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52c351ca1d88401fa675e266b76c9b01 | ['5351e81f6b8b427995a5c611eeff6157'] | Yuri!!! on Spice(y memes)
**Author's Note:**
> I made a shitpost at 1 AM and quickly realized that it'd only take a little bit of tweaking and fleshing out to make into a YOI crack fic, so I did it because of who I am as a person.
>
> The post in question: http://USER.tumblr.com/post/177086454313/me-as-a-world-famous-figure-skater
Yuri’s family excitedly gathers around the TV to watch him compete. They have no idea what they are in store for. They had never seen his free and he had even kept the concept a secret. It’s currently a commercial break, but soon the competition coverage is back on. Yuri steps on the ice and says a few final words to Victor. The camera zooms in on his face, highlighting his perfectly slicked back hair and the rhinestones encrusting his all black costume. One of the TV commentators begins speaking.
“Notice the dark and almost overbearing design of his costume.”
Yuri’s name is announced and he starts skating to his starting pose. The camera pans out to an overhead shot tracking his motion, and the other commentator cuts in. “Yes, Johnny, he said in a recent interview that this past year has been one of the roughest in his life. Because of this he decided to do a free skate that represents and reflects on his experiences,” he stops in the center of the rink and crumples into a pose of pure despair, “so here is the debut of the program he calls ‘this is so sad’.”
The opening notes of Despacito starts playing and Yuri perks up, turns around once, and does a body roll.
“Uh…” The older commentator remarks.
The younger commentator starts laughing. Yuri gathers a bunch of speed and does a series of 3-turns into a flying camel spin. The commentator keeps laughing. He can’t stop. The older commentator asks him if he’s okay. All that can be heard is the sound of a headset being taken off and put on the table. This causes Mari, who had been suppressing laughter the whole time, to bust out laughing. Yuri’s parents just stare at the screen in complete shock.
He continues his rowdy, flirty program incorporating elements from hip hop and salsa dance. The next 4 minutes pass without a peep from the commentators or Yuri’s parents despite him landing 5 quads, including a quad flip. He reaches the end of his program and strikes a slightly suggestive pose. The audience starts cheering. People rise to their feet and pelt him with stuffed animals. He starts smiling and then takes his bows before skating off to the kiss and cry.
Victor greets Yuri at the kiss and cry by lovingly tackling him to the ground and kissing him. There is complete silence from his parents the commentators as this happens. They are too in shock from what they had previously witnessed to process or comment on what just happened. Neither party acknowledges the announcer as Yuri sets a personal high score and lands in second place with only two more to skate. Yuri’s dad finally breaks the silence.
“Well that was… interesting.”
His parents never ask him about his free skate. They just assume that Despacito managed to hurt him. They are too afraid to find out how.
**Author's Note:**
> For anyone wondering, yes one of the commentators in question was Johnny Weir. I know he loves the anime and also I wanted some representation for us clockwise skaters. | e4892606af234cac9b7ec533daedb3e9 | ['5351e81f6b8b427995a5c611eeff6157'] |
1. Reunited
**Author's Note:**
> Let me preface this by saying I haven’t written a fic in like 3 years because I had the brilliant idea of graduating high school early and becoming a math major which consumed my fucking life.
>
> Inspired by http://kisekiryo.tumblr.com/post/173562012526/more-i-hate-thanos
When he opened his eyes, his first thought was _Steve._ As the world slowly came into focus, he became very aware he had no sense of how much time had passed. _How many months have passed? Years? What have I missed? Is Steve okay?_ His thoughts raced until he saw Shuri step towards him. She did not look a day older than when he went under. _Couldn’t have been that long,_ he thought.
“Sgt. Barnes, sorry to keep you waiting, but we can now start dealing with what Hydra did to you.” Shuri said, with a slight smile.
“How long was I under?” he asked, completely unsure of what the answer could possibly be.
“Two weeks.”
“Two weeks.” he echoed in disbelief.
“Yes,” Shuri continued, “we had some family drama last week – a cousin we didn’t know we had who dressed like a character from an anime.”
Unable to process 60% of what she told him, and unable to make heads or tails of the other 40%, he just stared at her.
* * *
At first, he didn’t know how to feel about being put to work in that field. It was at least something to pass the time, but it seemed too mundane. After the past 100 years, the sporadicity and intensity of it all left him with a certain expectation of life. Was he to accept that this is what life was going to look like from now on? Was moving bales of hay all he could contribute to society? Or is that too much even? How could he be certain that Shuri’s reprogramming was a permanent fix? Perhaps he would always be a time bomb.
As time passed, he was given more information about the state of the outside world, small glimmers of insight into where Steve is and when he might rejoin him. He never asked them specifically when he could see Steve, he knew the answer would be vague enough to not ease the longing. All he could do is accept his situation, take care of himself, and walk slowly down the path of recovery. A path that needed to be taken a long time ago.
Months passed and he had come to terms with not seeing Steve any time soon. He was comfortable with the circumstances. Then one afternoon while he was moving hay, Okoye showed up and pulled him aside, telling him he should get cleaned up. He asked her what this was about, but she just dragged him off to the nearest bath. When he emerged looking like a new man, he noticed a figure standing across the field from him with their back towards him. Before he could question who it was, the figure turned around. _Ste-_
“Bucky!”
He was here. _How is he here? Why is he here?_ Before Bucky could think further, he was sprinting to the arms of his old friend. Steve started walking and then slightly running towards him. They met with an embrace to make up for the past 70 something years, pulling each other closer to bridge the distance that time had created. The yearning they both had felt for each other had been put to ease but somehow elevated to new heights and the two men were brought to tears as the sun set behind them. Bucky pulled his head up and pressed his cheek against Steve’s. It was warm. Both of their faces were warm. He closed his eyes so all he could sense was the feeling of their bodies pressed together. When Bucky opened his eyes, the sun had sunk even further down the horizon. The time had slipped away from him, but unlike being in cryo, he knew exactly what was happening. He put his hand on the back of Steve’s head and moved so their noses were touching. Looking into his eyes, he saw the skinny little kid from Brooklyn he met all those years ago.
For the first time since then, he felt like he was where he was supposed to be. And for the first time since they got extremely drunk before his deployment, he felt an overwhelming urge to do something he could normally keep under wraps. Bucky broke eye contact for a fraction of a second and glanced down at Steve’s mouth. He began to lean his head in but hesitated only to find Steve’s lips meeting his own. Though it had only been that one time, he had remembered the sensation vividly. The texture of Steve’s lips. The pressure they put on his own. The desire for more when those lips were pulled away.
“Bucky, I—”
He cut Steve off and went back for more. He had so much he wanted to say, but he couldn’t summon the words. All he could do was express his emotions through physical acts. He let his hand slide down Steve’s body, feeling his neck, the musculature of his back, and finally arriving at his ass. He had wanted to do that as long as he had known Steve, but especially since the serum had made it so… defined. He gave it a slight squeeze, and soon found himself being pulled closer to Steve. Their hips pressed together as the last shred of sunlight disappeared. As Bucky felt their bodies closer than ever before, he noticed himself becoming aroused. He noticed both of them becoming aroused. It soon became unbearable, and he pulled away.
“Not here.” he softly said. |
fba1582e75df44199b30131b3ced88ec | ['535292207c6c4950a618e0c4ff406ead'] |
Broken Windows
Sana had just got off work, and she was planning on spending the rest of the day watching Netflix. She had settled herself comfortably on her Queen-sized bed with her Shiba Inu, Yuki, pressed close to her.
Her phone buzzed with the sound of a notification, she picked it up and read it.
EMERGENCY WARNING: DANGER FROM MRC, REMAIN INDOORS AND DO NOT ANSWER DOORS.
MRC, otherwise known as Myoui Research Center, was the top science facility in Asia. Specializing in research in potential extraterrestrials and animals. The facility was highly guarded, Sana would know, even on her commute to the coffee shop downtown the guard towers could be seen peeking over houses.
She frowned, wondering what it meant. Maybe it was just a trick of a hacker who wanted to scare people, it hadn’t been the first time. She shrugged and moved to turn on the TV so she could continue her fervent binge of Gilmore Girls.
A loud crash of glass echoed from inside her apartment, she muted the TV. Sana pressed her hands around Yuki’s muzzle as not to alert the intruder. Her hands shook as she felt Yuki snarl his teeth. The Shiba wasn’t a violent dog, in fact, this was the first time he had ever snarled at all in her five years of having the dog. She pressed her stomach to the bed to lay parallel to the dog and stare into the cracked open door. “We’ll be okay,” Sana whispered to herself.
Her mouth was left hanging open when she heard footsteps tapping against the hard-wood of her kitchen, meaning that they had left the living room. Sana picked up Yuki and placed him carefully inside her closet before shutting the door. If there was an intruder, she didn’t want her precious dog to get caught in the middle of potential danger.
She slipped inside the living room and saw that her window had been broken into, and the wall around it had scratch marks. Sana began walking when she felt hands on her shoulders, she opened her mouth to scream but a hand pressed against her mouth.
She was spun around to face the intruder, and she wanted to scream even more. Their facial features were mostly human, but scales speckled across their forehead and cheekbones. Horns started at their temples and followed their scalp backward. The hand that had a pointer finger held to their luscious full lips had no nails, but instead had a red luster and pointed into a claw. “Don’t say anything.” She said lowly, their voice was husky but at the same time melodic.
Sana whispered fervently, “Well I will anyway! Who the hell are you?!”
The creature blinked a few times before removing their hand from their shoulder. “The escapee from MRC.” She said it plainly as if it wasn’t a huge deal and as if Sana wasn’t two seconds away from peeing herself.
“And you chose my apartment to crash into?”
“I liked the color”
“IT’S GRAY.”
“Exactly,” She dismissed, beginning to wander towards Sana’s bedroom. “You see, I was never meant to get caught in MRC. But some fucking hunters caught me when I was weak and... yeah got me.” Sana couldn’t see her expression since her back was facing her, but she could hear the sadness in her eyes.
“What are you?”
“I’m... a... uh...” the creature purses their lips before answering. “Demon? Yeah, that. Named Jihyo, nice to meet you.”
Jihyo opened the closet to be greeted by Yuki how bounced up happily causing the demon to scream. “WHAT IS THIS CREATURE.” She jumped away and scrambled onto Sana’s bed like a cat. “BANISH HIM IMMEDIATELY.” The demon pointed a shaky finger towards the dog how had a happily confused expression.
Sana picked up the dog and frowned, “This is Yuki, he’s my best friend.”
Jihyo frowned, “So your male friend was turned into a canine?”
Sana laughed, and Jihyo’s cheeks reddened slightly from how cute it was. “No! He’s always been my buddy as a dog!”
Jihyo mumbled, “I knew you humans were strange but I never thought this level.” She frowned, her eyebrows furrowing cutely and she rubbed the spot underneath her horns.
“I’m Minatozaki Sana, I forgot to tell you earlier.”
Jihyo slid off the bed, keeping a safe distance from the dog. “Minatozaki, please be my companion while I am trapped here. I beg of you.” She bowed a full ninety degrees, but Sana could see her eyes peeking hopefully at her from the bow.
“As long as you don’t break any more windows.”
“Why?”
“Expensive”
Jihyo's expression brightened, “If you assist me here when you die we can have plenty of money when you die and go to Hell!”
“I'M GOING TO HELL?”
Jihyo frowned, “it isn’t that bad, you’d have me.”
Sana sighed and rubbed her head, she would have to get used to harboring a demon. “Okay, how long will you be staying here?”
“However long you’d like me to.” The demon batted their eyes cutely at Sana who just have an annoyed expression in return.
“Fine, tomorrow will you come with me to coffee with some of my friends!”
Jihyo nodded, “I will provide you with protection to the best of my ability!”
Sana looked over her appearance, unsure of how to cover it up. “Is there any way you can look more human?”
Jihyo snapped her... claws? and with a puff of smoke, her scales and claws had turned into human features, the only thing that remained was the horns which now only poked slightly out from the temples. “The horns don’t go away, I just regrew them!”
Sana didn’t pry but just smiled at the demon, “Okay, Okay. Well, it’s already night so I think I’m going to go to sleep.”
Jihyo tilted her head, reminding Sana of Yuki. “Where will my sleeping quarters be?”
Sana glanced around, just imagining Jihyo in her bed made her face go red so she stuttered. “Uhh, the living room, yeah...yeah.”
The demon nodded and exited the room, “I look forward to the coffee drinking with your friends tomorrow, Minatozaki!”
Sana smiled and grabbed Yuki’s face and smushed his cheeks, “What do you think Momo and Mina will say?” | 79a0a302ec954c7aac5492a6d2db38cb | ['535292207c6c4950a618e0c4ff406ead'] | Then Joy’s unbeating heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. She felt her hands tingle and begin fading into a translucent nothingness before her eyes. Wendy looked over, her eyes widened in horror. She dived and grabbed onto their torso. Trying to anchor them in reality. “Shit- No. I just- _ fuck. _ I don’t want you to leave.”
Joy opened her mouth, but no noise could come out. _ Wendy, I love you. Thank you for making me feel wanted. _ Maybe she was supposed to feel peace in this moment, for achieving what she had missed while she was living. Maybe she was supposed to eagerly walk into the light that she could see shining through Wendy’s hair.
Wendy stared at them, the younger’s arms had faded, and her legs were beginning to leave reality as well. Wendy’s hands slipped through their torso, falling through their now untouchable body. So close to leaving her completely. She whimpered out. “Joy, _ please _ . I never even knew your real name. I don’t want you to leave.” The person who had kept her happiness anchored, and tugged her unknowingly out of the dark clouds of depression was disappearing into smoke.
“Joy. Please. Stop going. I don’t want another person to leave me.” Wendy sobbed out, staring up at Joy’s eyes that had stopped showing expression. Joy’s eyes snapped shut, so close to fading all the way. “My name’s Son Seungwan, I wish I had known you when you were alive.” She whimpered, six years ago she too had been in high school. What if they were at the same high school, and Joy had slipped between her fingers.
Wendy never would hear it but Joy was trying to speak the entire time.
“ _ My name’s Park Sooyoung, Wendy. Weren’t you that person who was in all those theater clubs? I remember you signing up for talent shows, I would’ve loved to hear your voice but I died before the talent show. Did my name show up on the announcements? Mourning my death? Wendy? Please don’t be sad” _
_ “Please don’t be sad, Seungwan.” _
That was the last thought she had before she faded, the cries of a saddened real estate agent were silenced. Joy opened her eyes to find herself kneeling before a cloudy gate. Meeting an angel’s eyes to see a saddened expression looking back at her.
Joy cried out. “Send me back, _ please. _ I- I need to make things right. I don’t want Wendy to be lonely.” She watched as the ethereal being approached her. She closed her eyes as they leaned down to them.
A pair of lips pressed to her forehead. -And she prayed that upon opening her eyes she would find herself in Wendy’s warm embrace.
Joy’s vision went dark.
**Author's Note:**
> This will be played out differently from the original with the same premise. The slow burn will be extremely painful for both me, the author, and you, the reader. Please let me know your thoughts |
be5c6bff9ae540ef9fbde3adf4ac156c | ['53545fee37824b6488409a75282bde3c'] | “Nope! I was just exploring, looking for something to do. Everyone else is busy and paired off, and it was boring just watching them all, so I decided to take a look around!” Rider grinned, rising back to his feet. A part of Sieg hoped that this meant he was about to leave. Another part of him dreaded it. “This place is really beautiful! You chose a good spot to use as your base!” Rider continued, looking around at the ruins. Nearly everything was in a state of crumbling, but somehow it made it feel all the more peaceful.
“I’m glad you like it.” Sieg said, a smile pulling gently at his lips. Rider smiled again.
“Ah! How rude of me! All this time we’ve both been here, and I haven’t even properly introduced myself! I’m Astolfo, one of the twelve Paladins of Charlemagne! It’s a pleasure to meet you, and to be in your service!” Rider bowed, pink braid bouncing over his shoulder. His head popped back up, smiling so kindly, greeting him like a friendly stranger- everything Sieg had been wanting to avoid.
Even so, he forced himself to respond.
“Yes, I’m familiar with your story… My name is Sieg. I was in possession of the Greater Grail, but it has been having issues lately.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Sieg! Even though we technically already met! I hope that we can have fun working together, even if it’s only temporary!” Rider chirped.
“Yes… I hope so too.” Sieg nodded. It shouldn’t have been so hard. He knew in his head that the Servants here were not the ones he knew. Each time they were summoned from the Grail, they were a clean slate, only containing the memories of their own lifetime… and this place was merely a simulation, so there was no way for Rider to ever recall him. That was how things were, and he knew that, but still his heart refused to calm itself. It was saddened. All that time spent in the Reverse Side, sleeping and fighting, waiting, and somehow it had not occurred to him just how much he had missed the people that he knew.
Saying goodbye to Rider had not been easy, but he had been able to do it, knowing that Rider could go on doing what he loved. He had been at peace with the knowledge that they would likely never meet again, as long as he knew that Rider would be happy. Yet now, as he stood before him, Sieg felt bitterly just how much he had missed his presence, his voice, his everything.
“So, why are you sitting here by yourself?” Rider asked. Sieg tried to think of an answer.
“I just wanted a bit of alone time.” He admitted. It wasn’t exactly a lie.
“I see! I guess I’m intruding then, huh? Sorry about that! I can be on my way if you’d like! You did look really peaceful sitting here in the flowers, so I should have known you were enjoying yourself. You just looked so serious, I was worried you might be thinking about something sad.” Rider began to babble, a slight pink coloring his cheeks, as he realized the awkwardness of the situation. He had always been like this, lacking in awareness until it was already too late. Sieg couldn’t help but smile.
“It’s fine. Thank you for your concern. I’m alright, though, so you don’t need to worry.” He assured Rider.
“Sorry,” Rider giggled, still looking embarrassed. “I guess I should go now, then.” He said, but there was hesitancy in his voice. Sieg frowned.
“You… don’t have to.” He found himself saying. “You’re free to go wherever you want here. Don’t let me stop you from exploring.”
Immediately, Rider’s face brightened, and a nostalgic feeling tugged within Sieg’s chest. It didn’t take that much to make him happy, did it?
Pushing himself up from the ground, Sieg’s sword shifted against his leg, falling back to its usual position. There was no point in sitting around then, if Rider had found his way here anyway.
“Ah, are you leaving…?” Rider asked, his face falling slightly. A part of Sieg had to wonder why he cared.
“No… I just wanted to stretch my legs.” He said. “You must be pretty bored, if you’re worried about me heading off.” He smiled softly, and Rider laughed.
“No, it’s not that. I just wanted to spend some time with you.” He smiled back, his expression gentle. “I don’t know what it is, but you feel familiar somehow.”
Those words tugged at his heartstrings, hard enough that they nearly snapped. Rider’s eyes had a distant, melancholy look in them, as if he were trying to remember something from a long forgotten dream.
“I know it’s silly, but it’s a nice feeling, so I’d like to spend some more time with you, if you’re okay with that.” Rider cocked his head to the side, flashing him a grin. Sieg was at a loss for how to respond. His mind and heart were pushed up against each other, trying to put sense to Rider’s words. It wasn’t possible. He knew that. This wasn’t the Rider he knew. His heart was merely being fooled by the similarities, by what he wanted to hear.
Rider needed a response, Sieg realized, but he was stuck. Did he want the pain of spending time with him, or the pain of sending him away? He opened his mouth, hoping something would come out, but Rider beat him to it.
“My sword…” He said, suddenly, eyes fixed on the weapon at Sieg’s side. “Why do you… have that?” Rider asked, his voice trailing off in a dazed sort of confusion. Sieg stiffened. Keeping the sword out in the open like this for anyone to see… he hadn’t thought twice about it. It had been attached at his hip for so long, it was almost an extension of himself… | 3c8b88161af74d41a3e277d7c2035b15 | ['53545fee37824b6488409a75282bde3c'] |
1. Chapter 1
His eyes peeled open slowly, the world around him a dark, damp haze. His clothes were soggy and cold, with a nice layer of ooze caked just about everywhere. Gagging, he sat up, trying to brush it off. Most of it had hardened from the cold, but it was still slimy and putrid.
Gilgamesh took in his surroundings. The forest, out near the Einzbern's... the sky was dark, dusky. Sun would be rising in about an hour. He yawned, despite himself, his muscles popping and cracking as he tried to stand up.
Whatever had transpired the night before was nothing more than a blur now. A mission for Kirei, no doubt, and he was quite certain the dog had been there too. Now though, the lancer was nowhere to be seen. Gil _tsked_ in disapproval, trying to pick a clump of mud off his shoulder. Had the dumb mutt took off on him? Or had he met his demise? Either way, Gilgamesh had expected more. How pathetic.
He stretched, and something inside of him bubbled. Ah yes, the mud. It still hadn't calmed itself. He'd had to resort to that form, to take out Assassin. Had they defeated it? He couldn't recall. Everything was fuzzy when he let the ooze break his shell. He would have needed a decent chunk of mana to get back to this form... had he swallowed some of Assassins bodies? It had only been an hour or so, he couldn't have just pulled himself together- not even he, the King of Heroes, was powerful enough to recover _that_ quickly.
His stomach roiled, a heavy lump of mana resting somewhere deep inside... whatever it was, it seemed he hadn't broken it down yet. He shuddered, another wave of mud coming on, and he fell to his knees, gagging as the ooze pushed itself back up his throat, through his pores. Until he'd finished his meal, it seemed his true form would not be so easily maintained.
The mana seeped from his prey, filtering through the veiny channels within, and Gil thought he could feel it struggling. Still alive? He had not remembered Assassin being nearly that tenacious. His sunk deeper inside himself, trying to see just what it was he had swallowed.
Gilgamesh blinked. Of all the things he'd thought he'd find, he hadn't for a moment expected the dog. But there it was, Lancer, slowly breaking apart deep down in the ooze. So that was where he'd gone.
He was surprised to see the his body was still in tact. The first layer of mana had already been stripped down and taken apart, and the mud was working its way through him, snapping his magic circuits. It was... almost a shame, seeing him so helpless, his life leached from him slowly, his body appropriated by another. Even if it was himself, a spirit much worthier of existing in this plane, to suffer such a fate... surely even the mutt didn't deserve that.
Ah well. It couldn't be helped. He was already rather close to his core, and if he didn't digest him, he'd be stuck as a pile of mud. Not all sacrifices were fair, but such was life.
He took another step, and Lancer shuddered, his mana pitching a fit. Even now, he still fought, tried to resist assimilation. Gil sighed, shaking his head. Had he been in his own mind, he wouldn't have tried eating such a troublesome meal... if he kept up like this, it would be a long walk home.
He could probably just warp there, with the Gates, but he wasn't sure how much energy that would take. More than enough to catalyze the rest of Lancer's decomposition, surely. For some reason, that thought made him feel... disappointed? He couldn't quite place the name. It was necessary, yes, and sooner was preferable to later, but... But what?
"Could you not be agreeable just _once_ in your life?" he asked impatiently, glaring down at where he assumed his core was located. "I understand this fate is not desirable, but what's done it done. Accept your end, dog." He did not expect a response, and he did not get one, other than an oppressive weighty feeling inside. Yes, disappointment, but something else. Something heavier. Could it be sorrow?
"What do you expect me to do, hmm? Allow myself to suffer just for your sake? You overestimate my compassion mongrel." he sighed, pushing forward. Every step was a little easier, more of Lancer's mana stolen into himself. It never seemed to end- the Servant was chock full of it, more than he would have expected. Soon he would be able to rebuild his shell without a problem- and he hadn't even breached the second level yet.
Gil frowned. It wouldn't take even a fourth of the man's mana to replenish himself. If he were to fully digest Lancer, he'd have no worries about reverting to this form for months. Perhaps more. He would be at the top of his game, surely. The Servant certainly was a little powerhouse, now wasn't he?
"I suppose you consider it a waste, to swallow you whole when I only needed a bite?" he asked tersely, knowing full well Lancer couldn't hear him. Even if he was alive, he was far from conscious. "And that a fair and just king would spare you of this suffering, since it has been deemed unnecessary?" He didn't know why he was saying all this. It did not matter, did it? It wasn't as if Lancer was aware of anything. He was essentially dead now, or about to be, so what difference would it make if he spared him or not? |
4ae4c41adf4745eb99783f037999d2a2 | ['5377801f6cc54c53a2c5d06d703c245b'] | With Closing Eyes and Resting Head
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Written for a prompt from Eva.
Mycroft looked down at the head lying in his lap and gave a sad smile. It had been a rough night at New Scotland Yard, and Gregory had come home a broken man. Mycroft had taken one look, lead Gregory up the stairs, helped him shower, and succinctly put him to bed. He intended to let Gregory sleep off the day’s hardships, but a softly spoke, “Mycroft,” stopped him in his tracks. He turned around, slipped under the voluminous covers, folding one leg under the over, and motioned for his exhausted partner to lay his head down.
A slight tremor was making its way through Gregory’s body as Mycroft’s hands worked their way through wet, silver hair. He pulled the covers more securely over Greg’s body, and caressed the tan skin lovingly. Mycroft had never known anyone like Greg before. It wasn’t about the sex with them. Which was a good thing, because had their relationship been centered around the sexual normative, Mycroft would have excused himself long ago. It was for moments like this. When one soul needed the irrefutable comfort that came from one body speaking to another.
The trembling slowly ceased, thanks to Mycroft’s warmth washing into Gregory’s body, soothing him, and helping him forget the horrors that police work can force upon the soul. Greg wrapped a hand around Mycroft’s thin ankle, feeling for the steady ‘tha-thump’ of Mycroft’s heartbeat, reassuring himself that _he_ was real. _He_ was alive. _He_ was here.
Tears steadily marched their way down Greg’s craggy face, seeping into Mycroft’s pajama-covered leg. Greg knew that he should get up, he should explain himself, but he was just so tired. He turned into the broad hands that were smoothing the tension out of his scalp and softly, relishing in the caress of his lover, with a wearisome sigh, started talking.
“She was 5. I mean, she barely had time to be a person yet, and she’s dead. And her mother? What kind of mother smothers her own child? And now her father’s got to bury his child at Christmas. Happy _fucking_ Christmas, yeah?”
He gripped Mycroft’s ankle more firmly, as though this was the one anchor holding him to this Earth, and without it, he would float into oblivion. Mycroft concentrated on soothing Gregory’s tension as it made itself known, pressing gently on the crown of Greg’s head, fingers working in steady circles towards the temples. Years of muscle memory lead him to the spots on Gregory’s head and neck that he knew carried most of Greg’s burden. Speaking tenderly, Mycroft tried to alleviate some of the pain.
“You have helped her Gregory. That little girl. And you have helped her father. You are… The best man I know. And I am sorry I cannot give you a better world.” Hands continued their rhythmic journey as Mycroft continued to speak, “You amaze me. Constantly. I never know whether to be more amazed at who you are or that you, miraculous as you are, are with me." Here Mycroft took a breath, swallowed, and continued, "I am thankful everyday I get to wake up with you beside me.”
Greg closed his eyes, and urged Mycroft to keep talking. The softly smoky voice that floated above his head grounded him and made him feel at home more than any material possessions ever could. It didn’t particularly matter _what_ it was Mycroft was saying now, as long as he kept talking. Greg could listen to him talk forever.
Mycroft smiled indulgently, reveling in the beauty of this man. His eyes were drawn to the sheen of the silver in his hair. His hands loved the feel of his sleep-warmed skin beneath them. He lifted one of Gregory’s hands and placed a soft kiss on the inner wrist. He could feel Gregory’s heartbeat beneath his lips. Steady. Strong. Just like Greg.
He moved Gregory so he was resting on Mycroft’s chest, Mycroft’s hands again finding themselves worshipping Gregory’s hair.
“Sleep. I’ll be right beside you when you wake…
“I love you.”
And with an exhaled, “Love you too, My’rft,” Mycroft Holmes resumed his monologue, and Gregory Lestrade finally surrendered to sleep.
**Author's Note:**
> Title from 'Sleep' composed by Eric Whitacre.
> Unbeta'd, UnBrit-Picked. Any mistakes are mine own.
> Obviously, I own nothing. | 7bb438d0fab045ad8ac86bf7b83f45dd | ['5377801f6cc54c53a2c5d06d703c245b'] | “Oh. You’re not one of those horribly-attractive-yet-annoyingly-undergraduate students, are you? Because that would be quite unfortunate.”
“No, no. I’m starting the first year for my Masters.”
“Good. Then I must extend the invitation for dinner. Monday. You can meet some of the others, and if you don’t know your way around yet, we can take you ‘round. It’ll be a much more informative tour than whatever maps you’ve got.”
Erik smiled, “I think I’d like that.”
“Good.”
“Gut.”
They danced together for two more up-beat songs, and Constance was able to pull some more about Erik into the open (He likes beer more than liquor, is staying at Oxley-Wright, and he thinks this music is rubbish), when an unexpected yawn spread across her face.
She heard Charles’ voice, _‘Con, we’re going to leave soon. Hank’s getting a bit jittery and Darwin’s got a morning shift. Do you want to stay, or come with?’_
_‘I’ll go with.’_
Constance looked up at Erik, smiled, and said, “Charles thinks it’s late and we should be getting home. I’m inclined to agree.”
Erik looked around him, confused. “He’s not… How did you- Are you?”
“A telepath? Charles is.” She gaze sharpened to a degree of sobriety Erik had not expected her to be able to achieve, and she asked, “Is that going to be an issue?”
Erik’s eyes lighted up and his powers reached out for the bracelet Constance was wearing, raising it from her side.
“Most _definitely_ not.”
**Author's Note:**
> This is the first time I have ever attempted something of this ilk.
>
> I am looking for a Beta, a Brit-Picker, and a German speaker. If you are any of these, and are interested in taking up the helm for this story, please drop me a line!
>
> Thanks for reading. |
d42f8fa14cb34ceba694755088c834a6 | ['538caa4f89754ab8a2223753a3f01440'] | Or perhaps the Champion is merely trying to calm him down, to take his mind off the pain he doesn't even feel anymore. It doesn't hurt – or maybe it does hurt, and he has just learned to bear it. It's difficult to tell, especially when he has to focus on breathing. He nearly chokes on his own tongue every time Hawke does it.
It's too much already. His body feels too small all of a sudden, far too small to contain both Hawke's cock and enough air for him to survive.
Alright, it does hurt. So much so that he bites the Champion's tongue without meaning to. It's a good kind of hurt, though: It burns as his body is being stretched to its very limit, and he grows lightheaded as he keeps forgetting how to breathe. He wraps one of his legs loosely around Hawke's waist, tries to pull him deeper, even though it doesn't help at all. The Champion has to go slow, much slower than he probably wants to, but it can't be helped: No matter how much they prepare, that enormous human prick just barely fits inside him. Hawke has to hold his hips down with one hand and push his cock in with the other. It's an agonizing pace that makes Orsino feel every vein, every line on this throbbing, hard thing inside him.
Then, when Hawke is a little more than halfway in, it happens. Orsino's whole body goes rigid, and he can barely summon enough strength in his arms to claw at Garrett's shoulders and push his head away. His first breath is a shaky gasp that turns into a high-pitched mewl as the Champion' cock advances even further.
It's the questionable advantage of being with a human whose cock is both longer and considerably thicker than his own. Hawke doesn't have to worry about finding the right angle; he can't possibly miss Orsino's prostate as he pushes in. From now on the constant pressure on that spot will drive him mad until he begs Hawke to go harder, faster, to stop, to kill him, to just _end_ it one way or another.
It's good. It's better than good, better than anything he could have hoped for. There is nothing on his mind, nothing at all, except this. Nothing but the other man's flesh pushing into his body. Nothing but the impossibly slow drag of that monstrous cock.
He can't seem to breathe right. Every inhale turns into a shudder, each exhale becomes either a moan or an embarrassing squeal, depending on what Hawke's currently doing inside him.
And then it gets better, or worse, he doesn't know. There is a certain point, a certain depth where he just _knows_ , knows with absolute certainty that he should not be breached any further. No matter how many times they do this, he just can't shake this instinctual fear that he will be hurt, ripped apart.
He has to hold on to something, anything. He wraps his arms around Hawke's back and pulls him closer, pushes his head down. His fingers find new scars there, what feels like five, six arrows that ended up in his back nearly dead center. It's a miracle this man is still alive.
When Hawke's beard brushes his neck their hips finally make contact, and Orsino can feel the thick, wiry hairs between his legs. For one crazy second he is convinced he is being mounted by an animal.
The Champion stays like that for a while, probably in an attempt to let him get used to the sensation – as if one could ever get used to the feeling of having one's most vulnerable part completely at the mercy of someone else's whim. That in itself is terrifying – he feels weak, exposed, threatened. It's all just in his head, and yet it's nearly overwhelming.
Hawke is patient with him, waits until he's done gasping for air like a dying fish, then starts rocking back and forth ever so slowly. It's the sweetest kind of torture.
Orsino loves it, but he hates what it does to him. What it reduces him to. He's painfully hard now, and the entirely accidental brushes of his own cock against Hawke's stomach aren't really helping. It's pathetic. Humiliating. No one must ever find out that he can make these noises.
He just can't stop. Every little thrust of Hawke's hips wrings a moan, or a gasp, or a _squeal_ from him. He must sound like he's dying.
It is so much, so much pressure and sensation and pleasure and pain, so much of everything that he doesn't even worry about Meredith's knights patrolling the hallway and whether they might hear him through the door.
He just lies there and takes it. There is nothing else to do.
His climax comes and goes, completely unnoticed by him. His stomach and chest are wet all of a sudden, and that's that. Orsino is far too focused on another part of his body to give his own neglected cock any mind.
Now Hawke's cock is a different matter. Every thrust of the Champion's hips makes his whole body quiver, and his world shrinks down to that spot where they are connected. He definitely notices when the Champion reaches his peak: Again it feels like he is being pushed past his limit, filled well beyond what should be physically possible.
Overwhelming is not nearly a strong enough word to describe the experience. It's impossible. It's addictive. It's probably the last thing he ever thought he wanted or needed.
He never wants it to end.
\---------------------- | 472bd30f80c845cfa42b780f66bc4deb | ['538caa4f89754ab8a2223753a3f01440'] | _Cullen was right. Cullen was right and I was wrong – and Keran paid for it._
Hawke had never felt so ashamed of himself in his life.
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Garrett would make one last mistake that night.
It was a little thing, a moment of carelessness, of inattention that would have no immediate repercussions; but months later Garrett would regret it just as much as anything else he did that night.
When Karras returned with the Circle's two spirit healers in tow Alrik reached for Orsino's arm to get him to move away from Keran's body so the two women could get to work. The elf hissed and yanked himself free, nearly stumbling over the hem of his robes in his urgency to get away from the knight.
_"Don't touch me"_ , he snarled. " _I am not one of your tranquil!"_
Garrett missed this little exchange because he was still clinging to a boy's dead body.
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The First Enchanter's office was one of the few rooms within the tower that had a window. One could see the whole courtyard from there, the sea, and – at the very end of the horizon, so far away that one couldn't be sure whether it was more than a mirage – the City of Chains. Or at least part of the Viscount's Keep, anyway.
The weeping statues cast long shadows in the morning sun, and Hawke thought he could see a few Tranquil milling about down there already, even though it was just a few minutes after sunrise. They were diligent like that.
Diligent and docile. That was all they were.
Sophie could be down there, too, if things had gone differently. The thought came unbidden, and Hawke wasn't sure whether he should be glad or sad that she wasn't. There was no simple answer to that question.
Garrett had no idea why he had come to Orsino's office. He hadn't thought much about it. It had seemed obvious, in a way; he had spent the bigger part of the last 24 hours in the First Enchanter's presence, so Hawke had come to him again after he had realized that Keran wouldn't come back to life no matter how long he sat in the infirmary and held his cold hand. The spirit healers had sent him away eventually, told him to get some rest. Dawn had come by the time they finally got him to move.
There was no way Hawke could go to sleep, not after what had happened.
Resting, sleeping meant inactivity, meant time to _think_ , and he couldn't do that right now. Working, keeping himself occupied was the logical solution, and he had come down to his office to do just that.
Orsino had probably intended to do the same; but somehow they had ended up in Orsino's office, looking down on the Gallows' courtyard.
The elf had neither welcomed him nor tried to send him away; he hadn't even acknowledged Garrett's presence. They stood right next to each other, close enough that they would probably bump shoulders if Hawke moved just a little, but they tried their hardest not to look at each other.
After some time Orsino broke the silence. "I am sorry for your loss."
"Me too. For yours, I mean. I am sorry. Damn."
Orsino nodded.
That was all they had to say to each other right now.
Garrett should go now and leave Orsino to his own devices. To the mage he was an enemy; Hawke wouldn't be surprised if the elf blamed him for Sophie's death.
Garrett blamed himself as well.
Even though he didn't want to think about it there was nothing else to focus on; Orsino's silent contemplation did nothing to distract him from his own grim thoughts.
He kept wondering where he went wrong, what he could have done to save both or at least one of them. Thousands of different scenarios came to mind, but none of them sounded right. So many things that could have gone differently, so many little things that might have changed anything. If he had stepped in, if he had been faster, if he had been smarter, if he had been stronger, if someone else had been Knight-Commander... too many ifs.
One of his first acts as Knight-Commander, and it had gotten two people killed.
The only thing he could do now was try to learn from his mistakes, to make sure he wouldn't repeat them. But what should he do differently? In a few weeks he would face another Harrowing; what should he do to keep this from happening again?
"I still can't believe it", he said eventually, still lost in his own thoughts. "It doesn't make sense. I knew the possibility existed but – I just can't believe they _both_ died. That rarely ever happens. It's just –"
He had wanted to say that it wasn't fair, but he stopped himself. It sounded dumb, like he was a young boy that hoped his reality would change just because he wanted it to. He was babbling and he knew it. What did one _say_ in such a situation?
"I thought everything would be fine, you know? It's routine, after all. It shouldn't have ended like this. With a different Knight-Commander it wouldn't have ended like this."
"No", Orsino agreed. "Meredith would have killed Sophie five hours into her trial. She would have sacrificed her for the sake of her knights. Do you regret your decision to let her live?"
Garrett turned to face him. The mage, on the other hand, was still looking down on the courtyard. He had spoken to the window, like he was talking to himself.
"I don't know", Garrett answered truthfully. "That doesn't sound right, either. If I had known for certain that Sophie wasn't going to make it... But I didn't. Still, it was the only other option I had left at the time and maybe I should've... I don't know, I just don't know." |
fdab0b9fbe4c4711bf1a536620e0b3d2 | ['539a951cf60d42a3ba97346b2dad17f9'] | Izzy laughed her first real laugh of the night, “Yeah, no, if anyone kills my dad it’s gonna be me. Yeah, Definitely me” she giggled, “Don’t get me wrong though, if I need help for some reason, you’re the first guy I’ll call,” she giggled again, “Yeah, totally, mhm”
_‘There she is’_ Noah smiled to himself, “I better be.”
He finished the last few twists, and tied the bottom of the hair, “Wallah,” He spoke in his normal monotone, “I’m Done” He said as he laid down on the bed.
Izzy, now back to her old self, Leaped off the bed, grabbing her hair to transfer the braid to her shoulder for a good look at it, “Oh my Gosh, Thank You!”
“It’ll be Twenty bucks.”
She ignored him as she twirled excitedly, “We have to check in the mirror, Like right NOW”
Noah glanced at her from where he reclined comfortably the bed, “I’m Busy.”
And with that Izzy was carrying him off to the Bathroom mirror.
Once there, Izzy beamed at her reflection, “AAAAAAAH, I’m So Pretty!!!!”
Noah Leaned on the door frame crossing his arms, “You’re Welcome.”
She looked over to him, “Oh right, yeah, the Braids nice, too.”
Her hair stylist rolled his eyes.
The now happy teen grabbed her friend, before rushing through the hall, “C’mon, let’s go show my brother! Like we have too! He’ll be sooo Jealous, haha”. Noah tried to maintain his signature look of disinterest, but he couldn’t help but grin at his obnoxious friend returning to her normal self.
**Author's Note:**
> **Eva worked on the group project.
>
> Boom! There it is! Was it good? I hope so! If not, I'm sorry, but please share with me what you think I can do to improve!!! Thank you for reading!!!! | 80a6fbb6792f4eff9aa6968539208f28 | ['539a951cf60d42a3ba97346b2dad17f9'] | Cody Spun in his chair to face the man he kinda forgot had eyes, which was a bit of a shock, considering how often he had been lost in them. “Oh, Trent. Uh. Hi, no. Yeah, nothing is being- That is to say-- I mean you didn’t, you see it’s a funny story!” Cody Sputtered as his face grew redder and redder.
Noah then put a calm hand on his friend's shoulder, which effectively got Cody to shut-up. The two shared a look, as if to signal that Noah has it from here.
Cody relaxed in his chair, but this new peace was short lived, killed by the sound of Noah’s voice saying, “Cody thinks you’re cute. You two should date.”
“DUDE!” Cody’s blush was suddenly no longer constrained to the limits of his face, as the tips of his ears and Neck were claimed by the vibrant color.
“You said you wanted me to do it, so I did.” Noah Stood up, grabbing his book in the process. He then started to walk away from the couple, but not before patting his friend on the head and saying, “Go get ‘em, Tiger.”
Cody Turned and glared, “I Hate You! So Much!”
Noah shot him a finger gun with his free hand, before disappearing among the myriad of bookshelves.
Cody continued his hateful stare where is dumb friend used to be, before being brought back to the situation by a soft chuckle.
“Cute, huh?” Trent smirked, “Always thought of myself as more ‘Handsome’ than ‘Cute’.”
Cody gave another nervous laugh as he avoided the taller boy’s eyes, “Aah, well, there’s no law you can’t be both?”
Trent smiled, before leaning on the table, trying to meet the other’s glance “So, do _you_ think we should date, or is that just Noah?”
Cody Turned to finally face Trent, noticing the light pink that graced the boy’s cheeks. He smiled, before rubbing the back of his neck, and glancing at the ceiling, “I mean, I think it’d be cool…” Cody returned his glance back to Trent, “ If you’re, like, interested I mean..”
Trent gave Cody a soft smile, the pink on his face darkening, “Yeah, man, that’d be cool.”
“Really?! Cool!” Cody said, a little to loud, and maybe with too much enthusiasm. Embarrassed, He cleared his throat “I mean,” He reclined in his chair, before continuing in his best cool voice, “Really? Cool.”
Trent smiled fondly at the geek, “So, Saturday sound good to you? We could catch a movie, or something.”
Cody continued leaning in the chair, trying his best to be cool, though his red face betrayed him, “ Saturday, Movies, sounds good.”
“Cool.” Trent said before standing up, “I’ll pick you up around 5, ok?”
“Okay.”
The two smiled at each other, both clearly trying to seem like they aren’t freaking out right now. They were also both failing at this.
Trent broke the silence once again, “Well, I should get back to my friends..”
“Yeah, I should probably find mine.” Cody laughed.
“Cool, see you Saturday.”
“Definitely!”
And with that, Trent rejoined his two friends, who, Cody realizes, were 100% watching the whole thing. The thought immediately leaves his mind, though, as he’s surprised by a sudden, yet familiar, monotonous sound.
“Did it work?”
Cody turned to the voice only to discover that Noah had returned. He stood up, and punched his dumb friend on the arm, “Ow, Dude?!”
“I hope you know, That You’re The Worst” Cody declared, glaring at the other boy. This look, however, didn’t last long before being replaced with child like glee, “We’re seeing a movie on Saturday!”
Noah grinned, though still rubbing his arm, “You’re welcome. I expect an apology for the assault.”
“You’re still the worst.”
“Apology excepted.”
2. OH! How The Turn Tables!
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> After Dating Trent for a Few Weeks, Cody fancies himself a Love Expert, and insists on helping Noah also Get The Guy.
AKA: Noah and Cody Are Both Hypocrites.
Noah peeked out from where he hid, only to swiftly duck back behind the wall. He sighed, “This is Stupid. I’m Not Doing It.”
“It’s Not Stupid, dude!” Cody encouraged, “C’mon! You can do it! I Believe in You!”
“It’s not a question of Ability, it’s about willingness” Noah looked to his friend, “And I’m Not Doing It.”
Cody locked eyes with Noah, and slowly raised his hands to his hips.
“Cody. Don’t.”
The geek didn’t obey, instead he kept his eyes trained on his friend and uttered a simple, yet powerful,“Bwack.”
“You’re Not Funny.”
Cody seemed to disagree as he continued to not only Bwack but also flap his elbows.
“_Cody Stop It._”
Cody froze mid flap, “Are you Gonna Do It.”
“No-”
“BA-BWACK!!!” He screeched Flailing his arms like an angry chicken.
Noah Lunged at his Dumb Friend to cover up his Dumb Mouth, “_What Is Wrong With You???” _ He hissed.
“Mmmbbmm. Mrrmm’m mrrmm mmm _MMM._’”
Noah Glared, “I’ll take my hand away if you promise to quit being _The_ Most Obnoxious Person I Know.”
Cody thought about this deal, truly pondered, gave it a good ol’ think before smiling under Noah’s palm.
Noah cocked a brow, before his face was twisted into shock and disgust as he ripped his now saliva covered hand away from The Most Obnoxious Person He Knows.
He opened his mouth to berate his Dumb Friend That He Hates but all that came out was, “BAAAAAAaaaaaaAAAAAAHH!!!!! GAAAAHHHHGGG!!” he yelled, “ mllLYAAK, nygah” was all he could say to illustrate how repulsed he was, but finally he was able to formulate the words “WhYY?!?”
“Your Hand Tastes Like Hand Sanitizer.”
Noah Looked at Cody, in something akin to rage, disgust, and bafflement. “What would make you do that?? What Would Make You Think That Was Ok?? Tell Me, I Would Really Like To Know The Reason You Decided To Die Today??” |
d27455bc6d2346ee8bcc2e7a90ac75ad | ['53a448e319704049bfa0f9bf65266e05'] | The two AllMates and Noiz followed Aoba as he groggily stumbled into the living room and collapsed onto the couch, curling up into the blanket wrapped around him. After some teasing, Noiz went to make the two a fresh batch of coffee before they began to finish their exchange and open the gifts sent to them from loved ones afar.
Tae had sent the two of them hand-knit sweaters, each to their specific color preference, as well as a cookbook for Aoba with a slip that had the recipe for her donuts. Koujaku sent Aoba the new GOATbed album, as well as a small stuffed red hippo plush (which Aoba thought was absolutely childish and yet so like Koujaku), while he (surprisingly) sent Noiz a card – what exactly was in the card, Noiz didn't let him see. Clear, on the other hand, had managed to save up a bunch of glass bottles and made small terrariums out of them, each bottle colored beautifully and containing a variety of plants or bio-luminescent organisms.
Midori had gotten excited about the bottles and nearly knocked one over with the fuzzy end of his tiny hat, earning a holler from Noiz as he just narrowly managed to save it; Ren sighed, donned in his sweater made for small dogs, as Midori panicked and threw up a bunch of discarded wrapping paper as Noiz scrambled to capture him.
It was loud and lively and hilarious and everything Aoba had wanted on a Christmas morning, on any morning.
As Midori squealed as Noiz held him in his hand, scolding him like he would a child. At hearing the chatter and feeling so at home, for the first time since coming to this new country, Aoba couldn't help but smile and idly play with the ring on his finger.
If the future was truly as bright as it seemed now...maybe it wouldn't be so crazy to think about all the different ways he and Noiz could spend their many Christmases together.
And as Noiz answered a call on his coil from Theo, as the two of them chatted with him over the screen and made plans for dinner, plans to bring Tae over so she could meet him properly, plans for the New Year, a warmth filled a hole in his chest he always vaguely knew was there.
He _belonged_ somewhere.
The realization brought tears to his eyes, and when Noiz ended the call, cupped his face to hush reassurances, all he could do was hold Noiz back and kiss him gently.
He had a family, a real one – and that was the best gift he could have ever gotten on any Christmas. | 0e2e4b240b5849deaa0935e3267d25d9 | ['53a448e319704049bfa0f9bf65266e05'] | Noiz immediately recognized the shade of blue.
“This child the man had picked and is now leading to a testing room was identified as Case 0422. _This_ is Eagle Eye.”
“He's just a kid!” another person exclaimed.
“What the hell kind of organization tests on kids?! This is fucking sick!”
They were silenced a bit when the image changed again, to where the scientist had placed Aoba onto a clinical table in one of the smaller rooms bearing a striking resemblance to a pediatrician's office.
“Notes regarding Case 0422 described him as a quiet child, shy, prone to crying–“
All of which fit Aoba perfectly.
“-- and generally weak overall. They had performed many tests in the attempts to unlock his ghoul powers, however they had all ended in failure. He did not handle any of these tests well, and it was speculated it may have hindered his growth as a hybrid. They noted that if they were unable to activate them after this test we see here, he was to be terminated.”
As if on cue, the Aoba in the video began to visibly grow panicked when the scientist called over his subordinates to subdue him. Noiz watched as Aoba's child-self struggled against the restraints, as tears formed in his eyes when a blade bearing a familiar glow – a quinque – came into view.
Suddenly, as though the video had skipped a second, one of the nurses had lost her head, blood spurting all over the others and coating the sterile walls with a dark red. The visual panic in the people on the screen matched the noises Noiz and his partner could hear behind them.
Aoba had broken out of his restraints, his ukaku sprouting from his shoulder blades.
Before anyone else in the footage could move, he lunged forward and tore through one nurse's torso, gnawing at her stomach. After just one bite, he turned to those remaining in the room.
The video grew static after he bolted towards them.
“This is where the footage for this particular room – actually, for the entire building, goes offline for about twenty minutes. This may have been for the best, as when the surveillance comes back online...” his voice trailed off as the footage came back to show the recreational room in total disaster.
There were bodies, both of children and adults, strewn about, limbs thrown this way and that, blood pooling all over. If nobody was given any context behind this footage, one would guess it was a scene from the darkest of slasher films ever produced.
In the middle of the room, there was Aoba, hunched over another small figure – if Noiz squinted hard enough, he recognized it as the other child from earlier in the video – chewing on one of their arms. His ukaku was large and vibrant, though as he continued to eat, it began to shrink and dissolve.
It suddenly dawned on Noiz that Aoba had eaten another ghoul in the past, maybe even more than just the child he was devouring now in the video.
“If Eagle Eye is eating another ghoul, wouldn't that–“
“That is _exactly_ the reason why Eagle Eye is without a doubt a Rank S ghoul. When ghouls resort to cannibalism, they not only grow stronger from the other's kagune, but they tend to become mentally unstable. What we essentially have here is a ghoul with the power and mental instability that rivals that of Centipede, set loose onto the world for the last fifteen years.”
“So what are you saying, that this thing is even _more_ dangerous than we initially thought?!”
“What the hell were these people thinking?!”
Tuning out the protests and questions erupting behind him, Noiz wracked through his brain trying to put the pieces of what he knew and what he just learned together.
Eagle Eye and the Wolf were suspected to both originate from Ground Zero.
Eagle Eye was suspected – then confirmed – to be Aoba Seragaki, due to past incidents in his neighborhood's general area.
Somehow, Eagle Eye – Aoba – managed to remain under the radar without exposing himself.
If he had to guess, judging by how often he ate his grandmother's meals and now knowing exactly what they were, it's possible Aoba may be a binge-eater ghoul, which makes the last point even more peculiar.
Despite the sheer power he had witnessed that night and just moments ago even as a child, Aoba did not seem to want to fight.
He was afraid of Noiz.
He did not want to hurt Noiz.
He didn't retaliate until he needed to, and even when he did, he didn't seem to have a full grasp on his kagune.
He's had fifteen years since Ground Zero to get his powers in check, yet he acted as though he had never needed to use them before.
It clicked.
_Was...Aoba Seragaki not even aware of himself? This whole time?_
“Worry not, agents. I'm sure you've heard rumors, but the CCG has been working on a new weapon to combat exactly this,” Akushima announced as some man in a black suit Noiz was sure he had seen in passing but didn't recognize came to the front of the room pushing a large, covered box on a dollie.
“Underneath this curtain lies what will change the course of our on-going war with the ghouls. While this may be just a prototype, we will be using it out on the field to undergo the first of what will hopefully be many tests against a real ghoul.”
The man in the black suit lifted the veil. There, within a box made of glass, stood a man. His eyes were closed, partially concealed behind his bangs which were white like the first of winter's snow. He, too, was wearing a black suit. |
02b346e9567240d1a450b494f671c8aa | ['53a879f0640d4372992f96477fe29033'] | “He is fine, constantly keeping himself immersed with work,” she said. “But I am here because I require your aid: London is obviously a world in its own, anything can get lost, so I need all the help I can attain to sniff out the trail of Starrick’s deadly concoction.”
The Indian tilted his head to the right, whereas Ned quietly sipped his cup of Assam tea. “Miss Callum, you and I formed the Hermes Circle in order to work in complete secrecy. And yet, it was you who turned from us; you followed Jayadeep Mir and his methods. Now, you come here and ask me to relinquish some of my men for something so perilous? Explain.”
The conversations around them lulled, and then it was silent. Sarah reached up to grasp the little timepiece, and thought of Jacob. “I left our Circle, because I ceased to be selfish. I chose to stop and listen. My home, my former life, was taken away by the Blighters. Fear kept me shackled to the Underworld. Jayadeep made me acknowledge that mistake. And with the Rooks, you can finally stop hiding as well.”
Sarah then began to take a few steps back. “Thank you for your time, Mandeep, and I hope that we will meet again in less...harsher situations.”
In the stuffy area where most of the Englishmen intermingled, she gingerly slid past the half-drunken souls. To think that she had to contact her old group from two years ago. The confrontation alone elicited feelings that would have been unlikely to emerge during circumstances like this.
“Hold on, it’ll be rude of me to leave you alone out there.” Ned appeared and guided her out of The Cloak, where he signaled for yet another rickety old carriage. “You did good, Miss Callum, don’t worry about Old Mandeep, he’ll come around soon.”
Sarah forced a smile. “We can only hope, Mr. Wynert. Go on, you still have things to discuss with him.”
“The goods I’ve smuggled can always wait, especially for a good friend.” He opened the carriage door for and helped her climb inside. “To Rosemary Lane, old chap!”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This is almost like another filler. Of course, I needed to show more of Sarah's origins, and we discover that she was already leading a secret society of oppressed citizens alongside an Indian scholar. During the Victorian Era, there was an increase in population for the Indians, mostly males because females rarely left their country.
>
> I had a fun time with Jacob and Sarah again. Also, this was supposed to be the part where the Frye Twins are introduced to the FIGHT CLUB!
>
> *Archana is a female Hindi name that means "dedication".
>
> AC Unity Update: Should I write it journal entry style or just plain 3rd or 1st POV?
14. Sweet Dreams
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Henry pays a visit to his dear friend, and Sarah recalls the time she first met The Ghost
The long rectangular table was laden with a selection of pastries, cakes, and chinaware. The young girl sitting at one of the opposite ends could not control her delight at seeing such parade of delicacies that she had to curiously swipe a finger across the airy icing of the nearest spongecake. Cynthia, garbed in a livery consisting of a black cotton gown and a muslin apron, arranged the porcelain teacup and saucer, and poured the generous tea, stopping just beneath the hand-painted pink rosettes along the gold brim. With little hands, the six-year-old reached for the pretty cup and swirled its contents a bit. On the other end, immersed in a book of Austen, Sarah absently stirred a very unlikely amount of sugar and milk into her cup.
“Did you know, back in the old days, if a young, unmarried woman was to drop her handkerchief on the ground and a gentleman picks it up, they are fated to be married?” Sarah uttered whilst turning a page of her book.
“That sounds absurd; not a single man would do such a thing during this day and age, unless the girl is handsome and prestigious.” Cynthia commented with all the pure sourness of a lemon. She tutted at their guest and not-so-gently wiped her face with the table napkin.
“Quite. But I must say that would have been thrilling.”
“Young Miss Callum is only saying that because she fantasizes about Mr. Frye at night.”
“I am not amused, Cynthia.”
“I think it is wonderful to find the one you love.” The little girl lively chirped.
“Right you are, Viola.” Sarah smiled and sipped her sweetened tea.
After passing through the same road to return to Rosemary Lane, the child had not left her position of distress. She continued to wail into the ground, clutching her stomach with bruised hands. Sarah had ordered the carriage to stop, and quickly dismounted her ride. The wailings soon reduced to tiny whimpers as the dark-haired girl gradually looked up, thinking the terrible woman had come back to punish her again. The dark rings beneath her wide blue eyes suggested lack of rest, and there was a tiny bleeding cut on the upper left side of her mouth. Sarah offered her most compassionate smile; she carefully helped the girl to sit upright and tucked her curly brown locks behind her ears. Even in her grip, she could feel nothing but skin latching onto bones.
“Is it over?” she asked, looking down on her face. “Have you cried your grief away?”
“I’m not certain.”
“And why not?”
“Because if I go back inside, Mrs. Smith will just hit me, and everything will start over. She says I’m a bad child, and that I don’t deserve any kindness.”
Sarah sighed and began to wipe the dirt off the little girl. “And how do you even know you are a bad child?” | df0ac426b09b42d3b667dba211fba4b0 | ['53a879f0640d4372992f96477fe29033'] | Jacob pulled out the miniature timepiece from his pocket and stared at the ticking hands. It was already ten minutes past six, and the sun was starting to settle down after a long tiring day of being a salvation and a strain to the people of this earth. He fumbled the item in his hand, turning it over and back, until he dashed into the road to latch upon the read of a passing carriage. Jacob thought that his return to Darwin would go very smoothly, but then he felt a particularly large drop of water smack his face, and soon a heavy deluge came down on London. He silently cursed the weather phenomena.
When he neared the street where he chased down Mr. Owen a little an hour ago, he leaped off his ride and approached the gated grounds of Lambeth Asylum. From where he stood, Jacob could see the massive gothic tower standing over everything like some hellish entity from a dream. He saw Darwin struggling with an umbrella against the blustery winds, but it had folded upon itself. Quickly, he made his presence known.
“Mr. Frye!” Mr. Darwin exclaimed, releasing the broken umbrella to the accursed breeze. “I trust that you had a productive meeting with Mr. Owen?”
“Oh yes, we had a most wonderful chat.” Jacob said sardonically. “I’ve found that the man behind Starrick’s Soothing Syrup is John Elliotson.”
Immediately, Mr. Darwin’s face scrunched up in brooding. “Doctor Elliotson? I haven’t heard that name in a long while. He was a brilliant heart specialist, until he became obsessed with phrenology and mesmerism. It ruined his career.” Then his mood lightened almost instantly. “Well, how should we proceed in this thrilling endeavor?”
Jacob quickly raised a hand to stop him. “With all respect, Mr. Darwin, I believe I should proceed alone. After all, we wouldn’t want to attract any...unwanted attention.”
“Sounds very wise.” Mr. Darwin punctuated each word. “Good luck my boy!” The old fellow patted his back and turned to leave, but quickly stopped to say—
“Oh, and Mr. Frye, should you find yourself with any free time, please, do call on me.” Jacob nodded in agreement and watched the odd bearded man walk away whilst whistling a jolly tune.
Before he could take a step toward the daunting asylum, the young man reached into his pocket and felt for the timepiece inside. “Just a little while longer, and I’ll be return to you shortly afterwards, love.” He then tucked his flat cap into his jacket and pulled the Assassin hood over his face.
Jacob slithered through the drive and sneaked past the sleepy guards at the main entrance. Using his rope launcher, he scaled up the edifice and settled on the rooftop, where he continued to venture upwards the gothic spire and perched atop its massive iron cross. The rain continued to fall down on his head and shoulders, creating the perfect somber mood for his mission. There, Lambeth was shrouded in colors of grey, black, and white. He studied the buildings beneath him, contemplating which route to use, when he noted that several windows were wide open, forgotten by the staff.
“Seems that I have all the luck tonight.” Jacob smirked and abruptly leaped from his post; the rushing wind howled in his ears before he landed safely onto a knoll of dried leaves. Shaking the debris off himself, he slid down the wet tiles and navigated his way towards the bright square of light, to which he passed through with relevant ease.
The room seemed to be occupied by a group of three patients. However, the dusting of dirt on the tabletops, the span of cobwebs in every corner, and overall scene of desolation were enough for the Assassin to acknowledge the ill-treatment of the admitted patients. For some reason, the wards were strangely silent as he stepped out into empty hallways. Suddenly, a scream broke through the symphony of rainfall. Jacob followed the noise until he came upon a lavish hall with the patients walking about with no direction.
With quiet steps, he came toward the balustrade and listened in on the dialogues below.
“Doctor Elliotson is using live specimens for his experiments again,” grumbled one.
“Oh. Is he holding the session at the Medical Theatre this time?” his partner asked.
“Aye, and from the looks on the students’ faces, I say it was utter gruesome in there.”
Jacob frowned at the thought of using defenseless sick people to achieve scientific results. As he skulked along the edges, he caught sight of one of the patients, a girl with long messy blonde hair, walking aimlessly among her peers before one deranged man grabbed her by the locks and threw her down to the floor. The nurses tried to pull him off the girl, but couldn’t even manage a budge. It wasn’t until a brawny orderly came and whacked the man in the head with his truncheon.
The Assassin let out a shaky breath and concentrated on the mission: the Medical Theatre was simply a meter away from where he stood. He needed a stealthier way around the double doors so as not to arouse suspicions from the staff. Then, his miracle came in the form of a flue: to there he scuttled his way into another corridor, and was beside the area he needed to be in. Jacob came toward the windows, which showed the spacious theatre and its current performance on stage.
Doctor Elliotson had plunged some sort of tool straight into the skull of a male patient. The man cried out in pain as the foreign matter entered his cranium. The doctor held him down with one hand, while the other continued to twist the apparatus, garnering more crimson liquid to pour out of the gaping wound in terrible results. From the silence, everyone, including the Assassin hidden in the shadows, heard a loud crunch, and the patient had eventually stopped convulsing. |
4888aba4b9e44a91bf25f9b0cf48e804 | ['53acd72024f748e49126065c311296a2'] | Do You Know About The Concept of Polyamory?
Remus walked out of his appartment, closed the door and picked up the books he laid down to lock the door. He was on his way to a quick - well, if you call 2 hours quick - visit to the library, when he bumped into two boys.
"S-Sorry!" He stumbled, whilest picking up his books.
"Doesn't matter." The tallest one said, helping with the books.
"Happens to the best of us!" The other one said, looking at Remus.
"A History of Punk" The tallest one read.
"Its... For a project." Remus said, grabbing the book and hiding it. It was still a pretty big secret he liked punk music, since his study friends would not be happy with it.
"Don't lie to me mate, I recognize a punk when I see one." Said the smallest, and Remus finally looked up. The boy was wearing a black leather vest, with patches and badges of several bands Remus only recently listened to. The taller one was also wearing such a vest, only without the patches and badges.
"I.. Have to go now." Remus said, turning around a walking away.
"Where are you going, mate?" The smaller one asked.
"The library." Remus said, walking faster.
"Well.. We have nothing to do.. Mind if we go with you?" The taller one said.
"The library is a public space." Remus said, looking at the taller one. He had black hair, and it seemed he made it look like he just came out of bed with a lot of hair products, Remus can smell hairspray from miles away. Especially that much.
"I'm James." The tall one said, whilest gliding a hand through his hair.
"And I'm Sirius." The other said, laughing a big goofy smile.
"Remus." Remus said, holding the books with a different hand.
"Here, let me help you with those books." James said, grabbing some of the books.
"No, no!" Remus said, trying to put the books away from James, but it was too late.
The books fell again and Remus hastily tried to pick them all up. James was holding a book, and when Remus saw which one his cheeks turned a bright pink. It was a book about and by gay people, and their stories.
"I'm sorry mate." James said, handing the book back to Remus.
"What're you sorry about?" Sirius said, trying to see the book. Remus quickly put it underneath all the others.
When Remus stepped in the library he forgot all his worries. He delivered the books back and walked over to the fiction books. The real life-ish stories where his favourite. Especially the LGBT ones. He read almost all of them, but each week he discovered some he didn't read allready. This week it was a book about an asexual girl and a pansexual girl living together, and their adventures. He picked it up and walked to the non-fiction books.
"So he's..." Sirius said, not knowing Remus was right behind him.
"Sirius..." James said, smiling at Remus. Remus started blushing again.
"No, it's perfect James! You always wondered if he liked guys!" Sirius said, jumping up and down, still not seeing Remus.
"Sirius...!" James said, now also blushing.
"And I like him too and maybe he knows about polyamory and then we can fuck while Peter has to go away and..." Sirius then turned around a saw Remus, who had bright pink cheeks, and his voice drifted away. "Oops."
A few awkward seconds ticked by and then Sirius started to laugh. Quickly James started laughing too and Remus could also not hold himself.
"Well..." Remus said, when he was finished laughing.
"Sorry, mate." Sirius said to James, who said it was okay.
"Well, hello, I'm Sirius, I'm bisexual and I think you're hella cute. This is James and he's pansexual and he thought you were cute from the minute you moved into your appartment. Do you know about the concept of polyamory?"
Remus started to laugh, which triggered James into laughing too. Sirius looked at them, not knowing why they laughed.
"What?" Sirius said.
"That was the most horrible pick up line ever, Sirius." James said, wiping tears out of his eyes.
"But to answer your question," Remus said, "I do know polyamory."
"And are you interested in us?" Sirius asked. James laughed again.
"We'll see about that after our first date." Remus said, walking away towards the magazines. | 8ce0b1f13ff74d2f9e8dcf31ed03dfbb | ['53acd72024f748e49126065c311296a2'] | It's been haunting me...
**Author's Note:**
> I read somewhere in a fanfic about Enjolras loving V for Vendetta and then I realized, if he would live in this time, the movie would be perfect for him. So yeah. Here you have a fluffy fic. (By the way I still have to read the Brick, so this is based on Movie!Enjolras).
Grantaire sat down on the couch besides Enjolras. He picked up the remote control and smiled at the blonde.
"Oh no. What did you choose now?" Enjolras asked, suddenly becoming very afraid.
"You'll love it. It's a science fiction movie of the 70's."
"Please tell me you didn't choose Alien!" Enjolras said, his face becoming white.
"Uhm.. No. Maybe. Why?" Grantaire said, slightly worried.
"No no no! No! You are not putting that movie on!" Enjolras said, running to the bathroom.
Grantaire's worries now grew so big that he also got a bit scared. He jumped up and walked to the bathroom.
Only to find it locked.
"Enjy, open it." He asked, knocking on the door.
"No!" Enjolras yelled back, sounding as if he was crying.
"Darling, please open it. Sorry I made you upset." Grantaire said, again trying to open the door.
A few seconds later he heard a click and a loud sigh.
He quickly opened the door and scanned the room to search the blonde curls.
Enjolras sat next to the sink, crying.
"Enjolras? What's wrong?" Grantaire asked, sitting down next to him.
"Nothing. I... That movie..." Enjolras mumbled, laying his head on Grantaire's shoulder.
"Oh god no. Are you... Afraid of Alien?"
"Don't say the name!" Enjolras yelled. "But yes. It's... been haunting me in nightmares since I was 6..."
"But dear, why didn't you say so?" Grantaire asked, putting his arm around the blonde.
"Thought you would mock me." Enjolras said.
"Why would I? As your boyfriend I would never dare to do that!" Grantaire stood up. "Now, let's watch V for Vendetta to cheer you up."
"But you hate that movie." Enjolras said, standing up too.
"But I love you." Grantaire said, kissing Enjolras. |
0cbaf3b04e8c490dbda6fabf6d548e08 | ['53b405a7c3dd43418d39c7181496a5cb'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> This is my first Sterek fic ever, and it came to be after my dear wifey, Kristy (aka pretty-stiles on tumblr) asked if I thought werewolves could get sick. As it is, I don't think so, what with the super healing and all, but I couldn't help but write this little Human!AU thingy here.
>
> As I said, this is my first Sterek piece, and it is rather short. So, please, be kind. Hope you'll enjoy!
"Hey, I made you some soup", Stiles said softly as he sat down on the bed beside where Derek laid buried under a heap of blankets.
Derek groaned, a low sound in his throat.
"Come on, big guy. Sit up, you should eat some", Stiles insisted with a small smile.
"My throat hurts", Derek muttered, and earned a chuckle.
"Soup will help. My mom always made me this when I was sick as a kid, so trust me on this one."
Derek glared a little at the lanky young man before finally giving in and wriggling up into a somewhat sitting position. "Fine, but I'm not moving out from the blankets."
Stiles eyes glittered mischievously at that.
"Open up."
"What?", Derek croaked out.
"Open your mouth, so I can feed you the soup."
Derek whined pathetically, feeling a blush creeping up on his cheeks and ears.
He didn't like being sick, and he certainly didn't like feeling this small and vulnerable. Even if it was only Stiles here.
Stiles, who had proven, multiple times, that he didn't care what situations he caught the man in (he had a vicious talent for getting into unfortunate situations, okay), he would always be kind and help, even if he had to sometimes bite down a laugh before doing so.
2. Chapter 2
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Stiles almost dies. Or, at least, that's what he claims.
"Uh... Derek?", Stiles called out faintly from out in the garden.
"What?", Derek shouted back, wondering if he would have to get up from his nap time on the couch.
"I kind of cut myself... Could you, uh, come please? I'm not feeling so well..."
Derek frowned to himself as he rose from the couch, hurriedly making his way out the back porch, catching a glimpse of Stiles' brown mess of hair behind the rose bushes.
"What are you doing?", he asked as he rounded the high, thorny plants.
Stiles was sitting on the ground looking pale, staring at his own outstretched hand, where a drop of blood slowly trailed its way down his forefinger. "I think I'm bleeding out", Stiles stated dazedly.
Derek sighed, a little exasperated, but couldn't help a soft smile.
"Don't be ridiculous", he told Stiles, but stretched out his hand to him. "Come on. Let's get you inside so I can put your torn body together again."
"Don't you mock me, big guy! I am wounded over here", Stiles pouted, even as he let himself get pulled up and gently dragged into the house.
After Derek had rinsed the blood off of Stiles' finger and wrapped it in a tissue, he went to the bathroom to fetch a band aid. When he came back, Stiles was curled up on the couch, looking at Derek with big, brown, deer eyes.
"Feel better?", Derek asked with a small smirk.
Stiles narrowed his eyes at him, stretched out his finger. "Actually, yes", the younger man said fake defiantly. "And it might get even better once you finally put that damn band aid on", he added, with a familiar glint in his eyes.
"Oh, yeah?", Derek inquired, sitting down on the couch beside Stiles, smirk growing. "Better for you or for me?", he continued, as he pulled away the tissue and gently put the real bandage on. Derek didn't let go of his boyfriend, though, instead taking his whole hand into his. Stiles winded their fingers together.
"For both", he determined, smiling sweetly and leaning forward, not so subtly looking at the older man's lips.
Derek, unable to ever resist this enticing guy - who had actually chosen to become his - met him halfway, capturing Stiles' soft mouth with his own.
Derek didn't think either of them would ever get tired of kissing each other. Every time was as good as a first, whether it be soft, passionate, slow or urgent, sloppily making out or just a light peck. They just never could get enough.
As they kissed, Stiles smiled against his lips, and Derek leaned back a little, just to look at him.
Dragging a hand through Stiles' hair and down to rest at the side of his neck, Derek asked: "How did you even manage to cut yourself?", a little puzzled now that he actually though about it.
"Well. I was trying to cut the rose bushes a little, you see, I've read a lot about how you need to cut to keep them a decent size, not to let them grow too big. You know, and I read about how to go about cutting the twigs. But the damn twig wouldn't come off, so I tried to wiggle it loose with my left hand while I was cutting with the garden clipper, and then suddenly there was just a lot of blood", Stiles rambled. Looking at Derek, his expression clouded a little.
"Hey! Don't laugh!", he exclaimed. "I was almost dying out there!", although a smile was creeping onto his face, unstoppable, while he spoke.
At that, Derek couldn't hold back his chuckle. Letting it out, he ducked to the side as Stiles halfheartedly swatted at him with his good hand.
"Keep laughing, you heathen! But you wouldn't have been so happy if you had lost me, you can't deny that."
"Not denying it", Derek smiled, ducking his head. As if that would lessen the butterflies he still got in his stomach, from the stupid grin he knew Stiles was sending in his direction. He was still so ridiculously in love with the guy.
The older man couldn't resist looking almost immediately again, though, loving how his boyfriend's whole face was lit up, just by watching him.
Stiles leaned in and kissed Derek again, pressing his whole body against Derek's heat and muscles, never really getting close enough. He threaded his fingers through the man's hair, when Derek moved lower and pressed his face against the crook of Stiles' neck, stubble rasping pleasantly. Stiles closed his eyes with a content sigh.
"I love you, you big mountain man. Even when you mock me. Which is all the time, so I think that says a lot."
Derek huffed out a breath against Stiles' neck, his lips tickling as he spoke:
"I love you, too, idiot."
**Author's Note:**
> I welcome critisism - anything to help improve my writing! - but not hate of any kind. | f475113082d0462a954ab18bdb033980 | ['53b405a7c3dd43418d39c7181496a5cb'] | And so I went and let you blow my mind
**Author's Note:**
> This is my first ever try at writing porn, so be gentle. (It's not as much a fic as it is a drabble.) Hope you enjoy!
When finally Chris and Peter catch Kate they take her to a warehouse-ish basement where they keep her captured. Allison finds out and goes there only to find her aunt naked with hands bound behind her back, but otherwise free.
Not that Kate seems keen on running, where Chris is instructing Peter how to tease her with caressing touches, light clawing, twisting her nipples and finally fingering her open where she's already wet and wanting. As it is Kate, Peter isn't being all that gentle, but that's how they all like it.
Finally fucking inside her, Peter growls in his throat, but it isn't loud enough to mask Allison's moan and Chris looks straight into her wide eyes.
Peter keeps fucking Kate while Chris strips Allison down, constanly "accidently" brushing her already perked nipples and placing teasing kisses on her face and neck. Allison can't stop watching how her aunt moans while taking Peters cock, harsh as his thrusts are. Peter comes, creaming Kate's cunt in white and pulling out slowly, only to finger out his come, pushing his wet fingers into Kate's ass. By now Chris is mercilesssly teasing/edging Allison, who is panting and watching Peter and Kate with blown pupils.
Chris is playing with Allison's nipples and grinding his hard cock against her ass. Allison wishes it was her that got to be fucked by the werewolf. Kate comes and Peter pulls his fingers out of her ass, meeting Allison's gaze with red eyes. When Peter stalks over to stand in front of Allison he starts playing with her nipples, harsher than her dad, who is now easing his fingers into her cunt, but she arches into it. "Fuck me", Allison breathes. Peter smirks and reaches down with one hand. "What was that?" He asks in a low crooning voice, dragging clawed fingers down Allison's chest. "Please", she says, and the werewolf fucks two fingers in beside Chris's two already there. Allison pants and widens her legs.
Fastforward a bit and Chris is fucking slowly and firmly into his daughter's warm and wet cunt, while Peter is fingering her asshole. Allison is all panting and begging, and both men are crooning filthy compliments in her ears. After what seems like an eternity Peter at last pushes into her hole, holding her hips tightly and Allison can't hold back her climax anymore. The orgasm comes as a slow, but huge and inevitable wave and it doesn't seem to stop, just barely fading and intensifying her pleasure buzz. Chris and Peter keep fucking into her and it's not like Allison can pretend not to love it. Being pressed between their strong bodies, just letting them take their pleasure in her however they want.
Peter comes before Chris, pounding into Allison and biting her neck. Chris kisses his daughter's pleasure slack mouth and when Peter slows down his thrusts, increases his own until the orgasm rips from him and Allison comes for a third time. The men switch places and Peter ends up knotting Allison's cunt and she loves it. Whining, panting and grinding hard on it, just coming and coming and coming until it seems as if that pleasure buzz is all there is. Allison leans her head back on her daddy's shoulder, panting a barely audible "Come in me, daddy", into Chris's ear and how can he deny his daughter when she begs so prettily?
And then there is just sweat and come and filth and everybody is fucked out and happy.
**Author's Note:**
> If anyone wants to take this "plot" and write something of their own, go right ahead! There needs to be more Chris/Allison/Peter out there. |
71468cdb57d642c1bc873db94756e840 | ['53b52c380a1e44bf8873ed8fd5804b3f'] | Goliath rolled his eyes and Padfoot moved toward the edge of the crate door. The large German Shepherd looked up toward Paul. _You're such the bleeding heart! He better not mess up my room!_
Padfoot looked toward Angela as she giggled and scratched at Goliath's ears...Was she projecting their thoughts to the other? Goliath's thoughts were so clear, so concise...was he an animagus as well?
When the dogs returned, Padfoot watched the dogs as they arrived into the kitchen and ate their dinner of raw chicken. Padfoot licked his lips hungrily. Padfoot got kibble. _Junk food. But it's tasty junk food..._
He watched the old white dog called Gillie and the two girls, Heidi and Timber as well as Goliath eat their chicken after having been asked to wait until all the bowls had been placed on the floor. Heidi, a Keeshond was a smart opportunist and she took the opportunity to steal Timber's single piece of chicken while Timber studied Padfoot with a tilted head. Timber, a small Husky, looked over toward her and pouted. Goliath took the smaller piece of chicken from his bowl, which was larger than the one she had and dropped it on the floor before her. Timber ate it quickly before Heidi had a chance to steal that one too. Gillie wandered around to look for the water bowl, which apparently had been moved every so slightly. Padfoot winced when he realized that dog was blind as he watched the aging dog walk into the cupboard and he wondered if Heidi had ever stolen food from him too?
Angela rubbed Goliath on his back having seen this. "You're such a good boy, Goalie!"
Padfoot rolled his eyes and sighed and huffed when Timer shied up to Goliath and licked his face after he had finished his meal. Goliath looked to Padfoot and raised his head, causing Timber to whine and the large dog lowered his head a bit, still keeping his eyes rested on the visiting dog.
_Awww, she fancies the big, burly bad boy....I know what that feels like, mate. I do!_
Once the dogs were returned to their room, Paul let Padfoot from the crate to get a drink of water, then onto the "training room" for some one-on-one. "Come on bud, let's see what all you know?"
Paul and Padfoot were in the training room for well over an hour. Angela listened in through the closed door. The only conclusion that she could make was that Padfoot was bored. When they returned, she informed her husband as she looked into his eyes...he looked troubled.
"I think you are right hon," he said with a tired voice.
"Huh? What?"
He nodded and rolled his eyes. "Yes, I said it. I think you're right."
"About what?"
"He's smart. In all of my years working with dogs, I don't think I've ever come across a smarter canine." He lowered his voice to a whisper, "he's even smarter than _Goalie!_ "
She shrugged her shoulders as she looked over her shoulder at the visiting dog. "Poor Puppy! I wish I knew what happened to him."
"Still not talking?"
She shook her head. "Nope."
Paul sighed. "Okay. I guess we'll have to go about it the scientific way then?"
Angela eyed her husband over her shoulder as she placed an egg-washed, flour-covered chicken breast into the skillet to fry. When the oil splattered, she returned her attention to the stove and Padfoot snorted. She licked her wrist, then wiped the cloth dishtowel over it and she looked toward the large dog who was admittedly far too large for the crate he was in; the dog had been watching her closely. "Not funny," she muttered to him.
"What's that?"
"I was talking to the dog. I said that it wasn't funny that grease popped up."
"Oh...you okay?"
"Yeah," Angela replied. "You know what _is_ funny though?" She turned to look at her husband. "When I hear him, I hear an English accent!"
Paul rolled his eyes and nodded. "You're such an Anglophile!"
"Well I do!"
Paul shrugged his shoulders. "Ohh-kaaay..."
She sighed hard and opened the oven to check on her sweet potatoes and bread stuffing for the following day's Christmas dinner as Padfoot took in all the yummy scents.
4. Chapter 4
The kitchen was a busy room on Christmas morning. Padfoot was let out into a small yard to do his business and when he was let back in, he found several pieces of raw chicken in his metal bowl. He was ecstatic! When Angela opened the crate to let him out so that he may get a drink of water, he watched her at the stove, stirring the contents of the small sauce pan with intention. He moved to sit beside her and licked her hand. She looked down at the large dog and smiled as she tapped the wooden spoon on the side of the metal pot. Her left hand reached down to rub at the top of his head, causing the dog to lean into her leg, resting his head on her hip; he sighed contentedly.
"I like you too Puppy," she whispered. "I hope you like getting a bath, because you're about to get one!"
Padfoot looked up at her and flattened his ears.
"No bathies? Too bad bud. You've probably got fleas and god forbid, ticks! I don't want those in my house!"
Padfoot whined. | af8fc29c3d8140be9d9774ccce1f85fa | ['53b52c380a1e44bf8873ed8fd5804b3f'] | He nodded and smiled. "You're looking a little rough there, StarBoy," he chuckled.
I groaned at the badly worded pun.
"And a little thin in the skin as well."
I nodded and looked at my hands again and sniffled then wiped at my nose with the sleeve of my coat. "Yeah."
"I went hunting today," he said.
"And you're sharing?"
"Yes. With you, I will share my kill."
"Why would you do that? I'm a human."
"True. And you're still a right foul git too. You're supposed to say, thank you."
I grinned and nodded my head. "Probably."
"No probably about it. The moon will be full tonight. Your Moony will be in the Shack. Will you be visiting with him?"
I shook my head. "No."
"Pity. The stars are in the perfect alignment for a reunion. The Great Hunter's Dog will be chasing Loki..."
I shook my head. "I can't. He won't know how to..."
"You mean, you won't know how to handle him without Prongs?"
I nodded finally. "Something like that."
"Did you know that my Herd honored Prongs and his sacrifice during the Samhain feast?"
I smiled. "That's precious. I would have liked to have been there."
"As well as the Grim who locked jaws with the wolf to save the lone and lost colt. You would have been a guest of honor! I remember seeing you and thinking that it was the end for me if you lost the melee. You transformed into your human form and lifted me onto the back of Prongs...how old was I?"
"I remember. You were nearly fifteen and as big as Prongs was! I still have the scar, see?" I moved the collar of my coat and shirt to show him the silvery scar tissue of the Moony-bite. "Thought I was going to turn at the next full moon...we all did."
"And Remus trekked through the woods to offer up his life in service to the Herd..."
I nodded.
"He knows you're here, Sirius. He thinks you're guilty. We have all tried to dissuade him on hunting you down. We all know why you're here."
"Well, so far, he's left me alone. Wait... _you do?_ "
"Of course! It's written in the stars, isn't it!" He held out his long, strong arms and smiled up toward the sky. The centaur tilted his head as he righted his bow on his shoulder. "He _knows where you sleep_ , Sirius."
I felt my blood grow cold as my eyes widened in shock.
"Remus asked that I give you this," he said as he held out a parchment envelope.
My arm involuntarily rose and my fingers grasped onto the envelope, my eyed fixated on it; I realized that I was shaking as I gazed at the familiar penmanship. What could he possibly have to share with me? I saw that Frienze was holding a skinned rabbit toward me.
"Have some breakfast. And take heart old friend. The Canine Brothers will pack together soon. You'll see..."
"What, no pelt!" I chuckled and nodded as I relieved him of the rabbit and nodded. "Thank you," I said.
He grinned as he nodded then turned away. I was always impressed with the magnificence of the Centaurs; usually, they didn't meddle in the affairs of humans, but I had effectively saved this particular stallion and he kept an eye on me...even ran with us on a few occasions and whenever Moony got too close, Prongs and Padfoot intervened. Eventually, the hardheaded and wild Moony had come to realize that these majestic creatures were not _prey_.
"What are friends for," he said as he trotted away.
I yawned at scratched at the back of my head. I moved deeper into the forest and dug a small pit and lit a small fire, then roasted my gift. In my hands, I stared at the envelope. I breathed in deeply and opened the envelope.
_Padfoot,_
_I want you to be know that I am aware that you've been in the castle, attempting to gain entrance into The Tower. You really did a number on the Fat Lady. Her canvas has been repaired, but she's different...for once, she's been at a loss for words, if you can imagine that. Dumbledore has placed Sir Cadogan in her place until further notice. He should offer you a bit of sport...you always did like him, didn't you?_
_You should know that I met with Diana three weeks ago and we spoke at great length about you. We even had to get a room to keep from disturbing Rosemerta's patrons. We argued well into the night to the point where there was a long bout of silence on both our parts--we had exhausted ourselves. She told me that you are hunting Peter. Of course, I didn't believe her and we parted on bad terms. Now, she won't accept any correspondences._
_You're probably thinking, well, why would she, yes?_
_Well, I've come to have a certain artifact in my possession once again and have come to realize that he is indeed alive. I have things that I need to discuss with you. Please don't hide from me old friend...I can help you._
_All for one..._
_Moony_
I gnawed on the bones of the rabbit as I read the letter, wondering if it was a trap. I placed the letter, envelope and all in the pocket of my coat. I withdrew the letter again and unfolded it...he had mentioned an _artifact_...Was he once again in possession of the map?
That would explain how he knew where I was...if Frienze was indeed speaking of him...
____ |
4d35268a764a4eaeb7442f123681eb5d | ['53bd465449c344e6afd24265e6670fb3'] | while he's making sure the teen is going to be comfortable, just in case he wakes up on the way, he's alarmed by a nose behind him. when he turns around, the entire building is disappearing in a manner similar to the one that the other rick had, while his partner walks away from the exit, unharmed. the brightness of it forces rick to squint for a moment, shielding his eyes, arm only dropping once the light dies down. "what happened?" he asks, honestly confused. he'd thought that they would call in someone else, get those three picked up and driven to containment, but this obviously isn't going to be the case.
"same old story. morties killing morties." that's the only answer he gets before the driver's door is shut, and he stares at the ground for a moment before hurrying to his own seat, so they can leave. he sees one morty's expression change when he looks at the other in the backseat, and he can't tell what that was conveying. pity? disgust? does he really not care for the life of his counterpart at all? feeling troubled, rick shuts the door and stares out of the windshield as they drive, no more words passing between them. at least they get to take this kid somewhere that he can be taken care of, get better... at least, that's what rick thinks.
morty, on the other hand, has different plans. there can't be a survivor for this one, not after all the codes they broke today. maybe the rookie wouldn't understand, so he won't explain it, but he knows he'll be thankful later on. the senior officer doesn't mention it as they miss the turn for the hospital, wondering if it'll get pointed out. it doesn't, and he's glad, because he doesn't really feel like explaining. this is tiring work, dragging around someone new, someone so idealistic - just like his last partner. _this is for your own good, rick._ the two drive on in silence, their passenger still as he lies down in the backseat.
2. the wishing portal
lost in thought, rick doesn't even begin to notice that they're driving very far out of the way. thinking they probably won't get into much more today, he's taken it upon himself to worry solely about the morty in the backseat. ironically, his concerned daze is exactly what's allowing his partner to drive them away from the help that the civilian needs so desperately. despite all of his training at the academy, rick isn't good with the whole taking care of people thing. in his universe, he never had a beth - he was never even married. he'd never imagined having a family until he was invited to the citadel, and even then, iit hadn't really sounded all that great to him, aside from the whole cloaking device thing that morties offered. it had always seemed wrong to him, using any kid for something like that, so he'd never tried to get a morty for himself. wanting to help the citadel, he'd applied to be a cop instead. the job is already harder than he thought ite'd be, but in his opinion, no real rick would ever give up (not that he's a prime example of most ricks, but the point still stands).
"we're here," morty says plainly, forcing rick to pay attention again. although this gives him a temporary twinge of annoyance, it soon fades, first replaced with the flood of feelings he has thanks to their situation, and then with... confusion. this isn't the hospital, nor is it anything close.
for a few moments, his mouth won't work. "isn't this... isn't this place for garbage disposal?" it's not like he's ever been to one, but he's familiar with the concept - the waste from the citadel is tossed into a portal, dropped off at go -know -where to beoome somebody else's problem. that really does sound like a rick thing; maybe not him, but other ricks? definitely other ricks.
"you really do make the best observations, rookie," morty snaps sarcastically as he stands, puncuating the final word with a slam of the car door. before rick can comprehend what's going on, the back door is open and shut as well, the two acts broken apart by the simple, uncaring way that one morty drags the other out of the backseat, hoisting him easily. feels like this one doesn't eat much, and that's what he absently thinks about as he turns and marches towards the mainenance entrance. this is where rick regains his senses and scrambles out after him, having no trouble catching up with his long legs. is this what mothers feel like when their kids do something dangerous: apprehensive and jittering with anxiety?
"what are we doing? why here?"
he doesn't get an answer, silenced with a glare, but he really does want (and need) to trust this morty... for now, he'll give him the benefit of the doubt, walking by his side as they move into the facility. finally, he gets something out of the other, but it isn't what he was expecting. "morties - they call this the wishing portal."
rick still thinks it's strange how his partner keeps disowning his morty status, but he's going to have to look past it for right now. "the wishing portal?"
"yes, rick. the wishing portal. they say if you throw something important in here, you'll be granted a wish."
"and... will you?"
"of course not," morty scoffs. "i thought you were a damned rick, rookie." rick wonders, for just a second, if this morty ever did believe in this thing. or has he always been this way? he's starting to seem like even more of a rick than he is, and that doesn't make it any easier to grit his teeth and pretend he hadn't heard the last remark. | 0562eb3dd68d419fa7dabe8e3173c55e | ['53bd465449c344e6afd24265e6670fb3'] |
Relapse
Whenever Sam misses the demon blood, his _nectar_ , he tells himself he merely misses the concept of saving the possessed. He tells himself that he wishes he could get rid of demons without murdering innocent people, he tells himself that he is justified in thinking this way and he was always doing what he did for all of the right reasons. Oh, he can tell himself whatever he'd like, and he certainly abuses that power. But, deep down, he knows the truth. He knows that he wants to drink the blood again because it made him stronger, and he knows that his desire to be more powerful than anyone is the only real reason that he had ever considered it in the first place. Does he blame Ruby for exposing him to it? Yes, but he knows that he's at just as much fault as he is. He absolutely despises himself for it, too, and he understands why his brother seems to feel exactly the same way.
However, he wishes that Dean would trust him just a little bit more. He knows that he messed up, terribly. And he isn't asking for anyone's forgiveness - he doesn't think he ever could - he just wishes that he could find a way to regain an ounce of the trust that he once knew. But he feels certain that he never will, and that certainty feels like a knife, driving its way deeper into his heart every time he remembers that it's there. So, he avoids it by telling himself he is trustworthy. He avoids it by telling himself that his older brother is overreacting, that he's not going to fall back into old habits. Sam really does tell himself a lot of things.
He's well aware that Dean hadn't really trusted him to go out here, with all of those demons running around - who knows how many he'll just start to drink dry, right? But he'd forced the older Winchester to back down for a bit, and he now finds himself in this small convenience store, searching for salt. It's not familiar enough for him to locate what he needs with ease or accuracy, but he almost feels like it should be. Living on the road like he always has, he's spent almost too much of his life, and money, in these places. Aside from organization, they're all the same, and they bleed together. He's yet to find one that truly stands out in his memory and, although he's here for a demon-related reason, he feels certain that this won't be a different case. Why would it be?
The hunt for salt to keep the demons away is brought to a halt when he spots someone ahead - looks like a teenager, but Sam feels certain that there's more to it. He has to be sure, and he knocks something off of the nearest shelf, standing in wait while the other jumps and pivots. Black eyes. The demon charges, and Sam has to fight back, ending their brief scuffle with a stab to the throat. He doesn't have time to reflect, catching a glimpse of another figure coming at him in the nearest reflective surface. Turning around a second before it's too late, this one goes even faster, falling onto the ground next to his comrade. Panting, Sam stands a little straighter, hazel eyes clearing after a bout of mindless violence. At first, his biggest concern is the fact that he just killed two kids. Two kids, kids who he knows he could have saved, once.
Then, his eyes fall upon the blood.
It seems to him that they're bleeding too much, as if they decided to do this post-mortem in order to taunt him. Maybe he cut where he knew he would draw this much, subconsciously, but he refuses to even bring the thought up in his mind. There isn't much to think about, anyways, his entire psyche consumed by a word and all of his personal connotations for it: blood, blood, blood. That's all there is. Crimson spreads across the tiled floor, and he lifts the knife before his face, watching it drip off of the edge. Without thinking, the hunter gleans some off of the metal, using his thumb. It's on his skin, now, liquid power right before him, and that is the point where all logical reasoning evades him. Everything that happened between Dean finding out about this and the moment that he's living right now, none of it matters. The only thing that matters is the pain in his gut that's screaming at him, telling him he needs it. He needs it, and it's the only thing he needs.
Sam's body feels like it's moving without his consent, yet, he makes no move to stop it. He sucks the blood off of his finger, first, like a child searching for solace. The rest comes off of the knife, directly, throwing caution to the wind and not caring if he cuts his tongue. For a moment, the taste is alien, not right; but, after that, it's familiar and powerful and his craving is being fulfilled, but it isn't enough. There wasn't enough there, so he remedies that, dropping to the ground and sucking from the source, desperately lapping up the liquid just like a dirty vampire would. Is there really any difference? Sam looks like he's enjoying an experience that's almost orgasmic, like he forgot how it felt, absorbing something so sweet and strong and feeling all of that energy. In fact, he thinks he had. Or, he would, if he were thinking anything at all. He feels like he could stay right here forever, the previous incident with the stuff leaving his mind entirely. More. The more, the better.
But a small noise snaps him out of the dull trance, and he looks up, swaying despite the fact that he's leaned down to get more from the body. The sound is as familiar as always, a door opening, jingling a small bell as it completes the operation. Simple, but right now, it shoots terror through Sam's veins. He's terrified because his brother is right there; his big brother, staring at him like he's some kind of freak, a monster. And he is, he is, but he isn't thinking clearly right now. Not thinking, not thinking, not thinking. "Dean," the younger brother says, mouth moving on its own accord. Nothing can get him out of this, blood dripping from his lips and down his chin, soaking and seeping through his shirt. "Dean, let me explain-"
This time, he flinches, watching the door slam shut. No words. They weren't needed, but Sam still doesn't want to interpret the silence, merely kneeling on the gore-stained floor and staring at the empty doorway. He messed up. He's messed up one time too many, and right now just happened to be the worst possible time. There's no more room for forgiveness and he should know that he doesn't deserve it anyways, but he can't. Something stops him, something like bloodlust and addiction thrown into one big, horrific beast. Sam's mind is a mess. Now, be can't think. All he does is stare, and stare, and stare, oblivious to the world around him.
After an indescriminate amount of time, something hits his head, hard, and he falls down even harder, gladly obliging to unconsciousness. |
7ce544a70fed4352816734ece63243cb | ['53c8118c7fa3423e8cf5d8d89147e65e'] |
Blooming Rain
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> A short story for my friend Lost. At some point in time, she asked me to write out a plunny for her. I agreed. One full year later, I finally buckled down on a whim and wrote a proper-sized story. In one day. Possibly my first ever one shot that has stayed such.
>
> There have been requests for sequels, but nothing planned as of yet.
Part 1 - Annoyances
_If that blithering idiot rings that buzzer one more time, I'm going to sedate him until he's released._
Haruno Sakura felt the muscles under her left eye twitch as the obnoxious tone of her pager sounded _again_. Seated in her office, finally making headway into a backlog of two days of paperwork, the pink-haired doctor groaned.
Her latest patient was being a royal pain. He sniffed at the food—which she really couldn't blame him for—and complained quietly about everything and anything, via buzzer. When the nurses came to check on him, he demanded to know when he would be clear to leave. Never mind that there was a cast on his right leg from ankle to mid-thigh. When given the same answer repeatedly, he would ring the bell and argue with whoever arrived. After a few hours of repeat performances, the interns had begun implementing a selection system involving straws, pennies, and Styrofoam cups of Kool-aid. Apparently, it had something to do with bravery, luck, and bad reflexes. Sakura hadn't bothered to ask.
Princess had arrived three hours past midnight yesterday, making this his second night here. Carried in, barely conscious, by two other men, he was a mess of scraped skin, blooming bruises, and a tibia that threatened to break through. Unfortunately for the so-called Raven, just because he was a skateboarding adrenaline junky didn't make him impervious to mortality.
Dr Senju Tsunade had yanked Sakura into surgery to assist, and the—then new and exciting—patient was cleaned, put back together, and dropped into a waiting bed. The procedure was simple, easy even, and was done without a hitch.
The pager sounded again and the electronic melody seemed to bounce around her head, hitting certain spots between her temples.
Sakura growled in her patient's general direction and imagined that the little aloe vera plant, a thank you gift from Lee, wilted just a tad.
Grumbling about pampered, egotistical, semi-famous imbeciles, Sakura reached out and grabbed her coffee mug. Only to discover the brew was now stone cold and stale.
"Aarrggh!"
For a moment, she considered leaving her paperwork for a fresh cup, but likely the second she emerged from the room, she would be tackled by half the staff and probably all of the interns.
Tsunade had laughed at the suffering faces when she walked into the hospital earlier that evening and had pointed at her protégé. Never before had Sakura hated responsibility so much until that moment.
It was inconceivable! How the fuck did one stuck up annoyance turn her floor into his personal whipping ground?
Snarling, she pushed back her chair and stood. One Uchiha was not going to stop her from caffeine.
Her hand was two inches from the door knob when a knock came from the other side.
"Sakura-chan?"
_Oh, this can't be good_. Sakura scowled before opening the door. "Shizune-san?"
The older woman on the other side of the door winced at the younger's expression. "Sorry, but—"
" _Tell her to get her ass over to Princess' room before I shove him through a window!_ " bellowed from down the hall.
"—Ah," Shizune paled and gave Sakura a pained smile before stepping back into the hall. "Tsunade-san really shouldn't be calling him that when there are others around!"
" _It's my hospital! I'll call my patients what they deserve!_ "
Sighing, Sakura rubbed her right temple as Shizune grimaced and shook her head. "I know we are healers, Shizune-san, but with that idiot, I just want him _gone_." Oh Kami, she was _whining_ now.
"I know, I know," the other woman soothed. "Just, please, deal with him before Tsunade breaks him further."
Sakura took a deep fortifying breath and squared her shoulders. Handing her mug to her superior, she stretched her lips into a professional smile. "Could you dump that out for me please? If I take it with me, Princess may end up wearing it."
xXx
"Uchiha-san."
"Haruno-san."
She looked at him, propped up in the bed, covered with pristine white sheets, and allowed herself a slight frown. Hopefully it would be taken as concern rather than annoyance.
"What seems to be the problem?" the young doctor asked, crossing the room to pick up the clipboard at the end of his bed. _Room 301: Uchiha Itachi_ was filled in at the top. In purple ink. _... Alrighty then_.
"I want to leave." His voice never rose, never wavered from his trademarked level tone. Implacable and unruffled as an Uchiha could be, with his lower leg in a plaster and stitches up his left shoulder.
Sakura stifled the urge to snort and glanced down at the charts. Always the same demand. The man didn't seem to have an imagination. "Nothing has changed, Uchiha-san."
"And likely won't," he agreed. "I doubt there will be any future complications. However, my recuperation would be faster in the proper comfort of my own home."
The medic shook her head. "We can't risk that," she told him. Again. "If there's infection from exposure, we need to have you here for immediate treatment. Surgery was less than a day ago, Uchiha-san." She placed the charts back on the bed and waited.
"My family has a doctor on call at all hours," he reminded her.
_And a poor sap he must be,_ Sakura thought, thinking of old Shiroku. Granted, he was also an Uchiha, but still—talk about slavery to family obligations.
"He doesn't have a hospital nor is it practical to move you from this one yet." | d7951a54c44d41e5aff0d6a2510dac1c | ['53c8118c7fa3423e8cf5d8d89147e65e'] | It didn’t take very long for the woman to implement her first bid for freedom. And really, she didn’t surprise Hidan either. He had told her to try after all.
His cloak she wore flew up into his face, wrapped around his throat and tightened. He had a mere moment to give a shout, and then he was thrown to the ground, a jagged pointy something introducing itself to his already abused flesh.
He wasn’t ashamed of the yelp he gave, but he did feel a little sorry for Hinata. If she had just run, they would have had a hunt through the woods and maybe a little tussle at the end. By felling him…
Hinata’s choked gasp was almost predictable.
Untangling the cloth from his head, Hidan lifted the make-shift trap away to see his partner holding his woman by the throat. “Hinata meet Kakuzu,” the smug zealot drawled. “Heartless bastard, Jashin’s gift.”
Kakuzu grunted and let go of Hinata.
She sprawled out next to Hidan, white and red limbs everywhere. Biting her lip, Hinata massaged her neck, and he found that he just couldn’t tear his eyes away from her movements. Not even to note how her chest… Okay yes, now he was looking. Fuck, she had a perfect rack.
Snickering, Hidan got up off the tangle of roots. “Fucking pathetic for a first try, Hinata.”
She only pressed her lips together and rose to her feet, graceful even when smudged with mud and blood. When he held out the cloak, Hinata stared at it for a moment, eyes narrowed.
“Being cynical is a good trait,” he said with a grin, a flick of his wrist sending the cloth out to her in an unfurling bundle.
Her bruised hand snapped out, batting the cloak aside into a nearby bush. “I won’t wear your colours,” she hissed.
Hidan rolled his eyes. _Woman's got her priorities twisted_. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, reeling her in, one spitting, wrenching, struggling hazardous inch at a time. By the time he had her hanging in front of him, she had given him another two good hits to the chest and forearm. Too bad for her, his tap to her stomach had her wheezing.
“If you don’t like the colours, Hinata, wear it inside out,” he told her. “I don’t fucking care. Just remember you’re naked, in the rain, and walking to a camp belonging to me and him.”
If she got hypothermia, she had little hope of leeching enough warmth from the fire alone… Actually… It would almost be a sin _not_ to share a bed with her then.
Hidan grinned as he let her down slowly. “Never mind. Forget the fucking clothes. I’d rather watch your ass.”
Shaking off his hand, Hinata frowned at him, then twisted to look at the cloth on the thicket. Her hands curled into fists.
“With all that temptation, I might even do something I’ve been itching to do,” he added, just to see her svelt body stiffen. The promise of a night of sleep didn’t mean he couldn’t molest her on the way to camp.
The low growl she gave caused him to take a half-step forward—he wanted to see her face. If the verbal alone was that arousing, how powerful would the complete delivery be?
But Hinata whirled around, one hand dipping to pull the heavy cloak from the brush and the other knifing through the air between them.
They paused for a moment, one pale nin staring at the other. He smirked; she narrowed her eyes. No, he hadn’t been reaching out for her.
‘I win,’ he mouthed at her.
And then he got his wish, a full frontal view of her lip lifting and her brows curling down as a frustrated snarl rolled out. _Hot damn, and fuck_.
Somehow, he lost track of one moment or two, because when he resurfaced, Hinata was thrashing and screaming between him and a tree trunk, her hair wound tight around his clutching fingers.
He was panting. The edges of his vision flickered white and red as his torso twisted and bucked with the force of her struggles. He had forced Hinata around; her front was pressed to the tree. His left arm was wedged between her stomach and the bark, pinning her arms to her sides; his right wrapped around her shoulder, forearm tight across her collarbone, hand forcing her slender throat to bend back—like this he could _see_ her hot eyes and snarling lips.
“Let go of me!” Oh yeah, and she really didn’t like her new position.
Letting out a startled wheezing laugh, Hidan shook his head. “Not a fucking chance. You’re too much fun.”
Then she let out another furious cry, elbowed him _in the ribs_ —fucking rain and slippery skin—and shoved him back as his grip slackened. She hesitated though when he started to laugh in earnest.
“See?” he managed to get out between gasps, sweeping his hair away from his eyes as he grinned.
Exhaustion, confusion, and desperation flowed across her pale features, but when he didn’t advance, her expression firmed. “You’re sick.”
Coughing once, Hidan spat to the side, noting the traces of red. “Uh uh. I’m perfectly healthy.” Which, considering he had a chest full of cracked and shattered bone, was an obvious lie, but that wasn’t what she meant anyway.
Hinata took a step to the side, away from the tree. Away from him. “Let me go,” she repeated, chakra sputtering to life again.
One corner of his mouth twitched up. He probably did look a little broken. A man with white skin gone angry dark blue and purple. He swiped fingers over his mouth and smirked at the blood. Yeah, but as beaten as he looked, she was a sight that would urge any man to hold on: chest heaving, eyes flashing, determination and will evident in every line of her body. |
729978c965374fd78945f21f49cb8864 | ['53fbecfe01ae4fbea2951360d1ad9b2b'] | “It’s only me. I heard the mutt and presumed you were awake.” A ball of tight air left her throat as her stomach sank back down. “Um, would you like some coffee?” Danse prattled, caught off guard by her drawn pistol, his own hand raced back to briefly skim the full stock of his laser rifle. The corners of his mouth tipped ever so diligently into a smile, and every negative perception she had awoken with that morning disappeared into a smile of her own. She stirred back to reality as Dogmeat brushed past her legs, soft fur nestling against her bare legs as he sat on her feet, a small chuckle leaving her throat in bemusement.
“Well, if you could be so kind and bring it over. I’m immobilized by cute sloberpuss here.” She earned a small hum of approval as she settled on watching his frame bend down to collect the sugar from below the counter (Courtesy of having a big dog who inhales bags of sugar left on top because he can reach it.) “Did you sleep well?” She brought her hand to the back of her neck to scratch a small itch, eyes wandering lazily to take in the living room, devoid of any new dust and tidied to the point she’ll never find that goddamn eyebot model ever again. “Never mind, you were busy.” A rough sigh left her lips, hands dramatically placed on her sides. “Still not sleeping? Jesus, Danse.”
The Paladin leant back in the counter with a frown that could deter even Elder Maxson. Reciprocally crossing his arms almost religiously he let out a deep sigh for the upteenth time, eyes grown tired and mouth agape, ready to come back with an argument they both really didn’t need. before he was interrupted by Deacon.
“He’s not Jesus. He’s a synth. God get it right woman.” Sole felt the smirk ingrained into her skull as she squinted awkwardly towards the window the slow beginnings of morning peeking up across the earth, Deacon leaning over the withered wood with his head on his hands. “You both already sound like an old married couple. It’s disgusting” The mockery laced in his tone used to anger Sole, but it’s grew on her. More charming than anything. Especially in the Commonwealth when all you had were mercenaries and sarcastic drug addict Ghouls. Hancock. She means Hancock.
The same couldn’t be said for the Paladin, she watched his fists clench and his posture straighten at the intrusion, a fire beckoned at this tongue with stress daring to pull at his body. “For the love of God, it’s 4am, Deacon.” Sole digressed, intervening before she had a dead man on her doorstep. Scooting her feet slowly out from under the dog, she almost cantered towards the set of cupboards the Synth was perched at. “So do us a favour, and fuck off for three hours.” It was her turn to beam at the genuine surprise of both before Deacon gave a shit eating grin, waving his hand in the air.
“Alright my dude. I only came over to tell you that Dez needs me. Come collect me from the pound when you next require my awesome company.” And as soon as he appeared, he was gone. The half-repaired blinds falling back down to block them from the outside world, a small dent in the one seeming to aggravate Danse’s need for straight. A dull, airless silence fell over them before Danse placed an arm around Sole’s waist.
“I don’t mean to worry you. I’ll try harder to sleep tonight.” It was brief, not exactly the apology of the year. But Sole took it. She took it with a light heart and silently agreed with herself that arguing won’t help. They both knew this would take some time. He would take some time. And they had built up enough respect to give each the benefit of the doubt. Without hesitation Danse pulled Sole in to gently place a chaste kiss on the side of her neck, her unbrushed hair tickling his nose carelessly. She let out a small laugh, hands coming up to bat his head away in embarrassment.
“Stop it,” She laughed, not sounding convincing at all. The giggle seeming to increase as he buried his face into her neck again, nuzzling gently as he blew a raspberry in the crease of her shoulder blade. “Danse,” She jested again, hands rising to smoothly link behind his neck. They stood like that for a second, a soft laughter between them before he unanticipatedly rested his head on her shoulder. Not saying a word. On spur of the moment she felt an odd ache in her heart, a sudden longing, the secrets in her mind were like flowers in a garden at night. It filled the darkness with perfume with such sweetness and naiveness. “ _I love you_.” It dripped off her tongue so sweet, but felt a sin so wrong under this roof in Sanctuary.
There was a short pause where her heart hammered into her bone cage, a self fabricated anxiety stitched to her lips. “ _I love you too_.” It was barely audible but the words washed the tides temper away from her blood as she fell back to earth, mind suddenly acutely aware of his close proximity. A new restlessness bellowed up in her stomach as he hummed under his breath. “I love you so goddamn much that it hurts.” He burrowed his head against her skin, gristly stubble of his beard grazing ever so slightly.
The Paladin’s calloused hands shook mildly, lowering them to lay placid on her hips as his fingertips drummed lightly there. “I feel like human nature makes me weak.” | b454ba2b770f4956976ad8b3e0f0a2a8 | ['53fbecfe01ae4fbea2951360d1ad9b2b'] |
1. I'm on fire
**Author's Note:**
> I wrote this at 3am esteemed on energy drinks and I kinda like it? Inspired song || Awolnation - I'm on fire
>
> My LINK
> My LINK
>
> Update: next drabble will be smutty ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
“I told you it was snowing too hard, sir.” Your hands crossed across your chest with undashed favour as you tried not to sound snide in your remark. “But one more warehouse it was.” Heat blossomed across your cheeks in a mix of anger and the warmth of the fire to your right. There were a light shining in his eyes although it didn’t match with his step as he wandered to the desk in the far corner. Nimble hands working to light the lantern on the desk, cursing lightly as he spilt wax on his papers.
“Oh, and I guess the short break was needed too?” Haytham let out a tired sigh, fingers pinching his temples as you watched his hunched form over the desk, no doubt writing an apology letter to William. “And the need to take down more soldiers than necessary. In which I need to inform the others about.” You didn’t pay any mind to his sneer and walked past, your mouth felt dry as you felt something akin to guilt rise in your gut.
“Well, we’re here now.” You said, shifting on your feet uncomfortably, melted snow laced your soles and you were itching to take them off. “ Do you mind?” You asked, slowly fiddling at the lace on the boots, waiting for his word.
“By all means, we’ll be here a while. Might as well dry out.” Haytham turned around fully and eyed you up almost judgingly, “My apologies for knocking you off of the roof.” The corner of his mouth rose diligently, he swallows thickly and presses his lips into a thin line.
“Well, i’m sorry too.” You swallowed a small chuckle.
“For what, dare I ask?”
“You’ll find out.”
“I don’t like games.”
“Well you’re stuck here with me, sir. I would get used to it.” Your hands scratched your elbow - noticing the small scrapes along the outer joint as you exaggeratingly stretched out. “I’m gonna nap.” A smile tugged at your lips as your feet ran more on motor memory than actual effort themselves towards the bed. Every bone in your body were protesting and you suddenly regretted being caught of guard earlier.
“I think i’ve done something to my shoulder, sir.” You mumbled as you flopped down on the mattress heavily, giving in to sensation of drowsiness. “I’m gonna make you pay insurance for that.” A light joke to break the silence.
“Like i’m not paying you enough.”
“You’re not paying me at all.”
A heavy sigh heaved from his throat as he rose to his feet, blank expression as he looked your way. “Let me have a look, it’s the least I can do.” A snort came from the bed as you sat up, eyes curiously eyeing the Templar. You was surprised to find him messily rolling his sleeves up, his jacket and waistcoat hung neatly across the back of the chair. Taking a deep breath you realised this is the most disheveled she’d ever seen him.
“Charles isn’t going to be happy. And Pitcairn anymore so.” You clicked your neck to the side as you mindlessly massaged your left shoulder. “I landed on it funny I think. Or it was when you literally fell on me.” You grinned when his tongue clicked in annoyance. You loved eliciting these small hints of human out of him.
“Not to sound crude, but will you lower your shirt, my dear?”
“At least take me to dinner first.” You laughed half heartedly, fingers untying your cravat slowly. “I didn’t know you knew anything about medical care.” Your tone softened as you looked up, surprised to find his eyes still locked on your face rather than the small peeks of skin of your collarbone.
“I don’t.” His reply was short, and you suddenly felt almost offended he wasn’t taking up this opportunity to ogle you. Eyes darkened as your fingers moved to the buttons of your blouse - a stupidly fit shirt that The Grand Master made you wear to formal meetings. “Not much anyway.”
“Oh how comforting, sir.” You rolled your eyes and continued undressing - taking it slow while you drank up his gaze, his hazy grey eyes watching like always. You then suddenly realised everything about you was made to be hidden from his keen eye. Every breath you took needed to be in place so he doesn’t sense irregularity. It had become a sixth sense to you to keep still and stoic.
“So,” You were getting uncomfortable under his watch as he sat between your legs compliantly, hands pressing against your shoulders firmly. His grip held vigor but wasn’t enough to indicate any real threat. “This room only has one bed.” Any conversation at this point was welcome, your focus going from his steady breathing to the small slivers of his chest available through his half unbuttoned shirt. When did he undo those?
“I’ll take the comforter.” Was all that came out as his right hand roughly pulled at your aching shoulder, a small yelp leaving your throat. “It’s dislocated, how on earth where you still fine riding a horse back here.” It was more a statement than a question, and you didn’t have the energy to reply. The only thing between you were cloth and heat- such intoxication making you feel drunk in his presence. Like you could mold into his very essence of living. |
22449af417ce43f4a4caa495b23cc582 | ['541170704c764d3f98648fbceed54825'] | “What, like fighting fires?” She jostled his shoulder with a grin. Perhaps being a fire fighter had finally paid off…
“No, a little sister.” He muttered. He wondered if he should even tell her. He’d generally avoided it with every other girl that came into his life because he knew he wouldn’t want them sticking around.
“Hmm, nah, I’m not a serial killer. Just missing dick and I’m presuming you have one.” She shrugged. “So, there’s a cool hidden cocktail bar in the city if you want to make the trip, or we can just go back to my place? I’m damn good at mixing drinks.”
“You make a good point. Have you got mint? I’m a fan of mojitos.” He grinned down at her, settling into the idea of going home with this loud girl while she pulled forward on his arm.
“I actually live down this way so we’re all good!” They walked under the railway bridge plastered with gig posters while a train headed over, drowning out their conversation. They crossed the road next to an empty pub in silence.
“Are the trains annoying?” he asked suddenly. Two years in the city and he could hardly deal with the rattling trams a few streets over.
“Nah, I grew up near the trains in Footscray so I’m pretty used to them. Where are you from?”
“In the country. Do you want me to give more details?” He laughed at the slight fear on her face.
“I’ve been to the country about twice. Does Werribee count as country?” She laughed back. “My mum was… a pretty shit mum, but my neighbours took me to the Werribee zoo once.” She frowns and scuffs her shoes along. Bellamy carefully chooses to ignore the mum comment.
“I’ve never even been to the zoo. I think my sister went once with primary school.”
“You’re not missing out on much, but the meerkats are really cute.” She smiled and grinned up at the grotty building next to them. “This is my place. Well, the top floor.” She lived above a very seedy looking nail salon, in a building directly across from the station. The lock looked almost rusted over and the security door was industrial looking. The door swung cleanly, though, and Bellamy closed the door behind him before following Raven’s narrow swinging hips up the worn stairs.
Bellamy stood near the door and gazed about. Her little flat was barely sized above a bedsit. The kitchen/ living room area had way more wire and wheels in it that was safe. He looked around and saw her red bedspread through the open door. He was unsure about how he ended up here so quickly, but new he wanted to be here.
“So, mojitos is it?” Raven brought him out of his stare-fest as she started slapping her cocktail maker on the table. She gestured at the seat next to the table. “Sit.”
Bellamy never thought making a cocktail could be so seductive. She slid behind him and touched his chest before grabbing mint and limes out of her fridge. Shaking the cocktails only made her hips swing almost seductively and Bellamy noticed how toned her stomach was. He lifted her shirt slowly to trace her hipbones and stomach while she poured the drinks.
“Thankfully my girlfriend loves these cocktails so I have all the ingredients.” She joked. He dropped his hand.
“Is it weird you bought me home?” He asked bluntly, going to take a sip and almost groaning at the best home made cocktail he had ever tasted.
“Nah, we’re very open. Honestly we love each other, but dicks are great too and we’re very good at communicating. Like I told her I was taking a guy back tonight and she just said she wants the details tomorrow.” Raven shrugged, running her fingers over his buzz cut and looking intently at his face. She was still standing above him, with her sharp hips near his mouth.
“That sounds nice.” He mused and sipped at his drink. “As long as I’m not … being that guy.”
“We actually met because we were dating the same jerk guy who thought he could get away with juggling two girls and not telling us.” She finished her drink quickly and he knew these cocktails were just an excuse. “Hurry up with that drink, I want to see how good you are at eating pussy.”
Bellamy almost chocked on a mint leaf.
\--
The next morning Raven made him tea and tried to make them breakfast out of one banana, yoghurt and those breakfast biscuits. It was surprisingly successful. She told him the story of her leg – her stupid ex-boyfriend, the one that had cheated on both her and her girlfriend, had managed to flip his motorbike on both of them, partially paralysing her when her spine was crushed. She has most feeling back in her body now, just her knee and below was the issue.
Octavia text Bellamy at around 10am telling him she was going over to a friend’s place. Raven took that as a sign to make out some more after such a depressing discussion. Bellamy was in the process of going down on Raven while she lay on the couch when the front door creaked open.
“Clarke!” Raven squeaked, shoving Bellamy away. “I didn’t think you’d come over so early.” Raven laughed while she stood up and pulled her shorts up. Bellamy tried to wipe is his face off on his discarded shirt while wrapping his mind around Clarke being here – being Raven’s girlfriend.
“No worries babe. Oh my god, is that Bellamy?” Clarke laughed while kissing Raven loudly. “He saved my studio when it was on fire! And he’s the one I’ve been having coffees with. Bellamy, come give me a hug.” Clarke walked over and embraced him softly. He tried to angle his body to keep his rapidly reducing boner away from her. | 2cbcbdac1e574d4ba3380e7bca5d3b9b | ['541170704c764d3f98648fbceed54825'] | “This is to close for home.” Bellamy admitted when Clarke released him. He sank into the couch. “I know you two are really open and all but I feel like… a dog truly.”
Clarke and Raven laughed. “No! Don’t feel like that!” Raven exclaimed and moved over to sit next to him.
“We’ve been through that all before and this is nothing like that.” Clarke patted his short hair. “Trust us, we know each other very well and we know the boundaries.”
“I was going to ask Raven out though,” Bellamy sighed and dropped his head into his hands. “And I would have asked Clarke out ages ago if she didn’t keep casually mentioning a girlfriend. I thought I was platonic.” Raven and Clarke kept rubbing his head and shoulders.
“You could… probably still ask us out.” Raven said. Bellamy could almost feel them exchanging looks above him. Clarke hummed in agreement.
Bellamy mused it over in his head while they continued to massage him. He had never entertained the idea of a polyamorous relationship. Of course he’d had fantasies about threesomes – who hadn’t? But as far as he was concerned, having a relationship with more than one person belonged in weird Mormon marriages. But he did like both these girls and he was very attracted to each for different qualities. Although he didn’t know them too well, he did want to know them better. He was definitely leaning towards asking them out.
“If you do ask us out, we’ll talk everything through. Set boundaries and stuff.” Clarke added.
“Okay.” Bellamy sat up. “Would you both like to go out with me?” He said, starring straight ahead. He was unsure which one to look at.
“I would very much like to go out with you.” Raven laughed. “Although not if we’re pretending to be in high school again with all this ‘going-outs’.” Clarke laughed along.
“I agree, I would like to go on some dates with you.” Clarke kissed his cheek. “We could all go together.” He smiled at that idea of them walking along, taking up the footpath with them all holding hands.
\--
Octavia left home when she was 18, moving in with school friends and planning on working fulltime in an art store Clarke set her up with to save up some money for university. It took months of arguments before Bellamy finally relented and gave his permission, to which he would always remember her sharp response of ‘I don’t need that’. She planned on studying primary teaching, and eventually got her degree after another gap year travelling with her boyfriend through South America. Bellamy was originally unsure of Lincoln, Clarke’s studio buddy after Jasper, but Lincoln turned out to be the best person for Octavia, especially with their similar pasts of absent fathers and dead mothers. The way they were able to support each other was beautiful but realistic, such as Bellamy, Clarke and Raven’s relationship was. Octavia loved both of Bellamy’s girlfriends and had accepted their relationship with great ease, which Bellamy was always thankful for.
Bellamy kept working through Octavia’s gap year. He saved money for her years at uni by living with Monty and Miller (they needed a housemate because they were frightened of co-dependency).
Clarke, Raven and Bellamy celebrated their third anniversary in the same dodgy flat Raven still lived in. It was that night, lying amongst blissful breasts and fully sated, that Bellamy decided he wanted to go to uni too. By this stage, both his girlfriends were finished with their schooling and starting their careers, Clarke as anything she could get her hands on (mainly children’s illustrations and medical drawings, as well as dressing galleries). Raven was working at an electrical engineering company sorting out water dam levels until she found work with engines. Bellamy was always jealous of their learning – not what they were learning, because engineering and fine art sounded horrible – but the whole university experience. Plus, Bellamy’s love for ancient Rome was famous and people from every avenue of his life teased him regularly.
The next morning, over a breakfast at a café down the street, Bellamy announced his decision to start university. Clarke and Raven were beyond excited for him, and they pointed out that Octavia didn’t need all of his savings. She was earning her own money on her gap year and could get government support when she was at uni. And they were still renting out their childhood home for extra income after the mortgage was paid off a few years ago. Really, Bellamy and Octavia were comfortable, which was a bizarre concept coming from their poor beginnings where the down payment on that house took years of scrapping together and their mother buying a sewing machine for her work took months of overtime at her shitty supermarket job.
Octavia made him enrol at a different university than the one she had gone to so he could be more independent. He was fine with that. Raising a little sister while he was still young had been difficult too. That didn’t mean the siblings didn’t have coffee mornings and movie nights together at least every week, though. He decided on an ancient history major in his second year and his marks were better than he could ever have hoped for.
Raven and Clarke thought the highlight of his university days was his long mane of hair. After years of having to crew cut it he just let it grow out and each of them liked tugging on it when they were in bed. |
b6268bcfbcb94602be020781fc29b86c | ['5439bca433914054b71875123634eaa3'] | Sasuke woke up looking at a white ceiling with a long, incandescent light. Light was coming in from a window beyond where his head was laying. He shifted slightly, grumbling and feeling lead in his stomach, pining him to the couch.
“Hey-hey, don’t worry there, dude. You’re good.”
Naruto
After a few moments, he felt a warm hand on his head. “Sasuke?”
He grunted in response.
“Shit, hold on.”
As Sasuke started to feel his stomach curling again, he focused on the sound of what was presumably Naruto scrambling to find something. Moments later, he felt his arm being held down and Naruto was trying to calm him. “It’s ok, Sasuke, Itachi’s coming. Your brother’s going to come pick you up, ok? Just relax, everything’s completely cool.”
Sasuke suddenly felt a needle in the arm Naruto was holding down, but it was strange, like the needle had always been there. He had instant flashes of needles all over his arm, in his throat, in his leg, even in his dick. He wanted to vomit, but more than that, he really, really wanted to shed his skin. It felt like if he just clawed off all his skin, the tingling and the humming, searing numbness would finally be gone.
He felt a smooth hand running through his hair and a calm voice telling him everything was going to be ok. Sometimes it was Naruto, other times he couldn’t tell who it was. He liked the hand though, really liked it. That, more than anything, was the warm blanket in the icy wasteland that was his body right now.
It felt like forever before his body finally cooled down, he felt like if that hand had stayed there the process would have been a lot quicker. He didn’t care about appearances at that moment – all he wanted was that nice, big hand raking through his scalp, even just once more. God, he felt like a dog. He was finally able to open his eyes and with stunning and sudden clarity, the room and all the noises around him were vivid and clear as always.
“Hey there, sleepycat.” Said Naruto. Sasuke turned and found him in a chair right above where his head was on the armrest of the couch in Tsunade’s office. Outside, he suddenly noticed there was yelling. Sasuke ground out “What … happen.”
“Something went wrong, we don’t know what. You had what we can only guess was a seizure or something. It sure as fuck wasn’t food poisoning.”
Sasuke grumbled and turned into the cushions on the couch, trying to block out the world and to a certain degree, avoid his own embarrassment. Three people had watched him go into shock and probably vomit on himself. He heard Naruto chuckle.
“I mean it is post-modern reactionary photography, but I don’t think Sai wanted it to be _that_ reactionary. Or maybe he did, that guy’s a fucking madman.”
Sasuke heard the door open. He didn’t turn, but he suddenly felt a warm, familiar hand on his back. Itachi. “Come brother, let’s get you home and to bed.”
Sasuke felt strong arms moving under him and suddenly, Itachi was carrying him for the first time in forever. He tucked his head into Itachi’s neck and breathed out a sigh. In that moment, he felt an overwhelming calm he hadn’t felt since that time he was in the pool with his brother when he was very young. He thought back to how peaceful that was, how his brother was dunking him and having noddle fights with him. He smiled as he remembered.
* * *
Sasuke and Itachi had left and Naruto was left with Tsunade. Despite the massive shitstorm that had just occurred, the image of Itachi carrying his little brother with obvious fondness and the younger responding lovingly to the touch was absolutely adorable – he couldn’t help the smile that split his face at the image.
So Sasuke Uchiha had collapsed in the middle of an art gallery and experienced a post-traumatic episode. Heads were about to roll big time, and he could tell that Tsunade was fully aware of that fact. Consummate tactician that she was, she kept a very collected demeanor about her as she commanded Naruto to sit.
“What happened, Naruto.”
Ino had seen it first. Naruto remembered turning to her mid-snark and stopped when he saw her wearing a look of growing confusion and concern. When he looked over and saw Sasuke heaving, he ran over and automatically went through his EMT routine. His pulse was quick, he wasn’t breathing properly, his temperature was high, he was sweating, seizing, and was completely unresponsive. He was letting out a croaking, gagging sound that Naruto felt was a crime against god – for someone so beautiful to be experiencing such indescribable pain must be a damnable sin. Finally, mercifully, the kid had passed out. Tsunade was already just about there with some real EMTs and Naruto had preemptively relayed his initial findings.
Tsuande now sat with her hand covering her eyes. When Naruto was finished, she sat for a minute, processing the information.
“It wasn’t a seizure.” Tsunade sounded resolute in that diagnosis.
“No, it wasn’t. Whatever happened was more than likely a shock response, the result of immense trauma.”
“But there were no triggers.”
“Well…no.” Naruto disagreed. “There was a trigger, but if I’m right then something seriously fucked up is going on here.”
Tsunade looked up at him and stare for a moment, not angry or confused but very, very intense. “Well?”
“His reaction is consistent with a prisoner of war. The paintings on the wall showed naked men contorting themselves, sometimes painfully. His reaction was most likely a response to those images and the result of previous trauma inflicted intentionally and over the course of a long period of time, possibly meant to specifically target such types of images.”
“Holy mother of fuck.” | d34a9bf3747a459e857b25d93c6ee99c | ['5439bca433914054b71875123634eaa3'] | I had finally made my way far enough I felt he wouldn’t hear me if I was quiet enough. Above was a small clearing in-between the trees were I could look up at the stars. I unzipped my pants and sighed, staring up into the sky and wishing my whole life could be like that one moment, just silence and peace. I closed my eyes and stretched my neck a little bit to enjoy that euphoric wave when I heard what sounded like a holler from behind me.
Confused but quite sure it had come in the direction of camp, I turned around and looked, but found nothing. Not a single light in view, where it had been clearly visible just a minute ago. I’d gone a little ways, but not nearly that far. Another sound, surely a cry of pain, came from the same direction. It sounded like Lillium.
I finished up quickly and trotted back in the direction of camp, and after slowly making my way over out stuck branches and stones hidden in the blackness of the night. I kept running and running, but I knew something was wrong. There was no firelight, and I’d been running way too long. I knew I was going in the right direction, but I wasn’t seeing anything. I figured that if I kept going, I’d eventually get back to familiar territory, but then something happened. I came up on a steep den of entrenched dirt within the wood, with upward sloping paths in two directions. I took the left one, admitting to myself that I might have veered off to the right as I’d ran along. The path took me up out of the den and into a winding, downhill path I knew I hadn’t taken on the way there.
I saw lights in the distance, although a slightly deeper color, but it looked like firelight. I figured I’d go in this direction a little longer and if my vision was just failing me, then I’d just turn back to the den and take the other path. I came closer and closer to the light, and an initial relief filled me before I realized that the lights I was seeing weren’t red, but purple. When my curiosity took me further, I came upon a small pond that glimmered not from the moon, but from below. Above, you could see on the stars in the sky like a beautiful mosaic.
“Hello there, Iris.”
I shivered. I recognized the voice, but I didn’t know from where. The voice wasn’t coming from behind me or to one side, but rather it felt like it was right in front of me. I didn’t know what to do, as the light of the pond seemed to have gotten slightly stronger and there was nothing in front of Iris besides the pond itself.
“W-who are you?”
“Don’t worry, love. All you need do is think a little harder an you’ll know who I am.”
“I don’t-“ I thought back a little, a thought suddenly occurring to me. It was impossible, I thought, no way. Lillium had just joked about the leaf I’d had on my head, saying it was sucking the life energy out of me. Had it really been alive?
“That’s right, Iris! I can see you recognize me now.”
“There’s no way… how?”
“I found you and chose to watch your escape from the lab. You and your kind are very important to us, Iris. You especially can help us to destroy the infestation of this world, I have led you here as a way of communicating with you. This may be our only chance.”
“You… left something inside me?”
“The leaf was a transmitter downloading data into your avatar, helping us to establish a link with you.”
“I… I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to defeat the Glitches or destroy the lab or find a cure, I just want to go home.”
“Iris, don’t you see? We are here to take you home! This is not your universe, you are a virus that accidentally entered from another reality, and we have come to take you out of it. You’ll be safe – we’ll help you. These people are not your real family, that’s why they do not care about you. In your own world, you’ll have friends who know and love you, and who will give you the solace and the wanting you desire.”
I felt water pooling around my heels, and I noticed for the first time that it had a green fog misting through it, and I realized that was where the light was coming from, this strange bright mist floating within.
Taago, that was the name of this strange spirit? How did I know his name?
He had a tremendous resounding voice, and it compelled me forward. I don’t know when, but I decided to take off my shoes and I felt the water warm and delightful in the all-too-sudden cold of the night. I felt it in my body and I just wanted to swim in it, god it was so beautiful. The sensation was in my arms, over my chest, and thick and wavy over my back. I felt like I was wrapped up in a warm, flowing blanket.
“How did I, how did I get here?” I felt compelled to ask.
“As I said, you were sent by accident.”
“But how can I be in a reality by accident? This doesn’t make any sense.”
I felt the voice smile and I shivered. “You’ll understand in time.”
“I want to understand now! Why can’t you tell me.” I called out in anger. The warmth of the water filled my body still, but I was frustrated, even knowing somehow that I’d get an answer eventually. Taago chuckled deeply and it sent shivers through me, spiking my body with an unexpected and unfamiliar pleasure. |
8650a16ea9ec4842935134a8c3ba7e07 | ['54402677fb8a4154a5b7a6d2ddf1f9c3'] | In between preparing for debut, actually debuting and now preparing for their second comeback, Seongwoo found out that his soulmate hasn’t cried in the past few months because he had not spot any new flowers since the last night in their Paju dorms. He was actually quiet relieved because lately, his mind had been filled with work, work and work that he didn’t really have time to wonder about his soulmate.
Also, when he was not occupied with works, his mind had been filled with the newly acquired information about Hwang Minhyun. They had gotten close since they had moved into the dorm. It's not like they were not close before, they were but there was always that tension of being in the competition and also the slight walking-on-the-egg-shells period even after the Produce 101 ended. Now that they are actually groupmates and being same age helped them to become close. And as they got close, Seongwoo had learned that Hwang Minhyun is not as confident as he carried himself to be and that his obsession with cleaning might be linked with him getting anxious over things that are not in his control.
Seongwoo also learned that Minhyun doesn’t easily cry because while others were crying their eyes out after their debut stage, Minhyun was looking at everyone with a faint smile on his face. Seongwoo couldn’t help but think of the flowers blooming in the last of winter everytime he saw Minhyun smiling like that. It’s actually quiet fascinating because Minhyun was born in summer (like himself) and has the personality of a warm ocean breeze in the summer.
The first time he found Minhyun smiling widely was when they were filming for the variety show at the Zero Base. Jinyoung and Guanlin were bickering over something and those two kids decided to ask Minhyun who was right between the two of them. But they ended up bickering again while trying to explain the situation to Minhyun and Minhyun who found them cute was smiling very fondly at the two of them. Seongwoo witnessed the whole thing from where he was sitting at that time and thought that Minhyun's fond smile remind him of the cute kittens and summer breeze.
Seongwoo also learned that despite being so handsome, Minhyun has low self confidence about his face. He never picked himself for visual rankings and was constantly praising others' visuals (Seongwoo was so happy that Minhyun actually picked him as his visual pick, he even had that part of the episode saved in his phone but let's not tell anyone about that). For Seongwoo, Hwang Minhyun's visual is amazing. He looked like a cold vampire prince on stage yet still managed to look like a kitten when he was off stage and Seongwoo just couldn't help but to sing priases about Minhyun's visual at every chances he got. He knew he sounded biased but then again, so were 862,719 people who had voted for Minhyun during the finale night so he thinks his opinion is valid.
But those were not the main reasons why Seongwoo was confused. He was confused because his initial plan to look out for his soulmate has become less and less occupied on his mind these days, and instead placed with the thought of finding out the mysterious creature that is Hwang Minhyun. Seongwoo tried to tell himself that it might just be a fleeting crush, and that he was just starstruck. It kind of worked at first, being busy with debut and all, but once they began the filming for Wanna One Go, Seongwoo started to realize day by day that this was more than that.
He wanted to stay beside Minhyun all the time so that he would be able to learn more about him, he wanted to be the one to know all of Minhyun's habits so that he would be the one to tell the fans about Minhyun. He knew Minhyun had problems adjusting to the new atmosphere and he wanted to be the one to make him feel comfortable enough around his new surroundings that his weird Busan accent would come out eventually. He also knew that Minhyun was so used to being with 3 other same ages friends in Nuest so he tried to fill in their absence by Minhyun’s side.
If someone asked Seongwoo why he was doing all these things, he also didn’t have a solid reason. But the closest thing would be that he loves seeing Minhyun’s genuine smile and he wants to be the one to make that smile bloom so often on Minhyun’s face.
And also, another reason why Seongwoo is confused also related to his own soulmate. Seongwoo used to like imagining how his soulmate might look like and his past imaginations ranged from Kim Taehee to Woobin to the classmate he used to have in high school. But now, he could not imagine any other than those cat-like eyes and white skin. Seongwoo always regarded himself as a bi though now that he had met Minhyun, he was not so sure anymore.
And Seongwoo was also glad that it’s such a great coincidence that a single flower hasn’t bloomed yet on his body and Minhyun hasn’t also shed any tears during that period too.
x | fe47ff988fd040dfabaa94021806cfd0 | ['54402677fb8a4154a5b7a6d2ddf1f9c3'] | Jihoon is his childhood friend and the only son of the Prime Minister Lee who inturn is the most trusted man of Seungcheol’s father. They have known one another since they were little kids and more often than not, it was Jihoon who helped Seungcheol out of the chaos he had caused as a bratty little prince he was. And vice versa, it was Seungcheol who protected Jihoon from the other ministers’ sons when they bullied him for his small body structure and because he is too smart and all the teachers favor him over the others. So, it was not really a big surprise that when one day, the relationship between the two young boys have shifted into something more than platonic. Jihoon put his name down in the candidate lists when it’s time to choose Seungcheol’s royal spouse (to this day,Seungcheol thinks it was not really necessary because he will never choose to get married with someone who is not Lee Jihoon) and the rest is history. Jihoon also takes the role of the royal advisor which Jihoon thinks it’s actually just a fancy name of the babysitter for the crown prince.
While Seungcheol complains about the tiring job of being a crown prince, he definitely loves to see his people being happy. So, he works hard and gives his best to protect his nation and his people. And he also knows that when things get a little too tough, Jihoon will always be there for him with warm hugs and great advices. Also the smiles he gets from Jihoon whenever he has done something good to the nation was more than rewarding. Jihoon is his corner stone who keeps him strong even during the toughest storms in his life. So, while it’s both physically and mentally draining to be a crown prince, Seungcheol thinks it’s okay as long as he can protect his people and sleeps peacefully at nights with Jihoon in his arms.
6. Drabble #6 :From then till Now
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> \- JiCheol Childhood friends to Lovers! AU
Jihoon and Seungcheol practically know each other for their whole life. They have been friends since they were a kid. Seungcheol moved to Busan when he was 6. He ended up being in the same class with Jihoon because he didn’t finish his first grade back in Daegu as his family had to move around a lot due to his father’s job. Jihoon was shy at first when Seungcheol tried to befriend the younger one but they become friends, all thanks to Seungcheol’s puppy eyes and aegyos and while Jihoon denies it, he actually gave in because he thought Seungcheol is cute.
They were inseperable, always attached to each other so much that Jihoon’s Busan dialect got mixed up with Seungcheol’s Daegu accent and vice versa. They were the package deal and everyone in their school had an unspoken understanding that for every projects that needed to pair up with a partner, Seungcheol and Jihoon were off limits. Even the teachers didn’t have the heart to make them choose other partners because they worked so well together. Everyone thought that they were going to be together till they become old men and so did Jihoon and Seungcheol.
Unexpected news came in the form of a letter of promotion to the Choi household when they were 15 and 14 respectively and while Seungcheol was happy for his father because he got the promotion, he was devestated to find that promotion means they will have to move to Seoul where the headoffice is. That night, Seungcheol ran to Jihoon’s house and cried while breaking the news to Jihoon who also cried after hearing it. They had a sleepover at Jihoon’s home that night and unlike the previous sleepovers they had had, they didn’t play games or watch movies at all. Instead, they took a trip down the memory lane by looking at all their photos together when they were kids. That night, Seungcheol promised to Jihoon that he will definitely come and find him again after he graduated and that they will fulfill their promise to go to the same university. Jihoon made him do a pinky promise and said that he will do his best so that he can fulfill their promise too. They cuddled together and both of them felt something new for the first time in their life but brushed it off as them being sad to be seperated from their bestfriend.
What they didn’t expect was for that new feeling to become stronger and stronger day by day and when they finally realized that they are in love with each other, they were already miles apart from each other. Both of them didn’t know how to tell their new found realizations to each other. So instead, they started avoiding each other and things became awkward. That was untill Seungcheol accidentally let it slipped out of his mouth during his drunk dial on the night they both finished their highschool final exams. Seungcheol wanted to die right then and there but suddenly Jihoon was crying and cursing to him at the other end of the line and Seungcheol was about to apologize to Jihoon for ruining their friendship but he caught the words 'You have no idea how scared I was and how long I suffered because I thought you didn’t love me the same,you idiot’ among Jihoon’s curse words. And to this day, they teased each other for their accidental confessions but deep down, they know that it was not accident. They both just had been too scared to do that with a sober mind.
x
Epilogue
'Although I accidently confessed to you during a drunk call, our love is not accident at all.’
‘Oh my god, Choi Seungcheol, did you just rap your wedding vows on your actual wedding day? Please tell me again why i even agreed to marry you!’ |
3445803e59974ec79d3d1e6c148c9e08 | ['5446aa3ba5a24bb0907dae4f7788ded2'] | > the first chapter felt a little short so I nearly doubled the length for chapter two! The rest of the chapters will probably be about this long now. :)
She’s graduated from taking apart and reassembling household objects to creating Franken-devices of varying use and explosivity. Her favourite by far was the device that cooked eggs in a small containment unit through small (but controlled, she assured her frightened mother) chemical reactions. Once ‘cooked’ the eggs ranged from completely raw to a goopy mess of ash, and anywhere in between. She named it the Egg-Cellent Cooker and displayed it on their small counter-top proudly atop a specially-created stand. Joy had to slowly and gently explain why she had reservations about using different combinations of elements to cook their eggs, and Jillian promised to not make any more inventions that would deal with food. She grumbled for half a day and hammered loudly for other half.
As expected, Jillian goes through school with superhuman speed. The school board refuses to let her skip any more grades simply because at the rate she was advancing there was a very good chance she would graduate before she turned sixteen, the age of the average sophomore at her high school.
Jillian doodles in the margins of her physics quiz and tries to pretend that she doesn’t feel all her classmates looking at her with distaste. The general populace of her class didn’t feel great about the fact that a fourteen year old had the highest grade in AP vectors. And AP calculus, and physics, and everything that wasn’t Home Ec. She seemed to start too many fires for the teacher’s liking to get good grades in that class, banished from anywhere in the class with a heat element. She’s perfectly happy to munch gummies she hides in her cargo shorts in the corner while studying some chemistry.
Jillian lets her gaze wander to the bench two rows to the left of her own where Brittany Peterson sits precariously on her lab stool and chews on the end of her pen. Their pop quiz today was slightly more challenging than the usual subject matter, to give her physics teacher some credit but it had still taken Jillian a grand total of five minutes despite being given an hour to complete. Brittany furrows her pencilled brows and Jillian fights a twinge in her chest. She tries and fails to not look at her thighs in her pleated skirt.
Jillian’s eyes trace over all the soft lines of her hips, her back, her shoulders. She gets lost in the curve of her neck, the slope of her nose and the corners of her mouth. Jillian thinks about if she were to calculate the exact angle of her jaw, pencil all of her gentle curves onto her graph paper, if- maybe... would it be as beautiful as the real thing? (She hypothesizes no, probably not).
Brittany’s brown eyes flash up between her bangs around the classroom a couple times before locking onto Jillian’s. Jillian feels her palms start to sweat and a furious blush erupts across her face. Brittany grins with her teeth around her glitter pen and throws Jillian a playful wink. Her heart jumps into her throat and she scribbles nonsense onto her page as a means of ripping her eyes away from that pen and those lips and what they might feel like against hers.
Brittany Peterson is the first beautiful thing that Jillian wants to touch without taking it apart.
* * *
Jillian knows what she is. She’d thought she'd known something since she was about eight or so, but now she _really_ knows. She knows that she likes girls how girls are supposed to like boys. She knows she never liked boys, that’s why she never got those ‘crushes’ or those certain celebrities that everyone her age seemed to unanimously fall in love with. Well she did get crushes, just on _girls_ and she did like celebrities but they were _women_ and then she feels that much more alien to her classmates.
But right now none of those icky alien feelings are happening because Brittany Peterson is kissing her under the bleachers and Jillian feels like she can finally breathe because _maybe she’s not the only alien-girl._ Brittany hooks her fingers in the straps of Jillian’s overalls and tugs, trembling hands fall to Brittany’s hips and a pair of hips clumsily collide with her own and “ _ohmygod”_ Jillian sighs into her lips. A soft tongue licks into her open mouth and Jillian thinks she’s going to die on the spot. She kisses fiercely to the tune of _not alone, not alone, alien-girls!
_ Jillian gets home late and has a grin on her face as big as can be. Joy has a hand on her hip and a wooden spoon in the other when she asks where the hell she’s been but her daughter can’t even look her in the eyes she’s so dazed, Jesus is she _stoned?_ Her hair’s a mess and oh, my god is that-
“Jillian Laura Holtzmann, is that a _hickey_ on your neck?!”
That gets her attention. Wide blue eyes snap to her mother’s and she whips a hand up to her neck, tugging at her jean jacket collar in a feeble attempt at subtlety. Joy fights a wild grin threatening to burst onto her features. She at least has to _seem_ upset.
“Uh, um- it’s not... I mean- mom! No! What’s a hickey? Ha! Me, a hick- d-do you even _know_ me, mother- I mean... _really._ Th-the nerve...”
“Who’s it from?”
“Who’s what from?”
“Jillian.”
“Mom.”
“Jilly-bean.”
“ _Mom.”
__“_ Jill-o-saurus rex? _”
__“MOM,_ oh my _god_.” | 17168170e6124d75be997ceb54186fa0 | ['5446aa3ba5a24bb0907dae4f7788ded2'] | She tries to ignore the chill in her gut as retching sounds come from the bathroom, a not uncommon sound as of late. Cosima is halfway through her second round of aggressive medication, and it's started to affect her fully. Cosima spends the majority of her time sitting down when she's not at work. Delphine resumes her ugly habit of biting at her nails, the familiar scrape of nail against enamel easing her mind temporarily. Cosima always tries to jump to her feet to kiss Delphine when she comes home, but more than once Delphine has woken a sleeping Cosima up with a kiss to her forehead. She sees Cosima leaning on furniture tiredly, but Delphine pretends to not notice. Instead, she ensnares her lip between her teeth and grinds uneasily at the flesh. Cosima's nausea has evolved into vomiting, and her body sags with tiredness and aches for a good portion of her day.
She never fails to smile for Delphine, though. She never complains of her joints that hurt to move or her constantly churning stomach, her body begging to rest and her heavy eyelids. Instead she smiles and laughs through her pain.
She turns her head to look at the clock. 06:47 the green numbers glow in the darkness of the room. _I have to get going in thirteen minutes anyways._ She props herself up on her elbows, rubbing her calves together beneath the sheets _. I hope the clinic isn't too busy today, maybe I can have lunch with Alison without interruption. Does Cosima have work today? I hope she has a day off, she's so tired recently. Should I wear my hair up tod-_
A loud thud followed by a sharp wail and a long moan from behind the door has her kicking the sheets aside and stumbling to the bathroom hurriedly. Her chest feels cold, her mind flashing back to the first time she heard that sound all those weeks ago.
Delphine flings the door open to find Cosima leaning against the bathtub, her arm hooked around the ledge and her lower half on the floor. Vomit is soaking her front and smeared down one side of her face. Her face is scrunched up in pain, her fingers gripping the tub tightly. Delphine rushes to her side, sitting on her haunches. The sharp smell invades her nose and her hands hover over Cosima, unsure of how to help without hurting her further.
"What happened? Are you okay?"
"Yeah I'm fine just-"
Cosima tries to pull herself up but winces and yelps at the sudden pain, falling with a dull thud against the floor. Her fist clenches and her grip on the tub falters, falling fully onto the floor. Delphine's heart tugs painfully at the sight, but she knows she needs to get Cosima up, at least sitting.
"I'm sorry if this hurts." Delphine says quickly, grabbing Cosima's underarms and hoisting her up to slouch against the tub. Cosima cries out when her spine comes in rough contact with the hard surface, but quickly clenches her teeth to silence any further noises that could indicate the true caliber of her pain.
"What can I do, Cosima?" Delphine asks, her hands resting under Cosima's arms.
Cosima pants, every expansion of her ribs sending a stab of pain to her side.
"Just uh... just help me... stand up." She exhales.
Delphine nods, preparing herself for the task. She adjusts to stand with her feet on either side of Cosima's knees, her hands gripping Cosima's underarms.
"Ready?" Delphine asks, looking into Cosima's eyes.
Cosima inhales deeply before biting her lip hard and closes her eyes, nodding. Cosima places her hands on Delphine's arms, bracing herself. Delphine musters her courage and pulls Cosima up in one swift movement.
Delphine will never shake the sound that Cosima emits.
Cosima's lip is red when her jaw wrenches wide as a loud strangled cry rips out of her throat, her head surging back and neck muscles tightening. Cosima's knees buckle under her, fingernails digging sharp half-moons into Delphine's shoulders.
Delphine clambours to support her weight, reaching her arms around Cosima's back. Cosima leans her weight against Delphine's front, breathing heavily once stable on her feet. Cosima's reeking vomit soaks into Delphine's shirt.
Cosima breathes against Delphine's shoulder, arms trembling as she clings to Delphine.
"I uh... I need... to clean up." Cosima says between breaths, lessening her grip on Delphine. Cosima lets go of Delphine's shoulders, only to reattach seconds later. Her fingertips press hard into Delphine, her grip tight.
"Let me help you?" Delphine asks.
"No, no I can do it-" Cosima's knees give out, colliding against Delphine's front again. Her forehead shines with sweat.
_This is exhausting her._
"Cosima, you can barely stand up."
Cosima shakes her head, trying to free herself. She stands unassisted momentarily before her jaw tightens and she swears under her breath, bracing herself against Delphine's forearms.
"Let me help you, okay?" Delphine tries again.
_Please._
Cosima exhales, staring at the floor as she wobbles. After a few moments of silence, she nods slowly. Delphine guides Cosima to sit on the edge of the tub before gently pulling her ruined shirt up and over Cosima's head. Delphine's heart jumps to her throat at the sight of previously hidden deep purple bruise colouring her side.
"Cosima!"
"It's nothing! It's nothing, don't worry."
"How old is this?" Delphine's professional brain whirrs alive, inspecting the colours and apparent pain level.
Cosima avoids Delphine's eyes as she mumbles "a few days"
"Why didn't you tell me?" Delphine asks sadly.
"I just, I dunno... I didn't want to worry you."
"We're in this together, chérie," Delphine ghosts her index finger under Cosima's chin, looking into her eyes,"I want to know when you're hurting. Inside or out." |
e9de352de4e64238b5c71a7b89e83b74 | ['54646261e718472cb5b9cdb3ac4c612f'] | “I… Will see what I can do!” Or not… heavy armor tended to impede movement, but again, this was just for a night of fun, it would be amusing to see how Iida intends to use his speed as well. Toshinori gave Iida some six-sided dice and gave him the same instructions as he did Midoriya, who was still busy rolling and writing down numbers as they showed up.
“And you Ms. Uraraka?”
Ochako was staring intently at a lit candle with a strange gleam in her eye.
“Fire…”
“E-Excuse me?” Instinct told Toshinori to move the candle away from the girl, and he did.
“I want to burn everyone in my path, make me that” With almost a maniacal grin she looked through the book for a race. “Oh and make me a forest gnome! They’re cute!”
Well that was… quite the contradiction of race and intention, but still, gnomes did have an intelligence bonus which would work well with an evocation wizard who used primarily fire spells. “I… Can do that quite easily!” Ochako was already grabbing the dice to roll, having heard the instructions given to her friends. Just as he was about to move back to Izuku to see how he was rolling, Ochako piped up again. “Does it mean anything special if I roll four sixes?” Toshinori’s eyes bulged.
He was working by a 4d6 method of rolling for stats, meaning you roll a 6 sided die 4 times and take the 3 highest numbers and add them together for a number, then you would put that number to a stat of your choice and that stat would get stronger or weaker depending on how high then number was. “Thats… extremely good Ms. Uraraka! You will probably want to put 18… no 20 into your intelligence stat if you really want to deal a lot of fire damage!” He did some quick math in his head, adding the racial bonus with 18, “20 means… you have plus 5 intelligence. That was extremely good for a level one wizard, she would have some serious firepower at her disposal. “Keep rolling and recording numbers and I’ll help you put them where you’d like!”
Moving back to Izuku, Toshinori was pleasantly surprised to see that he was intently reading the character creator chapter and working ahead a bit, taking a peek at Izuku’s sheet, Toshinori noticed he had already started filling in numbers based off what he had read. “Great job young Mid-” Toshinori cut himself off as he saw the placement of the stats. It was… very strange to say the least. He had gotten two 9s, a 14, a 15, and two 16s which was a bit above average for rolling, while it wasn’t a 20 like Ochako’s, it was still pretty good, but he had put one of his 16s into charisma, and the other into intelligence, while they were not bad stats by any means, he had put a 9 into his strength, the main stat he would be using in combat if he were to really be a fighter class, giving him a -1 on every attack roll. When would he even use charisma outside of NPC interactions? And Ochako definitely had enough intelligence for the whole party, so it would make a lot more sense for him to put it into constitution and strength, but Toshinori wasn’t the kind of person to make someone’s character for them unless they wanted, so he left Izuku be.
“Alright let's finish up your characters and we can get on to your first game!” Toshinori sounded excited to play again as he helped finalize everyone’s character sheets.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> The character sheets have been organized into need little infographics made in collaborative effort by Iku and Annapods, check it out! https://kacchanmutual.tumblr.com/post/173934680205/what-happens-when-3-bored-teens-have-nothing
3. A New Adventure
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I use linebreaks to move between in game and out of game writing
A human, a halfling, and a forest gnome sat at a round table in a rather empty tavern, the group had been commissioned to clear out a long since abandoned mine to hopefully start bringing new revenue to the run down town, they were waiting for the mayor to come give them information and prepayment.
The tavern-maid eyed them with some suspicion before hesitantly approaching them. She was a kind looking elvish lady with shoulder length straight hair and spoke with a slight elvish accent. “Hello dearies, can I interest you in something to eat or drink?”
The group quickly searched their pockets and found that they had about a gold each in assorted silver and copper pieces.
After a quick at the menu, Deku was the first to speak up. “I’ll have a bee-”
* * *
“Water.” Inko’s steely gaze moved between Midoriya and Toshinori and her voice was cold and stern, quickly drawing everyone out of the roleplay.
Toshinori stammered for a moment and quickly started writing over the previously handed out menu.
* * *
“I… will have a barley tea…” Deku started speaking again after another quick look at the new menu.
Ingenium was the next to speak up. “I will have a water and a loaf of bread.”
The small forest elf named Uravity was last. “I vill have ze tea ast vell!”
* * *
Everyone at the table blankly stared Ochako.
“What? The book said that it’d be fun to do a character voice and that it could give your character a bit more personality!”
After a few more silent moments of staring, Ochako sighed and relented
* * *
.
With crossed arms and a dejected expression on her face, the gnome sat back and barely mumbled out a “I’ll have tea as well…” | d98145bddde74bc598d69cfee342ea88 | ['54646261e718472cb5b9cdb3ac4c612f'] | The witch had made a temporary hut in the now dead forest. Each tree now just a brittle dead mess that wouldn’t be good for anything except burning.
Uravity stepped into the forest that she once ran through as she was younger, remembering the vibrant green colors that were all just now a dead black.
Her fingers trailed over the wood as rage filled her body, why should this witch be able to tread all over them just because she had abilities?
The more Uravity thought, the angrier she got, and the hotter her hands grew. She was trembling in fury and before she could even think too much about it her magic mixed with her emotions, spilling out of her all at one in a heat.
She jumped back in surprise at the feeling of magic, only to see that the tree she was touching was now ablaze. She took a step back, simply in awe of her magic’s work.
Fire is only dangerous when you can’t run from it.
The fire spread, jumping from dead tree to dead tree as if it had a mind of its own. Each flame seemed to giggle and laugh in the crackle of the burning wood to the. In almost no time at all, the witch’s hut was surrounded with flame.
Uravity had no idea how long she was standing there watching, an almost perfect circle of fire was centered around the hut, never spreading any further, never harming anything else. She didn’t even notice the rest of the village coming to watch with her as the flames raged, then eventually died down into a small smolder, no evidence of the witch’s existence even being left. It was all ash and char.
The very next day things started to sprout again, small buds peaking up out of the previously dead soil, and nowhere was anything growing better than in the charred forest. Large strong trees were spurting from the ground in a matter of months, not that Uravity was around to see it.
The day after the village saw what she could do, people started scavenging up whatever they could to gift to her. Some food here, a bag there, some extra coin that they could spare. She had the makings of a great mage, and the village wasn’t going to let her waste it by staying home all her life. She took to the road almost immediately, experimenting with her powers and learning what she could along the way. Who would’ve known a little forest gnome had an affinity for fire?
8. Some Frogly Advice
Ingenium’s brother had been killed, so using the wealth of his family and the blessing from his god, he got some good armor and started his search for the killer
* * *
“Great start Iida! What’s your idea for the rest?” Izuku and Uraraka crowded around his desk at their freetime, having shared their own backstories just a moment ago.
“Um… that was it? It was short and simple, giving a good motivation to his character and telling you everything you need to know about him.” Iida rubbed the back of his head bashfully, averting his gaze out the window and away from Izuku and Uraraka.
“O-Oh! W-Well it did great for what it was trying to do! But don’t you think you could give it a bit more thought? Like who was Ingenium’s brother? Who is his god? Why did he decide on paladin rather than some other class?” Uraraka’s mental gears started turning as she thought about Ingenium.
“Yeah! And like, why does Ingenium feel a need to go after this killer other than the authorities? Why did the killer target his brother as opposed to someone else? Is this killer’s identity important?” Izuku chimed in, his hand twitching, actively having to stop himself from writing the backstory for both Ingenium and for the killer.
“Also” A sudden chair being pushed next to the already crowded desk made everyone jump, as the local frog enthusiast Asui Tsuyu interjected herself into the conversation “We don’t really get to see any of Ingenium’s character like we did in Izuku’s and Ochako’s stories.” She sat up in her chair with her knees at her chest and her feet on the seat. “All we get is that he’s vengeful, and I doubt that’s his entire character, where’s the personality? The motivation? Why did he even care about his dead brother? Why does he put belief in and praise this god?” Izuku and Uraraka simply nodded along with Tsuyu’s questions.
Iida let out a sigh as he slumped down, his head colliding into the desk with a loud THUMP, “This character making stuff is hard, I should just let one of you do it for me…”
Izuku immediately dashed for a pencil and right as he was about to take Iida’s paper to write over his idea, Tsuyu’s hand came down on his with a harsh smack.
Izuku recoiled in pain, clutching his reddening hand with fear in his eyes. Tsuyu’s voice was unusually sharp, “No. In order for you to feel and play your character to the best of their abilities, you should write it.”
“Wow Tsuyu, you seem to know a lot about this kind of stuff, have you played d&d before?” Ochako scooted a bit closer, hoping to get some tips.
Tsuyu nodded, “Mhmm! My family plays occasionally instead of board games, I wouldn’t consider myself experienced or familiar with the rulebook too much but we have fun.”
“We just started playing with Izuku’s dad! We’re just about to start some big boss battle against a necromancer!”
“Mr. Toshinori is a DM?” Tsuyu looked out the classroom door into the hallway to see the teacher in question idly chatting with Mr. Aizawa.
Uraraka quirked her head, “A DM? What’s that?” |
87bdfca3c1814826a7f47917aafe622e | ['546c9f47bf204e80b9070bb1da5f41b5'] | __Yoosung wanted her to _hurt_ , just like she wanted him to. He wanted her to feel all of the pain and misery he had as watched her drift from him to that obnoxious, _half-witted_ hacker. Yoosung wanted Jisoo to cry and scream until her voice grew hoarse. And on the other end, he wanted the same for him. He wanted her to hurt _him_. To yank his hair, bite him and rake her nails along _every inch_ of his skin as punishment, for doubting her, for being so cruel to her. The pain would be their medicine, their therapy.
_ _
__Somehow, he made it to their bed without tripping and threw Jisoo onto it. He stripped frantically, watching as she did the same. Her lips were swollen and red, and tears streamed from her eyes across reddened cheeks. Bruises had already begun to form, on her neck and on her legs from where he had gripped her. He hair was tangled and scattered. Yet, beneath that lay a hunger. Her cunt still dripped with her arousal, not in spite of the pain, but _because_ of it.
_ _
__Yoosung advanced on her once more, but before he could fuck her again, she pounced on him, forcing him down. _”Stay.”_
_ _
__She spat the command at him as she turned to their bureau and retrieved two of his work ties. Jisoo quickly returned to their bed, grabbing his wrists and tightly knotting them first together, then to their bed. Jisoo leaned back and admired her handiwork. The knots were sturdy. Even pulling at them hard wouldn’t undo them. She straddled Yoosung, then began grinding her wetness into him with all of her fury, raking her carefully manicured nails across his body, leaving red trails over his subtle pecs and abs.
_ _
__Both of their groans grew louder and mingled together in the air. Jisoo slowly made her way down his body, leaving a fresh trail of hickies and bite marks. She took his cock in her mouth while she pinched his balls with her hand, twisting them around. Yoosung moaned at the feeling, as she gently sucked on his head, then released it as she continued to pump on with her other hand. She kissed the head of his cock thoroughly, tasting their mingled juiced from earlier. She kissed, sucked, and licked her way around his cock, occasionally scraping her teeth lightly across the skin as a reminder of her rage. Every move she made caused him to snuggle and yank at his bonds. Yoosung wanted to run his fingers through her hair and grab at it. He tried to quell that thirst by grabbing the ties, but they weren’t anywhere near as soft as her curly locks. Jisoo took Yoosung’s balls in her mouth, continuing to pump his shaft and rub her thumb over the head. She sucked on them, and again lightly bit, drawing another hiss from Yoosung. The fierceness with which he yanked at his bonds were sure to leave bruising. His moans and groans grew louder, and he began to thrust his hips into her hands and mouth as he began to tense up. Right before he almost exploded, at the pique Jisoo ceased her relentless attack.
_ _
__“ _Fuck,_ Ji…” he complained, pulling harder against the restraints. She smirked at him, then blew cold air back onto his cock. He flinched and moaned at the feeling. She made her way back up his body, before settling above his face.
_ _
__Almost immediately, Yoosung set to work on her, lapping at her clit, and drawing his tongue around the little nub in torturous circles. Jisoo moaned, pushing her hips down to his face. He began to alternate between sucking on her and licking. If his hands were free, he would’ve flipped her over, savagely licking and sucking as he finger fucked her within an inch of her life. He would curl his fingers into her, stroking her g-spot with as much pressure he could give her. He would add more, more speed, fingers and pressure until she shook from it all. He would bite and sooth her, cherish her as he brought her closer to orgasm, then take it all away in an instant. He would return the favor of edging, but he wouldn’t stop until she begged, pleaded and cried for release. He wasn’t so nice as she was, to only edge him once. But his hands weren’t free, so he had to resort to simple licks and bites. One bite landed far harsher than the others, causing her to retreat. She slid down his torso, and delivered a harsh smack to his chest, patting it to sooth him after he let out a cry.
_ _
__Jisoo lifted his cock, then inserted it into herself carefully. She began to ride him, rocking as fast as she could, letting moan after moan tumble from her lips. His cock managed to hit the _best_ spots. Yoosung couldn’t stop himself from joining her chorus of pleasure, releasing his own melody.
_ _
__She was heaven, hell and purgatory all at once. Her tits and legs bounced to a rhythm he found irresistible. Her expression was bliss; Jisoo was completely and utterly sexed out. She was beautiful and graceful. She was _his_ , and Yoosung had to make sure she understood.
_ _
__“Untie me,” came his hoarse request, and she complied almost too quickly. Once he was free, he dug his fingers into her hips and started moving her with a greater frequency. If asked, neither of them could say for sure who was in control at that moment. Maybe both, maybe neither.
_ _ | d93791d6ee534eec9a99895a8b8b035f | ['546c9f47bf204e80b9070bb1da5f41b5'] |
1. It Begins
_"Potter, quit staring at the ginger."_ The loud voice of Sirius Black demanded, his voice squeaking, if only slightly.
James pushed his consistently unruly curly hair back from his eyes, an involuntary smirk forming on his lips. He forced himself to look away from one of the most beautiful creatures he'd ever seen to answer Sirius. "My deepest apologies, Black. Though I must know, why must you always insist on being so serious, Sirius?"
Sirius let out his signature groan of annoyance, as Remus glanced up and smirked. He was always amused at his friends' back and forth ridicule of each other. James couldn't help but roll his eyes at Remus's consistent amusement towards their banter, which often times dissolved into real bickering. He had a theory that Lupin was actually a sadist that enjoyed conflict and pain, be it physical or emotional.
Then again, Remus Lupin was the reason why most fights between Sirius and James ended peacefully. He was allowed to be amused by their banter, so long as it didn't turn into the two of them screaming for one another's blood. Which happens more often than not... James admitted sheepishly in his mind. Sirius was lecturing him yet again about how awful and obnoxious the Serious Sirius jokes were.
"Seriously, can't you just cut the crap with the jokes, Potter?" His face fell immediately after he realized what he said.
James could tell that he was clinging onto the hope that his friends didn't notice his slip up, but they always noticed. Especially Remus. His ears are sharper than a wolf's... James mused.
"I don't know, Sirius, last I checked, James was never one to be serious about these types of things, unlike you, Sirius. You're too serious, Sirius, for your own good," Remus had closed his book, and was joining in on the fun.
Peter was standing by, fidgeting nervously. "Come on you guys. Do you seriously want to piss off Sirius."
James looked at Peter and grinned, slapping his hand down on Peter's shoulders as his face turned redder than a tomato. "There you go, Pettigrew! I didn't know you had it in you to make the Serious Sirius jokes!"
"N-n-no, I d-didn't mean to, I s-sw-swear!" He shook his head violently back and forth as James and Remus collapsed into their laughter.
"That's it, I hate all of you!" Sirius threw his hands up in a sign of defeat, and began walking towards the exit of Platform 9 3/4. "I'm not going to talk to any of you! Not even next year!"
Peter wailed in response. "I didn't mean it, Sirius, I'm sorry!"
"Yeah, his apology is real Serious, Sirius!" James cried out, clutching his sides as stitches began to form in them.
Remus, at some point, had returned to reading his book. Which didn't look interesting in the slightest. "Okay you two, knock it off before he really does decide he hates us."
"C'mon, Lupin, you know as well as I do that he never actually means it." Remus pursed his lips, and shook his shaggy brown hair away from his eyes.
Peter, meanwhile, was having a bit of a panic attack. "I c-c-ca-can't lose a friend! It's s-so h-hard to make n-n-new ones!"
He was trembling as his knees gave in and he fell to the ground. Remus smiled with pity at the always nervous Peter Pettigrew. "It's alright, Pete. You heard James. Plus, you've been friends with him for two years now! Sirius never stays mad at us for long."
True to their prediction, Sirius could be seen walking back towards them, his eyes twitching like crazy. "Nopenopenopenopenopenopenopenopenopenope."
"What's the matter, mate?"
"Oh nothing! Everything's good, mates. Say, do you want to go out for some ice cream before your parents show up? Mine haven't shown up yet either, yeah, c'mon! Let's scram!" Sirius grabbed Peter, who was currently in the process of rejoicing that his friend had returned.
"What's wrong?" Lupin inquired, his brows furrowing.
"Yeah, tell us what's wr-"
"SIRIUS ORION BLACK!"
"You know what, you're right. Let's go get some ice cream." James smiled politely, then grabbed Sirius and Remus's arms.
"Hey, wait up!" Peter called out, distress clear on his face.
James glanced back, throwing Pettigrew an apologetic smirk. "Make up a cover story for us! We'll make it up to you!"
He couldn't help but feel a little bit guilty at the crest fallen look on Peter's face. We should stop ditching him. James shrugged his guilt off like water rolling off his back. Remus had, (Somehow), returned to reading his book once more.
"Bloody Hell, Lupin, how are you still reading?! In case you hadn't noticed, we're running for our lives!" Sirius pretended not to hear this, while Remus simply shrugged, then turned a page.
"It's an interesting book."
James swatted Remus in the ear, then sped up the pace he was running at. After several minutes of weaving around the muggles and shoving past people, they managed to escape Kings Cross, without much more trouble.
The streets of London were still relatively cold, despite the sun shining. Several people who passed them threw strange looks, which they all ignored. Their judgement was of no concern to them, after all. They were just muggles.
"Check it out," Sirius panted out, his hands resting above his knees. "The fates seem to be in favor of you and the ginger getting together."
"What doe that even mean?"
"She's over there," Remus said in deadpan, pointing in the general direction of where she was standing.
Lily Evans. |
6bab46a5b0c94dfd813b16f60bafc7ce | ['546dcdeebab34558a7fdf33226da577c'] | He felt so close to finishing already and the mere thought of her touching his cock was making his teeth bite hard into his lip. She huffed a laugh in response before she knelt and tugged off his jeans, leaving him in his boxers.
“Would you rather I stop?”
“No,” he squeaked in an octave he didn’t think he was capable of reaching.
Her hands slid up his legs slowly, tracing the muscles in his calves and thighs before she gently nudged them apart, settling between them and, with a wicked grin she pressed a kiss to his clothed erection. Sandor's fingers curled into the sheets as his hips bucked up towards her teasing lips. He felt her fingers grasp the waistband of his boxers and then she pulled them away, his cock bobbing slightly as it was freed.
" _Unnn_ ," he groaned, eyes falling shut as her fingers slowly stroked the shape of him.
He jerked as her other hand reached up to cup his cheek and he opened his eyes to see her leaning over him with a smile, soft and sweet as she admired him. The pad of her thumb traced across his lips as her fingers of her other hand encircled his cock. Sandor's breath hitched from the attention, something he was entirely unused to.
"You're very handsome."
“You sure about that?”
“I’m sure about that,” she said. She placed a hand on his heart. “You’re handsome here where it matters.”
Her hand moved and began stroke him. Sandor panted helplessly against her ministrations. He closed his eyes as her own twinkled with mischief before he felt his cock being engulfed in the wet heat of her mouth. She pulled off of him slightly to run her tongue along the length of him in slow, teasing strokes that left him gasping and trembling. And then she closed her lips around the head once more, her hand curling around the base and stroking what she couldn't take as she slowly descended, taking more of him into her mouth.
He expected her to speed up or to stroke him faster, used to former partners who just wanted to get this over with or to get him hard enough to proceed to sex. But, like the rest of his body, Sansa was determined to take her time. She traced him with her tongue and her fingers, learning exactly what pace and intensity sent him into a gasping, quivering mess and smiling victoriously every time she received such a reaction. Sandor had never had someone so willing to learn his body.
"Sansa...I want to…"
She pulled off of him and for a second he regretted ever saying anything. But when she returned with a condom, he decided this was better. She smirked at him, leaning back to tug her dress over her head and Sandor choked at the fact she was naked beneath. His eyes roamed across her body and he unconsciously licked his lips as his gaze settled on her cunt.
"But you..." he started before she placed a finger to his lips.
She grasped his other hand, guiding it down until his fingers rest against his damp curls. "I'm soaking from just touching you," she murmured against his cheek, her own nuzzling against his beard as she grasped him. "And from sucking your cock."
"Fuck me," he gasped as she moved suddenly and descended on him.
His hands flew out to grasp her hips. Her fingers stroked across his chest and along his arms as she gently rocked above him. Sandor tried to keep his eyes open but the sensations were too much. He gripped her hips and tried to hold on as long as possible.
Moans echoed in the room and the sound of her arousal with every rock of her hips made Sandor hotter as he felt his muscles beginning to clench with his oncoming release. His eyes opened in time to see her cheeks were flushed and her eyes dark as she chased her own release. He groaned as she fluttered around him and spilled.
For a moment, they lay together panting as her breath ghosted along his neck and his hand idly stroked her back.
"New rule," he teased. "We need to do that again."
"I like that rule," she replied. | 12a08f1f5a6441cfae19960b7ef1a896 | ['546dcdeebab34558a7fdf33226da577c'] | His finger was slipping inside her and she gasped in pleasure. “Not…bad…at…all.”
Feeling his knuckles resting against her folds, he slipped his finger out and pushed another back in, entering slowly, as his thumb stroked her clit. She writhed under him as the heat of her juices made it easier for Sandor's fingers to thrust deeper inside her cunt.
"And this?" he asked next as he began to pump faster. Biting her lip, she held on tight to his broad his shoulders. "I'll make you scream sweet wife."
Feeling his fingers expertly fucking her, her nerves gathered all at once, bundled at her core and ready to explode, Sansa allowed a small moan to escape. "Don't..stop," she begged.
"Fuck Sansa, you're so wet. I love making my sweet wife forget about all everything. Are you going to cum for me Sansa?"
"Yes," she squeaked.
Digging her nails in, she leaned forward and moaned against his bare chest as she pulsed around his fingers. His thumb circled around her clit, intensifying her climax. She came over and over until she fell back onto the pillows.
Panting, Sandor slid his fingers out. Lifting them to his lips, he sucked long and hard, his dark eyes staring down at her. "Can I lick you clean Sansa?"
She couldn’t think of anything to do but nod.
Sandor threw her thigh over his shoulder as he got between her legs and buried his face there. Licking one long stripe through her slit, Sansa moaned louder than she intended while Sandor grasped behind her cheeks with both hands and pulled forward. His tongue lapped up and down and plunged straight into her pussy. She started bucking her hips wantonly, riding his face with her thrown back.
Becoming sloppy and frantic with his licks, he pulled away from her warmth to lick his lips and then dove straight back in.
Calling out his name, Sandor stood quickly, stripped off his boxers and stopped her cries with his mouth. She tasted herself on his tongue and moaned into his kiss.
"Are you ready for me to make you forget the rest?"
"Definitely,” she breathed.
Holding his impressive length in here hand, she pumped his cock, making him groan and curse under his breath. “This is about you,” he growled, before he spread her legs and settled between her dripping lips. She gasped as he entered her.
He started to move at an agonizingly slow pace at first and she smacked his ass. “Faster.”
“As you wish, wife,” he snorted and began to thrust harder and faster, burying himself deep within her.
The pace became desperate and she chanted his name with every panted breath. "Sandor Sandor Sandor…I'm cumming. Don't…stop."
She breathed through her nose as his hand cupped her mouth and his frantic thrusts stroked higher against her clit until he smacked against her body with an achy grunt that made her cum on the spot. Sandor continued to spasm as her walls throbbed around his cock, jerking each time he pulsed into her.
He held her legs as the trembling subsided and her arms unlocked from his neck. She felt him kissing her neck tenderly, sending more tingles shooting through her.
"Have I made you forget about your frustrating night, love?"
“Definitely.” |
97e1a02baa5348fa97f828bfd2e9a62d | ['5475557b512a481b8ba4bdee68605016'] | Oh, god. Tom can't even begin to think about Charlie seeing him like this without feeling queasy, and so he doesn't. He reaches out to lay a hand on Louis' bicep and tries not to let out a little groan when he feels the outline of muscles underneath his warm, golden skin. "How about we talk about what we should do instead?"
He knows that line bordered on corny, but Louis doesn't seem thrown off. Tom bites his lip--his signature move--in the hope that it will remind Louis why he suggested they do this in the first place.
Louis shakes his head, and then without any further adieu, wraps his fingers around Tom's wrist and starts to drag him down the corridor towards the bend that leads to the spooky hall where it was quiet and the noise from the stage above echoed like ghosts.
They're moving so quickly that the robe is fluttering. Tom's arse is definitely showing, but at least no one else comes down here.
Louis looks over his shoulder at Tom and this time, when he smiles, he doesn't look quite so... famous.
"This brings back memories. I used to spend a lot of time in this cupboard. That one really wasn't a pun, thankfully."
"I suppose I should've guessed you were one of the two from your band George said he joined in here." Tom smiles, much more softly than the occasion calls for, but something about Louis makes him feel like that's okay.
"Well, George is very persuasive." Louis sounds a little soft and fond himself. It's probably just something about George that turns otherwise-rational people into mushballs. "The first time, he claimed he needed a mop, but he already had his hair, so. That was probably a dirty lie."
Tom laughs, louder than he should have while sneaking around. "See, we're talking right now, and that's great." He takes a moment to gather himself, crowding into Louis' space and reveling in the firm press of their chests together. "But also, we could be kissing. That is a thing that we could do."
Louis' eyebrows shoot up. "Let's get somewhere more private first. I don't intend to stop at kissing, and there are a lot of cameras about."
Tom feels a sharp intake of breath that wasn't entirely voluntary, and he tries his best not to whine at all the ideas of what else Louis might want to do. "Right. Right, sorry, I...let's just. Here."
The air feels heavy around them, and Tom can't stop thinking about how plush Louis' lips are, how soft the skin of them is compared to the scruff on his cheeks. It's doing nothing but propelling him faster toward the closet.
It's dark inside, but not so dank as Tom had feared given that it's a supply cupboard. He isn't worried about backing into any noxious chemicals and dying with a dick in his mouth and toxic fumes in his nose, at any rate.
All things considered, if he were to die with a dick in his mouth, at least it would be Louis', and he's sure there are worse ways to go. Now, hidden away from view, Tom's honestly not sure where he wants to put his mouth first. There are so many options.
Louis makes the first choice easy. Their lips touch, and it isn't just a tentative first-timer kiss. Louis really goes for it, teeth and tongue and his callused hands on Tom's jaw.
Louis is all roughness between his calluses, the beginnings of his beard, the way he pushes himself into Tom's body with reckless abandon as soon as the threat of cameras disappears. He's everywhere, crowding up into Tom's space until all he can smell is Louis, Louis, Louis.
It's different, and not just because Louis is so famous. But that's part of it. The way he smells is different, the kinds of soap he can put on his skin and the fragrance he can spritz behind his jaw and the faint newness of his clothes and shoes.
He wonders if he'll get his chance, if someday he'll get to smell famous like that, get to choose this look of artfully disheveled in an outfit that likely cost more than a flat where he's from. He feels like a million pounds right now, with the way Louis' other hand is playing with the shoulder of the dressing gown. This is something he could get used to.
"Is this really yours?" Louis asks, his fingers slipping under the slippery green satin so that the robe begins to fall down Tom's chest. "It's nice, I'm just wondering."
"I'm working on it, actually. Hoping Chloe won't notice. I really," he sucks in a breath, distracted by the feeling of Louis' fingers running over the newly exposed skin, "really like the way it makes me feel."
A slow syrup smile spreads across Louis face, barely visible in the dark. Tom's pupils are huge, and it makes him feel a little vulnerable in a way that gives his skin all-over goosebumps.
"How does it make you feel, then?"
"Like I want to kiss you again."
Tom surges forward again, one hand on Louis' chest, feeling the skin there through the massive armholes and trying to parse if the skin of his tattoo feels any different. Mostly it all just feels hot, and it's a comfort to know Louis is feeling it too. His head tilts to the side, kissing him hard enough that their noses bump against each other a bit.
Louis' hands are so swift and smooth when he unties the front of Tom's robe that it takes a minute before Tom realizes that the shivery feeling down his back was the satin slipping down, hanging just from his elbows, his entire front and most of his back exposed. | c417f2b4538941208917a54ec7be10ab | ['5475557b512a481b8ba4bdee68605016'] |
Rock Your Body, Yeah
**Author's Note:**
> #votestereokicks
James is trying--with little success--to fight the tiredness settling in his bones as he and the others stake out a booth. It's been a busy day. He can't wait to sit down so he can throw back a few drinks and _relax_.
There was nothing short of an X Factor party bus going to the party with Mel, but the band decided to go off to Mahiki by themselves. And, as much as he hates to have band bonding moments that Charlie and Reece can't join them for, he can't say he's mad about getting a chance to be out, just him and the boys.
And he remembered his ID this time, which is a plus. He can actually get a booth and throw back a few drinks now. Which Jake and Casey will not stop ribbing him about.
But come on, guys. That was fully two weeks ago.
He figures that since he's been the butt of the group's jokes for two weeks, between Jake and Casey laughing about the ID, Charlie being the tallest fourteen year old he's ever seen, and Tom nearly pulling his pants down as well as his trousers, he has every right to sit down and make someone else go get him a beer. If that doesn't fly, he's fully prepared to yell, "Shortest quiff gets first round!" He's not entire sure if that applies to Barclay, though, since he hasn't really got a quiff at all, but he's not bothered. Either way, it's not him. He's quite proud of his hair.
And if it does make him taller than a grammar schoolboy, then all the better.
In the end, he doesn't need to yell it. Barclay just comes up with a beer and hands it over to James as he slides into the booth, right beside him, scooting close enough that their thighs touch under the tabletop.
James takes a sip, letting his head fall back against the firm, plastic lined cushion of the booth, before turning to smile at Barclay. He feels a buzz all over his body, which he thinks has more to do with the proximity of their thighs than the single sip of beer. At least, he hopes as much. Two beers is bad, but one sip is the worst lightweight anyone could possibly be.
He doesn't need to give Jake any more ammo, even if it is just friendly teasing.
"Thanks, mate."
Barclay smiles at him. He's handsome. "No problem."
And then he scoots even closer --
But it's just so there's enough room for Tom on the bench so that he isn't falling off the side. He tucks right under Barclay's arm instead, two of some sort of vodka drink in hand. He puts one in front of Barclay and tips some of the second into his own mouth.
James closes his eyes and schools his face into something less disappointed before anyone notices. He's not sure he's successful, but no one says anything about it, which is nice. He doesn't want to have to make up an excuse for looking that way when he sees how they smiles at each other.
Because they're sweet, Tom and Barclay. They really are. Always sitting next to each other in interviews, or standing next to each other, or anything they can do to be no more than a pinky touch away at all times. He should be, he _wants to be_ happy for them.
But the weird thing is, they're not really a "them." There's nothing, at least that they've come out and said, for the rest of the band to be happy about.
Unless they just think the rest of the band are stupid and somehow don't notice. But they all share a bedroom. They live in each other's pockets. It's not like Tom and Barclay are keeping "Tom and Barclay" a secret, either, except maybe from Charlie, but even then...
It's not like they aren't going to notice that sometimes one of them will skive off and claim that they're going to take a shower, and the other will leave for some "tea," but they both come back with their hair wet.
And smelling a bit like peaches. Which is...not a bad smell. He wonders whose soap they use when they hastily try to cover their tracks when they're done.
James does his best not to imagine what they get up to in there.
Almost as though he could sense James' need for distraction, Chris comes over with a platter of shot glasses balanced precariously on one of his hands, the other holding some irish beer bottle by the neck. "Who wants tequila shots?"
James raises his hand before anyone else has time to finish hooting in celebration. The tequila burns going down, like he's swallowed a lit match. If he sang, maybe flames would come out of his mouth like a dragon.
Maybe that tequila hit him a bit harder than he was expecting. Which, naturally, means he should have another. And maybe chase the taste out of his mouth with some more beer.
A solid plan, if he's ever had one.
After all that, the warm feeling spreads through his body and settles, familiar, in his tummy. He can almost ignore the way Barclay's arm has moved from around Tom's shoulders to around his waist, and he's almost certainly stroking the skin underneath the hem of Tom's shirt. James can tell. He wishes he could feel it too.
Barclay's thigh is ablaze beside his, too. Everything in this club is warm. He's too warm.
"Budge up," James says abruptly, pushing at Barclay's shoulder. "It's too smushed in here." |
57f27319677b404cab8de0d801e96c93 | ['5485b30ef8e14f3e85d58730c4cffaa5'] | “No, actually...” Roman groaned, clutching the pillows with both hands, “it feels… good.” He was lying half on his side, half on his stomach with Dean in front of him, who had a hand wrapped around his dick, moving it in the same pace as Sami's thrusts. Roman's eyes fell shut, he was so close. Sami inside of him felt so good; his moans against his ear; Dean's large hand pulling at his dick. Suddenly he felt kind of safe between their hot and heavy bodies and he let go. Sami followed him a moment later into the much too short bliss of orgasm with a ragged moan.
“Beautiful,” Dean said in a slightly dreamy voice and wiped his hand on the sheets. Sami rolled off of Roman, who stayed the way he was, with his eyes still closed, his breathing slowly getting back to normal.
“Everything okay?” Sami asked him and put a hand on his shoulder. Roman nodded and eventually stretched his body. He felt so relaxed and oddly satisfied. This whole thing had turned out much different from what he had thought it would be. And he was kind of proud of himself that he had managed it so well. Even Dean had been much more careful than he had ever expected from him. He really had surprised him with his gentleness after he had seen the way he manhandled Sami sometimes. But he had the suspicion that Sami liked exactly that.
Dean's voice brought him back from his musings, ordering Sami to lie down in the middle. Sami climbed over Roman and settled into Dean's embrace. He said that he enjoyed their threesomes.
“We should do a double penetration,” was Dean's comment.
“A what? Jesus, I'm not sure if I'm ready for that,” Roman huffed.
“I meant with Sami, knucklehead,” Dean set him straight.
“Oh. Thank God,” Roman sighed.
Sami chuckled. “I'd love that.”
“I know you would. You're such a slut.” Dean smiled, stroking Sami's face affectionately.
Roman just wondered - once again. Somehow the two lunatics were perfect for each other. Dean was the dominant one - at least at first sight. Sami wasn't exactly submissive, he just liked being used as some kind of sex toy. Something Dean would probably never allow anyone. And although Sami let Dean order him around in bed and do all kinds of kinky things to him, Roman was sure that when push comes to shove, Dean would follow Sami to the end of the world without a question. Sami was strong, even more so since he let Dean and Roman have their way with him. For this was a rather special kind of courage needed and Roman knew that.
3. Like Light Does Moths
They went to a bar. Or a club? Roman wasn't much of a party animal, so he wasn't sure. Anyway, there was a long bar on one side and a small dance floor on the other. Roman was sitting at a table with his back to the wall, keeping an eye on both of his boys. He enjoyed being alone for once but not lonely, watching the people around him.
Dean was at the bar chatting with some of their co-workers. And Sami was in the middle of the dance floor with his arms up in the air, obviously having a great time. Roman had been staring at him for several minutes now, mesmerized. The sexy little motherfucker could dance.
No, in fact, he couldn't but nonetheless... the way he moved was so appealing because he didn't care. He had fun and he was attracting people like light does moths. There was a whole bunch of women around him getting closer, some of them trying to get his attention.
Roman couldn't help but smile. Fortunately Dean was busy elsewhere. There was a chance that he would have grabbed Sami's wrist and dragged him out of here immediately, fearing his precious lover would go astray.
Sami didn't seem to be interested though. He liked people in general and saw no reason to be rude or anything but he didn't encourage them either.
Eventually Roman walked over to him, slowly working his way through the crowd until he reached him from behind. He just couldn't resist and put his hands on Sami's hips. The younger man flinched slightly and turned his head. A smile spread on his face when he saw Roman. “Hey.”
Roman leaned down a bit and said into his ear: “You're very sexy.” _And you don't even know it_ , he added in his mind.
“Aw, thanks,” Sami replied with a crooked grin and took a step back - if on purpose or because of the crowd Roman couldn't tell - so that his ass bumped into Roman's thighs. It made him bite back a groan. He wasn't sure how far he was allowed to go in public but shaking along with Sami's movements couldn't be wrong right? And the ladies surrounding them were delighted. Sami lifted his arms over his head and hooked his hands behind Roman's neck, glancing up at him with sparkling mischief in his eyes. Roman swallowed hard. His jeans were getting much too tight in the front, with Sami rubbing against him.
“If we weren't in public I would take you right here and now,” Roman heard himself say close to Sami's ear. So far he had never been the one starting things. Sami laughed.
“You shouldn't go for that without Dean,” he said. “He might get pissed at you.”
“Right.” Roman tried to dismiss it all as a joke. However, Sami was right, they had never talked about the possibility of Roman and Sami having sex on their own. Sami was Dean's and Roman could easily imagine Dean having objections if they did something without him. | acc04aab809c44099f7cb80081b88376 | ['5485b30ef8e14f3e85d58730c4cffaa5'] | "You don't mind me sitting in your bed?" Saul asked with an ironic undertone Jesse didn't know what to make of.
"We can both sit on it if you don't mind. It's big enoug, I guess." Jesse didn't want to spend another evening on the floor. Or maybe there was some other reason too.
Saul gave him an amazed look.
"Like you said, I don't need much space."
They sat down next to each other - very close; their shoulders and legs touching. Saul didn't mind at all but he was afraid of the awkwardness that might come up. Jesse shifted and wriggled til he had found a position he was comfortable with. Saul waited it out patiently, trying not to smile.
"Are you done?" he asked when Jesse finally leaned his head back and sighed contentedly.
Jesse gave him a look that turned Saul's stomach upside down. Saul considered he was not gonna make it through the evening if Jesse kept on being so fucking sexy.
Jesse was a bit shocked when he found Saul's big blue eyes so close in front of him and he looked away quickly, his heart beating a little faster.
Neither of them paid much attention to the TV. Saul's brain was completely occupied with being aware of Jesse's proximity and Jesse got sleepy. The monotone voices on the show lulled him into slumber and suddenly Saul found Jesse's head leaning against his shoulder and his knees resting on his thigh.
A big smile spread over his face.
After a while of savoring Jesse's warmth and his weight against Saul's side he decided he couldn't stand it any longer without taking him into his arms. "Jesse?" Saul nudged him gently and Jesse opened his eyes. It took him a while to get the situation then he sat up. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to..." He broke off and rubbed his face like sleepy kids do.
"It's not that," Saul said, rolling his eyes. "You were asleep on my shoulder for almost an hour, unfortunately I have to go to bed now."
Jesse looked at him a bit confused.
Saul smiled at him. "Feel free to check on me whenever you have a bad dream," he teased, wanting to see Jesse blush again - with success.
"Hey, that's nothing to be ashamed of," Saul continued. He was so close - he leaned in to kiss Jesse on the cheek and stopped at the last moment. With a sigh he pulled back and smiled sadly. "See, _that_ was really embarrassing."
Jesse stared at him. "Wha - yo, di... did you wanna kiss me?"
"Just a little." Saul got to his feet. "And now I'm gonna go and hope the ground will open up and swallow me."
"Wait."
Saul turned around slowly and looked at Jesse who was standing on the chair now.
"Was that supposed to be a kiss good night?"
"Kinda."
There was a long exchange of looks then Jesse slumped back into the chair. "Night," he mumbled.
"Night." Saul went to his bedroom, mentally kicking his ass for being so stupid.
That night Jesse had a dream about kissing Saul. Real kisses - on the lips. When he woke up he was sweating and slightly aroused. He tried to make sense of it and came to the conclusion his sex-starved body had created this dream out of pure desperation. Though he couldn't stop thinking of it.
In the morning when Saul came over to say good bye he pretended to be asleep. He felt Saul's hand gently moving over his arm. "See you tonight," Saul said quietly and left.
Jesse couldn't go back to sleep. His thoughts were circling around the question what Saul was up to. Not that he didn't enjoy the attention Saul gave him, he just wasn't used to it, especially when it came from another guy. He couldn't imagine Saul actually having a crush on him... although he acted like itin a rather obvious way.
Saul wished nothing more than to go home and set things straight with Jesse. The hours seemed to extend endlessly and he couldn't concentrate on his work. He was afraid he had scared Jesse off with his behavior and he couldn't think of anything worse right now than losing him again.
He was prepared for all kinds of discussions when he opened the door of his apartment - even for the possibility that Jesse wasn't there anymore.
Instead he sat foot into a clean and tidy living room. He looked around, amazed. "What happened here? Jesse, what did you do?"
Jesse came out of the kitchen. "I thought since you let me stay here I could do something in return and, no offense, but it really needed to be cleaned."
"None taken," Saul said. "I know it was messy but you don't have to do this. You don't know what it means to me to have you here." _Shit, not prepared for this kind of talk_.
"So?" Jesse asked with a knowing smile. "What does it mean to you?"
_Shit, shit, shit_.
Jesse looked at him in silent amusement. Seeing Saul searching for words was new.
"I tried to kiss you! What do you think that means?" Saul blurted out, casting diplomacy into the wind.
"Usually it means that you're into me," Jesse replied. He tilted his head to the side and gave Saul a curious raise of eyebrows.
Saul opened his mouth and closed it again. The kid had really caught him off guard with this slightly flirty behaviour.
Jesse decided to have mercy on him.
"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. It's ok."
"No, it's not ok." Saul found his voice again. "I didn't plan on being so obvious but apparently I can't hide anything." He walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of gin.
Jesse made a disgusted face. "Really? Gin? Straight?" |
76dd42faaf324d4cae268049e29826cb | ['549a633ffeb34bbdb7599e1c76d7cd56'] | Bal laughed. “I do love the way your mind works sometimes. They’re on cardstock in the prom committee’s lock-up. I’ll steal one for you.”
“You’re a good friend.”
“Better than you. Meg tells me you didn’t know we were dating.”
Cas shook his head. “Nope, you’re not dating. You’re both just fucking with me. Just like Dean and this prom thing.” He covered his ears with his hands and started humming when Bal tried to protest. He kept it up until Bal poked him sharply with a pencil.
“Stop that or I’ll start texting you details of our sex life,” he said, glaring. “I’ll have you know that Mistress Masters really does like to be called that …”
“Gah, no! I yield.” Cas sighed and they both went back to sketching. At the end of class, he started up the conversation again. “What kinds of things do you do to take someone to prom? Other than buy tickets and a tux.”
“Flowers. A corsage and a boutonniere.”
“Are you doing that for Meg?”
“God no. We’re getting matching flasks instead. Engraved.” Bal smirked. “Hers is going to say ‘Queen Bitch.’”
“What’s yours going to say? ‘Dickhead?’”
“Probably.”
Cas slung his bag over his shoulder and they walked together to the next class. “Okay, flowers. Should I get flowers for us? I don’t know. Maybe I could make something.”
“There’s also the limo,” Balthazar said. “Arrive in style!” He threw his arms out in emphasis and barely missed hitting a freshman.
“I could get a limo,” Cas said, perking up.
“You could share ours?”
Cas paused for a moment at the door to their classroom. He imagined the four of them in a limo together and shuddered. “No, I think we’d better get our own.”
Bal nodded. “I regretted offering the second the words left my mouth. Meg would never have allowed it.”
* * *
For the rest of the day, Cas kept sneaking out his phone to research limo rates and other prom-related things. Theirs included dinner, so that was one thing he had didn’t have to worry about. There was also going to be a photographer to take prom portraits. Cas decided that was something that had to happen.
At the end of the day, he loitered near the entrance of the school texting Meg. He wanted to know about redoing his hair color. Should he try to match the blue of the tux accessories? Should they do it at home again, or have it professionally colored? What about style? And if he was going to have anything professionally done, should he get one of those straight-razor shaves that the websites talked about?
Meg wasn’t answering. He stared at his phone for a minute, trying to think up another question. From right behind him, Dean cleared his throat. Cas jumped, but recovered quickly. “Hello, Dean.”
“Yeah, uh. Hey.” Dean stared at him. Cas wondered if he had green accessories for his own tux. “So … prom …”
Cas nodded. “Yeah. I mean, yes. Okay. Prom.” He felt himself start to blush. “I can … I mean I was going to fix my hair. For pictures. I could dye it back to its natural color. If you want.”
Dean’s eyes wandered over his hairline. The pink and purple had faded and his mohawk had grown out. Cas ran his hands over it nervously. “What is your natural color?” Dean asked. “Brown?”
“Yeah. Kinda dark.” He shrugged. “Or I could do blue again.”
Dean ducked his head and scuffed his shoe against the pavement. “Yeah, you should go blue again.” He looked up and smiled. “It’d look good.”
He grinned back. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, I will.” They stared at each other for a bit. Castiel’s phone buzzed with a text, but he ignored it. “So I can get a limo to pick you up …”
“No, no limo,” Dean said, his smile fading. “Don’t rent a limo. We’re taking Baby. Got it?”
“Your car,” Cas said. His head buzzed a little. Of course Dean would want to take his car.
“Yeah. I know how much you like her,” he said with a wink.
“I never did get to check out the back seat.”
Dean blushed and his jaw dropped. They locked eyes again. Cas felt his face color as well. “I gotta go,” Dean said, rushing down the stairs. He got about twenty feet away and turned around. “Don’t forget! No limo!” He turned and ran.
* * *
Castiel’s frantic texts to Balthazar and Meg went unanswered all afternoon. He was pacing the house trying to analyze his conversation with Dean. He needed an outside perspective on it and his two best friends were probably off banging each other. Finally, in desperation, he called Gabriel.
His brother answered the phone after two rings. “Cassie!” There was a television or video playing in the background. Gabriel sounded exhausted and over-caffeinated. “What’s up, little bro? Distract me from studying.”
“I need advice.”
“And you called me? I’m honored! Was everyone else busy?”
“Yes. Anna’s not even home yet and no one else is answering my texts.”
“I’m not as honored. Okay, what’s got you so desperate that you called me about it?”
Cas rubbed his forehead. “Do you remember the last time you were home, the guy that came over? Dean?”
“The one you took up to your room?” Gabe sounded like he had something in his mouth. The visual of him sucking on a lollipop came to mind.
“Yeah.”
“And then completely ignored while he flirted with you?”
Castiel stopped and stared at the wall as Gabe’s words caught up to him. “Wait. What? No, he wasn’t flirting...”
“Bruh!” He took the candy out of his mouth with a pop. “I know what I heard. I am an expert eavesdropper.”
“Yeah, but we have this thing…” Castiel started to explain their prank war, but Gabe interrupted him. | 5ee24ffb361d48d0a8a391b16c6b22d8 | ['549a633ffeb34bbdb7599e1c76d7cd56'] | “I think your best bet is to head down to South Harvelle and find Bobby,” Ash said, fidgeting with the simple machine they’d been toying with earlier. “Ellen’ll make sure you’ve got supplies for the trip, I’ll bet.”
“That’s nice and all but if that’s where the Empire is going, shouldn’t we not go there?” Sam asked.
“They’re not going to South Harvelle,” Dean said. “They’re probably not going far from Harvelle Castle. We’ll need to sneak past them, which will be tough.”
“More like impossible,” Ellen said, letting herself into the workshop. She considered the state of the place and chose to lean up against the door instead of sitting. “They left too easily. This group is used to the desert and will set up a camp to watch people trying to sneak out. Let’s not look so guilty about it. You two should stay here for a bit and lay low. They won’t be able to wait us out for long, and we’ve got a regular caravans that come through every couple of days. Unless they’re ready for all-out war, we’ll be able to sneak you both out on one of those.”
“They made a threat against the castle, though,” Sam pointed out. “Doesn’t that imply they’re ready to go to war?”
Ellen shrugged. “I don’t think he has the authority or the firepower to do anything. It’s important news for the Returners, though. The Empire is pretty desperate to get you back if they’re resorting to threats.”
Sam frowned and bowed his head. “Maybe I should just go back to the Empire. You’d all be better off.”
“Don’t be dumb,” Dean said, cuffing the back of his head. “We’ve been over this.”
“We’ll figure something out,” Ellen added. “Dean, you and Sam stay in your room for now. I’ll assign some people you know to guard it. Ash, I need you to have all our engines working and ready to go in a moments notice, just in case.”
“What engines? What do they do?” Sam asked. Ash grinned and winked at him, leaving without answering.
Ellen chuckled at him. “You’ll just have to wait and see, boy,” she said. “Can’t give away all our secrets.”
* * *
Sam and Dean stayed in their room the rest of the day. Servants brought them books and meals when requested. Sam spent the time reading. Dean busied himself packing their things, saying that he wanted to be ready to go at a moment’s notice. Once he had everything together and double-checked, though, he got bored. Sam’s books didn’t interest him. Dean eventually pestered Sam into putting down his book and playing cards with him. After losing a few rounds, Sam threw his hand down in disgust.
“Ellen was right. You are a thief!”
“Hey!” Dean said, scooping up the pennies he’d won. “I’m a treasure hunter, and it has nothing to do with you sucking at poker.”
“Whatever. This is probably my first time playing, anyway.”
“It’s not like you’re losing your own money. This was all mine to begin with.” Dean shuffled the deck again. “And we’ve learned something else about you. You’re competitive, but you can’t bluff for shit.”
“I don’t like losing.”
“You do the puppy-eyed thing when your hand is crap.” Dean dealt another round. “Now let’s try this again.”
Sam grumbled and fidgeted but didn’t pick up his new cards. “I’d rather go back to reading.”
“Don’t think of it as losing, then. Think of it as learning! Bluffing is a good skill to learn.”
They spent the rest of the evening perfecting Sam’s poker face. No one came to give them any news about the Empire. They half-heartedly agreed that this meant things were fine. It got late, and they went to bed.
* * *
Some time in the wee hours of night, Dean woke with a start. He was instantly up out of bed and awake, looking and listening for what woke him. There was more light outside than he expected for this time of night, and he could hear people shouting in the distance. He woke Sam up and told him to get dressed in a hurry.
“There’s something going on out there. I’m going to go check it out. Grab our stuff and be ready to move.”
Once he was sure Sam was awake enough to understand, he slipped out the door. The guards were gone, and the inner ward was quiet. He made his way to roof to check the view. From up there, he could see that there was a fire at the outer wall.
Dean ran along the edge of the roof until he could see the commotion at the south entrance of the castle. There were two sets of Imperial magitek armor just outside the gates. A decorated Imperial officer stood between them, addressing the crowd at the gate. He could see Ellen behind a dozen of Harvelle guards. From the way she was dressed, she hadn’t been sleeping.
“Explain yourself!” she shouted over her soldiers. Years of public speaking gave her voice a resonance that carried over the destruction.
“Bring me the defector, now.” The Imperial’s voice carried as well, but unnaturally so. It sounded like he was right in front of Dean, and something about it stung the back of his mind. “Or else, enjoy the barbeque.” He motioned to the armor sets and they set jets of flame against the outer wall.
Dean saw Ellen say something to her guards, and they all retreated into the inner ring. The doors sealed shut behind them, and Dean decided to head back in as well.
Ash was waiting with Sam back at the room. Dean grabbed his bag. “What did you see?” Sam asked. “What’s going on?”
“They’re attacking the castle,” Dean said, taking his bag from Sam. Sam looked alarmed at the news. Dean turned to Ash. “What’s the plan?”
“Follow me,” he said, leading them away. |
c5ecca21ee6540e387c8de05abe940cf | ['54ae5177e2ac46c29953671b66cab69e'] | Slowly and casually (in case Dumbledore walked in) I crossed to the basin. A silvery strand swirled inside, circling, almost as though to hypnotize…I found myself leaning down and plunging my face into the water.
I appeared in a field. I surveyed the area; behind me was a group of homes that were clearly magical by their style and illuminated quality. I spotted two boys down the slope of the field, so I headed that way. “Hey, could you tell me how far I am from Hogwarts?” Neither seemed to hear me, but I was still a reasonable distance away, so I said more loudly, “Hello?”
The boys were probably eighteen years old and lay side by side on a large blanket, books piled around them like the walls of a fort. I moved to get a closer look. I was just about to try to get their attention again when sparks shot up from the air above them. I stepped back instinctively, but I had the increasing suspicion that I couldn’t be hurt, so I continued to approach until I could see they were practicing wandless magic.
Then I stopped. The pieces came together at once; the smirk, the bright eyes, old-fashioned clothing…it was Dumbledore. He was much younger, but it was him. I didn’t recognize the other boy, though something about him made me think I should recognize him. He was blond, seemed charismatic, and was arrestingly handsome.
As I finished assessing the two, Dumbledore leaned over and kissed the other boy.
A hot wash of embarrassment—but possibly excitement—flooded through me. I knew I was intruding on a secret, something very private, yet I couldn’t pull my eyes away.
“Ah.” The boy averted his gaze. “I thought you might have feelings for me.” He sat up.
Dumbledore studied him, waiting. I noticed I was holding my breath, too.
The boy turned so he was facing Dumbledore, then reached over and brushed the hair out of Dumbledore’s eyes.
The gesture, familiar yet more bittersweet, sent shivers down my spine.
“You are intelligent, incredibly gifted, and your companionship has been very important to me. Only—” He hesitated, and in that hesitation, I understood. “…Only I cannot return your feelings. I care for you deeply, and I love you, but not in the way you love me.”
Dumbledore sat up, eyes shining. “I see. I supposed, maybe, since you never expressed interest in women, that you might feel the same way. I’m sorry, Gellert, I—”
“There is no need to apologize,” the boy Gellert said, sighing, as though annoyed. “I’m flattered. So you know, if I were not so invested in our mission, I may well be interested in women. But romance is a distraction to the larger mission. Friendship is not harmful—helpful, in fact—but romantic love is harmful, you see.”
“I understand.” As Dumbledore averted his gaze, the scene sped away from me, and I lifted my face out of the water.
“What are you doing?” a voice asked sharply behind me. Dumbledore.
I turned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to see that. I was trying to kill time. I—”
“What did you see?” Dumbledore began to pace.
“I saw you and that boy, Gellert.”
Dumbledore took a deep breath. “And do you know who Grindelwald is?”
“Grindelwald?” _Of course, Gellert Grindelwald._ “That was—you two were friends?”
“Yes. Very few people, if more than one, know this about me.”
Which part of what I had seen was he referring to? He seemed about to scold me for intruding so I said, “I understand, sir. The—what you did, I understand.” I cocked an eyebrow, imploring him to know what I meant so I didn’t have to spell it out.
Surprised, Dumbledore took a moment to stand still in his pacing. Finally, he said, “This is my most carefully guarded secret. If I explain it to you, I want to know you will not share it with anyone, even your friends. Especially James.”
_Especially James?_ “Alright.”
Dumbledore regarded me, assessing my sincerity, then began to pace again. “We were both very ambitious teenagers. The summer we met, we had great ideas about how we would rule the world. Perhaps not literally, but we both wanted power more than anything else. When Gellert learned of my attraction to him, he used it to manipulate our relationship.”
“What do you mean?”
“He knew he could stretch the limits of our friendship and I would remain loyal. He was not malicious, but he knew he had a certain power over me.”
“You fought him, didn’t you? And then he was imprisoned? My parents must’ve told me about it, I can’t remember when, but…”
“We did have quite a falling out.” Dumbledore chuckled, but it rang hollow. “That is another story.” He fell into thought. “It may seem insignificant now, but if you share what you saw, or what I told you with anyone, the entire war could likely turn to Voldemort’s favor.”
I blinked. “How?”
“I would likely be forced to resign from my position as Headmaster. Hogwarts would no longer be safe, and I would fall out of favor with the Ministry.”
“For being…?”
“It harms my case that I chose Grindelwald, but yes.”
“Bloody hell.” I caught myself. “Oh, sorry, sir.”
“Quite alright.” Dumbledore was already in another place. “Anyhow, you wanted to see me?”
“Yes, I wanted to ask—has Snape been round?”
“Not since you were last here.”
“Good. I mean, okay. And that wasn’t why, actually, I just wanted to let you know we’re recording our research, and by the end of the year, we should have something useful to Damocles.”
“Excellent. I will let him know. Is there anything else?”
“No, sir, that’s all.” I made to leave. | cb5e0105c7ab4081b8928db80cf093d0 | ['54ae5177e2ac46c29953671b66cab69e'] | I studied James and Lily from across the room and realized their body language reflected ours. I averted my gaze just as James looked over. I nuzzled into the crook of Remus’ shoulder to see if I would make James jealous. When I glanced back over, I could tell he was annoyed.
A few days later, as we—the Slytherin and Gryffindor seventh-years—trudged back to the school from the greenhouses, we found James and Lily behind one of the sheds, snogging.
I realized, after a moment, that I had forgotten to breathe, my mouth agape. I caught myself and pressed my lips together once James met my gaze. Seeing the shock in my eyes, his excitement faded; it was the first time I’d seen them kiss, and he could tell my weak smirk masked what I was really feeling.
I followed Lily’s gaze and watched as Snivellus stormed off. I tried to read her expression, but it changed too quickly for me to place any one emotion—except, I realized, smugness. A seemingly absurd thought crossed my mind: what if she had meant for him to see them snogging?
**17 July, 1978 9:33**
I woke up to the sunlight. Pulling Remus’ arm off of me, I got out of bed, went to the loo, then returned to wake the others.
I poked James with my foot. “Stag party, tonight. Let’s get pissed. Wormtail’s working again, but we can get off our heads with just us.”
James rolled onto his back and stretched. “Sure. I want to enjoy my last night as a free man.”
Remus yawned. “Yeah, it’s gonna be tough, what with constant sex, working for the Order with your wife and your best friends…”
I rummaged through my things to find my Magically Automated Shaving Kit, then tapped the top of the box to set it to work. “How about London? We should use the Muggle money you have left over from last summer.” I glanced at Remus. “You up for it?”
Remus ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, why not?”
“Alright.” James went to his closet and started pulling clothes. “None of my trousers will fit you two, you’re too tall, especially you, Moony, but maybe something else…” He held up a black top, then tossed it to me.
Remus sat up and said, “What about my ‘Werewolves of London’ shirt?”
James grinned. “Perfect.” He pulled on jeans and a white shirt, then ruffled his hair and sat down, watching us change. “Isn’t it mad? I can’t believe I’m getting married tomorrow.”
Remus smirked. “To Lily, no less. Do you remember when you first told her you’d marry her?”
“Of course.” James leaned back.
I put away the shaving kit before surveying my features in the mirror. “I don’t remember.”
“You must’ve blocked it out.” James made eye contact with my reflection, trying to play off the implications of what he’d said with a smile. “Anyhow, I had asked her what she’d want to name our kids.”
Remus chuckled. “She said, ‘What makes you think we’re having kids?’”
“And I said, ‘If we’re going to marry each other, wouldn’t we have kids?’”
“And what she say to that?” I smiled, as though I could understand the fondness of the memory.
“She didn’t know what to say, it seemed. She told me to piss off.”
Remus glanced at me, catching the forced nature of my expression. “Not much has changed, then.”
That night, we Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron, then headed out onto Charing Cross Road. After walking down a few blocks looking for a place to drink, we stopped in front of the London Astoria. Posters hung in the windows, reading: THE SUNDOWNER CLUB HOSTS: BANG! MONDAY NIGHT DISCO.
“What about here? Disco is about as Muggle as it can get.”
“Sure.”
We followed the signs to the basement, and as we neared, the music grew louder.
James opened the doors, and we immediately froze. There must’ve been a thousand people filling the low-lit club, dancing under colored spotlights. But what took us aback was the realization that the vast majority of people there were men.
“It’s a gay club,” James shouted over the blare of “ _San Francisco/You got me/You got me, baby…”_
“Yeah, no shit.” A significant portion of the men were shirtless, and some looked our way as we loitered by the entrance. I had trouble taking it all in.
James put his arms around our shoulders. “Well, what are we waiting for?”
I looked at Remus, who shrugged weakly before saying, “Let’s drink first.”
We took a couple shots at the bar before mixing into the crowd. It was an oddly elating, albeit overwhelming feeling to be surrounded by hundreds of men like me. I felt as though we were sharing the same experience; a chance to break away from what was accepted, from passing in the straight world as the contained, edited versions of ourselves we were limited to, to something more real. And horny.
After an hour, we were sweaty, giddy, and more physical than normal. I had to (as subtly as possible) diffuse my hard-on several times.
After taking his shirt off only a minute prior, James attracted a man closer, taken aback as the man began to dance in front of him.
“I’m straight,” James said, slurring his words a little.
“Sure, honey,” he replied, placing his hands at James’ waist.
“I’m getting married tomorrow,” James said, half to the man, half to himself.
The man raised his eyebrows. “Does your fiancé know you’re a poofer?”
James laughed, and turned around so the man could grind against him.
Remus’ tolerance for alcohol was higher than ours since he was a werewolf, but still, the alcohol managed to dissolve the insecurities he had about his scars. He didn’t seem to mind the attention the marks on his torso had drawn. |
0685a6576fb74ac9b24f46de228e96d0 | ['54b5610de2cd42f295b133eebe0cee03'] | " _If you get her waterlogged, you are going to be the one to explain why to Master Eraqus," Aqua chastised lightly, folding her arms over her chest._
_Before Aqua had the chance to blink, Ventus turned on her and hauled her over his shoulder._
" _No, Ven! Get **her**!" she objected and frantically pointed to Kairi. "She is the one that wants it! Not me!"_
_Everyone was either laughing or watching as Ven lugged Aqua further out into the ocean before eventually, dropping her into the tide._
_Once Aqua resurfaced, she spat out the water that had gathered in her mouth and glared icy daggers at her foster-brother who only laughed at her._
The sound of Terra clearing his gruff throat brought her out of her reminiscence. He wasn't awake yet, but he was starting to stir. He would wake soon…
Being in the Dark Capital with Terra wasn't part of Aqua's plan and sharing a bed with him _definitely_ wasn't part of her plan. She wanted to become a Keyblade Master. She wanted to see the world, maybe even change it. Aqua wished for impossible things. She desired things that weren’t possible in the world she lived in. She had big dreams, but those dreams died in the face of reality. They had been turned into nightmares by the Overlords infected hands.
Aqua rolled onto her other side so that she could face the dual doors that led to the balcony. The tempting, afternoon sun shone brightly with vibrant hues of gold and orange and she began to wonder if she could sneak out onto the balcony for a bit before Terra woke up. The knight was a heavy sleeper, but she still wasn't sure if she could get out of bed undetected.
Timidly, Aqua sat up and lightly placed her feet onto the thick, red carpet that covered the floor of the room. The lush floor covering slid between her toes but before she could completely rotate her body in the direction of the glass doors that led to the patio, a firm, hot hand gripped her elbow.
A sharp gasp ripped from her throat and she turned to face the owner of the hand.
_"Where are you going?"_
She could feel his hand slightly twitching against her cool, ivory skin. The grip he had on her arm tightened with each rigid word he uttered.
"I-I was going to sit out on the balcony while you slept," Aqua confessed.
Even though she was telling the Dark Knight the truth, she still felt like she was admitting to some horrible crime. He inspected her with eyes that had narrowed into dangerous slits and it only intensified her misplaced guilt.
"Fine. Do what you want," Terra relented blandly and released her quivering arm. "But if you jump off that balcony or try to run off, I _will_ kill you."
His threat made her blood run cold. Normally, when someone said they would ‘kill you’ if you did something, it was an exaggeration to get a point across. However, when Terra said it, he probably meant that he would _literally_ kill her if she tried to escape…
The knight rolled over and slammed his head back into his pillow, coarsely turning away from her.
He was acting weird again.
"Where am I going today?" Aqua asked softly.
She had to ask. She didn't want to go _anywhere._ She was sleep deprived and she would be completely fine with playing hooky all day but it was making her nervous that they were staying in bed until the late afternoon. There would undoubtedly be repercussions for such defiance.
Terra snarled, making Aqua immediately regret the decision to try to converse with him. He was obviously grumpy and tired and she shouldn't have roused him.
" _You_ aren't going anywhere, but _I_ am going to see the Overlords," he grumbled into the fluffy surface of his pillow.
"What am I supposed to do while you're gone?"
She hated being cooped up in his room alone. When she was alone, she thought way too much and would quickly become stir crazy. It was different from when Terra was in the room with her. If he was with her, they could fight or talk, but if she was alone, she could only converse with her own depressing thoughts. The silence was much worse than any argument she could have with Terra. The silence reminded her even more of the grave, unbearable situation she was in.
"Sit on your precious balcony or something. Find a way to amuse yourself." Terra sat up when it was becoming clearer and clearer that Aqua wasn't going to let him go back to sleep. Now that he had started thinking and talking, sleep would be impossible for him to retrieve.
"Can't you send for Roxas?" she asked as Terra got out of bed and began stretching his knotted muscles.
"So you two can get into trouble? I don't think so. "Besides, I don't think Roxas is even in the palace or the city for that matter. I think he went to a prison or something."
"Well, can I come with you?" Aqua asked softly and watched her guardian with kind, compassionate eyes of endless blue.
Terra froze and his heart twitched. His royal blue eyes reluctantly gazed back at the source of the serene voice.
Aqua sat on her knees on his bed and she observed him with pure, endearing eyes. She genuinely wanted be with him or maybe she just didn't want to be alone… He wasn't sure which.
"No, I definitely have to go alone," he answered even though he wished he could take her with him. However, she could _not_ hear the conversation he was about to have with the Overlords.
Aqua's vibrant eyes fell. | e3e97465393342db8b7fbebb64f36329 | ['54b5610de2cd42f295b133eebe0cee03'] | _It was hard for Cloud not to scoff. Cid was talking about futures whenever Sephiroth was doing everything in his power to make sure there would be no future them and Cloud was honestly starting to think he'd get away with it. Cid was talking about choices he would probably never have, issues he'd never have the opportunity to confront. Their future was nothing if not uncertain. Nothing was promised. But even if it was, he couldn't make these kinds of decisions now…_
" _You're talking like we're gonna have a future," Cloud mused. "We haven't even defeated Sephiroth yet."_
" _Ha! Defeating Sephiroth won't make no difference! You could save the Planet five times over and still not deserve her!"_
_**FLASH** _
Cid probably hadn't meant it. Not to mention the fact that he'd been incoherent. It was probably just _man talk_ , drunken ramblings, or maybe even a joke he wasn't supposed to take to heart but that was exactly what he did.
How was Cid supposed to know he was poking a sensitive nerve? He had no way of knowing that the same thing had been implied and even flat out said multiple times throughout his childhood in Nibelhiem. Cid had no way of knowing that these things still bothered him to this very day, that they still haunted him and had a pretty significant impact on his thoughts and actions…
When Cloud crossed Seventh Heaven's threshold, he was still pretty buzzed. Their conversation at the bar and his memories had caused him to sober but he'd had another drink to compensate. Still, he wouldn't say he was drunk. He was just…un-sober.
After a night of drinking, most men came home belligerent, singing and rambling about things that could make sailors blush.
Cloud wasn't doing any of that. He was a little wobbly, a little buzzed.
Like always, Tifa had waited up for him. She was curled up in one of the booths nearest the entrance, sleeping peacefully.
Before lifting her and taking her back to bed with him, he knelt beside her and stared at her for a long-suffering moment, as if staring at her would help clear his head, as if looking at her could answer all his lingering questions.
His eyes wandered to her ring finger and he tried to imagine a ring there. It was a pretty easy task, surprisingly easy in fact.
He then looked down at his hand and tried to do the same thing. It was harder but once again, he found it could be done. But was it what he wanted...?
Not now but…maybe…someday.
Funny. He used to be too riddled with guilt to even _think_ about such things…but now...? He couldn't remember the last time the thought of getting married hadn't felt…trivial. Just being able to think about it without feeling nauseous was an improvement.
Sighing, he took her left hand and ran his thumb along the tops of her knuckles, specifically along her ring finger. He stroked it a moment longer before gently lifting her into his arms.
Tifa sighed contentedly as she almost always did anytime he got close to her. It made his heart swell every time she did it. It was always nice to feel wanted. It was even nicer knowing _she_ was the one who wanted _him_.
After successfully placing her under the blankets without waking her, Cloud got ready for bed and joined her without a second thought.
He was sleeping in his bed less and less. In that moment it dawned on him that he rarely slept in his bed at all anymore. At this rate, they'd have to explain the new sleeping arrangements to the kids soon. He was sure they'd already noticed. They weren't stupid and they'd have questions, questions he probably wouldn't be able to answer.
It also occurred to him that going back to his room didn't even cross his mind even though it was an available option. In fact, it would probably be easier to just go back to his room. It was less complicated, not nearly as messy. And it would require no explanation to the observant children in their home but his mind just hadn't gone there. He wanted to be here…with her. He preferred this to the ruthless, sleepless nights alone in a bed where Tifa wasn't there to comfort him.
Tifa knew his demons. She knew his insomnia and was equipped to handle it. Restful nights were always preferred but they didn't always happen. They were becoming fewer and farther between but bad nights did still plague him and when they did, he wanted to be near Tifa. It was an old habit but now, he wanted to be with her regardless. It was no longer just a matter of need. It was now a simple matter of want, something that had become ingrained in his subconscious, something as effortless as breathing.
Briefly, Cloud wondered if he should be concerned about all the issues this new sleeping arrangement could and would ultimately usher forth if it didn't change but he couldn't bring himself to worry about it. Maybe it was the alcohol lingering in his system but he couldn't keep from feeling like it would all work out, that it would be fine. It just felt… _right._
All strangely warm and fuzzy on the inside, (something that could again be a result of being buzzed) he pulled Tifa's back to his chest until she was completely flush against him.
She melted against him further as he fumbled with her shirt until he was able to flatten his hand against her bare stomach. |
2cf10935dc924242ba95b1c90b5451bb | ['54ba9abefb024104ba89173e5658b9c6'] | Ouss did remember he used to be exceptionally good at airborne archery, though any practice of that sort had flown out of the window by now. And so he had settled on his second set of impressive skills: cooking. That was how we had encountered Ouss. The night was dreary when we stopped in Noanar’s Hold, a village Helm said he had often visited. The way there had been cold and rainy, and we hurried to enter the White Hart Inn for a warm meal. The meal we were served was certainly warm, but better, it was divine. Helm inquired after the cook, and was told that it was an Aarakocra who had been looking for a job after he’d left the monastery that had cared for him. His food was certainly impressive, the innkeeper had said, but his wing was often in the way in the kitchen, and he had already broken multiple plates in fits of anger. Such a shame it was, but they would probably let him go. Helm, who always enjoyed good food, visibly perked up at that. The following day had a grumpy Aarakocra introducing himself to our group, saying he was temporarily joining us, until his wing would fully heal, and he could fly off again. He hated being stuck in one place, and so trudging along with a troupe was the lesser of two evils, he explained.
His wing did not heal. The poisonous breath of the green dragon had probably burned away any sort of restorative tissue in the flesh, Rhogar hypothesized. Unless an antidote had been applied immediately after contact with the poison, the wounds would never fully heal. Ouss, realising his wing would stay crippled for his foreseeable future, was crushed by the idea of never flying again. Many nights would have him drunk, lamenting about how he’d never again feel the crisp air pushing his body up, soar amidst the mountaintops, have water cling to his feathers after flying through a raincloud. However he bemoaned his depressing state, he made his suffering sound almost poetic.
Though I admittedly understood Ouss was in pain, I did not know why Helm allowed the Aarakocra to stay. Ouss was worsening with the moment, unhelpful and merely complaining his days away. It was a waste of Helms’ benevolence! He hadn’t had to prove himself, easily welcomed into the troupe because Helm was a glutton. And yet Ouss had the nerve to mope around, forego his cooking tasks and be a bother in everybody’s behind.
I could not stand it any longer. I confronted him on a third-day’s night, when he had not yet drunk himself into oblivion. The wind blustered outside, violently howling between the treetops, and I felt myself grow restless alongside it. I wanted to calmly explain my displeasure to him, I really did. But the storm outside fuelled my growing anger and before I knew I was shouting at him to stop his childish behaviour and do something with his miserable life. A gust of wind blew open the tent flaps and rushed inside, blowing Ouss over the chair he had been sitting on. And then, as sudden as a bolt of lightning, the wind stopped, and with it the frustration that had been broiling within me. Before Ouss could utter another word, I left the room.
The next morning, I awoke to a crumpled letter on my bed-end with a feather attached. Having been blown away by the wind the night before had reminded him of the harsh weather he was used to before, Ouss had written. However comfortable he had gotten, leading a lazy ground-dweller’s life was not what his heart wanted. So he had finally decided to leave, to try and find a temple that could heal his wounds or perhaps a magical mechanic that could craft a replacement for his wing. To say I was happy would be a lie. I was relieved that Ouss had finally gotten some of his thoughts together and resumed his life, but I worried about my temper from the previous night. Would I lose myself like that every time somebody got on my nerves?
\---
By the time I turned eighteen, I thought our troupe would remain the small group of five we had been since Ouss had left two years before. However, Helm had a surprise waiting in Urmlaspyr. The city, once plagued by the Shade enclave, was now again flourishing and brimming with life. Unlike most city visits, Helm did not go straight for the Inn’s district, but rather stopped in front of an imposing library. Stor, the ever studious scholar he was, rushed inside with the notion of ‘so many books he had planned to look up’. Kithri decided to stay outside since she had no interest in dusty old books. Which left Rhogar and me slowly following Helm into the library. Helm seemed to have been here before, because he strode in purposefully and went straight for a room in the back of the library. The secretary let us in with the message that the head librarian would soon arrive. | 54c5c3c3f7d749bf90a8c81b25f8915d | ['54ba9abefb024104ba89173e5658b9c6'] | The man looked taken aback by my words, but after a nervous chuckle he smiled again. “Ah, the pretty dancer from this midday. I certainly do wish to offer you a place in my troupe, but you seem not happy about that yourself. And though you danced quite beautifully before, you must understand I do not simply accept any dancer in my troupe… I see great potential in you, young lady, but that means you must prove that I’m not mistaken.” I nodded. A display of my arts, as he had asked earlier - that I could do. He brought me to a slightly emptier square, where he payed a flutist a couple of unarche to play me a song. I started with my usual routine, the typical Calishite moves I had copied off the exotic dancers I often saw. To bring some variety into the dance, I decided to add in my recently discovered twirling moves, taking more and more space on the square. Though it was already late in the evening and there was no sunlight to be reflected off my crystals, I knew the glow of the fires lighting the vicinity made my crystals glow red, and hoped the spinning would bring out that colour. I ended my performance by spinning around for the final time, and dropped to the ground in a split. Exhilarated because of the performance I just gave, I look around. The crowd that had formed during my dance erupted in cheers, and though the amount of people scared me a bit, the praise made me smile. I looked over to the short man. He was sporting a huge grin, eyes almost proud. He introduced himself as Helm, and I gave him my name.
“Well, Siliva, I will gladly welcome you into my troupe.”
\---
When I returned home with the news, my mother wasted no time on her decision. Go with the man, she said. Go, and never come back, because you will live a better life than you ever would here. I left, never to see her again. I found out about her death when I was sixteen. By then, the memories of her were already fading. I had not seen her since I was eleven, and had come to see the troupe I travelled with as my new family. Though I did not cry for her death, I felt guilty for having left her. And with the guilt came anger towards my father, who had left my mother after using her to spread his seed, so to speak. Had he not left her, she would not have crumbled under the pressure of raising a child alone. She would not have lived in poor conditions, shunned for having birthed such a strange creature, forced to take the lowest of jobs to still barely sustain her and her daughter. I wondered if he even knew of her death. I wondered if he had even known her.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hello! If you arrived at the end of my story, congratulations! You are one of the first to read this would-be BGS, except for the friends I shoved this story in the face, that is.
>
> This is the first story I have ever publicly posted (except if you count my answer on one of the Tumblr prompts floating around, but that one was barely 700 words long). I am thinking of, when I finish the whole BGS for Siliva, adding snippets of the real campaign, if I can nicely fit them in stories. Wouldn't be much fun to read "You try to attack. You miss. The enemy attacks. They miss. You attack again, you do damage" and so forth. Let me know if you'd be interested?
>
> Also I would love to hear any critique you have - be it good or bad. The bad thing about proof-reading your own stories is that you know what you meant to write, so you don't find the unlogical sentences.
>
> I hope you had fun reading this!
2. The troupe
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Away from the big city, Siliva gets to know the rest of Faerun. But more importantly, the other troupe members who she will spend her time with.
The troupe I joined wasn’t particularly big. Soon after joining, I befriended a halfling acrobat named Kithri who seemed just as blunt as me and bore a dislike for aristocrats just as big as mine. Though, she did warn me, since a big part of our stays in cities relied on the hospitality of those nobles, I was to behave in their company. When we were in private, it was absolutely okay to gossip about them, she promised me. Kithri and I often practiced together. I was fairly competent in acrobatics and tumbling myself, so Helm wondered if we could perhaps make an act for two tumblers. Since I weighed relatively little, Kithri was able to do certain manoeuvres with me. Sometimes I wondered if Kithri wasn’t just leading me on. Surely a woman of her age had better things to do than to hang out with a child. But she assured me, after chastising me for calling her old, that I was more fun to talk to than those other “boring adults”. I suspected that, deep in her heart, Kithri was just as much a child as I was.
\--- |
2de7e9effa8541318f3f3b95a8d22d99 | ['54c75966cfdb4fde8c9c0850b5acfdeb'] | But he couldn’t let his mind wander. He was afraid of his own brain. What if he felt down? What if he thought of… stuff he shouldn’t think about?
He had nothing to do with drugs anymore.
But he had to do his best to make it stay this way.
When they were leaving the elevator, one of his crutches got stuck in the grove between the elevator and the floor and he almost fell down on the ground. But before that could happen, a pair of strong arms caught him.
“Haru! Be careful,” Makoto said with a little frown. “I knew this wasn’t the best idea…”
Although the little wrinkle on his forehead was cute, Haruka didn’t like seeing him so worried all the time. That’s why he leaned closer to the older man, standing next to him and looking like he was considering carrying him back home, and pressed a quick peck on Makoto’s cheek, which caused the other to blush furiously.
“Don’t worry,” he said simply and started walking, while leaning onto his crutches, towards Yamazaki’s office again.
“W-wait!” Makoto had to walk a little faster to catch up with him. He still looked a little surprised or confused, but he was smiling. Haruka looked at him and smiled back. It was a faint, almost-not-there smile, but it was clearly a smile.
Finally, they were standing in front of the door that lead to Yamazaki’s office.
“Are you ready?” Makoto asked.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready, but let’s do it now.”
Makoto knocked on the door and after getting permission, he opened it.
“Hey,” he said and his voice sounded a little cold. Did they really have a fight over Makoto’s days off?
“Hey,” Yamazaki answered in a similar tone. Haruka started feeling uncomfortable immediately.
“Hello,” he mumbled politely once he entered the office.
“What the hell happened to you?” Yamazaki raised an eyebrow. He definitely wasn’t in the best mood. And Haruka found it hard to speak up, because he felt like the other was about to scold him. He started feeling nervous and anxious.
He would give anything to get a shot right now.
No, no, no, no, absolutely _ no. _ This kind of thoughts is forbidden. Drugs are a no.
“That doesn’t matter. Is everything ready?”
Haruka was really thankful to Makoto for speaking up instead of him. For everything he had done for him… He hadn’t thanked him properly yet.
But the atmosphere in the room was still cold.
“Sure. I’m staying here, though.” Yamazaki leaned against his chair and crossed his legs under the table.
Makoto frowned. “Why?”
“That doesn’t matter. The car is coming soon, you can wait outside.”
“I thought we were going to make the video indoors.” Makoto placed both his hands on Yamazaki’s table and leaned forward. “What does this mean?”
“I changed my mind.” Sousuke started reading a piece of paper, completely ignoring them both.
“I see,” said Makoto all of sudden, the angry expression disappeared from his face. “I know I went too far, Sousuke. I’m sorry. But don’t involve Haru, please.”
Haruka was absolutely confused now. What were they talking about?
Yamazaki finally lifted his eyes up and looked at Makoto. Then he pointed with the piece of paper he was holding at Haruka.
“You wait outside.”
The blue eyes found Makoto automatically and when they found a nod and a calming smile, Haruka nodded and left the office. He headed right to the end of the hall where he had seen a table, a few chairs and an automat with coffee. He sat down, cursing a lot, because it wasn’t the easiest thing with the crutches. Finally, he managed to do so and leaned the crutches against the table.
He still felt uncomfortable. He had no idea what was Yamazaki’s problems nor what had Makoto done. He was biting his lower lip and after a while he started biting even his nails.
It had been a while since he wasn’t high and this feeling was a little weird. He wasn’t calm. He was nervous and confused and full of emotions and had no idea how to express all of this and keeping it inside hurt too much. That’s why he was doing drugs. To forget. To stop feeling.
But now…
One of the crutches fell down on the ground, followed by the other one.
“Shit,” Haruka hissed and reached for them, but they were too far away. Great, just great. Just when he thought that everything was going to be okay…
Suddenly he saw a hand picking up the crutches and placing them back where they were before, leaning against the table.
“Thank you,” Haruka looked up and blinked when he saw a person he didn’t expect at all.
“No problem,” said Kou and gave him a little tired smile. “Do you need anything else?”
“Yes, actually. Do you have a ciggarete?”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So, what do you think about this? Did you like it? Did you hate it? Please, leave me some comments, so I know that you are still interested!
>
> Come talk to me on Tumblr (haruka-nanasodone-with-you.tumblr.com) or Twitter (DaniLovesSatan)!
19. Chapter 19
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hello, everyone!
>
> I'm back with a new chapter - this time unbeta-ed, because my beta is busy and I've been waiting for over a week. I decided to post it, because I need some feedback to continue writing, since I've been drowning in self doubt (again). I apologise for any mistakes and weird lines you will probably find and I'll probably post the beta-ed version soon. | e2a6d1169e42447e95a175fbaa82b19e | ['54c75966cfdb4fde8c9c0850b5acfdeb'] | > it would be really kind of you to leave a comment, it's what fuels me to write more! <3
> why do i write so much when im sleep deprived? also sorry it might be a bit weird im not at my best (at the hospital again, actually) but im too inspired to just ignore the ideas! anyway i'll shut up now!
> twt: racooneyess
6. Chapter 6
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> “Sorry. I didn't want to bring up anything dark.”
>
> “No, it's okay. It's better that we talk about this.”
>
> “But it makes you sad.”
>
> “Of course it makes me sad.”
>
> “I don't want to make you sad.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> i'll soon update the tags when i get my laptop bc jin actually suffers too!
As it got warmer outside, the layer of snow got thinner. After Namjoon parted with Seokjin, and then with Yoongi, he found himself standing in front of a community center, where the Anonymous Alcoholics sessions took place. He was lucky he was there early, despite the darkness outside - he still had about an hour before it was supposed to begin.
He was feeling lost. The excitement from being around Seokjin and Yoongi was gone, all that was left was sadness, emptiness, and the strange uneasiness.
He left the community center and walked into the nearest store. He knew he promised Seokjin to stop drinking. He had promised the same thing to Yoongi countless times before, and now he said he would go to the therapy session. But he was in so much mental pain, so desperate and physically sick - this was the only solution he could think of. The only solution he wanted.
Instead of going to the AA, he got drunk. And he truly, deeply hated himself for that.
***
The following day, Yoongi was sitting on the train with his hand placed on Jimin's thigh. He had no idea where they were going, since the whole trip was Jimin's idea. Jimin was the one who called him and announced that they are surprise travelling.
Yoongi softly caressed Jimin's thigh with his thumb, closing his eyes with a light smile on his face. The warmth of the train was making him sleepy. He felt a small movement next to him as Jimin placed his head on Yoongi's shoulder.
The moment was so peaceful, Yoongi nearly forgot that there were mainly bad things in his life. Well, he couldn't really say that there were _ mainly _ bad things now. He chose to ignore the fact he was dying, despite the illness reminding him of it every day by sending him into terrible coughing attacks. He also experienced fainting a few times - he didn't tell Jimin about that, of course.
But really, excluding his illness, everything seemed to be okay. He actually felt alive which hadn't happened for years; he didn't remember the last time he felt this good. His antidepressants probably worked as well, as he hardly experienced depression nowadays. Now that his death was approaching, he wasn't even mad that he spent a majority of his life depressed and in hospitals. He wouldn't had met Namjoon, if he didn't end up in a mental hospital, after all.
He felt himself dozing off and then suddenly Jimin was carefully shaking his shoulder, waking him up because they were supposed to get off the train.
They walked hand in hand through the snow - there was more of it in the countryside than in the city. Jimin seemed unusually excited, but they soon had to stop and Yoongi sat down in the snow, running out of breath. Jimin squatted down next to him and placed his hand on Yoongi's shoulder, caressing it.
“I'm sorry I got too excited.” He looked genuinely sorry. “I should have thought more of you.”
“It's okay, Jimin. It's not your fault I'm crippled.”
“Don't say that.”
“It's true.”
“Yoongi. What's wrong?”
Yoongi sighed, realising it was hard to hide things from Jimin now. Also, he was being too mean.
“I'm sorry. It's just that on the train I realised that life is not that bad. But now I can hear the clock ticking again and everything sucks.”
“The clock?”
“Ticking away my time.”
“Oh.” Jimin moved closer until he fell over and ended up sitting in the snow, too. He then hugged Yoongi and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Don't think about such stuff. I'm glad you realised life is not all that bad. You should stick to that thought.”
Yoongi held onto Jimin as his life depended on it, just like Jimin held onto him the other day during his breakdown.
Sometimes, people are meant to be there for each other.
“You must be cold. Let's go.”
“What about your breath?”
“I'm fine now.”
They got up and again, hand in hand, walked towards their - for Yoongi - unknown destination. Yoongi looked around at the houses and fields covered with snow.
In the beautiful scenery, something was missing.
“Do you know what I hate the most about this illness?”
“What?” Jimin looked at him and his cape slid into his eyes, so he shook his head.
“That I can't smoke.” Yoongi was taken aback by Jimin's beauty, so he said that in a dreamy voice.
“Oh. So the fact that you can't smoke is worse than dying?”
“That's us smokers, I guess.” Yoongi shrugged and suddenly frowned, as another thought crossed his mind. “Well, actually. The thing that pisses me off the most is that I can't be with you longer.”
Jimin was quiet, so Yoongi looked at him again and saw the other looking really upset.
He stopped and Jimin made a few steps before stopping as well.
“Sorry. I didn't want to bring up anything dark.”
“No, it's okay. It's better that we talk about this.”
“But it makes you sad.” |
19845c037f8548929b1220cd76c7dca4 | ['54ce25a730434e8985de56b868078968'] | “You _bettered_ mnemosurgery?” Perceptor raised a brow. If the thought of Brainstorm plus mnemosurgery hadn’t been so terrifying, he’d have been impressed. Scratch that. He was terrified AND impressed. And, oh so, probably dead. Messing around with somebody’s mind was dangerous. The psychological ramifications alone would be innumerable, and that was if he survived the physical act. One wrong jab, and forget Quark, he’d be a drooling mess on floor in zero time flat.
Perceptor jumped as Brainstorm’s fist hit the wall, face turned in an ugly sneer, “Oh?”
“Oh, now you’re interested in what I’ve been working on!? I’ve been hinting for decaorns, just HOPING something I did, would interest you enough for you to take your head out of your aft and pay attention to me! Fine!” He threw up his hands, stalking across the room, drawing in so close their noses almost touched.
Breath hot on Perceptor’s cheek, he spat, “Fine, I’ll tell you _everything._ Every. Single. Slagging. Detail. Then, maybe, for once, you’ll acknowledge my expertise. Give me the praise, I so deserve.”
Perceptor blinked. Apparently he’d said the wrong thing. Coolant condensed on Brainstorm’s plates, as he panted, drawing in large vents of air. Running a hand over his face, he regained his composure.
“Like I was saying mnemosurgery requires extensive psychological knowledge. This formula is very special,” he boasted, “Most mnemosurgeons use their needles to physically tap into the brain module, manually connect or disconnect synapses. This formula bypasses the need for physical manipulation. It was created custom-built with you in mind, Quark. Artificially recreated: all your memories, character traits, little ticks and quirks. Just like injecting a vaccine, except the antidote is memories!”
He paused, “Obviously, I couldn’t add all your memories without the aid of an actual mnemosurgeon, I just don’t have the access without directly injecting into your brain module. But I think I’ve gotten all the most formative ones. All the ones of us.”
Perceptor laughed.
He’d survived a lot of slag. A war’s worth of horrors. Perhaps too many, to be brought down here, captured by a mad friend in a glorified storage closet. But wasn’t that always how things ended? With someone you used to know.
He raised his chin, he’d fought his fight, “Do it.”
3. In which Energon is eaten
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Short Chappy, but it had an organic-feeling ending that felt like a waste not to end with
The muted glow of stars filtering in through the observation window greeted him as he awoke. Perceptor stretched, swaddled in a thermo blanket and hazy aftermath. He yawned. Aftermath? Of what he wondered. Batting away the thought, he snuggled deeper into the plush pile. For once in his function, there was nothing urgent required of him and he was content to allow his mind wander. In the distance the muffled sound of a holoscreen played, light laughter of a daytime talk show absorbing the silence.
He pulled the thermo blanket off with a content sigh, sitting up. The room contained few personal touches, a souvenir here, Polaroid there, but was warm and white. Natural light flickered through the observation window casting shadows on the walls. Perceptor watched the patterns twinkle and wink. Had he been doing something? Having absolutely zero recollection of where he was or why felt like it really should have had a higher impact on his mental state. Instead it was oddly freeing. Like drifting on a cloud or floating in nothingness. He wriggled in the berth, allowing the organic material to slide over his protoflesh, silky and divine. Another peal of televised laughter rang from the other room. He groaned, burrowing deeper, he should probably figure out what was going on. Make sure someone hadn’t accidentally rewired gravity polarity, reanimated corpses, or something equally stupid.
Folding the blanket, Perceptor sat it at the foot of the berth, before crossing the room. The adjoining room’s door was ajar revealing a living area of sorts. In it another mech sat on the couch, tinkering with a circuit board, the table before him littered with spare parts, nuts and bolts. A glass of energon sat precariously close to a beaker of acid. Adding to the din, a hand-held radio chirped out Cybertron’s Top 40.
Perceptor observed the other mech. His back was turned, absorbed in his work, occasionally laughing along to the host’s pitiful stabs at humor.
The corner’s of Perceptor’s mouth turned up. How had he never noticed Brainstorm’s subtle sheen? The perfect ratio of smooth matte and high-gloss. And the way his optics lit with keen insight. Perceptor’s mouth dried.
“What’s up, Quark?” He asked, optics not leaving his work.
Perceptor froze, energon draining from his face as his memory core helpfully booted up the last few orn’s events. Brainstorm. The plot. The needles. Quark. Energon roiled in his tanks threatening to spill over and for one awful second the room span.
Referring to Perceptor as naive would be incorrect, nor would anyone ever call him slow. This sudden Brainstorm infatuation were the definite results of experimentation. Brainstorm’s theory had somehow contained merit, even if it hadn’t totally succeeded. He was under no misconception of who he was. Still the knowledge did little to detract from his burgeoning affection. Primus help him, even the minute twitches of his wings, hiked high with trepidation, were endearing.
Belatedly, Perceptor realized he’d been standing there, mouth agape in the room’s dead center. His cheeks colored. How long could he stand here, stupefied, grappling with this onslaught of mistrewn emotions before Brainstorm assumed cortex damage?
Brainstorm’s brow furrowed, “You feeling alright? You look a little pale. Why don’t you sit on the couch? I’ll warm up an energon!”
Brainstorm steered him to the couch, before scurrying to the connecting kitchen, setting a kettle to the burner, back once again turned. | c7d3d6b6b5cd47cfbeef5b68e51adde2 | ['54ce25a730434e8985de56b868078968'] | “I’m proud of you for putting your differences aside. Both of you.” And with that hopped out. Not a man of many words, their boss.
Kaz watched the Boss’s form grow smaller and smaller before finally disappearing into the brush lands. I’m proud of you. If only he’d thought to bring a recorder. As if the words weren’t already burnt into his mind, scalded like a hot poker. Something else settled deep in his chest. A lingering doubt.
“Do you feel…kinda bad?”
“About what?” Ocelot leafed through some paperwork.
“Misleading the Boss like this.”
Ocelot flipped another page, “Not even a little.”
“Me neither. But I feel like I should be.”
Ocelot shrugged, dog-earring a corner, “If it’s any consolation, he lies to you too.”
“Very funn—Wait, did you hear that?” Kaz strained his ears. There. There it was again. A slight shuffling.
Ocelot was already up, hand on his holster. A supply crate in the corner shifted the barest centimeter. So slight if he hadn’t been watching he wasn’t sure he’d have noticed. Kaz crept forward supporting himself against the metal framework of the helicopter. In his peripheral Ocelot nodded slightly, gun drawn.
In one swift motion he tipped the box. Loose shell casings and ammunition spilled out, ricocheting across the floor. Kaz rapt at the crate smartly with a crutch.
“I’m coming out! Don’t shoot!” Came a muffled voice. High-pitched. Not a man then. A woman or child perhaps. Dragging himself by the elbows Eli wriggled his way out from the crate, expression defiant as always.
Ocelot leveled his revolver before tucking it away again. Ocelot had found his spy.
“What do you want, Eli?” Kaz asked. Exasperation was quickly replacing the adrenaline.
“I thought we were evacuating base again and hopped in.”
Kaz stared dumbfounded. Was the kid even trying to lie? That line hadn’t even worked the first time.
His disbelief must have shown. Eli scrabbled up. The glint of a parring knife clutched in his hands,“I’ll tell him!”
“Tell who what now?” Kaz asked, crouching cautiously. Such a tiny knife could hardly do much damage, especially handled by a child. But he’d also seen Eli with an improvised weapon before. The kid was vicious.
“That you’re lying to him.”
Ocelot snorted, “You don't even know what we’re talking about.”
“Everything alright back there?” Pequod asked.
Ocelot waved a lazy hand, “Everything’s under control. We’ve just got an unexpected guest.”
“I do too,” Eli interrupted, “I know you’re just pretending to get along and I know that he’s not the real—”
Ocelot lunged for the knife, knocking it across the cabin. But Eli was ready descending upon him like a wild animal. The two tangled in a flurry of limbs. A strong kick sent Eli tumbling across the cabin panting. The two eyed each other and for a brief moment Kaz thought it over. Ocelot must have thought so as well. He didn’t notice the missing knife nor the gleam of silver in Eli’s palm until it struck.
Ocelot stumbled backward.Ocelot froze suspended before the open door, his heels teetering perilously off the edge, a blossom of red growing on his chest. The wind whipped Ocelot’s scarf. Kaz leaped forward, careening to the ground as he grasped for purchase of the fluttering material. Hopes to yank Ocelot back in were dashed as another gust danced it away from his outstretched fingers. Instead he found himself overbalancing and barreling straight towards Ocelot. Ocelot crumpled under Kaz’s additional weight with a sickening crack. And for the umpteenth time in so many days Kaz found himself plummeting through the air. |
dc73f04c7ae844a9afec0062834b52c4 | ['54d2c548b8e9418ab43acd1ffec292bb'] | manabee movie
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> sansaka feel
According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a cyclist should be able to fly. Their nonexistent wings are too small to get its little body off the ground. Manami Sangaku, of course, flies anyway. Because Manami doesn't care what humans think is impossible. Blue, blue. Blue, blue. Blue, blue. Blue, blue.
The first time Onoda Sakamichi rode alongside Manami he was shocked to see the blue haired climber from the rival team had fucking wings, what the fuck thats not even a real thing who sees wings on a cyclist when they ride with them, i hate this anime.
The black haired 'otaku' had a really fun time riding (with) manami and he had really liked him, i mean the kid was fucking gorgeous like holy shit. onoda didnt know many people, specially people who liked climbing hills. the only guy that he knew enjoyed climbing hills was his senpai, Makishima but seriously he never even saw him smiling while riding what the fuck old man show your happiness a little will you. also he was pretty sure his senpai was gay with that one black haired guy with a headband that said onoda was like 4/10 wtf rude. But the blue haired teen also known as Manameme Sangaku showed the most angelical smile when riding hills. just like onoda did. except manami's was hotter bc holy shit manami can u get more attractive. i dont think so.
As fun as riding with manami was, onoda couldnt stop telling him he would return the fucking bottle what the fuck onoda he gave it to you cant you accept a gift from a guy whos obviously in love with you? jesus christ. Manami insisted that he kept it and fUCKING SHIUT ONODA SHOUVLVE DONE THAT BECAUSE IN VOL 29 HE TRHOWS IT AWAYA WHEN RETURNED I HATE THIS MANGA FUCK YOU MANAMI. | 3ffc3b5de26343feb7b420a9daad220a | ['54d2c548b8e9418ab43acd1ffec292bb'] | iwaoimeemesss
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
Oikawa Tooru is not a genious, is what most people would say. but Iwaizumi Knew Better. he was Not a genious he was a big gay, thats it. a big gay gay
iwaizumi hajimeme was a young memer. he has only recently found out about 9gag. his friend and partner in memes, Kunimeme akira told him he saw a really funny meme on tumbler dot com. he sent the link to iwachan who opened, and since he was a cool guy who knew computer stuff, he found that the source was 9gag. (?? com ??
the first meme he found was a banana cut int the form of daarthtb eveird. Great meme"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
he absolutely had to show his childhood friend and maybe Crush ? :O this funny meme . there was no better way of showing his undying love for the setter than sending him memes. he looked aat the time 1:20 am. perfect. was oikawa sleeping? probably. did he care? no.
iwa sent him the funny meme and also a link yo Le internet medley over 40 memes in a song !!!!!!!!1
oikawa was So angry what the fuck iwachan he wss trying to sleep those feelios he looked at ehe message and he saw it was a stupid meme
what the fuck
who even goes on 9gag anymore. everyone knows the cool memes are on cuantocabron.com . just look at the latest meme... a kermit the Frog meme now THATS hip and cool not like that boring darth................ vader........................old sport
then oikawa opened the youtube video......... oh boy he sure hoped it wasnt a rick roll. did iwachan even know what a rickroll was'? he was still stuck in the 2012 memez
he opened the video
over 40 memes in a song? yeah sure
he watched the whole video and tried to count each meme. sometimes he couldnt keep up so he starteed again. when he was finally over he texted iwaizumi "WHOA IWACHAN THERE WERE ACTUALLY OVER 40 MEMES THAT WAS GRWAT!!!!!!!!!!"
"oikawa it is 10 am you are late for practice and schoool you missed like 3 periods come here right now" "iwachan its oyur fault fuck u im never looking at ur shitty memes again" oikawa did not go to school that day. instead he looked at the video suggestions on the 40 memes video...they were so good-.. like the pluma pluma gay video. quality. oikawa was straight tho
was
until he met iwaizumi hajime
its funny bc they mey when they were kids was oikawa ever straight?
probabyl not iwachan has been in his life for so long i dont think there was am onment when he thought dam im straight
so he looked at the clock again. it was 21201000pm great time
he called iwachana dn tsendt him one of those shitty valentines cards "iwachan i luv u x3" "oikawa it is not the 14th yet go agway2 "" NOOO!!!!!!!!!!! he wohld have to wait................ until the day........... to express his epicfeels............ to be contiuend?????????????!!"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :O
**Author's Note:**
> i dont think there will be a 2nd part actually |
ed023b0e08c143a6a5594095f55ba5cd | ['54e23816ea2d4ca7a292ecb43f36023c'] | Again, Horace shifted nervously, nodding in response. “Of course, I didn’t want to press the issue, just saying, heh.” He replied clumsily. “But, other than that, it was great! We had a movie night, party games, recreational activities, it was great.”
“Other than the girl who went missing.” Miles said from the head of the table, causing Richard to look up suddenly. Horace sat up, quickly raising a hand.
“Oh no, no, she didn’t really go missing—I mean she did, but we found her. Didn’t go over the border or anything, just partied a little bit too hard.”
“Hm.” Was all Richard had to say in reply, relaxing slightly.
A sudden clink made all five attendees look up, and Horace looked down. “Oops, dropped my pen, sorry.” He said, ducking under the table.
Richard’s gaze slid up slowly to meet James’, and they shared a look. Though James lacked a considerable amount of tact in Richard’s eyes, he at the very least could hold a serious conversation without bumbling around hard subjects. Horace sits back up, pen in hand, almost hitting his head on the table as he did so.
“Yeah so, uh—Oh, that reminds me, I wanted to tell you, our meteorologists sighted a hurricane not too far off from here! Yeah, especially after the tropical storm a few weeks ago, pretty unlucky holiday season I suppose.” He continued coolly, throwing a glance at the partially-cloudy sky. A somewhat chilly breeze blew over the clearing, nipping at the crackling fire nearby. “Thought I’d let you know! I mean, you probably knew that already, you can track weather or something can’t you? Either way, very interesting, going to be a category three I believe, if it doesn’t de-intensify by the time it hits the shore!” Horace babbled on, fidgeting absentmindedly with his pen.
“We figured as much, lucky we moved camp when he did.” Replied Richard after a long sip of black coffee. “Too much flooding in the creeks and other nearby water sources, so we didn’t want to take any chances. We got settled alright though.”
“Though even if it wasn’t flooding, I don’t think it would have been wise to stay near chemical-filled water.” Eloise pointed out, raising an eyebrow.
Richard shot her a look, massaging his temples with one hand. Thankfully, she decided not to press the issue. He looked down at the clipboard and began to write meeting notes. James and Miles shared a glance, though they both looked over as Horace began swatting at a bug. Not a bug, a butterfly, hovering tauntingly out of reach. “Go on, ‘git!” Horace said under his breath, a bit too mild-mannered to swat at and kill the thing. It fluttered its way out of reach and came to rest on the end of Richard’s pen as he was writing, perching there contentedly for a few minutes before disappearing back into the shadowy jungle.
“Oh, yes, flooding must be terrible!” Horace mused, taking a glance at the small, laminated map of the island on the table. “We could always help with that kind of thing if you needed! Not that you do need it, I mean—”
Richard blinked. “I don’t think we need help. How would you help with flooding, hypothetically?” He continued, deciding to humor him.
Horace sputtered a little, not exactly expecting that response. “Oh, I mean—Probably we could widen out the river with a little machinery, not too much, or help with a dam, provide shelter—” He paused, gauging Richard’s reaction.
“Though that’s, erm, amicable, I don’t think your modification of the island’s land would be very suitable.” Responds the advisor, leaning his forehead into his palm and resting an elbow on the table.
“Right, right, just a suggestion.” Horace nods, shuffling a bit in his seat. “Though, another thing I wanted to bring up was the potential for solar panels as a power source!”
Richard raised an eyebrow. “Solar panels? Where would those be?”
“Above-ground, of course. We could probably affix them to the top of the pylons and houses, or at the very least within the boundaries of the pylons.”
“That’s a reasonable suggestion. In my opinion, much better than risking lives on both sides by digging far underground of a dangerous and unreliable source of power.” He mused. At that remark, everyone fell silent, especially Horace, who was stunned to say the least.
“Not to interrupt the good awkward silence we’ve got goin’ here,” started James, kicking one leg up to rest it over the other, “But I think we should move on to the food drop, seven days from now.”
“Good addition,” Richard said, “We’ll make our plans to stay away from the area, then.”
“G-Good, glad that’s settled.” Horace said, swallowing awkwardly. “Oh, and we’re having a sub of emergency materials coming in tomorrow night.”
“That’s news to me, H.” James said, sitting up. He glanced to Miles, who only shrugged in response. Richard looked from the security members to Horace, confused.
“Emergency materials?...” He echoed, waiting for an explanation.
“Oh, not weaponry emergency or anything,” clarified Horace, “Just some materials we needed supply of. Yarn, cloth, that kinda thing.” He waved his hand dismissively.
“Yarn? For a Christmas sweater emergency, I assume.” Piped up Miles, joining everyone else at the table in staring expectantly at Horace.
The mathematician rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled sheepishly, quickly throwing James a glance that said something along the lines of ‘let’s work this out later.’ “Obviously more than that, just general materials.”
Richard, sensing the general tension at the table, sighed and wrote on his clipboard once more. “Duly noted.”
“Err—Enough from my side, I assume you all have been doing well?”
“Hm? Oh, we’ve been fine. Other than the move and the chemicals in the water issue we’ve been doing good, thriving. I’ve been very busy.”
“That’s good! I think I’ve asked this before but, what exactly do you do over there? You’re always quite busy.” | 7de42bfa1b794d878fa80ba76b5eb9d4 | ['54e23816ea2d4ca7a292ecb43f36023c'] | “Come on, I’ll take you to the infirmary.” Rowan said quietly. Their eyes met for a moment, and Ben shakily adjusted his glasses. The moment would have been tender, but Rowan broke it with a paranoid glance over his shoulder, and then somewhat roughly hurrying Ben along to the infirmary.
Though Rowan quickly made an excuse to disappear, Ben came home floating on air. He talked to me, he touched me, I can’t believe it. It almost made him forget about being beat up. He walked into the house, noticing his father on the couch as usual, staring blankly ahead, already intoxicated. A beer can dangled in his hands, half empty. Ben paused abruptly upon entering and seeing him, but it seemed nothing could shake this warm, fuzzy feeling.
“How was school?” Roger said blankly, not even looking up. Ben moved to gently extract the beer can from his hand and place it on the table.
“I made a new friend today.” He could barely stifle a smile at the word friend.
“Huh. We’ll see how long that lasts.” Responded Roger, the corners of his mouth twitching upward slightly before he laid his head back and shut his eyes, waving Ben away from him.
Ben froze, feeling his heart drop to his stomach. His mouth went dry and he quietly made his way to the kitchen, not uttering any comment.
The next day, Ben walked to school, excited to see his new friend. He paused, seeing Rowan was with his friends. His first instinct was to walk into school, deciding it wasn’t worth any potential ridicule. Still, Ben felt a tug toward Rowan and wanted to at least say hi. He wandered closer to the group and waved slightly when he caught the dark-haired boy’s eye. Rowan’s eyes met his and a strange emotion flickered across his face that Ben couldn’t quite read. Then, the other boys turned to look, gazes full of scorn as usual. Then, Rowan turned such a gaze toward him.
“Who are you waving at?” He snapped, eliciting a chorus of jeers and yells from the others. Ben flinched back, eyes wide with confusion and betrayal. He didn’t understand, what was happening. Ben suffered through the rest of the class with Rowan sitting right in view, doodling broken hearts on his school papers. It couldn’t have been real, could it? It must have just been a trick, then. But who would trick him like that? And why? Ben just didn’t know what to think.
After school, Ben sat down under a tree near the school to try and catch up on the coursework he had missed while daydreaming, but he just couldn’t think about anything else. Ben tossed his book aside and brought his knees up to his chest. He knew boys didn’t cry and oh, he tried so hard not to, but he couldn’t help it. The one time he thinks he made a friend, it all disintegrates. His father was right. Of course, it didn’t last.
“Hi. I—are you crying?”
Ben quickly wiped the tears from his eyes and looked up to see Rowan. Ben bit his lip to keep it from trembling, just barely able to maintain eye contact. He opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn’t get any words out, so he looked away, figuring it was quite obvious.
“Oh, that.” Rowan moved to sit next to him. Ben rested his head on his knees and looked away silently.
“Sorry, I was just—you know—I mean you’re nice and all but if Dallas and everyone else saw me hanging out with you—” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away.
“I… I don’t understand…” Ben’s voice was quiet and shaky, but he felt like he was talking into a vacuum. There was a silence. “Why… I thought we were friends?”
“We are—if you still wanna be, I mean—we just can’t, uh, hang out in front of them you know? No hard feelings—and I mean, I didn’t mean to make you cry…”
Ben looked up, trying to take this all in. They could only be friends sometimes? Rowan moved closer to him, and Ben shifted a little, letting his legs back down in front of him, smiling a little.
“S-Sure, I can do that.”
Over the next few weeks they became, well, friends. Or sometimes-friends as Ben usually called it. He wasn’t getting beat up anymore—at least, when Rowan was there—but the other boys did still yell at him. During the day he had to act like they didn’t know each other, sitting in class and studying without looking or talking to Rowan. They would only talk whenever Rowan decided it was okay. Sometimes, Ben would get a note in one of his books asking him to go behind someone’s house or to the tree near school late in the evening, and when Ben would go there, Rowan would show up shortly after. They never went to the same place twice, or at least twice in a row, and he could never stay long. |
40bf513f330b4e22befb0d55a73cb6a7 | ['54e38ebba8774fdfa5b6ab57c7c876c7'] | “I miss this one place, they totally had the best coffee ever. It was like…I don’t know, I think it had a plant in the name, but it was cool. Oh, it was near the coast, though, so I don’t know if it’s around anymore. I should check later if I can remember the name. Their coffee was great, though. I used to take people on dates there all the time and seduce them with my intricate knowledge of the menu.”
“ ‘People?’ “ Hermann questioned, taking advantage of what was no doubt intended to be a short pause.
“Yeah?” said Newton. “People. Like…oh, wait, yeah, dudes and stuff, too. That’s not a problem right because you’d kind of be a shitty person if—“
“Oh, no, no,” Hermann said, frowning. “Certainly not. Not a problem at all. I mean…me, as well.”
Newton stared at him for a moment, and Hermann felt himself go red.
“What,” he said, attempting to cover his embarrassment, “Is that a _problem_?”
“No, dude! Of course not. It’s just weird. Like, you’ve totally dated people and probably had sex and stuff, that’s totally weird to think about. I always thought you could only get it up for like numbers and—“
“That is quite enough, thank you, Newton,” Hermann spoke over him, face at that point a rather brilliant shade. “I _am_ a human being, you know, not a robot.”
“Well, yeah, but, I mean, some humans don’t really do that stuff either. I just always kind of assumed you weren’t interested.”
“I am _plenty_ interested,” Hermann said. Then, realizing the possible implications of his statement, did his best imitation of calmly taking a sip of coffee, waiting to see if Newton was any good with ‘implications.’
“Okay, man, okay,” Newton said, hands up in defeat. “I won’t pry, I got it. Though if you have any hilarious ex stories you’re okay with me laughing at then I totally have some too, just sayin’.”
“I doubt I have any stories to rival yours, I really do,” Hermann grumbled. In fact, he didn’t have many stories he was even willing to tell. He really had no luck with people. Or, more accurately, no skill.
“Yeah, okay, whatever. So are you, like, currently attached right now?”
“No.”
“Okay, I was about to say, like, dude, you gotta give me some relationship tips ‘cause if you can get through shit like this you can get through anything, but yeah I guess not, hey, can I ask you something really stupid?”
“You’ve never hesitated before.”
“No, but like really man, don’t laugh at me for this okay, I’m just genuinely curious.”
“…very well,” agreed Hermann, eyebrow raised.
“Are you, like, is this all, you’ve never really, like, said, so, I mean, are you kind of, hitting on me right now?”
Hermann found, upsettingly, that he had trouble answering that. Not for a lack of an answer, of course, but for sudden lack of words.
“Oh, god, I fucked up, didn’t I,” Newton almost immediately said, “I’m sorry man, I can just never really tell unless people are being really obvious about it so I just wanted to get it out of the way and fuck, this is awkward now—“
“No—“ was the first word out of Hermann’s mouth. Then, “Newt. Er, yes. I was. I am.”
Newton stared at him for a moment.
“Oh,” he said.
“Yes,” said Hermann.
“That’s…I mean, that’s totally not weird, like really, I was actually this huge fan of your work before I met you, I mean I totally still am just I was before too, so if you weren’t so scary I would have totally asked you out on a date earlier even if just to pick your brain, but then you turned out to be scary and kind of awkward so I didn’t know if I wanted to put you in that position, you know. And it was great enough just getting to yell at you, so yeah. Wait. No, I was totally going somewhere with this. Uh, you’re still scary and awkward but also totally cute and still way smart obviously so I’m up for this. Maybe. Or, I mean, you’d have to tell me what this is before I say if I am up for it.”
Hermann took a moment to parse through that mass of information before saying, at length, “I’m not really sure what ‘this’ is.”
“Well, you totally asked me on a coffee date and we’re now on it so I guess we’re dating now if that’s cool with you?”
“Yes,” said Hermann. “That’s…’cool.’ “
“But we’re still going to yell at each other and be annoying.”
“Obviously.”
“And I’m totally going to come up with dumb pet names and call you them in front of everyone and leave cute cards everywhere.”
“I can’t say I wasn’t expecting that.”
“…you’re totally cool with all of this?”
“I’ve had time to think this over, and I’ve decided it would be bearable.”
“Dude,” went Newt. “That’s like, the least romantic way I’ve ever been asked out ever.”
“Were you expecting flowers?”
“Yeah, okay, you have a point.”
Newt grinned for a moment, and Hermann attempted to control his rising blush. Then, suddenly, Newt’s expression fell.
“Oh, uh, I guess I might as well bring this up now. Uh. You know how I said some people, like…don’t do this sort of stuff, I guess?”
Hermann frowned, completely lost. It seemed to him that Newt was fine with “this sort of thing,” from what he’d observed so far. Of course, Hermann was more than used to being confused by Newt’s speech patterns at that point.
“Yes?” he prompted, hoping the next statement would be a little more clarifying.
“Yeah. Well, uh, I’ve totally tried sex a few times, or kind of a lot ‘cause I thought something was wrong with me or something but that’s uh, not really my thing? I don’t really…I don’t know. So if you were…yeah…” | 29c0dc2832ae49bc95e60f5539e676a0 | ['54e38ebba8774fdfa5b6ab57c7c876c7'] | “It’s you again,” Tony said. He didn’t even recognize his own voice.
“It is me again,” the person echoed. “I’m…sorry for your loss.”
“Don’t be,” Tony said, looking around for another bottle. All of the ones around him were empty. “It’s not going to change anything. Who are you, anyways?”
“I’m your guardian angel.”
Tony raised an eyebrow at him, and then started laughing. He wasn’t sure why. It just happened.
“Angel, huh? No shit.”
He sat up, stood up, and when he wobbled slightly, the angel caught him. Tony was a few inches shorter than the guy. This pissed him off. Granted, he was going to get pissed off at something, so it might as well have been that.
“You saved me. When I stole the car that one time. Didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did.”
“So where the _fuck_ were you,” Tony said, jabbing a finger into the angel’s chest, “During this whole thing, huh? I got the only angel doing double-time? You just get to pick and choose who you save, huh? Where the _hell_ were _you_!” he yelled, by this point pounding his fist against the angel, voice cracking. He’d started crying again.
The angel put his arms around Tony, loosely, only pulling him close once Tony grabbed a hold of the angel’s shirt and sobbed into it.
They stood there for Tony didn’t know how long, his legs starting to shake by the time his breathing came steady.
“…this is embarrassing,” he mumbled after a while. The angel’s grip loosened, but Tony chose to slide his hands down to his waist rather than stepping away. The angel’s arms stayed on his back.
“Do you think so?” asked his visitor. Tony looked away, bringing one of his hands up to wipe at his face.
“Well, yeah. I don’t usually break down crying in the arms of a random stranger, so…”
“I wouldn’t say I’m a stranger.”
“I would.”
Tony stepped away, and the angel let him go. He grabbed a wad of tissues and mopped his face up, feeling it go red as he did so. This was so not the right time for this.
“So, what’s your name, angel?” he asked, without turning around.
“Steven.”
He did turn around at this, giving an incredulous look. It was hard when his eyes were still so puffy.
“Steven?” he echoed. “That’s the least angelic name I’ve ever heard. Who else is up there? Jerry?”
“There’s James, and Samuel—“
“See, those at least sound a little bit more regal,” Tony said, going over to look at his bottles again. Ah, there was one that he hadn’t gotten to yet. He picked it up and opened it. “Well, _Stevie_ ,” he said, taking a swig. “I’m obviously not in any immediate danger, so you can just leave me to this, big guy.”
“You _are_ in danger,” insisted the angel. Tony frowned, holding the bottle at his side. “But my help won’t be any use unless you want it.”
“Yeah?” went Tony. “In danger of what?”
Steve gave a pointed look at the bottles on the ground. “Alcohol poisoning,” he clarified. “And…a drug overdose.”
Tony swallowed thickly. Oh, so that’s how this was going to be. “So, what,” he said. “Just put me to bed and call it a day, then, I’ll be fine.”
“Or will you just do this again tomorrow?”
“I might,” Tony admitted, easily. He brought the bottle up to take another drink, but a hand grabbed his wrist. He blinked. He was pretty sure that guy wasn’t so close half a second ago.
“Tony,” said the angel, face set. “Do you want to die?”
Tony stared back at him. His eyes were blue. Typical.
“A little bit, yeah,” he answered.
Steve sighed. He let go.
“The company will survive without me,” Tony continued, feeling the need to explain himself. “My dad left behind plenty of plans for whatever, and it’s not like I could run this place worth shit anyways. My cousin could take it over, or…I don’t know, someone with actual business experience. Why should I stick around, huh? What good will I possibly be?”
“This isn’t about your company, Tony,” Steve said, voice soft. “This is about you. You don’t have to step up to all of this, if you don’t want to. You can run away to a million different places that aren’t your grave. Do you really want to die?”
Tony stared at him.
“…yeah,” he answered again. “But…me getting what I want…hasn’t historically resulted in the best things. So maybe we should…”
He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. He did not want to think about this right now.
“I’ll think about it in the morning,” he decided. Steve smiled, letting go of him, and Tony looked away. “And just so you know, I’m not doing this because of your stupid pouty angel eyes,” he declared. Moments afterwards, he realized he probably shouldn’t have said that, but there was nothing to do about it now.
“I’ll be taking that, then,” Steve said, nodding at the bottle. Tony begrudgingly handed it over, only for Steve to hold out his hand again.
Tony looked at his hand, then back at his face, and huffed.
He went over to his nightstand and pulled out a bottle of pills, which he handed to the angel as well.
“Thank you,” Steve said.
“Yeah, whatever.”
“I’d like you to drink some water and go to bed now, if you don’t mind.”
“I’ll think about it,” Tony grumbled.
“Thank you. And, one more thing.”
Steve placed a hand on his back, and Tony vomited.
When he looked up, the angel was gone.
“…thanks,” Tony said, evidently to himself, spitting on the floor. “Asshole.”
* * * |
8865a28c1de84679aacfc078eb982f59 | ['54f286e48c014312b01e199be56efb6c'] | Nearly fifteen minutes passed before the door flew open again. Daryl stormed in in a panic, meeting and locking his eyes on hers. He was sweating and it dripped from his face. He grabbed a rag from his back pocket and wiped his face and neck. His eyes were wild with what she could only guess was fear. He paced back and forth in front of her, his chest heaving from being out of breath. He swung his arms, and ran his hands through his hair.
“Are you okay?” She tilted her head to the side and begged him to calm down with her eyes. She patted the cushion next to her to begging him to sit. To talk.
“I was huntin’,” He said as he plopped onto the couch. And that only confused her more. He laid his head back and closed his eyes while he calmed down and caught his breath.
“What, was a bear chasing you?” She giggled and put her hand on his shoulder. He lifted his head up then and stared at her hand. And she watched his eyes soften. He even smirked a little.
“Rick came and found me. Said you were awake,” He replied, staring deep into her eyes.
She felt her chest become heavy then. A ball in the pit of her stomach began to churn and she didn’t know if was going to cry, laugh, or vomit. The realization of what his eyes were saying to her made her heart race.
He had run as fast as his legs would carry him. His thighs still burned and ached from doing so. But he had to get to her, had to see for himself that she was awake. He wondered if she had any idea how long she’d been sleeping.
When he pulled the door open and seen her bright blue eyes he felt as if he would collapse right there.
“You’ve been asleep for three days.” He whispered, still staring into her eyes.
“I can tell. I’m stiff as a board.” She answered lightly. She smiled at him in a way that made his heart rate quicken. He didn’t stop her when she lifted her fingers to his face.
She gently pushed away the damp hair that was clinging to his forehead, and pushed away what was stuck to his cheek. She ran her thumb down his jawline to his chin and pulled his head towards hers. His breath hitched and stuck in his throat when he felt her lips brush his. She kissed him softly, slowly. A complete opposite to their first kiss. She felt him melt against her mouth, and she smiled while continuing to kiss him. She coaxed his tongue into her mouth and deepened the kiss. His hands finally unfroze from his sides and he gripped at her waist. The fear and anger he had been holding for the past three days had evaporated in no more than a few seconds.
She planted small kisses on his lips over and over, not wanting to stop. She let her lips linger close to his for the longest time before finally pulling away. He immediately missed the feeling.
“Thank you,” She said, and he had no idea how to respond. Instead he got up and held out a hand to help her stand.
“You need water. And fresh air.”
Everyone smiled at her, asked her how she felt, but they all had fear in their eyes like they didn’t trust she was really alive. Like they had all expected her to die. She ignored it for the most part; she had Daryl to concentrate on anyway. He wouldn’t leave her side.
They found themselves sitting in the middle of a highway, on plastic lawn chairs someone had retrieved, soaking up the sun. He was leaned over, resting his arms on his legs, while she stared at him. She didn’t even care if he noticed. She paid attention to the marks on his skin. The parts that were visible. There were stitches above his right eye, he had a few scratch marks on his shoulder and a large purple and black bruise underneath those scratches. She instantly imagined how much worse he could have looked if she hadn’t found him when she did.
“It’s not nice to stare,” He teased as he looked up at her, squinting in the brightness and handed her a bottle of water.
She took a long drink, and then another. She burped loudly and started to laugh.
“Sorry.”
He let out a small laugh and stood up.
He grabbed her hand, helping her up from the chair. She wobbled a bit on her weak legs, but followed him back towards the camp.
By the time the sun light began to fade she felt exhausted. She was nodding off next to the fire, but Daryl kept nudging her to stay awake.
“Eat something, and then you can go to sleep.”
She picked at her food, taking the smallest bites she could. Her stomach was queasy and the food was making it worse. Her bones hurt, her leg hurt, she swore even her hair hurt. She just wanted to grab Daryl by the hand, and lead him to the RV. She wanted to wake up with his arm draped over her again. She wanted to hear him breathing next to her ear.
She stood up and left the group behind. She prayed Daryl would follow. But he didn’t. He was busy stuffing his face.
She had inadvertently claimed the RV as her own, so when she got inside she stripped down to her panties. The air was cool, and it felt good on her back. The wound hurt a lot and the air on it seemed to numb it a bit. She nearly face planted onto the couch. Her head hit the cushion and she knew it’d only be seconds before she was asleep. | b3b093045c574040afa989457d1ce8d4 | ['54f286e48c014312b01e199be56efb6c'] | "Morning John." She couldn't contain the bitterness to her voice. It wasn't his fault, but she couldn't exactly say she was happy to see him.
"Rick said maybe we should do rounds this morning, he's taking care of the meeting. Said he wants to get me trained."
"I bet he did..." Beth mumbled and took her place next to the unfamiliar man.
To say she felt awkward would be an understatement. She didn't know how to train this man, what things to explain to him.
Which was a lie, really, she knew exactly what she should be saying to him. What things Rick would want her to make sure he understood. She just couldn't give a rat’s ass right then. So instead she let him do the rounds and check in on certain people he thought needed to be checked on.
Maybe she would ask Rick to demote her…
The day was uneventful. She didn't see Rick or Daryl at all that morning. Part of it was their avoidance, the other hers. She didn't want to face either of them right now. And she wasn't sure what to say even if she did.
But John liked to talk. He filled her ears with stories from before, when he was a college kid trying to determine his major. He told her about his wife, who died just before the turn, how he was happy she never got to see this mess. How he'd wanted to have kids and three dogs and somewhere along the line she stopped listening. Her mind filled with dark blue eyes, and soft smiles.
He must have noticed because they fell into an uncomfortable silence shortly after their third stop.
It gave her a chance to dwell on those eyes. The ones that kept invading her thoughts.
And then she stopped dead in her tracks, the realization from those eyes causing her body frozen in place. Which, of course caused John to panic.
"What's wrong? Beth?" He twisted and twirled searching for a disturbance. If she wasn't so distracted by her thoughts she would have laughed at him.
"Rick, something's wrong. Code blue?" John hollered into his radio.
Code Blue was a medical emergency.
"Damn it, John." Beth sighed. "Rick, we're fine. Cancel code blue." She bit into her radio and turned it off.
"Go back to the station." She ordered, "Tell Rick I need a minute. When I get back we can start trainin'." She turned to walk away before he could argue.
She didn't stop at the garage like she normally did after her morning rounds, just glanced inside the open door and caught a glimpse of Daryl's legs from underneath a van. She watched him for a while, his feet moving and twisting as he worked, from the cover of a small tree. But soon he was moving from under the van and caught her eye just as she was about to turn and walk away.
He sat, with a wrench in his greasy hand, a nervous smile on his face and a question in his eyes, waiting for her to approach.
And she wondered if the fluttering in her stomach was real.
And without another thought, she marched towards him. He stood up quickly to greet her but before he could even say hello she pushed her lips to his.
It was a test. A stupid test. A plea to prove he didn't want to push her away, that he didn't want her to be with Rick, a kiss to tell her her feelings for Rick weren't real.
She expected him to push her away fast. To say "What the hell is wrong with you, girl?" in embarrassment. And maybe that would have been her answer, the thing she needed to figure this mess out.
But he didn't.
Instead his greasy fingers threaded into her hair instantly and pulled her as close as possible. His tongue dove into her mouth, and he grunted as he shoved her against the van.
But just as fast as he responded to her kiss, he pulled away. Leaving her panting and confused more than ever.
"I missed you." He whispered. And she felt tears springing into her eyes once again.
"I was only gone for one night, Daryl." She smirked and tried to peel herself away.
"That's too long." His voice was rough, but his eyes were so soft and so nervous it broke her heart.
It shattered it to be honest. Because his eyes weren't the ones she'd been thinking about all morning. |
95fd18e74e5245f8a083f12907b5f398 | ['54f68e3780de43c28fdc2ccc9c316ce6'] | _that is not dead which can eternal lie_
_and with strange aeons_
_even death may die_
* * *
something was creeping
and creeping
and waiting to be
_seen_ and
felt and
h e a r d
but some day
the piecing together
of
d i s s o c i a t e d
ǝƃpǝlʍouʞ
will open up
such
t̴̢e̢̡rr̢͞ify͞i̶ng̢͜
vistas of
~~reality~~
* * *
his heart beat so loudly
he feared it could be heard
across the universe, and into the next
* * *
Leia awoke as if she had been struck, cold sweat coating every inch of her skin, plastering her nightgown to her weary form. For a few seconds, she wasn't sure what had roused her so violently from her slumber, until in her mind a distant vision of her son flashed jaggedly. Her hand flew to cover her mouth in a wordless, voiceless scream, silent tears streaking her face.
_Bring our son home_ , she had told Han that fateful day, and now, neither Han nor Ben would ever return to this familiar world, and the weight of this knowledge sunk her tired heart into a cold, nocturne sea of grief and acceptance.
Wherever her son had gone, whatever untrespassable barrier he had permeated, Leia knew in that instant whoever her son had been before did not exist anymore; and this, to her, was more agonizing than any true, natural death he could've faced in a universe where she could at least bury his corpse.
Leia prayed, to who or what she didn't know and didn't care, that her son's journey would not be purposeless, would not be in vain--that regardless of whatever endless abyss he had fallen into, he could reveal to his eyes even a shred of Light.
A flash of fiery hair shocked her inner eye, and she understood. No matter how deep into the void the man she knew as her child had gone, there would always be one, shimmering star of light to guide him. It was a minuscule comfort, but one that Leia clutched to her heart with a death grip and a sobbed, "Thank you," to no one but that gleaming pointed ginger star in Ben's--Kylo's?--mind's eye.
Exhausted, afraid, Leia fell back into a dreamless rest, the connection she shared with _him_ through the Force dissipating as quietly as one dies in their sleep. Her last thoughts that night were of a new hope she decided to place in the piercing edges of a star with a man's (a general's) soul that orbited with a stubborn power within the blank galaxies of her son's heart.
* * *
"Anakin. There's nothing more we can do. In the end, everyone must choose by themselves the path they will take. You, of all people, should understand this."
Anakin wanted to shrug Obi-Wan away, he would've cried if he hadn't long lost the ability to do so.
Instead, he replied as evenly as he could with his trembling voice, "There is one flickering candle of light still present within him. The Starkiller."
"We cannot always anticipate the Force, or the methods which with it operates. If he ignites within Ben even a fraction of light, we should be thankful that his soul is illuminated as such."
"His path saddens me," Anakin finally admitted.
"I know," Obi-Wan said quietly. "I know."
* * *
Ruby prisms scorched Hux's retinas, blinding him momentarily as the shuttle entered the region of eldritch red light. There came the terrible sound of rendering metal, and Hux was consumed by sheer panic, positive that the shuttle was being torn apart and would soon expel its contents into the salivating mouth of freezing abyssal space.
But when Hux opened his eyes and stumbled about frantically, inspecting the shuttle for damage, he found that it was still in one piece. The engines and generators were still unresponsive, but there was no danger of immediately being killed via explosive decompression.
In his urgency, he hadn't noticed the figure slumped over in the co-pilot's seat; or, perhaps he did, but had naturally assumed it was Ren. Pushing the hair out of their face, it was apparent that this was not Ren. There was no garish scar running the length of their face, and the person, upon feeling Hux's fingers, awoke to reveal eyes that weren't pools of still dark water. No, these eyes still reflected the light of the red haze like eyes were supposed to do. This was not Kylo Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren, even though otherwise he looked exactly like the Kylo that Hux had come to know.
"Ben Solo?" he whispered with more courage than he felt.
The young man quickly withdrew from Hux's touch. His head swiveled around, taking in his surroundings, and asked with a drop of hysteria in his voice, "What is this place?"
"I was hoping you could tell me," Hux frowned, moving slowly to sit in the pilot's seat. "You are indeed Ben Solo, correct?"
Ben nodded, eyeing Hux suspiciously. "And you're... you're that guy from the propaganda posters. The First Order. You're..."
"General Hux, yes." His waved his hand dismissively. "You really don't know where we are?"
Ben shook his head, amber eyes wide with confusion. "I... was at Uncle Luke's temple. The voice called to me again, I thought... it wasn't you, was it? It must've been Snoke."
"It wasn't me," Hux confirmed. A cold stone of dread plopped into his stomach. That horrible sound of something being wrenched apart rang in his ears. He glanced into the belly of the ship, but only saw menacing shadows that didn't dissipate in the presence of the ruby energy they'd been swallowed into.
"Where's Kylo?" he asked. Ben blanched.
"Th-that's what Snoke calls me," Ben whimpered.
"No, you're not... no, you're _Ben_. Kylo Ren, he was... he was here before the noise." | 2ebb37227b21451f977c6e571f1a2890 | ['54f68e3780de43c28fdc2ccc9c316ce6'] | It all happened in a blur; Ben dove into the escape hatch, immediately beginning preparations for the escape pod to deploy, holding Millicent's terrified body taut against him. As he did this, Hux spun on his heel so rapidly he went slightly dizzy, but instantly began dancing his fingers over the control panel. The metal doors began hissing shut, leaving Hux to stare in terror at the faceless thing careening towards them, blaster trained at its head. He let out a series of shots, successful in repelling it somewhat, before the grotesque humanoid launched itself at Hux, gaping maxillofacial orifice flowing with drool, and as Hux flew backwards onto his back, arms raised defensively, the doors slammed shut in the beast's face.
"Hux!" Ben called, relief potent in his voice.
Hux rushed forward, hands cusping each side of Ben's face, not understanding the wistfulness rising in him from focusing on the sensitivity in his eyes. The beast clawed frantically at the doors with its crescent nails, slashing through the layers of metal.
For a moment, they stared at each other wordlessly. Before he could even think about what he was doing, Hux pulled Ben's lips to his, savoring the soft, surprised moan that came from Ben's throat.
"Go," Hux commanded coarsely, a mournful tinge in his jade eyes.
Ben nodded once, clambering into the escape pod with Hux's beloved pet.
"Come with me," Ben said in a way indicating that they both knew what the answer would be.
"I can't," Hux smiled sadly. "Ben?"
Before Ben could close the escape pod with clangs of finality, still holding the shaking tabby cat against him, Hux said so softly he feared he might actually shed a tear, "May the Force be with you."
Tears brimmed over the young man's expressive eyes, ghosting over the beauty marks that Hux had memorized from a different, yet the same, face. Ben nodded again, before shutting the escape pod's doors. His wide, unyielding eyes never left Hux's face through the pod's transparasteel as it was lowered into the airlock chamber below. Moments later, there was the familiar sound of jet engines whirring to life, and then Hux found himself alone except for the monster that had almost shredded through the last layer of durasteel.
"Kylo!" Hux shrieked, hoping that somehow his voice would be carried to the Knight of Ren, wherever he was in this strange, alternate, shifting reality.
When the doors of the escape hatch had been shorn away, Hux aimed his blaster at its featureless head again, realizing with an uncanny serenity that he had been backed up against the walls, and had an almost non-existent chance of weaving around the monster and back into the breathing lungs of the corridor. He shot at it multiple times, but this particular beast was much larger than the others, and at this point only seemed enraged by Hux's blaster assault.
Hux's heart hammered painfully in his chest. This wasn't how he has expected to die, but with increasing resignation anticipated that he would, right here, in some unheeded section of space warped by the presence of an impossible, preturnatural planet. He vaguely wondered if these decrepit faceless things were once humans who had, somehow, been called into this realm that was so inhospitable, so unforgiving, to the living. His eyes clamped shut tightly, ready to meet his end, choosing to spend the last few moments of life in dreamy focus on Ben's warm lips.
A shriek reverberated off of the walls, down into the corridors, and Hux opened his eyes to see rows of sharpened tendrils puncturing in a vertical line down the ghoul's spine. It fell forward with a sticky thud, saliva coating Hux's boots as it crumpled at his feet.
Kylo rushed forward, spindles of shadows raveling and unthreading in endless agitation. With unimpeded relief, Kylo threw his human arms around Hux, a set of smooth, non-weaponized tentacles embracing him as well.
"I know what we can do to stop the Hellstar," Kylo said, eyes gazing intensely, as if they were ever devoid of their intensity, into Hux's eyes.
* * *
They snaked back through the corridors, somehow bringing them to the hatch before the cockpit much too quickly. By now, the shuttle was being dragged into the Hellstar's atmosphere, miasmas of violet and crimson matter obscuring the view of the planet's surface.
"So what's the plan, Ren?" Hux asked, grasping the severity of their situation. He hoped against hope that they had helped Ben and Millicent escape quickly enough. Kylo took both of Hux's hands into his own.
"I need you to be a conduit," Kylo said intently, searching Hux's face imploringly.
"H-how?" Hux gawked, unsure what that even meant within the context of this situation, let alone what purpose it would serve to deter this hulking, evil star luring them in towards its ravenous center.
"You're the Starkiller, Hux," Kylo said as if it was obvious. "You birthed the technology necessary to obliterate an entire planetary system."
"Yeah, regular planets! Not this hellacious monstrosity!" Hux was aghast. "At any rate, what good will my memory of the blueprints do you? It's not like we have Starkiller Base strapped to the shuttle!"
"Let me worry about that!"
"Care to favor me with an explanation at least?!"
"No! I mean, not now!"
Tremors began to rattle the shuttle as their descent into the Hellstar's atmosphere began. Hux feared the transparasteel would shatter inversely into the cockpit, shredding them to a million ribbons each. Kylo's eyes shone desperately. "Do you trust me to do this?"
"...Yes."
The shuttle bared down on the Hellstar. With another wrenching screech, a great chasm began to open up on the planet's surface, ready to devour, devour, devour.
* * * |
d0f81ad07e7c40f18eda377047a6fb7a | ['551cc2dab4964993a3bf3c92fea312d4'] |
1. The Hurt and Anger
**Author's Note:**
> Hello!! I have been an avid reader of this fandom. This is my first fic. My muse has surprised me with a not-so-happy-ending fic. All mistakes are of course mine. Thanks everyone.
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Jack does not follow Phryne to England. And now, it's Phryne's turn to not oblige him.
"Miss Fisher!"
"Hello Jack!"
"I did not know you were back!"
She was crouching down besides the dead body of a dock worker. She looked back with a smile.
"Well....I am."
"I hope you had a good time in England."
"Oh. You thought so? Yes. Of course. I ensure that I have a good time always."
She stood up as the body was carried away by police personnel. She nodded at the inspector and walked back to her car.
There was no flirting. There were no hidden smiles, no subtle touches. Jack could not believe that this was the woman he had kissed four months back on the airfield. There was so much passion then. He winced as he remembered that kiss.
When she had asked him to follow her to England, he was elated. He had vowed to follow her to the end of the world. But then reason intervened. He could not do that! He was a rational man. It was ridiculous to just drop everything and run behind her. He was safe in his station, in his daily routine, in his two-roomed house, in his weekly Sunday-afternoon lunches at his parents' place. That was who he was. Detective Inspector Jack Robinson. He would be damned if he left all of that for an airily thrown challenge at the last minute! He had informed her so in his letter to her. She had not replied. He had written again to her wondering if she had received his earlier letter. She had replied then. She understood, she had said. That was a month back. He then got busy in a case and had forgotten to write the letters to her that he had composed incessantly in his heart.
Jack chided himself back to reality. His constable was asking him something.
==
Jack was invited to a party at Phryne's place the day after. The parlour was laid out with expensive liquor, delicious food and lovely music. She was on her feet throughout the evening. She had danced with every man in the room except him. Her raucous melodious laughter filled his senses. Before he could stop himself, he found himself walking to her and inviting her to dance with him.
He had practised ballroom dancing dedicatedly during the past few months and was quite proficient now. She raised her brows to silently compliment him on his dancing.
"So, this is what kept you occupied," she said.
He smiled. "Well yes. That and the station of course. Phryne...," he suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to explain to her why he had not taken up her offer. He gently pulled her out into the garden.
"Phryne, you know how busy I am. There was too much case-load on my shoulders. How could I leave everything and just go? I had explained it all to you and you had said that you understood my situation. Yet, now I see that you had not and that you are angry with me," he shook his head in desparation.
"I am not angry, Jack! I am disappointed. But never mind. I think it is better that we remain colleagues. It is best to forget everything...that had happened that morning. Yes, I think it would be far better that way. Now if you will excuse me," she said as she walked back into the house.
Jack felt as if someone had clutched his heart and had given it a dead-squeeze. He followed her inside. He tried talking to her all evening but she decidedly avoided him. She laughed, joked and smiled with everyone as if nothing was amiss. Later, when everyone had left, he approached her again.
"I am extremely tired, Jack," she yawned.
"Me too, Miss Fisher but I really need to talk to you tonight."
She sat down on one of the chairs and invited him to occupy another.
"I can see that my not following you had hurt you. I had not realised that you would be so hurt, Phryne. Believe me. I am sorry. Really. I mean it." he held her hands in his as he entreated her.
"Please Phryne, give us another chance," he said.
"I would have forgiven you Jack but there is nothing to forgive. I was impulsive and foolish. I had asked too much of you. But Jack, I really think that we are better off this way. No expectations, no promises, just friendship. And may be, this is the right thing for you and me. I shall see you tomorrow at the station," she said brightly.
He left soon after.
2. The Deadlock
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Jack shares his feelings with Phryne but will she be convinced?
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> At the outright, let me say that I was not very happy with the sad ending of the fic.
>
> AStitchinTime, bonnieblue39 and Bijoux53 encouraged me to change the ending so that Jack and Phryne were reunited. Your comments really helped me to take the plunge into doing so.
>
> Thank you, Olly Jay, for your beautiful comment. I thank all the readers here for your love and support.
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There was a distinct knock on the door. Soon, Jack entered into Phryne's parlour.
"Jack?"
"We solved a case, Phryne. Have to have a drink together," his lips quirked into a tiny smile. | 3534cc470c85403880df81c552d381cb | ['551cc2dab4964993a3bf3c92fea312d4'] | "I don't know what you mean by that, Mac. Why would Jack be a 'stupid man'?"
"He is being stupid. Over you. I mean, you have cut him off from your life. He should accept it and move on. Right?" Mac asked innocently, after sipping into yet another glass of whiskey.
Phryne was wistful.
"I had trusted him with my heart. And he...he just let me down, Mac. I felt all alone. Just how I had felt when Janey had disappeared. When his first letter came in, I fell into a very dark place. I could not eat or sleep for days. Then, when I was somewhat better, the second letter came in. I somehow answered that letter and cut him off from my life. He does not deserve my love, Mac. He does not," Phryne was crying now.
Mac hugged her and patted her back.
"Darling, he loves you too. You stupid fools! I feel like locking you two in a room and throwing the key away! Phryne, listen to me. There is a reason why there is a phrase called 'love of your life'. I had it with Daisy. And you, Phryne, you did not have it with Rene. But you may have it with another person. Knock Knock, Wake up, Phryne! Your road to happiness and love leads to him. Trust me. He had just made an unwise decision. Forgive him. Tell him what you are going through. Don't block him out," whispered Mac.
The tears subsided gradually.
Soon enough, Phryne had successfully interrogated Mac and got to know all about her discussions with Jack. She was finally convinced that she needed to talk openly with Jack. And if that had to happen, it had to happen right away.
Mac was happy to see that she had been able to drill some good sense into Phryne's thick skull. Really Phryne could be so bull-headed at times. Mac declared that she would be spending the night in Phryne's guest room. As soon as the room was ready, she promptly fell asleep.
4. The Resolution / Journeys end in Lovers meeting
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Jack and Phryne pour their hearts out to each other and Mr. Butler is left with three cups of tea.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Finished the series. Yeah! I cannot believe that this had started out as a one chapter tragedy. Thanks again for your lovely encouraging comments.
"Phryne? Mr. Butler?" Jack could have been knocked over with a feather.
"May we come in, Jack?" asked Phryne sweetly. Jack had melted at the sound of her voice and simply looked on at her.
Was he dreaming? Jack pinched himself on the hand to make sure.
"You are not dreaming," remarked Phryne as she quietly walked inside.
"Good evening, Inspector," wished Mr Butler as he stood on the threshold.
"Shall I wait for you, Miss? Or, should I directly take the car back home?"
"Just give me ten minutes, Mr. Butler. Please make yourself comfortable in Jack's parlour."
Jack invited him in. Soon, Mr Butler was in Jack's kitchen, preparing tea for the three of them.
"Umm, Jack, can we go somewhere? I......I need to talk to you," she said after a pause, "alone."
"Yes, of course," said Jack as he led Phryne to his study. It was a tiny room really, little bigger than a storage loft, and Jack was pretty sure that the previous owner had used it that way. To Jack, however, his study was a sacred space. It housed a pair of leather armchairs, a study table, and his books. He indicated one of the armchairs to Phryne. As she took her seat, he sat back on his slightly worn-out chair and looked expectantly at her.
Phryne began without any preamble. In truth, she was highly agitated and had been trying quite hard to maintain her calm.
"Mac had been to my place. I have been told that I am being bull-headed. Am I really, Jack?" she asked.
"I would not know, Miss Fisher," Jack was not taking any chances this time, "what exactly did she tell you?"
"She told me that I...that I am a stupid person to let you go. To not respond to your advances when clearly I was, that I cared for you!"
"And do you, Phryne, do you care for me? For I certainly care for you a lot, in fact, I think I love you," mumbled Jack.
"But you had abandoned me, Jack! You had rejected me when I needed you the most!" Phryne's voice was choked.
"Phryne," Jack held Phryne's hand, "Darling, I had not abandoned you. Please believe me. I just, I could not bring myself to go to Europe again. You know, for a long time after the war, every time I closed my eyes, horrible scenes would flash before my eyes, scenes that were so grotesque that I had to open my eyes immediately in order to escape from them. I had gradually learnt that my routine, my work, my duties, responsibilities, friends and family - they help me stay centred here. And I just could not let go off all these and go to England. Besides, after the financial crash, I could not bring myself to resign from my job. You had reassured me that you would be back in Melbourne. It had made so much sense to stay here and wait for you. I have misinterpreted your letters, Phryne. I never realized that you wanted me there so badly!"
He looked extremely distressed.
Tears were streaming down Phryne's face as she looked at this now-dishevelled man. Who knew there was so much pain, so much fear in him? But, a part of her remembered, she was the hurt person here.
She said, "You could have said that. You could have mentioned once that the reason you were not able to join me was a medical one, an emotional one. No. Instead, you had enumerated the reasons why it made no practical sense for you to follow me. How it was expensive, impulsive and how it would endanger your job! Really, Jack!!"
She continued in a hopeless monologue, "I had a very tough time in England. You know that, of course. I had talked about it in the letters that I had sent to you. Between my rogue father, my hysteric mother and the financial mess that the estate was in, I was living through hell. The only thing that kept me going was the hope that you would come to me, Jack. I dreamt daily of finding you beside me; not so that you could sweep me out of my troubles. I wanted you by my side because I loved you and knew that in my toughest times, you would stand by me and support me. But you refused. I felt like I was all alone. Just like I had felt when Janey had disappeared. I vowed then, Jack, I would not let you in my heart again. You tell me, was I wrong to do so?"
"Phryne, darling, I am so sorry that I had let you down," Jack said, "I had made a mistake. The horrors of the war and my many fears had not let me see the promises of love, happiness and adventure that you had proposed. Could I choose again? And this time, I would choose you, Phryne," he said softly.
Phryne walked over to his chair and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. Jack folded her in and placed a long and intense kiss on her lips. His probing tongue entered into her mouth. Not to be outdone, her tongue entered into his mouth soon after.
By the time Mr Butler arranged tea and biscuits on the dining table, the door to Jack's bedroom closed with a bang. |
91d7fbfd1e1740b8832469e868e1d6eb | ['551deb0f2e1a4c5bb10486a1892d6fb1'] | Scott was surprised but not as much as Brett who looked about ready to pass out. Liam and Derek got closer and looked at Isaac who started the timer. Derek made the move first immediately pressing his lips against Liams own. Derek lightly bit Liam's bottom lip which caused him to gasp slightly and allowed Derek to slip his tongue into the younger boy's mouth. Everyone else looked on in shock while everyone but Scott that was. Finally the timer rang and both boys pulled away. Liam's face flushed red and Derek's faintly colored red. After both boys went back to their original places the game continued.
"Theo truth or dare?" Theo looked at Derek and said "Truth. Do your worst Hale." Derek laughed and said "Is it true that you once had sex in the middle of the forest with Brett once?" Immediately Brett choked on his drink in horror and coughed violently. "What the fuck!" Brett all but howled at Derek who ignored him and smirked at Theo.
\---------------------------------------------------------------
"Yeah it's true. Not only once but several times in a row bitch." Theo replied and yanked Brett who was about to get up and go back down. Derek laughed out right and took a drink from his now filled up cup. Theo looked around and spotted Malia who was eating some pretzels. "Malia truth or dare?" Malia eyed him warily and said dare.
Theo thought for a couple seconds then said "I dare you to finish the next three rounds without a shirt." Malia laughed and said "That's it? Deal." Then proceeded to take her shirt off and continue eating food. She turned to Allison and said "Hey Argent truth or Dare?"
Allison replied with dare. This caused everyone to stare at the two girls. "I dare you to sing Guns & Ships from the musical Hamilton at the top of your lungs." Allison smirked and proceeded to belt out the lyrics loudly and as off key as possible. Erica Reyes laughed and held onto Derek's arm as Lydia Martin covered her ears while glaring at Allison.
Allison smiled and turned to Scott "truth or dare Scott?" The boy hummed and leaned back before saying "Dare." Allison beamed and said "I dare you to list three people you'd have sex with if you weren't with Liam." That gathered almost everyone's attention and they all looked at Scott in anticipation.
\---------------------------------------------------------------
Scott took a sip of his cup and said "Brett. Isaac. And Erica." As soon as he was done the circle exploded with chatter. Once it quieted down Erica Reyes said "Hey Scott if you ever wanna go at it just say when. I could show you so much" she winked towards the end and Scott laughed loudly.
"Simon truth or dare?" Scott said. Simon looked up and said "uh I don't know. Dare?" Scott smiled crookedly and said "I dare you to do a body shot off of the person on your right side." Jace was looking at Simon and said "I'm down for it if you are" Simon nodded and Erica handed them a shot glass and some salt plus a lime.
Jace laid on the pool table while Simon poured some salt near his upper chest. Lydia Branwell put the lime between Jace's lips and said in a teasing voice "try not to have too much fun." Jace smiled and laid still. Simon downed the shot poured then began to lick the salt he poured. Soon enough he tried to grab the lime but couldn't till he was practically straddling Jace. Once he got it he pulled his head up and looked at everyone else.
Isabelle started cheering and almost everyone else did as well. Simon get off of Jace who smirked and pulled his shirt back on. Once everything settled down and everyone was back in their original order (and Malia had put her shirt back on as well) the game started again. Simon looked at Isabelle and said "truth or dare Izzy?" She seemed to think about it for a couple seconds before replying "Dare."
\---------------------------------------------------------------
"I dare you to recount the best experience you've ever had in bed." Simon said. Alec groaned while Jace poured himself a full cup of beer. Isabelle seemed to think about it then said "Me and Meliorn once had a threesome with your sister in the backroom of the café." Simon tilted his head then screeched out _"YOU HAD SEX WITH MY SISTER?!"_ Clary covered her mouth and tried to not laugh. Rebecca blushed and quickly took a drink from her cup.
_"Oh my god oh my god. What the FUCK I DIDN'T NEED TO KNOW THIS WHY DID I ASK THAT OH MY FUCKING GOD."_ Simon said as he looked haunted over what was just said. Isabelle smiled cheekily and said "My turn! Alec! truth or dare?" Alec rolled his eyes and said "Dare." Isabelle smirked and pulled up Alec then looked around and pointed at Raphael. "I dare you to go into the closet with that guy for 10 minutes. You two can do whatever you want and we won't tease you for it."
_"Izzy I just got out of the closet and now you want me to go back in?"_ Alec said but helped up Raphael and let himself be lead to the closet. Magnus looked at Raphael in betrayal before downing his cup. Raphael shrugged and went in first then Alec entered and shut the door.
\---------------------------------------------------------------
_**In the closet** _
"So..I'm guessing this isn't exactly how you planned for your night to go." There was silence before Raphael laughed quietly and leaned against the wall. "No not really. I was kinda hoping to go unnoticed in this game." Alec nodded and stood near the door frame. Alec had been counting the seconds and only about 3 minutes had passed when the other boy said "I'm Raphael Santiago. You are?" | 8aefc2e822bd472e9efde7d28ac9a8de | ['551deb0f2e1a4c5bb10486a1892d6fb1'] | 2. Who knows if i will live to see tomorrow?
Kevin Tran stepped out of the hotel he was staying in for the past 3 weeks. He waved politely at the small family who lived across the street. As Kevin grabbed his duffle bag and slung it across his right shoulder. Then he grabbed his knapsack and began to walk towards the train station which was about four or five streets down. He was finally going home.
Kevin passed by a small cottage to pick up his familiar Bleu. The medium sized blackcat jumped down from the small balcony onto Kevin's shoulder. "Hey bleu you have a good time seeing your sister?" Bleu purred and nuzzled his cheek. Kevin laughed and pet his head "I'll take that as a yes"
Kevin soon arrived at the station and bought his ticket. He found his way towards the compartment he was assigned and set his bags down. As he began to sit down he heard a commotion. He looked at the hallway that separated his compartment and the other one. He made out four figures one obviously terrified and struggling to escape while two others threatened one who looked angry and close to snapping. Kevin quickly got up and approached the group.
"Excuse me. But this child obviously doesn't want you touching him. Please let him go" One of the men who was lean but strong tightened his grip on the young boys arm. "Oh yeah? Why should we listen to you?" Kevin sighed and took out a small pouch and grabbed about a handful of the dust he saved and said "Because I really don't wanna use this but if you don't I might have to." The two men laughed and both looked at him with amusement written in their eyes.
"What are you gonna do about it little warlock? Blow magical dust in our eyes?" taunted the one on the left side closer to the woman they were threatening earlier. Kevin shrugged and smiled lightly before throwing the dust into the first mans eyes. The man stumbled back in surprise letting go of the childs arm. The woman near the other man kicked him in the shins and delivered a blow to his stomach. The man yelled in surprise and let go of the childs other arm and Kevin grabbed him just as the guards from outside came inside.
The guards lead the two cursing men out towards a police cart. The woman rushed over and held the young boy in her arms as Kevin spoke to the train owner. As Kevin was making his way back towards his compartment the woman called out for him to wait up. Kevin stopped near his door and turned just in time to see the two making their way up to him. Bleu looked at them suspiciously apparently he woke up from his 10th nap while Kevin was off almost dying.
The woman held the boy by his hand and said "Thank you so much! I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't helped us." Up close Kevin could see that their skin had a slight purple tint most common in species of Fae and Elves. "It's no big deal I would of done it for anyone. Besides they tried to take your..?" The woman smiled and looked down at the boy "My little brother. Lito say thank you to the nice man." The boy looked up and mumbled something in another language.
A soft "Thank you" was heard as the boy quickly hid behind his sister. Kevin smiled and handed the girl who gratefully accepted the pouch of gold coins and several bills. After 4 minutes the driver announced the train would leave and the siblings quickly left thanking Kevin once again. Bleu pawed at Kevin's leg until he relented and picked up the cat and set him on his lap. Closing his eyes Kevin decided to take a small nap till he had to get off the train and walk the rest of the way to Caelum.
Gadreel had just finished fighting a group of shadow creatures that threatened a small country village. As he prepared to make his way towards the embassy to pick up another report his phone rang. Sighing he grabbed it from his coat pocket not bothering to check who it was and answered it.
**_ Gadreel: Hello? _ **
**_ Samandriel: Hi big brother. My favorite big brother in the whole entire world! _ **
**_ Gadreel: You alright Samandriel? (Mockingly) do you have a fever little brother? _ **
**_ Samandriel: Whatever anyways I was just calling you to warn you mom and dad are gonna call you in about 10 minutes so prepare yourself for mom's waterworks and dads awkward silence. Also real quick do you know if blood is easy to wash out of clothes? _ **
**_ Gadreel: oh my goddess, let me just throw my phone away. Also yeah just find water and a magical spell. _ **
**_ Samandriel: Oh shut up. Are you ready for the reunion? _ **
**_ Gadreel: Yeah ready to see everyone and listen to awkward silence. _ **
**_ Samandriel: (loud noises in the back) well so am I...I gotta go talk to when I can bye Gadreel! _ **
**_ Gadreel: Okay bye Samandriel. _ **
After hanging up on his little brother Gadreel picked up his messenger bag and his gym bag filling them up with his clothes and other personal things he kept. Fifteen minutes later Gadreel found himself out in the marketplace buying some food for his trip back home. His conversation with his parents went smoothly until he announced that no he had broken up with his last boyfriend Abel due to them having different plans about their future. There was no harm or malice towards either of them. They just both wanted different things for their future. |
2ecd49f95c524432a41c03fb5e974c35 | ['5527e055ed60495cacc8965e4eea542f'] | Lucifer cracked up, and was still laughing when he set Dan’s handcuffs on the piano and went to get a bar towel.
++++
Dan put his pants back on for the ride up the elevator, although Lucifer had told him he didn’t need to. Mostly he didn’t want to lose track of them. Lucifer, of course, remained nearly nude, wearing his unbuttoned shirt and nothing else. The way the shirt concealed and revealed him as he moved around was in some ways more provocative than if he’d actually been fully naked. Not that Dan was going to give him the satisfaction of saying so.
“So you got me here,” he said, a little awkwardly, looking around. “What are you going to do with me?”
“You’ve got a _fascinating_ knot of tangled sweaty desires I’d love to help you unravel. But first, I’d like to restate the offer of a drink.” He was already pouring a double for himself.
“No, thanks,” Dan said, and sighed as reality intruded on his rather pleasant afterglow. Refusing the drink reminded him why he wasn’t drinking, which reminded him of… he squeezed his eyes closed. It didn’t help.
Lucifer knocked back his drink with his usual efficiency. Dan wondered why he stocked the expensive stuff if he never seemed to savor it. “You know what you need?” he asked Dan, abruptly.
“If you say ‘a hot beef injection’ I’m throwing the rest of that in your face.”
Lucifer laughed. “We already did that. And no, that’s not what I was thinking of. Ever done any power exchange?” Dan looked at him blankly. “BDSM? Whips-and-chains-type things, in bed?”
Dan shrugged. “Yeah, a little bit. Early on Chloe thought it might be fun. I tied her up and spanked her and we tried to do a thing with hot wax, but she kicked me by accident and I almost set the curtains on fire.”
Lucifer chuckled. “You tied _her_ up? Mmm. I see why it didn’t work out.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Lucifer didn’t answer the question, just pointedly looked him up and down. “You work out a lot, right?”
Dan wasn’t used to another man looking at him with that much overt desire, and looked quickly away before he could blush, although he was loath to let Lucifer change the subject. “Yeah, I guess,” he said.
“Do you like the feeling you get after a hard workout? Or are you more about the ‘during’, about pushing your limits, feeling the strain and knowing you’ll be sore later?”
“Really, what are you…?”
Lucifer took another drink and gestured with his glass. “Answer the question, I’m going somewhere with this.”
“Both, I guess? I don’t see how this relates to us having sex.”
“Wait here,” Lucifer said, and returned after a brief interlude with some highly specialized tools, which he laid out on the bar.
Dan watched him do it, bemused. Some of it he recognized: a riding crop, a wooden paddle, a pair of floggers, one rubber and one--he picked it up--suede. But he couldn’t see the utility of the metal thing that looked like an old-timey spur on a spoon handle. Or the long, broad leather strap that was split down the middle.
“Any of these interest you? To be used on you, obviously. You could hit me with a riding crop if you like but you probably won’t find it very personally fulfilling and I’ll get bored.”
Dan picked up the spoon-handled spur, and flicked the wheel with his finger. The teeth were sharp. “Ow,” he said.
Lucifer gave him a rather put-upon look. “Here,” he said. “Give me your hand,” and he took the instrument from Dan. “It’s a Wartenberg wheel. Medical instrument, originally; they used them to test nerve response, although these days you shouldn’t assume anyone who owns one is a doctor.” He extended Dan’s arm, and held the wheel like a pen as he gently rolled it from his wrist to the inside of his elbow. Dan shivered at the prickling sensation and the way it intensified over the sensitive skin there. He opened his eyes, having failed to notice he’d closed them, and found Lucifer watching him intently. “So you’re not opposed to the idea,” Lucifer said.
“Not… exactly,” Dan said, shifting on the barstool as his trousers tightened. “But letting you hit me seems…”
“I assure you, I’m very good at it,” Lucifer said. “God-given talent, one might say. And if I do it right, you’ll get to achieve the state of mind that you told me was your greatest desire, downstairs.”
It took Dan a minute, but… well, when he put it _that_ way. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Why not.”
“Pick a couple of those, if you want. To get started,” Lucifer suggested.
Dan picked up the split leather strap. It was heavier than it looked like it should be, and the edges were unfinished, almost sharp. “What’s this?”
“A tawse,” Lucifer said. “Interesting choice. Most impact devices will give you thud or sting, but that one gives you both. Try it on your forearm if you want to see what I mean.” Dan gave himself a light smack, feeling the slap of the leather and the way the split in the middle pinched his skin. He… kind of liked it.
He held onto the tawse and picked up the suede flogger. “These,” he said, handing them over.
Lucifer smiled in warm approval at his choices, looking him over. “Now the difficult part,” he said. “Trying to decide how to restrain you. Face up, face down; rope, leather, handcuffs…” Dan caught his breath, feeling a flash of panic tighten his throat. “Daniel?” Lucifer asked.
“It’s nothing,” Dan said, annoyed at himself. “It’s… fine.” | 281a644cbd004e0fbd4c75da9d4aaa44 | ['5527e055ed60495cacc8965e4eea542f'] | By which time they were at the crime scene, with Ella waving them over to take a look at a collection of evidence that pointed to a truly unorthodox murder weapon, and there was no time for personal conversations for a while.
+++
The ensuing investigation led them to a state park, back to the precinct to interrogate a potential suspect, and then, on that suspect’s testimony, out to a televised poker tournament, where Lucifer ended up recovering the murder weapon while briefly subbing in for the dealer. The murderer confessed on camera, to everyone’s surprise including his own, but by then Chloe had more than enough evidence to place him at the scene of the murder with the deadly antique ivory-handled umbrella in his hands, and all in all, it was a Deckerstar triumph.
+++
Lucifer was looking very pleased with himself as they carpooled back to the precinct, Chloe driving this time. 5 mph under the speed limit, as always, hands perfectly placed at the 10 o’clock and 2 o’clock positions on the steering wheel. Chloe drove quietly for a few minutes, then resumed their earlier conversation as though they hadn’t been interrupted by a busy day of unorthodox crime-solving. “Wait, I know. Ask Dan.”
Lucifer immediately picked up on the context. “Ask _Detective Douche_ if he wants to sleep with me?” he asked, incredulously. He stared at Chloe for a moment, his expression turning thoughtful. “I… hmm. Well, I suppose I could ask. Yes, I certainly could ask him,” he repeated. “But what if he says he does? Do you _really_ want me to sleep with your ex?”
“He won’t,” said Chloe with confidence. “I know Dan. I lived with him for ten years. He’s as straight as they get, and even if he was secretly into men he wouldn’t be into _you_ , and he’s still in mourning for Charlotte. He’s the perfect test case, someone with no reason whatsoever to want to sleep with you. If you proposition him, and he turns you down, I’ll know you haven’t been taking advantage of people, and we can move on from there.”
A produce truck passed them on the right, honking angrily. Lucifer eyed her askance. “And by ‘move on’, you mean…?”
Chloe took one hand off the wheel briefly to cover her smile. “You know what I mean.”
“Lovely,” Lucifer said, settling back into the seat. “Very well, you have a deal. I’ll invite Dan to have sex with me, and you’ll finally agree to joining me in my hot tub.”
“It sounds ridiculous when you put it like that.”
Lucifer wisely forbore to comment further on the plan.
+++
Dan Espinoza was spacing out at his desk again, staring into a pile of incomplete post-interview summaries. He was trapped somewhere in the gap between organizing his thoughts and actually doing the work, which was happening more and more often these days. It had been five weeks, six days, and seven hours since Charlotte’s funeral--not that he was counting--and work, at least, was more or less back to normal. People adapted. Positions were filled. The Sinnerman investigation, under the oversight of multiple precincts, Internal Affairs and the FBI, wrapped up with a lot of “inconclusive” material evidence but also a record number of arrests, and eventually Ella stopped muttering about crazed mutant swans.
After his brief suspension was up, Dan had managed three days of personal leave before the silence in his apartment started to drive him crazy (and he ran out of Body Bags movies to re-watch on Netflix). He came back to work, he made do. He kept himself busy. Interviews, interrogations, working out, spending time with his daughter: those things could feel almost normal. But being at home alone, or dealing with the paperwork that made up 80% of a homicide detective’s workload… without sufficient distraction, his mind always returned to the feeling of Charlotte’s body, lax in his arms, and the awful, crushing guilt that he could have prevented it, if only he’d known.
Dan realized he should schedule another appointment with the department psychologist--he’d seen other guys, normal guys, spin out in similar circumstances and eat a gun barrel or worse--but he kept putting it off. Making excuses. Getting distract-...
“Detective Douche!” a familiar voice rang out across the bullpen. Heads turned as Lucifer crossed the crowded space, as they always did, though the man who called himself the Devil was only mildly overdressed today, rather than extravagantly overdressed: a dark grey suit jacket and trousers, a pale blue shirt. No vest. He must have been out with Chloe.
“Sorry,” Lucifer said as he reached Dan’s desk, “not ‘Detective Douche’; I just got excited. My apologies.” To Dan’s astonishment, he pulled up a chair and sat opposite him, looking seriously into his eyes from across the interview sheets. “Daniel. I’m here to ask you a very important question and I need to know you’ll give it the consideration it deserves.”
“I… uh, okay. Shoot,” Dan said, thoroughly discomfited.
Lucifer, who often talked _at_ or _past_ Dan, rather than _to_ him, was being unusually focused and attentive, and Dan couldn’t help but take notice, although it filled him with trepidation. _Oh God, here it comes, he finally wants to talk about Charlotte. If he says it’s not my fault, I really will punch him. If he tries to apologize, I’m gonna shoot him._ Dan braced himself. But “Would you go out for drinks with me?” was what Lucifer asked him instead.
Oh. Well, of course it was some bullshit; it was Lucifer. “That’s your important question? Dude, I’ve got work to do,” Dan said, pointedly turning his attention back to his worksheets. |
80e79df17981447985eee703c13e54fc | ['5552c7a2996a4cdbb4739e5f528d8439'] | "Many years ago, before David and Mary Margaret started dating, I remember sitting in the University cafe with Mary Margaret. I asked her why she could possibly want to date someone that accused her of theft. She smiled at me and told me that everyone makes mistakes, and instead of dwelling on those mistakes she needed to move forward and follow her heart. And following her heart led to ten blissful years of dating, an engagement, and a perfect wedding." She smiles tearfully, catching David's near-permanent ecstatic smile. Mary Margaret's watching her with a proud smile, nodding encouragingly. "So, I think it's finally time for me to follow your advice and do the same. I think it might just be time for me to follow my heart too.
"Killian, I need you to hear this." All eyes turn to him, and he pretends not to see. He chooses instead to focus on Emma's face and finds that her eyes are already on him. "I've made many mistakes, mostly in vein of protecting myself and they've hurt you badly. I'm sorry and I hope that you can give me a second chance. I am horrible at this, even though I have the best mentors in the world, but I wanna try. I want this more than anything with you." She closes her eyes, like she can't believe what she's doing. "I'm in love with you."
The silence after she speaks is deafening. Emma, beyond private and definitely the type not to believe in fairytale endings and true love, just spilled her guts to everyone. He doesn't know how she does not bolt out of the ballroom.
But then again, he does know. It's the same reason, deep in his gut that flutters every time that she looks at him, that persuaded him to get her a cat and continue baking her all kinds of breakfast treats when their friendship was already solidified. He's never really thought of it before, but he thinks he might be in love with her too. There is a reason that he dreams about waking up next to her or that he wants to do everything from abroad trips to mundane household chores with her.
He loves her.
Killian Jones loves Emma Swan.
He realizes after a second that he hasn't spoken yet and Emma's face has turned pink from embarrassment. Before he can think, Killian leaps to his feet - nearly knocking his chair over in the process - and pushes passed David and Mary Margaret to wrap Emma in his arms.
"I love you, Emma. I want to be with you every second of the day," he whispers in her ear, words tumbling out of his mouth. "My love, I need you. I want you. I love you."
Their kiss is electric. His heart lurches into his throat. His breath whooshes out of him. Her lips send a white, scorching heat through his body. His hearing shorts out, and he clings to her, wishing it would never end.
It does, however, when she disentangles herself from him. There's faint whooping and clapping, but it stops as she slides her hand to interlock with his, and takes the microphone back from David who is smiling from ear to ear.
"The two of you have helped me grow and become who I am today. I know that the two of you are meant to be together and I think I finally believe what you've been trying to tell me. Thank you. I love you." Emma still clings to him, but unwraps her hand to grab a champagne flute. Everyone scrambles to get there's. "To the happy couple, Congratulations!"
The second Emma hands the microphone back to the DJ's assistant, Killian grabs her hand and tugs her away from the table. "We'll be right back."
"Take your time." Mary Margaret looks like she could cry she's so happy and David is equally as over the moon. It feels like a dream. Emma leads the way around the tables, ignoring the catcalls and looks from their other friends (clearly everyone knows what's going to happen). They let the door shut behind them, muffling most of the Ratpack's music starting up in the ballroom.
Killian pulls her through the semi-crowded lobby toward the courtyard doors. It's not raining, thankfully, and Killian doesn't waste anytime: he pushes her through the doors and immediately pins her to the stone wall.
Emma laughs. "I get the feeling you're pretty okay with this, hmm?"
"Very." He pushes her hair off of her neck and nuzzles deep into the crevice where her neck meets her shoulder and collarbone. He sucks very lightly so as to not leave too much of a mark and absolutely gets a thrill when she shivers. He stops himself before he gets too excited. "I cannot wait to throw you on my bed and tear you apart."
She moans, and he can't take it. He wraps his arms around her body, letting one drift toward her spectacular ass, and leans in for the kiss. Killian doesn't think he can ever get over how much he feels when they kiss. It's pure magic: he can feel her hunger when she kisses him back, tongue rough and powerful, but sweet enough that he wants more.
It's energizing and thrilling, but Killian knows completely that they need to stop or he's going to be rutting against her in public. For a very brief second, when Emma gasps under her breath, he thinks fuck it, he'll strip right here if he can get her to do that again, but Emma pulls away too, lips swollen and face flushed. She doesn't speak, but rest a hand on his chest until she can get her breath back.
Killian waits, thankful that the little courtyard is mostly empty and pretty chilly; he needs it to cool down before he does something to embarrass them and Mary Margaret and David. | 7a4cb5516b7346d58e9bfc22146b00e3 | ['5552c7a2996a4cdbb4739e5f528d8439'] | He's never wanted her so bad. Kissing and dry humping isn't possibly enough to satisfy him. He brushes his hand against the band of her pajama pants and waits until they pull apart for a second to ask, “May I?”
Emma pulls away from him just long enough to scramble to unbutton her pants. Creamy, pale skin appears and within seconds she’s naked, laid out on the bed. She's beautiful, of course - every human body is - but Emma’s lithe figure sends shivers right down his spine. She's muscular and lean with just a little belly left from her pregnancy with Henry.
He loves it, and doesn't resist the urge to touch or kiss every inch of her. Killian can feel the strength beneath her skin, the tight knitted muscle of her arms and thighs. He wonders wildly for a second how much she works out, if he could watch her, and if he could drag her into bed and fuck her senseless afterwards.
He's nearly salivating.
She's shaking beneath his lips, spreading her legs and reaching her own hand between them. He’s entranced by the way she touches herself, follows along until he pushes her hand away and digs in himself.
Emma’s squirming in seconds and he switches his fingers for his tongue. She's slick and wet as he tongues her, swirling and licking everywhere he can reach. Emma whines, eyes fluttering. She whispers instructions as he gets her closer. Emma hasn’t even touched him and he's hard as a rock.
When she comes, twitching and panting, he nearly does too. He's thankful that he's able to hold off, but it's a very close call, when one of his dreams is laying in front of him limp and satisfied.
Emma returns the favor, wrapping a firm hand around his dick when he slides beside her on his queen bed. The sensation rocks him, makes him suck in his breath and try to focus on anything else. She swirls her hand just right, tightening around the base and sliding her hand up to the tip.
She follows his lead, replacing her hand with her mouth. Emma licks, sucks, and swirls her tongue in all the right ways.
It only takes bare minutes before he throws her off of him and jumps off the bed, digging through his duffel. Emma leans up on his pillows, long legs spread while she waits. Triumphantly, he finds a condom and turns back to her. Wrapping his own hand around his slick cock, he rolls it on and jumps back in bed.
The sex itself doesn't last very long. They rock, moan, and thrust together, eyes locked and lips pressed together. They roll around in the bed, switching to their favorite positions, and the intensity is incredible, maybe even beyond what he's ever felt. She's dripping wet, even with the condom, and when she starts moaning, loudly crescendoing as he thrusts, he's done for.
She slides off of him, and he cleans himself up while she redresses. They don't speak and Killian tries not to feel awkward with his small, flaccid dick hanging out.
“Stay the night?” he asks.
She stops mid-tugging up her pants and turns to him, biting her lip to hide a smile. She doesn't answer right away. “Not gonna kick me out?”
“Definitely not.”
He pulls his briefs back on, sliding into one side of the bed. He waits until she kicks off her pants and tosses her clothes onto the small wooden chair by the dresser to turn off the dim light by the bed. She flops into the bed beside him.
Killian turns on his side, facing her. “Alright, Swan?”
“Yeah, I’m alright.” She scoots closer to him, back to his chest. He presses close, intertwining a leg and wrapping an arm around her stomach. He thinks about reaching up to clutch her breast, but he thinks that might be a little too much. Killian pauses, purposely twitching his dick—her butt is pressed against him—and thinks, a hand on her breast is nothing.
He does just that and settles comfortably in his pillows. He and Emma lapse into the silence.
It's almost two-thirty in the morning and he's awake trying to process. Killian's stomach is still full of butterflies, heart giving him palpitations because Emma is laying in bed beside him.
He's had probably hundreds of one night stands, all of which have ended with either him leaving or her kicking him out of bed. Killian's struck with wonder. They can sleep together all night.
Of course they'll need to talk in the morning, but for now everything is wonderful.
Despite her trust issues, Emma has no problem sleeping. Killian had wondered if she would be tentative, or if she'd make excuses and head back to her room, but Emma surprises him. She passes out within a few minutes and later, when Killian is daydreaming about their first vacation together, she snorts in her sleep and rolls out of his arms. She nudges him out of the way with her legs and spreads across the bed.
He's strangely endeared by her, and it takes a minute for him to shake himself out of the urge to push her blonde hair out of her face and maybe stroke the soft skin of her cheek. Killian doesn't want to wake her though - none of them have slept enough lately - and instead follows her lead: flops on his belly, and clears his mind.
For the first time in months, Killian falls asleep easily and worry-free.
*****
_“Oh, Killian, I just can’t imagine our lives any different.”_
_She’s wearing what looks like an old Southern bell dress, tight white corset leading to a billowing cornflower blue and white skirt. She can barely fit in the chair opposite him. Perched on her head, hiding half of her blonde curls and shadowing her face, is a large, wide-rimmed sunhat._ |
231cf07cce7148309a73e09a219ac582 | ['555884d89f0f43838c620bb49c1b2647'] |
Una Furtiva Lagrima
You lie on your side, pretending to watch some pointless cartoon you’ve watched a hundred times before, but truthfully, your eyes are glazed over, unseeing. Your once perfectly manicured hands idly stroke the fur of your beloved gray cat. It’s as if they’re on autopilot. Because your mind is elsewhere. You’re replaying the last night you spent together. Your final night with him.
He had been aloof for weeks, months if you were being honest with yourself. You had chalked it up to exhaustion. You were all exhausted. The company treated you more like work horses than human beings, but that was nothing new. If only you had known how bad it had been for him. If only he had said something. If only he had trusted you.
Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary that evening. You arrived home and he was already there, making Beijing fried rice. You grabbed a bottle of soju from the refrigerator and sat down at your computer. A few minutes later, a plate of rice appeared in front of you and you accepted it, barely sparing him a glance. In hindsight, you wish you had thanked him. Why had you always been such an ungrateful and selfish bastard?
After eating and playing your video games for a while longer, you felt his thin but muscular arms wrap around your waist. He began to kiss your cheek, your shoulder, your neck, and then whispered softly in your ear to follow him to your bedroom.
As you reached this point in your memory, you trail your fingers down your bare chest and dip them below the waistband of your underwear. You’re already half erect just from the images that have been flickering through your head. You gently wrapped your fingers around yourself, lightly massaging the skin, stroking up and down, and squeezing out the tiny bit of fluid that has begun to leak from the slit.
You remember how he pushed you gently on to the bed before crawling atop you and kissing you fervently, almost desperately. He made quick work of your pants while you stripped both yourself and him of your t-shirts. He moved to kiss you once again with that desperation which, at the time, you hadn’t understood. As your tongues tangled together in the heat of your mouth, you recall wondering what on earth had sparked this urgency in your normally relaxed lover. He kissed down your chest and teased the hardened nub of your left nipple with his tongue. Then he proceeded to gently suck before taking it in between his teeth and lightly biting down, creating a sublime mixture of pleasure and pain that chased away all coherent thought from your mind.
He then wandered down your body and settled in between your legs. He swiftly rid you of your boxers and your fully erect penis sprang out and stood, awaiting his attention. He bent his head down and harshly licked up the side before engulfing your cock in his mouth, pulling a hiss of pleasure from between your teeth. He rolled his tongue around the tip, being extra attentive to the underside of the head, knowing that was where you were most sensitive. You grasped his hair and moaned his name as he bobbed his head up and down, causing exquisite tension to build in your body.
As you recall the feeling of his beautiful mouth and wicked tongue on you, you push your underwear down, freeing your erection as you quicken the movement of your hand. Your back arches off of the mattress as you climb nearer towards the peak of pleasure.
You recollect how you cried out in agony as his mouth left you just before reaching your climax and then again in ecstasy as his tongue flicked at your puckered hole. You reached into the night table and passed him the lubricant. He took it and squeezed some onto his fingers and began to push one into your wanting body. He moved it in and out, curling it and stretching you as pleasure once again began to build. He placed a second finger inside of you and continued his ministrations, drawing wanton moans from your full lips. As he lathered his impressive erection in lubricant, you stared at him and bit at your bottom lip in anticipation. You briefly noticed something unreadable in his eyes as he gazed back at you before slowly pushing into your eager body, but then all worries faded and were replaced with the blissful feeling of his hardness inside of you.
You gasped loudly as he sheathed himself fully and hit your prostate. He pulled himself out almost completely and then harshly thrust back in, repeating and hastening this movement and forcing you to reach out and wrap your arms around his neck, needing something to keep you steady. You screamed in pleasure as he pounded into you and his throbbing cock continuously met with the spot that made stars explode behind the lids of your eyes. You felt the familiar pooling in your stomach as he grasped your erection and moved his hands in time with the snapping of his hips. You begged for release: “More. Yes. Right there. Fuck. Harder.” You buried your face into his shoulder and bit down lightly as you came all over his hand and stomach. He let out a pleasured groan at the sensation of your climax and then filled you with his. He collapsed on top of you before rolling over and off of the bed and leaving the room, presumably to wash off the stains of your lovemaking. As you fell asleep in your post-euphoric haze, you were ignorant of the pain you would feel the next morning when you would awake to find that both he and his belongings had disappeared.
Your strokes speed up, bringing you closer to your climax as you remember the feeling of him inside of you, of his seed filling you and suddenly you are there, falling off the cliff of ecstasy as you spill onto your hand and stomach.
You lie there, spent both physically and emotionally from your release. You can’t be bothered to move. The emptiness has returned with a vengeance. You stare up at the cold white ceiling above your bed as your eyes begin to fill and your vision begins to blur. One furtive tear escapes to trace a path down your cheek, landing in your matted, unwashed hair.
**Author's Note:**
> This is my first fic and I would love to hear your thoughts! Thanks for reading! | fcfbd32428fe4dcb847b494182738814 | ['555884d89f0f43838c620bb49c1b2647'] |
Underwear 404
The group filed in sleepily through the front door after returning home very late from their performance. However, some members, or rather, one in particular, were still wide awake and had other things besides sleep on their minds. As soon as they had entered the dorm, a very excited Kim Heechul grabbed Leeteuk’s hand and pulled the older man into his bedroom. He quickly closed the door behind them, flipped the lock, and then pinned the leader up against it, raising a hand and slamming it down next to the confused man’s head. Leeteuk’s eyes widened in shock, unsure of what had caused this outburst. Heechul pressed his body up against Leeteuk’s, close enough to feel every inch of his toned physique. Heechul bent his head next to the other man’s ear and whispered sensuously,
“Don’t think I didn’t see it.” He tilted his head back just enough so that he could meet the leader’s eyes and smirked as Leeteuk replied,
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Heechul leaned in again, the proximity to the leader’s warm, muscular body reawakening the lust he had felt earlier as he had watched Leeteuk performing and caught sight of the, well, situation he’d had in his pants, which had been apparent to both everyone on stage and in the audience due to the pelvic thrusting featured in the dance, as well as Leeteuk’s choice to forego wearing anything under his loose white pants.
“Don’t play dumb, Jungsoo. Were you that excited for me to touch you?” Leeteuk swallowed audibly, the danger in Heechul’s voice and his hot breath on Leeteuk’s ear was stating to make the older man anxious, but also thrilled him. He was no fool. He knew exactly what Heechul was alluding to, and as he felt Heechul’s body against his, he was reminded again of exactly what had been running through his mind earlier that evening that had begun to arouse him. Deciding to be bold and turn the tables on the younger man, Leeteuk leaned in close to Heechul.
“Maybe I was.” He whispered tantalizingly to Heechul and felt him shudder. He smirked inwardly, proud that his plan seemed to be working. “At the beginning of the song, all I could think about was touching you. It drove me so crazy that I couldn’t hide it. And now thousands of people know just how much I want you.” He then took the lobe of Heechul’s ear between his teeth and bit down lightly, causing Heechul to groan loudly and his knees to go weak. He grabbed Leeteuk’s chin with his elegant fingers and crashed their lips together. This elicited a moan from the other man as his lips and tongue clashed with Heechul’s, neither willing to submit to the other.
Heechul wrapped his arms around Leeteuk’s shoulders, pulling him in closer as their kiss grew more heated. They nipped and sucked at each other’s lips, drinking each other in and completely ignoring the need for oxygen. They were only focused on their need for each other. Heechul slipped his fingers into Leeteuk’s hair, lightly rubbing his scalp and tugging at his hair, making him whimper into the younger man’s mouth. Meanwhile, Leeteuk’s own hands snaked underneath Heechul’s t-shirt and let them wander over younger man’s back. His nails left behind red marks as he dug his fingers into the smooth, pale skin. Overwhelmed by the need to be even closer to his lover, Heechul slid his hands down to cup Leeteuk’s ass, jerking the older’s lower body towards him and they began to grind their hips together. Heechul growled low in his throat as their hardening arousals made contact through their sweatpants. He continued to drive his hips against Leeteuk’s, pushing harder, desperate for more friction as their tongues dueled fiercely. Heechul was wild, unhinged, and only aware of the man whose hardened body was pressed flush against his.
“You’re wearing too many damn clothes.” Heechul choked out as he broke the kiss, gasping for air. Leeteuk hummed in agreement as he kissed a line fervently down Heechul’s neck, sampling the saltiness of his unblemished skin.
“So why don’t you do something about it?” The leader murmured in between kisses. Not needing to be told twice, Heechul hurriedly grabbed at the hem of Leeteuk’s shirt and tore it over the man’s head before making short work of his own. He returned his attention to his lover’s neck, biting and sucking the sensitive skin. As he continued to taste Leeteuk’s tanned flesh, the leader plunged his fingers into Heechul’s hair, sighing and whimpering as he used the younger man’s blonde mane to guide his sinful mouth. And as he began to feast on Leeteuk’s delectable collar bone, Heechul slid a hand over the man’s defined chest and his nimble fingers began to toy with one of the leader’s nipples. He pinched and rolled it between his fingers, drawing deep, rumbling groans from Leeteuk. He leaned his head against the wall and struggled to breathe as he was overwhelmed by the sensations Heechul was creating.
Without warning, Heechul dropped to his knees and hooked his fingers under the waistband of Leeteuk’s sweatpants and boxers. He glanced up at Leeteuk with an evil glint in his eye and peaked out his tongue to wet his lower lip. Leeteuk’s breathing sped up in anticipation of Heechul’s next move. With a quick tug, the younger man pulled down Leeteuk’s pants and freed his impressive erection. He took a hold of it in one hand and, without breaking eye contact with Leeteuk, licked slowly and ever-so seductively from the base to the tip. Leeteuk thought it might have been the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He held his breath, not wanting to break the spell Heechul had over him. But when Heechul swirled his tongue around the head of his cock before taking the entire length into his hot mouth, all attempts at retaining control were lost. |
b063510511254332bd0e1fff7ebd80b2 | ['55696a67e0594721a36eec66774ec4d5'] | “Sorry, I-” she sighed and looked away from him before taking a deep breath. When she looked back at him he could see the tears in her eyes and his heart pounded from the sound in her voice, the pain in her eyes as she looked at him, and the smell of her blood that she was now absentmindedly wiping on her jeans.
“I have cancer,” she said.
Cassidy was quiet, his brow furrowing.
“I’ve had it for a few years. Chemo worked for a while, but then it stopped and Jesse and I…we talked about it with my doctor’s, with each other, and decided it was better to stop the chemo. That goin' through that any more, when there was no progress…that it would be better to let the cancer run its course.”
Cassidy was still quiet, but now his face was impassive.
She decided to keep going. “I’ve been tired a lot lately, and last week when Jesse and I were in town gettin’ groceries I had to go sit down. I could barely catch my breath. I thought it was just a one-time thing. I was doin’ okay for a bit, but it’s progressing. I need to be on oxygen twenty-four seven now.” She said all this fidgeting with her hands in her lap, scared of his reaction, and she was right to be scared as she looked at him.
Cassidy could hear her words along with the blood pounding in his ears. He’d hoped, even prayed that he’d misheard her the previous morning, that she’d misspoke in the moment, but deep down he knew the truth. All the nights where her breathing shifted and he wrote it off, the frequent naps, how she ate like a bird.
“Cass?” she asked, concerned that he hadn’t said anything yet. She reached a hand up to touch his shoulder and he jumped up.
Her hand was frozen in the air as he walked across the room, went into the kitchen, and left, slamming the door.
She got up when she heard shouting.
Cassidy almost smacked into Jesse outside. He clenched his teeth as he stared at the man before him holding take-out and liquor bags. “Where’s your fuckin’ God Jesse? Huh? Where’s your precious fuckin’ God now!?”
Jesse sighed, but didn’t say anything.
“Where is he!? ‘CAUSE HE’S NOT FUCKIN’ HERE IS HE!?!? And you better hope I never meet him, or I’ll fuckin’ kill him!” Cassidy said before shoving past Jesse.
Jesse turned around and shouted after his friend, “Where are you goin’ Cassidy? Cassidy!” He watched Cassidy walk down the drive for a bit, turning around when he heard a sniffle. | 49fd9ff807484853957b9543f2fe13ec | ['55696a67e0594721a36eec66774ec4d5'] | After the usual dinner with Jim and Barbara and a hot shower Isabelle lay in bed listening to the same song over and over as she thought of Oswald. It had been a few days since the encounter in the alley and she couldn’t help but wonder when she’d see him again. She kept going from thinking about him to thinking about how ridiculous it was for her to be thinking about and even the fact that she kissed someone she really barely knew. There was something about Oswald Cobblepot that drew her in, like a moth to a flame, or perhaps it was that she knew he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He could go from killing someone to being the most proper and polite gentleman there was. He was a bit like her feelings, one second she couldn’t wait to see him again but then the next her head screamed at her to dispose of such thoughts for good. He was bad which meant he was bad for her. There was a chance she could get hurt, emotionally and physically. She couldn’t help it and being too tired to read she fell asleep thinking about him.
After breakfast the next morning she decided to go to the Gotham library and apply for a library card. She dressed, donning her plain black flats and her black faux leather jacket over her clothes. She didn’t carry her purse in Gotham, instead keeping a small wallet and what little she needed tucked inside her jacket. It was best not to show potential muggers she had anything for them to steal as she walked down the street.
She was unaware that Oswald Cobblepot had spotted her as she walked down the street and was now following her. As she was about to cross the street he appeared by her side.
“Good morning Isabelle,” he said.
She jumped, heart racing. “Oswald,” she hissed. “What the hell?”
He chuckled. “My apologies and that sort of language is unbecoming if I may be so bold.”
Isabelle raised a brow at him as they stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the library. She turned to face him. “What are you doing here?”
He gently took hold of her arm and pulled her to the side. “I saw you and thought I would,” he paused, looking around. “I thought I would, well, you said you wanted to see me again and I thought perhaps I should take you out for dinner?”
“Oswald Cobblepot,” she whispered, “are you asking me out on a date?”
His cheeks were pink and she smiled at the adorable picture before her. He was truly nervous as he pulled at his tie and answered “yes. I am.”
“I’d love to go to dinner with you,” she smiled.
His face brightened immensely. “I’ll be at your door at seven. Please dress formally,” he said before taking her hand at the last minute and placing a kiss on top of it.
This time Isabelle blushed and she nodded.
She watched as he went off down the sidewalk, dragging his foot, until she couldn’t see him anymore. She took a moment to herself in front of the library because her heart was still racing, whether that was from Oswald’s surprise appearance across the street or just Oswald himself she wasn’t sure.
~O.o~
She spent the rest of that day reading from her pile of library books. She’d managed to get the night off from Mooney’s. She figured the only reason Fish was letting her take the night off was because she was Gordon’s niece and Falcone’s interest in her.
“Knock, knock.”
Isabelle looked up from her book to see Barbara standing in the doorway. “Hey.”
“Hey, so shouldn’t you be getting ready for your date with Peter? I can help.”
“Yeah, he’ll be here in about an hour. I don’t have a dress though, I was hoping…”
“I’ve got one. Come on, follow me.”
Isabelle did just that, looking around as they entered Barbara and Gordon’s bedroom. She sat on the chair in front of Barbara’s vanity and watched as Barbara rummaged around in her closet.
“Aha! This should fit.”
Barbara turned around, a dark purple dress in her hands. “Come on, try it on.”
Isabelle took into the bathroom. Barbara was right, it was perfect. The silk was soft against her skin. It had a sweetheart neckline with one inch wide straps on the shoulders. The length was perfect too, not too long but not too short, stopping just below her knees.
She stepped out of the bathroom and couldn’t help but smile at the look on Barbara’s face. “Oh it is perfect. You look beautiful!”
“Thanks.”
“Okay how about shoes?”
“Well I’ll just wear my heels from work,” Isabelle told her.
Barbara nodded. “You know I don’t know why they make you wear heels at a café. Wouldn’t flats be more comfortable at least.”
Isabelle just shrugged her shoulders.
“Okay, let me do your hair. Sit,” Barbara commanded.
Isabelle sat back down on the chair at the vanity.
Barbara went to work, pulling a brush through Isabelle’s hair. “So are you nervous?”
“Yes.”
“Peter Humboldt huh? How did that happen?”
“We just ran into each other today on the street. He remembered seeing me and just asked me out.” Technically it wasn’t a lie. That’s exactly what happened.
“Well Jim told me you didn’t do much dating at college so I’m glad you’re branching out some.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“There,” Barbara said. She’d pulled Isabelle’s long dark hair up into an elegant bun and had left a few strands on either side of Isabelle’s face free. “All done.”
“Thank you Barbara.”
“No problem. How about your make-up?”
“I’ll do it but thanks.”
Ten minutes to seven Isabelle slipped on her heels and sprayed a spritz of her perfume. She did one turn in the mirror as the doorbell rang. |
b26abe1a13e04cf5954322b6768e9f77 | ['5586765b6545430e94b21139b23084cb'] | Aziraphale folded his wings and sheathed the sword. He wondered if Crowley would have been proud of him, or at least surprised. He immediately wished he hadn’t thought that as a needle of despair punctured his courage. He realised he spent a lot of time wondering what Crowley would think of his actions. That would have to stop. His crutch had turned out to be a cross that he’d somehow been convinced to nail himself to, and now he had to bear it.
3. Grey
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Crowley made a deal with the Devil, and now he's in Aziraphale's way.
“Been? Ugh” Crowley dropped onto a familiar greasy, grey concrete floor. He knew by the smell where he was before he even opened his eyes.
“Aziraphale is safe now yes? You won’t touch him? That was the deal.”
“Crawly, Crawly, Crawly. That was quite a performance you gave back there.”
Oh antichrist, Crowley hadn’t expected Satan himself to be here. He knew Crowley hated being called his old name, but if anyone knew how to get your goat, it was the Devil himself.
“We won’t touch him Crawly. That was the deal. Have a look!”
Crowley unfurled to his feet and took in the room. One end was a giant screen that flickered into life as he looked at it. And there he was. His angel. Crumpled in a heap on the floor of his beloved bookshop. Crowley could see the mug with cocoa next to him. He couldn’t hear anything, but he didn’t need to hear it to know the soul searing sound of his angel falling apart. He hoped he hadn’t gone too far. He’d had to be so cruel, but it was for the angel’s own good. He’d nearly cracked at the end and had had to turn away so he wouldn’t have to see his angel’s face when he believed his lies. Aziraphale needed to be back where he belonged, with the other angels. He was sure they’d want him back. And then he could tear them apart from within.
“Yes Crawly. You made a deal with us. But we made a deal with upstairs. We won’t touch him, but neither will they. They’ll quietly cut Aziraphale out of the picture - the whole business glossed over. No explanations needed. So he’ll be left alone for all eternity with his grief, and you get to watch him fall apart piece by agonising piece. See all the glory of your efforts.”
Crowley looked round at the devil, horrified, but the screen came with him. Staying in his view.
“Yes, do you like that? We thought this one up just for you. Didn’t want you to miss a moment of the stupid angel crumbling.” And laughing his terrible cackle, the Devil left. You’d have thought the root of all evil would have mastered a decent evil laugh by now, but there you go thought Crowley as he slumped to his knees in front of this cruel shrine to his poor angel. They really did have a devil put aside for me.
Evil always sows the seeds of its own undoing. By denying Crowley the respite of hearing Aziraphale’s voice, they missed out on what was to unfold. Crowley thought Aziraphale was talking to himself in the sunlight. Nobody realised it was talking back to him
Crowley had watched as he dropped his cocoa, then as he cleaned it up just the way Crowley taught him. Then as the sword arrived. How could he not? The image was there even when he closed his eyes. He saw as Aziraphale slowly took it out of box, staring at it intently. He saw as the sword came to life in the angel’s hands. How the fire glow illuminated Aziraphale’s soft features. Except they weren’t soft any more. Panic began to rise in Crowley’s throat as the flames flickered treacherously close to all that dusty paper. He just couldn’t bear the thought of the bookshop burning again. The memories of losing his angel once were enough. He did not need to go through that again. But then Aziraphale had unfurled his wings. His body stiffened and as the sword blazed Crowley realised he’d never seen Aziraphale truly angry before. Not like this. He looked ready to unleash the wrath of God. As Crowley watched on, Aziraphale held the sword up, concentrated, and... vanished. Turned out the Devil’s clever screen couldn’t quite see everywhere then...
Michael was strolling across heaven, feeling particularly smug. Her plan with downstairs had worked out perfectly. Both the troublesome demon and the renegade angel were neutralised, and all kept quiet as a church mouse. She knew her little foray into the basement branch would turn out useful, but now she’d even managed to get them to keep Aziraphale under surveillance for her! As she passed through a large group of lesser angels, a fluffy, white tuffet of hair caught her eye, but when she turned to look it was gone. She must have imagined it. Ah well, off to write up another beautifully fabricated report for the almighty. Bureaucracy was, she sighed, such a wonderful thing. She wasn’t even sure which side came up with it.
Still, she’d have them check their surveillance downstairs, just to be on the safe side. And it always gave her such a wonderful feeling to have them do her bidding.
Crowley was still staring at an empty bookshop. He’d prepared himself for heartache, but this was inventive for Hell. He had no idea where his angel was, or what had just happened. But if Aziraphale had his sword back then he would probably be ok.
Hastur came in, smirking. He could deal with Hastur.
“Oi Kermit, your fancy screen is frozen. What’s the signal coming in on? The telephone network? Didn’t you lot upgrade that when I told you it was going obsolete? ” | 52844c4d012f461180df1f29d3c5be5d | ['5586765b6545430e94b21139b23084cb'] | “Think about it angel. I’m a demon. The first thing I did when we met was make you doubt yourself. I’ve been tempting you since the garden. It started with The Arrangement - think about all the things I got you to do for me! All those little temptations when really I was the one tempting you. The humans were just something to practice on. I could see you liked them, and I got you to actually try and kill a child. I would have succeeded too, if Madame Tracy hadn’t got in the way. Face it angel, I won, and now there’s no need to pretend any more.”
“If I was just a means to an end then why did you keep rescuing me? Why keep coming back to me?”
“I wasn’t about to waste all those years of work Aziraphale. You are, or were at least, a principality. A prize worth putting some effort into. Nothing more. Did you not notice it was always me suggesting you do the actual deed?”
Aziraphale still hadn’t moved. His whole world was crumbling right in front of him. Crowley could see he was trying to understand and failing. He could see the pain and confusion crossing the angel’s face as he thought back over all their years together in a new way. He could almost hear the shattering of his heart. Crowley needed to get the angel out of his flat as quickly as possible.
“In short, I don’t need you any more. This is goodbye. And I suggest you don’t stay for any more ‘fraternising’ as I’m expecting some demonic company imminently.” The air-quotes weren’t really necessary but Crowley was getting carried away.
“Crowley if this is one of your jokes, it’s not funny.” Aziraphale tried, hopefully.
“It’s not a joke Angel!” Crowley hissed, anger forcing his teeth into points as he flung himself back to his feet. “Let’s face it you said it yourself! We’re not friends and you don’t even like me! Now, they’re coming back and you need to leave. Your books will be missing you. Goodbye Aziraphale. I did tell you I wasn’t niccce.” He hissed. It was childish and he knew it, but there was no stopping now.
“Crowley, please, what about ‘our side’?” Aziraphale was desperate to rekindle that glow of good he knew was in there somewhere. To find something that they could both cling to.
Crowley had turned his back. He spoke softly this time.
“There never was an ‘our side’ Aziraphale. I was never on your side.”
Aziraphale’s face fell as he realised Crowley had, in fact, already delivered his punch line. He mustered whatever dignity he could find, placed the hamper gently on the table, and left, before the demon could hurt him any more.
After he had gone Crowley loped around his flat. He hurled the usual abuse at his indoor garden but it didn’t help. He tried the radio, but slammed it back into silence when Freddie Mercury summed it up with ‘The years of care and loyalty, were nothing but a sham it seems’. It was a long time before he could look inside the hamper. The daft old fool had even managed to find tartan napkins. And he always found the most wonderfully tempting, crunchy, red apples. Quite... well... miraculous. As he raised one to his teeth he saw the fly land on it and look up at him.
“Beelzebub!” He sang breezily “how’ve you be-“
2. Red
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Aziraphale gets a gift from Heaven, and a mission.
Aziraphale tried not to think as he hurried back to his shop. Crowley obviously wasn’t an angel, but Aziraphale had hoped that there was enough good left in him to saunter vaguely upwards, with a Dev- Angelically charming guiding light of course. Over some heavenly lunch dates. And maybe even dinners?
But now Aziraphale felt betrayed. Crowley had used him and he had been cast aside. And out as well. He’d briefly hoped back in the flat that it had been some sort of joke, or test. Or at least that there would be a simple explanation for it. Maybe Crowley had spent too much time alone, looking over his shoulder. He thought about all the times he’d said no, when he should have just said yes. If he’d given in sooner, then maybe they wouldn’t be in such a mess. Or if he’d been stronger, and not given in then he would still have his friend, but then that wouldn’t have been real would it? Out of habit Aziraphale made himself some cocoa. He found the routine calming, and it gave his hands something to do while his brain floundered. He thought about how he’d taken Crowley’s timely rescues as a sign of affection. For God’s sake the demon had walked on consecrated ground for him! Turns out it was for Crowley’s sake. He had even seemed genuinely distraught when the angel was discorporated. But now Aziraphale saw it for what it truly was, and he felt so ashamed. The demon had only been thinking about himself. Aziraphale was just a stepping stone for what Crowley truly wanted. What he always wanted. To be noticed and appreciated. To feel important. Well now he had it. And Aziraphale would never see Crowley again. |
c0ef1f3b0e9a4608bb552567a77fe2b7 | ['55b7c2b8ead8409c82369225278316a8'] | 'Fuck!' Tsukki grunted as he gently rubs the sides of his head. He woke up with a terrible headache. 'Why now? Of all time.' he stood up from sitting on the corner of his bed, preparing to meet Kuroo. He already received a message from Kuroo that he was already on his way. It would be rude of him to cancel their meeting last minute. And he knows how Kuroo was looking forward seeing him today.
\---
'Tsukkiiiiiii!!' Kuroo ran towards the blonde hair lad as he saw him. He was about to hug Tsukki but held back. 'I miss you, Tsukki! I'm so glad that you agreed today.'
'I've already heard that a couple of times from you, Kuroo-san. I just don't have anything to do today that's why I agreed.' Tsukki lied.
'I'm really happy that I've got to see you, Tsukki.' he smilingly says. 'But you look a bit pale. Are you okay?' Kuroo got worried because he knew that something's off about Tsukki.
'It's nothing. My head just hurts a little but I'm fine.' Tsukki brushed it off but he knew that his head was throbbing. He thinks that it would be a waste not to push through on their date.
'Awww, Tsukki. Were you as excited as I was?' the black-haired guy assumed. 'Just tell me if something's wrong, okay?'
'Whatever, let's just get going.'
\----
Despite the pain Tsukki is experiencing, he made sure to enjoy every single minute he has with Kuroo. They went to various places in Miyagi, visited shrines and parks. They also went to the aquarium. There are a lot of things to do but they have little time.
Kuroo brought Tsukki home. He insisted to send him home as he wants to stay longer with Tsukki and wants to check that he arrived safely at his own house. He was surprised that Tsukki let him go inside. Tsukki offered him to rest for a bit before going home. He still has plenty of time before catching the last train going back to Tokyo.
'I'll just prepare some tea.'
'Thanks.' Kuroo can't hide his happiness. 'Hmm. Can you smell that, Tsukki? It smells so sweet.'
'What are you talking about? Maybe you can still smell the strawberry cheesecake that we ate.' Tsukki said as he went to the kitchen. But it isn't that, Kuroo told himself. It's a different smell. Kuroo was trying to look where the smell is coming from when he heard a loud thud. He hurriedly followed Tsukki which he found lying on the floor.
'Tsukki, what happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt somewhere?' Kuroo was so worried seeing Tsukki's condition. Tsukki was sweating a lot and his head spins. Kuroo can still smell the sweet scent but he's trying not to mind it because he needs to focus on what to do with Tsukki.
'Kuroo-san... My head really hurts.' he cries in pain. 'And I feel hot. It's so hot.'
'Are you in heat?' Kuroo asked.
'Am I?' Tsukki gasped.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hope y'all had a good read.
>
> I will release the next chapter in a couple of days. Undecided when hehe.
>
> Also I'm planning on writing some BokuAka oneshots if there are people who would want to read. Hehe.
>
> 'til next chapter <3 <3
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you for reading! Will release next chapter 2 days from now. Hihi | e8eab15ad41341ed9a100f85e0353df3 | ['55b7c2b8ead8409c82369225278316a8'] |
Birthday Treat
**Author's Note:**
> Hi everyone!
>
> Thank you for your time visiting this story and hope that you read it as well hihi.
>
> Sorry for those who are waiting for the 3rd chapter of my Omegaverse fanfic. I promise to post it by next week :).
>
> Btw, this story is set where Tsukki and Kuroo are already living together. Kuroo is already working while Tsukki is on his second year in University.
>
> This is still unedited so there would be a lot of grammatical errors. Will proofread and clean this by tomorrow.
>
> Enjoy reading and please feel free to drop a Kudos if you love the story. I'm open for comments as well :)
Happy Birthday, Kuroo-san.’ he woke me up with a light kiss on my cheek at exactly 12 midnight to greet me on my birthday. On his hand, is our favourite strawberry shortcake. This is the second time that we are celebrating my birthday together and I couldn’t be happier being woken up by his kiss.
‘So… this is the overnight group study, huh, Tsukishima?’ I snickered at him. He just laughs it off and moved closer to me.
‘Do you not like it?’ he had the widest smile on his face, waiting for me to praise him for his surprise. ‘Oh, blow the candle. The wax is getting on the cake.’
‘Of course, I like it, dummy.’ I held him closer after I blew the candles on the cake.
‘Hey, be careful, the cake.’ he giggled.
‘I was just a bit sad…’ I teased him, adding drama about his surprise. ‘I thought Tsukki won’t be here to first greet me on my birthday.’
‘I won’t want to miss this moment, you know’ he was laughing the most beautiful laugh. ‘So, want to eat the cake now or later this morning?’
‘Are you asking that for my sake or for your sake?’ I teased him as he pouted his lips. ‘Kidding. Strawberry shortcakes are the best but there’s something better than that I want.’
‘Oh no, you don’t.’ he let out a small laugh. ‘Keep it for later after your birthday party. Thank god, Akaashi-san and Bokuto-san are coming.’
‘Yeah. Sorry if I won’t be able to go together with you there.’ I lowered my head, ashamed because I can’t fetch him and go to the bar with him together. ‘I really love to..’
Tsukki placed the cake on the lamp table near our bed as he held my hands.
‘It’s okay. I really do understand. You don’t need to worry. Akaashi-san and Bokuto-san would be there with me. Also, it's just a three-minute walk from here.’ He was being especially sweet today. Is it because of my birthday? He drew himself closer and cupped my face. ‘Don’t be down, silly. It’s your birthday.’ He pecked a small kiss on my lips.
I pushed him down on the bed while he was giggling. I removed his shirt to expose his bare white skin. I get one strawberry from the cake and placed it on his mouth. I also scooped a little amount of cream and drew a line from his chest down his stomach. ‘God, you look so sexy. I’m really a lucky bastard.’ I bit half of the strawberry on his mouth while ate the remaining half. ‘Happy birthday to me!’
He wrapped his arms around me as he kisses me so passionately. His tongue was wandering the insides of my mouth. He was already short of breath as I slowly kiss him down his neck, going down his chest. I licked the cream that I put into him then gazed at him while smirking. He’s still catching his breath when he let out his cute and sexy moans as I suck on his right nipple. I played it with my tongue, licking it and sucking. His moans were proof that he’s drowned in deep pleasure.
‘Ku… Kuroo-san.. No… ahh..’
I bit his nipple and I heard the sexiest moan he let out. He’s near to come. I kissed him on the lips again but he pushed me away saying, ‘Let me do you.’
He kissed me so deeply while his hands start to caress my skin down to my belly and he slowly grabbed me on my shorts and played with it using his fingers. He was twirling his fingers when he slowly whispered in my ear, ‘It got too big, huh?’ Fuck! I’m getting more bigger and bigger. The way he said it is too sexy.
Tsukki suddenly kissed the trail where his hand caressed. He kisses every part of my body almost wanting to leave his marks on me. He then slowly removed my boxers using his mouth, exposing mine then. He paused for a moment. Either he is regretting suggesting doing it or he was just surprised about my thing.
‘Fuck!’ I muttered as I closed my eyes in pleasure. He was just twirling his tongue on my tip but it felt really good. He then sucked the head of my cock as his right hand moved up and down on my shaft. When did he become this good?
I can hear nothing but my panting and the sweet sound Tsukki was doing on my dick. He then shoved his mouth right down on my oozing enormous cock. He can’t put it all in. I really got big and turned on this time. His mouth moved slowly going up and down, up and down. Then gazed at me. His gaze looked like he was about to cry, at the same time earnest and eager to give me pleasure. I lowered my eyes on his body and I’m seeing that he’s also touching himself. He’s already preparing his ass for me. Shit. This is way too dangerous. My man is so sexy. I think I may have done something good to deserve this.
‘Tsu...Tsukki.. Ahhh.. I’m about to come.’ |
474eebe1c2e04cf1a2e6b82df9aa1f6d | ['55c416c1fdf44eecb8da4b8ee78e862f'] | "Nothing, I'm fine it's just, I want to find my soulmate and I been getting these weird feelings. Plus this morning I found a bruise on my arm when I was changing clothes and I haven't done any damage to my body." Harry talked quickly and was a bit relieved for telling someone.
"Harry, you have another half!" Gemma squealed on the other line of the phone call.
"Really? But how can I find him?"
"I don't know, it takes time to find your soulmate. It could take days, months maybe even years."
"Thank you, that's all I needed to hear. I'll see you later, Bye." Harry ended the call and slid his phone back into his pocket. He glanced around the area in front of him before picking his gifts up from the floor. "I really need to get home." he told himself. The bags of his gifts hit the sides of his legs every time he took a step. Harry walked outside, green eyes scan the parking lot and trying to remember where he parked. Losing his car was the last thing he needed. Harry walked along the pavement on the side of the mall, narrowed eyes gazed at the ground. What could he possibly need to get through the day? A nap? Lunch with his old pal that he met a long time ago? The latter would be too much. He couldn't pick anything. Harry reached his car the second a car in front of him pulled out of its parking space. A honking sound ringing in his ears. "Did you not see me walking here? You could've run me over." Harry yelled at the bloke. Harry shook his head before unlocking the back of his car. He encouraged his hand to the back of his neck, rubbing a couple circles around. The gifts were set to one side on the surface, pushing outdoor chairs farther back. He closed the door before climbing into the drivers seat. Releasing a quiet sigh, rolling his eyes and rubbing the tiredness away. Maybe Harry did need a nap but he has so many things that need to be done.
Harry pulled up onto the highway, checking his surroundings before turning a right. Just like every lesson on how to drive a vehicle Harry kept his eyes on the road. Every now and then he'll look out the window, blurry images passing by. When he first learn how to drive he was very nervous.
__________________________
"So do you just, flick this thing up when you want to turn left?" Harry narrowed his eyes at the turning signal.
"No, you flick it up when you want to go right."
"Oh right I forgot." Harry sat back in his seat, fingers were becoming clammy as he thought that he was going to drive his car for the first time. Harry's mother, Anne placed a hand on his thigh moving it up and down. Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath before reopening them. Changing the gear to reverse and turning his head to look out one of the back seat windows. "This is so scary." Harry pulled out of the driveway and onto the road. Anne was cheering him on at how perfectly he did it. Another gulp of air that Harry breathed in was released seconds after. Turning the steering wheel before shifting the gear again. Slowly putting his foot on the gas and slightly pushing down on it. Watching his speed and slowing down on corners and giving his car a little more gas. He went around the block a few times before Anne decided that they needed a break and to come inside for dinner.
"You did great, Harry. Something tells me you are getting your license before your friends." Harry laughed and Anne continued, "I think that you should start Drivers Ed next month. Give you more time to drive around so you are more comfortable alone in the car. How does that sound?"
Harry's lips curved up to a smile. He grabbed a fork from the dish washer and sauntered to the dinner table. Harry thought that getting his license was the best thing that could ever happen to him. Scenes playing in his head of him driving around the city of London. Visiting places and meeting new people on the streets and taking his friends to football matches. "Sounds amazing." Anne giggled as she handed her and Harry a plate of Lasagna.
__________________________ | 0cddac68a0964fe4a4c9d14e0c18eb06 | ['55c416c1fdf44eecb8da4b8ee78e862f'] | Harry was an intelligent boy ever since he was born. He was always nice to the other kids on the block and there have never been a time where Harry was stuck in a garbage can. Everyone liked him even his mother's friends like him. They would give a peck on his cheek for being a good boy. His relationship with his sister, Gemma was almost as perfect as a bullseye. Once they would fight, Harry goes into his room with door shut and the lights out. He turns on his lamp and snatch a piece of paper from his drawer. Starts out writing Dear Gemma, and tells sorry and why he should be. He turns his lamp off and tip toe out of his room to Gemma's. Noticing she was sleeping so he places the letter on her desk and walks quietly out of her room. In the morning, Gemma would wake up to find Harry's letter at the edge of her desk. She grabs it and reads it, processing the written words. She jumps out of her bed only to find a six year old Harry eating pancakes on the floor, because he was too small to sit on the stool. Anne would wash the dishes, at the same time keep an eye on Harry. Gemma walks over to Harry giving him a hug and kissing his cheek. Harry wasn't baffled at all he knew the letter would come with some kind of meaning to it and a hug as well.
The day is half way over and Harry was a minute away from his home. He needed to wrap his gifts and he knew it will take some time. Harry was bad at wrapping gifts than Gemma. He was consist of tape stuck on his face and a ribbon tied around his head. He even made a mess with the wrapping paper. The guests in his house lies every year about how great his wrapping skills are. Harry feels he has gotten better or is a professional he would say. The black Range Rover stopped and shut down four feet away from the garage. Harry took the key out of the ignition slot and climbs out of the front seat, making his way to the back as he lifts the back hood. Bags hung on his arms as he slammed the hood close.
Harry unlocked the door and stumbled right in, dropping his items on the couch. Finally remembering to put the keys next to the door.
The holidays always seem to make Harry anxious. So many things need to get done and his to-do list seems to never end. Presents, cards, decorations, it's a lot to do. With a few days left until Christmas Harry is surprised he doesn't go through an annual hair loss due to the stress of it all but as they say, tis the season.
Harry passes through a large arch that enters into the kitchen, but Harry stops and look up to see a mistletoe. Wondering how that got there. He turned his body around as he focused on the jersey that he had bought. Something was getting strange and Harry didn't like it not one bit of it. A purple bruise on his forearm caught his eye, Harry's pad of his thumb pressed down on it and he winced. "I'm really feeling that you are actually here." He said to himself, easily said than done but he knew being confused would get him nowhere. Slowly, he tried to recall the time he found a bruise this morning. "Why are you hurting yourself? I got two bruises from you." Harry kept his thumb on the bruise as he rushed to the sink. Cold water was running and he ran his arm under it. Cold water isn't going to fix it as Harry thought it could be a burn.
A knock had been heard and Harry shut the water off before opening the front door. A man stood in uniform with a clipboard in his left hand and a box in his right. Harry forward his eyebrows as he looked up at the bloke. "Are you Harry Styles?" Harry nodded his head, "I need you to sign this please." the mail man handed his clipboard to Harry. He wrote down his name before giving it back. Harry took the box out of the man's hand before closing the door. Harry had no idea who it was from and what's inside but he doesn't hesitate to find out. Slowly peeling the tape off, the kind used for shipping, and setting it aside. He lifted one flap of the box before lifting the other; he reached inside and pulled out a cookbook, cookie cutters, and a small baggie full of sugar. Not a thought had come across Harry's mind to understand why he had receive these things. At the bottom of the box was a red envelope, with Harry written in neat handwritten. It must been from a girl, girls have the neatest handwriting than boys. Harry opened the envelope and pulled out a card. It was a Christmas card with a snowman in the middle with a blue background and white dots representing snow. He opened to find two bolded words and more handwritten words,
Happy Christmas, from Kylie. |
eb0a0073ff504d6993ea6b07898e35bd | ['55e50173a42c45d882e1cf031b898fbb'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> I'm sorry if it sucks, please don't track me down and murder me. It is currently 2 am and I've had 2-5 too many red-bulls so.............................. yeah.
Nico~
"BEEEEEEEEEP... BEEEEEEEEEEEEEP... BEEEEE-" Nico smashed his alarm clock as he heard that loud, horrible sound nearly rupture his eardrums. He groaned loudly as he slowly lifted himself out of his bed, only to flop down on the ground the second he stood, a horrible ringing sound in his ears.
"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh..." he whispered softly, so he wouldn't wake his father. Nico slowly stood back up, using his bed and floor for support, and holding his pounding head. Today would be the fourth day in a row he hasn't eaten. That would do it for ya. He slowly (everything was so slow) walked over to his dresser. He decided to wear black skinny jeans, a maroon t-shirt, a thin black hoodie, and heavily applied black eyeliner. Nico thought it would distract from the fact that he also got a good hour of sleep this whole week. Fun times.
~This is your first day back at high school,~ his brain reminded him. Nico stared at himself in the mirror, thinking. Okay, he would be the shy, nerdy, emo kid in the back corner. No one would care about him, but a few kids would bully him. That was okay, it only motivated him further to be perfect. He would fake a smile if someone suddenly cared about him (he snorted a little at the thought).
"You can do this, Nico!" he whispered to his reflection. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he made his way past the kitchen and out the door, nothing with him but the sketchbook in his hands. It was only the first day, how bad could it be?
Will~
"Oh wiiiiiiiiiillllll!" He heard his mom yell from the kitchen. Will smiled as he got up and ran to the kitchen to see what his mom made for breakfast. She was a vegan chef/nurse, but always found time to make good grub. She had made him a HUGE fruit salad for breakfast, and a magical surprise for lunch.
"Thanks mom," he said as he scarfed down the food, and sprinted back to his room to get ready. He ran a hand through his golden curls and closed his eyes as he reached into his large pile of clean clothes. "SCORE!" he yelled as he pulled a pair of semi-skinny blue jeans and a bright yellow, fuzzy sweater with a black smiley face on it. He changed into his clothes and ran out the door, kissing his mother on the cheek and grabbing his bag & lunch on the way out.
"BYYYYE," Will yelled
"Se ya after school, kid!" his mom yelled back.
Will ran a couple blocks and started walking at a normal pace towards his new school. On his way he spotted a short (about 5'3) um, individual with dark hair on the other side of the road. Will wasn't completely positive he knew this individuals gender, so he decided to get closer to get a better look. 'cause he's smart like that. He crossed the street and sped up his pace, luckily the persons music was blasting through their earbuds so loud that Will could hear it from 6 feet away. That couldn't be healthy. Will was now looking for details from behind.
Wills Notes (WN): -individual is skinny -individual walks slowly & unsteadily -individual has good taste in music (MCR) -individual looks sad & tired, even from behind
"Are you stalking me?"
Wills Notes 2.0: -individual is male -he has a pretty cute voice, not gonna lie, with a little hint of an Italian accent, it had just a touch of- Wills thoughts were cut off by the guy talking.
"Are you here to beat me up? Did Octavian send you? Are you new? Do I ask too many questions? Yeah, I probably do. Sorry." The boy said. Will just stared, dumbfounded by the boys eyes. They were jet black, but if you looked long enough, you could see little undertones of blue and a bit of gold. Will shook his head.
"oh, sorry!" he said, getting lost in the boys eyes again, "It's just,.. your eyes" Will murmured.
Wills Notes 3.0: -the boy is wearing a lot of eyeliner, and its smexy as hell -he also looks like he hasn't slept in days -he has this cute dusting of freckles across his nose and it's like SUPER adorable and Will thinks the boy is like, really cute -the boy is probably a bit creeped out -he has like kind of emoish black hair that kind of just fell into his SUPER pretty eyes
Will quickly tucked that hair behind the boys ear without thinking.
"Uh, sorry again!" Will kind of yelled. "It's just, your hair got in your face, and I really didn't appreciate it, so I moved it and that might have been kind of creep-" Will cut himself off and held out a hand.
"Will Solace." The boy took it and said quietly, "Nico di Angelo." And Will had never herd a more perfect name in his life.
Nico~ (back in time, Nico just left his house and Will is approaching)
Nico walked down the street slowly, listening to "Mama" by MCR, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a blonde guy following him. He decided to act normal in case the guy had just been walking in the same direction as him. But the boy just got closer. Nico decided to call the boy Bob.
"Are you stalking me?" Nico asked, as the song ended, the boy just seemed lost in thought. | 7af2dab627cd4b4a92e47f0d12d2f624 | ['55e50173a42c45d882e1cf031b898fbb'] | “Answer me when I talk to you, brat,” Hersophona growled at him, her face was so close that Nico could smell the scent of the ocean. Percy’s scent. Nico felt a pang of hatred deep in his chest, causing him to lash out and headbutt his half sister. She looked at him in shock, like she thought he would never be stupid enough to do such a thing.
“Oh, did you smell Percy on me? You must really love him for it to take affect that quickly, usually it can take months for even a small disliking against someone. Wait, I wonder,” She trailed off as she walked over to a small desk that had multiple weapons covering it and opened a drawer, pulling out a worn leather book. She opened it up and flipped through the pages quickly, a huge smile on her face. That couldn’t be good.
“Exactly as I thought, since it took you mere seconds to feel resentful against him, that means you two,” She paused to look up at him, “are soul-mates.” Nico looked up at her with his eyes blown wide and his thick eyebrows drawn together.
“And now I will send one of my minions to pose as you, gain Percys trust, then break it! This should be fun,” she said, smirking at him with an evil glint in her eye.
‘Percy,’ he thought, ‘hurry up and save me.’
Percy POV
Percy woke up in a tank full of water, wearing nothing but his finding Nemo boxers. He looked all around for a way to escape, but there was none. He was surrounded by thick glass and the overwhelming need to be free. But he was a demigod, nothing ever worked out for him.
“Ahh, the spawn of Poseidon, how sweet! Did you come to save me?” He heard a familiar voice say from the doorway. He looked up to find, Nico? Something was off about him, Percy didn’t feel a spark of, well, that feeling he felt whenever he looked at Nico.
“Who are you?” Percy asked with a glare. Fake Nico looked taken aback, as if he was surprised Percy could see right through him.
“You two really do have a strong bond, most couples don’t realize that I’m fake,” Fake Nico said with a grin.
“It’ll be fun to break that bond.” Percy was very confused by these words, what did he mean by couple, just how strong was his bond with Nico, and what was that feeling in his stomach that he felt whenever he looked at the real Nico?
“Who are you, where am I, why am I here?” Percy fired out questions one after another. Fake Nico looked at him with a bored expression the whole time.
“I don’t know,” Fake Nico said when Percy finished his questioning. Percy was about to question him further, but fake Nico just turned on his heel and walked out of the room. Nico never did that.When fake Nico was finally gone, Percy took a sigh of relief. It was weird for someone else to use Nico's super attractive self. In a bro kind of way, no homo, of course.
After a while of feeling sorry for himself for being stuck in a small tank, Percy decided to find a way to escape. He searched all around him for something he could use to break the thick glass, coming up with the water that surrounded him to break free. Duh.
Percy concentrated on memories to give him the strength to break the glass, naturally, they were all of Nico. The rare smiles that would invade Nico’s face when he thought nobody was looking, the expression on his face when Leo cot a smudge of dirt on his aviator jacket, one of pure rage. So many thoughts overwhelmed his senses as he pushed harder and harder on the glass, until it suddenly shattered into a million tiny shards.
“Dam, I’m amazing,” Percy whispered to himself as he ran out of the room in search of his cute little friend, Nico.
**Author's Note:**
> I hope you liked it!!! |
df402ee76aef448484ad28aa899f4421 | ['55e6661d2c7743948deb15cf86acb81c'] |
Fire Exposes Our Priorities
**Author's Note:**
> This was something a friend of mine asked me to write, so here it is...
_Amazing, isn’t it? How fire exposes our priorities_?
You’d always been fascinated by fire. It could be so easily controlled by a lighter, yet was so dangerous in a forest. It was one of Earth’s basic elements, and people had learned to use it to their advantage. An unstoppable yet beautiful force. Peter thought that applied to you, too.
“What’s wrong?” Peter had asked you, when he saw you looking irritated as you hovered in a hallway after class.
“Nothing… It’s just, I have to go to work now, and on Friday’s, my manager smokes inside. Which he really isn’t allowed to do, and it makes me so nervous - but what can I do? Nothing.” Peter smiled sympathetically, walking out of the building with you. He suggested talking to someone with more power than your manager, but you shook your head. “He knows I’m the only one who cares enough to complain. He’d get me fired.” You sighed, and a few minutes later, Peter left.
When you got to work, you begrudgingly did as you were told, following your daily routine. It wasn’t until a few hours later that you noticed something was wrong. A burning smell infiltrated your nostrils, but you ignored it, too focussed on your work and not wanting to do overtime. Your headphones were firmly in your ears, and you were happily mouthing the words to a song, oblivious to what was happening around you. People started running out of the room, and you didn’t look up until the fire alarm shocked you back into the real world. Dazed, you took out your headphones and looked around at the fire spreading around you. You’d always assumed that in this sort of situation, you’d be the first person running away, but the fear and shock simply made you freeze in place, staring at the danger with terror in your eyes.
Thick smoke started filling the area, and you finally came to your senses, running for the door. It was too late. The doorway collapsed, trapping you in the room. You could hear shouts from outside, and you walked over to the window - it wasn’t big enough to jump out of. Time passed slowly, the minutes that you were there feeling more like hours. Areas of the ceiling started to cave in, and you had no idea what to do - you couldn’t get out, so you could simply try to avoid the falling pieces of wood and watch people from the small window. There was no point calling for help; they knew you were up here, now.
Breathing starting to speed up, you clutched the edge of a table for support. Smoke infiltrated your lungs; making you gasp for breath as your body fought to draw in enough oxygen. More time passed, until you were laying on the floor, not steady enough to stand. At that moment, your saviour appeared.
“Hey, are you alive?” A voice asked, and you turned your head to look up at him. Your name left his lips, but you barely noticed that Spider-Man appeared to be recognising you, instead using all of your energy to try and push yourself back up.
Reacting quickly, he wrapped an arm around you to help you stand, and turned back the way he came - through the fire. His suit was flame resistant, but yours wasn’t, so he decided that wasn’t a suitable option. Instead, he started attaching webs to the fallen ceiling, pulling chunks up from the floor and throwing them into the other side of the room. When a path was finally clear, he picked you up, seeing that you were barely conscious.
He took a moment to think. This was important, but it didn’t take long. As he looked down at you, he quickly pulled off his mask and put it on your head instead. The mask had a built in filter, which meant it stopped him from breathing in any of the smoke, so he hoped that it would stop you from getting any worse. Coughing a little, he ran through the doorway, and then found a window to swing out of, dropping you on a nearby rooftop.
His instincts told him to take back the mask, to protect his identity, but he wasn’t sure if you still needed it to help you breathe, now you were out of the building. But he didn’t want to risk it, so you continued wearing the mask for a little while longer, as Peter sat next to you and watched the building burn.
When you were finally back to normal, your brain started to finally figure out what was happening - you were sitting next to your best friend, who also appeared to be Spider-Man, while wearing his mask, after nearly burning to death. Despite the shock of all this new information, you tried your best to play it cool, and not freak out about this revelation.
“You saved me.” You simply said, with no emotion in your voice; it was just a fact.
“Yeah, I did.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He nodded, and then there was a beat of silence. Not an awkward silence, but definitely a long one. “Can I have my mask back?”
“Right, yeah, here-“ You stumbled over your words as you took off the mask and handed it back to him. “So you’re Spider-Man, huh?” You mumbled, deliberately not making eye contact with him as you watched the firemen start to put out the fire.
“Yeah.” Peter nodded, examining your face in an attempt to figure out what you were feeling; he had a feeling you might be angry that he hadn’t told you himself. But as you turned to look at him again with a small smile, still trying not to freak out, he calmed down a little. | b1b08caae9914a04a15a911612b055e7 | ['55e6661d2c7743948deb15cf86acb81c'] | “That’s pretty cool.” You simply hummed, and he nodded, putting an arm around your shoulders and hugging you.
“Yeah, it is.” He grinned, before hearing you cough, which made his expression drop. “How are you feeling? I was hoping you didn’t inhale too much smoke - but you’ll be alright, yeah?”
“I’m fine, Peter, don’t worry. You saved me; thank you.” You sighed, leaning into the hug.
“So was it the cigarette that caused the fire?” Peter suddenly asked, remembering your conversation from earlier.
“I don’t know, but that’s him, right there,” You pointed over to a man on the road, “talking to the police.”
“Hopefully this will teach him a lesson, either way.” Peter muttered, and you nodded in agreement.
As the two of you left the area, he kept his arm around your shoulders comfortingly. When his phone buzzed, he suddenly realised he had lots of missed texts from Ned and MJ, but he typed a quick response, then simply tucked the phone back into his pocket - not before you’d managed to see a few of them, though.
“They wanted to see you; you should go.”
“I see them all the time, it’s fine. Right now I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He said, smiling down at you, and you couldn’t help the smile that graced your own lips in return.
_Isn’t it amazing how fire exposes our priorities?_ |
e60014a2b15e4af2a049efe31a359d61 | ['55eef7e1e6694b35b8e079d886756ac8'] | Their eyes squeezed back shut, or seemed to narrow. They slowly turned their head to gaze up at my wood paneled ceiling. Then down at the cream and yellow woven rug on my floor that covered worn wooden panels. Slowly they trailed their gaze towards my kitchen and the little cafe table that crowded towards the kitchen windows and a back door. Slowly they looked towards the hallway where a lamp hanging on the the wall dimly lit the way. What a curious child!
I tried to give my kindest smile as I waited for them to talk. At least they were moving a bit, yes? Eventually a tiny hand grasped one of the large fingers of my paw and gave a tight squeeze. Just what were they going to or trying to say?
I felt them turn their gaze to me, and eventually a hand moved to… Sign? To me? I cannot recall all the movements they made, but somehow I understood their physical language.
I’m alive.
“Why yes, you are.” I gave a small chuckle and squeezed their small hand back as gently as I could, my claws gently rubbing against the palm and back of their hand. The wrinkled their nose and gave a toothy grin.
I’m in a monster’s house.
Nodding softly, I turned and grasped their drink, “You are little one.” I shook my head, “Strange, is it not?”
They nodded and seemed to agree. Slowly they say up and extended their hands out. I tilted my head, carefully handing them the mug.
“Be careful- it might be too hot for your body at this moment-”
As soon as I said that they began downing the drink as if there was no tomorrow.
My brows furrowed in concern and I gave a weary look. A speaker and listener they were not…
Sighing in relief, the young child put the mug back down into my hands that were still open and ready to take their mug. Smiling a little, they turned to give me their full attention. I was not expecting this, but I tried my best to look open and friendly as I introduced myself.
“My name is Toriel Gaelyn,” I hummed softly, placing the mug back over on the coffee table. The child opened their eyes somewhat and glanced over at the mug when it was set down, “A simple farmer who lives on the edge of town.”
They nodded and started to gesture to themselves as they signed their name.
I’m Frisk. I don’t have a last name.
How mysterious. I knew of their name, but I did not know why they decided to venture out so far from their home! My concern for Frisk only grew. How could a child this young and small be wandering about out in this weather?! And in only a sweater too! How silly!
“Well Frisk,” my tone only grew concerned, and I couldn’t keep my lips from curling into a stern pout, “Why on Earth were you out in the snow wearing nothing but worn boots and a sweater?!”
Frisk gave me an odd look, their eyes widening a bit. Their stare gave me the impression that they were wondering, “well isn’t the answer obvious? Why would you even need to ask?”
Miss Gaelyn- They started, but I cut them off quickly with a soft chuckle.
“Toriel is fine, dear.”
Toriel… Look outside. It hasn’t stopped snowing in forever! Frisk seemed urgent as they told me this. I watched them pout a little and turn to look out the window at the storm. A sadness lingered in their stare, and it made my heart wrench a bit. Young children should not have to fear the weather- cooped up inside, watching it snow day after day! What a horrible thing for them to witness! I want to stop the snow once and for all. Can’t stand seeing it this way for the rest of forever.
“It… Has been snowing for a while…” It was pointless to play off the snow as a minor inconvenience. Everyone was tired of the weather being cursed to stay this way.
I felt eyes steer themselves up at me. Frisk frowned solemnly.
There has to be a way to stop the snow.
My mind wandered to Gerson and talks of the map. Talks of finding out who did this and asking them what could be done to stop this madness. I shivered a bit as my crimson gaze slowly tore itself over to the rolled up piece of parchment on the table.
“Yes well….” I trailed off and awkwardly messed with my paws. Should I tell Frisk what I knew? Oh I was being silly! A child as impressionable as them could get into a lot of trouble if I told them where I was going and why!
They studied me and my awkward silence, furrowing their thick brows for a moment.
Getting up, I gave them a quick smile, “Well little one- how about I get you a snack? And some new clothes- a coat maybe, it’s so dreadfully cold out-”
Toriel, they interrupted me swiftly, a sad look in their eyes, Do you know something I don’t?
I felt bile in the back of my throat at their question. I just wanted to protect them… Although I didn’t know them well, a child this small… This vulnerable.
The words I thought of saying and thought not of saying battled on the end of my tongue. Tangling around like brambles. Should I tell them the truth, or lie and send them on their way?
Remember Toriel! Should this winter not end, we will all eventually fall to ruin! Caught in its cold clutches, unable to escape! | b00bc2cabf734bc693e21362d95abdf3 | ['55eef7e1e6694b35b8e079d886756ac8'] | > Thank you for all the love and support so far! This chapter may be a bit rushed--I've started three online college courses and had to work during Memorial Day Weekend. Despite that let's get this show on the road!
Ganondorf sat steadfast at his computer, typing away at plans for the new crystal ball line. His team had just gotten documents written up for a line of sleeker and faster crystal balls that could connect you to anywhere in Hyrule in a blink of an eye. Perfect for Gorons and Gerudo! The CEO felt eager to announce the upcoming product line to the public.
Each announcement Crystal Clear Communications did was a gigantic event, talked about in newspapers all over Hyrule. A huge celebration would be held around Christmas at an elegant venue that would be open to the public. Their next announcement had to be big. He refused to lose to these new cell phone companies he hadn’t partnered with yet.
As Ganondorf typed away at his keyboard he was unaware of Nabooru behind his door, gleefully smirking away and snickering. In her hand she had a tabloid paper containing some rather… _ Fascinating _ news. Normally she would have discarded the rag in a recycling bin, yet when she saw the headline…
It was delicious. She had to speak with her friend immediately~
Nabooru jittered as she knocked at the door, stifling a laugh when she heard a gruff, “Enter!” in response. Pulling the door open, Nabooru slid inside inside and held the paper close to her chest. Ganondorf’s eyes flickered up to regard her momentarily before turning back to his work.
No other word of acknowledgment was given, leaving Nabooru with the impression that he was absorbed in detailing their new product line.
Raising her trimmed brows, the Gerudo woman pursed her nude colored lips for a moment in thought. Should she distract him with this amazing gossip or leave him be?
_ It would be more interesting to bug him. Especially after that little lunch date yesterday~ _
Nabooru had to admit, she wasn’t sure how Link had convinced Ganondorf to go out with Zelda so quickly. He tended to hold grudges for much longer than just a few days. Yet it seemed Ganondorf had enjoyed Zelda’s company, as he came back with a smile on his face and said nothing good or bad over the events of their lunch.
Coming to a decision, Nabooru sauntered over to Ganondorf’s desk and held the tabloid over his computer screen, causing him to jump and glower down at her with a growl.
“Nabooru-”
“Read it.” Nabooru chuckled and shook the paper. Ganondorf furrowed his brows before letting his gaze trail across the paper. Immediately a dark look passed over his features. Ripping the paper out of Nabooru’s well manicured hands he snarled furiously, “This rumor they are propagating is false! We are not in a relationship!”
Nabooru wore a playful grin as she cackled, “You sure~? You’re holding an umbrella for her on the cover! Looks like something a couple would do- she’s almost holding your arm!”
“That means nothing! She’s short! That’s why she’s walking so close to me!” Ganondorf yelled, ripping the paper in half in a fury. Nabooru didn’t wince as she watched him in amusement. It was always so fun to watch him throw a fit~
Nabooru covered her mouth with a hand as she chuckled, sitting back in the chair across from Ganondorf’s desk. Ganondorf continued to fume, crossing his arms and hunching down to scowl at her.
“Listen Gan, it’s okay if you want to start dating,” she held up her hands and kick her heels up onto his desk, “It’s fine! If you want to feel less lonely-”
“That isn’t what this is,” He cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand. Sighing, Ganondorf’s face ended up in his palm before running through his hair, “I merely went out to lunch with her to make Link happy. He tried to invite her over for dinner again.”
Brows raised as Nabooru took in this information. Link really was attached to his teacher. Enough to want her and Ganondorf to be friends…. She was shocked. He wasn’t like this about anyone else his Father knew.
Nabooru pursed her lips and asked quietly, “Is Link desiring… A mother?”
Ganondorf’s eyes widen as he took that idea in. Could Link be….? No. No there was no way- he would have said something by now! He had never mentioned desiring a mother! He made sure that Link was in contact with the Gerudo whenever it was feasible! He got to see his grandmothers at each holiday! Link was fine with only having a Father!
“Gan…” Nabooru readjusted herself, feet placed on the ground once more. She leaned in to give Ganondorf a sympathetic stare, “Answer me please.”
“We’re fine. _ He’s fine _ .” Ganondorf insisted, pushing his hands out. Anxiety curled and flared up inside his gut at the very thought of Link crying out for another parent. No no no! He didn’t want to get married! Link didn’t need a mother!
“Nabs I’d tell you if I was getting with anybody.” Ganondorf muttered, turning around in his chair to stare at the wall behind his desk. His hair seemed to stand on end as he gripped the armrests of his chair in a panic.
Nabooru could sense something was wrong as she stood up to come around his desk to slowly place a hand on his shoulder. Ganondorf winced and shrugged her hand off.
He felt numb all over as his heart thumped wildly.
“I know you would.” Nabooru whispered softly. She took Ganondorf’s hand and squeezed it tight, “Please take some deep breaths. You look as pale as a Hylian right now.” |
3bc8a30ff4064fdda20eb784281df524 | ['55fb7a31102a49bfb501f403c34e8ad8'] | No matter what his intentions are, it doesn’t mean I can’t steal glances at his exposed arms and legs, trying hard not to get hypnotized by the play of his muscles as he moves. Once or twice I think he might have caught me, judging by his expression, but I can’t be sure. When the path narrows, I don’t mind him walking ahead, unabashedly using the chance to ogle his spectacular behind.
Obviously, being me, I trip, falling into the dirt with a startled “Ah!”
Great. I am sprawled on the ground, full body-contact up to my chest. If the earth could please open up and swallow me right now, that would be great.
“Oh shit! Everything okay?” Chris asks, concern in his voice.
I push myself up onto my knees.
“Yeah, I think it’s fine.” Damn it. This is so not how I wanted this day to go...
Chris offers me a hand and I reach out, allowing him to pull me to my feet. Because he’s slightly further uphill, he seems even taller, and date or no date, I am acutely aware of my hand in his, the first time we’ve ever really touched for more than a split-second, and despite my humiliation, I don’t want to let go. We’re standing still, so close I can sense his body heat and see the grey specks in his eyes.
I must be hallucinating because it feels as if his thumb is caressing my hand, just the lightest movement back and forth. I am so startled, I look down, and of course that’s what breaks the spell, making him let go of me.
He clears his throat and his adam's apple bobs as he swallows. “Still no pain?”
I look down and cringe. My entire front is covered in fine grey sand. I start wiping at it, patting my body from my shins up, doing my best to stop looking like an idiot.
“Everything’s okay,” I assure him, furiously slapping the dirt from my thighs. “I think it’s just my pride that’s hurt, so nothing serious.”
He doesn’t say anything, so I just keep going, moving up to my shirt, doing my best to get the dust off my boobs. I manage to reduce it to a grey hue and accepting that’s as good as it’ll get, I look up, expecting to find him a few yards ahead of me.
Instead, what I find is Christopher Pike, still in the exact same spot, without doubt staring at my cleavage. I suddenly notice the vee of my shirt is even lower after my cleaning attempts.
Holy shit. What am I supposed to do?
There has got to be a perfect flirty line, but my brain comes up empty while all my blood rushes down between my legs at the realization that the most attractive guy I know is so obviously interested in my chest. I guess that rules out wanting to be just friends.
And then he looks up and I expect him to blush, to apologize, to maybe be embarrassed, but there is none of that. Instead, he confidently holds my gaze. I don’t think I have ever been so turned on. I resist the urge to look down to see if my arousal is plain to see for everyone, especially handsome men checking out my cleavage.
“Ready to keep going?”
“What?” I ask, not sure what he’s talking about.
He grins and raises an eyebrow. Seriously, this isn’t fair. How are you supposed to think straight if this guy is flirting with you?
“Up the hill. I promised you a sight, remember?”
Oh right. Dog park, hill, sight. I’m back on track.
“Sure. Lead the way.”
***
The rest of our walk is less eventful – by which I mean I’m not making a fool of myself again. And while I’m generally not a fan of walking up hills, I have to admit that the sight was indeed spectacular. So was spending the afternoon in Chris’s company.
When we pull up in front of my door, I’m a little sad that it’s over. I try not to let it show though. Wouldn’t want to give him the wrong impression, or any impression at all, because I’m still confused about what’s going on between us.
“Thanks. I had a great time,” I say with a smile.
“So did I,” he responds, then looks away for a second before turning back to me. “You’re welcome to join us any time you like.”
“Guess I’ll have to check the weather forecast more often from now on.” I unfasten the seat belt and lean towards the back, to scratch Emily’s neck. “Goodbye, Emily.”
I have already opened the door and am about to step out of the car when his voice stops me. “I’m out of town for a few days, but I was wondering if maybe you would like to have dinner with me once I’m back.”
Holy shit! Dinner is definitely a date. There’s no denying it. I’m being asked out on a date by Christopher Pike! Gorgeous, charming, sexy Christopher Pike. Part of me wants to flail and squee at this development. Obviously I can’t do that in front of him. Ok, Tilly, play it cool.
“Sure, that would be nice.”
He seems genuinely happy and maybe even a little relieved. “Great. I’ll call you when I’m back.”
“Ok. See you soon.”
“Bye, Tilly.”
I manage to make it into the house and wait until the door is closed before I start jumping up and down, while squeeing like a crazy person. I officially have a date with Chris. And I happily ignore that we haven’t set a date yet.
5. On my Mind | 2f7c3e2a92d04f69bf59d564c3ea1d1f | ['55fb7a31102a49bfb501f403c34e8ad8'] | “Go get your stuff,” she whispers to me. “We can clean up without you. Just go and walk out with him.”
I open my mouth to at least pretend to protest but she interrupts me before I can get a single word out.
“Oh please, Tilly, if you two finally take the next step, you’ll do us all a favor.”
I refrain from debating the fact that any of this leading anywhere is unlikely. After all, getting to go home early has its perks - particularly if I get to walk part of the way with Christopher. I’m not going to say no to that.
Without waiting another second, I dash into the back room, toss my apron and name-tag into my cubby, and grab my purse and jacket. I even find time to check my reflection in the mirror. Not what I’d call ‘ready to impress’, but I swipe away a bit of smudged eyeliner and feel presentable enough.
I emerge just in time to see Keyla doing something overly complicated with the foamed milk, clearly playing for time. My friends are the best.
Zipping behind the counter, I whisper my thanks as she passes the cup to me.
Christopher looks amused by the slight chaos at the shop tonight as I hand him his drink.
“You know,” I try to keep my tone as casual as possible, “I actually just finished my shift and if you want some company, I could walk a little with you. I just need to get to a BART station.”
Please say, yes, please say yes…
And he does. With a glint in his eyes and dimples showing.
I hurriedly thank Owo and Keyla again, who assure me I owe them details, and then I am leaving work alongside Christopher, so giddy I have to stop myself from bouncing.
He unties his dog, who comes over to sniff my hand, body conveying careful curiosity.
“This is Emily.”
I tentatively pat the dog’s dark fur. She seems to be okay with me.
“She’s really pretty. What breed is she?”
“A Kelpie-mix.”
We fall into an easy conversation about how his dog was staying with a friend this past week and that he likes to go running and hiking and all kinds of outdoorsy stuff. He even asks about my first name, a question I refuse to answer initially, because there’s a reason everyone just calls me Tilly. Truth be told, I’m not particularly fond of my name. I tell him in the end, but only after he promises he’ll stick to Tilly.
We continue to chat about this and that and I share my passion for music festivals. It’s nice to talk to him outside the shop, away from my friends’ curious gazes, and I am really sad when we approach that stupid station way too soon.
“I guess that’s good-bye for now…” I trail off, hoping it doesn’t have to be.
He is playing with the leash, moving it around and I catch myself being transfixed by his actions. He has incredibly nice hands, and even though I’ve noticed before, this time I can’t stop staring. They are large, tanned, and well-cared for. I wonder what they’d feel like against my skin, how he’d touch me, if he’d be rough or…
“If you would be interested, we could go for an actual walk,” he suggests quietly, stopping my train of thought.
My eyes snap up to his, and I know I am blushing.
“Although you might have to check the weather report to pick appropriate clothing,” he teases with a wink.
“I think I can make an exception.” My cheeks hurt with my massive smile.
Trying to act like it’s not the most exciting thing to happen to me in months or possibly ever, we exchange numbers, agree for him to pick me up on Friday afternoon at four, and then I am walking to the train with a silly wave, that he mirrors.
I feel like I am floating with happiness and don’t even notice for a full two stops that I got on the wrong train.
***
I leave this particular part out when I relay the details about my conversation with Christopher to my co-conspirators the next day.
“So you’re going on a date?” Kayla asks matter-of-factly once I’m done.
“No, I’m not,” I say, throwing her a look that says exactly what I think of her crazy notion. A date is dinner and a movie, not walking a dog.
“Sure you are. You have made plans. He’s picking you up. You’re going somewhere together.”
“Sounds like a date to me,” Owo chimes in.
“Seriously, guys, this isn’t a date,” I insist, but a little uncertainty creeps into my mind. Have I agreed to a date with Christopher without even realizing? Surely not.
“He’s just trying to drag me outside.” It sounds defensive, even to my own ears, so I add, “He keeps saying I can’t stay inside working, either here or at school for the next three years.”
“Sounds like he cares about you,” says Keyla, grinning widely.
I have had just about enough of their teasing, so I grab a tea towel and throw it at her.
3. guest appearance
Thursday brings my busiest day at campus. Between teaching two seminars and the weekly meeting with my supervisor Professor Stamets, I’m up to my neck in preparations for the upcoming Climate Change Network Conference I’m organizing with Michael, my office-buddy and part-time life-coach as I like to call her. By the time I finally make it home, I am just absolutely beat.
I let the door fall shut behind me and drop my bag to the floor, then lose the jumper on my way to the bathroom. All I want now is a shower and some time in front of the TV, preferably with my feet up and possibly some ice cream. |
b1b6363a3de644a589c41caae4e70a72 | ['561a8f794052439289989471fa92fef7'] | After a drawn-out minute, she responded. “Of course, Ren. We would be happy to.” She sounded a little far from happy, but she put on a smile anyhow; deep down, however, he could see the glint of envy in the beautiful emerald pools of her eyes. It made his heart stop for a second and all he could do was nod as a thank you to her.
The prince felt more somber than ever as he headed back onto the deck. Why did his feelings have to be tearing him apart inside? It was as if his heart was almost as ravaged as their world was! He wondered if Tula suspected something, and she did have every right to suspect.
“Well, Ioz,” The prince began to speak once he was fully on deck. The older male looked at him with his dark eyes, although they had a warmth behind their gaze. “Tula said it was fine, so let us venture onto land for a while. A real bed does sound very nice!” He spoke as jovially as he possibly could, even if his heart felt heavy and low in his chest.
Once Tula and the Monkey-bird had emerged from the cabin below, Ioz and Ren set off for the somewhat unsavory town. Where would they be staying, anyhow? The blond male figured that his scarred companion had some place in mind, since he was so familiar with the town; more than likely, though, the inn would be one of the few close to Zoolie’s. Not that there was any problem with that! He just hoped that Ioz would not drag him into a gaming house while he was so tired still.
The older male just wrapped a dark, muscular arm around Ren’s shoulders to lead him into the town; once they reached a fairly nice inn (or as nice as a pirate town could provide) Ioz stopped and smiled down at the blond. Ren, however, looked a little uncomfortable about their close proximity in public.
“Here we are. It’s probably the best inn in all of Janda Town!” Ioz said enthusiastically; but _of course_ it was the best to the older man! They were two buildings away from Zoolie’s Game House! Ren just rolled his eyes a little, but he would take his pirate companion’s word for it.
The dark haired male went in first, allowing the prince to take his time; once the blond male had entered he immediately noticed that Ioz was bargaining for a room. “ Ay jitata! I will give you 20 gold for a room. Two beds, a private tub and enough heated water for three baths in it. This is my final offer, inn-keeper!” Ioz growled a little, his hand instinctively going towards his sword; he had to haggle with this man, it was a matter of principle!
The inn-keeper looked a little alarmed, but he nodded in agreement. “A-all right, 20 gold. You will have three heat-able baths and the largest beds we have and room to spare!” He gave a nod as he tried to will away the wavering in his voice; he handed a key to Ioz and instructed the pirate where the room was. Ren figured that the guy was new to the island, since he didn’t seem to have a stomach for dealing with pirates.
With a mischievous grin, the scarred male turned to Ren and laughed. “Well, hope you don’t mind sharing one bed, my friend. The other one is for Tula.”
The prince blushed rather deeply, but he shook his head almost too energetically; he did not mind, but he still had no idea what was in store for him once they got to their room!
As they walked up the rickety stairs of the inn to the rooms above, the blond male slouched a little and hung his head; he looked surly and disdainful, which made him appear to be the slightly rebellious teenager that he was, instead of royalty.
Ioz looked back at his male ship-mate, who was falling behind somewhat rapidly. He opened his mouth to say something, and then thought better of it; Ren had been in a rather foul mood all day, and the older male did not particularly know how to deal with it. He had been a teenager once, but that was years ago and it seemed so long now.
Of course he had not changed much, seeing as he was a pirate who hunted treasure and brawled against others for money. Well, that and he hardly knew how to deal with those younger than he was, he had proven to be quite a bad mentor when it came to his sister; Ioz regretted that a little, but maybe he could make up for it by actually doing some good in the world, which boiled down to saving Mer at least.
When Ioz stopped in front of their room’s door, he felt the prince bump into him as if Ren had not been paying attention at all. “Chongo longo, Ren! Watch where you are going, or you may run into someone who would not be as happy to see you.” The pirate spoke sternly to his younger companion, turning his head to give the prince a look. Ren, on the other hand, seemed to turn his gaze elsewhere as if he was embarrassed.
The dark haired man just smiled a little; he knew that his prince was nervous, but to see him look so embarrassed was rather cute. Once the pirate unlocked the door and opened it, he ushered the blond male in first and followed soon after.
The room itself was very nice, and Ren was mildly surprised at that fact; he was even more surprised that it looked like a place where wealthy patrons would stay rather than some pirates. | 8f2f356358d740c3a0fde65fefcc1dd9 | ['561a8f794052439289989471fa92fef7'] | Oh… My. The pirate was taking his liberties with the prince’s bound body. He was smacking the boy roughly on his toned ass with his leather belt, and grabbing his hair to tug the prince’s head back, growling out dominantly into the boy’s ear for Ren to call his name. The prince seemed to call out ecstatically and practically arched into the next whack from the leather belt. She had worked as a barmaid, so it was not as if she had not heard things at the inn she worked at, but this was… It was her two friends, and it was beyond erotic -- fast approaching the territory of being too explicit for one’s own good.
Tula’s eyes were much wider than before and she could not help but gasp softly. She fled the room quietly and made it to her own bedchambers. The young woman was not sure whether she wanted to cry for the loss of Ren to Ioz, or to blush and run the scene over and over in her head again. It had been an arousing display; she was not used to watching _others_ do such acts, and two men together was fascinating!
“Kunda, what do I do? Who do I speak to?” She asked herself softly as the events inundated her thoughts. More details were forming in her mind; the way that the prince was obviously aroused and begging, and how well-endowed Ioz was.
By the blood moons of Mer, she would never be able to see those two the same way again! At least, not for a while. She would have to avoid them until their journey resumed, but then what..? The young woman almost wished she had watched for just a little longer… It was not every day that one got to see such a display of depravity!
She did not feel much jealousy, she realized after the shock had worn off. In fact, she not really felt _that_ sort of love for Ren since they had met. He had become like a brother to her; maybe it was because he and Ioz were both equalizing factors: Ren was the rational, yet more naive one, while Ioz was brash and a little _too_ worldly. Wordlessly, she left her chambers again and went to the library this time. She would have to bury her imagination in the information of books and other things.
It was a little difficult to do, and she had ended up falling asleep as she read scrolls on magic and Ecomancy; she had also been charting a rather out-dated map to update it. It was in good condition for having been in a palace that had been previously crumbling to the ground. Maybe the magic of the Treasures of Rule restored everything and not just the city itself.
* * *
Morning came, and Tula was awoken by the care-taker, Jenna. She blinked blearily at the older woman and stretched. “There is breakfast ready in the dining hall, my dear.” The aged woman with red hair said softly and patted the Ecomancer on the back. Tula just nodded sleepily and looked down at the scroll she had been studying before she had dozed off.
Oh, it was something on royal rules and regulations; when had she pulled this one out? Most of what she had been interested in was Ecomancy itself, but apparently in her weary haze she had wanted to see if… If Ren and Ioz could be together, maybe? The dark haired girl did not know what she was looking for exactly, but her bright, green eyes scanned over the laws again. There was nothing against two men together, so at least in that her two friends would be safe. But would Ren be shunned by his people if he was outed?
A king with no heir and lover of a pirate was not exactly what people looked for in their leaders. She sighed and rolled up the scroll, putting it back in place. The other scrolls on Ecomancy she would keep to read for while they stayed in Octopon, but… Now she was trying to sort her feelings out rather numbly. She _knew_ that she did not want Ren like that, especially now! But him with Ioz… It seemed a little dangerous for them to be a couple. Tula would have to speak to the prince when she could get him alone; they would have to sort his life out, because she did not wish for him to be outcast from his home. It would be as painful to him as it was for her to find Andorus and all of her family wiped out by the Dark Water…
She soon made her way to the dining area and found only Niddler there, happily munching on minga melons and other fruits. “Where are Ren and Ioz?” She asked him quietly. He shrugged a little and tilted his head.
“Haven’t seen them all morning. So, I would assume that they’re still asleep.” The Monkey-bird laughed a little and took another bite of his food. “More for us, then! Right?” He was eyeing Tula with interest; she had a faraway look in her eyes and seemed to be thinking of something as she pulled out her chair and sat down.
“Is something on your mind..?” The feathered creature asked a little more quietly, and she turned her pensive gaze to him. _Of_ _course_ something was on her mind, something had been since the night before and it had come to her well before she snooped around. Quietly, she nodded and leaned in to whisper to the Monkey-bird.
“Noy jitat, you were right, you know! What you told me about two men being lovers… I mean, I did not think that they… Well… Ah, chongo longo Niddler, I feel conflicted about it! I am happy for them, but I worry for Ren’s future.” She murmured to the winged creature; his already large eyes grew larger still. Now, he had already suspected ever since Ren and Ioz had spent more time alone together, but to be right about it was something else entirely.
“Are you sure?” He whispered back, and she nodded adamantly. So then, his instincts were not off when it came to humanoid creatures either! Niddler smiled a little smugly and began to laugh. He did so enjoy being right!
Tula gave his head a light smack and shook her own head “His people cannot find out, you know? Scupango, what would they think of their prince?!” She asked him in a hushed voice, and he realized why she was whispering in the first place! Humanoids had such strange rules and customs, but he supposed that since Ren was a prince, then he was expected to have a wife…
Just as if the Queen of the Monkey-bird’s had turned out to prefer females and then their own would die out… By Daven’s Beard, this would be far more complicated than he had thought!
“I won’t tell if you won’t.” He said finally, and the green eyed woman just nodded somberly. Now all they had to do was sit down and talk with their prince, and possibly with Ioz as well. |
55ca66a6ad2243f9b2e6a29473dce06e | ['562596fbfa144ff1975c3c5ec7492cec'] | “Are you okay?” Aurora kept her hands on her, light and careful.
Mikris nodded. “Just… afraid?”
“You’re safe here, I promise.”
Mikris flicked her eyes around the ship. Small, but it seemed cozy. It was just big enough that Mikris could stand without bumping her head. “Your ship?”
Aurora nodded. “Sorry. I just… I don’t know what happened. I needed to be somewhere safe.” She sounded almost ashamed, looking down, shoulders hunched.
“Your Light… I… I never have see that. Was… was…” She shook her head in wonder.
“Golden Gun,” Aurora murmured. She drew back into herself, arms over her chest. “I… haven’t used Golden Gun in a long time. I used to use it a lot, but… I’ve only used it a few times in years, since I joined the City. The last time I used it, I killed Skolas.” She made a strange hissing static sound.
Mikris reached for her this time, very gingerly tapping her claws to her arm. “Why does it make you afraid?” she asked.
“It doesn’t. I don’t know,” Aurora said She shook her head. “It was all I knew when I was just a Risen. Before we were Guardians. Even for the first so many years at the City… but… fire never felt fast enough. I was too slow to protect people. I couldn’t rely on just my own Light. Void let me work with others, void let me stop our enemies before they could hurt anyone.”
“But your Light stop Wizards from hurt me,” Mikris said. She hesitated, and then asked softly, “Did you die?”
Aurora nodded. “I didn’t expect them to come behind us. I just… I got up and I saw you, and… and… I don’t know. I don’t know what happened. I think I got angry, that they were trying to hurt you. I was scared. But I usually would have felt void, I would have tethered them all, so why… why…”
Mikris wasn’t sure exactly what she meant, but Aurora was clearly distraught about it. She touched her arm again. “Aurora? You… you need… comfort?” she asked.
Aurora looked at her in confusion. Mikris slowly held out her arms with a nervous chirp.
Aurora’s face was unbearable. She hissed static again and leaned in close.
She felt warmer than ever.
Mikris embraced her this time, every arm wrapping around the Guardian. Aurora trembled a little, pressing her face into Mikris’ scarf.
“I’m sorry,” Aurora mumbled into her scarf. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
“Is okay. Am here,” Mikris said. She felt a purr start to rumble in her chest, and hoped it might help calm her.
Aurora was quiet for a second before she drew back a little bit. “What… what is…”
Mikris flushed cold and heard herself purr louder when Aurora set a hand against her chest.
“Are you purring?” Aurora asked, confused, but almost with wonder.
“Is that word?” Mikris asked, her voice a little rougher, gentler, with her purr. “Help comfort?”
“Oh,” Aurora said. “I didn’t know you could purr.”
Mikris nodded with a small chitter.
“It’s… it’s nice,” Aurora whispered.
Mikris stood still as Aurora kept her hand on her chest. She tried to think about something else but the warmth of her strange fingers, the soft hum of the machinery in her chest, the intricate little movements of her face--
She was not doing a very good job.
She really hadn’t been able to think about anything else but Aurora since they’d met.
Oh, no, she thought.
Aurora blinked and looked up. “Oh. Um. Sorry,” she said, pulling her hand back.
Mikris ducked her head. “No, sorry,” she said instead, realizing her purr had gone silent. “Just… am think.”
“What about?”
Mikris shrugged.
“I’m still not… making you feel uncomfortable?”
Mikris shook her head. “If make you happy, make me happy too. Am okay.”
“But if you… if I… I don’t want to… to…” Aurora frowned. “I’m…”
“Guardian,” Saffron’s voice said.
Aurora angled her head a little. She was quiet. Could her Ghost speak to her silently? Mikris waited, but jumped when Aurora’s eyes widened and she straightened suddenly.
Aurora looked up at Mikris.
Mikris stayed very still as Aurora reached up both hands. Nimble fingers brushed her hood. She stared at Mikris, but she waited, hardly breathing.
Aurora pushed back Mikris’ hood and carefully freed her helmet.
Mikris blinked all her eyes at the Guardian and gasped in a little, seeing her with unfiltered vision for the first time, in light that wasn’t the rain-dulled atmosphere of Titan.
“Can I be honest with you?” Aurora said softly.
Mikris nodded, still too stunned to speak.
“Sometimes humans do all that stuff ‘cause of… feelings, too.”
Mikris stared, Ether sluggish as her brain caught up. And then it quickened, chilling her with a flush, and she couldn’t stop the confused, tiny chirp.
Aurora laughed a little nervously. “And I don’t want to ruin our friendship, either. We can still be friends! But… um… I don’t know too much about how it works, exactly, for Eliksni.”
She was flustered. The Guardian, fidgeting, eyes flicking everywhere, lights bright--the exo’s version of a flush?
“And I’m not sure if it’s like… not allowed, or anything, um, or if that’s like, if it’s weird?” Aurora shifted her weight, picking at her cloak. “And I know we haven’t known each other that long yet, either.”
Mikris blinked and angled her head. “Aurora?” she asked. “What you… what are you say? Saying?”
She couldn’t possibly be saying what Mikris thought she was saying. Was she?
Aurora slowly reached out her hand again to place it, fingers splayed, on Mikris’ chest. She looked up at her, just for a moment. Her jaw flickered teal with unspoken words lost in indecision. She withdrew her hand, but only to hold it palm-up. | dd3129f6e0044a11bbedc2f8ce8db7ba | ['562596fbfa144ff1975c3c5ec7492cec'] | He reached for the cloth Drifter wore wrapped around his head and slid a claw under it, tugging it up and off his head. Drifter’s shoulders twitched as his claws caught on his hair a little.
“Easy,” Drifter muttered. “We’re just gettin’ started.”
“It’s a little slow going.”
“I promised an hour. Ain’t any fun without a little foreplay, Spider. Thought you knew this.” Drifter nudged his knee forward and scraped his blunt nails against the more sensitive flesh between the plates on his side--when had he unlatched his armor enough to do that? “I’ve got plenty of time. We can drag this out.”
Spider felt a rumble in his chest that coiled through his torso. “Well, I suppose I can admit, that does sound… quite agreeable.”
“Good,” Drifter said, voice low, as close to a growl as humans could manage, and Spider’s breath rasped in a little sharper.
Drifter gave a more insistent bite to Spider’s throat, earning light pricks into his sides and a hiss, before sitting back. He withdrew both hands and ignored Spider’s offended glare. The glare quickly vanished when Drifter tugged off his coat with an almost lazy, fluid motion, holding it to nearly brush the floor for a moment before it dematerialized in transmat.
Spider could admit another thing--he liked this view. The Drifter, straddling him with strong legs, his shirt hiked up by Spider’s roving claws, revealing pale, scarred flesh over centuries-earned lean muscle, his hair tousled and his eyes dark, that sly grin spreading on his face again.
Drifter knew it, too.
Drifter arched his spine into Spider’s hungry touch, tightening his thighs around Spider’s to keep himself balanced, before leaning forward to finish his almost too patient work on Spider’s armor. Spider helped him with one hand, his lower pair refusing to release their hold on Drifter’s waist. He relished the little twitches of the muscle of his stomach in time with the light grazing of his claws above his hip bones and against his ribs.
His cuirass finally removed, Spider moved it aside to promptly forget it as Drifter’s hands came down, followed immediately by teeth and a flat, hot tongue. Spider couldn’t stop the small shudder through him from Drifter’s experienced touch. Drifter, for his part, didn’t mention the way Spider’s business leader persona was starting to crumble away, the way it always did with this arrogant, intelligent, unpredictable Lightbearer.
After all, Drifter wasn’t much different.
He was nearly doubled over, lavishing the spaces between Spider’s natural armor plates with attention from his mouth and his fingers, making up for the softness of his human body with heat and enthusiasm and persistence. Spider felt it under his plating, building in his gut, Ether and blood coursing quicker.
Touches growing hungrier, Spider tapped Drifter twice with a claw, making him sit up with a light gasp. Without a word, Spider tugged at his shirt, and Drifter grunted, moving to help him. Spider didn’t give him the chance to transmat it, dropping it beside his own armor, all four eyes devouring him.
Drifter shivered when Spider lazily ran his fingers over his chest. “Thought I was supposed to be the one giving you all the attention today,” he said, even as he leaned into the touch.
“Are you complaining?” Spider purred, his fingers brushing the narrow scarring around his nipple.
“I can't say I am, no.” Drifter allowed the attention for a few seconds more. Spider clicked softly at the way his tough scars and coarse hair felt under his fingers, the way Drifter's fingers tightened and his jaw twitched and his throat bobbed with a dry swallow.
Spider huffed when Drifter nudged his hand away and leaned in again. Drifter grinned. “Touchy today?” he asked.
Spider bared his teeth and hissed as Drifter drew a nail along the edge of Spider's armor low on his torso. He could feel his plates shifting, a damp pressure growing underneath them. He refused to completely remove his hands from the Drifter’s skin, but his touches were lighter, letting Drifter have a little more focus.
He felt Drifter shift, his broad shoulders tensing under Spider’s hands as he leaned down again. One hand braced against Spider’s shoulder as the other continued to tease the plates on Spider’s abdomen. His teeth--Spider was ever so grateful for their bluntness--nipped at the ones on his chest, warm, wet breath washing over the sensitive spiracles between them. Spider tightened his claws and slotted his teeth together.
Drifter’s hips moved, just a little, just enough. A slow grin grew on Spider’s face as he raised up his leg a little to meet the Lightbearer’s languid little thrusts.
Drifter stuttered for just a moment, and Spider felt a little thrill of victory.
Emboldened by Drifter’s lapse, Spider moved an upper hand to his hair and lowered another to grip Drifter’s thigh and tug him closer with a soft, hungry growl.
Drifter cursed with a sharper thrust into Spider’s leg. “Ah, shit--hey, hey, c’mon.”
Spider chuckled, digging his claws a bit into Drifter’s thigh. He let two eyes close to focus on the feeling of him hardening against him. His plates were more insistent in their parting.
He should have expected the same bold behavior by now. Still, Drifter’s fingers seeking the partition of his pelvic plate brought a sharp hiss from his teeth. Spider’s shoulders twitched, a small arch to his back, as the Drifter pressed his fingers against him and urged his plates apart.
“So impatient,” Drifter murmured. “We’ll play it your way, then, for now.”
Spider could only growl as Drifter’s fingers met slick, sensitive flesh, jolting heat through Spider’s gut. He found himself wishing his throne was larger, caught between wanting to open his legs more and still enjoying Drifter’s lazy thrusts against him. Drifter was creative, though, and surprisingly flexible for his broad shoulders and square frame. Almost a combination of Hunter and Titan-- |
52ffba2b7415460db85f92c9416818b2 | ['562776ea40b748e8bfbad7f2d4db524e'] | It was only the clattering of Petunia setting the table and minutes later the sudden shrieking of his own son waking up that shook him from his angry musing to notice that the Potter brat, who he had honestly assumed to be asleep for the entire duration of his and Petunia’s conversation was now staring at him as he sat in the cardboard box, the boy's eyes an eerie, hard set shade of green. Feeling a sudden shiver go down his neck, Vernon got up and made his way onto his dining chair.
“We don’t have that much of a choice, Vernon,” Petunia advised quietly as she spoon fed Dudley the mashed banana and monitored the way he attempted to hold his cup up. “They always get what they want, and if they want to have him stay in this house, we can accommodate that. I can clear out that cupboard underneath the stair and he will be plenty far enough away from our Dinky Duddydums so he won’t contaminate him with his freakishness. All we would have to do is put locks on the door so he can’t get out unless we let him. And just imagine, in a couple of years we can put him to work cleaning and cooking, after all, he would have to earn his keep.”
“What about this warding? What does it do? Wouldn’t they be able to tell if we do anything to the boy?” Vernon wondered aloud.
Petunia snorted lightly, “If anything that’s the only reason why I’m willing to accept him. It’s supposedly a type of protection that they can place on the house to keep us safe. My mother and Father declined this same type of protection right before they died, although there's most certainly did not come with a freak attached.”
Her face pinched tightly and she ran a bony hand through her blonde hair, “ Although I loathe to admit it Vernon, the freak shouldn’t be as much trouble to keep as it would be to get rid of him. Those people know things, and since they’ve dumped him on us we will just have to make the best of it.”
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Vernon Dursley would be the first person to renounce his nephew, even before Petunia. After all Dursley’s were well mannered, well bred, stocky men and women who most certainly did not involve themselves with fantasy and definitely not anything _ abnormal. _ And Vernon Dursley’s nephew Harry Potter most certainly was _ abnormal. _
From the very moment Harry Potter had set foot in Privet Drive Number four, there had been something slightly… peculiar about the boy. For one, though Petunia probably should have noticed it first, Vernon noticed by the time the boy was five years old he had never smiled. Even as a baby, the Potter child had simply stared at nothing, his eyes burning the air like molten lava. Another, perhaps the more peculiar thing was that the boy never spoke. The Dursley’s were perhaps more content with the fact that the boy never spoke than they were concerned. As far as they cared, it was perfectly normal behavior for a freak.
But five years old was when Vernon started noticing the boy. Started noticing the darkness to his eyes, the smirk that graced his upturned mouth, the lips that never smiled. He noticed the litheness of the boy, how tiny he was compared to his own girth, bloody hell compared to his own son’s girth. He noticed the small hands and the demure stature.
The first time he thought about the boy as he stroked his own length, he convinced himself it was an accident. The second time he was positive it was just a mistake, but by the fourth or fifth time he began to slowly try to rationalize his thoughts.
He knew that wanking to the most vulgar thoughts of the boy was probably wrong, even if the boy was a freak, but Vernon had never been one for self-restraint, and so his mind wandered to all the filthy things he could make the boy do. Things that normal people like Petunia would never do. Things he would never think of asking Petunia to do.
After all, it wasn’t like the boy was normal. It wasn’t like he was human. He was just a freak. Vernon could do whatever he wanted after all, he took care of the brat didn’t he? Fed him. Clothed him. Gave him room and board. Petunia’s words from four years ago haunted his sleep every night. After all, the boy owed him, owed them for everything.
Didn't he?
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
_ His graying hair was hanging down in his face and he had the most terrible stitch in his side. is entire body pulsed with pain and anguish but still he ran on. The only alternative was death. Painful, encompassing, complete death. The muggles catcalled after him, braying loudly. Suddenly, an explosive noise erupted and Harry fell to his face, gasping in pain his hands instinctively fumbling for the bullet wound. He began chanting quickly, his magic surging to close the hole faster, but he already knew it was too late. _
_ Just as the skin and sinew knitted together enough for him to raise himself up from the cold hard ground, the team of Hunters emerged into the clearing. Muggles. Hunters. Whatever one called them they both meant the same thing for magicals. Death. _
_
_ _ Harry Potter was screaming and begging for several hours before he died. _ | aa61582521fa48cdb6fd3722b948627f | ['562776ea40b748e8bfbad7f2d4db524e'] | The other boy leaned out from behind his twin, drawing Harry’s attention. “Maybe we figure out how he made his way through almost all of our wards, and then we string him up in the great hall for trying to make off with things that aren’t his?
“A wonderful idea, Forge, a wonderful idea. So, Mr. Thief, how did you make it through our proximity wards and the prank spells? There should have been enough there to leave a firstie confunded, hog tied and displayed for our viewing pleasure.”
Harry snorted. “I suppose you didn’t think any upperclassmen would be riffling through those trunks? Everyone fifth year and above would know that most prank spells can be contained and effectively avoided by triggering them with an object, and for your information, while I may have noticed the proximity ward on the door, I missed the one on your trunk. And my name is Harry for that matter.”
“Well obviously you aren’t an upperclassman, so how did you figure that out?”
“Like I’m going anywhere near any trunk owned by the infamous Weasley Twins without throwing every object I could find at it.” Harry lied through his teeth. “Besides that, I wasn’t stealing. You just happened to have something that belonged to me.” He pulled the map from his back pocket. “This used to belong to my dad.”
The twins peered down at the parchment and glanced at each other before nodding. “Prove it.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” He said it to the twins rather than to the map, as he was unwilling to activate the thing in front of the twins. “Look, I saw you two with it out a couple days ago and I recognised it. I don’t really have anything left from my parents, and I just wanted it you know. I’d be willing to share it, if you want.”
The twin’s expressions melted slightly and their obvious antagonism diminished. “You said it belonged to your parents?”
“Yeah my dad and his friends made it when they were in school here. He was Prongs.”
The twins glares softened slightly and they both seemed to come to the same conclusion before grinning widely at him.“That’s absolutely wicked. I don’t think we would mind borrowing it when we need it for pranks. And you should keep it if it reminds you of your dad.”
“Thanks.”
Despite that confrontation, and the fact that Harry was reasonably satisfied with the results of their conversation, he still cursed his idiocy. How could he have missed one of the proximity wards? The twins were only third year students, and no matter how advanced they were he should have caught everything they threw at him. How in the world had he missed that ward?
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> *Aquila is a constellation in the northern sky. Its name is Latin for 'eagle' and it represents the bird who carried Zeus/Jupiter's thunderbolts in Greco-Roman mythology. If you want to know more look it up on wikipedia. I thought it fitting for a Black to name her personal bird after her family tradition.
>
> *I hate that there was all that confusion over who Harry’s grandparents were. For my sake and the sake of my story Fleamont Potter and Euphemia Potter do not exist. Charlus and Dorea Potter were Harry’s grandparents. It also gives him a clean connection to a number of pure blooded families through the Blacks since we have an official Black family tree. |
44f47070ad6e452d9724580fd6082d93 | ['562bc7a7b85d4423978c634f17703278'] |
1. Prologue
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> EDIT 1/26/19: Don't mind me I just re-edited the first chapter and am working on everything again. This isn't abandoned I swear I just need to rework it.
>
> Catch you on the flip side, my dudes.
Two small monsters sit under a tree. One a skeleton, the other a creature with eight arms, a beak, and a body that can twist and contort much like his prehensile tail.
“Sans?” Asked the beaked creature.
The skeleton turns. “Yeah Slav?”
“When we grow up, let’s go on a date!”
Sans smiles. “Yeah! When we grow up, we’ll be the cutest couple in the world!”
“Promise in this and all realities?”
“Promise in all realities.” A bony pinky links with one of many flesh ones, and the deal is sealed.
* * *
Everything is burning. The humans have come to destroy them.
“Slav!” Sans is screaming for his friend, running alongside his father, W.D. Gaster, who is clutching his baby brother Papyrus.
“Slav!” He screams again.
“Sans!” A voice echoes, and he can see Slav and his mother standing by a weird contraption. It’s the thing their parents have been working on since war was first declared.
“Hurry!” Slav is held in his mother’s many arms, and they’re inside the main chamber of the machine, the door flung wide open. His glasses are slipping off his face. The humans are closing in on the machine, and Gaster knows his family won’t make it in time.
“Sonja, go! We won’t make it!”
“What about you and the boys?!” she questions, furtively glancing between the skeletons and the humans.
“We’ll figure something out, now go!”
The pair tearfully gather their children, both screaming no, this can’t be happening they can’t leave each other. The glasses fall to the ground, and the door slams shut. Gaster runs the other way, away from the humans. The machine rumbles before shooting into the sky. Slav is gone.
When they return later, all that is left are a pair of glasses. Slav’s glasses.
They’ve lost the war, and while the three are alive, they’re forced underground with the rest of the monsters.
2. Chapter 2
With a sigh, Sans plops himself down on the windowsill. It's been a while since the kid has freed the monsters, long enough for them to have their rights and even decrease the segregation between the two species. Yet Sans can't help but feel that something is wrong... Something is missing.
His pinprick gaze drifts across the room and lands on his telescope that he brought from the Underground. There wasn't a real reason to have it, as he couldn't see the stars underground. The closest was the bioluminescent buds that grew among the algae high above on the roofs of the caverns. Yet every night we would pull out his telescope, and stare at them for hours. Sitting there pretending that they were real stars. That he was still out there.
His moods sombers. That's right. Today marks twenty years since they were first forced underground. Thirty years since Slav was taken from him. Twenty years since he first acquired the glasses he holds in his left pocket. Hand always encompassing them and never letting go (except to occasionally wear them on really bad days, when thoughts from every timeline plague him and he misses Slav so much because _ he would love the proof of the alternate realities _ ). He takes them out of his pocket, his left one, and examines them. Though old and slightly worn from carrying them all these years, he's sure to never leave a scratch on the lenses or to allow them to become dirty. He's afraid that if they break or he lets go, then he lets go of Slav.
He clutches it closer for one more heartbreaking moment, then places it back in the safety of his pocket. He knows it's foolish, but he keeps hoping that Slav is still alive. If humans can survive space, with their fragile bodies and SOULs, why can't a monster?
He ponders this for a long moment, when movement from outside the window catches his eye. There's something descending from the clouds. Is that... a ship?
It descends from the clouds, and immediately there is a broadcast He stares at the creature, covered in lavender fur, and with one synthetic eye. He doesn't register anything beyond the fact that he is the one on the ship. That he's an alien. That the universe can truly support life. That Slav may still be alive.
That's when the attack starts.
_ Thank goodness for the Underground. _
He never thought that he would think those words, yet here he is. When the aliens, now confirmed as the Galra that Samuel Holt spoke about before the monsters breached the surface, attacked, it was instant chaos. Buildings were rapidly being destroyed and everything was burning just like all those years ago. Sans didn't delve into the trauma that surely formed, instead he raced to find his friends and family and make sure they're safe. Papyrus, Toriel, Undyne, Alphys, Grillby, Asgore, _ Frisk _ . So many people to find, to keep safe. He can't lose anyone else.
Thankfully, they all had the same idea, and they find each other and head to Mount Eskel. Humans and monsters alike raced towards the entrance, to reach the place where the Galra could not.
Everyone in their little group was accounted for, including most of Frisk's family (one of their aunts works at the Garrison, so there wasn't any time to grab her). Everyone was mostly okay with some scrapes and bruises and _ of course _ Undyne sprained her arm trying to protect as many people and monsters alike, and getting hit with building debris. With everyone accounted for, they began to wait out the Galra. Everyone crossed their fingers (or claws or tentacles or whatever appendages they had) and hoped that the Galra would not reach them. They sent out scouts to make sure that every entrance or exit was sealed, and the underground tunnels around made by humans for their hover trains were empty. Sans was one of these scouts. He was sent to the tunnels, and he heard movement echoing from one of the platforms. He quietly began to approach, and then blaster fire could be heard. There are humans fighting against a Galra patrol and from the looks of it, the sentries are pushing them back. He moves closer, eyes widening as more sentries begin to converge on a woman as four young adults ( _ teenagers _ he thinks to himself in horror) flee into a hover train. His eyes widen as he recognizes said woman, being Veronica, Frisks’ aunt. The train begins to pull away, and his horror mounts as she yells for the teens to leave without her.
He wastes no time launching himself towards her, recognizing the tell-tale signs of blaster overload, even within the mounted station she’s using, and reaches out to wrap magic around her SOUL in order to protect her life. She gasps, her head whipping towards him before the blaster explodes. He uses his levitation to yank her towards him, and takes her into his arms and runs as the entire chamber begins collapsing.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sorry for the short chapter and really long wait lol. I'm working on this slowly, I promise. It's been a little difficult for me lately because I'm in two clubs, just finished a play, and doing track all at the same time. Slowly but surely I'll be working on this, and getting all my plot notes down. Comments and ideas of where to take this would be appreciated??? Maybe I'll take this down and repost it all as a one shot for Slans bc that's what this is all about lol. See y'all soon!
**Author's Note:**
> Hi yes this is a crack ship but I've grown strangely invested in it? Ever since a friend of mine introduced me to it?? Cross posted from tumblr where I co admin with said friend (Nerdiest Fan Nerd) though it's more of a side thing nowadays. But I am still the author regardless! Also I haven't actually posted an official fan fiction in like three and a half years, so my skills are a little rusty shhh. And Ao3 is weird and fancy I feel old... (was a fanfiction.net kiddo). Anyways, I'd love to know what you think haha! | 8822e362effb42149de8f4e5f50a9f53 | ['562bc7a7b85d4423978c634f17703278'] | “Well, yeah. I mean, I always thought you just never knew what your hair looked like, being a vampire and all, but now I know you had no excuse.”
He points an accusing finger at Keith, but the twinkle in his eye suggests that this is all in good fun. Keith scowls. He had forgotten about mirrors. And cameras. Neither of which he was fond of in the first place, but it’s still going to be a nuisance.
“Relax, I’m joking.” Lance pats his back encouragingly. “Besides, the reason why vampires can’t see their reflections is because the mirrors were backed with silver. But otherwise you’re good. Although, my mirror isn’t going to be much help to you. It’s really old and uses silver in the back.”
“That… makes sense. It doesn’t explain why I can’t see my reflection in my phone screen though!”
“Let me see it.”
Keith pulls his phone from his pocket and hands it to Lance.
“Well there’s your problem,” he announces. “It’s filthy and won’t reflect anything!” There’s dust, some dried blood, and a crack along the screen, most likely happening when the vampire from last night tackled Keith to the ground to feast upon him. Lance produces a rag and wipes at the glass, before handing it back to Keith.
“There’s such a small amount of silver made in phones, it wouldn’t affect you enough to get rid of your reflection. You may have a little blurring around the edges, but that’s the gist of it.”
Keith looks down to where his reflection should be in the phone, and finds that Lance was right. He does indeed still have a reflection, though it is a little blurred.
“What did I tell you? You’re fine! Now come on, let’s get you freshened up. You still have some stuff on your neck.”
He drags Keith out of the living room and down the hall to the bathroom, and the Keith finds himself stifling a yawn.
“Definitely time for bed.”
Lance grabs a brush and a hair tie from the assortment of products on the counter. “Here. Try tamin that mullet of yours for a night, huh?”
Keith simply nods his head and starts going through the motions of brushing his hair, avoiding looking at the mirror. He knows that he won’t see his reflection, as Lance warned him beforehand, and isn’t sure he’s ready to face that yet. As he finished with his hair, he ties it back with the hair tie, and raises his gaze to Lance.
“What it on your face?”
There’s some weird goo covering his face, and Keith is convinced it must be some sort of witchy potion.
Lance hardly gives him a sideways glance. “It’s called a face mask. Have to keep myself looking great for the ladies!” He shoots Keith a pair of finger guns and a smirk. “Plus, it keeps my skin smooth, healthy and young. You can try some if you want.”
He scoops a glob out of the small container in his hands and stretches it towards Keith’s face. He scowls and bares his teeth.
“ _ No thank you _ .” He hisses, causing Lance to shrug.
“Your loss, Mullet.”
He wipes the last of the mixture on his hands onto his face, before washing his hands and once again turning to the raven haired male.
“You may have just gotten the fangs, but you still need to take care of them.”
Lance snaps his fingers, and suddenly there’s an extra toothbrush sitting innocently on the counter.
He thrusts the toothbrush into Keith’s hands, before making a gesture with his hands, and suddenly there’s toothpaste on both brushes, and Lance’s is floating next to his face. Keith waitches as it magically begins to brush Lance’s teeth before finally turning his gaze to the mirror. It’s weird, knowing you’re there but not seeing anything. He can see Lance beside him, and his shirt, his toothbrush, hell even the little hair tie seemingly floating in the back, but he can’t see himself. He opts for closing his eyes and just letting muscle memory take over. It’s still too new and fresh and _ weird _ for his tastes.
Finally, they’re done, and Lance leads Keith back to the living room, hands him some bedding, and bids him goodnight. Spoiler alert: Keith doesn’t have a good night. Nor does he really sleep. More like his brain whirls faster and faster in confusion until his groans and forces his mind to shut off. Only then is he able to fall into an uneasy slumber.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Boom. Another one. Also I think this chapter like doubles the length of the stories AND I put in the one little post thing of them brushing their teeth and stuff even though there isn't any dialogue. And the ellipses are the exact amount as in the comic. I counted. Every. Ellipse. For your information, that very long string of them is ten. But that's all that @lavenderdreamer13 has posted for right now (except for an indulgent thing that doesn't fit into the story at this point) so I dunno what will happen next. But have a long chapter for now. |
1fa104c0d5d54b3492d8479c6d733787 | ['5639062b3e74477789287670760046eb'] |
you could be the one for me
"Do you want LeBlanc, Sanghyeok?" Coach Kkoma asked, waiting for his input.
"We can just give it away so it will be easier for ---" Sanghyeok's statement is interrupted by a loud 'what the fuck' from Seongung and everyone's eyes directed to him.He slightly felt uncomfortable with the attention he's getting.
"What?" he asked, confusion evident in his voice. Junsik pointed his head. Specifically,his eyes. "Your eyes.. they're now color yellow," hearing the statement is not surprisingly, at all. He rolled his eyes and sighed in irritation. Really, his soulmate could have chosen a better color because dammit this color doesn't suit him, he concluded as he looked at his reflection on the mirror. Sanghyeok wants to wring the life out of his soulmate. This is the second time in this year. They're not even half way through the year and his bored (as fuck) soulmate decided to experiment with his hair. Is his soulmate even aware of the soulmate link — whenever your soulmate dyes their hair,your eyes would change into that color.
He is now sitting on his chair, at the booth with his teammates, mind flying somewhere else despite of the banning phase which is currently ongoing. His soulmate would be bald before he even gets the chance to meet the dummy personally.
It is by the end of Summer Split when he almost had a heart attack. He just rinsed his face when he noticed something weird with his eyes. He inched his face closer to the mirror and there it was. Gray slowly eats up what used to be the yellow colored iris of his. The transition is amazing to witness, but scary if it happens when you least expect it.He can't help the curling of his lips upward because his soulmate finally got the color that suits Sanghyeok perfectly.
To be honest, Sanghyeok is now used to the ever changing color of his eyes so he doesn't get the shocked faces of his teammates when he shows up to the gaming house.Junsik and Sunggung's faces are too close to his — peering over his beautiful eyes(Sungu complimented which made him a little bit happy on the inside)
"What if your soulmate is a kpop idol?" Hoseong proposed and he heard hums of agreement on the background. Never once did he entertain that thought. Junggyunlaughed, "Sanghyeok is so lucky to have an idol as a soulmate."
"He's really lucky. Imagine, an almost perfect idol with plain old Lee Sanghyeok,"Jaewan mischievously remarked and Sanghyeok smacked him all at once.
"Truth hurts?" Junsik smirked at him and it is at times like this that Sanghyeok wants his teammates to go to hell or play badly and get flamed by the harsh lol community. He scratched the latter because he will be affected as well if they did perform poorly.
"Really, Junsik? YOU? You're teasing me when..." Sanghyeok casted a glance at Jaewan and he smiled cheekily to Junsik as he eyed Junsik's crimson orbs. Jaewan seem to have caught with the conversation and threw his sock at Sanghyeok's direction which he skillfully dodged. He cackled which promptly infected the occupants of the gaminghouse.
"Okay, since I'm a good friend unlike you hyungs, I searched up the idols who dyed their hair silver andddd..." Sungu trailed off, wanting to create suspense.
"There's Chanyeol from EXO, Jeonghan, Taeyeon, CL and Hyeri."
The aforementioned are big personalities in South Korea and he thinks it is most unlikely that one of them is his soulmate. He voiced out his objection.
"Why are you so against the idea of having an idol as your soulmate? You act as if it is a bad thing," Sungu asked the question he's been itching to ask. This is not the first time they talked about the possibility of his soulmate being a kpop idol and every time his hyung just shuts down the idea.
"I have a feeling that my soulmate's not an idol. Also, why are you guys so adamant about this idea? My soulmate could be a normal person."
"A normal person who habitually dyes their hair? Are you even for real, Sanghyeok?Only a kpop idol would dye their hair repeatedly in just a year."
"Could be a normal person. Hmm. A normal person with a weird habit."
"A weirdo would be a perfect fit for you. Birds of the same feather, flock together."
Junsik laughed his ass off. Despite his statement's only purpose is to aggravate Sanghyeok, Sanghyeok couldn't help but agree on his statement. The both of them could get weird together.
He'd be lying if he said he's not interested in finding his soulmate. The general public seem to see him as someone who is only interested in LoL. They are so wrong. He's a young man. Of course, he's interested in relationships. He wants to be in a relationship.He wants to fall in love. He wants to get to taste the bittersweet love everyone is obsessed with. He wonders when the right time is for him to meet his soulmate. He is genuinely excited to meet his soulmate so they better hurry the fuck up.
Their flight to America is in two days and the lck players (who will compete at Worlds)decided to have a night out (suggested by Junsik and planned out by Bumhyeon)
They're nearing the room they reserved and Sanghyeok could hear the happy chattering and obnoxious singing voices. He sweatdropped and immediately thought of the Tigers.They're the only ones capable of producing such loud sounds without annoying the ones who hear them. | 63bea6c302f94dcbad6ad5ca86e19b79 | ['5639062b3e74477789287670760046eb'] | And I wonder if I ever cross your mind. For me it happens all the time.
**Author's Note:**
> diz the product of my stress school hates me and im trying to make it love me back anyways this is unbeta-ed so expect mistakes ahh i hope you enjoy this T^T this is also my first time really Im more of a reader so pls slow down with the criticism hahahahhaha
~~~
"You know... you really don't have to buy me gifts almost every week," Wangho trailed off as he looked over the gifts presented before him. It's not like he doesn't appreciate it; it's just he doesn't want Sanghyeok to spend so much money on him when he could just spend on it more important things.
"I want to," Sanghyeok stated
"You DON'T have to," interjected Wangho. Sanghyeok sighed and held Wangho's hand.
"I want to because you deserve them."
"Thanks but really I don't want you to give me gifts from now on," caused Sanghyeok to raise his eyebrow. Wangho sighed. His boyfriend doesn't get it. Guess this will be an argument and Wangho doesn't really want that to happen.
"Hey, you can spend the money on important things. There's no occasion so I don't know why you're giving me gifts," Wangho calmly explained. Sanghyeok frowned, "And you're not important?"
Wangho wanted to roll his eyes so bad but he restrained himself. Sanghyeok's sweet. He likes it but he doesn't like this. How could he not see the importance of money? These stuffed toys will be put in a shelf and serve as displays or maybe something Wangho could cuddle at night but he doesn't need tons of them. Really, he appreciates his beloved's efforts but this is the time to teach Sanghyeok how to spend his money wisely.
"I am but --" Wangho was cut off
"That's the end of it. I fail to see the issue here. It's my money therefore I can spend it however I want," Sanghyeok declared with finality in his voice. Wangho wants to punch something.
"I know. Im just concerned, you know. You should just save your money for other things. Really, Im fine with you by my side. I don't need these things. You don't need to give me these materials to prove your love to me. I'm not materialistic," Wangho softly said to not further upset his significant other. Sanghyeok looked so dejected. Wangho knows Sanghyeok's intention is to make him happy. A simple smile from him would make him feel as if he's the luckiest in the world. Sanghyeok stayed silent for a while. Wangho observed Sanghyeok. Waiting for signs. Sign to how he should react or approach his boyfriend.
Wangho is taken aback when he saw a smirk forming on his boyfriend's face.
"I can see where you're coming from," he proudly said. Wangho is internally celebrating. Finally!
"I really should save money for important things like..."
"Like?"
"Our marriage"
Wangho sputtered a "W-what" stupidly. Cheeks flushed and tongue-tied. Wangho stayed rooted in his place. Sanghyeok chuckled and kissed his stupefied boyfriend's forehead. |
4b2c94c64d3f4dd79532ec65b2a80174 | ['5668745486784f47a40991429da7b74c'] | The small Korean restaurant in Ginza they chose to stop at for Bakugou’s promised beef tripe hot pot had an even smaller restroom, apparently.
Kaminari turns on the warm tap and watches the water run between his fingers. Even simple motions like washing his hands sometimes messes with his electrical output, but for the first time in a while he’s okay with the break. Since he had finished eating quickly, he had been stuck charging three phones, which he could either do by putting the ends of a charger in his mouth, or putting the actual phone in his mouth. Both Mina and Sero had come prepared with their chargers and charming smiles, but Bakugou just handed him his. Typical, geez. The cute lady who runs the shop had been throwing him bewildered looks over the counter for a while as he sucked on a phone. Real slick.
Kirishima had looked like he wanted to say something too, but that man is far too considerate and thoughtful. His phone had probably been low too, since Kaminari had been texting him all day in class today and he didn’t even have time to charge his phone in the dorms before he’d been dragged off to the nearest train station so they could shop at Ginza.
The door to the bathroom squeaks open and a familiar red head comes through it.
“O-Oh!” He says.
“Did you forget I was in here or something?” Kaminari chuckles with a raised eyebrow.
“Almost,” Kirishima replies. They make eye contact while Kaminari finally turns the tap off, now officially done thinking. Kirishima has the most amazing eyes… they’re so red and earthy, like a red rock.
Pretty…
“Kaminari…” Kirishima sighs, not in a heavy way but perhaps more so in a wistful way. Carefully, he strides towards the blond and brings his hand up next to him, but he looks afraid to touch him.
In his hand is his phone. Instinctively, he opens his mouth wide and Kirishima slides the black device in between his lips. Kaminari licks all around it and over the redhead’s fingers, who blushes furiously.
“Kaminari,” he whines again.
Kaminari takes the phone out of his mouth, steps closer and slides it into the other’s back pocket. He hesitates for almost a moment, but then connects their lips as sweetly as he can in a small Korean restaurant’s bathroom.
They move well against each other, warm mouths pressing and biting and licking. Kirishima mewls in pleasure as Kaminari licks his lips and lets his tongue explore the caverns of his mouth.
“Fuck,” Kaminari moans as Kirishima pushes him against the probably unhygienic wall. His back hits it in an almost aggressive manner, but it’s kind of sexy.
The redhead breathes heavily, as the string of saliva between them breaks. “Ah, you don’t know how long I wanted to do that for… I really like you.”
“Ei-ji-rou,” he sings pleasurably, licking his lips again while wrapping his legs around Kirishima’s waist. “I really like you too. Do it again, please~”
“O-Of course, Denki.”
“Are you guys fucking in there?!”
“Sometimes I forget Bakugou has no filter.”
**Author's Note:**
> if you read to the end thank you so much!! please leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed; id love to know what you thought about it since I always want to improve my writing! have a nice day and April Fool's !!! <3
>
> wanna scream with me on Tumblr? my main is @maysprite! | 00ae71a6f90642538d64bbcaa6ce894b | ['5668745486784f47a40991429da7b74c'] |
fleeting thoughts that sunlight brings
**Author's Note:**
> Although it turned out a little bit different than I wanted, this is my secret santa fic for @wheniseelevimyheartgoesdokidoki on Tumblr! And thank you @haikyuusecretsanta for hosting this wonderful event, I had tons of fun writing it! Like I mentioned before, it came out a little different than I expected, but I still hope you enjoy it! Have some very happy holidays :D
A thousand glittering streaks of morning sun nestle themselves through the cracks of Oikawa Tooru’s bedroom window. They warm the messy bed, where two teens have their legs tangled togethers, bedsheets long gone as it had been far too hot. The sunshine that filters through always hits Iwaizumi’s face just right, accentuating the beautifully dark colour of his skin and bringing forward those emerald green eyes Oikawa loves so much.
“Your hair looks even worse when you first wake up, Iwa-chan!” says Oikawa lightly, a small but genuine smile forming on his face.
Iwaizumi’s hair has been messy since the day Oikawa had first met him - but now, with his hair strewn across the pillow, he just looks stunning. Not that Oikawa would mention that, of course. Keeping up his appearances is like a job!
“I could say the same to you, Trashkawa,” Iwaizumi grumbles, yet laughs despite himself. Its a rich sound, the kind of laugh that comes from deep within and echoes throughout the room. He presses a warm knuckle to Oikawa’s pale forehead, watching his hair glow every colour of the rainbow as the sun rises.
They stay in their positions, both breathing quietly as they listen to the sounds of the world coming to life. As the clock ticks and signals 5 o’clock, a piano begins to play softly. Sugawara Koushi; a rival setter, Oikawa’s neighbour, and a brilliant pianist.
“Geez, he’s pissing me off,” Oikawa huffs, pushing away from Iwaizumi with a pout. He rolls out of bed with a slight thump, before gathering the sheets that had been previously thrown on the floor and piling them onto the bed.
The warmth fades without Oikawa’s (annoying) presence, but Iwaizumi stays in the bed as exhaustion wins out. He has almost fallen asleep once more by the time Oikawa finishes using the washroom, and returns looking extremely good as usual.
His chocolate brown hair falling into perfect waves swept outwards; his dark eyes lined with long and thin eyelashes; a porcelain face handcrafted by the gods with a small nose and delicate mouth. It is no surprise Oikawa Tooru is everyone’s dream boy. Looking through his sleepy eyelids, he really, really can’t believe a man so beautiful is his.
It’s hard to imagine - he forgets himself, at times. For years, since they day they met, they acted the same. Teased, pushed, pulled. Lived, laughed, loved. It’s almost like they’d been in love their whole life without even knowing it.
“Iwa-chan, get up already! The captain can’t be late for a practice he scheduled!” His obnoxious voice pulls Iwaizumi out of his reverie.
“Why would you schedule practices at 6 in the morning on a Saturday, anyway?” Finally slipping out of bed, Iwaizumi heads to the drawer he keeps extra clothes in for when he stays over. “Today was supposed to be our rest day, yeah? It’s not like we’re going to Nationals anymore, so don’t push yourself too hard… Crapkawa.”
“Just when I thought you were saying something nice, you had to ruin it!”
Iwaizumi smiles gently, sticking his tongue out in return when Oikawa does. Despite all his facades and masks, Oikawa is a truly emotive person. Iwaizumi had never met anyone quite as genuine as Oikawa and the rest of their team.
Oikawa is faith and logic mixed in one - a strange sentiment, as many people reach extremes of each. Yet he he stays in the middle, as someone who chooses to believe (in his friends, in his family, in his goals) but also someone who can cut off his emotions and choose the side of reasoning rather than emotion.
He is god-damn awful and god-damn amazing at the same time.
And then, there is the team. Iwaizumi himself had never been quite as happy as when he first saw Oikawa’s walls begin to crumble around their team. Even better - how all their teammates’ walls began to crumble as well.
How the fact that Oikawa grew to be so happy, so full of joy around these people. Iwaizumi barely had to worry anymore; but worrying had always been in his nature, especially with the kind of crap Oikawa used to get himself into, like when he would “hunt for aliens”, wait outside to “be abducted” or freak out after a terrifying alien movie (that was sub-par compared to Godzilla, for your information).
Yet, it’s okay now. Because they aren’t alone anymore. It isn’t like when they were in middle school and it seemed like Tooru & Hajime vs. The World. Iwaizumi is no longer burdened by the weight of his worries. Oikawa isn’t so lonely. And slowly, it seems the same for their teammates.
Hanamaki Takahiro, jersey #3. Wing Spiker. Iwaizumi thinks he’s never met someone quite as quirky and eccentric. No matter what it was, Makki always made everything fun and exciting. His dramatic tendencies know no bounds. But for the longest time, he paralleled Oikawa in that he kept a mask up. Nobody knew his family, his problems, his worries, his fears.
Matsukawa Issei, jersey #2. Middle Blocker. Almost as eccentric as Makki, yet more so with a quiet enthusiasm. Despite being insanely book-smart, he’s also insanely lazy. He is significantly more reserved than everyone else on the team, burying his emotions because otherwise it’s “too much work”. He joined the volleyball team by literally rolling a dice, landing a four, and joining the team of the fourth person who issued him a flyer. |
f6ef713fd68745a8b90ee847abef24df | ['569d8b51f6bd4802ab1a91b5b8d87a8f'] | The boy waved a final goodbye at his younger brother, wrapping his thin arms around his chest, his teeth almost clattering in the cold. With one last glance at Riku, he left out of the opened door. Pale knuckles pulled the door shut, and Tenn disappeared for the night, as Gaku began preparing Riku for bed.
His night ended after Riku fell asleep to a fairytale’s happy ending, on an emptied bowl of a soba. His dreams filled with chasing black Maseratis down a winding road, the constant strain on his hamstrings as he followed them, jogging the entire way in his tracksuit and trainers.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> gaku hates kinako, pass it on.
>
> okay so the 'daily routine' stuff has been established, so now i'm thinking of delving into that non-linear plot stuff (bear in mind the most non-linear i have ever written was flashback scenes, so ha, this is a fun little experiment)
>
> also yes, i am updating way before i said i would, because i am weak and love procrastinating on revision. why am i like this.
4. 12PM
_one year ago_
Under the white light of their makeshift dressing room, Tenn applied a pale blush to his cheeks, concentrating to not let it creep too far up his cheekbones. He opened the cap and pressed the slightly darker lipstick onto his pouting lips. The look he was attempting tonight was youthful and sweet, a role he was beyond familiar with playing. He had been carefully instructed, trained in every gesture and expression and even his gait, for the sake of carrying a character which would please his patrons. Dark mascara would contrast drastically with his off-white hair, so Tenn settled for a clear coat, fanning and spreading his curled lashes.
The shower was running in the small bathroom, and the smell of apples diffused from the door, left ajar to let out steam, to the mirror were he worked. With the creak of an knob being twisted shut, the sound of running water ceased, followed by the yanking of the shower door and wet footsteps stepping out.
“Tenn, did they deliver my clothes yet?” a voice called out from the bathroom, and out stepped Ryuunosuke Tsunashi, with a towel around his waist and another wrapped around his hair.
“Yeah, they’re on the bed” he called back, eyes fixed on the mirror, as he blended out the faint shimmer of his eyeshadow.
“Well, this is classy,” Ryuu remarked, his eyes scanning over the cream suit and forest green velvet shirt. He removed the towel covering his bottom half and pulled the trousers over his long legs.
“Hey, don’t brag,” Tenn whined half-heartedly, finishing his makeup and moving onto twisting his hair into shape. He could feel Ryuu glancing at the skimpy sailor fuku, with its teensy skirt and super cropped top, with a look of sympathy. “It took me ages to adjust skirt so that the garter belt didn’t poke through, of course maybe if the shirt didn’t expose my entire midriff, it wouldn’t have been too problematic.”
Ryuu chuckled, pulling the cream jacket over his broad shoulders, “Gosh, you really do have it hard. Well, to your credit, you look adorable, hypersexualised, but adorable.”
“Thanks,” Tenn grinned in return. “But, look at you,” he stood up from his chair and walked over to Ryuu. “You look like you’re off to a board meeting,” he sighed softly. His fingers reached over to unbutton half of Ryuu’s shirt.
“Tenn, what are you doing?” Ryuu asked, a light blush hanging over his cheeks.
“Making you sexy, of course. Those ladies don’t want a fuddy duddy businessman, they’re already married to one, I’m making you into the hot trophy husband they wished they had,” he gently tugged out some of the shirt from the waistband of Ryuu’s trousers. “I can’t believe you’re not showing off those perfect pecs.”
“Hey, don’t stare too much,” Ryuu scolded, comically blushing darker, tugging on his suit to cover his pectorals in vain. “Gosh, Ten, you’re really something.”
Tenn giggled in response, walking past Ryuu to the door, “Well, I’ve done this longer than you, naturally I know how to please patrons better.” He turned the knob and pushed it open. “And anyway, aren’t you idol? I’m surprised you’re this self-conscious, I’m sure your stage outfits are more risque than a simple shirt and suit.”
Ryuu followed him out, “Well, you’re not wrong, but I don’t know. Somehow I’m fine with performing for my fans, but this is still something else.” He shut the door behind them, ejecting their keycard from the slot.
Tenn hummed, “You haven’t been doing this for long, I suppose you’ll get used to it in time.” They walked down to the elevator, though the immaculately clean corridor, with it’s polished marble tiling and the lush red carpet which engulfed their shoes in its softness. Ten pushed a stainless steel button. “Who knows, maybe you’ll even become confident enough to finally have sex someone.”
“Hey, I’m just waiting for the right person!” Ryuu countered, blushing deeply. The elevator chimed and golden doors parted as they both stepped inside, the warm light enveloped them immediately, as the lift began to climb to the top floor. “Although you’re probably not wrong about the confidence thing.”
“For what it's worth, I’d say you’ve improved massively from when you started doing this,” Tenn smiled at him in earnest.
“You really think so?” Ryuu asked, the corners of his mouth lifting.
Tenn nodded, before wickedly smirking, “Give it another year and you’ll be a real Casanova.” | 317722a171fb4cb79db5ee9bc16b97eb | ['569d8b51f6bd4802ab1a91b5b8d87a8f'] |
Scarves and Snow
It was around midday, Gil, unlike his usual awesome self, still hadn't left his dorm room. Not because he had a totally unawesome hangover from a party or something, because there wasn't any parties, just Roddy's super lame orchestral concerts, with no booze but truffles with caramelised rum centres - you can't get drunk on those, Gil tried that. Birdie did scold him for eating the chocolates in 'such an undisciplined manner' and prattled about etiquette or some prissy shit like that.
Nah, Gil was going to enjoy a whole day with his awesome self today, because it was another totally rad Saturday with no uncool classes or even any club activities (which he did admittedly miss!), so he didn't have to leave his room to go to the school's campus or have his Swiss roommate threaten to shoot him with the hella cool rifle he got from hell knows where. Not that he didn't have other social commitments to attend, of course he did, he's the cool and popular Gilbert, for fuck's sake! Hell, his schedule was totally booked with band practice and some gigs in the afternoon, but he cancelled those today, Franny's 'oui, oui' somehow sounded sympathetic. Sometimes that bastard knew a little too much without Gil telling him anything, it was slightly annoying at times, but hey, at least he didn't ask ten thousand questions like Toni.
Arthur was covering the guitar parts for the gig, much to Francis' pleasure, the Frenchman's grin was practically audible when he announced this over the phone and Gil wished him luck on his romance conquest. And thankfully Switzy had took some time away from the half-awesome room they shared to hang out with his cute as a button little sister, Lili. Normally he'd be bummed about the Zwingli siblings ditching him and decide to tag along or go spread his awesomeness elsewhere, but even someone as cool as Gilbert needed his day off and today was a good of a day as any to spend in solitude.
Gil never really paid much attention to his thoughts, they kind of just rambled on and on - a bit like his little brother - and reminded him of unawesome things that he had pushed back to the very back his mind for a good reason. But today was a day for thoughts for Gilbert, it might be the day of love everywhere else in the world, but he didn't have that - not yet anyway.
But thoughts of love were all that was on his mind, he couldn't help but reminisce about his past lover affairs. Not that he had _that_ many, he did grow up avoiding love like the plague in his first two years of middle school. He couldn't really explain why, maybe it was because he thought love was Franny's thing, that's why it always seemed so uncool and not for him. Maybe it was because of his totally lame crush on Liz after she suddenly became pretty and feminine, then chose to ignore him for Roddy - not that he cares now, they never worked out in the end. Well, even the awesome him would feel a little discouraged after that and embrace the single lifestyle with around the clock parties and video game records that even Kiku and Alfred couldn't beat!
But there was that one time he reconsidered and decided the cosy with someone. To say the least, it obviously didn't last or even end well for that matter; he was scarcely friends with his ex now, probably for the benefit of both of them to keep their distance. Not that they actually did in the end, with a lot more hostile remarks exchanged every time they passed each other in the corridor or got placed together in class - though Ivan has been getting more scary nowadays, sissies like Roddy are really more to his taste.
Though for some reason today, he didn't want to fight with Ivan, instead he preferred to just stay in his room and remember the happy times when they didn't fight and Gil would call him Vanya instead of Ivan.
* * *
The taller of the two wrapped his scarf around Gilbert, it was a cold - but probably not _Russian_ cold - winter's morning in the midst of the February of their first year at high school.
It wasn't completely all his fault he forget his winter clothes, Vanya had kept him up all _verdammte_ night! Gil was in a panic in the morning to return to his room from Ivan's and get dressed for the school day before his Swiss roommate poked him with the tip of his rifle and ordered him around like he owned the fucking place. In fact, it was the Russian's fault for him feeling so disorganised, unlike his usual awesome self, and for his arse hurting like he stuck a pipe up it -well, maybe that wasn't quite what happened, but Gil didn't want to think if it anymore or he'd turn as red as Toni's tomatoes.
Of course, Gil didn't actually tell Vanya that, when they met up outside in the school's courtyard at recess. The Russian tutted at the minimal layers he wore, even going as far as shaking his head in mock disapproval, before he unravelled some of his scarf and wrapped that end around the neck of Prussian. Gilbert soon found he couldn't move too far from Ivan with the Russian's scarf wrapped around them, so he opted to stay close to Vanya and the warmth of his body heat.
"You know Gilbert, you are indeed a very silly snow rabbit," Ivan scolded the Prussian, giggling as he did so. "Didn't you know it would snow today?" |
b9f3325b88fd4761ac4939dd4e8be26d | ['56a4f235c2aa4edf8addefa447d2bc78'] | “What were you thinking?” Kurt spun round to where Santana was slumped on the couch, a bag of frozen peas on her hand. She just sighed and shook her head. “You can’t just go around punching people in the face!”
“Kurt, for God’s sake, leave her alone!” Rachel yelled, jumping up. “The guy was a sleazeball. He was hitting on me, hitting on her, asking to watch the two of us, making homophobic comments and then basically molested her! What would you have done?”
That took the wind out of his self righteous sails somewhat. “He did what?”
“You heard me. Now please calm down.” Rachel went to find a fresh bag for Santana’s hand.
“Santana, I’m sorry. I didn’t…” Kurt sat down next to her gently. “Are you okay?”
Santana just nodded. She hadn’t spoken at all since they had left the club. It was really starting to freak Rachel out. She walked over with the fresh bag and gave Kurt a pointed look which thankfully he had calmed down enough to understand.
“Okay, well I’m going to, er...I’ll see you ladies in the morning.” He scuttled off to his room, curtain swishing behind him.
Rachel sat down in the spot he had just vacated and gently lifted the bag off Santana’s injured hand. When she winced Rachel dropped her head down and kissed the rapidly bruising area softly then carefully set the new bag down. When she looked up Santana was looking at her for the first time since they got back to the loft, her eyes clouded in confusion.
“How does it feel?” She asked quietly. Santana just shrugged again. “How do you feel?”
Santana sighed and looked down at her hand. “Stupid.”
“Why?”
“Because I…” She rubbed at her forehead with her good hand. “I lost it. I should never have let myself get into that position. I should have handled it before it got to that stage but I was drunk and worried for you and I turned my back on him and gave him the chance to...and then I just…” She sighed again and dropped her hand into her lap. “I’ve never hit anyone before.”
Rachel pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head. “Come here.”
Santana wrapped her good arm around Rachel and relaxed into the hug. “I’m so sorry I ruined your night, Rachel.”
“Hey, you didn’t ruin anything.” Rachel whispered, kissing her again. “That lecherous asshole ruined it. Or tried to. Don’t tell anyone but I really enjoyed watching you knock him out.”
“Yeah, right.” She chuckled softly.
“I’m serious! Bam! Bitch went down. Bam! San, super bitch.”
Santana stiffened slightly. “Are you quoting Scream at me right now?”
“Maybe.” Rachel smiled into her head.
“You’re amazing.”
Rachel felt her cheeks colour slightly. “Why, thank you, Ms Lopez. You’re not so bad yourself.”
“Bitch, please.” Santana mumbled into her shoulder. “I’m badass.”
“As I am sure ‘Nick’ will testify.” She spat. “Unless they had to wire the fucker’s jaw shut.”
“Rachel Berry!” Santana sat up, her jaw dropping open in mock astonishment.
“Whatever. Come on.” Rachel stood up and held her hand out.
“Where are we going?”
“You’re not sleeping out here, you’re injured.” She didn’t know quite when she had made this decision, or why, or if it was a good idea but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She wanted to keep Santana close. She wanted to look after her. Suddenly all the things she had been worrying about for the last however long seemed utterly ridiculous. They would have to talk about it, of course, but not tonight. Tonight she just wanted to sleep, and she wanted Santana with her. Couldn’t it just be that easy? “Come on, don’t make me drag you.”
Santana looked at her with something approaching fear.
“Santana Lopez, I am tired and I want to go to sleep. Don’t make me beg.” She felt herself blush slightly remembering the other night, but held out her hand again anyway. After what felt like an age Santana tentatively took her hand and followed her into the bedroom.
23. Chapter 23
Chapter 23. New York
Santana woke up slowly and realised that she was wrapped up in a tangle of arms and limbs with Rachel. She didn’t dare move in case she woke the other girl up. This was...new. She hadn’t understood Rachel’s thinking last night, and yes, she had been slightly freaked out but…
A smile slowly crept across her face and she cuddled into Rachel a tiny bit more.
“What are you smiling about?” Rachel whispered, a little amusement evident in her voice.
Shit. Santana hadn’t realised she was awake. Well, this wasn’t embarrassing at all. “Oh. I, er...I was thinking about...er…”
Rachel squeezed her and kissed her head. “It’s okay, I get it.” She was smiling as well. “How’s your hand?” Santana stretched her arm out behind Rachel’s head, testing out her injury.
“Surprisingly not too bad. It’s a good job his face was so puffy I guess.”
They lay there for a few moments in easy silence.
“Are you working today?”
“Uh, yeah.” Santana sighed, rubbing her face. “I have two of my jobs today and it’s going to be a late one.”
“Wait, how many jobs do you have?”
“Three.”
Rachel sat up, making Santana drop down onto the bed and whine about the sudden lack of contact. “Santana! Three jobs? When do you get a chance to work on your plan?”
“My plan?” Now she was really confused.
“Yes! Your future plan. The reason you are here.” Rachel replied, as if this was the most obvious thing imaginable.
“My future plan?” Santana needed coffee. Morning conversations were not her forte.
“Yes! Why you’re here, in New York.” Now Rachel was waving her arms around wildly. Ugh, too much. Santana slid out from under the covers and headed towards the kitchen. “Where are you going?” | 9dc9aefc648d4d59aa1b7a30ae94280b | ['56a4f235c2aa4edf8addefa447d2bc78'] | A burst of laughter from a group leaving the bar brought her back to herself and she pulled her lips away, leaning back slightly.
Santana was looking back down at her, eyes dark with lust. “How quickly can we get back to your place?”
Rachel groaned and fell against Santana’s chest as she realised. “Brody’s there.”
“Why? Is he waiting for you?”
“He lives there.” Rachel felt Santana tense beneath her.
Slowly she raised her eyes to Santana’s face once more. Her expression was unreadable.
“He lives with you?” Rachel nodded gently. Santana breathed out slowly and pushed Rachel into a standing position before standing herself and shrugging her coat on as she began to walk down the street. Warily Rachel began to follow, rapidly sobering up and really not prepared for the wave of emotions that began to wash over her.
Suddenly Santana stopped dead in the street and turned to face her. “He lives with you?” She repeated, incredulously. Rachel could only nod again, fighting back tears. “Well, do you mind telling me what the fuck you think you’re doing pushing me up against a wall in the middle of the street and kissing me like that when you have a boyfriend who fucking lives with you?”
“Santana…”
“A boyfriend who you neglected to tell me even existed before tonight?”
“Well, it’s not as if we really talk about…”
“Save it, Rachel.” Santana spat. “We’ve talked practically every day since Christmas. You would think you having a serious enough relationship with somebody that they’ve fucking moved in might have come up at some point.” With that she turned on her heel and marched off up the street.
Rachel followed slowly, tears rolling down her face stopping only when Santana ducked into an all night store. She felt terrible. Santana was right, she had had plenty of opportunities to bring up Brody and she hadn’t. And, as usual, she didn’t know why.
When Santana reappeared, swigging something out of a brown paper bag, she seemed to have calmed down slightly so Rachel fell into step next to her.
After a couple of minutes of silent marching Santana offered her the bottle.
“No, thank you.” Rachel said softly. “I’m so sorry, Santana.”
“Don’t.” The reply was softer than before but still angry, so Rachel dropped it and they walked home silently together.
By the time they reached their building Santana had drunk a fair bit of whatever was in the bottle and was walking a good deal more unsteadily than before. She leaned up against the wall whilst waiting for Rachel to open the door and Rachel looked up at her with concern.
“Are you okay?”
“No, not really.” Santana chuckled sadly. She drew in a breath and turned to look at her for the first time since they had left the bar. “Rachel, what are we doing?”
Rachel dropped her eyes to the floor and tried to come up with something, anything to say to make this situation make sense. In the end she turned to open the door and said the only thing that she had been able to come up with whenever she tried to work it out in her own head.
“I don’t know.”
* * *
Rachel didn’t know what to do. She was tempted just to hide in bed until Santana left and deal with it all at another time, but that would be cowardly and if there was one thing Rachel Berry was not it was a coward.
So, with no idea what she was going to say or how to handle the situation she found herself in, she steeled her resolve and made her move towards the kitchen.
“Morning, Rachel.” Kurt said cheerfully. “There’s aspirin here, if Santana hasn’t taken them all.”
“Thanks,” she muttered, shuffling over to the sink for some water.
“Good night?”
“Um, yeah.”
Kurt chuckled to himself. “You sound about as sure as Santana.”
“Why?” Rachel snapped her head in his direction, instantly regretting the sudden movement. “What did she say?”
“Oh, she has no memory of it at all.” Kurt laughed before taking a drink of coffee and grimacing. “I think the faceplant into the sofa has knocked it out of her head. She doesn’t even remember meeting Brody.”
“Oh, God.” Rachel put her head in her hands and leaned on the counter. “I forgot about that. I suppose I will need to try and explain to him that that was just Santana being Santana.”
“Hmm. I wonder if he will believe that she was actually quite restrained last night?”
Restraint. God, Rachel wished she had had some of that herself last night.
“You okay, Rach?” Kurt was looking at her like he knew something. She hated when he did that.
“As well as can be expected given the unprecedented amount of alcohol I consumed last night.” Rachel replied, willing herself to get a grip. She sat at the table and popped a couple of aspirin into her hand. “How is she?”
Kurt laughed. “Better than she was when she woke up. She managed a couple of insults before she disappeared into the shower so I would say she’s on the mend.”
As if on cue the bathroom door opened and Santana appeared. Rachel immediately felt herself tense but if Santana was having any similar issues she gave no indication.
“Ugh, tequila is not my friend.” She muttered, shuffling over to the couch and packing her things into her bag. “Morning, Berry.”
“Good morning, Santana.” Rachel replied, trying to keep her voice normal. “Would you like some coffee?”
“God, no. That stuff is awful.” Santana grimaced as she zipped up her bag. “I’ll grab some on my way.”
“Oh, you’re leaving?”
“Yup. Got a flight to catch.” Santana pulled her bag onto her shoulder and shot a small smirk in her direction. “No rest for the wicked.”
“Well, I can come with you if you…” Rachel started, getting up from the table. |
a929c2c70ab2405cb5a59c745741ee9d | ['56bc6f4adbd046c59844fadd0aeede75'] | I'm up off my knees
I'm so tired of bein' lonely
You can't give me what I need
When she begs you not to go
There is one thing you should know
I don't have to live this way*
When he was done he looked around the room one last time before going into the
living room and looking around until he’d found a pen and a sheet of paper, writing
a simple note he quickly found an envelope and placed it inside before writing
Heeros name on it and taping it to the door. Stepping outside he hailed a cab
and told the driver to go to the airport, once there he called Lady Une and told
her he quit, than he called Quatre and told him what had happened and that he
needed help, he was on the first flight out.
*Baby why don't you stay*
When Heero arrived back a few days later, all he found was a destroyed apartment
and a note taped to the door, telling him that Duo had left him and why, and he
felt his heart shatter a break in his chest.
**Author's Note:**
> I know, I’m the worst person ever, I really do love Heero/Duo and I can’t imagine
> them with anyone else………….Well unless it’s like a threesome thing, them and someone
> thrown in, because really that would be kinda hot, and it’s not that I hate Relena I
> don’t, she’s not my favorite girl on the show, that honor I’m sorry goes to Trowas
> sister Catherine. But I don’t hate her, she’s okay and in the right story can actually
> be a great character, however I had to use her, because when I heard this song I thought
> of Heero and Duo and how Heeros big brother complex can be taken wrong and what Duo
> would feel if he thought Heero were actually sleeping with her. So yeah I had to I’m
> sorry, please when you kill me, do it fast because I really am truly sorry. Bye. | 9c90d8a520ce4d43a3799bc6ff9e13a0 | ['56bc6f4adbd046c59844fadd0aeede75'] | to wish him dead. But at night laying beside him, listening to him breathe, feeling his arms possessively
tight around her, she could be honest enough with herself to admit she didn't hate him. She didn't loathe
him, and if he were to die she would follow him to Hades' realm with a smile on her face. She might have been
tempted to tell the truth if he didn't already know that every time she said she hated him, what she was really saying
was "I love you."
6. It's Your Love
Title: It's Your Love
Author: OneshotYaoiShipper
Rating: FR-13
Disclaimer: I don't own anything: not any of the characters or any of the fandoms, not even Faith's saying, which is the title of these ficlets. Hannah Abbott, from _Harry Potter_ , is owned by J.K Rowlings; Jasyn, from _Dark Hunters_ , is owned by Sherrilyn Kenyon.
Summary: He was the biggest bad in all the land, and she wasn't.
Jasyn never thought he would end up mated and certainly never to a sweet, gentle, shy, timid little
field mouse of a woman. Beautiful Hannah might be, but she kept her head down and her large brown eyes
averted and never did anything to bring attention to herself. In fact, Jasyn wasn't even sure how he had noticed
her. She didn't relish his courting of her. He'd downright terrified her until she realized he meant her no harm.
Though looking back it must have been a little frightening for someone as timid as her to suddenly find herself being
courted by a psychotic maniac like him. But, she didn't run; she stayed and allowed him to court her,
to make her his mate. She allowed him the honor of loving her, of protecting her, of being the father of her
children. Though maybe that's what drew his attention to Hannah: her gentleness and her kindness. His animal
knew she would be the balm to his weary soul, so while he would always hold the title of the biggest bad in the entire
world, Hannah and her love would always be his peace.
7. She Ain't Right
Title: She Ain't Right
Author: OneshotYaoiShipper
Rating: FR-13
Disclaimer: I don't own anything: not any of the characters or
any of the fandoms, not even Faith's saying, which is the title of these ficlets.
Violet is owned _by Mutant Enemy_ and _Joss Whedon_ , Lysander is owned by _Sherrilyn Kenyon_.
Summary: Lysander knew she wasn't Mrs. Right but who wanted that?
When they first met, she tried to stab him with a pocket knife,
her larger knife having fallen in the dense underbrush of the
jungle never to be found again. When she first realized he meant
her no harm, she grinned at him and said it amazed her someone
so hot wasn't evil. The moment he knew she was crazy was when
she attacked a group of Daimons armed only with a sharp piece of
wood and a grin, all the while humming the theme song to Scooby
Doo under her breath. The moment he knew he was going to spend
the rest of his life with her was when the mating mark appeared on his
hand and he heard her remark 'cool' from the next room. The second he
knew he loved her was when she hunted down and killed the last sentinel
for him and presented him with its heart wrapped with a bright orange bow.
The second he knew that while she wasn't Mrs. Right she was just right
for him was a second after he realized he loved her, so really, what else was
there?
8. I Never Knew Love
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Most of the time it's hard to love herself, but it's never hard to love him.
Title: I Never Knew Love
Author: OneshotYaoiShipper
Rating: FR-13
Disclaimer: I don't own anything: not any of the characters or
any of the fandoms, not even Faith's saying, which is the title of these ficlets.
Tara, from _Buffy_ , is owned by Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon; Remi, from _Dark Hunters_ , is owned by Sherrilyn Kenyon.
Summary: Most of the time it's hard to love herself, but it's never hard to love him.
There are times when all she wants to do is throw her
hands up and quit, to say, "That's it; you win; I give up."
There are times when all she wants to do is cry, to lay
her head in her hands and let the tears roll down her face
and let the shudders she's holding back wrack her body.
There are times she wishes she didn't love him because
not loving him would be easier and she could allow
herself to do all things she wants. He expects things
from her, things no one else ever did. Willow didn't
mind if she was weak and didn't speak up because Willow
was strong and spoke enough for everyone and didn’t like
it when people questioned her. Remi demands she speak up,
won't allow her to keep her mouth shut and go along with something
she doesn't like because it's easy. Remi won't
allow her to be weak; he says he knows she's stronger
than that and forces her to stand up for herself even if
giving in is easier or better for everyone else. Tara has
never loved herself, always too full of doubt and fright and
timid shyness to ever do something like that. She thought
she loved Willow but being here with Remi, learning how
to be strong, finding her voice is all because of Remi.
She knows she's finding out what real love truly is.
9. I Need You
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> He's a monster, but she rarely seems to care.
Title: I Need You
Author: OneshotYaoiShipper
Rating: FR-13
Disclaimer: I don't own anything: not any of the characters or any of the fandoms, |
e0454829c9a149febaf49879d5323788 | ['56d982a9dbf04264a775fbba1d6e2af7'] | Shepard couldn't quite read the expression on his face as he stepped in. Confusion? Denial? She'd deal with it later. Her words hadn't been flattery. She still didn't find turians sexually attractive as a whole, but Garrus definitely did it for her. She liked the sweep of his cowl over his shoulders and the way it flowed into the keel of his breastbone. She liked the broad expanse of his back and how it felt under her hands when she clung to him. She liked – he turned in the shower and her eyes followed the rivulets of water – oh yes, she liked the jut of his hips and the ropy muscles of his thighs.
He was taking longer than usual to get clean. She dragged her eyes away from admiring the flex of his arms and up to his face just in time to catch him sneaking a look at her. He was doing it on purpose. He didn't know why she'd decided to play voyeur, but he was indulging her anyway. He looked away, not quite fast enough for Shepard not to see the nervous twitch of his mandibles. Shepard frowned. That was the opposite of what she wanted.
She took off her shirt and wriggled her pants down over her hips. They bunched around her feet until she pushed off her shoes and let the whole tangled mess fall to the floor. The sound made Garrus twist around, and she stretched, knowing the motion did wonderful things to the lines of her torso.
The water turned off, and a moment later Garrus stood dripping in front of her. She smiled innocently at him. He tilted his head back, and Shepard put her hands up.
“Don't you dare,” she told him.
He grinned at her, then shook his head forward, the water trapped in the grooves of his fringe flying everywhere. It hadn't turned cold yet, but she still smacked him in the arm and dodged his attempt at a wet hug.
“The towels are over there, Vakarian.”
“What, done looking?” He was joking, but it was the _krogan women and scars_ kind of joking again.
“Nope.” Shepard ignored his startled look and went back to the bedroom. She piled all the pillows she could find at the head of the bed, and waited. Garrus came out few minutes later and there was tension in him again.
“Shepard.” Garrus paused and for a moment looked so lost that her heart hurt. “What's going on?”
“Sit down?” she asked, gesturing at the pillows. He put his back against them and stretched his legs out in front of him. Once he was settled, Shepard climbed into his lap, straddling his hips and resting her arms on his shoulders. He put his hands on the outer curve of her thighs and sighed when she leaned her forehead into his. They stayed that way for a long moment before she pulled back.
“There were a couple of turians at the bar,” she said. “Female. They were looking for company and not being particularly quiet as they evaluated their options.” Garrus went very still under her, and she knew she would sooner pull out her own tongue than tell him he'd been one of those discussed. “Some of what they said about the other turians there made me realize that your scars,” she cupped that side of his face with her hand and ran her thumb along the edge of his mandible, “might be a bigger deal than I thought. You've never been shy about telling me that you like how I look, and it occurred to me that I haven't been very good about returning the favor.”
“Shepard,” Garrus began. “You don't need to -”
“But then,” Shepard interrupted, placing her fingers over his mouth. “I remembered that unless it's wrapped up in a joke, you can't take a compliment worth shit.” His mouth moved under her fingers and she took her hand away to kiss him, swallowing any words of indignation. “So I figured it would be easier to show you,” she said, leaning back again. “But I want to say it out loud at least once, just so we're clear.” She took his head in her hands then, and kissed his browplate, ghosting her lips lower to the lighter plates above his eyes. She drifted down to the colony markings on his cheeks, and lingered there, tracing the lines with her fingers and following with featherlight kisses. Soft and gentle was not in her nature, but his disbelief that she might find him attractive on purely physical grounds offended her sense of what was just.
His hands were trembling on her thighs by the time she made her way to his mandibles. She didn't have any of her own to slide against his, but she compensated as best she could with her fingers and tongue. Scarred and not received the same care, and when she finally kissed him on the mouth, he gave a full body shudder and gripped her legs hard enough to leave bruises.
“You,” she said to him, drawing her hands down his neck, “are damn sexy, Vakarian.” She dug her nails in and ground her hips into him hard. He bucked back involuntarily, and she could could feel him hard and thick through the thin material of her underwear. “If you didn't insist on wearing your armor everywhere, I'd have christened half the ship with you by now.” She kissed him again. “And not just because I'm in love with you, but because you're that irresistible.” | b17a7925343c4045b4ee9bbcb76c964d | ['56d982a9dbf04264a775fbba1d6e2af7'] | “It's all right. I was just making sure Garrus got some decent food for a change.”
Garrus met Liara's eyes over Shepard's head. He knew she knew what pultem was. “It sounds delicious,” she said and he gave her a grateful look.
“It is,” he said. “It's nice to have something besides MREs for once.”
“Good.” Shepard jumped down from the counter. “We can finish catching up in my cabin, Liara. Garrus, I'll leave you and your turian delicacy alone together.” He snorted and waved them off.
Shepard stayed relaxed up to her cabin, for which Liara was immensely grateful. It would hurt more than she wanted to admit if Shepard closed up again around her. Shepard's continued open demeanor gave Liara the courage to ask about her and Garrus. If her instincts were right, she would feel much less conflicted about her decision not to rejoin the Normandy's crew.
“It's new,” Shepard admitted. “And this is a Cerberus ship, so we're trying not to spread it around.”
Liara wanted to laugh in relief. If Shepard had even one person she could be her old self with, Liara could return to her own ship with a lighter heart. “He's good for you,” she said. “I think you smiled more just now than all the rest of my visit.”
“I'm more worried about being good for him,” Shepard sighed. “The past couple of years were pretty hard.” Her eyes unfocused for a moment as she stared past her fish tank, then she shook herself and threaded her arm through Liara's. “But thanks. And I'm sorry if it seemed like I wasn't glad to have you.”
Liara shook her head. “I'm sorry I can't go with you. But I am glad you have friends aboard.”
“Me too,” Shepard said. “All right, enough of this. I know I have alcohol up here and I'm not passing up the chance to get the Shadow Broker drunk.”
* * * * *
_T'Soni smiles off into the distance, and it takes several tries to recall her attention._
_“I was happy they had each other,” she says. She listens and her smile fades. “I asked and she told me.” T'Soni sits up straighter, looking every inch the daughter of Matriarch Benezia. “Might I suggest you do the same?”_
_The dismissal in her voice is obvious and the camera backs out of the room before switching off._
* * * * *
_“It's not often I'm on this side of the camera.”_
_A view of London stretches out behind the table the woman sits at. There is no helpful infographic to identify her. The longest running host of Battlespace needs none. She raises her eyebrows._
_“What, no 'Did I know?' That's what I hear you've been asking everyone else.” Diana Allers takes a sip of her drink. “It was the perfect human interest story. I never covered it because Shepard wouldn't have let it leave the ship. First and only time I've handed over editorial power, but it was worth it to be on the Normandy.”_
_She lets out an exasperated breath at another question. “Look, if you want to do this kind of work, you need to learn to listen better.” Allers pauses as if waiting for a response, then shakes her head when none is forthcoming. She leans forward. “I'm not on the Normandy now.”_
* * * * *
It was different, living on a ship for an extended period of time. Diana was used to traveling all over the galaxy, but those were there-and-back trips. Here she wasn't a passenger and wasn't part of the crew, putting her in a strange, undefined position that left the Alliance soldiers faintly hostile when they weren't ignoring her altogether. The hostility she could handle. Being ignored was a new experience.
Even her job was altered. She was doing almost nothing but straight reporting. She'd had one brief interview with Shepard shortly after arriving on board, but mostly she was just passing along information. The latest front in the war, the latest, necessarily vague, news from the resistance movements, the latest planets hit, the latest casualty numbers. To keep herself sane, she'd started to investigate little mysteries on the ship. Like why the panel near the men's bathroom kept coming loose (James Vega had a tendency to bang his fist against it when he had to wait in line), or who kept eating all the outer leaves off of the inoa fruits (Gabby Daniels liked to chew on them when she was working through a sticky engineering problem).
Diana's current puzzle involved one of the chairs in the lounge and why one side was more worn than the other. The upper right side, to be precise. The back had a small dip there, and the fabric was softer and looser than on the other side. She'd tried sitting in the chair and resting her elbow behind her in that spot, but the back was too tall to do so comfortably. Maybe if she was a turian.
That was a good thought, but while the few times she'd found Vakarian in the lounge he'd been sitting in that particular chair, he'd had the wrong arm slung over its back. Further excursions to the lounge during the various shifts failed to turn up anything else. It was almost to the point where she was seriously considering breaking one of her self-appointed rules not to ask EDI for information. Almost. |
41dcbf187e314ae4a0e85539ec0f474f | ['56eea34dcfbd468db5ceb72fdd11dc7a'] |
Inside Bucky Barnes and Captain America's Renovated Brooklyn Townhouse | Open Door
**Author's Note:**
> Most of this was written during ao3's tragic server downfall yesterday, no ragrets.
“Hi!” As soon as we’re up the steps and in front of the gorgeous double doors of the Brooklyn brownstone, we’re immediately greeted by Bucky Barnes, all smiles and docked in the homey attire of a grey knitted sweater and jeans, leaning casually on the wooden doors. Beside him, the tall figure of our nation’s most beloved captain stands straight with a matching genuine smile.
“I’m Bucky, and this is my lovely husband Steve-” The actor-turned-director reached out and touched his partner lightly on the arm and the strong man relaxed visibly.
“Hello.” The blonde man’s wave is a little awkward and shy. Wearing simple khakis and a white t-shirt, he is certainly different from the strong, uniform-wearing superhero the public knows him for.
“-and welcome to our home, come on in!” Bucky finished with a dramatic spread of arms, then beckoned at us to follow him through the doors
-
The couple first lead us into the entrance hall of their home, immediately we can sense that this house is a lived-in space, with evidence of their everyday lives littered throughout the space(car keys inside a gold lined vintage glass bowl on top of a shoe shelf, a lit candle jar next to it)
“So we really should have tidied up better for this, but the both of us actually just came back yesterday night from our respective jobs, so bear with the mess.” Steve waved at the said shoe shelf with a small laugh. “Bucky was filming in LA and I was in DC.”
“We actually have a place in both those places as well, but this is where we prefer to spend our time when I’m not away shooting a movie or when Steve is busy saving the world.” Bucky gestured around the area. The entrance way is narrow-as most brownstone homes, but brightly lit and the staircase is a beautiful vintage affair, with decorative railings that emit a timeless grace, the whole staircase is painted black in stark contrast to the white paneled walls, a hint of modern minimalism that adds to the beauty of the set.
“We’re both from Brooklyn so it made sense for us to come back when we wanted to settle down. This is actually the first place we looked at and we just immediately fell in love with it, it just felt like home.” Bucky turned to his husband and the couple shared a knowing smile.
“Come on through, let’s give you guys a little tour.”
They laced their fingers together and motioned at us to follow them down the hallway.
-
“So, this is pretty much the entire first floor, it used to be sectioned into rooms, but when we moved in we decided we’ll knock all the walls down.” The actor explained as he lead us through the arched doorway at the end of the very short hallway and a big, spacious room. The ceiling to floor windows bathed the room in warm sunlight, as Bucky had suggested, this room seems to be as large as the entire first floor of the brownstone. Through the doorway, you’ll find a comfortable living area on the north side and a open kitchen and dining area on the other.
Similar to what we were hinted at with the graceful yet modern stairs, the large room is made up from dark wooden floors while the walls, ceiling and decorative molding are all painted white in unison. It’s evident that the designer intended for the space to have a contemporary, minimalistic vibe with the use of blacks, whites and muted colors of the furniture. While this is the case, the simplistic pieces are almost all covered with various decorative items with vibrant colors, while house plants- big, small, hanging off the walls, adorn the space with various shades of lucious green.
Bucky flopped onto the grey sofa, dragging his willing husband down to sit with him, the sofa is littered with a ridiculous amount of cushions- all different colours and patterns- which threaten to spill onto the ground at the two additions of weight, opposite the sofa sat two other velvet armchairs, a cherry wood round coffee table between in the space between, a widescreen television on the wall facing the big sofa.
“Steve loves the simplistic look, you might not be able to tell now, but that was actually what the house was designed to have when we renovated it.”
The captain nods with a bashful smile, “Back then, the way people decorated their homes were different. Most people aimed to fit as much as possible in their homes- it was a way of showing that they could afford luxuries. Now, the aesthetic is completely different and I love it!” He grinned, “I love the use of negative space in this century, there wasn’t much of it back then, it’s fascinating to me how the use of nothingness can convey beauty, so I really wanted the same style in our home. Except…” He trailed off, eyeing his chuckling husband sheepishly.
“Except I hate it.” Bucky finished for him, “I started acting at a very young age, and I’ve been living in hotel rooms most my life.” He explained with a shrug, “while Steve likes what most hotel rooms look like, I wanted our home to-” He paused, apparently looking for the right words when Steve chipped in for him: “To feel like home?”
“Yes!” Bucky brightened, leaning into his husband briefly, “I wanted our place to look like a home, not somewhere that’s always pristine and clean like those hotels.”
He waggled his fingers, making Steve laugh, “Yep, and he always gets his way.” | 020ef363e0cb4cfabcf2fba00853deb0 | ['56eea34dcfbd468db5ceb72fdd11dc7a'] | Scarlett calls him an idiot.
He thinks she’s right.
\----
“Jenny is coming.” He tells Sebastian one night, Chris is sprawled out onto the bed, naked and staring at the ceiling. Sebastian is sitting by the window smoking, a robe wrapped around his body as a soft acoustic tune is playing out of his phone.
Sebastian pauses mid puff, his eyes snap to the window as the cigarette leaves his lips briefly.
“Oh.”
Then
“Okay. Sure.”
Chris panics.
“I mean, just as a friend, we stayed friends you know- she’s pretty amazing, funny, you’ll like her, you should meet her, but- uh, she doesn’t know that we- ah shit, I don’t mean-” Chris cuts off his tangent abruptly to see Sebastian looking at him.
“Seb? I don’t mean, I mean- she doesn’t know you, but I’m sure she’ll love to meet you.” He bites the inside of his cheek, “We’re just friends.” He adds, feeling dumb.
Sebastian nods slowly, “We’re just friends.” He repeats, or says, Chris can’t tell which “we” he’s talking about anymore.
“Seb? I mean- if you don’t want to- I’m sorry-” He cuts himself off again before he starts sounding more stupid. “I just thought you might want to get to know her too.”
_So you’ll believe me when I say we’re just friends._
Sebastian shakes his head with a little laugh, dropping himself onto the bed next to him,
“I do know her, she doesn’t know me.”
Chris lets his words sink in, and it makes him want to hide underneath his sheets so he doesn’t have to look at Sebastian looking at him. Because whenever Sebastian looks at him, it feels like he’s stripped bare, as if Sebastian can see straight into his soul with those stormy blue eyes.
It makes him feel like an asshole, and he doesn't want to, not with Sebastian.
“She’ll be around for a few days-uh, it’s for work, you can meet her when you’re free.”
Sebastian smiles, and leans forward, shushes Chris' screaming mind with a kiss. They melt into the bed together.
The next morning when he wakes up, it’s still dark outside and Sebastian’s already getting dressed.
“So, should we make a date to get dinner with her?” Chris asks while flicking through his phone, there are a dozen new messages, three of them are important, one is from Jenny.
Sebastian gives him an unreadable look through the mirror and shrugs, “I’m busy, you go ahead.”
Chris frowns, _What’re you busy with?_ He wants to ask, _you don’t have scenes in the next few days._
“We can plan, when’s your next free night?” He says instead, but Sebastian looks at him like he’s heard every single word, even the unspoken ones.
Sebastian pulls on his jacket and pulls out a packet of cigarettes from the pocket.
He smiles, “Gonna be busy for a while, don’t call.”
Then he’s gone. |
d8fe9b135aba45a9ad8924f96f9407b0 | ['5715b702870d485290fd118eb611d0fc'] | Daniel began asking David questions about how he felt, and if he was ready to talk about what had happened. When David began signing to Daniel about what happened, he obviously was shaken up, and he had a hard time signing things, whether it be from his shaky hands, or just the pure shock of actually telling him what fully happened. He began sobbing after he was finished, letting out soft, hoarse noises of grief.
Daniel pulled him into a hug, gently rubbing his back as he rocked side to side. David immediately hugged back, wanting some form of comfort from him, and he wanted Daniel to make him feel safe again, as if Max had never hurt him in the first place. David felt awful for letting Max in so quickly. He had remembered how awful of a person Max was, but he still let him in, thinking he had changed. He hadn't, and now David was paying the price.
They separated after about 10 minutes, with David wiping his eyes and vigorously apologizing to Daniel for crying so much and getting his shirt wet. To this, Daniel only told him that it was okay, and that he didn't mind, as long as he was helping David feel better.
Heidi walked in after a little while, saying that breakfast was ready. It was a small meal of pancakes and other things, such as bacon, eggs, and biscuits. As they ate, Daniel looked over to Heidi, deciding to set his plan into motion. "So, Ms. Heidi, would you mind installing security cameras around the house? I noticed you didn't have any, and I know that in my good will, I just had to warn you about the danger of not having them. It would be a very nice precaution if a thief broke in, considering that you may be able to identify his face easier."
Heidi smiled, nodding. "That sounds like a great idea, Daniel! I was actually looking into trying to buy some just the other day, so thank you for reminding me! Since Max is staying, I'll make sure it's okay with him," she said, before turning to the male in question and asking if it was okay with him.
He had earbuds in, so he hadn't caught the conversation prior to that, since he was blaring music through the earbuds. He had only heard thief and Max, so he assumed that Heidi was going to ask him about helping them watch out for thieves, and things like that. He nodded, saying, "Yeah, fine with me."
Daniel smiled at this, nodding. "Alright! Well, the bus will be getting here soon, so I'm afraid that David and I have to leave soon. Do you mind me spending another night here?"
Heidi shook her head, saying, "Of course not! Feel free to stay as long as you like!"
Daniel nodded, and signed to David about the bus arriving soon. David finished eating, and Daniel set their dirty dishes in the sink before helping David with his backpack, grabbing his things, and walking out with a wave goodbye to everyone else in the house. He told David about the cameras, and this made David smile as he thought about how Max couldn't hurt him now. Once they were done talking, the bus arrived a few minutes later, and the two of them hopped on to go to school for the day.
8. Sweet Nights
When they returned home from school, Daniel saw Max waiting for him and David, and Max did not look happy. Daniel couldn't help but form a confident smirk, saying, "Why, hello there, Max. What's got you down in the dumps?"
At this, Max growled. "You know exactly why, asshole," he said, a deep scowl on his face.
David walked inside, and Daniel followed. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Daniel waved at David's parents, and David hugged the two of them happily. He told them about how his day went, before he and Daniel retreated up to his room.
The two of them sat on David's bed, and David was still for a few moments, before signing, 'Daniel, can I talk to you about something?'
Daniel nodded reasurringly. 'Of course. What is it?'
David nervously watched Daniel's hands, before signing to him, 'This morning, I woke up cuddling with you, and I felt happy. Really, really happy. You make me feel safe, and I just wanted to ask..Do you think we could be boyfriends? I feel amazing when I'm around you, and you make me feel like no one could ever hurt me.'
Daniel smiled softly, and he nodded. 'I'd love to be your boyfriend, David.'
At this, David grinned before pulling him into a tight hug. Daniel immidiently hugged back, rubbing David's back as he did so. David pulled away, but he kept his face close to Daniel's. The pressure to do something hung in the air, and so Daniel did just that. He gently cupped David's cheek before he pulled him into a soft and gentle kiss, closing his eyes.
David's eyes widened, but after a few moments, he let his eyes flutter closed as he kissed Daniel back. He loved the feeling of kissing Daniel. It made him feel loved and protected, something he desperately craved due to recent events. He tilted his head slightly, draping his arms around Daniel's neck as he pulled Daniel closer.
The two of them pulled away after a minute, their eyes slowly fluttering open. David lightly tapped Daniel's back three times, and Daniel looked a little confused. David pulled his hands back to where Daniel could see them, signing to explain. 'It means "I love you".'
Daniel smiled softly again, and gently tapped David's arm three times to return the gesture. David felt his heart soar, and he pulled Daniel into another gentle kiss. Daniel hummed softly as he kissed back, wrapping an arm around the male's waist.
The two of them layed down together to cuddle, and Daniel pulled away to pepper light pecks all around David's face. David let out a hoarse little giggle at this, tapping Daniel three times again. Daniel immidiently returned the gesture, and the next couple of hours were filled with David's giggles, and Daniel continuing to shower him in affection.
They were interrupted by being called down for dinner, and Daniel smiled as he got up with David. They sat next to each other at the table, and Heidi sat on David's other side. David smiled more as he realized that Max wouldn't be able to touch him, and he happily ate dinner as he signed with Heidi, Danny, and Daniel. Max sat with a frown, blaring music as he ate.
Max went to bed early, and as it was nearing time for David and Daniel to go to bed, David became more and more anxious. He was terrified that Max would hurt him, but he didn't let anyone know how scared he was.
Once David went to bed, so did Daniel. They changed seperately, before meeting again in David's bedroom. Daniel locked the new lock that David had on his door, and David looked confused. 'Where did that come from?'
'I asked Heidi to install locks and security cameras. Max won't hurt you again, David. If he does, there will be proof, and he's going to be going to jail for a long time.'
David smiled, hugging Daniel with a noise of joy. The two of them embraced for a while, before they layed down and Daniel pulled David into a gentle and warm embrace. The blonde gently peppered kisses all over his David's face, and they continued telling each other that they loved each other. David was the first to fall asleep, and Daniel drifted off after him, both of the males sleeping peacefully all night in each other's arms.
**Author's Note:**
> This is my first work on here, and I hope you enjoy this! I would love to hear what you think about it in the comments, so feel free! Also, my amazing and talented friend Pipsoline is making their own version, called "HEAR NO EVIL". I strongly reccomend that you go check it out! | 94999d7406a546f8a463d89edd70220e | ['5715b702870d485290fd118eb611d0fc'] | David had fallen asleep in a bean bag chair, and so Daniel walked over to the bed. There was a small sticky note, reading, "Feel free to sleep on the bed!", accomponied by a small smiley face. He smiled, climbing underneath the covers after putting the sticky note on the bedside table.
Daniel plugged up his phone and checked it one last time before rolling over and falling asleep. In the bean bag chair, David had fallen into a restless sleep, full of nightmares about Max, and what he might do to him if he disobeyed and told someone.
These dreams stopped short, though, because David woke up at around 3:00 AM, sitting bolt upright in the bean bag chair. He was glad Daniel wasn't awake to see him cry, and after 20 minutes, he was too tired to cry any more. He fell back into a restless sleep, terrified of the day to come.
6. "Friendly" Faces
The next day, Daniel awoke to Max shaking him. "Wha...-?" he mumbled tiredly as he rolled over to face him.
"Get up. Your phone's been ringing all night and it's annoying."
Daniel huffed at this, but slowly grabbed his phone to see who was calling. At seeing that his mom was calling, he sighed but answered. "Hello?"
"Daniel, why in the hell didn't you come home last night-?!" She yelled through the phone, causing Daniel to pull away, cringing.
"I went to a friend's house. You told me to find somewhere to stay yesterday morning, so I did."
"I don't care, you should've come home! And like you actually made a friend. Who would want to be friends with a screw-up like you?"
Daniel made a small noise of frustration, saying, "I have to go, Mom."
"Fine, but if you're not home by tonight, then tommorow, I'm going to come get you myself.". She pulled away from the phone, but forgot to hang up. This caused Daniel to hear her groan and then mumble, "God, where's my wine-?"
He hung up after that, laying back down with a huff.
Classes had been canceled that day, so Daniel figured that he could sleep. Max stepped out of the room with a soft huff.
A few hours later, the two boys awoke to the smell of fresh pancakes. They gasped happily, and quickly ran down the stairs. They sat down happily, and everyone started to eat. Max would glance over at David, and even began rubbing his thigh during the meal, which made the redhead extremely uncomfortable as he tried scooting away to Daniel.
Max let him go, deciding that he'd have his fun with the male later, once Daniel was asleep. David breathed a soft sigh of relief, thankful that Max had shown at least a little mercy.
~Later that night~
Daniel yawned, laying down on the pallet he and David had laid down. 'I'm going to bed, is that alright?'
David nodded, signing, 'I'll go shower, and then be here later.'
Daniel rolled over, smiling softly. David exited the room, and immidiently gasped sharply. Max stood next to the bathroom door, smirking over at the male.
David slowly walked over, and Max took this opportunity to wrap his arms around David's waist and clamp a hand over his mouth. He said nothing, just silently dragging a struggling David to his room.
David knew that he should've yelled. That he should've done something other than just kick his legs around, but he couldn't get himself to move. He was drug into Max's room and thrown on the bed. After that, everything went dark.
The next morning, David awoke to.pain immidiently blossoming throughout his waist and back. He moved to stand, but realized something was around him. His eyes widened and his stomach lurched when he realized where he was. He was naked and in Max's bed. He felt bile rise in his throat, and he bolted out of the bed and grabbed his clothes.
He quickly dressed, running back to his room and to the safety of Daniel. He shook the other awake, tears brimming in his eyes. Daniel rolled over, signing, 'David, what's wrong-?'
David didn't answer, only pulling the other into a tight hug. Daniel assumed what had happened, judging by the shaky state he was in, and how he had put his clothes on backwards. He began gently rubbing David's back, promising himself that, no matter what, he would make sure Max never hurt David again.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sorry for the short chapter, and for the long break-
> I plan on trying to update more, so you can look forward to that! Also, thank all of you so much for all the nice comments, Kudos, and for being so patient with me!
7. Daniel's Plan
David awoke to find himself in another bed, one that he was familiar with. He began panicking, until he realized that the room he was in this time was much safer than the prison Max had previously trapped him in.
He was back in his own room, and the blond next to him was asleep, gently cradling David in his arms. He smiled a little, realizing that in here with Daniel, he felt safe, and protected. He cuddled up to Daniel, trying to only think about how much he enjoyed laying here with him, and not about what Max had done.
After about half an hour, Daniel awoke with a soft yawn. He noticed that David was awake, and he signed, 'Good morning, David.'
This made the redhead turn, smiling softly at Daniel as he signed, 'Good morning.' |
20b7f313e20d4e5a9a32eda8e807be84 | ['57211ab2ab0646edb8893ee01efa5783'] | > OMG it got long, yes! I feel accomplished! Sorry if it tugged at your heart strings at all.
5. HunterHawk
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Clint Barton and Dean Winchester.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sorry it took me so long. This is my favorite pairing evah, so it should be long~! Their song is I Bet My Life by Imagine Dragons. I made a video for them with that song on YouTube, if you wanted to go see it. Someone asked for Sam/Bobbi, so I think when I write that one, it’ll be this chapter from Sam’s 3rd person limited POV. For HunterSepticEye, it’ll be the sequel to this and pretend they’re in a threesome and not just them. This is set way before Avengers.
Dean had been caught by a government agency called SHIELD. He sat in the interrogation room of their headquarters on the ground, and he was itching to get out. The door opened in front of him, and he looked up to see a slightly aging agent. “My name is Phil Coulson. I’m looking to give you a job, Dean Winchester.”
Dean blinked in surprise. “Um… what?”
“There are things out there, things we don’t know how to get rid of. Things you’ve been getting rid of since you were young.” Phil said, sitting down across from him. “You… you want to give me a job… that’s already my job?”
“And pay you for it. You can teach some of our agents how to get rid of these monsters. A Director of your own division, if you prove yourself.”
Dean leaned back. He didn’t like that. He didn’t want to work for the government, he never did trust them. But… he could help so many people, and getting payed didn’t sound that bad. He should really be consulting Sam about this…
“Where’s my brother?”
“Sam? He’s in the interrogation room next door. Did you need to talk to him about this?” Dean nodded, and Sam was being brought into the room.
“Do we do it?” Dean asked, unsure. “I say we do. I don’t see why not. I mean, we already do what their asking for, and we can train more people who actually want this to fight back against the demons. And we’re getting paid.”
Dean mulled over this as Sam stared at him. “… ok.” Dean said finally. The door opened to a man in a black trench coat and an eyepatch. “That’s good. If you would come with me, you can meet Maria, who can tell you all you need to know.”
That was 7 months ago. As of now, Dean was seated at his unofficial desk at Headquarters. Since his job caused him to move around a lot, whenever he was here, he was stuck at this very desk.
“Dean!” Maria yelled, coming up to him. “Yeah, Maria?” Dean asked, looking up at his best friend. After those 7 months, he and Maria had clicked. Sam had found his soulmate here, Bobbi, and while Maria knew who her soulmate was, she wasn’t allowed to see him as herself because she had found him undercover as a Newscaster from Canada.
“You’ll never guess who’s here! Black Widow and Hawkeye!” She said excitedly. Dean was the only one that Maria acted this way in front of. “Will I get to meet them?” Dean asked. He had always thought they were both hot, but Hawkeye was beautiful. Astounding.
Dean nearly sighed. “I don’t know. Do you want me to pull some strings to make sure you do?” Maria asked. “Nah, its fine Maria. If I meet them, I meet them.”
“They’re some of the most infamous agents here. Like spy celebrities. You really-“ Maria tried, before Dean cut her off in a firm voice. “It’s fine.”
Mari huffed and nodded, before leaving to go back to her post. Dean and her would meet up at their usual restaurant and get drunk together, as they always did at the end of the day.
Dean was back to looking over his computer boredly, giving a sigh. He hated desk work, he didn’t have much to do anyway. He couldn’t wait for the next mission where he was needed would come up.
He didn’t even do regular Salt and Burns anymore, those were delegated to the lower level agents.
“Not doing much work, are you?”
Dean stiffened. Those… those were his words! He looked up to see none other than Hawkeye.
“Doing more work than you seem to be doing.”
Clint scoffed. “You don’t know what I’m doing.” Realization dawned on him. “Wait, what did you say?”
“We have each other’s words, don’t we?”
Clint pulled up his shirt so that Dean’s scribble was visible on his washboard abs.
Dean held his wrist up so that Clint could see the words in Clint’s handwriting as well.
Clint read it for a moment, before stepping forward. “You’re name?”
“Dean Winchester. Head of the DAKOM division. I don’t even get a cool acronym.” Clint chuckled and put his hands in his pockets. “What does it mean?”
“Dark Arts and Killing of Monsters.” Clint smiled at him. “So, my soulmate is head of a division.”
Dean smiled. “My soulmate is an infamous archer and spy. I think I’m alright with that.”
Clint chuckled and leaned forward, grabbing him by his shirt and softly pulling him up so they were kissing.
“Hey, Dean, I-!” Maria’s voice suddenly stopped, and the 2 men looked to her. She was red in the face, eyes wide in shock. “I… I’m so… what?!”
“I found my soulmate.” Dean said to her softly. She swallowed. “I’m just going to leave now, ok?” She squeaked, before turning and running off.
“You know Maria?” Clint asked, knees on either side of Dean’s hips. “Mhm, she’s my best friend.” Dean answered smoothly. “You like it here at SHIELD?” Clint asked. | bfdac3fe4464418e8ac2ba0b0280804b | ['57211ab2ab0646edb8893ee01efa5783'] | Lane straightened with an open mouth and jumped out.
“Fudge muffins, she does!” He gave a… curse? Sort of…
Lane used his own sonic to force the lift down and he deadlocked it.
“No, Lane!” He heard them yell up, but he stayed put to guard the lift. The lock on the door disengaged and Lane jumped harshly, pulling out his purple sonic as the 2 armed guards pointed their guns at him.
“Psych!” Lane yelled, disengaging the guns with his sonic.
“Oh, we can’t have that.” Miss Foster said, a blank look on her face. She pulled her sonic pen out and pointed it to the lift, before Lane tackled her to the ground and threw the sonic pen over the roof, it landing in the lift.
“Why you-!” Miss Foster nearly cursed before pushing Lane off and standing.
“Get him.” She deadpanned, before an armed guard hit him in the head with the butt of his gun, and it was all that was needed to send Lane into unconsciousness.
“We need to go and save him!” Wade cried when the sonic pen fell to the lift, and it stopped.
“No, no, what happened?!” The Doctor yelled, and tried to open the windows, but Miss Foster deadlocked the building.
“I can’t get it open!” The Doctor yelled, sonicking the window more feverishly.
“Well, then let’s smash it!” Wade suggested, grabbing the wrench from the floor and hitting the window over and over again, but it didn’t open.
Miss Foster watched them with a smile, before opening Lane’s shirt and grabbing the sonic from his pocket, lighting the wire on an almost fire.
“Oh, shit, she’s burning the cable! No, Lane, where is he?!” The Master cried.
The cable snapped and threw the people in it to the side. The Master grabbed a hold of the side of the lift and stayed in the car with the Doctor. Wade jumped up and grabbed the other wire, standing on the top of the lift. Donna slid down and held onto the wire holder at the bottom.
“DONNA!” Wade and the Doctor screamed to her in panic.
“DOCTOR, WADE!” Donna squealed back in fear.
“Hold on!” The Master cried back, and Donna glared at him, yelling back in anger, “I am!”
The Master and Doctor tried to pull Donna up to the car lift, but she didn’t get pulled up very far. “DOCTOR!”
Wade looked up to see Miss Foster going to the other wire and point Lane’s sonic at the wire.
He automatically grabbed the sonic pen from the lift and used it on Lane’s sonic. It sparked and hurt Miss Foster’s hand, and she dropped it. Wade caught the sonic and climbed the wire to open the window.
“This is all your guys’ faults! We should have stayed at home!!!” Donna yelled up at Wade.
“Hold on, mom, I’ll get you up!”
“… Mom?” The Doctor asked.
Donna gave a slight shrug before gasping when the movement strained her hands.
Wade finally got in and rushed into the room he had been tied up in before, but stopped. “What the hell are you still doing here?!” He asked her loudly.
“I’m a journalist.” Was her answer.
Wade rolled his eyes and grabbed Donna’s legs.
“AAH! GET OFF!”
“Mom, stop your kicking, I’m trying to save you!”
“Oh, right…”
Wade pulled her in and used the sonic pen to pull the lift down so as to save the Doctor and the Master.
“Now, we better go find Lane.”
“And you, do yourself a favor and get out now.” The Doctor told Penny before the group ran off.
Penny thought about it again, then sighed, grabbed the papers, and ran out the room.
The Doctor put his hand up to stop the rest of the group when they ran into Miss Foster, the 2 armed guards, and Lane being dragged on his knees by one of them, blood drying on his left temple.
“Lane!” The Doctor cried.
“Oh, he’s fine, the least of your worries right now. At last.” She added suddenly, taking her glasses off.
“Hello~!” Donna said.
“Nice to meet you, I’m the Doctor.”
“The Master.”
“You know me!” Wade added.
“The Quintuplets in Crime.”
The Master suddenly snorted in laughter.
“And evidently off-worlders, judging by your sonic technology.” Miss Foster added.
“Oh, right, I still have that sonic pen of yours.” Wade said smugly, twirling it in his fingers. “I like it, it’s very sleek.” Wade showed them.
“Kinda sleek.” The Doctor admitted.
“Definitely sleek.” Donna added.
“If you were to sign your real name, what would the paper say?” The Master asked.
“Matron Cofelia of the Five-Straighten Classabindi Nursery Fleet, Intergalactic Class.” She answered truthfully, and the Master’s eyebrows shot up, mouth open slightly.
“A wet-nurse.” The Doctor clarified.
“Oh.” The Master scowled at his awe of the title when all it had meant was ‘a wet-nurse’.
“Using humans as surrogates.”
“I’ve been employed by the Adiposian first family to foster a new generation after their breeding planet was lost.”
“Another planet lost…” Wade whispered, remembering the conversation he had had with Lane a few months ago.
Awhile later, Lane awoke groggily to find himself alone in a dark room, struggling to breath. He groaned in pain and pulled himself off the floor, throwing open the door and rushing down the flight of stairs he found in front of him, getting to the closet that the Master, Wade, and Donna surrounded, the Doctor inside trying to stop the full immersion.
“It won’t work, I only have one gold capsule!”
“And I kind of lost the other one.” Lane admitted, jumping when they turned and he was attacked with hugs.
“You’re ok! That’s good. But it’s going to turn all the humans’ bodies into fat monsters and there’s nothing I can do to stop it!” The Doctor yelled, real fear in his eyes.
Lane looked between them, mind working in overdrive. |
171dd241a7844ad78be74d96a5c4ab6f | ['572525d728ff4329a54a2e41c2dbce4a'] | “This is good,” she said, but Octavia didn’t look at all reassured. Her voice spoke of murder. “If you’re going to be there, you might as well make yourself useful. You’ll be my double agent. Rate the drinks, get to know the workers, find their weaknesses.”
Octavia’s forehead wrinkled. “You’re talking about this like it’s a battle, Clarke. It’s only a coffee shop. You’ve still got the best food.”
“But I _did_ have the best coffee. This isn’t a battle. This is war.”
She rose from the couch and stalked to the door, resisting the urge to take the coffee cup on the counter and slam it into the wall. “Text me whenever you visit. I want a steady stream of updates while you’re there and I want pictures of all the employees pronto. I can’t go in, I’ll be recognized.” She paused when she stepped out, and peeked her head back through the door.
“Wait a second. Who is Lexa?”
** Day 15 **
That morning, Clarke woke before dawn for the first time since high school. Octavia had sent her ratings of all the coffee she’d tried, and Clarke winced with every 9 or 10 she saw. She’d gotten pictures of Anya (the girl Raven had bedded several nights before, apparently), Indra (who looked like she could kill a man with her pinky, and Clarke noted to keep her distance from her), and Gustus, who looked nearly as terrifying as Indra. Lexa - the owner, or so Lincoln said - kept to herself in the back, choosing to run behind the scenes most of the time. Octavia has only seen the back of her. She studied all the pictures and the descriptions of the drinks.
She spent hours trying new drinks, adding and subtracting ingredients until she found something that struck her palette. She added a few recipes to the menu as well, and placed a chalkboard sign out front. She knelt in front of it, adding a drawing of a coffee cup in the corner.
_Breakfast at Clarke Station: New Hours 8 am - 5 pm_
_Omelets, French Toast, Fritters, Cinnamon Rolls, and More!_
_Stop by the Station today!_
“I do believe Coffee Grinders is still open an hour earlier than your restaurant,” said a voice, and she startled, knocking the sign and herself to the hard ground. She scrambled back up, taking the offered hand before she’d even looked at the person. They helped pull her up, and she found herself inches from-
Well, damn.
Those were the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen.
A quick glance around her face led to a breathtaking picture - green eyes, cheekbones that shouldn’t be legal, brown hair that was pulled back in a way that brought out the soft lines of her jaw. Her eyebrows were thin and raised, and her lips, pink and bare and a little chapped-
Oh. They were pulled down in a frown.
She brought herself back to the present and took a step back, letting go of the woman’s hand. “I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t hear you walk up.” She stood up the sign and ran a hand through her hair to fix it. She was a mess. Of course, _of course_ she had to make a fool of herself in front of the most gorgeous girl she’d ever seen. “I planned on adding breakfast before the store ever entered the picture,” she lied smoothly. “Coffee Grinders is an annoyance, but it’s not any sort of competition. This business has been open for five years. That place began two weeks ago.”
The girl’s frown deepened. “Is that so.” Her voice was flat, unamused.
She smiled, trying to move on before she was offended her further. Clearly she was a customer. “I’m Clarke Griffin. Here, as a thank you.” She pulled a wrapped muffin out of the basket the chalk was in. It was still warm. “It’s one of my new creations. Cinnamon Swirl.”
The woman said nothing, but carefully unwrapped the muffin and took a small bite. She watched it crumble in her mouth, her tongue swiping out to catch a few pieces, and she thought she might have died just then. The brunette’s eyes fell closed for a moment, chewing slowly to take in the flavor. “Interesting,” she said, but said nothing more. She didn’t put away the muffin, though.
“Maybe you’d like to come in? We’re not open for another 20 minutes. I could cook you some breakfast? On me, of course.” She leaned in slightly as she spoke, regaining her confidence, and the woman’s face turned a lovely shade of pink for a brief moment.
“I think that would be rather inappropriate,” she stuttered out, closing up more and more with each passing second. “I must get back to work.”
She didn’t falter at the rebuttal, going for a gentle second try. “I can make a mean omelet in 5 minutes tops. You won’t regret it.” But the stranger was already shaking her head and stepping back, crossing her arms tight over her chest.
“I am flattered,” she said, and the last word came out like it was curse. “But I must say no. It was, ah, a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Griffin.”
Knowing when to call it quits - _and surely there would be another chance in the future, this wasn’t a large city after all_ \- she dipped her head and stepped back, closer to her cafe. “Great to meet you too.” She turned to the shop, then faltered and glanced back, watching her cross the empty road and speaking once she was safely on the other side. “Can I at least have your name?” | 7b53ec2e997447a0bf19e87e8c555379 | ['572525d728ff4329a54a2e41c2dbce4a'] | ( _You say having feelings makes me weak, but you’re weak for hiding them._ The words had bounced around in her mind all day.They were far too similar to the doubts she had in the quiet of the night, and they had been wrapped up in a bow by the very girl that made her want to give it all up. Too much, too much, too much.)
She’s leaning forward before she can stop herself, and their lips meet in the softest of touches and the gentlest of promises. It is everything she wanted and yet not nearly enough - but enough for now, enough to loosen all of her muscles and put a few million flutters in her stomach.
( _Maybe life should be about more than surviving,_ Clarke had said, and she had taken that to heart. This was not surviving. This was living, this was thriving in the best of ways.)
She kissed Clarke and she knew peace.
The soft rebuttal did not hurt - Finn had died such a short time ago, and love had no place to bloom in the harsh winters of war. There would be time for that after, and when they exited the tent to stand before their people, side by side, there was a sweet sense of victory in her veins.
Stories opened up before her, tales of the great Heda and Skai Heda, the two warrior women who took down the terrors of the land with warriors but also with friends. She itched for a novel to read, and she promised herself to build a library in Polis when this was all over. A great building for people of all ages. They would learn how to make more books, and she would write her own stories for Clarke to read as they laid in bed together.
She thought Anya might like her decision for once.
The war had finally come to a head, and she had never felt more alive.
(Once upon a time a girl loved a girl who had come from the stars and held all of their beauty. Lexa did not need the skies anymore. They had given her Clarke.)
She hears that the Mountain Men are still destroyed without the help of the _Trikru_. All of them, every single one wiped out. No one is in contact with _Skaikru_ , and for good reason, but it causes disruption and tales among villagers. Rumors spread far and fast. One thing is decided - the great _Skai Heda_ was certainly behind it. She did nothing to stop this theory, because she was almost positive of the same.
Scouts reported hundreds of bodies being disposed of from within the mountain, but no one spots Clarke.
(She chokes on worry some days. She wonders if she has lost her second chance, and she wonders what Anya would say to her now.)
She had not slept a full night since her betrayal. Memories of Clarke’s face when she realized what happened- they plagued her.
( _Don’t do this._ Her voice had cracked. Her expression was much like her own when she received Costia’s braid. It cut her deeper than even she expected.)
She did not regret saving her people. She had thought with her head, not with her heart, and she fully supported that choice. She had told Clarke of her opinions, and she had a feeling that eventually, the blonde would understand, if she didn’t already.
But she didn’t tuck away her emotions, nor did she refuse to think about the starlit warrior who had snatched her heart away. She found the balance between her head and her heart and she tried to keep it there despite the weariness she felt when she came home to an empty bed.
(Patience. Patience.)
She collects all the books she can find, and she pours her energy into the new library with every free second she has. Her people help her, and together they build a structure worthy of the gods.
She pays an artist to paint the wood ceiling in the image of the night sky, but the walls are left blank. Those would be reserved for Clarke, who would fill them up with her own stories in the way she had done with her own rocks. She begins reading again. She covets blank papers and writes words on them in careful ink patterns. Some in English, some in Trigedaslang, but all of it about heroines better than she ever would be.
She sleeps in the library sometimes, curled up in blankets. In a rare moment or two, she feels every bit of the girl she had been over a decade ago, awake when the other children slept, and she thinks about Clarke.
Clarke would come back. Eventually, and not on the best of terms, but she would return.
That was a wait she could handle.
(Once upon a time, there was a girl who realized the stars did nothing but twinkle. Fate was nonexistent, and people gained what they earned. She planned on gaining much.)
(The stars twinkled on.)
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks for reading! There is a sequel piece to this from Clarke's POV, but I wasn't sure if people would be interested. Let me know if you are...? |
2c4416ec21074f3b9884af41c966fdd7 | ['573d9b93f9e9472a913492d6a7d74fe0'] | “Remind me to ask him to teach me how to fold these planes,” Chanyeol whispers to Jongdae. Chanyeol stands up and looks out the window to see Runway Model pushing his glasses up before leaving his seat to do something.
"What are you waiting for, Park?" Baekhyun asks, appearing next to the lanky day-dreamer to poke the latter when he takes too long to send the paper plane. The latter shakes his head and sends the paper plane off to the Runway Model’s cubicle on the fifth floor. Chanyeol and his colleagues wait as the paper plane flies and ends up on Model’s chair, a few seconds before he returns to his seat. Runway Model eyes the plane for a moment before picking it up. When he unfolds it, instead of regular letter and words, symbols reveal themselves to him. The Model scratches his head, perplexed by the short little sheet music Chanyeol composed. Meanwhile, Park Chanyeol continues hitting his head on his table. He realises that some people can't read musical notes, and that Runway Model might just be one of those people.
✈
Sehun walks to his best friend with a sheet of creased paper with something written on it.
"Jongin," Sehun tugs at his best friend's sleeve, earning himself a hum of acknowledgement from the intern.
"What is it?" Jongin replies without looking up from his laptop. From the looks of it, Jongin has some errors in his codes to fix that are more important than whatever it is that Sehun came to bother him about.
"What do you think this means?" Sehun shows Jongin the unfolded paper plane.
"That thing," Jongin says, turning his chair around to point at a symbol that reminds Sehun of a snail, "Looks like a fancy ampersand,"
"I don't think that's an ampersand," Sehun comments, Jongin only shrugs in response.
"I don't know everything in this world man," he swivels his chair to continue focusing on his codes.
Sehun hums in agreement but decides that he can't ignore the paper plane, not when it has some foreign language on it. He starts back towards his cubicle when he hears soft twangs coming from one of the nearby cubicles, and decides to take a detour. He walks down a little further to one of his seniors who is busy fiddling with the tuning pegs on an instrument that looks like a tiny guitar.
"Yixing-hyung," Sehun calls out as he knocks on his hyung's cubicle wall.
The man looks up and flashes Sehun a smile that showcases the dimples on his cheeks.
"Did you need any help, Sehun?" the man asks as he puts his tiny guitar on his table.
"I want to ask you two things, hyung"
"Shoot."
"Number one: what's that tiny guitar thing called again?"
"A ukulele." Yixing chuckles. "Haven't you asked this before?"
"I forget sometimes," Sehun replies, scratching the back of his head.
"What's the other thing you wanted to ask me?" Yixing raises his eyebrow.
Sehun holds up the creased paper to Yixing, "Hyung, do you know what these are?"
"Those," Yixing says as he gestures to the writing on the paper plane, "are musical notes."
"Can you read them, hyung?" Sehun asks.
"Yeah, do you want me to teach you?"
Sehun nods, perhaps a bit too eagerly, because Yixing chuckles.
“Can we start tomorrow? I’ve got nothing to do,” Sehun begs. Yixing tells the excited intern that he'll bring his portable keyboard to work tomorrow, since he has nothing to do either. "I can also teach you how to play the keyboard," Yixing offers.
Sehun swears he can feel his pupils shape-shifting into stars at the thought of being able to play music.
After all, the only music in Sehun's life has always the rhythmic tapping of keyboards.
☁
Sehun walks into the office the next day with a grin on his face, and greets all his seniors and his fellow interns with chipper hellos. His smile grows a little when he passes Yixing's cubicle to see a small keyboard on his table. Sehun’s smile turns into a laugh when a frowning Jongin walks into the office with several cups of coffee in his hands.
"Did you have fun at the coffee shop today, Jongin?" Sehun jests, earning a glare from intern.
"Shut up," Jongin mouths at his best friend as he hands out the coffee cups to their seniors. When Jongin gets closer to Sehun’s cubicle, Sehun sticks out his tongue, and Jongin retaliates with another glare as he hands the last cup of coffee to Sehun.
Sehun chuckles at his friend. "I love it when it's not my turn to go on a coffee run,” Sehun says as he takes a sip from his cup.
“I hope you choke on your coffee.”
Sehun opens his window before making his way to Yixing's cubicle to remind him about the music lessons. He finds the musician plugging the portable keyboard to his laptop. Yixing turns around, surprised by Sehun's presence.
"Oh, I was just about to call you over so we can start on some basic music knowledge," Yixing says as he produces a piece of paper with 5 lines drawn on it, much like the ones on the paper plane yesterday.
"Bring a chair over, Sehun-ah," Yixing instructs him. Sehun pulls up a chair and sits next to Yixing.
"Let's start with the basics," Yixing says, taking a pencil out from a container filled with stationery.
"First off, this is a staff," Yixing explains. "This helps you figure out what notes you need to play." Sehun only nods, while Yixing draws the snail-shaped symbol at the start of the staff.
"This is a treble clef. There are several more clefs that exists, but I think you only need to know this one."
"Jongin thinks it's a fancy ampersand," Sehun comments. Yixing bursts out laughing.
"So what is it for?" Sehun inquires when Yixing finally stops laughing. | ee3e02d2fb4b4a6aa321445018de7108 | ['573d9b93f9e9472a913492d6a7d74fe0'] | Summer
**Author's Note:**
> repost bc im dumb
Sehun's eyes fluttered open and the digital clock on the nightstand told him it was 4:00 AM.
He tried to drift back into his deep slumber but he struggled to keep his eyes closed.
He sighed softly and sat with his back against the headboard of the bed.
Beside him, Jongin was sleeping peacefully, his chest moving up and down with steady movements.
Sehun smiled as Jongin snuggled closer to him in search of warmth.
For a while Sehun stared at his lover's face. It was calm and relaxed, one of Sehun's favourite version of Jongin. Sehun almost grabbed his ever-present sketchpad and pencil on the nightstand but he had another idea.
"Jongin," he whispered.
The boy only stirred in his sleep, not wanting to wake up.
Sehun tried again, this time shaking his lover lightly.
"Jonginie, wake up."
Jongin only replied with sleepy incohorent noises.
Sehun shook Jongin harder, the latter's eyes fluttered open.
"Jonginie, let's go watch the sun rise." Sehun said.
"But the sunrise is just like the sunset but in reverse, and we've seen the sun sink into the horizon before," the older protested.
"Oh Jonginie, come on. You know it's not the same." Sehun said with a pout (a trick Baekhyun-hyung taught him that he says will never fail)
Jongin groaned as Sehun got up and dragged him out of the bed and the apartment.
Their apartment building was in the middle of Seoul, so from the roof they could see twinkling lights of cars and traffic lights blinking red, yellow and green on the streets
Jongin let out a jaw-breaking yawn as Sehun laid out their picnic blanket on the roof in preparation to watch the sun rise.
"How long till the sun rises, Sehun-ah?" Jongin asked sleepily.
"I'm not sure, let's just wait." Sehun answered.
Jongin only nodded and a few moments later he was fast asleep in Sehun's lap.
Sehun only chuckled at Jongin's ability to fall asleep so easily before draping a blanket on the latter.
Sehun almost drifted back into his sleep while waiting for the sun to rise. His excitement woke him up when he saw the sky being painted from violet and dark blue to warm peaches and soft pink by invisible hands in the sky.
"Jonginie, look. The sun is rising!" he said with child-like excitement.
Jongin awoke confused but when he gathered his wits, he cracked a grateful smile.
"You were right, this is different from the sunset." the older boy said before reclaiming his space on Sehun's lap and falling asleep again.
"I told you so," Sehun whispered, planting a soft kiss on Jongin's head.
Sehun gazed in awe at the pulchritude of the sunrise against Seoul's skyline and how beautiful Jongin looked, bathed in the early rays of dawn.
As the sky grew lighter by the minute, Sehun's eyes grew heavier and heavier.
Sehun tried to shake Jongin awake but to no avail. So he decided to lie down on the blanket with Jongin still sleeping in his lap. Soon, Sehun fell asleep, lulled by Jongin's steady breathing.
(And so the two young lovers stayed in their halcyon little love nest, sleeping peacefully while the rest of Seoul wakes up to prepare for the day.) |
ccdd1bfe641a452fa57a741a51a8b051 | ['574329308a04456ea588f397f2d039cb'] | J has a bandage tightly wound around his left palm today, and his cap matches his apron. He smiles when Alex walks up to the counter. The cafe smells more strongly than usual of coffee, and the music floating through the air is something soft and tranquil. It isn't as busy as it is earlier in the morning, but several groups of students cluster around some of the tables by the window.
“Hey there, how are you doing?” _Is that a generic greeting, or a ‘hey cutie, you seem to come here often’ greeting?_
“Are you okay?” Alex asks immediately, gesturing towards his hand. “Sorry. I mean, fine.” Fuck. His shoulders tense up in embarrassment. He needs to learn to watch his mouth. Fortunately, J doesn't seem bothered by the question. He flexes his fingers and drums them against the countertop a few times.
“I am. Just the trials of teaching the new hire to pull decent espresso shots. I like to think of it as a battle scar.” J chuckles and cocks his head to one side. “Hey, you want a free -” he grabs a cup Alex hadn’t noticed and checks the scribbled notes on the side. “Hazelnut latte? I messed up and used 2% instead of fat free so I couldn't sell it. It should still be nice and hot.” _I bet it's hot_ , Alex thinks. He meets J’s warm, brown eyes.
“Yeah! Free drink, thanks, I would love that. First time for everything, right?” Alex shoves a couple of dollar bills into the tip jar anyway and bites his lip. _Play it cool, Hamilton._ J’s eyes widen in excitement.
“First latte? Really? Oh man, you're gonna love it! This is good stuff.” J picks up a pen with his right hand and clumsily draws several exclamation marks on the cup. “There. Best I can do under the circumstances. Have a good day, alright?”
It’s the perfect drinking temperature, and it's absolutely delicious.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> There is historical evidence for Laurens' right-handedness... but I found a conversation on tumblr (from user john-laurens, maybe?) that suggested him being left-handed but, as was common at the time, forced to use his right hand instead. So, he’s a lefty here.
>
> Again, thanks for reading!
5. Chapter 5
“...I’m not sure if he’s taller than me, though,” Alex mused. “He’s always behind that counter and the floor may well be raised, or have thick mats for support, or-”
“ _You need to stop._ ”
“Oh, I’m sorry, was I talking too loud?”
“I’m not my sister, Alexander. Eliza may have the patience of a saint to listen to you drone on about your barista all day, but I can only handle so much of it. At some point, you need to get a grip.”
“He isn’t _my_ barista. However, that's the plan. I don’t have a plan yet... I need a plan. I-” Angelica sighs. They’re just about to part ways and head to class, and Alex had been rambling without realizing it. She's the type of person to call him out on it, and she is doing just that. He knows he deserves it. “Sorry. Really. I’m getting carried away.”
“Be careful, Alexander. You’re falling in love with this perfect boy you’ve constructed. Real people will never live up to your imagination.” She fixes him with an intense stare and Alex immediately feels a twinge of guilt. But he can’t agree with her, of course, and instead shoots her a fake smile.
“You don’t need to worry about me, Angelica, I can handle myself. You sound like Aaron... Preaching what I might call unnecessary amounts of caution.” To be honest, Alex isn't entirely sure that he can handle himself in this situation, but he has a lot of practice at flying by the seat of his pants and coming out relatively unscathed. This is no different. He's confident in his ability to figure shit out as he goes.
“I’m just worried that you’ll never be satisfied.” Angelica pauses, still staring at him. “I gotta go.” She slings her book bag over her shoulder and strides away without looking back.
Contrary to what may be popular belief, Alex is somewhat self-aware. He knows that he has a “strong personality” and that he often allows himself to be carried away with fixations and obsessions and problems that need solving. He knows that he can be hard to deal with sometimes... or often. His personality evokes decisive results, with some people abandoning him at the earliest opportunity, and others quickly becoming friends.
His romantic history is less than impressive. He and Eliza had shared a few disastrous dates in his first year at school and they’d both been relieved when their awkward attempts at dating had settled into a close friendship. She’s too good for him, anyway, he muses. Since her, he’s nursed a handful of dead-end crushes, but he’s never actually pursued the objects of his affection. J feels different, but Angelica is right. He doesn’t know anything about the other man. What does he even have to base a monumental crush off of? A collection of doodles and the memory of a thrilling smile?
This was never meant to be a Thing, but he’s definitely let this infatuation get away from him. Hopefully, J is the kind of person who will find his quirks bearable. Hopefully he doesn’t find Alex grating and annoying. All Alex can do is hope, really. Speaking of hoping, he hopes that he actually gets to know J one day instead of admiring him from across a counter.
Well, it’s disheartening when he thinks about it like that.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This was honestly just supposed to be a little fic about the Instagram thing, but it's sort of gotten off topic - Oh well!
> Also, I can't promise that Alex will stop moping over this crush any time soon. I'm being indulgent (sorry!).
> | 27693a071b814edda5304fcb0cb78588 | ['574329308a04456ea588f397f2d039cb'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
* Inspired by LINK by LINK.
> This is inspired by fihli’s wonderful fic Sons of Libertea (go check it out if you're not already reading it!), where John draws little pictures on all the coffee cups. And then I got carried away imagining a kind of pathetic Instagram love letter from Alex to the barista he’s infatuated with, and this happened.
It starts with a takeaway cup of black coffee.
Realistically, Alex doesn't have the financial means to support a caffeine habit on the go. He should be brewing individual cups of instant coffee in travel mugs and toting them around campus all day in order to save money. Living in New York, even if he’s not in the city centre, is far from cheap. But a long-standing caffeine addiction and a taste, however irresponsible, for some of life’s finer things lead him into The Federalist several times a week.
(Truthfully, the quiet, freckled barista who works mornings doesn't hurt either.)
The Federalist is an independent coffee shop a short walk from campus. There isn't really much that distinguishes it from the many others in the area, but the student body is apparently thirsty enough to keep them all in business. After all, caffeine is a powerful motivator. The coffeeshop has an eclectic interior decorated with a mixture of 20th century propaganda posters and 18th century portraits of influential politicians. It's kind of cute, kind of quirky, but still approachable. They make pastries and sandwiches, they make a variety of drinks, they play quiet indie music over the speakers. It’s nice. It's cozy.
Alex first came for the coffee, but - if he's being totally honest - returned for a certain gorgeous barista.
This guy is pretty, okay? He’s slim and compact, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist that’s only accentuated by the red apron he wears while working. It looks good on him, but probably anything would look good on him. Probably nothing would look even better, but Alex is trying not to be a creep.
His hair is always tied up under a baseball cap, but Alex is sure it’s glorious. It’s curly and from what he’s seen, looks very soft. He has the cutest ears that stick out a little, especially when he wears a cap, and has a couple of shiny silver studs along the rim of one ear. Not that Alex has noticed, or fixated on them, or anything weird like that. He wore a hairnet once, curls tucked up under it, and looked absolutely ridiculous. Alex swooned anyway. He has broad hands that Alex can’t help but notice as J takes his money or hands him a warm cup of coffee. There’s something unique about his good looks.
So Alex, who is technically a grown-ass man, definitely has a silly schoolboy crush. What’s worse is that Alex doesn’t even know the guy’s name. He wears a name tag pinned to his red apron, but it just says J. The rest of the letters are obscured by a turtle-shaped sticker.
The Federalist quickly becomes a part of Alex’s normal university routine. Some days he shows up with friends, some days he comes alone, some days he makes coffee at home to save money, but on the days he visits the cafe he keeps an eye out for J. Alex always tries not to stare as he stands in a long line of fidgeting students awaiting their fix. He always stares anyway.
Instead of writing Alex’s name on the cup, J always scribbles a small drawing on it before making the drink. The first one was a little hand giving a thumbs-up. On various days Alex has received a stylized sun wearing aviator sunglasses, a number of turtles, several different fish, a little hamburger, a squirrel… He might be going through the emoji keyboard at random, actually, and drawing inspiration for his simple little drawings. Alex is pretty sure he’s seen J do it for other customers, so it’s not like he’s _special_ or anything. But it does make him feel special.
He also can’t seem to get rid of any of the coffee cups J’s drawn on. They’re too adorable. Instead, he totes them around campus all day and leaves them lined up in his small apartment, putting them on display in their living room.
Come to think of it, he’s definitely in too deep.
Shit.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This is my first time ever posting a work here, so I'd love to know what you think, but I'd also like you to be gentle. That being said, let me know if you spot anything that looks off! I'm still trying to work out how the formatting works.
2. Chapter 2
Alex’s long-suffering friends bear the brunt of his friendship in many ways, not the least of which being the fallout from his ridiculous crush. Hercules, who he shares a small apartment with, is the first to snap.
**Hercules Mulligan:**
> Alex
> While I appreciate your newfound interest in “modern art”
> I will not have you turning my apartment into a TRASH SHRINE
**A. Ham:**
> Thats a lil uncharitable, dont you think?
**Hercules Mulligan:**
> Your texting is embarrassing.
> Would you like me to remind you whose name is on the lease?
**A. Ham:**
> we both signed that lease. my name’s on there. I have a copy.
**Hercules Mulligan:**
> Who pays the rent?
**A. Ham:**
> BOTH OF US
**Hercules Mulligan:**
> Who owns the place???
**A. Ham:**
> dont play
> we both know that your uncle does
> you cant take credit for the good fortune of having a local, property-owning relative, that’s unfair
**Hercules Mulligan:**
> My god
> You never know how to let things go, do you?
> Arguing with you is like smacking my head repeatedly into a tiny wall.
**A. Ham:**
> *kissy face emoji*
**Hercules Mulligan:** |
568b51be156a43069032dde306d9ed46 | ['5762514bcdbf421cb9bf4e75c6e109d2'] | Looking back to the face. It was very horse like in shape. Along with the body. If not being only skin and bones. The eyes creep him out though.. Black as darkness. Only letting that of the yellow slitted pupils to pop out more. Maroon colored horns came out of it’s head. Two ears folded back. One ear having an tag with: Experiment 69 on it.. Grey main. A scar over the nose like a ring..
But those eyes… Ford stared at those eyes. They were Bill’s! But this dragon before him was his friend! Despite the huge change. Ford still recognized him. He gulp as fear took hold. He stared at those eyes. Guilt started to build up as nothing registered in those yellow eyes. Only thing he saw in them was Hate. Hatred, Pain, Sorrow… Sadness.. But mostly hate as the Dragon continued to glare at Ford.
“Stanford?”
Flinching the dragon backed up and started head butting the glass. Using everything in his might to break through. Ford watched as the Dragon continued to headbutt the glass wall. Blood started to show from each hit. A black substance starting to form around the floor. Ford cringed at the sight. He winced when the glass cracked. Another hit. More blood. Ford watched in horror as his former friend continued to ram himself into the glass.
“Stanford stop!!”
Ford felt tears prickly at the corner of his eyes. He looked to his friend. The dragon swayed blood and black goop coming from his head eyes and mouth. The dragon huffed as he reared back and slammed into the glass again and again. Cracks growing wider.
Ford closed his eyes once more. What did his Parallel Self did to this dragon?! Why was he caged up!? Why?! Afterall this dragon done for him. This Ford betrayed his friendship and bond to this Dragon by locking him up!? Ford’s eyes snapped open as glass shards flew by his face. Looking forward and pressing his back against the glass wall behind him. He watched..
The dragon stalked out of the cell. Watching Ford closely. He growled. Stalking his cornered prey. Ford watched on in horror. He didn’t have his weapons.. BUt he didn’t want to hurt his friend.. Even if this is just a Parallel version. The dragon lunged and everything went dark….
* * *
A gasp! Shooting up out of bed a cry escaped his throat as he sat up panting sweat glistened on his forehead. His glasses askew on his face. He huffed trying to calm himself his heart racing as his hand rested on his chest. But not where his heart is. Clenching at the red sweater tightly at his shoulder. Abit of skin was shown and under that cloth of his clothing bared to the world to see was a 6 long gashes going from his shoulder down to his chest.
Ford gasping still looked around alert. Seeing that he is back in his own room. And not a cell eased his mind alittle. Sighing finally calmed down. He looked over seeing the time.. 4:40…
Welp… He’s gonna be awake now.. Sighing Ford got up putting on his boot and looked around.. Fixing his sweater he got up rubbing his head as he left. He thought back to his nightmare and frowned. He made his way to the kitchen and brewed him some coffee. As he leaned against the counter waiting.
His thoughts ran wild from him. He couldn’t chase the image of his friend as an Abyssal Dragon. A Dutch Angel Dragon tainted and touched by pure darkness. Caused by Despair, Pain, Sorrow, any negative emotion and energy. He crossed his arms frowning. His shoulder ached. The wound as far healed into a scar. But a reminder nonetheless as what could’ve been.
Thinking then. He was jealous and angry at his twin. But now… He’s glad for it. Cause if that’s how that world turned out.. How would he… No.. Shaking his head. Ford chased those thoughts away. Stanford was his friend. They’re bonded. He would never do that to him.. Or so he thought. Growling. Ford stood as his coffee finished brewing. He made his cup and made himself outside to clear his mind. He don’t need these thoughts. Don’t need to be thinking them.
Getting outside. Ford sat on the couch where he sipped at his coffee.. Staring at the liquid. Once again. His mind ran wild without him. He sat there remembering the times Stanford had saved him. And where he in return had saved him. The dragon was always there for him when he needed him. And he was there for the dragon as well. Wasn’t he?
Thinking back Ford frowned and an old memory played in his head. At that time. Stanford saved him from getting lost in the woods. But instead of thanking him… He treated him as apart of his research.. When the bunker was made.. He even had the dragon down with some tests and had for a short time deemed him as an experiment. But quickly erased that title as Stanford gave a warning growl.. And the time when Ford himself turned his back on Stanford in his paranoia state of mind…
Ford frown deepened at the memories. Maybe he was destined to betray his friend’s Trust?
Ford looked down to the hot beverage in his hands of which was shaking at the realization of his thoughts.
Stanford may have bonded with Stanley first. But Stan had insisted that the Dragon protect Ford. Stanford still watched over Stan during the 30 years… But also came in search for him. | d7c9d53db67342c28bf7ae0b52fb18a4 | ['5762514bcdbf421cb9bf4e75c6e109d2'] | Looking around. He calculated his path of direction before he chose to walk back the way he came. Only to walk deeper into the forest. It was at this time Ford felt watched. Stopping he looked around seeing nothing. Shrugging he continued to walk.
Unbeknownst to Ford. An invisible being followed him. Walking beside him. The being not seen by the human or the other living things around him. Looked to Ford with curiosity as he tilted it’s head side to side watching the human wonder quite lost grumbling to himself.
With a soft chuckle the being used his energy against Ford’s and guided him to the correct way back home. As he followed the dragon looked forward. He growled and snarled to the Timber Wolves near by. To the Gnomes who got too close. Ford walked and heard some of the growls and had sped up his walking.
His paranoia of being watched heavy on his mind as he tried to find his way back. But the dragon easily kept up with him and had sent an small burst of energy to Ford in hopes of calming him. Which had worked, Ford slowed down. And sighed as he calmed down slowly.
Ford continued to walk. Unknowing of his Dragon friend who walked next to him using their energies to guide Ford home. Night fall was beginning to fall when they finally reached the Shack.
Ford looked ahead and sighed in relief as he ran ahead towards his home. Happy to be back. As he reached the porch. He heard rustling behind him and turned. Expecting “Steve” But was greeted by a Dragon who watched him for the tree lined.
Ford looked on turning fully to the scene ahead of him. Sat watching him was a huge horse like dragon with tattered feathered wings watching him with green eyes as the dragon tilted it’s head his big ears swaying with the movement. Ford took a step forward when the dragon stood.
Turning the dragon goes to walks off. Looking back to Ford. The dragon smiled as his body begin to disappear leaving Ford to stand there awestruck.
Ford grinned as he whispered, “It’s you... You’re back..”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Helpful Critique is Welcomed!
3. Week 3: Forgiveness
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Art piece to go with this Drabble: https://stanford-da-dragon.tumblr.com/post/183032923450/week-3-forgiveness-abit-late-on-posting-been-a
A Better World.
The past 48 hours as been hectic. Coming into another Dimension that is actually an parallel of Earth. One he come to find out and dubbed as “A Better World” Where in this world. His twin took Journal 1 and left with it. He himself wasn’t pushed into the Portal. And here he was seen as an Celebrity Star of Science!
He was excited to see this world. To meet his Parallel Self. But was stopped by an Parallel Version of Fiddleford. His old friend. Taken down by the security guards. Of course his instinct was gonna kick in. He was being captured. Held down. His body told him to fight. And fight he did.
He fought all the way to the glass cells where he was tossed into one of them. Not caring or noticing how the cell next to him was dark. He stood up quickly and banged on the glass growling, snarling to be let out demanding for answers.
The security guards left to let him fume. Ford growled as he looked around. They stripped him of his cloak. His weapons. He was only left to wear his sweater and pants. Pacing. Ford grumbled as his mind ran wild from him. Again not realizing the cell next to him seemed to be mimicking his pacing.
The soft “clacking” sound of his boots was his only company. As he paced. He was mostly jealous now. Angry. His thoughts wondered back to home. His home. He growled thinking of his brother. Thinking how if he just listened he could have this all. If only…
Head snapping up. There was an loud “THUD” sound coming from the darken cell next to his. Frowning Ford as stopped and looked to the darken cell. When suddenly another loud “THUD” came. Rattling the whole glass wall. He didn’t see much other then a grey blurred thing hitting the glass and quickly disappeared into the darkness.
Walking slowly to the other cell. The loud THUDs keep getting louder and hitting harder on the glass. I saw something black pace by this time. As he got closer he peered inside. Only to be greeted with glowing yellow slittled eyes.
Ford screamed in surprised, “BILL!?”
But no reply came. Only the still quiet of those eyes watching. They floated to the air it seemed. Being about 6 feet above ground. A deep rumbling growl came from the other cell. Ford had backed away from the cell as it started to illuminate itself revealing the creature that lay inside. Glaring at Ford.
Ford looked to the creature. It’s fur was black. Grey undertones with darker black markings. The once beautiful feathers been clipped away keeping this creature grounded. Two friller like feathers grew out from the clipped wings with a single eye on them. Blood red on these feathers plus on the 3 on his hind legs. Ford gulped as he looked to the once pawerful tail seeing 3 spikes protruding out sharply. Ford winced when seeing the tip of the tail. It was missing quite alot of fur on the tip. Along of being scared up. It seemed this creature had taken up the habit of chewing his tail pulling out the fur. |
637fe445a763484594e21a017d58837c | ['5779084f135346e4a4ede43095bbbdb5'] | “I’m a friend of your family, Heather. I’ve been looking for you ever since I heard what happened to your father” The man’s voice was very soft and rough, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“You knew my dad?” Heather’s throat tightened and she struggled to keep her voice steady. She met his eyes briefly but then found herself focused on his chin.
The man on the other side of the door smiled wider, “I know your family very well. I would love to take you out to dinner…I have so much I would like to talk to you about.”
Heather shifted uneasily. She didn’t particularly want to talk to a stranger about her father, or anything else for that matter. What’s more, her anxiety had mostly passed, but now she was feeling the stirring between her legs and the sensation of moisture spreading into her already-damp underwear. She still hadn’t put on a bra and she could feel her tight, aching nipples standing out against the fabric of her t-shirt. Talking to someone while she felt this way left her feeling unclean and embarrassed, as though she were walking naked through a garbage pit.
“I’m sorry, but I really don’t have the time to visit. I’ve got plans tonight-”
He raised his hand, gently interrupting her, and leaned forward so that his face was almost touching the doorjamb. He was now directly at eye level with Heather, causing her to focus her attention on his nose. Somehow his smile got even wider than it was before and she could see the chapped skin of his lips crack, exposing wet, red flesh underneath.
“Heather. I understand.” His nostrils flared slightly, as though catching a scent. The tiny gesture sent a horrified shiver through her body. He could smell her. The smell of her sweat, her fear and the smell of her wet, throbbing cunt. It was like he had shoved his head right between her legs and taken a deep breath. Heather wanted to slam the door directly in his face but managed to keep her self-control.
“I-I’m glad. I hope you didn’t have to come far, but I need to get back to work.”
“You’ve grown so much Heather.” The man on the other side of the door spoke slowly, savoring the word ‘grown’ in a way that made Heather feel even more fouled. She imagined that she could feel his words, slimy and warm, crawling across her skin. “So much like her…”
“P-p-” Heather gritted her teeth and gathered herself, “Please. I just don’t have the time to talk. Goodbye!”
With her last words, Heather shut the door firmly and slammed the deadbolt home. Her hands were trembling and she was on the edge of hyperventilating. She thought of looking through the peephole to make sure that the man on the other side of the door had gone away…but she couldn’t build up the courage to look. The only thing worse than not knowing if he was waiting on the other side would be finding out that he definitely was waiting on the other side.
She slumped down at her desk, still cluttered with assignments and unopened envelopes, and put her head in her hands. Her pussy ached and tingled and she could feel her nipples rub painfully against the fabric of her shirt. She was hot, sticky and tense and wanted nothing more than to jam her hands into her panties and rub herself off.
But she couldn’t. The memory of the man on the other side of the door was still fresh in her mind. His expression when he caught her scent. His disturbingly wide smile. His eyes. She couldn’t get him out of her head and the thought of touching herself while that face filled her thoughts left her ill. And so she sat…hot, sticky, tense and frustrated.
She was snapped out of her unpleasant fugue by the sound of a soft thump at the door, followed by the sound of a key scraping for a keyhole.
“Heather? I’m coming in.” Cheryl’s voice was muffled by the door. Heather felt instantly ashamed that she had completely forgotten about Cheryl after the encounter with the man on the other side of the door. Heather hurriedly got to her feet as Cheryl opened the door, wishing she had taken the opportunity to put a bra on.
“Hi! Did you get everything?”
Cheryl came in, juggling a large duffle bag, a laptop bag and a box in colorful wrapping paper topped with a bow. “Yeah! This is all I’ve got. I hope you don’t mind me bumming your fridge and microwave and stuff…most of my electronics got ruined.”
Heather walked over and took the heavy duffle off of Cheryl’s hands, causing the skinny girl to tip back as she regained her balance. “Here, let me get that. You can borrow whatever you need. Feel free to use the dressers too, I pretty much just wear three outfits.”
“Thanks!” Cheryl’s chipper energy was infectious and Heather could feel some of her tension releasing with the other girl around. “Here. This is for you I guess.”
She handed Heather the colorful present, wrapped in red and yellow paper. It felt heavy and was difficult to balance, as though the weight inside kept shifting around. It had a black ribbon and a folded tag.
“What is it? Some kind of moving-in present? You really didn’t have to.”
“Oh? No, no.” Cheryl laughed. “No that wasn’t from me. It was just outside the door and so I figured it must have been for you. I haven’t told anyone else I was moving her yet.” | 5faf4d29ceda4f7495029685e4a9ef19 | ['5779084f135346e4a4ede43095bbbdb5'] | There was no answer. Her voice had no echo, as though she was shouting into an empty void rather than screaming inside a tiny room.
She tried the door, on principle. It was locked. She spent a while kicking it and swearing, but that was mostly to make her feel a little better. It worked, slightly. It was strange, but she actually did feel better. She could still feel that gnawing, hopeless hole somewhere deep inside but it felt...buried. How fucked up was it that being here, back in this nightmare, was somehow more pleasant than being back in her own room?
Although this was her room as well, she supposed. Or it used to be. In another life.
She examined the door. The top row of recesses were filled with what looked like tarot cards. To the left was a card labeled Judgement showing a twisted, quasi-angelic figure with a trumpet. On the right was a card labeled The Hanged Man, showing a figure suspended upside down in some kind of metal frame, their head covered in a red sack. In the center was a card she had only ever seen once before and had never been able to find in any other tarot deck: The Eye Of Night. All three were nailed in place with rusty iron nails.
The middle row was filled with photos, taped in place with clear packing tape. The central photo was Heather herself, looking red-eyed and sullen, as though she had just finished crying. Heather hated having her picture taken and certainly had no memory of posing for this picture, but she was staring directly into the camera. On the left was Cheryl, sporting her terrible pink hair dye and a nervous smile. The rightmost photo was poorly developed and looked much older than the other two but it showed Heather’s face as well. Except that her hair was black and there was the faint overlay of another, similar face, like an accidental double-exposure: Alessa.
The bottom-most row was empty: three gaps waiting to be filled.
“Fucking games,” Heather muttered. She shouted into the empty room, “If you’re going to kill me or send fucking monsters after me, just do it! Why the fucking puzzles!?”
There was no answer.
Heather sighed and shone her light around. There was no telling how long the phone’s battery would last and she knew from experience that the door wouldn’t budge until she played along. There was no use fighting it.
On the bed was an old, water-stained sketchbook. She flipped through it, looking for some sort of clue. Almost every page was blacked out like someone took a black crayon and scribbled furiously until the entire page was covered. Occasional gaps in the marks revealed that there were drawings underneath, furiously expunged. The last page was the only one that hadn’t been completely blacked out.
The writing was in crayon and looked like an excerpt from some kind of reference on mythology or religion.
_One of the oldest religious symbols is the tripartite goddess. Each aspect of the goddess representing an essential aspect of life. The Maiden, who represents purity, virginity and the hope of new life. The Mother, a protective, nurturing figure associated with sex and fertility. The Crone, representing old age, wisdom and death._
Underneath the sketch pad was a small tile, roughly the dimensions of a tarot card but thicker and carved of some kind of bone or ivory. It showed a young girl washing beneath a waterfall. In the sky was a half-full moon and in the woods behind the girl were the shadowed shapes of wolves.
Heather picked up the tile and returned to the door. As far as bizarre puzzles went, this didn’t seem particularly hard. She took the tile and fitted it to the space below Cheryl’s picture and pressed it into the recess. It slid in easily and there was a snapping sound as something locked the tile into place. Two left.
She found the second tile in one of the desk drawers. It was full of black, fibrous fungus that tore like cotton candy when she opened the drawer. Nested in the center was another tile, its white surface yellowed with age and spotted by fungal spores. Heather tore a page from the sketchbook and used it to lift the tile out without touching it directly. It featured an elderly woman sleeping in a rocking chair. Her mouth was open and a spider seemed to be building a web between her lips. In the sky was the slightest sliver of a crescent moon, just barely still visible.
Heather stood in front of the door and pondered this one for a moment, but there were only two options and Alessa was technically the eldest, wasn’t she? She slotted the tile into the lower right recess and pressed it home. There was another snapping noise and somewhere beyond the door was the sound of machinery moving into new configurations. Just one empty spot remained.
The last tile eluded her for almost fifteen minutes. Nothing in the drawers or rotten dressers or beneath the disturbingly damp mattress. She was just about to start upending furniture and tearing things from the wall when she walked over the rug and heard the creak of an elderly floorboard. A familiar sound that triggered a wave of memories. The memories of a young girl who had not yet been burnt and tortured, a girl who was, in some ways, her.
That girl had a secret place, where she could hide small toys and treasures from her mother’s disapproving gaze. A small space under the floorboards. A safe place. |
5cbeca873b74427b9895bd727fca07aa | ['578216bd08dd42e6b7cdc34013fe6092'] | Peter shrugged nonchalantly, “It’s not too bad.”
Tony stood up, “You know what, I got an idea.”
Both Peter and Stephen looked up to see what exactly Tony was up to.
“Come on you guys,” Tony leaded the two out of Peter’s room.
Stephen stood and helped Peter out of bed, smiling kindly while doing so. They both stepped out of the room to follow Tony, wherever he was going. Tony walked down to the living room of their house, the scuff of his slippers mocking the rhythm of the pattering rain outside.
They eventually reached the living room, Tony finally coming to a stop.
“Okay just wait here on the couch, I’ll be back,” Tony clapped while speaking, walking into the kitchen.
Peter flopped down onto the couch tiredly while Stephen sat next to him. Peter stretched tiredly while Stephen waited for Tony to come back from whatever the hell he was doing.
Tony came back into the living room, somehow holding three cups of something, and a bowl of popcorn. He placed the cups and the bowl onto the coffee table by the couch and sat down next to Stephen.
“Okay what movie should we watch to pass the time?” Tony asked.
“Oh! Ghostbusters! We should watch Ghostbusters!” Peter exclaimed cheerfully.
“Alright, alright,” Tony chuckled, flicking through various movies to find Ghostbusters.
Finally, Tony had found Ghostbusters and clicked play, starting the movie. He placed the remote down on the table, sitting back and getting ready for the film. Stephen sipped the hot chocolate that was had made for the three of them, and held Tony’s hand smiling. Tony smiled back, and looked over at Peter who was stuffing his face with popcorn already. Tony laughed quietly in amusement, while Stephen snorted.
Tony leaned over and whispered to Stephen, “He’s such a nerd, but he’s our nerd right?”
“Says you, but you’re right,” Stephen replied.
Tony rolled his eyes dismissively, cracking a smile.
“Well I guess the rain really did help us bond a little,” Stephen stated, pleased.
**Author's Note:**
> im screaming this took so long and im proud of it
> hmu at my tumblr http://venus--wenus.tumblr.com/ | ad9dc297c40c49dda35735718497e2c0 | ['578216bd08dd42e6b7cdc34013fe6092'] |
Peter's Flashed Catastrophe
**Author's Note:**
> notice: author is trans
> this took like a week and my hands hurt help
> hope you enjoy my story!!
Peter tapped his foot against the floor of his history classroom, only 5 more minutes left of the class. Hopefully, if he got out of class first, he could avoid confrontation with a certain someone and just have a nice lunch with his friends MJ and Ned. Peter rubbed his eyes and sighed, he was exhausted from first period. Hell, he’s been exhausted since he woke up. When he was eating the cereal aunt May had set out for him, his face fell in the bowl. (Thank god aunt May wasn’t there in the morning today.)
Suddenly, the class ending bell rung quite loudly. Peter quickly gathered his books and other items, quickly scurrying out the class door.
Peter sharply bumped into a figure in front of him. He let out a small ‘humph’, surprised by the sudden contact.
“Watch where you’re going _ Penis Parker _ ,” A familiar voice snarled.
Peter glanced up from his books, which were pressed to his chest. When he looked up he saw who he had thought he heard, Flash. Flash smiled snarkily at Peter, and Peter knew exactly what Flash was about to do.
“Say, where did all those dresses you wore in middle school go Parker? They would still fit you well,” Flash snorted.
“Fuck off Flash-” Peter mumbled, trying to inch away from Flash.
“Aw, come on _ Karen _ don’t be so rude,” Flash said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
Peter felt a sense of panic and dread drift over him and land deep inside his stomach. He quickly looked around to make sure no one had heard what Flash said. Almost no one at the school knew about Peter’s deadname, besides MJ and Ned, because he trusted them with that kind of information. Peter’s breathing was quiet, fast, and panicked. He looked away from Flash with furrowed eyebrows, thinking of what to say.
“Y’know, Parker, I’m surprised that people are actually convinced that you’re a _ guy _ ,” Flash put emphasis around the word guy as a sign of air quotes.
Peter swallowed, holding his books to his chest tighter. He felt as though the air had been contaminated and he couldn’t breathe. Peter could see Flash’s hand moving towards his collar, so without any thought, Peter made a run for it, his shoes slamming against the ground while his breathing was heavy since he was wearing his binder.
Peter bursted into the lunchroom, panting. He looked around for Ned and MJ and realized neither of them were at their regular table yet. Peter rushed into the lunch line to find Ned and MJ, finding them somewhere near the middle of the line.
“Hey, Peter! There you are you’re like,” Ned looked at the clock on the nearest wall, “Three minutes late!”
“Haha uhm- sorry I was just-”
“Was it that asshole Flash again?” MJ sighed loudly.
Peter hesitated, he hated Flash but he didn’t want MJ to beat his ass and get in trouble for it.
“Well, yeah but-” Peter mumbled.
“I’m gonna beat his ass I swear to god,” MJ hissed.
“Yeah I’ll help too,” Ned exclaimed, clearly upset.
“You guys don’t need to do that really, you’ll get in trouble,” Peter said, grabbing a milk carton and placing it on his tray.
“Eh, whatever, come on guys,” MJ stated and starting walking to their usual lunch table.
The group sat down, Peter was relieved that the topic about Flash was finished. He munched quietly on his lunch, which were some kind of bootleg nachos, Peter didn’t know what was in them and honestly, he didn't want to know.
Just then, a tray was smacked down onto the groups table, making them all jump at least slightly. Peter looked up in dread, and of course, Flash was standing there looking both pissed and smug.
“Running away Parker? What a shame,” Flash taunted, grinning.
Peter looked back down into his food quickly, picking at it, sighing.
“Shut your mouth, dickhead,” MJ hissed, throwing a tomato slice right at Flash’s face. The tomato fell to the ground with a little ‘splat’ and Peter chuckled a little at the sound.
“You think this is funny Kar-”
“Flash, just shut the hell up and leave me alone, I’m not having this today,” Peter stated firmly, shooting a dark stare at Flash.
Flash blinked a couple times, surprised at Peter’s sudden boldness.
“Whatever, tranny,” Flash huffed and left the group alone.
Peter’s face fell quickly, his eyebrows furrowed and he looked down back at his lunch. He was gripping his fork a little too tightly, so tightly that his arm was shaking.
“I’m gonna fucking kick his ass-” MJ tried to get up from her seat but Peter held her back.
“MJ no- don’t-” Peter hissed, worried that MJ would _ actually _ kick Flash’s ass into the shadow realm.
“Come on Peter, let us beat his ass!” Ned said.
“Guys. No,” Peter said firmly, “I’m not letting you two get in trouble. Plus if you both got suspended or something for kicking his ass then I would be left at school with him.”
Ned sighed and mumbled, “Well he is right.”
MJ just rolled her eyes and sat back down, eating her lunch with a sour expression. Peter picked up a conversation as normal, other than the Flash situation, the rest of their lunch went fine.
After the bell rung, signaling that lunch was over, the rest of the day had went normally too. The day was mostly just tiring for Peter, having to help out one of the substitute teachers in his class, since all the other kids were fucking around. The other classes were pretty uninteresting, per usual. (That doesn’t mean Peter doesn’t try in those classes, but in his defense, the teachers made it pretty boring.) |
8141f1bb4dd849909b7ea7b3a84095ef | ['579805ca3db44e0b8cf4afaa17b0c6fc'] | Snotlout growls as his anger grows before bellowing out a battle cry, charging headlong towards Draco. Snotlout starts flailing and swinging wildly with little composure or regard, his sole aim to pummel Draco. Draco manages to dodge and block most of the punches until he is caught on the temple by a right hook while in a kneeling position. A little dazed, he then gets hit with a left hook before Snotlout brings his leg up and stomps, kicking Draco in the chest and knocking him back into a barricade.
“Hah! Who’s the man now, huh?!” Snotlout brags with some anger still in his voice, flexing his muscles in celebration.
Draco gets up off the barricade after watching Snotlout for a little, reaching for his head and twisting it twice, cracking his neck.
“Right, no more going easy on you,” Draco declares, flaring his nostrils.
“Oh-ho-ho,” Spitfire chortled, rubbing his hands together. “This is going to be good!”
The two fighters run at each other, fully intent on beating the other to a pulp. Both men swing their fists hard and fast and sweep and stamp with strong kicks, all the while avoiding most of their opponents blows by ducking, weaving, rolling and countering each other’s moves. Within a few minutes, a sickeningly loud crack is heard as Draco’s right hook slams into Snotlout’s face, breaking his nose and drawing blood as it begins trickling down his face. Snotlout wipes his nose after his little stagger from the punch. Wincing from the pain of the break and seeing the blood as he pulled his finger away just made Snotlout more irate, going nearly into a berserk state. One of the first things he does after his nose was broken was to drive Draco into a barricade, both the Dragonborn and the barricade toppling over. Snotlout then jumps on him and clocks Draco on his jaw with both fists. Snotlout then grabs Draco by the scruff of his shirt and raises his fist to pummel Draco into the ground, but is prevented from doing so when Draco kicks out from underneath, flipping Snotlout over and onto his back. Both get up to their feet, with Snotlout charging in using his head like a battering ram. Draco dodges to the side, grabbing Snotlout under his shoulders and hurling him across the arena as if he was tossing a sheep. Snotlout crashes through the barricade that he was aimed at, turning a good part of the wood to splinters.
“Alright … maybe we should stop it here,” Hiccup suggests as he looks at Snotlout struggling to get back up with blood pouring out from his nose.
“Why? I’m just getting warmed up,” Draco said bluntly, rolling his jaw around with his hand.
“Draco, now’s a good time to-”
Snotlout scurried to his feet, shouting incomprehensibly as he charged at Draco again, resuming their scuffle again.
“Maybe pairing those two up wasn’t such a good idea after all,” Catherine suggested to Hiccup with concern. “At this stage, we’re going to be two members short.”
“I know,” Hiccup agrees, getting to his feet. “Guys, that’s enough!”
The two don’t hear him at all as they brawl it out, getting more furious with each passing second. The main difference between the two is that Draco is nearing the point of losing control, while Snotlout has well-and-truly passed that point. Hiccup runs out to try and separate the two, but he ended up being pushed back by the two. He tries again to no avail, even when Bomber, Astrid, Catherine and Natalie run out to help him.
“Enough, you two!” Bomber booms, attempting to wedge them apart.
“Draco, stop!” Catherine pleads, tugging hard on his arms. “Please stop this.”
“It’s over, Snotlout!” Astrid strained as she tried to push him away.
Draco glances over to the dragons and utters some growls towards Hookfang. The Nightmare rolled his eyes, yawned and got to his feet. He casually walked over to the commotion and lifted Snotlout up by the back collar of his shirt, thanks in part from Draco letting the Viking go and pushing him away.
“ _Thank you, Hookfang,”_ Hiccup spoke to the Nightmare while he, Astrid, Catherine and Bomber surround Draco to prevent another scuffle. “ _Would you dropping him down outside the arena?”_
Hookfang gives Hiccup a curt nod and exits the arena. As he twists around due to the hold Hookfang has on him, Snotlout glares at Draco as he is carried out, pointing a finger at each of his eyes before pointing both at Draco. The Dragonborn holds both his hands up to signify that he wasn’t going to fight back, the four around him cautiously backing off.
“I’ll go tend to Snotlout,” Catherine stated as she walked out of the arena, following Hookfang.
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Bomber said as he walked back to the others with Draco, the latter rolling his shoulders and jaw around tentatively.
After a half hour passes, which involved picking up the remnants of the broken barricades, washing the blood off of the arena floor and Catherine tending to the wounds of both Draco and Snotlout, every man, woman and dragon are back inside the arena with Hiccup standing in front of them all, the two combatants considerably calmer as they accepted the fact that it was just a training fight.
“I think it’s safe to say that that was not the intended outcome,” Hiccup said addressing everyone. “What was meant to be a simple duel got out of hand for a while.”
“What is the point of having these fights, Hiccup? Astrid asked, leaning up against the wall.
“The point in having these fights was to highlight the weaknesses in your fighting styles and show you what you need to work on,” Hiccup explained. “That way, if your flaws were improved upon it would benefit you all as warriors.” | 19c6b30800ef452786603f4347e71de6 | ['579805ca3db44e0b8cf4afaa17b0c6fc'] | ‘ _ **I got some bandages, medicine and a few instruments in order to help her. The medicine to lessen the pain, the instruments to help get whatever was in her arm out and the bandages to dress the wound afterwards … and to bandage myself if anything went wrong.’**_
Thanatos began by cleaning the wound, before giving some medicine to the Fury. He then began trying to pull out whatever it was that was in her arm with his tools. The medicine didn’t do much to lessen the pain, as Thanatos tried to steady himself due to the female thrashing about. The male jumped up and held her down, trying to keep her as still as possible to help Thanatos.
‘ _ **After several minutes of intense medical procedures, the object lodged in there was a strange kind of arrow. It had barbs that were meant to extend out once embedded in so that it would be difficult to pull out.’**_
Astrid and Hiccup peered over Thanatos to take a look at the arrow. It was snapped off halfway, yet it was completely metal and thicker than your usual arrow. They could see that the barbs hadn’t extended.
“It’s a good thing that those hadn’t extended,” Hiccup said. “Otherwise, it would’ve been much more painful than it was.”
“Thank Thor,” Astrid sighed.
The image then changed to Thanatos upstairs talking to a frightened Catherine.
‘… _**and it took me even longer to convince Catherine that the “monsters in the cellar” weren’t going to eat her.’**_
“It’s going to be fine, sis,” Thanatos said, crouching down to Catherine’s height. “They won’t hurt any of us. They’re good dragons.”
She shook her head furiously, looking at her brother fearfully.
“There aren’t good dragons,” she cried. “Dragons destroy the village. They take our food.”
The male Night Fury slowly walks up the stairs, peering curiously at Catherine. She backs away quickly … that is, until she backs into the wall. The dragon still keeps coming towards her, tilting his head at her.
“See? He’s coming to eat me now!” Catherine squealed, pressing herself against the wall. “Brother! Please help!”
“He’s not going to hurt you,” Thanatos said, standing up as the Fury reached Catherine.
She started freaking out as the dragon looked curiously at her, sniffing her. She tried to press herself further against the wall, regardless of her not being able to do so. The dragon then started purring and nuzzling her with his head. She looked scared and surprised as he raised his head, staring at her with kind, green eyes. Catherine then giggled and scratched his head, making him purr and lean into her again, resulting in more giggles.
“You were saying?” Thanatos chuckled as he watched the two of them.
“Okay … maybe there are some good dragons …” she admitted as she patted the male Night Fury, the image freezing then and disappearing, giving way to the next entry.
* * *
**_Journal Entry 3_ **
**_Village of Dek._ **
Astrid and Hiccup landed in a scene just outside the house. Both Catherine and Thanatos were there, playing with the two Night Furies. The rest of the villagers where inside their houses, so there was no one coming down from the village to check on them.
“They seem to be getting on well,” Astrid remarked, looking happily at the group.
“Of course … that’s what each and every one of the people that I’ve met like this has done,” Hiccup pointed out.
‘ _ **It has been two months since the two Night Furies landed in our field, and since then everything changed. I’ve seen and learnt more about dragons in the first few weeks than I ever would have in a hundred had I not met them. And I’ve seen and done things that Vikings could only dream of.’**_
Catherine and the male dragon tumbled around on the ground, Catherine giggling loudly. Thanatos and the female dragon both laughed as they watched the other two go at it.
‘ _ **I’ve grown attached to the dragon I helped. She is the most reliable and loyal friend I have on the island … apart from maybe Catherine. She, in turn, has also grown attached to the male Night Fury. They’re practically family now, and I think they feel the same. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have stayed behind. We decided to name the female Blackbolt, and the male Zaf.’**_
The memory changed to Thanatos flying through the air, riding atop Blackbolt.
‘ _ **I also got to do something that changed my view of dragons forever. I got to ride a dragon.’**_
“Woohoooo!” Thanatos howled as they zipped and zoomed through the floating rock formations under Dek. They swerved in and out of the way of the structures, sometimes barely skimming them as they whipped through at thunderous speeds.
‘ _ **Riding a dragon was the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever done, but unfortunately for Catherine, she’s only nine. Her flying could be incredibly dangerous, so she can’t experience this yet. But I have faith she will one day. Right now, it could mean her death, but not mine.’**_
“Whoa!” he shouted as they just missed a rocky arch stretching over from one formation to the next, Blackbolt rolling over so he wouldn’t get hit.
“Whew … that was close,” Thanatos sighed, before Blackbolt slaps his cheek with her ear.
“Ow … what was that for?” he asked as they zoomed towards a large stalactite that he hadn’t seen yet. Blackbolt noticed it and roared loudly, trying to get him to focus on where they are going.
“What is i- Oh no,” he said as he finally notices the stalagmite.
They both swerve to try and avoid the stalagmite, but they reacted too slowly. At the end of their routine, they both flew back home, each with a bruise over an eye.
Astrid stifled a giggle as she and Hiccup flew alongside human and dragon. |
dfbd4942fb0c44c19919d93616257df0 | ['57b25c08621f434e9b5c71e70e979993'] | “Would five be okay? I gotta work till four.”
“Yeah, of course. Neat.”
At three pm the next day, nothing was neat. In fact, the complete opposite was happening.
Tyler was pacing around in his room. He didn't know if he should keep his clothes from school on or change, if he should take another shower and if he should really do this or decide for the easier option and fake his death.
To say the least, he was a nervous wreck.
Jenna said she would come over and help him, but she was yet to show up and Tyler was scared she wouldn't make it in time. What if he seriously had to do this on his own?
What if Josh thought his clothes were ugly? What if he decided he just didn't like Tyler in person? What if Tyler fucked up completely and Josh would never want to talk to him again?
Fuck. He couldn’t do it.
Right as he was about to text Josh and tell him he catched a cold (very tragic, he was aware), his best friend finally burst into his room.
“I’m sorry, Ty, I couldn’t get away from my mum, had to finish homework. Are you okay?”
“No,” he said. “I’m going to call it off.”
“No, you’re not. Get up. It's gonna be fine.”
“Jen, I’m serious.”
“I am, too. What are you wearing?”
“You’re not taking me seriously!” he exclaimed, letting himself fall back onto his bed.
“Listen,” she began, looking through his closet.
“You’ll be fine. You're exaggerating. You think way too much about everything that could go wrong, instead of focusing about the good things. You guys will have fun, bond over this movie and get to know each other more. Now, flannel or adidas jacket?”
¡!¡
Joshua greeted him with a hug and invited him in.
It was a nice hug - warm and firm - and Tyler’s smile was almost as big as Josh’s own.
“I made popcorn,” the older man announced, as Tyler took off his shoes. “And I have red bull and coke. ‘Cause I know you love red bull.”
“How sweet, thank you!”
“You’re welcome. So, wanna start the movie?”
11. ;eleven
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> this is really short i'm sorry
They didn't talk during the movie, except for when Josh got excited and pointed out when something ‘totally awesome’ was going to happen, so Tyler didn't have to worry about saying something wrong, and he was able to fully the enjoy the movie.
To be honest, he didn't quite understand why the older boy loved it as much as he did, but he did see why he liked it and it made his heart flutter whenever Joshua grinned at the screen or tugged at his sleeve to get his attention.
After the movie had ended, they talked for a bit and the brunette found himself being able to speak freely around the brightly haired man.
He also noticed that he was still smiling as he entered his own home again, shortly before his parents arrived from work, and tried to calm himself down so they wouldn't ask any weird questions, especially since they didn't know he'd gone out, but he couldn’t help it. Something about Josh made him insanely happy, in a way that made his stomach feel like it was turned upside down, but not in a bad way.
He felt like he could trust him, and like they would become great friends. He couldn’t think of a time he’s ever felt like this about someone else. It was confusing, but still somewhat beautiful.
Slowly zoning out, he went to the kitchen to pour himself some cereal and then went up to his room to watch some Buzzfeed, only pausing to have another small heart attack when his phone screen lit up with the message ‘need to do more stuff together :)’ from a certain yellow haired man.
12. ;twelve
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> this story will end soon btw. i intended to make it longer but i simply don't have the motivation. i'll try to make the last chapters as good as possible though
The one thing that had always make Tyler wish he was in a relationship, was cuddles. He was, in fact, a very huggy person, and even though he and his friends hugged each other when they met, he could play with Jenna’s hair and there were always slight squeezes of hands while walking, it never was what he needed.
He felt like a boyfriend could give it to him. Like if he had a special someone, someone who wouldn't give him strange looks when he randomly walked up and hugged them, someone who would play with his hair while he laid on their lap, someone he could hold onto, when he was anxious, he would simply feel better.
(And for some reason, he started to want Josh to be that person recently.)
About a month has passed since he was over at Josh’s, and besides school and his friends and family, he was mostly talking to the man he’d met at the mall.
Texts have turned into phone calls, phone calls into skype sessions and the day Tyler had been added to a group call with Joshua’s friends was what he liked to describe as the ‘best thing since the invention of Vine’.
They had quickly accepted him as ‘part of their flock’, as Brendon had expressed it, and Melanie had told him several times how it was okay to be shy and quiet, and that he was a very sweet and handsome person, while Ashley had made a lot of comments about the music he was playing in the background.
He didn't stop smiling for ages after they said he should come hang out with them sometime, until Pete had slapped him and told him to ‘get his act together, he already had friends (who were better than them anyways).’ | eb6e8a50ebc540fdb35d38bb975b305e | ['57b25c08621f434e9b5c71e70e979993'] | After telling him about a later happening family party (for whatever reason), she practically forced him to do grocery shopping and so he took off the sweatpants and an old band shirt he was literally wearing for three minutes and changed into black skinny jeans, an oversized black hoodie and a black cap.
Not wanting to waste the little time he would have later to be an antisocial piece of trash and browse Tumblr, he went downstairs right away, with his journey only being interrupted by Jay, who accidently bumped into Tyler while chasing Madison.
God knows what was going on again.
After taking the list with the things they needed, he headed outdoors to get into his mother's car.
Yes, that's right, Tyler Joseph actually had his driver’s license. He got it just a few weeks ago, but he didn't like driving when he could avoid it. Although, he was too lazy to go to Target and back, this day.
~~
All the way through getting the stuff he was supposed to buy, his mind wasn’t really were it should have been. Instead, it went back to the music store, to the man that now had his phone number, the man that would be calling him some time soon, and he wasn’t ready.
It was already embarrassing enough to fall while first talking to someone and almost rip off an entire shelf, he didn't need to make a total fool of himself again.
And he was really mad at Jenna.
Of course he appreciated the fact, that she tried to help him make friends and get to know (kinda hot) people, but he simply wanted her to stop. He wasn’t for social interaction, nor for going out. Going on dates, flirting, all that stuff. That wasn't him.
He didn't want to get set up with any guy that passed his way, he just wanted to stay in bed the whole day, binge watching Modern Family and talking to his friends on the phone.
Not in real life.
But not with the great Jenna Black.
Damn that girl with her stupid socializing and talking. He was fine with only three friends.
He didn't need anyone besides Jenna, Pete and Dallon. They were his family and he was happy this way, even though they always tried to ‘get him out of his shell’.
Right now, however, nobody had to try said thing, no one besides him, at least, because he did have to do some talking in order to pay for stuff. Thank heaven’s he was able to do that by himself.
Feel the eyeroll.
~~
Now, sitting besides his siblings under the wooden pavilion in their garden, he let his gaze wander over all the relatives gathered on the Joseph’s property.
What would happen if they found out I was gay?, he thought.
Would they accept it or hit me with their bibles?
He hadn’t come out to anyone besides his closest circle, that being his parents, siblings and friends, and to be honest, he didn't plan on doing it anytime soon. He still remembered the way his uncle’s eyebrows furrowed together when he saw two girls holding hands at the train station, or his cousin talking shit about a guy wearing make up.
Shouldn't they just love him, no matter what?
At this point, he was thinking so much, he was waiting for his head to fall off, but instead his sister nudged him lightly.
“Ty? Your phone is ringing,” she said, pointing at the vibrating device on the floor.
He picked it up, not bothering to see who was calling. The only person calling him was anyway just Jenna, Dallon sometimes, too, but only if something really important had happened. Like finding a new band he liked or not understanding maths homework. As if Tyler could help him with some shit like that.
The only problem in this case was that it wasn’t, in fact, Jenna.
“Hello?”, someone said on the other line.
“Is this Tyler Joseph?”
Tyler blinked once - or twice, maybe even three times, causing his siblings to shoot him worried looks - before anwering.
“Euh, yes. Who’s this?”, he asked quietly, looking at the black vans on his feet.
He was so colorful today.
“It’s Josh. From the music store, remember? I helped you up,” the voice - Josh - laughed.
Tyler felt his cheeks redden at the thought of the incident and as he looked up slightly, he saw questioning looks on his brothers faces. Madison was too focused on food to notice.
“Yeah, I remember,” he mumbled. “So.. what's up?”
“Well, your CD is here and I thought you might wanna get it?”
“Of course, yes, but.. I’m kinda.. busy?”
“Oh, don't worry, it's here for couple of days. I just thought it's important because your girlfriend said you need it next week and we close soon,” Josh explained.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Tyler said.
“What?”
“Jenna’s not my girlfriend. Doesn't matter anyway. When do you close?”
“In about an hour, I guess. Don't really know, sorry,” he answered and Tyler meant to hear a little smirk, what didn't make any sense, seeing as you can't hear a facial expression, but he liked the thought of it.
“Alright. I’m coming, just stay open for a little while, okay?”
He smiled, when Josh agreed and hung up, but the smile faded the moment he saw his brothers looking at him.
“Do you have somewhere to go to, Tyler?”, Zack asked sternly.
“Or should we say, someone?”, Jay added.
“Wait, are you going on a date?”, his sister threw in confused, her food not existing anymore.
“Nope,” he said quickly as he stood up, and he could still feel his brothers’ overprotectiveness when he was already starting the car.
4. ;four
Josh sat behind the counter and shot nervous glances around the shop every ten seconds. |
da657be78c694d4d8139f612e1968155 | ['57b5593f9d6348ce91cb6baff2fb2f4d'] | The sentence was punctuated with another series of strikes with more power behind then, causing England to stumble. It had been a long time since he had been in a proper sword flight. If this was a younger him and this was the Egham estate….was correct to assume he was in the past? How was this possible and when exactly was he?
“Stop,” he commanded.
He pooled his power into the order and was momentary stumped when the well of energy usually at his disposal seamed muted as if filtering over a long distance. That was somewhat worrying. But, he put the issue to one side, being too concerned with his current situation and keeping himself from panicking.
He and his counterpart paused.
His counterpart’s face darkened and he began to examine England fully.
“So you do speak,” the other him finally retorted with some contempt, raising his sword to continue the fight.
To avoid further conflict England slowly raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, dropping his commandeered weapon, which clattered loudly on the ground. His copy cautiously moved to kick it out of reach, eyes never leaving him.
If this was the past then it would be best not to continue to flight and create more of a stir. Better to conserve energy and come up with a plan.
“I think there has been a misunderstanding.” England stated. The other gave him an incredulous look, momentarily stumped by England’s casual tone. However, it had the desired effect, causing his younger self to lose some of the tension in his shoulders and lower his blade ever so slightly.
“Bullocks!” The other him started angrily, “One does not simply craw in to another’s bed uninvited by accident.”
England spluttered at the accusation in indignation feeling slightly mortified. When said like that it sounded like he was some sort of pervert. Somewhere he was sure France was laughing himself to death and he would never hear the end of this if America ever found out. Not that they could find out with him being in the freaking PAST! But there was not time to think of such things as his laps in attention had once again caused the other to narrow his eyes in mistrust. Not impressed in the slightest his counterpart raised his sword again.
“Who sent you?” He growled.
Is that what he had looked like when he was trying to intimidate someone? It was little wonder he managed to scare anyone at all. Then again it might be more intimidating save for the fact that England had seen it all before and had experienced much worst. That and he could not get over the surreal experience of not only talking to himself but also somehow ending up in the PAST!
“I assured you there has defiantly been some sort of mistake.” England tried again in a calmer tone, continuing to hold his hands in the air. His words did little to relieve his younger self who flicked to sword towards his throat in warning.
England mentally signed. If this was indeed a past version of himself then he would be stubborn not to mention suspicious. Perhaps it would be best for him to remain silent, wait for his counterpart to draw his own conclusions and make his escape later. God, this was going to give him such a headache.
“What sort of country are you anyway. I can barely feel your presence. Not very strong are you,” England ignored the jab. Despite the brash tone England observed his counterpart’s eyes keenly flickering over him quickly taking in his posture and appearance, trying to piece everything together.
“Is that how you entered without me sensing you?”
It was an important question because if a country failed to sense another sneaking through their borders who knew what sort of damage could be committed. It also revealed that his younger self was beginning to suspect something amiss.
They were interrupted from further questioning by the loud yelling and stamping of feet as a dozen guards filed onto the landing and were quick to surround him in a half circle. They were a bit late. England took a moment to study the new arrivals, marking their positions. There was a shout and they all raised their weapons, looking slightly confused, eyes flickering between the two England’s.
“Give me some time and I’ll explain everything,” England tried again in a reasonable voice. He just needed time to sort himself out and come up with a plan. His younger self frowned obviously aggravated by the lack of answers he was receiving but unwilling to make a scene in front of the humans. There was a few seconds of what appeared to be internal debate before he pulled back, fixing England with an evaluating glower.
“Very well.” He said irritably, “Guards! Escort him the west wing,”
Several of the guards exchanged surprised glances before one spoke up, “Sir should we not call the tower guard and have this imposter escorted elsewhere.”
“Do as I say,” The other him cut in impatiently, “Make sure you put him in a room with no windows and post guards as well.”
The guards once again swapped confused looks before quickly moving to secure his hands behind his back. The hallway fell into silence broken by the stamping of heavy boots and clank of muskets as the guards shifted around. His counterpart continued to eye him warily as if he were a confusing puzzle to be solved. His shoulders were suddenly grabbed and he was forcibly spun around and marched down the left passage in the opposite direction of his arrival. He glanced over his shoulder still unwilling to believe that that was actually the past version of himself watching him being led away. | 63be2829de4d4fa5b55bed1e7e62e786 | ['57b5593f9d6348ce91cb6baff2fb2f4d'] |
1. Up the Creek
**Author's Note:**
> My attempt at writing within the 2P universe, focusing on an alternative world history which might lead to such a creation. So if you are interested in that sort of thing there will be some of that here.
>
> Probably got some spelling and grammar errors, which I'll most likely fix at a later date.
There were two of them. Their faces were obscured with blank masks, they sat perched above up him, gazing lifelessly down. He had but a second to leap backwards as a knife, thrown at an impossible speed, hit ground where he had been standing.
Without a world they flew into action.
England had trouble keeping his balance as the two alternated between long-range and short-range attacks. Their speed and strength placed them as smaller nations and their fighting style was East-Asian in origin.
Their teamwork was prefect. Even with his superior strength and speed he was steadily being pushed back and kept on the defensive. Who were they? How did they know to come after him when he had barely bean in this strange world a month?
“What do you what?” England tried, asking in a brief pause between fighting. Predictably, he was met with eerily silence.
Frowning, England dodged several more punches from assailant one. He growled, he had not traveled half way around this insane world and put up with all kinds of crap to be offed but would be faceless assassins. As he ducked a kick and quickly drew his gun, firing several shots, which clipped the shoulder of the second attacker, who had been throwing daggers at him from several meters. He may not have access to his favoured sword- the gun had never been his weapon of choice- but one did not survive as long as he did by being defenceless. Whether it be in this crazy world or his own.
Unexpectedly, a new red form blurred in from his left and England spun away in time to see something long and hard impact the side of his opponent’s head and send him crashing into a nearby tree.
A shadowy figure followed the action, quickly leaping after the second attacker, batting aside a dagger and jabbing the others stomach so he fell for his higher perch to the ground.
“Get the fuck off my territory. Ingrates!” The stranger called, his back to England, as the two faceless attackers began to retreat.
“I catch you here again and there will be hell to pay.”
He then turned around and England was confronted with a familiar figure. He was tall, grimy, with ruffled blond hair and leaning against a hockey stick, which was stained red in several places.
“Wh?” England began to ask but was silenced when the stick was levelled at his face.
“I’m Canada. Don’t fucking forget it. Now who the hell are you?”
England blinked, just when he thought he was getting a handle on all the weirdness this crazy world threw him another curve ball.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . Three Weeks Earlier. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The Stonehenge a mystery to even him. Built before his time for purposes unknown. He always loved walking amongst the ancient stone blocks, feeling the magic and power swell around him. An old and wild magic that made him feel young again. Though with increases in tourism he could not do this as much he would have liked, being that there were people visiting the stones throughout most of the day. This, unfortunately, relegated his visits to the early hours of the morning often before the sun rose.
England stood at the center of the ancient stone circle, relishing the currents of energy, which seamed to swell around the spot. As a country personification he was especially attune to this form of ‘magic,’ which connected him to his land and people, giving him his supernatural strength and speed as well as the ability to influence different parts of his country. England expanded his aura and turned his vision inwards, feeling out the millions of people who created the citizens of his nation. With a released breath, England forced himself to relax and let the stiffness leach from his body. A cold night breeze washed over him and he allowed himself to slip into a meditative state, allowing him to reconnect with his country. An action which was as necessary, due to it ensuring a personification did not become detached from his/her people, as it was painful and inspiring, for a country was comprised of fluctuating amounts of suffering and triumph.
Today something was off.
England grimaced, attempting to root out the problem, shifting through the billion interconnected sparks of life. He even extended his senses into the rest of the United Kingdom, though he had significantly less clarity when it come to his brother countries. There was an irritated beat from the north, which was Scotland acknowledging his intrusion, meaning he too was probably in meditation or something akin to it. If he where to describe the sensation he would say it resembled the lights of a city as seen from a space station.
Suddenly, all the sparks lit up like tiny suns and a wave of energy washed over his land, rushing towards him. Then it was crashing into him and he was drowning.
Nothing
Darkness
Panic |
a8cea406366543dab14e44c7a0efb3b4 | ['57d077a0fff04566958084ec0d6ad495'] |
you're meant for me
kihyun likes to believe he’s a good witch.
well not a _good_ witch perse, but good at his craft. that kind of a witch.
and yet, kihyun was the only witch in his form without a familiar. kihyun wouldn’t say he was bothered by that, but he sure as hell was pissed when minhyuk returned to lecture, fifteen minutes later than he told kihyun he’d get there, with a tiny grey and orange tabby peeking out from his sleeve.
_“his name is jooheon,” minhyuk says in a hushed whisper as he tries to fish out his laptop while keeping the kitty levelled and hidden._
_“you named your cat jooheon?” kihyun asks, bewildered, but trying to stay partially focused on listening to his prof discuss organic chemistry._
_“no, dumbass, he’s my familiar.” and minhyuk beams, his face even warmer than usual._
so yeah, kihyun swallowed his pride when everyone around him began to show up with new companions, even stooped a little low in listening to hyungwon just shrug and say, “dude we just need more help than you do,” and accept that his ability to make that bread in the spring that even makes minhyuk compliant, as enough to deem him a good witch.
-
monday morning rolls around and kihyun sighs, he has exactly three notifications: two are informing him of deadlines he has due at the end of the week and the third is approximately a dozen pictures of jooheon with the caption ^~^ goddmrning kihyunnie; and kihyun groans. it’s just one of those mornings where he’d take minhyuk’s lack of autocorrect or a long winded explanation of his love for burger king over hours of lecture (and that was saying a lot, if kihyun must point out.) but he had grades to maintain and that meant, getting on a train to willingly spend his day with minhyuk and biochemistry.
summer was long gone, evident by the leaves that rustle and kick up by his feet as kihyun tries to make it for the 9:30 train. the mornings were darker than he was accustomed to and the nip of the cold air filled his lungs with a thick bite that nearly had him gasping. most annoyingly in kihyun’s opinion, was the linger of construction that hadn’t quite cleared up from early mornings and long nights of the summer heat. which in other words meant, delayed trains and blocked off sidewalks, the last thing kihyun needed.
it’s 9:18 and the goddamn light won’t change. kihyun stands there, winded from his run to the subway, watching each heaved breath he takes, materialize into a clouded fog. he’s so focused on the blinking red hand that he nearly misses the loud screech that echoes through the fairly empty intersection. kihyun’s always had good hearing and places the sound from somewhere in the adjacent parking lot, finding a group of kids crowded at the edge.
kihyun huffs, deciding now more than ever, he needs all the good karma he can get.
“kid, what the fuck are you doing.” it’s rhetorical mostly, just to announce that he’s there, and for the group to part so kihyun can figure out what he’s dealing with.
(so what if he was a bit too short to see over the ninth graders heads, it meant nothing.)
the swarm of kids move to look back at kihyun and there, laid out in the middle of the parking space, is a white cat, curled up with its tail tucked between its legs.
“it’s hurt!” one boy yelps, clearly the most concerned of the few.
kihyun drops towards it. he’s had enough training filling his mandatory high school requirement of volunteer hours at the local animal shelter to look, assess, and potentially heal the cat.
kihyun quickly realizes the cat is missing half its tail, maybe an injured paw to add to the mess. it’s most likely the aftermath of a hit and run from a distracted driver in the lot and kihyun’s heart aches as the cat mews in what kihyun can only assume is pain and discomfort.
he keeps his voice low as he reassures the cat, speaking in kind words to distract the kitty from recognizing his tentative touch. surprisingly, the touch is well received, letting kihyun touch and feel the injured paw, even stroke his tail, with minimal flinching and hissing. shouldn’t be too bad, kihyun concludes, and begins to do his thing.
the spell itself isn’t hard. it was trying to gather the right herbs in the middle of the concrete pavement jungle of a city. if it hadn’t also been lab day, the cat might have had to wait for the next kindhearted witch that looked at the blob in the middle of the parking space and take interest.
the kids are amused, watching kihyun pull things from his bag and fluttering his eyes shut, as he runs over words low and nearly out of earshot. it’s not a long complex process to heal the kitty but far out of reach to replace the broken limb.
it’s a few minutes when the mewling stops and the cat gets up. stretches its body outwards, yawning as if it hadn’t been critically injured and then, stalks up to kihyun’s side, affectionately brushing up against his arm.
the kids, being kids, applaud and kihyun rolls his eyes. places his hands on his thighs to push himself up and throws his bag back over his shoulder. now he was late and would have to beg hyungwon to not only share his notes, but his materials in lab. yea fuck his life.
he throws one get to class kids and makes his way back for the train station, a solid fifteen minutes late now. he’d be lucky if an express train even corresponded with when he’d arrive.
- | 1230736b57be4b1fac628587c245cae2 | ['57d077a0fff04566958084ec0d6ad495'] | it’s been a week since the incident and kihyun refuses to name the damn thing.
minhyuk thinks it’s laughable, the way kihyun is so adamant about staying detached but has missed three organic chem lectures in favour of checking on the kitten or worrying until his stomach flips during their free hour.
“you should bring him over you know,” minhyuk says again over the phone.
“for what? so you can name him and force me to keep him?”
“of course not. jooheon needs friends, i’m selfish, remember. and anyways, who knows, maybe heon can recognize if the kitty is a familiar or not?” kihyun sighs, there minhyuk goes again, so fixated on this concept of kihyun’s familiar. kihyun’s made peace with not having one and so should minhyuk.
besides, this kitten was just a kitten. it liked anything another regular kitty would like; like cat treats and scritches under its chin and kneading kihyun’s fleece blanket like bread. he was just a cat and that’s all he’d ever be.
“you’re ridiculous.” kihyun flits over to where the cat has made a bed in the pile of kihyun’s laundry. he seemed to like that; the smell of kihyun’s detergent, at least that was one thing they had in common.
“so when are you releasing him then? because heon and i would gladly take him off your hands,” minhyuk says. and kihyun bites the bait.
“no. he’s mine.” minhyuk laughs at him for another three days.
-
it's 15 days since kihyun has found the cat and kihyun comes home from lecture to him being nowhere in the apartment.
kihyun checks the sink and it’s empty, albeit the bowl he had left had been flipped over onto its side. he checked the living room, behind the tv, and under the couch and yet no kitten to be seen. he cooed like a damn idiot and nothing. he shook a treats bag like crazy and no tiny mewls were heard.
until he found the little wet paw prints that marked the carpet to his bedroom.
kihyun couldn’t wrap his head around how the paw prints stopped at his door and didn’t follow anywhere else. the cat could not have been smart enough to retrace the steps exactly or work a doorknob.
but he tries anyways. turns the handles and pushes the door in.
“boy? where are you?” kihyun says lowly and yelps at the sight of a man spread out on his bed, head pressed into his pillows.
“what the fuck,” kihyun says, and the man flinches.
**Author's Note:**
> this is my first chaptered fic and also my first that isn't revolved around smut OTL... maybe...future smut? this is loosely based on sailor moon (usagi and luna) but also any sort of generic witch and familiar dynamic. anyways, thank you for reading the first chapter of you're meant for me! ^~^ (also here's the referenced vid of that lady fighting absolutely no one... for anyone that didn't catch the reference lol https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j5uES3lA9OU) |
019fadd5ae3f4293b778d64605dafc7d | ['57dd52266560495192f39be9d5b332b2'] | A quick shimmy up a tree put her above the eye-line of the two thugs that came towards the beach, and her. Almost silently, she dropped behind them, her leg swinging to catch of them in the knees. He buckled towards the ground as the other turned, raising his weapon. Cass' arm was a blur of motion as she struck him under his chin with the heel of her palm, his jaw closing with a satisfying _crack_ as his body dropped. The first man was on his knees, trying to scramble back to his feet when her knee slammed into his temple.
The jungle was silent now. Artemis had finally shut down the Bat-plane completely. The stillness allowed her to hear the next attack long before she would have seen it. Cass ducked and rolled to the side as a crackle of gunfire thundered through the night air. Another burst followed that one. They were close. Reaching into her belt, she pulled out one of the batarangs that every one of Bruce's adopted children carried. Without looking, she flung it to the right, away from her, away from the source of the gunfire. It impacted a tree about thirty feet away with a _thwak_. Cass moved to her left quickly as the goons turned to fire on that tree, already grabbing one of the smoke balls from her utility belt. She threw it in between the two men. The ball immediately expelled a black cloud that turned the already black night of the jungle into something out of nightmares.
The two goons shouted and coughed in confusion as Cass leapt in between them. She didn't need to see them to know what was coming next. Cass loved the darkness, it was her natural habitat. Their weakness, relying on their eyesight, was her strength. She used her other senses to know exactly where they were. An elbow to the stomach of one and a fist to the kidney of the other bent them both over. She put her hands behind their heads, and brought them together. Hard. Both goons dropped to the ground as the smoke screen cleared.
"Equipo dieciséis, informe." A radio one of the men wore shouted to life. Cass immediately dropped to her knees, and lowered the volume. Intelligence on Bane had said his goons travelled in squads of six. The squad's final member was trying to reach out to his teammates.
"¡Equipo dieciséis!¡Adelante!" With the volume lowered, Cass could hear the man now. He wasn't far. She turned the volume all the way down on the radio, taking it with her as she circled around behind him. He was easily the youngest of the squad, and was visibly shaking as he crept through the jungle. She had no problem coming up right behind him.
As he reached for his radio again, Cass turned the volume up on hers. The young man swung around, rifle rising, as he heard his own voice behind him. Cass grabbed the rifle, twisting it out of his hands. She swung it like a bat, the butt end of the gun striking the man in the face. The crack reverberated through the jungle. He fell to the ground, and did not move again.
The jungle was silent, though not for long. Artemis and Stephanie were running into the jungle now, the latter letting out one of her aforementioned war whoops. They both stopped as they saw Cass drop the gun onto the last goon. She saw her sister's shoulders sag is disappointment.
"Oh come on, Cass," Steph's voice was a whine. "You were supposed to leave one for me." Leave one for her? Cass wasn't sure if Steph was joking or serious. She had always been told to eliminate your enemy as quickly and efficiently as possible. She didn't leave table scraps.
"No," Cass answered simply.
The older blonde stood behind Steph, a hip cocked to the side with a hand resting on it. Her head was tilted, and even in the darkness, Cass could tell that she was squinting at her. Cass couldn't tell if Artemis was impressed or annoyed with her efforts. She decided it was impressed.
The three women moved farther into the jungle, Artemis holding a small tracking device that pointed the way to where the signal had come from. Cass walked off to the side of the two women, keeping her ears perked for any sound of other squads.
A clearing appeared before them. All three stopped at the tree line, kneeling and looking for any sign of Bane's thugs. They didn't see any. Cass and Artemis stepped out into the clearing first, Steph hanging back. A sudden crack of a twig made Cass twirl, dropping to a crouch and raising a batarang.
"Black Bat! Tigress!" She recognized the voice. Tim. As she slowly lowered the batarang and rose, a squeal of delight actually startled her.
"Timmy!" In a flash, Steph shot past her at a dead sprint and jumped into the third Robin's arms before he even made it into the clearing. The blonde wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms encircling his neck as she kissed him deeply. At least she had followed Barbara’s orders. Cass never understood such excessive displays of affection, but she knew where they came from. She felt something, relief maybe, at knowing they had at least found one of the boys.
After breaking the kiss, Steph dropped to the ground and punched Tim in the arm. Hard. Physical violence had always been a part of Stephanie's relationships, either from her, as was the case with Tim, or mutually, as was the case with Jason. | 47bb1a9c022c4cf2924cddebfa919fd5 | ['57dd52266560495192f39be9d5b332b2'] | As he reached the outer edge, Jason was already buried deep within the swarming mass, which Dick estimated to be at least thirty strong. Dick swung, one escrima stick connecting with a goon's face before he jumped into the air, contorting his body sideways to avoid a thug diving at him. Rolling off the man's back, he ducked down, swinging a leg out in a sweep that knocked two more thugs to the ground. He planted his escrima sticks into their chests and pressed the end, sending more electricity into their bodies.
But there was a problem. One of his sticks sputtered and died, out of juice. The other had an indicator light on it that said its energy level was dangerously low as well. It seemed he'd have to start doing things the old fashioned way again. In a fluid motion, Dick stood and jumped, launching a spinning kick to a thug's face. Landing back on earth, he swung his escrima sticks rapidly, moving around the blocking attempts of another goon before grabbing the back of the man's head and smashing it down against his raised knee.
Dick could see Jason doing what he did best: brawling. His younger brother was punching, shooting, pistol whipping, and kicking the thugs around him as fast as possible. It wasn't the most efficient form of fighting, but right now simply causing as much pain to the enemy might be the most effective strategy. Dick saw Jason drop a pistol, out of ammunition, and grab two more from his shoulder holsters.
While Jason's brawling mentality was well suited to large numbers of enemies, the sheer concentration of Bane's thugs was making it difficult for Dick to fight the way he preferred. He didn't have the space for his more fluid fighting style, and it was showing. As the thugs pressed in tighter, they began landing more and more shots. One of them pulled a knife and came in swinging wildly, forcing Dick to retreat. One swing sliced through his sleeve, cutting into his skin. A sharp hiss escaped from his lips and Dick leapt back as the thug kept coming. As much as he wanted to keep his attention solely on the knife-wielding thug, a fist flew in and connected with his ribs. Dick fell to one knee, his breathing labored. Another swing of the knife sliced open the chest of his outfit, a thin red line of blood beginning to trickle out. Scowling, Dick took both escrima sticks and brought them up under the man's chin. He flew back into another thug with a crash.
Deciding he needed more distance, Dick back flipped backwards, only to land on the body of a thug either he or Jason had dispatched earlier. Pain like fire shot up his leg, and he let out a small yell as he grabbed at his ankle. Looking up, he saw Jason being grabbed by three thugs, with more trying to pull him to the ground or coming in to take swings at him. A thug stepped forward, laughing lightly.
"Bane said you boys wouldn't be much trouble. Not sure where these fearsome reputations have come from. You're just boys in over your head." Dick smirked through the pain as he got to his feet.
"Yeah, well, we're used to that." Dropping an escrima stick, Dick grabbed a batarang from his belt and threw it at the thug. The man ducked, and the batarang flew past him. He chuckled.
"Looks like you missed, little birdie." A soft chuckle escaped Dick's lips in all the chaos.
"No, it just went over your head," he taunted. Behind the thug, the batarang flew right at the thugs dog piling Jason. It embedded itself into the back of one of the goons for a half second, before exploding with a grey gas. The thugs all started coughing as the gas enveloped them. When it cleared a few seconds later, Jason was standing over a group of unconscious thugs. Dick smiled.
"Neat trick, bird boy, but that won't help you with me." The thug started forward, raising his knife when a shot rang out, catching the man in the back of his knee. As he crumpled down to the ground with an agonized scream, Dick looked up to see Jason aiming a pistol in the thug's direction, nodding as he pulled another from the back of his pants. The older man nodded back at his younger brother as he walked over to the thug, who was still clutching his knee, and sent him into darkness with a kick to his face.
Another of Bane's thugs was sent flying by a kick to the chest when Dick felt a sting in his neck, just above the collar of his armor. He shook his head, not sure what it was, when that old familiar feeling began creeping up on him.
That feeling like the walls were closing in. That feeling like he couldn't breathe. That feeling like he was failing, over and over again. He stumbled. Dick tried to rub his eyes through his mask. It literally felt like the walls were actually moving closer, like the floor was tilting wildly. He blinked heavily, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, opening them just in time to see an assailant come at him, swinging wildly. Dick barely ducked, more like staggered, out of the way, and landed his foot into the back of the man's knee as he tried to catch his breath.
What was happening? He hadn't had a panic attack like this in years, not since... not since Wally died. That one had lasted for hours. He shook his head again, trying to push back the walls that were closing in through shear force of will. ‘ _Snap out of it, Grayson,_ ’ he thought to himself. ‘ _You're better than this; you can beat this. Just breathe._ ’ |
775d971f1267493eb20703af4a31d697 | ['57f24c6721d3400b99bd035bb6d7e7d0'] |
With A Rusty Pipe
**Author's Note:**
> This comes from a headcanon that my friend Leilani and I have, being in which Molly only swears when the last straw has broken the camel's back.
>
> So I wrote this for her.
>
> I also wasn't sure what to tag it, so I'm sorry if it's wrong.
> Unbeta'd and unbritpicked.
Today was not going well for Molly. In fact, it was going downright bloody badly, by her standards. She'd woken up late—again—and missed the Tube, so she had to catch a cab to work, meaning she had to miss her first cup of coffee of the day, and she ran straight into her boss on the way into the lab.
Literally.
She collided into the older woman, who gave her a stern glare over the frames of severe metal glasses.
"Oh!" she squeaked, jumping back and patting her hair back into place in its hastily done ponytail. "I'm so sorry, Dr Collins!" She straightened her shirt under her jacket and tried to edge around to get her lab coat.
"Molly," Dr Collins started, consulting the clipboard that she'd had under her arm, "This is the fifth time you've been late in the last month." Molly froze in place, then ducked her head as a silver eyebrow lifted.
"I'm sorry—I don't try to be late, I just have the worst luck with the Tube," she replied.
"Don't let it happen again," Dr Collins finished, sidestepping Molly.
She worked through her lunch break to make up for being late. Nobody noticed.
-
Towards the end of her shift, Sherlock waltzed into the lab (there really wasn't any other word for it, if Molly was honest with herself), obviously on another case and not just for the equipment based on the way his flatmate was nagging after him.
“Sherlock, you need to bloody eat,” John was saying. “No matter what you seem to think, you can’t possibly expect to survive off of nicotine, adrenaline, and caffeine!” Sherlock only made a brief moment’s eye contact with Molly—and her heart fluttered dangerously in her ribcage—before giving his eyes a roll that seemed to go through his whole body to John. “You just rolled your eyes. Sherlock, you’re not a damn teenager, you’re a grown man!”
Despite how her day had gone so far and that she wasn’t so sure Sherlock was even allowed access, she let him in. She might’ve hovered a bit, though, which caused him to round on her about an hour and a half into his visit.
“Haven’t you got other places to be?” he snapped, looking up from the dropper he held for a brief moment. Molly startled and took a few steps back.
“Well, I’m honestly not sure if you’re supposed to be here,” she replied, hoping her voice stayed perfectly even. He glanced up again and lifted an eyebrow, causing her to feel like her face was flushing tomato red. “I’ll get some coffee, I haven’t had any yet today.”
She scurried from the room, but not quick enough to miss the reproaching, “Sherlock...” John aimed at the detective and the answering noisy sigh.
As she got her coffee, she thought she’d surprise Sherlock and John and picked up a few more coffees from the cafeteria the way she’d had drilled into her head by Sherlock from their early visits: one plain black, and the other black with two sugars.
When she came back, Molly noticed that the others hadn’t realized she’d left the door open—or they didn’t care. John was standing behind Sherlock, who was leaned back against John’s chest, and John had his arms around Sherlock’s middle and his face pressed into Sherlock’s curls. The fingers on one of Sherlock’s hands were laced between the fingers on one of John’s, and the expression on his face while he waited for whatever results it was he’d come to find was one of quiet contentment and concentration that Molly felt was too private for her to have seen. She tripped on the loose, metal threshold into the lab on her way in, the contact from her trainers making it clang and clatter, and spilled all three cups all over herself and the linoleum floor.
“Oh—oh, no,” she groaned, stooping to pick up the paper cups from the floor and biting her tongue to hold back a tiny swear that she really wanted to scream from the top of her lungs. She was a polite girl, she wouldn’t swear, not a bit.
“Molly, you really need to be more careful,” Sherlock commented dryly. Her face burned, and she could feel tears welling. No, no, no, no, this wasn’t the day she’d wanted. She blinked the tears away just as John came over, carrying two large handfuls of the flimsy paper towels the lab supplied.
“Don’t listen to him,” John said warmly, crouching to mop up the spilled coffee. “You know how he gets on cases.”
Regardless, Molly couldn’t hold back a tiny hiccupped sob of “Damn!” as she stacked up the cups and plucked sadly at her coffee-soaked blouse.
John stopped where he was, halfway between standing and crouching, hands full of sodden paper towels. “You alright?” he asked.
“Yes, John, Molly is fine. I need your help over here,” Sherlock interrupted. “I also need you to phone Lestrade, I think I’ve got it.” John sighed and finished standing, then deposited the coffee towels into the bin by the door. “Hurry up!” Sherlock groused. John made a bit of an irritated noise in the back of his throat.
“Can you wait, then?” John walked over and dug Sherlock’s phone out of his pocket and made a call. Molly cleaned up the spilled coffee as John talked and Sherlock interjected with the occasional bit of his own brand of commentary. | 0e1d071f2ed44bf296c3a4205d094993 | ['57f24c6721d3400b99bd035bb6d7e7d0'] | “I’m going to read,” Sherlock sniffed, turning his nose up and moving back to take his book up from the afghan. He flicked the book open and the bookmark out of the way with an easy twist of his wrist. John nestled his glass of champagne against the cooler and pulled out the foods he packed, one container at a time to spread them out for eating.
The quiet that settled over them was another easy one, only barely broken by the sounds of nature and the soft turn of pages. Sherlock couldn’t have read twenty pages more before he read another passage from the book he held:
“Here: _‘...But you, you:_ you. _Why did you cut us all off?’_
_‘I loved you too much to keep in touch.’_
_‘What does_ that _mean?’_
_‘Don’t_ ask _me,’ she said, thrashing a bit, her arms like oars rowing in the blue summer evening lightlessness._ ”
The breath caught and tangled around a sudden lump that leapt into John’s throat. He couldn’t speak for a few long moments. He heard the soft clink of glass against teeth, and knew that Sherlock was biting the rim of his glass, a nervous habit he’d had for ages. “Was that—” John paused to clear his throat when his voice broke. “Was that why?” _Why you left, why you did that, why you never said a word to me once in so, so, so long?_
“In essence, yes.” Sherlock’s voice was a quiet rumble like distant thunder.
John would have loved to push and prod more details of their time apart out of him, because using a passage from a book to explain without explaining was something so _Sherlock_ that it took John’s breath away, but the volume of Sherlock’s voice told him that he would be better off not. Something twisted in his stomach, still, about the words Sherlock had read out. It made his heart hurt deep, deep down to think about.
He loved them—him?—too much to stay in contact. While he was pretending at being dead.
There must have been a threat against them—or him. It was the only logical reason, knowing Moriarty and his games. John picked up his glass of champagne from the grass and took a mouthful. The bubbles burned like fire in his mouth, almost painful like the distant memories.
When John turned, he was being watched from behind a compact paperback. “Have you anything else to read me from that book of yours, then?” he forced out, pressing his lips into what he hoped a warmish, bemused smile and hoping Sherlock couldn’t tell which memories he’d been reliving behind his champagne flute (“I will burn the _heart_ out of you,” was particularly loud in his ears). Sherlock’s eyes dropped to the page held by lithe fingers.
“ _More than anything else he wanted to walk the streets of Emerald City with Elphaba—there was no more beautiful place to be in love, especially at dusk as the shop lights went on, golden against the blue-purple evening sky. He had never been in love before, he now saw. It humbled him. It scared him._ ”
Their eyes met again, and at the heat in Sherlock’s gaze, John had to look away before he burned up like a scrap of paper held carefully over a candle.
“Christ, that’s, er,” he breathed, mussing a hand through his hair. “If you’re trying to tell me you love me, you’ve got a surprisingly subtle way of going about it.” He didn’t dare look at Sherlock; he didn’t dare risk meeting that gaze again, not with Sherlock looking at him like _that._ Instead he drained the last of his champagne and leaned back to set his glass back by the cooler. Leave it to Sherlock to surprise him with some secretly romantic mindset he had buried under all that iron-tight intelligence and mask of indifference.
“If I wanted to tell you that, I wouldn’t have beaten around the bush.” John looked up. Sherlock had set the book aside and had moved back towards him. “Come here,” he demanded, reaching out and taking John by the elbows. John didn’t resist and let Sherlock pull him close, relaxing into the wiry arms that slipped around his middle and held him tight. “John Watson, I love you,” Sherlock purred into another champagne-flavored kiss that had John melting like chocolate in the sunlight.
**Author's Note:**
> Sherlock is quoting directly out of _Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West_.
>
> In the version he's reading, his passages come from pages 227, 240, and 247. |
cddcb1d0236c411db129976e51645fb2 | ['581fddadd0814f2fb65a8c159dc50079'] | “What?” Shadow lifts his head, eyes meeting Sweeney’s. Sweeney grimaces and takes a few strides toward Shadow, hands reaching out to grasp him by his shoulders.
“Shower. We need showers. And you… need to forget a few things,” Sweeney explains, his tone edging on losing its patience, but there’s a bit of genuine concern still there, floating on the surface.
“Forget? I need to forget everything,” Shadow says, tempted to pull out of Sweeney’s grasp, but instead, he leans into it. He needed to forget everything–
“Except for what it’s like to simply feel someone. I think you could do with a bit of creature comfort, Shadow. Take it from me, I’m an expert on comfort and indulgence,” Sweeney leads again, taking Shadow by the front of his shirt, guiding him to the tiny bathroom, that is made tinier by their presence. Two large men trying to make room to undress as it fills with steam. All elbows and bumping shoulders.
Shadow had spent the better part of the last four years sharing a shower with strangers. Low Key had always advised him to remember, that it’s a safer bet to just enjoy yourself, than try and focus on keeping yourself hidden. Shyness was weakness.
‘And my friend, you ain’t got nothin’ to be shy about.’
Shadow looked over the length of Sweeney as they stepped into the too-small bathtub beneath the spray, head to foot, and considered that neither of them had much to be shy about.
It wasn’t charged. There was no tension, no desire… It was bizarre, to feel callous hands rubbing soap from a tiny bottle over his dirt caked fingers and up his arms. It was caring. Shadow was barely able to make himself move, that numbness was immobilizing. Empty. The grave had been empty, and now Shadow… Shadow felt empty too.
“Don’t think about it,” Sweeney advises, “Thinkin’ won’t change a thing.”
Shadow nods, he agrees, he wants to stop thinking, but he can’t. He can’t shut that moment off, it’s on repeat, interspersed with images of Laura’s mouth around another man, the crunch of metal, the late night texts, ‘I love you, puppy’, empty, empty, empty…
Shadow reaches up, fingers sliding into damp red hair, and he holds fast, bringing Sweeney down so they’re connected, brows pressed together, as if somehow the physical connection can make the load shareable. Sweeney grasps Shadow by the side of his neck, pressing in to meet that pressure. Their eyes are closed, but Shadow doesn’t pretend Sweeney is anyone other than who he is. His grip is unmistakable.
Shadow focuses on that instead. The slope of Sweeney’s brow and the strength of his grasp. He can smell whiskey on Sweeney’s breath as it wafts over his face, hear his heartbeat and the pound of water against their skin.
“What do you think about, Sweeney?” Shadow asks, not letting go, but slipping closer. They’re chest to chest, Sweeney’s other hand wraps around Shadow’s back, broad hand splaying against the small of Shadow’s back. Sweeney tucks in by Shadow’s ear to speak.
“Big breasted women, and piles of money,” he says with a low laugh. Shadow’s lips break into a smile and he chuckles against Sweeney’s shoulder.
“Yeah? That it, then?” Shadow challenges quietly. Sweeney’s silent for a long moment and then a bit of honesty rises up in his throat like a cry for help. It’s said so softly, Shadow feels as though he’s misjudged Sweeney from the very beginning.
“I think about home. It’s a home I’ve never seen. Immigrants brought me here with them, and I saw industry, I saw death, I saw myself forgotten. I think about… rolling green hills, towering structures of stone, of saucers of sweet cream, and the smell of wheat in the sunlight… Imagine that. Homesick for a place I’ve never really lived,” Sweeney hums thoughtfully, hand slipping slightly lower on Shadow’s back, straying into intimate territory.
Shadow runs his fingers through Sweeney’s hair, strokes his fingers across his neck, and tries to soothe him. They had that in common. Homesick for some place you never really had… It was an impossible void to fill. Shadow had thought he’d finally filled it when he met Laura, but now… Now he looked back and it was all tainted with dark, sticky betrayal.
“We could go,” Shadow suggests quietly, “Leave right now. Fuck Wednesday… fuck luck, and ghosts, and all of this.”
“Wander the moors like a couple of brooding Bronte heroes?” Sweeney laughs softly as he speaks and leans his head back to look Shadow in the eye. Shadow leans up and closes the gap between them, Sweeney turns his head slightly to meet him, their mouths meeting crookedly in a brief and experimental press.
The water was going cold, but Shadow wasn’t ready to leave this magical space where anything was suddenly possible.
“Why not?” Shadow asks, and Sweeney nods.
“Alright. First thing tomorrow, then. I need my beauty rest first,” Sweeney says. As they step out of the shower, Shadow still carries the ghost of an empty coffin and a betrayal like a stone around his neck, but he stands a bit straighter with Sweeney’s hand against his back. They tuck into bed, a tangle of limbs.
Wednesday comes early in the morning to collect them, and makes no mention of their compromising position. All hasty plans to run are forgotten. But as they head for Wisconsin, Sweeney and Shadow stand a bit closer, and when no one is looking, are linked at their pinkies, a single thread of solidarity, to remind them just what it’s like to feel somebody.
5. specters in small spaces
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> canonical major character death, minor book spoilers | be03402f5624483b8def598a18627c24 | ['581fddadd0814f2fb65a8c159dc50079'] | “Gettin’ cold feet on me, are yeh?” Sweeney take’s Shadow by the hand, and doesn’t let him slip into anxiousness. He closes the door with a kick of his boot heel against the panelling. Shadow stops when Sweeney stops, and he considers how unprepared he is for this. Sweeney seems to have known where this was going all along. There’s a small drugstore bag on the nightstand that brings Shadow a small amount of relief.
“I’ve been around for forty-thousand years, Shadow. I’ve lived, I’ve drank, I’ve fucked, I’ve loved… Don’t look so nervous. Your precious cherry is in good hands,” Sweeney’s vulgar and mildly insensitive in how he’s treating this, but for Shadow, that’s refreshing. It makes it all seem so much less important. Still, a word sticks out, it’s throbbing against the forefront of his mind now that it’s been said. Hard to ignore, but Shadow is determined to do just that.
“I’m not a virgin,” Shadow counters as Sweeney slowly begins to pry open the buttons of Shadow’s shirt. Exposed skin is caressed by callous fingertips. Fingertips that were plucking pleasurable chords out of Shadow as they skated across his nipples as easily as they’d plucked gold coins out of thin air.
_With panache._
“Might as well be,” Sweeney tucks his face into the crook of Shadow’s neck and breathes him in. He drags his tongue over Shadow, producing a shiver. His teeth follow to leave a mark, a proper hickey. Shadow hasn’t had one since before he and Laura were married. It feels good. It sends blood steadily southward. Sweeney’s hands feel oddly massive. The sheer mass of him, his height of seven feet, and the broadness of his shoulders make Shadow feel oddly delicate.
Sweeney strips Shadow first, then himself, and brings him to the bed. Shadow’s back hits the slippery quilted blanket and nerves make his muscles tense. Every inch of him is pulled taut, but Sweeney doesn’t seem to mind so much now that they’re naked and in bed together. Shadow looks at Sweeney’s body, he looks at the length of his body, the thickness of his uncut cock, heavy between his legs, the soft trail of chest hair that tapered its way down his body and between his legs. He’s a man. There are no gentle curves for Shadow’s hands to fit into, only firm planes of muscle and strong angles. It’s different and Shadow finds a strange sort of comfort in that.
This is not a retread of something else, this is not some woman that will have to stack up against his late wife, this is Sweeney. Sweeney who, for some bizarre reason, liked him. What was more bizarre, Shadow realized, was how strongly that sentiment was returned. Sweeney’s legs tangle with Shadow’s and his arms wrap around him while they kiss and familiarize themselves with the shapes of one another.
Shadow’s hands rove, he feels the hard jut of Sweeney’s erect prick against his thigh, he tangles his fingers in red hair and holds on tight. Shadow tries to let his mind drift off as Sweeney’s lips drift lower. Sweeney’s mouth is so warm and inviting when it sinks around Shadow that Shadow chokes on the air he gasps for. Sweeney’s hand is steady against his stomach, pressing him down against the mattress as he sucks greedily at Shadow’s cock.
The act had meaning. It was something Shadow needed. He felt a surge of confidence and strength for the first time since leaving prison. He felt justified and satisfied and wanted. He felt desired. He’d asked himself over and over what he’d done wrong to drive Laura to Robby, but there was no room for that question anymore. The only thing there was room for was the wanton way Shadow said Sweeney’s name.
Sweeney takes his time, he lets Shadow thrust down his throat, he encourages Shadow to let go with moans of approval, until Shadow can take no more and spills himself in Sweeney’s mouth. Shadow’s hips buck and his legs shake, his back bowing away from the mattress as he fills Sweeney’s mouth with everything he has. When he’s spent, Sweeney swallows and lets Shadow’s cock slide out of his mouth. Shadow is sweating and panting, he’s feeling blissful. The way his body goes slack and relaxes is precisely what Sweeney wants.
Sweeney doesn’t have to struggle to keep Shadow relaxed as he shuffles around for drugstore lubricant from a generic clear and purple bottle. He pours it over his fingers and goes to work.
“Wh…What are you doing?” Shadow protests halfheartedly. Sweeney’s fingers slip easily inside Shadow, rocking and stretching while looking for a rather easy to find but very effective spot. Shadow feels Sweeney’s finger crook against his prostate and his cock twitches, a bit of cum dripping from him as a result. It feels too good, Shadow is still so sensitive. He protests with something between a grunt and a whine. It doesn’t deter Sweeney.
“Look at me, Shadow,” Sweeney insists as Shadow’s head lolls to one side on the pillow and his eyes squeeze shut. Shadow doesn’t respond, he stays where he is, trying to make sense of the sensation he’s experiencing. Sweeney hooks his finger against Shadow’s sweet spot again, rhythmic, punctuating his words, “Look. At. Me.”
Shadow gives in, every rub against that spot making him moan, startled by his own neediness. He looks at Sweeney, meets his eyes, and finds a strange sense of centeredness in their gaze. Sweeney’s focus make Shadow feel even more exposed than he initially thought possible. He wants to bury his face in the comforter and never look up into those soft brown eyes again. Sweeney holds him in that stare, while his fingers properly lubricate Shadow. Shadow knows what he’s being prepared for, but when he looks at Sweeney’s cock again, he feels as though nothing would ever truly prepare him for that. |
cc0d07a95ee344d4acc10d34cd1a253b | ['582e1ad44541481b829ff3fb29a9f300'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> This was some headcanon/fanfiction I came up whilst listening to Lost one's weeping
> Good song btw
> I recommend it
Jon trembled slightly, hearing those words any kid dreads.
"Would somebody like to come up and answer this question?"
He glanced around the room, seeing if maybe the teacher was looking at another student, but no. He HAD to be the smart one, didn't he?
"Jon? Would you like to come answer this? I'm sure someone as clever as you will answer this easily."
Jon nodded, shakily, then slowly got up from his seat. He took a deep breath, walking up to the board. It towered before him, since he certainly wasn't the tallest in the class. He nervously picked up the chalk from the teacher's hand, staring up at the words on the board. Could you even call them words? They were nothing he had seen before. He gulped, looking for anything he recognized before bracing himself, beginning to write an answer. This sort of stuff was far beyond him, let alone the rest of his class, who were currently in shock from what he had to do.
"How is he doing that..?"
"What is he even writing?!"
"Isn't this what the seniors learn?"
There were mutters in the background, throwing him off slightly, but he mainly kept focused. He slowly began to piece it together, soon managing to understand the question. He eventually finished, stepping back to admire the board, now covered in numbers, letters, shapes, graphs and more. He sighed, relieved, smiling. The teacher looked at him with a warm smile.
"I can't believe it. You did it all right!" She grinned, brightly
Jon felt really proud of himself, for once.
That soon ended.
"Well, all except for a few things here and there.."
He looked at the ground in shame, hearing a bit of quiet snickering from his classmates. That snickering turned to laughing soon enough, and they weren't being quiet about it. Jon was on the verge of tears. To most kids this would be no big deal, but not to him.
"You're just sensitive, that's all."
"They're not that mean, you're just too nice."
"Quit crying, it'll get you nowhere."
"Know what? I've had enough of you, Jonathan. I've had enough of you and your wimpy attitude! You're going nowhere in life! Nowhere! Go do whatever you want, nobody cares enough to help you.."
The words rung in his head, strongly remembering each one. He was always sensitive, easily upset, and his mother was always so supportive of him. Was. After time, as he progressively got worse and worse and handling things, as did his mother, who quickly became fed up of him. He'd come home, crying, and she'd try help him but, if he didn't calm down quickly, that was it. That was as far as her empathy would go. As a tear slipped down his cheek, he simply ran out of the room, just not brave enough to face his classmates. He leant against the wall, staring at the ceiling, sobbing silently. He soon felt the warmth of someone next to him. He looked up, trying to hold back tears.
"You don't need to be so upset. We all get stuff wrong, it's natural." They spoke softly to him.
Mark.
His only friend.
"B-But I got it wrong in front of e-everyone..!" Jon stuttered, trying to refrain from crying.
"That doesn't matter. You done much better than any of them could do." Mark smiled slightly, looking down at the shorter boy. He wiped a few of his tears away with his sleeve.
"S-So.. W-What now..?"
"Shh.. Calm down, alright? We're not doing anything until you're calm."
Jon took a deep breath, calming down. He looked up again.
"Better now..?"
"Yeah, I do feel a bit better now.."
"Right. C'mon, it's better you come in now or else you'll get bombarded with questions at lunch." Mark laughed slightly, opening the door for Jon.
Jon laughed a bit as well, walking inside back to his desk. Mark did the same. The rest of the lesson went pretty smoothly until the bell for lunch rang
That would be when the chaos would start
2. Chapter 2
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> //Can you recite the area ratio formula?//
> //Can you recite your dreams as a child?//
> //Who threw those dreams down the drain,//
> //Hey, who was it?//
> //But I already know..//
Jon sat silently at one of the tables, watching everyone else. He sighed slightly, taking the cap off of his head and staring at it. This was one of his favourites, the one he'd wear almost everywhere. It had a little crown, embroidered onto it. It had been given to him by his dad, who always called him his 'little prince'. Jon smiled, thinking of that, and put it back on, pretending it was a real crown. He smiled at the thought, in his imagination, his childish imagination, he was a prince and everyone else were his subjects. He glanced around, grinning.
His eyes were quickly set on a specific group of people. There were only 3 of them, but he didn't know any of their names. Despite that, he could've sworn there was a fourth one with them? He shook his head, then waved, hoping to get their attention. One of them looked up at him, then looked at the other two, muttering something to them whilst gesturing to Jon. The other two looked at him for a second, a bit confused, so slowly looked away again.
"I'm sure they're just thinking of how to greet me, that's all!" Jon thought to himself, smiling.
Soon enough he saw the fourth kid walk over to the other three. One of the three muttered something to him, pointing to Jon. He glared at Jon, walking over to him.
"Hey! You! Why're you staring at my friends!?" He yelled at him, grabbing him by the collar. His accent was thick, unlike any he's heard before.
"I-I'm sorry! I-I didn't know..!" Jon stuttered, nervously.
The taller kid nodded, dropping him and walking back to the others. Jon stayed on the floor for a few seconds before getting up. He sighed, looking around then sitting back on the bench, looking up at the ceiling.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> hhh
> I had no ideas for this
> R.I.P me | 8dfdbdd415214295b544b79583c2e4c5 | ['582e1ad44541481b829ff3fb29a9f300'] | “N-No! Y-You can't be dying! J-Jon! W-Wake up!” He nudged his friend’s body, trying to wake him up, but he wouldn't. Jon was dead. Matt just burst into tears, hugging his cold, limp body, praying that somehow, by holding him tight enough, he'd come back. But that was just nonsense. He was gone, and wasn't coming back.
******************************************************************************************************
Matt wasn't the same after that. Weeks later, after the funeral had finished, he decided to go back to Jon's old house, for old times sake. As he wandered around, he noticed a pastel blue book, titled ‘Diary’. Out of curiosity, he picked it up and began to read, soon realising this was Jon's diary. He had no idea that this is what Jon thought about. He didn't know he cared so much, yet had no care for himself. Matt just froze as he read some later paragraphs, the guilt weighing him down completely flattening his ego. As he read that, it all flashed back to him, every horrific moment of Jon's demise. He hated that memory. The one person he loved more than himself died right before his eyes. He remembered it too well..
Matt looked to his side and noticed a pencil, likely the one Jon used to write with. He picked it up and began to write..
‘Dear diary..’
2. The Bedroom
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> That diary left more questions than answers.
> He wanted to know if there was anything else his friend had been hiding.
> And there was.
Matt sighed, finishing what he was writing and closing the diary, gently setting it and the pencil back on the desk. Something kept bothering him, though. That diary left more questions than answers. He wanted to know if there was anything else his friend had been hiding, but where to start. Soon enough, he got an idea. Eduardo would be home soon, maybe he could ask him? Matt walked outside, quietly shutting the door behind him, careful to make sure nobody knew he was there. He glanced around, watching for Eduardo coming back.
He waited about half an hour before he finally showed up, Matt rushing over to him the second he saw him.
"What's gotten you so excited all of a sudden?"
"I'm not excited, I just need to ask you something."
"Well, make it quick. I want to sleep."
"Will do. So, you know that Jon, well.. killed himself, and I was wondering-"
"Just get to the point."
"Do you know why?"
"Just look around the house, the place is littered with his stuff. You're bound to find something."
"Right, thanks."
"Whatever. Can I go now?"
Matt nodded then ran over to the door, quickly opening it and running inside. He didn't know where to start, it felt like that movie he and Tom had watched once. He could never remember the name of it, though. He stood there, strongly remembering the movie, but not the name.
"Wasn't it called 'Notes'? No, it was longer than that. 'Clues'? No, definitely 'Notes'.. Was it? Ugh, I'm getting sidetracked.."
He shook his head and began wandering around. He still had no idea where to start, but eventually decided on the bedroom. He walked into Jon's bedroom, glancing around. Despite their friendship, Jon had never let Matt in his room, quite abruptly. He thought back to one of the many times this had happened...
\-------------------------------------------------------
The two sat on the sofa, watching some horribly-made horror movie, laughing at almost every scene. They occasionally even mocked the scripting, much to the other's amusement.
"Oh no, my friend's gone missing in the middle of the woods? Better go the exact same way she did. I totally won't get lost." Jon joked, happily. Matt was glad to see him smile.
"Look! A creepy guy in the woods! I should totally go up and see him!" Matt laughed, managing to make Jon laugh as well. After a few minutes of this, Jon paused the movie, getting up.
"Hold on, I've just got to go get something from my room. I'll be back in a minute."
"Oh, I've never seen your room. Can I come?" Matt asked with a hopeful smile.
Jon frowned, saying nothing before walking to his room. This left Matt confused, not sure what Jon could be doing that meant he couldn't come with him. He shrugged and just stared at the paused screen, the edges flickering occasionally. He laughed a bit at the perfectly timed pause, right at the perfect moment.
\-------------------------------------------------------
Matt sighed, remembering that memory. He quietly walked to Jon's room, opening the door before walking in. He gazed at everything, a little amazed. The walls were a pastel blue, well, what you could see of the walls. They were absolutely covered with posters, pictures, sketches, and notes. The posters were the usual; Bands and singers, films, there was one for a game, and a few other random things. The pictures mainly just seemed to be of himself, but the odd one was him and Matt, making the ginger man smile slightly. The sketches were odd, mainly just of poses in some specific order. After some thinking, he realised these were for practice. Jon didn't really like drawing, but he did enjoy dancing, so these sketches made sense; these were poses for routines. Now, as interesting as the other things were, the notes were the things to really catch Matt's attention. He picked one off the wall, reading it. It looked to be more of a business card than a note:
'FixYourFaults - Call 44-3069-990118 for a quick fix. Remember: No one will love you if you're unattractive' (Hooray for references!) |
b3ced0b133ce49cbac78609cc5b42ef6 | ['58312410f88e4744a49e373807685c80'] | "What's all this about?"
Eddie looked back at Ritchie over his shoulder, giving him a death glare.
"Ill get started then."
Richie ran a lube covered finger over Eddie's hole, teasing it with light pressure. Eddie dropped his head down, breathing heavy in anticipation. Richie ran his finger up Eddies ass and down to the bottom of his balls twice, before pausing.
"Remember what I said before?"
"Hm?" Eddie grunted.
"Three times the charm."
Richie plunged a finger into Eddie's tight asshole. Eddie groaned, and Richie hoped it was because of his finger, not his bad joke.
Richie worked his finger in and out slowly, swirling it around inside of Eddie, feeling the tight warmth. His second finger began to trace the rim of Eddie's hole, and Richie felt Eddie tighten up for a second at the surprise stimulus, but quickly he relaxed again. Richie pulled his finger out, and pushed back in with two. Eddie pushed himself into it, trying to get Richie deeper in him.
"Woah Nelly" Richie said, pulling out almost all the way.
"I'm not a horse, Richie" Eddie sighed, but listened to Richie and remained still this time as the fingers entered his again.
"That's right you aint, you're the one who's gonna ride me."
"God that's awful" Eddie said, moaning as Richie pushed the two fingers in deeper.
"Listen, parter, I don't like the cut of your jib." Richie put in a third finger.
"Your not going to get any of my _ jib _ , cut or not, if you don't _ giddy the fuck up _ and put your dick in me, Richie"
Richie couldn't argue with that. He did his best to multitask, barley fitting a fourth finger into Eddie, who moaned and arched his back, while his other hand lubed up his cock. He retracted his fingers and lined up the head of his dick against Eddie's asshole. Richie wondered if he did enough prepping, because it looked like Eddie's ass was as tight as before, but Eddie wasn't having it. Eddie pushed back, and the head of Richie's cock was sucked past the tight ring of muscle before he could say 'yeehaw'.
"F-F-Fuck...." Eddie was trembling slightly, he was being stretched around Richie and it hurt, but not really, and he felt full, but needed more, and it was so much, it was overwhelming. Richie didn't move. He wanted Eddie to go at his own pace. Eddie started to rock back further, taking Richie in inch by inch, until he was half way down Richie's cock.
"How much more? How far am I?" Eddie said, voice wavering.
"Hate to break it to you, but you're just halfway babe." To Richie's surprise, Eddie moaned.
"Push it in, all at one, just fill me up before I can-" Eddie practically screamed when Richie grabbed his hips and forcefully thrust the rest of his cock into Eddie.
"Are you ok? Eddie was that too-" Richie was honestly concerned, until Eddie spoke.
" _ Move _ , Richie please move, _ fuck me _ ." Richie was still a little hesitant, but trusted that Eddie knew his own asshole better than Richie did (Richie wanted to change that someday). He tightened his hold onto Eddies hips and pulled out slightly before pushing in again, and Eddie moaned, loud.
"Kitten I love your noises but were not the only ones in this house, remember? Be a good boy and bite the pillow, ok baby?" Eddie did as the good boys do.
Richie was able to pick up the pace after a while, and Eddie seemed to be holding up well.
"Let me ride you." Eddie said, out of breath and between moans.
"So we _ are _ doing the cowboy thing?" Richie pulled out of Eddie and reclined onto the bed, watching Eddie clamber onto him and grab his dick with urgency. Richie thought it looked like Eddie was poisoned and the antidote was in his dick. Eddie was flushed, panting, his eyes watering slightly. It was a good look on him Richie thought. Richie was unable to think, however, when Eddie took all of Richies dick in one go.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> next chapter will probably finish it up.... probably.
3. The Climax
Eddie’s toned legs were coming in very handy, rhythmically lifting and dropping himself onto Richies lap, whose hips frantically raised up to meet him part way. Eddies head hung low, intensely focused on the task at hand. Richie wasn't happy with that. Here he was, with Eddie on his dick, and he couldn't look at his blissed out face. Richie pulled his hand from Eddies waist and snaked it around to fist Eddie’s hair, forcing Eddie’s eyes to meet his own. Richie, moments earlier, thought his dick could never get any harder. Eddie’s face pushed him over the edge. Sweaty, teary eyed, flushed and moaning, Eddie looked absolutely fucked. Eddie’s eyelids fluttered as Richie pushed up into him again, and again and again.
“Look me in the eyes.”
Eddie, eyes focused to the empty middle distance, whined as he dragged his eyes to meet with Richie’s. Eddie looked away immediately, and Richie tugged on his hair again, with purpose. When Eddie made eye contact with Richie, it felt.... Embarrassing. Richie was staring him down with an intense gaze, and Eddie wondered if in that moment, Richie could see into his mind. Eddie couldn't look away, he had to bare himself entirely to Richie, unable to hide his face, his noises. Eyes are the windows to Eddie’s soul, and Richie just through a rock through them.
Maintaining eye contact, Eddie came, hard. His muscles tensed and twitched, tightening around Richie, the final catalyst to Richie’s impending orgasm. He pushed all of his cock into Eddie, cumming as deep inside of him as he could reach. The room was filled with heavy breathing as the boys came down from their high, Richie’s dick slowly getting softer within Eddie. | a4af803c335a4d02be681019ef423713 | ['58312410f88e4744a49e373807685c80'] | Shinsou’s smirk was almost as good as Kacchan’s...
Almost.
Izuku dragged himself to the gym. Maybe he could work out so hard he forgot about all this.
Sweat out all this need, somehow.
It was only after he had set himself up by the weights that he noticed Bakugou.
Izuku noticed the smell of his sweat first. That unique, sweet smell caused by his quirk.
He was laying on one of the lifting benches quietly doing chest presses, his eyes just barely open. Bakugou didn't acknowledge Izuku as he grabbed a weight and started to warm up.
Izuku knew this was a bad idea.
They worked out silently together for a while, breathing slowly getting rougher, almost in sync.
“Spar with me”
“Huh?” Bakugou responded immediately, sounding tense. Izuku pushed forward.
“Spar with me Kacchan, I need a real workout, not just lifting.”
There, Izuku thought. Feed his ego, let him know he is better than anything else here.
“Why the fuck would I do that?” Bakugou grunted as he set the weights in his hands down next to the bench. Izuku knew that meant he had gotten his attention.
“No quirks, just hand to hand. We haven't done that in a while, and I think..” Izuku had to think of a reason, quick.
“What if we are in a situation where we need to fight without our quirks?”
“We have a class for that, dumbass”
Izuku sighed.
“Please Kacchan”
Bakugou didn't say anything for a minute, looking away from Izuku as he wiped the bench clean of his sweat. He finally dropped his towel down and turned towards him.
“What are you doing.”
“What?”
“What are you playing at, what's your fucking problem. What's your plan, Deku.”
“I told you I-”
“Oi shut the fuck up if your not going to tell me. Fine, you wanna get wrecked? Dont blame me when you get hurt.”
Yes!
Bakugou quickly walked off towards the other side of the gym where the mats where. He didnt look behind him, he knew Deku would follow.
“You dont think you can beat me, can you.” Bakugou said it as a statement, not a question.
He was right. But Izuku was going to put up a fight, he knew Kacchan wouldn't have that victorious smile if Izuku just let him toss him around.
They both got ready, and Izuku got to look Bakugou straight in the eyes for the first time today.
He really shouldn't have done that.
Bakugou’s red eyes were totally focused, starring Izuku down, making him feel like a deer in the headlights. But at the same time, they were... Inquisitive, curious.
Izuku realized Bakugou was waiting for him to make the first move.
He was giving Deku a chance to back out.
Izuku ran at him, aiming a kick at his side, but narrowly missing as Bakugou quickly slid away, still not making any attacks. Izuku didnt slow down, landing a punch on Bakugou's shoulder.
Thats when Bakugou started fighting. He managed to grab Izuku’s leg mid kick, the forcing making Bakugou grunt, and used that to flip him over onto the ground.
Izuku tried to sweep Bakugous legs, but he dodged, so Izuku stood back up and rushed him, hoping to knock him back and get him to stumble or trip up.
Bakugou didn’t dodge this time, letting Izuku ram into his chest with force. Izuku was confused for a second, almost unhappy with Bakugou’s move. Was he really not taking him seriously at all?
That's when Bakugou slipped his arm under Izuku’s, and with smooth movements, Izuku was on the ground, dazed, with Bakugou straddling his chest.
He was up on his knees, not fully sitting on Izuku, and panting, but not nearly as much as the other boy was.
Izuku’s face was painfully close to Bakugou’s crotch, which was hovering above his chest.
It was a couple seconds before Izuku had the nerve to look up at him, and he was met with Bakugou’s eyes.
They slowly went from the wild ones he had while fighting to the thinner, questioning one's Izuku saw before.
He didnt know what Bakugou was thinking, and it scared the hell out of him.
How exciting.
Bakugou’s legs squeezed his sides. Izuku didnt remember reaching to touch his legs, but he felt his hand move to Bakugou’s thigh, touching him lightly.
Bakugou’s eyes darted all over. He saw Deku’s flushed face, his wide eyes and his mouth, open and still breathing heavy.
He grabbed Deku’s wrists, pinning them over his head, and in the process, Deku could feel Kacchan’s weight shift on him.
Izuku felt the intense hold Kacchan had on his wrists, the heavy, hot weight of his body, now sitting on Izuku’s chest.
As fast as it happened, Bakugou was off him.
Izuku lay there, staring up at the ceiling, as he heard Bakugou briskly exit the gym.
Did he know? Did he see how hard Izuku was? Did it disgust him?
Excite him?
Both options were weirdly ok with Izuku. He wonder if Kacchan would ever talk about it, or every even talk to him again.
Izuku didn’t know what he was getting into.
3. Chapter 3
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Kacchan jerks it ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Short chapter, been busy doing midterm stuff. Anyways heres some bakudick.
Katsuki Bakugou was mad. At Deku, at himself, at his dick. That fucking nerd actually challenged him to a spar. Even just months ago he wouldn’t have dreamt of Deku having the guts or the stupidity to fight him. Was he trying to beat him? Humiliate him? It made his blood boil. Part of him wishes he hadn't gone easy on him, wishes that he would have taught Deku a lesson, but another part of him, a part he didnt like to think about, is glad Deku wasn't badly hurt. |
404da787dc3d46678c41ff42c019cb88 | ['587d12e62b8b4e288f57c9c07dd77cec'] | “Um, what?” The pair turned to see a very confused Dean.
“Dean, Gabriel is Emma’s father.” Y/N stated flatly, glaring at your brother. You couldn’t help but chuckle; the little girl did remind you of Gabriel. You should have known.
“How did you survive?” Dean asked, looking Y/N up and down. “I’m glad you’re alive and all, but isn’t the birth of a Nephilim supposed to be deadly?”
“You almost killed me!” Y/N spun back to Gabriel, fury renewed. Gabriel raised his hands in surrender.
“I siphoned her grace before I left so she wouldn’t hurt you. So you both could have a normal life without all this angel crap!” Gabriel gently placed his hands on Y/N’s shoulders. “I wanted what was best for you both. That’s why I had to go.”
Y/N sighed, then softly replied, “I kinda understand. I’m sorry I slapped you… sort of.” She winked at Gabe, making him chuckle slightly. You held your breath, watching the exchange. Why did she affect you so? “Our daughter’s name is Emma. It’s about time you met her.”
…
Reader’s POV
You watched as the three angels, Sam, and Emma had a tea party in the living room. Sam looked very uncomfortable, but still put on a smile for your daughter’s sake. The three angels, however, were having fun. It had only been a few days, but she already had all three wrapped around her little finger.
“So, she really is Gabe’s?” Dean asked, leaning back on the wall behind you. His face looked sad, despite the tough guy façade he had.
“She is.” You said gently. Dean ducked his head, looking down at the floor. “You know, since you consider Castiel a brother to you… that would technically make you and Sam Emma’s honorary uncles.” You said, catching his attention. He gave you a small smile, somewhat happier, but you could tell he really had wanted Emma to be his. You decided to change the subject. You weren’t really the kind to overshare your emotions, after all. “So, what’s the plan now? To rescue Jack and your mom? We have two depleted archangels and no new leads.”
“I don’t know.” Dean responded, rubbing his neck. “If we wait for their batteries to charge, it’ll be too late. Apocalypse world Michael could come through any day now, and if he has Jack, he could be marching a whole army through.”
“I have an idea, but I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about it.” Sam said, joining you both in your corner of the library. You looked over to see Emma happily playing with her father and other two uncles. Smiling, you turned back to Sam.
“Alright, let’s hear it!” You said, clapping your hands together.
“Jack opened a portal to apocalypse world before he was born. If Emma had her grace back, she should theoretically be able to do the same.” Sam wouldn’t meet your eyes as your face rapidly turned.
“No.” You began. “She’s lived all her life as a human so far. I don’t want to force her to change, as well as put a target on her back for the rest of her life.” You glared at Sam until you felt a tug at your jacket. Your daughter’s eyes stared up into yours, trying to mask her fear.
“Mom, I need to help. I want this. I want my powers back.”
…
You packed your bag, trying to sort out your feelings. You were nervous about this. Emma said she wanted her power back and she wanted to help, but you were afraid. She was still just a kid, but you also were proud of her for her courage.
Gabriel had gone to retrieve her grace from wherever the hell he hid it, and the bunker was humming with activity. Sam, Dean, and Castiel were getting weapons ready. Lucifer had gone back to heaven to try and power up in case a fight was waiting for him in the other world. The boys were still leery of trusting him, but you did your best to defend his case. He just wanted his son back safely, you told yourself. Wouldn’t any parent want the same?
You were packing your bag for the apocalypse world. Emma would have to go through to make sure everyone could go home. There was no telling if Jack would have enough power to open a portal himself, and neither Lucifer or Gabriel had the juice to pull it off right now. So, you were going too, despite what anyone had to say about it.
“You don’t have to agree to this, you know.” Lucifer said, startling you. You turned to see him slouched against the wall, blood running down his side.
“Lucifer, what happened?” You shrieked, running over to look at the wound. You drew his hands away, accessing the damage. Flying across the room, you found your first aid kit, pulling out supplies.
“Anael. She’s been running the show up there in my absence. Decided heaven needs a queen instead of a king.” Lucifer groaned, clutching at his side again. “I escaped, but not without a souvenir.” He smiled grimly.
“Get on the bed.” You commanded, getting ready to patch him up.
“At least buy a guy dinner first.” He grumbled, but laid down, exposing his injured side to you. You worked quickly, ignoring his moans.
“Would you stop whining? You’re acting like a big baby.” You teased, trying to lighten the mood.
“It hurts.” He retorted, glaring up at you through squinted eyes. “I’m kinda having a bad day, if you haven’t noticed. My son is missing, my dick brother from another world wants to destroy me and my home, Anael stole the one advantage I had to help me get my son back, and I’m powerless.” | 74c480cfb8de4aa99f803d04a34bf76a | ['587d12e62b8b4e288f57c9c07dd77cec'] | “Lucifer.” The little girl mouthed, then looked up at you. “Do you know the real Lucifer?” she asked you. When you nodded, she continued, “Is he really as bad as everyone says? Mommy says that everyone deserves a second chance. Even the devil.” She smiled softly. “Maybe he just needs a hug.” You tried not to chuckle at that, but you continued to read when the girl gave you a questioning glance. Soon, she was absorbed in the story, to your relief. You didn’t want to lie. Despite what many believed, you didn’t lie if you could help it. Soon, the girl had fallen asleep against you, her tiny fingers curling around your arm. You looked up to see Y/N watching from the door. She smiled at you softly, then came over to tuck her daughter in, setting you free. You quietly followed Y/N out to the kitchen. She poured herself some juice, giving you a glass as well.
“Sorry about that. She loves being read to.” Y/N said.
“Where is her father?” you asked, trying to answer your questions from earlier.
Y/N sighed. “He’s not around. He left me before I found out I was pregnant, saying trouble followed him wherever he goes. He didn’t want me to get hurt.” She rolled her eyes. “I haven’t seen him since, and I don’t have a way to contact him.”
“That’s too bad. I’m sure he would have loved the chance to be a father.” You said remorsefully, thinking of Jack. You hadn’t even gotten to meet your son yet, thanks to those stupid Winchesters and Castiel. Soon, you promised yourself. When you had your strength back, you would find your son and make him understand you weren’t the bad guy like everyone said. Honestly, you wanted someone to love. Having someone strong enough to help keep you out of the cage was a plus. Another bonus would be being able to take over heaven. You wanted to go home, after all. It wasn’t like you were going to raise your son in Hell. You lost your train of thought as Y/N snorted.
“Yeah, right. He wasn’t the fatherly type. He was nice and all, but I don’t think he would have stuck around to raise his kid. He was a bit of an over-grown child himself.” She rested her chin on her hand thoughtfully. “I would tell him if I saw him again, though. He does have the right to know.” She sighed, then collected the cups and put them in the sink. “Well, good night, Nick. I’ll see you in the morning.” You gave her a small wave as she went to bed, then went to your room. Even though you didn’t sleep, you still needed to act like a human. You surprised yourself with a yawn. Angels didn’t sleep. However, your vessel disagreed. Soon, you drifted off into a deep sleep, a smile gracing your lips.
2. Not Your Child
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Lucifer decides it's time he moved on. After making a new friend, he escapes the Winchesters and becomes King of Heaven. Y/N and Emma go back to the bunker with the Winchesters.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Chapter contains fragments from both Y/N and Lucifer's POV.
Reader’s POV
You woke up the next morning to a quiet house. Smiling, you rose and got dressed quickly. First, you went and checked on Emma, seeing her twisted up in her blankets. Walking silently down the hall, you checked on Nick. He was flipped over on his side, hair disheveled. You chuckled as you realized he was cuddling his pillow. Carefully, you closed the door, making your way to the kitchen.
Humming to yourself, you began to cook breakfast. You had the day off from work today; and it was a Saturday, so Emma didn’t have to go to school. You relished days like this. You danced around the kitchen, making pancakes and frying up some bacon.
“Mommy?” Emma asked as she stumbled into the kitchen, wiping sleep from her eyes. “Are you making bacon and pancakes?” Her sleepy smile broke into a huge grin as she saw you were, indeed, making her favorite breakfast. She took off down the hall, rushing into Nick’s room before you could stop her. You followed her down the hall to see her waking up Nick. She was jumping on the bed, trying to pull his pillow away from him. He smiled at you when he saw you, letting you know it was okay. You light-heartedly fussed at your child, then went back to fixing breakfast. Shortly, the other two trailed in. You got everything else you needed at the fridge, and Emma began to set the table. Finally, you fixed plates for everyone, and set them down.
“Thank you.” Nick mumbled, staring down at his plate, ears burning red. He looked uncomfortable, but you couldn’t fathom why.
“You’re very welcome.” You flashed him a smile, causing him to visibly relax. Emma began to decorate her pancakes with chocolate syrup, whip cream, pancake syrup, and a sprinkle of chocolate chips on top, as per her usual. Nick watched, eyes bulging, then looked over at you.
Shrugging, you said, “My daughter has a bit of sweet tooth.”
“My little brother was the same way.” He said, eyes glazing over as he reminisced. “I sometimes think God created sugar just for him.” He smiled as you chuckled, glancing over at your daughter stuffing her face.
“Where’s your brother now?” You asked, trying to make polite conversation. He frowned, his eyes darkening as he looked down at his plate.
“He died a few years back. I miss him everyday.” Nick said quietly. He jumped as Emma reached over to hold his hand. |
8eb6274fd3104b0783aad43d7865e4d6 | ['58b276e96c7e450db15e3931d55cb8c3'] | Bucky jerked his head in confirmation. A weight was crushing down on him, Bucky felt… wrong. His skin was heavy, pressure was building behind his eyes, chest empty. He was unbelievably tired. Not from the painkillers or wanting to get out of the hospital or because breathing was a chore. He was tired of making decisions that were always wrong. Tired of running away and finding new people to disappoint. Tired of being broken.
Bucky didn't realize he was crying until Steve brushed away a tear with his thumb. “I’d help you Buck,” Steve said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “If you let me.”
Words were jumbling around in Bucky’s head, the knee jerk ‘I’m fine’ was lumped in his throat.
“Please let me help”
It was too much. Bucky didn’t – He couldn’t – Not at Steve’s house, after everything –
“Okay” The word came out small and horribly garbled, but somehow Steve understood. Bucky was crying in earnest now, which hurt – so Steve moved closer and pushed Bucky’s hair out of his face, pressed Bucky’s shoulders back to keep him from folding over and hurting his broken ribs.
Being upset triggered one of the machines; a nurse arrived and pushed something into his bloodstream that took the strength out of his sobs, made him feel disconnected.
“I’ll call Natasha” Steve said, as Bucky began slipping. “Tell her not to bother.”
Bucky wasn’t sure what to think about that. How did Steve know? But of course Steve knew. But did Natasha tell him? Did he tell Steve? Did it matter?
The last thing that crossed Bucky’s mind before he passed out wasn’t a question or concern. It was a fact, plain and simple: however this played out, it was going to be bad.
-
It was worse.
“Leave me ALONE” Bucky howled when the door opened “I don’t care. Go away.” He was tangled up in the sheets, had kicked the rest of the blankets off Steve’s bed. He’d been up most the night (like last night, and the night before) alternating between rolling around on the bed and puking his guts out in the bathroom.
“It’s just me Buck,” Steve said, “Wanted to check up on you.”
“Why?” Bucky asked, whimpering. “Why do you care?” Any day preceding this Bucky would have been horrified by the words spewing out, but his brain to mouth filter was gone (had been for a few days now). Bucky couldn’t bring himself to care. Every hateful half-truth, honest fear and wild speculation was bubbling up and spilling over.
“I told you Bucky,” Steve said, approaching the night stand, “I just do. You’re important to me, okay?”
They’d been having this conversation and variations thereof for several days. Bucky knew the lines, but wouldn’t leave it alone. Five days since he’d been discharged and Bucky knew he wasn’t worth this and hated Steve and couldn’t believe Steve would do this for him and Bucky wanted to be better, wanted Steve to like him–
“M Sorry,” Bucky said, “I didn’t mean it.” Bucky slumped; wincing as his ribs pinched and tore at him when he moved. He had pills, but he didn’t want them. No more drugs. Steve caught Bucky trying to throw them out and confiscated them, setting off another round of arguments.
“I don’t want to be here,” Bucky said, wringing his hands together. He could feel the sweat on his skin, tangles in his hair. Steve put a hand on his shoulder, reassuring while maintaining a safe distance. Last time Steve got too close Bucky shoved Steve – who wasn’t very steady on his ankle brace – and knocked Steve on his butt. This was followed by an hour of profuse apologies that Steve tried to wave off until Bucky grew sullen again.
And so on.
-
When enough time passed, Bucky’s worst days turned into bad days, with some yelling, but less. Then the bad days became okay; he could sleep most of the night, wasn’t as pale and feverish. Eventually, days were just days.
Bucky found a way to stop saying everything that was on his mind, and could stand to be in a room with the light on. Steve let him help make food and left him alone for more than half an hour. Bucky insisted – quietly, reserved – on moving to the couch, because that was Steve’s room. Steve finally agreed. Bucky continued to refuse the pain medication right up to the point he twisted to grab something in the kitchen and woke up on the ground with no memory of falling besides a flash of pain. Steve saw, got stubborn, and Bucky relented. Some drugs did make a world of difference.
December 11th, two weeks out of the hospital, Bucky made a small remark about his apartment, how he would miss having a kitchen. Steve stopped measuring out a handful of pasta, set the box down.
“I thought you agreed to stay here.” Steve said, watching the water in the pot boil.
“What?” Bucky looked up from a packet of sauce he was dumping into a bowl. Steve repeated himself. “When?” Bucky said, pushing up the sleeves of his oversized green sweater to begin mixing the pasta sauce. Steve glanced over his shoulder.
“Last week”
“I said a lot of things last week.” Bucky said, returning his attention to the mixing. “Wasn’t making a lot of sense.” He mumbled. The week was blurry, out of order, but Bucky had a short collection of unfavorable lucid memories. “I can’t just stay–”
“You can.” Bucky paused. Steve’s back was ramrod straight. Bucky leaned back from the counter, set the spatula down.
“It’s not fair,” Bucky started. | 1e77fd07b72e4769890604f77259883c | ['58b276e96c7e450db15e3931d55cb8c3'] | “I have a hard time trusting people,” Keith had admitted, as if that wasn’t the least kept secret in recorded history. Pidge had politely chosen not to comment. “Being ace doesn’t help. I don’t mind people, it’s...”
Keith had floundered. Truthfully, there were days he craved touch. A shoulder pat, a hug, anything, but he didn’t know how to ask without making a bigger mess.
“It’s nice. It is. But then they expect more, and I... I can’t...”
And that was that. Pidge never asked Keith for any sort of proof to validate how he identified, and they took Keith’s words to heart. More often than not, Pidge’s affection was slightly more violent than others, but the sharp elbows and punches weren’t unlooked for.
Other times, however. Other times Pidge took it upon themselves to up their game. Tonight was no exception.
Pidge was a warm weight against his shins, boney shoulder blades digging into Keith’s legs. It wasn’t necessarily bad, but he was hyperaware of his body. He couldn’t formulate any escape routes that didn’t involve jostling Pidge, and he’d messed up their device enough.
It was ridiculous, how much control someone a third of his body weight could have simultaneously over his emotions and mobility. He knew it was ridiculous.
“Alright there, buddy?”
Despite his efforts, the look Keith sent Hunk must have contained some iteration of fear.
“Don’t worry about it.” Hunk assured him, waving a hand. “Pidge is always grumpy after midnight.”
“It’s not after midnight,” Pidge muttered, “not that anyone of us would know.”
“As I said,” Hunk confirmed. “Hey, have you seen the flight patterns Allura wants us to try tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” Keith had spent an hour before dinner going over the new patterns the Princess uploaded to their screens.
“They make sense to you?”
“For the most part.”
“Oh thank God,” Hunks words fell out in a rush, dropping like his shoulders. “I have no idea what’s going on.”
Stepping his socked feet carefully among the gleaming carnage Pidge had fanned out around the couch, Hunk settled beside Keith.
“So I get the first part,” Hunk started, stabbing at the screen, “but after me and Pidge...”
“Pidge and I.”
“Yeah that,” Hunk acknowledged their correction from the floor, “after we go behind the castle... here lemme show you.”
Thankfully, Hunk was too involved in his tapping to notice Keith had essentially stopped breathing. The larger paladin landed a respectably distance away, but, slowly and surely, he moved over until shoulder was pressing on shoulder.
If Pidge was rock, rolled down a hill and trapping his legs, then Hunk was a fucking brick wall. Keith was well and truly hemmed in. Dredging up every ounce of self awareness he had left, Keith turned to the screen and desperately followed along as Hunks fingers traced the trajectory of the Yellow Lion.
Focus. If he could focus on nothing but the screen maybe the screaming in the back of his mind would quiet and the fingers wrapping around his throat would release.
He realized Hunk was staring.
“What?”
“You okay man?”
Keith breathed lightly through his nose. What was he supposed to say? Everything’s fine except for the fact he spent the last year living in a desert without human contact? That he wanted this, wanted to sit and lean all his weight on Hunk, like he watched Lance do a thousand times? That Pidge had conned him into this, and he couldn't decided to be grateful or furious?
That he was broken?
“Fine,” Keith ground out. “What was the question?”
Hunk waited a beat but didn’t press it, for which Keith was eternally thankful. “This part here...”
They talked for a while, flipping between old and new scenarios. Coran had shown Hunk a way to access old data from the Castle cameras, providing a view of the fight from the bridge. Watching conflicts from Coran and Allura’s point of view was weird, but interesting. The material was distracting enough Keith found himself paying less and less attention to his breathing. The metal rod fused to his spine gradually released. A few degrees at a time, Keith let himself sink into the couch, and by proxy, Hunk. The Yellow paladin was incomprehensibly sturdy. Keith understood now, why Lance and Pidge used Hunk as a stand in for a marble pillar. In a competition between the two, Keith would bet on Hunk.
Harmless.
He should have known it was too good to last.
“Jeez, there you guys are!”
Lance arrived in typical Lance fashion, barging into the room and nearly falling face first onto a mechanical landmine. Hunk’s ‘Look out!’ gave the blue paladin enough warning to pull up short and take the long way around, complaining the whole way.
“Everybody disappears on me. I expected as much from Keith, but Pidge? Well, maybe Pidge.” He reconsidered. “Hunk however,” Lance leaned over the back of the couch to the right of Hunk’s head. “What betrayal is this?”
Hunk laughed, explaining the training program and new videos as Keith gratefully eyed the distance between himself and the blue paladin.
“You could have asked me,” Lance pouted, “I am a stellar pilot and sharpshooter...”
Keith snorted. He couldn’t help it. Lance was in a room ten seconds and the third thing out of this mouth was how great he was. Why? Why did Keith like him?
“Something to say over there?” Lance shot up, taking Keith’s disparaging the wrong way. “If I remember correctly, only one of us dropped out of the Garrison.”
And there it was. Reason 5 or 8 or 42 why Keith should never, ever, talk to Lance about anything. This idiotic rivalry. At least Keith knew his lines.
“You’re right,” Keith said, ignoring Pidge’s sharp elbow. “It’s a shame all that extra training didn’t do you any favors.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” |
aa2e40ad64f849ca996b268b0dbeadf7 | ['58c702cf0e3448d09da28d3e50e28dbf'] |
1. Hallelujah
Shaking at the bruise your mother’s hand left on your cheek, trying not to think about your flushcrush, you hide yourself under your sheets. Maybe if you sleep and lock the door, you’ll never have to come out again.
***
Your name is (f/n), and you hate your family. Your father works all day so that he doesn’t have to deal with your mother, and your mother... well, she’s abusive. She’ll insult you in anything and everything you do, and when you mess something up, she hits you. She drinks too much, and so while most of the time she hits and pinches where it’ll leave a mark no one will see, occasionally she’ll hit you somewhere you can’t hide, and that’s when you have to wear makeup. Most of your shirts are long-sleeved, and you never go anywhere without a jacket, making you look just as cold as your flushcrush--- Kankri Vantas.
The awful truth is that you have fallen for the celibate. Even if he wasn't, there's still the whole issue that he's a troll, and you're merely human. How many times have you wished you had been born in their universe? Somewhere you would have a kind mother, a father who cared.
A knock at your door makes you curl towards the wall. Your mother never knocks, which means it's probably your father. "Go away," you call hoarsely, voice rough and choked on tears.
There's a pause for a moment before a familiar tenor answers, "My apologies, I only wanted to see that you are alright, as you missed our outing. And, though I cannot see you at the moment, you do not appear to be alright. May I come in?"
Oh dear god. It's not your father, it's Kankri. And you missed the library outing with him thanks to your mother's sneers at the dishes and punishment. Slowly pushing yourself to standing and wincing at everything that aches, you unlock the door, opening it for the turtleneck-clad troll.
Immediately, his eyes settle on your face, the yellow and gray widening at the bruise that is oh so evident, and the clear streaks running down your skin, tears dripping off your chin. "(f/n), what happened to you? You have an awful bruise and it looks as though you may have a black eye as well, not to mention you're crying!"
"I-I'm fine," you sniff, hastily brushing away the warmth and wincing again as you rub up against your cheek just a bit too hard. "It's nothing, really."
Kankri bites his lip, clearly deciding on something difficult. Finally, he closes the door and locks it, gently wrapping an arm around your shoulder and sitting down on the bed with you. "I am terribly sorry if I triggered you with that gesture, but I feel it is necessary in what we are going to talk about. (f/n)," he tilts your head up to look from the floor to him. "Please tell me what happened. I am concerned and I know that you are lying when you say it was nothing."
You are not going to break down and tell him. Your mother would kill you, she has threatened it before, and besides, it's only two more years until you can get out of this hellhole. "Honestly, Kankri. It's nothing that hasn't happened before." At least that isn't a lie.
He narrows his eyes, something you don't see very often. "Then I am going to have to make assumptions. If you would at least tell me if they are correct, it would make this much easier. I am going to refrain from tagging triggers for the moment, as you are clearly very distraught, and that could and most likely would upset you more than you are right now."
"Sure," you nod a bit, bringing your gaze back to the ground. Rubbing your sleeved arm, you don't look at your fair hand. It's hard to sleep when you're worrying about the next day, leaving you pale, with dark circles under your eyes. Another reason for makeup.
"You have never invited me over to your hive," Kankri begins; if he's looking at you, you don't know. Nor do you want to. "Which has always led me to believe it is undesirable to be in, or uncomfortable for you. Your mother-lusus has proved that to be correct. Next, you wear long-sleeved shirts and-or jackets in the even dead of summer, even when you have explicitly told me you are not cold. This makes me think you have something on your arms you wish to hide. Is this true?"
Taking a deep breath, you say as quietly as you can, "Yes."
"I shall infer myself what this would be, as I already have an idea. I have suspected for a long time now, and I will apologize in advance if this triggers you in any way--- you know I would never purposefully trigger you, or anybody--- but I am truly very concerned for you," you can feel the mutant-blood's gaze burning on you, willing you to glance at him and see just how worried his face is. You don't look up. "(f/n), are you... cutting?"
You actually laugh, a bit bitterly, at how far from the truth that is. "Christ, Kankri, no. I would never do that." Finally finding the courage to roll up your sleeve, you reveal the bruises littered across your forearm, some more recent and therefore more visible. "This is what I'm not allowed to show."
A quiet intake of breath through his pointed teeth lets you know that he's shocked. "Excuse any language that may occur, but who would ever do this to you? This is unacceptable! This, quite simply, should never have happened! My god, (f/n), please let me help you!"
"There's not a lot you can do," you say sadly. Your eyes then widen. "Kankri, if my mother finds out I've told you, she'll just make things worse." | 8147c3809ba14d1cbdf013a6147dd359 | ['58c702cf0e3448d09da28d3e50e28dbf'] | Unhappy
**Author's Note:**
> This work centers around the headcanon that Scarlet is agender.
“Sorry, what did you just call them?” Neptune looks incredulous as he stares down Cardin. Scarlet gives Neptune a pleading look, which Neptune ignores.
“I said he’s a fucking freak,” Cardin repeats, obviously unashamed (and not afraid enough of Neptune to back down). “No gender, my ass. You’re a guy, you were born a guy, and you should be proud to be one.”
“Neptune, please,” Scarlet tugs at their boyfriend’s shirt, trying desperately to get them out of here. “I don’t want to make a scene...”
He doesn’t look back at his datemate. “Sorry, Scar. At this point, the scene’s already made. I’m just gonna complete it.”
Placing their face in their hands, Scarlet lets out a small sigh and steps back. _Why do all of my boyfriends have to be so stubborn about this?_
Cardin laughs. “What are you gonna do, hit me? Oh, I’m so scared.”
_Crack_. Neptune is holding his hand now, refusing to cringe at the pain. Cardin, meanwhile, is staggered back, a hand to his jaw and a look of furious disbelief plastered across his ugly face. A crowd has started to gather at this point, forming a circle around the two. Scarlet is still close by, watching in nervous horror.
“So now you’re going to apologize to Scarlet for calling them a guy,” Neptune begins, but is cut off by Cardin charging towards him with a roar. He puffs out a small breath of air, sliding quickly out of Cardin’s way. Sun is easily the better fistfighter, but Neptune can usually hold his own. He anticipates Cardin’s change in direction and kicks him in the chest, a hard kick that stops him cold. Some of the crowd cheers.
Cardin drops to his knees, wheezing, and Neptune’s eyebrows lift as he puts his hands to his hips. “Okay, let’s give this a second try. Now you’re going to apologize to Scarlet for calling them a guy.” He looks around for Scarlet, finds them behind him, and gently pulls them forward before staring at Cardin again. “Go ahead, Winchester. They’re waiting.”
“Sorry for calling you a guy,” Cardin’s voice is still weak as he tries simultaneously to recover and not look like he’s in pain. It doesn’t fool anyone.
“Now you’re going to tell everyone that you can’t be bothered to get your head out of your ass long enough to realize first of all that there are more than two genders, and second of all that there’s nothing wrong with that.”
Cardin looks reluctant, but a crack of Neptune’s knuckles reminds him of the pain he just experienced. “Yeah. All of that.”
“Can we please go now,” Scarlet whispers, and though they refuse to fall apart in front of Cardin Winchester, Neptune knows they’re mortified and in possible danger of a breakdown once they’re somewhere private.
His face softens. “Yeah, let’s go.” He makes for Scarlet’s hand as the two begin to walk, but they twitch it away from him, and he feels kind of bad now.
They walk in silence all the way back to their dorm room, where Scarlet then goes and crawls into bed, curled away from Neptune, who sits on his own bed and waits for them to talk the way they always do.
“Why can’t you just listen when I ask you not to make a big deal out of this?” They sound so very tired. “I don’t want to be known for my team going out and beating up every ignorant asshole who talks to me.”
“You deserve better,” Neptune says simply, giving a moment for that to sink in before collecting the rest of his thoughts. “I’m not going to speak for Sun or Sage, but I firmly believe that people who actively insult you after you explain things are just the kind of people who learn best when it’s knocked into them.”
“He’s going to hate you and me both now, and that’s not good for the remains of the festival.” It almost seems like they’ve been practicing this. “But this happens everywhere. I don’t want it to. Please, please listen to me when I ask you not to fight people, especially on my behalf.”
“Okay,” Neptune agrees after a couple moments of thought. He doesn’t tell them that he’s going to continue to fight people who disrespect Scarlet when they’re not around. They don’t need to know that. “I won’t do that anymore.”
Scarlet finally rolls around to face him; they still look tired, but grateful now too. “Thank you, Neptune. I appreciate it.” |
b6653d0bd66f46368fb791ac7b36ce7d | ['58c9ac166d44404b9e6191f1575bc767'] | Neal took advantage of their short break to rummage through the top of his backpack for leftover snacks, and it was only when he offered everyone a handful of nuts and raisins that Emma noticed Regina wasn't with them.
"Does anyone know where Regina is?" she asked, grimacing at how everyone shook their heads in response. "Great. I guess I'll go find her then."
She pulled her hand out of Killian's and strode back the way they'd arrived, ignoring the protests from the others. They didn't need to worry. Emma wasn't foolish enough to wander Neverland alone. If she couldn't find Regina within a few hundred metres, she'd come back and they could all figure something out.
Despite their complaints, it didn't seem like anyone was following her anyway.
Regina wasn't too far away from where they'd stopped. She seemed to just be standing there, wringing her hands together and glancing around the jungle.
"Hey," Emma said warily, wondering why Regina hadn't followed them. "You're falling behind. Killian says it's not much further."
"We don't even know if she's still here," Regina told her. "You go waste your time searching. I'll wait."
Emma frowned at her. She'd been suspicious before, but Regina's reluctance to help confirmed it. "What did you do to her?"
"What?" Regina asked quickly. "Why would you assume I did something?"
"You've met her before, right?" Emma stated. "In the Enchanted Forest. What did you do? Kill her brother? Steal her halo?"
"She's not an angel," Regina scoffed, but her exasperation quickly faded away into what looked like shame. "Okay, we have a complicated history. You don't need to know all the details. Just that, if she sees me, she won't help. It's already my fault Henry's here. If Hook really thinks this plan will work, then I can't get in the way."
"Your fault?" Emma repeated, narrowing her eyes at the other woman as she tried to figure out what she meant. "How did you reach that conclusion?"
"Owen would never have kept searching for Storybrooke if I hadn't-"
"Owen?"
"Greg," Regina corrected. "He came back for me, because of what I did. Now my son is the one in trouble and we can't get help because I... Greg and Tamara wouldn't have come to Storybrooke if it wasn't for me. If they hadn't come, Pan's shadow wouldn't have come for Henry and we wouldn't be here. Henry would be safe."
"Okay, I don't know what happened with you and Tinkerbell," Emma replied carefully. "And yeah, maybe Greg wouldn't have come to Storybrooke if you hadn't done what you did. But it doesn't mean it's your fault. We don't even know why Tamara was involved. For all we know, this would have happened with or without Greg. Tamara might have always found Storybrooke, or Pan might have always found a way to get Henry. I'm not saying that a lot of what happened _wasn't_ to do with you, because some of it probably was, but what happened to Henry wasn't. You can't blame yourself for that."
Regina shook her head, a bitter chuckle escaping her lips. Whatever conversation Emma had expected to have when she went to search for Regina, it hadn't been this. Only a couple of days before, Regina had been willing to kill the entire town instead of dealing with the consequences of what she'd done, so the guilt was unexpected.
"It doesn't matter if it's my fault or not," Regina admitted quietly. "We need to save Henry, and if Tinkerbell is the way to do that, I can't get in the way. That's what's best for Operation Henry."
"Operation Henry?"
Regina looked away from her. "That's what I've been calling it in my head because-"
"That's what Henry would call it."
"He'd have a better name," Regina muttered. "But, it's the best I can do."
Emma smiled kindly, the first smile she'd ever shared with Regina. "We'll go get her and then I'll come get you."
"No, don't bother," Regina ordered. "I said I can't get in the way. It's better if we never see one another. And if you don't find her, keep going. Just get Henry. Don't waste time coming back for me."
"Regina, we said we were doing this together," Emma pointed out. "We need you in this. We're not leaving you behind. We could meet somewhere. If Neal stays with you and Killian comes with us, then we'll both be with someone who knows the island."
"I can't risk it. What if you do find her and then we meet up and she refuses to help?"
"What the hell did you do to her?"
Regina sighed and shook her head. "What I always do."
It didn't look like Regina was going to change her mind, so Emma nodded and left her behind. The others had barely moved when she returned to them. Neal and Mary-Margaret were talking, but Killian was in exactly the same place as he'd been when she left them, his arms folded and his gaze locked on David.
"You didn't find her?" Mary-Margaret asked. "Do you think Pan's got her?"
"No, I did," Emma reassured her. "It just turns out that we might have a _slight_ problem. Regina's not coming with us. We're going to keep going without her."
"We can't leave her behind."
"It's what she wants," Emma insisted. "We're sticking to the plan. We find Tink and then we keep going."
"Okay," Mary-Margaret agreed. "I just wanted to check you knew what you were doing. If you'd rather change plans, we're behind you. No matter what."
"We really should have made sure our plan included what to do when we run into someone Regina's upset," David mumbled. "They aren't exactly hard to find." | 8ca2689ad95a4daf8476b5f38639caf6 | ['58c9ac166d44404b9e6191f1575bc767'] | Emma hadn't slept. She'd tried, but instead of sleeping, she'd been consumed with thoughts of what if's. She'd run through so many scenarios, tried to imagine what would have happened if she'd not spoken, if she'd not sent Jones away.
Except she'd realised that she couldn't picture anything further than kissing him again, of wrapping herself around him and being thoroughly possessed by him. And when she _had_ slept, she had dreamt of the two of them, entangled together and lost in one another.
She hadn't allowed herself to envision anything further, because she didn't do relationships deeper than the physical one she pictured and she hated that she was wishing she felt differently.
Eventually she dragged herself out of bed, running her hand through her hair to break the knots caused by hours of tossing and turning, and stumbled down the stairs to see David looking in the fridge and scowling.
"We're out of milk." David said sadly, not even turning to look at Emma. "Need anything from the store?"
"I thought you'd be at work." Emma stated quietly, ignoring David's curious look as she curled up on the couch under one of Mary-Margaret's crocheted blankets. "And no. I'm fine. Just a bit tired."
"Sorry if that's because of us." David apologised, Emma shaking her head in response.
Emma had returned home late, distracting herself with minesweeper at the station until she was certain David and Mary-Margaret would no longer be occupied. She'd quietly snuck upstairs when she got home, not wanting to wake either of them.
But her lack of sleep had nothing to do with that.
"Are you off work today too?" David asked, perching on the arm of the couch and frowning down at her. "Because if so, we should do something. I hate hanging around the house all day. Although I'm busy at one o'clock."
Emma really didn't feel like going out, but she shrugged in response. David looked a bit unsure about what to say next, and Emma would have prompted him if not for the fact that she didn't really want a conversation with anyone.
After a vaguely uncomfortable silence, David seemed to decide that going to buy milk was a better use of his time than sitting around and waiting for Emma to be more sociable.
She watched him go, catching sight of the small glass unicorn Jones had given her sitting on the coffee table. She couldn't stop herself from reaching out for it and cradling it in her hands, the ex-decoration comforting her in a way she couldn't explain.
Emma wondered why she felt as terrible as she did.
Except maybe it wasn't such a mystery. Emma had relied on his easy company and enjoyed his simple, quick affections, revelling in the newness of them even if she hadn't been able to breath whenever he felt like bestowing them upon her. Even if she hadn't felt like she was capable of returning them.
And then when she had, when she'd given in and kissed him the way she had wanted to for _so long_ , she'd realised what that meant. Realised that what she had with Jones could easily become more than she could handle, could become a danger to her, and she'd been terrified of that.
Not of him, but everything that would have come with being with him.
She'd learnt long ago that being with someone was never worth the risk, no matter how badly she wanted it.
That didn't mean she couldn't mourn the loss of a relationship that had somehow come to mean so much to her. After all, Emma was rather certain that after the way she had rejected him the night before, Jones would be giving up on her pretty soon. If he hadn't already.
She wished she wanted him to give up on here, but part of her hoped he'd be the first person who didn't.
"Not only did I get milk, but I got ice cream and chocolate as well." Emma jumped when she heard David's voice, having been too distracted by her own thoughts to hear him return. "I mean, try not to get overexcited."
Emma rolled her eyes at him, but gave him grateful smile as he passed her the large bar of Apollo chocolate. "I'll try."
David chuckled, Emma watching him busy himself with putting the milk away and then serving himself a liberal amount of chocolate ice cream. "Don't tell Mary-Margaret about my ice cream for breakfast." He instructed, joining her on the couch. "I don't think she'd understand."
Emma sighed, taking a large bite of chocolate and then grinning over at David. "What made you buy these then?"
David took a while to answer, levelling Emma with a searching stare before shrugging. "I saw Killian at the store." He answered cautiously, watching Emma for her reaction. Emma swallowed, desperately trying not to look as if hearing his name had sent pain lancing through her. "He looked pretty hung-over. And he may have told me he drank plenty of rum last night. More than I could handle, apparently. But I figured that if Killian was finding solace in rum, maybe that was why you were a bit out of sorts this morning."
Emma gaped at him, not entirely sure what to say. "Uh, David, I-"
"I'm not asking for an explanation, Emma." David said, waving his spoon around in emphasis, a drop of ice cream falling onto his trousers. "I just thought you might want something comforting. I don't know _what_ comforts you, but chocolate always works for me."
"Well, thanks." She muttered, looking away with a snigger when David noticed the spilt ice cream and mumbled angrily about how he'd just washed his trousers. "I think I needed this."
David beamed at her, settling further into the couch. "Well, good. And if you feel like doing anything, I'm up for whatever." |
9be73339ed24485a8464a9cb93d9da8f | ['58c9e43d38754183a710d5ca26baded8'] | And so Clarke knew it would be a little awkward.
But she didn’t expect the swell of love her heart would suffer at the adorable shifts of tense movement Lexa tried to relax into. They were lying on the bed, in naught but their small clothes. Lexa’s breasts were still bound, and Clarke wore her dressing gown. It was light enough to set her skin flame.
“Clarke,” Lexa hoarsed over the crackling fire, “I- You are sure, Clarke?”
The blonde smiled and breathed in the deep cleanness of Lexa’s skin, soaked in the worried adoration in her green eyes.
“I’m sure,” she whispered, fingers lightly scratching Lexa’s hair soothingly.
The brunette swallowed and nodded above her, and slid her hand to the cream of Clarke’s thigh. Clarke was always so soft.
And soon, through honey thick kisses, they were naked. Clarke’s eyes positively glowed as she observed what she could of Lexa. The girl was beautiful. Her skin was tan, and the muscled sculpt of her lean frame slid and shifted in mouth-watering coils as she moved. As for Lexa, Clarke was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
“I want to kiss you,” she whispered in awe.
Clarke chuckled and reached to pull Lexa’s lips to hers. The brunette jumped at the press of Clarke’s warm breasts against her own. The blonde chuckled against her lips, and Lexa gave a slow, low, whine.
“How are you so calm?”
Clarke granted her another kiss before replying.
“Because. I love you, and you love me. This is going to be everything we want it to be, because it will be,” she gave a minute shrug, “Everything will be wonderful, you’ll see,” she smoothed over Lexa’s cheekbone, “Just keep talking to me, hm?”
Lexa watched her.
Sometimes, Lexa felt like she should give sacrifices of crop to the goddesses of her homeland. To any of them, all of them, for giving her Clarke.
The brunette nodded and brushed the sweetest of kisses yet to Clarke’s lips. The blonde hummed, her tone dropping as Lexa’s hardness brushed her thigh. Lexa pulled back and bit her lip, glancing down to their groins, and back up to Clarke’s eyes sporadically.
Clarke chuckled but nodded encouragingly. Lexa forced her relax and settled over her deepest love, one hand by Clarke’s shoulder, the other reaching to cautiously grip the base of her prick. She swallowed as she stared at Clarke’s nethers. She nearly jumped when Clarke’s fingers brushed the back of her hand, and the blonde soothingly directed her to where she wanted her most.
Placing the tip at Clarke’s entrance, Lexa pulled in a slow breathe. Clarke was so hot, and so wet. She gave a dust of a kiss to Clarke’s lips and carefully pushed herself inside.
“Slow,” Lexa seemed to chant to herself, and Clarke curled her fingers through the soft hair at Lexa’s neck affectionately.
Agonizingly strange and pleasurable moments passed, and Clarke’s body tightened around the intruding stretch. She swallowed a whine lightly and settled on relaxing as quickly as possible. Though she was prepared, Lexa was apparently not. The brunette moaned and shook above her, and Clarke bit her tongue from reprimanding her darling’s sudden movements.
Looking down quickly, Lexa’s eyes blinked out of her shocked state to notice the alarming speck of color she hadn’t expected.
“Clarke. There is blood, Clarke. I am hurting you,” Lexa was panting and worried, but pleasure clouded the immediate alarm of her reflexes. Clarke was grateful for it.
“It’s alright,” she crooned hoarsely, “It doesn’t hurt,” she said; she lied.
Lexa grunted her disbelief. Clarke breathed a laugh as her face twisted in a twinge of too-much pressure.
“Just, don’t move, darling. It’ll be gone soon,” she panted. Her maidenhood was broken, officially. And Lexa had gifted herself in its stead. Lexa’s cock was inside of her – filling her, forcing her to readjust what her body previously knew. Clarke had never felt closer to her lover.
Truly, her lover in the Arkadian sense, now.
“Lexa,” Clarke groaned, the fullness inside of her swelling into a pulling, begging, want for something more, “Lexa, m-move,”
The brunette nodded in amazement, and then her eyes hazed as she carefully rocked inside of her love. They joined in a harmonizing moan, Lexa’s deeper in pitch.
“Oh Clarke. You feel so,” Lexa gasped as she pulled further out and pushed back in, instinct taking control, “so good, _ai niron_ ,”
“Lexa,” Clarke groaned, her insides somehow relaxing but coiling all at once, “Lex!” As they rocked and moved, moaned and fucked, Clarke felt Lexa’s skin slick with sweat and exertion. Incredibly, she was enjoying herself immensely.
“Lex,” she panted, “Kiss me,”
Lexa did. She fought to maintain her deeply pleasurable rhythm, and Clarke groaned into her mouth when their lips broke apart. The brunette forgot to yelp when Clarke accidently bit her bottom lip at a particularly vicious thrust.
“C-Clarke,” Lexa moaned, her face clouding with something close to pain, “I am- I need- _skrish!_ Ah _\- jok!”_ She buried her face in Clarke’s shoulder briefly, a stream of curses in her mother tongue spilling from her lips.
Clarke couldn’t breath, her soul seeming to explode out of her body as Lexa’s cock slid in and out of her at an increasingly rapid pace, the solid length filling her up in a hot, heady, dirty and _needed_ way.
“Lexa!” she moaned, pleading for something she didn’t know. Not until Lexa shifted above her, the woman’s hips tilting just enough for Clarke’s insides to feel a tight, hot, wash of perfection. She screamed at the feeling inside of her, wrapping her legs around Lexa as she shivered from head to toe, her spine arching as her insides clamped down on Lexa’s dick.
Lexa growled her pleasure as Clarke gasped. | f6defd62f6404d8aaefaa910f878fc1f | ['58c9e43d38754183a710d5ca26baded8'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
* Translation into Български език available: LINK by LINK
> good luck with this monster. I've broken it up into three chapters for readability.
> kindly step over the plot holes.
** Now **
It only took three knocks for the door to explode open.
“Ruby! I’ve missed you so much!”
“ _Oof-!_ Yang!”
“Come on, can’t I be excited to see my baby sister?”
It was like being hugged by a hurricane. Blonde hair, soap, and the red dust of an Australian road tickled her nose. Ruby felt herself be lowered back to the ground and gave a possibly genuine wheeze. She didn’t bother wiping the smile from her face when Yang released her, a zealous, loud kiss dropped to her temple. Her hands lingered on her sister’s arms.
“Broken ribs in the name of excitement isn’t a valid excuse,”
Yang’s grin didn’t waver, her lilac eyes glittering.
“Lies. Besides, didn’t you already break a few during training?” she slung an arm over Ruby’s shoulders and muscled her into the house, “No one I know graduated basic training without at least two, if fractures count,”
Ruby smiled under Yang’s arm. She had missed her sister a lot.
“Well if fractures count,” Ruby’s voice rolled nearly to the ceiling, “Then you’ll be happy to know I made it out with three,”
Yang laughed, big and warm, ushering Ruby into the kitchen and seating her firmly at the table.
“That’s my sister,” she winked, turning to the fridge, “I’ve got beer, vodka lemonade, and spiked iced tea,”
“Water?”
“Not on my watch,”
Yang filled a glass from the tap anyway, Ruby settling in as her sister shuffled around the small kitchen. She hadn’t been here in six months. Yang had driven her to the airport when she left for basic, and it was strangely nice to come back to the same place when she felt so changed.
“Because if you’re here you either graduated, or you flunked. And both occasions call for alcohol,”
Ruby laughed shortly, Yang smiling as she poured herself into the opposite chair, a beer and two slices of chocolate cake accompanying her. Ruby groaned.
“I have got to get myself a girlfriend,”
Yang snorted, cybernetic fingers popping the top from her bottle.
“It definitely doesn’t suck,”
Ruby dug in, six months of cold turkey sugar withdraw rearing its head with a vengeance. She hummed through a full mouth, shame absent in front of the woman who changed her diapers as a baby.
“Where is Blake, anyway?”
Yang’s eyes went light they way they always did, turning to glance through the window like she’d be able to see her. Ruby’s smile tuned light and private at the expression. Some things never changed. After the 180-degree whiplash-inducing turn her life had taken in the past six months, constants were good to have.
“The shop,” Yang waved dismissively, “Emergency, DEFCON 1, crisis of Mach 5 proportions or something. She’ll be back though,” Ruby nodded, understanding. Yang tipped her head, “So, little sister,” her nose wrinkled, “You didn’t tell me you graduated. What’s up with that? We wanted to come!”
Ruby swallowed. The moisture in the cake dried in her mouth.
“Well, I wasn’t necessarily part of the regular graduating class,” she started. Yang’s eyebrows raised and lowered quickly, a clear question as to whether this was good news or not. Ruby played with her fork, “In fact, I wound up doing really well. Top of my class, actually,”
Yang’s pride seeped outwards, her posture leaning, “Ruby, that’s great! I knew you were going to be amazing! Well done! We should celebrate,”
The smaller woman nodded, grateful.
“Thanks, Yang,” she shrugged halfheartedly, “But they asked me to hang around instead of going to the graduating ceremony. To see if I’d be interested in… an alternate route after graduation,”
Yang’s elation ebbed, Ruby’s careful tone finally seeming to sink in. Blonde eyebrows drew as she took in her sister’s bracing posture, her hesitant verbal steps. She sighed quickly through her nose, suspicion and something close to dread stealing into her chest. Ruby watched it all roll across Yang’s features. She swallowed again, dropping her fork; dropping pretense. Yang drank her beer, setting it down like a gauntlet thrown.
“Who’s ‘they’ Ruby?”
A light moment, and then the plunge.
“General Ironwood,”
“And?”
“Jacques Schnee and Ozborn Ozpin,”
Ruby watched Yang’s features carefully, her lavender eyes hardening in degrees, locked on her own. Her sister was nothing short of highly intelligent on a lazy day, and brilliant on a good one.
“Just tell me,”
“The UN brought back the PPDC three months ago. And they’re bringing back the Jaeger Program,” Ruby sucked in a breath, “They’re recruiting me to go to the Jaeger Academy opening up, and I want to go. They wanted me to ask if you’d consider coming too. Coming back,”
Yang didn’t move. Ruby prepped for the final drive, a splinter shoved deeper down.
“They… They told me that they fixed Ember Shroud,”
When the beer bottle exploded, Yang looked just as surprised as Ruby. The blonde swore, her left hand opening a panel on her robotic right arm’s bicep, jaw locked. She made several taps, closing the lid and manually prying her right fist open.
“Sorry,” Yang mumbled, “Haven’t recalibrated in a couple months,”
“It’s okay,”
The sisters sat in tense silence, Yang’s arm finally cooperating. She breathed through her nose, fixing her sister with a solid stare, mouth set.
“Why are they bringing the program back?”
Ruby had been told explicitly not to, but Yang’s balled left hand, the rigid slope of her shoulders, and the intense honesty in her eyes decided it. She reached to her pocket and shook out several papers, edges ragged out and tightly folded, the ‘CLASSIFIED’ stamp inked red and ignored. |
0365f68aaaf34451a51b2adf2bd98130 | ['58d0e33b69594c569597fc7f6e75f049'] | I blinked at him. "What?"
"My car's across the street. I can drive you home. Or you can, you know, take the _bus_." I narrowed my eyes at him. He said 'bus' as if it were a dirty word.
Trying to retain what dignity I had left, I drew myself to my full height, about to tell him I was old enough to get home on my own, thanks very much. It didn't work though, considering Warren towered over me by at least half a foot and I'd just screamed like a two year-old in front of him. He simply waited for my answer, raising his eyebrows and very pointedly NOT laughing at me, the jerk.
Before taking another step however, I glanced back into the alleyway. Still nothing.
"What's the matter?"
"I thought there was something…." I trailed off. I didn't feel like mentioning what I'd heard now, not after my crazy display of shot nerves. "Nothing, never mind. Let's just go."
xxxxxx
Things were quiet for a while as Warren drove. The visual rhythm of the streetlights zooming past, the steady rumbling of the engine, and the warmth of the car…. it all lulled me into a half dozing state in which my mind slowly began to blend dreams with the waking world.
Orange and yellows lights flashed overhead in an endless whirl of blurring color. Farther ahead, the shadows of the city of Maxville made themselves known- lurking on the edge of where the artificial light couldn't reach. Side alleyways and tree-encumbered streets held the darkness like a tangible thing, a thing that spilled over the sidewalks and crept up windows....
_Lisa's watching…_
My eyes fluttered, disturbed by the unwelcome thought. I squirmed restlessly in the seat, fighting against the nightmare that threatened to unfold in my mind's eye.
Through my haze I heard Warren's voice say, "So what's up with you and Jonah?"
I didn't know if it was his way of distracting me from my evident uneasiness. But I appreciated it nonetheless. "What do you mean?" I murmured sleepily.
"Suddenly you guys are acting like you're best friends or something?"
His obvious distaste roused me somewhat. "He's cool, Warren."
"Hey, I've got nothing against the guy. He seems okay, I guess. Just… remember who he hangs out with."
"Fine," I exhaled softly, my eyes closed. I was too tired to argue. It hardly mattered. It wasn't like Jonah and I were exactly spending all of our free time together anyway.
Seconds later it seemed, I was being nudged awake.
"Arrian. We're here."
Grudgingly I opened one eye, and then promptly closed it. "No, we're not. Take me home."
"You _are_ home. We're just down the street."
"Why?" I grumbled.
There was a pause. "You rather I drive up in front of your house?"
The thought of my father peeking through the front window to see me coming out of a strange black car made me wake up remarkably quickly. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes and groaning, I grabbed my book bag and got out. I closed the door saying, "Thanks for the lift."
"Don't mention it. See you."
I walked quickly down the sidewalk. When I got to my front door, I looked up to see that Warren hadn't moved from where he'd put the car in idle. I waved to him, indicating that I was all right. He nodded before easing the car from the curb and driving away.
Dad was watching the news. At least, he was pretending to. The reality was that he was waiting up for me. His eyes remained fixed on the screen when I walked into the living room and sat down on the couch next to him.
There was a piece on Lisa Kline:
… _the authorities have requested that she not be approached under any circumstances. If seen, please call the number at the bottom of your screen-_
The TV screen went dark and I glanced at my father as he put the remote down. He suddenly looked far older than his forty-three years, and that on top of everything else was almost too much to bear.
"Dad," I began.
"I want you to understand something Annie," he broke in. "As long as I'm here, I'm going to do everything in my power to protect you, no matter what."
I felt the beginnings of a retort form in my mind but I pressed my lips together. Now was not the time. I let him continue.
"But," he added, and his shoulders sagged a little, "I think that sometimes I take things too far. You were right to go to school today. The fact is… I was afraid. And I tried to make you afraid too so that you'd stay home. But I guess you've inherited too much of my stubbornness, huh?" He chuckled softly, then grew serious. "I'm sorry, kid."
I rubbed the back of my neck thoughtfully, trying to take in what he said. My dad had never admitted to being scared of anything in his life. It made me feel strange, like suddenly _I_ wanted to protect _him_. But I didn't answer. I simply picked up the remote.
"Let's watch the game," I suggested.
xxxxxxx
Breakfast was a slow and painful affair, mainly because Mom had gotten up early to fix us something extensive. It was one of her defense mechanisms- she'd cook when things got bad.
And this morning was no exception. As I moved bits of blueberry waffle that she'd made completely from scratch around my plate, she and my father kept throwing looks in my direction. I couldn't tell what they were thinking- everything about their demeanor was guarded and deceivingly calm. I wished they'd stop staring. I'd gotten enough of that on the bus. | f8d7f3d50de04be2a874297283c1ec99 | ['58d0e33b69594c569597fc7f6e75f049'] | Across from me, Warren's face was guardedly thoughtful. He was staring at a group of people at a nearby table. But it was all a ruse, a careful distraction. When he finally turned back to me with that reassuring dry grin, I knew.
He was worried.
After about twenty minutes had lapsed by before I stood up. "I should get going. My dad might come early to get me."
My father no longer trusted me to get home on my own and had taken to picking me up after work. I'd protested fiercely, but he wouldn't budge on the matter.
Warren stood up as well, helping me put on my coat before playfully pulling my snow cap over my eyes.
"Really nice," I said amusedly into the darkness. When I pulled my snow cap back up, Warren was heading toward the kitchens with a final wave.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
Kylie and Jonah were on a roll. Always the heroes, they played an immaculate game of 'Save the Citizen' and when it was over, they embraced one another. I clapped along with the rest of the students, meeting his eyes as he passed me by. He grinned at me tentatively before joining Kylie and Nicole on their way out.
After lunch all the students were to go into the school auditorium. Principal Powers had notified us of meeting here, and I overheard a couple of students say that it had something to do with graduation.
They were not wrong. When we arrived, there was a folder resting on every seat. They turned out to be graduation packages containing forms and receipts to be filled out and signed by us and our parents. I flipped through the folder, quickly assessing its contents.
"You only have a few short months before you graduate and begin your life as a Hero and Hero Support respectively. Now we need the following forms returned to us, signed by both you and your parent or guardian…"
I pulled out a pencil and tried to keep up with everything that was said. When that was done, Powers continued to talk about costume tailoring and fittings, and I took down notes. It was kind of surreal knowing that I would graduate in a few short months, even though it felt like I'd been here for several lifetimes. Paul and I had planned to forfeit our Hero Support and work together after we graduated. Well, that wasn't going to happen now. I wondered who I'd be paired up with.
"What do you know- the torment's almost over," I heard Warren mutter behind me.
I grinned wryly. "Who would have thought?"
When we went on to Super Physics, I thought about my life after Sky High. It was almost upon me and I wasn't surprised to discover that I didn't exactly feel ready to save the world.
Would I be a good Hero? Who would my sidekick be? Would we get along? Would I help more than I hurt? How long would I last out there?
Only the best of the best enjoyed long careers as superheroes. The others more often than not ended up as villains, or like my dad… or worse.
What was going to happen to me?
………………..
There was blood on the snow. I heard Warren shouting something, but I couldn't see him. Voices were everywhere- whispering, shouting, screaming. They made me confused.
Then I suddenly went cold, and fell to the ground, gasping. I couldn't breathe- something warm and sticky was pooling around me which gradually became cold as well. Warren's voice grew fainter and suddenly I couldn't hear anything except the sound of my breathing which became frighteningly shallow.
And suddenly, Paul appeared. He was gray-faced again, smiling, beautiful. Then it came to me.
I was dying.
…………………
As I was making my way to the school library, I saw Warren coming right up to me with an unusually grave expression. Confused and a little nervous, I immediately made a detour into an empty classroom. Warren followed me.
I turned to him. Warren's face was a confliction of anger and distress.
"Something's happened," I said. It wasn't a question.
"Lisa killed two people last week. An old man and his wife."
"What?" I whispered in shock.
"They found her breaking into their house, and she…" Warren closed his eyes. "She tore them apart."
In a daze I sat down, suddenly feeling sick at the mental imagery of his last words. Lisa's evil intent was clear, but for some reason I didn't once think of her hurting the innocent everyday people of Maxville. I'd stupidly assumed she'd just come after us and ignore the rest of the world. It was a mistake. A mistake that cost two people their lives. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision.
After a minute or two, I took a deep breath and tried to get focused. "Okay, wait a minute. You said last week. How is that- I mean, we should have heard about this. My dad would have told me-"
"I don't think he knows, Anna. The police… they won't say anything."
"Then how do _you_ -" I stopped. "Your mom."
Warren walked past me, leaning against the teacher's desk. "She found out. They tried giving her the runaround, but she never could take no for an answer."
I took one look at Warren and knew what he was thinking. "Warren, you can't blame yourself for this-"
"I should've killed her," he said bluntly. "I should've killed her when I had the chance."
"What are you talking about?"
He threw me a bitter glance. "I hesitated, Arrian. I had a clear shot and I hesitated and now two people are dead."
I shook my head. "That's not fair. I had chance to kill her too and I didn't."
"That's different," he said quietly, avoiding my eyes.
"How is it different?" I demanded.
"You know how," he told me sharply. |
b489709af3fd43ae96aabe506d09aae3 | ['58e8aab6e94b4518a62fbb9bb327ccbc'] | “What in Samhell…? Where the- … Who spit on my visor?” Sergeant glanced around, continuing to stutter for a moment.
“Tex, there’s not much time to explain.” Church said quickly, taking advantage of the Sergeant’s dazed state. “So I’m just going to give you the summary here okay? I’m spirit now, and I’m trapped in the physical world. I possessed this red guy,” he gestured with his thumb, “so I could sneak into the base and rescue you while the rest of our guys run about in the middle of the canyon, dressed in black armour that they got from going through the teleporter.”
Tex stared at him for a moment, saying nothing. Church prepared himself for an onslaught of questions. Or perhaps just a hurling of insults.
“Okay.” She said instead, nodding slowly.
“Wha-“ Church spluttered. “That’s it? “Okay”?! You’re not surprised by any of this?”
“No it.. it pretty much all makes sense.” She crossed her arms lazily over her chest again.
“… Come on, not even the whole “Church is a ghost!” thing?” He asked shaking his head bewildered. “That didn’t do anything for ya?” He was, perhaps, hoping she’d express.. Something at that. Was it too much to hope she’d be upset?
“I can see right through you. It’s pretty obvious.” There was a laugh to her voice.
Church wasn’t at all surprised that her laugh could both at once lift his spirits and annoying the fuck out of him. But… she was safe now. That was all that mattered.
“Okay well… let me hop back in this guy and we’ll get out of here.” He shrugged, before focusing back on the sergeant.
Sergeant looked towards him at that, getting out half of a “What in the hell-“ before choking. A moment later and Church was back in control.
“Alright there we go. Come on.” He began to walk towards the exit.
“You know that accent kind of suits you.” Tex said dryly, sounding a little less amused now.
“Oh shut up.” Church growled as they stepped out into the sun. “It does not. I sound like an asshole.”
“That’s kind of what I meant.”
Church shot her a look. He didn’t care if his face was blocked by the visor, or that the face wasn’t even his to begin with. “I JUST rescued you, could you not with the insults?”
Tex snorted but said nothing.
Church sighed. “Alright. I’ll make one more distraction and then you run up to the teleporter and escape. Ready? One, two three-“
BANG!
The sergeant’s body fell to the ground and Church was left standing above it. “What the-“ he spluttered incredulously. “Where did my body go?!” He looked down and bit back a curse. “You’ve got to be KIDDING me!”
“Tucker did it!” Caboose’s voice came over the radio. This time Church swore loudly.
“Just run- Tex, just go I’ll be right with you!”
Tex didn’t need to be told twice. She took off for the teleport atop of Red base as Orange and Lopez jumped down to the ground with a cry of “Sarge!!”
Church radioed the others “GO now, get out of here! We’re going to meet up back at base and when we do, Caboose, you and I are going to have some WORDS.” he growled as he followed Tex.
“What the hell did Caboose do that was wrong?!” Maranta shouted at him over the radio. “He just shot their sergeant!”
“Yeah I was kind of possessing him Maranta!” Church shouted back. “That asshole killed my new body!”
Maranta’s response was a screechy noise of frustration and at that Church shut off the radio.
“See you get along well with your teammates.” Tex grunted before going through the teleporter.
Church sputtered angrily, momentarily rooted to the spot. Down below he could hear Orange shouting, “You gotta breath man! Don’t you die on me!”
His team certainly hadn’t done anything like that for him. Church was, as he ever was, surrounded by assholes and morons.
At least now he had his girlfriend back.
4. Chapter 4
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> HEY ALL! I recommend reading chapters 1 and 2 again- I've updated them so they flow better and are generally better written.
>
> Many thanks to Salt aaaaas always for helping me edit this! <3
Across from Church stood Tex. Off to the side stood Maranta, Caboose, and Tucker. All three looked like they were ready to bolt at the first given opportunity. Tex was leaning against the base wall, looking almost lazy save for the pistol in her hand and the way she was staring Church down.
For the past half hour since returning to the base, Church and Tex had been arguing back and forth. “Look,” Tex was saying, miming yawning, “as far as I’m concerned, I’m square with you.”
The three stooges looked from Tex to Church.
“Excuse me?” he sputtered. “I saved you from a life of imprisonment!” He threw his hands into the air. “How does that make you square with me?!”
Tex shrugged, voice dropping dangerously. “Because _I_ didn’t kill you back on Sidewinder.”
Church faltered. Her voice had done that more often with that AI in her head. And it was still there. She might have sounded like Tex, but how much was she in control? How close was Tex from falling into the backseat while the AI murdered them all?
Well. All but him. Being already dead did help save you from dying again.
“You know… I-I don’t really see how not killing someone is the same thing as doing them a favour…” he faltered, watching the pistol carefully.
“Well, if you don’t appreciate it…” She lifted her pistol up towards him. “I could just kill you right now.” He could hear the grin in her voice. Tex? Or the AI?
Either way he scoffed. “No you can’t. I’m already dead, bitch! I guess the joke’s on you!” | 3fc14054e6d74546b496298c256a0d9f | ['58e8aab6e94b4518a62fbb9bb327ccbc'] | “What an idiot…” Church mumbled as he ran through the canyon. Like he had the time to worry about Tucker, who was another idiot. In fact, his team was full of idiots. He bet the Reds didn’t have to deal with anything like this.
Well, it didn’t matter. He was going to get the flag back and then things could back to the way they were.
3. Chapter 3
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Eeeey here's another chapter! As always thanks to Salt for helping me turn this into something readable. Hopefully I'm pulling away enough from the canon story now? If not the next three chapters definitely are.
> Enjoy guys! =D
The newbie had killed him.
Not Maranta, no. Maranta hadn’t been the one driving the tank. No, that had been Caboose. Killed by his own teammate. What a way to go. At least he could take solace in the fact that it hadn’t been a kill for the Reds.
… Yeah it didn’t actually bring him that much solace. He was still dead either way.
So… why was he still here?
Church stood in the middle of the canyon blinking. Or what passed for blinking when one wasn’t corporeal. The land around him seemed… _real_. Not a dream. The afterlife, then?
He glanced behind him to where Blue base was. Nope, he could see three different shades of blue armour standing around there. Tucker, Maranta, Caboose. So not the afterlife.
He raised his hands to his face curiously. His amour was white now, and he could see through his own goddamn hand. Then the form faded away, though he was still “standing” there.
“Motherfuck. Guess I’m a ghost then.” He said out loud. Funny. He didn’t sound like a ghost. He sounded just the same really. He looked back towards where the others were and narrowed his eyes. He was going to haunt the fuck out of them. They had only been in his life for a short time and yet they had been the biggest cause of misery for him.
Well, other than Tex getting infected with a vicious, malicious A.I. But that was a whole other story.
Church didn’t walk over to the base so much as he willed it to happen. He was in the middle of the canyon one moment and the next was next to the base. He opened his mouth, ready to scare the shit out of them, but stopped short as he heard Tucker say ,“Yeah they’re going to send us a Freelancer. Some dude named Tex. I hope he’s as good as they say.”
Tex. They were sending Tex. Son of a bitch.
Church floundered for a moment, torn between warning the others about Tex and letting them get their asses handed to them by her.
As satisfying as that would be, if Tex was coming here this would be his chance to rid her of that A.I once and for all.
With a great deal of effort and concentration Church made himself visible again. And, since he was a ghost and all, decided to play the part.
“Tuuuuuckeeer. Tuuuuuuucker. I’ve come baaaack with a waaarniiiiing…” He said as he appeared, doing his best not to start snickering as all three of them jumped.
“Who the hell are you?!” Tucker yelped and actually jumped behind Maranta who also looked like he was about to wet himself as he stumbled back. Both Maranta and Tucker tumbled to the ground.
“I am the ghost of Chuuuurch!” He raised his hands up, trying to appear spooky.
While Maranta and Tucker were scrambling to stand up again Caboose said loudly, “You’re not Church! Church is Blue. You’re white.”
Church sighed heavily. “Rookie shut up will you? I’m a freakin’ _ghost_. Have you ever seen a blue ghost before?”
“… Yeah that’s definitely him.” Tucker muttered as he brushed dirt off his armour.
“No doubt about that.” Maranta had a hand over his chest as if to still a rapidly beating heart.
“Now I’ve got to start over again…” Church grumbled before coughing. “Tucker. Tuuuucker. I’ve come back with a-“
“Is it really necessary to do the voice?” Tucker sighed.
“Yeah it’s… Kind of annoying.” Caboose agreed and Maranta nodded along with him.
“Fiiiine,” Church groaned. Geez, he was dead and these idiots were still robbing him of his fun. Just his luck. “Okay here’s the deal. I’ve come back from the dead to give you a warning about Tex.” Not exactly true. He was back before he knew they were bringing Tex here. Still they didn’t need to know that. “Don’t let-“
“What’s the warning?” Caboose asked eagerly.
Church snapped his head to look at Caboose. “Shut up for one second and I’ll tell you!”
“Oh! Sorry,” he said sheepishly.
“Seriously, man, I’m coming back from the “Great Beyond” here, do you think this is easy?” Church shook his head, his mind feeling a bit fuzzy again. “It takes a lot of concentration.”
“Sorry…” Caboose repeated, his head dropping to look at the ground.
Church, however, continued to berate him. “I mean it’s bad enough that you killed me but now I come back and I can’t even get a word in edgewise man!” He took a slow breath, calming himself. “Okay, so here’s the deal-“
“Is this the warning?” Caboose perked up again.
Church closed his eyes. “That’s it. Your ass is haunted. When we’re done here? I’m going to haunt you.”
“Yeah you’re even starting to bug me.” Tucker turned to look at Caboose, whose head dropped again.
“Just listen, Caboose.” Maranta said gently. “It’s okay.”
Church rolled his eyes. “Okay Tucker. Remember how I said I was stationed on Sidewinder before they transferred me here right?”
“… Noooo?” Tucker tilted his head just as Caboose said “Isn’t that the ice planet?”
“Um. Yes.” Church said quickly, hoping to satisfy Caboose. |
2af43bfe7e1e4240b1d6eaf5179f9fa4 | ['58ef65be95044876b79aff45f94c8e68'] | Maria bent down and took his flaccid member into her mouth, sheathing it in the moist warm crevice, fluttering her tongue over the tip while suctioning the shaft like a vacuum cleaner. Norman’s penis was soon built up to its full length again, solid enough for yet another ride. She sat on it and rocked until she shuddered under a final orgasm. Then she climbed off of him and stretched, appearing satisfied to the fullest.
If she wanted to stab him in the chest or cut his balls off next, Norman didn’t care, couldn’t. He felt numb with exhaustion, fear, and pain. Barely conscious, with his head hanging to his chest and blood streaming from the wounds, he sat slumped in the chair like a martyr left for the ravens. All that was missing was a crown of thorns pressed into his scalp.
And this is how his friends found him the next morning, after a frantic search on deck until Andy in desperation remembered to check Crazy Ria’s room. They untied their friend, ripped out the gag and removed the blindfold, before gently lowering him to the floor. Greg covered Norman’s privates while Andy cradled his head in his lap, washing his face with a cool, wet wash cloth. Rooker ran for a doctor, Cookie contacted the police.
Maria had somehow escaped. The cruise ship had docked in the harbor of their destination island that night and someone saw her being rowed ashore in one of the boats. She vanished without a trace until several weeks later, when Norman received a picture of his mutilated body in the mail with a note that made him gasp in shock.
Maria was back in New York and she demanded to meet him. If he refused, she would send pictures of that horrible night all over the internet. Norman, who already seriously considered quitting his acting career and moving into the solitude of the woods, wanted to ignore the blackmailing, but his doctor advised him to comply, so he could come to terms with the nightmare that almost pushed him over the edge. Of course, it would be a setup, and police would be with him to arrest her. This way, Norman could finally get closure.
Upon the agreed time and place, several police officers were strategically positioned around Maria’s apartment.
Norman nodded and took a deep breath, then waited for the go-ahead.
With shaky fingers, he pushed the door bell and nearly bolted when he heard the door being unlocked. The doorknob turned slowly. In a moment he would be face to face with the person who tortured him and poisoned his sleep with nightmares ever since. Norman was far from ready for this encounter, and with balled fists, he bit his lips to keep his nerves in check, but he couldn’t stop trembling. He glanced helplessly at the cop closest to him. He gave him an encouraging nod and thumbs up when he saw how hard this was for Norman. Then the door opened.
He hardly recognized her. The woman’s once piercing eyes now had a dull stare. Her hair looked even crazier than the last time he saw her, and her clothes hung disheveled on her once large frame. Then he noticed her hands. Puss oozed from infected cuts, but what really freaked him out were the walls and décor in the room behind her. Before he even stepped inside, several police officers rushed forward and tackled Crazy Ria to the floor. Norman stood speechless in the living room. The walls were plastered with pictures of him, the shelves stuffed with figures of Daryl Dixon and other Walking Dead characters. It wasn’t just an obsession, the place was a fucking shrine. But the thing that shocked him most was a figure sitting at the kitchen table that totally resembled him! He moved toward it in slow motion to take a closer look. Then he saw it. The same plastic head and torso Crazy Ria brought to the cruise and gave him as a fan present, but this one was set atop a life-size, stuffed doll wearing street clothes, the way people fashion Halloween porch decorations. The hair, clothes, everything looked just like him. Weak with horror, Norman continued to the next room, the bedroom, and sure enough, a Norman Reedus look-alike doll lay on one side of the bed. He stumbled past the bathroom, stopped, took a step back and stared at the shower. There was another figure peering out behind the curtain. Norman recoiled. He did not care to find out if the figure was naked. But it was the next room that really took his breath away. A nursery, complete with crib, toys, rocking chair and books on a shelf. A lullaby played quietly on top of the changing table. There was a baby lying in the crib, and in the rocking chair sat an adult-sized doll resembling a mother rocking her newborn, all real looking but definitely fake, made of the same material as the busts of him. That’s why, when Norman stumbled backward and bumped into someone, he nearly jumped out of his skin.
“What the fuck!?” he yelled. “What the hell is going on here?” He turned around and stared at the elderly lady behind him in horror.
She looked kind, but extremely sad.
“Who are you? Are you at least real?” he whispered.
The lady nodded and stretched out a hand. “Mr. Reedus? I am the next door neighbor, Louise. I heard the commotion and came right over. I am a friend of Misses… Maria’s. She is not well.”
“Not well? Are you kidding me? That lady is completely nuts! Can you please tell me what’s going on here? And how you know my name?” He gestured frantically at the scene around him.
“I know what it looks like, Mr. Reedus, and of course I know your name. That’s all she talks about. I understand you’re upset, but please don’t be afraid. I will explain and hope you will be able to forgive her one day.”
At a loss for words, Norman could only stare at her.
“Why don’t we sit down over there, hm?” Louise gently took him by the arm and steered him toward the living room. Norman let her guide him obediently, too freaked out to form a coherent argument. What he should do, he thought, was to get the hell out of here and let the police do their job. But something compelled him to follow the stranger to a couch that wasn’t occupied, neither by fake nor real people.
The neighbor began explaining without further ado. “A few years ago, Maria was happily married and about to become a grandmother as their only daughter was pregnant with her first child. It was an exciting, happy time for the whole family. They were on the way home from the baby shower, the daughter in one car loaded with presents, and her mother in the car behind her with more presents, when the daughter swerved out of the way of a deer. She hit a tree. The car caught fire before Maria could pull her out because the hood was pushed in and the engine trapped her legs. She burned alive in front of her mother. A few weeks later, Maria’s husband committed suicide because he couldn’t cope with the loss of his daughter and grandchild. Only Maria’s determination to plow on and suffer for her inability to save her family kept her going. But along the way she created a desperate fantasy world in which she was Mrs. Norman Reedus. Her obsession with you, Mr. Reedus, kept her alive and was her only way to get through the day and keep the demons at bay. I think it’s important that you know this, and maybe it makes her behavior, if not acceptable, but understandable. Maria has left the real world a long time ago.”
Norman slowly slid to the floor and buried his face in his hands, shaking with sobs. A police officer bent over him and asked if he wanted to say something to his abuser before they took her away. Norman shook his head.
He watched as Crazy Ria was led away with her hands cuffed behind her back, turning around to give him a last, sorrowful and apologetic look.
“Be careful with her, don’t hurt her!” Norman shouted after them. He summoned a couple officers and insisted to drop all charges, then walked out of the apartment into the night.
Three months later, Bellevue Psychiatric Hospital, where Maria would spend the rest of her life:
The nurse tapped her gently on the shoulder and lovingly covered her legs with a blanket before wheeling her into the yard. She bent down and whispered into Crazy Ria’s ear: “Mrs. Reedus, your husband is here for his visit…” | b1aa089a8c704e39b6e20daac3306fa6 | ['58ef65be95044876b79aff45f94c8e68'] | “I won’t,” Daryl reassured her, watching spellbound as she writhed under his touch. In her eyes he could see what the mixture of restrained but masterful, heart-felt love-making did to a woman.
She arched her back toward him, pressed herself against his deft fingers, gasping, rising over the top, and exploding under his fingertips. It had never felt like this, not for him, nor for her. She rode the wave of ecstasy to its crest, lingered, and descended haltingly, eyes wide open, a changed woman, and he, a better man.
They fell asleep, blissfully spent and contented by what they had brought out in the other.
During breakfast the next morning, a gang of marauders broke into the house and took Beth…
Months after the kidnapping and living by himself while searching for his friends, brother or Beth, Daryl rejoined Rick’s group after an especially gruesome run-in with guys who were worse than any either one had ever encountered. But he had found Rick, and Merle had joined them around the same time. It felt like a family reunion to them.
The morning after killing each and every one of the gang, Rick and Daryl leaned against the side of a car, filling each other in on their whereabouts since they got separated.
“What about Beth? Have you seen her?” Rick asked.
“We got out together, then I lost her. I don’t know what happened to her since.”
“Is she dead?”
“She’s just gone.” Then he added, “We were together, you know.”
Rick looked up. “You mean, together together?”
Daryl nodded. “It came from her. I didn’t take advantage or anything.”
Rick gave him a steady look. “I believe you. Wouldn’t be surprised if a little wildcat was hiding underneath all that innocence.” He winked. When he saw Daryl’s upset face, he placed a hand on his friend’s knee. “I’m sorry, brother. She was a sweet girl.”
Merle walked up and sat on his haunches in front of them. “What’s a matter?”
With his chin, Rick pointed at Daryl. “He’s lost someone special.”
Daryl couldn’t hold back his tears and they ran freely down his cheeks, in front of Merle who for once didn’t insult him about it. “She could still be alive,” he whispered. “We don’t know what happened to her.”
Merle looked from Daryl to Rick and back at Daryl. “Who are you talking about?”
“The young girl from the farm, one of Hershel’s daughters. Daryl was with her last.”
“You mean Beth?”
They nodded.
Merle blanched and cleared his throat. “Just how special are we talking?”
Daryl looked at him, surprised. “You know, like…” He let his words trail off.
Merle got up and took a step back, scratching his head. “I’ll be damned.”
“Why? What do you mean?”
“Nuthin’. Give me a day or two, see what I can do.”
Daryl tried pressing him for more, but Merle wouldn’t say. He walked away, shaking his head.
The next day, as the group sat around the camp fire for dinner, Merle appeared. He wasn’t alone. When Daryl realized his brother had arrived, he looked up and his gaze shifted to the person next to him.
It was Beth.
A pregnant Beth.
She yelped and ran into Daryl’s outstretched arms. He held her as if he would never let go, laughing and crying, clinging on to her like a drowning victim to a life saver, then held her at arms’ length and stared at her belly.
When he looked into her eyes, she nodded.
Slowly the story emerged. Beth had been able to escape shortly after she was taken hostage by the gang who broke into the funeral home, and she eventually found her family. From then on they hid in the woods, afraid of becoming separated again. Merle found Glenn one day, out on a hunt for food, and followed him to their little hut in which he lived with Maggie, Beth and their father. Now they were all here and the reunion was tremendous.
Hershel knew Daryl was the father of his youngest daughter’s child, and he seemed okay with it. He gave him a hug and a slap on the shoulder, glad to have him back.
Merle was delighted. Pointing at Beth, he bellowed, “I’m gonna be an aunt or an uncle soon, d’pending on if it’s a boy or a girl. Can y’all believe that?”
The group laughed at his joke. “Who would’ve thought: Our Daryl is a hound dog after all,” someone shouted. Knee slapping, handshakes, cowbell.
Daryl blushed deeply and hung his head in embarrassment, his fringe covering his eyes. But if you looked closely, you could see the wide grin spreading from ear to ear.
Rick’s group found new dwellings in an abandoned farmhouse not far from a town that still had several warehouses and stores stocked with supplies. Rick and his team declared the town safe for now, but they decided to move into the farmhouse for old times’ sake, and bring as many supplies from town as they could before someone could stop them.
Beth’s pregnancy progressed normally and she and Daryl could often be seen sitting on the porch, her head in his lap, Glenn playing guitar and the girls singing along. “Uncle” Merle hung out most nights, entertaining them with jokes. |
852dc941dce94d90843c0d2417cd955b | ['58f2c5103a1a466ab3d8c264c97efa56'] | The air was different here, sharp and heavy with the scent of flower perfume and the rank smell of dying vegetation. The waterfall had dried to a trickle, the pond it filled had grown stagnant, filmed by a layer of dark green mold growth. And yet, despite the decay, the space around the house still felt calm, almost serene.
Most definitely lifeless, though. Reno tapped his nightstick against his leg thoughtfully as he studied the house. The front door was locked, but he pried it open and stepped into a room that felt as disused as it looked. Elmira wasn't here and hadn't been here for a while. No surprise, really. Anyone with half a brain and the ability to leave would have done so long before now.
Reno took a deep breath, inhaled dust, and spent a moment sneezing and coughing his lungs clear. He didn't know what he'd been looking for, or expecting, or hoping... maybe that Elmira would be here, would have some kind of answer for what was going on.... But she wasn't the Ancient any more than Aeris had ever been her daughter. It might as well have been Sephiroth's hand that locked the door. There were no answers to be had in the past.
Shaking his head, Reno let himself out again and closed the door behind him.
Mopping up the last of Sector Six didn't take all that long, surprisingly. They managed to make their way from Five to Six without being ambushed by any Whole Eaters or Hell Houses or any other freaks of Mako-creation. The paths between the two sectors were eerily, uncannily empty and silent, as if even the monsters had fled before the awesome impending doom of Meteor.
They gave Six a rapid and cursory exploration. The HoneyBee bath (whore) House was empty, as were the hotel and the restaurants. Even Big Bro's gym echoed hollowly when they intruded. The dress shop, the scrap yard, all empty. Reno drew the line at the edge of Don Corneo's territory, though. Not that he expected the groveling, backstabbing toady to still be there anyway. No, Corneo had probably never come back after his run-in with the Turks in Wutai.
Reno's men were just as glad to skip Corneo's turf and head back for Five and the outside world. No one speculated about whether or not the acid rain would have stopped. No one had the energy. They plodded along, exhaustion now overriding discipline, most of the troopers half-oblivious to their surroundings.
Reno wasn't, and the captain of his team wasn't either. They watched the jumbled piles of scrap metal, rotting debris, and odds and ends of garbage closely, tensely anticipating an attack. It wasn't until the captain muttered, "Do you hear that?" that Reno realized why he was on edge.
There was a low, rumbling, hissing susurrus of background noise. Directionless, it seemed to thrum in his bones regardless of which way he turned his head. By the time they reached Sector Five, the other men heard/felt it too.
"That doesn't sound good," one of them said. Nervous tension made the troopers bunch up into a tight knot, weapons at the ready.
"What is it?" the captain asked Reno quietly.
All the Turk could do was shake his head, as baffled as the rest of them. "Whatever it is, it can't be good. Let's get back to the rendezvous ASAP!"
"Yes, Sir!" they all replied smartly, and set out, double-time.
_//Shelter,
give them shelter from the coming
Shelter
Give them shelter from the coming
Shelter
oh, give them shelter
from the coming storm//_
They met Elena's team at the gates to the outside world. Like her men, Reno's stopped and stared at the crackling bright afternoon that was visible beyond the shadow of the Plates. The land outside was sere, pockmarked, etched by the acid rain. There were no clouds to be seen, nothing but the huge glowing orb of Meteor, so large now it threatened to blot out the sun.
"Gods above and below," Reno murmured, shielding his face with his hand. He turned to glance at Elena and found her expression just as awestruck as his own must be. Is Kalm going to be far enough? he wondered. But there was no where else to go.
"'Lena," he said, fatigue making his tongue lazy. She turned to look at him with a peculiar intensity. "Tell the men to get out of here, now. Last call for the bus to sanity."
She nodded, ignoring or too tired to acknowledge his quip. In short order the remaining troopers had the trucks lined up and idling, and they piled in. Reno and Elena waited, watched, and tried to project the infamous Turk calm that the men expected -- and needed. Finally, though, it was their turn to climb up into the back of one of the trucks. They both heaved a sigh of relief and stumbled forward.
"Reno," Elena said, her voice tight.
He paused in the act of giving her a hand up onto the truck bed and blinked at her. "What?"
"The church," she said quietly, and his heart sank, rolling in a snowbank before landing somewhere around his ankles. "Did you check the church?"
Images flashed before his mind's eye: flower beds, broken pews, the great gaping hole in the ceiling, Cloud and Aeris standing, fleeing, fighting, and...
"The _children_ ," Elena said urgently. "Did you check for the orphans?"
How could he have forgotten? Sure the church was off the beaten path of Sector Five, but they'd been so _thorough_ , so _careful_....
Not careful enough. He _had_ forgotten, and Elena could read it in the shellshocked expression on his face.
"Send the men on," she said. "We'll keep one truck, go back and double-check."
A sudden gust of wind whipped their hair across their faces, scouring them with grit.
"No," Reno replied quietly. "I don't think there's time. Go on, I'll go check." | d4a30e10644545bf9c96843b38ebbf0a | ['58f2c5103a1a466ab3d8c264c97efa56'] |
Shelter
**Author's Note:**
> This is not a song-fic, but it does use song lyrics as scene breaks between chapters. Lyrics to "Shelter" are © Sarah McLachlan, reprinted without permission for entertainment purposes only.
_//They crowded into the smallest places
Outside all of nature cried
It's known to be cruel and unfair
but there is no place to hide...//_
They met in the 64th floor conference room, because there was really no reason not to. It was still off-limits to the mass of Shinra employees, and well away from the clamour of frightened citizens crowding into the lobby of Shinra Headquarters.
The ranks of Shinra middle management were depressingly thinned, Reno thought, glancing from Reeve to Rude and then to Elena. The four of them were the only ones left with even a remote claim on authority. One by one the others had been whittled away; the President, Palmer, Scarlet, Heidegger, even Tseng, and Rufus Shinra. Ghods above and below, he hated to admit it, but he _missed_ Rufus. Sure he'd had his disagreements with the Turks, but at least he had been a leader. He'd proved that above all else, had died proving it, in Junon.
Reno sighed, tilted his chair back on two legs and propped his boot heels on the long mahogany desk. No one protested, not even the usually formal Reeve. They had bigger problems than Reno's boots scuffing the desk.
Reeve cleared his throat, and the three Turks looked at him expectantly. Midgar's head of Urban Development looked as tired as they all felt. He might not have been battling literal monsters for the past few days like they had, but he had his own demons -- the media and the people of Midgar.
"I don't think I have to tell you that we have a rather... large situation on our hands," he said quietly.
Elena nodded, reaching up to rub at a recently acquired bruise on her cheek. Rude's face was as expressionless as ever, his eyes still hidden by his sunglasses. Reno resisted the urge to wisecrack. He was too tired. They were all too tired.
"Meteor's current trajectory will bring it down onto, or at least very near, Midgar," Reeve continued.
Reno frowned. "I thought it was supposed to hit that crater up in the North."
"It was." Reeve sighed, scrubbing one hand through hair that hadn't been washed or combed in a day or two. "But something has changed its course. My _guess_ is that the Mako Reactors are acting as a magnet. The Lifestream is nearer the surface here than anywhere else on the planet."
"Can't we shut them down?" Elena asked, shifting forward in her chair.
"And leave Midgar in darkness? Well. We could, but there's not much point. It won't change Meteor's course."
Reno closed his eyes, rocking his chair a little.
"We have to make an announcement of some kind. People are still looking to Shinra for leadership. They're afraid...."
"Fear makes people stupid," Rude murmured.
"And stupid people end up dead," Reno finished, opening his eyes again and staring up at the ceiling. "Evacuation, then, Reeve?" He tilted his head down and glanced across the table at the dark-haired man.
"Yes," Reeve said, his voice finally really betraying how bone deep tired he was. "We have a number of the Gelnikas left. We can shuttle people out to Kalm. And there are enough SOLDIERs left to keep things orderly."
"If you still trust them," Reno muttered, thinking of the crazy ones he and the other Turks had already been forced to terminate. The surge of powers in the Planet was not making life easy on anyone or anything that had been Mako-modified.
"Is Kalm going to be far enough?" Elena asked, ignoring Reno's comment.
Reeve shrugged helplessly. "It's going to have to be. We can't take them any further." Shaking his head, he sighed. "Those that haven't left already will just be glad to be evacuated. There aren't many usable routes from the Plate to ground level left."
Which left one question unasked. Reno glanced at Elena, and then at Rude, who raised an eloquent eyebrow at him.
"Oh, fine," Reno muttered. He had taken over as unofficial leader of the Turks, since Tseng.... "What about the Slums?" he asked.
A tired smile briefly graced Reeve's lips, taking at least a decade off his appearance. "There are trucks, the last we've been able to hold onto, and a couple of busses also, down at the gates of Sector Five. The trick is just getting the people to _leave._ "
Reno rolled his eyes and studied the ceiling again. Given all that had happened to the Slums, the collapse of Sector Seven and everything since, he couldn't blame any of the residents there for just hunkering down and refusing to budge. It would get them all killed though, if Reeve was right.
If Reeve was right....
"What do you propose, oh great and fearless Manager of Urban Development?" Reno asked. He tried to keep the sarcasm from his voice, somewhat successfully. He did respect Reeve, would even confess to admiring his dedication if pressed to offer an opinion. But old habits died hard, and sarcasm was one of his oldest defenses.
"Well," Reeve began cautiously. "SOLDIER needs an authority figure to follow. I don't cut it. Rude might. They know him, and he's impressive enough," he added with a nod to Rude.
Rude's expression didn't change, but he nodded in return.
"I can handle the media and coordination efforts. He can manage SOLDIER and the actual evacuation. And you and Elena..." he hesitated, probably suspecting Reno wasn't going to be happy with his plan.
"And Elena and I can go crawl through the Slums, dig out the stragglers, and otherwise try not to get our asses kicked by some pissed off dwellers below the Pizza."
Reeve winced. |
36a24927fb854f62a5ce5af359d8d72a | ['5908913a18fb410da387a78f2073fded'] | To say that Rickon has been a trial would be an understatement… even with Sansa reminding all of them with every breath of her that her ‘Ricky’ had had it the toughest of all of them with being the youngest, not even remembering their parents and being in the system for by a year longer than Bran before Benjen and they were finally able to extricate him. The boy seemed to chase trouble like the hounds of the hells were on his heels.
He had been caught smoking pot when he was just fifteen at that posh little boarding school Sansa had gods-knew-how gotten him into. She had used every resource she could lay her hands on to smooth out the storm. She had stepped in with her cleverly disguised sweet words and sweeter smiles, the well-placed donations, the well-timed dinner parties, calling in favors- and she had saved the day.
Who knew what it would take this time. And the little rascal was in college no less. It was a testament to Sansa’s tenacity and dedication that he was even _in_ college, even in a shitty little one as Skagos U. But still… And now this! Not to mention, all this getting dumped on Sansa while Jon had been completely out of the picture, increasing the parameter of Sansa’s stress-zone, all because of something as superficial as a boyish crush he had on her. She must be furious at him and he sure as hell was not going to lose her over something as idiotic and completely ridiculous as a crush. He had to manage it- himself- better.
Sansa had saved him from the abyss of hopelessness, had given a purpose to his life when he had felt himself starting to float away like a straw in a strong current after not only losing his career so unexpectedly but also the family he had never yet appreciated for the treasure that it was. And when he was lucky enough to get the opportunity, he had been there for her when she had battled her nastiest demons, both inner and worldly. That’s what they had always done… been there for each other. And together they had been there for the kids. They were all more or less grownups, but they still needed Jon and Sansa to step up every now and then. If his stupid little situation of overwhelming emotions surrounding Sansa was going to interfere with his role as a guardian, he just had to deal with it with a stricter restraint.
His mind made up, Jon sat straight and rigid in the back seat of the car as Podrick drove them over to the house. There had been nothing left of the house they had grown up in after a fire had demolished the abandoned settlement. Sansa had had this sprawling house made where earlier the ancestral Stark home had stood while she was still in college when their business had started picking up. She had added onto the house almost every year since then. Even this year, she was adding in a small greenhouse shed out back. Jon had fought with her on the constant construction around the house three or four times, they had both slammed a few doors, with the arguments ending with either him giving in or Sansa reassuring him that the latest add-ons were the last.
They weren’t. She always started planning the new additions just days after the latest one was done. Jon always gritted his teeth and went with it until he just couldn’t hold in his rants. He was secretly resigned to the idea that he’d be arguing on this issue with Sansa until one of them died of irritation or old age.
Jon quickly dumped his trolley bag and suiter in his room and was coming to find Sansa to ask whether he should order in dinner for them when he found her still in the kitchen yelling at her phone with an uncertain Podrick hovering behind her. Jon wordlessly nodded his thanks and waved Podrick off. Both men knew only one person could reduce infamously passive-aggressive Sansa Stark to scream like a mere mortal.
“-unfair! We at least had a normal childhood, heck normal teenage years I’d say… That means we were equipped, somewhat, to deal with all that happened! He wasn’t!... Well, he’s not you or I or Bran! You can’t expect everyone to have your divine level of toughness-”
Jon gently took the phone from Sansa before she physically hurt herself bending over the counter anymore in her agitation. “Wait a sec, Arya.” He looked at Sansa’s defiant eyes for a long beat, and she gave in first. It was another sign of how truly distressed she was. She bent her head and touched it lightly to his shoulder while her whole body stayed tensely away at an arm’s length. Jon lightly rested his right palm over the back of her head and spoke on the phone, “Go.”
Arya didn’t waste a breath. “The time for coddling was over when the pot incident happened, but- Anyway, I’m not pointing fingers any longer,” her tone clearly implied otherwise, “Sansa thinks she can swing the rustication to suspension and I think he should spend out his suspension in Bravos with me rather than an extravagant vacation that will be his stay with you guys.” Jon couldn’t argue on the last point knowing how Sansa bent over backward trying to smother Rickon with every little thing he missed out on and she thought he deserved every chance she got of doting on him.
“That might be best for him at this point.” He kept his voice carefully devoid of emotions and still felt Sansa stiffen. “What are your plans?”
“First I’ll kick the shit out of him-”
“ _Negative on that_.” Jon kept his tone as mild as he could. _Sansa_ would kick the shit out of both of them if anyone even laid a finger on Rickon. | 4b634e1db5564aefba02be7beb80a368 | ['5908913a18fb410da387a78f2073fded'] | “I am _not_!” Jon rushed emphatically, “I don’t…” And then he averted the piercing dark gray eyes that were so familiar it hurt, “Not anymore.” When no one said anything for several moments, he looked up to see those eyes watching him with curiosity, “I don’t, Ally. It’s all still a mystery to me… That whole period of my life… But this much I am sure of, your Mum always did what she thought was best for you and I will fight _everyone_ in this world who’d _dare_ blame her for _any_ of it.”
Alyssa’s eyes danced over his face as if she was amazed by what she saw there. She even looked a bit spooked if Jon was being honest. So he slowly took a few steps back and lowered his head. The very last thing he ever wanted was to intimidate his own daughter. His head snapped up when he heard the hushed whisper, “Youneverrecognizedme!”
Jon didn’t comprehend what she had said and his brows furrowed as he asked, “Wha-?” “ _Everyone_ knew! You didn’t!” And Jon understood.
Jon’s heart begged to take the little girl up in his arms, hold her tight to his heart and never ever let go. Instead he took a couple of steps towards her and said in a gentle whisper, “Wait for me ok? I’ll be back in a minute.”
When Jon came down from his room barely a few minutes later, he stumbled to see Daenerys and Alyssa’s head huddled together and Missandei shaking her head at them disapprovingly. He didn’t know why he had the feeling of intruding upon them, but he cleared his throat nonetheless. His daughter and his aunt snatched their heads away so quickly and with such force, Jon was genuinely worried about probable harms to their heads’ attachment to their respective shoulders for a moment. But that thought quickly left his thought to make room for the more pressing issue at hand.
He slowly made his way to where Alyssa sat on a stool at the breakfast bar and placed the yellowed, dog-eared photograph in front of her. He could feel not only Alyssa, but also Daeny and Missandei peering over his shoulder at the photograph with barely contained interest. He licked his lips nervously and spoke slowly, carefully as it was so imperative his daughter understood this. “Everyone now tells me they knew the _moment_ they saw you because you looked _exactly_ like me. And while I amaze at that because to me you’re _far_ too exquisite to look anything like me, but yes, I can appreciate the similarities in our features.” Behind him Daeny snorted while uttering something that sounded suspiciously like _‘Similarities? Dimwit!’_ and Jon had to close his eyes for a second to strive for restraint and not barking at Daeny like he’d been itching to do since he’d heard of Sansa being on that damned plane.
Instead Jon decided to focus on the most important person in the room, “Ally, I never noted like everyone else that you looked like me, because… Well, I guess I am not that familiar with my own features as I don’t see them as often as the others do. And even after I knew, it’s not _myself_ I see in you… it’s someone I had seen so long ago and I only had this ratty old photograph with me, so I had forgotten how she looked for a bit… really it’s nothing compared to how beautiful she _really_ looked. For one thing, it doesn’t convey the light, the sparkle of silver in her eyes. And I hadn’t seen that for _so_ long… _until I saw you laughing_. You _always_ seemed to remind me of someone I knew. But I lost her when I was so young, you see? It took me awhile to realize that you look _just_ like her. These guys don’t realize as they’d never seen _her_. They mistake these for _my_ features on your face while _never_ even realizing that even _I_ had _inherited_ them from _someone else_.”
Jon heard Daeny gasp really loud behind him as she practically fell on his shoulder to get a better look at the photograph in front of Alyssa, “Jon, is that-?” “ _You mother?!_ ” Missandei finished in the same incredulous voice. Jon, however, only answered the question in Alyssa’s now very curious eyes, “You look _so_ much like her. You _are_ so much like what everyone told me she was like. Gods, little girl, I have loved you even before I knew you were _my_ little girl because you reminded me so much of the best part of my childhood. And anyone who doesn’t love you moments within _knowing_ you, regardless of who your parents are, is a damned big fool, and I surely wasn’t one of them.”
Jon’s gasped with shock the moment he saw the beautiful innocent face crumbling with sobs and then Alyssa climbed off the stool, rounded around him and went and hid her face in Missandei’s chest. Jon tried not to let his heartbreak show on his face. He knew, given Alyssa’s history with father figures, she’d be drawn to a motherly presence when in of comfort and it was in no way an indication of how she felt towards him in particular, but he still felt like sobbing himself. Daeny’s hand squeezed his shoulder reassuringly and he clutched onto it for some much-needed support.
Alyssa being Alyssa though, within a few moments she was rubbing her face trying to gain her composure and act all tough again. Oh, how Jon’s heart swelled with love and pride and sorrow. He vowed in that moment to shower _so much_ love and adoration on his girl that she would always feel comfortable enough to completely breakdown in front of him if she ever felt the need to do so. _One day… soon_. He promised himself. |
03813078cdd04fe7a2b505f502f32bcd | ['59109b158eaf4b098170d082e1b4dda1'] | Spock dragged him over to it and pulled back the curtain.
Eyebrows raised, Jim bit him lip to resist the urge to whistle.
While Jim was suffering and being overall useless, Spock had been busy. Their vague oval-shape was now an actual tunnel.
“So…you weren’t going to tell me about this?” Jim asked, trying to go for light-hearted mirth, but the words ground themselves out on the tips of rage.
Spock didn’t look impressed at all as he shrugged one thin shoulder. “It isn’t finished.”
“How far does it go, Spock?” He almost shook him. Almost kissed him. Almost wept.
“It goes for some distance, Captain,” he said, as if that wasn’t an amazing feat.
Jim reached for Spock, gripped his shoulder and drew him so their foreheads touched. “You’ve been working on this while I—”
“While you were forced to watch our crew die?” said Spock, eyes so dark they were almost black. “Yes.”
He didn’t know who moved first—for all Jim did know, it was both of them—but suddenly their lips were touching again. Spock’s hands were on his face, angling his head; and Jim’s hands pressed into Spock’s shoulder blades, fingers dug into the skin as if he could merge them given half a chance.
Spock broke free first, and Jim chased after.
Another, briefer kiss, then Spock was bent in front of the tunnel and Jim was trying to catch his breath.
“Do you think we can hide inside?”
“Logically, the proconsul knows of this tunnel. If we hide inside, we’ll only be putting ourselves in the perfect place to be killed.”
Jim’s jaw creaked as he ground his teeth. “But if he didn’t know, we could lay low. Hide until they stopped looking for us.”
Spock met his gaze. “Captain, do we truly want to risk that?”
“We’re both dead men, Mr. Spock. What are we truly risking?”
* * *
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I do realize that Spock would've been very exact in how long the tunnel was, but I couldn't figure out how long I wanted it to be, so therefore I compromised with myself.
> Let me live, thank you.
3. iii.
* * *
In the end, they agreed the tunnel would be too risky to hide in.
But that left them with nothing else. No other plans except Jim’s suicide mission of breaking the wine decanters and rushing at the two guards stationed outside. Unfortunately, his other attempts had been just as rushed and this one would, no doubt, end as those had. But Jim didn’t know what else to do. He turned a circle as Spock let the tapestry fall over the hole.
“It’s late, Captain,” said the Vulcan.
Jim only then noted the sag of his shoulders. The darkness under his eyes, and the dullness of his gaze.
Spock didn’t sigh or yawn, but he might as well have. “We should get some sleep.”
“I can’t—I won’t sleep!” Jim rubbed his hands together, trying and failing to come up with plan after plan.
A _thunk_ , then another, made them both tense. Jim rounded on the door as his hand went to his hip. He grasped air, then moved to the table and grabbed one of the decanters. He spilled the wine on the floor and readied to use it as the door slowly swung open.
Just enough to admit a head.
“Captain!” A grin caught on Scotty’s pale, worn face and lit it up. “Was hoping I wasn’t lied to.”
Jim’s hands curled around the glass, then he set it aside and was across the room, dragging Scotty inside, in an instant. “What’s going on? Lied to by who?”
Here, his third-in-command went grave, eyes darting one way to another. They alighted on Spock and Scotty managed a grin and a nod before he met Jim’s eyes. “Merik. He’s…staging an escape. As far as I can tell, it’s legitimate, Captain. Gave us the tools and knowledge to do it.”
“There is no logical reason for Captain Merik to help us. In fact, if this fails, it will hurt his standing considerably.”
Jim met Spock’s gaze. “No, there isn’t,” he said. But his gut. It was telling him this was real. “Who’s us?”
Scotty grinned again and opened the door. There stood Uhura and Christine Chapel, the two guards they’d knocked out were still unconscious and tied up against the wall. Uhura beamed at him tiredly, and Jim wanted so badly to stride forward and hug them both. He did nothing more than smile like a fool.
“Captain, it could be a trap.” Spock was ramrod straight, jaw tight and eyes dark.
“Guilt, Spock,” said Scotty, coming forward to clap the Vulcan on the shoulder. “He was once one of us, he remembers.”
Jim didn’t like this either, but it was better than what he had. Which was straight up nothing. “Mr. Spock, you’re coming with us. That’s an order.”
Spock tilted his head, his only sign of acceptance for this completely illogical course of action.
Uhura touched his shoulder as Jim left the room with Spock in tow, and Christine looked away only briefly from where she was lookout. It wasn’t a warm greeting by any means, and Jim imagined she blamed him for McCoy. As she should.
A long gash down Christine’s cheek had healed badly, and it tugged the left side of her mouth down.
“Are you two—?”
His communications officer nodded. “We’re fine, Captain. They had us in line for slave training. The nurse hit one of our guards when they got handsy—I helped.”
She showed off the bandaged wound from shoulder to mid-forarm with pride, even as Jim’s stomach did a few somersaults. | ffa1f5cfb144427b9f6ef3f0c2cb2792 | ['59109b158eaf4b098170d082e1b4dda1'] | In fact, he’d continue them just to torture Jim further.
Jim turned the water off and stood there, dripping for a moment before finally stepping out. He was exhausted, half-asleep as he stared at himself in the mirror. They’d contacted Starfleet, and ships were already enroute to both Thoxemia and Magna Roma. He’d spent all his time after getting off the Daniel talking to one person after another, recounting his tales, and the death tolls and what the next courses of actions should be.
Before long, Claudius Marcus would be on that penal colony—Jim had already set everything on motion.
After haphazardly drying off, Jim threw his towel over his shoulder so he could go back into his room and about jumped out his skin in the doorway.
“Captain.” Spock met his gaze.
Jim hurriedly wrapped his towel around his waist, silently cursing. He highly doubted this was one of his reoccurring dreams come to life.
They’d shared kisses, sure but…well, this was a pretty big leap from that.
“Spock!” For a moment, that’s honestly all Jim had to say. He was far too flabberghasted to honestly formulate a sentence. Finally, however, he found the words. “What are you doing in here?”
One eyebrow raised, Spock stood a little straighter. “It seems the Thoxemians’ gave us the same room, Captain.”
Jim almost smiled. Instead, he only copied his companion and raised on eyebow. “Oh?”
“Yes. It seems they’ve put Scotty and Merik together, and Uhura and Nurse Chapel in the same rooms as well. There’s a large delegation coming from the other side of the planet, and they need to conserve rooms.”
Casually, he moved closer to the bed. He felt bad for Scotty, staying with the man that was partially to blame for all their problems. If he hadn’t been such a coward in the beginning, then maybe they’d have had a chance.
But he wasn’t thinking about any of that.
Instead, Jim watched as Spock’s muscles tightened the closer he got. Those dark brown eyes slid where they’d steadfastly been focused on his face, and Jim’s skin tingled in the wake of the path they took.
“Spock,” he said, not surprised his voice came out rough. “Kiss me again.”
And all of that considerable Vulcan control snapped. Jim saw it—just barely—before the Vulcan was on him. Hands gripped him, effortlessly pulled him closer, fingers dug bruises into his back. Jim groaned as he clutched at Spock, the feel of the alien’s warm hands on his slick skin about made him melt completely.
Spock smoothed a hand down his back tenderly as he broke away, both of them panting. “Captain—”
“No.” He ran his fingers over the sharp cheekbones and met his eyes. “No. I’ve got you. You can’t get away.”
For a moment, there was indecision. Then Spock’s eyes danced as his expression softened. “Very well, Jim,” he said, and Jim’s towel went flying across the room.
* * *
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> fin. |
6b2bb6ef3fa346b29e8677c0121b60ab | ['5914bb85fda64905980a434f81132faf'] |
Bob
The post-Sherrinford to-do list was short. Explain the situation to Molly. Ring Mummy and Daddy. Reach out to Eurus. Clean up the flat. The first seemed the easiest, yet Sherlock put if off, anxiously imagining her reaction. He had flashbacks to the night he returned to London from Serbia and remembered how badly his humorous approach was received by John. Apart from that, he had a feeling that for Molly the humiliation of the forced love confession was the last straw. She had been his friend for so many years and he couldn't imagine a life without her.
Before he gathered up the courage to apologise properly, Molly texted him, asking if he was busy. He wasn't. Ten minutes later, he heard her footsteps and someone else's. Four paws. He curiously opened the door and saw Molly, fortunately not in a sour mood, and a dog. A small, frightened mongrel, ginger and white. The animal avoided his eyes and stayed close to Molly's leg.
'Can we come in?'
He had no idea. Did Mrs Hudson allow pets? Did it matter? He opened the door wider and both guests walked in. Molly let the dog hide behind her legs and didn't try to move away from him. Sherlock couldn't decide if he wanted to deliver his rehearsed apology or ask about the dog. Molly spoke first.
'This is Bob. His owner passed away and he's looking for a new home. I thought of you. John said you have always wanted a dog and actually never had one. Also, now you probably need a good friend .'
Sherlock was lost for words. She knew him so well. He did need company, all the people he had lost left a void. The distressing memories came flooding back after the confrontation with Eurus and Sherlock had never felt more vulnerable and alone. John did not understand and dismissed the idea of moving back in. A dog could help him deal with the loss of the childhood friend and the family drama. He was aware of the countless benefits of having a pet, yet somehow never considered adopting a dog.
'I... Is he all right?'
'Healthy, yes. The previous owner didn't treat him well, though. He'll need extra patience and love. He's a bit awkward, but I'm sure he can be a wonderful companion if you give him time. He has lots of love to give, he just needs time to open up.'
Sherlock was most puzzled by her trust. The dog needed someone reliable and well, normal. Sherlock would most likely unintentionally damage him even more. Pushing away the bitter thought that he was bound to ruin every relationship in his life had been hard lately. Dragging an innocent dog into the mess that was his life seemed cruel.
'Are you sure I'm the right person?'
Molly smiled warmly. 'Yes.'
Sherlock wanted to argue, but then the dog glanced at him from behind her left calf. Sherlock bent down and said hi, in the same tone he used when talking to Rosie. Bob looked at him for a couple of seconds. Sherlock suddenly realised he was practically leaning against Molly's knee.
'See? He's a good boy,' Molly said cheerily and gave Sherlock the leash. 'This is your new owner, Bob.'
Sherlock was glad Molly could stay for the rest of the evening. Bob clearly felt moe comfortable with her around. He was hungry, yet hesitated when Sherlock gave him food. He only ate it when they left him alone in the kitchen. Molly took the opportunity to remind Sherlock that Bob would not appreciate loud noises and sudden movements.
'Now I'm even more concerned. I will break him, won't I?
'You're exactly what he needs. You're a good person, Sherlock.'
Bob was definitely scarred by the previous owner. He expected Sherlock to punish him for everything, from wagging his tail to barking. Sherlock felt more confident when Molly encouraged him to text her whenever he was out of his depth. During the first week, it was a common occurrence. Bob had a tendency for hiding behind Sherlock's chair and chewing on his slippers, then feeling guilty about it.
'It's all right, Bob,' Sherlock assured him, although he liked that particular pair of slippers. 'Want a biscuit?'
Mrs Hudson was initially outraged by the idea of a filthy dog in her house. She changed her mind oddly quickly and formed a lasting friendship with Bob. He liked her as well. Rosie was another of his biggest fans. Her enthusiasm and clammy hands alarmed Bob at first. Rosie, however, did not remind him of the man who hurt him and he accepted her affectionate hugs and seemed almost ready to start playing with her without the fear of scolding. John agreed with Molly and instructed Sherlock how to properly treat a dog like Bob. Mycroft couldn't be any more surprised. Sherlock explained that it was Molly's idea and Mycroft nodded thoughtfully.
Focusing on Bob's recovery had a startling effect on Sherlock. He stopped having nightmares about boys trapped in wells and didn't spend every free moment on wondering if he could have prevented Eurus' murders. The loss of Mary was also easier to bear. Rosie would never meet her, but she had others in her life, including Bob. The new daily routine, feeding Bob and walking him and cleaning after him, was quite enjoyable, to Sherlock's surprise. He never thought he needed this sort of structure and predictability in his life.
Bob was feeling better. He would express his joy whenever Sherlock came home or spoke to him. He was getting used to the presence of clients. Most often, he would hide in the kitchen when Sherlock was working and stopped panicking when an unfamiliar man would come into the sitting room. He learnt the difference between gentle petting and smacks and didn't brace himself for a beating when Sherlock's hand touched his head.
It became obvious that Bob was the new tobacco ash. Sherlock had so much to tell about his dog, all of his observations and Bob's progress and which of the dog stereotypes were true. John had enough of it, Rosie's attention span was still too short for a lecture and Mycroft made it clear he didn't want to have anything to do with the dog. Sherlock didn't mind, he had one more person in his life, someone who always listened.
He started taking Bob for a walk to Bart's when Molly was about to finish her shift and he and Bob would walk her home. Bob loved those walks, he would wag his tail non-stop. They never set a fast pace and Sherlock had plenty of time to tell Molly all about Bob's food preferences. Molly always listened without the slightest sign of impatience or boredom.
After six months, Bob forgot about the old life and allowed himself to enjoy the new one. Sherlock thought he was above ostentatious displays of emotions, but he loved coming back home and being greeted by Bob. Sure, his fur was all over Belstaff and Sherlock had an occasional mini-heart attack when he saw a white hair in his curls. But such small inconveniences were meaningless. Bob gave him so much, a true friendship and loyalty.
One day Molly and Sherlock were petting Bob and their hands met. For an agonisingly long moment, Sherlock was mortified beyond belief. Molly, though, was calm and carried on stroking Bob's head. Sherlock realised Bob was not the only one frightened of affection and physical contact. The brief touch of Molly's hand didn't feel scary or wrong. Her reaction stopped his panic. It was all fine, he understood, he could relax and let her stroke him too.
Soon Sherlock and Bob not only walk Molly home. They stayed there.
**Author's Note:**
> Written by a cat person and a non-Sherlollian for reasons. | 64d6858059184a3aa7065cfe556f93cd | ['5914bb85fda64905980a434f81132faf'] | Sherlock Jr
Sherlock couldn't believe what was happening. Despite all of the possible complications and his worst fears, the baby arrived safely. A perfect score of ten Apgar, ten fingers, ten toes. Breathing on his own, opening his eyes, moving his tiny hands in search of Molly. To Sherlock's surprise, the boy didn't have a sign on his forehead saying 'my father used drugs.' His heart rate was normal, he weighed a healthy seven pounds and already used two nappies.
Molly and the baby were still in hospital. Visitors could wait. The first day of baby Holmes' life was too precious to share it with others. Molly only could bear the thought of letting Sherlock hold the baby. Everyone else, including his parents, would certainly drop the child or sneeze in his face.
Sherlock cradled his son in his arms and just watched him in joyful amazement. 'This is incredible. Well done, Molly.'
'I had a bit of help,' she smiled tiredly, gazing at the baby, just as astonished by his utter perfection as Sherlock.
The baby yawned and touched his face. Eyes closed, a little grimace from time to time, first quiet sounds. And something that could be interpreted as the first smile, against logic.
'Are you sure this is our child? He seems completely fine. I've expected the worst.'
'Yes, I'm sure,' Molly sighed. It was only the third time she was asked that question.
'Sherlock Jr,' Sherlock announced proudly, hoping Molly would finally accept his absolutely brilliant name suggestion.
'No. Also, the following names are unusable: William, Gavin, Mort, Richard and James.'
Sherlock wanted to negotiate, but the events of the previous night convinced him not to insist on names that Molly didn't like.
'Would you like to name him after your father?'
A sad smile on Molly's face was enough to know the answer.
'How about Michael? We could call him Mick or Mickey. Mycroft would be furious. He secretly loves his silly nicknames.'
'No.'
'John?'
'Listen, it doesn't have to a traditional name. Place names and word names are popular these days. We could name him after something that has a great significance to us...' Molly trailed off and the both of them fell silent. They had the same idea and even before they said it out loud, they knew it was _the_ name.
'Bartholomew,' they whispered simultaneously. Sherlock already pictured bringing the baby to Bart's so Molly could nurse him and people asking about the baby's name. Oh, it was perfect.
'Oh, my God,' Molly started laughing. 'I carried this child for nine months only to name him Bartholomew.'
'Let's discuss the middle name now. Hamish?' |
18f9e8e7035f44eca120aee0d9cab470 | ['592393f301b84f6d89107909e944aa22'] |
These Moments With You I Cherish
**Author's Note:**
> I haven’t written fic in a while but after watching Gotham and becoming a hard shipper of nygmobblepot, I wanted to contribute something to the ship so I decided to write something. It’s unbeta’ed, so I apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes & oocness. Constructive criticism is welcomed.
> I do not own these characters.
It was still dark when Oswald woke up entangled in bed sheets and long arms. He shifted around quite roughly at first, his mind still groggy from exhaustion; until he turned to face the person who was attached to the arms holding him. Once he recognized the face of his sleeping boyfriend, Edward Nygma, Oswald stopped moving around so much so as not to wake the other man up. Luckily Edward continued to sleep on and Oswald gave a quiet sigh of relief, knowing Edward had been working rather hard over the past few days and really needed the rest no matter how much he might have said otherwise.
As Oswald lay there, he began to think back to the first time he'd met Edward. If someone had told him back then he was going to end up getting involved with the other man, Oswald wouldn't have believed it. Staring up at the ceiling, Oswald remembered his and Edward's first meeting as if it had happened yesterday, the memories flickering through his mind rapidly. At the time he’d been looking for Jim and had spared no patience for anyone else. But Edward had followed him around the GCPD, approached him, talked to him , all without being intimidated by him--which wasn't difficult, Oswald had been forced to admit to himself. He was not a physically intimidating person. But because of his connections to the mob, people generally tended to steer clear of Oswald. But Edward hadn't. And while Oswald had initially been annoyed by the man, that alone had intrigued him slightly, even as he brushed Edward off in a very rude manner.
They hadn’t had too many experiences with each other for a while after that, since Gotham eventually erupted into a gang war and that along with the deterioration of his friendship with Jim Gordon had kept him busy for quite a while. But eventually things in Gotham had calmed down and he’d met Edward Nygma again, and several times after that. Their first encounters were pretty awkward, but eventually Edward and Oswald grew comfortable around each other after finding some common ground; gradually becoming friends. The friendship that Oswald had wanted with Jim he had gotten with Edward. Edward was always there to support him, to listen to him, even taking care of him if he thought Oswald needed it; and in return Oswald did the same for Edward. It was perfect.
And then they began developing feelings for each other.
That had been one of the scariest moments of Oswald’s life. He could handle being shot at, threatened or even being beaten up, but his experiences in the romantic department were sadly lacking; and Edward didn’t have any more experience then Oswald, so it had been a rather awkward situation for the both of them at first. Oswald had wanted to act on his feelings but held back at first because he didn’t want to be rejected and lose his only close friend.
Edward had left a couple of riddles about his own feelings towards Oswald, but Oswald had trouble figuring them out and for a while things between them got a bit weird. Eventually though Oswald worked up the courage to tell Edward how he felt, and he was first shocked and then thrilled when he found out that Edward felt the same way.
It had been almost a year now since they’d gotten together and Oswald couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever felt so content in his life.
*~*~*~*~*~*~
The shifting next to him brought Oswald back to the present and he observed the sun slowly beginning to rise into the sky for several moments before he turned his gaze to Edward, grinning when he noticed sleepy eyes peering up at him. “Morning,” Oswald said quietly as he sat up a little. Edward yawned and mumbled out a good morning back as he began to sit up as well. “How’d you sleep?” Oswald questioned. If Edward needed more time to sleep, Oswald could try to arrange something to get him a day off of work.
Edward ran a hand through his hair, brushing it away from his face as he settled himself back against the bed. “I slept well,” He replied with a smile at Oswald. “How about you? How’s your leg this morning?"
"It aches, but I’ve gotten used to that by now,” Oswald told him as he began to detach himself from his boyfriend and get up from the bed. “Are you hungry?” Oswald asked a moment later as he turned to Edward. Edward nodded as he began to get up from the bed. “Would you like to eat out or in?” If Edward wanted to eat in, that meant he’d have to cook. The last time Oswald had tried to cook for Edward had resulted in one hell of a messy kitchen and lots and lots of smoke, complete with fire alarm going off.
Edward gave Oswald’s question some thought for a minute or two before settling on his answer. “In,” he replied as he walked around the bed, stopping by Oswald’s side and giving him a quick peck on the lips, pulling back slightly before Oswald latched onto him, pulling Edward in and kissing him once more; this time a little less innocently then their previous kiss.
When they pulled away again, a grin crossed Edward’s face and Oswald knew what was coming before he asked:
“What goes up and down but doesn’t move?" | 9e6f59ef2d9643d1bbfdcc10521dae89 | ['592393f301b84f6d89107909e944aa22'] | Ed liked to deviate between easy and hard riddles for Oswald to see if he could figure them out, especially since Oswald had figured a couple of his riddles out before. This riddle wasn’t that hard, in Ed’s mind, but he liked to start off simple in the morning.
Oswald thought hard about the answer for several long minutes, glancing around the room as if that would help him come up with an answer. Knowing it could be a while before Oswald figured out the answer, Edward decided to leave him to his thoughts and go start preparing breakfast.
Oswald frowned slightly as he thought hard about the answer. He wasn’t as fond of riddles as Edward was, his talents lay elsewhere–but he certainly found the challenge of trying to solve Edward’s riddles amusing at times and on occasion he’d try to solve one or two of them. As he began to pull on his clothes, Oswald continued to rack his brain for answers, trying to think of the answer to Edward’s riddle.
*~*~*~*~*~*~
"So did you figure it out?” Edward asked as he and Oswald sat down for breakfast. Oswald took a few bites of food, concentrating rather hard as he shook his head, continuing to think of the riddle. There was a long pause between them before Edward broke it. “Do you want a hint?” He was a little surprised that Oswald hadn't gotten the answer by now. He thought this riddle would have been one of the easier ones for Oswald to figure out.
Oswald shook his head. He was going to solve this riddle on his own. “I don’t know what it is–” he began to say. When it looked liked Edward was going to interrupt, he held up a hand. “Right now. But later it may come to me. I’ll let you know if it does, alright?” Edward looked a little disappointed, but he reminded himself that Oswald didn’t have the same affinity for riddles that he did. So if Oswald wanted more time, Edward would give it to him.
After breakfast was done Oswald helped to clean up, despite how badly his leg was making it for him. Edward of course noticed the fact that Oswald’s leg caused him pain, but he knew there really wasn’t much of anything he could do about it, though he wished there was. He could have insisted on cleaning up by himself, but Oswald was quite a stubborn man and helping to clean up was his way of saying thank you for the food Edward made him.
*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Well I need to check in on Mother before I go to work,” Oswald told Edward after they’d finished cleaning up. “So I should get going.” Edward nodded, understanding how important Gertrude was to Oswald. “Do you want some leftovers to take to her? She probably hasn’t eaten yet,” Edward offered, holding out some of the wrapped up leftovers. Oswald smiled at Edward’s generosity and took the leftovers before giving Ed a quick kiss. “Would you like to meet up at the club tonight after work?"
"Sure,” Edward nodded as Oswald began to gather up his belongings. “Alright then. I’ll make sure to let the boys know you’re coming so you won’t have to wait in line,” Oswald said over his shoulder as he hobbled towards the door. “Sounds great!” Edward replied enthusiastically, already envisioning his and Oswald’s evening at the club. “See you tonight then.” Oswald opened up the door, pausing when he was halfway out to meet Edward’s gaze.
“Yes. See you tonight Edward.” |
1a3f802e3bd24f37be930dfc783261bb | ['5925e6c580f044ecb6d1f2a669aedc80'] | Aaron watched as she walked over to his side. He loved the way she walked. She reminded him of a cheetah or a lion or some other big cat. Her walk was graceful, but powerful. And when he watched her walking from behind, he could see her shoulders move along with her beautiful behind. That's all he tried to think about.
"Haley and Jack are safe. They're on their way here now."
"Good."
"Emily..?"
"Yeah?"
"You were at my place."
"Yes."
"Did you see how he got in?"
"Probably a window, but I'm not sure." She moved back to his side. She knew he probably wouldn't but she'd ask anyways, "Do you want to talk about what happened?"
He looked down and to the right, which is normally a sign of deceit, but she didn't say anything. "After he stabbed me the first time, it all goes blank...." Then he looked up which made Emily do the same, Haley was waiting outside the door.
"I'll just be out here." She said softly, then slipped out.
Emily gave Haley a small smile as they passed, which Haley reciprocated, as Aaron looked down, ashamed of what he caused for his family.
"Who was that?"
"A colleague."
"She looks a bit young."
"... She's sort of a genius."
"Like Dr. Reid?"
"Sort of."
There was a small awkward pause before Haley asked how he was feeling.
"I'm going to be ok." He said, then looked her in the eye, "Did they explain to you what's happening?"
Haley nodded, "They said the Marshall service is taking us straight from here and putting us into protective custody."
"I am sorry."
Haley looked like she was on the brink of tears. "Do you know where they're going to take us?"
"No, I don't. And that's the point. I can't know where you're going. If you have any contact with anyone, then he could track you."
"Jack has school, he has friends. I have a job now."
"I know." He said, "And I'm sorry." The hurt in his voice was evident, but then he sounded more confident, "We will catch him. And then you'll come back. And I promise I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you."
Haley just look at him for a minute, "Are you sure that we're in danger?"
"Yes."
"What about you? Are you going to be safe?" Haley held back tears.
"He wants to see me suffer." Aaron said, "Knowing that my son is out there, and I can't see him... Is better than killing me."
"What am I supposed to say to Jack?"
"Tell him it's a vacation, and that it's not going to be for very long."
"How am I supposed to keep him safe, if there's no one I know to help me?"
"Haley, you're strong." He said, "You lived with me and this job, you've practically raised Jack all by yourself. You're a great mother."
By this point, Haley was crying, she sniffled twice and sighed. "Can you catch this man?" She asked, more matter-of-factly.
"I will catch this man."
"Jack wants to come in."
"I want to see him too, I jus don't think that it's a good idea."
"I know you're lying to protect him, but you both need this." Haley said, "Please."
"Ok..." He said softly, and nodded.
Haley sniffed one last time before wiping her tears, and turning around and going down the hall to get their son. She had to be strong for Jack.
Aaron sat up, and grunted as he did so.
Haley returned with the small boy holding her hand.
"Hey buddy," Hotch said, "Come on in."
"Alright," Haley said, and grunted as she lifted the boy onto his father's hospital bed.
"Don't worry," Hotch said as he saw his small son looking at all his bandages. "It's ok. The doctors made sure I'm completely fine... Did Mommy tell you that you to are going to take a trip?"
"Yeah..." Jack said, sounding sad.
"So I'm not going to see you for a while."
"Why?"
"Think about it, like, when Daddy goes away for work, only this time, you and Mommy get to go someplace. And what do I always tell you before I go away?"
"You love me."
"More than anything in the world."
"Are you ok?"
Hotch didn't answer him, instead, "I'm very proud of you. Every single day." And he sighed, before kissing his young son on the forehead. "I want you to meet my friend. Ok, Jack? She's going to help protect me." Aaron looked up, and called for Special Agent Brooks, who was quietly talking with Morgan as Aaron was talking with Jack and Haley.
Emily drifted into the room, "Yeah, Hotch?" She knew they had to be careful with who they let see any public displays of affection.
"Jack, I want you to meet Special Agent, and Doctor, Emily Brooks." Emily hated, and she was pretty sure Hotch hated it too, that this had to be her introduction to his son. She was a bit flabbergasted that it was even happening, but she went with it, glad he hadn't introduced her as a "special friend".
"Hi Jack." She moved to give Jack a tiny handshake.
"Hi.. Are you going to take care of Daddy? Are you going to make him feel better?"
Emily nodded, and a sad smile crossed her lips, "Yes. I'm going to protect him with my life. But I'm actually a different kind of doctor."
"Jack," Aaron said, "And you have to take care of Mommy, ok?"
"Ok..."
"See you soon, buddy."
4. Stalker
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> When an unusual flower delivery turns into something more sinister, Emily's past is revealed.
>
> "The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown." - H. P. Lovecraft | 9ce5f5371bf942c994a94626478e1e7a | ['5925e6c580f044ecb6d1f2a669aedc80'] | "Aaron!" She was gasping, so excited and so close. "Aaron, I'm gonna....!" He kept moving as he was for another few minutes before she was screaming his name, her body tightening around him.
He let out a sharp moan, and started moving faster, before pressing his body on top of hers, and kissing her again.
Hotch loved making love to her. He loved watching her move, and feeling her body. He loved hearing her scream his name. He regretted ever making her think he didn't care. "I love you." It was barely a whisper, it was the first time he had said it to her, and he meant it, but she didn't hear it, she was too preoccupied with his movements.
"Hotch!"
He sped up, again, and could feel himself getting close. He leaned up so he could angle himself deeper, and she grabbed his bicep. "Hotch!"
"You.... alright?" He panted.
"I'm gonna climax...!" Again? That was new for them.
And she did, with Hotch finishing soon afterwords, and collapsing next to her.
Hotch pulled her close and softly kissed her lips. "I love you." He repeated.
Her eyes went wide, and she grinned, "I love you more." She murmured back, and pressed a kiss to his lips.
"I also wanted to tell you, before anyone else..." He said softly.
"Hmm?"
"I'm stepping down as unit chief."
She pulled away from him, "Are you kidding?"
"Morgan will be taking over. "
"Why?"
"Strauss thinks I'm getting too reckless. She told me she was going to replace me, unless I promoted from within."
"She what? I told her to backoff and-"
"_You_ did what?" His brow furrowed, he frowned and his relaxation drifted away.
"She was threatening us. Threatening you, so I-"
"You were in the wrong."
"Hotch, she's trying to destroy you. Destroy _us_... You're dealing with a lot; you don't need her on top of Foyet."
"And now I can focus on Foyet. But that doesn't excuse what you did."
"I wasn't an agent. And she was drunk."
"It's _still_ no excuse."
She was quiet for a while, but then said, "What do you want from me? I did it for us."
"And a small part of me is flattered. But it's insubordination."
"And I'd do it again."
6. Reaper Pt. II
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The Reaper, George Foyet, makes his second appearance when Haley Hotchner is killed.
>
> Takes place during episode 100.
>
> "A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is brave five minutes longer." - Ralph Waldo Emerson
Something was wrong. Emily Brooks, as Aaron Hotchner knew, was always one of the first in to work every morning, and because of their secret relationship, one of the last out of the office, lately, alongside himself.
She hadn't called in and she hadn't made any note of going anywhere. Originally he had worried about her mental health. He knew she was truly starting to deal with everything. And with everything he had pieced together about her past... He knew he should have gone over to check on her, but with someone, who turned out to be a woman, killing families, how could he? She had repeatedly told him not to treat her like a child, to let her deal with her own problems. Even though the father in him hated that.
When he got the letter from the Reaper, George Foyet, his heart stopped. He immediately knew it was bad. His ex-wife, his son, and now he realized his girlfriend, were all in danger.
"He's torturing him! It's great to see you squirm, agent Hotchner!"
"She's missing. She has to be."
"Who?" Prentiss asked, as Hotch moved briskly out of the facility.
"Emily. It's the reason she didn't show up for work."
"You think the Reaper has her?"
"It's the only scenario that makes sense." His head was spinning. "She wouldn't change her routine without something major happening. Her therapist said she shouldn't."
Prentiss didn't press the fact he knew what her therapist was telling her, or the fact he knew she had one.
"What's our next move?"
"Already on it." He said, pulling out his cellphone, "I need a full forensic team to 314 Wakeman street, apartment 19."
* * *
When Hotch arrived at the small apartment, to which he'd snuck to several times in the past few weeks, his felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. It was a mess. There was obvious signs of a struggle, and of forced entry.
"We found traces of blood, chloroform, and a bullet fragment." Said one of the techs.
"He shot her." Hotch's heart dropped.
"Or she shot him." Prentiss said, hopefully.
"We'll run the blood and see who's it is." The tech said.
"And he use chloroform to render her unconscious. She has no way to fight him... Even if she was shot, she would have at least been able to fightback somewhat."
"Hotch, don't lose hope. She's strong, she'll get through this."
"This is the Reaper we're talking about. Over 30 victims, and he's got a grudge against me."
Prentiss had never seen him this emotional, or this pessimistic. "We'll find her."
"We need to go find Sam Kassmeyer. He's the marshal handling Jack and Hailey's case."
* * *
Upon arriving at the Kassmeyer residence, the door was left wide open. Hotch just knew the Reaper had been there.
He had a feeling that the Reaper knew where Jack and Hailey were.
When they rushed in, they quickly cleared the house, and found the marshal near death on the floor.
"Sam?" Hotch knelt by his side.
"We need an ambulance. Federal Officer down."
"I wouldn't...I wouldn't..."
"We're getting an ambulance."
"I tried."
"Hang on. Just hang on. "
"I'm sorry."
"What are you sorry for?"
"I... I tried."
"Are Jack and Hailey safe?" Sam just wheezed in response. "Sam, tell me what happened."
"I don't know how he got in." |
0df8b629e9dc4d578de1fb203961f51f | ['5942d4952a954465aad525097277f4d7'] | **Author's Note:**
> Uh oh more angst whoopsie-daisies. This was for Phandom Little Pop on Tumblr but I didn't have ao3 then so here we go. I posted this over the summer so it's not too old. I promise there will be a fluff fic up soon! Enjoy :)
**October 19, 2009**
There he was: a lanky, five-foot-ten, chocolate-haired teenage boy, weaving in and out through the density of a crowded train station. Ocean eyes met caramel for the first time outside of a Skype call, and their bodies collided in a big hug. The two boys held on tight, savouring each second spent in their embrace.
Dan pulled away first, but held on to Phil's arms like his life depended on it.
"You're real," he whispered. "We're gonna grow old together."
With a chuckle, Phil pulled Dan in for another hug. "What makes you say that?"
"The dates, silly," Dan smiled. "Your's are March fifteenth, 2075."
"Oh, yeah, I die pretty old, don't I? What about... " Phil trailed off. There weren't shimmering numbers above Dan's head. Had they already faded? Impossible. They don't fade until the other sees them in real life or at least mentions them.
Dan's smile faltered. "Oh. I've never known my dates. I don't know why. Birth defect maybe? I guess this never came up in conversation before since you can't see them through a computer screen."
Their hands clasped together.
"I bet we'll both grow old together anyways," Phil said, and they walked off.
**November 8, 2016**
"I miss it," Dan said. The two men, now with over (subscriber count) subscribers, a joint gaming channel, a radio show, a book tour, and a six-year-long relationship, were sitting on their couch, both editing videos.
Phil could tell something was wrong. "Miss what?"
"You know," Dan set his laptop to the side and rested his head in his hands. "Being carefree, not worrying about anyone finding out about us."
With a sigh, Phil scooted closer to Dan in an attempt to comfort him. He knew that this would end up in a fight, but they had to talk it out. "This again? Bear, I don't care what other people think. I just love being with you. If you want to tell the fans, I'm all for it."
"Phil, no, I just — ever since then..." Dan rubbed his eyes and shuffled away from Phil's touch, much to Phil's dismay.
"Ever since when?"
"2012!" Dan suddenly yelled.
Phil froze.
He stood up and faced Phil. Phil's eyes were cast to the ground. He was seething. "Dammit Phil, ever since 2012 something was off. I mean, I love you, but you seemed so hard to love after — "
"Me?" Phil whispered. "I was hard to love, Dan? After what you did to me?" His voice was quiet, but full of hurt and anger.
“Yes, Phil, you were difficult. So fucking difficult, and you have nothing to back yourself up with!” Dan snorted in retaliation. “You and your fucking smile and never-ending positivity; you didn't know anything was wrong! You were completely oblivious to everything.”
Hands clenched, Phil sat in silence. He had nothing to say.
“Say something, Phil.”
Phil said nothing. Dan had no idea at all. He took it all because there were no words to describe his feelings.
“Phil, I swear to god, you always do this. This is why nothing ever gets resolved. You just shut down. _Say something_.”
More silence.
Dan grabbed a vase and threw it to the floor, making Phil flinch. Shards of glass flew in every direction.
“SAY SOMETHING GODDAMMIT,” Dan screeched, face beet red. “Stop accepting this and fight back! You always just sit there and you don't —”
“I avoid conflict with people like you,” Phil bit back. The coldness in his voice shocked Dan.
Dan's face went from anger to nothing. His voice was hoarse from screaming when he spoke.
“Fine. I'll leave.”
Dan stormed out of the living room and slammed the door, but not before Phil saw the numbers above his head.
_Date: November 8, 2016_
“Oh my god,” Phil whispered.
***
Phil sobbed into his phone, his other hand clenched tight to his chest.
_Hi, you’ve reached Dan Howell, sorry I’m not here to take your call! Call me back!_
That was the third time Phil had called Dan with no response. Phil turned his phone off and sniffed. Dan was gone, and he was going to die. They couldn't leave each other on such a bad note.
Phil found himself on a bench in their neighbourhood park, with nowhere to go, and no one to help him. He was alone, and there was little to no chance of getting Dan back. Even if he did, he would die right then and there.
A loud siren erupted his thoughts, and he looked up to see an ambulance flying down the cold streets of London. Phil's heart dropped into this stomach.
“No, no, no, no,” a mumbling Phil sprinted into the city, pushing and shoving at people. He found the ambulance at a bridge.
“No,” Phil shook his head in disbelief. Everything was a nightmare, and Phil was at the very center. Blurred voices and shaky images passed him by as he ran to the scene.
“Please, he’s my boyfriend!” he screamed as an officer stopped him from crossing the line. “He’s mine!”
Hands held the struggling man back, but there was a glimpse: a limp body, broken, fragile, and dripping wet. And it hit Phil. He crumpled to the cold and wet pavement. It hit him so hard. Dan was gone, and it was _his_ fault. It was _Phil’s_ fault that Dan was dead, and that was that.
**Author's Note:**
> Soz,,, | 7bc7165090d8432cb98034b9bdc927e3 | ['5942d4952a954465aad525097277f4d7'] | Dan’s jaw went slack when his eyes fell on Phil’s room through the tiny slit of glass on the door. It looked like a jungle. Quite literally. They seemed to have the same idea as Dan had with his students. There was dark green decorating paper lining the walls, and light green plastic tablecloths covered the lights, much like Dan’s classroom. Up to three desks were piled on top of each other in multiple areas of the room, draped in crumpled dark green and brown fabric to imitate trees. Actual plants were balanced everywhere; curse Phil for being a science teacher.
Dan was shocked at the work Phil put into his room; however, he, no matter how nervous, still had an inkling that their room would win. Who could argue against a bloody _ space aquarium _ ?
“ _ Jacob was right. You're getting your ass beat _ ,” a voice muttered in Dan's ear. A shiver ran down his spine, but he managed to keep from twitching violently. He would know that voice anywhere. _ Phil Lester _ . Dan took a hopefully-subtle deep breath before turning to face the slightly-shorter man. Phil's eyes twinkled and his mouth was curved into a smirk in a way that made Dan want to drop kick him into the sun.
“What do _ you _ want?” Dan hissed under his voice, seething on the inside but maintaining his calm exterior. At least, he hoped he was. It was kind of hard when his arch-nemesis was all up in his face, trying (and kind of succeeding, but no one needed to know that) to be intimidating.
Phil laughed dryly. “What do _ I _ want? Can you really be asking that when you're standing outside my classroom? You spying or something? I wouldn't be surprised, seeing that you've done it before.”
The hallway’s temperature rose about ten degrees. If Margo was behind this, Dan was going to fucking _ expel _ her. As much as Dan wanted to snap back at Phil with accusations of being so goddamn annoying, he found himself at a loss for words. So he just stood there, mouth opening and closing like an _ idiot _ in a pathetic attempt to gather his thoughts into words. But for some reason, his normally-amazing comebacks didn't work.
“Don't think I didn't notice you looking into my classroom on the first day of school,” Phil smirked and continued. “I don't mind. I'm actually _ flattered _ that you think my room is obviously better than yours.”
“ _ Your _ room?!” Dan finally spat out. He knew that this conversation was going nowhere, but the rush of anger and frustration was bubbling over. “You're ridiculous, that's what you are. Your room isn't _ shit _ compared to mine. I---”
Phil laughed, and Dan wanted nothing more than to have him fired. “Have fun winning last place, Daniel.”
He turned briskly to walk away. He was about to turn a corner when he turned back around to face the gaping younger teacher. “Oh, and next time you want to spy on my room, try not to do it when I have class.”
“Holy _ shit _ ,” a student whispered.
Dan whipped his head around so fast his neck cracked. “ _ Detention _ ,” he hissed with malice, and turned back around to stalk down the hallway filled with hushed voices and pointing fingers.
~
Phil made a decision after he found Dan snooping around his classroom: he would beat him no matter what. In all reality, he had actually looked at Dan’s classroom as well without the other man knowing. He wouldn’t admit it, obviously, but he really wanted to know after Dan stormed down the crowded hallways. Phi had been a bit worried that he had gone to far, but he remembered the age-old saying, “Fight fire with fire.” Of course, he was a bit taken-aback by how good Dan’s classroom was, but that didn’t stop him from feeling confident that him and his class would win the supposedly-infamous Classroom Decorating Competition.
Phil paced nervously, trying not to rip any paper, as Mrs. Shelley inspected his room carefully. Why did this make him so nervous? It was a silly high school competition to fuel homecoming; it wasn't supposed to take Phil back to what he had felt when he was awaiting his acceptance letter into college. Maybe it was something external. Maybe it was Dan. Phil remembered the sinking feeling in his gut when he had gone out to spy on Dan’s room. It was definitely Dan.
“Results will be posted tomorrow,” Mrs. Shelley chirped happily, snapping Phil back from his thoughts. “Great room, darling!” Everyone in the room breathed a sigh of relief when she left.
“Oh my god, I totally thought she was going to knock down that tree,” exclaimed a student dramatically, flailing their arms. “She was breathing so hard on it.”
Phil cackled loudly. “Now that you say it, she _ was _ breathing super hard. Hope she's okay.”
The class laughed collectively at Phil's feigned concern.
“Alright guys,” Phil clapped his hands to get the class’s attention. “We need to actually get learning. Let’s just hope my bunsen burner doesn’t burn down our trees.”
The room was stifled; a sense of uncertainty lingered in every corner, every nook, and every crannie. It was suffocating as long, delicate fingers gripped a small slip of paper. Everyone’s breath suspended midair, anticipating the long-awaited results of the 2017 Classroom Decorating Competition.
“The winner is…” Mrs. Shelley dragged out the last word, milking the reactions of the assembly of almost-crazed students and teachers.
“Mr. Dan Howell and his homeroom class!”
Silence.
And then cheers erupted from all around the auditorium, loud screams and shouts bouncing off the walls.
Phil’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He was so sure… |
7b7db0eff41d479a99a9ed1ee5b65917 | ['5944db27ab254fd9b16357f9f8674cb8'] | “Just one thing and then I’ll let you be: If you’re in danger or if you feel like you could be then call me, please. I don’t want to have to visit you in hospital or wake up to you being a name in the newspaper. Please. Call me if you need help. I know you won’t do it for regular things, and I’ve accepted this but if you’re ever caught up in something you feel like you can’t get out then tell me. And I can be there for you or get help or just make you hot chocolate.” He kissed Jungkook quickly onto his head and then went back to get changed before his next number would start. Tae took a glass and filled it with lemon, lime, a mint leave, some ice - and then filled it with water. “There, that’s all you get from me tonight. You won’t lose your headache with more booze. Also, heartache and drinks aren’t a great combination. If you want to make things worse. So be good and drink water and then go back to sleep. There’s no delivery for tonight. So, you can rest.”
“Yoongi wouldn’t hurt me like that,” Jungkook almost hissed at Jimin but the other was already gone. He was feeling annoyed and just wanted to close up completely. He took the drink Taehyung had made and downed it in one go even though it was only water. His brows furrowed deeply, as he listened to Taehyung. “Yeah, I guess,” He got up and looked at his friend with a tired expression. “I just wish I knew what Yoongi really felt,” Jungkook whispered, “It probably won’t change anything. I’m staying here for too long anyways already.” He shrugged his shoulders, not waiting for an answer as he turned around and did what Taehyung had ordered him to do: sleep.
Not thinking about something when you knew you shouldn’t think about it was absolutely impossible. Just like that game where you told someone _‘don’t think about an albino llama’_. Yoongi had tried to do that with himself and Jungkook but he knew that it didn’t work. The only thing that have given him some piece of mind was when he decided to come to the club at night. Until then he could stop thinking if Jungkook being gone in the morning meant that he was gone from his life too - or just his usual ‘I don’t do mornings’ kind of thing.
He actually managed to be vaguely productive and catch up on ‘adult’ stuff, make boring phone calls and pay bills and all that stuff you had to do when you didn’t want to be bothered by people more than they already were bothering you. He waited exactly till it got dark before he grabbed his jacket feeling somewhat proud that he had stuck to his decision. He would sit down at the bar, no matter if Jungkook was around or not and then let the other decide if he wanted to talk or not (and hope that it’ll be soon or else it would put an unhealthy kind of strain on his heart)
Jimin had spotted Yoongi right away when the rapper came into the club. He had come up with what he was about to do about half an hour ago, talking to Taehyung and seeing Jungkook sleeping on the couch so peacefully in the storage room. He couldn’t let him get hurt no more. It had pained him enough already to see Jungkook be so confused about Yoongi’s intentions. So, there was only one way to find out.
With a determined mind and a smile on his face he walked up to him at the bar, where he had ordered himself a drink just now. “Hey! You’re Yoongi, right?” Jimin asked, sitting down next to him and ordering a bottle of water from the barkeeper. “I see you around our little baby boy a lot.” He chuckled, cheering his bottle towards him with a wink.
Yoongi cocked his head. ‘Baby boy’? Either Jimin was very, very affection towards his friends - or he was hooking up with Jungkook as well. There was something bitter in his throat and he swallowed it down with his drink. “Yes, why?” He answered cautiously. He hadn’t seen Jungkook around and he wasn’t sure if the younger was even there and he absolutely did not want to think about where he could be if he wasn’t here considering he still didn’t know if Jungkook even had a home, so any kind of distraction was very welcome right now.
“Just curious,” Jimin shrugged his shoulders, “I just saw you guys together a lot lately…I mean, I caught you two once or twice. But who am I to judge?” He chuckled, reaching out for the other, “I never really introduced myself. I’m Jimin. You’ve probably already guessed so, but I am a dancer here.” Jimin winked at him, turning his body a little more towards him. “You looking for him?”
Yoongi just nodded as a sign that he had listened, shaking his hand once before letting go. “Not really, no.” What else was he supposed to answer? If he said yes then Jimin might ask why - or even worse get Jungkook for him while he had wanted to leave it open to the other if he wanted to talk. Or…come home with him. Yoongi swallowed hard. It had become routine already and just the thought of never being able to take Jungkook out or hear his sexy little gasps made his stomach churn. | 6097acd4ee7f44a5996390df7d9eb8c3 | ['5944db27ab254fd9b16357f9f8674cb8'] | _Namjoon stretched his neck and sighed miserably. He always tried to make his office as dark as possible when no one was around because direct sunlight just gave him a headache. However with being the boss there were so many people that knocked on his door that he felt like a wind-up toy: jumping up to open the blinds then get back into his seat to let them in, waiting till the little ‘audience’ was over, then shutting the blinds again - and then sitting still for approximately one minute before it all started again. Not now though. Everyone was long gone, he had checked the system and everyone had clocked out. Only then did he dare to pull out a carton of tomato juice - which wasn’t juice at all but it was the best camouflage Namjoon could think of. He always kept the carton in one of his drawers so no one would see it anyway but Namjoon was rather safe than sorry so he never took anything suspicious with him that could have given away that he was different._
_He briefly considered heating up the blood a little so that it at least felt as if it came from a warm body but then he enjoyed it too much to just sit without having to get up at all. Besides, the taste gave it away anyways. Namjoon sipped a little, trying not to frown at the taste. Male, somewhere in his thirties, should cut a little back on his cholesterol. At least all the blood bags he got were high quality stuff. Hoseok made sure of that. During all those years there had been only one single incident where one of the hospitals that Hoseok had made deals with had sent them faulty blood. And it had been an accident. It wasn’t like back in the old times where they had to go into hiding because vampire hunters where after them 24/7. Starvation was nothing a decent vampire needed to be afraid of any longer._
_Namjoon finished his glass and then cleaned it with water right away to get rid of any traces. He never left traces. Just when he turned off the faucet he heard something that wasn’t supposed to be there. He froze, listening more closely, focusing in on it._
_There! It actually sounded like footsteps. Inside the office! Or rather.. inside the archives! A quiet growl came from his chest while the anger welled up inside of him. He never had to face industrial spying before and it made him impossibly angry - especially because it must be someone from his own people because he would have definitely heard it if someone had broken in which meant whoever was walking around here must have used a key to get in. As quietly as he could Namjoon put the glass down on the sink and opened the door, sneaking up on whoever was searching through the archives without making the smallest sound._
_In the archive Jimin’s eyes scanned file after file, his finger brushing over a few dates, before he put it aside again with a sigh. Onto the next one. Jimin couldn’t find the light switch, so instead he was using the flashlight of the phone to read what was in front of him. It took him way too long to find the right file and he wondered, when the archive was last to be organized. If Taehyung wasn’t such a kind person, Jimin would have told an intern to sort it all the next day – but he wouldn’t have wanted Tae to have this much work. He already did way too much as an intern._
_Within a second Namjoon was at the door of the archives. It had been left open but whoever was inside hadn’t switched on the lights. Namjoon smirked. Light or no light he would be able to see just fine. Quietly he got closer and then stopped suddenly dead in his tracks when he saw that it was Jimin. His eyebrows went up in surprise. Normally he was pretty good at seeing through people but he would have never suspected Jimin to spy on his own company. Now curious he waited and watched, trying to find out what exactly Jimin was looking for. Apparently it was a particular file because he started rummaging in the box without any care. For a spy he was pretty reckless._
_Biting his lip, Jimin mumbled a few words written on the file’s cover. A smile lit up his face. “Yes,” He whispered and opened it to read through the first passages. Being so immersed in the stocks of the last few years, Jimin didn’t notice when someone stood in front of him. Only when the sudden smell of cologne hit him, he looked up, staring right back into the eyes of Kim Namjoon._
_Namjoon could see the exact moment when realization hit Jimin that he wasn’t alone because his heart rate picked up and soon enough the younger turned. His eyes turned wide, mouth opening in shock but there was no sound coming out of him. Namjoon had to try his hardest not to smile at how cute he looked._
_This would be interesting._
_“Care to explain to me what exactly you are doing at the archives at night - without any lights on and past working time? Maybe I can help you finding whatever it is you are looking for.” His voice sounded as cold and intimidating as he intended to sound._ |
fb60160903d94612acc2121afeb479ec | ['5949efecba234b4ebb5c0772f3fdeb37'] | Holly has worked on the _Moonstone_ for nearly a year, and takes Amanda on frequent tours, insisting that distractions will help her. On one walk, they find themselves in a recreation room. A guitar rests on a stand in the corner, and Amanda can’t help but wander towards it.
“Do you play?” Holly asks curiously.
“I used to, a little,” Amanda touches the strings. “My mother did.”
Perhaps it was the mournful tone of her voice, but Holly steps forwards and takes Amanda by the hand. Amanda turns to her, her heart in her throat. She squeezes Holly’s soft hand with her calloused one. And then she tells her everything.
—
The _Moonstone_ lands in Tokyo a month later. Verlaine leaves almost immediately.
“I’ve got to get a new ship, start a new crew,” she says bitterly. “And then I’m going to fly out until I find a system that isn’t touched by Weyland-Yutani.”
To Amanda’s surprise, Verlaine asks if she’d like to come.
“Thanks,” she replies, shaking her head. “But I think I’ve got a job offer from the _Moonstone_. They don’t have an engineer in residence, and they’ve asked me if I’d like to stay.”
Verlaine nods. “Best of luck, Amanda.”
“You too, Diane,” Amanda wonders if they’ll ever see each other again. She hopes they will.
Amanda turns and walks along the terminal towards the ship. She’ll have money in her account soon, the Company will have no choice but to pay her for the mission. She can buy sleeping quarters on the _Moonstone_ and work her way back up. She sees Holly waiting for her the gate, and she smiles, knowing she made the right choice.
—
They stay on board the _Moonstone_ for years. Amanda rediscovers what it is like to have someone caring and consistent in her life.
She is not surprised when Holly kisses her.
She is not surprised to find that she has fallen in love for the first time.
—
They get married. They get a cat. They eventually settle in a tiny Wisconsin town and buy an out-of-use farm house.
_I am part of a family_ , Amanda realizes with delight, as she writes her name as _Amanda Ripley-McClaren_ for the first time.
She thinks of her mother frequently. She thinks of Sevastopol nearly as much. She has dreams of falling through stars, of cold synthetic hands wrapped around her throat, of monsters hunting her like prey. She wakes from these dreams, screaming and sick. Holly will hold her and reassure her, but there are some things that can’t be fixed. Amanda’s dreams aren’t figments of her imagination, they are memories. It’s often in these moments that she thinks of Samuels. She’s not sure if she ever found closure, but she thinks she might have found a strange little kind of happiness.
—
She smiles at each strand of grey that threads through her hair, at each fine line that curls down her face.
_I made it_ , she thinks, staring into the bathroom mirror. _I won._
One morning, wakes up early and kisses her half-asleep wife on the mouth before getting her bag and heading out the door. She doesn’t do much of the grunt work at the workshop anymore, but someone has to supervise those young and cocky mechanics. But first, she has an appointment.
She enters the clinic early, but the doctor is already waiting for her, her file opened in his lap. He motions for her to sit and looks at her with his lips pressed in a thin line. “I’ve been reading your file. You’ve spent extensive time in open space. And around a gas giant, too.”
She frowns and touches the key that still hangs from her neck. “Yes?”
He closes his folder, and looks her head on. “I’m afraid I have some unpleasant news.”
—
Ellen Ripley wakes up two years after Amanda dies. She finds that her daughter is gone, but there is another girl who needs her now. Newt might cling to her relentlessly, but Ellen holds on just as hard.
“Did _you_ ever have a baby?”
Ellen shifts on the bed, meeting Newt’s gaze, so unnervingly serious for a child. She pictures Amanda as she saw her last: eyes wide and watering, with her hair tucked solemnly behind her ears. She thinks of Amanda in Burke’s photograph: aged and laughing. Surely, someone with a smile so lovely had to have lived a good life.
“Yes, I did,” she says with a smile, leaning closer to Newt. “I had a little girl.”
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks for reading! I had a whole bunch of ideas for Amanda-centric stories, so I decided to pick at a few of them. I've used a lot of canon material as reference, including the books and the Nostromo dossier (ie, Ellen's mat leave situation). The scene between Ripley and Taylor is reference to Ridley Scott's idea about casual relationships in space (originally, Ripley Sr. sought out Dallas for "relief" after Kane dies, and was also sleeping with Lambert. This ~casual~ phenomenon is expanded a bit in Prometheus). Also, McClaren's gender is never specified, so I chose to make her female. Really, this whole fic is just plotless info-dumping and headcanons disguised as a story. I'm excited to jump headfirst into the world of Alien fic!
>
> For the record, I don't actually believe Amanda died when Burke said she did. With the inclusion of Alien: Isolation into the canon, it means he was, at the very least, lying by omission. If Ellen had suspicions that Amanda was alive, she would try to find her, and Burke needed her on that ship. 66 is pretty young to die in present day, let alone the future (plus the canon flip-flops around on whether or not cancer is still incurable at the time). I like to think she was living peacefully and happily. It's not like the Company never lied to Ellen before...
>
> Come talk about the Ripleys with me at USER.tumblr.com. | f3ce002c96f24017bce898ee3ecc30fd | ['5949efecba234b4ebb5c0772f3fdeb37'] |
Better to Die
The early morning mist had soaked the forest floor, and mud seeped into Anna’s heavily-patched boots. Jarred walked in front of her, carrying a string of rabbits that had been caught in the trap they had set days before. Sightless black eyes bobbed up-and-down as he walked, and the hypnotic rhythm was starting to make her feel a little ill.
Jarred turned and caught her eye, an easy grin brightening his bearded face. A sunburn peeled at his nose, and although the muscles in his arms were larger than they had been when he was a blacksmith, there was a hollowness in his cheeks that had not been there even when they had been at their poorest in the forge. The beard that he had sported since he was eighteen was rougher than ever.
She rather liked it, though.
How different she must look, too. She had not seen her reflection in anything more than the river in over than seven years. Once she had taken a little pride in her appearance, but she wondered if she would be unrecognisable to the people who had once been her neighbours.
Out of habit, she turned to look behind her, and sick panic shot from her belly to her heart when there was no one there. She stopped walking and stared into the emptiness, her heart pounding in her chest. Jarred swung around so that he was standing in front of her and placed a gentle hand on her cheek.
“She is alright,” he promised, and brushed her fringe from her eyes. “She knows to be careful.”
His words could not mend the twist of discomfort that Anna felt. “I know. I know, I just—,” she could say nothing more. If anything happened to Jasmine, it would destroy them both.
Her fears were made worse by the knowledge that something _could_ happen. They were raising their daughter in a place of terrible danger. There had been moments—secret ones—in the first days after Jasmine’s birth, where she had hated Endon, Sharn and Tora for forcing her family into such an evil place. But she had buried those thoughts deeply into the corners of her mind and never told her husband.
“It is like you said,” Jarred reminded her, “it is important that she gain some independence. She must learn how to protect herself in this place. The stream is not far, Anna. We will hear her if she calls.”
Anna took a breath and gave him a shaky smile. “You are right. I just worry.”
“I do too, dear heart,” he said solemnly. His thumb traveled from her cheek to her lips, and he leaned in and kissed her softly.
The house they had been in the high shelter of the trees was before them. When they arrived Anna unravelled a string tied tightly around a neighbouring tree and eased the rope ladder down from its hiding place. It was a simple ladder, made only of knots into a thick rope. Climbing it was a second nature, and in moments Anna and Jarred were halfway up the tree. Anna gazed around First Wood as she climbed. To the east she could see the sparkling stream where Jasmine was collecting water. Surely, she would be heading home soon. She looked to the west, where the trees were sparser, and what she saw there chilled her to the bone. Figures were moving through the forest. With a jolt of fear, Anna recognized their clothes. She had never seen a Grey Guard, but all in Del had heard stories of the fearsome servants of the Shadow Lord.
“Jarred,” she hissed desperately. “Climb down.”
He looked up at her in confusion but cursed when he saw what she had. He threw the rabbits to the ground to lose their weight, and together they began to clamber back down. To Anna’s horror, a cry of alarm sounded from the Grey Guards below.
“They have seen us!” she shouted.
When they reached the ground, he grabbed her arm. “Go to her,” he urged, and drew his dagger. “I will go south, and then turn around and meet you.”
Anna had begun to run to Jasmine before he had finished speaking. But she ran for only moments before she was grabbed by large hands and struck hard across the mouth. She felt her lip split and tried to step backwards—dazed—but the hands on her shoulders were too strong.
“Let go of me!” she screamed, struggling uselessly in the Guard’s arms.
“What have we here?” he said with a terrible grin. He began to march her forward back to the house. Two other Guards stepped out of the shadows. “I would have never expected to find ticks in this forsaken place.”
“Let’s deal with them quickly, I don’t like it here,” another Guard grumbled.
“Stop whining, Lan 5,” the first Guard said, “or I’ll find one of those monsters and feed you to it myself.”
Anna shook with fear as they reached the clearing. Her lip throbbed, and she itched to free her hands and wipe the blood away. The rest of the Grey Guards were waiting—she counted ten of them. Jarred and Jasmine were nowhere to be seen, and she hoped that they had found each other, and were safe. |
a8ebf66d10ab4b1a92a5854d7cc4cbd4 | ['594d292919644b22861b78e0f51f73fc'] | (He does not; it’s fully automated and they don’t have access to the operational level. That’s probably for the best given their track record with shit that they’re not trained in any way for or prepared to do).
Quentin spends the morning happily bouncing between levels with a rolled up sea chart. He does this while wearing a knitted beanie hat because it’s a _ lighthouse. _
Eliot keeps looking at him with soft eyes when he thinks Quentin can’t see, and Quentin _ fucking loves it, _ feels his eyes on him like a soft touch _ . _ He doesn’t do anything but grin to himself when it happens, until Eliot catches Quentin halfway down a thin ladder, and Quentin thinks, _ yes, yes, yes, _and goes happily into his arms.
Eliot plucks him from the ladder, Q wraps his legs around El’s waist and El pushes him back against it. Then Eliot proceeds to kiss the _ fuck _ out of him. It’s soft and unrelenting, and Quentin might die of it, but he might also die if Eliot stops. Every time Quentin tries to speed things up, Eliot says _ nuh uh _and drags his mouth across Q’s in a pleased, ridiculous tone, then keeps to his maddening, steady pace.
By the time Eliot pulls back with a grin, he’s pushed Quentin’s hair back with one hand to get rid of the hat and Quentin’s shifting, fidgeting against him. Quentin feels lightheaded when he realises Eliot is holding Q’s weight against the ladder with _one hand and telekinesis. _He feels like his body is turning to liquid.
Eliot leans back to look at him, slowly leans his forehead against Quentin’s and lets his eyes fall closed. He settles his hand behind Q’s ear and moves to press a deliberate, closed-mouth kiss against the opposite side of Quentin’s neck.
Quiet, into Q’s ear, he asks, ‘Bed?’
Quentin thinks he might actually, out loud, reply, ‘wreck me, please.’ It would be mortifying except, oh fuck, Eliot takes his time about it, and he _ does. _
He takes Quentin apart like the summer never has to end, with endless gentle questions. He coaxes preferences and requests out of him. Eliot asks Quentin to tell him what he wants and waits exactly long enough before doing it that Quentin thinks he might implode, gasping and sensitive to every touch of Eliot’s hands and tongue, real and anticipated.
_ \--- _
They go for a walk on the coast the next day.
It’s British summer time, so it’s raining, but it’s being apathetic about it. Mostly they’re a bit damp because the air is damp. The sea is a rolling, stormy mix of greys, and two Border Collies run up to them. They swear fealty to Quentin like they’re knights and he’s a returning king.
Quentin splits his attention between them apologetically, then looks up at the owner - a lovely person with an exasperated expression and a red waterproof. ‘Sorry,’ he says to the right one, petting the left until it leans in to push its way under his hand, ‘Sorry -’
Eliot, thank god, is charming enough for the both of them. He smoothly steals Quentin’s hand from above both dogs, turns his most dazzling smile on the red waterproof and says, ‘I’ve called dibs, darling.’
The undeterred dog-walker tells them _ no problem _(when clearly, it had been a problem. Fucking Brits) and walks on. Eliot keeps a hold of his hand.
Quentin thinks this would be a moment to realise something, if it didn’t feel like what they’d been doing all along. If there hadn’t been some spark there when Eliot pulled him along to his entrance exam, muttering, ‘yes, yes, you’re very cute,’ while Quentin stared at everything he’d ever wanted - Brakebills, magic, _ Eliot. _
\--
Q: I made friends!!!
Q is typing
Q is typing
Q is typing
Jules: gimme the dog pictures, Q, don’t you dare hold out on me
\--
They get back to the lighthouse and curl up around each other, shucking off the top layer of their damp clothes and not bothering to get dressed again. The rain starts to rattle against the lighthouse, and the waves are loud against the coast outside. Quentin slides his knee slowly down across Eliot’s leg. He takes Eliot’s face in both of his hands, then stops.
Eliot goes still, searching Q’s face with a frown and asks, ‘Quentin? You okay?’
They’re alive, they’re happy. Eliot’s voice vibrates on a too-familiar worried frequency.
(If they stopped there and didn’t do anything but trace lines across each other’s skin, it wouldn’t be the first time. Sometimes Q’s brain and El’s memories didn’t let them do anything else, even when they really want to fuck each other a whole lot.
Quentin used to feel shit when that happened, with other people, and he probably ruined as many chances with people by apologising so much, because his anxiety wouldn’t _ let it go _. It doesn’t feel so bad when it happens with Eliot, because last year happened to them both, and he doesn’t have to explain that.
It just feels like a thing that happens sometimes. Q thinks - with the exception of Margo - maybe it’s the only thing that’s a real, true first for both of them, this kind of intimacy without sex, without the _ condition _of sex.)
Except today Quentin is actually all about the sex. Or wants to be. He just wants to - try something.
He swallows and opens his eyes. He can choose this. Eliot gave him a map for it. Q can offer, too.
‘Yeah, I’m okay, I still - I just, can I try something?’
Eliot nods, watching him carefully and keeps rubbing warm circles on Quentin’s back. | c033471f913d4879b074471105013788 | ['594d292919644b22861b78e0f51f73fc'] | The first half of the night passes in a montage of camera clicks: Q and El and Margo at the candy floss stand with Joel and his dad, introducing selfies to Tick and the high council, so many shots of people spinning and hugging and laughing. Julia and Q pressed in against each other for a selfie; Margo and Eliot striking a pose. Penny and Kady passing Fen between them in a complicated dance with a lot of spinning and swapping, Kady and Eliot onstage with the band. Margo and Joel talking fast, all hands, while Joel pulls Margo towards the musicians.
Quentin holds out a hand for the camera when he sees Eliot lift and spin Joel, turning so his son is against a starry night. He catches Eliot’s jaw, curls, crown and hands in the picture, too, and Joel’s smile, eyes closed and crinkling at the sides.
‘Print that one?’ Quentin asks, past the lump in his throat that exists for no reason. No reason except his husband, co-parent and co-sleeping/sometimes sex buddy is spinning their son in the starry sky he built, just for them.
Julia just smiles.
\--
Fen cuts in on Quentin and Margo, who are ignoring the called out steps and dancing a waltz against the tide. Fen and Quentin swing passably around a few waltz steps before Fen says: ‘Q, what if I went to Earth for a while?’
‘You want to see gifs in real life?’
‘I want to see the _jifs_ , yes,’ Fen corrects him, like the queen that she is. ‘Maybe eat some pizza. Julia was telling me about places I could visit.’
‘You’re telling me, not asking me,’ Q says softly, and spins her, and Fen puts both hands on Q’s shoulders.
‘Eliot doesn’t mind,’ Fen replies, tilts her head. ‘And I’ll come back. I’ll always come back.’
Q feels like his heart could burst.
Eliot and Fen are married, of course, but they have an unconventional partnership that hinges on them being family, but not bed mates. Quentin watched Fen fall in and out of love with Eliot those first difficult years, tried to support her while he watched her grow into a formidable, beloved queen in her own right.
Fen ate up Earth stories and drawings and - when they could get them - movies on tablets. Fen visited Earth with the Earth gang, and he knows that when Alice left for Earth and the Library, Fen almost went with her.
Everyone focused on the children of Earth finding out there was a whole world of Fillory out there; Quentin wished more people thought about the children of Fillory finding out there was a whole _Earth_ out there.
(The timing had sucked. There had been rumours of an uprising; she’d stayed, it hadn’t happened, and she’d _stayed_ for them and helped them balance a country and figuring out how to be parents to Joel.)
Quentin decides to be inconvenient and break the dance pattern. He stops and hugs Fen tight, because she’s funny and kind and lovely, and he loves her, too. He’s going to miss her so much. Joel’s going to miss her _so much,_ but that’s not a reason for her to stay, not when she’s done so much more than duty or love could have asked of her.
‘You’ll visit like, a lot,’ Quentin asks, voice hoarse. ‘Tell us how happy you are?’
Fen holds on just as tight and Quentin meets Margo’s eyes across the room. Margo’s eyes are full and she’s giving Quentin a look like she knows. Quentin knows this is going to be harder on Margo, and holds her eyes, makes a note to find her and hug her later. Makes a note to make sure she gets a couple of days of her own with Joel on a trip somewhere they’ll both like soon, massive council portfolio be damned.
Fen nods against Quentin’s shoulder. ‘I’ll visit so much you’ll be begging me to leave. If I lost you, I’d rend my garments and howl at the stars.’
They’ve all gotten a bit more dramatic the longer they live with Eliot. Or maybe that’s why they gravitated towards each other in the first place.
‘We did enough, right?’
Quentin knows that Fen means: will Eliot be okay? Will Joel? Can I go, can I leave Fillory?
Quentin wants to cry. He gets it, suddenly, the way Fen has been building schools, the way Fen has been changing the constitution and healthcare and pushing Quentin into Eliot’s room at night more and more.
The way she always took the position of cool aunt to Joel, loved him with her whole heart, but made sure Eliot and Q and Margo were his parents first. The way she visited her father at the forge for the winter and came back with red eyes.
Quentin realises, belatedly, that he’s crying into Fen’s gorgeous dress. At least his kingly eyeliner is magically waterproof, care of Margo.
He wonders if he’s the last to understand that Fen’s been building them a home so she could leave to find her own and so she'd know they’d be okay.
Abruptly, Quentin remembers Eliot saying, once upon a lifetime ago, _are you sure about this? I’m … kind of a mess. Fen didn’t know that._
Q and Fen are weeping on each other under Eliot’s enchanted Earth stars and moon; he wonders if Eliot ever figured out that Fen knew all along, and chose to stay and loved them anyway.
\--
‘Hey, Q,’ Eliot cuts in later, when Quentin is finishing a dance with Margo and bowing to her deeply, with a muttered thanks to Margo. Quentin is clearly imagining things when he thinks he sees Margo mutter back, _go for it_. ‘Did Ted get out okay?’ |
bd9bfedb4ad64f0cb2e3d96611e7d37d | ['59569031469d43eb97131fd76b803148'] | It wasn’t long before he found some tracks in the dirt. After awhile, his eyes had accustomed to the light and he was able to make out some paw prints. Dropping down to his knees, he peered down and examined the markings. The markings were fresh. The animal had recently walked down this path. There were also some animal faeces nearby that were also fresh. They did not belong to a bear, a deer or a canine, but rather the paws belonged to a feline. A decent sized one too.
“Where are you hiding?” he murmured, crouching slightly, as made his way through the forest. Slightly bent knees helped him steady his aim. He kept following the trail until he came across a few more fallen logs covered in moss. This one even had a few spiders crawling along. He climbed over it then stopped, eyes fixed on the ground. There. An earring. A large golden earring shaped like a crescent moon. He bent over and picked it up. Someone had lost one.
He tried to think of the Mayan gods. The Norse had only battled them once in the tournament. He remembered dealing with Xbalanque in the duo lane and having to deal with an annoying rash afterwards from the poisoned barbed bolas. At least he hadn’t had to deal with Ah Muzen Cab. He feared the bees more than the bolas. Kukulkan, Chaac and Cabraken had also competed that day and the monkey, Hun Batz was on jungle duty subbing in for Awilix who had apparently fallen ill that same morning. The earrings probably belonged to Awilix. It wasn’t as if there were any other females on the team… at least, not that he was aware of. He decided to keep it in case he ran into the Mayan team in the tournament.
He was about to put it away into his pocket when he heard a low growling noise coming from behind. Turning around, he readied his bow and remained still, training his senses on his environment. A jaguar emerged from the bushes, its fur a brown spotted colour, and its eyes filled with a hunger. He was expecting an ambush – why would a predator reveal itself – unless…
“Lower the bow or I will drive this spear through your backside,” said a commanding female voice.
Ah, of course, baited. Luck really wasn’t on his side today. Fortunately, Skadi wasn’t around or he’d never hear the end of it. He did as the woman asked and lowered the bow. The jaguar crept towards him and it seemed to be smiling. So Thor had managed to get their ship washed ashore on Mayan territory. Just great. He wasn’t overly knowledgeable about Mayan culture, but he had heard interesting and terrifying stories from other gods who had gotten lost in the Mayan jungle. The Mayans were barbaric and they had strange fetishes. At least that’s what the stories said. “This earring belongs to you, doesn’t it?”
She ignored his question. He could feel the sharp end of her spear poking into his back. “You’re not much of a hunter, are you? I thought you were supposed to be good. How disappointing. You should get a canine companion like that friend of yours. You could use a helping hand.”
“May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?” He figured he might as well be civil. Maybe she’d be less likely to impale him on her spear if he was polite.
“It’s Awilix.”
Ah yes, the goddess of the moon. He had never seen her compete before, but apparently she had a fetish for chasing people who were mobile. It was said the jungle was her playground and she liked targeting hunters. He supposed it had something to do with her close connection to her pet companion; she was very protective of nature and saw hunters as a personal threat to her jungle. “Right. Well, Awilix, I found an earring on the ground here.”
“Yes, Suku told me he caught a thief snooping around.”
“Suku?”
“My jaguar.”
“Oh.” Ah. Suku. What did that name mean anyway? It probably meant something along the lines of death in her native tongue. “You can have it back. I’m not a thief. I was keeping it safe.”
“You’re an odd one, aren’t you? Ullr, right? Judging by your clothing, you’re definitely a long way from home.” She lowered the spear and walked in front of him, keeping her weapon close. She was shorter than him. A head shorter actually. Her head just reached his shoulder. “Aren’t you hot? Surely, you must be feeling quite warm.”
Truth be told, yes, yes he was. He was actually sweating. It was damned hot here. Even if he was wearing something similar to Thor’s barbarian outfit, he was sure he’d still find the heat unbearable. On the other hand, Awilix was wearing barely any clothing. She wore a headdress made of feathers, some arm guards, and a two piece clothing garment to cover her breasts and waist. The clothing left little to the imagination. He was surprised that her outfit managed to hold together. In contrast, he was fully clothed from head to toe. Long sleeves. A cape with a hood. Long pants. Fur boots. He was dressed for the snow. Not to mention he was carrying two single bladed axes, a longbow and the arrows.
“Uh yes,” he said, distracted. “This heat. Horrible.”
“Well,” she replied, looking him up and down then up again. “Maybe if you weren’t wearing so much, you wouldn’t feel so hot.”
“I’ll manage.”
She shrugged. “If you end up fainting on me, don’t say I didn’t warn you. So. I don’t really know much about you. When we think Norse, we often hear Odin, Loki and Thor.” She makes a sour face at the mention of Loki. Ullr couldn’t help but chuckle. So Loki was also disliked outside the Norse pantheon too. “What do you do?” | 968786225f134e078967259e2e6a0c74 | ['59569031469d43eb97131fd76b803148'] |
The Hunt
Shit. Shit. Shit. Pate sprinted through the forest undergrowth, desperately looking for someplace to hide. Climbing a tree was out of the question since his armour was too heavy for that, and it wasn’t like he could hide behind a bush or anything. Creighton was going to murder him. He just knew it. Who knew the knight could be so damned sensitive?
“I’m going to find you, and I’m going to gut you as if you were one of these beasts here!” Pate heard Creighton bellow. “You think you can run forever?!”
Could the man be any louder? He was going to draw the attention of the undead in the forest. Pate knew the basics of combat, but having to fight off against groups of hollows and a pissed off homicidal maniac wasn’t exactly what he’d call enjoyable. It had all started with a harmless joke. Something about Creighton being on the run from the law. Little had he known that his joke was actually the truth, but did Creighton have to take it so hard?
Now he was running away doing his damn best to lose the murderous knight. The man was athletic. He supposed killing everyone in his path kept him in top physical health. He continued to run, ignoring the pain in his ribs. No time to stop now. Up ahead, he saw a bulky undead creature wielding two sickles. He thought about running past it and trying to make the creature chase after Creighton instead, but figured it wasn’t worth the risk.
He looked to the east. There were a few prison cells across the bridge. What if… An idea formed in his mind. What if he could trick Creighton into going into a cell? The man wasn’t exactly the brightest warrior around. Sure, there was intelligence in that head of his, but he was so consumed with killing Pate, he wouldn’t be paying any attention to traps. Or that’s what he hoped.
Pate sprinted across the bridge and ran into one of the cells. There were two undead inside, but their legs were broken, and couldn’t move. They could keep Creighton company while he hollowed and became one of them. Dropping a hand into his pocket, he withdrew the prison cell key he had looted off a corpse the other day.
Now to make Creighton think he had become trapped inside. All he had to do now was lure Creighton inside the cell, hope the undead did the job then lock him inside. Only then could he laugh at his former partner’s misery. Pate walked to the centre of the cell and waited for Creighton to arrive. “This had better work…” he told himself.
Creighton arrived several minutes later, blood splatters on his clothes. Naturally he had killed a few undead on the way here. That explained the grin on his face. “There you are!” Creighton said, moving forwards, wielding his axe with both hands. “You’re not getting away this time.” He stepped inside the cell.
“So you finally caught up with me,” Pate said, strafing the man, keeping his shield raised and ready. “Was wondering when you’d show up.”
“We had a deal, Pate. That ring belongs to me.”
Pate raised his hand, revealing the ring of thorns on his left middle finger. “What, this one? I was the one who tracked him down.”
“And who was the one who put the axe in his head?” Creighton retorted.
Creighton, naturally. The man always did the killing. Pate would find the treasure, and Creighton would kill anyone guarding it. It had worked for a few months, but Creighton demanded more, claiming he deserved it since he did all the fighting. Pate disagreed, and thus the first argument had happened.
“I found it first. You know what they say here in Drangleic, finders keepers,” Pate taunted.
Creighton growled, and shook his axe. “I’m coming to take it off you.”
“Then you’ll just have to kill me then.”
“That can be arranged.” The man lunged. Pate raised his shield and deflected the blow. He kicked a leg forward, hoping to throw his opponent off balance, but Creighton read him well and evaded it. He swung his axe. Pate stepped back then thrust his spear forward. “Hiding behind a shield, Pate? Once a coward, always a coward.”
He lunged again. Pate stepped back, thrusting his spear forward once again, but Creighton stepped to the side. The plan wasn’t to kill him – where would the fun be in that? No – all he needed to do was continue pushing him back as he made his way outside. The man was so determined to kill him that he probably hadn’t even noticed the two undead in the corner.
“A coward? I call it being cautious. You never know what sort of creature awaits you around a dark corner,” Pate replied, slowly moving backwards, keeping his eyes trained on his rival. So close now. Just a little bit more…
“I just want the damn ring, Pate. It’s mine,” Creighton snarled, swinging his axe.
Pate raised his shield, deflecting the blow. “You really think I’d give this to you? It’s my finest treasure.” He thrust the spear again. Creighton edged closer to the hollows. One more thrust should do the trick. “Like I said earlier… I found him first.” Before Creighton could react, Pate thrust the spear once again, forcing Creighton within grabbing range of the hollows.
“What the-”
A hollow grabbed his left leg. The other hollow grabbed his other one. Now temporarily distracted, Pate fled out of the prison cell, and slammed the gate shut. He jammed the key inside and locked the door, then winked. “Have fun with your new playmates, Creighton!” he jeered.
Creighton turned around, and swung his axe at the arms restraining them, chopping them off with little effort. Once freed, he charged at the gate, and slammed a fist against it. “Release me at once!” he bellowed.
Pate smirked. “You should be thanking me. At least you’re safe inside there.”
He slammed a fist against the gate again. “I will find a way to get out and I will come for you! You’ll have nowhere to hide, Pate! Do you hear me?! I will find you and I will kill you!”
Rolling his eyes, he shrugged. “That’s it. Keep on dreaming. Hey – you never know. Some poor soul might find it within their heart to release you, but I’d say you’ll be hollowed before that ever happens.” To further rub the salt in the wound, Pate brought out the key and dangled it in his face. “Goodbye old friend! I hope to never see you again!” Turning his back, he walked away, chuckling at the excessive string of curses coming from Creighton’s mouth. At last, he had defeated his rival.
It was going to odd travelling without his psychopathic ex-friend. The man might be a murderous fool, but he had his uses. But he was sure someone else would fill in the void. Some lonesome traveller he could prey on and take advantage of. He’d carry on with life as per normal. Trick people. Lead them into traps then loot the corpse. That was the life of a treasure hunter. The thrill of the hunt.
**Author's Note:**
> So I've been playing Soulsborne games again and recently just finished 2. I was reminded of how much I love these two and couldn't resist writing a short story. |
e58609bcb60241d0a8cc0981a573e4e9 | ['5964fe395b744b4eac465ca60a2d144d'] |
Saved things from the RP
Amelia (The Dark) Pond double chillin' in the kitchen with chillin' ice cream
The Dark Doctor (11) decided to go to the kitchen for tea or smth.
Amelia (The Dark) Pond Turned to look at him as he came in then went back to her icecream.
The Dark Doctor (11) "Hey," he greeted quietly, stopping at the doorway and straightening his tie. "You okay?"
Amelia (The Dark) Pond "Hello," She smiled, nodding. "Perfect. You?"
The Dark Doctor (11) "Could be better," he mused, discarding the initial reason he came here, pulling up a chair and sitting across her. "After yesterday and all."
Amelia (The Dark) Pond "Yesterday..?" She looked at him, "Oh right. Yes. Hope you get better soon."
The Dark Doctor (11) "You were the one that seemed to have the problem," he said certainly, propping his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his laced fingers.
Amelia (The Dark) Pond "Not at all! I was absotively posilutely A-okay!"
The Dark Doctor (11) "You weren't," he repeated, brow furrowed as he watched her. "We can discuss it now, if you want."
Amelia (The Dark) Pond "As I said earlier, I was fine. I am fine now as well. You're welcome to rant if you feel like it," She shrugging, stirring the melted desert.
The Dark Doctor (11) "So I will, but I don't think we're close enough so I'll just give you the shortcut. I think we're wrong and horribly mismatched for this universe."
Amelia (The Dark) Pond She nodded, keeping her eyes on the bowl, "Okay."
The Dark Doctor (11) "Even in a universe where paradoxes are the norm and even the most obnoxious phenomenons occur, never have I once seen us - an Amelia and a Doctor together. We weren't meant to be from the start."
Amelia (The Dark) Pond "Alright," She said, leaning back and looking at him, her arms crossed and her eyes blank.
The Dark Doctor (11) "We're not supposed to be. What do you make of this, Amelia?" he asked, lowering his hands.
Amelia (The Dark) Pond "I'd tell you," She started, getting up, " But we are not that close ," She shrugged, the cold glint in her eyes set on him. "Good talk." Giving him a slight nod, she turned on her heel and left the kitchen.
The Dark Doctor (11) "No, Amelia," he groaned, standing up and turning, following after. "Just -- hear me out, Amelia."
Amelia (The Dark) Pond "Please, okay? Stop. Just stop," She said, holding her hands up. "I'm done. You can stop with your games. You can stop with the whole 'play with a human' thing," She shook her head, her face growing harder and colder at every syllable. "Don't put yourself through this all. Go do something what's meant to be. Don't explain. Drop this here and now. We're just companions. Or rather I'm a homeless person who you've taken in. Right? That's what's meant to be. Isn't it?"
The Dark Doctor (11) "No! Nothing like that at all," he sighed, the statement coming out as a hiss. "This conversation isn't over and we are not setting this down - any of this. You know who you are to me and you know it well. Let me finish and just -- listen."
Amelia (The Dark) Pond She shut her eyes tightly for a moment then shook her head, "I am tired of listening!" She roared, glaring at him. "I am tired of hearing you explain! You're god damned mouth, says absolute shit! And then your mind goes, 'crap, how did the truth come out! Better explain. Better lie..and fix it up,' because, you are still not finished with your fucking game!" She snapped, "I am done with the explanations!"
The Dark Doctor (11) "So you were doubting me, after all," he seethed, fingers tireless against his sides as he stared at her with his eyes narrowed. "You think this is a fucking game to me? Maybe I was the one being played with the entire time! Nevertheless, I know my facts and you can't seem to distinguish genuine expression from anything else. This is one of the bullshit moves you're playing, Amelia."
Amelia (The Dark) Pond "You tell me that we're wrong. And not meant to be. Then you expect me to throw myself at your feet and beg for you to keep me? I don't want to torture you with my presence when it's clear you don't even want it!" She said, gritting her teeth. "Me playing game? You really are thick! If I was playing games, I'd not be here still! You are the one who treats me like shit! Everyday you break my heart in ways you pretend you don't get! But you do! This is all fun for you. Watching me in pain. Watching me shatter and break."
The Dark Doctor (11) "You are horrendously misinterpreting my emotions and intentions and you are just misinterpreting me in general. My game is death and indifference, and if either were in play, you would be deceased - which is something I have been fearing since you arrived here. Look at me, Amelia; tell me I don't care about you," he growled, fisting his hands and breathing deeply. "You're not comprehending me well."
Amelia (The Dark) Pond "Of course. It's my perception's fault. You don't care about me. If you did, you won't say all the stuff that comes out of your mouth. Death and indifference? You won't stab me. That much I know. You're going to kill me emotionally. You're going to rip my heart out, and stomp on it, until it turns to dust. That's what your words to do to me." | f5ed4268d983444a872931ce47cf08e1 | ['5964fe395b744b4eac465ca60a2d144d'] |
Uhhhh
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| LINK
**Pepper Potts** : (anyone have THAT yugioh ship )
**ukecharles** : OH
**ukecharles** : GALLAVITCH
**ukecharles** : i cant spell
**firestarter** : teaxyugi and joexmai ?
**Doon Woonchostor** : There's so much sexual tension is Meet the Robinsons its painful
**LampShade** : ((I read this one fic and it scarred me for life))
**Doon Woonchostor** : in*
**Pepper Potts** : Yah fuck tea
**ukecharles** : the siblings in that coffee advert otp 6eva
**Pepper Potts** : whiny bitch
**LampShade** : ((It was with like- sonic and harry potter and Pokemon))
**Doon Woonchostor** : Thorki is just awful
**ukecharles** : frostiron and frostshield 5eva
**firestarter** : and i mean the pharaoh yugi not normal yugi that would be creepy
**ukecharles** : everyone in the avengers just giant orgy
**Doon Woonchostor** : I read a Johnlock fic where Sherlock and John were step-brothers and it was hot and I'm not guilty
**Will Graham** : good thing will has no family
**Pepper Potts** whines into his lips, pressure building* faster please faster *moans, biting his lip*
**ukecharles** : YET
**Doon Woonchostor** : _HE HAS THE DOGS_
**ukecharles** : OMG
**Will Graham** : hes not gonna fuck the dogs
**LampShade** : Well
**LampShade** : Thats what Loki was saying
**LampShade** : But then he right out fucked a horse
**ukecharles** : that girl that sucked a used tampon/the tampon
**Will Graham** : will is not loki
**LampShade** : She dipped it in koolaid
**SgtBarnes** increases speed even more and moans loudly
**Doon Woonchostor** : _ **HES GHONNA FUCK THE DOGS**_
**LampShade** : But yeah I ship it
**ukecharles** : DONT SPOIL MY DREAMS LAMP
**firestarter** : im confused
**ukecharles** : LAMP/PINK
**Doon Woonchostor** : SHE USED MAKEUP AND KOOLAID
**Doon Woonchostor** : will is definitely loki
**firestarter** : i still wonder if any of you are secretly shipping me
**Doon Woonchostor** : (( yo do any of you have snapchat ))
**Pepper Potts** grips nails tighter, moaning as she shakes* al-alsmot *tightens legs*
**ukecharles** : i ship me and myself
**firestarter** : ((no i do not have snapchat))
**LampShade** : Lamp x pink is otp for life
**Will Graham** is not loki
**Doon Woonchostor** : My Crush? Love? The person I like ships me with Jenna louise Coleman
**Will Graham** : my snapchat is princess.dean
**Doon Woonchostor** _ **will is defo loki**_
**Will Graham** IS NOT LOKI
**firestarter** : wait lamp are you shipping yourself with a color or the musician pink?
**SgtBarnes** increases speed more "Fuck... Oh god yes" * digs nails into her skin, sitting up to go deeper, biting my own lip
**Doon Woonchostor** ** _WILL IS DEFINITELY LOKI_**
**Will Graham** : im listening to p!nk right now
**Will Graham** is gonna fuck you up
**LampShade** : The color
**Will Graham** : woah who made nuggets
**Will Graham** : brb
**LampShade** has a really big kink for the color pink*
**ukecharles** : lamp is a poet
**Doon Woonchostor**
[](http://i.imgur.com/xWzLs6Z.png)
**Pepper Potts** cries out softly at movement before hissing as he goes deeper, forehead against his* fuck more yes! *bites hard at lip, drawing blood*
**firestarter** : i might come back as tiff just to see your guys reactions
**Doon Woonchostor** : Well now we know
**LampShade** is totally a poet bruh
**Doon Woonchostor** : PEPPER WTF
**Ruby** joined the chat 7 minutes ago
**Ruby** : WHO SENT ME THAT SNAPCHAT. I don't know why i didn't put your name there
**firestarter** : in a few hours my guess is by the time im done with guardians of the galaxy you will have been fucking for so long that you will forget i ever mentioned tiff
**Pepper Potts** : might have been ty, was it something pink and sparkly?
**Jim_Moriarty** joined the chat 6 minutes ago
**firestarter** : hi jim
**SgtBarnes** goes deeper and pulls her hips closer, mouth open
**Will Graham** : dude
**Jim_Moriarty** : Sorry guys I was just
**Will Graham** : nuggets
**Jim_Moriarty** : idk
**Ruby** : ((Yes. THANK YOU!!
**Jim_Moriarty** : oh no
**Jim_Moriarty** : we're both green
**Jim_Moriarty** : one sec
**Will Graham** : soulmates jim
**ukecharles** : ahem
**Jim_Moriarty** : We're a forest
**Doon Woonchostor** : (( will check yo snapchat ))
**Will Graham** : aight
**Jim_Moriarty** : Charles <3
**ukecharles** : bae
**firestarter** : oh me and ruby are both red i did not notice that till now
**Ruby** : ((Haha would Ruby be any other color?))
**Will Graham** : wow doon ihu
**SgtBarnes** goes all in
**firestarter** : ((would a fire?))
**Jim_Moriarty** : I had a little cry and read some comics, I still feel like shit but it's better than I felt before *claps for me*
**Pepper Potts** moans out, rocking her hips to meet his, nipping at his chin*
**Doon Woonchostor** : xD
**Pepper Potts** : im glad ur better jim
**ukecharles** : yay amb
**Jim_Moriarty** : But lets do something fun or smth idk
**SgtBarnes** bites back a moan "Fuck... I'm so close..."
**Jim_Moriarty** : someone tell me jokes
**Jim_Moriarty** : Barnes o
**firestarter** : knock knock
**Ruby** : ((touché))
**ukecharles** : amb
**Will Graham** : doon fuck u
**ukecharles** : have you seen tws gag reel
**Pepper Potts** bites at his lips again, breathing harsh* me too *kisses him harshly*
**LampShade** : OOO OOO I HAVE A JOKE!!!
**firestarter** : i have one knock knock damn it
**firestarter** : i got to go
**SgtBarnes** puts vibrating hand back on her clit, kissing back aggressively
**ukecharles** : byee
**LampShade** : Who's there
**Doon Woonchostor** : ayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
**Doon Woonchostor** : bye
**Will Graham** : i dont want to see your dinner fgt
**Jim_Moriarty** : wat no |
18dd820f5f2d4f5aa762bb52e7782fc7 | ['59864b63ba9f470fbcdff77d0e32879f'] | we still have tonight
**Author's Note:**
> I should be studying for Bio. Instead I'm writing smut about dumb French hunks.
No one loves the light like a blind man.
Grantaire reaches for him like a blind man, groping, desperate. They are in the stairwell of the Musain, and it’s past midnight and the other Amis are gone, having vacated this cramped space for the beds of pretty girls and witty girls. And Grantaire knows that he could have any drunken dancing girl, any gamin on the street, but it’s not their lithe bodies he wants between his sheets. He’s hungry for intimacy, a hunger so deep that his heart aches, his skin needs the sensation of another person dragging fingertips and tongue across it.
“What are you doing?” Enjolras flinches away from Grantaire’s clumsy hands, nearly sending Grantaire crashing into the wall. The dark-haired drunk stumbles, Enjolras catches him, steadying him with strong hands.
“Come ‘ere,” Grantaire slurs, and he reaches for Enjolras, takes him by that stupid tie that he always wears too loose, forever the unwitting tease. He presses himself against his friend, their lips crash together, Grantaire’s mouth hot and wet. Enjolras jerks back, and looks for all the world like a lost little boy. His eyes are wide, his cheeks flushed. For once, he’s at loss for words, unsure of what to do next. Grantaire’s hand is still around his tie, and there is a moment during which both boys stare at each other. Then Grantaire presses Enjolras against the wall again, one hand fisting in his shirtfront, the other pressed against the wall, caging him in. And Enjolras arches up towards Grantaire’s mouth, hands tangled in his wild dark hair.
“Dieu,” Enjolras groans, pulling back. His mouth is red, his eyes glazed with lust. He looks utterly debauched, and Grantaire has to admit that it’s a very good look on him.
“I hadn’t any idea what a good kisser you are,” Grantaire breathes, “you’ve been holding out on me.”
He tangles their fingers together. Enjolras brushes his cheek.
“Please,” he says, “come with me.”
His eyes are wide, pleading, and so Grantaire does. He follows Enjolras down the stairs, out into the street, down the wide, empty avenue. The pavement shines like silver in the pale gleam of moonlight. They stop to kiss by the river, beneath a string of streetlights, on the landing to Enjolras’ cramped flat. Once inside, Grantaire presses him against the door with a growl, lips on Enjolras’ neck, hands sliding beneath his shirt and jacket. Something feels very right about this, about the way that Enjolras, always so stoic, so stony, bends like putty beneath him.
“T'arrete,” Enjolras begs, pulling back. “Grantaire, you are drunk. Please, I asked you here to sleep off the wine.”
He gestures to the narrow bed in the corner, the flat mattress and the thin blanket.
“You mean to put me to bed?” Grantaire inquires, his words slurring together. Enjolras guides him backwards towards the bed, shoving him down.
“Yes.”
Grantaire removes his boots and jacket and vest, and then lays back and watches, smug, while Enjolras does the same.
“I have work to do,” says the blonde boy, but his voice is weak, almost heavy with want. “You go to sleep, Grantaire.”
Grantaire rolls onto his side and looks up Enjolras with pleading eyes.
“You would make me sleep alone?”
Enjolras groans and loosens his tie. He moves to drape it over the end of his bed, and Grantaire grabs his wrist and jerks him roughly so that he lands on Grantaire’s legs.
“Ouch! What are you doing, you drunk rascal?”
Grantaire manhandles Enjolras onto his back.
“I believe I’m taking you to bed, monsieur.”
Enjolras starts to protest, then moans as Grantaire grinds against him. Something hard is pressing against Grantaire’s stomach as he leans down to kiss Enjolras’ neck, wondering if he’ll leave marks that the other Amis will see the next day. Will they wonder who their ever-so-pure leader has been shagging? Will they ask?
Grantaire grinds against Enjolras again, his cock painfully hard, and Enjolras throws his head back and groans again.
“The virginal Enjolras, so debauched,” Grantaire smirks. “Whatever will people say?”
Enjolras manages a glare.
“They will say nothing,” he corrects, panting. “They will never know of this.”
And Grantaire knows it to be true, and it hurts that no one will ever acknowledge the things they do in the dark, but they have tonight. They might not have tomorrow, but they have tonight.
Grantaire responds by picking up the pace, grinding faster and harder. He’s certain that he’s going to come soon, he feels a familiar tug in the pit of his stomach. He looks down at Enjolras, pupils blown dark with want, mouth moving silently as if in prayer.
“God,” Grantaire pants, and he kisses Enjolras hard, and Enjolras responds by biting his lower lip and then his neck, hard enough to leave a bruise.
“Gr-Grantaire,” Enjolras moans, and he writhes desperately,. “Harder, please.”
Grantaire obliges, until Enjolras’ hips jerk upwards, and he throws his head back and moans Grantaire’s name, his breath hitching. Grantaire comes not long after, whimpering ‘Enjolras’ as he climaxes.
He collapses beside Enjolras, both of them breathing hard.
“You’ll be my undoing,” Enjolras mutters, drawing Grantaire against him. His hands work beneath the drunk’s shirt, tracing patterns across his ribs.
“And you’ll be mine,” Grantaire replies, quiet and sated. It hurts him, because he knows it’s true. | f993ac179d54473594b69898b794b7d0 | ['59864b63ba9f470fbcdff77d0e32879f'] | Robb allows himself to be lead inside by Theon, and goes willingly up the narrow staircase that leads to the boys' chambers. Robb and Jon have always shared a room, but Theon has his own between theirs and Bran's. When the older boy locks the door and shoves Robb against it, he lets out a loud groan and then prays that none of the younger boys-or anyone else, for that matter-can hear them. Theon pulls back, his mouth red, pale cheeks flushed, his eyes wild with a dark pleasure. He runs a hand through Robb's tangled curls, yanking back and it almost hurts but it feels _good_. He presses a sharp kiss, all teeth and tongue, to Robb's neck, the sensitive skin over his collarbone. The places where Theon's mouth touches him feel like fire. Theon strips Robb of his jerkin and shirt, then pushes him backwards until his knees hit the edge of Theon's bed and he tumbles backwards onto the pelts. Theon gives him a wicked grin, then straddles him easily, knees on either side of Robb's hips. He bends to press a kiss to his neck, sucking hard at the skin like he's _marking_ him.
"Stark," Theon says quietly, pinning Robb's wrists to the bed. "I am going to _undo you_."
The words send a rush of heat to the pit of Robb's stomach. He feels himself getting harder, and when Theon rubs himself against his cock, he moans.
"Gods, Theon, please-"
Theon's fingers nimbly unlace Robb's breeches, and oh god he's so hard, and he's desperate for friction, for release, and Theon's mouth is moving lower and lower.
And then-oh _gods_ -Theon's mouth is covering the head of his cock, and Robb has never felt anything like it in all his life. It's not like he hasn't finished himself off with his hands before, furtivly and in the dead of night when Jon is asleep. But it's different when it's his own hands, not someone else's mouth, not his _father's ward_ making those obscene noises, sort of moaning around his cock like he's _enjoying_ this.
"Oh-oh _gods_ Theon," Robb groans, his breath catching in his throat. He can feel himself getting close, so he thrusts up into Theon's mouth, choking,
"Theon, I'm going to-"
And then he's coming into Theon's mouth, crying out in ectasy. Robb's not sure what happens after that...he assumes that Theon swallows, then glides back up to press a salty kiss to Robb's slack mouth. Theon is hard, his stiff cock grinding against Robb's thigh, and Robb wants to finish him with his mouth but he's not sure how, doesn't want to ruin this moment with his clumsiness. He unlaces Theon's breeches, takes him in hand. Theon moans, loudly, as Robb moves his hand up and down and his fingers are shaking but _gods be good_ Theon is moaning like a whore and then he sort of spasms, and his hips jerk forwards, and he comes into Robb's hand. _
_
Theon collapses beside Robb, panting, his russet curls sticking to his forehead.
"Not bad, wolf-boy," he murmers into Robb's neck. "Not bad at all...for a Stark." |
57173ac9c26e4ff79a5f1c8afc942e35 | ['599c7022ca4c4234903612828ab6744f'] | The Weedle honked in pain as it fell in front of Ivory’s feet.
“…Thanks,” Ivory said, pulling out a Poké Ball. They tossed the Poké Ball onto the Weedle, enveloping it.
The ball stood still…
… _click!_
Ivory threw their hands up in the air. “Booyah! Second catch!”
They picked up the Poké Ball with one hand and pulled out their Pokédex with the other. “Alright. Male Weedle… What’ll I name you?”
They blinked.
“Crap.” They had forgotten about their problem with originality again.
“Hohhh…” they exhaled, hooking the Poké Ball to their belt. “Well, Weedle evolve into Kakuna, which evolve into Beedrill, right? So what’s a good name for a Beedrill…”
_‘Wasn’t there some Unovan boxer who made a quote like “Float like a Butterfree, sting like a Beedrill?” What was his name again? Mohamed Alley? It was something like that, definitely… Would naming it after him be too on-the-nose? Hmm… Maybe… Yari? No, that’s just “spear,” plus it sounds like a girl’s name. Sasu? I mean, it’s literally “sting,” but it sounds kinda masculine, right? I also like the “S” sound, so that’s a bonus.’_
“Yeah, I’ll call him Sasu.” Ivory entered the nickname and then put the Pokédex away.
Ivory started walking again, when a glimmer caught their eye.
“Hm?” They turned to face the glimmer.
There was a strange, gently shining crystal lying in the grass. It was shaped kind of like a plus, having two long parts and two short parts, each part having four sides.
Ivory leaned down. “What’s this?”
They went to pick it up, but halted before touching it.
“…Have I seriously been wearing only one glove this entire time?”
When they had scratched Tanesuke’s head, they had taken off a glove, and then somehow managed to forget about it until now.
Speechless, they fished the glove out of their pocket and put it on.
They grabbed the crystal off of the ground. As it entered their grasp, its shining stopped.
Ivory turned the crystal around in their gloved hands curiously. It was transparent, like pure glass.
They looked at the patch of grass the crystal was lying in. _‘Should I take this? It’s not mine… Someone probably dropped it here.’_
They put it in their pocket. _‘I hope there’s a lost-and-found around here.’_
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm going to try and update this fic at least twice a month.
2. Bold and Boulder
_‘Geez, Viridian Forest is huge,’_ thought Ivory, who had been wandering around the forest for about ten minutes by now. It was boring. They hadn’t seen any new Pokémon ever since Sasu surprised them.
Ivory’s legs were starting to get tired, and there wasn’t any end in sight.
A rustle in the bushes caught their attention.
There was a yellow, heart-shaped tail sticking from the greenery. _‘A female Pikachu!’_
Ivory slowly approached. The Pikachu peeked out. Ivory glanced at Tanesuke, who was already prepared to battle.
The Pikachu lunged.
Ivory threw a Poké Ball and hit the Pikachu in mid-air, enveloping it.
The Poké Ball fell to the ground. Tanesuke looked disappointed.
The Poké Ball wobbled…
…it snapped open!
_‘Drat! I almost had it!’_
The Pikachu got on all fours, electricity building up in its cheeks. “Pikaaa…”
Ivory pointed dramatically. “Tackle—”
“CHU!” The Pikachu fired a Thunder Shock at Tanesuke, blasting him back.
“Ah shit!” said Ivory. Tanesuke stumbled onto his feet.
The Pikachu started charging up again.
“Growl!” Ivory ordered.
Tanesuke winked and growled cutely.
The Pikachu stopped. It had an uncertain look on its face, with furrowed brows and a slightly opened mouth.
While the Pikachu was having what looked like an existential crisis, Ivory tossed a Poké Ball at it.
The Poké Ball wobbled…
_…click!_
Ivory squealed happily as they picked up the Ball and pulled out their Pokédex. For some reason, they didn’t feel hesitant about naming it.
“I’ll name her Kokoro, for her heart-shaped tail.”
They input the name and put the Pokédex back in their pocket.
They started walking again. After a few more boring minutes, Ivory reached the end of Viridian Forest.
They stepped out of Viridian Forest, shielding their eyes from the bright sun shining overhead.
“It’s already noon?! Jeez, I oughta get a move on.”
They looked behind their shoulder to make sure Tanesuke was following them, and then they started running up to Pewter City.
After a minute of sprinting, they arrived. They rested on a nearby fence, panting heavily, and looked out at Pewter City. It was a sizable city with plenty of modern-looking grayish-white buildings, true to the city’s motto, “A Stone Gray City.”
Ivory started walking down one of the ash-gray sidewalks. The crystal in their pocket pressed against their side.
Ivory tapped on a random man’s shoulder. “Excuse me, is there a lost-and-found anywhere nearby?”
The man shook his head. “Not that I know of, no.”
“Oh. Thanks anyway!” Ivory walked off.
They headed in front of Pewter City Gym. It was huge, just like Viridian City Gym, but something about it was a lot more imposing. The walkway in front of the door was made of bright white concrete, and above it loomed the dull gray and orange walls of the gym. The official Gym logo hung above the doorway.
Ivory took a step forward, and the automatic door slid open.
They stepped into a large, spacious room, with ceilings that went what looked like a hundred feet high. There was a big rocky field in the middle of the room, with raised seats for spectators to the left and right. The seats were mostly empty, aside from a couple bored-looking people. The Gym Leader was standing in the middle of the field with crossed arms.
Ivory pulled out their Pokédex and quickly reviewed their Pokémon.
Tanesuke’s moves were Tackle, Growl, Leech Seed, and Vine Whip.
Torinoko’s moves were Tackle and Sand Attack.
Sasu’s moves were Poison Sting and String Shot.
Kokoro’s moves were Thunder Shock, Growl, and Tail Whip. | fa736af3acaa46b0bba57d9967ff13e3 | ['599c7022ca4c4234903612828ab6744f'] | They and Tanesuke strolled down to the Gym and walked inside, entering a dark, neon-lit room. It looked like an auditorium, with high walls arranged in a large rounded rectangle. There was a raised platform on the far end of the room, upon which was a velvety-looking sofa. A young woman was sitting on the sofa and absent-mindedly eating a bar of chocolate, her eyes closed.
Ivory approached the woman. “Hello—”
“WAH!” The woman startled and nearly dropped her chocolate. “G—greetings, Ivory Kuroi! I am Sabrina.”
Sabrina’s eyes opened. “I knew you were coming! I had a vision of your arrival… I have had psychic powers since I was a child. It started when a spoon I carelessly tossed…” She clenched her fist dramatically. “… _bent._ ”
“Cool,” said Ivory. “I’m here to battle.”
“I dislike battling,” said Sabrina.
“Oh. Okay.”
“But if you wish,” she continued, “I will show you my powers!”
“No, actually, I’m fine. I don’t wanna battle if you don’t,” said Ivory.
Sabrina blinked. “Oh… Well, alright, then. Uh.”
She handed Ivory a yellow, circular Badge. “…I will give you the Marsh Badge.” Then, she went back to eating her chocolate.
“Cool, thanks!” Ivory put the Badge in their Badge Case, bowed politely (Tanesuke bowed politely too), and promptly left the Gym.
“Well that was anticlimactic,” they said. Tanesuke shrugged.
“HEY! HERETIC!” a passerby said.
“Huh?” Ivory glanced over and dodged a flying Mentis Crystal. “Holy shit! You guys again?!”
A bunch of people dressed in ornate white robes were standing around the corner, leering at Ivory. One of them shouted, “THAT GYM BATTLE DIDN’T TAKE VERY LONG! DID YA FORFEIT, YA WUSSY?!”
Ivory took out their Badge Case. “No, I got the Marsh Badge,” they smiled. Then, they took out their Mentis Crystal, removing a glove. “…Not that that’s any of your business.”
They threw the Mentis Crystal, and it hit another crystal in midair. The two crystals fell to the ground, quickly losing their glows. Ivory dashed forward, grabbed both of the crystals, stuffed them in their bag, and ran away at top speed.
“HOW DARE YOU, HERETIC!” the cultists screeched as they took chase.
“Don’t you guys know any other words besides ‘heretic’?!” Ivory taunted as they ran down a crowded street, towards the Silph Co. HQ.
“THIEF! THIEF! THIEF!” the cultists began to shout.
“Oh, so you do~!” Ivory dashed into an alley, threw open a dumpster, and hid inside. It smelled horrible, and it felt like their left elbow was being pressed into a half-decayed corpse, but at least they were hidden.
Something banged against the side of the dumpster. Ivory heard a wailing sound.
_‘Oh shit, Tanesuke! I forgot about him!’_
Ivory kicked the dumpster open and jumped out. They came face to face with the ravenous rabble. “…Yo!”
The cultists gave an ear-splittingly loud war cry and charged towards Ivory.
Tanesuke leaped in front of Ivory and shot a white mist from his bulb at the crowd. Within seconds, they all passed out.
Ivory stood there for a moment, breathing heavily. “Holy shit, holy shit…” They clutched their chest.
They dashed out of the alley and ran away.
Ivory fled through the southern gate to Saffron City and squatted on the stairs. They looked out at Route 6. It was a small path connecting Saffron City and Vermilion City, with a small pond surrounded by grass.
After getting up, walking through Route 6, and evading the few wild Pokémon, Ivory arrived in Vermilion City. They put their glove back on and nonchalantly strolled down the seaside sidewalks.
“Jeez, today has been surprisingly eventful, huh…” Ivory noted. “It couldn’t hurt to make it even more eventful. Let’s go to Vermilion Gym!”
Tanesuke groaned.
“Yeah, maybe that’s a bit of a bad idea. But I don’t care! I’m feeling good! I’m excited! I just survived getting attacked by an angry mob! What the fuck has my life become?!”
They almost fell onto the pavement and started punching the ground, but they didn’t because they still had some sense of dignity.
They sat on a bench next to the shore. They got out a bag of trail mix and laid it next to Tanesuke. Then, they got out a bag of jerky and lazily started eating it.
The two of them ate for a couple minutes. The sound of the gentle waves of the sea served as a nice ambience.
Chewing on a piece of Tauros jerky, Ivory reconsidered their life choices. Well, more specifically, they reconsidered their choice of picking up that Mentis Crystal in Viridian Forest. They wondered if there was any way they could make Mentis’s cult stop hating them—and on that note, they wondered just what that cult _did,_ anyway.
_‘Am I ever gonna find out who Mentis is?’_ they wondered as they swallowed their jerky. They put the half-empty bag into their courier bag.
“Well… _Do_ you want to go to Vermilion Gym?” Ivory asked. “We’ll have to do it sometime.”
Tanesuke looked up from his trail mix, swallowed, and nodded.
“OK.” Ivory put away Tanesuke’s trail mix. They got up, and the two of them started walking to the Gym. It wasn’t hard to find—the Gyms in any city were purposefully designed to be as eye-catching as possible.
Vermilion Gym, for some reason, was oddly familiar to Ivory. They thought about it for a moment, gazing upon the tacky lightning-themed building, when they remembered they had seen it on an episode of _Trainer Nightmares!_ Ah, Ivory felt a bit nostalgic as they remembered seeing Rordon Gamsey chewing out Lieutenant Surge for forcing people to sift through his trash, which was not only unsanitary, but very humiliating. |
310d8ddfae9943eab7d7b8c4dcc1cfbc | ['59a2566e16014b70bc58fee38d1b045c'] |
Haste to the Wedding
**Author's Note:**
> This is basically self-indulgent tooth-rotting fluff I forgot I wrote but decided to put out into the world before I lost my nerve.
‘It’s simple.’ he explained, buttering his third crumpet of that morning’s breakfast, ‘We have a cheeky nip away when no one’s looking, and if they do come looking we’ll just say we were stressed.’
‘Dan, I’m stressed as it is.’ Phil poured his coffee, thanking the waiter who brought it, ‘I’d rather hold everything together and-shouldn’t you do it, like, after the actual marriage? Is this really a conversation you want over breakfast?’
‘It’s too late to be good Christian boys, Philip.’ Dan pointed the glistening butter knife at him, ‘So, I’m going to be sinful. And later I’m going to eat cake. You’re going to eat cake. We’ll be bloated, lethargic and cranky. If we don’t do it now, we’ll be horny, too lazy, and nobody will be happy.
‘You know I wouldn’t usually pass on anything but Mum and Dad will be down for breakfast, and Martyn someone was looking for me, but didn’t say who-‘
'Are you really going to pass a wank for meeting aunt Gladys-?’
‘Who the hell is aunt Gladys-?’
‘The aunt kind.’ Dan grinned through a mouthful of food, ‘All over here for our special day. I feel like a princess, eating brunch in a small country manor with my best friend slash knock out stud.’
‘Remind me why I’m marrying you again.’ Phil said tight-lipped, repressing a smirk.
‘Because you love me.’ Dan cooed then whispered, ‘There’s no escape.’
‘Oh.’ Phil giggled.
‘And it is your aunt Sarah, TBH.’ Dan rolled a few stray crumbs together into a ball before flicking it into his cup with the remaining dregs of his coffee. ‘Martyn mentioned it.’
‘Do I look alright?’ Phil decided to be honest, Dan looked up from his plate dark eyes flickering him over, ‘I don’t have spots, do I?’
‘Phil, you look as vampiric as always.’ Dan scoffed but reached across the table and stroked the back of his palm, ‘Everything okay? You’ve hardly touched your food.’
‘Little butterflies, and everything.’ Phil smiled peacefully then shook out the nerves in a long sigh, gesticulating his fingers with the motion. Dan slid a comforting thigh between his own beneath their table. Holding hands over greasy breakfast and playing footsie in public was unthinkable only yesterday.
Slow movements and casual gestures, to accustom those outside their circle to become familiar with their patterns. To allow themselves to become familiar with each other all over again, working from the beginning to reinstate what should be the foundations of a relationship.
There was never a coming out, there was only a gradual move towards an ultimatum. This day was them making a grand show of their affection to their mutual families, but a private thing none-the-less. A small wedding in a small, rural venue, but no secret, hush-hush locations on remote islands and wedding vows in Morse code.
The idea was: a wedding was a wedding. A piece of paper, _really_. They didn't really need it, but it made family happy. It was expensive, entirely unnecessary, but _da_ _mn_ Phil was confident about his suit and their flower designs pleased his inner princess.
Maybe people will find out. Nothing was to be posted online. Yet, even if they did, it wasn’t going to be a big deal. Life will go on. Phil could imagine Dan smiling and rolling his eyes on camera in live shows, people pestering they will ever show or tell them anything. _You don’t deserve it._ It was funny to think about. Dan was a simple man, after all. Phil absentmindedly ran a finger across Dan’s knuckle.
There’s also the fact that _this_ was the moment drilled into his head as a child. Marriage? _Marriage_! Something you’re meant to do. Everybody’s meant to get married? Find a wife, settle down, have a kid, have a dog, but it was something Phil never really cared for. Why did he have to do what everyone thought a 30-something year old should do? He was more content spending out his days being young-hearted, questionably hip, estranged without ever even realizing-!
And it was like what he said, they didn't _need_ to be married. Nobody needs to be.
But as he held Dan’s hand those thoughts seemed meaningless now. Time spent worried or frustrated was all a waste. It wasn’t something expected of him, no, this was a choice and as it turns out such a happy one.
And the choice was made by Dan himself, who said _Yes._
‘C’mon.’ Dan urged, staring him down getting giddier by the minute, ‘We’ll just say we decided to take a half-hour nap before the ceremony. We’ve everything ready, who needs three hours to try on a suit?’
‘Dan.’
‘And we can be a bit extra, you know.’ Dan giggled, ‘Lie and say we slept it out, turning up flushed and everything wouldn’t look so suspicious. Even then’s just you don’t want a proper fuck.’
‘ _Dan.’_ Phil was blushing now.
‘Yeah, what?’
‘Mum and Dad are over there.’ Phil murmured to the presence by the breakfast bar, ‘Don’t look.’
Dan was still for a moment, actually shrinking down into his seat, eyes flickering over. The Lesters were indeed ordering food and in near vicinity, they were turned away but there was no doubt that it was out of politeness to pleasantly ignore the conversation they didn’t wish to hear.
‘Aw, shit.’ Dan whispered, he slid his feet back from Phil’s and sat up straight. Still self-conscious and on “best” behaviour, despite the fact it was his wedding day. Kat seemed to take the time to turn back around in this moment, and spread a gracious smile not sure if genuine or forced
‘Boys.’ She said, ‘Did you sleep well?’ | 010b96b60c544692a4b7f6ae31660fab | ['59a2566e16014b70bc58fee38d1b045c'] | He hadn't noticed Phil had stepped forward until he did and was pulled into an embrace, he lifted his arms in instinct and buried his face into his warm neck, smelling the familiar after-shave and rubbed his cheek along the slight bristle of his despite being freshly shaved. He became distinctly aware of their family around them and breaking apart Dan blushed at the realization of the slight giggles of their little hug. Someone wolf whistled. Phil still held onto him, their hands together, they would not let go. There was no need to. Phil caught his eye and he melted under his gaze in that instance.
It was overwhelming but in the best way possible.
CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.
Oh, God. The photographer. He noticed Phil try and fail to hide an awkward smile as the cameraman did his dance about them. Dan leant forward into his space, ignoring everybody else in the room.
‘We did ask for this.’ He whispered, reassuringly, more so to himself. Being the center of attention, particularly centering around the part of his life he was most private about, was daunting. He was still one edge, despite everything. Phil’s fingers ate into his.
‘We’re going to look so awkward in the photos.’ Phil giggled. ‘More than usual.’
‘So, shall we begin?’
The ceremony went on as normal, with as little disruption as planned, until Dan leaned closer to him.
'Phil, I don’t mean to alarm you.’ he whispered into his ear, while everybody was distracted, ‘But you better watch out. The bloke is taking aesthetically pleasing pictures of your ass. I’m not complaining.’
He winked. Phil began to laugh and then began to choke. People noticed and he turned pink. Dan squeezed his hand.
‘Do you have the rings?’ the pastor asked. Dan turned to Adrian expectedly who had them proudly in front of him, Dan smiled and whispered _Thank you_ as they took them up. Placing them on each other’s fingers was surprisingly strange, grabbing another person’s finger and putting on a ring, it was awkward in a strange way.
But so was saying vows, saying how you would live with a person until they died, how you would stay faithful and love them. Phil didn’t know what was going on for most of it, Dan rattled off the speech with fervency, each word meant something, there was such passion in the words he said. It left Phil numb, each word sending shivers throughout his body. Dan's hands in his were an impossibly attractive weight. Looking into his eyes he couldn’t grasp the infinity, the depth behind them, and their softness. The beauty in looking at him, the overwhelming familiarity ingrained in his gestures and movements. His words in return were shaky, but not without genuine. He saw the way Dan chewed his lip.
‘I do.’ They both said, but nothing else could be said more. They seemed to be crying, but it wasn’t intense sadness they were feeling, and though people cheered and clapped for them, the music began, and everything was meant to draw together in a great cacophony of a final kiss-
It did not.
Their hands enclosed around each other’s faces seemed stuck, not even the closest embrace could break the moment. The closest intimacy they could truly share was examining and relishing in the tight control of each other’s gaze. It was when everybody else looked away and shuffle about, cough nervously and lose the seriousness and sincerity of the ceremony, that it broke.
Dan leaned forward and with a gentle touch pecked him on the end of his nose. Phil started crying a little bit more, then.
*
‘Are you hungry?’
‘I’m hangry.’ Phil said truthfully, shifting in Dan’s lap where he was being cradled, Dan’s hand rested gently on top of head. It felt so strange, being so close and cuddly in public, but everything left them on a high, their guard was lowered, and it was to stay, considering their isolation from the rest of the world and only exposure being to those they are closest to.
‘Do you think we should go socialize?’ Dan whispered, fingers running across the prickling hairs of Phil’s sideburn. Phil scrunched up his face a bit.
‘Nah.’ He shifted in his lap, ‘They can mix with each other. They all know us, but they don’t know everybody so much. Now’s the time.’
‘Now, this is why I married you.’ Dan laughed and Phil reached up and folded his hand over his.
‘I’m glad I found you.’ He admitted, ‘If you think about it, it could have been so easy just to have never met you in person. Maybe lost you as one of those internet friends that stops logging in and then ten years later you remember and hope they’re doing okay.’
‘I’d rather not think about it.’ Dan chuckled, a little darkly. ‘I already get existential about my career and who I am, if I start thinking about meeting you, and possibly not meeting you, and what would have happened and what would be different, then it would drive me crazy.’
‘But you know what, Dan?’
‘What?’
‘I have you. I actually have you.’
‘We’re being so corny.’ Dan admitted, Phil laughed at that, in agreeance, ‘Not to ruin the mood, but we only get this gushy when we’re drunk, or in bed.’
‘Never too late.’
‘For what?’
‘Like you said. Sneak away for a bit. Just you and me.’
‘Why be so subtle.’ Dan laughed, ‘Just say go fuck, go fuck behind some hedges or something.’
‘Ew, no, Dan.’ Phil fumbled in Dan’s lap and turned himself around and looked him in the eye, ‘I support your kinks but public sex in front of my family is something that would haunt me for the rest of my life.’
‘Too true, but I’m never opposed to the idea.’ Dan winked at him as Phil scoffed. |
c4cb360ada7248b185d05350c2443a89 | ['59a9428f18a64c2b93d12f23213b2bf2'] |
1. Escape (Part 1)
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
Rey regained consciousness as she remembered how WAY too many things happened all at once a few minutes ago.
First, Ben- wait. No. He doesn't serve that name anymore. Kylo Ren killed Supreme Leader Snoke, putting an end to the monster's reign.
Second, they fought together for the very first time against Snoke's royal gaurds.
Third, they engaged in a Force battle over Luke's lightsaber. But it sort of looked like he was reaching for her, not the small device. But before they knew it, a blinding light surrounded them, immediately followed by a series of loud noises and grumbling of sorts.
'What was that noise anyway?' Rey wondered. And she looked outside the window, and was greeted with a horrifying sight.
The Supremacy was in pieces. There was a huge gash in the starboard side of the ship. Alarms were sounding in all compartments.
"Shit!" Rey yelled. She grabbed the two halves of Luke's lightsaber and bolted for the elevator. If she was lucky, she could find a way off this death trap that was NOT the airlock.
Rey ran through the sectors and found a docking station for a TIE Fighter.
Rey rushed her fighter away from the Supremacy. The other Star Destroyers caught on quickly, and the next thing Rey knew, lasers wer flying like fireworks.
After a couple of hits, Rey managed to get out of range of the batteries. The ventral cannons wouldn't be any help now, either.
Rey, unaware that she was holding her breath, groaned in relief. The Resistance would be happy to see her in one piece.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Spoiler: Not exactly...
2. Arrival and Greeting
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Yes, the Resistance was freaking out... not about Rey though...
Unnamed Salt Mine, Crait
Rey piloted her TIE Fighter, which she somehow managed to steal, down to the surface. A horribly unwelcome sight greeted her. The once-prefty white surface of the field she neared was covered in large red scratches, and one particularly giant cater near her destination; a man-made wall in the side of a mountain range.
The Resistnce was there to greet her as well. Unfortunately, at a time like this, greeting meant getting shot at.
Rey managed to land her fighter, and get out, nd when they saw her, they regretted trying to shoot her. Rey was giving them all her death glare.
Poe Dameron was among them, but the moment he realized that it was her in the fighter, he ordered everyone to stop firing. He then took off running. After all, Poe was Rey's boyfriend.
Rey came running into his arms, as well. She really missed him. She missed Leia. She missed Finn and BB-8. She's only had sex with Poe once, before she left D'Qar for Ach-To. It was a feeling she's been dying for.
Luke Skywalker, who Rey was supposed to have with her, refused to leave Ach-To. He did managed to get a few lessons taught, before Rey left to support the Resistance. Rey realized that Leia knew something was wrong. She didn't have Luke with him.
Not good.
Rey decided that she should try to cross that bridge when she's in front of it. Right now, what was important is that she was safe. She was with the Resistance, and even thought the fucking First Order was near the planet, she was still safe.
Not.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Cliffhanger, huh? You're going to like the next bits!
>
> Yoda: Be patient you must.
>
> You: Why?
>
> Yoda: Enjoy the work even more you will.
3. The Revelation
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Leia questions Rey, but then all hell break loose.
Resistance Salt Mine, Crait
Rey held her breath as Leia, and Finn approached her, where she was talking to Poe and BB-8. This wasn't going to end well.
Leia frowned. "Rey, R2 and and Chewie won't explain this one damn question. I think you could."
Rey sucked in a breath.
"Rey, where is Luke?!"
Rey sighed. "Leia... he wouldn't come back."
Everyone else: "WHAT?!"
Rey: "He told me that he didn't want to cause the harm he did before! He told me he was the one at fault for the First Order! For Kylo Ren! For all of this!
"So had taught me a few things about the Force. He told me he wasn't the last Jedi! He said I was the hope. Luke said he wasn't!"
Leia paused for a minute as the whole base went dead silent. She shook her head. "Rey, that's bullshit."
Poe was shocked at her rude reaction. "What?!"
Leia snapped "Luke would want to FIX the mistake he made. But now he doesn't? That's just crap. I know Luke better than any of you do. So don't question me..."
Poe's anger flared. "But YOU weren't even there! So how do you know these things. Oh wait, YOU DON'T!!! REY DOES!"
Leia glared at him. "Watch your tone, Captain."
Rey was dismayed. She decided to run to her quarters and cry. But then Leia yelled, And where do you think you're going?! Guards!
A trooper standing next to Leia quickly raised his blaster at Rey. Suddenly, Poe lashed out and tackled him.
"LEAVE HER ALONE!!!" Poe yelled.
But as Rey turned and continued running away, another trooper stunned her. Darkness consumed her mind as she slipped into unconsciousness, still hearing Poe struggle.
4. Escape (Part 2)
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Rey has been captured by the Resistance. Who will save her?
Resistance Salt Mine, Crait
When Rey came to, she noticed that her hands and arms were bound. She tried to break free, but failed. Then, nearby, a groan was released. Rey recognized that voice.
Poe Dameron.
"Poe, what's going on?!" Rey asked, panicking.
"Obviously, we've been captured." Poe responded.
"Can you break my chains off?"
"I wish, but I'm tied up, too." | 44a2f6f043dd414989ee0612f81f6bb3 | ['59a9428f18a64c2b93d12f23213b2bf2'] | Rey gasped. Why the hell would the Resistance capture her and Poe? Then she remembered: he tried to hold the troopers off so she could hide. Rey decided that they would wait a while for answers. In the mean time, they're locked their cell. But Poe wanted to get Rey out of there. She doesn't deserve this treatment. She should find somewhere safer. Here, it was the direct opposite.
Suddenly, the door swished open. BB-8 appeared. He beeped frantically and shocked the security system, releasing the two. BB-8 repeated his message. He's helping them. There was a T-65 X-Wing Starfighter in the bay, and it was ready for takeoff. All they had to do was get to it.
Rey and Poe ran out of the cell, followed by BB-8.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rey burst into the hangar sprinting. A couple of troopers noticed, but were knocked out by Poe, who found a loose blaster. But then alarms blared. "JAILBREAK!! JAILBREAK!! ALL HANDS TO HANGAR BAY!!" Trooper grabbed their guns and sprinted after the three, not bothering to check if their weapons were set to stun.
"GO, REY, GO!!!" Poe yelled as he took cover and returned fire to the troopers.
"Poe... I-" Rey started. Then, a rocket whooshed towards Poe's hiding spot, meeting it's mark before Poe could escape. The explosion took Poe into a blazing and fiery doom.
"POE!!!!! NOOOO!!!!!! Rey screamed in horror and rage.
The troops turned on her.
With the speed of starlight, Rey took off in her fighter, avoiding the lasers shot by the Resistance. She sped off into space, away from Crait. Unfortunately, she was also heading straight towards the First Order Fleet. |
fb0cf6bcac424362b1708244d43ebfa5 | ['59c323b31cba4843986ce09278b7f19f'] | This is different, he thinks immediately, pushing down a pesky little twinge of irrational guilt. He came freely to me. He really wants this.
This is undoubtedly true, but Jim still has to lean back and push the kid away a little, search his face for clues as to the emotional weather of the convoluted mind behind it.
"Come on, Jim," Sandburg says, managing to sound worried and horny and annoyed at the same time. He's frowning, but underneath the frown is the rosy flush of lust. "You're not having second thoughts, are you, man? Don't bother having any on my account. I'm okay." He pushes his hips forward, and Jim can't hold back a growl. "I'm really, really okay with this, okay? In fact, I'm so okay now it's almost freaky. I mean, just, like, minutes ago, I was thinking about - I'm thinking about it right now as well, truth be told, and that's the beauty of it - thinking about having that asshole's brains all over my face, you know?"
"Shit, Sandburg!" Jim pants, disturbed and plenty grossed out, but still completely unwilling to let go and have a conversation about brains, psychos, guns, or anything else that doesn't count as pillow talk.
"No, no, no, Jim," the kid's saying, all the time keeping up the hip-thrusting with natural ease, as his decidedly weird mind is working on apparently wholly unrelated topics. "You see, it's all good, man. I'm basically remembering what the stuff tasted like - oh shit, man, I'm gonna lose it, just gimme a sec - and, as you can probably see for yourself, it's not putting the slightest dent in my libido."
"What's your point, Chief?" Jim hisses between clenched teeth, because Sandburg sure as hell isn't the only one about to lose it, and damnit if they're going to sit here and come in their pants like a couple of drunken teenagers.
"My point, Jim - do you think we could, like, lose some of our clothes here, man? - my point, and I was coming to it, really I was, is that I'm okay. That's what you wanted to hear, right? I'm maybe not great, although I must say I'm approaching that as I speak, and I can't say I'm completely, one-hundred-percent sane at the moment, but I'm okay, and things are going to get better, even better. Hmm, yeah - I think the insanity thing can be put down to rampant hormones rather than trauma...What do you think it means when all the grey turned pink? Oh, man, rainbows and things... There's, like, a really funky study to be had of this shit, you know. Post-traumatic boinking. Don't worry, by the way, it's not just PT, I've wanted to do this boinking part for a long time now- ooh, couldn't think of how to break it too you, though. Guess we worked that part out all right--"
Jim stopped listening roundabout the part where the topic veered to the shedding of clothes, and he's working on Sandburg's shirt buttons, letting the words become a comfortable sonic wall to rest his ears on as he indulges his other senses. Funny how smell and taste become so much more important as soon as the sexual cylinders fire up. Jim figures it's all part of the whole genetic throwback deal, although, if this is what it's like to be a cave man, he's really sorry about flying off the wall with Sandburg back then, back then in the beginning.
The shirt comes off, and Jim can bury his face in the hollow of Sandburg's throat - salty, sweet, a trace of something he can't name but recognises as the personal chemistry of the man in his arms. There's the pulse point, fluttering under the slick skin like a moth banging against a window, synchronizing touch to the sound of the heartbeat.
Sandburg's still talking: "--didn't think it would be, you know? Never thought, never never - but here we are, and, man, I'm feeling no pain. I probably should, right? There's that wound, right, but I'm like, hey, what fucking wound? No pain, no pain at all. --Hey, Jim, tell me if I'm bugging you with the commentary, okay? 'Cause, sometimes I get complaints, right, some people can't dig this talking in bed deal. And I can really - aaah - sympathize, but my brain and my body and my mouth are always going down completely different tracks so it's not like I do this on purpose. I had this girlfriend once who got me into bondage just so she could gag me. Fucking excruciating, but kinda fun too, in a really kinky way - you'd look great in leather, by the way, Jim, I can just see it--"
"Don't even think about it, Sandburg," Jim interrupts, before the brain or the mouth - or whatever part of the kid it is that came up with that idea - gets too detailed. A good way to shut him up - gentler and more considerate than using a gag, at least - is to find his mouth (that constantly talking, beautiful mouth) and take it and use it and, yeah, okay, devour it, although that always sounds too much like something out of a Victorian pornographic story. Call it what you may, it works delightfully, and Jim forgets about bondage and too-tight jeans for a while and just enjoys his foray into Sandburg's mouth.
When he's good and done, Sandburg is panting and heaving, and it's probably time to take this show on the road. Jim grabs two handfuls of lovely ass (for a good, tight hold, of course. And to cop a feel.) and flips Sandburg down on the sofa. There's a muted "oof," and then the kid is utterly silent, wide-eyed and silent, while Jim pulls off whatever remains of their clothes and lies down to cover him with his own body. | 8d0c85ef6c9c49c1a009d77a1a5c7d56 | ['59c323b31cba4843986ce09278b7f19f'] | George smiles kind of hesitantly. "Okay." He seems to have lost all determination to Have A Talk, like he thinks maybe he'll make Frank spew _blood_ or something with a harsh word. It kind of makes Frank want to talk just out of contrariness. He's hungry now, and thirsty, and still a little tired.
"Okay," he says. "Three guesses, dude. What's wrong with me?"
"What?" George says. Another glacially slow frown is spreading over his face.
"Hey, I'm giving you a total prompt here," Frank says, fighting himself upright, a battle with the tempting softness of the cushions. "'Cause you're being a sport about me getting vomit on your shoes. Three guesses, come on."
George leans forward a little and looks at him, like, really looks at him as if the answer is printed in tiny text on Frank's forehead or something. "Fair enough," he says after a while. "Guess one... trouble in school, and you're afraid of going back, and it's making you lash out. I'm starting with the obvious ones," he adds.
"Fuck no," Frank says. "I can handle school." It's only half a lie. He'll get stomped as usual and it'll be a drag and kind of hell, but it has hardly entered his mind in the past month or so. He can deal with that bullshit, it's not even important.
"Hmm," George says. "Was I even close? Warm or cold?"
"Kinda lukewarm... ish. Lakewater-warm. I don't care about school."
"Okay. Guess two. Um, guess two..." He's making the same thoughtful faces as he does when he's playing Scrabble. Then he has it, and the expression solidifies into this kind of mild concern. "Guess two, sexual identity."
Frank knows he hasn't moved a single face muscle, but he thinks he might have given it away with how it takes him like a second too long to react. He's still cycling through options when George says, all careful and neutral, "You don't have to tell me, Frank."
The fucker is totally smarter than he looks. Frank's stomach twists again, just a little warning squeeze, all watch it, I can still erupt.
"I'll just--" George says, making like he's going to sneak out.
"No, wait," Frank says, waving his hand. "I'm not that much of a fucking pussy."
George just waits, all patient and shit, all 'here is my listening and understanding face.'
"You know Mom would freak out, right. I mean, seriously, terminally freak out."
"I believe you're right," George says carefully.
"So this is absolutely one hundred percent between us." This is so stupid, he thinks. This is like jumping off a bridge trying to hit an air mattress in the water level stupid. "Seriously, she finds out, I run away. I'm not going to fucking deprogramming camp."
George looks kind of taken aback there. "She wouldn't--" he goes. He's obviously a fucking liberal Catholic. Frank's never really paid attention to Mom and George's talks about, like, politics or whatever. They must have them, right? Does Mom even realize she's hooking up with a liberal?
"I'm not sticking around to find out, dude," he says. "She's an old-fashioned kind of chick, you gotta know that."
George is rubbing his stubble like he's trying to play shrink for real. "Perhaps," he says.
"Plus, that's not the actual problem anyway, it's just the beginning," Frank says. He feels strange and floaty like he's been filled up with bubbles. Nothing really hurts right this second except his head a little. He doesn't feel very _well_, though. "Wanna spin the last guess while you're winning?"
"Love," George says immediately.
"You're a fucking genius," Frank says. He fights the bubbles and gets to his feet. He needs a proper nap so bad. "That's all I'm gonna say about that. Thanks for the chat," he tells George and slaps him on the shoulder. Fucking surreal. The whole house is starting to look weird to him now. George looks like a stranger, like someone who doesn't even belong in this time, like a time traveler from somewhere in the past, dressed up in jeans and a t-shirt but fooling no-one.
He forgets to skirt the gross stain in the hall, and it's when he puts his foot right in it that he notices that George has taken his shoes off. His sock gets a little soaked but hopefully it's mostly coffee and not so much barf.
When he gets up to the top of the stairs he's lightheaded and winded. Jesus Christ. He fights his way out of his pants and his stained church shirt and tie--George has loosened the tie, too, it seems--and falls face down onto his bed and just barely has enough consciousness left to crawl under the sheets.
***
When he wakes up he's just come in his shorts but he can't remember what he was dreaming. Outside it's raining. He can hear it lashing the window panes and rattling on the roof. It's night and the only light in the room is lamplight from outside, shredded into tatters by branches and filtered through the curtains . His body feels slow and heavy, enjoying some nice post-fuck drowsiness, but his brain is weirded out because it feels like he should know what was going on. He's had like fifty bazillion sex dreams in his life--seriously, there was a time where he was changing sheets every night and it wasn't that long ago--and he usually doesn't remember them very well, it's totally standard, so what is his deal now? There's a nugget of panic growing somewhere in the back of his head.
He finally convinces his limbs to move and squirms out of the soggy underwear. He's still totally more than half hard and everything on him, even his stomach, the traitor, feels pretty much okay. |
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