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58b34b1c898647858545b0eafd158b5a | ['4a5374ff58da46e28adc8144a3be3e78'] | An endless tour for a reason, Piper thought to herself. Steam Powered Giraffe captured the attention of even the most grizzly of patrons, and the music was really all that could be heard.
At the end of the night, the captain made her way back to her ship, where the crew awaited her. Wonky waited patiently at the wheel, while Sea Brass was stationed at his usual place near the front of the ship. Piper passed them both on her way to the captain's quarters, leaving them without a word.
But if you asked either of them, they would swear they heard their captain muttering under her breath, "Feels like I'm on top of the universe."
2. But Don't Catch Her
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> As a graduating senior of this year, I've had trouble finding the time and motivation to write the succeeding chapters of this story. Nevertheless, here's the next chapter, and I hope you enjoy!
For far too many years in their pasts, Peter Walter's creations were warbots. Jumping from conflict to battle with little downtime in between had taken effect on the docile bots - and to this day, the robots desired a peaceful life, free of battles and war machines. For decades, the Colonel's bots had just that: freedom from the war they so despised. Music became their new passion, as their programming was recalibrated and shifted to reflect the lives they so craved. They hoped to have peace in the Walter Manor forever.
But forever is a long time for a robot, and forever was far longer than they should have expected. Eventually, war found the robots yet again.
While they were able to spend their time traversing the vast confines of space, spreading music to weary and jaded steambots in bars far and wide, the threat of war still loomed maliciously over the heads of the members of Steam Powered Giraffe. Remembrances they could never outlive flashed across their CPUs whenever they began to forget the seiged land they found themselves in, and peace evaded them.
There was only one thing in this world, in any world, that the Walter robots could count on in this world: each other.
\--
The S.S. Biscuiteer, stationed behind Lola's Bar, was down. At the end of the night, after their show had ended and the stage had been disassembled, the steambots had attempted to return to their ship - Beebop then dryly reported to them that the interface system was malfunctioning. Because of this, there was to be no piloting, and the band would have to delay their trip to the next stop on the tour. Stuck at Lola's, at least for the night, Rabbit, Hatchworth, and the Spine made their way back into the bar.
"Thought you had to take off," Taps commented with a subtle look of surprise on her face. "Ship troubles?"
"We seem to have a malfunction in our interface system," replied the Spine, all but reciting Beebop's statement from earlier verbatim. "Our technicians are running tests right now to determine the cause as quickly as possible."
Taps gave a stiff nod, then rolled from side to side idly. The bar was nearly empty again, except for patrons. "I suppose I could give you bots a round on the house; your performance had the place twice as full as usual," she said, followed by a clarion, electronic tone.
Rabbit was the first to take a seat at the bar, tapping her fingers rhythmically against the counter. She felt her gears grinding roughly and loudly; a glass of oil would do some good after such a long performance. Steam escaped from her mouth in a hissing noise - a few of the other bots at the bar looked over at her with apathy in their sockets, as if to wordlessly urge her to silence herself.
"Sure hope it isn't water deficiency in the tank," Taps continued as she returned to the bar with three tall glasses of oil in her hands. "Ain't much of that around here at all, and you'll have a hard time finding anyone who's willing to share."
"Thank you," said the Spine, lifting his glass towards her.
"On the house," she reminded him. She paused to give a meaningful look at each of the bots. Her tone dipped down as she resumed, effortlessly dramatic, "I do know of a steambot out there with some excess water and a heart of gold, if that turns out to be the problem."
"We'll let you know as soon as diagnostics are complete," the Spine said in smooth retort, shutting down Taps's dramatics in an instant. The last thing the bots wanted was to be in debt to some pirate or criminal while trapped in this foreign world.
\--
"Will we be takin' off soon, cap'n?" Sea Brass asked when Piper exited her quarters. He could tell by the look in her eyes, and not much more, that things weren't all right in the captain's mind - she was taking personally the dip in swag and loot lately, and feeling quite on edge. The night off hadn't helped her relax as much as they'd hoped. Sea Brass was quite in tune with the way his captain displayed her emotions, though they weren't right on her sleeves. They'd traveled together for some time now, and he felt quite akin to her in many ways. They both had a history, and he knew more than any other how seriously Piper took her job.
Piper let out an audible sigh after a heavy pause, followed by, "We don't have a heading yet." One couldn't tell from her voice the immense pressure she had placed herself under - smooth and firm in tone, she exuded inspiration from her boiler despite her current emotions. She reached an arm up towards her head, then reeled it back quickly. "Have you seen my hat?"
"No, ma'am, not since we were at Lola's," Sea Brass responded. | 6055198d0fb94250ac7f5f3b8239041f | ['4a5374ff58da46e28adc8144a3be3e78'] | Grounding
**Author's Note:**
> As said in the summary, this is unfinished. No need to read, honestly. In my personal life, a loved one has suffered a massive stroke and has left me with a lot of unresolved emotions. I needed to write it out, and, for the same reason, I need to post it. I need to get it out there. I used Rabbit as a poppet for my own feelings, so this may be OOC. I can hardly care at this point; my writing is an expression of myself.
>
> Anyway, this is also an explanation for why Red & Copper hasn't been updated in a while. Life is life. Forgive me.
Hetero-chromatic beams of emerald and sapphire fell dim as Rabbit closed her heavy metal eyelids; a whir of cogs turning as she did so resounded behind her face plate. Mechanical hums were her life now - the silence would grow too heavy otherwise. She could feel every gear turning and grinding in her head, and that's what kept her grounded as generations flew by.
As humanoid as the Walter robotics appeared, they were far from it. Metal and wires instead of flesh and bone, gnashing machinery replacing corpulent organs. Feelings weren't in their programming; at least, that's what the Walter lineage had always assumed. Immortal metal men designed for war had no need for emotions, no capacity for heartache. CPUs and hardware could not reproduce authentic human emotion.
Rabbit felt so far from human sometimes. As the Walter heritage decayed and was reborn around them, the automatons stayed the same. Face plates and upgrades came and went, but the bots remained stagnant. With proper upkeep traversing five generations of Walters, they watched so many be borne into the family, then take their last breath in hardly a blink of a metal eyelid. Decay for them was marked only by rust or oxidation. The robots would not age, and they would not die.
Annie Walter lie very still in her bed. Settled around her were her husband and son, the Fifth and the Sixth, and the 119 year old robots who had lived in the Manor long before Annie had even been born. The room was somber and silent, save for the disjointed breathing from the three Walters and the whirring coming from the automatons. The Spine stood straight and tall behind the Fifth, who was seated in a plump chair and angled towards his wife's bed, and adjacent to the Sixth, who looked ancient and brooding in the light of the lamp as he stared down at his mother. Rabbit and Hatchworth both stood at the foot of the bed, peering at the sick woman with knowing bleakness in their expressions.
They'd seen it all too many times. Another generation was passing.
Time didn't affect robots in the way it affected the humans around them. While the blink of an eye was fleeting, so too were long, blissful moments. Years could feel like seconds, but moments could feel unending at times. Never long enough, though.
Rabbit felt so far from human sometimes, but other times she knew the emotions her human family would talk about. She felt quite strongly, despite it not being written in her coding. She knew heartache and the feeling of loss. She grieved. As Annie departed from her body, Rabbit would swear oil nearly leaked out of her face plate at the eyes.
Tears were beyond her ability, but sometimes she wished she could manufacture them. Crying could help let some of the pent-up emotion out. Instead, bottled within her mechanical heart, were the unforgotten memories saved from over a century. Faces of loved ones who grew up and were gone in a heartbeat haunted her CPU. With the ability to reexamine and analyze 119 years worth of moments, Rabbit knew better than most that what is gone will stay gone. Living within those memories was dangerous; it would be too easy to drown herself in the world of the past.
Instead, Rabbit focused on grinding gears and buzzing cogs. It was all she could count on in the world sometimes. |
c186b169c3944c1cadac0d16bebacf3d | ['4a76796120fc4719951a69ccece623db'] |
More Than Just Alright
Craig Boone sat alone in a dim room as he fiddled with his rifle. He could hear an argument from the other side of the door. Most likely Arcade and Cass fighting over something stupid, as per usual. It had gotten crowded in the Lucky 37, and everyone seemed to be at each other's throats. Though, it always seemed significantly worse when Lorna left them to their own devices.
Lorna. Lorna. Lorna. Her name played over and over in his head like a tune he couldn’t forget.
She’d been called Courier Six, The Savior of the NCR, but there was something about the name “Lorna Vandal” that stuck out to him. That rang in his ears like a bell.
For months there had only been one woman on his mind, months of sorrowful despair and apathy until the Courier walked into his life. She’d saved him, from Raiders, from Legionnaires, but most importantly: she saved him from himself. He no longer dreamt of what happened at Bitter Springs, what happened to Carla. He no longer woke every morning to find he felt nothing but dread that he still drew breath when his wife did not. He wasn’t just surviving, he was living, and it was all because of her. Because of Lorna.
A soft beep sounded in the hallway, followed by an abrupt silence between whatever fools has been arguing before.
“Where’d you go?” Boone could hear Cass ask.
“Just did some gambling.” Lorna’s muffled voice approached the dinning room before the dim lights quickly became overpowered by the lights of the hallway.
Boone squinted before putting his sunglasses back on.
“You making us dinner, or were you just sitting in dark by yourself?” She asked.
He sat up straight. “This place gets crowded.”
Her eyes scrunched closed as she smiled, making Boone’s heart flutter for a moment. He felt like a boy with a crush, it made him feel weak. Made him feel small. He supposed it made sense, why he felt so much for her. She’d done more for him than anyone ever had, even Carla. Still, it felt wrong, felt foreign.
“I suppose it has gotten pretty crowded in the past few weeks. What, with having a robot, a robot dog, and a night stalker grandmother living with us. And that’s only the non-humans.” She laughed again.
“The humans are the annoying ones.” He added under his breath.
Lorna mockingly gasped. “Craig Boone, annoyed? Who ever would have thought.” She sat beside at the table as she eyed the rifle sitting before him. “You know, you remind me a lot of guy I used to know.”
Boone raised an eyebrow, unsure of whether that was a good thing or not. He could barely think straight with the heat of her body so close to him. “Every time you talk about someone ‘you used to know’ they usually were a creep or a murderer or both.”
“Well, that’s what you get when you were raised amongst raiders.” She said with a shrug of her shoulders.
Boone had known she was an ex-raider, but it still felt like a sudden shock every time she reminded him. She was nothing like a raider. She was good, undeniably good.
“His name was Lion.” She laughed at her own words. “It’s a stupid name, I know, but our father was obsessed with pre-war stories of great beasts with manes of fur that surrounded that faces. So much so, that his gang wore animal furs around their necks. He wanted the gang to be called the Lions, but when none of the other’s would go for it, he settled on naming his son ‘Lion’.”
“Lion is your brother?”
“Not by blood, but yes. He was the closest thing I had to family.”
“Was?” Boone’s eyes widened as he realized he’d perhaps pried too much. Lorna had been open to him before, but he knew very well that there were some things no one wishes to discuss.
Lorna coughed awkwardly, before letting out an exaggerated sigh. “My father… The man who raised me, he wasn’t cruel, or at least not the way you would expect a raider to be. He found me and Lion when I was an infant, and he was a toddler. He and the gang had taken us in and actually cared for us. I decided to leave the gang when I was 17, but it wasn’t because of some altruistic goal or moral objection to the raider life style, but because the Vandal gang wasn’t making enough caps. I wanted more, I wanted power, but Lion shut me out. He told me if I left, he’d shoot me on sight if he saw me again.” Lorna grew silent for a moment, looking as if she was choking up. “When I left the gang, I got kicked down, beaten, defiled, but it took me being shot in the head and dug up from the grave for me to find a better path. Even on this path, I miss the Vandals, so much so that when someone asked my family name, I said Vandal, and just kept saying it.”
There was a silent moment between the two. Boone felt as if he was holding his breath, trying to give Lorna the silence she deserved. She hadn’t meant to bring up an issue that was weighing so heavy on her, but it seemed that her mind had been looking for a release, for someone who was willing to listen.
Boone gazed through the tint of his sunglasses as the softness of her face. She was so beautiful, even with the faint blue of a bruise around her eye, or the slight frizz in her raven hair. | 7a259e7b4b6c42578057af30379d8727 | ['4a76796120fc4719951a69ccece623db'] | To his dismay, she took a step closer. “I’ve never seen you like this. Are you sick?” She reached her hand up to touch his forehead. Her gaze moved from his forehead to his eyes. He stared back. His heart felt as if it weren’t beating, time felt as if it had stopped. Before he knew it, her lips were pressed tight to his. Did he instigate it, did she? He didn’t know but he was damn sure not going to stop and ask.
Butch went crazy as she drew him closer, running her hands diligently through his hair then down his neck, causing every hair on his body to stand up. He pulled at his jacket, unzipping it and throwing it to their feet. She followed suit, quickly unzipping and stripping him of his jumpsuit.
She pulled away, leaving him breathless. Was she having regrets? “Your bed?” She asked.
He tried to catch his breath enough to speak, but all that came out was an awkward, “Yeah.”
Still standing before him, she slowly unzipped her jumpsuit to her ankles, leaving the both of them in only an undershirt and underwear. He stared breathlessly at the sight of her curves beneath the small layer of cloth. She was more than beautiful. Words could not quite describe the way she looked.
She pushed forward back into his embrace as he slowly lowered the two of them onto his bed. The way her lips felt against his, his tongue against hers, it was like nothing he’d ever felt before. He couldn’t believe that he was passionately kissing Sienna Bishop, or that she was kissing him back.
“Your mom?”
“It’s fine.” He whispered against her skin.
He laid there, her entire weight on top of him. She sat up straddling his hips. He wondered if he knew just how much he felt for her, how much he yearned for her. Either way, he would do his best to show her.
He tugged at her undershirt. She looked down at it with what seemed like a slight hesitation.
“It’s alright if you want to stop.” Butch said.
“Oh, it’s not that. I definitely don’t want to stop. I’ve just never let anyone ever see me, see all of me. It’s stupid, I know.”
Butch let out a sigh of relief. “It’s not stupid. Keep it on if it’ll make you comfortable.”
Sienna looked down at him, her face completely unreadable. Like she was mesmerized, or surprised. “No, I’m fine.” She pulled her shirt off in a quick motion, revealing the curves of her hips and breasts. “Now let’s get the rest of your damn clothes off.” She said with a small laugh.
She proceeded to pull and tug at his clothes until he sat completely naked, mind and body.
“Are you sure?” He asked.
She nodded, immediately returning her lips to his, then to his neck. She kept her fingers tangled in his hair. His hands moved down her back, and finally he entered her.
She let out a soft moan, sending shivers down his spine. He couldn’t help but make a similar sound as she began to grind atop him.
He was having sex with Sienna Bishop, perhaps it was even correct to use the cringey term “making love”, because it didn’t feel at all like the hormonal tumbles he’d had with other girls. No, this felt vulnerable, like he was worshiping this girl as their bodies were intertwined.
Sienna continued to grind on top of him as he wrapped his arms tightly around her. Her lips made their way down to his collarbone. She picked up her pace and she moved back to his lips. Moans escaped from both of them, completely forgetting that they could easily be heard. Or perhaps neither of them cared,
“Sienna.” He moaned beneath his breath just before finishing inside of her.
Though he was no longer inside her, Sienna kept her body atop his, her breath still jagged and loud as she lifted her neck to face him. “That was unexpected.” She rested her chin on his collarbone.
“I think I love you, nosebleed.” He said, his face soft and his eyes almost watery.
She ran her finger along his neck and up to his lips. “That’s crazy. But you wanna know something even crazier: I think I love you back.”
Butch DeLoria felt as if his spirit had left his body. He loved this girl, and she loved him back. How did he ever get so lucky?
Normally after having sex he or the other person would immediately leave right afterwards, but this time was different. He wanted to lay there with her, to hear her breathe, to feel her body pressed against his forever. Even after they were both dressed, he wanted her to stick around, to talk to her for an ungodly amount of time.
“I'm still in disbelief.” Sienna said, lounging beside him on the couch.
“I’m not shocked you’re into this,” He said as she ran his hand over his body. “I mean, look at me.”
“Now there’s the Butch I know.” She said with a laugh.
“And love.” He added.
‘And tolerate.” She said.
3. I'll give him the signature Butch charm.
Sienna’s mind was in the clouds. Butch DeLoria said he loved her, and she said it back.
To be entirely honest, she was unsure what love felt like. She loved Amata, as well as her father, but this was different, this was passionate, romantic.
She’d always known she had feelings for Butch, though for most of her life they were feelings of hatred or anger. But as she stood before him, his eyes soft and almost mournful, she’d ended up kissing him, and all the anger she felt towards him washed away. |
e32a37ef39db4ea288ac8896f89b8fb5 | ['4a793d904d1a4ec7a9401cb814d82c15'] | But Jessica and Emma weren't here to visit sadly, they were here on a private investigation. The disappearances of children and even some out-of towners stopping by.
"Look...hardly anyone is outside now.." Jessica said as she drove passed old stores that were usually packed at this time of day...or at least that's what it used to be when their were younger and still living here. What made it more unusual is that it was a nice, sunny day out. The disappearances must have everyone spooked.
"Very strange." Emma replied, having nothing else to really say about this situation.
"Remember that old tree we used to swing on...the one near the lake?" Jessica suddenly said.
"Yeah I do...I wonder if the old thing is still standing up after all these years."
"I had a dream about it last night..."
Emma suddenly got flash backs of the tree as a child and the strange dream where she encountered Slenderman...she wondered if she should tell Jessica about it since there case just so happens to involve the tall creature and see if there dreams were somehow linked. But, she decided to let Jessica tell her dream first.
\----------------------
"We were at the tree...but something was different, something was off about it.."
Emma remained silent as she wanted Jessica to continue telling her about the dream. However, she seemed like she said too much already...whatever that means.
The car ride suddenly grew awkward and silent. All you could here was the wind and nothing else.
Suddenly, Jessica grew ill and had to park the car on the side of the road to puke.
"You alright?" Emma asks reaching over to help her friend and partner back to her feet. But she sits down instead.
"No, no, I'm alright....just need to sit down for a few minutes..."
"Do we need to go to the hospital?" Emma asks leaning up against the car's side.
"No, just car sickness I guess....I get this after driving for awhile remember.." Jessica said between paints and babybarfs.
"Not this bad though." Emma said with a small laugh.
"Now...Do you want to continue telling me about your dream?"
Jessica sat that for a moment.
"We need to visit that tree....and then I'll continue."
She acted like she was in a trance.
"Jessica?"
"You drive." She said getting into the back seat and laying down.
Emma got into a driver's seat and started the car. But driving to this certain tree was going to be difficult indeed. To get there, you have to drive down this old dirt road filled with potholes and branches.
Finally, after a difficult drive, having to stop a few times to let Jessica throw up some more, and a few times if banging your head against the car's window. They were there.
It was a secret passageway to the lake where there was no adults at. You can guess what other activities teenagers did here at nightfall...but enough about that.
The two women got out of the car and walked up to the big tree. It was slightly bent over more than it originally was and looked like some lightning bolts got to it too. They were both surprised to see it still standing in the condition.
"Well...we're here..." Emma said turning to see Jessica...but see wasn't there...or the car.
"Jessica??! This isn't funny!"
"Jessica!!!? Where are you??" Emma kept looking around frantically.
"Jessica!!!?"
4. F O L L O W
Emma woke up in a strange place. She thought it was the forest she was left in but, something was different...
Everything was fuzzy and there was no color....the sky was white with no sun or moon...or even clouds. The trees were black and so was the grass.
Even the "air" here had a fuzzy noise that seemed to echo everywhere with no sign that it would stop.
It started to hurt her eyes and ears.
But then she saw that same old tree...the only thing she could recognize. The path was gone...it was just endless black trees now.
She carefully walked towards the tree and sat up against it. She tried her pockets for her cell phone and a weapon, but they were gone.
No way to call someone for help or a way to defend herself...
Suddenly, she looks to her right and sees a path leading somewhere. It was black and seemed to glow red...
What is this place? Where am I?! None of this makes any sense at all!!!
She scared to slightly get scared now. The dream...Jessica's strange behavior and leaving her behind...the whole case. It scared her.
Does Jessica know something that I don't about this?
Emma suddenly got the urge to start walking on the path...that she should f o l l o w it.
But something inside her said not too...that it was leading her to something bad.
She felt like it was trick or trap, that she was being hunted in a way.
Voices suddenly echoed the area...coming out of no where and from no one. All the voices were different from each other...some even sound like children..
F o l l o w the path....
F o l l o w it....
Do it....you must F o l l o w...
F o l l o w HIM...
"Who are you!!!!!???" Emma said holding her ears as she sat under that tree. "What do you want!?! Leave me alone!!!" She continued to yell out as tears fell down her checks. What scared Emma more is the fact that she was automatically panicking.
Am I dead?
Is this heaven or hell...or some other place??
Am I just imagining this?
I'm going crazy, aren't I? This can't be actually real...
She suddenly hears a ringing in her ears...it wasn't the fuzzy sound like before...it was much louder.
Emma then hears footsteps coming from her left...as it got closer, the ringing sound grew louder too.
She knew that it had to be him....
The Slenderman... | ad484889d0fa4cd9a6470f2477ae97c3 | ['4a793d904d1a4ec7a9401cb814d82c15'] | She felt more like a child like Gohan to him.
"Maybe I should go apologise to her after my walk...I'm sure she'll forgive me after all.." Piccolo said as he continued his walk.
__________________________
Lin opened the door to her and her sister's house.
Mayumi wasn't home as of right now, she was probably training or something.
Mayumi seemed to have little to no time for Lin anymore. Twins should always have time for each other....shouldn't they?
Lin just wanted to cry and scream...but she was too tired to do both of those things.
"Maybe Piccolo is right...maybe I am a bit selfish..." She fell backwards on the living room couch. "But...I'm not doing it for myself...I wanted to make him happy, not angry.."
"I guess I'm nothing but a burden on people I care about..."
Lin was really starting to believe this. Mayumi, her own sister, would get mad at her just how Piccolo does...for different reasons of course but...still..
"Are you serious?" Said a familiar male voice.
"Blizzard?...What are you doing here?" Lin said sitting up to see the Arcosian looking through the freezer in the kitchen. "And how did you get in here?"
"I'm looking for this "Cream of ice".." Blizzard said with a slight disappointing tone. "And I knocked down your back door..."
"You mean Ice Cream? ....also Mayumi is going to kill you when she sees that door...." Lin said getting up and finding the ice cream for Blizzard. The poor guy was clue less about finding it.
"I figured she would..." Blizzard said before stuffing his mouth full of ice cream.
"So....I'm guessing that your Valentine's Day is sucking too?" Lin said hoping to start a conversation with her lizard pal.
"What's...That?" He asks with his mouth full.
"A day where couples spend time together....I wanted to spend time with Piccolo and-"
"I already know how that went for you..." Blizzard said rolling his eyes. "I don't see why you like him...Piccolo is kind of an asshole towards you...and everyone else.."
"Hey! He's not!" Lin said crossing her arms. "I...just annoy him...so it's my fault.."
"How? You pour your heart out to him and he doesn't even care enough to at least listen to how you feel?" Blizzard said waving a spoon full of ice cream. "Sure, I was a jerk at first but you cared enough to listen to me and how I truly felt....and now I don't do bad things anymore and now we're friends."
"That's true...wait. Why are you trying to turn me against Piccolo for?" Lin said raising a eyebrow.
"I just think that you should just forget about him..that's all." Blizzard said eating the ice cream that was on the spoon and then scooping for more....only to find that he already ate all of it.
"Again...Mayumi is going to also kill you for eating all that." Lin laughs.
"Hey...Why don't we spend that day together?" Blizzard asks as he set the empty ice cream container down on the table next to him.
"You mean Valentine's day?" Lin asks. "But that's for couples....and I thought that you like my sister!" Lin said covering up her mouth with her hands.
"I meant as friends! Geesh.." Blizzard said laughing.
"Oh ok....I guess we can..." Lin said scratching her head awkwardly.
"Ok awesome! Just make sure we get to eat corn of pop.."
"Blizzard, that's called Pop corn." Lin said sighing deeply.
____________________________
Piccolo came upon the backside of the house to see that the back door was knocked in.
"Lin!? You ok?" Piccolo asks stepping inside.
"Piccolo??..." Lin said somewhat surprised. "What are you doing here?"
Piccolo awkwardly shrugged.
"I came...to say sorry..."
Lin frowns. "No no! Don't be...You were right..I'm the one who's sorry.."
"Also...Happy Valentine's day.." Piccolo replies uncomfortably.
Lin smiles hugely. "Happy Valentine's Day to you too, Piccolo..." |
9f3aad8a78084d768476e660a5bce35b | ['4a7c313cc882407b8b3f997025bbc777'] | > Agent Red gets in Ant-man's way for the second time so he decided to enlist a friend in helping him stop the Agent but she has a friend of her own.
The next afternoon, you rolled yourself out of bed and started looking up your next target, Venice Vinny. You were able to find that he frequents a club downtown and stays till around 3am twice a week. Tonight was going to be the last night for Vinny. Sitting up and heading towards your shower, you can’t help but to think if Scott Lang is going to try to beat you to the punch again tonight. He seems to be targeting the same people as you and Vinny has a very predictable schedule. This guy has no idea that his other mob boss friend had been killed so he will probably continue on with his weekly obligations. The news sites had no reports of Luigi’s death and it was most likely due to the police keeping it hush hush until Ant-man finished arresting the guys. You ate some ramen and relaxed the rest of the day until you were able to pull your costume on and get ready.
It’s around 1:00 am right now, you grab your rifle and start to head out the door to find the perfect rooftop. There is a perfect perch on a four story building directly in front of the club entrance. You position your rifle and start to fiddle with the scope until it is sighted perfectly. Sniping is the best decision for this hit since you already have one hero trying to find you. Stay low and out of the way and nobody will be the wiser. They can’t connect you to this if they never see you. You lean back and check you watch it’s 2:00 am now. You have an hour before Vinny comes out for the night. You decided to check your scope on more time to make sure it is positioned perfectly. The feeling of eyes being on you is creeping up your spine and making the hair on the back of your neck rise. This isn’t good. As soon as you remove your face from the scope, someone is hurling there foot towards your face and knocking you off balance. You are able to roll to the left and avoid the kick. Looking up it is no other than Scott Lang.
“Just couldn’t stay away from me could ya Agent Red.” Ant-Man says while walking towards you. You pull your knives from your boots while rolling backwards onto your feet. If he wants a fight then he will get one. You are not running and missing this target. There is plenty of time to run this guy off and still get your target. You go to swipe towards his neck and he disappears again and you feel a swift punch to the face. You search your memory and remember reading about how he used Pym particles to minimize and maximize himself but maintain his full strength. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as you thought.
“Why do you want these guys anyways?” You said hoping that maybe some conversation would distract him while you jumped up and looked around.
“So I can stop them for good and get them put behind bars” He stated confidently while returning to full form and kicking towards you. You avoid the kick while performing a backwards somersault.
“I think you are confused because technically I am stopping them for good, ya know. It's hard to recover from a bullet in the head.” Scott comes running towards you and attempts to punch you in the face. You block the punch with your elbow and slide your knife across his rib cage.
“Fuckkkk! Stop acting like you are doing something good. You are only doing this for money anyways!” He screams out while stalking backwards to get some distance from your knives.
“So? If you want me to stop then pay me more. What’s your real reason for going after these guys?” You say while holding your fighting pose and letting him back away from you.
“We need them alive Agent Red. You can kill them after the trial! I really don’t care what happens after that.” He screams out.
“No can do. Not my instructions.” You say while still holding your ground.
He suddenly disappears and you decide to try and run. You dodge right to grab your rifle but Ant-man pops back up to full size and throws you on your back. He throws a punch towards your face and you are able to block it. The gun doesn’t hold any value to you anyways so you decide you can leave it and roll over to make an escape. Scott has too much adrenaline pumping through his veins for your earlier cut to slow him down at this point. He is running after you and is obviously planning to subdue you. You turn around and begin shooting at him. You didn’t really want to kill him but he needs to stop chasing after you. He is able to easily dodge the messily aimed bullets and you jump down onto the fire escape. You see a garbage truck passing by and you hurl yourself onto the top of it. As your turn around, you see Scott with his mask up and flipping you off from the edge of the building.
“See ya next time” you scream. He throws his hands up with visible annoyance.
**** | 39124090a5ef442c98264cda810b99a8 | ['4a7c313cc882407b8b3f997025bbc777'] | A car pulls up and drops Big Luigi off at the front entrance. He has no guards with him and is slowly exiting when a person in a red suit appears out of nowhere and throws him to the ground. Who the fuck is this guy and why is he trying to take my target? Breaking the window and jumping out, you land to the street and start running towards where the scuffle is happening. The vigilante is wearing a metal mask with red eyes that has antennas sticking out on either side of the helmet, like a bug of some sort. The masked man keeps disappearing and reappearing with punches to Luigi’s face. Luigi falls to the ground and the man pulls him onto his stomach and starts putting him into handcuffs. You couldn’t lose your first hit and the target is already subdued. You run up and pull the trigger, Luigi’s brains fly all over the vigilante and blood begins to pool onto the cement. Instead of waiting to see what happens, you take off towards the nearest ally.
“Hey, hey! You can’t just kill my guy! Get back here! Who the hell are you? I’m Ant-Man, let’s talk about this. Has that guy hurt you before?” You hear the man yelling as he is chasing behind you. The screaming stops and you see a hoard of ants piling up and blocking the alleyway in front of you and then he appears again and starts running towards you. You jump onto the nearest fire escape and run quickly up it and start jumping between the buildings as quickly as you can. Thankfully there are buildings for miles here. You take of towards the left and run back down a fire escape until you are sure that he is gone. You keep to the alleyways the rest of the way to your apartment and make sure to take random streets circling it for a while to ensure you weren’t followed. That was a close call and what would a hero want with a low level boss that was already giving information away? At least you made it back and would have to be more careful not to run into this Ant-Man guy again.
You went to the room and started changing into your lounging clothes while you pulled out your computer to try to do some research. All you could find was a picture and a guy named Scott Lang who use to be a thief and spent some time in prison. Whatever this guy's issue was, he certainly had no right to tell you not to do your job. When your cell phone starts to ring, it startles you a bit. The apartment had been so silent and you had been captivated by the picture on your screen that you could hear a pin drop. It’s Deadpool giving you a call. You had met him a few times and were usually competing for jobs but nothing makes a good acquaintance like shooting at each other. Every once in awhile, the both of you would meet up for drinks to hang out. His off the wall banter always had you laughing. Debating in your mind what he possibly wanted, you decided it might be in your best interest to answer. You knew he had been hanging around New York lately from the tabloids.
“What’s up Deadpool?”
“Why didn’t you call and tell me you were in New York Red? We could be eating chimichangas right now! I know where all the best places are. I even have my lil Spider approving the places now.”
“So you and Spiderman are buds now?”
“He’s working on reforming me and making me a hero. It’s fun and all, whatever I have to do to hang out with him. Funny thing happened earlier, would you like to know what it is?”
“First of all, how do you know I’m in New York and second of all, yes, I would like to know.”
“ Calm down, I am getting to that part. So me and Spiderman were having a lovely little date at my favorite food truck and we see Ant-Man run by all pissed off. Being the caring friend I am, I had to ask him what was wrong and he kept talking about some chick that just killed his guy. I mean this could be any chick, right!? But then he mentioned that she had black eyes and a face mask on and those blood red leather boots, which I have always been jealous of by the way, and I instantly thought of you.”
“Did you tell him anything?”
“Nah, of course not. Just because I’m not a merc anymore does mean I’m going to go screw all my homies over. I did tell him you were Agent Red though and that he really shouldn’t mess with ya and your knives.”
“Great. So, why is this Ant-Man trying to arrest mob bosses?”
“I didn’t tell him anything about you so I’m not about to tell you anything about him sweety.”
“Got it. Thanks for the heads up. I will let you know when I’m free and we can grab a drink or something.”
“Damn right you will. Just try to refrain from shooting me the next time we meet up.” You laughed and hung up the phone.
At least Deadpool hadn’t told this man anything relevant about you. It would be impossible for them to find out anything anyways. You hadn’t gone by or really used your birth name since you were a teenager. You looked at your computer one last time before turning it off for the night. You did have to admit that Scott Lang, or the Ant-Man as he likes to be called, was kind of cute.
2. Chapter 2
**Summary for the Chapter:** |
cd06c979e7524c1f99f48909df6908ec | ['4aa9b75eed6544e49155c84dd20de00e'] | After talking to Bellamy a week ago she just took a pair of scissors and cut her hair to shoulder length. The haircut itself isn't even that much of a problem. It's what it reminds her of. Or who.
It was supposed to do the exact opposite of that. She wanted a new start and thought, maybe new hair was a good first step in the right direction. But instead, it just keeps reminding her of what she's left behind. And is never going to get back.
Clarke stares at the wall in silence, lost in her thoughts while spinning a strand of hair between her fingers.
„You have to let him go, Clarke.“
Her mother's words feel like a stab through the heart. Clarke knows she's right. She should let him go. Finally forget about him and move on.
If only it were that easy.
„Leave it alone, Mom“, she snaps. Abby reaches for her arm but Clarke turns away in time. She can't stand her pity. Not when she knows that everything that happened between her and Bellamy is her fault. She should have known it would come to something like this. Maybe she did, somewhere deep down, and she still decided to pull the trigger. To put her people above Bellamy, the way she's always done.
Being surrounded by people makes the days easier. They remind her that she didn't only take lives but saved them, too. And they remind her that there was a reason for her sacrifice. Some days it still doesn't feel like enough.
After what happened when he woke up seven days ago she hasn't seen Bellamy again. She asked her mother to make sure he's safe, that he won't hurt himself again, but he barely talks to her. She probably reminds him too much of Clarke.
Sometimes she wonders if he really does hate her, or is only trying to tell himself that. Because she knows that deep down, he understands what she's done. The feeling may be buried beneath all the anger and sadness but it's there. She knows that. She's always known. And in the beginning, before he tried to take his life, she thought that maybe it could be enough. Enough to make him forgive her someday. But she's not that naive now anymore.
„Clarke, there's something you should know“, her mother says eventually. She looks concerned. „It's about Bellamy.“
Before she can even finish saying his name, Clarke is already shoving her aside to leave the room. Another speech about Bellamy and how she should forget him is the last thing she needs right now. Her mother can't tell her anything about her and Bellamy's relationship she doesn't know herself. Like that he hates her. And that he will never forgive her. And that it's all her fault.
„Clarke, no“, she says gently and pulls her back. „It's not what you think.“
Clarke crosses her arms in front of her chest and rolls her eyes. Abby wants her to forget him, yet she keeps bringing him up. How ironic.
„Then what is it?“, she asks impatiently. Her mother looks to the ground and Clarke can feel herself getting angry. Why can nobody ever just tell her the truth without treating her like she's about to fall apart?
„Mom, if you don't-“
„He tried again.“
The words just hang there for a moment. Clarke is the one who eventually breaks the silence.
„What?“
There it is again. The pity in her mother's expression. And just this once, Clarke allows her to do just that. To pity her.
„Three days ago“, Abby answers quietly. It's almost a whisper. „He tried stealing some pills. Jackson was the one who found and took them away in time.“
Clarke just stares at her. She doesn't know what to say. She doesn't even know what to think.
„We'll be more careful from now on“, her mother says gently. „He won't try again, honey. I promise. I just thought you should kno-“
Before she can finish her sentence, Clarke opens the door and starts walking without even thinking about it, directly towards Bellamy's room. Her emotions are a mess. They're a mix of anger and empathy and sadness and fear and she doesn't even know what she's going to say to him when she throws his door open and walks into his room. The sudden noise catches him by surprise and he flinches while quickly turning to her. Somehow it's nice seeing something other than hate in his eyes, even just for a second. A moment later she sees his expression darkening again but she doesn't give him the chance to say anything.
„What the hell were you thinking?“, she yells and hates how shaky her voice sounds. „You can't just-“
„Was I not clear enough the last time we saw each other?“, he interrupts her. He looks like he could kill her at any moment, but she won't leave. Not this time.
„Yeah, you did. And maybe me showing up here makes it clear to you that I don't care.“ Clarke surprises herself when she says those words. This is the first time since she shot him that she's angry at him.
„Clarke, I swear to God, if you don't leave this room right now then I. Will. Kill. You.“
She almost takes a step backward but stops herself at the last second. Instead, she raises her chin and tries not to let her fear show.
„No, first you listen to me“, she says steadily. „I won't go before you promise that you will never hurt yourself again.“ He huffs at that. „You don't get the right to ask that, Clarke“, he says. „Not you.“
„Yeah, maybe“, she replies. „But you also don't get the right to just throw your life away like that.“
Bellamy shakes his head and opens his mouth to say something but Clarke starts speaking again before he can say anything. | 5b84385eb02a4d2ca8febdf7a08625a0 | ['4aa9b75eed6544e49155c84dd20de00e'] | „And Clarke...I don't want to be scared anymore.“
She's not quite sure where he's going with this so she just lets him keep talking.
„I got you back and then you died again and I was faced with the same regret as after Praimfaya. And I begged for a _third_ chance and I almost got it and then when your heart stopped right in front of me...“ Bellamy pauses. „I knew that if I could get you back, I couldn't leave anything unsaid to you ever again.“
„Bell, what are you talking about?“, she asks gently and he's silent for a few seconds.
„Clarke...I know that this might ruin something. That it might make things...weird. But you're going to die again, one day. Maybe it will be soon or maybe it won't be. But when you do, I need you to know.“
„Wha-“
„I love you.“
Clarke looks at him in shock, the surprise written all over her face. But she doesn't want to let herself think what she wants to just yet. Of course he loves her. She's always known that. Maybe that's all he means by it. The same love he loves all his friends with.
So she just says: „I love you, too“ and pretends it doesn't hurt to say it without him understanding the full meaning.
„No“, Bellamy whispers and takes another deep breath, preparing himself for what he's about to say next. „I'm _in_ love with you.“
She's not sure how long she just stares at him, the words repeating themselves in her head over and over and over again.
_I'm in love with you._
Bellamy smiles at her but a tear runs down his cheek. He looks relieved the words are finally out. So relieved there's barely any space left for the fear of her reaction.
She wants to tell him he doesn't need to be scared anymore, that she's in love with him, too, but she can't get out a single word. And so she pulls her hand away from his, puts it on his cheek and draws his face to hers.
When their lips meet, Bellamy makes a quiet noise of surprise but it quickly turns into almost a whimper. Clarke is pretty sure she does the same. His lips are warm on hers and her chest feels like it's going to burst open from joy. She's waited for this for such a long time. She can't remember what if feels like to not be consumed by all the love she feels for him.
They're both crying then and she's not sure how long they sit there for, just kissing and kissing. All she knows is she never wants to stop.
Eventually, they do pull apart, breathing heavily as they look into each other's eyes.
„Just so you know“, Clarke chokes out, trying to catch her breath. „I'm in love with you, too.“
Bellamy smiles again, the brightest smile she's ever seen on his face, and pulls her face back to his. She wants to kiss him again more than anything but then a thought crosses her mind that makes her stop.
„What about Echo?“
„We're not together anymore“, Bellamy replies. „I wouldn't have come here if we were. I promise.“
Now Clarke is smiling too and then she kisses him again and instead of crying they're both laughing this time and she doesn't think she's ever felt this happy in her life.
While they're kissing, she almost forgets about Josephine, and she almost feels like her body belongs to herself again. Even though they've never kissed before, it feels more familiar than anything she's felt since then. It feels like coming home.
He stays with her that night and she falls asleep in his arms and she doesn't feel scared anymore. And even though she doesn't ask him, she knows that he doesn't either. And she thinks if she died again right now, for the first time she'd die happy.
**Author's Note:**
> comments keep me motivated! |
cc196d035ad94f36a4097971423b9f9d | ['4ab1f596b82340168ba6960af77d1d51'] |
more adventurous
**Author's Note:**
> i made LINK to go along with this.
“Dr. Banner,” Tony reads. Bruce looks up from his book – _The God Delusion_. Clint keeps trying to pay him to read it in front of Cap. “Bopulu, Liberia, twenty-five-twelve two-thousand-five.”
Tony looks up from the sheaf of cardstock he’s holding in one hand. Bruce knows what it is, now, and settles back down on their bed, wincing a little as his back makes its discomfort known. He loves Tony, and he loves Tony’s sex drive, and he really loves that he’s having more sex in more positions than he actually thought were _possible_ six months ago, but he’s not exactly a spring chicken these days. He hadn’t exactly been kind to himself – well, ever, really, and it’s starting to show.
“I’d ask questions, but this sort of answers the when and where,” Tony says, gesturing with the cardstock. It’s one of the only sentimental items Bruce owns. “So, Liberia? Why Liberia?”
“There was a long period in my life where I closed my eyes and pointed somewhere on a map,” Bruce says. “And prayed it didn’t land in the middle of the Pacific.”
“What if it did?”
Bruce shrugs. “Go clockwise until I hit a country that might have something for me to do.” There was always something for him to do – there’s still always something for him to do, and he thinks Tony knows what he’s thinking, because he repeats, “So, why Liberia specifically?”, like he thinks Bruce is bullshitting him.
“I had some friends in MSF,” Bruce says. “Or Doctors Without Borders, I guess. One of them told me that they needed extra volunteers in... Sierra Leone, Liberia and I think southern India, around Christmastime. I was in Nepal at the time and had had my fill of the area for a while, and Sierra Leone is tough to get into on a good day, so. Liberia it was.”
“What did you do?”
Bruce determinedly doesn’t sigh. Tony doesn’t know these things, he knows that, and Tony’s asking out of curiosity, not out of being mean-spirited. It took Bruce a long time to get used to that – he’s still getting used to it.
“Everyone gets sick,” he says. “Especially little kids that don’t have any kind of access to vaccines or anything, or proper nutrition, or clean water. During Christmas week we were in a city, but otherwise it was sort of out in the field, trying to visit farms and villages.”
“How long were you there?”
“Four months.” Bruce straightens up a little. “I wanted to stay longer, but.” He shrugs again with one shoulder like _so it goes_. “Stuff happened.”
Tony is studying the picture again and Bruce, giving up, sighs and gets up, wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist from behind to rest his chin on his shoulder. It takes a little maneuvering, but once he does it, it’s surprisingly comfortable.
“Did it get cold there?”
“At night, yeah.” Bruce moves a little closer, makes himself a little more comfortable, and for just a moment – as he closes his eyes – he’s in the little house he and two of the other doctors shared, two young British guys, not even out of their twenties, and it’s hotter than hell until the sun sets. The insulated slicker jackets hadn’t been the most fashionable things in the world, but the fleece inside kept them from freezing their balls off and the noisy material outside kept the rain from working its way into their skin. “Cold and wet.”
He opens his eyes again, searching the picture like there might be something he hasn’t seen before. The Bruce in the picture is a little over six years younger and, to current-Bruce, looks about five times that.
“You don’t look much different,” Tony says, unexpectedly quietly, running the pad of his thumb gently over picture-Bruce’s face. “A little grey hair here and there, a little more of a beard. How old were you here?”
“Well, Mister Supergenius,” Bruce says, nuzzling into Tony’s neck a little, banishing most of his thoughts of coastal Africa, “if it’s 2012 now and I was born in 1976...”
“Smartass,” Tony grumbles.
“You like my smart ass.”
“I _love_ your smart ass,” Tony corrects, putting his hands on top of the ones Bruce has resting on his hips. Bruce really likes Tony’s hips – they’re not exactly _girlish_ , but there’s definitely sort of a shape to them. “Anyway, you would’ve been... what, Jesus, twenty-nine? The fact that you’re younger than me is an absolute crime and I refuse to acknowledge it.”
“I was twenty-nine _then_ ,” Bruce says, mostly into the underside of Tony’s jaw. “I’m sure as hell not twenty-nine now.”
“You could fool me, you randy old goat,” Tony says, but arches his neck obligingly to the side anyways.
“You’re lucky I like you so much, _randy old goat_ would get anyone else thrown out of bed in a heartbeat.” Bruce is moving from the underside of Tony’s jaw to more towards his ear, now, and Bruce Banner may have a great many faults but an untalented mouth is not one of them.
“We’re kind of in the middle of the bedroom right now.” Tony’s using his _I’m always right_ voice.
“Yeah, like,” Bruce starts, and damn it, he’s more distracted than Tony is right now. “A metaphorical bed, since I’m about ninety-six percent sure you’ve fucked me everywhere you possibly can as far as this room goes.”
“And Cap’s room,” Tony supplies helpfully. “And Tasha’s.”
“Shh,” Bruce says, because Jesus Christ, if there’s anybody he doesn’t want knowing that he had sex in their room, it’s Natasha. “Do you want to delve into my private life more or are you satisfied?”
“Yes, Bruce, please bring up starving African kids while your hand is four inches away from my cock.”
“I’ve been asked to do stranger things.”
“First starving African kids, then the weird kinky acts your previous, woefully inadequate lovers have asked you to perform for them,” Tony says, which, wow, projecting much? But Bruce doesn’t say anything, just takes the cardstock out of his hand and sets it on the table and turns him around for an overdue kiss. If Tony has more questions, he can ask them later. | 3a12fc55f93947cb9739cde5fafe95f7 | ['4ab1f596b82340168ba6960af77d1d51'] | “Oh my God,” he breathes. Ray winds one hand in his hair to pull his head back, mouthing hot and demanding at his neck, biting at the spot underneath his jaw, and Mikey realizes halfway through that he’s sucking a mark into his skin. The younger man moans out loud at that, dragging his nails down Ray’s back. Finally Ray kisses him again—it’s what Mikey’s sort of been waiting for—and Mikey takes that chance to lace his fingers in Ray’s thick hair and pull a little roughly until the angle suits him, and Ray makes a satisfied noise in his throat, the hand still on his hip moving up to tug at his belt buckle. He’s apparently got much better motor coordination than Mikey, because he gets it done in about two seconds and pops open the button of his jeans right after, breaks the kiss for a second to mumble _of all the nights to wear fucking button-fly jeans_ , stifles Mikey’s breathless laugh with another hard kiss—
And Mikey moans into his mouth, because it’s a little too rough, a little too insistent but it’s _exactly_ what he wants—
“Is this what you thought about,” Ray murmurs, breath hot over the machine-gun beat of Mikey’s pulse, “every time you were staring at my hands—”
“Fuck,” Mikey says intelligently, and has enough awareness to be vaguely embarrassed by the amount of noise he’s making. His hips keep rolling into Ray’s hand, and—it’s tight and fast, exactly how he does it himself but a million times better because this is what he thinks about when _he_ does it, only his imagination is unfortunately not vivid enough to come up with this, being pinned against a wall by Ray Toro in fucking Phoenix, being able to feel where Ray’s heart is beating because they’re pressed so close together—
Or maybe that’s his own—he can’t think about it now, can’t think about anything other than _yes_ and _God_ and _Ray, please_ —and he says that out loud, and the world goes white and staticky for just a second, and he can’t think at all. He’s aware of Ray kissing underneath his jaw, the spot that aches vaguely like a blooming bruise, and aware of Ray stepping away for a moment to wipe his hand off on something that looks a lot like one of Frank’s shirts.
“Ray,” Mikey says, a little bit weakly, and does up his jeans, foregoing the belt.
“I’m gonna go hang out in the studio,” Ray says, glancing at him, and there’s a definite grin hovering around his—oh, God, his _mouth_ , Jesus, Mikey is doomed. “With, you know, the couch and stuff. You should come with.”
Mikey is never, ever going to say no to ‘you should come with’ again.
\--
“Ray,” Gerard says. It’s late the next morning, ten or eleven, and Ray and Mikey have both finally come staggering into the bus. “What the fuck happened to your neck?”
There’s a pause. Frank and Bob both turn to look. Ray reaches up, running the pads of his first three fingers over four long, evenly spaced scratches on the right side of his neck.
And Frank _crows_.
“Toro finally figured it out,” he says. “Cough the fuck up, Bryar.” |
e974f30dc43344e193b2d62632f88bcc | ['4ac0add7060f4398bf3d4a7666a2f9da'] | “I don’t own them, but I am the only one that they are all loyal to.” Dean approached the bed, settling next to Lucifer, curious about what Lucifer meant. When Lucifer realised they were waiting for him to keep talking he elaborated, “God wanted to kill them because he couldn’t control them. They aren’t meant to be controlled but they will be loyal to you if you are good to them. So I rescued a pregnant one and so the species lived on. He got so angry at me for that… he punished me for it…”
“Hey, that’s a really good thing you did.” Sam squeezed Lucifer’s hand, trying to offer some comfort, seeing Dean doing the same. Lucifer smiled for them but it didn’t reach his eyes. He tried to change the subject, making them tell him about their hunt instead until Bobby and Adam brought dinner upstairs. As Lucifer looked around at the humans, his brother and the dog all enjoying their meals he began to feel part of a family in a way he hadn’t since the angels had turned away from him.
12. Of Friendship and Alphas (6x07/6x08)
Dean was washing dishes while Adam sat with a beer at the table in the kitchen. It was past midnight but neither of them were tired. In the other room Bobby was sleeping in front of the TV and Gabriel was sat on the porch, throwing a ball for his dog. “Sam’s been up there for a while, what do you think they’re talking about?” Adam wondered, angling himself in his chair to face Dean.
“No idea. I think Sam’s coming to terms with his connection to Lucifer, or he’s befriending him. I know he’s been really concerned about him lately. I don’t blame him – Lucifer went through something nobody should go through.” Dean stopped focussing on the pot in the water to look at Adam.
“It’s weird though isn’t it?” Adam got up and grabbed a towel to help dry the dishes Dean had already cleaned. “I mean, we – well you – spent like a year fighting Lucifer and other angels, and now we’re taking care of him.”
Dean shrugged, “Thanks. And more than a year, but it is weird. Lucifer is the devil, he’s supposed to be the all evil… but angels are dicks and God is clearly a total asshole so maybe Lucifer could be like us.”
“What do you mean?” Adam tilted his head, trying to figure out how an archangel could be like his big brothers.
“Sam and I have been wanted fugitives to the FBI before for massive crimes, because they didn’t know we were hunting monsters and saving people,” Dean went back to trying to clean the pot that definitely needed replacing. It was soothing to do normal housework after spending so much time hunting and doubting and feeling like a jackass for that doubting.
“So you think Lucifer might have been good and God just… made him do things or lied about him to make him look evil? That actually makes sense – or at least it helps me piece together what happened when Michael and Lucifer met in that field. Why raise the horsemen though?” Adam frowned.
Dean thought about it for a moment, trying to think over everything that had happened since he and Sam released their new friend, “Because he had no other choice. The angels were breaking seals anyway before he was released, and manipulating Sam and I into breaking them. Maybe he had to do it, because he released them one at a time slowly. We had time to kill each horseman. Except Death but Death isn’t really a bad guy, he’s kinda necessary, part of nature and all that crap.”
Adam hummed, turning away to open the cupboards, starting to put things away, “I get what you’re saying but why would that mean he had no choice?”
“Well Lucifer wanted to see his brother, right? He wanted to talk to Michael, or wanted to talk him down. He just needed Sam so that if Michael didn’t listen to reason then he’d be able to defend himself.” Dean was still working through it in his mind, speaking slowly, “And he could have done a lot worse. People died painlessly when he killed them. He even came face to face with Castiel and didn’t kill him…” Dean looked at Adam again, “He tried to keep Castiel out of the fight, almost like he was protecting him because he didn’t want to kill his brother.”
“Didn’t he kill Gabriel?” Adam sipped his beer.
“Yeah but that was self-defence apparently, Gabriel came up behind him with a knife and Lucifer reacted. He felt guilty about that though. I mean I am pissed that he caused Meg to kill Jo and Ellen but I guess he didn’t anticipate them even being there. If it was just Sam and I nobody would have died, well… the town was dead but nobody looked like they’d had a painful death. And they’re happy in heaven now, probably with Ash.”
Adam nodded, accepting Dean’s theory, “Isn’t the Bible stuff written by God anyway? So God wanted all that death and destruction?” He thought back to the graveyard, “Lucifer said something about walking off the chessboard, not fighting Michael.”
“Son of a bitch,” Dean sighed. “All that time we were fighting Lucifer, when we were on the same side. He was just doing it the wrong way.”
“You think he could have been reasoned with then, and shown a better way to fight?”
“Yeah, if I hadn’t shot him in the face,” Dean pointed out. He put the pot on the rack to dry and pulled the plug. “I need a drink.”
“World feels upside down,” Adam agreed. He joined Dean at the table, the two brothers clinking their beers together and drinking. | e45f2041a76e4f5bac59fe0d10c73fe5 | ['4ac0add7060f4398bf3d4a7666a2f9da'] | “You’re not the only one Cas. Chuck is God now? So why the hell didn’t he stop this sooner? And- and why couldn’t he just call Michael off? Lucifer didn’t need to be locked in hell.” Sam was still caught up on how Lucifer had acted when the big showdown was about to happen. The devil didn’t want the apocalypse, he’d asked Michael to stop it with him. Surely God could have just taken Lucifer to heaven and worked things out with the family he’d left behind. So many deaths could have been avoided.
“Wait, Sam are you defending _Lucifer?_ Boy I don’t like the fact that God’s been sat under your noses this whole time or how this whole mess just suddenly seems to have gone away but you wanna spring the devil from hell again? Less than 24 hours ago you wanted to lock him back up.” Bobby took a step towards Sam while Dean and Adam crossed their arms in an identical fashion and glared. It was Castiel that encouraged Sam to continue with a curious expression, wondering if maybe that was who he thought it was asking Castiel to save them.
“Bobby I was in his head, I could hear everything he thought and feel everything he felt. When he was stood in front of Michael he asked him to stop this, he wanted to ‘walk off the chessboard’ instead of killing his brother and destroying half the world when he didn’t even have a reason to. He wanted to stop God’s plan. I can’t help feeling Michael was the issue, and that whatever God’s done... Cas is right. It feels wrong.” Sam could see understanding in Bobby’s eyes and disbelief in Dean’s. Everyone could see Dean gearing up to argue with Sam when Adam stepped in to support the other two.
“I think Sam’s onto something. I mean, I’m bias sure because Zachariah was a dick and Michael was calling the shots, but I saw Lucifer trying to reason with him and Michael just wouldn’t listen. He was so obsessed with the fact that God wanted him to kill Lucifer, screw the half of the planet that got destroyed in the crossfire.”
Bobby could see an inevitable argument so he diffused the situation, “Even if Lucifer did turn out to be on our side in regard to the apocalypse in the end, and even if everything he did was so he could I dunno, meet Michael and convince him to stop God’s plan, it wouldn’t matter now. You heard the guy, he’s trapped somewhere he can’t escape from. So right now I suggest we deal with the thing right in front of us. Adam is back from the dead and the apocalypse is done with. So what are we gonna do next?”
Lucifer choked on the fluid in his throat, forced to swallow when his father refused to remove his spent dick until he did so. He let his head hit the floor with a bang, welcoming the black spots in his vision and the dizziness that distracted him from the pain in his ass as demon number fuck-knows-what shoved into the abused hole. He knew they hadn’t used lube so the squelching of blood and semen made him shudder in disgust. There was no point begging for mercy now as another demon gripped his hair and forced his head up for a turn in his mouth, God’s actions apparently inspiring them to do worse. He blacked out about the time the kind demon left the room.
Meg had had enough. This was wrong and she wasn’t about to watch her personal God suffer like this. The only people that could help now were Winchesters and she was damn well gonna make them listen. What kind of father did this? What kind of God put their son through such torment then returned only to rape him themselves? No kind that she wanted to be associated with. If she exposed what he’d done maybe they’d be willing to help.
“I want to be hunter. With Sam and Dean – the family business right? And Sam did say with an attitude like mine I’d fit in around here.” Adam grabbed a shotgun from the side. “You can give me a crash course and I’ll learn on the job. Make me a Winchester.”
3. Demon with a Conscience
“You wanna be a hunter? Kid you know how dangerous this gig is right? Why wouldn’t you want to get back to a normal life?” Bobby argued. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to teach Adam a few things but to make him a full hunter wouldn’t be fair.
“Bobby, I have nothing for me in a normal life. My Mom and I were chowed down on by a couple of monsters. This is my second chance and I want to use it to make a difference and fight any freak that decides to make a meal out of innocent people. And besides, Sam and Dean are my brothers. If I have to pick between a crappy life on my own and the guys that risked their lives trying to save my stupid, sorry ass, I know what I want. I want to be a hunter with my brothers.” Adam made a compelling case. Dean and Sam shared a look, having a private conversation, before Dean nodded his head and heaved a sigh. |
c207b09397ca4a368f2925642c3c5259 | ['4ac19e178f8846348da6f5f55e02af19'] | Peter wondered briefly if that was who Wade talked to. “Well, where do they wanna go?” he asked, and he wasn’t quite sure if he was allowed to smile or not. He couldn’t help the small one that snuck through. He knew that Wade heard voices, but honestly, if it wasn’t actively hurting anyone right now, he didn’t see why he shouldn’t let Wade interact with them openly, since he tended to do it anyway. He didn’t want to encourage anything negative in Wade’s life, but he also wanted Wade to be able to trust him, and it would ruin their day and everything they’d built up to this point if he shot down Wade sharing his personal details.
Wade seemed a surprised that he was asked about the opinions of his head-voices, and he wide-eyed looked left and right. “You hear that, boys? Your opinion is required.” A beat. “Okay, no, you know what, you don’t get a say; your choices suck hairy, unwashed testes.” Well. That was certainly an image, and Peter was left thinking about it. Gross. Wade looked back to his left. “Your chance, and don’t fuck this one up for us.” Another beat. Wade cocked his head a little bit like a spaniel and considered the unheard (at least for everyone but Wade) suggestion. Then he glanced over at Peter. “You wanna eat shitty, cheap, breakfast-all-day kinda food?”
That sounded like it wasn’t going to cost a lot of money, so Peter was honestly up for it. “Sure,” he said, and the answer was accompanied by a small nod.
“IHOP it is!” Wade hollered with an arm up, but no one paid him any mind, save for quick looks and avoiding the overly-excited man’s berth. This was, once again, going to take nearly every penny Peter had left in his wallet, but he hadn’t needed to go grocery shopping this week because of what Wade had given him. He lived with a small kitchen that had incredibly limited counter-space, a stove that would probably make aunt May feel faint, and a mini fridge he picked up from a Craigslist ad. It froze everything inside of it, including the milk in the bottom of the door. Because of this, he couldn’t get much while shopping that wasn’t non-perishable. The care bag he’d been given was a freaking Godsend.
(He was also secretly happy that they weren’t going back to that coffee shop so soon after the scene they’d caused, even if he was pretty sure the workers had seen far worse.)
They found an IHOP pretty close by and the line wasn’t even horrible. Since it was around lunchtime, there were quite a few groups out and eating, most of them dressed in their church clothes, obviously having just left and had decided to go out to eat before going home. Wade shifted his weight and gave off general signs of being anxious, which made Peter cast him a glance and they made eye contact. Peter smiled a little. Wade stared back and his fidgeting died down to a minimal amount. The arachnid-hybrid wondered if the other man was nervous about being out and about without a mask on, or if he just didn’t enjoy being around people. Either option was a sad one, but Peter could understand it to an extent. He obviously couldn’t wrap his mind around living with Wade’s skin condition, but he himself wasn’t the biggest fan of large crowds. There was just too much noise and movement. It messed with his senses and his mind tried to keep up with all over it, sometimes winding up overwhelmed and unable to properly cope.
Once they were seated, each of them taking the opposite side of the booth from the other, the host left them with menus and informed them who their server would be and then darted off again.
It seemed that the change of scenery had taken away their ability to easily fall into conversation, and Peter swallowed, going for his phone again, while Wade tapped the table. “You got the update yet?” the Merc asked, and the brunet glanced up to his dining partner. “You know, the one where you walk with ‘em and they give you candy that way?” Wade went on, after having not gotten a response.
Peter’s face lit up with recognition, but he shook his head. “I don’t have enough space for the update,” he admitted and laughed a little at himself.
Wade looked appalled. “Seriously? How much space is even on your phone?” he asked, leaning forward.
Peter passed the device back and forth between his hands and shrugged, waiting for the app to open again. “About eight gigs?” he guessed, and then he pushed up his glasses as a nervous reflex. “I mean, I could just buy an SD card and get more space that way, but,” he explained, but he trailed off at the end, leaving it open. _But SD cards cost money_ , money he definitely wouldn’t be able to even dream about after this lunch date. “So you got the update, then?” he asked, turning the conversation back to Wade.
The heavily-clothed man leaned back and nodded, pulling up the app on his own mobile. “Yup!” he informed. “Got me a fuckin’ fish on a leash,” he said with a wide grin and turned his phone so Peter could see it. His partner was a Magikarp named FlipFlop, which made Peter snicker. He could just imagine that poor thing being dragged on a leash behind Wade’s game avatar. “I will one day obtain his Angry Rage Noodle evolution and annihilate all Gyms.”
“I heard they nerfed Vaporeon,” Peter said as he scrolled through his list of caught monsters. “Good thing I evolved mine beforehand. Next to Arcanine, that one’s my strongest.” | db4f588aaf56463799d1649c2713ee18 | ['4ac19e178f8846348da6f5f55e02af19'] | Peter leaned back in his chair, which caused it to tilt and creak loudly, and he stared at his computer screen. He felt like there was something hot and heavy resting in his stomach, and it was making him nauseous. What _had_ Deadpool been through? He felt like the MIA portion of the Wikia was where something really, really bad had happened to the Merc. To try to distract himself, he wound up looking up Spider-Man in the search bar.
It seemed that all of the eerily personal data had been taken from the S.H.I.E.L.D. files that had been dumped online back when the clusterfuck with Hydra infiltrating the highest ranked government facility came to a climax. It actually hadn’t been too long before the Sokovia Accords had been the most trending search-slash-hashtag on every social media outlet around the world. Peter remembered that part pretty vividly, because he had been scared out of his wits that he would be roped into something branching off of that mess. It had been the topic of hot debate for a few months. Where would the laws stop, and would they wind up affecting every superhero out there? Jameson had printed several long, angry front-page articles about how such measures should be applied to Spider-Man, and every other ‘masked vigilante freak’ out there (even though the CEO of the Daily Bugle had shown his support for Captain America throughout, even going so far as to begging the super soldier to sign the Accords). Peter had lost a lot of sleep during those weeks.
Thankfully, no one with an account on the Wikia had figured out Spider-Man’s secret identity, and there was mostly just security footage of the arachnid-powered Super, and guesses as to where in New York he lived. Okay, so that much was really worrying, but at least his face remained a complete mystery, even to the now non-existent S.H.I.E.L.D..
That night, Peter stumbled upon a news article that Facebook suggested to him about a Pokémon Go dating website. Before that, he’d been messing around on his phone until he fell asleep. The website appeared to cost money, but only after the second date was successfully put together by the site. Maybe it would serve as a distraction for his mind, give him something else to think about when it came to the game app. Besides, he’d been purposefully off the market for a long time. Maybe meeting up with someone could help him more than he knew… It didn’t have to turn into anything serious.
He set up his profile, and his thumb hovered around the “what are you looking for?” option for nearly a minute. Finally, he allowed himself to say both men and women. He turned his phone off, and rolled over onto his side. Then he shoved one arm up under his pillow and finally got comfortable in the fetal position.
The next morning, he rolled himself up, went to the bathroom, got himself a bowl of cereal, groggily ate that, brushed his teeth, showered, and then checked his phone while his hair was drying.
He’d actually completely forgotten about signing up for a dating website until he saw the e-mail that let him know his profile had been approved by an admin and he already had a list of matches. He vaguely regretted the spur-of-the-moment decision from the night before, but it wouldn’t hurt to just _look_ at his matches, now would it?
The color drained from his face when he saw the name Wade Wilson as a match who had already green-lit Peter as a date. The photo was one of a very fucked up face with a similarly disfigured hand covering part of it. A baseball cap resting under a pulled-up hood gave just enough shadow to the horror that was this guy’s face. Peter dropped his phone.
He was panicking, he was _completely panicking_. That picture was a now-permanent fixture in the back of his eyes, and his heart was beating a thousand times a minute. There was literally _no way_ that this could be happening. There was over twenty-million people living in the state of New York, and _Deadpool_ was the one to get a match on Peter, who had just had a profile up for a few _hours_? His hands were trembling.
It might not have been Deadpool, though. ‘Wilson’ was a common last name, and ‘Wade’ wasn’t exactly unique, either. He picked up his mobile and stared at the photo again. The man looked like he’d been in a fire and had his skin absolutely destroyed in the process. Peter felt sick looking at the profile, but he also felt a little pity. It was unquestionably shitty to judge someone as being ugly just because something obviously horrific happened to them, wasn’t it? Even if he did look a bit like Freddy Krueger with a different face structure. His gaze lingered on the man’s eyes, and it was obvious that the tight smile on his lips didn’t come close to reaching them. Peter wondered if he’d fought with himself over whether or not to join based on the requirement of needing a photograph of himself. He looked like he was forcing himself to even take the picture.
Aunt May would have hit him upside the head if his inner commentary on this guy passed his lips in her presence.
Okay, but seriously, it was statistically impossible for this to be Deadpool. It was just dumb luck alone that it was the same name. ...Right? He went back to the article of Wade Winston Wilson on the superheroes Wikia. |
947f5dfb037c4f00af69f942f8e86095 | ['4ad532f56f124a638f7e631a8b3b31ad'] | Robert held her. "She means nothing to me. You know that, don't you? She's an alpha, just like me, how can I want her when I have you? Mary, please, don't do this."
Mary cried into his shoulder. "I love you."
Yuri changed it over. Ah, a news channel. Surely, that couldn't be as mindbogglingly terrible?
The news anchor leaned forward into a well practised pose of seriousness. "Omega/omega relationships are not damaging to mental health, according to a study by Tokyo University. I'm here with Dr Yamamoto, who led the study, and Katie Jones, omega rights activist. Dr Yamamoto, how can we trust the results of this study?"
The doctor cleared his throat. "Well, there have been various surveys over the years about this sort of thing, but never on this scale. We studied 5,000 omega couples and, with allowances made for variables (suppressants, mental health issues already raised by participants, etc) we were able to conclude that were no abnormalities in hormones."
"You say that some participants already had mental health issues?" the journalist asked.
The omega rights activist cut in. "Mental health issues are more common than some of us think. I don't think it is logical to suggest that the omegas in this study due to their relationships or attraction. That sort of suggestion-"
"Quite right," the doctor said, "We had to consider that possibility, but found no correlation. For those interested, there is a review of omega mental health from 2014, I believe, that covered that topic in much more detail."
The news anchor nodded. "I see. Miss Jones, what is your take on the study?"
"I'm glad that science is finally backing up what we have said all along," she said, practically glaring at the camera, "Omegas do not have to be with an alpha to be healthy and it's true the other way around. I'd argue that is more damaging to fight who we really are, and what we really feel."
Yuri tuned it off. He closed his eyes and sleep take him, easily.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Chapter 4 & 5 (last one unless I get carried away) might take a bit longer than expected because uni work is up my ass
4. Communication
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Communication is key in healthy relationships. Otabek is honest, Yuri is like a blunt axe and Victor can't believe Yuuri is real.
The handcuffs were surprisingly cosy against his bare wrist. There were goosebumps on his arms. He shivered.
Victor was fastened to the bed post, shirtless. His jeans were still on, that was the least comfortable thing especially since Yuuri was completely naked and touching himself.
"I could leave you like this," the evil omega said.
"Please don't," Victor begged. His one unbound hand reached out. "I promise to be good."
Yuuri unzipped the alpha's jeans. Victor kept his hips glued to the mattress.
The omega reached for the bottle of lube. Victor's heart pounded.
"I've only ever done this to myself," Yuuri said, preparing his fingers, "Let me know what feels good for you, Victor."
"I've done it to myself a few times, but never very much."
Yuuri ran his fingers along the rim.
"That's wonderful."
Yuuri giggled. "We've only just started."
The omega pushed just a bit of his finger inside. Victor breathed steadily.
"You're doing so well, Victor."
"Vitya," he told the omega, "Please."
"Vitya," Yuuri repeated, "Do you feel ok?"
"M-more lube, please."
Yuuri added more. "Sorry. I'm used to... I get wet easily."
Victor melted into the pillow. He couldn't look any more, not after that quickly mumbled comment.
The omega added another finger. Victor moaned at the stretch. Yuuri played with him, stretching him but never enough, and moving his fingers but never fast enough.
"T-the vibrator," the alpha said, "Please. Yuuri, I need more."
"Be good and wait."
"Yuuri," he whined.
The omega tutted. "I should gag you as well, since you can't be good."
Victor's dick twitched.
"Really?" Yuuri said, curling his fingers inside Victor, "You want that?"
"Fuck, yes."
Even if it meant Yuuri leaving him for a moment, it would be worth it. Yuuri found the tie they had used before and wrapped it around Victor's mouth.
"Tell me if it gets too much," Yuuri said, trying it, "Remember, only I can remove it. No touching. No talking."
Victor raised an eyebrow.
"Er, you can... Smack the bed? If it gets too much? Is that ok?"
Victor nodded. Yuuri pushed his fingers back inside the alpha's hole. He was rougher, was it the addition of the gag that was driving him mad?
Yuuri's fingers moved, in and out, pushing Victor to the point of madness.
"I'm getting the vibrator. Stay there."
Victor rolled his eyes. Yuuri smacked his thigh.
"Such an attitude problem," the omega said, caressing the red spot, "I'll have to fix that."
Yuuri added the vibrator. It was only slightly thicker than his fingers. Victor whined for more.
"I'm going to make you come once before I fuck you. I want you gone when I'm inside you."
He turned the vibrator on.
Victor squirmed.
"You're so pretty," the omega said, stroking Victor's cock, "Does it feel good, Vitya?"
He nodded slowly, then his head fell to the side.
Yuuri pulled out the vibrator. Victor struggled against the handcuff. The omega pushed it in and out, slow and steady, still stroking Victor's leaking cock.
"Aren't you going to come for me, Vitya? Don't you want to?"
Victor raised his hips frantically.
Yuuri pushed him down on the bed. "Naughty."
Victor's muffled moans were music to Yuuri's ears. The omega smiled, smug.
"So pretty for me," Yuuri said.
The alpha finished in Yuuri's hand with a groan. Yuuri stroked Victor's cock lightly, dragging out the orgasm. Victor's head tilted back, showing off his neck. The vibrator was still inside him, though the omega had turned down the setting. | 108c3290303e470aa7f7e6f546695351 | ['4ad532f56f124a638f7e631a8b3b31ad'] | “We’ve got a big match with Nekoma coming up. This is prep,” the coach said and she wondered if he had noticed their little interaction, “So, you wanna be the manager or something?”
And on that note the game slowed down. Or kind of stopped altogether.
The libero ran up to them with sparkles in his eyes, “We’re getting another manager?! We’re blessed!”
Kaya took a step back and shook her head, “I’m too busy for that. Sorry. But volleyball looks cool… Erm, maybe I could come watch you guys, sometime?”
There was something about these oddities she liked. She felt at ease.
Shimizu said, “That would be nice.”
The coach sighed and was about to tell at the team but Tsukishima beat him to it, “Are we gonna practice or what?”
They were practicing receives. It looked difficult. The shorter boy, Shimizu said his name was Hinata, had red hands from hitting the ball so much.
The coach commented, “He’s not great with recieves. Hell, he’s not even good. But he can jump.”
Her eyes widened, “Like basketball!”
Her exclamation gained a few looks and she explained, “Ah, my mother played basketball a lot.”
“Can you jump?” Hinata asked, the rest of the team packing up, ready to go home. But he had boundless energy.
She glanced at Shimizu, seeking guidance but the manager shook her head. Kaya shrugged, “I don’t really. Um, I pose?”
“Pose?” the boy struck a few of his own, flexing his muscles.
“Yes. Exactly like that,” she dead panned.
Tsukishima snorted, “Don’t quit your day job, shrimp.”
“Eh? Was it that bad?” Hinata asked, downtrodden.
Kaya’s lips twitched, “It was terrible. Please stick to volleyball.”
Hinata was lost for words, “Oi, Kageyama, was that a compliment or an insult? I don’t get it.”
The setter pulled his team mate away, “Just help us tidy up already, geez.”
After saying goodbye to the team, Kaya left the gym. Heels back on. She rubbed her hands together and zipped up her jacket.
Under a street lamp, outside the school, was a man in a familiar black hoodie.
“Shit,” she cursed.
They made eye contact. She took a step forward. She applied lip gloss. He didn’t take a single photo.
“Double shit,” Kaya whispered to herself.
Behind her the team were getting ready to leave the gym.
She had a few minutes to decide.
Option A - walk towards stalker, head held high and pray he doesn’t do anything.
Option B - call dad. Nope, scratch that. He sent a text saying he’d be out late.
Option C - go back to the volleyball team.
“Option C it is,” she said and turned around only to bump into Yamaguchi.
“Option what?” he asked. He’d changed into regular clothes. She missed the uniform a little. It made him look more confident.
Kaya ran her fingers through her hair, “Nothing. I was just thinking, do you guys want to walk home together?”
“Yeah, sure, I was gonna play some video games,” he smiled and stuttered, “D-do you wanna hang out, too?”
She nodded enthusiastically, “What games do you play?”
“Mostly adventure but-”
“Who’s the stalker?” Tsukishima walked up behind his friend and nodded at Mr Hoodie.
She laughed, “Stalker? At the school? Yamaguchi, are you popular?”
Tsukishima flicked her forehead, “Shut up. You can show off your legs to me but you can deal with some creep? Pathetic.”
He smirked at her. Normally she really enjoyed that smirk. But at that moment it just pissed her off and for once she didn’t feel like hiding it, “Fuck you.”
Yamaguchi tried to calm them, “Ok guys, why don’t we just go and-”
“No!” she poked Tsukishima in the chest with her sharpened fake nails, “That stalker is weird and creepy and wrong. You guys-... I thought you guys were nice! So don’t say that stuff to me! It’s not the same thing and you know it!”
“Better,” he ruffled her hair.
Her hand slumped back to her side, “What?”
“You look pathetic when you’ve given up,” he said, “Also, you didn’t deny that you showed off your legs to me.”
Perhaps any other time she’d have blushed but the cute romper, heels and squeak of encouragement from Yamaguchi gave her strength, “You liked the view, don’t lie.”
“Like I’d enjoy your lanky stubbly legs.”
“Sure, you weren’t checking me out in there or anything,” she snorted. Kaya shrugged him off, she needed the last say in this. He had the unnerving ability to lift her spirits and crush them at the same time. And one of the few things she was certain of, her beauty, wasn’t something she was willing to gamble in his fickle hands.
Yamaguchi looked back and forth between them like a ping pong match, “So are we...going or?”
It was the first time she saw her stalker’s face up close. He was clean shaven and had an almost healed acne scar on his forehead and dark brown eyes. He looked so very ordinary.
“Are you her boyfriend?” the stalker asked, his eyes flickering between the two of them and Yamaguchi who was scratching his head, standing a little distance away, “He’s… really tall.”
“Yes, he is,” she confirmed, “Also, stop stalking me. It’s creepy.”
“But I… I love you,” the stalker reached for her but stopped at Tsukishima’s glare.
Kaya grabbed her ‘boyfriend’s’ hand, “Sorry, I like my boyfriend too much. Please move on.”
Before she could lose courage, she pulled Tsukishima away, towards her home and he didn’t resist.
Yamaguchi shrugged and followed them, paying little mind to the stalker who had started crying.
Kaya tightened her gip on his hand, “I did it.”
“Ahuh,” he grunted and put his headphones on.
“I did it!” she said and bounced around, “We did it!”
Yamaguchi was the voice of reason, “Er, shouldn’t you tell the police?”
Kaya unlocked her phone, “Yeah, I’ll be home alone for a while as well…” |
3eccb655bff7485fa5223ad6fc5fe561 | ['4ae3b9c2b23e45b68a299ae1e6746173'] | He turned back to normal and quickly put everything on and let go of his concentration again. Yep, the uniform was now transparent, just like his other outfit. Which was weird considering he didn’t make anything he picked up like that- so why only clothing? Not deciding to question the strange logic of his _stranger_ quirk, he changed out of the uniform and hung it up again, changing into some All Might shirt his Mom had left along with all his decorations.
Another thing he noticed is that he didn’t even need to become human to change the clothing- he’d put it on and suddenly it's transparent. Really, that was just plain weird. He’d put it in his notebooks later for sure, but right now he wanted to relax. He still couldn't sleep- not as a ghost anyways. And because he couldn’t hold his normal self long enough to fall asleep he was stuck awake all night still.
That was okay, he could still rest his mind in otherways.
He crossed his legs in mid air, floating just above his bed while he stared at the only blank wall in his room. He figured passing time by remembering wasn't too hard, and sometimes he could trigger his memories. Other times they came at random like the other day with Eraserhead.
He didn’t really feel anything coming to him so it’d probably be a long night. Ugh. He could still waste plenty of time by starting at the wall- he’d watch youtube or something but he didn’t want to wake anyone up and it’s not like he could wear headphones for very long, his head would hurt.
Even if it was _ just _ his head tangible, it’d start to ache. So he just practiced keeping just his body tangible, leaving his hands and head ghostly. It increased his time even without his head and hands, just keeping it up got him more time it seemed. His measly 10 minutes became almost an hour in no time, and the head and hand aches were delayed until his time was up so every night he’d practice.
He just wanted to be normal again at this point, to eat sleep and dream like he used to. He never had anyone to tell other than Mom about his dreams; they were always fuzzy visually but he remembered exactly what was said and what happened perfectly.
\---
It had been another long night but that way okay, his time was up a few more minutes and that’s what counted. At this rate he’d be perfectly normal for an entire school day next week! That thought only made him more determined, and for the beginning of class he kept himself normal for the entire period and had a break between the first to the second- that’s when he felt his hands pulse and quickly slipped back into a safe intangible form.
It was the end of the day and they were all training for internships that were coming up in about two weeks. Izuku was going to be training under Aizawa, due to convenience and the fact he still had some catching up to do in some other classes. Apparently Shinsou was also going to be training with them, so that was something to look forward to for sure. Izuku hadn’t really talked to him, but he seemed similar to Todoroki- cold and cut off from most of the class like he didn’t care for friends.
Sure they were here to be heroes, but heroes like Aizawa had made friends from his high school so why couldn't he?
Either way Izuku wanted to become friends with him. From what he’d heard, Shinsou was angry because his quirk wasn't seen as super heroic. Most of the class didn’t mind him but they still felt wary around him with his dark mood. It was a two way street with miscommunication, and Izuku wanted to help him.
So, while sitting alone in his room practicing yet again, Izuku devised a plan for a way to do that before the internship.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Boom.
>
> That's your gift hope you liked it! I feel like i did better writing it all in one shot then editing instead of writing a paragraph then editing then coming back two days later. I'll be writing the next chapters all in one shot :D
>
> But anyways, thanks so much for coming along for this ride- it's my first fic and there's so much love ya'll don't know.
> <3
>
> P.s. I said there would be memes, and yes it's cringy af I'm sorry lmao :w:
8. Fluffy bun bun’s get yummy apples (Bonus Chapter)
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> A short snip of some in between fluff I didn't add!
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> WE GOT 10,000 HITS!!!!!! ༼☯﹏☯༽ ⸍⚙̥ꇴ⚙̥⸌
>
> Thank you all so much!!! I'm so happy you have no idea!
>
> I know this bonus chap is pretty short (It's like 600 words oof) but I'm not the best at fluff??? Idk I have a hard time writing it compared to plot stuff :/
>
> But don't worry your pretty lil heads because chapter 9 is under editing and will be out soon! (now it's out now lmao)
Shouta watched as his newest addition laughing with the other problem children in his class (except Bakugou). All of them seemingly old friends who just met up after _ oh _ so long. He was glad the class didn’t alienate another new addition; Shinsou Hitoshi being his second newest student. Hopefully Midoriya could break the ice with him while they were playing catch up with him in a few weeks.
(Hell, the kid would probably have the loner around his pinkie by the end of the _ week) _ | 3a25b109dcf749b8bcb55772c358bb91 | ['4ae3b9c2b23e45b68a299ae1e6746173'] | >
> Thank you so much for reading, have a good day!
Midoriya Inko had been thrilled at the news. She had been called into U.A. just last night and it had something to do with her baby’s case! She was worried but by the sound of the principal's voice she felt like it was going to be something good.
She just wished he actually told her what was happening.
She rushed down the stairs to the train station, swiping her card on the gate to get in. Inko was a proud mother on a mission and it must have shown because people moved out of her way. After the ten minute ride she quickly transferred to the last line headed to the heart of the city, and leaving her only a two minute walk to U.A. campus.
She was greeted by a man in all black with shaggy hair and dark eyes. He introduced himself as Aizawa and lead her to the principal's office.
She sat down anxiously waiting for the meeting to start. Her baby had been missing for almost a month now, and suddenly U.A. of all places calls? It was most definitely strange. All Inko wanted was to see her son again and help him for real this time. Not ignore the warnings she was given thinking he would grow out of it, or he could handle it on his own. She was a mother for goodness sakes, she needed to act like one.
The man who called her, the very director of U.A. was tiny, and an animal but Inko didn’t mind. The world of quirks led to this being the norm so she quietly shook his large paw and thanked him for the tea.
“Midoriya-san, Welcome. I know you are most likely wondering what is going on and well, I’ll inform you before we show you.” Inko nodded, her brow worried.
“Midoriya Izuku, Is here, but before you freak out please listen. His situation is fairly complicated at the moment and I must tell you to keep an open mind.” Inko’s eyes widened, and she couldn't help but stand up, making the chair screech in protest.
“My baby is here!? Please, show me to him!” Inko just needed to see him, it didn’t matter what happened.
“Please, try not to be frightened with what you’re about to see Midoriya-san.”
Inko didn’t care. But she felt shivers down her spine and turned slightly only to meet green. Inko’s son- her one and only baby boy was there. Looking at her with tears slowly welling up in his brilliant green eyes. Inko didn’t even take in what had happened before she reached out to hug her son. He reached out as well and hugger her tightly, his grip strangely cold. She noticed he kept a few inches off of her.
“My baby- I’m so sorry Izuku…” She stroked his hair, it was just as soft as she remembered. The curls getting caught on her now slender fingers.
(Mitsuki bothered her about it when Inko had stopped eating. She cried so much the first few days. She lost a fair amount of weight but had slowly started eating so when she saw her baby boy again he wouldn't worry too much)
“M-mom,” Inko held Izuku’s shoulders to get a better look at him.
That’s when she started to panic slightly. Her son was slightly _ transparent _ and his eyes had a strange muted whiteness in the green now that she really looked. Inko was already crying but now she was balling. Her- her son was _ dead! _
“I-Izuku! I’m so sorry!” She felt cold hands on her cheeks and looked up to meet the washed out green shine bright like they used to.
“Mom… It’s not your fault. I- I’m not sure if I’m even… It could be a quirk.” Inko blinked, and wiped her tears away with a tissue, (with a small thank you to the Principal for handing her some) She was confused and so so worried that her she’d never see him again, so maybe this wasn't the worst thing to happen. “I- I’m not sure, no one is but I just woke up and I was here.” He explained, His cold hands holding hers softly.
The Principal let the two have there moment, as Izuku tried to tell his mother he was okay, and didn’t remember how or why he was like this. After Inko calmed down enough, Nedzu took it as his turn to talk.
“Midoriya-san, Your son has seemingly been stuck here physically. He can travel around the campus and event training grounds to an extent, but he can’t leave the gates or beyond specific areas. Even flying upward he is limited and can’t go more than ten kilometers away.” Inko took in the new information and glanced worryingly to her floating - _ My baby boy can float now - _ son.
“So what you mean to say is I can’t…. I can’t take him home.” Nedzu nodded with a frown. “H-hey mom, it’s okay! I’m still here.” Izuku tried. Inko gave him a smile and ran her hand through his hair again, Izuku happily closed his eyes and enjoyed the soft touch.
(He didn’t mention he couldn’t feel any warmth or cold anymore but enjoyed the feeling regardless)
“Midoriya-san I’ll be giving you a special ID to allow you to enter U.A. during all hours weekends, and school hours on weekdays. I hope until we can either figure out how to solve this issue, or come to a more permanent solution.” Nedzu said, sipping some warm tea.
Inko glaced at Izuku again and he seemed to be okay with the idea. Inko loved her son, but she didn’t know what to do about this. If this was some quirk why hasn't it worn off yet? Was there a time limit or was it a ranged based thing? And if it wasn't a quirk- |
5e6c812421e9442d87abfc223a203ebb | ['4aeb816ca672424db40f3349c1ea465c'] | 2. The Name Game
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> An analysis of why Harry and Ginny chose the names for their children that they did.
Harry has always been _too_ appreciative of heroic deeds, Ginny thinks. He was born to parents who thrice escaped and thrice defied Voldemort, parents who died in a flash of 'spirit, fire and dew', parents whom he glorifies and defends in a way that is astonishing when you remember he never knew them.
But, in a way, it is to be expected.
He grew up in a stifling environment, with people whose greatest desire was to be utterly ordinary, and who viewed him as the only barrier preventing them from reaching that ideal. In a constant act of rebellion, he learnt to dismiss the everyday and cling to the wonderful, the awe-inspiring, the fantastic, because how else was he supposed to cope?
Ron may think of himself as mediocre, but he is so much more than that in Harry's eyes – a constant source of amazement, a guide to assimilation into the wizarding world. He is friendly, funny, loyal and brave without the showy bravado. What other eleven-year-old would sacrifice himself in a giant game of wizard chess without a second thought? And he is also Harry's best friend.
Hermione, meanwhile, is the voice of reason, the one whose power and intellect is so honed that she constantly surprises them with her impressive hoard of knowledge, leading every single one of her classmates to call her a know-it-all (and Ron at least twice a week). Smart, sensible, courageous, ambitious, willing to break rules for the sake of her friends – she does not mean to make herself known, but cannot avoid it.
But Harry views himself as ordinary, the everyman. It will take him a long time to realise – to fully _know_ just how extraordinary he is. Even then, he does not quite believe it. 'That was different … I had help … Anyone could have done it!'
At fifteen, he shies away from a girl who has completely understandable reactions (one would only have to be human to cry constantly after the sudden, traumatising death of her boyfriend). Instead, he falls in love with a fire-brand of a woman, least of all because of her bright red hair and mostly because of her whole demeanour. Bold and fearless, she keeps him grounded in reality, yet takes him to places he has never been.
And while Harry will remain forever fond of people like Lupin, Hagrid and even Ginny's own parents, they're not the ones he glorifies through fond remembrances and cherished truths. Lupin died as quietly as he lived: another fighter in the Battle of Hogwarts; Hagrid – Harry's first friend – remains whole in body and amiable in spirit; Arthur and Molly Weasley, though undoubtedly surrogate parents to Harry, hardly swooped out of nowhere with a tantalising hint of adventure – _I'm your godfather; you can escape the Dursleys and come and live with me! How about that?_
But it's Ginny who notices the ones Harry passes over – it is through Ginny that Harry becomes close friends with Neville and Luna. While Harry, Ron and Hermione are away saving the world, the three of them – the manipulated, the bullied, the forgotten – revive Dumbledore's Army, launching a campaign against the Carrows and everything the Dark Lord stands for.
It's in Harry's nature to glorify the boldness that has taken him to where he is now, so he unconsciously passes over the mundane, the unassuming, leaving Ginny to see those he does not.
* * *
They name their first child James Sirius.
Ginny has never been a great hand for names – she was the one who named her brother's featherball of an owl _Pigwidgeon_ , after all. And so, when she tells Harry that he can choose what they will call their first child, he picks the names of his father and godfather, who died in a blaze of glory, both defending him until the last. There's no doubt that they are worthy enough to be bestowed on their child, and yet … well, she's not bothered, so she lets it go.
And then, when Harry approaches Ginny while she is pregnant with their second child, and suggests the name _Albus Severus_ (they already know this one will be another boy), she agrees again. She knows it's the right decision, even though her stomach gave a jolt upon hearing the name _Severus_ – has Harry forgotten the many hours of torment he endured under Snape's command in Potions and Occlumency classes? To err is human; there is no doubt that Snape erred many times; to forgive is – well, not divine, just extraordinarily _difficult_ to 'be the bigger man'. But if Harry can see nothing to forgive in Albus Dumbledore, perhaps the name _Severus_ is not such an unexpected suggestion after all.
Because Harry has always, _always_ been kind and forgiving. Like his mother, say those who knew him.
It comes as no surprise, two years later, when they are again talking over baby names – this time girl names, because they've both got a hunch she will be a girl – and Harry suggests the name _Lily_.
'For my mum,' he says, unnecessarily. 'But that's as far as I've got.'
'Wait – I've an idea,' Ginny answers. 'How about _Luna_?'
She sees the surprise in Harry's eyes, the stark realisation that goes _'I didn't even think of that!'_ And she knows why.
There's no telling what middle name he might have suggested. James and Lily were the defenders; Sirius, the guardian; Albus, the guide; and Severus, the protector; but by now Ginny has run out of possibilities. Luna is funny and insightful and wise and every bit a perfect candidate. They might have gone for the slightly stodgy _Minerva_ – defender of Hogwarts and its students – but two names belonging to teachers are enough. | 0466df1477b8496eaeb41302f0ca095e | ['4aeb816ca672424db40f3349c1ea465c'] |
Bare Bones
'So, how was it?' Ginny asked, stepping over the threshold of Number Twelve and enveloping Harry in a hug.
'How was what?' Harry said innocently, as they made their way along the narrow, high-ceilinged corridor to the kitchen.
One look from Ginny told him she didn't buy it.
'Hermione told me you went to visit your relatives this afternoon.' She dropped her handbag on the kitchen table and caught him in a kiss that tasted of honey. 'How did it go?'
'Er … you know …' Harry suddenly found himself tongue-tied. 'My aunt and uncle weren't there, so it wasn't too bad, actually …'
'What do you mean, they weren't there so it wasn't too bad?' Ginny frowned. 'I thought you'd be glad to see them, after almost a year.'
Her words sounded odd to Harry's ears, until he remembered how little she actually knew of his life before Hogwarts. Even Ron and Hermione were only aware of the bald facts, though he was sure they had pieced together other parts of the story.
He shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant as he leant over the stove and unnecessarily stirred the simmering pot that contained their dinner. 'Well, truth be told, they weren't exactly the most … loving …'
Ginny came up to stand beside him. _'What do you mean, Harry?'_
'Don't worry about it.'
There was that hard, blazing look in her eyes again, that _I-know-what-I-want-so-don't-mess-with-me_ look. She flicked her wand at the stove, extinguishing it (the bubbles in the sauce subsided), then sat down at the table and directed Harry to do the same. Leaning across it towards him, she asked, 'Did they … hurt you?'
'No!' His answer was louder than he meant it to be. 'It's the truth!' he protested. Ginny looked disbelieving, so he tried another tack. 'Listen, they tried their best to pretend that magic doesn't exist, so why would they go out of their way to hurt me?'
'So they suffocated you? Stopped you from doing magic? What if they'd really damaged you, so that you couldn't control it at all?'
Harry stared. 'That's not what I said!' Inwardly, he groaned. He didn't have the energy to deal with this drama about his childhood right now. 'Ginny, just drop it.'
'No!' Her voice came out in a rush, and she dashed over to the big fireplace, reaching for the jar that contained Harry's stock of Floo Powder.
'Where are you going?' Harry said blankly, but instead of jumping into the tall green flames, she shouted, 'The Burrow!' and stuck her head in.
'Percy!' she called, after a moment, and Harry could hear the urgency in her voice. 'Perce, get Ron and Hermione, would you?' A minute later, she pulled her head out of the fire just in time for Ron and Hermione to tumble out. Ron was scowling, as if he'd been caught in the middle of something private or illicit. Which, judging from Hermione's pink cheeks and the way Ron's arm rested around her shoulders, was likely the truth.
'This better be important, Ginny,' muttered Ron, the tips of whose ears were red.
'Oh, it is,' said Ginny coolly. She turned to Harry. 'All right, if you won't tell me, I'll just have to ask them.'
'Ask us _what_?' Ron said loudly.
'About Harry's so-called family – what did you say they were, Harry? _Not exactly loving_?'
Ron swore. Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. Ginny took both responses as confirmation.
'So it's true?' she said, in a voice of steel. Harry turned away. He did not think he could stand it if Ginny went on like this, scratching at old wounds that he'd just as soon let heal.
'Well … we already knew that,' said Ron uneasily. 'Bloody hell, Ginny, you remember when how worried Mum and Dad were when Harry didn't answer our letters that first summer back, don't you? You don't think we went to pick him up because we were starving for company, do you? If anything, Harry was the one starving.'
'Harry, _pay attention_ ,' snapped Hermione. Harry, sensing a headache coming on, had been attempting to slink into the shadows of the long kitchen. 'I don't see why you don't want us to talk about this. You know what they did was wrong, don't you?'
Harry groaned. 'Hermione, I'm not _stupid_.'
'It's not about being stupid,' said Ginny. 'It's about understanding the importance of a true family – not just the people you live with, but those who really care about you, who'll stay by your side, who'll help you when it gets tough.'
'Never knew you were a poet, Ginny,' said Ron, but his eyes were serious.
'Guess you never got a singing Valentine from her, then,' said Harry. Next thing he knew that was a mistake, because Ginny rounded on him, face as scarlet as her hair.
'You said you wouldn't tell –!'
_'His eyes are as green as a fresh picked toad …'_
'I can't believe you even _remember_ that!'
Ron was doubled over with laughter. Hermione looked torn between incredulity and disapproval.
_'His hair is as dark as a blackboard …'_
'Shut it!'
' _I wish he were mine, he's really diviiiiiine ...'_ Ginny raised her wand threateningly and Harry, sensing the danger, tried to wrench it out of her hand.
_'The hero who conquered the Dark_ – ouch!'
Foregoing magic, Ginny had instead poked him in the stomach with her wand. Harry massaged the sore spot ruefully – maybe it was his recent meeting with his cousin that prompted him, he didn't know, but he said lightly, 'You've got better aim than Dudley.'
Ginny pocketed her wand. 'But your cousin's not … oh.' Silence reigned.
'Bet Harry never told you he was his cousin's punching bag,' said Ron.
'And that he slept in a cupboard for ten years,' said Hermione. |
b2e9188bbd8947c6a7fa5de64c36b381 | ['4aed15537d2b44daa939d9975e428680'] | “Okay, ‘s’long as you kiss me again.”
“Maybe. We’ll see.”
\----
Down on the street, you hailed a taxi. A yellow cab swerved up to the curb, and you helped Bucky crawl in. You followed after him.
“Stark Tower, please,” you told the cab driver.
He looked at you in the rearview mirror and raised an eyebrow.
“Please,” you said.
He took off into the sea of red taillights flooding the streets.
Bucky leaned against you, closing his eyes and resting his cheek on your shoulder. You looked out the window. The lighted letters spelling out the names of restaurants and banks and shops blurred by. You saw the flags outside the UN flit in the cool night breeze. And soon, the cab pulled to a stop at the base of Stark Tower. You looked up at the gleaming structure. It was quite impressive.
“Bucky,” you said. “Wake up, Bucky. Bucky!”
He awoke with a snort. “Did I fall asleep?”
“Yes, but we’re back at your place now. Time to get up.”
He groped for the car door handle and finally made contact. He spilled into the street, staggering forward onto the sidewalk. You paid the cab driver and thanked him.
Bucky put an arm around your shoulders. “Come up to my room?”
“I’ll make sure that you get safely to bed, but I won’t stay.”
“Will you kiss me?”
“Probably not.” You led him to the entrance of Stark Tower.
When you entered the building, the doorman nodded to the two of you. “Good evening, Mr. Barnes.”
Bucky waved with his free hand and pulled you along to the elevator.
“I’m going to make sure you get in bed safely, and then I’m leaving.” You watched the numbers above the elevator: 12, 11, 10, 9…
“Marry me,” Bucky said.
You laughed.
“You laugh, but I’m serious.”
“You’re not serious. You’re drunk.”
\----
When you finally made it to his room, he plopped on the bed. You untied his boots and started pulling them off.
“You’re so kind,” he said.
“I know. I am a saint,” you said.
He reached forward with his arms outstretched and ensnared you by the waist. Something instinctive in you snapped, and you slapped him. Hard. Right across his right cheekbone. You hit him so hard that, while his body stayed rigidly in place, a semi-transparent copy of him seemed to have been knocked out of him. This apparition of Bucky looked back at the rigid Bucky sitting on the bed.
“What did you do?” He gazed at his pearly, translucent hands, turning them over in wonder.
You put your hand to your mouth. “I’m so sorry, Bucky! I don’t know what happened. I just—” Acting almost autonomously on another instinct, you placed your palm on the head of his rigid form. Instantly, the copy spiraled back into his body. His eyes shot open. They were clear again.
He spoke clearly and calmly. “What was that?”
“I should go,” you said. “I’m so sorry. I should just go.”
“No wait.” He grabbed your wrist as you were turning to leave. “Don’t you see? It has to do with your powers! I mean, I shouldn’t have come on to you like that. I should be begging for forgiveness.”
“It’s okay, really. I’m just so sorry. I don’t know what happened.”
“But don’t you see how great this is? It means you’re getting your powers back!” He continued to hold your hand.
“But I hit you!” Tears were beginning to blur your vision.
“I don’t care what you did to me, as long as it means you’re getting your powers back.”
“I’m so sorry!” you flung your arms around his neck, and he circled his arms around you.
“Listen to me, Y/N. It’s okay.” He pulled you in tighter.
“If I kiss you, will you forgive me?” you asked.
“I told you there’s nothing to forgive.” He brushed away the tears that had begun falling. “But I won’t say no to a kiss.”
You crawled onto his lap, and he pulled you in close. You lifted your face to his. Even in the dark of his room, you could make out the blue of his eyes. Their depth seemed infinite, and you knew that with one slip you could fall forever.
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you for reading my fic! I'm new at this, so I'd love any and all feedback :) | 2110c18c7af74018b032b924b665f069 | ['4aed15537d2b44daa939d9975e428680'] | “You ever think about how many people live on this tiny island?” Bucky asked. “Like, how many stories we just don’t know?”
“You sound awfully philosophical this morning,” Steve said. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Don’t laugh,” Buck said, “but I bumped into this girl.”
“Let me guess. You can’t stop thinking about her.”
“I can’t! She spilled coffee on me and then just sort of darted off.”
“So, you didn’t catch her name.”
“No, she seemed like she was in a pretty big hurry.” Bucky wanted to tell Steve how she smelled like roses and how her lips were just as red, but he didn’t want Steve to tease him.
“Why don’t you find her?” Steve took a sip of his orange juice.
“Even if I could find her, I think I’m a little old for her,” Bucky said.
“We’re too old for everybody. Plus age won’t matter to her if she’s the kind of person you want to be with. You wouldn’t want to date the kind of person who would hold the fact that you were forced to be cryogenically frozen against you.”
“That’s a fair point.” Bucky snatched the jug of orange juice off the counter.
Steve reached into the cabinet. “For crying out loud, use a glass, Buck.”
—-
The next morning Bucky made a point to take the same route as he did the day before, hoping to run into you again. He was pretty sure that it was somewhere along Fifth Avenue, perhaps near 14th Street. It was somewhat near Union Square. He knew there was a Starbucks at Union Square. Perhaps you had gotten your coffee there. Bucky thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a peek in the window. He looked in, and there was no beautiful girl with those full red lips. He wouldn’t let himself get disappointed, though. This was a huge city with millions of coffee shops. He wracked his brain to try to remember a label or some marking on her coffee cup. He remembered now it was actually just plain white with a black lid. It must be a small coffee shop, possibly not even part of a chain of shops. It had to be someplace unique. It had to be because you had chosen it.
That afternoon, with FRIDAY’s help, Bucky compiled a list of coffee shops near Union Square. It was possible that you had arrived at the Union Square station with coffee you had brought from Brooklyn, for example, but Bucky just had a feeling by how hot it was that it was close by. On his morning jogs, Bucky methodically visited some of the coffee shops on his list, hoping that he’d be lucky enough to bump into you again. After he had visited each one on his list, a week or so had past, and he was beginning to lose hope. Yet the image of your crimson lips was still bright in his memory. The scent of roses was still fresh in his nose.
Well into the second week of his search for your coffee shop, he stopped in the middle of his jog when he smelled roses. He followed the scent to a small flower shop. He peered in the window. It was also a coffee shop! FRIDAY probably didn’t put it on his list because it was listed as a flower shop first and foremost. Inside were two counters. One had a little glass case with pastries and chrome-bright coffee machines behind it, and at the other counter, a woman in a green apron was wrapping a bouquet of daisies in tissue paper. He had a feeling this was the place. He looked up at the sign. It read, Bread and Flowers. It made sense that a girl who wears rose perfume frequents a place like this.
Heart beating in his ears, he entered, and the door jingled a little bell. He walked up to the barista who greeted him with a smile.
“Morning! What can I get for you?” she asked.
Bucky focused on the menu on the wall behind her. “A black coffee, please.”
“For here or to go?”
“For here.” He figured he’d sit around for a bit and see if you showed up.
As he got his coffee and was sitting down at a table by the window, it occurred to him that he had no idea what to say to you. Even worse, he had no idea how to explain to you how he had found your coffee shop. He wasn’t about to tell you about his research with FRIDAY and his daily stakeouts of coffee shops around Union Square. So, he left without touching his coffee.
—-
“Why aren’t you out for a run this morning?” Sam asked. “Don’t you always go running?”
Bucky just grunted into his cereal.
“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Sam said.
“Sorry,” Bucky said.
“Is this about the girl you’ve been spending weeks trying to find?” Sam asked.
There was no point in lying. “How did you know?” Bucky asked.
“Steve told me, and you always come home smelling like coffee after your runs.”
“I just don’t know what I’m going to say to her when I meet her again. Won’t it be weird if I suddenly show up in her coffee shop?”
“Just say hello and tell her your name. You don’t need to explain the fact that you stalked her for weeks. Just make it seem like a coincidence.”
—-
The next day Bucky screwed up the courage to run straight to the flower shop/coffee shop. He opened the door, and there you were, sitting in a corner with a a cup the size of a soup bowl in front of you, reading what looked like a textbook. You were absentmindedly chewing on the highlighter you held, and Bucky was so distracted by the deep red of your lips that he didn’t notice he walked up to the flower shop counter instead of the coffee bar. |
e25d68a8346f45e9ba2d001856624d5d | ['4b14721a6d5c4791a3b670fbf31254fe'] |
Not Soon Enough
“Pa, please don’t leave!” Isaac clung onto the collar of Arthur’s jacket tightly, his face buried into his shoulder. Isaac was usually good with goodbyes each time Arthur visited, Arthur scooping the small boy up into his arms and squeezing him closer to his body, as if to leave an imprint of him on Arthur after. There was never an imprint, but his warmth always lingered within Arthur as he rode away.
“I’ll be back before you know it boy, don’t worry,” Arthur gently rubbed his son’s back, rocking him slightly by shifting from foot to foot.
“You’re always gone for a long time! I don’t wanna wait ‘til next time!”
Arthur chuckled lowly at Isaac’s reply, feeling his heart swell. “Tell you what, how about I come back sooner; say next month? Your birthday is next month isn’t it? I’ll come back then and I’ll have a nice big present for you and I’ll spend more time here next time, okay?” Isaac lifted his head up and nodded in agreement, his eyes still filled with tears and his mouth in a small pout. Arthur brought his free hand up to Isaac’s face and wiped the tears away from his cheeks. He was a spitting image of Arthur, with the same sandy brown hair and blue eyes.
Arthur set Isaac back on his feet and put his attention to Eliza who put a reassuring hand on Isaac’s shoulder as she stood behind him. “Thank you Arthur, for everything.” She said that at the end of every visit, referring to the money Arthur always gave her and for helping as much as he could with Isaac.
“Always,” Arthur nodded in her direction, then ruffled Isaac’s hair before he walked down the stairs of the small house and got onto his horse. “Buck up, buddy. Be strong and good for your ma, okay?” Isaac nodded at him and waved as Arthur rode away, until he couldn’t see him anymore and Arthur had stopped turning around every couple seconds like he always did.
***
Like Arthur had promised, he was able to come sooner and arrive the day of Isaac’s sixth birthday in the early hours of the morning. It was almost as if Boadicea could sense Arthur’s heightened mood and excitement as she seemed to have a bit of pep in her trot down the familiar trail toward the small house. A chocolate bar and a book for Isaac was stored safely in his satchel as the house appeared in his line of sight, along with two unfamiliar figures in the front yard. There was also no laundry hung out or any toys forgotten in the yard, a pit in Arthur’s stomach fully present once he reached the yard.
He identified the figures in the yard as crosses, and he instantly knew who laid below them. His feet caught him at the last second as he got off his horse and kneeled down to the ground. Everything seemed to go in slow motion, and he felt sadness, then rage, then emptiness. He knew it wasn’t an accident. He knew sickness wasn’t the cause. He knew something or someone had caused this and Eliza and Isaac were the innocent victims.
Arthur’s assumptions were soon confirmed by an older woman who lived nearby and seemed to have recognized him and noticed him sitting by their graves. Just last week a group of bandits had rode through one night and shot and killed them for ten dollars that Eliza had gotten from Arthur three weeks before. Arthur didn’t understand; why them? Arthur was the outlaw, the robber, the killer, why didn’t he get this fate instead? Why didn’t he get to be the protector for them like he promised? Why did such a sweet girl and an innocent, goody boy have to have such an ugly and evil fate?
That realization filled Arthur with rage. He wanted to find those bastards and slit their throats and pay for what they did to the only pure things he had. But he knew he would be outnumbered, and he couldn’t bring himself to ask Dutch or Hosea or John to get revenge. Revenge was a fool’s game, and Arthur couldn’t let himself turn into a fool and just ride into a fool’s end by trying to find them.
He knew he should’ve been there for Isaac more, he shouldn’t have only come by a couple times out of the year to be with the gang instead. He thought the cuts he got from jobs being fully donated to Eliza to help feed and clothe the boy made up for it, but he was a fool to think that. He couldn’t be there to protect them when they needed him the most, and he knows that they would still be here if he was there.
He would’ve been celebrating with them, getting a lecture from Eliza for giving the boy a chocolate bar almost half his size and making him bounce off the walls from the sugar, and later he would’ve read the book he got for Isaac as a bedtime story then teach him how to read it the next day. But instead he was sat in the dirt by their graves, their final resting places.
He had to pay for his sins, and he would pay by never being able to watch his boy grow, he would never hold him in his arms again and feel his warmth. He would never see Eliza continue to grow as a mother to Isaac and possibly marry her in the far future so he could have his own family. All he had now was memories of them that seemed so far away and already so long ago and the only proof he had of the family he had were the crooked crosses that seemed to have been thrown up quickly and carelessly.
He fixed the crosses by straightening them out then carving their names the best he could onto them and placing them back into the ground, he didn’t even know who was buried where. He then went to the small garden Eliza kept and pulled some flowers to place in front of the crosses, as if to try to make up for not being there. But nothing could make up for what happened, and all Arthur could do then was sit by their graves for what seemed like eternity while he tried to write or draw in his journal. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t put the moment into words. He couldn’t bring himself to sketch their final resting places, he didn’t need to. All he could do was shift his attention between each cross and think of a new regret as each moment passed by.
Maybe he should have come sooner.
Maybe he should have never left. | 773a202a45c34530b2ee353da9522573 | ['4b14721a6d5c4791a3b670fbf31254fe'] | “You don’t have to leave, you know,” he whispered. “She seems more relaxed having you around. I like you being here too.”
“I don’t want to intrude on your guys’ space. I do like being here with you both too little man,” Louis smiled at AJ as he felt his heart burst at AJ’s words.
“Clem sleeps better when you’re around. She doesn’t have as many nightmares as before since you’ve come in here and she seemed to sleep really well that one night you spent here.”
Louis’s felt his heart drop at that, as he thought he had been discreet enough for neither AJ or Clementine to notice. But AJ was undoubtedly the most observant kid and lightest sleeper Louis knew, so he shouldn’t be so surprised.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Sometimes it makes me feel better too,” AJ started. “She doesn’t seem as scared, so I don’t feel as scared either.”
“I sleep better when I’m with you guys too,” Louis confessed. “You sure Clem won’t stab me if she sees me here in the morning?”
“No! I won’t let her do that to you! Promise,” AJ giggled.
“Okay little dude, I’m taking your word for that and counting on you,” Louis lifted Clementine’s legs off him and he laid on the outer side of the bed. He heard AJ stand up and blow out the candle, then the creak of his bed as he climbed back onto it.
“Good night Louis.”
“Good night AJ.” Louis shifted himself closer to Clementine and he studied her face, she always looked so peaceful and beautiful when she slept. She was laying in the middle of the bed so Louis found himself slightly hanging off the bed, but the warmth from Clementine was all the comfort he needed.
***
The next morning Louis woke up alone in Clementine’s bed, now more in the middle of it. He sat up and saw Clementine and AJ sitting on the floor around the coffeemaker they had brought with them, whispering to each other as if to not wake up Louis. They both must have heard the bed slightly creak because they both turned around as soon as he sat up, a small blush on Clementine’s cheeks.
“Good morning,” she said into her coffee mug, then took a gulp out of it. Louis chuckled to himself, knowing she was feeling bashful about the intimacy of sharing a bed.
“Morning,” he stood up from the bed then plopped himself by her on the floor. “Good to see that I wasn’t stabbed for staying. Thanks for protecting me little dude.”
AJ let out of a laugh as Clementine almost choked on her coffee, then scoffed at Louis. “Shut up, why would I have stabbed you? For spending the night?”
“Well, yeah!” Louis laughed awkwardly. “I didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position without talking about it, plus I know how shy you get around AJ about that stuff.”
“I’m gonna go find Tenn,” AJ excused himself and walked out, Louis internally thanking AJ for letting them talk alone.
“Well, it doesn’t bother me. I don’t remember the last time I had a good night’s sleep like that. Plus, you’re really warm,” Clementine explained.
“So if I wasn’t warm then you would’ve stabbed me?” Louis mocked offense and Clementine scoffed and pushed his shoulder, shaking her head.
“I guess we’ll have to keep on testing to that theory to find out,” Clementine joked, then looked down. Louis found himself speechless at that last comment, trying to figure out if Clementine had said what he thought she was trying to imply.
“Is this the equivalent of you asking me to move in like the dating magazines say?” Louis tried to joke to break the awkwardness. “By asking me to spend the night every night?” Clementine laughed softly at Louis, her blush growing darker.
“Yes, you dork.”
“Well, then I would be honored to,” Louis said. “I’ll move my things here later to really make this move in official.”
Clementine shook her head slowly, but Louis stopped that by pressing his lips to hers and taking her hand. Clementine kissed back immediately, putting her free hand on the back of Louis’s neck as she deepened the kiss.
“Gross!” Tenn and AJ exclaimed, making Clementine and Louis break the kiss and look at the door in horror.
“Go away!” Clementine called back at them and then looked down, making Louis smile.
“But it’s my room!”
“The big kids are talking right now AJ!” Louis interjected, trying not to laugh at Clementine’s embarrassment.
“We’re big kids!” Tenn protested, poking his head more into the doorway.
“Oh yeah?” Louis challenged, then took Clementine’s face and kissed her cheek, making a loud smacking sound. AJ and Tenn yelled out in disgust again as Clementine protested at Louis as she got even more embarrassed. The boys ran away, then Louis pulled away from Clementine, not able to hold back his laughter anymore.
“You’re the worst.” Clementine deadpanned.
“Hey! They wouldn’t leave us alone! We were talking.” Louis put his hands up and shrugged.
“Whatever. Let’s just go to breakfast. I’m starving.” They both stood up and Clementine took Louis’s hand, leading him out of _ their _ room.
**Author's Note:**
> thanks for reading! any criticism is encouraged and appreciated. |
3324f055b73842808c878c30a694adfc | ['4b37b842beda416aadb622aa506b704f'] | She gaped at him. She’d known, in his last regeneration, he’d had a difference of opinion with her and thought letting the Gelth take over corpses was just like recycling, but she had been sure the negative turn of events had changed his mind.
“You cannot mean that!”
“But I do. Perfectly viable land, that when first dedicated to the storage of deceased humans would have been perfect for farming or building or some other innovation, and humans pile bones in it and visit to make them sad.”
“My gran is in this graveyard!” She knew she was shouting at him, but she couldn’t make herself stop.
“…Rose? I thought you understood my position on all of this, the cultural differences between your people and mine. I thought we’d only come here to trace an anomaly one that graveyards like this incubate all the time. I don’t understand why you’re so upset. I–”
“EXACTLY! You don’t understand! And you don’t care enough to try!” She huffed in frustration, doing her best to bring her volume back under control. “I will not stand here and be told that my beliefs are just me being silly.”
She turned away from him, mission be damned. She could call in another team to handle it. Or better yet, the Doctor could stay here to solve this case on his own.
18. fog machine
“Doctor?!” she stumbled through the room, coughing and pressing her scarf closer to her nose. The fog was so thick that she couldn’t even see her hand in front of her face. She was used to fog banks rolling of the Thames, but indoors? In her flat?
“Rose!” she heard him call out and sputter off into coughing to her right. She turned, guiding herself into the living room along the wall.
“Doctor!” Her hand groped blindly for his.
“Rose!” He helped to steady her before he pushed her back towards the wall. “Rose, I can’t shut it off!”
Coughing, she felt along the wall blindly until her leg brushed against something. Bending down, her hand closed around a cord and she pulled, unplugging the machine. She heard it’s fans whir to a stop, and with relief she pushed the Doctor back out the door and to the hall.
Collapsing to the floor next to him, waving a hand in front of her face to clear some of the swirling mist around.
After a long pause, when both their breaths had leveled out, she turned to look at him.
“Did you really try to soup up a fog machine?” He shrugged, avoiding her eyes. “Why?”
He peeked at her under his fringe of hair. “We were going to… have our own haunted house.”
She stared at him for a while before throwing her head back and laughing. “Is that what this was all about? Because I’m pretty sure we already found all the dark corners in the flat.” She nudged him with her shoulder, her tongue poking out between her teeth.
Before he could say anything back, alarms started sounding throughout the building. Neighbors down the hall started to emerge and head for the stairs, shooting glares at them in passing.
She got to her feet, holding her hand out to him. “Come on. We’d better get outside so that you can explain to the fire chief what happened this time.”
He took her fingers between his, pulling himself to his feet with a groan.
19. Ouija board
“Come on, then,” Rose said to him, nodding to the empty space across the table from her. He peered at her curiously before settling in.
“You actually found one?”
Rose shrugged, adjusting the board and fiddling with the oddly-shaped disc. “They’re not hard to find. Practically in every game shop. We used to play with them all the time in grade school. Though mum wasn’t happy with me buying it, not after…” After the ghost incident before Canary Wharf, she finished silently.
He lowered his eyes to the board. “How does it work?”
“Right!” She stopped fiddling with the planchette, setting it down in the middle of the board and putting her hands on it. “You put your hands on it too, like so. Supposedly any spirits that want to communicate with us will push it around the board to answer our questions.”
He arched his eyebrow at her, keeping his hands in his lap. “Hey, you’re the one that was curious about it, remember?”
He sighed and placed his hands on the other side of the pointer from her. “Anyone in particular you want to talk to?” she teased, tongue poking out. He shook his head, angling it to look curiously around the board. “Alright, we’ll leave it open.
"Hello? Anyone out in the spirit world wants to talk to us?”
Nothing happened. He raised his eyes back to her and arched an eyebrow again in silent question. She opened her mouth to explain, but clicked it shut as the planchette started sliding across the board.
“Doctor? Are you moving it?” she gasped, watching as the tool moved slowly to the Hello.
“C'mon, Rose, moving it around like that isn’t going to help me understand this silly little human game,” he warned.
“It’s not me, Doctor!”
They blinked at each other. “Is there someone listening to our questions?” the Doctor asked, his eyes not leaving Rose’s.
The planchette slid across to the Yes.
“Do you have any warnings for us?” Rose asked softly.
The planchette slid away and back to the Yes.
“You swear this isn’t the Doctor moving it around?” she asked, looking back up at the Doctor.
It hesitated for a moment before swiveling back around to yes.
“Or Rose moving it?” the Doctor countered.
Once again yes. | 2d945746e7f741b5bd9c77df23d4f15a | ['4b37b842beda416aadb622aa506b704f'] | He pulled away from her, lifting her and dropping her on the captains chair instead. Her jeans were pulled the rest of the way off her legs, and as he moved to stand between her knees, his eyes roamed her. Her chest was heaving, her hair tousled, lips swollen, eyes huge and dark staring at him. A feral grin stretched across his face at his handiwork.
He gripped her hips tightly and slammed back into her, resuming his rapid pace. Her whimpers and moans filled the console room, echoing his curses in every language he could think of.
His lips brushed the curve of her ear. “Say Mickey’s name. Say the name of your dear perfect boyfriend down the hall. Scream his name as I make you come,” he growled.
She jerked her head away from him, glaring at him. “No.”
He tugged her closer to him, upping his pace. “Say it.”
Her eyes softened right as her hand slid from his shoulder to the back of his neck. She softly stroked the skin there and gently brought her lips closer to his ear. “No. There’s no one I’d rather be here with than you.”
His pace faltered as he pulled back to stare at her with wide, startled eyes. But she wouldn’t let him go; her legs tightened around his hips, drawing him closer.
He thrust forward all at once, teeth latching onto her shoulder, making her cry out. “Doctor! Oh, god, Doctor… Doctor, please.”
Neck straining against the pace he was keeping up, one hand slid from her hip to the place where they were joining, finger finding her clit quickly, setting up a counterpoint rhythm to his strokes inside her. His tongue traced the sliver of skin between his teeth, while his teeth refused to relinquish their hold.
She shouted his name and her muscles clenched around him, her whole body going stiff and arching into him. He kept up his pace, thrusting into her shuddering walls a few more times until he followed her over the edge.
As their breathing slowed, he slowly pulled out of her. Tucking himself back into the trousers still around his hips, he looked up at her with scared eyes. She slid off the chair, pulling her own clothing back on. But he stopped her with a touch, fingers tracing gently over the bite mark prominent where her vest had slipped off her shoulder.
“Oh, Rose, I’m so sorry.”
The gentleness she’d displayed vanished, replaced with the firm and commanding Rose who had first entered the console room. “Nothing happened that I did not want, understand, Doctor? I’m not some fragile little thing you need to keep protected all the time.” She punctuated her words with a poke to his chest. “You need to let me in; I’m not going to break.”
And here he was thinking he couldn’t be any more bewildered by this pink and yellow girl that had come into his life and changed everything he had been. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him. Her arms slid around his back, pinning him to her just as tightly.
The silence stretched on in the console room. He buried his nose in her hair, wondering whatever he had done to deserve someone like Rose Tyler.
Her voice cut through his thoughts. “You’re not gonna leave me behind?” Her voice wavered for the first time that night.
He pulled back to look her in the face, at the tears she was fighting back. His heart swelled for her. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life with her… but he would damn sure spend the rest of her life with her. He tightened his hold, pulling her back into his chest. “No, Rose. I’ll give you your forever.” |
b3686c53545a4bfcb6bf2cf66ce4e630 | ['4b3c8b79825c4e4aaa31ab551b3acc73'] | “Thanks. I just turned nine a few weeks ago” Marie told the teenager and continued to listen to Jaha’s message from the screen as she did not want to see the pity in John’s eyes. In fact, Marie was not exactly sure how long ago she had turned nine. It had been impossible for her to keep track of time once she had been thrown into the skybox.
The doctor’s daughter had obviously woken up, Marie could hear her fighting loudly with the dark skinned boy next to her. Then suddenly one boy loosened his seat belts and floated through the small space without the artificial gravity of the Ark.
A small smile played around Marie's lips at the sight, the floating looked like real fun. Two other boys undid their seat belts as well and joined the first boy in his floating. The doctor’s daughter tried to lecture them sternly about the dangers but they totally ignored her.
Suddenly the dropship gave a hard jolt and continued its course down to earth heavily jerking now. Marie screamed when the first jolt happened and John sitting next to her took one of her hands and gave a reassuring squeeze.
Marie answered him with a small thankful smile, but she kept a firm hold on his hands while her other hand was clenched around the seat belt, holding on for dear life.
The dropship got a harsh impact as it landed on the surface of the earth. Marie screamed again loudly in pure horror when the floating boys were shot onto the ground of the dropship during their crash. Her head smashed back into the seat and she looked on rather dazed. John pried her fingers off of his hand and unfastened his own seat belt quickly. With shaking fingers Marie also undid the straps of her seat belt, while the other teenagers were already scrambling to the exit hurridly. Marie stood up with weak legs and saw the doctor’s daughter lean over the two boys who had joined the first one to float, they were laying totally still on the floor.
“Are they dead?” Marie asked uncertainly addressing the older blonde girl with her voice pitched higher.
The older blonde girl just nodded her head sadly and hurried to the exit when she noticed that a male teenager was already in the process of opening the exit door. Marie listened on as she was obviously trying to dissuade them from just opening the dropship to the outside air. But what else were they supposed to do, Marie wondered silently? They were not given any resources, so they would need to find water and food quickly.
Marie had always liked to read as soon as she was able to read that is. She had read that a healthy human could survive without food for around three weeks, but only around three days without any water. They were all relatively thin as the rations in the skybox had been even smaller than the rations normal workers got. But water would be the most valuable thing for them in the weeks to come. If they even survived the radiation that was left on earth.
The blonde girl had obviously lost her argument with the boy on the hatch as he pressed a button next to the door and it blasted away with a loud hissing sound. Marie was momentarily blinded by the bright light now suffusing the small space of the dropship and she pressed her eyes closed thightly for a long moment.
The teenagers in front of the queue to the outside were already jumping out looking around in wonder, some others screaming in pure joy.
Marie remained at the back for a few moments trying to hold her breath afraid to breathe this polluted air. But the others seemed to be just fine outside, so she took some shaky steps in the direction of the opened hatch.
Her mouth hung open in silent wonder at what she was seeing. She was frantically looking around trying to take in all the details at once. Everything seemed to be green around them. But not just green everything looked so colourful and just alive. A bright contrast to the metallic and almost sterile atmosphere of the Ark they had grown up in. It was not just the sight that was vastly different, but Marie was completely unsused to the earthy smells assaulting her nose as well.
They had landed in what seemed to be a forest. It looked wild and untamed, almost as if it was completely untouched from any form of civilization. Marie wondered if the whole world now looked like that, after it had been wiped clean of the human race by the nukes that had destroyed the old world and forced their ancestors into space. Marie wondered if there might be any animals around, she could not remember from her earth skill lessons if animals might have been able to survive. Looking behind her, she could see that the dropship had destroyed some trees and set their trunks aflame. The others seemed to be unaware of the burning trees and were running wild around her like they were high on something. In the other direction she could see some big mountains on the horizon and started to hope this was not the Mount Weather Jaha had spoken of, it seemed to be pretty far away from them and if Mount Weather was truly the only source of rations to them, they would have a long way to get there. | 5c316fe15ce94086b9402fa59c544e80 | ['4b3c8b79825c4e4aaa31ab551b3acc73'] | _“No one must know of your powers”_ the woman had reminded Marie quickly her voice as sharp as ever _“Remember that”._
The girl had looked chastised for a moment before she nodded mumbling “ _I had just wanted to tell her that I am glad she is well”._
Clarke was surprised that the girl was obviously already able to perfectly speak and understand the language still so foreign to her.
The general had nodded at Marie with a relieved expression and the girl had repeated her words in English voice soft and smiling kindly as she did. Clarke had thanked her taken aback slightly by her concern.
84. Chapter 84
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Previously in chapter 83
> Lexa comforts Marie after a nightmare and is shocked to hear that the girl seems to have caught much as she laid in the coma. She concludes that Marie’s failed attempt at healing Clarke was the source of her aneurysm. Marie is left in the medical bay with Anya while Lexa joins a Council Meeting. Clarke is surprised to watch how Anya and Marie interact.
Chapter 84
In the end Marie fell asleep after Anya had ignored her for long enough silencing her with a glare every time she tried to get her mentor’s attention.
Clarke chuckled slightly as Anya gently tucked the covers more securely around the girl “I never pictured you to be good with kids” she had spoken quicker than her thoughts had caught up with and clamped her mouth shut at the deathly glare the blonde woman threw her way.
After a last glance at Marie sleeping peacefully the woman silently stood from the chair and came over to Clarke the glare still on her face “You truly never think before you speak?” Anya sneered at the younger woman.
“It’s just …” Clarke desperately searched for words to express the contradiction the grounders were to her.
“Do you think educating a second is just about beating them black and blue until they learn how to fight, hammer strategical thinking into them from dawn until sun set?” the general asked glaring down at Clarke towering over her.
Clarke was left speechless under the force of her brown eyes and she knew she had deeply affronted the woman with her words. But she had not meant them as an insult at all.
“No, I apologize that I offended you” Clarke quickly tried to reassure the woman.
Anya merely huffed her glare still intense “You still have absolute no idea about our culture” she settled on.
Clarke sighed but nodded after a moment as she could not deny that. She thought she knew all there was to know about the grounders, violence and war, but the longer she watched them the stronger she knew that her view of the grounders was blindsided by the rage she felt for being betrayed by Lexa.
“I had simply not thought that she would be so close to you” Clarke tried to express some of what she had noticed.
Anya snorted at that “Of course she is. If you take up a second you become their family. You spent your whole time with them, day and night. You watch as they grow into the warriors they can be under your tutelage.”
Clarke thought about the general’s words for a moment as her mind came up with scenes of how Lexa’s early life might have looked like with Anya. She quickly shook those thoughts from her head “I had not thought you would share a sleeping place”.
Anya shortly glanced back to Marie “She is too young to be left on her own. But you are right partly, not all seconds share such a strong bond with their firsts.”
As if speaking to herself Clarke said surprising Anya with the sudden change of topic “Before the Mountain Lexa invited me to Polis”
Anya was silent as she waited for Clarke to finish.
“She said it would change the way I think about your people” Clarke finally said breathing deep to chase away her dark thoughts.
Anya nodded “I am sure you would be surprised by Polis” folding her arms over her chest.
“How so?” Clarke asked clearly interested.
“Polis is the capitol now. A place of peace. You would find it very different from TonDC” Anya said simply not elaborating.
The sound of footsteps approaching the medical bay made the general turn from Clarke’s bed and Lexa entered a moment later her brow raised in question to Anya at seeing the woman by Clarke’s side.
Abby followed closely after the commander and Jackson showed her the result of Clarke’s last blood test which showed complete clearance of the blood poisoning from her system. The woman smiled at her daughter “You are free to go, Clarke”. The blonde let out a relieved sigh and instantly stood from the bed. Her blue eyes connected with Lexa’s for long tense moments before the commander turned away and Clarke left the medical bay without another word.
Anya sighed under her breath already dreading the confrontation that was bound to happen between both leaders.
Abby looked at the recording of Marie’s brain activity and found it completely normal. She still had no logical explanation as to how the girl had healed. The doctor told Anya and Lexa that Marie seemed absolutely healthy again save for the little holes in her head from the operation but that she could not understand how that was possible. When Abby started to mention that she would like to do some deeper tests with the girl’s blood and cells trying to figure out what had triggered the sudden healing both woman exchanged uneasy glances. For both of their tastes what Abby was suggesting sounded way too similar to what the Mountain had done to their people for ages.
“Does she need another check-up?” Lexa stopped Abby’s enumeration of what she could test. |
83395db7808544899a498687010f96e4 | ['4b54d5f77ccb46ca888d93a500a6efed'] | The thing that Baekhyun loves about Christmas is the many types of colourful festive ribbons that become available in stores because he finds extreme joy in wrapping presents in excessive amount of ribbons. That, and transforming Chanyeol’s cubicle into a makeshift Christmas tree complete with its ornaments and decorative threads and a star on a reluctant Chanyeol’s head. The thing that Baekhyun loathes about Christmas is that ribbons aren’t only available in department store shelves, but also adds to the uniform of employees working in a particular department store that Jongdae, very unfortunately for Baekhyun, just so happens to work in.
Loathes because Baekhyun has to bury the heavy urge to lock Jongdae in their apartment bedroom and straddle him under their baby blue bed comforter so he can play with the long and thin string of red ribbon wrapped around Jongdae’s neck all day. Like now.
“Baek, can you help me with this?” Jongdae moans. Or, well, whines, but Baekhyun always finds himself failing to decide whether Jongdae is innocently whining at him or simply trying to leave Baekhyun with a hard on Jongdae won’t attend to for another nine hours because he has to go to work.
“Please tell me it’s not the ribbon again.” Somehow, it always ends up with Baekhyun tying Jongdae’s ribbon for him because,
“I can’t get the loops to the correct size.” Baekhyun is very much doomed.
Baekhyun puts his empty mug down from where he’s trying to make tea in the kitchen and makes for the bedroom. There he finds Jongdae, a very attractive Jongdae in fact, wearing his employee uniform and standing in front of the only full body mirror they have in their bedroom, a polaroid photo of the both of them from their first date five years back attached to the upper right corner.
“Why can’t I get it right?” Jongdae complains with a pout when he sees Baekhyun’s reflection from the mirror.
“If you can tie it properly all by yourself, what would you need me for?” Baekhyun says, a smile on his face at the mere sight of Jongdae. Baekhyun nears him, placing his hands on Jongdae’s sides and turning him so he faces Baekhyun.
“Can you not with all the sappy stuff? I know you’re just trying to make me admit that I can’t live without you,” Jongdae tells him when they’re face to face. He’s still pouting, so Baekhyun gets the message that Jongdae’s words aren’t intended to bite, that Jongdae won’t ever admit it but definitely can’t live without Baekhyun.
Baekhyun kisses the pout off Jongdae’s face. “Shut up. You’re going to be late.”
“How about you shut up and fix my ribbon?” Jongdae says, voice softer and so close Baekhyun can feel Jongdae’s warm breath against his face.
His hands are still resting on Jongdae’s waist, itching to slip under all the fabric and just touch the warmth underneath. It’s tempting, but it’s almost seven and they really can’t afford having Jongdae late to work. There’s also the fact that Baekhyun has piles of unfinished paperwork waiting for him at the office. Work starts at half past eight for Baekhyun and he’s still in his pyjamas trying to make tea and tie ribbons.
Baekhyun doesn’t retort, instead settles to fix Jongdae’s ribbon for him. He reaches up for the ribbon hanging down the collar of Jongdae’s shirt, folds each lengths into two tiny elephant ears, making sure they’re of the same size, before neatly tying everything in place. Baekhyun steps back to admire his work. It looks pretty, the soft red a pleasant contrast to the dark navy sweater Jongdae wears over his white shirt.
“I’ll stop at the pizza place after work so we can have pepperoni and cheese,” Jongdae says, stepping closer. He leans in to kiss Baekhyun, lingering for a second longer than the previous peck Baekhyun gave him. ‘Thanks,’ the kiss says.
Baekhyun smiles. “Don’t forget my garlic bread,” he tells Jongdae as they both head to the kitchen so Baekhyun can finally make his tea and Jongdae can stuff as many slices of bread into his mouth as time allows.
Jongdae says, “I never forget your garlic bread.”
Baekhyun is already thinking of tonight’s dinner - a passing thought of pizza, but mostly of what’s _after_ pizza. Jongdae deserves a special dessert after all the ribbon and teasing he’s showered Baekhyun with. Baekhyun’s considering a serving of naked with a dressing of Santa’s robe topped with a pair of fancy sunglasses.
He walks Jongdae to the door. “I’ll see you later,” Baekhyun says with one last kiss and a knowing smirk.
4. baeksoo - birthday
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> baeksoo, pg, 874 words
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> inspired by exo’s second box bc byun baekhyun is a freaking tease.
>
> * written for kyungsoo's birthday last jan '16. i forgot this exists. this is stupid. don't read this.
Kyungsoo wakes up at four in the morning to the soft sound of Baekhyun’s singing, the dip at the foot of his bed and the faint smell of dark chocolate.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you.” Kyungsoo opens his eyes, tries to hold it open against the remnants of sleep still clouding his mind. Light from the lighted candles greets him when he lowers the comforter that’s covering his face, and Kyungsoo whines at the back of his throat when he feels Baekhyun’s hand on his shoulder, urging him from falling back to sleep.
“Happy birthday, dear Kyungsoo.” Kyungsoo wills himself to sit up, running a hand through his hair and blinking despite the lighted candles that seem so close and bright Baekhyun may as well be shoving the cake right to his face.
“Happy birthday to you.” When he looks up, away from the candles and the cake, Baekhyun’s face comes to view, wearing his trademark rectangle smile and Kyungsoo smiles before he realizes. | fba10b4d0872485c932b12a4e95807a6 | ['4b54d5f77ccb46ca888d93a500a6efed'] | Glorious face turns to face him. “Hey.”
“I’m Sehun. Not that I have to tell you because you know who I am, obviously,” Sehun says, leaning against a locker and watching as amazing side profile Kim Jongin fiddles with his things.
“I do. Yes,” Jongin says, amused. “I’m Jongin.”
The hallway is packed, students squeezing through the crowded space, and Sehun tries not to snap at the occasional brush Jongin gets whenever someone passes right behind him. The possessiveness can wait. “I know. What are you doing?”
Jongin halts, stares at Sehun for a moment, still sporting the amused expression. “Taking some of my first period stuff?”
Sehun blinks lazily. “Sounds like a drag. You know what you should be doing instead?”
“What?” Jongin asks distractedly, sorting out assignment papers. Sehun never sorts out his papers. He just stuffs them in his bag. Duh?
“Me.” Damn smooth, Sehun, damn smooth.
Jongin doesn’t say anything, just closes his locker as the bell rings and gives Sehun a small handsome smile before he leaves for class. Sehun internally praises his intelligent self.
Brilliant idea number one: check.
-
Sehun and Yixing are perhaps the most unexpected combination of friends. Where Sehun sports a bitch face, Yixing winks with a cute dimple and an enticing smile. Where Sehun is tall and lanky and moves with fluidity, Yixing is all about strength and precision and firmly built body muscles. Where Sehun is mostly always bored and prefers doing things his own practical way, Yixing is considerate and carefree and goes with the flow.
But see, they are the best of friends, met in dance team, Sehun telling Yixing his ways of languid body waves and Yixing teaching Sehun to not force dance moves into the brain and instead let the body memorize them. Most of all, they are friends because Sehun is awesome and thinks that Yixing is awesome (which he is) and they are, thus, friends.
Between them is practiced ease of mutual understanding and silent agreement of an unspoken limit of interfering with each other’s individual activities. Which is mostly why Yixing never bothers with Sehun’s weird stash of… something, and Sehun never bothers with Yixing’s basketball matches. Fair enough.
That provides a few other advantages for Sehun, too, one of which is that he doesn’t have to pay extra attention to understand how this basketball thing actually works. So Sehun figures, it’d be more embarrassing to cheer for Jongin at the first ever basketball match he’s ever watched and knows jack shit about, than to run across the basketball court chanting Jongin’s name and waving about a pair of pompoms he’s stolen from one of the cheerleaders.
Sehun grins accomplishedly when he sees Jongin turn to face him, a confused and highly amused expression on his face. “Kim Jongin! Kim Jongin!” Sehun continues to scream excitedly as he makes his way through the court and sways the pompoms in his hands wildly, ignoring how literally every pairs of eyes in the school stadium has turned to face him with various degrees of perplexity and mirth.
In one of the spectator benches, Baekhyun looks severely mortified and Sehun grins at Yixing who looks mildly amused as he sits at one of the courtside bleachers with the rest of the players.
Sehun makes a turn at the end of the court, now making his way back towards where he started and still chanting, “Kim Jongin! Kim Jongin! Kim Jongin!” before returning the pompoms to one of the cheerleaders that is still gaping unattractively at him.
Right before making his way out of the stadium, Sehun looks back and catches Jongin stare at him, brows raised and a smirk on his face. Sehun would like to think it looks inviting. It really does.
Yet another brilliant idea very marvelously done.
-
Sehun shoves a pencil and several sheets of paper he’s torn from his notebook into his pocket, raises his hand, excuses himself from History class and heads to the restroom at the end of the hallway.
Except he doesn’t head to the restroom.
Sehun walks past two other classes and stops when he reaches the hallway just outside class 12-C, peeking at the Chemistry teacher inside. He makes his way towards the line of windows lining the wall that separates the classroom and the hallway and only stops when he reaches the last window at the backmost of the classroom. Sehun waves at the student sitting by the window and motions her to unlock the window for him. The girl gives him a weird look but quietly unlocks it for him anyway, sliding it open enough for a hand to past through.
Sehun muffles a chuckle, crouches down and takes out the pen and papers he’s shoved into his pocket. He scribbles on a paper, folds it into a paper plane and stands back up before throwing it into the classroom, aiming at his target sitting sleepily at one of the last row seats. It hits Jongin right on the head. Bullseye.
Jongin looks down at where the paper plane has fallen onto his hand, then to where it came from and finally at Sehun, then glances at the Chemistry teacher who’s writing on the board and back at Sehun before finally opening the paper plane. He raises an eyebrow. It reads: _HEY._
A second paper plane hits him on the head before Jongin can react. Sehun waves and smiles when Jongin throws him a confused look. Jongin opens the paper plane. It reads: _SORRY IT HIT YOUR HEAD._
Behind the wall, Sehun gets down to scribble on another piece of paper. This time, it doesn’t hit Jongin on the head. It drops on the floor by Jongin’s table and he checks on the teacher before ducking down to pick it up. The paper reads: _SLEEPY? DON’T WORRY. I’LL MAKE CHEM FUN FOR YOU._ Sehun gets an amused smile from Jongin and hunkers back down. |
a95698d1c7bd4b95ad7c7e0f5687c770 | ['4b5d561aa1f9483e968179e5a236f8b0'] | Scrambling along the ground Stiles' gathered his things and noticed that his phone was apparently still working because the fractured screen was illuminated with the notice of Scotts picture on an incoming call. Stiles grabbed at it and picked up the exact moment a shadow blocked out the sun for him. Which had him looking up into a smug face.
It was the same guy that had ran into the pole ahead of him. His hand was extended for Stiles to take and he did. He definitely did.
He felt his breath catch in his throat as their hands took hold of each other, but that wasn't exactly what had him speechless. The way those lips, that he could remember were set into the tightest grimace, were now stretched into a soft smile. The sight of it had Stiles second guessing almost his entire existance and how he had lived up to that point without it. They were saying something, smoothly stretching along syllables and Stiles had to shake his head to fall out of his reverie in order to catch the words.
"What?" Stiles asked, and Scott's voice resounded in his ear. Recoiling from the phone at the suddenness of Scott's voice he glanced at the man that still had his fingers in hand. "Let me call you back."
"Wh-" Stiles heard Scott's panicked voice right before he hung up the phone.
"Sorry, I was just," Stiles started and flicked his gaze up to the man's eyebrows that had jolted up in an incredulous look, "you know what. I have no idea what I was doing. And then you-" Stiles gestured around vaguely, "I'm Stiles."
"Derek," the man- Derek replied smoothly and laughed softly, shaking their already clasped hands, "Here, I think you lost this in your fall."
In his free hand was Derek holding the paper bag of doughnuts and Stiles huffed a chuckle, "yeah, those aren't mine exactly, but my managers. The big boss is a sucker for greasy artery clogging circles of dough--or death, which ever way you want to look at them. I mean, I'm one for junk food but these are just too much." Stiles explained and their hands slipped apart.
Derek nodded slowly at his statement, as if contemplating something, "What about coffee? Are you one for that?"
"Well now that's a different story altogether," Stiles said, getting ready to indulge in a conversation about coffee, "That all depends on the flavour and the time of day. I mean you have your Californian brew, which I find best served with breakfast, black so you can get the wake up fix needed. And then theres a smooth Italian bean--my dad introduced me to the wonders of that--which I like to have throughout the day, with just a touch of cream and three sugars. It gives me the sort of kick that I like relate to how I picture an Italian footballer would have-"
"What about for dinner?" Derek interrupted, an amused smile making his lips crooked.
Stiles parted his lips in an 'o' and blinked, rubbing the back of his neck. An embarrassed flush was tinting the tips of his ears with red, and before answering he had to adjust the way his glasses sat on his nose to gather his senses. "I don't know, I try not to have caffeine too late in the day. It makes me all fidgety and hyper and then I can't think, or sleep,"
Derek's lips were falling into a frown as he looked around, there were still people milling about them and for a moment. Stiles could see a flicker of doubt. They had literally just met. Derek had been, minutes before, most likely contemplating whether he should punch Stiles for laughing at him or simply leaving it alone and never seeing him again. Now for some odd reason they were talking. Learning more than strangers should on a first meeting. And Stiles knew Derek was trying to ask him out.
"I'm gay!" Stiles blurted, back tracking in a panic with his eyes widening when Derek flicked his gaze back to him, raising his very expressive set of eyebrows until they all but lined his hairline, "I mean, I guess I'm bi, because I used to be in love, or well infatuated with this girl named Lydia Martin back in high school but- Oh jesus, that is not the point!"
"What is the point?" Derek asked slowly, his eyes were narrowing and Stiles waved his hands about slightly.
"You- You were going to ask me out. Or well you did, and I fucked it up. Okay, wow, well at least I thought you were. I mean are you gay? Were you going to ask me out?" Stiles asked and stepped a little closer, crimson blotching his cheeks.
Derek's lips were trembling with what looked like a smile and he looked straight into Stiles' eyes as he answered, "Yes. I was going to ask you out for coffee."
Stiles held his breath.
"I don't know though," Derek muttered and searched Stiles' eyes, "I mean besides your last name _and_ your mothers maiden name. I'm pretty sure I've learned what I would have about you on a first date."
"You wouldn't have learne-" Stiles cast his gaze down, the pavement seemed to be laughing at him and he scowled back petulantly, "Right, sorry 'bout that."
"So I guess the second date would be dinner, right?" Derek asked.
Stiles snapped his head back up and smiled widely, "Yes! I think it would qualify as a suitable second date."
"Is that a yes to dinner? Or are you just agreeing with me?" Derek asked, obviously confused but still intrigued by Stiles, enough to continue at least.
"Both really, I mean-" Stiles began but was cut off by Derek waving his hands and shaking his head shortly. | e5342afe04f3463ea50c5a39cd014bb2 | ['4b5d561aa1f9483e968179e5a236f8b0'] | “I’m gonna need to get these off then,” Dean says and steps onto the cold concrete of his floor. He watches Cas slip a hand up the band at his side where the apron is still on, rumpled high up his torso. He’s giving Dean a questioning look, and although it was one of the hottest things he has ever witnessed, he wants Castiel to be completely bare for him to explore. “Take it off.”
Castiel obliges by pulling the apron over his head and lifting his hips up to get at the back ribbon to untie it. Dean draws in a sharp breath at the display that greets his eyes and he quickly pushes his pants down the rest of the way and steps out of them; he does the same with his shoes and socks. On the bed, Cas has relaxed back onto the surface and drinks in the sight of Dean as he moves back. Crawling over Castiel’s body to kiss him on the lips and lick the moan off them.
“You're so perfect,” Dean says gruffly and slides a hand down Cas’ chest and ribs.
“But I’m not, I’m human now Dean.” Castiel manages through a sigh.
Dean chuckles and shakes his head, “That’s not what I mean. I mean you are friggin’ godlike.”
“That doesn’t make sense Dean-”
“Cas. Hush. They’re called endearments.” Dean says gently, because Castiel is making his heart hurt in his chest.
“Okay,” Cas replies, trusting Dean but clearly still confused.
And Dean just laughs adoringly. He isn’t sure how for so long, nearly five years, they avoided this intimacy. Although they are completely the same as the day they met, with just a little bit in between. Dean gives thanks to the no-longer-existent-god for creating his angel, as he nuzzles against Castiel’s stubbled jaw line.
“Now flip over onto your stomach.” Dean whispers with a devilish smirk and a perk of his eyebrows.
Castiel complies with a shy smile and nods. The way Cas twists has Dean almost struggling for air and biting down hard on his lower lip. He grips onto his dick as Castiel settles before him on his stomach. his back arched just slightly and his pale ass picked up. Time seems to stop for Dean, he holds his breath as he pushes down the thrill of want that draws his balls up in a warning of his nearing orgasm and he curses. Castiel looks over his shoulder at Dean, his face twisted in pleasure and confusion.
"Dean? Is this not h-"
"N-No! Fuck Cas. You are the most incredible thing I have ever seen." Dean says and rushes to the bed again.
The bed dips under him crawling over to Cas and he grabs onto Cas' hips, pulling him so that his knees are spread and his ass is propped in the air. Dean bites onto the inside of his lip and drags his cheek across the bottom of Castiel's back. Cas shudders at the sensation of his stubbly cheek against the tender flesh, moaning out Dean's name in a plea.
"Fuck, give me a sec." Dean says and scrambles over to his bedside table, rummaging through the drawer until his hand curls around a half empty bottle of cherry lube. He whoops like a child and Cas looks at him with a smile.
Dean goes back around to his place behind Cas and smooths his hands up and down Cas' back until he cups his ass cheeks. Castiel moans breathily and Dean leans down to nip across the swell of one side. He holds Castiel's cheeks apart and swipes his tongue up the crease, from the underside of Cas' balls to his puckered opening. Castiel moans and clenches at the suddeness. Dean swirls his tongue around his hole and presses lightly with his tongue, Castiel is clutching at the sheets and breathing hurriedly.
"Relax babe, I've got you," Dean mutters and rubs a hand over his skin, soothing him until his bated breaths steady. "Good, just like that."
With his tongue, Dean laps around Cas' warm flesh, drinking in the sounds and getting lost in the feeling of Cas easing into the sensation of Dean's actions. He tongues into him, saliva making the skin smooth. Cas is contracting against his tongue, opening for the intrusion. Dean slips his tongue past the ring of muscle and groans. The vibrations of his sound cause Cas to whimper and his flesh to bead with goose bumps. Dean licks into him again and again, sloppy sounds fill the air and mix exquisitely with Cas' whimpers. Unable to help it any longer, Dean has to lay on his groin and rut against the mattress to release some of the pressure built in his stomach. His breathing hitches and he groans again, Cas reaches back for him and grasps onto his head clumsily. Dean sounds appreciatively and doubles his efforts. With Cas holding him close Dean thrusts his tongue in and out swiftly, working him open.
Dean brings a hand down into the crease and swipes a thumb gently over Cas' hole, he presses in and licks around the rim and his knuckle as it breaches Cas. From above him Dean hears Cas groaning out his name and it drives a spike of arousal through his bloodstream and it makes him ache to his core. Castiel pushes back on him, wanting more. Dean leans back and Castiel's hand slips from his hair with a disappointed sound.
Dean chuckles lightly and grabs the bottle of lube. He squeezes a generous amount of the slippery liquid on his fingers and warms it. The sound Castiel makes when he slips his finger down his crack has dean growling. He wants to be inside Cas already. But the prep is necessary because they haven't fucked often enough for Cas to be used to the stretch of his cock. |
45ef0d24bfa94aad887c4e41f267efdc | ['4b6d9acd250a43d6a770b74725a2853b'] | Irresistible
**Author's Note:**
> I blame Ari for this
He was arousing suspicion, with heavy breathing, seemingly nonstop sweating, twitching, among other things. Camie noticed him struggling to walk and stand, whispering her ideas to Seiji who was trying to ignore her. He shifted onto his left leg and the sensation quickly became too much as the pressure spiked. Inasa’s arm shot up, loudly declaring that he had to go to the restroom, and ran off, aided by his wind quirk.
Inasa barely made his way through the doors of the bathroom on the training grounds before collapsing on the tiled floor, basking in the cool relief that the tiles provided against his hot face. His hero costume currently felt like a furnace, hot, constricting and scratchy against his oversensitive skin. With a shaky breath, he pushed himself off the tiled floor and pulled off his gauntlet before taking the slow and painful process of pulling off all the other layers. In the end, his hero costume was in a pile on the floor next to him, the only other pieces of clothing remaining on his person were a tight undershirt and gym shorts. As Inasa hobbled into the nearest stall, clenching every muscle in his body.
Slamming the door closed, Inasa dropped his shorts, pressing his face against the pale purple door, warming it up with his hot breath. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as the vibrations remained strong, sending shivers up his spine.
\-----
_ “Are you sure you’re alright with this?” Shouto asked, holding up a bundle of vibrating eggs by their cords. _
_ Inasa sat with his back straight, nodding. “Anything for you!” _
_ Giving the taller man a small smile, Shouto told Insas to lay down on his stomach and relax, placing a pillow underneath his stomach for more leverage. A soft click, and then fingers ran down his ass and pressed into his hole, slowly moving in and out three times before another entered alongside it, bending, flexing and scissoring. Inasa’s breathing steadily grew more and more ragged as Shouto worked wonders with his fingers before abruptly pulling them out before Inasa could gain any more pleasure. Another click and Inasa felt the smooth oval-shaped egg slip into him. Shouto pushed in four more as Inasa arched his back, grabbing the sheets in his clenched fist, shaking. _
_ Inasa was told to sit back up and he did just so, facing Shouto with his legs out in front of him. Shouto picked up a few lace headbands that were next to him and lifted up Inasa’s leg, pulling the headbands over to his thigh, strapping the various remotes in place. _
_ “Are you ready?” Shouto asked when all the remotes were secured against Inasa’s thighs, each at a different length than the last. _
_ As the wind user nodded, Shouto reached forward and slipped his fingers underneath the five headbands and turned each one on at a different setting, watching as Inasa tensed up the second the first one flared to life. He tried closing his legs as a reflex but Shouto held them open, whispered quiet words of encouragement, and turned another one on. _
_ By the time Shouto finished the painstakingly slow process of turning all five on and having each adjusted and fine-tuned, Inasa was a squirming and whining mess. “Now, remember, you’re going to keep those in for the entire day, and if you do so without touching yourself, I’ll reward you,” Shouto instructed, resting a cooled hand against Inasa’s inner thigh. “But if you do,” the hand became colder. “You’ll be punished.” _
\-----
Inasa _ almost _ did it. He almost stuck his hands down his underwear to stroke his throbbing dick, but he didn’t. He couldn't. Knowing Shouto, the punishment he speaks of would spread over to a week from now. Taking a deep breath, Inasa clenched his fists and forced himself to relax, pushing away the thoughts his lizard brain is giving out, to just say ‘fuck it’ and grab his dick to relieve some pressure. It’s not like Shouto would ever know, but just the idea of the other finding out _ somehow _ was enough to deter Inasa, so he stood there, leaning against the stall door, counting the seconds as they passed, feeling his heart beating in his chest and cock throb. Three seconds later, Inasa pushed himself off the stall door and leaned down to pull up his shorts, groaning as the eggs inside him shifted with his movement.
By the time Inasa managed to put on his costume and make himself look like he didn’t just lose his mind in a bathroom stall. He opened the door with his usual idiotic grin and almost crashed straight into Seiji. “Oh, you’re alive,” the smaller muttered.
“Yep! Technical difficulties, that’s all,” Inasa beamed, patting Seiji on the head before making his way back to the training grounds.
“You sure everything is fine? You were in there for an awfully long time.”
Inasa hummed and nodded. Only three more hours to go.
The rest of the school day was hell. People were constantly staring at him, asking if he was alright, just plain judgemental. Maybe they could see through his facade, maybe they knew what was happening, but regardless, Inasa did his best to act normal, powering through the vibrations shaking him to his very core and continued on. When he returned home, Shouto was nowhere to be seen, so he sat on the couch, turned on the television, and waited.
Shouto stepped through the door ten minutes later with a sly grin and toed off his shoes. “Let’s get things started now, shall we?”
**Author's Note:**
> Part 2 will come in a year | 573b0c87c6c8448f8fbb87981b46e8c2 | ['4b6d9acd250a43d6a770b74725a2853b'] | From the Skies
**Author's Note:**
> I thought of this while I was in the shower. Good thing my phone is water resistant
Patrols had always been quite a bit of a nuisance, especially when it was just one of those days where you just wanted to lay in bed with a questionable amount of unhealthy food and watch reruns of old 90s shows. But, Hawks had a job to do, and he would rather get it done sooner so he could go home and do just that. While quickly soaring over a seedy alleyway, the scent of burnt flesh flooded his senses and Hawks coughed, landing on the rooftop to peer over and into the darkness. Blue flames ran across the ground, and in the center of it all was a pile of burnt corpses, slowly turning to ash. “Shit,” Hawks muttered, running across the roof to find the one and only person responsible for it.
Hawks finally found the culprit further down the alley, leaning against the grimy brick walls with his head hung low. It was too narrow for him to effectively make a dramatic entrance with his wings - and he didn’t want to break his legs by jumping down, so Hawks took the long route and climbed down one of the fire escapes. He wasn’t trying to be discreet by any means, but the other man made no move to run away. “You here to arrest me, little bird?” He asked, voice echoing and resonating off the walls of the alley. Hawks hit the ground and slowly walked over to him.
“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t, Dabi?” Hawks retorted.
Dabi scoffed and looked up at the night sky, fiddling with his fingers. “Because it’s a nice night, and I know you don’t want to be here in a dark alley with a shady looking man,” he smirked. A small flame formed on his shoulder, illuminating the side of his face in a blue glow. His expression held no hostility.
Hawks’ shoulders relaxed and he sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “True. Just don’t burn any more bodies and I’ll let you be on your way.”
Dabi pushed himself off the wall and turned to face the hero. “May I have a feather to keep me company on the way home?” Dabi asked, holding out his hand. Hawks frowned, but did so nonetheless, willing a single covert feather into the palm of Dabi’s outstretched hand. It would benefit Hawks more than it would Dabi.
Their second meeting was at a bar at one in the morning. Dabi was sitting by himself at one of the booths in the far corner of the bar with three empty bottles of beer on the table in front of him. Hawks watched as the other mindlessly tapped out a meaningless rhythm against the wooden table before walking over and took a seat in front of Dabi. The other man’s fingers stopped and he looked up at the hero, expressionless. “You here to arrest me?” He asked, folding his arms on the top of the table.
“Nah, just chilling,” Hawks yawned, leaning back against the seat.
Dabi hummed and took a sip from the fourth bottle. “I’m starting to think you’re following me,” he muttered.
“There are such things as coincidences,” Hawks replied matter-of-factly.
“Indeed there are.”
They sat in silence for a couple more minutes before Hawks’ phone rang. He groaned as he unlocked it, staring at the screen blankly. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut our reunion short, duty calls.” Hawks gave a mock salute and gave Dabi another feather. An alular, for safekeeping.
On their third meeting, they ran into each other in a park. Dabi was silent but still greeted the Winged Hero regardless. Hawks’ phone started buzzing and he smiled sadly, hand picking out one of his tertiary feathers before handing it to Dabi. For good luck.
On their fourth meeting, things were different. It was in the alley where Hawks’ feather exchange first started, and Dabi was noticeably irritated and paranoid as if he couldn’t wait for something to happen but yet he feared the outcome. But like all the other times, Hawks plucked out another feather and handed it to the fire user with a grin. This time, a secondary. To keep him safe. His heart hurt to leave.
Their fifth meeting was just after Endeavor had barely managed to defeat the Nomu. Dabi sauntered onto the battlefield with a sinister grin. “It’s nice to meet you, I guess… Endeavor,” Dabi muttered, eyes, lifeless yet eager. Neither of the two heroes knew what to do. Endeavor could hardly stand on his own, how was he supposed to fight one of the most dangerous villains at full power? Hawks, on the other hand, had used up all his feathers. It would take a while before they regenerate.
They were at a loss, but Hawks was feeling much more. Fear, confusion, betrayal, loss, all the various emotions and thoughts that swirled around his mind. Racking his brain for a solution, he found that one of his primary feathers still remained, partially burned but controllable and there nonetheless. He willed it over to Dabi discreetly, letting it land on top of his leather boot, clenching his fist as it started to burn once more against the raging blue fires behind Dabi. A burned primary feather, because I love you.
**Author's Note:**
> Hi I love these two with all my heart and I would die for them. Dabi is a Todoroki don't @ me
> Support me on Ko-fi if you so desire at ko-fi.com/laurincia |
72e245612b164824a9a650bf0e26d73a | ['4b704100c98b4e7180bd961ec7606803'] | "I mean you never say anything do you"
"SHUT UP!" I yelled. everyone could see I was crying now.
"Aww did I hit a button, cute fattie" I fell to the floor. I couldn't do anything.
"MOVE!" I heard him shout. he pushed people out of the way and ran towards me. "Luce?" he asked.
"Waah! it's natsu-kun" Kani said.
"Why are you here!" he shouted. I was shaking "what did you do to Lucy?"
"Just told people the truth"
"Truth?"
"Yes, about her suicidal dead mother, he player beater father, her whore 'mother' and her dead friend"
"Do you have any idea what you done to her?"
"Nope" she proudly said.
"Lucy I'm sorry but she needs to know" I nodded slowly and stood up. He rolled my sleeve up. he carefully but hardly rubbed my arm. my scars began to show. I had no emotion. I was blinded by the stares. "you're killing her"
I fell back to the floor. I could hear people thoughts "was that?"
"Does she?" I wanted to scream but I couldn't make a sound. I wanted to start crying but i couldn't. I was numb. an emotionless creature, I wasn't even human. I wasn't even from this world. I was an untangled species which was a waste of space. being selfish taking the things the humans need to live; oxygen, water, food, light, shelter, you name it I took it. I was so selfish that I didn't want it, I just kept on taking it any way.
Natsu stood in front of me, being my shield. I was weak, worthless, pathetic! "What an attention whore" Kani commented. I never wanted the attention. I wanted to just deal with it myself.
"She isn't an attention whore Kani! she is hurt" Natsu was standing up for me. For some reason I felt like running. just running home. I wouldn't stop. I could just run. I slowly got to my feet "Lucy" he turned to me "it's okay let me handle it." I shook my head
"No, I need to do this" I stood forward. All eyes were on me. I was shaking. "Kani, Everyone, I--"
"WHATS GOING ON?!" I heard a teacher shout. I panicked. if they found out, I would be taken away. the pressure of being in a room with a stranger is too much. I saw my opening. at the entrance gate people were moving. I decided to do it. I ran.
I could hear people yelling my name. "LUCY!"
"WHERES SHE GOING?!" I didn't stop though.
"LUCY!" I finally heard. I knew he would be chasing me but I wouldn't stop. "LUCY!!" he yelled again. I glanced behind me whilst running. he was fast. I faced forward again and tried running faster. I couldn't run fast. I haven't been eating. which means I don't have a lot of energy. I saw an opening. it was Loke's short cut home. I belted across the road and headed down it.
There was lots of trees.I could still hear him though. "LUCY!" he yelled. he was getting closer.
"KYAA!" I screamed as I tripped and fell to the floor.
"LUCE!" I sat up and shuffled to the side. he kept on coming closer.
"I-I" he kneeled in front of me. he looked sad. I couldn't say anything.
"Luce..." he sighed. he put his forehead on mines and closed his eyes "I'm sorry" he said.I couldn't believe my eyes. I know Natsu loved me but, I thought he would of given up "attention seeking whore" something like that. but no. he believed it was his fault I ran.I kissed him on the lips. he was shocked at first but kissed me back.
"Natsu" I mumbled "I need help" I admitted it. He ran his fingers through my hair. my pony tail had same down. it was longer than I remember. the stands danced between his fingers like a flowing river. his eyes met mine again.
"I will help you" he smiled at me.
"Alright" I agreed.
I can't leave any more. I'm sorry mum. I have found a different kind of love. not the same love I had for you. it's magical, it's wonderful, it's the thing I need. I can't leave Natsu behind.
He had walked me home. we were outside the door. "Lucy, you will be okay?" he asked. I nodded and gave him a long hug. his heart was slowing down. he must of been stressed. "Shall we tell her together?" he asked looking at the door. I shook my head
"I need to do this on my own." he kissed me again. It was amazing again.
"Goodbye Luce" he left me to enter. to enter my next stage.
**Author's Note:**
> hi there,
>
> This is a reupload of one of my fanfics, I hope you enjoy it! | b1d9134baaac4aecaa0e3f598ee6bcb8 | ['4b704100c98b4e7180bd961ec7606803'] | Another day. I was looking in the mirror trying to cover up the bruises and scars. they hurt like hell but if I stayed home who would know what father would do next. also I can't stand being with that woman. pretending to be my mother. I went down stairs to find no one there. there was a note on the table that read 'me and your father are 'sleeping' sorry we won't be able to see you this morning' I rolled my eyes and threw the note in the bin. I then made my self a lunch. it smelled delicious. it looked amazing as well. I guess expensive cooking classes pay off. I put it in my bag and headed out side.
At the bus stop he was there. he leaned against the tree listening to music. when I got to him i stood next to him in silence. he then looked at me noticing me. he quickly took his head phones out and turned my body too face him. I stared at him. i wanted to talk to him but I had know idea what to say. "L-Lucy" he said with a worried look. "I-I had know idea". he put his arms carefully around me. "I'm sorry" he whispered into my ear. I felt like crying.
**FLASH BACK**
"Lucy" mother called running to me. "are you okay?" she asked helping me up off of the ground. I had fell and cut my knee and was crying. she held my in her arms and whispered "I'm sorry" I began to stop crying and she continued. "I'm sorry I couldn't of helped you". I began to giggle
"Silly mummy" i rubbed my knee, if was rough. "It's not your fault, I'm just clumsy"
**REALITY**
"I'm sorry I couldn't help you yesterday" he put his head on my shoulder. I stood stiff. what was I meant to say? I had no idea and replied with
"It's not your fault, you didn't have to help me" he let go of me and said
"But I could of sto--"
"If you did who knows what would of happened to you" I rubbed my arm I stared into his eyes. "I'm okay now so, so don't get too worried" we heard the bus coming up to is and we picked our stuff up. Levy wasn't on the bus. The thing with Levy is sometimes she gets the bus and sometimes she doesn't. she lives with her gran as she as parent issues, like me but I'm not sure what they are, her gran is old and frail so levy sometimes walks her into town and leaves her at the day centre, but sometimes after school she will have to walk her home. her job also has weird shifts so they will text her around lunch if they need her to come in early, it's confusing i know. Natsu was in front of me. he sat in a seat of two. he singled me to sit next to him so I did. I noticed in the window my face was still pretty bad. I cupped where it was the worst to hide it and the bus drove off.
When we stopped erza and that gray boy were there. I could see levy carrying books inside in the distance. we got off of the bug an erza greeted me. "what happened?!" she exclaimed checking my face.
"I fell down steps" I made up. "I'm so clumsy" she smiled at me and said
"Well if that's fine then". natsu was with that gray guy. I looked at him and he looked at me. he looked sad so I smiled at him and gave him the thumbs up. he smiled back.
"Erza?" a voice said coming from the other direction. I turned to find a boy with blue hair and red marks on his right eye in front of us. Erza looked at him. she was examining him?
"Yes jellal" she answered looking up at him. The boy looked guilty and said
"I ehm accidentally may of lost all over our biology project..." Erza stiffened. She looked like someone had died.
"Y-Y-You what?!" she screamed. He noticed me and introduced himself
"Eh, hi I'm jellal and you are?" Erza put her hand in front of me and replied
"This is Lucy, don't you remember? She's the girl your lot embarrassed yesterday" I blushed remembering the 'incident' of the bra. Jellal suddenly remember and said sorry. "back to our conversation!" Erza instructed. She lifted him by the collar. "what was that about the biology?!?!" she let jellal down so he could explain him self.
"Well, I, uh, it was at home and I was cooking, it was my night you see, and, uh, I sort of spilt water all over the sheets..." there was a silence. I stood there watching erzas face. She looked annoyed. From what I heard erza's parents are both people who are, how do you say i, high up? Her father is the owner of the hospital in the town and her mother is the a biologist. Her parents aren't strict but she feels that she needs to show them what she can do as their always busy. She crumbled to the floor. Jellal went down to her "I'm sorry" he said placing his hands are her. She was shaking like a murder hand happened. Suddenly she shot up bringing jellal with her.
"Meet me at lunch. I'm sure we can fix it"he nodded and ran off towards natsu. Erza sighed and took my wrist. "let's go" we ran off towards a group of girls. They smiled and waved at us.
We got to them and Erza introduced me "this is Lucy" they all said hey to me. There was so friendly and they all knew each other. I sat next to a girl called mirajane.
"Shoot!" she said reading her phone.
"What's wrong?" Juvia asked. |
213c770d7a8749a2bdcdc5b469d336eb | ['4b82f05c47ab4476a69e273c73467295'] |
1. Act 1.1
A second-generation medium stands in the foyer of an old Louisiana home. It just so happens that on the 4th of December, 2012, she and her brother will celebrate their seventeenth birthdays. Though it has been years since they became aware of their mediumship, it is only ten days from now that they will realize their full abilities!
What will the name of this mysterious lass be?
> Flighty Broad
Excuse you, this is no time for sass. There’s a city to explore, ghosts to bust, butts to touch. Please try again.
> Rose Lalonde
Your name is ROSE LALONDE. As previously mentioned, you are a medium, and rather EXPERIENCED at that, if only because ghosts are everywhere, and you are more than happy to help them CROSS OVER. Your brother, DAVE STRIDER, is much less enthusiastic about your shared gifts (considering wherever he goes, that ridiculous “NO GHOSTS ALLOWED” sign follows).
TG: anyone know who jane and jake are and why theyre writing us letters
Speak of the devil.
TG: man i knew this place couldnt actually be legit i mean mom and jade are setting up shop in the freaking basement
TG: dont tell me we actually bought this off the black market
TT: Damn, you’ve caught on. The rest of us had attempted to keep it a secret from you because we expected you to react this way.
TT: Now Mother and Jade will have to hold you in their laboratory forever.
TT: The tiny taxidermied bodies of their frogs will serve as your prison guards.
TT: You will be released when you finally conquer your inexplicable fear of ghost amphibians.
TG: you think youre real funny dontcha
TT: :)
TG: i can smile too see
TG: :)
==>
You smile at each other for twenty-four seconds before Dave breaks.
TT: Honestly, Dave, that letter is probably just some error on the post office’s part. I don’t know why you felt the need to jump to the most dramatic conclusion.
TG: i dunno something about this place is making me antsy
TT: Antsy.
TG: yeah come on youre the one whos actually into this creepy junk you cant tell me you havent noticed like
TG: ok i havent actually seen anything but i keep hearing footsteps or something and i dont know if its any of you or something else
TT: I suppose I’ve been too busy getting things set up to notice any peculiarities. Though it’s not exactly surprising. Are you sure it wasn’t the frogs?
TG: i dont wanna talk about those things
TG: besides frogs dont make that kinda noise
TT: If there are other occupants, they should reveal themselves soon enough. Tell me when they take a shine to you.
Dave begins to rail on about the afterlife’s creepy obsession with him, and perhaps you would have given him the attention he so desperately needed if you hadn’t heard water running upstairs.
TT: Hold on. Do you hear that?
TG:
TG: ok you can check that out yourself i think i hear something that gets me out of this
TT: Of course you do.
Dave makes a noble attempt to abscond into the library, but a bucket of water propped over the doorway catches him (well, honestly, both of you) unawares. He stops in place.
TG: gdi
TT: You’re right, the danger is definitely on the second floor. I’ll be off to check on that.
> Go to second floor bathroom.
You hear the distinct sound of water overflowing and fear the worst. Sure enough, both of the sink’s faucets have been turned on full force, creating a small flood within a two-foot radius. A large part of you doubts your mother simply neglected to turn them off. Perhaps YOU SHOULD?
> Turn off faucets.
Great job. That’s just some top notch faucet-turning right there. Now you’re left with a flooded bathroom.
You… don’t think a mop is going to help you here. Maybe you can ask your mother if she has any gadgetry that would assist you in your custodial endeavors. Alternatively, you could attempt to coerce Dave into doing it.
==>
????: heheheh.
> ??????(??)? ??
What was-
TT: Hello?
…hmm. You wait, but other than the commotion from downstairs, there’s only silence. Either your mind is playing tricks on you, which you doubt, or someone likes playing games
That’s OK. You like playing games, too.
TG: noooo NO NO NO
What could have possibly happened within the last five minutes that would make him react so loudly? Maybe you should go see what’s going on.
2. Act 1.2
> Go down to the family room.
It looks as though someone has been doing some decorating while you were braving the flood in the bathroom. A photograph hangs above the fireplace: a man you and Dave learned to only call Dirk, your mother armed with a cat-ear headband, you and Dave wearing tiny ridiculous horse shirts.
In another world, you think maybe you would have ended up being the ghost horse whisperer. You would train your ghost horse to carry you over hill and dale.
> You would be.
The Ghost Rider.
DAVE: oh come the fuck on
Ah, right. Duty calls.
> Get to the kitchen posthaste!
You walk into the kitchen to find Dave riding the waves of another localized flood, map in hand. Wow. It's like there's some otherworldly force attempting to... rather ineffectively drive you out? All right, so the sinks are overflowing. Ooooo. The very pinnacle of terror.
ROSE: I see someone’s been up to some hi-jinks in here as well.
DAVE: figure that out all by yourself someone get this girl a gold star sticker
ROSE: I noticed you at least had time to do some decorating in the living room before this latest incident.
DAVE: right ive had hells of time to do that in between surfin usa | e2a673dfefac43179c3e498df4d1737d | ['4b82f05c47ab4476a69e273c73467295'] | Then you stop for good, realizing how fine a point you've put on it. You can only imagine all the things he wants to do in light of this.
Right at the bottom of that list is John pulling you into a hug, which is what actually happens. "Rose," he says, in a mumble over your shoulder, "you are gonna start hitting Dave levels of being stupid about all the wrong things at this rate."
It's a long moment before you huff out a snort against his ear. "A would-be Homeric travesty by way of Ed Wood, to be sure," you say. "But, if you'll forgive me for not quite following your point?"
"You just can't help it," he replies, and for all the reassurance meant his words sting. What does it say about you that even in death all you want to do is unravel people, strand by labored, overzealous strand?
Maybe he picks up on that, in a way, because he tugs you a little closer then adds, "And anyway, I played along. I didn't even think about what could happen. I just wanted you to stop acting so aloof for once and actually tell me stuff." He pauses, and you can feel him frown. "Also ... you already kind of apologized for stuff earlier, while I don't think I have, really? So. I'm sorry too, Rose."
"Apology accepted," you say firmly, then return his hug to seal it. The frown turns into a tiny smile in the crook of your neck.
You both stay like that for a while. You're starting to wonder, just idly, if the bubble still has some weird domain over your perception since you can feel a gentle pulse where John's heart would be if he were alive when he suddenly says, "I miss them. I mean, I still feel like I just talked to Jade and Dave a few hours ago, and in a way I guess I did, but also not? Maybe they're." He stops it there.
You think about telling him that it may have been a long time already, that maybe you've both gone through the motions of memory after memory without catching on until now. Instead you say, "I miss them too," because it's true. There's a few minutes where you try very hard not to think about what Dave and Jade were left to deal with, and whether it's a matter of time before they find you like John did, too.
John is the one to pull away first, though he keeps his fingers lightly clasped above your elbows. You're about as happy to let him keep doing that as he seems to be shy about it (which is to say: a fair bit). "So ... what do we do now?" he asks.
You sigh. "Just as the bubbles intersect, so are they wont to eventually ... part company. Or so I've heard." His face falls with understanding; you're right there with him. "All we can do is make the most of what time we have left."
You watch his gaze dip then bob up again before he punctuates the silence with ... a snort. "Suuuure, go and make that sound as final and incontrovertible or whatever as possible. Psssh."
You snort too. "I could go on about the gods having mysterious ways if you're itching for some defeatist rhetoric," you say. "Also, that was a good word."
"'In-con-tro-vertible.' You taught me that one the first time we talked." You blink. "Ha! See, Miss Flair-for-the-Dramatic, I am savvy to certain conventions too!"
"Conventions?"
"Yeah! Like, remembering semi-obscure shit at just the right moment -- a key accessory in any prankster's toolkit, you should know -- and, uhhh ... "
"And relational bookends?" you say quietly.
" ... Yeah." He starts worrying his bottom lip, but he veers the expression towards something more thoughtful. "Though I dunno, Rose. My half of this merged afterlifey bubble is feeling kind of stubborn." He grins. "You might be stuck with me for awhile!"
Something akin to "I think I would like that" sits poised on your tongue, but you hope you don't have to say it. His grin relaxes into a soft smile, you feel one creeping onto your own lips, and ... did one of the slot machines just hit a jackpot behind you?
John notices and sort of coughs out a laugh. He's gone red to the tips of his ears.
On second thought, no. You don't think you'll have to say a word on that front.
"In that case," you say instead, "why don't we blow this joint in style?"
He blinks. "What do you mean?"
With a flourish, you demonstrate. He almost falls over laughing.
The casino shifts under your feet. Carpeting phases to stone and sand, deep blue coated or run through with rivulets of pearl white, and the lights chained to the ceiling flicker and float free as fireflies. Behind John, the walls fade into mist, and the hand he holds out to you is backlit by brilliant rain. You can already see his mind spinning with plans behind his still-bright eyes.
When you take his hand and hold on tight, you're content with finding out what it means to be a part of whatever he's dreaming up.
**Author's Note:**
> Full Credits:
>
> LINK (writing), LINK (writing and illustration), LINK (writing), LINK (writing), LINK (writing), LINK (flash animation) |
c063eff0757e446a930d51d82f49622f | ['4b957967fb5343958ab13c02afe71d88'] | That was the last straw - Smith growled and grabbed him so he couldn't slip away again and ducked to slam their lips together. Instantly, he felt the selkie's lips curl into a smile, without an ounce of surprise, and that made Smith even more furious.
He moved aggressively, forcing his way into the selkie's mouth, but the selkie matched him beat for beat, kissing back hard, both hands moving upwards to grip Smith's hair. The grip hurt and Smith snarled and spun them, slamming the selkie into the wall in retribution. He felt him gasp and felt a rush of satisfaction, but then the creature laughed against his lips and kissed him harder, arms winding tight around Smith's neck as Smith's fingers dug into his sides in a grip that had to be by far hard enough to hurt, retaliation for his reaction. As though he was _happy_. As though he was still somehow _in control_.
Smith growled and yanked him forward to slam back into the wall with all his strength. The selkie only grunted and didn't let up the liplocked battle. Smith pushed harder, gripped harder, delved deeper. But he was horrified to realise he was running out of steam. Running out of ideas. It didn't matter what he did, the selkie took it all as though it was nothing. As though this were just a bit of light fun. A game. A mild distraction on the side of his real focus. Not unwelcome, but not sought after.
Feeling oddly shaken, oddly empty, Smith was slowing. Frowning. He didn't need to breathe, strictly, at least not like some creatures do, but he was breathless nonetheless as he pulled away.
The selkie kept his eyes closed a little longer, making use of Smith's slackening grip to chase the contact, savouring the final kiss.
Then he slumped back against the wall, breathing hard, fingers still loosely tangled in Smith's hair. He opened his eyes, and he was smiling.
"You won't find what you're looking for in there, kelpie," he breathed.
Smith had no idea how to respond to that.
"Smith," he spat instead in correction.
The selkie stroked his hair, and Smith wasn't sure if he liked or didn't like his smile. It was smug and insulting, for sure, but there was something else, too - something vaguely wistful, that looked a lot like pity.
"_Smith_," the selkie corrected himself, humouring him.
A few moments passed. The selkie ran his fingers through his hair, gentle and irritating. A cool very early morning breeze ruffled them both and a bird sang.
"I _am _going in there, Smith," the selkie murmured, gently.
Smith frowned. Didn't quite have the energy or care to scowl properly. "You think I can't stop you?" he grumbled. He flexed his arms, hands still on the selkie's waist. "That I don't have the _strength _to stop you?"
The selkie smiled, rueful, and ran an admiring sort of hand up Smith's arm. Utterly relaxed. "Oh, I'm certain you have the _strength_." He looked up to smile at him, small and sure. "But no, I know you can't."
"How the hell do you figure that?"
"Because I know," he paused, for effect, and to stroke some fingers over Smith's cheek, "you _won't_."
With that - with Smith rendered speechless for what felt like the dozenth time in far too short a stretch - the selkie slipped out from his grip, which he suddenly realised was a lot weaker than it should have been, and strode away. Off along the side of the warehouse, focussed entirely on pinpointing the weak spot in its boundary he'd sensed some time ago. And Smith didn't stop him.
He wouldn't get his promised reward, but that was alright. He'd never cared much for the legendary so-called 'great powers' of the city.
\---
He ran before he could be punished for his discrepancy. It wasn't like he could sink any lower on the city hierarchy.
\---
The selkie survived the encounter, whatever it was, obviously. Smith didn't know the specifics of what went down in that warehouse, but there was no denying the stirring balance of things. Maybe it was a much need shakeup. But who was he to have an opinion on such things?
\---
The first time they slept together, it was a lot less like sleep and much more of a quick fuck at the dark end of an alley in the city.
"You sure know how to show a guy a good time, don't you?" the selkie grumbled against his lips, shifting against the grit against his back.
"Shut up," Smith grunted back. And then, somehow, they were both too lost in the heat of it - the skin, the crush, the sharing power about it - to complain.
\---
The selkie didn't bring his seal coat around anymore. Smith wondered, vaguely, where he kept it.
\---
Smith kept his nose out of ongoing city business for a little while. His focus wasn't there - it was on the selkie himself, who he now ran into on an even more regular basis. For sex, or a make out, or simply some heated words.
But no matter how hard Smith held onto him, he always slipped away in the end. Disappearing around a corner, or through a doorway, or seemingly into the thin air between his hands. To return to causing whatever mayhem was on his mind on the given day. Smith wished he would just _stay still._ He wished he could just _make him_.
\---
"Why _'Smith'_, though?" the selkie wondered aloud one day.
They were laying haphazardly across Smith's bed, located in his tiny hovel of a city home, down a backalley and through a filthy corridor always banging with noise of some sort or other. | 2d3a2c4cdb0b4af290d663215edf17b1 | ['4b957967fb5343958ab13c02afe71d88'] | Smith turned, to see the selkie was smiling at him. Oddly, there was nothing secretive about it. The selkie's expression was completely open. A little pleased, a little relieved, and above all - excited.
Smith felt something strange, too, clear as day. He felt _honoured_.
He heard a growing snarl, and turned back around. The guard's shock had worn off, and her lips were pulling back into a snarl, yellow eyes narrowing, grip shifting on her weapon. There was something distinctly catlike about her.
"Wait." The word echoed out from the broad figure on the other side of the guard. The Circle's head.
She turned to another in the standing half-circle of high-up Circle members, fanning out on her either side on a raised platform, clearly for this exact purpose. "_What _is _that_?"
One member shifted uncomfortably, its twisting branch offshoots swaying a little.
"That is the kelpie, my Lady," the spriggan mumbled, avoiding eye contact. "Clearly its nonintelligence has lead it to follow its selkie companion to both their undoings."
The Lady raised a thick eyebrow, looking back down at Smith. She had something of the build of a dwarf - surly and large and muscled - only much, much taller. She wore something glowing inside a silver casket hung on a chain around her strong neck. "Indeed. Selkie, what say you to this development?"
Smith, with no immediate threats, shifted back to the selkie's side. The selkie, centre stage once more, shrugged at the Lady's question.
"I think that your chances grow ever slimmer by the second." He smiled, serene. He didn't use the correct form of address.
The Lady smiled, wan. "Do you think you can kill me, selkie?"
"Probably," he shot back, musing. "But maybe I don't need to."
She huffed in disbelief at that. "Do you really think you are in a position of leverage right now, selkie? Look around you." She spread her arms wide, indicating the hordes packed into the building's every crevasse, who began hollering and braying, awaiting their promised blood.
Over the noise, she continued: "It's time to wake up from your dreamland, now, selkie. No one gets to do whatever they please in this world. Least of all a mere seal fresh out of the sea." She shook her head, amused. "No, your reign of chaos, spreading an infection of dissent across the city, making lowly creatures like him," - she indicated to Smith - "think they're worth anything, is over."
"Oh," the selkie murmured beneath his breath, as the Lady looked to her guard and Smith curled his hands into fists and spread his feet apart just slightly, readying. "That's a shame."
"Kill them," the Lady ordered in a snap.
The catlike guard shifted and growled, spear braced, but Smith moved first so her eyes fixed on him. The spear swung forward in a movement so sleek it would have skewered a human, but he'd shifted to the side in almost the exact same motion. He groped the air and grabbed it, but no sooner had he done so then she'd jerked it and used the momentum to swung up and sink a heel into his stomach. He stumbled but absorbed the blow and growled, and twisted the spear to bash the end of the thin but weighty metal bar up into her face.
It _clang_ed when it struck and she reeled back, furious, and snarled, and somehow yanked the thing back out of his grip, but she hadn't righted the staff in time to intercept his lunge - hands freed, he grabbed her head and arm, which left her so off balance she hadn't a foothold to prevent him smashing her face down into his knee. Blood spattered and at least one thing cracked loudly and she fumbled at his arm, stunned. Snarling, he braced his hands and began pulling - her body and head ripped apart all he could envision.
"GUARDS!" the Lady barked.
Smith looked up and threw the dizzy, half-conscious head guard aside; the crowd surrounding them - looking half cowed, half furious - rapidly skittered backwards to make room as a ring of more guards entered the cleared circle. About eight, each of different races, each with a serrated spear in hand.
The selkie - unchallenged directly insofar - narrowed his eyes and shifted into more of a fighting stance, shifting surreptitiously closer to Smith. He still didn't look exactly concerned - the shadow of a playful curl remained somewhere at the edge of his lips.
The breath of air was all they got - the guards sunk their spears to their level and charged.
The three in front of Smith swung for him and he couldn't choose between dodging or covering the selkie. As it turned out, he couldn't quite do both - mid-swivel a spear scraped through the top of his shoulder and he hissed in pain. He didn't dare look down, but he was fairly sure the slit was shallow - the spear slid through and was retracted by its owner.
Something in his awareness was missing and he realised the selkie had vanished, but he didn't have time to linger on the thought - forced to make a gamble, he dived under the outstretched spear of the closest guard and made a wild grasp and successfully locked arms around the guard's torso. He swivelled and threw him into a startled comrade, sending them both crashing to the floor.
His regained space to breathe lasted barely a moment before more were upon him. He wasn't sure where the selkie had gone, but there were definitely more than half the guards on him, so he thought it was probably alright.
He dodged a thrust spear, and its deliverer ducked away to avoid a repeat of his previous tactic, but Smith wasn't planning on it - he took the break gladly and turned to deal with the unsuspecting guard behind him, caught a little too close with no plan. |
e252015bdbc643fbbb4cafb0326cf63e | ['4b9635d428c548fe84e2d0e3439b1088'] |
1. Hair
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Bakugou's hair is spiky. Kirishima wants to know why.
Kirishima took a lot of pride in his hair. Every day, he took time out of his day to spike it up to manly perfection. No one could have manlier hair than he did, because no one went to such lengths to be as manly as he was. Then came Bakugou.
Bakugou’s hair somehow managed to stay in perfect spikes with no struggle at all. Even when Best Jeanist attempted to tame his hair, it still fought its way back into spikes with a manly perseverance. Kirishima _ had _ to know his secret.
“Bakugou! Tell me how you style your hair!” Kirishima shouted with manly passion.
“Hah? I don’t care about dumb things like that, Shitty Hair,” Bakugou responded.
As usual, the nickname bounced right off of Kirishima, though he felt indignant that Bakugou would dare insult his manly hair without even telling Kirishima his secrets. This was unacceptable! Bakugou’s unsatisfying answer just made Kirishima more determined to find out the answer. After all, a true man never backs down from a challenge! Kirishima started forming a plan in his head as he and Bakugou walked to their classes.
“Oi, Kirishima,” Bakugou said, making Kirishima snap out of his thoughts. “Why is your idiotic voice actually silent for once?”
“Ah, sorry, man! I was thinking about something,” Kirishima said.
Bakugou narrowed his eyes at Kirishima, as if he were trying to read Kirishima’s mind.
“Tch. Whatever,” he said, looking back towards the school.
Kirishima smiled. His plan was foolproof, and Bakugou would have no choice but to tell him his secret.
The first step of his plan involved gaining intelligence from the source. Kirishima initially wanted to ask Midoriya, since he seemed to know Bakugou the longest, but if Bakugou saw them talking, he might start to suspect Kirishima’s plan. It was unmanly for a plan to fail at the first step, so Kirishima instead decided to look through Bakugou’s room.
His plan was simple: “Hey Bakugou, do you think we could study together tonight? I’m having trouble with the math homework.”
This was true, because Kirishima really didn’t understand the assignment, and Bakugou knew this. What he didn’t tell Bakugou, though, was that studying with Bakugou was an essential part to his super secret manly plan.
“Fine. I’ll come to your room at 7:00 pm, so you better be ready.”
Wait, _ your _ room? That meant Kirishima’s, didn’t it? This wasn’t part of the plan! Kirishima had to think fast.
“W-wait, actually, can we study in your room tonight?” Kirishima said frantically.
“Haaaah?” Bakugou looked at Kirishima, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.
“We’ve studied in my room for like, the past ten times! I’ve never got to even see your room!”
“That’s because you’re the one who needs tutoring, dumbass!”
“Come on, Bakugouuu! It’s _ unmanly _ to keep your room a secret! Oh, unless you’re hiding something. Is that it, Bakugou? What are you hiding??”
Bakugou glared at Kirishima. Kirishima’s eyes widened dramatically.
“Bakugou, could it be...you’re hiding a secret porn collection?!!”
“WHAT THE FUCK?! WHO SAYS SOMETHING LIKE THAT, OF COURSE I’M NOT FUCKING HIDING PORN IN MY FUCKING ROOM!!!” Bakugou shouted, receiving several concerned looks from passerby.
Kirishima burst into laughter. Bakugou growled menacingly in response, which just made Kirishima laugh harder. At this point, pretty much everyone was staring at the two, except people in Class A, who just thought “oh, it’s those two again,” and continued walking. By the time Kirishima and Bakugou reached the building, Kirishima had managed to regain control of himself, and was attempting to steady his breathing.
Just before they reached the door of Class 1-A, Bakugou turned his head in Kirishima’s direction and said, “you better be at my door by 7:00, or I’m not letting you in.”
Bakugou quickly turned his head back towards the door, but Kirishima could’ve sworn he saw a hint of a smile on his face.
Mission success! Kirishima’s plan was in action.
***
At 7:00, Kirishima was waiting at Bakugou’s door with his notes and homework in one hand and his textbook in the other. It was then that he realized that he didn’t leave himself any hands to knock with. Oh no! If Kirishima couldn’t knock, then he would be late, and if he was late, then Bakugou wouldn’t let him in, and then his plan would be ruined! Ok, time to calm down and think. Kirishima needed to use his head. Wait! That’s it!
Bakugou yanked open the door to shout at whoever was banging so obnoxiously on his door, only to find that the instant he did, Kirishima tumbled through.
“WHASLJDHBHDTHE FUCK?!” Bakugou spluttered, as Kirishima landed on top of him.
“Sorry, bro! Neither of my hands was free, so I had to use my head to knock!” Kirishima said enthusiastically, mentally patting himself on the back for his manly genius.
“Idiot. Get the fuck off of me,” Bakugou grumbled, shoving Kirishima off of him.
Kirishima rolled over and picked up his things, happily following Bakugou to his desk, where Bakugou’s notes and homework were already laid out neatly. Bakugou pulled his desk up to his bed, so that they could both sit down. Kirishima flopped onto the bed, making himself comfortable.
He went over his plan once again in his head:
Step 1: Get into Bakugou’s room.
Step 2: Wait a while, then ask to use Bakugou’s bathroom. (Author note: Yes, I know the dorms don’t actually have their own bathrooms, but you know what? I’m the author. I decide things here. So, nyehhh.)
Step 3: While “using” the bathroom, search for Bakugou’s hair products and find out the truth to his manly spikes!
Step 4: Impress Bakugou with your manly deduction skills! Plus Ultra!
Kirishima smiled secretly at his plan. It was foolproof!
“What are you smiling at, Shitty Hair? Did your brain finally melt?” | 016f8c958bcd4ffa99971b21dac55e44 | ['4b9635d428c548fe84e2d0e3439b1088'] | **Summary for the Chapter:**
> If you thought Red Riding Hood breaking into the wolf's house butchered the story, wait until you read this chapter.
Kirishima woke to the sound of birds chirping in the distance. He slowly opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings. For a moment, his eyes remained transfixed on a patch of sunlight filtering through the windows. Kirishima lazily turned around, his warm blanket shifting as his body moved.
Then he fell off the couch.
Kirishima winced as he landed on the floor, panic surging through his system. Where was he? He vaguely remembered a wolf...a very attractive, manly wolf...was this his house? Kirishima’s sleep-addled brain was still too groggy to fully remember. His stomach growled, and he realized how hungry he was. Food first, Kirishima decided. He could figure everything out later.
Kirishima wandered around to the kitchen. A delicious scent wafted to his nose, and he immediately sought out to find its source. He located a basket sitting on top of the counter. Was that what smelled so good? Peeking inside, Kirishima’s guess was instantly confirmed. The basket was filled with delicious-looking pastries, muffins, and bread, and Kirishima inhaled their scents gratefully. Without a second thought, Kirishima began to devour the food in the basket. The food was just as delicious as it smelled! Soon, Kirishima had cleaned the basket of its contents, leaving only a few crumbs behind, as well as various cloths that had been used to hold the food. Before Kirishima could contemplate whether or not to eat the crumbs, he saw the wolf--Bakugou, he remembered--step into the room. Kirishima smiled.
“Hey man, good morning! Thanks again for letting me stay the night,” he said enthusiastically.
Bakugou said nothing, and instead opted to stare at Kirishima incredulously. Kirishima wondered if Bakugou forgot that he had an overnight guest. Then Kirishima realized his hair was down now. Maybe Bakugou was surprised by that? Or was it his dress, which he knew was even more rumpled and disheveled looking, due to him being too exhausted to take it off last night?
“Kirishima…” Bakugou started--Kirishima decided he really liked the way his name sounded out of Bakugou’s mouth-- “weren’t you supposed to deliver those?” he said, looking pointedly at the empty basket in Kirishima’s hands.
Deliver? What was he talking about? Then again, why was Kirishima here in the first place? He followed Bakugou’s gaze down to the basket. Huh, he had a basket just like that yesterday, full of goodies to deliver to--
“Oh.”
“You fucking idiot.”
Kirishima felt his face grow pale. Bakugou’s expression was a mix of amusement and disbelief.
“What am I going to do?!” Kirishima shouted. “I can’t just deliver an empty basket to All Might! Wait...can I?”
“No, you can’t,” Bakugou said, staring at Kirishima as if he were an idiot.
“Asking Aizawa for more is unmanly, and he’ll never trust me with a mission like this again!” Kirishima lamented.
Bakugou rolled his eyes before saying, “Just get more goods then, idiot.”
“Oh yeah!”
Bakugou then walked into the kitchen, pulling open the refrigerator.
“I’m going to fix myself something to eat, then we can go.”
“Wait, you’re coming too?” Kirishima asked, surprised.
“There’s a town nearby, but you’re too much of a dumbass to find it on your own,” Bakugou said, his tail flicking in annoyance. “Also, I need to pick up supplies.”
Kirishima nodded, satisfied with his answer, though slightly offended that Bakugou had so little faith in his navigation skills. He headed to the bathroom, figuring he could at least try to clean up a bit, and also re-spike his hair while he was at it. A few minutes later, Kirishima emerged, and Bakugou was sitting at the table eating breakfast. Bakugou glanced up from his food as Kirishima sat down across from him.
“How is your hair in those shitty spikes again?” he asked, frowning at Kirishima.
“Oh, I always keep a spare container of gel on me! You never know when you might need it!”
Bakugou eyed Kirishima’s dress, which had no visible pockets.
“Where the fuck do you keep it?” he asked suspiciously.
“Some things are best kept secret,” Kirishima said, wiggling his eyebrows at Bakugou, who promptly choked on his food.
Later, Kirishima and Bakugou once again found themselves in the woods, with Bakugou leading confidently. Every now and then, his wolf ears would swivel from side to side, listening for any oncoming threats. As they walked, Kirishima chatted with Bakugou. He did most of the talking, but he did learn some stuff about Bakugou, like how he didn’t grow up in the woods, but built his house there on a dare and lived there ever since. He also complained about three pigs--they were always begging him to cook for them--who he had to build houses for as well, since the ones they tried to build would “topple if you even fucking breathed on them.” Bakugou also talked about a guy named “Deku,” who sounded like a nice enough guy, which was why Bakugou despised him. Deku seemed to constantly attempt to provide sympathy for Bakugou, which Bakugou hated, because he’s “not fucking weak.” After Bakugou got turned into a wolf, he stopped going into town as much, opting to hunt in the forest when he needed food, in order to avoid all the staring from the villagers.
After a few hours of walking, the two came across a swamp.
“What the fuck…” Bakugou muttered. “This wasn’t here before.”
“We did get a lot of rain in the past year, ribbit,” a voice came from the murk. “Are you a newcomer?”
A frog-like girl rose from the water. She had long, dark-green hair that was tied into a bow at the end, and she was wearing a green, yellow, and black wetsuit with goggles on top of her head. Kirishima looked at her with awe, while Bakugou continued to glare at the offending swamp. |
7cbeca37bdac40d8bc7c766c7b907658 | ['4ba7aab5484e46eaaea3d7cf8c597212'] | _Why do you think that Jongho?_
**_jjong_ **
_because I keep seeing this guy everywhere_
_at the mart on the days I work and at the cafe_
_it’s creepy_
****
**_yeo_ **
_don’t worry about him_
_he’s harmless_
**_jjong_ **
_you know my stalker?_
_hyung?_
_WHERE DID YOU GO_
_IS THAT WHY YOU TOLD ME NOT TO_
_ACKNOWLEDGE YOU AT THE CAFÉ_
_???_
* * *
“Oh wow, this is gold!” Yunho, that little shit, was laughing, though San probably shouldn’t expect better.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you knew him?” Demanded San, feeling embarrassed and betrayed. “And why didn’t you say anything?” San turned to ask Wooyoung, who had been snickering to himself.
His friend put his hands up in defense, “Hey, don’t look at me, we figured this out only today and Yeo told me not to tell you.”
San gave Yeosang the stink eye and was about to shout at the boy for being a snake when his crush came to their table with their drinks.
“Hey Jjongie.” Wooyoung greeted the boy, sounding weirdly affectionate.
“Is that his name?” Mingi stage-whispered to Yunho, who was turning red from laughing.
“I can hear you.” Snapped the boy – Jjongie? – before he nodded at Wooyoung and glared at Yeosang.
“I had a reason.” Stated Yeosang, not looking even a little guilty.
“Uh-huh.” Jongho served their drinks, not looking at San even once, “Well, you better give me your reasons when I’m on my break,” He looked at the clock behind him before turning back and glaring at Yeosang, “which is in ten minutes.” And with that, he left.
San face planted on the table, wrapping his hands around his head, feeling miserable. His crush hated him. He thought he was a creep. It was like a nightmare becoming reality and San felt a strong urge to bury himself and never come out.
“Hey.” Wooyoung was poking his shoulder, “Hey, San.” He didn’t bother replying. “You could go talk to him during his break, you know.”
“And what, solidify his hatred? No, thank you.” Because that’s what would happen. His crush would probably glare at him, declare that he was the worst sort of scum, and then leave.
“Or,” Began Yunho, sounding serious, “you could explain yourself, try to make it better. It _is_ Yeosang’s fault in a way. If you had known he was Yeosang’s friend, you would have asked him to introduce you guys, right?”
Wrong, he was a coward.
“Right,” He agreed, lying through his teeth as he sat up, “it’s your fault that this happened.” He declared, pointing at Yeosang. The other boy was staring at him judgementally and San knew that he knew that he was a coward but that didn’t matter. He could deal with Yeosang’s condescendence, they were all used to it.
“What do I tell him, where do I start?” He asked, now nervous and a little excited. Maybe, just maybe, this would work out.
“You should begin by admitting that you are a stalker.” Said Mingi, his expression serious. That lasted for all of five seconds, after which he began giggling, Yunho and Wooyoung following suit. How did he end up with the worst friends ever?
“You should tell him everything.” Yeosang said quietly, ignoring the three and looking at San, “Just tell him everything, it’ll be fine.”
He nodded at that. It was probably the best thing to do.
When the ten minutes were up, San began to feel anxious. His stomach was doing things it wasn’t supposed to do unless he had gastroenteritis and his thoughts were a loop of _I’m going to talk to the prettiest person ever_ and _oh my god he’s going to hate me_ and _I get to see those arms up close, wow._
Yeosang waved at someone behind San, probably Jjongie-guy, and then got up. San got up with him and they walked to the counter, where the boy was waiting. He stared at San with a curious expression on his face. San was glad that he didn’t seem freaked out.
“So?” Asked the boy, as he turned and looked at Yeosang.
“This is San.” Said Yeosang, pointing to him, “And San, this is Jongho, my friend and neighbour.”
“Best friend.” Muttered Jongho, a pout forming on his face (and wow he looked really, really cute, why is life so cruel?)
“Um, thanks?” Jongho was staring at him with a bemused expression on his face while Yeosang was smirking at him.
“Did I–” Oh no, no, no, “did I say that out loud?” Please, no, no, no, no–
“You did.” Affirmed Yeosang, sounding annoyingly pleased. He turned to look at Jongho “The reason why I didn’t tell you about San before was because I did not know that you were the guy he was not-stalking. I connected the dots only after you sent that message today. Anyway, have fun both of you.” And with that, Yeosang left, so abruptly and so quickly that San remained confused for a moment.
“Wait, hyung–” Jongho reached out a hand as if to pull the boy back and slumped against the counter as Yeosang went back to the table. He scanned the café and realised that it was mostly empty, and took a deep breath before turning back to face Jongho.
“Um, so.” he began, and then stopped. How does one salvage a situation like this?
“Well, you could start by telling me why you’re stalking me?” Said Jongho, “Though I cannot guarantee that you will be able to salvage the situation.”
_Since when did I start thinking out loud, what the fuck brain?_
“You’re still doing it.” Jongho said, but he sounded amused. San looked at him, hopeful. “So?” | 5117d4a016d34fa1be3d81514145c0e4 | ['4ba7aab5484e46eaaea3d7cf8c597212'] | No, You
**Author's Note:**
> This is, once again, random. But it was fun to write!!
“Babe, you’re spacing out again.”
“No I’m not, I’m present.”
“You can’t lie to me, that’s against the contract.”
“For the last time hyung, that piece of paper does not count as a contract. I didn’t even sign it.”
“I signed your sign though, it counts.”
“Nuh-uh, it doesn’t. Also, a list of things that only feeds your ego does not count as a proper contract.”
“Yes, it does.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“You’re in stage 1: Denial.”
“And you’re in stage I-lost-count-a-long-time-ago: Pervicacious headassery.”
“Pervi- what – I told you not to use fancy words to sound smart!”
“And _I’ve_ told you I don’t _try_ ; I just _am_ smart.”
“Sure, but stop acting all fancy.”
“I’m not, I’m being normal.”
“Right, and that’s why you used that word, perv- whatever.”
“Yup.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I know and I’m proud of it.”
“Don’t I know that.”
“Don’t you?”
“I do, that’s what I said.”
“I know, but you could have been clearer I think.”
“You don’t get to decide what’s ‘clear’, not when you use fancy words.”
“It’s fancy but it’s perfect.”
“It’s really not.”
“You don’t even know what it means.”
“But I’m right.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Agree to disagree.”
“Never.”
“Suit yourself. I was thinking we could cuddle once we end this argument but I guess we’re not doing that.”
“No! I mean, yeah, let’s cuddle, arguments are stupid anyway.”
“You say that and yet, last week at Yeosang hyung’s place, you kept arguing with Yunho hyung about that stupid word game.”
“He was supposed to use only three syllables, he made us _lose_.”
“It’s not like the penalty was harsh.”
“You’d say that of course, since you’re the one doing the flicking. That shit hurts, trust me. I have been the recipient of that thing for way too long.”
“But not as much as Hongjoong hyung. Or Wooyoung hyung.”
“It hurts me a lot more than it hurts them.”
“That’s a lie.”
“No, it does, because it’s the loml who’s beating me up.”
“Two things: one, did you just abbreviate out loud, because ew? and two, I did not beat you up, it’s a fucking flick, it’s not that serious.”
“That shit hurts and that’s all I have to say about that.”
“You’re a dramatic bitch.”
“No, you.”
“Nope.”
“Yup.”
“We’re arguing again.”
“We’re petty bitches–”
“You’re a petty bitch, I’m above that.”
“–who are in love– what, no, you’re not above or beyond that, bitch.”
“You won’t understand how beyond that I am, you’re too much of a pea _san_ t.”
“You’re not funny.”
“ _You’re_ not funny.”
“Oh, mature.”
“Yes, I am.”
“I’m like a year older than you, I’m right.”
“Age is just a number.”
“So are the number of brain cells we have, and yet you keep count of how many I lose every hour and bring it up in arguments.”
“That’s science, and math is important when it comes to science.”
“That makes zero sense.”
“It makes a lot of sense. You’ve just not evolved enough to understand.”
“Bullshit, you’re spouting bullshit again, stop.”
“You stop.”
“No you.”
“No _you_.”
_“If both of you don’t stop, I’m going to rip your dicks off and stuff it up your holes.”_
“…”
“…”
“Good. Now sleep, it’s 3 am for fuck’s sake.”
“Okay hyung.”
“Okay hyung.”
“…”
“You’re stupid.”
“No, you.”
_Smack. Smack._
_Giggles, and then silence._
“…you’re pouting, aren’t you?”
“No I’m not, shut up.”
“You can’t lie to me, it says so in the contract.”
“You just said that the contract is invalid.”
“Point number one is valid, since it covers both of us and actually makes sense.”
“You can’t do that, it’s either valid or it’s not.”
“I can do anything I want to do.”
“Not regarding the contract, you can’t.”
“Yes I can.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
_“Okay, that’s it, I’m going to count to three and if you continue talking after that, both of you will suffer.”_
_Silence._
(This time, it lasts till the next day)
(“Are you sure you guys are dating?”
“Duh, we love each other.”
“You guys sure show your love in weird ways.”
“You won’t understand hyung, you’re a mere peasant.”
“That’s what you called San last night.”
“No, he called me a pea _san_ t, it’s different.”
“That’s true.”
“Wow, you’re both dumbasses and you deserve each other.”
“Thanks hyung.”
“Thanks Yeo.”
“…”)
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you for reading!! Kudos and comments are appreciated! |
023f0f635b90405182ad6e7e4e9d9851 | ['4bad2876f8474dc9ac38cc6b5b73005d'] | Phone in hand, a towel wrapped around his waist, he composed a message to Hyungwon, telling him he would be there in thirty minutes without even asking if he was home. He quite literally bumps into Minhyuk, the impact almost knocking the towel from him.
“Sorry,” he murmured, hand holding the fabric secure. “Did you find out if Hyunwoo is back?”
“It’s fine,” Minhyuk dismissed, smile still on his face and for some reason, it breaks Jooheon’s heart a little bit. God, he deserves the entire universe, what the fuck. “He isn’t back yet.”
Jooheon nodded. “I’m going to… nip out for a bit. You can stay here if you want, though. I, uh… my friend wants me to meet him, so,” and okay, he lied, but it was for the sake of his own mental wellbeing. “You’ll be okay on your own, right?”
“ _Right,_ ” Minhyuk acknowledged, tugging his bottom lip into his mouth. It was almost like he knew Jooheon was bullshitting him and was in fact just running away but he was too nice to call him out on it. If that was the case, he was thankful. “Go ahead. I’m good.”
There were maybe a hundred things that ran through Jooheon’s mind that he could’ve — _should’ve_ — said, but instead, he nodded once more and slipped into his bedroom, pulling on whatever clothing items came out first and then he was gone, not even bothering to say goodbye to the model. He didn’t have the strength, not when his heart felt like it was shattering and there was nothing he could do about it.
—
He had barely said a word to Hyungwon or Hoseok despite the fact he had been slumped on their sofa for the past two hours, sulking and wallowing in self-pity. Jooheon isn’t a one to cry much, not like Hoseok or Kihyun, but he doesn’t feel well, the stress from his mentality causing physical side effects and his mind is in disarray.
Hyungwon and Hoseok weren’t ones to pry, they knew well that when someone needed space and time that deserved to be respected, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t question him and they had a right to; Jooheon had barged in on them without even asking and hadn’t explained a thing. If the shoe was on the other foot, he’d want to know what was going on.
“I’m probably in love,” he declared, numb and detached, deciding to get it over and done with now opposed to waiting around to be asked what was wrong with him. “I’m like ninety-nine point nine percent sure, actually.”
It wasn’t only the first time he’d admitted it aloud, it was the first time he’d admitted it to himself, too. People had told him that accepting it made it easier, that sharing it lessened the burden but given that he felt no different from how he’d felt keeping it bottled up, he was calling bullshit on that. It’s was a shitty situation regardless of whether he embraced or denied it.
“ _What?_ ” Hyungwon was the first to respond, consternation audible in his tone. Jooheon didn’t fall in love much, not like Hoseok who’d fallen in love multiple times prior to Hyungwon and not like Changkyun who fawned over someone new on a weekly basis, so the anxious tone combined in with the surpise was to be expected. “Are you being serious?”
“Yeah,” he sighed, closing his eyes as if it would shut out his problems. It didn’t.
“Isn’t… isn’t being in love a good thing?” Hyungwon asked, confused. Hoseok had moved over to Jooheon’s side and was petting him soothingly. He’d always babied him and right now, Jooheon couldn’t be more grateful. He needed all the comfort he could get. “What happened? You get rejected or something?”
“You only think that because you two are in a happy relationship,” Jooheon huffed, bitter. Hyungwon and Hoseok’s relationship didn’t start well, though. In fact, it was about as messy as the situation Jooheon was in, if not more so, but that was irrelevant. At least they fixed their issues. “I wasn’t rejected, but… I think I’ve fucked up. I can’t go back home yet. Can I stay here? Just until I clear my head.”
“You can stay here, Jooheon. You don’t even need to ask,” Hoseok answered immediately, earning a sharp look from the other.
“Will you _ever_ stop coddling him and Changkyun or is this a lifelong thing I’m going to have to live with?” Hyungwon asked, exasperated. You’d swear he was the elder of the two sometimes. “Explain what happened first. Why can’t you go back home, Jooheon?”
“Excuse _me_ , you baby them more than I do, you literally cuddle Jooheon until he falls asleep half the time,” Hoseok pouted, interrupting. “You’d hand feed him if he asked; we _both_ do it.”
He wasn’t wrong, but Jooheon needed to talk before it escalated into a Hyungwonho domestic over who coddled him more. | 4b9ab62dad4143f1a193e8c9cc117b9f | ['4bad2876f8474dc9ac38cc6b5b73005d'] |
lover is a day
**Author's Note:**
> let me quickly say: i'm a reader, not a writer so please don't be too harsh, i'm soft (i have had writers block for like four years - i'm basically retired??? then add the fact that i've never done a fic for a kpop fandom AND that i've never written any smut until now...) so anyways, keep that in mind - i really only wrote this because i was tired of joohyuk being NEGLECTED sigh. anyways a huge thank you to kalie, my beautiful beta, i wouldn't have been able to post this without you!! and with that...
The close bond that Jooheon and Hyunwoo shared as step siblings was something that people often marvelled at, admiration mixed with confusion adorning their features when he explained to people that they even shared an apartment together. They weren't teenagers anymore and they came from a wealthy background; Jooheon would often see the gears in peoples heads turning, wondering why were they still living together despite all that? The reason was simple: They wanted to. Granted, it was never intended to be a permanent thing, but for now, it didn't feel any different from living with a friend and so neither of them felt particularly rushed to change their current living arrangement and that was that.
Their parents got married when Jooheon was thirteen and Hyunwoo fifteen. It was at that weird age in which most children lumped alongside a stranger under the pretence that they were now officially siblings, would struggle to accept and understandably so; it was a strange thing to have thrown on your shoulders at that age. They, however, were different in that they’d bonded almost immediately. Jooheon was instantly taken by how focused and determined Hyunwoo was, the complete opposite of him, given that he liked doing everything at a leisurely pace. Hyunwoo seemed to find him adorable from the get go too, doting on him as if he were a baby and not a thirteen year old boy.
Ten years later and they were still thick as thieves; Jooheon still admired him and Hyunwoo’s doting saved Jooheon from having to slave away at his step-fathers company day in and day out. Granted, he was still expected to work there to some degree, but he was never going to have it as hard as Hyunwoo given that the business would be handed down to him. That didn’t mean that he didn’t experience guilt over the fact that he didn’t have to endure what Hyunwoo did. The elder was so lax with him; he didn’t scold him when he didn’t show up at the office for days and he understood that Jooheon’s priority was his music and supported that fully. Had Jooheon been in his position — his whole life set out for him before he was even born — he wasn’t sure he’d be as kind a person.
Honestly, they usually lived in harmony, but that didn’t stop vexation suffocating Jooheon when he’d received a phone call from Hyunwoo that evening whilst he was out with Changkyun.
“Hey, do you mind staying at Kyun’s again?” he asked, although it came out more like a statement. “Minhyuk is coming over.”
“So? I have to work on lyrics. I can’t just not come home, all my material is there,” he complained, irritated.
It wasn’t usually an issue, if Hyunwoo was having someone over or vice versa, they’d let each other know in advance so they could prepare but to have it sprung on him like this was fucking annoying. Not to mention, this mysterious Minhyuk person was coming over weekly and Jooheon was going to get back pain from crashing on Changkyun’s shitty sofa bed at this rate.
“I know, I’m sorry. It was last minute but if he’s over you won’t get lyrics written anyway,” Hyunwoo responded, his tone a mix of pleading and apologetic.
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked, genuinely curious. “Be able to write lyrics, I mean."
“Jooheon,” he sighed, uncomfortable. There was a pregnant pause as he waited for the younger to figure out and say ‘never mind’ but sometimes, Jooheon was a little bit oblivious. “For one, last time I slept with someone when you were working at home you banged on the wall shouting about how you couldn’t focus which was embarrassing for everyone involved and that person wasn’t vocal at all… Minhyuk… can be… sometimes… a little bit.”
It made his body cringe all over, a shudder dancing down his spine as he tried to shake the image that had just been planted in his head back out. He now knew a grand total of four things about Minhyuk: his name, that he was tall and pretty (or so he’d guess, given that he was a model), that he was one year older than Jooheon and that he was… _vocal_. The final piece of information was something he’d have preferred not knowing, but alas.
“Great. Thanks for the mental image, I hate it,” Jooheon mumbled down the receiver. “I’m coming home in the morning. I need to work so get all the sex out of your system tonight, alright? If I walk into the house and you’re going at it then I’ll make sure that marriage arrangement you’ve been putting off is forced on you pronto so I can get my writing finished.”
“Deal,” he agreed, and Jooheon was suddenly convinced that Minhyuk must work magic in bed because he was sure Hyunwoo wouldn’t’ve exiled him out of their house otherwise. “Thanks, Jooheon.”
“See ya,” he said, hanging up and leaning back on the sofa he was situated on. “Well. I’ve been banished from my house. Is it cool if I crash here?” |
52fc1aefd59a4cb4bd69655a9818b0bd | ['4bafb94478a74e6ca23bccb2742da0a7'] | “A History of the Ghost Zone? What the hell is the ghost zone?” I asked Tucker. “No idea…” Tucker said, confused, but he opened the book anyway.
“The Ghost Zone is a supernatural universe where the deceased, who are unable to move on, occupy.” I read aloud. Tucker groaned. “I really didn’t need a mythology lesson.” He said.
“What do his parents do for a living anyway that they have a lab in their basement?” Tucker asked. I shrugged. “Scientists maybe?”
I flipped through the pages and stopped on a picture of a blood red rose with thorns. “Blood Blossom…” Tucker whispered.
“The Blood Blossom plant is a naturally grown Anti-Ghost remedy. Similar to Ectoranium, the Blood Blossom is harmful if it comes into contact with ectoplasm, the common makeup of ghosts. The difference between Ectoranium and Blood Blossoms is that Blossoms do not have to come in contact with the ghost to do harm.” Tucker read for me. “You’re completely sure that you heard him say liquified Blood Blossoms right?” Tucker asked.
I nodded. “But what does this mean? Why would liquified blood blossoms hurt him?”
“I guess we need to know exactly what the Fenton’s do for a living.” Tucker said, closing the books in front of him and going to put them away. I shoved A History into my bag and zipped it up. I got up out of my chair and followed Tucker to class.
“Did you find what you needed?” Mr. Lancer asked us, stopping his lecture. “Yes, sir.” I said, sitting down.
“That’s all the notes you will be taking today, students. Mr. Foley, Ms. Manson, could you come to my desk please?” He asked.
Tucker and I groaned and placed our bags down at our seats before going back to his desk. “I’ve noticed you two spending more time with Mr. Fenton. I would like to thank you for reaching out to him.That aside, in class you missed that Principal Ishiyama wants the junior class to learn more about the town and the people that live here. A project you guys will be doing is to interview some citizens and ask what they do for a living.” Lancer finished. “You may ask other questions as well, but try not to make it too personal.”
Tucker and I looked at each other in awe. “Okay, any citizen?” I asked. Lancer nodded. “Yes. There is a list of people you may choose from, but if you already know who you would like to interview, try to make it so you don’t know them. Try to avoid interviewing students and your own parents.” Lancer said, and shooed us away.
“After this class, lets go bail and interview Danny’s parents.” Tucker said. I sighed. “That seems like it would be too easy. Danny is there and would probably get suspicious.” I said.
“Not if he was acting weird. If what you are saying is right, he is either locked somewhere, or didn’t go home.” Tucker said. I nodded. “Okay.”
///
We waited impatiently for the bell to ring, and eagerly got up and headed towards the door of the school. We headed towards the FentonWorks building, and I sighed to see the same basement window that I had snooped at the other day. “That’s where I saw it. The window was unlocked so I was able to hear what was being said. Danny was also screaming his words, so I know that I heard what I heard.” I told Tucker.
He looked troubled for a second before shaking his head and heading towards the front door. I knocked timidly and waited anxiously for one of them to open the door.
Mrs. Fenton quietly and slowly opened the door to size us up. “Can I help you two?” She asked, her gaze unwavering. “Hi, it’s Sam and Tucker, Danny’s friends--”
“Daniel is unable to hang out today, he’s sick.” She said, her face hardening when I mentioned her son. Weird. I thought.
“Yeah I know, we actually wanted to talk to you.” Tucker finished for me. She seemed surprised and then she seemed fearful.
“What did he tell you?” She asked, as she dragged us through the door. “Nothing? We have a project for school that we have to interview citizens on what they do for a living, etc, and we were wondering if we could interview you.” Tucker said, his voice confused.
Her mouth formed an O and she smiled awkwardly. “Thank you for choosing the Fenton’s. I’m sure you guys are lovely friends for my son.” She said, but I could tell she was hiding something.
“We were just wondering what you guys do for a living. The FentonWorks building is basically a mystery in Amity Park.” Tucker started, already typing on his laptop. I got out the questions Tucker and I had hastily prepared so we would be able to leave school early to interview them (and get more information on what might be wrong with Danny).
“Well…” We all jumped when we heard a bang from the lap, followed by a hiss. Tucker and I looked at each other in worry.
“Sorry, that has to do with what Jack and I do. We are Ghost Hunters.” Mrs. Fenton said. Tucker and I instantly looked at each other. “Ghost hunters, Mrs. Fenton?” Tucker asked.
“I know that you may not believe yet, but trust us when we say, that we have opened a portal into the Ghost Zone.”
Suddenly, the book in my backpack seemed a lot more important than originally. “Wow, how cool. I’m a major lover of anything supernatural.” I said, feigning excitement. I brought out my phone. “Would you mind if I took pictures of you and Mr. Fenton, possibly in your lab?” | e591555938374839b1a4eaf90871f9a6 | ['4bafb94478a74e6ca23bccb2742da0a7'] | “DANNY USE THEM!” She shouted, wiping out a gun and pointing it at me. I froze in my place, staring at the gun pointed at my chest.
She energized it, and continued to point it at me. I raised my hands. “Mom, please stop!” I cried, tears starting to roll down my face out of fear.
She fired and I suddenly brought ice up in front of me to catch the blast. A piece of the ice broke off and struck me across the face. I cried out, feeling blood start to flow down my face.
My mom sighed. “There you go...You should be fine now.” She said, and left the lab. I sat on the ground of the cell behind the ice wall and covered my face in my hands, feeling blood continue to well out of the cut on my face.
I got up and raced to my room, ignoring my sister's protests and my dad’s confused questions. I locked myself in my room and vowed that I would never, ever, come to my mother for help again.
That if I had to, I would defend myself in every I knew how.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> leave a comment to let me know if you are enjoying :)
5. The File and the Bromance
///
_Sam’s POV_
The first thing in the file, was a picture. It was yellow and looked aged, of a baby Danny in his father's arms. Strange stains, possibly from tears, were on the photo. Like someone had cried in memory of the boy on the picture. His mother was in the background, asleep.
Tucker and I looked at each other, not speaking. We looked back down at the photo, moving it aside carefully, as if we would damage it if we were forceful. The next page was a hospital analysis, labeled January 7th, 1998.
_Certificate of Birth_
Name: Daniel James Fenton
Parents: Madeline Renee Fenton and Jack Wesley Fenton
Hospital: Amity Memorial Hospital
“Why do they keep his birth certificate in the file?” Tucker asked, his voice a quiet whisper. He was shaking, out of fear or anticipation….I wasn’t sure.
I moved the birth certificate to the side, holding my breath as a different hospital analysis came up. This one from just two years ago.
_Patient: Daniel James Fenton_
Analysis: Internal bleeding in various places, scarring on his vocal tissue, possibly from screaming. Electrocution scars on back and chest, and on various appendages. Seemingly asleep, but will twitch from time to time.
Report:
Daniel was helping his parents out in their Ghost Hunting Laboratory, and stepped inside the portal to get a closer look to see why it wasn’t working. Tripping over wires, he hit the on button on the inside. Neither Madeline or Jack know how long he was in there, claiming time slowed when he was screaming.
They seem to be under major duress, hoping that their son will wake up soon. There are slight hints of some substance in his blood, but no major symptoms arise that need looking after. When he wakes up, he may experience permanent disabilities, such as a stutter or possibly be unable to speak, due to the scarring of the vocal tissue and the prolonged electrocution.
Tucker and I paused as I read the report. “He was inside that huge machine when it turned on?” Tucker asked me. I groaned in frustration.
“I feel terrible that this happened to him, but there is nothing on this page about the condition his parents constantly beat him up for.” I said.
Tucker read over the report, his eyes lighting up. “Slight hints of some substance in his blood.” He pondered. “Maybe he has something in his blood?”
“Possibly.” I sighed. I didn’t get it. Nothing in this file made it seem like he was some freak of nature. He was just a kid that got electrocuted and could have died. That would have made me appreciate his life that much more.
I set that aside with his birth certificate and the picture, coming across what looked to be a typed journal entry.
Tucker beat me to it, grabbing the paper and reading it quickly. I looked at the pictures underneath the paper, gasping as there was a picture of Danny, strapped to a chair, crying, while his eyes glowed neon green.
“Sam, he apparently started showing signs of ‘a ghostly entity harboring his body’. Now I don’t know what the hell that means…”
I held up the picture. “Meaning he has a ghost in his body? I know a little bit about Overshadowing from that book over there, but he wouldn’t have a stutter. It would be the ghost’s voice.” I told him.
“Maybe the ghost had the stutter?” Tucker offered. “No...The doctor’s report clearly stated that Danny would possibly have a stutter.”
“If his parents are ghost hunters….and he has ghost energy inside him or something, then they are experimenting on him.” I decided.
Tucker sighed, moving the pictures and coming across another report, from a few days earlier. “ _Danny believes that the ghost is apart of him, and every attempt to get rid of the mutation would end up killing him. He firmly believes that we should accept him for who he is, rather than try to fix him._
_I firmly believe that while this ghost may be wearing my son's face, it is trying to save its own skin, using my son’s voice. I have no sympathy for this ectoplasmic entity. It needs to be destroyed._
_Dr. Madeline Fenton._ ” Tucker read.
“Every attempt to get rid of a genetic mutation would kill him though.” I sighed. Tucker shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.”
I sighed. We jumped as my phone starting ringing, the Caller ID showing us Daniel Fenton.
“Hello?” I asked, Tucker pausing from reading. I told him to continue as I left the room, Danny talking softly in my ear. |
9dde39b264444546b98052a3bbbdfb2a | ['4bc4002b150e4f29b7f09ae7a94605bd'] | Ōjirō: It’s simple, Nanoha-chan - you basically just...picture who you wanna contact and...”think at” them, if you know what I’m getting at.
Nanoha: (Erm...like this?)
Ōjirō: [verbally] See, Yuuno? There’s a reason she’s one of my best students.
Yuuno: [headtilt] Your students?
Ōjirō: O, yeah, I didn’t mention that, did I? I’m also her teacher; that’s essentially why she...er, ended up with me. If you will.
Yuuno: There’s...a lot of details I’m missing, aren’t there?
Ōjirō: [eyes darkening somewhat] You could say that; maybe I’ll fill you in after Nanoha-chan goes to bed. For now, though, we’ve gotten a bit off-topic - I believe I’d asked you to explain your part in all this, Yuuno?
Nanoha: Yeah, and why did such dangerous things end up around here?
Yuuno: [looks down] Well...those two are...kinda the same thing, actually. {Cut to flashback with voice-over.} You see, I was working on a dig at an ancient ruin on my homeworld - archaeology is sort of a Scryer-clan pastime - and I unearthed this set of twentyone fragmentary Lost Logia that we dubbed Jewel Seeds. Even apparently being fragments, it was obvious how powerful they were, so I sent them off to the Spacetime Administration Bureau for analysis and safe-keeping -
{Cut back to the room.}
Ōjirō: [holds up a hand with a sweatdrop] Hold on a moment. “Spacetime Administration Bureau”?
Yuuno: Yeah, they often handle things like this. Is there a problem?
Ōjirō: Well, I’ve never heard of them, but...back home, I used to say that “bureaucracy” is the longest four-letter word in the English language.
[Yuuno snickers.]
Nanoha: [looking back-and-forth between the two, lost] Hoeh? But...isn’t that a lot longer than..?
Ōjirō: [bland look] That’s the joke, Nanoha-chan.
Nanoha: [smacks forehead] Right, I knew that.
Ōjirō: Anyway...the point is, it sounds like a governmental organization, and I really dislike those. Not to say that they’re all bad people or anything, but they tend to be unwieldy, static, and unresponsive to the situation and the needs of the people dealing with them, just because of how they operate and how they have to be organized. Not to mention that I object to their existence as such from the beginning.
Yuuno: Hmm...well, I can’t say much about that last part, but I’ve dealt with the SAB before - they’re actually quite responsive and competent, at least in my experience. Though this time {Cut back to flashback.} they never managed to get involved because the ship I sent the Jewel Seeds to them on had some kind of accident - the whole thing’s turned into a huge fiasco at this point, as far as I’m concerned. The Seeds ended up here because this was the nearest world when the accident happened. {End flashback.} So I came here to clean up my mess, you might say - collect all the Jewel Seeds so I can get them where I was trying to get them in the first place. I haven’t had any luck at all, though, unless you count the three from tonight.
Ōjirō: [whistle] Pretty hardcore. Well...at the very least, I’m inclined to help out since they rightfully belong to you but you’re having trouble recovering them - and if they’re all like the three we dealt with tonight, they should make good practice. I think we should sleep on it, though, just to be sure; how does that sound to you, Nanoha-chan?
Nanoha: Works for me! [stretches] My head’s all fuzzy, anyway; I’m too tired to make big decisions right now.
Ōjirō: [chuckle] Yuuno, why don’t you head out into the living-room while I tuck Nanoha-chan in? I figure the couch is as good a place as any for you to curl up for the night, anyway, once we’re done.
Yuuno: [hops down and leaves the room] Alright. See ya in a minute.
Ōjirō: [shifts over next to Nanoha] Man...this promises to be a major bear. We’ll want to start training as soon as we can, and we’ve got school tomorrow...
Nanoha: Ugh, seriously...when are we even gonna find the time?
RH: |That isn’t as great a problem as it sounds - I can construct a mental training simulation that leaves most of your mind free for other tasks.|
Ōjirō: [eyebrows rising as far as they can] Do tell? And we won’t forget half of it afterward?
RH: |Correct. As you may know, a great deal of the human brain generally goes unused; it’s this space that I use for the training.|
Nanoha: [stares] That’s...amazingly handy.
Ōjirō: [looks at Nanoha worriedly] Not to mention that it sound incredibly easy to overdo. [points at her] You’d better keep a lid on it, young lady - I won’t have you burning yourself out. Understood?
Nanoha: Haaaiii. [nods, then tugs on his sleeve] Hey, um...that reminds me of something I’ve been thinking about the last couple of days...
Ōjirō: [headtilt] Hmm? What’s up?
Nanoha: [blushing slightly, looking down] Would...would it be alright if I started calling you “papa”? You’ve been so sweet and comforting to me these last couple of weeks that you’ve kinda started reminding me of Daddy - well, except for when he acted like a... [starts tearing up] ...total airhead...
Ōjirō: [gently pulls her head into his shoulder, petting at her hair and rocking slightly] Shh, shh. Not right before bed - you’ll give yourself another nightmare if you’re not careful.
Nanoha: [sniffles a little but manages to keep herself from outright sobbing] Yeah...thanks. Sorry ‘bout that.
Ōjirō: No apologies, Nanoha-chan - it’s not your fault.
Nanoha: I know, I know. But anyway...[looks up at him] You’ve really started to feel like a father to me, but there’s no way I could call you “Daddy”...so...would that be okay?
Ōjirō: [pushes her slightly away to look into her eyes, head tilted slightly] Actually...I’d really like that. As long as you’re sure. | f8fd0d7fdff9429495839fc607ae42aa | ['4bc4002b150e4f29b7f09ae7a94605bd'] | Ōjirō: [points at RH/Bard.] I'll be countin' on you two to enforce that limit. Understood?
RH: |[chime] Of course, Guest-master.|
Bard.: |[ping] No problem.|
Ōjirō: [nods again] Thanks. [turns to leave, one hand on the door, then looks over his shoulder] Hey, Sis, that reminds me of something I've been wondering about: No cartridge system...a form that's worn rather than wielded...protective and restorative spells, virtually no offense...why is Klarwind so different from Læwateinn and Graf Eisen?
Shamal: [blinks, then peers at KW] ...I'm...not sure, apart from the fact that we fit together well. To be honest, I've never really questioned it. {close-up on KW}
{cut to Chrono at his desk, working on a virtual keyboard}
Chrono: [looks into one corner as a comm request comes in; answers it] Ah, Commodore. What can I do for you?
Leti: Well, for starters, how goes the investigation?
Chrono: Nothing much to report. They've been quiet; there's only been one attack in the past week-plus.
Leti: Hmm, I see…
Chrono: Anything else?
Leti: Actually, yes: If possible, I'd like you and the twins to report back to HQ for a couple of days.
Chrono: [stops keying, headtilts] May I ask why?
Leti: There's been a request for help in searching the Infinity Library - you know how good they are at that. Also, Admiral Graham asked to speak with you in person.
Chrono: [raises eyebrows] Did he? Hmm...well, I'd really rather not leave the investigation, but...I think we can spare that long.
Leti: Excellent. [smiles warmly] I look forward to seeing you again.
Chrono: [chuckle] Same to you. I'll see you soon. [closes the link and resumes working]
{segue through shot of HQ exterior to Chrono/twins walking down a corridor}
Lotte: [hands behind head] Wonder who wanted help in the Library…
Aria: Probably someone who wants information _now_.
Chrono: [nod] It didn't sound like it was someone who just isn't any good at searching. [all three turn into a room whose door opens, revealing a long couch facing a smaller one with a table in between; Chrono's eyebrows lift at the person seated on the smaller couch] Yuuno!
Yuuno: [perks and looks toward the door] Oh, Chrono! I didn't expect to see you again so soon. [stands and meets the trio halfway between the door and his seat] How have things been?
Chrono: [shrug] Busier than I expected. Originally I was on leave, but then a case fell in my lap, so the Captain went on leave instead.
Yuuno: Heh. No rest for the wicked, eh?
Chrono: [pokerface] Something like that.
Lotte: [walks up to peer closely at Yuuno, sniffs] Why's he smell like rodent..? [poink] Hey, you're the one who gave Lindy that disc for the girls!
Yuuno: [blink] Eh? Well, yes, that was me...how'd you know about it?
Aria: We were there when she gave it to them.
Yuuno: [nervous] Ahh...I-I see. Uhm...Chrono? Who are these two?
Chrono: Admiral Graham's familiars, and my tutors - {closeup on each} Rizzelotte taught me how to handle myself in close combat, and most of what I know about long-range magic came from Rizzearia. They'll also be your help, assuming you're the one we're here to meet.
Lotte: His help? [wraps her arms around Yuuno, pulling his head backward into her cleavage and gnawing on it gently] This tasty little lunch is the one who wants to poke his nose around the Library? I just wanna eat him!
Yuuno: [flailing] Chrono, help!
Chrono: [shrug, smirk] Once he's done with you, I could care less what you do with him.
Yuuno: _Wha~?!_ [Lotte gives him an evil grin, then tackles him behind the long couch, cackling gleefully]
Aria: [looks on amusedly] So, just how do you know him? And who is he?
Chrono: Yuuno Scryer - you've probably heard of the tribe. [Aria nods] He was one of the people who helped out during the Jewel Seed case. [thinks for a moment] Actually, I think he was the last one you hadn't met yet.
Aria: [off-screen while Lotte's tail is shown flicking above the back of the couch] Ooh, that was him? I remember you saying he held his own against full-blown mages and familiars without so much as a device.
Chrono: Yeah, he was definitely impressive. I've never really seen what he can do outside of battle, though; you'll have to let me know.
Lotte: [sits up behind the couch, licking her lips with an impish smile] Yummy. [hops the back of the couch, landing on a cushion and sprawling]
[Yuuno hauls himself up to drape his arms over the couch, face now covered in lipstick marks and looking thoroughly stunned]
Aria: You know...despite her being my twin sister, sometimes I just can't understand what excites her…
Chrono: [eyerolls and headshakes] How did I ever getting tutored by someone like that..?
Aria: [nudges him with an elbow, smirking] Hey...in exchange for having to put up with her, you also got me.
Chrono: Heh, true. At any rate, I have an appointment with the Admiral, so if you'll excuse me… [turns toward the door, waving]
Lotte: [waves] Have fun, little crow~!
Yuuno: [wearily looks to Aria] Couldn't you have helped..?
Aria: [shrug] You honestly think _anyone_ could control her?
Yuuno: I suppose you have a point there… [looks toward Lotte, who gives him another evil grin, startling him slightly and prompting a nervous one of his own] ...Ehehe…
{cut to shot of Signum/Shamal's closed bedroom door from the outside}
Hayate: [off-screen] Mari-san~! Shamal~! Dinner's ready!
Shamal: [inside the room] We'll be right out, Hayate~!
[electrical snap]
Mariel: [in the room] _Yeek!_
Nanoha: [leans in from off-screen to peek toward the door] Mari-san..?
Shamal: [panicked] Keep a hold of it, Mari! Don't - [Nanoha startles at a loud _clunk_ ] Ohhhh noooo…
Læw.: [in the room] |Ooh, Das ausgesehen schmerzhaft. <Ooh, that looked painful.>|
Mariel: Wait, wait, I can fix it! [sparking sounds] There.
[Ōjirō leans in above Nanoha, similarly peering toward the door] |
98d018de7764407dae78ed0b35558e78 | ['4bc77ba74cc548af947334bacfce144c'] |
Dave: Be a Good Strider
The game was over. It had been for months. Everyone who had survived was living in a large house, secluded from the rest of the world. Things were slowly getting back to normal. At least, as normal as they could be.
Dave had been avoiding Dirk since the end of the game. It was subtle, but Dirk noticed it. How Dave seemed to exit the room just as he entered it. How their conversations never lasted more than a few minutes. He didn’t understand why, but he was determined to find out.
Dave was sitting at his desk with his laptop, mumbling rhymes under his breath. He looked up as the door opened and saw Dirk sillhouetted in the doorway. His back straightened up and he took off his headphones.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” said Dirk. Dave’s eyes grew wide under the shades.
“What do you mean?” Dave’s voice was thick with fear.
“You never want to be in the same room as me, you never talk to me. What did I ever do to you?” Dave stiffened and his breaths came in short gasps. “Dude are you okay?” Dirk asked.
“Get Rose,” was all Dave said. Dirk exited the room, walking as quickly as he could with out running. He turned down another hallway and practically ran right into Kanaya.
“Oh, hello Dirk,” she said.
“Have you seen Rose?”
“I believe she is in the lounge. Why do you ask?”
“I need to talk to her.” With that, Dirk was off, leaving a puzzled Kanaya in his wake. Within minutes he was at the lounge. Inside Jade was talking animatedly, telling Rose and John a story.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I need to borrow Rose,” Dirk said.
“What’s wrong?” Rose asked.
“Somethings up with Dave, he’s freaking out.” Rose’s face grew solemn and she stood.
“Where is he?”
“In his room.” Rose took off running, with Jade and John following quickly behind.
They reached Dave’s room shortly.
“You three stay out here while I speak with Dave,” Rose said. Jade opened her mouth to protest, but closed it at the look on Rose’s face. Rose entered the room.
Dave was huddled up on his bed, sobbing. Rose sat down and wrapped her arms around him. He buried his face in her shoulder. They sat like that until Dave’s sobs subsided and became hiccups. He sat up and wiped off his face.
“I suppose you want to know what happened,” he said.
“If you feel up to telling me.” Dave sighed.
“He just looks so much like Bro.”
“And you miss him?” Dave laughed.
“No, that’s not it.”
“Then what?”
“It’s nothing I’m just being stupid.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s not nothing.” Rose’s voice softened. “Did he hurt you?”
“No, y’see, that’s the thing, dude never laid a hand on me outside of strifing. Even when I did get banged up he always patched me up. Always. He taught me how to be a Strider. Guess I forgot how.”
“Dave, your worth as a person is not determined by how good of a ‘Strider’ you are.”
“You sure about that?” Rose frowned.
“Why are you afraid of him then?”
“I’m not afraid of him.”
“Then why, when he speaks to you alone for the first time in months, did you panic?” Dave was silent. “You mentioned strifing. Tell me about that.”
“Look Rose, I know you fancy yourself a therapist but I really don’t need this.”
“I’m sorry if I came off in that way, I assure you I only ask out of concern. I care about you Dave, you’re my brother. So, tell me about the strifing.”
“Everybody fights with their guardians, it’s not a big deal.”
“Yes, well most people’s guardians aren’t holding swords.”
“He was just teaching me to protect myself.” Dave’s voice lacked conviction.
“But he hit you.”
“Only when I was too slow to block him. And he always bandaged me up afterwords.”
“That hardly exuses his actions.”
“He never meant to hurt me. He loved me, I know he did.”
“Did he ever say it?”
“What?”
“Did he ever say that he loved you?”
“Well, not in so many words, but he never had to. That’s not what Striders do.”
“I don’t think being a Strider is perhaps the healthiest thing to be.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He abused you Dave. Physially and probably emotionally as well. You don’t owe him anything.” Dave looked like Rose had smacked him.
“He didn’t abuse me, Rose!”
“Then what do you call it? What do you call it when he’s hurting you with a sword? When he’s brainwashing you into hiding all of your emotions? What do you call it when you can’t even face his memory without fear? Because I call it abuse.”
“It doesn’t really count though…” Dave trailed off.
“Of course it counts. You got hurt, and that matters. You matter.”
“So what happens now?”
“What do you want to have happen?”
“I don’t think I can handle being around Dirk right now.”
“Then I’ll keep him away from you. Anything else?”
“Don’t tell anyone else about this, please.”
“I promise. Your secret is safe with me. I would, however, recommend seeing someone about this.”
“I don’t need a shrink.”
“Not need, perhaps, but it can help to talk about things.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever.”
“I’m going to go talk to Dirk now, you take your time and come out when you’re ready.” Rose exited the room. Outside, Jade, John, and Dirk were waiting.
“What was it?” Jade asked worriedly.
“Just a panic attack, they run in our family.”
“Yeah, Roxy gets ‘em too,” added Dirk.
“As for you, mister Strider, you are to stay as far away from Dave as you possibly can.”
“What? Why? I didn’t do anything.”
“I’m sure you didn’t, but your presence seems to have triggered this attack and we would like to avoid further instances.” | 89f7768d3e824d108e46ff98673e1e11 | ['4bc77ba74cc548af947334bacfce144c'] | “You can’t just forbid me from seeing him!”
“Let me rephrase, if you go anywhere near him, I will fucking kill you.”
“Rose!” John gaped at her.
“Now leave,” said Rose. “I need to speak to John and Jade.”
“What the fu-”
“Leave.” Dirk and Rose glared at each other for a moment before Dirk turned around and walked off.
“What the fuck was that about?” asked John.
“Dave has asked me not to tell you the specifics, but being around Dirk brings up certain unpleasant memories that he would like to forget.”
“Memories? Like of Bro?” Jade furrowed her brow.
“He asked me not to say. And it would be best if the two of you would refrain for mentioning this incident to anyone else.”
“Of course,” John said. Jade nodded in agreement.
“But will he be okay?” she asked.
“Yes, he will be fine. He’s just going to need a little time to recover. Panic attacks can be quite frightening. He will come out of his room when he’s ready.”
“So what do we do?” asked John.
“Treat him like you normally would, and don’t mention Dirk or Bro. Now let’s head back to the lounge and give him his space.” Rose placed a hand on each of their backs and guided them away from Dave’s room. Jade glanced back over her shoulder, but said nothing.
***
“You avoid him too.” Dave sat down on the couch where Jake was reading.
“I’m sorry, avoid whom?” Jake set his book down.
“Dirk. You avoid him.”
“Yes, well, breakups can be messy. It’s true I don’t find my self overwhelmed witha desire to speak with him these days.”
“Is that it? Just breakup stuff?” Dave sounded disappointed.
“Why do you ask?”
“I was just trying to see…” Dave stared into space for a few seconds. “Nevermind, it’s probably nothing.”
“Wait a second chap, what were you trying to figure out?”
“I just wanted to see if he really was like my Bro. If he acted the same way.”
“Well, what did your bro act like?”
“I was just wondering, did he ever… did he ever, y’know, hurt you?” Jake was taken aback.
“Well, of course not. He never layed a hand on me. What makes you think he would?”
“It’s nothing. But did he ever hurt you, like, not physically?” Jake blinked hard.
“Well, I suppose he had a bit of a temper…”
“And he said things that hurt didn’t he. Made you feel like it was your fault, right?”
“I guess so. What are you getting at?”
“It’s just, that’s how Bro used to talk to me. He always made everything my fault. Said I wasn’t acting like a Strider should. I thought maybe you’d understand.”
“I think I do. He never told me to act like a Strider, but he did have a habit of yelling at me for not answering his messages. Though I suppose that was probably my fault.”
“Or maybe that’s just what he wants you to think. Maybe it was never really your fault. Maybe none of it was our fault.” Dave looked at Jake imploringly.
“I think perhaps you’re right. He always was very controlling. Perhaps that’s just him, just the way he is.”
“So you don’t think it’s my fault?”
“No, Dave, of course it’s not your fault. If he hurt you that’s his problem, not yours.”
“Thanks dude,” said Dave, straightening up. “Nice to know I’m not the only one he ever fucked with.”
“I suppose it is nice to see I’m not alone. Nobody else really gets it. I mean, Roxy and Jane are trying but they don’t quite understand.”
“Yeah, I know that feeling. Karkat keeps insisting that I should spend more time with Dirk. Keeps pulling the whole ‘family’ schtick. Anyways I’m gonna go, it was nice chatting with you.”
“Yes, I feel the same. Goodbye.”
“Bye.” |
c4c5e4ce94c44655847832f50515380e | ['4bcfaff4eb204b4c88ee5ab014a19a97'] | \- The thing is - Mick buried his fingers in silver silk hair Snezhana, - it- the boy.
-You fell in love with a guy? - Snezhana not surprised, - great!
-You think so? - Mick extremely surprised; he was ready for anything, but not this.
\- Yes, it's just fine, - she snorted, - and you're worried about such a trifle? What foolishness. Will introduce us?
-Okay.
-Now go to sleep. You are very pretty exhausted; - she kissed Mick`s warm lips curled up next in a ball and fell asleep. Mick, squinting eyes, looked at his wife rolled over on his stomach, buried her in the shoulder and fell asleep.
Ben slept in the next room, and he was not troubled by nightmares. Perhaps it was that there was Mick, and maybe Ben himself has warned that where Mick is a nightmare to do anything.
4. Chapter 4
The morning was marked by the emergence of a new bag with a broken body. At this time no luck the old lady walking a dog, her dog decided to check out another pile of garbage. Have checked the result of the inspection was the birth of a new corpse, heart attack in woman and headache detectives.
Of the heads were carefully cut out the tongue, eyes, ears, and extracted teeth. Hands and feet lost their nails, the body of the penis. But his eyes and penis in the bag was not observed. Was not on the trash was not, the first two bodies - it too was missing.
Was not located Not enough sleep Mick to the jokes of coroners and they sat down on his favorite skate and went.
-I think the collector? Mellon, you generally hear us?!
-Leave him; - said the second, - he sleeps on the go.
-What in the city of Angels is? Terrible So?
\- Movie maker, - was the first coroner was closer to the truth, but at the time no one understood.
-Have you finished practice jokes? - Angrily asked Mick. Max was late, and Mick`s is angered.
\- Yes, well, our surgeon will see, and send it to the conclusion.
-Rather pathologist.
\- What is the single difference, - grinned the second,- the corpse is here, but you need to find some motivation.
-Okay, - but before the "Mustang" Mick`s, famously stopped the motorcycle Max`s.
\- Else?
-Yes, - replied Mick, - a body of white men twenty-five years, dissected, most likely a hacksaw.
-Hey, not oturai we have bread! - shouted one of the coroners.
\- Go, let - Mick irritably waved his hand.
\- I'm sorry I was late, - Max was cheerful and companion looked openly
\- I did not sleep, - said Mick, - and didn't eat Breakfast...
-No problem, - grinned Max,-will be back in the area to sleep.
-In the area we will be back, but then we go to the TCL Chinese theatre.
\- And why there?
\- To search for traces of Sophie hunter.
-This, - Max frowned eyes,- friend your friend?
\- Yes. While the pathologist tries to shake from the new carcass data, we will check the theater and find out where she managed to disappe-e-ear! - Mick finished his speech with a long yawn.
-Ah, - Max closed his left eye, - what if she just ran off with the new guy?
-All can be, - Mick shrugged - we need to find evidence and ... everything.
\- Who's he?
The day promised to be warm, and max did not want to return to the site. He wanted to find out about friend Mick`s all that he was interested in. Because he really was jealous of Mick`s to this bin.
\- Actor from London.
\- Actor?! Do you want to say that yesterday's type - actor?
-Yes, what?
\- Anything I prettier.
-And why you told me this?
\- Simple. I'm prettier, - Max rolled his shoulders, making his leather jacket, decorated with many rivets, stretched. Pulled stomach, which was walk meter his dark short hair and hung on the face of duty Hollywood smile in thirty-three teeth,- though I'm handsome?
-And?
-I you don't like?
\- I work with you for the fourth year, you're a very good friend, but I don't understand how beautiful you are or not, - said Mick, - only what's good about you, except your personal qualities, eyes... the color of the sky of early spring.
\- Really? - Max seemed astonished,- and all?
\- I eat all for now and then we go to the theater and.... I sleep.
While driving to the theater, Mick slept, threw back his head and quietly breathing heavily. Then he woke up and started to work. But five hours of nothing Sophie vanished leaving no clues.
5. Chapter 5
They were standing in the storage room of paramount pictures. By Mick`s were frightened Snezhana and Sophie, but the opposite - the kidnappers. Mick freed the captive, suddenly visited two agricultural farms, but to leave them failed.
_______________
Three weeks passed since that moment, as Benedict turned to Mick`s. From Sophie had not received any calls, Ben lived in the house Mick`s. The kidnappers, if any existed, showed no signs of life. They demanded a ransom. It was extremely strange.
With corpses it was the opposite; finally, the guys were starting to get clues. And on this evidence it became clear why the corpses were split. Someone worked on the creation of a snuff film.
_______________________
\- Oh My God! Mick? - Max called his partner, pulling him from studying the list of evidence.
\- What happened?
-You look, - Max pointed to the computer monitor. There are several men busily and methodically tore to pieces a young black girl.
-What is? - Mick had gone so pale, as he allowed the sun. | 0dc9426724414426aba4b04d94e15cc3 | ['4bcfaff4eb204b4c88ee5ab014a19a97'] | Suddenly the camel is air,
So you found me.
You found in the Sands of the oasis
You watered me.
I whispered: "Oh, you Saladis,
And I feel like such a pig!"
Like the date palm,
It inclines obediently
Before the wild sandstorm,
You, face me closer,
Whispered softly, "Jackie,
If you were my obedient servant,
Whether you're the bravest man I,
I will buy you a song,
Kiss you hot!"
We are now in the desert I go
Camel air.
I Saladis, obedient servant,
And she kisses hot!
106. I was...
I was walking along the river Bank,
Throwing stones into water —
All this seemed to me,
When I was high.
I drew your hair
And brought to face,
And kissed your scythe
Oh, my dear Louis!
I kissed your shoulder
So that was hot,
And so that the heat of the fire of love
Burned us to the ground.
To part I had with you,
Dad's money is not found,
Your father too was rich,
And evil was your dear brother.
Now you — dear Madam,
Your husband — Jean-Claude van Damme.
Do you have a house, cars, kids,
And you're like a bird in a gilded cage.
And my stay —
On the couch and in the tub
Drugs, wine,
Me, right, anyway.
I miss thee here,
I'm tired of earth.
I'll jump from the bridge
I'm coming for you, void!!
107. Whose bones...
Whose bones whiten in the gloom of the basement?
We you tell about it first,
As students of Professor ate,
To avenge himself cool was able.
Six brave came to the Institute —
Associate Professor Lapshin along the corridor.
Tripped tripped and dragged here...,
The Professor squirms and yells loudly:
"I will forget everything, the seminar will cancel!
That didn't prepare, don't blame you!
I will put credits for the year!"
But this number will not work.
Her mouth gagged with a cloth slop,
Six bold were happy...
Quickly tied up in the basement and suffered,
Pile of Newspapers for the fire store.
Associate Professor Lapshin using a rag huskily breathed,
Dirty basement she saw.
Someone from the paper lit a fire,
The knife was pulled out; what is sharp.
Associate Professor Lapshin scream could not,
Not giving a word, she died.
Quickly fried dead body,
And started with an appetite to work.
Dry bones they gnawed,
Fingers they licked,
Bones left in a dark basement
That's about all we have told you.
108. Walking under
Walking under a pink Bush
Slowly he waved a tail;
And wild boar,
And angry lion,
Showing his fierce anger,
Resigned, opened his mouth,
And long sad roar,
Announcing surrounding hills
And distressing the residents minds,
In the mountains continued
Died.
But this terrible
Evil beast
You're here I can't believe —
Scaring the flies roared
And beat his tail,
And resting, he roared
And echoed the hills,
Lingering roar,
Scaring the mind stray cows;
And the echo answered
Frozen on green Dale.
109. Oh, mistress forest!
Oh, mistress forest!
You plagued my heart,
A star in the darkness like that
And how DOE you're so shy,
You light like a bird,
There in the bushes, big flutters
Not disturbing the thin branches.
All of you combined —
The sound of running water and the whisper of the wind,
Songs of the pines and the rustle of the forest.
Your Golden spit,
like a waterfall in the sun
Also falls from the top,
Bottom curls forming.
Twilight forest temple
And green darkness of the grove
All in your eyes sparkles.
Fresh strawberry scarlet,
Sour Shine cranberry bog,
And a tantalizing taste of Rowan —
All in your lips merged.
Songs of the Nightingale forest
And the Robins fluffy,
And whiskered Warbler —
It's all in your voice;
Then it sounds like the noise of the forest,
He is in the rustle of the rain,
He is in the waves lapping the rocks,
He echoed,
Returns strengthened.
I'd turned into a bird
Or would the animals of the forest,
To thee, to admire
And wear such flour,
What words cannot Express.
I turned into the wind,
To caress your slender body,
In hair make noise beautiful
Fanned the breezes off of them while running.
In the rain I would become,
To the gentle stream,
To gentle drops,
Wash your stately mill of birch,
And to flow between the fingers,
And your long neck,
On the shoulders of your Swan;
To conceal you from the eyes,
The greedy eyes of the forest spirits.
I'd be a dark night,
Guard your sleep deep,
Singing night-spell,
Cast a magical dream,
The mouse on the floor to rustle,
Spirits of lust, spirits of anger
From the bed to drive away.
You are the mistress of the forest!
I sang this song,
I would compare with lynx —
Also affectionately meow,
scratching till it bleeds.
110. Hippie
Hippie is not a beast, not a bird,
He is committed to the steepness!
Hey, everybody, look at me!
I — cool! Do what I do!
Hey!
Look at my crest!
Look at what my jacket!
Hey girl, look at me!
Do what I do, baby!
Hey!
We at country cool guys!
But we're not vicious animals!
Hey, guys, look at us!
This song is so dope.
Hey!
111. We are funny guys
We are fun guys
Banks are robbed on their way!
Not the Sheriff, not the bloodhounds
Never never find us!
Cleaning up banks
Till the last leaf,
The Sheriff shrugs —
"It's a mystery!"
We are brave guys
Banks are robbed on their way!
Not the Sheriff, not the bloodhounds
Never never find us!
We are walking along the dirt roads,
The peaks and valleys of sun,
We Rob banks and trains,
And luck always smiles!
We are nice guys!
Robbing banks along the way!
Not the Sheriff, not the bloodhounds
Never never find us!
112. Here stands an old house
Here stands an old house - |
1119bf33a3884f169894a504db1efa26 | ['4bd4fc3713674f68b271003f1ba093d3'] | **Author's Note:**
> Title taken from Frankenstein novel by Mary Shelley. Wanted to make something like this but don't know where to take it...enjoy!?
Sherlock remembers well the first time he thought a boy was beautiful.
They were very young, about 8 years old probably. His name was Henry. It was a soft, smiling summer day, and in this memory, they were on the beach near the Holmes family household playing Pirates (Sherlock’s favourite, of course), swishing their feet in the effervescent water and slashing their cutlasses in the warm, hazy air. Sherlock called over to his friend:
“Bluebeard! Quick! Batten down the hatches, the East Wind’s coming!”
“Aye, aye, Yellowbeard!”
Henry was perching on a large, cliff-like rock, holding a vehemently ferocious, yet rather lovable stance. He was a radiant, spritely young fellow. Although short in height, he seemed to skip and stride at a great pace with reckless childhood vigour. Like honey, his hair was silky, flaxen and flowing, yet it was inextricably curly. His beige skin was sprinkled with russet freckles, and it glowed with his bright spirit and verve. In Sherlock’s eight-year-old mind, the image was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.
Promptly, he popped down from his cliff and ran to their makeshift boat, which was a mishmash of twigs, flatter, larger stones and other appealing materials. Unfortunately, in this excitement, his tearaway character got the better of him as he fell forwards onto the sand, skinning his knees in the process. Immediately, Mrs. Holmes rushed to aid the boy who was constantly affirming his wellbeing, yet who had tears glistening in his eyes. The sight of the boy showing such bravery and courage, yet the weakness alongside it, made Sherlock feel an empathy so strong, he felt himself go weak at his knees, and quietly shed a tear, too.
Propitiously, Sherlock pulled himself together, proceeding to declare that he knew exactly how to deal with this sort of wounds. He rushed down to his house - it was only 100 yards or less away, and he reassured his mother he wouldn’t be gone long and he knew what he was doing - and swiftly returned with a damp cloth and a bandage dressing. When he returned, Henry was seated on a picnic bench, being comforted by Mrs. Holmes.
“Here. Put this on,” Sherlock instructed in his small, yet firm voice. “It’ll stop the bleeding so fast.”
“Thanks.” Henry watched closely as his mother did as Sherlock explained. Sherlock and his mother exchanged knowing smiles, before they both turned their attention back to the injured boy. Henry’s blondish hair cascaded down in front of his face as he observed Mrs. Holmes applying the dressing to his knee. The glint of the low, red sun on the shiny tendrils was enough for Sherlock to be completely absorbed, infatuated, rather, making him forget about the tears in his eyes and bloodied knees.
These days, Sherlock always believed that beauty was a construct of childhood impressions, influences and role models. Maybe that’s why he loved John at first sight. | 916d62d6b3104117bb3bbd68f6f89b42 | ['4bd4fc3713674f68b271003f1ba093d3'] | “No, I just meant lying in bed with you is quite nice. The tea’s shit, you’ve made it wrong.” A smile is pulling at the corners of his lips.
It’s a crescendo of a vocalisation when Sherlock retorts: “ _Hey!_ ” He elbows John in the bicep. “Cheeky sod. I think it’s nice.”
John feels a vibrating warmth resonating through his bones. “Well you would,” he interjects. For the sake of hilarity, he sniffs it and winces. “Cor, what have you done to it?”
At this point, they’re giggling, just like the first time they laughed together in the hallway after that manic chase.
Sherlock flippantly waves a hand above him with an air of femininity and innocence. “I have never done anything wrong, ever, in my life, John.”
“Mmm … ” There are a few moments that come to mind.
“You’re supposed to say ‘I know this, and I love you.’”
“I do love you.”
“Well, I love you, too.”
“ _Well_ , you’re really bad at it.” Except he isn’t, not really.
“How so?”
John finds Sherlock laughably ignorant. “You _killed_ me for those two years, Sherlock!”
John’s signature line - bringing up the Fall. “ _I_ killed me too! And I came back! I don’t see why you’re still making such a big deal out of it!”
John’s decided he’s too tired for this, and with a cheeky smile, his last line is, “Piss off. We’re too old to be having squabbles.”
Ah, mornings like these. Retirement suits them. They can often pass many minutes, even hours, like this. Chatting and taking the piss and giggling.
They end the erratic commentary by sighing, and John kissing Sherlock’s temple, followed by tracing his neck with his fingertips. “I love you really”. And Sherlock feels it was worth being born just to hear him say that.
**Author's Note:**
> "I hear the wind blow, and I feel it was worth being born just to hear the wind blow." - Fernando Pessoa |
5cb24c2c76424acab0993b44e556996b | ['4bd7fe078a424b7f86341cf648477f39'] | Simple Solutions
The campfire crackled merrily, and the heat was almost enough to drive off the chill. Herah continued to not even _remotely_ understand Bull's tendency to disdain shirts, especially when they were out in the much cooler Hinterlands. Avoiding such silly ideas was definitely one benefit of being raised outside the Qun.
Never mind that whole 'armor preventing stab wounds' thing. She'd heard his explanation for not wearing armor, and the idea was so patently absurd to her she knew it was beyond her ability to change his mind about.
"Hey Bull, I have a surprise for you." Herah stood up and plucked a small, sealed jar from her belt pouch.
"Is this a surprise I'm going to want to leave for?" Varric eyed them both.
"It's perfectly innocent, I'll have you know."
Dorian muttered something undoubtedly snarky under his breath.
"A surprise, kadan?" Iron Bull arched an eyebrow. What sort of surprise would she have out here?
"Yes. You know how you were complaining to Varric earlier about the lack of horn cream?" She started to walk behind him.
"Yeeees?" Bull tried to turn his head to look at her, but she roughly grabbed his horn and faced him forward again.
"Well, you're dumb. What, do you think we Tal'Vashoth all go around with itchy horns all the time? You could've asked, you know. I have some."
"...oh."
She uncapped the jar and scooped up some of the cream with her fingers. "My mother made this, actually," Herah explained as she smoothed it around the base of his horns. The smell of mint wafted up as it warmed. As she worked it into the skin it melted and so did he. Herah ended up widening her stance to allow Bull to lean back against her.
"This is _better_ than the stuff back home. Thanks, kadan."
"You're welcome." She tucked the jar back in her pouch.
"Could I-"
"Have that? No! It's mine." She grinned. "If you want more, you'll have to ask me." Her laughter echoed across the camp as she strode to her tent. | f71d357ca8cd428b922fa9353c5e3ae4 | ['4bd7fe078a424b7f86341cf648477f39'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> SPOILER WARNING: The first chapter mentions some of the aftermath of...uh, the thing that Blackwall does. If you haven't finished the game, or at least gotten past...that point, you might want to wait.
There were benefits to having a former Ben-Hassrath as a lover, the best of which was how little sometimes needed to be said between them. All she had to do was weave her way through the tavern patrons and stand by his chair.
"Kadan," he said, rising to his feet. "I take it sitting in judgement of Blackwall was a little rough on you."
Herah Adaar nodded, shoulders drooping. "The idiot's back where he belongs now, though. I'm sure Josephine will have a mess to clean up, what with me burning favors to drag his ass here, and then whatever results of me setting him free. Sure, he pledged himself right back to us, but I'm sure someone's having a tizzy somewhere."
"Kadan, you're Tal-Vashoth leading the Inquisition. Several someones are having a tizzy at your mere existence." He slapped her ass, hard enough to get several patrons glancing in their direction. "Go to your room. I'll meet you there. With the mood you're in, I think I need to get something first."
~~~
Herah fell facedown on her bed while she waited, lacking the will to do anything else. She focused her thoughts intently on how much her ass still smarted rather than doing any further pondering about the weight of the world on her shoulders.
There was such a thing as too much.
The stairs creaked as her balm for all those ills came up the stairs. "Well, since you're already on the bed, kadan, I guess we can start there."
"We'll have to, unless you want the wall. They're still repairing my desk from last time," Herah muttered into the blanket. "You should have seen the look on Josie's face when they hauled it out of here, Bull."
"I prefer the look on her face when she walked in on us that one time. I couldn't even tell which of us she wanted a piece of more." Bull walked over to the bed and gave her ass another, albeit more playful, swat. "Roll over, kadan. And get rid of those clothes before I do."
She obliged, although not without giving into the urge to toss her shirt so that it caught on one of his horns. He just pinned her with a Look that promised she'd pay for that, which was exactly what she'd intended.
_These_ sorts of consequences were fun. Nothing rested on the balance in here expect her pleasure, his pleasure, and how many marks would be left on her skin in the achieving of both.
He pulled out a rope and tied her wrists together, then to the headboard. Her ankles he tied to separate bedposts, leaving her spreadeagled. Bull stood back to look at her and shook his head. "Look at you. All that muscle. And those magnificent tits!"
Herah managed to wiggle a bit, making him chuckle.
~~~
She was hurting. It wasn't a time to add too much that, even in a purely physical, certain-to-fade sort of way. Tonight was a night to soothe her worries away by making her unable to hold any thoughts, never mind heavy ones, in that horned head of hers.
"Close your eyes," Iron Bull said softly as he straddled her. He almost hated to ask it of her--her eyes were a startlingly bright green, almost the hue of that damned anchor, and he enjoyed seeing them lose focus.
Later, perhaps.
He kissed her softly, then trailed kisses down her neck to her shoulder. And promptly bit her there, laughing as she arched her back beneath him. He alternated bites with kisses until he'd left a satisfying line of marks across both shoulders.
Biting really did something for her, a fact he found endlessly amusing. It took so little to make her pant and strain against the rope.
Her nipples brushed against his chest and put him in mind of more things to do to her. Bull shifted down on the bed until those glorious tits were in reach of his mouth. His tongue was feather-light on her nipples, teasing them stiff until she arched towards him again.
"Bull," she said in a low, breathless tone. "If my hands were free right now..."
"Why do you think I tied you up?" If her hands were free, she'd grab his horns and bring an end to the teasing, as she had more than once before. "The point, kadan, is that you're at my mercy."
"You have no mercy."
"Not here, not with you, no." He glanced up to see that she'd opened her eyes, so he growled and swatted at her thigh. "Eyes closed, Herah. Just for that..." He pulled away from her breasts and let her whine and writhe a moment. Instead he shifted his attention to her horns, gently massaging their bases. It was pleasurable, but not the sort of enjoyment she was seeking.
"Bull."
"Yes, kadan?"
"Are you going to fuck me sometime today?"
"Not if you're going to give me that sort of sass," but it was a lie and they both knew it. Anything more than momentary denial was something he was terrible at, where she was concerned. "I should really think about gagging you one of these days."
Back to the nipples, only this time he sucked them into his mouth and gave them the firm attention with his tongue she was looking for. Bull gave her only the taste of teeth here, mindful of his earlier decision. When she whined with need he changed his tactics, gripping both plump nipples between his fingers and tugging them.
"Kadan, please."
Ah, there it was. He'd been waiting for her to slip out of using his name. "Please...what?"
"Please fuck me."
"No." |
c2db673a286047db9820a8e1e3debc35 | ['4bdb922acafc419cabb53da948acc780'] | Those Hours in the Night (Just Before Light)
**Author's Note:**
> Title from MS MR's _BTSK_. LINK and LINK are kinda at fault for giving me this idea. It was supposed to be all nice and happy but I guess I just can't do happy, can I?
For a moment, with him overwhelming her senses, she’s certain if he just asked, she’d run away with him. Mission, plans, everything be damned.
But he doesn’t speak. Instead, his lips ghost up her neck, and she lets herself melt against him. He takes his time with careful, torturous touches as if he’s trying to burn her to his memory. As if he’s the one, who’ll be giving up his life for good in a few weeks.
He wouldn’t say anything, wouldn’t even talk about it, but she feels it in his kisses, in the way he looks at her. He’s already mourning her.
It’s only fair, part of her thinks. She’s as good as dead once they go through with it. A decent person would have let him go. She tried to be decent once when she gave the ring back. It didn’t get her far.
She can only take his mournful worship so long before flipping their bodies over, and crawling on top of him.
His laugh vibrates against the skin of her shoulder, and corners of her lips turn up instinctively. These days coaxing a smile out of him almost feels like another mission of hers.
“Someone’s eager, huh?” He’s slightly breathless. Just enough for her to pretend that gravity of what’s to come, _ what she’s about to do _ is gone from his voice.
“I could beat the shit out of you for teasing me like that,” she teases in between the kisses on his neck.
“I know.” Just like that lightness is gone from his features.
She looks up, cradling his face in her palms, and holds his gaze for a few beats.
“I’ll remember you,” she swears, voice steady, certain. “I’ll come back to you.”
Still, he kisses her like it’s farewell. | c1fef01741c44e8cb95f6d245d4f6f2c | ['4bdb922acafc419cabb53da948acc780'] | He held her close, fingers digging in the flesh of her hip. Her hands tangled in his hair, the scent of ocean, salt, rum, **him** overwhelming her. Had he asked her in that instant to leave it behind and run away, she might have answered: "Y _es_." She could see it all behind her eyelids: a fearless captain at the helm of his ship, sailing into the eye of the storm, and a woman by his side, just as brave, golden hair blowing in the wind. **Together**.
But he did not speak, however, just pressed her back against the stone wall because they both knew better. Maybe, in another life, it might have been him who held her hand in front of the adoring crowd, maybe it might - **should** \- have been him she promised her life in marriage. Maybe… But there was no other life, just here and now, and he was a pirate and she was an heir and their duties hung over their heads like a sword of Damocles.
Her knees buckled, a silent scream building within her. Her nails dug into his skin, leaving marks on him just as he marked her. They were not careful and she thought that everyone would know once they see her tainted form in that pure white dress in the morning. But for the last time, the night was theirs, so she let herself drown as he trembled inside her.
He watched her every movement as she fumbled with her skirts, trying to settle her shaKing hands. His eyes never left her as she pretended to be calm, collected and regal. He drank in the sight of her as her breath caught in her throat as he slid a ring of his finger and pressed it into her palm. Another promise that could not be kept.
"Leave." she could not meet his eyes as she pushed him through the door, the weight of the ring heavy in her palm.
"As you wish." he said, though what he really meant was: _I love you. I need you. Sail away with me._
* * *
With the weight of her crown heavy on her head and his ring on a chain under her garments burning her chest, she heard an echo of her own words in the chapel: "I do."
_"_ You may now kiss the bride. _"_ the minister's voice rang out among the cheers.
The stranger's lips brushed against hers before he turned to the crowd and raised their joined hands in the air. As if she was just a prize for his conquests.
* * *
Soon, a child was born. A boy with his mother's eyes and raven hair unlike the King. The Queen carried him at her breast and hid him from the prying eyes, for though the King claimed to love him as a son, his wrath was brewing under the surface.
The boy grew, with an infectious laugh and a quick wit, he was always the pirate and never the knight in the children's games. It was because of stories his mother told in hushed tones as she rocked him to sleep. Stories of brave pirates and great adventures. Stories that made the King frown and the Queen gaze thoughtfully at the ocean. Stories that were meant to be their little secret but somehow everyone had heard them anyway.
He did not know why his mother asked to keep the stories secret. Or why the servants stopped in their tracks whenever he walked by. Or why the farm boys liked to call him a **bastard** so much. He asked the Queen what that meant once but she just hugged him close and mumbled: _"_ I'm so sorry, my brave boy."
It was when he reached his fifteenth name day that he realised that it was a his mother's eyes and a stranger's face that looked at him from the mirror, not the King's. From that day on, he swore never to call the King ' **Father'** again.
It was also when he started pay attention to the fights behind the doors of the royal chambers, to the King's rage and his mother's soothing words.
"One day," he swore to his mother that night, "I'll be the captain of the greatest ship there is and I'll sail you away from here, straight to the end of the world so the King can never find us."
_"_ One day _._ " she agreed, her mind drifting back to another boy with raven hair and stormy eyes who promised to steal her away.
For sometimes promises were kept, it just took a long while to honour them.
* * *
They said it was just like a crone once told by the crib of a newborn princess.
A ship with sails dark as night laid anchor in the harbour and pirates swarmed to shore, pillaging everywhere they stepped, setting land to ash. A fearsome captain led the plunder. A man with stormy eyes, raven hair and a hook in place of his hand. A man who had come from faraway lands for the Queen's heart.
They said the Queen did not fear him when he barged into her chambers. She welcomed him as an old friend, a **lover** , for he came to fulfil the promise - to sail her and the boy to the timeless land at the end of the world and repay for all the time that they had once lost.
They argued, though, that it was not the Queen's heart he desired. It was his own as she was merely where he kept it.
For if you come to take what is already yours, is it really a theft? |
0ec7ac8d7f70458fb6d0c8613962b909 | ['4be223e597a54100bd0cbd96d443fd48'] | _Damn old man! I could have figured it out myself! And what’s more important than briefing me anyway? He’s always at those stupid meetings and is barely home…wait why do I even care? I don’t care! Now…What did he say again? Uh…._
Peter stretched his arms back while taking in the view of the city from his position on the top of a building with a fairly decent height. He suddenly remembers that his father mentioned something about an AI and voice recognition system and decides to give it a try.
“Uh...hello?”
The screen lights up and a female AI voice responds. “Hello, Peter. Congratulations on completing the Training Wheels Program. The full version of Spiderman.002 is equip with many new features that was previously inaccessible in ‘safe mode’. Would you like a tutorial?”
“Just show me the cool stuff!”
“Entering Instant Kill Mode.”
“K-kill mode?! No no no no!”
“Figure approaching rapidly.”, the AI warns and Peter has little time to react. He spins around a little too fast and loses his balance; tipping backward on the uneven edge of the roof. He suddenly feels a strong arm catch around his waist; too busy panicking to notice the man before him. He can tell the man is smiling even though he’s also wearing a mask. A familiar mask; red and black.
“Hiya Spidey!”, he chimes, then holds up a greasy looking brown paper bag, smelling of Mexican food. “Chimichanga?” the man asks with a shake of the bag. Peter doesn’t move a muscle and just stares.
_This guy again…_
5. Friday
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Steve goes to Tony's job to talk.
Tony exits the board meeting room after going over the weekly goals of the Stark International expansion plan. He lets out a sigh of relief since everything seems to be right on schedule. He walks through the door of his office that only opens for those select few that have an authorized fingerprint in his personal database. As he enters he’s not surprised to see his husband, leaning on his desk with his arms folded.
“You only come to my office when you want something so, what is it?”, Tony plainly asks, not really in the mood to argue but knows he’s definitely here for a reason. He waits for a response but gathers that he’ll probably have to try a different approach, which prompts him to move closer to the man in question, coming face to face with the blonde. He’s been married long enough to know that when Steve is upset and so he’ll have to coax him into telling him what’s wrong. With a hand somewhat calloused he reaches out and strokes Steve’s cheek, cupping his face tenderly.
“What’s the matter? Talk to me.” Tony continues carefully, regretting his earlier tone. Steve turns away from the hand only to be guided back; forcing eye contact.
“I…” Steve starts with hesitance, “I feel responsible for what happened to Peter. I was careless and.. distracted.”
“I know you take pride in being the hero Cap, but this isn’t your fault. If anything it’s my fault for not checking to make sure his medicine was still working properly.”
“No Tony, it’s not-… the signs were there. He asked me if I thought he smelled funny and said other people said he does and I don’t know what I was thinking but, I …I didn’t think anything of it and there’s no excuse and I’m just the worst possible parent because I didn’t notice something that I should have and- “
Tony holds up a hand for him to pause.
“I’m going to stop you right there. When was your last heat?”
“Tony, I don’t see how that is relevant to- “
“You’re being emotional and I think you might be pregnant.”
“What? No- that has nothing to do with this. I’m telling you that I’ve been too caught up in myself lately; especially since Bucky came back.”
“It’s… not Bucky’s baby is it?”
“I’m not pregnant!”, Steve yells in a hushed manner, “that’s not the point- “
“Oh, I think it is. I hear what you’re saying perfectly clear, Steve. You’re distracted because of that asshole.”
“Jesus Christ. Can you, for once, not have selective hearing?”
“Are you seeing him Steve? Hm?”
“No, I’m not. I’m not ‘seeing’ him. He’s just back in my life temporarily, as a friend. You know how he is, he comes and goes as he pleases.”
“As he pleases, huh? Yeah, that the problem. Do you not remember what happened a few years ago?”
The blonde uncrosses his arms and sighs, rolling his eyes, “Not like I could ever forget. You got Peter involved and used him against me.”
“Look, I’m not the only one playing dirty here. How many times do I have to remind you that you’re MY omega? You can’t have emotional affairs when your bonded to ME.”
“I took Bucky’s side because it was the right thing to do, not because I was having an affair! I never cheated on you. You’re just a possessive bastard.” He smirks a bit, “Tell me, what is it about Bucky that makes you feel so inferior?”
Maintaining his composure, Tony runs his fingers briskly through his hair while walking around the desk to his chair and taking a seat. “Looks like I’ve been spending too much time at work and not enough time disciplining you.”
Steve raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth to speak, only to be silenced by a cold glare from his husband. He stands there in silence, challenging his gaze until he’s forced to look away, something in him urging him to submit. He notices Tony’s signature smug expression when he decides to look back at him. The alpha turns on the computer, intending to look over some important emails and only spares one more glance toward Steve.
“Take off your clothes and put your hands on the desk.” | 9f87c131301b44cf9357cd10fcb5f55a | ['4be223e597a54100bd0cbd96d443fd48'] | Bruce glances back and forth between Peter, who is lying on the examination table and his frantic parents; pacing outside his lab’s tempered glass windows. He glides across the room in the rolling chair; having retrieved the tools he needs from one of the other stations. He gently removes the gauze from the boy’s nose and applies a homemade paste; a recent one he’s created by extracting samples from himself; studying the healing factor within his own tissue and experimenting with it. The paste is only a prototype and serves as a bonding agent more than anything. Which means there will still be a bruise for a while but it’s better than stitches. Bruce covers the wound this a fresh bandage and leans back in his chair.
“So…just to be clear; you don’t want to take legal action against whoever did this to you.”; Bruce states although Peter knows by his tone and facial expression it is definitely a question. Peter sits up, swinging his legs off the table.
“Yeah.”, he breathes out.
“You know, that even though you decided to bathe after the attack; I can still find tissue samples since you said you bit him and maybe even semen samples; from your stool that is.”, Bruce explained. Peter quirked an eyebrow and the man just shrugged. “I’m not your average forensic analyst. I can find whatever you need me to find.”
The boy smiles a bit, forcefully and truly thankful that the man would go through such lengths for him. “No, its fine Uncle Bruce, really; it is…and let’s keep the details between us. Err, pinky swear on it.”
“We’re seriously pinky swearing?”
“Yeah”
“I don’t like this…but if it’s what you want then…”, the man holds up his pinky which Peter hooks with his, sealing their promise of secrecy.
“I really appreciate this Uncle Bruce, I really do.”
“You were drugged peter. High off drugs and intoxicated with alcohol and large amounts of it too. It’s quite serious and it’ll be in your system for a few days. Don’t hesitate to contact me if you have high feelings of anxiety, depression, thoughts of suicide, high blood pressure, experience a seizure; anything out of the ordinary; I need to know about it.”
Peter nods, “Yeah, yeah; I will.”, he laughs dryly, “Seriously though, I don’t think being forced to suck a dick will make me want to die.”
“You’re deflecting…”, Bruce sighs and pats the boy on the knee. “…and that’s normal too. I want you to be careful and please notify me. You’re even showing signs of an impending heat which…isn’t ideal for your mental state right now. You’ll be highly unstable.”
Peter blinks, mouth parting slightly in disbelief. “Heat? Isn’t it supposed to be delayed? I get the shots every month and take my suppressants every freakin’ day!”
“Now you see why I’m so concerned.”
“Oh my God.” Peter hides his face in his hands; trying his best not to get upset.
“And your heat WAS delayed.”, Bruce adds, “But…it’s been unnaturally suspended for years now and- “
“Wait wait wait!”, Peter interrupts, “How long until…”
The scientist swivels over to his lab reports; scanning for the boy’s blood test results. “It’s hard to tell, could be any day now.”
Tony bursts into the room, muttering a string of curses. He’s animated and making a strangling motion with his hands “You tell me who that little fucker is and I’ll wring his chicken neck!” Steve follows after him worry shown clear on his face. Tony lets out an enraged growl which makes all of them jump; even Bruce who’s a beta and is normally unaffected by these types of feral reactions. Bruce jumps up from his seat, “Hey hey! Don’t scare the poor kid. We’ve already talked, his vitals are fine and he’s agreed to participate in checkups and treatment I have in place.” Steve smiles thankfully at the scientist but doesn’t say anything as he softly smooths the top of his son’s head; fixing a mild case of bedhead. Peter grumbles and takes a small hop down from the table.
“I know you guys are worried but, really, I’m fine.”, Peter assures with an air of confidence that fools no one but himself. He offers a small smile to his father but not saying anything to him; still annoyed at him for what he said the other day. He stretches his arms dramatically, reaching high above his head and twisting his body side to side. “So…are we gonna stand here all day or are we gonna do some superhero stuff? Field training remember?” Bruce nods curtly and drags his chair to a different part of the room to continue working on one of his many research projects. Peter pumps a fist.
“Let’s suit up!”
\---
Tony continues his thorough explanation via the holographic interface that is built into Peter’s suit. “- and that concludes the functions of the major upgrades that were made; hey boy spider, pay attention”, Tony snaps. The teen looks back at the screen, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. His father continues; taking off his shades to get the effect of making direct eye contact through the screen. “I’m taking the time out of my day, the time out of a very important meeting to educate you, a toddler, on the functions of a suit you’re in but don’t know anything about.” He snaps his fingers at the camera, “Hey! I saw that. Your attitude? Fix it.”
“Okay.” The boy huffs.
“What was that?”
“Yes sir.” He mumbles.
Satisfied, Tony smiles with his usual smugness and slides his designer shades back on. “Okay, give em’ hell and be home by 10.” With that the call ends and Peter lets out a huge sigh; richly irritated. |
0237ab80da4f46179ba6e1211240666f | ['4c002a3cdbec4c42bb159a11490c832b'] |
1. A Not-So-Innocent Question
**Author's Note:**
> Hiiii guys, it's exam time so what do I do? Post a new story of-course! Hope you guys like this one!
Yuuri couldn't help but stare. He tried, but failed to pry his eyes away from the kissing couple.
At first, all they did were intertwine their fingers together, then they leaned in closer to each other, so close in fact, that they shared breath. This changed when the male- with a glint of mischief in his emerald eyes, suddenly grabbed his partner's head, tilting it sideways, and whatever was left of their conversation faded into history.
Yuuri didn't know what to do, for whenever he tried to glance elsewhere, his gaze still somehow managed to wander back. The scene was so passionate, so intimate, so primal that he found his heart yearning for such contact as well. If only he had someone to share it with. He tried again to remove his prying eyes and place them elsewhere, only because it felt wrong to stare at such a scene. It felt like it was an intrusion of privacy, even if they were in a public setting.
"Heika?"
Yuuri suddenly became very aware of where he was, and who he was with. Knowing that the soldier had caught the king ogling the couple, his face flushed crimson, and soon he was grasping for an explanation.
Thankfully, the soldier understood that Yuuri wasn't trying to purposely be rude, or he just simply didn't care, and nodded his head, indicating that the teenager needn't explain himself.
"Must be a new couple"
Yuuri's brows quizzically turned upwards in a silent question.
"There's a nervous excitement between them. Normally, you only see that with new pairs, as those who've been together for a while, have grown comfortable with their partner's presence and also their relationship."
And yet again, Yuuri was forced to remember how knowledgeable Conrad indeed was in this subject. In fact, it was practically his area of expertise. He clenched and unclenched his fingers. The realization only made himself feel all the more inadequate, and he unconsciously dropped his head. Forgetting how sharp Conrad was in noticing body movements, especially with the king.
"Would you like me to teach you?"
Yuuri lifted his head, confused.
"Huh? Teach me what?"
The soldier took a step closer, but only a step. He tilted his head slightly sideways, and the sun kissed his chocolate hair. Those caramel eyes focused on the king's own, his face serious but otherwise unreadable.
"How to kiss"
2. Oh La La
A deafening silence stretched between them, as the words slowly clicked into place. Red smeared onto his face, tinting his cheeks. The silence continued, becoming more and more unbearable as each passing second ticked by.
All Yuuri could do was stare wide-eyed at the handsome soldier, and think about the implication of those words. His heart thumped a bit too loud and fast for the king to trick himself again, into believing that he only viewed his knight as a friend and protector.
He took a gulp, and mustered all of their courage to say the word that could potentially alter their relationship.
"Y-"
And Conrad started to chuckle, however he stopped suddenly, a bit too suddenly, when he heard Yuuri's first letter of reply, to suggest that Conrad was merely teasing the young king, and that the soldier had no such intentions.
"Sorry Heika, could you repeat that?"
Those caramel eyes that held tints of silver in them peered at the king. They were so warm, so inviting. Yuuri could never break the gaze when those eyes looked at him like that, when Conrad looked at him like that. It was like he was paralyzed, helplessly unable to get away.
"Yes, I-I'd like that," mumbled Yuuri, his face reddening, once again.
Conrad was fast, so very fast, that Yuuri couldn't even comprehend what was happening. The knight grabbed Yuuri's hand, pulling him close. He tilted the king's head slightly and slowly leaned in, but they didn't kiss. The soldier stopped right before the contact, as if suddenly realizing what he was doing. The moment felt as if it was suspended in time, and Conrad's lips so close. Close enough to feel the warmth, close enough that if Yuuri moved just a bit, they'd touch. And Yuuri did, because he couldn't rationalize with himself anymore; he couldn't ignore his feelings anymore.
And then the lines had inevitably blurred, the string that had once held so much tension had finally snapped. Oh how it felt, the freedom, the urge and desire that had threatened to swallow him whole had been released, as Conrad pressed his lips on Yuuri's, and the young king softly moaned at the feeling of Conrad. Unfortunately, Conrad withdraw himself from the position, and the kiss ended as fast as it came, only leaving behind an endless yearning for more, and the passion of that ghost of a kiss. Yuuri whimpered a bit, still wanting so much more, and he had an indignant pout on his face as his brows scrunched together, demanding a reason for the interruption of their "session".
The soldier softly smiled, with an expression that looked a little like regret.
"I'm sorry Yuuri, but this is a public setting after all."
The king's eyes widened, how could he have forgotten? He looked around him, noticing the stares of many, and wished that the Earth could open up at this moment and just swallow him whole, so he didn't have to deal with this embarrassment.
"Don't worry Yuuri, we'll do something even better when we get back home, so just be patient for now, alright?", Conrad asked with a twinkle in his eye, that promised more fun will be had. It hadn't seemed possible that Yuuri could've gone a shade redder, but alas, the world is full of surprises. The king was stumped for words, not knowing what to say to his knight, or even what he's gotten himself into for that matter, but he sure hoped that it would be a hell of a ride. | 54a51cf86bd44df197c3b56925af46d7 | ['4c002a3cdbec4c42bb159a11490c832b'] | Mirror of Erised
**Author's Note:**
> Hi!!! It's my first post for this site! Though I've definitely posted on fanfiction.net, but I feel like it's too cumbersome of a platform to use. This fic is an oldie, but I really love it, and I'll be posting more Conyuu stuff on here as well. I hope you guys like it!
"Heika, what are you doing down there?" asked the curious soldier, who had seen Yuuri open the door and wander down the staircase.
"Oh Conrad! I was just looking through these things… There must be some pretty cool stuff in the basement right?" replied an ecstatic young maou as he rummaged through old gifts, unaware that some held magical abilities. "And, it's Yuuri to you!"
The knight gently chuckled, and went into the basement himself, closing the door behind him. "Anything particularly interesting that you've found?" Conrad asked, just to keep the conversation going.
"Oh yea! There's this cool mirror that shows all of us together! Here-" exclaimed Yuuri as he tugged on Conrad's sleeves, beckoning him to follow.
The young king was oblivious to the actual purpose and origin of the mirror, and was confused as to why there'd be such an image of them in a place they've clearly never been before. The soldier though, instantly recognized the ancient mirror for what it was, and stopped dead in his tracks. Not wanting to see what was being projected. The double black sensed Conrad's hesitation, and stopped next to him, wondering what was wrong.
"Conrad… is everything alright?"
"Hei-Yuuri.. do you know what this mirror is?" asked a stunned knight.
"N-no, do you know what it is?" replied an apprehensive Yuuri, a bit afraid of what the answer would be due to Conrad's reaction of the mirror.
"Yes," the soldier paused, hesitating, unsure if he should tell the king the truth, only because he knew what question would come after.
"Really? Tell me Conrad"
The knight looked at the young maou, seeing light glimmering in his obsidian eyes, a spark of curiosity hidden behind those dark abysses. Such innocence in this king. Finally, with a sigh, the soldier relented after a few persistent tugs on the sleeve by a certain teenager.
"It's called the mirror of erised. It shows whoever's looking at it their heart's darkest desires. It's also said that the happiest man would look upon this mirror, and see himself exactly as he is."
"Hmm… I see, then Conrad what do you see?"
The soldier was expecting the innocently thrown question, but he still had a hard time giving the answer. Conrad suddenly found the brown, decaying cardboard box right next to the mirror very interesting, and kept a mental note to clean out the basement another time.
Noticing Conrad's lack of response, Yuuri realized that his question might have intruded on Conrad's own privacy "I-I didn't mean it like that! I mean, it's alright if you don't want to tell me since it might be very personal and I'm perfectly alright if you don't I mean everyone has their own secrets right like once I accident-"
" I see Heika and I playing baseball together"
The soldiers sentence cut the king off from his continued ramblings, and Yuuri's eyes slowly widened as he heard the soldier's statement. His smile couldn't have possibility grown any bigger. "Oh, phew, I'm glad it wasn't something very personal. Well, I'm flattered Conrad! I'd also love nothing more than to play catch with you. In fact, why not right now? Before the sun goes down."
"I'd love to"
"Also, its Yuuri to you, Conrad," teased a content double black.
The pair walked back upstairs, towards civilization, and away from the dusty old room, where Conrad sowed his first ever and only seed of lie to Yuuri.
The knight tried desperately to forget what he saw in the mirror, but his attempts soon proved to be futile, and the images replayed endlessly in his mind. It was terribly distracting, and it had gotten to the point where he had to dismiss himself and retire to bed earlier than usual.
That night, the soldier fell asleep to the images on the mirror. He fell asleep to himself tenderly kissing the young maou on the lips, and to Yuuri gently whispering words of sweet nothings to the soldier. It was heavenly bliss for the few short hours, only to have his heart ache all the more once the soldier awoke to the crimson light of first dawn and to the fading sound of those precious words.
"I love you Conrad Weller" |
afd0d7edd4bf439da2f0ab9b5ebb589a | ['4c2e350da16d4400997d3df590e0d094'] | "He went to bed," Ray says. "I don't blame him, actually. It was a long day." He puts his mug down, looks at it, and then stands up and says, "You know what, I'm going to turn in now, too."
Mikey gets to his feet, then. "I'll go up with you," he says to Ray. "I really need to put on some dry clothes."
Ray nods at him, and they head out together.
"This house is really something, huh," Gerard says, once it's just him and Frank sitting across the table from each other.
"Do you think this place is haunted?" Frank asks. He's staring at some point over Gerard's shoulder, probably deliberately avoiding meeting his eyes. "Be honest."
"I don't know," Gerard says. "I guess not."
Frank's face falls.
"I don't– I don't _not_ think it's haunted, either," Gerard adds hurriedly. "I mean, there's this weird vibe here, right? We all feel it, so it's got to be _something_ , you know?"
"It's definitely something," Frank agrees fervently.
"I know Mikey thinks it's haunted," Gerard says. "Maybe that's why he's been so weird since we got here."
"You think he's been weird?" Frank's concern is evident, right next to his confusion.
"You don't think so?" Gerard frowns at Frank. "He's been kind of distant."
"He seemed okay just now," Frank says.
Gerard can't argue with that, and he makes a non-committal noise of agreement.
"Maybe he's homesick?" Frank offers.
"That's what I figured," Gerard says.
"I mean, he hasn't been engaged to Alicia for very long, right? It's hard to have to leave so soon." Frank's voice gets soft, and Gerard knows he's got to be thinking about Jamia, waiting for him back in Jersey.
"Yeah. I don't know. I mean, that must be it. It's hard to see him like that, you know?"
Frank smiles at Gerard, then reaches across the table to cover Gerard's hand with his and squeeze it tightly. "He'll be okay," Frank says.
"I hope so."
"He will," Frank insists, and Gerard wants nothing more than to believe him.
They sit in silence after that, but it's comfortable. Gerard finishes his coffee and debates getting another cup, but quickly decides against it in favour of actually being able to fall asleep at some point that night.
"Hey, so," Frank starts into the quiet, and Gerard looks up at him. "This is really dumb, but can you walk me to my room?"
"Sure," Gerard says, and gets up and offers Frank his arm like an old-fashioned gentleman. Frank laughs, which was the whole point of the gesture.
The trip up to Frank's room is mostly quiet—the overwhelming stillness of the house around them seems to demand it somehow—and when they get to Frank's door, Frank leans in to confide, "I'm not scared, okay, but it's still fucking creepy to be alone in this place after midnight, you know?"
Gerard wraps his arms around Frank in a goodnight hug and murmurs, "I know," into the top of his head.
"Thanks," Frank says against Gerard's shoulder.
"It's nothing," Gerard says.
"Be careful on your way," Frank says seriously, pulling back from the hug to look Gerard in the eye.
"I will," Gerard assures him.
So of course Gerard gets turned around on his way back to his room. He wouldn't say that he's _lost_ , necessarily, but he clearly missed a turn somewhere because he wasn't paying enough attention.
The hallway gets darker and darker as he goes until it's almost completely wrapped up in shadows. The things hanging on the walls are just dark outlines as he moves by; some look like they must be framed paintings, perhaps portraits of long-dead Hollywood players, while others look like old-fashioned ornamental sculptures, nailed to the wall to ride out the tastes of changing residents.
Gerard stops to admire a really ornate gilt frame of a mirror. The glass itself is dusty so he blows on it to clear it, and then he spends the next minute coughing as the dust flies back into his nose and mouth. The glass is cleaner for it, though, and he gives it an extra swipe with the cuff of his hoodie.
He can see himself reflected in it now: the rise of one cheekbone, the peak of his nose, the line of his brow, all picked out in the contrast of light and shadow. It's almost poetic, he thinks as he tilts his head sideways to watch the way the change in angle affects the play of shadows across his skin, changing the face he sees in the mirror.
There's a flicker, then, not in the lights around him but in his reflection. His hair suddenly looks much shorter, cropped close above the ears and a only a little longer than that in front, and his reflection's cheeks are flushed even though it's far too cold in the hallway for his face to be so hot. He looks younger in his reflection, almost like a teenager.
And his eyes...
He hesitates to even call them _his_ ; they're bloodshot around the edges and his pupils are dull and flat in a way that has nothing to do with the lack of light in the hallway, and it makes something dark and sick start to swim around in his guts.
Gerard winces, stepping back from the mirror as though he's trying to dodge the wild swing of a fist. He takes a deep breath, trying to slow the too-fast beating of his heart, and then shakes his head as if it'll help him shake off what he just saw.
When he looks back a heartbeat later, his reflection is exactly as it should be.
Gerard stares at the glass for a long moment before turning away, moving briskly down the hall back in the direction he came from to put as much space between himself and the mirror as possible. | b95d160d59534d6695736bfc7c73a5b7 | ['4c2e350da16d4400997d3df590e0d094'] | And then Frank throws his arms around Gerard and hugs, gasping, "We did it, we did it, we did it," into his chest. He clings tight as he collapses into Gerard, unable to hold himself up any longer. Gerard takes a step back as he catches Frank's weight but he doesn't let go. He holds on for all he's worth, trying to be mindful of Frank's injuries and not accidentally touching anything that would hurt him.
He looks up and sees that Bob has an unnaturally huge grin on his face and Ray just looks dazed, staring down the hill at the lights and blinking like he can't believe what he's seeing.
A car honks at them as it rounds the corner and catches them in its headlights, and they're all jolted out of their dazes to scramble out of its way. They watch it go and then turn to face each other, and a heartbeat later they're all hugging, all four of them a tangle of bodies and arms and hair and warm breath. Gerard sniffs, trying to hold back the tears of relief that are threatening to break free, and Ray squeezes his shoulder and smiles at him, his own eyes wet at the corners.
"I already feel like I just dreamed everything," Bob says as he pulls back a little to stare at the Paramour's roof, which rises ominously over the fence and trees ringing the property in.
Ray nods. "But we didn't. It happened."
"And I'll have the sick scars to prove it," Frank says, sounding a little too gleeful about it for Gerard's liking.
"We should call Mikey back," Gerard says. "Fuck, did someone bring their cell?" He pats himself down but he knows he doesn't have his with him.
"I've got mine," Ray says as he digs it out of his pocket. He thumbs through his contacts and hits send, then pushes another button. The sound of the phone ringing crackles out of the tiny speaker of Ray's cell.
"Hello?" Mikey picks up after a ring and a half. "Guys? Please tell me you're out."
"We're out," Ray tells him, and there's no mistaking Mikey's sigh of relief as it comes through the phone.
"Thank fuck!" He's all choked up like he's been crying, but the relief in his voice is clear. "I called an ambulance for Frank, it should be there any minute."
"Good," Ray says, and Frank sags in relief.
"Hey, Mikey? How did you get out, anyway?" Gerard asks him suddenly. He was so caught up in the immediacy of their problems and their total inability to leave the house that it hadn't occurred to him at all until this very moment to wonder how Mikey had managed to leave.
"Well, I hadn't been in the house as long as you guys were," Mikey says. "And I had Daisy helping me."
"Isn't she dead?" Ray asks, confused.
"What, her ghost let you out?" Frank sounds skeptical.
"More or less," Mikey says. He sounds like he doesn't expect them to believe it, and Gerard wishes they could go back in time to a point where they'd all just laugh instead of taking him seriously without a second thought.
"I feel like I'm missing something obvious," Ray sighs. "What the fuck is wrong the house?"
"I've been trying to figure that out," Mikey says. "I don't know the whole story, but I've got a pretty good idea."
"You're going to tell us, right?" Frank asks.
The line goes quiet except for the noise of some papers getting shuffled around on Mikey's end.
"So as best I can figure out," Mikey finally says, "there's something wrong with the house itself, it's not really a haunting thing."
They all turn as one to look at the house. Gerard bites back a gasp as one of the lit-up windows suddenly goes dark.
"What is it?" Frank asks when he realizes that Mikey didn't finish the thought.
"Dunno," Mikey says. Gerard can practically hear the shrug. "The couple who had this house built, I think the guy was crazy and that might have something to do with it." There's something in Mikey's voice when he says _crazy_ , but it's there and gone so fast Gerard can't pin it down.
"Oh, great," Bob mutters under his breath.
"There were a lot of rumours that he killed his wife, and guess what, they're true." Mikey sounds kind of disgusted.
"What?" Bob spits. "That's terrible."
"He apparently..." Mikey stops, clears his throat. "He beat her to death and then covered it up by putting her in her car and sending it over a cliff." His voice gets more and more faint as he goes on, and the last few words are barely choked out. "She's buried in the backyard, and her ghost is trapped in the house. Where she died."
"I thought you said it wasn't a haunted house?" Frank says. Gerard glances over at where Frank is leaning against Bob, and it looks like he's starting to get some of his colour back—not a lot, but some. Gerard can't help but think that it's because they're free of the house.
"She was never the problem," Mikey sighs.
"Was the guy's name Antonio?" Ray asks, and there's something in his voice that makes Gerard turn to look at him. Ray looks pale and sort of stricken, and he's picking at the cuff of his hoodie nervously.
"Yeah," Mikey affirms nervously. "Why?"
Ray's hand curls into a white-knuckled fist. "That's what I heard," he says. "It's got to be. Oh my god."
"What happened?" Mikey asks.
"When I was stuck in the room, before you guys got there, they were– the ghosts were talking, and the woman called the man Antonio."
"Wait, what?" Mikey asks urgently. |
a91d59443adb4f46966bedd7c6f01b42 | ['4c4b7741e7f14effb575f3a3a97a6446'] | He takes out the paper talking about the surveillance system. “They want to take away my freedom!” Rip. More papercuts.
He takes out the paper talking about what volunteers should do during emergencies, “This is fake concern! Tricking volunteers into thinking they’re helping us!” Rip. More papercuts.
He takes out the papers talking about the teen division and its rehabilitation program. “They don’t give a shit about me! Acting all high and mighty! Like they’re trying to help!” Rip. More papercuts.
He takes out the document talking about the point system and patient privileges. “They’re controlling me like I’m an animal! They want to punish and torture me into submission!” Rip. More papercuts.
He takes out the papers with his profile and school schedule. “They don’t know shit about me! Treating me like a stupid lunatic who needs to be fixed!” Rip. More papercuts.
He takes out the papers discussing healthy and unhealthy mental behavior. “I’m healthy! I’m perfect!” Rip. More papercuts.
He takes out the paper on suicide. “They don’t want me to die because they want me to suffer!” Rip. More papercuts. _He thinks the government doesn’t want him to die?_
He takes out the various papers on therapies, treatments, and medications. “They want to make me sicker and worse! They want to control me!” Rip. More papercuts.
He takes out an article on anxiety. “I’m calm!” Rip. More papercuts. He takes out an article on depression. “I’m happy!” Kiibo can’t remember what he says after this because, at this point, the robot leaves the bed and goes to the room’s bathroom for items to treat the pale boy’s cuts. Ouma is sobbing at this point and doesn’t notice the robot is searching the bathroom. He continues to take out more papers on various mental disorders and screams out a comment at each one and rips them each apart. Blood pours out of the many cuts, and blood and tears soak the papers.
By the time Kiibo comes back, Ouma is done going through the papers and is crying and gasping for breath. The robot recoils at the scene. The boy in the oversized sweatshirt is too busy weeping to care about the robot staring at him. He takes his bleeding hands and buries his face in them, rubbing blood all over his facial features. Kiibo almost cries with him but, instead, carefully walks over to him and gently grabs both his wrists. Ouma gives him an alarmed expression, with a face painted with his own blood. The ends of his sleeves are also stained with blood, but Kiibo is more concerned with the boy’s hands and mental health.
Ouma doesn’t seem to pay much attention to Kiibo as the robot leads him to the bathroom. The dark haired boy lets out tiny sobs when the robot washes his hands with liquid soap and a washcloth, applies antibiotic cream, and wraps bandages around each hand. The dark haired boy stares at their feet the whole time. Due to how silent and permissive he is, he seems almost lifeless. It’s like Ouma isn’t even there.
“Ouma-kun, look at your hands,” the robot instructs him softly, with his own metal hands carefully holding the bandaged ones.
“No, I don’t want to,” Ouma whimpers weakly.
“Please, all you have to do is look. You’re brave and mentally strong enough to do it.”
“Fine!” the dark haired boy looks at the bandaged hands in Kiibo’s, and his breathing hitches. More tears fall down his face, and Kiibo starts thinking he may have been putting the boy through unnecessary pain this whole time, but he continues to do what he thinks is right.
“Look at the stitched cut on your ankle. It’ll be okay.” Ouma looks down at his ankle, and the robot can’t see the boy’s face. He hopes the boy remembers picking apart his own injury. Kiibo then softly instructs him, “Look at your handsome face in the mirror.”
Without pause this time, Ouma looks at the mirror and lets in a sharp breath. His hands clench at the edge of the sink’s countertop, and he cries at his appearance. The pale boy’s face has dark red blood wiped all over his face. At this point, the blood is so dry that it’s caking on his face. The blood on his cheeks is partially cleaned away by the tears that have been falling over his face. His eyes are puffy, and his nose is clearly runny. Through the mirror, Kiibo peers more at his bloodied face and sees some things about Ouma’s face that he never noticed before. His pale skin makes him look very sickly, almost like he’s approaching death, and the dark circles below his eyes make him look like he hasn’t been getting sleep.
Kiibo knows he’s been going too far with Ouma, but he can’t help it. _Kaede-san, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to volunteer me to watch this boy if I’m just going to keep hurting him, but…._ The robot then assertively tells him, “You’re not okay.”
Ouma gives him a horrified expression through the mirror and then falls to his knees to continue crying. The robot sits down to the boy’s level and gathers the boy in his arms. Kiibo is surprised when the crying boy hugs him back rather than pushing him away. He whimpers in Kiibo’s shoulders, “I’m not crazy. I’m not stupid. I’m not useless. I’m not heartless.”
“You’re right. You’re not. You’re smart. You’re logical. You’re caring. You’re resourceful. You’re strong.” The robot whispers praises in the crying boy’s ears. “But don’t lie to yourself and say you’re fine because you know something is wrong. You may not trust hospital, but you trust me, right?”
“Stupid robot, of course I trust you. You’re so charmed by me that you have my best interest at heart,” Ouma declares with a hiccup. His crying lessens, and he seems content to just snuggle up against the robot. | 838ef9a4ebf743ca8699f96717553eac | ['4c4b7741e7f14effb575f3a3a97a6446'] | _S_ o _much for trying to reveal the truth to him._ Kiibo is terrified at the thought he may have permanently lost the trust Ouma had in him. The robot carefully crawls to the crying boy and whispers, “I care about you. You can trust me. I’ve been trying to protect you, remember? You said I always seemed genuine. I’m your friend. Please believe me. You say you’re good at reading people. Can you look at me and deny I’m being genuine?” The crying boy gazes at him through tear-filled eyes. He doesn’t say anything but continues to cry. Kiibo wonders if he heard the robot at all. The robot reaches a metal hand to grab Ouma’s bleeding hand. _Didn’t I bandage these same fingers earlier? Did he take the bandages off only so he can open the injuries again?_ Ouma flinches but doesn’t pull his injured hand away. The robot takes this as a good sign and asks the boy softly, “Do you trust me?” Ouma nods. “Is dinner over?” Ouma nods. “What do you want to do?” In response, the dark haired boy wraps his arms and legs around the robot and pats the bed. “Eh? Wait….do you want me to carry you to the bed?” Ouma nods. _You’re not a toddler! The bed is right there!_ Ouma is now suddenly acting younger than he usually does. Sometimes the dark haired boy resorts to very childish behavior for reasons the robot doesn’t understand. Because of this and because of Ouma’s immature behavior in general, Kiibo often has difficulty believing he’s a teenager and even questions if Ouma has somehow tricked everyone into thinking he’s a teenager. Supposedly, his dental records and physiology indicates he’s at least around high school age, but, nonetheless, Kiibo questions everything.
The robot reluctantly carries the boy to his bed while asking, “You want to be tucked in?” He feels the boy nod. The robot holds the dark haired boy in one arm, grabs a pillow off the floor, sets it on the bed, pulls off the bed sheets, puts Ouma on the bed, and tucks him in. The only reason the robot tolerates this ridiculous childlike behavior is because Kiibo knows this can be a cruel symptom of some mental disorders. After spending time with Ouma, the robot speculates the boy didn’t properly mature emotionally and psychologically when he was younger. Right now, Kiibo guesses, Ouma probably has retreated to a younger age mentally because he got upset. _Life seems simpler as child I guess._ _This infantile behavior is just his way of coping with the situation. He’s okay._
Ouma curls up under the sheets of the bed and reaches a pale hand to grab Kiibo’s wrist. The robot asks him, “Do you want me to get in bed with you?” Ouma nods. The robots joins him under the covers and the two them lie down, facing each other, noses nearly touching. The dark haired boy’s warm breath on the robot’s face relaxes Kiibo. The robot then asks, “If you’re not going to eat the hospital’s cooked food, will you eat any home cooked food I bring you if it’s vegan?” Ouma nods. _At least we’re making progress when it comes to his diet._ The robot then asks a more serious question. “Does it ever get lonely being in a hospital full of people you can’t trust?”
Ouma aggressively bites his bottom lip, and the robot sees more tears in his eyes this time. The dark haired boy then turns his back to Kiibo. At first, the robot thinks the boy is so upset with the question, so he’s ignoring Kiibo. Looking over the boy’s shoulder, Kiibo sees Ouma grabbing sticky notes and a pencil from the bedside table. Ouma then lies on his back and writes something on one of the sticky notes. _If you have something to say, say it out loud! Stop giving me the silent treatment! I know you can talk! So talk! You like talking!_ With a smirk on his face, Ouma then turns to face Kiibo and smacks the robot’s forehead with the sticky note. He then turns around to put the sticky notes and pencil back. Kiibo peels the sticky note off his forehead and reads it.
**I lied when I said you were being mean to me. The hospital never got you, and I never stopped trusting you. I was never upset. I was just pretending to be upset to prove a point, to get it through your thick skull that this place is evil. You’re often easy for the government to fool. But you still trust me and we’re still friends, right? Also, to answer your question, no, I do not get lonely. I’m never lonely because you’re here and there are people who care about me, like my family and secret organization, who are looking for me.** |
f5200f8f19304f049ebaede54bf16f01 | ['4c4eac2073e44c08940e8d805d909e05'] | After Jonathan extracts himself with an embarrassed laugh and his eyes staring pointedly at the ground, he shoves a Tupperware container at both Selina and Jeremiah. “My mom made you guys lemon squares.”
Jeremiah smiles and thanks him, but Selina gives him a dirty look. “Are you trying to make me fat?”
“If you don’t want it, I’ll take them,” Ecco chirps, making grabby hands for the dish.
Selina clutches the Tupperware tightly to her. “No, these are mine!”
Jonathan smiles and clasps his hands behind his back, his eyes roaming over the team with a happiness Jeremiah shares. He doesn’t have much time to dwell on his mushy, gooey feelings over the reunion because Ecco starts to hand out souvenirs from her trip and looks expectantly at them, waiting for them to open the presents.
He unwraps his to find a black necklace with a shell pendant. “Thank you, it’s lovely.” Selina got a similar necklace and he can see Jonathan wearing a bracelet of the same style. It’s almost like their team has their own official jewelry now. So he attaches the necklace right away, even though it clashes with his sleek suit and tie combination because it shows team unity and camaraderie and it’s definitely not because he feels like they’re family and wants to broadcast it to the world that he belongs somewhere.
“So what did you bring me?”
All his warm and fuzzy feelings end abruptly and his face falls comically. He guiltily looks over at Selina, then back to Ecco and Jonathan. “I, uh, didn’t think. Uh.”
Ecco is scandalized. “You didn’t bring any souvenirs?”
“I was at home the whole time! It’s not like I was on a trip!” He looks around for any support he can find. “You’re not supposed to bring gifts when you just go home.” He’s losing this battle even though it’s perfectly logical. He didn’t go anywhere. He points in desperation at Selina. “She didn’t get you anything either. And she’s been everywhere.” He flutters his hands at the “everywhere” to emphasize his point.
“I brought barbeque sauce from Texas.” She’s smug and Jeremiah kind of hates her a little at the moment.
He opens and closes his mouth a few times before he hangs his head in defeat. He waves his hand vaguely at the duty-free shop. “Go pick out something you want.”
Ecco squeals with excitement and tugs Selina and Jonathan along with her. Suddenly Jeremiah feels like a very single, very harried parent.
The drive to Langley is short and Jonathan is only part way through recounting his epic disaster in babysitting his cousins when their SUV stops in front of the CIA headquarters. They’re quick and efficiently ushered into a conference room painted stark white with dozens of computer screens littering the walls and a glass conference table in the center. They sit near each other and lean in to talk in hushed tones as they wait.
“Isn’t it a bit odd that they called us all the way back here?” Selina whispers.
“Is it odd?” Ecco asks as she twirls in her chair.
“Have you ever been to the CIA headquarters before?”
Her eyes widen. “No.” She scoots her chair closer to the group. “Do you think they’re going to kill us?”
“What?!” Jonathan grips his hands on his chair.
“They’re not going to kill us,” Jeremiah comforts, though he’s not entirely sure why they were called in either. All he knows is that it was absolutely vital.
They have no more time to speculate because the door to the conference room is yanked open and their director, a woman who Jeremiah has never seen before, and Alfred of all people enter the room. The director and Alfred take a sit directly across from the team, while the woman takes a seat at the wall a few feet away from the table. She immediately pushes on her reading glasses and starts reading through a stack of files on her lap.
“Thank you for coming in on such short notice,” the director starts as if they even had a choice in the matter. “First, I want to tell you all what a great job you’re doing. Really top-notch.”
“We’re proud of our children,” Alfred adds with his disarming smile. The director shoots him a look. “What? I recruited most of them, didn’t I? I can feel like a proud father.”
“You also recruited Pepper.”
Alfred cringes. “That was not my fault.”
“The forest called her back,” Jeremiah comments before he can stop himself.
Alfred laughs heartily and the director rubs the bridge of her nose. “Let’s move on, shall we?”
“Please do,” the woman at the wall voices, not even looking up from her papers.
The director seems to get a little nervous before continuing. “Right, yes. Where was I?”
“We’re awesomesauce,” Ecco supplied helpfully.
“Right, thank you. Seeing as you’ve proven yourself capable, we have a new assignment for you. This one is very big and unfortunately, we do not have as much information as we’d like, but time is of the essence. We don’t have the luxury of detailed analysis this time.”
“How big?” Jeremiah asks.
“Code Orange.”
“More like Vermillion,” Alfred supplies.
The director ignores Alfred. “You’ll be joining a terrorist task force. You’ll meet up with them in Gotham—”
Jeremiah stops breathing. “Wait, what?”
“We’ll brief you on the strategy and background into the night and you’ll leave first thing in the morning—”
“Hold on…” Jeremiah can’t believe what’s he’s hearing. It can’t actually be what he’s thinking. Gotham has a lot of organizations, right?
“Now Wayne Enterprises is difficult to infiltrate so most of you will be working at a distance.”
Shit, shit, shit, it’s real. It’s really happening. His worst nightmare that he never even knew existed. He can’t deal with this, it cannot be happening. “Just what the fuck do you think you’re talking about?” he shouts. | 04418e060a1241d0ab6c5c668657a8b1 | ['4c4eac2073e44c08940e8d805d909e05'] | “Bruce,” he says, trying to direct Bruce’s attention onto him and away from Selina, who he could see had detected Bruce’s death glares and her hand was twitching in restraint, trying not to reach for her weapon. Selina really, really hates death glares, the hypocrite.
Bruce finally settles his eyes onto Jeremiah and it’s not any less intense than that night and the thumb and maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. He glowers for a few moments longer before he says, “I’m hungry.”
Jeremiah blinks, scrunching his eyebrows in confusion.
“I haven’t eaten since Saturday,” Bruce elaborates, arms still crossed tightly over his chest and his mouth forming into an almost pout.
“You, what? Fuck, Bruce!” He grabs Bruce’s arm and starts to drag him to the cafeteria. “You can’t do that. Do you want to collapse?” Jeremiah swears in Romani as the head down the stairs to the cafeteria. Bruce is surprisingly pliant under his fingers, actually, the fact that Bruce pointed out – voluntarily – he hadn’t eaten in days was suspicious, but Jeremiah files it away to think about later.
Jeremiah sits Bruce down at a large table in the corner of the nearly empty room and goes to order food. He brings back with him three sandwiches, one for him, two for Bruce, because Bruce hasn’t eaten in days, a large plate of fries, two fruit cups, and two cokes, and pushes the food close to Bruce.
“Eat,” he gestures, grabbing a fry and popping it in his mouth.
Bruce glowers at the Jeremiah, ignoring the food his arms crossed again. “We have a strict no-dating subordinates policy here at Wayne Enterprises.”
Jeremiah chokes on his fry and gulps down half of his coke to settle himself. Bruce just continues to glare, eyes so narrowed they lost all semblance of color and are now black slits of anger, no, something a bit more petty than anger.
“I would appreciate it if you would uphold the standards of professionalism when you’re here and follow our policies. Or I’ll have to inform Lucius.”
Bruce lifts a brow like that’s a really horrible threat and to Bruce, it is because it means nagging and distraction from work and not getting everything he wants, but to Jeremiah, it means talking to someone not insane.
Jeremiah settles back in his chair and opens his mouth a little when he realizes what’s going on. Bruce is, somehow, for some reason, jealous. He smiles and doesn’t even try to contain the little thrill of delight that bubbles up from his stomach into his chest, because Bruce is thinking about him, and Bruce doesn’t want his attention drifting elsewhere, and maybe now Bruce knows what it felt like when Ra's fucking al Ghul was always hanging around and maybe Jeremiah is going to torture Bruce. Just a little. He needs to put his psychological training to use sometime.
Jeremiah shrugs. “I’m not an employee of Wayne Enterprises if you’ll recall.”
Bruce’s scowl deepens. “You’re a shareholder. It’s close enough.”
Jeremiah smirks and throws his arm over the back of his chair. “Nice try. Now eat your food.”
Bruce remains stubborn and silent.
Jeremiah leans closer. “Do I need to feed you myself?”
Bruce quirks his lips and shrugs his head to the side in challenge.
“Eat the damn food, Bruce.”
“Abide by our policies, Miah.”
“It’s not a crime to flirt.”
“It’s sexual harassment,” Bruce sneers like he even cares about public relations and lawsuits and like Ra's al Ghul had always behaved with professionalism.
“You used to idealize that kind of behavior,” Jeremiah spits out before he can stop himself and okay, maybe this conversation is turning a bit ugly, but Bruce started it.
Bruce always started it.
Bruce shifts his eyes uncomfortably. “Ra's is no longer a valued member of this company.”
Jeremiah scoffs. “He’s still a shareholder. Just like me.”
“I said he wasn’t a valued member.”
“And I am?”
“Yes,” Bruce says it with an overtone of duh and Jeremiah slumps against his chair in defeat. “What don’t you understand about that?”
“I don’t understand anything about the way you think.” Jeremiah flails his hands in frustration.
He pauses and stares at Bruce, trying to convey his annoyance and vexation, and yes, his chagrin, he has a lot of chagrin, buckets full. He’s never before felt so much chagrin and okay, that’s a really funny word, he needs to stop thinking it before he starts to smile because that would totally undermine his glare.
“Just…eat your food.”
Bruce picks up his sandwich but doesn’t break eye contact with Jeremiah. “I’ll have Lucius brief you on our policies. There’s no dating. Clothes must be worn at all times.”
Jeremiah throws a fry at Bruce.
It becomes the norm for Jeremiah to pop in at Bruce’s office every day. Once in the morning to bring him breakfast and make sure he’s wearing fresh clothes, and then at lunch.
They talk and eat together like old times and Lucius soon joins in on their mini-hang-outs and eventually James too when Bruce decides his exile is over, “I still don’t even know what I did!” James whines.
Jeremiah coughs and unconsciously rubs his lips with the back of his hand.
It also becomes Jeremiah’s very enjoyable habit of waving to Selina when he reaches the engineering level. Especially in view of Bruce, who can see them through his glass pane office, why most of the offices in Wayne Enterprises have so many glass panes and so few walls, Jeremiah will never be able to figure out. Sometimes he even stops by to chat with her, and maybe he leans really close and laughs with her.
“Just what do you think you’re doing, Miah?” Selina hisses with false cheer through her teeth locked in a grin. |
8da89625a07c4e45955028d9adb01c5a | ['4c6f97e8b62d427dad07e7d244cc038c'] |
1. Made From Light
She was the most beautiful creature he had ever had the fortune to lay eyes on. Everything about her was perfect from her golden bob to her odd shoes. The only thing that was an issue was the fact that she was an Angel with delicate white fluffy wings; unlike him, the lowly Demon.
Rin Okumura, the Demon prince, couldn’t look away from her. The sun seemed to shine down on her just to make him hate himself even more for being the son of Satan.
_You can not touch one that is made from light._
Rin was currently slumped down on a bench in the middle of the True Cross City Park. He had skipped his last lesson in favour of getting some peace and quiet, away from his brothers nagging and his teachers lecturing. He had been sat there for over an hour now and students from the Academy had started appearing, either walking home or hanging out on the green in groups. Which is when she showed up, surrounded by five other Angels, walking along and enjoying each others company.
He shifted slightly as they walked past and he looked at their wings in distaste. The Demon princes’ wings looked like dragons wings, black and covered in scales with a thin membrane between the bones enabling him to sore around. The Angels wings looked like normal birds wings and varied in size, colour and shape but all of them looked like liquid satin. His tail flicked with annoyance and he bit his lip; if only he looked more like them he could have the courage to go talk to her!
_If only he didn’t look like a monster._
One of the Angels in her group glanced over to him as he collected himself from a fit of laughter and frowned suddenly and the Demon.
_Here we go…_
Rin shifted down slightly into the bench more than he already was in hopes that they would just carry on and leave him alone. Obviously he had no such luck as the Mohawked Angel alerted his piers to his presence. The young golden haired woman made eye contact with him and the blush that was already on her face grew in size and deepened in colour while her Dove like wings quivered behind her.
“What’re you lookin’ at punk?” Mohawk spat roughly. He squared his shoulders up and puffed up his wings to try and look intimidating.
“Bon, lets just leave hi-“ Pinky spoke as he reached out to grab his friends arm.
“I said, what’re you lookin’ at punk!?!” Bon snarled, looking down at him with distain.
_Uh oh, here comes the word vomit…_
“Well I ain’t gonna be looking at you am I, you ugly rooster.” Rin spat back.
It was if time froze for a second as Bons’ friends looked between him and the Demon.
Bon face turned beet red as he started to splutter at the insult while Rins smug grin grew.
It was a well known fact Angels and Demons didn’t get along, because even though the truce had been established over 180 years ago, grudges over food, or realms in this case, can go down for generations or so the saying goes. Even though most of the world had moved on quite a lot of the older, more powerful families still bore hatred for one another; whether you were friends or lovers with the offending breed it didn’t matter, they still looked down at each other.
_Just like my shitty family does._
Rin stood up suddenly and swung his school bag over his shoulder and glared at the taller teen.
“I’m gonna go seeing as someone interrupted my alone time, that way you can get out of my hair and I’ll get out of your plumage.” Rin gave a sarcastic smile and walked off leaving the group to try and hold back Bon as he launched after the lanky Demon.
As he was walking away he heard Poka-brow laugh deliberately and loudly enough so he could hear her.
“Oh my god did you see his wings? They looked ridiculous with no feathers on them, almost like they had a disease. His tail and his stupid ears were just as bad too; I’m so glad I’m not a Demon, I would hate to look like a monster!” She barked out another laugh.
Rin tense and started to walk quicker, far away from them.
_Why can’t they just leave well enough alone, I wasn’t doing anything to them, ass holes._
By now they were out of sight and far away as he rounded another corner and started slowly down a set of stairs. Maybe he would have time to get some Sukiyaki before Yukio found him.
“W-Wait, please stop!”
Rin blanched and turned around to look behind himself and saw the Angel of his dreams slowly running towards him. She stopped at the top of the stairs and smiled down at him suddenly as she caught her breath. Rins breath stopped at the image before him and he decided he was done for.
She made her way down to him and stopped two steps above him and smiled again, albeit a bit more timidly this time.
“Uh yeah, what do you want?” Rin asked, trying to act aloof. He adjusted his rucksack on his shoulder as he looked around to see if he could escape if need be.
“I- I wanted to apologise to you about what the others said to you back there, especially Izumo. She can be so mean sometimes.” She spoke softly and glanced between Rin and her feet as if she was uncomfortable talking to him.
_You’re the one who started talking to me first blondie._ | 156c07dae7134cdf83f74aea2a43e7bc | ['4c6f97e8b62d427dad07e7d244cc038c'] | "Alright!" he yelled, putting his hands on his hips with a grin plastered on his face, slipping back into his goofy façade. "We'll talk about this later. Why don't you go help Rin with dinner?"
"M'kay!" Yukio said cheerfully and nodded his head.
'I'm going to become an exorcist!' he thought with a bright smile.
* * *
Rin hasn't been the same since that man attacked him two years ago. He is stronger, unusually stronger. Not only is he stronger but he noticed a slim change in his senses, he can hear, see, and smell slightly better than before. He can also sense...things, he wrote it off as his imagination but it's almost as if he can feel things around him that aren't there. Rin's emotions have been dulled for the lack of a better word, he never gets as excited or happy or sad as he used to, but like everything else the change is slim. Rin may not be the sharpest kid but he's not stupid, he knows he's not normal anymore.
Rin prepared the Katsudon in three large porcelain bowls and placed them in the center of the wooden table. The other priests are gone for the weekend because of some business 'What kind of business does a priest need to travel for anyways? I'll have to ask daddy.' he thought as he set a pair of chopsticks and a napkin in front of three seats. Rin looked back at the table and nodded in approval 'Okay, looks good' he turned towards the sink "Yukio, you almost done with those dishes?" he asked while tapping his foot.
"Yep! Just finishing up this last pot." Yukio hollered
"OK, I guess I should go get dad." Rin thought out-loud. Just in time said priest barged through the doorway.
"Ah I'm so hungry! You boys are my saviors." Fujimoto bellowed while taking a seat at the end of the table.
The two children followed and sat on either side of Shirou. The three of them clapped their hands together and yelled "Itadakimasu!" then dug in. Halfway through their meal Rin spoke up. "Dad, why did everyone leave?"
Fujimoto tensed "Business." he replied
"What kinda business?" Rin questioned
'Damn this kid's really putting me through the wringer." he thought "A blessing on an old house the next town over." he said.
"Why don't they just have some priest closer do it?" he asked
"They're all busy and the request was urgent so we thought we'd help 'em out." he smoothly lied
"Oh" Rin, satisfied with his father's answer, left it at that as he got up to clean his dish.
"He's lyin to ya kid! What er ya stupid? Rin heard
" I'm not stupid!" he yelled in the direction he heard the voice
Shirou and Yukio both watched in confusion as Rin shouted 'It almost looks like he spoke to that goblin." Shirou thought in shock and caution. He saw no reason to hurry and take it out since it won't hurt anyone but maybe he should of. 'It's probably just my imagination, I am getting old' he thought
Fujimoto got up from his seat and took his, Yukio's, and Rin's empty bowls. " Why don't you two get to bed, I'll clean up and come tuck you both in once I'm done. Okay?" Deciding to ignore Rin's outburst.
Rin turned back to his father and mumbled an okay and walked out of the room. "Okay see you in a minute." Yukio said to his father with obvious question in his eyes then followed Rin.
Shirou sighed 'Maybe I should check Kurikara once more, just to be safe.' he thought to himself
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Katsudon is a big bowl of rice with pork cutlets on top along with seasoning and sauces if you didn't know. Anyways comment and kudos if you enjoyed, sorry about the length.
3. Chapter 3
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Rin wonders why his dad is fighting air.
"You got to be kiddin me!"
One would think after a dear sibling is almost kidnapped and murdered, one would stick with said sibling on long, dangerous walks home. Where, may I remind you, almost kidnapping and murder occurred. But unfortunately that is not the case, Rin is left to walk home alone...again.
And so Rin began his journey home...alone...again.
'I can't believe he went home without me! Yes I had to stay like an hour or whatever late, but so what! Dad made us promise to always walk home together no matter what. Not such a goodie goodie now, are ya Yukio? And I thought that dad was gonna walk us home today too! Well whatever like I care, I've grown since I was five, I'm a big boy now! No, I'm a man, hehe yeah, a man.'
With his inner rambling Rin was already almost all of the way home. That's when he saw six men and women in long black coats, loaded with guns, swords, and what looked to be grenades. "Wow..." he said to himself as he watched the people run past him, down the corner in front of him.
'Who're they?' Rin asked himself.
He took a closer glance at the last one speeding by 'Seems like they're professionals...Maybe military?'
Fueled by a seven year olds raging curiosity, Rin followed the mysterious people. Turning right, he realized they went down his street. Rin ran after them and lifted his hand to his forehead and squinted, trying to get a better few of the strangers barging into the church he calls home, the sound of gunshots filling their wake.
'Wait, gunshots!?' Rin sprinted to the church in a panic. 'Dad! Yukio!'
He reached the double doors of the monastery and listened, the sounds of shouts and bangs and screams filled the small church.
"Yukio, get back!" he heard his father's voice yell. |
bc1b987f13a04db2a586a97a501b0926 | ['4c7f2de31dc94556bd7ef01a9b4cc320'] | His jaw tightens, and she tries not to think about who it reminds her of. He seems to search her face for something and whatever it is, he must find it, because he gives her a curt nod. And then he is gone, taking his glass with him, and Clarke is alone.
She tells herself she feels nothing as she gathers her belongings before leaving for the strategy room, her eyes straining to avoid the couch that lines the wall of her cabin. The one that sits next to a softly lit globe that sits within perfect view from her desk across the room.
She tells herself she feels nothing as she passes his door, just a hundred feet down the hallway from her own. Tries not to remember how many times she has knocked on that door, how many times she was greeted with a smile meant just for her when it opened.
She tells herself she feels nothing as she ignores her mother’s voice calling her name, choosing instead to focus on the sounds of her footsteps that echo off the walls of the corridor. Tells herself she feels nothing as she refuses to meet her eye when she is finally pulled to a stop. Tells herself she feels nothing as she disregards the appeals that spill from her mother’s lips of, _no, Clarke, you can’t do this_ , and, _he wouldn’t want this_.
She feels nothing as she wrenches her arm from the woman’s grasp, leaving her behind with the memories she has silenced.
She is surprised by the number of people that fill the strategy room, each of them parting to give her a clear path to the broad table at the center of the crowded room. She does not tell them why they’re here. They already know. She feels her chest swell as she takes stock of the faces—so many familiar faces—that have come to help, to make sure that the boy who took care of all of them, who helped them survive when no one thought they would, will not go unavenged. She sees Murphy at the corner of the room and gives him a nod. It isn’t a thank you, will never be a thank you, but she knows he understands.
“It’s clear that Ice Nation will always be a threat to Skaikru,” she announces, her words met with a tense silence. She avoids the pained gazes that fall on her. “This is not the first time they have broken our alliance for their own gain, but it will be the last.”
She spreads her hands across the map that rests on the table in front of her, gesturing to an area in the southwest corner.
“Tonight, we’ll send fifty of our people to make camp on the outskirts of Polis. Since King Roan has taken power, the most powerful officials of Azgeda have taken residence here, their numbers close to three thousand. Once their leadership is gone, the smaller villages will disperse, and Ice Nation will crumble.” Her hand slips over one of the figurines dispersed across the map, pressing the pad of her fingertip into the points of its crown. She topples it with a flick of her wrist. “We will be armed with assault rifles, and each member of the team will be equipped to carry three hundred bullets. With those numbers and the element of surprise, this won’t be a difficult mission.”
She stands straight, and though her gaze is leveled at the men and women that gather in the room, she doesn’t see a single face.
“We attack at dawn,” she says clinically, and though the words are threatening, she feels nothing. She will be steel, cold and hardened against the cruelty of this world. She will be stone, chipped at the corners but solid and unshakable in her verdicts. She will command death as the people of Earth have asked of her.
She stares blankly ahead at those around the table.
“There will be no survivors.” | 8df8fb0a93e74e89bc0a7d349cb32c06 | ['4c7f2de31dc94556bd7ef01a9b4cc320'] | He feels it that night as they make their way back to her camp, her home, when he notices the way the moonlight glints off her hair. He’s taken back to a time when the world had already ended, but it hadn’t, to a time when the simplest things felt like the most complicated. The silver halo that had convinced him to stay, to fight, to be better, is still there, still shining for him. He smiles when he finally notices the red that peaks from beneath it.
He feels it as the fire that glows in the center of her camp flickers against the earth, warms him in his makeshift bedroll she promises to make more permanent when daylight comes. Her smile is genuine to the point of delirium, and he feels it tugging at the corners of his own lips. They talk about everything, about the day she found Madi, about algae salads and recycled water, about how the Ark had felt as cold as the Earth had scorching. They talk about everything but the one thing that keeps the burning in his chest from leaving entirely.
He feels it when he sees the flicker of the familiar fire in her eyes, intent on keeping them all alive at all costs. And then one day she is determined to stay, determined to wait for Monty and Raven’s return as the rest of the group advances to safety, and suddenly the drowning tears from his lips like a bullet from an accidental trigger. _I can’t leave you behind again_ , said with a voice that breaks at the same time his heart does. And then she is pressed to his chest, and she is whispering words into his neck, but the only ones he hears over the sounds of both of their sobs are _only choice_.
But when she pulls away, she meets his eye, and though they are red and stained by grief and lamentation over lost time, they are sure as she says, _it had to be done_. When her lips meet his, they taste like forgiveness and saltwater, and for the first time in a long time, Bellamy doesn’t feel like he’s drowning anymore.
When Madi tells him about the radio a few days later, about the routine that salvaged Clarke’s sanity, his breath catches. When he sees Clarke in front of the campfire that night, sees the way her face lightens and the smile that creeps across her face, he understands. She doesn’t need to say the words—neither of them ever do. One look at her, and he knows what kept her alive, what kept her hopeful. He understands now that for every moment he has been hers, she has been his, has always been his.
He shouldn’t know what it feels like to be loved by Clarke Griffin.
But he does.
7. Chapter 7
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Their noise has begun to draw a crowd. He can see Harper and Monty enter the room warily, sees Raven on edge at the control panel while Emori drums her fingers anxiously against the tabletop.
>
> “John, stop it,” she says sharply.
>
> “Stay out of this, Emori,” Murphy says. He squares his shoulders and gets so close to Bellamy’s face he can feel his breath against his cheeks. “You think you’re better than us, Bellamy?”
>
> For the prompt: Bellamy and Murphy getting into a fight on the Ring and Murphy taking it too far by bringing up Clarke.... give me all the pain, sister
>
> Special thanks to @atlasbellamyblake on tumblr for knowing how much I love angsty prompts!
Afterward, he doesn’t remember what starts it. Something stupid and inconsequential enough that it probably doesn’t warrant a second glance. After living for the last four months in a confined space with only six other people, Bellamy’s learned that arguments up here can start at the drop of a hat.
This time was no different—one moment he’s discussing the schedule for training with Echo, and then Murphy says something that rubs him the wrong way, and before he knows it they’re in the middle of a full-on shouting match.
“What, you think you can just decide who does what and when?” Murphy challenges, his voice echoing loudly off the metal walls of the room.
“That’s not what I’m saying, Murphy, and you know it,” Bellamy snaps. He knows this is Murphy’s way of picking a fight, of riling him up most likely for the sake of boredom. He tries to keep his temper in check, fists tightening at his sides until his nails dig painfully into his palms.
“Really?” Murphy yells with a sneer. He strides to Bellamy, going toe to toe with him and meeting his gaze directly in spite of their height difference. “Because ever since we got here that’s exactly what you’ve been doing.”
Their noise has begun to draw a crowd. He can see Harper and Monty enter the room warily, sees Raven on edge at the control panel while Emori drums her fingers anxiously against the tabletop.
“John, stop it,” she says sharply.
“Stay out of this, Emori,” Murphy says. He squares his shoulders and gets so close to Bellamy’s face he can feel his breath against his cheeks. “You think you’re better than us, Bellamy?”
Bellamy clenches his jaw, doesn’t dignify the comment with a response. The room has gone still, and everyone knows this is different from all the other bickering that has taken place over the past few weeks. This is vicious. Feral.
“Who died and made you king?” he asks, his tone low. Bellamy grits his teeth so hard he thinks they might shatter. “Oh, _that’s_ right, Clarke did. When you left her to burn.”
Bellamy’s fist makes contact with Murphy’s cheek at the same instant Emori shouts, “ _John!_ ” |
199eba0a9253487a8000c5cdd51abfa4 | ['4c853ef64d994c31b1d39e294d91f440'] | “Kurt I know I have work today but I’m scared to go.” Diane whispered pulling Kurt from his thoughts. This made Kurt even angrier but he knew he had to keep his anger in check around her, so he did not scare her like he did the night before. “I’ll come with you to work and sit with you the whole day. If a client comes in I’ll go and sit right outside of your office. I will not leave you alone at all. I promise.” Kurt said sternly leaving no room for argument. “Ok” Diane said quietly, getting up and going to the bathroom to start her day.
Kurt also got up to start his day. He went into the kitchen to start the coffee for them. When he was done he walked into the bathroom to see Diane in the shower. He decided to join her so he got in and started to help her wash her hair. It was his way to make up for scaring her last night. After her hair was washed he washed her body too.
When he was done she turned to him with a smile. Wordlessly she started to wash his hair. Kurt was happy just to look at her beautiful body. The way the water poured over her. How her eyes sparkled with her smile. He loved her so much. After she had washed his hair and body they both got out, dried each other off. They got dressed and he helped her zip up her dress. Hand in hand they walked into the kitchen to drink the coffee he made for them.
When they got settled he asked the question that he has wanted the answer to since she got home the previous night “Diane what were you and Will arguing about last night” Diane looked down before answering “He has a case that he is going to have to go to New York for. The client has told him that he killed his wife. He needs a ballistics expert for the case and he asked me if I could persuade you to take the case even though he was guilty. I told him that I was not going to try because those were your beliefs and I admire you for them. He got mad and started to scream at me. I tried to calmly explain, but he hit me to shut me up. I backed away from him and as soon as I out of his office I ran to mine, got my things and drove home.” She was still not looking at him fearing his reaction.
Kurt was angry about had happened but he wanted to make sure she knew that he was not mad at her. Kurt went to her and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry darling” he whispered into her ear. Kurt leaned down to touch his forehead to hers. When there eyes met all he could see was trust in her eyes. He knew she trusted him to protect her.
After just standing there holding onto one another Kurt let go of her saying “We should get going if you want to get to work on time.” Diane smiled at him and said “ Ok, let’s go. Can we take your truck?” “Of course” Kurt replied and grabbed Diane’s hand and lead her to the car. Once they were settled, we started towards her office. He knew that today was not going to be a good day but he was going to be there for Diane in whatever way she needed.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!! I will get the next one up as soon as I can
**Author's Note:**
> I hope you enjoyed it and if you want me to continue it comment below and if you hated it I’m sorry. | a846692138b0469c9b5f94becda1c130 | ['4c853ef64d994c31b1d39e294d91f440'] | It’s Never Easy to Do
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Thanks to my beta. Girl you are amazing!! I dedicate this story to Kadee!! I know your having a tough time right now and I want you to know I’m here for you and love ya girly😘😘!!! Also thanks to @includeficinthesequel for helping me with the title when I was completely lost💖!! Enjoy the story!!
Kurt sat at the computer trying to make a copy of a letter so he could give it to his new boss but he couldn’t figure out how to do it. He really didn’t want to have to get Diane to do it for him because she would definitely make fun of him.
After a few minutes of messing around with the printer and making no progress, he resigned himself to the fact that he need his wife’s help.
Kurt walked to their bedroom where he found his beautiful wife dancing to the classical music that was playing softly. She obviously did not know that he had entered the room because he was positive she would have stopped dancing if she had noticed him.
He went up to her and put his arms around her waist. Diane turned to face him surprised. “Kurt! I didn’t know that you were done working. I thought you said 4 hours. “ Diane said blushing because he had caught her dancing. “ I’m not done yet but I came to see if you could help me with the computer. I can’t figure it out, but than I was stopped by your amazing dance moves” Kurt said chuckling.
Diane looked down embarrassed. Kurt moved his fingers to under her chin to bring her eyes back to his. “ You looked amazing while you were dancing. There is nothing for you to be embarrassed for Diane” Kurt said kindly.
Diane leaned up to kiss him. When there lips met Diane wrapped her arms around his neck and he wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her closer. They kissed until both of them were gasping for air.
When they parted Kurt suggestively said “Let’s move to the bed”. When Diane opened her eyes to look at him, his eyebrows were raised and he was wearing a goofy smile. Diane started to giggle but moved anyways.
**Author's Note:**
> Yes I know this is not the next chapter of I will always protect you. I’m kinda struggling to write that right now but when I do it will be up I promise. Here’s this cute chapter to tide you over!! I hope you enjoyed it!! |
b199a71566c245708f36f871701d3b31 | ['4c90a7f865964c858fe4e781942d834a'] | Soren’s spare robes were black and of a similar style to the ones he wore during the Mad King’s War. Ike had to wash them since they were sticky from the leaky vulnerary. He did that the first night, allowing them to dry overnight. They both slept though the night and well into the morning.
Once they awoke, Ike undertook the slow process of changing Soren, who did his best to help. They went at a cautious pace, careful to avoid jostling the arm.
“I feel like a child,” Soren had commented as Ike pulled down the robe, uncovering his head.
“You’d do the same if it were me.”
“Fair enough.” Soren’s face flushed a little at that, but Ike didn’t pry.
He did, however, wash his own clothes. Might as well since they were going to be there for awhile, Ike thought. Wearing only his underwear, he laid out his clothes on the ground. The ravine received a good amount of sunlight, so it wouldn’t take long for them to dry.
“Would you like me to fix your hair?” Ike asked. Soren’s tie had loosened and he knew that he didn’t like his hair in his face.
“You don’t have to do that, Ike,” Soren said, not looking at him.
“No, I want to.” He walked over and sat behind Soren. He knew his comb was also sticky, so he planned on using his fingers. “Can I?”
Soren nodded, and Ike slowly pulled the tie from his hair. It fell to the middle of his back. Ike tentatively ran his fingers through the locks. For how well-maintained his hair normally was, he didn’t usually see Soren comb it. Still, his fingers only caught two times, so he knew he had combed it recently. Before tying it back, Ike lightly touched his scalp, gently scratching it. Soren startled but quickly relaxed. Ike rubbed circles on his head with his fingers for minutes. He had no clue what he was doing, no skill at it, but it was nice to touch him. It was nice that Soren trusted him that much.
They spent the rest of the day relaxing, staying in close proximity of each other, and when the sun rose again, Soren decided it was time to move on. While Ike agreed—he really needed to get Soren to a healer—he was nervous to move on. He had periodically looked at the map during their break. It wasn’t detailed enough to tell if the path to Ylisstol would be different at the lower elevation. They had no choice but to continue south.
The path they chose took them through a dense forest. While there was no road, there was an informally trail, areas of land where Ike could tell there was a lot of foot traffic.
A split twig caught their attention. Ike and Soren turned their heads in the direction of the sound. They were surrounded by ten… laguz? They looked unshifted, but Ike had never heard of a laguz race with rabbit ears.
“Why are you in our warren?” a male laguz asked.
Ike could see from the corner of his eye that Soren was tense. He stepped in front of him as he asked, “Are you laguz?”
The remaining nine whispered amongst themselves while the one who spoke to them, the leader, Ike guessed, approached them. “How do you know that word? I’ve never heard a human say it.”
So this land did not use words like “laguz” or “beorc,” Ike reasoned. “What may we call you?”
“We are Taguel. Now where are you from?”
“We’re from Tellius. Does that mean anything to you?” Ike was curious, and hoped that these creatures, the Taguel, would be forthcoming with any information.
The one Ike assumed was the leader glanced at the ground. “I have heard it, but I don’t know where it is. As for laguz, I know they are beasts, like us, but our elder who knew the stories about these words has passed. I’m afraid none of us know the full story.”
“Do any of you know how to write?” Soren asked, contributing to the conversation. Ike raised an eyebrow, wondering where this was going.
The man shook his head.
“So you recount your history orally? No wonder none of you know it.”
Ike quietly scoffed. He had hoped Soren wouldn’t lump the Taguel with the laguz, but it seemed he was. Besides, Soren did not have the high ground in this argument; after mere months of finding out Tellius’s history had been warped, it wasn’t fair to judge anyone else for being ignorant.
“Sorry for him,” Ike said quickly, trying to change the conversation before it took a negative turn. “It’s our first time meeting a Taguel. Can I ask, do you ever… mate with humans?”
The leader regarded them for a moment. “We do. Many of us are not full-blooded, which is another reason many don’t know our history.” Ike noticed the man glaring at Soren.
“My companion,” Ike began, motioning to Soren, “is good at writing. Maybe he could help you out.”
“What?” Soren stepped back, staring at Ike.
Ike closed the gap and leaned towards him, whispering, “They’re different, Soren, I know it. I think it would be good for you. We’re going to be stuck around here for a bit until you recover.” He knew Soren could be stubborn, but he wanted him to have an open mind. Some good could come from this partnership.
“I can record your history for you, but I do not work for free.”
The man was definitely glaring now. “And what do you want, human?”
“Food. Any knowledge of the area will suffice, too.” | b85f347289a74e77b028a2b93a0fbf5e | ['4c90a7f865964c858fe4e781942d834a'] |
First Steps in the Ocean
**Author's Note:**
> So this is a self-indulgent one-shot that I hope to turn into a series. I really just wanted something with Ike and Soren on the beach. It turned a little sadder than expected, but it takes a nice turn. Hope you enjoy!
Ike had developed patience for many situations, but he had yet to conquer the restlessness that came with being at sea. Though the strength of the ocean amazed him, the endless blue bored him rather quickly. Everything was out of his hands out here, which was pleasant for a time, but after a week aboard the ship, he was ready for land.
He was currently pacing along the upper deck of the ship. Thankfully, the ship was small but wide, so he managed to avoid bumping shoulders with the crew. Soren had been up with him, but he went down to their room to occupy himself. Ike was sure that Soren actually enjoyed sailing, but with the lack of an impending threat and no budget to oversee, the days dragged on for him, too.
So when he saw an expansive stretch of beach appear on the horizon, Ike yelled to the captain to sail there, not caring if it was a small island.
“We should care if it’s an island, Ike,” Soren said after Ike ran down to inform him. “I didn’t pay the crew to stay while we investigate. I’m certain they’ll prepare to leave for Tellius tomorrow.”
“But this is the first bit of land we’ve seen, Soren. We won’t know if anything’s an island or a continent unless we go explore it.”
Soren remained silent. Ike was more than ready to depart from the ship, but he could understand Soren’s hesitations. “Would it be better if—”
“No, you’re right. None of my research yielded any information of other continents. No matter where we go, it’s unknown. If you’re prepared to go, then I will go with you.”
Ike knew it would be impossible to sway Soren’s opinion after that, but Ike wished he would say what he wanted. He gave into him so often; he feared that Soren neglected his own needs to satisfy his.
Now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. They needed to pack their things. Not that it took them long. Both traveled light, all their belongings filling three rucksacks, and they both knew how to keep their space tidy. The room they had on the ship was smaller than the tents they slept in during the wars, so they did not have the space to be messy. Packing at a purposely slow space only took them a few minutes. Once they were done, the pair went back above deck.
They were approaching a dock that Ike had not noticed. The boat was small, but the dock looked shorter. The sail had been lowered and they coasting towards it.
“This is gonna be a quick stop,” said a member of the crew as she passed Ike. “The wind’s blowing back to Tellius, so we can’t wait. The captain wants to know if you’re sure you want to stop.”
Ike glanced over at Soren, leaning against the railing, staring out at the water. His face was calm, smoothed into a neutral expression, frown and worry lines absent. Whether it was genuine or fake, Soren looked like he was here because he wanted to be, not only to follow him.
“Tell him we’re sure,” said Ike, eyes still focused on Soren.
The woman walked away briskly to deliver his message. Ike walked over to stand next to Soren. Now that the dock was quickly approaching, Ike could see that the dock was elevated, almost at level with the ship. The ship could only be a few feet higher, he figured. The dock connected to a grassy area, which turned into a steep hill that led to a beach.
The ship started to turn, but it wasn’t slowing down. The two exchanged a look before glancing around at the crew, noticing that no one was readying the anchor. In fact, besides the man at the wheel, no one looked particularly hurried. Ike and Soren looked at each other again.
“Sorry about this,” said the woman, hurrying back over to them. “The captain says we can’t afford to stop. You’ll have to jump onto the dock. He says we’ll go slow enough that you can do it. Personally,” she started to whisper, leaning in towards them, “I think he’s scared. Not as adventurous in his old age. Good luck, sirs.”
Ike nodded in thanks, turning his attention back to the dock that was only a few hundred feet away. He clutched the straps of the two bags he carried. “Are you ready for this?”
Soren scoffed as he adjusted the bag on his own back. “I should’ve found a crew that cared a little more about not killing the great hero of Tellius.”
“We won’t die, Soren. We’ve survived worse than this. If we can get into Gallia, we can make this jump.”
“I don’t know if I can swim.”
Ike, who was partially straddling the railing in preparation for the jump, paused. He reached over to grab Soren’s shoulder. “I can. If it comes to that, I’ll keep you alive.”
Soren flashed a small smile before swinging a leg over the railing. “You always do.”
Ike squeezed his shoulder. He brought his other leg over, standing on the narrow ledge of the ship, hands behind him, grasping the rail. Soren looked ready for the imminent leap. “Okay, we’ll go on three. One… two… three!”
Without hesitation, they both jumped. |
2d43237b84084a04b13d56636f198d2b | ['4ca18edda1794c698c4caa68e5f5f866'] | They don’t kiss before Derek leaves, but Stiles isn’t one for kissing guys or anyone who looks so broken and fragile as Derek did.
So they leave, Stiles brushes a thumb over Derek’s cheekbone and tells him to text when he gets home and call later if he needs it. Laura gives him a squeeze, murmurs lowly in his ear _thanks for the robe_ and passes her hand down his spine.
Scott’s silent until they can no longer see Derek’s SUV on the road, turned the first right corner onto Melrose, and then, looking a little dazed, he let’s out a long sigh. “What the fuck,”
Stiles nods empathetically, “what the fuck,” he agrees solemnly.
Derek does text, a little later than Stiles would have liked and definitely not when he got home because that drive doesn’t take two hours. But he texts.
**Derek, 11:53 PM:** contact the Witch
It’s unnerving, to say the least, and Stiles nearly drops his phone in his rush to get off his bed and strangle out Scott’s name.
Scott runs into his room very much in the same fashion, tripping over the uneven carpeting and his fingers trying to grab at the zipper of his pants to tug them up. “Look!” Stiles all but shrieks, turning his phone to Scott and running a hand through his hair, entirely filled with stress.
“Fuck.”
Stiles pulls his phone back, mind reeling with possibilities and he, with a shaky finger, jabs at the _call_ button. He wonders if Laura will pick up, snarling and foaming at the mouth and cackling about how foolish they all were. Suddenly, Scott’s proof of Laura being Laura through a Superbowl question is incredibly stupid and just for emphasis of this, he glares at him.
“Hello?”
“Derek!” Hearing his voice sound so normal, even a little confused on why Stiles would call him when he had just put effort into sending a text is both calming and confuses him to no end. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did Laura hurt you? I’ll get Scott to kick her ass, I swear to –“
“Um, I’m alright?” And he definitely sounds confused and Stiles is feeling a little bit of whiplash. “Why would – is there a reason I wouldn’t be?”
“Your text,” Stiles says and swallows a lump in his throat, “very ominous. No context, what so – Derek. Derek, are you _laughing?_ ”
“Sorry,” he apologies immediately, clearing out his throat but Stiles can still hear the smile in his voice. “I didn’t mean to worry you, I promise. I just –“ he can hear Derek cover the receiver, can hear him excuse himself from the room and the pause where he stows himself in his bedroom, can hear himself climb out onto the fire escape. “Hey,” he says lowly and Stiles gives Scott a thumbs up, waving him off.
“Go finish what was obviously a pee,” he tells Scott, dragging his eyes purposefully down to his crotch, grinning when Scott snickers out his ungrateful thanks and leaves, yanking his bedroom door to a close. “What’s up?”
“I just – I need confirmation, y’know?” He imagines what Derek would be doing, sitting at the rail with his legs dangling over the edge because he’s a werewolf who has no fears, one hand holding his cell to his ear and the other probably rubbing at his face. “I – I don’t want to, uh, get comfortable. And then a year goes by and she’s a mound of dust on the ground. Or it’s not _her_. Am I making sense?”
Stiles nods, wedging his phone between his shoulder and ear so he can shimmy the window open, “yeah,” he mumbles, propping up his old college textbook to keep the window from slamming shut in the middle of the night and scaring the organs from his body (he knows this from personal experience, of course) and he also has to find a way to put the obscene amount of money that he had spent on them to good use regardless of the fact that they were second hand. “That makes sense.”
Derek makes an affirmative noise and Stiles bundles himself under his sheets, shifting for a good thirty seconds before he’s comfortable. “And you didn’t text me when you got back, by the way,” he says accusingly. “I hate when you do that.”
“Sorry,” but Derek doesn’t sound entirely apologetic, “we just – we just spoke. From the Blockbuster shell right up until I text you. It was –“ Derek takes a breath and releases it, sounding a little dreamy, “it was _nice_. To have a sister again.” Stiles thinks of Cora back in South America, doing all she can to forget that Derek had survived the fire and he smiles. He’s glad Derek has someone to be a brother too, again. Someone grateful. “I forgot how easy she is to speak to. Oh! And I told her about us, is that – is that okay? I should have asked you first but it just sort of –“
“It’s fine, Der,” Stiles admonishes with a light laugh, “I tell the new cashiers at work about you all the time. Whenever I have the chance to talk about you I take it. I honestly feel sorry for Amy. You should write her a card of condolences.”
There’s a snort on the other end that makes Stiles’ heart go warm. “I’ll get right on that.”
A few seconds of silence goes past where Stiles just full on beams into the receiver, feeling slightly goofy. He reaches over and switches off his lamp, engulfed in darkness and Derek makes a noise at the back of his throat. “I’ll let you go,” he says slowly, his voice soft and rumbly in Stiles' ear, “get some sleep. You’re up in, what, four hours?” | f54a4c0f41724458a84bd22523246a2b | ['4ca18edda1794c698c4caa68e5f5f866'] | Taking a cautionary look over his shoulder to make sure that someone – _Erica_ – wasn’t staring at him intently to then make fun of him for the next fifty summers for typing Derek Hale’s name into the search bar, Stiles begins to type.
“What are you doing?” The voice is low down to his ear, deep, rumbly and shakes Stiles straight to his core, evoking the least-manliest meeping noise in the history of meeping noises. He flails, too, because when is his life just not the picture of absolute perfection?
He turns quickly to look over his shoulder, met with heated brows that look concerned and incredibly angry, because when are they not angry, really. Overcome with the embarrassment of being potentially caught, Stiles’ eyes flick back to the computer screen and up towards the search bar.
_Dety8wfw_.
A course of relief surges through his body and he can’t quite believe his new-found luck.
“What are you doing?” Derek presses again, not retracting the close space that both Derek’s lack of personal awareness and Stiles’ nervous shiftiness has left them with.
He can’t answer, his throat running dry and his mind spinning out of whack that he doesn’t even know if his mouth remembers words or the English language.
He always looks even better up close, like when you see a really attractive piece of art and when you get close you really start to notice extra details that you’d like to map out with your tongue and keep a visual memory forever because the paint looks even better up close, like it was made by all of the greats. And the smell, fuck, the smell is even better, not that old lead paint that you can get sort of head high from, but the really good plastic smelling paint that you’d get when you were younger that smells actually rather good – and Stiles is going to drop the painting analogy and get to the bottom line. Derek Hale is incredibly attractive and smells absolutely divine, Stiles may way to lick him all over and devour him like a Sunday dinner because he’s a terrible human. And he also belongs in a museum or an art gallery.
Derek’s eyebrows jerk upwards, his silent way of saying _do you have an answer to my question?_
Stiles opens his mouth. Shuts it again and then opens it again. “Um,” and he closes his mouth once more, shaking his head.
Derek pinches the bridge of his nose like a resigned father and lets out a long sigh. “People are being turned into animals, Stiles. Mr Harris? He has the limbs of a spider. The librarian? She and her dog have switched heads.”
Against his will and against any sense of self-preservation he actually possesses, Stiles’ lips quirk with amusement.
The huff of frustration that tickles his eyebrows lets him know that his amusement had not gone unnoticed. “You need to be looking at the Beastiary! Not – Facebook!”
Stiles doesn’t answer, partially because he may have developed some obscure kinks over the years and being yelled at by someone as Grecian God as Derek Hale is _definitely one of them_ , and also because whenever Beastiary is mentioned all he can think of is bestiality thanks to the warped minds of Scott and Allison. He moves his head back, probably reveals all of his chins, and breaths in that close and personal smell of Derek. And his mind just fucks off.
_“_ You smell –“ Stiles bites down harshly on his tongue before he can say something embarrassing like _really good_ or _like something I want to wipe my tongue on_. So he just leaves it there, him accusing Derek of smelling and Derek taking a small step backwards and blinking rapidly like he’s trying to comprehend exactly what would possess Stiles to ever accuse him of something so obviously fake.
He expects to get growled at, an onslaught of offensive comments as Derek brings up his guard, trying to mask the very dull pang of offence he’d feel but that doesn’t happen. Well, Stiles will never know if it was ever going to happen, because the front door to the McCall house is flinging open with such aggression that the entire room – so just Stiles, Derek, Scott, and Erica hiding off in the kitchen – is ripped from whatever Stiles has pushed them into and are now focusing intently on Isaac.
Isaac who has, instead of normal hands and human fingers, the hooves of a horse.
“Fucking Christ,” Derek lets out on a breath. Unable to contain himself any longer, Stiles giggles and giggles and can’t quite seem to stop.
/ / /
Isaac and his hooves are carted to the loft where all of the… _creations_ are being hoarded per Derek’s request. Isaac refuses to even look in Stiles’ direction which is really a blessing rather than a curse, because now he doesn’t have to look at the scarves he wears or the sunglasses he keeps on his head that push his curls from his face.
The true punishment, however, is Derek forcing Stiles to stay back and “make sure nobody steps out of line”. But Stiles is smarter than that, he immediately clocked on that this was a backwards way for Derek to get back at him for professing that he smells. And maybe a little bit for laughing hysterically at the _actual hooves Isaac has_.
The joke is on them, however, because Stiles gets to revel in watching Mr Harris on his back, looking forlorn, constipated and infuriated all at once on Derek’s sofa, little spider legs and arms waving frantically. He doesn’t say much, but when Stiles glides past with a shit eating grin he writhes and mutters angrily under his breath. |
967aa3a1fe934f878268e1a03819e17f | ['4ca35f5707904c38b746dea0d7b52088'] |
White Ice
**Author's Note:**
> hmmmm i dont particularly like the flow of this but i cant figure out how to improve it...
Ghiaccio's name was not always that, and perhaps that was never intended to be his true name, but it was the name he found himself growing into. His original name was not something he found himself considering his, anymore, and he would take that with him to the grave.
In his youth, he would have been mocked endlessly for being named so-- moreso than he was mocked for his zealous enjoyment of ice skating. He'd always been interested in the subject, basically since the day he learned how to read. Being a curious kid, he'd heard of it, thought on the concept of people gliding across ice on sharp skates, and found himself invested. He surrounded himself in knowledge and the spirit of the sport, and did not hesitate to gush about it to his peers at school, and he was met with a range of reactions from apathy to irritation to ridicule. At the very least, at home, his parents humored him.
He took to practicing, and one could consider him a prodigy. However, his enthusiasm was not matched by others in the least. The only support he got from his parents was transportation to be able to practice, and lack of rejection when he spoke about it. Only a lack of outright rejection-- his words generally seemed unheard. His father would maybe hum in response, once in a while, but no genuine interest was shown.
Over time, he began keeping to himself, as more and more often he noticed it isolated him, but something in him made it almost hurt not to speak of it. He'd started rambling at nothing alone in his room, to the point it concerned his parents. Eventually they took him to a psychiatrist and he was diagnosed autistic, which seemingly relieved them, but didn't change their tune in the least to better accommodate.
Through elementary school, he found himself alone most of the time. He thought he was pretty lucky nobody approached him to antagonize him, though. It was a miracle to him, quite frankly-- he could see his image of a little fat blonde kid with glasses, always wearing long sleeves and tall collars, as fitting perfectly as the Weak Nerd in a show, asking to have his lunch money stolen, but he was left alone. It was manageable, if not lonely. He kept to his practice and research, and tried to keep himself occupied.
As he went into middle school, he looked to go into a sport, and went with swimming, considering his lack of preferred options. He did end up making friends through it, some even willing to listen to him. Whether because he found a new crowd or because his peers were now marginally more mature, he didn't know. However, new problems arose; he had always had echolalia, and it hadn't ever been an issue before due to his isolation, but kids can be cruel, and his peers were vicious about it. Again, ridicule silenced him. He was less alone, at least. At least he had someone to speak to, even if their "joking" mockery tightened his throat.
Slowly, his embarrassment and low self esteem began manifesting as rage, and he often found his knuckles going white around the nearest hard object as his "friends" talked with him. He swore he felt it get colder, although he'd always associated what he was feeling with fire. He became louder and more outspoken with age, though often still repressing his echolalia and special interests.
Life evolved from there; he went through each grade in school, became a respected member of the swim team, picked up an additional long-term special interest in linguistics, still had to deal with his autistic traits being mocked, still felt the air around him chill as he almost lost it, still regularly practiced his skating. In the summer between two years of high school, when he was fifteen, he found something unusual happening. Staring at himself in the mirror, he noticed something off. He was unsure how long it had been so, but his hair was looking like a light green color rather than its usual blonde. He vaguely remembered his mother mentioning that chlorinated pool water could do that, but how many years had he been swimming and not had this occur? Ultimately, he ignored it, and went on. The green tinge never left; in fact, it had gotten worse by the next month. Going into his next year of high school, he dyed his hair back to blonde.
By winter, he noticed the roots of his hair were showing-- still being light green, but bordering on blue. He dyed his hair again, deliberated on what the fuck was happening, and made the decision not to tell anyone about it. He had bigger problems at the time, like how he consistently felt freezing even in a heated room where everyone else felt fine. A doctor's visit left him more confused, with an unnaturally low body temperature but no known cause. He had no other symptoms of hypothermia, except a cold sensation and shivering. He left without further treatment or explanation, despite insistence that something _must_ be wrong, and carried on life. Though the weather was starting to warm up, he could see his breath on the way out.
The "cold flashes" began to come and go, and it merely became a part of his life. He began focusing on the more typical aspects of teenage life, like relationships. He found himself attracted to his male peers, and though he didn't personally understand the distinction of gender, he knew that there was a pattern here, and that it wouldn't go over well if he ever were to admit it. More and more, he thought on what gender meant to him, and began to come to the conclusion he couldn't really call himself a man, nor a woman. He couldn't say he was gay, both for the backlash and that it was not true. He couldn't conceptualize others seeing him as a Man.
Like a fool, he mentioned it to his parents, who, as always, seemed not to be listening-- until they were. The room froze, as the two of them both showed surprise. The fact they responded terrified him. They didn't say much, just a surprised little "oh" from his father, a look from his mother. They said nothing else, and left the atmosphere tense.
At dinner that night, his parents gave him a huge spiel about him being an adult and being independent, candy coating their real meaning (that _had_ to be related to what they heard), and gave him six weeks to find a job and move out. The drink in his hand froze over. Though he wasn't very obviously reliant on his parents, he wasn't sure he had the capability to function on his own. He'd hate to admit it, but there were just parts of society he couldn't get a grasp on.
He did manage to get a job in retail and find an incredibly shitty apartment. His parents offered no help, despite being somewhat wealthy. In trying not to buckle under the pressure of life, all his free time was devoted to chores and rest, and he dropped his skating hobby. His hair grew out blue, and eventually, he chopped off the blonde ends. He had no friends, given the lack of time for contact, and felt as though he was running in circles. He tried to take steps to revive his life, starting an early morning routine with a complex hairstyle, 3 km run, and a substantial breakfast, but at the end of the day, that's all he felt he could do. The air turned cold around him some nights as he stared at the blank wall, wishing there was something.
The stress of living got under his skin. At work one day, something went wrong in his mind. He wasn't even sure what broke him. A customer said something rude, as he was used to, but instead of shrugging it off as he's continually forced himself to do, he felt his fist collide with their jaw before he realized it. Their flesh seemed to freeze under his knuckles, and the top layer of skin ripped and stuck to his fist. He couldn’t even pinpoint what they’d said. They hit the ground, and he didn’t stop. His knuckles hurt, vaguely, and his mind was completely blank until he was being grabbed and handcuffed. He had little to say for himself, and he obsessed over why the hell he did that as he lay in prison.
The news spread of an assault victim with not only blunt injuries but also a level of frostbite. He didn't realize how much of their body he'd frozen, and he certainly didn't know how he'd been freezing things. Some nights, when he found himself regretting his actions, he'd find tears freezing to his face and his shaky breaths visible.
The news reached members of a criminal organization, who found the circumstances of the freezing suspicious and promising. A visitor came to him, all 2 meters tall, purple hair with silvery roots, disconcerting black sclera. They were perfectly stoic, and they quietly asked him about the history of his ice ability. Their gaze made it impossible to tell anything but the truth. They told him they didn't know why he did what he did, but his abilities were impressive. They gave him an offer he couldn't refuse, an offer of freedom, in exchange for his service. They gifted him a new name, and led him down a path he should not take, though he went eagerly along it.
**Author's Note:**
> white album just made his hair turn blue for no gotdam reason | bc723d56bda449c58c332c8a29b63e58 | ['4ca35f5707904c38b746dea0d7b52088'] |
More to it
**Author's Note:**
> ok this is full of just. absolute nonsense plot contrivances. but maybe thats part of the spirit of kirby. probably not. anyway writing this made me formulate the hc that kirbys species tends to have strong connections to higher powers and often can communicate w them telepathically (kirby with void and dark matter, meta knight with nightmare, galacta knight with morpho/the butterfly, marx with the sun and moon)
>
> also the pacing is probably terrible.
> so yeah jst go into this with an open mind bc i wrote it with maybe too open a mind
Among the tense winds, thin atmosphere, and starry land of Halfmoon, a small creature is brought into existence from nothing, with no witness or caretakers. The planet is unfazed, and the creature is left alone with its sentience.
It adapts well to the land. It’s all it’s ever known, after all. There’s a sparse plant or two for food, and the creature’s light, rubbery body allows it to float in the updrafts on some parts of the planet (mostly when it’s bored). For years and years, it is alone, and it is fine with it; it doesn’t know of other sentient life. Sometimes it thinks, without words, about what may be elsewhere-- is there an elsewhere? Is there anything more to the universe than Halfmoon, is there anything more to life than surviving and sleeping and kicking up stars?
One of those nights, it sees a gold dot in the sky, and it wishes that it could be there, too, with the dots. It then wanders off to its favorite little sleeping spot and nods off, and when it awakes, there is a strange, bigger than usual star amongst the others on the land. The creature investigates it at a few angles, gives it a sniff, and eventually climbs on. It moves underneath the creature, and disappears into the sky.
The creature cowers into the star, eyes shut tight, until it lands. The star disappears from under it, and the creature opens its eyes slowly.
Around it is a vivid land, full of colors it has never seen. Mostly bright greens and the bright blue sky. It shakes a bit-- this is all so new and unexpected and Not Halfmoon. It sits around for a while, mostly scared but feeling a growing excitement. This is the elsewhere it had wondered about.
Eventually, it gathers the courage to get up and explore, like it did when it was first "born". It glances up at the sky; practically no dots but one very, very big one that shone brightly. There were plants everywhere. Big and small, green and brown and colorful. No stars, though.
The creature eventually comes across a group of others, a few flowers in its mouth still. Little red and cream creatures (more familiar colors, but colors of the ground?) sat around, making weird complex strings of noises. They spot the creature, and its first thought is to run. Their faces reminded it of the Scarfies that would chase it. But it remains.
The other creatures make some complicated noises at it, and it stares blankly, and takes a couple steps back. They pause, and point a small appendage at themselves, and make a string of noises. It doesn't know what these things were doing, and it decides to turn away and run before anything else strange were to happen. It grows tired and finds a nice alcove to nap in, like its old "home", though lacking the stars it collected from the ground.
It wakes up to a poke at its cheek. The creatures from the day prior-- or, just one this time. They offer something to it; it's unsure what it is at first, but it smells like it should eat it, and so it does.
This event reoccurs for days and days and weeks after. The creature starts to learn what the noises mean, and begins to pick up the Dreamlandic language. It learns the other creatures ("Waddle Dees", its main "friend" calling itself "Manny") were confused what it was, but called it "Violet". It also comes to feel like it is comfortable called a "he", as it grasps the language a little better.
He begins to stray from his alcove and explore further, but when he gets back, Manny is panicking, telling him he disappeared for two weeks and he should tell them so they don't get so worried. He pauses, then realizes he feels kind of guilty about it.
He tells Manny the next time, and disappears again. The sky was like Halfmoon's now, but with a little crescent (the "Moon") floating up there, too. He keeps wandering aimlessly, and feels like he hears the Moon.
"Hello, star child."
And so he talks back, as expected for anyone who speaks to him.
"Hey, hey, moon!"
And then the moon is quiet again, until the bright dot (the "Sun") comes back and disappears again. The moon talks to him again.
"So you are alone?"
He shakes his head, and mentions Manny, and the moon speaks more.
"You're alone now."
He pauses and nods. The moon keeps talking to him, until it is time for the sun to come back. He heads home and naps well into the sun's time up. Manny visits, and scoffs when he tells them the moon speaks to him.
He befriends the moon, and the sun begins to speak to him on his walks, too. They even show up when he is asleep, in his dreams. And any time he mentioned it to Manny, they didn’t believe him. Also, he decides a name for himself: Marx. Violet never quite fit.
Years and years pass, and he finds Manny growing older alarmingly quickly, and he finds the sun and moon enjoy his presence a lot. Manny drifts away from him, and he finds that now the sun and moon are his only companions.
Marx starts to wonder more on if there is more to life than this, and life gives him an answer. He feels drawn to a place further in the countryside, in the same way he feels the sun and moon speak to him, and when he arrives, it is daylight, but the moon shines in the sky, too. They ask him a question together.
"You are such an entertaining little star child. Would you like to become the cosmic jester?" Their tone is almost belittling, as if they’re trying to keep from laughing at him, but he agrees joyously, and falls into his role nicely over time, as if it was always meant to end up like that.
And further along the road, as he delights in entertaining the cosmos, he wonders again.
"Is there anything _more?_ " |
ac1807589b144f8abb8a050c0ab7914d | ['4cc445b1c4024c9b8c969ea686b55ec8'] | When the game was over they had been thoroughly defeated by the spawns of Satan. Darcy and Charles were covered in sweat and grime but decided to go back to Darcy’s house to shower, the men’s showers in the locker room were nasty. Gigi however came out of the women’s locker room looking clean and refreshed. “
Awesome shower in there,” she remarked when she took in their still dirty appearance. “Going for the construction worker-look are we?” she teased.
“Going for not attracting tetanus.” Darcy said and shot a mildly disgusted look towards the door to their locker room.
“Not attracting anything else either…” she muttered as they exited the building.
Unbeknownst to Darcy, Gigi had been texting Lizzie during the day and had arranged for her new friend to come pick her up outside the arena instead of leaving with Darcy and Charlie. When they stepped out into the sunshine Lizzie was waiting there, leaning back on her new, but old, Ford F-150 and catching some of the rays shining down.
Darcy saw her right away and stopped in his tracks. He didn’t know how to interact with her. Damn it. Charlie walked right in to his suddenly still frame. Gigi was in front of them and continued unfazed towards the other woman. They hugged when Gigi reached her and then Lizzie saw Darcy and Charles over Gigi’s shoulder. Darcy was wearing sunglasses so she couldn’t read his expression but his mouth was set in the same severe way it always was. Not that she was looking at his mouth. He’d started moving again and he and Charlie had now caught up with Gigi.
“Charlie!” she greeted, “what’s up?”
“Hey Lizzie! Oh, you know, same old same old.” He looked slightly confused, like he’d missed something. “How do you know Gigi?” he asked.
“We work together, I’d have thought you’d know that.” She didn’t mention why she’d thought that, they all knew why.
“No, sometimes these two conveniently forget to tell me things.” He tried to glare at Darcy, but failed miserably.
“You’re not the only one Charles,” Darcy muttered.
“What, don’t tell me you didn’t know they work together, you know everything about Gigi.”
“I did know that, what I didn’t know is that she’d be here, or that they hang out outside of work.”
“Hey, “she” is right here, thank you.” Lizzie didn’t like being talked about when she was there to hear it.
“I am only too painfully aware.” She had to know what it did to him to see her. Was she doing this to him on purpose?
“What is that supposed to mean?” Did he always have to question everything? Just go with it for once in your life!
“Nothing. When did you get a truck? I thought you were just so happy taking the bus everywhere.” Rusty death trap it is too. She really should get something newer, safer.
“Yeah well, I’ve upgraded since I got a job, but not everyone can snap their fingers and own a Jag you know.” Not that it is any of his business what she does with her money.
Darcy turned to his sister who was watching the back and forth bemused, “I assume you’ll be going with her?” He asked.
“Yeah, I’ll see you guys later.” Darcy and Charles started walking towards Darcy’s Jaguar.
“Hey, Charlie!” Lizzie called after them, “you ever talk to John nowadays?”
Charlie threw a quick glance at Darcy and turned back. “Not a whole lot, I think he might be shutting me out. Again. If you see him, tell him…tell him I miss him, alright?”
“Yeah, sure.” She was sick and tired of seeing John getting more depressed and isolated. There’s nothing wrong with keeping to yourself if you’re fine, but John wasn’t fine.
“Soo…I have a confession to make.” Gigi said carefully.
Lizzie and Gigi had been out to lunch and they were currently in line at the very coffee stand where Lizzie had spilt Darcy’s coffee a couple of months earlier.
“Really, what kind of confession?” What could Gigi possibly have to confess to her?
“It’s about a person we have in common.”
“Richard?” A vain hope, but still.
“Ah, no, the other one. My dear brother.”
Lizzie sighed and rolled her eyes. “What about Darcy?” Gigi had every few days tried to sneak in something positive about her brother when Lizzie was within earshot. Lizzie couldn’t be sure, but she felt the faint scent of matchmaking in the air.
“I don’t really care why the two of you are on the outs, truly. I just think you could be so great together. Like, great great. Downright serious relationship material.”
“Never going to happen Gigi. He’s attractive and all I suppose, but I can’t see past everything else. He’s so arrogant, conceited, selfish…”
“You seem awfully busy thinking of ways you don’t like him. All I’m saying is it would be nice. Even if it’s just so you could attend the same events without any animosity. There’s the charity-gala a couple of weeks from now you know. He’ll be at our table, just FYI.” It bothered Gigi that someone thought such bad things about her brother. It bothered her even more that that person is someone she calls friend.
“Why do you even care? Do you try to hook your brother up with everyone you meet or something?” Lizzie wished Gigi would give up this plan she’s hatched. Even if Lizzie liked him, he did not like her. He obviously thought she was incapable of doing basically anything right. He could find flaws in just about anything she does. Don’t think she hadn’t noticed the sneer he gave her truck.
“No, god. He likes you. Otherwise I wouldn’t bother.”
“Did he say that to you?” | a67828baa4704da4985505f2f8bce611 | ['4cc445b1c4024c9b8c969ea686b55ec8'] | “Well I don’t have your cell number so probably, but I also might have hung up on you.”
“I just had this nagging feeling. My sister, she, on the night of her graduation from school, she was attacked by her ex, and I wasn’t there to pick her up. I was too late. And then I come here and see those drunks harass you.” They stood silent for a moment just looking at each other, both breathing quite heavily. Lizzie couldn’t grasp why he was even still in her life, and Darcy was too frustrated to have an argument with her while she was drunk.
Lizzie came to the conclusion that she was too drunk still to have any kind of conversation with him that didn’t involve shouting and blaming him for everything wrong in her life. Him acting like a human with feelings wasn’t something she could handle right now. “I’m sorry about your sister, but I’m not her, and I’m not your responsibility. But…thanks, I guess, for the concern.” She put her palm flat on his chest as sort of a friendly goodbye.
He wanted to kiss her so badly, to show her how much he cared. But she was too drunk to consent, and he didn’t think she would even if she were sober.
“If you will not let me drive you, then you will take a taxi with your friend.” He walked behind her up to the main street and hailed a taxi for them. As the women climbed in the back, he handed the driver one hundred pounds. “Make sure they both get inside safely.”
He remained for a moment while the taxi drove away, wondering if his life could ever go back to normal after having met her.
6. The first day of the rest of your life
Hurrying down the busy London streets, Lizzie kept looking at signs and the slip of paper in her hand. Trying to find the offices of her hopefully future employer was easier said than done. As someone who hardly ever visits this part of the city, she felt like a fish out of water. Also, if she didn’t find her way soon, she would be late for her interview.
Darcy stepped out of the coffee shop across the street from his office building. He stood for a moment in the rare sun, sipping his latte. Suddenly, that latte was on the pavement.
“I am so sorry sir, please forgive me…” Lizzie began apologising to the poor man she had run into and whose coffee she had spilled, until she saw who it was. How is it possible that she would run into him here, on her big day, and when she was lost. She needed help; directions, something, and he could help her.
“Well, as I live and breathe; Elizabeth Bennet, apologising to me. Must be my lucky day.” Seeing her again so soon, only a week or so since he saw her last…it was refreshing. But she looked stressed, or maybe it was just her reaction to seeing him.
Her thoughts were at war. Half of them wanted to turn around and leave, but the other knew that he could help her. “Darcy, I can’t say that it’s good to see you, but I need you to help me.” Get it out, before you back out.
“Anything for you.” He smiled, a rarity, she’d only seen his smile once before.
“I need to find this building.” She showed him the address on the slip of paper. He smiled and nodded.
“You’ve found it.” He pointed across the street. The building she was looking for was right next to his office. He was pretty sure he knew where she was supposed to be.
“Oh thank goodness. I’m about to be late for this interview…” She began talking, but then remembered whom she was with. He didn’t care, and he didn’t need to.
“Go,” he smiled again. “And good luck.” Two smiles in the same conversation must be some kind of record for him. Lizzie ran across the street and entered the building. Darcy hung back for a moment, getting another latte, and then followed her. He hadn’t seen Richard in a while; it felt like the right time to pay a visit to his cousin.
“You can go in now miss,” the assistant looked up at her from her desk, and waved towards a corridor of offices. “The last one.”
“Thanks…” Lizzie had made it just in time for her 10 o’clock appointment, and it was now 10:20. She knew interviews ran on their own schedules, but having had to ask Darcy for help to make it in time had annoyed her, and now it was for no good reason. She would have found the building in another five minutes or so without asking him.
The office she entered was spacious and light, occupied by a smiling blond man with very agreeable manners.
“Good day Miss Bennet, I do apologise for keeping you waiting, it has been quite the morning here.” He smiled and shook her hand, then indicating for her to take a seat on a sofa. He himself occupied the opposite chair.
“I am Richard Fitzwilliam, Senior Partner.” He introduced himself, but they both knew she already knew. He filled her in on details about the position, asked questions about her here and there, but mostly kept it casual. It was the most stress-free interview she had ever had. “As you can imagine there are quite a few candidates for this position…”
“Yes I know, and I am confident I can do this job well. It feels…right.”
Outside the office, Darcy was having a little chat with Richard’s assistant, who indicated the interview was probably almost over. He knew Lizzie wouldn’t want his help, but he also knew that Richard would value his opinion, and if that weren’t enough, Richard wouldn’t have a problem doing him a favour. |
5d069b64994347e4b3e484d861f2f112 | ['4cda4c7a418f4f4aa298c4fb8513fd55'] | He pulls away from Tiny’s chest, and he sees the horrible tear face stain he left on his blue shirt. He frantically tries to wipe his tears away on his forearms, but more keep coming, so fast they’re almost impossible for him to catch.
“I’m so sorry.” He sobs. “I’m sorry. I thought you were gonna hit me.”
“Has someone hit you before?” Boomer's voice is suddenly the quietest Whiskey has ever heard it.
“No, I’ve never told anyone that before.”
“Let’s go somewhere we can talk.” Tiny slings his arm around Whiskey’s shoulder and starts steering him in the direction of the Haus.
The front door is locked, but Whiskey knows that Bitty keeps a spare key under the windowsill. They head into the living room and kick their shoes off. Whiskey sinks deeply into the couch and is joined by his friends on either side. The whole Haus is asleep, and Whiskey wants to keep it that way.
“How long have you known?” Boomer asks after they’ve all been quiet for a long time. Whiskey feels his throat swell again, it takes everything he has to swallow down the fear.
“Since high school. This guy on my team had the most beautiful voice. Anything he said was like gold being spun into words.” Whiskey smiled at the memory of his first crush.
“What happened?” Tiny leaned harder against him as if he was trying to make him feel safer.
“We held hands on the back of the bus on the way to our finals. After we won, I kissed him. He didn’t talk to me for a week afterward, I figured he didn’t want to have to deal with being gay in Wisconsin.”
“Guy sounds like a fucking douche. You’re a catch.”
“Thanks, Boom but he’s not that great actually. He got married a few weeks after graduation. He’s got like three kids now and he’s only like, twenty-one.”
“Sounds like he might be overcompensating.”
“Probably.”
The effect of the alcohol started to take their toll, Whiskey’s eyes felt heavy, besides him he could feel Tiny’s breathing regulate. He lets himself slip into sleep while in the protection of his friends.
The sun bled into the living room and attacked Whiskey, hungover and now blind. He hears footsteps coming down the stairs and attempts to free himself from underneath his enormous friends.
“Team Brunch!” A voice calls, Whiskey groans as his mission to get off the couch was made in vain. Bitty must have heard him because he walks into the living room to find two huge men smother Whiskey on the couch. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Connor?”
Bitty pulls him out, and the force of him dropping to the ground seems to wake Tiny and Boomer. Ransom, as usual, runs down the stairs two at a time, making far too much noise for hungover ears. Ransom’s sprint to the kitchen is cut short when he spots the lacrosse players in the doorway.
“Um.” He looks between the four of them lingering around the couch. “You guys shouldn’t be here. We have a bylaw.”
“Oh lord Ransom, it’s Sunday. Bylaws barely count on Sundays.” Bitty huffs. “C’mon boys, Y'all can stay for some brunch if you’d like. I’m making waffles.”
Boomer and Tiny sheepishly make their way into the kitchen, followed by Ransom who looks quite suspicious.
“Thanks, Bitty, you didn’t have to do that.” Whiskey says.
“Well, the tears stains on the tall one's shirt don’t exactly match up with the height of the big one, so I'm guessing you have a pretty rough night.” Bitty puts his hand on Whiskey’s shoulder. “If you ever need someone to talk to about anything, I’m here. And I’ll probably have pie to sooth some sorrows.”
Bitty ushers him into the kitchen as Tango comes through the front door dressed in his Sunday best.
Whiskey takes a seat beside his friends, and Tango comes into the kitchen holding a box of strawberries.
“These are from Theresa at church.” He says as he sets them on the table. “I told her I was going to team brunch after service and she sends her love. How nice is that?”
“Glad to see you dressed for the occasion.” Whiskey pipes up.
“Ha ha, very funny.” Tango loosens his tie, which makes Whiskey’s stomach flutter. “I’m gonna go change my shirt.”
Boomer nudges him as Tango leaves the room. He leans in close his ear.
“So, Tangredi, eh?”
**Author's Note:**
> come find me at jew-tube.tumblr.com | 7a346245f8f04a10ac75b046287132bb | ['4cda4c7a418f4f4aa298c4fb8513fd55'] | They're skating on the ice in the Falcs arena. Over the past year, they've been spending more and more time here, ever since Will got a job as a trainer on the Falcs payroll. Derek has taken to the arena and has made it the inspiration for his newest novel, a mystery where the murder weapon is a Zamboni. There's lots of late nights, early mornings, tons of games, and his boyfriend turning up with more and more bruises.
("You know trainers don't have to spend as much time on the ice as you do." Derek once said and he rubbed cream on Will's purple shoulder. "They especially don't need to be checked as much as you, either."
"You saying you don't like my bruises, _Nursey_?" Will laughed.
"I'm not saying anything, _Dex_.")
Derek wouldn't change it for the world. He skating circles around Will as he talks to one of the team's rookies. Will is trying desperately to ignore him, trying to give this kid some tips so he doesn't hurt himself. After a few minutes, Will can't ignore his annoying boyfriend and send the rookie to the locker room.
"You are such a menace," Will says and she skates behind, pretending like he can't keep up with his pace.
"Oh no." Derek coos. "You'll have to catch me and punish me."
"You need to stop that right now. We're in public."
"Nah, I told everyone to fuck off earlier." Derek slows to a stop. "Come here." His arms are outstretched to embrace Will.
"I have something for you." Will says as he digs into his jacket pocket.
"Oh really, and what could that be Mr. Poindexter?"
Will removes a letter from his pocket, sealed beautifully with a little wax dollop. Derek knew that Will added that himself, Derek was a self-proclaimed 'slut for formal wax'.
Will opens the letter and clears his throat.
"Dear D. Malik Nurse,
It is our absolute pleasure to announce that you have been awarded the Macavity Award for your novel 'The Red Line'. Please see the enclosed invitation for details to attend the award ceremony at the end of 2026.
Sincerely Yours,
Mystery Readers International."
Derek almost falls off of his skates, Will's steady hand balances him as the news slowly computes in his brain.
"Babe," Will asks looking concerned. "Are you okay?"
Derek leans in and kisses him. "I'm so okay."
In fact, he's so okay that he has completely forgotten about the ring tucked away in his pants pocket. He'll save that for another day.
**Author's Note:**
> hope you enjoyed this! I haven't written much nurseydex but that's because I'm terrified of getting their personalities right. hopefully i did. some say hi at jew-tube.tumblr.com |
748766ecc2f34bfcb0edf0be7da7fde5 | ['4cf1ea4d09f0462ca19b663c473a0175'] | (More of a romantic scene I decided would be more fitting for this encounter, 'Twas a recommendation from ShadowFoxy101 or "Fox" in this instance. I do hope you all enjoyed this first chapter and the next two will be rather smut filled so prepare those cherished memories you have for this will more or less hurt them. - With love, Mike.)
Soft Christmas Teasing:
Me and Fox fell asleep with her wrapped up in a ball and her tail on my chest smiling but nights for Fox can be rather difficult for her to even get tired or fall asleep for that matter, however I am probably the heaviest sleeper in the land. Not even setting me on fire will wake me up as Fox did try once then tried water and after. My mind starts to wander off into somewhat of a wet dream/fantasy.
Suddenly I feel a slight tickle on my clothed manhood, my eyes flutter open ever so slowly and I rub them as I yawn and stretch. Fox's tail was sat in between my legs rubbing over it slowly, I try to keep as calm as I could and not let it distract me but the feeling made me excited. I gulp and murmur "S-She kn-knows how... to excite me.." So then I decide to move her tail off me and quickly get up off the bed then put on my robes.
Swiftly I walk out of the room quietly hoping not to wake her and I successfully do that to some degree, soon enough I manage to make it downstairs without making anyone aware of me, I walk into the living room noticing Christmas decorations already being put up, I say surprised "Oh, Fox.. of course you would put these up. I'm glad I have her"
Meanwhile upstairs back in the bedroom, Fox is sleeping rather silently with small breaths brushing her tail back and forth, however suddenly her eyes shoot open and she falls out of the bed from what seems like a nightmare. Fox picks herself up whilst saying "God fucking damn it.. that's the second time this month!" Her voice was so loud I heard a slight noise upstairs but I was currently relaxing.
Fox somehow almost instantly put on her Dark Gray and Navy Blue robe covering herself before making her way out of the bedroom then stretching and saying "Where the hell is Mike? I swear if he went out to get me a present I'll rip his balls off" Thinking back at what she said she couldn't help but remember their first time which makes her involuntarily rub her right leg against her left at the thought.
The thought disappeared quickly from her as she wonders where her Mikey is.. they needed to talk. Fox makes her way down the creaky stairway hoping Mike wouldn't hear until she reaches the bottom where she sees the living room door opened slightly then she mumbles "Oh, so that's where he is" Fox walks over to the door and pokes her head in shyly to see Mike sat on the sofa sighing and staring at a picture of them both when they first got married. Soon a smile appeared on both of their faces.
"Mikey?" I quickly dart my head over to the door to see Fox "Yeah, Fox?" "What are you doing down here when you could of been upstairs with me?" "I dunno.. just felt like coming down here" Fox comes over to me and sits on my lap and I just giggle to her actions. She then holds my left cheek with her left hand and says "I love that photo of us.." Fox's legs are rubbing against each other that I gulp "F-Fox?" "Yeah, Mikey" "Wh-Why are your legs.. doing that?" I ask shyly then she replies "I-I had that.. dream again.. only it was a daydream.." My eyes widen and I softly blush as does Fox.
Fox feels something on my lap rise up to touch her right leg, she bites her bottom lip then says "What woke him up?" "Pr-Probably you.. sitting here.." Fox just blushes madly but moves around slowly on my lap almost as if to tease me.
I take advantage of the situation and pick her up off of me and lay her down onto the sofa I'm on. "Now, Fox.. teasing isn't nice.." "T-Then.. te-tease me..." "F-Fox! Here?" "Ye-Yes, Mikey... I need you... again" I waste no time in disrobing her only to reveal her wearing a red bra with black straps also the same with her panties along with black boots that have a white fluffy outline at the top. I am astonished at her clothing "F-F-Fox.. what's up with this?" "I-I... wanted to wear... something special... for you on Christmas.." "Y-Y-You were... only going to wear this?" She nods her head shyly then says "Only after the kids went to bed" My eyes widen at her words.
Fox moans softly just of her own accord because she knows it turns me on. "F-Fox" "Pl-Please.. touch me.." I giggle and gently tease her panties by stroking over them and prodding it. All Fox does is sigh in pleasure and lean her head back. My fingers gently play with her womanhood through her panties "This is my present to you, hun" Fox replies with a soft moan.
"Mm.. I wonder if I should tease you more" "N-N-No, Mikey... I-I just want you.. to make love.. with me" "Just a little teasing, OK?" Fox shyly rubs her legs together again as I continue to stroke over her just ever so more pushing her towards the edge and making her want it more which is clearly seen as she writhes in pleasure just from the teasing. | 96004f76aea345f084f70280afaf314d | ['4cf1ea4d09f0462ca19b663c473a0175'] | The wind started to pick up in speed which made snow blow heavier on the couple, but it did not faze them because Fox was an Archedemon and Mike was his own heater. Mike's eyes roam across his wife's new Manticore body which was very delicious looking. Her breasts looked like Double D's and her legs were thick with fur, so much that Fox's thighs rubbed together to hide her panties.
Mike started to feel weird inside and not sexually, generally weird.. something he never felt before was rushing through his veins begging to be let out but he didn't know what it was so he refrained from using it until he knew more. Right now Fox was more embarrassed than ever having this new body, but she felt there was something more.. that's it, she remembers something about their being a scorpion like tail, Fox start mentally pushing herself to find the tail and soon it appears with the tail forming out above the back of her ass then wrapping around her to look at Mike.
The tail somehow had a life of it's own and moved freely, although it's main mouth was open which had razor sharp teeth between them that made Mike back up a little then the tail spoke seductively “It seems like another prey.. come here big boy~” Fox instantly protested neglecting the fact she was shy “That's my husband and he isn't going anywhere near you until you explain what you are and what you want!” Tail replies apologetically “I'm sorry... and I'm Tail, here to milk men's spirit juice so we can grow more and more beautiful”
Fox doesn't know what to say after hearing what Tail said, neither does Mike as a matter of fact.. but as Tail exposed her spikes around the edges of her mouth, the thing in Mike clicked.
Mike soon started transforming as well, the same bright light appeared only Fox had to look at it this time and it was truly blinding, only Fox had become accustomed to this light. Mike changed drastically into a Chimera only without the goat, Mike had a lion's head and body then a snake head at the end of his tail wearing only his boxers to cover his manhood.
Fox glared at Mike's newly found form then knew exactly what he was. She didn't care that he was this.. she only cared that he loved her and that I love him. Mike's tail started to speak seductively as it stared upon the Manticore “My, my.. aren't you in for a treat~” then the Manticore's tail replied “You're in for a better one~” Whilst in Mike and Fox's mind, they had absolutely no clue what was going on, only that Fox was secretly a Manticore and Mike was secretly a Chimera
The couple's eyes wandered over each other, mainly Mike's over Fox's cleavage and her panties which she tried to hide then Fox's over Mike's protected but visible manhood. Both creatures had a strong sexual energy that just had to be fulfilled.
Both creatures walked slowly towards each other then Mike had the first urge of lust wanting to be fulfilled which made him stop, Fox did not stop, she got closer and closer to the point where she then pounced on Mike, leaned down and locked their lips together.
Mike was enjoying having soft and elegant lips on his for a long period of time but his inner desires wanted much more than a kiss. After 5 minutes of long kissing Fox throws away all thoughts of modesty or embarrassment. Then Fox's tail starts coiling around Mike wanting to wrap him before sliding down his body onto his waist then saying lustfully “Can I.. pet the big boy?~” Mike instantly agreed wondering what would happen.
He was soon surprised that tail slid into Mike's boxers and without hesitation used the head of the tail to engulf Mike's entire manhood. Mike moaned softly at the contact and thought to himself “It feels so warm and wet.. like a womanhood does” he was in Valhalla of pleasure as Tail starts pulsing the walls on the inside causing Mike to moan mildly which consisted of “God this feels good, drain me of my juice!” and “Tail, don't stop, suck me like a good girl” which made Fox blush an insane crimson.
Sadly Fox sat there waiting for her Tail to enjoy herself more and more, so during Mike's ecstasy of pleasure, his Tail snaked it's way onto Fox's panties then slides in. Fox felt a small stimuli her panties and could see Mike's tail in there but she didn't complain. Mike's tail starts slowly licking Fox's womanhood earning a soft moan from her each time.
Both Mike and Fox were in ultimate pleasure from their new sides
(Next Chapter: Sex in a public forest?)
“Sex in a public forest”
Fox moaned softly at each lick Mike's tail did to her, however Mike now felt way too close to releasing thanks to Fox's tail, his moans said were laced with lust.
On another note, Mike's tail slid into Fox's womanhood and swirled it's snake tongue around wanting to milk her of her release desperate for it. Fox felt something slithery enter her womanhood then it started to lick and swirl that put Fox in absolute bliss of pleasure, she moaned mildly to meet Mike's.
The pleasure continued for 3 minutes more until Mike couldn't take the constant pleasuring of his manhood so he told Tail “I-I'm... r-r-releasing..” Tail started to milk him faster and rougher until he released at least a gallon of his release inside of Tail, then Tail spoke to Mike “Mmm.. so warm and thick, I might just need your spirit juice alone forever..~” Mike was too overwhelmed with pleasure to hear Tail's words. Meanwhile with Fox |
2dfbc3910c78462f88440bbe6162b47b | ['4d014cca20844501b681db43de9d84e4'] | “He needs to know what’s happened and he might have a better chance of calming Yata down,” Kusanagi explained, pulling a face at the last bit, as he still wasn’t comfortable with placing so much trust on the prickly Blue even if Anna seemed unbothered by it. “Besides he said that he’d visit today, and I don’t want him walking in on this.” There was no way this conversation was going to go well, but at least that way he could hopefully avoid any heated discussions in front of Yata.
“Alright,” Kamamoto nodded in understanding before cautiously moving forward to join the other two, noting how Yata curled closer to Anna at his approach with a pained expression although he didn’t comment on the reaction.
Kusanagi waited until they were settled before moving away to retrieve his cell-phone before heading up the stairs, not wanting the conversation to be overheard…and knowing that someone needed to clean up the rose petals, although he had a feeling that they wouldn’t be able to convince Yata to go back into that room again. _Damn it, what do they even want with him?_ He snarled angrily under his breath as he strode into what had been Mikoto’s room, the sight of the green petals adding fuel to his temper, and for a moment his fingers played with his lighter the temptation to burn it all rising to the surface. It was only when the flame flickered to life that he came back to his senses, and with a sigh, he closed the lighter and slipped it back into his pocket. _I can’t lose my cool now…_ Taking a deep breath, he turned his attention back to his phone, quickly finding Fushimi’s number and dialling it, praying that the Blue would answer and allow him to explain before going off the deep end.
_“Fushimi Speaking…”_
**
Fushimi sighed with exasperation as he found himself once again booted from the JUNGLE network, a gif of the parrot laughing at him filling up the screen for the tenth time that day and he was hard pressed not to lash out at the machine, instead scowling fiercely at it as he fiddled with one of his knives. _There has to be a way in…_ He had combed through every report they had so far, but everything was too vague, especially as whenever they apprehended one of the JUNGLE members their powers were stripped from them, but he refused to believe that the information he needed wasn’t out there somewhere. Mainly because if he did, he would have to admit that he couldn’t do anything to protect Misaki and there was no way he was going to let it come to that.
“No progress Fushimi-kun?” Munakata’s voice rang out, but Fushimi merely tilted his head to glance towards his King having felt his aura approaching, and he smirked slightly as he caught the disappointed expression on the man’s face. However, as the question registered his smirk disappeared, and he sighed slightly before turning his chair so that he was facing the older man.
“No,” He admitted reluctantly, unused to not even being able to produce partial results for his King, and his eyes narrowed as he searched for any hint of disappointment in the blue eyes studying him, but all he could find was calm interest and a hint of concern. “Whoever is in charge of their security is ridiculously good.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth, but he couldn’t deny the truth of them, and it made him even more curious as to what the Green clan had been up to in the years since their last appearance, but again that information was locked behind the network that he could barely touch.
“Better than you?” Munakata asked calmly with an arched eyebrow, and Fushimi huffed in annoyance as he heard the challenge within his King’s words.
“Of course not,” he denied instantly, fighting back a growl at the triumphant expression that flickered across his King’s face at his retort, taking a small breath to calm himself before continuing. “I’ll…” His next words were cut off by his cell beginning to ring, and he pulled it out, eyes narrowing as he recognised the caller i.d. and he glanced up in question.
“Go ahead,” Munakata granted with a nod, moving to the other side of the room to give him at least the illusion of privacy. Fushimi sighed wishing that he could just outright ask him to leave but deciding that the argument wasn’t worth having and instead, he just flipped his phone open.
“Fushimi speaking.”
_“Fushimi it’s Kusanagi, something’s happened can you get here as soon as possible?”_
“What happened?” Fushimi demanded, divided between annoyance at the call and the fact that HOMRA for all their promises had allowed something to happen…and concern as he had never heard the older man sound so openly furious before, the latter growing when there was a pause as though Kusanagi was trying to work out what to say. “Is Misaki okay?” As long as the vanguard was okay, they could deal with anything else that came his way. However, even that brief spark of optimism faded when there was a sharp intake of breath before the older man quietly replied.
_“No…”_
“Tell me…” Fushimi ordered.
_“JUNGLE were here, or at least Mishakuji Yukari,”_ Kusanagi hesitated for a moment as though waiting for an explosion, but Fushimi had gone rigid instead, his eyes cold as he gripped the knife he had been playing with earlier. _I should never have left his side…_ Naively he had allowed himself to hope that being with HOMRA would offer the vanguard greater protection, and he had let his guard down.
“What did they do?” | a15d80b859dc4826a35efe2280102064 | ['4d014cca20844501b681db43de9d84e4'] | _“They gave me a new colour,” he replied carelessly and slowly he raised his hands, and she could only watch with horrified eyes as green sparks danced across his skin, adding an eerie light to his gaze as he refocused on her. “All I have to do is get rid of the red…” There was no hesitation in his eyes as he stepped forward, the green spreading across his body and she backed away as she realised what he meant, feeling her heart shattering even as fresh tears trickled down her cheeks._
_“Misaki, why?”_
Anna jerked awake with a sharp cry just as the green light had been about to engulf her, Misaki’s name on her lips and tears damp on her cheeks, and she glanced around wildly half expecting the vanguard to be there looming over her.
“Anna?” She blinked in surprise as. Instead, she found a worried looking Fushimi crouched beside her, and before either of them knew what was happening she had sprung forward with a sharp cry, wrapping her arms around his neck as she buried her face in his shoulder as she began to sob. She knew that it had been a dream, but it had seemed so real, and she clutched Saru tighter as she tried to force the images out of her mind. She’d thought that she’d completely believed her own words about Misaki’s loyalty after seeing the graphic, so why had she dreamed that he’d turned his back on them…on her? A shudder went through her as the memory of his cold expression flashed through her mind, Misaki had never been able to look at anyone like that let alone her. _Misaki you’re not going to change, right_? Suddenly she wasn’t so sure, and she shivered as she pressed her face further against Fushimi. “Anna, what’s wrong?” Fushimi asked anxiously, shooting a worried look a Kusanagi who’d moved across to them the moment that Anna had woken shouting for Yata.
“Misaki…Misaki…”
“Anna,” Kusanagi said reassuringly when it became clear that she wasn’t ready to give them a clear answer, reaching out to gently rest a hand on her head as he added softly. “It was just a dream...”
“I know…” Anna whispered."But..."
“It doesn’t make it better,” Fushimi finished softly, and Anna finally pulled back enough so that she could peer up at him, stunned by the understanding expression on his face as he met her gaze and she felt his arms tighten around as he added softly. “I’ve had plenty of nightmares since they’ve taken him.” It was painfully clear that he was reluctant to admit such a thing, especially in front of Kusanagi, but she could see the truth in his dark eyes, and somehow it helped to know that she wasn’t the only one reacting like this.
“Misaki came home….” She whispered as she leant against Fushimi once more, although this time she didn’t bury her face even as she carefully avoided their gazes after hearing their sharp intakes of breath, hesitating for a moment as she wondered whether it would be better to stay silent. After all, it had only been a dream. However, Fushimi nudged her gently in a silent prompt for her to continue and sniffling she obeyed the silent command. “B-But he wasn’t our Misaki…he was so cold, and his red was completely gone.”
“What happened?” Kusanagi asked, his voice taut and when she glanced across at him, she could see the same pain that she’d seen in Fushimi’s eyes reflected in his face. _Izumo_. Silently she reached out a hand and grasped the one that was still resting on her head, wrapping her fingers around it even as she met his gaze for a second.
“H-he said that he had to get rid of the red…”
“He attacked you didn’t he?” Fushimi asked softly when he realised that she couldn’t bring herself to continue and with a small sob, she nodded silently in response. _Misaki…_ She had been so certain that something like that could never happen, and yet now she could feel doubt creeping in, and she tightened her hold on both of them. “Then you have nothing to worry about,” Fushimi’s statement drew her attention back to him, and she could find no trace of the pain that had been present only seconds before, just utter certainty as he met her gaze without hesitation.
“Saru…?”
“Misaki could never attack you,” Fushimi pointed out softly, well aware that normally she would have been able to see that for herself, but she was still too close to the memories of the dream to be able to see it. “No matter what else happens; I don’t believe anything could change that.” He just wished that he could say the same thing about everything else. There was so much that could be changed under the right sort of pressure, and his eyes narrowed at the thought that they might not get their Misaki back. _Misaki, I won’t like it if you change…_
“Fushimi’s right,” Kusanagi said softly, and he’d managed to regain his composure when Anna turned to look at him, and a weak smile appeared as she nodded in agreement. _Misaki, I’m sorry_ …she knew that they were right about that, and she closed her eyes as the memory of how he’d flung himself into the path of Yukari’s attack back in the tower to protect her. _I should never have doubted you_. Still, she hadn’t missed the emotions that had passed over Fushimi’s face, and she knew that there was still a lot that could change. A lot that could be taken from her crow. _We have to find him. We have to bring him home before our Misaki disappears…_
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you,” she whispered as she pulled back completely, only to still when Fushimi surprised her further by reaching up and brushing away her tears. |
6c868b0e62334610bef174541ea906cc | ['4d57c35648f4472ab4737673a4f08fcb'] |
1. Chapter 1
13.
The number will have significance for you forever.
_"I don't care. I don't care. Just fuck me, baby. I need you."_ As soon as those 13 words left her lips, you knew that this was different. She was different. What you felt for her was unlike anything you had experienced in your life. Even though you knew she was in heat, you just couldn't say no.
The need in you ignited in a way that scared the holy hell out of you. Her smell was drawing you in. Her unmarked neck -- was both a sense of temptation and fear. Temptation because you could wake up to that smell every day, and all it would take is one real bite and she would be yours. Fear because the topic was never discussed and to mark someone without their consent is frowned upon. There have even been cases that have gone to court over unwanted markings.
But fuck... you wanted too. She was so responsive to you. Her body tightening all around you. Her moans of pleasure making your dick harder and bigger the more you pumped into her. Then you noticed a gesture. It was small but you definitely saw it.
She moved her head so you could presumably claim her. Or at least that's what you think she was doing. She was so far gone it could've been just an involuntary reaction. But the more her body moved in sync with yours, you could feel your will breaking. The Alpha in you wanted her for yourself. You couldn't take the chance that she could wind up with someone else. So having made up your mind you bit down.
The sound she made was indescribable. You wish you could have it on a loop. Her back arched so beautifully. Her nails dug deep into your sides as you started to knot her. It was a surreal moment. She called your name but by that point, you had already come inside of her. The first time you had ever done that to a woman unprotected. You thought once the haze of her heat died down you would regret your decision, but you didn't. She was here, she was yours. She was - crying?
_Shit! What if I was wrong? What if she didn't want to be mated?_ _Fuck, she's gonna hate me!_ You were so afraid that she would push you away, but then she dropped the bombshell of all bombshells.
"Fated mates."
As she said it everything made sense. The need to see her, her smell being a non-stop aphrodisiac, the longing for the weekend to end just so you could see her at work. The way her voice sounded to you, how you found yourself jerking off at the thought of her. Even going so far as to get a chocolate-scented candle to replicate her smell. You jerked off repeatedly to her staff photo in the company directory online. It was like she was made to fuck your life up in the best way possible. And unlike you, she had known since the two of you met. How she managed to stay sane for as long as she did was absolutely amazing.
It wasn't even hard for you to admit that you loved her. Truthfully, you knew since that first kiss at the club. The energy between the two of you was electric. But she still surprised you when she gave you the option of walking away. Like you could ever do that. She was your mate now and if she was pregnant you would take care of your own.
Knowing all these things it was an easy decision to ask her to mate you. And boy did she ever mate you. It was painful as fuck. Her limbs were wrapped around you, her body pressed firmly into yours as she dug her teeth in. Her arousal was swirling around the room, and you easily got swept up in it. Once it was done you felt different. You felt whole. You didn't realize you were empty until she came into your life, but now it was undeniable. You would give this woman the world or whatever she wanted. She had you. Hook, line, and sinker.
* * *
_**ONE MONTH LATER** _
When you found her on the mattress that day there was so much fear in you. Was it your own, or was it hers? You weren't sure, but what was certain was that growl she gave you. It wasn't playful, coy or sexy. It meant only one thing.
Stay the hell back or else.
But she was crying too. Her smell was different and not in a good way. When Alphas are mated to someone the need to protect their mate is increased. After your phone explained that she might be pregnant she curled up even more. Like she didn't want you there.
_T__hat hurt_, you thought to yourself solemnly.
But you couldn't be deterred. So you dropped low, approaching her slowly keeping a small smile on your face. Stopping only a few inches from her. When she leaned in and smelled you her smell changed back.
Then the test said **PREGNANT**. You couldn't contain your happiness. Sure, you would've preferred if this happened later in the relationship, but she made you whole and having a baby with the woman you fell incredibly hard for was more than you could've asked for.
* * *
_**AT THE DOCTOR'S OFFICE** _
Her doctor, Leslie, strolls in with her technician.
"Hi everyone."
"Hello, Doc," the technician says, smiling warmly at Leslie.
"Hello," you both reply back.
"So, what brings you two in here today?" Leslie looks at us knowingly, but still waits for a response. | df4fcb93276044449c7e8fa713925bf4 | ['4d57c35648f4472ab4737673a4f08fcb'] | "Mother fucker!" Makel quickly bounces from wall to wall. He leaps off of one wall and comes down with a sharp punch to the man's face. The man stagger as Makel spins his body around and backhands him in the face. He's completely stunned as Makel holds onto the man's neck. He attempts to wiggle out of Makel's grasp as he asks him.
"Who are you working for?!"
"Fuck you!" He spits in Makel's face. A vicious snarl comes from Makel's throat as he changes his eyes and shows him his fangs.
"Tell me! Or I'll snap your God damn neck!" Makel's grip tightens as the man's heartbeat thunders under his fingertips.
"Okay, okay I work for Mr. Corinthos. Please don't kill me." He lets go of the man who drops faster than a sack of potatoes.
"Thank you." The man croaks while rubbing his neck.
"Why are you thanking me? I didn't say you could leave." His eyes zero in on the crumpled up man.
Before he can move Makel's hands are holding the man arms to his body. His jaw unhinges itself allowing him to bite down on the man's skull. His jaw easily pushing past the skull until he tastes the brain. He takes a final look at the man. While his face is covered the blood pours over his glazed eyes. He throws the body down before getting an even stronger whiff of Alexis' scent and that of another human.
"Oww-" Nichelle falls backwards and hits hard on the ground. She gets up and brushes off her clothes. Trying to take in her unexpected surroundings. It's a long corridor that's well-lit. Nichelle replays the last conversation that she and Alexis had. Remembering that this is more than likely the passageway that Alexis mentioned. She wanders forward hoping to find a room she can hide in. Only a few minutes ago she was sitting peacefully watching the evening news. That was until she heard the very real sounds of gunfire. In her panic she triggered a button which dropped her here. While she was glad that she didn't hear anymore gunshots, she was completely lost and worried for her friend.
Do Vampires get hurt if they are shot? Do head shots work? What if Alexis was dead and she was left to die in this corridor with no one to collect her bones?! Okay, maybe she was being a tad bit dramatic but let's be honest. Those are all very legitimate questions. She gets close to the end of the corridor as a loud -POP- sounds off behind her. Nichelle freezes in her tracks. Instinctively putting her hands up. A masked man walks straight to her and promptly grabs her by the arm pinning her against the wall. Tears spring from her eyes as she tries to remain calm and not struggle.
"Where are they!?" Nichelle doesn't respond as his grip is getting tighter. She's terrified at the idea of her arm being snapped before suddenly her arm is released. She cradles her arm gingerly as a cold hand spins her gently around. Alexis quickly scans Nichelle's body before asking "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I'll be all right." Nichelle grimaces as she rubs her shoulder.
"Okay, listen I gotta put you somewhere safe but at the moment it's kinda hectic-." Alexis says in a rushed breath.
"Yeah, I noticed." Nichelle cuts in harsher than she had intended.
"So you stick by my side okay? There can't be much men left. I killed about 15 of them." Nichelle stares at Alexis dumbfounded until she pushes her against the wall. Nichelle only saw a blur but she assumed that Alexis threw something.
"Damn Alexis. Hold up it's me." A disembodied voice calls out.
"Oh shit, sorry baby." Makel comes into focus and Nichelle can see the blood over his white tank top and drying blood on his mouth. Nichelle tries to stay calm at the sight of the blood smears. Makel hands the now visible knife back to Alexis.
"Where's Orion?" Alexis grabs Nichelle's hand tightly and pulls her close beside her.
"He's outside. Come on, hurry we don't got much time." We run down the hallway and finally wind up outside.
Orion had managed to track Mr. Corinthos' main boy. Johnny was actually holding his own. The two men were on the front lawn fighting. Orion was pleasantly surprised. He had to admit that even though he was toying with him Johnny managed to keep it interesting. Johnny throws punches towards Orion. His gun had since run out of bullets. Just to get an idea of how much strength Johnny had Orion allowed the punches to connect. Davian flies in from the East side of the mansion. He tosses Orion his sword. Orion can feel the connection between him and the weapon as he swirls the sword around; and with his back turned he stabs Johnny who tries to rush up behind Orion. Orion who is known for being dramatic sets his blade on fire and watches Johnny burn from the stomach before he becomes completely engulfed in flames. He pulls his sword out of him as he screams in pain. Until there is no more sound coming from him. Orion takes notice of Nichelle and Makel for a split second, before the sound of a car engine breaks the silence.
"Hey where you going?" Alexis harshly whispers in Corthinos's ear. Her Desert Eagle pointed directly to the back of his head. She moves herself towards the side so he can see her the rearview mirror. She rests her head on the back of the car seat.
"Now be a good boy and stop the car." He eases off the gas as Davian pops up in the front seat. |
c88867e7bcdc4491aaa3c5fea2cdf318 | ['4d7c3ac6ea7b422bb39aee2ff58e9905'] |
Source Code of Our Hearts
**Author's Note:**
> Posted on my Overwatch writing tumblr, LINK. If you like my writing, leave a kudos or a comment, and if you want to see more Overwatch-related things head on to the blog! Any support goes a long way.
>
> Hi this is my first post on here! Not my first fic, but moving and editing the document took longer than it should've fhsjkdf
>
> EDIT (6/1/18): Fixed up some typos and changed rating.
It would be an understatement to say that Sombra was great at what she does. She didn’t devote herself to hacking for nothing. The hacker built reputation from the ground up, and her work does not go unnoticed. Sombra made sure that she was the best of the best, and whenever someone attempted to challenge her, she was quick to put them down.
So when an anonymous message in a hack into her own system came, Sombra wasted no time to decode it.
Her sugar skull logo and purple screens were replaced with a different motif and screens of another color once the message was decrypted. In the middle of the hologram was a single application, and at the touch of it the hacker was immediately met with more malware and viruses. They weren’t hard to take down, but they were becoming a nuisance with how many came up.
With the final virus taken cared off, the screen is cleared.
_[ UNKNOWN IS CALLING ]_
_> ACCEPT / DECLINE _
Sombra accepted the call without delay as she rested her chin on her palm. Call it reckless, but at this point she wanted it over with.
The Talon operative took the day off just for this (taking days off at Talon were _hell_ to ask for), and even then it was already late at night due to minor errands. She hoped that going through this trouble for one person would be worth it.
A white mask came up. The sudden flash of white blinded her.
“Yo,” you greeted, mirroring her posture but with a smug enthusiasm in contrast to her annoyance.
“I hope the DDoS attacks and Trojans weren’t too hard.”
The room was pitch black behind you. Faint computer system sounds and audios buzzed from your side of the call. A dim lightsource was set to the side with an angle to create a sort of dramatic look.
Maybe you had set it up to leave an impression, and she couldn’t help but snort at the thought.
“They were _annoying_ ,” she replied.
“So, thanks.”
“ _El placer es mío._ ”
She raised a brow.
“How did you find that pathway in my system?” she asked straightaway.
“What about it?”
“Others would usually send through proxy servers, maybe a waterhole attack or two, but you went through the trouble of source routing your code packet to mirror that of Talon’s—decent routing, by the way—which, by extension, means you tampered with Talon encryptions, a couple of government ICMPs, and my firewall.”
You hummed in thought, “You wouldn’t of opened my message if I had sent it normally.”
_That’s true,_ she thought to herself.
“And, well… I’m not like the others.”
“Oh?”
Sombra waited for you to elaborate, but you only gave her silence, as if that would give her all the answers.
For a moment, she saw herself in you—someone with many tricks up their sleeve. Your aura was that of strong mischief; in conversations, maybe you would subtle secrets in cheeky banter for others to decipher, or you would easily manipulate others into getting what you want, things that she would do. If the both of you had met any other way, maybe Sombra wouldn’t mind getting a drink or two with you.
But you challenged her at her own game, and she was going to make sure that you played it.
“Well, it was a nice minute of getting to know you but,” Sombra started, bringing up her hand to show a screen with a red skull.
“If you don’t have business with me, I’ll just go and—”
You put your hand up. Sombra saw lines of interconnecting cybernetics on your fingers, like hers. Before she could say anything, hologram pads in your color appeared by the flick of your palm, and you typed with inhuman speed.
_BEEEEEP!_
The lock down system she brought up to use on you disappeared.
“I _do_ have business with you,” you said, putting down your hand as you went to look at something else, probably another screen.
“Besides, how can you shut down my system if you can’t get to yours?”
You missed the bewildered expression of the other hacker as she tried to bring up her other systems, which all ended with an error sound and a lock with your logo. Even with an attempted override, the only things that came up on her screen was the same logo that glowed in your obnoxious color.
She had been hacked.
Sombra narrowed her eyes as you turned back to her.
“I suggest updating your software, amiga, it’s a little outdated,” you said bringing up one screen. It listed all her programs and systems, and beside each name on the list was “HACKED”.
“What do you want?” she growled.
“Information. Everything you have.”
She put up her middle finger, and you did the same.
“What makes you think I’m just gonna give it to you?” Sombra asked.
“It’s recommended that you do,” you answered.
“You want this now, hm?”
You gestured to the list, and Sombra watched as the “HACKED” labels on the list changed into loading bars. Another screen appeared across the list.
_[ PREPARATIONS COMPLETE. ]_
_[ SYSTEM EXTRACTION AT 21.5402%. ]_
_[ SYSTEM WILL IMMEDIATELY SHUTDOWN AT 100%. ]_
“ _¡Mierda!_ ” Sombra yelled, bringing up multiple screens around her and working fast to stop what you were doing. | 2442a8aa67df42618f43e40fe6296347 | ['4d7c3ac6ea7b422bb39aee2ff58e9905'] | Footsteps came from multiple directions. McCree’s first guess was that ten men would come out, but after the thirteenth one he was weighing his options as how to go about the situation. Twenty men trapped the both you in a circle. They all stood fifteen feet away from you, and all were armed with a weapon. More than half had their guns at you, but that did little to lessen McCree’s nerves. Peacekeeper only had seven bullets, and even with a quick reload to take out fourteen, their bullets would be shot before he knew it.
“What’re ya gonna do, sheriff?” Danford called from the other side.
You hissed, and McCree had to do a double-take to make sure you actually did that.
“What did you do to the people?”
The gang leader laughed before snapping his fingers.
From his left, two gang members walked out carrying a limp body. McCree watched as you stiffened at the sight: an officer whose face was beaten in, blue, and bleeding. He was alive, but if kept in his current state it didn’t take a genius to know that he wouldn’t last long. You were shaking in rage, and McCree had to take hold of your wrist to keep you grounded.
“This lil’ guy,” Danford gestured, propping the officer’s chin up with the end of his gun. At the sight of discomfort, McCree tightened his grip as you pulled.
“He called you, yeah? Well, we didn’t like that, so we taught ‘im a lesson. And honestly? You gotta get better men! They’re all cozy over by the back of the saloon.”
“Put the gun down!” you yelled.
You lunged forward, but one of the gang members quickly stepped forward and harshly pushed a gun into your temple. You stood still with the barrel pointed straight at you, but no effort was made to move back. McCree gritted his teeth as he pulled you beside him, wrapping an arm by your waist to keep you from at bay... for now.
“How sweet,” the gang member who had pointed the gun at you smiled mockingly.
“Is the outlaw your boyfriend now? How would that look on your reputation, sheriff?”
McCree couldn’t see your expression.
Danford pushed the gun further into the chin of your officer, and at the sight of more pain you struggled under McCree’s grip. He held unto you tighter, not wanting you to get a bullet or twenty into either of you.
“I swear to the _all_ the gods, Jesse,” you murmured just enough from him to hear, “release me.”
“No can do, sheriff,” he replied.
“Bad things come out of people without a plan.”
A face came to McCree’s mind, but the memory was suppressed.
His words were enough to calm you down as your posture slackened. McCree released his hold as you stood straight, looking down at Rattlesnake. Danford barked an order from afar, and all the guns around you were loaded. McCree felt a light jab at his side, and he moved to stay back-to-back with you. You held the brim of your hat before taking it off it completely, a clear sign that you meant business. Before McCree could ask, you pushed your hat into his free hand.
“I didn’t want to use this,” you sighed, grip tightening on your revolver. McCree could feel heat building up from the side where you held your gun.
“At my call, I need you to get down.”
The tone in your voice was similar to when you had threatened him earlier that day, but the malice in your voice was not directed to him. McCree knew that you couldn’t see his nod, but the sentiment was taken as he heard the familiar click of a gun.
“Now!”
_BANG!_
Silence followed
Your ejector rod clicked the cylinder out, making multiple shell casings hit the ground. McCree peered up to notice a dust cloud clear around him, and he realized that you had done a full 360 turn based on the skids on the dirt. He clutched your hat closer to his chest, and the gunslinger looked beside him to count almost twenty-four empty casings on a pile, not believing that you had shot and loaded quadruple the amount of bullets in your gun.
_What in tarnation—_
“Argh!”
McCree looked up to see each gang member drop one by one, each clutching to one of their sides. He looked up at you just as you blew the smoke from your gun, and when you looked down at him to give him a small smirk.
“What? Did’ya think that only guys like you had all the flashy shit?”
Once all the bodies hit the ground, McCree handed you your hat as you pulled him up. The leader was quaking. The two gang members who had brought in your officer had fled the scene, leaving Danford to hold up the unconscious man by the scruff of his uniform. He was shaking so much McCree was convinced he’d turn himself in, but when the gun is pointed to the head of the unconscious man, McCree just knew the guy was stubborn.
“Now, y’know I don’t like repeatin’ myself,” you spoke you walked forward. McCree’s gun was pointed straight at the man.
You and McCree backed Danford up to the fence, the wood creaking by the pressure of the man who tried to find an escape route. The cliff was steep slope that curved into a desert meadow with high grasses and rocks. Most gang members would take the opportunity to get down the hill with the assured safety of the grass, but it was obvious that Danford didn’t have the physicality to do so.
“STAY BACK!” Danford yelled, pushing the tip of the gun into a wound, making the officer wince.
McCree sucked in a breath.
“Come on now, Sherrock, no need to get all riled up.”
You and the gang leader looked at him incredulously.
_“What?”_ you seethed. |
0c0f909a16d8488ead71414f64f50d18 | ['4d8aca19cd224b6d96043037b1dac460'] | After Namjoon had gotten off the phone, Taehyung had started to sob uncontrollably. He had collapsed onto the ground, aimlessly calling out Jungkook’s name. Namjoon had crouched down next to the younger and had taken him into an embrace. He tried to calm him down, shushing him and patting his back while he himself cried silently. They stayed in that position until the police arrived. A police man had escorted them to the police car and made sure they were okay, staying by the police car. Taehyung was sitting inside of the car but his feet were outside on the ground and Namjoon sat crouched down at his feet, his hands resting on Taehyung’s knees.
Taehyung’s sobbing had reduced to a quiet sniffling when the other members and their manager arrived. They all rushed to Namjoon and Taehyung.
"Oh my God, guys are you okay? What happened?" Seokjin asked, panick laced in his voice.
Taehyung didn't respond and only curled in on himself, putting his feet into the car too. Pretty defeated, Namjoon stood up though he needed a minute to get over his dizziness.
"Jungkook's gone, there was blood... but he wasn't there anymore.." Namjoon struggled to hold back the new tears that were forming in his eyes.
Yoongi mustered up the courage to ask, "He's not- he's not dead right?". He too, seemed to be tearing up.
"We don't know. He's just disappeared. But the police said they've send out a search party." Namjoon did his best to explain everything to him but it was very hard on him. Everyone could see that the situation was critical because Namjoon couldn't keep his cool. Seokjin, with his natural ability to comfort people, took the crying leader in his arms and softly patted his back. "It's going to be okay, dont cry. There's nothing to be sad about, he's going to be okay." Seokjin sounded convinced to everyone but himself.
The manager discussed formal affairs with the police officer that was leading the case while the others waited by their own car. Hoseok had picked up Taehyung and put him in the backseat.
After the police officers asked them a few questions about what they could know about Jungkook, they took off to the hospital where Jimin was still staying. The latter didnt know anything yet.
On arrival Jimin seemed to be in a better mood and everyone was hesitant to take him out of it again. It had been a long time since Jimin had smiled upon seeing them. But it was no less than fare to tell him the truth about what happened. In fact, Namjoon was about to break the news to him until Taehyung came running out of the door opening and nearly jumped on the bed, into his best friend's embrace.
"Woah Tae what's up?" Jimin asked unknowingly and surprised by the cuddle attack, he hadn't even noticed the other's tears. And then Taehyung started sobbing and Jimin looked at the others, panicked, looking for answers.
"Jungkook's missing, they found his camera by the Han river and... blood." Yoongi said.
As shocked as Jimin felt by the news, he couldn't help but stay strong and comfort Taehyung. He was glad that he had cleared everything out with Jungkook before he disappeared, although it didn't make the situation any better.
"So, I mean, what is the plan?"
"The police has sent out a search party but they told me that after 24 hours the chances of finding him are little." Their manager said as he had just walked in. "Hey, Jimin, how are you doing?"
"Hello, I'm fine, you don't have to worry about me. I think we now have to focus on finding Jungkook and on this little bean." Jimin said while patting Taehyung's back who was now sniffling in his arms.
With the mention of his name, Taehyung buried his head in Jimin's chest. Jimin adjusted his hold on him so he could keep him as close as possible.
As the evening came - their manager, Namjoon and Yoongi already gone - the rest of them decided to go home too.
Despite of all the effort, Taehyung denied to leave Jimin's side. Eventually he was allowed to stay, even though the nurses weren't at all happy with it.
The night went by and there was still no news from Jungkook. The press was already up to date and kept bothering the company about it. But the truth is that they didn't even know anything.
The police visited came to the company to explain the situation to the managers.
They kept searching for him, the whole country was searching but they simply didn't have any lead or trace.
Days went by and the investigation had not progressed. BTS decided to stop their activities until Jungkook was back.
But even after weeks there was stille no news.
It was evening, a little after a month after Jungkook dissapeared. Taehyung was sitting on the couch in their shared living room. Outside, the leaves had begun to fall off the trees. A big part of the ground was covered in goldenbrown leaves. The landscape was breathtaking yet Taehyung was staring at a black tv screen. He was in deep thought, thinking about his future... without Jungkook.
And then he was tearing up again. Tears started falling down his face. He burried his face further into the blanket with his knees pulled up to his chest. Sniffles eventually turned into loud sobbing. Before he knew it he felt a hand on his back and then the same person pulling him into and embrace. Although it brought the younger a great deal of comfort, his heart still felt empty. Taehyung put his head in the crook of Seokjin's neck, breathing in his sent, and circled his arms around the other's waist, continuing to cry his heart out.
21. t w e n t y - one
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Yeah that's right, a double update :) | c16dd24b50c44e1c81a7104926d433b1 | ['4d8aca19cd224b6d96043037b1dac460'] | **[Kim Taehyung's Logbook on the disappearance of Jeon Jungkook]**
Thursday, 9 Mai 2019 - 10:02 a.m.
It's been 2 months since Jungkook disappeared. The police said that the chances of finding him had decreased to being almost non existent after 24 hours. But I want, no, I need to find him.
He is the man that I love and I won't give up on him. I will not stop until we find him, dead or alive.
The reason I'm only doing this after a month is because I was distraught in the beginning and I trusted the police would do its work. After that I trusted a private investigator. But after the latter vanished, I decided to take matters into my own hands.
I love my Jungkookie so much...
I'm crying again. God, I'm so tired of crying. I want to stay strong for him, keep my head in the game. But it is so difficult to even breathe without knowing if he's still living. Who knows what happened to him? He could be in a box at the bottom of the ocean or be sold as a sex slave. I know these scenarios are extreme but that doesn't make them impossible.
Until this day, the only information that I have on his case came from the private investigator. They found more of Jungkook's blood further away from the river, it gave me hope that he is alive and just locked up in someone's basement even though that isn't ideal, he would still be alive.
Oh, and BTS disbanded. I know it hurt a lot of people But it isn't my priority right now.
I currently live in a small detached house with Jimin. We take care of each other and it works. He cooks and worries about me, and I bath him and help him with his exercises the doctor gave him. I also bring him to his appointments.
Jimin has been searching for a job. He thinks a lot about our future and wants us to have enough money at all time. I think he forgot we are currently still millionaires. And I think we can survive at least a decade with this money. But he has set his mind on finding a job although I don't like it at all. He's in a wheelchair and I would never forgive myself if something were to happen to him. He is still my best friend and I love him a lot too. The first two weeks that Jungkook wasn't there, I could always sleep next to Jimin. And he would cuddle me so tightly until I fell asleep.
Thinking back on it, it may have been selfish of me to bother Jimin like that when he himself was physically and mentally ill. But I think that caring for me keeps him busy And distracted. It's the other way around too but lately we haven't really conversed like in the beginning. I'm starting to isolate myself in order for me to work on Jungkook's case.
But today I'm going to spend some time with Jimin because I think we both need it. He can always help and understand me in a way no one ever could, not even the psychologist I don't go to anymore.
Of course, Jungkook always understood me the best. I miss him.
**[Log 1, 10:44 a.m.]**
***
Taehyung finished writing his very first log regarding his investigation. He rubbed his crummy eyes with his fists and decided to take a long steaming shower. As he went to the living room to get some coffee for breakfast he could see Jimin sitting in front of the television watching a series he likes a lot called 'Supernatural'.
"Goodmorning Jiminie, how are you doing?"
Taehyung sat down on the sofa next to Jimin after giving him a kiss on his forehead. He smoothed Jimin's hair over a bit while trying to not spill his coffee. He snickered at the elder's appearance.
"Oh hey Tae, you have to look at this!"
"What do you mean?"
"Sam lost his soul and instead of looking for his brother - Who by the way got abducted by aliens - he hooked up with some random chick!"
Taehyung gasped "That bastard!"
"I know!" Jimin exclaimed, unable to peel his gaze away from the screen.
Taehyung chuckled lightly and kept sipping his coffee while switching his stare between the tv screen and Jimin. Eventually he gave in and watched until the end of the episode.
When he looked at the clock it was 11:30 which seemed like a good time to take a shower.
"Okay Jimin, here's the deal." Jimin looked at him, confirming he has his full attention. "We are going to clean up and go out on a walk and get ice cream!"
"Ice cream isn't healthy but I guess it's time you get some calories in that body of yours. And that sounds really nice." Jimin smiled at him, keeping his stare on him for a little while longer, truly appreciating his friend.
"Come on, get naked. It's time for your bath." Taehyung joked, earning a slap on his arm in return and a shy but stern 'hey' as a warning.
Taehyung gripped the wheelchair and guided Jimin towards the bathroom. With his shirt off, Jimin gripped the sides of the wheelchair and lifted his body a little bit. Still shy about his own body and letting Taehyung see it naked from up close, he turned his head away as the other slid off his pajama-bottoms.
Conversations fell silent and they got into their normal routine. Once the bath was filled with warm water and bubbles, Taehyung lifted Jimin bridal style and put him in the soothing water.
Knowing the bubbles covered his body almost completely, Jimin relaxed and lay back for a short while.
"Sit up I'm going to wash your hair." Taehyung announced, the bottle of shampoo already in his hands, to Jimin's dislike. |
41cb6f090d4f487e854cd7b38bb32e2b | ['4da6276c45db4186a45dab3d154bbcd7'] | He was almost asleep when he heard a thump and a surprised cry coming from the direction of Buffy’s room. Ripper was awake immediately. He listened carefully, wondering if the teenager had just tripped over something on her way to the bathroom. But then there was another thump and another cry, and Ripper was on his feet and running for Buffy’s room.
When he got there, he could hear Buffy crying, pleading with someone, and without thinking he burst through the door.
* * *
The man in the middle of Buffy’s room blinked at Ripper, and then smirked coldly. Something about the dark-haired stranger set Ripper’s teeth on edge, and not just because he’d broken into a seventeen year old girl’s bedroom.
“Well well,” he sneered, swinging his gaze back to Buffy with a leer, “looks like someone has a thing for older men.”
“Oi,” Ripper retaliated instinctively. “I’m not that bloody old.”
Buffy sniffled, but she still glared up at the dark-haired man. “Get out, Angel.” Ripper saw her gaze flit, briefly to a wooden trunk near the door.
As Angel continued to leer at Buffy, Ripper slid closer to the trunk.
“I’m wounded, Buffy,” Angel said in a tone that suggested he was anything but. “Is that any way to speak to your one true love?”
“You’re not him,” Buffy retaliated angrily. “You’re just a demon wearing his face.”
Angel laughed at that, shaking his head as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather pants. “Oh, Buffy. There’s been a demon wearing this face longer than you’ve been alive.” He stepped closer to her then, leaning in close. “Don’t tell me you thought I was a good guy?”
He laughed again, and Ripper froze with one hand on the trunk. He could see Buffy trembling, but she was standing her ground. Quickly, he flipped open the trunk, and found it full of weapons. Grabbing a stake, Ripper tossed it to Buffy. She caught it and glared up at Angel.
“I should stake you where you stand,” Buffy told him lowly.
Angel responded by arching an eyebrow at her. “Do you want to do this with my true face-” He vamped out. “- Or the face you fell in love with?” His face went back to normal and he smiled smugly at Buffy in a way that made Ripper’s skin crawl.
“Which face did you kill my parents with?” she fired back, arching her own eyebrow.
There was a smirk on the vampire’s face then. “The same face you saw when we made love.”
Ripper felt sick at those words. He’d known that the Council had had some issues with Buffy, but sleeping with a vampire? His mind flitted back to earlier that night, when Buffy had admitted the reason she was Watcher-less.
_“Merrick killed himself because there was this... There was a vampire, who wanted to hurt me. Like, really hurt me. And he knew that the best way to hurt me was to go after those closest to me.”_
She’d let a vampire into her home, her heart, and her bed. Something itched at the back of Ripper’s brain, a long-forgotten memory of something he’d read as a boy. Angelus- the one with the angelic face. There’d been rumours something had happened to him which had caused him to flee Europe for North America roughly a hundred years ago, but no Watcher had ever discovered what it had been.
“Oh, look at him,” Angel laughed, tearing Ripper from his thoughts. The vampire was smirking at him in a way Ripper really didn’t like.
Slowly, Ripper crouched down to retrieve a cross from Buffy’s weapons chest. Wouldn’t hurt to be prepared, after all.
“Poor new Watcher, hasn’t been clued in on us, has he?” Angel continued, taking a step towards Ripper only to be stopped by Buffy intervening and pressing the stake warningly against his chest. “Bit younger than your previous one,” the vampire continued to the slayer conversationally. “I wonder if he tastes better than Merrick did.”
“You never tasted Merrick,” Buffy snapped back, but her voice wavered.
The vampire smirked down at her. “Not while he was alive, no. But all that lovely warm blood was just going to waste, spilling all over the sidewalk. Somebody had to clean it up.” He leered, and Buffy paled.
“Buffy, get behind me,” Ripper instructed as he stepped forward, cross clenched in his outstretched hand.
“I’m fine,” Buffy responded, eyes not leaving Angel’s.
Ripper clenched his jaw. “I’m sure you are,” he ground out, “but just get behind me anyway.”
“Why?” Buffy asked, brow furrowing while Angel watched the unfolding argument with glee. “I know what I’m doing. More than you do, anyway.”
By now, Ripper was side by side with Buffy, and he tried to push her behind him but she stood her ground.
“Are you stupid?” he snapped at her, ducking down so they were eye to eye. “I said get behind me.”
“Thought you said you didn’t want to be my Watcher,” Buffy reminded him petulantly, finally tearing her gaze from Angel. “So what makes you think you can give me orders?”
Ripper rolled his eyes and growled at that remark. “Oh, bloody hell, I’m trying to save you, alright?”
Angel smirked. “Go on Buffy,” he goaded. “Let him be your knight in shining armour. You can repay him later.” He completed the statement with a waggle of his eyebrows, leaving no mistake about what he’d been hinting about when talking about repayment.
Buffy glowered at the vampire. “I don’t need a knight in shining armour. I can look after myself.”
“Shame,” Angel said with a shrug. “Bet your new friend was looking forward to you rewarding him.” He turned his attention to Ripper. “She could do with a little practice, but I broke her in for you.” | 7b644453a1af46c1b6ce107e8b59cb8c | ['4da6276c45db4186a45dab3d154bbcd7'] | There was a heavy silence then, Ripper standing awkwardly in the middle of the room not really knowing what to do. Then Buffy let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, and before he’d processed it, he was beside her pulling her in for a hug.
“I don’t know what to do,” she sobbed, leaning into Ripper’s embrace.
“Neither do I,” Ripper admitted.
Buffy sniffed. “I want to get away from LA. I don’t want to be here. And there must be other places that need a Slayer, right? Merrick used to talk about these Hellmouths. Maybe we could track them down?”
“We?” Ripper echoed, a little confused.
Buffy blushed and pulled out of the embrace. “Yeah. I mean, if you wanted to come with.”
“I’ve never trained for this, I’m not a Watcher,” Ripper cautioned warily. “It’s the reason I’m here in the first bloody place- I never wanted to be a Watcher!”
Buffy shrugged. “Then don’t be. We’ll come up with something else for you to be. I don’t care. I still trust you. More than I trust someone Travers would send me, anyway.”
Ripper sighed. If it were to get back to Travers, or his parents, that he was aiding the Slayer, he’d be in a lot of trouble. But he could also see that Buffy didn’t need a Watcher to order her around and make demands of her; she needed a friend, possibly even an older brother figure. She needed someone who could help her out but also treat her like an equal. No Watcher would ever do that.
“I’ve got some money,” he said at last, “but it’s not going to last long. I can’t access my bank accounts without alerting Travers or my parents to where I am. The last thing I want is to let the bloody Council know what we’re up to.”
“It’s fine,” Buffy shrugged, “I’ve got a bit saved up from working at the diner. How near to the closest Hellmouth do you think we’ll get before we run out of cash?”
Ripper tilted his head to one side. “Depends where the nearest Hellmouth is,” he pointed out with a smirk. “Though I heard there was one here in California.”
Buffy grinned. “Then what are we waiting for?” |
6ad1d38ea4404e16851070418a9c8736 | ['4daaf3824b3e41d4abbb3952e03a663a'] | Simmons can feel the dirt on his hands, see it as he turns them over. Dirt on his hands means dirt on his pants. Dirt on his pants means— oh god. He lurches up, getting to his feet faster than he ever thought he could move.
“Dude,” Simmons is vaguely aware that Dexter is calling out for him, moving to stand, reaching out for him.
He rushes to the door, the only thought on his mind is get to the bathroom, and scrub this stain out of his fucking pants.
The handle doesn’t budge, no matter how much Simmons jiggles and shoves, the door doesn’t open. He lets out a harsh breath hitting the handle, stinging his hand.
“-de, Dude!” there’s a hand on his shoulder, “Hey nerd–“
“Don’t—“ he spins in his heel grabbing onto Dexters hands, “dont call me that, fatass.”
The boy splutters, “wh- wha- i- I am not fat!”
“Look, i- i have to get out, right now, my dad-,” he swallows, “my dad is probably wondering where I am.” he takes in a large breath, finding his eyes stuck on dexters, and he when he goes to exhale, he can’t. he can feel his eyes starting to water.
‘fucking pansy, i’d be better off with a girl for a son.’
he closes his eyes, finally managing breathe out, although it’s more of a sob than anything. He hates the sound of it. in front of him he can hear a soft chant of whispered ‘okay, okay ,okay, okay, okay’.
Then there’s silence and Simmons readies himself for the worst. an insult, a punch, screams.
“Hey,” a hand grasps his upper arm, “It’s okay, calm down..” there’s a light pull near his shoulder, the fabric of his blazer unfolding, “..Richard, you’re okay.”
Dick shakes his head and croaks out, “Simmons.”
Another hand clasps on his other arm, “What?”
it’s oddly gently and simmons finds himself opening his eyes again. They meet a warm brown, the middle black a little bigger in circumference, the light in the closet being much dimmer than in the main room. There also full of worry and concern and— “Call me Simmons.”
Suddenly there’s a full blast smile in his face, “Okay, Simmons.”
Simmons finds himself smiling back, reaching a hand up to wipe at his cheek, Dexter drops his hands from the redhead, “Than-“
“-But!” Dexter watches as Simmons face falls and hurries to continue, “You have to call me grif.” the smiles back and Grif can’t keep his own smile from growing even bigger, “Dexter sounds far too Hawaiian.”
“You’re from Hawaii?”
Grif nods in a lazy enthusiasm, “Yeah! I moved here about a month ago though.” there’s a slight fall in his voice, Grif obviously loved Hawaii. Simmons can’t help but wonder why he moved here, cold and rainy Seattle.
so, he asks, “Why did you move?”
Grifs face goes panicked for a moment, then his eyebrows furrow, “My mom’s business,” his hands comes to swipe back the too short hairs falling from his hair-tie, “better opportunities.”
The taller boy drops the subject, despite his uncertainties on the matter, and grif looks physically relieved.
There’s a moment where they just look at each other, scanning each other’s slightly panic ridden faces. Simmons has definitely calmed down, but the more milliseconds that pass by, the more nerves that return.
“Hey,” Simmons jumps at the voice, his eyes finally falling from the hawaiians, “Lemme see your phone.” Grif makes a grabby gesture.
Simmons frowns, shaking his head, “What, no, im not giving you my phone.” His father would kill him if he ‘lost’ another one.
“I just need to text my sister.” and yeah right, like Simmons hasn’t heard that one before.
“Just use your own.”
“I forgot mine, it’s probably somewhere near all the fancy food.” and again, heard it.
Simmons doesn’t know whether its the look on his face, or Grifs great common sense that just knew he was planning on shutting him down again. Just as he goes to speak, the boy cuts him off, “Look, you wanna get out don’t you?”
The question makes him clamp his mouth shut, the insult on the tip of his tongue swallowed, ready to listen. He nods hesitantly.
“I’m just gonna text my sister to unlock the door, not look at your weird nerd porn or anything.” At that he blushes, stumbling to pull out his phone, because despite the comment, it’s a smart idea.
He unlocks it and hands it to Grif, who takes it wordlessly and starts punching in numbers, and then letters.
Surprisingly, he hears his phone vibrate not even seconds later. Many expressions fall over the boys face as he goes to reply, and by the amount his thumbs are moving Simmons can tell he’s having a full fledged conversation with this person.
Whatever gets him out of here.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> words: 1763
>
> thank you for reading!
> feedback is appreciated <3
2. Kai and Tucker.
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Kai and Tucker exist now
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> simmons is a hot mess okay
> i promise he gets better guys <3
The door opens not even ten minutes later. It’s sudden, aggressive, and Simmons skin jumps, when the handle slams into the dirty wall. Bright light pools into the room, a short silhouette following in after it.
It’s a younger girl who slides up and leans against the frame, bare arms dressed with bracelets at the wrist. Her dark hair is shaved on one side, full curls falling from other. Simmons scans down confused, a yellow dress and vibrant purple converse? “Hey bro! Finally coming out of the closet, I see.” | 7ceac1774ed64cc6a48b1d9f1bee7ca9 | ['4daaf3824b3e41d4abbb3952e03a663a'] | His father's smile lights up as soon as he walks up the final step. Golden light shines on his stark black attire, reflects off the deep brown of his remaining hair. He begins spewing the usual bullshit. Simmons has no time to relax though. He gathers the tail of his top back where it goes and readies himself to follow in his father's suit.
“And now, I’d like to bring out my son,” he grins at Simmons, motioning him to join, “Ah! There he is! My boy.” An arm rests against his upper back, crushing him into the solid force of his father side, he smiles harder to keep himself from wincing. “He’s only a freshman and he’s already on his way for valedictorian.” he laughs over exaggeratedly, “We are planning on bringing him in as our youngest branch manager- to get him ready to take over the family business later on, of course.”
The indent on his father cheek may wring the hearts of the audience; but his eyes scream look at ‘how much better my son is than yours,’ and that makes his heart wring more than any smile his father may give him. Richard laughs again, “Dick please hand me the first envelope.”
Simmons nods silently, walking to the side of the podium his father put him on and hands off the first name. He’s just a pawn. Richard recites name and the big number they pulled in for the week, everyone claps, and they move on to the next one. Anyone could be doing this right now, as long as they made his father look good, it didn’t matter the person.
While his father is reading off the fifth note Simmons looks up into the crowd for the first time. Everyone’s staring up at them. Some trained on him; though, none giving him friendly or pleasant faces, only jealousy and people trying to make themselves feel better by nitpicking at whatever flaws they can find- most are on the charismatic voice to his right. His fingers twitch behind his back as the crowd chuckles at something his father said.
He sees the group of kids from earlier in the far end of the room, the boy that lent him the pants- Caboose- flails his arms dramatically when he sees him looking. Kai joins him, waving as well, just as big, though much more controlled. Tuckers throws a thumbs up, Church is nodding, and Grif purely smiles, blinking right at him.
Simmons' chest swells and he finds his cheeks flaring up, eyes prickling like the waterworks are going to fall at any second. Emotions suddenly overflowing. Rising to the tip of his glass, ready to rush and pour onto the floor at any time. He scurries to grab the next name, but there’s none left.
“Looks like that’s it! Thank you for your help son-” Simmons takes that as his cue to leave, stumbling down the stairs “And thank you all for coming. Please en-”
Why is crying? Why is Simmons wiping at the tears running down his cheeks? All they did was wave. Simmons laughs. It comes out croaky and intercepted with sobs at every inhale. Is Simmons seriously that pathetic that he cries at the first sign of friendliness?
Simmons cleans himself up for what seems the hundredth time today and walks back out to the party. The speech’s final words are done; though the party doesn’t end until 6, at least for Simmons. People usually begin to trickle out around 5. For now, everyone is back to socializing. The first round of food is being covered back up, the dozen rented tables being prepared for the next wave.
The group of friendly faces is sat in the back corner of the room, near the kitchen doors and large indented window. Kai is standing on the sill, one arm pressed against the glass and the other hovered above her eyes. She looks around the room before landing on the redhead. He smiles wearily in return. She beckons for him to come over.
She must want him there, right? What about everyone else? He doesn’t want to intrude on their.. friendship if they don’t want him there.
“Nerd! Are you- over h- or are you- ona- make us come to you?”
Simmons can barely make out what he’s saying over the noise but he understands enough to know at least two out of the five want him there. He knows he wants to be there. Gathering his courage he zooms across the room before he can wuss out.
“Hi.” It comes out his a rush, his lungs falling out with the single word.
“You were so cool up there Simon!”
“You did great.”
“Valedictorian, huh?”
Simmons shoves at Grif, “Oh my god, shut up! He just likes to say that."
“Mhm, okay nerd.”
“Seriously!” Simmons can’t stop smiling.
“Yeah, uh huh. And can you inform me when the foods coming out, Mr. 4.0?”
It’s actually a 4.3 but Simmons is not about to correct him, “It should be out anytime now.”
Church sighs loudly next to Kai, “Is food all you ever think about?”
“Mmmmm,” Grif leans forwards, feigning deep thought, “Yeah, pretty much.”
There's a loud smack. “Ow, what the fuck??”
“That wasn’t very nice Leonard- I mean Church.”
“It wasn’t very nice to fucking hit me Michael.”
“Hmmmm,” the brunette points to the girl behind him, “but Kai hit you, not me. And my name is Caboose!”
“Kaikaina!”
“No one insults my dumbass brother but me."
“I think you mean fatass.”
“Ah yes! Thank you, Simmons.”
“Oh, so he can insult him huh? I see how it is.’
The back and forth of the group goes on for a dozen more minutes, Grif groaning over how hungry, how starved, he was every three. |
2ef3995a33384cbdafdd07de158e06f2 | ['4dbaf6db79af4e96ae53244808cb02dc'] | > But also Charles and Erik argue a lot cos they have their own speculation and also lots of pride, and Moira the counselor, on one occasion, request for them to kiss to make up. Sparks fly and whatnot.
> Then Shaw lured them to a nearby abandoned mine and trapped them there, allowing some time for heart-to-heart talks and relationship buliding.
>
> But they manage to get out and in the end Charles, while placing one journal on the crooked shelf with another thick book on one side, realised that the journal, despite its relatively thin content, is as heavy as the thick book.
>
> And YUP, the gold is melted and in the ink- that's why the content of these journals are utter nonsense : 'I sneezed. The cat meowed and jumped off the chair. I took a bath.' because his ancestor just needs to use the ink.
>
> So using lure and stuff maybe they manage to catch Shaw in action and probably find some evidence for his past deeds.
> And so everyone's happy, including some side hank/alex drama. Hooray!
>
> Sorry if I'm explaining badly, maybe ya'll want to watch Mr. Monk here (http://vodlocker.com/k34rr7emhl55)
> for a clearer picture! Its only 40 minutes, and its worth the time heh. But there's no romance between the two main leads though, sorry to disappoint.
>
> Brief intro: Mr. Monk is a brilliant homicide detective with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, sort of, and have solved every case except for the murder of his wife 4 years ago, which have worsened his condition to the point he can't stay a cop so he had to hire a nurse/assistant to work as a detective-for-hire.
>
> Yup, hope this satisfies your prompt heh :) | a6e3e0aceb8e44feb902493baf57e37f | ['4dbaf6db79af4e96ae53244808cb02dc'] |
Damn, We're Married.
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Written for **comradeocean** , with the prompt : "Charles and Erik are spies/assassins/operatives who have to be paired up and fake married for a mission. hi-jinks ensue."
>
> I hope detectives are somewhat operatives? Heh?
>
> Uhhh it's suppose to be sort of an art fill but I sort of thought about the beginning so I'm just going to vomit what's on my mind.
>
> Forgive my writing, I'm really not an author of any kind.
>
> Hope you liked it!
Shaw, Shaw, Shaw was on Erik's mind ever since Captain Angel Salvador had called him about his next mission to investigate his greatest enemy, Sebestian Shaw. However, she refused him further details until he has come down to the office.
The elevator dinged, momentarily pulling Erik back into reality. The door opens and he strides with purpose towards his destination.
Shaw, who had stolen artifacts from a museum and burnt the place down, along with Erik's parents who happened to be in there. Shaw, who is still a free man because there's insufficient evidence against him- all burnt away. Shaw, who is about to get his sorry ass sent to prison with Erik on his case.
Erik makes a turn and promptly walked into a man holding two cups of hot coffee, spilling them all over his favourite coat.
" Hey, watch it!" Erik growls as he looked up to the bluest eyes he have ever seen, accompanied by curly soft umber hair and cherry red lips.
The man instantly looked abashed as he gushed apologies and fumble to wipe Erik's unsalvageable coat.
Great, Erik thought, the last thing he needs now is an attractive klutz to be in his way of revenge. He ignored the man and shouldered past him to continue his way to the office.
...
" Captain." Erik greeted upon opening the door.
" Lehnsherr," Captain Salvador acknowledged, " What happened to you?". She eyed his coat with mirth.
" Bumped into someone in my way," He rolled his eyes as he answered, " Now tell me more about the mission."
" Slow down there, detective, we have to wait for someone before I start. Have a seat. "
Erik raised his eyebrow in question, but took a seat anyway.
Just then, a man burst in the door, panting and shooting off apologies for being late, captain, I had to change because I spilled-
His eyes land upon Erik and started another string of apologies.
It took awhile for Erik to connect familiar British accent and blue eyes to the guy who he had collided with, which by then that man had his hand already stuck out along with " Charles Xavier, I'm so so sorry for just now. "
Erik reluctantly took the hand and mumbled " Erik Lehnsherr." Then he turned to Angel and asked " What's going on here?"
" Well I'm glad both of you have met. Let's move on to the mission. " Angel answered, gesturing to the sleek black armchairs.
They took their seats. She stood from her chair, rounded her desk and leaned against it.
" Sebestian Shaw is an antique expert who have been making good money by acquiring valuable assets through dirty means without leaving traces. However, we know its him because that bastard likes to rub it in our faces that we can't catch him with the insufficient evidence we have by leaving his name at sites of stolen material. He would then, when confronted, deny and argue with a smirk that it could be someone else framing him and we can't prove otherwise. " Angel briefed, mostly for Charles' sake.
Erik already knows this, and much more. The knowledge flows in his veins. He clenched his fist tighter.
" Recently we have news that Shaw have signed up for a 3- days marriage counselling therapy at Waterford Institute and nobody knows why. But obviously it's another attempt to steal something valuable at that old mansion," Angel continued, which is most likely true because Shaw can't give two shits about romance and since when was he married?
"So this is our only chance to catch him at work." She glanced at the both of them.
" You want us to go undercover as... a married couple? " Charles questioned with a wince.
" What?" Erik blurted, unexpected.
" Correct, Charles. You two are the best detectives-for-hire that I know so I think it would be wise to put you two undercover to investigate his actions. " Angel responded.
" I don't.. particularly mind. " Charles said hesitantly, chancing a glance at Erik.
Erik glared back at him, which surprisingly failed to change his decision. If there's anyone he had to pretend to be married to he'll at least hope they'll be quiet and let Erik do things his way. Charles seems to be the exact opposite of his ideal partner.
Alright, plan B. He smirked menacingly, making sure to show all his teeth. But somehow this has been misunderstood as some kind of agreement and to Erik's horror, Charles beamed right back.
" Alright, so its settled! " The Captain clapped her hands together and concluded, " Tomorrow 2p.m. you two will turn up at Waterford Institute together as Francis and Max Eisenhart, and catch Shaw in action within the next 3 days. "
...
At Waterford Institute...
\- To be continued.. hopefully.. by someone else ya? :))
\-- BONUS --
**Author's Note:**
> Yupppp. Apologies for mistakes, again. Ermmmmmm if anybody wants to continue the plot from Mr. Monk is just probably Shaw getting some clue from his past ancestor that the key to the missing gold from like 50 years ago is in his journals which has been kept in the Waterford Institute. And so all of them keeps reading long boring journals and trying to figure where the gold was kept.
> |
e8a561846c204d34b85aa5e317e21c98 | ['4e53368970904ed5b740fe7b9c33a9fd'] | "I apologize, it had completely slipped my mind," Sabine laughed, "she just up and did it one day, seemed frustrated about something, even. She's been a lot happier since she started."
"I'm sure she has, not having to stay in one place anymore, huh?" I stopped and glanced back to Mrs. Agreste. Something in her voice sounded distant, and as I met her gaze, her eyes looked sad, even when she smiled at me.
Suddenly, Adrien burst into tears, and it made all of us jump. I huffed, nearly rolling my eyes at the neediness of this baby before heading back towards him. Rather him shut up than keep him bawling his eyes out. I reached him, sitting up right and patted his leg to get his attention, though he seemed too far gone into his crying.
"Ien!" I blurted out, frustrated, hitting my lap in annoyance. It was hard trying to get the syllables of his name out as well, and it was disappointing that I couldn't get it out completely right, which I suppose was still a feat in itself as I only recently finished my second round of teething.
"Oh my _God_...did she just-" Mrs. Agreste's jaw dropped, and I turned to look at them, as something had clattered on the table.
"She said his name..." Sabine cooed, hands clasped and watching me in adoration. I scowled but turned my attention back to Adrien as he had stopped crying and was sniveling. "She just finished her second teething, she didn't cry but she just seemed to be in discomfort. She hasn't tried talking yet- I'm so surprise..."
"Adrien's finished his third..." the blonde woman murmured, "He's exclaimed syllables, but no actual words-"
"Nette!" Adrien raised his arms, smiling stupidly at me. Though he said my name as well, it came out more slurred and the punctuation on the t's were a little off, he seemed to have done fine. I smile approvingly at him, maybe he wasn't too bad.
"I'm going to pine for them until they day they get married." Mrs. Agreste said so seriously. "Oh, I can't wait to see the look on Gabriel's face when I tell him..."
-
It was actually really intimidating suddenly being entrusted with the Agreste's, as Sabine and Tom had decided they wanted to go out of town- though not on a date or vacation, it was this annual baking thing that I think they had to miss the previous year due to me still being too small, and I couldn't just not let them go do what makes them happy by making a fuss. I was fifteen months now, nearly a year and a half old, I could let them go somewhere without me.
I was just a little scared, as there is a big difference between being left at daycare for a good portion of a day with people trained and experienced in taking care of infants and toddlers than to be left with another family for a few days.
But I would do it for Sabine and Tom.
"Oh this is going to be so much fin, Marinette! You and Adrien are going to grow closer, and I've already informed his daycare that I'm going to be taking you for a few days and are so excited to meet you!"
Oh, wonderful, a new day care as well.
"Nette!" Adrien ran through a doorway and headed towards me, arms spread and ready to embrace me. I let go of Mrs. Agreste's hand and steady myself for her son's affection that I could never refuse because just the hurt and sad look he would get was ridiculously hard to ignore.
"Adrien," I greeted as I normally did (though it sounded more like _Adwien"_ as I still had yet to nail my r's) and gave him a quick squeeze.
"I didn't actually believe he'd be so excited to see another girl that isn't his mother," a joking voice said from the same doorway that Adrien had come darting out of. I glanced over, eyes meeting up to a mad who towered over all of us, blond hair styled back, blue eyes meeting mine. "Hello, I am Gabriel Agreste, I've heard about you from my wife."
I stuck out my hand towards him, surprising him, "Marinette." He stared for a moment, before chuckling, seemingly amused and took my hand in his.
"Nice to meet you, Marinette."
I gave him a look before nodding. I didn't know how to feel about this man but as long as he doesn't treat me like the infant I physically am like everyone else, I'd be fine.
Somewhere around the time during dinner, I paused in eating my spaghetti, and mulled over all the names in my head; _Sabine, Tom, Marinette, Adrien, Gariel and Mrs. Agreste._ The biggest names that stood out to me were Marinette, Adrien and _Agreste_. But I couldn't recall why they seemed to ring a bell. I shrugged.
Doesn't seem too important.
4. 004
Staying with the Agreste's was an interesting experience, to say the least, and with how it went, that is definitely the least I could say about it. As a two year old now, I had been able to learn to finally pronounce words, and my parents along with me teachers were definitely impressed by my rapid learning abilities, but I was a quiet child compared to the others my age, so it didn't always seem so.
As soon as my parents dropped me off at the large estate of the Agreste's, Mrs. Agreste held my hand and led me inside, giggling at me looking around in awe. This was one giant home considering there was only three people actually lived here.
"Nette!" Adrien exclaimed, running from a doorway and tackling me to the ground in a giggling mess. I grunted upon impact and sighed when I opened my eyes and was met with the ceiling. | c376c061d457453183051b37b99f5c04 | ['4e53368970904ed5b740fe7b9c33a9fd'] | "Mr. Bourgeois! I thought you wouldn't be able to make it from how busy you are, I'm glad you made time!" she greeted warmly, looking at the woman next to him curiously.
"Oh, Sabine, how nice to see you. Yes, yes, I'll always do my best to make time for Chloe, she's my precious daughter, after all."
"I know how that is," Tom sighed dreamily, watching as Marinette glanced over to them, and he waved excitedly. She rolled her eyes, but he saw the small smile on her lips.
"Ah, Tom, Sabine, this is my wife Audrey! I believe this is the first time you'll be meeting her."
"Oh!" Sabine brought a hand to her mouth, smiling, "I figured she was, Chloe looks very much like you, Mrs. Bourgeois. Just as beautiful."
Despite hearing compliments all the time, being quite famous, Audrey flustered slightly from the genuine compliment. The way Sabine said it was full of warmth, one that only another mother would understand.
But instead of thanking her, she looked away bashfully, not letting the woman- Sabine- know that she let it get to her, and instead, gloated, "Of course she is, she's my daughter, after all!"
Sabine only laughed, nodding in agreement.
It was quiet, and class was going to start in a few minutes.
Audrey looked at Sabine from the corner of her eye, watching her lean on her husband, hugging his arm as they watched their child. She grew curious.
"Which one is yours?" She wasn't curious, nor did she care. She just wanted to know who the child of this...nicer, woman was.
Sabine nodded her head towards the area she had been at previously, "Over there, the girl with midnight hair and bluebell eyes," Audrey twitched, looking at Marinette in disbelief. "I think I saw you meet her, briefly. Marinette, my daughter," she shook her head, "she's really a nice girl, I promise you, but she's not one to beat around the bush."
"She's rude," Audrey huffed, "insulted me."
Sabine turned to her, smile in place, but this time it was off, as she tilted her head. It was a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, "Marinette only insults someone once they've insulted her or someone she cares about," she drawled and Tom shifted, giving her hand a small squeeze. "She doesn't start fights unless she has a reason to. She won't care who you are, status doesn't matter to her. To her, you're just another person."
Audrey clamped her mouth shut, and Sabine faced forward again as the teacher came in and announced that classes were to begin.
She pursed her lips, and crossed her legs as well, eyes shifting to Marinette, who put her book away and sat with her pencil and notebook out. Looking rather bored as she waited.
What was so special about this Marinette anyways?
She's just a _child._
25. 025
As it turned out, there was so much more to Marinette than meets the eye. The teacher was equal about calling on names to answer questions.
But, other parent's noticed, that she would always hesitate when calling on Marinette. Tom and Sabine especially noticed the teacher's pause before deciding to pick their daughter to answer.
She was always correct.
Which, they figured, wasn't difficult for their little Marinette, she has always been oh-so-smart. She didn't really come to them about her homework, and always brought back beautiful report cards. It was just another thing they didn't have to stress about, thinking about her future. But they long since decided that Marinette could be whatever she wanted to when she grew up.
It was now their lunch break- which was essentially a banquet from all the food all the parents brought to share with everyone. Marinette eyed everything with bright eyes, and happily tried everything that was offered on the table (excluding anything that had contained chocolate, much to her dismay).
"Marinette!" she turned to see her parents sitting with the Bourgeois', and walked over with her plate (filled with many foods) and sat down in between her parents. She looked at Chloe for a moment, who frowned at her, and bobbed her head in greeting before tucking into her food. "So, Mrs. Bourgeois, this is Marinette. She's twelve, but her birthday is coming up!"
"It's not a big deal, mom," Marinette rolled her eyes, "if anything, I'd rather not think about it. Birthdays are simply yearly reminders that children came out of their mothers-"
"Marinette, please," Tom brought a hand to cover is ears, "I don't want to hear that from my baby."
"Speaking of babies, we learned how they were made in class last week, well, the others did, but I already knew about it-"
"Is she always like this?" Audrey stared at Marinette in distaste, but oddly enough, more impressed than anything.
"Has been since she was born," Sabine sighed, "she's always been very independent."
"Unfortunately, I still have to depend on them for a few more years," Marinette piped up, swallowing her food, looking up at Audrey through her eyelashes, "since they take care of me, make me food, and pay my medical bills, not to mention the addition of how much they're going to have to spend on my feminine care-" she frowned, "which I'm still dreading, as much as I can take care of myself, I would be lost without my parental unit."
There was a small pause, as the Bourgeois' staring at Marinette who starting digging into her food once again.
Chloe stopped eating to throw her a look, "Femim- what?"
"Remember when they showed us about the uterus, periods, and sperm? Feminine care is what females need during their monthly menstrual cycle."
Chloe gave a blank stare, "I shouldn't have asked." |
7e02fb44ae134f0a82db745223c87df9 | ['4e987d606f8f4f2ab599d7ad90012be8'] | “Gone away?” Bannakaffalatta guessed.
“Why would they give up?” the Doctor wondered. “Where have they gone? Where are the Host?”
“I'm afraid we've forgotten the traditions of Christmas.” Mr. Copper said, shakily. “That angels have wings!”
Host glided down and surrounded them. “Information: Kill.” They removed their haloes.
“Arm yourself, all of you!” the Doctor ordered.
Everyone on the bridge grabbed a bit of pipe and used it as a bat to send the haloes flying, but one cut the Doctor's arm and another injured Copper's side.
“Dad! Mr. Copper!” Lilith shouted.
Bannakaffalatta threw down his pipe. “Bannakaffalatta stop. Bannakaffalatta proud. Bannakaffalatta cyborg!” He lifted his shirt and sent out an energy pulse. It short-circuited the Host, sending them plummeting down into the engine core, except one that landed on the catwalk behind the Doctor.
“Electromagnetic pulse took out the robotics. Oh, Bannakaffalatta, that was brilliant!” the Doctor crowed.
Bannakaffalatta collapsed. Lilith and Astrid went to his side. “He's used all his power.”
“Did good?” he asked.
“You saved our lives,” Astrid said.
“Bannakaffalatta happy.”
“We can recharge you. Get you to a power point and just plug you in.”
“Too late.”
“No, but you got to get me that drink, remember?”
“Pretty girl.” Bannakaffalatta whispered and then died. Astrid started to fasten his shirt, but Mr. Copper reached for a component.
“I'm sorry. Forgive me.”
“Leave him alone,” Astrid whimpered
Lilith put her hand on Astrid’s shoulder. “It's just the EMP transmitter. He'd want us to use it.”
“I used to sell these things,” Mr. Copper said. “They'd always give me a bed for the night in the cyborg caravans. They're good people. But if we can recharge it, we can use it as a weapon against the rest of the Host. Bannakaffalatta might have saved us all.”
“Do you think? Try telling him that.” Slade pointed to the Host that had landed behind the Doctor.
“Information: Reboot.”
“Use the EMP!”
"It's dead. It's dead."
“No, no, no. Hold on!” the Doctor yelled. “Override loophole! Security protocol ten! Six, six, six! Er, twenty-one, four, five, six, seven, eight! I don't know, forty two?”
“One!” Lilith shouted.
The Host froze. “Information: State request.”
“Right,” she said, taking a breath. “You've been ordered to kill the survivors, why?”
“Information: No witnesses.”
“But this ship's going to fall on the Earth and kill everyone. The human race has nothing to do with the Titanic, so that contradicts your orders, right?”
“Information: Incorrect.”
“But why do you want to destroy the Earth?”
“Information: It is the plan.”
“What plan?” Lilith demanded.
“Information: Protocol grants you only three questions. These three questions have been used.”
“Well, you could have warned me,” she muttered.
“Information: Now you will die.” As the Host raised its halo, it was lassoed from behind.
“You're coming with me!” Foon yelled, jumping over the side and dragging the Host after her.
“No!” the Doctor shouted. “No more,” he growled, sonicing the door open and kicking away some debris. “Right. Get yourself up to Reception One. Once you're there, Mister Copper, you've got staff access to the computer. Try to find a way of transmitting an SOS. Astrid, you're in charge of this.” He gave her the EMP transmitter. “Once it's powered up, it'll take out a Host within fifty yards but then it needs sixty seconds to recharge. Got it? Rickston, take this.” The sonic screwdriver. “I've preset it. Just hold down that button, it'll open doors. Do not lose it! You got that? Now go and open the next door. Go on, go!”
“All right!” Slade ran.
The Doctor handed a first aid kit to Mr. Copper. “Mr. Copper, you're going to need this. I need you fighting fit. Astrid, where's the power points?”
“Under the comms,” she answered. They plugged in the EMP transmitter.
“See, when it's ready, that blue light comes on there.”
“You're talking as if you're not coming with us.”
“There's something down on deck thirty one. Lilith and I are going to find out what it is.”
“What if you meet a Host?” Astrid asked, worriedly.
Lilith shrugged. “Well, then we'll just have some fun.”
“Sounds like you do this kind of thing all the time.”
“Not by choice,” the Doctor said. “All we do is travel. That's what we are, just travellers. Imagine it. No tax, no bills, no boss. Just the open sky.”
“I'm sort of unemployed now. I was thinking the blue box is kind of small, but I could squeeze in it, like a stowaway.”
“It's not always safe,” Lilith warned
“You two are reckless, you need someone to take care of you. I've got no one back on Sto. No family, just me. So what do you think? Can I come with you?”
Lilith looked at her father, who nodded, then back at Astrid with a smile. “Yeah, I'd like that. Yes.”
The ship shook. The Doctor shot up and grabbed the comm. “Mister Frame, you still with us?”
“ _It's the engines, sir. Final phase. There's nothing more I can do. We've got only eight minutes left._ ”
“Eight minutes to save the world. Lovely,” Lilith muttered.
“Don't worry, I'll get there,” he Doctor assured him.
“ _But the bridge is sealed off._ ”
“Yeah, yeah, working on it. I'll get there, Mister Frame, somehow. All charged up? Mister Copper, look after her. Astrid, look after him. Rickston, er, look after yourself.”
“I'll see you again,” Lilith promised Astrid.
“Hold on! There's an old tradition on Planet Sto.”
The Doctor was bouncing on his toes. “Lilith, we have really got to go.”
“Just wait a minute.” Astrid leaned in and lightly kissed Lilith.
Lilith blushed and rubbed the back on her neck, embarrassedly. “Yeah, that's a, ah, very old tradition, yeah.”
“See you later.”
She nodded vigorously. “Oh, totally!”
Lilith and the Doctor ran back across the bridge while the others carried on upwards. “Really, Lilith?” the Doctor asked.
“Shut up,” she mumbled, still blushing. | 326b5282b4fe436585748b59419771b1 | ['4e987d606f8f4f2ab599d7ad90012be8'] | _‘New Rome?’_ The Doctor suggested telepathically. Lilith spun a wheel and flipped a few levers while the Doctor pumped what looked suspiciously like a bicycle pump and twisted a couple knobs. The TARDIS began to shake and the three travelers were forced to grab onto the edge of the console.
“Ten thousand years in the future. Step outside; it's the year 12,005, the New Roman Empire.”
“You think you're so impressive,” Rose teased.
“I am so impressive!” the Doctor said, defensively.
“You wish,” Lilith snorted.
“Right then, you asked for it. I know exactly where to go.” He shoved Lilith out of the way and went about setting the coordinates. “Hold on!”
The TARDIS shook and Rose clung to the console like her life depended on it. Lilith, on the other hand, was lit up like she was having the time of her lives. “YES!” she shouted. “Oh, but I’ve missed this!”
“Where are we?” Rose asked once the TARDIS had landed. The Doctor gestured to the door. “What's out there?”
He gestured again. Lilith lightly shoved Rose. “Go. Take a look.”
She doesn’t hesitate before walking out of the TARDIS and out onto what Lilith faintly recalled to be called Platform One. Lilith and the Doctor followed her out silently, letting their companion take in her surroundings.
Rose went down a flight of steps and a large shutter in the wall descended to reveal an orbital view of Earth.
The Doctor approached her. “You lot, you spend all your time thinking about dying, like you're going to get killed by eggs or beef or global warming or asteroids. But you never take time to imagine the impossible, that maybe you survive. This is the year 5.5/apple/26. Five billion years in your future, and this is the day,” he looked at his watch, “hold on.” The sun flared and turned red.
“This is the day the sun expands.” Lilith took her place at Rose’s other side. “Welcome to the end of the world.”
* * *
“ _Shuttles five and six now docking. Guests are reminded that Platform One forbids the use of weapons, teleportation and religion. Earth Death is scheduled for 15:39, followed by drinks in the Manchester Suite,_ ” a computerized voice announced over a loud speaker.
The Doctor, Lilith, and Rose walked along a corridor. “So, when it says guests, does that mean people?” Rose asked.
“Depends what you mean by people,” Lilith answered.
Rose frowned “I mean people. What do you mean?”
"Aliens.”
“What are they doing on board this spaceship? What's it all for?”
“It's not really a spaceship,” the Doctor said. “More like an observation deck. The great and the good are gathering to watch the planet burn.” He used his sonic screwdriver on a wall panel.
“What for?”
Lilith shrugged. “Fun.” On the other side of the door was a large area with a few display cases and a view of space to the front and above. “Keep in mind, though, when he says the great and the good, what he means is the rich.”
“But, hold on,” Rose said, “they did this once on Newsround Extra. The sun expanding, that takes hundreds of years.”
“Millions,” the Doctor corrected. “But the planet's now property of the National Trust. They've been keeping it preserved. See down there?” He pointed out the window. “Gravity satellites holding back the sun.”
“The planet looks the same as ever. I thought the continents shifted and things.”
“They did,” Lilith said. “Then the Trust shifted them back. That's a classic Earth. But now the money's run out, nature takes over.”
“How long's it got?” Rose asked.
The Doctor checked his watch again. “About half an hour and then the planet gets roasted.”
“Is that why we're here? I mean, is that what you do? Jump in at the last minute and save the Earth?”
“I’m not saving it,” he said, leaning towards her. “Time's up.”
“But what about the people?”
“It's empty. They're all gone. No one left,” Lilith assured Rose.
Rose didn’t take it like she expected. “Just me, then.”
A blue-skinned person with golden slit eyes strode towards them. Probably the steward, Lilith noted. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded.
“Oh, that's nice, thanks,” the Doctor said, sarcastically.
“But how did you get in? This is a maximum hospitality zone. The guests have disembarked. They're on their way any second now.”
“That's us. We’re guests. Look, I've got an invitation.” He pulled the psychic paper out of his pocket. “Look. There, you see? It's fine, you see? The Doctor and Lilithanadir Smith plus one. I'm the Doctor, this is Lilithanadir Smith, and she’s Rose Tyler. She's our plus one. Is that all right?”
The steward took a moment to regain his composure. “Well, obviously. Apologies, et cetera. If you're on board, we'd better start. Enjoy.” He went over to a podium.
“The paper's slightly psychic,” the Doctor explained for Rose. “It shows them whatever I want them to see. Saves a lot of time.”
“Handy little trinket,” Lilith added. “Great for party crashing.”
“He's blue,” Rose said to her friend.
“Yep,” she responded. “You should see Mandalorians. They’re orange.”
Rose nodded, numbly. “Okay.”
“We have in attendance the Doctor, Lilithanadir Smith and Rose Tyler. Thank you. All staff to their positions,” The steward announced. A bunch of small, blue people appeared. “Hurry, now, thank you. Quick as we can, come along, come along. And now, might I introduce the next honored guest; representing the Forest of Cheem, we have trees, namely, Jabe, Lute and Coffa.”
A bark-skinned woman entered with two larger male escorts. A memory of Lilith’s slipped through of something her mother had said about a tree called Jabe.
“There will be an exchange of gifts representing peace. If you could keep the room circulating, thank you. Next,” the Steward continued, “from the solicitors Jolco and Jolco, we have the Moxx of Balhoon.” |
005398287e7849df9084710a4cda3a00 | ['4e9b558a1a7d4f8787d1af84dcaf86c9'] |
Between One Breath and the Next
"A single lifetime, Meredith Potter. That is all I can give you."
Those words echoed through her sleep-deprived mind. The specter in the train station had promised her a single lifetime before she would have to take on her duties as the Master of Death, whatever that entailed. It hadn't been too terribly clear on what exactly that meant.
Meredith wasn't certain what to do with the lifetime she had been given, however. Her life was a mess, and frankly, she frequently found herself wishing that it had just done whatever it was that it was planning on doing to her after her lifetime was up. It would certainly be less chaotic.
She stared unseeing at the ceiling, having long since given up on actually sleeping. Her brain moved in sluggish circles, jumping from one thought to another while her body felt like lead. She craved a dreamless sleep potion, but there was none to be found in her house, and even if there were, she couldn't quite bring herself to get up and get one.
Sleep was always slow in coming these days, particularly since she had stopped taking the addictive potion, but also because she dreaded sleeping. Memories had a habit of becoming nightmares; things had ended badly with the war, but her unconscious mind had a tendency of making them even worse.
If not for the fact that she had already gone two sleepless nights and could feel exhaustion dragging on bones, she probably would have given up already. But there was still the vague hope of falling asleep.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
The residents largely left her alone, although they gossiped terribly about her when they thought she wasn't listening. Most had figured out she was running from something, obvious given her haggard and unkempt appearance and her jumpiness, but the reasons why tended to range from the somewhat plausible to the downright ridiculous.
For her part, Meredith wasn't bothered by it too much. There wasn't any malice to it as far as she could see, just general small-town curiosity and nosiness. It was a far cry from the cruelty that she had experienced in the wizarding world, where every word was meant to bite.
Even so, she was in no hurry to explain anything to them, not that she could, given the statute of secrecy. The last thing she wanted them to know was that she had been involved in a war.
Perhaps not a war, looking back at it. More like an insurrection, really.
She had fought for herself and for her friends, for the innocents that were coming into the wizarding world unaware that the circumstances of their birth made them inferior in the eyes of many. She had fought for their right to live and learn.
They just hadn't wanted her around afterwards once they had started to realize what a mess they had left their hero in.
Apparently she could only be their savior as long as she was strong and brave, not addicted to various potions to keep her going, not suffering from nightmares and terrors, or the after-effects of repeated Cruciatus curses or suffering from a general state of paranoia that would have made Alastor Moody proud. No, in their eyes she had been nothing more than a symbol, and she couldn't very well be a broken one.
She had tried to live up to their expectations, but in the end she had failed at that too. It had taken months for her hands to stop shaking from the sheer need for another felix felicis, or for a night without nightmares of her friends dying around her.
In the end, she had lost everyone dear to her. The worst part was that not all of them had died during the war.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Jonathan Quill was a strange one. She didn't think he was interested in her sexually, but he had a tendency of coming around to her house every couple of days. He never stayed long, but he usually brought a dish. Sometimes it was meatloaf or pork roast, and other times it was dishes that he had clearly tried to make just for her. The shepard's pie didn't quite taste right, but it reminded her enough of home that she spent a good ten minutes crying while she was eating it.
It was several months before she felt comfortable enough inviting him into her home for supper. He was a world war II veteran. He recognized the signs of someone trying to put the pieces of their lives back together after seeing something truly horrific.
He never asked questions and she was grateful for that.
Slowly but surely, she began to heal in a little town in Iowa.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Meeting Ego was like waking up from a good dream. Everything was hazy and comfortable, and there was always the possibility of going back to sleep. He made her feel again, something she hadn't quite been convinced was even possible given that in the three years since she had fled England she still felt like she was walking around wrapped up inside of a cotton.
She still had nightmares and dreams about the people that she had lost. She still had terrible cravings for Dreamless Sleep, and she still found herself examining exits everywhere she went, particularly when other people were around.
Ego made her feel like a person again, like she could exist without the horrors of the wizarding war weighing her down.
She fell hard and fast for him and barely even batted an eye when he told her that he wasn't from earth. She had seen weirder, after all.
It broke her when he left, although his parting gift more than made up for it. She hadn't thought it possible to love someone as much as she had Ego until she was holding her newborn son in her arms.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 | 703d92e4c65746129358431358f0ab38 | ['4e9b558a1a7d4f8787d1af84dcaf86c9'] |
Spiritual Guidance
Harry barely noticed his walk back to the castle. His brain kept circling around what Hagrid had shown him. He was having a hard time wrapping his brain around the fact that he would be facing a dragon for the very first task. His battle against the basilisk seemed minor in comparison to what he would be facing in a few short days.
He wrapped his cloak tightly around him as he hurried across the lawn. In the distance he could see that the lights in Durmstrang's quarters were dimmed. Harry found himself briefly wondering if Karkaroff had already told Viktor what they would be facing.
Would the other champions panic when they heard what their first task was? Were they prepared for the possibility of facing a dragon? Harry wondered if there was such a thing as ever being prepared to face a dragon. He couldn't help but remember how the dragon tamers, Charlie Weasley included, had struggled to keep the dragons in check. If they had difficult, trained as they were, he could only imagine how difficult it was going to be for them. For him.
Harry was running on auto-pilot as he made sure to carefully wrap the cloak around his form. As he approached the Entrance Hall, he unearthed the Marauder's Map and examined it quickly. There was no one around to see him slipping back inside the castle.
After shutting the doors as quietly as he could manage, Harry hurried on. He didn't have much time to get from the ground floor to the Common Room before he needed to talk to Sirius.
So focused was he on the path back to his common room that Harry almost missed the oddity that had shown up on the map.
He was standing near the top of one of the staircases as it slowly drifted closer to the landing, and the landing was clear. According to his eyes, anyway. There was absolutely no one standing there as far as Harry could see. Harry had glanced down at his map, however, and noticed that it seemed to indicate that someone was standing right there.
Harry froze, staring down at the map. He recalled the oddities he had seen last year with the map and how he had discounted the existence of Peter Pettigrew, even though he had seen his name pop up repeatedly on the map.
If the map said someone was standing there, then that meant that someone was standing there.
Harry looked up again, prepared to start looking for someone invisible or maybe even as an animagus. He nearly fell over in shock, however, at what he did see.
Whoever Sanderson Mansnoozie was, they definitely weren't a student at Hogwarts, or a dignitary from either of the other schools.
Harry was hard-pressed to say what exactly the little man was, to be honest.
He couldn't see the entirety of his body, since it was partially obscured by the disk that he was sitting in the middle of. Gold dust that reminded Harry strongly of the sand used in Time Turner's swirled around him and seemed to make up the disk he was sitting on. Even his body, or at least his closed seemed to be made of the stuff. That wasn't half as disconcerting as the long tendrils snaking out of the disk.
He wasn't aware of the gasp of surprise that had escaped his lips, but the little man was staring intently in his direction. Harry instinctively stepped out of the path of one of the tendrils as it came dangerously close to running through his hair. It didn't stop there as it seemed to be probing the place where Harry was standing.
With no idea what exactly the stuff was made of, Harry didn't want to touch the stuff. Especially if it had some sort of time traveling purpose.
The little man's eyes were staring intently now, and Harry got the impression that he/it knew that something was there at least. He didn't look angry or even upset about being caught, mostly he just looked flummoxed at not being able to see what was there.
It was a magic school though, so that really shouldn't come as a surprise.
Harry, in his effort to avoid the tendril that was starting to get overly friendly with him, lost his footing and started to fall backwards. At some point, his wand had ended up in his hand, although Harry wasn't quite sure when that had happened. Before he could even think of a spell to cast, the tendril snapped out and wrapped around his waist, tugging him up to face the small floating man.
He was regarding Harry with a slight frown, and it took Harry several moments to recall that at least part of him must still be covered in the invisibility cloak, even if it had partially fallen off of his shoulders.
Sand swirled over his form for a moment, forming a question mark.
"Who- what are you?" Harry asked suspiciously, not about to explain why he was about after curfew.
Honestly he had no idea if the little man was a threat or not. He didn't look like one. Even holding Harry captive, he seemed more curious than anything.
A series of pictographs formed and dissipated in quick succession over the small man's head. It was far too fast for Harry to even begin to make heads or tails of it.
"Can you not just tell me?" He blinked. The little man shook his head and determinedly held a finger up to his lips. "Oh-kay then." Harry stared at him. "You're going to have to do that a lot slower." He indicated the pictures by waving his fingers in the general direction of the man's head. |
731a599a56fa4ad3a299c67addf535a5 | ['4ebd5579ab684329ae92c258198dbbeb'] | Mu accompanied him out of the guest bedroom. "Heartbreaker?"
Milo rolled his eyes. "Read the papers, Mu. The Dragon Saint had had quite a following since the Galaxian Wars Tournament. Even I as a male have to concede he is going to be a looker. Coupled with his painfully altruistic ways, I won't be surprised if even Gold Saints are tempted to jump into his bed before long." He waved at the nonplussed Mu. "Catch ya later. Gotta stop Aldebaran before he goaded the Ryu-Sei-Ken out of Seiya."
5. Recuperation
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> New chapter up! I know, a lot of suspension of belief here, but hey, the whole SS thing is all about suspension of belief :P Sorry if the chapters haven't been long enough. Anyway, pleeeeease comment a line or two if you're liking this so far. Will really appreciate it! :)
"What happened to you, Seiya?" Shun asked with surprise as he and Hyoga entered the Taurus temple later that night, shaking the beads of drizzle from their hair.
Seiya shamefacedly tried to hide a small bruise marking the right corner of his lips. "Just a little...argument with Milo."
"Milo?!" Hyoga exclaimed in surprise. "What happened?"
Seiya sighed and told them how Milo had walked right into the commotion between him and Aldebaran, set the record straight about the cause of the Taurus' saint's deafness (which Aldebaran had claimed was for protecting Saori) and told Seiya to get his crap together so as not to waste the older saint's sacrifice.
"Aldebaran..." Shun whispered sadly. "For us..."
"Still, Milo didn't have the right to box you like that when you have just recovered," Hyoga frowned. "I'll talk to him about it later."
"It's okay, Hyoga. I was the one acting silly, because Aldebaran...teased me about Saori-san and Julian," Seiya mumbled.
Hyoga's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "Ah."
"And he got quite a berating from Milo too for being so childish." A twinkle of mischief sparking Seiya's eyes.
Shun laughed. "I can imagine that. And where are they now?"
Seiya shrugged. "Probably at the garden down there, drinking."
They laughed, and the sound felt good in Hyoga's ears. He never thought they would be so lucky as to get another chance to laugh again.
"Where's Ikki?" Seiya asked as they sobered. He looked around, expecting the older boy to appear from nowhere like he always did.
"He left to find news about Saori-san, I guess," Hyoga explained for Shun, shrugging. "No surprise there. He recovered much faster than us, and never likes big crowds."
"I thought so," Seiya muttered glumly. "Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about Shiryu."
"What happened?" Hyoga and Shun asked almost in unison.
"Well...I've been thinking about what Aldebaran did, and I just remembered Shiryu, of the countless times he'd sacrificed himself for us. And then I realized that his cosmo has been dormant since he called to me yesterday. I can feel you guys' cosmos increasing steadily, but his...I don't know, it feels like it's building much slower." Seiya's brows furrowed in concern. "Make sense since his injury is a lot worse. Should we visit him and...I don't know...share some of Athena's power within us? Because it looks like he needs it more than we do."
"Worth a try," Shun said, and Hyoga nodded. "It's the least we can do for him after everything he has done for us."
The three Bronze saints stood from their seats and headed out. But after only a few steps down the stairs, they felt their legs giving out from under them.
"W-what's going on?" Shun stammered. "I felt okay just now..."
"I think we just tested our strength too much today," Hyoga mumbled as he hauled himself to his feet.
Seiya sighed. "Sorry, I am such an idiot. I shouldn't have asked you two to come all the way down here when you're still recovering as well. I'm just very worried about Shiryu." He stood and started down the stairs. "Maybe I better go there alone."
"No wait, Seiya," Shun hurriedly caught his friend's arm before Hyoga could say anything. "I think I've got a better idea."
"What is it?" His friends asked curiously.
"Shaka taught me something yesterday. You know how he builds his cosmo by always sitting and keeping his eyes shut? And how my brother used this technique back against him after Shaka removed his five senses?" Hyoga and Seiya nodded. "He said when we are at meditative state, we can concentrate our cosmo and project it to anywhere we want, depending on our abilities. My brother managed to help me dispel the Gemini temple illusion all the way from Kanon Island this way. Shaka said we can channel our cosmos more efficiently when we are physically shut down. Do you think we can do it for Shiryu?"
"Heck, we have attained the seventh sense. Anything is possible," Hyoga said as he and his friends turned back to the Taurus temple.
* * *
Mu woke with a start. He hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep. Apparently the long hours of watching over Shiryu had begun to take its toll on him. He groggily stood up-the book he'd been reading fell onto the floor-and realized someone had put a blanket over him. Outside, thunder rumbled low and rain was falling steadily.
He turned to Shiryu's bed and found it empty.
Puzzled, he walked out of the room and was greeted with a surprising sight. | 35dab174a58841458cb616069eb51931 | ['4ebd5579ab684329ae92c258198dbbeb'] | Mu followed him to the lower cliffs beside the waterfall. The Dragon Cloth box was there, placed neatly among the rocks.
"Roshi..." Mu began, shocked. "Have you..." It was then that he noticed that the old master's hand was shaking.
Roshi nodded. "This is the least I can do for my beloved student." He turned to Mu. "Take it back now, Mu, while the blood is still warm. Our conversation here has finished. You know what to do."
Mu nodded with great effort, then with a flick of his finger, he made the box disappear into thin air.
"One last thing, Mu," Roshi called before Mu teleported himself after the Cloth. "Do not tell Seiya and his friends about Hades yet. They need to fight without extra burden. And whatever the outcome of the battle will be, the fight against Hades will solely be _our_ business."
"I understand, Roshi," Mu said simply before disappearing into thin air.
Roshi smiled wistfully. "Your master will be so proud of you, Mu."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> *xiansheng = Chinese for 'mister'
8. Resolution
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sorry for the lack of update. Two notes on this chapter:
>
> 1\. I take a bit of creative liberty to explain how the Bronzies get to Atlantis, because in the manga they see Roshi at Lushan and jump to the waterfall, which does not fit this story because they're recovering in Sanctuary instead of Japan and it does not make sense for them to go all the way to China to enter Atlantis.
>
> 2\. Like in the manga, Ikki's cloth does not receive GS' blood in this story (though for different reason). I think everybody knows it can resurrect itself even after being reduced to dust...
>
> Anyway, sorry for the short and lame chapter, but up next is Milo and Hyoga, so for Scorpio and Aquarius fans, stay tuned :)
Virgo Shaka found Mu sitting cross-legged on the floor at the center of the empty Libra temple, a Dragon Cloth box before him.
"You were not at Milo's party," Shaka pointed out.
Mu only shook his head. "Shaka, would you do me a favor?"
There was a beat before the other saint answered, "Just say it."
* * *
When he awoke, he was back in his room.
It was hard to tell the time, so dark it was. He tried to find the window, and thought he could just make out faint lightning outside. The weather had taken an extreme turn, buckets of rain pouring from black clouds.
_Poseidon._
The thought made him jump out of bed, but as soon as his feet touched the floor, the world tilted and he fell back into darkness.
He only came around at someone calling his name.
"Mu! What happened?"
He slowly opened his eyes to see a concerned face floating above him in the dark. "Shiryu?"
The younger saint propped him up on his pillows, then moved to light a candle. Mu closed his eyes to block the sudden bright light. His head hurt.
"I heard you fell. Are you alright?"
He remembered now. He had been up all night working to fix the damaged Bronze cloths. The cloths that had been bathed in the blood of Aiolia, Milo, Shaka, and Roshi. Normally fixing cloth did not take up so much of his energy, but the stress of the Sanctuary battle and helping to take care of the comatose Bronze saints had taken its toll on him. Not to mention all burdening thoughts that had bothered his mind the day before. Not wanting to make a big deal out of it, he simply nodded and asked, "What time is it now?"
"About eight in the morning," Shiryu answered, then sat beside Mu on the bed. The smell of soap and clean musk wafted to Mu's nose. "Do you want something to eat? You look rather pale."
Mu slowly opened his eyes to see Shiryu wearing a brand new blue, sleeveless Chinese shirt he had never seen before. Must be the gift from Shunrei. "Some dumplings would be nice."
"I still have the rice cakes from Shunrei," Shiryu said, a smile heard in his voice when mentioning the girl's name. "Thanks for bringing them back, Mu."
"No problem," Mu smiled weakly. "The shirt looks good on you."
Shiryu smiled bashfully before slinking out of the room. Mu stared at the ceiling, listening to the rumble of thunder outside, wondering what to say to the Bronze boys. Yesterday he had refrained from mentioning Roshi's order to stay put in the Sanctuary to his comrades, knowing most of them would not accept it well. Especially Aiolia and Milo. He did not need discord and quarrel right now. He would figure out how to reveal it later.
Shiryu returned before long with a tray of food. Mu's hand still shook slightly when he tried to hold the spoon, so Shiryu fed him the soup. Mu could not help but notice how the boy's calm, dark grey-green eyes were made a shade deeper with the shirt he wore.
"Where is Kiki?" Mu asked, more to divert his wandering mind than actual concern.
"He's out to buy some groceries." Shiryu placed the empty bowl back on the tray on the bedside table and looked apologetic. "What happened, Mu? Are you tired because you have been taking care of me...of us?"
Mu shook his head. "I have only been doing...some preparations for the coming battle."
Shiryu frowned. "Battle? You mean Athena..."
Mu nodded. "You must have felt it too, Shiryu. Athena has managed to buy us some time, but it has run out now." He proceeded to tell the younger saint what Roshi had told him, and after some hesitation, hinted that they might need to do this alone as Roshi felt some other danger lurking around the Sanctuary. |
be68e99fc2c74fd5bb6b6d537f565b9a | ['4ed3bba555ed4837a2fef915c8c3fb7a'] | The Good Ones Always Seem to Break
**Author's Note:**
> Hello!
>
> This is my first long series and I am very excited to share it with you!
>
> I'm still unsure of the specifics (like how long the fic will be) but I've had this idea in mind for a long time and I was very eager to write out at least an introduction!
>
> Enjoy!
No matter how much you tried to reason it, this was your breaking point. Never did you saw yourself happy, and such lack of visualisation showed through your inability to navigate scenarios that went in your favour. Usually, this was nothing - one less worry from a failed job interview, a lowered expectation from a bad grade, fewer birthdays to remember with the loss of a friend - but this time was different. This time you really fucked up.
Pinpointing the start of the end was tricky - was it the time you met him?
Messy hair, flashy smiles and bold moves. It was your first birthday away from home and you were drunk and lonely and he was another friendly face you saw that day. He was the first to approach, but to your surprise, you were the first to talk. You asked him his name and he was taken aback, probably ready to fire a bad pick-up line, but he recovered quickly.
Jesse Mccree.
Something about him reminded you of home - or at least the nostalgic notion you had of home, even if fictitious - warm, deep and sweet like honey. You then told him about yourself, the pieces of you that made the most sense: your name, your age and why you were at the bar. The rest was a blur, you had thought of it as a fleeting moment of drunken courage and so made minimal effort to remember, that way you were less prone to linger when the paralysing sense of loneliness came back.
Was it on your first date?
You had done nothing with him but talk on that first night - even if drunk, the dread of rejection was always at the back of your mind. When you woke up the day after, you were surprised to see a note clutched in your hand that you soon found out to contain his number. Hesitantly, you texted him. To your surprise, he replied and, even more surprisingly, you texted back. After an hour or so, the two of you arrange to meet the coming weekend.
The venue was a local restaurant that you had never heard of but that he assured you was the best in the area. He was there early, wearing a simple dress-shirt and denim trousers and hair perfectly imperfect. You liked him, the realisation hitting you after your first bite of dessert. He liked you too, judging by the way he asked to see you again and his reaction when you agreed to it. Going back to your apartment was hard after that. You had too many emotions bubbling up - mainly regret for leading him on when you were aware that you were entirely incapable of loving him back.
You still went along to the second date. And the third. And the many more after that.
Was it when you first entered into a relationship?
He kept calling it ‘exclusive’ and when you told him you hated that word, he visibly flinched. Stuttering, he looked down and explained what he meant:
‘I- I want us to be together… like a couple?’
A lot of things crossed your mind. First was the way that he stared intently into your eyes as if trying to decipher your silence. The second was the noises around your - the chatter, the laughter. The final one was a feeling akin to a gut punch. No going back now.
‘I would love that.’
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you for reading!
>
> It'll probably be a while before I update it due to upcoming university exams :'0
>
> Feel free to leave me comments with suggestions for further chapters and criticisms! I will greatly appreciate them!
>
> And for anyone dealing with any of the issues addressed in this fic, please take care of yourself! I'm still new to AO3, but you can find me in Tumblr @Pink-fubby if you need to talk!
>
> Goodbye for now! :) | d84320c7c7c344fbae78848f2be18586 | ['4ed3bba555ed4837a2fef915c8c3fb7a'] |
Bruises
**Author's Note:**
> One of the first works I ever made - I think around 2016? - and I felt like I needed to put this out there.
> Criticism is more than welcomed!
>
> [Edit: I didn't expect people to read this if I'm quite honest, so I didn't even bother to proofread it or change it orz.
> I just rewrote some parts and corrected some errors - but feel free to tell me if I missed any! Thank you so much for reading this 2-years-old fanfic! It makes me very happy!!]
Dark splotches began to form on the dry concrete beneath him. His vision was blurry with tears which didn’t cease to flow and which made the spot above his cheeks itch due to the saline dampness. Between deep, shallow breaths, he passed his right hand through his dark blonde hair. His long, pale, and bony fingers acted as a comb while the blunt edges of his nails scratched his scalp, leaving burning trails to remind him that he was indeed awake. Slowly, he palmed his slender frame looking for any signs of pain while his eyes scanned carefully the areas of exposed skin. Fortunately, only one bruise had formed just below his right knee, exactly where the first hit had landed. The colors of the injury entranced him and sent him into a spiraling panic.
His glasses and his school books had been discarded on the floor, and both had also suffered from major scratching and dust. However, it wasn’t anything that prevented Armin from seeing, nor reading, nor caring. With all his stuff gathered, he began his journey home.
Just as he had expected, midway from crossing the park near his house was when the pain began to be too much for him to continue. A bench near the artificial lake was the sign he needed to take a rest - at least until he had enough energy to stand up and walk again. The pain hit in rhythmic throbs; Armin even noticed a pattern on how they came – he compared it to a needle going in and out of the same spot. But the bruise clouded his mind; familiar colors that made him feel so foreign, so out of place. So he stared, and each hue brought back another racing memory – all of them were memories of Eren.
At first, he noticed the blue highlights of the bruise. These reminded him of the ocean and, by default, of Eren. It was their lifelong promise to explore the ocean one day. To swim in the vast glory of the depths of the waters and to see the creatures that inhabit it, no matter how scary they seemed for their 7-year-old minds. A book of Armin’s grandfather was their source of knowledge on the subject - with a map of the many oceans that surrounded the earth, diagrams and pictures of some fauna, and walls of text with words too long for them to comprehend at the time (who knew it was pronounced ‘Transatlantic’?). The memory caused him to chuckle slightly.
Then, he caught a glimpse of the dried-up blood that covered the areas where his skin was scratched. It was right after their enrolment to college when the football team first spotted Armin, as in order to get to his advanced physics class, he had to cross near the fields where the team practiced. The deep red reminded him of the many times he would attempt to patch Eren up - it was both a blessing and a curse that the brunette would always rise up to his defense when the football team decided to mess with him.
‘If Eren wouldn't have left, this wouldn’t keep happening’, Armin thought. He knew it wasn’t fair for him to say that, because no matter how hard he pushed and punched, Eren – hyperactive, furious and passionate Eren – was still no match for them. But that was fine by him. It felt much better to be beaten up together than suffering by himself. At least they could take care of each other's wounds, or laugh at the action-filled moments, or cry together, or get to know they were not alone and that someone cared.
It was the paleness of Armin’s knee that made the different shades of green stand out so much. Various shades of the color decorated the injury and every single one of them resembled Eren's eyes. After studying them carefully, he matched them with the different (but equally breath-taking) moods that he had seen reflected on his eyes: dark green when his mother had passed away, a golden olive when his gaze was burning with fury, and the light, soft green hues of his smiling eyes – the exact same eyes he could never grow tired of staring at and that he would do anything in his power (and beyond) to see. It was those eyes that he missed so, so much. He stared at that shade of green longer than the rest of the colours.
As the internal bleeding of the bruise had settled, some parts were tainted a soft shade of brown. He could feel the blood rushing to his head; it was the same damned color as his uniform. Armin could clearly remember the exact day the little ‘join-the-army-now!’-bug had been implanted in Eren’s head. That same afternoon, they came back home, and the brunette had shared his desires to join. On his hand was a leaflet with all the information and papers he needed to enroll. The mere thought made Armin’s heart hurt a bit, yet in the end and although a little hesitant, the blonde helped him fill in the papers because as long as he got to see that smile on his face – the one that made his stomach flutter and return the gesture – he was willing to do anything. Especially now that he knew that he wasn’t going to see it any much longer.
He still flinches at the sight of anything military related: soldiers marching in parades, the school talks and demonstrations, and even the adverts on TV. Guess what hurts him the most is the fact that he knows Eren is not one of them.
The parts that most hurts were the purple ones.
It was Armin’s last day with Eren, who was soon to be shipped to a nearby war zone, and although the blonde was well aware of the months of training Eren had endured, he was convinced they were not enough to prepare him for the grim reality that was war. The brunette had driven all the way to Armin’s house on his dad's old pickup and had thrown little pebbles at his window to signal him to wake up and come out. As silently as possible, he sneaked out of the house and, after some whispered greetings, the They laid down on the grass, unconcerned by the droplets of dew that moistened their clothes, and they looked at the stars while taking. They talked about them: the times they had spent together, their up and downs and their inside jokes. Eren and Armin had talked for what seemed like an eternity, but not even an eternity was enough for them. The two wanted to talk and to remember - they wished for this to last forever. But it couldn't. As the first rays of sunlight reminded them of the few moments they had left together, it accentuated how much it pained them to part. There was still much to say. In the present, tears flooded Armin's eyes again. These tears, however, hurt much more than the ones he had shed when the football team hit him - mainly because these tears were for Eren. Most of the droplets fell on his shirt and were promptly absorbed by the material, others managed to hit his knee and slid towards his injury.
Right, the bruise appeared to not hurt anymore. With so much remembering, he had forgotten the initial purpose of his rest. He passed his hand atop of it. It was a superficial touch. A careful graze. And yet, it reminded him of Eren's touch.
Armin didn't initially notice Eren carefully placing his hand on top of his - it was quick and unexpected, and yet, so soft and warm. His caress was reminiscent of Eren. With the lights becoming more intense, the two boys moved closer to each other, and only then did they both realized that they were both crying. Eren's eyes were that tender shade of green clouded with tears and, to this day, Armin could not get that image out of his head. What he remembered the most clearly was the moment he whispered 'I love you' to the boy across him, but the feeling of floating when Eren had whispered those three same words back at him. That was all they needed. Not an awkward kiss, or a hug, or any other words - that would have made they goodbye even more painful.
And so, Eren left. He occasionally wrote letters informing Armin of his shenanigans and vague clues of his whereabouts (since some information was classified). Although it wasn't the same as hearing him speak and meeting face-to-face, it still made Armin smile. He had no idea what brought them together – a pitiful sentimental and a fighting spirit - at a glance, there was no match. Yet there they were; together.
Wiping his tears away, Armin stood up from the bench. He held his books close to his chest, his arms hugging them tightly and he gave a determined sigh. There was no way he was going to be sad again - not for Eren's sake. The blue-eyed boy smiled warmingly for the first time in a long time, his mind focusing solely on those three words Eren had whispered to him and written to him countless times. He began to walk home once again. He hoped - No, he knew that Eren was going to be back. They were going to be back together. The two just needed to be patient and pray that he'll come back home soon.
But, oh, how wrong he was. |
619ae19d51d0441a8abff1830e789139 | ['4edd7bd789244b39b65ebbfe7372c41b'] | I made my way up the stairs and headed to my room, going for the big closet. This time I looked for a bikini, which wasn't very hard to find as this wardrobe had its own swimwear section. I selected my favorite one and went downstairs, covering myself with my towel.
I arrived downstairs, seeing the door to the back side was open. I walked towards it, slightly nervous and made my way to the immense jacuzzi area where Jack was waiting for me. Jack. It felt so weird to think of him as a..Jack. I let my towel down, and stepped inside the Jacuzzi.
"Why hide yourself when you look..magnificent?"
"Look who's using big words!"
"You keep underestimating me." He said, as he handed me a shot of vodka.
We both chugged it and made the same, nasty face at the taste of the liquid. He quickly poured another one and we repeated the process.
"Thanks for saving me J."
"It was all part of the plan, even I knew Harley would come. It was all planned. To take them down. One.by.one." He said,showing a scary grin.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I wasn't sure if I could trust you just yet, but you were great help, and I'm thankful of that."
We chugged another shot, feeling less sober shot by shot. I felt more comfortable after a certain amount of time, and became more and more honest with J.
"So was Harley like..your ex?" I laughed loudly.
"Something like that,she means nothing now."
"Are you gonna get yourself a new psycho gf or what?"
He patted my cheek, like he usually did and looked at my eyes for a long time. My heart was beating so fast i was certain he could hear it. It was a strange unknown feeling. He was so close, it would've made me sweat if it wasn't for the jacuzzi. His eyes had some sort of innocent look through them, reflecting a sadness I could also feel. I almost lost myself in his beautiful eyes until I was cut out of my fantasy by his lips, locking onto mine. He aggressively grabbed my body and helped me over so I was sitting on his legs, still kissing him. I wrapped my arms around him and grabbed his hair, still feeling his broken lips on mine. I could feel his hands on my back, pulling hard asking for more. That's when he slid his tongue inside my mouth, needing no permission to enter. I let the feeling overwhelm me and I drifted into the kiss even deeper, reaching serendipity.
9. Twist
I opened my eyes slowly, feeling refreshed and more relaxed than ever. I felt lightweight but slightly aching. I soon realised my head was on Joker's chest, feeling it go up and down as he breathed. I could easily see his chest tattoos as my head was resting on the one where many Ha-Ha's were written all over. I also realized neither of us had clothes,making last night's memory pop into my head. We did it. It was so passionate and aggressive, just like I would expect from J. He left me many love bites here and there, and i must've left him many back scratches.
"Is my pumpkin awake already?" I heard a sleepy, deep manly voice.
"Morning J." I said, smiling at him with a painless smile for the first time.
He sat up on the bed, stretching his arms widely. His hand rested on my face and his eyes locked into mine. He was now so close I could smell the hangover breathe sweeping under my nose. He gave me a small peck on the lips and swung out of bed, reaching for his boxers. He was beyond beautiful, his pale skin almost glowing with the hint of sunlight outside.
"What's part two of the plan, J?" I asked, also getting up.
"Well, we now need to take someone else down."
"Who is it going to be?" I mouthed as I put my robes on to cover myself up.
"God knows, but this time, let's try not to attract too much attention."
"Wise man." I laughed, pushing him a little on the shoulder.
We headed downstairs quickly and made our way to the kitchen. I looked at the clock and read 3pm. We slept a long time, we must've drank a lot. It didn't matter, my life started making sense now, and that was all that mattered to me.
I sat on a chair and simply looked outside,admiring the life I now cherished. How could anything go wrong?
****
I was lying down on the couch, Joker's head resting on my laps as I played in his hair. I couldn't help but smile widely when watching the news,everything I had made me feel like a queen. I loved him.
As I was thinking about each and every little thing I loved about my life, I was interrupted by a large bang on the door. I jumped which made J stand up straight as a bullet. I saw the look of panic in his eyes, meaning for once he didn't know what to do. I went straight to the cupboard near the fireplace and took out some sharp knives and stayed wary. J took a big piece of metal hanging inside the armoire and stood in front of me, waiting to see who was behind the doors. It only took a few seconds before the door burst open, many cops in formation, each having a gun in their hands. It was clear our weapons had nothing against their guns, but nevertheless, were were doomed. The man in the front pulled his gun into Js direction, looking rather alarmed.
"Put your weapons down!"
"What do you want..?" J asked, seemingly curious and amused.
"You both are heading with us." The cop yelled.
"And where would that be, huh?" I said, trying to act confident. | f829e4e5266748e1ac1540a816daad17 | ['4edd7bd789244b39b65ebbfe7372c41b'] | -Now when I call your name, you will come sit here and be sorted into your houses. But firstly, Mister Thomas Jay Wilson, a transfer student from Australia will go before we start with the first years, as he is in third year, and must sit with his fellow third years. So please mister Wilson?
Thomas stepped up near the stool and sat, waiting for the brown act to be placed on his head. As soon as the hat dropped on his hair, he heard a voice.
-Ah,what a strange combination we have here. But it is clear you only belong to one house, we have a pure SLYTHERIN!
And the far right table clapped loudly. In the crowd of Slytherins, Thomas could easily spot Draco, so he rushed towards him to sit with his new friend. As he is the only person he knows along with Crabbe and Goyle, it was fitting that he sat with them.
A girl with arched eyebrows and full lips looked at Thomas with a big smile on her face.
-Hi, my name is Pansy Parkinson. Welcome to Slytherin, were happy to have you!
-Thank you gorgeous. So tell me, what is special about “slytherin”?
Pansy didn't seeme to have noticed her blush of a very bright tint of red as she spoke back.
-Its the best house, we win at everything, except now that Potter is here, our reputation is even more tainted then before. But like our house logo, the snake, we are sly and cunning, we are known to be ambitious and using every way possible to achieve our goals. Because there is no way a Slytherin can fail, or be wrong.
-That sounds like me for sure. And im not quite sure i heard you correctly…Did you say Harry Potter was here?
-Yes.. He is at the Gryffindor table. (She pointed at Harry) He is the star of the school, the savior of all students and the youngest seeker in the history of Hogwarts.
-Impressive.
-Barely.
They continued talking over the meal, which grandly impressed Thomas with the huge variety of food available. He met some of his fellow classmates at his table. Blaise Zabini , Theodore Nott ,Millicent Bulstrode , Pansy Parkinson just to name a few. Thomas had a particular liking of Theodore Nott, on the other hand, both sharing a wide range of likes. What intrigued him the most was, Notts particular liking in recreational drugs, which was something that drew Thomas closer.
Both boys spoke for a long time, all the way down through the dungeons and into the common room. It was Theodore that showed him everything he needed to see, shared his first line of coke in Hogwarts and led him to his new bed in his dormitory. The same dormitory was shared with Theodore, Draco and Blaise, which reassured Thomas to a certain level, knowing he knew all of his dorm mates already.
After settling down, the three boys looked at Thomas, but Blaise was the first one to speak.
-So, hows Hogwarts so far Australia boy?
-Better than my old school, I quite like it.
-What did you guys do in that school anyways? Asked Draco.
-Loads of parties after curfews, but the course was the same. We had our Quidditch teams and some other boring clubs.
-Parties? We have to try this for sure. Said Nott.
-Yeah I mean, once im familiar with faces here, it would be awesome to throw one.
****
It was the first morning in Hogwarts for Thomas and everything seemed normal yet different. It was the same routine as his old school, but new faces. He surprisingly enjoyed the new people and most of all he liked having Harry Potter in his class. He was an interesting boy with a big story to tell, and that was something he was striving for.
The last lesson of the day was his favorite, Defense against the dark arts. This year, Hogwarts apparently had a new teacher as usual, his name was professor Lupin. Thomas entered the class and took a seat beside Theodore and Draco.
-Welcome to Defense Against the dark Arts third years. My name is Professor Lupin and I will be your teacher. Now this year, we are introduced to dementors, by the fault of Sirius Black, so today we are going to practice how to fight our fears. Anyone knows what a boggart is?
A girl with brown curly hair spiked her hand in the air the second he asked the question.
-Yes, miss..?
-Granger sir. A boggart will take the for of anyones greatest fear.
-Correct. Now, I will teach you the spell to counter it. Repeat after me, no wands please, Ri-ddi-ku-lus!
The class repeated, maybe around 5 times just to get the spell well incrusted in their memories.
-Everybody line up. Behind this cupboard lies a boggart. When it comes to your turn, your say the spell correctly, and so on, to the next person. Am I clear?
"Yes professor"
Many students went , showing their fear to everyone in the class. Some feared spiders, snakes, bugs, lightning, blood and so on. It was interesting to see, and also a way to get to know people better. Then came Thomass turn. Knowing his only fear was clowns, a very scary one that looked like he was ready to murder appeared in front of him. Trying not to show his utter terror towards it, he shouted the spell as soon as he recovered his voice and the clown suddenly lost all of his makeup and was now wearing a dress, which made him look beyond hilarious.
The day was soon wrapped up after a long enjoyable feast and all that was left was to sleep and await for another great day. |
e0c8ae55f62f4909b483db07bede9837 | ['4f0b98bea41d4f6998b2a5654154c83b'] | “Show me you’re sorry and suck my cock properly, bitch.” Taehyung pushed his head back down, and Jeongguk opened his mouth again.
This time around, Jeongguk is more being guided by Taehyung than doing it independently. The student had his hands planted firmly on the hardwood floor, gripping the ground with his fingers. Once the professor’s cock was in Jeongguk’s mouth again, he wasted no time sinking down to his previous location, this time with a little more pressure applied to his head. Jeongguk kept taking more in until he was at the hilt, Taehyung groaning when the student gagged and his throat spasmed around the man’s length. Tears were now openly streaming down the younger boys face, trying his best to focus on breathing through his nose. He swallowed around the professor’s dick, nose being tickled by the trimmed pubes. Taehyung growled before pulling Jeongguk’s head all the way back up, allowing him almost two seconds to breath before thrusting back into his mouth. Jeongguk let out a surprised whine as his face was forced down, gagging again as his eyes bulged. Taehyung bucked his hips up unexpectedly, causing Jeongguk to choke as his professors cock was forced farther down his throat.
A brutal pace was set from the beginning as the older man fucked into Jeongguk’s throat; the younger male tried his best to breathe through his nose as his mouth was abused, his jaw beginning to ache as drool dripped from his lower lip and pooled on the ground. Taehyung was unrelenting, not pausing his almost animalistic pace for one second. Absolutely obscene squelching noises echoed through the empty lecture hall, Jeongguk allowing his eyes to roll back and take the almost abusive throat fucking. Hell, he was even enjoying it after a while. Enjoying the dull ache in the back of his jaw, the delicious groans and snarls of predatory possessiveness that spilled from his professor’s sinful lips, even the sensation of having his throat completely full. It was when his wiggled his hips slightly on the ground that he realized he was hard. Jeongguk continued grinding his pelvis against the ground, little whimpers of pleasure vibrating on Taehyung's cock and causing him to let out a groan.
Jeongguk continued grinding, the minimal friction building up the coil in his gut. He continued until he let out a little-too-loud moan and Taehyung averted his eyes to the sight. Jeongguk with drool pooled at his thighs, slick strings of saliva dripping down his chin and mingling with the tears that flowed down alongside them. His lips were red and swollen around Taehyung’s girth, his hard-on evident through the grey sweats he wore. There was already a small wet patch at the front of the pants from precum, Jeongguk letting out small whimpers as he desperately rutted against the flooring. Taehyung pulled the student off his cock with a surprised gasp from the younger, Jeongguk glancing up at his professor with half-lidded eyes. Taehyung took a minute to appreciate his handiwork; the drool slicking up his puffy, bright red lips. The tears sticky around his puffy brown doe eyes, the pupils in his eyes blown from lust. Jeongguk continued grinding his hips, whines growing in octave as he continued.
“Dirty fucking whore. Did you seriously get off on me throat-fucking you? Love my cock that much, _princess_?”
Taehyung ran his fingers through the Youngers boy hair gently before slapping him across the face. Jeongguk released a pained whimper, sounding almost like a dog that had been stepped on. Taehyung laughed at the student’s dazed expression before extending his foot and stepping on Jeongguk’s clothed erection. The boy keened loudly, biting his lip to prevent any more noises from escaping him.
“I asked you a question, baby. Fucking answer me.” Taehyung dug the heel of his Gucci dress shoe into Jeongguk’s crotch.
The student nodded his head vehemently, Jeongguk eventually grinding into the pressure and resting his head against the professor’s slacks. The boy let his mouth hang open as he rutted even quicker against the shoe, letting out a breathy moan before stopping. He sat there for a minute or two, desperately panting to catch his breath before Taehyung withdrew his foot.
Jeongguk was still shaking from the aftershocks of his orgasm when Taehyung pulled him up from under the desk by his hair. Jeongguk allowed the professor to manhandle him like a rag doll, picking him up by the thighs and dropping him on his desk. The professor violently grabbed the waistband of his student’s sweats and tugged them down along with his briefs, reveling Jeongguk’s already hardening cock and the mess he had made in his pants.
“Did you come in your pants? From rutting against my foot like _a bitch in heat_?” Jeongguk whimpered in acknowledgement, hesitating for a couple moments before nodding his head yes and shamefully looking at his feet dangling over the edge of the desk. He could hear Taehyung laughing silently, the man towering over him as he lazily stroked himself.
“Sir, I want...” Jeongguk licked his lips before swallowing heavily, trying to soothe his now raw throat; his voice came out raspy and forced. Jeongguk’s breath hitched in his throat when he looked up and noticed Taehyung thumbing at his slit.
“You _want_? What do you want?” Taehyung moved forward, placing his arms on either side of Jeongguk’s hips and caging him in on the desk. Jeongguk licked his lips.
“I want you to fuck me, t-till you come...Puh-please, Sir, I need it, so fu-full, make me full, I—“the younger boy interrupted himself with a needy whine, lying down on the desk and spreading his legs. Jeongguk roamed his hands over his thighs and half-hard cock, letting out a sigh at the physical contact. | cd49c8dc56fa4fb8886f9e315c05c177 | ['4f0b98bea41d4f6998b2a5654154c83b'] | Jeongguk could hear one of his teachers rummaging around a bag, assuming it was Taehyung considering the fact that he later handed it to Hoseok. Hoseok uttered a quick thanks before smoothing a hand over Jeongguk's ass and slapping over the blooming bruises. The student gasped at the dull sting, thinking that these were definitely gonna leave bruises.
He managed to hide the smile threatening to come onto his face at the thought.
Jeongguk heard a faint click of a bottle and registered what it was once he felt the cold. Hoseok was pouring ( _excessive amounts_ ) of lube over the students ass, watching as the wet liquid slid down the crack of Jeongguk's ass and rolled down his supple thighs. Shivers ran down the boys spine at the cold sensation, grabbing at the end of the desk. Jeongguk mewled when Hoseok unexpected jabbed a finger into him, quickly reaching the last knuckle.
Jeongguk adored his dance instructors long, bony fingers; adored them even more inside of him. Hoseok used his free hand to jerk the students head up by the hair, causing the boy to endure the painful arch in his back. Hoseok spent his time exploring Jeongguk with one finger, pulling the digit out completely before forcing in three.
The boy yelled at the unexpected entry, knuckles turning white from the force of his grip. Hoseok released his head, Jeongguk dropping his face down and trying to catch his breath. The dance teacher wiggled his fingers inside for a while, trying to give Jeongguk time to adjust to the stretch before moving his hand.
The stretch was still pleasantly burning when Hoseok pulled out the three digits and thrusted them back in, beginning to finger fuck the student at a steady pace. Small mewls and quiet whimpers spilled from Jeongguk, the blissful noises growing in octave as Hoseok got rougher and Jeongguk got closer to his climax. Hoseok angled his hand differently, making Jeongguk practically scream when the mans slender fingers rammed right into the boys prostate. The dance instructor laughed, continuing to massage the boys sweet-spot.
Jeongguk's thighs were shaking violently as Hoseok used three fingers to abuse the males prostate. He’d already deteriorated to a sobbing, babbling mess; tears freely flowing down his flushed face and bitten lips whimpering incoherent pleads. Hoseok smacked the crying boys ass again, the sting barely noticeable through the white hot heat pulsing through his body. The coil in his stomach was winding tighter and tighter and _tighter_ , and Jeongguk could feel himself getting to his high.
His neglected cock hung heavy between his legs, twitching pathetically when it gets the tiniest friction against his art professors desk. Hoseok took pity on the boy, using his free left hand to jack him off lazily. The skin-on-skin contact was all he needed to finish, mewling loudly as he came. Cum painted the boys flat stomach, some strings landing on the edge of his teachers desk. Hoseok hissed as the boy clenched around his fingers, slipping the long digits out of Jeongguk's ass and bringing them to the boys mouth. The student mindlessly obeyed, taking two fingers into his mouth and sucking off anything on them, weakly whining as he tasted himself.
Hoseok walked to Jeongguk's face, stroking his jaw soothingly as Jeongguk still felt the aftershocks of his orgasm. The boy almost purred, rubbing his cheek against his dance teachers hand affectionately. Jeongguk opened his mouth to ask where taehyung went when he cut himself off with a harsh moan.
His ass suddenly felt full, his rim stretched painfully around something. Around Taehyung's cock, to be exact.
The professor had gotten behind him when he wasn’t looking, taking the opportunity to thrust violently into the boy. Unlike Hoseok, Taehyung gave Jeongguk 0 adjustment time, sinking into the hilt and pulling out almost immediately only to ram back in. The pace was absolutely brutal from the beginning, Taehyung gripping his students slim hips with a death grip as he savagely pounded into him. Jeongguk scrambled to grab onto anything, one hand scrunched up into Hoseok's shirt and the other squeezing the side of the desk.
His body was rocked by the sheer force of the older males thrusts, the slap of Taehyung's balls against Jeongguk's ass lewdly echoing through the office. The slaps mingled with Jeongguk's ragged cries, drool trailing down the boys chin and pooling underneath him, along with tears.
Hoseok yanked Jeongguk's chin, tilting his head up to face the dance instructor. Jeongguk looked up at his teacher with a half-lidded glance, eyes glazed over and dazed. Hoseok wore a sinister grin, smearing the drool around Jeongguk's chin onto his cheek before spitting on the boys face. Jeongguk winced as the foreign spit rolled down this forehead, some lying uncomfortably on his eyelids and some lying on his cheek. Hoseok snickered, running a thumb through the saliva and smudging it around Jeongguk's entire face.
“You like Taehyungs cock? He making your cunt feel good, babygirl?” Jeongguk vehemently nodded, opening his mouth and allowing his tongue to loll out. Taehyung kept up with the borderline violent thrusts, breathing heavy as he dug his nails into the boys hips.
“I expect an answer, princess.” Hoseok said too cheerfully, stroking the boys spit covered cheek before pulling back his palm and slapping Jeongguk across the face.
The student whimpered, starting to talk before Hoseok back-handed him with the same hand. Jeongguk hiccupped as he sobbed harder, relishing in the hot sting left on his face.
“Yes s-sir! I love it, Professors co-cock, so good, so good, m-my pussy— _ah_ —pu-pussy feels so go-good...puh-please, Sir, give me m-more, I, I want— _mmh!_ —c-cock, my mouth, I wa-want your cock in m-my mouth! Pu-please, Sir, I need—“ Jeongguk begged desperately, locking eyes with his dance instructor and opening his mouth wide. |
bf0963701f0742099e83794ef6ede641 | ['4f30b46aaaac4537a44a00ef7d7c08b4'] | With a sigh of successful scavenging, startling her out of her perusing, Derek returned, a small white box clutched in his hand. Silently, he sat down on the mattress next to her, staring confused at its lid.
"Not many times we actually need to use this."
He popped open the top and combed through a very limited array of bandages and gauze. A travel-sized bottle of hydrogen peroxide appeared in his hand, and Stiles cringed. Using a hand towel, the werewolf clumsily poured half the bottle onto the rag, earning a snort from her nose.
"Throw me a bone on this? I'm a beginner."
Stiles raised her eyebrows, seriously questioning how he could not see the humor in that statement.
With a "are we doing this?" look in his eyes, he determinedly pressed the cloth to the body art on her back.
"Son of a motherfreaking-"
She bit her knuckles as he dabbed around the wound, removing any bacteria. The sizzling from the chemicals stung so hard her head spun. "Dammit, that crap burns!"
"Well, next time, don't go cruising around in that crime against automobiles at 2 am, begging to be an alpha pack's bitch." He muttered under his breath.
"That car has character. And her name is Lela."
"I can't believe you named your car after a Star Wars Character."
"I can't believe you knew it was from Star Wars."
Stiles took the questionable attempt at conversation as a brooding werwolf's shot at comforting her. She decided to, as he put it, throw him a bone (seriously, that is too hilarious) and did her best to hold back her outbursts.
The treatment fell into a strange silence as Derek finished sterilizing the scratches, even patching up some older injuries, and found a clean swatch of gauze to put on top of the open wound. Her open wound. Her tattoo. Stiles sure wished that this tattoo would wondrously heal like Scott's. She didn't have any self-sacrificing story about a still-loved ex that made girls swoon. No, just an idiot decision to not wait for her dad after work because she wanted to grab some forbidden curly fries. From the vibe she was getting off of Derek, he was feeling the same regret. Or maybe he was just tired of having to take care of her annoying problems along with his own. She couldn't tell. But she did know his coarse fingers were surprisingly gentle as he taped the bandage on, lightly pressing it to her skin. After tossing the garbage into the trash, Derek put the kit away and brought her the previously offered henley.
"You have this in a Batman print?"
"Funny." He muttered.
Stiles grinned, gently tugging the worn fabric over her head.
By the time her visibility returned, Derek had left. Or at least she thought.
"What are you doing down there?" She scooted closer to the edge of the mattress, spotting the top of his head. He was propped up against the bed frame, arms crossed over his chest, eyes on the entryway.
"Go to bed Stiles."
"I'm not going anywhere, you know. You said it yourself that this was the safest place to be." She heard a low howl nearby, but felt the familiar warmth of a friendly call. It was an assurance that she was protected, but a warning to enemies to run away with their tails between their legs. "and I feel pretty safe." She grabbed the lone pillow from the head of the bed and flopped it down at the foot of the mattress. She didn't know why, but this Derek, the one whose face was lit only by the scattered rays of daybreak rising through the window, felt gentler. Safe enough to approach without a yard stick. "So it's all right, dude. Get some sleep. I'll be here in the morning."
He didn't move from his spot on the floor, so Stiles poked his shoulder.
"Come on, sourwolf. Sleepy time."
"Did Cora ever talk to you about pack ties?" Derek's pale green gaze never strayed from the doorway, "about the bonds between its members?"
"Yeah," she replied, slightly confused, "How when you lose one, it feels like you've lost a limb?"
He didn't meet her eyes, but nodded. "The night Scott called and told me you hadn't come back from the Sheriff's station, when we found all of that blood in the front seat." His eyebrows came together as if he was torn apart. "We thought you were dead, Stiles."
She would never learn of Derek's behavior those 14 days. The increasing irritation when Scott and Issac would come back after hours of nonstop searching, only to return empty handed. The restlessness during pack meetings and the little movement he made towards the entrance anytime the door opened. His frustration grew worse day-by-day, despite refusing to admit to the fact of how worried he was. This was Stiles. Scott's little pal whose life he had committed to ruining since the moment they met. There was no way he would care.
But it was obvious.
Her disappearance was crushing him.
Still, he has adapted enough in his life to hide those feelings from the only one who needed to see them the most. The only thing Stiles saw was that he carried a deep, painful regret.
This side of Derek wasn't one Stiles liked. She saw it with Boyd and Erica, how he seemed to hate himself and every part of him that ever turned under the full moon.
"What does that have to do with pack ties?" She asked.
"When I thought that you died, it felt like a small bit of me disappeared. "He coughed, scrunching his eyebrows and staring at the hallway. "Not a limb, but maybe a few fingers or something." He sighed, like what he was going to say was a burden. "You're important to me, idiot, so don't go getting abducted by lunatics again. Please." | e4192a7b1dcc4d9aae242525525a0e09 | ['4f30b46aaaac4537a44a00ef7d7c08b4'] | Mr. Break It
**Author's Note:**
> Hi! Rachel here! I've been wanting to write a New Girl Fanfiction for a REALLLYYY long time, and since there is an apparent lack of Nick/Jess Fanfics, I decided it was finally time after watching the episode "Table 34." I hope you guys like it :)
"Sam is the kind of guy who fixes things, that you didn't even know were broken. And Nick's the kind of guys who breaks things, that are.., He BREAKS things!"
The small brunette gently shut the door behind her as she walked into her bedroom, poorly lit by only the small lamp on the wooden table next to her bed.
Racking her brain for any logical explanation of what occurred only minutes before, Jess felt the carpet in between her toes, as she walked to her bed, only to collapse onto the comfort of her flannel sheets in a fit of exasperation.
"Mr. Break it". That's what she always called the man across the hallway. He never gave up a chance to try to fix something that wasn't broken, never failing to run it into remission. Whether it was a slightly leaky faucet, or Jess' own scarf, handmade for her grandmother, Nick Miller always found a way to break something.
Glancing at the door through the darkness of the room, Jess laughed. She couldn't believe that Nick Miller got in between her and another great guy.
Her hands reached up to her lips as a sigh escaped from between them. She wanted so badly to be mad at him. She should have been slamming her hands against his door, red faced, demanding a better reason for him ruining every chance she has with a guy. But, Mr. Break It struck again. And she couldn't find it in her heart to be angry with him.
Feeling the round material against her thigh, Jess realized she was still in jeans and a sweater, and rose from her bed to put on her pajamas, with no plans to sleep in the clothes she wore that she threw on after coming home that evening. As her fingers grasped for the soft comfort of her red flannel bottoms that were strewn across her chair this morning, a glimpse of olive green yarn caught her eye.
Lifting up the tattered, lame excuse for a scarf in her small hands, Jess smiled, recalling the night that Nick had "broken" her grandmother's scarf that she had spent all day making.
Setting down the half-drinkin wine glass she had been holding, Jess rubbed her temples. After spending four hours, on the worn out sofa, knitting a scarf that was already supposed to be finished, Jess was a little more than peeved when she realized that she now had to create a new one.
With Dirty Dancing, her favorite movie for times like these, drowning out all other sound in the loft, Jess, once again, picked up the knitting needles, resting on the oak table, and got back to work.
'Loop one, Purl two. Cross twice and ball under.' Creak. Came footsteps behind the now frustrated brunette, but being so focused she didn't notice the scruffy man in a blue flannel walk up behind her. 'Purl twice and cast off.' Creak.
Surprised is putting Jess' reaction lightly as wad of olive green yarn, haphazardly strung together, fell lightly around her shoulders.
The climax of Dirty Dancing was muffled by Jess' screeching as she whipped her head around, assuming that she was going to be killed with yarn. Although her favorite movie of all time was playing in front of her, Jess paid no mind to Jennifer Gray pouring her heart out to Patrick Swayze, when she locked eyes with Nick Miller. Looking up at the man in front of her, Jess noticed that, despite the expression, most resembling a turtle, on his face, there was still regret in his eyes.
"I'm sorry Jess." mumbled Nick, and although she knew that she was supposed to be mad at him, when she noticed the Bandaids on his hands, and fingered the green yarn around her neck, Jess realized that there was no way she could be.
"Come on and watch the end of Dirty Dancing with me, Turtleface."
Because although he infuriated her to no end, Nick Miller had a bad habit, of always being the one to make her smile in the end.
She gingerly rested the green pile of yarn on the chair where she had picked it up from moments before and layed down on her bed.
Tiptoeing down the creaky loft floor, Jess made her way to the bathroom, the next morning, to find, none other than Mr. Break It, himself, standing over the sink, with his toothpaste and brush in hand. Taking in his light blue sweater and flannel sweats, she realized that this was their climax.
The ball was in her court now, and she had to make a decision: To shut the door and run to her room, damning herself to awkward moments and a future free of Mr. Break It.
Or: To walk into that bathroom and pick up her toothbrush, inviting a future full of Mr. Break It. A future with many more broken faucets, and destroyed scarves. A future filled to her breaking point, with Nick Miller.
Taking a breath, she stepped through the doorway.
"Good Morning, Turtle Face."
**Author's Note:**
> Good? Bad? Let us know! Can't wait to read your guys' reviews! 'Til Next Time! |
d46c94c4da60420f8f11b9532c2e2a45 | ['4f37844c7741426488738303052fa0fb'] | You frowned as you took in the scene for yourself. Ortiz was splayed out near a wall in the living room, riddled with claw marks and a gaping hole in his chest. Above him on the wall was a strange symbol written in what looked to be blood, lovely. The room itself was a complete mess; along with the ever-present mold was toppled furniture, broken picture frames, and a lamp that looked to have been thrown across the room. Claw marks similar to those on the body covered much of the furniture and walls.
"We would think it was some kind of wild animal attack, but..." Collins spoke and gestured to the symbol. It resembled a cross if the horizontal line was replaced by an arrow curving upwards.
"-wild animals don't leave cryptic messages written in blood," Hank finished for him, crossing him arms. You couldn't see a frown through his mask but knew one was there.
Trying not to gag, you crouched beside the body to get a better look. His chest, throat, and face all had jagged claw-like gashes of various depths but the hole in his chest was cleaner, and oozed an oily black substance. At this state of decay it would probably be impossible to identify postmortem wounds from antemortem, but it was hard to imagine someone had carved Ortiz's heart out so precisely while he was still alive.
"Red ice..." Hank grumbled from behind you, drawing your attention to the red crystals scattered nearby. "Seen it make people do some crazy shit but I think in this case it's the least of our worries."
You furrowed your brows. He was right, besides the obvious strange nature nature of the scene, and if you could focus past the suffocating stench of decay, there was a faint hum of magic that hung in the air. You might have written it off as Connor's presence if it weren't for the distinctive aspect it held- evoking cinnamon overwhelmed by sulfur. A brownie gone boggart, then. But you'd never seen a house boggart cause a scene like this before.
Brownies were one of the more common sorts of fairies especially for such an urban area. They would take up residence in particular buildings, usually homes, and were one of the more benign kind of fair folk, living in walls or tight spaces and creeping out only when no one was looking to tidy things up, tend to household plants, oil creaky hinges, or even do minor home repair work. Their brand of magic always left you with a feeling you could only describe as the taste and smell of cinnamon. At worst brownies could have a slightly mishchievious streak, but that was usually only if their efforts went unappreciated by humans. This was the reason you sometimes left milk under the precint's vending machine.
Brownies weren't completely harmless however. If a brownie never settled into home inhabited by people but took up residence in an abandoned building, old tree, swamp, or other wild place it was sure to become a wild boggart which could become very dangerous if they were old enough. Household brownies were not completely exempt from such a transformation. If a brownie was neglected it may become a minor household boggart, a process usually reversible if the problem was remedied soon enough. If it was outright mistreated it may become a more serious problem and become more and more dangerous over time.
You'd even seen bodies killed by household boggarts before, usually easily written off as accidents- medications having been switched around, a heavy object falling over at the wrong time. Never the claw marks this body shared with victims of wild boggart attacks. And the mold- no one could have lived like this so had it only appeared after Ortiz's death? Boggarts specialized in filth and decay, had the mold been part of an extreme boggart temper tantrum?
You shook yourself from your thoughts and followed Hank to the kitchen. The lieutenant swung open the refrigerator door to reveal a mostly empty interior aside from some odds and ends- rotten eggs that somehow added another layer to the all consuming odor, some moldy pieces of fruit. He pulled out a carton of milk and inspected it.
"Just our luck, it's in date and hasn't even been opened up yet. How much you wanna bet it's spoiled too?" Hank held out the carton and caught your eyes in an icy gaze.
You smirked invisibly under your mask and took the milk, "I'm not much of a gambler but quite a lot actually." Your suspicions were confirmed when you unscrewed the cap and broke the seal.
"Definitely a boggart then," you whispered.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> sorry this one took a while, honestly updates are gonna be pretty sporadic from me in general. This one would have probably come sooner but my dog passed away and I haven't been much in a creative mood after that. Sorry Connor's like barely in this one just being quietly in the background while MC mentally infodumps exposition but there will definitely be more of him in the next part ;) This whole thing might end up being a whole lot longer than I originally thought cause certain characters yet to properly show up seem to have minds of their own lol. And you can prob tell I've ended up incorporating the original cases from the game, however a lot is actually going to be pretty different about them and don't expect this to follow the timeline of the game super closely or at all I'm kinda just taking what I can use and spinning it to fit into this world I'm building.
4. Iron Pyrite
**Notes for the Chapter:** | 453b22ad9675428ea806256433eeee21 | ['4f37844c7741426488738303052fa0fb'] | These had a note attached. 'For Y/N' read the simple little card in a clean typeface. No signature, no handwriting, nothing to possibly identify who had left them. You frowned. It was a nice gesture and all, but who would do this? It had to be someone you knew, right? But you couldn't think of anyone at the department who would leave these, and let's face it you didn't have the most vibrant social life.
Then there would be Gavin's reaction. There was no way he was letting this go. You had half a mind to do away with the arrangement somewhere just to escape the inevitable ridicule, but what if whoever'd sent them noticed and was hurt? Not to mention it would be a terrible waste to discard such a beautiful bouquet.
So the flowers stayed.
————
Later that day found you on your lunch break. You didn't really feel like going out so settled for what the vending machine in the break room had to offer. You were nibbling on some chips and idly scrolling through something on your phone when a thought struck you.
Connor had mentioned something before about flowers having symbolism or whatever- could the types of flowers you'd received possibly hold some meaning? Maybe even something that might indicate who they were from? You weren't sure how likely the idea was but it couldn't hurt to check out. What was break time for if not googling random stuff on a whim and ending up several tangents deep in into Wikipedia?
As it turned out yellow roses typically seemed to represent friendship, and gardenias could mean... secret love? You weren't sure if you found that romantic or slightly creepy. After all, Gavin had kind of been filling your head with ideas of stalkers and serial killers.
If the flowers meant anything did that mean a friend of yours was secretly in love with you? Or someone who saw you as a friend because you were too polite of a person- oh God was it really Tinfoil Terry?
"Is something bothering you, De- Y/N?"
You looked up to find Connor. Of course, ever-concerned about others it seemed.
"Oh, no, no, I'm fine. It's just..."
"Just...?" The android pulled up a seat at the table beside you, ready to listen to whatever was troubling you.
You sighed. "It's just," you gestured with one hand as if to articulate some point you couldn't find words for. "Someone left me flowers again," you explained.
"I see," Connor said in a way that betrayed he didn't really see at all. "Do you... not like flowers?"
You chuckled softly at his attempt to understand, knowing you’d done a pretty poor job of explaining yourself as usual. “No, it’s not that, they’re really beautiful actually. I just wish I had some idea who sent them. People always romanticize the idea of having a secret admirer, you know, but it’s only really romantic if it’s someone you’d be into anyway. I have no way of knowing if they’re some psycho stalker or something.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah I mean it’s kind of nice, the idea that someone was thinking of me, maybe likes me, but I wish I could just be sure it was someone who’s...”
Those concerned brown eyes blinked at you, urging you to continue.
You breathe a deep sigh. “Someone who’s normal. That’s all I ask. Just someone normal.”
—————
Peonies mixed with Narcissus came next. Another simple card accompanied them, creasing a deep frown into your lips.
‘I’m sorry”
What could that possibly mean? What did whoever sent these have to apologize for? You oddly felt a little guilty yourself. A feeling which only grew when you tried to find a deeper meaning in the blooms. They seemed to represent shame and unrequited love.
As you carried on with your day you couldn’t quite shake the feeling you were overlooking something important.
It was later you sat at your desk filling out some tedious paperwork that you noticed something odd. You’d been fiddling absently with the card that came with the flowers when the message caught your eye.
‘I’m sorry’ typed neatly across the paper.
Only, it wasn’t typed. As you looked closer you realized the words were in pencil. The handwriting was just so neat you had just instantly assumed... The writing was inhumanly neat.
And at that precise moment a neuron fired off somewhere in your brain allowing you to realize what a complete and utter idiot you’d been.
———
Connor arrived at his desk the next day to find something completely unexpected. A bundle of silk flowers lay on his desk, delicate simulacra of purple hyacinth and rainflowers. His thirium pump stopped as he read the note attached.
‘I changed my mind. Normal is overrated.’ |
da09917883da4cd0b0e1f203419f961d | ['4f39f1fbc58544b28ae6b7933d473445'] | He closed the door behind him and turned to follow the guard, swift steps were taken as he wished to get there as soon as possible. As they got closer to the room, he could hear another guard trying to pick information out of whoever it was. There was no response however, and it quickly became obvious to Anduin that he was the _only_ one who could get an answer out of him. His pace only increased at this, wanting to get whatever it was over with as quick as possible.
When he entered the room, he immediately froze, eyes widening before narrowing into a glare. He slowly moved and took a seat across from the intruder, arms folding on the table, glancing up at his guards he gave a simple "We'll be fine." to dismiss them, and once they left he could feel the anxiety turning to anger, and yet he kept a rather calm demeanor.
"It's so lovely to see you again, your highness." Wrathion purred, a cocky smirk on his lips. He sat rather comfortably in his seat as if he was a regular in the keep.
"Why are you here?" He asked, his voice coming off a lot harsher than he had meant for it to. Although who could blame him, this was _Wrathion_ he was speaking to after all.
A pout tugged at Wrathions lips, he brought a hand to his chest and to be honest, he looked pretty offended at Anduin's comment. "What? I can't come to see my old friend?"
With that comment, Anduin moved to cross his arms over his chest and let out a heavy sigh. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, did Wrathion really think that was an acceptable excuse? He knew there was a different reason that the Black Dragon was here, and he wasn't going to be fooled...not this time. He couldn't let his heart open again and trust easily, especially not when someone has such a track record of betraying others and causing issues wherever he went.
"You and I both know that's not why you're here.." he trailed off, brows furrowing. ".... and _don't_ call me your friend." He honestly didn't want anything to do with the other, not since the betrayal at Garrosh's trial.
Scoffing, he kept the rather cocky tone in his voice. "Maybe it is why I'm here." he mimicked the King's behavior as his arms fell over his chest, "And what do you mean i'm not your friend? I was under the impression that I was."
He really knew how to get on Anduin's nerves, didn't he? It was obvious he was getting irritated with the small movements of his face, how his lips curved ever so slightly into a scowl, the soft puff of breath he let out through his nose. And while he did try his best to be as diplomatic as possible, it was obvious that there were old wounds being reopened as they continued to speak. He could feel a lump in his throat, making it hard to even speak- his mouth opening before shutting quickly. Eyes drifting down as he tried to find the right words, searching his mind for something- anything to express just how irritated he was.
"Don't..." his voice trembled as he spoke, but there was a hint of anger intended with it. "Don't act like you can just betray me and my people, leave for years, and suddenly show up like you haven't done a thing." He closed his arms in tighter, almost as if curling into himself, and it seemed like he was a kid again. His heart aching an awful lot, he swallowed harshly to try and shove his feelings down, he couldn't let them spill into this conversation, he had to remain tough for the sake of protecting his kingdom.
"Anduin, you know that I-" Wrathion started out before being abruptly interrupted by the other.
"Stop. Just stop Wrathion." He hissed, he was trembling slightly now, eyes shooting up to glare daggers at the dragon. "I'm not here to play games, I would much rather be back in my quarters, or doing anything else than talking to _you_."
Recoiling slightly, Wrathion's features changed to those of surprise for a moment before going back to that regular, calm look he always seemed to have even in situations like this. It somehow only upset Anduin more that he didn't seem to care about anything that happened. Taking a deep breath, Anduin moved a hand over his face, rubbing at his eyes for a moment and silently cursing himself for losing his temper. He should be more calm, more behaved- but there was just something about this man that drove him absolutely insane. It was the old wounds prodding at him again, and he knew it. He needed to stop letting it affect him though.
After a few moments of silence, he realized that he had actually got Wrathion to listen to him. And that was when he started speaking once more, this time in a much more calm manner "Now, unless you have an actual reason for being here. I would much prefer not having to deal with you on top of everything else I have to do. I can't babysit you, Wrathion." he moved to stand, straightening the cuffs of his coat as he did so.
"Fine." Wrathion grumbled, slumping in his chair as he pouted. He was acting like a child who had lost a game, definitely a sore loser. "I figured I would see how you're managing as King.." he admitted.
This certainly caused a raised brow from Anduin, from his knowledge and dealing with Wrathion in the past, he knew this probably wasn't the only reason. But they were definitely getting somewhere, although his ache was still evident. "I'm managing just fine, thank you." He responded, turning on his heels as he planned to end this conversation, not really wishing to speak more on the subject. | f942fcd3cdae414594e85cd2dcce6ae5 | ['4f39f1fbc58544b28ae6b7933d473445'] | Jean's face grew a deep shade of red as he stared at Marco's chest, there were some pretty well-built muscles, even though he was somewhat skinny. Slowly he took in the sight of Marco's chest as the shirt hung there, only exposing a bit of his chest. Marco slowly slipped the rest of the shirt off, in a manner that was extremely attractive to Jean. Slowly, Jean put a hand out, running it over Marco's chest, covering the small indents and marks that were on his chest. There were a few spots that were shades lighter than his skin tone, causing Jean to pause on them, brushing just his fingertips across those marks. Jean let out a heavy sigh, knowing exactly what those were scars from, it was only obvious. He had been cut by something in the past two years that was deep enough to leave marks.
Turning his attention to the rest of Marco's chest, Jean stared at the freckles dotting down the side of Marco's body, Reaching out with his other hand, he traced his hand across the freckles, earning a small shiver from Marco. Stopping at Marco's hips, the other hand still on Marco's chest, Jean stared intently at his body, taking in all the small features. The way he had some freckled dotted across his chest, coming down towards his pants then stopping. Marco was watching Jean carefully, somewhat amused with the way Jean was reacting to all of this. Slowly Jean felt himself moving closer to Marco, practically face to face with him, he stared at Marco.
Marco gave a small smile to Jean before letting out a soft chuckle "Jean..." he said quietly.
"Y-yes marco?"
"You're so cute when you're flustered like this." bringing one of his hands up, he twirled a piece of Jean's hair in his hand.
Jean's face turned a brighter shade of red "Marco...dont say stuff like that." he pulled his hand away from Marco's chest and poked Marco's cheek.
Marco let out a small laugh "why not?"
"because you know how i get with stuff like that." he let out a laugh himself, enjoying this, it was nice having his best friend back again.
"Yeah, i know." Marco grinned, taking his other hand and placing it on Jean's face.
Jean immediately froze up at the action, staring upwards at Marco.
Marco pressed his forehead against Jean's smiling and closing his eyes as he did so.
Jean in turn closed his own eyes "It's good to have you back, Marco." he breathed out.
"It's good to be back, Jean." Marco moved his hands around Jean's waist, embracing him in a tight hug. Their bodies were practically touching.
Jean managed to somewhat snuggle his way into Marco's arms, missing the warmth of his friend after all these years. He could've kissed him right there and now, if it hadn't been for a knock at the door, which caused the two of them to jump at the sudden noise. Jean slowly slithered out of Marco's arms and made his way to the door while Marco tugged on his shirt and started buttoning it. Slightly opening the door, Jean looked at the person standing infront of him.
Commander Levi stood there, staring up at Jean "There's been an issue." there was a tone of seriousness in his voice. |
8ea4af6eb4a645c28a24512d8f3150be | ['4f6c6c5443384ab898c2b03d3a86b375'] | The blade just shines at him, glinting in the little light that filters through the canopy. The metal is hued golden, etchings into the handle delicately painted red. It isn’t an obscenely large axe, only a bit larger than one used to chop lumber. Katsuki scratches the back of his head, wincing when he finds a lump from the one-sided fight.
With no other choice, he reaches out, pulling the weapon closer and using it to help himself stand. He limps into the largest city in Araphen, the handle of his axe, Hauza, a familiar warmth in his palm.
WHERE THERE’S SMOKE – KINDLE
“Hey, Eiji, does this place look good?”
A redhead in a black shirt and brown pants, Eijirou, turns, shifting the large pack on his back. The girl ahead of him points at the food stand, steam and good smells wafting from it. He can feel his mouth watering.
“Definitely, Tsu.”
Tsu, or Tsuyu, smiles lightly, turning to the small stand. A man gets up and bumps into her as he leaves. He pushes past without apologizing and Eijirou turns to say something, but Tsuyu grabs his wrist and shakes her head. He sighs heavily as the cook turns around to greet them. The portly man looks genial until he sees the empty spot the rude man had just vacated.
“Damnable cur, ducking out without paying… Urgh. How can I help you two?”
The food is great and Eijirou looks in concern at the spot the cook had cleared next to them, where an empty bowl and no money had been left.
“Eiji, don’t worry about it.”
“How can I not? It isn’t-“ a jingling noise sounds from his other side where Tsuyu is. He turns to see her shaking a small coin purse that most decidedly isn’t theirs. “-right. …You didn’t.”
“I did. The cook doesn’t deserve to get stiffed by a jerk like that.”
“Well, yeah, but Tsuyu you can’t just…”
“Take money from someone who has the means but not the decency to pay?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose as Tsuyu counts out the coins. She leaves enough gold to cover their own meals and the rude man’s as well as a large tip. Eijirou decides this is another one of those times where he just has to let Tsuyu do her thing. He looks away as she pockets the rest. At least her sticky fingers had morals.
“C’mon, we’ve got to grab something for Kouka, just in case she didn’t find something to hunt in the forest.”
Tsuyu hops up from her stool, waving politely at the cook who looks like he might cry from gratitude. As they step out onto the street again, Tsuyu tugs on the strap of his bag.
“Hey, look at that guy… he doesn’t seem well,” she says, voice tinged with mild concern. And she’s right. The boy she sees in the distance looks ragged and beat up, without shoes or shirt. His light hair is dirty and matted with some blood and his wounds look fresh. Behind him, he drags a large axe.
Eijirou’s eyes flick up the street to see that the guy seems headed to the apothecary. He seems to at least have his priorities in order, so Eijirou sees no need to interfere with a guy who looks like he can cause some serious trouble. Even as he steers Tsuyu away, he keeps one eye on the axe-wielder out of caution.
WHERE THERE’S SMOKE – KINDLE
Ochako is grinning as she leaves the apothecary, hip pouch one vulnerary heavier. She checks again to make sure she’s got everything, walking without paying mind to anything around her. If she hurries, she can make it to the last arena fight of the day and determine a betting strategy for tomorrow. Then she could get as many vulneraries as she needed!
Her thoughts are cut off when she slams into another body, crashing to the ground. The vulnerary clatters out of her bag, thick glass preventing it from breaking. “Ugh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was… going.” Ochako looks up from the ground to the dirty bare feet in front of her. There’s mud and what may be blood crusted between the toes and she flinches away from the unexpected sight. She stands quickly, taking in the appearance of the boy before her.
“You damn well better be sorry! Watch where you’re going, you stupid girl,” an angry mouth forms on an equally angry face. A large bruise is darkening the side of the boy’s face, hidden just barely by dirty blond hair. A quick scan while he continues to yell reveals he has cuts and bruises all over his arms and chest which are inexplicably unclothed.
The next thing she notices is the hand clutched around a long-stemmed axe. He’s still yelling, so Ochako shoves her lone vulnerary out at him. Maybe he’ll shut up and let her live if she gives him something to heal himself up?
“I don’t need your damn handouts!” The vulnerary hits the ground again, rolling to a stop a foot away. Her hand stings a little and she clenches it into a fist. Enough of this.
“Oh, so you don’t have tons of internal and external bleeding? Excuse me, then,” she spits, glaring. She storms off, completely ready to be away from this frustrating boy that can’t accept a stupid vulnerary. Her brain is so hazed with rage that she barely registers that she is now out a vulnerary (her only healing potion!) having left it behind when it was smacked out of her hand. She arrives at the arena, still fuming, only to find out she’s missed the last fight. Nothing was going right today. | 43227ca153a34c4b90addcf85a3a91d7 | ['4f6c6c5443384ab898c2b03d3a86b375'] | “You did win the prize money, though,” Tsuyu says. Uraraka turns to her, confused. “I mean, Eijirou and I will be taking a fee for rescuing you both, but it was still pretty sizeable. I think it may have actually been more than was intended for the tournament, but-”
“Wait, you have the gold?” she perks up. Tsuyu nods and unlashes the bag. When she opens it, the four of them peer inside.
There was certainly gold inside, but also other items of value. Some lance heads and metal ingots shaped as though ready to be smithed, a tome or two, raw crystal used for making staves, and a couple rings and other pieces of jewelry. Eijirou sorts through the metalwork while Tsuyu counts out the coins. Uraraka flips through the tomes and Bakugou watches as she discards several. They have covers dyed blue and green. He narrows his eyes.
An Excalibur and a Fibulvetr?
Both were wind-based tomes, though some would argue that Fibulvetr was closer to making its own sect of magic in with its wintry blast. Ice wasn’t really an element of Anima, though. For a minute, Katsuki loses himself in the lessons of his youth, learning about the Magic Cycle and Anima Trinity. Light magic and by extension healing magic cleansed dark magic. Dark arts corrupted Anima, the earth and all its elements. Anima was too solid, too heavy for light magic, a natural, neutral set of forces, and thereby overwhelmed it. Anima itself broke down into fire, wind, and lightning, with lesser elements like water (and by extension, ice) and earth recognized but not strictly a part of Anima. He’d never really understood why water and earth didn’t count, but he assumed it was because the Trinity were more volatile and inconstant, things that could be created by man. He shuddered to think of any mage being capable of controlling the oceans or causing earthquakes.
“Here, Tsuyu, you can sell these.” Katsuki’s thoughts are broken by the mage girl’s voice. She easily hands over the powerful spellbooks. How could she do that? He knew she could _ use _ wind magic. Was she not proficient enough to cast the spells they contained?
Or was she already capable of casting them without the books?
Before he could follow that train of thought, before he could bring their battles back to mind, scraping for the evidence he knew he felt of her wind magic, Tsuyu jumps up.
“Whoa! These are pretty rare! We should definitely go on a shopping spree,” she giggles and Ochako- he really needed to figure out how he was going to refer to her in front of the others- gets swept up in the smaller girl’s planning.
Katsuki barely notices he’s still watching them when Eijirou’s elbow pokes him in the side. “We’ll let them do their thing and hit the armory instead,” the redhead says, tone modulated like they were sharing in some sort of ill-kept secret joke. “You probably want to replace that hand axe, at least.”
He finds himself nodding, fingers errantly scratching at the thin line of scab over his cheekbone.
WHERE THERE’S SMOKE – KINDLE
Ochako wonders for the what must be the fiftieth time since the group had set out from the barracks two days ago if this was a good idea. She’d managed to avoid much talk outside of casual pleasantries and input about the weather, where they would camp, who would do what task to keep them fed and safe for the night. But now, fully within the borders of Lycia proper, there are fewer risks of brigands and thieves.
Which leads her to the current predicament: an evening of relaxing around the campfire.
Tsuyu had produced some long-saved fruit leather now that they were likely to reach a town soon so she could restock. The kind girl hands a piece to each of her traveling compatriots, but Ochako notices when Eijirou breaks his in half to give back.
“I know all about your sweet tooth, Tsu,” he laughs as she tries to push it back towards him. “No give-backs.”
It’s rather sweet of the two of them and Ochako can’t help the soft smile that spreads across her face. It really has been a while since she was last in the company of good people. Speaking of…. Bakugou hunches nearer the fire than any of them, clearly not feeling the heat of the flames nor the tenderness of the moment between the pair from Bern. She still doesn’t have a handle on what his deal is, magic ability aside. He’s rude, condescending, and intrusive.
Yet she had also observed him to have good leadership skills, a sense of responsibility, and a great deal of intelligence. While clearly a melee fighter, he had more knowledge of magic than he was letting on. If his magic axe didn’t raise any flags, then his probing about her abilities was a dead giveaway. Tsuyu and Eijirou had never once questioned her ability to start their campfires without a tome, but she had seen Bakugou staring intently at her, eyes switching rapidly between the flames, her hands and her hip pouch where she carried the Elfire tome she found in the tournament treasure trove.
She’d have to be careful. The sound of more laughter brings her out of her thoughts and she refocuses on Eijirou.
“Honestly, when we first left Bern- oh come on, Tsu, they had to know by now- we barely slept at all. Kouka was a right mess, constantly alert until even she needed to rest!” Ochako could hear Kouka snort from her place in the shadows around their encampment. “Anyway, we finally found this cave in the mountainside, overlooking the border with Sacae. She didn’t like it, but I managed to convince Kouka to go in this dingy little hole in the wall so we could get some good shut eye.” |
56de49b2082b4359ace60c507f4b3f92 | ['4f72bee845954203bb03a3977cff478d'] | "Wolfsbane," Reyes hissed, and for a moment, Aaron could have sworn her brown eyes looked gold in the light.
* * *
The sun had just started to set and the moon was on the rise — a pale, milk-mild waxing crescent, a young moon, only a day or so past new — when all three of Derek's betas cocked their heads, eyes glowing gold, and turned to face the front door. So Stilinski crept through his darkened home and stepped out to find a man standing on his front lawn. The other man had a dark beard that, for a moment, reminded him of Derek, but his eyes were dark and his face was older. He was slightly shorter than Derek, stood completely wrong, but Stilinski had wanted to hope.
Not that he thought Derek Hale would ever leave Stiles in the clutches of hunters. They might be back in a denial stage, but Stilinski knew his daughter, had seen the look on the older man's face.
"Agent Rossi, right?"
The man nodded, took a step closer.
"Might as well come on in, then," Stilinski said.
"Call me David, for now," Rossi said when the door was closed. "I assume you're not the Sheriff in your own home?"
"Stilinski works," he told the other man. After an awkard moment, he jerked his head for Rossi to follow him, and took him to the living room. None of the betas had stopped tracing the stranger's location, and all of them stared at him with at least a mild degree of hostility.
"I'm actually kind of impressed by how inhuman Ms. Reyes managed to make herself seem," Rossi said. "Although all three of you are being incredibly un-subtle right now. Haven't seen this much head-cocking since the last time I took my labs hunting."
"He's not a wolf," Reyes said, apparently dismissing Rossi. Boyd wrinkled his nose, looking almost delicate, while Isaac flashed his eyes.
"No," Rossi said, agreeably, "but I was born into a large pack. You three are all bitten, I take it?"
"You say that like it matters." Boyd's voice was calm, but Stilinski could tell that he was as on edge as the rest of the betas. He'd brought Erica and Isaac by for dinner without more than a courtesy call, which was downright clingy behavior from the quiet man.
"It doesn't, but it explains a lot about the three of you." Rossi pointed at a chair. Stilinski nodded, and Rossi sat. "Reyes, you do remember your old olfactory senses? Because I've got a unit chief who's wondering how the hell you knew the house had been disturbed. And god, don't get me started on the Graham thing."
"We thought you knew," Reyes said with a shrug.
Rossi gave her a look that made no bones about what he thought of that answer. Stilinski spared a moment to wonder if impressive eyebrows were a secondary trait passed around werewolf packs, like some sort of stopgap measure. Like even if a werewolf's children didn't inherit the lycanthropy, they'd get terrifying brow ridge hair to compensate.
"No, Graham told two other members of my team that the last people your emissary was seen with were in her pack. She never called herself an alpha or a werewolf, but the language she used sounded less cult-like and more straight up delusional." Rossi scrubbed a hand along his face. "Does no one on this coast know how to stay hidden?"
"The Beacon Hills packs are usually better about it," Stilinski said. "I can't speak for the Graham or Sorkin packs."
"Not used to operating without your Alpha?" Rossi addressed the question to Isaac, whose eyes had turned gold again.
"Derek's been out of commission before," Boyd said, his voice soft, his tone reasonable. "So has Stiles. But they've never been completely out for the count at the same time."
Stilinski didn't mention those awful days during the Alpha Pack fiasco — days his daughter had spent holed up with either her friends or feverishly researching past tears, stinking of mistletoe and frankincense and a man's cologne, when he hadn't understood Stiles at all — when it seemed every teenager he laid eyes on had gone crazy. And Derek Hale had been conspicuously absent from the Sunday dinner tradition, instead seen laughing around town with the high school english teacher while Isaac stared, hollow-eyed, at his empty place.
"I understand that both your Alpha and your Emissary are missing," Rossi said, leaning forward in his seat. "But we need to contain this."
"Alright," Stilinski said. "Talk."
* * *
Time passes. Without windows or her phone, Stiles can't guess how much. Long enough for her legs to start to ache from stillness, long enough for Derek to put his head back together and pull away from her.
And, eventually, after two different hunters spend a shift in a folding metal chair, watching her, Geezer Veteran Hunter steps into the room again. He carries a bundle of zip ties and a duffel bag, and one corner of his mouth curls up as he matches Stiles's gaze. His eyes are the same flinty blue as Chris Argent's. Stiles tries to forget the comparison.
"Emissary Hale, if you'd please stand up."
The hunter presently in the metal chair — one of the young guys. This one has a tattoo of barbed wire that loops from his fingers up to his biceps — flicks his wrist, extending his electro-rod.
Stiles has to grip the wall to pull herself to her feet, and sags under the weight of her own vertigo, but she manages to stand.
"Alpha Hale, stay back. If you make any attempt at escape, we'll kill your emissary." Geezer Hunter's voice is clipped, professional. He might as well be discussing a standard medical procedure. "Emissary Hale, we're going to open the gate. Please step over the mountain ash line." | 0c1040852b164bd789eaa50c2c353a76 | ['4f72bee845954203bb03a3977cff478d'] | "You say this as if you are not a child now." She did not think it possible, but the concern deepens. His mouth curves ever downward.
"You know I am not." She watches him for another moment, and then says, "I suppose I mean to say I will miss this."
Cesare's brows arch up. He sits up, then, pulling away from her. His confusion and concern, his startlement, all are writ large upon his face. "Is this a riddle, sis?"
Lucrezia sits up, too. "Pope Innocent lies on his deathbed. Father will surely become Pope, and then I must marry. No one in Christendom will call themselves pleased to have a Borgia Pope; he will need alliances. Is this not so, brother? I do not pretend to understand politics, but —"
"Perhaps the Papal elections will run their course, and Father will —" But it is a foolish thought — surprisingly so, for Cesare — and she sees the moment he recognizes his own misapprehension. Even now, even this young, he must surely understand that the house of Borgia has only two options for survival: it may rise, or it may return to Spain.
And even returning to Spain may not save them.
"Father will become Pope," he agrees, at length, and gives a heavy sigh. "I will become what he wishes of me, and you will marry. And here today started so well."
Against all reason, it almost makes her laugh. Has today truly started? If this is a dream, it feels real. And yet she cannot conceive that this is truly happening. Are her brother's promises so grave, so vast, that she has been returned to —
To the last time in her life that she could have called herself bloodless and clean?
If anyone's could be, his could, she supposes.
Cesare turns to look at her at the sound of her laughter, and she shakes her head. "It's the way you said that. I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you." She smiles at him — for him — and then says, "Come, brother, help me up. I'm sure you must go to the Vatican, and Mother will be looking for me soon."
He pushes himself to his feet in the quick, graceful movements she remembers. He has always been full of grace, a startling smoothness and agility. It is not what one would expect from a priest or a bishop, nor even an archbishop. But she supposes it makes sense that he should be thus, with his long desire to be other than what he is.
Cesare pulls her to her feet with the same ease, and she laughs again, feeling light and free. She steps into his space with the swiftness and the delicacy of a dancer and places a kiss upon his cheek. It has been her habit for the last few years to let such kisses linger, and she does so today. His cheek is so soft beneath her lips, as soft as his hands, and she lets her eyes fall closed.
He, too, is yet bloodless, she realizes. If this is real, she wants both to rail at the good Lord, with all the fury of Job, that she must live her life over again — and to fall to her knees in praise of Him, for giving her a second chance. She can save him, maybe. She can save them both.
She can save them all. She can save poor, doomed Prince Djem, and Paolo, and Juan from himself, perhaps, if he wishes it. She can save Alfonso.
If this is real, it is, she thinks, the most perfect Purgatorio that God could ever have wrought for her.
#
The sense that this is a dream never quite goes away, but it does lessen with time. The things that follow are too logical, one following from another in clear lines. And slowly, slowly, she begins to accept that this world is real, or real enough that her disquiet matters not.
Her memories, though, do not fade, and she finds herself occasionally startling others around her. She has grown, since this day. Been married twice and borne a third man's son. She has saved men from poison, and committed murder, and it is so hard to make of herself less than she is. Even with Cesare, she must pretend, though not as much.
She speaks too much, she comes to realize, like a woman who has managed a household of her own, rather than a child who has never left her mother's home. She does not protest her innocence — or perhaps her ignorance — often enough. But these are things Lucrezia cannot make herself do, and so she contents herself to bite her tongue when her mother pulls her close and pets her hair.
"How much you have grown, in just a few short days," Mother says, and Lucrezia keeps her silence, because there is nothing she can say that will not sound mad.
Mother squeezes her and presses a kiss to her brow. "Try not to grow so quickly," she says, and now that she has been a mother, Lucrezia recognizes the ragged edge of bitter-sweetness in those words in a way she might not have, before. "I do not think I am ready for you to go from me."
"Perhaps I will not always be here, but I will always be your child," Lucrezia replies. She offers her mother an honest smile, though she suspects a shade of sadness in it, and adds, "I am not eager to be married and leave my family."
# |
d393bf6f6cff4811bbc04671ed7ad7e0 | ['4f7776529c5e45789c198ded6da75301'] | The girl had to smile at the question before she dramatically sighed in exhaustion. "Club activities once again eat away all of my social life. I can't even spend five minutes of lunch break with the new friend I made until one of the upperclassmen from the basketball club asks me for another copy of the new training regimen. Why can't you boys look after your stuff more carefully?"
She heard soft laughter at the other end of the line.
"On top of that, Dai-chan acts _like a diva_. But at least he's attending practice regularly again, so I shouldn't complain." She sat up and yawned. "Spending time with you and Kagamin really lifts his spirits. Keep up the great work." She gave the wall across from her a thumbs up.
The other end of the line was silent for a while. Satsuki looked at her phone. Had her her battery run out again? No, that wasn't it.
"Tetsu-kun?"
"I'm sorry I got lost in my thoughts."
"Well, it's getting late. Better go to bed now."
"You're right, Momoi-san. I wish you a good night."
"Good night, Tetsu-kun."
Hanging up, Satsuki gave her phone one last look before she put it away on her nightstand. After switching off the light, she laid down on her bed again, pulling the blanket up to her face. She really liked the soft winter night sky.
~
Daiki was crouching down to ruffle through the fur on Nigou's head. The small dog whipped his head around trying to catch his hand but wasn't able to, so Daiki ruffled his head even harder. When he heard a whimper, he let go, letting Nigou jump up to him trying to lick his face. The boy had to laugh. He let his hands run through the dog's sides and put him down on all fours on the ground again. The dog looked panting up to him, Daiki imitated him by sticking his tongue out as well. "Can't get enough of me, huh?" He mumbled with a mocking grin. In response, Nigou barked, spinned around on his spot before lying down on his side. "Tch, spoiled brat." He started scratching the dog's belly until it was lying down on his back completely.
"Nigou is not spoiled, he just likes attention." Tetsu said taking a drink out of the vending machine, the only source of light in their proximity. "Much like someone else I know."
Daiki looked up to the other one who was smiling down at him. _So what?_ Everyone liked a bit of attention. "You're one to talk, Tetsu." He picked up the dog and held him close to his own face. "Don't be so high and mighty and look down on us. Did you hear that, Nigou? He thinks he's better than us!"
In response Nigou just excitedly wiggled in his hands and licked him all over the side of his face.
Laughing, he let go of the dog and stood up again. He needed to watch his steps now with that ball of fur excitedly jumping around his legs. He looked back at Tetsu who took a sip of his newly acquired drink.
"So you and Kagami-kun are still playing together? He's always very excited after your matches."
"Ha! Of course that dumbass would be excited to get his ass beaten by the great me!"
In response Tetsu rolled his eyes with a huge grin.
"Just look at how excited Nigou is after having the honour of playing with me!" He couldn't resist and crouched down again to run his hands through the thick fur. The dog was more than happy about the extra treat.
Tetsu, on the other hand, was awfully quiet during this distraction. In the corner of his eyes, Daiki could only see his unmoving legs in front of him.
He sighed. "He's getting better, if that's what you're asking about. Maybe he's even able to reach a tie between the two of us by the end of high school." He stood up again and dusted off his pants. "Not that I'm planning on letting him win, though."
He looked back at Tetsu who was staring ahead lost in thought. Weird for him to space out like that.
Daiki cleared his throat which made the other one's eyes snap back to his. They stared at each other for a while. Daiki noticed how Tetsu was chewing on his lower lip. He almost felt like reaching out to him.
"There is something I've been meaning to tell you, Aomine-kun, but I couldn't really find the right words for it… or the right timing…"
Suddenly Daiki felt his heartbeat pick up in speed, he swallowed a huge knot that had somehow appeared in his throat.
After the brief silence, Tetsu broke eye contact. "I have been thinking a lot about middle school this past year. And I feel like I owe you an apology."
The taller boy let out a breath that he hadn't noticed he was holding.
"I haven't been a good friend to you, when you needed me most. I have come to realize that. You've always done so much for me, yet I didn't know what to do when it was my time to be there for you. I didn't want any of this to happen, yet I stood by and watched you being hurt. I'm sorry. I know an apology won't make what happened undone, but I feel like I need to tell you this. The least I can do is to tell you how sorry I am. So here it is. I am sorry for what happened, Aomine-kun."
Daiki stared at the smaller figure. Someone had pulled the rug from under his feet.
"I hope you can forgive me, or at least accept my apology." Tetsu looked back up into his eyes. "I will try my best to be a better friend to you from now on." | 157ffeb61ce54042974efd0890cb6c82 | ['4f7776529c5e45789c198ded6da75301'] | After that break, things have gone back to normal. Aomine's skills were even more brutal now that Taiga had gotten used to his earlier slump. The other one had caught up to him in the blink of an eye, and now Taiga barely made it having worn himself out completely already.
He leaned on his knees to catch his breath when he suddenly noticed the dark colour of the ground, how his hair and clothes were wet. He had been so caught up in their game that he didn't even notice when it started raining. Rain's the worst. Especially a heavy rain like this. How was it not cold enough to come down as snow.
Aomine seemed to have noticed it just yet as well. He looked up at the sky and groaned. When he turned his attention back to the redhead, Taiga registered that he was staring at Aomine's drenched clothes clinging to his body. Taiga immediately averted his gaze.
"Shit, it's _freezing._ " Aomine announced and jogged over to the bench to wrap himself in his jacket.
Taiga collected the ball and went to get his stuff as well. When he put on his coat and wished for an umbrella, he noticed how the other one angrily held up his bag to shield himself from more rain while looking like an offended cat that had been forced to take a bath.
"Did you bring any spare clothes?"
"Why would I bring any spare clothes? I don't even break a sweat playing you, that's how much you suck."
"Come on." Taiga motioned him to follow and left the basketball court. "I will never hear the end of it if you catch a cold because of me."
"What?"
"You should know how Kuroko gets when he's angry."
"No, I mean where are we going?"
Taiga pointed towards some apartment complexes that covered the sight to his home. "I live over there."
"Ew why would I want to go to your place, Bakagami? It probably reeks of old socks and sweaty, unwashed clothes." He picked up in speed.
Taiga almost jogged to keep up with him until they were both running.
The shower was running, when the redhead chopped up some more vegetables for a quick curry. The rice was already cooking. He was hungry and not mean enough to make food only for himself, so a simple curry it was in the hopes of satisfying both of their huge appetites. Who would have thought that urging Aomine into the shower with some fresh clothes of his own and a towel would do the trick and let him work uninterrupted for a couple of minutes.
He dropped the last couple of vegetables into the pot and stirred when he heard the ruffling of clothes in the hallway, the other one standing there curiously watching him.
"Are you sure that's not toxic? I don't want to be lured into your home just to be murdered."
Taiga laughed at him. "You asked me what a _dryer_ is!" He doubled over from laughter.
" _Shutupshutupshutup._ "
"I wonder what Kuroko will say if I tell him that!"
"I SAID SHUT UP." He lunged at Taiga and caught him in a headlock.
" _NOT IN THE KITCHEN,_ YOU MORON." He urged away from the stove succeeding in making Aomine loosen his grip, swiftly turned around and somehow managed to grab him from behind, lift him off the ground and carry him into the living room. He was rather heavy and his helpless wiggling wasn't helpful either.
" _Oh my god,_ let go of me! I don't need your weird hands groping me and shit."
Taiga dropped him on the couch.
He laid there like a spoiled brat and crossed his arms.
Taiga took the remote and held it in front of Aomine. "You do know what a TV is, do you?" He asked slowly and carefully as if he was talking to a three year old.
"Shut up. Bet I know it well enough to find your stupid secret gay porn channel." He grabbed for the remote but Taiga lifted it out of reach.
"Didn't know you were so eager to find my secret gay porn channel." He dropped the remote on the other one's stomach.
Aomine switched through the channels, while Taiga was in his room taking some dry clothes and a towel out of his closet and went into the bathroom. After he locked the door, he pulled off his moist clothes, shoved them into the drier next to the other one's and turned the shower on. Letting hot water run over his body, he closed his eyes and relaxed. As much as he enjoyed the cold season, he wasn't really into the idea of catching a cold. But the cold season was exactly what made a hot shower even more enjoyable.
Suddenly out of nowhere he was very aware that the other one had used this exact shower just minutes before. He had felt puddles of water just outside the shower cabin that were definitely not his. His shampoo wasn't on its usual place. Heat rushed into his face. _What the hell._ Why should he even care. Why was he thinking about that.
When he left the bathroom clean, warm and dry, he checked on the curry. Almost done. Listening to an American commentator talk about baseball, he stirred the curry and switched off the rice cooker. Afterwards he went over to the living room. Aomine was lying sprawled over the whole couch, his eyes glued to the TV while he picked his nose.
"Make some space, fatass."
"Nah." He mumbled admiring the treasures he recovered from his nose.
Taiga glared at him for a while but all he got in return was being ignored. "Okay, if that's how you want it." He purposefully sat down in the middle of the couch. Or rather on the other one's stomach. |
14ca2e95e8f44663b01a0b5ec4b84e7a | ['4fe7e495849144a8931651e30d56b53a'] | But there was only one way to find out.
I turned and started walking across the bridge, Cassandra hot on my heels, “Don’t walk away from me! Let me remind you, you are still a prisoner! If you will not heed…” And just as she caught up to me, the explosion hit us, and the ground crumbled beneath our feet. The men watched from safety on the other side, as we tumbled into the ravine.
As soon as we reached the bottom, a demon spawned before us. Cassandra gave me a baffled look, then turned away to slay it, “Stay behind me,” she shouted, wielding her shield, rushing out across the frozen river.
Of course, as soon as she left my side, a demon started forming right in front of me, as well. Panicked, I looked around. There were two short blades on the ground. I picked them up, brandishing one in each hand. The demon slashed out at me. When I lifted the weapons to defend myself, he swiped them right out of my hands, and they went clattering away on the ice.
My arm was bleeding, but I couldn’t feel it. I scurried backwards, out of range of the demon’s reach. That’s when I saw the shield. I ran over to it and tried to lift it up to protect myself, but it was too heavy. I struggled and struggled under the weight of it, as the demon grew close. Then, at the last second, I cowered down on the ground behind it, shut my eyes, and willed it to protect me. I reached deep into myself, and the next thing that happened was so astonishing, I’m not sure I can accurately describe it.
Do you know the feeling you have when you haven’t ridden a bike for a long time, then you get on a bike and it comes to you, naturally? This was similar, except it was like riding a bike for the first time and already having the muscle memory of how to do it.
It was like a door in my mind opened up, and this new language of Feeling and Form came to me, unbidden, unwilling to be denied.
I _willed_ for protection to cover me. As the demon’s long claw descended down on my soft form, a barrier spell ignited, setting me aglow, and absorbing the damage from his attack. The inertia of the impact sent me flailing back onto my butt several paces away. I jumped up on my feet, and I noticed a staff resting on some crates. The demon had his sights set on me, and I had no idea how long this magic barrier would sponge up his attacks, so I bolted for it.
As I grabbed the staff, the door in my mind flew wide open, and the untapped potential inside of me swelled. I raised the staff and slammed it into the ground, setting my focus on my demon nemesis, willing the lightning inside of me to shoot out and tangle itself around him in a wild dance of fury. He curled up in agony, and I slammed the staff, again, as my newfound power coursed through my veins. I was the moon, pulling and pushing my magical electron waves. I was the conductor, and this electricity was my symphony.
It was invigorating.
And then, he dissolved into a pile of essence. It reminded me of Peter Pan’s shadow, inert, in Wendy Darling’s drawer. I picked it up. It was solid, smooth, like a piece of silk.
“Put down your weapon,” Cassandra was pointing her sword at me.
I yelped and dropped the staff and the shade essence, in my surprise.
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” she tisked, lowering her blade. “Are you truly so untested?”
I shrugged my shoulders, “I’ve never killed anything before. Frankly, up until now, the thought of combat scared the shit out of me. But fighting that creature was…”
“Exhilarating?” She was half-smiling. She chuckled at me like I was her younger sister.
“Yeah.” I grinned. “I never knew I could do anything like that.”
“Tell me this,” she challenged, while sheathing her blade. “How did you know to warn the men? How did you know about the bridge?” Before me stood a woman of Faith, and I could see the look in her eyes as she searched me for answers. She did not know what to make of me, but her hopes were growing by the minute.
I needed to bargain for time. “It’s really complicated.”
“Simplify it for me.”
“I can’t…not without raising even more questions.” She was not buying this. “Cassandra, people are dying as we speak. Let’s get through this, right now. Let’s save them.”
“You are right,” she sighed, and cocked an eyebrow at me, “but this is not over.” Then she looked down at my wound and pulled a potion off her belt, extending it to me. “You look like you need this.”
The healing potion was smaller than I expected; it was more like a vial. Inside swirled a liquid, cherry-red, glittering and surreal. I popped open the cork with my thumb and swallowed the contents in one gulp. Instantaneously, the wound on my arm knit itself back together, leaving only the crusty blood on my solid, unharmed flesh. Uncertain what to do with the bottle, I tucked it into the pocket of my jeans.
I looked up at my guardian, “And what about the staff?”
“What about it?”
“I’m going to need it.”
She sighed with resignation, “I suppose I cannot guarantee that we will not be attacked, again.”
I chuckled, thinking to myself: “I, for one, _can_ guarantee that we _will_ be attacked again.” But there was no way I was going to say that aloud. Nah uh. She’d probably zap me with her laser vison, or something. So I just I picked up the staff. As I held it, I felt it tap into the wellspring of magic that was bubbling up inside of me.
This was going to take some getting used to. | 9f06418fe0da44c5ac6deff71401a59a | ['4fe7e495849144a8931651e30d56b53a'] | Sasha responded by immediately swinging for Steve. The gun flew off into the brush as they wrestled in the sand, and OA scrambled after it, picking it up. First Sasha was overpowering him, then Steve was able to barell him over and was punching into his ribs, when the over gangbanger double-teamed him and pulled him off his buddy, holding Steve’s arms behind his back.
A shot rang out, calling everyone to attention. It was OA. She had fired into the sky, then lowered the gun, pointing it directly at Sasha. He felt for his gun, instinctively, and when he realized it had gotten away from him, he swore, “Shit.”
“You will let go of my friend. You will run away. And you will never come back.” She said this with a wild look in her eyes while walking closer to him.
“Ok! Ok Ok! You dumasses aren’t worth dying for!” He scrambled up, and he and his cronie disappeared back into the fog from which they’d come.
OA and Steve ran over to the kids, untying them. As Steve pulled the gags out of their mouths, he realized… he recognized these kids. But no… it couldn’t be.
OA asked, “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, yeah! Thanks so much!”
“Holy shit! We thought we were dead for sure!”
OA was confused, “Why would they try to kill you like that?”
“Well, we trespassed. Everyone does it, you just can’t get caught.” One of the boys laughed. His clothes were rough, practical, like he spent most of his life scavenging outside, not in a classroom.
OA smiled, “We are looking for someone, actually. You might be able to help us. He’s a traveller.”
“Lady,” one of the boys laughed. “Who ain’t a traveller these days?”
She looked at him, confused.
Then there was a commotion in the brush again and a throng of ragtag young soldiers in mishmash gear emerged, surrounding the four of them.
“Thank god. It’s about time!” The boys jumped up with glee.
As the soldiers parted, their leader stepped forward. A guy in a combat uniform and military patrol cap, no older than Steve, walked forward and the little boys rushed into his arms. He hugged them and scolded them. “I was so worried about you.”
“This lady… she saved us!”
“Yeah, she’s like an angel, or something.”
The older brother stood, and approached, his face grave.
OA had to catch her breath.
“Thank you for your assistance. My name is--”
“Sosa.” Steve interrupted him. “Alfonso Sosa. You bastard. Since when do you get to drop out of high school before me?” |
cf8bf00a202443fcbfdc227c49b33af7 | ['500bd067df5047f39d66e0afb5b60e34'] | The corners of his mouth turned up a bit. He was passing the test.
\----------
As he came upon the first row of homes and shops of the village, Adalbert felt some of the tension ease in his shoulders. Among the commoners of the town, he was under less scrutiny than within the castle walls. It was not, he admitted, as bad as he had imagined: when he had returned to the castle for the tournament years before, it was only the Boy’s pledge of protection that kept what would have likely been a line of people to fight him. He had been smug then--certainly much more than he was now, though he was still proud--and had flaunted his ability to walk among the country and castle freely. He certainly had no intention of doing that now, but he was sure many may have held grudges from then and even further back. The lack of confrontation, while likely the responsibility of the Maou and his advisors, had much to do with Gisela. She kept him secluded in what was considered her domain and almost always accompanied him when he had to be taken out of that area. It was probably a hassle to a woman with so much to do, but she was always greeting him warmly (so long as he didn’t mess anything up.) To ensure her effort was not wasted, he kept his temper in check and behaved as well as he could.
The herbalist Gisela favored sat in front of his cart, trimming a bouquet of white lilies. The cart contained glass bottles of herbs and mixes, but the various flowers that adorned the cart took up the most space. Adalbert looked around the area: could that really be the right cart? It seemed more like a florist cart than one that may offer serious medicine.
“I specialize in plants that offer all kinds of healing, my friend,” the herbalist answered without looking up from his work. “What can I get for you?”
“Some rosemary.”
He glanced again at the bouquet in the man’s hand: the soft white petals looked translucent in the sun’s light, giving the flowers a look of fragility and purity. His immediate response was to think of Julia, who he always felt had those attributes as well. He recalled with clarity how she would often be found in the former Maou’s garden tending to the flowers with careful grace. She had been content to just sit among them for hours, a set of living creatures that, like her, had to bask in sunlight through feeling rather than sight.
“Would you like the lilies as well?”
He glanced back over at the herbalist, who was holding out the jar of rosemary in one hand and the finished bouquet in the other. The memories he had momentarily indulged himself faded, back in time where they belonged. He took the bottle out of the man’s grasp slowly, and the scent of the rosemary brought him back to the present: Back to the strong smells and noise of the medical ward of Blood Pledge Castle, where things like flowers did not bask in the sun like fragile lilies. Instead, they helped heal in the hands of a beautiful demon.
“No, not lilies,” he replied. His eyes scanned the display of different flowers, an array of roses, daisies, and forget-me-nots. In the furthest corner nearest the herbal bottles sat a set of deep blue irises, their vibrant petals reaching out from their long stems. He plucked a bouquet out of the batch and eyed them critically. After a moment he seemed to decide and paid for the rosemary and the irises.
“Have a good day, Friend.”
He merely waved the flowers in the air as he walked back, not really sure why he had done such a thing.
\----------
When Adalbert returned to the castle, he made sure not to make a show of his gift. He placed the irises and rosemary beside each other on Gisela’s empty working area and returned to his own work. When he passed by later in the afternoon, the flowers sat on the window ledge, standing tall and proud against the rays of the sun.
“You didn’t put the rosemary back,” Gisela’s voice came from behind him. He turned to find her with a tray of tools in hand. Her voice was light and lacking severity, her smile bright and warm. She put the tray down and picked up the jar from her desk. As she placed the delicate jar in his palm, he felt how smooth her slim fingertips felt against his calloused hands.
“Gifts will not win you any points with me,” she added, but the buoyancy of her mood told him she had appreciated them.
For the first time since his arrival, he openly smiled. “Of course not.”
**Author's Note:**
> Flower Notes: White lilies represent majesty, purity and virginity, so I felt they were a fitting flower to symbolize Julia. Blue Irises, on the other hand, are a symbol of faith and hope. Gisela’s acceptance of Adalbert in the latter half of the series and the OVA seems to encompass both of these attributes, and I think that Adalbert would eventually respond to her actions in kind.
>
> Title Note: Bear with my dorkiness for a moment while I indulge the part of me that earned a degree in English and spent way too much time analyzing text. The title “A Return to Healing” is supposed to be representative of all the things going on with Adalbert in this story: The first and most obvious is his attempt to mend the bridge between himself and the people in Shin Makoku. The second is his own personal healing as he lets go of the past (both Julia and his anger associated with Shin Makoku.) The third is his physical capacity in his new role as part of the medical team. And the final is, of course, his connection with Gisela, the new healer who dictates his actions (both in the literal and the psychological sense.) | a5864796656a4e0bbdaa64a10df0a77c | ['500bd067df5047f39d66e0afb5b60e34'] |
1. Eight Years Later
**Author's Note:**
> This story is complete. I will be posting new sections of it every few days.
>
> Structure of the story: This story is made up in a structure that has two parts. One is the normal chapter format. The second is a flashback. How will you know the difference?
>
> Chapter = normal text, lengthy.
> Flashback = italicized text, usually short. They are very important!
>
> This whole story is written in the third person omniscient, but from Yuuri’s perspective only. So, Conrad and Wolfram’s thoughts are only revealed when they talk; all other times they are only Yuuri’s assumptions on their thoughts.
>
>
>
> Warning: I haven't seen the third season, so this ignores any information that may have come from it.
Eight years have passed since Shibuya Yuuri's first arrival at Shin Makoku, and in that time, relatively little has changed about the young king. He is--of course--not quite so young anymore, his Earthian link allowing him to sprout up to full height well before his 90th birthday; his youthful, round features have given way for the sharper image of a man in his prime. His hair falls a little closer to his shoulder, though not as long as the Maou persona of his youth. That persona is long gone now, having made a successful merge with the person it always was--just another facet of the young king--and Yuuri wields that same power as before, just with more efficiency.
Shibuya Yuuri still loves baseball, although not in the obsessive way he once adored it as a child. He's still not particularly eloquent in comparison to other leaders, but he does his best and has even willingly learned the customs and history necessary to be a fruitful leader. He is still an idealist in the sense that he wishes for peace and works hard to achieve it everyday, but he is also aware that there are people who will never be swayed, people who just want hardships to exist even if they may not be evil themselves. He has learned to fight for this ideal of his, but now knows fighting blindly is fighting foolishly.
Little has changed about Shibuya Yuuri other than the effects of Time and the lessons It has taught him. Yuuri has grown up, and he has learned how to compromise. He has also learned the different ways in which a person can compromise; what he himself has come to compromise and why.
This is a story about choices.
2. Chapter One
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This story is made up in a structure that has two parts. One is the normal chapter format. The second is a flashback. How will you know the difference?
>
> Chapter = normal text, often lengthy (thought that's not the case with chapter one.)
> Flashback = italicized text, usually short. They are very important!
>
> This whole story is written in the third person omniscient, but from Yuuri’s perspective only. So, Conrad and Wolfram’s thoughts are only revealed when they talk; all other times they are only Yuuri’s assumptions on their thoughts.
Under normal circumstances, the Maou of Shin Makoku is found in his office after dinner finishing the last of the day’s paperwork--a treaty, a proposal, an inventory, perhaps even a love letter someone allows to slip by the first check of paperwork due to their own amusement. Usually, this process takes between three and five hours depending on the content and importance of the night’s pile, a fact that often makes the young Maou wish he were quicker at reading things. Sometimes, he receives help from one of his advisors and it speeds up the process, but nevertheless, there is rarely a day that Yuuri cannot be found at his desk until well into the night.
On this night, however, the stack is abandoned in the empty room and all notes of importance are being forwarded to the desk of Gwendal von Voltaire, much to the senior advisor’s annoyance; he thought he had been done with doing this sort of paperwork years ago. It is now he that remains up well into the late evening when he would much rather be knitting the sweater he has been working on.
Meanwhile, the Maou can be found in his room, crouched over a box of clothes and looking rather perplexed.
“I’m not sure if these are going to fit me,” he mutters, holding up a shirt he had worn while in high school. “I probably should have sent word for my mother to buy some new clothes.”
There is a snort from behind him. “I’m sure your mother would have picked out some beautiful dresses for you.”
Yuuri turns his head and grins at his fiancée. “I suppose you’re right. But then I wouldn’t have to worry about a gift for Greta.”
Wolfram is sitting up in bed, not looking particularly pleased despite Yuuri’s early retirement for the night. He ‘hmphs’ in response, and Yuuri knows his last night in Shin Makoku is not likely to be a pleasant one. As if on cue, Wolfram opens his mouth to speak, and Yuuri knows what is coming. Again.
“Explain to me again why Conrad is going with you if you absolutely insist on going alone this time?”
Yuuri tries his best not to look as exasperated as he feels about having to justify his only vacation in over two years, even if he does understand Wolfram’s point. He stands up and leaves the box where it is; it seems he’ll have to go shopping his first day back in Japan. “And again, it’s because certain people insist I have a babysitter wherever I go. Conrad gets to go because he knows Earth customs so I don’t have to worry about him getting into trouble while there.”
“I’ve learned Earth’s customs over the past couple of years!” |
49f7223ac9bb44f680c72f21610fac16 | ['5027a248dee24c99b44e394567f26a1a'] | “Lance already has his quarters on the ship that is on the opposite end of the ship,” Allura answers before Lance can even open his mouth.
“Oh okay well see you tomorrow then,” Hunk says following the rest of the group our.
For a moment Lance and Allura stared at each other just letting the moment sink in. They were the last Alteans in the galaxy, the last of their kind, the last of the royal family and they had no idea how to reach their goals.
“You need rest sister” Lance started feeling Blue essence brush up against his mind.
“We need to plan” Allura states walking around Lance to stand in front of the Blue Lion. ”We have just entered a 10,000-year war we need to be smart about our next moves.” Allura took a deep breath “The Paladins are not ready, we need to train them harder than any Altean soldier has been. We need them to bond with their lions as quick-”
“You can’t force a bond.” Lance shouted, “Bonding with a lion isn’t like running a ship Allura. We can train them in combat, ready them for battle, and bond as a unit, but trying to force a quick bond with a lion won't work.”
“Many lives have already been taken” Allura’s voice drops as she bows her head, but Lance feels no sorrow coming from his sister only anger. “We can’t let any more be-”
“This is war Allura,” Lance says stepping forward “People will always get hurt, we can’t save everyone, so please don’t try.” Lance cringed at his words as Allura’s eyes narrowed.
“You sound just like him” She snapped venom in her words as she spat out him.
Lance bit his tongue because maybe he did sound like his teacher, but his teacher was a great military leader after all. How else would he have managed to maintain a 10,000-year-old war and conquer most of the galaxy? “That may be,” Lance says choosing his words carefully “I just don’t want to see you get hurt Allura.”
Allura took a deep breath closing her eyes, and for a moment Lance could see their father. “This talk is better suited with father.”
Lance bristles that AI may have the memories of their father, but it wasn’t him it would never be him. “That isn’t father.”
“Lance-”
“It isn’t father, it may be his memories and sound like him, but it's still a machine Allura. All it knows how to do is suggest an opinion that father would have made based on its memory of him.” Allura’s shoulders tensed, her hands clenched in front of her as if she was fighting the instinct to form a fist.
“It’s the best option we have,” Allura says refusing to look at her little brother.
“No the best solution we have is to trust in ourselves and our team. Allura father’s way didn’t work-”
“And what would you know about it” Allura snapped finally facing down the young prince. ”What diplomatic meetings were you present at? Speaking at? Where were you when-” A loud growl filled the air as the Blue Lion's eyes flashed in warning and Allura seemed to remember who she was yelling at. Looking at her younger brother she was stabbed with guilt at his quivering lip and watering eyes “Lance I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-”
“It's alright Allura,” Lance says his voice shaking. “Your right, but right now we all need rest.” Lance stretches his mouth into a smile trying to stop the tears from streaming down. Lance knew that his sister didn’t mean it, but her words are true, and it doesn’t stop his heart from crumbling.
“Yes your right little brother, we all need rest.” Allura placed her hand gently on Lance’s shoulder, ignoring the way he tenses. “We will figure this out together.” Lance nodded hiding his dismay, remembering those were the last words he tried to tell his father.
“Of course goodnight sister,” Lance says turning towards the Blue lion. Allura sought to ignore the sudden flare of irritation at the clear dismissal her younger brother gave her, and although she left she couldn't help but feel that nothing has really changed between them. Lance would always chose to be with the Blue lion before her. Allura walked silently out of the room and Lance knew that his dear sister wasn’t going to sleep; she was going to see that AI wanna be father.
Blue tugged at Lance’s mind reminding the young prince he needs sleep. Lance shook his head “We need to analyze your leg” Blue lowered herself onto her stomach her nose right in front of the young prince.
‘That can wait my little star you need to rest.’
‘There is one thing I need to know before I go to sleep Blue’ Lance could feel the lump growing in his throat.
‘What is that my prince’ Blue asks feeling the waves of sadness coming from her paladin and she knew what he was gonna ask and dreaded it. “What happened to Rallele?” The young boy asks. The Blue lion hesitates for a moment, and Lance can feel it, Blue trying to minimize their bond.
“Blue, please don’t do that,” Lance says placing his hand on his nose “Please I’m your paladin, I deserve the truth don’t I.” Ezili knew the young prince was right; she knew that paladin and lions keeping secrets from each other was how they got here in the first place, but does the universe really expect her to crush her little prince’s heart. “Please, Blue I need to know. I need to...” the young prince chocked on a sob leaning his entire body on the mechanic beast. “I need to know.” Ezili truly hated the universe. She purred lifting her little one by her nose onto her paw. Lance was confused but allowed the lion to manhandle him. | cb920dbe4fad46c7babd1ddd353c6c63 | ['5027a248dee24c99b44e394567f26a1a'] | "I can understand that. I miss Altea." Coran says, switching the monitor back to the planet view of Altea. Lance's heart twisted as he walked closer to the hologram.
"I know we're supposed to be the Paladins of Voltron, Defenders of the Universe, the order in the chaos of this war, but if I'm being honest Coran I just want to go home." Lance could feel his voice shake a hand raising to rest against the image. "But we can't because its gone" Lance says bitterly "but they can Coran. They still have a home to go back to." Lance looked at the advisor pleading.
"If we could go home, we would," Coran says, unable to meet the prince's eyes. "Earth is just too far, besides reproaching the planet may bring more harm than good. The Galra battle cruiser probably assumed that Earth was just a hiding spot for the Blue Lion, not the home to the new Paladins of Voltron.”
"Rallale thought the ocean's looked like Altea's," Lance says, no longer facing the planet.
“Well, maybe when the time is right we can go to Earth and judge these oceans for ourselves," Coran says placing a hand on the young Prince’s shoulder.
Lance looked at his advisor with eager eyes "You promise" the prince asks, excited.
"Promise," Coran says smiling at the young boy "But for now we should get back to the party before your sister wonders about your absent for too long."
"Right," Lance says a new smile on his face. As Lance and Coran are leaving the bridge, Lance spots a drone entering. "Hey, Rover" Lance says greeting the drone. The drone ignores Lance and seems to be heading to the power crystal. Lance scans the door stopping in his track. "Wait…Where's Pidge?" Lance asks staring at the drone, listening to the odd beeping coming from the electronic. "CORAN LOOK OUT."
* * *
Pidge regretted speaking to the team without Lance, at least he would have had her back. “Pidge, no” Shiro says, shaking his head.
“The download from the Galra ship was enough to at least get me in the right direction to start my search. I have a pod all ready to go.” Pidge says omitting the destination that Lance gave her to a marketplace.
"You can't leave!" Keith snaps, not understanding why everyone didn't understand the seriousness of their position.
"You can't tell me what to do!" Pidge snapped tired of people yelling at her.
“If you leave, we can’t form Voltron.” Keith seethes hands clenching “And that means we can’t defend the universe against Zarkon. You’re not the only one with a family. All these Arusains have families. Everyone in the universe has families” Keith shouted a small part of his mind reminding him that he didn’t.
“Yeah, I have a family.” Hunk says quietly “They ling on Earth. I want to be with them. Is that-Is that, like, a thing that can happen?”
“You want to leave too?” Allura asks shocked.
“Of course I do.” Hunk says rubbing the back of his neck “Look, Voltron is super-cool, don’t get me wrong, but I never signed up for a lifetime in space fighting aliens.”
Keith is enraged how can these two be so stupid. Keith aggressively closes in on Pidge who takes a step back Rover hovering close to its owner. "YOU'RE PUTTING THE LIVES OF TWO PEOPLE OVER THE LIVES OF EVERYONE ELSE IN THE ENTIRE GALAXY-"
"Keith that enough, that not how a team works. People have to want to be a part of it. They can't be forced." Keith glares at Shiro but relents. Shiro would convince them to stay, Shiro was the leader he can make them stick together. Shiro turns to Pidge. "If you want to leave, we won't try to stop you. But, please, just think about what you're doing."
Pidge looks conflicted her fist tightening at her side. She has to be strong, for Matt for her dad. Lance’s voice rings in Pidge’s head ‘There your family, of course, you have to find them.’ Pidge knows what she is doing is right “I’m sorry. You’re going to have to find someone else to pilot the Green Lion.” Pidge says leaving with Rover in tow.
"I can't believe it," Allura says watching Pidge walk away "This team is falling apart. How will we ever form Voltron?" Allura was questioning the fate of this team, but she was also curious about where her brother was.
* * *
The young Prince launches himself at Coran as the Rover imitation explodes and destroys the power crystal. Instantly the Castle loses power; the blast rumbles throughout the Castle of Lions. The Arusains flee as the castle shakes. The Team runs towards the center of the explosion. The team gathers in the bridge to find Coran unharmed outside of the blast range.
"What happened," Shiro asks, looking over the older male.
"Ugh," Coran says, shaking his head looking at the damage that is blocked from the smoke "I'm not sure."
As the smoke clears Allura gasps “the crystal.” The power crystal is completely destroyed. It’s the mice’s squeaking that catches everyone’s surprise. “LANCE” Allura shouts, running to her brother’s aid. “Brother brother can you hear me?” Allura placed her hand gently on his neck trying to feel for a pulse. Allura could only relax slightly when she felt a weak beat underneath her finger. Allura knew there was a risk of losing her brother, but in battle not in the castle that was their home, not surrounded by allies and the team. Allura was not prepared for an attack like this and the consequences were costly.
“We have to get Lance to the infirmary.”
"Without the Crystal, the castle has no power," Coran says eyeing the prince's injuries, wondering why he couldn't see the danger before the young Altean. Corn held his tongue when he survived the young Prince, Lance's injuries looked life threatening. |
d2164091af45443a84a1f4239c3097cd | ['5027f06d7f094454a247bf17c5586f15'] | A bit curious, she merely nodded for Chara to continue. Chara walked to stand in front of Frisk, his red eyes lidded with some she wasn’t used to seeing in him, his blushed cheeks were pale, cherub features shaded in the burgundy light.
Frisk's brow twitched, her male counterpart becoming more and more alluring to her. Something similar to butterflies swirled in her belly.
“Yet, here I am… here, for you, every time you fall. I am here to tell a joke, pat you on the back, and watch as you go die again. And you die a lot, by the way.”
Frisk swallowed, _what is he trying to say?_ As if reading her mind, hell maybe he did, Chara stepped closer,
“What I’m trying to say is that watching you die… Watching that fucking bag of bones kill you... hurt you… Over and over… It’s lost its fucking charm.”
Frisk stepped backward, but Chara grabbed her shoulder, thumb slowly rubbing circles on the fabric of her sweater. Her dark brown bangs mingled with his lighter ones, her soft, ample chest pressed against his.
Frisk looked from one of his eyes to the other, then naturally down to his lips. When was the last time she’d _kissed actual lips_?
Had she ever?
“Well, that’s startling…” Frisk murmured, “anyone else would think you've actually started caring about me.”
As soon as the words left her lips, Frisk felt herself being pushed onto the floor, her body crashing against the darkness.
“Care? As if.” Chara scoffed, sounding lighthearted, but his brows were pinched.
He had already turned his back to Frisk’s crumpled form. “But like I said, Sans won’t be killing you again.”
Frisk flinched as he spoke those words, suddenly feeling a painful pull at every fiber of her being, she whipped around, eyes huge and full of fear. Chara’s hand was clenched around her SOUL, red light streaming from in between his pale fingers.
“No…” Frisk’s voice was strained, the grip on her SOUL causing her to tremble, she felt as if his hand was wrapped around her, crushing her.
She shakily rose to her feet, watching as two familiar options appeared before Chara.
“Please, d-don’t… Sans is...he's just confused...” She whispered taking a step forward, but the longer he held her soul, the less corporeal she became.
Chara turned his head, arm raised, index finger pointed toward the option to his left.
“I don’t get it…” He said quietly as Frisk advanced, she could’ve sworn he sounded hurt. “ _Why can’t you see I’m doing this for you?_ ”
He turned again and pressed RESET.
“NO!” Frisk screamed digging the ball of her foot down and leaping forward to grasp the collar of Chara's striped sweater, but her hand phased right through. Her body clattered into nothingness, a gust of sweet smelling wind whipping through her brown hair.
Then the blackness faded to white.
2. Why Would You Care?
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Chara's in control and on the outs with Frisk. They go to meet the questionable bag o' bones that is sans the skeleton.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I wasn't really sure what pronoun to use with male!chara in female!frisk's body, so I just chose to use "him, he, his" since it is mainly his perspective. Just know he is in Frisk's (female) body. Let me know if that's too confusing, it's an easy fix for future reference. Please ignore typos, I did proof read but it's 1 in the morning, you know how that goes. Enjoy!
Frisk was ignoring him. Again.
Chara sighed, looking at his/Frisk’s reflection in the mirror. His own red eyes stared back at him, but they were on Frisk’s golden skin, her heart shaped face that was framed by her short and unruly dark hair. Chara watched as he made Frisk’s pink lips curve into a smirk, which seemed so out of place on her warm features.
“Despite everything it’s still… Haha, you wish.”
He groaned and comically dragged his feet down the hall, then down the basement stairs to meet Toriel for the last time.
Frisk rarely spoke to him while he was in control; though sometimes he could hear her soft cries in the back of his mind whilst watching one of her _friends_ draw their last breath. It never really bothered him before; in fact, he liked the quiet. It made him feel as if he was alive again, in his own body, with his own SOUL.
He looked down at the hands he'd covered in dust, rubbing the fingers together. Then again, his skin was never this soft, it was never the mellow sun-kissed color that Frisk’s was. He swallowed, imagining that she probably spent all day in the sun back on the surface. Sometimes, very scarcely, but sometimes he would wonder what things would be like had they met up there; if she had been alive when he was.
Chara shook the thoughts from his head and looked forward, grinning as he walked straight through the pile of dust that had raised him as her own many years ago. He had killed her without even acknowledging her. Must've been a force of habit.
**How could you?**
Chara’s steps faltered slightly as Frisk’s melodic voice tickled the spot in his head that only she filled.
“How could I what?” He grumbled, climbing up the stairs and walking down the pointlessly long hall that would lead to Asriel, the vegan version.
**She did nothing but love you…** Frisk’s sickeningly sweet voice continued.
“I didn't ask her to do that.” Chara replied easily, “This conversation is boring, Frisk.” | 756443c3621343cc8b8c26d09b8bfc00 | ['5027f06d7f094454a247bf17c5586f15'] | A cold wind ruffled the split tail of your black overcoat, light bending off the green trim. You weren’t sure why, but the sudden gust held something sinister. Like it was one of those fabled ‘winds of change.’ It was a figure of speech, you knew that much, but things certainly were changing.
You began walking, brown boots clicking against the gray cobblestone. You always caught a ride to work with Grillby, a fire elemental who lived at the end of your street. He was younger than you, not a member of court but a blacksmith’s apprentice. He delivered food to his mentor’s family as a compensation for the apprenticeship. This was somewhat of an easy feat since Grillby’s family owned a successful tavern and grill.
You spotted Grillby right away; he wore a simple white shirt, littered with scorch marks, and light trousers, held onto his lean hips by a leather apron. Every morning the elemental would chastise you, with a crackly voice, saying you should move to the capital so he wouldn’t have to wait on you each morning.
Ironically, he was a real hothead.
You sighed, this morning was no exception. Grillby stood at a slant, leaned back against his wagon, one leg kicked up as smoke lightly billowed from the flame of his head. The back of the wagon was already half-filled and ready to go. He squinted when he saw you, the folded arms over his chest dropping.
“Ah, the princess arrives,” He said sarcastically. You gave an embarrassed smile, putting a bit of pep in your step. “Grillby, the light of my life!” You exclaimed and he scoffed, detaching from the wagon and moving to the bench up front, sitting and grabbing the reigns. “You really shoul-”
“Move to the capital, I know, I know…” You sighed, walking around the wagon to sit beside him. “But I can’t leave home, you know that.” Grillby’s mouth opened to respond, revealing the pale yellow fires inside, but all the came out was a call to the horses. You mentally thanked him for his tact. You didn’t need to be reminded that your family, the ones who made this place a home, was gone.
The ride to the capital was bumpy and light-hearted, you cracked a few jokes and Grillby pretended not to like them. At least, you hoped he was pretending. “Your jokes never cease to ruin my day before it’s even began,” he said, as if it was an afterthought. “Sorry Grillbz, I just lose my _cool_ around someone as _hot_ as you!” You cackled and he groaned dramatically before cursing as the wagon jolted.
“Christ!” You exclaimed before giving your driver a pointed look, “I swear you have the worst eyesight.”
“And you have-”
“You must be blinded by my charms, ha!” You had cut him off while wearing a smug grin and his back hunched, resembling a grumpy old man. The wagon continued to bump along and you pressed yourself further into your seat. The day was just beginning, the morning only now growing light; sunlight began competing with Grillby’s orange burn. He’d shot up over the past few years, you remember when he was just a child, only coming to your rib-cage. Now he stood at exactly your height and didn't seem to be stopping there, you could tell from the knobbiness of his knees that he had much more growing to do.
After a few moments of enjoying comfortable silence and sweet smelling wind, a curious look crossed over Grillby’s sizzling face and he used a teasing voice, “Word has it that you have lured in someone particularly tall, dark, and handsome, hmm?”
You cocked up an eyebrow, “What? Me? Actually luring someone in?” You snorted, and that really just proved your point. Grillby shrugged, “Well you aren’t _ugly,_ that monster by the river didn’t think so…” His teenaged bluntness almost led you to breeze over the implications of what he had said.
“Wh- How do you know about that?”
“Ebott is a small town and I live upstairs of the town tavern - there isn’t much I don’t hear about.” You figured that was fair enough and turned your head away, looking out onto the fields between Ebott town and the Capital, the well-used path connecting the two locations was the one you traveled on now. Puffy white clouds rolled overhead, the fields were _spring_ ing (ha) with green under the lightening sky, and just beyond the vast seas of emerald grass was the beautiful Mount Ebott, flocks of multicolored birds circling the snowy top.
Grillby cleared his throat loudly and you realized you never answered his question, lost in the nature around you. “Oh, that was Gaster… He’s new to town. Got mixed up on his way to the capital.”
“Likely story.”
“Actually, it’s incredibly unlikely…” You said, oblivious to the sarcasm Grillby had used. You felt a smile lift your face and didn’t fight it. You quite liked the feeling. “Yet, it happened…”
“Must be destiny.” Grillby grumbled with an eye roll. You hummed quietly in response, eyes remaining glued to the horizon until it was obscured from your vision by a wall of tan bricks lined with golden sconces.
You had reached the capital.
Once you hopped off the wagon, you waved to Grillby as he pulled off, joining the many other carts and horses crowding the streets. The kid had a nasty attitude at times, but you know he’s a good one… With a particularly _bright_ future ahead of him. |
61e696e0a74b4f2f98331f605ae53f19 | ['507f33311eaa4e7a93c33b947774f63b'] | “Sawamura-chan right? You are sure lucky to get Miyuki’s attention. This is my first time seeing him bringing a date along!”
“Takeda-san! Can we order now?” Miyuki blushed
“Sure sure. Order as much as you want!”
“Oh god, the food is so good.” Sawamura moaned when he took the first bite of fried rice. Every grain of rice is coated with egg accompanied with stir fried vegetables and dumplings.
“Glad that you liked it. I guess this is good enough for an apology meal.” Miyuki commented, occasionally glancing at Sawamura’s blissful expression. He was glad that he made the right choice, except the part where Takeda-san teased them for being a couple. He wasn’t sure how Sawamura would take that comment, especially when there’s another alpha around Sawamura.
“Takeda-san! Thank you so much for the wonderful dinner! I would love to come here again! Ah but I don’t remember the way here…” Sawamura mumbled.
“It’s okay, I can bring you here again,” Miyuki replied.
_Again? There will be more?_
“I’ve always wanted to ask, do you use cologne when there’s baseball practice?” Miyuki leant over, taking sips of beer. He still has to drive Sawamura back home.
“Ahh… You noticed? I thought I did a good job hiding it.” Sawamura started fiddling with the handle.
“It-it’s okay if you don’t want to answer. It was insensitive of me.” Miyuki interrupted when he realised Sawamura's scent change.
“It started when I was the substitute coach for ‘Eagles’.”
_Maybe it’s the effects of alcohol. But if it's Miyuki I don’t mind saying._
“They were hiring for a baseball coach. The previous one was about to retire.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm such a tease HAHAHAHAHA look forward to the next chapters!
11. Chapter 11
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Part 2 of the apology meal *AHEM* date *AHEM* hahahahah
It was a few months after Sawamura took over the coffee shop. Settling into the Tokyo weather was wearing him down. It was tiring to manage a shop all by himself, but his body was itching to play baseball, or just throwing balls in general. It was his only stress outlet during his middle school and high school days. Remembering the shouts from his teammates, the moment his pitch hits the catcher’s mitt. The feeling of standing on the mound. The cheers of joy and cries on the other side after the end of the match. Even though he didn’t win anything, he enjoyed his time back at Nagano.
Sawamura was on his daily routine to purchase some stock when he passed by the empty field. A team was having fielding practice. He decides to stop by and take a look.
“Interested in baseball, young lad?”
“Yeah. You are?”
“Hahah that was rude of me for not introducing myself. I’m Sasaki, the coach of team ‘Eagles’.” The man pointed towards the field.
“I’m Sawamura, these boys remind me of my past.”
“You play baseball?”
“Yeah, I stopped at high school.” Sawamura stopped himself from saying too much.
“Do you want to be the coach?”
“Huh? Coach? Wait, what’s going on?” Sawamura turned his head too quickly and almost had a whiplash.
“Well… I’m already too old to be teaching them. There hasn’t been anyone willing to take over these boys and I don’t want to shut down this team.” He knew that this geezer was trying to guilt trip him but the moment took a glance towards the field, he was torn. Those children were having so much fun, dirt and sweat on their faces.
“I-I’ll think about it. This is too sudden for me.” Sawamura stammered.
“Really? You will think about it? Great! We have practice on Wednesday and Saturday evening. See you!” Coach Sasaki jogged off towards the field, leaving Sawamura alone with troubled thoughts.
_What have I gotten myself into? Sunshine is already keeping me busy enough..._
* * *
“Sawamura-kun! Welcome.” Coach Sasaki called out. Sawamura was guided to the dugout where he got to see up close at how the players performed during practice. Squeeze, Stealing base, bunt, double play. All of these he remembers closely to his heart.
_I really do miss playing, huh._
“So how to do you think of this team?”
“They are really good. Independent in their thinking, finding the ideal way to get runners on base. It’s a good team.”
The coach called for a break and gathered the team over.
“Is that an omega?” One of the parents muttered.
“Well, Coach Sasaki isn’t young to guide the team anymore, but an omega coach for team ‘Eagles’?”
“Maybe he used his scent or something.”
_Your boys have not even developed their secondary gender and you are here insulting an omega. What would you do if your son is one?_ Sawamura turned to the group of parents who were waiting at the side of the fields.
“Sawamura, introduce yourself.” Coach Sasaki interrupted his thoughts.
“Ah, I’m Sawamura Eijun. I moved over from Nagano a few months ago. I played as the pitcher during my middle school and high school days. Nice to meet you.” Sawamura straightened his posture and greeted.
“Sensei, will you be teaching us?"
“Yay, new sensei!"
“Pitcher? Were you the ace pitcher?” The kids quickly warmed up to Sawamura, asking questions while Sawamura dutifully answer back. His omega was in bliss seeing kids crowding over and smiling happily at him, his omega wondering when will he have his own.
“So, how was the team?” Coach Sasaki asked.
“Those kids are adorable. I can really see the passion they have for baseball.”
“So… Will you-“
“I don’t mind trying, I guess.” Sawamura answered.
_But I really need to do something about the scent, those kids might quit because of their parents._ Sawamura sighed. | 3d6835b83b424702bc5069c1786d7125 | ['507f33311eaa4e7a93c33b947774f63b'] | “Oh shut up. I’m fine right here.” Kuramochi folded his arms.
Kuramochi went on the news once as he was caught kissing. With Carlos. Apparently, both were so drunk and aroused they started rubbing against each other and shoving tongues in each other mouth. Their alphan scent heightens and the club workers had to send their customers out while the baseball team tried to separate them. It ended up with Kuramochi getting one tight slap from Miyuki (cause no one wants to be choked in Kuramochi wrestling moves) while Carlos begins kissing Shirakawa. Shirakawa ended it with a slap too.
Narumiya was the most affected. Due to the heavy scent, his Omega decided to trigger his heat one week earlier and had to take leave from the team. At least it wasn’t during competition season but Narumiya gave a hell of a scolding to Kuramochi and Carlos.
Carlos, as usual, decides to take off his shirt and complained that the club is too hot and heads over to the dance floor. One girl started rubbing her hands over his tanned chiseled abs and Carlos continues to encourage her. Narumiya was standing on the dancer’s platform with the other dancers and started giving a pole dance. Spreading his leg slowly till his butt touches the floor, showing his unmarked neck once a while and releasing his scent really makes the crowd go crazy.
“Yes Narumiya work that!”
“Putting that flexible body to good use!”
“Make all the alphas beg for you!!”
“You’re beautiful Mei!”
Howls of praises and catcalls came from all direction. Miyuki decided to stay and watch. Not that he has thought of Narumiya being his lover, it never hurts his alpha to see an unmarked Omega dancing sexually.
“Before we end the day, let us give one last toast for us winning the League!”
“Tetsu-san, IT’S THREE IN THE MORNING! KYAHAHA!”
“KAMPAI” Everyone cheered.
5. Chapter 5
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> A short chapter before any Miyusawa interaction! hehehehe
Miyuki only got back home at seven. The team officially left at five as they decided to have a couple more drinks before the official start of the break. He had to drive Kuramochi back as he got too drunk by gulping down all the alcohol. Waking up Ryou-san at six in the morning is not a pretty sight.
Hope Kuramochi is alive by then.
Miyuki decides to skip gym day and dragged his leg to the bathroom to remove the stench of sweat and alcohol. He quickly washes his hair and body before lying on his bed naked.
_I can’t even bother to move, I’m fucking tired._
* * *
He only got up at 5 in the afternoon and decides to cook dinner for himself. A simple bowl of fried rice.
“Almost forgot my coffee,” Miyuki mumbled.
Miyuki took his half-drink coffee from the fridge. He didn’t want to forget that day he chanced upon ‘Sunshine’. It feels as if everything happened yesterday was a dream. A coffee shop with amazing interior design and someone, who is the owner, that brews the best coffee he has ever drunk, is an omega.
An unmarked omega too. A plus point.
_Wait what_
A small blush spread across his face when he remembered the owner, Sawamura, commented about his scent. That was such an embarrassing thing to do. He thought that he had good control over his scent, especially when he entered the same team as Narumiya, who has warned the team about scent-controlling.
* * *
“If I as an Omega can control my scent during games then you guys better play your damn part and put that alpha scent the fuck away. Don’t blame me or some shit. I’m a fucking professional player. YOU BETTER DRILL THAT INTO YOUR ASS.” Narumiya shouted across the dugout when the opposing team catcher tried to use his alpha scent to distract him when it was his time to bat. The members had a hard time restraining him as Narumiya scent almost trigger every alpha’s most primitive emotion, defend and protect. Thank god they were still sane enough to restrain themselves.
He profusely apologised to the team after the match for over reacting and releasing his scent.
“It’s okay, Narumiya. Stop crying.” Shirakawa, hugged a sobbing omega, occasionally crooning to calm him down.
Of course, the team was disqualified but till now it affects Narumiya whenever someone mentions it.
News travelled, some papers criticised him for spewing vulgarities on live television that it was an un-omega behaviour to do but his fans backed him up. Narumiya has gained many followers since then
**Narumiya SLAY! No one should ever use their scent over an omega that’s just fucking disrespectful. @narumiyamei**
**He was just making his stand. The opposing team should be ashamed @narumiyamei**
**Why is the media focused on Narumiya? HELLO, THE OPPOSING TEAM STARTED IT. @narumiyamei**
**Waiting for an apology~ @narumiyamei**
* * *
Miyuki ate his dinner while watching the team’s previous match. They won 5-3 but there is always room for improvement for the team. Once a while, he will take down notes on the scorebook and takes sips of his coffee.
_Maybe I should hit the gym tomorrow. The all-stars game is happening in weeks._
Miyuki drank the last drop of coffee and was about to throw the cup away when a slip of paper fell to the ground.
**If you don't mind, I can reserve that seat for you whenever you come over. Of course, that's if you are free. - Sawamura E.**
_Cute._
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Comments and Kudos are welcome!
6. Chapter 6
“Welcome to 'sunshine'.” Sawamura greeted.
Miyuki finished his morning gym session at ten and decide to head down to do his work. The sweet scent wafted through and it seems to have an instant effect of calming his nerves.
“Hey, Sawamura. Anything good to recommend today?" |
dd837d202a8643f9a730aaf38a77e578 | ['5097074aa5ee4b4ab4c9a2909a2b8e6b'] | "We were playing, and Anna wanted to see the magic again, so I showed her it. We had a great time, we built snowmen and..." Elsa trailed off, smiling weakly at the memories.
"But I thought she didn't know about your powers?" Jack said.
"She did once," Elsa murmured. "I miss her knowing, but it's for her own good... I hurt her while we were playing, I hit her on the head with my powers, they said it was lucky I didn't hit her heart or she would have... so, after I hit her, we took her to see the trolls and they healed her and took away her memories of the power, and they told me I had to learn to control it or..." Elsa buried her face in her hands.
"Hey, hey, hey, it's alright," Jack said, resting his staff on the snow and sitting down where she stood. "Do you know about the Guardians?"
Elsa lifted her head and shook it. Jack crossed his legs and smiled. "They work to protect children, Elsa. Children like Anna. You've been hiding your powers for so long to protect your kid sister..."
Jack knelt up and put his hand on her shoulder. "I guess that kinda makes you a Guardian too."
Elsa grinned and hugged Jack, almost knocking him over. He let out a hearty laugh and hugged her back.
"Are you a Guardian, Jack?" Elsa said once she'd pulled away. Jack shook his head, his eyes widening at the thought of it, before Elsa said, "You'd be a wonderful Guardian."
Jack grimaced and shrugged. "Well, I don't know about that," Jack said. "But I hope you had fun tonight."
Elsa nodded enthusiastically and Jack stood up. "I should get going. snow isn't gonna snow itself."
Elsa's face fell and she grabbed Jack's sleeve. "But who's going to teach me to control my powers?"
Jack turned around and squeezed her hand. "You don't need taught, Elsa," he said reassuringly. "You're a little natural."
Elsa smiled, but did not believe his words. Jack bowed and said, "farewell, Guardian Elsa".
And then he was gone, the young princess waving goodbye to the trail of snowflakes he had left behind in his flight.
*
Elsa's eyes fluttered open the next morning and she curled up in a ball with delight upon remembering the events of the previous night (well, the clean-up job hadn't been too fun). Perhaps she would even make a habit of skating in the big hall. She'd need plenty of practice for next time the northern lights came; Jack would surely return then.
Hmm, maybe she should practise making the skates.
Elsa slid up so her back was against the wall and whipped off her duvet. She removed the gloves and, with shaking hands, concentrated hard on her feet.
"OW!" she exclaimed, shutting her eyes. In her mind, she had created beautiful skates with an elaborate design. When she opened her eyes, she saw her feet encased in two blocks of ice. At the sight of them, she burst into a fit of laughter.
"Elsa?!" Her father burst in, and did a double take when he saw her feet. "Elsa, what happened?!"
Elsa looked up at him, barely able to contain her laughter. "Jack... Jack Frost."
And then she was laughing hysterically again, and as she did the ice on her feet began to thaw.
2. How Queen Elsa Spent Her Coronation
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Princess Elsa becomes Queen Elsa, but it doesn't go quite as smoothly as she'd hoped.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This chapter takes place during Elsa's coronation and after it.
"It just can't," snapped Elsa, shutting her eyes, unable to turn around and face her sister. There was an agonising silence before Anna murmured, "excuse me for a minute" in a wobbly voice. Elsa turned around again, and her sister was gone. She sighed and faced forwards again, looking as stoic as she could manage. She watched the citizens happily dance and socialise and snack, trying to take her mind off Anna.
Suddenly an ice cold hand was on her shoulder. "BOO!"
Elsa shrieked and turned around, ready to greet Anna and laugh their previous conversation off, but Anna wasn't there. The boy from the library was there, just as Elsa remembered him all those years ago. Jack Frost was at her coronation party.
Elsa stood frozen to the spot, her eyes widening with shock. She felt a tear roll down her cheek. She had gone to the ballroom every time she saw the northern lights, she had practised her skating, waiting and waiting for him to come back and skate with her. But he never showed, and now that she'd finally given up, he came to see her today of all days. He was right there. She knew it. She _knew_ he wasn't a dream.
"Your Majesty, is everything alright?" said a man shortly after bowing. Elsa turned to face him, composing herself and forcing a smile.
"Oh, it's just all very overwhelming, sir," she said humbly. The man smiled fondly and went back to join the party. Elsa kept her gaze fixed on the dancers. She couldn't have a conversation with thin air, could she?
"Didn't think I'd miss your coronation, did you?"
Elsa smiled, sniffing and blinking back tears. She wanted to hug him and go skating in the ballroom again, but the ballroom was quite occupied at the moment.
"It's been a while," she muttered almost inaudibly.
"Really? Hasn't seemed like that long," said Jack, swinging his staff as he wandered around the room.
"Be careful with that!" hissed Elsa. Jack laughed, but held it properly. | f451bb4c170c47b9a169f1272e3bb406 | ['5097074aa5ee4b4ab4c9a2909a2b8e6b'] | "You can't just show up again after ten years and tell me what to do," snapped Elsa. "I waited so long for you, and now today of all days you decide to come back?"
"Well it looks like you needed it," countered Jack matter-of-factly.
"I needed you so many times," said Elsa. "Why do you think the coronation even took place? My parents died, Jack. Do you have any idea how much I needed someone there for me?"
"Did you ever think about the girl that might have needed you?"
Elsa clenched her fists, then unclenched them, turning away from him. "Of course I did. It's all I ever do. Everything I do is to protect her."
Jack walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "Look, I knew about your parents. I came back to visit you, and I saw there was a funeral. I also saw it was for the king and queen of Arendelle. I went as fast as I could to the castle, but when I went to your window you looked so distraught. There were snowflakes suspended in the air. I would only have made it worse by disturbing you."
Elsa opened her mouth to scold him, but he was right. She turned back to face him.
"Thank you for coming to me coronation," she said, her voice thick with tears. Jack smiled and hugged her. "Wouldn't have missed it for the world."
Elsa smiled into his shoulder and gave her friend a squeeze. "Jack, I think I need to be alone."
Jack let her go and raised one eyebrow. "I thought you didn't want me to clear off?"
"I don't," she said. "I just need to clear my head. Just give me a few days. I'm going to go away from Arendelle, I'm have to find somewhere else."
Jack grimaced and reluctantly backed away. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn't. "Okay. A few days."
Elsa smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Jack."
Jack kneeled before her. "Farewell, Queen Elsa."
And before Elsa could insist she didn't refer to her as "queen", he was gone, that same familiar trail of snowflakes in his place.
"I preferred Guardian Elsa," she whispered, waving at the snowflakes once again and heading up the hill alone.
**Author's Note:**
> I'm aware that there are a lot of references here to love thawing Elsa's ice, and some of it happens when she's thinking of Jack Frost. I aim for this fic to be more of a platonic love than a romantic one, because while I think the ship is adorable, I think that Elsa and Jack would just have the best friendship. Plus I like the Elsa/Noor thing going around Tumblr. |
149a543518d44a68835b346b80363d41 | ['509bcf5618ec42b7af0869cbf2af99d5'] | Is Gabby Going?
**Author's Note:**
> dreamradicaldreams is such a perfect beta ♥
When Steve asked, Danny had just avoided the question.
But of course she was going. Gabby was Danny’s girlfriend for almost… 3 months now? It felt like a lifetime since they had started everything with a coffee.
Much too long for the “It’s not a relationship” excuse.
Dinner at Hilton. Danny’s paying. It was stupidity to hope that she wasn’t going to be there. Logic screamed at him, saying that this was Danny’s way of introducing Gabby to Gracie. But even then Steve was trying to ignore it.
Ignore it and pretend that this was another common night with their Ohana, because if Steve started to think about Gabby and Gracie… And Danny, for Christ’s sake, he was definitely not going.
He was thinking about not going. Call it off and go surfing, fishing, shooting things. Anything. Any excuse. But when the fifth message from Danny beeped on his phone, he went anyway.
She was there. With Gracie.
Kamekona was being funny about the fact that he was late and when he lied about the car Kono and Chin frowned at him. Of course the Wonder Cousins knew.
Danny was looking pleased. Happy. Then it all became unbearable.
Someone should tell his heart that Happy Danno was a good thing.
Someone should remind him that he was being selfish and ridiculous for not being happy for Danny and Gaby like everyone else.
Maybe the drinks could remind him of that.
Steve did not start drinking because of Daniel and his stupid goofy smile, or the fact that he kept giving Gabby light touches.
It was Chin’s fault. Chin and the first beer he gave Steve.
But a navy seal doesn’t get drunk. No. Not even when he loses count of how many drinks he’s had or what, exactly, is he drinking?
“Will you relax? She’s right there!”
Right there. Oh so happy and adorable and helpful and reliable as always.
Beer. He was drinking beer. And his Danno was looking worried about Gabby. Always Gabby, and his Danno wasn’t happy anymore.
His Danno.
His because Gracie said to Gabby to not call him Danno, that this was her nickname for Danny. “Mine and uncle Steve’s” she said.
Uncle Steve. He giggled at the thought. He could be uncle Steve if that made his Danno happy. But it wasn’t enough. Wasn’t because his Danno was worried about Gabby and Gracie and what was going to happen if they didn’t get along.
Steve just want his Danno happy.
“Listen to me. Go over there”
And then his Danno was gone. But he was happy. And Steve’s eyes weren’t wet. And his throat didn’t hurt. And he’s heart was just fine.
Because his Danno was happy.
“Steve, if you ever need any advice on relationships, my door is always open” Why was Chin helping him lie down? He couldn’t sleep at the table. Oh, but the table had been so soft. Maybe that was why the Hilton was so expensive? “But try not to drink the bar dry again, will you?”
“G’d night, Danno.”
“Chin.”
“I love you.”
“I know.” | 6e58354532b641548246b1772576da53 | ['509bcf5618ec42b7af0869cbf2af99d5'] |
That's not a word
**Author's Note:**
> Hello! This is my first fanfiction in English if you want to help me with any mistakes feel free to! (and if you want to give me chance and actually be a beta for it, call me!)
Mondays usually started like that, with coffee and... Well with coffee, they didn't have much to throw around. Their living arrangement was simple, McCree found himself with the spare room that the Shimada had just because Genji decided that he quite liked his hat. "Quite liking something" usually was enough for Genji to make decisions.
While both brothers were enrolled in Business, the american major was still a blur - most likely something with Photography? Probably. That was the reason he and Genji got along so fine, the younger japanese enjoyed the fact that he wasn't alone at being a rebel (even though "There's nothing rebel about college" was something Jesse heard himself saying often).
The whole deal started in one of those days where Genji was angry at something generic and Jesse was barely awake, listening to the endless babbling.
\- Can you believe him? He actually called my parents so they can "know" that I'm not attending class. - The younger one complained, running his hands through his hair and letting a pained sigh escape. - Just as if I was a five years old misbehaving! And now I have to pretend I'm dead and I can't pick up my phone when my father calls.
Jesse just kept drinking his coffee. He knew that arguing with Genji to say that maybe, just maybe, college was really expensive and his brother was right to call him out would start a fight. And you know what? He was done with fights, the last time they argued Genji had the spirit to put Nair in his shampoo to get revenge, luckily it didn't make a whole lot of mess but he still had a hairless patch on his arm.
\- You know what that is, right? - The japanese continued, rambling as if he was done with his coffee hours ago and now was just high on caffeine. - He doesn't fuck. That's why he's so strung up.
It was a real effort so Jesse wouldn't choke on his coffee. Yes, he heard a lot worse than that - and said it too - but it was 7:30 and he was still just half awake.
\- And how does that have anything to do with him telling your parents?
\- Well, he doesn't fuck because he keeps a stick up his ass! And he must do everything mother and father tell him to. - While McCree dismissed the words with laughter, Genji stayed focus on his argument - I'm serious! He's such a bore! I would literally pay someone to fuck him, if he had to make space to cock I doubt it would be any space left for the stick he has up his ass.
Genji was always funny when he was angry, because of his crude attitude mixed with boyish looks and - usually - cute expression. Right now he was looking... Wrong. Like something was cooking and no one would enjoy the results. Jesse almost gave a step back when he turned to face him, a wide grin taking his lips.
\- You should do it.
The words stayed on the air for a moment before they actually made sense. And the cowboy's reaction was exactly what it was supposed to be.
\- No.
It was too early and too damn bright and Genji was going to give him a headache. He tried to lose the younger man, going to his room to change, only to be followed by the green haired shorter man.
\- Please! At least hear me out, is perfect! We can solve my problems, your problems, everyone’s and their mothers! We can get a Nobel peace prize for that! - He didn't stop talking while his friend started to undress, mostly because he was too excited about that new plan and some part because he never minded seeing the american getting naked. - You fuck Hanzo, he gets out of my back... And I talk to my father about your scholarship.
That made Jesse stop.
Two years ago when he made it into the university, finally, they granted him a scholarship based on the fact that he could play football. And they weren't wrong to do that, he was good after all. Well, until six months ago.
Everything he remembers is that Gabe lost control of the car, right after picking him up for Christmas. They were discussing innovative ways to tell Jack that his cock was not as good as he imagined without breaking his heart and everything went black. Gabe was in a coma for two weeks before he came back and Jesse? Was a few pounds lighter. They couldn't save the arm, not after all the time it took to find them on the desert road.
These days the prosthetics would feel like the real thing, and he knew he should be grateful for getting one so fast. But prosthetics were against regulation, they were seen as "body enhancement" and therefore he was out. Now, how to stay at college in an athlete scholarship if he wasn't one anymore. He was trying to force the university to keep him on the justice, but it was a big fight for a small family. His parents were cops, nothing fancy that could buy him the right to stay.
Genji's, on the other side.
\- Are you sure your father is not Yakuza?
\- Yes. As he wasn't in all the other times you asked that. And my tattoo was made by a guy name "Jeb" in New Jersey, not a half woman half dragon japanese witch. Also, a little racist. Not all successful japanese men are Yakuza. - Genji repeated it in a monotone, have heard the same joke too many time for anyone to enjoy it. - But, even if he's not if he talked to the board they would absolutely stop fighting and just handle you the scholarship. And all I'm asking is for you to fuck my brother into sluthood.
\- That's not a word. - Was the only thing McCree thought to answer at that moment, still shocked by the pure idea that Genji could actually be serious about that. And by the looks of it, he was.
\- Yes, it is, I know more words than you.
\- Considering that you speak japanese, french and german and I only speak english and spanish, you're probably right. And yet that's not a word.
\- That's the most important thing you gathered from the whole conversation? If you help, we can work together and you can have your scholarship. And you get to fuck my brother! Isn’t it perfect?
It wasn’t. |
a081628db345482baa4c021070c9239a | ['509c7c6a5b064d94ae744508a4fdb5e5'] | Haises’ heart picked up a fast pace. He held Arima’s coat tightly with his hands, tightening the hug. They stayed in silence for a few more seconds before the younger took a deep breath, deciding to ignore his own insecurities and lay his cards on the table. “Then why haven't we…” _Had sex? Fucked?_ “moved past kissing…” _Great move, Haise._ “yet?” His fist closed even more strongly, probably creating more creases in the man’s clothes than he would be comfortable with in any other situation—Arima could never care less, but Haise felt weird messing up with his meticulously neat clothing.
He felt Arima tensing against him. It was subtle enough that he probably wouldn’t have noticed if he was relying only on his vision.
Arima held him even closer. “... I don’t want to hurt you again.”
‘Again’, he said. Haise didn’t remember a time when he ever did, could barely imagine the man in front of him—who asked if Haise was absolutely sure around three times before _kissing_ him for the first time, the man who took care of him, saved him from insanity countless times, read books to him, held him like a father and later a lover—doing anything to hurt him.
The voice inside his head screamed. He stomped it silent.
“You won’t, though,” he said, lifting his head from Arima’s chest to look at his eyes and his furrowed brows. The man didn’t look convinced, and Haise caressed his cheek softly, studying his face before smiling, fully sure of what he was saying. “I want this. I want _you_.”
Arima looked into his eyes for a few more seconds. It seemed like he was searching for something. Haise didn’t know what it was, but he really hoped Arima could find it.
And apparently, he did, since the next thing Haise could remember was the man’s lips on his, and the muscular body against his once again, a lot more firmly than before. When Arima’s grasp on his waist got stronger and the man’s tongue started to tease his lips, any other thought besides _yes, hell yes_ quickly fled from Haise’s mind.
He felt hot all over with just a few touches, as always, but this time was different. His body had something to look forward to now, and that made a huge difference. Haise was sure he was already getting hard, could feel the pressure behind his ghoul eye alerting him of his kakugan activating. He was giggly and felt like crying at the same time. Haise had no idea what his teenage years had been like, but he felt like one for the first time.
He loved kissing Arima, loved the taste of his mouth more than any meal he could ever eat. In the beginning, it was hard to control the instinct to bite down, but now it was just enjoyable and good—so, _so_ good. He could kiss the man for hours and never get bored. _But,_ he thought, taking Arima’s coat off the man’s body, letting it slide from the broad shoulders to the ground, _we won’t stop at kissing today_.
“When are the kids coming back?” Arima asked, breaking the kiss to start sucking and biting at Haise’s neck, making the half-ghoul feel his whole body react, grinding against Arima’s thighs on impulse. The question flew right by Haise’s head, and he kept moving his hands through the muscles in the other’s body—he loved to feel how strong Arima was; it was different, seeing his massive body and feeling it with his own hands, and not with his imagination.
Arima chuckled, the sound vibrating from his mouth to Haise’s neck and the only thought on Haise’s head was that Arima sounded painfully hot. He grinded harder against Arima’s thigh, moving his own against the bulge forming on the other’s pants, eliciting another sound from the man’s throat.
Haise wasn’t in his right mind, too lost to feel embarrassed by how easy and eager he was being—he had wanted it for so long, had jerked off to the thought of being fucked hard by the man before him so many times, and now that his chance was right in front of him, he would make the most of it, and Haise refused to half-ass anything about the situation. He was going all out, and, judging by how hard Arima already was against him, the man liked it.
Haise was starting to feel his head get foggy, drowning himself on such a strong power trip that he was getting dizzy. Knowing he could bring Kishou Arima—the strongest man he had ever heard of, his mentor, the mysterious CCG Reaper who barely ever gave anyone a second of his attention—to such a state… It was exhilarating.
“Haise,” Arima said again, biting the other’s neck hard enough to make him release a strangled sound, a mix of a hiss and a moan.
“W-What?”
“When are the kids coming back?” he asked, moving the collar of Haise’s shirt just enough to let him suck all over his collarbone, making the half-ghoul gasp.
“I have no idea—” A moan abruptly cut off his sentence as Arima pressed his thigh against his clothed cock just as Haise had given a fairly hard thrust. “ _Fuck_ , yes.”
“We better do this in your bedroom,” Arima said. Haise was mildly offended by how put together he was, but he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised.
“Don’t,” he moaned, moving his hands underneath Arima’s suit. “I don’t care, just keep—” he moaned again, grinding against the strong thigh between his legs and scratching the man’s back hard enough to leave marks, “—moving.” | 62fee8b7b696428b807a9bb02f9eaca4 | ['509c7c6a5b064d94ae744508a4fdb5e5'] | He pushed his pants down enough to free his hard cock, and saw Yuuri lick his lips, his pupils blown wide.
“Lube, we need—” Viktor started.
“I prepared myself very well before this, we don’t need anything, just _do it_.”
“Yuuri, that’s not enough, it’s going to hurt—”
“Hurry _up_.” Yuuri used his legs to pull Viktor’s body against his and he took it upon himself to position Viktor’s cock against his hole.
Viktor frowned for a few seconds before noticing that Yuuri wasn’t backing out. “If it hurts, you tell me and we’ll stop. You know that, right?”
“Yes, yes, _yes_ , please.”
Viktor was satisfied enough with that answer, and he thrust his hips forward, entering Yuuri slowly, until his fiancé used his legs to push his hips closer and shove Viktor’s cock all inside in one quick thrust.
Yuuri moaned so loud that his voice echoed through the entire room, his eyes watering as he dragged his nail down Viktor’s back hard enough to leave angry red marks in their wake. A broken sob escaped from the Russian’s lips and he could barely stop himself from thrusting continuously inside of the other man.
“Are you okay?” he asked, kissing Yuuri’s cheek with a sweetness that didn’t match the mood they had set, but Viktor couldn’t bring himself to care. Yuuri’s well-being was the most important part of all this.
“Yeah,” Yuuri asked, smiling at him. “Keep going, don’t make me wait.”
And Viktor didn’t.
Being inside Yuuri was always a heavenly experience, but when Yuuri was squirming and moaning loudly with pure enthusiasm and not a hint of shame, it managed to feel even better. Yuuri knew Viktor needed his voiced consent at all times, but he was usually shy, quiet in telling his fiancé exactly what he needed, and Viktor thought it was cute—there wasn’t anything that Yuuri did that wasn’t somehow cute in Viktor’s eyes.
But when Yuuri got into this very particular mood, either by himself or because of Viktor pushing him too hard, it was hot. So hot Viktor forgot how to breathe sometimes. His loud moans and demands made Viktor’s insides boil, forced him to drive into him harder and harder until Yuuri was drawing blood from Viktor with his nails and until Yuuri could barely make a sound from how overwhelmed he was, gasping with his mouth open.
Viktor gave his fiancé an open-mouthed kiss, tasting Yuuri’s breathless moans on his tongue. Yuuri was clenching and unclenching around his cock repeatedly and it was driving him wild. Viktor held Yuuri’s thigh with one hand, keeping the other on the ground to help his balance, and his nails were digging into Yuuri’s skin, leaving indentations in his smooth skin.
He angled his thrusts in the right way to hit Yuuri’s prostate every time, and Yuuri hissed, bringing one of his hands to his own hair and pulling on it, completely overwhelmed.
Viktor let go of Yuuri’s thigh when he felt his orgasm building dangerously fast in the pit of his stomach, making his toes curl and his body get more and more aggressive. He jerked Yuuri’s cock quickly, dragging his thumb on the slit just like he knew his fiancé liked, and if he could brand the image of Yuuri, thrashing around violently before coming so hard Viktor thought his cock would get crushed inside of him, he would.
With how tight Yuuri had become after coming, Viktor had his own orgasm almost punched out of him, sucking at Yuuri’s neck and coming inside of him for what felt like minutes on end, but was probably just a few moments. When he came back from his high, he released Yuuri’s neck and was very satisfied to see a very visible mark that would probably stay for a few days.
When Viktor pulled his cock out of Yuuri carefully and looked back at his fiancé, he looked vaguely annoyed.
“Did you really need to give me a hickey right there?” he asked, covering the mark with one of his hands. “It’s gonna be a pain to cover it.”
“Then don’t,” Viktor said, looking way too happy with himself, and lifting Yuuri’s hand to give the mark a short kiss. “Show everyone you’re mine.”
“We have _rings_ to show that.”
Viktor chuckled and kissed Yuuri, just a touch of their lips, with no wild lust driving them both crazy.
“Can you tell me what brought all of this on?”
Yuuri smiled, his cheeks blushing for more than the effort of the sex they just had. It seemed like he was going back to his normal, shy self. Viktor loved him.
“Well… I figured I might as well give you a better version of that banquet, while sober and knowing what I was doing.”
Viktor gave him a look.
Yuuri looked away. “Chris might have commented that he found a guy who could install a pole for a good price because he was thinking about surprising his boyfriend. It might have gotten me interested.”
Viktor laughed loudly. “Oh, Yuuri,” he said, his voice softening. He kissed Yuuri again.
“Now, we really need to take a shower. I feel disgusting.” Yuuri said, gently pushing Viktor away from him.
Viktor hoped that meant a round two. |
9179a1ea55f146f3a240c3af5969b215 | ['509f5adee0e74ee8aac39d5fdff31248'] | It's as awkward as he imagined. MJ looks around, everywhere but at him and he tries to follow her gaze and figure out what she's thinking but the silence stretches as they stand next to each other. She finally gives him a little glance and nods to the bag she has slung over her shoulder.
"I brought stuff."
"Oh, you can put your bag in my room. It's this way." He gestures to the hallway, hand waving around until he overthinks it and lets it drop. She follows him without hesitation and Peter decides it’s only awkward if he lets it be. This is the girl he’s friends with. The girl who lets him sleep under the same blanket and tangle limbs till morning.
"I'm cleared for the night. I said I was staying over at a friend's after a study session. Didn't even get questioned."
"It's a little messy, I haven't been home much." It's still daylight out when he leads her into his room with a sly smile at his joke.
"Yeah, I heard you've been bugging this girl almost every night and hogging the blankets."
"Hey! I do not. I didn't even get any of the blanket the other night." He didn't. She'd wrapped herself tight in a blanket burrito and refused to budge.
"Maybe you should bring your own." MJ drops the bag on the bed and takes a seat next to it. "Your aunt is cool with me being here or are we pretending I'm not?"
"I told her I asked a friend over for a movie night, she said it's okay." He has a girl in his room. His brain isn't quite functioning. _Is it hot in here?_
"So you actually want to watch a movie?"
"Well...yeah? What else would we do?" On the list of questions he should not ask, that's got to be right near the top. He's not unaffected by her, he's quite affected. His imagination offers up a long list of things and none of them involve watching a movie but all of them make him feel like his face is on fire.
"Just thought we're exhausted so you'd want to sleep and you just said that to get me here earlier." She's back to looking around but she's smiling softly. Peter has to clench his fist when she reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear. He tries and fails to look away from her, to look somewhere else and extinguish the ache to reach for her.
"N-no."
"Okay, so you get the popcorn. I just want to put my pjs on since you beat me to it and then meet you in the living room?"
"Sounds great." He leaves the room in a rush, scrambling to get out, needing air. He hears the door shut, his door.
For some reason it didn't register that she's changing in his room until he heard the click and he's just going to assume there's no air in the living room anymore because it's hard to breathe. Things are changing between them, it's obvious in the thump in his chest and the way he drops the bag of popcorn two times before he gets it in the microwave.
It was just a plan, just supposed to help them sleep. He's not sure how or when it became more but as he's listening to the hum of the microwave and the popping coming from within, Peter is fully aware that this night is a big step.
______________________________
Michelle takes her time exploring Peter's room. There's something about running her finger over the knickknacks on his desk that puts a smile on her face. This silly nerdy boy is turning her insides to goo and she's not as mad about it as she used to be. His room is everything she thought it would be. Not that she's thought about being in his bedroom. Okay, she has but not a lot.
Being alone in someone's bedroom feels intimate, like a secret shared between two lovers or something only the closest of friends experience. She hasn't really had a lot of friends...or boys who are a little more than friends. Her cheeks heat and her heart beats wildly against her ribs. This is his personal space, the place he goes to that's all _him_. It's his likes, hobbies, personality all rolled up into one perfectly Peter Parker room.
MJ isn't sure why she ends up standing in front of his closet, it's just a spot where her feet decided to land. She didn't purposefully wander over. However, when she reaches to open it, it's one hundred percent intentional. She's just snooping, and it's rude maybe but if this is what he feels every time he's in her room then he has more willpower than she does. Or possibly just better manners.
She knows she's taking too long but there's no way Peter Parker will step foot back into this room knowing she's possibly getting undressed. He's too much of a gentleman. So, she takes just a little longer to get her bag and search for the leggings she brought. If she thought it was intimate to be in his room by herself, it's a whole new level when it hits her that she's about to strip out of her clothes.
The bathroom would've been a neutral territory, but she's already here. She changes quickly and tries not to look around at all the things that scream 'this is Peter's bedroom' while slipping on the leggings. However, she pauses when she reaches for the shirt she brought, it's thin and his room feels cool. At least that's what she tells herself when she zips her bag and fishes one of his shirts off the hanger. | 6f41e6207b164884b6c462b1f4893056 | ['509f5adee0e74ee8aac39d5fdff31248'] | She has his gaze locked with hers, has his palms sweating and his lungs aching for air. Her mouth opens, closes, and now Peter feels like he's the one about to throw up.
"You...what?"
"Um, I-I love you, MJ." It's true, might as well just stand his ground.
She doesn't say anything, just knocks the cards to the floor and launches herself across the couch. Straight into him, her arms wrapping around his neck and he loves her. He loves this. He loves the way she hugs him tight and the heat of her body against his.
He breathes her in, pressing closer. Silence settles but he doesn't need anything more than her heated breath against his cheek. He doesn't care that it's because she can't breathe through her nose. He's more than happy with the press of her lips to his in the next moment.
The fear he's had about letting those words slip out disappears when her hands cup his face. He leans back in when she backs away, chasing her mouth to catch her lips again. Just one more taste, one more kiss. She breaks it with a soft laugh.
"You would say that to me when I have snot running down my face."
Peter bumps his nose to hers. "You're snot free."
"For the record, I would have won that round too."
"No, I totally had you." He didn't but they'll never know. He could have made a come back. He's just going to believe it would have been his win.
She's kept her distance until now, holding his hand, sitting a foot or more away. But now she's close and he doesn't let go. He's not sure how they go from kissing, to lying on the couch, neither bothering to pick up the mess they've made of cards.
However, he's in no rush to move away. He couldn't if he wanted to, okay well he could. He can easily lift her but he doesn't. He'd be crazy to move her when she's sprawled over him, cuddled against his side.
It's when she nuzzles closer, feverish but alert, that Peter slips his hand up to her nape, presses a kiss to her temple.
"Peter?"
"Yeah?" He can feel her heartbeat, the way her lungs expand when she sucks in a deep breath.
And then she steals his.
"I love you back."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Follow me on twitter if you want @ mjheartspeter
>
> Sorry for the slight delay, I own a small business so that takes the majority of my time but thank you guys so much for the comments and reads on this. You've been amazing and so nice to me.
14. Intertwine
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Nightmares, fluff, showers, and unexpected interruptions
>
> Peter learns a little more about MJ.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> WARNINGS: mild panic attack, mentions of alcoholism
Some nights he wakes in a cold sweat, tears streaming and sitting straight up before he's even opened his eyes. His chest aches as if it's been ripped apart, lungs on fire when he gasps for air. On those nights, like this one, Peter feels the warmth of hands on his shoulders and face before he can focus on what's happening.
"You're okay. You're with me." He hears the words, feels them wash over but his heart still pounds loud and unsteady against his ribs. "Peter, look at me."
He does. For a second he can't focus and she's a blur. His vision clears when she leans closer. MJ. It's always MJ here with him. Except for the times when he's alone and she's not and then he's panicking. Always panicking.
"Peter, breathe."
He does his best to listen, to try. Sucking in a deep breath, letting it out slowly when she crawls into his lap. Another breath and her hands settle. One on his shoulder and the other on his cheek.
"Good. Now look around for me. Where are we?"
He'd protest but she doesn't give him the chance. She presses her fingers against his jaw, steady and sure, turning him. He pulls his eyes from hers, letting her be the guide. Another breath and he's taking in the disheveled bookshelf, the bulletin board he's tacked notes to, and the clothes strewn over the floor. He couldn't get her out of them fast enough.
Being in her room, alone, knowing they didn't have to worry about interruptions had started the night off well. The moment he'd crawled through the window, pulled his mask off and started talking about the armed robbery he stopped on the way over had led to her smiling, listening intently, kissing him when he got so into his story he forgot to take a breath. Then she'd kissed him a little more urgently.
It's real. It happened. He's not trapped.
"Your room." It comes out quieter than he wants. Too shaky, too vulnerable. "With you."
Clearing his throat, he turns back to meet her gaze but the worry he finds there rips a hole in his chest. Worrying her has never been something he wants. He's always tried to avoid it and yet, he always seems to be doing it.
He doesn't notice his hands fisted in the blanket until she reaches to gently tug one free. Peter lives in the moment his heart calms, the second it begins to slow and beat steadier. MJ presses their fingers against her ribs, then flattens her palm over the back of his hand to hold him in place.
The heat of her skin draws his eyes down. He's not fighting, he's not being tackled or pinned or almost killed. Instead, the tips of his fingers are on MJ and she's the one in front of him. She's the one pinning him, grounding him through touch. It's her.
"You're right here with me." The lump in his throat shifts. He doesn't tell her about the nightmare, the fear tangling his thoughts. |
9182e05c690844358b034c0093748950 | ['50a0f1c8604a4ebea2936d044bd0e032'] | A rough slap comes across my cheek. But this time I can’t keep myself from gasping in pain. The punch to my gut that follows knocks the wind right out of me. Lorelei smirks as I try and catch my breath. A long pointed fingernail moves up to trail down my cheek. “You really think you stand a chance with him? When he could have me instead?” she purrs. “He’ll never come for you. If he shows up, he’s here to be with me.” Another punch hits me. I’m panicking now. The pain is overwhelming now, but somehow it’s more emotional pain rolling over me. What if she’s right? I scream out at her “No!” as she continues laughing and beating me.
“Cara! CARA WAKE UP!” I hear faintly. My whole body is being lightly shaken by cool hands. I wake up, opening my eyes to see Loki hovering over me, concern etched plainly on his features. He pulls me into his arms, stroking my hair and whispering gently. I’m still trembling from the stress of the nightmare. Worse still, I can’t help myself from feeling unsure of Loki now. Thor was the one who sent her away. Loki seemed content to stand by and watch. Why would he be content with me? I hate myself for stiffening in his arms, for feeling this doubt after all we’ve shared, but I can’t help it.
And of course Loki notices right away. “Cara, what’s wrong?” He tugs on my chin gently so that I’m looking up at him. I close my eyes, not ready to meet his gaze. His voice goes low and he growls out “Little Bird, do not hide from me. Tell me what’s wrong.” He’s not going to read me unless I allow it, but he’s not going to stop until I tell him. For someone who was once known as the God of Lies, he abhors any falsehood from those he holds dear. I’m sure I could analyze that into something involving his heritage and adoption, but I don’t have time for that now. He’s still waiting for my response. I swallow before whispering “Am I enough for you?”
There’s complete silence in the room after my question. I open my eyes and see him staring at me with tears in his eyes. “Darling, have I not let you know how much you mean to me?” he questions quietly. “I thought I lost you. I was so afraid… I couldn’t bear to be without you. Why would you even think that?” My trembling increases as the memory of my nightmare comes roaring back. I stutter out what had been the subject of the dream. Loki’s face as he listens is a mixture of emotions. When I finish he holds me tighter against his body. “Little Bird, I love you. I did not ever love her. I used her for my own designs, and that’s all. She was a means to an end. But you,” he squeezed me and planted a soft kiss to my lips, “You are the woman I love. I would have come and found you even if Fury hadn’t insisted I bring along the others. I would not have left you there.” His lips meet mine again with passion now. When he pulls back he whispers hoarsely “Cara I love you desperately. I belong to you and you alone.”
My heart thuds at his words. I snuggle down into his embrace, my trembling replaced by a shiver of delight. He lifts my face again to begin leaving soft kisses down my neck. He continues whispering “I love you Cara… Don’t ever leave me… I’m yours darling…” and his hands roam over my body. As he touches me every nerve feels lit on fire. I reach up to run my fingers through his hair. His low growl excites me as he pulls my sleep shirt off my body. His lips move to nibble on my ear before he growls out “I’m going to show you exactly how much I love you, how I desire you, and how I need you.” His fingers begin making slow teasing trails up and down my legs. Quickly he pulls at my panties and drags them off of me. When his fingers make their way back up and start teasing at my waiting wetness, our groans blend together roughly. Two long fingers begin thrusting in and out slowly, building a rhythm that is designed to drive me crazy. I begin babbling, begging for more, and he answers my plea with a wicked grin and increased speed. A garbled cry of joy rips from my lips as I cum around his fingers.
I hazily expect him to move and enter me, but I can see by the teasing glint in his eyes that he has other plans. He slithers down and brings my legs up over his shoulders. I gasp and buck up as his tongue delves into me. Long swipes of his tongue against me make me squirm and cry out again. I can hear him murmuring words of approval and delight at my reaction. I start screaming his name as I cum again. The shaking of my body is overwhelming, and I begin pleading with Loki “Please, wait… too much…” and he chuckles against my skin. With a kiss to my hips he move back up to hold me, his pajama pants disappearing. As I come down from my high I feel him leaving gentle kisses on my shoulders, moving down to nibble and suck on my breasts teasingly. His soft words travel to my ears “I love you Little Bird, I love you.” I sigh, a peace and contentment washing over me. | 29061a8225bc41b4bfd3bad3b90fce25 | ['50a0f1c8604a4ebea2936d044bd0e032'] | Since Tom hadn’t actually planned on us eating at his house, “dessert” was getting into his stash of chocolates that he buys himself when he travels. He grins as he lays out the selection on the coffee table. “Here darling,” he murmurs, “Try this.” I reach out for the chocolate he holds in his hand, but he pulls his hand back teasingly. “No, no, darling, allow me.” I tilt my head and frown. What does he mean? He raises the chocolate and brings it up to my lips. Oh… I giggle and allow my lips to part slowly. The sweet candy tastes heavenly. I can’t help the soft moan that happens from the flavors. “Mint filling, that’s one of my favorites,” I mumble. His grin is infectious. Then with a glance toward his shelves full of movies he asks “Shall we just sit back and enjoy a movie? It will be nice and relaxing, and chocolates and a movie sound about perfect to me.” I nod, and tell him “I’ll let you pick, it looks like you have quite the selection.” He shakes his head and answers “No, darling, I insist.” He takes my hands and pulls me up off the sofa, catching me off guard. “You come over here and pick one.”
The momentum causes me to land against his chest. I place my hands against him and immediately wonder why I decided to do that. His chest is firm and toned, and I find myself smoothing over his shirt slowly. I’m trying to make myself pull back a bit, but the only message my brain is sending out is along the lines of “HHHHHhhhhnnnnnnnggggggg” and I can’t move. The desire to kiss him again is starting to take hold of me. His eyes drift down to my lips and my stomach turns a little flip when I realize he’s thinking the same thing. One of his hands stays closed over mine to keep them over his heart and the other comes around my neck. I can faintly feel his heart pounding harder when our lips meet.
This kiss has warmth with a hint of passion and tenderness, everything a kiss should be. His hand is holding me with just enough pressure to show his desire, but not so much as to hurt or scare me. When he pulls back, his lips are curved in a sweet smile. “Mmm,” he moans, “Mint chocolate, one of my favorites.” A tiny laugh bursts from my lips and I hide my face in his neck for a moment. He holds me close against his body and I relax against him. I feel so calm now, so unusual considering what happened only a few hours ago. With a kiss to my cheek he whispers “Come on, come pick a movie.”
I scan the many options before my eyes land on one title and I squeal. “You have ‘Dirty Dancing’? Really?” He chuckles at my reaction. “It’s a classic, and I contend it’s one of the most romantic movies.” Pulling it off the shelf, I wave it triumphantly. “Then this is my pick.” He snatches the case from me and gives me a soft kiss on the cheek. “Wonderful choice, darling,” he grins. When he turns away I do something so cheesy I almost hate myself. My hand comes up to where he kissed me. For some reason, that little kiss means as much as that first kiss. Maybe it’s because it seemed natural, almost like something second nature. I smile as I curl up on the sofa and pull the blanket back over my legs. Once he’s got things set up, he lopes back over and sits next to me, wrapping one long arm around me and tugs me closer. Grabbing a handful of chocolate bars he grins. “Let’s enjoy the show, love.”
We find ourselves quoting lines together and singing with the songs. He randomly unwraps chocolates to feed them to me. This has become the nicest after-attack evening ever. Our bodies snuggle closer together naturally, and I’m leaning back against that strong firm chest that had me so worked up earlier. He seems to emanate heat, warming me up completely. One of my ears is just right for hearing his soft heartbeat. That gentle rhythm gets me even more calmed and relaxed. As Baby crawls toward Johnny, my eyes flutter shut.
Sunshine, bright sunshine, wakes me. My eyes open slowly, and every nerve in me reacts when I realize I’m not in my flat. I’m in a strange bedroom in a large bed. I lift up the covers and sigh in relief. At least my dress is still on me. It dawns on me that I must be in Tom’s room. Turning my head, I can faintly smell his aftershave on the pillowcase. I sit up and take in my reflection in the mirror across the room. It’s not horrific. I wipe small remnants of my makeup from under my eyes and then stand up. I want to go find Tom and thank him for taking care of me.
I tiptoe downstairs slowly, unsure in the quiet atmosphere. I hear soft rustling and head to the living room. The sight that greets me sends a thrill and ache through me. Tom is curled up asleep on the sofa. He shifts again and sighs in his sleep. I stand and watch him for a moment, just enjoying the chance to study him. I can barely see that his chest is bare under the blankets and a vision of sleeping curled up against his chest flashes in my mind. Shaking my head, I decide on something that can maybe show how grateful I am for his kindness and care. |
3917b347a6904d1d9a13bc934d3b2263 | ['50bd5340c6cd4822b32464a1c9a387f0'] | “Of course you were,” he’d said, while inside, he shattered apart.
Of _course_ Stephanie Brown had really been Robin, if only Bruce hadn’t been too self-absorbed to realize it before she was running on fumes and her last handful of heartbeats.
\---
Bruce is uncomfortably aware that he is being _used_.
When a two day stopover in Gotham before traveling to Korea on Batman Inc business had turned into a month-long stay due to injuries sustained during patrol, Dick had looked shockingly satisfied under the concern.
“At least now you’ll stay for longer than a handful of days,” he poked Bruce carefully in the unbandaged part of his chest, “and spend some time with your _family_.”
Bruce couldn’t muster the energy for a proper Bat-glare, so he settled for coughing disdainfully into his arm.
Then, today, before heading down to the Bat bunker, Dick had looked in on Bruce reading in bed, and said with a manic grin, “Be sure to rest up now and be ready to be up late, Bruce.”
Bruce felt the dread really seep in when Damian stuck his face under Dick’s arm and nodded agreement.
“Tonight is the night for strengthening our familial bonds, Father, as Grayson informed you. Your conscious presence is required.”
Dick had winked at him. “I even got special permission from Alfie.”
And now, Bruce is watching the steady, almost endless stream of people into his room. All carrying bowls of ice-cream.
First Barbara wheels herself in, bowl of mint chocolate chip balanced carefully on her legs, and tosses him a bright smile before placing herself next to the armchair. Tim walks in a moment later with a light brown ice-cream scoop, and folds himself onto the foot of Bruce’s bed. Bruce detects a faint whiff of coffee, which in his opinion is a little excessive, but he knows better than to voice that out loud. Cassandra and Stephanie walk in side-by-side, Stephanie chattering quickly while Cass giggles and nods. Cass immediately drapes herself on the bed next to Bruce as well, cradling her Rocky Road easily and nudging Tim over to make room. Stephanie gives Bruce a tentative smile and then takes her ridiculously colorful ice-cream over to the armchair next to Barbara. Finally, Dick strolls in with two bowls of ice-cream in his arms, and hands one over to Bruce before settling down on the floor at Barbara’s feet.
It’s vanilla, with…black sprinkles? Bruce looks closer. With _Batman sprinkles._
He isn’t sure what his face is doing right this moment, but whatever it is, it causes Tim to snort loudly and Stephanie to dissolve into helpless giggles while the rest snicker and Dick grins mercilessly, eyes twinkling.
“They’re actually really popular, Bruce, you can find them in every grocery store in Gotham.”
In the middle of the general ruckus Damian walks in and sniffs haughtily at all of them. Bruce holds his breath as he glares at Tim on Bruce’s bed for a moment, but then he storms over to Dick and looks grudgingly pleased at the hand Dick drags through his hair.
This sets off another round of laughter that Bruce can’t help but join, can’t help but _treasure_ , because Dick was right, he doesn’t spend enough time with his family. He breathes easier than he has since he fought his way back to the present as Alfred walks in with his own scoop and a DVD, as Dick rubs a spot of ice-cream off of Damian’s nose, as Tim and Stephanie bicker loudly over the sadly ignored movie (“Coffee ice-cream, Tim, _really??_ ” “Well, it’s better than whatever that sugary mess is!” “ _Birthday cake,_ Tim, it’s practically cake inside ice-cream, this is what heaven tastes like.”).
However, an hour in, ice-creams finished, and peace largely restored, they all jolt into high alert when there is a distant tinkle of broken glass from the ground floor.
Cass is actually almost through the window to investigate before Dick calms everyone down and explains, “I, uh, may have gotten Jason a tub of ice-cream and broken into his house to put it in his fridge.” He rubs his head sheepishly. “There’s a possibility he didn’t take that so well.”
Sure enough, there is video footage of Jason in his Red Hood getup flashing the camera two middle fingers after lobbing an ice-cream tub through the glass of the front door.
But the tub of Neapolitan is empty. And again, Bruce breathes easy. It’s a start.
At some point in the night half of them fall asleep on the other half, sprawling and snoring unashamedly, but Bruce lies awake watching them all.
Bruce is no poet; he prefers dealing with blows and puzzles rather than slippery words, but he knows what he would name the fragile warmth sitting low in his chest that tingles all the way to his fingertips and soothes electric touches across the dark places in his mind.
_Home_.
**Author's Note:**
> Any and all comments are welcome and greatly appreciated! :) | 0cd12ce2a7034babbcb3129613d15014 | ['50bd5340c6cd4822b32464a1c9a387f0'] | He arrives at the medbay to find the rest of the mission squad—Conner, Cassie, and Jaime—littered through the hallway, the two younger members cringing every time their teammate’s cries shatter the silence. Bewildered, he turns to Conner, who only nods at the doors leading to Robin’s room. Mal peers through the small circular window and sees Nightwing holding down a thrashing Robin as doctors flit in and out of the frame, shouting unheard directions to unseen partners.
Mal isn’t sure how long he stands there; he wonders if it is possible for time to malfunction, because hours and minutes and seconds alternate between slipping past in lumps and clots and dripping lazily by, reducing the action through the window to snapshots. Everything creaks to a stop for a moment after one doctor points at the restraints on the bed, but Nightwing waves him away and then bends over Robin, hands splayed across his jaw and nape, mouth stretched in a furious call—Mal dimly registers that the word Nightwing is silently calling is too short and staccato to be Robin—when time flips to a new picture and Robin’s hands suddenly move, lightning-quick, to anchor themselves desperately in Nightwing’s elbows, his neck jerking to finally lock eyes with the older man, entire body taut and shivering with the effort.
The doctors don’t point to the restraints after that.
Soon after, time gathers its addled remnants and begins marching at a steady pace again.
The two brothers are still locked in their tentative sanctuary, Nightwing’s elbows under Robin’s grasp and Nightwing’s hands on his face tethering the boy somewhat to reality. Nightwing is muttering an unheard stream to Robin, unflinching even as the other’s hands tighten to white streaks on his armor, and Mal is sure bruises are blooming even through Kevlar.
There’s a sudden energy in the whirl of movement in the room.
Nightwing breaks eye contact only once, glancing upwards as a doctor rushes over with a syringe and gently plunges the contents into Robin’s arm. Slowly, softly, Robin’s hands unclench and fall to the bed. His body finally unwinds. He sleeps.
Mal releases a breath he’s been holding since time broke, and he and Conner gently nudge Cassie and Jaime awake. Soundlessly, they file into the room.
They slide into seats around the bed, Cassie reaching out to tentatively hold a limp hand. Nightwing has shifted to a seat near Robin’s head and is gently carding his fingers through the boy’s hair, but he’s directing a frosty glare at the wall above his head.
“It was an unstable, mutated variant of Scarecrow’s toxin.” His voice is flat, but there’s a warning rippling though it; a dark undercurrent.
From the other side of the bed Jaime lets out a low moan.
“We didn’t know the creep was _there_. And then right after we split up all comms went down and when we regrouped _Robin didn’t turn up_.”
Jaime shakes his head and looks down at his teammate. “He was only missing for 5 minutes—10 tops.”
Nightwing lets out a small growl and Mal tenses at the waves of cold fury rolling off of him. Conner seems to understand the deadly threat implied and starts to speak. “You can’t go after—“
Whip-like, Nightwing swivels and levels Conner with a dark, withering glare that stands all of Mal’s hairs on end and brings Conner to a stuttering halt. Somewhere to his right he hears Cassie squeak.
Just as quickly, Nightwing turns the brunt of his glare back to the wall, and they return to a brooding silence. As Mal watches Nightwing rub soothing circles into Robin’s head, he wonders if Scarecrow is celebrating somewhere, or if he is plagued by nightmares of an avenging blue shadow.
In any case, he’s sure that Scarecrow will soon be treated to a nightmare darker than any he can concoct.
\---------------------------------
The villains—as always—are the last to fully comprehend the fury that is Nightwing.
No, Barbara amends, the _thugs_ are the last to understand because they are still here in this warehouse resolutely guarding them even though their boss slipped out ten minutes ago, nodding grimly at some communication she’d just received.
_Too stupid to realize she’s labelled them collateral damage and ditched them_ , she thinks bitterly, _but not stupid enough to forget that no boss means they can play with the prisoners._
She tests the shackles on her hands and ankles again—her sprained ankle twinges vengefully—and then turns a baleful glare at the smirking guard walking towards the cage. La’gaan begins wriggling in his bonds from his position hog-tied on the floor next to her and to her left Karen is still, too still, blood sluggishly leaking from a gash in her side.
She’s tensing for a blow, biting sharply into her gag, when four unconscious guards come swinging down from the ceiling, wrapped together like produce. They swivel back and forth for a minute, a twisted pendulum, until the line cuts and they land on the ground with a soft thud.
There’s a soft cackle from the twisting shadows above, haunting and lifeless.
The guards below kick into high-alert, gunfire shattering the darkness where the taunt came from. In response another four bodies are lowered to the floor on the opposite end of the warehouse.
Beside her, La’gaan utters a muffled laugh and despite herself, Barbara’s heart rate kicks up a notch.
There’s another hail of fruitless gunfire—Barbara can’t resist a feral smile because if they think shooting him will be any easier than impaling a shadow they clearly don’t know who they are dealing with—and then another human package is rolled down, just a single person this time, and female.
The boss.
And next to her, uncurling with feline grace, lands Nightwing.
Pandemonium breaks loose. |
65161b2bee9640bf8f978a7f08bb381b | ['5111f690c1f94c9daf62d82365256c48'] | "You think I give a shit?" Daryl said, anger and relief making his voice tight. "You could have died."
"People die, darling. And I will too, one day." Rick whispered, staring into his eyes.
"No. Not you, Alpha. I can't..." _I can't stand it_. Rick pulled him in for a hug then, putting his face between Daryl's neck and shoulder, breathing him in. His body shielded Daryl's vulnerable state away from the view of the people that were gathering there.
"From now on, we do this together Rick. Don't pull the 'Omega should stay home' shit on me, 'cause it ain't gon' work no more."
"You know that's not what I mean right." Rick pulled back a little and Daryl almost whined from the loss of warm contact.
"Yeah." Daryl nodded, sighing. "So we do this together, or we do nothing, 'kay? Just wait till it's my turn to go on a run."
The Alpha let out a low chuckle.
"Together, then," Rick told him, his eyes crinkling at the corner, and Daryl purred softly in content, knowing that his Alpha meant more than the runs. They'd never thought of it seriously, not until now. Not when they hadn't found a place safe enough to make it possible. The idea of having a pup with Rick was so pleasant that Daryl had had a hard time hiding his embarrassing purring whenever he thought about it. But now they'd arrived here, in Alexandria, and Rick must have deemed the place safe enough to trigger Daryl's first ever heat. To breed him properly like how they both wanted.
The Alpha was about to leave and help to unload the goods when he faltered in his tracks and turned around. For a short moment, Rick's pretty blue eyes flickered with red, and he asked. "Daryl, is your scent changing?"
"Is it?"
"Yeah, it's-" Rick took in a long breath of air, his nostrils flaring. "sweeter."
The heat. It has arrived, Daryl could feel it now. The chances of getting pregnant outside of heats were small, but they're there. That's why Rick had asked him to stay at home to 'rest' after last night. Being close to their newly mated Alpha helped the Omegas' heat to arrive faster. Daryl suddenly sensed a hot flare of _something_ go down his spine, spreading and spreading until he could feel the first trickle of slick start to run down his thigh.
"Rick, _shit_ , I think..." Daryl squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his cheeks starting to burn with arousal. He knew his eyes were showing gold to match Rick's flickering red, and his Alpha smelled _so good_ . It was this special scent when Rick was aroused that he'd smell like this, pine trees and burned sweetgrass and _hunger_.
"Yeah, I know. You're in heat, my Omega." Rick licked his lips before smiling gently at him, and Daryl's knees would have buckled under him if it wasn't for Rick's steady hold on his arm and waist. The Alpha waved off a worried-looking Carol only to see her nod in understanding before starting to walk them back to their house. “Need you Alpha.” Daryl felt like his body was on fire and Rick was the only one who could give him what he wanted, _needed_.
"You'll be okay, darling. I'll take care of you." The Alpha promised and Daryl nodded, squirming when another trickle of slick was released. Of that, he didn't have to doubt at all. Maybe they could make this work, after all. Daryl wouldn’t dare to guarantee the result, but he sure as hell would try first. He leaned against Rick’s chest and felt his heart beat in a calming rhythm. | e4676f06f81d401192c52109acbb51d3 | ['5111f690c1f94c9daf62d82365256c48'] | The bartender didn’t try to counter him with questions about his choice of food but let him took his time. He’s not hungry really, it just the urge to visit old places had taken him here and besides he’d love to enjoy the freedom before going back to Atlanta. Dwight sent message for him every day, that’s right, _every single day._ From an outsider's view you’d think they’re a couple, but the truth was one of the messages was a polite condolence, the rest of them was to nag Rick to come back to the company. _The computer can’t work on itself, Ricky, just like the money can’t be poured in your pocket by their_ _own free will. You--_ _gotta_ _work._ That scrawny guy had said. Rick wouldn’t disagree, of course he understood it, if they didn’t make him work at the weekend more than not and sometimes sent him work orders at 4 in the fucking morning.
Rick sighed.
“You think lasagna will do? I came here with only Egg Rolls in my head so,” He confessed.
“It’s the second most famous one of us so yeah, think you should give it a go.” Stormy Eyes chuckled and fetched the custom notebook, and looked up at Rick through the fringe of his hair. Oh don’t ask him where that nickname came from. It just suited the guy.
Rick finally gave up in the battle of choosing what to eat and made his choice with lasagna and a bottle of Bud. Stormy Eyes disappeared behind the kitchen door to stick the order up and started to scream bloody murder at one of the cooks for something Rick couldn’t make out of. On the wall next to the liquor shelves were the wood board shelves which had some dusty things on it. A bunch of keys, a green bow, or a well-folded jacket although its color had gotten dull. He wondered idly why they’re so rusty. The rain was still falling outside.
“God damnit, Merle.” The bartender came back out and looked ready to punch something. “Already told the fucker not to mess up the ordered food. Gluttonous...” And all the other words left came out mumbling.
Rick almost, smiled at that. But then the phone chimed in his pocket and he winced. Speak of the Devil.
**_You got at least 4_ ** ** _requests needed to be done next week. Please hurry and drag_** ** _your_** ** _ass back here asap or I’d love to give_ ** ** _this_ ** ** _position_** ** _to another_** ** _person then_** ** _you don’t have to come back at all._ **
**_From your Manager._ **
He clenched his jaws and breathed deeply once. Rick was a well-controlled man so he schooled his expression pretty well but _God_ did this one make his hackles raise. He didn’t answer and just slipped it back in.
“You alright man?” Stormy Eyes asked him concerningly, his hand slowing from the cleaning. Rick smiled at him and spoke with his practiced calm voice. “I’m alright.” The other man regarded him with a skeptical look but didn’t say anything. After a while he suddenly huffed out a small laugh.
“Guess city life’s hard on you huh?”
Rick’s eyes got wide. “What...how’d you know I’m living in a city?”
“Well, it’s kinda easy to guess. You lived here ‘fore right? Most of the people leave the county to go to the city to find jobs. Although the chance might be even slimmer there.”
“Hmm not a lucky guess then”. Rick said amazedly. “You’re really observant.”
The man somehow got a faint blush on his face and ducked his head. Rick found it weirdly endearing. “So how is it?”
“It’s not so bad.” The sounds of the other customers' talking suddenly filled the space between them. For a moment Rick wanted to keep them there, but then he’s pissed off with himself and said again.
“Okay, alright. It sucks.”
“Damn right.” Stormy Eyes showed his lopsided smile. “I still remember you got these little coins that used to be your happiness, now the money just turned into a burden.”
“What do you mean?” Rick confused, _again_. This guy was making him crazy.
“We’ve met before Rick.” The other man’s eyes sparkled under the fluorescent lights. “Or _I’_ ve seen you before. Guess you don’t even know my name.” He rolled his eyes after correcting.
“Too bad it’s true though. So how did you meet me then? We’re in the same school or something?”
“Nah. So when I was small I sometimes saw you in here with your father. My mom worked as a waitress for this place at the time so when I came home from school I’s always here waiting for her. And you Jesus, every time you’re here you’d start rambling about your precious coin collection, loud enough for me who sat in a corner could even hear ‘em.” Stormy Eyes chuckled. And Rick slowly recollected, once upon a time, there’s a kid whose blonde hair’s so bright it’s almost platinum, he’s slim and had a beauty spot on his face. He always sat alone, quietly looking out the window. Now and then he’d turn his attention toward Rick, listening curiously to his cheerful stories that he’s telling his father. The kid never went to Rick, just merely sitting there watching the world with his smoldering blue eyes.
“Ahh, I remember you now! So you’re that lurking kid!”
“What the hell man? That’s my nickname in your mind?” Stormy Eyes groaned and this time Rick chuckled.
“ What’s your name then?”
“Daryl. Dixon.”
Daryl Dixon. The name flowed smoothly on his tongue when he tested it with his mouth closed. “Nice to meet you, Daryl.” Rick gave out his hand. Stormy Eyes – Daryl – brought out his to catch it with warm callous fingers. “Likewise, Rick.” |
8213a5a97a2442b19348e63442773fc1 | ['511a9f79439143dba3d26aac307ec7e5'] | Thought of home and her mom sent a pang of homesickness through her. Or maybe it was a pang of period cramps.
Andrea was more than half-finished with her soup when Fili and Kili came racing out of the woods. They weren’t holding their bowls, she noticed. Their tense expressions were more worrisome.
Thorin stood up, setting aside his bowl. Tension rippled through the Company.
“What is it?” Thorin demanded, his back to Andrea.
“Trolls, took the ponies,” Kili said between quick pants.
“Sent the burglar. He got caught,” Fili finished, rubbing his chest and taking carefully measured breaths.
Thorin didn’t even pause. “Get your weapons,” he ordered.
The Company leapt into action, taking up arms and dousing the fire. Thorin picked up his scabbard, belting it about his waist. His gaze fell on Andrea.
Andrea looked back up at him. Something like fear writhed in her chest. The shrieks of Orcs in the Lone Lands had been bad enough, but being this close to actual trolls was absolutely terrifying.
Thorin considered her for a moment, a frown on his face. He took a step forward, pulling something out of his belt. It turned out to be a dagger when he held it out to her. “Go into the woods that way,” he said, nodding to the woods opposite where Kili and Fili had come from. “Don’t go far. Stay hidden.”
Andrea took the dagger from him, her fingers brushing uncomfortably against his rough palm. She couldn’t think of anything to say, so she just nodded. Thorin gave a curt nod in response, turning to his Company. He made a quick gesture, and then they were off– a horde of stampeding, four foot ten bears.
Andrea stared at the rustling underbrush that closed behind them. The dagger was heavy in her hand.
What if something went wrong? What if one of her actions in the past few weeks had changed things? What if the brief delay Thorin had taken had caused Bilbo to be killed! Too many possibilities, but Andrea was paralyzed.
She had to make a decision, right here, right now.
It felt like she was tearing at something inside of herself. Pulling at invisible bonds. It felt like trying to move while in the clutches of sleep paralysis.
She had to choose, had to choose, had to make a choice, right now, right now. Time was running out, she’d spent too long just sitting here already. She had to choose, had to–
With a gasp, like a drowning man breaching the surface of water, Andrea leapt to her feet and ran into the woods after the Company. Her feet crushed leaves, bushes and ferns brushed against her clothes. Her heart beat loud in her chest.
The sight of fire through the trees snapped her from her panic. Ducking down, she crept forward as quietly as she could. Voices filtered through the trees– the grunts and protests of the Company, the dialogue of the trolls.
Pressing herself against the rough bark of a tree, Andrea peeked around the broad trunk.
One of the trolls held a wriggling Bilbo, two fingers pinching the Hobbit’s head threateningly. The other two trolls were dealing with the Company, one of them wrestling Dwarves into sacks, the other tying several to a spit over the fire.
The troll in charge of putting the Company into sacks tossed the last one down. Judging by the roar of anger, it was Dwalin. “Almost done there, Tom?” the troll said to the one in charge of the spit.
“Yep. Put the burrahobbit in a sack, would ya, William? ‘E looks pretty soft, better save ‘im for dessert,” said Tom.
“Wouldn’t be more’n a mouthful for each of us,” said William, obliging to put poor Bilbo in a sack.
“A soft mouthful, though. Like a Man-kidling, you know? Sweet and chewy.” The last troll (Bert, said some seven-year old voice from the depths of Andrea’s memory) pressed his fingers together like a connoisseur. “Always nice to finish a good meal off with something chewy– good for the jaw.”
“Ain’t nothin’ good with my jaw,” said Tom, rubbing his face. “One of them Dwarves knocked some teeth out! I’ll never chew the same again!”
“And good riddance to ya!” yelled Gloin from the pile of Dwarves on the ground.
William slammed a fist on the ground so hard that the ground beneath Andrea’s feet shuddered. “Shut yer yaps! I’ve a mind to sit on you all and be done with it! Too much trouble to roast a Dwarf, I say– skin’s too hardy.”
“None of that talk! We’re gonna roast ‘em nice and fine, make a good meal of it,” said Bert, turning the spit and feeding the fire. The Dwarves on the spit shouted and swore, and one or two of them were much in danger of having their long beards caught on fire.
“I say we mince them!” said Tom. “Nothing better than minced Dwarf!”
The three trolls argued about the best way to prepare a Dwarf while the Company struggled and Andrea looked on in silent terror.
The trolls talked for some minutes, and finally settled on roasting, since it would be far too much effort to take the Dwarves off the spit now. And still, nothing.
When was Bilbo going to speak up? Or would Gandalf come and fool the trolls into arguing until the sun came up?
Wait. They hadn’t mentioned the sun at all, and hadn’t that been what had clued Bilbo into distracting them? But then where was Gandalf? Still off in a huff?
“Go on then and get those flames higher, these Dwarves won’t roast fast with a heat like that!” declared William.
“Haven’t you ever heard of the right way to prepare Dwarf?”
Andrea didn’t realize she’d even spoken until the words were out of her mouth, her tongue curling into as best an imitation of the trolls’ accents as she could get– that is, a very good imitation. | 3dde127c356a4265acea8dc075bac922 | ['511a9f79439143dba3d26aac307ec7e5'] | Gandalf kept the trolls arguing for several minutes more, throwing his voice and making them believe that one of the three had insulted the other two. Andrea watched Thorin discreetly free Dwarf after Dwarf of those trapped in sacks, each one creeping into the shadows and about to where the trolls had stashed their weapons.
“Best to sit on them and get on with it,” said the voice that absolutely had to be Gandalf. “But who to sit on first?”
“The last one we got,” Bert decided. “Took out my eye, that one did.”
“Don’t go talking to yourself,” William reprimanded. “But if you want to sit on ‘im, find ‘im. Can’t tell these Dwarves apart.”
“It was the one with the yellow stockings, wasn’t it?” Tom speculated.
“Nonsense, ‘e was the one with the grey stockings.”
“No, I’m sure it was yellow.”
“Yellow it was.”
“Then what’d you call it grey for?”
“I didn’t call anything grey, you’re going batty!”
At this point Andrea couldn’t tell who was speaking and who wasn’t, and neither could the trolls. Over all their heads, the sky lightened and brightened, a shade of blue all too lovely to see.
Then, up on a high boulder, was Gandalf. “Dawn take you all, and be stone to you!” the wizard shouted, striking the stone with his staff. With a great crack, the boulder split down the middle, sending a bright ray of sunlight blazing down on the trolls.
With a groan and a rumble, the trolls turned to stone, stooped and still in the middle of arguing.
Andrea felt like crying.
“Gandalf!” Kili called out, stepping into the clearing with his bow and quiver in hand. “We nearly had them rousted, old man!”
Gandalf’s laughed echoed down from the boulder. “I can see you were doing a quick job of it. Get your fellows down before they’re properly roasted!”
The Dwarves set about helping their friends down. Those on the spit had been stripped of their armor, so that was returned to them. Weapons were retrieved and handed out. Spirits rose very quickly.
Quiet as a mouse, Andrea thought, taking a step out from behind her tree and into the clearing. Not stealthy enough to escape Thorin, it seemed.
“You! Woman!” The Dwarf King shouted, falling back on that habit he had to call Andrea ‘woman’ whenever he was annoyed with her. He seemed far more than annoyed now, though.
Thorin stormed up to Andrea, fully kitted out with his sword and his fur-lined coat and a very angry expression. He loomed over her despite being shorter. “Have you no sense in your head?” he growled. “You could have gotten yourself caught and killed! I told you to hide, not play in the forest like a wood spirit!”
Andrea found herself breaking her promise not to speak after all this was over, the remnants of boldness that pushed her to speak to the trolls in the first place now pushing again. “I did what I could!” she said tersely. “You all would have been troll-food by now if it weren’t for me.”
“I told you to hide in the woods.” Thorin’s hand clenched on the pommel of his sword.
“You can’t tell me to do anything,” Andrea hissed. Her nails bit into her palms as she clenched her fists. “I’m not even in your Company.”
Thorin looked as though he might have something very opinionated to say on that fact. He didn’t have the time to say it, however, because Gandalf quite literally put himself between them.
“It has been a trying night, Thorin,” Gandalf said placatingly. “And while I agree that Miss Chen’s actions were risky to her own person, she had the good sense to stall for time, which none of the rest of you considered.”
Thorin made a discontented noise. His hand released his sword as he visibly restrained his temper. “And where were you, wizard?” he said after a few moments. “I doubted you’d return at all.”
“I was looking ahead,” Gandalf said primly.
Thorin raised a brow. “And what brought you back?”
“Looking behind.”
The Dwarf king frowned. “Could you be more plain?”
“Indeed not,” Gandalf replied cryptically. “But we have other matters to attend; these mountain trolls could not have traveled during the day. They must have dug a hole or cave in which to hide, and troll-holes are always full of treasures.”
Thorin nodded curtly and retreated to his Company. He ordered them to spread out and search for the troll-hole, as well as retrieve all their belongings from camp, leaving Gandalf and Andrea forgotten.
Gandalf turned to face Andrea. His beard seemed to bristle as he said, “That was very foolish of you, Miss Chen.”
Andrea crossed her arms defensively. “I did what I could until you got here.”
Gandalf bristled for a few moments more before relaxing. He smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Very foolish, but very clever as well. You’ll make a good companion to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.”
“An unwanted one,” Andrea muttered, glancing at Thorin. The Dwarf king had just finished cuffing his nephews about the head, a gruff smile on his face.
Gandalf hummed. “Thorin worries for those he has taken as his responsibility.”
Andrea glanced up at the wizard, frowning. “I’m not part of his Company.”
“But you could be, I believe. If you asked.”
“...I don’t want to.”
At this point, she couldn't be sure whether she was lying or not.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> still unsure as to whether I handled this whole thing correctly; I tried to be creative, but not too out of it. Would like to know what my readers think :)
8. Chapter 8
In the end, finding a hole big enough to house three large trolls wasn't that difficult. Bifur sniffed it out, quite literally, within a minute of beginning the search. |
49916ebda23247039f928b036cd2e67b | ['511bbfd448134d1d903e2775cdf587d7'] | Your eyes grew bigger at that, you both had thought you didn't rise any alarms when you broke into the lab after patrol to work on the tiny spider shaped spy droids for the avengers you guys had thought of, too excited to wait for the next morning and too afraid of getting caught by the avengers to use the lab in the compound.
"We have no idea what you're talking about" you said at the same time.
And then, belatedly,
"Whu- wait! We are not love birds!"
"This time, I really don't know what you are talking about!"
"We're just friends, mister Banner, really!"
"Just... Don't tell my dad, ok? He would kill us!"
"What? Why? For being... 'love birds'? Or..."
"No, dumb ass, for breaking into the lab!"
Bruce continued to walk away from you, chuckling softly.
"Oh, to be young and in love!.." | 4d6e2fdee3434bffbbc6a6ff00f3a347 | ['511bbfd448134d1d903e2775cdf587d7'] | “Actually I already saw the city yesterday” Peter wanted to punch himself: What was wrong with him? Y/n Stark had just basically asked him out and he had rejected her. And now you looked disappointed. Like, for real, for _him_.
However, as he was later going to learn, you weren’t the type to give up easily.
“But this isn’t just your first time in Berlin, is it? It’s your first time in Europe, period. Isn’t it?” you checked.
“It is” He confirmed, “Why?”
A mischievous grin, so much like your father’s, started to slowly grow on your face.
“I just had the craziest idea…”
…
You weren’t like this. You weren’t wild, you weren’t reckless, that was a Stark gene you seemed to lack. Until now, cause there was something about Peter Parker, about his wide eyed gaze, his childlike enthusiasm, that made you feel adventurous and fearless. And if you were completely honest with yourself, you wanted to impress him.
You wanted to blow his mind.
… God, you were in so much trouble.
“I can’t believe we’re really doing it, this is insane!”
“You can still back out if you want, it’s not too late” But as you said the words you knew it was a lie, it was already too late. Because you could see reflected in Peter’s big brown eyes the same madness that seemed to have overtook you. He wasn’t backing up, not for anything.
He was about to open his mouth to reply when a soft tap on the car window interrupted him.
“Miss Stark, everything is ready, you have permission to land in Charles de Gaulle in forty minutes”
“Danke sehr aufmerksam, herr Müller” You turned to Peter, “What do you say, Spider-Man? Wanna go for a joyride?”
Stealing a plane and flying away to another country turned out to be not as big of a deal as Peter had imagined. If anything, it was a little anticlimactic how minimal was the effort you both had to do with a self-flown jet and the Stark last name opening borders and clearing landing tracks for you. Still, it didn’t stopped his heart from beating hard inside his chest the whole time.
Or maybe that was just you and the effect you had on him, running hand in hand through the airport, trying to get away from the bunch of paparazzi that caught wind of the Stark jet landing there. It was exhilarating. You were exhilarating.
… He was in so much trouble.
“We need a cab” Peter announced once outside de airport, without slowing down, the paparazzi hot on your heels.
“There’s no way we’ll be able to loose them in a car, we need something faster” You pointed out, way more experienced in being hunted by the press.
“There, look!” He gestured at an impressive looking motorcycle that was just pulling up a few yards ahead.
“A Livewire! You have taste, Parker”
A pleased little blush appeared on his cheeks.
“Thanks,” He mumbled.
“Excusez-moi, monsieur!” You started, but the guy on the Harley interrupted you.
“Dude, I’m from L.A.” He chuckled, “And you are y/n Stark! This is so awesome, can I get a selfie?”
“Sure, can we get a ride?” You smiled sweetly at the camera.
“Sorry, guys, I’m here to pick up my son, his flight is delayed, he’s gonna flip when he sees you were here and he missed it…” He seemed genuinely sorry.
“Could we, like borrow your bike, then?”
The guy hesitated,
“Well, I mean, you look like cool kids and all but…”
“Here, you can have my watch as a guarantee you’ll get it back” you took your watch off your wrist and placed it on his open palm, “We’ll send you the location of the bike once we’re done, and maybe we could get another selfie with your son when you come pick it up…”
There wasn’t much time left, with the first photographers already coming out the doors. Luckily the bike guy caved in.
“Is this a Stark watch? These are worth like, a hundred thousand…”
“Couple hundreds, actually” You corrected, “special edition and all that”
“Ok, Take it!” The guy said, seeing the paparazzi closing in.
“Thanks!”
“Thank you so much! We’ll promise to give it back in one piece!” Peter yelled back as you both were riding away, with his hands firm on the handle, loving the feeling of your warm form draped around his back and the wind on his face. It was almost like swinging on his webs at breakneck speed, maybe even better, cause your arms were wrapped around his waist.
“Ever did this before?” you asked, raising your voice above the howling of the wind.
“I drove my friend's Ned scooter once” He replied, honestly “and I have super fast reflexes, how hard can this be?”
“Oh my God, we’re going to die!!” You groaned into his jeans cladded shoulder.
“Don’t worry, miss Stark, I won’t let anything happen to you” He promised, speeding down the A1 under the pink sunset. And if your heart melted a little right then and there, well, no one really needed to know.
“Whoa! That is amazing!” Peter bursted out in awe as soon as you reached Avenue Foch and the Arc de Triomphe appeared into view.
“Ok, pull over there, it’s time to ditch the bike” you decided.
“Are you sure?” |
d481102b318e44d38c0a0ee69bc33693 | ['5124935227ce41ed810f6e9e72a459ee'] | Bellamy reaches down and smooths her hair back behind her ear, his fingers pressing into the spot where he likes to give her hickeys. Clarke tilts her head to give him better access, enjoying the way his fingertips dig in harder when the tip of his cock drags against the inside of her cheek. When she pulls back again, she catches him right beneath his head and gives him one, two, three firm sucks, each eliciting a noise she wants to replay forever.
"Feels so good," he murmurs, almost incoherent. "Fuck. I can't get enough of that mouth, babe."
Clarke moans around him and twists her fingers around his base as she works him deeper and deeper with each bob of her head. Her free hand trails back to cup his balls, to roll them in her hand, and when she gives them a gentle squeeze Bellamy's hips stutter forward, thrusting him deeper into her throat.
"Shit," he gasps. At the same time, Clarke makes a pleased noise, resting her head against the headboard as she repeats the motion. Bellamy manages not to come quite so close to choking her this time, though he can't still himself completely.
Clarke pulls off of him with a wet pop and keeps working him with her hand.
"Don't hold back on me." She runs her fingers up the underside of his cock, pressing it to his belly so she can give his balls a kiss.
"Fuck," Bellamy pants. "That what you want, babe? You want me to fuck your sweet mouth?"
Clarke sucks tiny, quick kisses up his shaft until she can wrap her lips around him again, nodding and looking beseechingly up at him. Bellamy seems hesitant to follow through so she gives him some encouragement, taking him a little deeper and running her hand down the inside of his thigh. Sure enough, his hips jerk forward almost of their own accord, into the tight clutch of her throat. She was more prepared for him this time, ready for such a reaction, and as he presses into her she's able to yawn her throat open wider, to allow him deeper than before.
Bellamy holds himself there for long enough Clarke's eyes start to water before she gently pushes him back and he goes. "So good for me," he's babbling, along with plenty of other nonsense. "So good to me. You're so good at this, babe. I can't wait to wake up with you every morning, Clarke. God."
This time, all she has to do is increase the gentle pressure of her fingers on the backs of his thighs and he picks up a rhythm, pressing in, pulling out. Clarke takes as much of him as she can, fluttering her tongue as hot and firm and good. She always loves the freeing feeling of Bellamy taking control, of knowing she's making him feel good when he's usually so intent on her pleasure. There's also something primal and hot about knowing that she's keyed him up so hard that his restraint falters. She loves teasing him to the edge of that restraint, loves knowing she has that power over him, but sometimes it's just as hot to push him so far past crossing that line that he can't even see it in the distance.
Her hunger for him is so great that Clarke doubts it will ever be sated. As wet as she was before this all started, she's dripping now. She's certain there will be an incriminating spot of arousal on the sheets when they're done, knows she'll need to wash these sheets before they go to sleep in their new apartment together.
She lets one of her hands trail down his leg, stroking him as long as she can before she lets her fingers drift to her own pleasure. Two slide inside her pussy with no resistance and she begins fucking herself to the same rhythm that Bellamy is fucking her mouth. It's not enough to get her off, not when she can feel how thick and long he is on her tongue. Her fingers just can't compare. But it's enough to take the edge off.
Her other hand slips back to fondle his balls once more, now tight and high as he reaches the precipice. This time when he thrusts into her, Clarke gives him her teeth, light as the brush of a feather, but enough to trigger his release. He stills inside of her, spurting come down her throat, and then, when she can't hold him there any longer, in her mouth. She laps it up, making a startled noise when he staggers to his knees nearly atop her, pinning her hand inside her.
His lips catch hers in a bruising kiss and Clarke laughs into it. "Feeling good, babe?" She rasps, her throat a little sore. She doesn't know if the tea and honey is packed up yet but she thinks she can probably sweet talk Bellamy into finding it for her.
"So fucking good." His hand joins hers, tracing around her opening and making him grin when he finds out how wet she still is. "Almost enough to make me forget your betrayal."
He adds one finger to the two of hers working her cunt and Clarke moans, head dropping back against the headboard. Even his finger is so much better than hers, so much thicker and longer and rougher. She needs him so fucking bad.
Bellamy hums. "Yeah, babe. I can tell you got yourself nice and worked up, didn't you?"
Clarke nods, frantic when he crooks his finger just right inside her. "I like making you feel good."
"You like it a lot." | 08aec77a48d743ffad756ead08dd1fa5 | ['5124935227ce41ed810f6e9e72a459ee'] | "Putting on a show," Bellamy says knowingly, his hand drifting up and down her leg as he tilts forward and nuzzles at the side of her tits. "You think anyone can see us right now? Are we making your dream come true?"
Clarke laughs and runs her fingers through his hair. "I kind of hope so. I mean, I'm moving today. It's not like I'd ever have to face them again."
He hums and scrapes his teeth against her breast.
"Then let's give them something to remember us by."
She nods furiously, walls clenching when his fingers slide through her slickness again.
"So wet," he mumbles approvingly, bringing his fingers first to his lips, and then to hers. "Open," he says softly, tapping the pads against her lower lip. She does on instinct, clit throbbing as she tastes herself, as he pushes down on her tongue and moans when she flutters her tongue against them.
"Good girl." He draws his fingers out and plants a kiss on her lips so quick she can't even reciprocate. "You still want my cock, babe?"
"Mmm, I don't know. Maybe I changed my mind," she laughs, heart fluttering at his responding eye roll.
"So fucking mouthy."
Clarke grins and reaches out, stroking his length lightly. His hand stills at the base of his cock, holding himself steady for her as she wraps her hand around him and drags her fingers up the tender underside of his cock. He's hot to the touch, his shape, familiar. She loves his cock, honestly. She's hoping she'll get more than just her hands on it, and from the way Bellamy is nuzzling at her neck, burying his face and trying to collect himself, she thinks he might give her what she wants.
"Maybe you should give my mouth something else to focus on," she suggests, twisting her hand as she jacks him and smirking when he curses, low and breathy.
"Jesus," he grunts, swatting her hand away. "So impatient. It's all part of the plan, if you'll just hold on for one second."
"Okay, okay." She leans back against the headboard, still sprawled indecently, and grins at him. "I'm waiting."
Bellamy stands up on the bed in one swift movement, surprising Clarke and thrilling her at the same time. He looks so good like this, nothing but bronze skin and freckles all the way down, hair rumpled from sleep, his big, beautiful hand wrapped around his big, beautiful cock. Clarke feels like a queen being treated to a private feast, surveying him hungrily as he stands before her and continues to stroke himself slowly and steadily.
Maybe her punishment will be to watch him come without getting her hands on him. As much as she wants it - wants to be good for Bellamy, to play whatever game he's come up with - she doesn't know if she could make it through _that_.
As her gaze travels up his body to his face, she catches his eyes darting toward the window. She moans and grips the sheets tight between her fingers. She'd forgotten he wanted to put on a show.
Well, he's certainly doing it. Anyone with a half decent view of her bedroom windows are getting an eyeful of him right now. Clarke doubts they've ever been so blessed.
"Showing off?" She teases, reaching out to run her toe up the inside of the leg closest to her. Bellamy's dick jumps in his hand. He gives a shallow laugh.
"Maybe a little. That get you hot?"
"You know it does."
She can't help the plea in her tone but Bellamy doesn't make fun of her for once. He just smirks and takes a step closer, his cock bobbing in her face. Clarke makes herself look up at him through the fan of her lashes, biting her lip in a move she knows gets him worked up.
"You still change your mind?" He teases, swiping at his precum before he thumbs her lip away from her teeth. When Clarke gets a hint of his taste on her tongue she inhales sharply, then shakes her head in slow motions side to side.
"Gotta tell me what you want, beautiful," he says, soft.
Clarke rests her hands on his thighs, scritching lightly at the sensitive skin there.
"I want to make you feel good," she tells him, leaning forward and giving him a chaste kiss on the sharp V of his hipbone. She nuzzles the spot gently and casts her eyes up to meet his again. "I want to show you how much I appreciate you."
"Well, go on babe. I won't stop you."
Clarke laughs and turns her face into him again, kissing his navel, his hips, light and sweet. Bellamy lets go of himself when her hand comes up to cradle him gently. She nuzzles her face against his dick, just a moment of soft friction before she turns her head and drags her tongue up the side of it.
Bellamy moans above her and leans forward to brace his forearms on the wall, eyes hooded and mouth hanging half open when she peeks up to see his pretty face. She wraps her fingers around him tightly at his base, flickering her tongue along his length and never dropping eye contact. Without warning, she takes his head in her mouth, swirling her tongue around him and giving him a good, slow suck as she pulls back. Having closed her eyes to give his dick the focus and attention it deserves, she can only imagine the look on his face when she hears him swear. It makes her laugh just the same, the vibration of it making him groan again. |
5a08a4eaaa8d4d03a9983711b1bee07b | ['517a3c87ff3e49508a385edea60df313'] | "When _we_ were wrapping it up," Reyes says pointedly. "Most people don't know how close humanity came to losing the war. Every army that we threw at them, the Omnics outmaneuvered. That's the problem with fighting machines: A strategy only works on them once. After that they can analyze it, calculate how to beat it, then beam that information across the world to all the other bots. The thing that made Overwatch successful was diversity. The tin cans couldn't predict us, and that's why we won."
"So you wanted me because I'm unconventional."
"What you _are_ is an undisciplined amateur with no sense of purpose, but you have potential. We'll send you through Qualifications with the other new draftees. Should know pretty quick if you can hack it. "
"Qualifications? You mean like on the shootin' range?"
That makes Reyes grin. He smiles through the entire process of lighting up a cigarette.
"Yeah. Sure. Except you're firing on a moving target while rappelling down from a helicopter flying at 300 miles per hour. This isn't some backyard game of Cowboys and Indians, jackass. You're the only one in your group who hasn't received any formal training, so you better do whatever it takes to catch up."
"Always been good at improvisin'."
"You better be." Reyes flips open his laptop, and McCree gets the message. Conversation over. "I've got an agency to run and my own team to manage. I don't have time to take on another fucking project."
They arrive at the sprawling compound outside of Durango, and McCree is given a week to settle in. By the reception the other recruits give him he can tell that, once again, his reputation has undermined any chance of making a good first impression. The rest of the group is made mostly of soldiers and law enforcement, each one hand-picked from the most prestigious peacekeeping entities around the world after long careers of proving themselves. And then there's Jesse McCree, a young smuggler they dug out of maximum security prison. His fellow draftees draw a line between them that's impossible to miss: Heroes on one side, criminals on the other.
McCree's first days with Blackwatch are lonely, but the outlaw doesn't bother feeling sorry for himself. He keeps Herlinda Guitierrez's picture to remind him why he shouldn't.
Despite their troubles outside of training, when drills start the unit pulls together. Nobody is about to allow pettiness to compromise their shot at Overwatch's elite strike force, and they won't let one inexperienced rogue drag them all down. Fortunately, it's not much of an issue. McCree lags behind on the more complicated group maneuvers, but he's spent enough of his life dodging the authorities to know their tactics. Jesse's also surprised to learn that this military-style fighting suits him. He likes having an actual team that works together and watch his back. Shootouts with the Deadlocks always felt like putting guns in the hands of a dozen monkeys and hoping everything panned out. This is much better. It's reassuring to know his backup won't scatter to save their own skins at the first sign of danger.
The individual skills they're taught - survivalism, weapons training, first aid - are old hat for cowboy who once thrived in the inhospitable American southwest. But not everything comes easy to Jesse, and he spends most evenings alone in the training yard, watching demonstration videos on hand-to-hand combat and practicing on the drones. It's late one night and he's trying to work out the diagrams of an old combat manual, but the sum of his willpower isn't enough to keep his mind from wandering. Book-learning has never been his preferred mode of education.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
McCree jumps, surprised out of a long daydream. Commander Reyes is standing next to him in a pressed suit and jacket, a travel duffel hanging off his shoulder. It's the first McCree has seen him in over two months, and were it not for Reyes' fixed scowl he might not have recognized the man at all. It figures that running Blackwatch wouldn't be skullcaps and kevlar all the time.
"Captain Hegel says I need to work on my counters." Jesse turns to bury his his embarrassment in the book. A moment later it's swiped out of his hands, and Reyes frowns at the illustrations like he can't believe what he's seeing.
"Jesus Christ. You can't learn hand-to-hand combat from a _manual._ "
"Well I ain't learnin' it any other way," the outlaw grumbles.
"I know this is a stretch, but have you considered asking any of the dozen martial artists in your unit to help you?"
Jesse allows silence to speak for him. Overcoming his ego to ask for help wasn't the problem. Getting any of his respectable peers to come down from their pedestal and indulge a struggling criminal was. From the change in Reyes' expression, he seems to work out the issue.
McCree shirks under the scrutiny. He can handle being thought of as a bad fella because he's done things to earn that title. He doesn't even mind when people call him stupid since he knows he isn't. What makes Jesse uncomfortable is pity. That's an ugly, helpless feeling he can't stand.
"There's an Israeli who keeps knockin' me on my backside," he tries to move the subject along, "Somebody said she was trained in Gra-Aga or some place like that. I don't know. Sounded Asian."
"Krav Maga." Reyes pinches the bridge of his nose. "She was trained in Krav Maga."
"Fine, but I don't know where that is either."
The commander tilts his head back and stares up at the sky like he's searching for strength.
"What technique are you struggling with?" he asks, voice strained. | 5f0df20b2b864fc2b522b09f3f13c541 | ['517a3c87ff3e49508a385edea60df313'] |
**Author's Note:**
> Please have this very short, very un-beta'd, holiday-inspired drabble.
Reaper isn’t so far gone that he doesn’t see the irony of visiting his own grave on Halloween. He might have even been amused if the circumstances of his undeath weren’t so bitter.
The date is chosen because of its convenience, not because it fits the narrative. The cemetery would be closed to vandals and unattended teenagers with nothing better to do than try to raise the dead with new age witch books and cheap candles. It affords him privacy. After the sun sets Reaper steps out without his mask, and no one he passes on the street spares his mutilated flesh and too-many eyes a second look. Halloween had always been his favorite holiday.
He walks to the cemetery and passes through the iron-wrought fence in a whisper of smoke. Even in the dark it’s not hard to find his “grave”; the statue that serves as his headstone is among the largest of the plots, even if it is nowhere near as lavish as Morrison’s.
But then it’s not like Jack is even using it, what with his being infuriatingly alive and whole. Somewhere.
As for the final standing testament to Gabriel Reyes, a life spent serving humanity in the most dangerous, thankless capacity imaginable, his mere image remains a source of contention. Reaper wonders how long his granite likeness has stood without a face, with missing fingers, with visible paint stains soaked into the stone. There’s a seam in the neck, probably from where the head had been bashed off and replaced. The caretakers must be done trying to keep up with people desecrating Gabriel’s resting place. How pitiful that he is denied peace and dignity even in death. There is a moment where Reaper considers his current objectives and feels more affirmed in them than ever.
An irregularity at base of the monument catches his eye. He notices a barren patch where the grass is dead and the dirt loosely packed down, but not enough to conceal the disturbance. Frowning, Reaper plunges his fingers into the cool earth. Something tangles around his knuckles as he digs. He drags it out and turns the thing over in his hand, shaking it clean, watching pieces of tied-together metal glint in the perimeter lights.
He’s never seen it before, not assembled like this, but he knows it immediately. Delight sparks in his chest. The lead wasn’t a dead-end after all: His prey has been here, as recently as within the last week.
“Leaving a trail? Bad move, cowboy. I taught you better.”
McCree was always prone to picking up garbage. As a fresh recruit they couldn’t get out the goddamn door without him stopping to pocket some crap he’d found. Small baubles, shiny rocks, animal bones and feathers, old coins, bullet casings, broken pieces of nothing – all that shit normal people had the sense to throw away, McCree hoarded like prized, confusing treasures. It annoyed Gabriel but he’d allowed it, thinking the memory triggers were part of some bizarre coping mechanism the kid needed to get through.
The junk accumulation slowed down as he got older, but Jesse never let the practice go. He drilled holes into his little totems, stringing the assorted bits of trash together like a memory sequence. He would pull them out on long flights and stare at them with the intensity of a man working out the greatest mysteries of the universe while wearing the vacant expression of an imbecile. When McCree fled Blackwatch the charms disappeared with him.
Reaper turns the discovery over in his hands. He can’t place most of the items connected on this one. He couldn’t possibly. McCree’s thought process when he selected his trinkets had always been arbitrary, some seemingly picked only because it was there at the same time he was. A few are obvious. A mouse skull, painted red around the edges: Blackwatch. Half of a dirty souvenir magnet came from the clusterfuck of an op they’d run out of an old theme park. The mangled remnants of a shotgun shell? Reyes had overlooked some cracked ammunition. The damn thing had exploded in the barrel, destroying a very expensive gun and almost his left hand. There are other things, like scraps of metal and cloth that aren’t distinguishable enough to trace back. Only McCree could tell-
Reaper stops, realizes how much thought and time he has invested into this idiocy, and shakes the echoes of nostalgia off.
Still, he can’t help but think about all the years McCree must have been hauling this shit around through his exile. Now this one gets left behind at the headstone of Gabriel Reyes like an offering. Or maybe an apology.
Reaper rejects it.
“Can’t run from your past, traitor,” he says like a promise. He clenches his fist around the rodent’s skull, ready to feel the satisfaction of destroying something McCree cares about, but just as the sharp points of bone and teeth begin cutting into his skin he gets an idea. His grip relaxes.
Reaper decides he can stand to teach his former protege one last lesson.
——–
At some point Jesse is going to have to consider taking care of his body.
That’s as alien a thought now as it was when he was running guns for the Deadlocks or kicking down doors with Blackwatch. He never thought he’d get old enough to have to worry about things like cholesterol or blood pressure or lung cancer. He can’t believe he’s 37 and a fugitive from about every law enforcement agency out there, but here he is, pushing open the door to his budget motel room, dropping a sack of greasy fries and a double cheeseburger on the table. He can’t immediately recall the last meal that hadn’t come from some roadside diner or fast food chain. Sometimes he gets pains in his heart for no reason.
The bounty hunters better hurry up if they want to get him before the coronary does.
His other parts may be getting old but McCree’s eyes are as sharp as ever, and if there’d been anything, _anything_ out of the ordinary to signal somebody had been in his room, he’d have caught it. All was normal outdoors, so the first hint of trouble comes alongside the realization that Jesse isn’t being hunted. No, the chase is over. His opponent is already on top of him, toying.
Sitting on the faded motel coverlet, caked with gravedirt, Jesse finds the mementos he’d buried in a cemetery a month back and three states over.
He doesn’t approach it, not at first. He retreats from the room and waits until he’s convinced nothing is timed to blow him up. Then he ventures back inside and sweeps for surveillance, spy equipment, explosives, or anything that just doesn’t seem right. He finds nothing.
It’s a long time before curiosity overtakes caution. His dinner is cold and on its way to seeping out the bottom of the paper bag when he finally goes over to the bed. Attached to the string of odds and ends Jesse finds a note written in a hand just as familiar to him as it was impossible.
McCree gathers his things and leaves the motel shortly after, aware that his stalker has probably left him to dangle on the hook but unwilling to sit still in case they change their mind. He doesn’t take the charm along. The message and all of its implications tug on his thoughts well after the town is a distant collection of lights in the stolen pick-up’s rearview.
_‘You can’t bury me, vaquero.’_ |
260bfb2463714ad89541b0e5311ae9c7 | ['51ae0c7a73ae48cd951f34378e85711e'] | I wouldn't even be surprised if texas considered itself a country anymore tbh
Orga [8:12PM]
The independent Republic of Texas must have its traditions
Dobengal [8:12 PM]
lol xD
Orga [8:12 PM]
and they should be respected
Sting [8:15 PM]
IT S SO MUCH WORSE
Yukino [8:15 PM]
STOP EATING IT THEN
Orga [8:16 PM]
HAHAHAHA
Sting [8:16 PM]
I'm not eating soap
it was toothpaste
Orga [8:16 PM]
Pfft
Sting [8:17 PM]
I REGRET
Dobengal [8:17 PM]
rip
Yukino [8:17 PM]
don't eat that either
Rogue [8:18 PM]
At least you finally brushed your teeth
Minerva [8:19 PM]
You got some regret baguettes?
Orga [8:19 PM]
sting try with orange juice
Rogue [8:20 PM]
That sounds worse
Yukino [8:21 PM]
it is worse
Don't do it
Just don't
Orga [8:21 PM]
It will be okay
Yukino [8:21 PM]
Don't make Sting eat anymore weird things
Cobra can only detox so much
Orga [8:22 PM]
sting, don't drink orange juice
Sting [8:24 PM]
I had ice cream
Minerva [8:25 PM]
nice
Sting [8:25 PM]
Then I spilled it on my crop top
Now I'm doing laundry
Minerva [8:26 PM]
what kind?
was it worth it?
Dobengal [8:26 PM]
ice cream is always worth it
unless its sherbert
Sting [8:27 PM]
What's wrong with sherbert?
Dobengal [8:27 PM]
I don't like it lol
my taste buds are weird and picky
Sting [8:28 PM]
Sherbert's not okay but spiders are fine apparently
Yukino [8:28 PM]
soap isn't good either
Sting [8:29 PM]
Quit judging me
Rogue [8:29 PM]
you ate fucking soap
of course we're judging you
Sting [8:29 PM]
MEAN
AND RUDE
Minerva [8:29 PM]
and true
Sting [8:30 PM]
yall are ganging up on me
I'm leaving
*sting has left chat*
Orga [8:32 PM]
he actually left lol
Yukino [8:33 PM]
I feel kinda bad
Rogue [8:33 PM]
don't be
sting's just an idiot
Minerva [8:34 PM]
we're so mean to him omg
Rogue [8:34 PM]
his own fault for eating bubble bath
Rufus [8:35 PM]
correction: he drank it
Rogue [8:36 PM]
whatever
I'm gonna go check on him to make sure he doesn't die or anything
peace
Yukino [8:37 PM]
bye
Rufus [8:37 PM]
farewell
Orga [8:38 PM]
don't choke heh
*Rogue has left chat*
Minerva [8:41 PM]
great now I'm bored
Orga [8:43 PM]
what do you want someone else to almost die for your entertainment
Minerva [8:44 PM]
are you volunteering?
*Orga had left chat*
Yukino [8:45 PM]
pfft
Rufus [8:45 PM]
smart man
Minerva [8:46 PM]
coward
now who am I gonna mess with?
*Yukino and Rufus have left chat*
Minerva [8:47 PM]
ffs
I quit
*Minerva has left chat*
*Chat is now sad because it is empty and lonely*
**Author's Note:**
> This whole thing was a disaster but if you enjoyed my saberbabies being dorks than my work is accomplished
>
> It technically works for gamble because Sting is gambling with his health when he drinks soap. I know it's a stretch but I've been wanting to post this for a while so I might as well make it a contribution to this year's stingue week! | 811763d5d68f4aa98179000fa29ca339 | ['51ae0c7a73ae48cd951f34378e85711e'] | “My brother will be there at the door.” Mirajane’s voice was barely a breath, the close proximity making her focus slip.
“Waves upon the tropical shore.” Erza finished the line, and closed the gap between their lips. They shared a kiss, long enough to make Mirajane miss her line, but not long enough for Erza to miss hers. “Gosh your lips are delicious.”
Mirajane was so distracted by the romance that she didn’t notice what Erza’s other hand was doing, the redhead was strong enough to hold Mirajane’s weight with only one.
There was a resounding crunch as Erza bit into a candy cane, and Mirajane’s head shot up. “Erza Scarlet!”
“What? You want some? Because I can share.”
Mirajane twisted out of Erza’s grip, standing up to her full height, blue eyes furious as she yanked the candy cane out of Erza’s mouth. “Do you know how hard I was working? No! Because you were to busy gorging yourself on my ingredients!”
Erza opened her mouth to say something but Mirajane pushed on, a violent purple glow was starting to emit from her, the first signs of her satan soul. “You were rude! And selfish! And taking advantage of the candy I bought with my money!”
“I can pay for it…” Erza doubted it would be very pricy, it was just wrapped candy.
“That’s not the point!” Mirajane raged, her hair starting to float, and a crack appearing over her eye, she jabbed a clawed finger at Erza’s chest. “My point is that your eating what I built! I slave away being a waitress, cooking treats and mixing drinks all day! You couldn’t even build a gingerbread house if you tried!”
Erza’s eyebrows flicked up at the challenge, their old rivalry starting to tug at her. “I don’t see the point in making gingerbread houses since you’re just gonna eat the anyways, but I do know that I could make a way better gingerbread house then you.”
“Prove it.” Mirajane grabbed an apron, smacking it into Erza’s hand. “I doubt you’ll have enough self control not to eat it all.”
“I have plenty of self control.” Erza lifted the apron up, and tied the strings around her neck.
“Well if you say so.” Mirajane smacked another set of ingredients down onto the table, squares of gingerbread, packages of icing, another bowl full of all kinds of candies, gumdrops, M&Ms, candy canes, and peppermints galore!
Erza was salivating just from looking at the sweets. She quickly shook the glutinous thoughts from her mind. She had to focus. She had to win. “You’ll be eating your words, Strauss.” Erza promised, unable to resist falling back into her old habits, was this how Gray and Natsu felt everyone they fought?
“Just like you’ll be eating your ingredients, Scarlet.” Mirajane taunted, her demonic glow had faded from everywhere but her eyes, those orbs burning with blue fire.
Mirajane grabbed a wind-up timer, twisting the knob around. “One hour to build, and we will let the Master decide who’s is better. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” Erza replied, neither of them bothered to shake hands, getting straight to work on their gingerbread constructions.
Despite what Mirajane claimed about Erza’s self control, the sweet lover had only put one ingredient in her mouth, a candy cane. She sucked on it continuously, letting the cool minty flavor sharpen her senses. Erza has been doing it for so long that the end of peppermint rod had been whittled down into a sharp point, like a knife. Perfect for stabbing all those who got in her way, and if anyone questioned her she could just eat the evidence. It was a win-win.
The wind-up alarm buzzed at the hour mark. The women dropped what they were holding, icing bags, candy, etc, the last ten minutes had just been finishing touches.
They looked over at each other's houses, eager for a look at the competition. Their houses layouts were about the same, but while Mirajane had gone for a quaint elegance, Erza had gone big and loud, something the Fairy Tail guild knew all too well.
Gingerbread houses completed, they went up the the second floor and presented their creations to the Master.
Erza went on a long drawl about their competition and about the expert craftsmanship skills it took to build something as complicated as a gingerbread house. Before Erza could go on even further Mirajane cut in. “So which one do you think is better?” Everyone knew where her priorities were. The shining light in her eyes spoke volumes. She wanted to win, badly.
The Master yawned, and leaned back on bus elbows. “I don’t care what they look like. What really matters is how they taste.”
Erza shot Mirajane a smug look.
The Master cracked his knuckles, a movement that was bizarre when associated with the physique of an elderly man. “Let’s get to tasting.” He exclaimed, then proceeded to eat both their gingerbread houses. Fairy Tail was a guild, full of children (and grandpas) that were constantly hungry, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise their Master reflected that trait.
“Ah.” The Master finished off the last of Erza’s gingerbread house, smacking his chops. “Now that was some good eating.”
They looked at him expectantly, waiting for his ruling, but the elderly man was too busy licking the remaining icing off his fingers.
“So? Who’s was better?” Mirajane tapped her foot against the ground impatiently, and Erza was inclined to do the same. The Master was taking his sweet time.
“Who’s was who’s again?” The Master asked and laughed uproariously at the way the his top two female wizards faces fell. “You know what? I can’t ever remember the difference, but they were both delicious so good job girls. Perfecto!” He kissed his fingers, his hand making the symbol in the air. |
6baacac6dcf84d8da33003723c2a8a6f | ['51d2c58b5035435bb3a29d87cfa73d53'] |
Breakeven
**Author's Note:**
> Hints at self harm.
At first, I was just ranting about how Taehyung and Jungkook should be together. I wanted to tell someone about the moments that made you admire just how well they knew each other. I wanted to tell someone about the subtle touches they shared, unconsciously. I wanted to rant about how their conversation was just one big inside joke so when people started commenting about how my blogs were entertaining I was confused.
Then everything went downhill. I was in Jungkook’s grade and the last of our group along with him to go to college. When Jimin and Tae graduated, the trouble essentially began. It was summer. That meant that we had only two months before Tae left to study abroad. At first, Jungkook took it well. He was happy even that Tae had gotten in.
_“I’m so happy for you,” Jungkook said. “Thanks Jungkook” Tae smiled. “So party?” they said at once and laughed. “At Dino’s for pizza?” Jungkook said and Tae smiled one of his smiles that suggested that there was more to the conversation than the dialogues that we were privy to._
Naturally, I wrote just as I saw and updated my ‘story’. They were pretty entertaining to watch in real and so, I always recorded the truth, as it is.
Everyone in our group choose to ignore the fact that Tae and Jungkook hooked up. A lot. They hooked up when they were drunk, they hooked up when they were stoned, they hooked up when one of them was sad or they just hooked up for fun. We had assumed that their feelings had been mutual and shared in private. We assumed that they were too scared to put a label on it. Most erroneously, we assumed that they were happy.
I was surprised when Jungkook knocked on my door at two in the morning, looking like death. I did everything a good friend does and ultimately learnt that he had asked to quit being fuck buddies. Tae had nodded and replied with an “Okay. So, video games?” Jungkook was crying uncontrollably by the time he was finished recounting the events of their sleepover. I hugged Jungkook and stayed up with him talking about everything. Everything, as long as it didn’t involve Tae.
It only got worse from there. Jungkook would drink himself to sleep of get stoned and hook up with random people. Then, I intervened. When I told him to get his shit together, he bawled uncontrollably and it had me believe that there was more to the situation than what he had let on. After that though, he stopped. He still avoided us whenever we decided to meet but now, went to the library to study. He was a year ahead in his classes but he still read. He started crashing on my couch every night when he found that I had a small library at home. This meant that I was painfully aware that he swallowed sleeping pills like candy. He seemed to take more every day but, I could hear his wakeful sobbing every night.
Tae left without saying goodbye to Jungkook. They never met after that until Tae too came knocking at two AM. Jungkook, for once, was blissfully asleep and after my initial delight over his appearance, I had to let him stay. Refusing to wake Jungkook from his rare sleep.
I woke up to him sobbing over what used to be Tae. It was just a chair now but Jungkook held onto it as if it was Tae himself. I found myself crying with Jungkook this time. Over what, I didn’t know.
“I actually confessed to him that night.” The voice was hoarse and broken but he was opening up and I didn’t say a word lest I curb his bravery.
“We had sex twice after that. I brought it up again after the third time but he said that he didn’t. I- I felt so used. I know that he didn’t use me. I know that I agreed to being exclusive fuck buddies but he keeps coming back for the sex. Not me, just the sex. He was so unaffected by it, he wanted to play video games.” In the end, he sobbed some more and we went to meet everyone for breakfast, as if everything was fine.
Jungkook was surprisingly good at acting as if everything was fine. The marks on his hand told another, much darker story. It was common now to see Jungkook with baggy, red eyes. Everyone assumed that he stoned too often.
Of course, Tae leaving meant that college had begun and every time I heard a rumour about how Jungkook answered a hard problem right while stoned I wanted to yell. Yell at them and tell them it was because, if Jungkook was not studying, he was bawling his eyes out. Instead I turned to my rant page.
_“I confessed and he said video games”_
I don’t know why I did it, but I backspaced and retyped the sentence.
_“I confessed and he said lets talk about it when I come to visit next” Jungkook said excitedly._
I felt weird posting fake instances on my page. Jungkook of course, got better as the days went. Not back to the carefree boy who made fun of me for reading too much but he wasn’t crying every second.
He progressed even more after the one week he was snappy. He went to the gym instead and let off some steam. He was learning healthy coping mechanisms and I was extremely proud. This of course didn’t extend to Tae himself.
The first time they had met, in the pretence of salvaging their friendship had gone horribly and Jungkook had stayed up the night crying again.
This had become their first coffee date in my rant page.
The second time they met was a few months later. Jungkook was better now both mentally and physically. He would now smile genuinely and even make jokes. He would socialize and he had even started to go on dates and do other ‘typical college boy’ things. Then he had spotted Tae at a bar kissing someone else.
In my rant page, they hooked up for the first time that night.
In reality, he had pulled me run out and after he cried about why it could not have been him instead, we had fallen asleep.
We didn’t see Tae for a long time after that. His parents shifted and really, he had no reason to come back here. Jungkook and I too, moved for higher studies and then work. Jungkook recovered fully from his heartbreak as people do. He never loved again though and I suspected that Tae still had his heart. Jungkook had grieved for his heart but it never came back to him.
In my rant, they married in a simple ceremony and adopted a child. For, I wasn’t as cruel as the universe and I would give them the happy ending they deserved. | ae163d78b01b4057af1c8a9fb5c40a08 | ['51d2c58b5035435bb3a29d87cfa73d53'] |
Why I'm Unnerved
Jungkook figured that if he pushed Taehyung enough, he’d get the attention he craved.He would be very touchy with people everywhere. Especially when he could meet a lot of the people he knew like at award shows.He didn’t know for sure if Tae was being Tae or if the older male actually had feelings for him. When he got jealous though, the older male would notice and smirk at Jungkook as if he had accomplished his mission.
His plan had been easy, give the older one a taste of his own medicine. Except his plan had been very hard to implement. Who the hell was he going to ask for help? Then he had blurted it out to Yugyeom and Bambam in one of their coffee meets and the 97 line chat room had exploded the next day. The worst part was that he was actually grateful for their help. With the emotional turmoil he knew he would face in the award ceremony coming up, he knew that he had them completely on his side. He knew that his hyungs pitied him as well, they just didn’t want to take sides.
He heard a knock and got up to check. It was Tae and he couldn’t help but smile. He always smiled when Tae was around. Jimin had started calling it the Tae effect.
“What up Tae?”
“Overwatch?” he asked. Jungkook remembered what Bambam had told him two days ago. Honestly Yugyeom and Bambam were too invested in this but he figured, if they thought this would make Tae notice him, he would try it. To pretend to give up on Tae for him to realize what he was making Jungkook go through would be hard and he and hoped that what he was about to do was convincing.
He looked at Tae apologetically. “Sorry Tae, I was going over to Yugyeom and Bambam’s. Coincidentally for overwatch, maybe later?”
Everyone knew that overwatch was their thing. Their ritual. Jungkook had, in the past, refused to play that game with others because of this. Which is why, when Tae’s face showed shock, he shouldn’t have been surprised but he had always thought that he made up that ritual and that the elder was just going with it because he amused by his childishness. So when Tae looked like someone had just kicked him, Jungkook felt a little bad.
“Wh- wh- huh?” the other was struggling to speak. Finally, he said “Why? What happened to it being our thing? “
This time, Jungkook could be a little honest and he felt relieved that he did not have to lie anymore for a while. Lying made him cringe and that’s how people easily called him out for it. ” Well it’s something I made up and I bet you think it’s childish so when they invited me, I thought, why not? I can break tradition with them“
He could see the other get all defensive and knew that they would start arguing. He had actually promised to meet the other 97 liners though, so he quickly added “don’t wait up Tae, if I come home today then, we’ll play okay?”
He knew the other was going to be persistent so he quickly called out his bye’s to everyone and left.
He reached GOT7’s dorm; their place for the night as, for some reason, it was empty and was met with their excited faces. He knew then that ‘Taekook OTP project’ as they liked to call it, would be the main topic today and groaned.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Back at the dorm, Tae was confused. He knew that he had been teasing Jungkook continuously and pushing it with the skinship with others but this reaction was new. He knew that they liked each other. He knew that everyone knew. He was planning to push the younger till he blasted out, like always, and confessed. Somewhere along the line, being too amused by Jungkook’s reactions, he had forgotten his original motive and now, he made it his mission to make Jungkook jealous. He couldn’t help it. the other had such cute reactions, he was so adorable, his toes curled and he almost cooed just thinking about him. His scrunched up, grumpy face that he desperately tried not to show his jealousy was so bunny like. He stopped his reverie, suddenly realizing, for the third time, that something was off about Jungkook’s reactions. It didn’t make him fall for the younger like always, it brought in fear. Why? He couldn’t say. He decided to shrug it off.
He had decided to shrug it off but, Jungkook was not home and he had left the previous evening. At lunch, when no one seemed bothered by the absence of the makne, he had asked “where’s Jungkook?”. He had been met with five surprised faces. Namjoon had even expressed his surprise with a ”YOU are asking US where Jungkook is? YOU don’t know?”. That’s right. He always knew. Except now. He was irritated. Even more so when it seemed like everyone but him knew. He almost asked them if he knew what was up with Jungkook but he decided against it and chose to nod. Again, he felt like something was wrong and fear gripped him. He was now giving into those thoughts in hope that it would help him figure out what was happening.
He sought out Jimin later that evening when he found the latter alone and expressed his doubts. The smirk meant that Jimin had caught on to something that Taehyung himself hadn’t but all he got from Jimin was a “I don’t know Tae, maybe he got tired of the games and decided to do something”. When he asked what that something was, he had got a shrug indicating ‘only Jungkook knows that’.
His fears had multiplied tenfold. |
fe788c80ea4240b7a8513047e5e2d5e1 | ['51edcf67006646c0824ba88cae8af989'] | “Oh… the kid with the machete?”
“Yeah! Where is he!?”
“He’s in room 234.” (oh yes, so original, Vigilante. 234)
The girl nodded before storming off. Her friend followed.
“Jesus Christ, that one’s scary,” Terrence noted. Thomas nodded, looking at his shoes.
They’d been knotted together.
But when? They hadn’t been when he’d started walking, and no one but the girl had been close enough. The girl couldn’t have done because she was up in his face…
What?
Where the hell had Jag gotten a lock-picking kit from?
Emile watched him try to unlock the door, slightly amused. He kept screwing up then swearing under his breath. Emile was awesome at picking locks (people kept locking him out of his own locker), but he wanted to see if Jag could figure it out.
Jag sat back, staring at the lock angrily. Then, it began to rattle. His eyes widened and he moved back a bit. The lock clicked a few times, then the door swung open.
A little girl with sharp, dark brown eyes stood there. She grinned when she saw Jag, running over to him and hugging him.
“We’ll find Pat on our own,” Jag promised, picking her up. “Nice to meet you, Emile.”
He started down the hall, only to be interrupted by a familiar voice calling him. He spun.
Patton.
He set Sweetie down and raced over to his brother, hugging them.
“I thought you were dead,” Patton whispered.
Jag grinned. “I thought you were smaller.”
The broke apart. Jag noticed that Patton had dyed their hair a shade of light blue. Their eyes, however, matched Jag’s perfectly.
“God I’ve missed you.” Jag whispered. Sweetie came over, gripping Jag’s hand.
“Who’s this?” Patton asked. Logan appeared behind them, looking out of breath.
“Oh, this is Sweetie. Sweetie Callie.”
Logan’s posture went rigid as he examined the girl. “I beg your pardon? Could you repeat that?”
“… Sweetie Callie.”
Logan’s eyes widened…
and he fainted.
Jag frowned, kicking him gently. “Who’s this?”
“Logan. He’s my boyfriend.”
Jag snorted. “You picked a tough one for sure, Pat. Honestly.”
“Well… Logan Callie. His family has been a line of single children for like, generations, and Sweetie looks exactly like him. So… you know…”
“She might be his sister. So?”
“His dad is dead and his… their, I guess, mum is a murderous sociopath.”
Jag tried (and failed) to raise an eyebrow.
Dustin yawned, walking to the door and responding to the determined knocking with an “I’m coming, I’m coming.”
He did a double take when he saw his niece standing there with a bag. “Missy? What the hell?”
“Mom is making me stay here because she’s pissed. Neither of us have any choice in this matter.” Missy stated, walking inside. Dustin blinked and closed the door.
“I thought your mom didn’t like me… why do you have an accent?”
“Because mum and dad talked in a Brittish accent until I was six.”
Seemed like the kind of thing his sister would do. “But I thought she didn’t like me?”
“She doesn’t. She just hates me more than she hates you.”
Dustin blinked again. “Okay, I’m still half asleep. Ah… we have Lucky Charms, can you put on some coffee?”
“Sure.”
“Ah… my husband is here. Are you cool with that?”
“I don’t care if you’re gay, dude.”
“Okay.”
Dustin walked back upstairs, rubbing the back of his head and sitting on the bed. Cato rolled over, looking at him sleepily.
“Who was that?”
“My niece, apparently.”
“I thought her mom didn’t like you.”
“She doesn’t. Anyway, Missy’s downstairs making coffee. Please, put your damned trousers on.”
Cato frowned. “But life is so free without them.”
“Trousers. Now. And a shirt, if you’re up to it.”
He grabbed his own shirt, pulling it on before going back downstairs, finding the coffee done. He added some cream and leaned against the counter, sipping it.
“You like Black Veil Brides?” Missy asked.
“Yep. How’d you know?”
“You’re wearing a Fallen Angels shirt.”
“So… why’s your mom dropping you off at six-thirty?”
“The sooner she can be rid of me, the better.” she wouldn’t tell him how her mom hoped Dustin being gay would rub off on Missy so she could be abandoned.
“Well, if your mom wanted you to skip out on as much gay shit as possible, she chose the wrong day.” Dustin laughed.
“Why?”
“Family reunion; six gay sons and all my and Cato’s queer friends.”
“Who’s Cato?”
“Someone called?” Cato slid dramatically down the bannister and fell on his face. Dustin burst out laughing, putting his coffee down to avoid spilling it. Even Missy giggled as Cato rose and indignantly brushed himself off and walked over. He smacked Dustin’s arm.
“Missy…” Dustin gasped when he finally stopped laughing. “This is Cato, my husband.”
“Nice to meet you,” Missy said.
Cato nodded, then looked at the coffee Dustin had. “That fresh?”
“Missy just made it. Help yourself.”
Missy turned back to Dustin. “What’s that on your arm? The flag.”
He glanced at his left bicep. “Oh… bisexual flag. I’m bi.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“I can like boys or girls.”
Missy frowned. “Mum said people could only be straight or gay.”
“She was wrong. There’s like… an entire alphabet.”
Missy was intrigued.
4. 4
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Short chapter, sorry
On the plane, Remy touched James’ stomach, smiling at the slight bump he felt. James sighed.
“What do you think it will be?” Remy asked excitedly.
“I want a girl. Our family doesn’t have enough… any… girls.”
Remy nodded. “What about a name?”
“If it’s a girl, I get to name her. You get to name it if it’s a boy.”
“If it’s a boy, I’m naming him Shane. Or Ronin.”
“I’d name a girl Shaera. You know, one of those really cool names that you would get in a superhero movie.”
“I like that name.” | 5c9a8902e92c424a97e10c6630453b1d | ['51edcf67006646c0824ba88cae8af989'] |
You don't know the half of the abuse
Anxiety was gone for two hours before the dark sides finally got the news; the youngest of them was not coming back.
Rage, per usual, exploded. Deceit cringed as yet another mug flew across the room, almost taking the snake side out. He tried to sulk out, but Apathy noticed and dragged him into the centre of the room. “This is your fault, Deceit.”
“I *do* know what you’re talking about!” Dee snarled, rubbing his now bruised arm.
“If you hadn’t been so nice to that little freak, he never would’ve gotten into his head that he can do stuff!”
Rage nodded. “All your fault.”
The dark sides began closing in, and his heart stopped when he saw Fear conjure a horsewhip and swung. It caught Deceit across the chest, drawing a line of blood. Deceit cried out, body instinctively curling away. Fear laughed, swing again and taking Deceit down. He swung again and again, until Dee couldn’t feel the pain and the snakes vision blurred.
Finally, the others got bored, leaving him crumpled on the ground. In his hazy mind, he wondered why Anxiety hadn’t come over yet, as the young side always did when Deceit was punished.
Then, in his fading consciousness, he realized;
Anxiety had left him. Left him to take the punishment…
Why hadn’t he taken Deceit with him?
It was early in the morning when Deceit finally regained consciousness. He forced himself to walk to his room, locking the door and filling the tub with nice, warm water, then pouring it over his back. He hissed at the pain it caused but eventually managed to clean the blood from himself and bandage his wounds. His clothes couldn’t be salvaged, but he could easily conjure more. For today, baggy t-shirt and sweatpants. He just needed to relax.
And find a way to lie down that didn’t make him hiss in agony.
He wound up laying on his stomach, clutching a stuffed snake in one hand.
He missed Anxiety.
Over the next week, nothing too bad happened. Sure, he got the occasional slap, but they didn’t start beating him within an inch of his life. Rage would normally make everything worse, elbowing Dee in the back and laughing at the smaller sides cry of pain and how he would start bleeding again. One such occasion, however, made everything worse.
Deceit was getting food from the fridge, something he had to do in the middle of the night because the others wouldn’t let him eat. There was no Anxiety to get some food for Dee, as Dee had done so many times for Anxiety.
He’d been debating between limp salad or slightly mouldy cheese when an elbow slammed down on his spine. He cried out loudly, collapsing. The almost-finished jam fell out of the fridge, shattering on the dirty floor.
Rage smiled maliciously. “Look what you did.”
“I *did* mean to!” Deceit cried, struggling in the chokehold around his neck.
“So you did it on purpose?”
“That’s *totally* what I meant!”
A fist slammed into his stomach, once, then twice, then again and again, until Deceit couldn’t even begin to recover the air that was getting knocked out of him, and he was on the verge of blacking out from pain and lack of air. Rage then threw him to the ground, reopening the wounds for the umpteenth time and then leaving.
He decided that he hated Anxiety. Hated him for leaving. Hated him for not taking Deceit with him.
Anxiety was his enemy.
He didn't even do anything that time. He was in his room, trying to recover from the latest beating when three of the others burst in.
“What do you want?” Dee snarled.
Apathy smiled cruelly. “Temper temper, Deceit. I think we should do something about that.”
Before Deceit could ask what that meant, his hands were forced above his head and were tied to the headboard. Apathy forced his dick between Deceit’s lips.
“If you bite down, you’ll regret it.” Apathy warned. Deceit choked as he thrust deeper down the lying sides throat, and tears began to flow when he felt the others stripping him. Someone’s hand began to run up and down his cock, and his face burned as he started to get hard. He wanted to beg them not to, but he knew every word he said would be used against him, even if he did make himself tell the truth…
He cried out as someone forced themselves inside him. Rage laughed, and whoever was inside him started to thrust roughly. Eventually, Apathy came down Deceit’s throat, leaving the lying side to cry and moan as they took their turns with him. It took forever for them to leave him alone and untie him, but when they did he staggered to the bathroom, throwing up.
Without the energy to go back to his filthy bed, he fell asleep on the bathroom floor.
After a few months of this, Deceit decided that whatever risks came with his emergency plan was well worth it. Patton would forgive him… right?
Forcing himself not to think of what could happen, he summoned the moral side to his room. Deceit didn’t even hesitate. He launched himself at Morality, hitting the dad with a length of pipe and knocking him out. In short order, he tied Patton u and locked him in the closet.
“I’m *not* sorry, but this is *not* the only way.” He tied the closet shut, and shifted his appearance. He could mimic Patton’s look with almost perfection, and it wasn’t like anyone would notice… right?
Wrong.
It took a while, but the other sides eventually figured it out. Patton managed to reappear.
But he’d accomplished his goal.
He strutted to his room, now in the Mind Palace, and sighed in relief. The other dark sides couldn’t reach him here.
Just had one thing left to do. |
339091452bb14f8b990973f1003d3c47 | ['5208fde9da434bd784c7feb90498d889'] | We were sitting in silence on a bench just outside the station, eating our food when V broke the awkward air between us. “Seul,” he called. I stopped munching on my burger and paid attention. Looking up to meet his eyes, I nodded for him to continue. “I actually got the photos yesterday. Our tour guide last Sunday sent it via mail,” fishing his phone out, he showed the pictures one by one.
A certain picture caught my attention, stopping V from scrolling to the next one. “You look like you’re not scared here,” I pointed out. The picture was taken before we started ziplining. We were already harnessed and looking at the camera with wide, genuine smiles. V’s hand was even raised up in the air, two fingers forming a peace sign.
“I guess I can act well,” he grinned, wriggling his eyebrows which had me hitting his arm. “Stop it you look like a creep,” I reprimanded.
We looked at the remaining files in silence, passing on few words and mocking each other whenever a not-so-pleasing photo of us appeared. After looking through everything, V kept his phone and started eating his burger. I also went back to my food, finishing it faster than usual.
“Are you that hungry?” V asked when he noticed that I was already done. He was looking at me like I suddenly grew a pair of horns. As a retort, I glared at him then looked away, putting my trash in a plastic bag. “Finish your food! The bus will be here anytime,” I muttered while cleaning my hands with wet wipes, ignoring his words.
V finished his food just in time when the shuttle arrived. We hurried and hopped onto the vehicle for a forty-minute ride to the Archeological Park. Unlike the previous rides wherein silence completely took over us, this one had been full of V’s excited chatter. He was on the edge of his seat, every now and then looking at the window with eyes sparkling in pure, unadulterated amazement. It was a sight I wouldn’t forget. For the first time in a while, I had witness someone’s happiness unraveling right in front of my eyes.
“A bug will definitely go inside your mouth,” I interrupted V and his little bubble, snapping him out of whatever possessed him. Aware of his surroundings once again, he immediately closed his mouth that had been hanging for a while now. A small laugh escaped my mouth because he looked lost for a moment.
“What?” eyebrows knitted in a frown, his lips forming a pout, he looked at me.
“You’re just a kid,” I tried my best to imitate his stature earlier, hanging my mouth open and looking lost but stoked from happiness. What I did made V pout more, but he soon laughed, claiming that I looked like a fool.
In the middle of our journey, I shifted in my seat and glanced at V, who was, yet again, looking at the window and admiring the view as it blurred out of our sight.
“Thank you for the scarf, V. I really like it,” I murmured and closed my eyes, pretending that I didn’t feel his eyes on me after I expressed my gratitude.
* * *
_Machu Picchu || Tuesday_
A light shake woke me up from my unexpected slumber. I slowly opened my eyes to V packing his bag, getting ready to leave the bus. I didn’t even plan to sleep when I closed my eyes. I just wanted to avoid further conversation about the scarf, but perhaps waking up at 3 am for this trip lulled me.
V turned to me, realizing that I was finally conscious again. “What are you waiting for?” he gently tapped my forearm for me to start moving.
When we stepped out of the bus, V immediately pranced like an excited child. I could not blame him for acting that way. After all, being in Machu Picchu was like making his dream come true.
Once again, I felt like we were transported back to the past, seeing the ruins right in front of my eyes. All the rock formations and greenery had struck me, tugging my heartstrings in a good way. The view was not just pleasing, but it was also calming. It was definitely a place that people should go to relax and enjoy the beauty of nature.
The tour guide began explaining things about the place, giving random facts here and there, but I could only focus on the breathtaking scenery. At one point, I even took out my camera to take pictures. They may not justify the ethereal beauty of Machu Picchu, but capturing the view would give me some sort of nostalgia later in life. I got lost in paradise temporarily.
Although the guided tour lasted for two hours and Jose, our tour guide, was very patient and enthusiastic to introduce the heavenly place, I didn’t get what he said. I was busy admiring every part of the park that we went to. However, I wasn’t as bad as V. He was literally spacing out while his mouth was hung open. He was so amazed that I had to drag him to keep moving.
The rest of the day was given to us. V and I could do anything, and we started our free time by eating lunch. We decided to look for a place outside the park and saw a snack bar*** adjacent to the entrance. It was a good timing because both of us wanted pizza. After ordering, we went to the deck for a magnificent view of the mountains. V rushed to the long table at the end of the deck, facing the view.
“This is so cool! I have to send pictures and make my friends jealous,” he fished his phone out to take pictures. Turning to me, he said, “pose.” I wasn’t ready when I heard the click of the shutter. | 0926a2045c914173996073113ff6f883 | ['5208fde9da434bd784c7feb90498d889'] | Instead of looking for a new job after my mom recovered from what happened to her, I opted to venture a new path in the form of opening a business. It was a hard decision to make, but my family supported me wholeheartedly. My sister even extended financial help because the money I earned and saved from working as a writer would not be enough to cover all the expenses in order to turn my dream café into reality.
In the past, I would never think that such childish dream could happen. After all, five months ago, my life was a train wreck. I lost my job in the worst possible way. Then, I found myself boarding a plane to Peru where I met a stranger and traveled with him, something that I should not have done but did anyway. It was new and refreshing; a thing that the old me working and rotting in a rundown publishing company would never do.
I used to think that it was stupid to take risks, but I learned to take chances and go with the flow. All thanks to V. What I experienced with him during the trip was something I would never forget. It was just a shame that I had to leave earlier than planned because my mom was sick during that time. We could have been friends until now if an unfortunate thing didn't happen.
Sometimes I would allow myself to think about that night when I left him with just a letter. I had the opportunity to talk to him and say goodbye properly, but I wanted to keep everything to myself, a stupid move.
Perhaps if given a chance to meet him once again, I would apologize to him first and foremost. However, the chance of seeing him again was zero to none, so I tried to push back those crazy thoughts and focus on my future business.
At the beginning, my decision brought confusion and surprise to my family. They didn't get how someone who would never drink coffee wanted to run a café, so I explained that the business wouldn't just be about coffees. I also told them that it was my childhood dream to open a business like that. They seemed satisfied with whatever I said and gave me their go signal. After that, my sister and her husband helped me with everything. They even introduced me to an architect slash interior designer who happened to be the guy sitting across me.
We started working together three months ago. It was unbelievable that although he was temperamental most of the time, we kind of built a friendship out of our late night discussions and planning on how the café would look like in just a short period of time.
Flipping the last page, I closed the folder and turned to him. He was already looking at me, eyes wide and expecting. Keeping my eyes locked on him, I placed the folder on the table together with his other files.
The stretching silence between us must have bothered him, so he cleared his throat. "So?" he raised an eyebrow, waiting for whatever I would tell him about his designs.
Averting my eyes away, I focused on the black folder in front of me. "Everything was like how I imagined. They were beautiful," the last part was said in a whisper. I didn't want to inflate his already big ego by directly complimenting his work. Thankfully, he did not catch what I said, but he still basked on the approval I gave him. He smirked at me, proud of his accomplishment. "I told you to trust me."
"Whatever." Rolling my eyes at his antics, I stood up from my seat. "What do you want to have?" I asked while fumbling with my purse.
"Americano."
Satisfied with his quick response, I turned my back to him, but before I could take a step forward and order our drinks, he continued, "And your time next week. You owe me one because you made me wait!"
* * *
Because of a little slip-up last week, I was forced to be his plus one for a wedding ceremony he was invited to, a friend's wedding. He didn't want to show up without a date because his younger friends would make fun of him, and even though he didn't deserve my company for being an ass all the time, I still went along. Besides, I was the good friend in this relationship.
"You don't have to pretend that we're dating or what like in those chick-flicks you always watch. We're attending as friends. Let them assume things if ever," he grinned at me before getting out of the car. I followed suit and didn't wait for him to open my door because he would never do it anyway. Smoothing my blue cocktail dress, I joined his side, and we entered the wedding hall together.
Everything, starting from the decoration to the people around the vicinity, screamed fancy. It was like an heir to some big shot corporation would get married. It suddenly got me feeling so underdressed for the occasion and fumbling with the ribbon on the side of my dress.
"Hey, are you sure I look decent?" I squeezed my dear friend's arm to get his dwindling attention. We were heading to our designated table, but he suddenly stopped the moment he felt my grip, making me halt my steps as well. Eyebrows knitted, he turned to me and briefly glanced at my dress and the matching heels I wore with it. "You're okay," he said with a straight face and unmoving stance.
The lack of expression on his face aside from the frown on his face earlier made me snort, earning a sharp glare from him. "What?" he sneered close to my ear, keeping the banter between the two of us. |
a503c241a8184109a6dd22235d5f47c6 | ['5222ef5cf2f74bf3bbb52c399507f962'] | Adam stared at Ronan, who just laughed. His laugh was fleeting but strong enough to drown out the voice of scorn in his head. It was soft and real. Two words that Adam wouldn’t have even dreamt he’d ever be able to associate with a creature like Ronan Lynch. This was proof that there was something worth investing into here. This was proof that he was getting through to him.
It would be a slow and agonizing process, but Adam had adhered to painstaking processes all of his life. This was a challenge he was willing to commit to, if Ronan would let him.
They spent the ride back in easy silence. Adam got home and collapsed into bed, not even bothering to change out of his jeans. He set a timer for class the next morning and closed his eyes to the strangely lulling sounds of Ronan’s music system singing chaotically from downstairs.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> \- yes this entire chapter was my lil tribute to the dream thieves, probably my fave book in the series
> \- i swear by the end of the fic he'll go from the snake to the sweet farm boy we all love from the raven king, but considering the situation in the realm of this AU, it only makes sense for that transition to take awhile. (with adam's influence, no doubt.) ;)
> \- the comment about the car being too good to wreck was actually taken from the foxhole court, a series that has left me in pieces btw. 10/10 would recommend. it'll gut-punch you a hundred times in a dozen different ways. also, kudos to you if you caught that reference. we can be friends now.
> \- PLEASE LEAVE ME A COMMENT ABOUT WHAT YOU THINK down below :)
> \- p.s if you happen to be on tumblr & you happen to like editing it would be super cool if you'd maybe wanna make an edit based on this fic and tag me in it? my tumblr username is winterblues!
4. Insatiable Beasts
_There is a rebel in me - the Shadow-Beast. It is that part of me that hates constraints of any kind, even those self-imposed. At the last hint of limitations on my time or space by others, it kicks out with both feet. Bolts. - Gloria Anzaldua_
* * *
“Hi, my name is Marsha Young and I’m an addict.”
“Hello Marsha,” the group chorused, Adam played along, Ronan did not.
“Heroin had consumed my life. I have two kids and a job at a law firm to maintain but I'd been hanging on by a thread. This was during the most troubling of times, too. I’d just found out that my husband had been cheating on me with my step-sister, um… we barely had enough money to pay the mortgage and my daughter kept falling ill. Instead of being the pillar of support and strength for my sagging family to lean on, I found myself crumbling beneath all the pressure. I was at a precipice and I thought heroin was the only thing keeping me from falling...”
“I have been doomed to a fate worse than death,” Ronan drawled theatrically, diverting Adam’s attention from the lamenting lady who’d taken centre stage. “I swear if I have to take another second of this I’m going to spontaneously combust.”
Adam rolled his eyes from his seat besides Ronan, who was sprawled arrogantly on the comically small plastic fold-up chair they’d been provided with.
He had his legs spread out in front of him, his ankles crossing over one another, his right leg was bobbing rather feverishly. His arms hung loosely over his middle like he was going to be sick. He kept turning a shiny little lighter around in his left hand, one he’d snagged off his dashboard. His expression was dire.
“You promised you’d give it a chance,” Adam reminded.
“And I’m here, aren’t I? Now I want to leave before they start feeding on each other.”
“Group therapy has proven to help most -”
“Do I look like most people?” Ronan interjected, pointing up at his own face, his voice disgruntled. “This is a pathetic sob fest and it’s depressing. These low-lives just need an excuse to vent and complain about how unfair the world has been to them.”
“It’s not about the sad stories, it’s about acceptance. Everyone here has gone through the same thing that you have. It’s where people come together to steady one another and remind each other that they’re not alone in their fight against their respective addictions.” Adam said.
“You sound like a fucking convent.”
“These people will understand you,”
Something dark pooled over Ronan’s sharp features. “None of these sorry bastards understand jack shit about me, and if you thought for one second that they would, you don’t understand shit about me either.”
Adam’s temper ignited a tiny fuse in his stomach, he swallowed it down. Adam wanted to say, _you haven’t exactly let me in, have you?_ He wanted to say, _y_ __ou’ve_ been hellbent on making this job as difficult for me as possible so really who’s the one to blame here? _ He wanted to say that he was dying to understand Ronan if Ronan would just let him.
Instead, he ran his hands over his face and said. “Just… Thirty more minutes?”
“And then, what? We’ll all hold hands around a fire and sing _Kumbaya_? Hard pass,” Ronan spat.
Adam sighed, and Ronan slouched in his seat. “Are you actually saying that if you were in my place, a bunch of weeping losers reciting poetry and quoting their self-help books at this poor excuse for a pity party would make you want to live? Because this is making _me_ want to commit mass homicide." | 75b529a5586749409e252195029cc41d | ['5222ef5cf2f74bf3bbb52c399507f962'] | They didn’t care if they were here tomorrow or if they were hurting anyone else as they blew up the world around them. All they did was revel in the placating high of the fury, the fire, the now.
If people like Joseph Kavinsky somehow miraculously managed to make it to their forties, they turned into the Robert Parrishs of the world. Adam didn’t think Ronan was one of them, but he did believe that Ronan was drawn to them like a moth to the flame.
There was an underlying sense of unpredictability and upheaval to them that he obviously craved.
Ronan didn’t look intimidated by the unspoken threat in Kavinsky’s words, instead they only seemed to incite him further. Adam knew that he couldn’t keep somebody like Ronan on a leash, but he had to at least try and pacify him a little whenever he could.
He rounded past the car and touched one, firm hand to Ronan’s upper arm. Ronan tensed but didn’t turn around, his eyes still dead set on Kavinsky’s, promising eruptions.
“Ronan don’t, come on.” Adam quietly urged. “You just got out of a shitstorm don’t dive headfirst back in. _Please_ ,”
Ronan stood there with his fist secured around Kavinsky’s throat for a few more destabilizing seconds before violently wheeling back and spitting on the asphalt by Kavinsky’s feet, his expression still incendiary. “What do you say we put the theatrics on hold and settle this with a little more speed,” he suggested.
Kavinsky’s smile was empty and brimming at the same time. “Now we’re talkin’,” he said, coyly. He shot Ronan one more serial killer smile and pulled his tank over his head to reveal the concave length of his torso.
To somebody on his right, he said. “Porko. Pork Chops. Get me a joint, man.” Then his eyes were back on Ronan, one of his fingers trailing the length of his jugular where Ronan had seized him. “Damn, you left some paw prints,” he mumbled coquettishly. “Oh, Lynch. Would you kiss my wounds better? I can hardly race on an empty stomach."
Ronan pretended to think about it and then proceeded to lift up his middle finger, which he aimed at Kavinsky’s throat like a gun and mimed shooting.
Adam felt like he was watching a tsunami enfold in slow motion. “See you on the streets, then.” He said, echoing Ronan’s reaction with a slurring boom.
As Kavinsky chuckled once again and turned on his heel to head to his car, Adam stepped in front of Ronan, blocking his way to the BMW.
Ronan blinked into his face like he was just reminded of Adam’s existence.
“Don’t pay any heed to him,” he said, for Adam’s benefit. “The guy thinks he’s Renegade Jesus or something.” Ronan scoffed, before adding to his sentence a vivid array of curse words.
Adam sighed. “It’s not him I’m worried about,”
“Aw. Touching,” Ronan said, pressing a hand to his heart. “But like I said, this is something I’ve got to do. Think of it as… Diversion therapy. That’s your favorite word, isn’t it? Therapy? Well, this is kind of a healing practice for me. Surely you can understand that.”
“Ronan -”
“We could drop it and go home but then I’d get all agitated and who knows? I could spiral into a big bad relapse.”
Adam gaped at him as he mentioned That Which Should Not Be Named.
“You know you can’t drop that word like a bomb in my lap!”
_“Relapse! RE-LAP-SE.”_ He continued, like he was reading a child a ghost story with a flashlight beneath his chin. That silenced Adam.
“These are my night-to-night activities, Adam. This is me getting back into the swing of things. I’ve been itching for a good ol’ drag race ever since I got dismissed to the looney bin. Now you gonna foolishly try and give me time out or you gonna get outta my way?”
Adam sighed, nervously running little circles with his finger lightly over his temple.
“Fine. If you get us killed, just remember that you’ll be stuck with me in the afterlife.”
Ronan looked puzzled for a second, then a slow grin swept over his dark and majestic features.
“See,” he said, more to himself than to Adam. “I knew there was something interesting about you.”
“Oh I am humbled, Your Highness.” Adam mocked.
Adam stepped aside and Ronan slid back into his car. Adam followed him into the dark, silently praying for a miracle. He had no idea what he was getting himself into, but there was a quiet, uncontained thrill furling in his stomach like a poisonous flower and for some reason, he couldn’t quite squash it.
* * *
Tires squealed. Engines roared. Adam wondered if he was about to witness his life in flashes.
Ronan had his foot firmly planted on the clutch, his expression was a maze of indecipherable notions, his face was bathed in the searing red grimace of the traffic light overhead. Adam could feel his heart burning in his chest. Outside, people had gathered in slimy hoards to watch. All cheering like hungry fans at a stadium.
Everything was reduced to the flighty and restless seconds before blast off. Adam readjusted his seatbelt for the fifth time.
“Live a little, Parrish,” Ronan said.
“Not if I die a lot.”
Ronan let out a short laugh, it was more a rumble that somehow echoed in Adam’s chest than sound. He was probably just confusing it with the revved up engine or his own ragged breaths. They waited for the green together.
The Mitsubishi pulled up besides them, the bass still pumping like blood. Kavinsky shot Ronan a smirk. “I see it’s a threesome,” |
d58c30356bba4a17b45ce90952714d57 | ['52356a19d2634bddbb0c1e6e53be055a'] | “Fire.” Castiel said calmly, and Dean dropped a lighter at Crowley’s feet. On the outside edge of the Devil’s Trap he was standing in, a ring of holy oil began to blaze. When he looked up, he saw Crowley wiping away last bit of water and steam from his face.
“Oh, you think you two are so clever, don’t you?” Crowley’s voice was scratchy and annoyed. “Holy water? You think a bit of holy oil and paint can hold me for long? I’m the bloody _king of Hell!_ "
“Who said anything about letting you be around for long, Crowley? We just need a location from you, and you’ll be gone for good.” Dean’s voice was still deep with anger. His green eyes were bright in the glow of the fire. He looked ready to kill.
“A loca- Oh. I see what this is.” Crowley was almost smiling. “You think you can scoop up _me_ , King of _Hell_ , find my bones, and burn them?” He clasped his hands together in front of him. “You think it will really be that easy, Dean?”
“We don’t need easy.” Dean spat, and he turned to look at Castiel. “We just need doable.” The angel just nodded, his eyes locked on the Demon confined by fire and sigil. “Now, you could make this difficult, or make it easy and tell me where you hid your bones.”
“Oh please. Like I’m going to tell _you_ where I put them.” Crowley barked a laugh. “I am many things, Dean, but I am no idiot. Besides, there are already demons on the way as we speak. Nasty ones.” Crowley let out a toothy grin. “They don’t play nice.”
Dean sniffed and pulled the demon knife out of his bag. “Alright then, _your highness._ We’ll have it your way.” He tossed the knife to Castiel, who stepped forward to extinguish the flames around the devils trap.
“We’ve been over this. That blade doesn’t kill-“ Crowley was cut off by a gargle as the angel plunged the knife deep into his side. “Shit, well, it still stings a bit, I’ll give you that.” His voice was strained, and he was doubled over in pain.
“ _Sometimes_ , Crowley, the Father smiles down on his children.” Castiel said evenly, twisting the blade deep into the demon’s side. “And he grants us abilities to help us on a quest for justice.” Castiel placed a hand on Crowley’s forehead. Dean could see the whites of his eyes beginning to glow bright white from his power.
Before Castiel could finish, a window on the opposite side of the warehouse blew open, disrupting the salt line. Two inky trails of smoke slithered in through the broken window and materialized as a forty-five-year-old sea captain from Florida and a twenty-three-year-old art student from Illinois. The angel wrenched the knife from Crowley’s side and threw it to Dean without a word, not breaking his concentration.
“That’s right, come running to help daddy. Because I’m sure he would do the same for you.” Dean spit out, his eyes full of recklessness and a smile on his face that would have given Castiel pause if he could see it. The two demons didn’t say a word, but the twenty-three-year-old art student from Illinois lunged forward, her fists and teeth bared. Dean forced the knife in between her ribs and ripped out quickly, not bothering to watch her smolder as he fought his way through a blast of energy from the forty-five-year-old sea captain from Florida. He was strong, despite his paunch middle and thin arms of his vessel, Dean found himself shoved against the concrete wall of the warehouse by large, sea-sure hands before he was able to get the knife into the demons skull through the bottom of his jaw.
“Wow, Crowley. You’ve been teaching your work dogs some new tricks, I see.” Dean sneered, wiping some blood from his cheek.
“Oh, you want work dogs? I can bring you work dogs.” Crowley was almost healed from the demon knife wound, but still fairly incapacitated from Castiel’s power. “I’m sure that’ll be a fun trip down memory lane.”
“You’re gonna regret ever messing with me, Crowley.” Dean said, stepping close to the circle containing his angel and the demon. “We’re gonna burn you nice and slow.” Dean shoved the knife into Crowley’s ribcage and twisted, his face hardening as Crowley howled in pain.
“So you still remember how to torture. Good boy, Dean-o.” Crowley panted out. Dean was surprised he could keep his arrogance even while being on the losing side of a torture session.
“All the better to-“ Dean was cut off by Castiel jerking his hand from Crowley’s forehead, his eyes closing then snapping back open, back to their intense blue. “Do you have it?”
“It took much searching, but yes. I know where they are.” Castiel peered at Dean, as if he knew how much Dean was giving up by letting Castiel be the one to burn the bones. Dean would rather it be Castiel than someone else, however.
“Alright.” Dean twisted his wrist as he slowly pulled the knife from Crowley’s chest. Without Castiel’s support, the demon nearly dropped to the floor. “You need gas and a lighter.” Dean crossed to the table his bag was set on and pulled a can of kerosene and a mini-torch from beneath the knives and guns. “And how about we rub some salt in the wound, eh, Cas?” Dean grabbed the bag with what was left of their salt and handed the items to the angel.
“I’ll be quick.” Castiel said before turning to Crowley. “His death wont be.” Dean didn’t like how good those words sounded to him, but he figured that was something to deal with on another day.
“Don’t come back until you’re finished. For any reason, you hear me?” Dean stared at Castiel until he nodded. “You finish the job, whatever it takes.” | 8f01e1f59bb14d1fb59dd6adce5f326a | ['52356a19d2634bddbb0c1e6e53be055a'] | “C’mon, Moran. Hang in there. If you quit on me now, your Brigadier will have my head. And he’s a scary man.” Moran just gritted his teeth as John wiped an iodine covered rag over the hole in his side. “Alright. Alright. C’mon. This is gonna hurt. Nothing like that bullet did, though.” John flushed the wound, a through and through that just barely seemed to miss any vital organs, with a mixture of water and bacitracin. The Colonel bit his blood-drenched jacket sleeve to keep from screaming. Some quick suturing that would most certainly need to be redone in hospital, and a rush bandage job, and John was on his way to drag Kinne to his little set up in the hole.
They were ten feet out when he heard his name being called through the tall grass. That’ll be Wilf, John thought, pausing only to turn and lift a hand to indicate he’d heard. Wilf had a head wound, but those always looked worse than they were. Nothing a bandage wouldn’t cover. He motioned for him to keep running, get out of the line of fire. C’mon Wilf, you’re target practice out there.
It happened in slow motion. John was turned, lowering himself into the hole after Kinne and facing the action, the destruction. Bullets and shells were screaming past everyone. Wilf was ducked down, trying to minimise himself as a target. But John and Wilf both saw the man in the grass at the same time. They both saw the artillery shell headed towards the unsuspecting soldier. Wilf’s eyes met John’s one last time, and his face had a determined, almost apologetic look on it, before he was diving on the ground, knocking the soldier, a man called Jameson from their own regiment, out of the blast range. Wilf had just enough time to close his eyes and lay his head back in resignation before the shell exploded in a rain of sand and grass and fire.
“WILF! NO, WILF! Dammit!” And it took Murray and someone from the Pioneers to drag John back down to the hole. Kinne was going to lose his foot if he didn’t act fast. John needed to focus. Focus. Wilf was gone. He couldn’t do anything about that. But he could save Kinne. He could protect the wounded. Focus.
He wasn’t mentally present while he extracted the shrapnel, set Kinne’s foot, cleaned, and bandaged the wound. His skin felt numb, his insides on fire. If he were any other man, his hands would be shaking. Wilf’s face kept burning itself into the back of his eyelids every time he blinked. His instant resignation to do what he needed to do. Not a second thought. _Wilf, you bastard_. Some poor girl back home, Dana, had just had to watch her thread go abruptly from a warm red to a harsh black. John would tell her what Wilf did. He would explain it all in a letter, Wilf’s heroism.
A shell landing six feet to the left of the hole the medics were in tore John back to reality. This ambush was getting nasty. Nastier. He could hear enemy chatter getting closer to the hole. Of course. Take the wounded. They make for better prisoners. You can dangle them in front of cameras for your purpose and then claim they died from their wounds after you shoot them in between the eyes.
Well, not on John Watson’s watch. Just a look between him, Murray, and the few Pioneers who could stand and shoot and they were scrambling for the edge of the hole with their weapons, aiming for anyone who wasn’t British. Two of the Pioneers went down within three minutes. Murray stopped to help them, leaving Watson and only two others defending the hole. Not good enough.
The insurgents came in from behind, through the breach in the fire. There had to be only eight of them, but since most of the soldiers around were already injured, John felt more than outnumbered. He watched as the insurgents went straight for Kinne and Moran. His insides were still on fire and were fast turning to rage. John had already lost one friend, he wasn’t going to lose another. He dropped the rifle he’d been carrying, pulled the Browning from his belt, and rammed the enemy soldier that had just placed a gun to Kinne’s head. John pinned the soldier on the ground and placed a bullet through his chest. When he turned, John saw Moran being pulled from the hole and didn’t think. He just ran. He scaled the ladder and charged after them, releasing round two, three, four from his pistol. He could hear Murray yelling behind him.
“Sebastian!” They were getting farther. His leg. Why was his leg hurting? _Am I hit? Fuck. Slowing me down._ The falter was all it took. The hitch in John’s step distracted him enough for the kidnappers to take the chance and shoot.
John Watson’s world erupted in an explosion of fire and blood and rage. He could barely register Murray screaming his name as he fell to the ground feeling like his whole left side had been blown off.
When he awoke, John was surprised to find he was in pain. He didn’t think you could feel pain in the afterlife. Maybe it was residual. Maybe when he opened his eyes and made his mind realise where he was it would go away.
The blinding white lights that greeted him above almost hurt as much as his shoulder and leg did.
“Guess I’m not dead.” John shut his eyes once more, spots and stars dancing behind his eyelids.
“Don’t sound too disappointed, Johnny boy!” Murray. Well, nice to know he made it out alright too.
“Kinne make it?” John was stalling. He didn’t want to look at his left side. He didn’t want to feel his left side. Was it even still there? _I bet I’m missing a bloody arm._ |
86c03357f8fb4cfa92bd4c3592a102b7 | ['526847f8dd0741669dea0f4348008f66'] | “Mama!” Ellie giggles. Karen takes her and gently settles her against her chest, rubbing her back and bouncing her a bit. She looks up to see Frank with tears in his eyes again.
“I’m going to be better, Karen,” he says again, his voice thick with emotion. He swallows and blinks hard, pushing back the tears she guesses he doesn’t feel he has a right to. He looks at them like they’re his entire world. “I promise.”
Karen smiles then, reaching for him and letting him wrap his arms around both of his girls, pressing his lips to Karen’s forehead. Ellie squirms happily between then, turning her face up to blink at both of them with bright eyes, taking in the sight of them together.
A family.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> EPILOGUE INCOMING, STAY TUNED
16. Epilogue
When Ellie rides a tricycle for the first time, Frank is there.
She tried negotiating with him so she could ride it down the street to the gelato shop she always tries to drag them into when they walk past, but he didn’t bend to her will _this time_ , making her settle for the concrete path around the small courtyard out back of the apartment complex.
Karen tucks some Band-Aids and Neosporin into her pocket _just in case_ and meets them outside, arriving just in time to watch Frank secure a pink and purple helmet over Ellie’s ponytail. Ellie spots her and makes a B-line, running over to tug on her shorts and bounce excitedly.
“Mommy! Daddy says if I’m good enough he’ll take my training wheels off!!”
Karen raises her eyebrows. Frank snorts and rolls his eyes, a playful smile hinting on his lips.
“Dream on, kiddo. I said in a couple weeks, _maybe_.”
Ellie’s exaggerated pout is short-lived as Frank snatches her up and squeezes her against him, peppering kisses into her hair. She squeals happily and squirms as he tickles her and holds her close, and Karen takes a moment to look at the happiness in his features.
Frank Castle will always be at war. It’s a war he fights every single day, and every single night. But it’s a quieter war now. Some nights Karen will wake up to an empty bed in the middle of the night and she won’t question it when he returns while she’s giving Ellie breakfast. The occasional black eye or cut makes Ellie question why Daddy has an “ouchie”, but it’s nothing Karen can’t handle. It’s compromise, and she _knows_ there’s much more compromise on Frank’s part than hers.
There’s still blood, but there’s less of it. There’s still pain, but there’s less of it.
The ceasefires in his mind last for longer, now.
Karen watches with an amused smile while Frank hauls Ellie over and sets her down on the seat of the tricycle, mumbling softly to her about how to grip the handles and how to pedal. She fidgets excitedly, her eyes narrowed in a determined way as she looks straight ahead, rearing to go. Frank notices her stiff posture and places a hand on her shoulder, chuckling.
“Easy there,” he says gently as he pats her back. “Don’t push yourself too hard. You’ll get there. Things take time.”
And as soon as he lets go, she’s off. A bit wobbly at first, the training wheels receiving more strain than they’re meant for as she makes slow, careful loops around the courtyard. After her third, surer loop, Frank goes and stands next to Karen, his arms crossed. She notices the way his fingers flinch every time Ellie wavers, looking like she might crash, before she rights herself and continues on, sometimes even faster than before.
“She’s too keen on playing with fire,” he muses quietly, and when she looks up she sees that he’s side-glancing at her, his eyes amused and warm. “Just like her mama.”
Karen smiles and ducks her head, pushing her hair back from her forehead.
“There’s more to us Page women than meets the eye.”
Frank turns his head and presses his lips to her temple, causing her to close her eyes and let herself shiver against the warm feeling of his breath tickling her ear.
“No fucking kidding,” Frank murmurs against her skin.
When she opens her eyes again, Ellie’s completed another lap and has come to a skidded stop in front of them, eyes impossibly bright with a radiant grin plastered to her face.
“Mommy! Daddy! I got _so fast_!”
“You did, pumpkin,” Karen grins down at her.
When Ellie tries to stand up from the tricycle she trips a bit, too excited to pay attention to properly dismounting, but Frank’s with her in a flash, lifting her up from the seat.
“I got you,” he says as he holds her in his arms, looking at her like she’s the best thing he’s ever seen.
“I got you.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hey all! Thanks so much for coming on this little adventure with us, this has been a joy to write (except when we were crying about it, but I digress) and it wouldn't have happened without all of your amazing encouragement! Thank you so much!
>
> Much love,
> Stellar and Ophiliad
**Author's Note:**
> trash tumblr: queensofthekastle.tumblr.com
>
> also leave us comments because we want your thoughts! xx | 9024a945b3a0415dbd50bbcac0a99dd6 | ['526847f8dd0741669dea0f4348008f66'] | It happens in the morning while Karen’s down the street from her apartment at an outdoor market. Frank’s with her, wearing a baseball hat that obscures most of his face and not looking anyone directly in the eye. No one looks twice at him, anyway.
They’re just any other couple, soon-to-be-parents. Frank has his hand resting on Karen’s lower back, grazing the fabric of her sundress, firm yet gentle.
She’s looking at some peaches, trying to gauge whether or not they’re in season yet, when she feels it. It hits her like a freight train, pitching her forward and causing a peach to go rolling down the street.
“Oh _God_ ,” she rasps as Frank leads her over to a bench, sitting her down. “This is _so_ much worse than what I was expecting.”
She kind of thought it would be today. She felt a few cramps earlier that morning but thought nothing of it. She’d read they’re supposed to get gradually worse.
She should have known that Frank Castle’s kid wouldn’t make things so easy for her.
“Breathe,” Frank grunts at her, taking her phone out of her purse and scrolling down to Foggy’s number. “Nelson, get your ass to Karen’s place. It’s happening. And hurry the fuck up.” He tosses the phone back in her purse before helping Karen back to her feet, a sturdy arm wrapped around her ribcage, and leading her back to her apartment.
*
He’s clinging to the phone, holding it to his ear with both hands. The sounds from the other end of the line fades in and out as the idiot lawyers hand wavers. Frank can hear him in the background, “Shit, shit, ok . . .” as he stares down the birth of someone else’s child. Karen is screaming in his ear. Screaming and grunting and pushing and gasping.
“Breathe,” he reminds her. “Breathe, baby, breathe. You got this.”
Karen screams again. Swears. Frank could almost smile. _That’s my girl._ Tough as nails. She’s doing this without an epidural. She wanted to be awake and aware of every part of her body. Whether she’s regretting that now he doesn’t know.
He switches ears. The phone slides against his temple, sweat slickened. His fingers are aching from how hard he’s holding it. The way he should be holding her hand. She’d probably break his fingers. He’d be all right with that. But he’s a criminal. He’s a murderer. And he can’t be there to help her. So he says what he can as her screaming fades to heaving breathing.
“Come on, sweetheart. Keep pushing. You got this. You can do this. You’re almost there.” After two hours of labor, he hopes that’s true.
Karen releases a vicious, guttural shout he winces away from. But he doesn’t drop the phone. He can’t. His eyes are watering and he can’t.
“You’re almost there,” his voice breaks. “You get to meet your baby. Just a little more.”
She gasps his name.
“I’m here. I’m here, sweetheart, I’m here. I’m right here.”
Karen groans.
“I’m right here. I got you. Just a little more.”
He swears he can hear her hands tightening on the rails of her hospital bed. Pictures her red faced and crying and gritting her teeth, and he wants to kiss her; hold her head and press his lips into the sweaty mess of her hair. _I got you._
Karen _shrieks._ Groans. Launches an offensive against her own body. The lawyer is in the background again, louder now. “Karen! Karen, here it comes!” and he’s laughing, a little hysteric, nearly drowned out by the teeth-gritting gravel of her shouts. Frank presses the phone so hard into his cheekbone that it aches through his skull.
“Come on, sweetheart. You’ve got this. I love you. You’ve got this—”
And then there’s a sharp, mewling wail—a first breath of air and a shout of protest against the cold, loud brightness of the world, and all at once he’s choking up, too. Laughing and choking and there are tears in his eyes—and it hasn’t hit him yet. That he’s been here before. That he’s already done this. There’s nothing but the moment. That new voice screaming in the background, the bustle of scrubs-clad bodies and Karen’s labored, hysterical, half laughing-half sobbing breathing.
“You did it, baby! You did it! Karen—”
And then there’s static on the line. The lawyer’s distant voice. Shuffling of people, and the phone pushed away. And then Frank is screaming her name, his voice all ragged and raw. And he can almost hear her, wants to believe he hears her, say his back to him. “Frank. We did it.” and then static, and a click and a beep as the line goes dead.
10. Elena
“Never thought I’d say this about the Punisher’s kid… but she’s definitely a cutie. _Hi there_ , little princess!”
Foggy pokes the tiny baby’s nose, and Karen looks away from her for the first time since she woke up and gives Foggy a small grin.
“She’s… _I made that_ ,” Karen whispers, in utter awe. She can’t take her eyes away.
She has her eyes. That’s the first thing she noticed the moment she was handed to her, wailing and covered in muck. When she was placed in Karen’s arms, her cries stopped and she just blinked up at her with big deep blue eyes, unblinking. It’s a bizarre thing to see your own eyes staring back at you. The shape of them, however, is all Frank. Sloe-shaped with hooded lids |
52410df036d24368bbe2076363a956ef | ['52864c501fcf44ebb4b2396bbfd3418c'] | For all that Rei is horrified and wants to disappear as quickly as possible, Rin is the first to react. His head whips around, his sweaty hair falling into his eyes, his expression one of pure shock quickly followed by horrified embarrassment as he registers their compromising position. He scrambles up from Haru’s chest onto his knees, Haru slipping out of him as he goes, cursing loudly and searching with his hands for something to cover himself with, finally finding purchase on what looks like Haru’s discarded t-shirt before wrapping it around his lower half and leaping to his feet. He looks between Rei, standing frozen by the door, Nagisa peeking out from behind him, and Haru, still splayed on the floor with his cock out and drying come on his stomach, staring nonchalantly up at him. “Fuck,” he says in English, and promptly runs out of sight and into the safety of the bathroom.
Haru only seems amused by his – lover’s? boyfriend’s? Rei still doesn’t know – reaction, and after a moment he lifts his hips to pull his own trousers up and looks around the floor, finding what are presumably Rin’s pants and using them to clean their releases off of himself. Only then does he look up at Rei and Nagisa, raising an eyebrow at them, still frozen by his front door. Rei, about five minutes too late, leaps into action.
“I’m so sorry, Haruka-senpai,” he starts, speaking quickly to get the apology out before Haru decides to kick him off the team for good. “We just came to see why you missed classes today – Makoto-senpai said you weren’t feeling well – and we just wanted to check on you and maybe bring you some food or medicine or – “
“I’m going to fucking _murder_ you, Haru,” comes a shout from the bathroom. Rei shuts his mouth awkwardly, still looking at Haru and hoping his expression is enough to convey what he’d been saying. Rin continues, “actually, _all_ of you. When was someone going to fucking _tell_ me – “
The rest is lost on the rest of them as he switches to English and another language Rei doesn’t recognize. He only catches snippets – “Haru” and “so embarrassing” and what sounds suspiciously like “know where you all practice,” but after a few moments he does come out of the bathroom, this time significantly more clothed. He stands outside the bathroom door, looks between them all again, and says, again, “Fuck.”
-
Dinner is an awkward affair, to say the least, but Rei had insisted that making some food for them all was “the least they could do, after everything.” Everyone keeps busy for a while, setting the table or pouring glasses of water or cooking up the fish, but eventually there’s nothing left to do and they all have to sit down together around the small kitchen table. (Rin adamantly refused to sit at the kotatsu. Haru didn’t seem to understand his hesitancy, but eventually conceded with a small and, if Rei isn’t mistaken, _fond_ smile.)
Other than Haru, who seems as unaffected as he always is, it’s Nagisa who seems to recover the quickest. “So,” he starts, when they’ve been eating in silence for a few minutes and no one else has made any move to speak. He never could stand the quiet for very long, and he sounds excited when he asks, “Are you two dating?”
It’s the obvious question, though perhaps not the most appropriate in this situation, given what they’ve just seen. But it seems to be enough to break the ice; Haru snorts as he plays with a piece of fish, and Rin does a full-on spit take, spewing the sip of water he’d just taken all over his plate. He looks equal parts horrified and embarrassed, but Haru just lifts a napkin to rub the excess water from Rin's mouth before tucking a stray piece of red hair behind his ear, making Rin blush even harder, then turns to face Rei and Nagisa across the table.
In lieu of a real explanation, he regards them both for a moment; Rin, for his part, seems to be awaiting his response as eagerly as Nagisa is, though he tries to cover it up by nervously dabbing at the water on his plate with the napkin. But Haru just shrugs, then looks back at Rin and says, simply, “I love him.”
Rei smiles unwittingly, Nagisa squeals in glee, and Rin turns as red as his hair and makes a face that suggests that if he had another mouthful of water, it would be all over his plate again. But he turns to face Haru, wide eyes and hope obvious on his face, and Haru tips his head up before letting Rin close the distance between them in a soft kiss. Rei looks away, smiling; this somehow feels much more intimate than anything else he’s seen them do today, and while he’s happy for his friends, he wants them to have their privacy for this. He hears them separate, hears Rin whisper something that sounds like “I love you, too,” and turns back just in time to see Rin press their foreheads together for a second before pulling away completely.
There’s a beat of silence as Nagisa and Rei recover from the rush of happiness at their friends’ revelations and Rin recovers from yet another bout of embarrassment. Then, mustering the best glare he can while he’s as happy as he is, Rin addresses all of them and says, “I’m still going to drain your fucking pool for this,” and the whole table bursts into laughter.
**Author's Note:**
> if you made it to this point, I guess that means you read this garbage I've written?? thank you!!?? seriously, thank you. that's all I can say. ^.^ | f06793dcc2c34dec99d6f2c4515b727d | ['52864c501fcf44ebb4b2396bbfd3418c'] |
wheels of fate
**Author's Note:**
> this is another idea I’ve had in my head forever, and wanted to save for something special (aka sarumi fest!). warning for non-graphic injury and (temporarily) disabled Saruhiko and for the worst title in recorded history. I'm not totally satisfied with how it turned out, but at least I made myself write something.... I hope people enjoy. Happy sarumi fest :)
It had been Misaki, of all people, to insist on the deep blue wheelchair.
Saruhiko hadn’t cared, had maybe even been leaning toward red (call him a masochist, but he had wanted it to hurt a little, a constant reminder of how he’d almost lost everything – and also, maybe, he associated red with good memories and _life_ and – )
Misaki, though, had insisted, and so here he was, freshly discharged from the hospital and blinking in the too-bright sunlight. It’s Thursday morning, and Misaki should be working at his part-time job at the bookstore near Homra (the irony of which isn’t lost on either of them), but instead he’s here, proudly wheeling Saruhiko out the glass front doors of the building where he’s spent the better part of a month, and Saruhiko can feel his smile even facing the opposite direction.
It’s contagious, and he allows himself a small grin despite the residual aches in his body. They are moving back in together, after all.
~
The day of the accident had been excruciating, both emotionally and physically.
Saruhiko is reluctant to even call it an accident, since his actions had been backed by deep and unhesitating purpose. When he threw himself between Misaki and what had turned out to be three bullets coming his way he was driven by the need to repent, to prove himself worthy of Misaki’s time and love, but mostly by desperation to protect.
The bullets, shot from the weapon concealed from their combined clans by a violent and powerful post-Slate Strain until it was too late, would have hit Misaki somewhere around his stomach and lower chest. It would likely have been fatal. In the moment, Saruhiko had calculated this, made the assessment that three bullets to his lower back (due to their height difference) would be far better than three to Misaki’s midsection, and this cold logic had almost been enough to distract from the near-paralyzing fear he’d felt when he recognized what had been about to occur.
They had been hanging out more since the destruction of the Slate, talking and gaming and rebuilding, even opened a joint savings account they’ve both been depositing into whenever they can, even talked about getting a place together. The warmth that flooded him when he was around Misaki had never faltered, just changed shape over the years, through their friendship and separation and reconciliation, so Saruhiko is familiar enough with what it means when his chest tightens up and his fingers tremble at the mere thought of Misaki’s smile, to say nothing of its physical presence. Their relationship is different this time around, and so the warmth has shifted a little bit again, but mostly it’s intensified, spread through his entire being until sometimes when Misaki’s around he quite literally cannot see or feel anything other than him.
He has lived with that feeling for the better part of his life; he doesn’t know what he’d do without it. That was the thought racing through his mind as he shielded Misaki’s body with his own, his momentum throwing them both to the ground where he’d cupped the back of Misaki’s head in one hand to cushion it. Just as he calculated, two bullets hit his lower back as he fell, one on each side of his spine and the other in his left thigh.
He doesn’t remember much after that – he’d confirmed Misaki’s safety, the relief from his assessment temporarily cushioning the pain of his condition, and then mostly what he remembers is Misaki’s panicked cries and the pain in his back. (He later learned he’d also broken the fingers of one hand from the impact of Misaki’s head, but that couldn’t have mattered to him less – Misaki was safe, Misaki was alive, Misaki was still warm and bright and red.)
As he’d laid on the sun-heated asphalt in a pain-induced daze, his view of the sun blocked every so often by the desperate bustle around him and by Misaki’s figure and Misaki’s fingers wrapped tight around one of his hands, he slowly started to accept another realization: he had been shot once in the leg, but couldn’t feel any pain radiating from that wound.
He figures the others figured it out at some point, when they tried to lift him and his legs proved to be no help at all, but some time later (minutes or hours or weeks, Saruhiko hadn’t known how much time passed) when they arrived at the hospital (Misaki always at his side, that he does remember), the prognosis had become clear: at least temporary paralysis from the waist down, with possibility of recovery through an ambitious new physical therapy program.
With possibility of permanency, in other words.
Saruhiko had stared at the doctor after he was told this, not feeling one way or another about it, still nearly numb with relief at Misaki’s safety even days after the injury. Misaki, though, had broken down, sobs wracking his exhausted body as he collapsed over Saruhiko’s chest on his hospital bed. For the first time, he had thought beyond his in-the-moment justifications of his actions to how Misaki must feel: his best friend paralyzed from saving him, and he must be blaming himself. |
bcc083f6ffc14ac1a47a8625542256d2 | ['5287f55980c546769f6e6ed82cf88817'] | "So bad, so fucking bad 'Zashi, please just fuck me already! Please!" The man on the bed barely made coherent sense, his words merging into one as he gushed out what he needed to say in whatever brief moment he was given to speak.
" **Good boy** , you remembered to ask nicely this time." The blonde withdrew his fingers, earning a whine from his partner which conflicted with his request, making Yamada grin. "Such a good boy, Shou-chan."
Continuing to croon and lavish him with praise, Yamada used the excess lube on his hand to slick himself up, wiping the rest on a nearby towel to make sure his grip wouldn't slip later. He lifted Aizawa's legs, wrapping them around his own waist for now, chuckling at the little hitch in breath he heard from his partner as the anticipation built up.
He wouldn't give him what he wanted just yet, however. Gripping the base of his cock and giving Aizawa a wicked smirk, Yamada nudged the head of his shaft against the slick loose hole, barely pressing in, rubbing it back and forth and watching the man below him twitch with overstimulation and need. Aizawa whined, holding nothing back, and even slammed a hand down on the bed in frustration.
"'Zashi, please!" He begged, and the blonde figured there'd be tears in the man's eyes if the blindfold wasn't on.
"Sshh, you're so impatient. I thought you were my good boy." Yamada tutted softly, shaking his head to add effect even if the other couldn't see him.
"I-I am..." Aizawa stuttered, face flushed red as his frantic movements stilled somewhat, though his hips still had an impatient wiggle.
"You're what?" Yamada coaxed him on, gently pushing the tip of his cock further into his eager entrance, but only dipping it in, barely reading past the ridge of the head.
"I-I'm... I'm a good boy..." The blindfolded man continued with a quiet and shy tone to his voice, but his arousal was clearly greater than any amount of embarrassment he was feeling.
"Then show me and wait for what I'm gonna give you. My good Shouta will love it, but only if he waits." The blonde reached up to tenderly brush strands of hair out of Aizawa's face, stroking his cheek and feeling the man lean into his touch instantly like a needy kitten.
Part of him wanted to give in and just slam his cock so far in his ass he'd be feeling it for days, so nice and loose and slick already from working him up enough, but Yamada held on. Inch by inch, he slipped his arousal further into him, pulling out ever-so slowly, only to nudge in a little further again on the next thrust.
Aizawa was going crazy. His breathing was laboured, face flushed, sweat coating his body, all as he fought not to thrust back, grab hold of his partner and demand more. But he wasn't in control right now, he was just supposed to follow orders, and he did it so well. This was his reward, and each hum of praise Yamada murmured to him shot straight to the leaking hard cock throbbing between his legs, untouched and aching.
Eventually, Yamada was fully sheathed inside him, settling there as his hips met Aizawa's, allowing him to get used to the sensation of feeling full. Not that the man needed to get used to it, having been fully stretched out by the blonde's talented fingers. He just let out another whine, biting his lip and almost sobbing at how torturous all the waiting was.
"Hizashi, please-" His words were very strained, voice cracking. "I can't-... I can't take it anymore, please."
Shushing him again, the blonde stroked his face, feeling how damp his cheeks were, though whether it was from sweat or tears wasn't clear. A flicker of concern followed, making him lean down and capture the man's lips in a gentle but deep kiss. Aizawa was practically trembling underneath him, hands obediently staying by his head where he was gripping tightly onto the pillow.
"Colour?" Yamada whispered as he broke away from the kiss.
"A-Amber... 'Zashi, it's too much..." Aizawa was at his limit, and with another peck on his lips Yamada straightened up again.
"Ssh, it's okay, such a good boy." He knew exactly what his partner wanted, how close to his breaking point he was, and the time for play was over.
In a swift movement, the blonde hooked Aizawa's legs over his shoulders, bending the man almost double while remaining balls-deep inside him. He leaned down on the bed, untangling Aizawa's hands from the grip he held on the pillows to lace their fingers together instead.
"Don't hold back, you have my permission to cum whenever you want." Yamada murmured softly to him, pecking him on the lips one more time before his hips began moving.
The new angle hit in all the right places, thrusting in deep and leaving Aizawa breathless. Yamada wasn't moving slowly either, his hips kept a firm and fast pace, determined to give all the pleasure he could to his obedient partner who was very deserving of the reward he was giving.
The room was soon filled with nothing but the sounds of grunting, moaning, and the wet smack of lube-slicked skin. With the blindfold obscuring his vision, Aizawa was in a world of darkness and the only thing he knew of was Yamada; his panting breath and whispered praises in his ear, the feeling of his hard cock thrusting deep into him, their sweat-soaked bodies grinding against each other, the smell of his hair dipping into his face. It was all almost too much. | 46a43b6bae73409b9c24f2ae39aaee6b | ['5287f55980c546769f6e6ed82cf88817'] | “There's a lot of reasons, some I'm not able to divulge but-”
“Yeah, I know, but still… I appreciate you listening to me anyway.” Nyx sighed once more, but there was a crook of a smile on the corner of his mouth. “Y'know, it's really nice to just… vent to someone who understands, especially from the other side of the fence.”
Cor snorted, but returned the small smile. “The grass is always greener on the other side, I believe the phrase is.”
“Don't tell me you want to be a Glaive instead of a Guard.” Nyx chortled, shaking his head in mirth.
Shrugging, Cor flagged down the bartender to order another round when he spotted Nyx was close to the end of his second glass. “Being the closest guards to the King comes with a lot of responsibility. The amount of people relying on you can get stifling. Sometimes, in comparison, the idea of being ‘just’ a Glaive seems almost a breath of fresh air. But then again… I also think I've seen sides of the King from the perspective of something other than any martial position.”
“Yeah? I guess you've known him for so long you're kinda close?” Nyx spoke as the bartender refilled their drinks, not taking any cash, not taking their orders. It was yet another layer of familiarity to their meeting. The pair of them paid their tab once a month like clockwork when their paychecks came in.
“When the Prince was born, for example, the King nearly had a breakdown over the fact Noctis slept nearly constantly, until someone finally clocked him over the head and told him that it's just what babies did.” Cor chuckled very lightly at the memory, barely a sound, shaking his head as he sipped on his new glass of Galahdian whisky. “I think that one was Clarus. Gladiolus would've been about two at the time, I think, and it was as if he wanted to give the King back as good as he'd given when Clarus was a new father.”
“Man, sometimes it's hard to see any of them as … well, people.” Nyx joined Cor with the glass, draining the last of his second and moving on to the beginnings of his third.
Galahdian whisky was well known for its strength, especially in the refugee district where it was more of the equivalent of ‘moonshine’ to any actual known whisky. The Marshall was fairly sure it was just bottled and labelled under the name ‘whisky’ to evade any legal ramifications, but as long as he could have a quiet drink and a night to himself he wasn't about to turn them in for it in the foreseeable future.
While it made him more loose lipped then usual, Cor couldn’t deny it was smooth. Even if they were knocking it back like water now, as they grew more and more talkative they wouldn’t be sipping it quite so readily, actually enjoying each other’s company.
Besides, the Marshall trusted Nyx not to tell anyone else about the ridiculous personal anecdotes he had about the King, which was saying something considering his struggle to make ‘friends’ with anyone else in his line of work.
“Reminds me when Libertus saw a friend of ours get hurt in training for the first time.” Snorting at the memory, Nyx was relaxing in his chair and turning more towards his companion. “He was so wound up that she’d ended up in the med bay that both me and her had to smack him over the head and tell him it wasn’t that bad. We were training and things were bound to happen, so he’d better get used to it.”
“Don’t get me started on Regis’ warping mishaps…”
“No, you can’t just say that and tell me to ignore it. You’re going to tell me every little detail because I can’t imagine King Regis doing what green recruits do at all.”
And so Cor told stories. Remembering the good times between them on their journey was nostalgic, bringing a rare but genuine smile to his face as Nyx returned his tales with some of his own. Some from Galahd, some from Insomnia, but all were serving to make the two of them forget, if only for a while, the annoyances and rage their work brought them.
All the while the bartender supplied them with drinks, eventually leaving them the whole bottle so he could tend to other customers as the night grew busier. Still no one bothered the two in the corner, sat on the very end of the bar perched on stools they were slowly beginning to fall out of.
Nyx howled with laughter over the idea of Regis with baby vomit on his royal suit, while Cor's face could've split from how much he smiled at Nyx having to cut out Libertus' first attempts at braids which left his hair in knots. The two men needed the break from the harsh reality their jobs faced, and being reminded how human they both were was refreshing.
"Closing time!" The bartender called out from the other side of the counter what felt like only minutes later. Cor checked his watch; they'd been there for over four hours.
"Didn't realise it was that late already." He commented, raising an eyebrow and moving to stand out of his seat. His feet touched the floor, but he felt as if his entire body wouldn't stay still, swaying as his vision swam.
Tentatively, Cor took a couple of steps. Eventually his eyes focused but it was very clear how drunk he was. Galahdian whiskey was definitely the good stuff.
Chuckling besides him, Nyx stumbled far more than him, slinging an arm around his shoulders as the two moved to exit the bar. “Thanks for listening, man. ” He said sincerely, words slurring but mostly coherent. “Feels like Titan just got off my back. You’re just… the best.” |
d216ba675fb54119a932c07700c129b5 | ['52ad3d1acf53433586f72eba57de5215'] | Her owner clucked her tongue at the angel disapprovingly. "Tsk tsk, slave. Your judgment has just begun." she flickered the dagger back and forth, intimidating Kayle. "There are so many things we have yet to discuss." LeBlanc finished toying with the Demacian and set the dagger down on the floor. "You honestly do not believe that I intend to excuse your punishment so soon, do you?" She rose and index finger and in a snap, a small flame ignited on her finger, it does not cause any harm to her skin but it was indeed a flame. LeBlanc raised the flame up to her nostrils which flared slightly, excitedly at the aroma of the flame. It was long, lean and richly scented. Reaching down to the bounded slave and held it near her skin. Kayle felt the uncomfortable heat merely a few inches away from burning her skin. A lone drop of sweat made its way down her face, leaving a trail of temporary coolness in its wake. The white-haired angel squirmed in her chains, hoping the flame would not burn her skin. LeBlanc then took time, a good deal of time to pull the flame away from the angel. "So many things in this world are rushed. A flame, like fine wine, or excellent brandy should never be hurried." She mused. Once she pulled the flame away from the tormented slave, LeBlanc whirled her finger in a circle, the fire lightly stretching the movement. "Don't you agree, my dear?" The Noxian looked at her with indolence.
Kayle moved and the chains cut deeper into her body, her golden eyes closed with the pain. Her heart was pounding, her throat was dry and she felt dizzy and sick. None of this made any sense to her, what punishment will LeBlanc choose? Slowly she opened her eyes once more and looked at her owner, really looked at her. Strange memories of home seeped within her memories:
_As a ten-year-old Kayle trudged on the dank marsh, the cool breeze became colder. The child heaved her old shoes - one foot slowly after the other - from the gurgling mud, whilst the wisps of wind whipped against her raw calves. What had begun as a walk along the hazy, violet meadows had become a torment. The breeze had morphed into a beast, its merciless gusts thrashing against her damp best attire; Kayle was breathless with fatigue as she fell face first into the sodden grass. She lifted her head and groaned at the outstretched trees moving along the wind that lay ahead. Checking behind each tree, looking for her twin that was hiding. After searching for fifteen minutes, Kayle was not able to find her sister._
_"Morgana! You won! Come out now!” She called out to her twin. The only noises she heard in response were the tree branches striking against each other and the strong hallowing wind. Perhaps Morgana was hiding far from where she was currently standing._
_Kayle pondered over the thought for quite some time, whilst the wetness of the grass clung to her limbs, coughing its distastes of the foreign organism that was suffocating it. The child staggered to her feet, looking back sorrowfully. All she had wanted was to reconnect with the rays of sunshine that had once brightened her days, to be closer to the father she so dearly loved. She does not want to be surrounded by this unbounded darkness hugging her. Kayle kicked at a pebble in front of her feet and ran her hand through her white hair, before hopping on one leg, grabbing her painful toe that rung like an alarm bell._
_“Morgana! This isn’t funny!”_
_The night was falling, creeping towards her from all sides. The young Demacian scampered through the undergrowth, her little feet carrying her deeper and deeper into the trees. No matter how far she ran, nor how fast, she could not outrun this darkness, and she didn't know how to find her twin. She would have thought she was running in the right direction, had been almost certain of it when she'd begun moving, but surely Kayle should have left the forest by now if that were true. The girl didn't want to risk changing direction and delving even deeper into the trees, so she maintained her path, running and running, and all the while her fear was growing in her chest. Kayle clenched her eyes shut and ran faster. As she ran further down the forest with her hands clenched tightly to head Her unbreaking gaze to the trail kept her from noticing a figure walking directly towards her. Without breaking the person's stride, the shoulder of the figure checked her. Kayle lost her balance and fell on her head from the sudden force._
_Kayle groaned in pain and rubbed her, once her sight came back and looked up at the figure standing before her. The moonlight splashed down its watery white-silver glow onto the figure which turned out to be a beautiful dark purple-haired woman, the moonlight washed over her pale skin and amber eyes. She was wearing an odd golden head-wear almost resembling a crown with a red gem in the middle. She was holding a golden staff and wore a purple and golden cape, though it did not cover her body suit that revealed more of her pale skin. And in the distance the trees were silhouetted against the deep velvety sky, the woman amber eyes met hers and she asked in a kind and soothing voice:_
_“Darling, are you lost?”_
Those odd memories of her childhood brought Kayle violently back to reality, Kayle looked with a clear eye at the woman who would be tormenting her for eternity. Kayle was startled by the thought this is where she would spend her time here for eternity and the pain from the chains cut into her soft flesh again. The judicator groaned in pain. | 879119e255ce4d53a5dc69ed2fadcbc9 | ['52ad3d1acf53433586f72eba57de5215'] | “Well done, Casséaile. You can finally come from this,” she started lifting her blood covered fingers to the girl, her amber eyes looked back to the dismembered finger on the floor. “You can relax for a little while in the bath, then you clean up that mess over there.”
LeBlanc wiped her finger on a nearby towel and walked back to her room to get dressed, leaving the angel alone in the bathroom. Kayle leaned back against the tub and rested her head, she sighed to herself and thought of something else.
The water is cold now, nothing she can do about that. In winter it will be worse. She doesn’t fight the cold feeling even though her flesh is already goose-bumped. Her backside is nothing but rash, broken, even bleeding in places and it extends a little down her legs. Painful no doubt. Kayle begins to cry as she washes over it, different from before, higher pitched and again she reaches for someone to hold her, but no one is there. Alone she sits in the cold bath with her thoughts, she sinks herself deeper in the tub, watching the water move along with her movements, lost in the rhythmic percussion of waves on the soap. Her gold eyes are steady to the water, face aglow with the rose and soapy smell of the bath that filled the room and soothed her mind. Her lips bear the semblance of a smile, just enough to show that she is enjoying her thoughts, whatever they may be. Kayle moves her hand on the surface of the water and moved it closer so that she feels the soap and foam against her skin, yet stays quiet, allowing her to stay lost in the moment a while longer.
All of the noise disappeared in an instant. It was like being stuck between two realities: one that was imperfect, but doable. The other the vision where she pictured herself in, the one she longed herself to be a part of. Was is a possibility to make that world into reality? The only thing that separated her from achieving the dream was herself. The angel looked down at her legs in the water, her skin picked up a tingly sensation in the water and it felt as if she could move her legs again. Unaware of her own heart beating or the rise and fall of her chest, she drifted into semi-consciousness. The drone of the sounds outside was as good as a lullaby to the wingless angel. She would never relax with all that still quietness or loud noises. The soft sounds outside filled her head with soothing thoughts and the water under her legs felt like she was laying on clouds. Back in Demacia, Kayle would always lay on the clouds and relax after a long day of passing judgment, now being in this tub with her legs stripped away remind her of just that. An incense stick burned at her open window, some lavender drifted out to meet the spring air and just the right amount stayed in the room, just a hint. Her mind had long gone relaxed and it was later than she suspected. When she opened her heavy lids the room was already twilight and the candles had extinguished themselves.
Kayle sighed to herself and looked down at her fingers, the bleeding on her ring finger had stopped but it still bothered her how she had no idea her pinky was gone for a while now, judging by the wounds she suspected she lost it during the illusion. Her gold eyes next looked at her feet under the water, in what almost felt like a trance she stared at one of her toes and thought to herself how long will this go on until she can regain her legs again. Kayle’s hands moved on the top of the water and made small moves with her hand. When the small bath wave reached the end of the tub where her feet were she felt a small shock from the cold water that caused her to jump up. It was more than just a slight tingle that ran underneath the Judicator skin. No, it was as though someone had attached a live wire to each of her nerves, and her body convulsed as the violent electrical current pulsed through her legs. Kayle moved in discomfort from the sudden shock and that's when she noticed it….she had managed to move her legs.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Yes, our dear Kayle is finally recovering her legs back, slowly but surely!
19. To Forget
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Bacchanalia party in Morgana's POV
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So yes we finally get a Morg pov chapter, enjoy!
Morgana thought everything that had happened to her sister was all just. Kayle deserved all of this, she would not save her sister from this fate. Still, she felt like the death of their father and the many humans Kayle had murdered was not what caused their relationship to break apart, there was something else. Something the girls hide back in their subconscious and masked it through other emotions to hide the truth, disregarding Morgana did not know it until later in the week.
During her visit to General Du Couteau manor, she noticed Kayle acted differently than the last time she saw her. The elder twin looked slightly better but still appeared battered and dead on the inside. She seemed a hollow shell of what she once was as if LeBlanc took that part of her that is broken and make it a ghost, a ghost that falls away and nothing. What remains is an emptiness desperate to be filled with some compassion. |
1a88a6cf316e4a118aa81236a78094da | ['52bc743559974eb8bc5c418e9c5770d1'] | Levi felt his breath hitch as he listened to Eren’s haunting voice, recognizing the tune from earlier. “Meee,” Bright-eyes breathed, holding out the ‘e’. Closing in on Levi, he was soon within arm’s length. A dangerous look burned within Eren’s eyes, but Levi wasn’t bothered. “Levi, Levi, Levi,” Eren drawled, watching the ravenette struggle to not move. “Don’t you just like how it sounds, Levi?”
_What the hell is wrong with me_ , Levi thought having an internal battle with himself squirming just a bit. Eren watched Levi fight to keep up his act and leaned in at a tantalizingly slow place. “Goodnight,” he uttered, in a husky voice right next to Levi’s ear. With that, the cocky brunette headed to his own side of the room. Frozen in place, Levi felt his heart racing as he followed the cause of his distress with careful eyes.
Knowing fully well what he was doing, Eren slid off his shirt and pants fortunately ~~or maybe unfortunately~~ keeping on his boxers. Once Eren climbed into his bed, Levi seemed to regain control of his body. Cursing the teasing brunette and his alluring voice with those damn eyes, Levi got ready for bed himself. No way was he going to get any more work done. Stripping out of his own clothes right there, Levi threw on some sweatpants feeling eyes on him the whole time. Without a word, he shuffled towards his bed and clambered in. _Goodnight my a--_ , he mentally said.
* * *
Rubbing at his eyes, Levi groaned at the blinding sun. Throwing the covers off, he very slowly got out of bed. Peeking over at his room mate's bed, Levi couldn't help but let his gaze linger. Sleeping, Eren looked like the exact opposite of how he acted. A stray hair had Levi's fingers itching to fix it. Before he did something he'd regret, the ravenette got dressed and went to get some breakfast. "No," he bluntly said before the other could even speak.
"Leviiii," they whined. "I'll buy you coffee if you tell me!" Grumbling to himself, Levi didn't say anything which Hange took as a 'yes'. Squealing in delight, they dragged Levi along with them to an on campus cafe called Maria. "What's his name? How old is he? Is he cute? Is he gay? What is he majoring in? How tall is his?" in one breath, Hange asked way too many questions for this early in the morning. Upon seeing the unamused look on the shorter man, they graciously repeated the questions at a more understandable speed, then ordered for the both of them.
"Brat's name is Eren and he's a cocky little sh--," Levi grunted, not having more to say. "Don't look at me like that. Unlike some people, I don't interrogate strangers."
"I'll just have to talk to him myself," Hange declared, before adding, "But do tell why he's cocky." Levi recognized the crazy gleam in their eyes and shook in his in refusal. Grabbing their drinks and food, Hange turned back to the uncooperative ravenette. "Come on, did he try to seduce you?" they asked with a cheeky grin. Yelping, they rubbed their head not losing their enthusiasm. Soon Erwin came and they turned their attention to harassing the blonde. Of course Erwin was made aware of Levi's new roommate and proceeded to bug him about it, too. Both Hange and Erwin earned a 'I hate you' from Levi.
Eventually Levi managed to escape the two, saying he needed to get ready for his first class. Walking into his room to get his stuff, Levi saw Eren was up and gone. Still not knowing why he'd even bought it, Levi left a bag with a pastry he'd gotten from the little cafe. _I'm going to regret that,_ he thought as he started towards English: Analyzing and Interpreting Literature.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This was originally a lot shorter than I thought it was so I literally just added some more to it XD which is shown by the line I put in
3. Eren, You Tease
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Just as the title says, :P Eren being a tease, plus some cheesy pick-up lines because I love them XD
“Yes Mikasa, I know,” Eren repeated for the millionth time. “Okay, come on, we both know I won’t be getting any girls pregnant.” Rolling his eyes at his sister’s usual antics, Eren finally hung up.
“What’s this about pregnant girls?” an amused voice asked, having come in near the end of the conversation. Eren felt his lips curl into a smirk as he met his roommate’s eyes.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased. Standing up from his bed, Eren walked towards Levi at a leisurely pace. “So it appears someone left a pastry in here,” Eren mused. He was pleased as the raven-haired man held his gaze.
“Oh really, how was it?” Levi asked, moving towards his side of the room.
Not one to let things be easy, Eren quickly blocked his path. “I didn’t eat it,” he replied nonchalantly. Suddenly getting an idea, he leaned in towards the shorter. He didn’t miss the way Levi’s breath caught. “It looked good,” Eren whispered, “But I know something else I’d rather eat.”
As if nothing had happened, Eren pulled away and plopped onto his bed. He subtly glanced at his roommate, enjoying the faintest tint of pink on Levi’s cheeks. Just to mess with him further, Eren called, “Pinks a nice color on you.” Levi simply glared at him before opening some book.
Chuckling to himself, Eren sent a quick text to Armin, making sure they were still meeting up tomorrow. He soon received a ‘yes’ from the blond. Having that taken care of, Eren probably should do homework, but how could he when he had something much more fun to do. | c060855594bf4f31b1352d7f19b63e0c | ['52bc743559974eb8bc5c418e9c5770d1'] |
My Beautiful One
**Author's Note:**
> I did change, "My beautiful girl" to "My beautiful one"
> Enjoy
“Aww, are you moping?” Hange asked, feigning seriousness, but failing miserably. The ravenette scowled in return, not bothering to grace them with an answer. Cackling obnoxiously loud, or so to a ~~moping~~ annoyed Levi, even Erwin was chuckling. “Lighten up, munchkin. That cutie will come around eventually.” If looks could kill, Hange would be 6 feet under, but by now they were accustomed to Levi and his ‘menacing’ looks.
“First of all, I am not moping,” Levi snapped. “Secondly, call me that again, Four-eyes.” By now, Hange was on the ground in stitches, bugging the ravenette being a favorite pastime of theirs.
“Ahh, so he can talk,” Erwin joked, receiving his very own glare.
“I hate both of you,” Levi grumbled. Before he could continue listing why he ‘hated’ the two, Levi’s, the door opened. “Oh it’s only you.”
“Nice to see you, too,” Farlan responded with a grin. Just a few seconds later, Mr. Pixis of Titan Music Corporations walked in.
~
“Is this meeting over yet?” Levi yawned, getting up to stretch while the producer was out of the room. He was pretty sure his butt was numb from sitting so long.
“Levi, you realize this could lead to something big for us as musicians,” Erwin clucked. “One day without him and look at you.”
“Tch, thanks. I’m just naturally a great big ball of sunshine, right?” Levi said sarcastically. Erwin in turn rolled his eyes with an amused look. All of them had seen firsthand the impact Eren had on Levi and they were all surprised to hear Eren telling Levi to leave him alone.
“I wouldn’t say big…” Hange began, emitting the expected response.
"If I were you, I wouldn't say anything," Levi threatened, but was cut off by his phone suddenly ringing. “Eren?!” he all but cried.
“L-Levi, I miss you,” Eren whimpered.
“Shh, I’m coming. Stay there, okay?” Levi responded, hanging up after hearing a weak goodbye. “I know this is important bu-”
“Just go, Levi,” Farlan urged, trying to conceal a grin. “We’ll make some excuse up, don’t worry.” Levi didn’t need to be told twice. All but running out of the building, Levi hopped onto his bike and sped off.
“Hange no. You’re not going to go follow him,” Erwin scolded, the brunette who was trying to sneak out.
~
Parking quickly Levi burst into the house. “Eren, where are you?” he shouted. Not getting a reply, Levi began to worry. “Babe, are you here? Please answer me.” Checking all the rooms, he finally reached their bedroom. He noticed the comforter was missing from the bed. Suddenly the faintest sound met his ears and he stilled. “Eren?” he tried again. Following the muffled sounds, he slowly creeped open the closet door. The whimpering and sniffling became clearer. “Hey, hey what happened?” Kneeling down, Levi studied the heartbreaking sight before him. A tear-stained face and usually bright now dull eyes met his own. Picking the shaking figure before him, Levi placed Eren on the bed gently before climbing in next to him. Not the best at comforting people, Levi carefully pulled Eren to him. “Shhh, I’ve got you.” Kissing his boyfriend’s forehead, Levi absentmindedly began running his fingers through the brown strands. “Where’s your flower crown?” he asked, noticing the pink accessory he’d seen Eren wear pretty much everyday was missing.
“T-they took it,” the brunette replied in a barely audible voice. Tensing up, Levi felt didn’t say anything as Eren continued.. “Said it was stupid..that I was stupid an-” Eren’s voice cracked, which only caused Levi’s blood to boil.
“Who?” he pushed, trying not to frighten Eren.
“Doesn’t matter,” Eren mumbled, an occasional sniffle still escaping him. “I’m sorry.” Meeting Eren’s eyes, Levi gave him a confused look. “For being like this. You must hate it. You probably think ‘Why can’t he just pick a gender?’, right? Or ‘Why is he so weak? It’s just a flower crown’ ” A deafening silence ensued and Eren cautiously looked up at his boyfriend. “Levi?” he whispered unsurely. Quietly, Levi released Eren and walked out of the room. Tears began to prick at the boy’s eyes as he feared he’d upset or angered the ravenette. After a couple minutes, Levi walked back in with..his guitar? Confused, Eren attempted to dry his eyes but couldn’t seem to as the tears weren’t ceasing. Still Levi said nothing, as he climbed back onto the bed. Realizing how big of a douche he’d probably seemed at not saying anything, Levi was mentally beating himself up. “I’m sorry,” Eren cried. “You’re probably tired of me always bein-” Levi silenced the sobbing mess with a chaste kiss before pulling away and beginning to strum the strings.
“I wish I could do better for you, ‘cause that’s what you deserve,” Levi sang quietly, Despite being in a relationship, Levi still sucked horribly at getting his emotions across. You could say he was emotionally constipated. So he resorted to singing as to get his feelings across. Eren had managed to stop sniffling and was now entranced by his boyfriend’s voice. “When you cry a piece of my heart dies, knowing that I may have been the cause. If you were to leave, fulfill someone else's dreams, I think I might totally be lost,” Levi looked into Eren’s eyes. They were his favorite eyes, more so when they were full of life, but none the less even with tears in them, Levi couldn’t help but love them. “You don't ask for no diamond rings, no delicate string of pearls. That's why I wrote this song to sing, my beautiful one.” By the end of the song, Eren was in tears again, but this time they were at least happy tears. Wiping futilely at his eyes with the sleeves of his sweater, Eren felt familiar hands on his. Levi slowly pulled Eren’s hands away and replaced them with his own.
Wiping away the stray tears, Levi looked deeply into Eren’s eyes. “Better now?” he asked, in a hushed voice. Throat sore from crying, Eren could only nod as he buried his face into the crook of Levi’s neck. “I love you so damn much, Eren. Don’t you ever think that I could tire of you or ever be annoyed with you. Your flower crowns are not stupid, they’re adorable. You’re adorable,” Levi ranted, all the while rubbing small circles into Eren’s back. “I love you, all of you. I don’t care that some days you’re a guy and others you’re a girl. Okay? I love you, just how you are. You’re not weak or stupid, you’re perfect how you are. You’re my beautiful one.”
“I love you, too, so much. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Eren replied, choking up a bit. Cooing softly, Levi slowly detached himself from Eren so he could put away his guitar. Eren nervously followed, not wanting to seem overly clingy, but not wanting to be away from Levi.
“God, you’re going to kill me,” Levi breathed, admiring LINK. Blushing furiously, Eren scurried back to their bedroom and crawled under the covers. Strong arms soon captured Eren in them and the brunette willingly obliged. Snuggling up close, he placed his head on Levi’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. Eren soon fell asleep listening to Levi’s humming. |
1430afb1763a491bbf3c15a459b954a2 | ['52c59147283d48e098c75064b71c5311'] | A few minutes passed. Max returned with the DVD case. He shook it, disk rattling inside. “This was live when it first came on. Halloween, 1992. Scared the living shit out of Gwen when she saw it for the first time. And me as well, I'll admit that much.” Max laughed slightly, turning on the old, hardly working DVD player and the ‘Ye-olde TV’ David and Gwen let him have, along with the NES and all the games. “I'll get it started up. If you want some popcorn it's in the cabinet, bottom shelf. Make it yourself. There should be some drinks in the fridge, too. If not I'll just ask Gwen to pick some up while she's out. The first part of it is just like anti-piracy stuff so if you're not back by the time it starts I'll pause it.”
Preston rolled his eyes, sitting up from the pillow under his chest. “‘Make it myself’? Oh, you're no fun.”
“I pride myself. I'm willing to share if you're cool with that.”
“Fine. But only because I tolerate you.”
More time passed, Max pausing the disk when the actual documentary started and waiting for Preston to come back in.
Once the other did, they sat down together and started the disk again. Max laughing as Preston clung to him when the ghost, dubbed ‘Mr. Pipes’, would appear even slightly on screen.
An hour or so, and Preston was practically screaming into Max's hoodie as everything went to shit on screen.
“Doing okay there?”
“WHaT DO YOU THINK!?”
“Credits are rolling.”
“THANK GOD!!”
…
By the time David and Gwen were home it was late. Almost Midnight.
Gwen started putting things away while David went to check on Max and Preston. A peek in revealed the two cuddled up, Max holding Mister Honeynuts and Preston wrapped around Max.
A quick picture for the scrapbook and he stepped away, returning to throw a blanket over the duo before going to tell Gwen about it.
3. Chapter 3??/Formal Rave
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm sorry the pull of MaxPres was too strong
A somewhat formal school dance. 6 friends paired themselves off into ‘couples’ so everyone could avoid extra prices, though it was mutually agreed it was only as friends.
Max and Preston were sitting and chatting, both dressed up. They had matching boutonnières. Preston’s idea, but everyone else seemed to like the idea, so everyone went along with it. Harrison’s matched Nerris’s corsage, the same with Neil and Nikki. He had bought them for everyone himself.
Harrison was nearby, attempting to impress Nerris with some magic tricks, while Neil attempted to keep Nikki from climbing the folded bleachers. Max turned to Preston, trying to ignore the flashing lights behind the other.
“So, any update on school drama with the upperclassmen?”
The school they all attended was huge, separated into sections by grades, though it was kindergarten all the way to high school sophomores. They were currently celebrating Homecoming. 5th graders through 12th were allowed in, as long as they bought tickets and didn't get into fights.
“Yes, for once. I heard from someone that one of the club leaders… oh.. what was his name again? Warner Wolf, I believe? Anyway, he apparently got himself into quite a bit of trouble with his girlfriend. Over nothing! He was talking to one of his male friends, she got jealous and just dragged him the fuck away! She's been acting like that ever since he came out as Bi.”
“Shit. Sounds like chaos.” Max took the wrapper of the Kit-Kat he bought and bit right into it. “Glad we don't have to worry about that kind of stuff.”
Preston cringed. “Why?” His tone was desperate as he gestured to the sweet, which had a huge chunk bitten out of the top.
Max shrugged. “I like making people uncomfortable.”
“You’re surprisingly good at that..”
“I pride myself. Any other news?”
“Nothing much. Though the lights in here are giving me a pounding headache..”
“Wanna head back to the commons? You look tired.”
“Yeah. What time is it?”
“Uh.. almost nine. You about ready to head home?”
“Eh. I'll see how I fare.”
Max glanced over into the crowd, seeing a large circle forming. “Ah, shit. Is that a fight or a dance off?”
“Give it a second.”
“ITS THE LEGEND HIMSELF!!” Someone screamed from the group.
“It's a dance off. ‘The legend’ is probably Space Kid. He's popular at dances like this for being a good dancer around here. Wins most dance battles.”
“Huh. Wish I'd lived in this school district sooner.”
Max stood, holding out a hand to help Preston up and guide him through the crowd.
The two walked back into the cafeteria, moving their stuff from a freshman-invaded table to one of the folded tables near the back, sitting on the seats closer to the ground. A faint chorus of ‘apple bottom jeans’ erupted from the gym.
Within a few minutes of groggy conversation, Preston wa holding his head, looking miserable. Max expressed concern. “Dude, really. I can call David or Gwen and ask ‘em to pick us up early if you want. You look sick..”
“If you don't mind?”
“Yeah. I'm usually asleep by now anyway so I'm tired as fuck.”
A few button presses.
“Yeah, hey. I'm getting tired and Preston's getting sick, so we need to leave early… uh huh.. yeah I know… you too.”
He hung up. “Gwen’ll be here in about 10 or 20 minutes. Take it easy. Need a drink or something?”
“I'm alright for now, but thanks anyway.”
“Okay. Wanna go outside?”
“I guess? Shouldn't we wait for everyone else?”
“Everyone else has a ride home, we don't need to worry about that. C’mon. It should be quiet out there.”
The duo walked outside, sitting on a nearby bench. | 9cdb3108d1df47adbde05b75a4089da8 | ['52c59147283d48e098c75064b71c5311'] | The air was chilly. It almost felt like you were inhaling frost. The area was quiet, save for a couple nearby, laughing in between passionate kisses. Max grimiced. That was at least the 4th couple he'd seen sucking face that night alone. Preston cleared his throat, attempting to break the silence.
“So..” He visibly cringed. It must have come out louder than he intended. “I was.. um.. planning on inviting you guys over to my place for a fall party sort of thing? I dunno.. I don't get to see you and the rest of ‘the gang’ out of school or study days together very often.”
Max shrugged. “Yeah. David’ll probably let me go.”
A loud car horn. Gwen was there.
They stood, heading to the car.
“Tonight was fun.”
“Yeah..”
The first few minutes of the ride were silent.
Max slouched in his seat, unbuttoning his vest. “Gwen, can you turn up the radio?”
“Nah, volume controls are shot. It keeps going up when you try to adjust it. We're savin’ up to repair it, don't worry.”
“Ugh.”
“So how was the dance? David wanted me to ask.”
“Good I guess?”
“You guess?”
“Yeah. It was loud. More of a rave than a formal dance.”
“Sounds like fun to me.”
“I ate a kit-kat without breaking any of it off.”
“Like an absolute animal.” Preston poked fun at Max, gently punching the other in the arm.
They both laughed.
“So Pres, what's your opinion on it?”
“Stuffy. Space Kid won a dance off though.”
“Again?”
“Mhm.”
“How many is that now?”
“I don't know but he's practically the reigning champ. Someone even called him ‘the legend himself’”
“Nice. Tell him we say hi next time you guys see him, will ya’?”
“Yeah.”
“How was dinner?”
“Eh. We didn't eat much but it was still nice.”
“Well that's good. Max, would you walk Preston up and make sure he gets in okay?”
“Yeah.”
The two stepped out, heading up to the door.
“So when should I come over?” Max asked, glancing up at the stars.
Preston followed the other's gaze. “Maybe Friday?”
“Yeah, sounds okay. Should I bring a movie?”
“Have the others seen that Ghostwatch thing? That was good.”
“I don't think so. I'll bring some other stuff too, though.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
They stopped at the door, Preston moving one of the friendly feral cats that had taken up residence of the porch. The calico meowed as he set her on a chair.
“Geez, how many cats do you even have?”
“None, actually. They just kind of come and go. This one is Juliet. She's the momma cat. Romeo only comes by when there's food out. She just likes the attention.”
“Sounds like you.”
“Tch. Shut up.”
More laughter.
“Tonight really was fun though.”
“I guess.”
A moment of awkward silence as they made eye contact, practically staring at each other.
Without any real thought about it, a brief kiss was exchanged between them.
“Is that fucking artificial cake batter?
“It's the only chapstick we had, okay!?”
“Don't..uh..” Max’s face flushed slightly. “Don't tell the guys about this.”
“I won't if you won't.”
“It's settled then.”
A moment of silence.
“Is the door unlocked?”
“Yeah.. uh.. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
A slight nod as the other went inside. “See you tomorrow.”
The two parted ways.
“So,” Gwen broke the silence a few minutes into the ride. “You and Preston, huh?”
“WAIT YOU SAW US!!?”
4. Chapter 4, I'm getting better at naming these
“C’mon! That asshole fucking started it! I only shoved her away and she decked me in the goddamn face, kicked me in the ribs and purposely stomped on my foot! I'm surprised she hasn't even gotten in trouble! Playing the fucking victim card like we ganged up on her.. Preston wasn't even fighting back! What the hell do you expect me to do, just stand there and let that douchebag beat him to a pulp!?”
“Max, first of all, watch your language. Second, yes, I admire you standing up for Preston, but just because you're trying to defend someone doesn't mean you can get into fights like this.”
“God, I wish Gwen came to get us.”
“Consider yourself lucky she didn't. I wouldn't be surprised if she took it worse.”
Max had a sleeve pressed against his bloody nose. He had gotten himself involved in one of the too-often fights at the school. Granted a 5th grader taking on an 8th grader wasn't the brightest idea, but then again, an 8th grader beating up a 5th grader who refused to fight back wasn't fair either. Someone had to do something. It was worth a few bruises and a possibly sprained ankle to help someone out, right?
Preston, who had been sent home early with Max due to his own injuries, pulled a napkin out of the pocket of his worn letterman jacket, handing it to Max with his free hand. The other was pressed lightly against his chest. “Blood can be particularly hard to get out of fabric if you let it dry.” He mumbled softly, letting his hand linger on the other’s for a bit too long. “I've fallen enough times to learn that the hard way..”
Max shrugged, spitting out a curt, “Thanks..” in response.
“Preston, would you like to stay over for a little while? We have a first aid kit if you need it.”
“I wouldn't want to bother you.”
“You won't be bothering anyone, don't worry. Your Grandmother isn't home now anyway, is she?”
A slight shrug. “Probably not. Not exactly sure where she goes during school but she's never there. Always manages to get home before I do, though.”
“Just say yes already..”
“Max, don't be rude.”
An angry sigh. Max went back to staring out of the window, trying to stop his nosebleed.
“Thanks for helping me back there.. sorry you got hurt.” |
a8211a4f76f94909969da5ea4bfa0957 | ['52cc4c4d5b6f4f3eba531ebe5f95186b'] |
Love Syndrome
**Author's Note:**
> I wrote this just a little over five years ago. It's a little bit dark in some places, I think. It's not a schmoopy, fluffy fic in any way shape or form.
"She is, laughter and warmth. She is, beauty and grace."
He sleeps.
He dreams.
And dreams and dreams.
He lives. He breathes.
And wakes. He wakes and blue eyes flicker open.
Silence, save for his quiet, even breathing, in the darkness of the night.
His lips part, forming the words though no sound escapes.
_I remember._
~*~*~*~
_I love the sound of the rain. These days though, it's hard to hear much of anything. But sometimes I close my eyes, and it all comes rushing back._
_The warmth of your body against mine, thigh to thigh, shoulder pressed to shoulder. Your sweat-slick skin and the undeniable scent of your juniper and evergreen cologne mixed with the heady aroma of your cherry cigarillos. A scent that is yours and yours alone. The sound of your laughter, rumbling from your chest. The open window, drifting lightly in the breeze as the rain falls outside our apartment. Falls and falls and falls._
_I never did get over you. Never really tried._
_Just...drifted through life in a haze. Half awake, half asleep in a dream._
_I don't think I ever told you, but I loved you._
_I loved you, right up to the very second you walked out of my life on a rainy Sunday afternoon. I loved your smile and the way your lips would curve up into that familiar grin. The one that always sent a little shiver through my body, settling into a gentle warmth in my belly. Your fashion sense that no one seemed to appreciate except for yourself (though I secretly did as well). Your hands, so large but infinitely gentle when they held me. Your fingers laced through mine. I loved the way you gasped my name as we loved one another, as we made love on a lazy Monday morning. The way you would tighten around me, teeth sinking into your lower lip when you came._
_I loved everything about you, even the stupid little things that made me mad. Like the way you never remembered to close the cap on the tube of toothpaste. Or the way you'd read one of my books and leave it on the coffee table when you were done instead of putting it away. I even loved and hated the way your feet were always cold, even under the covers._
_I miss you. I probably don't think I do, but you'd be wrong. I miss the way you'd make me that perfect cup of Earl Grey tea when I'm feeling under the weather. The way you'd send me a postcard every single day when we were apart for more than two or three days. I miss the sight of your coats crowding the closet, your shoes next to mine._
_You always made this place feel lived in. You were the one who made it worth coming home. You made it more than just a house. A home. Our home._
Shutting his eyes, Arthur sags into the window seat as though his own weight is too much for him. He leans his head back until it gently meets brick and plaster. He snaps his little black book shut and lets it fall into his lap.
He writes, not because he wants to, but because he wants to get all his thoughts out. Wants to get rid of them. As though, by laying them to ink, he's laying them to rest. But the thoughts, the words, they never rest. They just circulate in his mind, growing and growing.
After a few moments, though he's not sure how many, he gets up, setting his book on top of the small stack of books already on his work desk. Dragging his weary body to the bathroom, he strips and, for once, doesn't bother to neatly hang his clothes. Instead, they fall into a haphazard pile on the floor. Arthur just can't bring himself to care.
Under the hot shower, he tries to relax but the thoughts never leave him. He's not the type to let things go. Hell, he _still_ thinks about the Stein job and every little error that eventually ended up having them torn to shreds.
Under the scalding stream of water, it takes the Point Man a few moments to realize his doorbell is ringing.
Shit. He'd forgotten Ariadne would be dropping by to pick up some texts for her class. Arthur has a vast collection of texts on Escher and the Architect, ever the brilliant student, wanted to study them.
Hurriedly, he finishes his shower. Stepping out and dripping water, he gives his hair a quick scrub with a towel before wrapping another around his waist. He shuffles to the his front door and pulls it open, without even bothering to check the peephole.
“Sorry, I forgot the time,” he apologizes, letting her in.
She stifles a chuckle as she enters.
“I'm going to find some clean clothes. I left the books on my work desk by the window,” he explains as he wanders up the stairs of his converted loft, to his open bedroom.
Ariadne doesn't stay too long as she has an early class in the morning, along with another session in the work shop.
~*~*~*~
Arthur reclines in his chair, two seats away from Eames, yet so very aware of his former lover. He hasn't once glanced at the other man but he can feel the sharp blue-grey eyes watching him. He fights back to urge to return the gaze with his eyebrow arched in a what-are-you-finding-so-fascinating-this-time-Mr-Eames sort of fashion.
Eames hasn't paid this much attention to him since they split.
To say Arthur is confused is a vast understatement. _It's weird_ , he thinks to himself. _You sound so close but it feels like you're so far._ | 65ac79eae984401a91758d935c3063d3 | ['52cc4c4d5b6f4f3eba531ebe5f95186b'] | Steve nodded, guilt shrouding him like a veil, eating away at his insides.
"You're an idiot," Clint told him.
"I know," Steve agreed miserably, not even attempting to defend himself.
"Even I could see that the man of metal has been languishing from unrequited love for months," Thor added helpfully. “And on Asgard, my friends joke of my lack of astuteness.”
"Unrequited love? Wait, what? _Months_?" Steve stared at the other blond.
“We're leaving for the airport soon,” Natasha said.
The non sequitur had him confused for a moment but he realized it was her way of prompting him into action.
“I should probably...go...” Steve uttered, his mind already elsewhere as he stood up and let his feet carry him down to Tony's workshop.
Through the window, Steve could see Tony surrounded by blueprints hanging in the air, running a couple of simulations on a full-scale model of the next Mark.
"JARVIS, is the IDS running?"
"Faster than you, sir."
"Haha, JARVIS. Cute. Now how's the scalability as compared to the Mark VII?"
"Increased by twenty percent, sir."
"Excellent. Now, I just need to adjust the parameters of the sub-routine for..." he rambled, trailing off as he got caught up in his work.
"Captain Rogers is here to see you."
"Tell him I'm busy."
A few seconds later.
"He insists it's important, sir."
"Yes, well, so is building a better suit to save the world. He likes it when the world is safe, right?"
"He's gone, sir."
"Good. I'm glad," Tony said loudly, pretending it didn't hurt, pretending that having Steve go away, give up so readily, was exactly was he wanted.
A few minutes later.
"Sir, Captain Rogers is back..."
"I'm still not letting him in."
"...with Dr. Banner," JARVIS finished.
"Traitor," he muttered, making a note to revoke all of Bruce's access to the 'shop before turning to face the other two men. "Look, you guys, I'm very busy here and I'd like to be alone. Genius at work and all that. You know how it is."
"Don't worry. I have no plans of staying," Bruce said, holding up his hands in surrender.
"I'm still revoking your access," Tony informed him.
"Oh, and everyone's gone out for the time being," he quickly added, eyes darting over to Steve, before he made his escape.
"And I'm cutting off your hot water supply," the industrialist called after him even as the door shut. He turned back, and there was Steve, staring at the ground, not looking awkward. Not at all. Right.
"Tony," Steve began. “I'm sorry about what I said.”
“Apology accepted. You can go now,” Tony said, fixing his gaze on one of the blueprints.
It was a clear dismissal.
“No, please. I have to--”
“No,” Tony interrupted suddenly. “I--I just can't. I can't do this, all right?”
“What do you--”
“I mean, any of this. All of this. I can't. Not with you, not this.”
“But I--”
“I can't do this, all right?” he repeated. “So don't bother.”
“Please, Tony...” Steve trailed off, helplessly.
“You have a mission right now, don't you.”
It wasn't a question.
“Okay, I understand. I'll see you when I return,” Steve said softly, shutting his eyes as he walked away, each step heavier than the last. With each step, his mind was telling him to turn back, to _talk_ to Tony and repair everything. He'd made an error and had tried to apologize but he didn't know how to fix it, how to make it better.
_Sometimes you do something you can't come back from. You make a choice, that split-second decision. You don't know if it's right or wrong, that path you've taken, but it's done. You make a choice, and you have to live with the consequences._
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> There's a reason this fic is called Sabotage... |
8d1b783f5f9d4017bd0e2fd13e543daa | ['52cd5446c55b47df86069e6520809488'] | Alex
You weren’t sure what it was exactly. Maybe it was the wine you had with dinner. Maybe it was because he was away for so long (too long in your opinion). Maybe he just needed to be with you again.
But whatever it was that had Spencer half naked and grinding his hips into yours, you were in too much bliss to care.
Spencer trailed his lips across your jaw and then down your neck, occasionally stopping to suck or bite at your skin. His hands trailing up and down your sides before gripping your waist.
He touch was setting your skin on fire. When he paused his descent down your neck to carefully bite your earlobe, you couldn’t help but moan.
“Alex…” you breathed out.
All too quickly, everything stopped. When you opened your eyes, Spencer was no longer on top of you, but sitting on the bed next to you.
“Who’s Alex?” he asked, his voice breaking. He looked heartbroken with his watery eyes.
You sat up, trying to process what had happened. Spencer took your silence as avoidance.
“Are you cheating on me?” he asked, a little for fire behind his words. He swallowed back his sadness and let his anger come out.
“No!” you exclaimed, snapping out of your thoughts, “Of course not!”
“Then who’s Alex?” he cried back, “Why would you moan his name?”
You sighed before standing up from the bed. You walked over to the drawer set and opened your underwear drawer.
“This is Alex.” you said as you pulled out your vibrator. It wasn’t anything big or fancy, but he got the job done. You had Alex for years, he had outlasted two boyfriends. Hopefully that wouldn’t become three.
Spencer looked down, his cheeks were crimson. This level of intimacy was new for you two. You had never show him your toys before. The fact that you were showing this one to him under these circumstances made it a lot worse.
“When you left on the last case, some things were left unfinished.” you began to explain, “So, I used him to finish them. Then, when you didn’t come back for two weeks, I found that I needed Alex again. And again. And again. And again...”
“I get it.” Spencer cleared his throat.
You set Alex down before sitting on the bed next to Spencer, not close enough to touch him in case he was still angry.
“Are we okay?” you asked quietly, breaking the silence.
Spencer let out a sigh and nodded, “Yeah. On one condition.”
You tilted your head in confusion, “What’s that?”
In the blink of an eye, you were on your back and Spencer was hovering over you, a mischievous smile on his lips.
“Tonight you get rid of Alex and tomorrow, we go buy you another Spencer. To avoid this situation from repeating itself. ” his whispered before crashing his lips onto yours.
‘Well Alex, it’s been a good run.’ you thought before Spencer’s hands and mouth took that ability away again. | 936ab8ccc25d46ed91e3b061fe87e3d2 | ['52cd5446c55b47df86069e6520809488'] | Are You Blushing?
“I just don’t get it Pen.” you sighed as you sat beside your sister in her dungeon of technology.
“What don’t you get?” she spun her chair around to face you.
“How can you spend all day in here? There are no windows and there are screens everywhere!” you exclaimed as you gestured around the two of you.
Penelope took in your frazzled expression and couldn’t help but laugh.
You were interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Enter, if you dare.” you called out.
A young man you hadn’t met before walked in, “Hey Garcia, sorry to interrupt your lunch, but I was wondering- Oh wait You have company.” he stopped mid-sentence upon noticing you.
“Spence, this is my sister, Y/N Garcia. Y/N, Dr. Spencer Reid.” she introduced you two, without looking up from her computer screen.
“H-hi Dr. Reid.” you waved shyly. Internally you were face palming over the fact that you stuutered.
“S-Spencer, please.” he corrected you, a hesitant smile on his lips.
“Spencer…” your face flushed as his name fell from your lips.
He looked like he was about to say more, but the alarm on your watch startled him.
“Shoot! I have to go!” you jumped out of your seat and kissed Penny’s cheek, “Love you, bye.”
You gathered all of your stuff and started out the door frantically.
“Nice meeting you.” Without thinking, you quickly kissed Spencer’s cheek before running out the door.
Spencer stared after you in shock, until Garcia’s laughter caught his attention.
“Spencer Reid, are you blushing?” she grinned.
“What? No. Of course not.” Spencer denied it, his cheeks growing redder in defiance.
“Uh-huh. Sure.” the blonde rolled her eyes, “If it matters, she could do worse than you.”
She winked in his direction, causing Spencer to start spluttering.
~*~*~*~*~
Weeks passed, and Penelope decided that she needed to get you and Spencer together. At work she would have to endure Spencer asking questions about you and at home, you would ask her about him.
It was adorable at first, but now, she needed to get this situation fixed.
“Y/N? Hey, I think I left a file on the kitchen counter. Do you see it? Great. Can you bring it in for me. Awesome! Love you. See you soon. Bye.” Garcia hung up her cell phone before venturing out into the bullpen.
“Hey, Spencer. Can you stay in my office? I’m expecting a delivery there, but I forgot I have an appointment right now.” she asked the disheveled cutie once she stood by his desk.
Spencer gave her a warm smile reserved for his good friends, “Sure thing. Is everything okay?” he asked, concerned about this appointment.
“Just a check-up. It’s fine.” she smiled back.
Spencer nodded and walked to her office, as Garcia smirked and went to hide out in the break room.
~*~*~*~*~
“Penny, I got your- oh.” you walked right into your sister’s office only to be surprised by her attractive coworker spinning in her chair.
He instantly stopped spinning upon seeing you, “Y/N, hey. Hi. Hello.” he nearly fell out of the chair trying to stand up.
“Pen asked me to bring this file in for her.” you held it up, feeling like you had to explain your reasons for being there.
Spencer raised an eyebrow, “That’s strange. We don’t have a case right now.”
He carefully took the folder from you before opening it.
Inside was a sticky note with the name of a local Italian restaurant, his last name, and the time “8pm” written on it.
Spencer stared at the note in confusion before connecting the dots. Summoning all his courage he looked back up at you.
“Y/N, want to go to dinner with me tonight?” he asked.
You looked surprised, obviously wondering where the idea had come from, “Sure. Yes. I would like that.” you nodded quickly, a blush coming to your cheeks.
Spencer blushed as well, but couldn’t hide the wide grin that took over, “How does Italian sound?”
“Italian’s my favorite.” you mirrored his grin.
“I’ll pick you up around 7:30, then.” he closed the file and tucked it under his arm.
“It’s a date.” |
e285273eece74bf4aabe225c2003dec4 | ['52fe99998b4544f69a5d41dc55aa4d4d'] | Loki had once said he’d never let anyone hurt him again. After he and his brothers were finally taken away from his pedophile, rapist father, Loki told himself no one would ever get the chance to hurt him again. After his first boyfriend had broken his heart, Loki said no one would ever hurt him again. After he and Victor had gotten into their first fight Loki had told him he didn’t want him to ever hurt him again. Things didn’t work out the way you wanted them to however and eventually Loki became numb to the pain around him. Maybe it had happened when Victor had hit him, maybe when he’d had sex for a porno for the first time after Victor’s insistence, or maybe after another day of Victor acting cold towards him. Either way, it could be said that Victor had worn him down to no longer expect the world to be nice to him. Loki wondered, after looking at things like that, why he loved Victor. Then he remembered, Victor could be so sweet.
Victor had been out for a while, and although Loki said he’d wait for Victor to get back before cooking up another hit, he couldn’t wait any longer. He was in the middle of sucking up the newly formed brown liquid when a knocking came at the door. Loki stared between the syringe and the door, before sighing and getting up to answer it. Loki regretted his decision instantly when Thanos appeared on the other side.
“Is Victor okay? Or have you buried him alive again?” Loki knew that Thanos was dangerous, and what he said wasn’t wise, but to his surprise Thanos chuckled.
“Victor’s doing a nice cussy job for me uptown, he’ll be fine.” Thanos pushes past Loki into his flat, leaving Loki to simply shut the door behind him. He wishes Thanos would leave. “Looks like I was interrupting,” he says picking up Loki’s needle. Loki’s stomach feels heavy and he has a violent urge to snatch it back, “I told you I didn’t like drug addicts, Loki, so we’ll get rid of this.”
“No!” Loki shouts shooting out his arm towards Thanos. “Please give it back.”
“Do you know why I don’t like addicts, Loki?” Loki shakes his head, but keeps his eyes focused on the syringe. “Because they’re weak. You offer them drugs, and they’ll do anything. That may seem like a positive for me, but say one of my enemies gets ahold of one of said drug addicts that works for me. All they need to do is offer the little liability a hit and they’re singing all my secrets.” Thanos dangles the syringe in front of Loki, who moves closer ready to catch it if Thanos were to let it go.
“Thanos, please,” Loki once again begs. If heroin weren’t so expensive Loki wouldn’t be so concerned, but that’s the only skag they have left in the flat now, other than some Loki left for Victor, and Victor’d be really angry if he used that.
“Tell you what, little drug addict, you do me a favour and I’ll give it back to you.” Loki nods rapidly; still his eyes don’t leave the item of his attraction. “Good, then get down on your knees and be the good little whore I know you can be.” Finally Loki’s eyes snap back up. It’s nothing new, yesterday he filmed a video where he did that, but somehow this is different, and he doesn’t want to do this. Loki rolls his shoulders, he needs his fix.
Loki falls down to his knees; he’ll get this done with quickly. If it’d been Victor, or one of the many men in those videos, he would have dragged it out and teased, but Loki makes quick work of undoing Thanos’ expensive trousers and pulling his cock out and into his mouth. Thanos is a lot bigger than what he’s used to and as he hardens in his mouth, Loki feels like he has to unclick his jaw to fit.
“Stop,” Thanos grunts, pulling Loki’s head off him, “lie back so I can fuck you.” Loki shakes his head, he won’t do that.
“No, I did what you wanted; now please give me my drugs.” Loki pleads looking up at the much larger man.
“Okay,” Thanos grins before stabbing the needle into his neck. Loki gasps in pain before Thanos pushes the smack into his system, and the pain is replaced by pleasure that causes Loki to moan loudly. Loki doesn’t fight back as Thanos pushes him back harshly so he falls onto his back. Loki is too out of it to focus on Thanos removing his pants and opening his legs, and only comes back to himself once Thanos pushes into him with no preparation. Loki screams in pain, and tries to no avail to push Thanos off him. Thanos grumbles angrily before punching Loki in the face. “Be quite, little drug addict, at least pretend you like it, like you do in your pretty videos and I might even give you a present.” Loki tries hard to control his breaths of pain if only because he doesn’t want to get hit again. | f5431fc124d948bc80fddbdf6a997b4b | ['52fe99998b4544f69a5d41dc55aa4d4d'] | Wade’s idea consisted of the Christmas dance, singing, swooning and for Loki’s sanity he’d blocked out the rest. It just so happened that Loki sat next to ‘Wade’s beloved’ in their next double lesson, science. They were sat on tables of threes in alphabetical order as per Miss Rappaccini’s orders. Loki liked her, she was strict and saw the importance in them doing as much work as possible to get the maximum learning achievement. Their science teacher had also complimented Loki on his clothing many times, which definitely helped in gaining Loki’s respect.
Once the task of writing a six marker answer on the job of enzymes had been given out, Loki thought he’d make good on his agreement to Wade and leaned forward to get a good view of Peter on the other side of Harry. As that was their seating plan, Loki Odinson, Harry Osborn, Peter Parker. “I’m supposed to inform you on how amazing Wade is and all the benefits of dating him,” Loki whispered, not trying at all to get the sarcastic tone from his voice.
“What are the benefits?” Harry inquired in Peter’s stead. It beyond annoyed Loki when Harry spoke for Peter like he didn’t have his own voice. It reminded him of Balder.
“I wasn’t informed of the details, but just know that if I really believed that Wade was a great person, I’d be lying so effectively you would consider accepting his proposal right now.” Loki bragged as he finished writing his two page answer on enzymes, not doubt Victor and Reed had more than double that amount. “As you can see though, I am making no such effort. Take that as a hint as to my feelings on Wade’s worthiness for you.” Peter smiled at him, and Loki returned the favour before turning back to the board ahead of them. Loki would be honest and say he liked Peter Parker, but not in a way that he understood Wade’s infatuation for the timid boy. Then again, Loki didn’t even understand the feelings that had recently come for his own-not-crush.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm sorry that my updates are slow, I forget mostly, and I refuse to post every chapter I've written straight away in case I change my mind on something later on and have to go back and fix it. I honestly don't mind you asking for quicker updates, it reminds me I have to update, so thank youu Gege+Qurban ^-^
>
> Also, about the sides of the school thing, I felt the need to put in an explainer about why in total, I have only 71 students featured, though I am in no way including most of them in the story, it makes me feel better knowing they're in the background.
>
> Title quote by Michel de Montaigne
8. The nature of lies is to please. Truth has no concern for anyone's comfort
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Loki interacts with his parents, and who am I kidding nothing happens! :D Enjoy
Loki and his friends didn’t share much, they kept their secrets to themselves and if another was acting weirdly it wasn’t brought to attention unless the person wanted it to. This tacit agreement had always been, and always would be. So when Loki phoned Victor to cover for him, it was unsurprising that Victor didn’t question why, only agreed to assist him when the time came.
So with his cover story all in place, Loki made his way downstairs to where his parents were both reading in silence within the front living room. Odin was sat in the arm chair nearest the door, reading a book on military tactics and his mother was curled up in the furthest corner from his father on their red cushioned sofa to the left of the armchair. Loki could care less about what she was reading and didn’t make any effort to figure out. Loki was forced to sit between the two of them on the opposite side of the sofa as his mother. There wasn’t a favourable option as to who to address his question to, either parent would demand answers or give a straight ‘no’. Loki decided not to pick and instead directed the question out in the open where either of them could decide Loki’s fate.
“I wish to spend the night round Victor’s on Friday,” Loki lied putting on his most pleasing voice he only used when asking for something from his parents.
“Why?” Was his father’s response, so it would seem he was in charge this time. Loki turned to him and smiled sweetly.
“Must there be a reason for me wanting to spend time with my best friend?” Odin only cocked an eyebrow in his direction, wanting Loki to elaborate further. Loki had prepared for this however. “This week is the anniversary of his mother’s death,” and Loki wasn’t lying; it was the reason Victor had been in such a foul mood, and the added effect of Reed Richards had been making it ten times worse, “I seek to comfort him in his time of need. With his father dead too, Victor has no one he can turn to, and with me being his best friend I must take up the responsibility.” Loki knew it was probably disrespectful to use Victor’s dead parents as a weapon against his own living ones, but he knew it’d get results, and it wasn’t like Victor was complaining.
“You have such a sweet heart Loki,” his mother said softly from behind him, and he turned around to smile sadly at her.
“I do what I can for him, even though it feels less than enough,” maybe Loki was pushing it a bit now but as his mother nodded, he knew he’d won, and that’s all that mattered.
“Fine,” Odin agreed, “but Balder will take you there, and will be picking you up at ten o’clock sharp the next morning. No excuses.” |
a6b8757a21ad4d108126bbad58c0a81a | ['5301bc96367e457bb76ba118032acad2'] | Into Egypt
**Author's Note:**
> QOTG: I decided to take all these ideas I have them put them in a short one-shot.
> Here is the first one I hope you enjoy.
> Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or anybody I use for the show.
In ancient Egypt, two kids that look like 8 years old are currently occupied in the kitchen in the palace.
“Atemu that is not how you do it.” Says the older of the Twins Amunet.
“Be quiet you don’t want to wake up every in the palace.”
“Let me mix the ingredients.”
“Okay okay. This is going to be the best birthday surprise yet.”
His sister laughs at the excitement. Their mom birthday is coming and they decided to cook. Even though if they get caught before it's done they will be in trouble. Royalty is not supposed to cook.
Currently, the kitchen is covered in the ‘ingredients’ that they're using to make a cake*. Dishes are scattered everywhere the kitchen looks like a war zone.
_ Crash _
“What’s going on in here?” Their mother walked into the room and start it to laugh.
The two kids were covered in flour and honey. And Lotus* on top of the two kids.
“And how do you get in this mess.” Their mother said will be giggling.
She walked over to the miss mischievous children.
“We just want to make you a cake,” They say at the same time.
After that day was spent cleaning up the kitchen and finishing up the cake.
After the flour war of course. The children and mother ended up laughing on the ground when their father walked in and helped them to clean up.
**Author's Note:**
> QOTG: thanks for reading sorry it’s short. I had this idea in my head for a while and I finally got on paper.
> *I decide to do a cake because I do not know what Egypt do for a birthday.
> * Lotus is a type of flower in Egypt
> If you have any ideas please review and tell me I really appreciate it. See you next time. | 946383efcc334aeaa4fd684cbd1cd218 | ['5301bc96367e457bb76ba118032acad2'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> QOTG: I keep this short simple. This is my second story for the FanFiction story is any spelling mistakes or incorrect wording. Not everybody is perfect now. That’s over Amunet Crystal do this disclaimer, please.
> Amunet Crystal: Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh or anybody I use from the show. Except for my OC.
(3POV)
"Prince Atemu" "Princess Amunet" the servants keep screaming over and over. Why you may ask you looking for the Prince and Princess of Egypt Twins to be exact.
"Did you find them?" Priest Akhenaden hold of the Millennium Eye asked the servants
"We couldn't find Priest Akhenaden." Said the servant well Mahado walks up behind.
"Has anybody seen Mana?" Even though he's only 11 he is smarter than most of the priest.
"You mean she is missing too?" says Priest Akhenaden
"What do you mean she's missing too?"
"The Prince and Princess are missing again had he seen them?"
"I haven't seen them since lunch though they were acting suspiciously."
"This palace is going to fall ap-"Priest Akhenaden gets cut off when they hear a loud scream. Both look at each other and shake their heads before running over where they heard the scream.
0o0o0
In the garden of the palace (3 POV)
The guards were standing around what looks to be the Prince and Princess covered in blood laughing on the ground. Priest Akhenaden and Mahado push everybody out that the way to see what's going on.
"What's going on here?!" Priest Akhenaden and Mahado say at the same time.
The two prince and princess are still laughing on the ground trying to calm down. Well, a shadow tries to sneaks around the palace guards. "Mana come over here!" Mahado said as he looks at the two children rolling on the ground in laughter.
"Yes, master." What looks to be a nine-year-old girl named Mana.
"Mahado no need to be so rude she had nothing to do with it this time around." The Princess tried to say in between giggles.
"Would someone like to explain why you two were covered in blood?" A very un-patient Priest Akhenaden said to his niece and nephew.
"We thought it would be fun to look like we were killed in the garden." Both the twins say that simultaneously while also getting up.
"Mana got us fake blood."
"Then we had her scream to alert the guards."
As the twins are saying this the Pharaoh Ahknemkhanen coming up behind his brother. "I thought you two knew better than to pull a prank when everybody is busy getting ready for the party tonight I'm very disappointed in both of you."
"Sorry father," said the Prince while looking at his feet, his sister, however. "We just wanted something to do you should have seen the faces of the guards when they thought we were dead." While looking like a devil in disguise as an angel.
Their father sighs and says, "Go to your room and get dressed for the party we will talk about this later."
"Yes, father." the twins said and walk away.
"Mahado would you go with them to make sure they don't take any detours. As for everybody else you can go back to what you're doing before."
Everybody went back to what they are doing before. Getting ready for a party. What are you ask it as a party it is the party to announce Prince Atemu becoming the Crown Prince the next ruler to Egypt.
'I'm starting to think Egypt is going to be doomed.' Was the thought running through Priest Akhenaden.
0o0o0
The party (Amunet POV)
The prank me and my brother pulled was the best yet. Right now I'm in the middle of the party for my brother. I'm happy for him becoming the Crown Prince I know he'll do great though he needs more confidence in himself.
While looking around the room I see my brother Atemu surrounded by a bunch of girls. I cannot decide if I want to laugh or rip apart those girls and send them to the shadow realm. (Okay maybe that is to mean.)
I walk to my brother determined to save him (and maybe make fun of he for it). Besides, I was going to get him anyway.
"Atemu father wants us to go to him now he is going to make the announcement," I said while pulling him away from the roaches (girls) looking disappointed.
"Thank you for the save Amunet."
"If you watch your surroundings better than you would have gotten caught by 10-year-old girls."
"Okay, now you're just being mean," He says of his cutest pout ever. Sometimes I wonder if he is ever going to stop looking cute though he'll hit me if I say that. I giggle as response and head towards our father.
"Crystal wait up for me." That's his little nickname for me he called me that because while his eyes are crimson mine are light blue in the sunshine they are like diamonds. though it sometimes annoys me. "Too slow Yami race you there." That is my nickname for him the reason I called back is that he loves the night the moon to be Pacific.
After our race (I won of course) our father got everyone quite to make his announcement that Prince Atemu going to be the Crown Prince. I didn't listen that much into what he was saying
I had this bad feeling that something not good is going to happen today (pretty smart for a 10-year-old don't you think) anyways I looked at each visitor trying to figure out who was giving me this feeling.
Then I come across one person that looked like he does not belong here. It was not the clothes or the hair or even the jewelry he was wearing it was an aura around him it was strange.
Knife, blood, screams. |
fbdb1375a2174c02bb8b558238801fda | ['5319f33049dc4859b6b9787660bcfe17'] | "Got it." I followed Mom to her office. She opened the door.
"Sabrina. Thank you so much."
"No. Thank you. And can I take this disguise off?"
"Not until I get you backstage. Security is tight and this is a surprise."
"Right. Lead the way." As I led her backstage, Jonas stopped me.
"Um, my cousin. Her name's Bridgette. Grant shoved her last minute."
"Ok." We kept going until we entered my dressing room.
"Here you go." I took her wig off and she rushed to the changing room and came back, looking beautiful.
"Well. How do I look?"
"Great. Just perfect!"
"Thanks. I hope your boyfriend will be surprised."
"Oh, don't you worry. He will."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Please Comment
19. Chapter 19: Surprise, Surprise!
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Zach sees Sabrina for the second time. Does Zach have some secrets that Cammie doesn't know about?
I nodded at Bex, who took the mic from Grant. "Ladies and gentlemen, to kick off tonight's event, let's give a rousing Gallagher welcome to...Sabrina Carpenter!!!" Zach's eyes got big.
"Sab...She's here?" I was shocked.
"You know her well?" He looked at me, realizing that I'd heard what he said.
" **Maybe**. What's it to you?"
"You're hiding something from me." Sabrina stepped out, smiling.
"Want to say how happy I am to see Zach again." Zach smiled. "This is for you and your friends, Zach." The music began.
You like New York city in the daytime
I like New York city in the nighttime
You say you like sleeping with the air off
I don't, I need it on
You like the light coming through the windows
I sleep late, so I just keep 'em all closed
You ignore the music on the radio
I don't, I sing-a-long
I don't ask for you to change, baby no no no
And you don't ask for me to change
Tell me how we're not alike
But we work so well and we don't even know why
Funny how the stars crossed right
'Cause we work so well and we don't even know why
You can call it fire and ice
But we work so well and we don't even know why
We don't even know why, no no
We don't even know why, no no no
No no no no
We like it in the daytime
We like it in the end of time
No no no no
We like it in the daytime
We like it in the end of time
Cold outside and you're just in a t-shirt
I have cold blood even in a sweater
You start your night sippin' by the kilo
I don't, I know you know
I don't ask for you to change, baby no no no
And you don't ask for me to change
Tell me how we're not alike
But we work so well and we don't even know why
Funny how the stars crossed right
'Cause we work so well and we don't even know why
You can call it fire and ice
But we work so well and we don't even know why
We don't even know why, no no (no no no)
We don't even know why, no no no
No no no no
We like it in the daytime (we don't even know)
We like it in the end of time (we don't even know)
No no no no We like it in the daytime
(We don't even know, know, know, know, know, know, know, know, know)
Somehow we end up on the same side
And you wouldn't think that we'd be alright
Even our eyes are different colors, but we see fine
Somehow we end up on the same side (up on the same side)
And you wouldn't think that we'd be alright (think that we'd be alright)
Even our eyes are different colors, but we see fine
tell me how we're not alike
But we work so well and we don't even know why ('cause we work so well and we don't even know why, why)
Funny how the stars crossed right 'cause we work so well and we don't even know why
You can call it fire and ice
But we work so well and we don't even know why ('cause we work so well and we don't even know why, why)
We don't even know why, no no
We don't even know why, no no no
No no no no
We like it in the daytime (oh)
We like it in the end of time (we don't even know why)
No no no no
We like it in the daytime
We like it in the nighttime
The crowd cheered, as she left the stage. She took me and Zach to the lounge room. "So, you're probably shocked."
"She's got a right to be."
"I was a target. A guy I dated was working for The Circle. When I left him for the guy I'm with now, he came after me. I asked CIA for the best agent they had to be my guard. They sent Zach."
"And one night at one of her concerts, I killed him."
"And now I'm free."
"Yep." I looked at Sabrina. _Was he going to leave me? Was I going to have to let him go?_ I looked at Zach. _He likes her...not you,_ I thought. "Something wrong, Cam?"
"Me? No. But I think I'm up."
"I'll come with-"
"No." He looked at me. "I mean, I can go by myself." I walked out, closing the door behind me.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Please Comment
20. Chapter 20: Happily Ever After After All
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Cammie reveals her successor. And Sabrina leaves, saying her goodbyes. I really hope liked it!!!!! | 1bda40aed3814871a1fa336e46e3507c | ['5319f33049dc4859b6b9787660bcfe17'] | "Wow! I like that." He moved closer. "I wanted to give you something. Close your eyes." I closed my eyes and an object landed in my hand and Mitchell kissed my cheek. "Goodbye, Cammie." I walked over to Dove, who was looking at me. "Ready to go?"
"Not yet. I'll be there. Go on." She took my hand and we walked up to my balcony room.
"What are we doing up here?"
"To talk. About your boyfriend."
"We don't date."
"Well, he treats you real good. From what I hear and see."
"No. He's just my friend."
"That might not be how he feels."
"How do you know?"
"I leaned that in our movie. I had a choice. I almost made a bad one. You don't have to. It all starts with you." She stood, taking her necklace off. "Here. I want you to have this. Sofia gave it to me when we first met." She said, putting the necklace around my neck. I held it up and looked at it.
"It's a heart." She nodded.
"Right. Keep it. You'll understand why later."
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Hey, there you are." I turned and saw Zach. I turned away. _God! Why doesn't he leave me alone? I think I'm giong to burst._ Tears formed in my eyes He came up behind me, his arms around my waist. "Something wrong?" I pulled away.
"Yes. Us."
"What about us?"
"We...this will never work."
"What won't?"
"Us."
"I don't think I..."
"Listen, Zach. You and me. We will never work out."
"I know. But it's worth it. I can't promise that it'll be easy, though."
"I need some time to think." He touched my cheek.
"You do that."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Please Comment
17. Chapter 17: I'm in love
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> It's time for Cammie to get her crown. Will she have a Prince Charming too?
"Oh my gosh! Cam, you...you look beautiful!" Bex said, smoothing the end of my long, dark red dress. Lizzie was busy checking everything on her list.
"Cam, has he asked you yet?"
"I...no...I mean, not yet..."
"Bex? Lizzie?"
"Yeah?" Bex said, snapping out of her zone.
"Huh?" Lizzie said, looking up from her clipboard.
"Cammie and I need a moment alone." She said, looking at me. They left, closing the door behind them. "Okay. Now talk."
"I told him a few days back that...we wouldn't work...we sort of...clash..." I stepped of the mirror stand, walking to the balcony rail. "God! What's wrong with me, Mace? I want a fairy tale ending...I just...I don't know..."
"I know how you feel. You want Zach, but you are at war with yourself."
"Exactly! How did you know?" She smiled.
"I was there once."
"Really?"
"Yep. And you don't have to do what I almost did."
"What happened?"
"I was about to be crowned, when I saw Preston. He was in the back and he was trying to smile. Then I realized that I could make him smile with one word. One word would rewind everything."
"What was the word?"
"Stop. I said it and the minister looked at me. I looked at the crowd and said, "I'd love to be your Queen, but I can't unless I have someone by my side." Then, I called Preston to the floor and the minister made us a couple. I have never quit loving him."
* * *
I gracefully walked down the aisle as Photograph by Ed Sheeran played. In front of me, Zach was standing there. And he was smiling. When I reached the front, Zach came down to meet me. "You look beautiful."
"You look hot."
"Oh! Well, you really didn't have to go to that extreme." He offered his arm. "May I?"
"Yes, you may." And we walked up the stairs. Once we got to the minister, he smiled.
"Is this the young man you wish to be joined with?"
"Yes, Bishop. It is."
"And is this the young lady **you** wish to be joined with?"
"Yes, Bishop. It is."
"Then in the name of Gillian Gallagher, I now call you a couple." Zach looked at me. "Go on. Kiss her." He leaned in and we kissed. As we kissed, his arms went around my waist and my arms went around his neck. Everyone clapped, as flower petals rained on us. I smiled.
"I love you, Zach. I really do."
"And I love you, Cammie." We walked down the aisle together, arm in arm.
18. Chapter 18: Happily Ever After, Cammie.
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Cammie and her happy ending. She becomes Queen Cammie. Who will she make as her successor, or her princess?
We were dancing to Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran. I was about to be crowned Queen Gallagher and I was also about to crown my successor. But I was too happy with the moment I was in. Zach cleared his throat, knocking me out of my daze. I looked at him. "That's better. How would you like to dance to the garden?" I smiled, gripping my dress.
"I'd love that."
"Let's go." We danced out the doorway and into the garden. "I love you so much." He said, as we stopped at the fountain. We looked up, as a shooting star went by. He smirked. "Time for you to make a wish, Ms. Morgan."
"I already have my wish, Mr. Goode."
"And what would that be?" He asked. I smiled, barely touching my lips to his.
"You." I whispered. He grinned. "And just because we come from different groups doesn't mean we are different. I mean, we're still-" He cut me off, by pressing his lips to mine. As we kissed again, I lifted my foot up and the handle on the machine went up and the fountain glowed. He smiled, leaning in.
* * *
"So, you ready?" Lizzie asked. Mom came up.
"She's in my office."
"I'm going. Lizzie, cover me." |
2fdcefcf670d4fac8bd407451ba62a46 | ['53228fdc90a948899d5102c3a1768a62'] |
Recovery Two
South waited a good 20 minutes after The Meta left before she dared step out of the shadows she had used for cover. She made her way over to the body it had left behind. She knew eventually she would be ordered to deal with The Meta herself. She was a Recovery Agent, after all. However, unlike most agents whose job it was to clean up the mess after a Freelancer Agent had died, it was South’s job to deal with agents that had gone rogue, or otherwise presented a threat to the Project. Yes, she would have to deal with The Meta, who posed a great threat to the Project, eventually, but until the time those orders came down, she was perfectly fine simply watching it and letting it do her dirty work for her.
She had spent the past several weeks gaining North’s trust again. It hadn’t been very difficult. He had wanted to believe in her and that had been easy enough to exploit. Her original plan had been to simply shoot him in the back and take that goddamn annoying child of an A.I. However, she found that to be easier said than done. It infuriated her that when she finally had her chance, she couldn’t shoot him herself. Also, the more she thought about being stuck with Theta, the more irritated she became. When she learned that The Meta was in the area, she seized the opportunity. South was nothing if not opportunistic.
She looked down at the body at her feet. She had expected to feel some kind of sadness now that her twin brother was dead, but instead she felt nothing at all. Not really. North had ceased to be her brother a long time ago. Now he was now simply a man in her brother’s armor, and she had no attachment to that. She toed the body slightly and wondered if in the end North had realized that she had set him up. She really couldn’t stand hearing him call for her, call for help, so she had switched off her com and watched from her hiding spot. It had all been over in a matter of minutes.
She squatted down by the body and booted up the armor’s systems and had it run a user analysis. Just as she expected, there were no vital signs. The user was dead. She put two fingers to the side of her helmet to activate the communications link.
“This is Recovery Two to Command.”
Her contact at Command answered almost instantly, as though she had been waiting this call. “Go ahead, Recovery Two.”
“Mission complete,” South reported. “Sending logs now.”
There was a pause as the logs were sent and received. “Good work, Recovery Two.” There was another momentary pause before Command continued, “we have another job for you.”
Work was the last thing on South’s mind. “I was told after I completed this mission, I’d be given my own A.I.”
“You were supposed to recover Agent North Dakota’s A.I. unit.” Command responded simply. “But, according to your log, you failed to do that.”
South practically growled into the link, “we had a deal.”
“I know all about your ‘deal’,” Command answered her as though her own patience was wearing thin. “If you are successful with this next assignment, you’ll get what you want.”
“Really.” South wasn’t convinced. Project Freelancer was a dying entity. Everything had gone to shit the day Carolina died. No. Really it had started before then, but that was the event that South could point to and say it had really started. With The Meta now running around causing problems it was only a matter of time before the UNSC sat up and took notice. The Director was making sure as many loose ends as possible were tied up before that happened. That was what South was being used for – and she was being used - and she had no doubt that eventually she herself would be one of those loose ends that needed to be tied. With any luck, she would be gone long before then. There was just something she _had_ to get first.
“Look, do you want this or not?”
South sighed. “Yeah, whatever. Go ahead.”
“Another Recovery Agent – Recovery One – has become a liability.”
“Recovery One,” South repeated.
“I’m sending you the mission details now,” Command said and a moment later the onboard computer in South’s armor was decrypting the files it had received. South’s HUD loaded those details, including a dossier for Recovery One. There was no indication as to how this agent had become a liability, but South forgot about that the moment she saw the agent’s name.
“Agent Washington? Recovery One is Wash?”
“Yes-“
“I thought he was decommissioned.”
The hint of thin patience was back in Command’s voice when she answered. “He was. However, his experience with his A.I. unit made him something of an asset.”
Oh, South knew all about Wash’s “experience” with his A.I. That experience – that breakdown – was the whole reason South had never gotten her own A.I. An A.I she had worked very hard to get for reasons she could no longer remember. It had been Wash’s fault that part of the Program had been shut down and the reason why South was doing what she was doing now. The reason why she had agreed to turn on her own brother.
“Recovery Two?” Command cut into her thoughts. “South.”
“I’m listening.” South answered finally, realizing that Command had been speaking to her while she’d been lost in her own thoughts. She turned her attention back to the dossier, which included the psych evaluation that had been used to clear Wash for duty, a profile that predicted how he would act in certain situations and a mission log that detailed his last several assignments.
“Is this going to be a problem?” Command asked carefully. “You worked with Agent Washington once.”
South almost laughed right out loud, but bit it back before it could escape her mouth. Yeah, she and Wash had worked together. They’d been part of the same team, after all. However, that didn’t mean they’d been friends. Far from it, in fact. Her lips pulled back into a smile when she saw that during his last assignment Wash had recovered Delta from York and that he had not yet returned the A.I. unit to Command. This was the opportunity she had been biding her time for.
“No,” she answered. “No problem at all.”
“As you can see, Recovery One is on his way to your location now,” Command went on. “He will be set to rendezvous with you in a few hours. As far as he knows you went AWOL with North. We would prefer it if he didn’t find out you’re a recovery agent.”
“Understood.”
“Good luck, Recovery Two.”
When the link ended, South stood up. She looked down at the purple armor at her feet. She was finally getting what she wanted. She didn’t mind that she had to kill for it. She just wished she could remember why she had wanted it in the first place. | 2d966414f1874607a169a3665d8dd8a2 | ['53228fdc90a948899d5102c3a1768a62'] |
Whatever Happened to Sister?
Kaikaina Grif sat on top of Blue Base, her chin in her hands, and stared across the canyon. She didn’t know how long ago it was that her brother and the others had all left her. She had kept track of the days at first, thinking that eventually Dexter would come back, or hoping maybe she’d be reassigned to wherever it was he had gone to. The days came and went. The sun continuously hung in the sky and the only way to know for sure when 24 hours had passed was the notification she got from her helmet’s HUD.
She passed the time in her way. Her mornings started whenever she damn well pleased. It wasn’t as though there was anyone else there to call muster. She would wander the base half-dressed for a little bit before checking to see if anyone – Command, the other Blues…Dexter - had attempted to contact her. The answer was always no. Then, once she’d eaten something and had a couple cups of coffee, she put on her armor and meandered up to the cliffs. Sarge was always up at a god awful hour and was usually outside Red Base by the time she got there. Sometimes he was working on the Jeep, sometimes he was building something, and sometimes he was laying some kind of trap that was disguised only by its obviousness. Kaikaina would watch him a couple of minutes before she would start yelling at him. He would stop whatever it was he was doing and yell back at her. Trading insults back and forth had become their morning ritual. She called him disgusting and old and he would call her a dirty Blue hussy. When that got old, Kaikaina came down from the cliffs and went back to her base. Her afternoons were spent either sunning herself on the base’s roof or skinny dipping in the pools in the caves. It never once occurred to her that an enemy was near and by removing her armor, she exposed herself to a potentially very deadly attack. Why would it? The most violent thing Sarge had done since the others had left was call her names. She had been in more hostile environments in high school.
Kaikaina’s evenings were spent turning Blue Base into the ultimate party scene and she partied her nights away. Sometimes someone passing through the canyon stopped in and joined her (after paying a nominal entrance fee, of course), but most of the time, Kaikaina partied by herself. This was her life now. It was her routine. It wasn’t at all what she expected army life to be. Her helmet’s HUD kept reminding her of how many days had gone by since Dexter had left, since he had cautioned her to be careful and that she’d be alright as long as she stayed in the canyon. The display read 63 days when she finally shut it off.
After that, she had no idea how many days went by. They all seemed the same to her. Her daily routine of yelling at Sarge and skinny dipping was the only thing that separated one day from the next, so she followed it carefully. A supply transport stopped every couple of weeks confirming for her that time was indeed passing. The ship flew overhead and dropped a crate of supplies. It never stopped, never attempted to communicate, but its presence was a welcomed. It assured Kaikaina that someone somewhere was aware of her existence here.
Then that fucking cop showed up. Kaikaina didn’t know exactly what it was that he wanted or what he had talked to Sarge about, but his very presence in her canyon had set her on edge. She was pleased when he left, although her unease didn’t quite leave with him. It wasn’t very long after that Sarge left too. Kaikaina had no idea where he went or why. He just wasn’t there one morning to trade their daily insults. Kaikaina stood on the cliffs alone yelling at Red Base. She hoped he was just inside. Maybe he’d gotten a late start that morning. If she stood there long enough and yelled loud enough he’d eventually come out, call her a dirty Blue hussy and everything would be ok. Everything would be as it should. She wouldn’t be all alone in this god forsaken place.
Someone did eventually come out of the base, but it wasn’t Sarge. Instead it was the Red’s robot, Lopez. It didn’t yell back at her, instead it stood just outside the base and looked up at her with the sun glinted off its gold visor.
“Where’s the old man?” Kaikaina demanded.
“Que se ha ido” Lopez responded in its usual monotone.
“Gone?” Kaikaina repeated.
“Where the fuck did he go?”
“No se,” Lopez answered and despite its deadpan unemotional tone, Kaikaina thought she caught a hint of relief.
“He can’t be gone!” She yelled. “I can’t be here all by myself! What the fuck am I supposed to do now?!”
“No se,” Lopez repeated and this time Kaikaina thought she caught a hint of not-caring in Lopez’s monotone. Then, without another word, it went back inside the base. |
639977a08e884c4db078593d56ebee50 | ['5329fe9a90f2430691ecd6db4061ae53'] | “How about we begin with the small stuff? Ok, I’ll go first... Was it only me or am I the only one that would have never in a million years though that Juleka akumatised form would be so... pink?”
A good and safe subject to begin with. It was common a game now to imagine what someone would look like akumatised. It earned him a variety of responses: “Oh I know, right!?”, “I would have bet that she would be a vampire or something”, “What was Hawk Moth thinking? My eyes bleed just looking at it.”, “Urg...” “With all the clown design villains, there is 65% chance that Hawk Moth work or worked with a circus.”
Nino kept the boulder rolling, “And the hair! I saw someone hit their head on a wall and it did not even bend!”
“It was like wearing a helmet fused to your head.” Explained Ivan.
“And those shoes were a crime”, added Adrien. “It was impossible to walk in it! I almost broke my ankle twice!” This was true, especially if you tried to fight a super villain in them but the other could not get to know about that. At least that peculiar Akuna attack left him with a good alibi for his absence. It was impossible to tell who was who in the crowd of transformed people.
“The make up was so stiff”, took on Nathaniel. “I mean, yuck, it was like having plaster glued to your face.”
“That wasn’t make-up”, denied Adrien. “I wear make-up for the photos shoot and make-up don’t feel like that at all.”
“I can’t believe I got stuck in a dress”, groaned Kim. “Alix keep teasing me about it! She was wearing one too!” Well, Alix was teasing all the boy about that one...
“The thong was really riding up!” Exclaimed Max.
The conversation could not have died any faster than with a shotgun blast in its head. Oooooh boy, if he didn’t save it, he would not get another chance like today any sooner, if ever. He needed to say something, but sadly Nino felt absolutely out of his dept here! He was a DJ, not a psychologist and …!!! You could practically see the light bulb appear above his head. He just had to take examples on his own therapist. Quick, what would Doc Maillou say?
“Err, that interesting… Wait! NO! I meant, that progress here, could you elaborate arrgh, no what I meant to say… I…” Nino hid his face behind his hands. That guy made it look so easy and would personally apologise to him next session. Ok forget the psy-talk. He needed to relate with them.
“What I meant was… How was it? Being a girl I meant?” No one dared meet the eyes of the other again. Oh well, time to throw someone under the bus. It was going to cost him so major Bro points… “Adrien, let’s begin with you. And please be honest.”
Adrien shot a look of utter betrayal at his NOT best friend right now. And for a moment Nino thought he wasn’t going to do it but Adrien gave up the deer in the headlight look for a more resigned one. He knew he could count on him, because if Adrien could help someone he would do it even at his own detriment. The guy was like a frigging paladin.
“It was… strange and weird at first. I wasn’t at the right height and I kind of felt light and the weight was distributed all wrong. But after a while, I mean, after the first shock… I don’t know, I felt like it was normal. I mean, it must be because of the magic but it was like I had this body all my life. Was it like that for you g… Nath?” Adrien took a page from Nino book and threw the hot potato to someone else.
And everyone attention shifted to the redhead. “I, err, yes? Maybe? I don’t know… I guess… I wasn’t really preoccupied by that. And you Ivan!?” This was quickly turning to a game of Pass the Unpinned Grenade.
“Me? Euh… Mostly like that. I was just mostly scared I was going to pass the rest of my life as a girl you know? Didn’t really think about anything else. I mean it don’t bother me now, but I was pretty worried then. And well... there is one thing… You guy remarked how the girls in the schools all have that smirk on their face when they look at you? Like they all know some joke we don’t? I swear it worse with Mylène.”
“Oh, I know exactly what you mean”, replied Max. “From my survey, the entire population of the boys who were changed are now experiencing an increase of giggling by group of girl in their proximity by 44%.” That earned a manly sympathising groan from the group. It was already impossible to know what girls thought of them in normal circumstances and now it was like they were all onboard the same joke they were not privy to.
Adrien thought about how his Lady kept making jabs at his look. He took it with good humour then and he didn’t see why they couldn’t laugh about it now. “I think Miss Bustier is doing it too… Ha. Hehehe *snikers*. Its pretty funny now that I think about it. I mean it so ridiculous.” His laugh was infectious and soon they were all chuckling at the absurdity of the situation. All but Kim who looked dejected.
His neighbour Max did not see that and motivated by the success his last statistic brought he brought another one to the front: “And over 80% of those cupped a feel! Ha!” Light Atmosphere and Pleasant Conversation; please meet my old friend the Grim Reaper… | 4944fc99274d4ee5806aa693ad5f80f1 | ['5329fe9a90f2430691ecd6db4061ae53'] | Mouth hanging off its hinges, his face became ashen white and if Kim eyes could have opened any wider they would have fallen off. He was looking at Adrien like a bunny stuck in the middle of the highway looked at the incoming traffic. The horror stricken boy let out a “How?” in a strangled gasp.
A look of realisation dawned onto the rest of the assembly. And Adrien felt compelled to answer: “Because, I felt it too. Well, a little.” The other gave the same look at Adrien too. That looked like a big can of worm just got opened up. It took balls to admit that and Nino wasn’t sure were THAT fall into the bro-code. He would have to figure it out later because Adrien confession did the trick, Kim deflated like a balloon.
“Is that it? You feel embarrassed because you liked it?” asked Nino.
“Yes, no, it’s... It’s not just that. I... can I trust you guys? I not really comfortable to admit some things... yet... but if you promise to not talk about it...”
All of them swore on their honours that they would never talk to a soul about what they were about to ear.
Kim looked out the windows to gather his thoughts. “After St-Valentine day and I got rejected by Chloe I was really depressed for a while and some others thing happened too. They made me question...” he paused but not for effects. The big and braggart Kim looked scarred. He took on last breath and expulsed what he had on his chest “I thought I was gay.”
Mister Awkward Silence had built a house by now. He has married Miss Drop A. Bomb and had three children, the twins Astonishment and Disbelief with the little Flabbergasted soon afterward.
And before they could say anything Kim continued: “And what happened with the Akuma helped determine some others things too. A lot of things. It pretty much confirmed that I am Bi.”
“I...” Nino wasn’t sure how to respond to that and was caught completely flatfooted.
Adrien to the rescue: “Wow Kim, that must have taken a lot of courage to admit. But did you think we wouldn’t accept you and that why you didn’t want to talk about it?” That guy was a Saint and Nino had never been so proud of his friend right now. All the other gave Kim their encouragement and acceptance. God Nino loved his class.
For Kim, it was like a huge weight was lifted off his shoulder. “No. Maybe. I don’t know. But thank guys; I was able to say it because it’s you. I am not ready to... come out yet, you understand?” Again, everybody promised to not tell anyone. But even thought that secret was now in the open between them, Kim still had a look of guilt hanging around him.
Nino had to ask: “But Kim, I get that you must have mixed feeling about the whole thing but why can’t you approach Juleka. Do you blame her for this?”
“What?! No!”
“Then is it because you think she wouldn’t approve? I don’t think she suspects something and I can’t believe she wouldn’t be behind you a 100% about this.”
Kim elbow rested on his desk and his face in the palm of his hands. “*groan* That’s not it.”
“Then what?”
“It’s how I figured it all out!”
“How you figure... What? Come again?”
“Look, I wasn’t... I freaked out a when it happened but then I realised it could be an opportunity so I...” he moved his arm about like he cloud send signal rather than words. Not working, he resumed talking: “Maybe I was actually going crazy because I *ark* I... I’ve gone to find that final year guy I found cute and managed to convince him that I was... but then... We did... stuff. God I wasn’t thinking straight.” He said, not making much sense, trying to convince someone, probably himself.
“Of course you did not think straight, you did say you were Bi.” Max tried to joke.
And Max strike again, third time the charm, batter out. Nino was having a little mental break down ‘MAAAAXXXX!’ The others physically flinched at his bad joke. At least Max had the decency to look uncomfortable under the glares. “Too soon?”
The gang looked... The gang looked... it was like a train wreck, you want to look away but you just can’t stop looking.
“Stuff?” Nathaniel asked for clarification with a really small voice, not sure he wanted too. “What do you mean by “Stuff”?”
“I mean ‘stuff’...” Kim looked ready to die of embarrassment.
Adrien was kind of fascinated: “Stuff or ‘the’ STUFF stuff?”
Kim: “Well not the STUFF STUFF, but more like ‘stuff’ stuff.”
Ivan full of morbid curiosity: “Err, good or bad stuff? You’re not clear.”
Kim: “It wasn’t good or bad, it was just... Stuff! Come on guys, can we drop it?”
Nino: ”But it’s the kind of stuff you can feel guilty using Juleka body to do?”
Kim wanted to cry :”...Yes.” Insight 20/20 and all that.
Nino was massaging his temple “We can’t be thinking about... ‘stuff’! We need to.... to...”
Nathaniel full of sarcasm: “No, we need to ask ‘Who’, ‘Where do we hide the body’ and...”
Juleka: “Was he any good?"
Nathaniel :”and ‘Was he any g...”
Adrien: “...”
Nino: “...”
Ivan: “...”
Max: “...”
Kim: “...”
All together: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” They all jumped from their seat and away from their classmate who seemingly appeared from thin air. That was heart attack... stuff.
“Ju-Ju-Ju-Ju-Juleka!” said Nino with difficulties.
“Yes that is my name.” Said the much talked about girl, in an even tone. She looked almost bored and was still in her gym cloth.
“Why, why are you here and sin-since when did you come back?”, asked Nino a ‘little’ panicked. |
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