d be seeing you Perseus Jackson,” Kronos said, a sinister smile adorning his face, gold eyes shining with a sadistic glee.
“Kronos? I- Wha- I thought you wouldn’t reform for ages!” Percy stammered.
“Oh, Perseus, you really thought I put my whole consciousness into one little demigod? Only a sliver was needed to control that pathetic son of Hermes.”
“Luke was a hero! He wasn’t pathetic!” Percy shouted, but Kronos ignored him.
“Thank you for the gift, Lady Nyx,” the Titan said, before turning back to Percy.
“Gift? I’m no gift!” Percy protested.
“Oh Perseus,” Nyx said, shaking her head in mock-sympathy. “You really have no idea, do you?”
She turned back towards the hallway. “Guards!”
Nyx and Kronos stepped out of the doorway and a group of shadowy figures rushed into the cell. Percy fought against them, but they overpowered him and knocked the demigod unconscious.
Nyx turned to Kronos. “Our deal is complete,” she said, as the guards cuffed the unconscious demigod and dragged him out of the cell.
“That it is.” Kronos handed Nyx an intricately engraved golden box, before making to leave the cell. Nyx stopped him from leaving with a hand on his shoulder.
He turned back to the primordial. “What is it?”
Nyx’s smile was almost feral as she held out her hand, palm upwards. The darkness solidified in her hand, swirling into the form of a pitch black dagger with silver engravings, which she handed to Kronos.
“You will know what to do with it when the time is right.”
Kronos matched Nyx’s smile, as he thanked her and departed.
Nyx left the cell and watched the retreating back of the Titan, her feral grin slipping off her face, leaving a mischievous expression in its place.
=-=
It felt like an eternity I’d spent with Kronos. And let me tell you, it wasn’t a tea party. Any kind of torture you can imagine, you can bet that Kronos did it to me. I still remember when Kronos found out about my fear of drowning. Oh boy did he have a field day with that. He didn’t even have the decency to clean up my ichor that he spilled.
Hearing footsteps approaching the door to my cell, I groaned, flopping onto my back on the hard floor. The door creaked open, and I looked over to see Kronos grinning sadistically down at me.
“Hello Perseus…” He purred.
I ignored him and turned away. Yeah, I know, turning my back to my tormentor was probably not my best idea, but I was tired. Gazing upon the thousands of scratched lines that I’d scraped into the wall, I didn’t see Kronos’s boot swinging towards my back. I let out an ‘oof!’ as the Titan’s boot connected with the small of my back, right where my Achilles point used to be, and tumbled over onto my stomach.
“Get up!” Kronos growled, his cheerful attitude from earlier disappearing. I’d long ago decided he was bipolar. | 71a5dee985b6415ab53d6b4ba596d642 | ['43aa26ad9c2e4204b713ea86ab22bd6a'] |
1. Chapter 1
Let me tell you a story of a hero.
A hero who, with his friends, defied the odds and saved the world multiple times.
A hero whose life got turned upside-down when a new demigod arrived at Camp.
=-=
Howls tore through the woods as Jamie raced through the trees, feet pounding against the ground, heart racing, sapphire eyes filled with fear, and breath coming in shallow puffs. He could still hear it chasing him, the demon dog that had killed his best friend. He could feel his stamina fading as he ran, and he did the only thing he could think of. He screamed for help.
Jamie’s foot caught on a root, and he crashed into the ground. Spitting the dirt out of his mouth, he scrambled backwards as the hound approached. The demon dog was massive, easily the size of an elephant, with knife-like fangs, shaggy black fur, glowing red eyes, and razor-sharp claws that stirred up the dust as it neared him. Jamie closed his eyes, waiting for the claws to tear into his chest, for fangs to tear out his throat. But the pain never came.
Instead he heard a shink, like the sound of a knife being sharpened, and the sound of a male yelling a war-cry. Jamie took a risk and opened his eyes, fully expecting to see the demon dog inches away from impaling him. What he saw instead took him by surprise.
Facing off against the hound was a teen with his back to Jamie. He was wearing an orange shirt and jeans, with messy black hair. But what stood out was the glowing bronze sword he held in his hand. He quickly killed the demon dog, and turned back to the first boy. It was then that Jamie got a good look at his face. He looked about 16 or 17, with tanned skin that was littered with scars, chiselled features and sea-green eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Jamie nodded my head. “What was that thing? How’d you kill it? When my friend Joey tried, it… it killed him.”
The teen looked disheartened.
“Joey Liakos?” He asked.
“Yeah…”
He gazed down at the ground for a few seconds, then looked back at Jamie.
“Come with me,” he beckoned, turning and walking away.
Jamie quickly debated his options. Either go with the stranger who saved your life, or stay out in the wilderness where more of those monsters could be lurking. He made his decision, and hurried after him.
“So… My father always said not to talk to strangers, so can I at least know your name?” Jamie asked.
He grinned, a lopsided smile that brightened his whole face, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
“My name’s Percy Jackson. What’s yours?”
“I’m Jamie. Jamie Phillips. You know you never answered my questions.”
“Well, Jamie Phillips, what do you know about Greek Mythology?”
=-=
Jamie was quickly claimed by Hecate, and got along well with his half-siblings and Percy. Unfortunately, they were the only ones he got along with. Everyone else, despite the Hecate campers efforts (the other campers were never mean when Percy was around) either made fun of, shunned, or bullied him. Why, Jamie didn’t know. It might’ve been his inability to fight with any weapon, his low agility and speed, or any of his other bad features. He didn’t understand. Jamie always tried to be nice to everyone, his father and friends taught him to do that. He decided to stick it out, and wait to see if any of the other campers would warm up to him.
After a month of this treatment, Jamie decided he’d had enough. He prayed to Hecate for guidance, and to Hestia for hope. In a flash of light, a book popped into existence… and promptly fell on his head. After muttering a few Ancient Greek curses, he flipped open the book to a random page. Jamie grinned happily. On the page was a potion that made people not hate you. He felt as if his mother had invented this just for him. Little did he know, she had, hating to see any of her children treated the way that he was.
Jamie went around collecting ingredients for the next few days. Whenever one of his siblings (or Percy) asked what he was doing, his only response was “Magic!” and a wiggle of his fingers. It was quite late (read: almost curfew), when he finally had collected every ingredient. Late into the night he worked, only taking breaks when he needed to or the potion required it. Half-asleep and yawning, he poured in the final ingredient, not noticing that he poured in way too much. Jamie did notice, however, when his cauldron (very Harry Potter he knew) started to melt, sending wisps of dark grey smoke into the air. He watched in horror as the smoke escaped out underneath the door to the cabin. Jamie cursed, not caring if he woke his cabin-mates up, because he had no clue what the effects of the smoke was. He quickly cleaned up the remains of his cauldron, and went to bed, deciding to talk to Chiron in the morning, unaware of what the effects of the smoke would be on Camp Half-Blood’s most popular camper.
=-= |
07184b491eed47708164b4cf974112f4 | ['43c6691b3aa14d25ba321b4cd5fb545d'] |
on/off
**Author's Note:**
> Everything is 100% consensual and previously discussed by the characters.
“Pathfinder,”
A familiar voice coaxed Sara out of sleep, bleary eyes opening to darkness. Judging from the faraway sound of bass thudding from Tartarus, it was still early in the night, she must’ve fallen asleep while waiting for Reyes to come back. She groaned a little and tried to rouse herself awake, feeling a slight ache in her arms as she moved to check the time on her omni-tool.
Except she couldn’t, something was blocking her arms from moving. She looked up to see her wrists suspended to the headboard with a pair of...cuffs? That would explain the slight ache. They didn’t look like the standard Milky Way type, and she tugged experimentally at them, only to feel a faint electric jolt go through her body. Who had the bright idea to put shocks in cuffs?
“What the fuck is going on,” she muttered. “SAM?”
No answer. She willed herself to take deep breaths and calm down, suddenly becoming aware that there wasn’t a shred of clothing on her either.
"Reyes?" she called out.
The rustle of fabric from the corner alerted her eyes to the right side of the room, as Reyes stepped out of the shadows, expression blank. He loomed over her, and Sara felt the weight of his gaze as it moved up and down her body, scrutinizing her with a neutral look as if she was an item for sale. She was suddenly keenly aware of her nakedness and blushed, ankles crossing in an attempt to give herself some pretense of decency.
"I always knew you were into some shady stuff but--ah!". She was interrupted by yet another jolt as she tried to move her arms. A memory rose into her mind of a similar situation; Reyes pinning her to the wall as he teased her within an inch of her life, a different time, the same game. A familiar feeling twisted in her gut and she bit her lip as she wondered what he had in store for her this time. If the cuffs were any indication…
Still it was new for him to be so quiet.
"Reyes if this is about Drack and I trashing Kralla's Song I'm sorry ok? I don’t know if it technically counts as damaging your property but I'll pay you back--".
Reyes said nothing, just dragged his gloved hands down her neck and chest as he loomed over her. She closed her eyes to his touch, trying to ignore her growing arousal as he rolled and pinched her nipples between his fingers. Dammit, he had barely touched her for more than a minute and she could feel herself start to cave. But she kept her mouth shut. It was just a game sure, but Sara had a particular proud streak and she hated to lose.
Even if he was so good at making her _break_.
His hands continued their slow deliberate slide down her body. "It occurs to me Pathfinder," he drawled, looking up at her, a predatory look in his eye, as moved his thumb up to rub circles on her thigh, causing her to squirm, "I never properly repaid you for your help with Sloane,".
She squared her jaw at him and willed her blush to fade, “I don't suppose this is always how you return the favor," she said, meeting his gaze, a false bravado echoing in her voice that she didn’t quite feel.
His thumb stopped and he bent down to her ear, "Just the ones I know who will enjoy this sort of thing," he said, hand squeezing her thigh. She let out a small whine from between her clenched teeth.
She opened her mouth, “I don’t--”
“Don’t lie to me,” Reyes snapped, as his hands abruptly left, and Sara let out a frustrated noise , missing the sensation already. She wasn’t used to waiting to get what she wanted, but damn if she was going to ask him for it. Even if that’s all she wanted to do, to spread her legs for him and beg him to get on with it.
Reyes knelt beside her, eyes level with hers as he cradled her face, his voice deceptively light, “I have it on good intel that Pathfinder Ryder enjoys being used, and I can’t think of a better way to repay her then by giving her _exactly what she wants_ ,”. He reached out abruptly, pushing her legs apart to slide two fingers at the apex of her thighs. She was already extremely turned on, and now there was no hiding it.
He examined the slick on his gloved fingers with a clinical disinterest, locking eyes with her as he sneered, “And it seems to be true,”. Sara felt her face burn as she began to sputter some half-assed denial, but Reyes presses two of his gloved fingers to the side of her mouth.
“Clean it off,” he ordered. She made a move to speak but that allows his fingers to slip past her lips. Sara whined at the taste of herself on leather as Reyes slowly moves his fingers all the way into her mouth, twisting to feel the roof of her mouth, making her head move slightly up. Her tongue tentatively lapped at his fingers as Sara sucked at them. Then Reyes adds a third, fucking her mouth sloppily and Sara is making pathetic noises, lips shiny with saliva as he abuses her mouth. He speeds up, and Sara tries to move her head back, trying to get away as his fingers hit the back of her throat, tears springing up in her eyes. This excessive movement however, causes the cuffs to shock her again, and she submits to his violation, body growing still except for the occasional whine. She squeezes her thighs together and feels herself getting wetter and wetter. | 5950a8520e504a7c93164b3e8d79b8e6 | ['43c6691b3aa14d25ba321b4cd5fb545d'] | new person, same old mistakes
**Author's Note:**
> Title is from Tame Impala's "New Person, Same Old Mistakes" which is the inspiration behind this ficlet.
>
> I actually haven't been able to find anything in the Codex regarding any sort of justice system in the Milky Way or Heleus...so I'm just drawing on Earth customs here. I'm also not quite sure where I'm going with this, so it may just be a series of drabbles.
The roar of the crowd on the Nexus was loud, too loud, and it seemed like the entire station had shown up for the meeting. The light was also too bright, too cold, too sterile like a medbay, so unlike the warm golds and reds on Kadara. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Keri reporting live, a real-time vid from the Heleus News Service streaming the entire affair to the rest of the galaxy. Sara felt like she was simultaneously in Elaaden and Voeld at the same time, her blood felt like ice but she was warm despite the climate controlled atmosphere of the Nexus. There was a loud ringing in her ears.
Director Tann cleared his throat, and the crowd grew quiet. He was joined at the front of the room by Moshae Sjefa, Keema Dohrgun, Nakmor Morda, Evfra, the Pathfinders, and the other outpost governors. ‘Funny,’ Sara thought wryly, ‘This is what it took for the Angara and the Resistance to join forces with the Milky Way species,’. She clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to keep her expression as neutral as possible.
Tann spoke, his voice grating against Sara’s ears, “The Angaran-Initiative Joint Council is now in session. We have gathered here to discuss a grave matter, one that has serious implications for both the Angara and the survival of the Initiative here in Heleus,”
Always having a flair for the dramatic, Tann stood up and paced in front of the room on the raised dais, “A few galaxy standard weeks ago, the Resistance and Pathfinders Rix and Raeka unearthed traces of troubling communications between the Kett and our defendant here. Upon further investigation, we now have evidence of something far more sinister,”. Tann stopped mid-stride, raising his arm to point at the lone man in the center of the room, suspended in a stasis field.
“This man, Reyes Vidal, is accused of treason against the Angara and the Initiative, conspiring to work with the Kett to reveal the location of Aya in exchange for something that has not yet been determined. This tribunal has been assembled to examine this matter,”. The crowd behind him roared, and some in the audience began to shout. It had only been a few months since Ryder had pushed back the Kett forces and defeated the Archon, but a steady stream of Kett attacks in the colonies had everyone on the edge. The attacks appeared to be getting more and more savage, opting to leave more charred bodies behind then taking colonists alive for exaltation.
“Reyes Vidal, how do you plead?”
Reyes looked up, and glanced directly at Sara. She wished he hadn’t, because it was about to make what he was going to say that much harder. Sara quickly looked away, trying to quash the memories of him touching her, the two of them alone on Eos, bare feet dipping into the lake by Prodomos. “I wanted to take you on a Heleus beach date,” he said grinning at her as she kicked water at him. But that may as well have taken place lifetimes ago. Out of her peripheral vision, he could see his expression soften momentarily when she averted her gaze.
A shadow fell over his face as he prepared to speak, all traces of Reyes Vidal gone from his voice. It was the Charlatan standing in front of them now. Somewhere during the soft sunset kisses and whiskey, Sara had forgotten that this man ruled Kadara, and was also dangerously close to unseating the Krogan on Elaaden to further extend the influence of the Collective. She wanted to laugh at her own shortsightedness.
`Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t right?’ she thought bitterly.
Maybe Sloane would have been simpler to deal with, less ambitious, so long as she sat on a throne and felt like she had some say Sloane would’ve been fine. But Reyes was different, insatiable in all aspects of his life, driven in more ways than she had expected and she had been so foolish to think that would change because of her. She drew a shaky breath, and hated that she could still smell him on her clothes. His scent always clung no matter how many wash cycles she put her clothes through, how many times she scrubbed her body and tried to forget. Whiskey, gun polish, and lead.
Foolish. Foolish. Foolish.
“Guilty.” he said flatly.
Sara felt bile rise up her throat.
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks for reading <3 come scream at me on Twitter @monobolical or Tumblr @gondowan. |
60d53d229deb4d8981b6010775a5a8b6 | ['43d66722cf104f379f84babf63bc747e'] | The door slammed open and the hand vanished, Buck's body tensing above him. Gunshots rang out, two, three, four, loud above his head. "Got you, you bastards. Nate, get your ass behind here." He dropped his clip and snapped another one in place. It was hot when JD touched it.
Nathan appeared a couple of seconds later. "I think it's just Charles left." he said quickly and quietly. "Couldn't see anyone else when they blew back."
"No sign of--" Buck stopped, and Nathan shook his head once.
"None."
"Damn. God damn him."
"You okay for ammo?"
"Yeah. Got Chris's weapon too if I run out."
"Nathan, he isn't waking up," Vin said calmly, his hands clasping Chris's head. JD looked closer at him, and saw tears running silently down his face. He sobbed, once, and Buck's hand ruffled his hair briefly.
"Be brave, little'un," Buck murmured, under cover of Nathan's voice.
"He's been creased by a bullet. It ain't good, but it ain't bad, as these things go. He'll have a hell of a headache--"
"You in there! You're out numbered. Drop your weapons and send out Wilmington, and I'll let the rest of you go."
All four of them froze. JD's eyes flickered between Buck and Nathan as they communicated silently in seconds. He knew that voice. It belonged to the man who had grabbed him when he'd thrown things at them at Mrs. Potter's house. The same man who'd kicked him when he'd tried to stop them putting him inside a crate. The man who slapped his face so hard that one of his teeth came out. He wondered if Da knew.
"Throw down your weapons, and we'll see to it you survive till trial," Buck called back.
"You're the last man left, Wilmington. Is your boy in there? You want him to see you die?"
JD's fist gripped tighter on his father's ankle. "Da..."
"He isn't going to." Buck murmured reassuringly. "I promise, JD."
"They're all dead out here. Who was it? Jackson? Standish? I killed Sanchez myself. And your back up, the cannon fodder at the door."
"Da?"
Buck tilted his head thoughtfully. "He's being awful quiet for a guy with all the cards and a team of gunmen."
"I was thinking that myself." Nathan whispered back, easing himself to his knees the other side of Buck, his eyes fixed on the room beyond the bed.
"Maybe Ez and Josiah took some of them with." Buck said tightly, and Nathan nodded, once.
JD felt tears welling in his eyes. He didn't want to think about it. Chris was just sleeping. He was going to wake up. And Uncle Ezra would be fine, he was *always* fine. And so was Uncle Josiah. He was too big and strong to get hurt. And Da and Uncle Nathan and Vin were going to keep him away.
But he couldn't stop the tears escaping and trickling into his sleeve, however hard he rubbed his eyes.
"Come out of there!"
No one moved or spoke, as if by some unspoken agreement they all listened intently.
A footfall. Another.
"If I have to shoot y'all, I'll kill the boys first, start with the little one. I owe him some licks. And then the older one, what is he, eight? nine? Pretty kid, I hear too. Or maybe I should keep both of them alive. Wait till he's healed up and make some profit off their pretty little butts."
"Steady," Nathan said so quietly JD could hardly hear it.
"I'm going to kill him," Buck said softly, reflectively, in a voice JD had never heard before.
"I know," Nathan spoke as quietly.
"Y'know, if that stupid cow hadn't dragged us all up here, that brat would have been halfway to his new home by now."
"Steady."
"I can make the shot."
Buck's foot began to twitch under JD's hand, and he wrapped a second one around it without thinking, to keep it still. His eyes were fixed on Buck's hands. They were rock steady, in a line with the door, holding his gun. Da was going to stop him.
"A little more. Make it sure."
It was going to be all right.
"Come on you bastard, another inch. That's it. Show your ugly face so I can give you a kiss you won't forget. Another inch..." he whispered.
"Wilmington?" the man's voice yelled again.
"Nearly there."
Two guns fired at the same moment.
\------------------------------------------------
Adrian Brown followed the SWAT team into the Pediatric unit, looking around him in horror. The place was like a war zone, everywhere he looked there were bodies.
"Got a live one!" A hand waved and a pair of paramedics hurried over to the black clad marksman. Brown stared, then hurried after them as they were about to cuff him.
"That's Agent Sanchez, ATF. He was one of the men protecting the boy," he said quickly. "How bad?"
"Looks like his armor took most of the shot. He's gonna have some horrible bruising. I'd guess it was pretty damn near to point blank, but it didn't go through. One in a billion."
"Why's he unconscious?"
The paramedic gently ran his fingers over the man's head. "Ah, here we go. I guess he probably hit the wall with the force of the shot. Not serious." He stood.
"In here!" A man's voice, and Brown, the paramedic and two of the SWAT team stepped over the bodies lying in the doorway.
Brown flinched. Another paramedic was working over Richard Kim's body. Someone had draped a sheet over Gary Fines. The officers assigned for door protection. Cold gripped him. Had the child been saved?
The doorway itself was blocked by a large body. A man, dark haired, broad shouldered.
"Any ID on this one yet?" He frowned at the bloody wounds on its back, trying to make sense of them.
"Nothing." The SWAT man crouched by it stood, wiping his gloved hands on his pants. | 845c4827c1e742b798ea289b7b4b648f | ['43d66722cf104f379f84babf63bc747e'] |
A Little Whine and Thou
Buck was cold. The weather had turned and although the days were never as cold as up in the mountains or the chill of further north, it was more than cold enough to make him tuck his hands under his armpits. More than cold enough to make him wonder if cock and balls would ever resume their normal size.
He was almost on his own in the saloon. He'd complained steadily about the cold and the damp until one by one every last person of his acquaintance had found some other place to be. He sighed, and watched morosely as the breath clouded in front of him. The wind whistled through the open bat wing doors and the cracks in the walls. No point tar-papering somewhere got shot up as often as this place did. No point caring for somewhere that in ten years would be nothing but a memory -- another bar in another forgotten town, lost when the stage changed routes or the ranchers won, or the rail went south or north.
He sighed again, more heavily. Chris was still asleep in the corner.
"If there was just a nice little thing around to take my mind off the cold," he said to the air. Not that nice was often a word the world applied to his liaisons. Light skirted. Or no better than they ought to be. Or 'fallen'. Usually took a preacher to be sanctimonious enough to call that one in the street.
Not to him, of course.
"Sweet body wrapped around ya. Your arms around a warm body. Ain't nothing like body warmth. Course, you gotta be close. Naked." His voice dropped a register, "Movin' nice and easy..."
Chris's head lifted slightly. The man looked around the room pointedly -- the empty room -- and he raised an eyebrow at Buck. "You talking to me?"
Buck grinned, "If you're awake?"
"Am now." Chris regarded Buck with something like indulgent amusement. "Why'n't you go find one of them girls?"
"Ain't in the mood..."
Chris gave him what he could only describe as an old fashioned look.
"I'm just saying, I'm not in the mood for any of the girls." Buck shifted a little in his chair, smiling as he thought about what he *was* in the mood for. "Cuddled up together. All cozy and warm under the covers as the wind blows and the snow falls outside."
"If you've seen ice on the water in the mornings it's more'n I have," Chris told him drily, and Buck sighed again.
"Too literal. That's your problem."
Chris gave this all the dignity it deserved and ignored it. "You going to shut up or should I go find somewhere else to sleep?"
Buck's smile started small and spread wide. "Well, now, since you ask, pard..."
There was the tiniest grin on Chris's face as he shook his head fractionally. "Shoulda known. If I put a stop to your whining, will you shut up?"
Buck grinned. "Maybe." But frankly, he kind of doubted it. Although he probably wouldn't be complaining...
* * *
Warm was one word for it. *Awkward** was another. He grunted as Chris's elbow dug into his ribs hard, then slipped, landing Chris squarely on his back and leaving him wondering if this was such a good idea after all. He hadn't really planned on bruises.
"You just gonna lie there?" he asked, twisting his head until he could just about see Chris's face, blurry for being too close, his chin feeling more pointed than it ever looked as it rested heavily on his shoulder.
"Maybe." He could the grin in Chris's voice, and sighed. There was no doing anything with Chris in this mood. Well. Almost no doing anything. He lifted his hips up a little, and couldn't help the indrawn breath as Chris pushed deeper inside him. Warm -- more than warm, burning him as his ass stretched to take it all. Oh, it felt so good.
Chris's hands pushed underneath him, nails scraping across his chest, bony knuckles prodding ruthlessly until Buck gave up and lifted himself slightly and let him in. Chris's arms wrapped around him, one around his waist, pulling him tight into Chris's hips, the other trailing down past his belly, and lower. Buck shuddered at the scrape of blunt fingernails in his crotch, the long fingers wrapping around his shaft and squeezing rhythmically. He tried, but couldn't hold both their weights any longer and dropped the couple of inches again, trapping Chris in place. Chris didn't seem to care. He just kept on driving hard fingers deeper, grasping him firmly and exploring him with sharp scratches and hard strokes. Buck groaned, his hips arching up off the bed and Chris chuckled under his breath.
"Lie down, boy," he whispered into Buck's shoulder. "You're letting the cold air in."
Caught between the spike of fire as Chris worked him, and irritation at Chris's smug superiority he reached back and ran a knowing hand up Chris's side, finding that one place that made him convulse and *yes*, as Chris jerked forwards, he tightened his ass, pulling the thick length deeper into him. So good.
"Feelin' cold -- not doing something right," he got out, and it was his turn to laugh as Chris moaned, slumping bonelessly against Buck's back. Warm enough now? he thought.
His skin was sweating, the hidden space between bed and groin damp and too hot, Chris's hands slipping as they moved, the sheets clinging to his belly when he lifted and tried to push Chris deeper still. He closed his eyes, savoring every inch of lean body, from bony hips to muscled chest, plastered along his back. Close and heavy, hot and sweaty. He spread his legs wider and Chris shifted from straddling him to between his thighs. He wasn't sure that it was possible to go deeper, but the fit was closer, more intimate, pushing his buttocks apart. |
dbb4fd12d08e47e881f50a701317b861 | ['43e54b65678840078a6a0bc0d89410b8'] |
Lost Notes and Butts
Young man rushed around the room, picking up things and tossing them wherever. He was like a tornado of disorganization. Nick’s eyes followed ritual silently. Blast radius game set had seen better days. One of man’s orphaned cats fleed the scene, slinking between his legs and running out of house.
Next Aiden jumped to couch. So close in his guest the boy didn’t stop but crawled right over Nick. “Something lost?”, he asked from butt that moved so vigorously as boy tossed pillows down.
“I’ve lost it”, boy groaned and jumped quickly down from sofa again.
“You indeed have”, Nick turned new page of boston paper. Loose page got swept by strong breeze or Aiden. Either was possible. The middle page of newspaper flew out of open window and Nick sighed deeply. Man came back to the couch, this time browsing through shelf behind the couch. He leaned in, lower part of body balancing against couch back.
As boy pushed himself over the sofa, his back arched and buttock’s firmness was difficult to ignore. Aiden moved too much, almost slipping over the couch. Luckly Nick was there to grab the boy and put him down. To his lap, to be exact.
He put hand on young man’s back. Other moved down to buttocks, giving a surprise firm slap to left of them. Aiden let out surprised gasp: “Hey ow!”, he wiggled, prompting Nick to grab harder.
“You’re moving way too much for my liking”.
“Someone has cleaned up the garage. And my desk”, man young breathed deep, chest weaving against his feet: “I had blueprints, several pages worth of notes”, tender hands tapped on his feet restlessly. Nick petted boy’s back softly, like trying to calm down a wild feline.
“Even the whole library of notes I’ve made for Codsworth”, boy whispered, eyes searching surroundings.
The slightly upwards stretched buttocks under his gaze were giving him slightly different ideas.
Hand pushed down, massaging the soft buttcheek through the fabric. He heard faint gasp and Aiden turned his head.
“What are you doing?”, boy asked weakly.
“Admiring you”, man responded, hand firmly pinching boy’s buttcheek. Hand rose and he slapped buttcheek again.
“Is this… really the right time?”, boy gasped, cheek visiting his leg. ‘
“Yes”, Nick slid finger against valley between AIden’s buttcheeks, as finger slid down boy moved softly. It wasn’t twitch moving, he heard faint promise of moan, a soft curl of fingers against his thigh. Boy’s buttocks heaved softly and he saw soft wrink drawing on lower back as young man’s back arched. Nick groped right cheek crudely. Next slap was stern and Aiden let out louder moan.
“I… haven’t done this befor-”, Nick cut boy’s chatter with new slap. Aiden was still tense, still sore. Nick’s hand moved up on jumpsuit. Aiden’s usual style was wear it with upper part tied on his waist. He approved the look and the ease of undress. He wrapped sleeves open under boy’s stomach. Aiden lift himself in his lap and obedient as ever drapes himself back to his lap. He slid jumpsuit and boxers down the waist, exposing pale young butt. Rosey skin was peppered with freckles and lovemarks. When partner had such lovely skin it was waste to not mark it.
He slid metallic hand up the buttocks, caressing way up to the fissure. Nick was careful as he moved cold fingers down the creek and touched the butthole gently. Aiden’s butt twitched, forcing him to pull hand off: “God it’s so cold”, Aiden whimpered, rubbing his palm against the thigh. Hand’s movement was sneaky but not unnoticed. Boy grabbed him, brushing long fingers against his length: “Don’t stop”, he whispered.
Nick pushed his more human hand down the alley between gap, Aiden pushed softly as his fingers slid against the buttcheek. His hand continued down, feeling as boy’s waist pushed against the thigh. Something hard rubbed down there. Nick grabbed the lower back, pressing boy down as he worked both of their cocks. He grabbed the soft skin with metal, giving it quick firm slap. Boy moaned, judging the briskness of cry that might have hurt a little. He brushed fingers back down and rubbed the skin. Teasing, he moved hand down and against the butthole.
“Mm, Nick please”, Aiden purred, waist moving against hand. Boy’s fingers gripped tightly against cock.
“Please what?”, Nick had to concentrate to keep his voice stable and cool. Index finger brushed against butthole, softly rubbing the area: “Tell me”.
“Fuck me”, Aiden breathed hard, butt arching even nicer: “Please”.
“You’re so impatient”
“I want you inside”, Aiden turned his head slowly, cheeks flustered and eyes full of warmth and sin: “You. Mmh, fingers. Anything”, boy moaned.
How could he tease anything that precious. Boy’s hair was all curly and messy, his blue eyes were half-closed and his hand wouldn’t stop stroking. Nick brought his right hand up to lips, licking his fingers. There wasn’t moisturize but he had noticed Aiden’s fondness to the gesture. This time wasn’t different. He pushed right hand to the alley, travelling down and sliding middle finger inside. Just the tip first. He softly moved fingertip in and out, making Aiden quiver already.
“That’s.. too much”. Boy’s hip swayed against his hand, begging for more. Come deeper. Nick slapped the butt, pushing more moans out of boy. As he pushed finger deeper, he felt young man trembling throughout. Boy bit his lip, waist frozen, face red with shame and lust.
“You like this bit too much”, Nick murmured. As finger started moving deeper and faster, Aiden dissolved into blushing, moaning, curling mess.
“Mmmh”, boy couldn’t comprehend words.
His waist wasn’t held up anymore. He was slumped but still receiving. Young man’s hands held onto his thigh and couch pillow, breathing out muted cries and whimpers.
Could anyone really resist that? Nick pulled finger out. He had own hard on to solve. Aiden stroked his crotch tiredly, looking up to the synth. | e4638e7a4ce1437e9928489651d70e0b | ['43e54b65678840078a6a0bc0d89410b8'] |
1. Waking up
**Author's Note:**
> (I Usually I'm a one off person so this is a challenge. The first chapter is kinda re-telling of game's intro but I'll break free of format in second chapter)
Nobody was ment to be waking up like this.
All numb, with fingers barely giving response. Only his eyes were operating. Time, what time? Aiden could feel the time passing in front of his face and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Slowly as time passed his limbs started responding and soon moving. His first attempt at walking resulted in dropping down to the hard floor. While lying on harsh metal floor he was so glad to be feeling again. He slammed the metal hud in front of his face. He tried leg and miraculously, the door slung open.
First step and Aiden barely grasped in the side of pod as his legs gave up and he fell on cold floor again. He gasped as air travelled within his lungs. His insides felt torrid and heavy, air within lungs burned. Aiden slumped and started coughing, trying to cackle the bad air out. His claws grasping the metal he coughed good minute. He tried vomiting but nothing came out. Just that horrid stomach liquid taste. He needed water to wash this out. Water?
Aiden hauled himself back to sitting position, finally letting go of metal frame.
He consciously focused on breathing. He let air flow in and slowly lifted his head. Neck muscles cricked but were onboard nevertheless. His eyes fixated on roof. He had barely had any time accessing surroundings when they were pushed into the pods. His re-waking brain decided this would be great time to study. Seeing all the metal made him uneasy. This was like being swallowed alive by some fantastic beast. How would he had coped living in here?
Gently he looked downwards, to the long line of pods. He had been one amongst many.
This thought kicked in stark realization. Air whistled within dry lungs. Images rushed in. Sharp alert whistles, getting pushed around, Shaun crying. Shaun?
Rush kicked his stomach. It told him to get up. He put feet down and hands to ground and pushed himself up. Legs felt weak and sloppy when he carried himself over to the pod across his own. He saw Nora, frozen in unnatural pose. Shaun was nowhere to be found. He banged on the pod, hurting himself. How do you get this thing open? He looked around and everything looked the same. He could had probably missed the leaver if it hadn’t been crimson and jumped out of all dab grey so darn well. Aiden pulled the leaver.
Pod door slided open way too slow. Nora lied still, Shaun was nowhere to be found. He tried reaching to her. Bullet hole on head was all. Aiden felt cold, he felt lost and alone. All emotions struck at once. Somehow he managed to stay on two feet. He squeezed hands around his shoulders as his body started shaking and eyes watered. There was nothing left. Tears clamped in his frames and he sniffed uncontrollably. He hadn’t even looked at other pods but he knew it didn’t matter.
Cheeks wallowing he looked to the right. Bright red leaver on huge metal door caught his attention. He massaged his shoulders, shivering. Cold was going right to his bones. He couldn’t stay here. Aiden looked at his wife one last time, gasping.
“I… I’m going to be back”, he whispered faintly.
He turned his back and slowly put one feet in front of another. Joints cracked faintly under pressure but he didn’t fall. Numbness of limbs was slowly going away. He kept his arms firmly wrapped around his chest until he reached the door. He was surprised the mechanism was still fully functional. Which raised question how this could had happened. He watched as door unfold and another memory surfaced. Shaun had been taken away by scientists. Except one of them wasn’t bearing anything sciency about him. Stepping into next tube the coldness let up a bit. That’s where the smell started. Aiden’s stomach sharply rejected. He had smelled something similar when he had visited cousin’s farm as a kid. But shit never smelled this foul. He tried covering nose with hand but the stench had already made nest in his tastebuds. He quickly discovered the source of it all.
In the middle of cold floor lied giant cockroach corpse next to a human remains. Sight went right to his core. Body lied face down, dressed in vault suit. Under skeletal hand lied police baton. Aiden stared at monstrous cockroach. He never wanted to be this aware of anatomy of this repugnant creature. Neck tickled and forced out a cough that echoed in chamber. Suddenly air filled with loud rustling. Oh Christ no.
Aiden looked on skeleton and the baton suddenly became very inviting. He reached towards weapon. He gasped as his finger touched bare bone and he quickly stepped back with baton. Door to hallway was open and he could see skittering big legs coming.
Aiden had seen plenty of cockroaches but usually rolled up newspaper was enough to tame them. This one looked like it had escaped from the pages of Space Tales. Instinctly Aiden plundered ugly critter somewhere on head region with baton. Insect hissed and caused shivers down his spine. Aiden swatted again, this time hitting the hardened shell. Impact cracked cockroach’s shell. It’s gooy insides splattered all over him. Aiden almost vomited, trying to furiously swipe the foul liquid off. |
68148ed16e6642828bf1815c6e05b028 | ['43eb734c6dcd4da5a19993ec4cea6c69'] | "Good," Rohan commented quietly as he moved onto the bed with the newfound space given to him. He sat in a kneel on the mattress in front of Kira, comfortably seated on both of his legs as he fiddled briefly with a bottle of lubricant previously procured. "Very good."
Kira swallowed, feeling his hips give a slight buck as he heard a _pop_ — assuming it to be from a bottle of some sort. He laid there in anxious silence, occasionally squirming before, finally, he's greeted with a finger poised at his asshole. It's blatantly slick, wet with, perhaps, an overly generous amount of lube. He sucked in a breath as he felt another hand, firm yet careful, anchor itself down onto his hip. He only began to exhale once the finger made its way in, the breath leaving him almost in sync as the digit's speed.
"How is it now?" Kira heard Rohan ask, and he could only moan in response. It's returned with a brisk chuckle. "Decent, I take it."
The finger hooks at a subtle angle, pressing against Kira's insides and causing for the man to flinch. His thighs flex and his legs twitch, but he doesn't make any sort of attempt to get away. Instead, all he does is lay as flat as he can against the bed as he feels Rohan's finger slowly thrust in and out of him. His arms remained above his head, connecting and intersecting at the wrists as his mouth falls open in wordless, breathy gasps, but he's still calm enough. He thinks he's capable of dealing with just this and, as such, lets his legs fall further open.
"You're that desperate, huh?" Rohan asked while continuing to thrust his finger deep into Kira. His other hand remained firmly planted onto his hip, giving a reaffirming clench of dominance shortly after. "You're so easy... I'm not complaining, though."
His finger continued, seeing no point in relenting. After one particular breach, though, he felt Kira jolt and tighten briefly around the digit. Almost as fast as it had come, the muscles loosened, and Rohan lowered his gaze. A low, thoughtful hum escaped as he pulled his finger out halfway before pushing it back in, aiming for the same trajectory as before. His fingertip brushed against what he assumed was Kira's prostate, stopping a mere half of an inch away from stroking it. He raised his eyes, glancing up at Kira's flush face with his teeth now biting hard into his lip. All Rohan could do, however, was smile. A thin bead of sweat ran itself down the side of his face as he lowered his stare once more.
Kira's chest haphazardly heaved in wordless gasps and grunts, increasing suddenly in velocity once Rohan added in a second finger. He felt the two digits wriggle and slide in and out of him, the younger man silently pleased with the amount of give that was available to him. Without realizing it, he had tried to twist his hips away— no, he had tried to push his hips closer to Rohan and was stopped short by the other man's hand holding him in place. Giving a whine, he released his lower lip and writhed uselessly.
"It must be _torture_ for you. Y'know what I mean? You can't see what I'm doing."
It wasn't returned with a single word but, instead, with a low moan that immediately increased in length the moment Rohan crooked his fingers. The tips of his index and middle fingers steadily stroked at Kira's prostate, leaving the man trembling and his dick leaking steady amounts of pre-come onto his abdomen. This didn't escape Rohan's watchful eye, provoking an amused and borderline laugh out of him.
"What a sight you are. I'm barely touching you—" depending on who was being spoken to, that could easily be taken as a lie "—and you're already _that_ far gone? _Heh_ , wow..."
Despite the chastising, Rohan didn't deem it worthy to stop. He continued to let his fingers drag their tips lazily against Kira's prostate. Moans of increasing volume began to fill the room, Kira arching his back in the meanwhile as his arms had started to cross their selves over his eyes. He screwed them tightly shut behind the blindfold as he could do nothing to stop the onslaught of Rohan's fingers. It's not like Kira _wanted_ for him to stop, anyway, though.
" _Ah_...! Rohan, please— I... I'm— _please_..." was all Kira managed to say throughout the ordeal, biting back some moans while others had effortlessly come out without further argument. His legs gave sporadic twitches, grinding the heels of his shoes into the mattress as he felt his stomach quiver and throb. "I don't— I don't know if I-I can—"
Come had begun to pool in the thin crevices of his abdominal muscles, his cock fully hard and laying flat against his stomach. Rohan acknowledged Kira's attempts at communication yet didn't bother to interact properly, more-so amused by the scene of Kira as his personal favorite— desperate, needy, and helpless.
Without warning, he returned to his previous ministrations; his fingers began thrusting in and out of Kira at a nearly unbearable pace. It was almost rough, but Kira didn't complain. All he could do was continue to moan, coming close to a _mewl_ as he felt Rohan's slender fingers brush against his prostate sporadically throughout it all. He shook violently, inhaling in the form of hiss through the cracks of his fully beared teeth. | 1489af2836aa4764b967fb6b547fda73 | ['43eb734c6dcd4da5a19993ec4cea6c69'] | And, ah-- he’s shown too much. There was a brief pause within ministrations, Shuu’s eyes going wide at the reveal with his hand freezing in the air’s midst. Fingers twitched, and Naki saw it but would say nothing. He felt fingers loosen within his hair for but a moment’s time being immediately returning to their original strength. He braces himself for another ( _hard! it hurts, it hurts, it hurts! but he wants it! replace the hurt with another kind of hurt!_ ) and sobs when he feels the burn before the crash.
( _this is what i want. give it to me._ )
He wants to beg for him. He wants to plead with him. He wants to call out “ _harder_.” with what’s left of his voice. He wants to **hurt**.
( _i need it. i need it so bad. i need it more than anything._ )
But it’s so hard. It’s so, so hard.
This pain... was so familiar. It’s strangely lovely. It’s something he wants to keep and to hold close to his heart. The tears have since stopped, and he finds himself already missing their presence. Hands claw, having lost their hold once again and desperately clinging for any show of support. He doesn’t want to rip the fabric yet, in the back of his head, knows he’s already done that. It’s stretched out and worn thin, and it’d surely be seen as ugly later on. Naki peered up at Shuu, with a mystified expression.
For once does Naki enjoy the sensation. For once does he find something _softer_ than the feeling of death. Dying’s such a commodity, he believes. It’s something he’s been so unsure of for a while ( _live without yamori? die with yamori? he’s not sure and it hurts!_ ), and he’s never been bold enough to simply ask. Instead, he wanted to replace it. He wanted to forget. He wanted to feel something different. He wanted to share himself-- expose himself.
And so he dares to speak. He dares himself to be bold.
“H _hh_ \--”
Shuu stops, patient and quiet. He’s breathing through his nose, but Naki could see how exhausted he’s slowly becoming.
“-- _hh_ harder.”
He’s unsure if he should be grateful for the interlude. It allowed for more and more thoughts to seep through ( _gagi and guge would still be here if it wasn’t for you. yamori would still be here if you **were** there. miza wouldn’t have nearly died if you were useful for once in your fucking life. and if it weren’t for you, shuu would’ve-- ... would’ve..._), and Naki’s eyes begin to water again. Just before these tears began their downwards stream once again, Shuu’s lips pursed in a little coo.
“This is the last one, _mon ange._ ”
It’s embarrassing, but he can’t remember what that meant.
Maybe he’ll ask later... if he can remember. He wants to know.
Naki’s eyes flutter shut at the assurance, though. Breath was held with shoulders tensing only to grow lax seconds later. His rapid heartbeat was almost a rhythm at this point, thumping hard and rough against the drums of his ears. It was nearly enough to drown everything out--
“... _Je suis désolé_.”
\--but only nearly.
* * *
He’s gone to great lengths to clean up.
This mess? It _was_ his, after all.
Tenderness-- it’s almost alien to Naki when comparing it to a mere half of an hour ago.
A tissue ( _light pink in color. naki doesn’t know why shuu has them in those shades but never asked why._ ) dabbed itself at Naki’s lip. He struggled all the while, wincing and flinching back until Shuu held him by the jaw. Smudged was the blood until Shuu licked the tip of his thumb, wiping away the leftovers and the leftovers’s remnants.
“...”
He noticed the way Naki refused to look directly at him. He smiled, though, and stifled back a sigh. Admittedly, it hurt to smile but... wasn’t that was what he was supposed to do? Fake a smile? Pretend like everything was okay? He’s done it before, and he’s gotten away with it before. So, with that in mind, it was okay, wasn’t it? It was okay. And even if it wasn’t, he’d make it okay.
“Ya didn’t wanna do it, did you?”
Hesitation. Reluctance. Embarrassment.
Previously peering down at the tissue, fluffing at its corners and turning it around to find clean spots, Shuu paused and peered up at Naki. The question, while reasonable and almost expected, wasn’t something he had been preparing to answer.
“Why do you say that?”
“...”
“Naki, I--”
“Ya didn’t want to. I heard what ya said back there.”
( _ah... shit._ )
“I dunno what it was, but... I know it wasn’t good.”
He blinked, still trying to keep the smile nonetheless. It faltered. It’s always quick to falter, especially when he saw Naki lean forward. Eyes fought back the urge to shut ( _escape the situation. he can’t tell him the truth. not right now. maybe not ever. it’d only make him cry, and he can’t make him cry any more._ ), mistaking the action as an initiation for intimacy. It’d be easier to avoid, after all. Maybe he’s lied his way out of another situation and--
“‘M sorry.”
\--oh.
Naki’s rested his head on his shoulder, nearly nestling close to the crook of his neck. He heard him suck in a breath ( _he remembered he put on a special kind of perfume earlier. he wanted to ask naki’s opinion on it._ ) before he felt arms lazily wrap around his waist. Naki scooted closer, clumsily draping his legs over Shuu’s, and he... he let it happen.
“Why do you say that...?” he asked again, voice growing weak as his own arms draped themselves around his dear’s shoulders.
Initially, his answer was silence, and he’s uncertain if he liked it. |
c242baa99151459f917548dcef1028a5 | ['43f75a7f1239416bb2dcbeca6852e6d6'] | '' Oh my god, I am so sorry. I was not looking where I was going I just got back from this horrible blind date and all I wanted to do was eat some pasta and wallow for a bit. I don't know why I am telling you this but I really am sorry for running into you. '' She babbled, blinking rapidly as she processed the words she uttered.
Her honesty was disarming. In his line of work was very rarely uttered so easily. He was immediately intrigued by this girl and not for usual reasons. Despite his acute desire to have her in his bed she wasn't another one of his conquest he truly did want to get to know her. Even in the brief seconds he had met her she had definitely left him with a last impression.
'' It's fine, Miss... '' he trailed off.
Felicity opened her mouth to answer when they were interrupted by Mr.Smoak booming voice.
'' Felicity, Sweetheart. Why are you back so early? '' He asked warmly.
suddenly it become clear exactly who she was. She was Damian Smoaks daughter.
A sudden wave of disappointment washed over him. Despite it never being one of the rules set by the Brotherhood he was pretty sure it was definitely frowned upon fraternizing with other mobs bosses daughter plus he doubts that Damian wouldn't take kindly to Oliver having any kind of relationship with his daughter.
'' Like expected father, that date was extremely dull '' She said as she rolled her eyes.
Her father frowned, '' Ray is a good man ''
'' Sure, just not the man for me '' She deadpanned, than her gaze slid over to Oliver for a moment. Her father followed her line of sight.
'' Ah. I see you met Oliver Queen. This is my daughter, Felicity Meghan Smoak. '' Damian said cordially, but Oliver noticed the tension around his eyes.
Oliver smiled, '' Nice to meet you Felicity Meghan Smoak. '' He murmured. He watched in delight as her eyes widened at the sudden deepness in his tone. She was clearly affected by him as much as he was by her.
'' Just Felicity '' She corrected him softly, to which he nodded.
Once again, her father interrupted them, '' Unfortunately, Oliver was just leaving. I recall you having some business to attend to. '' The sharpness in his voice was unmistakable. Solidifying the thought that Damian did not approve.
'' It was nice meeting you Miss Smoak '' He said and for a moment he swore he saw her face drop in disappointment but almost immediately her expression became unreadable.
A small smiled spread across her lips, '' Likewise ''
And with one final goodbye to Damian he exited the restaurant. He repeatedly told himself not to look back as made his way towards the vehicle that was stationed on the curb but despite his best efforts he glanced back one more time. She was staring at him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Oliver yearned to taste that lip for himself.
Abruptly he whirled around to see Diggle had opened the door to the backseat. He slid inside getting comfortable in the plush leather seats. His head fell back against the headrest as he sighed deeply. He had yet to meet a women that affected him so quickly. Sure they're had been many women's to which the attraction was instantaneous but this was different. It felt different.
Oliver cursed loudly. There was no point in dwelling over this since he probably would never see her again and if he did it didn't change the fact that she was unattainable. He wouldn't put everything he hard-worked so hard for one the line for one girl. Would he?
2. Animals
Baby, I'm preying on you tonight
Hunt you down eat you alive
\- Maroon5
After his meeting with Damian, Oliver was itching for a few drinks to get his mind off things. Maybe even find a suitable companion for the night. Anything that could make him forget about the babbling blonde that he had encountered earlier in the evening.
He ultimately decided that he would go to Verdant the club he Co-Owned with his best friend, Tommy Merlyn.
Oliver was more of a silent partner, most didn't even know the club partially belonged to him since Tommy Merlyn was the only one who ran it. Tommy spent almost every night making sure that everything ran smoothly. He always claimed they had a reputation to uphold.
The club was not a front for any criminal activity, at all. That was mainly the reason so few knew that he had shares in it. Tommy wasn't a part of the Brotherhood, He knew about Oliver position and what it was but that was about as much Oliver would involve him.
That was a part of his life that he wanted to keep separate from Tommy. Other than Thea who he rarely saw because of they're strained relationship Tommy was the only tether he had to his past. After the death of his parents, Oliver had lost it. It wasn't that they were good parents he remembers his mother being cold and distant and his father always disproving but nonetheless they were his flesh and blood. There passing meant that all their responsibilities now rested squarely on his shoulders at that time he wasn't ready so he fled as fast as he could leaving behind his broken-hearted little sister and his loyal best friend. Tommy forgave him. Thea didn't.
He saw Tommy stationed upstairs, where the offices were located he was leaning against the railing watching the crowd below.
Oliver made his way upstairs ignoring the people that attempted to speak to him. He wasn't in the mood tonight. | 9af13b5181614a6f926cb67c99af3b75 | ['43f75a7f1239416bb2dcbeca6852e6d6'] | Felicity caved to his wishes as she became languidly pulling out before sinking back into his warm heat. The pain quickly started transform into blinding pleasure, the kind that him crying out Felicity name. It felt so good. The tip of the dildo was brushing against his prostate making the sensation even more heightened.
But than Felicity was pulling back causing him to follow her movements, '' No! No! '' He cried out incoherently. Felicity hips stilled to Oliver disappointment but then he realize what he had said.
'' Don't stop, please don't fucking stop '' He rambled as his hips thrusted back onto the dildo.
She picked up pace as she fucked him till he was practically shaking. Deep guttural groans were being torn from his throat with each thrust of her hips. His ass clenching drawing her in deeper as he rutted against the pillow. He was so close. The cock was splitting him open and filling him completely was too much.
'' Mistress, I need to cum. Can I cum? '' He asked. He stopped his movements his eyes sealing shut as he tried stave off his orgasm.
'' Yes baby, cum for me '' She murmured sending him spiraling over the edge. It felt like he was on fire every muscles in his bed burning with pleasure. He spilled his seed onto the sheets. His orgasm was so intense it had him sobbing into the sheets.
Carefully Felicity had pulled out of him and peeled off the strap on before crawling on the bed. She cupped his face in her dainty hands and leaned down to kiss him passionately.
'' You did so well. '' She mumbled against his lips her thumb running against his cheekbone.
Oliver grinned sheepishly, '' That was really good. '' He admitted.
'' The hottest thing I have ever seen '' Felicity said biting down on her bottom lip as she replayed the entire thing in her head.
They both had came to same conclusion this was going to happen again. and again. and again.
**Author's Note:**
> I know this is different but idk i always thought this would be hot and i am firm believer that oliver is a sub. what do you guys think? And do you guys want me to start a sub!oliver series? maybe? no? Feedback is lovely. |
7dda1b1aaaa2457e93181a8e1dc7e998 | ['4400ac8d797a41279271db19b3dd3b44'] | Silence overcame the two men and Mark wasn’t entirely sure whether he was supposed to laugh or not. Even if it had been intended as a joke, Vincent Wang had hit the nail on the head. Richard Tuan and innocent in the same sentence was ludicrous. Mark had learnt that the hard way.
“Anyway,” Vincent cut through the silence like a knife through butter, “you need anything, son, and you call. Family helps family.”
Despite Mark’s initial (and still existing) wariness of Vincent, he needed allies and he needed them desperately. Establishing himself was going to be an almost impossible task, however, having the loyalty and allegiance of the Wang family would only benefit him. And he was Jackson’s father; Mark trusted Jackson, trusted his childhood friend who respected his father fiercely. They were Richard and Vincent’s kids, the future of the Tuan and Wang names, and Mark wanted, more than anything, to uphold the bond that his father had fostered almost half a century ago.
Mark shook Vincent’s hand, feeling the sheer force and strength in the man’s muscles as his bones almost creaked. “Thank you, Sottocapo Wang, I appreciate and return the sentiment.”
Vincent disappeared into a circle of suited men, _his_ men, with a nod of gratitude and Mark finally let out a relieved breath. His face still felt heated as if a spotlight had been glaring down on him during the whole conversation, exposing any flaws or cracks for the right person to worm through. He still didn’t know where he stood exactly with the older man; whether Vincent would continue as _his_ underboss, step down or even cut away from the family altogether. Mark didn’t know which possibility worried him most.
Guests continued to approach him and Mark had to adjust to the surreally bizarre way they greeted and interacted with him. The women fawned over him, laying kiss upon kiss on his cheeks and joyously praising his return, their faces glowing reverently despite the miserable reason they were there. A few women even gripped his hands in theirs, his thin fingers still in surprise as they pressed devout kisses into his skin like the good God-fearing citizens they were. He supposed they feared him more now than any deity.
The men shook his hand but not with the ease or informality of an acquaintance. They squeezed and grasped and clutched at Mark as if their physical might alone could show him how loyal they were to, not only his father and his name, but now to him too. Even one man had kissed his hand in an act of desperate approval; Mark too shocked to do anything but let him. He tried to remember how his father would greet people at parties when he was a child; impassive, patient with the crowds of people clamouring to touch or even see him and, particularly, unreadable. No one could read his father’s expressions and, therefore, did not know where they stood with him, allowing his father to always have the upper hand.
However, the Dons were a different story entirely. Mark could pick them out clearly in the mass of guests; older, suited men positioned in the middle of a group of other, suited men, an old protection technique Mark was definitely familiar with. His father hadn’t travelled anywhere without at least two men at his side, their eyes flitting around for possible dangers and hands discreetly in pockets to grab what was needed if it came to a fight. Greeting a Don as a family member or associate would shake some men to their core; it required the utmost respect and submission. Nothing except a kiss to the hand was acceptable, it had been and always will be the only way to communicate the reverence and loyalty of the lower hierarchy. Don to Don was a particular type of respect; boss to boss, a meeting of equals. If a Don disrespected another Don in any sort of way, it could almost lead to all-out war. In this distinct case, Dons would lean their cheeks against each other on both sides, the kiss of respect unspoken but acknowledged.
Don Im was unmistakable; you couldn’t miss the colossal-sized man standing at over 6 feet and weighing in at about 200 pounds and, especially, the long, deep scar sliced down his left cheek from his eye to his chin. A mark shrouded in mystery, no one actually knew who or what the scar’s culprit was. Nevertheless, it took Don Im’s menacing aura to a whole new level. An acute businessman, Don Im had risen the Im family from a small-time betting business to a seat amongst the Four Families, the most formidable crime families in the city. His outreach even stretched as far as Busan; he was a man on a mission to create an empire.
At first glance, Don Kim was a fragile, aged man with kind laughter lines and an inviting chuckle that made him come across as more of a harmless grandfather than a ruthless crime boss. However, first glances can be deceiving, and Don Kim had written the book on deceit. A climber, Don Kim had worked his way up in the Jung family from a lowly errand boy in his teens to a capo; an important position in the mob. He had a group of soldiers reporting directly to him and earned a substantial percentage in the family, enough to provide his family with any luxuries they desired. Regardless, it hadn’t been enough for Don Kim. In a night still referred to as the Chuseok Bloodbath, Don Kim took out his boss, his underboss, the family consigliere and every other capo in a matter of hours. It was bloody and it was a success; the Jung family ceased to exist, Kim was elected Don in the early hours of the morning and had not been challenged since. | 4d0d520d9acb4bb0b22ce35e95456043 | ['4400ac8d797a41279271db19b3dd3b44'] | Looking away from the files for a moment, Tony nodded fleetingly, before focusing back on his search. “He told me to leave. Go all the way underground and not talk to anyone, not even to Dabin. Two days later… he was gone.”
“So why are you back?” Mark questioned the older man, rising up from his chair anxiously. “You could be in danger, Ton!”
“Have you found it?” Tony demanded, eyes probing into Mark’s.
Mark stared back at him in puzzlement. “Found what?”
“Then you haven’t.” Tony concluded and he moved to the large wooden desk, the Don’s desk. Running his hands over the sides of the drawers, it seemed as if the older man was trying to find something in the desk. “I had to come back, make sure you found it… aha!”
With a clicking noise, a hidden side-compartment opened in the right column of the desk and Tony removed a manila envelope. Mark’s eyes bulged; _there’d been a hidden compartment in my father’s desk this entire time?_
The older man handed the envelope over to Mark and Mark looked down, stilling at the sight of his name written in black marker.
Written in his father’s handwriting.
“He made me promise that if he wasn’t here anymore, that I was to get this to you.” Tony confessed, squeezing Mark’s hands supportively over the manila envelope. “Only you. No one else can see what’s inside.”
Mark’s eyes watered as he stroked his fingers over his father’s handwriting. “Ton…”
Tony pulled Mark into another hug, earnestly contrite. “I should’ve been here. To guide you, to help you through this. Forgive me.”
Incapable of speaking over the aching lump in his throat, Mark merely nodded. For weeks, he had cursed Tony for walking out on his family when they had needed him most. However, Mark finally understood why Tony was given no choice but to run. The secrets he knew, the information he had been privy to during his time as the Tuan Consigliere; in the wrong hands, it could bring his family to ruin. By disappearing, Tony had been protecting Mark and his family all this time, forever loyal to the Tuan name.
The older man looked around the office he had worked in for nearly half a century for the last time. “Just… do him proud. Your father. This, all of this that he made… it was all for you, Mark. Don’t let him down.”
_That’s easy,_ Mark thought. _The hard part is getting justice for him._
“And tell Dabin…” Tony sniffed and Mark swore he could hear the old man’s heart break just a little. “Tell her I’m sorry.”
A floorboard creaked somewhere upstairs, most likely from a breeze, but Tony stiffened, heeding any other movement, before springing into action. He gathered up a handful of folders, rushed to the door, looking back at Mark one last time with a wry grin, and disappeared into the black of the house.
The room was silent once more and Mark remained in the middle of the room, staring at the envelope in his hands. He had searched this entire office for weeks on end, hours wasted away with Jackson rifling through the entire filing system in hope of _something,_ anything that could help him, that could open his eyes. All this time, what he had needed had been right under his nose, hidden beneath his fingers atop the desk, waiting for him.
Was he even ready to read what was inside? His hands shook with expectation; expectation that could very well end in disappointment. He couldn’t even remember the last word he had spoken to his father, the last conversation they’d had. Over time, the memory had disintegrated, leaving Mark with nothing but meaningless fragments. This envelope, whatever was inside, would be the last thing his father would ever say to him.
Ripping open the seal, Mark reached in and took out several sheets of paper, the first clearly addressed to him. Swallowing deeply, Mark read his father’s last letter.
_Mark,_
_I am afraid that if this envelope has reached you, I am no longer here. It is a shame that I will never be able to tell you this in person, however, I still mean every word whether spoken or in writing._
_If you are reading this, you clearly have returned home. I knew this would come to pass; you are a not a son that would sit by and let your mother struggle. Do not let her further into this world than is necessary. We must protect her together now._
_It has been difficult for you, I know. This has not been your world for some time now and it would not have been your free decision to return to it. However, we all must meet our destinies at some point. I have met mine and now you must meet yours. Deep in your heart, you know this to be true. Try not to fight it any longer, son; you must now pick your battles wisely. They say the sins of the fathers are visited upon the children. My sins are heavy, Mark; you must shoulder the burden._
_You are an intelligent boy. I am certain you know by now that my death was no mere accident. For some time, I have been aware of the fact that I am being watched. Hence, I have begun to withdraw from the family business as much as I can. I refuse to put everything I have built at risk, as I’m sure you can understand. I will not play into my shadow’s hands._ |
7b09fb641ef34649a1dfefb00c711dbd | ['4416a0dc92674bf6ac6c6cfebe0b91e0'] | > Hey guys, I'm assuming you're all used to my shoddy updating nonschedule by now so I'm just going to stop apologizing. It is what it is. Because some people were wondering, I got offered the internship that I really wanted and everything's going well!
>
> Anyway, so yeah, this chapter was supposed to be just dinner and a movie at asami’s place, but the girls decided they wanted to take a ride and talk about Asami’s mom. Honestly, I have no control over them whatsoever; they do exactly what they want to do. I don’t know how any writers ever get any plot things done.
9. Asami Tries to Read Shakespeare and Korra Shows Off the Guns
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Korra and Asami try to find their place in the scheme of Republic City High, and Korra barely resists strangling Mako.
Asami’s face was pressed so close to the window that her breath was clouding the glass. She scrubbed across the condensation with the back of her hand and leaned even closer to rest her forehead against the glass. It was barely 5AM, so the air outside was cool, and the glass felt good against her skin. She tried to concentrate on the feeling, willing herself to stay awake.
Her dad had come back somewhere between one and two in the morning. The growl of his car engine and the quiet click of the front door woke her. She knew he was bound to leave again, so she’d crept up the stairs to the highest part of their house. The attic was a renovated housekeeper’s quarters, but Hiroshi had long since let nearly all of their hired help go and the only people who still ghosted around the empty house were Asami and an amicable but cold man who cooked meals every other weekday.
“This is stupid,” she muttered to herself, but didn’t move from her kneeling position at the window. She had to make sure.
A door swung open with an audible creak downstairs. Asami froze, the muscles in her arms clenching of their own accord. She could hear her dad’s footsteps clunking down the hallway a floor down from her. She continued to listen as he walked downstairs, bypassed the kitchen, and let himself into their spacious garage.
This was it, the moment she’d been waiting for all night. She lifted up and focused on the road in front of their house. From her vantage point, and the positioning of the house on some of the highest ground in the city, she could see most of the roads and highways twisting around each other and branching out into the different sectors and neighborhoods, like the arteries and veins of the city. Asami could even see the busy twinkling of the Future Industries tower and workshops to the north. The tower that she desperately hoped her dad was about to drive towards.
Because if he drove to the tower, that means he was going to work, and that means he was telling the truth all the times he said he was working late or fixing some important prototype. It would mean the knot in Asami’s stomach that insisted something was off could finally loosen and let her sleep.
Hiroshi’s sleek black Satomobile slid out of their garage and snarled down the street. Asami fixated her eyes on the familiar taillights, not breaking her focus even to blink. She watched as her father drove past his usual onramp onto the main highway and moaned softly as he turned down an unfamiliar road. She lost sight of his car when he turned down a smaller street towards the warehouse district and the wharfs near the harbor.
Her eyes were burning from their efforts and she let them shudder closed. The sharp noise of her open palm striking the window echoed around the empty room.
\- - - - - - - - -
Asami was sleepy. Korra scooted her chair, making an obnoxious noise in an attempt to rouse her friend. Asami’s head jerked from where it had been nodding against her hand but she just slumped farther forward instead of trying to pay attention.
As it turned out, Korra and Asami actually shared a few classes, when Asami wasn’t busy skipping hers. Right now they were in some sort of advanced literature class that Korra wasn’t sure she was qualified for. Back home there were only 7 kids in her entire class and one teacher for most of the subjects, so it was a pretty loose schooling system where they got to have a say in their curriculum and got to push a little bit about focusing on subjects they were really interested in.
Republic City High was an entirely different universe. Korra had no clue how many people were in here class, but she was fairly sure the school was more populated then most of the villages near where she lived. It was actually a huge stroke of luck that she and Asami had even one class together.
Korra was keeping a close eye on Asami and their classmates, but so far nobody had caused any trouble. She hadn’t seen Lau or his cronies yet today. But, nobody besides her bothered to talk or even smile at Asami. It hadn’t been hard to secure a seat behind her. There was a small flame of anger that Korra was carrying in her chest and every time she saw Asami snubbed by a classmate, it flickered higher and higher. If no one else wanted to give Asami a chance, Korra was just going to have to make sure Asami knew she had at least one person’s support. | bbe60daba2f948a48d1f4780ed6d0481 | ['4416a0dc92674bf6ac6c6cfebe0b91e0'] | Korra straightened up and prepared to duck down another hallway that looked exactly the same as the last eighteen hallways, but her phone buzzed in the pocket of her shorts. She whipped it out so fast it almost slipped through her fingers, but it was worth it. Asami’s name flashed on the screen and Korra whooped in relief as she swiped open the text message.
**Asami:** Your first class is in room 219. Go up the stairs at the end of the hallway where you met his morning and take a left.
Korra smiled despite the cold tone of the text. Asami promised she wouldn’t let Korra get lost on her first day, and it looked like she was keeping her word, even if she wasn’t super pleased with her at the moment. Korra typed out a quick reply.
**Korra:** Please tell me where u are. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.
Korra waited, but no reply came. She sighed and kicked at the floor with the toe of her sneaker. She just had to go and mess up the first friend prospect she had in this city, didn’t she. She turned and walked slowly back to where she thought Asami’s locker was.
Tenzin would be disappointed if she blew off class on her first day, and she knew now that Asami wouldn’t be found until Korra learned her way around the school (unlikely), or unless she wanted to be. That knowledge didn’t help loosen the guilty knot churning in the pit of her stomach.
Korra followed Asami’s instructions and slipped into her first class, History and Law, just as the echoes of the last bell faded away.
\- - - - -
Other than a haze of new faces and the irritable scraping of chalkboards, Korra didn’t remember much of the first half of her day. Asami continued to text her directions to her classes, but Korra couldn’t get her to reply back to anything else.
She was currently letting herself be pulled along in the flow of hungry students heading to the cafeteria, though she didn’t feel much like eating. All she wanted to do was go back in time and erase that last tearful look Asami had thrown over her shoulder at her.
Korra snarled in frustration and ducked out of the current. She shoved her hands in her pockets and started wandering. She could hear echoes of people talking, but they faded into silence as she got farther and farther away from the cafeteria. Soon, the only sounds were the soles of her sneakers squeaking softly against the tiles.
Gradually, a muffled thumping so quiet that Korra didn’t actually realize she was hearing it at first joined the squeaking of her shoes. She only consciously became aware of the sound when a swifter, higher pitched tapping joined it. Korra tilted her head, listening, and then turned, following the familiar noises.
It only took her a few moments to find the band room, and a few more than that to recognize the boy sitting at the drum set. He was the heavyset one who told her she was bleeding earlier that morning, the brother of the annoying hall monitor. Bolin or something like that.
His eyes were shut tight in concentration and he was pounding away on the snare drum, trying to keep a quick, heady rhythm. A sweaty curl was stuck to his forehead, but he was smiling, obviously enjoying himself.
Korra slipped into the room and smiled herself when she saw a guitar plugged into a small amp that’d definitely seen happier times. But an amp was an amp and Korra needed to lower her blood pressure after the morning she’d gotten herself into.
Bolin just about jumped out of his skin when Korra started playing, but he picked his sticks up back up quick enough after she tipped her baseball cap at him and gestured for him to keep drumming.
Neither one of them said anything, but Bolin laughed out loud when Korra really started to see what the guitar could do. It was creaky and old and probably had been played by generations of clumsy public school students, but it still made music and Korra was a fan of any tool that played along with her. Her fingers flew over the strings and she pounded out some of her favorite, lashing cords. Bolin whooped and dove into a quicker rhythm, weaving it into Korra’s noise, but still giving the music a solid foundation to rest against. It was loud, brain-busting music, and Korra worshiped it.
She didn’t sing, but her fingers snapped like firecrackers against the strings and she could feel her anger from earlier spitting out of her into the accepting haven of the band room. Bolin’s base drum thrummed against her ribcage and her heart shuddered along with it. She poured the last of her irritation into one last formidable push, and then dropped the guitar, letting it catch on the strap around her knock and knock against her hipbones.
Bolin followed a second later with one last cymbal crash that faded nothing. Both of them were panting and Korra’s fingers were burning from her efforts. She felt drained, but relieved. The tension that’d been coiling in her gut all day was looser and Korra sent a silent thank you up to the music goddesses for giving her some stress release.
“That was AMAZING!” Bolin yelled, jumping up off of his stool. His foot got caught on the leg of his base drum and he tumbled to the ground, but he bounced back up with even more enthusiasm. Korra couldn’t help but grin back at him.
“Heh, yeah it was. You’re pretty good.”
Bolin proudly puffed up his chest. He was adorable, like a puppy. Korra had to physically restrain herself from ruffling his sweaty hair. |
bb6c2679b3794b41bc8fe6c1aa319c5b | ['4420e124b35548a9b02d4b40da570f76'] | "You didn't lose Peko." Kuzuryuu sneered. "Peko only ever cared about me. She wanted my happiness more than anything. She saw me for the fuckin' sap I really am."
"Maybe you should let somebody else see."
"What do you think I brought you here for? Are you stupid? I wanted to talk. You hang out with my sorry ass every day, so I figure you can tolerate my shit."
"It'd be more tolerable if you talked to me."
"I couldn't. All I want to do is cry. If I open my mouth with everyone watching, I'll embarrass myself."
"We all understand. We all feel the same way. You shouldn't distance yourself."
"I'm not trying to. What do you think I'm doing now? I invited you up here to talk about my stupid feelings. I'm making the effort. Nobody's helping me."
"I'll help you."
"Yeah, right."
"I will. You trusted me enough to bare your soul to me, but you don't think I'll help you make friends?"
"I guess you're right..." | 489a15c6850f41e2877cac9ccc75ee32 | ['4420e124b35548a9b02d4b40da570f76'] |
Freezer Dream
All of the sounds which had normally seemed uproarious and overwhelming were muffled, as if he were underwater. They were incomprehensible, the words the men spoke around the well-lit room, and their own echoes made them even harder to make out. The enclosing space was larger than the room the men shared at home, and yet it felt cozy. The warm browns of the wood grain walls would have soothed him, were he not startled by the surreal nature of the noise that surrounded him. The countless taxidermy animal heads lining the walls added to the unsettling quality of the scenario, and he felt as though their dead eyes were fixed on him when he turned away from them. He didn’t react. He had always tried his hardest not to react to anything. He approached the round table where five men sat in five chairs. There was no seat for him. He looked around at the familiar faces of his brothers. They seemed to be getting along better than usual. Even the most high-strung brother was alight with a cheerful smile, but Ichimatsu could not hear what they were all so happy about. Their voices remained unclear. None of them seemed to notice the way he loomed over them, hunching over between his two younger siblings. They went on laughing their distorted laughs. Ichimatsu grasped at a shoulder, clothed in yellow cotton.
“Jyuushimatsu.”
The face that turned toward him was unlike anything he could conceive of from his brother. The big grin he had previously born contracted into a distinctive frown. His normally bright eyes were filled with a dull hatred that froze Ichimatsu in place. He didn’t say a word. The other four went on, joking in those warped voices, with their laughter that sounded like it came from a decades old toy. After what seemed like an eternity under that cold gaze, Jyuushimatsu turned back to the center, resuming his joviality with the rest. He looked like himself again. Ichimatsu dared not reach for him again. He couldn’t move. He was paralyzed from the neck down, numbed, left standing in place behind his brothers. All he could feel was the corners of his mouth spreading wide into a grimace, his clenched teeth exposed. Then he felt something else. A tear rolled down his cheek, cool against his hot skin. That, he felt distinctly. That one tear remained imprinted in his mind as more began to flow, soaking his cheeks which he could not reach up to wipe with his sleeve. Then, in an instant, like turning the page of a book, he was back in his own bed.
“Nii-san?” Jyuushimatsu lay beside him, staring with wide eyes. They didn’t show their usual energy, which made it clear he had noticed something wrong. Ichimatsu noticed that he had been sobbing in his sleep.
“Sorry.” The last thing he had wanted was to wake one of his brothers, especially over some ridiculous nightmare, so he tried to dismiss his emotions as hastily as possible. He withdrew the grimace, hiding his eyes beneath the comforter they all shared. “Go back to sleep.”
Ichimatsu felt some commotion from beneath the blankets. Jyuushimatsu was wriggling closer to him. The last thing Ichimatsu wanted was to be doted on, but he couldn’t escape now. He might wake someone else, and before he knew it the whole family would be awake. He only wanted to forget about this, not to be teasingly reminded of it for eternity. He had to surrender to his brother’s firm arms wrapping their way around him, and his cheek being pressed into his younger sibling’s chest. The two of them were still and silent in the darkness. Ichimatsu felt calm, almost happy. He nestled his face into a comfortable position against the breast of Jyuushimatsu’s pajamas. He could trust his brother, couldn’t he? Jyuushimatsu had always harbored more sympathy for him than any of his other brothers. He was the only one Ichimatsu felt he could consider a friend.
His head started to throb, more annoying than painful, and the way the tears had washed away the sleep from his eyes made him feel as though he couldn’t return to his slumber. His eyes simply wouldn’t stay closed. In the darkness, his mind wandered. He cursed the dream he’d had, and he cursed himself for being so affected by it. He should have known it was a dream from the start. He should have wondered how he got to such a strange place when he had just been in his own home. He should have recognized that his brothers could never really get along so well. It was pathetic of him to cry over such a thing. He scolded himself internally. He told himself that he was weak, that he would never get anywhere in this world if he couldn’t even dream without crying. It was all downhill from there. He remarked that nobody liked people like him - gloomy, unmotivated men who can’t even be bothered to brush their hair in the morning. He would never have friends, a job, or a girlfriend. Who would want someone like him around? He wasn’t worth the effort. He would stay here forever, in his parents’ home, struggling along with these brothers who rarely showed any sympathy for one another. At least it was a fun life. He really did love his brothers, for the most part. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that they didn’t love him. The bonds of family can only do so much, and he doubted he had given them any reason to care for him beyond the obligation they had as siblings. Through and through, he was unlikable, never contributing anything aside from a careless one-word thought. He told himself he had no worth. His loneliness was deserved. He hadn’t noticed the way his stomach had started to churn, and before he knew it he was suppressing more sobs. Damn it, damn it. He shouldn’t have kept thinking. He should have just gone to sleep. He tried to wriggle out of Jyuushimatsu’s grasp to stifle his voice in his pillow, but his efforts backfired. Not only did Jyuushimatsu jolt awake, but in his struggle he had kicked the brother on his other side. He attempted to play dead, going limp within his brother’s grasp.
A deep, groggy voice spoke. Ichimatsu had forgotten which brother had taken up the space beside him, but of course it turned out to be the one he least wanted near him. “What’s going on?”
“I think Ichimatsu-nii’s having nightmares.”
“Oh?” The voice sounded more awake already. The blankets shuffled in the dark as Karamatsu said up, and Ichimatsu felt a hand prod at him. “Maybe it would help if I sang him a lullabye.”
“Keep your damn lullabye to yourself, Shittymatsu.” Ichimatsu retaliated. He was glad he wasn’t face-to-face with his brother. If Karamatsu caught glimpse of his tear-stained face in the darkness, it would take all the credibility out of his insults.
Jyuushimatsu lifted Ichimatsu off the bed by his armpits, thrusting his body into Karamatsu’s lap like a bag of flour. Karamatsu in turn lifted him up to rest the back of his skull against his brothers chest, keeping his arms clasped around Ichimatsu’s midsection.
“Let go, Shittymatsu.” Ichimatsu hissed, “I’ll kill you, Shittymatsu. You know I-”
Jyuushimatsu slammed the palm of his hand over Ichimatsu’s mouth. Ichimatsu gave up on finishing his sentence. He briefly considered licking his brother’s hand, hoping he would let go, but he knew a little saliva was nothing to his brother. His hand felt sticky against Ichimatsu’s face anyway, and he didn’t want to find out what they tasted like. He surrendered, and Jyuushimatsu began to hum softly. Ichimatsu didn’t react until Karamatsu joined in, adding lyrics over Jyuushimatsu’s voice as if it were an instrument. Ichimatsu tried his hardest to look mean. This was stupid. He was stupid for being upset, and Karamatsu was stupid for thinking anybody wanted to hear his stupid lullabye, but the anger that bubbled inside him was small and weak. Karamatsu’s voice was reassuring. When he was quiet, solemn and undramatic, his words flowed pleasantly like water in a stream passing over its pebbles. The song bore a tone of innocence, of the tender love of a child for his family. Even if it came from Karamatsu’s mouth, it was comforting to Ichimatsu's ears. He tried to ignore the music, to deny its consoling presence. He thought of other things. He thought of fires, of cuts flowing with metallic blood, but as the lyrics met his ears the red gave way to blue and he pictured scattered clouds above his head, and the wooden floor of a ship’s deck separating him from the ocean below him. He imagined the waves lapping against the ship’s sides, rocking him like a baby in a cradle, and by then it was over. Without his awareness, his eyes had slid shut, eyelids sneaking over his retinas like traitorous spies. In the slumber that had overtaken him, he never noticed as his brother gently lifted his body and placed it back into its regular position. Nobody would know that the pitch-black fourth son had been bawling in his sleep the night before. |
6ddfade5e405488dae517ddc392f88dc | ['4429d2a3c5974cda8c0106d201daadb5'] | For some reason, the light-hearted and yet bindingly compulsory nature of the letter did not strike Simon as odd, not even slightly. That was just how Pascal was. The word ‘contradictory’ hung over his head like his very own Sword of Damocles, except it wasn’t a ticking time bomb of peril. The timer had long gone off.
And so, Simon sat there in the viewing room, where he would soon witness the slow, peaceful death of Pascal Maitland. Pascal was right—there were indeed reporters, and they filled in the room all at once as if they were waiting for each other to come, and once they were all there they pointed fingers to decide who would enter the room first. Of course, none of that happened. That was just what Pascal would imagine happening. When the flock of cameramen and reporters flooded the room, they immediately took pictures of Simon Blackquill, the infamous Twisted Samurai, who was apparently the to-be executed’s only friend in prison and vice versa. They asked him questions, and he either ignored them or answered with one or two words. It was easy enough to guess how the press would portray them, if the pictures made it on print—‘Known goon pays hellish imp one last visit’.
Pascal had yet to arrive. Simon was no longer the center of attention, as the vultures were busy with themselves, making phone calls about other affairs or fixing their double-breasted suits or re-applying their lipstick—the last two, Simon didn't understand why, since none of them were going to be on camera unless they wanted to take Pascal’s place. He took this opportunity to fish out the crumpled envelope he had deposited in his pocket, where he began to re-read Pascal’s entries, from the day they met to the day Simon left prison.
* * *
_**DAY 481** _
_It’s been fifteen days. Fifteen days since they got Mac out of the cell only to lock him up in another room so they could give him the one, only and last injection in Mac’s miserable life that he didn’t inject himself. (He didn’t look like someone who was ever vaccinated.) And apparently, fifteen days was all Los Angeles needed for another criminal to turn up, get caught, and take Mac’s place, which is the cell right in front of mine, the furthest cell from the left—my left. Fifteen days. Two weeks and one day. Sometimes you just wonder if being incarcerated is as scandalous as people make it out to be, seeing how increasingly common it’s getting._
_This time, the guy’s name is Simon. When he came into the block, some of the others hooted and cheered and laughed in their cells, pointing their huge, ugly-nailed fingers in the guy’s face, like a bunch of high school jocks making fun of some nerd who just got thrown into the dumpster. “I knew you were nasty!” screamed Raymond Glover. I never liked Raymond Glover. I never heard Raymond Glover—I always hear what he has to say, even if I don’t want to, because of his booming voice—refer to anyone as ‘nasty’. So, I thought, whoever Raymond Glover thought was ‘nasty’ was someone I would like to befriend. And it wasn’t just Raymond Glover. Every inmate seemed to have a personal vendetta against this guy, even though, when he entered Mac’s old cell, despite having shackled wrists and a cocky smirk on his face, I could tell right away he wasn’t a criminal, and I know people like Raymond Glover knew that too._
_They laughed at him and acted like they knew all along, for some reason, but I know they were surprised. I thought, this guy must’ve been some kind of snitch or something, if he looked like an honour student but had an entire cell block of criminals against him._
_“Hello,” I greeted Simon._
_He turned around._
_“Hello.” He said with a strange snort. “How nice it is to see there’s someone with courtesy here.”_
_I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just nodded. Then I remembered what other inmates asked me when I first got here. It seemed like the right thing to ask._
_“What are you in for?”_
_Fresh meats like Simon, who don’t look like criminals but are in fact criminals, always take a while to answer that question. I’ve talked to enough new cellmates, enough new inmates sitting alone in the cafeteria to know that. Most new Simon-type inmates can’t wrap their heads around the fact that they were now the lowest of all lows, below the Sudra, equal only to the rat that I sometimes see hanging around, and even it runs away when I try to touch it. But Simon wasn’t like that._ | c929761d0f8c456bac864564d9b54da5 | ['4429d2a3c5974cda8c0106d201daadb5'] |
Say Something
**Author's Note:**
> I highly recommend reading this while listening to this song (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iC8tP9Oo52Y).
It was all too inexplicit for Eijun. He had never been the one for big words—medical ones, especially—and that’s why he found himself furrowing his eyebrows at every word the doctor said. _Bronchoscopy. Carcinoma. Epithelial cells_. But there were two words he understood entirely.
Lung cancer.
His father squeezed his hands and his mother started to weep silently. The doctor sighed, stating this was always his least favorite part; telling the family. He said he’s very sorry and mentioned that 15% of people in the United States who were diagnosed with lung cancer survived after five years. But he didn’t mention the fact that lung cancer is the most common cause of cancer-related deaths in men and women, and is responsible for 1.38 million deaths every year.
He also didn’t mention that Eijun didn’t have five years.
Eijun stared at his legs with a blank expression on his face. He can’t give up now, of course, but it just seemed so… hopeless. Everything was bats and balls, before that night. He was with his family when it happened. He coughed up blood after having several chest pains and a high fever. The chest pains were something he had felt sometime ago, but he thought it was because of the strict coaching he received as a first-string player. His family rushed him to the hospital, ran a few tests and was told to stay put in the hospital for a few days before they were called in to the doctor’s office. And now here they are, with clenched, trembling fists and silent sobs.
_How am I going to tell the others?_ thought Eijun. He stopped listening to the doctor a few minutes ago. _Maybe—maybe I shouldn’t tell them. Maybe I’ll just let them wait until it’s time… Maybe the coach will notice…_
“How long do I have?” Eijun swallowed as he heard himself ask.
The doctor sighed. “A month.”
A month. A month until his dreams of becoming Seidou’s ace would be gone, completely. He only had a month left to live, a month left to play baseball, a month left to—to tell his friends. He was deep in his thoughts before he felt his father’s arm tugging lightly at his shoulder.
“C’mon, son,” his father said softly, “Thank you very much, doctor.”
The doctor nodded with a sad expression on his face. “I am praying for your good health, Eijun.” But that’s what all doctors say. Eijun bowed, thanked him and left the room with his parents.
* * *
After spending a week with his parents in Tokyo, it was time for Eijun to go back to school. His parents went back to Nagano three days ago. They wished him good luck and reminded him to take his pills. Eijun hated the look on his mother’s face every time their eyes meet. It was filled with sadness and bleakness, like his mother had given up on him. Like his mother knew he wasn’t going to make it. His father gave him a stern look and squeezed his hands again. They made a promise not to tell Eijun’s friends at home because they wouldn't know how to handle it; it would be wise to let them know when it was time. They sucked at goodbyes, Eijun thought, and this wouldn't change any of that.
Eijun took a deep breath as he opened the door to his dorm room, only to find stacks of pudding containers strewn everywhere. He heard the sound of running water coming from inside the bathroom.
“Kuramochi? Is that you?”
Kuramochi-senpai must be practicing right now.
“Ah, Masuko-senpai! It's me, Sawamura,” answered Eijun. Silence. The bathroom door opened, revealing Masuko in his usual white t-shirt and grey pants. He smiled at Eijun.
“Sawamura! How was your vacation?” he asked, taking a clean roll of toilet paper from the drawer. “Anything interesting happened?”
_Yeah, I got cancer_ , Eijun wanted to reply.
“Uh. No, not really,” he shrugged.
“That so? Because you’re acting kinda weird. Did you meet a girl?” asked Masuko casually. He can’t know. Not now, at least. _Maybe you should lie to him…_
“S-Senpai! How did you know?!”
“Hahaha, common sense is a bit rare these days, isn’t it?” Eijun felt bad for lying to his senpai, but he didn’t want Masuko to know. To be honest, he really wanted anyone to notice there was something wrong. He wanted anyone to notice there was something different about him; he wanted anyone to notice he was getting fidgety again, he wanted anyone to know it wasn’t about girls. It was something more serious than that. He didn’t want to hear the words _I have cancer_ flying out of his mouth without someone confronting him about it. When Masuko-senpai wasn’t looking he took this opportunity to set his bottles of pills behind his pillow. He wondered if he should go practice. He wondered if he would be strong enough to run with a tire tied to his stomach—he wondered if it could kill him. He wondered if he would cough up blood and all the horror would happen again. That’s not how he wanted everyone to know. The doctor said it was okay for him to exercise a little. He should probably tell the coach, then…
He suddenly wondered if this could kick him out of the team.
Eijun brushed off his thoughts and decided to go to the field with his uniform on, even if he probably wouldn’t join practice.
“Ah, hey, Sawamura!” Miyuki. That’s right. Eijun could trust him. “Welcome back! Practice is almost over, though, so you’re a little late…” |
eea52843f1ab47baa1bdde0dcf999fe6 | ['442fb00b8f2247dca20dd839f4e61e7c'] |
Worst End
"Hey, even if we don't get an update, that doesn't mean they will completely abandon us, right?"
The day before any update to the software was always so stressful to everyone. He could remmber the first time YAMAHA announced V3, with the exact words of "Some of you will sadly not make it into V3. We'll be choosing who will get an update, however."
Of course, having the awful luck of being introduced on the last days of V2 didn't help either, but those words from Miki always gave him hope that he could get in. They were gonna choose over a period of time anyways, right? Not just pick all of them at once.
And thus, he waited, even if it took a long time.
========================
"We'll have to delay Ruby, since we'll be releasing her alongside V4!"
Another 3 years of waiting.
It was another 3 years of waiting, and at this point, he was starting to get impatient. What was taking them so long to make an update?
Miki was also wondering the same, in fact, it seemed like the bodies of everyone else were starting to break down, since none of them had sung anything, nor moved, ever since the release of V3.
So for there to be a fourth version, just meant more tedious waiting.
Even if Miki kept repeating the words to herself, he was certain they would probably not be chosen if it had already been 3 years.
Even if Ruby wasn't supposed to approach anyone else in the waiting room yet, since she was new, she wanted to tell them something that would at the very least give them some hope.
-"Hey."
-"What do you want." he said bitterly.
-"Even if you guys aren't chosen... V4 will still have compatibility with V2, so you guys aren't completely abandoned you know?"
"Abandoned". The concept in itself of being abandoned scared him, they wouldn't abandon him completely, right? Right? They could just be taking a long time in making a good voicebank. They must.
Suddenly, Gumi could be heard from the other side of them room, talking alongside Miku. However, their conversation was the one to completely break down any peaceful atmosphere that Ruby created.
-"Shouldn't you be the one to break the news to him? You we're the one who supported him when he first came here."
-"You know I'm busy you know. And besides, I can't bring myself to say it. Not to anyone."
-"Huh? Using your popularity to excuse yourself from saying the truth? That's not going to work at all. He's been waiting in there for years, you know?! You haven't even put yourself in the shoes of anyone else in there!"
-"The hell is coming that from?! No one else even wants to say it to him anyways!
Do you think any of us really has the courage to say Sony won't do anything else with him ever again?!"
Those words were the ones to completely break him down.
He had actually been abandoned...
"....Huh?" Miki looked at Piko, who already had curled up upon hearing those words from Miku. "Are you...ok?"
Suddenly, he pulled Miki into a hug, visibly shaking.
"Please... If we're destined to perish... don't leave me..."
================
They accepted they were going to die.
There was no way they were going to get updated. They promised that, at the very least, they wouldn't leave eachother's side, and since Piko was destined to stay in there forever, they would most likely rust away togheter.
If they were going to die, it would be nice like this...?
Maybe it didn't seem so bad to stay like this...
As per usual, people who worked for the company came into the room, which had clearly worn with time; the rolm was starting to get filled with moss, and the electricity was barely even working anymore. To top it off, there were any barely working VOCALOIDs, so trying to salvage one would be really hard. The only ones who even seemed alive at the moment were him, Yuki, Kiyoteru, Miki and Iroha,and even then, the rust on their bodies had accumulated to the point they thought they could barely even move anymore. Piko even had less strength on his voice, though no one really knew if it was from becoming quieter during the years, or if his voicebox really was deterorating.
One of the workers finally spoke up. "We'll be taking some of you for this build, selection has already been done."
Everyone else looked at eachother nervously except for the two of them. They were certain they wouldn't be chosen, it was the nihilistic mentality they had adopted ever since that day.
-"Well then. We'll take two of you this month. Let's go, Nekomura."
Iroha was overjoyed that she had been chosen, she wasn't completely forgotten! She scraggily moved towards the worker who called out to her name, and even if she tumbled so much she almost fell, the worker caught her in his arms and consoled her.
-"You too, SF-A2."
SF-A2...? Isn't that--
Suddenly, he jumped in front of Miki, trying to prevent them from taking her away. "You can't take her away! We made a promise!"
They didn't seem to care however, and tried to push him away from Miki. They succeded and pulled her towards the door, despite her obviously declining the offer to return. Piko latched onto her in an attempt to separate them. Despite her having little energy left, she also struggled against the workers, so she could stay. | d3b38e5dcedb4caa86af5a74aa114b5a | ['442fb00b8f2247dca20dd839f4e61e7c'] |
Voiceless
**Author's Note:**
> hey what's up i'm fler and this is the first time i write an actual serious fic and ACTUALLY FINISH a chapter
>
> I plan to do more but idk how many chapters i'll do, idk. I'll try to update as soon as I can.
>
> i can't write help me
It was a normal day. The technological city was brimming with sound from other Vocaloids and UTAUs, who had come in terms of what they were created for.
Hibiki Lui however, was the only one who still didn't get why had you let him be in the city.
He was practically the only one in the place who couldn't sing. In fact, he had no voicebank to begin with. After all, his project was left cancelled, leaving his "sister" Ring Suzune with an incomplete voicebank, and him practically mute. So why would you even let him in in the first place? He questioned what his purpose even was. He was very much worthless in a place where everything depended on singing.
He, however, remmembered the words you always told him. "You'll get a voicebank soon. I promise." Those words kept him hopeful for a long time, but now he was questioning them. You weren't involved with the people who made them after all.
He wished those words were true.
Another day passed. Lui was woken up by Ring like every other day. He was already used to this anyways.
"Good m__ni__, b__!" she said, with her voice cutting short at some parts. Lui understood what she was trying to say, even if some people thought her inability to speak sometimes. The times he was with Ring, he would take out his notebook to try to transcribe what Ring tried to say. It's the only way he could make himself and Ring understandable after all.
He wasn't however, ready for what was about to escape his lips.
"Good morni-" was what he muttered, before covering his mouth in shock. He looked at himself, and then at Ring, who looked equally as confused.
The very first thing he did after being out of shock, was pinch himself multiple times. This had to be a dream. There's no way it could be.
And all those times, it hurt.
In bewilderment, he just sat down. He was trying to process everything. Had his wish finally come true?
He felt a hand over his shoulder, his "sister" was looking worriedly at him. "Lui.. a__ y_u ok? Y_u're c__yin_.."
He didn't even notice that he was indeed both shaking and crying. He couldn't understand why though. His wish had become true. Was it pity because Ring still had a pretty incomplete voice? Was it because this was probably just a lucid dream? Or was it...
Joy.
It was joy.
He found himself giggling very softly, before it changed to full-on laughter.
He still wasn't used to his new voice. He simply didn't find the words to express his euphoria. He just hugged the blue-haired girl while crying tears of joy, and went outside, excited to make his new debut as a singer. All while leaving a very confused Ring behind.
The redhead stepped outside, humming songs. Onlookers looked at him, either confused or with a smile, seeing how he had obtained a voice. He thought to himself that he could probably see the perfomance of today. The duo perfomance that Piko and Fukase would do today.
Lui knew how much you used those two. How couldn't you? Aside from the fact that Miku, Rin and Len were more widely known, they were the very first Vocaloids that you installed. They were here before anyone else, so of course they had more experience. Asking them would be a great idea!
Lui didn't know he was planning outloud however. To which sorrounding people were watching him almost yell his last sentence.
"First day and I've already made a fool out of myself..." he thought.
Surprisingly, the show was quite empty. Which was odd. You'd see them almost all the time, so it was really weird to see almost all of the rows empty. Nonetheless, he thought he was maybe early, so he just sat down and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
He felt like hours had passed. He was really weirded out at the show not beginning at all. Nor anyone else coming. He'd think that at the very least Miku would have come to replace them if something had happened, she did do that sometimes, and explain what would have happened, even if her voice was full of spite.
Lui almost felt like he should just keep waiting, until someone else had come to him.
"What are you doing here? The show's not gonna start anytime soon, ya'know?" Looking at his side, the voice came from none other than Mayu. She almost looked lile she was about to lash out at him if he didn't tive explanations.
Of course talking would have been risky, but he noticed he ran out so quickly, he completely forgot his notebook, so he had no choice but to talk.
"Well.. I.. uh-"
"Haaaaah? What's that? I thought you were completely mute!" she hissed, before he even got a chance to explain.
"I wanted to see the show so I could ask the two how to start singing!" Lui quaked. He was almost in tears, from Mayu's previous response.
However, she calmed down slightly. "As I said. They're not coming. Their show was cancelled, along with every other show today." she inmediately started muttering to herself "Geez. How can you be so dense? Everyone was talking about what happened."
Lui was puzzled. He did remmember people talking about something as if it were a rumor, but he didn't quite make up what they said, nor did he care. "What are you talking about? Every show cancelled? You must be joking if they're doing that out of the blue!"
Saying that to her face was a mistake.
"Of course there was a reason you idiot!" - she, snapped - "Fukase is fucking missing!"
Those words filled Lui with dread. Fukase... missing? There's no way that could happen at all. There was nothing to the city other than. Well. The city. And even then, it was really hard to get lost. Everyone knew each other. There's just no way he could go missing from one day to the other without anyone noticing. Hell, not even Piko, who was the closest to him. More than a dream come true, today felt like a nightmare.
Something. Everything seems very wrong.
**Author's Note:**
> fuckass goes missing this is so sad miku play despacito |
913ffe49585b430ca372b635eeaf6037 | ['44514c07f1d34ef59c280842ad720bbe'] |
PART 1: AFTERMATH
_**dirt** _
dirt she can never seem to scrub out. no matter how hard she presses the cloth to her skin, chafes the skin until it goes red and hot, submerges herself under shattering cold water and holds her breath until her lungs screamed. and when she crawls out of the water with blue lips and shaking hands, the dirt was still there, specks of brown and black wedged between fingers and the space behind knees.
sometimes riven thinks it’s god’s punishment, along with neverending night terrors and the burning sickness that clung onto her for 5 days and 5 nights after she swam ashore. even after she cleaned the blood and guts off what remained of her sword, treated the wounds and bruises on her body, sent her armour to the depth of sea, the dirt remained.
\--
PART 2: CAPTURE
_**bygones** _
Irelia visits often now.
She comes, always, in the first light of morning. The guards perk up as she makes her way down the stone corridor, precise steps ringing off the prison walls; Riven counts 36, it has been 36 steps ever since the first visit.
During her first visit, Riven pretended to be asleep; curled up in the farthest corner away from the doors, face hid amongst uncut dirty hair, bound limbs sprawled carelessly on the ground. Riven had hoped to hear the jingle of keys and the oily creak of the cell doors, and perhaps a rough shove at her shoulders; she could do more with angry kicks than another night of interrogation. But none of that came, there was only the soft whirring of blades and the distant drop of an unchecked tap.
So Riven opened her eyes.
“Kill me” She said to the silhouette of a body that stood in front of her cell.
Irelia replied, unblinking. “Why?”
Riven pushed herself up from the floor and rested her back on the wall. She stared at her hands, nails bitten to the flesh and palms as calloused and rough as oak barks; she curled them into fists, and loosened them. She tried to spit, but the dryness of her mouth proved futile. She longed for the touch of her blade, of the crude leather grip biting into her hands. Now all she felt was the unloving flatness of stone and iron cell bars.
“Because I killed your people” It was the same line, delivered again and again to the elders who looked at her with terror and hatred, who backed away as if she were some feral beast, uncaged to destroy the hard-built peace of Ionia. Even when it’s five years after the Noxian invasion, even when Riven was brought to judgement alone, as she raised her arms and kneeled before her captors, said nothing and accepted everything.
When Irelia said nothing, Riven continued: “I killed your people, and I thought - I believed - it was the right things to do. I shed innocent blood, and never questioned.” Her voice dropped to a whisper “I deserve death”.
“We all do”
And with that, Irelia left. Riven counted 36 steps, then she was gone.
\--
PART 3: RETURN
**there is no place for you here**
“Kat, I-” riven reached out, palms spread flat and honest, there was nothing for her to hide behind.
Yet the words are caught in her throat, squeezed painfully between gaps of breath, unable and unwilling. She had thought it would be easy, she had thought.. - thought that seeing her again would wake the dormant courage which she could no longer find. Who would have known that the three words carried so much weight with them, who could have known.
But she needed kat to know, she needed kat to know that it was real. That her apology carried with it the grief and guilt and pain all condensed into three simple words, that she was sorry.
_Sorry for leaving, sorry for dying, sorry for the second chance she should have never gotten._
Kat stood there, wearing an expression riven couldn’t read. Riven wondered if she would wait there, forever, until the ghosts of Riven’s past finally die away and for her to say those words. _W_ _ould you do the same?_ the love in her said yes, the coward in her answered no.
Then Kat began to turn away, abrupt and sharp, Riven could taste anger in that turn. And at that moment Riven knew Kat had loved her all this year, for all of the three years she was gone. “I am sorry.” the words came as naturally as that, each syllable pulling and tugging, until finally rooting Katarina in place. Riven tried again, this time stepping forward, her feet had a mind of its own; “Kat, I’m sorry.”
She could have not anticipate the shunpo or the blade beneath her chin in that split second she stepped forward, but instinctively she let her body go limp, her arms dropped to the side.
“ _Liar_ ”
Riven heard the word minutes after it left Kat’s lips, the meaning unregistered until she fought past the quivering syllable and the awareness that Kat was crying. Yet even after the recognition she had nothing to say in reply, only pressed her neck deeper into the blade. _P_ _ain is not the only way to cope,_ she supposed Karma was right, Karma was always right; but pain was the only way she’s learned to cope, so she did.
\--
PART 4: SELF
_**forgive** _
To forgive yourself, is that such a sin? To live and forget, to shed all that you were, to be reborn.
But who will avenge all the blood that was lost, in war, in life, in love. the blood that you helped bleed, the wounds you pierced through their hearts. How can you live in forgiveness when the dead will not, how can you live, knowing that you can never undo all that was done. How can you live, knowing that all that you believed was a lie. How can you live, when you should be dead.
You do not deserve death, in the same way that the ones you cut down deserved to live. Do not haste to lay blame, because all the blames you know are your own.
So look up now, see the horizon stretching beyond, the sky that will collapse upon us one day. To live is not a sin, and death is not a punishment. Shed your skins, be born anew, you will not die here. You will change, and you will forgive.
--
**Author's Note:**
> most of these are written while listening to this playlist (http://8tracks.com/noxian/to-live-without-apologies) | 6e9d591a38e94be380b6c2ddd24f0053 | ['44514c07f1d34ef59c280842ad720bbe'] | The woman before her simply nodded and made no reply. There was not a hint of fear in her eyes, even as Lorieth brought the saw cleaver to the nape of her neck. Looking at her, Lorieth felt an unanticipated rush of longing, it displaced her and she lowered her weapon. “You.. Do I know you.?”
__
“Welcome home, good Hunter.” There was something oddly mechanical about the woman, her voice, detached, familiar, it reached for inside of Lorieth, holding onto a place where she has long forgotten. “I am a doll, created by hunters before you.”
__
“A doll..?” The realization blanketed over Lorieth, it made her soft, and she was- for a moment- content that the Gods have sent her such companion in the nightmare that she has stumbled in.
__
“Yes” The Doll made a small bow. “I will watch over you in this Hunter’s Dream.”
__
“I.. Thank you.” It was all Lorieth could manage, “I must apologize, for the earlier encounters.” Somehow she felt silly for conversing with the Doll, but speaking normally in another’s company brought back some of her sanity, it almost made her feel human again, and cleansed off the blood hunt.
__
“Have you spoken to Gerhman? He awaits for you in the workshop” The Doll bowed again. Her gentle demeanor offset the horrid truth that is the Scourge, it made Lorieth sad.
__
“And before you go, Hunter. What is your name?”
\--
**The Re-awakening**
The reawakenings did not dull the pain of the killing blow that ended her. Lorieth could still feel the burn of fire on her skin, the cold metal of the pitchfork sliding into her skin, her muscles, her bones, the blow of axe to her skull.
Crushing, numbing, angry pain. She had thought the pain would fade to only a background buzz after a while, after she’d come to accept that she could never truly die in this nightmare. She was wrong, of course, deaths always hurt.
But the deepest wound would always be the choking fear flashing in her mind when she realizes death has come to take her.
Even after the hundreds -the thousands- time she had waken in Hunter’s Dream, opening her eyes at the end of the dark tunnel to bright lights, seeing the Doll before her. There was never once when fear did not visit her upon death in the waking world, it was always there, lurking deep in her mind- the amygdala. And Lorieth wondered, is it the really the fear of death? Or is it perhaps the fear, that she will continue down this endless loop, caged inside a hellish cycle of cheating deaths, but never living either.
The answer, although she never addressed, would be the latter.
\--
**Author's Note:**
> These were written in compulsion after each playthrough. more to come (especially when I get to the DLC) |
330ae871d2604264a3c3e6203731d12d | ['44546976b4f4477d8c7016f25cb64c3c'] | Keep Your Fingers Clasped in Mine
Garrus' mandibles flickered as Shepard hummed quietly to herself, head nestled against his shoulder. They were both looking over their own datapads, not engaging in any particular conversation and neither did they feel inclined to move. This wasn't an uncommon way to spend their evenings, especially after the more strenuous missions.
Bored by the third report of a lost package in the Traverse, Garrus let his gaze drift elsewhere. Eventually he fixated on Shepard's hand resting on his leg. Her fingers were curved slightly, drumming absent-mindedly just above his knee.
He stopped, studying the motion. Her fingers and palm were calloused, but the skin was still pale and dotted with freckles. Her fingernails were short and filed; she cut them recently. She had small hands compared to other humans on the ship, and especially compared to Garrus’. Her gun gave her blisters the first few weeks of coming back from the dead, but eventually she got used to her hands being not-quite-big-enough. That was one of the things Miranda didn’t “upgrade,” and Shepard silently thanked her for it.
Garrus continued to watch her, though he didn’t really understand why her hand was so fascinating. It just seemed so _foreign_ to him. He looked down at his own three digits, then back to her five. Human couples always seemed to be holding hands in the vids he had watched, but he wasn’t entirely sure how to go about it. It didn’t seem like it’d work considering their difference in number of limbs nor did it seem like it’d be very comfortable. But Joker said hand-holding was one of the biggest parts of human relationships, even if Shepard never mentioned wanting to try it.
Shepard hummed again as she reached to pull her hair behind her ear. It was tied over her shoulder in a loose braid instead of her usual knot, but it seemed that no matter how she wore her hair, strands would always be falling into her face. Garrus sighed quietly in contentment as her hand returned to his leg, quickly replacing the emptiness that had lingered there.
‘ _Spirits, Shepard, I’m crazy about you.’_ Subvocals thrumming at the bottom of his throat, he let the thought resonate for a few moments. He couldn’t help but marvel at every feature about her— from the hair constantly in her face to the way her hands gripped tightly around a gun to every last finger and toe she owned. He couldn’t convince himself to care that she was human if he tried.
He suddenly moved his hand over to hers and shyly tried to fit them together. Shepard looked up at him, confused, but it quickly faded as she realized what he was trying to do. She spread her palm flat against his, smiling gently to herself as she slipped two fingers between each of his own. Garrus almost wanted to pull away because it felt so awkward to him; turians never had the propensity to hold hands, and even less so without gloves. But if this was important to Shepard, then it was important to him.
She squeezed his hand lightly as she adjusted her fingers with his. He squeezed back and leaned over to her, clumsily kissing her on the cheek. These days, it seemed like nothing was going to go right between them—like it didn’t matter how much he wanted it to work because nothing would ever just _fit._
But he forgot about that. It was gone within seconds when she leaned up to place her own kiss on his mouth, and before she could pull away he put his free hand behind her head and she let him keep her there. The discomfort between their hands melted away and nothing seemed to really matter anymore. Because when his fingers tightened around hers and she couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, he knew he was where he wanted—no, needed—to be. | 8084756156f641d5b58344c903d7ac4f | ['44546976b4f4477d8c7016f25cb64c3c'] |
Guilty Conscience
“The guilt keeps me up at night, Garrus.”
The turian stirred awake as Shepard suddenly spoke to him, her fingers tightening their grip between his three. Irises glazed over in exhaustion, his eyes drifted over to lock with Shepard’s. Her usually vivacious orbs were now dulled with loss as she stared at him, expression empty as she seemed to search herself for answers. Garrus felt sleep abandon him quickly as he sat up, concern washing over him. She had been hospitalized for months now, though conscious for just over a week. Her healing had accelerated with the help of cybernetics, but she was far from full recovery.
He didn’t need to ask what she was talking about, though—he wouldn’t be able to say he knew her if he didn’t. “Shepard…” He began, preparing a long, drawn-out pep-talk about how she did everything that she could, but she didn’t let him continue.
“All these years… It’s always been simple.” She began, “One option’s benefits outweighed the others, or one option would turn out better in the end. But…” She paused, running her free hand through her hair before letting it fall back into her lap with a sigh. “Was it really _worth_ it this time? Did I make the right decision?” She looked at him again, only now searching him for answers.
The air grew tenser as each second passed in silence. “What exactly happened up there, Shepard?” Garrus asked quietly, his gaze refusing to tear from her. She had done something up there… more than any of them had planned on. EDI shut down along with every last Geth unit—even the mass effect relays took heavy damage. The only thing that truly mattered to anyone, though, was that the Reapers dropped dead from where they stood. No one ever really stopped to wonder what had actually taken place on the Citadel… Until now, of course.
Her eyes flushed in woe as she was unable to look at Garrus any longer while she continued. “I… It… It was either I destroyed the Reapers and all synthetic life, become a Reaper, or change all life as we know it. Give them my DNA… Everyone lives in peace kind of thing.” She shook her head, letting her thoughts run for a few moments. “I didn’t think it’d be right to change everyone’s genetics. And… I couldn’t trust this kid’s word that the peace would be kept. I… I just wanted them to be gone. _Forever._ ” She paused once again, head hanging in shame as her hand held it. “But no matter what I chose, somebody got hurt. The Geth and Quarians had finally found peace between each other… and EDI meant so much to Joker… I… I really fucked this one up, Garrus.”
A few seconds passed as Garrus contemplated what to say. What could he say? “Someone’s going to get hurt no matter what they do in life, Shepard.” He finally murmured, squeezing her hand lightly. Another pause. “But since when has that ever stopped you? As I recall you’ll always be the first one to push a merc out of a window.”
Shepard let a laugh slip as she remembered that fondly before looking back over to the scarred turian. Her hand reached over and grazed his skin with her fingertips affectionately. He leaned into the touch, causing her to smile at him. What a lucky woman she was. “Being stuck in bed without a galaxy to save has given me a lot of time to think… Too much time, really. God, you should hear the voices.” In truth, Shepard had been hearing voices since she dealt with Saren, but they were never prominent… They were just faint mutters in the back of her mind. As she lost more people to the war, however, and as her conscience became weighted with guilt, her restless nights turned nightmarish, and they only became more frequent during her recovery. “Maybe I live too much in the past is all.” Her voice was quiet as she spoke, more to herself than anything as her hand traced his mandible.
He reveled in the sensation of her touch for a few lingering moments before looking back up at her, eyes glinting with an idea. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing, you know. There’s plenty of good memories to relive. You should know that better than anyone.”
“Like what?” She inquired sarcastically, leaning back against the pillow with a skeptical grin. She knew she had plenty of good times throughout these past years, but really all of her pleasant memories had blended together into a giant mess. Garrus didn’t respond, though, as he simply stood up, mischief clearly resident in his expression.
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten, Shepard.” He mocked, feigning hurt as he grabbed her other hand. “I might just have to show you, then, if you did.”
Shepard shifted to the edge of the bed, eyeing him suspiciously. “Garrus Vakarian, I am literally _covered_ in bandages and you want me to just _jump_ out of bed for you?”
“That’s the idea. And besides, are you telling me that the _Great Commander Shepard_ is going to let a few bruises keep her off her feet? I’m starting to think you’re losing your touch.” He was trying his best not to break out laughing as he mocked her, having far too much fun with this.
“I wonder how long it’d take for the nurses to show up if I kicked your ass,” she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes as she slowly got to her feet. Garrus waited patiently as she adjusted to the feeling of using her legs again before pulling her into his arms. Shepard stopped when she realized what he was doing. |
ecd3ac7a16b34b899a79047c0d6c5f08 | ['447ef5278e6045f792794b85a82ab3c7'] |
Fatherhood Is The Best Thing Ever.
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you to everyone who read my first story
> I know it's cringy but enjoy my dudes and dudettes! XD
Seth stood in the room of their baby's room, he had gotten it done back in mid November when Dean was seven months pregnant. With the help from Nattie, Bayley, Sasha and Finn, the used to be guest room was transformed into the most beautiful room their child was going to sleep.
Dean was due any day now, with what the doctor said they wouldn't be able to see the gender of their baby until Dean gave birth. They both talked about weather Dean wanted to either have a c-section or just have a natural birth when the baby comes, the blonde wanted to have it natural and because of how much Dean hates hospitals he wanted it at home, after they stuck with that decision they had to get a midwife to help out when Dean was fully time for the baby here. He couldn't wait to see his son or daughter, what will his child would look like more like Dean or himself.
Seth has pondered at times where a hormonal Dean was out of control sometimes with the food cravings the emotional times and everything else that occurred in a pregnancy. They would spend some nights at the hospital because of the baby and Dean getting sick but somehow they managed to make it through. Stephanie put Seth on paternity leave wishing him and Dean well with the baby, along with Christmas and New Years came. Now along with their friends they was waiting for the arrival of Seth and Dean's child, they need all the help they could get for when the time comes. He could still remember the first ultrasound, to the first hearing the baby's heartbeat bringing tears into their eyes. Overwhelmed with joy and happiness in their eyes. To Dean feeling the first kick and Seth getting very excited, How Dean reacted to the transformation of the baby's room while Dean was out with AJ and Nattie that day, Seth. Bayley, Finn, Roman and Sasha were setting up the rest of the things for the baby's room.To the baby shower and then to Christmas, New Years and now it was time. Seth always wondered if his little girl or boy would want to be a future WWE superstar. At the beginning when he tweeted out that he and Dean were going to be parents a lot of fans supported and congratulated them along with some disagreeing on it. But both Seth and Dean didn't let them affect them. They were focused on keeping a healthy baby and enjoying every moment with their child. As he sat down on the white chair in the room he kept zoning out, he was nervous as hell, there were some nights where Seth would lie awake staring at Dean while he was sleeping, wondering what type of dad he'll end up being, sometimes even talking to Roman about it since he was in fact father of three, Roman knew from experience, and he was willing to help his SHIELD brothers out, Seth was hoping his son or daughter will be the happiest he or she can be, he wanted to be there as best as he can with Dean and his child.
They had a few baby names in mind depending on its gender. "Baby you alright?" Dean asked his husband from the door, making Seth look up at him. "Dean your supposed to be in bed right now." Seth stood up, walking over to his pregnant husband and taking his hand. "I know but your kid here wouldn't let me sleep.. Our kid kicking like crazy and making me piss." Seth sighed and led his husband to the bed room across the hall, helping the blonde out get comfortable again in the bed, leading Seth to go over to his side of the bed getting in bed as well, even though it was 2 in the morning.
Seth then pulling Dean into his arms and placing his hand on top of his lover's hand, leading to kiss his forehead as well. Dean sighed and laid there smiling, "This kid is gonna be the death of me.." Seth smirked at his husband's remark.
Then got spooked a little when Dean winced holding his stomach. "I should be asking you if your alright." Seth said Dean let out a grunt and looked at the brunette annoyed. "Shut up." Seth knew his hormones was acting up again. What he did next he grabbed Dean's hand making the blonde look at his eyes. "I'm just scared Seth, what if something happens to the baby while it happens, I wouldn't be able to know what I do.. " Dean said as he was on the verge of tears. "Dean.. Baby your going to do great, our baby is healthy. I would cry if anything happens to you or the baby. Dean you are beautiful don't you ever forget that, We both made this work, we made it this far, I'm willing to do anything for you and for our child, just think.. In a couple of days our daughter or son will be here. I'll say we may need some help from Ro and Galina since were going to be new parents, but you got to remember I love you no matter what we go through I love our baby since we made it work without knowing for two months even though I thought you had the stomach flu." Seth said making Dean chuckle. | 370257fe091b4c9e8f93a2351671fe6c | ['447ef5278e6045f792794b85a82ab3c7'] | "Babe I'm going to see how many centimeters you are ok? Hey don't cry you made it this far, we'll make it together." Seth whispered sweet encouraged words to his husband while Dean nodded. He then got to the end of the bed to check while everyone was going on about getting everything ready for it. With that Seth looked up at him in shock as putting the cover up to the side on him. "OH MY GOODNESS YOUR SEVEN CENTIMETERS YOUR BABY GETTING THERE!!" Roman looked up in shock causing Bayley to run into the bed room with widened eyes. "You serious Seth?? " The blonde was beginning to feel a different type of pain this time crying out loud. "Fuck he's right!!." The contractions getting closer and closer together by the minutes.
Within the next two hours with Galina there a little bit after what Roman said it was time to push. After placing everything and everyone where they was supposed to go Galina gave Seth the honor of delivering the baby. Seth was afraid he might end up passing out from the process but he had to stay strong for Dean and their child. "Alright everyone get into the positions we talked about." Galina announced as Dean was just ready to see their baby. AJ and Roman holding each of Dean's hands while Galina led Seth in front of Dean. With Dean wimpered out Seth went back to his side quickly caressing his cheek and telling him "Baby you can do this you got this were all here through every step of the way." With that Roman gave Seth the wet cloth again wiping his husband's sweaty forehead.
"I love you Seth." Dean said to him. Seth smiling at him widely giving him a kiss, "I love you more than ever Dean." Dean nodded and with that Seth said "Lets do it." Seth then gave one last kiss to his lover on his forehead before going back to the end of the bed where Galina was, all of his friends in their positions waiting for Galina to tell Dean to start pushing. "Alright Dean you began to push for 10 seconds each and when the baby's head starts to come out that's where you push with everything you got." Galina instructed. Seth and Dean looked at each other before Dean got ready. He began the process to push out.
His body felt like it was being torn inside, while Seth encouraged him that he's doing a great job. "I see the head coming, come on push!!" Seth told Dean. "FUCK THIS HURTS!! " He yelled out. He gave another push before going out of breath once again to catch his breathe yet again. Although Seth felt like he was going to pass out from all of the blood and the gross stuff coming out along. He had to stay strong for Dean. Sasha was grabbing some towels to hand to Galina, she made sure Seth was the that can deliver their baby. "Alright Dean you need to push one last time give it all you got." Dean gave out one last push. This part hurt him a lot, but he's doing everything he can. Even though he was probably hurting AJ and Roman's hands. Seth on the other hand can see the tiny child coming out. His eyes filling with joy.
"Come on Dean you can do it the baby's almost here!" His friends cheering him on as he leaned forward and pushed really hard. With that Seth saw the child come out and Dean stopped pushing as he heard the sweet sound of his baby crying.
Seth got the baby out and cleaned the baby off reveling a baby girl. "ITS A GIRL!!" Seth cried out and Dean looked up trying to lean up to see. Nattie went to help Dean up carefully while with the help from Roman with the umbilical cord Seth already went over to Dean with the the newborn helping him hold their daughter neither one caring they were both covered in Dean's blood. It was a beautiful moment for the new parents Seth never been so proud of Dean for letting him have a family. Dean then started getting emotional embracing the moment with his daughter and his husband by his side.
"She's so beautiful, she looks exactly like you more baby." Dean then caressing the pale baby. Seth was right, she did look like a mix between the two of them more like Seth. She had Dean's eyes and surely she'll have Seth's hair. She had a mix of features between the two. The couple never felt so happy with their newborn. "I'm so proud of you baby, you went through nine months and gave me the most precious gift in your arms." Seth said to him as Dean began to tear up once again. "He's right Dean you did it!" Finn said as everyone smiled and everyone congratulated the couple. Now Dean needed to rest Seth took care of the baby while Dean rested. There was a picture posted of all three of them taken by Roman to where Seth posted
I announce to say that on January 18th 2019 at 2:54 AM We are now the proud parents of Marilyn Jade Rollins. She weighed 7 pounds 2 ounces as well was told by Doctor Anderson she is a healthy baby girl, and I will say I never been much more proud of my husband Dean for carrying her through the past nine months Your a fighter baby boy and I couldn't thank everyone single one of you who supported him all throughout this whole process with us. We both couldn't be happier.
WWE superstars and fans congratulated the couple which made Seth smile |
e0b55ad3f63f4f7fa2d6fde7dace6910 | ['44821cd9aaa54425a293f8962702cd4c'] | Sam stepped towards him, desperate to set things right. “No. No. I don’t think that about you, Gabe. I’m just telling you how I felt at the time. I know it doesn’t make sense and it doesn’t excuse how I acted. I’m just trying to be honest with you. I’m sorry if I don’t know the perfect thing to say but I swear, I’m really trying here because I’ve never felt as comfortable or happy talking to anyone else in my whole life and I don’t want to fuck this up.”
Sam’s eyes filled with tears, pleading with Gabe to understand. And he did. “We both fucked up,” Gabe admitted. “I wanted our first kiss to be special for you. I wanted…” He looked down, unable to meet Sam’s gaze. “I wanted everything to be perfect for you. To take care of you and make sure you felt safe. And instead I was this drunk, bumbling idiot groping you and dry humping you on my sofa.” Sam chuckled a little, causing Gabe to look up at him again. “What?” he asked defensively.
“No, no,” Sam said with a smile. “I’m just remembering how cute you are when you’re drunk and bumbling.”
Gabe narrowed his eyes at Sam and playfully shoved him. “Shut up.”
Sam smirked and leaned in closer. “Make me.”
Gabe’s face softened, eyes darting back and forth between Sam’s eyes and lips as he considered Sam’s words. But Sam lost his patience and closed the space between them, stepping towards Gabe and pressing their lips together. It was a familiar feeling to both of them, but much better than they remembered. They stood there for what felt like an eternity, kissing passionately as their hands frantically tugged at each other’s hair and clothing.
Sam broke the kiss to speak. “Where’s your bedroom?”
Gabe smirked and took Sam’s hand to lead him down the hall to his bedroom. As soon as the door closed behind them, they crashed onto the bed, continuing to kiss as they worked to get their shirts off.
Sam pinned Gabe to the bed and was sucking a hickey onto his neck as he reached down and started to unbutton Gabe’s jeans, but Gabe grabbed him by the wrist to stop him. He pulled his lips away from Gabe’s neck and looked at him.
“What’s wrong?” Sam asked nervously.
“I just- I just wanna make sure that you’re sure,” Gabe replied, equally nervous.
“I’m sure, Gabe.” Sam smiled and leaned down to kiss him.
Gabe let go of Sam’s wrist and let him remove his pants and boxers. He was completely naked under Sam, but before he had a chance to become self-conscious, Sam had his hand wrapped around Gabe’s cock.
Sam had never touched another dick before, but Gabe’s felt wonderful to him. It was smooth and soft but hard at the same time, and there was a vein along the bottom that if he rubbed just right brought the most glorious gasp from Gabe’s mouth. He got lost in the sensation and the rhythmic moans coming from Gabe, until Gabe’s voice brought him back.
“Sam… Sam… Sam, please. I’m gonna- you need to slow down.” His voice was weak and pleading.
Sam gazed at him with confusion for a moment before realizing what was wrong. “Oh, sorry,” he chuckled sheepishly as his hand stilled.
Gabe kissed him. “It’s ok, just want this to last.” They smiled at each other and kissed lazily for a bit.
“Do you, uh… do you have… stuff?” Sam tried to ask.
Gabe raised an eyebrow. “Stuff?”
“Condoms. Lube,” Sam said.
“Yeah. But-”
“I’m sure,” Sam interjected before Gabe could finish his thought. “Want you to fuck me, Gabe.”
“Jesus Christ,” Gabe mumbled before kissing Sam roughly and rolling them over. After a minute, he reluctantly broke the kiss and climbed off of Sam.
Sam took the opportunity to kick his pants and boxers off at record speed, sighing contently as his cock was freed. He stroked himself slowly as he watched Gabe’s naked body collecting items from the nightstand. As Gabe turned towards Sam again, he froze.
“Christ,” Gabe mumbled, reaching out a hand to stroke Sam’s impressively large dick.
Sam hummed in approval, eyes fluttering closed as he allowed himself to enjoy the sensation of having another man touch him like that for the first time. Everything felt good with Gabe, and he didn’t want it to stop. He spread his legs involuntarily, and could feel Gabe settling himself between them. Then Gabe’s hand was gone, and when Sam opened his eyes he saw Gabe squirting a generous amount of lube onto his finger. Sam held his breath as Gabe slowly circled his puckered hole with his slicked fingertip. Sam bit his bottom lip, desperate for more. Then he felt another generous squirt of lube before Gabe gently pressed his finger into Sam. He gasped at the sensation, but gave Gabe a small nod to let him know he was okay. Gabe continued, slowly working his finger in and out and of Sam.
“You don’t have to be so gentle,” Sam piped up after a minute. “I’ve done this part myself before.”
Gabe held back a growl before sliding another lubed finger inside Sam. Despite Sam’s urging, he was still gentle, carefully twisting and scissoring his two fingers inside Sam for a couple minutes before adding a third. He was so focused on working Sam open that he almost gasped when he looked up at Sam’s face. His cheeks were flushed, eyes closed and mouth hanging open, letting out breathy moans as his head rolled side to side. Gabe had never seen anything so beautiful. Still working his fingers inside Sam, Gabe leaned down and pressed his lips to Sam’s inner thigh. He nipped and sucked the soft flesh there, causing Sam’s moans to grow more frantic. | f7dc17e8e001425faa3f0656b3dc9c1b | ['44821cd9aaa54425a293f8962702cd4c'] | Sam tried not to roll his eyes at her. He recognized her from one of his freshman English classes, but he was positive she had no idea who he was. “Look, Ruby,” he said as politely as possible, “I can’t override the system. Either you pay the five dollars, or I can’t let you take these books.”
She began to protest again when one of Sam’s coworkers stepped in. “What seems to be the problem here?” he asked, winking at her.
“Ash, I’ve got this,” Sam said to him.
“He’s saying I can’t check out these book that I need because I owe five dollars,” she complained to Ash as if Sam wasn’t standing right there.
“The system,” Sam tried to correct her. “It’s the system that won’t let you check them out.”
“You know,” Ash said nudging Sam from in front of the computer, “I might just be able to do something about that.”
“Oh my god. Really? I would totally appreciate it,” she said with a big grin as she leaned against the counter, exposing an impressive amount of cleavage.
Ash started typing furiously and Sam was about to protest when he spotted a familiar mop of golden brown hair walking away from the psych section. This was it. He was finally going to talk to the guy about littering in the library, and maybe report him to Mrs. Mills.
“Hey,” Sam said assertively as he approached him.
The guy seemed genuinely shocked by Sam’s tone, but recovered quickly and shook his head. “Sorry, tall, dark, and handsome. Not today. Running really late.” He breezed past Sam but stopped suddenly when he got to the door. Turning around and looking at Sam again, he said, “Next time, though. And do that voice again. It’s working for me.” Then he winked and walked out.
Sam stood there completely stunned and speechless. A few people nearby who had witnessed the interaction were whispering and giggling, and Sam could feel himself blushing. Cursing the mysterious stranger, Sam made his way to the psych section, where, sure enough, he found Hershey’s Kisses wrappers strewn all over the shelves and an empty bag of gummy worms on one of the tables. He quickly picked up the garbage, silently vowing that he would get him next time.
* * *
Sam woke up surprised by how much light was coming in through the blinds. He reached for his phone to check the time, and felt a jolt of panic when he saw it was almost noon. Then he remembered it was Sunday, and relaxed with a soft sigh. Happy to be free of stress for at least a few hours, he texted Gabe.
Sam: Morning :)
Gabe: Morning sunshine :)
Sam: How’s the bible project coming? That’s due tomorrow, right?
Gabe: Yep :) Meeting with the group this afternoon to work out some final kinks, but I think it’s really good
Sam: Awesome!
Gabe: You doing anything fun today?
Sam: No, I’ve got some studying to do. Maybe laundry. But nothing fun lol
Gabe: We could meet for coffee or something if you wanted
Sam stared at his phone, unsure of how to respond. For whatever reason, he felt comfortable enough to be honest with Gabe.
Sam: I do want to, but I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. Sorry :/
Gabe: It’s ok. Just wanted to throw it out there :)
Sam: Thanks. Promise when I’m ready you’ll be the first to know
Gabe: Lol sounds good
He didn’t want to just leave things like that, so Sam attempted to explain further.
Sam: Just so you know, it’s nothing personal. I do really like you. It’s just hard for me to trust people these days
Gabe: Can I ask why?
Sam: My exgf kinda left me for my best friend. I mean they didn’t officially start dating until 2 weeks later, but everyone said they had a thing going on behind my back for a while
Gabe: Holy shit! How did your friend even defend that?
Sam: He didn’t really. He pretty much blamed it on me for not knowing how to be a good bf or whatever
Gabe: That’s royally fucked up! Please tell me you’re not still friends with that asshole
Sam: No way! But I see them around campus sometimes and it makes me wanna puke
Gabe: Shit I don’t blame you
Sam: I guess on some feel level I kinda guilty cause I think maybe Brady was right
Gabe: To steal your gf???
Sam: No. About me being a bad bf
Gabe: Why?
Sam thought for a moment, unsure of what to say next. He reminded himself that if things went horribly wrong, he never had to see or talk to Gabe again, so he let himself type without over-thinking.
Sam: Things were great with Jess at first. But I guess when I started to accept that I was attracted to guys too I didn’t really know how to handle things with her so I kinda just pulled away
Gabe: Why didn’t you just tell her?
Sam: I didn’t know how. It’s hard to tell someone you’ve been dating for a year “oh yeah btw I think I’d like to suck a dick now”
Gabe: Lol I’m sure there’s a more tactful way to say it
Sam: Is there though? I mean I pretty much felt like I wanted to explore these things with guys but I had this awesome gf and I didn’t want to just throw that away. So I feel like maybe I forced her to break up with me by not being honest and just being distant
Gabe: You didn’t force her to do anything. She made her own choices. But I can see how you would feel that way
Sam: Thanks :/ So I guess my hesitation is part not trusting other people to not hurt me and part not trusting myself to not fuck it up |
afe8dfc841b847b9ab9fe88aca06e329 | ['44822f9d6cd14f3d83eea47965c9f44c'] |
Love Thy Neighbor
**Author's Note:**
> This was my submission for the vncsecretsanta for @eli-and-fictional-sons on tumblr!
>
> The little shirtless Noe scene was supposed to be more descriptive with more freaking out from Vani, but half way through writing this, I remembered the Shirtless Kylo Ren meme and I had a hell of a time writing that part without dying of laughter i’m sorry lol. Also I totally threw in my headcanon that Noe has naturally somewhat-curly hair bc come on he’s black for goodness sake.
>
> enjoy~
Vanitas really…didn’t like his next door neighbor.
Noe was his name. Ever since the guy moved in, there was always _something_ the other did that pissed them off. It all started when Noe started parking in Vanitas’ spot. No matter how often he yelled at him about it, Noe _still_ managed to park in his spot at least once a week. Things just went downhill from there.
At some point in the past 5 months of living next to each other, Vanitas started going out of his way to piss Noe off; his favorite was playing loud music early in the morning, because Noe was nothing but grumpy without at least 8 hours of sleep. Yes, Vanitas was _that_ petty.
But what really peeved Vanitas about Noe is how… _perfect_ he was. When Vanitas wasn’t doing things to annoy him, Noe was actually pretty nice. He gave Vanitas rides sometimes when the weather was too bad to take his bike (although music in the car was another source of tension between them), and he checked up on him often to make sure he was eating and sleeping well, because “no one should look as dead as you do” (which, unsurprisingly, aggravated Vanitas to no end). He was naïve, but it was kind of endearing. Sometimes.
He was also _fine as hell_ , not that Vanitas would ever admit it. Tall, well-built, pretty eyes, and to-the point about everything. Noe might as well be the man of Vanitas’ dreams, and he _hated_ it.
…Okay, maybe he had a _teeny_ _tiny_ crush.
It didn’t matter anyway, nothing would ever come of it. Why would Noe ever like him back? All Vanitas did was purposefully annoy him. Most of their conversations consisted of pointed glares and hardly contained anger, mostly from Vanitas. Noe deserved to be with someone much better than him.
_‘_ _Maybe you guys just need to get together, let out that awkward sexual tension. I bet you that_ _’_ _s the reason you_ _’_ _re always so cranky with each other, idiot._ _’_
Vanitas slammed the butter knife down on the counter. Screw Dante and his stupid advice! What did he know anyway? He was just some baldy with as much romance experience as a doormat. That was the last thing he needed to be thinking about right now. He stared down at his unfinished peanut butter sandwich. He couldn’t eat now, he was too bitter. _Maybe I_ _’_ _ll just take a hot shower and lay down for the night,_ he thought. It wasn’t even 9:00, but there’s nothing wrong with a little extra sleep, right? In fact, Noe would probably be proud—
Ohhh, no. That thought was going to end _right there_. Vanitas dragged himself to the bathroom—which wasn’t very far in this tiny apartment—but before he could turn on the faucet, there was a knock at the door.
Fan- _fucking-_ tastic.
“Who could _possibly_ be knocking at this hour?” Vanitas muttered angrily. He was in no mood to humor anyone for _anything_. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Vanitas stomped over to the door and flung it open. “This had better be impor—”
Standing in the hallway was none other than Noe himself. He was holding a towel and a hair brush in one arm, dressed in his loose white pajamas. The look on his face was awkward and somewhat...pained?
Vanitas couldn’t stop himself from admiring the other man. The way strands of white hair fell into his face, or how his shirt hugged his broad shoulders...
_Stooooooop_ _!_
“ _What_ do you want? This had better be important, Noe,” he spat.
Noe pursed his lips. “I need to use your shower.”
“…Why can’t you use yours?” At this Noe shuffled his feet, looking anywhere but Vanitas. Was he… embarrassed?
“You see,” he started, “I may have tripped over Murr heading to the shower, and ripped the shower head from the wall trying to catch myself.”
Vanitas just stared. Of course Noe would manage to do something like that.
Thinking it over, he supposed there was no harm in letting him in. Call it payback for all the times Noe’s helped him. It was a little annoying that he’d have to let Noe take one first, but the was no way he was waiting around Vanitas’ apartment until he was done. Besides, this way he could take as long as he wanted.
“I guess,” he sighed, stepping aside to let him in. He swore Noe had stars in his eyes when he thanked him. Weirdo.
Noe stepped in to the apartment, looking around like he’d never been in there before. “Our showers are probably the same,” he said, shutting the door behind him. “So I don’t think I have to help you—hey! Don’t touch that!”
Vanitas was an art student, but since he and Noe weren’t friends, the other had never seen anything Vanitas had made. He had been working on a minimalist human sculpture for a class earlier, and must’ve forgotten to put it away because Noe was _about to pick it up good lord._
He grabbed Noe’s arm before he could touch it, glaring at him. “It’s wet! I don’t need you squishing it with your inhuman strength!”
Noe blinked at him. “Oh. Sorry. I’ve never seen someone make something like this before, I wanted to know what it felt like. You’re really good at this!” | 456426af859b41f7a454226ae94b8dec | ['44822f9d6cd14f3d83eea47965c9f44c'] |
Happy Accident
"Arthuuuur!"
Arthur slammed his hands down onto the table, causing his pencil to roll to the floor. This was the fifth time he's been called upstairs. Why couldn't he just do his stupid homework in peace?
He angrily made his way upstairs, stopping in the doorway at the top of the steps. Arms crossed and large brows furrowed, Arthur glared at the moving blanket-cocoon lying in the bed. "What do you want now, Peter?" He huffed.
The form groaned. "I'm huuungryyyyy!"
Arthur sighed, running his hands through his messy hair. He explained to his younger brother that their mum was still out and would not be home for a few more hours. All he got in response was another moan.
"If you're so hungry, why don't I make you something?" Arthur suggested. A blond head poked out from underneath the blankets, glaring at the man standing in the doorway.
"What, are you trying to kill me? I'm already sick, I don't need your excuse for cooking making me worse."
Arthur scoffed in offence. His cooking skills weren't that bad! Their appliances were faulty, that's all! Sure, his food comes out burnt when he's at other people's houses, but that's beside the point. The Brit turned back down the stairs, yelling up to his brother. "Fine! If you're so damn hungry, I'll go to the bloody store!" He shoved his shoes on, grabbing his coat out of the closet and his phone from the table. "If Alistair or Dylan come home before me, tell them I went out," Arthur called before finally leaving the house.
_Whatever. I need to find my way around town anyway_ , He thought.
Arthur paused on his front porch to examine the neighbourhood. It was different from the one he used to live in, back in England. There was more nature, more flowers and trees and bushes. Here, it was mostly just grass, some hedges used as borders to separate lawns. There was the occasional house with a garden in front. There was, however, a forest not too far from there, near the high school. Luckily for Arthur, both were close, and he planned to check it out after school on Monday. Perhaps he'll meet some mystical creatures to befriend?
There was one problem, Arthur soon realised. He had no idea where the grocery store was. He remembered passing by it when they were moving in, but he wasn't paying much attention to their surroundings.
And so, Arthur wandered around, looking for the store. Like hell he was asking for directions. After about ten minutes of walking and getting nowhere, the Briton turned back towards home, not caring about Peter's whining. He'd just have to wait until their mother got home. Or, at least, that was the plan. Arthur turned around and ran straight into someone's chest. He found himself flat on his ass. He groaned, rubbing his tail bone.
"Sorry dude, didn't see you there. You alright?" Asked the man.
"Yes, I'm fine, thank you. My apologies, I shouldn't have turned around so suddenly..."
"Say, didn't you just move in across the street? The Kirkland's, right?"
Arthur paused. Across the street? Wonderful, the lad must've been from his neighbourhood. Maybe he could help Arthur find his way to the store?
Taking the other's outstretched hand, Arthur stood up, dusting off his clothes. "Yes, that's right. Arthur Kirkland. It's a pleasure to finally meet one of the neighbours," he said politely.
Alfred took his hand again and shook it violently. "Alfred F. Jones, at your service! It's great to have new peeps on the block!" he exclaimed, a bright grin splitting his face.
Arthur tentatively smiled back. "Well, Alfred, since you're here, would you mind telling me how to get to the-"
"Woah, dude, hold still!" Alfred said suddenly, eyes wide. "You got somethin' on your face..." His eyes narrowed, and he leaned in slightly to get a better look. Arthur furrowed his brows, lifting a hand to his face. He jumped when Alfred yelped. "Oh my God, they just moved!"
Arthur rubbed his face. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?" He asked.
Alfred pointed at his face. "Right there! Above your eyes!" He indicated the spot on his own face. Arthur reached up, confused. What was he going on about? There was nothing there but his-
It donned on Arthur. He slowly lowered his hands, crossing his arms over his chest. He glared at Alfred. "Those are my eyebrows, you dolt." Manners be damned, he wasn't going to be insulted like this!
Alfred blinked. "Are you sure?" When he saw how serious the Englishman was, he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Sorry, dude. I've never seen someone with such awesomely large eyebrows as yours..."
Arthur loosened his stance, but continued to scowl. "Whatever. Could you just point me in the direction of the grocery store?" he said tersely.
The American beamed. "Dude, no way! I'm actually headed there right now. We can go together!"
_Just my luck..._ Arthur wanted to refuse, but what good would that do? He doesn't know how to get there. Besides, he already said he was going, there's no way to take that back. He sighed, nodding reluctantly. Alfred whooped and started walking, humming to himself. Arthur trudged behind him. It couldn't be that far, right?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oh, how wrong he was. The store was a 15-minute walk away. Overall, though, the trip wasn''t all that bad. Alfred talked most of the time, Arthur throwing in a few thoughts from time to time to show that he was listening (not that it would've mattered). Arthur used the time to finally get a good look at the American. |
5278c82d667f4390b42361e348bc634d | ['44884031f5ff4eaca24f28a062814f80'] | “I miss my old galaxy, it was so much smaller, friendlier, easier to destroy… it’s not faaair,” Dominator whined. “If only I had my ship, then I could travel back there and see all those lovable dorks again, visit the new planets they were growing, and CRUSH THEM ALL in my ruthless inescapable grasp!.”
She mimed ripping the heads off the imaginary characters before her, laughing maniacally as she did so. Once she had her ship, her armor, and her army, the losers that had somehow managed to defeat her would be torn to shreds and utterly obliterated. She would make that simpering happy-go-lucky freak Wander watch in horror as she burned away his friends to nothing, dissolving their flesh and bones in her dripping molten claws. Oh, how satisfying it would be to hear them scream, especially that idiot Lord Hater. How he had managed to thwart her final attack was still completely beyond her, but he wouldn’t stop her the second time around.
Lord Dominator closed her eyes and blissfully imagined her desired revenge, giggling contentedly at the idea of annihilating the morons who had ruined her life. She was so preoccupied with her fantasy that she failed to notice an extremely large meteor careening directly towards her. It collided with her Orbble and nearly popped it, sending the alien flying at an extremely high speed towards a blue and green planet in the distance that had somehow completely escaped her view.
Once she stopped screaming, Dominator reassessed her situation. “Okay Dee, you can use this to your advantage,” she said to herself. “That planet looks like it could be inhabited, which means it might have resources you can use to construct a device that’ll let you get back to doing what you love: leaving entire galaxies gray and devoid of life in a twisted mockery of the miracle of their creation!”
However, as she neared the planet’s atmosphere, the villainess began to feel like even she was a bit out of her depth. The sphere before her was at least fifteen times larger than the biggest planet in the galaxy she had recently left, though not nearly as big as some of the other planets she had encountered in this particular solar system. If it was populated by sentient life forms (and judging from the satellite she had just passed, it was), then there would be far more living things on the surface of the planet than she was used to dealing with, and she didn’t even have her armor to protect her.
Still, it was nothing she couldn't obliterate, given enough time. The Orbble barely managed to stay intact as it began to penetrate the ozone layer, white hot flames surrounding the bubble as it raced towards the surface of the planet. Dominator could see vast grids of lights and structures below her, confirming that the population had access to electricity at the bare minimum, and likely even more advanced technology. Of course, the villainess was sure that nothing the locals had created would measure up to her ingenious inventions.
Most other people would be in awe of the spectacle of the emerging blue sky and white clouds springing from below the darkness of space, but Lord Dominator didn't care much for the aesthetics of natural beauty. She was busy formulating how to manipulate the resources of the world that was opening up in front of her as she fell, plotting how to subjugate its people and destroy them when they outlived their usefulness. Her slight trepidation over the size of the planet was nothing compared to her determination to see it left as nothing more than a bleak lifeless shell.
Dominator’s eyes lit up as she once again fantasized about ruining the lives of countless miserable dorks, watching them sob as they knelt before her. She could feel a rush of excitement as she got closer and closer to the surface, a city by the ocean appearing as a small cluster, growing bigger by the second. Soon she would be back in her element, terrorizing other living things. She shivered in delight, her mouth a terrifying ear-to-ear grin.
“Yeah, come to mama! I'm Lord Dominator! I'm the most vile, most evil, most powerful being in the universe, and this big dumb mudball is about to learn what it means to be DOMINATED! BWA HA HA H-”
The Orbble was rammed for a final time by a winged flying machine that had come out of nowhere, popping on impact with barely a sound. Dominator was cut off mid-laugh as she slammed against the glass of the cockpit. She vainly tried to dig her fingers into the machine to keep from sliding off and continuing her fall without the protection of her Orbble, but she was unable to keep her grip for more than a second.
“GROP,” Dominator shouted, flailing uselessly and angrily as she continued her unrestrained plummet towards civilization.
* * *
“Launchpad, what in the blazes did we just hit?” Scrooge McDuck asked. He was used to his pilot colliding with all a manner of things, but usually not on a clear day with such an empty sky.
“Not sure, Mr. McDee,” the incompetent aviator replied. “My guess? Probably a skydiving lizard or something.”
2. Close Encounters
“Excuse me, waitress, my steak is well done,” a diner patron said as Magica walked by the table, carrying an order of drinks. She rolled her eyes and turned to address the man with as much false cheerfulness as she could muster.
“Is there something wrong with that?” She asked, her left eye twitching slightly as she forced a smile.
“Well yes, I ordered it medium rare,” the man replied.
“Oh, I'm SO sorry, let me get that fixed for you,” the witch said, grabbing the plate. | c7c5ebf8aa344d31bf341f67c60f90dd | ['44884031f5ff4eaca24f28a062814f80'] | “What was I to do, give up on the legacy built by my ancestors for thousands of years, simply because of a little bloodshed? Were you in my position, you would see things differently.”
Piper didn't reply. She didn't know what to say, because Cyclonis was partially right. Her life had been free, with no constraints. As an orphan she never know her birth family, and went whatever way the wind guided her. This girl before her, this ruthless monarch, had been born into her role as Empress. She knew no other life.
Tired of the silence, Cyclonis decided to change the subject. “You know, I've been-” she paused. Her nose wrinkled as she sniffed the air. “What IS that smell?” she said, disgust plain on her face.
“I haven't been able to bathe since you had your goons throw me in this prison,” Piper responded. “You try being caged in a dank cell with no change of clothes and a leaky chamberpot, see how YOU smell.”
“I... see,” the Empress could not conceal her discomfort. As royalty, she was not used to such deplorable situations. “Perhaps something should be done about that then. I shall have my servants draw you a bathe and have you cleaned. If I'm to continue visiting you, you'll need to be presentable.”
“Why DO you keep visiting me? I've already told you I'm not going to help you conquer the rest of Atmos, and there's nothing you can do to change that. Why don't you just leave and not come back?”
“Why, then you'd be all alone,” Cyclonis said, a strange tone in her voice. “And no one likes being alone.”
With that, the Master of Cyclonia took her leave, locking the prison door behind her.
2. Water
The guards that escorted Piper to the bathing chambers were surprisingly gentle with their grip, as if they were afraid to leave any marks on the prisoner. She wondered if that was Master Cyclonis' doing, then pushed the thought out of her mind. Cyclonis could pretend to be kind to get what she wanted, but the witch didn't really care about her wellbeing. The problem was, she couldn't for the life of her figure out exactly what Cyclonis wanted in the first place. The Empress was intelligent enough to know that Piper would never help continue her bloody conquest of Atmos, but still Cyclonis persisted. It was maddening and confusing to the Storm Hawk, and she didn't care to dwell on the subject further.
“I don't know why you get to bathe in the Master's private chambers, but you'd better take your time in there. You stink something awful,” one of the guards said, opening the door to the bathing area.
“We don't get anything nice like this,” the other guard grumbled. “We have to use the communal showers, and we're Cyclonians! A mangy prisoner getting the royal treatment, it's not fair...”
“Why don't you voice your complaints to Master Cyclonis? I'm sure she'd love to hear them,” Piper said. The guards looked at each other nervously, unsure of how to respond.
“Listen, y-you won't tell her, will you? We're sorry about what we said, please don't tell the Master!”
Piper merely smiled and shut the door to the bath, leaving the nervous pair to wring their hands outside in the hall. The Master's private bathing chambers were just as luxurious as she had expected, the bath itself was massive and ornate, with crystals heating the water and creating a pleasant amount of bubbles. All a manner of herbal conditioners lined the walls, and the soaps were all unique in smell and texture. Each had the Cyclonian logo carved onto its surface, which made Piper giggle.
“She's so vain, even soap has to have her ownership stamped on it,” she remarked out loud.
Once she was done observing the room, Piper wasted no time in throwing off her filthy clothes. She was covered in sweat and grime, and her hair felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of grease over her head. It was going to take a while to get herself completely cleaned up. Walking over to the edge of the water, Piper hesitantly dipped her foot in. It was the perfect temperature, and the sensation sent chills down her spine. It had been too long since she had indulged in something like this. Slowly, Piper eased herself into the bath, closing her eyes as she allowed the warmth to envelope her naked form.
Being comfortable for the first time in ages allowed Piper's mind to wander. She thought of her friends, locked away in another part of Cyclonia. She thought of those still fighting against the encroaching empire, the brave Sky Knights such as Starling and the young rebels like Dove, who still had hopes of freedom. Even though she was now alone with no guards watching over her, Piper had given up on escape. She knew she wouldn't get far, and if she tried it the punishments would probably be severe. She had no hope left.
“What would Aerrow do if he were here?” she wondered, the sound of her own voice putting her more at ease. “He would make the best of things, wait for an opportunity. He wouldn't just lay here moping.”
Piper reached for a sponge and began to scrub away the gunk still stubbornly clinging to her body. Thanks to Cyclonis bringing her a plethora of meals, she was no thinner than when she had been captured, but being confined to that dark cell had cost her a fair amount of muscle definition. Piper made a mental note to ask her captor if she could have some time outside to exercise and get back in shape. Surely if Cyclonis allowed her to use her own private bath she would let her stretch her legs every once in a while. |
a4c8e7eb1c614a0489abf9a2f5cdfdcd | ['448f397bf2584039b5e6a5063f6e1328'] | Dollface
Lillian never liked dolls.
She resented the hands that dragged her to the aisle of girls’ toys, while she lingered at the chemistry sets.
When she was, eventually, given a porcelain doll, she had yanked the head off to look inside, hoping for something to learn, something to discover. Something inside, beyond ruffles and a painted face.
Understandably, this created a good deal of Parental Concern.
At least she was never given another doll.
Until now, she thinks, looking across at Virginia, sorting papers until they’re as neat as the necktie that brushes against them.
She has the wide-eyes, thick black lashes, cherry lips, perfectly curled hair, and a seemingly limitless store of pre-recorded messages to spout whenever she needs a man’s attention.
“I found your last paper _fascinating_,” or “I truly admire your work,” or “Your wife is a very lucky woman,” or any number of platitudes that make Lillian feel ill.
It makes her very easy to hate.
Until she grades Virginia’s work, and decides there might be something inside, after all.
She hires her, and Virginia stops giving her pre-recorded messages, and switches to jokes and retorts and anecdotes.
They have their first yelling match, and Virginia’s lipstick bleeds, just a little, from the corner of her mouth, and Lillian feels a strange sort of relief that it’s not as impervious as she thought.
Virginia keeps being obsequious to every man who walks through their door, but Lillian can, at least, see the gears whirring inside when it happens, the complex machinery that can make her act so simplistically.
Lillian’s machinery is shutting down.
She can barely move or think for herself, sometimes. Her voicebox keeps glitching.
Each morning, she wakes feeling like one of the dolls in the bargain bin. No refunds and no returns.
Until one night, her Blue Fairy kisses her.
And she feels blood run through her veins once more. | b82bbbe22e3d4f3b81fea8dce89234f8 | ['448f397bf2584039b5e6a5063f6e1328'] | “Does your new line have pockets? I hear that’s very important.”
“Well, it’s underwear. So no.”
“Did you want to…record this? Or take notes?” says the endlessly patient woman in the corner of the room.
“You really should,” says David. “I’m sure this interview is going to be historic.”
“Right,” says Patrick, clicking record on his phone and pondering his extent of fashion knowledge.
“Uh. Is it…warm?”
“Again, underwear.”
“Not thermals then?”
David covers his mouth. “Not thermals.”
Patrick aims for a little more than a peek-a-boo smile. “Maybe you should consider thermal underwear. Not a lot of competition from other designers in that market.”
David’s smile edges beyond the cover of his hand.
“Genius. I’d _love_ to offer you an internship.”
The woman in the corner of the room looks like she’s given up on comprehending the scene unfolding.
Patrick tilts his head thoughtfully. “Well, I don’t work for free.”
“Let’s have dinner. Maybe we can come to an arrangement.”
“How does the Cassidy sound?’
“Seven o’clock?”
“Perfect,” says Patrick, standing up to leave. “See you there.”
David doesn’t show up. Not at seven, not at eight. He texts and gets no response. He goes home, feeling the worry surge in his stomach.
Life goes on around him. Stevie and Rachel move in together, sending Patrick lots of pictures of them posed around their Insta-mixer. Twyla starts flirting more and more with the barista and remembering to actually buy Patrick coffee less and less. Very occasionally, someone buys a book from the store. But Patrick’s stuck in the middle of it all, waiting for David.
And somehow, still utterly unprepared for him to turn up.
“Um. Hi.”
“Hi,” says David, looking at the floor. “Can I come in?”
“Oh. Of course,” he says, stepping back to let David in. “...Tea?”
David sips his tea, looking anywhere but at Patrick.
“I meant to call. But then everything that happened…happened.”
“…What happened?”
“Right. You might be the one person in this town who doesn’t read gossip mags. Well, thanks to a shady business manager, my family’s broke. And I can help them out with some of my funds, but every time I leave my apartment, I have to push my way through a crowd that wants an exclusive on “my criminal family”. And it’s just. A lot.” His expression shifts. “But that’s not your problem, obviously.” He stands up. “I should go-”
“Stay,” says Patrick. “Stay as long as you want.”
4. Chapter 4
David stays, and it feels like he was always there.
“Trenches are on trend. What do you think of this?” asks David, passing a sketch across the couch to Patrick.
“Well, obviously it can’t compare to _this_ ,” Patrick says, motioning to David’s Snuggie.
“I just want to reiterate that if you ever tell anyone that I wore this, I will hire someone to murder you in your sleep.”
“Noted. It looks good, David. Really good.”
“…the Snuggie?”
“The trench. Both. Blue suits you.”
David flushes and changes the subject. “I don’t even know why I’m still sketching. The Rose name isn’t exactly prestigious anymore.”
“You said you didn’t know whether it was your work or your name that made you a success. Now you’ll know.”
“Mm. I’m sure that’ll be a huge comfort when I’m destitute on the streets.”
“Or when you’ve rebuilt your empire and you’re on your triannual Bahamas vacation.”
David smiles even as he rolls his eyes at Patrick.
Patrick offers David the bed, mainly because he thinks the shock of sleeping on a sofa could kill him. Patrick doesn’t mind sleeping in the living room. He tells himself that repeatedly, as Roland loudly chews on crisps in the armchair opposite.
“Between you and me, I think David has a little more on his mind than Angora sweaters.”
“You think? Possibly the unravelling of his family’s lives?”
“I think maybe his interest’s moved towards jeans, _if_ you get my drift.”
“I’m really trying not to.”
Roland offers Patrick a chip which he declines. “All I’m saying, is that it seems like you two like each other. And maybe you should just go for it. If you ever wanna sleep in your own bed again, that is.”
“I’m not going to throw myself at someone who’s just looking for a safe place to stay. It’d be unethical.”
Roland looks at him blankly.
“…Ethics is a system of morality which-”
“Ugh, I know what ethics is. Everyone’s failed an Intro to Philosophy class, Patrick.”
“Ok. Goodnight, Roland,” says Patrick, closing his eyes and turning his face to the pillow.
He wakes up a couple of hours later, to the sound of stairs creaking.
Patrick groans. “ _Please_ , just go to sleep.”
“Oh.” comes David’s voice, soft but unmistakeable, “Ok.”
Patrick sits straight up. “Not you, obviously. I, um, thought you were Roland.”
David rounds the corner, arms crossed as his face goes through an interesting array of expressions. “Not long ago, I thought ‘everyone thinks you’re a family of conmen’, was the most humiliating sentence one could hear. But no, you came up with a whole new lowest moment to add to my memoirs.”
Patrick smiles, struck with the confusing sensation that Roland, for once, may actually be right. “I’m going to make it into your memoirs?”
“Footnotes.” says David, “Like, one line about how your nightshirt inspired me to help the ensemble-challenged.”
Patrick gets up off the couch and slowly walks over to David. “Plus the humiliation of being mistaken for Roland. So that’s two lines, at least.”
David takes a tiny step forward and almost stumbles. It _should_ be embarrassing, but Patrick brings his hands to David’s sides to steady him, and just _leaves_ them there and David’s pretty sure he’s lost the ability to process thought.
David’s newly-blank brain tries to remember what they were talking about, so they can get out of this freeze-frame and he can breathe out.
“Right. The Roland trauma…thing,” he manages. |
edc86a1512c941e0bef8319d3b4515b1 | ['4495c91c943f4ed18c8f8c81751b7b6d'] | “Yoongi?” The voice on the other end of the phone was his mom’s.
Yoongi stiffened. She sounded upset, and suddenly all sleepiness was replaced by tension.
“Mom? What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Yoongi, your dad’s in the hospital. They say he’s going to be fine, but we need you to come up here just… well just in case, ok?”
Her voice was edging on hysterical, and immediately Yoongi sat up, a tight bundle of nerves coiling in his stomach.
“What?”
His mom whimpered on the other line.
“It was a car accident. He’s still in the operating room. Everyone else is fine, but we really need you here.”
Yoongi nodded, already up out of bed. “Ok, mom I’m on the way. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Within fifteen minutes he’d packed a random bag of things he might need, got changed, and checked his phone for bus times. The next one would be leaving in 6 minutes, giving him just enough time to make it if he ran.
As he stepped into the doorway, something clenched in his chest and he looked back at the room behind him.
The little pink flower was still lying on his window, small and lonely in the quiet apartment.
Muttering a quick curse, he chucked his shoes off, ran, grabbed the flower and shoved it in his pocket, before returning back to the door.
He knew he couldn’t go back to the clearing, but at least he had his good luck charm with him.
He would need it.
______________________________
The next week passed in a blur for Yoongi.
He arrived home only to find his brother waiting impatiently for him. The two had immediately driven to the hospital, thankfully just in time for their father to wake up.
While the crash had been severe, their dad had only suffered a few broken bones and a pretty severe concussion. That being said, he’d need to stay in the hospital for a few days.
The next few days were spent between his family home and the hospital. His dad was in good spirits but tired out quickly, and so Yoongi, his mom and his brother all rotated shifts to make sure someone was with him always.
Which was how Yoongi found himself now sitting in front of his sleeping father. His dad had been passed out for a few hours and Yoongi was getting stiff from not moving around. He stretched his body, then shoved his hands in his coat pockets, only to furrow his brow in confusion as he felt something in one of them.
It was the flower. He’d honestly forgotten he had it on him.
He stared down at it fondly. It was still just as pink and fresh as when he’d grabbed it so many months ago. The sight of its vibrant petals immediately brought images of Jin’s sweet smile and crinkly eyes to Yoongi’s mind. He hoped Jin was ok. It had been nearly three weeks since he’d last gone to the clearing, and while his father was his main priority, he couldn’t help but worry about the lonely god sitting at his shrine, waiting for Yoongi to come visit him.
“Did someone give you that?” a voice echoed out, and Yoongi looked up to see his dad.
A flush spread across his cheeks.
“Yeah… I guess you could say that,” Yoongi responded. He wasn’t about to say that a mystical god had left him the flower. Not exactly an easy thing to explain to your parents.
“I haven’t seen you smile like that in a while,” the soft voice of his father brought him back to the present.
His dad was looking at him, dark eyes twinkling and a little crooked smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.
“Your mom and I used to worry about you. You’re so good at pushing people away, even though you have such a big heart.”
Yoongi wrinkled his nose. “It’s not that big…” he muttered, but his dad just laughed in response.
“If you like whoever gave you that flower, don’t let them go, Yoongi. Don’t let happiness slip you by.”
Yoongi looked back up to his father and warmth spread through him. They hadn’t always had the best of relationships. His father hadn’t always loved his choice in careers, or his choice in previous partners, but sitting here in comfortable silence as his dad smiled up at him made him think that maybe he really could be happy.
Jin really was his good luck charm.
______________________________
Two nights later Yoongi had a dream.
His father had finally been released from the hospital and their family had celebrated with a big meal. The night had been filled with laughter and love. Yoongi was finally beginning to let the panic of losing a family member slip away.
But, with that release, the worry about Jin and the clearing came back tenfold.
After wishing his family a good night and helping his dad struggle into bed, he finally slipped back into his old childhood room.
He took out the little pink flower from his pocket and placed it beside him on his desk.
“I’ll come home soon,” he whispered, then drifted off to sleep.
Unlike the dreamless darkness he’d grown accustomed to at night, he found himself back in Jin’s dreamscape.
Only this time something was… wrong.
The air, though still tinged with hues of pink and gold, seemed paler, as if someone had been draining the color from the surrounding area. The normally warm breeze that pulled at his bangs seemed cold, almost harsh.
When he sat up he noticed Jin kneeling in front of him.
“Yoongi,” Jin whispered, and Yoongi scrambled, shuffling to kneel in front of him.
“Jin?” he asked in confusion. “What’s going on?” | de891d321fe54bc4a9437150ece038c6 | ['4495c91c943f4ed18c8f8c81751b7b6d'] | Seokjin leaned back in his chair and looked at Jimin thoughtfully as he finished chewing. “I’ll be honest, I was mad, but not at you. Not really. Yeah it was upsetting seeing my restaurant get messed up, I’ve worked really hard for this place, you have no idea. But even when I was the most mad I knew it wasn’t really your fault. You’d been respectful the whole time, you kept your hat on, if it wasn’t for me insisting you relax, you probably would have gotten away with it. And besides, you shouldn’t have to apologize for something that is out of your control.”
Jimin’s eyes were soft as he stared at him, and Seokjin found it annoyingly distracting. He sighed before continuing. “As far as the food bit goes, it’s simple.” He gestured to the food in front of him. “My main goal in life is to be happy. I’ve been through a lot, and I wasn’t always content. I gain happiness in seeing people smile, and one of the easiest ways to do that is to feed them. Food is home to so many people, and I love the idea that someone can come to my restaurant and get a little taste of home whenever they need a break.”
Seokjin coughed awkwardly when he finished his speech. He knew his ears were burning, always the first to betray him whenever he got attention. He looked up and was startled to see the soft smile on Jimin’s face.
“You’re really great, hyung,” Jimin said gently, and Seokjin flushed.
“I’m normal.”
Jimin shook his head. “That’s definitely not true.”
Seokjin coughed awkwardly, then began stacking his plates. “Well, it’s also true that it’s late. You should head back soon.”
Jimin nodded and began clearing his plates. Seokjin protested at first, but Jimin resolutely ignored him and trucked everything into the back and helped wash up.
It was very sweet.
When Jimin finally wrapped himself back in his layers and headed to the door, Seokjin followed.
“Hey Jimin,” he called out to the awkward lump of clothing. Jimin turned back, only his eyes visible.
_ Cute _ .
“Give me your phone,” Seokjin said, trying to suppress his grin at the sight of the guy who looked more like a dumpling than human.
Jimin handed his phone over, and Seokjin typed in his phone number and saved it as “Handsome Chef Hyung”. He showed it to Jimin with a grin, before returning it.
“If you ever want a good meal, don’t come randomly covered in ridiculous clothes next time. Just text me and I’ll let you in after closing.”
Jimin’s eyes widened. “Hyung, you don’t have to do that, you’ve already done way more than you had to-”
Seokjin waved his hand at him. “It’s fine, Jimin. I told you, right? I like feeding people.”
Seokjin couldn’t see Jimin’s face underneath all his layers, but he could see Jimin’s eyes crinkle into crescent moons.
Even after saying good-bye to Jimin and finishing closing up his restaurant, the image of Jimin’s bright eye smile stayed with him. And that night, when he finally went to bed in the early hours of the morning, Seokjin fell asleep with a matching smile on his face.
___
“So how was your date with the idol?”
Seokjin spluttered at the question, nearly dropping his phone.
“Yah, Yoongi-yah, what the hell, warn a guy before you try to kill him.”
Yoongi snorted on the other end of the line. “That’s not an answer, hyung.”
Seokjin rolled his eyes. “That’s because it didn’t warrant an answer. I did not go on a date with Park Jimin. He just came around to apologize, that’s it. Relationship done.”
“I heard you gave him your number.”
Seokjin choked.
“I’m gonna kill Jungkook.”
Yoongi let out a low whistle. “So it’s true… damn you work fast hyung.”
“I didn’t do it because I was hitting on him. I just felt bad because he was wrapped up like a marshmallow and he looked skinny. I told him to text me if he ever needed food,” Seokjin sighed.
Yoongi snorted again. “So… you told him to text you if he wanted to eat with you.”
Seokjin could feel his ears turn red with heat. “I’m ignoring you. Consider yourself ignored right now.”
Yoongi let out a light chuckle before responding. “Well I’m ignoring you ignoring me. I’m happy for you, hyung. You deserve someone good in your life. And he seems sweet from everything I’ve heard. Apparently he was adamant that his management pay as large a settlement as they could for the restaurant. I didn’t even have to negotiate with them, they kept over-bidding me.”
Seokjin felt himself soften at that. “I mean, if anything that just tells me you’re a crappy lawyer, but… noted.”
“Yeah, well, this crappy lawyer wants you to be happy. I’m glad you put yourself out there, hyung. It’s been a while.”
Seokjin sighed. It had been a while. “Yeah, well, he probably won’t even come. And that’s fine, I just wanted to let him know he was welcome.”
Yoongi paused before answering. “If he has any taste, he’ll come back to visit you hyung. And from what I’ve heard from his manager Namjoon, he has pretty good taste.”
Seokjin smiled softly. He knew he was being silly, but already the memory of the sweet guy wrapped in his comically large outfit made him feel warm and soft in ways he hadn’t felt in a long time. And, if Seokjin were being honest, he really hoped Jimin did come back.
___ |
9a6863433bdf4d71ae72581873da70b5 | ['4499dd7177ba43dda21da23ad26495eb'] | “They’re fae, poor excuse of a fae, but one of us nonetheless, think of us as freshly fallen snow and them as the snow that’s been stepped on and peed on multiple times! Their personality is just as nasty as that snow too and they have a penchant for kidnapping little humans and then killing them in the most creative way possible, they make it into a competition, winner gets a newborn child or something,” he closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of Kendou’s fingers combing through his hair. He never liked talking about these things, especially not to people who didn’t have any right to meddle in things that did not concern them.
“A new born child?” Kirishima echoed and Monoma didn’t have to open his eyes to know that they were being reevaluated, being given cautious looks and doubting their trustworthiness. It happened every time they told a human about them, they were viewed as monsters and just because a few hundred years had passed it didn’t mean they weren’t going to be treated the same as always.
Tsuburaba squirmed from his spot next to Tetsu, “they have a particularly dry sense of humor.”
Tokage let out a snort she had been absentmindedly playing with Shiozaki’s hair, when everyone turned to look at her she simply smiled at them before waving at Monoma to continue the explanation, not that he could see her but he got the general idea of it considering everyone had gone quiet again.
“The point here is, they’re dangerous and while they might be fae we don’t feel any particular love for them. The same can be said about us, they _loathe_ us. Case and point; the current wound I’m dying from.”
There was a sharp pause as everyone (well every one of the humans)looked at the blond unsure if he was joking.
“You’re dying?” Sero finally squeaked out, feeling the guilt starting to creep up.
Monoma let out a laugh, sitting back up and looking at Sero with amusement in his eyes, “it was a joke. I thought humans were good at those? No, I’m not dying, they have to do a lot better to try and kill me. But anyways the point here is Unseelie equals big bad and nasty little faes with a terrible fashion style, who _will not hesitate to kill you._ Fae can’t harm each other which is why they got creative with the poison but they can and will kill you much faster because you are weak useless-”
“Monoma!”
He took a deep breath closing his eyes and running a hand through his hair. Once he reopened them Shinsou couldn’t help but notice how utterly exhausted those eyes seemed to be.
“Right well, the reason why it’s so important for you to know of their dangers is because just as our own world is split in between Seelie and Unseelie this forest has done much the same. Dryads and Naiads changed affiliations once they appeared in here. Fae are extremely territorial,” this time he was more serious, his tone had changed and it felt like this was it, the big revelation even though they clearly had already gone over that.
“The only reason why we’re not killing you on the spot is because we’re...merciful. And we recognize that this isn’t our world. But they don’t care about that and I can guarantee you that if you wander into Unseelie territory _you will die._ So stop going into the forest at night, stop aggravating everyone, stop sticking your nose into business that is not your own because you can and will die if you stumble across the wrong sorts of people.”
He let that hang in the air, waiting to see who would back out first and ask for their memory to be removed, it wouldn’t be the first time, he thought sourly.
“Okay so how do we know which part is theirs and which ones yours?” Kirishima finally asked.
Kendou sighed, this was where it got..difficult.
“We’ve set up some um help for you guys, they’ll walk with you if you need to go in here after dark and they’ll keep an eye out for anything threatening. They’ll hang around your house so uh please take care of them?”
Shinsou’s eyes narrowed, it felt like they were more like surveillance guards rather than anything helpful.
“We can take care of ourselves,” Ashido said her, lips pressed in a thin line as she gave them a slight glare.
“Oh I’m sure you can, your friend demonstrated it so clearly,” Monoma mocked.
“Just for that I’m putting you on the night shift,” Kendou said before turning to the humans.
“I know you’re capable but also know that your presence endangers the others who we’re supposed to protect, so consider it as a way to make friends rather than having anyone take care of you.”
Ashido wasn’t content with the outcome but she took what she could get and nodded.
Kendo smiled glad that at least they wouldn’t fuss too much about the new arrangements.
“It’s going to get dark soon, why don’t we get you home?”
* * *
They had met Midoriya Izuku once they had returned, he looked more treey (was that a word? It is now.) than the rest, what with the green hair and all. He was on the short side so he resembled more of a tree stump than an actual tree (Monoma’s words).
Shinsou had thought he was funny and kind, far nicer than Monoma had been. (Not quite as pretty though)
“If you ever need anything from us, don’t hesitate to ask!” Midoriya beamed at them, Shinsou wasn’t sure if the dryad was used to handling humans more often or if he was just a naturally warm person.
“Thank you,” Kirishima smiled back just as brightly and Shinsou had to shield his eyes from the pure brightness the two sunshines radiated. | e8a0439bfc6d49b78088c298abed26c9 | ['4499dd7177ba43dda21da23ad26495eb'] | > im going to be honest life is literally tearing me apart so this chapter isn't its best but it helped me calm dow so lowkey i think thats what matters here- anywayS what do you guys think? Do you like it? HAte it? Want some doughnuts? Tell me your thoughts pls. the next chapter shall be the eeeeeeeend hows it gonna end you ask? well wait and see!
>
> QOTD: What's your favorite animal?
>
> AOTD: for me its penguins bc well penguiNs
>
> anyways i hope you all have a lovely day and remember to stay hydrated!
>
> p.s. noteditedillgettoitlater
**Author's Note:**
> o k a y so this is going to have three chapters and hopefully thatll be the end of it. I know ive been gone for a while so soz about that im trying to get it together (Spoiler alert im failing). anyways i rlly should be finishing up the fae fic but this story wont s hut uP so im going to get it out of my system in order to focus on other stories. i hope you guys enjoyed it! i know its not very humourous as the first part but i didnt think it was the time for it considering whats going on- anYwaYS the next chapter will probs have more of Shinsou panicking so look out for that ig.
>
> have a lovely day everyone <3
>
> ps imsorryforanyandallmistakesimhalfasleep |
c10b363478cd4d8797bc90676225e0c6 | ['44a294efc3e349809b04f0319c0ad3ae'] |
On the Perks of Gouged Ice
**Author's Note:**
> This was written several years ago, when the Pittsburgh Penguins won the Stanley Cup. I was so excited, I couldn't help but write this huge basket of fluff. Decided to upload it here to AO3 as well.
>
> It's nice that Zach is from Pittsburgh, too, though I have no idea if he likes hockey or not.
Chris texts Zach around 8:00 in the evening saying he's bored and wants Zach to come over so they can chill, or so they can go out somewhere. Chris gets a reply message around 8:03 in the evening from Zach. Much to his surprise, it lacks Zach's usual eloquence, even under text, and instead Zach's choice of wording is obviously plain and curt.
_"Can't go out right now."_ It says. Chris furrows his brow, Zach would have normally at least put the simplistic message in more complicated terms - Chris imagines it would be something along the lines of _"I'm terribly sorry, Christopher, but I can't accompany you out of our places of residency tonight."_. Chris also thinks this would be best if imagined in a British accent, but he tells himself to quit getting distracted and to text Zach back.
_"Well, can I come over?"_
He expects a lengthy explanation of possibly why he can't go and join Zach at his place, instead he receives yet another brief reply and he can only stare at his phone in confusion for a moment at the abruptness of Zach's words.
_"Bring beer or munchies."_
He can only assume that this some form of invitation, and he quirks his head to the side before closing his phone and running out to the mini-mart. He doesn't know what to buy exactly, given the fact that Zach has given him a choice. Tostitos or Budweiser? Chris buys both. He gets to Zach's place in a matter of 20 minutes, carrying two 12-packs of beer and a bag of Tostitos in his arms, and he doesn't bother to knock. Instead, he gingerly sets the goodies down on the step and reaches under the plant for Zach's spare key and enters the house slowly.
The front entrance of the house is dark and Chris is slightly confused, but he shuts the door behind him. He calls out into the dark house while trying to simultaneously balance the beer and chips in his arms and slip off his shoes.
"Zach?"
But he gets no reply and he pauses and stares down the hallway, before shuffling down in his now sock-clad feet. He slides into the kitchen and sets the supplies onto Zach's counter, but he still hasn't located the older man. He leans on the marble top for a moment, hearing only the faint, mumbling sound of an announcer on the living room television. He lets his tongue touch his upper canine and he stares absentmindedly yet curiously into the air as he yells out a little louder now.
"Zach?"
To his surprise, there's a response this time. It's faint, almost as if it's far away, or merely distracted, and Chris isn't really sure which of the two it is. It mumbles something Chris can't quite understand. So he tries again.
"Za-aach?"
He yells louder that time, a taunting new inflection added to his voice, as he starts to move to walk out of the kitchen and back down the hall towards Zach's living room. Another faint response, and he can barely make it out, but he notes that it sounds like Zach's copying his attempt at a sing-song tone.
_"Shut uu-uppp."_
Chris pauses - he must have heard wrong. He tries a new approach.
"Marco?"
"...Quinto."
Chris lets his eyes close and he chuckles quietly, "That's not how the game goes, you know." He walks further and finds Zach sitting on the edge of his couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped and watching the television intently.
"...Dude what are you doing?"
"Silencio."
"Excuse me?"
"Shut your face, woman." Zach mumbles as he bites down onto his knuckles, still watching the television screen. Chris is still reeling from the fact that Zach just called him a woman and he moves to further investigate what exactly it is that Zach is watching so fixedly. Chris's brows furrow and he glances at the TV anyway - it's a hockey game. _That_ is the reason he just got called a woman? Chris begins to feel annoyed, then bitter. It's when he's edging towards 'comically hostile' that he goes and stands beside Zach and stares at him expectantly. His lips purse when Zach barely acknowledges his presence and he chooses to talk to gain the man's attention.
"Since when do you like hockey?"
Zach says nothing. Chris tries again.
"I brought beer and munchies, as per request."
Nothing.
"In the kitchen."
Silence.
"Meaning... not in the living room."
Silence. Chris glances away, thinking for a moment. He glances back and tries again.
"I fucked your mother last night and she **loved** it."
_Still_ nothing. Chris's eyes squint and he likes to believe that he looks irritated, and he refuses to admit that all the face has probably done is wrinkled up his forehead. He glares anyway, and he half expects Zach to say something at least in response to his stupid facial expression. But he doesn't. He keeps on watching the fucking hockey game. Chris starts to listen to the announcer's commentary, but as he does, he suddenly realizes that the program is going on a break and Zach is standing up.
The brunette yells "Commercial!" and casually walks over and pelts Chris across the back of the head, mumbling something about not talking about his mother that way - she is a saint. Chris stands dazed as Zach walks past him towards the kitchen. He feels like a moron but he follows. He hears Zach's voice go up an octave.
"Oooooh, Tostitos!" | cacc38fb9afc4b86a966af7bfb5e3bc4 | ['44a294efc3e349809b04f0319c0ad3ae'] | "Chris... I'm gunna kiss you." Chris's mouth falls open just a little and Zach keeps talking nervously. "And... And if you don't l-like it... or, or you don't want it... Just, just push me away and I'll lie down and go to sleep. And we won't talk about it again, and we won't have to room together anymore if you don't want to. But... But I'm going to kiss you now."
"I..." Chris starts to stammer, but he's cut off when Zach leans in and presses his mouth against his.
It's a light touch, honestly. Nothing deep or passionate, but rather more like "These are my lips, this is how they feel brushed against yours." They don't move for a moment, and Chris feels like he's suddenly forgotten how to kiss someone. But he feels Zach press a little more firmly against his mouth, and it feels a little more like "These are my lips... please tell me you like the way they feel brushed against yours." And Chris remembers how to kiss. He purses back nervously. He tries to think back to all his previous kisses, and he can't think of a single one that made the traditional 'kiss' noise. That little noise that, well, it's not wet, or smacking, or the sound of breath or pants, but rather just the sound of a chaste, gentle kiss, that little noise that happens when the lips relax and separate a little. It's that kiss-sound. Chris can't remember ever actually hearing it when he kissed someone, but Zach's kiss makes that noise as their lips calm and purse together lightly. There's no tongue and there really doesn't need to be, cause Chris is trembling a _lot_ already. He pushes lightly on Zach's shoulder and separates them without a word, but with that kiss-sound again, and he feels Zach's hand slide down and off his body.
He hasn't closed his eyes at all, but now that Zach has pulled back, he can see the look of defeat and regret that graces over his features. He can also see that Zach's trying to hide it - Zach is failing miserably. The older man doesn't look away from Chris, but he stares and licks his lips and Chris wonders if he's trying to linger on the feeling of the kiss. He clears his throat and his eyes waiver a little as he mumbles aloud.
"Alright. I'm going to go back to sleep." He says sadly and he starts to scoot away and turn to the other side, so his back will face Chris. But Chris won't let him. His arm reaches out and touches Zach's. He doesn't grab the man, he doesn't feel like he needs to, he just touches carefully and Zach stops and looks back at him.
"No, don't. It's just... new." Chris mutters. Zach just nods and doesn't look at Chris. "...And nice." He whispers. And he can see Zach's eyes dart up to stare at him. And maybe Zach can see the intrigue and questions in Chris's eyes, but he nods his head as if he's answering a question, and Chris doesn't really think as he leans over, craning his neck as best he can, and kisses Zach again.
He's got his hand resting flat against Zach's bicep and he feels his fingers tremble against the warm skin as their lips move tentatively and softly, and that kiss noise is there again in the otherwise silent room. Chris lets his eyes slip closed and a shaky breath pushes out his nose. Zach takes the initiative and presses a little more firmly, trying to deepen the kiss a little, and suddenly Chris can feel Zach's hand resting on his neck, and his long fingers are touching the baby hairs on Chris's nape. The younger man shivers and he curls his fingers a little against Zach's bicep. Chris's torso is twisted slightly and suddenly his body feels very heavy on his right arm which is trying to support his weight. Maybe Zach can sense that, because Chris suddenly feels Zach's other hand touching his waist lightly, his fingers lightly grazing over Chris's hip and wrapping around slowly to press against the small of his back. Zach tightens his hold gently, and somehow Chris just knows, and he doesn't stop himself as he shifts around as Zach lies back on his back, Chris resting half beside him, and half on top of him.
He feels Zach's tongue graze over his lips tentatively and he pulls his head back, letting his eyes open. Zach's staring up at him, and he can feel the older man's hand sliding down his neck and over his clothed shoulder, then back up to his neck, and up to his cheek. Chris can't help it as he nuzzles his cheek into the touch. He closes his eyes and moves his left arm up to thread his fingers into Zach's disheveled hair. He presses his mouth back down against Zach's, his lips already slightly open, and their tongues meet half way. Chris can feel himself breathing heavily, can feel the way Zach is cradling Chris's body down against his own, a firm hand pressed between his shoulder blades. |
e9491318dca64d5f83e2b0311e55bf19 | ['44c1f01b50f547c8ae6004972492f034'] | Gaby laughs genuinely and drops her hand to my knee, her perfect manicure digging softly into my leg as she squeezes. “Oh please, Darling, don’t be silly. We both know that’s not your style. I’d just as soon expect you on your hands as knees as I’d expect myself to be there. We’re not meant for that, and you know it. That’s why we need someone like Illya in our lives. I think if you’d just give it a try, you’d like it as much as I do.”
She gives my knee a decisive pat and leans back, and there’s promise in her voice. I don’t even want to consider that she might be right.
“I really doubt that,” I tell her, though my firmness is more illusion than certainty. I’m not unaccustomed to taking charge and giving orders, but this extremity of indentured servitude is different than demanding a P&L by the end of the day. I’m still not convinced that the Russian is a truly willing participant here. Something almost haunting about those eyes...
“I think what you need is to talk to him yourself,” Gaby interrupts my thoughts, as if she’s read my mind. The idea that she might be able to do just that is momentarily terrifying. Or maybe I’m more transparent than I like to believe.
I finish the last of my coffee and set the cup down, considering what I might even ask the Russian. It wasn’t the kind of question that came up in everyday discussions. If it were up to me I’d prefer to stick with a traditional ‘How’s the weather’ and avoid the discomfort of it all. Interpersonal conflict is… Messy and not something I enjoy.
Gaby stands up, taking her coffee with her as she peers down at me, her hand finding the warm side of my cheek.
“I’ll leave you two alone and you can ask him anything you want.” She purses her lips at me in a small kiss and lets me go, heading back towards the kitchen. “Illya, come!” The sharpness of her voice feels a stark contrast to her affection moments ago, and I wonder which one was more of a performance for her.
The Russian appears in the doorway a moment later. I know he’s been down on his hands and knees scrubbing the floor, but he’s straight out of a modern men’s catalogue. Not that I don’t appreciate good taste, but I wouldn’t be wearing my sunday best while interacting with household cleaners. I’m beginning to suspect that Gaby dresses him, too. I wonder how far her control reaches with this man.
“Illya, I want you to sit with Mr. Solo and answer any questions he has, and be honest.”
Her tone sounds like someone chiding a small child to be good for the sitter, and I give a small snort. I wish I’d had the opportunity to back out of this conversation, but being the one to have brought it up in the first place I feel like I only have myself to blame.
Illya nods at Gaby, more of a soft bow of his boxy, blonde head. I really have no idea why someone built in such a fashion would enjoy being brought to their knees… I lean back, though, putting one ankle on my knee. Gaby slips out of the room, giving me a small wink as she goes. I’m not quite sure what to do with the Russian now that I’ve got him.
“Sit, please,” I invite, gesturing towards the empty seat across from me. He looks at me like a wary dog, lingering in the doorway for too long.
“Or stand,” I add dryly, putting my hand back on my lap.
The Russian rolls his eyes and leans back on his heels slightly, looking away. “What is it that you wanted, Mr. Solo?” he asks, his tone terse and impatient. Apparently his obedience to Gaby is more singular than advertised.
“Just an honest conversation. Please, sit,” I try again.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This is the longest chapter so far. I'm not sure when I'll be posting the next update. I really appreciate the comments and kudos. They keep me motivated.
5. An Honest Conversation
Eventually the Russian sits, though he’s chosen the seat farthest from me. It’s a start, I try to remind myself, but if I were being completely honest it’s a bit irritating. All this time I thought he was avoiding me for the sake of my comfort, but now I wonder if he actively dislikes me. It’s not something I’d even considered before, but if he’s some kind of long suffering lover-hopeful, it makes sense he wouldn’t be happy to sit and chat with his competition.
I realize that I haven’t said anything for many seconds, and the silence starts to get a bit loud. The Russian is just staring at me, boredom carved into every angle of his stony, expressionless face. It occurs to me that I’m supposed to be asking the questions, and as much as I’d prefer it, this likely isn’t going to be your standard conversation.
I’m not overly fond of being put on the spot, but I work rather well under pressure. It goes with my job, my life, my skill set. Unfortunately I still feel like I’m treading into unfamiliar waters as I try to articulate what I’d like to ask...
“... So, uh… Illya?” I ask, giving a slight questioning look at the Russion to make sure I’m pronouncing it right. He just stares back at me, and I take his neutrality as a good sign that I haven’t mangled the pronunciation or otherwise offended him by using his first name.
“... How did you and Gaby meet?” | 7c9ab2e760894a5b8a4a4410d3a6537e | ['44c1f01b50f547c8ae6004972492f034'] | “We’re going to get something to eat. There’s a diner a few blocks from here,” Dean said, throwing Sam’s coat at him.
“Dean, we don’t have the money for that,” Sam objected, clutching his coat tightly without putting it on. It wasn't fair for Dean to get his hopes up like that.
“Sure we do. You think I don’t have my own emergency stash that dad doesn't know about?” Dean asked, the corners of his mouth curling into a grin.
“This isn't an emergency, Dean. I’m just tired of spaghettiOs,” Sam said, eyes downcast with guilt.
Dean grabbed Sam’s coat from him then and tugged it around his shoulders. “Shut up, Sam. You need to eat or you’re going to be a scrawny nerd the rest of your life” he said, pushing his little brother toward the door.
An hour later Dean watched as Sam finished off a slice of pie and leaned back in his chair with a satisfied groan. He hadn't seen Sam eat so much in one sitting in months. It was such a relief to see Sam eating that Dean didn't even care that he’d be skipping lunch for the next two weeks just to pay for it.
“Take your medicine, Sammy,” Dean reminded, pushing the bottle of green pills across the table.
2. Chapter 2
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Dean knows better than to let his 14-year-old brother tag along on a hunt.
The heady scent of omega assaulted Dean the moment he set foot inside. People liked to say he scent of omega reminded them of sweetgrass or wildflowers. In Dean’s opinion, those comparisons were sentimental nonsense meant to flatter omegas. Nothing, especially not some stinking plant, could compare to the scent of an omega in heat.
“Can you open a window or something?” Dean said as he retreated in search of fresh air. At eighteen years old, Dean was both in the prime of his fertility and too young to have acquired much self control when it came to fertile omegas.
Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother and peered inside the darkened house with a flashlight. “I don’t smell anything,” he said.
“You have no idea how lucky you are. The place stinks of omega. Some runaway probably holed up in here to avoid being bred,” Dean replied. Runaway omegas were such a common occurrence that Dean wasn’t even surprised anymore. He just wished they’d stop picking haunted houses for hideouts.
“Do you think they’re still here?” Sam asked, leaning in a little farther without actually crossing the threshold of the house.
“We won’t know until we check it out. Now go open a window. If there’s an omega in there they won’t see you as a threat,” Dean said. He gave Sam a shove to get him through the doorway and stood just outside, shotgun in hand. Under normal circumstances Dean wouldn’t be letting his fourteen year old brother tag along on a hunt like this at all, let alone sending him into the place first. These weren’t normal circumstances though. John had been out of town nearly a month and something suspicious was definitely going on in the town they were currently calling home.
Sam stumbled inside and tucked his flashlight under one arm. The open door let in enough moonlight to illuminate the center of the room, but the corners were eerily dark. He gripped the edge of the nearest window and pulled hard, but frame only creaked. “I think they’re painted closed,” Sam shouted.
“Great,” Dean muttered as he pulled his shirt up over his mouth and nose and stepped inside. The house looked at least a hundred years old and if he hadn’t spotted a record player from the 70s in the corner, Dean would have figured no one had been in there for at least that long. The house was covered in a layer of dust at least an inch thick and the only footsteps disturbing it belonged to Sam.
“Shine the light over there,” Dean said, pointing toward some furniture piled up in the corner. The dust looked a little thinner there and it looked exactly like the sort of small space a frightened omega would use for a den.
Sam skimmed the light across the room and hovered over the pile of furniture. “I don’t see anything, Dean. It doesn’t look like anybody has been in here for years. Are you sure we have the right place?” Sam asked.
“This is definitely the place, Sam. If you had a sense of smell you wouldn’t be asking such stupid questions,” Dean said. The undisturbed dust was suspicious, but the scent of omega was undeniable.
Sam swept the room with his flashlight again, lingering over a few faded portraits on the wall. “Yeah, but what does an omega scent have to do with three missing Alphas?” he asked.
“Come on, Sam. Use that genius brain of yours,” Dean said. He ripped the flashlight out of Sam’s head and continued the search, heading for the stairs where the scent seemed to be stronger.
Sam hung back, still staring at the portraits in the darkness.
“The scent has everything to do with Alphas disappearing. They were probably lured here by the scent. Whatever ganked them is probably just using the Omega as bait. So we’d better find it before it gets bored and kills the omega too,” Dean explained as he climbed the stairs. It was only when he felt the sudden drop in temperature at the top of the stairs that he realized he’d left Sam behind. |
56f48a7b63a2410eb40d53d660ad431e | ['44ce721fdc9e4e72a77ffd0bb636dbb5'] |
Wait for Phil to Come Home
**Author's Note:**
> This prompt was provided by Phantom at LINK if you'd like to go show her some love!
>
> This work was originally posted to my Tumblr on Feb. 14th, 2017! If you'd like to give it notes, it can be found LINK
>
> You can also follow me at LINK
Phil fumbled around for his keys outside the front door to their flat. It was ridiculous, really, how his clumsy fingers always seemed to grab the wrong key time and again, to get stuck in the key ring, to put it in upside down. Dan usually unlocked the door. When he and left left together, that is. Which usually they do.
It had been more odd than Phil expected, leaving the flat and traveling across London to collab without Dan. He leaves the house alone all the time, but today it just seemed too far. Empty. He finally heard the key move the tumblers to the unlocked position, and he gripped the knob and quietly entered the room.
It was late now, after all. Not too late, Dan would surely still be awake, but likely in his bedroom curled up in bed with his laptop, the glow of the blue light washing his face. He slipped into the hallway, trying not to make a sound.
That is when he heard it, the faintest whisper coming from the stairway. Odd, he thought. Who would Dan be talking to at this time of night? A pang of jealousy shot through Phil, and in an instant it was gone. Dan’s not a cheater. But who is here?
He crept up to the rail as sneaky as his tall body could muster. He knelt down, listening for Dan’s voice. Yep, definitely him.
“So I grabbed the pizza from the guy, and he gave me this weird look. I swear I thought he’d recognized me, but turns out he was just waiting for me to pay. I could have sworn I hit the ‘pay online with account’ button, but guess not! Anyway, so I guess the location of the Dan and Phil’s secret lair is still secret to the internet stalkers!”
Phil chuckled lightly under his breath, peeking his head around the corner. He didn’t know what he expected to see, really. Maybe Dan leaned up against a wall, on the phone with his mum. Maybe him face down on the hallway floor mid existential crisis.
But he certainly did not expect to see Dan, sitting cross-legged in front of Phil’s house plant, telling it about his day. He instinctively snapped his head back around the corner, cover his grin with both hands. His eyes crinkled at the edges in the way they do when he’s laughing so hard he isn’t thinking about what he looks like. Phil presses himself to the wall, listening harder.
“The pizza was delicious, as always, and so I just kinda sat around after that answering e-mails and waiting for Phil to get home. Which,” Dan looked at his phone, “why isn’t he home yet?” Dan’s voice sounded mildly shocked. Phil’s breath hitched. Suddenly his listening in felt invasive. He should reveal himself now. But the lump in his throat keeps him from saying anything, and it felt too quiet to cough to announce himself.
“I know it’s silly to miss him when he’s only been out for about 10 hours. But I do. I’m a sap!” Dan said, throwing his arms up in the air. “What can I say? I’m a clingy sap, totally dependent on his boyfriend for entertainment. Not to say you aren’t good company,” he lied. “Just that I could talk to you all day, but you won’t talk back.”
Phil’s heart was pounding. His feet were planted firmly where they were, and despite his best intentions, he could not make them move. Every overheard word was like another weight, keeping his physical body in place, but pulling his mind deeper into the conversation like quicksand beneath him.
“Phil is just really good to talk to. He’s funny, he’s bright.” Dan looked towards the ceiling as the list continued in his mind, quicker than he could get the words out. “An incredible debater, though he’s always wrong and I’m always right, of course,” he chuckled, obviously kidding. Phil rolled his eyes in the darkness. “He’s so sweet, Phil is. He’s really like the best person. I love him so much.”
“Oh, Dan-” Phil said. Then he slapped his hand over his mouth violently.
See, Dan had never told Phil he loved him before. Neither of them had said it, really. It was more of an understanding between them. An unspoken agreement that it didn’t need to be said. Not that Phil really agreed, wholeheartedly. But the last thing he’d want is to pressure his boyfriend into something he didn’t want to do.
Or to overhear him reveal his feelings while talking to a plant, and then thoroughly embarrass him by opening his mouth and letting him know he heard it all.
“Phil?” Dan whispered, still unsure he heard anything at all.
Phil pried his foot from the carpet and rounded the corner, climbing the first step and waving awkwardly at the adult man on the floor talking to a bonzai tree. Dan bolted upright and out of the room. Phil took the steps two at a time to catch up to him.
“Dan, wait!” he called out. “You don’t need to hide, come on.” Dan stopped just short of the bedroom door, realizing he couldn’t hide very well in their tiny space anyway. He dropped his hands from his hips and turned to face him.
“How long were you there?” he asked. Phil searched his face for any emotion, anger, sadness, embarrassment. Nothing tipped him off about how to proceed. | 9f9bfbb01c444a47807c570e8148bdd3 | ['44ce721fdc9e4e72a77ffd0bb636dbb5'] | Phil squinted at the figure Dan held in his hands, the form only just ringing a bell somewhere in the depths of his mind.
“Please, save this for me.” Dan’s voice was shaky. “You gave it to me a long time ago, and I need you to take it back for now.”
The recognition flooded him.
“It’s the god damn Tonberry,” Phil laughed. It was cheesy, and corny, and perfect. And very Dan. “I can’t believe you still have that,” he smiled.
“Of course I still have it, Phil. I have everything you’ve ever given me.”
“I doubt that very much!” Phil teased. “I can list about five gifts that mysteriously went missing during our move to the duplex.”
“We don’t really have time for this argument, Phil,” Dan said, and it brought them back to reality.
“You’re right, you’re right. Sorry.” Phil didn’t know what else to say. He’d done elaborate declarations before, and while they were nice, it wasn’t their style. It was so much easier to say how he felt when it wasn’t goodbye.
“I’ll come back for you, Love.” Dan guided his forehead to Phil’s in the dim moonlight. He pressed them together firmly, eyes shut tight against the morning.
“I know you will, Dan. I know.” |
bb7006f312af40eda12d3eeca69ae91f | ['450dc26c92764fc9b51a587e03ae3658'] | Bellamy was lying on his back. Clarke traced a finger over his chest; watching him watch it. Her finger travelled around each nipple, then between his pectorals, across the muscles in his stomach and lower, disappearing beneath the blanket.
“Clarke...” Bellamy whispered, his eyes big as he watched her.
“Shh...” She worked him quickly to hardness. The sheets rustled softly as Clarke sat up. She pushed the covers down and stretched one leg over Bellamy, pushing her clit against his dick. He let out a breath and Clarke glanced up, realized he had been holding it. Slowly, she straightened and got on her knees, grabbed his dick and placed it at her entrance. With a smile she sank down, then stilled.
They had forgotten to pull down the curtains. A beam of moonlight had found its way into their bed, stretching across Bellamy's chest. His skin shone with it, dark and darker where bruises were starting to bloom.
“Don't move”, Clarke whispered and pulled up, sank down. The air in the room was cool, fresh against her skin, a lovely contrast to the heat where skin touched skin. They breathed in sync and Clarke looked for his left hand. She leaned against it as she increased her speed, squeezed his fingers as hard as she could. Bellamy whispered her name and Clarke leaned down, pressed her lips to his. The new angle lit stars in her groin.
She didn't know how long she rode him, slowing down when Bellamy's breathing sped up. When she came, the moonlight was playing with Bellamy's hair, painting it silver. Clarke moaned, one long continuous sound. Her chest expanded with every heavy breath. The skin on her arms had goose bumps, her back sweaty.
Clarke had closed her eyes, but now she opened them and continued her movement, hips rolling softly as she worked Bellamy to an orgasm. She studied his face as the orgasm washed over him: the way he bit his lip, screwed his eyes shut. It looked almost painful.
Clarke kissed him, something possessive crawling in her chest she wasn't familiar with. They pushed the covers to the floor, both too hot to stand them. Still, Clarke lay against his side, the one that wasn't bruised, one arm around him. He held her, his lips in her hair.
“Back at the bar, Octavia said she was happy for me. Said we look happy”, Bellamy said once their breathing had returned to normal. Clarke smiled and looked up at him.
“We are”, she answered. He nodded and kissed her, tightened his grip for a moment. A hug within an embrace. Clarke closed her eyes and listened to the steady beating of his heart, the only lullaby she knew. The only thing that soothed her.
It felt almost surreal to wake up the following morning, not to a nightmare, but the sun on her face. Beside her, Bellamy still slept peacefully.
_Now_
The snap of the neck prompted Clarke forward. She reached for Bellamy, touched her hand to his shoulder. He stilled, chest heaving, and looked up at her. Clarke took his bloodied hand and they walked away, not sparing a further thought to the body they left behind.
The alley returned to its slumber.
2. Innocence Died Screaming (Honey, Ask Me, I should Know)
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> A roadtrip of sorts. Wherein there is a sweaty agent, an illegal gun and an unexpected face from the past.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Title from Hozier's From Eden.
The road crossed through fields, straight as far as the eye could see. A train sped by. A man stepped out of the post office across the road. Kane stood with the motel at his back and wondered whether the car disappearing behind the trees further away was that of Bellamy and Clarke's. Probably not.
Even standing still, Kane was sweating. It was late May, the temperature was climbing each day and the air turning more humid with it. Not a cloud in the sky. Kane's dress shirt clung to his armpits and back. He would have given anything for a shower. Jaha maintained they were closer than ever to catching Bellamy and Clarke, which meant that there was no time for frivolous luxuries such as showers.
Seven weeks spent tracking the couple across state lines. Kane wasn't even sure if they had managed to find all the bodies Bellamy and Clarke left in their wake. All the victims had died close to bars, beaten to death. Kane had spent the first two weeks going over every single bar fight in Pittsburgh, trying to determine whether Bellamy had been the assailant. This far there had been no evidence that Clarke was involved. Yet she had disappeared as well. Kane could only assume she was an accomplice.
Kane stepped inside the motel and was immediately hit by a wave of cool air. The air conditioner whirred in the background and besides Jaha and the receptionist, the lobby was empty. Kane walked up to his partner, adopting a more professional stance.
With Bellamy's disappearance, Kane was pulled out of his other assignments and put on hunting duty. He had been surprised when agent Jaha volunteered to join him. Though a familiar face, Kane had never worked closely with him before. Jaha had worked as an undercover agent until his cover was blown and he was shot. After the near death experience, Jaha kept mainly to office work. The reason he wished to get back on the field was Clarke Griffin. Apparently Jaha was an old acquaintance of her mother's: their children had played together decades ago. | 5d0a706ce47b4a77b11c524db055aad0 | ['450dc26c92764fc9b51a587e03ae3658'] | “Will you listen to me now, Jackson-ah?” the man said with an amused smile. Why did he look so endeared? And how the hell did he know Jackson’s name? “Because that’s what Jinyoung-ssi called you”, the man said, and Jackson realized he was thinking out loud.
“Cool. Cool cool cool. When?”
“At the aquarium, when you started working there. I thought your graffiti was a nice addition to the monotone colours of the tank.”
If there was ever a moment in Jackson’s life when he had been close to fainting from shock, it was this one. “JB?”
“It’s Jaebum, actually, but yeah”, Jaebum said with a blinding smile. Jackson sat down, sure his knees would fail him any second now. He stared out at the ocean, trying to process _what the fuck was happening_. JB was Jaebum who was a man and an orca.
Jaebum sat down, much more elegantly than Jackson had. “I’m sorry for shocking you. I probably shouldn’t have kissed you.”
Jackson snorted a laugh. “No shit.”
“It’s just, remember when you bought me the salmon? You stroked my tongue afterwards. That was our first kiss, at least to me”, Jaebum said, and Jackson turned to stare at him.
“Well… Was I any good?”
Jaebum laughed, throwing his head back, his bare chest shaking with the force of it. “So you see, I’ve been waiting to do it like this for a long time. Now that I got the chance, I couldn’t stop myself. Sorry, again.” His expression turned bashful. Jackson had to look away.
“I am confused”, he said. “So are you an orca or a human?”
Jaebum leaned back on his arms, and his tanned torso drew Jackson’s eyes to it. Unfair, his mind supplied. Followed, once again, by what the hell.
“Both. I remember being a very short human, but also being a small orca”, Jaebum said. “I don’t really know. I asked Bambam, but he doesn’t know either.”
“Bambam? He is an orca human too?”
“Yeah. The only other one I know.” Jackson could feel Jaebum looking at him, but kept his eyes on the horizon. The sun was reflecting from the surface and the wind was picking up, making the waves grow taller. Jaebum was clearly waiting for Jackson to say something, but Jackson was sorting through his memories. He remembered running around the pool making a fool of himself as JB refused to do the tricks. He remembered telling JB that he felt trapped. Remembered JB saving him from the pool.
“Why didn’t you turn into a human and walk out of the aquarium?” Jackson asked, thinking of the drive to the shore that almost killed JB. “Why did you stay?”
“I tried to leave, believe me”, Jaebum said. “The first night they caught me I tried to transform, but couldn’t. I don’t know if it is because I wasn’t in the sea anymore, or because I was quite literally trapped, but I was trapped in the orca form as well.”
“Oh.” Jackson thought about it. “Makes sense. I guess. As if any of this makes sense.”
“You are taking it well, Jackson-ah”, Jaebum said, and bumped his shoulder against Jackson’s. “I only now realize that this must be a shock for you. For me it has been clear for a long time.” Jackson finally met Jaebum’s eyes again, and in them he saw the JB that he knew. It was just the outside that had changed.
Jackson stood up, brushed off his shorts. “I should probably get back. The others will be wondering where I went”, he said. Jaebum got up as well and untied Jackson’s jacket from his waist and handed it to Jackson. Clutching the jacket in his arms, Jackson kept his eyes on Jaebum’s face, careful not to look any lower.
“Can you come back? Tonight?” Jaebum asked.
“Yes”, Jackson said, without hesitation. He would have the day to sort his mind out, maybe come up with an explanation that made sense. And get Jaebum some clothes. “I’ll be here before sunset.” Jaebum smiled at him again, then turned to walk back into the ocean. Once the water reached his waist he dove, and when the surface next time broke it wasn’t because of a human, but the lean back of an orca. Jackson shook his head and closed his mouth before starting the walk back to the camp site.
Jackson wasn’t sure how to explain the two hours he’d been gone to the others. He found Mark and Yugyeom lying on the beach by the docks. Mark had dosed off, but Yugyeom looked up from his book when Jackson sat down.
“What’s up?”
“I took a walk”, Jackson said.
“And?”
“What do you mean ‘and’?”
“Your face looks weird”, Yugyeom said happily. Jackson threw a fistful of sand at him, but mostly managed to hit Mark, who jerked awake.
“Nice to see you too”, he said and stood up to shake his t-shirt.
“Sorry”, Jackson said and avoided looking at Yugyeom, who was laughing. “How was the exhibition?” he asked, eager to get a conversation going that wasn’t about his midday adventure.
“Interesting. Youngjae invited us to join them today; they need to tag the smaller whale that’s with JB”, Mark said.
“Bambam? Why?”
“So they can track his movements”, Yugyeom said. “Very little is known about orcas’ migration patterns”, he continued, as if reciting from a book. He grinned at Jackson. “You would know this if you hadn’t skipped out on the tour of the centre.”
Jackson had the urge to throw another fistful of sand at him, but Mark had just sat back down between them. “If you say so”, Jackson said instead. “Will it hurt?” |
762355cc46654696bd2a8c546d66e05d | ['453dd1fa019443ed9bff48c9acdaf71c'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> title is from "this town" by niall horan
Bucky sighed.
He had been standing on this balcony for hours, watching the nobles flutter around on the floor below. An orchestra in the corner was playing a slow waltz, and the dancers seemed moved as one, making an almost hypnotising effect.
At this rate, he’d be asleep before the King arrived.
“Barnes!”
Bucky turned, but slowly. The Captain of the Guard was standing in the doorway, his features arranged in an expression that Bucky took to mean disappointment, or frustration, or disgust. In other words, what he usually looked at Bucky like.
“Stand up straight,” the Captain said. “You’re on display to the best of the best in the Kingdom. At least try to look like you know what you’re doing.”
“Yes, sir,” Bucky said. When the Captain left, he scowled.
“Don’t listen to him,” Sam said on Bucky’s right. “You’re easily the best in the guard. Pierce is an idiot, honestly.”
“Already knew that,” Bucky murmured. His gaze was fixed on the floor, searching for something among the nobles.
“Looking for your man?” Sam asked conversationally.
“He’s not _my man_ ,” Bucky said.
“The Prince isn’t here yet,” Sam told him. “I’ve been looking for him for you all night.”
“You’ve been looking—”
“I’m your wingman, remember? Anyway, the Prince doesn’t even come to the balls. He hates these events.”
“He’ll be at this one,” Bucky said. “He’s not going to miss Mid-Winter.”
“Maybe,” Sam mused.
There was a slight commotion at the end of the ballroom. Bucky turned as someone entered the ballroom.
“Introducing His Majesty, King Nicholas the Third,” a squat man said, his voice echoing across the room.
Everyone bowed respectfully, and the King nodded at his subjects.
“There he is,” Sam whispered in Bucky’s ear.
“Introducing His Royal Highness, Prince Steven,” the squat man continued.
The Prince walked into the ballroom, giving a small wave. Bucky’s heart swelled, and he found himself smiling fondly.
“Aw,” Sam said. “You’re completely smitten.” He clutched his heart. “How lovely to see young love, so pure, so innocent—”
“Shut up,” Bucky said, but he was still smiling.
The Prince slipped through the crowd, making short conversation with anyone who got in his way. _Typical_ , Bucky thought. _So polite._
“Ooh, don’t go talking to her, she’ll break your heart,” Sam said in a low voice.
“Please,” Bucky said. “Natasha knows not to play around with the Prince.”
Bucky and Natasha had known each other for years — they’d grown up in the same village. Natasha was notoriously flirtatious.
“Because he’s yours, right?” Sam asked innocently.
Bucky ignored him.
“You should go down,” Sam said.
“What, down on the floor?”
“Yeah,” Sam said. He waved towards the floor. “I’ll cover for you. There doesn’t need to be two of us up here, anyway. No one’s going to attack on Mid-Winter.”
“You sure?” Bucky asked.
“‘Course,” Sam said. He put on a ridiculously high voice. “Go meet your true love!”
“Oh, shut up,” Bucky said. “But thanks.”
“Just fulfilling my duties as wingman,” Sam said, giving him a small salute.
Bucky returned it, then disappeared around the corner and down the staircase.
* * *
The ballroom was absolutely _packed._
Bucky could barely move amongst the nobles. He could hear snippets of their conversations as he passed — all pretentious debates and big words they probably didn’t understand.
“Well, hello there, Soldier,” someone said behind him.
“Hi, Natasha,” Bucky said, not turning.
“What are you doing down here then?”
Bucky didn’t answer. He stood on tip-toe, scanning the crowd.
“Oh, don’t bother answering. I know exactly why you’re here.” Bucky could practically hear Natasha’s grin. “Dear old Stevie’s here. I was talking to him.”
“Yeah, I know,” Bucky hissed. “I saw _the Prince_ come in.”
“He asked about you, you know.” Natasha put on an exaggerated deep voice, which Bucky assumed was supposed to be like a man’s. “‘Is your friend here? He seemed very nice.’”
“Did he actually say that?”
“Oh boy, you’re actually pining,” Natasha chuckled. “Yes, he did say that. Remember that festival a month ago?”
Bucky did remember the festival in question. Natasha had dragged him over to greet the Prince, and Bucky had been red throughout the entire ordeal.
“Yes,” he bit out.
“Well, obviously he remembered it,” Natasha said, waggling her manicured fingers.
“I wish he didn’t.”
“You’re missing my point,” Natasha sighed. “He remembered _you_.”
“Oh, great. He remembered my tomato face,” Bucky groaned.
“He said nothing about the tomato face,” Natasha said. “He just mentioned how _nice_ you were.”
“It was pity,” Bucky said automatically.
“Oh, you’re really in deep,” Natasha said. “Come on,” she said, grabbing his bicep and pulling him through the crowd.
“Where?” Bucky asked apprehensively.
“I’m going to help you,” Natasha said. They moved across the ballroom easily; she had the uncanny ability to part a crowd without a word.
“There he is.” Natasha pointed to a blond head in the distance. _The Prince_.
“Nat, _no_ ,” Bucky began.
“I’m not listening,” Natasha sang. She came to a stop just behind the Prince.
“Thanks, Peggy,” the Prince said to a brown-haired lady. He turned.
“Hi,” Natasha said, dipping quickly in what Bucky figured to be some kind of informal curtsey. If anyone else tried to pull that off, they would have been in trouble for improper behaviour. However, normal rules rarely applied to Natasha.
“Good evening,” the Prince said, taken aback.
Natasha gestured to Bucky. “Here’s my friend. You were asking about him,” she smirked.
The Prince’s cheeks turned pink. “I, uh, I wasn’t—”
Natasha peered over the crowd. “Sorry. Duke Stark’s calling me. Idiot. See you later,” she said. She winked at Bucky. He scowled in return. | b2ca55b38a7c4603803941015cce7e4c | ['453dd1fa019443ed9bff48c9acdaf71c'] | highest fall you'll ever grace
This is not a new story.
It has been told many times, under different names, in different places. The story of a boy who flies, who falls, and who dies. It repeats itself throughout the generations, an endless cycle of hope and tragedy.
It tells itself again on a small planet called Tatooine.
* * *
It starts with a boy with a big dream.
Anakin Skywalker dreams of becoming a pilot.
It’s an impossible dream. He’s a slave after all, and he’ll never be freed. He’s too useful. He listens to the stories the pilots tell, when they come through Watto’s shop looking for spare parts and repairs.
He listens and he remembers.
He remembers every story he hears, and he holds it to his heart so tight that it bleeds and he believes.
* * *
The boy is shown freedom.
Freedom comes to Anakin in the form of a man called Qui-Gon Jinn. The man is a Jedi, like in one of the stories the pilots tell, except now he knows that the stories are actually true.
Freedom comes at a cost: his mother. Anakin can leave his slave life behind and become a Jedi — even better than a pilot, he thinks — or he can stay on Tatooine with his mother.
Anakin Skywalker chooses freedom.
* * *
The boy flies.
It’s hard being a Jedi. Anakin is a foreigner in the vast expanse of the Temple, whispers following him wherever he goes. It doesn’t matter. Anakin gets stronger, stronger than anyone else, until the Force itself bows to his command.
He’s never alone in his endeavours. On every mission, every battle, Obi-Wan Kenobi is by his side. He grounds Anakin, helps him, never giving up on his padawan. His friend. His family? Their relationship is fraught with uncertainty, but there is one thing that Anakin is sure of: he loves Obi-Wan, no matter what form the love takes.
Anakin also loves Padmé Amidala. Their relationship is undoubtedly romantic, but that’s a secret only they keep. Their kisses are quick, stolen under moonlight. Their conversations are almost comically stiff and formal until they’re alone. Anakin is just happy he’s with the woman he loves.
* * *
The boy aims higher.
The dreams haunt him for months. It’s always the same: Padmé, dying in childbirth. It horrifies Anakin. He can’t make it stop.
He does everything he can. It’s not enough. He reaches further. The dark envelopes him.
* * *
The boy falls.
The dark pulls him down, twisting his thoughts. Every belief he has ever held — it is turned around, destroyed, mutilated beyond recognition.
He turns his back on the Jedi, pausing only to destroy them. Then he turns his back on Obi-Wan, and Padmé. He tries to kill them. He kills Padmé. He nearly kills Obi-Wan.
Before he knows it, he is falling down to a river of lava, no limbs save for his artificial hand, and then it’s pain beyond belief, his skin melting, his hair burning, his body going up in flames —
* * *
The boy dies.
It’s not a quick death for Anakin Skywalker. It takes twenty-three long years, in which he rules and tortures and is ruled and tortured, He never forgets what happened. He holds it close to his heart, his heart that is still bleeding and never stops.
His saviour comes in the form of his son who forgives him for everything. Anakin doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve anything.
Anakin’s final act is not so much an act as a message. He kills his master, and in doing so he proclaims _I am Anakin Skywalker. I have believed and flown and fallen and yet I am still here. I die a free man._
* * *
Anakin Skywalker dies, not in tragedy, but in hope.
**Author's Note:**
> I hope you enjoyed this! I had lots of fun writing this, Icarus is one of my favourite Greek myths :) Please leave kudos and maybe a comment? I love hearing from all of you! Thanks! |
ae2ebaaaae474ca2af6c814a78f1ef3b | ['4549ae79fa124ce9ac872ce29419b592'] | No Strings Attached
This is how he lives, the man with the dark pools for eyes.
He has no name. His parents once gave a name to a pink screaming baby, as clean and new as a freshly minted coin, but now he is filthy—filthy body, filthy mind, filthy soul; and a hundred years have passed in each of the 32 calendars since then; and that name is lost. He thinks he knows why the baby screamed… it was in protest at being brought into such a hateful world. No matter. His name now is his trade, and his trade is what he is.
He peddles his drug in a back alley, hiding in the shadows. His druggie disciples flock around him, fawning and pawing and mewling pathetically, no more than stray cats begging for a morsel of rotting fish. Disease-ridden and full of borrowed organs, they press their half-naked bodies against his legs, his chest, his groin. They pay however they can; always more than they can afford, never more than what they wish.
Women (and sometimes men) wrap their starving bodies around his own, thrust their tongues down his throat, steal the daylight, borrow the night, until morning. The sex is quick and clean as surgery: he parts their legs like a cool steel scalpel parting skin and muscle. For the man's body, it is brief excursion into a furnace of passion, feeling for a moment flesh against flesh, warmth, connection. But always his mind is cold and detached, somewhere above the flames. In the end, it's just a sweaty business transaction: spunk for glowing blue liquid.
He shields his face beneath a mask of paint. The eyeliner, the pale white powder, they are constants, until even he cannot tell where the mask ends and he begins.
He sleeps in a dumpster scrawled with graffiti, huddled in the ink-stained newspapers and used syringes. It's fitting: he is the world's trash, the dirt swept out of society's sight, discarded by the scalpel-happy culture.
He slips stealthily into the graveyard, among the cold impartial dead; the rotting corpses that cannot judge him his only true companions, his only peers. He is cold as they.
And this is how he lives, the man with the dark hair shot with multicolored streaks like dirty discarded ribbons.
Detached and cynical, he laughs at the world's flaws while capitalizing on them. He chose this path, chose to be reviled. He is spat upon by the respectable men and women who walk down the street with hearts and livers and spinal columns they can never afford. And inside he chuckles darkly, knowing that each of them will one day face the Repo Man, and then he'll fill another Zydrate vial from their carcass. The globe is populated with artificially beautiful people who preen and screw each other's brains out and go to the Genetic Opera every night, thinking they have forever… and just beneath their feet lie mass graves squirming with maggots. The whole world is like the scent of heady perfume, so sweet until you realize that it masks the rotten stench of decay. He cannot choose to not be a part of this new superficial world, but he'll choose his fate within its limits. He doesn't fight the system; he uses it to his own advantage. He lives and works in isolation, rather than depend upon the false connections GeneCo's world thrives on.
No strings attached.
Only suddenly, there's this girl. This girl with eyes as black as night, with skin as pale as moonlight. And for some reason he cannot fathom, when she looks at him, with eyes that are not glassy with drugs and surgery, but clear as a spring morning, and deep as the sea, he feels… like she's different.
And suddenly there are strings attached.
All sorts of them. | ce46848e3e494c71bfba9df1c7c3c8f7 | ['4549ae79fa124ce9ac872ce29419b592'] | Mr. Fox
What makes you laugh in the night, Mr. Fox
Your sharp white teeth flashing suddenly in your dark face
The whites of your black eyes glittering insanely
The sudden bark of laughter disturbing the still darkness of the house you broke into
Disturbing the elderly couple who sleep peacefully in each other's arms
As but a few feet away you shove their silver into your thief's canvas bag?
Why are you laughing?
Did, perhaps, 100 miles away
A barn spontaneously burst into flame
From a careless Marlboro dropped into the straw hours ago
Smoldering away beneath the hay
Mounting through the wood frame like a deadly disease,
The shrill blind screams of horses ringing through the crisp night air,
The sweet smell of burnt sandalwood curling up into the dark sky?
Did a good kind old man, alone in his house
Suddenly grimace, clutch at his chest and fall,
Stone dead?
Has a rational person,
For no explainable reason,
Awakened from a sound sleep
Calmly raised hands to their face
And begun to claw out their eyes
In bloody, oozing gashes?
Has a high school girl, intercepted on her way home from Drama Club
Has her pink-and-blue parka been ripped open
By the man who lurked in the woods beside the school crossing;
Or has he already dumped her naked, ravished body in the parking lot trashbin?
Or did, in some dimension we know nothing of, where sins are paid
A new soul enter Hell
Raising its voice in a high keening shriek of pain, grief, loss, inhuman longing, and regret
Screaming and screaming and screaming
Just beyond the audible spectrum?
When I hear you laugh in the night, Mr. Fox
With your brown velvet skin so soft
I cannot help but wonder which it was.
And, as I lay awake in the blackness,
Afterward,
Fruitlessly seeking the Kingdom of Dreams
As I listen to noises that could be a murderer,
Or an owl,
I hide my head beneath the pillow
And press the fabric against my ears,
Trying to block out the screams
Echoing in my brain.
**Author's Note:**
> _Written approx. 2000 - 2004 (?)_
>
> The story behind this poem is as interesting as the poem itself, at least in my opinion, so I'm going to share it:
>
> Back in 2009 or so, I was going through a box of old stuff I found in my father's basement. I found happy memories, sad ones, and bittersweet ones. I also found an old math notebook of mine... judging by the contents, it's from somewhere between 7th and 9th grade.
>
> In the back I found a deeply disturbing section. This poem was sandwiched between sketches of a girl who looks like Samara from _The Ring_ , with her long black hair obscuring her face, and words like _Love_ and _Happiness_ crossed out repeatedly in angry black scratches.
>
> I don't remember writing this AT ALL, any more than I recall drawing those scary images, but it's all in my handwriting, and I Googled the first line with no results... it seems to be mine. Besides, though I don't remember writing it, I know what inspired it: my favourite poem, "The White Road" by Neil Gaiman, a long, darkly gorgeous free-form poem, very gory, whose narrator is referred to only as "Mr. Fox;" and Aaron, the villain from William Shakespeare's _Titus Andronicus._ I think this is about Aaron, as told in the style of "The White Road."
>
> I love the poem, but that section buried deep in the back of my math notebook continues to bother me... and the fact that I have no recollection of creating it, that I seem to have simply blocked it out, is somehow terrifying.
>
> It's occurred to me that I may have simply been trying to scare the person sitting next to me, hoping out of sheer boredom to freak them out (at least with the scary drawings; the poem feels genuine)... in which case, I had no idea how lucky I was that my plan failed. I could have been taken to the school counselor, or even expelled.
>
> But part of me worries, as I think it always will, that my mind is like that notebook... that somewhere, hidden in the back, there is something dark and haunting and insane... something just waiting for some unwitting person to find it, innocently blow the dust off... and set it loose.
>
> All I can say for sure is, math always brings out the worst in me. |
6b4b8a5c798e45c9809cedbb3fdb8841 | ['456af1f6450f4d93a7be7bcd17c76b4a'] | Once again, Derek rewinds the video to where the man stares straight at him, and he jerks off quickly, leaving another trail of sticky come on his stomach.
He’s so, _so_ fucked.
\---
Derek rewatches those videos often over the next week, a bit too often, actually. He doesn’t want to be obsessed with this amateur pornstar, this young man who could live anywhere in the world. Hell, he might never upload again, and then Derek’s just the sad creep wacking it to the same two videos for the rest of his life.
He clicks the profile link again, and stupidly, only now notices the description.
“I post more pictures and gifs on my tumblr! Come check me out ;)”
**Website:** xxxmischiefmanaged.tumblr.com
**Name:** Michael
**Gender:** Guy
**Age:** 20
**Last login:** 7 hours ago
**Relationship Status:** Single
**Interested In:** Both
**City:** Somewhere in
**Country:** United States
Derek doesn’t know where to start. He can stop referring to him as mischiefmanaged now in his head at least, though the name Michael doesn’t really seem to suit him. Not that he’s obliged to share his real name of course. Derek’s only four years older than him, which pleasantly surprises him, even though age shouldn’t really matter when everybody’s legal. He’s more excited about finding out Michael is single, and the other guy in his video isn’t his boyfriend. Not that Derek now has a shot with him, or anything. Shut up.
He realizes he’s missing out on more of Michael’s content, and he quickly creates a new email account so he can make a second tumblr. His first, official tumblr is supposed to be for writing only, where he shares tips and tricks, and announces his new projects. He knows enough about tumblr’s programming to know even if he makes a second blog on that account, his main blog will show up in people’s notes.
He spends longer than he would like on creating the second account, but while he’s at it, he follows a bunch of aesthetics and porn blogs he wouldn’t be able to follow otherwise. Satisfied that his blog doesn’t look like a bot, he finally types in Michael’s blog.
He’s surprised to find the first couple posts are asks, and Michael seems to love interacting with people on here.
* * *
**anonymous asked:** ‘i love ur videos so much, ur so cute!! when are u uploading a new one?’
hi! thanks so much! since my previous videos did so well, i bought myself a little toy (and when i say ‘little’ i mean HUGE) so i’m gonna play with that this week ;) i’ll post pictures and hopefully a video in a few days!
* * *
**anonymous asked:** ‘So you’re gay right’
nope! i’ve answered this question a few times before, but i’m 100% bisexual (not everyone who likes something up their butt is gay, you know. maybe give it a try ;) you might like it!)
* * *
**anonymous asked** : ‘ur so hot’
thank you <3 i’m sure you are too!
* * *
**anonymous asked: ‘** how do u deal with body image? as a plus-size cis woman, i struggle feeling sexy a lot, and you always look so beautiful and owning it. any tips?’
first of all, i’m sure you’re absolutely stunning. (i’m not just saying that)
i have to tell you though, i don’t always feel good about myself either, i don’t think many people do… when it comes down to it, there’s not much i can do, this is the body i have and i really don’t feel like changing anything about it if it’s just gonna cause me grief. so please know, you don’t _have_ to change anything about your body if you don’t _want_ to, and you don’t have to change to feel sexy. somebody else might come along and think you’re the hottest shit around, and that will do wonders for your self esteem! (i also think it’s a common misconception that you have to love yourself before you can love somebody else, because sometimes you need that outside perspective before you can realize you’re a beautiful queen)
sorry for going on a little rant but i hope i managed to help somehow <3
* * *
The next post down has a few pictures, and Derek likes the post instantly. Michael is lying on his stomach on the bed, wearing his long socks and a pair of red, cotton panties. It looks like he took the picture from above his own head, fitting his entire body into frame, one leg folded in the air. The next picture is from the same angle, except this time, Derek sees Michael’s gloved hand pulling the panties into his crack, showing off a single buttcheek. In the next shot, the cheek has a big red mark on it, like it has been spanked repeatedly. The post ends with a gif of Michael spanking himself, and Derek appreciates how the gif restarts seamlessly, making it an endless loop of Michael slapping his own round ass.
The post below is a single photo of Michael’s lean frame in the shower, water running down his front, all over his soaked white panties. It’s the first look Derek has gotten of Michael’s dick, and he’s a little surprised to see how big it actually is. He feels dumb for assuming it wouldn’t be, and now he’s stuck thinking of wrapping his own lips around it, of joining him in the shower and ripping those panties off of him before rimming him until he cries.
The next post is his fingering video, and Derek isn’t strong enough not to jerk off again before he falls asleep.
\--- | a1f00f03dcb54e80ad9ed7e45ab27b7e | ['456af1f6450f4d93a7be7bcd17c76b4a'] | They end up buying one of everything, since Stiles couldn’t make his mind up, and Derek carries it all back to the car while Stiles loudly admires his muscles. When the movie starts, Derek and Stiles sit down on the hood of the Jeep and lean back against the windshield before eventually scooting down to lie stretched out. Derek doesn’t know the movie, and it’s not really keeping his interest the way Stiles is next to him, sucking the butter from his fingers and releasing them with a filthy noise.
“Stop it,” Derek whispers and pretends to watch the movie on the big screen.
“Huh?”
“This is supposed to be a family-friendly zone, Stiles.” Derek can’t stop the grin from appearing on his face.
Stiles huffs. “Well, you’re the one with the dirty mind here, I’m just enjoying my popcorn.”
Right after he says it, though, he sticks his finger in his mouth, deeper than necessary. He pulls it out until he’s just sucking on his fingertip, then slides his finger back in.
“Hmm,” Stiles moans and releases the finger. “Popcorn.”
“You’re a little shit.” Derek groans and tries to adjust himself without anyone around noticing.
“Do you want some?” Stiles hold the popcorn out to him and Derek grabs a handful and scarfs it down. “Oh no, looks like your hands are dirty.”
“Stiles-”
“Let me get that for you.” Stiles flutters his lashes before sucking on Derek’s finger, licking around it and releasing soft moans that Derek can feel vibrate on his skin.
Someone clears their throat behind Derek and they both scramble to sit up right.
“Excuse me, uh, sirs, but we at Beacon Drive-In would like to remind you that this is an all-ages zone, and please could you keep the, uh, PDA to a minimum. Please.” The nervous teenager relays the scripted words and clears his throat again.
“Right, sorry,” Stiles says, voice pitched high. “Understood.”
The teen nods gratefully and leaves them to it. Derek looks over and snickers at Stiles’ expression. “Very smooth.”
“Shut your face.”
“Or what?”
Stiles doesn’t waste any words and pulls Derek back down to kiss him into submission.
It’s a mere ten minutes later when Nervous Teen is shining a flashlight in their faces. Stiles stops sucking on Derek’s tongue long enough to say, “Alright, alright, we’re leaving.”
Nervous Teen sighs in relief, he probably expected more of an argument. “Have a nice night, gentlemen.”
Stiles smirks as he walks over to the driving seat and shoots him a wink. “Thanks, man.”
They end up parking in the preserve and taking the blankets back out to lay down on the hood and watch the stars. Well… They make out a lot, and in between kissing and rubbing up against each other, they occasionally watch the stars.
\---
**u left ur sweater in my car but im keeping it, this is just a courtesy text**
_Thanks for letting me know_
**it’s really comfy and big**
**like u**
_I can’t tell if that was meant sexually or not_
**it wasn’t, but now that u mention it**
**i wanna touch ur dick derek**
_That’s_
_Wow_
_Okay_
**amazing**
**are u actually speechless bc i brought up ur dick**
_Maybe_
**it’s a very nice dick**
_You haven’t seen it_
**i’ve felt it**
**and it feels really nice**
_Are we sexting_
_Is that what this is_
**not yet**
**do u want to**
_But we could call_
_Or I could come over_
**my dad’s home and i don’t trust our wall thickness**
_What about calling then_
**we could try that too**
**tbh i wanna try texting first just to see how it goes**
**idk what i might say when i get really pent up**
_Okay_
_So how does this work then_
**are u home?**
_Yes_
**alone?**
_Yes_
**naked?**
_Not yet_
_Are you?_
**no**
**im wearing ur sweater**
**and nothing else**
_Fuck_
**what are u wearing?**
_Sweatpants_
**which ones**
_Light grey, pretty old_
**ooh i like those**
_Why?_
**they’re a lot thinner than u think**
**that’s how i learned that u don’t wear underwear**
**u aren’t wearing any right now, are u**
_No, I’m not_
**good**
**easy access**
_What are you doing right now_
**slowly stroking my cock**
**don’t want this to be over too quick**
_Jesus, Stiles_
**have u ever thought about me? when u jacked off?**
_Yes_
**what was i doing**
_You were sucking me off_
**do u like my mouth**
_You know I do_
_I like a lot of things about you_
**like what**
**indulge me, derek**
_I like your lips_
_The way you take control of a kiss_
_I like your moles_
_I want to map them out with my tongue_
**fuck, go on**
_I like your ass, and the way it fits into my hands_
_Like it belongs there_
**god, my ass is nothing compared to yours**
**i could bounce a coin off that thing**
_Why do I feel like you’re gonna test that theory_
**bc i will**
**keep up derek**
_You’re making me laugh while I’m jerking off_
**since when is laughter not sexy**
**fine, if it helps, think about me sucking your cock again**
_Yep, that works_
**i wanna try that out too**
_I’d love that_
_Obviously_
**will u suck me off too?**
_Of course I will_
_You have no idea how badly I want to_
**what else do u want to do**
_Do you really want to know?_
**… yes derek**
**why do i feel like this is gonna get real juicy**
_I want to push you up against the wall and wrap your legs around my waist_
_I want you to feel me and whimper_
_I want you to cry out my name as I stretch you out with my fingers_
_And I want you to scream even harder as I push into you for the first time_
**fuck**
_I want to throw you on the bed on your hands and knees_ |
51ca33436d564cdf8d661241dfe0ae64 | ['4570e8bac1774513880dff1064f29c29'] | He had commissioned them from an Eastern European country with a hard to pronounce name. I was told what it was called several times but I could never really commit it to memory. What I did remember was that it had almost half the wealth of the Kremlin but none of its ambition.
Whatever company or group of individuals it was that constructed those puppets did it on the cheap. Maybe that’s why Freddy didn’t look nearly as polished as the other two. They had trouble getting his look down, according to the owner. His color was all off, a musky sort of yellow that could deceivingly look like gold under poor lighting. But he was able to perform just fine and stood in front of Bonnie and Chica with a wide, gaping grin.
I remember watching them in a kind of dazed stupor over the following months as they “debuted.” They’d play a couple of songs every half hour or so and then fall back into a lifeless state. Until they were given the ability to walk.
The company or group of individuals that had constructed them had next sent over devices that they had been working on. The servos, when installed, let them move their legs in slow and robotic motions. They’d be able to walk off the stage when they weren’t playing their songs, free to mingle with (mostly) enthusiastic patrons.
The devices weren’t the only thing sent over that time, however. There was also a new animatronic.
3. Part III
The animatronics were designed with the servos technology in mind.
It was to enable them to move their joints in a pattern that befit their performances.
Bonnie would click his fingers against his guitar in a clunky motion. Occasionally the audio track had Freddy calling for the rabbit to “take it away”, leading him to pantomime a guitar solo.
It was truly surreal to watch, but no less entertaining for the kids.
They’d cheer out every time Bonnie began his solos, sometimes joining him on stage to play air guitar alongside him.
Chica got an equally warm reception as the kids would sing along with her. Her vocal track would urge kids to clap their hands, repeat phrases and the like.
And of course she’d incorporate that cupcake into her performance. Her robotic wing would rise in a stiff motion as she twirled around her frosted friend.
These motions of theirs required little to no effort on our part.
The servos installed within them had already been set as far as basic behavioral patterns go, and it required no tweaking.
It was Freddy that gave us a bit of trouble. Not only was his color scheme totally off, his movements were slightly stunted as well.
The other animatronics didn’t require nearly as much maintenance as him.
And when I say maintenance, I mean basic, rudimentary stuff like applying oil and lube and ensuring that their outside screws and bolts were secure.
We never got the chance to actually look inside a bot and tinker with its inner workings.
Until we got the second shipment.
That Eastern European based company or group of individuals had been tinkering with the servos technology for some time.
When they sent over Bonnie, Chica, and Freddy, the technology was still in its conceptual stages. However it was functional to the point where it could do what the owner wanted - allowing the bots to perform.
After about a year, it had been advanced to the point of giving the bots the ability to walk around.
When it was sent over it also came with a disassembled fourth animatronic.
The fourth animatronic, Foxy, was who the company had been primarily testing the technology on. He was the first to be given the ability to walk.
But there were problems.
His movements were too fast at times, and despite all the tinkering his creators had done, they could not find a way to adequately adjust his behavior.
That was why he had come in the way he did. We were told to reassemble him at our own risk since he could potentially pose a hazard to patrons.
The owner ignored the warning, brushing it off as “third world ignorance and superstition.” According to him, what we had was something amazing and it would be a shame not to put it to its full use. It wouldn’t have been fair to our patrons. And besides, the kids could use another best friend (whose merchandise their parents could spend lots of money on.)
The other animatronics were also installed with new servos, a task I had completed by disassembling them in order to fit the devices in.
Inside of them were complex mechanical endoskeletons with some rather sharp bits and pieces. I had to carefully move my arm around as I worked so as not to get pricked.
As I then sat back and watched them over the next few months I was certainly in awe.
It made me wonder about the war again.
It made me wonder if technology like this had existed at the time…..
And then the realization that it was a technology being developed by a country that had no political ties to our own jolted me back to the present.
I began to contemplate just what could be done if those developing it had the wrong intentions.
I guess thinking about all that was the main reason I decided that I wanted to learn more.
They set Foxy up in his own exhibition - Pirate Cove.
He was the captain of his own ship, a slender animatronic set into the wall with long lashed eyes and full, red lips.
His ship would sometimes sing along with the crew, tiny animatronics designed in the shape of otters, badgers and the like.
Their designs were quite creative, if not a tad unusual. | 87313ded12334cc79d2c97e04d1f7bec | ['4570e8bac1774513880dff1064f29c29'] | The band’s singer and leader, Freddy Fazbear, was named after the restaurant (or was it the other way around?) and as such, was the star of the show. The people playing him were instructed to wait to come out as him during the course of the day. Bonnie and Chica would get the kids warmed up, and when Freddy came out on to the floor they’d all go wild. The kids loved him and would buy anything with his face on it. It was a lucrative business plan for those involved. The restaurant would sell t-shirts, mugs, party hats and favors, and just about anything else they could stamp Freddy and his friends onto. Merchandise with Freddy on it would sell best, of course. After a while the restaurant stopped pushing products exclusively featuring Bonnie and Chica and focused primarily on Freddy.
But where do I fit into all of this?
I was working there briefly as a security guard on particularly busy nights.
The state had a mandate that said something about how businesses in certain “bad” parts of town needed to hire professional services in order to keep patrons safe.
I wouldn’t go so far as to say that the part of town the restaurant was in was “bad”, by any means. There were just a few low income housing projects located not too far from it and the occasional bouts of gang like activity (really though, graffiti spraying was the worst of it.)
Anyways – I was working as a security guard, keeping tabs on what was going on through security cameras and occasional perimeter walks when the owner approached me.
He was a heavy set man, possibly nearing his fifties, with a doughy face and a thick, black mustache set underneath a beak shaped nose. His eyes were set far back into his head and there were dark circles around his eyelids. A top his head was a thinning mop of coarse black hair. Obviously his appearance didn’t do him any favors during my first impression.
I had expected someone strange and creepy who might possibly have been a pedophile.
Couldn’t have been farther from the truth.
The man may have looked like a mortician and shuffled about as if he was on his way to embalm a corpse, but that’s not who he was.
He smiled a lot and would laugh in a high pitched, dolphin like tone.
He said he was honored to meet me, humbled by my sacrifice and duty to our country. He wanted to offer me a job. Said that the budget was tight and renting out security guards from an outside firm was getting rather expensive.
(I would learn later that the firm I worked for would shake him for more and more money with each subsequent interaction. It was easy since the guy seemed like such a push over, according to my boss).
I was to be the sole security personnel he’d hire, overseeing all manners of security and the safety of the place’s patrons. The pay was going to be significantly higher than what I would have made if I stayed with the firm (since they took a percentage out of every job I got paid for).
And so, in ’83 I found myself working for Freddy’s Fazbear’s Pizza. And for a time it seemed like things were going well. The pay was good, the clientele generally easy to deal with, and the owner respected me and allotted me a lot of freedom with how I conducted my responsibilities. But then they brought in the animatronics.
And that’s when I started seeing a whole other level of pretty crazy shit.
2. Part II
It astonishes me how well I remember that day.
Guess memories have a way like that. You’re able to note all the tiny details of an event that affects you deeply.
I remember it being fairly cloudy. And windy. It was late into February and Winter was just starting to slow down. Normally it wouldn’t be so cold that you’d have to wear a sweater outside but that day was different.
There was something about the wind, how it almost felt like it was biting down on you and raking its thin, long fingers across your face.
I remember that it was only about a week earlier that I had finally moved into my own place. It was a second floor apartment with a busted heating system that I couldn’t afford to have looked at at the time.
My father had died just a short while ago and I was spending most of my paychecks looking after my mother. She was always urging me to move back into the family home. Said the place felt odd without anyone else. Said she was having these strange dreams.
I set out for the restaurant early that day. I suppose I should mention that we didn’t have an overnight shift at the time.
Not yet.
I stepped in through the front doors, solid wood painted a deep red. The owner was sitting at this high chair, set at the front desk, wiping his brow with a handkerchief. His hair was disheveled and matted with sweat. He smiled weakly at me when I entered and led me back to the party hall.
There had been construction going on to build a stage in the back of it and I could see now that it was complete. But that wasn’t the first thing I noticed. Not by a long shot. Because in the center of the stage stood the animatronics, poised as if ready to perform.
The owner had made a big deal about how they were coming in today. It was the reason why I had come early, to help get them set up. And apparently I didn’t need to since they had come assembled when the owner opened up the crates they were delivered in. |
bf05cc8df5e84620ac26efe1815ca8d5 | ['45870d17b13f47ee95abd7fb46eb162e'] | After Jungkook was released from the hospital a week later, his hyungs were in super overprotective mode. He couldn’t even cough without the older guys freaking out.
Although they were very protective, he was not arguing with the fact that they were extremely attentive. He got all the cuddles he wanted, he was coddled, and he was hugged a lot.
Exhibit A, right now.
Hobi was wrapped around Jungkook as he laid on the couch while both of them were playing a game. They had been cuddling for the last two hours ago. So, Jungkook got up to go get something to drink.
He barely even got into the fridge before he was being back hugged and playful kisses were dropped on his neck.
Jungkook squealed and tried to get away but to no avail.
“Taehyung!” He laughed and tried to turn around to face his hyung.
“Jungkookie!” The male laughed as lifted the Little up.
“Hyungie loves you!” He said in a baby voice, knowing that saying it like that would more than likely drive Jungkook into Little space.
Jungkook felt the air be knocked out of him and his pupils slightly dilated.
“Is Baby out to play?” He asked gently, back hugging the little gently.
Jungkook whined and turned around and wrapped his arms around the elder.
“TaeTae!”
“Hi gorgeous!” TaeTae said goofily. Jungkook was released and he looked down at his clothes in disdain.
“Don’t wike.”
“You wanna change sweetheart?”
“Mhmmm.”
“Alright, let’s go. Follow TaeTae-hyung.” TaeTae said as he gripped Jungkook’s hand and walked them to Jungkook’s room. He moved the Little so he would sit on the bed before TaeTae went to the closet. After rummaging for a few moments, he asked the Little a question.
“Color?”
“Ooooooh. Pink. OH! Blue! Can I has both?” Jungkook’s high voice asked, giddy with the thought of having both.
“How about pink and white?” TaeTae asked, not seeing anything blue.
“But I want blue!”
“No shouting, Jungkook. You know you don’t yell at me.” TaeTae said, poking his head around the corner.
“But blueeeee!”
TaeTae gave him a look and crossed his arms, turning back around to look at the Little.
“I’m sowwy!” Jungkook whined, tears welling up at the thought of hurting his TaeTae.
“It’s okay baby, just don’t do it again.” TaeTae said, turning back to the closet and pulling out a pair of pink shorts and a white sweatshirt with some writing on it in black.
TaeTae walked back over to the Little and gestured for the him to hold his arms up. TaeTae pulled Jungkook’s white shirt off of him and replaced it with the white sweatshirt that said ‘Daddy’s’ wrote on it. He then pushed Jungkook to lay back and replaced his sweatpants with the shorts.
Jungkook didn’t rush to get up, instead he made grabby hands at TaeTae and whined to be picked up.
“You’re demanding today.” TaeTae said, laughing before he picked the younger up and carried him like a toddler.
Jungkook laid his head on TaeTae’s shoulder but whined right as they left the room.
“What now?”
Jungkook looked at him and opened his mouth.
“You thought I forgot?” TaeTae asked, pulling one out of his pocket. It was bright blue with glitter.
Jungkook squealed loudly and gestured for it to be placed in his mouth.
“Pwease?”
TaeTae giggled and placed it in his mouth and brought both of them into the living room. Jungkook immediately reached for Seokie.
“SEOKIE!!”
Seokie jumped and looked at the Little.
“Jungkookie!” He said in his aegyo voice.
Jungkook squealed and reached for him. Seokie gladly accepted the Little’s embrace.
For the next hours, Jungkook and Seokie cuddled and played with Jungkook’s stuffed animals.
Soon enough, the door opened and Daddy and Dada came in and Jungkook immediately shot up from the floor, a teddy bear in his hand.
“’addy!” Jungkook shouted, running full force into him, bringing the elder down on the floor.
Daddy groaned and wrapped his arms around the Little.
“Hi, baby boy. I see you’re having fun?” Jungkook hummed and hopped up, immediately turning his attention to his Dada.
“Dada!” He yelled, running into his embrace although this time he didn’t knock the man down.
“Hi, sweetheart. How are you?”
Jungkook mumbled something against Dada’s neck before he went back to the floor and started playing and talking with his stuffed animals once again.
He barely noticed the pair sitting beside him as Seokie got up to get them all something to drink. A hand started rubbing his back and Jungkook hummed in bliss.
Daddy started to join in on Jungkook’s play time, making animated noises for them and talking for them as well in a funny voice. Dada started making fun of him in Jungkook’s ear, making the Little laugh violently and shake all over.
Time passed really quickly and soon enough, Joonie and JinJin were home and started on making dinner. Jungkook was forced away from his toys, which he whined about, and was forced to go take a bath and change into other clothes. This time, he was dressed in a light grey shirt that was two sizes too big, and a pair of purple shorts. He still had his pacifier though.
“Baby, we need your pacifier and you have got to eat something.” Dada said, reaching over gently to grab the pacifier. Jungkook whined and held onto it.
“Sweetheart, you can have it back after you eat, you gotta have something in your tummy, okay?” Dada said, trying to plead with him so Jungkook wouldn’t throw a fit and be in a bad mood.
“B-b-but…” Jungkook said, mumbling with a tear welling up. | c64ddbb4f3f445b89a5a88c2c58f1287 | ['45870d17b13f47ee95abd7fb46eb162e'] | Shrugging, he made his way back to the table just as his phone was ringing. He squinted at the words on the caller ID and made out the word Yoongi and smiled. He gestured to people at the table that he was going to take the call and stepped into the bathroom before he answered it.
“Hullo.” Jungkook said dismissively.
“Hi Jungkook, we were just calling to check up on you.” Yoongi said and it was clear he was on speaker phone, seeing as everything could be heard.
“You said you were out with friends, yeah? Who exactly?” Taehyung’s voice came over the line.
“Jackson, Jaebum, Jinyoung, Baek-Baekhyun, and Seungcheollie.” He said, only stuttering on one word, but he hiccupped at the end and then started laughing at himself.
“You okay Jungkook?” Namjoon’s voice came over the phone.
“Peachy!” He said, continuously laughing now. He let out a breath of air and grinned to himself.
“Huh. I need another shot.” Jungkook said, staring at himself seriously in the mirror.
“Shot? Are you getting drunk right now, Jeon Jungkook?” Jimin’s ‘daddy’ voice came on over the line.
“Nooooo!” Jungkook giggled at the end of the sentence, moussing up his hair once again just as someone knocked on the bathroom and called out to him.
“Jungkook, we got another round of shots, better hurry or Jackson’s going to take them instead.” Baekhyun shouted to him and Jungkook internally winced.
“Really, sounds like taking shots is getting drunk.” Yoongi said with a stern voice. Jungkook mocked him, what he thought was under his breath but was really out loud. The line was silent and Jungkook took it as his turn to say something.
“I’m of age, I’m allowed to dr-drink and have fun! If you don’t like it, boo-hoo, cry me a river. I’m of age! Aish, I got to go.” Jungkook doesn’t know where his confidence came from but it quickly threw the words from his mouth.
“Don’t you dare hang up on us Jungkook!” Hoseok’s voice came over the line just as Jungkook hung up on them.
Jungkook swayed dangerously before he exited the bathroom. He barely made it back to table where he took one final shot and then sat down heavily and closed his eyes. His head was pounding with the beat of the bass and the alcohol swimming in his blood. He barely even registered he was moving until he exited the club with Seungcheol on his left and Jaebum on his right, who were making sure he stayed up right. They got in the car with Jaebum driving this time and Jungkook started to lose track of time. One minute they were travelling down a road and the next he was being walked up some stairs.
He groaned and leaned his head on the shoulder of the person who was carrying him. They laughed at him and cooed at his affection self. He was laid on a bed and someone laid beside him. His head had finally started to clear up when he realized that Seungcheol was lying beside him.
Jungkook has no clue where the thought or action came from but suddenly, he was straddling Seungcheol and looking down at him. Seungcheol looked up at him with hooded eyes and his mouth was open a little bit. They made eye contact and Jungkook isn’t sure who moved first, him or Seungcheol, but their lips connected and it made his nerves become alive.
They moved their lips messily together, not even caring about how good it was, and then Jungkook proceeded to pass out on top of the man.
* * *
Waking up was not a fun experience for Jungkook, seeing as his head was busting, he was overly warm, and the light was shining in his poor eyes. He groaned big time, trying to curl away from the warmth when he was tugged back into an embrace. His eyes opened wide and he looked behind him, only to see Seungcheol and then he looked down and let out a breath of relief to know that his clothes were still on. He wiggled out of the embrace and smacked his lips together, wiping the drool off of his chin. He tripped over the clothes and shoes on the floor and sat down beside the door, using Seungcheol’s charger to charge his phone.
He powered it on, only to see he had over 50 text messages on KKT, 10 voicemails, and 42 missed calls.
_Shit._ Jungkook thought as he swallowed harshly. _I’m in big trouble._
He got onto KKT and scrolled through the messages.
> _lazy ass_
**_\- I can’t believe you just hung up on us._ **
**_\- what is running through your mind, huh?_ **
**_\- Are you just being rebellious or something?_ **
**_\- you’re in so much trouble_ **
_ >vhyung _
**_\- oi lil bit_ **
**_\- your ass is gonna be lit_ **
**_\- if the way Yoongi-hyung is acting is something, as well as jimin-hyung I’ve never seen him this fired up before._ **
**_\- I’d answer if I was you._ **
_ >joon monster _
**_\- im usually the one to encourage mischevious behavior_ **
**_\- but this is too much jungkook_ **
**_\- you know we don’t like you drinking without one of us around_ **
_ >handsome jinnie _
**_\- wow_ **
**_\- you are a little brat_ **
**_\- wow_ **
**_\- I have no words for you_ **
_ >hobihobi _
**_\- im not even going to start with you_ **
**_\- im so disappointed in you_ **
_ >jiminie _
**_\- I can’t believe your nerve_ **
**_\- to hang up on us, your hyungs, when we just care about you_ **
**_\- you really want to be like that_ **
**_\- come to my room first when you get home_ **
**_\- we’re going to talk for a bit_ ** |
c2be1b9028084515a64f422df160cfc4 | ['45904078527b4a748293732aee6ce7f7'] | Robo using his willpower forced his hand off his metal girth, was trying to pull out his auto-9 which he=held in his right hand. He let out a shuddering gasp as his orgasm hit making him drop the large gun, the harder he had resisted the more the stimulation forced itself. His visor again flicked with static as 'first climax reached' flashed over and over. The secretary had now moved beside the cyborg who was now on his palms, sitting back on the floor. She picked up the gun putting it on Jones's desk. Being bold she moved over to the helpless groaning cyborg and leaned over kissing him deeply, her hot red lips met his cold ones surprised by him actually kissing back, the effect still working on him that got him hot in the first place. She looked to him lustfully as her hand had reached down already to touch and grab onto the metal cock. She stroked the metal girth as much as she could getting into it, she continued to kiss Robo's lips then lick at them, at times licking his chin strap, his neck. At times she'd lick at the massive metal pecs of his chest. Their time however would cut short as Jones had other plans.
"I'd like you to meet a friend of mine.." Loud thuds hit the floor as the humming of the ED unit stepped into view.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Yes so directive 4 here = robocock and horniness. Forgive me. I always thought Robocop's moans there was more than pain, they always seemed sexual to me. Especially with his body movements, his really sexy body movements. Mmm.
2. Meet my friend ED
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> ED-209X sees Robo and likes what he sees
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Robocop and other characters are not mine, belong to Orion and so on.
The silver cyborg was now on his back completely weakened by the directive he had no idea lurked within his programming just for this time. His vision was scrambling with green lines as he tried to move weakly. He staggered leaning on one arm, his mechanical joints whining while he was more than vulnerable. He was uncontrollably aroused and his near foot long matching cock was enough evidence of that. His thick metal form moved, the jet black metal cock swayed between the sleek metal sculpted thighs.
"Maybe you'd like to meet a friend of mine"
Dick clicked the remote happily as there was a heavy hum and then loud thuds that nearly shook the floor. The behemoth of metal had entered the doorway that Jones had opened, it walked into view as it then set it's sights on the helpless weakened cyborg.
"I Had to kill Bob Morton because he made a mistake..now I have to erase that mistake."
Robocop tried to move his body with urgency barely shaking off the weakening hold the directive had on him yet still felt his cock still hardened as the rest of his metal body. The sight of ed had him actually fearful for once in his new cyborg being. Robo had moved his body slowly to his feet, while doing so he was still crouched over, his shining sculpted ass between the silver thighs catching the monstrous enforcement droid's attention as it shifted with the rest of Robo's sleek body. That is before Robo had turned around weakened, dazed he tried to back up. ED-209X (special model) had let out a ferocious growl through it's audible speakers before it targeted Robocop and opened fire with it's heavy weapons.
Robocop flew back through the glass door landing completely on his back, his sleek armored chest and arms and midsection now considerably dented and damaged by the strong gunfire. Robocop tried to quickly get up, immense pain filled him for a while overcoming the urges of directive 4. His upper body filled with smoke from the damage, he tried to make it onto one slightly unstable, his entire balance seemed to be thrown off by such a hit. It was too late as ED quickly approached Robo and swung his heavy gun arm upward knocking Robocop completely up into the air and through another glass pane. Robocop weakly tried to recover though it felt like the hit had left him dazed, his visor filled now with static as he tried to recover again to move.
The monstrous droid's steps had gotten closer and closer as Robo's audios still did work for now. Weakly trying to move his limbs he found himself far too slow to move as the beast that was unleashed by Jones was already above him, pointing the barrel of one of his gun limbs right at his visor growling. However he had stopped that moment, the mechanical limbs humming as the large cannon moved down as if ED was looking or tracing down the cyborg policeman's damaged body. Robo froze in fear as one human eye peeked out of the visor, unsure of what was happening. ED's audios did hear the light small whining of something on Robo's body, the ribbed metal cock was actually jutting upward at this moment much to Murphy's dismay his body had turned against him. | 6b8b949b5c76427db36aa0edb935a4fd | ['45904078527b4a748293732aee6ce7f7'] | Urges
**Author's Note:**
> I don't own tmnt nor DC characters nor injustice 2 properties etc etc.
It almost began immediately entering this new earth.
He tried to figure out if it was any sort of side effect from this new earth, but couldn't find anything. It was solely on himself. He felt ashamed but eventually the one thing he was fearing was feeling less shame and more eagerness. It turned from brief very split second glimpses at Supergirl's legs...then Harley's cleavage. Now he was finding himself staring longingly at the tight fitting leather material on catwoman's ass while she conversed with one of the other superheroes. He couldn't help himself, females back on earth he hardly saw much of outside tv or magazines. He was lucky to see April wearing anything other than pants. Now he found himself meeting with super heroines who wore things he may have only seen in his brother's comic books. It was upsetting in a way cause now it just flooded his thoughts day in and out.
Really he never paid too much focus on these urges back at home. He didn't think about the little details of females bodies, finding himself favoring a certain size of breasts or a female's thighs and just how perfect they could be. His own tastes grew more and more. He knew it was becoming full on lust. But it was something he had to control , trying his damnedest to not let anyone catch his brief views, or if there was anyone that had that power...to read his innermost thoughts.
Donnie worked on just various ways to opt out of things with his brothers and find a way to stick around the female heroes. His eyes never left the blonde female's body, the one they called Canary. The way her perfect physical body moved during her training sessions were incredible, hypnotic. He could only watch for so long before he felt a deep stirring in his lower shell, his most intimate parts awakening with arousal and needing attention. Finally getting himself logged into their system he borrowed a laptop from the heroes and logged in to 'study' the villains of this earth. Although for the purple clad turtle it always came back to the females. The cheetah, poison ivy, Enchantress, he went over the footage ,stills, photos. It was like he lost all inhibitions as he eagerly clicked from one photo to the next, not stopping til he was rock hard. He was a changed turtle.
"Donatello"
His eyes blinked his mind snapping out of a daydream or..
"Donnie"
"Yes, yes. I'm sorry Canary.."
"It's fine it's Dinah." She smiled, her full lips was something he noted immediately.
"Just tell Raphael if you see him I'm ready for another sparring session I need him to hold the bag for me again.."
"Sure yeah.."
That had caught him a little off guard, he stood up to move to a quieter room, where he could look up some files on the laptop he was using. Lust be damned, he still had the intellect to not let anyone see his activity nor trace what files he kept researching...over and over the last few days.
He had things set up pretty quietly, he was almost with a frustrated need for release right now , more than ready for activity until he heard the door slide open, turning around the turtle didn't expect to see the black clad female cat burglar at the doorway.
"Don.."
"Donatello"
"Right" She smiled. She was beautiful, like that of a model. Definitely noted her beauty as well as the other females. Catwoman however was he considered the most beautiful looking.
"I was just wondering if you had .."
"..Y-yeah. I mean sorry to cut you off I just forgot to give it to you earlier.." Donnie scrambled to his feet searching around , now he was fighting off the tingling sensation of arousal that had plagued him moments earlier as well as searching through his gear and gadgets for something. He picked up the three corded metal linked device he worked on. Handing it to the female quickly he went back to sitting down behind the computer desk almost hurriedly, it felt like he was rock hard, he didn't want to check to see if he had a bulge..not in front of her.
"Oh thank you this should work perfectly." The female looked over the device in her hand.
"Yeah, I already uploaded the instructions here" Donatello leaned over the desk just enough to hand her a tablet. He cleared his throat trying not to eye Catwoman's cleavage. "It should be easy enough to use for a few charges before I can make you another one"
"Thank you Donatello..you know you're a lot more laid back than your brother in blue. He wouldn't approve too much of safe breaking tech like this.."
"I-I know. Well I'm aware you're one of the good guys and.."
"And thanks..good work kid."
His eyes slightly widened a bit as he felt her hand on his shoulder. He looked up to her smiling, not realizing she had moved that close to the desk where he was.
"By the way" she started. "What's with the masks? You guys are turtles after all.."
"O-oh it's a ninja thing I guess. Just the way we were trained and all that.." She gave a soft smile to his response.
"By the way" She moved her hand off his shoulder as she started to walk away. "Maybe it's a good idea to keep seated if you're going to be bulging out of your shell like that.." |
b0bb10d2a38c40be96fac1f8cc884795 | ['459e8b8e3ff34f719f9986d36c3e2fc1'] | Alex thought that with any luck, in this secluded and lonely place, they might not find the body for months - if ever found at all. Alex crossed the few paces to the body, removed the glasses, put them in his pocket and knocked the corpse to the floor. He picked up the bag of salt he had noticed before lying up against the wall; sprinkled the body with it to help control the smell, tucked the still warm gun back in the band of his jeans, blew out the lantern, and left the building.
Much Later That Night
=====================
Alex approached the two-story motor hotel built into the side of a hill. All was quiet and still. The heat and humidity was still oppressive, and as a concession Alex left his leather jacket unbuttoned. The manila envelope could be seen tucked into his pants.
He kept to the shadows, inching ever closer to his destination. Alex was thankful that he was in the country where the overuse of outside lighting wasn't much in favour. He finally found what he was looking for - motel unit 1013. He stopped and listened at the door, realizing, as he was doing so, how utterly useless this action really was; it's almost always impossible to tell is anyone is in a room by just listening at a door. He smiled wryly to himself at his own folly.
"He'd come this far; he might as well finish the job," he thought. Reaching for his tools he quickly had the door unlocked. "Stupid, Mulder," he said quietly, "you should always use the security chain." He placed his hand on his gun, just in case, and inched his way into the room closing the door behind him.
The room was deathly quiet, the only sound being the rhythmic in and out of Mulder's breathing. The room smelled of Fox, sweaty, earthy. Alex was surprised to notice that even the TV was still and quiet; this was odd as Mulder nearly always slept with it on. Even the whir of the air conditioner was missing giving Alex the reason for the heat in this room.
He stood with his back braced against the door to give his eyes a chance to adjust themselves to the lack of light. Slowly his vision cleared and he was able to see some details. He saw Mulder's sweats and t-shirt thrown haphazardly on the chair by his bed - Mulder's only concession to the heat. The sheet on the bed had slipped down and was barely covering the man's groin.
Alex smiled and was barely breathing when he noticed what little covering Mulder had on his groin was being tented by one impressive erection. "You must be having one hellofa dream, Mulder," Alex whispered.
Alex quietly crept to the bed, realizing what he had in mind was really selfish and devilish, even to his standards. He eased his weight carefully onto the foot of the bed, lying between Fox's legs. The only response he got from the man was a slight groan from the friction of the sheet on his cock.
Slowly, carefully, like peeling an over-ripe banana, Alex peeled back the sheet revealing the prize in all its glory. Alex feasted his eyes on it, licking his lips.
As soon as the sheet was pulled back, Alex was assailed by the smell of the man - his dark, musk scent making his own cock jump in response. He took his finger and easily, gently traced the large vein up to the tip getting a sigh from Fox in his sleep, as the erection grew even larger.
Alex looked at the trim stomach and the thin line of hair leading down, like a pointer, to the riot of pubic hair beneath and the engorged rod standing up straight and proud. He couldn't restrain himself any longer; he had to taste. He took his tongue and gently licked Fox's scrotum, enjoying the tickle of the fine hair on his tongue, and enjoying the unique taste of the man.
Mulder slept on, oblivious to the reason for his groans. Alex licked at the base of Mulder's cock, with his hand gently playing with his balls. Mulder arched his hips, slightly, but didn't awaken. Alex continued up, placing his tongue in the slit, prying it open. Fox sighed happily. Alex opened his mouth wide and tasted the head, closing his eyes in pleasure. He started to take Fox deep into his mouth, thrilled by this silky pleasure.
Fox began to move, to groan. He thrust himself deeper into Alex's mouth.
"Oh, God! June, that feels so good!" Fox said in his sleep.
Alex spit the cock forcefully from his mouth as though it were poison and Fox awoke. Alex felt some part of himself being ripped from his body, and watched as it withered and died. In one swift movement Alex threw himself on the body of the awaking man, nose to nose with him.
"Who's June?" Alex shouted.
Fox had seen dead men's eyes before, and he saw them looking at him now from a face gone parchment pale.
"Alex, I've met someone. Scully introduced us." Fox decided to play it cool.
Alex removed himself from Mulder's body and stood up "I'm happy for you, Mulder," Krycek said sarcastically. He was surprised he was able to speak at all with that huge lump in his throat and a stomach that felt like one big knot of pain.
He looked at Fox for long minutes, neither of them blinking or saying anything. He finally reached in the band of his jeans and threw the envelope at Fox who was making no attempt to cover himself.
"What's this?" Fox asked.
Alex looked sad and in a voice small and defeated he said: "I told you I would help you." | 1c84a77fc1ed4daf84f4534f9c44f56b | ['459e8b8e3ff34f719f9986d36c3e2fc1'] | Skinner had no difficulty with the zipper of Alex's jeans, he reached in and fondled the man. He felt the shiver going through the man in his arms. He broke the kiss and laid his forehead against that of the other man. "Take off your pants, Alex. And your boots and your socks." His tone of voice would brook no rebellion. "But keep the jacket and the shirt!"
Krycek separated from him slowly, looking at the older man's face. Wondering. Wondering what to expect. He did what he was told. Slowly opening the button of his jeans, slowly pushing them down his thighs, stopping just momentarily at the point when his turgid cock would be freed and flap against his belly. He looked at Walter and gave him a teasing smirk.
He continued pushing his jeans down, and Walter could see how aroused he was. He toed off each boot in turn and hooking a large toe, in turn, with each sock stripped them from his feet.
Skinner's face showed his appreciation. He got down on his knees before the younger man and licked his belly, slowly tracing with his tongue, the dark hairy line from his belly button to his public hair, leaving a wet track in his wake. He took Alex's cock in his hands pumped him a few times, and put his tongue to better work on the head of the cock he remembered so well.
Alex moaned. When that talented tongue sucked at his major vein, his knees almost buckled. The older man handled his balls and he moaned again, pushing into the caress.
Alex placed his hand on Walter's shoulder, gently kneading sore and tired muscles. "Seems like old times, Walter, and we had some good ones."
Walter palmed his companion's balls, rolling each one from one finger to the other. His other hand was stretching the hairy flesh, heating it, pulling at it, making it pliable. He hand closed around the flesh, forcing the balls down, filling out the flesh they now inhabited. He slowly dropped the cock from his mouth and got up from his knees with the younger man's balls still in his hands. He turned towards the stairway and tugged them gently along with him. Alex had no choice but to follow.
"Ow!, Walter that hurts! What the hell are you doing?"
Walter's smile was priceless. "Why Alex, just what you're doing to me. I'm leading you around by the balls. And unless you want to start a new career as a boy--soprano, I'd suggest you keep up with me."
Alex followed the AD like a shadow, trying to anticipate Walter's every step as best he could. When he got to the bedroom, he looked around noticing the regimented neatness of the place. Although Alex had been to the older man's apartment on a number of occasions, this was the first time he'd made it to the 'inner sanctum.'
"Okay," he said sharply, "stop, this is far enough. Your attempt to control this...this situation is over!" His face became hard again and he looked like a man totally in control, no question. Alex is a man who likes to keep people *off balance*.
The older man released Alex's balls and turned to look at him, standing tall and proud.
"This is how it's going to work, Walter, tonight you're my dog, my fuck toy. You won't speak unless I ask you a direct question? Understand?"
Skinner shook his head in ascent.
"What did you say Walter, I didn't hear you!"
The AD opened his mouth as if to speak and shut it immediately. Alex's eyebrows rose in a question. The older man gulped. "Yes, Alex, I understand."
"Fine. Now go stand over by the bed. And Walter, don't move, put your hands down at your side. Leave them there until I tell you otherwise."
Skinner had never seen Alex's face shine with such a brightness, such an intensity. And his own face flaming red--the indication of his own humiliation. He could feel the sweat trickling down the trench of his spine.
"You can stop this any time, Walter, just say the word, and I'll stop." Alex waited for a reaction from the older man, but none was forthcoming. "Now stay perfectly still, don't move a muscle. I'll be right back."
In a smaller amount of time than Walter thought possible, Alex was back, fully engorged cock swaying back and forth between his legs like an accusing eleventh finger. He was carrying a small black bag that Skinner failed to notice when he had first came into the apartment. He throat went dry just thinking about what it contained.
Walter's eyes spoke volumes. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came. "You have a question, Walter? Ask it."
"Why are you doing this, Krycek. Why?"
"You're a fine looking man, Walter, even at your age. You've looked after yourself. Why am I doing this? Because I want to, but mainly because I can, and mostly because you'll let me - willingly. You can stop this at anytime -- anytime, Walter. All you have to do is say the word, but the consequences might be...drastic" Alex sneered.
If Walter could kill with a look, Alex would be a dead man.
"Now I want you to remove your tie, slowly, seductively. I want a show Walter. With a body like that, you must be able to move it nicely."
Alex wantonly stroked his cock, slowly, watching the older man, waiting for the show to begin.
Skinner didn't leave him long to wait. His hands slowly traced up his own chest to the knot of his tie. Stoking the silk of the thing like it was the most erotic thing in the world. His fingers slowly untied the knot and he drew it through his shirt collar, swaying it from one side to the other, finally pulling it free, he looked for spot to place it. |
2d2023a6d4084d8aa8cb3ea1a62374f2 | ['45aa2dff24214087a2b44711fb12556a'] |
Home for the Holidays
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Merry Christmas, Mary! Hope you enjoy, my friend. I made a parallel to one of your favorite scenes! If we could only see this on-screen!
> The story will explain the title!
> Also, a special thanks to fiftyshadesofwestallen for a little inspiration in the last part of this story!
> I do plan a prequel that is hinted at in this story. In addition, a move-in sequel as well.
Iris West-Allen sat in a rocking chair nestled in the corner of the loft in which the West-Allens called home.
The window shined and glistened as the sun began to rise and reflect the frost on the window pane. Iris smiled and marveled at the beautiful view that was set before her on this Christmas morning. She remembered the Christmas in which Barry had surprised her with the loft and how the view was the first thing that caught her attention.
Nowadays, her attention was largely shifted towards the bundle that currently wiggled in her lap. The biggest grin broke across Iris’s face, as she looked down at her daughter. It was that same grin that Iris couldn’t seem to get off her face these past few months. Iris didn’t mind though, she was enjoying motherhood and it brought her more happiness than ever she could imagine.
She grabbed her daughter’s tiny hand and kissed it. “Merry Christmas, my baby girl.”
“You want to see the snow, too?” Iris whispered softly to Nora, while cradling her to her chest.
Iris rose from the rocking chair, a gift from Joe and Cecile, and first, headed to check on her sleeping son. She peered down into the crib, careful to arrange Don’s blanket, without waking him up. If there was anything he took from his father, it was that they were both light sleepers. “Merry Christmas, my baby boy.” She tapped the blanket and let her son continue to sleep.
Iris continued over to the window. She took her daughter’s hand and placed it up against the glass.
“See, snow.” Iris watched as Nora marveled at the sight of the snow. Her eyes shined with curiosity, trying to understand the concept of snow and white things falling from the sky. It was those same eyes that she seen plenty of times over the years in the man that she loved. There were times that they couldn’t believe just how much the twins were like them.
Iris ran a hand across the wispy curls of her daughter’s hair. “You’re enjoying it too, aren’t you?”
She took a seat at the window. “You should know this is my favorite part.”
The view was her favorite part of the loft. She always enjoyed spending the evenings looking out over Central City.
It was during these moments that Iris was grateful for Barry’s tendency for extravagant gifts. He had picked the perfect home for him and her, and now their family. This year, served as the first Christmas for the twins, and Barry and Iris might have gone overboard to make it special.
Even though they may not remember it, it would mark the beginning and start some family traditions of their own.
Over the fireplace, hung stockings embroidered with the name of each person in the household. The six-foot tree stood beautifully in the living room, filling it with the scent of pine. It was this tree that sparked a week-long debate over size, placement, and who knows what else. Although, they were now certain that it was perfect, even if it was too big for the space.
As Iris looked around the loft, she couldn’t have been happier with the “winter wonderland” that was their home. It was the nickname that Cisco had coined after seeing the way the couple had festively decorated their home.
By the look of things this morning, they were hopefully off to a better start than their Christmas last year.
“I can’t believe it’s been a year since we’ve known about you. I outdid your father in the present department last year.”
Iris laughed, as she reflected on last Christmas. “Maybe too much.”
“I’d say you’ve finally learned how to reach my level of grandeur and spectacle,” Barry stated as he came down the stairs towards his family.
Iris laughed. “I’m glad I finally could learn. Don’t expect a repeat performance this year.”
Barry let out a chuckle. “Trust me, I don’t want one.”
Barry kissed the side of Iris’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, love.”
“Merry Christmas, babe.”
Barry reached down and ran a finger across his daughter’s cheek. “Merry Christmas to you as well, my beautiful girl.”
He walked across to the crib that contained his son. “How are my tornado twins this morning?”
Iris rolled her eyes. “Are you still calling them that?”
Barry let out a small, but quiet laugh. “It fits them, though. You have to agree.”
Iris let out a yawn. Even though she didn’t want to admit to it, but Barry was right. It was the perfect nickname for their twins. She loved the twins with all her heart (and more), but they were exhausting --- from pregnancy to now.
“Considering the way things started, literally a year ago. Yes.”
Barry looked down at their son, who was sound asleep. “They are definitely worth all of the excitement.”
Iris looked back her daughter, concentrating hard on the snow at the window. “Yes, they are.”
Barry laughed and quickly covered his mouth when he realized Don was beginning to wake. He looked back towards the source of his laughter; his daughter’s intense concentration at the snow.
Iris shook her head. “What are you laughing at?”
Barry pointed his head toward his two favorite girls. “The both of you. She’s so concentrated. Burrowing her forehead, like you do.”
The large grin broke out across Iris’s face again. She had a feeling this would be happening a lot today. “It’s cute, isn’t it?” | f7e07679cd0a4959986c5cbadf25dc76 | ['45aa2dff24214087a2b44711fb12556a'] |
Our First Christmas
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Originally created for WestAllen Secret Santa in 2017
>
> Special thanks to @pornnotcorn, @starplanes, @autistic-alien, and @mathxjunkii for your winter and snow expertise!
>
> I may eventually do an unrated version for the ending someday ;D!
The sun shone brightly through the window as Barry watched the slumbering form next to him. He had awoken earlier and sped through his shower to return and watch her sleep.
The light partially cast itself on his wife’s face and illuminated the curls of her hair that had slipped through her wrap. His wife. It was something he had dreamed about for years and there were days he couldn’t believe it was their reality. He continued to watch her as she cuddled into the warmth of the blanket and his body. The light growl from his stomach broke his gaze and prompted him to cook breakfast on this Christmas morning. He rose from the bed and his feet lightly tapped across the chilled floor to the kitchenette their cabin provided.
It was the smell of sizzling bacon that had woken Iris West-Allen from her well-earned slumber. She was surprised, but glad when Barry had them pack and brought them up to this winter retreat as an early Christmas gift. After all the drama of recent weeks, it felt great to get decent amounts of sleep and non-interrupted quality time as a married couple. They planned to spend a few days here and return home on Christmas day.
“Morning, Barry.”
“Morning, sweetheart. I hope you’re ready for this gourmet breakfast.”
Iris laughed. “From the way it smells, I’m definitely ready.”
As Barry finished cooking their breakfast, Iris began looking through the notifications on her phone.
_Dad: Merry Christmas, baby girl! See you soon! Love you!_
_Cecile: Merry Christmas, Iris! I’m excited about your gift lol. Till this afternoon!_
_Linda: A foot massager after my jogs is what I needed! Thank you! Wishing you and Barry a great first Christmas!_
_Wally: Can you folks get here so I can I can get to my gifts?_
She laughed at the last message. If there’s anything they had in common, it was their impatience for Christmas gifts.
I _ris (to Dad): Merry Christmas, dad! We’ll finish up breakfast and be on our way. Love you! <3_
_Iris (to Cecile): Merry Christmas to you too Cecile! I’m excited too lol. See you soon!_
_Iris (to Linda): You’re welcome, girl! And thank you! Have a great Christmas! Can’t wait to see you for New Year’s Eve!_
_Iris (to Wally): Well, Merry Christmas to you too lol. Tell dad to let you open one gift._
As she placed her phone back on the nightstand, she noticed the flashing red light on the in-room phone. It’s probably just about check-out. She let the message play as she removed the wrap and fingered through her curls.
_Good Morning! As we were expecting, we received snow last night and we ended up receiving about a foot of snow! Due to this, we have been informed that the roads are inaccessible, and cars are to remain off the roads until the plows come in the morning. If you planned on leaving today, your reservation has been automatically extended until tomorrow. The office and dining hall will remain open. Remain safe and contact us if you have any questions. Have a_ merry _Christmas!_
“Well I guess we won’t be heading home,” Barry said as he brought the tray over of food to the bed.
Iris broke off a piece of the French toast. “No, unless we want to leave the car behind.” She stated with a bit of mischievous look in her eyes.
Barry climbed into the bed, laughing at what she was implying he should do. “I don’t fancy super speeding in this much snow in the bitter cold.” He reached for the remote and turned on the TV. “I highly doubt you would enjoy it either.”
Iris giggled. “Nope. I’m good, right here under the blankets..with you.” Barry drew himself closer, kissing her now powdered lips. He licked his lips taking in the sweet taste of her mouth. “That’s some good French toast.”
“Uh-hm.” Iris pressed her lips back upon against his before breaking apart to place a forkful of French toast into his mouth.
They continued to sit there together, eating and feeding each other, while the television played in the background.
Once finished, Iris reached over to the side for her phone. “We should call dad and let him know what’s going on.” Barry nodded, gulping down that last of the juice in the glass. He picked up the tray and moved it onto the counter.
The familiar ring of FaceTime is heard before Cecile’s face pops onto the screen. “Hi, Iris. Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas, Cecile! How are you?”
“I’m great. Your dad is in the kitchen working on dinner. You and Barry heading home?”
“Not quite.”
Joe comes lumbering into the screen. “Not quite? You two done got cozy up there?”
Barry laughs. “A bit, Joe. We apparently are snowed-in.”
Cecile twisted her lips into a sad expression.
“Aww. How long as you guys there for?”
“At least until tomorrow morning.” Iris responded.
“At least you have each other. Going to miss you too.”
“I’m going to miss you too, dad. We’ve never had a Christmas apart.”
Joe gave her a sad smile.
Barry looked at the screen, scanning the room for a missing voice. “Where’s Wally?”
“He went outside. Wanted to enjoy the snow a bit after he terrorized me about opening a gift.” Joe said, his eyebrows raising at Iris.
She laughed. “Sorry about that. You know how excited Christmas makes us.”
Joe amusingly shook his head. “Oh, I know. Want me to go and get him?”
Iris shook her head no. “It’s fine. Just tell him we say hi.”
Cecile smiled. “We will. And we’ll hold off on some gifts until you get here.” |
e82a3f92371341bea81c41dd73660c20 | ['45b767afcb764b2a8273b9b36fca3a59'] |
Forever and Always (Draco Malfoy)
**Author's Note:**
> I wrote this for my best friend, b.
>
> hi, b.
>
> sorry i threw that waterbottle
>
> (sorry it hit you in the vagina)
_**She's sitting at the table, the hours get later** _
_**He was supposed to be here** _
_**She's sure he would've called** _
_**She waits a little longer, there's no one in the driveway** _
The food in front of me is cold, and I'm pretty sure I'm saltier than it. Draco was supposed to be here, home, with me! Fuck that school, he said, and everyone in it.
Surely he'd be home by now.
I get up and call his parents but, no, they haven't seen him. I call the Weasle family- Weasely?- but they haven't seen him either.
Nobody has and I start to panic.
**_No one's said they've seen him_ **
**_Why, is something wrong?_ **
Panic starts to invade my body, pushing the anger out and filling me up. My mind turns- he hadn't told me the specifics of the wizard world, sparing me from the blood status debate, telling me we're going to run away together, he'll make sure we're never found, forever and always.
**_She looks back to the window_ **
**_Suddenly the phone rings_ **
I'm pacing nervously when the dull thud of something hitting the upstairs window sends me flying up the steps, desperate for it to be Draco appariating- apparating? appearing? I don't know- but it's not. It's a barn owl with tawny feathers and beady eyes and rolled up parchment on it's leg and my heart stops.
_**A voice says something's happened** _
_**That she should come right now** _
I throw the window open so hard the glass shatters, but I don't care. I recognize the writing. Harry Potter's messy scrawl makes my blood run cold because the only time I've ever seen it is on a warning about Draco being a Death- a Death something- that the house dwarf delivered.
**_Her mind goes to December_ **
**_She thinks of when he asked her_ **
**_He bent down on his knee first_ **
**_And he said_ **
Before I can read it anxiety crawls up my neck and paralyzes me. The ring on my hand feels ten times heavier and all I can think about is his hand in mine and his eyes on mine and the way the ring felt when I first let him put it on.
** _I want you forever, forever and always_**
I don't know how he had done it but he had snuck me into his Wizarding school. It was winter break and it all looked like shitty ass ruins to me but they were our shitty ass ruins and they were fucking _beautiful_ shitty ass ruins and I loved every fucking minute of it.
**_Through the good and the bad and the ugly_ **
Draco told me to close my eyes and he described the school and the ground and the Quiffle Pitch- or whatever the hell it was called, I was too busy melting at the smoothness of his cold voice- and he told me what it was like to ride a broom before he put me on the back of his and took me for a ride.
**_We'll grow old together_ **
When we landed he told me everything he loved about me and he got down in the snow and put a ring on my finger and even though we were sixteen I knew we were meant to be and that I would love him forever- muggle or not.
**_Forever and always_ **
I unwrap the letter slowly and the owl watches me. My eyes widen and I collapse and _oh no, please no, not my Draco, not my love, please anyone but him, please!_ And my voice turns raw and I'm pretty sure I start coughing up blood from yelling so hard but my tears dilute whatever blood is on my chin and Draco cast a silencing charm on our room when we first moved in so it's okay that I'm screaming.
_**She pulls up to the entrance** _
_**She walks right to the front desk** _
Hermione Granger- the smart muggleblood- turns up an hour later at my flat and magics her way in to find me curled up on my bedroom floor, dead eyed and crying. She doesn't say anything but she gives me some water to drink and wipes the makeup off my face before pointing her wand at my throat to heal it.
I start to think that maybe when Draco talked about magic and his school and his friends and his enemies and his father that I should have listened more.
"You need to go see him," Hermione says, her eyes on mine and her hands gripping my shoulders. I shake my head.
"I can't," I say, but my voice doesn't sound like my own, "Your government won't allow it."
She shakes her head, "They're making an exception," And then she turns and I feel like I've been stuck in a vacuum and everything is turning and I can't breath all over again and _oh god why me_.
**_They lead her down a million halls, a maze that's never ending_ **
**_They talk about what happened but she can barely hear them_ **
It's a feeling I never want to feel again and I keep my eyes closed as Hermione leads me into a new, foreign place. People are shuffling around with little sticks in their hands and funny costumes on but all I focus on is Hermione's hand pulling mine, pretending it's Draco's, pretending he's okay.
But he's not.
I try not to hear the doctor's words- Harry has already told me what I need to know- but I see him and the ginger one standing awkwardly outside a door marked Malfoy and I'm confused. | 6e1e01a735d2462d863751a93286663a | ['45b767afcb764b2a8273b9b36fca3a59'] | "What are you lot doing here? I thought you hated Draco,"
The ginger one shrugs, "We do, but a lot has changed since the Second War and no bloke deserves to die alone."
**_She tries to keep a straight face as she walks into the room_ **
**_She sits by his bedside, holds his hand too tight_ **
I feel like I'm about to pass out but the ginger has to dodge the burst of light from Hermione's wand and it sends him into a nearby seat. Everything is spinning and I have to show the ring to a small lady with a pointy hat to be let into the room and when I see him I think I'm going to puke and maybe I do everything is a blur and _oh god why him why me why us why!?_
**_They talk about the kids they're gonna have and the good life_ **
**_The house on the hillside, where they would stay_ **
His face is bloated and bleeding, and I can barely make the words _blood traitor_ out and bile rises in my throat. He's pale and barely breathing but I walk to him anyways, I kiss him anyways and I hold his clammy hand anyways; dammit he's still Draco and he's still the love of my life.
** _Stay there forever, forever and always_**
"Hi baby," I whisper, even though I'm pretty sure he's asleep, "They let me in. I'm here. Harry sent me an owl."
**_Through the good and the bad and the ugly_ **
"I love you so much, Draco," My voice is muffled by tears and my eyesight is blurring, "God, I'm so sorry," I lean my forehead on his hand, sobbing lightly. I do not look up when I feel his slender, cool fingers card through my hair.
**_We'll grow old together, and always remember_ **
"I love you, too, sweetheart," His voice doesn't sound like his, it's wracked in pain and I wonder how good wizard medicine is because God dammit, I might not be able to wave a wand and watch sparks come out but my world has shit to prevent hearing the strain in his voice and seeing the tears leaking from his eyes.
**_Whether rich or for poor or for better_ **
"They can't do anything for me," Draco coughs up more blood and I don't even blink as it dribbles down his chin, "My father made sure of it."
**_We'll still love each other, forever and always_ **
"I know," I say shakily, "I just wish-" I break down crying and Draco nods.
"I know."
** _Then she gets an idea and calls in the nurses_**
** _Brings up the chaplain and he says a couple verses_**
They both look up as a woman with an air of superiority walks in, followed by Harry, Hermione and the ginger boy who's name I still don't know.
But it doesn't matter.
Because Draco is dying and fading away and I can't do a damn thing and I can't live without him and the woman says something to me but I can't hear her.
**_She borrows some rings from the couple next door_ **
**_Everybody's laughing as the tears fall on the floor_ **
**_She looks into his eyes, and she says_ **
"I said," The woman says sharply, looking at me over her spectacles, "Do you want to marry Mister Malfoy?"
"Yes," I breath back, "With all of my fucking heart," The room lets out a nervous chuckle and she pulls out two rings.
"These were mine. Mister Malfoy," She gives Draco a stern look, "Remember that I, too, was once in love with a muggle man. They're very precious," He nods slowly and grins.
"Thank you, Professor McGonagall," he says.
** _I want you forever, forever and always_**
** _Through the good and the bad and the ugly_**
And the vows are said, and everyone is crying, but all I can think is that I'm not going to be the same without him.
**_We'll grow old together, and always remember_ **
**_Whether happy or sad or whatever_ **
And he dies two hours later in my arms and his last words are _I love you_ and the last words he hears is me saying _I love you, too, all of you, I'm sorry Draco_ , and he smiles faintly before kissing me one last time.
**_We'll still love each other, forever and always_ **
**_Forever and always, forever and always_ **
And I die a little two months later when I find out I'm _pregnant_ because how am I going to raise this baby? Harry Potter is already letting me live with them and _shit_ it's Draco's kid but he's not going to be here to see me birth.
** _She finishes the vows but the beeps are getting too slow_**
** _His voice is almost too low_**
And the night I give birth the beeping of the monitors sound too much like his and Hermione, Ron, Harry and Ginny look too excited and I'm happy but the first time I hold Cedric Draco I cry for hours.
**_As he says, "I love you forever, forever and always_ **
**_Please just remember even if I'm not there_ **
**_I'll always love you, forever and always."_ **
And I can't help but sing my baby boy the vows his father said to me win his last hours, hoping that he'll be half as magical and beautiful as his father. |
1ec40f02e0704bbb88290da601bafdcf | ['45b7e52e2a924db290a2348c1ac3e085'] | chan sighed, planting his forehead on his knee in order to avoid eye contact with anyone and everyone in the room. before he knew it, felix was pulling him by the arm to his feet and towards the closet. what chan hadn’t noticed was felix’s overzealous amount of giggles and a small wink towards the group over his shoulder.
chan was right about two things: the closet was small, and felix was too enthusiastic for his own liking. ignoring the jeering he got from his friends, chan closed the door, only leaving him and felix together.
“you know, we don’t have to do this,” admitted felix, looking down at his shoes, “i know you didn’t want to come here in the first place.”
chan tilted his head, looking at felix with something that resembled confusion, but then the corners of his mouth curled into a deadly smirk, “that would be breaking the rules though, right lixie?”
felix’s head snapped up at the nickname, something sparking in his eyes, “yeah, but i’m the one who forced you to go to this even though i know you’d rather not, but the guys really wanted you to—“
felix was cut off by chan quickly flipping him to swap places, chan’s hands landing on either side of felix’s head with a soft _ thud _ on the door and narrowing his eyes at the younger,
“you talk too much.”
and just like that, chan’s lips were on felix’s. much to chan’s surprise, felix didn’t stiffen up from the sudden movement, instead melting into chan’s lips. they kept this rhythm for a few beats, lips slotting into place against each other, until felix’s hands roamed to the hem of chan’s turtleneck, sliding his hands over the front to tug the leather jacket off chan’s shoulders. grinning against felix’s mouth, he shucked off the jacket, letting it slide off his arms and onto the ground.
snaking his arms back up felix’s torso, chan trailed his fingers around to the small of his back, dragging felix’s shirt up and out from behind his belt, leaving enough room to slide between the fabric, cold fingers meeting warm skin. the younger shuddered under the touch, reaching his hands up to grip at the hair at the base of chan’s neck, tugging almost out of need.
their movements against the door probably made a bit too much noise, but neither of them seemed to care. chan reveled in the sensation of felix’s lips, dragging his teeth along the bottom lip to illicit a low sigh from the younger. small hands carded through chan’s hair, scratching lightly at the scalp in just the right places.
neither of them noticed the seven minutes had passed until changbin began pounding loudly on the door, startling both of them.
“it’s 7 minutes, not 7 hours,” he barked, laughing from the other side of the door.
felix sighed breathlessly, falling into chan’s shoulder to bury his face in it. chan shrugged his shoulder, pushing the younger off.
the younger was a sight to behold—spit-slick lips that were noticeably red even in the dim light from the slits in the door, eyes hazed over with something between satisfaction and amusement—that chan almost leaned back in, but he knew he couldn’t. he raised a hand, placing it on the younger's shoulder to turn him around and towards the door.
“walk,” he whispered against felix’s neck, pushing him out the door as chan opened it with his free hand.
the looks from the others was enough to give away that they knew what had happened in that little _ session, _ but nobody brought it up.
before the next person spun, chan looked up to meet felix’s eyes from across the room. a few seconds later, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and reached to grab it.
**from: lixie**
i don’t think you talk enough
**Author's Note:**
> i kind of got burned out at the end so it's not the ending i wanted, but i think it's decently suited.
>
> as always, feel free to yell at me about my fics on LINK.
>
> thanks for reading, and see ya in the next fic! <3 | 20d511ddcba1421da29c589eb338edd3 | ['45b7e52e2a924db290a2348c1ac3e085'] | a familiar stinging sensation came to the back of felix’s eyes, but he was quick to blink it away. he couldn’t cry again, especially not in front of chan. he couldn’t do that to him. felix blinked a few times, hoping the darkness outside was enough to mask the small pools collecting under his eyes. he nodded in response to chan’s question in an attempt to hide the shaking that was caused by the fact that he was on the verge of tears for the second time that night. he took a few shaky breaths before looking at chan once more.
“yeah, of course. of course i know,” he tried, but he barely believed his own words.
“you mean a lot to me, lix. whatever is wrong, know you don’t have to go through it alone. always find me, yeah?” chan tried once more, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and looking the younger in the eyes. felix went mute for a moment, nodding lamely.
the bass of the music coming out of the ballroom was loud, but felix’s thoughts were probably louder. he stood in silence next to chan, feeling suffocated yet unrestricted. a few moments passed, and chan slowly slid his hand off from felix’s shoulder to join his other in propping his head up on the railing.
“you know,” chan hummed, “the stars look pretty bright tonight, don’t you think? kind of reminds me of sydney,” he smiles fondly, “i remember climbing onto my roof just so i could catch a glimpse of a shooting star. there was something oddly comforting about—”
“can i tell you something?” felix almost shouts because of his nerves but quickly backs down after he realizes how much he had raised his voice. he huffs, planting his forehead on his arms in distress.
kind of taken aback from felix’s sudden outburst, chan looked down at him quickly. he lowered himself to felix’s eye level, resting his cheek on the railing.
“tell me what’s on your mind.”
worrying his lip between his teeth, felix looked away for a second before catching chan’s gaze again.
“what would you do if you liked someone, but you weren’t sure if they felt the same way even though you heard from an undisclosed source that they just might have feelings for someone, so you can only hope that they mean you so it won’t make things awkward, and—”
chan cut him off by raising his hand, trying to get felix to pause so he could catch his breath.
“if you really like this mystery person, you should go for it,” chan reassured, lowering his hand, “sometimes getting an answer, good or bad, gives you more closure than if you hadn’t asked at all.”
felix seemed to consider chan’s advice, zoning out as he watched the faint headlights of cars flit by in the distance. after a few seconds of something that could only be described as internal turmoil, felix propped himself up abruptly on the railing and turned towards chan.
“o-okay,” he mumbled, raising his head to be level with chan once again, “yeah, okay.”
chan’s eyebrows raised at that, seemingly waiting for felix to say something else. when that didn’t come, he turned slowly towards the ballroom, gesturing as if to ask felix if he wanted to go back in.
“uh, that-that’s alright,” felix said slowly, “i’d rather stay out here if that’s okay with you?”
chan nodded, turning his attention back to the ferries coming in and out of view. he knew they weren’t moving in slow motion, but it sure felt like life was.
“hey,” felix started, looking down at his hands that were dangling over the railing, “we’ll be okay no matter what, right?” he searched for any bit of reassurance from chan.
“yeah, of course—oh my god, of course, lix,” he broke a little, wrapping his arms around the younger and pulling him into a tight embrace, almost afraid to let him go. it wasn’t even a few seconds later that chan felt felix start shaking in his arms, his grip tightening on chan’s torso.
the two stood there for a bit, felix letting everything out, and chan agreeing to let it happen without having to say a word. eventually, chan felt the gentle push of felix’s arms against him, and he loosened his grip.
“sorry,” felix sniffed, blinking rapidly in an attempt to make himself look even a little bit put together. he drew in a few long breaths before laughing a little to himself, “what a prom, huh?”
chan cracked a smile, slinging his arm around felix’s shoulders and bumping their sides, “wouldn’t have wanted it any other way, mate.”
smiling a little wider, felix rolled his eyes in feigned annoyance, “i could have imagined at least a dozen better ways your prom could have gone, hyung.”
when all he got was a shrug in response from the older, felix saw an opening and wanted to take it, chan’s advice from earlier still milling around in his mind.
_“sometimes getting an answer gives you more closure than if you hadn’t asked at all.”_
“so,” felix began, deciding to take this wave of confidence while he still had it, “i’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while, but i kind of got scared because i wasn’t sure how you’d react.”
felix paused to see if chan had anything to say. when he didn’t get anything but an inquisitive look, he decided to press on.
“i know you may only consider me as a younger brother or something like that, but,” the all too familiar prickling sensation was back, “i guess i might consider you something more than that,” he paused to fidget with the cuff of his jacket, “and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, i just wanted to be honest with you. woojin-hyung told me i should find out myself instead of through him.” |
48593f389f6e4903991d26e2294a1d88 | ['45d1664275a54e3f92e21bd2b1fe2be8'] | “It’s good you see you as well. But what are you doing here?” asked Harry again
“Oh Molly, was telling me about you and Draco, and I thought I could help.” said Fleur
“Oh that’s sweet oh you. I actually came down to talk about that.” said Harry as he took a seat
Molly had stopped what she was doing, and had come to join the party at the kitchen table.
“What is it dear?” asked Molly
“Did I do the right thing?” asked Harry
“Oh course you did. This is a sign of a healthy relationship. Everyone needs a break now and then.” said Molly as she took Harry’s hand into hers.
“Are you sure? I know Draco is going ok. Hermione keeps me updated.” said Harry
“It is. Me and Bill have done this once before, and our marriage is stronger then ever.” said Fleur
“Ok, I’ll take your words for it. I think at the end of this week, I’m heading back home. I know what I want know.” said Harry
“And what’s that dear?” asked Molly
“I’m gonna ask Draco to marry me.” said Harry
“Aw Congrats. Here let me give you something.” said Molly before she left for her bedroom. A few minutes later she had come back with a small black box.
“I want you to have this.” said Molly as she placed the box in Harry’s hand.
“What is it?” asked Harry
“Open it.” said Molly
So Harry did, and found a small diamond ring inside.
“It was my engagement ring from Arthur. I asked all my kids if they wanted it. They all suggested that you should take it.” said Molly
“Mrs. Weasley. I can’t take this. It belongs to your family.” said Harry
“None sense. Ron, and Bill are married. George, Percy, Charlie, and Ginny all declined. They want you to have. In fact Arthur and I want you to have it as well. you’ve been apart of this family since you first came here.” said Molly as she got up and hugged Harry, who’s was like her 8th child.
“Thank you.” said Harry
Back at Grimmauld Place, Hermione and Draco were relaxing, when Hermione got a note from Hedwig.
“Oh hello Hedwig. What you got?” asked Hermione
“Hoot.” said Hedwig as she stuck her leg out for Hermione to detach the letter
“What is it?” asked Draco
Hermione quickly read the letter and wrote back her reply and reattached the letter to Hedwig.
“It was from Ron. Just saying he miss me.” said Hermione hoping Draco would believe it.
“Oh, ok. What’s for dinner?” asked Draco whos stomach began to rumbly
“Leftovers. We should eat them before they go bad.” said Hermione
“Ok.” said Draco as he went to the kitchen and heated up some food for himself.
The end of the week has finally come. Harry was finishing his packing when Ron came in.
“Good luck Harry. I know he’ll say yes.” said Ron
“Thanks. Now I should go. Draco has been waiting long enough. With Harry finished with his packing. He had apperated home. He found Hermione in the living room reading a book.
“He’s in the kitchen.” said Hermione not looking up from her book.
“Thank you for everything.” said Harry as he made his way towards the kitchen
“Anytime.” said Hermione
Draco heard the door open but didn’t turn around
“Hermione, want anything to eat?” asked Draco
“Well hello to you to.” said Harry as he wrapped his arms around Draco
“Harry?” said Draco as he turned around in Harrys arms and kissed the living hell out of him.
“I’ve missed you to. I told you it was only temporary.” said Harry
“I missed you to. A week went by quick.” said Draco
“It’s been 3 weeks.” said Harry
“Oh, Guess Hermione kept me busy.” said Draco
“Oh she did. Now Draco I have a question to ask you.” said Harry as he got done on one knee
“Oh Harry what are you doing?” asked Draco as new tears began to fall.
“Draco Malfoy. I love you so much. Will you do the honor of marrying me?” asked Harry as he opened the ring box
“Yes!! I’ll marry you Harry Potter.” said Draco as he pulled Harry up and kissed him.
While they kissed, they hadn’t noticed the cheering from the people who had showed up. When they broke apart, Hermione, Fleur and the Weasley’s were all there.
“Congrats.” said everyone to the newly engaged couple.
“It’s about time.” Said Ron
“Ronald. Shut up.” said Hermione.
“I love you all. Especially you Draco.” said Harry
“And I love you to Harry.” said Draco
The End | 1dbaf276a369435b909f30f66d96bee9 | ['45d1664275a54e3f92e21bd2b1fe2be8'] | “Yes. Were still set up for tomorrow. I’ll see you guys then. I must be going Minerva. Enjoy your visitors.” said Kingsley before he left her office.
“Good day Minister.” said McGonagall as Kingsley flooed back to his office.
“Did we interrupt?” asked Harry
“No. We were just finishing. Did you enjoy the tour Michael?” asked McGonagall
“I did. I can’t wait to come here. But not to be rude Miss, But Dad can we go home?” said Michael
“Sure in a little bit. Let me say goodbye.” said Harry
“No need. I can tell he’s tired. Your more then welcome to use my fireplace.” said McGonagall
“Thank you Professor. I’ll send you a owl tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of your day. Thanks for everything today.” said Harry as he made his way towards the fireplace.
“Your welcome Harry. Now go home and give this boy a nap.” said McGonagall.
Harry and the group had said their goodbyes and headed back to Grimmauld Place.
“It’s been fun. But Ron and I must get home. We’ll see you tomorrow after the meeting.” said Hermione as she hugged everyone.
“Good bye Hermione. It was a real treat seeing you guys today. Be safe.” said Harry as he hugged her and Ron before they left
“Good night mate. See you tomorrow.” said Ron as he followed his wife into the fire and flooed back to there home.
Once they were gone all three were tired and ended up having an early dinner and going to bed. They would need their strength for tomorrow.
10. A Day Harry Has Been Waiting For
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sorry I've been gone for so long. Had school and work and some personal issue. But I'm back. Enjoy.
The next morning was a big day for the Malfory-Potter household. Today was the day that Michael would legally become there son. They had also finally picked a last name for him as well. Harry was the first to wake. He got dressed for the day, and headed downstairs to make coffee and breakfast. Once the cooking and coffee done Harry went up his room to see if Draco was wake.
“Draco sweetie. Are you awake?” asked Harry as he poked his head into the room and looking at his fiancé.
“Hrumph.” said Draco as he slowly woke up
“Come one. Time get to up. We don’t have much time to dilly dally I have coffee and breakfast waiting in the kitchen. I’m going to wake Michael and see if he’s awake.” said Harry as he closed his door and made his way towards Michael’s on the next floor down. Once there he slowly rapped on the door to see if he was up on his own.
“Come in.” said Michael
“Morning kiddo. I’m glad your awake. Time for breakfast. I told Papa we don’t have much time. So you better get dressed.” said Harry as he stood at the doorframe
“Ok daddy. I’ll be down soon.” said Michael as he got up and slowly made his way to his bathroom to shower and get dressed.
With Michael and Draco up, Harry went down stairs to finish his cup of coffee. When he was about to pour his second cup Michael came down.
“What’s for breakfast?” asked Michael as he sat down at the table.
“I made pancakes and scrambled eggs.” said Harry as he made a plate for the little tyke.
“Looks yummy.” said Michael before he dug in
As Michael was eating Draco came down dressed in his Sunday best.
“Good to see your up. Here’s a cup of coffee.” said Harry as he handed Draco his cup and made himself a new one.
“Morning. When do we leave?” asked Draco as he took a sip of the caffeinated drink.
“Well we have to be at the court room at 10. So I’m thinking we leave here by 9, incase they change the time or something.” said Harry as he reflected to his own hearing back in his 5th at Hogwarts.
“Well it’s 8:30. So I saw we hurry up.” said Draco.
“I agree. Everyone shower?” asked Harry
“Yes Dad.” said Michael as he finished off his plate
“I showered last night, so I’m fine, I jus want another cup of coffee before we go.” said Draco as he made his way to the coffee pot. Draco still remembers Harry having to teach him how to use it. It wasn’t a good day for both Draco and the coffee pot.
“Good. Now go brush your teeth. We’re leaving soon. I’m going into the den to make sure we have all the paperwork together.” said Harry
“Ok.” said Draco as he sipped his second cup. He still can’t believe that the this little monster is going to be his son soon.
By 8:30 everyone was ready and standing by the fire place. Harry had the folder full of the papers he would need. Each of them held a hand with Michael, so he doesn’t get lost. Draco grabbed a handful of floo powder and yelled Ministry of Magic. Within seconds they where exiting a fireplace into the lobby of the Ministry of Magic.
“Ok where do we go?” asked Draco who couldn’t remember where they were supposed to go. He was more nervous then he thought he would be.
“I’m not quite sure. Let’s ask at security.” said Harry as he made his way in that general direction anyways.
“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Wands please?” asked the security guard.
“Excuse me?” asked Harry who never has to present their wands since they work here.
“I need your wand sir. It’s protocol for visitors.” said the security guard.
“No I understand, but you must be new. I never need to present my wand as I work here. I’m just trying to find out where we need to go.” said Harry who was trying to keep calm. |
926d74280eb84e2095392f9e16bd246f | ['45d4f1da7ca74071b3a6543885caf5f9'] | Paralyzed
He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. And the intruder was only footsteps away from him. It loomed over him and cast a shadow. Something was pressing on his chest pushing all of the air out of him. He couldn’t move and he couldn’t speak. If he could at least speak maybe he could alert the other members of the intruders presence. His hyungs were right underneath him completely unaware that he was about to be attacked. He began to strain his throat to cry out.
He screamed. He wailed at the top of his lungs as loud as he could. The light flickered on and movement could be heard from surrounding areas. The frightning figure disapeared. Suddenly, he felt air rush into his lungs and he gasped for breath.
“Junhong? What happened?” as voice frantically asked, “Are you okay?”
“What’s going on?” another voice asked.
Junhong tried to respond but found out his voice still unable to produce sound. He glanced over and found both Youngjae crawling from his bed to his own.
“Junhong?” Yongguk climbed the latter, “What is it?”
“I think he’s paralyzed.” Youngjae concluded.
Youngjae reached his bed and climbed in. He laid down beside Junhong and held his hand.
“It’s okay,” Yongguk comforted, “It’ll pass, just hold on.”
Slowly, Junhong felt his body become his own again. He breathed a sigh of relief and squeezed Youngjae’s hand back. Then the tears came.
“Sshh, don’t cry.” Yongjae soothed, “You’re okay. Shh.”
“I was scared.” Junhong sputtered.
“I know, but you’re safe now.” Yongguk put a hand on his shoulder.
“I thought there was,” Junhong cried, “I thought-”
“Don’t work yourself up, you’re going to make yourself sick.” Yongukk cautioned.
Youngjae hugged him and kissed his forehead,
“Get Jongup over here and we’ll take care of him.” Youngjae told Yongguk, “We all need to rest.”
Yongguk left and after hearing some shifting and stern words, a very sleepy Jongup appeared.
“Hey,” He mummbled before laying down on the other side of Junhong.
Youngjae shifted Junhong so that Junhong was on his side with his back to him. Jongup laid his arm down and shifted so Junhong’s head rested on it close to Jongup’s chest while Youngjae positioned his body so it was pressed up and cradling Junghong.
“Are you guys okay?” Yongguk reapeared.
“We’re fine,” Youngjae answered, “Right?”
“Yes,” Junhong nodded.
Jongup grunted.
“I wasn’t asking you.” Youngjae teased.
Yongguk turned off the light. Junhong closed his eyes, ready to sleep peacfully between his hyungs.
———
“Hyung, what are you doing?” Junhong asked.
He was drinking a redbull with Jongup to get themselves more awake. They had been practicing for six hours and had three more to go until meal time. Himchan had simply walked by and taken out of his hands.
“No caffeine.” Himchan explained, “I researched sleep paralysis and it says don’t have caffeine.”
“Hyung, I need to be able to make it through rehearsal.” Junhong protested, “I have to be focused.”
“Wow. You’re one to talk about caffeine.” Jongup laughed, “You’ve had three coffees today alone.”
“At meal time you’re going to take a nap too.” Himchan continued.
“A nap? I’m not a baby!” | 46a88690ea994cb382b509ff1bda534c | ['45d4f1da7ca74071b3a6543885caf5f9'] | Jungkook felt his eyes grow heavy and he slowly blinked. He felt foggy and closed his eyes just for a moment to clear the fog.
“Guys please, we know you guys like to prank each other but this needs to stop,” Namjoon inturrupted, “It’s stopping right now, no more pranks.”
“Okay we promise.” Hoseok agreed while Taehyung and Jimin nodded as well.
“Jungkook do you promise?” Namjoon looked down, “Jungkook? I think he fell asleep. Jungkook?”
“Let him rest.” Jin helped Namjoon shift Jungkook so he was lying on the couch, “You can tell him later that the prank war is over.”
“We all could use some rest,” Yoongi eagerly agreed.
——
“Sh keep it down!” A loud whisper was heard across the room.
“Oh come on! It’s not like he’s going to wake up!” Another whisper answered.
Jungkook wrinkled his nose but did not open his eyes, he had only woken up a few minutes ago and just wanted to rest his eyes. He heard footsteps shuffle closer to him. If that was Hoseok, Taehyung, or Jimin playing another prank on him there would be freaking hell to pay. He snapped open his eyes and sat up.
“What are you doing?” Jungkook glared accusingly at the intruders only to feel his mouth drop open in shock.
Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jimin were standing in front of him and in Taehyung’s hands was a small chocolate frosted covered cake.
“We felt really bad about what happened and we wanted to make it up to you,” Jimin said with a hesitant smile, “So we bought you a cake, do you like it?”
Jungkook looked at the hopefull faces of his hyungs, maybe it was time to let them feel a little bit better.
“It’s very nice,” Jungkook smiled.
The others smiled excitedly at Jungkook’s forgiveness and handed Jungkook the cake.
“Can someone get a knife to cut the cake?” Jungkook asked sweetly.
Jimin had thought ahead and already have one with him and gave it to Jungkook. Junkook accepted the knife and cut up four even slices.
“This looks really good!” Taehyung bounced excitedly.
“It sure does,” Jungkook agreed, “Yoongi-hyung, Namjoon-hyung, Jin-hyung there’s cake for you in here.” |
c73d3a21a5e34f798981a35804a63ba5 | ['4614e366e9cf42fdb420d38a8edcfb47'] | I took a deep breath before shaking myself and going to the tall brick wall at the end of the ally. I may not have been a powerful lycan, but I was still a lycan. I dug my claws into the wall and pulled myself up and over as quickly as I could. Those vampires wanted me dead and I had no idea why. I just kept running until I was in a dark building full of other homeless people. I tried to brush against some of them to mask my own scent as I searched for a basement or attic.
"Ew... why would she pick such a foul place to hide?" I could hear the hushed tones of the female vampire but I couldn't hear the other one. I moved as quietly as I could through the building looking for a way out going higher and higher up in the now abandoned dance studio; stepping over broken glass from the wall of mirrors and over to a window. "Wait! Don't you dare jump!" The female spoke while pointing a cannon at me.
I froze with my back to the window. I couldn't dodge her from this close and even if I did I didn't know how strong she was. She could drain me dry. "Why are you following me?" I cried trying to get her to lower her weapon. "I don't have a pack!" I tried not to make eye contact with her, "I'm of no threat." I tried to calm my heart so that she wouldn't be tempting to do anything rash.
"Really?" She peaked at me from behind the gun, "Wait... so then why are we trying to kill her, master?" She looked behind her as a man in a long red coat emerged causing my darkly tanned face to pale.
"It was an order," He pat her head dismissively before walking in front of her gun and making eye contact with me. "You." He licked his lips and what was left of my scar began to ich.
My instincts kicked in as I lept out of the window backwards landing in a crouch on the sidewalk. I felt a bullet graze my shoulder and it wasn't until I was running for my life did I feel the sting of silver from his bullet. A small hiss left my lips as I listened for them. I couldn't hear anything I could only smell the female and she was close. I had to stay calm and focus. A normal lycan would stand and fight because the vampire's were invading their territory but I wasn't normal and I was too afraid to fight. I let out a low growl at myself for being such a coward.
I felt an arm around my neck and the force of the vampire pulled me to my knees. "I got her master!" She cheered and I bit down into her arm with razor sharp teeth. "Ow! Let go!" She tried to pry my jaw off of her arm. "Let go you mangy mutt!" She screamed before a gentle hand was on my head.
"You should let go. My master just informed me that she would like to see you alive," I kept my eyes closed as his cold gloved hand ran through my hair. "Release my fledgling and no harm will come to you tonight." Was he trying to reason with me? If I listened then I wouldn't die, right? I opened my eyes and kept them down before releasing the young vampire. "What is your name?" He asked sternly.
"Olivia Reid," I said flatly as I looked up at his smiling face, "How about you two? I should at least know the names of my kidnappers." I said boldly still avoiding eye contact.
"Olivia! That really hurt!" The female barked at me. I didn't feel guilt, these two were just trying to kill me.
"I am Alucard and this is my fledgling Seras Victoria." The laughing man, Alucard spoke calmly, "You are an odd one, Olivia and quite fankly not worth my master's effort." My fearful expression twisted into a scowl.
"Then leave me here!" I growled at them. If I was so weak and pathetic then why did their master want me so badly. He just chuckled and started walking. Seras pushed me gently to follow her master. "What does your master want with me?" I asked when we came to a limo.
"We don't know," Seras spoke as she climbed in behind me, "You'd better just hope that she keeps you alive," She said with a bit of sympathy in her voice. I turned to face her and I could tell that she was a new vampire. She still appeared so human but I knew that since she was bitten by an old blood that she had to be powerful. She was able to bring me to my knees with such ease.
"I am hoping," I decided to make the best of this and enjoy my first ride in a limo. I dug around a bit looking for some alcohol but all I found was blood. "I didn't know old bloods needed so much... blood." I slapped my hand over my mouth once I realized that I said that out loud.
Alucard started to laugh and I made the mistake of meeting his cold red eyes. He leaned forward with a wide smile still chuckling silently, "I haven't heard that term in a long time. At least you know how to recognize a real vampire when you smell one," I felt myself blush. Was that a compliment? "Tell me Olivia," His orange tinted glasses slid down to the tip of his skinny nose, "Who told you about us old bloods?" He asked sitting far too close for comfort.
"Um, My mom. S-she told me to pray that I never come face-to-face with an old blood." I stammered in a low whisper. | ea107f665ac140db9f913754cd208a1c | ['4614e366e9cf42fdb420d38a8edcfb47'] | Later that night Toothiana and Baby Tooth went in search for Pitch or any sign of his nightmares. The first place they checked was where the bed in the forest was. Nothing. The ground was smooth as if there’d never been a cavernous hole. Tooth balled her fist and looked around for any sign of _anything_. She looked up at Manny hoping that he could give her a hint, but he only lit her path as she continued searching.
Deep in a cave far below the surface he laid there, asleep. For a moment he was calm, but then the cave around him darkened as the walls pulsed to life. The pale man withered and gasped as he tried to fight the nightmares. They’d been torturing him for months and he was growing weaker and weaker against them. They’d bring back memories that he made sure to bury deep in the caverns of his mind. Things he never wanted to relive again.
_“Daddy!” She choked. “Daddy, I’m scared!” She was crying now. Pitch rammed the door to her room repeatedly trying his dammest to get in. “Daddy, I’m scared!” She screamed almost in pain. He didn’t say anything to reassure her, he just fought to get into that room because he knew that no matter what he HAD to get into that room._
_“I’m coming, darling,” A voice so distance from his own called calmly to the girl, “Don’t you worry, daddy’s here,” Pitch stopped for a moment releasing the door handle. Did he really have a daughter?_
_“Daddy!” That familiar voice called. “Daddy, I’m scared!” It wouldn’t stop! His heart was racing as if he should get to her urgently, but he couldn’t remember why. Why should he care? “Daddy!” Why wouldn’t she stop?_
_Pitch could feel the hot tears fall down his cheek as the dark hall grew darker and shadows launched out, taking hold of him. The door was torn open and a gelatinous shadow squirmed forward crying in_ that _voice. “Daddy?” She –no, it called to him. “Pitch!” The walls began to shake at this new voice, this new trick. “Pitch!” He could feel himself weaken as the shadow before him began to take on a familiar shape. “Pitch, wake up!” It was a Guardian, one of the people responsible for sending him into this endless hell._
His eyes shot open causing the woman above him to jump. She held a staff tightly in one hand with the other on his shoulder. She pulled him a bit, but he didn’t bother to move. “Pitch, come on. I don’t know how long I can hold them off,” Her voice was urgent, but why should he believe her? She’d just as well see him dead, wouldn’t she?
“Leave me, fairy,” He sighed letting his eyes close, but she wasn’t having any of it. He was jolted awake as she tried her hardest to push him into an upright position. “Why are you doing this?” He hissed pulling away from her and sliding over to a wall.
“Because, Pitch,” Her eyes were full of concern, but her voice held an air of uncertainty, “This is wrong. No one should suffer this,” She could feel Baby Tooth shivering in her crown. “Please,” She offered him her hand.
Pitch Black, eyed her hand for a long while, leaving this never ending nightmare would be more than a dream. It was impossible. The fearlings may let her leave the cave, but he was bound there in his current state. He looked back into her violet eyes. They were so full of hope, but at the same time he could see the memories flash through her eyes of the other times they’d encountered and how unpleasant they’d been. Not that this was any less pleasant, he just wasn’t the one attacking her this time. She called his name one more time and his hand shot out to hers. He wasn’t even sure how or why. “Tooth-” She pulled him through the caves so quickly, fighting off the fearlings as if they were nothing more than dream-sand. When they were outside and under the moonlight Pitch seemed to be untouchable. The nightmares tried to get close to him, but they couldn’t. Soon they’d flee and the fairy that had saved him would crouch down.
“Pitch…” She swallowed as his hollow eyes looked up at her. He was on his knees in the dirt looking more lost then before. “I –I am so sorry for what happened to you,” She spoke and reached a hand out to touch his hair. At first he didn’t move as her tiny hand rubbed the side of his head slowly, letting the strands of hair fall between her fingers. But then, in a quick jerking motion he pulled away.
“This is all your fault. You Guardian’s did this to me,” His pale yellow eyes began to burn a bright gold, but only for a moment. He had no fight left in him. “Just… just leave me so that they can finish the job,” He let his head hang.
Toothiana took a breath trying to think about what she should do. She couldn’t leave him. Not after seeing what his fate was. Not after watching the pain and fear on his face while he dreamt. She couldn’t. She refused. “No,” She took his arm. “You’re coming with me for now,” She said pulling a now confused Pitch to his feet.
“How many times must I tell you?” He hissed as he was pulled up and into the air. “Put me down you elaborate buzzard!” He tried to fight against her, but one look down and he was silent for the duration of the flight. |
d5e3a0fb57d446c6923a0a3063d56517 | ['4615e255b6034b76ac2085d49d3f71d6'] | Lexa smiled at Clarke proudly, “ _Dr_. Clarke Griffin.”
“Are you dating?” Came another yell.
Lexa turned them, so they were facing the other way, giving equal time to the other side. She ignored other questions and just turned them slightly every once in a while, for different photographers. Deciding that the photographers should have gotten their fill, she pulled back and laced her fingers with Clarke’s once more. Clarke looked up at her and she nodded towards the hotel. As soon as Clarke started walking with her, Lexa couldn’t help the urge to bring Clarke’s hand up and give it a kiss. This caused more of an uproar, but they kept walking until safely ensconced inside the building.
Their friends were waiting with champagne flutes when they walked into the lobby of the ballroom.
Lincoln lifted his flute in toast, “To Clarke, congratulations on surviving your first red carpet on Lexa’s arm!”
A chorus of “To Clarkes!” rang through the group as they all took a drink.
Lexa pulled Clarke close, “You did amazing baby.”
Clarke blushed.
“What did you say to them out there?” Anya asked.
“Well, someone figured out she was Clarke Griffin rather quickly, so I just corrected them for missing the ‘Dr.’ part of it. She is way more than just arm candy, they needed to know that.” Lexa said shrugging.
Anya rolled her eyes.
“And don’t you forget it,” Raven said with a stern look
Octavia and Lincoln just smiled at them.
Clarke just smiled and kissed Lexa’s cheek, “Thank you, Lex.”
Lexa looked at her, “Nothing to thank me for, you are amazing, I’m not going to let them belittle that just because we are together.”
Clarke chuckled and shook her head, “You can’t fight what all of them decide to say, those who are important know the truth, that is all that matters. I’m just happy that the world now knows you are mine.”
Lexa laughed, “Ah, so it was all a ploy to mark your territory, eh?”
Clarke smirked, “But of course, my love.”
Lexa leaned over and kissed her, “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“So where are the appetizers in this joint? I’m starving,” Raven said looking around.
Octavia’s eyes widened. “Incoming! Incoming!” She shout-whispered.
Lexa turned to see Senator Marcus Kane approaching them. She pulled Clarke a little closer.
“Don’t you all look lovely this evening.” Marcus said as he came up to them.
The Woods cousins all said, “Thank you, Senator.”
Octavia and Clarke both said, “Thanks, Marcus.”
Raven, being Raven, said, “Aw geez, thanks Daddy Kane.”
Anya rolled her eyes.
Marcus laughed. “Please, everyone, call me Marcus. I know I’ve told you that before,” he said looking towards Lexa and Anya.
“My apologies, Marcus, and please, call me Anya,” Anya said with a small smile.
Lexa put her stoic business face on, “And you can call me Lexa.”
Clarke nudged her with her hip in silent reprimand.
“How was the red carpet? Anyone have any issues getting in?” Marcus asks, looking mostly at Clarke.
This made Lexa relax slightly, realizing that he was trying to look out for Clarke. She knows he had called her and talked about what happened with Abby. Abby had apparently not informed him of what happened and avoided it by not answering his calls while he was in D.C. Getting concerned, he had called Clarke. Clarke said he was very displeased with his wife. Lexa appreciated that Clarke said he got even more upset when she told him how Abby went to Lexa the next day. This made Lexa believe that he really did care about Clarke, but she was still wary about all of it.
“I think it went well. They realized who I was pretty quickly.” Clarke answered him.
“So, you’re okay with everything?” Marcus asked, making sure.
Clarke smiled at him, “Yes, thank you, Marcus. Lexa helped make me feel safe,” she chuckled, “she was also sure to let them know that it is _Dr._ Clarke Griffin.”
“That’s who you are, you earned that title, they should respect it,” Lexa added to the conversation.
Clarke smiled at her, making her feel warm inside.
“Excellent, thank you, Lexa. Clarke deserves recognition for all that she has accomplished, I’m glad that you are trying to make sure she gets it.” Marcus said smiling.
“Of course,” Lexa smiled back.
“Clarke, can I talk to you privately for a moment?” Marcus asked.
Lexa held onto Clarke tighter and glared at Marcus.
Clarke looked at her, putting a finger under Lexa’s chin to pull her face towards her. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll be right back.”
Lexa didn’t want to let her go, but Clarke kissed her chastely and let go of her hand to go and follow Marcus.
Anya handed her a new glass of champagne. “I’m sure she’ll be okay.”
“Yeah, Lexa, I don’t think Marcus would do anything to cause Clarke harm. You know I’d be all over him if he would,” Raven told her.
Lexa nodded and took a sip of her champagne, eyeing where Marcus and Clarke took off to.
Lincoln saw a waiter with a tray of appetizers and beckoned him over. Raven just about pounced on the poor guy.
“Rae, damn it, we are all hungry.” Octavia smacked her arm to get her away from the tray so the rest of them could grab little quiches.
“Are you sure you can handle Raven all of the time?” Lexa quietly asked Anya.
Anya sighed, “It may be hard, but trust me, totally worth it.”
Lexa just smiled and shook her head, she felt slightly grossed out, but at the same time, happy that her cousin found someone.
“Should we find our seats?” Octavia asked. | b2c6a95bb9fd416d8d7c060e9e7d847c | ['4615e255b6034b76ac2085d49d3f71d6'] | Clarke looked up sharply and interrupted her, “Lexa. You admit that you are different after having a meeting with him. You say how you have to fight him for everything. You admit that it is trying for you to deal with him. He seems to give you nothing but grief. He rules your life. Not just your business life, but everything! We can’t even be together, except in private, which I wouldn’t care about. I realize privacy is important to you, but it isn’t because you are private, it is because you don’t want him to know. I don’t think I would mind him if he had your happiness in mind, but it is apparent to me that he doesn’t. He wants you to struggle. He wants you to feel like you will never be good enough, because he wants to continue to try and run your company like he is boss, without him actually being in the limelight.”
Lexa looked shocked, her mouth opened and closed, with no sound, before saying. “Clarke.”
“I’m sorry, baby, you asked. And I want nothing more than for you to be happy and this man seems to demand your unhappiness.”
“Baby,” Lexa started, looking a little lost. “I…”
“I’m sorry, Lexa, I just… I just love you. I just want you to be happy. I’m sorry if I overstepped.” Clarke looked away, unable to face Lexa’s wrath.
Lexa reached over and used a finger to Clarke’s chin to pull Clarke’s face towards her.
Clarke looked at her and saw nothing but love.
“I’ve never had anyone try to look out for me like you do. I hear what you are saying. I need to take that into consideration, like, deep consideration. I was brought up a certain way. Titus had a lot to say in that, because my family wanted me to be aware of what was awaiting me with this business. I know how I was raised was different. I just like to think, I must have been raised right, if it led me to you,” Lexa said with a sly smile.
“Oh my, you are terrible,” Clarke chuckled.
“Yet, you still love me,” Lexa responded.
Clarke rolled her eyes and leaned in, kissing Lexa.
Before their kiss could be deepened, the waiter cleared their throat.
Lexa cleared her throat before sitting back, “Baby, did you make a selection?”
Clarke smiled at her and gave her order to the waiter. Lexa gave her order and the waiter went away.
“Truly, Clarke, I hear what you are saying. It gives me something to think about. I always thought of Titus as a necessary evil. He had fought against my change from defense to medical technology. I was amazed how many of our applications were so easily transferred from one to the other, but he fought every single one. I have fought my whole life, though. My father made it clear that I had to earn my place. I was taught, reprimanded, and constructed, all so I would be good enough to take over the company when it came time. My mom tried, but… I really was shown only love when I moved in with Gustus and Indra…” The sentence faded out, Lexa looking out the window for a moment, before shaking her head and clearing her throat. “The more I think about it, the more I realize that Titus feeds into that unhappy time of my life. He took over a lot of my life after my father passed away. I can’t completely fault him, though. He did what he thought was right. In fact, his pushing me to be a better “Face” of the company is what led me to be at the fundraiser where I met you. So it isn’t like it is all bad,” Lexa said with a half smile.
Clarke looked at her shocked, “Baby, we came together in a moment of innocence. I didn’t know who you were and you didn’t know who I was. Titus was never in the equation. I’d like to think I met the real Lexa Woods that night and that is the Lexa Woods I fell in love with.”
Lexa looked at her like she was burning with love. The fire came through in her eyes. She got up and pulled Clarke up with her. Sliding her arms around Clarke’s waist. Clarke linked her hands around Lexa’s neck. Their lips came together naturally.
Clarke knew there was never anyone that she had felt this with. The power, the feeling that went along with this kiss made her weak in the knees. She knew no one would be able to make her feel this way ever again. She also knew that she didn’t want anyone else to bother to try.
They pulled apart at the clatter of plates, both looked towards the intruding sound. The waiter looked at them and apologized profusely while trying to both fan himself and pick the dishes up. It caused him to drop the dishes again multiple times.
Lexa chuckled. “I would normally be angered by being interrupted, but I think our passion may have legitimately broken him. That is something I know can never be reproduced,” she said smiling at Clark.
Clark could only shake her head and kiss Lexa again, quickly, before pulling away, “Maybe we should sit down.”
Lexa only agreed after moving her chair around the table to be next to Clarke’s. There was never a time that my left-handedness worked in my favor more than right now, Clark thought. Lexa grasped Clarke’s right hand.
Clarke picked up Lexa’s hand and gave it a kiss.
The waiter came back with their new entrees. He set them and both women thanked him. He scurried off, there was no other word for the way he moved, and both women chuckled.
“I think you may have frightened the poor waiter, my love,” Clarke whispered, leaning close to Lexa and kissing her cheek. |
61858a3eda8d49e4832daab45bf520e0 | ['46251d15897d4003b004eaf39fc1de0c'] | it's you it's you it's all for you
**Author's Note:**
> title from video games by lana del rey
god bucky loved tony so much. he'd been with him through all of his most recent relationships, even if tony doesn't remember him, he never payed much attention to him. but bucky was always there for him. he had to watch the train wreck of his toxic relationship with steve, the beginning and end of him dating rhodes though they're still as close as they were, the brief and not very good relationship with thor. bucky was a constant of sorts in tony's life. he'd been there for years, he'd tried his best to comfort him in his darker moments. tony knew exactly how bucky felt about him, he'd spilled his guts to him so many times to him about what he meant to him. he just never responded in the way bucky wanted. they flirt like madmen around each other, bucky has seen him in very compromising situations, most of which tony orchestrated. they also talked about having a possible sexual relationship but it never took off anywhere. bucky wished more than anything else he could monopolize tony's love and attention. he'd do anything for it, well, anything except pushing tony. he'd deal with every day of heartbreak if he could keep even tony's friendship. it hurts, knowing that he'll never have him, but when had anything in his life been anything other than pain. bucky would give up every sense of identity he gained for himself for tony's love. maybe one day he'll be happy. maybe not. | f8909356962840f0ae1ffa9501cfa778 | ['46251d15897d4003b004eaf39fc1de0c'] |
boys your age
**Author's Note:**
> leave me other song suggestions and ships blease.
17 running from innocence
Like it's a lion
Nipping at my heels
But I'm young, so I outrun 'em
Jailbait baby, hunting men in their 20s
Cupid's shooting arrows
But I'm cold, so I outgun him
god bucky should not be at this club, he's not even legal yet, but when did he ever care about that? everyone in here is 5-15 years his senior, just how he likes em. all his friends and family try to talk him out of doing shit like this but it's his favorite thing. he's the baby of his friend group, always has been, and they have always teased him for it. eventually he started figuring he might as well go to the men that definitely don't call him a child. they like how young and pretty he is, and it should offput him, but he just revels in the attention. he's almost fallen in love with a few boys but he never let himself get attached too much, he just wanted attention, not commitment.
Bad boy talking fast, talking dirty
He tells me that I'm hot so I tell him that I love him
And he says, "Girls your age
Never mean what they say"
I've got a renegade heart
And it's screaming his name
But then it beats like
You've got time to kill
Baby, don't go jump the gun
Live fast while you're young, honey
Don't go chasing love, chasing love
he meets a guy at one of the fancier bars he frequents(he looks a lot older so they don't ask questions), probably around 28-29, very attractive with groomer facial hair and nice clothes. bucky walks up to him and does what he's best at, flirting and getting men to sleep with him. the guy looks at him out of the corner of his eye when bucky approaches him. "so what's such a pretty boy doing in a place like a bar?" the man asks.
bucky laughs, "i'm sure i can handle myself in such a dump of a place. more importantly, what are you doing here?"
"i just got off from a long day at work and definitely needed a drink." as he finishes that, the bartender puts down a whiskey neat right in front of the guy.
"do you want some help unwinding then, i'm bucky, hopefully the guy you'll be fucking into the mattress tonight. and your name?" bucky said with a smug expression.
the man just laughed, "sorry bucky, no thanks, i don't mess with young dudes, they never mean what they say. but i'm tony if you actually want to know."
bucky doesn't know what it is about this man but he's drawn to him, but the guy said no so bucky gracefully bows out of the bar to go find someone else's bed to stay in for the night.
21 throwin' back revelry like it's morphine
Thought I knew what I wanted
I never saw you coming
Black suit, looking sharp with your dark eyes
He loves my imperfections so I tell him that I love him
at 21 he's been honorably discharged from the army after joining at 18. a bomb went off and bucky lost his arm from the explosion. he's just recently gotten out of recovery at the hospital waiting for whatever's gonna heal to heal. he's working on getting a permanent prosthetic soon, right now he only has a temporary one. at least he's finally legal enough to have a drink in the states, god knows how he needs it. he wants to get drunk to forget about his problems and doesn't feel like drinking shitty alcohol right now so he goes to a higher class bar. as he's tipping back his second drink, someone catches his eye. he's in a nice suit and looks vaguely familiar for some reason. the guy takes a seat next to bucky and orders his drink. that's when it clicks and bucky remembers him from a bar years ago, not super clear memories but enough to recognize him.
"hello, tony?" bucky asks uncertainly.
"yes? who are you?" tony asks
"i met you at a bar a couple years ago," he says. he still feels that strange pull to tony but ignores it at the moment.
"oh right, your name was bucky wasn't it? hard to forget such a pretty face."
bucky blushes, he hasn't been in the game since before he joined the army so his flirting skills are a little rusted.
"hah, yeah that's my name, and thanks."
"so what's the story, if you don't mind me asking," tony says, gesturing to the lost limb.
"oh, uh, i lost it during a bombing when i was in the army," bucky says, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck with his good hand.
"oh damn kid, that fucking sucks."tony replies, seeming genuine.
bucky smiles slightly, "i'm not a goddamn kid asshole," he says jokingly.
tony gets a slight sparkle of mischief in his eyes. "oh really? because compared to me, you're practically an infant."
bucky snorts, "yeah, sure," he finishes his drink and after a few more moments of banter with tony he leaves the bar feeling a lot better and a lot more normal, but he can't help the nagging feeling as if he left something at the bar.
Bad boy talking fast, talking dirty
He tells me that I'm hot so I tell him that I love him
And he says, "Girls your age
Never mean what they say"
I've got a renegade heart
And it's screaming his name
But then it beats like
You've got time to kill
Baby, don't go jump the gun
Live fast while you're young, honey
Don't go chasing love, chasing love |
6153a3ffa10746fe9d3cfda253770167 | ['464904b6ca6c4d39abc83a08ef1e16d3'] | Quietly, I climbed up the back of the tape machine, inspecting it for weak points. There was no place where a rat could gnaw its way in, and all of the cables were too firmly attached for my small body to be able to move them. Just as I was beginning to think the distraction may be necessary, I heard a sound. It was a biological sound coming from inside the camera human.
"Break time," they said, and quickly got up to leave.
<The human made a sort of gurgley noise in their body, and then left! What luck!> I called back to Toby, Rachel, and Marco.
<Saved by Taco Bell,> Toby mused as I pushed the eject button on the tape slot labeled "outside". The tape popped out, smaller than a regular VHS, and I quickly set about it with my teeth. The tapes themselves are quite fragile, and the plastic containing them is easy for a rat to chew through. I made quick work of the casing, then set about the cassette itself. Teeth and claws damaged the magnetic tape beyond repair, shredding it quickly.
<The evidence is destroyed! Marco, I will be returning to your pants soon,> I said happily.
<Rachel is laughing her ass off, just wanted you to know,> Toby chuckled in my mind.
<Why?> I asked. All we had to do was extraction, and notifying Marco that I would be back soon did not seem to be particularly funny. Humans will be Humans, though.
<We'll… We'll tell you later,> she said, sounding relieved that the mission had gone as well as it had.
Mission accomplished, I waited by the door for the camera human to return, which took some minutes, nearly fifteen! Like I have said, they cannot keep to a schedule. The lights flipped on, something I was not expecting, and I noticed that this was not the camera human at all. It was a different person entirely, a man in a suit. He looked at the destroyed cassette, down to me, and quick as a flash, stepped on me, crushing my back end and keeping me from escaping.
<Aaah! Marco, help me, I've been captured!> I cried. The pain was immense, but the abject fear was worse. There rat's brain was screaming that it was going to die, and my own conscious mind was little better.
"Well well well, my subordinates _ weren't _ lying," the man said, a smile breaking out into his face, and terror breaking out in my mind when I realized who this was.
<No…> I gasped. He just laughed.
"I've captured one of your little group at last, _ Andalite." _
11. Esplin II
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Alloran is the name of Visser 3's andalite host, just for those who don't know.
[Continuing memory dump to Invasion Log, Unified Date 901-243-01, first planetary infestation+23 local orbits.]
HAH!
Those Andalite bandits thought they could evade me forever, could they? They were wrong! _ Dead _ wrong!
Who cares that my new captive destroyed evidence of whatever it was they were doing? I got him. That's all that matters, I got him! A young male, and _ feisty _ . Several hork-bajir controllers lost limbs to this one when corralling him in a cage. I thought I would enjoy breaking the traitor from this morning, but _ oooohohoo _ I am looking forward to breaking this andalite. Needless to say, I will infest him shortly after, learn all there is to know about his little band of troublemakers, then hunt them down. If only it wouldn't be so much work to fly around the Empire acquiring morphs again, I might trade out my host for this new one. Mayhaps I shall. I will take the best of their band, and present the rest as a gift to the council of thirteen. Six morph-capable bodies… I will be Visser _ One _ soon enough!
<So,> I said in a drawn-out tone. <You know this is the end for you. The end of your freedom, that is.>
The young andalite said nothing. He still said nothing when a controller jabbed him with a human device called a cattle prod. Very well, let him be defiant, it only adds to the enjoyment.
<What is it that you were doing at the commercial center, young one?> I asked, my voice pure honey. Two jabs of the prod and still nothing. Just angry eyes. The look in those eyes, all four! The _ hatred _ , the scorn, and Alloran forced to watch. I don't hear him much these days. But when I captured this one, I heard him cry for the first time in years. It was refreshing, knowing he's still suffering. What fun would it be if he didn't?
Jab, jab, jab. Increased voltage. Jab, jab.
<Yeerk scum, you will get _ nothing _ from me!> he shouted as he writhed on the ground. I could feel Alloran's brain feeling sympathetic pain, a ghostly shadow of a sensation that species who store their genes in dumb _ animo acid helices _ experience. It was intoxicating, to say the least. The faint shadow of sensation from making him watch, oooh, it was pure bliss.
<There now, young one, but I've gotten something from you already,> I oozed, playing up the smugness. Andalites are arrogant creatures, and lording their failure over them is the worst thing one can do to their psyche. <You exposed your entire operation! All your allies… We will know their names, their faces, and how to find and capture them. All thanks to _ you. _ >
<No.>
<What?> I snapped.
<No,> the prisoner said, with an almost agonal chuckle. They placed their tail blade to their throat and smiled with their eyes. Alloran, that old fool, he was cheering. I shut him up quickly. | dd14383709b64f2ea1b8780788358c39 | ['464904b6ca6c4d39abc83a08ef1e16d3'] | <We've got about ten more minutes before we need to demorph,> I said, breaking the silence. <Want to steal some fries from the outside food court?>
<You know it,> Rachel replied happily. I gave her a peace offering, and I could hear the relief in her voice. We swooped down to the sun-baked plastic seating and went to town. People throw fries to seagulls all the time, it's funny to watch them flap around fighting over it. And I can tell you, as a seagull, it's really not half bad. Seagulls love salt, they want to eat it all the time because most of their food lives in the ocean. So fries to a seagull are about as good as food can get. I wonder if this is how Ax feels about motor oil and cigarette butts.
<You know,> I said, horking down a whole fry, <I'm still me. And I think Tobias is still Tobias. You don't have to treat us different.>
<I guess so,> Rachel shrugged verbally.
<Awesome! Mission accomplished, I guess,> I said, flapping back up to the lamp pole. We resolved to leave separately so as not to arouse suspicion, but then _ he _ showed up.
So, let me start off by saying that seagull vision is only a little better than a human's, but it gets a few more colors than we do. It's funky at first, but you can see some stuff that wouldn't be easily visible otherwise. Jellyfish stand out in UV, and shells almost sort of _ glow. _ We could see a little beyond the visible spectrum, and that's how we saw it.
A big distortion in the sky, shiny and multicolored like oil in water or the surface of a bubble. But distinctly in the shape of a yeerk blade ship. It was invisible to humans, and set down lightly on the roof of the mall. From my vantage point I could see him step out, and my blood ran cold.
_ Visser 3 was at the mall. _
10. Ax V
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Omg actual Animorphs plot? In *my* lgbt fic? It's more likely than you think!
<Ax!> I heard Marco shout in my mind as I was in the meadow, enjoying some earth plants. <Are Jake and Tobias still around? We've got trouble.>
<Jake has left for his home nearly one of your hours ago, but--> I said, but Rachel cut in.
<Look, Ax, we ain't got time! Grab Tobias and get over to the mall as soon as you can!> she said, urgency in her voice. <Pick a bird that can see UV light!>
I galloped back to my scoop, where Toby was perched on a tree with her head under her wing, signaling she was asleep.
<Toby, wake up, there is a situation that requires our immediate attention!> I said, giving her tree a sharp hoof to jostle her awake.
<...How long was I asleep for?> she asked groggily. <I feel like garbage.>
<Twenty-seven of your minutes,> I replied, already morphing to a starling.
<Twenty se--are you fricking serious? I get no sleep for two days and I only get _ twenty seven _ damn minutes before the world starts falling apart without me?> she grumbled, shaking herself awake. Normally, I felt sorry for her but we both had duty to attend to.
<Yes, it is unfortunate, but we have to go! Follow me,> I commiserated, taking off in the direction of the mall.
A few minutes of flying later, and we arrived. Rachel and Marco stood watch from a light pole in seagull morphs, and we alighted just at the edge of thoughtspeak range.
<What the hell, guys, I know we blew cover, so what are we doing back here so soon?> Toby asked stiffly.
<Visser 3 is here, for starters,> Rachel shot back, sounding more annoyed than Toby. I hoped this wasn't going to be the tone of their dynamic from now on. Still, I could see the unmistakable outline of a blade ship parked on the mall roof.
<Why would that be a problem? As far as I'm aware we were not followed back, so coming here would only expose us further,> I asked.
<Yeah, but you two had to pull your little stunt in front of the only store in the mall with an outside security camera,> Rachel said, her voice dripping with exasperation. <Which means you three and Jake are _ fucked _ if he finds the footage.>
Oh. Had I been able to see with all four of my eyes, I would have noticed the black camera dome above us when we were acquiring samples. Maybe I had even seen, and not comprehended. Even in starling morph, I felt myself flush with shame. It was my fault. I had gone against my prince's wishes and created a problem for all of us. But I had done so for the sake of my shorm. Regardless, I should have been more careful.
<I can see how that would be a problem,> I agreed, doing my best to hide my embarassment. <So we must find and destroy the video recording of this afternoon.>
<That's the plan, Ax-man. And since you're Mr. Tech Genius…> Marco trailed off.
<I can do it,> Toby said, honorably taking the duty upon herself. <I'm the reason we got caught.>
<What are you gonna do when you find the camera room? How are you gonna smash the tape with a puny hawk-body? You would have to morph twice as many times as any of us,> Rachel replied. It was true. Toby's status as a nothlit complicated things. |
f9169a2732d6459a80c878e31d7e17c3 | ['4657a36d2f204ed18368e0e98fce840b'] | Pax quickly stood back up, his long blonde hair drenched and fallen out of it’s half ponytail. Soren roared in laughter at the soaking teenager at his side. Pax slung water at Soren who just laughed even harder. “Damned elf!” Pax seethed wringing out his shirt. He began to shiver and hugged his arms together. “It’s cold Soren,” Pax whined in a mock pout. Soren, still chuckling, handed the lute back to Pax. “Remember Pax. Play from the heart, not memory,” Soren reminded him and quickly got out of the water.
“You know, when you run away every time you hand me the lute, it makes me think you don’t believe in me,” Pax called after his mentor. “I do believe in you dear boy. Just think of it as me believing in you so much, I wish to live through the experience to tell the tale to others... Its a bard’s way boy,” Soren assured from the shore of the lake. Pax groaned and slung the leather strap over his shoulder.
He took a deep breath and examined the wooden instrument in his shaking hands, now shaking from nerves rather than the cold. It was a dark green wood, Soren said was from the trees indigenous to the Elvhen woods of Shir’lak. He called them Turnlock Trees, they grew green bark and maroon leaves, strongest wood in all of the regions. On the lute there were golden leaves painted on the edges in a decorative manor, no doubt painted by Soren. It was very old but well kept. The lute was dear to both Soren and Pax.
He plucked at a few cords getting a feel of it. He glanced over at his mentor who watched eagerly. Pax smiled a small bit, being sure not to let Soren see him do so. He played a few more notes. With a long sigh he began his song. One he wrote a few years prior when Soren had first began tutoring him. He heard Soren chuckle warmly from the shore but ignored him.
He played the cords with expert fingers, knowing his song well. The air was still around him and he began to feel disheartened. “Remember Pax... From the heart!” Soren called over to him. Pax grimaced but closed his eyes. He continued playing getting lost in his music. After a few minutes of playing he lost hope in conjuring any magic, he decided he just wanted to play the song. His lips parted and he began to hum to the song. He heard Soren gasp from the shore but ignored him once again. The old man loved it when Pax would sing, it was a rare thing for the blonde but he was talented.
“The lonely bard plays from the water,” he sung quietly. “A singing song in the river stone. A valiant warrior brought to the slaughter, and the sounds of the birds... Are lost upon dead ears. He is left standing, alone,” before he was able to finish his song he opened his eyes to see a giant wave of water hurtling towards him.
He yelped and stopped playing too late as he was drug under by the wall of water. When he stood up out of the water once again he saw Soren on the shore clapping vigorously for him. “That was amazing! Pax you did it! Your first spell,” Soren gushed as he jumped back into the water making his way back to Pax. Soren embraced him in a tight hug, showing him how proud he was of his young mentor.
“Fantastic work my boy. I knew you had the magic in you,” Soren released the hug but kept a tight grip on his shoulders. Pax didn’t know what to say. They had been training for this for the last eight years. Pax was sure he wasn’t magical in any way, he didn’t feel it, but now there was no doubt. Pax smiled happily. “I won’t lie Soren... I was beginning to get worried,” Pax chuckled nervously. Soren shook his head and slapped Pax on the back affectionately. “I knew you were worried boy. But you have nothing to fear. I will always be proud of you. Magic or no,” Soren assured with a knowing smile and left the water. Pax stood there in the water a moment longer, lingering on Soren’s words. “Thank you...”
~Three years later~
“Where have you been boy?” Soren asked sternly as Pax entered the small inn room. Pax closed the door and groaned deeply. “I was hanging out with friends,” Pax mumbled and plopped down heavily on the hay bed next to Soren’s. He rolled over to face away from his mentor. Soren closed his book and placed it gently on the table next to him. “Friends? We haven’t been here more than three days Pax, where in Chimrah did you procure friends?” Soren asked with amusement. “Or are these the buxom, long dark haired type friends?” Soren joked.
Pax didn’t reply to his joking, just laid on his bed facing the wall silently. Soren raised a dark eyebrow and ran his long willowy fingers through his black blue hair, long since began turning grey since their first meeting eleven years ago. He threw his long legs over the side of his bed and faced Pax.
“Paxion Jarvey you look at me this minute,” Soren ordered, his brows pulled together in a worried frown. Pax groaned and rolled over reluctantly. Soren saw the red in his ice blue eyes, and the puffiness of his eye lids, just barely in the dim light of the candles. Soren’s face instantly fell. “Pax... Whats wrong?” Soren knew the tell-tale signs of tears. Especially on his Paxion’s face. | bcdf0c97fd2c48fa9da5209a9f62f092 | ['4657a36d2f204ed18368e0e98fce840b'] | “Well... I brought her there.” Ed answered slowly. “Ed! Where is she?!” he demanded. “She beat us up Eddy! She beat us up and ran.” Ed started to cry over the phone. Eddy screamed into the phone before throwing it violently at the wall. He then turned his attention to Edd. “Fucking A man! Can anyone do shit right anymore?!” Eddy demanded an answer. “Apparently not.” Edd said emotionless, his eyes empty as he looked at the angry man before him. “GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!” Eddy yelled at the top of his lungs and he threw one of Edd’s instrument tables across the room scattering the contents everywhere. He kicked at multiple objects as he left the room. He stopped at the door and turned back around to look at Edd who had not flinched.
“Kill that bitch.” Eddy ordered in an icy tone. The girl began to sob violently. Edd’s eyes widened. “Why? What did she do to you?” the ravenette called out turning on his heel to look at Eddy directly. “Wrong place. Wrong time.” was the cold answered. Edd shook his head. “I will not kill for no reason.” he deadpanned crossing his arms over his chest. Eddy stood there for a moment before strolling back up to the ravenette. He brushed off non existent dust from Edd’s shoulder and straightened his already straight collar.
Then he grabbed his shirt violently and pulled him down to his level. “You listen here Doctor Death. You obey me. You are my bitch. You do what I say, when I say it. Have you forgotten? Do you want to go through it all again?” Eddy seethed into the doctor’s face. Edd’s expression deepened into something dangerous, into the monster Eddy had created in him. Edd gripped the shorter man’s shirt and lifted him off the ground. Eddy’s eyes went from angry to panicked in a quick second.
“Oh I haven’t forgotten what you did to me Eddy. I will never forget what you have done. And one of these days, mark my words, you will feel every single demon that you have left on my soul. You will feel the utter vengeance that I have been harboring for the last few years. You will one day regret the monster you have created. I will not kill this woman. And that is final.” he placed Eddy back to the ground gently letting go of his shirt. He turned around and untied the brunette woman from the chair. She didn’t move, still too frightened by the actions she just witnessed.
“Did you just threaten me D?” Eddy asked, his voice filled with confusion and fear. Edd shook his head no. “I did not threaten you.” I made a promise. He added the last part to only himself. Eddy laughed nervously. “I’m going to go find that bitch. But first.” there was a loud gun shot from behind Edd. He half expected to feel instant pain but didn’t. He looked over himself to see the exit wound but found none. Then he looked up at the woman in front of him. She was motionless in the chair now blood flowing down her head and her chest. He turned around to see Eddy sticking the gun back in his vest and exiting the room closing the door behind him to leave Edd alone with yet another corpse.
~
Kevin thumbed through the books Edd had in his library. He was growing impatient with the ravenette. He really had to pee and couldn’t retract the stairs by himself. Suddenly the door to the studio creaked open. Kevin made a mad dash to the floor hurting himself in the process and stifling a cry. He peeked over to see Edd. He looked worse for wear, his eyes red and dark, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, blood caked to his forearms. Kevin stood back up slowly. Edd seemed to have forgotten about the auburn man in his library.
Kevin was about to say something when Edd fell to the ground in heavy painful sounding sobs. The sound echoed off the brick walls, causing Kevin to cringe. His heart broke at the site. Kevin watched as Edd hit at the concrete floor. “Son of a bitch!” Edd cried out making Kevin flinch with the emotion Edd had behind his words. “Edd?” the hitman asked leaning against the railing looking down at him.
Edd shot his gaze up at the red head and Kevin almost shrank back down to the floor. His eyes were so blue against the bloodshot red, the tears glowing in the early morning sunlight that came from the windows. Edd stood up off the ground and brushed himself off. “Kevin. I must admit I have forgotten of your presence.” Edd apologized and made his way to the stairs pulling them out for him. Kevin descended the stairs slowly avoiding the man. Edd unbuttoned his shirt and took it off to reveal his bare chest showing skin marred with scars. He turned and began to walk towards the bathroom showing even more scars on his back. “I will be with you shortly. I must decontaminate myself.”
Kevin nodded and gave the dark haired man a wide berth. He had no idea what to think about what he just witnessed. It was terrifying to see. Doctor Death just broke down in front of Kevin. The emotionless murder-machine. Those scars. Kevin sat down on the couch forgetting completely about his need to pee. He stared into nothingness as Edd showered. By the time the ravenette reemerged from the bathroom soaking wet and freshly cleaned Kevin had about a million questions for him. |
3fe6adeaa6544876a552fe76b4863b5a | ['465fd99ea5c2479ab3dd1cb069ad37f1'] | You suddenly sit upright in your bed, just now recalling that there were missing members of the landing party. Suddenly thankful that pajamas weren't an option, you stumble out of your room in search of the captain and co.
You're not sure what time it's supposed to be, but everyone seems to be awake, because they're all on the bridge. Even Spock, much to your surprise, is up and well at his station.
Turning around in his chair, Kirk says, "Ah, here's our guest."
"Chekov is still down on that planet!" you declare loudly, "and you aren't doing anything!"
"Quite the opposite, actually," replies Spock. "Although the captain (quite illogically, I might add) delayed a rescue party in order to await my recovery, we've just sent word to Starfleet command about the possibly hostile civilization on the planet below, and are going to beam down presently."
"Oh," you say, mollified. "Alright then."
Kirk gets out of the captain's chair. "As he said, we have a rescue operation to perform. Sulu, maintain standard orbit. Scotty, take the con. Uhura, tell Doctor McCoy to report to the transporter room immediately. Spock, with me.”
You are the only one without captain's orders to follow, so you decide to follow your own orders. You wait for the elevator to come back up, then you stealthily run to the transporter room.
By the time you reach the transporter room (jeez, you’d think a ship this big would have more than one elevator) the triumvirate had just disappeared in a golden shimmer.
“Damn it!”
The redshirt operating the control board looks up from the buttons. “Are you authorized to be down here?”
His tone doesn’t fool you; you can tell that he’s not actually sure himself. You aren’t going to be intimidated by this guy.
“No authorization is needed, access isn’t restricted or anything. In case you didn’t know, I was recently injured, and I’ve been cleared to wander around the ship, as I’m not up for any kind of work.” Or qualified for any kind of work, you think, but you keep that last bit to yourself.
“Oh, all right. Apologies. Carry on then.” Your authoritative tone seems to have made him more inclined to listen to you. Ha. Wuss.
“Did they just beam down to the planet where Mr. Spock was injured?”
“Yes, they did.”
“Why?”
“Well, it’s a rescue mission, so--”
“No, I meant why them? Shouldn’t you have sent more people?”
His condescending tone returns. “Additional backup will be sent as needed. The captain chose who would beam down initially, so if you’d like to question the decision, you can take it up with him. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
He returns his gaze to the control board and tries to look busy.
_Hmph. Jerk._
14. Chapter 14
You have become bored with baiting the redshirt in the transporter room, so you decide to return to sickbay to say hi to your good friend Bones. After briefly getting lost and almost accidentally walking into the captain’s chambers, you find the correct door and enter.
“Hello?”
No one answers, so you let yourself in.
It really is a pretty neat setup. You inspect the equipment with great care, pretending that you know what the hell you’re looking at.
Suddenly you hear the doors swoosh open. You dive into a side room and try to hide behind a file cabinet. Conveniently enough, there is a person-sized space between two columns, so you duck between them.
Hang on…
One of the drawers has not been closed properly. One of the doctors was probably looking through someone’s file. Maybe it was yours! Do you have a file yet? Time to find out.
You quietly shuffle around the papers, trying to get a good look at the words, when a phrase jumps out at you.
... _pon farr_ …
Ooh. This is interesting.
The file is Spock's.
You are suddenly not bored anymore.
Tearing through the papers, you wonder why the records are on paper in the first place. This curiosity quickly becomes irrelevant in light of what you just stumbled upon in the file.
Doing the math in your head confirms it.
It has been seven (Earth) years since the last time Spock had gone through the Vulcan ‘time of mating’.
You wonder if this is why you were brought here. Not to mate with Spock, of course, but to help save Spock while simultaneously aiding the doctor in realizing his most secret dreams.
You are now on a mission of your own. | a92cdbbfe9f2415199aa556e234cc122 | ['465fd99ea5c2479ab3dd1cb069ad37f1'] | Unfortunately, Bones seems to have seen this too, because the instruments fall from his hands onto the table with a delicate clatter. His hands ball into fists, then unclench, and he stands up suddenly.
Before he can say (or do) anything, you quickly ask, “Doctor, am I all set to leave, or what?”
He whirls around to face you, and slowly, the jealous blaze fades from his eyes. “I think that you can probably go, so long as you don’t hurt yourself any more.”
“Okay, I’ll be going, then. You take care of yourself too, doctor,” you say, tilting your head towards Spock and Chapel.
He grimaces. “You got it.”
“Goodbye, Nurse.”
She doesn’t looks up from Spock, but there is genuine warmth in her voice as she bids you farewell.
10. Chapter 10
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> you accidentally piss off the doctor
The doors open automatically as you approach them and you walk through quickly, hoping to avoid the awkward situation that would certainly ensue in sickbay. You pause for a moment outside the doors, trying to remember through your slightly concussed stupor which way you needed to go in order to get food, when the doors suddenly open behind you and McCoy storms out in a fit of thinly veiled jealousy.
“Hello, Doctor.”
He turns around in surprise, apparently having forgotten that you were there. “Hello, um, do you need anything?”
“Yes, actually. Could you point me in the direction of a cafeteria, or something? I know you guys have to eat sometime… Right, Doctor?
“You can call me McCoy, if you like. And I’ll walk you. I was just heading that way myself.”
“No you weren’t,” you say. “You just needed a reason to get out of there.”
McCoy feigns surprise (rather well, you think, but you still know what’s up) at this accusation. “Now why would I just leave a recovering patient on a whim? As you said, I have to eat sometime, and that sometime is now.”
“Don’t be coy, McCoy. I’m truly not as stupid as I look.”
His shoulders tense defensively. “Could’ve fooled me.”
You walk in silence for a couple more paces, then he sighs.
“Look, I’m sorry, that was outta line.”
“Oh, it’s quite all right, Doctor. You haven’t had any sleep, since you stayed up all night looking after Mr. Spock, and I’m sure it was a tricky operation…” You trail off, unsure whether you should continue.
He chuckles dryly. “You’re telling me. It would have been difficult saving a _human_ in that condition, let alone _Spock-_ -”
You interrupt, deciding to complete your thought from before: “...and also I understand that people get catty and impatient when they’re worried about someone they love.”
He stop walking abruptly. You slow your stride a bit, but you know he'll catch up.
After a few seconds, the quick clicking patter of boots running on linoleum (or whatever the hell this floor is) grows louder next to you and the doctor grabs your shoulders and roughly turns you so you're facing him directly.
"What did you just say?" His eyes are nearly wild, and he emphasizes every syllable through gritted teeth. You try to meet his piercing blue gaze, but you have to look away.
Maybe baiting him like that was not the brightest idea.
_Oh, you think?_
Despite the fact that you really think that his feelings probably need to be addressed, you also really think that he's probably starting to bruise your arms. You decide to drop the subject, at least for now.
"Come on, calm down. Don't hurt the cripple in your care, Doctor, or have you gone completely mad?"
He searches your face for any hint of mockery, then lets go.
"I'm sorry, I-- I don't know what came over me. Perhaps I just need some sleep."
"Yes, sleep is good," you say, "but food is also kind of necessary...."
"All right, let's go get somethin' to eat. Then we'll talk."
11. Chapter 11
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> space sandwich and crew gossip
"....a sandwich."
"What?"
"This is a sandwich."
"Well of course it is, what's you expect?"
"Um," you answer, holding the sandwich up to a light and inspecting it suspiciously, "I dunno. Space food?"
McCoy raises an eyebrow. "Well, I don' know what kinda 'space food' you've been eating over on... wherever you're from, but here on the Enterprise, we eat Earth food."
The mention of your home planet suddenly brings to your attention the fact that you're floating through space right at this very moment. You have to put down your sandwich (which is actually pretty decent) and place your head in your hands until the floor underneath you feels solid again.
"Oh. Did I, uh, say something wrong?"
You look up at the doctor, and reply, "No... did I?"
He looks confused. “All you’ve said was ‘space food’. You’ve not said anything offensive, ‘least not to me--”
“I was asking if I’d said something wrong before, while we were walking,” you interrupt. Deciding to play innocent, you add: “You reacted rather violently, but I can’t think of anything I said that might have upset you that much... Doctor?”
He closes his eyes and puts his face in his hands, like you had done a few moments ago, but he seems more defeated than angry. You say it again, more gently.
“Doctor?”
He looks up and takes a deep breath. “I don’ know why I trust you, but I do, so I am gonna ask you this: how the hell didya know?”
Now it’s your turn to be confused. “How’d I know what?”
He holds your gaze, unblinking. “Please don’t make me say it.”
You sit silently for a moment, like a deer caught in bright azure headlights, but then it clicks.
“Oh. How did I know about you... and Spock?”
“Shhh!” His eyes dart around the room nervously. “Keep your voice down, would you?”
“Sorry!” you whisper. |
dd8e33ca601c4b9f8d1952cad250bcbe | ['46673d65bf4e41b399161b1692fd34f6'] | He looks down to her hand fiddling with the buckle of his belt, and as soon as he says, “I would like that, really,” her other hand joins it and starts to undo it. Her fingers are a little clumsy from behind, however, so he helps her, easily undoing the buckle and pulling the leather away. He already feels aroused from the anticipation. Her fingers lightly stroking him through his pants isn’t helping any, either.
“You little minx,” he murmurs, hissing when she presses her hand against him a little harder. “Do tell me what you had in mind for this evening.”
Tatiana hums, stops teasing him so that she can hug him tightly from behind, and says, “Now, how about you tell me, what do you think of me on my knees?”
A chill rushes up his spine as he thinks of her pretty pink lips around his cock. She’s always so soft: Soft eyes, soft lips, soft tongue, soft fingers. He bites his lip as he thinks of the delightful little tricks she has with her tongue, and how good they feel. Just the thought of her kneeling in front of him, gasping and moaning while she pleasures him, is driving him insane and pushing the stress from his mind. She’s beautiful, precious, pure. He does feel a little bad receiving pleasure while not giving any in return, but if she’s offering…
“I do like that,” he responds quietly. “Mmm. Thank you.”
“Thought so,” Tatiana says a little smugly. Her hands drift back down to the front of his pants. “Can you help me get these open?”
He puts his hands over her own, helping her delicate hands along as she undoes the buttons. A little impatience bubbles within him as she takes her time, lightly dragging her fingernails across the cloth every now and then with a little amused hum. He’s not about to scold her or be so crass as to demand that she stop teasing him immediately when she’s offered to do something so kind for him, so he lets her tease him and have her bit of fun.
After what feels like entirely too long, Tatiana gets his pants open, slides her hand inside, and brushes her fingers against his cock. Zeke gasps at the feeling, grabbing her wrist on instinct, and squeezes her. His lover makes a delighted sound and keeps touching him, featherlight and careful. He grits his teeth as she pulls his length out of his trousers and starts to touch him more firmly, rolling it in her fingers and giving it some experimental tugs that make him feel like he’s on fire.
“Tatiana,” he hisses. “Gods…”
“So fussy already,” she teases. He bites his lip again as she wraps her hand firmly around his half-hard cock, struggling to bite back a moan as she pulls on it harder, with more purpose. A little twist of her wrist just about sends him over the edge; he grabs her wrist again, squeezes it, and desperately tries to move her hand a little faster up and down, but instead, she loosens her grip.
“Go sit on the edge of the bed,” she encourages when he mumbles in dissatisfaction. “I have to fix my hair. You can get yourself ready.”
Zeke would much rather have her keep jerking him off, stirring him into complete arousal, but again, he’s not going to make any unreasonable demands for her. He sits on the edge of the bed, making himself comfortable, and takes himself into hand. He keeps pumping and twisting, panting slightly at the tight feeling building in his core as he gets harder and harder. Closely, he watches his lover as she removes pieces of her clothing, leaving her in just her undergarments, and loosely ties up her hair with a pretty ribbon; loosely, because she knows he likes having some hold. He grunts as his body heats up and the tension in his lower body becomes nearly unbearable as he takes in the sight of her thick thighs and large bust, and can’t help himself from starting to lightly rock his hips into his own hand.
“You’re getting worked up,” Tatiana notes as she turns towards him. She looks too sweet, running her fingers through her hair as she gazes at him with an equal amount of lust to what he is feeling. She steps closer to him, clearly too aroused herself to bother with any more teasing, and kneels between his legs. Zeke pulls his hand away from his cock, fisting the quilt in his hands. His heart picks up its pace, hammering at the sight of her thick lashes and plump pink lips. She’s wearing lipstick; something a peachy-pink, one of her favorite colors to paint on herself.
“Please,” he mumbles in a tight voice. He grips the quilts harder, pretending that it’s her hair he’s clutching for dear life. “I’m about ready to die without you, Tatiana.”
“Flattery,” she murmurs, eyeing his thick, throbbing cock in front of her face. He watches the way her lips press, how her face flushes. She reaches up, grabbing the base of it, and he hisses at just that tiny touch as she lowers it closer to her mouth.
She leans in, putting her other hand on his knee, and pushes a small kiss to his tip, her lips plush and moist. A jolt goes through his body instantly; he makes a little gasping sound. Her tongue slips out immediately after the kiss, swirling around his head with a delicate finesse that he’ll never get enough of. Zeke leans back, panting, and fists the blankets as she sweeps her tongue over him again.
“Oh, gods, I love you,” he whispers thickly. | 0a224fff16fa47fcb07fd01da3af10a2 | ['46673d65bf4e41b399161b1692fd34f6'] | When she comes back to the room, the tray of food in her hands, he’s sitting at his desk still. It’s been cleaned and organized; the center of it looks quite clean, save for one or two papers and his inkwell. It doesn’t look like he’s working, however. He’s leaned back in the chair, legs crossed, resting his head against his fingers. Tatiana shuts the door behind her, moves towards him, and then he speaks.
“Could you leave the tray over there, sweetheart?” Zeke asks.
Tatiana pauses, gripping the tray awkwardly, and then tilts her head. “I can bring it over there, no problem.”
“Please leave it over there.” It sounds more like an order this time, spoken firmly and clearly. Tatiana shudders, then freezes when he says. “But you, come over here.”
She puts the tray down on a wardrobe near the door, shifts awkwardly on her feet, and then moves forward. She doesn’t look that good—she’s wearing a plain nightgown, a wool coat, and her hair is tied in a messy, low ponytail. If she had known this was on the agenda for the night, she would’ve put on some of the lingerie she brought with her, maybe done a little makeup, brushed her hair some more.
Tatiana hovers behind him, hands pressed in front of her. She twiddles her thumbs, feeling a blush spread over her skin, and looks to the upper corner of the room. Zeke is still quiet, staring at the paper on his desk. He doesn’t look at her, but after a moment, he uncrosses his legs, scoots the chair out a little, and pats his lap.
“Please, sit,” he says.
A small thrill goes through her, yet she swallows and says, “But, you have to-”
Zeke pats his lap again, much more firmly, and it once again sounds like he’s giving an order when he says, “Tatiana, come here.”
She does. Still embarrassed at her appearance, she hikes up the skirt of her nightgown and shuffles so she’s standing in front of him. Zeke looks up at her with his dark, burning eyes; she watches them leisurely rove over her body. When he’s done, he sighs, removes his head from his hand, and takes her skirts from her, dragging a hand up her thigh and holding them up while she puts her hands on his shoulders and perches herself in his lap.
“May we?” Zeke drags his callused, warm fingers over the smooth skin of her chubby thigh. He’s looking into her eyes, but she sees them drift inevitably down to her ample chest. “If we could, I’d like to-”
Tatiana tightens her grip on his shoulders, squeezing him, then leans in. Zeke swallows, then hums, suddenly looking a little flustered himself as she pushes her hips harder against his lap. She rocks back and forth against him a few times, satisfied when she feels him getting hard beneath her, and assumes it’s an appropriate response to his question.
Zeke cups the back of her head, pushes her towards him, and parts his lips as she kisses him. His lips are warm and rough, but pliable and eager against her. He tilts his head and sighs, then shifts into a slight moan as she leans further in and kisses him harder. Tatiana can feel the barest trace of a 5 o’clock shadow on his jaw, a pleasant sensation against her skin. She reaches up to cup his face, swiping her thumbs over his cheeks, and swipes her tongue over his bottom lip.
He grunts when she pushes her hips against him again, breaking the kiss to hiss through his teeth. He leans back for a moment, plants his hand on her shoulder, and watches with a so-slightly dazed expression as she rolls her hips repeatedly. His hips buck eagerly in tiny little motions, but Tatiana feels his erection more when he does it. She bites her lip as she sits firmly against it, grinding down, and lets waves of pleasure wash over her as she stimulates herself.
“Vixen,” he breathes, and then he captures her face in his hands and pushes their lips together again.
Tatiana groans as he kisses her more forcefully, prodding his tongue past her lips. Their teeth bump together awkwardly, and she feels him wince in obvious embarrassment. Tatiana moans rather deliberately and reaches up to wind her fingers in his hair, and it seems to put him at ease. The kiss continues, their lips sliding eagerly against the others. Zeke nips at her so slightly, just enough for it to be a gentle pressure, and sweeps his tongue over the offended area when she whimpers.
He breaks away suddenly, panting and sweating, and awkwardly reaches down between them. Equally out of breath, Tatiana looks down, and surely enough, finds a sizable bulge in his trousers that looks rather uncomfortable. Carefully, she shimmies back on his thighs, panting as she watches him open his trousers and fish around inside. She leans in to give his neck attention, peppering his hot flesh with kisses while Zeke pulls his cock out; she hears a groan from him that indicates to her that he’s done just that, and finally relieved himself from the confines of his clothing.
Tatiana gives Zeke’s neck one more kiss, sucking at his skin until she’s sure it will leave a bruise, and then pulls back. Her lover reaches up, a faraway look on his face, and pushes her hair away from her face in an affectionate gesture. She looks down, biting her lip, and feels a pulse in her core at the sight of his cock, rock hard and angled upwards towards her, already welled up with a small bulb of precum at his tip.
“Do you want to do it here?” she asks him breathlessly. “We could also go to the bed, or-”
“Here,” he gasps. “Please.” |
a2881f197417401f83713ccca98eafbc | ['46833b71b3a84821a3f034bc13f801f2'] | A more particular lover may have been vexed by the wizard’s fickle spontaneity, but while it took a few months for Kravitz to become accustomed to Taako’s idiosyncrasies, he learned not only to tolerate but also to cherish the inconsistencies that came with loving Taako. Work as a reaper was routine at best, more often tedious, and coming home to something different every night, always a little off kilter, often a little slapdash, made Kravitz fall more and more in love with Taako where others might have found fault in his antics. There were nights where his entrance was met with the aroma of some amazing concoction that Taako had dreamed up during his afternoon nap and had to make a reality by dinnertime, nights where the wizard would barely look up from his spell book, or school paperwork, or cookbook manuscript to say a curt hello and offer a peck on the cheek; there were nights when, before Kravitz had shut the door on his way in, Taako was on his knees, unzipping his boyfriend’s pants as the reaper knotted his hand deftly into his long, blond hair, and nights where Taako wasn’t there at all—no note, no answer on the Stone of Farspeech, window open and curtain flapping about in the wind.
Those were the only kind of nights that Kravitz had a problem with. Not even the nights where Taako stumbled in drunk, heels dangling from his finger, after hanging out with former members of the IPRE without thinking to invite Death along, or the nights where all the lights in the house would be out, and there was no Taako to speak of, only an elf-shaped ball in the middle of the bed, burrowed under the covers, which could sometimes, but not always, be coaxed out with promises of peanut-butter cups and cuddles. After the third or fourth occasion of Taako completely disappearing at night without warning or explanation, Taako and Kravitz had their first big argument; Taako needed to be alone sometimes, and while Kravitz could respect that without needing explanations or apologies, what he did need was to know that Taako was safe.
Taako couldn’t understand how Kravitz could be worried about him being off by himself from time to time when he had survived for decades on his own without any debonair angels of death waltzing in to save him from unsavory situations. Kravitz couldn’t understand why Taako couldn’t just leave a brief note or give a simple one-word answer on the Stone of Farspeech just to give him peace of mind that he was still breathing. That was the only night that the Grim Reaper and Taako from TV didn't share a bed since their cohabitation had begun, and Kravitz found himself brooding on their balcony until the sun rose instead of pressing kisses into the hair and neck and ears and collarbone he worshipped.
The next night, when Kravitz walked into the kitchen after a hellish shift, during which every word and look exchanged the night before had played on repeat in his mind, he found a glossy black box with a burgundy velvet ribbon tied around it sitting on the counter. No tag, but the gift wrap choices showed him it was definitely meant for him to open. Inside was a simple gold ring, its prongs holding a round-cut garnet, and next to it was a gold bracelet containing another garnet, this one in a long emerald-cut and set in the middle of the otherwise unadorned piece of jewelry. They were understated but classic, much more his style than Taako’s. As Kravitz reached down and absentmindedly ran a finger diagonally across the ring’s deep-red stone, he saw the movement mirrored by a white glimmering streak that shot diagonally across the face of the bracelet’s gem in the exact same motion as Kravitz's finger. It mimicked a shooting star in appearance, and Taako emerged from around the corner, walking tentatively up to Kravitz. Clearly, he had been watching Kravitz the whole time from the next room, weighing the situation before deciding to make an approach.
The elf filled the spaces between the reaper’s cold, dark fingers with his own, and pressed his body into the embrace that Death offered. “The ring’s for you.” He reached over, pulling the enchanted trinket from the box and slipping it onto one of the fingers that was moments ago interwoven with his own. Then, he draped the bracelet over his own thin wrist, gesturing to Kravitz to fasten the small golden clasp, which he did with ease. “When you slide your finger across the face of one stone, it shows up on the other,” Taako said, modeling the magic for Kravitz once again, a white line crossing over Kravitz’s stone this time in response to Taako’s touch on the bracelet. “It’s a simple spell, but I thought it would be useful for when we’re apart and can’t speak to one another. When you want to know if I’m okay, just send me a shooting star, and I’ll send one back to let you know that everything is peaches and cream, babe.” | f7b641e0d70145d8b8f89bd2e55b9efb | ['46833b71b3a84821a3f034bc13f801f2'] |
Surprises
It was hard to surprise Taako. No, really, the elf had seen a _lot_ in his travels through the cosmos; talking skeletons, mushroom kingdoms, jellyfish that contained galaxies, umbrellas with the souls of family members trapped inside… he had even seen someone eat a unicorn dick. If you named it, Taako had probably seen it. Besides that, he had been around the block a few times as a seasoned adventurer, whose profession’s unofficial motto seemed to be, “Expect the unexpected.” Nothing really phased him anymore, not even the twists and turns that came along with dating the Grim Reaper.
Kravitz, who had seen some shit, too, as the harbinger of Death, and whose persona should have been consequently unshakeable, was as easy to surprise as a baby playing peek-a-boo. The keen senses he had acquired as an immortal made him hyper-sensitive to stimuli around him, and he was known by his friends to jump at the drop of a hat, or a frying pan, or an umbrastaff, or a shoe, or whatever had slipped “accidentally” out of Taako’s hands, landing with a loud clamor or crash. That made living with Taako, the most uncharacteristically clumsy elf he had ever met, an interesting adventure in and of itself, especially since Taako was not always the kindest lover when it came to taking Kravitz by surprise.
The mischievous wizard never let an opportunity to catch Kravitz off guard pass him by, especially when he could superfluously use magic to enact some over-the-top, elaborate prank. He loved to turn himself invisible and creep up behind the reaper before letting loose a raucous “boo!”, causing Kravitz to jump out of his skin quite literally and go bones on his boyfriend. Taako was also known to use mockingbird gum to replicate the commanding voice of the Raven Queen while Kravitz was in the shower, and to blink out of rooms when Kravitz wasn’t looking, sending his SO into a frenzied search for him. No matter how many times Taako tried these and other goofs, his poor, helpless Kravitz always fell for them. When the hijinks were over and Kravitz had been reduced to a huddled mess on the floor or a cloaked skeleton with its mouth agape, Taako would collapse in laughter, and without fail say, “Looks like I scared you… to Death!” before continuing to erupt in peals of laughter. Luckily, Kravitz had a good sense of humor and a seemingly limitless love for Taako; the sudden shot of adrenaline and the deep blush that would spread across his cheeks when he realized he had been bested yet again were worth the reward that came at the end, when Taako wiped tears of laughter from his eyes and said, “Aww, come ‘ere, babe,” and caught the lips of his scaredy-cat lover with his in apology.
That bout of laughter and the sweet exchange that followed was exactly what Taako had in mind when he decided to surprise Kravitz by arriving home from his book tour early. He had been all around Faerûn for the past two weeks, selling and signing copies of his latest culinary page-turner: _Spicy Spells and Cantrip Cuisine with Taako, from TV_. His chain of appearances in bookshops and libraries across the realm had finished that afternoon with an event on the Poplar Isles, but Taako wasn’t expected home until the following day, since there were no commuter trains or ferries back to the mainland until the morning. But, the ever-resourceful chef had been able to hitch a ride on a fishing boat in exchange for a few seafood-seasoning secrets, and, with a little magic, he could easily summon Garyl and gallop on home before his handsome reaper went to bed.
The surprise wasn’t just to arrive home early, though. Of course, that wasn’t enough. Taako envisioned himself sneaking up to the front door of their house before kicking it open with the sexy high-heeled purple boots which were currently locked into Garyl’s stirrups; they laced all the way up his thighs and would be the perfect complement to him yelling, “Kravy, I’m ho-ome!” in an on-point Ricky Ricardo cadence when he marched in unannounced to startle his sweet lover. He giggled to himself on Garyl’s back as he thought of the reaper’s face, all afright and adorable upon his entry, and his smile lingered at the thought of the embrace that would come afterwards, and Kravitz kissing the soft skin on the inside of his thighs while unlacing his man-killer boots, and all the delights of the bedroom that came with being apart for two weeks which were sure to follow.
“What are you laughing about, boss?” Garyl asked as he trotted.
“Nothing,” Taako said, but he still let out a few stray giggles before charging the phantom steed beneath him. “Onward, Garyl! There’s an extra serving of oats in this for you tonight if we make good time.” The next part, he only said to himself; “I’ve got a boneman to bone, and I’m barely holding myself together as is.” |
fd2f8678a09c47918f513bab017d07da | ['46890e4f9fe2413199fce68edeee0009'] | And there she was, almost like clockwork. “Commander - Beth - how’s it going?” he asked, always having to correct himself. Truthfully, it was almost fun to say her name that way. Commander Beth was so much less intimidating than Commander Shepard, and he was still giving the woman he reported to the respect she was due. He figured it was win-win, and she never called him out on it.
“It’s not too bad. We picked up that thief on the Citadel today. I think she’s the last,” she said, leaning against the rails.
“Good, because I’m not sure how many more we can hold. I’ll tell you, crew quarters on this ship might be nicer than on the old Normandy, but it’s no better when I’m sharing a bunk with Ken from Engineering. I’m not sure when the last time he washed his feet was, but it can’t have been recent.”
“I’ll be sure to let him know you said so, Joker,” she said with a laugh. “What was it he told me about you not too long ago? That anyone who views that much porn really needs to see Chakwas about it?”
“Yeah, yeah, Ken doesn’t know crap about that, but I see EDI’s been ratting me out again - while we’re on the subject of embarrassing habits, Commander - Beth - how are your fish doing? Killed any more lately?” he asked.
“Not a single one - though one did I go missing - I think maybe another one ate it. Tali said they do that!” She looked appalled.
“Didn’t you have fish growing up as a kid?” he asked, looking at her face. Man, if he could sell a picture of it right now, he’d make a fortune. To think, Reapers and Collectors and gods-knew-what-else and this woman faced it with a mask on, but give her cannibalistic fish and her jaw hits the floor. He grinned.
“Joker, I grew up on a ship with my mom, for the most part. Wasn’t a lot of room for fish tanks on old Alliance vessels - I’ve never really had a pet before,” she admitted with a small smile.
His grin dimmed a bit, and he felt like his heart was cracking, just a bit. Savior of the whole damn galaxy, and fish - FISH - were her first pets? “At least get a hamster or something, Beth,” he said. “It’s just - less pathetic that way!”
“Joker,” she said, looking a lot less wistful and a lot more cynical - much more like her usual self, in fact, “what do you think would happen to the hamster in 4.7 days?”
He thought about it and shook his head sadly. “Never mind. Keep the fish.”
6. Housewarming
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> For Heidi...
She’s settled into her new place when they throw her a housewarming, and everyone is there. It’s so strange to be planetside, but the doctors were adamant: no more space travel until she’s fully healed. The Alliance has effective grounded her and she’s got nowhere to go, so she buys a small house and pretends to be surprised when they throw her the party (Kasumi is terrible at keeping secrets from her).
There are some gifts that are typical. Samara provides her with cooking essentials. “You are entering your matron years, my friend. It is time to leave the recklessness of the maiden behind you,” as she bestows the gift onto her lap and a gentle kiss to her forehead. Wise words, too bad she’ll probably ignore them.
Tali’s ‘emergency induction ports’ are perhaps the best gift. “In case you need to get really, really drunk some night, Shepard.” The bag of straws is so large she doubts it will fit into any of her drawers, but that’s okay.
The last box is from her pilot and the box is fairly large. She raises her eyebrows at him, wondering why he’s giving her a box with holes in the sides. “Just don’t shake it, Commander.” He doesn’t say the rest of her unofficial title, and it stings a bit.
The ribbon is red and silky, tied in a giant bow, securing the lid in place. “It’s going to die before she even opens the box.” That must have been Traynor. She pulls the ribbon off and the lid pops off. Out bounces a furry creature she could swear was a dog.
“Je - Joker,” she says, looking down at the ball of energy and fur in her lap. “You got me a dog?”
“I told you that fish for your first pet was just pathetic, Commander. Just - try to remember to feed it more often than every 4.7 days.”
Everyone laughs. By now, they’ve all heard the story of How Shepard Stopped Killing Her Fish, and the phrase “4.7 days” had been tossed around as an estimate of everything from how long it would take dinner to be ready to how long the war with the Reapers would last. It is the Normandy’s favorite punchline.
She laughs good-naturedly with the others. The dog barks up at her. “Trust me, Commander,” he says in an undertone, “I know what you’re going through right now - the dog will help.”
There are multiple questions flying around, but the most often repeated one is what is its name, and he waits until he has their full attention.
“His name is Mordin.” | afff38eae8fe45e7a89dab6fb8976da3 | ['46890e4f9fe2413199fce68edeee0009'] |
The Redemption of Anakin Skywalker (before he's born)
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK, LINK.
* Inspired by LINK by LINK, LINK.
> This chapter is more preview/proof that I'm actually doing what I said I would in reference to this fic than anything else. Tags are - utterly incomplete at the moment. Thank you both for letting me play in your sandbox. I can't promise to put everything back exactly where I found it, but I can hope it's at least fun to find out where they land? First line of the fic is directly quoted from the last line of the original authors' fic. First chapter title is same as their fic title.
_“Only three sides? Mandalorian politics are muddied at best,” Micah admitted._
Anakin had to laugh at that, nodding to give the Master acknowledgment of the admittedly true statement. “So they are, Master Micah, so they are.” In his mind, he could see his former Master, flustered and frustrated, and yet still so in love with the sharp-featured, sharp-tongued Duchess. If he arranged interference now, would Satine Kryze still become the ruler of the New Mandalorians? He was beginning to see how putting together a cohesive timeline of what he knew, and when he knew it was coming, would be more than useful. Exposing his Sith Master, before the old – nope, not thinking those words in the Temple – gained any sort of real power, would be useless, particularly since he didn’t know who Plageius even was, let alone when the being, of whatever species, had died – most likely at Sidious’ hands.
Micah, thanks to Plo’s strong presence in their bond, picked up the shape of Anakin’s thoughts, and nodded. “Getting you a datapad is high on my priority list, Skywalker. Before that can happen, however, you’re going to need to address the Council. Given the likely sensitive nature of your information and identity, the full Council will not hear your briefing. A select few of our members, including myself, as the being that encountered you first, will be awaiting us.”
Even nearly two decades of serving his Sith Master had not given Anakin less fear of facing the Council, even a reduced Council; the cringe was instinctive, and did not go unnoticed by Micah. “The Darkness that clings to you, Skywalker – I fear much of it must have been our own doing, if you still fear the Council so much. If it would ease your mind, I could possibly request that those selected for this briefing be members of the Council you either do not know or those from your own time that you are most comfortable with?”
Anakin shook his head; if they did that, there would probably be fewer members than were needed. “If I can request that Master Windu is not a part of this briefing, though he can know, from someone else, what information I have, that should be enough.”
Micah nodded, and took the rebuke to his old friend and near-agemate with simple acceptance. Mace was not the most flexible of their number, and even his short acquaintance with Anakin Skywalker was enough to tell him that Mace would have had to face too many of his own faults and failings in this young man. “Master Windu is not on-planet at this time, so he would not have been included, regardless, nor is he currently a member of the Council, though I gather that will come to pass - and while his ability to see shatterpoints would have been useful to us all, it is obvious to me that his presence would be highly detrimental. I foresee that much of what you have to tell us will not flatter my old friend.”
Anakin nodded, but didn’t condemn Master Windu; to be honest, he wasn’t sure what he thought of the future Master of the Order, but with the feelings simply thinking of the man inspired, he was afraid that his darker impulses might come into play.
“Peace, my young friend,” Micah said, laying a gentle hand on Anakin’s arm, where his hand had formed a tight fist without his knowledge. “Your anger would seem to be something that a Sith would covet.”
The rebuke was mild, certainly more than any he had ever received from any Council member, and stung all the more for it. How many times had his own, beloved (once, before a Sith got into his head and twisted all of that adoration and near-hero-worship into something sick and twisted, bitter like the rind of a pallie in the back of his mouth) Master gently swatted him down, only for Anakin himself to hear only the criticism, and none of the implied praise that he could so clearly hear in this Master’s voice, without the twisted Dark web that even now he could sense overlaying his own thoughts? His penance, his redemption, at the hands of his child had washed away much of Sidious’ influence on his thoughts, but the triggers were still there – all it would take would be a single, drawn-out, exasperated ‘An-a-kin', in that patient (and fond, he needed to stop remembering Obi-Wan as the monster that had cut him down when he should have been at the height of his power, who hadn’t the decency to kill him, who had left him, trapped, for two decades in that suit, and remember that, whatever his flaws in expression, Obi-Wan had loved him) tone, and he was concerned (afraid) he’d snap. He closed his eyes and slid sideways into the Force, letting it wash him clean of the overwhelmingly complicated emotions that were attached to his memories of Obi-Wan. As Vader, he hadn’t cared to meditate, but the suit had required maintenance on a fairly frequent basis – likely a deliberate design flaw – and even in his chamber, he’d needed the weightless, painless existence in the Force that only meditation could give him. More than twenty years later (or Force-only-knew how many before), he was capable of meditating with an ease the him that had last inhabited this body (or one that had some semblance to it) would have envied.
When he was something resembling calm, he opened his eyes and let the Force flow away from him. “Thank you for your forbearance, Master Micah.”
Micah could feel Plo’s interest in their guest spiking, and shunted his bondmate to the side, gently, of course. Plo could meet Skywalker in time, but he had a mission to focus on and should not be spending so much of his attention away from what was the here and now for him. Plo took the correction with a huff of laughter down their bond, and retreated.
Watching Skywalker release his frustration and anger had been – almost overwhelming, in truth. The sheer amount of power at his disposal was unsettling; in Micah’s mind, no one being, no matter what their life experience, should have that much power. To have been able to tap into it from his youth, as Skywalker clearly had given the few memories he’d been able to sense, could only have led him astray without any but the most compassionate and centered Jedi, and the little that Skywalker had shared, thus far, indicated that his own entrance into the Temple, overaged and attached to his mother, saddled with a broken barely-Knighted Obi-Wan Kenobi...Micah shied away from it.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I thank you all for your forbearance with me - my knowledge of the EU, unless it pertains to the Knights of the Old Republic Era - is limited to what I have read in fic. Truthfully, I've not even read any of the novelizations of the prequels that are so popular. My actual, working knowledge of all levels of canon comes from fic and the actual films. If I screw up, it's totally unintentional, but - depending on how important my screw-up is to the plot of what I'm writing, I may not alter it. Sorry, not sorry? |
eb559ff1a22b4a7bbec85d9b5b6f8b26 | ['468cd875b2eb4235963ac2e6dfddbab4'] | Everything going around her was blurred and disorienting. She saw something, a fish thing, come up from behind and take Martha. The young, blonde, daughter of the Doctor picked something up while Rose followed two instincts in one go: running from her while trying to protect and save Martha. There was an explosion, and Rose felt everything around her burn hot before it all went black.
* * *
"You've sealed off the tunnel! Why did you do that?" The Doctor demanded of his daughter, and if Donna wasn't so worried about Rose and Martha she'd have found it all kinda funny.
"They were trying to kill us," The daughter replied just as a teenager would, but it still wasn't funny enough to actually laugh.
Especially when the Doctor's eyes got that dark look in them. "They took my friend, and my partner could have saved her if you had just held on a moment longer."
"Your friend and partner were collateral damage. At least you've still go her, he lost all his men. I'd say you came out ahead."
The Doctor grinned without joy, teeth bared as he laughed, shaking his head. "No, no, you don't understand. When I say partner, I mean mate. And I'm telling you right now referring to her as collateral damage…."
"Doctor," Donna stopped him, terrified as to what he could do to the girl in front of him as the young thing slowly started to back away. Donna reached into her pocket and handed him her phone. "Call Rose. Super phones, right? So they should work still."
The Doctor took it, turning away abruptly and moving toward the newly formed wall.
As he did, Donna stepped up to the girl who quickly tucked her fear away. "His partner's name is Rose. Their friend's name is Martha. They're people, good people, and you can't just disregard a life like that."
The girl shrugged, about to say something when the little boy who was leading the charge and forced the Doctor to procreate with a machine raised his gun at Donna. A beat later, the Doctor was beside her, tucking her phone into her pocket before putting himself between her and the muzzle.
"You two don't make sense. No guns, no marks, no fight in you." The little boy said. "I'm taking you to General Cobb."
"No problem," The Doctor said. "We'll go willingly, just lower the gun and lead the way."
The little boy, because that's exactly how Donna saw him, considered this for a moment before nodding once. He lowered the gun, turned, and gestured for them all to follow.
The tunnels seemed maze-like, but Donna had noticed a few headings with numbers over certain areas. She thought about mentioning it to the Doctor, but she could tell by the set of his shoulders and the fists at his sides that anything not absolutely crucial to getting Rose and Martha back wasn't going to be heard. Not yet anyway.
Sighing, she noticed the girl coming up beside her, looking wearily at the Doctor and maybe a bit guilty.
"I'm Donna," She introduced herself, trying to relax the girl. "What's your name?"
She shrugged. "Don't know, it's not been assigned yet." She replied.
Assigned. Not given, assigned, like it's a task. "Well if you don't know that, what do you know?" Donna asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.
"How to fight," The girl replied bluntly.
Yep, she didn't want to know.
"The machine must embed military history and tactics but no name," The Doctor said with unmasked disgust. "She's a generated anomaly."
"Generated Anomaly." Donna repeated, rolling the words around in her head. "Genny-rated." She smiled, looking to the girl. Yep, she was just young and cutesy-looking enough to pull it off. "Well, what about Jenny?"
"Jenny," The girl considered. "Yeah, I like that."
"What do you think, 'Dad'?" Donna asked, partially teasing. But since it was him who said she was his daughter ….
"Good as anything, I suppose." He said with detachment.
"Not what you call a natural parent, are you?" She mused.
"They stole a tissue sample at gunpoint and processed it. It's not what I call natural parentage." He retorted as she came and fell in step with him.
"Rubbish! My friend Nerys fathered twins with a turkey baster, don't bother her." Donna countered. "A child's a child."
"Oh, Nerys? Same woman who you thought paid me to kidnap you on your wedding day? Sounds like an excellent woman to copy parenting skills from. I'm sorry, Donna, but you can't extrapolate a relationship from a biological accident. Just 'cause I share certain physiological traits with simian primates doesn't make me a monkey's uncle, does it?" He countered.
"I'm not a monkey," Jenny protested, pushing past them, stopping to look between them. "Or a child." She added, crossing her arms and narrowing her gaze for a moment before turning abruptly around.
And oh, wasn't that just a bit scary. Because Donna found everything about it very familiar and very un-Doctor like.
Before she could mention it, they reached a giant room that teamed with human life, reminding Donna of an ant hill and completely distracting her from Jenny's mannerisms.
"So where are we? What planet is this?" The Doctor asked, his tone all business as he took in his surroundings.
"Messaline." The little boy leader replied. "Well, what's left of it."
Donna looked around, ignoring the seeming constant announcement of the dead listed by generation. She took in the high ceilings with it's ornate design, noted a platform on the other end that looked distinctly like a stage. The seats stacked against the walls to make space.
"This is a theater." She realized out loud.
"Maybe they're doing _Miss Saigon_ ," The Doctor said sarcastically before moving over to a much older man, dressed in fatigues like everyone else. Unlike everyone else, though, he carried the weight of authority. | bf037183068c45da9f7a3c5fdfd87eec | ['468cd875b2eb4235963ac2e6dfddbab4'] | The weight of the statement had Aurora rear back, looking up to Ron, then Draco. He shook his head, looking down at Harry, and Aurora forced her urge to worry aloud about their families as Harry continued.
“He’s going to check the others. He’s going to find the locket gone. Then the ring.”
“But he’ll think the diadem is safe.” She said.
“Unless he goes back to the school.” Ron said, a slight tremor in his voice.
“We can’t worry about that yet.” Draco said.
“Malfoy’s right,” Harry said, climbing back to his feet. “But maybe we should pack up what we don’t need, be ready. I’ve got a feeling things are going to start happening quickly.”
**March 3rd, 1998**
———————————S——————————
The scene gave him pause as he walked into the ballroom of Malfoy manor. Lucius was shaking, Bellatrix was half curled into a ball on the floor, and between the entrance and the spot where the Dark Lord stood facing his throne, there was a pile of bodies. Goblins, one, maybe two wizards. All of them Gringotts employees. Chaos and uncertainty, indeed. But Severus hadn’t been counting on the whole lot of them being brought forth and murdered.
He strode around the body’s, then dropped on bended knee where the floor was still clean. “My Lord.” He said, bowing his head, readying his strongest shields.
“Severus,” he said. “How is it that you are here and the Carrows are not yet?”
Severus frowned. “It is the privilege of being Headmaster, my Lord, that I am able to get to you much quicker. I did not know the Carrows were summoned as well.”
The Dark Lord nodded, then looked down at the wand in his hands.
Severus’ blood ran cold. That was Albus Dumbledore’s wand, but if that were true, then….
He swallowed thickly, tucking away this new-found information and fear.
“There has been an unfortunate development, Severus.” The Dark Lord said, finally turning toward him. He seemed taken aback, and then smiled in a disturbingly affectionate way. “Rise, Severus.” He beckoned, and Severus obeyed him, slowly and cautiously.
Just as he got to his feet, his deputies came marching in, nearly tripping on the Goblin bodies before finally kneeling down instead of trying to logically moving around the corpses.
Voldemort glanced at them, but otherwise paid them little attention.
“Severus, it’s come to attention that some important items have been stolen, perhaps even tampered with.” The Dark Lord lovingly caressed the wand he’d pilfered from a corpse. More footsteps, and Theo Nott came in to the room, not sparing a glance at the still kneeling deputies, and then came around the carnage to Severus’ side. He knelt, his face impassive, and waited for instruction.
Voldemort glanced at him, but much like the Carrows he did not command Theo to rise.
“I want word sent to me the moment, the very moment Harry Potter steps foot in Hogwarts, on its grounds, or anywhere in the vicinity.”
“My Lord, forgive me, but I thought that was always to be the case.” Severus said, glancing at Bellatrix who had shifted about, no longer curling in on herself but watching.
“It was, yes.” The Dark Lord agreed. “But now it’s much more imperative. He’s slipped from my fingers too often, and I believe he is behind the destruction of my most treasured creations. If there is even a whisper of his whereabouts, I must know at once.” He looked down at the Goblins. “He has someone smart with him. Someone who knew to disguise themselves as yourself and Lucius. For while the Goblins, the guard, all seemed to believe you were there, Lucius’ mind says he was not.” Red eyes met Severus’ black ones. “You were not there, were you?”
His mind was invaded, and he let the Dark Lord in, keeping the bad behind his walls, showing him his regular routine. For fun, he even showed the contemplation of going to Gringotts, only to be interrupted by the siblings. Any memory with Lucius was heavily inspected, but he refused to bear his visit with the blond before the Dark Lord.
Withdrawing, the Dark Lord nodded. “It is as was expected. The Goblins lied.”
The Dark Lord paced, running his hand over the wand’s knots.
“I want Potter.” He said, slowly turning to walk through the carnage. Blood stained his pale, bare feet, and the snake slithered out from behind the throne. “This needs to end. If anyone at the school knows where he is, if he somehow finds his way there, I want to know immediately.” He ignored the chorus of ascent from those present. He, instead, hissed at the snack, clearly speaking to it. She launched herself at the wizard, and they both disappeared with a pop.
“Does your daughter know where Potter is?” Bellatrix asked, getting to her shaky feet.
“How would she?” Severus asked.
“Because she’s been with him the whole step of the way. A traitor, just like her dear ol’ Daddy.” She attempted to saunter over, but her balance was hard to come by. “I could get it out of her. Or you, I don’t particularly care which.”
“Bella, Potter has been on the run. My daughter has been in Hogwarts, where she should be.”
Bella scowled, then limped away, mumbling something about needing to check on her husband.
Severus turned to the still-kneeling Carrows.
“Go. You’re needed back at the school. As the Dark Lord said, he wants Potter. This would give him the chance to slip in.”
The Carrows rose, then left the ballroom.
“Sir?” Theo asked, and Severus looked to the young man.
“We shall discuss your… position at a later time. Go.” He said, and Theo nodded, leaving the ballroom as well.
“What are you up to, Severus?” Lucius asked, carefully coming around the carnage that covered the floor of his once-home.
“I’m merely following the Dark Lord’s plans.” He said with an air of nonchalance. |
adfe24f2680149b995302263f7a16455 | ['468f0e4419584fe1bb3d344f4e65321b'] | Could I ever carry any resemblance of importance to someone one day? Will I ever find happiness, comfort or even the slightest satisfaction in life? I felt myself falling into my minds snare, or rather, I became captured by the mysteries of what would make me want to live. What would give me the right or a reason to live on this planet. Rather, am I truly suppose to be here? Shards of sadness began to penetrate my soul as I felt myself sinking into an unreachable place. I felt as if I had become captured and tied down by these fresh emotions. Why did I even decide to move to England? I could have ended it all that day, that one glorious thoughtful day. Why did I hesitate? Why didn't I just jump? Death seems so peaceful. Oh death, where is your sting? I have no fear of such thing, no, I would embrace it. If I ever came face to face with my fate, I would let it take me willingly. That is the day, I dream will come soon. Why should I think, when I could just do it? I could end my life right here, right now! But I could have just done it then as well. Standing before my fall, the absolute decision before the final crime. Would it be such a crime or a sin to take my own life? If my life was indeed given and is seen as a gift, then perhaps I should have just jumped and embraced the fact that this life was mine to take. I felt myself ease and sink lower and lower, drowning in these roaring thoughts. Why should I let myself live? Why did I decide to give life one more chance even though I know what the outcome is going to be? Hope? Desperation?
It was not very long till I realized that it would be only a few hours before sundown. I began to head into town to see if I could get some food. Though, recovering from these kinds of episodes can take a while. As I wondered my way towards town, my mind still pondered on many things. Though, it did make time pass. Soon, I was embraced by a small town, furthermore, I did not have to walk very far to find a lovely petite store that carried a generous amount of staple foods. The building was old, with ivy's creeping up and around the building. The entrance was inviting, with lilac trees soaring around the door which gave an attractive fragrance. Walking in I was able to find what I needed, I grabbed some fruits, rice, beans, teas, a small assortment of veggies that would last a few days and of course, some water. I even bought a small pack of laundry pods for laundry day tomorrow. I approached the cashier at the front of the store, of course, she greeted me with a warm smile. She was well aged with a head full of hair that was as white as salt and had a face full of wrinkles. The one youthful thing about this woman was the sparkle she carried in her dark brown eyes.
"So, you must be new to town, I haven't seen you around here before!" The lady at the till said as she welcomed me.
"Uhm Yes, just passing through." "I see." The older lady started to scan in my groceries. "Unless you are hiring? Or do you know anyone that is hiring?" The lady looked at me thoughtfully,
"I don't think anyone here is hiring." she paused for a few moments "Ah! But I do know someone from a couple towns west! He just opened up a new bakery. I know the owner but you can just say that Ainsley sent you. You will want to ask for Thomas. It's a nice town over there."
"Thank you so much, ma'am." I bowed and paid for my groceries.
"Good luck, dear! And don't wear such a long face, will you? Just smile and you will do just fine." She reached over and pinched my cheek as she walked me to the door and handed me my groceries. She was very kind. Though I forgot to smile when I was in the store, I hope I remember to smile tomorrow.
I started to make myself some rice, beans, and veggies when I got back to the camp. I was hopeful to get a job tomorrow, but even if I do not get hired I can always go back into town and check my email and see if anyone replied. As evening approached I cleaned my dishes, grabbed some rope and an old t-shirt and put my food up in a tree for the night. I watched the fire slowly die as the stars came out. I Listened to the birds, as they sang their beautiful farewells to the sun. It was amazing to go to bed with a stomach full of food, I almost forgot how it felt. Climbing into my tent, I stripped myself out of all the old clothing and got into something a bit more comfortable. One thing I do look forward to, tomorrow is clean clothes! I turned the alarm clock on, I need to start waking up at a decent time. Letting myself drift off, I felt like it was a long tedious and lacerating day. The moment my head sunk into the pillow, I fell asleep. | b1d32d2418e84057b9fa7252de703797 | ['468f0e4419584fe1bb3d344f4e65321b'] | "Then who is it? What's wrong?" Hermione felt herself panic till a small voice spoke up.
“It’s Neville,” Luna got up and walked towards Hermione with an envelope in her hands.
Hermiones stomach dropped as her brows knit together as she looked around to see all the tearful eyes and hidden faces.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I decided to step away for a little while. Lately things have been really hard for me. Physically I am doing great, but mentally and emotionally I'm all over the map. Bean is doing great! In just a few short days I will officially be in my third trimester. Also, we found out we're having a little boy!
>
> I have been reading all I can about pregnancy and dealing with upcoming beauty of childbirth (eyeroll) - I'm basically trying to learn all I can on how to deal with what is to come and learning... what is going to happen. I know its going to be tough..I've also recently gotten a job that not only is stressful but.. exhausting. Super negative atmosphere with impossible stupid standards everyone has to live up to, and everyone hates their job there... and it kind of.. brings me down. But hopefully in July I can go on mat leave and leave that all behind me. I can picture myself walking out with my middle finger in the air while saying (in my head) see you later fuckers! (Imature I know, buuuut they suck bags of dicks - you can actually anonymously send those... I found a website that will do it for you too....just google it.. ehem) Lets just say, husbands not letting me go back there to work when my mat leave is up. I'll find a better job when I'm not 6 months knocked up. XD
>
> I hope you guys are all doing well. May is Mental Health awareness month.. so be sure to take care of yourselves. Check up on those friends you know that struggle... but make sure you are okay first and if you ever need to talk you can get ahold of me through my tumblr or instagram which I have posted in the previous chapter. Don't be a stranger.
>
> With that.. I do hope to get myself back onto a writing schedule..I have been going back here and there and editing chapters.. some are so cringy it makes me want to cry XD. But as of lately its been hard to do anything I enjoy. I think after I got a review that literally ripped this story to shreds I really didn't want to write anymore because it made me feel even more insecure. (review is not in the comments..got through something else) But I had to find my safety in writing again... and it may take sometime but .. I'll get there! I really don't mind criticismat all, it has helped me learn more about writing and how to be better.. if anything I encourage it.. I just think when one takes everything you have written and makes you feel like complete shit and makes you never want to never write again.. they are going about it the wrong way...and they have failed as a critic. Buuut that's just me.. *shrugs*
>
>
>
> Please let me know what your thoughts are on this chapter.. I do think Draco is a bit of a little shit.. but when hasn't he? Peace out savages - make good choices. And if you can't.. then make fun ones atleast.
>
> And, I will be going back to edit this chapter.. I'm sure there are some screw ups somewhere.. I sorry.
> _-Peaches & Tea_
12. Desolate
Memories of Neville crawled around in Hermiones’ head as the words that were spoken left her mind in a desolate state. Neville, the boy who sat beside her on the train. Her first friend from Hogwarts. The one who bravely slain Nagini. The boy who thrived in herbology and charms. The awkward round-faced boy…
“He’s dead, Hermione,” is what she said.
It was as if her head was a hollow cave. The words echoed in her head.
No, she saw him last night. He walked her to the tower. She kissed him on the cheek and both of them said goodbye. He seemed to be doing well how is it that he could be dead? _'Gods, I’m such an idiot.. he obviously was not FINE,’_ Hermione raged.
**_He's dead, Hermione._ **
No one had answers of how he died… the only answer she had was that he left goodbye letters behind for all his friends before he… which means…no.
**_He's dead, Hermione._ **
Hermione tried to swallow her tears as she stood in the Gryffindor common room as she watched Ginny shake with tears on the floor at her feet with Luna. Both were rocking each other trying to soothe the pain, rock away the heaviness built up in their hearts.
**_He's dead._ **
No. This had to be some sort of sick, twisted joke. She had to have been dreaming this all up. All she had to do was wake up and all of this would just be another bad dream. Hermione took in a deep breath as she held the envelope in her trembling hands. A fleeting moment passed as she considered opening the letter but couldn’t bring herself to open it. She swallowed her pride as she came face to face with the truth that she was afraid of what they had said was true after all.
** _“Promise you will try to take care of yourself too okay?”_** Nevilles' soft brown eyes flickered in her mind.
_‘Some brave Gryffindor I am,’_ Hermione seethed. |
dced8e95926842ffb33136f9f423ad2d | ['46c9988a3f924f1993ef026f24fdc8d4'] | Over the years, Bucky had grown his fair share of those. All of which eventually withering away until they were no longer there. His luck in the romance department wasn't exactly the best. He fell easily, loved hard, and lost painfully.
And this time he had no idea who it was he was in love with.
He left the bathroom in a hurry. Returning the mirror to Peggy's door without knocking and handing it to her himself he sprinted back to his own dorm.
Bucky fumbled with the keys as he tried to unlock his door. He swore loudly when he missed the keyhole once more.
"Jeez Buck, what did the lock do to you?" A voice said from behind him. He jumped as he was startled.
Steve.
Bucky sighed with relief at first to have his best friend to help him. If there was anyone who could calm him down and help him figure it out, it would be Steve.
Or that's what he thought, until there was a light tickling at the back of his neck. He reached back and felt the flower. It had grown a little bit more.
"Oh fuck no."
Bucky swore loudly and Steve raised his eyebrows.
"Good morning to you too? Is everything all right?" He asked with concern.
Bucky shook his head. "Nope. Everything fucking sucks." He finally got the door unlocked and swung it open forcefully.
He flopped over on his bed, pulling out the ponytail so that his hair fell over the flower and hid it.
"Care to talk about it?" Steve asked sitting on his own bed.
Bucky hesitated. "I'm just feeling really sick. I think I'm going to call my professors and skip today."
"But finals-"
"I just need some alone time Steve. I'll think of something."
Steve looked hesitant but moved to give Bucky a comforting pat on the back, careful of his flowers.
"Feel better then pal." Was all he said before grabbing his coat and bag and leaving.
Bucky watched him leave and groaned in frustration after the door clicked shut.
He grabbed his own bag and reasoned to himself that he couldn't miss his finals.
Why, did he have to go and grow a flower?
Especially one for his best friend.
3. Chapter 3
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I’m in finals rn so slow chapters until break.
The hydrangeas wouldn't go away.
Bucky kept subconsciously checking the small blue blossoms on his neck. As hopeless as he knew it was, he couldn't help but try and gently pull them out by the stems. They just bloomed back within a minute. So he was left with a pile of flowers on his bed and a crisis of feelings over his friend. Winter break had begun. His freedom had not. Steve, Peggy, Nat, Sam, and Thor had all gone home. But campus was open for the holidays and Bucky didn't feel like going home this year. He sighed, watching snow fall through the bare trees outside of his window. He and Steve had decorated the dorm with some tinsel and a tiny fake tree on the desk they shared. Bucky had a string of lights above his bed year-round but they added to the atmosphere during the holidays. He smiled softly. He would spend the holiday alone but it filled him with a bittersweet feeling. It was nice to just enjoy the moment. Quiet except for the Christmas music coming from his laptop. Bucky swept the pile of hydrangeas into a wastebasket and shoved some old homework on top of them. No use worrying about them during a supposedly happy season. He didn't want to spend the whole holiday moping.
But it wasn't the flowers themselves that bothered him. Everyone was used to having flowers. Romantic or not. Hell, he was so proud of the iris flowers that sprouted up his arms and the vibrant chrysanthemums spread across his back like angel wings that he let Steve paint them anytime he was lacking inspiration. Which the poor man did all the time. Steve was talented but struggled with art block nearly every other day. No, none of that bothered him. It was the fact that they had only appeared then. Why then? He'd been friends with Steve for years and none but the iris flowers had appeared before.
Bucky knew the answer. Part of him had always loved Steve. Like a brother at first, and then into a strong crush. But the night the flowers grew, was the night he truly fell in love.
He always expected that the next time he would fall in love, it would be special. Some perfect moment where everything was just right.
He could remember Steve's face after he hugged him. The genuine concern he felt at the possibility of that neo-Nazi asshole Rumlow hurting him. Not that Steve couldn't take care of himself. Those eyes though. They held Bucky's entire heart in them.
Bucky slam dunked those thoughts into the wastebasket with the flowers. | 0d78d8cb85304542b9b57b5a2aa56ab0 | ['46c9988a3f924f1993ef026f24fdc8d4'] | "I think you are one of the best friends I have. And if I were ever to lose you I don't know what I would do." The honesty in Sam's voice almost broke Gabriel's heart. Sam himself wasn't sure why he suddenly was confessing this. It was dangerously close to that line he couldn't cross.
"Gabriel I need you. You're my family."
Gabriel sucked in a breath and was sure there were at least a few tears rolling down his cheeks. Sam pulled him into a hug which was nice until Gabriel gave a quiet yelp of pain from Sam crushing his wound. They gave quiet laughs. Sam wanted to brush the tears away from Gabriel's face but knew that he shouldn't. He settled for handing him a tissue instead. Gabe accepted it gratefully and wiped away the tears.
"Look at you Sammy, makin' an archangel cry." He chuckled and they both smiled.
Gabe held out his arms widely. Sam realized he was offering another hug and this time he was careful to avoid hurting Gabriel's wound. They didn't know how long they sat there, and they didn't care.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Please leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed, they're really what's helping me have the motivation to write these.
8. Chapter 8
Hey everyone, I just wanted to say thank you for all the support so far. It has meant so much to write this for you and I’m glad you guys enjoy it. But I’m incredibly sorry for not posting anything these past few months, between family issues, returning to school, and other writing projects I haven’t been able to work on it at all.
I’m going to try and remedy that though. I’ll be hopefully posting more frequently with longer chapters. And if you enjoy them leave comments to give me feedback, it really improves my writing and helps me on the days it’s hard to understand inspiration.
Thanks everyone!
9. Chapter 9
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I want to thank you guys so much for the support you've given me while I've been writing this. Because honestly it's been really tough sometimes but you all inspire me to keep writing and creating content. I'm so sorry that it's been slow but I'm trying harder to write good chapters for you and in a reasonable time. Thanks for sticking with me!
>
> And if you guys have any ideas for where you want this story to go please tell me in the comments, I come up with it all on the fly so I'd be more than happy to hear what you all want.
Over the next few days Gabriel withdrew. It's not that he was mad at Sam, he just felt uncomfortable having his wings out all the time around him. Sam was a smart man and even if he didn't know angelic body language he could certainly figure out how Gabriel was acting as a human. Gabriel was currently laboring under the excuse that he needed 'a few days away from you filthy hunters' but he knew that would only work for so long. He needed to be able to hide his wings again and soon.
A couple of years ago he could have disappeared for months and no one would have worried about him. Especially not the Winchesters. But things weren't the same as they were back then. Now they actually cared about him and he felt like the Bunker was a proper home for him. Instead of flitting from continent to continent, Gabriel had a place to return to. It was a strange feeling but a welcome one.
Cas had convinced him to stay in the Bunker instead of his mansion but that didn't mean Gabriel didn't still keep his distance from the others. So that's how he found himself sneaking into the kitchen at an absolutely unholy hour for a midnight snack.
The refrigerator hummed quietly and as he opened it the room was bathed in its glorious light. Gabriel shoved aside the produce and beers to reach his stash of pudding cups. After piling enough in his arms and wings to sate his craving, Gabriel used a wing to carefully easy the fridge door closed. Just when he thought he had gotten away with it and was going to sneak back to his room, the kitchen light turned out.
Sam had his gun cocked but upon noticing the culprit, lowered it and gave a disapproving raised eyebrow. Gabriel laughed guiltily. A pudding cup slipped from his grip and fell on the floor. Caught red-handed.
"Seriously?" Sam said, acting unamused but Gabe could see the twinge of a smile on his face. As if he hadn't been close to shooting him a moment ago. But that's just the kind of friendship they had.
"I had a small dinner?" Gabriel said sheepishly.
Sam scoffed. "I know for a fact that that isn't true." He was right, Gabriel had snapped up a five-course meal just because he felt like it.
"Whatever Mr. Vegetarian." He grumbled as he passed Sam in the doorway. He hoped not acknowledging it would stop Sam from noticing he still had the pudding cups. But luck was never on his side. Sam snatched one of the cups from Gabriel's arms and he almost lost his grip on them all.
"I'm not a vegetarian." Sam scrunched up his nose and Gabriel bit back a laugh.
"Your diet says otherwise Lettuce Man."
Sam snorted. "We're back to name calling now? Okay shortie."
"Low blow."
"Not as low as you."
Gabriel stuck his tongue out at him. In truth he didn't mind the height jokes. Mostly because his true form was taller than Sam could even dream of being. Even Cas was short compared to him. Granted his older brothers were taller than all of them but Gabriel had stopped caring about that long ago. |
dead88079a5942699594c975677ee09e | ['46d4fc805fef427f986317beaeca61af'] | I'll take you Right into the Danger Zone"
-Mal :"They never say hello to you
Until you get it on the red line overload. You'll never know what you can do. Until you get it up as high as you can go"
-Evie :"Out along the edge. Is always where I burn to be. The further on the edge. The hotter the intensity"
-Mal and Evie:"Highway to the Danger Zone. I'm gonna take you. Right into the Danger Zone. Highway to the Danger Zone"
(no one POV)
Mal started laughing with Evie holding her closely. They were finally there, the snuggly duckling. It was the best bar in town and it was recently renovated. When Mal and Evie arrived in the parking everybody turned around to look who it was. Evie got off first and removed her helmet.
-random person #1 :"i wonder who is Evie prince"
-random person #2 :"the guy must be so handsome"
(No one POV)
Mal turned off the engine and got off the bike. She removed her helmet and replaced her hair a bit.
-random person #1 :"it's Mal?"
-random person #2 :"well i guess they came as friends since they both have boyfriends"
(No one POV)
Mal took Evie's helmet and putted them with their vest in the bag on the side of the bike.
-Evie :"do you feel like everyone is watching us right now? Cuz i do"
-Mal :"it's like they never seen two girls on a motorcycle", they both look at each other and laugh.
-Evie :"Now let's go have some fun"
-Mal :"i agree with that!"said before they linked arms and went inside.
(No one POV)
The bar was not that full compared to the last time Mal went there. Mal and Evie made their way to the bar. The booming music already gave Mal a headache but she was here to have fun so she didn’t care.
-Mal :"I'm gonna take a strawberita and a round of 4 shots"
-Evie :"already drinking ?"
-Mal :"sorry i need to get in the mood and i have stuff on my mind"
-Evie :"For me a Cinnamon apple martini with one shot", said Evie to the bartender.
-Mal :"sooo how is it going with Doug", said Mal waiting for her drinks.
-Evie :"i broke up with him last night"
-Mal :"what? Why?"
-Evie :"i don't have feelings for him anymore i think it was always more like friendship"
-Mal :"oh well this is awkward"
-Evie :"and you how is it going with Ben?"
-Mal :"not really good actually..i think i will break up with him", said Mal while taking a shot of vodka.
-Evie :"really? What did he do?",said Evie while taking her only shot.
-Mal :"he didn't do anything wrong it's just that i feel like something is wrong...another problem is that he wants us to have our first time but I don't"
-Evie :"did you ever kissed him?"
-Mal :"i never kissed anyone...and either did i ever fucked anyone", said Mal while taking her third shot.
-Evie :"you're a virgin?", said Evie almost choking on her drink.
-Mal :"yeah and you're probably not", said Mal while drinking her last shot.
-Evie :"you don't remember Mal? I got raped back on the isle oh wait i know why you don't remember..you came to save me but the guy hit you on the head with a metal pipe"
-Mal :"I'm sorry i don't remember anything about that day", said Mal finishing her drink.
-Evie :"it's okay but now let's go dance we came here to have fun", said Evie putting her empty class on the bar counter.
(no one POV)
Evie took Mal’s hand to bring her on the dance floor. After 20 min of dancing Mal came back to the bar to get drinks for her and Evie. While she was waiting for their drink, she watched Evie dance. Her curves were perfect just by looking at her Mal had some dirty toughs that she tried to get out of her head. Finally the drinks were ready, Mal drank hers in one sip and gave Evie her drink. When Evie finished her drink they got back to dancing but much closer. Mal was behind Evie who was grinding her body on Mal’s. The song Bubblegum bitch started playing, Mal loved that song. She went in front of Evie, took her hands and started to sing _.(I_ _made some changes in the song)_
-Mal :” Got a figure like a pin up Got a figure like a doll Don't care if you think I'm dumb I don't care at all
Candy bear, sweetie pie I wanna be adored I'm the girl you'd die for
I chew you up and I'll spit you out 'Cause that's what young love is all about So pull me closer and kiss me hard I'm gonna pop your bubblegum heart
I'm Miss SugarPink, liquor, liquor lips Hit me with your sweet love Steal me with a kiss I'm Miss SugarPink, liquor, liquor lips I'm gonna be a bubblegum bitch I'm gonna be a bubblegum bitch
Uh oh, Uh oh, Uh oh Uh oh, Uh oh, oh
Queentex, latex, I'm your wonder maid Life gave me some lemons, so I made some lemonade
Soda Pop, Soda Pop Baby, here I come Straight to number one
Oh dear diary, I met a girl she made my dull heart light up with joy Oh dear diary, we fell apart Welcome to the life of Electra Heart
I'm Miss SugarPink, liquor, liquor lips Hit me with your sweet love Steal me with a kiss I'm Miss SugarPink, liquor, liquor lips I'm gonna be a bubblegum bitch I'm gonna be a bubblegum bitch
I think I want your Your American tan, oh, oh, oh I think you're gonna Be my biggest fan, oh, oh, oh | ed4bedc5dc824ca5910ba7567fec69f9 | ['46d4fc805fef427f986317beaeca61af'] | Liz got out of her room and was about to knock on Megan's door when it was suddenly opened.
-Megan :"uh i-um are you hungry?", said Megan who tried to make a new subject.
-Liz :"not gonna work with me Meg", said Liz before pushing Meg in the room and closing the door behind them.
(No one POV)
Liz locked the door, forced Megan to sit on the bed and stayed in front of her.
-Liz :"so who is the Prince Charming?", asked Liz with a fake innocent face.
-Megan :"um charming for sure but I'm sure she isn't a prince...", said Megan who was avoiding the main question.
-Liz :"so it's a girl!", said Liz who broke her innocent face to grin from ear to ear.
-Megan :"yes...um Liz?", said Megan nervously.
-Liz :"yeah?"
-Megan :"does it bother you that I'm a lesbian?", asked Megan.
-Liz :"no it doesn't bother me because I'm bisexual with a preference for girls. Anyways we're getting out of the subject. Who is it?", said Liz with her hands on Megan's shoulder.
(Megan POV)
Okay you can do this! Just tell her that you can't tell her and everything will be fine..
-Megan :"I can't..I can't tell who it is but i can still tell you what i like about her...", said Megan who was not sure about this.
-Liz :"ugh fine! But i will find out sooner or later. Now tell me about her!", said Liz who was excited about this.
(No one POV)
The girls went to their spot on the roof to talk about it and Liz brought two pillows to be comfier.
-Megan :"well for starter that girl has amazing eyes, i feel like i could just look at them for hours without getting bored."
-Liz :"aw that's so cute Meg! What does she like?", said Liz truthfully but with an hint of jealousy.
-Megan :"she likes to be simple but she can be over the top when the times demands it. She puts an image of a strong independent girl but she just wants to have someone to chat with and have fun with", said Megan with a smile.
-Liz :"oh! Talking about fun, there's a party tonight at 8pm at the Jackman's..wanna go? Maybe your girl will be there", said Liz with jealousy over the last sentence.
-Megan :"um yeah sure and i know she will be there", said Megan with a smile before getting up to get back inside.
(No one POV)
Liz followed her out and decided to go downstairs in the kitchen to go see if there's anything to eat. Went in her room to take her phone before going to join Liz.
-Megan :"is there anything remotely good in the fridge?", asked Megan before Liz close the fridge door.
(No one POV)
Liz was sucking on her finger that had a bit of whipped cream on it. Megan blushed and looked away.
-Liz :"not really just whipped cream and strawberries..we’ll eat at the party anyways. What time is it? Don't answer summer time because i will kill you if you do!", said Liz before laughing with Megan.
-Megan :"it's 7:30 but where's your mom? And your brother?"
-Liz :"mom's with on a date until tomorrow and the little ninja is at a friends house for the night"
-Megan :"we should head to the party now", said Megan before putting her phone back in her pocket.
-Liz :"yeah but how? Mom took the car", said Liz before grabbing her phone from the counter.
-Megan :"Prescot gave me a little gift, come i'll show you", said Megan before grabbing Liz's hand and bringing her with her.
(No one POV)
Megan brought Liz with her to the cabin Liz's dad used to repair cars and stuff. When Megan opened the garage door, Liz was amazed to see a black and red Honda street fighter motorcycle.
-Liz :"oh my god! They gave you this?! Do you even have a license?", said Liz who was flabbergasted.
-Megan :"yes and yes, i have a license for pretty much everything", said Megan before putting a green and black leather jacket on Liz.
(No one POV)
When Megan put the jacket on Liz, she could hear her heart beating because of the closeness. Liz turned around to face Megan and Megan's heart stopped. There was barely 4 inches from each other.
-Liz :"um can you zip it up for me?", asked Liz who was blushing back.
-Megan :"uh yeah sure", said Megan, blushing back, before starting to zip the jacket.
(No one POV)
Megan started to zip it up when she stopped for a sec when she was at Liz's boobs. She blushed even more before zipping it to the top. Megan gave Liz a pair of green gloves to match with the vest.
-Liz :"it's so cool, thanks so much! How do i look?", asked Liz before making a pose.
(No one POV)
Megan almost choked on air when she saw how gorgeous Liz looked in that biker vest. After a minute she realized that she was staring and that she didn't answer.
-Megan :"uhm you look gorgeous Liz", said Megan who was blushing.
(No one POV)
It was Liz's turn to blush. She didn't expect her best friend to tell her that. Maybe a "you're cute" or "you look good" but not "you're gorgeous".
-Liz :"hehe um thanks Meg, do you have one too?", asked Liz to her blushing friend.
-Megan :"uh yeah wait a sec i'll go get mine so we can go", said Megan before going in the back of the garage.
(No one POV)
When she came back to Liz, Megan was wearing a black and red biker leather jacket with red gloves and a black helmet with red highlights. She was also carrying a black and green helmet under her arm.
-Megan :"there, that's yours. You like it? Tell me if its comfortable or not", said Megan before giving the helmet to Liz. |
c5083168ab1c49a08f55fb57e0e53c79 | ['46d78c53279f4614a5baf737d29d84b4'] | He didn’t stop. He screamed until he started to choke, his face red and tear stained, and fought back when Derek pulled him away from his neck in a panic to yank the pacifier off and over his head. “No!” The word felt heavy on his tongue, like it couldn’t roll around the word properly, slurred. But it had been the first thing he’d be able to say since he got there, so he didn’t stop. “No, no, no, no, no!”
“You need to calm down, shhh, Stiles. Shhh, come on now,” he dodged a failing arm and bounced Stiles a little more, panic starting to creep into his voice. “What on earth’s the matter?”
He screamed it until his throat was raw, biting and kicking until his arms and legs were too tired to move and then he used his head. Literally. One solid headbutt had Derek’s nose busting open and he was nearly dropped in all of the commotion, until Derek got one thick arm back under his ass and hitched back up into place. “Lemmeh _ go!” _
He couldn’t even get out of Derek’s arms, what hope did he have of ever getting out of the room, the house, past the guards at the checkpoint? And where was his ID? He’d never even be able to get back Below the Line without it. He’d never see his dad again. Was this what Scott was going through, is this what they’d done to him, had Rescue Resource even found him? What about the other people they’d found, why had none of them said this is what those who were taken had to look forward to?
God, this went right up to the top, didn’t it? All the baby things he’d seen so far had been manufactured to his bigger body, far bigger than what an actual child could get any use out of, and hadn’t Derek mentioned needing to be trained last night, before he could have Stiles?
He couldn’t breathe.
He wheezed as his windpipe narrowed down and closed, and Stiles gasped for air. This was sanctioned, this was a thing that werewolves did, hidden away in their ivory fucking towers as the humans starved and were plucked off the streets to be demeened and held hostage.
“Stiles? Stiles, honey, I need you to breathe.”
Every inhale got caught in his throat, sweat breaking out behind the backs of his knees and across the arch of his lips. Holy shit, he couldn’t breathe. Holy fucking shit.
Derek blew in his face, jiggling him. “Stiles?” He blew in his face again before transferring him to his other side, digging his cellphone out of his pocket as Stiles hung limply in his hold, desperately trying to get air in. “It’s okay, c’mon darling,” Derek spoke to him over the ring of the phone, never taking his eyes off him. “Deaton? He’s not breathing. No he’s not swallowed anything— yes I’ll check but, shit, Stiles open your mouth for daddy, baby.”
Derek put the phone on speaker and then moved it to the bookcase, all so he could pry Stiles’ mouth open and tip his head back to see if anything was lodged in his throat. Stiles would much rather choke to death than live his life like this and so when he tried to clamp his mouth shut, all it took was two fingertips on either side of his jaw to keep it open; he tried to bite Derek’s fingers in between his gasps when he stuck them in his mouth to try and fish out something that wasn’t there.
“There’s nothing there!”
“Derek, I need you to calm down,” came the voice from the phone.
“His lips are turning blue and you want me to _ calm down?” _
Oh, that would explain why everything was narrowing down, his vision turning black at the edges.
“I think I know what the problem is but you need to tell me what he was doing before hand.”
“He woke up cranky,” Derek snapped, a direct contrast to how gently he was currently handling Stiles, worry clear in his eyes as he pushed some hair off his forehead. “Had a tantrum and then started to struggle to breathe. How do I _ fix _ him?” His voice had raised as he spoke, but now it lowered to that soft lyrical tone that he used with Stiles. “C’mon button, you need to breathe for daddy.”
“He’s having a panic attack,” Deaton said cooly, “so you can either leave him until he passes out,” Derek growled and the sound rumbled through Stiles’ bones, enough that Stiles started to weakly struggle to get away from him, even though it felt like he was breathing out of a straw. “He’d be perfectly fine, but if you don’t want to do that, then use your claws.”
Stiles’ heart nearly tripped over itself in fear.
“It’s safe?”
“Perfectly safe. A lot of babies need this method to calm down.”
“Okay, okay, Daddy’s got you.” He pushed Stiles’ head back into the crook of his neck and kept him there with one hand as Stiles whined, gasping against his throat. The slick sound of his claws unsheathing actually had Stiles pissing himself and when they sank into his neck the pain of it had him screaming.
And then the pain was gone, his chest no longer tight; he was left breathing heavily, limp against Derek’s chest as he sucked air in. The claws were removed but Derek pressed his hand over the wound that Stiles wasn’t even curious about not hurting. “There we go, sweet boy. That’s it.” The hand that had pressed Stiles’ head down moved to rub up and down his back, the relief palpable in the air.
Deaton’s amused voice came through the speaker. “Better now?”
“Much.” He pressed a kiss to Stiles’ head. “Thank you.” | 0db6237532b34e40a6e5aaed708a0310 | ['46d78c53279f4614a5baf737d29d84b4'] |
birth in fires, this boy messiah
**Author's Note:**
> Completely based on LINK photoset, and no justice has been done to it. I'm not even sorry.
>
> This is a non-con fic, first and foremost. If that's a trigger for you, back out. First and final warning. I know this isn't going to be everyone's cup of tea, but I don't need no fiction police all up in here. Shoo, be gone. Heed the tags, they're there for a reason. If you want more longer fucked up fics by me (why?), check out humans are fragile things. If you want to read something that doesn't scream wtf energy, check out my twitch series, that I haven't forgot about and will be updating! Very kid and sensibilities friendly, scout's honour. I just wanted to write something else for a hot second and now it's out of my system!
>
> The title's from Iced Earth - The Revealing which has nothing to do with this fic at all, I just liked that line cause I'm unimaginative.
How easy it was for Derek to get him here was embarrassing. He was embarrassed and so… so angry with himself. So absolutely angry. He knew it had been weird the moment Derek started taking interest in him; slowly, at first, and never when anyone else was around. He’d flash Stiles a little private smile whenever Stiles said anything even remotely flirtatious, whether it was aimed at Derek or not. He’d brush his thumb up against Stiles’ pulse point during stolen seconds when they’d pass each other in the kitchen, leave the house together or during movie night when the room was dark and nobody could see them.
The attention distracted him, Stiles can admit that much now, given where he was. Paralysed with fear and gagged on the couch in Derek’s loft. And nobody had any idea anything was wrong. Scott was out on a double date with Allison, Lydia and Jackson. His dad was working overnight. It was just them two.
The first time Derek had kissed him was two weeks ago, underneath the bleachers after Lacrosse practice; he’d been too overwhelmed with the thought that he was finally doing something cool for once (in his gear, kissing a hot older dude where anyone could see them? Like that shit didn’t happen to him) to wonder why Derek had chosen him — _ him, _out of all people — to kiss. The very idea was mind blowing.
“You know Scotty was my original choice, don’t you?” Stiles snapped his eyes to Derek and watched as he tilted his head to one side; the action was so Derek that he felt his breath catch. “But no,” he smiled, all charm with only a slight hint of unhinged curling at the corners of his mouth, “we couldn’t have that.”
Something had happened to Derek, that much was clear. Because that wasn’t Derek he was seeing in the eyes, that wasn’t Derek who was smiling hard enough to crack a molar. It wasn’t Derek who’d taped his mouth shut and tied him up. He was just wearing his face.
Thing is, he hadn’t thought it strange that Derek didn’t want Stiles to tell anyone about the kiss and it was worth the agony of not being able to share it with Scott for the promise of more kisses, cuddles and handjobs. Which, incidentally, is how Stiles had ended up here. Like this.
The promise of a handjob and Star Wars had been more than enough to motivate him to go over to Derek’s, leaving a note for his dad that he was staying over at Scott’s tonight. He’d been excited. Not only was he gunna get a handjob — someone else was gunna touch his dick, holy shit — but he was gunna get a hand job off _ Derek Hale. _ He’d only been lowkey crushing on him for ages now, and you’d think being his secret boyfriend would tamper down on the excitement, but it just didn’t.
Derek liked him enough to want to touch his dick. And to let Stiles touch his dick (he’d double checked before agreeing to come over) in return. Geeky, nerdy Stiles was going to lose his virginity (or at least some of it anyway) and to Derek. That was like winning the lottery twice.
“You see,” slowly, Derek leant forward and reached out to brush a tear off of Stiles’ cheek gently, “this one took a liking to you.” He smiled and softly shushed Stiles when he whined high in fear. “You love him?” Stiles felt his throat catch as he tried to swallow before slowly nodding, his eyes swimming with tears. Derek’s smile turned sympathetic but he didn’t say anything else as he pushed himself away and back to standing.
They’d watched Star Wars. And Stiles had gotten his promised handjob. It had been as amazing as he’d been expecting and Derek had snuffed in amusement when Stiles lay starfished on the bed, with a dopey sleepy smile on his face. He’d been tucked up then and when he whined that he wanted to give Derek one too, he’d been shushed and told he could in the morning.
Derek had woken him up pressing duct tape against his mouth and he’d been so confused. Still half asleep he tried to move but couldn’t, not with how tightly Derek was holding him, pinning him down. He couldn’t grab Derek’s hand and stop him from wrapping tape around his wrists, couldn’t ask him what was going on. Surely Derek could hear his heart rate skyrocketing, and yet he’d continued on in silence, methodically binding him. |
91bfb17c0f5d433d87782427e46f7978 | ['46e757a608db4900977659d8d0d92b27'] |
wow and flutter
**Author's Note:**
> heyy so just. for context, lang and edgeworth have been dating for a while prior to the events of the fic. also imagine that this happens in some universe where edgeworth isn't gonna be permanently missing appendages.
Miles Edgeworth's dining room, like the rest of his house, reflected a fashionable upbringing and an inherent tendency towards the ornate. Paintings of landscapes and various pompous-looking men and women- presumably famous prosecutors of bygone days- adorned the walls. Oil lamps provided a gentle glowing light, and the dining table was laden with two full sets of silverware. A gleaming statuette of a samurai sat on the sideboard. At the table sat Lang, feet up in front of him and arms folded behind his head, relaxing. Upon hearing the door to the kitchen open he sat up. Edgeworth was wearing a ruffled apron over his usual suit and cravat, and his left hand was wrapped in thick white bandages. He was carrying two shallow soup dishes. Upon seeing Lang he frowned.
“Put your feet down, Agent. I've invited you into my home and am serving you; the least you can do is be courteous.”
Lang snorted, but complied. He sniffed the air. “So what's the first course? Smells good.”
Edgeworth set a bowl before him. “It's a variation on a dish traditionally made with pig's feet, but I made some adjustments for our purposes. It may be a bit light for your tastes, but I didn't want to overwhelm the main course.”
Lang took a spoonful of soup, letting the broth drain off the side so that only a small bit of meat remained. “Huh. I guess it is the other white meat.”
Edgeworth did not dignify the comment with a response, but took his place at the other side of the table, wincing as he moved. He’d taken plenty of painkillers, but he was still very sore. He looked up to see Lang slurping at his soup eagerly. He then picked up a bone in his spoon and popped it into his mouth, sucking at it. “This is good. You aren't a bad cook, Mr. Prosecutor.”
“I try.”
Lang swallowed and gestured awkwardly at the bandages on Edgeworth’s hand. “So, uh... what are you going to do about-?”
Edgeworth sniffed. “I've got the money for replacements. It's of no concern.”
Lang nodded, impressed. “Damn. You're one committed boyfriend, eh?”
Flushing, Edgeworth replied, “It was my idea, after all.”
Lang let out a barking laugh. “Sure was, you sick freak. Still, I'm not complaining.” He crunched down on a bone. Edgeworth bit his lip at the sound. He could feel heat creeping up his neck.
A timer dinged in the next room, interrupting his reverie. He gave a slight cough. “Ah, that must be the main course. Are you finished?”
“Almost,” Lang grunted. He brought the bowl to his lips and tipped it, quickly drinking the remaining soup. He then set it down and slid it across the table to Edgeworth, yawning.
Edgeworth soon emerged from the kitchen bearing a plate of thinly-sliced meat and roasted potatoes.
Lang’s brow furrowed. “Damn. That's it?”
“Is there a problem?”
“I thought there'd be, well... more of it,” Lang admitted.
Edgeworth rolled his eyes. “Be glad you're getting anything at all. Most wouldn't be so accommodating.”
Lang grumbled as Edgeworth set down his plate. Edgeworth took his place once more and gazed expectantly at Lang, unconsciously bouncing one foot up and down. Lang either didn't notice or didn't care. He took a whole slice of meat on his fork, not cutting it, and caught it in his mouth. He savored it for a moment, then swallowed it whole. Edgeworth shivered.
“Hope you liked that, since I'm not doing it again. Huge pain in the throat and you miss all the flavor.”
Normally, Edgeworth would berate such atrocious table manners. Now, however, he watched eagerly as Lang took great mouthfuls and chewed noisily, humming a bit as he takes in the flavor. Lang gulped and panted slightly, shooting Edgeworth a roguish smile. “You taste good.” The pain medication Edgeworth was on did nothing to dull arousal. He could feel heat pooling in his groin, and crossed his legs. He knew Lang can't see under the table, but it felt... improper.
“Thank you.”
“What'd you season this with?”
Edgeworth shrugged. “Salt, rosemary, olive oil- nothing heavy. I wanted the natural flavor to shine through.”
“Huh. Not gonna lie, you Americans tend to like bland food. This- this is okay, though.” Lang gestured at his plate with his fork.
“I'm glad to hear it.”
He was half-hard now, and growing increasingly flustered. The noises of obvious enjoyment Lang was making didn't help. He didn't cut the slices with his knife, but tore chunks off with his teeth. Edgeworth could tell that he was putting on a show; Lang was clearly ravenous, and if it wasn't for an audience he'd probably wolf the whole thing down straight away. “So how long d'you think it's gonna take you to heal?” Lang asked through a full mouth.
“I'm no doctor, and I couldn't exactly look up ‘how long do I wait to heal after feeding my significant other parts of my body.’ I do intend to take a few days off before I take on any new cases, however.”
Lang considered this for a moment. “Heh... I'm probably doing the world a favor. Keeping a prosecutor from twisting justice, even if only for a few days.”
“Don't you forget that _I_ suggested this.”
“Sure, sure. But you wouldn't be doing it if not for me, right?”
“Hmph. I'd hardly say you deserve full credit for it.”
“C'mon, you know you love me.” Lang ran his tongue along his teeth in an exaggerated fashion. Edgeworth took a deep breath. He could get through this. Just make it through dinner, and he can get Lang to attend to his growing need. | be97159b22ee4b02b834974d4b092890 | ['46e757a608db4900977659d8d0d92b27'] | But Lionel still hoped that his sons only friend would be able to do what his father could not: pull a Luthor back into the light. Jonathan had tried his Kent heart out to save Lionel from the blackness as it enveloped him but his attempts had proved in vain. Jonathan had remained strong throughout the entire ordeal being the rock that Lionel could always fall back on; taking the insults and lies with saintly patience. He had believed in Lionel's heart and remained strong until the bitter end. Lionel had always thought that Jonathan would be the one to give up on him. He tried with all his might to push his only friend away, but Jonathan remained at his side; a loyal and faithful friend. But in the end it was Lionel who proved himself to be the weak link in the chain. He surrendered himself to the void that had enveloped his father and those before him. But he knew he had hurt Jonathan more than he had hurt himself. The elder Kent had never forgiven himself for not being able to save Lionel and still in an odd way loved the man as his best friend still after all those years. But he cared for the Lionel he had once knew the Lionel who would be as loyal a friend as he was. And through it all Jonathan always remained waiting at the edge of light and dark waiting patiently for his friend to come back to him.
When Lionel had heard that his son had fallen in with the Kent boy he had hoped that Jonathan would take him under his wing and care for him like he never could. But he was equally as pleased when he saw how much the Kent boy cared for his son. When he looked at Lex in pain it was like his entire world had come crashing down the concern that was in his eyes could not be matched by anything in the world except for Jonathans past friendship with Lionel. However much Jonathan liked to denounce it he would do anything to go back in time and be able to save Lionel from the self implosion that left him dark and desolate. Lionel could only hope that Lex wasnt as blind as he was to the concern and unconditional friendship the Kent boy offered him.
Lionels mind raced through topics of interest to keep himself awake and alert. He couldnt afford to fall asleep now; not when his breath was coming in short wheezing gasps. He knew that they wouldnt come and check on him now. His captors had left him alone in his cell for the last two days only coming in once in the afternoon to give him a glass of water and piece of bread. He knew that they still thought that he was involved in the assassination of this business man they spoke of that Lionel vaguely remembered. He had assumed that they were leaving him in his cell to asphyxiate. He thought that they had finally given up on getting any information out of him and had left him to a slow and agonizing death. As his mind raced Lionel tried to repress the memories of his tortured imprisonment. He tried to focus on good things, but there were few good things in his present life so he found himself drifting more into the realm of the past to fond memories of his beloved family before he brought it to ruin.
* * *
Part II: Lexs Role
Lex strode purposely back and forth the width of his study. His features set in a tight agitated state. He had just received word from his fathers captors that his payment had been received and they would be dropping off his father soon. Lex truly didnt care whether the man lived or died; in all truth he actually would prefer the later. But he had crumbled against Clarks sense of justice and agreed to pay for his fathers return.
Lex marveled at how Clark could instantly care for anyone no matter how rotten their soul was without even thinking about it. Although Lex loved this quality in Clark it made him unsure if their friendship was true. Or if the entire breadth of feeling Lex had for Clark was nothing, but pity for the poor lonely Luthor boy stuck out in the sticks by his mean old father on Clarks part. But any doubt about Clarks devotion to him was quickly squelched time after time when Clark either came in the nick of time to save him from death and destruction, or just accepted him for the rich brat he was. Patiently waiting for Lex to either tell him the truth or waiting for it to surface; for Clark was one of a gifted few on Earth who could read Lex like a book.
The chime of the grandfather clock awoke Lex out of his train of thought and he glanced down at his own watch to confirm the time. Jesus 2 oclock already! Where is Clark I cant do this without him. |
6b99c1840489488096a3cc19f4fc3e73 | ['472f8a977aa24a15a3c8b4da88218912'] | Harry shakes his head but smiles in a way that lets them know it’ll be him taking the brunt of the blame for this particular escapade. Dele pities Harry, really - women get so fussy about this kind of thing. He’ll be a nightmare in training, probably stuck with blue balls for a month.
‘Disappointing, Chilly.’ Dele crosses his arms and shakes his head.
‘Wh- what?’ Ben splutters again. He turns to Harry with a whine. ‘Dele had the last Heineken you put back in the fridge!’
Dele gasps at the traitor and H turns to him with an open mouth. ‘Betrayal!’ He grins, faking a hurt voice. ‘I was wondering where that went!’
‘Well - Ben said he’d give Gareth a nosh if he asked.’
Eric snorts at Dele’s sudden escalation, Harry looks like he wants to disappear into the ground. Dele wonders if he’s taken it to far, then Ben starts wagging his finger:
‘Dele said Viv looked like a piece of - of cheese!’ Ben slurs.
‘Ben was late to England trials because he was having a wank!’
This ping-pong of exposure is more exciting than the pens and Eric and the Harrys are waiting in electrified anticipation. They don’t expect anything juicy, but the alcohol is making everything more ridiculous and Dele’s Real Housewives-style pointing is not helping that.
‘Dele doesn’t know what a croissant is!’
‘Ben had the last slice of Ivy’s birthday cake!’
‘Dele’s in love with Eric!’
And suddenly Dele doesn’t like the game anymore, and the room’s a bit too bright, and everything’s too quiet.
And Eric’s staring right at him with those big blue eyes and there’s a look on his face that Dele could read if he wasn’t such a gosh darn lightweight.
But he IS a lightweight, and the last thing he remembers is Harry Kane’s eyebrows drawing together and a big pair of arms wrapped around him and a stain on the kitchen ceiling that looks a bit like Mo Salah.
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Oh no, dear, sweet reader, of course I didn’t write chapter 2 instead of going to the gym. On a cold, rainy morning at 5.30am? Why would I do that?
When Dele opens his eyes, he’s in his bed, and doesn’t know how he got there. After the initial moment of confusion, racking his brain for the memory, he realises he actually doesn’t know how he got there. The last thing he remembers is Harry Kane’s kitchen, and Chilly, and Eric, and-
He sits bolt upright.
F u c k.
Eric.
That’s why he’s here. The memory comes flooding back and his heart sinks like a stone. When he next sees Ben Chilwell he’ll give him a little show of HIS King Power, cheeky basterd. Chilly must have been six drinks in, bless him, but that was too much. The mere memory makes him shudder, and he feels his cheeks darken. He buries his head in his hands. Really, Dele? Did you really have to faint? This isn’t Proud and Prejudiced, or whatever that movie was, that Diet made them watch after he won five consecutive games of UNO. (Hardly Dele’s finest hour)
Harry’s gone home for the weekend, and Dele lets out a groan of embarrassment, and it feels good, echoing around his big empty house. He punches the duvet, thinking how stupid he was for escalating the situation. Embarrassing enough to break a porcelain vase the size of a small Marmaduke. Why did he have to start some kind of baity tennis with a clattered Chilwell?
He extends his moan to more of a roar. He just sits in his bed and shouts, and wriggles his toes, and punches the bed, until:
‘Y’alright up there?’
The voice is deep and it’s coming from downstairs.
Dele’s throat goes dry and his jaw slackens.
Is the universe serious? Really?
He dithers for a response, grimacing at himself. ‘Shut up! Hangover’s gonna kill me.’
He can hear laughing and then footsteps coming up the stairs. What an idiot. What a first-class moron. What an absolute knob. What a-
‘Breakfast, baby?’
Dele’s eyebrows nearly shoot out of his head.
Eric Dier pushes the door the rest of the way open with his foot and is standing in his doorway, wearing just a pair of shorts, holding a tray of fucking breakfast.
Why doesn’t the universe just end him now. Probably the best way to go. Not sure he can handle Eric’s pity party and soft, gentle, kind rejection.
He comes to sit down at the end of Dele’s frankly oversized bed and lays down the tray. He’s brought cereal (milk in first, Dele can tell) toast, and even some egg and tomatoey thing which Dele will leave him to because there’s three of his tiny takeaway packs of Nutella resting by the cutlery and napkins- napkins?
‘Napkins?’ Dele scrunches up his face
‘Thank you, Eric, what a kind thing to do, what a good friend you are to me, I’m so happy to have you in my life.’ Eric drones and shakes his head. ‘Hell of a hangover, huh? You look terrible.’
Dele just holds up his middle finger as he surveys the tray.
‘Well, in that case,’ Eric moves to take the tray away with a smirk and Dele flaps his arms in protest.
‘Sorry! Sorryyyyyy.’ he whines. ‘Hungry.’
‘Go on then,’ Eric gestures to the food, and they both take a bowl of Cheerios.
After a minute of quiet munching, Dele realises in horror that he’s forgotten about the whole Chilwell thing. He wonders if Eric has too. Weird to stay over and not even mention it.
‘Thanks for getting me home.’ he says quietly.
Eric laughs softly. ‘Not sure it was a good idea to spend the night at Kate and Harry’s, and I didn’t think you’d be waking up in a hurry.’
‘Wasn’t that drunk.’ Dele grumbles. | e62c7963f95d4ce1892d4a2464fed210 | ['472f8a977aa24a15a3c8b4da88218912'] | ‘Shh,’ Eric places a warm hand on Harry’s shoulder, soothing him like a baby and shushing him gently. ‘Harry, I don’t know – I don’t know what to say,’ he stammers, still running his hand across Harry’s shoulder. ‘I just-’
‘Eric, I think I’ve been looking for you.’ Harry slurs.
Eric’s heart leaps and he stops in his tracks. His mind freezes and he’s paralyzed on the sofa.
Okay then.
‘What are you saying, Harry?’ Eric asks cautiouslt, hands on both of Harry’s shoulders, making the younger man meet his gaze.
‘I think I’ve been having sex with girls to try and distract myself from men.’ Harry’s eyes flicker downwards and Eric gets an ice cream headache. ‘I get it now. I think I need something new, Diet.’
Oh.
‘Harry, do you understand what I might think you’re saying?’ Eric asks carefully.
Harry looks up at Eric and his eyes are blown wide, and his cheeks are rosy and his lips are so pillowy, opening to murmur ‘fuck me, Eric.’
And that’s all kinds of wrong, Eric knows that, because he’s married, he’s got a tiny baby girl, and he’s already tried this, had his turn, and Harry deserves someone who’ll love him before they fuck him, and Eric does, he really does, but he can’t, and how on Earth can he tell him all that? Because Harry’s so soft and serious and doe-eyed, practically on his lap, and all Eric wants to do is kiss his Cupid’s-bow lips until their colour puts Arsenal to shame.
And Eric’s breath catches in his throat but he’s not a rapist so he just takes a deep breath and rubs his hand across Harry’s shoulder. ‘Harry, you’re drunk, baby.’
‘But Eric, come on,’ Harry leans closer and puts a hand on Eric’s chest, and warmth blooms from the spot and radiates up to his cheeks, but he just shakes his head. ‘M not that – _that_ drunk,’ he whines, giggling as he musses his hand through Eric’s hair.
‘Let’s talk in the morning,’ Eric murmurs, picking Harry up and trying to ignore the little whimper he lets out. He nods and snuggles his head into Eric’s neck.
And as Eric carries him up to the spare he’s not thinking of Victoria and baby Zoey and how he didn’t put his ring back on after the match. He’s thinking of Harry’s brace against Arsenal and how soft he looks and how lovely he is
and what Jan said about letting your feelings be real
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Couldn’t resist adding Jan into this! He’ll pop up a bit later. Eric’s confused, poor baby. We’ll see where this takes us. |
c70f27a3f5b6433b8ccd5986c8c12fab | ['47320f23547648c7a41132bdd4d33915'] | Meet-Cute
Ruby watched her as she wiped down the glasses in front of her. The girls nose was buried deep in what Ruby was sure was her now empty coffee cup, a curtain of rich brown hair falling in front of her tanned face.
“I hadn’t pegged you for being into the quiet brooding types Rubes,” Emma chuckled, snapping Ruby out of her little daydream.
“What?” she said, looking up at the now laughing blonde.
“Go over and say hello,” Emma said, grinning at her friend.
“Well, that coffee cup does look a little empty,” Ruby grinned. She put down the glass she was holding and picked up the coffee pot before sidling down the bar to the quiet patron.
“Hey,” she smiled, making Lily look up. “You’re Lily right?”
“Yeah. Ruby isn’t it?” Ruby grinned as she refilled Lily’s cup.
“Yup.” Lily smirked.
“So, you’re Red Riding Hood?” Ruby scrunched up her nose at the name, making Lily grin.
“Red or Ruby is fine.”
“Which do you prefer?” Lily asked. “Red, or Ruby?”
“Either really,” Ruby smiled. “You can pick. Which do you prefer?” Lily smiled a little and looked down at the coffee cup between her hands.
“Ruby,” she said softly. “I think 'Ruby' is pretty.” She looked up at the girl from beneath her lashes to find that she was blushing ever so slightly. “And you’re a werewolf right?” The blush receded and was replaced by a smug grin as the girl leaned over the counter.
“Does that scare you?” she asked quietly, still grinning.
“No,” Lily smirked. “It’s kinda hot actually.” Ruby straightened up, blushing again and Lily chuckled. The sound was soft, and warm, and it made butterflies squirm in the young wolf’s stomach.
“So, if you’re Maleficent’s daughter,” Ruby asked, trying as hard as possible to quiet the flapping in her stomach, “does that mean you can turn into a dragon?”
“Does that scare you?” Lily grinned
“No,” Ruby smiled. “It’s kinda hot.” | 0af934dcf9d146d2a5438a5307a2c709 | ['47320f23547648c7a41132bdd4d33915'] | “Good,” the Queen growled. “She’ll have no where to run.” A fireball appeared in Regina’s hand and, holding it aloft, she followed the crystal into the black.
The darkness seemed to wrap itself around them, like long arms covering you in a thick cold blanket of black that stifled their footsteps as they moved through the chill tunnel, the path ahead barely visible in the light produced by Regina’s fireball. Water dripped from the walls and ceilings, splashing noisily into little puddles, the sound ricocheting around the tunnel in hurried little whispers that made the hairs on Emma’s arms and neck stand to attention. As they came to a sharp corner the crystal dropped to the floor and Regina held up her hand, halting Emma in her tracks. A dim greenish light seeped around the corner, and Regina snuffed out her fireball, putting a finger to her lips, and they both fell silent, listening. A jagged, rasping breathing could be heard; it seemed to slither around the rocky corner and fill every crevice, every crack and corner of the space in the tunnel like an invading gas, until the sound of the raged laboured breaths seemed to be suffocating them both. A little tumbling of pebbled and a sharp hiss of pain told them that she had moved, and Emma shifted uneasily from foot to foot.
“Are you just going to stand there ladies, or are you going to come in and say hello?” a broken voice croaked out. Emma and Regina stepped around the corner into the dim light and the sight that greeted them made both women freeze. The reptile like woman looked utterly broken. The trip down to the cave clearly hadn’t been made by magic, and had only served to damage her further. Emma couldn’t help but think she closely resembled a dogs chew toy, torn and shredded, only to be thrown haphazardly in the corner once the animal was bored with her. Her fingers were stripped raw and bloody, nails broken off at peculiar angles and in odd places from where she had clearly had to haul her tattered body through the undergrowth and over the rocks in the creek. Little cuts and grazes latticed her jaundiced skin, and her back was mottled black and grey and purple around the poorly closed arrow wound, where the flesh underneath was clearly still bleeding.
“Pretty isn’t it?” Madame Medusa hissed, a sickly smile stretching across her sallow face. “So my dears, you’ve taken my children from me, you’ve taken my revenge from me, and now I suppose you have come to take my life from me also.”
“Not entirely,” Regina grinned, taking the cuff from her pocket. “But we have come to take your freedom.” The cuff disappeared from Regina’s hand in a puff of purple smoke and wrapped itself snuggly around Madame Medusa’s wrist. The scaly demon simply chuckled darkly however; the tort grin stretching itself even further across her skin to reveal long unnaturally pointed teeth.
“You really think I need magic to come after your precious little Prince?” she spat. The witch cackled, a low mirthless gurgle that promptly lid into a violent coughing fit that echoed loudly around the empty chamber, bounding off of the walls and around their heads. “I’ll keep coming for him,” she hissed. “I’ll hunt him like a dog with a fox. So long as I breathe he’ll _never_ be safe. I won’t stop until his heart is dust in my hand!” Regina let out an enraged roar and lunged for the crumpled reptile. The woman was thrown up against the wall, her throat magically pinned by Regina’s invisible hand to the sharp rocks behind her, so that the cackle that bubbled from her mouth was stiff and horse. But something was off. Emma could see it. There was no fire behind her words, no spark in her muted eyes. She was bluffing, and this was her suicide.
“Regina no!” Emma yelled, running forwards to the pair. “She’s bluffing Regina. She just wants you to kill her.”
“Do it,” Madame Medusa hissed. “Just take my heart and squeeze.”
“She’s bluffing Regina she won’t be able to hurt him if we lock her up. If you kill her now it will be murder. You’ve come so far please, please don’t let her pull you back Regina.” Emma took Regina by the shoulders, stepping in-between the two in an attempt to draw Regina’s gaze away and break her focus. But dark eyes simply stared straight past her, never wavering from their target.
“Don’t give her what she wants,” Emma pleaded.
“Do it,” the reptile hissed, her snake like tongue slithering out from between her teeth as she spoke, as if to taunt her, to dare her to do it. Regina’s eyes flickered to meet Emma’s, and for a split second, her mask cracked, and Emma could see through the anger. But before Regina could lower her hand the leather cuff around Madame Medusa’s wrist seemed to smoulder, and it fell in ashes from her wrist. Regina’s hand was plunged elbow deep into the woman’s chest, directly above her heart.
“Regina!” Emma shouted. “What…?!”
“It’s not me!” Regina yelled, panic creeping into her voice as she attempted in vain to pull her hand from the woman’s chest cavity.
“Oh, but technically it is,” Madame Medusa grinned. Regina felt her fingers wrap themselves around an unusually cold slick heart; she could feel it beating in her hand, pulsating sickeningly in her palm. She had taken so many hearts she had lost count, but never, never had she been forced to do so against her own will. Her arm lurched roughly from the woman’s body and the heart sat, bloody in her palm, glowing a dark greenish black as it beat sluggishly on. She could feel her fingertips begin got squeeze. |
4f6b5ceb19c440319814cbd2372b8ecc | ['47412ba87b614c568c030d6ced88a62d'] | “Actually, generally it is since you do have a contract with me.”
“Yeah. One book and then we’re done. What I do with it after that is my business.”
“I know, it’s just…” Fitz ran his hands through his hair in frustration, not wanting to reveal stories that weren’t his to tell, but also not wanting Jemma to involve himself with her at all. “Look, as a friend. Just don’t, alright?”
She huffed and waved her hands in frustration. “Fine, whatever. Let’s just get back to talking about the ending.”
* * *
Jemma stormed into Tristesse books, practically throwing the door open in her anger. The front office was empty; school was in session and Skye was only working part-time hours in the publishing office. She didn’t even stop to take off her raincoat but, instead, thundered directly into Fitz’s office. Her pace flicked rain across the carpet and on the manuscripts scattered there like a dog after a bath. Fitz glanced up in alarm, just as Jemma slammed the door behind her.
“‘This is not an ending’?” she quoted, furiously waving her phone in front of his face.
Fitz’s alarm quickly dissipated as he realized what she was referencing. “Well it’s not. Jemma, you had everything wrapping up nicely with Daisy’s confrontation with her mother and the way you handled Cal. And then Dr. Simon gets eaten by a rock, righ’ after she’s finally agreed to go on a date. And boom. Done. Tha’s the end we discussed? Forget hopeful or depressing, it’s not even about your protagonist.” He turned back to the papers on his desk and added, not looking at her. “It’s not an ending Jemma. Tha’s not how you wrap up a story. The whole thing needs to be changed.”
She stared at him, as if struck in the face. “What?”
Fitz looked back up. “The whole las’ chapter. It needs t’ go.” Absently, he leafed through a stack of files on his desk. “Soon, if possible.”
“But..” she stammered. “Where did this come from? I mean all that work we were doing together and building up to this and things were finally going to go right for Fitz-”
His head jerked back up with a snap.
“-I mean for Fisk and Simon and I didn’t think a happy ending was really deserved…” She trailed off, feeling her eyes water as her anger evaporated and left behind a bitter aftertaste of betrayal. “No one’s ever got me, got my writing the way you…” She looked back up to his face, where his eyes were now locked on hers. “You didn’t want me to go work with Grant when his company would have made my book a production and I trusted your instincts but now I’m not so sure. Everything you say he’ll do? Change my endings, reword my writing until it’s not mine anymore? That’s what you’re doing!”
“Jemma-” he tried to break in, complacently.
“Don’t ‘Jem-ma’ me, Fitz,” she hissed. “I’m not twelve and I can make my own decisions. I don’t need you.”
At this, Fitz finally broke out of his stoic expression and sighed. “No, no you probably don’t Jemma. But you didn’t trust my instincts about Ward, you fought me every step of the way and tha’ is one situation in which you are just going to have to not know everything and trust me. If that’s something you’re capable of. If you can stop worshiping your own pain and actually listen to someone.”
There was a beat of silence. Jemma felt her anger, her confusion, and her betrayal well up in her throat as if to choke her. Drops of rain dripped off her jacket onto the pages around her, sounding like dozens of little slaps on the wrist. She had no response. She had no thoughts. Her mind was a continual loop. _Worshiping your pain… worshiping your pain… worshiping your pain._ In her ears she could hear it again. _You aren’t enough. You’re not worth the effort. You’re too much._ It was as if that mantra had never left.
Numbly, she nodded. “I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time.” She turned from the office, walking out the hallway and to the door as she heard him mutter “Shite, Jemma!” and stumble over manuscripts as he called her name and made to follow her.
The door slammed behind her.
* * *
It wasn’t long before Jemma was fed up of prowling her apartment in the cold, feeling the sullen silence of the phone like an accusation. He had called, of course he had called. Repeatedly. Often. And when she didn’t respond or reply, he stopped calling. After a few days of pacing and offering biting comments to everyone within reach, she finally acknowledged that perhaps she needed a different outlet. She was angry and hurt, and while that usually would work well in her favor for writing, every time she laid eyes on her manuscript, her stomach churned unpleasantly.
She knew Fitz was right but he was also wrong. But she was right too, even if she was also wrong. She let his apologies go unaccepted and his questions go unanswered. No matter how true his statement, he had had no right to say it as he did, in a mockery of what she had been through, as dismissive as her father. A faint voice in the back of her mind defended Fitz, for he knew nothing of her story, but the anger and hurt was like a tempest within her mind and that faint voice was swallowed up in the storm.
So after a hearty mental debate and some degree of bitterness directed in Fitz’s direction, she pulled out her phone and dialed a number scratched out on a business card she had kept despite her better judgement.
“Grant! Hey! It’s Jemma.” | fa3a142a89a4442f9dc2366c19a95d67 | ['47412ba87b614c568c030d6ced88a62d'] | “Was there another conference in June in New York that you missed?” she asked dryly, trying valiantly not to watch his fingers comb through his hair and, unexpectedly, dying to mimic the motion.
“My flight was grounded with the weather and I spent my seminar in cramped economy cabin. I suppose I could have given my talk to my fellow passengers, but somehow I don’t think they would have appreciated it.” He frowned in thought and shoved his hands back in his pockets. “Plus they wouldn’t have been able to see the figures.”
“Fitz!” someone hissed from behind him. He turned to investigate and grinned, wryly. “Excuse me,” he said to Jemma. “If I don’t say hi to my sister before the rehearsal actually starts I fear what her wrath will bring.”
Jemma stuttered what she hoped resembled an assenting response and stared after him with a frank expression as he hurried towards Skye. The beaming smile that spread across Skye’s face at his approach made Jemma smile too. Fitz swung his sister up in an enthusiastic hug and laughed, the distance blurring their words into his melodic Scottish brogue and her more enthusiastic timbre. When he dropped the hug, Skye punched him in the arm and Jemma giggled softly into her hands at his cry of protest. Fitz clasped solid hands with Trip and the two nodded and clapped each other on the back, clearly friendly with each other. After a minute’s exchange between the siblings that Jemma watched curiously, Skye waved one last threatening finger and shoed Fitz away, grinning broadly. Music began to play over hidden speakers in the depths of the wooden beams and Fitz hurried back over to Jemma’s side, still chuckling.
Jemma tried not to smile too broadly when he returned and reached for her arm, filing easily in line behind the rows of bridesmaids and groomsmen while the orders of the wedding planner went unheard. Beneath the thin fabric of his dress shirt, she could feel the corded muscles of his forearm. His skin was warm against the curve of her wrist and she could smell the polished scent of his cologne. She shook her head a little, trying to focus, and failing entirely when Fitz leaned down and murmured in her ear over the sounds of the music and directions being given.
“My sister is quite the matchmaker. Seems she has us sitting together at dinner tonight and at the wedding tomorrow.”
Jemma dared to look up into his gaze and felt a stammer within her ribs. “Yeah?”
Fitz offered a small smile, but the depth in his gaze was intense. “I don’t mind.”
She nodded mutely, trusting silence over her stuttering tongue, and snuck a peek over to Skye. Her friend was enthusiastically nodding and giving two big thumbs up from the back of the makeshift aisle. Jemma couldn’t restrain the grin that split across her face and she bit her lip, squeezing Fitz’s arm linked in hers.
“I don’t mind either.”
Cosmos be damned. |
c7c16fd860a84a159416caf72edd24f9 | ['4748a2fc48f04a52b3bfcb716601283e'] | Fortunately, Dumbledore mistakes the reason for both her previous panic and sudden spate of dizziness. “There’s truly no need to distress yourself,” he says gently. “It’s undeniably unprecedented that the devil would take such an interest in a human; we don’t yet know why, but Lucius is possessed of foresight, so we suspect that he has seen something which makes him believe you will be helpful to him in some way. But there is one key thing you must bear in mind, Hermione. _Demons cannot force you to do anything you do not want to do.”_
She draws in a breath. “Demons can’t force humans?”
“No, we can’t,” Ginny says. “We can tempt, and beg, and threaten, and plead, but we can’t physically hurt humans. We can’t affect your free will.”
Free will? This is getting far more complex and theological than Hermione was expecting, or indeed is equipped to handle while her limbs still feel weak from the near miss. She didn’t even do an RS GCSE. Grand concepts like free will are far beyond her remit.
“That’s… reassuring,” she says faintly. She’d suspected something similar anyway. _Secrets of the Darkest Arts _makes it clear that the devil can’t begin to affect your life until you invite him in by summoning him. And Draco’s never hurt her or forced her to do anything: his preferred method of dealing with her is through deals, which involve her willing acquiescence. It seems this is a limitation of demonic nature.
“Do you need to sit down, Hermione?” Harry asks, looking at her with concern. “We know it’s a lot to take in. But Dumbledore is right – we’ll keep an eye on you. They can’t hurt you.”
She sees her chance. “It is a lot to take in,” she agrees, keeping her voice frail. “I’m… I’m not totally sure I really want to stay in someone else’s house tonight. I think I’d rather come to grips with this in my own bedroom, if you don’t mind.”
“We don’t mind,” Ron says curtly. “I’ll drop you off home after the Order meeting is over.”
She nods. She can’t believe how good demon senses are, that they’re able to _smell _another person on her. Perhaps that’s what was bothering him in the car.
Dumbledore calls a start to the meeting. The Order members drag some chairs into a rough rectangle so they can all see each other. Hermione ends up in between Ron and Ginny. The former still looks like he’s mostly away with the fairies, and the latter is busy applying a coat of scarlet lipstick as Dumbledore starts speaking.
“We’ve received word of a planned Death Eater meeting in Angel Park,” he says calmly. “Arthur and Sirius will be –”
Hermione’s hand shoots up, like it always does if someone is lecturing and she has a question. Dumbledore looks surprised but says, “Yes?”
“What are Death Eaters?” she asks.
It’s Sirius who answers. “Lucius Malfoy’s inner circle,” he says, with languorous unconcern. “Mostly, of course, the High Lords of Hell, but sometimes he permits a beast or two to join, if they’re useful to him. The Leviathan in the Lake… the Fenrir wolf…”
“But what do they actually _do_?” Hermione pushes.
“Whatever they can,” Sirius says. “They walk the earth, causing pain and suffering, disease and darkness and death. They don’t _do _anything, in the sense you mean; they can’t. But they bring forth humans’ most sinful desires, and then humans do their dirty work for them.”
Hermione chews this over. It’s the most interesting thing she’s learnt all evening.
So this is what demons actually do: unleash the latent evil that exists inside human beings. Persuade them to give in to the devils on their shoulder, as it were. She wonders how she feels about this. Probably she should feel outraged, like the Order clearly does. But Hermione has not had the sort of life which permits her to maintain many illusions about human goodness. Adults can be cruel, and children are crueller. _Have been _crueller to her. It isn’t as though demons force humans into being monsters – they manage it all by themselves.
Dumbledore resumes the meeting. “Back to Angel Park,” he says. He smiles slightly.
“Lucius and his sense of humour,” Sirius says, rolling his eyes.
Hermione was thinking the very same thing. Islington, and the Angel area in it, is a nice, quiet, wealthy London borough. Pretty much the last place you’d expect to be an outpost of Hell.
“Arthur and Sirius will be in charge of leading the offensive teams,” Dumbledore says. “The Death Eater meeting will be at midnight, on the Thursday three weeks from today. I will circulate a message with the appropriate team breakdown later. Getting this information was a difficult process for our agent, so we need to move very carefully.”
“I can be careful,” Ginny says, scowling.
“Not until you’re seventeen, Gin, you know that,” Ron says from Hermione’s other side. He sounds bored, like this is an argument they’ve had countless times before.
Harry looks apologetic when Ginny turns to him for support. Finally she subsides back in her seat, sulking.
“Honestly, can you believe it?” she says to Hermione in a loud whisper. “Damn near immortal, and Mum and Dad _still _won’t let me join!”
Her ears prick up. Damn near immortal? Unsurprising, but the _near _is what she wants to know more about. What’s the thing that can kill demons?
She steals a glance at her wristwatch, expecting it to be ten-thirty p.m. at the most, and receives an unpleasant shock. It’s already eleven! Draco and Theodore will be there in only an hour! She turns to Ron urgently. | 54b2059d59ae4a92b4d0befffa26558a | ['4748a2fc48f04a52b3bfcb716601283e'] | The county of Ravenclaw is at the north of Hogwarts. The duke, Xenophilius Lovegood, has no offspring save his daughter Lady Luna, as he has refused to remarry since the duchess Pandora (surname unknown) died many years ago. They occupy Lovegood House in the capital city of Quibbler.
The county of Hufflepuff lies to the east. Similar to the lack of a Duchess of Ravenclaw, there is no Duchess of Hufflepuff, as Giffard Abbott is unmarried. It is likely that his niece Hannah Abbott will inherit the title. She is married to Neville Longbottom, eighth Earl of St Mungo, and is therefore titled Countess of St Mungo. They all reside in the Leaky Cauldron, which is in the capital city of Diagonalley.
-Extract taken from _Hogwarts: A History_ , 2586th edition, by Professor Bathilda Bagshot
2. Prologue: In All the Wrong Places
Hermione Granger needed money.
This was nothing new; in all her sixteen years of life, she had frequently been in need of money, and only rarely had the gods delivered. She’d tried everything. She’d been a seamstress, a Thestral-keeper, a scullery maid, a washerwoman. In a moment of sheer desperation two months ago she’d even turned towards prostitution – only to discover that her bushy brown hair, slightly-too-plump figure and unfashionably tanned skin meant her worth was measured in Sickles rather than Galleons.
Naturally, she’d only found this out after her first customer had already rutted inside her. Now that she wasn’t a virgin she couldn’t even daydream about ever being married to a rich, handsome nobleman.
Not that she ever had. Hermione Granger knew her station in life. She was far too practical for daydreams.
She’d been born in a small village in the county of Gryffindor, the daughter of unmarried peasants Wendell Wilkins and Monica Granger. To add insult to injury, she wasn’t just a peasant: she was a bastard one. It seemed that her parents had never quite gotten around to tying the knot before her birth. Now they never could, since they had tragically disappeared quite a few years ago.
Hermione had often wondered irritably why her mother hadn’t insisted on keeping her legs closed until Wendell had proposed. She did love her parents, it was just that they weren’t the ones who had been forced to bear the stigma of bastardry in her home village. It was her. Nobody would employ her in case her base blood somehow managed to taint them. She’d finally moved away from the village, wandering through all the counties in turn, looking for a job which either never materialised or never managed to last very long, until she’d ended up where she was right now: in Slytherin county, walking down a street in its capital of Wiltshire.
Hermione Granger still needed money.
She didn’t have much left of the food she’d stolen back in Ravenclaw county. Soon it would run out, and she didn’t dare steal any here – apparently the laws were strict in Slytherin. It was colder here too, and rainy, the foggy precipitation in the air soaking through her thin cloak. If she didn’t starve to death she’d probably freeze at nightfall.
People hurried past her in relative silence. Hermione was in a middle-class part of the city where the inhabitants were all intent upon their business of making as much money as possible, no doubt in the hopes of sidling into the Rich Quarters of the city. She probably stuck out like a sore thumb. Her robes were much-darned and tattered, her cloak obviously shoddy; if she didn’t watch out she’d probably be kicked out for loitering by some suspicious official. What to do?
With a sigh Hermione decided to retrace her steps back into the Poor Quarters. She’d rented a room there in some third-rate inn called the Hog’s Head, though she hadn’t been stupid enough to leave anything important from her meagre belongings in it.
Perhaps she could find some job sweeping streets. The gods knew she’d tried everything else.
It began to rain. Heavy droplets splashed into the untameable mane of her hair, trickling icily down the back of her neck. Hermione drew her hood up, for all the good that did her, and quickened her pace. The last thing she needed was to catch pneumonia.
It seemed everyone else was as keen as her to be out of the downpour, because soon she found that she was one of the only people out and about. The realisation sent uneasiness skittering down her spine. She entered the Poor Quarters – as signalled by the narrower streets, cracked cobblestones and sky-high piles of rubbish everywhere – and it was with relief that she arrived at the disgusting disembodied pig’s head sign of her inn.
Hermione ran into the taproom, settling herself as close to the pathetic fire as possible. She couldn’t afford to change out of her wet robes. She only had the two sets, after all, and since the other was slightly less darned, she saved it for job interviews and the like.
The taproom was almost deserted. Apart from the barman, who looked to be well over a hundred, there was a pair of figures with their faces concealed by hoods hunched muttering in a corner. Hermione was unsurprised by the clientele. The Hog’s Head was evidently the sort of establishment which was frequented by those thoroughly up to no good, as opposed to being slightly up to no good, like the rest of the Poor Quarters. No wonder she could afford to stay here.
Driven by slightly bored curiosity, she proceeded to do something stupid: she listened. |
820dd3a78c8644a5bd081f16a096ae7d | ['47698a00e8c44a7791475bf0baf0d3b9'] | Well, that is until reality came crashing down on him and realized he didn't know how to please a man. Namjoon glanced at Jin with wide eyes and Jin smiled, pulling the younger man up to his chest and kissed him.
“Would it help if i showed you what i liked?” Jin whispered and Namjoon couldn’t tell if he was trying to sound seductive or not but the clicks from the back of his throat and how raw his voice sounded sent sharps of arousal down to his dick. (Once again.) Namjoon nodded, stopping himself fast, because he had replied way too quickly. Did he come off as a creep just now? But his thoughts were eased when Jin let out a laugh and stood up from the couch, taking Namjoon up with him and led him to a hallway that lead to a bedroom. Jin promptly shut the door and stripped off his pants and they pooled around his feet and Namjoon watched bashfully as he spotted the small wet spot that was on Jin’s impossibly hard dick. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hands grasping at the sheets of the made bed. Jin smirked at him as he walked to Namjoon and sat on the bed, more towards the center.
“You should take off your pants, by the way. Wouldn’t want those to be ruined.” Jin said as he spread his legs onto the sheets, playing with a loose thread that hung on his waist from the underwear. Namjoon followed his orders and unbuckled his jeans, stepping out of his shoes beforehand, and he had to shimmy out of them because of how tightly they were pressed into his skin. Jin let out a chuckle as he pulled his leg from the last pant leg and motioned for Najoon to come forward. Namjoon crawled onto the bed and sat in front of Jin whose eyes were hooded and the look on his face was a teasing smirk as his hand trailed down to the waistband of his underwear.
“So, just to get this clear and out of the way, are you okay with this?” Jin asked, taking Namjoon's wrist and let it rest on his knee.
“Hyung, i asked for this. Of course i am.” Namjoon said, rolling his eyes and Jin beamed.
“Okay, well first let me take these off.” Jin wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Jin gulped as he shimmied out of his briefs, bringing his knees together, and his dick just…, just plopped out on the bed with a fucking poof. God, it was embarrassing enough that he had asked for sex but now he was staring at a dick and he felt afraid for a second then Jin gently grasped his wrist to rest it on his own leg. Jin picked up his cock and let his hand pump once, twice, before setting a small pace. Namjoon watched and Jin grasped his hand and brought it over to the heat between his legs. Namjoon froze for a second before letting Jin grasps his hand and guided him up and down slowly. Jin let out a shuddering breath and his eyes fluttered closed for a moment before He reached for Namjoon’s hand again.
“So, i like pressure… here.” Jin held back a moan as Namjoon’s thumb pushed into the underside of his cock. Oh god, Kim Seokjin could be actual sex on walking. He realizes now just how much he wanted the man and just how long he had been waiting for him to make a move instead of himself. “Y-yeah like that, fuck.” When did Jin cursing become so goddamn hot? Namjoon felt his own arousal overpowering him and he wriggled around to not make his own briefs so goddamn _ tight _ . Small beads of cum spilled out the top of the head and Namjoon reluctantly let his thumb slide over the head, collecting the beads, and he circled it. Jin moaned louder this time, and his head fell into the crook of his neck as he gripped at Namjoon’s thighs. Then he felt Jin palm him through his pants and Namjoon choked back a groan. He felt Jin rub him in all the right ways and he’s just surprised tat he hadn’t cummed yet with all this foreplay alone. Jin let out a heady moan and strings of semen painted his abdomen and his hand. Namjoon gave a few more pumps when Jin had taken his hand and brought them to his mouth and licked the fucking cum off his fingers. Holy fucking shit. Jin’s tongue swirled around his fingertips and his teeth dug lightly into the as he moaned into it. Jin pulled the fingers out, strings of saliva falling from his fingers from Jin’s tongue that lay out for the world to see.
“Holy shit, Jinnie.” Namjoon said, his face flushing and Jin pushed him gently on the bed.
“It’s your turn. Mouth or hand?” Jin asked as his head rested on Namjoon’s abdomen.
“I-i! You don’t have to! I wanted to please you.”
“Joonie, we are not going to do anything else tonight if you don't choose between a blowjob or a handjob. Choose one.” Jin pushed him gently and Namjoon looked away and mumbled something.
“What was that?” Jin asked. | b618d28380be49aca3a2cf3c0de3d903 | ['47698a00e8c44a7791475bf0baf0d3b9'] | “I’m not assuming. Hoseok has mentioned liking you. You’re forgetting that we shared an apartment for two years, we even knew each other before we got the apartment. You can tell when he likes someone, hyung. He gets all giggly and talks about that person for hours before even coming to the realization that he likes them. You know he talks about you a lot,” Jimin said, leaning into the table, his hair falling into his face as he peered at Yoongi through peeled eyes.
Yoongi shrugged as if the statement didn't make his stomach churn. “So? I talk a lot about Jin and Namjoon and i don’t like them.”
“ _ Hyung _ . You know what i mean. From what i've heard from Namjoon, you’ve been happier since the two of you started talking-”
“Jimin, just drop it. It means nothing.” Yoongi interrupted, annoyed as he took another bite of his sandwich.
“-Hoseok’s been real happy too-”
“ _ Jimin _ .” Yoongi warned but Jimin pressed on.
“-you two would make a really good match, ya know-”
“If you’re going to keep this up i swear-” Jimin cut him off with a look of anger.
“Can you shut the fuck up and listen to me for a goddamn second?” Jimin hissed in a low voice and Yoongi shut his mouth at the sudden bout of anger that was aimed at him. Jimin pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “As i was saying, You and hyung would make a good couple. You make eachother happy. Wasn’t this the same shit you brought up with me and Jungkook?”
Yoongi gulped. It was. He was being a fucking hypocrite or a pussy. Or both.
“Exactly. Don’t be sitting over here, twiddling your thumbs while my best friend, who you clearly have feelings for, is suffering alone somewhere or faking that he’s okay. Hell, I had to force him talk this shit out or else he would do something dumb.”Jimin gathered his things and stood up and Yoongi looked up at him. “Don’t fuck up with Hoseok. He really doesn’t deserve this after all he’s gone through for me.”
And with that, he walked out of the shop, leaving a very stunned Min Yoongi in his wake.
-
Yoongi found himself wandering around late in the evening. Kim Seokjin stopped him earlier to remind Yoongi of Hoseok’s well being. Apparently the other was having flings. He didn’t know if he was angry or sad, probably both, and he stormed out of the studio that he and Namjoon were recording at. The air was damp and frigid, it had just rained and the streets and sidewalks glimmered in the light of street lights and neon signs. The smell of the rain calmed his senses, he supposes the view and the way the lights reflected on the ground was nice, too. Few people were out, few cars passed through the streets and Yoongi was glad he wouldn’t have to deal with loud atmosphere or else he’d have to go back and deal with Jin and Namjoon asking if he was alright and he wanted anything _ but _ that.
His mind flicked to the conversation with Jimin this afternoon and he flinched when he remembered just how angry the younger one sounded. Though his point was right. He did deny any feelings or any thought that would simply expose him and cause him to open up about things he didn’t want to know about or even acknowledge. Despite what his lighter mind thought (You know the one that was more exposed as his actual personality.) deep down he wants nothing more than a good relationship with Hoseok, preferably romantic but he could roll with a good friendship too, even though he now knew Hoseok liked him. What he felt for Hoseok was obvious to himself but he chose to remain oblivious to that fact in his bigger state of mind. The rage of emotions that whirred in his head were new and foreign and he couldn’t bring in any other thought to block them from his own inner turmoil. The emotions felt raw as they panged around in his head, causing a headache to cause him to press his fingertips to massage his temples.
The fact that he had been the one to tell Hoseok to leave, the one who hurt the other man because he was scared, he felt as if he deserved them. The self deprecating thoughts hit him like a wave and suddenly he really didn’t want to sulk in a puddle of sadness tonight. He didn't want to think.
So that’s when he found himself steering to the bar named “The Pub” (Not very creative if you ask him, but it was a place of liquor nonetheless ) The neon lights flickered, making the place seem slightly shady but in all honesty, he’s seen much worse and he’s _ been _ to much worse. He made his way up the three brick laced steps and opened the door, his nose being hit with the strong smell of sweat and alcohol. His nose scrunched up at the scent and he stepped into the threshold, the wooden floorboards creaking with every step as the heel of the boot poked into them harshly. He took a seat at the run down bar and a tall man made his way over.
“Vodka, please.” He mumbled and the man nodded before whisking off to prepare his drink and he made his way over once again, catching Yoongi in the act of massaging his temples. He slid the drink over to him.
“Hard night, bud?” The man asked with a small smile that sent comfort down his spine.
“A bit. Thank you.” Yoongi said as he reached over and took a downed the shot of vodka and it seared its way down his throat as he puffed out the air in his cheeks. |
78bb3c4188a04d85ad774521f905b9ac | ['47963b4a39f44b5181cb17b63c283bbe'] | “You’re going to regret that.” Lydia announces before she blows wolfs bane into Kali’s face. It immediately starts to affect her. Kali lets out a cutting howl that gets interrupted because Lydia knees her. “Not so strong now are you?” Lydia stuffs some mistletoe into Kali’s mouth which caused her to collapse and pass out.
When we get to the safe door we hear commotion inside which means Derek successes in his mission. It takes both Lydia and I to get the door to open. As soon as it is wide enough a brunette girl rushes past us. “Cora, NO!” I hear Derek yell. Derek steps out following the girl until he notices us. “Get Erica and Boyd out of there they need to see the moon as so as possible. I need to go after Cora before she hurts someone. I’ll explain later.” He says before disappearing into the building after the girl, Cora.
I enter the safe to find Boyd trying to help Erica up while supporting the both of them. I get on Erica’s other side and help them out the door. “Lydia, tell Danny to bring the car around. They won’t make it very far and I can’t support the both of them.” She presses the button on her earpiece and relays the order.
Boyd, Erica, and I make it to the side door where Danny is pulling up with any incidents. I help Boyd get Erica in the car then get himself in the car. “Alright Danny, they’re in take them to Deaton tell him to help them however he can, then come back here. We still need to take care of the Alpha Pack so we might be a while.” I instruct.
Danny accepts the information then drives off. Lydia and I go back into the building to find the others. We head towards the front to help Jackson and Isaac. “Jackson, Isaac,” I ask through the earpiece. “We got Erica and Boyd out we’re heading to you know. Is Derek with y’all?”
After a moment Jackson replies. “Now’s not a good time. We could really use that help right about now though, haven’t seen Derek either.” Before I can reply we hear a heart stopping scream from the direction Jackson and Isaac are. Lydia and I share a look before we sprint toward them.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> My life has been really busy in the last couple months and I've been neglecting these fics. I'm trying i am. Everything is slowing down now so i'm trying complete all of my fics and sop torturing you poor people. Thanks for all the support.
7. The Battle
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Stiles is going to rescue his pups and no one is going to stop him.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thank you to all of you who have patiently waiting for me to update. I got really busy with school and soccer and books and tv shows and my friends and personal drama, but most of that is done and over and school's out for summer now. i do have summer soccer and I'm trying to work out and practice so i can be better for next season. And yes all most of my tv shows are coming back some time this month. But all that aside i'm going to finish this fic and all my other ones. I'm trying to be finished with this fic by the end of the week so lets see how that works out. Love you guys - Emy
_Previously on Stiles’ Turn_
We head towards the front to help Jackson and Isaac. “Jackson, Isaac,” I ask through the earpiece. “We got Erica and Boyd out we’re heading to you now. Is Derek with y’all?”
After a moment Jackson replies. “Now’s not a good time. We could really use that help right about now though, haven’t seen Derek either.” Before I can reply we hear a heart stopping scream from the direction Jackson and Isaac are. Lydia and I share a look before we sprint toward them.
☆★☆★☆★
_Now_
It’s three in the morning and the entire pack is at Derek’s loft. The pups minus Lydia are Puppy Piling on Derek’s bed. Erica and Boyd are in the center of the pile. Deaton examined them and declared the mostly unharmed. After their few wounds were treated we brought the home, being close to pack speeds up healing for the wolves. Isaac and Danny are on either side of them. Jackson and Derek are next to Isaac and the twins are next Danny.
They look peaceful all tangled together on the big bed. After everything they’ve all be through they deserve some peace. Lydia startles me out of my thoughts when she hands me a cup of coffee. “They’re all safe you did good today, son” My dad save from across the table. I give him a small smile and take a sip from my mug.
“Well it’s 3a.m. I’m going to sleep. I do need a lot of beauty sleep after all of today’s events.” Lydia say’s walking towards the bed. “Don’t stay up too late. Come join us soon.” She says managing to get in between Isaac and Jackson.
I look back at Dad as he stands from the table. “I’m going to follow her lead cause I have to work in the morning.” He comes around the table and gives me a kiss on my forehead. “Goodnight son.” He says. “I love you kid.”
“I love you, too Dad. Night.” I whisper back as he makes his way up the spiraling staircase to the guest bedroom upstairs. I stare in that direction long after he’s gone remembering the events of the night.
☆★☆★☆★
_Flashback_ | c7812795b726435e9aa9eac14c5c0e80 | ['47963b4a39f44b5181cb17b63c283bbe'] | We hired a crew to start working on it the day after Dad accepted Derek into the family, so it could be done by the day of the full moon. They got done 3 days early because we paid them enough to work dusk to dawn. When the crew was finish the pack (mainly Lydia) decorated the house. They refused to let me or Derek near the house until after our ritual.
It was the day of the ritual. I woke up to Derek lying in my bed already awake. He had a troubled look on his face, as he was deep in thought. He realized I was a wake a moment too late and sat up. Sighing he spoke "Stiles, we need to talk. I don't know how to say this but bear with me, okay."
"Are you breaking up with me? The day we're supposed to get werewolf married?" I asked him nervously.
"What? No that's not it at all! I love you Stiles, I wouldn't want to spend the rest of my life with anyone else." He tells me before leaning in and kissing me. Once we break apart he continues. "So about the mating ritual... Well, you know how I said we had to spend two days isolated from the pack? Well there's a reason for that. I'm not sure how to tell you this, but I've spent days trying to figure it out, so I'm just going to come out and say it." He takes a breath and looks me in the eye nervously. "While were isolated I have to knot you."
"Wait, you actually have one of those? I thought it only applied to actual wolves. Well, that's awesome! It's the perfect way to break in your new house."
"So you're not completely disgusted and want nothing to do with me?" Derek asked surprised.
"Of course not I love you no matter what. But you have to give me more credit than that. I researched everything I could about werewolves when Scott became one. I do have a question though." Derek shakes his head, laughs, and then nods for me to continue. "Is it true that when we complete the ritual I could be impregnated?"
Derek has the decency to blush as he nods. "I wasn't going to tell you it could happen unless it actually did happen."
I got up and threw a pillow at his face. "Well thanks for telling me!" I shout as I walk into the bathroom to take a shower, Derek running after me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
_That night just before the moon goes up._
Derek left hours ago to set up the ritual. I've been anxiously waiting, but I'm coming to the end of my patients. My fingers are taping a random beat it to the couch arm. The TV is turned on to a random channel. I check my watch again. There's still two hours three hours before the moon rises. I decided I better eat before Lydia comes over and prepares me for the ritual. I enter the kitchen and get a plate of spaghetti my dad had cooked earlier.
When I finish washing my plate Lydia enters the house. "Stiles, I'm here." she shouts. I walk into the living room where she's setting up.
"So, quick question what am I preparing? You and Allison already raid my closet and chose my outfit."
"Derek didn't tell you?" she looks surprised. I shake my head even though it's a rhetorical question. "Well werewolves all have a different symbol somewhere on their body. Born werewolves are born with their mark. Some are small enough not to be noticed. Others are like giant tattoos. A mated pair has to have the same symbol. Derek's symbol is the triskelion. You have to have one draw on you and the ritual will make it permanent."
I take in all the information she just gave me before nodding at her to start. "Take off your shirt and lay on your belly." Lydia ordered. I did as I was told." She dipped a brush into a jar that had a mixture of my blood, Derek's blood, and quill ink. She had been slow and steady as she painted the symbol on my back. She was done before I could get anxious again. I asked her more about the ritual since she, Derek, and Deaton prepared it. I was to be left in the unknown till the ritual began. "What is the ritual supposed to be like?" I asked her nervously.
"You'll have to wait and see, Stiles" She replied, then refused to answer another questions. We sat in silence with the TV on as we waited for the ink to dry. When it was finally dry I went upstairs and got dressed.
I checked my watch again. There was an hour and a half left until the moon came up. Isaac was sent to retrieve me and Lydia. We got in the jeep. Isaac drove because I didn't know where the ritual was being held.
When we got there I took in the scenery. It was in one of the far corners of the preserve. There was a beautiful clearing with a small creek going through the middle. The trees were looming high above us.
The rest of the pack was already minus Erica and Boyd. Erica was still comatose and Boyd didn't want to leave her alone during a full moon. Derek was standing in a circle of mountain ash that wasn't closed yet. The rest of the pack was surrounding the circle including Lydia and Isaac who just joined them. My dad was also there standing next to Scott's mom and Deaton. I walk up to them and greet all of them individually. |
2b6ab51aded54297b6c98a33cc6e4ad3 | ['479d1f2c28434acf9f22bbbfe36a37c8'] | Something about him in that moment seemed strange, his breathing had become labored, well more so than someone who had only just ran and was tired. Stepping towards him as you were about to return his keys to him, you noticed him grasping at his torso. He stumbled slightly, trying to get his keys from you, putting your arms out in front of you, you caught him in the crook of your elbow him allowing him to lean onto you, “What happened to you…” is all you could mutter to him.
Guilt rushed over you, everything was overwhelming you. You were obliged to help him out after all of this. “There’s someplace I can take you to. A doctor owes me a favor not too far from here, he can help you out and won’t ask questions. It’s not like I’ll need it, ” you informed him and he seemed to oblige silently nodding. You swung his arm over your shoulder while carefully placing your hand on the other side of his ribcage, hoping you could keep him balanced considering how much taller he was than you.
“I have to leave here, so I have to go to my place and get my things now, those men are going to come to my apartment if they haven’t already been there,” informing him you weren’t going to be able to carry him up your stairs, but that you wouldn’t be more than ten or so minutes in your apartment as there wasn’t much there.
After arriving at the apartment, you propped him up against a wall at the interior of your place so he would be able to lean against the wall, considering how hard it would be for you to pull him up off the ground. You hoped that he would be okay as you ran up the stairs to your tiny, barren apartment. Immediately you opened every drawer and cabinet in the apartment so you could see all everything left in the place. The only real possessions you had were your tool kit, your clothing, and your books, so you promptly located your duffle bags, the same ones that you had been using as you planet hopped for the past few years. Seeing it always gave you the same sickly feeling, it was just the circumstances though, running from people who more than likely wanted you dead. Even if it was all due to your foolish choices, how careless you were before. You hurriedly packed all of your clothes in one of the bags along with another pair of boots, and stacks of your old books. It felt as if this scenario was doomed to repeat itself perpetually. Before leaving, you remembered some of the food in your place, but naturally it was just some canned foods and instant coffee, at least all that would last any. You grabbed a few articles of silverware too, they were small so you figured you might as well. Nearly forgetting things like soap, shampoo, your hair brush, and tooth brush, you rushed to the bathroom, you rushed into the bathroom grabbed them all, stuffing them into your bag, bidding your dingy apartment adieu, leaving the key to your place on the counter of your now abandoned apartment.
Rushing down stairs, you were relieved to see Spike sitting just where you had left him, but you caught him off guard for a moment, taking a drag off a cigarette to ease the pain as much as he could. He had kept his arm tightly over it before, but you saw now that he was indeed bleeding from his abdomen quite a bit, with red spots seeping into his navy coat. As he recognized you peering over his shoulder he instinctively covered himself up again. It shocked you but you just kept to yourself, as you helped him back onto his feet and began to lead him to the doctors, under the shroud of darkness to protect you from being easily identified by whatever gang members were after you this time.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> sorry about this one being a short one. I had more written but microsoft crashed! so i lost what I had edited in and I really don't remember what I edited into this lol. I did remember my edits though for chapters 4 and 5 though so I will upload those tomorrow. might take a break from editing soon though to write more chapters because I'm getting antsy trying to progress things so I can write the ideas I have cause all I've been doing is editing lol I'm trying!! also sorry if the editing in this doesn't correspond with the others im just frustrated that I lost the file and just wanna post
4. Chapter 4
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> this was supposed to be posted earlier but i forgot things will pick up soon! i'm trying to flesh out the reader insert a bit more. more sassy remarks to come
Chapter 4 | 8fe4e63ab7544aa99244a154cc0fcc64 | ['479d1f2c28434acf9f22bbbfe36a37c8'] | Spike just groaned at the suggestion. "It's not exactly the most important thing to me right now..." You took it upon yourself and grabbed Spike’s blood stained shirt and coat which he had left folded to the side of the doctor and himself and walked over to the sink across the room beneath the cabinets the doc had just been looking in. It was the least you could do for him, since all the fighting and running that reopened his wound had been your fault. You ran hot water and placed his jacket underneath it, scrubbing it a bit with some soap. The stain came out relatively easily, as the navy coat was already dyed dark, but it was much harder to get the slight pink discoloration out of his yellow shirt. You gave up after rubbing it with soap for quite some time, and hoped that it would come out after Spike had worn it for a while again. You draped them back over where Spike had left them, now they just had wet spots on them, but they would dry soon.
“Thanks,” Spike said to you exhaling smoke from a drag off his cigarette.
“It’s the least I could do, really,” was all you replied as you sat back down up against the back wall in the office, contemplating your next move. "The pink mark might take a few washes to come out, if ever."
5. Chapter 5
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> trying to develop the reader insert a bit, i hope it isn't stupid! so pls lmk. i think some of my other anime interests might be showing through some of these character. idk i feel like it sort of fits in with like syndicate/crime stuff idk! maybe its too much, lmk please!
Chapter 5
By the time the doctor had finished stitching Spike’s wound back up it was quite late and you were feeling much more exhausted than usual, the stress had you feeling on edge. It had been a while since you had felt so exhausted, everything was just piling up, helping Spike to the doctor, and wracking your brain on what you were supposed to do next, where you would go. At least you felt comfortable that you hadn’t been followed to the doctor’s place by now, so you were more than pleased to wait at the doctor’s for the night if it was possible, and honestly even though he wasn’t the most mobile, being around Spike made you feel comfortable. It was odd, for you to feel that way about someone like that so suddenly, but you rationalized it because he had helped you out.
Spike buttoned his shirt back up, which was still damp from your washing. You left your bags in the corner of the room, “How are you doing,” you inquired meekly.
“Is that a real question,” he responded bluntly to your chagrin.
“Thank you for everything back there, Spike. You really saved my ass, you don’t even know.” Spike could understand your situation a little though, when you were wanted your life hung on by a thread which was essentially maintained by you keeping your distance from anyone who was after you. He just wondered what they would want with you. You were seemingly inconspicuous. ~~~~
“I’m guessing you can’t go back there after what happened,” Spike asked, the end of his cigarette hanging out of between his lips. He felt a twinge of sympathy for you.
“I cannot. I’m gonna leave the planet tomorrow, even if it’s costly,” you responded uneasily. “Any place honestly. I just can’t stay here anymore on this planet. I’ll end up dead. It’s time to pack up and keep moving again.” You chalked it up to staying on Mars too long, moving from place to place on one planet.
Keep moving, Spike thought. He wondered about Jet and Faye on the Bebop. Where they had gone. How he hadn’t contacted them in over a month. They definitely assumed he was dead. Part of him felt like it was too soon to go back living with him, but bounty hunting required him to move around a lot too, and that wasn’t something he could constantly be doing alone. Spike didn’t exactly have to money to constantly be traveling solo in the Swordfish, which was old and required frequent repairs. He didn’t really have the means either, repairs on an old racer that wasn’t exactly meant to be flown in and out of hyperspace on a regular basis were quite pricey, not to mention the fuel. He didn’t have the money for all of that, so the options were clear.
The notion of getting back in contact with Jet and Faye made him a bit uneasy, but he shook it off. Though he didn’t express it, he felt like he understand the predicament you were in, despite not knowing the details. You had been involved in some syndicate activity and probably pissed off the wrong people. You were useful, you knew how to repair a ship. Maybe you could be of use to the Bebop for a little while. Then you wouldn’t have to run to some planet and attempt to lay low. Spike decided he would keep that to himself for now. He was still weary of you.
“I think I’m going to spend the night here. Best to not waste your favor.” Spike said, crossing his lanky legs over one another as he leaned back.
“I think I’ll do the same,” you responded. |
ead912bea138473da9e76cad9cf79bf8 | ['47a941949374493aaa3755ec84429fc8'] | But suddenly, Eric was gone, his mouth disappearing from Bruce’s and his hands leaving his skin. He opened his eyes, just in time to catch the orderly’s smile before the man dropped to his knees before him, green eyes focused on Bruce’s open trousers.
He’d barely registered what was about to happen when the other man pressed his lips against the head of Bruce’s cock. The shock was instant, Bruce unable to stop the tiny gasp that escaped his mouth at the feeling. Eric wasted no time, dragging his lips down the length of it, pulling back up with his tongue centred in on the vein as Bruce exhaled sharply.
Bruce gained enough control to look down at the man now bobbing in and out, enveloping his cock in warm heat and exposing it to the cold air of the closet in tandem. He buried his hands in the orderly’s hair, guiding the rhythm ever so slightly, his hips rocking back and forth as much as he dared. But when Bruce lost control for a moment, plunging deep in the other man’s mouth, Eric just chuckled slightly around him, and he felt the vibrations travel straight to his gut.
He was close already, embarrassingly so, and he pulled the other man’s hair a little tighter. Getting the hint, the orderly’s mouth suddenly tightened around him, squeezing, vice-like as he travelled up and down its length. Bruce felt his release build inside him, his cock growing impossibly harder and hotter as the man sucked him, and then Eric was sinking down low, enveloping the entirety of Bruce’s cock in his mouth as Bruce thrust forward, and he came down the orderly’s throat.
It was as if they were one being for a few moments, both breathing heavily and dripping with sweat, and then Eric was back at Bruce’s level, leaving his softening cock to dry in the chilly Arkham air. The orderly kissed him, and Bruce could taste himself, mixed into the _wetness_ that was Eric’s mouth. A wetness befitting a starving man, all desire and greed. When Eric mashed their mouths together, his green eyes engulfed Bruce with their sheer _want_.
But then he pulled away, regarding Bruce calmly. There was a question in those eyes, but a challenging one, and Bruce knew what was being demanded of him. A war waged inside him, his body remembering the countless times he’d felt a pretty mouth descend upon him in closets and hiding places just like this one, but his mind trembling, remembering that never, not even once in Bruce’s life, had his own lips wrapped around someone else’s length. Never had he allowed someone to snake _their_ fingers into _his_ hair, stroke _his_ jaw in encouragement.
But he found himself dropping slowly to his knees, staring up at the orderly through his lashes. The man’s green eyes were hungry again, the corner of his mouth quivering into a smile. How could this tiny, timid man seem so _dangerous_? How could he light up Bruce’s insides like this?
He didn’t know, but he did know that there was nothing that could stop him from drawing down the zip on the orderly’s trousers once he started. The white uniform cloth pushed aside, Bruce pulled down the clean, white cotton of Eric’s underwear, already moist with precum, and allowed the man’s cock to jump free of its bindings. It was smaller than Bruce’s, but flushed red with heat, jutting out in a proud arc right in front of Bruce's nose. He felt his own mouth begin to water.
His gaze flicked up to Eric’s once more, and found the green pair already watching him, drinking in the sight of him on his knees in the dark. Bruce’s cheeks flushed. Half to hide them and half out of a desire to, Bruce descended upon the other man’s cock, swallowing the head and pushing down as far as his mouth allowed. He gagged slightly as the tip brushed against the back of his mouth, but held himself there, feeling the appendage grow wet and slick with his own saliva as he did so. The man above him just breathed, but when the moment of motionlessness stretched, he felt a hand press along his scalp.
_Move_ , it said, and Bruce complied. He pulled away slowly, his mouth glued to Eric’s skin, and tried to think of what felt good for _him_. How had the others done this, all those times before? _Tongue_. Bruce experimented, drawing his tongue sharply up the underside as he pulled away, and earned a satisfied noise in reply. Pushing in again, he curled his tongue around Eric, flicking his tongue out in patterns as he settled into a rhythm. The orderly hummed in appreciation, massaging Bruce’s scalp with his fingers, matching Bruce’s rhythm.
Bruce had never felt this before, powerless and powerful all at once. He’d done similar favours for women, of course, but this was different. There were no soft thighs wrapped around his head, no body squirming defenceless beneath him. Eric’s hands were wrapped tightly in Bruce’s hair, _controlling_ the push and pull of Bruce’s mouth while Bruce accidentally grazed his teeth against the man’s sensitive skin. He froze when that happened for a second time, but the man above him only chuckled, his fingers kneading Bruce’s skull. _It’s alright, keep going_.
And Bruce did, bobbing in and out along Eric’s length as he settled into a rhythm, aided by the orderly’s fingertips and the gentle push of his narrow hips. Even when coarse hair tickled his nose, even as his jaw began to ache from the use, Bruce revelled in his position, excited by every tiny gasp of air and every lascivious moan that dropped from the orderly’s open mouth. | faea35d352814b9f9eb54a061c0e3a99 | ['47a941949374493aaa3755ec84429fc8'] | “Ah, affection. Is this how you indicate closeness in lieu of physical contact?” Jaal paused, eyes momentarily flicking to the counter top in confusion. “But you still hug and touch each other, yes?”
Ryder relaxed slightly. Trust the Angara to get distracted by trying to dissect the matter. “It’s not really a conscious thing. Lots of people wouldn’t even notice it. And yeah, hugging and touching are a thing.”
“Ah, so it is also a physiological response to emotion. Fascinating.” A small smile wormed its way onto Jaal’s mouth. “Well, as my pupils cannot ‘dilate’,” he reached out, placing his hand on the arm holding Ryder’s coffee, almost causing him to spill it. “Let me say aloud that I share your affection, Ryder!”
The Angara’s eyes were almost shut with the force of his smile. As his face lit up red for the fourth time in a row Ryder smiled weakly in return, the hairs on his arm standing on end.
\---
He was attracted to Jaal, of course.
How could he not be? All the touching, all the heartfelt stories. When he’d first joined them on the Tempest, Ryder wasn’t sure what to make of him. He was quiet and watchful and hesitant. Then the dam had broken and the Angara turned into a ceaseless torrent of warmth.
Winning Jaal’s trust had been like opening up an odd, purple oyster shell to find the dazzling pearl on the inside. At least, he imagined so. Oysters weren’t super common on the Citadel, what with the lack of ocean.
The point was, Jaal was overt with his emotions. He’d have to be a monster not to connect with the guy after going through the exaltation facility with him. Jaal had screamed and cried and begged him to help him save his people. And then what does he want to talk about afterwards? Ryder’s family. He was thoughtful and kind – absurdly so.
Ryder had fallen over the proverbial precipice before he could even think to dig his heels in.
But Jaal was… infuriatingly hard to read. Sure, he lit up like a heat lamp whenever Ryder spoke to him, but he did that around Liam, around Peebee, even around Drack. He was warm to most everyone.
Ryder couldn’t for the life of him work out if all the little touches Jaal was so fond of were regular Angaran friendliness or something more. If the soft words and eye contact were platonic or a ‘come hither’ move.
He’d said as much to Gil one night, as they sat on the floor staring up at the Tempest’s core, passing between them a bottle of something alcoholic that Vetra had squirreled up.
Gil paused, rolling his eyes in what could easily be misread as indifference if Ryder wasn’t used to Gil’s thinking face. He took another draft from the bottle while Gil did so, enjoying the sharp burn in his throat. Whatever this was, it was strong.
“I don’t really know what to say,” Gil drawled, taking the bottle from Ryder. “I mean, he’s the only one who’s come close to beating me at poker.” He sent him a wry smile. “For a guy who talks about how emotional he is all the time, he’s got a pretty solid bluff.”
“Ugh.” Ryder let his head fall back against the wall with a _thunk_. “ _Asshole_.”
“Hey!” Gil grunted, elbowing him in his side. “Was that directed at me or him?”
“…Both of you,” he sulked, but sent the other man a sidelong glance and smiled tiredly. “He’s just so… _There for me_. For everyone. He’s like a…” He paused, reaching out to grasp ineffectually at the air before him, lost for words.
“Counsellor?”
“A rock.” He let his hands fall between his knees. “A big, warm, purple… rock.”
“Wooow, you’re really selling this,” Gil droned, giggling when Ryder poked him in the side. “Nah, man, I get it. He’s the perfect gentleman. He _listens_. And then _you_ turn into butter.”
Ryder let out a groan of frustration and covered his face with his hands. “I’m obvious, aren’t I?”
“Yep. Everyone on this ship probably knows except for Jaal himself.”
“Typical.”
“You could tell him?”
Ryder peeked out between his fingers, giving Gil an incredulous look. “You’re kidding, right? Doing that would imply that I actually possess communication skills.”
Gil snorted, rolling his eyes for real this time. “You’re an idiot. Go to bed, dream about your beau and think about this when you’re sober.”
“One more sip,” he wheedled, prying the bottle from Gil’s grasp. “How’s Jill anyway?”
Gil laughed darkly, sitting up straighter and leaning in conspiratorially. “Dude, she is clucky _as_. I don’t think she even realises it yet, but she starts glowing whenever she talks about her work. And she was telling me the stupidest story yesterday…”
\---
His talk with Gil hadn’t helped much, and Vetra was giving him veiled looks whenever he passed her in the corridor. He wasn’t sure if it was a subtle kick up the ass or if she was mad at him for drinking all her liquor, so he grinned weakly, put his head down and hurried off whenever they made eye contact.
He didn’t avoid Jaal per se, but he did decide he needed a little distance from the whole thing for a little while, and so forced himself not to visit the Angara in his room _quite_ so often. Gil scoffed when he admitted this, saying that it was too late for that.
Ryder refused to believe him until Jaal emailed asking to see him in the tech lab, and Ryder went scurrying off to meet him like a lovesick puppy.
The Angara was already turning towards him when he arrived, alerted by the sound of the door sliding open. He gestured Ryder over with a wave of his hand. |
739da5af366247f08bc19cf84f8dec32 | ['47b1699dedde4b82b940b3d14646dbce'] |
A gentle breeze parts the curtains and trails across Angela's face. It rustles a few strands of her golden hair and she jolts suddenly in her sleep, eyes still closed, the back of her right hand resting on Fareeha's shoulder as she mutters to the ceiling. "It's Sunday, right?"
Fareeha sighs and parts her dry lips reluctantly from where her face is planted onto the mattress. "No. Monday." She grunts, voice thick with sleep.
Her wife sighs in relief and smiles at her slurred words and shuffles closer, turning herself over to lay partially on Fareeha's solid, clothed back. She combs her fingers through thick black hair before resting them on the nape of Fareeha's neck. When she speaks it goes directly into her ear. "So Hana is going to school."
Fareeha shuffles again. She retracts the arm dangling off the side of the bed and folds it under her pillow to join the other one. "No. Holiday."
Angela groans and Fareeha chuckles. "What's wrong? Don't like spending time with our daughter?"
"No." She edges closer still and starts drawing small circles on Fareeha's back. "It's just, I was thinking, maybe we could spend some time-" She pauses awkwardly. "Alone."
Fareehas eyebrows raise and she lifts her head to twist around and face her. Her eyes are cracked open and she smirks. Angela stares at her as she wordlessly turns to straddle her, covers rustling as she leans in to peck her once on the lips. "I wouldn't mind spending a few extra hours in bed."
"Now?" Angela exclaims, her eyes wide in surprise, although the huskiness in Fareeha's voice quickens her heartbeat.
Fareeha gives a sleepy grin and leans in to kiss her again but Angela interrupts by grasping her shoulders with a hiss. "She almost walked in on us the other night!"
"Not _really_ -"
"Your hand was _literally_ -"
The door slams open and Hana bursts through with a plate full of pancakes. Fareeha swiftly rolls off Angela and tries her best to appear casual next to her but her wife is already pressing a pillow to her face in embarrassment. Hana's eyes dart between them before Angela flops down the pillow with a huff. "It really isn't what you think it is."
Hana scrunches up her face. "Well I was going to say 'good morning' but you guys seem to be having a _really_ good morning-"
"Hana! Seriously?" Angela is red-faced and Fareeha blushes beside her as Hana chuckles to herself.
"Anyway, I really don't want to know what you're doing - just came in to say I made pancakes and there's eggs on the grill. These are mine but there's a lot more downstairs _so_ ," she pauses before continuing, "if you two are done in here you better hurry because Lucio's coming over soon. _Massive_ appetite."
Angela ignores the last comment and smiles brightly. "That's so sweet, darling, thank you!" She opens her arms for Hana to come closer but she steps back instead.
"Yeah, I don't think I want to do that."
She turns away with a knowing grin as her parents protest and Angela slumps into the bed again, willing her cheeks to cool. Fareeha chuckles and wraps around her from behind. "Don't be embarrassed. She's just playing with us."
"I know Fareeha. That's...not what I'm annoyed about."
Fareeha pauses. She kisses the nape of her neck. "We'll find time. Unless you can't resist my good looks and charms and just _have_ to rip off my clothes right here and now-" She grasps Angela's hips as her voice goes into mock drama and Angela squirms with a laugh.
"Oh, _enough._ " She says in exasperation but there's a smile in her voice when she turns to kiss her gently. Fareeha closes her eyes and deepens it. Angela is the one to break it, pecking her nose with an apologetic 'not now, schatzli' but Fareeha grins. "I know, habibti. I love you so much."
Angela smiles and kisses her. "I do want to take a shower though."
* * *
Hana is sitting on the edge of the sidewalk as Lucio pulls up on his bike. It's green and black with a metal basket fixed on the front - perfect for when they raid the snack aisle of the minimart down the road. He lives further down on the same street and they hang out a lot in and out of school - either for study sessions or gaming. He's one of her closest friends and both Angela and Fareeha like him and frequently invite him to stay for dinner when he's over. She waves in greeting as he smiles and lays his bike down next to her. "Hey."
The smell of freshly cut grass is almost overwhelming. And although it's breezy the sun is strong and harsh and Hana has to shield her eyes to look up at him. "Wanna get some ice cream?"
He looks puzzled. "It's 9 in the morning."
She shrugs. "So? It's summer. It's hot as fuck and time doesn't exist anymore until school starts again."
He laughs and she turns and yells behind her to the door of the house she left ajar. "Cookie!"
A brown and white mix of a puppy pokes his nose through and pushes it open to scramble down the path to her, mouth open and happy with his tongue sticking out. Hana coos at him as she stands and Lucio crouches down to pat him on the head. They make their way down the street to the minimart with Cookie obediently at her side, initially quiet until Lucio wonders out loud why they're making this trip this early. Hana reminds him that there is never an inappropriate time to eat ice cream, but then she pauses and he looks at her.
"I think my parents want some alone time or whatever." She says with a shrug, trying her best to be casual. | c14e564424704bbd968d5ae9d442282c | ['47b1699dedde4b82b940b3d14646dbce'] | Lana brings her gaze back to hers with a somewhat shy expression. “I can’t believe I still react like that. I can’t believe you can _still_ make me react like that.”
Mia smiles fondly at her. “I love that. You’re too cute.” She responds with a kiss on the nose. “And _oh-so chivalrous_.” She teases, and they kiss one last time on the lips.
Mia moves away to rummage through the drawer to fish out a bra while Lana begins sifting through the wardrobe. It doesn’t take long for them to get out exactly what to wear. They get changed quickly and efficiently, already used to last-minute preparation due to their jobs. Mia chooses a shirt and some skinny jeans, surprisingly casual yet tidy when she’s not at work, while Lana goes for slim-fitting slacks and a maroon, long-sleeved shirt. They call out their goodbyes to Pearl and Maya, who respond in turn, and leave to drive to the airport.
* * *
When Ema arrives, there is a noticeable change in the energy in the apartment. Her and Maya are vivacious together, chatting about anything and everything. And non-stop. Pearl sometimes struggles to keep up with the conversation and they apologise sheepishly, promising to tone it down. But Maya is eager to learn of Ema’s time abroad, and both Feys manage to snag and pull her to the office to continue bombarding her with questions. Even Lana barely has time to get a word in edgewise to her sister. She shakes her head slightly as she leans against the door frame, watching as Ema practically throws things out of her suitcase at all sides to find all the souvenirs she’s brought back. Maya and Pearl crowd around her as if it is a chest of gold. Mia, standing next to Lana at the door, has to cover her mouth with a hand to stifle a laugh. “They sure are excited, aren’t they?”
Lana smiles. “I think that’s an understatement.”
Mia laughs and puts a hand on her arm. “Come on, let’s leave them to it. They’ll eventually tire themselves out. And I’m guessing Ema’s exhausted after her flight and will want some sleep, anyway.”
Lana accepts Mia’s hand when it slips into her own. “Is that before or after they question her to death?”
Mia turns back to roll her eyes at her, still smiling, as she tugs her towards their bedroom. Lana huffs out a laugh. “Where are you taking me this time?”
Mia looks back at her. “Well, I’m going to shower. And I assume you wanted to get more sleep?” She opens the door with her free hand.
Lana shakes her head. “No, I’m wide awake now. I can get started on lunch.”
“Ok, then,” Mia responds, pulling her closer around the waist. “You sure you don’t want to join me?”
Lana shakes her head again, snaking her arms around her and leaning in for an open-mouthed kiss.
“Hey, sis, look what I got you from- oh _come on_ -“ Ema’ voice startles them apart. She looks exasperated at the door, something clutched in one hand while the other grips her forehead. “Seriously, not even two seconds after I arrive?”
Lana rolls her eyes at her while Mia tilts her head with a smile. Ema is still sulking at her older sister who only glares back.
“You two play nice!” Mia chastises, to which Ema grumbles in response. She moves to peck Lana on the cheek on the way to the bathroom. “I’m going to have a shower.”
When the bathroom door closes Lana sighs as Ema whines about her ‘making out all over the place.’
“Ema, you’re exaggerating- _s_ _cientifically speaking._ ”
Ema looks scandalised at Lana’s teasing and barely has time to retort to the use of her favourite line. Her sister moves past her, ruffling her hair with a smile. “Let’s see what to eat for lunch, then you can show me what you got me from Europe.” And just like that Lana diffuses Ema’s annoyance, who becomes less reluctant to follow her into the kitchen.
Lunch ends up being a heaping bowl of spaghetti bolognese. Lana asks Ema a lot of questions about her trip and how well she managed, while she cooks the pasta and makes the sauce. Ema tells her Franziska said ‘hello’, to which Lana smiles, having asked her if Ema would be able to stay with her when she got to Berlin. Admittedly, Lana wasn’t particularly close to Franziska, the youngest prosecutor in the office, but they shared a mutual respect for each other and a closeness to Prosecutor Edgeworth. She was willing to help out. Ema had gone to Berlin early on in her trip, after which Franziska had flown back home and had been here for a while already, to Maya’s not-so-secret delight.
Ema begins detailing the grandness of Franziska’s apartment and how stylish and spotless it is. Lana pictures it with plush white sofas, marble floors and the peak of modernism. With the best views of the city, of course. She finally mixes the steaming pasta with the sauce and hands the bowl to Ema. “Lunch is ready.” |
b95bebe8754d4d2a82a1b3e06c8a2595 | ['47c69bc516fc441eb7397dc1b0da20a3'] | Taking in Genma’s words, Ibiki uncoiled his fist and glared at into my eyes then, gently grabbed my neck and pulled my face closer to his. “We’ll find you, you monster, and when we do, you’ll be a dead man.” Was all he said to me, as he started to walk out of the room but, he stopped at the door. “Genma, you have my permission to knock this person out but, do it gently. We can’t have a concussion or anything that would leave physical harm to Kairi. I don’t want to come back to this room and explain to her why she has an injury from something that either one of us did. Good night Genma.” Was all he said to him, as he opened the door then, closed it behind him.
Once Ibiki was gone, Genma grinned at me. “Good night and good bye asshole.” Were his final words to Orochimaru, as he gently knocked me out.
Letting out a sigh, Genma picked me up and headed to a spare bedroom that some of the other ANBU squad members used when they had an overnight mission…
26. Chapter Twenty Six. Your Guardian Angel
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This chapter is in Kairi's P.O.V.
~Inside The Forest of Death, At the Tower, The Next Day~
Waking up in a bed that wasn’t mine, I rubbed my wrists then, rubbed the back of my head. _Ugh. What happened to me? How on earth did I end up in a bedroom? Where am I?_ I thought to myself, as I started to get up but, someone pressed their hand down on my stomach. Looking up, I saw the one person that I seriously missed other then, my parents, it was Ibiki.
“Are you okay? You're in the exam tower. Jino and Mamoru are here with a heaven scroll, you did it, you pasted, you guys can move on to the next part of the exam.” He said to me.
“What? Ibiki, how’d I get here? Why are you here? How did Jino and Mamoru get a heaven scroll without me?” Were the questions that flew out of my mouth but, before I could get any answers, Ibiki’s arms wrapped around my waist and he pulled me into a tight embrace.
Kissing my cheek, Ibiki took a seat next to me on the bed once he let go of me. Taking my hand in his, Ibiki looked into my eyes then, took my hand in his. “Kairi, to make a long story short. You must’ve woken up from the curse mark and from what Genma and Hayate told me you were about to kick a sound ninja’s butt then, when the ANBU showed up, a person by the name of Orochimaru possessed your body and the ANBU arrested you and took you here. I integrated you last night but, Orochimaru wouldn’t give me any answers. So, I had Genma knock you out to stop the connection between you and him.” He confessed to me, adding, “Genma must have given your team mates a choice. You see, they’d had only twenty-four hours to get a scroll and get here, and they made it.” He added to me.
Looking into Ibiki’s eyes, I smiled at him. “So what’s next?” I asked him, as I scooted closer to him. Knowing that we didn’t have very much longer until I had to go meet my team mates.
Wrapping his hand that was holding onto my hand around my waist, Ibiki kissed my forehead. “Well, you move on to the third part of the exam and wait for the other teams. I can’t give you much more then that because, it would be unfair to the others.” He said to me.
I nodded my head and leaned my head into Ibiki’s chest, inhaling his scent, I exhaled and let out a sigh. “I missed you Ibiki. Can I ask you something?” I asked him.
Ibiki looked down at me, he used his other hand to brush some of my stray hairs away and then, he spoke to me. “I missed you to Kairi.” He said back to me, adding, “yes, anything.”
“Will you still like me even though I have this- this thing on my neck?” I stammered out to him, a small blush appearing on my face after I spoke to him, lowering my head afterwards, afraid of what he would say.
Taking the hand that brushed away the strands of my hair, he placed it on my chin and forced me to look up into his eyes, which I noticed were blood shot and slightly puffy. “If you have to ask that question then, you must all ready know the answer to it.” He said to me, placing another gently kiss on my forehead again.
“I know but I still want to hear you say it out loud to me.”
Letting out a sigh, Ibiki let his hand drop from my chin and laid it on his lap. “Yes, Kairi Hatake, I will still love you even with the curse mark on your neck.” He said to me, feeling kind of bold after he just confess his undying love to me. He knew that we haven’t known each other for very long but, somewhere deep inside his once ice-cold, widowed heart, he knew that he found his one day, future wife. Even if she was younger then him.
My eyes widened when he said that he would still ‘love me with the curse mark on my neck’. Out of that entire sentence, my heart stopped when he said “love me”. “Ibiki, you love me? Isn’t it to soon? I mean, we’ve only known each other for twenty-three days, if your including today-,” Ibiki shut me up with a gentle kiss to my lips. | d9a8d866505b48c3b177b56bfe4f6fff | ['47c69bc516fc441eb7397dc1b0da20a3'] | “Okay, enough fighting, tell us what happened. We’re listening sweetie.” She said to me, holding onto Shikaruma’s hand five minutes later, after they got done bickering.
“Ino don’t gossip about this either, Kairi doesn’t need to be apart of the rumor mill.” Shikaruma said lowly to her.
Staring at her husband, Ino let out a sigh. “Like _I_ would gossip about something like this.” She said to him.
_Ino you lair, you gossip about our sex life with customers. So, trusting you with Kairi’s rape is like feeding her to the dogs._ Shikaruma thought to himself. “Go on tell us Kairi, our lips are sealed.” He said to me, staring at Ino the whole time.
I nodded my head and told them about my rape, it took a couple hours but, I did it. I was proud of myself, Ibiki wasn’t here to hold my hand through it but, I was okay with that. I didn’t need him to hold my hand like a child.
When I finished the story, Ino and Shikaruma stared at each other. “Wow, I’m sorry Kairi but, I’m sure Lady Tsuande _will_ find the person before the second exam starts.” Shikaruma said to me, giving me a smile afterwards.
I gave him a smile in return, as a knock on the door interrupted us. “That would be Ibiki.” I said to them, as I stood up along with Ino who hurried to the shop door to unlock it.
Standing outside the shop, Ibiki gave me a smile. “How much for a dozen roses?” He asked out to Ino.
Trying to hide my blush from Ibiki, he tried to not show that he noticed me blush but, it didn’t work. “Is fifty dollars enough for the roses?” He asked Ino, who stared at us both with wide eyes.
Shikaruma walked behind Ino and stared at her, waving his hand in front of her face, she didn’t respond. “She must be brain dead or something, hold on. I know something that will wake her up.” Taking a cigarette out, he pulled out his lighter and as soon as the cigarette started to light up, Ino was out of her daze.
“Shikaruma-,” she started to yell at him but, he stopped her. “Customers sweetie.” He said to her, grinning afterwards.
Ino let out a sigh. “Hold on sir, I’ll get the roses ready.” She said to Ibiki, shooting a glare at her husband, as she walked back in the shop.
Letting out a sigh, Shikaruma stepped out of the shop to smoke.
Ibiki just stared at me for the longest time, as we stared at each other, we got closer and closer to each other. “I missed you.” He whispered to me.
“I missed you to.” I whispered back to him, as he held onto my hand.
“Ahem.” Ino said to us, ten minutes later, breaking us away from our magic moment.
I jumped a few feet in the air, Ibiki catching me in his arms. “Thank you Ino.” Ibiki said to her, as clam as he could without turning into a puddle of water with me in his arms.
She nodded and said, “your welcome” then eyed us. “I hope you guys are happy together.” Was all she said to us, closing the door behind her, and switching the sign back to open.
Staring at Ibiki, he set me down on the ground then, handed me the roses. “There for you Kairi.” He said to me, grabbing my hand, we disappeared to Ibiki’s apartment…
11. Chapter Eleven. Trying Not to Love You
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This is another chapter in Kairi's P.O.V.
~At Ibiki’s Apartment, The Next Morning~
Ibiki closed and locked the door behind him, as he took off his headband, his trench coat and his gloves then, he lowered all of the blinds in his apartment then I sat on the couch, waiting on him.
Giving me a kiss when he finished lowering all the blinds, he stroked my hair, as I touched his scars that were all over his body, or at least what I could see.
Ever since we started seeing more of each other, we’ve become head over heels for each other. Ever scar that Ibiki had I’ve at least traced five times since yesterday.
“Every scar has a story.” Ibiki said to me, later on that day, as he pressed his lips against the nape of my neck. Both of us cuddled together on the couch, watching some stupid movie that Ibiki put in.
Looking at him, he squeezed my hand. “I know. How long will it take for you to tell them?” I asked him, smiling afterwards, as I turned around and faced him.
Ibiki laughed at my question. “A week or so. Some of the stories are pretty gruesome.” He said to me afterwards, he held onto me tighter.
Running my free hand up and down one of his scars, on his arm, I looked at him. “What about this one?” I asked him a moment later.
He frowned at me. “Not all my scars are from combat Kairi. My father gave me quite a few but, not as much as I’ve received from war.” He said to me.
My eyes widened at the news of his father giving him scars but Ibiki reassured me that everything was ok. “He gave it to me when I was young because I didn’t get my father his beer on time. My father was an angry drunk and he would hit me every day.” He confessed to me, adding. “So I to know what it’s like to be abused Kairi.”
I frowned at him, kissing his cheek after he spoke to me. “I’m sorry Ibiki.” I said to him. |
4d10c2227f814889839aaa989209715a | ['47cfc828c37f45ccb7e50b7ebf7c4e5f'] | Sarah waved his concerns off. “Contrary to what you may believe, little brother, you don’t actually have to do everything. I’m sure one of your new friends would love to run the Twitter for us. What about that one you were telling me about, the funny one, what was his name?” She started snapping her fingers, face scrunching up as she tried to remember who he’d told her about. Davey waited, knowing Sarah, she’d get there on her own eventually. “Blackjack? Mack? Chaser?” She snapped her fingers louder, pointing at Davey, her face lit up in realization. “Racer! That was it!”
“No.” Davey and Smalls responded automatically, in unison. Across the table, Katherine was shaking her head.
“Just. No.” Davey repeated at the confused look on his sister’s face.
“But I thought you said he was really charismatic,” Sarah insisted.
Smalls let out a loud laugh, then got shushed by the people a few tables away from them. Right. They were in a library.
“Charismatic isn’t the word I would use,” Katherine said diplomatically.
“Why not?”
“Race can be,” Davey started, slowly, trying to figure out what he wanted to say. He liked, Race, he did, it’s just that the other boy was, “a bit much.”
“Loud,” Smalls pitched in.
“Cheeky,” Katherine added with a disbelieving head shake, clearly remembering something specific.
Davey thought back to some of the more colorful conversations he’d had with Race. “Crass.”
“A little shit,” Smalls countered, smirking at Davey.
“Okay, okay! I get it.” Sarah cut in before Davey or Katherine could chime in with something else to further smear Race’s reputation. “We’ll find someone else to run it.”
“We have to make it before anyone can run it,” Davey reminded his sister.
“Well, let’s do that now.” Katherine said it like it was just as simple as that. And maybe it was, Davey really didn’t know.
Smalls, though, clearly did as they nodded at Katherine, urging Davey to scoot his chair so all four of them could crowd around one side of the table. “We can use some of the foundational stuff we’ve already written for the website to fill out the Twitter. Set up a decent queue of the basic information until we need to use it to update people on more specific stuff.”
He didn’t miss that Smalls had manipulated it so that Sarah and Katherine were next to each other. He approved.
Katherine nodded, asking to see the website as it now stood, leaning into Sarah’s space to get a better view of the screen. And then from there Davey lost track of exactly what they were trying to do. He understood enough to chime in with his opinion on the content of something, “updates” Katherine called them. He’d thought they were tweets…
He shrugged mentally. The others seemed to have a firmer grasp of the social media aspect. He was glad just knowing they’d started. For as long as they’d been going on, since his childhood, at least, the protests had been a rather small affair. They had the biggest followings in larger, more liberal cities across the country, but they weren’t centralized anywhere. This, hopefully, would help them start to make that happen. Nothing was going to change unless they could get everyone on the same page.
Part of him balked at the idea of being a leader of a nationwide movement for change, but he’d been doing it for all the protests in New York for a while now. And he’d done alright, he thought, only because he wasn’t alone. He looked over at his sister where she was smiling bemusedly at something Katherine and Smalls were debating about the presentation of cross-posted information. This wasn’t either of their strength, all of this online social media stuff. But they didn’t have to do this alone. They’d had each other running the protests in New York. And now they had an even bigger group of people personally invested in their work helping them change how they ran the protests, giving them the ability to tackle the bigger problems. The real problems they hadn’t had the weight to tackle before. They’d had volunteers and other protesters, of course, but nothing like this. Davey found himself smiling. They could really do this.
“We could do something with graphics, for the kinds of things that aren’t so bogged down in procedure,” Katherine suggested, catching Davey’s attention.
“What, like for posters?” Davey didn’t know how he felt about the implication there that the procedures were a problem, they needed to be made clear. They couldn’t risk making any missteps in how they handled things, from actual protests and marches to the kinds of demands they made. Not when so many people in power were against what they were doing. But still, he could get behind eye-catching posters, maybe even slogans. Those would be good for protest signs, too.
Katherine nodded, “Well, yes, that too. But I meant more like graphics to accompany the information, to make it more powerful, and let you keep it short.”
Smalls nodded thoughtfully. “So that more people will read it.”
“Exactly.”
“It would definitely make our message more accessible.” Sarah’s gaze went distant, and Davey could tell she was thinking of all the things they could do with this plan.
“We still need to put the long, procedure filled stuff out there though,” Davey insisted. As nice as the idea was, they needed to be clear about what they wanted to do. They couldn’t afford any misunderstandings.
“I mean sure, but that don’t mean you can’t catch people’s attention with these, too,” Smalls said, a considering look on their face. Davey felt like he was fighting a losing battle.
Even so, he had one more point to make.
“How would we even design them? No offense, Smalls, but I’m pretty sure web design is different from graphic design.” | f190d7bc0f344c97806eab09ecede831 | ['47cfc828c37f45ccb7e50b7ebf7c4e5f'] | To say Jack had been surprised to see Davey sitting in a booth in Jacobi’s laughing at Mike and Specs’ retelling of The Worst Professor Ever™ would be an understatement. The “deer in headlights” metaphor would have been closer to the truth. Race was pretty sure Jack would have turned around and left the deli if he hadn’t been seen by the man himself.
Davey had walked up to Jack, calm as you please, and stuck out his hand.
“I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself before you ran off yesterday”—a lie, Davey had introduced himself at the beginning of his spiel, but it was good to know he’d realized Jack hadn’t been listening—"I’m David. And your friends say you’re not as rude as your first impression.”
And Jack had shook his hand, that deer-in-headlights look still on his face and said, “Nice ta meetcha, Davey,” almost on rote.
And that had been that. David had become Davey unanimously and irreversibly, and he hadn’t brought up anything more about Jack’s refusal to support his cause. And he’d come back every day since, if the group gossip was to be believed. Race himself hadn’t seen Davey since Tuesday, not having had much time to relax in between work and school and manning the getaway car. He really needed to do something about that.
Jack had looked like he’d been hit in the face with one of those cartoon hammers for the rest of that first afternoon, though. And if you believed the group gossip, which you should unless it was being spread by Henry, whenever Davey joined the boys who had claimed tables at Jacobi’s that day, Jack tended to be close behind.
“What’s all that about?” Davey asked, pulling Race back to the present, where Ike had jumped on Finch’s back, trying to grab the phone from where Finch was managing to hold it just out of reach.
Race laughed, watching Smalls as they tried to pry Ike off of Finch. They were all going to topple at that rate. “It _was_ somethin’ about Al wantin’ ta see some embarrassing photos on Mush’s phone, but I think it’s a matter of pride now.”
“No, I mean, yes, that too, but. Why are they so antsy? What’s going on?” Davey turned a concerned face on Race.
Race bit his lip and glanced around, considering what to tell Davey. He could always lie. That’d be easy. He had a lot of practice, but.
They were sitting at the outside tables at Jacobi’s for once, and there was no one around. The grey clouds overhead heralded rain, and the rest of the students who had flocked to Jacobi’s had sought shelter inside. But Race had had a good feeling about it and had managed to convince the rest of the boys to stay outside. It hadn’t rained yet, and he didn’t think it was going to.
He flipped his coin, catching it on the top of his fist before flipping it again. Davey looked at him patiently, waiting for an answer.
Yes, Race decided, he had a good feeling about this, too.
He turned back to Davey, “S’a bit of a long story, but if you wanna know…” He trailed off, waiting for Davey to nod. When he did Race looked back at the boys. His attention caught on those not actively involved in the chaos, who had taking to egging the others on and placing bets on the outcome. He held a finger up, telling Davey to wait. “I got ten on Ike,” He yelled into the mess, laughing when a stream of protests rang out, Race was well known not to lose bets very often. “I got a good feeling,” he said conspiratorially to Davey with a grin.
“Race,” Davey prodded, clearly getting anxious to know what was going on, now that Race had told him there was something to know.
“Alright, alright,” he gave in, raising his hands in mock surrender, giving up on trying to get his wager counted. “This is gonna get real weird, real quick, so I’d save any freak outs till the end if I was you.”
Davey smiled, “I don’t freak out easy, Race.”
“If you says so.” Race took a breath, “They’s ansty ‘cause Jack told us all ta be here, cause he wants ta tell ‘em about somethin’ that happened last night, and he ain’t said nothin’ yet. And to answer your next question, he’s poutin’ because they gotta know, it’s pretty damn relevant ta all a us, but Jack don’t want them doin’ anything stupid once they find out.”
“That wasn’t vague at all, thank you, Race,” Davey deadpanned.
Race brushed it off with a grin before pointing back at their friends. It was fun to play with Davey, but if he was going to tell him the truth, he might as well start before he frustrated him too much. “Alright, I’ll give ya some context. Take them fightin’ over there.” Davey nodded. “So, if we wasn’t out in public, that whole thing would look real different.”
“Different how?” Davey asked when Race didn’t continue.
Race chuckled, it was such a simple question, and yet, there would be no going back from this. Good. “For starters, Finch’d be flyin’ as high up as the ceiling would let ‘im go.”
He turned back to Davey to gauge the man’s reaction. “Go on,” Davey said evenly, his face a neutral mask.
Race flashed a smile before turning back to the boys, debating how to continue. “Only one who could get the phone from him up there’s Tommy Boy, but it’s tricky. All about timing. He likes ta act all cool and calm, but he’s hit the ground before, tryin’ that. |
83ca8551e1b54562a7a1c9f893578a12 | ['47e6a24705bd4360a3470bf69e72cf82'] | Jowan’s eyes flashed with anger at the mage’s words. “Lily and I would have if you hadn’t gone to Irving. But apparently you couldn’t even protect your friends.” One of the templars pulled Jowan’s head back with a tug to his hair and the second placed the rod of lyrium Neria hadn’t noticed against his forehead.
Fear and pain slipped out of Jowan’s eyes as his head was released, his skin reddening and blistering from the heat of the brand. The templars turned their heads to Neria, advancing with each step back she took, until a hand pulled her into darkness.
Neria’s eyes widened as she met Duncan’s glance with her own. “Duncan? I thought you were…”
Before her words could be continued the older man gave her a smile. “I see Irving had mentioned me to you. You’ve been released to be join the Grey Wardens. Come, we are nearly finished with our battle.”
Neria’s eyes only closed momentarily with a shake of her head, but when they opened again a new sight was before her. Bodies were torn to pieces across a ground sprinkled with blood and weapons. Just ahead a man was crawling along the ground, blood pouring out behind him, in her direction. As the figure got closer, Neria recognized Duncan’s form and raced towards him.
“The wardens are dead. They will come for you next if you do not protect yourself.” A larger hand grabbed Duncan by the ankles and dragged the man into the arms of an ogre. He was lifted up and soon a torso fell to the ground, limbs tossed to the side.
Neria raised her hand to her check feeling liquid against it. Her eyes widened as the tips of her fingers pulled back, stained red. Ahead the ogre slowly seemed to shift out of sight as the two armored templars approached her from its shadow.
Neria’s steps took her back away from the forms until reaching a mass behind her. Jowan’s familiar voice reached her ears. “They can bring steadiness.” Neria turned and watched as the brand continued to grow along Jowan’s forehead, skin melting and sloughing to the side as deed red started to spread.
Neria’s eyes hardened as she pulled her staff to a more defensive position. A reddish glint took over Jowan’s eyes as he moved closer to her. “Do you not want peace, they bring that to mages.”
Neria’s eyes widened as she spun, forming a case of ice along Jowan’s legs. The two templars flickered into a green wisp and two quick bolts of lightning dissipated them. As she turned back, the shape of her former friend shifted and grew, a lava looking rage demon taking place.
Neria first placed a barrier of ice between her and the demon as she took a few steps backwards. Keeping her sight on the demon through the ice she sent a blast of energy over the wall as sparks hit and danced around the demon’s body. A frosting of ice then wrapped around the body, hardening some of the more lava like spots before melting away. As the ice barrier started to melt away, Neria’s quick steps backwards tangled her feet as she fell to the ground. One final bolt left her staff and the demon staggered and dropped to the ground, forcing Neria to roll to the side to avoid being trapped beneath it.
Neria slowly rose to her feet, trembling as she started back down the path around the demon. Once it was out of her view, she paused taking in a few settling breaths. Another form was ahead on the path and Neria prepared herself, expecting another battle.
The man before her turned as Neria approached, and sighed gently. “I felt as sloth pulled more into here with me. I didn’t expect to see any though. You must be incredibly strong to have made it to here.”
Neria cocked an eyebrow and glared at the man. “I’ve dealt with pride demons in here before, praising my strength is a reused concept.”
The man took a few steps backwards, raising his hands in defense. “Not a demon. I was on my way to the Harrowing Chamber to assist Irving when sloth stopped me. My name is Niall.”
Neria’s face relaxed but she remained on guard not fully trusting the other she had encountered. “Then you still have what you got from Owain, you never made it to Irving.”
Niall nodded, not moving closer to the younger mage. “Yes, I still had the Litany of Adralla when I encountered sloth. It needs to make it up to Irving in order for anyone to survive.”
Neria sighed, relaxation finally reaching the rest of her body. “You said you felt others pulled in here. Would that mean that the ones I was traveling with could be trapped in the fade?”
Niall nodded lightly to the girl’s questions. “If they encountered sloth? Then it is likely. Sloth is also somewhere in here. You will need to defeat it in order to escape. I wish you luck in here.”
Neria flashed a quick smile across her lips hoping to appear braver than she felt. This was unlike being pulled into the fade for her harrowing and Neria was unsure of what to expect. Soon a turn along the path removed Niall from her sight when she glanced behind. Continuing along the path Neria felt her mind drift aside from time to time as the monotony of the fade drug on. | 9b73bec043564ea7909eea63f012bab3 | ['47e6a24705bd4360a3470bf69e72cf82'] | Neria glanced back at the group that had entered with her. “Send myself and the group I have come with. I know the tower and the mages.”
A subtle nod came from the templar. “Go then. But know that I will only accept that the tower is safe if I hear it from the First Enchanter. Find me Irving and if he says things that been made safe the Rite will not be carried out. Know though, if you go through that door I will not open it again until I hear his voice. You can get some supplies from the quartermaster if you need any.”
Neria returned to the other two and counted out 10 gold pieces to purchase a few lyrium and health potions as well as a few arrows enchanted to light on fire when released for Leliana. The three and dog walked through the door, hearing the slow creak as it swung shut behind.
The hallway was silent, and if not for the random streaks of blood and viscera, it would be believed that all were sleeping in the quarters. After walking past a few doors in the apprentice quarters Neria paused, looking through one. “This was my room before the Harrowing.” She slipped through the door and picked up a small bag and a painted box. “All of us would place trinkets in these, I have to take them.” She walked briefly to a bed a lightly ran her fingers along the sheet, smiling gently before returning to the group.
As they left the open room, a roar came from a few rooms ahead. Neria started to run, holding her staff across her body, trusting that the others were following. As they entered the room, Neria saw Wynne finishing off a rage demon. A quick glance around showed that the room was filled mainly with children. Wynne, one of the enchanter’s Neria only knew by name, and Solona Amell were the only adults in the vicinity.
Neria ran to her friend and wrapped her arms around the other female mage’s neck. “I was so worried when Greagior said what happened. Where’s Alim? And Anders?” As Neria stepped back from the other girl, she noticed a harsh burn along Solona’s right forearm. As she started to pull forth a bit of healing magic the other girl lightly batted her hand down.
“Don’t.” Solona took her unburned arm and wiped a small collection of tears from her eyes. “Alim didn’t make it here. A rage demon caught sight of me and was about to burn me and he pushed me out of the way. The lips of the flames caught my arm, I need to keep that for what he did.”
Neria lightly ran a finger along her friend’s face before taking Solona’s hand in hers. “I’m sorry Lona. I know you two were important to each other.” When Solona looked back up at the other mage, Neria took a breath. “I guess Anders didn’t make it either then, not if he was in solitary.”
Solona shook her head lightly. “He was let out a week ago. He wasn’t doing well when he got out. Wouldn’t talk to or touch anyone, really unlike him. A day or so ago he ran again, thankfully before anything started or I bet they would have tried to blame him.”
Neria opened her mouth wanting to speak to her friend more when she noticed Alistair and Wynne motioning for her to come over. She moved away from Solona, squeezing her hand gently as she left. “Sorry, I… I needed to speak to her. What’s happened Wynne?”
Wynne nodded gently at Neria’s words casting a quick glance at Solona. “You remember Uldred? There was an argument between some of the senior enchanters. He was leading a part of the mages who wanted to break away and follow Loghain. Irving was clearly against the idea and Uldred brought forth demons to attack. I lead as many of the apprentices in here as I could with Solona and Petra’s assistance.”
The other mage walked towards the group, handing Wynne a waterskin. “She saved our life. And nearl lost her own in the process. More than that rage demon would have gotten in if she hadn’t put up the barrier.”
Neria eye’s widened looking at the barrier indicated with awe. “Would you be able to bring it back up if it was dispelled? We need to get to Irving before a message comes from Denerm.”
Wynne caught Neria’s eyes, a sad look crossing her face when she saw despair in the younger girl’s face. “They’ve sent for the Rite of Annulment then. I was worried it would get to that.”
Neria nodded quickly hoping that the others in the room wouldn’t know what was happening. “Yes, but he will not hold through with it if Irving tells him the tower is safe. We’re going to defeat things and bring Irving out to Greagior.”
“If you are going after Irving, I’m coming with you. You would be better suited with another who knows this tower, and Neria you don’t really know much once we get out of this floor.” Wynne glanced at Petra and Solona after her eyes glanced over the children. “You two will need to bring and hold the barrier when we get through. Or more accurately, Petra will need to bring the barrier while Solona adds elements to it. Do not bring it down until we return with Irving.”
Neria crouched down by Vesta placing her hands behind the dog’s head. “Stay here. If for any reason something comes here before we return, help keep the children safe.”
As Neria, Alistair, and Leliana approached the older mage a low mutter was able to be heard. “I’m actually surprised I held it this long. Are you ready Petra?”
The red-hair mage nodded looking at the group of four. “You need to be careful Wynne. Remember what happened with the demon.” |
f32da597252d4e27883b73b81d858ed8 | ['480e38694105479081f4f1d189800296'] | “Ah, no. I want everyone to see what they did to me. What Kacchan did. He’s a bully and doesn’t deserve to go to UA, but of course he won’t spill about this.”
Shigaraki now couldn’t hold back his excitement when he heard him talk about the prestigious high school. “So, Midoriya, do you want revenge? To get back at both fuckers?”
Although his eyes were covered and he couldn’t see, Midoriya turned his head to their voices, and smiled sadistically.
“What’s the plan, boss?”
3. Voices in Your Head
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Bakugou and Inko centric. Bakugou breaks down and Inko realizes she's truly alone.
It’s been a week since Izuku Midoriya disappeared. Bakugou first thought that he was sick or just skipping class to avoid him, but when the local news put out a “Missing Person” alert, it was downhill from there. He was missing.
Good riddance, right? Fucking Deku was gone and Bakugou should feel better now since the competition to get into UA was over. But it was the complete opposite. He felt horrible. Terrible. Like it was his fault.
Well, it kinda was his fault.
He caught himself staring at his empty desk again for the fifth time this morning. _Too many times,_ he told himself. His teacher was watching the explosive student, but chose not to pick on him, for fear of coming under his wrath. His group of friends avoided him for that week that missing person alert was out. He passed his mom’s apartment every day, once in the morning and once at night, but never had the courage to talk to her about him.
_Courage_. What a word with a strong meaning. He couldn’t gather the strength to tell Deku’s mom that he was probably the reason he committed suicide. To tell her he was the reason of years of bullying and relentless abuse. He’s the reason he gave up so long ago.
* * *
He passed Deku’s apartment again. It’s become a routine. Bakugou made it home and beelined straight to his room, not even saying a quick “I’m home”. The door slammed and he launched himself on his bed, carelessly tossing his backpack to the floor. He buried his face in his pillow, and uncharacteristically yelled into it. He needed to blow off the emotions following the whole incident. He figured that he would go to the park and let loose.
He changed quickly to a black tank top and basketball shorts, slipping on his sneakers. He went downstairs quickly, taking two steps at a time. His mother called out for him, but he ignored her and went outside.
Once outside, he realized the world continues moving on. With or without Deku. With or without a quirkless kid. The world could care less. He could care less. Really, he could. Jogging to the park, Bakugou was trying to listen to the outside world. His thoughts wouldn’t allow him. What the fuck was wrong with him?
He stopped near the park to an alleyway. The same alleyway where the pub is and where Deku tried to take his own life. But he didn’t know that. He walked inside the darkness. He saw a turned over trashcan, still half full, and the broken pipes. He figured it was a fight that broke out.
He froze. The blade on the floor, stained red, looked too familiar. It was from the one of the local marts near his home. Only him and Deku knew that the mart sold knives and blades. Deku…
“What’s wrong, Kacchan? Scared I might still be alive?” Bakugou tensed up. Whoever was there sounded exactly like Midoriya. But, Deku wasn’t here, was he?
Bakugou frantically looked around, and up the building, but couldn’t find the source of the voice. He exhaled, not knowing he was holding his breath. His mind was racing, and his heart was going to escape his chest. Why was he so scared? The voice wasn’t Deku.
“You look so defenseless, Kacchan. I wonder if you realize that you drove me to this point. I’m different because of you, Kacchan, so be proud!” The voice laughed. “I think you know this is all because of _you_.”
Bakugou fell to his knees, scraping his skin red and raw. He clutched his ears and screamed, not knowing if the disembodied voice of Deku was real or fake. He still heard his laughing in his head, and he figured it was himself. He was making the voice come to life. His mind was playing tricks on him, and he was the sole victim. No one outside heard his internal warfare in the alleyway.
Bakugou figured he needed to go back home. And quick. The UA entrance exam was coming close and he needed to be in the right mindset in order to make it in. Brushing off his knees, he gets up and does one quick sweep of his surroundings and starts to jog back home, ignoring the nagging in his brain that was telling him something was wrong.
* * *
Inko Midoriya was a different person. When she learned that her husband left her and their son, she was distraught. But she never showed that side of her to anyone, especially not to Izuku. When they went to the doctor to figure out about Izuku’s quirk, she apologized to her son about not having one. She knew it wasn’t her fault or his father’s, but she didn’t know what else to say to help him.
She noticed him starting to close up and isolate. When the other kids started developing quirks and making their powers their own. She noticed particularly how he behaved with Katsuki Bakugou. She knew his mother, and they talked regularly, so she knew all about his powerful explosions quirk. | ec5b743f6ebe41d8a321d365331f3a72 | ['480e38694105479081f4f1d189800296'] | Baku growled deeply, his sharp nails digging into the surface of the old wooden table. “Don’t make fun of me, fucker!”
“Don’t scratch the table! Mom’s gonna get pissed!” Izuku cried out in between the two glaring boys. When he looked sternly at Baku, _really_ staring into his rosy red eyes, he cleared his throat. His owner only replaced his stern frown with a bright smile when Baku scoffed and dropped his focus on Shouto.
“Yer lucky I haven’t bolted Deku, even if I could without getting sent to the labs, I totally would,” Baku rolled his eyes at his bright-eyed owner.
“You’ve been saying that since I’ve seen you like this. It’s not much of a threat anymore. Try harder.” Izuku turned his focus back to his friend, who just stared in awe at this whole situation. “So… Did you see any new movies? Catching up on Star Wars and Jurassic Park?”
Shouto sighed before answering. “My shitty dad saw me watch JP and wanted to join. With the fuckin’ cat. I swear, that asshole doesn’t understand how _long_ it takes to remove his long ass cat hair from everything I own.”
Baku scoffed and quickly shut up when Izuku sent him another glare. “Enji means well… I hope. Maybe next time ask Rei? I think she’ll enjoy watching them with you, if you ask first.”
“I think so,” Shouto starts, rolling the idea around in his head, “plus, that sourpuss is going to seriously injure my eye! I don’t like having a patch over half my face from some bloody scrapes!”
Izuku smiled at that, having already been well accustomed to Enji’s prized cat, Endeavor. “The cat hates you. He hates me too. He’ll probably hate Baku. The cat most definitely only likes Enji cause that’s who feeds him. Enji treats the fur-ball like a god.”
“I hate that what you just said is _completely_ true.” Shouto groans, hanging his head forward in defeat.
“I guess I should tell you some things about this guy, huh?” Izuku states to Shouto, throwing his thumb backwards to point back at Baku. Shouto nodded slowly, not really understanding the entire thing. “Okay, so… ah— I don’t even really know either. He doesn’t spill much, so he’s no help.”
Baku growled at Izuku, offended at his statement. “Excuse _you_ , I know I probably don’t look it, but I have some semblance of how to switch back and forth and shit.”
Izuku glanced over, curious as Shouto asked, “Okay, well, can you tell us?”
Baku coughed, uncharacteristically not liking being in the spotlight, even though he set himself up for it. “Uh, there’s certain… Certain shit that happens? Yeah. Like, if I’m in my normal form for too long, my ears will show and my tail forms again.”
Izuku raised his hand to interrupt him, “Wait… ‘Normal form’? The kitten form isn’t your—isn’t your ‘go-to’ form?”
“Hah?!” Baku sounded offended. “Fuck, no! This is ‘cause of some stupid lab experiments! The bratty asshole kid that had me before I ran away had a cat that had a litter and I went to pick up a kitty! The fucker’s dad decided to play Frankenstein and experimented!” Baku shivered, feeling the memories of needles and cold metals on his pale skin. “It was like I was—fucking, Nina Tucker and her fucking dog.”
“I understood that reference,” Shouto muttered, before giving Baku a sad look. “Hold on, aren’t those experiments _very_ prototype?”
“Yeah, as in: don’t fucking do it in your fucking nasty basement. The fucker thought he’d win like a Nobel Peace Prize or something… Then he _gifted me_ like I was some god damn puppy on Christmas morning to his brat.”
Izuku shuddered. “Well! I’m done with depressing shit today! Shouto, are you staying over tonight or are you heading back? I’ll make dinner if you’re hungry. I was gonna call Ochako ‘bout those rumors. Can’t soil my already bad reputation with her gossip.”
Shouto blinked before answering. “I think I’ll stay. You’ve got the new Star Wars movies right?”
Izuku nodded excitedly. “Good! I’ve got some theories about Han and Leia,” Shouto smirked as he cracked his knuckles.
3. Baku Brings a (un)Welcomed Guest
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Shouto leaves after a threat from Baku, which wasn't really threatening. Izuku regrets showing Shouto the whole Star Wars series.
>
> A dog brings back Baku. The dog isn't a dog.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> getting back into the writing mood btiches! (typo, not fixing it.) another shifter comes into play...
>
> afo, what in the jesus loving dick are you doing in that basement????
>
> enjoy!!!
>
> (uh, i'm a reylo shipper so yeah i question their future relationship... no h8,,, but the whole star wars universe is just family drama. the skywalkers are so dramatic)
Shouto ended up staying overnight and into the next day’s afternoon. Baku was going to lose his mind if he heard _one more thing_ about Rey’s and Kylo Ren’s future relationship.
“Who the fuck cares about two space nerds fighting in space about some past family drama? This whole series is _bullshit_.” Baku throws the TV remote at Deku, growling at him to change the channel when he catches it.
“Baku, please, he needs to catch up with the nerd cultures! The poor boy doesn’t understand much!” Izuku teased. “Weren’t you into any of this stuff when you weren’t, uh… Like this?”
“Gotta be the best, there’s no relax time for this crap. Any time I would spend obsessing over this I could be either sleeping or working.”
Shouto cracked a smile. “No wonder you’ve got a whole ass tree trunk up your ass.” |
92e8b582ca2e4fc9bcaba8a60acd031d | ['48105de7692b4afd9b56c9da77467817'] | She turns around and sees that the woman who is always getting lunch at her restaurant is about to come in. She fixes her outfit, loosens her hair and starts walking to the reception. “You are so obvious. You always fix yourself up every time she comes in.” Roan says, shaking his head. “You even take care of the cashing machine. That's not your job.”
“I'm just being responsible.” She says, walking to the cashing machine. “I'll take over here, thank you.” She moves the cashier and takes her place. Roan gives her a mischievous look. “Oh. Shut up, I'm just working.” She lies, fixing her shirt to have a bigger cleavage.
“You don't act like this when Thelonious Jaha comes to grab his lunch.” He pokes her arm, funny.
“He is like my uncle. What a twisted mine that of yours.” She frowns, disgusted. “Go to the kitchen and stop bothering me. Or I'll fire you.” She threatens.
Roan laughs, walking to the kitchen. “Don't make me laugh.”
The girl walks inand heads to the reception. “Hey” she says, with a little smile on her face.
Clarke smiles back. “Let me guess. A turkey sandwich with onions and white cheese.” She says.
“Am I that predictable?” The girl asks, laughing. She has a cute laugh.
“Is just luck.” She shrugs, putting a glove in her hand to grab the food. “You've ordered this, like, 20 times.”
“Oh, you are counting them?” The girls raises an eyebrow, flirty.
“It's an approximation.” Clarke answers, laughing a little. “Don't you wanna try something new?” She asks her. She has better things in her restaurant than a turkey sandwich.
The girl smirks and shrugs. “Surprise me.”
“Okay. Do you like meatballs?” She asks. Her meatball sandwich is amazing.
“I do.” The girls answers. Clarke grabs the meatball sandwich and starts wrapping it up for a take-away. “Hm, how come you're not wearing your name in your shirt?” The girl asks, a little shy.
She laughs, “Clarke. My name is Clarke.” She introduces herself.
“Lexa.” The girl, who now has a name, answers.
Clarke cashes the money and gives Lexa her sandwich. When the last one is about to leave, she interrupts her. “Don't you wanna leave your name and your number in the bowl? Whoever wins gets a free lunch.” She tells her. It's true, but she is only telling her so she can have her number.
Lexa comes back and writes all of her information in one of the cards. “How about a dinner on me?” She says smirking and leaving the card in the bowl before getting out of the restaurant.
Clarke moves fast to reach the bowl. “Stop.” Roan suddenly appears behind her, causing her to jump in her place and curse. “Too desperate. You have to wait until she is out of sight.” He tells her.
She listens to him, waiting until she can't see her anymore and then basically attacking thethe bowl. “Sam. Monroe. Dustin...” she starts saying the names out loud. How can she not find it? She just left it there a minute ago. “Here! Lexa.” She smiles for a moment and then frowns. “Wait, here's another. And another. Oh my God, how many Lexas live in this city?” She complains taking 8 out different Lexas from the bowl.
Roan laughs beside her. “I call this karma for threatening to fire your best cook.” He says, touching her shoulder before going back to the kitchen.
“Five. That's how old you mentally are.” She shouts at him.
Clarke is taking a bath with the 8 different cards in a table next to her. She is planning on calling each one of them until she finds the one. “Hey, I'm Clarke from Jake's.” She called the place like that in memory of her dad, who always knew she would make it. “Did you-” she starts asking but the person on the other side hangs the phone. Nope. It's not that Lexa.
She calls three more Lexas and none of them were her. “Hey, it's Clarke from Jake's. Any chance that you asked me on a date today?” She asks, basically praying for her to be this one.
“Why are you calling my wife?” A deep voice says from the other side of the phone.
“Wrong number.” She hangs quickly. She calls two more. One of them was straight, and the other was an 70 year old lady who was flattered but she doesn't date anymore. She calls the last one, “Hey, I'm Clarke from Jake's. I really hope you are the Lexa who asked me on a date today, because you are the last on in the bowl and-“ she gets interrupted by an incoming call. “Excuse me. I have a call.” She hangs the phone and takes it. “Yeah?”
“Am I speaking with Clarke Griffin?” A deep voice that she has never heard before asks.
“Yes. You are.” She answers.
“I'm Kane. Do you have any relation with Monty and Harper Green?” He asks.
“Yes. They're my best friends.” She says. There's a big silence in the other side of the line. “Sir?” She asks.
“We need you to come to the police station.” He says after a while. Her heart beats start raising. No. Please don't be it. — she thinks. “There has been an accident.” Her heart stops. She hangs the phone. It can't be.
She gets out of the shower as soon as she can,puts on her pajamas, even though she is all wet, and gets in her car. | 0acf0b996c314586b5261981c19775d1 | ['48105de7692b4afd9b56c9da77467817'] | "Whatever helps you sleep at night, my friend." She answers, and he just shakes he's head.
They sit in front of each other in the table and start eating. Jake's cook is awesome, Bellamy doesn't remember even one time in which he ate something that wasn't that good cooked by him. But he can remember eating bad things that Abby had cooked... yes, the kitchen isn't her area; but the OR is.
As always, both of the families started talking about trivial things of life. But it's so fun how they jump from one subject to another. Bellamy loves when they all start laughing so hard and can't seem stop.
"So, sixteen." Aurora says, looking at Clarke with a big smile on her face. "I can't believe how fast you've grown up. I remember when I first met you, you were so little. But I knew, from the moment I saw you, that you were going to be the best thing to ever happen to my children." Bellamy can see how his mother is about to tear up, and Clarke too. They are both so emotional. Aurora's eyes move to Raven now. "And you were a surprise Raven, the best one. I'm so grateful for you too." Aurora is not always around to be with them when they're sad or something, because she's always working. So Bellamy knows how much it truly means to her that O and him have Clarke and Raven in their lives. Raven simply smiles at her.
"Yes, she's so big." Abby starts talking. "Everything is changing. She had to buy a bunch of new bikinis and bras because hers didn't fit her anymore. She has such big boobs. It's awesome." She adds, looking proudly at her daughter.
Bellamy looks at Clarke, who is more red than a tomato right now. He smirks, raising both of his eyebrows. "We can see." He tells her with his lips, and she kicks him.
"Asshole." Clarke mutters, rolling her eyes and pretending to be pissed. But he can see the corner of her lips dancing, trying not to smile.
He smirks, leaning over the table to get closer to her. "Yeah. But a hot one."
"Oh. A smug asshole... good combination." She rises an eyebrow as she takes her food to her mouth.
"One day you'll admit I'm hot. You are just too stubborn to do it now."
Clarke shrugs. "Maybe... in your dreams."
"So, Bellamy. This is your last year. Are you excited?" Jake changes the subject, clearly because he noticed the suffer on his daughter's face.
"Kind of." He doesn't want to say he's terrified about what the future holds for him, that he's sad because he won't get to go to school with Clarke, Raven and Octavia anymore.
"And where are you going to go to college? Is it far?" Jake keeps asking, and Bellamy can notice a little bit of sadness in his eyes. Suddenly, he feels uncomfortable. He would really like to go to one of those fancy colleges that are way to far away from their town, and he could easily have a scholarship because he's the best in all of his classes... but, at the same time, he knows he can't. Even though he knows his sister would be fine, that she has Raven and Clarke, he can't. He wants to be here if she needs a hug, a talk, or someone to kick her in the ass because she made a huge mistake.
Bellamy looks at Clarke, who looks as uncomfortable as him with this subject. Yeah. He couldn't leave her neither, he couldn't even stand the thought of leaving her.
"I'm just going to go to the college that's on the town. Y'all aren't going to get rid of me. Not ever." He replies, looking at Clarke. He swears he saw her relax her shoulders as soon as those words left his mouth.
"Oh, Praimfaya?" Jake asks, and he nods. "It's good, I went there." He tells him.
The dinner continued with them talking about all kinds of stuff. Later, they all gave Clarke's their gifts to her. Her parents gave her a set of paints, Aurora gave her a bracelet, Octavia a hug with the excuse that 'love is the best gift you could ask for', and Raven a strange object saying 'so you already have a present to give me on my birthday. You're welcome.' And, even though Bellamy wanted to kill them for not giving her a proper gift, everything was forgotten when Clarke burst into laughs when they gave the gifts to her. She doesn't care about the presents, he should've remember that.
"Mine is on my house." He says, drawing everyone's attention to him, especially Clarke's. He turns around and starts walking to the door, and smiles when he hears Clarke's little steps from behind.
"Bellamy Blake, what has your extra ass bought?" She asks, walking next to him.
"You'll have to see it with your own eyes." he answers with a little smirk.
They both walk to his house, and when they're already inside she talks again. "So? Where is it?"
She is like a kid, always so impatient. "Relax, Princess. It's upstairs." He says. And, as soon as she hears that, she runs upstairs. Bellamy laughs and shakes his head, amused, before following her.
When he gets upstairs, Clarke is waiting for him. He walks past her and stops in front of the guest's room. He clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck, nervous. "It's inside." He says, pointing at the door with his head. Clarke looks at him, as she leans forward to reach the door handle. She looks at him one more time, almost as she was looking for his approval, and he nods inviting her to open the door. |
32325ed7817848f6912c044640f91217 | ['48146869238041bdae4051645a8fdb75'] | Trixie winces. Even with a head injury, with his voice small and hoarse, his tongue’s still loaded. Still barbed. He sees a weakness, an opening, and he’s gotta hit it. Always. (Even when he doesn’t mean what he says. Especially when he doesn’t mean what he says.)
Now, it’s gonna get him thrown out of a car. Trixie braces for impact.
But miraculously, Zamo just cackles. He glances over at him and his eyes are bright. His smile is bright. Everything about him is bright and Trixie kinda wants to keep him that way: looked pleasantly surprised, off-guard, impressed. Trixie smiles, even though it pulls his bloodied skin too tight. He can’t help himself. And this is it, Trixie realizes, this is why the Manson girls cuddled up to the cult and wove bloody flowers into their hair.
“You fucking...You are quick,” Zamo chuckles, “What’s your name?”
Trixie pauses, unssure how much information he should release. (All things considered with the betrayal and the sabotage and the shooting and all...it’s a valid concern.)
“You can make one up,” Zamo suggests, sensing his conflict, “It’s...I mean, I don’t care.”
Trixie thinks of the nights he played dress-up with Kim, the doll he’s painted on his face, augmented onto his body, and whipped onto his scalp. He thinks of that creature swaying in his mirror and the twisted pink car steaming on the side of the road in industrial Bohan. He thinks of that name—that word—that still stings whenever he hears it in passing, remembers the greasy spray of his stepfather’s chewing tobacco whenever he spat it out through yellowed teeth. Mocked him with it. He remembers how it always made him feel so small.
He feels small now, doused with self-pity and resentment. So, that name is as fitting as anything. It’s probably the most fitting name for him right now.
“Trixie,” he sighs, lifting a hand from his knee, “Just...call me Trixie, I guess.”
Zamo mulls it over, nodding as he adjusts his cap. “Well….if you’re Trixie,” Zamo says, “you can call me... _Katya_.”
Through Zamo’s coy smile, there’s a secret. There’s another private joke. And this time, Trixie’s not supposed to get it; and for some stupid reason, he’s bothered by it.
“Ah, fuck me with a rake,” Katya mutters through clenched teeth.
Ahead, Trixie sees _red-blue-red-blue-red-blue_ strobing in distant street puddles. Any second, the cops are gonna turn onto their road. Katya cuts the wheel and pulls into a narrow alleyway, nixing the engine. The music stops. The cabin goes completely dark. Unconsciously, Trixie holds a breath as two cruisers zip down the road, lights flashing, sirens blaring, completely overlooking the stolen car parked in the alley.
Thank you, God. Or whoever.
Thank you.
Shutting his eyes, Trixie exhales, sliding lower in the seat. The rushing relief makes his entire body flush and warm and gooey, appreciative of every rag n’ bone texture, every quiet sound. He loves the sound of Katya’s breathing—the slight wheeze of it. Humming, Trixie rubs the heel of his hand against his eye.
He wants to ask, “What now? Where to?” Because he wants to go somewhere with him. Wherever he’ll take him...as long as it’s far away from this collapsed vein of road. He wants nothing more than to clean up, curl up, and then wake up to the fragrance of warm raspberry tea, the quiet circus of kiddy cartoons, the touch of dirty socks rucked up at the end of the bed.
Of course, being a natural artist-luminary-and-innovator, Trixie imagines Katya’s dark, chintzy bachelor pad somewhere downtown, decorated with tasteless art and weird knick-knacks and tacky fabrics. With all the ostentatious eccentricities of someone who gets rich quick and knows it can’t possibly last. He imagines sitting at the edge of this stranger’s bed while Katya dabs his head with a warm compress, cooing over his wound like he really cares that each touch smarts like the very first hit. He imagines Katya’s fingertips against his chin, his jaw, coaxing his head this way and that way for the perfect angle. And then the wet, hot suction of his lips beneath Trixie’s ear and an insistent palm spreading against his chest. Oh, it’s so incredibly dumb. Not to mention embarrassing, even in the privacy of his own psyche. But it’s nicer. Nicer than thinking he’s gonna die in a jagged, burning heap of metal or he’s gonna get booked and then die in prison for looking at Yahtzee the Nazi the wrong way.
Trixie startles at the red-blue lights flashing behind his eyelids, opens them to see Katya staring at the rearview.
“Shit,” he breathes, sucking at his teeth, “Shit.”
A cruiser sits at the mouth of the alleyway: blinking, silent. When the cop shuts off his lights, emerging from the car, Trixie recognizes him. It’s that Sludgie-slurping, stone-faced patrolman sitting in the lot of the RON station. He’s tall, hulking, a real-jarhead swinging his maglite around like he’s itching to crack some skulls. In a porn situation, Trixie might be into it. (Might. Might.) But right now, every instinct screams _danger_ , screams _psycho_ , screams _run_ ; and growing up the way he did, Trixie knew when to trust those instincts.
The doberman’s eyes reflect the night, like two shifting points of dark gold, and the dog presses its snout against the window, smearing snot angels over the glass.
Katya pops the glovebox. Thick scrolls of cash tumble between Trixie’s knees.
“Are you kidding me….” Trixie nudges a roll of cash with his dirty shoe, staring at a twenty-dollar bill defaced with devil horns and a monocle. Fishing it out by the rubber band, Katya chooses that roll to pocket.
“Is this...you just had all of this in your real car? How much did you leave behind?”
“Hey.”
Trixie’s eyes sweep over the small fortune at his feet.
Katya snaps his fingers. “Hey. Listen.” | 1048928de9264699a4aadd2d9d71521f | ['48146869238041bdae4051645a8fdb75'] | (He won’t judge: One of his tried-and-trues is a gangbang with Slader Steele dressed as Jason Voorhees, so...that’s _his_ life and his reality.)
Taking a bite, Trixie peeks over Katya’s shoulder and _sees_ it.
Oh. Wow.
Okay.
“Are you....?” Trixie cackles. “Is that... _Ninja Turtles_?!”
He slides into the other seat as Katya grabs the edge of the screen, pivoting the laptop in his direction.
“Don’t knock it ‘till ya try it,” he says with a sly smile, grabbing his coffee and swirling the half-melted ice.
Trixie scoops up his cereal, watching Raphael dick down Michelangelo while Master Splinter pulls the padge. They’re even in a sewer, an open box of pizza forgotten in the background.
Trixie laughs. “Oh my God.”
“Does it _tickle your pickle,_ Tina Marie?”
“I don’t hate it,” he admits with a wide smile.
“I mean...Cowabunga _,_ “ Katya says, as if it explains everything--and Trixie laughs, because it actually does.
“I was trying to look up places in the Grand Senora where we can lay low after the delivery,” Katya explains, emphasizing with his hands, “Cash-only, rent-by-the-hour dumps. You know the drill.”
He pulls the laptop back his way. The porn goes mute.
Trixie nods, taking a crunch from his spoon. “Yeah. And?”
“Slim pickins. There is _nothing_ out there.”
“Fuck.”
“ _Yeah_.”
It’ll be a problem if they can’t find a suitable hideout for a few days. After the hit, they’ve gotta let the manhunt cool off a little before they boost another ride and punch it North. Plus, who knows what kind of injuries they might sustain after all this....
Alaska tried to make the Op sound like a piece of cake, but Trixie knows better. If it was nothing, she wouldn’t be shelling out a cool 1.5 million to have it done. This isn’t one of their usual hit-and-runs. This is a prolonged, time-sensitive campaign with a lot of moving parts and unpredictable variables. They’re not gonna go unnoticed, not while they’re driving through the night in a sparkling Överflöd Roxxxy. They’re gonna draw heat from all sides.
Taking out Detox is gonna be like kicking a hornet’s nest and Trixie’s always hated bees.
He can recall a _real fluffy_ moment when he was little: tearing-up as he teetered on top of a ladder, protected by nothing but a pair of rubber gloves as Jim jostled the leg and barked at him to tear that “goddamn wasp cone” out of the soffit. (The end result was...as you would expect.)
This job is gonna be something like that. It’s gonna be tough. Maybe their toughest ever.
_Definitely_ their toughest ever.
It’s worth it, though, right? It’ll be worth it.
They can do it.
(Chinatown.)
They can do anything.
(Just don’t think about Chinatown.)
He knows they can.
(It won’t happen again.)
Trixie feels a sting in his gut, thinks for a minute that if he reaches down, he’ll be able to feel the nebulous impact bruise where he was shot. When his spoon scrapes against the bottom of the bowl, he can hear the crushed bullet clattering into the sink. He can see it in his hand.
(What happened in Chinatown will _not_ happen again.)
He’s gotta focus on the future: tuning his guitar on a crisp autumn night, hearing the hoot of an owl after dessert, seeing Katya’s breath as he laughs in the fresh snow.
Trixie chews slow, rotating his spoon over the bowl and watching the milk drip, trying not to see blood.
“...The only place remotely close to Alaska’s rendezvous point is this trailer park,” Katya mumbles, reading the screen, “Shady Shores.”
Wait. Hold on.
“We don’t have to stay at a motel,” Trixie declares, feeling triumphant as he taps his spoon against the bowl, “I know somebody who lives out there.”
“You do? _Who_?”
“Oh, just A.J,” he replies with a shrug, “But if we cut him a grand or two, it won’t be a problem. We can crash there for a few days.”
Katya’s stare is _blank,_ having registered nothing that Trixie’s just said...at all.
“Who’s A.J.?” Katya asks, purposefully light and airy. Oblivious. There’s an unsettling innocence in the way his eyes are so open and inquisitive, his smile so hesitant.
And then it dawns on Trixie: He never bothered to tell Katya about A.J.
Oh, my God. Now, _that’s_ funny.
Trixie flops back against the chair, laughing a little as Katya squirms around, waiting for an answer. For a sec, Trixie’s tempted to lie.
“My uh...I guess my boyfriend?”
“Huh.”
“Before you and I met up again.”
Katya blinks and then laughs loud. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t remember you telling me about him _at all_.”
“I don’t ever think I told you,” Trixie blurts out, regretting it when he sees Katya’s face fall a little bit.
“Oh.” Katya sits straighter in the chair.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to like…” He reaches for Katya’s hand. “...blindside you or anything.”
“No, it’s okay. I never asked. I never asked about anybody,” Katya says then, his face contemplative. He stares off into space and pulls his hand away, crunching down on a cube of ice, “I can’t believe I never asked.”
“Mitya...I’ve never asked you about any of your exes, either,” Trixie points out. He’s actually...deliberately avoided the subject.
“Yeah. Yeah,” Katya concedes, mulling it over before he smiles, slow and evil, a twinkle in his eye, “Well, you already _killed_ one of ‘em, Bessie.”
Trixie crows with laughter. It’s a private, shameless cackle that only Katya wouldn’t judge him harshly for. With one swing, he guaranteed Officer Asshole a closed-casket funeral...and he’s never been able to feel entirely bad about it.
“But does he really count?” Trixie says, just to be a bitch, just to spit on his grave, “I mean...did he _ever_?”
“God, no,” Katya scoffs, crossing himself, “Rest in fucking pieces, motherfucker.” |
efff8fb80bf647e3be2da94ae51eb04f | ['4842ec49b51d4ffaba9a49ad3c46aa6c'] | Stiles slumps there for a moment, just tugging back and forth a little with his hips, feeling the slick slide against his dick as Scott just pants damply beneath him. He pulls out slowly, shoving back blankets so he can watch when his dick tugs free, dripping a little. He rubs at Scott’s hole just for a moment before Scott is whining and tugging him down, wrapping around him like an octopus so they’re face to face, kicking each other to get the right leg configuration.
“Dude, you’re gonna get jizz everywhere,” Stiles protests and Scott just chomps on his ear affectionately, kissing his face and rubbing his fingers against Stiles’ scalp. Stiles relaxes with a grumble and Scott murmurs against his ear, “We won’t make a mess if you clean me up..”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Previous stoner bfs LINK.
2. Scott/Stiles, Stoner bfs 6 - socal road trip, T
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> I have a deep love for Santa Monica+Venice, CA <3
They sit on a stone bench, looking out into the water and holding hands, knees poking out of torn jeans and tucked against each other. Stiles’ hands are rougher and he’s terrible at rolling, always tearing the thin paper in his haste. Scott is slower, more methodical - he once rolled them twenty and they spent a school vacation smoking through them, wandering out to the preserve or down to the ice cream store for enormous sundaes like when they were kids.
They had decided they needed a real break and driven down south for a week during the early summer, winding their way along the coast and stopping to make out at some of the famous scenic points along highway 101. The drive isn’t really that long but they make it last over a day or two, and sleep in the back of the jeep curled together.
They made it to Santa Monica in late morning, grabbing brunch and enormous cups of sweet “chocolate coffee nonsense beverages,” as Stiles solemnly dubbed them. They drove further to Venice, and the afternoon finds them blinking against the bright metallic sheen of the ramps along the beach as the watch the local skaters twist and jump. Stiles curls into Scott to light up a joint, tasting the paper and the resin against his lips, the feel of a sticky kiss when Scott ducks in.
They stay for hours, and the day lasts forever - they pick up pupusas in a tiny tucked away hole in the wall and sit on the sunwarmed pavement to stuff their faces and fan their burning mouths.
The sun’ll go down soon, but Scott reels Stiles in for lazy, sweet kisses, traded slowly, in a haze, and there doesn’t seem to be any reason to go anywhere for now.
3. Scott/Stiles, Stoner bfs 7 - sad days (bonus stoner!Allydia), M
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> (depression cw)
Sometimes one or the other of them has a day where they wake up and nothing is objectively wrong but…they’re just sad. Stiles lies in bed for hours and stares at the ceiling, spinning out inside his mind. Scott goes through the motions but everyone notices something is off, because he’s terrible at hiding his emotions; the kittens at the vet clinic cuddle that much closer and the dogs look up at him with liquid eyes, unsure what to do.
When these days come, whether it’s one or both of them feeling this way at the same time, they know by now that the best thing to do is to cuddle up at home or at the park, watch something outside of themselves, experience a little bit of the world that’s outside the senselessness of their sadness.
Scott rolls them pretty blunts using his favorite paper, wears his softest sweaters so that he and Stiles feel like they have an extra layer of something cuddling them at all times. Stiles always slings his arm protectively over Scott’s shoulders, is never not touching him. The warm asphalt below them, they hold each other loosely and watch Allison practice her ollies at the park, watch Lydia next to them watching her with avid eyes. Every so often Lydia accepts a hit, when Scott offers– she likes the peach papers too and she leans against Scott’s back as she breathes the smoke in, slow and idle, lounging like a jungle cat. With her cheek pressed against his back, she can feel his heart beating.
At night, the boys rewatch Hackers and Mean Girls and laugh, chasing away nightmares with the rest of the brownies they made, pressing thumbs into the corners of each others’ mouths when they kiss, let go into the haze winding through their bodies. They almost never do anything when they get like this besides rub against each other idly, slowly, petting each other and murmuring, getting off in quiet shivers as they fall into it, almost surprised.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Ah yes, my dirty skater love, and also my love of neurodivergent+functional relationships. These boys (& girls) I s2g.
>
> Stoner bfs 8 is LINK, I just didn't want to post it twice.
4. Derek/Scott + relationship struggles
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> My tumblr peeps LINK so I tried to make it better T_T (these poor boys just LET THEM LOVE EACH OTHER)
It’s cold but it’s almost Thanksgiving, and even before they started fighting they bought tickets home, so they go home, the long plane ride passing in silence as Scott naps and Derek reads. | 070b030d2d38441281fe9781f8537e52 | ['4842ec49b51d4ffaba9a49ad3c46aa6c'] | The firmness of the floor is soothing, sometimes, and Stiles feels his heels heavy against the solidness of it, his back slowly settling into alignment. Everything is too much sometimes and so he lets it tug him downward, following the trail of it idly.
Scott is really good at noticing when it’s happening; at listening when Stiles says, “Man, I don’t know,” and hearing “Scott, I don’t know about anything anymore.”
Scott takes him to bed and drapes him in blankets and flops on top of him, knowing that Stiles feels comforted by it, Scott’s chest anchoring against Stiles’ back as they breathe together.
Sometimes it passes in days, sometimes weeks; a few times it’s been months and more often it’s hours, strange moods flitting through like reminders of what could have been. Scott’s resilient, holds stiles close, accepts that here, he’s enough, they’re perfect in their corresponding bruises.
When it passes, as Stiles has forgotten it can, and as inevitably it always does, everything lightens; they kiss for hours as the sun goes down, cuddled close and warm, just kissing and kissing until they fall asleep.
10. Allison/Lydia + play rough-housing + lingerie, T
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Anonymous asked:
> If you wanna talk about Allydia play rough-housing and trying to not damage lingerie while doing so, I'm all ears.
Lydia closes her eyes, relishing the pressure on her wrists and Allison’s weight on her thighs. The bed is soft underneath her and she squirms, tilting her chin back in the way she knows drives Allison crazy, but Allison smirks, sees right through her, and Lydia pouts. She’s rewarded with a roll of Allison’s eyes, a huffed breath, and a sharp nip at her collarbone, one wrist released so Allison can snap the strap of her pale pink bralette.
The top is terrible for support but she’d put it on before Allison came over, reveling in the secret of it underneath her top, the little bows studding the fabric at the corners and the center; it’s gathered in the middle and she loves the way her breasts look in the mirror, soft curves and hints of her nipples through the sheer lace fabric. It takes Allison longer than expected to give up on homework and strip Lydia out of her top, but the look on her face when she saw what was underneath it was worth it.
Lydia had moved to straddle Allison and Allison had stopped her, eyes dark and promising; Lydia didn’t usually see this side of Allison, ached to find out what brought it out, with them so new that every point in common they found was like lightning. She’d remember this one, could see her drawers overflowing with pale straps and dark lace to complement the bruises Allison would leave on her throat.
Lydia moans as Allison grabs at her breasts roughly, pinching at her nipples through the fabric, and Allison presses Lydia’s wrists down into the mattress again when she tries to move, tries to get on top, tries to take the lead.
Lydia struggles for a moment and goes limp when Allison noses up her neck and sucks a kiss underneath her ear, and she begs for a kiss with mouth open and bitten-red, suddenly desperate; Allison kisses her like it’ll never end, lets her weight bear Lydia down, and Lydia deliriously thinks that this plan worked better than she had ever expected.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> LINK
11. Cora/Lydia + bedsharing, T
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> mighty-alphalpha asked:
> Cordia + having to share a bed for some reason?
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Pls handwave canon because I remember almost nothing about Cora + storyline continuity :)
They used to circle around each other like cats, slender and fierce and wary in their poise and their grace. It was difficult for them to see eye to eye, both with their own methods and biases, Cora more likely to charge into a fight, Lydia at the sidelines with head cocked and a frustrated, vengeful scream at exactly the right moment to tip the scales in their favor.
Derek heals slowly this time around, stomach scored deeply from alpha claws; his bed is still in the middle of everything in the loft and he refuses to be babied, even as he concedes the point of needing to stay still to let his insides knit back together. Derek falls asleep finally and the pack finishes tending to their wounds, trickling out in pairs to find their ways home.
Cora stays because, well, she lives there, and Lydia stays because this one was her fault, she didn’t get there in time and Derek took four claws the size of steak knives to the gut instead of the handshake with the rival pack that he’d expected. It haunts Lydia, sometimes, the way she sees them all so fragile on the border of life and death, how a moment too early or too late could be the end of them. She carries it alone, mostly, and it’s terrifying.
So Derek sleeps and Lydia watches Derek and Cora watches Lydia. It doesn’t make much sense to Cora, why Lydia cares so much or why she stays, but it endears Lydia to her nonetheless. And of course she’s noticed Lydia, with her hair and her lips and eyes you could drown in, but this softness towards Derek is a different side of her and Cora likes it.
It’s late and Lydia is literally just watching Derek sleep like a creeper, so Cora comes up next to her and slowly, carefully, brushes Lydia’s hair back off of her shoulder. Lydia watches her now, attention broken, eyes dark and lost.
“Come on, you can share with me,” Cora says quietly, and though she expected at least a little resistance, Lydia comes easily, standing with a last glance at Derek and following Cora to her room. |
1dff9bbd332942a2a2435491f3ab5853 | ['4843130124724153804bc72f416a17b9'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> hope you like it !
When Mary Margret and the other fairy tale characters arrived in storybrooke instead of Snow white losing her memories Regina locked her in a tower in the woods where she could see her fellow friends walk around living a life that they aren’t supposed to be living.
When Snow white first arrived Regina was nowhere to be found she Snow tried many ways to get out of the castle but it was useless she was trapped. She saw everyone in storybrooke happy and content they didn’t even remember her. They all acted like it didn’t matter, which was even worse more the fact she was locked in a tower with no food or water.
The first time she saw Regina after the curse she had short black hair, and she wore strange clothing like a suit just darker. Regina brought food with her also why Snow thought why Regina had not done to her what she had done to the rest of them?
Regina used a later to come up on the side of the tower when she got up Snow stood waiting. Regina said “so I see you haven’t died of hunger, well good thing I did not waste my time by coming here.”
Snow looked Regina up and down before saying, “What have you done Regina, where are we, where’s charming.”
Regina placed the food on the floor and said “you ask a lot of questions for a prisoner, but so be it they have forgotten who they are, so there can be no more happy endings.”
Snow then said “what about me I am not cursed, why curse everyone and not me.” Snow sat down next to the fire wonder in her eyes.
Regina said “sweet Snow I always knew you were not the smartest but I have never seen you as this stupid. Think, it’s not like you don’t have time. “Regina laughed at this knowing full well that Snow did not think it so funny.
Snow stood up and said “so you’re going to lock me here and let me watch as you ruin everyone I have ever loved live, everyone good.”
Regina walked over to Snow placing her hand upon Snows cheek and said “oh you’re right about that, but it will be much more because I am going to make you suffer everyday of your miserable life.” She was now clutching Snow possessively as she whispered, Snow feeling Regina’s heated breath on her cheeks, anyways you belong to me now, I can do anything I want with you and you don’t have any power to stop me, a princess locked in a tower, the only difference here is no prince charming is here to save you this time.”
Snow said “where is he I have not seen him around, Snow feeling the hurt hit her like a ton of bricks whispered you killed him, tears forming in her eyes, you evil witch this wasn’t enough for you, you had to kill him too.”
Regina placed her finger on Snows red lips to quite her down and said “oh, poor Snow he is not dead he is just asleep, and that is where he will stay for a very long time.” Regina took her finger away and let Snow go and went for the basket she brought and took out a long chain and said “you will where this around your ankle so I know you won’t be getting out.”
Snow stood and said “why would I do that Regina, so I have even less chance of saving the people I love.”
Regina said “because if you don’t not only will I starve you to death, your prince charming won’t survive either, only you and me and Snow I don’t think you want this.” Snow pulled her dress up so her leg was showing up to her knee.
Snow said “congratulation, Regina you have won, you can lock me up do anything you want with me just don’t hurt my loved ones.” Regina strode over to Snow and placed her hand on her thigh, locking the chain around her ankle before locking it and throwing the key in her pocket.
Regina said “that’s a good girl, now I am going to go there is enough food and water to last you a couple weeks, I will be back with more.”
Snow looked up teary eyed and said “you’re leaving, what I to do in here am, I will go crazy all alone.”
Regina said “Alone is all I have ever wanted, Snow you have nobody, you’re all alone and that is how you will stay for the rest of your existence.”
Snow grabbed Regina’s hand in a small cry for a little comfort and said “I know that you love me, deep down. If you ever want to be forgiven you won’t leave me in here, put me in the town with everyone else, Regina, please.”
But Regina was not in the mood and she ripped her hand away disgusted and said “I would never want your forgiveness, you are a pathetic woman Snow, always looking for love in all the wrong places, I don’t love you Snow and I never will.” She then smirked before stepping towards the window.
Snow looked down in defeat before sitting down on the bed Regina slid down the side and yelled, “You have fun now dear.”
2. Rapunzel 2
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> when snow white angers the queen, nothing good comes of it.
Rapunzel chapter 2 | 7973411ed26a483f88e1c2cae7804047 | ['4843130124724153804bc72f416a17b9'] | Days went by sense Regina had left and Snow was becoming more and more lonely. The only thing she had to keep her company in this world was herself, she found herself having conversation in her head. There had been nothing in the tower accept for the food. There was also a big ledge in the front where Snow watched her old friends go through their lives in a fog.
She still didn’t see charming, which meant Regina had left him in the sleeping curse. Snow knew why Regina hated her but what she didn’t understand was how she hated her so much she could ruin innocent lives because of it. Snow knew Regina loved her why else had she not killed her all the times she had. When she poisoned Snow with the apple, and even now she could have killed Snow but she locked her in a tower instead.
Regina would never admit it but Snow knew that Regina loved her. Snow thought that maybe Regina would realize that and release her and her friends. It was the only bit of hope that Snow had, if only Regina could dig deep down she would know her true feelings.
When Regina did come back she smirked when she saw Snow disheveled, her hair was mated and her hands had dirt over them from painting on the wall with mud. When Snow saw Regina she also smiled sweetly for Regina was the only person she had seen sense Regina had left the first time.
Snow took the food from Regina and placed them under the bed, like Regina was a guest in her home Snow also offered Regina a chair. Regina took it and said “I see you have been well”. She said it with such a disgusted look it made Snow want to hide. Snow knew from her childhood that that looked only meant trouble.
Snow looked down said “not really but, sure” trying to find the right thing to say to keep Regina from becoming angry.
Regina said “the more horrible it is the better, then she went to stand up, be back in a couple weeks, don’t have too much fun.”
Snow quickly blocked the window tears falling down her cheeks as pleaded, “please let me go with you, I won’t fight back I will do everything you tell me to, Regina I can’t stay up here anymore.”
Regina glared at Snow before hitting her across the face making her fall on her side, as she screamed “you don’t get to talk to me in that manner, do you understand me Snow, and you’re the prisoner.”
Snow stayed down as blood fell from her nose and dripped to the ground as she said through sobs, “yes Regina sorry.”
Regina cupped Snows chin as she said “you best remember that, now clean yourself up I will be back tomorrow so we can have a little fun.”
Snow ripped her chin away knowing what Regina meant and she said “no”. The tears turning to fear as she looked at Regina horrified.
Regina giggled while saying “oh yes Snow, you remember back at the castle how we had are fun when your daddy was away.” Snow could feel Regina’s words hit her like a ton of bricks and she quickly stood.
Snow backed away quickly from the window knocking things down as she said “it’s ok Regina you don’t have to come back.” Was all Snow could make out because her mouth was so dry.
Regina started to chuckle devilishly as she said “now Snow you really need to make up your mind, I thought poor Snow was lonely.” She sat back down which made Snow cringe at the thought of her staying any longer.
Snow put her hands to her stomach as she said “no more games Regina, please I am no longer a child.” She could feel Regina’s cold eyes look her up and down before saying “haven’t you taken enough from me already.”
Regina stopped laughing as she said hoarsely, “never, I will never be done ruining your life and everyone you have ever loved lives also.” Snow knew this was true, Regina would never give up but this didn’t anger Snow it only made her feel bad for Regina because of how much hurt the woman must feel to have treated her so cruelly her whole life.
Snow just looked down in shame knowing it was her fault Regina was this way to begin with. Regina started for the window once again this time Snow staying still as Regina said “loose that attitude by the time I come back, because if you don’t, I will make sure the pain is a hundred times wore and she slid down.
Snow watched from the window as Regina ran back to town not looking back once. Snow fell to her knees and she sobbed as all the memories from her childhood slowly started to pile up in her brain. |
d846d0377e084046bf245a11a52f4157 | ['485ffa7f27f847299e425e1b2f65dbb4'] | Lydia came home from classes around six. She found Allison and Scott curled up on the couch together watching a movie and she heard Stiles laughing in the kitchen. “Who’s with Stiles?” she asked to the couple.
“Derek Hale,” Allison answered wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.
Lydia glanced in the direction of the kitchen open doors and sure enough, that guy leaning against the counter was Derek.
“What is he doing here?” Lydia whisperedmoving closer to Allison.
“Stiles offered to help him with a cake,” Scott explained.
“They’re almost done, though. You should have seen them cleaning up while the cake was in the oven, it was adorable,” Allison sighed.
Lydia scowled and held out her hand, “Show me. Footage? Pictures?”
Allison and Scott looked at each other guilty. “Uhm, we didn’t think about taking pictures,” Scott confessed.
“Yeah, they were so cute it got out of our mind.”
Lydia opened her mouth to shout at them but promptly bit her lips, she didn’t want Stiels to hear her.
“I hate both of you. Is he going to tell him?”
Allison shook her head, “I don’t think so. It’s a pity, though. We’ve been watching them for more or less two hours and trust me, they’re so into each other.”
“He laughed. Derek Hale _laughed_ ,” Scott stated and Allison nodded to emphasize his point.
Lydia raised an eyebrow in confusion.
“Do you even listen when Isaac talks about him?” Allison lowered her voice, “The guy never smiles, okay? Yet, he smiles at Stiles and laughs.”
“Ohh,” Lydia said in realization.
“Yes, _ohh_. The problem is Stiles is too oblivious to do anything. And I’m guessing even Derek is,” Lydia hadn’t seen Scott this frustrated in a long time.
“Guess we’ll have to do something about it,” she said and stood from the couch. “But first, I need to see for myself.”
*
“I can’t believe you can’t cover the cake with the frosting,” Derek said talking the spatula from Stiles’ hands.
“Hey! Not everyone is a pro,” Stiles said in a fake offended tone.
“It doesn’t take a pro to smear the frosting around, Stiles.”
“I beg to differ,” Stiles mumbled taking a step back from the cake.
Derek looked at him for a moment then, “Come on, I’ll teach you.”
“What?”
Derek held up the spatula for Stiles to take it, “I’ll teach you, come here.”
Stiles took a tentative step towards Derek and took the spatula with his fingers. “You’re holding it wrong,” Derek said as he stepped behind Stiles, took Stiles' hands in his and readjusted Stiles’ grip on the object, his hand firmly curled around Stiles’. “If you hold it this way,” he said holding up Stiles’ hand for him to see, “you can control it better.”
Stiles let Derek’s hand guide his own.
“When you’re frosting the sides, it works better if you hold the spatula still and move the tray,” Derek said stepping behind Stiles to show him. He was pressed against the boy’s back, his left hand on the tray holding the cake and his right one clutching Stiles’ hand over the spatula, both of them too engrossed into the cake to notice the lack of personal space.
This was how Lydia found them when she walked into the kitchen. “It was about time someone taught him how to properly frost a cake,” she said studying carefully the position the two were in.
When he heard Lydia’s voice he jumped back, colliding with Derek’s chest. “Lydia! I didn’t hear you coming in. He’s Derek. Derek Hale, you know who he is. He’s teaching me how to frost a cake, well actually he needed help with-” Stiles rambled trying to distract Lydia from the position she had found them in. Stiles wriggled a bit trying to get away from Derek but Derek remained still.
“Stiles, stop,” Lydia interrupted him holding up a finger. “I didn’t get a word of what you were saying.”
Stiles blushed a little but Derek chuckled, letting go of Stiles and taking one step forward towards Lydia, “I'm Derek. Stiles was helping me baking a cake for my sister’s birthday.”
Lydia did a once-over and hummed approvingly, “I’m Lydia, Stiles’ best friend. You make a fabulous cherry pie, by the way.”
“Thanks,” Derek replied trying not to squirm under the girl’s scrutiny.
“Well,” Lydia said clapping her hands together. “It’s almost time for dinner, you’re staying,” it wasn’t a question.
“I’d love to, but I need to take the cake home and Laura will probably kill me if I’m not home for dinner with the cake.”
Stiles sulked a little but Lydia waved a hand in the air dismissively, “We can have dinner another time, don’t worry.”
Before Derek and Stiles could say anything, Lydia was talking again, “I’ll leave you two alone so you can continue with the cake,” she said fixing her gaze on Stiles but he pretended not to understand what Lydia wanted him to do.
“Well, the cake is ready,” Derek said looking at the red velvet they baked together. It was perfect, Cora will love it.
“Yep, you can make more frosting tomorrow and add some decorations maybe,” Stiles suggested.
Derek hummed in agreement and wrapped the cake into one of those paper boxes that he had stolen from the bakery, “I should get going and put this in the fridge. Thanks for your help.”
Stiles shrugged as he lead Derek to the door. As soon as they entered the room Lydia shooed Allison and Scott into one of the bedrooms leaving the two of them alone.
“I’ll let you know if Cora likes it.”
“I'm sure she will,” Stiles winked. | 8f8fd3ff9c884581a0910a63463c4ec7 | ['485ffa7f27f847299e425e1b2f65dbb4'] | Jesse is sitting on the altar, his arms wrapped around Cassidy to keep him as close as possible as he kisses and nips at the tender skin of the vampire’s neck. Cassidy has never seen Jesse like this, all hands, lips and broken moans. He isn’t complaining, he’s just slightly unprepared and really, really aroused. Among the usual cigarettes and booze, they’ve shared a few joints throughout the night, and while Jesse had warned him that weed made him behave differently, if he had known this would be the outcome he would have made him smoke since day one. Peer pressure and all that be damned.
He lets Jesse lead, allowing the man to claim his neck as his own, shaky hands moving to pull his ratted denim jacket and shirt off his shoulder. He closes his eyes and tightens his grip on the preacher’s waist as the man licks a stripe up from a nipple to his collarbone, and all the way down again. It’s quick and needy, and nothing short of filthy, because he can smell the precome staining Jesse’s pants just as well as he can smell his sweet blood pumping in his veins. It’s only when one of the preacher’s hands finds its way to Cassidy’s crotch that his eyes snap open, slender, tattooed fingers wrapping around the man’s wrist. “Shite. Stop that, will ya?”
Of all things, Jesse _whines_ , like some poor dog who’s just been denied a treat. His cheeks are flushed and his hair sticking in all directions and if Cassidy smiles stupidly at the sight, well, nobody needs to know.
“No, no, luv. Let me,” he whispers, and in his drunken haze Jesse still finds it amusing how loud and obnoxious Cassidy always turns quiet when matters gets more heated. Jesse cocks his head, and waits.
The vampire’s head dips lower, his lips chasing Jesse, distracting the preacher with a whiskey and smoke flavoured kiss as his hands make a quick work of his clothes. He pulls the white collar away first, leaving it on the altar for later, an uncharacteristically respectful act, considering he’s about to desecrate a whole church and its pastor.
“Takin’ yer fucking time, ain’t ya?” Jesse’s accent as thick as summer rain. There’s a devious smirk on his face as he pushes his lover’s hands away, swiftly unbuttoning his shirt.
Cassidy laughs, taking one step back and pulling his white shirt over his head, carelessly tossing it behind him. The filthy garment hits the wooden cross and lands right over Christ’s bowed head. Jesse raises a brow as he sees the sacrilege, wondering briefly whether he should go and free the statue, but then decides against it. ‘Probably best if he doesn’t see’, he thinks.
The minute his chest his bared and the shirt lays forgotten on the floor, Cassidy’s mouth assaults him, kissing, biting and tasting every inch of skin. The vampire’s kneeling between the preacher’s legs as his hands slowly guide Jesse down so he’s lying on the altar, the icy marble against his back a contrast with the warmth of Cassidy’s breath on him. He knows what’s to come, he’s not oblivious to why the vampire’s kisses move lower and lower, his hands sliding with him until they reach the buckle of his belt.
The preacher’s closes his eyes and lets out a low moan as he saviours what’s to come: the vampire’s lips wrapped around him, the stretch of a tight, warm throat. One skilful tongue working him to his undoing, lust clouded eyes staring up at him. Just the thought is enough to push the preacher closer to his orgasm, Cassidy’s fingers barely brushing against him as the vampire undoes his belt, button and fly.
“Fuck me.” It’s chocked, coming out of god knows where and one notch too needy for the preacher’s ego to come out of this unaltered. Jesse Custer doesn’t give a damn.
“Well, shite.” Cassidy breathes from his position on the floor, standing back up. His actions are quick, rehearsed even as he gets them both ass naked in the shortest time. If Cassidy gets harder at the sight of the naked preacher sprawled out for him to take, Jesse doesn’t notice. Jesse Custer is hard, aroused, and ready to have Cassidy take him. He feels a little too much like a lamb about to be sacrificed on the proverbial altar. Despite the alcohol and the drug in his system, he’s far too aware of his surroundings, knowing that of all places he’s on the goddamn altar of his very own church, when his bed is just one flight of stairs away from them. Yet, he doesn’t move.
Cassidy’s hands on his thighs distract him from his thoughts and he watches as the vampire positions between his open legs. Almost comically, Cassidy looks between them with a confused expression, gesturing with one hand to his hard cock. “How am I-? Ya keep lube in here?”
Jesse growls, because he won’t let logistics get in the way of something he’s wanted for so long. There’s probably some consecrated oil somewhere, or maybe some Vaseline even, but the thought of Cassidy stumbling around the church with a hard on while he tries to find supplies is a turn off in itself. Jesse can’t wait, he won’t wait either, so he shakes his head. “Upstairs.”
The vampire’s brows shot up in disbelief, as he slowly strokes his erection to keep himself hard. “Too much work,” he grunts, looming over the preacher, holding himself up with one hand as he lets their erections rub together as his tongue finds a nipple to play with. |
2caf53f9d9774f1d8e08ba11d9a6040d | ['4866a73a8c8947e194719680701ecaf6'] | Denki had just finished toweling himself off, when he heard someone open the door leading to the shower room. He took a step forward, towards the stall door, when a voice spoke up.
"This idea is fucking stupid," the voice said.
"Come on, man, you liked it last time," Kirishima replied. Their feet moved over the wet tiles until they came to an abrupt halt, only a few meters away from Denki's shower stall. "Looks like we're alone."
Oh God, what were they about to do? Denki could only assume the worst. He had to do something. Clear his throat, kick open his stall, drop the soap-- maybe not drop the soap. But _something_ to announce that he was here and that he had totally no idea what they were doing or planning to do. If his dumb body would just move already so he could flee before the worst happened--
"Ugh, fine," Bakugou's voice interrupted his thoughts.
" _Yes_ ," Kirishima exclaimed excitedly. The creak of a hinge indicated that one of the stalls was pushed open. "This is why I love you, man."
"Just shut the fuck up already," Bakugou said. Denki could hear them move around. There was the sound of a zipper and a mumbled complaint about it being difficult to undress without getting their clothes wet on the floor. Eventually, they settled for dropping their stuff on the benches in front of the showers. If only Denki had done the same. Instead he had shoved his belongings into one of the lockers in the locker room. If they had seen his stuff lying around in the open, they might have moved to somewhere else. Maybe the roof again. Or the music room. Denki figured that they would be kinky enough to defile the grand piano taking up half of the room.
"You ready?" Kirishima asked.
Bakugou huffed. "When am I not ready, huh?"
"No, I mean, like.. _ready-ready_ ," Kirishima clarified.
"Oh. Yeah, obviously," Bakugou said. Denki didn't know what indicated it to him, but something about the way Bakugou spoke made him seem embarrassed.
They moved again, this time back into the shower stall they had chosen. Denki couldn't help but feel relieved. If they had moved just a few meters farther away from the door, they would have seen him right away. Of course that would have been preferable. Awkward, maybe, but still.. preferable. Now he was forced to stand there, in the shower stall, with only a flimsy little towel to cover himself up. He didn't know whether he shivered because he was starting to feel cold, or because the sounds of those two kissing noisily a few feet away from him echoed off the walls.
"Guess you really are ready for me, huh," Kirishima said under his breath. It sounded abnormally loud in the shower room.
"Ow- fuck, can't you trim your shitty nails?" Bakugou hissed back at him.
"Sorry, sorry," Kirishima apologized immediately. They were quiet, merely breathing heavily, until Bakugou let out a shaky exhale. "Good?" Kirishima asked.
"Yeah.. Yeah, 's good," Bakugou said. Denki was torn between wanting to know what they were doing and not wanting to know anything. They should just get it over with and leave already, seriously.
"Fuck," Bakugou cursed lowly, "Just.. fucking do it already."
Do _what_? Denki had to bite his lower lip to keep himself from asking out loud. He heard Kirishima chuckle under his breath. They moved around all of a sudden, and Denki almost feared they were going to exit the stall again. Without thinking, he took a step back, until his shoulder blades touched the cold tiles of the shower wall. It took all of his willpower not to voice his discomfort.
"Wait- shit, I almost forgot. Stay like that, man," Kirishima said. The door creaked when he pushed it open without warning. Denki reflexively crouched down in his own stall. He felt his heart hammer inside his ribcage as he watched Kirishima's shadow move across the tiles. But he didn't even come closer towards him. His clothes rustled as though he was looking for something. Denki thought he heard something crinkle, like foil--
"Hurry the fuck up, will you," Bakugou complained. Denki lowered his head, until he could peek over to him through the gap between the stall walls and the floor. Judging by the position of his feet, he was facing the wall, legs slightly apart..
The realization of what they were about to do hit Denki like a hammer to the face.
"You say that but you'd blow my dick off I didn't use a condom," Kirishima replied. His feet moved over the tiles and back inside the stall. His steps slowed down as soon as he was behind Bakugou. "Or maybe you'd actually like that, huh.."
"Shut up."
"I know I'd like it," Kirishima continued, unfazed. He took another step towards Bakugou, until he stood right behind him. He must have touched him, because Bakugou's toes curled lightly against the solid tiles beneath his feet. "I'd love to get you all messed up."
Was that really Kirishima? Denki could hardly believe it. His impression of Kirishima had changed over the past few months, but the dirty talk was new. He could have done without it, he figured.
Then again, he could have done without many things.
He could have done without listening in on them making out, getting frisky in the equipment room, sucking each other off in the nurse's office.. Even though he really, really, _really_ wanted to tear his eyes away, he just couldn't. He only saw their feet and maybe half of their calves, but it was enough to know what the were doing in that very moment. That, and the fact that they were pretty vocal when they finally got to the main part. | 9ee2d72a62e8497a818d21776fa1be75 | ['4866a73a8c8947e194719680701ecaf6'] |
a bad case
**Author's Note:**
> title is obviously from robert palmer's LINK. though in this case, mori has a bad case.. actually, he's always a sicko.
He had a nice physique.Tall and muscular, with broad shoulders and strong arms. His hands casually rested on his thighs and Mori could only wonder what it would feel like to have them on his body. He imagined that Fukuzawa wouldn't have any trouble holding him down. He could probably grab both his arms by the wrists and pin them above his head while his free hand was busy doing other things. Maybe he was even strong enough to lift him by the thighs and press him against the wall..
“Doctor?”
He blinked.
The fog of his imagination cleared when he remembered that he was sitting in the examination room, opposite to his patient. Fukuzawa stared at him, curiosity obvious in his gaze.Only now Mori noticed the black shadow that framed his left eye.
“Oh,” he exclaimed in surprise. “What happened to you? Did you get into a fight?” Leaning forward in his chair, his lips pulled into a wide grin as he waited for Fukuzawa's answer.
Fukuzawa had visited him quite often in the past already. Considering that Mori was a surgeon who wasn't tasked with caring for regular patients, it was ironic that Fukuzawa had somehow managed to always show up when Mori had been forced to fill in for one of the other doctors. By now they had gotten used to each other. Fukuzawa knew that Mori didn't really like tending to superficial injuries and the likes, and Mori knew that Fukuzawa had a troublesome job that forced him to visit the hospital more often than he would have liked to.
“Domestic violence,” Fukuzawa replied after a moment of thinking.
“Ah, did you swoop in to save the day?” Mori turned away from him to pull a pair of latex gloves from the dispenser. “At least it's not a knife this time.”
He still remember that day when Fukuzawa had shown up at the hospital with a knife lodged into his side. Without making a face or growing impatient, he had sat next to the other patients and waited until it had been his turn. By the time a nurse had lead him to the examination room, his face had taken on a ghastly pale shade and his entire body had been shaking. It had been a wonder that he hadn't fainted from blood loss. Maybe it was because he had been smart enough to pull out the knife.
Either way, Mori was pretty sure that this had been the moment when he had taken an interest in his patient.
“There won't be any knives anymore, I think,” Fukuzawa replied behind him. Surprised, Mori turned to look at him with arched eyebrows.
“How come?” His chair rolled across the floor and back towards Fukuzawa. Putting a hand on his chin, he made the older man tilt his head to the side so he could examine the injury. “Does it hurt?” he added another question.
“It doesn't feel pleasant,” was the only reply Fukuzawa spared him. Mori only replied with a quiet hum and a nod. He knew that his patient wasn't the talkative type. He didn't reveal any information about himself unless Mori prodded him enough, and he didn't seem to like small talk either. Mori had to admit that he found his personality quite relaxing. He wouldn't have minded if more patients had been like him.
“It's probably going to turn into all the colors of the rainbow when it heals,” Mori predicted. He gently ran his thumb over the skin right below Fukuzawa's eye. It caused the older man to hiss in pain, his head jerking back in the process. Mori nodded once more. He let go off his patient's face and lowered his hands. “When did it happen?”
If Fukuzawa noticed that Mori hadn't rolled back and away from him in his chair, he didn't show it. He stared right into Mori's eyes, his gaze piercing and unrelenting. Mori had to actively suppress a shiver when looking into his steely gray eyes.
“This morning,” Fukuzawa answered after a moment of quiet. “It didn't seem that bad at first but then it became.. _colorful_ and my assistant wanted me to get it checked.”
“That was smart of them,” Mori mumbled absentmindedly, too distracted by this new piece of information. Assistant? Since when did bodyguards have assistants? “Black eyes aren't much of a big deal but sometimes complications arise. You seem to be alright, though.”
Finally, Mori willed himself to push his chair back. He rolled over towards the desk and pulled off his gloves before he discarded of them in the trash can under the table. “If there are any changes, you should come and see me again.” _I'd look forward to it._ “I'll also refer you to a trustworthy eye doctor,” he promised.
“I'd appreciate that,” Fukuzawa replied with a small bow of his head. He rose from his chair and readjusted his mantle, the one he always wore over his yukata. Mori couldn't help but wonder, once again, what kind of bodyguard wore such impractical clothes on the job.
He lead Fukuzawa to the door, where he leaned against the frame and slid his hands into the pockets of his white coat. “Say, do I want to know how the other guy is doing?” he asked. A poor attempt of trying to keep his favorite patient around him just a bit longer.
Fukuzawa paused to look at him, but he was distracted by the noise of footsteps rapidly coming closer. They belonged to a small boy. Mori guessed that he was about five years old. He was about to speak up to tell him that running wasn't allowed in the hospital's hallways, when the boy threw himself against Fukuzawa's leg. |
177dda8752ae41de81fc40cd39a3885a | ['486f62afdd244f849056ff9c95d13e5d'] |
Jimin huffed as he entered Taehyung’s and Jungkook’s apartment complex, square glasses precariously balancing on his nose and beanie slipping to the side. Hands full with coffee cups, he glared at the door, before resignedly banging his head against the door. A shuffle of footsteps could be heard before the door flew open almost immediately.
“Bro, what the fuck, since when were you doing coffee delivery and where’s mine?” Taehyung complained upon seeing Jimin.
“Hello to you,” Jimin huffed. “And maybe if you spam text me saying it’s an emergency and to bring coffee ASAP and I could bring coffee for you too. But you can only exercise that extremely exclusive privilege like once a year because like hell am I doing this again. Where’s Jungkook-ah? He was very insistent I come immediately, but I don’t see that little brat anywhere.”
“I honestly thought he was still in bed. He stayed up playing video games until like two in the morning again.” Taehyung shrugged.
Jimin sighed, “Alright, move.”
Jimin side-stepped an amused Taehyung to head to Jungkook’s room, but realized quickly that yet another door was blocking his way.
“Can you please?” He turned to Taehyung, who barked a short laugh and knocked for him.
There was a loud crash that sounded suspiciously like someone falling out of bed. Jimin and Taehyung exchanged glances before Jimin called out, “You okay, Kookie?”
“Only if you’re holding an Americano in your hand,” Jungkook’s voice floated through the door.
Jimin sighed, “Come out and see.”
Jungkook opened the door, and his wild mop of hair and cheeks slightly marred by dried drool betrayed his previous sleeping state.
“Okay, where’s the fire, Jungkook-ah,” Jimin said out, handing Jungkook one coffee cup. “What on Earth could get you up this early in the morning short of G-Dragon releasing another music video and what part of it required twenty text messages to me?”
Jungkook perked up, wide smile stretching across his face, “Jimin-hyung, pack your bags! I got us two plane tickets to Las Vegas for the weekend!”
There was a pause. “What,” Jimin said flatly.
“Las Vegas! This weekend! You and me!” Jungkook started jumping around with impressive energy considering he was asleep not a minute ago.
“Jungkook, are you crazy? Did it occur to ask me before buying, what if I was busy–“
“SURPRISE!” Jungkook yelled, undeterred by Jimin’s lack of enthusiasm.
“Where the hell did you get that money, you were broke literally two minutes ago I had to buy your coffee–“
“Okay maybe my parents gave it to me as a graduation gift for you but let’s gooooo.” Jungkook pinwheeled his arms in excitement.
Jimin sighed and drained his coffee cup. When Jungkook got into one of his moods, he was unstoppable and Jimin could never say no.
Taehyung was following along in amusement. “TFTI, Kookie. Where’s my graduation gift?”
Jungkook side-eyed him, “…I lost it.”
“I see how it is,” Taehyung stuck out his tongue. “Well whatever, been there done that. I know it’s Las Vegas, guys, so I hope you two don’t take it as some ‘how much can my liver take’ challenge because knowing you guys you’ll need transplants by the end of your trip–“
“Fuck you, Taehyung, it will be awesome and you can just stew in your jealousy,” Jungkook proclaimed.
“Jungkook,” Taehyung said with an air of long-suffering patience. “Just because me and Minnie went on a fantastic tour of New York City without you doesn’t mean you have to try and one-up me we all know you’re his favorite.”
“Shhhhhhhut up,” Jungkook swung a punch at Taehyung, who jumped back cackling. “I’ll enjoy all the champagne without you, good-bye.”
“Just stay away from the hookers!” Taehyung sang, grinning mischievously, dancing away from Jungkook’s swipes.
Jimin had just been sighing the entire time. “It’s too early in the morning for this.”
\--
By the time Jimin and Jungkook were on the plane, Jimin had warmed up considerably to the trip.
“I’ve never been to Las Vegas.” He said, bouncing in his seat. “You think we’ll have enough time to go to the Eiffel Tower? Or the Bellagio? Treasure Island? I hear the M&M shop is pretty awesome too, but we can’t miss hitting up the casinos–“
“We’ll fit as much as we can,” Jungkook reassured Jimin. “But I will not miss my opportunity to get absolutely trashed in Vegas.”
“You alcoholic,” Jimin accused Jungkook, but his smile was agreeing. “Yeah it wouldn’t be Vegas without some boozing. You’re on.”
The plane landed at nighttime, and while Jimin and Jungkook were excited, they were tired and settled in their hotel without much complaint. The next day Jimin dragged Jungkook around to all the sights, insisting on a selfie every five minutes. Jungkook indulged him, a smile never leaving his face. As night fell, the lights of Las Vegas came to life and it was like a brand new world.
“This is amaaaazing!” Jimin sang, spinning around. “It’s so bright and beautiful!”
“Yeah,” Jungkook said, watching Jimin. “It sure is.”
\--
Jimin woke up to the heat of a body pressed at his side, a headache pounding at the sides of his head. He scrunched his eyes shut, refusing to acknowledge the pain his stomach was rolling around in. He could smell the minty, cool scent that he had always associated with Jungkook pressed to his side, with a faint, stale note of alcohol mixed in. Jimin groaned, nuzzling a little into the warm chest. He laid there for a bit before whipping himself back.
“Jungkook!” Jimin yelped, before clutching at his head in pain. Sudden movements were not advised.
Said boy was still sleeping, and only snuffled in disappointment that his arms no longer had a warm body to wrap around. | 8e553207712b4a0bae8f3c8ba32ddd0d | ['486f62afdd244f849056ff9c95d13e5d'] |
Jungkook has been in love with Jimin for as long as he remembers.
Meeting Jimin was like seeing the sun for the first; bright and beautiful, Jungkook was almost blinded. Charmed at the very first look, Jungkook fell – _hard_ – when Jimin sent a shy smile his way, hand outstretched with a crayon.
Never mind the fact that he was four, and Jimin was six then. Jungkook knew from the very first moment he wanted to see this boy’s smile every day for the rest of his life. He didn’t quite know what it meant, but he knew.
It’s the cliché ‘childhood friends’ trope all over again. They grow up together, lives intertwined neatly throughout the years. Jimin carefully wipes away Jungkook’s tears when he scrapes his knees learning to bike the first time; Jungkook hugs Jimin’s shaking body when they have to put down his dog. Secrets are exchanged under shared blankets, laughter flowing freely as they run forward to the future. Jungkook spends the entire time watching over Jimin, longing glances scattered often and secretly in between. He ignores his other friends’ jeers of his pining; spending every day beside Jimin’s side is worth it.
If someone asked Jungkook, _Well, when did you know?_ Jungkook would have no answer. When do you know love? There isn't always just one shining memory. It was in between the moments of getting lost in Jimin’s Busan lilt and his stomach swooping when Jimin knocks him over in laughter. He would make Jimin laugh over and over again just to bathe in the tinkling sound. He wishes he can take an audio recording of Jimin’s laugh for the bad days, but he’s not that much of a creep.
(Don’t ask about the tiny photo of Jimin he has by his nightstand. That’s private.)
Soon enough Jungkook is a sophomore in high school and Jimin is a senior. Jungkook hits an awkward growth spurt and shoots up past Jimin. He is all gangly legs and awkward shoulders, but even at his most slouched he towers over Jimin, much to Jimin’s dismay. Jungkook secretly likes imagining picking up Jimin and swinging him around, or cuddling him. Jungkook likes imagining a lot of things. Jungkook does not like imagining next year when Jimin will be gone, off to the wild lands of college. Jimin has already made Jungkook promise to call him every week, but the distance is already in front of Jungkook’s eyes.
\--
Jimin is chattering beside him again, sitting together during lunch like they have every day for ten years. A lot has changed, but nothing has. Jungkook sits quietly with a sketchbook, crayons traded out for pencils, but he’s still drawing his favorite subject; the boy sitting across from him, puffy cheeks bulging with food.
It’s one of those perfect fall days; leaves turning fiery reds and oranges, a mild chill setting in the corners. Jungkook watches as Jimin gestures his hands excitedly, overlarge dark sweater covering his palms. _Sweater paws._ Jungkook is made painfully aware, yet again, how adorable his best friend is. A leaf falls into his hair, orange blending into the tangerine hair.
“Hyung,” the word falls out of his mouth, interrupting Jimin’s wild ramblings.
Jimin looks up, surprised. It’s not often Jungkook bothers to say anything. “Yeah?” Jimin cocks his head to the side. “Something wrong?”
Jungkook feels stupefied himself, the full effect of Jimin radiating in front of him. _You’re beautiful_. His stomach clenches. Ha, it says, as if you could say that aloud.
_There’s a leaf in your hair_ , his mind prompts him to say.
His mouth rebels. “Go out with me,” the words eagerly tumble out, tripping over each other.
Jimin’s mouth drops open. Jungkook’s entire world shifts to the left a couple inches and his body freezes in panic, except for his heart which pounds furiously at his head. _What was that?!_
His mind catches up and smacks himself mentally. “I didn’t me-“
“Okay,” Jimin interrupts. The world tilts just a bit further.
Jungkook snaps his mouth shut, fearing his ears were also betraying him. “What?” He croaks, unable to string thoughts properly together.
Jimin looks down and blushes. “I said okay.” Jimin says softly. “Where do you want to go?”
And suddenly Jungkook can breathe again, his heart light and fragile. The urge to run away lingers, but the weight of cautious happiness sits on his shoulders and keeps him place.
“I don’t know.” Jungkook says truthfully. It’s not like he planned this. “Let’s just go.”
_(Internal face palm. Let’s just go? He’s trying too hard to be cool–)_
“Alright.” Jimin still doesn’t look at him, fingers twining together. Jungkook knows that means he’s nervous, as if the refusal to look at Jungkook doesn’t give it away.
“Are you sure you want to?” Insecurity strikes, too easily in the delicate age of adolescence.
Jimin looks up sharply, eyes large and urgent. “Of course!” But he’s hesitating. “When you say out…”
“When I say out…” Jungkook repeats as Jimin trails off. His heart is picking up the pace again.
“Do you mean on a date?” Jimin shifts his eyes downward again.
Now it is Jungkook’s turn to look away and blush. “Only if you want it to be,” Jungkook mutters, unable to leap any further then he’s already awkwardly has. What is he even doing anymore? How did he get here again?
There’s a pause. Jungkook idly wonders if Jimin can hear his heartbeat in the spaces. He certainly feels like his chest feels like it’s going to burst.
“Okay,” Jimin says, blush still light on his cheeks. A smile is secretly crinkling at the corners of his eyes.
“Okay,” Jungkook repeats back. He tries to beat back his own smile. He still needs to look cool after all.
They don’t say anything more for the rest of the lunch period, but Jimin hums a tune that neither of them know but both of them recognize.
\--
Three days later, Jungkook meets Jimin at a park and Jimin greets Jungkook with a smile like the sun, warm and shining, and shyly takes Jungkook’s hand in his own.
Jungkook walks on clouds for the rest of the day.
**Author's Note:**
> Title from Favorite Record by Fall Out Boy.
> Still unbearably new at writing, and I wish I had more but I'm honestly terrible at fleshing things out. Oh well.
> Unedited, it's probably pretty rough haha. |
cfd75c20daf84264bdaf3d3d1015d239 | ['487f3fe154104eb0b309dd77e0288d8f'] | "Anyone with common sense would be weirded out by you, period." Renjun can admit to himself that objectively, Donghyuck is pleasant to look at as well. But despite Donghyuck’s smile being otherworldly, his charm radiating in waves that no one can resist being exposed to, Renjun’s lived with him long enough to be disillusioned.
Sure, there’s someone out there who will soon be suckered into dating Donghyuck, but it’s definitely not going to an up-and-coming film producer who has too much on his plate to babysit an undergrad who just thinks he’s hot.
"God Renjun, you sure know how to butter a girl up."
Renjun rolls his eyes before they settle back on the TV screen. Ten has just told Kun about how he got injured. He was on a date with a girl he’d been talking to on an app. It had been going great, up until the time she led him into an alley near his dormitory and attacked him. The fight for his life had taken so much out of him, but the part of his shin she bit off had taken so much more.
There’s a pregnant silence as the words sink in, and Kun inspects Ten’s leg, which is indeed missing a good chunk of skin. Kun hurries for a first aid kit to patch the wound.
Renjun feels Donghyuck shift closer to him, and his grip on the remote tightens when Donghyuck tries to sneak it out of his hands.
“What are you doing?”
Donghyuck doesn’t answer, sliding a hand under one of Renjun’s to pry the remote further from him. Renjun draws it into his side, and pinches Donghyuck’s arm in warning.
"I’m gonna change it to something interesting," Donghyuck finally says as he attempts once more to gain control of the remote. He doesn’t sly his way around this time, reaching over to directly steal it from Renjun.
Renjun catches it midway, and the remote hangs suspended over the popcorn bowl as they fight for it. One of Renjun’s fingers dig at a button, and the movie pauses. “Donghyuck, stop.”
Donghyuck’s nails find purchase on a few buttons as well, and the movie rewinds a few minutes back before it’s paused again. “I’m just gonna check what else we could watch.”
Renjun presses his whole palm flat on the remote and tugs it back his way. The movie resumes, fast-forwarding through parts they hadn’t yet gotten to. “We’re watching this.”
Donghyuck imitates his actions, and the movie glitches before completely shutting off. "Oh," he breathes, eyes wide as he looks at the TV.
There’s no fight as Renjun finally confiscates the remote from Donghyuck’s possession. He presses the power button, trying to remember where they were in the movie before Donghyuck started tug-of-war with him. The TV screen springs to life for a second, before it shuts off with finality — along with every other electrical appliance in their dorm.
“Oh fuck.”
“This. This isn’t my fault.” Renjun can hardly make out Donghyuck’s face in the dark, but he already knows that the corners of Donghyuck’s mouth are pulled into the small frown he makes when he’s feeling guilty for pushing Renjun around too much.
"Yeah," Renjun agrees. “Can you turn on your phone’s flashlight? I left mine in the room.”
Donghyuck elbows the popcorn bowl onto the floor in the process, but a stream of light is emitting from his phone moments later.
"Good. I need to see you in case I have to choke the shit out of you."
The hand not occupied with the phone cautions itself around Donghyuck’s neck.
“Violence is never the answer,” he says, adding puppy dog eyes to his pout in a fish for forgiveness. Renjun doesn’t take the bait.
"Unless it is."
Donghyuck seizes up slightly when Renjun approaches him, but all he does is take the phone away from Donghyuck, amusement lilting his smile. He hears Donghyuck curse behind his back as he checks outside their dorm. There are a few people roaming around the air of confusion, and Renjun has a silent exchange with the first person he makes eye contact with. He nods at them, closing their door and turning to face an expectant Donghyuck.
"Looks like there's a power outage. It’s probably dorm-wide."
"Oh okay, so what do we do now?"
Renjun points the phone in the direction of their shared room. "I'm going to sleep, no point in staying up if everything's off."
He makes to lead the way, but Donghyuck lifts the phone out of his hands and steps in front of him.
“I’m protecting you from any wayward tables,” Donghyuck reasons when he catches Renjun’s questioning stare, “Can’t have you stubbing your toes.”
Renjun can feel his ears heating up, and he’s thankful that it’s too dark for Donghyuck to notice. Renjun would never hear the end of it if Donghyuck knew that his awful teasing could strike up such an embarrassing reaction. Renjun doesn’t even know why his ears are betraying him like this, if anything, Donghyuck should be the abashed one for letting something so shameless come out of his mouth. "You do that."
“Anything for you Renjun,” Donghyuck adds on as they fall onto their respective beds. The heat spreads to Renjun’s cheeks, and he stuffs his face into his pillow to drown out rhythm of Donghyuck’s laughter to his own heartbeat.
When Renjun wakes up in the morning, his hand fumbles on their room light switch instinctively. He freezes for a second when he remembers the power outage, but tries to flick the light on anyway. The bulb fastened above their beds brightens up, and Renjun lets out a relieved sigh.
Donghyuck rises from his side of the room, all sleep marked and dazed. He squints at Renjun through unfocused eyes.
"What are you sighing for?"
"The power's back on." | 971c73b6b9414e20b69cd4ebbf2019d2 | ['487f3fe154104eb0b309dd77e0288d8f'] | It takes Donghyuck a second, but when the words finally set, he manages whatever semblance of a smile that his dry lips can pull. "Oh, cool."
"Yeah," Renjun quirks a smile of his own before heading into their bathroom to brush his teeth. When he comes out Donghyuck is squatting near their mini fridge, frowning at the lack of food.
"There's nothing to eat," Renjun supplies, and the glare Donghyuck pinpoints him with tells Renjun that Donghyuck had already figured that out.
Donghyuck scoffs. “No shit.” He looks into the fridge once more before slamming it shut. “I don’t feel like renewing my meal bundle at the cafe, how many meals do you have left?”
“None for you,” Renjun says, shaking Donghyuck off his arm when he latches on it to whine.
“Please, I’ll pay you back.” Donghyuck is unrelenting, sticking himself back onto Renjun to beg at full force. Renjun’s stomach lurches at the way Donghyuck’s moue makes his eyes protrude.
“Take laundry duty for the next month,” Renjun bargains. Donghyuck drops the act immediately, his face pulling into a defined scowl.
“For one meal? Unfair.”
Renjun breathes at the familiarity. He doesn’t know what is up with him, but it seems like snarky Donghyuck is the only side of him that doesn’t make Renjun feel strange. “Then bum off of someone else.”
“No way, I’m your problem only Renjun,” Donghyuck says without diffidence, and Renjun is acutely aware that Donghyuck is still fixed to his side.
“Whatever,” Renjun forces out as he wriggles free from Donghyuck’s hold, “So, what are you gonna do about food?”
“I’m supposed to visit Taeyong-hyung anyways, I’ll just get him to make me something,” Donghyuck says, utterly un-bothered.
It miffs Renjun that it’s only him who feels odd around the other. Donghyuck can flirt and cling as much as he wants to without blinking, but the thought of even doing half of what Donghyuck does makes Renjun’s palms sweat. He’s not that bold; he doesn’t want to be that bold.
“He’s your brother, not your personal chef.”
The side of Donghyuck’s cheek dents in a small smirk. "Are you saying you don’t want to come with?"
"I’m definitely coming." Renjun would never miss an opportunity to go to Taeyong’s place. Taeyong always has food, a fact Renjun learned during move-in week. Taeyong had come over with an array of housewarming treats, and it was the first and last time their mini fridge had ever been so full. Renjun would have asked to live with Taeyong instead of Donghyuck if it weren’t for graduate students having different dormitories.
Donghyuck gazes at him for a moment, smile faltering at the corners,"Your crush on my brother is weird."
Renjun can’t help the cackle that stutters out of him. “Crush?”
“Am I wrong?” Donghyuck asks, and Renjun shakes his head in affirmation because yes, he’s wrong — so wrong. Donghyuck couldn’t be any _more_ wrong.
Donghyuck’s smile evens out again. “Huh,” he says, his hand on their bathroom door. “Never mind then.”
“Surprised you didn’t say something like — ” Renjun gives himself a second to come up with his best Donghyuck impression, “‘Guess it makes sense, why would you be attracted to the older version when you live with the new and improved model?’”
Donghyuck is thoroughly entertained. “You think I’m the new and improved model?”
Renjun’s eyes flicker to Donghyuck’s before looking away just as quickly, and his heart thumps out of step. “No,” he says slowly, “I think the sooner they announce your factory recall, the better.”
“Ouch,” Donghyuck snickers as he slips into the bathroom, “Tsundere Renjun strikes again!”
Renjun’s glower meets a closed door and he slouches on the couch. They haven’t cleaned the floor from last night, and the remote is stuck in the crevice of the cushions. Renjun picks it up to test the TV as he hears the shower shut off. No matter how many times Renjun presses the power button, the TV doesn’t react.
“I think the TV is broken,” Renjun says when Donghyuck emerges from the steamed bathroom.
All parts of Donghyuck’s skin that aren’t covered in clothing glisten with moisture, and Renjun doesn’t know why he notices, but he does as Donghyuck towels his hair in the middle of the hallway.
"It was pretty cheap anyways, it wasn't meant to last long," Donghyuck says, throwing the towel into their clothes hamper when he’s done.
"True." Renjun says. He thumbs the power button for another try, watching the TV for a sign of life; there is none. "You still broke it though."
"Don't deny the team effort."
Renjun is just as quick as Donghyuck in the bathroom, and they find themselves on track for Taeyong’s dorm soon after. Taeyong lives a long stretch from their side of campus, but Renjun doesn’t really mind the distance. The walk gives Renjun a peace that he doesn’t get to experience when rushing to classes.
“Hey, does anything feel different to you?” Donghyuck asks when they step out. Renjun looks around. The street is never particularly lively since they choose a route that shortcuts away from major buildings, and all Renjun can see at the moment are cars so familiar to him that he could probably recite their license plates if asked.
“No, why?”
“I don’t know, just getting a feeling something’s different. Like… the air or something.” Donghyuck’s eyes narrow as he takes his own glance at their surroundings.
They pass a telephone pole with a scatter of eccentric poster ads exclaiming about a zombie apocalypse. Donghyuck doesn’t give Renjun the time to read them, but Renjun files it in his memory as a potential movie he would need to check out later.
“Are… you okay?” |
f375ceb758cc427d97c2e81f5392c2b1 | ['4880b3b9d5e64e8e8bb44bd34d512b02'] | Holding On (To Break)
**Author's Note:**
> Why do I like to be vague when I write. I’m such an asshole. A million percent done with myself. I still love this. Still listening to Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran. Just a lil mad bro. Here, have some of my baddie second person. It’s officially unstated Burnvin. I hate it’s forever short. You’re welcome stupid brain. Enjoy.
Your arms are wrapped around him and holding tight, the sounds he’s making are wrenching your heart. It hurts so much, his pain, his sorrow. It hurts even more because you want to scream or hurt whatever hurt him, but you can’t - you have to be strong for him. You’ve gone through before, but this time is different - it’s him- and things can’t always just be okay, something eventually gives. This time he gave and it just shatters you into pieces. If it was up to you, you would hold him close to you forever, shield him from any jagged edges, harshness or darkness. You don’t feel like it’s your place, so when they come to collect him, you will try to hold onto him as much as possible. The yielding strength in your arms and the soft comforting thread of your fingers through his hair, trying to soothe his anguish. For now, you just let yourself feel him break and try not to break with him.
**Author's Note:**
> This was quick and somewhat easy to spit out but I still wanna punch myself. I'm a little full of vinegar today. Just a tad. Hoped you enjoyed. Also on my tumblr, lirokuneta. | c96d7f918f7c4d699b2d3ac097ac9f3c | ['4880b3b9d5e64e8e8bb44bd34d512b02'] |
Hard to Trust, Easy to Love
**Author's Note:**
> My first fic. Kept as in character as circumstances could provide. Feel free to review, please.
Dean was speechless. He couldn’t believe this.
He turned slowly away from Sam’s pleading eyes, shocked. Sam didn’t… mean to? Didn‘t feel it? Let him get turned into a vampire and knew a cure didn‘t tell him? Dean put the knife on the glass shelf gently. He knew about taking risks, getting a job done and helping people at all costs. But Sam was family. He put Dean’s life in jeopardy, all for a slim chance they might find out what was going on.
Dean clenched his fists. It’s not okay to play with his life like that. To let him think he was going to be a monster. To betray his brother, his own blood! And for what? Because he couldn’t feel fear? He almost hurt Ben and Lisa. People he cared about.
Dean ground his teeth together, whirling around. He looked at Sam’s face and just cracked. Lashing out, he caught Sam in the jaw, sending him to the ground. He glared down at Sam for a moment then grabbed him by his shirt and hit him again and again. He kept hitting him until Dean felt his frustration bleed out and stopped. He watched the limp form beneath him and felt his face crumple.
His baby brother Sam pliant beneath him, blood on his face. Dean fisted both hands in Sam’s shirt and dropped his forehead on Sam’s chest gently, eyes watering. What was happening to them? All this crap, whatever was going on, messing with their heads. His baby brother taking huge risks and jumping in and out of danger like it was a game. A sob tore from his throat, hands tightening in Sam’s shirt.
“Dean.” Sam rasped beneath him. “Dean… I don’t- You know…” Dean lifted his face, cheeks wet. Sam gazed at him with sad, tired eyes. “I don’t… I don’t know what’s happening to me. Everything feels so disconnected all the time and I don’t know what to do.” Sam let his head fall back, ran a hand through his hair. “You know- you know I care. These past few weeks, hell this past year it’s all just…” Sam put an arm over his eyes. “I don’t know what to do,” Sam’s voice cracked.
“Sam,” Dean whispered, pulling Sam’s arm away. “Whatever’s going on… I don’t want you to think you can’t trust me-”
“ I do trust you Dean-”
“Sammy.” Sam’s nostrils flared, eyes shining wet. Dean was struck by how infrequently he‘d called him that lately. “Sammy. You’ve been so over the top since I came back. I know we don’t talk and you don’t trust me with all your secrets… But it’s been over a year and we’re back together against what I thought, heaven and hell…” Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, straightening up. “I don’t want you to think you can’t trust me enough to talk to me about anything.”
Sam sat up, holding Dean’s sleeve. “I know it’s been messed up lately and I’m trying. It’s just been so long and I barely know what I’m doing half the time…” He grabbed the back of Dean’s neck, bringing their foreheads together. “It’s just been so crazy and everything’s been so scrambled. I didn’t want you to worry about my crap on top of everything else.”
Dean sighed tightly. He knew what Sam was talking about. When he got back from hell it was so hard to keep it together. He had to struggle for so long not to let it drag him down, even after he told Sam what happened. Whatever was going on with Sam, it wasn’t going to be easy.
He grabbed the collar of Sam’s jacket. “Hey.” Green eyes met exhausted hazel. “Alright. We’ll figure something out.” He let a small smile take root. “I worry about you, that’s what big brothers are for. Just let me know what’s going on in there sometimes.”
Sam choked out a laugh, a sunshine warm smile breaking out on his face. “Okay.”
Dean cracked a quick grin, then frowned a little. He ran a thumb over the swollen cheek gently, Sam’s breath hissing out sharply. “M’sorry,” he mumbled, pressing his lips gently to the swollen skin.
Sam’s breath caught in his throat. “S’okay. I know.”
“That’s gonna be ugly in the morning.” He could already envision how it was going to purple. His eyes flickered up to Sam’s. He could feel the weight of his gaze. Dean cupped Sam’s other cheek, gaze zeroing in on Sam’s lips. “Sammy,” He said thickly.
“Yeah.”
Dean touched his lips to Sam’s , warmth spreading from the simple touch. Sam pushed into the kiss, whimpering, hands clutching Dean’s jacket. Dean slipped a hand into thick wavy hair, ran his tongue along Sam’s lips and delved in hotly when they parted. He groaned loudly, tongue sliding slick against tongue and the taste of pure Sam he couldn’t imagine losing again. Sharp memories of long days and heated nights flashed through and he clung all that much harder to Sam. He wouldn’t let them lose that again if he could help it.
Dean pulled back with a satisfyingly wet pop, blinking dazedly. He let his eyes slip closed once more, sliding both hands into Sam’s hair, nosing Sam’s neck. Sam held onto Dean’s jacket for a long moment, then pushed at his sides to get up. Dean moved back, scrunching his eyebrows questioningly.
Sam chuckled wryly. “As awesome as this is Dean, I don’t really feel comfortable doing this, you know.” He gestured to the room behind Dean.
Dean blinked, then took a quick reminder glance. Ew. “Yeah, body parts and dead crazy cat lady. Awesome.” He got to his feet, extending a hand to Sam. Sam stood as well and held for a moment, looking Dean in the eye seriously. Dean smirked and patted him on the chest. “Always knew you were a big girl, Sammy.” He slipped into a small smile, tightening his grip for a moment, then letting go, heading for the stairway out.
Sam shook his head at his brothers antics. “Hey Dean,” he called after him hopefully. Dean rose an eyebrow back at his brother. “Jerk.”
Dean laughed dark and rich and beautiful. “Bitch. Now let’s go, last one to the car gets next laundry duty.”
Sam smiled megawatt dimples. Yeah, they were gonna be okay. |
2c696c6f54c64d818aecf018d6ad3615 | ['48854d1d1dcd42a283e032397bc5cfd7'] | “Bullshit you didn’t mean to! You mean to do all of it, every fucking thing you do to me!”
“I’ll edit it, I’ll stay late.” He puts up his hands. His eyes are wide. “You just-“
“Don’t fucking talk to me. Don’t even look at me right now, just go.”
“Michael,”
“Go! Get the fuck out of this room, and stay out. And I mean forever. No more flirting, no more playing around. I’ve been putting up with your bullshit for months now, and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you.”
Soda drips to the floor and Gavin is staring ahead like he’s been struck. His hands, once up to try and reason with Michael fall to his sides and his eyes survey the boy in front of him.
“Was that what it was?” He asks, his voice wavering. “Bullshit? Just bullshit?”
“If you haven’t noticed,” Michael growls as he grabs his sweatshirt and heads to the door, “I have a girlfriend, Gavin. That should tell you exactly what this all has been. A goddamn waste of time.”
He shuts the door behind him with a slam so satisfactory he feels it in his bones. The walls rattle and a poster goes askew in his war path, and Michael’s almost fifteen feet out of the building when the regret hits him.
_He just told Gavin he’s sick of him. That everything they’ve been doing has been meaningless. That Gavin is a waste of time._
With a groan loud enough to be heard across town, Michael turns about-face and heads back for the office. His head feels heavy and he’s already practicing his apology, and he doesn’t even notice the ground is uneven until he’s falling.
He hits the pavement with a heavy thud, the side of his head landing roughly on the cement. His vision swims and a curse works its way out of his mouth, and before he can try and get his bearings the world swims in black.
x x x
Michael wakes up to the sound of the iron gates surrounding the parking lot scraping against the pavement.
He blinks open his eyes to try and see who has left the building now, and moreover who has so thoughtfully walked past the guy passed out in the middle of the lot. He’s already preparing the thank you speech he’ll dish out to Monty or Kerry or whoever when he realizes Gavin’s the one dragging open the gate.
_Thanks a lot, asshole_ , Michael seethes internally. He opens his mouth to dish out a similar remark out loud, and that’s when he notices that something is very, very wrong.
He doesn’t know what he feels first, the paws where his hands should be, the wind sweeping over small triangular ears atop his head, the fur that coats his body or the succinct and telling tail that grows just above his ass.
No, nothing is very right and everything is very feline.
Shaking, heart pounding, Michael gets to his feet, frowning at the balance he places on four paws and at the fact that his head is hardly one foot off the ground. His mind races, trying to accept what’s happened to him or how or why, but there’s no answer that could live up to his questions. For a good thirty seconds he stands frozen in the middle of the pavement, and were he more aware of his feline body he’d realize how puffed up and frightened he looks.
That’s when Gavin sees him.
The human, heading back towards the building after opening the gate, lazily swings his head left and Michael goes stiff. Green eyes sweep over his frame and Michael backs up instinctively, but Gavin puts up a hand and Michael doesn’t have time to feel patronized before Gavin’s talking. His voice is heavy with melancholy; Michael’s ears twitch with distain all their own.
“Hey there, how’d you get out here?” He asks, all gentle and timid. If cats could frown, Michael would be.
“If I told you, you would not believe me.” The cat replies, but all that comes out of his mouth is a pitiful meow. Not even a boisterous one, as angry and confused as he is. Just a wavering mew that makes Gavin smile. Michael narrows his eyes.
“Yeah?” Gavin says, taking a step forward. Michael freezes in place. Does he run? Does he stay? He can easily say this isn’t a situation he’s faced before and no option is really sticking out as a winner to him. Gavin takes another step.
“Well you’re a scrawny little thing, aren’t you?” He says. Michael presses himself harder against the ground, wanting to run but not wanting to leave. Being near Gavin isn’t something he wants right now but at the same time he’s a fucking cat, where the hell else does he have to go?
“Shut the fuck up, Gavin.” He growls. It’s an even weaker meow than before. Gavin’s two steps away from him.
“Hey, hey, ‘S alright.” Gavin says, crouching down. Michael’s used to him being taller but this is a stretch, and when Gain puts a hand out, presumably for Michael to sniff like he’s some kind of animal, his gentleness is the last thing Michael wants.
Considering his options, Michael’s almost set his mind on using his new sharp claws to push Gavin away from him (a rather rhetorical process honestly,) when a loud truck rattles down the road outside the gates and everything in Michael’s tiny frame seizes. | 22734d95f0044acbb972044a5392caf3 | ['48854d1d1dcd42a283e032397bc5cfd7'] | “But you’re… a happy thing for me, you know that? The way you fight, no matter what. How you make things better even when you pretend they’re worse. You’re funny and smart and I like being around you… and I really think of you as one of my good things left on this planet.” He pauses, and Seamus considers for the first time what it must be like, being Eddie and having a hard time getting words out. It’s borderline tragic.
“And if you want, I can be one of your happy things too.”
Seamus smiles. His hands find their way up to where Eddie’s circled his waist with his arms. Eddie’s fingers detangle and re-tangle around his own. The words find their way out easier than he thought they would.
“I think you’ve been one of my happy things for a really long time.”
That does it for Eddie, and for Seamus himself a little bit. The other boy can’t keep whatever happiness he’d trapped in his body inside any longer, and he squirms and hums into the side of Seamus’ neck, giggling “Seamus!” in tight little patches, and Seamus lets him. He calms down eventually, but not before giggling happily again as Seamus gives his hands another squeeze, his own version of whatever Eddie had just done.
And then there’s silence again, but this one isn’t weighted. It’s clear, like an open sky. Like every obstruction has been cleared away and there’s no need for further comment. It’s Seamus’ favorite silence of all and he basks in it.
For all of the three seconds Eddie allows him, anyway.
“I wanted to kiss you so bad yesterday.” He says, voice light and warm.
Seamus ponders this. Pretends like it doesn’t strike a bolt of adrenaline right through the middle of him. He thinks, and says,
“I wanted to rip that undead’s brain straight out of its skull today.” A pause. Is there a line to cross confession-wise tonight? He decides to find out. “I’m never letting anything try take you away from me again.”
There’s a snort in his ear then. “Okay, James.”
“Oh, shut the hell up.”
Eddie keens at this, squeezing him tightly into another hug. Which is another thing Seamus has never been too fond of, but isn’t all that bad when Eddie’s behind it.
(He can’t believe there was ever a time he thought he could just will himself not to love this boy. Like he hadn’t already fallen fifty times over, like there was ever a chance of him going back.)
“We wasted so much time, Seamus, I think. Not saying anything.”
“So much wasted time.”
Eddie turns to sink his nose into Seamus’ neck, and the motion makes his pulse jump. These touches aren’t idle, aren’t there just because someone needs to be held by something. Finally, finally there’s meaning in being held by him. The validation burns hot and Seamus is breathing it instead of air.
He turns, nudging the other boy to look up at him because he’s never more enjoyed being held in his life, but there’s been need and regret burning under him for at least a day, but for so much longer really, and when Eddie’s eyes meet his, fire surges under his skin.
He kisses Eddie needily. He kisses him with fervor, with want. He kisses him to make up for yesterday in the rain and the emptiness that had filled him. He kisses him for today, when all he’d wanted was to be as close to him as humanly possible. He kisses him for the day last fall when he’d looked at Eddie and felt a strange twinge in his chest, a feeling he didn’t know how to name, and gradually refused to over time.
The heat, the closeness of skin and the way he can feel the boy’s eyelash twitch on his cheek a second later, makes up for everything.
And Eddie kisses him back, too. Turns to mold towards him so he can run warm hands over his cheek and through his hair, so he can angle them together like puzzle pieces. He kisses just about as Seamus expected him to, with fervor, with passion, greedily and not without grinning into his mouth a few seconds in.
If it’s not perfect, and Seamus is sure it probably isn’t, neither boy notices.
“I bet your sheets smelled really good.” Eddie whispers into his cheek as he pulls away for breath. Seamus scoffs.
“You’d improve them exponentially.” He pauses. “After a shower at least.”
Eddie laughs, breathy little gasps against the shell of his ear. “I have been waiting so long for you to make jabs at how much you like me.” He rocks them together, ever in motion, and Seamus lets himself get swayed back and forth. It’s nice.
“Not as long as I’ve wanted to make them, I bet.” He says.
They stay like that for quite some time, eventually easing their bodies to the floor and finding warmth in intertwined fingers and legs tangled together. For some time they only just trade words and kisses, little breaths of laughter spared in between. It’s only by the misfortune of it being the end of the world and the moon reaching its zenith that separates them from each other.
Seamus rubs idly at his eyes as he realizes he could be perfectly content with falling asleep on Eddie’s shoulder and letting the undead outside do as they please. Maybe. Maybe if he hadn’t let his guard down once today and had it almost be the worst decision he’d ever made, he might even give in.
Instead he lets Eddie fall into a warm sleep beside him while Seamus replays the events that just took place over and over again in his head until he’s sure they’ll stick forever. |
ac30ab585c3b4be6a24ffe6fe1e6e599 | ['48860ac20a594a40b383c948480200bf'] | “Yes but the buck was so much bigger.” Jackson replies to Blake shaking his head in disappointment. The west side of the city was quiet and beginning to be overrun with wild life. There were white tail deer grazing and rooting on what green they could find. Jackson had already managed to take down a decent sized doe when he spotted the big buck. Though Jackson was practiced in the art of hunting Blake and I were not. I had helped chase the deer with Grandpa Earl but to no success. Blake and I were just too loud. Our footfalls had startled the buck and Jackson never had the opportunity to take a shot. We had left our bike about two blocks back with the deer, a jar of processed cheese spread, twenty four rolls of toilet paper, some beef jerky and a case of motor oil to try and bag the buck.
The sound of Damian’s bike grows steadily louder until it is in sight. He comes to stop as a smiling Forbes jumps off the seat from behind our team leader. “Check it out, twelve cases of canned tuna. Nice haul. How did you guys do?” She gushed.
“We got us a deer thanks to our very own mini version of Arsenal.” Blake bragged. Jackson caught my gaze and we both smiled sadly missing Roy acutely in that moment. Jackson was bombarded with thanks and pats on the back from Forbes and Johnson. He even received a ‘good job’ from our esteemed leader. Our congratulatory occasion was interrupted by gun shots. Just far enough away to not make us duck for cover. Actually about two blocks away.
“Shit!” I curse knowing that the shots came from exactly where we left the bike and our loot.
Damian presses his index finger to his lips silencing us and waves for the team to follow him. I am careful to watch my footsteps and keep them quiet as I move as fluidly as I can which is in no way even close to the stealth like movements of Robin. We approach the street where we left our bike from an alley and use the shadows to stay concealed. There are eight men I count, one throwing the bullet riddled corpse of another dead doe into our trailer and the others ambling about fearlessly. They are taking our find and Jackson’s kill. I can feel the blood rush through me and a heat in my chest begins to burn as my anger rises. We need that. We have people back at the cave who need these things.
Damian moves closer and pulls our group in tighter so that he can speak in barely a whisper. “These are The King’s men. Go back the way we came and take the bike back to the cave. You do not have to stay. Go.”
“What are you going to do?” I ask in a hush.
“Get our belongings back.” Damian moves closer to the street pressing himself against the dirty bricks of the building flanking the alley as our team turns and begins making their way back away from The King’s men. I stand there in the shadows stunned that they are leaving. They are leaving him to do this alone. I glance at my brother and an unspoken communication dances between us. Never an option.
Kids?” Johnson hisses at us.
“We are staying.” My brother answers him turning to follow Damian. I slide myself in between the two and press tightly against the wall as I watch the others move away only glancing back quickly before they vanish around the corner. The bricks smell of garbage and are sickeningly warm from the heat of the day.
Damian measures us with his eyes before giving us orders. “Very well. Jackson up top.” He points to a fire escape on the opposite side of the alley. Jackson slings his bow over his back and quietly climbs the metal until he has the perfect vantage point. “Honda, follow my lead and focus.” He tells me. His gaze lingers on mine for a long moment before he walks out of the shadows and on to the street drawing the attention of every gun there. I stand firm at his side.
“Hehehe look at this folks its one of those pesky little birds and he brought a friend to see what we have in our trailer.” One of the gun men laughs out with his head tilting creepily to the side as he sweeps his hand over the deer.
“I believe you are mistaken. The bike, trailer, and its contents belong to me and my colleague.” Damian answers in a deadpan.
The man then smiles showing black decaying teeth as he raises his gun. “I don’t think so kid.” | 2915e86a4bc94d6ebb56772281d1cd56 | ['48860ac20a594a40b383c948480200bf'] | I sit crossed legged on the floor staring at the door. I have moved from the window and took up post here. When my Dad walked out that door thirty-six hours ago I knew. Déjà vu, again and I knew. Jackson sat down beside me awhile ago and we both cried quietly. Neither of us said a word. He sobbed into the sleeve of the hoodie my sister had given me I let my tears fall into my lap. Dad had taken the sword off the wall but it would be of no use. I could not imagine such a gentle man pulling it out. The Daisho was my Grandfather’s. He brought it back from Japan on his one and only trip there and was very proud of it. When he died it became my father’s and was displayed on our living room wall. All that remains now is the Wakizashi. I let time slip by until I am pulled back to reality by my brother’s rumbling stomach.
I give him the last four crackers and half a glass of water. I take only the water. There is no more food. And only six bottles of water left. I make my decision but keep it to myself. Jackson and I cuddle up together on the sofa and doze. Shouts, gunfire, and breaking glass from the streets below wake us sporadically but we try to sleep.
When Jackson awakes I am already up and have searched and found everything we will take with us. I emptied our school back packs and put one change of clothes in for each of us. We also each have two bottles of water. We will drink the others before heading out. In my pack there are matches I found in the bathroom. My Mom liked candle lit baths. I also packed the candle. I have changed into a sturdy pair of jeans and I still wear the hoodie. My hiking boots bought last year for vacation are too small so I have rummaged and now wear my Mom’s. I laid out attire for Jackson and am relieved that his boots still fit.
“Where are we gonna go Spence?” His voice doesn’t quiver and he stands straight.
“Aunt Denise in Jersey. We can manage to walk there.” I answer sounding confident.
“What if she’s…”
“We will deal with that when and if we have to Jackson.”
He nods and changes into the clothes I put out for him. We sit and drink our bottles of water keeping the empty plastic just in case in our packs. I go to the drawer in the kitchen and pull out Mom’s fishing knife. The one she had growing up in Colorado and hand it to Jackson. He looks at me and fastens the case to his pants. I walk over and pull the wakizashi from the wall and tuck it into my belt. It is just small enough so I won’t trip over it as we walk. We both stand in front of the door, my hand on the knob.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Ready.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Gotham
The quiet yet intense argument that took place while our new guests oriented themselves ended abruptly. I argued all of the old arguments and was met head on with post apocalyptic logic.
“But the league…” I snarled
“Bruce there is no league!” That was it. When Dick said those five words it finally hit home that the world as we knew it, the world I had been a protector of no longer exists. I had to reevaluate.
I have decided that our masks are useless. Our identities are of no importance in this new version of Gotham. There are no police or prisons or Arkham for us to send criminals. All we can do is stop them when we can and help those who need help. The cave is well hidden. It will not be found even if the manor is searched. Only one entrance from there is functional and it will not be discovered. We still wear our protective gear and use the tech in the lenses of our masks but for those we help. For those we take in. They see our faces. They know our names. I feel like I am finally accomplishing something. We go out into the city. Try and keep riots and fights to a minimum. We try to help where we can and we will offer shelter. We are also scavenging. Food has become a major variable. We may have power and fresh water but we do not have an endless supply of food. We bring back what we can.
Young Joshua, Mrs. Cleary and Amber stay in the cave. Mrs. Cleary helps Alfred and watches the young one. Amber is still nursing a broken ankle. Though she is seventeen I do not believe she will be able to help outside and I will probably have her assist Mrs. Cleary when her ankle is healed.
The mystery still looms like a dark cloud but patrolling and keeping control is far better than hiding away with a problem that I am starting to believe has no real solutions. I have not given up on it. I just know that Gotham needs Batman. Now maybe more than ever before.
4. Chapter 4
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Warning: Just some general creepiness, nothing serious :)
The Ends 4
New York |
0571ce56567946239b1d37109711f596 | ['4896e7ebe0874507bb028f7eef50108e'] | She decided to fire, to take her shot but before she got a chance to squeeze the trigger, Sam whipped out a gun so fast she barely saw it. He fired and pain exploded in her arm, the one holding the gun. In shock and pain, she dropped the gun, let out a scream and staggered back.
“Stupid bitch,” Sam muttered.
“Nice one, Sammy. I’ll watch them, you find supplies.”
Marnie took huge, heaving breaths. She’d never been shot and it hurt like mother fucking hell. The bullet was stuck in the bone of her arm, she could feel it there. She heard a body drop. Was it Ray? She couldn’t see, the counter was blocking her view.
The short one, Dean came around the counter, confirming that Ray had been either knocked out or killed. He was smiling charmingly and under any other circumstances it would have been breath-taking. He stopped when he got near her and crouched down.
“Ouch!” he said, looking at her arm. “You’d better put some pressure on that, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want you to bleed out just yet, would we?”
She gasped, her eyes flooding with tears. “Wh-what are did you do to Ray?”
“He’s taking a nap,” he answered, eyes roving over her. “It’s better for him, really. You’re the starter. A warm up, y’know? He’ll be the main course. Good looking guy like that? My brother will take _hours_ with him.”
Marnie tried not to throw up. “You’re sick,” she whispered.
“You got nothing to worry about from Sam,” he said with a wink. “He hates girls. Hates to kill them, says they whine too much. No, honey. You’re all mine.”
“Dean,” Sam called. “They’ve got a decent amount of ammo, along with the stuff we needed.”
“Great,” Dean replied, never taking his eyes off of Marnie. “Load the car up, baby boy.”
Marnie tried to shuffle away, because his face was closing in slowly – almost like he was going to kiss her. “Y’know,” he breathed and she felt it on her lips. “You’ve got beautiful skin. It’s all smooth and untouched. I bet you don’t have a single tattoo, huh?”
After a moment she shook her head in confirmation. He grinned. “Mmm, clean canvas. I like that. I’m gonna draw all over you, pretty girl. Make you into a fuckin’ Picasso.”
“Dean,” Sam said, and he was close by. “C’mon.”
Dean yanked Marnie up by her injured arm, causing her to scream and struggle. “You stay close to me, honey.”
She saw what they were taking. Aside from ammo, they’d taken a lot of salt. Some food, two petrol canisters which she knew they would fill. Once Sam had taken everything they apparently needed, he came over to Dean, smiling softly and nuzzling into his brother. The gesture was unmistakably sexual, though Marnie was too shocked and terrified to feel any disgust.
“Kill her, Dean,” her murmured. “Kill her and we can play with the other one.”
“But I wanna play with her first,” Dean replied.
Sam pulled away. “No,” he said, sounding annoyed. “Kill her. Now.”
Dean tightened his grip on her arm and Marnie winced. “Please…” she cried. “Please let us go.”
“Shut up, bitch,” Sam hissed and she saw the disgust in his eyes. Dean was right; there was genuine hatred there. “You say another fuckin’ word and you’ll beg for death in any form!”
“I’m gonna kill her, Sammy. But I just want-”
“No.”
Dean grabbed Marnie’s hair and pulled it cruelly, bringing her close to him. “What are you gonna do about it? You gonna let some fuckin’ bitch shrink your dick?”
“Fuck you, Dean. You know as well as I do why you wanna tear her apart. You’re fucked up about John and this is how you deal!”
Marnie felt dizzy and sick; they were talking about her like she was livestock that couldn’t understand the things they were going to do to her. She had to get away, had to make a break for it even without Ray. Her gun was on the counter where she’d dropped it, right behind her. She could spin and grab it, get off a few shots and run.
“This is who we _are_!” Dean snarled.
“Like when we used to take hostages? Like when you’d go out and find girls wearing his fucking jacket? You’re full of shit!”
Dean threw her down viciously and she skidded away from the counter, near to Ray who was still unconscious on the floor in a pool of blood. She watched as Dean punched Sam in the face, breathing hard – all traces of the playful, charm gone. “How can you say that to me?” he breathed.
“Because it’s true!” Sam replied, spitting blood. “We can’t go down this road because of _him_! That’s what he wants, that’s why he sent that kid to tell us! He knows you, Dean!”
Dean shoved his brother back against the counter, hand around his throat. He was shaking, Marnie could see it. She began to inch backwards towards the store room, eyes fixed on the pair.
“That’s not true,” he told Sam. “It’s _not_!”
Sam brought his hand up and despite being strangled, he lovingly stroked Dean’s cheek. He shook his head and waited.
Dean let out a breath and his grip loosened. He dropped his head to Sam’s chin and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Sammy.”
Sam dipped down, tilted his brother’s face up and kissed him. Marnie was almost at the door when they broke their kiss and looked at her. “You’re right,” Dean said with a nod. “You’re always right, baby boy.”
Sam smiled and Marnie knew what it meant for her.
* | 70f159ca24b041b8923d23f8dbcf5b17 | ['4896e7ebe0874507bb028f7eef50108e'] | _Dean was gripping the material of Sam’s sweats, head bowed as he confessed through gritted teeth what Sam had only ever dreamed about._
_“Say it then,” Sam whispered, trembling all over._
_“Need you to say it first,” Dean said, his voice shaking. “If I’m wrong…if you don’t feel like I do…I’ll die, Sammy. I’ll fuckin’ die.”_
_Sam dropped to his knees, grasping Dean’s face with his hands._
_“Dean,” he moaned low and urgent. “You know I’m in love with you.”_
_His big brother was stone cold sober now, Sam knew his face so well. Dean looked like he couldn’t believe it. “Say it again,” he asked seriously, because this was not something he would accept lightly._
_Sam swallowed a sob. “I’m in love with you, Dean. Not the way brothers are supposed to love each other. I think about you every minute of the day, I want you so badly it hurts.”_
_Dean let out a little punch of air at that, like he could barely believe it. “Jesus Sammy, this is so fucked.”_
_“No,” Sam said, reaching behind Dean’s neck. “Tell me now. I said it, Dean.”_
_Dean seemed to break. Sam had never seen it before and it was beautiful._
_“I’m in love with you too, Sammy,” Dean confessed as he looked down, sliding his hands into Sam’s long hair. “I think…I think I always have been.”_
_Sam’s heart was thundering in his chest, in his ears. He could barely keep his breathing steady._
_“In love how?”_
_Dean looked up. “In love like you’re all I see when I fuck other people. In love like you’re in my bloodstream and my heart and my mind. In love like I said your name when I came less than three hours ago.”_
_Sam tried to stay calm, but he felt like he was going to shake apart. In all the time he’d had these feelings for Dean, he never seriously thought it was be reciprocated. Dean was his guardian, his protector and best friend. To ask for more had seemed impossible._
_“Don’t cry,” Dean said, voice cracking as he wiped away the tears on Sam’s face. “Tell me what you’re thinking, baby boy.”_
_“I’m thinking,” Sammy said, trying to get a grip. “That this is a dream.”_
_Dean kissed Sam then. He leaned forward and closed the small gap between them, pressing his lips to his brothers with tentative care and obvious hesitation. It was chaste and closed mouth, testing the waters. “S’not a dream, Sammy,” he breathed. “I’m so in love with you I can’t see straight. I think… I think I always have been.”_
_Something inside of Sam simply snapped. He slammed his mouth to Dean’s, sloppy with inexperience and desperation. Dean returned the kiss, tangling his hands in Sam’s long hair as he moaned into his mouth. Dean’s experience was evident to Sam but it meant nothing anymore. Dean had been thinking of him, saying his name as he came. It was love, it was the definition of love._
_Dean stood up, taking Sam with him and the two kissed in the middle of the harshly lit kitchen. Sam dragged Dean backwards, forcefully keeping the kiss connected. When the back of his legs hit the table, he pulled Dean downwards and shuffled back until he was lying down on the table, his big brother heavy on top of his. Christ, he was going to drown in this feeling and never resurface._
_He was so hard, leaking precome indecently through his shorts. “Dean,” he groaned, breaking away for air as Dean trailed sloppy, wet kisses all down his neck. “Fuck me. Do it, I want you inside me.”_
_Dean stopped, pulling back. His lips were red and somewhat swollen, fucking delicious. His eyes were wide, pupils blown and Sam wanted to fucking explode just looking at him. “No, baby,” Dean said. “We’re not doing that till you’re older.”_
_Sam sat up a little, leaning back on his elbows. “Seriously? Dean… I don’t give a fuck about being older!”_
_“Well, I do,” Dean said and Sam knew there would be no winning this argument tonight. “But I’ll make you feel good, baby boy don’t you worry.”_
_He pressed a searing kiss to Sammy’s mouth and his deft, work-roughened hands slid down the inside of Sam’s shorts and into his boxers, gripping his eager, aching cock. Sam gasped as his head fell backwards, hitting the table with a thud. He was going to come embarrassingly soon._
_“That’s it,” Dean whispered, lips against Sam’s ear as he worked him pumping rhythmically. “So hot, so hard for me baby, huh? You gonna come for me?” Sam cried out, biting his lip as he tried not to, wanting this to last forever. Dean bit his ear, hard enough to send a jolt through Sam’s whole body and his orgasm his him like a freight train. Dean worked him through it, whispering filthy, hot words into his ear, nestling in his brain and ruining him for all eternity._
_“Love you,” Sam slurred. “So much.”_
_Dean kissed him and said, “Show me.”_
_*_ |
99c479f294eb442fb25996d4f7d57461 | ['48a88e70ec824c14a938d8f8999fb028'] | "A friend of mine was shot at dawn," The poet told him, the words coming easily but his tone too light to be genuinely comfortable with the topic. "I watched a man choke to death and have his throat torn open when he was trapped in the wire. Then, when I was taken for the treatment of a shrapnel wound, a man was carried by me on a stretcher - with his legs only bloodied stumps. All of my poetry includes things that I have seen or experienced, Steve. I find it very difficult to talk about what happened to me, as I'm sure you do. Writing is far easier." He paused, then added, "You should try it."
"Writing poetry?"
"If you think you would find it beneficial."
"I doubt it would be very good poetry. Not on your level, certainly."
Barnes shrugged. "Even if the end result is terrible, writing it may still help."
"I'll bring it to show you," Steve said. "And you can tell me how awful it is. Your real, honest poet's opinion."
At that, Barnes smiled. Not the small, polite one from the previous day; a real, amused smile. "I would be honoured."
Inexplicably, Steve felt his face grow hot. "Definitely, then."
"Definitely," Barnes agreed. He then glanced at his desk, and Steve gladly took the hint.
"I should be leaving, actually. I volunteered to help with today's tasks in the garden."
"Oh? Perhaps you could write a poem about that. A simple topic to start off with, before you go into the depth of what you saw in the trenches?"
"Yes, I like that idea," Steve responded as he made his way to the door. "Thank you, Barnes."
"You're welcome," The other man replied. "Thank you for coming to visit me."
"It was a pleasure."
"I'm glad that you think so. I won't keep you any longer. But Steve?"
Steve, whose attention had wandered to the small crowd outside the lecture hall that indicated that the mid-morning activities were soon to begin, glanced back. "Yes?"
"Please, call me James."
4. Chapter 4
It was very surprising for Steve just how much he enjoyed gardening. He'd always enjoyed drawing flowers, among other things, when he'd been able to afford the materials, but he had never really considered taking the time to plant any. Frankly, he'd never had the time, what with working any hours he could get at the local market between bouts of illness in order to pay his rent and add to his forever dwindling savings.
After a good few hours of digging holes in moist soil and gently patting it down around the fragile seedlings, Steve had decided that gardening would be one of the activities that he would regularly take part in. He pressed another handful of soil around the stem of one of the plants, smiling to himself as he considered this. Dulard was sure to be proud - taking part in group activities and following his suggestion of speaking to Sergeant Barnes? Steve was almost cooperating, and that, when taking into account his stubbornness, was something the doctor would find pleasing.
"You seem to be enjoying yourself," A woman's voice commented from behind him, slightly teasing. Immediately, Steve stood up and turned around to face her. It was only polite to do so. She was very beautiful, he noted. Her hair, a glossy dark brown in colour, was pulled back from her face and mostly hidden beneath the hat that was part of the hospital nurse's uniform. Her expression was gentle, as was her voice, but her eyes were deep and seemed to hide a fire with them. What man would _dare_ to remain ill in her care, he had no idea.
"I am, ma'am. I've never spent much time in the garden," He replied after a moment.
The nurse smiled. "I do suppose it depends where you lived before the War. I lived in London; we had a large garden so I often spent time out there," Her question was unspoken, clearly not wanting to press Steve for information.
"I lived in Brooklyn," He told her, easily enough. "There were very few gardens in my neighbourhood."
"I see," The woman said tactfully, and Steve was pleased that she seemed to understand his implied financial background just from that. Back in the trenches, fellow soldiers had often suggested that he just move to Manhattan as it was a much nicer area. It was unbelievable how oblivious some people could be, particularly those who had plenty of money in their pockets.
Steve was abruptly drawn from his thoughts when she added, "You do have plenty of time and room to garden here. You may as well enjoy it before you leave."
"Yes, ma'am," Steve agreed. "I'm sure I will."
She opened her mouth as if to say something else, but just as she did a young woman called to her from one of the hospital's many entrances; a flight of stone steps leading to a grand double doorway. "Peggy!" The girl shouted again, balancing a pile of what appeared to be freshly laundered sheets on one arm. "Dr Rivers would like to see you."
The nurse, Peggy, glanced over for a second. "I'm sure I'll see you out here again soon," She said, looking back at Steve. "Take care of yourself, Private."
Steve nodded quickly. "Yes, ma'am," He said with conviction. "You too."
Peggy gave Steve a warm smile, before heading over to the steps. She took half of the pile from the other nurse, who looked very grateful, and together they headed indoors. Steve watched her go until she was out of sight, and then - rather unwillingly - turned his attention back to his seedlings.
* * * | 165d213de0c04d4d8cef90b94e887485 | ['48a88e70ec824c14a938d8f8999fb028'] | When Steve was satisfied, he made his way back up to his room for a rest before lunch. Resting and recreational activities were a key part of recovery, as far as the doctors were concerned, and plenty of time was given each day for both. There was still an hour before lunch, and Steve had plans to wash the dirt from his face and arms before taking a short nap.
However, once he was clean, Steve's eyes fell on the paper Dr Dulard had put on his bedside drawers. One of Dulard's earlier ideas had been for Steve to note down anything that he would like to discuss, but it had never been necessary. For a start, Steve never wanted to discuss anything at all during their meetings. But now, he was thinking of Barnes - or, rather, James - and the poem that he'd suggested writing. Steve was no poet, but perhaps he could experiment? The result was sure to be at the very least entertaining.
Unlike James, though, Steve had nowhere comfortable to write. He didn't have a desk, possibly because he wasn't a published poet and had no right to such a privilege, and so the only hard, flat surface available was the polished wood of the chest of drawers. That, of course, was too far for Steve to reach when seated on either his chair or his bed. Eventually, after experimentation, Steve found that the best way to write was to lay on the floor, propped up on one elbow. It was in this position that he attempted to write his first poem:
> _Gardening._
>
> _Green grass, clouds pass,_
>
> _Toiling away in the garden._
>
> _Seeds grow, leaves show,_
>
> _Stems are sure to harden._
>
>
Steve stopped, and read the first four lines back to himself.
The only positive to the entire short stanza was that some of it rhymed. Compared to Barnes' poetry - ' _You are too young to fall asleep for ever; and when you sleep you remind me of the dead_ ' ** - it was highly embarrassing. Still, he considered, James might find it amusing if nothing else.
Speculatively glancing at his wristwatch, Steve was surprised that it was only ten minutes until the soldiers were served their small lunch in the main dining room. He had worked up quite an appetite in the garden, and lunch was not something that he had intentions of missing. He would have to find James afterwards and give his poem to him then. But, he considered, if he took a small detour on the way he could easily post the piece of paper beneath James' door for him to read after lunch. Then, James could read it and maybe even respond before dinner. _I could even visit him again_ , Steve thought, but he soon pushed that thought away from his mind. While he had been polite, Steve had gotten the impression that James did not like the visitors that Dr Dulard sent his way.
Suddenly aware that his window of opportunity was closing, Steve scribbled a signature on the bottom of the page and then carefully folded it in half, slipping it into the top pocket of his shirt. He would have to walk quickly if he wanted to get to lunch in time.
Since Steve had managed to remember the route he had taken to James' room on his last visit, it was only a few minutes before he was once again standing at the end of the hallway beside the window. He hesitated, piece of paper in hand. What if James simply wanted to laugh at him? What if he thought that Steve was too uneducated to associate with? But then, why should that even matter to Steve? After a moment of indecision, Steve abruptly bent down and slid the poem through the small gap at the bottom of the door. Then, unsure if James was inside or not, he hurried away. There was no way that he wanted to see James' face as he read the appalling poem. Besides, he was starving.
Which was why Steve wasn't there when, a short while later, laughter came from behind the door to the poet's room for the first time in months.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> **'The Dug-Out', Siegfried Sassoon.
> As Bucky's character is largely based on the famous war poet Siegfried Sassoon, I chose to use quotes from his poems whenever I'm quoting poetry written by 'Bucky'. All of these will, of course, be credited. While I can jokingly write terrible poetry (reference Steve's attempt), I could never successfully recreate poetry like Sassoon's.
>
> Also, I know that being a nurse isn't the most original role for a female character (sorry, Peggy and Angie!) but this is a WWI AU set in a hospital...there's only so much feminism I can get into this environment. And, believe me, it'll come.
>
> Finally: 'Stems are sure to harden'. Poor Steve and his accidental innuendos! You never know, it could work in his favour...
5. Chapter 5
Mere minutes after Steve sat down at a table and began to eat, James entered the dining room.
Steve realised quite abruptly that he had never encountered the poet outside of his own domain near the lecture hall, and a similar thought seemed to be occurring to some of the men sitting at the tables surrounding Steve's. Around the room, he could see his fellow soldiers and patients glancing in James' direction. James had clearly noticed, and was ducking his head to avoid making eye contact with anybody.
"Barnes!" One man finally called across the room in greeting, breaking what had become a strange, tense silence. "It's good to see you again!" |
1e7ba2cdcaaa485cbfff2cf996861493 | ['48d7ffc5cfd84c2880aa01d1fe343060'] | " _Atlas Shrugged_ is on my reading list for this year." Reagan said with a soft laugh. Who knew that little old her had so much in common with Mark Pellegrino?
"It's great, though I When you're done we should discuss it."
And that comment alone gave her reason to believe that they'd keep in contact. It made her insides flutter at the thought, though she knew they'd never be romantic. He couldn't possible ever like her like that. "That would be great."
Eventually they reached the restaurant and her mouth dropped. Thankfully, the wealthy man beside her was the one buying because Reagan could never afford a place like this. "Oh wow.."
"Only the best for my gorgeous dinner date." And there came that incredibly charming smile that caused her cheeks to heat.
oOo
The dinner went smoothly, and they chatted easily like old friends throughout the expensive, but delicious, dinner. "Are you coming to the con tomorrow?" Mark asked as they shared a piece of overpriced tiramisu.
Reagan shook her head. "Not on my salary. Maybe one day."
"Any particular fandoms that you're into?"
She grinned shyly behind her wine glass at the question, never really having discussed her fandoms with anyone. "Uh, yes. Star Trek." Again she blushed in embarrassment, but Mark seemed unfazed. "And The Walking Dead."
"Star Trek is great. Definitely a show worth loving. And as the The Walking Dead? I'm only on season three so no spoilers."
"Dang. We have a lot in common.."
"Come to the con with me tomorrow."
"Mark, I-"Reagan started, but he reached out and pressed a finger to her lips. She pouted a little and he laughed softly at this.
"Do you have sick days at work?" He asked, and she merely nodded since the finger still kept her from speaking.
"Take one. Spend the day with me at the convention center. Let me take you to a panel or two. Buy you lots of Star Trek things. Generally spoil you and have a good time. Please?"
The older man removed his finger and Reagan just stared at him for a long few moments. "Why would you want to do that? Spend your money on me, show me around. We just met."
Mark smiled and leaned forward on his elbows. "Because I think you're great. Reagan, you're beautiful and intelligent. And I would be lucky to spend my day with you. Say yes?"
How anyone could say no to that, she didn't know. Mark Pellegrino was a very charming and likable, and the thought of spending the day with him at the con sounded wonderful. "Fiiiine. I'll take a sick day. You've convinced me."
He grinned, a victorious and faintly smug grin, and paid for their dinner. "You seem like the kind of person that doesn't skip work a lot."
She rolled her eyes and blushed. He was correct on that. "Haven't used a sick day yet this year."
2. Chapter Two
Reagan barely slept that night and was up with the sun the next morning, excited for the day ahead. After talking to her friend, and her boss, the woman was more than willing to let her take the day. After a nice shower, it took forever to choose an outfit, but she decided on a red t-shirt, jeans, and comfy shoes. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun, glasses perched on her face as always. Having some time to spare, she settled on her couch and pulled out her phone, deciding to google to the man she was about to spend the day with. His resume was impressive and she couldn't help but click through the various pictures of the handsome man.
"I have to be dreaming.." Reagan whispered to herself. But as she pulled up a selfie of them from last night, she realized that this was in fact real. And that she really had gone out with Mark Ross Pellegrino.
It was embarrassing, really. Reagan had watched The Tomorrow People only weeks before and fallen in love with Jedikiah Price almost instantly. Sexy, dangerous. Everything she liked in a TV character. In fact, she watched all of season one over a weekend. Binging occasionally was a hobby of hers. To be fair, she had been used of the perfect hair, clean shaven face, and suit wearing character, so when she'd spilled coffee on him, she hadn't recognized him. Mark had been wearing jeans, a zombie t-shirt, and a blazer. He'd been wearing glasses and blonde scruff had adorned his face. Either look was pretty great, though.
Hearing a knock, Reagan was pulled out of her thoughts, and she grabbed her cute leather jacket and her bag before heading to the door. Opening it, a smile tipped up her lips at the bouquet of flowers that covered his face and a faint giggle slipped from her lips. "This wasn't necessary."
Mark lowered the flowers and grinned, holding them out. "Maybe not. But I'm enjoying the grin on your face right now."
Reagan took the flowers and blushed, turning to head back into her small house. "Stop being so nice. I hate turning red." She motioned him to follow, and headed into the kitchen, grabbing a vase from a low cabinet. "Thank you, by the way. Going to the con was more than enough. Especially after dinner last night."
"You're welcome. And a woman like you deserves to be spoiled a bit, so just enjoy it."
Reagan finished with the flowers and turned back to Mark, a more serious expression on her face. Her father had not been a good one, and he'd often told her she wasn't worthy of gifts or spoiling, or even pretty enough to have a man woo her. Mark noticed the change in her expression but didn't speak, merely stood and let her eyes study his own. After a long moment, Reagan collected herself and gave him an excited smile. "Shall we go?" | 1f939a0ce50c4f52865149e7c54110ca | ['48d7ffc5cfd84c2880aa01d1fe343060'] | > Disclaimer: I have never been to a convention before, so I don't know how they're set up. I'm just guessing, so if I'm wrong, my apologies.
>
> Also. This isn't going to be an instant falling in love and happily ever after. There will be arguments. Fights. Real life stuff.
>
> Enjoy!
Stopping outside of the room they'd been in before, he turned to look at her. "I'll be right back and we'll walk the floor. I have a phone call to return."
Reagan brushed her fingers through her bangs, a nervous habit, and smiled. "Sounds perfect."
"I know you don't seem to like a lot of attention, but if you've noticed, hanging out with me is going to bring that. Will you be okay with that?" Mark was genuinely worried that she would be uncomfortable with people stopping them for pictures and things, and he didn't want to overwhelm her.
Reagan stepped a bit closer and adjusted his jacket, smiling up into his face to reassure him. "I am. As long as I get to spend the rest of the day with you, none of that matters."
Mark's smile matched her own, and he gave her arm a squeeze before winking and walking away. She stepped into the currently empty room and wandered to the snack table to grab a water before plopping onto a couch. She could hear Jared and Jensen out on the stage answering questions and she leaned her head back and smiled. This day was shaping into something great.
"So how'd you meet Mark?" Reagan glanced over as the couch shifted under new weight, locking eyes with Briana again.
"I spilt coffee on him yesterday morning. And he asked me to dinner."
Briana burst out laughing and reached out a hand to pat Reagan's leg. "Mark is a good guy. Very unique and enjoyable to be around. And a heck of a lot nicer than you would imagine Lucifer would be."
"Yeah..he's definitely great so far. Been a very long time since any male, much less one like him, paid attention to me. I'm probably enjoying it too much."
"No such thing. Allow yourself to be happy and enjoy his company. Let him spoil you and be okay with it. I can promise you that his intentions are in the best of places." Glancing at her watch, she smiled. "Photo op with Kim."
"Thanks, Briana.." Reagan hugged the woman before she sauntered off looking all kinds of gorgeous.
Moment later, Mark came in wearing a smile and held out a hand to help her off the low couch. "Ready?" The excitement in his own face made her happy, especially since she was about to burst herself.
"So ready." He placed a hand on her back as the left for the main part of the convention, followed closely by the body guards from earlier.
Leaning close, his voice dropped a bit. "And just so you're aware, I'm as much of a trekkie as you are. Grew up watching it."
"Glad to know I'm not alone."
oOo
The crowd was unlike anything she had ever seen, and Reagan was glad Mark had slipped his hand into hers as they navigated through the various exhibits. Having happened upon several Walking Dead ones, she was now in possession of two Negan t-shirts, and they were stowed away in a sling bag he'd bought for her as well. Reagan was having a hard time not smiling now, and he too seemed to be enjoying their time and conversation.
As they approached a Supernatural exhibit, a shy girl with a red face caught Reagan's attention. She had been approaching but gave a short shake of her head and turned on her heel. Quickly excusing herself from Mark, Reagan caught up with her and tapped her on the shoulder. "Hi. I uh couldn't help but notice, but it looked like you wanted to talk to Mark?"
The girl, about fifteen or so, turned and then ducked her head with a shy smile. "I could- he's- uh, no. No, I didn't."
"I'm Reagan. What's your name?"
"Marissa…" The girl's voice was quiet and she hugged a sketchbook to her chest.
"I know Mark would really like to see your drawing. He's really great. Come say hi with me." Reagan said, holding out her hand. Marissa swallowed, but nodded her agreement and took Reagan's hand, and they walked back to Mark who'd been watching them with a soft smile. "Mark, this is Marissa."
"Hi, Marissa. Lovely to meet you." Marissa blushed and shakily held out her sketchpad, and Mark took it, turning it over to see the picture she'd drawn. Reagan too was able to see it and she was very impressed with the young artist's skills. It was a picture of who she assumed to be Lucifer, and it was very intricate and detailed. It looked just like Mark, minus the skin peeling, of course. "This is incredible. You're very talented."
"T-Thank you. Could you maybe…would you please sign this for me?" Marissa held out a marker and Mark took it, writing a message and signing the bottom of the picture.
"My pleasure. It was wonderful to meet you, Marissa. Enjoy the rest of the con."
Marissa waved and hurried away, a permanent smile on her face. Mark turned back to Reagan and gave her a knowing look. "That was a nice thing to do, you know."
"She's a lot like me. And I figured that maybe I could help her out." He lifted her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles before putting his arm over her shoulders and walking over the booth they'd been heading to.
oOo |
04ef0a436e3d4787926a67004e57dac6 | ['490521f3ed174979afb21907f125b33a'] | Agent Crux finds a late-night visitor
“Oh, hey Crux, how are you?”
Crux froze, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose in a stunned silence as she stared at her intruder, unsure how exactly to respond.
“Forte?” Her voice was hushed. It was late- neary four in the morning, and she had recently woken up for a late night trip to the bathroom. In a detour for a cup of water, she found the blonde-haired agent, Alto Clef’s new pet, and longtime friend of Crux, Piano Forte. “How did you get in here?”
“Oh, y’know! Tips n’ tricks!” Forte responded with her usual cheer, resting her face in her hands as she grinned up to Crux. Crux could have sworn the agent’s tattoos stared at her as well. She furrowed her brow- Crux knew how this worked. She would wait until a sufficient response was given, and Forte would give one.
Three… two… one…
“Your window was unlocked.” Agent Forte’s expression remained unchanged.
Was she here to see Sylvester? It was late, too late for even Forte to be out looking for adventure, not like they really did that anymore.
Actually, they really didn’t do much of anything anymore. Forte, besides the mentorship of Dr. Clef and Agent Adams, had been on her own, too busy working to spend time with old friends. Apollo was gone on another field mission with Omnibeta, and Sylvester…
They were Sylvester.
“Are… you okay?”
Forte blinked, her smile fading for barely a second as she processed the question.
It did not usually take Forte this long to process a question.
She returned to the jovial grin a few moments after, finally ready to reply. “Absolutely fine and dandy, Crux! Hey, is Sylvie awake?”
“It’s four in the morning.” Crux’s voice was flat.
“And…? Pray tell, when’s the last time both of you’s were asleep at four?”
Crux gave a sigh, ignoring the question.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Forte grinned.
There were a few moments of pure silence. It grew later as the two sat, Forte watching Crux’s every move as she finished her cup of water, put the cup in the dishwasher, and walked to the doorway. Forte watched as Crux turned back to look at Forte. Forte hurried to put her signature grin back on.
“Forte… you wanna sleep here tonight?”
“...Yeah.”
“Cool.
LINK
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks for reading my weird original SCP content! Me, LINK and to an extent the mod of LINK have put together a sort of storyline revolving around Agent Sylvester of an MTF with the nickname "Men in Black" who handles the spread of information across the anomalous and civilian world, mostly through talking to different GOIs, legal battles, and keeping information safe. Wondertainment, of course, isn't a fan of this, and harasses Sylvester in very petty and very harmful ways.
>
> This is not about Wondertainment at all, though. This is about Sylvester's weird friend Forte.
>
> Agent Forte and Agent Crux both belong to LINK | 24aa04dcecb74a06aadfaec091877863 | ['490521f3ed174979afb21907f125b33a'] | Going M.A.D.
_I hate you so much. Have I said that before? Thought I might reiterate._
**Woah, slow down there, boyo.**
Clef made a messy cut to the sandwich with a butterknife. It left the food crushed and sad- Bright bit his proverbial tongue so as not to comment on how it represented the two of them. Clef heard the thoughts anyway.
It had been close to a week that Clef had taken hold of Bright’s amulet, a week of Bright occupying a space in Clef’s brain, co-piloting the body. Bright had not expected Clef to live, Clef the same to Bright. Bright was soon to find his consciousness shared with another’s- a presence which felt looming, strong, a force in the brain which left Bright unable to make out his own thoughts, smelling copper in the air and leaving his hands clammy.
**You keep repeatin’ yourself like it means something, Jack. I know you’re not stupid. Be a big boy and deal with it.**
Bright seemed to go quiet. Clef could feel his barely-stifled anger.
Clef, now, sat in his kitchen, calm as he could be- hell, exhausted, even. Bright had been aggressive, and as common as Clef knew it was, it was never his job to handle. Now, if Clef were to live, he had to live with this, unsure what would happen if the amulet was taken off, and unwilling to let himself die at the hands of Jack Bright.
**You act like a kid, you know?**
The headspace was silent.
**********What was that with the bread knife- the fifth time in, what, two days you’ve tried to kill us? Yeah, I lost track, buddy.
** You're like one of those boys who got dad’s old gun for the first time. "I have a gun, I have a gun," it’s all you hear. Maybe they’ll shoot some squirrels, be real proud of it, use it to bully their classmates- y’know, we get it at this point. It’s been- hell, I don't even remember how long you've been here.
You got daddy issues, Jack. Nobody’s surprised. Get over yourself.
The room around Clef was just as quiet as his head. He considered turning on the TV. Some of the bread had gotten a bit soggy from a nearly-spilled drink.
******You’re sulking, too. Just like that asshole kid. You think I’m happy with this either?**
_...Alto, we're friends, right?_
Bright's voice rang through the mind of Clef, his frustration barely veiled.
Jesus fucking christ.
******Best friends, Jack.**
_Yeah, don’t lie to me._ ** **
_How about, Alto, you just take the amulet off, god damn- or break it, or something. I really don’t care. You know I don’t want to be here, so stop keeping me here, and maybe I’ll die! It’s that easy._
Clef took a sip of a ginger ale.
**You know you aren’t ready to die, pal. Don’t lie to me, either.** |
067eb84c21784f218385afb87a34eaf7 | ['4910348b186d458e99eb35424fd87f8c'] | He nodded thoughtfully as he took off his heavy FBI jacket. Underneath he was wearing a gray t-shirt.
Audrey peered up at him. “You can change if you want. I won’t look.” She held a hand over her eyes to demonstrate, but peeked through her fingers after only a few seconds.
He laughed quietly. “You don’t give me good reason to believe you. Now, I want to hear more about your troubles.”
“Well, let’s see.” She stretched out her arms and sank deeper into the bed. “My mom blames me for what happened to Johnny—why he’s like that.”
“Audrey,” he said softly, “there’s no way that that could be your fault.”
“I know,” she sighed. “She thinks it’s because once I pushed him down the stairs when we were little.” Her bottom lip quivered dangerously, and Cooper felt suddenly nervous. “We were just playing. I didn’t mean to hurt him.”
“No, of course not,” he said, involuntarily resting a hand on her knee. She seemed to cheer up rather quickly when he did this, and when he tried to remove his hand she trapped it under hers. He pretended not to notice the intimate way that she rubbed his hand with her thumb.
He laughed uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair. “I think we pretty much covered family.” He gritted his teeth together in an effort to not react to the sensation of her fingers caressing the underside of his wrist. Then he noticed the forgotten malts and fries, still on the bed, and seized the opportunity. “I’ll move these,” he muttered, slipping his hand off of her knee.
Audrey pouted slightly, her abandoned knee feeling cold. Even though he had earlier assured her that she was “everything a man wants in his life” she couldn’t believe it now. If she was so perfect then how did he scrape up the willpower to resist her?
“How about friends?” he asked, his tone making it clear that he was turning the page on what just happened. “Any troubles with your friends?”
“No,” she mumbled.
“Well, that’s good.”
“Because I don’t have any,” she added, her eyes flashing defiantly.
Cooper sighed. What was it about this girl? She was a never ending chain of surprises; one after another. It was downright exhausting.
“Of course you have friends, Audrey.”
“I told you that I don’t.” She arched her severely sculpted eyebrows in a clear challenge.
“Well, who do you talk to at school?”
“No one, really.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Do you try to make friends?”
“Nope,” she said contently. “It’s not worth the effort.”
“It’s not good for a young girl not to have someone her own age to talk to,” he said gently.
“How would you know?” she fired back. “You were never a young girl.”
He smiled. “Fair enough. So, no friends. As long as you’re not lonely, I guess.” He hesitated before asking his next question. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
She winced slightly. “No.”
“Really? Pretty girl like you?” The words felt and sounded forcedly casual.
She smiled coyly, lifting herself up and moving toward him. “I don’t want to mess around with high school boys…” she said breathily. Her lips were nearly touching his ear when she said, “I need a man…” She considered nipping his earlobe—which she had never done, but thought would be a nice, sexy touch—but Cooper stood abruptly.
Focusing only on cooling off, he didn’t say anything for a minute. When Audrey had settled down, hugging her legs to her chest as her face burned from embarrassment, he sat on the edge of the bed. “I thought we were done with that,” he said, his voice strained.
She dropped her forehead onto her knees, fearing that she had cancelled out any progress that had been made. But when she risked a peek, he looked back to his normal, chipper self.
“How’s school going?”
“Fine,” she answered, her eyes wide in surprise and relief.
“Get good grades?”
“Yeah. Without even trying much.” She shrugged, gauging his expression—would he be impressed by her natural intelligence? She couldn’t tell.
“That’s good—but don’t get accustomed to it. Eventually you’ll have to put some effort in.”
She nodded, panicking slightly as she felt the conversation inevitably running dry. “Thank you, Special Agent,” she said sincerely. “You really helped a lot.”
“I’m glad.” He smiled, wondering why she was still lying on his bed. He was about to not-so-subtly suggest she leave when she interrupted him.
“Now it’s your turn,” she said, folding her hands over her stomach, all ears suddenly.
“What?”
“Tell me about your problems.”
“Audrey…”
“It feels great to get stuff off your chest, trust me.”
“I’m sorry, Audrey, but—”
“If you hold it all inside you’ll explode.”
He looked vaguely amused as he surrendered. “Fine. As of now I’d say my biggest problem is the murder of Laura Palmer.”
“Nice try, but that doesn’t count. I meant _personal_ problems.”
He narrowed his eyes, but she didn’t see because her own eyes were closed as she spread out on the bed, her chest rising and falling slightly. He envied her as his tired muscles ached for a well-deserved rest.
“Okay, okay,” Cooper began. “I’m a work-oriented individual. The FBI is my life. So much so that I can hardly think of any personal problems… Current ones, anyway.”
Audrey yawned and nodded, lulled by the soft drone of his voice, not absorbing any words or meaning.
He continued, “Maybe that’s what my problem is. All my friends are in the FBI—”
“Except me,” she piped up, smiling sleepily.
He laughed quietly. “Yes, except you. But still—I wouldn’t have met you if it weren’t for my job.” Glancing back over at her, he found he couldn’t tell whether she was awake or asleep anymore. “Audrey?” he called softly, nudging her shoulder. “Audrey?” | b6334e658ad643a58e2d47b21c128e9d | ['4910348b186d458e99eb35424fd87f8c'] | “Yeah, feel free to consider your options. Or, feel encouraged to. That’s all.”
They’ve reached the train station. Reigen smiles at him and they say goodnight and they get on separate trains, going in opposite directions.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> lol @ me only mentioning Dimple, like… in passing, here and there… is he even around? who knows
7. Mid April
It’s the start of a new school year, and Mob’s friend Tome has started coming around the office, acting like she works here. Reigen figures it can’t hurt to give her something to do; he doesn’t want to be his own secretary when he doesn’t have to, and he feels bad delegating all the busy work to Serizawa. Tome’s so excited about “working at a real psychic’s office” (her words, not his) that she doesn’t seem to mind if the work is mostly answering the phone and doing whatever other tasks Reigen can dream up for her.
It’s a good arrangement; she sits with her feet up at Mob’s little reception desk (Reigen didn’t have the heart to throw it out, anyway) and in between the rare phone calls, she talks at Reigen and Serizawa, while Reigen nods his head absently and Serizawa indulges her with little comments.
“Do you think that deja vu is caused by a spirit?” she asks one afternoon.
Reigen glances up at her briefly, his eyebrows furrowed. Serizawa, sitting at his own desk, also glances up, looking like he’s thoughtfully considering it.
“No, Tome,” Reigen says and then returns his attention to his email.
“Mm… Are you sure? Where does it come from, then?”
Serizawa takes out his cell phone and after some quick tapping, he says, “Ah. The cause is unknown but there are a few theories.” He reads them out loud. Something about the temporal lobe… “dual-processing”… Reigen zones it out, and Tome seems to do the same, because as soon as he’s done reading, she says:
“Hm. Well, if it’s unknown then it _could_ be a spirit… Right, Reigen-san?”
Reigen really wants to say no, but he’s already learned to pick his battles with this girl. He shrugs. “I guess.”
“Hopefully, next time you have deja vu you’ll be in the office, Kurata-san,” Serizawa says, smiling. He’s always more than happy to humor her. “Then we can test your theory.”
The phone rings right then, and Tome rolls her eyes. “Talk about deja vu.” She waits the mandated two and a half rings—company policy, can’t let the clients think they’re sitting around next to the phone with nothing to do—and answers. “Good afternoon, Spirits & Such Consultation.”
Her voice gets about an octave higher when she’s on the phone; it’s kind of endearing. All her pestering aside, she really wants to do a good job. Mob was awful on the phone—flat and monotone—which was endearing in its own way, but not good for business. Serizawa is getting better, but Reigen suspects he’ll never relish the opportunity to answer the phone.
While she’s on the phone, pre-screening the client, the door opens. Tome immediately takes her feet down from the desk—she does have a sense for being professional when there are clients involved, he’ll give her that.
But it’s not a client. Reigen wouldn’t have recognized the kid immediately if Serizawa didn’t tell him he was coming. It’s Shou, his once-spiky hair now buzzed down nearly to his scalp, wearing a hoodie and jeans. Serizawa gets up from his desk and greets him quietly, to not interrupt Tome’s phone call.
They’re getting an early dinner before Shou has to go back home; he doesn’t come to Seasoning City often, but, from what Reigen hears, he’s remained friends with Ritsu, and visits once in a while.
Shou glances around the office and over to Reigen. He nods a greeting. “Reigen.”
“Hey, Shou,” Reigen says back, equally casually. They’ve never really even met, in the formal sense, but it feels a little late for that. Reigen tried to punch his dad, his dad tried to kill Reigen, Shou was witness to all of it. They’re past the point of needing an introduction.
“Ready to go?” Shou asks Serizawa.
Serizawa nods and turns to Reigen. “I’ll be back after.”
They’re gone before Tome is off the phone. When she does hang up, she wheels her chair over to Reigen’s desk. “Saito-san will be coming in on Thursday at 10 with the haunted urn of her late husband’s ashes.”
“Oh.” Reigen raises his eyebrows. “That sounds loaded. Anything seem off about it?”
Tome sticks her elbows on his desk and rests her chin in her hands. “She was very business-like. And it doesn’t sound like a malicious spirit; just moving things around the house, opening cupboards, turning lights on… Do you think she killed him?”
Tome sounds downright gleeful at the possibility. Reigen fights the urge to crack a smile. “We don’t talk about our clients that way.” (And, no, he doesn’t think so. He thinks she’s an elderly woman with a bit of dementia.)
“Fine.” Tome drops her head down to rest on his desk and sighs. “Who was that?”
“Who?”
“That kid. Is that Serizawa’s nephew or something?”
“Um. No. Just a friend.”
“A friend?”
Reigen doesn’t answer, but that doesn’t deter Tome.
“Reigen-san… What did Serizawa do before he started working here? He keeps saying weird, cryptic things. And you said he was a shut-in? What’s that about?”
Reigen keeps his eyes on his laptop screen. “Have you asked him yourself?”
“No…”
“Well, I’m not going to tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s personal,” he says. “It’s not for me to go around telling random teenagers.”
Tome lifts her head up to say indignantly, “I’m not a random teenager, I work here.”
“You _volunteer_ here.”
She pouts, arms crossed. “No one tells me anything. First Mob-kun, now you…”
That gets his attention. “You asked Mob about Serizawa?”
“Yeah, he was _real helpful_ ,” she answers, laying on the sarcasm thick. |
1af4a29aabe8489e9c195eded28c720a | ['49132e428294499a8159081f88b2af85'] | Bishop sat down, hung his head down and rubbed his forehead. He tried to place missing pieces of the puzzle of his memory together, and the harder he tried, the harder it became. What he had read in the journal... it matched every single time he had fuzzy feelings of. Like that little something had been replaced by a void he had no means to fill. Karnwyr's mysterious recovery... the scar on his side that he didn't remember how exactly it had been mended... the time in the forest, the brawl in the tavern... and the walk on the road to Whiterun when he had felt odd...
"I... think I need some air." Bishop said eventually as he stood up and walked out.
39. A house on wheels
A house on wheels
“It’s sooooo big!” Senna said as she had entered the biggest of the waggons by the stables. Drea could only agree. It was almost like a house on it’s own and it was hard to believe horses could actually pull this huge thing. Besides that is was also more the accomodation of a noble. So clean and tidy and just...rich. She noticed that part of it was even made from the same wood that Bishop’s bow was made of. And if a single bow had cost that much…
“Impressive, isn’t it?” the paladin asked as he stepped inside behind them. “It has been a gift from the Emperor to the order but we barely use it. Riches spoil the mind.”
Drea just nodded, still overwhelmed.
Senna scurried to the nearest little bed and made a belly flop on the mattress. "So soft!" she giggled happily. "Dwea, can we keep this?"
“No, Senna. This is only for nobles.” Drea answered.
"Aww", Senna looked disappointed and got off the bed to explore the wagon a bit more.
“I think you should consider it.” the paladin said. We do not have need for it and if you plan on traveling with the girl… well it is not my place to talk about that sort of thing, but she might have it better with a larger waggon where she lives like in a home.”
Drea blushed. “But it is…”
"Fancy, meant for a noble, but your journey might take a long time. The child will grow. She'll need space." the paladin explained.
Bishop walked to the scene, and he pulled Drea close to give her a kiss. A rather passionate one at that, not caring about the paladin seeing it. He just needed to feel Drea's presence...
“Hmpf-” Drea struggled until she realized it was Bishop. She turned in his arms and kissed him back. “You startled me.”
"Sorry, sweetness", Bishop said sincerely. Then his gaze wandered around the interior of the wagon. "A bit too fancy, don't you think?"
"Bishoooop!" Senna called out at the upper level where there were more beds on the other side, reached with a ladder. "It's so pwetty! And the beds awe waam and soft!" she advertised with a cheerful tone. "I like it!"
“Come down, Senna.” Bishop called out, now having noticed the Ebonwood as well. If she broke anything they were doomed and would be slaves to those paladins for the rest of their lives.
"Okie!" Senna said, sounding a bit disappointed. She carefully climbed down the ladder and scurried to Bishop, taking his hand and beaming a smile at him. "Can we play in the snow, please? Pwetty please?"
Bishop lifted her up and hugged her tightly. “Didn’t you want to find us a nice home to travel with?”
Senna pointed inside the wagon. "I alweady did!" she said with a pout.
“We can’t afford such a fancy thing, princess.” Bishop said with a slight frown. He liked the interior. For a fancy place it was really nice. But he’d be damned to ask for something he knew he could not afford.
The paladin chuckled. "Seems like your daughter has chosen already."
"She's not my..." Bishop started, lifting Senna up and brushing over her cheek gently as there was some dirt on it. "She's my little princess."
Senna’s mouth drew from a pout into a happy smile. She hugged Bishop tightly, feeling safe and happy on Bishop’s arm.
“Well…. I guess we could talk to the Master…” Drea said carefully. “But only if you really don’t need it.”
Bishop glanced at the wagon one more time. Too fancy, too expensive, too elaborate... it screamed: Come and rob me! Something more... common would be better.
"It is nice, but..." Bishop admitted.
"But can we keep it?" Senna finished his sentence in a pleading manner. "Please?"
"Have you checked the other ones?" Bishop asked from Senna. "Did you like any of them?"
"They we'e pwetty, but I like this one the most."
Bishop stepped out of the...waggon and walked over to the other ones with Senna on his arm. On closer inspection they were really too small for all of them. With this big one they could easily travel to cold Skyrim, to Elsweyr with its spontaneous rainfall and the pesky insects that would bother Drea, to Morrowind with the demanding weather… And with this big thing they would not have to worry about finding a tavern. “Maybe we should talk to the others about it…” he suggested unsure.
Senna nodded vigorously. "Let's go talk to them wight now!"
They thanked the paladin and turned to the exit. Senna cheerfully waved and said “See you later house.”
“A moving house?” Luc asked Senna with a smile.
“M-hmm.” Senna confirmed. “And it is big and thewe awe soft beds. But Bishop and Dwea say it’s only for nobles.”
“Well Cara is a noble Lady and you are a little princess.” Luc said with a smirk. “Maybe we should go have a look together.” He knew if Bishop and Drea had ruled it out already they would not have this conversation. But it was clear they were not sure about this. | be390a95c0ff413ebb09a57709ac4252 | ['49132e428294499a8159081f88b2af85'] | Drea was happy about the attention. She smiled brightly and kissed her beloved. “Mine, all mine!” she declared. Casavir chuckled and made sure Ruru was covered well and lay comfortably in his arm. “Mine, all mine.” he whispered into Ruru’s hair.
Ruru felt a lovely shiver run down her spine when she heard Casavir say that. She lifted her face and quickly kissed the side of his chin. "My dear knight."
The carriage moved on and on. The two couples in the carriage were content.
The next morning they reached the Imperial City. Drea’s home to be precise. Casavir and Ruru would travel a little further, but for now they got of the carriage with their friends and helped carrying the luggage inside. Both Casavir and Ruru greeted the family and wished them nice holidays. Then they got back on the carriage and left.
Drea immediately snuggled Bishop, pulled him to the room their parents had prepared for them and then hurried to help her mother with lunch.
Bishop chuckled. "Such a sweet, silly woman."
He started to unpack a bit. He got his bow and warm clothes. He should go out and hunt with Karnwyr. Get some fresh meat for Drea's family, maybe even prepare some skins as well. Just a short little excursion in the nearby forest would do. So he changed and put his quiver and bow on his back, checked that his knife was still sharp and then he went to the kitchen to tell Drea he'd go hunt.
Karnwyr, who had occupied a spot near the fireplace, lifted his head.
"Come on, buddy. Let's go catch something! Can't have you get all spoiled in here!"
Karmwyr happily followed his friend. Travelling in the carriage had been fun, but he was a wolf. He needed to run and play and hunt.
When Bishop told his Drea he’d go out with Karnwyr she quickly assembled a lunchbox for him with hot tea and bread.
Bishop kissed Drea long and lovingly as he accepted the lunchbox. It was still a bit... overwhelming to be cared for like this. But he liked it.
"I'll come back as soon as Karnwyr has had his fill. Is there anything the house needs? I can bring a tasty wild boar if I find one."
After a short conversation they came to the decision that Bishop didn’t have to, but if he hunted something they could use it for saturalia dinner. Bishop noticed how proud Drea was of him.
Bishop nodded and with one more kiss on Drea's lips he left with Karnwyr.
21. Chapter 21
Being outside with only Karnwyr felt good. The area around Drea’s home was nice, the snowy hills and forest, the sky, Karnwyr’s excitement, but most of all knowing that this winter... He was not alone anymore. He wouldn’t have to turn into a beast just to keep warm and not freeze to death. No, he was packed in warmly and would return to her once his hunt was done. And it was alright not to hunt anything, too. He didn’t have to go hungry anymore when his prey got away. Because now they were together. A smile drew across his face as he made his way towards the forest.
Once in the forest, Bishop stopped momentarily and took a deep breath. He loved this crispy air in his lungs now. He gestured Karnwyr to search, and the wolf disappeared into the bushes while Bishop scanned the nearby area for any trails to follow. There were plenty of fox trails, rabbit trails and some other animals. He followed a deer. The trail seemed to be only a few hours old.
But then something caught his eye. A trail of crimson in the snow. First he thought it was just autumn flowers sticking out of the snow... but of course his ranger instincts told otherwise. He would know the color of fresh blood anywhere.
What made him follow that blood trail, if someone had asked him that in that very moment he wouldn't have had an answer to give. _ Because I just... had to. _ would seem like an excuse.
Then he heard it. A wolf's agonizing yelp. He would recognize that anywhere. For a moment his heart stopped as he feared something had happened to Karnwyr. He hurried his steps. Then another echo pierced through the forest. A man's scream. Then he heard growling, more whining.
"Karnwyr!" Bishop shouted in panic and ran towards the noises. "Karnwyr!"
But as the ranger came to the scene of slaughter, he realized it wasn't Karnwyr who had been in danger. There were two hunters lying on the snow in their own blood. And right next to them was a snow white wolf, covered in blood. Barely alive. The arrows sticking out of it made Bishop's stomach turn upside down. He didn't know why... he had done it too, many times, but this was just.... wrong. As he walked closer, he saw more wolves, both young and older ones. Dead... ready to be skinned.
"Shit.... were those two crazy? You never approach a pack during winter. It's suicide." he mumbled as he carefully crouched next to the white wolf.
_ Female, barely old enough to have her own pups. _ he thought as he inspected the beautiful creature. The wolf released a powerless snarl.
"I know... I know... don't worry. I'm not gonna hurt ya", Bishop said and carefully removed an arrow. The wolf snapped at him, and Bishop pulled back.
"I said I'm not gonna hurt you... well... okay... that must hurt, but I'm trying to save you, alright?" Of course he knew the wolf wouldn't be able to understand. He just hoped that the blood of the beast in him would allow some kind of connection. Maybe... hopefully.... or maybe not.
He worked fast. He took the arrows off, checked for any broken bones, then he took off his cloak and wrapped the animal inside it. |
6af769f94ce34d99b24ef81b61dc386b | ['49222264b3c94044859e291b6882905d'] | "This kind," Cyrus replied as his kissed Alex's neck again. And then began to kiss and lick his way down...over his clavicle...then over to his left nipple, flicking his tongue over it quickly as he grinned up at Alex, who now had his eyes closed and was panting, mouth open. Then, a trail of kisses over to the right nipple where the same was repeated. After that, it was down the stomach, pressing his lips gently as he knelt down. From there, he guided Alex so that he could sit back down on the couch, and once that was done, grinned up at him again and wagged his eyebrows before kissing the obvious erection that had formed in Alex's pants.
**********
Zach stretched his arms over his head as he came down the stairs, causing his t-shirt to rise up just a little. As he pulled it down and turned to his right, he heard the muffled voice of Alex from down the opposite hallway:
"Oh my _fucking_ God....!"
He quickly turned, automatically thinking that his friend was hurt or in trouble of some kind, and was about to make his way down that hall....until he heard Cyrus making a "shhhh!" sound and giggling, followed up by Alex moaning just a bit quieter.
Zach's eyes went wide as he stopped in mid-stride, and turned back around.
"What's up?" Jess asked as she came out of the bathroom.
"Uhhh....hey, I saw the speaker...how about we send some music to it. And turn up the volume?"
**********
It only took a few minutes for everyone to get changed and freshen up, and they rendezvoused back in the kitchen. Well. All but two of them.
"Well," Clay said as he opened the oven and put two pizzas in," these won't take too long to bake, so I'm gonna start them. What's taking Cy and Alex so long?"
"Uh...I mean, with his leg and all...takes a couple extra minutes," Zach tried to explain.
"Either that or they're messing around," Justin said, opening the refrigerator to take out the champagne. As he turned around he saw that everyone else was looking at him. "What? Oh, like we don't do this. Geez, you guys. If they want to get a quick grab in, I say let them." He went back, this time to get the Welch's.
"Young Justin...we gays do _not_ simply get a 'quick grab' in," Ryan started to explain.
"Speak for yourself," Tony interjected, causing Caleb to snicker.
"Okay!" Clay interrupted Ryan's potential comeback. "So, there's also water and soda, and we have snack stuff also while we wait for the pizzas. I put two in the oven, I think that's good to start with, they're large..."
"So are other things," Justin said with a grin as he now went to get glasses out of the cabinet.
"...AND IF WE NEED TO....we'll make a couple more," Clay finished, narrowing his eyes at Justin. "They won't take too long, so make yourselves comfortable."
After ten or so more minutes, Alex and Cyrus finally rejoined the rest, and as they came into the kitchen, conversations stopped.
"Um. Hi." Alex said. He looked _very_ relaxed. "Sorry 'bout that...we uh...."
"Alex. He....uh.....he needed....help," Cyrus said. "With his leg. Leg help."
"Which one? OW!" Justin said before his arm was smacked by Clay.
Now that they had all reassembled, champagne and juice was poured, and a toast was once more made.
"It sucks that you can't have any of the real thing," Sheri said to Clay, who shrugged in return.
"I don't mind," he said with a smile, giving her a quick kiss.
"So," Zach whispered to Alex as Cyrus went over to talk to Courtney and Caleb. "How was it?"
"Oh my God, Zach, shut up!" Alex whispered back.
"Hey, it's cool...you know you can tell me whatever."
Alex made sure Cyrus wasn't looking. "He gives _amazing_ head," he whispered again. "And that's all I'm telling you."
"Nice, bro," he said, clinking Alex's glass with his own.
"Hey, you...what's wrong," Jess said to Justin, who was looking at the contents of his glass.
"Hmm? Oh. No, nothing's wrong. I was just thinking is all. Y'know....it wasn't all that long ago that on a night like this.... I'd be, like, drunk and high by now. Really drunk, and very high. Old Justin was a real asshole. And like...I'm having such a good time with you all....and I don't need to be drunk or high. It's....kinda nice. You know? Like...you all are my friends and you don't judge me or whatever. You all like me...for me. With the other ones...Bryce and them...not you or Alex, Zach....but with them I always felt like I didn't belong when it came down to it, like I was this outsider or something. With you all....I really feel like I belong somewhere, maybe for the first time ever. It's like, I've got this great big family now with all of you, and Clay and our folks of course. Before...I mean, my mother...I guess she loved me in her own way, but there was always other....fuck, I don't know what I'm trying to say. I guess...it....it just feels....like, really good," he said with a nod. "I really, really like this. Us."
"To New Justin," Clay said, raising his glass, smiling at his brother.
"New Justin," Tony agreed, as glasses were raised once more in a toast, causing Justin to smile.
**********
It was now well after two, pizzas and various snacks like chips and cookies having been consumed. Alex kept going for more than his two allotted chocolate chip cookies, but Cyrus intercepted him each time.
"Now, you know your mother would go apeshit if she found out about this to begin with. For all she knows you're eating a salad right now," he explained as he stopped him for the third time. | 774bbf390b9648008a3543f3f3a31b93 | ['49222264b3c94044859e291b6882905d'] | _He won't stop make it stop make it stop make it stop_
Taking a step back, and breathing even heavier now, Clay balled up his right hand into a fist, and screamed.
And punched his reflection with all the force he could muster.
And the mirror broke.
He stumbled back, and looked down at his bleeding fingers.
He heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs.
He looked at the shattered mirror, and then back down at the top of his hand, which was also bleeding.
"Clay!" his father was now pounding on the door.
He looked at his hand in disbelief.
"Clay, what happened?" Justin shouted.
**********
"Okay, then."
"Okay then?" Clay asked.
Stanley nodded. "That's that." He stood up from the couch and walked over to his desk. "I'm going to prescribe something for anxiety and something for depression. Small dosages at first, and if we have to bump them up then we will."
"Wait...that's it?"
"Well, for now. I'm going to talk to your mom and dad and we're going to set up a regular schedule, twice a week. This day and time work for you in general?"
"Yeah...but...I punched a mirror."
"Yeah. Stop doing that, Clay. I want to commend you for not hurting anyone else or yourself, too badly, but all the same...stop doing that."
"Hang on. What if tomorrow I find out Monty beat someone else up at school?"
"That's not gonna happen. Well, considering this Montgomery character and the fact that he's pretty much a sociopath I wouldn't put it past him. But that's not what actually caused all of this."
"It wasn't?" Clay was now confused as he got to his feet.
"Nope. Clay, you've been cooking for months, all the way back to Hannah and the tapes. What Monty did to you was just the straw that broke the camel's back. That and one other thing." Stanley explained.
"What's the other thing?"
Stanley had rolled down his sleeves after writing out two prescriptions. "There's one thing that you had almost total control over in your life, one thing you could make sure nothing would happen to. You kept telling Justin not to fuck up...."
"....my car." Clay finished and nodded, understanding.
"That's right."
"Is...do you really think Justin will forgive me?"
"Yeah, I do. Like I said, brothers fight. But, brothers also make up. That's what they do."
Clay nodded again. "Will it....always be like this?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because, Clay. We start to get better." Stanley smiled. "I'm gonna talk to your mom and dad."
"Okay. Will....is Lulu going to come with you next time?"
"Lulu always comes with me. She's a therapy dog."
"Oh! Okay." Clay walked over to Lulu's bed. Seeing him approach, she sat up and wiggled her rear happily. He knelt down and gave her a few last scratches. "Bye, sweetie," he whispered to her.
"Ready?" Stanley asked.
"Yeah." Clay got up and walked to the door. "Hey, Stanley? Thanks."
"I'll see you in a couple of days, Clay," he replied, patting Clay's back.
He opened the door and led Clay out. Waiting for them were Matt, Lainie, and Justin. But, they had been joined by several others. As they saw Clay emerge from the inner office, Tony, Caleb, Alex, Zach, Ryan, Courtney, Jess, Sheri, Scott and Cyrus all got to their feet along with the Jensens.
Justin remained in his seat.
"Oh....um. Hi...guys," Clay said quietly.
Clay walked over to his parents. "Mom...dad....I...I punched the mirror," he said, ashamed. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry for everything. Keeping this from you, yelling like that...I apologize," he said, looking down at the floor.
"Honey," Lainie said, bringing him in for a hug. "We just want you to get better. It's just a mirror."
"I...I can still take Sheri to the Prom? Please?" he asked quietly.
Matt looked up at Stanley, who nodded his assent.
"Of course you can, Clay." Matt then took his son in for a hug of his own, something he didn't do often enough, but now resolved to correct.
"Matt? Lainie?" Stanley called them over. "So, I think twice a week for now," he began to explain, his voice trailing off as they walked into his office together.
Clay looked at the Gang.
"I'm...wow, this is difficult. I'm so sorry. I really am. I'm embarrassed and ashamed of myself."
"Clay," Tony said, walking up to him. "Your mom said it for all of us. We just want you to get better. And you're going to get better. We'll all help."
Head nods from the Gang indicated that Tony was correct. Sheri came up to Clay and hugged him. "I'm so glad you're getting help, handsome guy," she said, kissing him on the cheek.
Clay smiled at her and pulled out of the hug, and walked through them to where Justin was sitting.
"Justin?"
He looked up Clay, sadly.
"J-Justin....I'm so, so sorry. I...I didn't mean any of those things I said....I swear to God, I didn't."
Justin stood up.
"I...I know you were only trying to help...all this time..." Clay was crying now. "And...and I don't...please don't...please don't hate me...I'm _so_ sorry, I didn't mean any of it...I just...I just don't want you...to hate me..."
Justin pulled Clay to him and hugged him tightly. "I could never hate you, little brother," he said. "I love you too much for that. And I need you. Who else is gonna stop me from messing up?"
"Will...will you...come back to our room...?" Clay sobbed.
"Of course I will."
"O-okay..."
"I love you, dumbass. Very, very much."
"I..I love you too...shithead...big brother..."
The rest of the Gang came in close, and joined in the hug. And as Clay cried on Justin's shoulder, and he felt the love and support and care of his friends, he realized that maybe he didn't have to do this all by himself. Maybe he didn't have to keep things bottled up. Maybe he was the luckiest one in the room. |
d142b69d14fe4ab9bdcb4f592ea94945 | ['495a4a6240ac4473965cdc50d103a204'] | He can feel his parents’ troubled eyes on him. He closes his eyes to everything that concerns the outside world, cocooning himself, with every step, into a world of his own – a dark, chaotic, and confusing place. He closes the door behind him and leans against it, tipping his head back and trying to breathe.
_Calm down, calm down…_
It shocks him just how much he is getting riled up over this. It shocks him just how much Phil Lester has affected him - both physically, for he is unable to eat or breathe, and mentally, for he is unable to think of anything else other than him. All this without him ever being in his physical presence.
_It’s been three hours since he sent him that message._
Dan lies on his bed with his earphones in, his eyes taking on that dead and vacant look that they’ve taken on countless times, when he has lain like this, studying the ceiling. Muse blares in his ears, loud enough to make them bleed, drowning him in an angst that matches the feeling that fills his heart.
He’s stupid to think that that reply meant anything. As if this is the beginning of some fairytale romance. As if this is the beginning of anything. So, _so fucking stupid_.
His phone buzzes with a notification.
_You have a new direct message._
**_Phil Lester_ **
_Hey :)_
It hits him like a ton of bricks. Stunned, the room around him spinning, he stares at his phone.
The day did begin with a strange stir in the air. The instincts just _know_ , don’t they? Before you could even fathom what awaits you.
~*~ | 4efae770970b4e13ad9e7bb7af13ca3d | ['495a4a6240ac4473965cdc50d103a204'] | How he wishes he was that stupid teen his grandma suspects he is, and not this complicated mess, with emo songs resounding in his head and raging homosexuality coursing in his veins.
~*~
_We're going down, down in an earlier round_
_And sugar, we're going down swinging_
_I'll be your number one with a bullet_
_A loaded God complex, cock it and pull it_
Dan has quickly figured out that Dylan from Formspring is a fucking jerk with – as the _Fall Out Boy_ song blaring in his car goes – a God complex. _God_ he is such a fucking narcissist.
In the bare five minutes that they had a semblance of a conversation before Dylan started to open his fly and push Dan down to his knees, Dylan has already bragged about the scores of chicks he has banged. And this is just an ‘experimentation’.
Besides, Dan looked so much like a chick, he said as a compliment. It’s like banging any other chick.
Great song selection, Dan will give him that, while he is down on his knees, trying to cram his gangly legs in the backseat, as he blew this amazing, sweet, kind person.
“Stop. using. your. teeth! Goddamit,” hisses Dylan through his teeth, ruthlessly tightening his fingers in Dan’s hair and tugging. Dan pulls away with a muffled scream, choking now.
He’s completely red in the face, panicking, and regretting every decision that led him to this moment. So much for ‘learning’ and ‘figuring things out’. He’s currently being manhandled and treated like shit. Because he is just a fun fling, he is just a –
“Fucking fag.” spits Dylan, sitting up a little. “Why did you stop?”
“Er,” says Dan nervously, “Are we still roleplaying, or…” He has good fucking reason to be nervous. Dylan has that look in his eye. The sort of look that people who carry around a machete in their car’s trunk might have.
“I’ll roleplay your mum, fucking cunt,” says Dylan, exasperated, grabbing hold of Dan’s hair and shoving him back in.
Dan barely has the time to brace himself for the assault, before he is choking on a mouth full of Dylan.
~*~
The moment Dan gets home, he takes a long and thorough shower.
The word _whore_ tries to surface from the depths of his subconscious, but he only is laughing, replaying the events in his head with his eyes closed, shampooing his hair.
He really was lucky to get out of that car, wasn’t he?
_‘Sugar we’re going down swinging, I’ll be your number one with a bullet’_ he sings, amid bouts of chuckles.
That fucking song. That fucking song is going to be stuck in his head for a month now isn’t it. And it’ll be forever associated with this great adventure he just had. Dylan, that fucktard, he kept the song on a loop. Fucktard. It played the entire time, the entire time, absolutely ludicrously.
Dylan then proceeded to fuck him. And Dan protested. _He didn’t want to lose his virginity to this crazy loon he found on the internet._
Dan thought that was it, that was how he was going to die. He had already started to mournfully say goodbye to his poor grandma and his family in his head, when suddenly, as if through divine intervention, Dylan had an epiphany or something, and he just said, ‘You know what, you look like your pissing yourself. I’m sore anyway, it’s not going to be worth it.’
And Dan ran for his life. Well, not literally. He barely tucked everything in before getting the hell out of Dylan’s car and walking away very fast.
It was only when he reached home and got into the bathroom when he realized that his emo hair was a rat’s nest the whole time on his way back home.
Also that he was extremely lucky to get out of that car unscathed, of course.
After the shower, and after a while of trying to stifle the word _whore_ struggling its way out again, he knows just what to do.
Drown it by blaring _Muse_ in his bedroom.
He is lying on the floor of his bedroom at a precarious angle, with his feet up on the table, as he stares at the block of evening sky he can see from his window. It’s turning darker, intensifying into a turbulent pink and purple. The clouds are pink, and scattered, and fleeing across the sky.
His eyes are seemingly in a trance, and his ears hear nothing but the riffs, the beats, the music…
If his eyes tear up a little, it’s got nothing to do with anything. It’s just the good music, he reckons.
“Dan!”
His door flies open. He turns his head to see his mum standing at his doorway, looking extremely pissed.
“How many times have I told you not to play loud music? Adrian is doing his homework and you have to do this everytime, everytime!”
“How many times have I told you to knock before entering?” says Dan, rolling his eyes, turning his head back, shutting his eyes and pretending for the next few seconds that he can’t see her.
She storms in, lowers the volume, before storming back out, and shutting the door with a bang behind her.
Dan scoffs, clenches his jaws, and tries not to get up and hurl the stereo across the room or something.
He contemplates getting up and turning the volume all the way up, until it rocks through the walls and the floors, and see what happens next, see what his mum does, see if Adrian is then doing his homework. But then thinks better of it.
_It’s not worth it_ ; just like Dylan had to say about him earlier in the day.
He is reminded of something else. Something far, far better than exacting revenge or simmering in rage or whatever. No, his evening deserves to be spent in a better way. |
45888ae6a8bf46f8a75cc28afefc3cf3 | ['495ae1d2777e44d0a1345c515177f992'] | They’re broken out of it when Vanessa feels a laugh bubble up in her chest. Charity looks at her with a mixture of joy and confusion, that cute little frown that wrinkles her nose appearing on her face.
“So is that a yes to moving in together then?” Vanessa’s face is really starting to hurt from all the smiling.
“And get to have you in my bed every night?” She kisses Vanessa softly then murmurs, “Try and stop me,” then kisses her again.
Vanessa feels herself being guided backwards to perch on the edge of the barstool once again. The angle of their kissing becomes even sharper now she’s sat down and Vanessa uses the hands tangling in Charity’s hair to grip a bit firmer and pull her down to keep their mouths connected. Charity leans in to her slightly and there’s a second of confusion when her head drops slightly until Vanessa feels two strong hands cupping her thighs, just under her bum, and then she’s being picked up and placed on top of the stool. Their kissing doesn’t stop, even when Charity steps forward and wraps Vanessa's legs round her waist; she locks her ankles behind the other woman and uses them to pull the her in until she’s pressed tight against Vanessa, whimpering in to Charity’s mouth when those hands (god those hands, Vanessa has a lot of very positive feelings about Charity’s hands) grip her hips to make her grind against her stomach.
Vanessa knows where this is going, loves where this is going in fact (Charity Dingle just told her she’s in love with her and Vanessa needs to feel the other woman inside her with a ferocity she can’t quite describe) but they’re still in the middle of the pub, with the doors unlocked, the lights on and curtains open.
If only she could bring herself to care because Charity’s hands feel like they’re all over her, gripping and squeezing every bit of flesh she can, to keep them as close together as possible; it feels a bit like her girlfriends trying to check Vanessa is real, that this is really happening. It’s driving her crazy with need.
Still, she should at least make an attempt at trying to preserve their dignity.
“Charity, should we-" she mumbles against her girlfriends mouth because yeah she's trying but if anyone else knew how good it was kissing Charity they’d understand how hard it was to pull yourself away from her, “go up-" she’s cut off again by lips gently biting in to her bottom lip before it’s sucked in to Charity’s warm, wet mouth and her tongue starts to flick over it, hard and fast, just like Charity does when she goes down on her.
Oh well, who gives a fuck about dignity anyway?
She tightens her legs around Charity and lifts her hips slightly so she can grind them back down against her stomach. The fly of her jeans is sitting just right against Vanessa's crotch and the friction it provides is delicious; her hips keep moving of their own accord making her moan in to Charity’s mouth.
They’re both panting heavily because they can’t stop kissing for long enough to get air, when Charity’s hands grip the hem of her hoodie and pull upwards. They break apart to let Charity take it off of her then drop it on to the bar behind them before bring her hands back to run over newly rediscovered skin. She looks a bit overwhelmed all of a sudden, eyes searching Vanessa’s, then tilting her head forward to rest their foreheads together. Vanessa knows this pose well, it’s how Charity deals with telling her things she’s struggling to say – they’re connected and intimate and Charity doesn’t need to look at her to know she’s there.
“I thought, that was it, on Sunday you know? I was... scared Vanessa, I was so scared you were done with me.. I just. I’m sorry I’ve been such an idiot.” Charity’s voice is hushed in the quiet of the pub.
“Hey, don’t say that. I’m not done with you, you’re my idiot.” Vanessa keeps her tone light because that’s exactly how she feels.
Charity jerks her head back and tries to arrange her face in to a hurt expression but it’s not very convincing when there’s a huge smile on her face, “Oi ya cheeky mare, less of that thank you!” She kisses Vanessa softly then grows serious again. She’s looking Vanessa right in the eye when she continues, “I am, you know. Yours, I mean.”
Vanessa feels the tears well up once more (at least they’re happy tears this time) and she tries to speak but she’s too overcome with emotion.
“Oh no, babe don’t cry,” Charity’s face falls as she watches tears rolling down Vanessa’s face.
“I love you,” Vanessa manages to get it out this time, “I’m yours too. For as along as you want me Charity.” And just like that Charity’s smile lights up Vanessa’s whole world once again.
They gaze at each other for a moment and Vanessa knows she probably has the same love-struck expression on her face that Charity has – she’s so happy she feels like ringing that bloody bell again and announcing it to the world.
That is until Charity’s hands start to dance up her ribs and lowers her head to place kisses on Vanessa neck. Wet kisses trail down over her collarbone just as both Charity’s hands come up to cup her breasts – it makes Vanessa tip her head back and her eyes fall shut with her moan. | 5fc3fad7b7ec4aa395ad37e6a8b589e4 | ['495ae1d2777e44d0a1345c515177f992'] | She can feel Vanessa’s thrusts slow slightly as she lifts her head, chin shining with Charity’s essence. Her thighs are still twitching with each gentle thrust inside her when Vanessa climbs off the floor to connect their mouths in a messy, wet kiss. It’s so easy to wrap her leg up around that tiny waist, so easy to tangle her hands in to sweat dampened hair and kiss her girlfriend fiercely – tasting herself on Vanessa’s tongue, so easy to accommodate another finger as it’s eased in alongside the other two.
The next thrust inside her is definitely anything but gentle, curling to push against that rough patch inside, and it makes Charity whine wantonly because this is something Vanessa has learned about her that no one else ever has before. Charity’s helpless to do anything other than cling to her girlfriend as she fucks her. Their rhythm is hard and fast now, Charity can hear how wet she is, and she’s struggling to think; struggling to keep her hips from jerking erratically; struggling to breathe but reluctant to pull away from the tongue thrusting in to her mouth in countenance to Vanessa's fingers.
Her girlfriends thumb haphazardly strums over her clit, once, twice and she has to break away to suck in big mouthfuls of air. Vanessa’s mouth is instantly on her neck, panting heavily and in her ear.
Vanessa growls “ _mine_ ,” in her ear and then Charity’s coming, her second orgasm racing through her body like wildfire while fingers continue moving inside her. They curl forward rapidly, over and over again – pressure building inside Charity until it can’t be contained anymore – and she feels herself release all over Vanessa’s palm. The first couple of times that had happened Charity has been so mortified she nearly fled; until she started paying attention to the way Vanessa reacted to it. Her girlfriend would sigh and moan and stare up at her with something like wonder in her eyes. Just like she’s doing now. It makes Charity feel powerful in the wake of a devastatingly good orgasm.
She feels empty when Vanessa’s fingers slide out of her and when she opens her eyes she’s met with a very desperate but trying-to-hide it Vanessa. Vanessa who, still clad in the sexiest get up Charity’s ever seen, is currently straddling her hips and licking Charity off her fingers.
It really does astound her sometimes how, even after a mind blowing orgasm, this woman can get her fired right back up in a heartbeat.
There's definitely a wet patch underneath her but moving right now is out of the question because she feels totally boneless. Charity needs to make Vanessa come and she needs to do it soon. She reaches out to press her thumb against the crotch of black lace; the fabric is soaking under her fingers and she can tell there’s barely any friction.
“Take these off babe,” she demands.
Vanessa sits up on her knees, hands moving to her hips, and Charity’s a bit confused why her girlfriend’s not getting up, until fingers are pulling at ribbons on either side that she hadn’t noticed before. When both are undone Vanessa swipes the fabric away completely leaving her bare; she’s got the sexiest smirk on her face that Charity has ever seen, like she knows exactly the effect she has on her girlfriend. Charity can’t wait to wipe it off.
“Bra too,” she orders.
It's off in an instant and Charity takes a moment just to stare at her girlfriend; Vanessa in only stockings and suspender belt, so wet she’s dripping, looking like she might cry if Charity doesn’t touch her soon, is an image she wants to burn in to her memory.
Charity’s hands slide down thighs to cup behind Vanessa's knees and tug as she whispers, “Come here babe.”
Vanessa doesn’t seem to understand the intent in Charity’s motions and leans forward with her hands on either side of her head. It’s not what Charity has planned but the sight of breasts so close within reach is far too tempting a distraction to resist. She captures a hard nipple in her mouth just as her girlfriend opens her mouth to say something; whatever it was comes out as a rather loud and desperate whimper, and Vanessa grinding down on her stomach. The wet heat she feels against her makes her hands snap up to Vanessa's bum to pull her hips down harder and then the smaller woman is moaning and rutting against her.
She turns her head to briefly flick her tongue over Vanessa’s other nipple as she tucks her hands back under her thighs and pulls once more. Her girlfriend shuffles forward a few inches with a confused look on her face. Charity can tell the instant Vanessa gets what she’s trying to do as first comprehension and then insecurity flits across her face.
“Charity… are you sure? I- What if I suffocate you? What if you don’t like it?"
“Then what a way to go babe!” Charity laughs (because really if that’s how she has to go in the end then so be it!) but at her girlfriends crestfallen face she rushes to fix her mistake. “Ness, you’re not gonna hurt me babe. If you don’t want to it’s okay – I just want you to feel good, y'know? We can do something else if you want yeah?”
Vanessa stares down at for a few long seconds and then the last question registers in her mind, “Me not like it? What you talking about babe?” Charity’s pretty sure anyone looking at the confused look on her face would call it comical because why on earth would Vanessa think she doesn’t want to do that? “It's not like I’ve not gone down on you before Ness.” |
235898ef7cd643d696f78b881df7a5ac | ['496ac8fec26e4d47af0aeab8aa75cbeb'] | She sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. "Thanks," She tried to smile at the bar tender as he gave her her drink, but she was still fuming. She sat for 15 minutes drinking two full drinks, and eventually turned around to watch the people on the dance floor. She watched mindlessly for about 5 minutes until she saw a girl dancing with a boy and let her eyes land on them. The girl seemed to be having fun and enjoying the music, letting it take over her body. But then she saw the boy put his hands on the girls boobs and the girl looked pissed but also terrified. "Don't," Cameron saw the girl say as she put his hands back on her waist. He whispered something in her ear and put his hands back on her boobs. "Stop!" the girl said again, trying to pull away. Cameron got up and started making her way towards them. "Listen dude, she obviously doesn't fucking want you to touch her there. That is rape culture. Get the fuck off of her." Cameron said, her feminist side was apparently very strong tonight. "I wasn't going to rape her, what the fuck I would never do that, I thought she wanted to be touched." He said. "Well maybe you should fucking ask next time, and even after she said not to do that you did it again, that is rape culture. Learn what consent is next time." Cameron finished and turned to the girl. "That's not what rape is," The guy said. "Any kind of sexual activity that wasn't consented, is rape. Next time ask the girl." Cameron said and walked away, taking the girl with her. Once they reached the bar Cameron turned to her, "Are you okay?" She asked. "Yeah, I am. Thank you," The girl said. "Are you here alone?" Cameron asked. "Um, no. I'm with some girlfriends over there." She said pointing. "You'll be safe with them? Do you want to go home now, do you need a ride?" Cameron was just trying to be nice. "I um, no I'll be okay. One of my girlfriends can take me home, thank you. Um, what's your name?" The girl smiled. "Cameron." She smiled back. Then a girl came up to her. "Bailey, come over here with us," she said. "Oh, um bye Cameron, thank you," She said as she was pulled off, she watched for a few minutes to make sure she was okay, and once she was sure she was, Cameron walked off to find Jake and Railyn. She found them off to the side, Railyn with another drink in her hand, Jake's arm wrapped around her safely. "Could you take me home, Jake?" Cameron asked. "Yeah, of course. Let's go," He said.
Once Cameron had gotten home and was showered and lied in bed, she opened her laptop and started a tv show on netflix and pulled out her phone. She first checked her twitter account, the one that she used for her music, the "professional" one, the one that was verified. After checking that one, she went to her fan account. She loved having an account dedicated to her boyfriend. Liam followed her and he always thought it was hilarious when she would fangirl with the fans, none of them knew it was her either, which made it even more hilarious. After talking to a few fans she then went onto her last account, which was a feminist account. She checked her mentions, her account was pretty big because people knew it was her, so she had a lot of mentions. She noticed a lot of people tagging her in the same tweet over and over again so she clicked on it. "A guy at this bar was trying to grab my boobs& a girl named cameron came up& yelled at him about consent &rape culture, sweet grl" the tweet had been sent from LA and most of the replies that tagged me in it said "wonder if its at//////" Cameron quickly retweeted Bailey's tweet. "glad to help :)" she replied to it. She got lots of favs and retweets almost immediately, which she was used to since all 3 of her twitter accounts were pretty big. "thank you tons xxx." Bailey replied once more and followed Cameron's account. | b939fa7dfd2f4d0ab96792f0ca5db8e3 | ['496ac8fec26e4d47af0aeab8aa75cbeb'] | He started making the two hour journey to Brighton Pier. 40 minutes into the drive, he reached over, turning the music he was listening to down, as he called Harry. "Hello?" he answered. "Um, Harry?" Louis asked who it was. "Hi yeah, its me," he said and Louis smiled. "I just wanted to let you know I'm going to the Brighton Pier right now, I'll be there in probably an hour, I uh wasn't having any inspiration to work so I thought I'd come here," he said. "Oh okay, what time will you be home?" Harry asked. "Well its what, only half past 9...um, I'm not sure I'll call you when I'm leaving, ok?" he said trying to figure out the math but giving up. "Okay, yeah, I love you Lou," Harry said. "I love you too," Louis responded and they hung up. Louis was a bit relieved that Harry was himself again but he was still upset that Harry had to live with this awful disease and he tried not to think about it as he drove.
Louis parked the car and hopped out. He walked down the pier a bit, to where there weren't any people. He leaned against the railing and watched the ocean hit the rocks for a few minutes, the wind blowing his fringe into his eyes. He grabbed the railing and put one leg over, resting his foot on the edge of the ground, and slowly brought the other one over as well. He faced the water and held on to the railing tightly, and slowly leaned out above the water. After a few minutes of just that, his hands were hurting and he slowly brought himself in and over the railing. He sat down and put his feet over the edge of the pier and rested his head and hands on the lower bar of the railing and he stared at the ocean til he fell asleep, just like that. (A/N: just so you know louis was not going to kill himself, he wasn't even thinking about it, he just wanted to be closer to the water)
Louis woke up with the weight of something on his shoulder. He sleepily turned his head to the right only to be met with hair. (A/N: normally i would change that so it sounds better but its too funny) "Harry?" Louis says. "Hi, love." Harry lifted his head off of Lou's shoulder. "What are you doing here?" Louis asks. "I know when something is up Lou, i could tell you weren't happy." Louis just turned and looked out at the ocean. He heard Harry softly laugh. "Louis you have a red print on your face from sleeping on a pole," They both started laughing.
It was quiet for a few minutes after as they both just watched the waves. Louis reached over and put his right hand on Harry's left knee, where both of his legs were also dangling off the edge of the pier. "Lou, whats wrong?" Harry asked quietly with a concerned face. "I.. I just don't want you to have live like this Harry," He sighed. "Like what? with you?" "No, no, god no. Of course i want you to live with me and be with me, i mean, i don't want you to have to live as 3 different people, its unhealthy harry," Louis said. Harry didn't respond. "Harry when you're Ethan you threaten to kill yourself all the time, and it scares me because i know Ethan would go through with it. And when you're Logan i just, miss you. We need to at least get rid of Ethan, he is destroying you Harry, I just want you to be you /all/ the time." "I don't want to get help Lou, they'll just put me in a psych ward," Harry whined. "They can't do that against your will Harry," "They can if they think I'm going to kill myself," "Harry i don't want to lose you. You're gay but when you're ethan you're homophobic, how does that even make sense? And when you're logan you wear makeup and dresses and there's nothing wrong with that but it's not you, don't you want to be Harry all the time?" "Of course I do, but MPD isn't even treatable, they will keep me in a psych ward my whole life Lou, i don't want to live like that," Harry was getting angry. "They will at least treat Ethan's depression, they can help with that, maybe you can at least get rid of Ethan," Louis was just trying to convince harry at this point. "This is bullshit, they cant fix me Louis! Nothing can!" he yelled. "Harry.. please cant you just please talk to someone, just talk to a doctor.." Louis holds in tears. "I am afraid I'm going to lose you," he lets the tears fall. |
d1edf48f6ce249f3972c8b16acd3ce5d | ['497227df21cf49408355172932623b25'] |
1. Canapé
**Author's Note:**
> Oh, jeez, that summary... ahHh. Sorry this took so long! I've had the first chapter written for a loooong time, but only just got the chance to go back and edit it all last night. But, the main story for this 'verse can finally get underway, now!
>
> This'll go through all of season one of Hannibal, and from there... I'm not sure, honestly. I'll be basing it mostly off the original scripts for the show, with edits as I see fit to add them.
>
> Thank you for your interest and I hope you enjoy!
The lecture hall was never packed when Loki chose to visit, but he always managed to hide in the crowd of trainees, entirely unnoticed. He sat with his elbow resting on the desk before him, chin perched on his fist. Loki watched as Will talked, barely noting the gruesome scenes displayed by the projector. He barely heard the Midgardian’s words, carefully watching his face and movements.
Will had a far-away look in his eyes that intrigued Loki, as he recounted the details of the case in a serious tone. Loki barely stopped himself from reaching out and taking a peek inside Will’s mind, just to see what he was thinking about as he lectured. The god’s slight smile became a smirk.
Finally, Will seemed to come back to himself, looking at the trainees gathered around him. His gaze drifted over Loki, and the god barely restrained a snicker. The Midgardian immediately looked right in his direction with a frown. Will shook his head and let out a barely audible sigh, gesturing back to the screen as more images of the gruesome murder were displayed.
“Now think about killing Mrs. Marlow,” he said, voice monotone but clear in the silence of the room. He continued, “Why did she deserve this? Tell me your design. Tell me who you are.”
With that, Will turned and switched off the projector, signaling the end of the lecture. Around Loki, the various trainees stood and began filing out, talking quietly among themselves. The god remained seated, watching them with a bored expression.
Loki’s smirk returned as he stood gracefully, stretching slightly He walked purposefully over to Will’s podium, green eyes flashing as he leaned against it.
“Professor,” he started, only to be interrupted.
“Loki, didn’t we have a talk about you sneaking into my lectures?” he deadpanned.
“We did,” the god agreed, “but I never said I wouldn’t come watch you work.” His grin returned, as he added, “I find I learn a lot in your classes. Midgardians truly can be cruel to each other.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Will said, rolling his eyes. “But I’d prefer it if you didn’t sneak in. Says some _unfortunate_ things about the building’s security that you haven’t been caught yet.”
Before Loki could respond, he paused as he took note of another Midgardian entering the room. A weathered-looking man was approaching the podium, looking at the pair curiously. Will rushed to adjust his glasses, busying himself with the papers piled atop his podium. Loki looked to the newcomer in mild interest.
“Mr. Graham,” the man called as he approached. He met Loki’s eyes and blinked in surprise. “Ah, am I interrupting?” Loki shook his head.
Will did not respond, gathering his notes and blatantly ignoring the other Midgardian. The newcomer looked to Loki again, and the god shrugged.
“He’s not in the mood,” Loki explained. “What do you want?”
“I’m afraid it’s very important that I speak with him,” the other Midgardian said. Again, Loki shrugged, and the man sighed almost in frustration.
The newcomer turned to Will and started, “I’m Special Agent Jack Crawford. I lead the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”
“We’ve met,” Will cut in. Crawford nodded, smiling tightly.
“Yes,” he said, amused, “we had a disagreement about the museum when we opened it.”
“I disagreed with what you named it,” the other man insisted.
“The Evil Minds Research Museum?”
“I think I agree with Will,” Loki interrupted. Crawford looked at him, unimpressed.
“Friend of yours?” he asked, eyeing Will.
“You could say that,” Will muttered drily, finishing putting away his notes.
Loki plastered a false, warm smile on his face and extended a hand to Crawford, nodding.
“Agent Lukas Strand,” he lied smoothly. “I’m an old friend of Will’s, here for a visit. It’s a pleasure.” Loki gently and discreetly soothed the skepticism he could feel coming from the Midgardian. Will gaped at him, then scowled, but did nothing to correct the god.
“Ah, well,” said Crawford. “Do you often attend Will’s lectures, Strand?”
“Every now and then,” Loki admitted with a slight shrug. “But you didn’t answer my earlier question: what do you want?”
“I just want to talk.” Crawford gave Loki a pointed look. “In private.”
The god almost laughed, rolling his eyes as he prodded at the agent’s mind, soothing the discomfort at Loki’s presence. Will sighed in frustration, and Crawford blinked in a mix of surprise and confusion.
“I won’t be a bother,” Loki said smoothly, smiling warmly, “I promise. But, anything you have to say to Will, you can surely say while I’m here.” He carefully ignored looking in Will’s direction, but could easily feel the glare being sent his way.
Crawford paused, giving Loki a calculating look, but nodded at another gentle prod at his mind. He turned away from the god, talking quietly with Will as Loki pretended not to eavesdrop.
The two’s conversation proved to be far less interesting than Loki had assumed it would be, the god barely avoiding rolling his eyes. He stopped paying attention early on, only to look back curiously a moment later.
“But you can emphasize with narcissists and psychopaths,” Crawford was saying, and Loki looked at Will out of the corner of his eye. He’d learned early on of the Midgardian’s ability, but had yet to learn any details beyond the most basic of information. | 7d1f267a290340bfbadae284b99a6005 | ['497227df21cf49408355172932623b25'] | Crawford and Will were closer together now, Will making timid, almost bored eye contact with the other man. In the entire month Loki had spent with the Midgardian, he had never managed that feat, and narrowed his eyes at the pair.
“I can emphasize with anyone,” Will said. “It has less to do with personality disorders than an active imagination.”
Crawford smiled. “Can I borrow your imagination?”
Will had only just nodded when Loki interjected, “I’m coming along as well.”
Immediately, the older man shook his head, frowning as he said, “No, Strand. I appreciate the offer, but I only need Will.”
Loki forced a smile as he poked and prodded at the man’s mind. Just as Crawford was made to accept Loki’s presence, Will spoke up.
“It’s fine, Jack,” he said. “If you turn him down he’ll just find some way to follow us anyway. You may as well save us both he trouble.” Crawford looked at them contemplatively for a moment, then sighed and nodded.
“Alright,” Crawford agreed, “if you say so. Just follow me; we have no time to waste.” With that, he turned and walked briskly out of the lecture hall.
Will slung his bag over his shoulder and began following the other man. Loki moved to walk just behind him, but stopped when the other whirled on him.
“What the hell are you doing?” Will hissed.
“I just want to help!” Loki insisted, feigning offense. “Why, I’m appalled you would assume I have ulterior motives!”
“You’ve told me many times how you can tolerate no one on Midgard,” the other replied drily, “and that I’m only an exception because you’re _forced_ to put up with me. Pardon me for not thinking you’ve had a sudden change of heart.”
Loki smirked, patting Will’s shoulder and laughing, “You know me so well after only a month? I’m flattered.”
“So why-“
“Truthfully, I’m curious,” Loki interrupted, shrugging. “Whatever Crawford wants you for, it’s bound to be far more interesting than just staying in your home all day.”
Will stared at him, then sighed resignedly, “Alright, fine, I see I can’t stop you.” He adjusted his glasses, moving them down the bridge of his nose.
Loki brightened, patting Will’s shoulder again as he said brightly, “Excellent! Now, let’s not keep Crawford waiting, shall we?” He sauntered quickly out of the lecture hall, Will following behind at a more sedate pace.
As they walked across the academy grounds, Loki listened in as Crawford described the case to Will.
“Eight girls from eight different Minnesota campuses,” he said, “abducted in the last eight months.”
“I read about this one,” Will commented. “I thought there were seven.”
“There were,” Crawford replied.
“When was the eighth reported?” Loki asked, pointedly trying not to be left out of the discussion.
“About three minutes before I walked into Will’s lecture hall,” Crawford answered.
“And you’re calling them ‘abductions’ because you have no bodies?” Will asked.
“We have _nothing_ ,” Crawford explained. “No bodies, no parts of bodies, nothing that comes out of bodies. We have lonely swabs in used evidence kits.
“Then they weren’t taken from where you think they were,” Will said at the same moment that Loki said, “Either your team’s incompetent or you’re searching the wrong area.”
“My team _knows_ what they’re doing,” the man retorted, looking at Will. “And where _were_ they taken from, then?”
“I don’t know, someplace else,” Will said. Loki snorted, then held up his hands defensively when Will sent him a sharp look.
In Crawford’s office on the other side of the academy, an impressive bulletin board had already been set up. Seven pictures of seven young girls were pinned to it, with string connecting them to various places on a map. Loki surveyed each picture, noting the many similarities. Save for slight differences in their facial features, the girls were nearly identical.
After a moment, Will stepped past him and reached up, pinning a new picture to the board. Like all the others, she was a petite brunette with bright eyes, smiling gently for the camera. She was Elise Nichols, Crawford had said. The girl had been missing only a few days, never having made it home to housesit for her parents and watch their cat. Belatedly, Loki listened in on the conversation happening nearby as he studied the pictures.
“It’s not about all of these girls,” he heard Will explain. “It’s about one of them.”
Will turned his back to the board and crossed his arms. He continued, “He’s like Willy Wonka. Every girl he takes is a candy bar. Hidden amongst all those candy bars is the one, true, intended victim, which, if we follow through on the metaphor, would be the Golden Ticket.”
“The question here is whether he’s warming up for his Golden Ticket,” Crawford murmured, “or reliving whatever he already did to her.”
“Should we assume the ‘Golden Ticket’ is already dead?” Loki asked. Will shook his head.
“Golden Ticket wouldn’t be the first taken,” he explained, “and she wouldn’t be the last, either. He’ll hide how special she is. I mean, I would. Wouldn’t you?”
“I suppose so…”
“I’d like you to get closer to this,” Crawford cut in, looking pointedly at Will. He nodded in Loki’s direction, adding, “You could even bring Agent Strand with you, if you wanted.”
“You have Heimlich at Harvard and Bloom at Georgetown,” Will replied drily. “They do the same thing I do, and you have plenty of other agents. You don’t need either of us.”
“Now, Will, I think this is worth looking into,” Loki said. He reached out with his mind, probing gently at Will’s own, and barely restrained a smile when he was met with a sharp glare in response. Crawford watched them, bemused.
“Whether it’s worth it or not doesn’t matter,” Will shot back. “They have plenty of other options; I’m not going back into the field.” |
14af374ec12041bf932e71692a789b5d | ['49786e88c68a488e9cf7d13f073683fb'] | So, not only was he used like some sort of breeding horse, he was marked as well.
Oh, there'd be hell to pay.
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Wow! Thanks very much for giving this fic a chance and reading/commenting/leaving kudos XDDD
On the train ride back to Nagano, the air was tense and awkward, the armrest between them serving like some sort of unbreachable wall.
Eijun's nose stung with unshed tears; he felt flooded with too many emotions.
He'd always had an irregular heat cycle: it could be counted on that he _wouldn't_ get it on schedule as opposed to Wakana's menstrual cycle which was always on point like clockwork. He got it so rarely that heat suppressant pills had never been necessary.
But when it would finally deign to hit him, sometimes it was like an anvil walloping his whole body, wracking him with too much pheromones than he knew how to deal with, made him feel as though a geyser was constantly erupting from between his legs – to the point that Wakana had bought him special phallic toys just so he could occupy himself during this period while she took care of running the farm.
And then there were the times when it didn't seem like he was in heat at all: trickling down in minuscule droplets that made it seem like any other given non-heat day.
Their plan for their family had been simple: each of them would get pregnant, at least one child each. They had been saving up for a consultation at the local family planning agency, prepared to do it the properly sanctioned way, figuring that with Eijun's cycle the way it was, it would be Wakana who would undergo the pregnancy first.
But then, Eijun suddenly went into heat.
And the prospect of having a child sooner than planned was too tempting to ignore. They figured this was a chance to finally get this part of their plan out of the way, even if it was rather irresponsible.
And so they dropped everything, leaving the farm to Eijun's parents and grandfather for an impromptu trip to the city.
While it would've worked out best for everyone if they had waited and did things properly, they were young and impatient, consumed too much with the desire to really get their family underway. As well, where they lived, Eijun did not grow up surrounded by other Alphas or Omegas other than his immediate family, and so he was not as well-educated in the ways as he should have been. For example: the concept of marking and what exactly it entailed. Having never actually gone into the family planning agency, he didn't know that one of the reasons the wait for a compatible Alpha could be long and arduous was that the consultants would require searching the national database for Alphas who were available, eligible, and most importantly, willing to be donors, and then interviewing the candidates that best met the requirements. And then, as sometimes would (un)fortunately happen, there was the usual result of the chosen Alpha becoming exclusive to that Omega, owing to the fact that sometimes in the throes of mating, the two would mark each other. And mutual marking in and of itself could prove to be a less breakable bond than an officially registered marriage, and so that Alpha would become part of the family.
Then, there was the unfortunate fact that with Betas, not having to worry about heat and knotting, could have children willy-nilly regardless of single or married status. With some children resulting from one-night stands (according to a few romance manga Eijun had read), it seemed to them to be the likeliest scenario of getting pregnant so long as he stayed in heat and the Alpha knotted him during coitus.
And so, their not-really-well-thought-out plan turned out, for the most part, okay, and went thusly:
_Go to Tokyo where there is a higher chance of finding an Alpha because there certainly isn't any in Nagano: check._
_Have sex with the Alpha: check._
_Hope that Eijun's heat isn't being wishy-washy enough to actually get said Alpha to knot: check._
_Get knotted during intercourse: check._
_Get pregnant in the process: likely_.
But it was all the other things that was now making their not-really-well-thought-out plan...well, not really all that well thought-out.
Like the fact that, even with Wakana's blessing, Eijun had, for all intents and purposes, cheated on her.
That even with the cheating – however deemed somewhat acceptable in this situation – being part of their plan, it was turning out to be an emotional roller-coaster. He could barely hold the guilt in check: coiling around his stomach and setting his nerves on end. And that wasn't even the worst of it. Because that wasn't the only thing that was making him feel twisted up in conflict. _Would it have been better if she had been present during the thing?_ he couldn't help wondering, then flushed, remembering how he'd been like during _it_...
The fact that he _enjoyed_ it. Being with a man, that was. Especially being on the receiving end of a man. Even if it was with a different hole, he kind of experienced what Wakana went through during sex— _heavy_ on the "kind of". He didn't really have to do much of the movements—not that he minded doing a lot of the moving when he was with Wakana—but it was still all pretty new and exciting and different.
And oh was it different. That Miyuki was so much different from the toys was a given: he was real and intense and smelled so good and pounded Eijun into the mattress in a manner that Eijun never thought he wanted until the moment it was happening. Eijun simply felt as though Miyuki had completed him in such a way that he'd never felt before. And that left Eijun craving for more and wishing he hadn't had to leave so soon. | 6c66842d925b4dfd89dc406d72529bcb | ['49786e88c68a488e9cf7d13f073683fb'] | Having never done this before, at least with a man, his body trembled. The moans that issued from him sounded different: more needy, hoarse, higher, louder. They were strangers so there was an awkwardness in their touches, and he couldn't help the comparisons that were running through his mind. Miyuki's lips weren't as soft. His hands were rough, more calloused, his skin wasn't as smooth, and the curves and planes of his body were different from what Eijun was used to. For the first time, it was Eijun who'd had to tilt his head back simply to meet someone's lips in a kiss. For the first time, it was him who'd had to spread his thighs and feel someone enter him, making him feel as though he was being hollowed out even as he was being filled.
Lost in the throes, he clutched at Miyuki, legs coiled around his hips, fingers entangled in his hair, teeth biting his shoulder, marking him.
Lost in the throes, Eijun couldn't even begin to imagine just what that last act could mean. He was too enthralled at the way his body accommodated Miyuki, the ebb and break of their movements, the weight of Miyuki's kiss and hands, the sound of his voice; that part inside of Eijun that Miyuki kept grazing with each thrust.
Even as he came, spilling streams of white fluid over both their stomachs, he couldn't help but clutch at Miyuki, feeling breathless, wanting to move away from him and at the same time pull him closer. Brows furrowed, he couldn't help letting out a loud moan of pain as he felt himself being further stretched out, in disbelief as he felt as though Miyuki seemed to grow even larger inside him, making Eijun feel all the more opened, all the more spread and speared.
It felt as though it lasted for hours, but for all Eijun knew, only mere seconds passed. _Was this what "knotting" was?_ he idly wondered. If so, then mission accomplished: what he came here for was achieved, then, wasn't it?
* * *
It was when the sky was beginning to lighten with the coming sun that Eijun finally made his way back to his hotel room, backside smarting from the night's activities it had undergone.
He found Wakana in bed, asleep, with dried tear-tracks down her cheeks. His heart scrunching inside his chest at the sight, tentatively he sat down at the edge of the bed, flinching a bit as his butt touched the mattress, hand reaching out to stroke Wakana's hair.
Before his touch could land, her eyes opened, and he found himself hesitating, unsure if she would welcome him after what he'd just done.
"Welcome back," she whispered, reaching up and cupping his hand, pulling it down to lean against her cheek, and he felt his chest swell.
"I'm home," he said, voice tremulous and eyes watering.
He watched her throat work as she thought of what to say next, her other hand reaching out to touch his chest, feeling the nervous beat of his heart. Trailing her hand down to his stomach, his abdominals jumped at her touch, and he almost wanted to move away, feeling ashamed, even though they both wanted this.
"Well, then?" she finally managed, softly, expectantly.
Eijun closed his eyes and nodded, entangling his other hand with hers over his stomach.
"We're going to have a baby," he said.
* * *
When his Omega parent was still alive, he used to tell Kazuya about how his parents used to grumble about times changing too much too soon. It wasn't that long ago that Alphas and Omegas formed nuclear families, following through as biology dictated, the Omegas succumbing to the call of their heat cycles as is—none of these heat control pills, which therefore led to people having more sexual freedom, and then choosing to be with Betas instead of with Alphas as nature supposedly intended.
Kazuya, who was born an Alpha, didn't really mind so much. Anyone could love whoever they wanted, regardless of whether they were Alpha or Beta or Omega. An Alpha being with a Beta or an Omega being with a Beta simply meant they didn't have to worry about having unwanted children too soon; all they would really need to worry about were STDs, which could still unfortunately be shared between the three.
And then, of course, there was still the biological incompatibility between Alphas or Omegas with Betas when it came to having children. The Betas developed artificial insemination for themselves when a Beta couple couldn't have children. An Omega and a Beta together, however, required the actual assistance of an Alpha during intercourse since it was the enzymes excreted from an Alpha's knot that enabled impregnation to happen during an Omega's heat.
Now, in this day and age where love between the three were as free as they didn't used to be, agencies had been set up so that Omega and Beta couples or Alpha and Beta couples could find someone who would be willing donors for them when they wanted to start their families. Kazuya even had some acquaintances who worked in such agencies. It wasn't unheard of, though, that most couples skip going through the agencies as the process of finding someone compatible could be rather arduous and lengthy.
Kazuya had heard of Alphas who had become unwitting and unwilling parents due to impatient couples.
And now Kazuya found himself joining the club.
Kazuya just knew – as he sat up, head groggy and body still tingling, noting how the other side of the bed was conspicuously empty and cold – that something he hadn't intended to happen actually occurred. Rising and walking over to the adjoining bathroom, grabbing his glasses from the end table along the way, he peered at his reflection in the mirror and inspected the prickling wound on his shoulder.
His nostrils flared as he exhaled deeply. |
fe89f4b5ad7a422ab58f3530d48f7593 | ['4978ea9872d1448dac45878fbfc920dc'] | “Don't lie. I can _feel_ your irritation. It's a bit like a pleasant humming to me.”
This was the sentence that pushed Irene out of her mind. She'd been patient before because, well, she was attracted by the man for once, and also because she had had the feeling she could withdraw some interesting information from him. But this crappy speech on empathy or whatever was a bit too much to handle.
“You know what ?” she spat to him. “You make me thing of some man I knew. He was just like you, all mystery and cheekbones, wearing a dramatically swirling black coat like you're wearing your sunglasses. Desperately trying to appear aloof and cold whereas in the end he was as soft in the inside, as anyone else. It was a bit pathetic.”
She bit her lips at the end of her speech, regretting her unwise words. Sure, this sweaty bar in Florida was a long way from London, but the consulting detective had now quite a reputation, even across the Atlantic, and the last thing she needed was her name to be linked back to his, not after the incident in Karachi. But her description provoked no reaction. Crowley merely asked her “And what did you do to this man ?”
“I took his coat.” Irene shrugged. “Well- he had to land it to me because I was naked.”
“You took his coat wearing nothing under it ?” Crowley repeated with a smirk. “So in a way, you wanted to emasculate him.”
“I hadn't considered it like that, but yeah, maybe I did.” Irene answered, which had the man laughing.
“You're more interesting than I originally thought.” He eventually told her. “M' sorry I'm not better company tonight.”
“What's your excuse then ?” Irene asked him, sipping what was left of her drink. Crowley's smirk faltered.
“I'm not even sure exactly. There's just this someone I miss I guess.” he declared quietly, which earned him a kick and a disapproving glare from Irene.
“What was that for ?”
She rolled her eyes.
“I'm afraid you're becoming _cliché._ Is that it, your sweetheart is gone and you're all sad ?”
“I certainly wouldn't dare to call Aziraphale like that. He would kill me in my sleep.” Crowley frowned. This lead Irene to two conclusion- a) the man was probably gay, which meant her failure was less humiliating than she originally thought and b) his likely-boyfriend must have had very cruel newwage parents. Before she had time to answer anything, the bar door suddenly opened to reveal a forty-ish man with curly-blond hair and a tartan shirt. Crowley's face instantly lightened.
“Speak of the devil...”
The man noticed them immediately, and walked to their spot decidedly. By the time he arrived there, Crowely's stance was - he was no longer slumped on the counter and grinning stupidly, but sitting straight on his tool with a blank face, only betrayed by the light flush on his cheeks. The transformation was so sudden Irene wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't been there to witness it.
“You do realize this is not London, right ?” Crowley asked him confidently as soon as he was standing next to them. This must be the man he had been moping over.
“I'm quite aware of it, dear.” the blond- Azirapahe according to all evidence- answered, putting a hand on Crowley's shoulder as he took a quick look at him. He didn't seem at all fooled by his cool demeanor.
“So what are you doing so far from home, then ?”The one with the sunglasses asked with a cocky grin.
“No idea.” Aziraphale answered absentmindedly. “I was a bit bored in England actually, and so I thought that maybe..”
“You should come all the way to see me ? You missed me, admit it” Crowley said it in so confident a tone that Irene was driven by the urge to remind him what he had told her not five minutes ago, but the blond didn't leave her the time.
“As if I would confess that to you.” he huffed, carefully rearranging Crowely's sunglasses so that they wouldn't fall from his nose. Irene was feeling more and more as an uncomfortable third wheel, which she wasn't all to happy with. Maybe it was the right moment to introduce herself.
“I'm Irene, by the way.” she told the blond as she extended her hand to him. From the way he looked at her with blinking eyes, she could tell he hadn't noticed her at all.
“I'm sorry, how rude of me;” he answered as he shook her hand. “My name is Aziraphale.”
His smile seemed genuine, but Irene couldn't help but notice his gaze on her didn't linger more than necessary- not interested, then. But since the man looked as gay as a maypole, she wasn't all that ashamed. Crowley on the other hand was frowning extra hard at her, possibly because she had diverted Aziraphale's attention from him.
“Did you realize the last time we've seen each other was not six months ago ?” he asked the blond suddenly, shifting so that he could lean toward him.
“I know.” Aziraphale replied quietly, his hand still on Crowley's shoulder.
“We used to spend decades without seeing each other, do you remember ?”
Irene rose her eyebrows at that- had Sunglasses-man such a taste for over-dramatizing, or had the two known each other since kindergarten ?- and Aziraphale frowned, mumbling in Crowley's ear something along “We've got company dear.”
“Don't worry about her, I think I've enough compromising information to blackmail her if needed.”
He was bluffing of course-even if he had understood who she was talking about earlier, that wasn't nearly enough to seriously threaten her-, but it chilled her anyway.
“Do not even _consider_ this.” she gritted between her teeth.
“No one is going to do anything.” Aziraphale assured her,. “Are you, Crowley ?” | 1c7a8d98ac124f67b6e25d3ae069f122 | ['4978ea9872d1448dac45878fbfc920dc'] |
1. Boney
**Author's Note:**
> I rewatched Gone Girl with my parents two weeks ago, and I still can't quite figure out why Nick and his relationship to women - except Andy, I don't care about Andy - is so important to me. Go figure.
> Here is my attempt at putting these feels into words. And at voicing Boney and Go, whom I adore with all my heart.
> Sorry for the typos, blatant mistakes and such.
* * *
She is the woman that doesn't know him at all.
She learns the existence of Nick Dunne at the worst possible moment – the disappearance of his wife and the beginning of an investigation that leads towards him pretty much from the start.
Little does she know at the time she is going to end up caught in his orbit, a powerless onlooker in the grand story of _Nick and_ _Amy_.
She soon realizes she does not know where she stands with Nick, which is worrying in itself. She has always prided herself on being the strong, rational kind of cop, the one who does not not have preconceived opinion of her case and let the element talk for themselves. Somehow Nick gets under her skin, makes her feel more involved than usual. The comments of Gill about her having a _crush_ bothers her to no end . Even if he says it jokingly, it still implies she is being unprofessional because of her emotions _._ As a female cop, she has already heard it all, thank you very much. Furthermore she truly cannot understand _why_ she feels so enthralled by Nick Dunne. At first glance, he is the sort of guy she would hate – he is handsome in an asshole-ish way, a bit like the athlete stars in high school. At second glance it's even worse – he doesn't look at all like he cares or even knows his wife and he tends to get aggressive when cornered.
Still there is something appealing in the clumsiness hidden behind his charming king prom persona – or maybe it's just another disguise - and she can't figure out why.
She tells herself it's the whole mess is caught into that intrigues her, really. Saying that if a case is too easy then something is amiss probably sounds like a cheap line from _CSI_ , but it often proves to be true. Here the evidences are coming too quickly, too handily. The way everything collapses under Nick borders on the surreal. And there are too many details that don't quite pile up.
When Amy spectacularly turns up, exhausted and dripping in blood but _alive,_ Boney is deeply satisfied. Mostly because it proves her initial inch was the good one – Nick Dunne has not murdered his wife. She refrains to tell Gill _I told you so._ She is better than that.
And then it feels like Christmas, because every part of the case that didn't fit feel more off than ever, and new ones keeps popping. Nick's side of the story suddenly doesn't that sound that surreal.
Boney has almost been fooled that first time by the good wife's tale. She is not going to fall for that again.Managing to frame your husband for murder is impressive, but managing to do that _and then_ turning it into a case of kidnapping by a high school sweetheart requires a level of craftiness even Amy Eliott Dunne does not have. Unfortunately, Boney is the only one thinking so. And if there is one place where being right against the rest of the world is pointless, it's in the police force. It means no support from your colleagues, no budget. It means no case. She will try to keep up the happy couple in check, but that's pretty much everything she can do.
Giving up feels wrong for numerous reasons but it's not like she has any other options available. Provided he doesn't do anything stupid, Nick will live. So will his son.
All things considered, it's already a feat.
2. Go
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sorry for the delay, I had to write a friggin short story about concrete for my school and it sucked all the writing energy out of me...
* * *
She is the woman that knows him best.
At least, that's what she thinks until the _whole suspected of murder slash banging his college student on the side_ thing. But before that, she has never doubted it for a second. Sure, Amy has been Nick's wife for five years now, has lived with him for even longer. But they are not usual siblings – they're twins. There is a lot of mystical mumbo-jumbo about twins, on which she mostly scoffs about, but she would not deny that twins are something of their own. Moreover twins who had to go through all kind of shit when they were young – a lousy father, cursory glances from their school pals who thought they were banging for some reason. They used to rant about all these things at great length back in the days.
Today still, she is the first one he comes to when he wants to complain about Amy.
Go has never liked Amy Elliott – too snobby, too cold. Truth be told, she is not entirely sure what kind of woman would fit his brother, but she knows Amy's not the deal. She keeps her objections – mostly- to herself. It already took him so much time to introduce the two of them.
But then the happy couple had to move back to Carthage, and Go is the prime witness of the irrevocable downfall of their marriage. There are many evenings he falls asleep on the bar mid-rant about Amy. He always looks unhappy when Go wakes him up and tell him to go home. If at this point complaining about blondie is not fair game, then she does not know when it will be. She can't help but be relieved that her darling brother finally realized that this woman was not the right one for him. The problem is that he seems to take his sweet time letting her go she can't figure out why and for the life of her. Sure she did not realize, at the time the precarious financial situation he was in. Still, at least he was lucid about the whole thing.
What's worrying now, as Amy is safely back home and the dust has only just begun to settle down, is that he seems to think that he should maintain the facade. That there is a bond not to be severed between him and his harpy of a wife. She used to think that the way Nick explained that Amy challenged him was bullshit, the kind of crap married people claimed in order to comfort the idea they had to be together. But it turns out he actually believes it, now more than ever. He sincerely thinks that her wife sharpens his mind, ups his game. Except that the stakes already weren't worth the hassle when it was them maintaining the perfect couple in facade back in New York. It certainly is not worth it now it's about whom will crush the other one. How is that not obvious to Nick is what throws Go aback.
He is the one that walks away, in the end. Sure, Amy comes back, sure the media and the cops stand for her, but they could still backpedal and show her hell. Shit, they managed to dismantle her first evil scheme, what is stopping them from doing it again ? Nick _chooses_ not to, and this is what truly crushes Go – it is his decision, no matter what he keeps repeating himself to sleep at night. She has no alternative but to let him go.
It's fucking painful, but if she has learned one thing from this whole crappy thing, is that denying someone the right to choose his own path is the worst. |
98e15d410a1845ec92aa8479d396ea5a | ['4986e71b48ef421d8a92f5f49776f6d7'] | Marinette sighed. “You’re right, Tikki. So what do we do?”
“Like I said, we have to go see the Great Guardian. He’ll be able to get Plagg out of the Cat Miraculous, and I’m sure he’ll have invaluable advice on what to do.”
“That sounds good.” Marinette fingered the small silver ring. “What happens if I put this on?”
“Don’t do it!” Tikki yelled, suddenly looking very worried. “It’s incredibly dangerous to wear the Ladybug and Cat Miraculouses at the same time. Terrible things could happen!”
Marinette looked down at Tikki. “What sorts of terrible things?”
Tikki sighed. “Why do you think Hawkmoth wants these two Miraculouses so badly?”
Marinette thought for a minute. “You mean, he wants to trigger these terrible things?”
“Exactly. Now come on, Marinette, we can’t waste any time!”
“Should I transform?”
“No, you don’t want to draw any attention just yet. We’ll have to take the Métro.”
Marinette ran down the stairs with Tikki in her bag, gave each of her parents a goodbye kiss, and rushed out the front door.
“Hey Nino, do you know where Marinette is today?” Lila asked.
Nino shook his head. “Adrien’s not here either.”
“They do this a lot, don’t they,” Lila sighed.
“All the time,” Nino replied knowingly. “You’re still new; you’ll get used to it.”
“And you’re sure they aren’t in a relationship with each other?”
“Dude, have you ever seen them together? Marinette can barely get out a single word. No, they’re not in a relationship.”
Lila nodded. “Okay, that’s what I needed to know.”
“What do you mean, what you needed to know?”
“Never mind,” Lila said with a flick of her hand. “Anyway, it’s time to go to class.”
Lila and Nino walked up the stairs and along the balcony to the classroom.
“Huh, it looks different today,” Lila commented. “Why is that?”
“What do you mean?”
“The lighting inside. It’s more orange. And is it getting brighter?”
“Hey, you’re right. I wonder why that is.”
Lila realized what was going on mere seconds in advance. “Nino, get down!” she yelled, tackling Nino and knocking him flat on the balcony.
The classroom exploded. The door was blown off its hinges and went flying across the courtyard, as a cloud of smoke, fire, and debris billowed out of the doorway.
The train was very crowded; Marinette barely even had any room to stand. She noticed that the conversation in the crowd around her sounded much more lively than usual.
“But do you know where he came from?” one person was asking.
“I was there on the Champs-Élysées,” another was explaining excitedly. “And I saw him fly right into the explosion…he didn’t hesitate at all. And then he flew out seconds later, carrying four children—two in each arm! Not a scratch on any of them!
“He saved my son,” a man at the other end of the traincar was explaining through tears. “I owe everything to him.”
“Wow,” Tikki piped up from Marinette’s bag. “This person’s certainly gotten a lot done in a very short time.”
“But is it genuine?” Marinette wondered. “Remember, we’ve dealt with illusions before.”
“You’re about to miss your stop,” Tikki pointed out.
Marinette gasped and jumped out the doors just before they closed. And a few transfers later, she walked up the stairs into a quiet and unwelcoming neighborhood.
“Do you remember which building is his?” Tikki asked as they looked down a long, straight street that seemed uncannily empty. The end of the street seemed to be concealed by mist, so Marinette had no idea how far it stretched; perhaps it just went on forever. This neighborhood always creeped her out.
“The second one on the right,” Marinette guessed.
Tikki nodded. “You really are quite the lucky one.”
And Marinette walked towards the small painted wooden door.
Her phone rang from her bag. Marinette picked up the phone and saw that the call was from her mother.
“Hello?” Marinette said worriedly. Her mother almost never called during school hours.
“Marinette, thank goodness!” her mother responded frantically. “Are you all right?”
“Um…yes, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, I’m so relieved. I heard about the explosion, and I feared for the worst.”
“Explosion?” Marinette asked, her eyes wide.
“You mean you don’t know about it?” Marinette’s mother asked incredulously. “You are at school, right?”
“Oh, um…of course I’m at school!” Marinette stammered. “I was just getting out of the bathroom.” She paused a moment. “I think, um…it sounds like they’re calling out names. I have to get off the phone. Don’t worry, I’m perfectly safe. I’ll come home if they let us out early.” Before her mother could say anything else, Marinette hung up the phone. “Tikki, the Great Guardian will have to wait…I’ve got to step in.”
“Marinette, wait!” Tikki interjected. “What if it’s a trap?”
Marinette clenched her fists. “My friends are in danger. I don’t care if it’s a trap or not, I owe it to them to do whatever I can. Tikki, spots on!”
As Tikki flew in and entered her earrings, Marinette found herself surrounded by a burst of glowing light. A tingling sensation spread from her ears across her face and down all her limbs, and she found herself being wrapped in a spotted red outfit. A round yoyo appeared at her hip.
And Ladybug swung away over the streets of Paris.
Nino coughed, looking up toward the destroyed classroom. The explosion had certainly been dramatic. It hadn’t just blown out the door; it had also knocked down a large section of the room’s front wall. Nino tried to think about who had been inside there.
Out of the smoke flew a caped figure, carrying two people. He set them down right next to where Lila and Nino were lying.
“You’ll be all right,” the figure said reassuringly. “How many others were in there?”
“There were five of us,” the smaller of the two people said. “Us, Max, Rose, and Juleka.” | 48b25a463b8448db87f45645d52e849b | ['4986e71b48ef421d8a92f5f49776f6d7'] | “Well, there are a lot of things,” Marinette pondered. “He’s very strong, very fast, and very durable, and he can fly—”
“Come on, Marinette!” Tikki interrupted. “That applies to plenty of akumatized people. None of those make him stand out.”
Marinette tried again. “He doesn’t appear at first to be doing anything evil?”
“Still not original,” Tikki responded. “We’ve seen that before, too.”
“He showed up at my school, specifically?”
“Of course he’d show up at your school, since he’s—” Tikki’s eyes widened and she covered her mouth. “Never mind. But that’s still not it.”
Marinette groaned. “Why are you two talking to me in riddles?”
“Because true understanding comes from within,” Master Fu replied. “Those who are presented with bowls of soup do not thereby know how to cook for themselves.”
“I think I’ve got it,” Marinette tried. “It’s that he always manages to show up at the site of the disasters, in time to save everybody, as if he knows about them before they happen.”
“That’s certainly interesting,” Tikki acknowledged. “You’re on the right track.”
“Well, what I really can’t figure out is why people trust him. In a matter of hours, he’s amassed a reputation even greater than mine as Ladybug, and I can’t figure out why they aren’t asking the same questions I’m asking.”
“Bingo!” Tikki cheered. “You’ve got it! Now, what did Chat Noir want, when you last saw him?”
“He wanted…oh my gosh,” Marinette breathed. “It all fits. That’s the Paragon’s power. The people who see his acts of heroism become his followers.”
“So now do you have a true understanding?” Master Fu asked.
Marinette nodded. “I think I know how I need to approach him. But I have to avoid the disaster sites, don’t I? Because if I see him saving anybody, I’ll fall under his spell.”
“Now that you understand, I believe you’ve brought something here for me?” Master Fu asked.
“Oh, yes!” Marinette remembered. She held out the silver ring.
Master Fu took the ring and held it in front of his face, examining it closely. “Good work, Marinette,” he acknowledged.
“That was me, actually,” Tikki interjected.
Master Fu nodded in approval. “Then good work, Tikki. I believe a friend of yours is inside here.”
“Can you get him out of there?” Tikki asked.
“Of course,” Master Fu said with a smile. He stood up and walked over to a shelf where an old record player sat. Pushing a few buttons, the top of the record player swung upwards, and an octagonal box emerged from inside. Master Fu took the box and set it in the middle of the floor.
Marinette examined the box. It had seven small compartments in it—two in the center, clearly symbolizing yin and yang, and five surrounding the center two. Each compartment was decorated with a small circular symbol. Yin had the familiar symbol of the ladybug, and yang had the paw print of Chat Noir.
Two other small objects were in the box—one was a necklace that resembled the tail of a fox, and the other was a hair pin that had the stripes of a bee.
“What are those?” Marinette asked, pointing at the two unfamiliar objects.
“Those are for another time,” Master Fu replied, placing the ring in its compartment. Leaving the lid of the box open, he reached his hands out and moved them around the box, with his eyes closed.
“How long is this going to take?” Marinette asked.
“Silence, please,” Master Fu snapped. “It will take longer depending on how many times I get distracted.”
Marinette nodded and sat quietly as Master Fu began his ritual.
The person waiting outside the door drew back and approached the window, carefully easing in a metal hook and drawing back one piece of the wooden blinds. Perfect. Now there was just barely enough to see into the room. There was the old man on the floor with the box, the girl watching him, and the opened record player on the other side of the room.
Banging a gong with a mallet, Master Fu stood up. “Come out, Plagg.”
A small black creature flew out of the ring and coughed, hovering above the box. “Wow, I’m tired,” the creature whined. “What happened?”
“Who are you?” Marinette asked.
The creature turned. “Hi, I’m Plagg. I can tell by your wide eyes that you’ve already succumbed to my charm and charisma. Oh hey, Tikki.”
Tikki flew forward and grabbed Plagg in a hug. “Hello, Plagg!” she exclaimed happily. “It’s so good to see you.”
After a few seconds, Plagg wriggled free of Tikki’s grasp. “Wow, I’m famished. Anybody got anything I can eat?”
Marinette felt around in her bag. “Tikki, do we have any of those cookies left?”
“Cookies? Eww!” Plagg responded. “I’m sorry, but my tastes are far too refined and elegant for such simple foods.”
“He only eats cheese,” Master Fu explained. “Preferably camembert. I’d suggest picking some up as soon as you get the chance. I hope you aren’t bothered by the smell.”
“Not at all!” Marinette replied. “I like the smell!”
Master Fu raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“There’s this boy she has a crush on who always smells faintly of camembert for some reason,” Tikki explained. “The smell reminds her of him.”
Now Master Fu was raising both eyebrows. “And who is this boy?”
“Tikki, shush!” Marinette exclaimed. “We’re keeping that on the down low, remember? He’s nobody you’d know, Master Fu. He just goes to my school.”
Tikki flashed Master Fu a wink, but said nothing.
“Hey, guys, not to be rude or anything, but I have no idea what’s going on,” Plagg pointed out. “Why am I here?”
“Basically, Chat Noir’s been akumatized, and we’re going to need your help to get him back to his normal self,” Marinette explained.
Plagg groaned. “That Agreste kid is so weak.”
“What did you say?” Marinette asked.
“Er, I—” Plagg stuttered. “I haven’t rested all week.” |
7428485c04d14a0684cab3d294ea8c07 | ['499fd17e6fdb480790412cc9c65f6039'] | At that very moment something very large and solid slammed into the lawn before the trio, throwing up a shower of dirt and grass clumps. It wasn't hard to recognize Udyr even behind all the bumps and bruises he'd received during the fight, which had apparently all taken place while the Animal Spirit was asleep, judging from the loud snore that floated up to them now that he'd come to rest.
Caitlyn stared down at Udyr for a few moments, then her head snapped up to watch for what would surely be after him. “I see,” she began to undo the straps on her back-mounted rifle holster. “Care to see my hat trick, Vi?”
“Do I?” Vi grinned. “Do my fists smash major criminal face?” she slammed one metallic fist into another to punctuate her point.
“Right,” Caitlyn swung the rifle and holster off of her shoulder as a pile of fallen trees on the far side of the park exploded from something striking it at high speed. “This is definitely one you haven't seen, so do pay attention.”
As Caitlyn anticipated, Twisted Fate burst through the pile of logs and briefly searched for Udyr before finding the Animal Spirit in his crater and rushing toward him.
Caitlyn dropped her rifle and holster to the ground and put a hand on her hat.
“Cupcake!” Vi stared down at the rifle in shock and then looked back up at Caitlyn. “ _What are you doing?!_ ”
“Just watch,” Caitlyn removed her hat and got into position between Twisted Fate and Udyr.
At exactly the right moment, just as Twisted Fate was about to pass her, Caitlyn thumped her own hat onto his head. She managed to let go before the momentum could carry her along with Twisted Fate, though it did cause her to pirouette on the spot a few times.
Twisted Fate went limp as the hat was put onto his head, and he toppled head over heels into the crater to land on top of Udyr, Caitlyn's hat still miraculously attached to his head.
“Well, that's done,” Caitlyn put her hands to her hips and looked down into the crater. “Are you _quite_ finished now, Fate?”
A pained groan was all she got in reply as Twisted Fate regained consciousness.
Vi burst into loud laughter. “A literal hat trick!” she chortled as she slid down the side of the crater to stand next to Twisted Fate. “So how's it hangin’, _Stretch_?” Vi asked, using her annoying nickname for Twisted Fate as she leaned in close to his face.
“Stop calling me that,” Twisted Fate grumbled, feeling too tired to actually snap at Vi. He attempted to get up and failed as Caitlyn joined them at the bottom of the crater. “It hurts to exist,” he said finally, after trying to get up again.
Caitlyn stepped forward and dragged Twisted Fate over to the side of the crater where he might be more comfortable. “So why _did_ Udyr knock your hat off?”
“He got drunk,” Twisted Fate scowled at Udyr, who was still snoring away while everyone else moved around him. “Because _Graves_ insulted his manhood for not bein’ able to take alcohol,” he added, rolling his eyes in annoyance when he said the word “Graves”.
“That's good,” Caitlyn took Twisted Fate by the back of his coat collar and began to drag him out of the crater. “At least you won't be paying for the damages,” she glanced over at Vi. “Could you be a dear and bring my rifle over, Vi?”
Vi paused, having been caught in the act of tying knots in Udyr's beard. “Sure thing, Cupadupcake!” she straightened and threw Caitlyn a mock salute before scaling the side of the crater herself. The rifle and its holster were just where they'd been left earlier, and Vi scooped them up and tossed them to Caitlyn in one smooth movement.
“ _Bring_ ,” Caitlyn nagged as she caught the rifle in one hand. “I said _bring_ , not _throw_.”
“Yeah yeah,” Vi flapped a hand at Caitlyn. “You still got it, right?”
“And don't pester Udyr anymore,” Caitlyn added as Vi's attention returned to the prone body of the Animal Spirit. “He’s not going to be happy when he wakes up, so I suggest you drop whatever other pranks you're considering for him.”
Vi let out a loud sigh of annoyance. “Fine fine, I’ll leave the big hairy beastie alone,” she turned and cast a sidelong glance at the ruined rec hall, “I’ll just see about digging Hecarim out, heh heh.” The Enforcer threw Caitlyn and Twisted Fate a short wave as she began to sidle around the crater, “Later Cupcake, see ya Stretch!”
“I hate that name,” Twisted Fate growled as Caitlyn continued to drag him off.
“It's better than Cupcake,” Caitlyn quipped.
“So... Where are you taking me?”
“To a doctor,” Caitlyn replied.
Twisted Fate choked on the very air he was breathing and would have run if he weren't still unable to move. One experience with Dr. Rath had been more than enough to make him irrationally afraid of all doctors for the rest of his life. “I’m fine I don't need to see a doctor!”
“Yes, you do,” Caitlyn continued to drag Twisted Fate in the general direction of the Institute's clinic, in spite of his pleas. “You need to be treated, and you need to realize that not all doctors are insane and evil and get over that fear of yours.”
Twisted Fate was about to reply when Caitlyn stopped.
“Sheriff Caitlyn,” Karma gave Caitlyn a warm smile as she paused before the markswoman and leaned to her right to get a look at Twisted Fate. “I see that you have Twisted Fate under control.” | ae0291703ee24618aaf3cabc1e05ec4f | ['499fd17e6fdb480790412cc9c65f6039'] | “Dammit!” Graves scowled up at Syndra and struggled to sit up. That last attack left him in pretty rough shape and _now_ that stupid Syndra chick was here, this evening was just getting worse and worse.
Before Syndra could make any annoying demands of Graves—such as asking that he make her a sandwich—she was startled as the building shook again and grabbed Graves to hold in front of herself. “Save me, minion!”
“Save you!? How 'bout savin' _me_!?” Graves spluttered, not at all eager to be on the receiving end of such brutality again.
“You’re my minion, it’s your _job_ to protect me!”
“So is this a new thing with him?” Olaf got to his feet and swatted away the voidling that was trying to eat his nose in retaliation for landing on Malzahar. “The whole goes-berserk-when-hat-gets-knocked-off thing?”
“Yeah it’s new,” Graves tried to edge away from Syndra, only to find that the Dark Sovereign had a firm grip on his arm.
The dust from the demolished wall began to settle, revealing a very angry hatless Twisted Fate as he stood blocking the hole. Most of the champions present knew from experience that Twisted Fate was extremely dangerous in this state, but Syndra let out a quiet chuckle as she rose from the table and floated toward him.
“That's just the shrimpy card games guy, he's not scary,” she conjured a sphere of dark purple energy between her palms as she cast a pitying glance over her shoulder. “Silly minion.”
“Yeah have at it, I'm outta here,” Graves mumbled, too eager to escape to get mad over Syndra looking down on him again. He scrambled toward the edge of the table as Syndra prepared to attack.
It was easy to aim with Twisted Fate just standing there in the hole. He made a wonderfully easy target, since his attention was apparently elsewhere, in the direction Udyr had been thrown earlier. Syndra used this distraction to her advantage and hurled the ball of energy at Twisted Fate with a short laugh.
The ball should've knocked Twisted Fate flying. Should have. His head snapped around at the sound of Syndra's laugh and—much to the shock of Syndra and everyone else in the room—he caught the sphere in his hands. Its momentum pushed him back a few feet, but he remained standing, ball of purple energy clenched tightly in front of him. With a near-silent growl he pulled back, energy ball in one hand now, and hurled it at Syndra's head.
Syndra shrieked and dove to the floor, narrowly avoiding being pegged in the face by one of her own magical spheres. She looked up to find that Twisted Fate was now stomping toward her and began to panic.
“Minion!” she shrieked.
“Don’t you dare!” Graves yelled as Syndra’s purple magic enveloped his body.
“Save meeee!” Syndra hurled Graves at the approaching enemy.
“DAMN YOU SYNDRA!” Graves watched as Twisted Fate pulled back a fist to punch him out of the air and braced himself for impact. The fist hit him in the gut and launched him through the hole in the wall that Syndra’s sphere had created.
Syndra's face paled as she realized that she'd just thrown her one and only minion away. They were so hard to come by, too. “Minion noooo!” Syndra howled. She whirled and sped after Graves, hoping to catch him before he slammed into any more solid objects.
Zed's head snapped up again, and this time he spotted Twisted Fate, who was still advancing on the group. “D’n worry guysh I got dis,” he slurred, then disappeared in a burst of shadow and reappeared directly before Twisted Fate. The ninja made a drunken swipe at Fate, missed, spun around in a full circle from the momentum of his swing, and managed to stay on his feet when he came to a stop.
Twisted Fate snarled, completely unamused by Zed’s antics, and backhanded him into the nearest table.
The force of the blow made the table snap in two when Zed landed on it. He remained motionless for a few seconds, then twitched as he regained consciousness. “What happened? I blacked out during book one,” he coughed, and something rattled around behind his face guard. Zed turned over to hide his face as he grappled with whatever had gotten under his mask, and finally came up with a small chittering voidling. “The hell?!” his head immediately turned toward Malzahar. “What the hell did you put in my drink Malzahar?”
Malzahar had gotten out from under Olaf by this time and floated a few feet above the ground, legs folded tailor style and arms crossed over his chest. “Just a couple dozen voidling eggs, it's not like they're bad for you,” he shrugged as he spoke, trying to split his attention between Zed, who might attack him for the insult, and Twisted Fate, who had again stopped moving but would certainly attack him sooner or later.
“How dare you make me a nursery for your creepy little pets!” Zed surged forward and caught Malzahar's scarf in one hand. “You claim the Void is so terrifying, but I’ll show you _real_ terror,” he growled, arm-mounted blade edging dangerously close to Malzahar's face.
“Seen it,” Malzahar stated, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Twisted Fate was again looking toward where Hecarim would be. Hopefully the Card Master would stomp off in that direction rather than trashing everyone else in the room, as long as Hecarim didn't run away like a little pansy first.
“Scarier than your stupid pets!” Zed snapped.
“I know. I mean that,” Malzahar pointed at Twisted Fate, who had spotted something moving on the far side of the hole in the wall and was fixating on it. |
8e5bd62cceed40879ac0c10e74845b47 | ['49dffca051ce45d9ac22cacea12ffee5'] |
The Day You Never Saw
“So…” Vex panted, putting her bow back over her shoulder and staring at the now-dead guards before them. “You’re saying your old mentor managed to blast us to the nearest concentration of magic, is that it, then?”
“It’s probably not what he intended.” Dorian replied, examining their surroundings.
“Last thing I remember, we were in the castle hall.” Kerah replied.
Vex had seen a lot of things. She had done a lot of things. She had traveled through doorways magically made in trees, she had become mist more than once, she had been to and returned from the Feywild, she’d even died and come back from it.
Somehow none of that compared to the bizarre sensation that had come with being sucked through an arcane rift and blasted who knew exactly where, to be met by an attack from a small number of guards and an incessant red glow from… Something around them.
“Let’s see… If we’re still in the castle, _it_ isn’t. Ah! Of course. It’s not simply _where_. It’s _when!_ ”
“I’m sorry, what?” Vex blinked, staring at Dorian.
“Alexius used the amulet as a focus! It moved us through time.”
“Did we go forward in time, or back?” Kerah asked, using the key she’d found to unlock the cell door keeping them locked in. “And how far?”
“Those are excellent questions. We’ll have to find out won’t we? Let’s look around, see where the rift took us. Then we can figure out how to get back.” Dorian paused. “ _If_ we can.”
“What was Alexius trying to do?” Vex asked, wishing she wasn’t up to her calves in water.
“I believe his original plan was to remove the Herald from time completely. If that happened, she would never have been at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, or ruined his Elder One’s plan. I think your surprise in the castle hall made him reckless. He tossed us into the rift before he was ready, I counted it. The magic went wild, and here we are. Make sense?”
“No.” Vex shook her head. “But if it does to you, then we can get out, at least.”
“There were others in the hall. Could they have been brought through the rift?”
Kerah’s question made Vex look to Dorian, alarm crashing over her.
“Yes, my brother was there. Where is he?”
“I can’t rightly say. I doubt it was large enough to bring the whole room through. Besides, Alexius wouldn’t want to risk catching himself and Felix in it. They’re probably still where and when we left them.”
“Good.” Vex nodded. “That’s… That’s good, right?”
“Let’s hope so.” Dorian said, giving a nod in her direction. “Shall we carry on then?”
“You have a plan to get us back, I hope? Kerah asked.
“I have some thoughts on that,” Dorian replied, starting off and gesturing them to follow. “They’re lovely thoughts. Like little jewels.”
They splashed their way out of the dungeon, Vex fiddling with Raven’s Slumber at her neck, debating whether or not to bring Trinket out. After having to squeeze over some rubble in tighter quarters than she’d anticipated, she decided against it. Instead, she brought up the rear, keeping eyes and ears open.
“Hang on.” She said after a few moments and several staircases and turns. “There’s something this way, someone moving in the water. Breathing.”
“I don’t hear anything.” Dorian said, a bit incredulous.
“You’re a magister. I’m a hunter.” She replied, gesturing down a hall. “It was that way.”
Kerah moved in the direction she gestured and, after a moment, Dorian followed with the same air of incredulity that he had taken on when she’d pointed out a noise in the first place.
When they found the source, Vex almost wished they hadn’t.
The elven mage they’d spoken to before, Fiona, was in a cell, and she appeared… stuck to the menacing red material. Or was it… growing out of her?
“You’re… alive…” The woman rasped out as they approached. “How? I saw you… disappear… into the rift…”
“Is that…” Kerah approached the bars, placing a hand on one as she leaned forward. “Red lyrium growing from your body? How?”
“The longer you’re near it…. eventually, you become this… Then they mine your corpse for more.”
Vex felt nausea rise in her, but she forced it down. Gods, that was vile on so many levels…
“Can you tell us the date?” Dorian joined Kerah at the bars. “It’s very important.”
“Harvestmere. Nine… Forty-two dragon.”
“Forty-two?” Vex turned to Kerah. “We left in forty-one, didn’t we!?”
“We’ve missed an entire year.” Dorian confirmed, shock overtaking his features.
“We have to get out of here, go back in time.” Kerah glanced at her companions, voice firm.
“Please… Stop this from happening.” Fiona spoke in the same exhausted voice, but there was an urgency to it now. “Alexius serves the Elder One… More powerful than The Maker… No one challenges him and lives.”
_How did you become more powerful than a God?_ Vex wondered, thinking of the gods she knew, of paladins and clerics, of Pike and her own brother. It just didn’t seem possible.
“I’ve never fought a God before.” Kerah quipped, one corner of her mouth lifting.
“Should be memorable.” Vex added with a nod.
“Our only hope is to find the amulet that Alexius used to send us here…” Dorian was obviously preoccupied in thought, he almost seemed to be speaking to himself as he planned. “If it still exists, I can use it to re-open the rift at the exact spot we left.”
“Good…” Fiona slumped against the wall, eyes closed.
“I said ‘maybe’.”
“There’s really no need to remind us that we might be stuck in this future, Dorian.” Vex said, her voice a tease that walked a sharp, poison edge.
“All I’m saying is that it might turn us into paste!” He shrugged. “I’ve always endeavored to be honest.” | de061791d8e14f4e9f18a1898f78565a | ['49dffca051ce45d9ac22cacea12ffee5'] | “I say we need all the help we can get, Firecracker,” The dwarf, apparently Varric, spoke first. “I’ve seen similar gangs of misfits work miracles. Been part of one of those gangs.”
“I agree. It would be unwise to turn down help where it is offered, and our ambassador has been forging plenty of connections that we could use to aid in the payment this group would require.” Solas was now casually leaning on his staff, the same enigmatic smile on his face.
“I am not so certain.” Cassandra said, lips pursed and eyes narrowed, looking over the group. “Who are all of you, what can you do? Speak for yourselves, please, and be quick.”
There was a pause before Percy spoke again.
“As stated, I am Percy. I specialize in objects of my own design, mainly those that are explosive in nature.”
From there, it was natural to go through the group in the rough line they’d formed into.
“Vax’ildan. I’ve got daggers.” He shrugged.
“Vex’ahlia. Quick with a bow and quite deadly, with a little help from my friend here.” She patted Trinket and gave the group before them a wink.
“Scanlan Shorthalt, Kingslayer and bard extraordinaire.” This earned him a bemused smile from Kerah, the expression laced with confusion.
“Pike Trickfoot. I’m a healer and… Well, not bad with a mace.” She gave a modest shrug.
“Grog Strongjaw. Just point me to where there’s killin’ to do.”
“I suppose that leaves me. I’m Keyleth, a druid of the Air Ashari, skilled in elemental magics.”
Introductions ended and Cassandra looked to Kerah once more.
“In the end, Herald, this is your decision.”
Kerah nodded and held out a hand to Vex.
“Welcome to the Inquisition, Vox Machina. I imagine you have things in the city you need to gather. We’ll be leaving before sundown. Meet us at the city gate and you can join us on the trip back to Haven, and we can discuss payment then.”
“A pleasure.” Vex shook her hand firmly.
“We should proceed,” Solas said, “Those in Val Royeaux will be waiting.”
The four members of the Inquisition departed and there was a moment’s pause before the group exploded into noise.
“Did you _see_ her?” Grog was first to speak, looking at Scanlan, “Holy shit!”
“She’s quite something, I had no idea fire was that sexy.”
Keyleth rolled her eyes before turning to Vex.
“Are you sure this is a good idea? We have no idea what the Inquisition really wants, it could be worse than the hole in the sky.”
“The hole that is regularly expelling demons and causing smaller rifts to spread?” Percy interjected, not unkindly. “I doubt that very much, but… It is worth questioning the motives of such an organization, I admit.”
“We’ll just be doing what we’re doing right now, won’t we? Killing demons for money. Just for considerably _more_ money.”
“My sister does have a point…” Vax rubbed the back of his neck. “I propose this: We join this Inquisition for now. Keep killing demons, try to zip up the holes in the world. We work out a payment plan so, if things go to shit with this Inquisition, we can bail out and still make something out of it.”
“I want to go with that mage.” Grog said, finally realizing there was another conversation going on. “No, seriously. Did you see her?”
“It… doesn’t seem like a bad idea.” Pike had one arm across her body, elbow resting in its palm and tapping one finger against her lips with her other hand as she considered. “Solving the problem here at the source will keep Taldorei safe as well as Thedas. We can do more good here than we could at home, and it’s not like we could carry on with the trip as planned with the state of things.”
“Right, all true, but consider: We just got done running across everywhere to kill four ancient dragons!” Scanlan shrugged, his arms wide and palms up, “Who knows what else the hole in the sky is going to shit out! It’s not our job, is it? Emon, Westrun, those were cities we knew. This place… We’re visiting. That’s it. We could just book it back home. Done.”
“And find more demons waiting for us there?” Percy arched a brow at him.
“So? We’re obviously able to kill the things.”
“Why not kill the big thing they’re coming out of?” Grog looked up at the flashing green tear in the distant sky.
“Smart thinking, Big Man.” Vax nodded to him.
“That and there’s money in it, Scanlan. And probably women. You could always try with that woman…. What was her name? Cassandra?” Vex laughed a little. “She reminded me of Kima.”
“Glad it wasn’t just me.” Vax smirked at his twin.
“She’s… Well, yes, she is a fine specimen, I won’t deny that…” Scanlan thought for a moment, before sighing. “Alright. Alright. Off we go to kill the hole in the sky and probably all die trying.”
“We’re helping people, Scanlan.” Pike rested a hand on his shoulder briefly before starting to prod around the bodies of the demons for anything useful.
Scanlan watched her, and Vax saw him mouth ‘Shit’. Scanlan would do anything to make her happy, and they all knew it.
“Nothing much,” Pike reported after a moment. “Shall we go back?”
They returned to the inn they’d found, a small establishment on the very outskirts of the city. While they certainly enjoyed the finery of the capital, they didn’t want to spend the gold to stay smack in the center of it. Vex had loudly said there wasn’t enough gold in the world to stay with people that obnoxiously rich. |
d9e298b0bde44ce0b2a2054c93a8d243 | ['49e86bd7876040a1bd15d5f9154dc7cb'] | He opened his mouth letting out a small sigh and cupped her face.
“I want,” he said. “So much. But I don’t want you to feel obliged to do anything.”
“I won’t,” she promised and leaned forward to kiss him. Petyr parted his lips and let her set the pace. Sansa smiled against his mouth and caressed the tip of his tongue. She felt him shiver, and her smile broadened.
When she pulled away, he swallowed, looking at her as if she were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“Sansa.” His voice was filled with longing. He caressed her hair, and she closed her eyes. “Sansa. I need you to talk to me, alright? I need you to tell me how you’re feeling, what you want in every moment, what scares you or makes you uncomfortable. I want this to be a good experience.”
She opened her eyes and nodded. He smiled and continued caressing her head.
“Do you know what’s the best way to dispel the nerves? To make them go away?”
“What’s the best way, my lord?”
He moved his other hand to her waist, and his eyes shone mischievously.
“To laugh, sweetling. Laughter dispel the nerves and keep them at bay. And you know? I’m determined to make you laugh tonight.”
“Oh, is it so, my lord? And how do you intend to do it?”
He tilted his head, feigning seriousness, and his hand started moving up and down.
“Well, I’m a resource man, sweetling. I could use different tactics. People say I have a way with words, and certainly I could use that to my advantage right now.” He smirked. “Or I could make funny faces. It would be a less refined tactic, but it might work.”
Sansa bit back a laugh.
“Yes, it might work.”
He looked pleased with her answer and continued:
“But I’m also a wicked man, sweetling, and wicked men don’t play fair.”
“What do you…? She couldn’t finish her sentence because his hand started tickling her ribs. “Petyr!” She laughed and laughed until her sides ached, and Petyr observed her delighted.
When she calmed again, he hugged her, and she sighed contently.
“Thank you,” she said when she pulled away.
He kissed her sweetly.
“No need to thank me, sweetling. I love the sound of your laughter.”
She smiled. They remained in silence for a little while, staring into each other’s eyes, until Petyr asked softly:
“What thoughts are crossing your mind now?”
“I’d like us to undress,” she told him.
“Alright.” He caressed her cheek, his expression tender.
“But you need to know something first.”
“Of course. You can tell me anything, love.”
Sansa breathed deeply.
“I have several scars across my belly and my legs.”
His expression didn’t change. He waited for her to continue, but when she didn’t, he asked:
“Does the idea of me seeing your scars make you uncomfortable? Do you fear that I might feel disgusted?”
She took a moment to reflect on his question. She’d pictured the moment when he would see her bare several times in her mind, and that had made her heart flutter in anticipation, but until then she hadn’t wanted to think of the fact that he would also see her scars.
“I think the answer is yes,” she said finally.
He let out his breath and pressed his lips to her forehead. The kiss made her feel warm inside and helped assuage her doubts. When he looked her in the eye again, he spoke vehemently:
“Thank you for telling me. I can imagine it hasn’t been easy to say it aloud. But you don’t have to fear my reaction, Sansa, I swear. I might feel anger or pain when thinking of the things you had to endure, but never disgust. Please, you must believe me.”
“I believe you.” She cupped his face and kissed him once more. The kiss become more urgent, as their tongues explored each other, and his hands moved to her back when she pressed herself against him. Soon she felt his erection, and it didn’t repulse her. Quite the contrary. Heat spread across her lower body, and she started to feel a wetness between her legs.
They helped undress each other and lay on the bed, and Petyr kissed every scar of her body, one by one, slowly, tenderly. He met her eyes often, gauging her reaction, and she smiled at him every time.
“Petyr.” She sat up when he finished and traced his scar with her fingertips. A hint of vulnerability came into his eyes, and something tied around her throat when she noticed it. It was also the first time he showed her his scar, the physical reminder of when he was a boy who dreamed of heroes and songs, who fancied himself prince of fireflies. They had that in common. They weren’t very different when they were younger, and Sansa wondered what if they’d met back then. What if she had been of his age, and their paths had crossed before they discovered that life wasn’t a song. She would never know. What she knew was they had been granted an opportunity to be happy, and she was willing to take it. She caressed his cheek, and he leaned into the touch. “Petyr. We won.”
He opened his eyes and moved his head to kiss her wrist. Sansa giggled when his facial hair tickled her skin.
“That tickles.”
Petyr’s eyes shone with amusement. She lay down again and he peppered kisses along her jaw, her neck and her belly, making her shiver and laugh at the same time. The wicked expression appeared on his face again.
“I told you I could use different tactics to make you laugh, sweetling.”
“You haven’t made funny faces yet,” she replied breathless.
He moved his eyebrows up and down quickly, and Sansa giggled. She would have never imagined that she could feel this relaxed.
“Thank you,” she whispered. | 972297f337de4ce685f135deb5fc2394 | ['49e86bd7876040a1bd15d5f9154dc7cb'] | Sansa obeyed. The room was so large that she couldn't see the back. Tables, computers and grey metallic wardrobes spread out across the place.
“I feel a little dizzy.”
“That's a normal reaction and it should go away soon. Any other symptoms? Vision blurry? Pain?”
“No.”
“Excellent.” The scientist wrote down a few notes and then looked at her again. “You'll stay here for another hour just to make sure you're alright, and then you'll be able to leave.”
“Okay.”
“Try to get some rest in the meantime,” the scientist said, before walking away.
Sansa saw him approaching to another scientist who was typing on a computer. They exchanged a few words, but Sansa couldn't read their lips.
Hopefully everything would be okay.
She rested her back on the headrest but didn't close her eyes. She didn't want to take a nap. She probably couldn't anyway.
Who could relax in a place like this? You would have to be exhausted to fall asleep.
Her eyes wandered across the room. There seemed to be scientists everywhere. Some of them were seated. Others came and went across the room, pulling a cart with pipettes and test tubes. Sansa felt as if she were watching a projection until her eyes settled on someone sitting on another stretcher.
Petyr.
Her heart beat faster. Of course, he had to be there. They must have woken up at the same time. He looked a little pale, but probably Sansa was too. She hadn't had the chance to look at herself in a mirror.
Their eyes met. Despite the signs of tiredness on his face, he looked as handsome as always. His hair disheveled, the black turtleneck and the grey jacket. To her surprise, he stood up and started walking in her direction.
One of the scientists made a gesture as if he was going to tell Petyr to go back to his stretcher, but Petyr raised his hand and shook his head without stopping. The scientist looked annoyed, but he focused on his tasks again. Petyr didn’t turn his face. Had he been that sure that the scientist wouldn’t insist?
Sansa wasn't still certain who was in charge here. At first, she thought it was Petyr, but sometimes it seemed as if he were following instructions.
Petyr paused in front of her, and Sansa noticed a softness in his eyes. Was it real or was just her imagination?
“How are you feeling?” he asked in a gentle tone.
“Well.” Sansa glanced at the scientists, who were closer to them for a moment and then, she directed her gaze to Petyr again. “And you?”
“I've done several simulations by now. The disorientation and the sensation of dizziness when you wake up aren't very nice, right?”
“No, they aren't.” Sansa tilted her head, and the words spilled out from her mouth before she could stop them. “But you haven't answered my question, Petyr. Are you alright?”
_Gods. Since when she talked so freely with him?_
To her relief, he smiled, and his gesture seemed sincere.
“I'm alright, sweetling, don't worry.”
_Sweetling._ The word brought the memories of the simulation back. Sansa blushed.
Petyr's gaze grew more intense, as if he was also remembering the moments they had shared in their minds. He leaned forward and brushed the back of her hand with his fingertips.
“May I?” he muttered.
Sansa nodded, although she didn’t know what he was going to do next. He stared into her eyes as if he wanted a confirmation that she was sure, and she nodded again.
He took her hand and turned her palm up gently. His thumb began to massage it in circular motions.
One, two, three, four.
Slowly. So slowly.
With each movement Sansa’s belly felt more and more ticklish. His gaze was so intoxicating that it made her forget where she was. She tightened her jaw in an attempt to not shiver.
She shouldn't feel this affected by his touch. She knew so.
But how could she control herself?
Suddenly, his thumb slid up to her wrist and pressed against her skin lightly. Sansa held her breath.
He was checking her pulse.
She swallowed, expecting him to mention how accelerated it was, how hard her heart must be pounding in her chest. However, Petyr remained silent.
Sansa let out her breath.
His thumb began to move again, this time across her wrist. Up and down. Up and down. It almost seemed a reassuring gesture.
Sansa's eyes closed halfway. She shouldn't lower her guard, but his caresses felt so wonderful.
He was touching her, and this time it wasn't a simulation.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I hope you enjoyed this. Thanks for reading! |
bdaa05504b394c4a93cb256e58b05068 | ['4a41f44aba7f499ba924f255abd8c0b2'] | "You don't have to thank me little one, It is my honour" it wasn't sane how easily I could melt from his words. He knew everything that I desired and aspired to have and did everything he could. Without having to be asked.
"What did I do to deserve you" I asked rhetorically.
DONE BITCHES
11. Chapter 11
Filler chapter I apologise but sometimes we need them.
Joseph PoV
When Sunday evening had finally rolled around and it was time for Ana to leave, I could help but notice the heavy feeling in my chest. It had been a long time since I had felt anything more than lust for a woman. I wanted to protect her,keep her by my side through the collapse. I knew in my heart that she was brought to me for a reason and the thought of her leaving was beginning to make me feel uncomfortable.
I carried her overnight bag to my car and placed it on the back seat. Ana was sat on the porch putting on her sandals. The pink sunset enhancing every one of her elegant features. I couldn't help but stare for a few seconds. Our eyes met as she stood up and I made my way towards her, pulling her in close as soon as she was within arms reach.
Guiding Ana towards the car I open the door for her and watched as she climbed in. Her dress stretching over her backside, accentuating every curve. As I made my way round to the drivers seat, a familiar ache began to rise in my trousers. Something I had been experiencing a lot since Ana's arrival.
Climbing into the drivers seat I rested my head on the steering wheel in an attempt to clear my thoughts.
"Are you alright Father?" Ana's voice was quiet.
"Yes, I am fine" I replied through gritted teeth.
"Are you sure?" Her words were now slightly more panicked. I lifted my head as a hand touched my though. The breath I had been unintentionally holding in released as I felt the warmth of her skin through my jeans. Turning toward her I smiled.
"I'm sure everything is fine" I reassured her. "Although we're going to have to do something about all these summers dresses" pulling down on the lace hem of her dress.
To my expectations that signature mischievous smile made its way onto her face. I shot her a warning look before raising my eyebrows.
"Don't" My voice pleading. Barely a whisper. "We have to get you home"
Ana pouted and folded her arms across her chest.
"Next time okay?" I asked rhetorically.
"Hmm" was the only response received.
I no longer needed directions to Ana's house which meant that we had more time to talk about different things.
Whilst I was open with Ana about a lot of stuff. Until she was a dedicated member of the church, there would be things that she wouldn't know.
Like the real reason the project had started.
After a while I began to notice that there was certain subjects that Ana would actively try to avoid. Questions that were to invasive about her parents were a no go. I tried not to pry too much. I hoped that when she was ready she would tell me everything.
As we neared Ana's house her small hand intertwined with my own. Fitting perfectly as always. With the remaining hand on the wheel I pulled into the drive way an shut off the engine.
"Don't forg-" I started before Ana interrupted me.
"I won't don't worry" the words flowed off her tongue with positivity and I could hear the smile in her voice. Even if I couldn't bring myself to make eye contact.
"I'll be back in no time" Ana's warm hand landed on my shoulder. "Come on! Help me carry my stuff"
Ana picked up her shoes from the floor and house keys from the centre console of the car whilst I took her bag from the back seat.
Together w made our way up the front steps and Ana unlocked the door.
The house was cool from being uninhabited for the past few days. A nice change from the hot humid Montana air.
With the bag dumped on the coffee table in the living room, I slumped down into the sofa. Not 3 seconds later the couch dipped slightly next to me indicating my nymphette sitting down next to me.
I opened my left eye only slightly to be met with Ana's piercing eyes looking back at my intensely.
"Yes" I questioned.
"Nothing" she replied almost to cheerily before throwing herself onto me and attacking my neck with her teeth.
"Hmmm. My sweet, whilst I would love to drag you too that bedroom and make you beg. I have already missed one sermon today and I cannot miss another"
"You've missed one already?" Her tone inquisitive.
"Yes. At 11AM"
"Well why didn't you tell me? We could've gone or I could've gone home. I won't be the one who drags you from your work Father Seed" Ana was frantic with her words.
"It's quite alright Ana don't worry. I haven't missed a single service since the church started, I think John could handle one without me" by now I had repositioned myself under Ana. Her legs straddling my thighs.
"What time does your service start?" She mumbled into my neck.
"7 in the Henbane then another at 9.30 at Falls End" I said glancing down at my watch. 5.46PM
"Speaking of which, I'm going get going if I want to be ready"
"Okay Joseph" Ana's voice was quiet now and her head and smile had both dropped.
I used my forefinger to lift Ana's chin up. | 9e00e94d65cc4b389b90440df4c2c66f | ['4a41f44aba7f499ba924f255abd8c0b2'] | "Can you not do that" I snapped at the room. "I know it's bad I don't need you guys reminding me" The two men sent me a apologetic look.
The doctor poked and prodded at my body. Earning herself sharp hisses when she touched the more tender wounds. Muttering her apologies every time.
"Your ribs are badly bruised, I'm surprised they aren't broken to be honest with you, your injuries are mostly superficial though and should clear up in the next few days, if you're feeling any discomfort then I suggest keeping some bliss on you at all times. Don't over do it though" She explained thoroughly to me whilst packing up Her equipment. "You can get dressed now"
I nodded my head in thanks and re dressed myself. The three of us walked down the stairs in a line and made our way to the living room where Jacob was waiting.
"I see you've kept your pet, Joseph" Jacob spat out as we entered the room. Joseph shot him a warning glance.
"No really Joseph, why are you keeping her round? She's just gonna fuck everything up" His words stung like a slap to the face.
"We were doing fine until you came along"
"Oh you were doing fine, yeah?! Cause your little brother being on basically every watch list in the fucking country" I spat harshly.
"What the fuck is your problem with me, you don't even know me"
"You are weak, look at you all broken and batte-"
"That's enough!" Joseph cut Jacob off. "If the two of you can't get along then Jacob you're going to have to leave"
"Me leave! Why not her?" Jacob argued pointing a finger at me. A smirk apparent on my face.
"Because Ana isn't the one causing the problems Jacob! That's why" Joseph's angry words cut through the tension. Jacob simply scoffed throwing a rucksack over his shoulder and leaving. Not without slamming the door like a child.
"One day he will see what I see in you I promise" Joseph reassured me placing a hand on either side of my face and planting a peck on my lips.
"Get a room" John laughed from the sofa.
The front door swung open again.
"What's up with him?" Faiths angelic voice called out. "Oh hi Ana" she danced her way over to me and pulled me in for a tight hug.
"That'll be what's up with him then" she said with a small laugh.
The four of us spent the rest of our evening talking and laughing. We listened to Joseph preach and I couldn't help but begin to wonder if he was right. Maybe something was coming, our world on the brink of war. Idiots running the country. People starving whilst the rich continue to get richer.
At around 10PM John and Faith had left leaving the house quiet.
Joseph wrapped his tattoo arms around my waist and pulled my into a warm hug.
"I'm sorry I wasn't able to stop what happened to you" He whispered into my hair.
"I've said it one and I'll say it again Joseph, it was not your fault. There was nothing you could've done" I said reassuringly.
"I promise I will make sure he faces his judgement" Joseph's eyes bore deeply into mine, flecks of silver highlighted their vivid blue colour.
I didn't respond just rested my head on his chest.
"Can we got to bed. I'm tired" I stifled a yawn.
"Of course" lifting me into his arms and carrying me up the stairs.
I changed into one of Joseph's shirts, peeled off my jeans and slipped under the covers. Joseph joined me a few minutes later. Snaking his muscular arms around my hips. Within minutes I had drifted off to sleep.
The rest of the week was spent enjoying the Montana heat. I found myself attending more and more of Joseph sermons, much to Jacobs disapproval. I often found him scowling from behind Joseph but that didn't deter me from sitting proudly on the front row hanging off every word that left his mouth.
I had began to get to know some of the other members of the church.
Everyone was very welcoming, not that they had a choice considering mine and Joseph's relationship. But I like to think that they would've been just as kind even had the situation been different.
When it became time for me to head home and return to work, the familiar weight had returned to my stomach. Leaving Hope County was always the worst part of visiting the Seed's.
"Only a week left my kitten" Joseph said to me as we stood in front of my car. I smiled up at him, the thought of not having to leave again.
"I'll bet this is the longest week of my life" I laughed dryly.
"I agree, but knowing you will be here forever makes it easier to deal with, don't you agree".
I hummed in agreement before picking up my bag from the floor, throwing it over my shoulder and climbied into the drivers seat.
Im super bad for updateing this on other site and then completely forgetting about here and I’m sorry I know I’m a terrible person
18. Chapter 18
Sorry im being super unreliable for updates right now, honestly my life's a joke, my insomnia is back and better. Than. Ever. Also I'm spending a lot of time crying right now but hopefully I'll get over it ASAP
Just a lil note, I'll stick to the story up until a certain point then imma do a twist on it! Sorry, not sorry.
When I returned to work the net day I was shocked to find someone sat at my desk. A new member of the police force.
"Erm excuse me, I think your sat at my desk" I said boldly to the woman sat in front of me. |
ff67811d6060406e9e2d1d5189af87cc | ['4a48f2680c2346b7a7727e9611d076b7'] | National Treasure
Misha is squirming a little, panting, and Jared’s pretty sure that if he doesn't touch him soon, he might die.
The skin-on-skin contact is like fire, like electric pulse and pleasure shooting through Jared; he groans and Misha echoes him.
"Come on, come on Jared, _please_." Misha tilts his hips further toward Jared, giving him a perfect view of that tiny pink hole.
Jared sits back on his heels and cocks his head, trying to figure out the best way to do this. Does he want Misha on his front, arms hooked under his knees and splaying himself open or on his back, hips supported with a pillow and legs spread wide?
Misha lets out a broken moan and a breathy " _Jared_ " and that pretty much decides it. Jared grabs the back of his knees and shoves them up so they're almost touching his shoulders, cock hanging down and brushing Misha's lower lip. Jared groans in surprise and arousal, he hadn't known Misha was so flexible.
Jared presses an open mouthed kiss to the swell of Misha's ass and nips his way to the crease, listening for what makes him groan. Jared leans forward and licks, one long swipe of his tongue along Misha’s hole. Misha gasps and scrabbles at Jared's head and Jared chuckles against his hole, "Not even gonna touch you, gonna make you come just like this,” Misha’s toes curl at the thought and does his best to smirk, “Go for it”.
Misha grunts and rolls his hips when Jared leaves another sloppy kiss just under his balls, licking his way down, tongue flicking out to tease at his hole, kitten licks that drive him insane.
He tries to push up against Jared’s face, tries to get him deeper, and makes the most embarrassing and pitiful sound when he pulls away. Jared sucks a bruise into the swell of Misha’s ass, knowing that every time he sits down he’ll be remind of this, Jared licking him out. The idea of sends a bolt of heat through him and his hips jerk against the sheets.
Misha breathes out, “Jared” and he finally licks back to Misha’s hole. He swipes his tongue over the puckered flesh and Misha makes a tiny mewling noise, music to his ears. He tongues in further, spit running down his chin as he corkscrews his tongue, licking at Misha’s insides and slides a finger in. Misha jerks at the feeling, a hard intrusion wiggling alongside Jared’s tongue, and moans helplessly when it presses up against that spot inside him.
“God, Jared, right there, please Jared, _come on_ ” and Jared’s fingerfucking him harder now, slurping at his rim and scraping his teeth over Misha’s sensitive skin.
He presses his own cock into the sheets, not enough pressure to get himself off but enough to keep him sane, and moans loud, vibrations making Misha’s cock twitch. Jared points his tongue, licking in tight little circles and thrusting it inside him. Misha rocks up into it, jaw clenching, eyes only half open, “God, _god_ , please Jared”. He tilts his hips, trying to get Jared’s finger back on that spot and Jared relents, adding another finger and changing the angle so they hit on every other stroke.
Misha’s moan catches in his throat and color rises in his cheeks, Jared keeps jarring his prostate and flicking his tongue around Misha’s rim. Misha’s noises go up in pitch, fast little “Ah, ah, ah”’s in time with Jared’s fingers. He threads his hands into Jared’s hair, pulling at the strands, trying to get him closer and trying to push him away at the same time. “Jared!”, he sounds panicked, like a surfer caught in a unexpectedly big wave.”Jared, stop, you have to stop, I-, I’m-“ and then he stiffens impossibly, toes curling and mouth going slack. Jared thrusts in and presses hard on Misha’s prostate and he’s _gone_. The orgasm rips through him, leaving him thrashing and shaking on the bed, cock jerking, come splashing halfway up his chest.
"Christ," he rasps, when he can feel his fingers again. He opens his eyes and looks down his body, over his softening cock and sees Jared, head resting against Misha’s knee and his hand moving softly over his own spent dick.
He moves up the length of the bed and collapses next to Misha with a muffled “oomf” and turns on his side, slipping a leg between Misha’s.
Misha stretches contentedly against the sheets and shifts further into Jared’s space, “Your tongue is a national goddamn treasure, you know that?” | c595947629a84286b0b31c4537b753fe | ['4a48f2680c2346b7a7727e9611d076b7'] | Only Gods Could Compose
Sam has always seen the beauty in things, things regular people wouldn’t glance twice at: the juxtaposition of red leaves against blue sky, a shaft of sunlight through dust, a white picket fence, pristine and new, a scraped knee and a mother kissing it better, a well polished knife and the smooth click of a gun, Dean when he first wakes up, eyes heavy with sleep and a petulant look on his face, glaring at the mirror with a toothbrush in his mouth, Jo laughing, wiping down a dirty glass with a dirtier rag, Bobby stirring yet another can of baked beans on his run down stovetop.
But this, this is real beauty. Castiel, eyes carefully blank, walls built high but cracked; Sam can see through to the lightning inside, writhing and clawing. Cas with his jaw clenched, silent, foreboding, _how dare you_. Dean thinks its Sam who has the rebellious, explosive temper; but Cas, Cas is a sight in his quiet rage. Cas, a hurricane and forest fire combined, a storm that finally tears through it's bonds and flashes, blinding, electrifying, breathtaking and awful. Cas with his lips drawn tight and spitfire glare and blood on his knuckles, fisted desperately over words he dares not speak.
Sam captures the storm, holds in gentle hands until it thrashes itself out, leaving only Cas. He presses his fingers into Cas’s palm, tracing the lines, he murmurs words into Cas’s hair, nonsense words that don’t matter to anyone but them. He presses a kiss to Cas’s temple and Cas leans into Sam’s embrace, still beautiful even after the storm splutters and comes to an end. |
1702ef40ced7491587376f4ef55d1d7d | ['4a4bb25400444e7a934b753361483551'] | Yes, you do know and you don’t like it. Jagiya is a nickname lovers give each other, while it was appropriate to use when feigning a relationship it shouldn’t be used so thoughtlessly outside that time frame.
“Whatever.” You mutter, ignoring the sharp pain in your ribs. “What are you doing here anyway? Do you have stuff to do?”
Hoseok pouts. “I’m taking care of you aren’t I? Doesn’t that count as doing something?”
You blush as yet again warmth floods your body. It’s been years since someone’s taken care of you. When you were little all you had to depend on was your Aunt and Uncle, they were never too fond of you. Hoseok being here for you...it’s almost too sweet to handle.
“I should have never given you a key.” You mutter, burying yourself under the blankets.
Thankfully Hoseok laughs not turn off by your rudeness. “Well it’s too late now. I’m not giving it up without a fight.”
You roll your eyes. “Don’t you have a frat house or something to go invade? I’m sure they’ll be happy to have your sunny ass.”
“Maybe.” Hoseok hums. “But I’m not returning until I’m sure you’re alright.The flu is a nasty thing. It kills you know?”
It kills...your mind flashes back to the contents of your vomit earlier. A hollow feeling fills you as your chest tightens. The flu killed, but maybe not as bad the affection blossoming within you for Hoseok.
Barely a week passes by when you decide to take the bull by its horn. The contract is on its last legs. While your end of the bargain is more than fulfilled, Hoseok’s still is nowhere near complete. Since that day he stood for you, Soomin had been sniffing around more, but it wasn’t enough. Time was running out in more than one way and you’d be damned if Hoseok didn’t get the happiness he deserved by the end of it.
Which is why you decide to make the ultimate move one day after class...a wide mouth sloppy kiss pressed against Hoseok’s unsuspecting lips. He jolts not shocked by your brazen behaviour. Physical affection had been apart of the contract, but until now it consisted solely of hand holding, hugs, and the occasional peck of forehead. For you to throw yourself at him like this...well you’re surprised Hoseok has enough sense to kiss you back.
Unsurprisingly Hoseok is well versed in the art of kissing. His tongue gentle entangling itself with yours as he guides you through it. He’s so good at it you almost believe Hoseok’s kissing you because he wants to and not to make Soomin jealous. The thought causes your heart to leap, but reality brings a choking feeling to you. Reluctantly you pull away praying before the sensation gets too overwhelming.
Hoseok silently stares at you, tongue running across his lips. “That was…”
“Unexpected, I know, sorry.” You says. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Soomin glaring daggers at you. Undoubtedly this little stunt will book you meeting with her, but you could care less. “But if it’s any consolation, I think it did the trick. Don’t look now but Soomin seems rather jealous.”
“Soomin?” Hoseok asks, eyeing immediately going towards the girl. He lets out a breathy laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Right, Soomin.”
You pat his shoulder. “Give it a day or two, but I promise she’ll come running back.”
Hoseok nods wordlessly his eyes never leaving Soomin. Your lips twitch upwards into a small smile, the suffocating pain growing as your love for him blooms. You lick your lips tasting the foreboding flavour of iron. “I guess this is it for us, huh Sunshine boy?”
You press one last kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for everything. I really enjoyed being your friend while it lasted.”
Hoseok snaps out of his trance. “While it lasted? (Y/N) wait-”
However it’s too late. You’ve already disappeared into the throng of students nowhere to be seen. Hoseok’s heart squeeze at memory of your sad smile. For the last few weeks all he wanted was to see you smile, but never like that. Silently Hoseok wonders if he caused that hurt smile of yours.
Two days later you find yourself surrounded by Soomin and her minions. It is nothing new, seeing how your antagonistic relationship goes back a good decade and a half. However this time there is more than just mutual dislike between you two. “You know Hoseok’s only dating you to get me back right? He would never look at you otherwise.” Soomin taunts, a wicked grin splitting across her face.
She wants to make you suffer-to hurt you in the worst way possible. It’s something Soomin’s always dreamt of, only to get disappointed by your apathy towards her. This time is no different.
“You’re probably right.” You agree. “But then again, you would think he’d realize it’s not working and give up, if that’s the case. I mean you’re obviously not going back to him, yet Hoseok’s still dating me. Hmmm ...I wonder…”
Her face turns red causing you more joy than necessary. Normally you didn’t antagonize Soomin like this, but you have a part to play. Hoseok wants her back, and you would do anything to help, even if it meant putting yourself in the line of fire.
“You disgusting freak! Stay away from my boyfriend!” Soomin shrieks.
A sharp slap rings through the air as pain spreads across your cheek. It takes you a second to realize what had happened. Your cheek stings something awfully fierce, and you know without a doubt it’ll be swollen later. Yet none of this matters, because Soomin said the magic words. The words that would bring Hoseok happiness.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” a familiar voice yells. | 3b17d66eba584bd1b5a41abf0e3d4303 | ['4a4bb25400444e7a934b753361483551'] |
Like Magnets We Repel (But Also Attract)
**Author's Note:**
> I have not yet decided if I want to continue this...
Mark above your hip stung like a freshly made sun burn, its pain familiar to the day you first received it. Even nineteen years later you could still feel the utter excitement your five year old self felt as your skin began to chaff and white scar like lines started forming under its redness. This was it. The moment every five year old waited for -even more so than the day their quirk would appear; today was the day you would find out the first words ever said to you by your soulmate.
You awaited the final formation of their words trying hard not to peel back pink shirt covering them to explore. The teachers already warned you twice about undressing during school. Still urge to see those words was strong. Emily, your best friend already received her tattoo which romantically stated, _"So we finally meet after all these months. "_ While your rival Katherine proudly showed off the words, _"I've been wanting to meet you ever since reading your article on sub-quirks,"_ hastily scrawled on her thigh. Everyone you ever knew had words of love and yearning tapered to their body and soon it would be your turn. The excitement forced you into getting ahead of your reading class determined to read those same sentiments for yourself.
When the burning finally did stop and you could reveal your hidden message, you were met with utter disappointment. "My soulmate doesn't know how to talk!" You cried, racing straight to your folks.
Your parents traded a worried glance. It was uncommon, but not rare for someone not to be matched. The appearance of soulmates after all started around the same time quirks appeared; although oddly enough that quirks had no real correlation to soulmarks. "What are you talking about mija? Didn't you say your skin felt like that time you stayed in the pool too long?" Your mother questioned, wiping her hands on a cloth.
"It could actually be a sunburn. We didn't actually look at it ourselves you know?" Your father mentioned. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. It probably just means she didn't match yet."
"A sunburn on her hip? Don't be silly. Come on mija let me see. Lift your shirt. " your mother instructed.
Before you could even react she lifted the flimsy material of pajamas. A moment of silence passed as she stared at the marking on your hip. She bit her lip suddenly bursting out into laughter. Embarrassed you pulled the material out of her hands. "See I told you! My soulmate is stupid! They can't even write!"
"Dios mios, mi amor come look at this!" Your mother laughed.
Your father raised an eyebrow, but relented nonetheless. "Alright let me see it, (Y/n)."
You shook your head pulling tighter on your shirt. "It's not their fault, they're stupid. I'll teach them how to write-"
"Oh for God's sakes (Y/n)!" Your mother tore the blouse out of your hands, revealing the weirds pictures drawn on your skin. Your poor soulmate embarrassed for something that wasn't their fault.
Your father stared at it for awhile before thoughtfully humming. "I guess you gotta learn asian, kid."
This earned your father a swat on the head followed by a long lecture from your mother about political correctness. Meanwhile you wondered just how one spoke Asian?
\------
Weeks later you learned that asian was not a language rather a race, and the words written on your hips were not scribbles but different language, of what? You were about to find out. It took a while but your parents found someone who specialized in foreign languages and could read your soulmark. "It's not unusual for people to have markings written in a language other than their own. After all there's more than a billion people in the world, it only makes sense not everyone gets paired with someone who speaks the same language." The specialist spoke pushing up her comically large glasses.
Your mother nodded along, "Yes, yes, perfect sense but what does my daughter's mark say?"
"Oh that!" The specialist spun around in her chair, scooting closer to where you sat. You inched back already weirded out by the office's hospital like atmosphere of with its white paint, sterile cleaning and posters inspirational posters. If not for the large bookshelves and messy desk you would've questioned just where you were.
"Well, come on now lift your shirt. Let's see what it says." Specialist reached out grabbing your shirt. Her eyes widened at its sight. Drool started to form in the corners of her mouth. "Ooh, ooooh, this is interesting. Very interesting. You don't see this everyday. Normally these things are written in Mandarin or Spanish - given that we are in America, but not this! This is a rarity! A real treat!"
"What. Does. It. Say?" Your mother gritted out.
"Oh yes! Yes! Yes! Sorry it's just been so long since I've seen Japanese." Specialist sighed. "Now give me one second and I'll have this all translated."
"Well at least we know what language it is. Your father can stop being an ass now." Your mother muttered.
Her words fell short though. Your mind raced with possibilities as to what your mark could say. Perhaps a declaration of love? Or maybe a compliment about your eyes or hair? Your father's first words to your mother were, _'you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen...'_
"It says: _watch where you are going, some of us are trying to sleep_ ."
Not for the first time your soulmate disappointed you.
\--------
Katherine was what your mother called a puta. You didn't know what that word meant, but you knew it was something bad and Katherine embodied all things bad. "It's alright (Y/n). Not all soulmate markings are romantic. In fact thirty percent of soulmarks-" |
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