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f241023bee78405b932026021cf80d24 | ['59ec819d8aa24f9496f37b8f292984f0'] | One of the guards walked behind her, and she heard his zipper go down. She didn't see his cock, nor have time to see it before she was spat on her arsehole and his cock entered, slowly and tenderly. It was like the guard was her lover, being gentle and trying not to cause too much pain. He entered her tight arse very slowly, enjoying her tightness, hearing her moan softly - he knew she was enjoying it! He suddenly punched her left side of her ribs and pushed his cock inside her. It didn't feel as big as the other two she had had, but it was still over six inches. He got all of his cock inside her and then left it there for a minute. She felt him lean forward and whisper into her ear "I've taken viagra, so you're mine for at least an hour bitch!" but Alex was still trying to locate peoples accents and maybe catch a name, his accent however sounded so normal, borderline generic, that she had no idea as to where he was from, then her concentration was broken when he suddenly pulled out and pushed back into her with the greatest amount of force, pushing her forward and hitting her head on the floor. Her vision became blurry as he fucked her violently, and suddenly she was sucking on another cock, she didn't see it due to her vision but it was MASSIVE! Slightly smaller than the Yorkshireman's if not the same size. Her mouth became another hole for these bastards along with her arse, normally she wasn't enjoying anal, but her rapist made her so wet, not just the one in her arse, all her rapists had made her wet and the Yorkshireman had made her cum around his cock! She would never be able to be seen again in London!
Alex Drake began to enjoy her current rapists and began to moan "Hey she's enjoying this!!" one shouted, "Good, I'm gonna join in too, pal"." the Yorkshireman said, and positioned himself under the DI, lined up his cock to her pussy once more and thrust inside, Alex screamed onto the mans cock, but he only felt the vibrations from her vocal cords and made him cum instanlty, she knew better than to cough it up this time and swallowed what felt like two litres, "You little cunt! You're a good swallower ain't ya?!" the man said pulling out to slap his cock on her face, coating her face with excess cum.
2. Escape?
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Alex Drake makes a break for it, but the woods are a dangerous place to be for a sexy, cum soaked police officer, running naked from horny rapists.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So I'm back, I'm currently working on Psi Judge Anderson, but this work seems to be going slower as I'm trying to keep it interesting while you wank about your favourite Fem Copper being brutally raped.
>
> I won't write anything I wouldn't read.
Chapter 2 -
Her face covered in cum, Alex Drake, had enjoyed the rape that she had endured but she needed to get away or call for help. As the day went on she was repeatedly abused, at random times someone would enter the room and fuck one of her holes. Her arse was used the most and at one point she had the Yorkshireman come in, fuck her arse with his giant cock and he then proceeded to tattoo her lower back. "What did you do?!" Alex screamed in agony, "Nothin' much love, just a nice tatt that says SLUT HOLE NEEDS USING. Hope you don't mind." Alex panicked, she now officially had a tramp stamp, and would need a real tramp stamp to cover that one.
The Yorkshireman left and Alex cried on the floor. Eventually she regained enough strength to start planning. The rapists never closed the door to her room, "If I can get free, then I can get out of here." she thought, she furiously struggled at her bindings around her wrists, pulling and tugging. It took her half an hour to get her arms under her feet and in front of her, "Now I just need to bite the zip ties apart." unfortunately there was three seperate zip ties around her wrists, and it was going to take too long. Alex decided to stand up and start leaving. She snuck up to the door, naked, covered in dry cum, sore from the brutal and relentless fuckings and what was worse, she enjoyed it. Alex edged out of the door looking left she was met with a wall, to her right was a guard at the far doors looking away, but before him was a junction going to the left "That's my best bet." thinking again. She crept forward down the mirky corridor, walls covered in rust and the floor full of cold water puddles surrounded her feet making her need to piss so badly. She couldn't afford to stop to do it, so Alex decided to hold it in for as long as possible. | d062a5dc300a466faa6f088d5ee52e28 | ['59ec819d8aa24f9496f37b8f292984f0'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> So I'm more invested in this than my other projects (Hannah Witton, Meg Turney, Barbara Dunkelman, Emma Watson, and DI Alex Drake) at the moment BUT THEY WILL BE RELEASED!
>
> Please enjoy my own story of Psi Judge Anderson - still in the works as of 17th June 2014.
Psi Judge Anderson - Mega City One: Mean Streets
Psi Judge Cassandra Anderson was now coming up for her third year on the streets of Mega City One and already she had made a name for herself and become one of the most reliable Psi Judges in the Department. Her first case was relatively boring, read a perps mind and find out where the kid was that he had kidnapped. As her cases progressed they seemed rather stale, always read someones mind and solve the case for some Rookie Street Judge to take the glory. But when the murders began and she was called by the famous Judge Dredd himself, she felt like she was out of her depth, and by Grud she was right. She was so nervous that she cracked a joke when they met and she instantly learned that the rumours of the man were true.
He had no sense of duty and the only important thing to him was Justice, Duty and the Law, but what do you expect for a clone of Chief Judge Eustace Fargo himself? Drokk, Dredd was so uptight with the Law that he had his own clone brother, Rico, arrested and sent to Titan, and when Rico escaped Dredd executed him for breaking the Law again. But that was not the major part of her biggest case, her major part was her encounter with some sort of undead corpse that had the voice of ice and face of... Death. The beast went by the name of Judge Death, and as the case progressed she learned more than ever before the extent of her Psi powers. Being able to capture Judge Death in her mind, she encased herself in the new craze 'BOING' and trapped him with her forever.
Making the sacrifice wasn't an easy decision for her to do, but when she needed to make the decision she chose right 'For the greater good' she told herself. Yet not long later some creep took a Las-Pen and released Death, not knowing what he was doing, and with that prompted the Justice Department to re-awaken Psi Judge Anderson from her BOING tomb. But that time Judge Death had some friends with him from his Dimension 'Deadworld' his oldest friends that he knew when he was alive. Judge Fire, Judge Mortis and Judge Fear. Again Anderson took care of the problem, with Judge Dredd at her side, and they went their seperate ways.
About that time Judge Anderson had become the most well known Judge in all of the City, as well known as Judge Dredd himself but not as feared, but Anderson always knew that no-one would ever be as feared by the innocent and the guilty in the city than Dredd himself. He could always find something illegal about a citizen, and that's what made him such an amazing Judge.
Judge Anderson had served with Judge Dredd on many occasions, the most recent for her was during the Apocalypse War where her, Dredd and seven others infiltrated a Sov-Block outpost, and fired all their Nuclear Bombs into Sov-Block 1 completely wiping it off of the map. Dredd ordered her and the team to surrender to Lord Marshall Kazan... This is where our Story begins.
CHAPTER 1
Psi Judge Cassandra Anderson was 28 and very beautiful. 5 feet 10 tall, Golden Blonde hair, 32D breasts, a waist of 28 inches and her uniform stuck to her like it was her very skin. As a Judge she was sworn to cellibacy from the age of 5 when she went to the Academy, and the 'urges' removed from her immediately.
While Anderson and her team were being escorted to the torture chambers, where she believed they would never leave, she remembered some cases she had done. At the age of 16 when all Rookie Judges were made to take the Hot Dog run into the Cursed Earth, her time was the worst it had been for three years. The Rad-Storms came in and made visibility near impossible, and half of the group got lost with no communication. As Cassandra continued to ride her Lawmaster she came across a Pre-War barn, "I can get warm and make a good stand if anyone attacks." She thought to herself, she drove up to the large wooden doors and dismounted her bike.
Pulling the Lawgiver out from the holster on her boot she walked forward and opened the door, immediately taking cover at the side wall "Is anyone in there? I'm a Judge from Mega-City One, and I need shelter for the night. Can I come in?" she shouted into the barn, her voice turned to whisper "For Gruds sake, don't let this become an ambush." she peeked around the corner and saw nobody, she ran in and took cover behind a hay bale "Great. Good thinking Cassandra, I could spit through this." She thought again. "Hello? I'm a Judge from Mega-City One and need shelter until the storm has gone, is anyone here?" she shouted even louder this time. But again there was silence. Pleased with no reply, she pushed her bike into the barn and closed the door. |
0d74596837bc4047bebd8c00a1163ddd | ['5a1af0c2cf854af48df13a65a57a6ede'] |
with friends like ours, anywhere is home
**Author's Note:**
> This is heavily inspired by wherehopelies' "Blow a Kiss, Fire A Gun (We All Need Someone to Lean On)." It's absolutely one of my favorite fics ever and when PP3 came out I immediately had an itch to see it through Emily's eyes. So, if you haven't read wherehopeslies' fic, I highly recommend going over and doing that after you're finished here. Anyway, here is a fic I spent entirely way too much time and effort on along with making it much longer than intended, but I hope you enjoy anyway! Title is from Another Night on Mars by The Maine
So maybe Emily should’ve been more clear about her old Bellas coming to _watch_ her and the current Bellas perform rather than come up and perform themselves.
It’s just not something she thought about, really; she’s been so busy between school and keeping these current Bellas in line that the thought that they all might show up ready to sing didn’t occur to her.
(They have cool, incredible jobs in the _real world_ anyway according to what Emily’s seen on social media.)
When she sees them in their traditional Bella outfits - which, _of course_ Chloe and Aubrey still have and still fit in perfectly fine - she panics.
(The “aca-scuse me” that Aubrey gasps doesn’t help. Like, at all.)
There’s an apology that rushes out of her lips, but it’s time to go sing so she begs them to stay.
“I’ll see you after,” she says, but it’s more like a question because wow there’s a lot happening here and she’s jogging off to catch up with the rest of her new Bellas.
Emily likes to think she didn’t hear Beca call out a reluctant “maybe” and even if she did, that’s totally just a joke, right? Like, Beca wouldn’t dip in the middle of the performance.
She tries not to let her face fall when she sees the utter disappointment on Aubrey’s face, the judgemental looks from Flo, and the fact Chloe looks about ready to cry during their performance.
She runs to the bar where the Bellas crowd afterwords, spewing apologies out of her mouth because geez, they probably all hate her. Chloe insists that it’s a good excuse to see each other, but when she asks for affirmation from everyone else, they all give her half-hearted smiles and mumble incoherent things that sound like false agreement. It makes Emily feel worse somehow, especially when Flo tells her that she could’ve been at her brother’s wedding.
By now, all of her old friends are a little bit drunk - a lot drunk for Chloe and Aubrey honestly - and then Aubrey’s suggesting they go on tour and sing for the military, which _what?_
(She also mentioned something about her dad basically killing Osama Bin Laden, but Emily’s not sure she heard that right so she doesn’t say anything.
Aubrey’s dad has always sounded a little scary, though.)
Chloe - to no one’s surprise - immediately agrees, drunk and still on the verge of tears every time she opens her mouth. Emily isn’t sure if this version of Chloe is scarier than crazy-eyed Chloe she saw throughout her freshman year.
“Well I suddenly have a lot of free time,” Beca adds after a beat. “So...hell yeah.”
Once Beca agrees, suddenly everyone else is chiming in. Emily grins. They’re all going to be back together and singing once again. She loves her new Bellas, she really does, but nothing will ever beat her first year as a Barden Bella.
“Can you fly when you’re eight months pregnant?” Stacie asks curiously.
Everyone looks at her weirdly until she reveals her stomach and suddenly it’s all squeals and “oh my gods” and “that’s eight months?!”
“You guys didn’t notice?” Stacie asks with a slight pout of her lips.
Emily thinks she’s crazy. Of course they didn’t notice. She doesn’t even look like she’s through her first trimester yet.
When everyone settles down Beca says, “Well Stacie’s out, so Emily, are you in?”
Emily nods. “Yeah I’m totally in.” She pauses for a second, realizing the odd nature of the question. “Was I not originally in?”
Everyone’s talking over each other again, reassuring her that she was _always_ included in the plans and she smiles.
“Make sure you tell our professors you’ll be gone,” Chloe tells her seriously before taking a swig of her beer, voice still thick with emotion. “And bring your assignments with you when we’re in Europe.”
Emily nods and mumbles a “yes ma’am” before shaking her head. Beca and Chloe have always been like her parents away from home. Chloe’s more obvious about it while Beca’s kind of like the quiet dad.
(She’d never tell them this though. Even if Chloe would think it’s adorable, she’s sure Beca would threaten to kill her.)
Beca snorts at the interaction. “She’s a grown woman, Chlo. She can do whatever the hell she wants.”
Yep, definitely like her parents.
But Emily doesn’t mind. She’s going to Europe for two weeks with her old Bellas!
* * *
“I have a job for you.”
Emily’s tired, not quite done packing, and still has to drop off her practice plans for her Bellas before she heads to the airport tomorrow, and yet here she is on FaceTime with Stacie, who called her out of the blue.
During Emily’s first year at Barden, Stacie had seemed to take a liking to the young legacy. She’s kind of like Emily’s older sister or maybe a cool aunt. She’s relentless in teasing the younger girl, but was always there to help her with physics homework or give her (very aggressive) advice on boys.
“What job?” Emily asks wearily. “The last time you said that to me, you were basically asking me to blow up the Bella house for your stupid graduation surprise.” | 851874913bd0478cbb43d5dcd541d181 | ['5a1af0c2cf854af48df13a65a57a6ede'] | _“I’m not!”_ Chloe snaps suddenly, cold and calculated. _“It’s just a little frustrating when my girlfriend is out hanging out with all these beautiful celebrities without even mentioning it in passing and I’m stuck in freakin’ Davis of all places spending my days with animals and old vets.”_
Beca frowns at that. “Chloe, come on. You’re doing amazing up there. I need you to know that. You know how proud I am of you.”
Chloe lets out a frustrated sigh. _“I’m at the clinic Beca, I have to go.”_
The way she says it stings Beca a bit, and she almost holds her phone back to look at it.
“Chloe-” she tries.
_“Bye Becs.”_
Chloe hangs up and Beca lets out a frustrated groan, throwing her head back as she slams her phone to the table.
“God damn paparazzi,” she mutters.
This is how she ends up in Davis almost twelve hours later, exhausted and barely functioning, but here nonetheless.
She’s got a couple of sunflowers in her hand - because Chloe thinks roses are a bit cliche - and too much caffeine in her system when she knocks on the door of Chloe’s apartment.
It takes a minute, but Beca hears footsteps and the door unlocking and she straightens up just a little when she hears the knob twist.
Chloe swings the door open, taking a second to realize what’s awaiting her on the other side. When she does realize it’s Beca in front of her, she blinks and her eyes go wide.
“Beca?”
Beca wants to do nothing more than sweep Chloe into a searing kiss, to assure her there’s no one else in the _world_ for her than the woman standing in front of her. Instead, she gives Chloe a nervous smile and holds out the flowers.
“These are for you,” she says hesitantly. “I - I stopped on the way here to get them.”
Chloe is staring at her as if she’s grown another head for an unbearably long moment before Beca’s being pulled into the apartment, Chloe’s arm effortlessly wrapping around her as Beca stumbles over her own feet.
Before Beca knows it, she’s kissing Chloe and she almosts melts because she hasn’t kissed Chloe in who knows how long, and her knees still go weak even after all this time. She wraps an arm around Chloe’s shoulders to hold herself up, trying to keep up with the way Chloe’s lips move.
Chloe suddenly pulls away, ocean blue eyes still wide as she regards Beca with confusion and pleasant surprise. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming back to California until tomorrow afternoon.”
“I’m technically not,” Beca confirms, a small smile on her face. “But I needed to see you.”
The way Chloe’s eyes light up at her statement is more than enough assurance that Beca’s made the right decision. Theo might scold her tomorrow, but she can’t find it in her to care.
“When you hung up earlier, that didn’t sit right with me,” Beca continues. “I...I love you, Chloe. I hope you know that.”
Chloe sighs, fond exasperation on her face. “Of course I know that,” she assures Beca. “It’s just so hard being away from you knowing you’re hanging out with people like _Haley James.”_
Beca chuckles softly, her hand that holds the sunflowers resting at Chloe’s waist. “Well, I want you to know Haley James has nothing on you.”
Chloe rolls her eyes at Beca’s line, but there’s a smile on her face when Beca says it. Beca grins widely at her success, pulling Chloe closer to her, hips touching.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Beca nods slowly, her fingers running up Chloe’s side until she’s able to wrap her arms around Chloe’s neck, keeping her close. She pecks Chloe’s lips softly before she says, “She doesn’t have your voice.”
A kiss on her forehead.
“Your eyes.”
A kiss on her jaw.
“Your smile.”
Beca begins to leave a trail of kisses on Chloe’s neck, and she suppresses a smile when Chloe tips her head back to give Beca more access.
“My bedroom. Now.”
Beca doesn’t need to be told twice.
* * *
Beca goes on her first tour and Chloe tries really hard to be available.
Maybe she tries too hard because she often falls asleep with her phone clutched in her hand, waiting for Beca’s post-performance phone call to wish her good night.
When Beca does call, she’s usually in class or at a clinic or with her friends.
They miss each other often, and texting is the best they manage at consistent conversation.
She’s doing well in school, and she’s working part-time at the clinic she once interned at. Aubrey visits occasionally as well as Stacie, and though it’s nice to see them, it’s hard because seeing them reminds her of Beca and Beca is - well, not here.
“Why don’t you go to her show? She’ll fly you out,” Stacie points out.
Chloe sighs. “Between the clinic and classes I really can’t afford to fall behind.”
Stacie frowns, nodding empathetically. “She misses you just as much, you know.”
“Yeah…”
Chloe thinks she knows, but it’s hard when Beca looks like she’s having the time of her life on tour. It’s hard when Beca calls too late or can’t talk when Chloe tries to reach her.
It’s hard when Beca can give people attention at her concerts, but can’t find the right time to talk to her girlfriend.
She feels like she sees her girlfriend more in interviews and clips from her shows and appearances rather than actually talking to her on FaceTime or just talking on the phone.
And Chloe knows it’s not Beca’s fault, really. It’s just hard to accept that this is they’re life right now, that this is supposed to be their normal.
* * *
**Beca Mitchell** **
** _iMessage_
Yesterday, 6:34 PM
Good luck tonight, I love you!!!
Today, 1:03 AM
i love you and miss you so much |
0f2fc49b02da4128be1f8c9ca3b8d548 | ['5a47e9aaa29a40f1ae72035e7099c97f'] | “I’d say he’s a Robot Master, but he seems way more advanced!” Blues shouts, anger and desperation surfacing in his voice. “This guy is no Robot Master! But that’s really not the point. To put it simply, he’s powerful, and I’m not sure I can beat him on my own. This guy’s a _ monster. _ I can’t take this thing on!”
With that, Blues abruptly ended the transmission, static filling Roll’s ears.
Needless to say, Roll’s hand shot to the phone faster than it ever had before, tossing Rock’s helmet aside recklessly. Cleaning could wait. For now, he just had to make sure that her brother was safe, above all.
2. warning
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> rock gets a pep talk.
Rock was sitting nervously, helmet tucked underneath his arm, while Dr. Light sat at his computer and Roll tooled with the inner workings of Rock’s free arm, the removed plate of metal that allowed her to see inside set on the rolling supply cart beside her.
“We’ve traced the signal,” the roboticist says, voice weary, and Rock immediately jerks up, leading Roll to almost snap a bundle of wire and tiny disc of metal. She starts to scold him, but shuts her mouth at the sheer worry and determination making itself apparent on her brother’s face. When she told Dr. Light about the transmission, Rock had immediately ported himself nearly right behind Roll and grabbed her shoulders, demanding to know if Roll had been told where exactly Blues was. She shook her head no, and her brother had started crying, wrapping her in a tight hug. The only thing she could think to do was assure him that Blues had a great sense of self-preservation. He’d figure things out, and find a place to hide.
Roll gently tugs on Rock’s arm and glares at him when he looks down at her questioningly, leading him to plop back down in his seat, bouncing his leg nervously.
“Now, Rock, we are dealing with a threat we know little to nothing about,” Dr. Light begins as Roll murmurs to herself under her breath. She reaches for a screwdriver on the cart and slips the tiny tip into the mess of wiring keeping Rock’s buster functioning.
“You must be very careful. Retrieve Proto Man, and bring him back here as fast as you can. Please, please, please do not fight unless you have to. I don’t want you getting hurt. You heard your sister- Proto Man said that you can’t fight this new Robot Master alone.”
Roll takes the screwdriver out and replaces a chip with another, one eye closed to make sure she placed it in the tiny magnetically secured slot. With that, she reaches to take the plate off the cart and slide it back into place, screwing it in with care.
“Just a new /something/,” she corrects. “You’ve seen Blues. He’s too stubborn to call for help. This thing must be really advanced and powerful.”
Dr. Light simply nods and looks back to his screen. With a few more quick bouts of typing, he rolls his chair backward, and finally stands, walking over to run a hand through his children’s hair.
“Remember, Rock. Your one and only goal is to get your brother home.” His voice is stern and firm, staring down Rock. He and Roll both knew that it was a habit of the bomber’s to overshoot his ambitions, often landing himself in danger or getting himself hurt. Sure, he had noble intents, but really, Roll and her father just wanted him to get home safe.
“Of course, Dad,” he eventually says after sighing, plonking his helmet into his lap and rubbing his thumb over the smooth blue metal. Roll can see his hands tremble slightly, and her expression turns to concern. She couldn’t even imagine what would happen if Blues was broken beyond repair by the time they arrived.
“No time to waste,” she piped in. Normally, Roll wasn’t this pushy, but she was just as worried about both Blues and this new threat as Dr. Light and Rock were. Two sets of eyes turn to her, and Rock nods, blue optics closing.
“Dad? The coordinates?” Dr. Light wordlessly reaches a hand out, and Rock hands the helmet in his lap to him. Dr Light reaches in, tooling with the inner functions.
“I’m going to program in the coordinates, so you can go there and back easily,” he begins, handing the helmet back to its owner. “Please, please, please be careful. I’m begging you. I don’t want to lose you or your brother.”
Rock nods, and takes a deep breath. Roll offers an encouraging smile, and nods.
He closes his eyes, exhales, and warps away in a flash of blue light.
3. crash
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> rock finds his brother. a robot contemplates things about himself.
The forest, at the very least, is an appealing sight.
At least, until, he’s startled out of his brief wonder by a thick, oily handprint pasted onto tree bark. The robot lets out a very un-brave _squeak,_ hands forming into fists. His right is enveloped by a buster materializing in a flurry of cyan pixels. Looking further into the flora, his optics focus on more pasted prints, accompanied by slowly increasing amounts of scattered drops. | 4697e8d13ef442caa5594c1892db8664 | ['5a47e9aaa29a40f1ae72035e7099c97f'] | **Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> thank you for being a meme and getting 30 on the pacer
“C’mon! Let me have a taste!”
Currently, Simon Snow was fighting to dip a finger in a bowl of icing that Baz had nestled between his own arm and torso, wings fluttering, and the latter was fervently shoving him away. Anyone who didn’t know the two would probably assume it was a full-on argument, or a sibling’s fight, but it really wasn’t even quite a lovers quarrel. This kind of playful teasing and fighting was typical in their relationship, and both of them knew full well there was no ill intent contained in it, no matter how aggressive they got, though it wasn’t like they didn’t have boundaries.
Baz momentarily took his hand away from the task of shoving Simon away to lift the spatula out of the bowl of icing and smack his boyfriend in the face with it, smearing chocolate frosting all over his face. Simon let out an indignant yelp and swiped some of the confection out of his eyes, glancing down at his now chocolate-covered hand. His fake pout quickly turns into a smile, and he glances up to meet Baz’s eyes before licking the frosting off his hand, then smearing the rest off his face and eating that too.
Baz rolled his eyes, setting the bowl of icing on the counter. “You eat like a pig,” he quipped, but Simon only threw a peace sign in his direction in response. Baz shook his head and returned to mixing the frosting, soon deciding it was done and sliding it out of the way. He untied his apron and folded it neatly on the counter, stretching his arms and sitting down on one of the stools set next to the kitchen table. The calendar had been marked in all the different tips of a multicolor pen, circled and highlighted with three colors of highlighter. Baz had simply marked it in black pen, but Simon had come back to decorate it himself, adding color to the plain black sharpie message of “Simon’s Birthday.” The sunlight streaming in through the window cast neat shadows on the hardwood floor, particles of dust glimmering in the shine.
It was quite a lovely day, embodied both in the weather and the occasion itself. A cake was baking away in the oven, coating the kitchen in the pleasant smell of chocolate and batter. The warm, peaceful aura of the whole place was a far cry to the terrible scent of moss and blood that the two had faced years ago.
That was behind them. They were happy now, and Baz was determined to make it stay that way. He smiled, staring out the window, almost lost in the gentle atmosphere. Until Simon leaned around and smeared a glob of icing on his nose, of course. He whirled with an indignant yelp similar to the one Simon had made himself when he was attacked with the confection, and Baz stood up so quickly it almost knocked the stool over, rubbing at his nose. Simon laughed and quickly raced out of the kitchen, socks causing him to slide on the hardwood as he used the wall to push himself faster.
“You dick! You traitor!” Simon only laughed in response to the insult, continuing his escape.
“It’s your fault for leaving the frosting unattended!” He looked back, winking with a glimmer in his eyes, and turned around, letting out a sharp yell as he nearly collided with the wall, slamming his hands against the surface to keep his face from meeting the same fate. Baz yelped and slowed down, but still ended up bracing one arm against the wall, face tilted back as to not hit Simon’s wings. They twitched, smacking Baz in the face (which he was at least 80% sure was not an accident) and Simon started to laugh again, despite having been about three inches from either a concussion, another head injury, or both. Baz only shook his head and stepped back- perfect timing, as the oven dinged from the kitchen. Simon eagerly pushed back from the wall, wings colliding with Baz again, and slid back off to the kitchen, skating along the hardwood like a child.
It was his birthday, Baz supposed. He could do whatever he wanted. So, with his own smile, he followed Simon into the kitchen, ready to pull out the cake with oven mitts in case Simon didn’t care to use them, which was expected. Burns weren’t his birthday present.
“Happy birthday, Simon,” he called out, which was returned with his favorite laugh in the whole world.
“Thanks, asshole.”
“You’re welcome, jerk.” |
ae494a46da1d49e7b7a7c62a4016442b | ['5a4b0ee5cb25438c9e5ad955649efba3'] | "No, it's not that I don't _want_ to, it's that I _can't_. It brings back... **bad memories** "
"I get it. It's fine"
_I have to know all about it._
Steve looked at him with compassion. His voice was just so...
_Ugh...Aaaah..._
A moan banged loud inside his head.
_Wake up!!!_
He nodded the barman to come closer. He left the drink in front of Steve.
"Ya know, I'm here to learn about some... ** _nerd_** "
The man seemed to understand immediately. He tried to hide it, and he did a very nice try. He turned his head around and shouted at another man.
"Hey, _Peter_ , can you take the bar? I have business to do"
The other man, called _Peter_ , turned his head around and looked at them both. Then he rolled his eyes and said "Ugh, _another one_ ". That made Steve wonder if the other officers who had come to ask about information had known the code word Steven had given to him. _And if they did, why didn't they tell me?_
It was long before he understood what Peter really meant.
The barman untied his working clothes and placed them on the table in front of him.
" _Come_ " he told Steve.
Steve followed him inside the crowd. They went closer to the DJ. The barman whispered something in his ear. Then the music went from relaxing to waltz.
The barman came closer to Steve and curled his hands around his neck. Steve held him from the sides of his back. They started dancing.
Steve couldn't understand the meaning of all this. They were dancing for quite a time, when the barman came closer to his face and whispered in his ear.
"If you wanna know about that politician, you'll have to do exactly as I say" he said, grinning.
Steve's imagination was wild at the moment. He imagined the man he was dancing with begging for...
... ** _more...please, more...aaaah...ugh..._**
He was confused, but he didn't refuse. Instead, he just nodded.
They stopped dancing.
5. Hostage
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> No summary, coz i don't wanna spoil it ;)
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Listen to the playlist I've made for you while reading this chapter (you may have to listen to it later in the story as well) so you get the right feeling. (they don't have to be in the same order i wrote them)
>
> The playlist:
> Billie Eilish - hostage
> Dean Lewis - Waves (Acoustic Version)
> Amber Run - I Found
> Chord Overstreet - Hold On
> SYML - Where's My Love (Acoustic Version)
> Dean Lewis - Lose My Mind (Acoustic Version)
> Jesse Ruben - This Is Why I Need You
> Lewis Capaldi - Bruises
> Jaymes Young - Infinity
> Jaymes Young - Feel Something
> Jaymes Young - Habits of my Heart
> Jaymes Young - I'll be Good
The man grabbed Steve's arm. He led him to a place behind the DJ, with nothing but a wall separating them from the main room.
He pushed Steve again the wall, his hands on the sides of Steve's _butt_. Their faces came **closer**.
Steve was _confused_. _Afraid_. _Worried_. His mind was stuck. Though his experience with perverts, he didn't know what this man would _do_ to him...
The barman licked his lips. They became red as fire. Steve relaxed a bit, but made sure not to show it. He didn't want to seem _weak_. Cold sweat was running down his chest.
They were both breathing _heavily_.
**Their gazes met**.
_Those eyes...Those beautiful blue eyes... **Just like Bucky's**..._
_Those eyes...They're so beautiful...They remind me of **Steve's**..._
They both knew they had a job to do. But they just...they had a moment. No one understood what they were doing.
_I'm engaged..._
_I'm a drug dealer..._
_He couldn't..._
_We could never..._
_No..._
Their lips pressed against each other. They stood still for a few seconds, eyes closed, kissing each other. They were both trembling.
Steve's hands went slowly from his sides to the barman's shoulders. For a second, they both thought he would give in and they would kiss for infinity. But he just pushed the man slightly. The kiss broke. They both bit their lips. The passion between them was only growing bigger moment by moment. Steve cleared his throat.
"If it weren't for the information I want, you would already have been arrested" he whispered.
"Why? Are you a policeman?" he asked, sure he would answer negatively.
_Idiot!_ he told himself.
"Uh, no...but i would call the police" he responded.
"I guessed so" He seemed disappointed.
Steve thought of the reason how he could ever possibly like a cop, especially since he was a drug dealer.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hope u enjoyed the smut (Ik, I've been waiting for it too)
> ;)) | a36af64d00464ab18cff4fbc7bd3850c | ['5a4b0ee5cb25438c9e5ad955649efba3'] | > I promise the smut begins in the next chapter :)
Steve was on his way to the bar, when his phone rang. He picked it up.
"Rogers" he said.
" _Hello, old friend_ " the voice sounded like it belonged to someone of great importance.
Steve couldn't understand who it was on the other side of the phone.
"Who is this?" he asked.
" _It's Richie_ " the voice answered.
Now he knew who it was.
"Oh my God! **Tony**!" He stopped walking and stepped closer to the buildings next to him. "It's been more than a decade!"
" _Yeah, I know. I remember the last time we saw each other_ " said Tony.
Steve grinned.
"Yeah, me too. We said goodbye at the front gate of the university" He was a bit confused "Where are you? Why are you calling me?"
Tony breathed heavily.
" _I'm currently in Nepal for some business. I've been informed that Steven's here too_ " It was clear that his smile had gotten bigger than they both could have imagined. It was a bit awkward. But they both knew the meaning behind this sentence.
Steve understood what Tony wanted.
"They won't tell you, right? And I imagine that you can't learn it otherwise, because it's police privacy..." he asked, though he didn't wait for an answer.
" _Yep, that's why I called you. He's your associate and bud. Please, Rogers, do me this favour and I promise you I'll do whatever you want_ " he begged.
Steve's mind went back to Bucky. So did Tony's.
" _I'll get my people search for Bucky again. As many times as it possible. Just tell me where Steven is!_ "
Steve was disappointed on Tony.
"What do you mean? Bucky is your friend! You won't search for him after a trade!!" He was angry.
" _Wait, what do you mean "is"? Isn't he dead?!_ "
Steve didn't know what to answer. He wanted to tell him to shut up, but he had manners. He was one of the richest people on earth, after all. And his _friend_.
"Ugh...Uh...Th...that...that's not the important thing" he replied.
He didn't want to remember that Bucky was dead. Or worse. He didn't want to feel that he was alive amd he would never see him again.
They were both confused. They were both silent for quite some time.
" _Will you tell me after all?_ " asked Tony.
Steve sighed.
"Fine. Fine! I'll send you the location he sent me" he said.
" _Thanks, bud. I owe you_ " Tony thanked.
"You shall pay your debt with not...hurting him. I want him tight and strong on his first day back to work. Don't tire him too much!" Steve answered.
" _Ah, bud you always know what's on my mind!_ "
They both laughed. Steve forgot about Bucky for a second, only to remember him a again. He ignored that kind of thoughtsthoughts .They wouldn't help him at the moment.
"I'm looking forward to see you, Mr. Stark" said Steve.
" _Me too, Officer Rogers_ "
Steve sighed once again.
"Well, I'll let you have your...adventure. Call me when you're all done and fresh. I wanna talk to Steven as well"
" _Sure thing, bud. Goodnight_ "
"Goodnight, Richie"
They hung up. Steve opened his mail box and sent Tony Steven's location. He received a heart emoji in reply. He grinned.
He continued walking on his way to the bar.
-
Steve opened the glass door and entered the bar. The lighting was very low, and that's how it should be. The lower, the better for Steve. He didn't want to get any recognition, especially since he'd been shown on the tv countless times.
He sat on the bar. His fingers hit the surface of it a couple of times each. He was waiting to find the man in the photo somewhere between the crowd. His head was turned towards the crowd, his gaze running all over the place to find that man.
"What can I get you, mate?" asked the barman.
Steve turned around quickly and looked at him.
_Oh, God. It's him! The drug deale_ r!
He remained calm.
"Is there anything light? I don't wanna get outta here not able to walk" he answered.
"Ya know, there is something I have suitable for you. You seem the kind of guy who likes _hot stuff_ " said the barman, grinning a bit.
Steve understood what he meant. He just ignored the comment.
" _Done_. I leave it up to you"
While the barman was making the drink, Steve was taking a look at him. He seemed very fit for a drug dealer. His hair more beautiful than the photo. Without the hood, he was even more handsome. Not that Steve cared, but he always noticed that kind of things. The first thing he noticed on him which he was not able to see through the photo was his metallic arm. He was definitely going to ask about it.
"So, uh, I haven't seen you anywhere around. Are you knew in the area?" asked the barman.
"Ugh, no, I just don't usually go to bars or drink at all" he replied.
"Oh, I see. Well, that explains why you know _nothing_ of drinks" he grinned.
Steve smiled.
_Can I trust a drug dealer to make me a drink?_
"I guess...You most definitely know" he said awkwardly. They smiled at each other. Steve felt like they had been friends, like he had known him for years.
He definitely wanted to know about that hand. "So...uh...How'd this happed?" he pointed at his hand.
The barman seemed very hesitant. He continued making the drink.
"I...if you don't wanna talk about it, it's ok" he tried to relieve him. The last thing he wanted was the barman not to trust him. So he tried to avoid awkward questions. |
5cf3180c24b247a4a0ddc8b69891ebd7 | ['5a5155755da54a8798da23f7ed5b0d6d'] | Typical beady black triangular eyes, they had eye bags underneath them. Black dark eye bags that looked like bruises. Her skin was pale and sickly looking maybe from stress, maybe from the lack of sleep. Or was she coming down with something?
Her headphone ears fell down by her shoulders and her ears were hidden by her usually neat hair, which had become something resembling a crows nest.
She needed to train if she wanted to get into Yuuei. If she didn't, well that wouldn't exactly be pleasant for her.
After washing her face and badly applying some makeup, she put the USB back in and browsed through the rest of the information. Robots, huh?
Leaning over, she grabbed the small purple notebook on her dresser. She could think of several ways to combat robots with sound. Maybe create sound waves to break them? Or make them vibrate using her heartbeat?
She would have breakfast later, now it was time to plan.
She was going to get into Yuuei, not because she wanted to be a hero. But because if she failed it would surely mean her demise.
2. The Ten Months
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Ten months is a lot of time to mull over what she is about to do.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I was so busy this week you would NOT believe, ugh, luckily it was the last week before Christmas holiday.
>
> 1861 words, more then I've ever written I think. Especially for a chapter.
Destroy the USB in 48 hours, read the text at the bottom of the files.
Jirou was pretty sure Enmity wouldn’t know if she had or hadn’t destroyed the USB. But Jirou was not going to take any chances, especially not around Enmity.
Pocketing the simple black stick, Jirou decided to head downstairs. Both of her parents were sat at the table and looked up to see her come downstairs.
“Jirou what took you so long?”
“Nothing just preparing.” It wasn’t a lie, more of a half-truth.
“Our little girl is going to be a hero, hmm?” Her father questioned.
“Well I figured since everyone is going to be applying there’s no harm in trying, right?”
“Honey, look at the time.” Her mother said as she placed a bowl of rice and a miso soup in front of Jirou.
Her father jumped up. “Oh, I need to set off, after all the roads during rush hour can be a real… highway to hell…”
“Daaaad….” Jirou moaned.
* * *
Jirou didn’t like the little texts Enmity sent her, they usually read a task which was anywhere from picking up a package or being a lookout.
Never any missions, but Jirou guessed once she was what Enmity called ‘a full member of the League’ she would receive those.
This text read something simple but threatening in typical Enmity style: _Make sure you destroy that USB, you don’t want to know what I will do if you don’t_.
Jirou dug through her pockets and found the small black rectangular stick.
She watched it break under the pressure of her foot, slowly cracking and crumbling like logs in a fire.
_Ten months to go until the Entrance Exam._
* * *
Jirou felt her headphones strain under the weight she was currently lifting with them.
They had definitely gotten stronger over the past month and she wasn’t going to stop there.
If she had to take down robots with these things then she had to train harder.
_9 months to go._
* * *
Her body was covered in sweat underneath her blanket.
She could hear her heavy breaths in the silent room.
Nightmares were not common for her but lately they had been getting rather frequent.
Always with her crying parents and one of Enmity’s long knives sinking into her throat.
_8 months to go._
* * *
She couldn’t stop thinking about it.
She would act the same as she did around her parents when in UA but what if she slipped? Revealed the stress from 3 years of being forced to lie and do the League’s bidding?
No, she was Jirou Kyouka, a hero hopeful who was unenthusiastic and made cutting remarks.
Just like she had been before she was pulled into all this League business.
_7 months to go._
* * *
She shouldn’t have asked Enmity to suggest possible people to train with.
Enmity had suggested herself, and started immediately.
Bile rose into Jirou’s throat and her stomach felt pummelled.
Her arms ached and throbbed. When she had finished gagging she looked up to the nonchalant green haired girl before her.
“I didn’t mean I wanted to train with you…” Jirou croaked.
Enmity laughed, “You really want to learn hand to hand combat or something?”
“Yes, I’m lacking on that and- “
“You’re not going to become a proper hero; you just need to use your headphones and spy for us.” Enmity sighed. “It’s not like you are going to be in the field.”
“But, when will the assignment end? If I suddenly leave in the middle of the semester, wont that raise questions?”
“No, we will remove you after our goal is completed, All Might’s demise, that is.” Enmity observed Jirou with cold emerald eyes. “You will request to leave the school which, after the death of one of your teachers, would not be far-fetched.”
Jirou opened her mouth to speak, but she did not know what to say, her usual cutting remarks vanished from her throat.
“Leave now, J, before the higher ups come, I assume they would not want to see their trump card lying on the floor beaten.”
_6 months to go._
* * *
“What is going on with you?” Tomomi questioned.
“You’ve totally been more closed off lately and what happened with all of those insult matches with Mio?” | b19cbc273b214e48aed0ef720796d7d3 | ['5a5155755da54a8798da23f7ed5b0d6d'] | “Kira killed the agents along with the criminals, that means he will kill anyone trying to find him?”
“Those three guys were right to quit!”
The air of desperation and claustrophobia in the room had merely been an undercurrent before, but now it was potent and unease began to settle onto the faces of the detectives.
Chief Yagami’s voice carried across the room, the men in the room stopped muttering.
Tomoko didn’t really listen but she caught the end of his speech “whomever is willing to sacrifice everything I’ve mentioned to fight Kira, be here by five o’clock when I return from my meeting.” She didn’t need to be asked to stay, she knew where she would be by five o’clock.
It was a surprise to her when she re-entered the room to see only six others in there.
Asuka and Hina, the only other women on the investigation team had resigned, making Tomoko feel like the token female.
She hadn’t expected Matsuda to remain in the task force or Aizawa for that fact.
Matsuda all but ran up to her. “Tomoko! I’m so glad you decided to stay!”
Before Tomoko could reply Chief Yagami came through the door.
He had a look of surprise on his face as he saw the small amount of people in the room.
“Only six of you?” He said in a shocked voice, then shook himself. “No, I should be happy that this many decided to stay, including me which makes it seven.”
Matsuda piped up in the corner. “And, Chief! There’s L, that’s eight and finally Watari, which makes it nine!”
L’s electronic voice spoke “It is only you with your strong conviction, that I trust.”
Aizawa grumbled and frowned then spoke. “Yea about L, he says he trusts us, but we don’t trust him.”
Tomoko bit her lip, it was an unfortunate truth, she didn’t trust L right now.
“Well, he would have access to all the prison information and any criminals if he wanted to,” Tomoko mused. “also pretending to be on the case would not only be the perfect cover but also pretty much guarantee that he wouldn’t get caught, after all he could make the case go on for years if he wanted.”
“There are criminal psychologists who say that L is Kira, that he has multiple personalities, and L ordered the FBI investigation in Japan, he would have known who they were.” Chief Yagami added.
At that the others in the room began yelling their own reasons.
“I think I would trust L more if I worked with him in person.”
“Tomoko is right, if you showed your face we would trust you more!”
Watari turned the laptop around, and the usual “L” symbol on it changed into a document.
**What happens from now on must be kept between the nine of us.**
“What? What happens from now on?” Ukita asked.
**Very soon I’m thinking of meeting you seven.**
Tomoko gave a small gasp.
_Meeting L... in person?_
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> It took longer to pick Tomoko’s name than it did to write this chapter, guess I have to thank Behind the name website for giving me that name.
>
> I found my name on that site too, apparently 32% of people think it’s a bad name? Sad :(
>
> Leave a review!
>
> Next chapter will be in L POV cause we need some of his thoughts in there too.
3. Face to face
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Disclaimer: No, I still don’t own death note, despite my wishes.
Tomoko’s heart beat was quickening as her and the remaining task force grew nearer to the location L had given them.
What would he look like?
Maybe older 30-40? Possibly younger?
L had been in action for about 13 years, right?
Unless he or _she_ , started as a child he would have to be at least mid 30s.
Tomoko’s thoughts were racing, endless possibilities on what the face of this mysterious international figure looked like flashed through her minds eye.
Before she knew it they were there, Tomoko had to remind herself that even if this was L, they were still a Kira suspect.
She had a glance around the hotel corridor they were walking down, it was clearly an expensive place, there were chandeliers hung from the ceiling and golden accented curtains framing the windows.
Tomoko allowed herself to mentally compare the posh hotel corridor to her rather cheap apartment complex corridor.
She didn’t get much to time to mull over it, however, as she heard the sound of the Chief knocking on the door.
A lone voice answered.
“I’ve been expecting you, please come in.”
Tomoko was at the very back, but even she caught sight of the lone figure standing in the hallway.
He looked young and had very pale skin, messy black hair and wide nearly black eyes.
His appearance was rather delicate yet somehow conveyed a certain strength that she could not pinpoint.
Tomoko didn’t like the shiver that ran down her back, she hadn’t expected L to look- _attractive_ , a part of her replied, _no no_ _no_ , she hadn’t expected L to look like this, _or is he really L_?
Ahead of her, Chief Yagami had taken out his badge and stated his name, one by one each of the men in front of her had done the same.
_Had they forgotten L was a Kira suspect, not to mention whether or not this man even is L?_ _Anybody can say they are L, it’s just a sentence._
Tomoko realised that she was the only one left and that there was silence.
_Well, might as well bite the bullet_.
“How do we know he’s L?”
There was silence from the men in front of her, an awkward silence.
Then L lifted his finger into a gun shape.
“Bang.”
Everyone jumped, Tomoko included.
“That’s not funny!” Someone half-yelled. |
422c1d1a773b463f981d913b23cec390 | ['5a58ff8afba94e63b1101e343b266974'] | As I shopped for them, we texted off and on .I didn’t know what kind of fruit Jazzy liked and things like that. I was half way through the shopping trip when the mood changed. He went from calm to slightly upset. He was thanking me for things that have happened in the past and telling me that he’s sorry that he doesn’t say it more. I don’t know if him acting like this was any of Lionel’s doing. Maybe texting is easier for him than talking to me.
The later it gets, the less and less texts come. And then there was nothing. I was thinking that he must have fallen asleep on me. That was ok he need his rest. I just hope that Jazzy was ok.
A part of me wanted to go pick her up and leave a message. I couldn’t help it I dropped off the groceries and headed to the hospital. I left him a note and grabbed Jazzy who was watching a movie on her phone. I convinced her that it was ok to leave and I promised that she would get to sleep in a real bed tonight at my place. I was hoping that the stalker would be more open to helping when he meets her. Only the most evil person would want to hurt a child.
On our way home, I grabbed a Happy Meal for Jazzy. She was starving. I’m second guessing my trip again. Crap, what if he doesn’t feed her? Well crap. I swear this is getting messier and messier. I’m sure she will be fine. I’m hoping At least I hope so. I look in the rearview mirror and see her chopping down on her fries happily. I swapped out my car for his car for tonight when I drop off the groceries. He gave me the spare keys so I can always get into take his car when I need to pick Jazzy up or something like that.
By the time we get to my place she is a sleep and so was Stalker boy. I give her a quick bath using the bodywash I bought today. She smells like a girl for once. I put her clothes in the washer before I put her to bed in one of my undershirts and then head to the shower to clean up. I make it quick, I don’t want to wake anyone up with the shower and I didn’t want to or leave Jazzy alone for too long. I quickly dry off, and get dressed and climb into bed on the opposite side of the bed from Jazzy.
It’s been an hour of tossing and turning with little legs kicking and flopping around when my phone starts to vibrate on the night stand. I turn over and reach for my phone.
“Hello?”
“Jude tell me you have her.”
“Yeah, I left a note.”
“Fuck, I thought they took her. God, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”
“She’s good, she’s asleep next to me. Who is they?”
“Can I talk to her?”
“When did you stop trusting me? She’s finally asleep.”
“I just don’t trust my life right now. It’s not you and you know it.”
“Who is they? Who would come and take her away besides her mother and myself?”
There is a moment of silence.
“Who are you worried about?”
“Child services.”
He says quietly like if he said it out loud that it would might bring them to his door. I can completely understand why he fears them. He was in the system for a long time and has been through a lot. I totally understand it.
“Speaking of that. You have to remember she needs to eat three meals a day and snacks you know. I’m glad I came and got her, she was starving. She ate a whole Happy Mean and that an old donut.”
He doesn’t say anything. He knows I’m right.
“Can I talk to her, please.”
I sigh heavily and pat Jazzy on her back.
“Jazzy, wake up, Daddy wants to talk to you.”
It takes a few tries before she rolls over and blinks at me. She stuck puts her finger in her mouth and moves closer to me.
“No, you can’t go back to sleep just yet.”
I hold up the phone to her ear. I can’t hear what he’s saying, I can just hear what she’s saying.
“Huh. Sleepy daddy. Good. Talk to uncle. ”
She pushes the phone at me and curls up against my side.
“See, I told you she’s good.”
“I know, I just wanted to ask her something.”
“Yeah yeah, this is your chance to get some uninterrupted sleep. Enjoy it.”
“You’re right. Don’t say it. I already know what you’re going to say.”
I laughed a little.
“What? I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“Sure you weren’t Jude.”
“Good night.”
“Good night.”
I hang up with a smile on my face. My boyfriend knows me so well. It’s a good feeling to have when you know that the person that you love knows you.
33. The construction of zero
32
Jude’s POV
I woke up to a knock on my door. I look around the room and I don’t see Jazzy.
“Come in.”
Stalker boy is standing in the doorway with Jazzy by his side.
“Missing someone?”
“Cereal? Uncle?”
She points to him. She is smiling with milk dripping off her chin.
“Did you say thank you Jazzy?”
“Yes she did, she’s a very polite little girl.”
“Good girl.”
She reminds me of her father standing there with a bowl of cereal in her hands and wearing one of my undershirts.
“I was going to ask if she yours but she called you uncle.”
“She’s Zero’s daughter.”
“Oh, so you babysit too?”
“I look at it as practice for my baby on the way.”
“Oh, you’re expecting?” | 64acf4006a874be99c10a3fff4fc0f9d | ['5a58ff8afba94e63b1101e343b266974'] | Gideon has hazel eyes like me that change colors when you change his shirt. His face is all me, dimples and all. The only thing that is different are his lips. He is definitely going to be beating them off with a stick. He has Zero lips and his feet, oddly enough.
As I watch my family play, I walk over to the gift table and pick up the last gift. It’s small and flat. I’m thinking it’s a book.
“So, are we going to open this one?”
He blows on the wand and Gideon squeals with delight as they fly pass him.
“At bedtime.”
“You are seriously going to make me wait even longer.”
“Yes.”
I run my hand over the smooth green package.
“You made him a book?”
“Yes, I made him a book.” He gives me a smile and blows more bubbles for Gideon to play with.
Well, it makes sense now. All the writing and the artist coming to the house. I can’t believe he has keep this a secret. I thought it was a calendar or something. I guess I was wrong.
“Can I at least open it and look at the cover?” He sighs.
“Will it make you happy?”
“Yes.”
“Fine, go for it but no peeking inside. I want to keep it a secret for a little bit longer.”
“You love teasing me don’t you?”
He smiles and winks at me.
“You know what, I’ll wait. What’s an hour?”
We spend said hour relaxing by the pool before it’s Gideon bedtime.
Bath time is quick. He is already sleepy from the party, I’m not sure he’s going to last through story time.
I pull out his new robot pjs and put them on. I hear Zero come in the room. I turn and see that he has his laptop with him. He starts to set it up in front of the rocking chair, on top of the drawer.
“Ah, what are you doing?”
“I thought we could call Laura.”
The look on his face said he is up to something. I shrug and decided to go with the flow.
The sound of Gideon’s voice makes me look at him in my lap. He’s making noises, like he’s trying to tell us to hurry up because he’s sleepy.
“In a minute. I’m calling Auntie.”
The familiar sound of skype flows through the purple and yellow pastel room.
We like to keep things as gender neutral as possible. We figured with the nursery that when we welcome our second child, we can either move Gideon into another room or they can stay in the same room for a while.
I slide to the side to make room for Zero to have a seat on our custom rocking chair built for two and a half people. This is our night thing, we read a book before bedtime.
All of a sudden Laura smiling face appears on the screen.
“Hey sis.”
“Hi.” I raise my hand to her and smile.
“Hey guys, how is my favorite nephew doing on his birthday?”
“I think he had fun today.” He tells her.
“Want to wave at auntie?” I ask Gideon who has crawled in to Zero’s lap and is sucking his thumb.
He is tired and getting cranky. So he just keeps sucking his thumb and hides his face in Zero’s chest.
“Aww, are you being shy?” Zero asks him.
“He’s getting sleepy.” I state.
“Gideon, get on with the show. I have been dying to see it.”
She is the only one that calls him by his given name. I’m not sure what she’s going to do when Gideon gets older. Junior? G? Or she might will keep calling him nephew maybe. I think that might be her way of coping with the situation.
“Here bud, want to open it?” Using one hand, he shakes the package.
I watch zero help him unwrap it.
The cover art is cartoon styled. The only way to describe: it is Doug style.
“The story of us.” Zero reads the cover and shows it to Laura.
I slight over as close as I can so I can see the picture. He opens the cover. The next page is a cartoon version of how we meet. There’s a simple map of the United States showing Cleveland and LA and a plane traveling to Cleveland from LA. On the bottom of the page, is a cartooned Zero with heart eyes talking to me who has a think bubble of dollar signs and a smiling sun.
“His name was Jude and he offered me the world.” He turns the page.
“So I packed up I flew far away.”
There’s a cute picture of Zero with wings and a bag in each hand flying.
He flips the page.
The next page has Zero in sunglasses standing next to a black limo seeing his name in lights.
“I came looking to make a name for myself…” He flips the page. “I found something better.”
This picture is of me and a shiny halo above my head sitting in my car. There is a banner attached to my bummer that says: Main number one guy, written on it.
“My best friend.”
I smile.
The next page shows me busy on the phone. He’s standing in the distance with a chicken, walking next to him is a dress and make up.
“I really liked him but wasn’t ready to say anything.”
The next picture was him sitting in bed with feathers everywhere and prison bars in front of him and in big bold letters: PR Prison.
“I got in trouble.”
He flips the page and I am in a Superman suit with a 0 on my chest instead of a S. Zero is in a tree needing to be rescued.
“Still team Zero? Yes.”
He flips the page after showing it to Laura. |
8b10dcacc4244c219618d604fcefa69a | ['5a75c763c7a9436387d00cb0dec8f745'] |
let me take you there
"I think you're bleeding on my welcome mat," Jinhwan remarks when the door swings open.
Bobby's leaning hard into Hanbin's shoulder, head tucked at a thirty degree angle against his neck. Their longboards are propped against the shoe rack. Hanbin drops his eyes to the mat. Bobby grins, slow and easy. "Should see the other guy, hyung."
"You mean the ramp?"
Hanbin lets out a gusty whoof of laughter. Bobby shrugs, sagging further into Hanbin's weedy frame, and pretends to think about it. "There may or may not have been a ramp involved."
Jinhwan sends him a Look. Bobby just keeps grinning at him. The only way he'd look like more of a scrappy Labrador would be if he lolled his tongue out and panted. Hanbin straightens, hefts Bobby's weight a little, as if to say _I could stand here all night supporting this guy, but that doesn't mean I_ want _to_. Jinhwan shakes his head, shuffles aside, and says, "Come on in."
✧
"Idiot was trying to do a half-cab kickflip on a staircase railing," Hanbin says, after he deposits Bobby on the narrow couch in the living room and folds himself into Jinhwan's armchair. The king, holding his court of judgment, has come to find Bobby lacking. Jinhwan hums and flips his first-aid kit open. He's long since given up trying to decipher their skater lingo, but the reproach in Hanbin's voice gives the proclamation a little more meaning.
Bobby sniffs. "As I recall, you were very supportive at the time."
"That was before I remembered to account for _the rain_."
Jinhwan breaks their half-hearted glaring contest by lifting Bobby's shirt to assess the damage. There's an ugly purple bruise staining the skin stretched over his last three ribs, long and neat, running right across his torso in a straight line, as if he'd caught a pipe to the diaphragm. The staircase railing, Hanbin said. Bobby sucks air in between his teeth when Jinhwan reaches out to probe it.
Hanbin mumbles something under his breath that sounds like _serves you right_ but could also probably be _is he alright?_ Jinhwan almost snorts, but catches himself. "Pants off," he says, giving Bobby's stomach a perfunctory pat.
"Sure thing," Bobby says, somehow more cheerful than smarmy, and shimmies out of his baggy jeans. The ghost of a wince passes over his face.
A nasty scrape blooms across Bobby's left shin, right beneath the nasty scar he'd gotten trying to do a wheelie on Jinhwan's bike during his second year of high school. The blood's pretty much congealed by now, dark brown clumped up along the edges of the cut and trickling down to disappear beneath the tongue of his puffy high-top. "That'll never come out," Hanbin says, decidedly mournful.
"I'll buy you a new pair," Bobby promises. It cuts off into a hiss when Jinhwan starts sponging the cut clean. "Fuck. I'll never get used to the sting."
Jinhwan applies more casual pressure and raises a dispassionate eyebrow at Bobby's betrayed expression. "Maybe, in the future, you should consider making decisions that won't inevitably end with this."
He remembers Hanbin at fourteen, covered in dirt after a night out with his new friend Bobby-from-America, hobbling home from the skate park in Dongdaemun. Jinhwan had already been living with Hanbin then, after Jinhwan's mother decided that an education in Seoul would be better than one in Jeju and sent him off to live with a family friend. Bobby-from-America came a year later, an expat from Virginia, whose parents had decided to move them all back to the motherland. "It's not so different here," Bobby had said, watching Jinhwan unfold medical gauze for the first time. "Where there are people, there are places to skate."
"Shh," Hanbin said, keeping watch at the door of Jinhwan's room. "You'll wake them up."
Those were the days when Hanbyul needed a nap every two hours and all of Hanbin's mother's attention. So, out of necessity, Jinhwan got really good really fast at treating all manner of skateboard-related injury: kept the medikit stocked with thick cotton swabs and clean hand towels, tucked ice packs behind the chicken in the freezer. Memorized the curvature of Hanbin's shoulders, and Bobby's knobby knees, and patched them back together.
The one time he went with them—in third year, just to see what all the fuss was about—he remembers his heart caught in his throat as Hanbin teetered at the edge of a half pipe before gravity took hold, skateboard screeching against the cement, his shirt plastered to his skinny chest as the wind whipped past him. "We did good, right?" Hanbin demanded, after Bobby had taken his turn, flashed his colorful board, feet dancing as the wheels spun. Jinhwan had finally let himself breathe when they were both on the ground once more. "Yeah," he replied, ruffling Hanbin's windswept hair. "You did."
Now, in the dim lamplight, Bobby's grinning again as Jinhwan goes through the familiar motions of rubbing salve into his bruise. "But, hyung," he says, eyes disappearing behind the hood of his lids. "Where's the fun in that?"
✧
On second, more thorough inspection, Hanbin's got pavement burn on the heels of both palms. He tries to tuck them into his pockets but Jinhwan pulls them back out, sets Hanbin's hands face-up on his thighs and cleans gravel out of the broken skin before dressing the wound. Bobby's hobbled to the closet and gotten blankets for both of them by then, laid them out on the floor next to the foot of the armchair.
"Oh, come on," Jinhwan says wearily. "Take the bed." | 9c4b0613dfd14b55befa5296d1bf25d2 | ['5a75c763c7a9436387d00cb0dec8f745'] |
i see you shining your way
On paper, the YG Syndicate's regulations expressly stipulate that all starship upgrades and repairs must go through official avenues. _To make sure the tech is legit_ , Jiyong explained, when Hanbin was coming up through the Academy and didn't know any better. That was before Hanbin accidentally flew his ship into a Federation blockade for the first time and had to pay a literal arm and leg to repair his hull. Not his own arm and leg, of course; the arm and leg of a prenatal kaiju carcass floating off Tempora X, salvaged from the remnants of its unhatched egg during the last job he pulled, which would've pumped enough credits in his bank account to increase the balance tenfold. Total ripoff, but Hanbin needed a ship to survive, after all, and it'd been his only recourse at the time. Or so he thought.
These days, Hanbin can't care less if the repairman is regulation or not, so long as his ship comes out of it in working order. It helps, of course, that Jinhwan's the best mechanic in the business.
Which says absolutely jackshit about his working habits, because he's apparently sound asleep in the back of the shop when Hanbin manages to steer himself through the seedier outskirts of New Seoul and crash-lands in front of the hangar. A new technician Hanbin doesn't recognize, dressed in dirty overalls and a backwards baseball cap, sends him a toothy smile and hooks the ship up to the electrical loops of one of Jinhwan's maglev repair set-ups. When he leans over to inspect the hull, Hanbin catches a quick flash down the low neck of his overalls, down to the supple, even grooves of his abdomen, and nearly misses it when the technician says that Jinhwan would be out in a moment.
"I can't believe the authorities suspended my license over disappearing a stupid dog," Jinhwan mutters a couple minutes later, sliding through the door, a streak of motor oil decorating his chin. He yawns and leans in to study the port side of Hanbin's ship with a critical eye, runs a hand over the hull. "You'd think the Federation needed more working engineers than some prize beagle, you know?"
"I do," Hanbin says bracingly. "You only mention it every time I'm here. As if I could help you at all."
Jinhwan snorts. "You're the Syndicate's best damn pilot, and sajangnim's golden boy. Surely you could do _something_." Then, after blinking the last wisps of bleariness out of his eyes: "Hell, Hanbin. What did you to this poor ship?"
"Do I pay you to ask questions?" he asks without rancor.
"Ha-ha. You barely pay me anything at all." Jinhwan reaches for the wrench on his worktable and knocks it against the windshield. "Think about it this way. What if you neglected to tell me about a broken gear-spring in the extension mechanism and tried to fly this thing back out there? Or do you _want_ to drop like a stone after you hit, oh, five hundred feet—because the goddamn wings won't go out all the way?"
"Fine." Hanbin fiddles with the cuff of his sleeve and sighs, starts counting off on his fingers. "The navigation system totally gave out halfway between Jupiter and Saturn. Luckily I've been here often enough, and managed to find my way. And I have no idea what's going on in the combustion chamber. I don't know how the hull avoided the damage but thank God for small miracles, I guess. It's the whole bottom of the ship that's the problem."
Jinhwan flips a couple of levers and switches the maglev control panel on. With a tremendous groan, spindly arms attached to Hanbin's ship start tilting it over, an inch at a time. Jinhwan mutters a soft expletive as the belly slowly comes into view. "How did you not fall out the bottom on the way here?"
Hanbin just folds his arms across his chest. "Can you fix it?"
"It'll cost you."
"How much?"
"At least a hundred credits for the navigation system reboot alone."
"Come _on_ , Jinhwan. _Hyung_."
"Oh, please, don't try that," Jinhwan says, but his eyes are twinkling. "Spare parts don't exactly grow on trees, especially for someone whose license has been suspended for the past two years. And you know the Federation would charge you five hundred for the navigation system, easy."
Hanbin grunts, mulish. "That's—true. But then, I'd have guaranteed quality."
"That hurts," Jinhwan returns, shaking his head. "Have I ever let you down?" He sees the look on Hanbin's face at that and grins a little. "Alright, alright—stupid question. But you trust me, don't you?"
"Against my better judgment," Hanbin says at last, and rolls his eyes when Jinhwan nudges his side with a sharp elbow.
"Bobby!" Jinhwan calls, stroking the smooth dip of the ship's cracked hull.
The technician from earlier saunters back into the hangar. His grin is toothier than ever. "What's up?"
Jinhwan tosses a wrench at him. "Get on it."
Hanbin frowns. "You aren't _seriously_ going to outsource this—"
"Bobby's a prodigy," Jinhwan cuts in before he can finish the thought. "He knows what he's doing. Plus, I'll be around the whole time, so everything will be fine."
Hanbin's considering just taking the ship back to Syndicate headquarters and paying all the exorbitant fees there, but Bobby's already clanging around in the mangled belly of his ship. Jinhwan's probably managed to charge his bank account by now, anyway, damn him. "Fine," he says. "But I'm staying."
Jinhwan just sighs, like he'd been expecting it—but then, it's not like he doesn't know that the _IKON_ is all Hanbin really has. "Suit yourself."
✧ |
e78930a9c3bd4d36a9aead90370b3aa8 | ['5a7d7756f345493d96f914b52d8d1ded'] | Of Doodles and Public French Dipping
**Author's Note:**
* Inspired by LINK by modmad.
> Written for LINK.
Zitao wakes up to the sound of scratches on paper. He rolls over and sees Yifan doodling just beside him. He watches as the older shifts to the left and picks a few pencils off of their bedside table and deliberating whether to use chartreuse or yellow green.
In all honesty, Zitao thinks there wasn't much difference between the two.
So he voices it out.
"Just use whichever, I _am_ still waiting for my good morning kiss, you know."
"I cannot use just whatever. I need to use the perfect shade."
"But, they're just the same."
Yifan glares at the younger, which of course, Zitao returns full force.
"I still _want_ my good morning kiss. You owe me that much because you woke me up with all that _doodling_."
Yifan puts down the sketch pad and the pencils, scoots closer to Zitao and gives him a peck on the lips.
"There. Good morning."
He eagerly picks his materials up and continues with his drawing. Zitao can only sigh.
"I'll go get some breakfast. I'm making fried rice and eggs."
Yifan only grunts in response as he colors in the rest of his masterpiece. Zitao resists the urge to peek and saunters off to the kitchen to get them breakfast. He might as well cook for lunch because at the rate things are going, Yifan won't even bother to get up and _fucking pee_ to finish that masterpiece, now, at this moment, while he is inspired.
He prepares two servings of everything and takes the tray to their bedroom. Under normal circumstances, this is considered romantic, but really, it loses its essence when you have to do it every day, because your boyfriend won't eat otherwise.
"Breakfast!" Zitao calls, as he pushes the bedroom door open with his foot. He carefully re-balances everything on the tray as he trods towards the older, who is currently grinning up at him from the bed.
"I finished it!" The older happily exclaims as he takes the tray from Zitao's hands. He places it on the bed carefully to avoid spilling anything then thrusts the sketch pad towards the younger.
At this point, Zitao wonders if this really was Yifan talking to him, because he now looks and acts way younger than he should and it makes Zitao feel and look way, way, _way_ older.
But when he sees the drawing, it _is_ Yifan alright. Years of experience may have _improved_ his skills, but he is still _nowhere_ near the art genius he claims to be.
"Of all things you can draw of me, you choose the one when you French dipped me in public."
"Ah, stop whining. Remember, that was when we first met. Besides, you love me anyway. "
A glimpse of Yifan's smirk and Zitao has to agree.
Not that he’d ever admit it out loud.
Zitao takes a large gulp of milk tea when Yifan throws him a question.
"So, when are we getting married?"
Zitao tries his best not to choke.
**Author's Note:**
> Won third place in the word war + _the most creative use of prompt_. Thank you, exactlyexo. | 787bfd54fd48487eabc8aeb177c384e0 | ['5a7d7756f345493d96f914b52d8d1ded'] | recently, days are getting more and more frustrating for minseok because he keeps forgetting things a lot. it has come to the point where jongin has to guess why he went to the kitchen in the first place or where he was really going, if he gets out of bed at all. and if that isn't bad enough, minseok finds himself confused when he does even the littlest and easiest of chores. sometimes, jongin catches him soaking wet because he'd forgotten to take his clothes off before turning the shower on. other times, jongin has to remind him how to hold chopsticks and how to make coffee. it frustrates minseok to no end because he likes coffee and making it is just as fun as drinking it.
when minseok forgets, the first person he thinks of is sehun, because he doesn't want his brain to forget about him. if he is honest, he only remembers jongin is there with him when the boy is frantically calling out for him. when jongin finds him, he'd look minseok over to check if there are visible problems anywhere and minseok would just watch blankly.
jongin never lets him out of his sight now; because of that one time when minseok wanted to use the bathroom but he opened the front door instead. when jongin noticed that minseok was taking so long, he went looking for him, only to find him huddled in a corner of their little garden with hands on his ears. the sunlight scared him, jongin realized, so the boy rushed inside to grab a hoodie to cover minseok with, before ushering him back into the house. needless to say, minseok never goes anywhere alone now; jongin keeps him by his side, almost 24/7.
_and how you fit beside me and (made everything fun—even grocery shopping)_
jongin finds that when minseok goes off on his own, he hides in the closet. the first time he does it, jongin gets worried because minseok might have gone outside and lost his way. so jongin sets off to find minseok, only to find that the gate is properly locked; minseok could not have gone out. at first, he only thinks to check under their bed, because minseok seems to have developed a habit of hiding there for comfort, but when he hears a muffled voice from somewhere in the room, he approaches the closet and hears minseok talking.
minseok seems to be incredibly engrossed in the conversation he is having, so jongin opens the closet to find out what he is talking about—only to realize that minseok is talking about sehun _again,_ because it's _always_ about sehun, after all. minseok used to talk to him like this—with bright eyes and a gentle voice. now, all he says are curt replies. if he ever shows any signs of the minseok he used to be, it will definitely be when he is talking about sehun; jongin knows he should not take it personally, but it _is_ stressful—he’s the boyfriend, after all.
the next time it happens is when minseok gets extremely distressed by the lack of curtains in the other parts of the house. jongin was meaning to wash them; he didn’t bother to put on new ones because he didn’t think minseok would get out of bed on his own. seeing the amount of sunlight, minseok freaked out and hid inside the closet. jongin tried to gently coerce him into coming out, so that he could give him a hug to reassure him that he is safe and no one wants to kill him. minseok doesn’t believe him at all; at this point, he starts talking to someone inside the closet so jongin presses on patiently because that is all that is left to do. but then, minseok stops talking altogether and instead chooses to stare into space. he’s back in his own world and he doesn’t notice the tired sigh and the resigned face jongin puts on before he quietly walks away.
_every time i think about you, i feel ghosts ripping up my heartstrings_
today, minseok is dreaming of sehun peacefully until he wakes up to evil laughter by his bed. he opens his eyes to find the horrible lady sitting on their broken television _again_ ; this time, she is not alone. there is a boy peeking out of the closet, smiling at him demonically and twin boys on his side, looking at him like they know a secret that he doesn’t. it terrifies him so he scrambles out of their shared bed and looks for se—no, jongin. he finds the younger boy sleeping on the couch, but he does not want to wake him up because the girl by the jar is watching minseok and something behind him and he _knows_ that the lady is there. he falls to the ground and attempts to scream because he can feel the lady’s hands on his neck, strangling him while whispering _die, die, die_ in his ear, repeatedly. he places his hands to pull her hands away but she is _just too strong._
_sehun, help me,_ minseok says again and again until he feels jongin’s hands curl around his to pull them away. he breathes in as deep as he can and jongin doesn’t look him in the eye. minseok wonders why but he never asks; he only takes jongin’s hand as the other helps him up and leads him back to the bedroom. minseok does not let go because he is afraid that the lady will come back so he asks jongin to stay. jongin places a kiss on the top of minseok’s head and acquiesces. _don’t worry, hyung, i won’t let them hurt you._ |
fa28fcd3d0d94e799b392b77273b4e7f | ['5a97fbaa0d344164a8fe1caf3f93721a'] | __I tried to wake him up but he smelled so strongly of beer that I knew my attempts were futile. So I just pulled the blanket out from under him and spread it over him. Then I wobbled over to his bed and got under the covers, after locking the door._ _
__Hmmm, I knew Ten liked to party. He had met Momo at a party for the first time. But would I have to deal with his drunk ass for a whole year?_ _
__Oh my god._ _
__Honestly, though, I thought I'd never have to see him again after what happened with Momo._ _
__It was awkward enough attending the same school as Momo for six more months but ending up rooming with Ten was just god testing my patience. Like.. I had requested for a roommate who didn't have the same major as me, but I had expected someone from pre-med, or I don't know law school._ _
__I had been told that Ten had requested something same. I don't know his reasons but why I wanted this was because people who shared classes with you would... how to put it? Disturb you. Not that I minded sharing my homework assignments but it's still too burdensome. I remember how one of my classmates lived in the same apartment as mine and he would come over all the time to study together. I hate group study sessions unless the other person is serious about it. He would just ask me to play video games after every hour. He would borrow books and not return them. He would drop food on my notes and return them with dog-eared pages. Laugh if you want but Park Jimin had scarred me for life._ _
__Ten was an Arts student and I'm totally not judging but -_ _
__Ugh, stop it, Lee Taeyong. You're just picking faults now. You don't know what he's like so don't be so judgemental. All college students have a huge workload. He won't just laze around and blast loud music and dance when you're trying to study._ _
__I took a deep breath and mentally prepared myself for the day, getting up and stretching._ _
__"Get up, Ten!" I said once as his alarm died down. He hadn't snoozed it off. He hadn't moved one bit. I thought I'd wake him up again after coming back from the washroom but what if he got late to class._ _
__To be honest, he looked so peaceful sleeping like that, his mouth slightly open and his soft hair falling over his face._ _
__"Ten!" I shook him slightly. "Wake up. It's past seven."_ _
__He only mumbled, but hey, some progress._ _
__"Ten, you'll be late for class." I said shoving him hard this time. His eyes flew open and I stepped back. "Good morning."_ _
__"Ugh, thanks for waking me up." He said, lazily rubbing his eyes. I nodded and grabbed my toiletries, heading out after plugging in my phone to charge._ _
__I came back after twenty minutes, showered and all, changed into a long sleeved black shirt and denim shorts, hair slightly wet, to see Ten still sleeping on my bed._ _
__"Ten, don't you have classes?" I asked, as I took my bag out of the cupboard. I hadn't bought any books and since I didn't have my library card yet I only had to carry my laptop, a small rough notebook and a pencil case. Normally I only took a pen to class but we needed pencils and rulers all the time, so I was stuffing it all into a case when I heard a loud thump._ _
__"Shit, Taeyong. What's the time?"_ _
__"Twenty nine minutes past seven."_ _
__"Shit."_ _
__With that he ran out of the room._ _
__I had my Fine Arts class in the morning. It was a two hour long period since it was a sessional class. Then I free periods until two p.m. Three lectures after that. My schedule was totally fucked up. They started at eight everyday and ended by five. Sure I had a lot of free periods in between, like on Tuesdays I only had two sessionals, one in the morning and the other in the evening and the rest of the day was free, but I couldn't leave early._ _
__Fine Arts, actually, was a common class. People from a lot of departments took that subject. It was an easy grade from what I had heard. But I wasn't sure how many people from my department took it. Also I had no clue where the Activity Room was. I had asked a senior and he had told me, "It's in the building behind the Administrative Block. You go back and look for a weird looking tree. That's the door to the Activity Room next to it."_ _
__I'm pretty sure the room would be easy to find and the senior was only messing with me since I was a freshman. It was forty five minutes past seven and Ten wasn't back. I picked up my phone and headed out, trusting him to lock the room._ _
__I knew it was an art class but I had no supplies other than my pencil. Not even a sketchbook. The teacher had said he would discuss the syllabus in the first class and then tell us what stuff we needed to buy._ _
__So I plugged in my earphones and walked downstairs. Our dorms weren't very far from the administrative building so I strolled casually while checking my sns. Basically just instagram and snapchat. Facebook only had junk notifications now. I had a few snaps from Johnny._ _
__Oh wow. He'd sent me a video of Ten chugging down a whole can of beer. They were together last night? Ugh, Johnny must have opened that big mouth of his and said something unnecessary._ _ | 15fe9d1d08f7489290a60e899b98e061 | ['5a97fbaa0d344164a8fe1caf3f93721a'] |
1. One
_Ten ___
The first day anywhere was always harrowing. First day of high school. First day at a part time job. First day at college.
College in itself was so intimidating, I almost forgot that I was gonna have to live in a building full of strangers for the next four years. We would get a different room every year and while it was spacious, we were supposed to share it. It was two to a room. I was torn about that. I mean it guaranteed at least one friend, right? But what if my roommate was weird? What if he snored at night? What if he stole my things or didn't clean his side of the room? Ugh.
My roommate hadn't arrived yet. His parents' house was a forty minute car ride from the university and he was slowly going to bring in his stuff over the week. Maybe he was too lazy to pack, or perhaps he just wanted to stay home for a few more hours. SNU didn't allow day scholars.
But when I got back to the room after the first day of classes, I found the door already open, around five suitcases and a couple of boxes littering the hall.
"Yeah, Mom. I got all my stuff." I heard a voice from inside the room. It sounded familiar. "You didn't have to send them, though. I said I'd get them."
I stepped around the luggage and knocked at the door before entering. The guy was more or less the same height as me and had dyed his hair a light shade of pink.
"Hey." I cleared my throat when the guy turned around, a huge smile on his face. A smile that was quick to disappear. "I'm Ten-"
I stared at him, too dumbfounded to do anything else.
My roommate was Taeyong. Lee Taeyong. My ex's ex.
Taeyong nodded, trying to act non-chalant but I knew he wasn't expecting to see me either.
"Long time, Ten."
"Yeah." I looked around and cleared my throat again. "So you just got here?"
"A few minutes before you did." He answered. "My father just left. Can you help me move in the boxes?"
I nodded and threw my bag on my bed before moving towards the suitcases that were littered outside the door. Taeyong followed me and we lugged in the biggest one together.
"Ah, just keep it by the door." He muttered. We brought in the rest of the boxes as well and I collapsed on my bed, breathing hard.
"Why do you need so much stuff when your parents live close by?" I asked, blinking the sweat out of my eyes. I felt something cold against my arm and I jerked it away, only to find Taeyong hovering over me, offering me a bottle of water. I sat up, taking the bottle from him as he bent down to open one of his suitcases.
"Yeah, I don't plan on going home a lot, so.."
"Why not?"
"Been living there for eighteen years, man. I'm tired of that place."
I nodded in response. I knew what he meant. If I was in his situation, my Mom would force me to come back every other weekend. But we all needed college to learn to be independent. No point running back home every time.
"So what major are you?" I asked, placing the bottle on my desk. Our room had two beds and two desks squeezed into a narrow space along with two cupboards. Thankfully, there was a window so it made the room seem less suffocating. There was barely enough room to walk. Taeyong's luggage had taken up a major portion of the floor. I had unpacked all of my things yesterday and my bags were stowed beneath my bed.
"Engineering. Computer science. You?"
"Liberal Arts. Music to be more specific." I had been saying that all day today. So many new people. So many introductions.
"Nice." Taeyong said. I thought he would continue the conversation but he didn't. I could too but I had waited too long and it would just seem awkward if I said anything.
I sat there for a while, watching Taeyong unpack his stuff at lightning speed before it occurred to me that I should offer to help.
"Do you-" I was cut off by my phone beeping. I picked it up from my table and saw that it was a text from Jaehyun.
_Wanna go look for that place Taeil hyung told us about? The one with the tasty chicken wings?_
I texted back a short reply, saying I would meet him in the lobby. His room was two floors above mine. I stood up, reaching for my wallet when I saw Taeyong looking at me. He turned away quickly, though. Should I invite him? He was a native. Maybe he'll know the way around.
"I was er- headed out to this um, place where they- I mean I'm going out with a friend." I managed to stutter. "Do you wanna come with us?"
Taeyong smirked and then shook his head.
"No, I better get this stuff arranged."
I nodded and left the room. What sort of torturous awkwardness had I signed up for?
\--
_Taeyong_
"Momo, where are you?" I asked. She'd gone to Daegu to visit her grandmother last week. I knew she was with family but the least she could do was text me back once in a while. We had barely talked and everytime I asked her what she was doing, she never answered me.
"Taeyong, baby, I'm going out to get some stuff for my grandma." Her end was totally silent. No sounds of doors closing, no footfalls. Nothing. "I'll text you when I get back." |
8d3f0aaf2b5d45c38f0d51f6c1f6e65f | ['5aad9bc612be4d7c992a61c566570152'] | Little Lamb
The thing that scared you the most as you ran through the dark forest was the silence. No, it shouldn’t have been as quiet as it was, and the conclusion made even more terror surge through you. There were no rustling animals scampering away, nor wisps of wind that made the branches sway. It was all just stillness as if everything within the woods knew what unspoken evil had made its home there; as if they knew it was closer than ever before.
You knew your head start on him wouldn’t last long and in fact, you were probably down to seconds before he’d catch up. If running had little to none chance of survival, there was only one other option left: hide.
Your eyes frantically scanned around the dark forest, and finally landed upon a decently sized tree you could hide behind. Running over to it, you put your back against the trunk and tried your best to even out your breaths before he got any nearer. Hiding wasn’t likely going to be a good outcome for your fate, but anything was better than trying to outrun the fastest creature in the world; that was a match anybody would be destined to lose to.
As your racing heartbeat began steadying you prayed he couldn’t hear it. You squeezed your eyes shut, fingernails digging into the tree bark your hands laid upon, willing away all the bad thoughts. Being pessimistic would quite literally mean the end of your life – all those terrifying thoughts would only make your pulse jump, and he would pinpoint you exactly.
The dead silence was killing you but after a few minutes of waiting in pure agony, wondering if he had passed or not, you figured he was gone. The relief had barely even begun filling your heart when something sucked the joy out of the moment.
A deafening sound broke the quiet slumber the forest was in.
The sense of dread and doom pumped through your body like adrenaline as you scrambled to reach for the ringing phone in your pocket.
You didn’t even have time to silence it before the sound was abruptly cut off, and the phone was ripped away from your grasp.
The feeling of his chest against your back and his hands on your waist made the hairs on your neck stand up, chills running up and down your body. Your brain screamed out at you to run, but everything else about him made you want to stay; from the way his enticing green eyes looked down at you, to the smirk that spread across his lips as he noticed the stutter in your heartbeat when you looked over your shoulder at him.
That’s how it was with them though, they had that power over humans. Their kind loved to toy with their prey before taking what was theirs.
That was the thrill of the hunt.
His cold breath fanned across your neck as he whispered in your ear, “Where did you think you were going, little lamb?” He paused, and you swore your heart stopped as you waited for him to continue. The familiar sharp sensation brushed against your neck, causing you to shiver slightly. “I wasn’t done with you.”
**Author's Note:**
> Another little piece I posted originally on my tumblr, but decided to share on here as well! I've been having really bad writer's block, but hopefully I'll get out of this funk during my spring break.
>
> Also, I was going to make a part two to this, and flesh it out into a full-on fic, but I think I need to get back in the groove of writing before I do so. | 0cfedf8a31ed4872b620fccae7a32df3 | ['5aad9bc612be4d7c992a61c566570152'] | Your last remark made him swing around to face you, his expression was somehow even crueler than before. His mouth twisted into a hateful snarl as he viciously spat out, “Well then I guess you’ll have to get over it before the feeling consumes you entirely because I’m sure as hell not staying here while there are people out there in danger (Y/N). They’re in real danger, not this childish delusion you’ve created in your head! I cannot be here to baby you, and nurse your wounds every time–” He cut himself short, catching himself before his voice rose any higher.
For a second, you saw your Dami, the one not many get the chance of seeing; the one that fiercely loved you, and cared so deeply for you. His eyes had softened up a bit, the familiar glint they held when he looked at you was starting to resurface amidst the stormy sea of green.
He took a deep breath, and spoke in a much more composed voice, “I promise you this is just your heart speaking. You can’t let fear overcome you.” Bringing your hand to his lips, he placed a gentle kiss there. “I’ll be back, just wait for me.”
And with that, much to your utmost horror, he once again cut himself loose of the death grip your hand held so dearly on his. You watched through tear-stained vision as Damian – your entire world – slipped right through your fingers, walking out the door.
The pitted feeling in your stomach that had started out minuscule this morning, had escalated into something so deeply wounding and paralyzing, you sunk to the ground, sobbing in complete despair. It felt like a piece of your heart had been torn out of your chest.
You never truly regained your composure for the rest of the night, but you managed to pull yourself up and onto the foot of Damian’s bed. There you sat, waiting for some form of life; waiting desperately for the door to swing open, waiting to see Damian’s familiar silhouette enter the dark room.
Waiting for something.
The door never opened.
**Author's Note:**
> Hello, and thank you for taking the time to read this! I appreciate it more than you could ever know. I just went ahead and started off my introduction with a bang and post some real angsty content. It's my first time ever posting on AO3 since I've been using tumblr as the only platform for my work up until this point. That being said, if I'm doing anything incorrectly, or if you have any friendly tips, please let me know! |
0c4cc34bdebb4e7194c653680febfef5 | ['5ac912f1103f4cdc9bd8526bffa15f5e'] | Steve tasted Bucky’s lips patiently, like his life depended on it. He caressed the sides of Bucky’s face as he was pushed against the door once more. “I didn’t know how much I’ve missed you until I saw you again” Bucky chuckled, as he studied Steve’s face more carefully. “Can we leave the talk for later?” He carefully moved away from the other man, biting his lower lip as he searched for Steve’s hand. Suddenly, it felt like the old days. Like they were two reckless kids teasing each other again.
Steve decided to follow Bucky’s lead. He could think of the consequences later.
A trail of shoes, jackets and shirts evidenced their way into Bucky’s room, along with giggles and soft moans. Steve laid Bucky on the bed, settling himself between his legs. Their kisses were between raw and passionate. As soon as they broke it for air Steve slid his lips down to Bucky’s neck. He sucked on it and bit it, making the boy beneath him pant and clutch Steve’s broad shoulders. “Your beard... It tickles” Bucky managed to say between breathy moans. His hips ground against Steve’s, the layers of fabric making him even more desperate for touches.
“Does it bother you?” Steve lifted his head a little to face Bucky’s face, who smirked. “I like it” He whispered, and kissed Steve once again. Bucky switched positions, now on top of Steve, and started undoing his pants. “Now, these are bothering me” As he managed to remove the other man’s jeans he noticed once more how broader Steve got. Of course he was already fit back when they were together, but now his arms were bigger, his thighs were thicker and he was definitely way, way hotter. “Damn, Steve” Bucky whispered under his breath when he realized he was staring for too long. He removed Steve’s boxers in a slightly clumsy and desperate manner, his own cock throbbing inside his jeans.
“What?” Steve asked teasingly. Of course he had noticed the lascivious glances Bucky gave him. And he enjoyed it. “Punk” Bucky muttered before taking him whole into his mouth. Steve let out a low groan, burying one of his hands in Bucky’s hair. “Shit, Bucky” He sighed, the brunette’s grayish-blue eyes never leaving his. The wet and warm feeling made Steve quiver under him.
Grabbing Bucky’s hair harder Steve began pushing his hips up, forcing himself and fucking the man’s mouth. He smirked as he noticed Bucky choking on his cock. Steve pulled Bucky’s hair back, making the brunette let go of his dick with a wet pop. “You look so beautiful when you’re choking on my cock, y’know?” Bucky’s lips were reddish and slightly swollen and eyes tearing up, but he still managed to grin. Steve caressed his face. “Do I?” He tried to sound innocent, as innocent as someone whose throat is sore from sucking dick can sound. “Yes, you do. And you fucking know it” The blonde outlined Bucky’s plump lips with his thumb, still moist from the saliva. “Even though I’d really like to cum inside your pretty little mouth, I want to do it while I’m fucking you”
Steve switched their positions once again and finally got rid of Bucky’s jeans and boxers, who moaned softly from being released. Their touches and kisses were sloppy and desperate, as if they didn’t have much time left or like the other would disappear in any moment. They stared into each other’s eyes as the kiss were broken. “First drawer” Bucky breathed, and Steve knew right away what it meant. He leaned to the side, to reach the nightstand, and opened the first drawer to find condoms and a bottle of lube.
Quickly, he ripped a package and rolled the condom down his cock before getting his fingers lubed up. Steve licked on the head of Bucky’s cock while spreading the sticky liquid all over his whole. Carefully, he slid one finger inside him and then another, mindful to Bucky’s every expression. Some whimpers escaped his mouth, but he told Steve to go on. Bucky’s hips rolled against the blonde’s fingers. His whines turned into needy moans as Steve curled his fingers inside him, brushing against his prostate. “You okay?” Bucky nodded, struggling to keep his eyes open. He wanted to look at Steve while he did dirty things to him, carving each moment into his memory.
Bucky couldn’t help touching himself, his twitching hard dick ached from the neglect. “Steve, please” He cried out, looking into the man’s eyes. He was ready. More than ready. Fortunately, Steve immediately got the message and delicately removed his fingers from Bucky’s insides. He grabbed the bottle of lube again and stroked himself with a good quantity of it before forcing himself into the brunette.
Steve shifted in bed, face to face with Bucky again, and caressed his thighs. Bucky’s breath shuddered and he whined as the blonde moved inside him, scratching at his back from the pain of being stretched. However, he wanted it. He wanted to be fucked and marked ruthlessly. He cursed against Steve’s neck and bit the tender, sweaty skin, to then rest his head again on the pillow and look into the blonde’s clear blue eyes. “Be rough, Rogers. I ain’t asking” Steve seemed to hesitate. He always did. He’d always been afraid that he would lose control and hurt Bucky, even if it was what Bucky wanted.
All that hesitation seemed to disappear as Steve first thrusted hard into Bucky. He growled when Bucky’s nails clawed deep at his back, leaving long and red marks. The brunette enlaced his legs around Steve’s waist to keep him close, and shut his eyes closed. He couldn’t control the sounds he made anymore, each thrust drawing him closer to heaven. “Ya so goddamn tight, Buck” Steve mumbled against Bucky’s neck, pounding him harder into the mattress. The bed creaked beneath them, but none of them seemed to care. Steve heard his phone ringing in the distance, probably his friends checking if he was alive, but he decided to let it ring.
Steve lifted his head once again to find Bucky’s pupils so blown his cold blue irises were mere rings around them. He kissed the brunette’s slightly parted lips before stuffing two of his fingers inside them. Bucky sucked hard on Steve’s digits. His warm and wet mouth along with the clenching of his walls around Steve’s cock nearly sent him to the edge. Steve pulled his fingers out of Bucky’s mouth and moved his hand to find his cock, which was rubbing against his belly. He pumped it up and down, watching as the smaller man trembled and keened underneath him.
“Ah, Stevie!” Bucky cried out Steve’s name several times as he rolled his hips against the thrusting. His limbs quivered as heat creeped down his belly, which caused him to wail needfully and grasp harder on Steve’s skin. “I’m cum... I’m cumming...” That was enough to make the blonde rock his hips, hitting onto Bucky’s prostate over and over. The brunette arched his back and close his eyes shut as his warm cum painted both of their chests, clawing once more on Steve’s skin. Bucky’s clenching walls around his cock didn’t take long to drive him into orgasm as well, moaning Bucky’s real name. Both panting and sweaty.
They kissed as passionately as their tired bodies would allow. Bucky whimpered as Steve pulled out of him, removing and tying the condom before laying by his side. They stared at each other for a while, until they could breathe normally. “When I got here, you were leaving” Steve started, his voice hoarse. “Where were you going?” Bucky chuckled. “Uhm, I had a date, actually. But I figured it would be better if I stayed here with you” He got closer to Steve, now their heads only inches away. Steve pulled away small hair locks from Bucky’s forehead, sticky with sweat. “Was it worth it?”
Bucky grinned, looking away for a moment. “Honestly? This was the best sex I’ve had in a long time” He was satisfied, of course, but he felt he needed to tell Steve that it wasn’t only some kind of casual sex with someone not that casual. Well, not for him. “Steve, I... When I saw you back at the bar I hesitated a lot to buy you that drink. I wasn’t even totally sure if it was really you, or if you’d want to talk to me. But I had to take a shot, even if we only said a few words to each other” Steve nodded, listening carefully. “I would never expect to see you in my door step. To be honest, I was entirely sure you didn’t even remember where I lived” Steve already knew where he was gonna get. There was no way the topic could be avoided. “I know where you’re getting to. I swear to god I was gonna call you”
“Then why you didn’t?” Bucky interrupted him, already getting anxious and impatient. It was somehow a very delicate topic for him. He got very hurt at the time. “I was robbed, right? I was leaving the bus station after I got to New York, and saw two teenagers harassing a woman in an alley. I called them out. They beat me up and stole everything but my keys” Steve admitted, struggling to look Bucky in the eyes. “As if it wasn’t bad enough, some fucked up things happened to me after it. I almost quit college, my mom...” His voice failed. Steve never really talked about his mother since her death. He quickly recomposed, so Bucky wouldn’t notice. “Well, I had to turn my back on a few friends. That includes that one mutual friend we had. I had no way to reach you again. Believe me, I tried”
Bucky felt ashamed, suddenly. For being mad at Steve all those years, for trying to erase him from his mind and life. Even if there was no way he could have known about it. “I tried to have relationships, several times” Steve kept talking. Bucky was thankful because, for the first time, he had no words. “With both men and women. To put it mildly, it was a waste of time. It’s all about you, Buck. You weren’t just some stupid summer love for me. It was so, so hard for me to know I couldn’t keep my promise” Bucky could see the glimmer in Steve’s eyes. He wasn’t lying. “Seems like destiny put us together again, huh?” The blonde chuckled.
“Will you call me then?” Bucky asked, and Steve frowned. “Will you call me tomorrow, Rogers?” The brunette repeated, biting his lip to repress a grin. Steve looked away, smirking.
“I will. Promise” | 2868e326c461497c9eb5cdaa54cab6c9 | ['5ac912f1103f4cdc9bd8526bffa15f5e'] |
Closer
**Author's Note:**
> So, I wrote this loosely based on Closer by the Chainsmokers and Halsey and it's also the first smut I actually post??? I really hope it's not that bad, enjoy!
* * *
“Why do you have to be so picky about everything?” Steve was already fully annoyed in the backseat of Tony’s car, and they had only been there for solid ten minutes. Tony, Natasha, Sam and Steve had decided to go drinking after the long and tiring trip from New York to Philadelphia, and Tony concluded they needed to go to this specific bar downtown. _“An old friend of mine is the owner, you guys will love it!”_ He said, giving no room for any other suggestions.
“Why do you have to be so fucking annoying about everything I do?” Tony responded in the same tone, glancing at Steve through the rear view mirror. “We’re all so tired and we could search for a bar next to the house but no, we have to drive downtown” Steve scowled and crossed his arms, as in a maturer version of a tantrum. “Would you guys please stop?” Natasha interrupted, clearly mad at both men. “It’s already exhausting having to share a car with your fat asses for two hours straight, let’s not make it harder” Sam simply agreed with her, not adding anything. They were all scared of her, and it fortunately made them shut up for the rest of the ride.
The bar wasn’t really crowded, since it was only six in the afternoon, but it still had some couples and small friend groups. Nat ordered a martini, Sam and Steve ordered beer and Tony ordered coke only, since he was driving. A few moments after their drinks arrived the owner of the bar, Tony’s friend, approached the table.
“Tony! It’s been so long, pal!” Steve wasn’t really in the mood for a conversation at the moment, so he just shook the man’s hand and occupied himself with his beer bottle. He was too distracted to even realize they had stopped talking.
“Which of you is Steve Rogers?”
Everyone else in the table turned their looks to Steve, who was the only one who hadn’t noticed the waiter’s approach to them yet. “Uhm, that would be me?” Immediately, the waiter put a fresh rosy drink in front of him. “Courtesy from the gentleman in the bar” In a quick inspection Steve realized it was a Cosmopolitan. No one knew it was his favorite, except for...
He glanced at the place where the waiter had pointed at, and he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Do you know him, Steve?” Natasha asked, also staring at the stranger. “That’s... That’s my ex” Steve’s voice sounded colder than he expected. He sipped on the drink, eyes stuck on the man. _‘The bastard even remembers I like extra vodka...’_ He thought.
James Buchanan Barnes. He was supposed to be only one more summer love, but never really left Steve’s head. Even after almost four years. “Were you gonna meet here?” Sam spoke in a slightly low voice, as if he thought the stranger would hear. “No, we... we haven’t met or spoke in years” Many feelings disturbed Steve’s heart and mind. Confusion. Guilt. Desire. All at once. A few moments felt like hours. “Aren’t you gonna talk to him?” Tony seemed unaware of the tension among the table. Like it was no big deal for him. “He’s alone, you aren’t. He’s not coming here” Sam and Natasha agreed, and tried to talk Steve into it. In the end, he gave up. He got his drink and got up.
Each step was torture. The short walk to the bar took ages and ages, and Steve still couldn’t make up his mind about this. He couldn’t not notice that the man was as good looking as the day they met. Of course his features were maturer, but he was still very, very handsome. His hair was slightly long, like he’d been too busy to remember getting a haircut, and his beard was stubble. He was also wearing a leather jacket, which made Steve wonder if he still rode bikes.
“So you’ve finally grown your beard?” His voice. His voice was steamy, velvet-like. Slightly deeper than Steve had remembered. “And you’ve grown your hair?” Steve teased, perching on a stool next to the man. He placed his drink on the counter, noticing that Bucky only had whiskey with some ice cubes. _“And yet he bought me this fancy drink...”_ “Buck, it’s been-“
“Four years” Bucky interrupted, sipping on his glass. “And you didn’t call. Not once” The man stared right into Steve’s eyes. It was easy for him to spill those words. Like he’d been waiting for it. Bucky’s cold blue eyes still did things to him, that deadly stare sending shivers down his spine. “Neither did you” Steve quickly responded. Bucky smirked. “I guess we were both too dumb and selfish to call, or care” His voice sounded hurt, and Steve suddenly felt guilty. Bucky actually waited for him to call.
“So, what brings you here?” Bucky quickly asked, trying to change the course of the conversation. Steve sipped on his cosmo. “The bar or Philadelphia?” Steve took his time to pay more attention to Bucky’s features. He clearly remembered that summer, and how he looked beautiful under sunset light. “Both, I... I didn’t expect to see you here again” Bucky tried for sure to be, or at least to seem, resentful and mad, but Steve made it all so hard. He did absolutely nothing but still made Bucky’s heart melt. The beard made him look manlier, and certainly maturer than the boy he had met a few years ago. |
b69c5f9e93864bfb8fccaea2dcc19018 | ['5b0bcb867f2346c7985530948986e640'] | He turned around and faced her. Her green eyes, which once upon a time had a spark to them, were now dull and sad. Her strawberry blonde hair had once been shiny and silky, but now stood limp on her shoulders. She had bags under her eyes. Her shoulders no longer had the confidence of Beacon Hills’ most popular girl. She was still beautiful. It was a tragic kind of beauty, but she was still beautiful.
“Be safe.” She told him after a while. “Please come back.”
“I will, I promise.” He told her.
“And, in case I never get a chance…” She stepped forward towards him and wrapped her arms around him. They both couldn’t stop the tears that were rolling down their cheeks. She leaned her face into his chest, his hand stroking her back. She stood up on her toes and kissed his tear-stained cheek, wiping away the tears with her fingers.
After what seemed to be an eternity and a lot of ugly looks shot from Malia, she let go. “Call me when you get there,” reaching out to hold his hand.
“I will,” he answered. “I have to go now.”
“I know,” she whispered sadly, letting his warm hand go. She watched him climb into his car, and drive off into the early morning sun.
“He’s going to be fine, Stiles is a strong guy.” Deaton reassured her.
“I hope so,” Lydia said finally, “I really hope so.”
**Author's Note:**
> I hope you guys enjoyed this, leave comments! :D
>
> Disclaimer: Teen Wolf does not belong to me (obviously) | 1f25faf1da5e488e9cdbfb89af9e9aa5 | ['5b0bcb867f2346c7985530948986e640'] |
What If We Didn't Care
**Author's Note:**
> This is something I've been working on that I finally polished for Stydia week! It's cheesy like everything I seem to write these days but I just have too many Stydia feels to handle!!!!!!!!
It was a typical Tuesday evening. Well, as typical as it could get for the teenagers of Beacon Hills. Lydia was with Stiles, trying to figure out what to do to defeat the latest in supernatural threats. The monsters of this week were Berserkers. Besides vague Wikipedia descriptions about the anger-driven warrior type characters, they were getting nowhere. Stiles was on even more edge than usual, hovering and fidgeting over her shoulder.
“Have you tried different spellings? Maybe Berserkers is derived from an older name, something different, related to anger, threat…” Stiles suggested, his voice drifting off as he racked his brain for clues.
“Stiles, we’ve been at this for hours. This is getting ridiculous. If there was anything online about the history of the name ‘Berserker’, we would have found it by now,” Lydia said, exasperated.
“I’m just trying to offer some suggestions here.” He retorted back.
“I get that. But your useless suggestions and incessant fidgeting is not getting us any closer to finding a way to get rid of these things. And we’re running out of time.”
“I know, I know. I’m just trying to help,” he said quickly, “I’m just trying to help.”
“Stiles…” Lydia responded, worried, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. I just – there has to be a way, there has to be something! Something I can do, anything. Just anything.”
“Stiles, we’ll find something. We’ll figure it out, we always do. We’re the Sculder and Mully of Beacon Hills after all!” she said with a smile.
“Minus the baby,” he added with a grin.
***
After another 3 hours of getting nowhere online, Stiles and Lydia decided to call it a day.
“Lydia, you’re falling asleep in my chair, I’m taking you home.”
“I’m sorry, I’m just so tired…” she said, her eyes drooping.
“Lydia, do you ever sleep? We’re out all the time, fighting monsters and yet you’re still top of the class, ahead on all your assignments, and you somehow manage to look fresh off the runway every morning.” He said, worried but in awe.
“Coffee,” she answered, brushing off his concern. “Seriously, I’m fine, just take me home.”
What she didn’t tell him was that as much as she tried, she couldn’t for the life of her fall asleep at night. The names on the deadpool, the sight of Allison’s body in Scott’s arms, the shadows of the nogitsune in Stiles’ eyes, all the horror and chaos that had cursed Beacon Hills, she couldn’t let go of it.
“All right, if you say so,” he finally said. “Let’s go.”
Since it was nearly 2 am when they left Stiles’ house, the streets were dead. There was no night life in this town, just the rustle of the trees and the nighttime breeze to keep them company.
Climbing into the blue jeep, Lydia pointed out, “There’s something eerie about Beacon Hills at night… Like some invisible spirits are patrolling the streets, leading everyone back into their homes…”
“Well it is Beacon Hills after all, I don’t think anything supernatural could surprise me at this point.”
“Crazy how our lives have changed, huh?” she said, looking up into his dull brown eyes. Dull, that’s what the nogitsune had turned them into. She didn’t notice until after, that he used to have a glint in his eyes, a spark about them.
“Yeah, 2 years ago, I would have never thought I’d be sitting in this beat-up car with the Lydia Martin,” he joked.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. It just feels like we’re different people now, you know?”
“Because some of us are…” he said, without his usual joking tone.
“Stiles, that’s not what I meant. You’re still you, you’re still Stiles, regardless of what happened when you were possessed.”
“That’s the thing Lydia. It was me. It was all me. I was conscious of what I was doing. I remember what it felt like. It felt good, all the pain and violence and harm I was causing. It gave me strength.”
Lydia turned around in her seat, putting a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. Tears had escaped his eyes. “Listen to me, Stiles. None of that was your fault! The nogitsune got into your mind and forced you to do all that. You can’t blame yourself forever, I won’t let you.”
“But you should! I’m the reason Allison is dead. That Aiden is dead. That Isaac is gone. How can you forgive me? I killed your best friend and your boyfriend. You should hate me for that.”
“Stiles, I could never blame you for that. How could I? You’re one of the kindest people I know. Your heart, it’s so big. You’re more capable of love than anyone I know. You’re the one who has the most reason to leave Beacon Hills behind and never come back but you stay here, risking your life for your friends, your family,” she said. “How can I hate you for that?” she added gently, wiping the tears falling down his cheeks.
“Really?” he answered, his tone surprised.
“Duh, idiot,” she responded with a smile.
“Ouch, insulting my intelligence, I see how it is,” he laughed.
“You know I love you!”
“Love you too, Lydia.” He added, jokingly.
“Well, I better go up,” she said, having arrived in the driveway of her house. She was a little disappointed to have arrived so soon, not ready to face another sleepless night.
“I’ll walk you up. Don’t even try arguing,” he added as she opened up her mouth in protest.
“Fine. Let’s go,” she replied. |
0f85c628e27c4bdaa4561de489b7d79d | ['5b0cb1239dcf4f2ca1e81cfe6216dc7d'] | But first I needed some gear which wasn’t sold in normal clothing shops, so I headed toward the army surplus store on the edge of the Boardwalk. It smelt slightly of stale sweat, and I got the distinct feeling that it didn’t see too many women.
The adverts in the shop were all talking about patriotism and the need to be ready and ‘What would you do if an Endbringer attacked?’. Well, let’s see, I would end up a refugee or die of drowning, end up a refugee or die of radiation poisoning, or get to stay in Brockton Bay because I was now stuck in an internment camp or die from weird psychic bullshit. Sorry, Sammy’s Surplus, but I’m not sure you’re going to be as much help as you think.
A sudden cloud of depression descended on me. Except now I was a cape. I should be volunteering with the PPD for one of the parahuman reserve groups, even if I wasn’t going to register with the government. Even some _criminals_ did that, though that was probably because they thought it bought them lighter sentences and a route for rehabilitation. And I wasn’t a criminal.
But… I mostly just had Thinker powers. What could I do? They didn’t release actual figures, but everyone knew the casualty rate for fighting an Endbringer was really high. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to see an Endbringer. I paled at the thought of what one of those _things_ , those living natural disasters would look like in the Other Place. I’d have to look at it if I wanted to do something against it. If the sweatshop had been that bad, what would something which had killed millions look like?
But surely it was my responsibility to help, right? I just… didn’t want to face something like that. I didn’t want to die.
No. I shouldn’t think about things like that. The Protectorate didn’t send parahumans who couldn’t help to those things, and I was too young anyway. If it came to it, I’d deal with it, but for now I didn’t have to think about that kind of thing. To get away from these morbid thoughts, I continued looking for the final parts of my costume.
My mother had managed to avoid getting caught when carrying out acts of villainy with a gas mask and balaclava, so apparently that set-up worked. It made sense. It would make it hard to identify me, and on top of that, it might help against gas or smoke, or even some cape powers. There was bound to be a villain with poison gas powers or someone who made worm things that tried to crawl in your mouth. I had considered trying to dig through the junk in the basement or the attic to see if I could find her old one, but it probably wouldn’t be in great shape after twenty years even if I could find it.
Also, I really didn’t want Dad going ‘Hmm, new superhero in town wearing what looks to be my wife’s old costume from her days as a henchwoman. I wonder who that could be?’.
It wouldn’t end well.
It wasn’t too hard to find where they were stocking the gas masks, and they had an entire range of balaclavas. I decided to go for one of the better ones, with a foil lining. It looked warmer and more comfortable, and I’d be wearing it quite a bit. I also vaguely remembered seeing on some crime show that foil linings could block microwave cameras, so maybe it would make it harder to see who I was.
I had enough cash for it, but – I pursed my lips, and winced slightly from the cracked skin – I didn’t want to be associated as someone buying something like that. Gas masks weren’t exactly regular purchases. And if I was in charge of a group looking for criminals, I’d be suspicious of people buying gas masks and balaclavas.
Well, the solution to that was obvious. Three barbed wire doll cherubs later, and the gas mask and balaclava were under my bed, while the money for them was in the cash register. That wasn’t stealing at all. In fact, _I_ was technically being cheated, because I couldn’t return them if they weren’t up to standard.
And I was feeling rotten. No, really, really bad. I felt sick and dizzy, and my lips had started bleeding again. The guy behind the register looked worried, and asked if I was feeling okay.
“A bit dizzy,” I admitted. “I’m just going to go outside and find somewhere to sit down for a bit. I’m sorry, I just get low blood sugar when I don’t eat for a while and everything goes a bit fuzzy and I just realised I missed lunch, sorry. It’s not diabetes. I’ll be fine.”
I’m not sure if he believed me – in fact, I’m certain he didn’t, but he let me go and I managed to find a bench out in the fresh air and sit down, holding my head in my hands. Ow. Ow ow ow. I guess I had proof that overusing my powers did a number on my body. Great. Just great.
But on the other hand, I now had my costume, hidden under my bed. I could go about making the world a better place. Or at least, I thought with a sinking feeling, I could do so the day after tomorrow. Because tomorrow I had that stupid meeting up at the school, talking about when I was going to be back. I really wasn’t looking forwards to it. I was trying to shut down an illegal sweatshop and really help people, and I didn’t need a school which couldn’t even keep me safe getting in my way. They didn’t care about me, anyway. They probably didn’t want me back. | 40a6d89a5c354782b27281d7df758345 | ['5b0cb1239dcf4f2ca1e81cfe6216dc7d'] | “I know,” Kirche said, shaking her head sadly. She slapped herself gently across the face. “Bad Kirche! Very bad Kirche! Such terrible standards!”
“There’s no need to mock me because you’re a Germanian trollop,” the blonde informed her. "At heart, you're kind of a bitch, you know that?"
“But I do have no standards!” Kirche said, putting one hand to her mouth. “He may have looked handsome, but he was a virgin. And virgins are no good until they’ve learned where to put their thing.” She shook her head sadly. “But I let my weak, womanly lusts overcome me! Such shame! Such ignominy!”
“There’s no talking to you when you’re like this,” Monmon retorted, wheeling her horse away.
“It’s really a shame too,” Kirche added wickedly, “because he had really nice estates.” She paused, deliberately. “And a large endowment.”
Montmorency made a disgusted harrumph.
“True,” Tabitha said, looking up from her book. “Ze County de Maas eez wealthy. Collects trade tariffs along ze... the river. ‘Is parents are dead. Marriage prospects are good.”
There was an awkward silence.
“Look, Tabby,” Kirche said kindly, “just keep reading, okay? But yes, he was no good with it. And it’s no good having a large endowment if you don’t know how to use it.”
“A bad investment eez bad for status and money,” the blue-haired girl agreed, returning to her book.
Kirche sighed. “You lot are no fun, you know that?” she said, sadly. “You’re too frigid for it to be funny, Monmon, Guiche has his fingers in his ears because it makes him vaguely uncomfortable when I talk like this, and Tabby doesn’t get what I’m saying.”
“I don’t have my fingers in my ears,” Guiche objected, from his position somewhat behind the other three. “I’m just... uh, reading the map.”
“Sure you are,” Kirche said cheerfully.
The blue-haired girl looked up from her book, frowning. After a few moments of thought, her eyes widened. “Oh,” she said, “not ‘is lands? Inheritance from muzzer? That eez ‘is endowment?”
The red-head smirked. “Well, I saw his sister there and the portraits in the hallway, and I’d have to say, I think she’s the one with the two large inheritances from their mother, not him!” she observed.
“Oh. Passing wealth down only through line female. Zat... that eez unusual. Eez zat why she was not ‘appy we rescued ‘im alive, no?”
“Go back to your book, Tabby.” Kirche sighed. “No fun at all. None of you explode at me like L... like the fun way. I’m like a fire deprived of my fuel. A blacksmith without iron. A troll without her favourite amusing little billygoat.”
“Or a slattern without her dignity,” Montmorency drawled.
“Just not the same,” the taller girl said, shaking her head. “It’s just not the same.” She shook her head. “Lunch?” she asked.
It was generally agreed to be a good move. And over the meal, they discussed their options. And what to do next.
“Veto,” Tabitha said.
Guiche raised his eyebrows in surprise. “But... a remote castle, terrorised by ghosts, offering to pay well if people will rid them of the menace? Sure that combines heroism and being well rewarded in a...”
“Veto.”
“But...”
“Oh, lay off her, Guiche,” Kirche said lazily, sprawling back on the grass. “She used her veto; we all get one.” She picked up another pamphlet. “Oh, here’s one,” she said. “A family from... does it say Tarbes or Tardes here? I can’t read it; whoever wrote it was an illiterate. Oh well. Yeah, their... dum de dum, oldest daughter missing, willing to pay a reward... yeah, that one’s worthless. Less than an ecu, and it’s up north. Not worth it.”
“Though if we head that way, we should always keep an eye out,” the blond boy said over his shoulder, as he went to the horses to recover a treat for his mole-familiar.
“... well, if we must,” Kirche said, reluctantly. “We’d have to be very, very near or for it to be very easy if it’s worth it for probably-days of effort doesn’t even get us an ecu.”
“I’m sure it’s all they can afford,” Guiche said, raising his voice over the contended sound of his familiar sucking on a fine South-Eastern black loam. “But yes, you’re right. If we knew it was more than a missing girl, like if it was some necromancer or demon who had spirited her away, then it would be different.”
“It certainly would,” the redhead agreed. “Hey, while you’re over by the bags, get me some horse jerky, would you?”
Monmon looked up from where she was tallying up their takings. “That’s hardly very lady-like,” she said primly. “Can you at least keep your mouth closed this time when chewing? Guiche, Kirche is deliberately eating with her mouth open to annoy me!”
Tabitha wiped her hands on the ground. “Still go to Sant ‘enri,” she said. “Catch up later. There eez somezing I need to do.”
“See you,” Kirche said with a wide-open mouth, waving lazily, as Tabitha sprung up onto the back of her dragon, and it soared off in a gust of wind. She tossed a piece of meat to her salamander familiar, which caught it in its mouth. “Well, what else?” she asked. “Oh, it says here that apparently the Madame de Montespan will pay a thousand ecu if anyone can provide information towards the discovery of something called the Fireheart. With...” she let out an impressed whistle, “... my, ten thousand ecu if it is brought to her in Amstelredamme.”
“Do we know what it is?” Guiche asked. “Fireheart... the name sounds familiar. Was it that thing which was once stolen by the Anti-Popess Luxuria before Huenon the Brave cast her from the highest tower of the Janiculum?” |
4e33ed200c644e01b6692915c5157772 | ['5b172491b69245368e64774c67d0987a'] | “Wait wha-” X promptly shut Zero up, using his power to black him out.
“Sweet dreams, dork.”
2. Meeting the others.
When Zero woke up, he, for some reason, couldn’t remember why he blacked out, until he saw X.
“Did you actually force me asleep?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“... Because I love you? Are you an idiot?”
“Yes and why?”
“... D-did you just ask me why I love you?”
“...”
“What in the actual fuck?” X couldn’t really comprehend what he was hearing. His boyfriend, the robot who died three times and came back, the robot who took down repliforce single-handedly, the robot who actually freed Neo-Arcadia from a dictator that looked like the person closest to him, just asked why X loved him. What the fuck.
“Hey, Zero! Come here, we want you to meet everyone!” the voice came from the living room, it sounded like some energetic schoolboy.
“That was Rock, didn’t you see him?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“... Are you just going to hang around me?”
“Probably.”
“... Okay...” Zero then got up and walked out of the room.
“Do you even know where you’re going?”
“No, but I’ll look crazy if I talk to you.”
“Ah, right, I can’t be seen by anyone but you.”
Once Zero walked into a room, X trailing behind him, a boy, Rock, as X assumed, noticed and went up to <strike>them</strike> Zero immediately.
“Hey, they’re out back.” He said quickly, turning and walking towards a door.
“Who is?” Zero asked, following him.
“Some doctors and their robot masters.”
“Ah, okay.”
“Lucky dork, you get to talk to the father of robotics!” X quipped. He was going to watch as attentive as he could.
“Shut up, X,” Zero muttered under his breath, enough for X, who was right next to him, to hear clearly, but not enough for Rock to hear. “You never answered my question by the way.” He muttered again.
“I’ll spill later,” X replied, Zero had more important things to do, like meet the legends of 20XX.
“Okay,” Rock says stopping in front of a rather large amount of people.
“Ah, this is him.” Doctor Light announced once he noticed Rock and Zero standing in front of the group.
“Wow, a creation of future robotics.” A female doctor with long purple hair with a gray streak says. She’s wearing yellow high heels, an orange and yellow shirt, a belt holding up a blue skirt, her lab coat open. “I’m Doctor Lalinde, these are my daughters, Tempo and Vesperwoman.” She pointed to two robot masters, one that was wearing a green and purple robe, and long brown hair. The other robot master looking like a bee.
“That must _ bee _ Vesperwoman” X joked, instantly feeling the impact of unimpressed that Zero shot at him in response.
“I am Doctor Cossak, this is my daughter, Kalinka, and my robot master Pharoahman.” A stoic man with brown hair in a small beard and hair facing upwards. He wore brown shoes and pants, a yellow button-up shirt and a green tie. He introduced a small girl with blond hair, green eyes, a red dress with black fur, a black hat, black leggings, brown boots with white fur and bright blue, spherical earrings. There was also a robot master that looks exactly like an Egyptian pharaoh.
“Blues, Rock and Roll’s older brother, sorry I was doing something important last night.” A robot master wearing a red attire similar to rocks, a yellow scarf, smooth, short brown hair and sunglasses quipped.
“These are DLNs 3 to 10.” Doctor Light said pointing to eight robot masters. “Cutman, Gutsman, Iceman, Bombman, Fireman, Elecman, Timeman, and Oilman.” X could easily tell which robot master was which ad by looking at Zero, he could too. Cutman was orange and white, with large scissors on his head. Gutsman was large and black with red boots and arms and yellow highlights, gloves, and hat. Iceman was small wearing a simple blue parka. Bombman had orange hair in a mohawk and yellow gloves, boots, and skin. Fireman was red and white, with places on his head and hands, his head itself looking like the tip of a flamethrower. Elecman was black, red and yellow with a lightning bolt shape on his head. Timeman was purple with yellow bells like an alarm clock on his head, and a clock on his chest. Oilman was different shades of blue, with a drop-shaped head, a drop shape on his chest, and a red scarf.
“Zero.” He introduced himself quickly, he still sees no need in emotion or time, X thought.
“So, you’re from the future?” Kalinka asked she seemed so excited.
“Yes. I was activated in 21XX and it was 22XX before we ended up here.”
“That’s interesting, what is it like in 21 and 22XX?”
Zero simply cocked his head to the side and crossed his arms, to show that he was thinking of an answer. “It’s advanced, and unified most of the time.”
“Most of the time?” Rock asked.
“Yeah, usually everything is harmonious but there’s been a lot of threats. Like wars and dictators.” Everyone gave Zero a shocked look, Zero, however, kept his blank stare. “You get used to it.”
“Uh, you gave confusion to robot masters yesterday, you don’t have them in the future?” Was an inquiry from Roll.
“No, we don’t have robot masters, we have reploids.”
“What’s the difference?” Tempo asked.
“So, from what you’ve told me, robot masters are made to help with a specific task, but reploids are more like people, they have free will and can do whatever they really want.”
“So, reploids have free will! That’s actually cool.” Rock exclaimed.
“He’s a sweet kid,” X said to Zero, slowly edging closer for no reason.
“What do you do in the future?” Timeman asked, as punctual and unemotional as the person he was asking.
“You mean my occupation?” Zero asked to clear up the question.
“Yes.” | 48d5dc8db842448a8de6a90ede781280 | ['5b172491b69245368e64774c67d0987a'] |
1. WHY
Zero woke up in a familiar lab. Well, he supposed it was familiar, aside from the fact that it wasn’t trashed by time. What he remembered this lab as, was light labs, where X came from. But why wasn’t it in ruins?
He sat up and looked around. It wasn’t trashed at all… what was happening? He tried to remember the last thing that happened before he powered down when he heard the door open.
“Oh, you’re awake!” He turned to look at where the voice came from. There at the door was a small ‘reploid?’ wearing a blue t-shirt and shorts. His hair was dark brown and messy, and his eyes were deep blue. Zero understood that whatever was in front of him was not a human, as his combat systems identified him as a reploid of some kind, but he seemed too primitive to be a reploid or a robot like x and himself. “Dr. Light! The robot’s awake!”
Dr. Light? He’s dead though? Or? Zero was overall just very confused. “Ah, you’re awake that’s good.” Zero now noticed the new figure in the room. He was pudgy and had gray hair and large gray beard, wearing a large lab coat and reddish-orange pants, his eyes were as deep blue as the small robot. “What might your name be?”
“Zero”
“Well, Zero, I’m Doctor Light.”
“I’m Rock or Megaman, you must be really confused. We just kind of found you in the forest, you can ask us some questions if you want.”
Zero cocked his head to the side a little, thinking of what to ask. He ended up with a question that would sound overly stupid. “What year is it?”
Rock and Doctor Light looked rather shocked, but after a few seconds, the man spoke. “20XX, I know you’re supposed to be asking the questions, but why do you ask?”
“That explains why my internal clocks are so messed up…” Zero muttered. “Uh, if I told you why I asked, I would sound ridiculous and stupid…”
“Okay, well do you mind if I ask a question?” Rock asked. Looking at the blue-clad robot (which was starting to remind Zero of X) Zero could tell that Rock was expecting something like ‘you just asked a question.’ but Zero didn’t joke around.
“Go ahead.”
“Well it’s just that your systems looked really advanced, so I wanted to ask who your creator is.”
Ah, this was a predicament. “Don’t hate me for this, but Doctor Wily.” Zero couldn’t keep his mouth shut, so he ended up blurting it out.
“Huh, you’re not really like the others that Doctor Wily made… it’s alright, Doctor Wily has made some robots masters that aren’t really loyal.”
Well, that’s good. “What’s a robot master?” He didn’t really know what a robot master was, anyways.
Doctor Light responded again. “an advanced robot made to help society. Are you not a robot master?”
“No. Technically I’m just a robot.”
“Technically?” came from a girly voice from the door. Zero noticing the new voice turned to look at her, she was a small robot, probably a robot master like the Rock, she had bright blond hair and mid-green eyes. She was wearing a red dress and boots. Her hair was held up in a ponytail by a green ribbon. “I’m Roll. What do you mean you’re technically a robot?”
“Ah, well…” Zero had no idea how to explain… he was aware that he was looking away and giving an awkward smile. “I guess I’m not really a robot master, as I wasn’t made or coded to help anyone…”
“Really? Not even Doctor Wily?” Rock pipes up.
“Doctor Wily was dead by the time I was activated.”
“But Doctor Wily is still alive!” The girl, Roll shouts.
“Oh shoot. But on the contrary, my memory banks say he died.”
“You’re lying aren’t you!” The girl is trying to pick a fight, isn’t she?
“I’m not!”
“Calm down.” Rock silenced us. “Um, when were you activated?”
“21XX”
“…”
“Huh… I… was not expecting that.”
“Uh yeah… I actually don’t know how I got here.”
“Prove it.” Roll stated seemingly mad.
“Well then, how would I possibly do that?” Zero mused, he was going to prove it.
“What’s this?” Roll said picking up his Z-sabre from the table and handing it to him. “It was next to you when we found you.”
Zero pointed it away from the three others in the room, and in a flash, the triangular blade appeared from the hilt. “My main weapon, the Z-sabre.” that seemed to catch everyone’s attention.
“What is the blade made of?” Doctor light inquired.
“Well, pure energy, I guess.”
The conversation that probably was going to stem from that was immediately cut off by a large shattering noise.
“We should go power down for the night,” Rock said. “You’ll meet the others tomorrow, I’ll get Quickman and power him down.”
“Alright, be careful Rock!”
“Goodnight you three.”
“Goodnight.” Zero replied before promptly ignoring everyone the rest of the night. Sleep wasn’t easy on Zero, it usually wasn’t but this night, it felt strange to not sleep easily, his mind was riding random trains of what was happening. His most alarming thought was what was happening with Ceil as he’s in this time instead of his original timeline. As he slowly begins to panic, he suddenly takes notice of a presence, not physically, as his combat systems don’t detect anything physical but rather pure energy. He looks up slightly to see a figure around his size. The figure was giving him a sympathetic smile, and Zero recognized him immediately. “X?” he whispered to the ex-robot now cyber-elf.
“So, number one, you’ve traveled through time?” X replied what the hell was even happening
“Yeah, how did you follow me through time?”
“Cyberspace I guess.”
“Huh.”
“Uh, number two, you’re awake at 11 pm.”
“I… didn’t even know it was 11.”
“Go to sleep, you dork.”
“Make me.”
“Challenge accepted.” |
5ca87bde02b7433286fcda0b0ab31a4c | ['5b36fc972c2949a6b2cc930525ab341f'] | Chocolate
Remus recognized the fast breaths and small squeaks of a panic attack when he heard them. He’d had enough of his own after all. So he knew what was wrong with his new dorm mate, the dark haired boy who’d sat straighter than the rest at dinner. Long after the other boys had fallen asleep, Remus lay on his bed wondering what he should do. He decided the best course of action was to try and help so he got up, pulled a chocolate bar out of his trunk, and made his way over to the other boy’s bed. He parted the curtains slightly. The boy froze.
“It’s alright. I’m Remus. I thought you could use some chocolate.” He held out the candy bar.
“Why?” The other boy eyed him suspiciously.
“Because it helps when I have a panic attack. I’ll leave if you want and I’ll never tell a soul, but I’m here if you want to talk.” When the boy didn’t send him away he sat on the edge of the bed and offered the chocolate again. The boy took it.
“My family’s going to kill me. Everyone’s been in Slytherin. I’m going to die.”
“I’m sure they won’t kill you.”
“My parents will do pretty much anything to maintain the reputation of the ‘noble and most ancient house of Black’.” He spat at the moniker of his bloodline.
“When I was little something happened and I thought for sure my parents would murder me, or at least ship me off to the farthest reaches of the earth. I can’t speak for your parents, but I know the feeling.” Remus pointed at the unopened chocolate bar the boy was holding. “Eat the chocolate; it’ll make you feel better.”
The boy smiled, unwrapped, and bit into the chocolate. “I’m keeping you. This chocolate is amazing.”
“I don’t know your name.” Remus laughed a bit.
“Sirius Black.”
“Remus Lupin.”
“You’re my friend now, Remus, you’re mine.”
Remus just smiled in response, happy to have a friend.
**Author's Note:**
> LINK
> LINK | 2df507070662464da3675e0ff088e41a | ['5b36fc972c2949a6b2cc930525ab341f'] | Coming Out
Sirius lay on his bed reading the Prophet when Remus stormed into the dorm room and flung open his curtains and ripped the newspaper out of his hands.
“We’re telling them today Sirius!” Remus exclaimed, frustrated.
Sirius stuck his fingers in his ears and chanted. “I can’t hear you! I can’t hear you!”
Remus pulled Sirius’s fingers out of his ears and stated. “You’re the reason we have too! Would you rather they find out from someone else?”
“This is not my fault!”
“Yes it is! If you didn’t want to tell them you shouldn’t have started the PDA!”
“Are you complaining?” Sirius raised an eyebrow playfully.
“No.” Remus rolled his eyes, sighing a bit.
The dorm door creaked open. Remus and Sirius turned to see James standing there.
“What’d Sirius do, Remus?” James asked.
“What?”
“You’re frustrated and you have your ‘this is your fault, Sirius’ look on.”
“Technically it’s what I’ve failed to do that’s got him all riled up.” Sirius commented lazily, pointing at nothing in particular.
“Did he forget about another project?” James sighed.
“No, well yes, but I figured he would.” Remus tried to fake a smile.
“He’s upset because I’ve been putting off telling you and Peter that I’m gay, Remus is bi, and that we’re dating.” Sirius revealed as if informing the others of the current day of the week.
Remus turned bright red as he hid his face in his hands. James started laughing.
“For once I’m not joking.” Sirius informed James.
“I…I…kn…know!” James collected himself. “You thought that was news? Dude you two have been giving each other moony eyes since second year! This will crush the girls though, you officially coming out that is, Sirius. They can’t seem to see it.”
“He _encourages_ them of course they don’t see it!” Remus sighed.
“Well, Lily does, but she knows you two.”
“Well now that he knows can the PDA continue?” Sirius asked hopefully.
“Alright, I’m going to leave you two now, just keep in mind you have 45 minutes til transfigurations.” James called to his friends, who were already occupied snogging.
They did however, somehow, make it to transfigurations on time, where the usual crowd of females surrounded Sirius. James laughed, as Remus marched over to his boyfriend, pushing through the mob of girls and, he now noticed, a few boys, and kissed him. A shocked silence fell over the crowd.
“Now, you’re starting the PDA.” Sirius smirked.
“Shut it.” Remus continued to snog him.
“Attention ladies! In case you’re still confused, Remus and Sirius here are dating! That’s right ladies, the ladies man is gay!” James announced, standing on his stool.
“Wonderful, Mr. Potter, now if you would please sit down, Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin please separate.” They reluctantly obeyed Professor McGonagall. “Now let’s get started.”
**Author's Note:**
> LINK
> LINK |
51cfe7124b91496b9bb415b932e2b28d | ['5b4c3e20510c4a568422b4c0dd103ef4'] |
Fifth Anniversary
**Author's Note:**
> I heard some people talking about how they refused to give the New Warriors a chance because of Stamford, and I wanted to let out a bit of my frustration. On mistake shouldn't rule out an entire series.
>
> Also, the Robbie/Vance is very gen, but feel free to wear shippy goggles like I do.
"Hey Spiderman!"
"I. Am. Not. Spiderman." Kaine didn't even look up from his cereal as Nova started calling for him from the couch.
"Yeah, okay, whatever Spidey. Come over here, Aracely and I are gonna watch the memorial thingy on tv."
"What are you talking about, Nova?"
"Come on! Don't you know what day it is?"
"I don't really care."
"It's been 5 years since Stamford happened. It's an important event to remember if we're going to be super heroes."
"What do you even know about it, aren't you like twelve?"
"Yes, and you're a clone that wasn't paying attention at the time, and Aracely doesn't remember it, so we're going to watch the memorial to see what's so important."
"Come onnn, Kaine, pleeaase?" Aracely grabbed Kaine's arm and pulled him over to the couch where the show was starting.
The television host started to talk. "Today marks the 5th anniversary of what happened here in Stamford, Connecticut. 612 people lost their lives in this event, many of them schoolchildren."
Vance walked in and poured himself some cereal, still tired and more or less dead to the world like he always was for ten minutes after he got up.
The screen was now showing the memorial and cemeteries covered in flowers and gifts. "People from all over the world gather to pay their respects to all the people now gone due to the event that sparked what people now call the Heroes Civil War."
Vance suddenly seemed much more awake as he jumped out of his chair and stood next to the couch. "Turn it off."
"What? Why?" Sam started whining and holding the remote away from Vance.
The reporter continued on the screen. "Here we have the footage directly prior to the event..."
"Oh. Sam, you should turn it off."
"Aracely, what are you talking about?"
"He's about to come in..." Vance's eyes widened and he turned to the door to see Robbie step into the room.
Just then, Robbie appeared on screen as well.
"These guys are totally out of our league man, no way we should be going in there!"
"But think of the ratings, Microbe! This could be the best episode of the entire second season!"
The real Robbie had his eyes glued to the screen and a horrible empty look on his face. Vance stood right next to him and was trying to get him to look away. Then everything on the screen was in flames and Robbie dropped to the ground.
"Thanks to the acts of these foolish so-called 'heroes', a revolution was sparked. So many lives lost. Here now to talk about that loss is Miriam Sharpe, mother of now deceased Damien Sharpe.
"I will never forget what happened five years ago today. My son is gone, and the loved ones of so many others as well. I regret that the Civil War happened and more violence was created, but we cannot let ourselves forget Stamford and all that happened because of it."
Kaine and Sam were looking back and forth from the tv to Robbie. Aracely just looked sad. Robbie was looking at the ground with Vance kneeling in front of him, trying to look into Robbie's eyes.
Aracely gingerly plucked the remote from Sam's hand and the tv went off. Vance growled over his shoulder. "Get out." The three obeyed.
"Robbie..."
"Vance." Robbie finally looked up. There was no expression or life in his eyes, and his voice held no emotion.
"You're not a monster. We've been over this."
"I know."
"No, Robbie, I don't think you do." Robbie looked away but Vance pulled him back to look in his eyes. "You made a mistake. Things went bad. But it wasn't your fault. You didn't go in there thinking someone would get hurt. You were stupid, yes, but never cruel. You're an amazing person Robbie, and my closest friend. I care about you so much, and you can't keep blaming yourself for this."
"Everyone else does."
"Everyone else is wrong. Go back to bed, and I'll be right there." Robbie nodded and slowly stood up before walking back into his and Vance's shared room.
Vance also stood and let Aracely, Sam, and Kaine back in. The three of them sat on the couch and Vance stood across from them. He began to explain.
"The New Warriors team before this one included Robbie and me. About two years before Stamford, a tv company approached us with an offer to make us into a reality tv show. I left, but the others stayed and accepted. We were all young and stupid, and to a group of teenagers fame and money was too much to resist.
"Robbie was in charge and clearly, he made a bad judgement call. Many people died, including the rest of the team besides him. The only ones who made it out were Robbie and Nitro. Nitro escaped and Robbie was stuck in jail. He became the most hated person in the country.
"The Super Human Registration Act was supposed to help. I was with Stark, but so many of my friends were with Cap... It became a mess. That was a horrible time, for everyone.
"After, I found Robbie again. He had been taken by Osborn and became Penance, Aracely knows about that. She can explain it later, because I..." Vance closed his wet eyes and looked down before taking a shaky breath and looking up again.
"Robbie and I became teachers at Avengers Academy. Robbie got better, but it was slow. Really slow. The Academy wasn't helping enough. I caught him trying to leave and we left together, just traveling around the country.
"When we saw you, Sam, flying by, at first we thought Rich was back, the old Nova, one of our teammates. The was when Robbie really started to get better, when he decided to become Speedball again. You know the rest.
"Robbie isn't healed, not completely. I don't know if he will ever be completely better. He will always be scarred by everything that happened, but he's a good person. Make your own decision about what you think of Stamford, or the Civil War, but know that Robbie never wanted to hurt anyone. Ever. And one mistake someone made as a teenager shouldn't define someone for the rest of their life."
Vance left the room without a backward glance.
**Author's Note:**
> Sorry if five years doesn't fit into the timeline, I guessed. If you have a better estimate, please let me know!
>
> Also, sorry about the lack of Mark and Selah. I couldn't cime up with a good reason for them to not already know about Stamford. I guess they're out on a date or something. | 8b0431bba1604d8582f9eb57026a7e50 | ['5b4c3e20510c4a568422b4c0dd103ef4'] |
After
They were going home. Finally. After a week of absolute insanity, stupidity, and bullshit the four of them were able to go home. Sure, it was just to visit, take a quick break, and pack up some necessities before returning to train at the base before they went to space (apparently? none of them have forgotten that they didn't sign up for this, but they suppose they kind of have to stick with it, for Adam's sake if nothing else), but they were still excited. Or at least, three of them were excited.
Zach definitely wasn't looking forward to explaining where he'd been. Maybe the whole world knew what they'd done, but Zach knew his asshole dad definitely wouldn't understand anything, except that Zach hadn't been there to clean up after him.
He stood in front of the house now, staring at the door. It was one of those houses that looks identical to all the others around, perfect little boxes for what were supposed to be perfect little families. _It's just for three days,_ he reminded himself. _Three days, and then you'll be back at the base_. And wasn't that strange to think about? He felt safer training to fight alien monsters to the death than he did at home.
He took a deep breath and opened the door. It swung forward, and he stepped inside. The lights were off in the hallway, but the fading sunlight was still bright enough to see. He heard the tv playing and slowly made his way towards the room his father must be in. Beer bottles littered the ground, and the closer Zach got to the living room the stronger the scent of cigarettes became.
He walked into the room and saw a figure slumped in the large chair in front of the tv, its back facing him.
"Dad? I'm home." Zach winced as the figure turned its head and his dad squinted. Zach flipped the light switch and recognition dawned in the man's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by anger.
"Where the fuck have you been?" the man slurred, starting to stand up.
"I'm sorry, after the game last week a lot of stuff happened. Did you see the aliens on the news? I helped fight them off." Maybe, if his dad heard Zach had saved the planet, he wouldn't be angry.
"Don't fuckin' lie to me. Tell the truth. And take whatever that thing on your arm is off, it makes you look even more stupid than you already are." He stumbled closer, hands curled into fists.
"Really Dad, I was one of the people to fight the aliens. That's what this is, I can't take it off-"
"I tell you to take it off, you fucking take it off!" His dad lunged a Zach pressed himself back into the wall. He smell the alcohol on his father's breath, bitter and all too familiar.
"I really can't-" the punch to the face, while expected, hurt like a motherfucker. It had been a while since his dad had hit him, Zach had been managing to keep him calm for a couple months now. Another fist slammed into Zach's stomach, and then to his side and he was on the ground, gasping for breath. He felt his arm with the laser be jerked up, and remembered that his arm was now a weapon. He could fight back, he would definitely win, and his dad would never touch him again... But could he really do that?
He had killed someone already, the doctor who was going to cut off his arm. He really hadn't actually meant to, it was an instinct to lash out and do what he could to free himself. Could he really incinerate his own father, no matter how horrible said father was?
The answer was no, and Zach resigned himself to another beating. Zach picked a lot of fights, and most of the time didn't back down, but he'd learned a long time ago when fighting back was and wasn't worth the extra pain, and generally with his dad resistance only ever made the man hit harder.
Zach's father gripped the laser and tried to pull it off Zach's arm, grunting when it didn't work. He kicked Zach twice in the stomach before resting a foot on Zach's arm and pulling at the laser again. The loud crack of bone startled the drunk and he fell back to the ground as Zach screamed and the laser went off, scorching a large burn mark into the opposite wall.
Zach pushed himself up on his other arm and stood shakily. He swayed for a moment before staggering into the hallway, stepping over his dazed father, leaving the house. He stood on the porch, knowing his dad was too lazy to follow, and assessed his injuries. His arm was definitely broken, his left eye swollen almost shut, and based off of how much breathing hurt, he had probably cracked a rib or two.
He needed to go... somewhere. The military base was the only place he really could go, wasn't it? But that was miles and miles away. He could call someone for a ride, but it had to be one of them, one of the other three Lazer Team members, because they needed to be able to get into the base.
Woody and Herman were probably still busy trying to fix up the boots, which left Hagan as the best option, especially since he (hopefully) wouldn't care enough to ask a lot of questions. As long as he didn't bring Mindy along it should be fine, Zach just really didn't want her to see him like this.
Zach pulled out his phone and called Hagan. It rang for a bit but Hagan eventually picked up.
"Zach, Mindy's busy and you can just call her on her phone anyways." Hagan sounded extremely annoyed, presumably because he believed Zach was trying to rub his relationship with Mindy in Hagan's face. |
a3087fdf782b4c04aa6cde791d036a3d | ['5b6147f0c49d4ac4aa2d9fc9d7a13483'] | Gerard couldn't really play guitar that well and just writing the lyrics by themselves wouldn't flow. He tried but nothing he wrote was good enough.
Mikey and Frank started asking questions about why he was so sleep deprived and drinking double the amount of coffee as before.
Of course, Gerard reassured them that he was fine. He didn't bother telling Mikey. Mikey probably already figured it out anyways.
Gerard was back to where he started. He had to come up with an idea to ask Frank to prom.
Next, Gerard just tried an easier approach.
Frank always complimented Gerard on his drawings whenever he saw them and often called the cartoonish doodles badass.
So, when he got home from school the next day, he immediately started working on a drawing. It took him hours, but it was finished, and he smiled.
He drew Frank in zombie form, something he knew for sure Frank would appreciate. Underneath he wrote out "Will you go to prom with me?" in curly letters.
Gerard walked into school a little earlier than usual, making Mikey wake up earlier just so he wouldn't have to walk alone.
The hallway was mostly empty, and Frank was nowhere to be seen. Quickly, he ran to Frank's locker, opening his locker with the combination he already knew, stuck the inside of the locker door, and took off down the hall.
Gerard was nervous all day. He didn't see Frank until his third hour class.
Gerard was practically shaking with nerves as Frank sat down next to him in his seat like usual. Frank didn't say anything at first, just smiled. Frank wasn't talking like he always did in this class before. He would always try to catch Gerard up on what he missed even though they hadn't gone but three hours without seeing each other.
Frank was frowning as he opened up his history text book to the page written on the board.
Gerard anxiously spoke up. "I - is everything okay?"
Frank looked over at Gerard and rolled his eyes, making Gerard's heart drop to the lowest pit of his stomach.
Great. Frank hated him now.
"Some assholes thought it would be funny to take all the shit out of my locker and shove me in there. God, I'm so pissed." Frank angrily dropped his head down on his desk.
Gerard took a deep breath. He hated it when people bullied Frank. Both of them have been picked on by the jocks for years now; that's why they became such good friends in the first place.
"I'm sorry Frank. I wish I was there," he whispered. Gerard wasn't sure if he was broken or relieved because Frank didn't see the drawing in his locker. It's like Gerard never tried asking Frank to prom.
"It's alright. There's nothing you could have done, Gee," Frank admitted sadly.
The bell rang and class started, leaving them both quiet.
Maybe he should just walk straight up to Frank and ask him out to prom. It was two days later and Gerard still didn't have any potential ideas.
The only bad thing about just asking Frank was that Gerard got too nervous. He tried to ask Frank one day after lunch but he stuttered, started panicking, and ended up asking him for a pencil instead. Not only that, but what if Frank rejected him? Gerard would be even more embarrassed and then half the school would know that Gerard Way was gay and lost his straight best friend, Frank Iero.
Gerard couldn't do that. At least if Gerard did something special, there's a better chance of Frank saying yes.
Gerard thought and thought, and now, prom was only a week away.
Gerard was pacing in the kitchen, tugging on his hair and desperately trying to think of something. He heard Mikey sigh behind him as he walked into the room.
"Gee if you're so worried, just go over to his house ask him. Just do it now so you don't have to worry about it anymore," Mikey tried to reason, patting his brothers shoulder in an attempt to calm him down.
"No! It has to be perfect or he won't say yes! What if I make it even worse!" Gerard tugged on his hair harder now.
Mikey sighed again and dropped his face in his hands. "What do you have to lose?" He looked back up at Gerard. "I know Frank, and he would never say no."
Gerard calmed himself down with deep breaths and dropped his hands from his hair, turning to Mikey. "Really?"
Mikey just nodded. "Really."
After a motivational talk with his brother, Gerard found himself standing under Frank's window with Starbucks in his hand and a rose in the other.
Gerard didn't really plan this out as one of his ideas. It was a last minute decision of his to drive to the store at ten o'clock at night, buy roses and Frank's order from Starbucks, and drive over to Frank's ask to ask him to prom. A couple of hours ago he would never have imagined himself doing this.
He was shaking with nerves. He thought of endless scenarios where Frank rejected him. Even if Frank did hate him afterwards, then they would go off to college soon and never see each other again. Maybe that would save them both the trouble, but it was the last thing he wanted to happen. Gerard couldn't possibly think about what his life would be like without Frank. He loved Frank and without him he would be alone.
Gerard pulled at the hem of his shirt, wishing he would have at least changed out of the clothes he wore to school that day.
Trying not to hyperventilate, Gerard knocked on Frank's window - one of the good things about having a one story house. | fadd25a458154f53a5176e44f8172e82 | ['5b6147f0c49d4ac4aa2d9fc9d7a13483'] | Frank pushed the other back by his shoulders, giving himself enough space to slide off of the countertop. He fisted his hands in Gerard's black hair and kissed him over and over again while backing him up against the wall in the small kitchen.
Things were going so fast it seemed, and Gerard was too lost in the feeling of Frank's mouth on his to even be aware of what was going on until Frank pulled their lips apart and dropped to his knees. He quickly yanked open his loose jeans and got his fingers inside the band of his underwear before Gerard stopped him.
"Frank, you - you really don't have to," He assured breathlessly, hands resting over Frank's.
Frank smirked. "Trust me, Gee. I want to."
He pulled his garments down to the floor before taking Gerard in his hand, his cock swollen and already leaking.
Gerard moaned at the feeling of his hand around him, just barely stroking, and his hot breath fanning over the tip. He only let himself imagine this a few times when he thought Frank was older and maybe one time later on when he knew his real age. It was late at night, he had a little to drink before bed, and he missed his best friend. He promised himself he'd never think of it again, but the truth was that nothing had made him come faster than picturing Frank in bed with him.
Frank teased him a little bit longer, barely tonguing the tip before suddenly sucking him in until he hit the back of his throat.
"Fuck!" Gerard cursed, followed by a high-pitched moan and more curse words. Frank wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, slowly pumping what he couldn't take in his mouth. Gerard was rather big, and it was clear that he struggled a bit with him in his mouth, but he truly didn't seem to mind. If Frank's moans were anything to go by, he seemed really into it too, and the fact that Frank was enjoying it made it even more pleasurable.
He dug his tongue into the slit before sinking farther down and hollowing his cheeks, his lips tightly stretched.
Gerard didn't think Frank had much experience with this, but he had him on the edge and his knees weak in no time. He didn't know whether it was because Frank was naturally good at this or because he hadn't had any action in months. Not to mention, it was Frank of all people between his thighs.
It only took a few more seconds before he felt his spine curve and his abdomen spasm. His entire body felt light like he was almost floating.
Frank didn't slow down or stop. He kept moving his hand and working his mouth and tongue until Gerard released. He swallowed down what he could, but some dripped out the corner of his mouth.
Gerard focused on his ragged breath, eyes closed and head tilted back against the wall. His legs felt weak and his body spent. He wanted to collapse on the floor after the best orgasm he had in probably a whole year, but he wanted to get Frank off more.
He looked down to see Frank had pulled his pants back up and was buttoning them, smiling smugly up at him because he managed to make a thirty-year-old man come under three minutes time. His eyes were almost drooping, and there was a trail of come trickling down his chin.
Gerard didn't know how he got so fucking lucky.
He pulled Frank up by wrists and picked him up again to place him on the countertop.
"Don't look so cocky yet, Frankie," He whispered in his ear before undoing the button and zipper on his skinny jeans. He only managed to get them down to his knees because they were so tight. He wasn't wearing underwear, and of course, he wasn't. Frank had probably been planning this for weeks, and he knew he would eventually get him to cave.
He slowly wrapped his fingers around Frank. His cock was soft, hard, and flushed red over the tip. Gerard almost felt like a creep for enjoying the sight because it was obviously a _young_ male's cock. His pubic hair was still sparse and soft unlike most older men's. It was smooth and paler than the rest of his skin. It was proportionate to Frank, and it looked like he could easily deep throat him.
So, he did.
It was a bit of an awkward angle since Frank was on the counter, but Gerard got on his knees and took him in his mouth. Frank pulled his hair and moaned loud enough to probably wake the neighbors through the paper thin walls. Not that he cared because it was one of the hottest things he ever heard.
He managed to take all of Frank in, swallowing around him and hollowing his cheeks. He used one hand to grab Frank's hip and the other to reach between his legs and cup his balls.
Frank's choked off gasps and moans turned into almost a loud scream, and he bucked into Gerard's mouth, his thighs tensing and raising him up on the counter. A few moments later he felt the warm liquid in the back of his mouth and down his throat as he swallowed it down greedily, loving the taste.
Frank pulled him up by his hair and brought their lips together in a sloppy kiss.
"Holy shit," Frank mumbled once they separated, panting into each other's mouths.
Frank reached down and wiggled back into his jeans. Gerard made a mental note to disinfect the counter later.
"I can't believe that happened," Gerard admitted, dreamily. He caught Frank's gaze which looked almost worried for a second, but he kissed it away. "I mean it in a good way. I can't believe that _finally_ happened." |
1c1d75e444084c4cbded9a971fca3d99 | ['5b63b947c5fd4214a26f8e6448b40044'] | Nicolas lay on the grass on a hill just outside of Whitewood. Orion sat beside him, hugging their knees and looking about the landscape. Nicolas kept his gaze on the gray-blue sky, and the fat, lazy clouds. It was a beautiful, beautiful day. He couldn’t help but think that if he had just picked a direction and run during his time in the cult, he likely would have come across this town, or another one nearby. He would never have had to spend months being tortured, beaten, and starved. Instead he had stayed, injured when he had initially arrived, but for all that he was able to reject the cult's teachings _now_ , Nicolas had to admit to himself that in some ways, they had gotten through to him. In some ways, particularly regarding their impenetrable fervor and penchant for self-mutilation, Orion repulsed Nicolas. Knowing, and witnessing, what they were willing to do to themselves and others for the sake of their beliefs churned Nicolas' stomach. And having known that behavior would have been expected of him as well had made Nicolas feel even worse. But he could not deny the magnetism of their character, one that expected nothing but compliance to the one man and the many gods they served. Orion hardly comprehended the possibility of dissension within the exclusive group of the cult. And when everyone around him expected him to join their family too, all thoughts of escape had retreated to the back of him mind, and moment-by-moment survival became paramount. Only when his life was in immediate, violent, external danger from the fire had he fled. And that in itself was mostly instinct. He slammed a fist into the earth beside him. It hardly made a sound and much of the impact just went back into his hand, which frustrated him further.
Would he be able gather supplies for the next leg of the journey now, marked as he was? The cut was throbbing, and he suspected the blade had been laced with something. It was true, he had robbed Cato. On his way to the tavern when he had first arrived in town he had walked past Cato, who had been pestering some wretch on the street. Nicolas had angled his path so that Orion’s legs dangled close enough to brush against the man, distracting him from the feeling of his purse being lifted. It had been easy enough, and he had been able to hide the pouch under the drape of Orion’s robes as he carried them. He had used the money to pay for their room, and all of their food so far, as well as parchment and quills. He had burned his own robe, had never met the town’s seamstress. It was a waste of resources, but Nicolas could not bear the thought of such a symbol of suffering existing in any form but... ashes. Ashes, and soot. Memories of that scent, not so far off from their source, entered Nicolas' mind, tingling his nose once more. Nicolas thumped the back of his head against the ground.
He wanted to forget and move on with his life. A journal he had picked up from his explorations in the past had described islands off the northwest coast of the main continent. Though he had never heard of them before, the information provided on how to sail to them were detailed enough that Nicolas had to believe it was true. He ached to travel there himself. But he was landlocked with panic-inducing memories, and someone stuck to his side like a burr whose mere presence could bring about such panic.
In a terrible and dangerous turn, Nicolas considered leaving Orion behind. _It’s what you do, anyway_ , said a voice in his head. _What’s one more? They wouldn’t even care._ It was true, Nicolas thought. Orion could not possibly have any care towards another, one who disagreed with them so deeply, to be affected by their absence. Nicolas was holding them back from whatever it is they wanted to do, after all. If they truly insisted on running back to a burned-down temple and cutting themselves up and pulling out their own teeth, who was he, really, to stop them? Orion was a grown individual; they should be allowed to make their own decisions. If they didn’t know or refused to acknowledge there were even decisions and choices to make outside of what they had been taught, that wasn’t Nicolas’ fault. The people responsible for that were dead, and Orion would have died with them if Nicolas hadn’t took them when he escaped. If they went back there to kill themselves, well - they would have died somehow anyway.
Nicolas heard the grass rustle beside him and he was brought out of the visions in his mind and back into the present. He wondered what Orion was doing right now. If they were praying, their arms had to be raw and bloodied by now. He could not imagine what else Orion even thought about or had inclinations to do.
When he felt a tickle against his temple he wiped at it and realized he was crying again. The fat clouds still floated slowly overhead.
“Orion,” he said. There was no acknowledgement or sound of movement, but Nicolas knew Orion’s eyes alone had traveled over to him.
"I don't believe in anything Engel taught at the temple. I'm not a member of his cult. Not just because it's gone - I never believed it. I didn't want to be there, and you saw me do things that may have made it seem like I was... like the rest of you, but anything I did was so that I wouldn't be hurt worse than I already had been. I've been trying to explain this to you, but I need you to understand this more than anything else: I don't believe in the gods. I'm not one of you." | 2a3d4eb3564d4115a9996bce7c72d7d6 | ['5b63b947c5fd4214a26f8e6448b40044'] | Orion lay trembling, curled up alone in mother’s pallet. They were cold, and afraid, and they hurt all over from their lesson. They wanted to cry, but they were afraid that the Exalted Engel would see, and know. And Orion would be punished again. That made them want to cry as well. They bit their lip and pulled their limbs tighter around themselves. Where was mother? Would she ever come back?
Night terrors plagued them whenever they managed to fall asleep that night. At times they would cry out in fear, or call out for mother. She never came to wrap her arms around them and tell them everything would be alright. There were no gentle kisses on their head, no hand rubbing their back. That night Orion and mother’s cellmate, Vela, reached over and hit Orion until they learned to be silent.
*
“For decades now that accursed hole in the sky has plagued us,” the Exalted Engel said. He looked out over the gathering of disciples beneath him, arranged in a circle surrounding the stone slab of an altar in the clearing near the cliffs by the sea. Hisses and whispers arose at the mention of their celestial enemy. “It has poisoned our soil, faded the sky’s light, and corrupted humanity's hearts and minds.” Disciples murmured their assent. “Most importantly, it has upended the natural order of our world and the next, by evidence of the disappearance of the stars. The gods that once ruled over this earth seem to have vanished-abandoned us, even.” Engel paused in his slow stroll across the elevated ledge on one side of the altar. He took an unlit candle and transferred to it the flame from the only other source of light in the growing darkness of the evening. Two candles supported by tall poles now flanked the long ends of the altar. “But we know that is not the case. The gods are still here, and alive. Though they have been weakened, they are not gone. Perhaps they cannot protect us or bless us as they used to, but that is only what we deserve for what we have done to this world, and to each other.” He lit another candle. “Only through our piety and sacrifice can we hope to appease the gods. By offering ourselves to them, we give them our strength. Our lifeblood fuels their return.”
“When the gods are reborn, they will wipe out the black sun, and restore our world to the way it once was. No longer will we live with hunger or sickness, war or greed. Our crops will prosper, and our hearts will be full.”
Engel stopped his pacing once four candles for each corner of the altar had been lit. "Vela, if you would come forward, and kneel before the altar and your gods."
Vela emerged from the circle, which closed in behind them. “Disciple, you have been a part of our mission and a member of our family for over twenty winters. You have demonstrated loyalty, submission, dedication, obedience, and honor not only to your peers and elders, but more importantly, to the gods themselves. On this the moonless night, may your offering of body and soul bring us closer to the return of the stars." Engel produced a small dagger so pristine it could have been used as a looking glass. Vela took it with a bow.
Vela’s corpse was laid bare upon the altar, underneath the black, moonless sky. Not a half hour before they had sliced open the artery in their upper arm after uttering the prayer of offering. Within minutes they had bled out, drenching the altar and some nearby disciples in a spray of blood. A calm ocean breeze brushed against the skirts of the robes of those circled around to watch.
"The offering of the soul is complete. We step forward, now, to collect the blood and proceed with the prayer for the burning of the dead."
Disciples gathered round to scoop up some of the blood that had pooled on the surface of the altar. In unison they spoke the prayer as they covered their faces entirely in blood.
"Hear us, o gods," all said. "See that we offer before you the blood of Vela, who has given themselves up freely in order to beseech you to return. Protect us from the black sun. Return to us, o gods."
Engel took one candle and held a vial of oil in the other hand. Sparingly he dripped some of the oil across Vela's bare corpse. In the moist northern climate along the coast, fires were not easy to light. The body anointed with sacred oil encouraged the flames as they began to consume skin, tissue, and blood. Sparks and flames carried pieces of the body up towards the sky until disappearing into the darkness. The disciples watched the body burn, waiting attentively for the flames to engulf the corpse entirely. While this went on, the Exalted Engel began the chant for the sacrifice.
“Vela, we give back unto you,” the Exalted Engel began.
“A body whence came from you,” the disciples answered.
“Light from light.”
“Spirit to spirit.”
“Our blood is yours, Vela.”
“Accept our offering of blood.” |
c7dcce4b52904b9499a059a93d179d42 | ['5b7cfb1f95af4c2ebc512fd9c388fe89'] | “I like that name, Tae.” The nickname accidentally slips from his lips, he quickly takes a look at Taehyung to make sure it was okay to even call him that.
“It’s okay Gukkie, I like your name too.” Jeongguk frowns. “Gukkie?” He ask but smiles, “my nickname for you was better.”
“Really huh?” Taehyung sees how the boy nods his head proudly, making both of them laugh.
It’s going pretty good so far, both of them have fun and aren’t regretting anything, yet. Let’s just see how the rest of the night will go.
Jeongguk opens the door of his car for Taehyung to take a seat. “Such a gentleman.” He teases as he steps in the car, hearing the door closing behind him again.
Jeongguk takes a seat behind the steering wheel, “I know I am, you don’t have to tell me.”
Taehyung smiles, only to find himself staring.
The boy was wearing a black blouse, the first three buttons unbuttoned, exposing a little of his chest and collarbones.
The tight leather jeans and the accessories were finishing the whole picture. He for sure thought about his outfit before coming, which Taehyung appreciates a lot.
The strong smell of perfume filling the car is also one of his weaknesses, not gonna lie. God, he only knows this, basically, stranger for what? Fifteen minutes? And he’s already having a crush on him like a girl would scream over a high school crush.
Jeongguk tries to focus on the road but those two eyes staring at him deeply is making him nervous. He doesn’t even dare to look back, he kind of thinks it’s cute but it’s such a distraction and the feeling of looking back is something that he’s struggling with right now. He’s trying to fight it back.
Making a comment about it would probably give the wrong intentions, he might become an asshole if he does that. So never mind.
The restaurant wasn’t that far anyways, maybe he can make it without embarrassing himself or the other.
Just when thinking that, the restaurant becomes clearer for the both of them.
“Are you sure it’s here?” Taehyung asks, getting out of his thoughts, looking at the place.
“Yes? Wait.” Jeongguk goes into his bag, looking for his phone to let him see that he’s at the right address.
“See?” It is indeed the right address but it’s weird, the lights aren’t on, no one is inside, you can’t hear laughter or people talking and there are no cars at all.
It seems like it’s an abandoned building or at least it looks like it is.
“Oh my fucking god are you serious?” Jeongguk is busy on his phone, the sudden voice startled Taehyung as he takes a look.
“What?”
He isn’t getting an answer, the only thing that Jeongguk is trying to do is to figure out why they would send them to a closed restaurant, so he calls Namjoon.
“Hyung, yea, it’s Jeongguk, I mean the date is going well..” Taehyung blushes a little when the word ‘date’ got mentioned in their phone call although he can’t understand what Namjoon says at all.
“..but the date could’ve been better if we were in the restaurant. Hyung! No! Listen, let me talk-“ Jeongguk rolls his eyes and smiles at Taehyung who understands that Namjoon is probably asking him how that’s possible and where they are now.
“Hyung the restaurant is closed! You could’ve at least checked their website before telling us to go there! .. no, I don’t know what to do now, how would I know?” A loud voice screams through the phone so Jeongguk puts it away from his ear until it stops and continues on, “we will figure something out on our own don’t worry, you guys helped enough.. yes, bye.”
An awkward silence falls between the two who are lost. What was supposed to be a cute date for the two, ended up in a situation where they never expected to be in.
“Hey.” Taehyung is the first one to break the silence, immediately cutting the awkward tension. “We could go to the park and walk around. It’s a beautiful summer night and you know, I like walking in the park with these kind of evenings..”
Jeongguk nods in agreement. He knows exactly to what park he wants to take Taehyung. Usually he runs every night in the park to keep himself in shape and he found a beautiful place to sit the other day. He didn’t stop by though, because why would he sit there alone?
Now he has Taehyung, someone who surprisingly has a lot in common with Jeongguk.
“Let’s go.”
The park wasn’t that far at all, and because it’s around 9 PM right now also not many people are there. Some are just going for a walk, like the two, and others are with their dogs playing around.
“So, Taehyung, tell me something about yourself.” Taehyung laughs as they walk together in the park, the sun almost fading away, with each step they take, their shoulders brush against the other.
“You want me to tell you something about myself?” He repeats, finding the adorable reaction of Jeongguk, who looks down at the floor shyly, cute.
“Well yeah. Only if you want to of course, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or something so you don’t have t-“
“It’s okay, really.”
They find the perfect place to sit, their view is perfect as they can see how the sun slowly goes down, making space for the stars and the moon that appears right in the middle.
“I don’t really know what I would like to tell though, okay wait let me think..”
Taking a seat on the bench, Jeongguk waits for the story to begin, seeing how Taehyung pouts while thinking of something, something that would be a good start. | 4ac15eea9e4a44eba55d7faef33e747b | ['5b7cfb1f95af4c2ebc512fd9c388fe89'] | “come here Taehyungie.” and without doubts he feels how Taehyung goes under the covers next to him, facing Jeongguk who stares at his beautiful face features.
His eyes are sparkly because of the moon that shines in the dark room from the window, the only little light they have, his eyelashes that are curled up, making his eyes bigger.
Then his lips, they seem so soft but he doesn’t have the courage to kiss him and see if it’s true.
“Gukkie, aren’t you cold?” There is a little frown between his eyebrows as he whispers into Jeongguk’s ear, shooting chills down his spine.
“Just a little hyung, it’s okay, your blankets and many pillows keep me warm.” Jeongguk let’s out a small giggle, it was a lie. He was trying to hide his body under the sheets just to make sure Taehyung wouldn’t see him shivering.
However, the boy comes closer to Jeongguk and wraps his arms around him without hesitation.
Taehyung makes himself comfortable already, not being aware of how much control he has over Jeongguk.
“Hug me bwack pwease..” Taehyung mumbles as he puts his head on Jeongguk’s chest, his soft hair touching the younger’s chin.
He feels how Jeongguk puts his arm over his shoulder, slowly starting to play with his hair. Taehyung looks up at Jeongguk who suddenly stops when they make eye contact.
“I-I’m sorry I won’t-“
“It’s okay, please continue it feels nice.” and so he does while Taehyung watches Jeongguk.
It makes things awkward at first but then Jeongguk gets used to the sparkly eyes staring at him with much love.
“Has someone ever told you how pretty you are up close?” Taehyung asks in a serious yet soft tone, making Jeongguk speechless as he stops doing what he’s doing just to take a glance at him.
“N-no.. why?” The stutters weren’t planned and at that moment he could slap himself for doing so, but small laughter fills the room, making Jeongguk even more red than he probably already is.
“Mhm nothing, I just think.. you are.” There was no time for Jeongguk to let out a small gasp when he feels soft lips on his. The whole world stops at that moment. It’s like he’s somewhere else.
Jeongguk finds himself kissing back with the courage that he didn’t know he had, feeling how Taehyung smiles between the kiss.
They lock their legs together to leave absolutely no space between them.
Taehyung’s hand goes from Jeongguk’s back up to his neck to even deepen the kiss and by the way that Jeongguk plays with his hair again he can tell that he likes it, or even loves it.
Slowly Taehyung pulls back, immediately locking his eyes with the person in front of him.
They don’t say anything, they are just lost in each other’s eyes and only focusing on the other as if nothing matters anymore.
Jeongguk never stopped playing with Taehyung’s hair, he didn’t want to and neither did Taehyung.
He absolutely loved the feeling of this new level of comfort. It was something that neither of them ever felt before, but now they feel it, and they couldn’t get enough of it.
They couldn’t get enough of each other.
**Author's Note:**
> I hope you liked it, yes it’s short but I just wanted some soft Taekook okay :( anyways tips and advice is really appreciated, comment your thoughts! |
30ec5a9190aa46be8c9afb99dbcd0162 | ['5b80299272d14429bbc5fa75aca33ea6'] | After that, Sam never saw Bucky without a long sleeve shirt and glove on his left hand, no matter how much the jungle's humidity seeped into the base. He often caught Bucky staring at the arm in disdain when he thought no one was looking, prompting Sam to utilize his amazing distraction skills.
When he caught Bucky glaring at the arm as if the intensity of his gaze could blow the metal off for a second time, Sam called out, "Hey, old man, ready to get the shit kicked out of you in Mario Kart?"
Of course he couldn't back down from a challenge like that.
* * *
Bucky obviously loved his long hair. Anyone could tell by the way he tended to the long locks until it looked like it he belonged in a Pantene commercial. Once Sam had used Bucky's shower when his was broken, and there had been various shampoos and conditioners, the counter littered with hair products that he didn't even understand.
Sam had a few theories on the hair obsession. One was that Bucky was just a diva (he used this theory when he wanted to annoy the ex-assassin). But, he _actually_ believed it was because Bucky's hair was his choice. After so long of having no say in his life, being little more than a tool, putting effort into something so trivial simply because he chose to had its obvious appeals.
That's why Sam nearly had a heart attack when Bucky walked down the hall with short hair. It was gelled into a style straight out of the 30s, and Sam saw the guy depicted in the Smithsonian who had fought alongside the Howling Commandos. Sure, Bucky and Nat had disappeared into his room about an hour ago, but he had no reason to think _this_ would be the outcome.
"What the fuck?" he breathed, still in mild shock.
Bucky smirked, casting a sidelong look at Sam. "Close your mouth, Sam, it's rude to stare."
And Sam suddenly believed all of the historians who wrote about Bucky's charm and luck with the ladies. He flipped him off but was still too surprised to form an actual comeback.
Steve walked into the room and saw Natasha. "Oh, hey Nat! I didn't know you were-" His gaze shifted over to Bucky, and the words died in his throat. His expression froze and his mouth dropped open slightly. He stood motionless for a few moments, eyes slowly widening. It would have been hilarious if it wasn't so incredibly adorable, and fuck Bucky for making Sam actually call Captain America adorable.
"Buck?" he spoke quietly, still not moving.
Bucky smiled and ran a hand through his hair. "Hey, Stevie, what's goin' on?"
That broke Steve's trance, and he quickly walked forward and enveloped Bucky in a hug before holding him at arms length, drinking in the sight. "You cut your hair?" he asked.
Bucky rolled his eyes. "No, it fell out."
Steve laughed and ran a hand through Bucky's hair. "Geez, Buck, you look-" Words failed him and he simply shook his head, a huge grin splitting his face. Bucky smiled back just as wide, lightly punching Steve's bicep and slinging an arm around his shoulders, even though Steve now had a few inches on him.
Sure, Bucky had loved his hair, but Sam knows what Bucky loves more.
* * *
Sam rolled out of bed, yawning as he stretched his arms above his head. He squinted at the clock, its bright red numbers reading 3:32am. He rolled he head from side to side, cracking the kinks in his neck, before shuffling out of his room, on a mission for a cup of water.
He tiptoed to the deck door to check on Bucky, which had become a habit any time he woke up in the middle of the night. Bucky was usually just writing in a notebook or gazing at the forest, occasionally slumped over asleep with Sam's blanket wrapped around him.
When cracked open the door, an odd wheezing sound reached his ears. Losing any previous caution, Sam quickly ran outside, glancing around until he saw Bucky. He was leaned against the wall, arms wrapped around himself protectively. His eyes were unfocused and unseeing, his chest rising and falling rapidly with gasping breaths.
Sam rushed over to his side, any previous drowsiness gone. He kneeled next to Bucky, grabbing his shoulders in an attempt to bring him out of his own head. "Bucky," he called calmly. He had worked with the VA long enough to know a panic attack when he saw one.
At the sudden contact, Bucky surged backwards, pressing himself back against the wall. He blinked rapidly until his eyes refocused, landing on Sam. His eyes portrayed all of his panic, and his chest heaved with breaths that were too short.
Sam grabbed Bucky's right hand and pressed it to his own chest. "It's alright, just breathe with me, okay? Match my breaths."
Sam took long, slow breaths, and Bucky's first attempts to copy this failed. Sam could feel how fast his heart was beating through his grip on Bucky's wrist. "It's okay, you're safe. We're at T'Challa's base in Wakanda. Steve's safe. Everyone's okay, everything is alright," Sam murmured in a calm, strong voice.
Eventually, Bucky's breathing began to smooth out. He dropped his head and curled his hands into fistfuls of his hair. "Oh my God, I shot him. He was begging me to remember him and I _didn't remember_ and I kept going, what if I didn't stop, what if I killed him? I shot Natasha, I ripped your wing out, _I almost killed him_. I should've died when I fell off that train, the world would've have been much better off."
Sam rubbed his shoulder gently. "You didn't do any of those things; it wasn't _you_." | 91774eb9080d461fb11dcbf1f58c9e79 | ['5b80299272d14429bbc5fa75aca33ea6'] | Izaya punched him in the chest, eyes locked on the suitcase. "A bomb, Shizuo, we have to get out, quick-"
Shizuo still looked confused, but Izaya's urgent tone deterred him from questioning anything. He turned and dove back out of the doorway. The two slammed into the hallway, and Shizuo stood up, sprinting down the corridor with Izaya still in his arms.
Just as they reached the end of the hallway, Izaya's senses were overwhelmed by a deafening explosion.
3. Chapter 3
Hearing an explosion from fifteen feet away while having a concussion was akin to torture. The deafening sound made Izaya's head feel like it was splitting in two, and all he could do was scrunch his eyes shut and try not to pass out from the sudden onslaught of pain. After a few minutes, Izaya's head reverted back to only an incessant pounding instead of shooting pain, and his ears stopped ringing.
He opened his eyes, finally able to wonder why he wasn't engulfed in flame. He squinted through the haze of smoke, registering that he was on the floor of the elevator. Shizuo must've gotten them in there, manhandling the doors shut behind them. This kept out the flames, but the smoke snaked through the cracks of the metal door. Shizuo was already recovered from the shock and sound of the blast, being the freak of nature he is, and he was walking around the small confines of the elevator, trying to find a way out of their situation.
"Don't you know you're not supposed to take the elevator during a fire?" Izaya spat, slightly panicking as the room was steadily heating up, thinking about how they were effectively in a huge oven.
Shizuo turned around, frowning irritably. "Feel free to go back out there," he countered, gesturing to the metal doors that were slightly tinged red, super-heated by the flames.
Izaya scowled and pushed himself up, adrenaline masking any further pain. "Any more bright ideas, then, protozoan?"
Shizuo's only answer was spinning around to slam on the elevator's buttons with unnecessary force. Izaya rolled his eyes when the elevator didn't budge, because _duh_. He sighed and looked up at the maintenance hatch on the ceiling that led to the elevator shaft. It was their only shot.
"Shizu-chan, see that hatch up there? Open it."
Shizuo gave him a confused look, but obliged wordlessly. The hatch was chained shut, but with one swift hit from Shizuo, it popped open easily. "What now, flea?"
Izaya looked through the hatch at the elevator's thick metal cable and sighed. "We're going to go one floor up and hope the fire hasn't made it to the other stairway yet."
Shizuo nodded, following Izaya's gaze. "We'll climb the cord?"
"Well, we're certainly not going to fly," he said sarcastically, flinching when there was a loud crash from outside the elevator. Not needing any further prompting, Shizuo pulled himself up into the elevator shaft, reaching a hand down for Izaya.
Izaya reluctantly grabbed his hand, wincing as he was roughly wrenched up into the elevator shaft. Once the pair were both up there, Shizuo turned his back to Izaya and bent down slightly.
"What the hell are you doing?" Izaya asked.
Shizuo looked over his shoulder, frowning. "Get on my back. The building is on fire, fucking flea. It's way faster this way. So, swallow your damn pride and just get on."
Izaya hated listening to Shizuo, but the crashing sounds were growing more frequent as the fire devoured the building, and Izaya hated burning to death a lot more. So, avoiding Shizuo's eyes, he climbed onto the taller man's back, linking his arms tightly around his neck. Izaya instinctively thought about how easy it would be to strangle Shizuo from this position, but he still needed the monster's help to get out of the building, so he restrained himself.
As soon as Izaya was secure, Shizuo jumped up and grabbed the cable, climbing up to the next floor in seconds. Once they reached the next door, Shizuo gripped the cable with one hand while wrenching the metal doors open with the other. Izaya hated Shizuo's unnatural strength, but in that moment, he was profoundly grateful for it. Not that he'd ever admit that out loud.
Shizuo swung them off the cord, landing on the upper floor. Izaya moved to slide off Shizuo's back, but Shizuo hooked his arms under Izaya's legs, stopping his descent. Izaya opened his mouth to complain, but all that came out were hacking coughs. On this floor, the smoke was much thicker, and it was getting hard to breathe. Shizuo jogged down the hallway, jumping over the parts of the floor that had already collapsed.
They quickly reached the stairway, and Izaya was relieved. The black smoke was making his lungs burn, and breaths were getting harder to pull in. Shizuo seemed unaffected so far, and Izaya once again found himself frustratingly appreciative of Shizuo's monstrous capabilities.
Shizuo sprinted down the stairs. Thankfully, though the flames had begun licking through the doorway to the staircase, they had yet to block the path. Shizuo easily pushed his way through the crowd of other residents making their way down the staircase, and Izaya had a slightly delirious mental image of riding an angry bull through a crowd.
Finally, they reached the lobby. Outside, there was a large crowd gathering in front of the building to gawk at the spectacle, the sound of incoming sirens blaring in the distance. Izaya couldn't even find it in him to be embarrassed that half of Shinjuku was witnessing him receive a piggy back ride from Shizuo Heiwajima. He was too consumed by the relief that he could breathe fresh air again. |
d02a6933416e472a837c9eb7dec26d80 | ['5b90a615d2c54315b1b82f4610a13688'] | Savior
**Author's Note:**
> So... This probably isn't that good, but I just wanted to try my hand at writing a fanfic so it's not very explicit. It's very short, I'll probably come back and add more and edit. I'm debating if I want a second part or not. I didn't really have time to pre read so I just decided to post it, so if you notice any spelling or grammar mistakes, please feel free to tell me!
Nikki was fucked up.One minute he was jumping around with Tommy, chatting with a few girls, the next he was falling on the couch across from Mick, who was more focused on drinking and playing his guitar then the party at large.
Nikki reached for the zipper on his boots, wanting them off, but his body just didn’t want to work with him. He gave up after a few minutes and just let his body fall limp. Mick’s playing soothing him into a state of rest as people rushed past him. He could hear Tommy laughing his ass off and some girls laughing with him. How annoying…
Don’t get Nikki wrong, he loved partying and he loved the chicks, but there was something about being in Mick’s company that just made the party scene feel boring. Maybe it was just his intoxicated state that was making him feel this way.
Suddenly, there were hands on him and his body was being lifted up from the couch bridal style. Nikki opened his eyes expecting to see Doc, but instead it was someone he didn’t know. The man large and almost bear like. Nikki shook his head. This isn’t right, he thought as the man carried him through the crowd. Nikki tried to grab at someone, but his hands refused to do anything.
Nikki closed his eyes, and when he opened them he was in one of the bedrooms being placed down on a bed, the man crawling up on him. Nikki squirmed, No…
“You’re so beautiful.” The man whispered in his ear, beginning to lick ear lobe.
Nikki finally got his hands to move, pressing the against the man’s chest. “Off…” He mumbled.
The man just ignored him continuing to kiss his way down Nikki’s throat and then back up meeting at his mouth. Nikki tried to turn his head away, but the man gripped his hair, keeping him still while shoving his tongue into his mouth.
It was when the man’s other hand made its way down into his pants that Nikki started to push at him again. “No…”
*******************
It was just another party, new people but same alcohol, drugs, groupies. But something tonight was different for Mick, something didn’t feel right. He stopped playing a few strings on his guitar, and looked around the room doing a headcount, Tommy was on the couch doing another line, and Vince just strolled into the bathroom with a woman tailing him. But as he turned his head to the other couch where Nikki was just a minute ago passed out, there was no one.
Mick continued to look around, tried to see if he could hear Nikki’s laugh or see him anywhere. But there was no sign of him. Finally, Mick got up with a bad feeling in his stomach.
“Tommy, where’s Nikki?”
“I don’t know dude! Probably off with some chick!” He laughs whipping his nose and falling back onto the couch laughing.
“Fucking drummer,” Mick rolled his eyes, walking away from the too far gone drummer.
“You see Nikki?”
“Anyone seen Nikki?”
No luck, no one in the party had seen him since he had been on the couch. Finally, Mick decided to check the bedrooms, maybe Nikki got up and managed to make it over to one of them. But wouldn’t Mich have heard that, Nikki was still in his red boots from their performance. Surely if he got up, Mick would have heard his shoes….
“Nikki!” Mick starts to yell as he enters the more empty hallways, the only people there were passed out on the floor.
“No…”
It was faint, but Mick knows he heard it. He could place Nikki’s voice anywhere. Mick followed the soft voice of pleads. When he finally arrived at the door they were coming from. He placed his hand on the door and swung it open, “Nikki?”
Nikki was lying on the bed, his makeup smudged and eyes totally out of it. But Mick was mostly focused on what was on top of Nikki, more importantly who. Nikki’s hands were pushing on another’s man body’s, while the man had one hand between Nikki’s thighs, another gripping his his dark locks. The man looked up at Mick at the door.
“Who the fuck are you?” The man growled.
Mick just looked at Nikki then the man, then he just reacted. He swung his guitar at the man, and once he fell to the floor Mick kicked at his face. The man was yelling holding his nose, and cursing at Mick.
“Get the fuck out. I ever see you again and I’ll kill you.” Mick growled at him, stomping his foot into the man’s stomach. When the man stood up, Mick gripped his guitar ready to hit him again if he needed too, but the man just wobbled out of the room. Mick quickly made his way to Nikki on the bed, “Nikki, baby.”
Nikki blinks, looking at Mick with wet eyes. “Mick.”
“Hey,” Mick let his hand brush Nikki’s hair gently. “I’m here, relax.” He sits on the bed, letting Nikki curl up in a ball next to him. | fdf24cde97e54cfb8b33e5d6632081fd | ['5b90a615d2c54315b1b82f4610a13688'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> My friend brought up Nikki giving Mick a lap dance and I couldn't get it out of my head. So, this is for you C.
> (I'm having a hard time with the second chapter of Savior so I figured I would try to write some other stuff till any ideas come to me. Once again not Beta, so there are probably plenty of writing errors.)
> Enjoy!
Mick was completely over the night, was over the women thirsting after the band, over going to a stripclub at every city. Hell, most of the time during the lapdance that Tommy bought for him he was asleep under his shades from the long flight over. Sure some days it was fun and he gets his rocks off, but days like this one far outnumbered those fun ones.
He now sat in the back waiting for Vince to finish fucking whatever stripper in the back, Tommy who is god knows where, and Nikki who is right in his line of sight getting a lapdance. But there was something different. It was like he was studying her every movement rather than enjoying it.
Mick took another swing of his Jack Daniels, grumbling at anyone who tried to talk to him. He wasn’t in the mood for these fucking idiots.
Mick was about to take a quick nap again when he felt a weight on him and his sunglasses being taken off.
“Look sweetheart- Nikki?” Mick raised an eyebrow to his mate on his lap.
He smiled drunkenly, rubbing his face into his neck, then turned his head a bit and nodded it in a certain direction. When Mick looked over it struck him what was happening.
Vince was currently getting another lapdance, and the girl was clearly chatting up his ego. This was a game Mick knew well, Nikki seemed to have a love of mocking any conversation Vince had with chicks and he only ever let Mick play the game with him. Something about having the best Vince voice…
Once Nikki got a hang of copying her motions with her hips, he followed her movie to whisper in the other’s ear. “Are you in the band?”
Mick smirked, it always started like this. “Ha, What do you fuckin think?”
Nikki laughed keeping his eyes on the other two, following her every move as she whipped her hair back. Mick decided to do the same and all of Vince’s movements. Hands trailing down Nikki’s back. Nikki bent his back against said hand like the dancer, hips thrusting up a bit with the motion, than coming right back up in time with the music.
“You ever been with a lead singer before sweetheart?” Mick’s hands landed on Nikki’s ass lifting him up and bringing him closer like Vince did to the stripped. Of course it wasn’t exactly as smooth as the young singer due to his bones, but he still managed. Nikki grinded down on his hands, biting his cheek to his smile, not wanting to break character.
“Not one like you baby.” Another thrust up and down.
Mick shuddered at the nickname, hoping it wasn’t noticeable to the drunk and high bass player. He also hoped that his hard on wasn’t either. Nikki continued to follow the woman’s grinding motions, turning himself around like her and placing his back against Mick’s chest, hand hooking around the back of Mick’s neck. Mick might have asked why Nikki was so good at this if he wasn’t intoxicated himself. Mick was so caught up in Nikki he almost missed Vince whispering in the strippers ear, and said the first thing that came to mind.
“How about I take you to my hotel?”
Nikki turns his head a bit to be closer to Mick’s,Nose brushing up the rim of Mick’s own, and hot breath on his face. Mick noticed he was losing his matching pace with the stripper. “Yes.”
2. Chapter 2
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Vince is being a bitch in rehearsals and it's up to Nikki to calm his nerves
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This was a request form Melissa: Nikki as a bottom with Vince. I honestly didn't think I would finish it today but I woke up early and just couldn't stop writing.
> Also my laptop is being a brat so I had to finish writing it on my phone, thank god for google docs. It was a bitch to finish though.
> Enjoy!
Vince was always horny. Before and after a show. Hell even when they weren’t on tour. When Vince didn’t have a groupie to get it off with, he always got… bitchy. Maybe it was because getting his load off released his more feral energy. So when he didn’t get it out, it drove everyone insane. Tommy had to hold Mick back from slamming his guitar to the back of his head. Usually they could handle it.
But today was different, today Tommy was gonna let Mick knock Vince the fuck out.
“Stop! Just. Stop. You all sound like shit!” Vince practically threw the mic stand to the ground.
“Dude!” Tommy stood abruptly from behind his drum set, drumsticks tight in his hands. “You need to chill the fuck out!”
“How can I chill out when you deadbeats can’t play your instruments right?!” Vince hissed, getting in Tommy’s face.
Mick let out a huff of petty laughter, going into his corner where his vodka waited for him to help with his frustrations. “Little prick.” He mumbles popping the bottle open.
“What was that old man!” Vince turns on him so fast, but Mick sits unphased.
“You’re acting like a bitch.” Mick takes a swig of his drink. “It’s annoying.” |
998eee675be54c8e9e3d20534f588ded | ['5b9f7e0c16f84273853c3acaadc101f3'] | “We’re still at war, we have so much else to worry about, we don’t have time for, anything like this and not to mention that you’re thousands of years old and,”
“Keith, love, breathe,” Lotor steps up to him again and grabs his shoulders firmly. Keith pauses and takes a deep breath. He closes his eyes and tries to ground himself in the moment. Lotor is murmuring softly and he opens his eyes again to look up at him.
“I,” Lotor starts and then bites his lip, “I have never felt this way about anyone before and yes, it terrifies me. But I have, I have been afraid for so long Keith. I never thought I could, would feel this way for someone. In the last 10,000 years I haven’t felt this kind of closeness. I trust you, with my whole heart and I,” He smiles and he pulls Keith closer, to kiss his forehead once more with a little more force. “I know we have a lot of work to do, the future is unpredictable, and I know you’re afraid, I understand you’re fear but I promise I’m here and I don’t plan on going anywhere.”
“But you can’t, you can’t know that. You can’t promise that,” Keith whispers, his voice shaking.
“I can and I will,” Lotor says a little defiantly, Keith can hear the smile in his voice. Lotor steps back and then he’s cupping Keith’s face in his hands. “You’re right, that we can’t control things like that but I don’t want to stop myself from loving you while I can, and for as long as I can while I worry about things that I can’t control. I have done so much in my lifetime, all of which left up to the future and the fates and I wouldn’t be where I was if I thought about only failure.”
Keith sighs, Lotor’s thought process amazes him. The optimism is refreshing and he’s trying so hard to not immediately reject such a thing.
They stay in silence for a moment, just breathing, Lotor’s fingers rubbing at Keith’s cheeks.
“Say it again,” Lotor whispers, “I want to hear you say it again.” He looks nervous and Keith smiles up at him.
“I’m in love with you,” Keith whispers. Lotor leans in, Keith can feel his breath on his face.
“Again, please.” Keith lets out a small laugh at the please, such manners.
“I’m in love with you, I am so in love with you.”
Lotor takes a shuddering breath and then their mouths are slotting together and Keith feels on fire. It’s warm and soft and full of intensity and Keith hasn’t had a kiss this good in a long time. He wraps his arms around Lotor’s middle as Lotor keeps holding his face.
They’re breathing heavily into it and Keith’s whole body is shaking by the time Lotor pulls away.
“I love you too,” Lotor pants, “I love you so much, I love having you in my space, I love seeing you smile, I love you Keith.”
Keith’s eyes burn and he whispers it back, again and again.
He’s scared still, scared of Lotor slipping away, leaving him. But he’s not consumed by it, he won’t let it. He wants to keep kissing Lotor like this, he wants to wake up to him every day, he wants to help rebuild along his side. He wants to trust Lotor. He’s so in love with him and Lotor loves him.
And for now, that’s enough.
**Author's Note:**
> Hey! Thanks for reading my first complete Keitor work!
> Shout out to my friends for encouraging me to post this
>
> Feedback and general comments are appreciated!
>
> Come talk to me on tumblr @ little-bi-kingtrashmouth | ab10ef71e0424bb88f2d4729f58dad93 | ['5b9f7e0c16f84273853c3acaadc101f3'] | Keith wouldn’t say he avoids Lotor after that night, because he doesn't. He’s just, around him less. He has more alone time. He pushes himself into training, he spends more time working with Kolivan through communicators, directing the Blade to places in the Empire that need help. He spends a lot of time catching up with the others. Lance and Hunk have a lot to tell him and he enjoys seeing them again. He feels like he has a family when he talks to them. But there’s an emptiness still. It feels like something is missing.
He can feel that he hasn’t been around Lotor a lot, they haven’t spoken much. Keith is trying to convince himself that Lotor isn’t spending time with him either, he’s really focused on his quintessence work and therefore Keith isn’t missed much.
He’s not sure if he’s trying to talk himself out of loving Lotor, trying to make himself not like him, because that’s not what he wants. He just doesn’t want to confront how he does feel. He’s falling into old habits. Pushing someone away before they push him away.
There’s no way Lotor feels the same, at least not to the same degree. Lotor cares about him, sure, but he doesn’t have time to fall in love with anyone. Lotor doesn’t trust people easily. Keith knows that.
It’s been a few weeks now and Keith finishes his call with Kolivan before there’s a knocking. He turns as the door slides open and Lotor walks in.
“Do you have a moment Keith?”
Keith nods and steps down from the control panel so he’s closer to Lotor. He just about comes up under his chin. He wants to curl right up to his chest, it’s been a while.
Lotor’s shoulders are tense, he looks worried. Did he find something bad? Maybe a colony fell again. Keith is rushing through so many different things when Lotor finally speaks again.
“Is everything alright? I know we’ve both been busy but I’ve noticed that you,” Lotor pauses, looking for the words, “I’ve noticed that you’re pulling away. If there’s anything I’ve done to upset you or if there’s anything bothering you please,”
“Lotor, no, it’s not,” Keith waves his hand, stopping him from speaking. Oh no, Lotor thinks he did something wrong.
He looks into Lotor’s eyes and Keith’s heart breaks. He looks so scared, it’s a vulnerability Keith rarely sees, from Lotor or from anyone really.
“No you haven’t done anything wrong. I promise, I’m just, I’ve just,” he doesn’t know what to say.
“If you wish to go back to the Blade of Marmora and do your work, somewhere other than here, then I understand. It must be hard to be away from your friends,”
“No!” He probably didn’t need to shout. Lotor looks taken aback, “No, I like being here. I like being here with you.” _With you_. That’s the most important thing.
Lotor relaxes a little, his eyes light up just a bit. He smiles.
“That’s a relief to hear.”
“I like working with you and spending time with you,” Keith says, his voice softer now. He steps closer. There’s less than a foot of distance between them. He reaches his hand out to gently hold Lotor’s arm, just above his wrist. Lotor pulls him close and leans down to press his forehead to the top of Keith’s head. Their hands intertwine and Keith wants to stay there forever.
“Then what is it? You’ve been distant from me, I’ve been worried. I don’t,” Lotor pauses, almost like he’s choking on the thought.
Keith feels cold. He knows that paranoia well, the dropping of the stomach, and the burning in your eyes when you realize that someone is gonna leave. They could leave. He wants to cry, thinking that he did that to Lotor.
“I,” He more mouths the word than actually speaks. He steps back and Lotor looks like he wants to pull him back to him, hold him tight and never let go.
He lets Keith step back however. Keith needs to look at Lotor as he says this.
“I think I’m in love with you,” he says and it’s like something explodes inside of him. It’s relief. It’s out now. But there’s a sick feeling, something trying to twist itself up in his throat.
“I think I’m in love with you and it scares me,” Keith says again and he feels his eyes water up, “I’m so terrified Lotor.”
“Oh my love,” Lotor gasps and he steps closer to pull Keith to him again. Keith wraps himself around him immediately, he clutches tightly to the chest place and he sighs and he inhales Lotor’s smell.
He hears a sniffle above him, but Lotor’s chest is moving like he’s laughing.
“I was so scared Keith, that you, the exact opposite of this.” He tilts Keith’s face up then, his forefinger a gentle push to make Keith look into those beautiful golden eyes. They’re warm and Lotor is smiling in a way that Keith has never seen before.
“I love you, more than you know.” Lotor leans down and kisses Keith’s forehead, his touch feather light, like he’s scared of breaking this moment. Keith feels like he’s dreaming. He’s thought about this so much. Lotor’s lips are so soft and warm as they cover Keith’s entire face. Keith stops him right before they cover his lips and steps back.
“How are you, how are you not scared?” Keith asks, he’s shaking now. He’s overwhelmed from affection, no one has been that gentle with him before, and he’s full of so many emotions he isn’t sure what to feel other than fear.
“What do you mean?”
“Being in love, it’s terrifying. I’m so scared, I can’t, we can’t,” His voice cracks as he struggles to speak.
“Why not?”
Keith is starting to panic, he’s waving his arms and he’s pacing now. His heart is racing faster and he’s finding it hard to focus. |
0288b8e3bb794f838906955a3b5a21de | ['5bbd4232563b4e3e9256c152fead7f43'] | It's Ben and May, with wine and a dish of food. There are tears and hugs,.but dinner ia still a bit of an anxious affair.
Laura doesn't honestly know what to do here. She'd been serious with people before, but the whole "meeting the parents" thing is unfamiliar territory. Especially once you add a set of surrogate parents to the mix.
She spends the whole meal staring down at her plate while Gabby, thankfully, stole the show. Her joy was infectious, and she had the Parkers and Mr. Stacy laughing as soon as they sat sown.
Laura was amused too, despite herself, and couldn't help but smile along. Gwen didn't seem too invested in the conversation. It was clear Gwen could read Laura's mood because she kept looking at her, and ended up resting her hand on Laura's in her lap. Laura gave her a squeeze. She could do this.
George ended up asking Laura to help with dishes. "You seemed so eager to help before, I figured you'd want something to do.
George decreed Laura would be drying, and they stood and washed in silence while the others cleared off the table
When they were finally alone, George turned and locked her in his gaze. Oh no. "Gwen has been through hell these past couple years." The shove l talk. She's heard about these. "A lot of it without my awareness. I felt like I'd let her down, and i promised I'd never let her go through anything alone again."
Laura set down the plate she was holding. If she clenched it any harder, it would break.
“Laura, I'm so glad she found you.
"I can tell, you know, that your life hasn't been that easy. You've probably spent a long time alone before you found that kid sister of yours.
"I promise you that you'll never be alone again. No matter what happens. You can come to me with anything. You're family now. "
* * *
Later that night, Laura was waiting on a creaky bar stool for the start of a concert by the _Mary Janes_.
According to Ghost Spider, the band had hit their stride a short while back. It was well known now that their drummer was a superhero and, after the majority of Hero Groupies faded away, they were left as a moderately successful band with a steady crowd of regulars.
They got to play at some of the less trashy local venues, they opened for the likes of the _eXiles_ and the _Revengers_ , and were even working on their first major album.
But every year they still came back to this bar, the place they got their first gig, and played their Holiday Spectacular. Laura was sure it would be good. Probably.
Laura didn't really listen to a lot of music.
It wasn't by design --she imagined that she enjoyed it as much as anyone else --but she was always on the move and never really had time to seek it out.
On the various X-Teams she'd been part of someone was often listening to something. Even the best noise canceling headphones meant that she got to sample a wide variety of styles--but the idea of sitting down and putting a pair on her head made her uneasy. She couldn't stand cutting off and overwhelming one of her senses like that
And she definitely didn't go to shows.
Her peers had dragged her to concerts back when they were only teenagers. The crush of hundreds of young people dancing and talking and smelling in one place made for an intense overload she didn't enjoy.
She could manage it. She was trained to manage it. She sometimes even forced herself to do so to go clubbing with her last boyfriend. She simply didn't like it as much as she let on.
So why was she sitting in some crowded bar, picking at some mediocre hot wings, waiting for the music to start.
She was probably in love.
There was no announcement, no preamble--it wasn't needed. Just one minute, the sounds of tuning instruments come from behind the cheap curtains. The next, the curtain pulls away, Gwen clacks her drumsticks, and the front woman, a redhead, belts out the opening bars to that Mariah Carey songs."
The crowd goes wild.
They rotate through a set list of rockified Christmas Classics, and Mary Janes mainstays. She finds herself enjoying "Face it, Tiger", recent hit "Web Warrior" and some song in Latin she didn't understand.
She almost gouges her eardrums out about five verses into "The 12 Days of Christmas". She must've made a face because Gwen locks eyes with her and sticks out her tongue. Revenge will have to be swift and merciless.
They finished their set, and started filtering their way through the crowd.
There were a few fans who tried to accost them on the way to their table, and Laura was so tempted to clear the band a path. But the band was getting good at establishing boundaries and after a few firm denials they were back by the table while Laura set in on her third plate of hot wings. The meet and greet felt like it took forever, though she was sure it was only a half hour. They'd capped the line pretty quickly--it was the holidays --and they only had a dozen or two autographs to sign before they split off to get a drink.
Laura is sure she knows who these people are in Gwen's band. If you asked her to write a dossier she could probably tell you their height, eye color, and who preferred which drink.
But the whole encounter was a blur for her. She couldn't remember what they'd talked about or anything she'd said in response . | 08a27d1835f34707821336420a532a66 | ['5bbd4232563b4e3e9256c152fead7f43'] |
Holiday Hop
Christmas with the family was new.
Laura didn't often get excited for the holidays. It wasn't hard, she'd not been raised in that kind of environment. Later on she'd lived with the X-Men. They'd had their parties and their big dinners --multiple for every tradition. But not being from any of those tradition and made her feel even more outcast than usual.
But this year, she had her family. She had Debbie and Megan,Gabby and Jonathan. She even had Gwen if she ever arrived. It was important to her that Gabby have as good a holiday as possible.
Her little sister came from a very similar environment--militarized, clinical, brutal --but somehow managed to come out of it with a joie de vivre that would make a Care Bear jealous.
She wanted that smile to stay on her sister's face as long as possible. And she wanted her to have a good relationship with her Aunt and Cousin.
But it was hard to put a pin on dinner's mood. It wasn't overly happy, they'd had too much re-traumatization of late for that. But it wasn't tense or sad either. It had this strange mixture of feelings, sitting somewhere in the muddy middle between multiple extremes. Gabby was her usual self, but even she wasn't able to change course on this meal.
Until Gwen got there.
Gwen arrived about halfway through seconds. Debbie had tried to hold off on dinner, but the appetites of multiple wolverines and a honey badger were hard to keep tamed with appetizers and egg nog.
When Debbie answered the door Gwen was still mid change between her Ghost Spider costume and her usual skirt plus a holiday sweater. Debbie didn't even blink as the gooey black spiders faded into the fabric. Still not weirder than magic soul armor.
"Hi, thanks for being patient! I had a run in with another universe's Scorpion. Those folks really get around! She ended up really sweet when we stopped fighting. Really liked boats. Hi! I'm Gwen! " Gwen thrust her hand out in greeting.
The rest of dinner was a lot more joyous, once Gwen and Gabby got started back and forth it was hard to get them to stop. She regaled Gwen with stories about the infamous steak and cake and of outer space and zombie bunnies.
Gwen countered with the joy of a Dollar Dog, her best buddy Spider-Ham and that time she and Spider-Punk put on a concert across the multiverse.
Laura 's cousin edged forward in her seat.
'You're a musician? " She remembered that Megan was supposed to like music. This was a relief, her present was sure to be a hit. She knew that Lila Cheney was popular in any dimension, but a signed album of songs that don't exist in this parallel is going to blow her mind. She smirked.
"Drummer. We both like to hit things. It's why we're so good together. "
Laura let out a breath she didn't even know she was was holding in. Her family liked her girlfriend.
* * *
Pretty soon, it was time for another family dinner, in another dimension.
Thank God for healthy superheroic metabolisms.
Gwen knew intimately the feeling of an empty chair at the holidays. She'd lost her mom when she was young, and she knew that little bit of holiday melancholy was something and Laura had in common.
The Parkers however, were still fairly new to it. They'd only lost peter a couple years ago, and the ache of losing a child was only intensified during times of celebration.
Year before last, on better terms, they had invited the Stacys to celebrate Chanukah with them, and the Stacys reciprocated with an invitation for Christmas dinner.
It was nice to have people you loved around during these times of year--a warm shoulder to help alleviate the ache of loss. Last year Gwen was in prison, and her father in a coma, even with Gwen fresh out of prison, Ben Parker still seemed to be keeping his anger fresh. They'd received no invitation and no RSVP.
If they showed up, Gwen was excited to introduce Laura to two of her favorite people in the world. If they came. It may be that she's lost another part of her family.
Laura was, of course, nervous as hell. Of course she would be. She's met actually cosmic forces, and here she is, nervous about a middle aged man who just happens to be the father of one of her most important people.
"Why is there a live wolverine in my house? " George asked as he and Gwen flitted through the kitchen removing things from burners and setting up for dinner.
Laura and her brood were set up in the living room, Laura positioned rigidly on the couch, wishing she were allowed to help, while Gabby slumped over Jonathan in a food induced stupor.
"She's my girlfriend, dad! we talked about this. "
He rolled his eyes. "No, I mean that thing on the floor. "
"Jonathan 's cool dad. Trust me. He's domesticated!."
"Gwen."
"Seriously, he's not even as dangerous as the symbiote. "
"Fair enough."
George was now smiling, and Laura dares to relax a little when she hears the crash of a dish of macaroni hitting the floor. George is cursing and his hands appear to be shaking.
Laura starts to stand and help, but Gwen waves her off.
"It's no big deal, just some macaroni." It really is only food, and not a big enough deal to stress out over because of some dexterity issues. George's smile has still disappeared, though. He doesn't seem to agree.
Someone speaks from the the doorway and Laura is already halfway over towards them before she realizes the people who let themselves in have their own key.
"Do you need a hand cleaning that up?" |
2de82be2bbb1476db0c5fe0fda859b70 | ['5bc1eba5e7d6466eb761a0e067c4e8a0'] |
put your fingers back to the keys
It’s inevitable, really. The combination of the leaked SHIELD and HYDRA files, along with any power they had to crush the press cycle, and the sheer amount of blurry footage of Bucky in DC means it’s only a matter of time before people put two and two together. Reactions are mixed – some welcome Bucky back with open arms, calling him a war hero, but the words ‘traitor’ and ‘untrustworthy’ are bandied around with increased frequency on daytime chat shows. Bucky stays quiet through it all. Pepper releases calm, controlled statements that go some way to tamp down some of the more extreme rhetoric, but still the debates rage on. And Bucky stays silent.
Steve catches him watching the news at night, blank face betraying nothing. Steve turns it off every time, earnestly telling him that it’s all nonsense, that none of it is true, and Bucky stares back at him, and shrugs. He never tells Steve he’s right. Never tells him he’s wrong, either.
Sam tells him to wait it out, that Bucky needs time to adjust, and Steve knows he’s right – but he hates that Bucky does this to himself – hates that Steve can’t do anything to stop him. In the end, it isn’t either of them that pulls Bucky out of his silence – isn’t even Nat, although she’s been invaluable. It’s Darcy, who bounds into the meeting room at the tower one day waving a tablet like she’s won the lottery.
“Hey! Bucky! You gotta look at this! The hashtag’s been trending for weeks, but it’s only just become, like, an actual movement and stuff! They’ve got this whole letter-writing campaign thing going on, and there’s art and, like, teddy bears I think? Something about revamping Bucky Bears from the war? I didn’t really get it, but, it’s awesome and—“ she stops, mid-flow. “You know how to use a tablet, right? They covered that in 21st Century 101? You just—“ she waves her index finger “kinda scroll.” She reaches over Bucky’s shoulder, tapping the screen he’s staring at mutely. “See?” Bucky doesn’t say anything, but he nods. His eyes are wide as Darcy scrolls, occasionally stopping to excitedly point something out to him. And then suddenly he pushes his chair back, leaving Darcy to stumble aside, and all but flees from the room.
……………………………………………………………………………
Steve waits behind, afterwards, after Darcy had explained what on earth was going on. He sits with the tablet, scrolling through fierce messages of support, selfies prominently featuring prosthetic limbs, long discussions on mental health and accountability. And all of it – all of the positivity, the anger - the love – all of it is tagged with #protectbuckybarnes. Steve stays there for a long while, just sitting. Thinking. He’d known that not all the reaction to Bucky’s return had been negative, but he hadn’t – he hadn’t known. Not really. Not that people felt like this.
Bucky is sat on the couch when Steve walks into their apartment. He’s staring at his hands, but his head jerks up at the sound of Steve’s footsteps. His eyes are red.
“I—“ he swallows, clenching his jaw “it’s too much, it’s too—“ he swallows again, clenching his fists. “they – they don’t understand what I did, not really, they don’t know they don’t they don’t--” his nails are digging into the palms of his hands and Steve moves over slowly, curls his fingers over Bucky’s, straightens them out.
“They know, Buck. They’ve read the files, they know what happened. And they know it wasn’t really you, that it wasn’t your fault.” He runs a finger along Bucky’s jawline, tilts his head so that he can look into Bucky’s eyes. “They’re not trying to pretend it didn’t happen, Buck. They know. And they love you anyway, just like I do.” Bucky chokes a laugh.
“Hope they don’t love me exactly like you do, otherwise we gonna have a fight on our hands.” He grins shakily and Steve knocks their shoulders together.
“I could take ‘em, jerk.”
……………………………………………………………………………
Steve makes the video that night. It’s short, fumbling, and he’s fairly sure he misuses the word ‘hashtag’ at least once, but it goes viral within minutes, and the letters start arriving within days. Long, heartfelt treatises about PTSD from ex-servicemen and women, crayon drawings with attached snaps of little kids with prosthetic limbs, grinning broadly and often clutching Bucky Bears in their arms. There are declarations of support, promises that ‘if the government ever tries to capture you, you can totally hide out at mine’ (Bucky blinks, asks Steve if these kids realise how much danger they could be in, and stares, baffled, at the accompanying description of their spare room.) Bucky reads them all, replies to as many as possible, and Steve often walks in to find him surrounded by a sea of paper.
He keeps all the letters, piled carefully in boxes underneath their bed. He sends the kids selfies back, often with Steve looking amused in the background. He sticks their drawings on the fridge, refrains from pointing out that, as a highly trained ex-assassin, he’s highly unlikely to be in a situation where a 12-year-old can protect him better than he can protect himself (although he does point it out to Steve, several times), gives Sam’s number to returning soldiers (until Sam, politely, informs him that there is, in fact, an official number for the VA).
The letters start trailing off after a few months, but Steve figures they’ve done their job. He doesn’t forget about them, exactly, but they aren’t the overwhelming presence they’d been before – which is why Darcy’s second tablet attack comes as such a surprise. She plonks him down at the table, hands him the device, and presses play. Steve watches, bemused, as Bucky’s familiar face appears on screen, hands nervously scrubbing through his hair. He’s wearing a Captain America shirt – and not the one Tony had bought him as a joke, and that Bucky had subsequently defaced – several times – whenever Steve had done something particularly rash. It’s remarkably clear of scribbled Sharpie insults, and that more than anything clues Steve into the fact that this is something serious – not just another ridiculous Vine or Instagram post.
“I—“ onscreen, Bucky rubs his metal arm, running his fingers along the ridges “I guess I don’t really know where to start with Steve Rogers. Me and him – well, most of you know we go back a long way. And most of you know he used to be a scrawny little thing, always gettin’ into scrapes. Always defending other kids – kids who couldn’t defend themselves – not that he could, neither. An’ I used to have to rescue him, every single time.” He laughs, grins wryly at the camera “I can’t count the number of times I found him bein’ beat up in back alleys – or outside bars, or behind the school, when we were kids. He was always lookin’ out for the little guy, even when he was one. Always wanted to do the right thing.” Bucky pauses, ducks his head. “And the thing is, that hasn’t changed. Still makes idiot decisions that mean I gotta save his ass, cause he’s just gotta do the right thing. Can’t help it, s’just the way he is. Wouldn’t be Steve, otherwise. But the thing is, you guys said you wanted to help me and that’s—“ his breath hitches, and he rubs a hand across his eyes “I don’t have words for that. But sometimes people forget that, even though he’s not that skinny little guy anymore, Steve needs helping sometimes, too. An’ I was wondering if you guys would—if you guys would do that for me.” The screen goes black, and the words #protectsteverogers appear. Steve stares at them until the video ends.
“I don’t—“ he turns to Darcy “I don’t—“ She grins gleefully.
“Your boy just broke the internet, Cap.” She tips her head sideways “And your brain, by the looks of things. He’s trying to help – trying to give you what he got, what you gave him.”
“Yeah, I.” Steve rubs his head. “I got that.”
……………………………………………………………………………
He doesn’t actually say anything to Bucky that night, not exactly. Just reaches over, clasps both of his hands.
“I always got your back, Buck. Just like I know you got mine.” Bucky swats his hands away, calls him a sap, but he’s smiling when he leans in to kiss Steve, and Steve figures they’re going to be just fine. It won’t be the same as it was before the war, and there will always be days that hurt, but him and Bucky? They’re going to be just fine. | f015ff6a9d01456c872dc4ccb89485ab | ['5bc1eba5e7d6466eb761a0e067c4e8a0'] |
Impasto
**Author's Note:**
> With my thanks to LINK for making beautiful art and inspiring this in the first place.
Steve finds out about the art before he finds out about Bucky. It’s part of the pack SHIELD hands him: ‘The Cultural Influence of Captain America’. The movies are fine, mainly laughable and overtly patriotic – but then, so had been the ones he’d made during the war. The essays and academic debates are a little odd, and feel somehow detached, unrelated to him. They’re discussing the world’s first superhero, not Steve Rogers. The art is something else though. Some of it he skips straight past – recruitment posters, formal military portraits, _pin-up posters_ (his cheeks flush, but it still doesn’t feel like _him_ ), but some of it. Some of it. There’s this one artist who doesn’t seem to care all that much about Captain America. He focuses on the war years, on the Howling Commandos, on _Bucky_. Steve is there – his profile half-hidden behind Dum-Dum’s shoulder, eyes visible in the firelight, trying to supress a laugh at one of Jim’s jokes – but he’s part of a whole, which is how it should be. It feels more real than anything else he’s found in this century, and he can hardly bear to look away. He looks up the artist online, asks Pepper if she knows of any showings, and two weeks later finds himself in a glossy Williamsburg studio, staring up at the faces of his friends.
The canvases are huge, sweeping layers of oils, rough and thick enough that the paint almost appears to be coming out of the canvas. They are shockingly physical, an almost tangible force of memory and life and feeling and Steve – his breath is caught in his throat, eyes and chest aching, and—
There’s this one of Bucky, and Steve doesn’t know how the artist knew, because he’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen any pictures like this in the Smithsonian, but Bucky, he’s – he’s looking at Steve like he always looked when he didn’t think Steve could see. Only Steve’s not in the picture, not really, just the shadow of his shoulder, out of reach, and Bucky is staring, his eyes wounded and wanting and hollow with pain and the room feels too small, heart beating too hard and how did they know, how did they _know_ —
They know, as it turns out, because the artist is the grandson of Jim Morita, with the same sharp-eyed smile and refusal to varnish the truth. They become friends, because they both miss Jim and they love art, and that is enough to build something. Leo tells Steve all about his grandfather, and about his own art, his cute girlfriend and the apartment they’re saving up to buy. Steve tells Leo the stories that Jim never got round to telling, about how he can’t get over inflation, and, eventually, about Bucky.
“I have sketches, I can show what he used to—I have a lot of sketches.” And he does, God help him, wrinkled pages he can hardly bare to look at sometimes, but needs to, needs to keep tracing the familiar angles of Bucky’s face, every new line he draws a promise to never forget. It’s stupid – Steve knows the serum gave him a photographic memory, has proved it time and time again, but he can’t help but worry that Bucky’s memory will start to slip through his fingers. He always knew Bucky was too good for him to hold onto.
Leo whistles when he sees the sketches, kindly refrains from commenting on the sheer volume, and turns the pages with a touch just short of reverent.
“You don’t need me for this, Cap. You got a whole lot of talent right here; you don’t need me, not really.” Except he’s wrong. Steve does need him. Bucky doesn’t feel solid in his fingers, and Steve feels desperate, like he’s holding on too hard. In Leo’s hands he feels real, solid. Colours and reflection and light that refuse to let him forget a single thing. Leo agrees, of course, and shuts himself away in his studio with piles of notes and Steve’s sketchbooks. Steve refuses to see it until it’s done, can’t bear to see unfinished lines and fragmented colour, like that’s all Bucky could be. But, when Leo finally shows him, he’s glad he waited. Leo has painted Bucky after a long day at work: he’s covered in dirt, hair damp with sweat, but he’s laughing, head thrown back, hand thrust out to support himself on the table. Steve’s painted shadow falls across the sun-dappled floor, his body just out of frame, and he can almost, he can almost, if he hunches his shoulders he can almost, can almost pretend that it’s his shadow, and that any moment Bucky will lift his head, meet his gaze, and he will know—
(Except, as it turns out, Bucky does know, he knows him, he knows _him_ , he remembers, he _knows _–)__
……………………………………………………
Bucky finds his portrait about five minutes after they leave Stark Tower. He looks at it with something akin to wonder in his eyes for about half a second, before collapsing into hysterical laughter. Steve tries to explain, but Bucky just laughs louder.
“You mean, not only did you make this poor guy listen to you pine—“ Steve opens his mouth to object, but Bucky just dismisses him with a flap of his hand “—but then you actually made him, like, paint a picture of me? Steve, buddy, you gotta stop foisting your crush onto unsuspecting citizens.”
Steve glares at a spot just behind Bucky’s left shoulder, mumbles at him.
“S’Jim’s grandson, was doin’ it anyway.” Bucky’s hand snaps up with a delighted grin, and, too late, Steve realises his mistake. |
57ce6dd7260a459d8d5d9eeb0ffec2fd | ['5bdc0ff424014252a558186e83dda8ed'] | Frederick grinned, eyes shifting back down to his book as he sketched Will’s profile; his fingers tightened on the scarf around his neck, his glasses pushed back in his hair though a few stray strands came down to curl over his cheeks. Frederick thought he looked stunning, the warm sun picking up all the right tones and brightening them. He looked tranquil, serene, and Frederick’s pen paused on the paper as the clouds passed, unable to look away.
“It’s an alpaca blend…” He mumbled, eyes flicking to the wool in Will’s hands. “Please, fondle away. You think I don’t? Its how I choose my fibres.” He tried to look back to his paper, but still seemed unable to make a move, too captured by the moment. The air smelt incredible; burning leaves and petrichor, the trees giving off a faint sweet aroma. Frederick sagged, feeling immeasurably full and yielding to the scene unfolding around him. He gave Will a calm smile, nodding him over, his fears abated.
“Come have a beer.”
Will moved closer, negotiating his long legs under the picnic table. He folded his arms, resting them on the weathered wood. “I’m glad I caught you before you left,” he breathed, eyes heavy lidded as they swept over the surroundings. “It’s been a long week, it’s nice to come out and just enjoy the evening.” He took the bottle offered to him, wrapping the edge of his jacket around the cap and easily twisting it off. The sharpness of the beer only added to the perfection of the scenario.
“When did you learn how to knit?” he asked, looking back down to the scarf wrapped around his neck. He was incredibly distracted by the feel of it under his fingers, resisting the urge to rub it against his cheek. Was this the sensation Frederick was constantly surrounded by? The softness he invited into his life? Will felt his heart twist a bit in his chest at the thought.
Quickly flipping the page in his book, Frederick set his pen down on a blank page, sketching out a chart and filling in some of the squares to make a simple icelandic pattern for mittens. He bit his lips, glancing up at Will, eyes drawn to the way his thumbs continued to knead the yarn. It was nice to know Will clearly had an appreciation for fibre and texture; it was probably part of what made him such an amazing sculptor, his ability to press out what he saw into clay, instinctively knowing what something felt like and easily adding those subtleties to his pieces. Frederick had noticed from what he’d seen that Will had a distinctive skill for muscle and bone, intuitively understanding the movement of these pieces under the flesh.
“My grandmother taught me. I’ve been knitting since I was very young.” He watched Will’s fingers openly, sipping his beer. “I’m glad you enjoy it so much. I find that… well, most people don’t appreciate the effort that goes into working with fibres…” He flushed, eyes locked on his page as he drew small scales and began shading them, imagining winding them around himself like a blanket. He breathed, looking up again to catch Will’s eyes.
“What I make is for people like me… and like you.” He nodded to Will’s fingers moving over the ribs in the scarf. “Everyone likes things that are soft and feel nice,” He mumbled, making a face. “But it’s different when you focus on and find peace in it. It’s a haven, its protection, its the perfect kind of distraction to lose yourself in. Some of us can’t live without it.”
Will nodded, eyes wide as he took in Frederick’s words. The last sentence, so simple, hit him square between the eyes.
“I know what you mean,” he said, looking away. He was suddenly very interested in a leaf that had fallen on the table, picking it up and swiping his thumb along the dry surface. He followed each vein, each imperfection, before crumbling it in his hand and letting the wind sweep it away. Looking back up, he offered an awkward smile. “I was diagnosed with autism when I was young. I’m not too deep into the spectrum, more Asperger’s than anything, but I’m on there. So touch...I don’t know. It means a lot to me.” He looked down, drawing little patterns on the tabletop with his fingertip. “When I went to therapy we used a lot of tactile stimulants to keep me focused. I still find that interesting textures help me think.”
He busied himself with pulling his own sketchbook out, laying his pencils out in a neat row. He didn’t share that information very often, he’d never wanted it to be seen as a crutch, or an excuse. Being here, sitting with Frederick, it made him feel open in ways he never had before.
Frederick felt his heart hammering against his chest, felt it in his wrists where they’d pressed into the paper. He stared at Will’s hands, tenderness blooming and spreading throughout. That Will would share this part of himself meant something. _Something_. His hand itched and he squeezed it into a fist, eyes returning to his own book.
“Will…” He shut his mouth, biting his lip. What did it mean that Will felt comfortable enough to share something that was so much a part of himself. Their reasons for needing the sanctuary of touch were different, but Frederick knew they both found a similar relief. He fingered his own scarf, watching Will. He stopped thinking, stopped doubting, and reached his hand out to cover Will’s wrist, thumb sliding gently over his pulse.
“Thank you for telling me.” _I like you,_ his heart whimpered as he drew his hand back and wrapped it around his beer. | b35e25f0c8d54327992a2586de0fefdc | ['5bdc0ff424014252a558186e83dda8ed'] |
1. Chapter 1
The summer heat was oppressive as Will walked home from class, messenger slung across his body and glasses slipping down his nose. It gathered on his lower back as a thin sheen of sweat, coaxing his threadbare white v-neck to cling to his skin. The setting sun had turned everything deep shades of red and purple, shadows making the street look eerie and still. It was perfect. His favorite time of day was twilight, the moment when everything was quiet and the world was shifting to night. Humidity thick in the air, moths flitting around the street lamps, crickets starting to sing...it seemed more like home than any other time of day. Especially walking up to the old remodeled Victorian he and his roommate, Frederick, were renting. The setting was ideal for someone who always felt more comfortable on the outskirts of society.
Dead leaves crunching underfoot, he cut through their neighbour’s yard as he approached the house. He could see a pair of black boots and skinny legs poking out over the stoop, alerting him to Frederick’s presence as he drew closer. For a moment Will stilled-he felt like he was always sneaking up on his roommate, invading his solitude with his mere presence. Not that Frederick ever seemed annoyed, or put out by Will. He’d always been perfectly polite, a model roommate since they’d moved in a few months ago. While there wasn’t a tight bond between them there was respect, and that was all Will could really ask for. Although friendship might be nice, if they gave it a try.
Maybe even something more, if he was feeling particularly optimistic.
With a deep breath he adjusted his bag on his shoulder, walking until he could see Frederick sitting on the porch. He had a cigarette perched between his lips, staring out into the night-lost in thought, apparently. Will steeled his nerves, moving closer.
“Hey.” Will spoke quietly, never too comfortable announcing his own presence.
Leaning heavily against a wooden beam, Frederick resisted the urge to tense as Will approached. An air of cool confidence had settled around him in the summer dusk and he had been enjoying it until Will’s arrival. Now a flush began to crawl up his neck, and he willed his heart to settle, stretching his legs out before him and crossing them as he squared his shoulders and looked down his nose at Will. Idly he rolled the open bottle of wine he’d been enjoying along the step and against his thigh, his fingers gripping the neck and twirling it gently. He’d already polished this one off, but there was another in the fridge. It was friday after all.
Glasses had slipped low on Will’s nose and his t-shirt was clingy and revealing: Frederick eyed appreciatively the way the gently shifting muscles of Will’s stomach were clearly visible above the jut of his hips. He tried to remain outwardly impassive though his heart began to thump painfully in his chest.
Just as all the days previous that they’d known each other, Will was a vision and in response, Frederick was on-edge and fighting to appear genuinely aloof, collected. There was something different about the way Will was looking at him now though and Frederick felt a prickle of anticipation settle between his shoulders. While Will was never unkind or rude, he had not attempted conversation with Frederick more than a handful of times. He had at the beginning, tried harder. He was naturally a charming and inquisitive person and Frederick had seen him with his friends many times, arms wrapped around their shoulders as they laughed drunkenly and stumbled down the street.
When Frederick hadn’t given much back Will seemed to have stepped back, remaining courteous but distant. He was an excellent roommate: fastidiously clean and a good cook. Frederick often returned from class to find the house smelling of delicious and simple home cooked meals. Sometimes it was even a point of bother, when Frederick stumbled home drunk some mornings and found the house filled with the delectable smell of a breakfast he’d missed.
While Will was always tidy and often at class or in the studio when Frederick was home, he left mementos of his presence everywhere. The delicious smells were the first thing Frederick noticed. Eventually he noticed things in the bathroom; a smudge of clay in the shower, a second pair of glasses on the sink, and sometimes odd tokens on the back of the toilet. One day there had been a small pile of bird feathers. The following week had been a couple pieces of sea glass, turquoise and white. Yesterday he’d found a small bird skull and he’d held it, entranced for a while before putting it back. It’d been gone when he’d awoken that morning.
Now Will was peering up at Frederick from under his eyelashes, gaze mildly hopeful and sweet, and Frederick’s heart beat wildly in response. He held his serene expression with great difficulty as he nodded to Will in kind, taking a drag with narrowed eyes and wiggling his fingers lightly in the other boy’s direction in a welcoming gesture.
To Will, the gesture was as good as a genuine smile. He’d never been very good at making friends; most found him to be on the weird side, dark and brooding and often wary of people’s intentions. On top of that he was terribly shy, and awful at picking up on social cues. He’d spent so much of his childhood following his father’s erratic migration patterns that he’d never had the chance to settle down and learn how to make friends. College had finally presented the opportunity to put down roots, to finally feel at _home_ somewhere. Unfortunately he was failing miserably at it. |
5753bf7cfc3d4c1aa7112227c59de984 | ['5bdda278d1a7417288041a6fa7ff2031'] | **Q:** _'Whats cute about each of the members?'_
"Our Taehyungie... He sorta likes to bump us like this..." Jin begins, making weird gestures with his body to which Taehyung found amusing.
"If he's bumping into us, isn't that annoying, and not cute?" Hobi retorted, making them all giggle, except Yoongi who was in a daze, yawning even, and kept nodding at nothing, just to make it seem like he's listening.
"No, no, not in that way. Like, whenever one of us is in a bad mood, he comes over and gives us a little bump and says, _"Aw, c'mon hyuuung"_ , and that's when we see his cuteness." Jin explained, and others agreed.
"Give us an example!" Hobi asked then.
"Do it to Suga." Jin insisted, and Taehyung, not being the one who lets an opportunity slip, without being told twice, glanced at Yoongi quickly who was still in a daze, and cups the latter's cheeks with his hands while making a kissy face; just like he did back when they were still together, whenever Yoongi got too cranky or upset at something. It was one way to make Yoongi smile again, and Taehyung loved every second of it. Yoongi, on the other hand, was caught off guard, as the others laughed, his face flushed with nothing but embarrassment.
"Taehyung's good! I gotta admit he's good!" They laughed, especially at Yoongi's lost composure.
"He surprised me..." Yoongi said with cheeks beet red, sweaty palms, and a longing heart, and Taehyung was there just beside him, smiling with the others. He knew he told Taehyung that they were through, but Taehyung is happily smiling now, right there beside him. It's selfish to think, but did he even want that?
-
Busy days passed and they finally had rare days off, Yoongi thought that he was in the dorm alone after the others went out to put their first free day in use, he was so damn tired that whatever he did, he only ended up thinking about Taehyung. He then heard some glass breaking downstairs by the kitchen and he immediately went down, bringing a pepper spray with him, only to see Taehyung, gently picking up chunks of glasses on the floor.
"Goodness, Tae, it's just you. I thought all of you went out tod- why the hell are you picking that up?!" Yoongi asked him to stand up as he got the broom and tried to sweep it. "Are you hurt?" He asked the younger, "Give me your hand, let me take a look." He pulled the latter's hand and only to be pulled away from him abruptly.
"Oh, no, no. It's okay, Hyung. Thanks though." Taehyung smiled and walked up to his room.
Guilt, hurt, and loneliness. There was nothing more than those three feelings that stabbed continuously on Yoongi's heart and mind which blocked his capacity to think, Taehyung was cold to him. Come to think of it, Taehyung didn't look at him as much anymore. Has he finally moved on? He knew he was at fault, but there he was, stuck with his feelings, wasn't he? Then, realization hit him, Taehyung was always the one he wanted, the one he wanted to stay, with the younger, all of his thoughts were in place, but everything just fell apart and it was his fault.
10. Realizations
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> "I love you, my angel."
Yoongi found himself standing outside Taehyung's room, thinking about the last time that he had went which was the day he broke Taehyung's heart, the day where he chose to let his love go. Yoongi blinked the tears that he has been trying to hold back. He felt so stupid, so regretful to let Taehyung go.
Was it too much to ask? Are the heavens really against the thought of him being together with the one that he had by far, loved the longest? He knew from the day that he started dating the younger, he knew full well what risks they were going to face, he even thought of overcoming it with Taehyung beside him, and the younger was more than ready to do so, but still, he chose to let go. Having these thoughts was enough for Yoongi to let out the tears he'd been holding, and forcing himself not to let out a whimper strained him hard. He tried to walk away, he knew he should, but he was too weak to even take another step. He's too tired of running away when he should have been fighting for their relationship together. Just as Yoongi felt relaxed enough to step away, the door gently opened, revealing a rather surprised Taehyung.
"Hyung?" The younger called out and Yoongi, as quickly as he could, walked away, directly heading to his room, but was pulled back by Taehyung. "Hyung what were you-"
"I'm sorry..." Yoongi mumbled.
"What?" The younger asked, his hand still holding Yoongi's arm, but he knew by the sound of Yoongi's voice that he had been crying.
"I'm... I'm sorry for everything." Yoongi repeated once more, not daring to face Taehyung because he knew it'll only make him cry harder than he already has. "I'm sorry for letting you go, Taehyung-ah." Yoongi added. | c0b3ab3daf7e48dead525799eb456d13 | ['5bdda278d1a7417288041a6fa7ff2031'] | For the days, when I'd ask myself, _'Are these really the boys that a lot of people fangirl and fanboy over?'_ , are the days when one of them would playfully hit the other that would result to them, creating a ruckus and would somehow end up in giggles. One time when we were shorthanded with staffs, and the boys only had thirty minutes to prepare as it turned out that they had a sudden performance due to the absence of a certain group, I was the one who did all of their makeup and my hands were too full of work since I was also the one in charge of their outfits. I had Jungkook for the last one and I only had less than ten minutes to do his makeup, and while I was doing so, Jimin kept on blabbering some disgustingly sweet stuff about how he liked Yoongi's looks and whoever the heck knows since it seemed like an everyday routine for him to praise Yoongi in front of me, and suddenly this brat, Jungkook, totally forgot that I WAS DOING HIS MAKE UP IN THE MIDDLE OF ME DOING HIS MAKEUP that he rubbed his eye with the back of his hand causing the eyeliner to smudge over his entire eye. I mean, is that even possible?! This almost made me rip my hair off right there and then, just quit my job and go back home, binge watch Game of Thrones, and remake my life decisions, but then this brat looked up to me and smiled apologetically, knowing well enough that I'm definitely letting him off the hook. He performed well anyway, their fans not noticing the slight dark patch that was still left on, maybe even thinking that it’s a new style. Well, maybe just for Jungkook. It almost made him look like a panda when being watched to his side closely.
After their performance ended, they all went backstage looking all tired.
"Dahye-noona, you're gonna come eat dinner with us, right?" Taehyung asked, looking down to my direction, because he was seriously taller and showing me his wide, boxy smile. I looked at him and pinched his cheek, a little too much on my pinch maybe. "Yah, my dongsaeng is so cute, you're a grown man now huh?" I pinched even harder, "Putting your ass on the line for Jungkook, yeah?"
"Ow, ow, Noona stop!" He whined with his face all scrunched up when I let go, making the other brats laugh.
"Yah, Jeon Jungkook! Where are you? You brat I'm not letting you get away with your smiley ass this time!" Then as usual, whenever he knows he'll get some scolding, he definitely goes first to the car.
They always did this, whenever either Taehyung or Jungkook is in trouble, they would always cover up for each other, and as the members are known to be inseparable, both Taehyung and Jungkook were even more inseparable. I know a lot of people would give them weird looks for being oddly close, but that's just their thing, it's a connection that only they can understand.
**2015**
Jimin ran to the room backstage where I was at after their last performance, he went in, probably not knowing I was there, and I'm pretty sure he had escaped cameras since the others wasn't looking for him just yet. Jimin was sobbing. I walked near him, and he looked up at me with his beautiful eyes that was brimming with tears, "Noona, I messed up." He sobbed harder, and I took it as a chance to hug him, tell him that what he has done is more than enough and that he's perfect and beautiful, and most of all, loved. "Noona, my voice is failing me..." He spoke as he continued to sob, and I shushed him gently. "Jimin-ah, you know even when you think that you've made a mistake, no one will ever notice it because you sing so beautifully that whatever you think might be a flaw to you, will only add up to how great you are for others, because you're doing so, so well. You're doing it perfectly and that is how they see it. They love you, everyone does." I patted his back as he nodded while still crying, "Even Suga-hyung? He loves me too?" He asked, not lifting his head up from my shoulder. I laughed softly at his question. "Yes, even Yoongi." I told him, because I know Yoongi does. That brat just finds it hard to express, but I know it. Not long after, the others came in, shocked to see the crying Jimin. I pulled Namjoon and whispered what had happened and as I expected, no one noticed the mistake that was made since Jimin always sang beautifully. I stood up, leaving Jimin for them to comfort since I had to prepare the things before we leave, but before I left the room, I took a glance at Yoongi who was looking at Jimin, his face having the most worried look among them, _'I know he does'_ , I thought.
Few days after that incident, the boys' schedule got a bit bearable. Some days they had the whole morning for themselves, and their afternoon schedule would be so full of interviews. But, let me tell you what I happened to see on one particular noon, when Manager-nim (Sejin) asked me to go and get the boys ready in his place because he had some urgent meeting to attend to regarding the upcoming comeback. This wasn't the first time that Manager-nim entrusted BTS' schedule to me, and the boys were more than happy enough because Noona always goes easy with them, trust me, it wasn't at any way easy, and my pay should be doubled because I swear, I'll die early at this point. |
2fd749fe866545e1b20bff3b34a88a84 | ['5c058b57a96444f0b05783679b013d36'] | Now that he no longer had a gun pointed at his chest, he was starting to shake. The sudden loss of adrenalin made his skin shiver and insides feel like a writhing pit of snakes. He sunk down, exhausted and drained and defeated. He’d been ready for her to kill him. Had he almost wanted it? It would be an end to this...this feeling; the constant ache in his chest, the rising darkness that threatened to drown him.
He didn’t know how long they both sat there in the dirt, battling to regain some semblance of control. The gun remained between them, pulling his gaze to it again and again. The sight of it made his skin turn cold. He felt sick. As sick as he’d been after Dewey told him what he did; why he did what he did.
Dewey might have died for it but Harry knew it was his fault Cassandra was dead. So many days now he wished he was the one they’d executed instead. Better than this slow death the rest of them were sentenced to.
His gaze drifted from the gun, passed Allie who still had her eyes shut, to the lights that twinkled in the distance. He’d wanted to die. So why was he here?
Why had he trudged for days through the woods and ended up here? His mind buzzed with exhausted thoughts. He could just lie down right here and fall asleep.
“Why are you here, Harry?”
They had been in silence so long that the sound of her voice made him jump. His eyes flew to here, that intense, unnerving stare she had that made him feel both frightened and turned on. It didn’t help that it was as if she’d been reading his thoughts.
He licked his lips, trying to coax his voice into working. “I don’t know,” he admitted honestly, his voice rough and broken.
Allie inhaled and straightened as she did, as if she were drawing herself up again.
“Does...do they know you’re here?”
He shook his head, holding her gaze. By now he had no doubt they’d noticed his absence, but what would they think? Would they care?
He dropped his head.
“I just... I couldn’t be there anymore. Too many...memories.”
Her eyes flickered at his words and he knew that many of the memories that haunted him every time he closed his eyes probably were following her too. He didn’t know anyone in New Ham that didn’t have nightmares of some sort, except perhaps Campbell.
“I don’t know if they’ll let you stay,” she murmured, glancing away. He watched as she dug anxiously with her nails into her right arm; he resisted the urge to reach out and make her stop.
He glanced towards the lights again. What would he do if they turned him away? He’d rather die in the woods than return to New Ham.
“Who’s in charge?” he asked quietly. It was an electric question. Power and politics had caused everyone far too much grief since It Happened. He let his eyes drift over Allie, taking in her wild tangle of hair, the shadows under her eyes visible even in the dim moonlight, the hunch of her shoulders, and he knew that she wasn’t making the decisions any longer. She looked like a wraith, as if a strong gust of wind could blow through the clearing and dissipate her like smoke. Guilt twisted at his gut again as he tallied all the reasons he was responsible for it
For a long moment he thought she hadn’t heard him but then she shrugged, glancing up at him.
“Helena, I guess.”
He nodded, licking his dry and cracked lips again. Helena would be a good leader. The people trusted her. Hell, he’d trusted her in his own way back in New Ham. There was something so reassuring about someone so strong in their beliefs. Maybe he’d envied her that.
He looked again at Allie. He’d trusted her, as well. She’d appeared strong in her beliefs, steadfast in her conviction that they were making the right decisions. At least, that was how she’d appeared in front of everyone else. He knew she was tormented by insecurity and self-doubt about every decision and every rule. He’d sensed that kinship in her, been drawn to the sense of worthlessness that he himself hid. But Allie had risen above these feelings and not allowed them to control her life. He had succumbed to them, sinking into a dark place and then turning to fear and anger to pull him out. He’d made selfish and stupid decisions and people had been hurt. Allie had been hurt.
“I really am sorry,” he murmured. She lifted her head, met his eyes and held his gaze, unblinking for a long moment. He felt as though she were looking all the way through him.
“We should take you into the camp,” she said, at long last, breaking the intensity of the moment between them. He looked away, realising he hadn’t been able to breathe with her eyes on him. He nodded, a sudden flurry of anxiety going through him.
Feeling an ache in every muscle and bone, he pushed himself to his feet, wobbling for a moment before standing steady. He glanced down at Allie, still puddled in the dirt, and held out a hand. She stared at his fingertips for a moment and then, suddenly, her felt the warmth of her hand in his, the tug of her body weight as she pulled herself up beside him. She let go of his hand and he curled his fingers into his palm, feeling like he’d lost something.
They walked in silence through the trees, heading towards the light that spilled across the grass. It wasn’t until they reached the first tent that Harry realised they’d left the gun sitting in the leaves of the forest floor.
5. Chapter 5
**Summary for the Chapter:** | 30063a69ca0643afbe55bcdee7873686 | ['5c058b57a96444f0b05783679b013d36'] | She swallowed the bitter taste that rose in her throat and glared at him through the tears that had sprung to her eyes.
“You betrayed me,” she spat, angry at the pain that was evident in her voice. “You let them arrest me and lock me up. You lied!”
Harry shook his head, hands running through his hair. “I’m so sorry, Allie. I...I don’t know. I know I can’t explain away what happened. It just...Fuck. I just wanted everything to go back to how it was. And Campbell...”
“Don’t say his fucking name to me!” Allie hissed, the gun jerking in her hand as the tears finally escaped, rolling down her cheeks.
Harry’s arms snapped back to a surrender position and he stumbled back a step in fright. They stared at each other for a long minute; Allie could feel the weight of the gun, practically buzzing in her hands. She could feel the energy of it running up her arm like lightning, just like it had when she’d fired the bullet that killed Dewey. God, she’d hated it. And the worst part was, the hated that it made her feel...powerful. It was fucking terrifying. Her finger twitched as she realised how easy it would be for her to do the same to Harry, right here. There’d be no consequences. No one would doubt her if she said he’d attacked her.
“I can’t say anything, Allie. I can’t say anything that will make it okay what I did,” he admitted in a weak voice.
Allie blinked away the tears, trying to clear her vision. He looked so pathetic, dark hair wild and hanging in his eyes, dirt streaked on his cheek, stark against his unusually pale skin.
He looked so fucking human. She swore under her breath. Of course there would be consequences; maybe not punishment, but there’d be consequences. She’d have killed another person. She’d have chosen to end another life and she’d have to live with that weight on her soul.
All the energy drained from her in a heartbeat. Her arm dropped, the gun slipping from her fingers to the forest floor. She followed it, folding to the damp earth with a broken sob, suddenly unable to bear any of it anymore.
She could no longer stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks, nor the sobs that tore from her throat and made her feel like her lungs were going to burst.
Harry could come towards her, pick up the gun, press it to her skull and pull the trigger and she couldn’t stop him in that moment. She wasn’t sure she’d even want to.
She pressed her hands to her head, bits of leaves and earth sticking to her hair.
Beside her there was a footfall and she jerked her head up, wanting to know if this was how she was going to die. Harry was standing over her, staring down at her with a pained expression on his face. He looked as bad as she felt.
Just as she expected him to snatch the gun up, he dropped to his knees beside her and his arms came around her.
She froze. No one had touched her like that since they’d escaped. She could feel the dampness of his sweatshirt from the rain, she could smell the sweat and earth on his skin. His stubble scratched against her arm as he lowered his head, pressing his forehead into her shoulder. She wasn’t sure whether she was holding him up and he was holding her up.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Allie,” he whimpered against her shirt. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Her heart was pounding against her ribs and her chest felt as though it was going to explode. She couldn’t handle his closeness any longer and, with sudden violence, she shoved him away from her, pushing herself backwards till her back hit the trunk of a tree.
He stared at her, tears glistening on his cheeks. The gun sat in the space between them, within arm’s reach for either. His gaze followed her eyes to it but he didn’t move.
He sunk down, sitting back on his heels.
“You can shoot me if you want,” he muttered, eyes going distant. He dropped his head as if he were giving her permission.
Allie was breathing hard, her senses in overdrive. She could feel the rough bark of the tree against her back, smell the rain coming in the air, hear the swaying of the tree tops as if it were the roar of thunder . She shook her head, trying to clear the chaos in her mind.
“I can’t,” she gasped, gaze landing on the gun. She couldn’t believe she’d even held it, let alone contemplated firing it into Harry’s chest. The thought made nausea rise up within her and she squeezed her eyes shut against the world.
4. Remorse
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thanks again for the reviews and kudos. I'm so happy that people are enjoying reading the story as much as I'm enjoying writing it. At this point, I think there will be around 11-12 chapters, so you have a sense of where we are in the plot.
>
> Tell me, do you think the campers will let Harry in? Do you think they can trust him? How do you think Will will react to his arrival?
A heartbeat earlier Allie had had fury burning in her eyes and Harry had had braced himself for a bullet to rip through his body. Now he was kneeling in the damp earth with tears still trickling down his cheeks, watching her squeeze her eyes shut and shake her head like she was battling silent voices. |
84901233fbcf48f2a782e07c03b10a33 | ['5c0d32bb737f4f82a177255085e9b06a'] | Jared, 19: can yalls chill a bit? its gettin a liiiiil heated in chat rn.
Rufihoe: hes just mad that 1m r1ght,
TECH5UPP0RT 0VERL0RD: Y0U 5HUT UP. Y0U’RE THE 0NE AGRIIVATIING HIIM.
Rufihoe: but am 1 wrong,?
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hhh h horses: D=> Yes. 100%. You colt not be mare wrong than you currently are.
TECH5UPP0RT 0VERL0RD: Y0U 5HUT UP T00 HE W0N’T 5T0P BECAU5E Y0U KEEP TAKIING THE BAIIT.
hhh h horses: D=>
hhh h horses: D=> What?
Rufihoe: ur fun to mess w1th, lmao,
Rufihoe: st1ll dont l1ke you though
hhh h horses: D=>
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Rufihoe: you dont know how fun you are to r1le up,??
hhh h horses: D=> If what I think is happening is happening it better not be.
TECH5UPP0RT 0VERL0RD: II AM N0T THE PIINACLE 0F R0MANTIIC ADVIICE - II’M N0T EVEN G00D AT ADVIICE - BUT II WIILL 5AY THII5: Y’ALL BETTER 5T0P.
hhh h horses: D=> This is NOT HAPPENING.
Rufihoe: wa1t what, whats happen1ng,
hhh h horses: D=> NO. NO NO NO.
TECH5UPP0RT 0VERL0RD: BIITCH BETTER DM ME.
hhh h horses: D=SJDKD;
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TECH5UPP0RT 0VERL0RD: UH.
Jared, 19: IT WAS NECESSARY BRO. TRUST ME.
Jared, 19: D=> Someone tell him to give me my phone bajjfcn
Jared, 19: i will not
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Jared, 19 is idle!
TECH5UPP0RT 0VERL0RD: ... GREAT.
l4wful dumb4ss: wtf 1s 3v3n h4pp3n1ng
Troll Jegus: Y9U KN9W WHAT THEY SAY.
Troll Jegus: SAME SHIT, DIFFERENT DAY.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hope you liked it! | 44eaaa2438df4952991eebac1892c27b | ['5c0d32bb737f4f82a177255085e9b06a'] | He does so. Luckily, you’re not bleeding, but you did graze yourself slightly. That can be fixed easily. Just… clean it up. You know. It’ll work. Rufioh cleans up the graze, before putting something that is very stingy on your leg. You make a sound of discomfort.
“Sorry, antibacterial wipe,” He says, mumbling.
You nod, “You could have warned me.”
“I could have, but I didn’t.” Prick.
“Cocky,” You mumble.
You see him smirk. He sighs afterwards, before explaining what he was doing some more, “Ok, now I am going to immobilise your leg, and carry you back to your hive so I can put some ice-packs on it, is that ok?”
You nod, “Yeah. Thanks, by the way.”
He looks up at you, before smiling, “It’s ok, no problem. Just wish we could have met up again in better circumstances,” He chuckles.
“Rufioh, had it not been for this tree branch breaking my leg I would have never wanted to see any person again,” You say, not at all holding back on your bluntness.
“Again, so harsh,” He pouts.
He does the things he said he was going to do - that is, doing the ‘immobilising’ that he was talking about, making small talk as he does so. You respond to the small talk, mainly because it's better than just listening to the sound of silence. It’s too eery.
“Alright. That’s all done now, Horuss. Now I’ve just gotta… somehow get you up. What direction is your hive?” He asks. You point in its general direction.
“Could be over there. Honestly, I just follow the light.”
“That is both creepy and not at all how you’re supposed to find home.”
You sigh, “I’ll direct you. Put me on your back,”
“Horuss, I have wings.”
“Fuck.”
He ends up carrying you in front of him, where one arm is braced behind your back and the other under your legs. You don’t know if you should feel embarrassed about this, but some part of you is, thus making your face feel uncomfortably warm. You refuse to do anything about it. You’re just glad Rufioh doesn’t notice, but that might be because your hair is covering most all of your face.
You hate yourself, but more importantly, you hate how you still love him.
Get over yourself Horuss. It’s been three fucking months.
You direct him to your house, trying not to get too distracted over how warm he is. Warm compared to the cold outside. Warmer than your jacket, even.
And now you’re distracted.
“Horuss.”
“Oh, sorry. I’m just thinking.”
You continue to direct him until, at last, you get to your hive.
“This is actually kinda nice, Horuss,” He says, “Your hive, I mean,”
You fail to hide your bashfulness.
“I mean. It isn’t that great. It's mostly a cave,”
"But you built most of this yourself, didn't you?"
You nod, "Mostly yeah. I replanted the trees that I had to cut to make enough wood to build off of the cave," You explain, "It was hard at first, but I think I've mostly got the hang of it."
"How are you getting electricity?" He asks.
You shrug, “Steam power. I figured out how to create electricity from it a little after I figured out the problem with the last machine - the one I use to get clean water, I mean.”
“Holy fuck,” He mumbles, before jumping and stuttering, “Shit, sorry. Language,”
You stare at him.
“Rufioh, I literally just said fuck to your face about fifteen minutes ago,” You state, “Not only that, I texted you ‘oh fuck’,”
“Yeah, but I care about avoiding swearing,” He tries to explain. You think he means that he cares about what other people would think if he decided to unleash a long spew of swear words. He should. Let out some steam. Who cares.
“You should stop caring,” You say, for lack of better explanation.
“Damn, Horuss, you really have gotten blunter.”
“Oh, so damn isn’t a swear word now?”
“Damn is not a swear word.”
“Why do you censor it, then?”
He stares at you. You got him there.
The two of you enter your hive, and he puts you down on your sofa.
“How the fuck did you get a sofa?” He asks you. You shrug.
“The Void.”
He stares at you, almost lowering it to a glare. Really, he should have expected this answer.
“You ass.”
“You’re an ass.”
“You have a broken leg.”
You shrug once more, “That I do,"
“Where's your freezer, I need to get you something cold,”
“None existent, I guess. I haven’t got around to making one work.”
“How do you cool things?” He asks, worried.
You shrug, “Cold water.”
He stares at you, before sighing. He looks through the first-aid kit and finds a cool-pack. He used it to soothe the pain, and it worked. “You can’t move around for a while you know. I need to reset it, but I’ve never really reset a bone before.”
“That… sounds painful!” You say, not at all looking forward to it.
“It will be one of the most excruciating experiences that you have ever been through,” He explains, deadpan.
“I hate you.”
You let him reset your leg.
**_OW._ **
“I… _hate_ you," You repeat, in pain.
“I know,” He sighs, “I know,”
“What do I do now?” You ask, “Because I can’t exactly… do anything with a broken leg, after all.”
He stares at you for a moment. “I… I don’t know. I want to take you to the hospital, just to get your leg checked out. You can’t really do anything on your own, you have to wait for it to heal. The only thing I can think of is… well, having someone look after you for a while. Until it gets better.”
“I’m not going to get culled,” You say before you can stop yourself.
“Wh… What?”
“I’m not weak. I can handle this.” |
e5c765945d644ebbba0ed0e764f9c6a6 | ['5c221281d54040f28514c1ae1878359d'] | "I'm sorry Rose I can't do this, especially while you're drunk I'm not taking advantage of you. And I can't do this when you were out on a date with another man."
When I looked at her it looked as if she was about to cry. But I like to think of myself as a good man, trying to always do the right thing which is what I was trying to do right now.
"Please Dimitri, after everything I've been through the last few months I need this." She all but begged me, in this moment I wanted nothing more than to comply but I just couldn't.
"Get some sleep Rose." And with that I walked out of her apartment.
I found Ivan in my new apartment after he'd brought the rest of the nieces from downstairs up. All he did was smirk at me as I walked in the front door.
"I swear to god Ivan if you start you can find somewhere else to crash tonight."
"Bro I wasn't going to start anything except ask what took you so long?" I didn't want to tell him but just the look on his face I knew he knew something was up.
So I relaid everything back to him. "Dude you just walked out after that little speech? Seriously?"
"Ivan you know what type of guy I am, I can't do that. Not when she was on a date and kissed another guy before she got home and when she's drunk and I'm sober. I can't take advantage of a girl like that."
Ivan just nodded before grabbing a pillow and blanket and settling on the couch.
I was still so turned on I had to have a cold shower and try to calm down from that situation so I could get some sleep.
However my mind had other things planned and I spent hours just replaying what happened. By 3am I'm sure I was finally asleep.
4. Chapter 4
RPOV
I woke up to a wicked hangover and pounding head. Ugh it’s been a while since I drank so much…
I carefully got up to get some water and pain killers but wasn’t until I reached the sink and I noticed the glass and where my keys were sitting and the events of last night fully came back to me.
“Oh god” I groaned as I remember throwing myself at Dimitri. The poor guy that was nice enough to help me to my apartment. I’ll have to go apologise to Dimitri at some point but right now all I need is to lay in my comfy bed and sleep. Thank god I don’t have classes until tomorrow which I’ll have to prepare for when I’m feeling better later tonight.
I woke up later to my phone ringing, good thing was I wasn’t as hungover as this morning and my head wasn’t pounding either. I looked at the caller Id to find it was Eddie, answering and putting it on speaker while I found what I needed for a shower.
“Hey Eddie what’s up?” “Rose are you okay?” “Why wouldn’t I be?” I tried to sound as normal as possible.
“Well… Adrian told me about the date last night and how you drank so much?” All I could think at that point was oh shit what has he said?
“I’m okay now but I did have a wicked handover this morning, what else did Adrian say?” “That’ll teach you for drinking so much,” as he started laughing on the other end, “not much really just said the date could have gone better and that you weren’t really into it.”
“Oh okay, well I’m going to go so I can shower and start prepping for classes tomorrow, I’ll speak to you later” “Okay bye Rose”
I quickly jumped in the shower and my god it was the best shower I could have ever had on a day like today. After speaking to Eddie I just didn’t know whether I could face Dimitri right now, and honestly I was actually embarrassed for throwing myself at guy when I’d finished a date minutes beforehand.
I’d just pulled all my supplies out for my classes when I remembered I need to check the mail. I grabbed my keys and walked out the door and downstairs, only to see Dimitri standing near the door talking to some guy. The same guy I saw with him last night.
His friend noticed me and when Dimitri saw he was staring at something behind him he turned around, we made eye contact before I quickly looked away. To be honest I was ashamed of what I did last night. I quickly made my way to mine and Lissa’s box which of course was full when I opened it and there was a little note from the post office saying there was more mail there. I internally laughed, between the two of us we have so much mail I think it may be helpful to invest in a P.O. Box.
I was flicking through to see what was for me and important when I heard Dimitri say goodbye to his friend, I started panicking as I heard him walk up beside me. I could feel his gaze on me, I risked a sidewards glance at him but couldn’t look him in the eye.
“Hi…. Rose” He sounded a little nervous, probably because he thought I was going to try and jump him again. “Um Hi Dimitri” I quickly shut the box and started to walk towards the stairs only to have Dimitri follow me. I got to the stairs leading to the third floor and looked behind me to see him staring at me and still following me. | 7d05d15300574f1b9f1ecabe04bfc869 | ['5c221281d54040f28514c1ae1878359d'] | Dimitri on the other hand I needed to meet with before my classes started, luckily he was at the gym alone as it was early. However when I got there some girl I was pretty I had seen in the vampire community was all over him, he seemed to be enjoying it which was good especially with what I was about to tell him.
I walked into the gym and as the door shut, Dimitri looked up at me. He whispered something to the girl and she walked off to one of the training rooms leaving Dimitri and I alone. “Colby I’m so sorry you had to see that especially after what I said to you-“ I cut him off not really interested in the details. “It’s fine Dimitri, actually its more than fine, I asked to meet you because I think it’s time for you to find someone else and you two seem like you really like each other, I’m meeting Thomas after classes and as much as I don’t want to hurt you I’ve chosen him.”
“Oh Colby that’s completely fine, I mean I did leave it up to you to decide but I always knew your feelings for Thomas were always going to win. As sad as I am, you’re right, I’ve known her for quite some time now and have always had feelings for her I just didn’t think she felt the same way, I found out after I sent you that text but figured you were asleep which was why I never got a response. Have you and Thomas sorted things out? Or is that why you’re meeting later on? I’m assuming your decision has something to do with that meeting.”
“Well that’s great Dimitri, though I do hope we can still be friends and I can still come here? Umm yeah we’ve got to talk things through but I think things are going to work out especially since he told me he needed me back.” I explained what happened at the meeting and he actually laughed at the punishment Felicity got. I checked the time, and if I didn’t leave now I would be late for class so I bid farewell to Dimitri and set off back to campus.
Sometime during my lecture I got text from Dimitri saying if I had time the following day there was space in one of the classes at the gym for me to join or he had an hour free if I wanted to one-on-one, but wanted to make sure Thomas was okay with us doing one-on-one training before I agreed to it.
My uni day since it was actually night time for humans flew by pretty quickly, although it was kind of boring I actually enjoyed my classes but there was a lot of studying to do before the next classes. In the end I decided I needed to buy a diary, I had made all the girls and piper had one but figured I would be fine without one, I was wrong. Especially if I wanted to be organised and well-prepared for classes.
When it was finally time for my last class to end I was excited to see Thomas but was nervous as well since things had been difficult between us lately. But when I walked out the room there was Thomas looking absolutely handsome in a suit holding what could only be a clothing bag. When he saw a huge smile crossed his face and he rushed forward bring me in a massive hug, a hug that made me almost lose my books I was still carrying and my bag.
“Oh Thomas I’m so sorry, I’ve missed you so much.” “Don’t worry about that now baby and I’ve missed you too.” He gave me a peck on my cheek before walking me down the hall and stopping outside the bathroom located there. He took my books and placed them in my bag before handing me the clothing bag and told me to change into it, I did as I was told and when I walked in front of the mirror I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful I actually looked at the moment.
Turns out Piper had helped him choose what to wear for me after he explained what he was going to do, which of course I had no idea what it was all I knew was that it was going to be dinner and depending on the time I may have to stay at his house so he wouldn’t be caught in sunrise.
Dinner was absolutely to die for, before the food had come out Thomas had asked me about Dimitri, I explained that I went to see him before classes and told him I had chosen Thomas and that he was okay with it since the girl he had strong feelings for admitted her feelings for him. I also explained to him that Dimitri was waiting to hear from me before he went further with the girl.
Thomas seemed happy that there was no hard feelings so I told him about the message Dimitri had sent me regarding training, and of course since things were getting back to normal between us and Dimitri moving on he was more than happy for me to continue training though he did say I didn’t need to ask if it was okay with him but was happy I wanted to consider his feelings on the topic. |
614b3d49ac744bcd89d6805128472f0a | ['5c35b38afe984fc8814e9587f60d77ed'] | loving every bit of you (or: chanyeol is a snotface)
baekhyun goes up onto his tippy-toes and extends a hand to the back of chanyeol’s head to bring him down, their lips meeting halfway as baekhyun closes his eyes and smiles into their first kiss.
they move on to leaving fleeting pecks on each other’s lips, the sound of lips smacking against each other is embarrassingly loud in their tiny room but baekhyun can’t bring himself to care. he pulls away chuckling just as chanyeol leans in for a deeper kiss and he glances up to take a good look at him as he thinks, “ _mine_ ”.
the moment is broken though, and baekhyun breaks out into laughter as he pushes chanyeol away.
the back of chanyeol’s knees hits the edge of the bed and he falls backwards, sputtering, limbs flailing as he struggles to get to an upright position, all the while blubbering, “why why what what happened why are you laughing oh my _god_ i know i haven't kissed someone in a while was it my breath oh my god i'm not eating garlic again ever _stop laughing and speak to me_ baekhyun -"
“oh my god, chanyeol. i really sorta love you and all your stupid and clumsy and sexy but,” baekhyun pauses to take in sharp breaths of air in-between talking and laughing, “but you really need to clear your nose each time before coming out of the toilet or something if you’re gonna want me to kiss you because i think the mood kinda goes when i look up searching for your eyes and all that i see is the piece of snot hanging off one of your nose hairs!!!”
chanyeol flips over onto his stomach, buries his face into one of baekhyun’s fluffy pillows, and screams.
**Author's Note:**
> Question: "What's the downside of being tall?"
> Chanyeol: "I need to keep the insides of my nose clean."
> Suho: ".... Which one [finger] do you clean it with?" | 284a23aa18f9402d87b89deec27d9ca9 | ['5c35b38afe984fc8814e9587f60d77ed'] | you've been living behind glass
baekhyun wakes up and finds himself transferred into a rather wide enclosed space. he stretches, yawns, and scratches his left ear for a bit before doing the same to -
hang on, something doesn't feel right. he freezes and stares bug-eyed at the eyeballs ogling right back at him. although this is all too familiar (he had probably seen seven pairs staring back at him that one time), he makes a dash for it, ignoring the strange blue hue that seems to be radiating around this enclosed area. the ground feels soft but bumpy against his feet - _ugh_ , he thinks as he looks down momentarily, _why are my feet huge?_ he gets distracted by the dull brown under his feet and wonders for a moment if the bumpiness is affected by the ugliness of the ground beneath him.
his thoughts are rudely interrupted by a resounding _bonk!_ and he falls back onto his bottom, blinking the stars out of his eyes, a slight pain throbbing through his nose that resonates up into his head. he twitches and approaches the strange blue-tinged eyeball in front of him. he'd only taken four steps before his nose hits a smooth surface once more and baekhyun does a double take. _but i'm in a strange place! everything seems blue and the ground stinks underneath my feet! why is there still this.. this dratted barrier? what is it?_
baekhyun cautiously reaches a a little hand out and true enough, it comes into contact with a cool surface. bringing his other arm to the front, he starts to claw and dig at it, although all that he gets are little squeaky noises that his nails makes against it.
he notices that the eyes that were staring holes at him have now transformed into cresents and he stills again, thinking about how much more flattering they look this way. he flinches when they suddenly disappear and a shade moves over the entire enclosure before a sudden burst of sunlight shines down onto a rectangular area of the ground.
_oh my god!_ baekhyun screams as five all-too-familar gigantic pink things come towards him and he attempts to make a run for it. he ends up nose-diving into yet another smooth surface and darkness encloses him soon after.
_oh_ , he thinks as he feels himself being elevated, _i can stay here. i like it here._
it smells nice, although a little musky. it smells like dry oats and apple bits, and nuts too. baekhyun likes nuts. he also likes dry oats and apple bits. he sniffs and draws a tiny tongue out, giving a tentative lick before proceeding to gnaw his teeth against the rough yet pleasantly-textured surface.
the little space that he's trapped in immediately opens up and light rushes at him from all directions. instinct tells him to freeze (which he does), and realises that this is the world that he's been seeing from the blue hued enclosure - only everything is in colour, just like how things were like before they moved him.
he sees one of the five giant pink things approaching but baekhyun stays still, just in case he makes the wrong move and ends up crashing nose first into something again.
_ah that feels nice_ , baekhyun thinks as a tiny force starts massaging the area between his neck and back. he smiles and ends up leaning into the warmth, before he was rudely interrupted by a booming voice hovering above him.
"hi baekhyun, how are you enjoying your new home? there are nuts and sunflower seeds in your bowl. dry oats and apple bits too! the lady at the counter said that they were your favourite. i had to go somewhere else to get it because apparently they don't sell it where i got you. also, the bedding really stinks, but they said that it helps to control your urine's odour! i wanted to get the yellow-coloured ones but it was stated on the packaging that the yellow may run onto your feet when wet. i don't want your white fur around your little pink feet to be stained yellow. that would be sad. the lady also said that you guys like this little massages at your neck. so i'm just doing it, i don't even know if i'm doing it correctly. man, i feel really dumb talking to you like -"
"chanyeol! it's time for dinner, put your new pet down and help me prepare the table, you can play with baekhyun later."
**Author's Note:**
> so, baekhyun's actually a hamster.
> ...... |
4c77a40045c847968428049f0f27c1e9 | ['5c471541e9724641aee23baaf62b10e1'] |
The Treehouse
Ratonhnhaké:ton always had a secret desire for his childhood friend Kanen'tó:kon...
As they grew older he always had to help out, and resque the less sportive and little chubby guy. Ratonhnhaké:ton would've never wanted it any different. This was who Kanen'tó:kon was and he wouldn't want it to change.
As all teenagers Ratonhnhaké:ton and Kanen'tó:kon often hid in the trees and watched the girls from their village.
Ratonhnhaké:ton had heard his mother talk about his father before... she always had a calm and sweet tone, and somewhere there was always a loving touch in her voice.
Yet, Ratonhnhaké:ton and Kanen'tó:kon had this unspoken shared 'problem'. Every girl they saw, they never felt anything like love or desire. Yet they did feel those things when they were together.
They often played games in the trees to increase their speed in the enviroment, but it happened often that it would become a race. Smacking each other's ass while passing one an other.
Kanen'tó:kon once tried kissing one of the village girls, but he felt nothing. No sparkle, nothing. But when he was washing together with some of the other villagers he always laid his eyes on his friend who was washing himself in the same pond, just a few meteres away. How Ratonhnhaké:ton's toned muscules shimmered in the sunlight as the drops of water slowly made their way down.
Kanen'tó:kon couldn't help it but lick his lips and wonder how that delicious looking skin was tasting, how Ratonhnhaké:ton's full lips would taste...- oh those lips... .
Ratonhnhaké:ton walked out of the pond that very moment. It was not as if Kanen'tó:kon had never seen his friend naked before, but it was always a perfect moment. For his own little fantasy that was... .
Ratonhnhaké:ton on the other hand didn't exactly knew how to handle the feelings he had for his friend. Being attracted to the same gender was something he had never heard mother talk about. She always chatted with the girls about other things, and if the subject was love, it was most definitly a heterosexual kind of love.
As he walked out the water he could feel these eyes burn on his body. They were on him, as always. He grabbed his clothes and put them on as slow as he could, eyeing his friend from under his thick lashes. He could see Kanen'tó:kon lick his lips without noticing and moving to the edge of the pond himself now.
This was he right moment Ratonhnhaké:ton told himself and took a sprint into the woods, over the first fallen tree he saw, swinging himself up a branch, around a tree and nearly kicking a squirrel off, as he made his way to one of the many places the Native had build in the trees. The animal made a loud squeek and as Ratonhnhaké:ton looked back if the animal was still okay he saw his friend following him from a distance.
Perfect.
As he reached the place high up one of the tallest trees, it was just a matter of minutes until his chubby friend crawled up there aswell... Breath heavy and he nearly collapsed next to .
Ratonhnhaké:ton.
"Kanen'tó:kon?" Ratonhnhaké:ton asked his friend as soon as he got his breath again.
His childhood friend eyed him;
"I think... I have a problem."
Kanen'tó:kon chuckled low, "What sort of problem? One of the rabbits you trapped escaped? You catched less than 20 deers this time? Or is one of the many village girls not into you?"
"Something like that." Ratonhnhaké:ton lowered his lashes and eyed his hands he now had fold into each other. Kanen'tó:kon cocked his head to the side, giving his friend an encouraging smile as to say 'go on, tell me.'
An awkward silence followed as Ratonhnhaké:ton finally took a deep breath,
"I... I think I might... be in love with... someone."
Kanen'tó:kon felt his heart crumble to a thousand pieces on that spot, but he wanted to be there for his friend, "Well that's amazing news, isn't it Ratonhn?" A faked smile circled on his lips.
Suddenly Ratonhnhaké:ton's eyes shot up again; "No, I mean... I don't know." Kanen'tó:kon wrapped one of his hands around Ratonhnhaké:ton's, "Why? What do you mean?"
Ratonhnhaké:ton swallowed, yes this was the right moment. He looked his friend straight in his eyes,
"Because I'm in love with you, Kanen'tó:kon... "
It took a matter of seconds before the words came through as Kanen'tó:kon still stared in those dark eyes.
"..Me?"
He couldn't believe his ears, but Ratonhnhaké:ton only nodded.
Kanen'tó:kon then shook his head and then shot forward, placing kisses all over Ratonhnhaké:ton's jaw and lips.
Ratonhnhaké:ton laughed, no... giggled. It tickled but he loved it, his friend wasn't rejecting him!
He wrapped his hands around Kanen'tó:kon's waist and laid back as his friend crawled over him, still attacking him with small, loving kisses. "Stop it silly, they can hear us." Kanen'tó:kon whispered as Ratonhnhaké:ton's giggling got louder.
"I'm just very happy Kanen'tó:kon!"
It was indeed a long time ago Kanen'tó:kon had seen the boy laughing like this, and he adored the sight of the delighted face of his friend.
"Kiss me, Kanen'tó:kon..." It was a demand, but the shy undertone was clear. Even though Kanen'tó:kon wasn't the most fit of the village, he had kissed before. Unlike Ratonhnhaké:ton it seemed.
He made a long deep breath and lowered himself on the boy underneath him. Resting on his knees and arms. Ratonhnhaké:ton's hair laid spread out around his head on the wood as his face was completely flustered.
Kanen'tó:kon lowered his head slowly. Brushing his lips against the full lips of Ratonhnhaké:ton.
Ratonhnhaké:ton however pressed that instant his lips fully against those of Kanen'tó:kon. A suprised sound escaped Kanen'tó:kon and a curl circled on his lips. Turning his head just slightly and pressing more soft kisses against those full lips. | db3fe17e440b4d12ba838696c847b6d6 | ['5c471541e9724641aee23baaf62b10e1'] | My eyes are shut when I feel these four hands working on my body. If I only knew my father and teacher could give these blessed massages.... . Haytham's hands move over my cheeks and knead these also a few times. I let out a small moan as his hands are rubbing with a little more force.
Suddenly there is a slippery hand between my cheeks. I try to look at my father. All of sudden a strike of fear hits me.
This is it?
My erection is pressing hard in the matress and pre-cum is making dark spots on it. I am exited but still somewhat afraid of what's next... .
But then the hands move on to my upper legs and start massaging them.
A few moments later I feel Edwards hands move away.
"Hmmm?" I open my eyes and turn my head to the other side again to face Edward. There is a small smile circled on his lips. He lies down next to me as he presses small kisses on my oily shoulders.
There is again the hand between my cheeks. I stare at the top of Edwards head as he is still sucking and nipping my shoulders. I try to relax as the hand is rubbing the insides of my cheeks and presses with a little force a finger on my entrance every once in a while.
I feel the finger wriggle and soon I gasp in suprise as it wriggles inside of me. I grab Edward's shoulder with my left hand as I keep supporting my own body with my right.
"It...hurts..." I close my eyes and dig my nails hard in Edward's shoulder.
Soothing kisses still placed on my shoulders as I feel my father move to my other side. Placing a kiss on the back of my head. "Relax, it will soon feel better."
And he was right... I was able to relax a little around the little intruder inside of me. But with the same speed as I could relax a second finger pushes in. "No..." I croak from the back of my throat, but my body deciding different as I push myself eager against the fingers.
Edward scissors his fingers and streches me out, more than slow.
What if people will hear about this? What about Haytham's job? What about Edward's job? What about his study? Their family? If mother was able to, she would turn in her grave.
As the fingers withdraw I fall back against the matress. "Well then?" My father asks me cocking his head to the side.
"It's your choice..."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I kind of honestly wrote this part for a friend of mine on Y!, I think my latest news got her out of her comfort zone. So I decided to write this part as some sort of 'prove' I'm back, better than ever.
>
> Had a few ... okay quite a lot, personal problems in the last few months...
>
> So therefor this part is...LATE. ... Like LATE- - -
> And I'm sorry but I had other things to take care of.
> I hope to be able to add new chapters soon.
> (As I even decided to add a whole new plot in it, now I just have to get past the smut part. xD) |
c103a3a04faa4b5d8ae3422068c55995 | ['5c48a59cd47b4373a84ea2b16f78406e'] | “Good. Now, come on. Let’s spend Dean’s $50 on all this candy.” Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows conspiratorially, “I got some chocolate mints for you, too. I know how much you like those.”
Castiel laughed, thanking his friend as he followed him, feeling warm and happy and, for the first time, absolutely certain of himself.
Three Weeks Later:
Castiel fretted in his seat, pushing the flute of ice cream he’d ordered around with his spoon. Dean was 10 minutes late, which only aided Castiel’s nervousness and allowed him more time to ponder and think up the worst outcomes possible. He didn’t know how Dean would react to his pregnancy. Dean could be upset and demand that Castiel get an abortion. He could accept Castiel’s decision and just refuse to be a part of the child’s life as a paternal figure. Or he could cease speaking to Castiel altogether. The last possibility hurt the most, Castiel concluded.
The chime above the ice cream shop’s door rang out, signaling that someone had entered. Castiel looked up in time to see Dean sauntering over, bowed legs helping him swagger and strut with an undeniable confidence that Castiel both envied and admired. Castiel smiled up at his friend, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Dean slid into the empty seat across from Castiel, snatching up the menu as if he didn’t know it by heart. Castiel and Dean had been coming to this place for over 5 years and the menu hadn’t been altered once.
“So many options.” Dean said under his breath, his green eyes skimming the list of choices quickly before he let out a happy, little noise, “Ah, banana split! Classic.” Dean finally looked up at Castiel, smiling brightly, “so, what’s up, Cas? I’ve barely seen you for, like, a month. What’s been going on?”
Castiel cleared his throat, abandoning his spoon to the lone scoop of vanilla ice cream melting at the bottom of the glass, he shifted in his seat. Dean watched him steadily, his eyes slanting in suspicion. Dean was pretty perceptive, often tuned into Castiel’s moods, smelling out his nervousness and anxiety. Castiel ran his long, graceful fingers through his hair, gearing up for the inevitable fallout, “I have something to tell you.”
“Okay…” Dean replied slowly, all of his attention directed to the dark-haired man seated across from him.
“I don’t want you to be upset or feel betrayed, Dean, but I made a decision that I, that I think affects us both.”
Dean sat up straighter, pushing his menu aside, “Castiel, what’d you do?”
“Do you, do you remember three weeks ago? Outside of the diner? In your car?”
“Yes, Castiel. I have the mental capacity to remember three weeks ago.”
“We didn’t have a condom, you remember?”
“Cas, don’t, please don’t tell me—“
“I never got Plan B.” Castiel pushed ahead. “I wanted, I made the decision to let things run their natural course. I took two pregnancy tests yesterday and they both came back positive. Dean, I’m pregnant.”
The server bounced over then, all smiles and cheery attitude, asking Dean what’d he like to have. Dean slowly turned a steely, smoldering gaze toward her and barked out a harsh, “Banana split. Bring that and the check and don’t come back over here again.”
The woman skittered away, holding her pen and writing pad close to her chest. Castiel sat stoically in his seat, waiting for Dean to speak again. When the young man said nothing for a long while, Castiel asked quietly, “Dean, are you going to say anything?”
Dean looked up at him, so much anger and betrayal tarnishing the beauty of those bright green eyes. Castiel shrunk back against his chair and stared down at his disgusting, lukewarm, half-eaten ice cream.
“So you just, you just took what’s mine and did what you wanted with it?” Dean asked lowly, leaning forward and grabbing Castiel’s chin, yanking his head up and forcing blown open, blue eyes to meet his gaze. “My fucking sperm! You took it and now you’re forcing me to have a baby? Seriously, Cas?”
Castiel wretched his head free, “No, Dean. You don’t have to… I’m not asking you to be a father—“
“Shut up. People don’t just break out the ‘I’m keeping your baby’ bullshit without wanting some kind of support, financial or otherwise.”
“I’m not asking for money, Dean. Honestly, I’m not. I’m not expecting you to be in its life; I just wanted to tell you. Let you know that, that I’m having a child.”
Dean leaned back, scowling, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest, “that’s what you think of me, Cas? You think I don’t take care of what’s mine? You think I’ll just have a kid out there in the world and not take care of it properly? If that’s what you think why even have my kid, huh? Why even, why even trick me into knocking you up?”
A banana split boat was sat in front of Dean, a checkbook quickly following. The server let out a hushed, barely audible, “I’ll take that whenever you’re ready. Absolutely no hurry on that,” and walked away, never to be seen again.
“I didn’t trick you, asshole.” Castiel spat, quietly, “If I remember correctly, you were the one begging to fuck me.”
“Begging? Castiel, I didn’t need to beg you. Shit, I barely even had to ask. You wanted my dick so bad, you didn’t even wait for us to get to your apartment. You let me fuck you in the backseat of my car, in the parking lot of a diner like some slutty prom date. Don’t pass judgment on me!” | cc40c5af33ff40b9b68d3d2e73ad425c | ['5c48a59cd47b4373a84ea2b16f78406e'] | Dean opened the driver’s side door and plopped down into the seat, pulling off into the night without one look back at his friend. Castiel huddled down into the seat and held on to that $50 for dear life; that $50 kept him grounded, reminded him that Dean would never be his, not completely. No matter how many times Dean moaned ‘I love you’ into Castiel’s ear when he came, no matter how many times Dean would eat his ass out for hours just to hear the sounds that Castiel would make, no matter how many times he woke up beside Dean, the morning light shining across his beautiful tan, freckled skin, no matter how much Castiel loved him, Dean would never love him back.
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Again, I do not own Supernatural or anything affiliated with it. I appreciate the feedback and kudos that I've been getting; thank you! Enjoy and please feel free to leave any constructive criticism. All grammatical, spelling, and writing errors are my own and I apologize for them. Thanks for reading.
Castiel walked the aisles of the pharmacy, wasting time by picking up superfluous items that he had no plans of buying. He knew that all he had to do was go up to the pharmacist and request his purchases, but he found that he didn’t have the gall. Gabriel bounded up beside him with an armful of candies, rolling his eyes, annoyed with his friend.
“Castiel, we’ve been here for over 30 minutes.” Gabriel groaned, shifting around the contents of his arms, “go get your damn stuff and let’s go. Our shifts start soon.”
Castiel nodded, but continued to pick up different kinds of toothpastes as if weighing the pros and cons of each brand. Fed up, Gabriel shot out a hand and plucked the Colgate box from Castiel’s fingers, shoving it back onto the shelf, “Castiel. Either go buy your shit or let’s go.”
Castiel turned to his friend, letting out an exasperated sigh, “I can’t. I’m too chickenshit.”
“Do you need me to do it? I’ve done it before—for Anna.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just, what if I’m pregnant?”
“Um, that’s exactly why we’re here, Cassie. To make sure that you don’t become more pregnant.”
“No, I mean, what if I’m pregnant with Dean’s child?”
“Even more reason. Cassie, Dean’s… Dean’s an odd one. He fucks you, he’s been fucking you, but he continues to date women, wants to be with women. He’ll never, he doesn’t
take you seriously as a potential lover, you understand?”
“But what if this is my last chance, Gabe? I’m 39. Now’s the time. This baby might be it for me.”
“Jesus, Castiel, don’t do this. What if a few months down the road you find the perfect guy? You’ll be stuck toting around another man’s child. This baby will be a constant reminder of the guy who fucks you and then leaves money on your chest while his come is still hot inside you!”
A woman the next aisle over cleared her throat pointedly, giving both men dirty, unimpressed looks. Gabriel rolled his eyes, sighing as if put upon, and led Castiel further down the aisle, out of earshot, “I’m not saying all this to be cruel, Cassie. I want your happiness above all else, but don’t… don’t force Dean to be the father of a child he clearly doesn’t want.”
“I won’t. I’ll let him know that I’m keeping it, if I’m actually pregnant, but assure him that he doesn’t have to be in the child’s life at all if he doesn’t want to. I would never… I would never make Dean do what he doesn’t want.
“Things don’t work that way, Castiel! A child is a heavy burden. Dean’s, surprisingly, a very family-oriented guy. He won’t walk away and you know that better than I do.”
“So I shouldn’t tell him?”
“You shouldn’t have it!”
“I want it, Gabe! Jesus, I want this goddamn baby. I don’t have anything else. I have no family, I have very few friends, and I work as a server at a shitty diner. I need this. I need something to love and that’ll love me back. I’ve wanted a child for so long. I’ve been saving up for this kind of responsibility for years now and it’s just never happened for me. It’s awful feeling so… so unfulfilled and empty all the time. I don’t have much else. I know it’s selfish and stupid, but it’s my body, okay? This is my decision!”
“Christ… Castiel, if you’re lonely get a fucking cat.”
“Just, just go away. You’re being awful right now.” Castiel stared down at his flat belly, forlorn.
“No, I’m being honest,” Gabriel started, wrapping an arm around Castiel’s shoulders and pulling him close, “but you’re right. It’s your body and your little bundle of cells so, if
you really want it, I’ll support you. Where Dean can’t be, I will. I’ve always wanted to be the cool uncle type anyway.”
“I don’t need that from you.”
“Oh, please, Castiel. You’re a train wreck. You won’t survive without me.”
Castiel gave Gabriel a small smile, toying with his fingers nervously, “thank you, Gabe.”
Gabriel sighed, jerking his head in the direction of the ‘family planning’ section, “We should get some tests, just to make sure.”
“Okay. Yeah, that’s a good idea.”
“Wait three weeks, though. Just to be sure that the results ring true. Don’t tell Dean anything until you’re absolutely certain, okay? The guy eats nothing but burgers and pie and I’ve never seen him drink a glass of water for as long as I’ve known him. A pregnancy scare, I’m sure, will just send him to an early grave.”
Castiel laughed lightly, pushing Gabriel away, “You’re right. I won’t tell him until I’m absolutely positive.” |
793ce40961db4c6584c0e70af923e739 | ['5c58047d90b34f2e858388c5dc19f60f'] | Frank nearly jumped out of his own skin, eyes widening as he turned around to face whoever had spoken. There stood a dude that was no taller than him, which really was surprising because Frank was quite short.
He had black hair, his fringe covering his hazel-brown eyes that were lined black, and a rather amused-looking expression on his face. He was also clad in all black, matching his space station rather well.
“Who the fuck _are_ you?” Frank demanded, trying to stand his ground. This dude had kidnapped him, he was more than capable of hurting Frank, but he still wasn’t going to stand there and look weak.
The guy grinned, sticking out his hand. “Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III,” he told him smoothly. He smirked, leaning in closer to Frank when he didn’t take his hand, “but you can call me whatever you like.” Frank could feel his breath on him when he spoke, giving him slight shivers. He frowned, not liking how very little distance there was between them.
“I think I’ll call you Creepy Asshole,” Frank decided, earning a laugh from Pete, but at least he moved away after that. Frank was surprised that he hadn’t pissed him off or anything, but the guy seemed like he didn’t get angry too easily. He’d found Frank in his room and hadn’t yelled at him, after all.
Pete turned around, waving his hand in the air.
“C’mon, follow me and we’ll continue talking,” Pete spoke, still sounding rather amused. Frank rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. Pete was the second weirdest alien Frank had ever met, tying close for first place with Gerard.
They walked out of the room and then down the stairs, and then down the hallway once again until they reached the other side, which led to a large recreational room. There were comfy-looking chairs, large TV screens, and a table piled with food. It looked like there was a party going on, judging by all the people that were gathered.
Pete turned to make sure Frank was still following, flashing him another grin. Frank rolled his eyes.
“So you kidnapped me to bring me to your...party?” Frank asked, finding himself becoming less and less afraid. Pete’s face fell a bit at the unamused tone in Frank’s voice.
“This isn’t a party, it’s a business meeting,” he explained, voice suddenly serious. Frank raised his eyebrows at that, and Pete went on. “For the war, you know?”
“I’m well aware of the war,” Frank put in. Pete didn’t look surprised, simply grabbed Frank’s arm and led him further into the room. There were people sitting and playing video games, and others were standing around the tables, drinking or eating pizza.
Frank was not amused. “This is a fucking _business meeting_?” he questioned, unconvinced. Pete simply sighed heavily, shaking his head.
“Well, it _was_ one,” he allowed, leading Frank over to the table. He dropped the subject, grinning at Frank before grabbing him a few slices of pizza and placing them on a plate, holding it out to him. “Pizza, dude?”
Frank rolled his eyes, but accepted the plate. It was better than soup and beans, which was all he’d had left at Gerard’s. He brought the pizza to his mouth reluctantly, finding that it was actually quite delicious when he took a bite.
Pete’s eyes widened suddenly, as if he remembered something, and he turned to address his followers.
“Oh, guys, listen up!” he called out. Nearly the entire room quietened, their attention on Pete. He smiled, gesturing towards Frank. “I got Frank!”
The room erupted in cheers, all looking at Frank excitedly. Frank was so not understanding what was going on at all. He turned to look at Pete quizzically.
Pete simply smiled. “You’re our hostage, dude!” he turned back to the table after that, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb. He glanced over at Frank. “Pepsi or Coke? Please tell me you aren’t one of those weirdos that actually _likes_ pepsi, though.”
Frank actually wasn’t a pepsi lover, shockingly enough, so he accepted a bottle of Coke from Pete. He frowned at him.
“Why am _I_ a hostage?” he wanted to know, and rightly so. Pete simply shrugged.
“Well...the leader of Black Station Zero, Patrick, and I aren’t exactly on the best of terms, which started this entire war,” he began, his expression looking troubed now. Frank still didn’t see what this had to do with him, but he listened intently anyway. “He won’t even talk to me anymore. And one of the guys in the Group found out that one of the Way brothers had decided to abduct a human,” he stopped, smiling at Frank. “That’s you! And anyway, I thought that maybe if I took you and kept you here, he’d have to come eventually.”
Frank blinked at him, slowly processing all the information. “Okay...so it’s not even an actual war, then?” he asked, feeling relieved.
Pete glared at him, his entire demeanor changing. “Of course it is, it’s a very serious matter! How dare you even suggest that, mortal.”
Frank raised an eyebrow, bringing the bottle up to his lips and taking a drink before speaking.
“It sounds more like a stupid little fight to me,” he muttered. He really should have kept his mouth shut, but that was not how Frank rolled. Pete’s expression darkened as he walked closer to Frank, actually looking kind of intimidating.
“This is not a stupid little fight, so you’d better hold your tongue and realize who you are speaking to,” Pete hissed, jabbing a finger into Frank’s chest. Frank looked down to his chest, then back up at Pete, a little scared now. “You are the _hostage_ , and I am the _leader_ of the Decaydance Station!”
Frank nodded, holding his hand up in surrender, the one that wasn’t holding his Coke bottle. “Yes, sir.” | c3b1658cdc7d419d9942d470b8842687 | ['5c58047d90b34f2e858388c5dc19f60f'] | “Yeah, no biggie,” Pete grinned, looking at his boyfriend once more. “So how’s the steak, Mikes?”
Pete’s attention was on Mikey once more, and Gerard felt himself deflating a little. Pete was the first person he’d had a proper conversation with in months. One that didn’t turn into an argument, that was. It was pretty sad that his brother’s boyfriend was his only form of a friend anymore.
He could try calling Ray. The two hadn’t properly spoken or hung out in ages. Maybe it would do him some good to hang out with his polar opposite. He left the living room, Mikey and Pete hardly noticing his departure. He shut his door behind himself, taking his phone out of his pocket. He found Ray’s number in his contacts, frowning as he debated over what to do.
He wanted someone to talk to, but would Ray be understanding? He’d already expressed his dislike for Gerard’s interest in Frank before. They didn’t really talk about it after that, but now it was Gerard’s biggest concern. It was hard to tell someone that he was depressed without giving them the reason why, because then they’d just nag him endlessly. Maybe he should just pretend to be happy, and at least have someone to hang out with.
He tapped the call button, holding the phone up to his ear and waiting. Someone picked up after around three rings.
“Gerard? Is that you?” He sounded shocked, and Gerard knew why. He hadn’t called Ray since they were in middle school.
“Hey, Ray. What’s up?” Gerard asked casually, leaning against his door. “Do you wanna hang out?”
“Whoa, slow down,” Ray spoke, sounding flustered. “You called me for the first time in like...three years, and now you’re asking me if I want to hang out?”
“It’s not like it’s been that long since we’ve seen each other,” Gerard pointed out, rolling his eyes. “But, yes. Yes I am.”
There was a pause, then a weird ruffling noise. Ray was probably in bed, or something.
“I mean, I can hang out,” Ray replied, sounding hesitant. “It’s not like I’m doing anything else, really. Do you want me to come over, or?”
“Can we go somewhere? Mikey and Pete are here and--”
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Ray cut him off. “Umm, why don’t you just meet me at the mall? At the entrance?”
“Okay, yeah. What time?” Gerard asked, eyebrows furrowed. Ray was being more neurotic than usual.
“In like, an hour?”
“Sure. See you then.”
Gerard hung up, feeling more confused than he had been before. Why did Ray not seem too keen on talking about Mikey and Pete’s relationship?
Then it hit him. Ray had a thing for Mikey, a few years back. It was probably the most pathetic crush Gerard had ever seen, and Ray had never told Mikey about it. Mostly because Pete had already snatched him up for himself, but Gerard didn’t think Ray was ever going to make a move anyway.
Besides, Mikey had always had a thing for Pete. That was just the way it was. Ray’s crush was never going to be returned, and Gerard actually empathized with him on that one. Maybe he and Ray weren’t so different after all.
***
As promised, around an hour later Gerard found himself at the mall. He didn’t see Ray anywhere, and the crowd was kind of getting to him. He felt so alone, even in the midst of all these people, and it only made him feel worse.
He pulled his phone out of his coat pocket, tapping the home button. An unread message from Ray stared back at him on the lock screen.
‘Sorry I’m late, I’ll be there in like two minutes, I swear!’
Gerard scoffed, slipping his phone back into his pocket. Of course Ray wasn’t going to stand him up, Gerard had only been being paranoid. He glanced around at his surroundings, trying not to look as awkward as he felt. No one paid him much mind anyway, but it didn’t stop Gerard from thinking they did. Everyone had their own lives, their own troubles to worry about. Why would they care about the weird black-haired kid with his hands in his coat pockets?
He let out a sigh of relief when he spotted Ray’s bouncing fro coming towards him. He put on his happy face, smiling at Ray.
“Sorry, sorry!” Ray puffed. “My Mom decided to give me every chore known to man.”
Gerard waved it off. “Don’t worry about it,” he told him sincerely. It wasn’t like he had been waiting that long, anyway. “How’ve you been, Toro?”
Ray gave one last huff. He looked at Gerard properly, frowning.
“I’ve been okay. What about you, though?” Ray asked, this weird knowing look on his face. His eyebrow was raised curiously, a look in his eye that Gerard didn’t try deciphering.
Gerard shrugged, scuffing his shoe on the mall entrance’s floor. “You know, just the usual.” he gave Ray a smile, though it probably wasn’t as convincing as he’d have liked for it to be.
Ray glanced around, grabbing onto Gerard’s arm. “Here, why don’t we go somewhere else? We don’t wanna be in everyone’s way.”
Gerard allowed Ray to lead him to the near-deserted book store, and they ended up standing in front of the comics section. Ray crossed his arms, looking at Gerard pointedly, his eyes beckoning. Gerard hated how Ray always looked so friendly and inviting, like you could spill all your secrets to him and he wouldn’t judge. He had judged Gerard before, but that was in the past. So long as Gerard didn’t bring any of that up, they’d be fine.
Gerard cleared his throat, grabbing a comic and flipping through it absently. He realized too late that it was a Spiderman comic, though, and he shut it as if it’d burned him. _Fucking Frank._ He placed it back on the stand, finally looking Ray in the eye. |
de45ec86a2fb4d7792472702c1b43a8c | ['5c8d0ceedcf9465bba56ef02c9297d51'] | My mind froze, not sure if I had heard right. I turned around slowly and my eyes caught hers. It was her, the doctor who looked at me sometimes. She had a different look in her eyes today, not of pity or remorse, but what looked like determination. What could she be determined about? I sat up fully and stared at her apprehensively. She pulled a spiral notebook from out of her stack of papers and grabbed my pen from my nightstand. Handing them to me, she spoke.
“I know that you don’t like writing because you think they’ll read it and do more tests. But I will allow you to destroy each page right after you write on it if you’d like. I just want to know some things about you.”
I was gaping at this point, I’m sure. I didn’t know what to make of this woman in front of my bed, expressing what seemed to be kindness towards me. I shook my head slightly to clear it and grabbed the notebook shakily. I had no reason to trust this woman. I shouldn’t trust her. But I had this feeling, deep in my chest, that told me she was good. Not like the others.
I opened the notebook to the first page. I grabbed the pen and held it to the first line. These lines were smaller, they would be hard to fit my writing inside. I stopped and looked up at her, waiting for my first question.
She understood, and set her papers down on the floor. I looked at them and back to her, confused. She leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, and spoke; “You’ve been here your whole life. Have you ever wondered what was outside of this place?”
I tensed and grit my teeth. This was a bad question. This wasn’t a question I could answer. She noticed my raised shoulders and said, “Anything you don’t want to answer, just shake your head and we’ll skip it. Okay?”
I blinked and shook my head quickly. I didn’t know why I was trusting this woman so much, enough to even let her be in the same room, let alone agree to communicate with her. Either way, I let her continue.
“They call you Patient Zero, but you can’t like it. Have you ever wanted a name?”
I held the pen to the paper almost instantaneously, and began to form the first letter. I paused, looked up at her, and she was looking at my face. Not the paper. I didn’t know what to make of that. I looked back down and continued writing. It took me a while, seeing as I hadn’t actually written in a while. When I was finished, I gripped tightly to the edges and turned it around briefly to show her. I had written, “I call myself Zero”.
She smiled at the paper and said, “Thats no name for a young lady. Zero means nothing, worthless...”
I scribbled, “Exactly”.
She stared at the sheet with what looked like expectation in her eyes. I lowered my hands and hid the words with my blanket. She glanced up at me, and smiled slightly.
“I understand how you feel.”
I had to repeat what she said in my head twice to feel like I heard right. I must have looked confused because she explained further.
“My father left when I was a child; he left with another woman. My mother passed away soon after. There was no choice but to put me into foster care along with my two brothers. I can’t say I’d rather be in here than foster care, but I get what it feels like to want out. To want to be free.” She gestured at herself, “Look at me. I’m here, I’m free! Yeah, I’m 38 and getting older by the minute, but I’m finally free. I have a job, a house, a family. I had my chance.”
At this point I feel like she was bragging and telling me how great her life was, and how mine would never be the same even though we both had ‘tragic pasts.’ I started to tear out the page in the notebook to rip it up when she added softly at the end, “When will you want yours?”
My body froze completely with the half torn-out page in my hand. I felt my heartbeat quicken; what was this woman trying to say? Was she trying to get me in trouble? I didn’t want to talk to her anymore. I quickly finished ripping the page out and tossed the notebook away from me, crumpling up the paper into a ball in my palm.
“Right, too much talking. Real quickly, though…” She leaned down to grab her papers, then stood up, straightening the hem on her shirt, “Do you mind if I come in again, sometimes? If you want, we can put in a CD and just do our own things, or we can ‘talk’ like this again. Would you be okay with that? Nod if yes, shake your head if no.”
I hesitated. What did this lady want from me? Why does she want to talk to me? I jerked my head down slightly, ignoring my brain screaming at me not to agree. She nodded and smiled at me. As she walked out of the room, she paused and looked back at me, where I was trying to avoid her gaze.
“One last thing…” She waited until I looked up at her, annoyed that she wouldn’t leave. “I think Zero is a pretty name. Its unique.”
I gaped as she closed the door, leaving me in the quiet that sounded all too loud in my ears now.
**Author's Note:**
> so here we are, the first chapter. i'm actually pretty excited for this. hoping it turns out well! happy reading!
>
> \- max | 708eb1c0fba44112ab96293fba3c302e | ['5c8d0ceedcf9465bba56ef02c9297d51'] | “Damn it, I’m a grown adult. I know how to do things myself, tell him to fuck off.” Ray laughed at that, telling me to just call him myself. I grumbled and sat on the edge of my bed, I don’t want to deal with Mikey right now. I’m tired as hell.
“He’s right though, you actually do need to unpack at some point.”
“Actually, I have been unpacking. I only have a few boxes left, and that’s because I’m still deciding if I want to set up my art area in the office or living room.” I lied casually, and as usual he caught it with ease.
“Mhmm. Just make sure to at least get your necessities unpacked tonight. You start with Catalyst tomorrow, right? Bert’s been asking me to call you about Thursday. The band’s a bit bigger than the ones we usually show there so we had been trying to find out how to expand the floor space to fit about 100 more people.”
“Yeah, I’m scheduled to go in at 2:00. The floor’s only big enough to fit 1000, right? How would we fit any more than that? Its cramped as fuck already,” I was drawing blanks on how to expand anything, the only way I could think to was to move the stage back and cut about eight feet off of it, which just wouldn’t work.
“Yeah, we weren’t able to do it. Things have been crazy, he’s getting on everyone’s asses about it. And he wants you to go in and meet with the band Wednesday and tell them we couldn’t make it happen. I don’t get why he can’t call you about these things himself, but, can’t complain about the boss to his face.”
Again, I was put as the bearer of bad news and put in a place I couldn’t escape. Bert always put me in these positions, I think it was because he was still pissed about me turning him down almost a year ago. Ray didn’t know that of course, so I just said I didn’t know and we exchanged our goodbyes, promising to check in again after my meeting with the band. Exhausted and finally able to lay down in peace, I fell back on my bed, my eyes closing the second my head hit the pillow and, releasing a sigh of relief, I soon fell into a sweet, dreamless sleep.
> > > > >
**Author's Note:**
> well, first chapter is up!! let me know what you think and if you want me to continue the dumb adventures of gay nerds, like i will anyway but i appreciate feedback too uvu
>
> \- xoxodanial |
324e0cbdd8ff4e47b26562ad25b560dd | ['5cab313a086342518d54b7e7be63be59'] |
A Language All Our Own
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Firstly- I apologize for this it's probably awful RIP
> Secondly- You all can blame Rei aka LINK because me writing this was her idea lol
> Thirdly- I hope you enjoy <3
* * *
_‘I can’t believe it, I’m actually here. This is actually happening.’_
I bounced on my feet, holding my album tightly as I waited for my turn. I had actually made it here, to BTS’s first fan sign. I had planned this out as perfectly as I could, knowing there was a large possibility this would be my only chance.
I saved up, bought the tickets, and even tried to learn some basic Korean just so I could do this. This had to go smoothly. I sighed as my nerves tingled, my stomach flipping at the sight in front of me.
They were all there, looking cute as ever. But my eyes settled on one boy in particular—the eldest. Kim Seokjin. He was the first of the lineup.
Seokjin was by far, my bias. As much as I loved the group as a whole, something about Jin just clicked to me. I could somewhat understand him, though I’m far from being an idol—I was also the oldest in my friend group, and I often felt a little awkward because of it. My friends, though younger than me, were so much more talented than me in different areas, and as much as it hurt to admit it—I was the out of place friend.
Yet, even though the other members often got a lot more love and attention, Jin was still amazingly talented, and funny when he didn’t have to keep up the cold image the company put him into. He was caring, and sweet, and his voice was gorgeous. He had a cute smile, and pretty eyes, and his overall demeanor was so friendly and calming. His situation didn’t seem to faze him, and he sewed himself seamlessly into the group dynamic. I wished I could do the same.
There were still a few girls ahead of me, and I bit my lip as I watched their interactions. _‘How nice it must be, to be from the same place as them. To have the same culture, to know the same language. To be able to communicate easily and relate so well.’_
I swallowed, moving with the line. I had managed to learn basic Korean quick enough, for this trip, but there was no way I could hold a full conversation. There was no way I could convey just how much I love this group, these guys, these amazing humans, with Korean.
Damn, I wish I had the foresight to have written it down! At least then I could have simply handed over notes.
I tensed as the girl in front of me went ahead; I watched her movements carefully, how she slightly bowed her head and how Jin held her hand for a quick second after they high fived. God, she called him oppa. Should I do that? I’m not Korean, though. But would they find it disrespectful if I didn’t?
I jumped as the girl behind me nudged my back, startled as I locked eyes with Jin, who looked equally shocked. Why, I have no idea.
I made my way to the spot in front of the singer, settling down and after pausing, bowing my head just so.
Jin seemed to come to his senses, blinking quickly before greeting me with his clear voice and smiling brightly.
I replied, in clumsy Korean. This was all going so fast. I could feel my hands shaking horribly as I set down my album carefully on the table, trying to hide my nerves.
“Where…you from?” Jin asked me, his English broken and heavily accented, but still so cute. I cleared my throat, answering his question as clearly as I could.
“Oh…you come here, a long time. To meet,” he said, still smiling as he signed the booklet, but his voice was tight. He sounded as nervous as I was. I felt bad, for making him so anxious, going through so much trouble just to try to communicate with me. But, I had to say this, I had to get it out now. It was my only chance.
“Yes, I…I really love BTS, the music…I really feel it, in my heart, when I listen. Even though I have to read translations. And…I love your voice so much. You are my favorite singer, not just in BTS, but ever, I think. You have so much talent, and your voice is so touching. When I hear you sing, I think I know what Heaven must sound like. I really wish for you guys to become big, and successful. And I really wish for your talent to be recognized, and I hope you will be able to shine as much as other members.”
I rushed out the huge speech, knowing I didn’t have much time, but hoping my words were clear enough for him to catch and maybe understand a little. He looked…shocked, and definitely confused, and a little…worried?
“Oh…thank you?” he answered, quietly.
I smiled sadly, knowing he probably didn’t catch 97% of what I just said. But I felt good after finally letting it all out, and saying it out loud anyway. I nodded my head into a small bow again, and let my hand meet his as he raised it for a high five, blushing as he did the same thing I had seen him do earlier—lightly curl his fingers and hold onto my hand, for just a second.
Maybe it was just the fangirl in me, but I could have sworn I felt some type of connection as he kept his gaze on me, still so fond even though I had both butchered his language and probably made him uncomfortable with mine. Even though he still looked tense, his face was still so kind. | 517ac2e69ed640cf831ac09470ce0f8f | ['5cab313a086342518d54b7e7be63be59'] |
Sweet Sugar, Hold Me Close
**Author's Note:**
> LINK
>
> * * *
“Back so soon?”
Hoseok sighed, glancing at Yoongi with dull eyes as he slowly made his way from the vacant parking lot to the motel’s dingy porch. The gravel crunching under his shoes was as gritty as the elder boy’s voice, both already grinding on Hoseok’s nerves.
“Shut up,” he spat, “I don’t wanna hear it, I don’t wanna hear anything else from you tonight.”
The neon vacancy light was flickering, a few of the letters unlit. The glow illuminated the other boy’s face slightly, and Hoseok could see the amused smirk that graced his features.
It made him sick.
Yoongi chuckled darkly around his cigarette, sharp eyes following Hoseok closely as the younger roughly pulled the ratty screen door open, and slammed it shut as hard as possible behind him.
“Go on, be a fuckin' bitch about it then!”
Rolling his eyes at his boyfriend’s exasperated insult and ignoring the tears already threatening to spill out, Hoseok went to the couple’s small shared bedroom and locked the door before pouring out the contents of his convenience store bag onto the bed, hands shaking and his breath quickening.
Hoseok often claimed he didn’t know how it started, letting anyone who knew about it assume he was simply a sugar addict. Maybe he was addicted, just as addicted as the ill-tempered boy smoking his lungs black outside their motel room—Hoseok would never admit that, though. He wasn’t destructive like Yoongi, fire and smoke loving Yoongi.
He just likes his chocolate, that’s all.
* * *
_Hoseok is three, as he proudly proclaims to anyone who asks, and he’s sat scrunched up behind the worn-out second-hand couch in the living room. He’s playing pretend with his Winnie the Pooh and Tigger stuffed animals (gently, because poor Pooh has a few boo-boos and his stuffing keeps falling out—his mommy keeps forgetting to give him stitches). They’re going on an adventure through One Hundred Acre Woods, which is normally a quiet and relaxing affair, but Hoseok has to talk out loud for this adventure because his parents screaming at each other in the kitchen keeps drowning out his head’s story dialogue._
_“I never even wanted a God-damn kid in the first place, so just get off my back why don’t you!”_
_“Well, too bad! He’s here now, so take some fucking responsibility and try not being an alcoholic dead-beat for once!”_
_“Hah, you talking about responsibility, that’s funny, I’m not the one popping pills every damn day and running off to God knows where when things get a little too rough!”_
_“Maybe I wouldn’t need pills if you weren’t such a useless piece of shit!”_
_Hoseok shifted at the sound of glass breaking, holding his hands over his ears for a moment, before laying down on his tummy on the coarse carpet. He held on tighter to his toys, his eyes clenched shut._
_“We should go see Piglet ‘cuz the noise scares him,” he whispers in his best imitation of Pooh’s calming accent._
_He didn’t have a Piglet toy, but that’s what playing pretend was for._
_“Fine, leave then, bitch!”_
_Hoseok gasped, jolting at the sound of the door slamming loudly. He scrambled to his feet, hearing his daddy coming into the living room still yelling mean words and smelling like the stuff that made him sleep a lot._
_Keeping his hold on Pooh bear, Hoseok carefully toddled out from behind the couch and over to his daddy, who had sat down in the old recliner chair and turned their box TV on to almost full volume._
_“Daddy, I’m hungry,” he whined, pulling lightly at his dad’s shirt sleeve._
_Hoseok watched quietly as his dad mumbled to himself wildly about “not needing to deal with this right now” and rifled through the side table drawer before pulling out a candy bar._
_“Here, now go play somewhere the hell else,” his dad huffed, shoving the chocolate bar roughly into Hoseok’s tiny hands._
_“Thanks Daddy,” Hoseok said quickly before making a beeline towards his bedroom, deciding now was not a good time to mention that Pooh bear was hungry too. He figured he could share his candy bar this time._
* * *
Hoseok let out a heavy breath he didn’t know he had been holding as he sat cross-legged on the stained, sheet-less box spring mattress and carelessly ripped open the wrapper of one of the candy bars. He let the shiny piece of foil and paper fall to his lap, beginning the pile. He hurriedly brought the candy to his mouth, biting roughly and chewing so hard his jaw was tight. As soon as the sugary sweet milk chocolate and caramel flavor hit his tongue, he checked out.
One, two, three down, and he hears the front door banging open, Yoongi shouting something, but he already had the fourth wrapper torn open. He could vaguely register Yoongi pounding on the bedroom door, but the noise was already fading to the very back of his consciousness, his attention wholly on the nirvana right in front of him.
Whether the saltiness came from the peanuts or his tears that had been steadily streaming, he wasn’t sure, but it tasted like bliss.
* * *
_Hoseok is seven, as he answers excitedly to the surprise of anyone who asks. He’s much shorter and thinner than the other boys his age, but he doesn’t mind much because he’s also one of the fastest boys on the playground. He gets lots of running practice. He’s also one of the best hide and seek players, almost always winning that recess game. He gets lots of hiding practice._ |
3e2cd45df7a44817b84b80f31bfbee2a | ['5cabb4f09d694525bd797c05f4511da0'] | “I grew up here, so yes I know, and that’s kind of why I told you not to buy any.” Bolin held out Hoshi in front of him. “Now heal Hoshi’s poor little paw and we can have breakfast.”
“You people are insane for not eating meat with every meal. Meat makes you stronger.” Akarik grumbled as he reluctantly put the food down and started healing Hoshi’s paw.
“No it doesn’t, look at me, I practically never ate meat when I was growing up and look at me now!” He flexed his muscles, and admired them rippling in the sunlight.
“Yeah, well, I have a cousin who eats nothing but seal meat and seal blood and he’s way stronger than you.”
“You’re joking.” Bolin said flatly as he let the now healed Hoshi go back to her perch on his head and sat down near the table. “People from the Water Tribe do not drink seal blood okay, Korra would’ve told me if you did.”
“Korra’s from the South.” Akarik responded as he set out the plates. “Southerners are weird, backwater hicks.”
“I think that drinking blood makes you the hicks.” Bolin said, accusingly jabbing his chopsticks at Akarik.
“We mix it with the brains first, if that makes you feel any better.” Bolin’s jaw dropped open and Hoshi took the opportunity to steal some food from his plate. Akarik frowned, and swallowed. “Look it’s really good for you and it’s tasty too.” Bolin turned green. “Oh come on, you grew up eating from dumpsters, how is blood disgusting to you?”
“It just is, okay, blood is not meant to be eaten, especially not with brains.”
“Don’t speak while you’re eating.”
They were still arguing about it as they got dressed ( _you eat it raw I can’t believe that I refuse to believe that_ ), clung to the rickety trolley as it slowly worked its way towards the abandoned warehouse ( _Qallunaat food is disgusting anyway our food tastes so much better_ ) they and the other probending teams had converted into a training room, the arena being still under repair.
“Okay, so maybe I am being culturally insensitive but I still think it’s really gross.” Bolin declared as he dumped the duffel bag and Hoshi on the warehouse floor.
“What’s really gross?” Mako asked from his place leaning against the wall.
“Eating seal blood and wait what are you doing here I thought I told you I could handle this myself, didn’t I tell him that the last time he came here?”
“Yeah, you did.” Akarik responded, glaring at Mako.
“Is he bothering you?” Bolin asked the dark skinned girl, who was standing nervous and shabby looking in her second hand outfit by the nets with her long wavy hair tied up in a ponytail.
“No, he was just asking me my name.” Avanti had a slight accent, and she spoke slowly in an attempt to hide it.
“Good, good. Well now that that’s been cleared up we can start practicing and you” He gestured to Mako, “can leave.”
“Bolin I-”
“No talking, just leaving.” Mako scowled and scratched the back of his neck.
“I was just checking on you. The Red Monsoons have been really active around here lately.”
Bolin frowned at him.
“Then you should probably ask Inusiq what she thinks they’re up to after you leave.” Bolin said pointedly, gesturing towards the door.
“I was just-“ Mako sighed and raised his hand up to his forehead. “Fine. If you get into any trouble, you know where to find me.”
“Yeah, thanks. Stay safe.”
When Mako was gone and the gear was almost unpacked, Avanti spoke. “That was your brother?”
“Yeah, that’s Mako.” He replied, as Akarik muttered uncomplimentary things under his breath. “He’s just a little overprotective sometimes, ever since I moved out. He doesn’t mean anything by it.” Bolin coughed and scratched his neck. On the one hand, he wanted to defend his brothers behavior. On the other hand, he would not lose another teammate to his brothers paranoia. “Anyway, we should probably get started. Our first match is in a week so we don’t have much time to prepare, show us what you got.” He threw a ball at her with cheerful enthusiasm and grinned when she caught it.
He already knew Akarik’s style, a weird blend of self-taught, harsh movements that looked completely at odds with his perfectly traditional, flowing movements lifted straight out of the dances. He was radically different to Korra, but he’d been pro-bending for two years, and working with Bolin for several months, so his movements were easy and streamlined with Bolins own.
Avanti wasn’t like that. For all her prowess and natural talent, she’d been trained in a firebending style that Bolin had never even seen before, her movements flashy and circular and deliberate instead of Mako’s short, controlled and efficient bursts of fire. It was more disconcerting than Bolin would admit to be working with a firebender who wasn’t his brother. “Less flashy, and keep your elbows up. Akarik, light on your feet.” He told them, after she’d taken an earthen disc to the stomach and he was getting up after being knocked down by a blast of flame. “You need to be ready for anything.” They both nodded, and got to their feet, and for a few moments the Fire Ferrets were actually doing well, anticipating each others movements and counter attacking in a harmony that was, if not perfect, at least better than usual.
Then Bolin became aware of a muffled giggling, sighed and paused the training session with a wave of his hand. “You guys can come out now, I won’t hurt you.”
“I might.” Akarik grumbled as Avanti looked around, confused. | c555b32deda14cb8ace4d0fa0448179b | ['5cabb4f09d694525bd797c05f4511da0'] | The only possessions of Hiroshi Sato that the police had seen fit to return to her were small and mostly useless. A packet of cigars, a box of matches, a spare pair of spectacles, a business card with a name scribbled on it. She sorted through them mechanically, until there was only one thing left. It was a small, worn family photograph. Her mother smiled out serenely at her and for the thousandth time Asami wondered at the smoking, bubbling ruin that the Agni Kais had made, and how different it was from this graceful creature, and how she could only remember one and not the other.
She sat there for a long time, reliving her mothers death, until the voice reached her ears. “Asami.” For one brief, ridiculous moment she thought it was a servant until she looked up and saw the Equalist standing in the doorframe, blocking her way out, and for several brief ridiculous moments after that she considered fighting it in her too expensive silk pyjamas, without any weapons at hand. The figure raised its hands in a gesture of peace.
“What do you want?” Her voice was steel, but she was sure that the figure had noticed the tremor in her hands as she put down her photograph.
“To talk.” The voice was familiar.
“What could we possibly have to discuss?”
“Your joining us, and bringing justice to Republic City.” He sounded so sure of himself that Asami almost gaped at him.
“I believe I’ve already made it clear that I want nothing to do with your organization, or your twisted brand of justice.” She snapped, getting up from her seat.
“The Equalists have changed, Asami, we have freed ourselves of Hiroshi and Amon’s corrupting influence, and returned to our original cause of justice and equality for all.”
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”
“You should.” And he reached up and took off his hood and Asami saw a round face with black hair and brown eyes, a face that she knew. “I know it’s hard to believe. I didn’t believe it at first either.”
“Chao?” She asked disbelievingly. Chao had been her childhood friend, the only grandson of the man who had financed her fathers first Satomobile. But it couldn’t be him. “Chao you’re an earthbender why are you with the equalists?”
“Because the Equalists have _changed_ Asami. Do you really think that non-benders are the only ones who suffer in Republic City, that benders don’t suffer as well? How many children did your father hire to provide the electricity for his factories, and how many more are forced into the gangs because there is no hope for them in this city? How many children starve because they have no bending to make them yuans and how many bending children are crushed beneath the wheels of industry because some idiot foreman works them to death rather than lose the bonus in his salary?” She thought of Mako and Bolin and the Triple Threats. “The Equalists will change that. The Equalists will make things right. The Equalists will make everything right, Asami, you have too believe me.” He stepped forward suddenly, his hand outstretched. “Come with me.” He said earnestly. “Come with me and meet our leader and let him explain himself to you. You don’t have to join us, not now, but if you could see all the good we’ve been doing I know you would.”
She was silent for longer than she should have been. “Chao, get out of my house.”
He looked as though he’d been struck, but he retreated all the same, pulling his mask on as he left. “You don’t have to choose yet. We just wanted to show you that we’re not the organization your father supported.”
She had a telephone in her house, it was one of the few luxuries she allowed herself, and she knew the number for the police headquarters. She held the awkward, oversized contraption to her head for a long, long time, listening to herself breathing, before she put it back with a quiet finality. “Nobody would believe me.” But it was a flimsy excuse, and she knew it.
3. Chapter 3
Bolin woke up to the feeling of something pressing down on his chest and the smell of roasting meat filling his apartment. “Akarik get off.” He mumbled, realizing what the source of the weight was. “Couldn’t you wake me up like a normal person would?”
“I tried, but you are abnormal and therefore impervious to even my best efforts.” Akarik responded, dark eyes flashing with amusement as he looked down at Bolin.
“So you decided to sit on me.” Bolin grumbled.
“Technically I’m straddling you.” Akarik replied and he leaned down and gave Bolin a long, slow kiss with his hair spilling over his shoulders and tickling Bolin’s chin that was interrupted when Hoshi started squealing and the smell of roasting meat abruptly changed to one of burning meat. “Oh, _fuck._ ” Akarik swore as he rushed over to the stove and removed the wok. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ we are getting rid of that stupid animal as soon as physically possible you hear me?!”
Bolin sat up with the frantic lemur clinging to his hair, licking her burnt paw furiously. “Hey it’s not her fault you were cooking something that smelled really tasty!” He cradled Hoshi in his arms protectively, ignoring her frantic attempts to get back on his head.
“No, but it his her fault for trying to snatch it out of the wok and then dropping it on the stove!” Akarik was furiously digging through the noodles, looking for bits of lemur fur. “This is going to completely ruin the flavour and do you know how expensive meat is in this city-“ |
a47bbd3f8d0d43f88806a688334a3b83 | ['5cc521d5292648f38bdf608039e8bed4'] | satsuki was too busy playing with the corgi and samidare was on his phone looking at the weather “ a week..it will last a week” ganma groaned “ that means we have to stay in this house for a week” beru poked him in the eye “be nice..ganma it won’t hurt you to stay with family...once we go back to work who knows how old samidare and satsuki will be,tsuyu will probably be 40 by the time we set one foot in this house again” everyone stared at beru ganma blinked a few times surprised at her speech “she’s right dad i’ll probably be 33 by the time y'all come back” ganma looked at his children then his wife then ochako who is still hugging beru “y'all are right i'm sorry for being a butt” everyone nodded ganma looked at satsuki and hugged her “hm? Daddy” satsuki was in her normal inquizitive state “my tadpole” tsuyu hugged her mom and ochako beru smiled “my tadpole” they both don’t have favorites but they do have their clingiest and closest child tsuyu is beru’s clingiest and closest child and satsuki is ganma's clingiest and closest child samidare is that child that doesn’t cling (or so he says but he is with ochako) he didn't realized he was all over ochako until beru said something “sami let her breath” samidare looked at ochako whose head is buried in his hair and asleep he looked around and saw ganma laying on the floor and satsuki on top of him sound asleep and the corgi next to them and tsuyu and beru snuggling in her purple sweater and ochako had her arms around him sound asleep he smiled and went back to sleep.
* * *
~~~ The next day satsuki was the first to wake up and played with the corgi then samidare woke up and ochako did too and joined satsuki playing with the dog ganma was last to wake up and saw everyone playing with the silly pup “hey what are y'all doing?” “ we’re playing with flicker” the pup ended up rolling over like the clumsy pup he is he was a good entertainment for satsuki beru looked at ochako and brushed her hair back into place (cuz of her sleep head) “were is tsuyu?” “she’s in her room” ochako thanked them and went to tsuyu’s room and opened the door slightly. She was asleep ochako went up and in her bed tsuyu still is asleep so ochako thought it would be nice to give her a little kiss.but the kiss ended up to be a lover's kiss.their tongues battling with hunger but after a few minutes ochako pulled away defeated “morning” “morning beautiful” tsuyu is always so peaceful and soft in the mornings if she wakes up first she’ll turn to face ochako and cuddle and give soft kisses on her cheek or forehead. The storm started and tsuyu got a little shakey but ochako made her feel safe just by looking at her so they stayed in bed until beru called for breakfast
2. the dad
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> ganma and ochako gets to know each other
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> not like that
Ganma sighed and looked at his wife “do i have too” beru put her finger on his chest “yes you have to,me and tsuyu are tired of you two not getting along” ganma had never seen beru annoyed and then tsuyu’s voice could be heard from her room “ochako your going to go ok i need you to know him more...it hurts me to see my dad and my lover not get along” ochako looked down tsuyu cupped her face in her big hands and made ochako look up “ honey look i'm doing this for you” ochako hugged her and rubbed her face against her chest “i won’t fail you tsuyu!” ganma sighed again “very well honey very well”
They walked in silence avoiding each others gazes “so where do you work at?” ganma took a minute to answer “i'm the principal at salty banks middle school” ochako smiled “oh thats where tsuyu went right wow” ganma nodded and looked at her and smiled “yeah it is”
They went to the cafe and ordered some coffee and talked “so you and tsuyu are in that part of the relationship hm?” ochako nodded “and then they talked and talked until they were ready to go.
“So how did it go” beru and tsuyu looked at them “ it was good” everyone smiled and hugged each other.
**Author's Note:**
> smut chapter is in the last chapters hek my life this is my first so spare the hate ffs | 5c07c3622e1046fa88c0c499507363ef | ['5cc521d5292648f38bdf608039e8bed4'] | 1. Chapter 1
> tsuyu walked to her parents room with a thermometer in her hand with the degree of 91 and opens the door "hey mom sami has a- OH MY GOD" beru and ganma was naked and beru was on top of ganma and beru said " It's not what it looks like " then tsuyu said " I'm gonna go now....have fun " after tsuyu left beru slapped ganma on the head "ow!! what was that for" "you came inside me" ganma fell out of bed as soon as beru jumped off ".........sorry i just got nervous!" beru wiped some of the cum off her leg ".....yeah...nervous"
>
>
2. stuff on the asui family
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> what the asui family is
ganma:is depressed
beru:is afraid of squirrels
tsuyu: is gay for ochako
sami: is emo
satsuki: is confused all the time
3. annoying satsuki
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> satsuki annoys samidare
satsuki: *pokes sami*
sami: stop....
satsuki: *slaps sami and runs*
sami: oh ok- "runs after her"
tsuyu: *sleeps*
sami&satsuki *runs in her room and knocks everything down*
tsuyu: OH MY GOD Y'ALL- *runs after them*
beru: Y'ALL GET ON MY NERVES *walks in and gets bumped into and runs after them*
ganma: ......this is every day for me
4. ganma's staples of life
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> "what is life"
> \- ganma asui
ganma: *staples the wall*
milki: STOP!!!!
ganma: what is life
milki: *theows a mug at ganma*
ganma: ........thanks
5. understandable
satsuki: *looks under sami's bed* sami are you ready to come out and interact
sami: REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
satsuki: understandable have a nice day
6. pictures $$$$
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> family picture
pic taker: smile!
ganma: *falls asleep standing up and the camera light wakes me up* jesus crist!
beru: should have smiled
ganma: ill make you smile *winks
beru: .....meet me in the bedroom
7. bekfast
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> bekfast bekfastbekfastbekfastbekfastbekfastbekfastbekfastbekfastbekfastbekfastbekfastbekfastbekfastbekfastbekfastbekfast
ganma: *flips eggs and bacon*
beru: honey you dont have to be so hard
ganma: i know you like it hard
sami&tsuyu: OH MY GOD WHY!!
beru: meet me in the bed 5 seconds
ganma: *zoom*
8. beru old town road
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> how satsuki was made
beru hops off and hops back on and riiiiiides till the cum goes in
and thats how they made satsuki dadadadadadada
9. no.....
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> tsuyu and ochako
tsuyu&ochako: *watches tv*
tsuyu: *gets in ochakos pants*
samidare: no
10. sami stop
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> nothng
sami: *bobs head
tsuyu: sami stop you look like your a retard |
ad6a12fde94448fd9b3e5c1fff67edc6 | ['5cdab1d98aae4270a637c77c698f7dd3'] |
i'm so furious (at you for making me feel this way)
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> So this fic was inspired by LINK tumblr post, and I would like to give due credit to dondaario and littlelions101 for serving as the inspiration.
>
> A very happy birthday to Kai! I hope you enjoy this and have a great day!
>
> Title from 'Gorgeous' by Taylor Swift.
Most people born with a soulmark preferred to bare it out to the world; to show it off and wait until the fateful day when their soulmate would appear before them and say the words that would intertwine their lives together, forever. Amy Santiago, however, was not most people.
The words that Amy was born with were splashed across her arm in curvy letters, and caused a slight panic when they were read. Words like “death” had no business being on a newborn’s arm! But Victor and Camila Santiago soon came to the conclusion that since they never knew anyone with a name quite like that, there was no reason to worry.
After all, the name in the tattoo sounded made up, and the words “I can’t believe Dumbledore dies”, while ominous, didn’t present any cause for immediate concern.
Growing up, Amy was always confused and slightly worried for the mysterious ‘Dumbledore’ who was inked into her skin. After all, while she didn’t know him, he was one of the first words her soulmate spoke to her, so she figured that he must be involved in her life on at least a basic level, but she never could figure out to what extent. Until, of course, she was eighteen years old.
* * *
Lately, all of Amy’s friends had been discussing a new book that they had been reading, and had been urging her to purchase it herself.
“Amy! Did you get it yet?” Kylie asked excitedly the moment she caught sight of her friend. Seeing the dejected shake of her head, Kylie deflated.
“What’s taking you so long?” she asked, falling in step with Amy as they walked to class. Amy, looking exhausted, said, “You know how much I spent on those new binders with the good tabs!
Mama and Papa won’t give me enough allowance to go and buy the damn book.” She then brightened up and said, “I think I’ll have enough soon though! I’ll tell you immediately after I get it!”
Kylie nodded vigorously as they took their seats in the class, leaning over to continue their conversation before the professor entered. “I don’t understand why you don’t just get it from a library.”
“You know I already checked, they don’t have it yet,” Amy huffed, sending her a look as she pulled her books out. Kylie just shrugged noncommittally and turned to look at the front as the professor walked into the room.
Amy scratched the tattoo on her arm through her sleeve, which she kept covered up out of habit and her parents’ behest. For some reason, it had been very itchy for the last few days, and she couldn’t figure out why.
* * *
That weekend, Amy finally had the chance to purchase the book when her allowance was given to her. “Now, _mija_ , don’t spend it all quite so soon this time,” Camila warned her as she handed her the envelope. Amy nodded as she accepted, walking toward her room to put it away. And if she took out a few bills as she went, well, no one except her needed to know.
“Finally,” Amy sighed to herself as she collapsed on her bed with a brand new copy of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone_ , ready to unwind from a heavy day of classes. She had enthusiastically been told that while it was technically a children’s book, it was an excellent story and that she had to get it as soon as she could. Cracking it open, she began to read.
Halfway through the first chapter, her spine stiffened as a name familiar as her own sat emblazoned across the page. Eyes widened in horror, Amy slammed the book shut, her heart beating a hundred miles a minute, the implications blooming in her mind against her will. If Dumbledore was a book character, then that meant...
Her furious scream echoed throughout the house.
Amy began to fester an unwarranted hatred for her mysterious soulmate who, by no volition of his own, had inadvertently spoiled what was turning out to be a worldwide phenomenon for his other half.
Already secretive about her soulmark, she was forced to hide it even more stringently, lest someone saw it and was unfortunate enough to have been a fan of Harry Potter as well, which happened to be most of her friends and family. She had already been forced to field several calls from irate relatives who knew the name Dumbledore from only her soulmark and were upset that a future book had been ruined for them, to the endless amusement of her brothers and exasperation of her parents. They, at least, understood that it wasn’t her fault.
Kylie, who had not seen her soulmark, began to press about its contents as they became closer, whose questions Amy was forced to dodge. Her only defense (“You’ll hate me if you see it, trust me”) was met with increasing scorn. Things came to a head when Kylie pulled up her sleeve when she fell asleep in her room, and brought the house down with her shrieking. When she finally calmed down an hour later, she promised Amy she wasn’t mad at her.
“It’s not your fault, but I hope you know that I’m going to hate your soulmate forever,” Kylie told her. She laughed, more out of relief than anything else, and said, “You and I both, Kylie, you and I both.”
* * * | a72853c6ca664a0bad4da277344a8285 | ['5cdab1d98aae4270a637c77c698f7dd3'] | So when she got tripped over on her way to a class, she instantly turned with a barb on her tongue and fingers reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there, to be faced with a snarling princess: Audrey.
“What the hell do you want?” Uma demanded, itching for a fight.
“To send you back to the Isle, of course,” Audrey sniffed, looking disdainfully down at Uma. Uma felt fury rise in her and she forced it down, the word Isle knocking something loose in her. She knew that if she went back to the Isle empty-handed again, Ursula would not forgive her; she would be dead the moment her feet touched land. She instead set about collecting the things that got knocked on the ground, keeping her lips tightly pressed together and shaking with fury.
“Mal, Evie, Jay and Carlos don’t deserve to be here, but you are even less worthy than them, which is saying something,” Audrey said over Uma’s head; Uma gritted her teeth but continued collecting her belongings.
“You are the worst type of person, I can’t believe that Ben allowed you here,” Audrey continued. At this point, Uma had enough of listening to the prissy girl in front of her.
“You listen here, punk,” Uma snarled, pointing her finger at the other girl’s head. “You do not mess with me, or I’ll –”
“Or you’ll what, Uma?” Audrey asked, suddenly coy. “Who do you think everyone will believe? _Princess_ Audrey, daughter of Princess Aurora and Prince Phillip, or Uma, daughter of Ursula and a villain who had already tried to take over Auradon once?”
She let out an airy laugh that skyrocketed Uma’s anger, yet left her feeling grudging respect for the tactics of the girl in front of her. Half of the VKs wouldn’t be able to come up with plans such as the so-called ‘good’ girl.
“Try what you want, Uma, I’ll be happy if you do,” Audrey smirked and began to walk off, stamping on Uma’s homework for the next class on her way out. At least, until a voice stopped her.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Audrey,” Mal said, stepping out from behind a pillar, eyes already glowing green. Audrey took a step backward in alarm.
“I heard every single thing you said, and who do you think people will believe? Audrey, a prissy pink princess from Auradon, or Mal, Lady of the Court, the girl from the Isle that defeated Maleficant and Uma?” Mal smirked, watching in glee as Audrey’s face lost all colour. She quirked her eyebrow, and Audrey hastened away from them, leaving a shocked Uma to be helped up by Evie, who had appeared out of nowhere.
Mal took in Uma’s stunned expression and her face softened slightly. She bent down to pick up the homework that Audrey stamped on, dusted it off and handed it to Uma.
“Don’t look so surprised, Shrimpy,” Mal smirked, grabbing a few papers from Evie’s hands as the girl stumbled for her phone as it began to ring. “I may hate your guts, but Auradon folk don’t diss a VK without retribution from the rest of us.”
Evie smiled at Uma warily, but backed up Mal’s words. “If we don’t stick together, no one sticks with us.”
Mal tapped Evie’s elbow, and they both started making their way to where they needed to be, neither of them turning to look back at Uma as they continued their conversation. As they rounded a corner, Mal yelled out, “I still hate you!” and flipped Uma the finger, then disappeared.
Uma stood in shock for a while, then smirked a little before securing her hold on her things. The smirk turned genuine for a moment as she looked at the corner the other two girls had just turned to, then turned and walked towards the other end of the corridor, a soft look persisting on her face and gratitude she didn’t want to show welling up inside.
She looked down at her phone, realised she was extremely late for class, sighed and wiped her face of any emotions. Continuing to walk, she too rounded the corner and disappeared. |
e00f5c4db42546b3a3ca756cffc1c7e6 | ['5cff93e0e5f34c2693c420d0980e1c9d'] | Over the past four years he watched Lilly at least once a week and whenever else Jensen needed to work longer hours. Today though Jensen would be going to one of his monthly appointments with his shrink. the other man was always drained and deeply depressed after those sessions, his usual bright and beautiful eyes all red and puffy from crying his mental pain out. After the third of those exhausting appointments Jared insisted on watching Lilly for the the whole night and, whenever Jensen felt better and ready to face the outside world again, he could come pick her up the next day.
Jared didn't know what exactly Jensen and his therapists discussed, of course he knew that the main subject would be Jensen's past with Tom, but the details were still unknown to him. Jared was sure it would break his heart to know the whole truth. Break his heart further than it already was.
_Four years ago Jared had said goodbye to Jensen at the hospital, shortly before Tom had picked him and their daughter up. Jared didn't care if it was inappropriate or not but he couldn't help himself, he wrapped Jensen up in his arms and hugged him, almost crushed him in the act. But something told him that this was either the last time he'd see the older man alive or at least in a physical healthy condition. The thought alone had shattered him. The memory of his little sister a constant reminder of how badly a relationship like Jensen's and Tom's could end. But there was more than the need to protect him, more than doing his job to save a life. He couldn't save his sister, a young woman with her whole life ahead of her, died because she refused to ask for help, refused to admit that her young marriage was excruciating and her small body could only handle that much agony. The last and fatal kick to her ribs had one of the bones pierce her lungs. She fought for almost two weeks in the hospital until her lungs finally collapsed and there was nothing the best doctor in the world could have done for her. Her body too tired, too weak to pull through._
_When Jensen was admitted to the hospital by the truck driver who had found him Jared was already on his way to his car, ready to have a beer or two after too much work and yet another guy he had to dump a couple weeks prior because they were never what Jared wanted, never looking for the things in a relationship Jared longing for._
_He was called back to the emergency room before he could reach his old beat up Jeep and he hurried inside and was caught off guard when pleading green eyes stared up at him, begging him to say that his baby was okay. Immediately Jared yelled at the other doctor and nurses, demanded to know where the baby was, if it was brought in with the man. "Sir, how old is your baby?" Jared had asked, looking straight into sad green orbs and then a movement of the patient's hand caught his attention. The man held his belly, begging Jared again to look after his baby. In a matter of seconds Jared's brain started to function again, shooting out orders to get the guy into the sonogram room as fast as possible._
_At first Jared thought the guy was maybe robbed, but it was a cool evening, nobody would run around in only shorts and a shirt. A homeless person might, but then again the shorts were an expensive brand, even on sale they'd gone for at least a hundred dollars, same fit for the shirt. Underneath the faint smell of sweat and the coppery smell of blood was the scent of sharp and fancy aftershave. The man was definitely not homeless. And that was when all alarms in Jared's head went off._
_Chad had told him to let it go, to quit comparing everybody and everyone's relationship to his sister's but Jared trusted his gut, knew that his patient was neither robbed nor attacked by a stranger. Two days Jared had walked in and out of Jensen's room, doing a job he knew the nurses would do just fine on their own. But he couldn't get the man's teary eyes out of his mind, the fear and pain so clearly visible. During one of his visits he heard Jensen mumble in his sleep, broken cries, asking to be let go and something that sounded like a name, but Jared didn't quite catch it. Though, it was enough evidence to prove Jared's speculation._
_Jared couldn't stay away, even after Jensen had woken up. He was constantly searching out the man who had been so close of losing not only his baby but also his own life. The brutal rape his patient had endured was a close call and the enormous amount of blood loss could’ve easily killed him if he would’ve been found only hours later. The older man was snippy and pissed off whenever someone tried to talk to him, which didn't stop Jared to look after the guy though._ | f8dc77d13f8b411dbf42ab7c93179572 | ['5cff93e0e5f34c2693c420d0980e1c9d'] | Jared averts his eyes back to the screen and he is sure that he already knows by what he can see. He knows, however, that Jensen and their son want to know and they want to know for sure. So Jared nods, “yeah. These two can’t wait to find out.” Jared motions to Matthew and the phone in the boy’s hand.
With a few more skilled moves of the transducer, Dr. Witts finds the perfect position to zoom in on the screen and freezes it, “looks like the young man is going to have a little brother.”
“A boy?” Jensen asks through the phone, his tone a clear mixture of excitement and pride.
“Definitely a boy.” Dr. Witts confirms and Jared bites his bottom lip, a huge smile breaking out over his face.
“I’m having a little brother!” Matthew jumps from his chair and steps closer to Dr. Witts, taking in the picture on the screen; trying to make sense of it. “When can I play with him?” His eyes draw away from the screen and back to Jared, desperate look of impatience shining through.
“Well, we still have to wait a little while longer before he is born.” Jared explains to his son and before realizing that Jensen has gone quiet and he addresses the other man, “Jen? You still there?”
There is still a moment of silence, then, eventually a small “uh-huh” rattles through the phone. There is no doubt that Jensen is tearing up, his voice giving him and his emotions away. It is exactly how Jared knew Jensen would react. To either a boy or a girl. And, the happiness radiating from all of them is more than Jared could have ever hoped for. He is absolutely certain that from here on out nothing can stop them from being a real family again, from being together and have what he and Jensen always dreamed of. Turns out, spontaneously flying to New York was the greatest idea he ever had.
Jared feels like celebrating and there is nothing he would rather do in this moment than wrap himself around Jensen and kiss the man for what he is worth. As it is though, Jensen won’t be in Austin for another two days. A few more phone calls will have to do until then. He makes a mental note to make up for lost time when they are finally reunited. After all, they have a lot of celebrating to catch up on. This baby deserves to have each and every moment celebrated, just like they did with Matthew, and Jared knows they will make good on that.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Again, thank you wifey! The ending is perfect and you freaking nailed it. *kisses*
9. Chapter 9
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> In this chapter, I will mention bottom!Jensen from their college days. It is important to this chapter and important for their story; for their life. This chapter entails a light desciption of bottom!Jensen, of what happened when Jared topped - but in order to understand why Jensen never tried to carry children for them, this needed to be added. There will never be any further bottom!Jensen in this story.
>
> As always, I won't post an update without thanking my beautiful and talented LINK for her perfect beta-skills. I love you so much, Freckles! Miss you!!! <3
##### **July 21st, Austin/TX**
Ever since the first session, Jared was all on board with going through with therapy. No matter how it always manages to turn everyone’s emotions upside down. Their second meeting with Claire was pretty easy though. Mostly, they talked about Matthew, how their son is over the moon with the fact that Jensen is now back in their lives. More so, Matthew is bubbling with happy energy and already very protective of his baby brother. All in all, telling their son about the many changes has gone easier than Jensen and he had first thought. Their fears were unjustified. And, of course, he and Jensen don’t have to hide anymore. Which Jared can’t put into words how relieved he is over. No more secret touches, no more stolen kisses. Finally, he can kiss Jensen without first looking around if their son is watching. Finally, he can wake up next to Jensen without having to check if Matthew is still asleep. The hiding surely gave their relationship a certain thrill, an excitement that they never really experienced before. However, it kept their nerves on edge. So, it is definitely a good thing that they can openly show their affection again.
Today's session with Claire, however, takes its toll on Jared. He feels guilty and downright terrible from the moment the therapist directs her first question at him. He lived with the illusion that, yes, they have to dig through their past, but Jared didn’t count in the fact that this would also include the life he lived for the last five years; the years Jensen wasn’t a part of.
“Jared, during our very first appointment you said something that I purposely ignored until now. I wanted to make sure we’re on the same page, that you willingly talk to me and, of course, that you trust me as your therapist.”
Both he and Jensen look at Claire, directing their sole focus at the woman sitting in front of them. Jared can feel Jensen’s nerves radiating through their joined hands towards him. Neither of them know specifically what Claire is getting at and it leaves them trembling. |
4a553ddd3a114d2fb15fa80bbd07de3b | ['5d240e575092478d96c6b95c5f2c9fbe'] | Vittorio was just getting up when Barnes stomped forward and booted him on the rump, making him fly face first into the grime by the curb.
"Pick on someone your own size!" he yelled after him. Vittorio snarled bestially but scampered off down the street when he saw Barnes' determination for what it was: tight-lipped and unforgiving.
Once Vittorio was out of sight, Steve coughed, embarrassed. Barnes turned to him, grey bright eyes centring on Steve's own.
"Hi, fella. That's pretty rough, you need a hand?" Barnes walked over and squatted in front of him, using his newsboy cap to wipe the sweat from his forehead.
"No. Yes. No," Steve wheezed. Barnes laughed.
"You got a concussion or sumthin'? Your head alright?" Barnes reached for Steve's forehead only to be swatted away. Steve coughed again, and his back hurt, but he managed to pull himself to his feet without leaning on Barnes, who placed himself close on Steve's left.
"You need to watch out for yourself, Stevie. It was lucky I saw you, you know. Wouldn't have been pretty if he'd followed through," Barnes said seriously; his expression was a far cry from its usual light-heartedness.
"Yeah, yeah—" he started to say just as Barnes pinched him. Steve was shocked, thrown back to when he'd failed Lucie.
"I mean it. Don't get yourself killed, Steve." Barnes didn't blink.
"Yeah, okay. I hear you," Steve breathed softly. He put his hand in his hair, trying to lay it flat against his head. He was dumbstruck by the gravity in Barnes' voice, but he couldn't help it when he continued:
"Vittorio deserved that first punch though."
Barnes let escape a choked guffaw.
"You always this stubborn?" he asked in a lowered, revering voice.
"Get used to it, Barnes," Steve blew the blood and snot from his nose into the gutter. It was a glob of red goop, and Steve felt a little sick as he wiped his mouth.
"Hey, that reminds me—Call me Bucky. Short for Buchanan."
"Buchanan?"
"Yeah, my middle name. My friends call me Bucky." Barnes put a hand on his back, and Steve almost shoved him off before he registered what Barnes had said.
"Friends?"
"Yeah, friends. People who you like, people who've got your back in a fix, you know, who'll share their lunch with you?"
"Don't be funny. We're friends?"
"If we're not friends, what are we then, eh? Acquaintances? Fella, I think not," he said casually before snapping his cap back on and wrapping a full arm about Steve's torso, his hand coming to rest against the bottom of his rib cage. They left the shade of the alley; Steve remembered dreamily that it was summer now.
"Huh." Steve said obliquely. He felt blindsided. He felt a little bit dumb. But most of all, he felt for the first time in months a faint pulse of happiness moving blood through his body. | fec1848a5a614c7e93930afbd6b8acb5 | ['5d240e575092478d96c6b95c5f2c9fbe'] | “Not for a very long time—he had asthma before the serum. We was plenty used to this back then,” Bucky said, reminiscing. He held Steve’s hard-knuckled soft hand as he slept. She eyed him warily, and after a moment’s pause continued her questioning.
“What other conditions did he have? Before the serum, I mean.”
“Gosh, doc—many. Real bad eyesight, pretty much deaf in his left ear, asthma as you know, scoliosis—“ Bucky was about to list more when he noted the odd voice in which she had asked him.
“Why you asking?”
“Well, it’s been 35 years since the serum was administered to him. Almost 95 in real time. It could be that it’s starting to…” she hesitated, “That it’s starting to wear off.”
Bucky frowned. If it was wearing off for Steve, then shouldn’t it be starting to as well for him?
“I don’t know, James. It’s only a possibility. I don’t know what else could explain this.”
Marren left after 2 hours with the express instruction to make sure Steve rest it out. The serum would likely speed up the recovery, but then neither of them knew by how much.
She gave him an inhaler and a bottle of emergency medicine, should an attack of this kind happen again.
Steve didn’t wake up until well after the sun had set, presumably because the smell of Bucky’s cooking, which got his attention from beyond sleep-land. He shuffled into the kitchen, blanket around his shoulders, with a weak “Hey.”
Bucky turned only slightly to look at him—he wanted to seem calm, but the relief he felt very nearly overwhelmed him.
“Hiya, sweetheart. How you feeling?”
“Better. Much better,” Steve’s voice was wrecked around the edges, and Bucky smiled to himself. This was the first time Steve had come out the other end of an asthma attack standing within the day. Somewhere at the back of his mind he knew Steve would not have survived an attack this bad when they were young. He quashed the thought and continued stirring the onions.
“Dr. Marren left you some pills and an inhaler. I put them in the bathroom, under the sink,” he chattered. Steve looked unhappy as he moved closer.
“I’m sorry.”
“Huh? What for?”
“Well, I…I’ve been feeling a little off, as of late. And I wasn’t sure how to tell you. I wasn’t even sure whether or not I was imagining it.” Steve rubbed his hand over his neck; a sign that he was remorseful. Bucky wasn’t angry, unlike Steve seemed to have expected.
“A little off? What do you mean by that?”
“I don’t really know, Buck. A little weaker maybe. The other day, for just a second, I couldn’t read my book—couldn’t see the words,” he said as he leaned against the counter. There was a small crack in the terracotta that caught his attention. That hadn’t been there this morning.
“Maybe you’re just getting old, sweetheart. We’re not young anymore, that’s for sure,” Bucky laughed as he pulled one of the sauces he’d made earlier out of the fridge.
“Buck, I think that’s just the point. I think the serum is wearing off.”
Bucky froze. Sauce in hand, he paused mid-step. He turned to look at Steve in full. His eyes were deadly serious and his face was pulled taught with worry.
“You mean it?” Bucky asked quietly. Steve nodded in the affirmative. “How long have you known?” Steve shrugged in a small way, only barely raising and lowering his shoulders.
“A month, maybe. The signs were small, I didn’t think they amounted to much.” He looked away again, breaking eye contact. Bucky felt concern, apprehension, and fear swirl within him for a moment, but looking at Steve now and thinking about the fear in his face earlier when his breath was stolen from him, tranquility stole over Bucky.
“Que sera, sera,” he said, non-sequitur.
“What?” Steve quirked up, a stupid look on his face. Bucky sniggered.
“Que sera, sera, Stevie. We’ll be fine.”
Steve’s face cracked up and he snorted. Bucky poured the sauce into a pot. They would be fine. He believed that.
Bucky woke with a start that same night. He’d been dreaming of a big albino snake squeezing him—a very unusual and relatively light nightmare for him—when he was pulled from sleep by a genuine inability to breathe. He panicked for a second, his systems instantly rewiring to its Soldier circuits, and he was about to put the attacker in a hold when his sense of smell told him that the thing squeezing him was no one else but Steve.
God give me rest, he thought sardonically. Dealing with bad surprises twice in a day was twice more than they’d had to deal with collectively for the past year.
“Steve, wake up,” he whispered gently. Steve’s arms tightened like vices. Bucky tried again. “Stevie, wake up, it’s only a dream.”
“Christ almighty, Buck, it hurts.” Bucky, hand on his heart, almost jumped out of his skin. He’d thought the arm-lock was a result of a nightmare and was momentarily derailed by how taken aback he was. Then he processed what Steve had said.
“What? What does? What hurts?”
“My skin’s on fire—knock me out, Buck. I mean it, just put me to sleep—“ he just managed to finish before letting out a choked scream of pain.
“What the fuck? What the fuck is going on, Steve?”
Steve couldn't answer, grinding his teeth to contain the scream.
“Don’t move. I’ll get you some water.” Bucky had to use his bionic arm to pull off Steve’s arms and fingers, and for the second time today ran to get Steve help. He first got him a large glass of cold water, then called Marren from the bathroom. It rang only for a short while before she picked up.
“Yes, hello, Dr. Marren speaking—“
“How much do you know about the serum?” A pregnant pause unfolded after those words. She sighed over the phone. |
d8fb984d1ba84463b86e35bbd703c79c | ['5d6ac3d4fdba4429952935a307d467b1'] | Prompt 4: Puppet Master
**
Tommy
**
It was pathetic, really, the fact that Tommy would do anything Adam asked of him. He couldn't find it within himself to refuse that innocent smile **,** or smooth voice, that seemed to wrap around his resolve and play him like a puppet with strings. But, Tommy knew that Adam wouldn't ever dream of misusing that power over him if he ever found out.
Tommy wouldn’t have it any other way, though. He loved him and was pretty confident that Adam loved him back.
He smiled softly as he looked at himself in the mirror. Dressing in drag?
Totally worth it.
**
Taylor
**
The first time it happened, Taylor wrote it off as a performance high. The second, coincidence. Now it was just getting creepy and weird. Every time Adam would sing “ _You’re the hunter and I’m your prey_ ”, it felt just the opposite.
Taylor would instantly feel a pull from within controlling his movements and he could do nothing against it. After each show the pull would snap and physically ache for the next hour until it slowly faded away.
It wasn’t until the following week that he realized what was really going on.
Rule number one—don’t crush on your boss.
**
Isaac
**
This was fucking ridiculous.
Yes, it was Halloween and yes it was funny that Monte was playing the usual part of ‘Old Man’ by being Geppetto the puppet maker. But making the shortest of the group, who also happened to be going stag to Adam’s Halloween party, play the part of Pinocchio?
Fucking. Evil.
Isaac sighed and reached for a beer when his right hand was harshly yanked back. “Who’s the puppet master, Isaac?”
“Oh, fuck you, old man. I’m done!” Isaac spat, ripping the ties off of his arms and storming out the door.
He was _never_ listening to Monte ever again. | ad8aaa68522e42519f2bea1fcb4e281b | ['5d6ac3d4fdba4429952935a307d467b1'] | He shifted so his leg dangled over the arm of the chair and slouched down further as he slowly started to yank at his cock. He loved it rough and slow at the beginning, like the first hit off a fresh joint **-** or a shot of whiskey.
Groaning, he slowed down until he was only rubbing the head, letting the boys rough-house to spur him on.
“And who was that little man-whore you were with, Sutan?” Tommy’s hand connected with his cheek, causing his dark skin to turn color.
_“_ Mmmffff, _”_ Adam whined, it was the perfect combination of feisty and hot.
Sutan screamed deafeningly, before linking his legs around Tommy’s waist to throw him to the ground and pounce on top of him. “You little _bitch_ , T.J. He’s not a whore!” Sutan yanked on Tommy’s bangs causing the smaller man to cry out.
“Oh fuck…” Adam groaned out, fisting his cock once more as he felt the pleasure begin to shoot through him. He was fucking close—it had been a while—and could tell it would be like the firework celebration on the fourth of July. He reached down with his other hand to cup his balls, tugging them slightly and that was it. He cried out, smacking his head on the back of the chair, eyes rolling in as his orgasm sang through him.
_Oh fuck_ , _that was amazing._
After a few moments he was able to breathe and focus, finding the boys still wrestling on the floor. _Fuck they’re feisty,_ he thought as he tucked himself back into his jeans. “Boys…”
They ignored him, quite interested in kicking the glitter out of each other. He noticed a bit of red on Tommy’s lip and panicked, cursing as he got up and stalked over to the tangle of limbs and pulled them apart. “Wake up, boys.”
He felt the connection snap and they gasped, blinking owlishly up at him. Tommy was the first to speak. “What the fuck was that, Adam?”
Sutan groaned as he assessed his body. “Bitch, I have a show tomorrow, look at this bruise!”
“You’re a fucking makeup artist, I’m sure you c—“
“Shut up, for a moment,the both of you!” Adam snapped and they blinked in shock. “Are you alright?” He leaned down to examine Tommy’s cut lip, who hissed at the pain.
The blonde looked into his eyes. “I’m fine.”
Adam rolled his eyes, knowing better than to argue and turned to the other man. “Sutan?”
The taller man scoffed. “Yeah, I’ll live.”
Adam shook his head, chuckling and hugged them close. “Maybe we shouldn’t do that ever again, as amazing of a result that was for me.”
“Yeah, what the fuck _was_ that anyway?” Tommy asked.
Adam froze, before smirking devilishly. “A different form of hypnosis.”
“Well, I guess try everything once, right?” giggled Tommy.
Sutan laughed, “Says the straight boy who won’t let me fuck him senseless!”
“Maybe another time, boys.” Adam winked, and they dissolved into a fit of giggles.
_Fin._ |
5ba3b1e9fe324c15933b553ab833cee2 | ['5d6c5eb45efd40188164a3b0f14f5f34'] |
you are not your own
**Author's Note:**
> **OVERLY DETAILED WARNINGS, just in case:**
> extremly brief mention of rape (not magnus, his mother), implied/referenced emotional manipulation and child abuse. also very lowkey implied domestic abuse/emotional manipulation from camille.
> internalized transphobia, lots of descriptions of dypshoria, coming out (it goes well, bc we all know alec is a great bf even if he fucks up sometimes), descriptions of transitioning, mentions of slurs and shit (only one is actually said-tr*nny). most of this isn't really explicit though, it shouldn't be triggering unless you're very sensitive to any of these topics. in which case, no harm done, but tread carefully
>
> also, the timeline's a little whacked: for example, they're past the "i love you" milestone but this directly after 2x12 and i'm pretty sure they got there after that, but like...... oh well
Magnus had been in the wrong body before.
Being thrown screaming back into that feeling had triggered old memories, old hurts.
Agony rune aside (and _god,_ that was a whole new set of traumas to deal with, a whole other can of worms) Magnus had too much of his past rearing up to bite him.
Being in the wrong body.
Skin too tight, too wrong, everything _wrong wrong wrong._ Feeling like plastic, feeling trapped in his own (not his own, _not his)_ skin, everything pressing down on him. Air seemingly too thick to breathe, and his fingers clumsy and not his.
And not just that, but he was _trapped._
Strapped down, unable to escape, helpless—
His magic didn’t come to his fingertips no matter how desperately he called, and all around him people he loved seemed to look down on him with hatred.
It felt like he was young again, desperately trying to hide the body he’d been born in, trying to deal with the flames of dysphoria licking at every inch of his skin.
When he’d been a child, he’d known there was something wrong with him, that he wasn’t quite his mother’s daughter.
And when he’d realized, eventually, it had just been yet another thing in a long line of things wrong with him.
A monster, in more ways than one.
But he’d grown, he’d learned—first covering with baggy clothes and makeshift binders (although they were not called such at the time) and then eventually glamours.
And then his father had taught him bloody, ancient magic. Dark and powerful, ways to bend reality.
But Magnus didn’t want to bend and break people or worlds—instead he reshaped his body, under the careful eye of his father.
He shaped himself to be exactly as he wanted.
Or he tried to.
Asmodeous had always been controlling, and he held all the cards—he had the knowledge Magnus needed to safely do as he so desperately wished.
And he withheld it, rewarding tidbits and trinkets in exchange for Magnus’s obedience.
He took it away when Magnus didn’t do as he pleased.
It had been a dark time in his life.
But Magnus learned.
And when he eventually escaped his father, banished him back to the Hell from whence he came, Magnus knew what to do.
He shaped himself, he made _himself_ the man he wanted to be. He pulled himself out of Hell, as he always had.
It took him decades to figure it out, tweaking it over the years, like magical hormone treatments.
Mundane science hadn’t existed the way it did back then, but he grew creative.
Both with magic, changing his body slowly and making himself the way he wanted to be, and with the way he presented himself—careful brushes of makeup, clothing styled and molded just so to show off his male figure, working out to develop muscles and a more traditionally masculine form.
It was slow going—he was able to pass in public, although he still got those looks (where they narrowed their eyes or tilted their head like they were trying to figure him out, girl or boy or _thing?_ ) and even the occasional slur or insult (he was used to those, by now, from so many different people for so many different reasons, it almost didn’t sting as much anymore) but it was _working._
Combining magicks and spells and potions in carefully scrawled and tested theories, even blending with mundane science as it evolved…
Some of it was ambitious—transfiguring major body parts was harder than one might think. But with help, with research, with _power,_ it worked.
He had setbacks (Camille telling him he was _too girly with all that makeup_ and using his trust in her against him over and over again _,_ another lover leaping back with foul words about how they hadn’t realized he was a _tranny,_ days where it all just came flooding back to him and it _hurt so much)_ but… he kept going. Kept marching on.
He pulled himself out of hell, like he always had.
(He had help, now, Catarina and Ragnor, even others like Raphael and Dot and a werewolf boy in Paris who had always supported him, a Seelie woman who confided in him that she, too, had been born feeling _wrong._ People who, over the years, helped him, and he helped them in return.)
And over time, it got better and better. He felt more and more like what he should be, more and more comfortable in his own skin.
And after so long, _relief._
The last spell, and finally no more glamours or binders that made it hurt to breathe (how many times had Catarina scolded him for binding too tight, how many times had she helped heal his ribs and told him _he couldn’t keep doing this_ ) and he was _himself._
Wholly and completely himself.
And he had a body that was _his._ | 9b5c92f5655d4187af1bac5db26a4415 | ['5d6c5eb45efd40188164a3b0f14f5f34'] | “Hey,” Alec said, soft and firm, catching his attention.
Magnus looked up, eyes full of tears.
“There is _nothing_ ugly about you,” Alec said gently, and he looked so _sincere_ and loving that Magnus’s heart ached.
Magnus looked shocked, like he’d expected disgust and rejection, and Alec couldn’t hold back anymore.
He leaned forward and hugged him, winding his arms around Magnus’s waist and pulling him close. Magnus easily went into it, burying his face in Alec’s shoulder, letting his tears dampen his shirt.
Magnus trembled a little in his arms, wondering if he should shut up now. Not say anything else. Act like this was all it was, that nothing else was haunting him.
But he could feel Alec’s arms tightly wrapped around him, the warm feeling in his chest from just… the love, the _support,_ the honest faith in him…
Alec would support him. Alec wouldn’t hate him.
“Alexander…” he murmured into his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Alexander, that’s not… that’s not all.”
Alec pulled away slightly, his arms still loosely looped around him, but separating them enough they could make eye contact.
“Okay,” he said easily. “You can tell me anything, Magnus.”
“I’m…” Magnus’s voice died in his throat. His mouth felt dry. “The rune, it… it’s creative, Alexander. It’s not just memories, it’s _feelings._ And pain. It—it _hurts,_ you know, it hurts, and then it makes you feel miserable, reminds you of all your lowest points and makes you relive them, it takes the worst feelings in your life and forces them on you over and over and… there was something it _knew.”_
“…Knew?” Alec asked, confused.
“It’s not a secret,” Magnus said. He knew he was rambling a little. “I’m not—I wasn’t lying to you. Or trying to. But I understand if you’re upset.”
“Upset about _what,_ love?” Alec asked softly.
Magnus ignored the little butterflies in his stomach at being called _love._
“I’m trans,” he finally blurted out. Those two words that had ended many relationships, whether it be immediately (throwing themselves away from him, disgusted, or even just flinching slightly and then the _questions_ begin) or slowly (looking at him differently, fetishizing or categorizing and stereotyping).
Alec looked confused.
“Transgender,” Magnus said, looking down, not wanting to see Alec’s confusion turning to disgust.
But now that he’d started, it all came flooding out. “As in I—I was born with a… a _female_ body. I’m a _man,”_ he added fiercely, as if to punctate how serious he was, “But that—it took centuries to… to look like I do, to have what I look like match who I am inside. To feel right, or even to accept myself and find people who also accepted me. But before, when I was very young… and even later, when I barely passed in public… It was _suffocating._ There were good and bad days. On the best days, I could distract myself, pretend like it was fine. On the worst, I wanted to claw my skin off and cut away all the wrong parts.”
He heard Alec inhale sharply.
Magnus didn’t dare look at Alec’s expression.
“The agony rune,” Alec said softly—understanding and sadness in his voice. “It made you… relive that feeling?”
Magnus nodded, still not looking at him. “All the worst parts,” he said. “The—people insisting on calling me by the wrong names, the wrong pronouns. People who left me because of it, or used me for it. People who hurt me and hated me for it. And—”
He choked on the words slightly, but he kept going, finding he was unable to stop.
“— _you,”_ he said. “I was— _am—_ so scared to tell you. Scared you would hate me, would be… disgusted.” His voice broke on the last word. “And then… then I was _in the wrong body._ Again. And you were—you were looking at me like that. And that wasn’t the rune, it was… real.”
Alec looked heartbroken, not that Magnus could see. He was still refusing to look up.
“Magnus,” Alec said in a rather strangled voice. Magnus felt a hand cupping his face. Alec gently tipped his head up so Magnus was looking at him. He leaned forwards and kissed him—gentle, chaste—and then said, “I love you. Nothing could ever change that, especially not this.”
“I know it wasn’t—I know you didn’t know,” Magnus said, voice breaking a little. “But it _felt—_ and… It just made it worse. And the nightmares, it all just comes flooding back. My parents, being _like that…_ you. Others.”
Alec made a noise low in his throat.
Magnus waited for the questions.
Alec hadn’t asked yet, but Magnus knew he would. Everyone did, no matter how well-meaning.
_So you used to be a woman?_
_When did you decide to become a guy?_
_Why did you want to become a guy, anyway? Was it because of the sexism back then?_
_Are you sure you’re a man? What if you want to be a girl again someday?_
_Do you even **count** as a man—considering you weren’t born one?_
_If you’re really a man, why do you like girly things?_
_But you **look** like a man, I couldn’t even tell, how is that possible?_
_Do you ever regret turning? Do you miss the lady parts?_
_Is this why you’re bisexual?_
_Are you confused?_
_Oh, so that’s why you wear makeup and jewelry, right?_
_What did you look like back then? Did you make a hot chick?_
_What was your name?_
_What was it like, having boobs? Did you have sex back then?_
_Wait, so if you’re a woman and you like men, are you straight?_
_Do you still have a you-know-what down there? Wanna have some fun?_
Some of those, obviously, he knew Alec would never ask. Would never even think of saying.
But even the most well-intentioned of his past partners had asked uncomfortable questions. Sometimes out of curiosity, or ignorance, or just a well-meaning desire to make sure they knew the whole situation. |
ed391336063048ef9455eabb33504cd3 | ['5d7ed490b1164559a1d6f6a2694e1ba1'] | Something within him broke, and he went to flee, following after Hermione and he could almost taste freedom-
_ SSSSSSSSS _ , came the sound of the bola whistling through the air, and Cass had only the barest of moments to feel the sinking of his heart, as he was tackled by the conjured rope.
A shriek tore through the dark, and he sobbed in fear, knowing the monster had gotten Hermione as well.
He made a half-hearted attempt to reach for where his wand had fallen a foot away from his outstretched arm, before a steel-toed boot came down hard on it, snapping his lifeline clean in two.
"No!"
Pleiades squatted down to his level and cocked his head.
"Son, I think it's time we had a proper talk about your priorities," he said blithely, ruffling Cass' hair in a way that made him want to scream. Everything about the man kept sending him back to the small child who used to hide in his wardrobe: knowing that no matter how scary his nightmares were, there were nastier monsters living within his very house. "Such as, who is this piece of _ filth _ that keeps sullying our _ darling _ boy?"
The broad man stood up, gripping Cass by the collar as he pulled him up with him.
"Ah, ah, now, Cassiopeia," Pleiades chided, tapping Cass' wrists with his wand. A thin piece of twine slithered round them, pulling them tight enough to stop his blood and to keep him from struggling. "Can't have you resisting when I'm trying to teach you a lesson. Think we'd have beaten that into you last Summer, before you so rudely interrupted our training. Now, dear one, why don't you introduce me to your... _ Friend _ . I'm sure we'll have a lot to talk about."
And with that he leveled his wand- a crude piece of dark, lined wood- at Hermione, and spoke a single word.
" _ Crucio _ ."
" _ Hermione _ ! No, Father, don't! Please stop! Stop it!" Cass cried over the awful sounds of her broken screams. Babbling now, "Father, stop, just stop, I'll go with you, _ just leave her alone _ !"
Pleiades flicked his wand away, releasing his curse, and studied Hermione's limp form, for a moment. His lip curled.
"You know what, Cassie? I don't think I shall. _ Avada ked _ -"
"NO!"
Without thinking, acting purely on instinct and the adrenaline flooding his veins, Cass lifted his bound hands, and, with something that was not quite and yet more than adrenaline, _ pushed _ .
Light erupted from behind the eyes of what used to be his father, and the corpse fell to the ground, dragging Cass with it; bringing him face to face with burnt-out sockets.
Sirius was the one to find them later, drawn to the distress flares sent up by Hermione: Cass was trembling on the ground by his father's corpse, staring into space, with her screaming for help at his side.
His uncle's choked gasp at the sight of his brother finally broke the catatonic state Cass was trapped in, and he looked up- still-shining eyes meeting Sirius' shocked ones.
Another set of footsteps came running up behind the older man, then stuttered to a halt.
"Sirius, Sirius, look! His eyes, they're glowing!" Remus breathed.
This seemed to knock Sirius out of his trance.
"Come on," he said, grabbing Cass by the arm and dragging him upright. "We need to go. Or must I remind you, _ Remus _ , that I am still a wanted criminal?"
"Wait," Hermione's hoarse voice broke through. She was helped to her feet by Remus, who made quick work of the conjured bola. "Hi- His wand," she rasped.
"What about it?" he replied testily.
" _ Sirius _ ," Remus gasped, having picked up the two halves of Cass' wand. "Look!"
He passed a hand over his face in an effort to keep his composure, then turned back to the other man.
"Send a message to the others, I'll take these two back to the Burrow."
"How are we going to explain this?" Remus hissed, stabbing a finger at Pleiades' corpse. Sirius sighed.
"Accidental magic, purely instinctual. The Ministry'll lap it up."
∞
When Cass turned up at Ollivander's a few days later, the wizened man looked at him with a gaze tinged with pity.
"There are few worse things that can happen to a wizard than losing his wand," he said, turning the sign over to ' _ Closed' _ and motioning for Cass to follow him to the back of the shop. "I will make you a new one, but I doubt it will be any less complicated than before."
And he was right.
When the elderly man was finished, Cass picked it up and looked the wand over:
It was less different to his old wand than he expected, with the same pattern of wings and general shape. However, this time, it was sharper, longer; even the feathers had a knife-like edge to them, and the runes had a more intense feel to them.
∞
Returning to school felt different this year: Cass was still on edge from the encounter _ (murder) _ with his father, and every face seemed to be hiding secrets.
He was sitting at the Hufflepuff table during the Welcome Feast, which meant he missed Hermione's realisation of House Elf labour in Hogwarts ( _ although he was informed _ _ in much detail _ _ later _ ). He was, however, present for Dumbledore's announcement of the Triwizard Tournament.
The idea of three trials rang somewhere in the back of the undiscovered part of Cass' mind, but he paid it no heed. | db1b044ea42742fa86d01854d63da8c5 | ['5d7ed490b1164559a1d6f6a2694e1ba1'] | “Cas, it’s Dean,” he said brusquely, wandering away from the gruesome table. “Yeah, Room 31c, Basement Level, St James Medical Cent-”
His words got stuck in his throat as Castiel appeared in front of him, his phone still held up to his ear. The cupid adjusted the lighting subtly, so it would glint off his irises in a manner more pleasing to the human.
“I’m there now,” her brother said unnecessarily.
_Sigh_.
“Yeah, I get that,” Dean replied, pursing his lips slightly, but to her satisfaction, his eyes never left Castiel’s.
“I’m gonna…” he continued, confused and not quite catching on to his match’s sarcasm. “Hang up now?”
“Right.”
A beat later, Castiel wandered over to the table and picked up the heart Dean had replaced, turning it over in his hands. The cupid froze.
_Please don’t feel the mark_ , _please don’t feel it_ , _don’t pay attention to the boost she gave Dean’s arrow_ …
“You’re right, Sam, these are angelic marks,” he confirmed, and her own hearts skipped a beat, before she realised he was talking about the ones Brody made, rather than her own. Dean leaned in, his attention drifting from the bloody organ to the seraph’s fingers. “I imagine you’d find similar marks on the other couples’ hearts as well.”
_Phew_ , _disaster averted_.
“So, what are they?” Sam asked, and the cupid regretted her previous statement. If they discovered too much about the way cupids worked, then Dean could realise there was angelic interference and her whole operation would go up in smoke. It was a good thing outsiders were never told too much about the inner workings of the Cupid Office. “I mean… What do they do?”
“It’s a mark of union,” Castiel sighed, putting the mutilated heart back in the tupperware box. This man and woman were intended to mate.”
_He had to be ignoring the way Dean’s heart skipped at that_. _He had to be_!
“Okay, but who put ‘em there?” the older Winchester demanded, trying to cover up for his mistake.
“Well,” her brother said, leaning into the hunter’s space. “Your people call them cupids.”
“A _what_?”
“What human myth has mistaken for cupids are actually a lower order of angel,” Castiel explained, looking for the life of him like someone was shoving horse manure up his nose. The cupid’s lip curled; _there was no need to be so rude_. “Technically, they’re cherubim, third-class.”
_Yeah_ , she thought, starting to get riled up. _But does anyone else get grace-grants_? _Huh_? _Aren’t we the most creative in the Host_? _What about it_ , soldier?
“Cherubs?” Dean blurted.
“Yeah,” Castiel continued, glaring at nothing in particular. “They’re all over the world, there are dozens of them.”
_We’re not a bloody infestation_! She screamed mentally.
Dean gestured, his face screwing up as he tried to imagine them, and the cupid had a horrible premonition of what was to follow.
“You mean the little, flying, fat kids, in diapers?”
Her brother span around to glare the hunter down, and despite the cupid’s annoyance, she was quite pleased that _someone_ was standing up for the honour of the Cupid Office.
“They’re not incontinent.”
_Thank you_!
“Okay, so what you’re saying is-”
“What I’m saying,” the seraph interrupted, turning on the taller brother. “Is that a cupid has gone rogue, and we have to stop him before he kills again.”
… _What_? _When did that become the plan_?
“Course we do,” Dean nodded, his face turning mock-serious as he looked at Castiel.
His gaze dipped to the angel’s lips.
And up again.
_ARGH_!
*****
While Team Free Will ( _as they were calling themselves these days_ ) went to refuel, the cupid sought out Brody.
She hadn’t actually gotten round to telling him what she needed him to do for her earlier, because the Winchesters had gone to the morgue ahead of schedule, and she’d needed to get there first, so while Brody was open to requests, he had no idea of what she wanted him to do.
And had become sceptic.
“You need me to do what?”
“Look,” the cupid said desperately, holding up her hands to placate him. “Just get close and personal and check the arrowhead, that’s all I ask.”
“But these are the Winchesters!” he whined. “They’re gonna suspect something’s up when I hug ‘em that tight! Especially Dean and his _overcompensating_.”
“They suspect all supernatural beings!” she snapped, feeling a little satisfied when he was cowed. “And Castiel has never even _met_ a cupid before! He’s always been on the battlefields, so of course he won’t know something’s up!”
“So all he knows about are the hug-handshakes,” Brody said, mulling it over. “Alright, I’ll do it. But c’mon Hal-”
“Don’t call me that.”
“O-kay?” he replied sceptically. “These are heavenly weapons; the arrow’s not defective.”
“Then why isn’t it working!” the cupid cried. “My previous assignments have take days at the most; this one has been over a year and they still haven’t kissed!”
“Dude,” the other angel said, attempting to calm her down. “Chill. Everything will work out, _trust me_. It’ll be fine in the end.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, checking their gear.
“You know,” Brody said, as he watched her string her bow with a speculative cast on his face. “You do go a bit OTT sometimes.”
The cupid raised her weapon and examined the string.
“You’re the one who uses a bloody _rifle_ , Brody.”
“Okay, but Castiel’s gonna summon me in a while, might as well blow off some steam. Any suggestions for when he does?”
“Take off your clothes to make them uncomfortable,” she commanded, a smirk starting to play on her lips. “And when they arrive, hug each one for longer than usual. Jiggle. In fact,” she continued, openly grinning now. “Play up each and every stereotype about us. They think we’re just obese children, anyway.” |
1fdad9a6f6fc49da99181c27974f1e1c | ['5da29ccf09d44ca9b003a0ee8588ea1d'] | breathe (ain’t no rest for the wicked)
**Author's Note:**
> i was listening to “ain’t no rest for the wicked” by Cage the Elephant on lunch the other day and the chorus reminded me of Mickey so yeah, here we are.
Mickey woke with a start.
It was too quiet. He could hear the tv or maybe the radio in the background and the occasional rumble of voices. But other than that— silence. The Milkovich house was rarely this quiet.
And he could sleep though anything but the quiet.
Svet was always screaming at him in Russian or the baby was crying. And Ian was off his fucking rocker and he was stuck in this shitty life in this shitty house on the South Side of Chicago.
The hustle was all he knew. He'd been raised in it. The Milkovich kids all knew how to scam and con to varying degrees but Mickey was without a doubt the best.
There was no way out. Terry might be locked up at the moment but he had all but ensured that Mickey would never get to leave this life. And he couldn't fucking breathe here.
He just wanted one goddamn minute to catch his breath. One day where he didn't have to constantly be on his toes. Just one damn day where the whole goddamn world wasn't crashing down on him.
One day where Svet wasn’t on his ass for everything. One day the kid wasn’t squalling. One day where he didn't feel like he had to watch every last move Ian made.
One day where he didn't have to worry about his dumbass brothers or if that asshole was still beating the shit out of his sister. One day where he didn't have to run some kind of con just to put food on the goddamn table.
It was all piling up on top of him and he couldn’t catch a break or catch his breath.
God, he just needed a break. He just needed a chance to breathe before he was dragged under. And he would be. He was running out of fight. He couldn't carry all of this forever and he just needed to BREATHE before he went down and he never got out of here. He'd die here in this shit hole.
He'd said it once before, he was fucked for life and he felt it lately more than he ever has before. And some days he wanted to put a gun to his head and pull the damn trigger because then it would all stop. No more yelling. No more crying baby. No more Ian.
Ian.
That beautiful crazy motherfucker who owned every last piece of Mickey’s heart.
He did all this shit for Ian.
Because who was gonna care about him if Mickey didn't? Who was gonna keep him safe while this illness he refused to admit he had drove him mad? Who else if not Mickey?
Sometimes he thinks he could pull the trigger and take Ian out first and then turn it on himself but Jesus he can't imagine a world without Ian Gallagher in it even if he wouldn't be around to see it so he pulls back on his own particular brand of crazy and he keeps fighting his demons because he's the fucking glue holding this whole fucked up family together.
And he knows more often than not he fails, and he fails spectacularly. But he hasn't lost one of them yet so he keeps going, fighting for air, fighting to breathe, to keep them together, to keep this goddamn sorry ass ought to be condemned roof over their fucking heads.
He's small but he's tough. A born fighter. He's smart and he's quick-witted and he has never given up and never backed down and he's not going to start today.
So he will get out of bed and he will put on his nicest clothes and he will hope like hell that Ian is having a good day. And he'll go run another moving truck scam with his stupid family or whatever else he has to do to keep his kid fed and his nag of a wife off his back.
And he'll find enough air to get through today and tomorrow and the day after that.
He'll keep going because he's a fighter and as he steps out of his room and sees Ian holding Yev and dancing around the kitchen while Svet laughs and cooks breakfast he knows he has a hell of a lot to keep fighting for.
Oh there ain't no rest for the wicked
Money don't grow on trees
I got bills to pay, I got mouths to feed
There ain't nothing in this world for free
Oh no, I can't slow down, I can't hold back
Though you know, I wish I could
Oh no there ain't no rest for the wicked
Until we close our eyes for good | bddd437aabf743e0be84877ce5052765 | ['5da29ccf09d44ca9b003a0ee8588ea1d'] | Damaged Goods
**Author's Note:**
> so I jumped on the endgame/prison bandwagon. kinda.
Ian knows he isn’t exactly a catch. Maybe he was once but he’s burned through every ambition he ever had and he’s pretty much just a shell of who he used to be these days.
He’s still pretty though, even with the jet black hair that makes him look even paler than usual. He knows that and has never been afraid to use it to his advantage. Won't be afraid to use it now if he thinks it'll do him any good.
But that’s all just window dressing.
Scratch the surface and he’s nothing but damaged goods.
His head is all fucked up, his heart hasn't been right since the Mexican border.
He should've ran. Back then. Now. Either or.
He's been practicing his look in the mirror. Hard. Cold. Intimidating. It's a look he knows well, saw often on the face of the man he still loves more than anyone else in this world.
He knows he can't pull it off. Nine months in county jail is one thing. Two years in prison is a whole different ball game.
He tries so hard not to let his family see his fear. They don't need to deal with that shit.
And he doesn't need to give into it. Doesn't need to feed it. Can feel it underneath his skin, just lurking there. Waiting to break free, ready for him to panic. He can't give into that. Not back at the house waiting and wondering where Fiona was. Not now in this crowded truck filled with most of the people who love him either.
Can't let out that hysterical laughter. Choke it back. Hold it together. Shut it all down.
Damaged goods.
That's all he feels like now, saying goodbye, saying I love you. Knowing they'll try at first, his family. They’ll visit. And then they won't. Because that's the Gallagher way. Self involved. It's a character trait, a flaw in their DNA somewhere. They all care more about themselves than each other. He's not absolved from it, has been guilty of the same thing more times than he'd care to admit to.
Intake. He knows how that goes. Strip. Squat. Cough.
It’s a routine meant to humiliate you, make you feel less than human, it mostly does a good job. He’s not sure he could feel any lower than he does right now. It almost makes him long for those days when he didn’t feel anything at all. Almost. But not quite. He knows he has to guard his health more closely in here than he ever has before in his life or he might not survive.
Try to keep that hard look he practiced, through the halls, up the stairs. Ignore the cat calls, the jeers, the glares. Fresh meat. He doesn’t stand a chance.
He thinks he does okay keeping it together until he gets shown into his cell. Thirty-seven minutes down, only about a million and some more to go. Half that if he’s lucky. Good behavior. Overcrowding. Things that could work out in his favor.
He doesn’t even glance around, keeps his eyes and head forward, taking it all in from his peripheral. Four walls. Sink and toilet combo. Two bunks, the bottom one already claimed. Standard issue.
He can feel his eyes start to water as he sits his pile of meager belongings down on the top bunk and listens to the the door slide closed behind him. The mask falls from his face and he lets his head hang down, his shoulders droop. He just needs a minute to pull himself together.
He’s damaged goods and this all just became very real. This tiny ass cell, this ugly ass jumpsuit, this is his life for the foreseeable future and for one brief second he feels like he can’t breathe, he can’t do this. He can’t be here. He’ll lose what’s left of his goddamned mind.
He hears the door open and close again and he closes his eyes, shakes his head, wishes he had just a little bit longer to prepare himself, to get back in the game, but since when did life ever go the way he wanted it to? So he straightens his spine, stands to his full height and turns to face whatever fresh hell life is getting ready to hand him. |
3eabb0e8d5ac4fed82ba34e19512b235 | ['5da7f6ff718746de98aed634d23b79c9'] | “Yes, she’s been a big help with them. Maybe they’ll be able to sense where she is.” Sudina concentrated for a moment, then looked up to see her fire lizards zip through the doorway. They knew to stay out of the kitchen unless invited. She held out her hands; bronze Tooli settled on her right shoulder, and blue Frinzie on her left forearm. They chirped inquiringly at her, and she smiled. “All right, fellows, I have a job for you!” They chittered excitedly, anticipating the treats she always gave them when they performed a task correctly. Sudina knew they were smarter than most of the people in the Hold were aware of. She pictured Sarla in her mind and heard the fire lizards acknowledge the image; they liked Sarla. She gave them treats too. “Find Sarla! Show me where she is!” They chittered at her and went _between._
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sarla immediately felt more sympathetic. She had heard that one of the cotholds had had a lot of people die of fever recently. “It’s all right, Ta – Tabby,” she said comfortingly. “My mother died when I was a baby. My father is still alive, but he’s a dragonrider… he couldn’t take care of me so he sent me here. I don’t see him very much… Oh!”
“What’s wrong?” Tabby said in alarm. “What is it, Sarla?”
“Oh, I can’t believe I forgot… I was supposed to visit my father today! I must be late by now… I’ve got to go!” Sarla jumped to her feet, careful not to spill the glow for a third time.
“Oh! What’s that?” Tabby exclaimed as the two fire lizards flew in through the tunnel. They hovered around Sarla’s head, scolding, then noticed Tabby. Squeaking in surprise, they winked out of sight. “Oh!”
“They’re Sudina’s fire lizards… she must have sent them to find me. I’ve got to go, Tabby – you’d better come with me. You shouldn’t be back here all by yourself. You could get hurt in a rockslide or something…”
“I think I did.”
“What do you mean? Are you hurt?” Sarla raised the glow, trying to get a better look, but the light didn’t seem to help.
“No…” He seemed uncertain. “It was a long time ago.”
“Sarla!” They both jumped as they heard the voice calling down the tunnel.
“That’s my foster mother, Dralina. I need to go now. Come on, Tabby.” She turned to start the crawl back through the narrow tunnel, but couldn’t hear him following. She sighed in exasperation. “Are you coming or not?” She turned back around to glare at him and almost dropped the glow again. There was no one else in the room.
2. Chapter 2
Sarla crawled out of the tunnel to find her foster mother towering over her.
“Sarla! Where have you been? Your father will be here any minute! It would serve you right if he leaves you here for making him wait. You should have been ready by now. What were you doing in there?”
“I was exploring, and I lost track of time!” Sarla said, trying to defend herself. “I’m sorry I’m late. I was talking to the new boy.”
“Come on! You need a bath with all that dust on you.” Dralina paused. “What new boy?”
“He said his name is Tabby. It’s short for something else… he’s only five, and _he_ was out exploring!”
Dralina was still hustling Sarla along, but gave her a strange look. “Sarla, there haven’t been any new children in weeks. I never heard of one named Tabby. Was he at lessons today?”
“No… I never saw him before.” Sarla stumbled, moaning.
“What’s the matter with you?”
“My head hurts…”
Concerned, Dralina bent over to examine Sarla’s head. “Goodness! What did you do?”
“I hit my head on the ceiling of that tunnel. Tabby startled me.”
Dralina pressed her lips together. “Come on. I’ll put some numbweed on that bruise.” They had reached the living area. “You go take the fastest bath in your life while I get the numbweed. I’ve laid out some clean clothes for you. I’ll be back in five minutes.”
Five minutes later, Dralina was applying numbweed while Sarla struggled with the ties on the front of her new dress. “I hope Tabby’s all ri – _ouch!_ all right,” Sarla said. “Oh! There must be another tunnel out through that room. He must have gone out that way.”
“Come on! You don’t keep a dragonrider waiting. Even if he is your father. Sarla, there aren’t any boys named Tabby. What did you say his name is?”
“I think he said it was Tabollo or something like that,” Sarla said, hurrying to keep up.
“Well, there isn’t anyone by that name here in the main hold. Just how hard did you hit your head?”
Sarla flushed. “I was asleep for a few minutes, but I didn’t dream him! He was there!”
“Sarla, no one was there. You’re just making things up because you forgot to get ready in time!”
“No, I – ”
“Quiet!” They had reached the door to the courtyard where M’rel and brown Graith were waiting; Sudina was offering him a mug of klah and laughing at something he had said. Tooli and Frinzie had curled up between Graith’s wings. “Now, mind your manners!” They walked across the courtyard.
“Sarla! There you are! Good day to you, Dralina,” M’rel said, bowing to his daughter’s foster mother.
“Good day, M’rel,” Dralina replied. “I’m so sorry we’ve kept you waiting – Sarla went off exploring in the tunnels again.”
“No harm done! Did you find anything down there?” he asked Sarla.
“No, but I met a new boy – ”
“Sarla, there isn’t a new boy!”
“But he was there! I saw him!”
“No one was there. I’m sorry, M’rel, but I don’t like her making up stories as an excuse for being late!”
“Are you sure she’s making it up?” | be55dde318af4e9d92acfc156bb952a9 | ['5da7f6ff718746de98aed634d23b79c9'] | “But most important,” he continued, “I want you to keep writing songs. Whatever comes into your head. Your songs are some of the best I’ve seen in Turns.” She was shaking her head in disbelief; how could he think her “twiddles” were worth anything? She realized her hands were shaking too. “Yes, they are!” he insisted. “That fire lizard song - the tune fits them so perfectly, and I received it from Elgion just when people were wanting to know more about them!”
“Why, Menolly!” exclaimed Manora, who had been listening to all of this. “You mean to say you’re the one who wrote that lovely song about the fire lizards? Everyone has been singing that one!”
Menolly was still shaking her head in denial. Manora had heard her song? But she’d only jotted down the tune and a few verses… she stared at Elgion, who nodded.
“Of course,” the Masterharper said, “you obviously hadn’t finished writing that one…”
“No, I hadn’t actually…”
“So I did.” He scratched his neck, looking embarrassed. “That song was just what I needed – the tune, the story – so I just – cleaned it up a little. I left the tune as it was, though, and that is what everyone is humming.”
Menolly stared at him. “You really mean it? You – you really like my songs?”
“Yes!” the Masterharper said, almost in frustration. “I know it’s too late now for much formal training, but I just wanted to tell you that if you think of a song, write it down! Even if you don’t think it’s any good, send it to me, please! You have written some very good songs. I need good songs badly.” He sighed. “It may take a while to get you an instrument from the Harper Hall – ”
“Oh no, I couldn’t!”
“But in the meantime, if you need to, I’m sure Oharan will let you borrow his gitar. T’gellan tells me you brought some pipes with you. I will certainly supply you with writing materials – just ask Oharan if you need any.
“Eventually,” the Masterharper went on, “I may be able to prevail upon the Weyrleaders to transfer you to Fort Weyr, close to the Hall. Or,” he said carefully, “if something does happen to Ruath…” She shook her head, denying the possibility. “Whatever happens,” he finished formally, “you will always be welcome at the Harper Hall.”
Menolly took a breath. “Sir – Masterharper,” she said, her voice shaking, “I don’t know what to say. I – I never dreamed you knew my songs. If I – if I write any more, I will send them to you.” She hesitated. “I don’t think I can play gitar, though. My – my hand…” she extended her scarred hand for him to see.
“But you are using that hand, though,” Manora put in. “I daresay, sir, that Master Oldive might be able to do something for it; I wasn’t sure what could be done.”
“We’ll have to ask him,” the Masterharper said firmly. “He attended the Hatching; he should still be here.”
“That can wait,” Manora informed him. “This child is practically fainting from hunger. I’m taking her in to the Feast – you helped make it, after all, Menolly – and you can go looking for Master Oldive while she eats something.”
He laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “My dear Manora, I would not dare disobey you! You two go in and eat; I’ll ask Master Oldive to stop by later. I need to talk to the Weyrleader about something else. I will see you later. Good evening, Menolly, Manora,” he said, bowing formally, and strode off. Elgion bowed as well and followed him.
“All right now,” Manora said briskly, “let’s get going. There should still be plenty of food left if we hurry. Are your feet all right?”
“Yes… I put some more numbweed on them before I left Ruath,” Menolly said, her head still spinning at all that had happened.
“Well, let’s get you something to eat before you fall over, then!” Manora began helping her toward the Dining Cavern.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Jaxom sat at the table next to Felessan, staring across the Hall at the tall girl who was just getting a plate. Felessan had told him what he knew about her: that her name was Menolly, and she had nine fire lizards and had almost outrun Thread and she told good stories. But more than that, she had done what he had not dared to do: she had broken the little egg and impressed a dragon – a white dragon!
When the commotion of Ramoth’s bugling had set the Dining Hall astir, Manora had asked that everyone remain in the Hall. Jaxom had been just coming in – the last one in – and had turned around to see Ramoth at the entrance to the Hatching Ground, and Lessa and the Masterharper and several other people running towards her. He had wanted to go see what was going on, but did not want to anger Lytol further after the pain of the Hatching. He had watched from the entranceway, though, and had seen the girl come out carrying a tiny white dragon. Later, the story had spread through the Hall: her fire lizards had made her go back into the Hatching Ground, and she had felt the egg moving, broken through the shell, and impressed the sport hatchling.
Jaxom sighed. He had come so close to jumping down from the tier and breaking the egg open himself. To have a dragon! He ignored the little voice that reminded him that Lords Holder could not also be dragonriders, trying to imagine what it would have been like. Impossible, of course, with his position; and nothing could have hurt Lytol more. Still, that name – Ruath! So close to Ruatha, his own Hold! It was almost as though he, and not the girl, had been meant to impress the dragon; but it was his duty to be a Lord Holder.
He sighed again and went off to find Lytol. He needed to make his duty to Talina, the new Ruathan Weyrwoman.
Duty was hard.
**Author's Note:**
> Careful readers and obsessed Pern fans will note that the diversion from the original canon starts with one additional line of dialogue from Lytol... |
08fd50ba7cdb416b9cbbc20e8c34b5a8 | ['5db39b77a9dd41699b8cb82503f016c1'] | Each time Sasuke’s tongue brushed against his, Rin let out a content sigh. He couldn’t help it. He had been craving something like this for so long. He needed this and Sousuke didn’t seem to mind.
Against Rin’s wishes, Sousuke pulled back, his gaze falling on Rin’s reddened lips. That smirk from before appeared on his face once more and Rin visibly shivered.
“If you keep moaning like that you’re going to excite me further” His words were teasing but Rin could hear the seriousness in them
“Well, maybe that’s what I want” Rin challenged his words.
He thought for a moment about everything, about this, about exchanging spit with a stranger. An incredibly hot stranger but a stranger nonetheless. When did he ever do things like this? He was so busy with his studies and swim meets that he didn’t give himself time to indulge like this and he craved more.
Rin decided that he didn’t give a fuck. He didn’t care. The only thing he cared about at this particular moment was the stranger, no, Sousuke, kissing him and maybe something more.
Sousuke looked down at the man before him and smiled at what he saw. Rin’s hair was a mess around him but it stood out against his black sheets. And Sousuke let his fingers play with it. Rin’s cheeks were flush and his eyes half lidded.
Rin kissed him again. They couldn't get enough but Sousuke finally had to pull back to get a hold of himself. If it were up to him he'd have Rin against the wall, legs wrapped around his waist as he thrust into him. He was brought out of his thoughts by the redhead.
“I didn’t say stop” came out of the redhead’s mouth and Sousuke sighed.
“You’re so eager. It’s cute.”
“Shut up”
Their lips crashed together in a swift moment of passion and Rin wrapped his legs around Sousuke’s waist, pulling him closer. The raven made a noise of approval and tangled his hands further into Rin’s messy hair.
It was only when their lungs screamed for air that their lips parted. Rin looked up at Sousuke, his eyes so close to shutting. Sousuke ran his thumb over Rin’s lips feeling how soft and slick they were. The redhead slipped the raven’s thumb into his mouth and let his tongue roll over it, sucking on it lightly.
Clearly the other man enjoyed the gesture because Rin suddenly felt the man grind against him lightly.
“Do that again,” It sounded so desperate and so needy but Rin didn’t care because that’s exactly what he was. Sousuke complied and let his hips roll and he rubbed up against the redhead. They both went out of content known and read and dug his fingers into Sousuke’s hair.
“Fuck, Sousuke, why are you so hot.”
It was breathy and dripping with lust and Sousuke let his hips drag down against Rin once more.
“I was going to say the same thing to you.”
They had a bit of a height difference and so Sousuke let himself kiss the top of Rin’s head, taking in the smell as he let his hips grind against the redhead again.
“Fuck, Sousuke.”
“Calling my name already, huh?”
“Shut up.”
Sousuke kissed his forehead and the redhead hummed in response, his fingers rubbing the raven’s shoulders.
“Move your legs”
It came out soft from Sousuke's lips and Rin obeyed, letting his legs fall to the sides of the larger man. Sousuke kissed the side of Rin’s jaw and traveled down to his neck where he let his tongue slide over his Adam’s apple. He suck on the spot until it was a bright red while he listened to the redhead’s sounds.
“Sousuke…”
“We better stop this before I just take you right here, right now.”
“What’s stopping you?”
With that Sousuke’s mouth claimed Rin’s. It was wet and sloppy but neither seemed to mind. Rin began to tug at Sousuke’s shirt getting rougher with each passing second. Sousuke eventually got the hint and broke their kiss. He sat up, letting his weight fall onto Rin.
“You want me to take this off?” The raven gestured towards his tight shirt. Rin nodded, looking up at him with lustful eyes. As Sousuke looked down at Rin he couldn't help but hold his breath. Red messy hair surrounded him head and it flared out against the black of his bed sheets. Like fire, Sousuke thought. The way his mouth was parted slightly as his crimson eyes looked up at Sousuke made the raven's groin throb. The redhead's lips looked so inviting and they glistened in the light of his desk lamp. Sousuke couldn't help but imagine those soft lips around him and it made his pants tighten ever so slightly.
With one swift motion Sousuke gripped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up over his head messing his hair up a bit in the process, and he tossed it to the floor. Rin's eyes scanned over Sousuke's now exposed body and he couldn't help but think that every muscle had been sculpted by the gods themselves. Did Rin believe in such things? At the moment he absolutely did.
Rin let his hands wander along Sousuke's body and let them travel to his delicious looking v that graced the raven's hips. The redhead let his eyes travel south and he couldn't help but notice the growing bulge in Sousuke's pants. Was he already getting this excited? Over Rin? The redhead shook his thoughts away and tried to focus.
"Eyes up, Matsuoka."
Rin blinked and looked up into those teasing blue eyes. The raven held a smirk which only annoyed the redhead.
"Shut up, Yamazaki. I wasn't staring."
"I never said you were."
"Shut up."
It came out as a growl but if Sousuke noticed he didn't seem to mind.
"You say that a lot."
"Just take your pants off already." | eb1f3c787638459ab41afe56cf1721cd | ['5db39b77a9dd41699b8cb82503f016c1'] | "Yeah, isn't that the point?" Rin's eyes watched Sousuke cautiously as he sat upright.
Well, yeah but," he looked at Rin with lustful eyes. "I had other ideas." He motioned for Rin to get off his knees, though he rather enjoyed the sight. "Come here."
Rin obeyed, grateful to be getting up of his tired legs. Sousuke could see the relief on Rin's face and he smirked.
"Let's make you a little more comfortable." Sousuke slipped his fingers in the rim of the redhead's pants and pulled him forward. "First we have to get rid of these." His voice was teasing but Rin knew it's what he really wanted. With one hand Sousuke easily unbuttoned the front of Rin's pants. He dragged the zipper down slowly before using both hands to start tugging the fabric down. Rin bit his lip and began pulling with the raven. His pants falling to his ankles.
"They're down. Are you happy?" It wasn't hostile at all and in fact, Sousuke could hear the excitement in the redhead's voice which prompted him to move closer.
Sousuke ran his fingers along the bulge in Rin's briefs making the redhead bit his lip. Sousuke gently rubbed causing a muffled moan come out of the redhead's parted mouth. He loved the sound. He rubbed a little harder this time and Rin had to place his hands on the raven's shoulders to catch himself. Sousuke's eyes lit up. He wanted more. He looked up to see that Rin's eyes had closed, his red lashes sitting on his flushed cheeks. He's beautiful was all Sousuke could think. He decided he wanted to return the favor and he hooked his fingers on the edge of the red fabric and looked up.
"May I?" The redhead said nothing but he nodded, his eyes still closed. Sousuke pulled down and watched as Rin's cock sprung free of it's cloth prison. The raven admired what he saw and without hesitation he wrapped a hand around the redhead with his thumb rubbing the underside of the head. He raised a questioning brow at the redhead which Rin noticed.
"You're so smooth."
Yeah, what of it? I shave to reduce the resistance in water."
Sousuke's eyes lit up at that.
"Stop staring, Yamazaki." He didn't say it out of annoyance but rather embarrassment.
Sousuke let out a soft laugh and pulled Rin flush against him. He leaned back on the bed until they were falling. Rin let out a surprised yelp as they landed. He glared at the raven, his lip curling.
"You idiot."
Sousuke laughed once more and kissed Rin's cheek.
"So high strung. I'll help you with that."
Rin rolled his eyes at the raven as he finished removing his trousers. As he went to remove Sousuke's jacket the raven's expression changed.
"No, wait, leave it on."
"Why?" Rin tilted his head at the other.
"Leave it on, you look sexy wearing my clothes."
Rin's cheeks felt warm after the comment. He never really thought of himself ever looking that way to someone and the words wrapped around him. His heart beat fast and he wanted Sousuke now more than ever. He leaned down and kissed the raven softly before sitting back up, straddling the man.
"So, are we really doing this?" His question sounded more like a demand but Sousuke didn't seem to mind.
"Only if you're ready."
Rin took a deep breath and leaned down to whisper into Sousuke's ear.
"I'm ready."
In one motion Sousuke wrapped his arms around the redhead and rolled to switch their positions so that he was now towering over Rin. Rin's faced was a misture of surprise and annoyance. Sousuke smiled.
"You could have warned me, y'know? You just like being in control, don't you?" It was more snappy than he wanted but the annoyance he felt made him feel justified. Sousuke shrugged.
"You're cute when you're mad."
Before Rin could say anything more Sousuke spit in his hand and had wrapped it hand around Rin's softening cock and began to stroke. Rin's words left him and he tilted his head back as much as he could. The sensations took over and he felt like he couldn't speak if he tried. Sousuke's hand felt good around him and he tried to arch himself up into the touch but Sousuke used his free hand to pin him down.
Rin bit his lip, drawing blood every time he felt a moan growing in the back of his throat. Sousuke's warm hand pumping him drove him wild and he tried his best to suppress his sounds for fear of being too loud. Sousuke stopped and watched as the redhead looked up at him in confusion.
"I want to hear you." Was all Sousuke said before he continued. Rin nodded and freed his bottom lip from his sharp teeth. He let out a moan as he could feel himself getting close already.
"Sousuke I'm gonna," but at the words Sousuke stopped immediately, robbing Rin of his climax. The redhead whined but was silenced by a chaste kiss from the raven.
"Can I take things further?"
Rin nodded. That was all Sousuke needed. He rolled his shoulders before positioning himself and suddenly Rin's eyes widened.
"Wait, um...look in the drawer of my nightstand. Second drawer down."
Sousuke hummed in response and pulled himself away from Rin. He opened the drawer and let out an approving sound before picking up the small bottle of lube. He glanced back at Rin and smiled sheepishly.
"Guess we kind of need this."
Rin rolled his eyes. "You think?" It was sarcastic but not out of malice.
"Good call, Matsuoka." Rin frowned.
"I told you to call me by my first name."
Sousuke smiled. "Oh, don't worry. I will."
Before Rin could question his words Sousuke was between his legs and was gripping his thighs.
"You sure you're ready for this?" He was teasing Rin now.
"Just hurry up already." |
f5157ba3063f4d84a47e62026fea9ebd | ['5dda8ed250b44ad7a01c6c4ec294849e'] | when you say nothing at all
**Author's Note:**
> I basically just rewrote the garden scene from Notting Hill. Most of the dialogue is the original dialogue from the movie.
Hannibal and Will said their goodbyes to Will's friends and stepped outside. As they started walking away excited shouting could be heard from behind the door. Hannibal raised an eyebrow with a grin. Will shook his head.
"They always do that when I leave."
"Why is Alana in a wheelchair?" Hannibal asked after allowing a few moments of silence.
"She was in a car accident about eighteen months ago."
"Is her inability to conceive related to this accident?"
"I'm not sure. I don't think she and Margot really tried to have children before, as fate would have it."
"Sometimes fate takes us further from what we desire, and sometimes it places us exactly where we need to be." Hannibal mused.
Will glanced at him with a smile.
"Do you want to, uh... My house is just..." he trailed off, glancing away from Hannibal.
"I'm afraid not. But perhaps you could join me for dinner tomorrow?"
"I though you were leaving?"
"My plan has changed."
They kept walking. The row of pastel houses pressed close together gave way to houses with gardens, distant from each other, with high fences that turned them into their own separate worlds.
Hannibal was looking through the weave of iron bars and leaves, trying to catch a glimpse of what was inside.
"All the streets round here have these mysterious communal gardens in the middle of them. They're like little villages." Will explained.
Hannibal stopped in front of a gate framed with foliage.
"Let's go in."
"Ah, no, you see, they're _private_ villages. Only the people who live around them are allowed inside."
"Do you always abide by the rules?" Hannibal asked with a small smile, tilting his head.
Will huffed out a laugh.
"No, not me, other people do. I do what I want."
Hannibal was looking at him expectantly so Will grabbed the iron bars and hoisted himself up but he lost his balance and instead of easily going over the fence he slid gracelessly back down. He ran a hand through his hair.
"Well, you see, it's difficult..."
"May I?" Hannibal asked politely.
Will stepped aside wondering how Hannibal was going to make it over the fence with his tight dress slacks but with just a few quick and graceful movements he was inside the garden.
"Huh... It's not that hard, it's easy actually."
Hannibal was already disappearing in the darkness so Will tried the climb again, eager to catch up to him. He managed to get to the top of the fence without incident but nearly twisted his ankle when he landed on the other side.
Still huffing from the exertion he reached Hannibal who was standing still and looking at the expanse of green hidden from the outside world.
"Now, what in this garden could make all this worthwhile?"
Hannibal turned to him. He had a serene expression on his face and his eyes were shining in the light of the garden's lamps.
Will felt his breathing slow down and drifted closer to him, as if pulled by a string. He stopped in front of him, close enough to touch. Hannibal slowly raised his left hand and ran it through Will's hair, caressing his ear. Will leaned forward and closed the short distance between them. He softly brushed his lips against Hannibal's. Hannibal kissed him back just as softly and pulled away. With a smile he turned and continued walking.
Hannibal made his way further into the garden, Will following him. The full moon above them and the light coming from the houses surrounding them lit their path. Hannibal stopped in front of a plain looking wooden bench. Will came up to him and noticed there was an inscription engraved in the wood.
_For June, who loved this garden - from Joseph who always sat beside her. June Wetherby, 1917- 1992_
Hannibal brushed his fingers across the wood.
"The mark of a lifetime spent together."
He sat down. His gaze followed the path they'd made through the trees before settling on Will. There was a shine to his eyes again. Will sat next to him. The stillness of the night enveloped them.
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you for reading! | 0133ae50c6a440b789b7cf7dca66a482 | ['5dda8ed250b44ad7a01c6c4ec294849e'] | Snow Angels
She was sinking. The snow had enveloped her body and she was falling deeper and deeper.
She couldn't move or scream. She could only watch helplessly the cold white shroud wrapping itself around her. She could see the Dragon standing above her with a snarl on his scarred face until the snow slowly covered her eyes and all she could see was white.
Her eyes opened. Her heart was beating far too quickly. She took a deep breath and tried to slow down her heartbeat. She wasn't lying in a bank of snow, she was in a hotel bed. There wasn't any snow covering her eyes, she could clearly see the faint morning light coming in through the half closed curtains.
Memories of comforting Will after he woke up gasping from his own nightmares came to her uninvited. She wiped away her tears angrily. She didn't want to think about him all the time. Once again she felt endlessly grateful that her cousin was staying in the house she used to share with Will and taking care of the dogs. She couldn't stand the thought of returning to that place.
She knew she wasn't going to go back to sleep so she slipped out of bed quietly. She could do with a walk. She pulled on her jeans and boots, pulled up her hair and went into the living room area. She peeked into Wally's bedroom through the half open door. He was still asleep. She was glad at least her nightmares weren't loud, he didn't need to get even more upset than he already was.
She quickly scribbled a note for him telling him she went out for coffee so he wouldn't worry if he woke up and she wasn't there. She slowly wrapped her shearling coat around herself, her arm still moved with painful difficulty. Taking her phone and the keys to the room she quietly got out.
The cold early morning air almost took her back to the dream but she needed to take a walk. Lying in bed wasn't going to help her, she needed to move. Staying still in bed would feel like sinking into the snow. This early in the morning there weren't many people around which made her a bit calmer, she didn't need to look over her shoulder to see if there was someone right behind her.
Snow wasn't always a part of her nightmares. She used to love it as a child, winter was her favourite season. One of the things she loved most was making snow angels with her mom. They would lie in the deep snow in their front yard and create shapes in it until their clothes were soaked through. She would laugh and delight in the pretty figures they made. When they were done with the angels they would go back into the house where her dad would be waiting for them with mugs of hot chocolate and warm hugs.
She wrapped her coat tighter around herself. The memory made her crave hot chocolate so she looked for a grocery store. She wouldn't want to live in a city, it was too loud and crowded but she did appreciate the convenience of 24/7 stores. She found a small supermarket and went inside. There were only a few people there at this hour and she wandered around the empty isles. She got what she needed, a carton of milk and a can of hot chocolate mix, and went to pay for her picks.
There was no line at the register but just as she was paying a tall man appeared right behind her and she couldn't help a flinch. She paid quickly and hurried out of the store, deciding that she had spent enough time outside. The streets were still fairly empty and she relaxed a little, the tension in her back slightly loosening up.
When she returned to the hotel room Wally was already up and flicking through the channels on the television. He jumped to greet her and she hugged him tightly. He followed her to the small kitchen area where she got the groceries out of their plastic bag. She poured milk in two mugs and put them in the microwave. The cocoa she stirred into the warm milk disturbed the white surface and created a dark whirlpool that soon calmed into sweetness. Before she could get her mug and give Wally his own he hugged her again. She held him tight and kissed his forehead, already feeling warmer.
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you for reading! |
631988b0f50c4436b6592cdc14e0dd2b | ['5e0c41ad10c94c3782d88ef266c91773'] |
Loophole
**Author's Note:**
> I have no idea how this fic happened but since I actually came around finishing it I might as well just post it huh. I'm at that stage of writing when I just try out many things to see what fits so please bear with me.
>
> Also I love playing with twisting clichés and this whole concept of fiction vs. reality. It's fun.
The setting sun painted the sky in a bleeding hue; the heat choked out all life from the streets. These hot Sunday afternoons only led to trouble in this city anyways, it was best if one stayed at home.
And Hidan was out again – dealing with his usual business, if not lying in a ditch somewhere in the nearby slums already. Yesterday he was doing nothing but lying on the couch with a terrible hangover, opening his mouth only to throw up and snarl at Kakuzu for mocking him and now he's probably picking fights again with his indebted ''customers''.
Kakuzu was done with all the work he had to do; he was lying on his sofa, a book in his hand. He read that one more out of a habit now, picking it up every now and then when he had nothing else to read: a science-fiction novel with bland dialogues but deep psychological twists. A tough one, but after a couple of readings everything becomes connected; afterwards the predictability is comforting.
The climax of the story was near – _the protagonist finds out that his entire life is part of a computer simulation and as an act of rebellion breaks the code and turns his entire world into an endless, dark void with no way out_ -He turned the page, accidentally tearing the paper doing so.
His head started aching again.
He could hear rushed, loud footsteps on the corridor, then the rattling of keys. A sharp noise, the sound of keys hitting the ground and the annoyed swearing accompanying it. Must be Hidan. A pause. He heard from the way the keys slammed clumsily against the lock that his hand was shaking.
"Those motherfuckers, can you believe it?'" That seemed to be Hidan's idea of greeting.
"Got into a fight again?'" Kakuzu asked, not even looking up from his book. Hidan slammed the door.
"Take a wild guess. That long-haired bitch with his ugly friends. And they started it, before you'd ask."
'"That's hard to believe." Kakuzu shut his book to take a look at the man. His right arm was draped in what must have been Hidan's once white shirt.
"Instead of being a dick you could do something with my arm. Unless you want me to bleed all over the living room."
"One of these days you are going to lose your damn head. Not gonna patch that one up though." He stood up and walked to Hidan before he would have the chance to advance any further and really bleed on his carpet. "Let me see."
The wound wasn't deep, barely even bleeding anymore; living with Hidan, this thing was a weekly experience anyway. That idiot just couldn't resist an opportunity to fight – and if there was none, he created it. Hidan was lucky that he had actual medical experience.
He walked to the bathroom, followed by Hidan. Kakuzu rummaged through the shelves for everything he needed while Hidan sat down at the edge of the bathtub, rambling about the fight with that kid. Kakuzu then kneeled down by his side and started cleaning the wound.
"You keep doing this and you'll be on the run again." Kakuzu said after a while, his calm voice contrasted by his tense shoulders. Hidan hissed. "Or worse."
"I'm used to that.” He replied. „But hey, don't tell me you suddenly started worrying about me."
"More worried about one of your many haters kicking in my door." Kakuzu finished with treating his arm and picked up the needle. "But of course I do. Someone needs to pay half of the rent."
"I thought I was paying in nature." Hidan grinned.
"That ''payment'' couldn't even cover the air you're breathing." Kakuzu returned the grin then going back to concentrating on getting the thread through the needle's eye. He started stitching the wound, the silence only broken by Hidan's hissing.
"Didn't you have a scar on your shoulder?" Asked Kakuzu after a few minutes, staring at his arm in confusion.
"Don't think so. I have many, but I don't remember that." The lights flickered as Hidan spoke. "What, getting senile, old fart?"
"Do you want to pick a fight with me right now? I'm the one with the needle." Kakuzu looked up at him again. He could have sworn that he had a few weeks old wound on his right shoulder; he was sure he saw that scar on him yesterday. Whatever. He decided to drop the thought.
"Oh no, what are you gonna do, prick me?" Hidan continued taunting him.
"No but I can leave you here with a half-stitched wound. Now shut up, stop twitching and let me finish this."
The remaining time was spent in silence. Kakuzu finished soon and he didn't miss his chance to scold Hidan for his recklessness once more. At least he still had some medicine at hand. If Kakuzu cared more about the people of this city, he could've made a nice living as a doctor; too bad he didn't plan on changing his job any time in the future.
The rest of the day went on with Hidan resting by his side on the sofa, fatigue replacing adrenaline; Kakuzu kept on reading while some dumb sitcom buzzed in the TV. | b1abd9126eb44a6eaf417f3a032fd10c | ['5e0c41ad10c94c3782d88ef266c91773'] | old associates
**Author's Note:**
> back at it again my guys
the wind blows and you shudder
the streets are cold and empty
you look up and you wonder
if this was your plan all along
the church door is open
you don't remember how you got here
it's been so long, so damn long
you didn't think you'd return
but why not, you sigh and step in;
after all, nothing could be better
than the place that’s built
to make you feel guilty
it’s empty and cold now
the smell of mundane guilt yet lingers
and your fingers swipe off the dust
of the ones alive and well
marble and glass saints
with halos of blood and gold
they stare at you, old associates
nothing less and nothing more
you don’t care about them
not their stories, not their fate
not their judgement either
not their the bullet-shaped tears
you don’t care that you forgot;
forgot how to pray and now
you don’t remember anything
only the mourning parent and the dead son
not that you would have a purpose
or anything to pray for
anything or anyone, you sigh,
and you won't pray for yourself
the place smells of a childhood
past innocence and peace
it is annoying now, nothing more
nothing less either, nothing
you are too tired to think about a god;
to think about a benevolent one -
you have learned that thinking about it
doesn't mean that it will exist
so you just stand there
looking at the glass and marble hypocrites
who won't look at you anymore;
they only see the Devil in your shadow
**Author's Note:**
> i'm towards the end of s2 of Daredevil and boy would I willingly die for Frank Castle |
be02ea3ebbe2411aa6bb70469d39a840 | ['5e174c5c77d145f187135efb26ef9263'] | Wait, who the Hell is Ghoul?
Kobra was dizzy, all of a sudden, like - like he had a sense of who he was when he woke up, but - it was fading, fading, fading, and he was confused where he was, still, but he didn’t know why. He didn’t know where he was supposed to be and he was having trouble remembering the names he had been so desperately searching for when he opened his eyes.
It was much too cold, though, and the heart monitor next to him was steadily beeping, no longer racing.
Kobra’s voice was hoarse when he called out; to the people who were rushing around outside of the glass separating Kobra’s room and them. The door was cracked open, though, which was why he called out - “Hello? Where, uh, where am I?”
He was answered in a minute, by a smiling - almost unnervingly - man with a bald head and what looked like a poor sleep schedule at best. Kobra didn’t like him, not at all. “You’re in the Tower.”
“...Why am I in _ the Tower?” _Kobra had no idea what the Tower was, but it sounded imposing and important, and that was usually a sign of him being ignorant about something obvious or important.
The man smiled once again, just as unnerving. “You were hurt in your last mission. Are you alright?”
“I don’t… have any idea who you are.” Kobra smiled half-heartedly, sitting up on the cot and frowning internally at the way the uncomfortable sheets crunched. “Who are you? What do you mean by mission?”
“We were afraid of this…” The man didn’t sound very sorry. Kobra _ still _didn’t like him. “Your accident may have caused some amnesia. I’m Korse, your training supervisor. You were in an accident down in the Lobby with a few rebels who ambushed your squadron.”
Squadron…?
“I’m - I don’t… Know what you’re talking about.”
He thought he was remembering something, but it was vague and fuzzy around the corners like there was something in his head screaming to get out, but it was locked in a padded, soundproof room.
“You don’t?” Clearly, Korse dude. Clearly. “It may be worse than we thought. What do _ you _remember?”
What did Kobra remember? He didn’t… know. It was hard to think. It was - he felt caged, trapped, but there was nothing trapping him, and he wasn’t caged, and it was all so very confusing that he wanted to take another nap. “I’m… my name is the Kobra Kid, I’m… I… fight… rebels. And… And I’m seventeen.”
“That’s a start.”
Kobra wished it wasn’t, but he couldn’t place why, and he couldn’t think clearly enough to wonder why he was in so much discomfort. Save for the ache in his neck, what the hell was that?
“Where do I go from here, then?” That was the question - always ask for what’s in the future, right? Then Kobra could know how to not fuck it up.
Kobra had no idea what he fucking up by knowing he was _ the Kobra Kid, _albeit by name alone.
Then again, Kobra didn’t know anything more than he was in a hospital room, he was an agent of some sort, he was injured, and he had a bad case of amnesia.
All normal things, he supposed. Bad things happened when you made the wrong decisions or didn’t anticipate your enemies well enough.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> If you look up the definition of "forgetful" you'll find a picture of me sitting down to write this, an image description, and nothing more <3 anyway, here it is! What you think ?
19. We'll Let The Fires Just Bathe Us
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The Kobra Kid didn't quite know how being in the Crow Program worked, not yet.
>
> Fun Ghoul knows that he needs information, and that he can blow shit up, and that's all he needs to know. Right?
## ** _[ THREE MONTHS LATER ] _ **
Killjoys were renowned for their reckless improvisation and neon. Tumbleweeds were known for their blisteringly bright personalities and rollerskates.
And Juvee Halls? Juvee Halls were known for the way things got around by word of mouth; less known for their sleuthing skills and more for the way everyone knew everything, especially if it was supposed to be a secret.
Kobra couldn’t say that he got along with Juvee Halls; they were loud, they were _ illegal, _ and they didn’t know what was good for them. But on that same note, he couldn’t say he hated them, either, because if there was anyone that knew how to spot a lie from a mile away, it was a Juvee Hall.
That’s something that made them valuable; in the case of trying to finish up a cut-and-dry case of _ who stole the supplies, _ a Juvee Hall with a bribe on your side was important.
While he knew they weren’t reliable when it counted and their worldviews differed, Kobra didn’t mind standing next to the greasy, short Juvee Hall, of which was staring at him with an upraised brow.
“And what do you need my help with?”
The casual tone was going to get on Kobra’s nerves quickly - he was a _ S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W officer, _ tasked with taking out the same people this Juvee loved, and he was being _ casual? _
“The carbons should’a paid for that information already.”
The Juvee shrugged half-heartedly, glancing up toward the roof of the apartment buildings next to the pair; a dreary alley was always a good place of business if it was supposed to stay off the books, out of sight of the cameras and yet approved by his superiors. “Maybe it did, maybe it didn’t. I didn’t get a clear-cut of my… insurance, I ‘pose.”
Great, that was irritating as hell. “You want insurance? For what, that we’re not gonna ghost you?” | 98c9d898ee4a48b8abd14214f987b2f2 | ['5e174c5c77d145f187135efb26ef9263'] | The diner, in the blinding light of midday, somehow still managed to give off that feeling Sandman had when he had first gotten here; it felt like it was a place for lost souls, for dying pleas, for festering rebellions, for stories to start and stories to end. He could see the dust particles in the air, and looking around at the empty booths and torn bar stools, he saw something.
The shadows in the day were much sharper than when he was here at dusk; the brightest light, of course, cast the blackest shadows, but somehow this seemed very important when Sandman thought of it. It was important. Somehow. It had something to do with the feeling this diner gave; the harder you fight the harder you fall, like the shadows at noon, and yet if you don't fight hard enough, the fall out isn't even worth the rewards because they're dim, barely dark; the shadows at dusk.
Jeez, the Zones were driving him crazy.
He wandered around longer, with no sign of the Kobra Kid or Jet Star, until he came across what he assumed was the door to the garage - it wasn't really a garage, but more of a flimsy roof and a concrete wall -, and found that there was both a Jet Star and a Kobra Kid there.
Kobra was crouching next to his prized motorbike, seemingly inspecting the paint or engine or something equally as mechanic-y, and Jet Star was sitting on a stool that seemed it had had better days, inspecting what seemed to be a glove with a lot of stuff covering it.
Neither of them looked up when Sandman entered, but they seemed to be absorbed in what they were doing so Sandman didn't take it personally.
"So what's a crash queen?" The silence was beginning to irritate him; he couldn't help but break it.
Kobra looked like he was shocked out of his task, staring at Sandman with a look akin to a startled animal - Jet Star, on the other hand, looked up and out of the impressive 'fro he had going on, giving Sandman an almost-curious look.
"You don't know what a crash queen is?" Jet Star asked, eventually, after Sandman was starting to get uncomfortable with, again, silence.
Sandman nodded 'no' - he honestly didn't know what it meant, and he' been called one a multitude of times in the last two days, and now dead silence prompted him to know if he'd been insulted or not.
Jet Star started to explain, but Kobra cut him off before he could even get a syllable out. "Crash Queens are used in one of two ways - the first way, is when killjoys just seem born to fail. They never win, they crash, and they're the best at it. And the other one is the one you are - arrogant, cocky, a flirt, got a reputation."
"I'm not cocky," Sandman said immediately, defensively crossing his arms across his chest as he went to go stand next to Kobra. "And I'm not a flirt."
"Yeah?" Jet Star mused, "'Cause your reputation says otherwise. Weren't you with Dr. Benzedrine?"
"I thought Benzedrine had something going on with Rose Gold." How did Kobra manage to talk fast enough to where Sandman could barely manage to comprehend what was said let alone try to figure out a response to it?
"Benzedrine and I were never and will never be together!" Sandman snapped before Jet could continue the conversation even further. And what he said was true - they would never be. He wasn't Benze's sloppy seconds. He hadn't been in his right mind and Benze had been going insane from grief and...they just weren't, no matter what the past said . "And he did. Have a thing for Rose Gold, I mean."
Jet gave a small "oh" and shrugged; Kobra didn't give much of a reaction at all and went back to inspecting his bike.
So much for conversation. He was going to go insane if this was how the next two months went by, and that was almost a guarantee. Maybe Party was more talkative than Kobra. But then again, Party Poison wasn't exactly his favorite person right now. Ugh. When was anything exciting going to happen? He allows heard stories of the amazing and unbelievable and crazy things that happened in the desert and this was just...boring. Boring and it let him sink alone into his thoghts, and he didn't like that - he'd already made theories about basic science - shadows!
Dear Destroya, he hated the Zones.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thoughts? Always appreciated!
4. Of Blankets and History
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Sandman just wanted to return the blankets, okay?
>
> But now he's in Zone Two with his childhood best friend and a ghost on his shoulders. What the Hell?
One thing Sandman missed about the Underground: consistency. At least there he had somewhat of a schedule, a daily routine. But here, out in the Desert? He never knew what he was going to do at any given point in time, and he hated that, too.
It'd been a week since the conversation with Benze; some days he spet his time in his makeshift room and didn't speak a word to any soul, some days he was in everyone's business wanting somethig to do, and about two days ago he'd gone out to Zone Six with Kobra if only for a chane in scenery, and then proceeded to get shot at.
At least now he knew Kobra was an excellent shot (though he muttered to himself a lot in a fight). But, you know, he would've loved to figure that out when he wasn't getting shot at and Kobra wasn't supposed to be driving his beautiful death trap. |
af12c136fd9e4f3b9996f7c0b59967a2 | ['5e1a3aa5bbc34dbd96c65a22037b2f50'] | Although if you asked the lazy experiment, it wasn't "tailing". The more appropriate word that he would use to describe himself following Jumba's runaway vehicle would be "strolling".
* * *
**Author's Note:**
Anyone who had ever worked before in any sector of the service industry should probably be able to relate to that checkout lady. Do not fret, for my sympathy is with you.
Next time — the long awaited meeting between Lilo and Stitch. I've teased it for long enough already!
11. First Contact
**Chapter 11: First Contact**
Pleakley could say that he had regrets over way too many things in his life.
Perhaps his first ever regret was that his first name was Wendy. Every time he took out and flashed his identification pass, his eye would always manage to catch his full name, the same name that had been written on his birth certificate, under the section labelled 'Full Name'.
Full Name: Wendy Pleakley.
It always made him angry whenever he saw the four words printed on his ID card. He absolutely hated that name. Wendy Pleakley.
WENDY Pleakley.
Actually, "hated" was way too mild a word to describe how much he disliked the name Wendy. The more accurate term to Pleakley would be "vehemently despised with every fiber of his being".
The fact that he was named Wendy wasn't even his fault in the first place. His own parents had been the one who had chosen that name for him. Regardless, it had always been a sore point between him and his family. Honestly, why did he have to be named Wendy? He would rather let his brother have that name and take a different, much better one.
Another one of his big regrets was a botch up that he had made for his final exams when he was studying at G.A.C.C., the Galactic Alliance Community College. The night before his final paper, he had burnt the midnight oil trying to cram as much knowledge as possible into his brain at the last minute.
That idea, which had seemed so good at the time to the studious student, backfired spectacularly when he ended up oversleeping for his final paper, which debarred him from the examinations and ultimately cost him his dream job — a secured internship for a teaching job at G.A.C.C.'s Earth Studies division.
With his less than stellar results thanks to the debarment of his last paper, he had been forced to take a compromise instead, and he had ended up getting hired as a Federation Agent specialising in Earth Studies. However, the job scope as a Federation Agent was much worse than it had sounded on paper.
The interviewers had lied. Instead of practical Earth experiences, he had wound up confined to a lousy desk job on Planet Turo for ages. When he questioned his superiors, the answers he was tossed back was "a lack of funds" before his request was shot down.
To make matters worse, the working hours were absolutely terrible, to the point where he ended up never having a chance to visit Earth before now. Yep, for all the hoo-ha about being a proclaimed "Earth expert", this was his first time on the planet itself.
That said, he wouldn't be here on Earth right now if he hadn't let himself get suckered by that rascal, Experiment 625. Oh boy, was that one a doozy. Another regret for Pleakley to add to his long list of regrets.
He couldn't believe that he had let the sneaky illegal genetic experiment trick him into letting the Grand Councilwoman assign him as 625's caretaker on a very dangerous covert mission, and later let 625 blackmail him further into being the one that had to directly chase after Jumba.
Let the espionage spies do that job instead! Why did he have to be the one to get involved in such a dangerous, life-threatening affair?!
Honestly, Pleakley realised that it was all because of the intergalactic pepperoni press. The Grand Councilwoman had said as much. Had the Federation not have the need to cover the mission up from the press, then Captain Gantu and his ridiculously large fleet of ships would be chasing after the scientist instead, and he would be at his desk on Planet Turo instead of being seated next to a crazy scientist.
Oh yeah, being seated next to a crazy scientist. None of any of those previous regrets even came close to his current new biggest regret — getting into this car and trying to take control of the wheel from Jumba.
That very nutty, no, more like half-crazed Jumba. Might as well add "uncaring for their own safety" onto the scientist's wanted poster as well.
Jumba seemed determined to flout every traffic law in intergalactic travel to catch up to something. What that something was, Pleakley had no clue, but it was probably important.
_Important enough to drive at really dangerous speeds_ , Pleakley thought. The sheer speed at which Jumba drove and swerved was starting to make him dizzy and lightheaded. Did Jumba not get motion sickness or something? Because right now, Pleakley was already tempted to barf.
Suddenly, he saw Jumba smirk in triumph. Following Jumba's line of vision, he caught a glimpse of something blue. Before he could comprehend anything, he heard Jumba holler out loud. "You stop right now, six-two-six! Stop!"
"What are you, nuts?" Pleakley hissed in a low whisper. "Darn it, humans can hear you!"
Jumba played off Pleakley's concern, instead gave a hard stare to intimidate the alien seated on his right. "And you! Let go of the wheel, Pleakley!"
"No! Not until you follow the speed limit!" Pleakley yelled in defiance, trying not to let the fear on his face show. His nightmare was slowly becoming a reality. Jumba had already tested his patience, but this was ridiculous. | d08ac51b1a9d427db4c0d0d4d06b887f | ['5e1a3aa5bbc34dbd96c65a22037b2f50'] | Anyway, fun fact: I actually had to rewrite a good portion of the Dyna Blade and Kracko lightning strike scene when it struck me that Kirby actually would not suffer as heavy a hit from the lightning strike as I originally thought. Why? Because Dyna Blade's a _metallic_ bird. Since Dyna Blade's body counts as a metal surface, the electrons will take the path of least resistance, thus resulting in it passing harmlessly by Kirby since his body offers more resistance than the metal surface so long as his feet isn't touching the ground — basically the same reason that birds on high-voltage wires aren't shocked. At least, I hope that I got the physics of it right.
There's more lore with the now-defunct Galaxy Soldier Army in this chapter, and a much needed talking-to with the animeverse's Meta Knight. Though much of the Nightmare lore has already been covered in Chapter 7, there is new information… and this is the first time their gameverse counterparts hear of it, so there is that. Plus, this conversation is canon to the anime anyway, even if the circumstances of it do differ.
With the arrival of Kracko on the scene, some cutbacks to Dedede and the gang, as well as another much-needed update on the Jambastion Cult, things are finally coming to a head. The next chapter will be the finale of the Dyna Blade arc, so look forward to its conclusion!
12. Great Circle of Life
A/N: Um, HAL? Thanks for dropping the _Star Allies_ update right as I was about to release this. That massive Wave 3 update doesn't mess with my plans at all (insert massive sarcasm here).
…I mean, it even looks like they revealed the whole "another dimension" thing with regards to Void Termina in a tweet. You know, the idea that I'd started penning down five months prior simply because the headcanon sounded awesome in my head — that's the very fic which you're reading right now.
Guess great minds think alike. Even canon knows that it's cool.
I'm calling it — someone's gonna call this fic's entire concept a ripoff now. Ah, whatever. Ideas are cheap. It'll probably throw off some foreshadowing that I've made earlier in the story, but we'll just have to see where this revelation and its resulting lore takes us. I doubt my original storyline will deviate too much, but we'll see…
* * *
**Chapter 12: Great Circle of Life**
_My Adventure Log, Entry #6: Lightning Rod_
_Today's weather forecast is heavy storms, with a sprinkle of severe lightning. Serve with a dash of charred Dyna Blade and you're ready to go. Serves one upset Kirby, aka me. Zero stars. Will not frequent again._
_Yep… it's Kracko, alright! And boy, he'd certainly brought a whole bunch of clouds with him this time! The cloud cover above us is so dense that it could pass off as Cloudy Park with a whiter coloration. Before I end off, I also have a few choice words with regards to other Meta Knight and his story about this "Holy Nightmare Corporation", but perhaps that's best saved for after we deal with the main problem on hand. Namely, one angry cloud named Kracko._
_Also, yeesh! My handwriting is really untidy for this entry. Guess that's what happens with you're forced to write with one hand. Can you blame me, though? After all, I'm using my other arm to hold Dyna Blade's very upset hatchling, so apologies to my future self in advance for the scrawling._
_Yowch! She's hitting my arm with her beak again! Me think it's time to put this thing away before I suffer any additional collateral damage to my limbs… :(_
_Being Pecked Incessantly,
Kirby_
* * *
Blue eyes met blue eyes… or more specifically, blue _eye_. After all, the beast in the air had only one singular eye.
One dilated pupil stared down the young agile Star Warrior. A humming noise could be picked up as the air around the demon beast began to crackle, the white cloud-like being slowly descending from the gray cloud cover swirling all around it.
Kirby maintained a tense stance, biting his lip as he felt the air around him begin to sizzle with built-up static. He unrelentingly stared up at the monster that hovered above him.
It was a test of endurance, making himself appear to be calmer than he actually was. He was already aware that deep within his heart, he was frightened of the monster, but the puffball sure wasn't going to let him discover that fact. He knew that if he had been just a tad bit unluckier, the one lying on the ground with third-degree burns might have wound up being him instead of Dyna Blade.
As things stood now, Kirby understood that the time for games was soundly over. He might have been able to mess around with Dyna Blade once he'd figured out her weak spot, but he doubted that he could do the same here with this guy. The monstrous beast lurking above him appeared very much to be a no-nonsense nemesis who wouldn't hesitate to eliminate him without sparing a second thought.
"Kirby!"
He whirled his head around, peering up at the Cappy girl who had called out to him from the clifftop above.
Fumu.
No surprise there. She was an extremely cautious girl. But it was really too bad for her… Kirby doubted that he could heed her advice. From the piercing gaze that the eyeball from above was giving him, the Star Warrior was pretty sure that there was no turning back now.
It was going to be a fight to the finish. That knowledge firmed up Kirby's resolve. He had no wish to end up on the losing and of such a high-stakes battle. |
dcfed39e9ccd4f928e46dd68f9bd6f9a | ['5e20d12ddc5643678d80d138894da79c'] | “Did I see what? And what the hell are you talking about? Kinetic energy and temporal… nonsense…” she trailed off, looking at him quizzically.
“Paralysis.”
She cocked her head to one side.
“Temporal paralysis. That’s the technical term for what you did in the hospital ward, throwing all those crystals together in the air. You stopped Time for a minute there. Well, not really, but it’s a bit hard to explain when you think that witchcraft exists. I still haven’t figured out how you did it exactly. But the method is genius! You lot looked like you were dancin’.”
“That’s because we were. It’s the sacred Dance of the Seven Sisters. When the song of the moons align to form a circle, we perform a dance and the world stops.” She looked off into the distance and didn’t see the Doctor frown.
“You mean you only do this once every… six weeks, five days, eleven hours and nine seconds?”
Surprise overcame the reverent look Suri had just a moment ago and she nodded. “Yes. But how did you know that? You’re a Wanderer, you’re not part of the Sisterhood.”
“What’s this Sisterhood then? Is it like a religious order?”
“I guess where you come from they might call it that. It is not. It’s a way of life. The bettering of the self. The fight against the Lonely Gods.”
“Who are the Lonely Gods and why do you fight them?”
“It’s them,” she stuck out her chin and jerked her head in the direction where they came from, a contemptuous look on her face.
“The Council?”
Suri nodded.
“Okay. Why are they lonely?”
“Oh, it’s not them who are lonely. It’s everybody else. Don’t you know our language, Wanderer? Yolg’izlik means the Lonely Planet.”
He seemed to stop his fidgeting and think for a moment. He opened his mouth to reply when they heard muffled shouting in the distance.
“They’re comin’. Quick, hide under there!”
Suri looked incredulously at him as he pointed to the ventilation shaft.
“I’m not going in there.”
“Well, unless you give me my screwdriver, we don’t have another option.”
He was already busy trying to open the ventilation shaft, not looking at her or waiting for her response.
“What does it look like?”
“Like a screwdriver, but it’s sonic.”
Suri rolled her eyes and tried to think back to their first meeting with the Doctor.
_After leaving him on the bed, she completed the Dance and released the people in the hospital. There was gasping and fearful looks, but she walked on, determination in every step, walked straight to the golden podium in the middle and stood up tall on it._
_“People of Yolg’izlik, listen to me!”_
_The noise quietened down and she could feel peace surrounding her, as always, when they were in the aftermath of the Dance._
_“We have lived in fear. In isolation. In loneliness.” The words sat heavily on her tongue and all she wanted was to be rid of them. Not yet child, she scolded herself, not yet. Still got a way to go. Still got a lot to learn._
_“How long has it been since you looked upon the blue of the sky, the golden glow of our suns and you were happy? Can you remember it? Happiness? Can you say you loved and have been loved in return, by the person you have chosen in your lifetime? Can you?”_
_She was shouting by now, her voice rising, catching flight, growing wings as she saw the sadness so deeply ingrained in the souls of her people. For they were her people too, despite their many differences, despite her disapproval of the support these people gave to the Council. They were one. And they were fighting for the same thing, even if they stood on opposing sides._
_“We are not enemies. I know what the Council says about the Sisterhood. I know what many of you thinks of us! I know you think we’re cheaters, we’re scum, we’re the free chains that brought this planet down, but it is not so! I stand here today and ask you, beg of you, to look at me and see that I do not want loneliness on this planet.”_
_Spreading her arms, she lifted her head and caught the eyes of the few people who would look at her._
_“I am not your enemy. I might not be your Sister, not the way there once were Sisters, but I stand here today in the name of love. I fight here today to chase away the loneliness.”_
_One of the nurses in a purple uniform (a sign of loyalty to the Council) moved to stop her, but a red-haired revolutionary cut her short - Amelie was her name? Something like that, Suri wasn’t sure._
_“Why are you all sick? What poisons us?”_
_There was a murmur of different words spoken, but the most distinct one was the term ‘mood patches’._
_“That’s right! And what makes us use the mood patches?” She looked around the room, only to see dumbfounded looks and she felt like crying. She had done this many times before, but it wasn’t any easier, not matter how many times she went through it already. These people were treated like cattle, not told why they had to obey the Council, not asked what they wanted, expected to follow orders blindly._ | 76a36d3e72b7431aadb60fd256d04feb | ['5e20d12ddc5643678d80d138894da79c'] | _“What makes us use them? Well, I’ll answer if no one else can. We use them because living without opens us up to the truth. To the pain. A pain so unbearable we have to rely on chemicals to wash it all away. To numb us until we cannot feel anymore. And why do we live like that? Because of the Council! Because it is not legal on Yolg’izlik to marry for love! Because the children are viewed as a nuisance instead of the treasure they are. Because the only way we are able to conceive children is if we put on a patch and let the chemicals take over our bodies! Enough, I say!”_
_They weren’t roused yet, she could tell, but they were still listening. The one cumbersome nurse was held in a death-grip by the ginger girl whose name Suri couldn’t remember and no one else seemed inclined to speak up against the Revolution._
_“We aren’t cattle, are we? We are told - you are told what to do, but never why you do it. We mustn’t question the authority, the Council, because it is dangerous. Look at me, I’m dangerous. I have a death penalty on my head. Had it since I was three. But I am still alive. And still fighting. And I will keep fighting until my last breath!”_
_She could see eyes shining with emotion now and she knew the favour of the gods was on her side this time._
_“Come and fight with me! That is the only way to overcome this nightmare! Stand up and make your voice heard. Make your life count! Don’t abandon your children! Marry for love! Look in my eyes with love!”_
_A unifying cry of “For love!” reverberated through the hospital ward and Suri became hopeful._
_“For love!” she shouted._
_“For love!” the crowd echoed._
_“With love!” she yelled._
_“With love!” they repeated._
_The doors banged open and Warlocks rushed in, deep red robes flying wild around their ankles, brandishing their staffs, throwing bolts of electricity in all directions. Suri saw one of the nurses crumble to the floor in a heap and signalled to her team to retreat. The ginger girl hit one of the Warlocks already and seemed to want to stay and fight, but one of Suri’s pesh-kabz landing two inches from her left ear stopped her._
_The revolutionaries started to leave the building as fast as they could. The patients and nurses were shrieking again, chaos overwhelming the hospital. Suri was hit by one of the bolts originating from the warlocks’ staff and stumbled backwards. She was caught from behind and steadied on her feet by a reassuring hand on the small of her back._
_When she turned she was looking into the warm blue eyes of the prisoner she just left on the hospital bed._
_“So, what’s your name then?”_
_She was so disorientated by those shining blue eyes and the gentle hands that caught her that she didn’t even think before the words were out of her mouth._
_“Suri. My name is Suri.”_
_He nodded slightly, took her right hand in his and smiled a devilish smile._
_“Nice to meet you Suri. Run for your life.”_
_And so they ran._
If she thought back hard, she could remember seeing a thin, greyish blue object on the side table beside his bed. She did pick it up as they exited the ward, but it looked nothing like a screwdriver. Not by her definition at least. Still, might be worth a try. Who knows what being sonic did to things?
“Are you looking for this?” she asked nonchalantly and threw him the object.
His smile when he caught the strange looking pencil (for Suri thought that was the most accurate description she could give it) was so bright she was taken aback for a moment, staring at the sheer beauty of it and decided with a shake of her head that she liked him. Crazy or not, he was the most interesting person she’s ever met. And he seemed to genuinely care about people, even if his almost phlegmatic attitude to danger didn’t appeal to Suri.
“Yes! That is exactly what I was looking for!”
He scrambled to his feet and ran to her, kissing her forehead swiftly before rushing to the door and fidgeting with the lock until it opened. Suri didn’t have time to scowl at the sudden, uninvited contact - he was pulling her inside the next chamber by the hand, swiftly closing the door behind them as the shouting got louder and they could hear hurried footsteps. It seemed to reach them just as the door clicked shut and they both yelled triumphantly as their escape seemed to go down successfully.
Their merriment didn’t last long however, as they soon discovered there was no way out of the room except for the door they came in through.
“What now?” Suri asked impatiently, all the cheer evaporating from her heart as the Doctor paced around the room.
“We wait,” he replied.
“Wait?!” she asked incredulously.
“Well, you’ve got any better ideas?”
Suri crossed her arms and shook her head.
“Then we wait.”
They sat down on a large crate back to back.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thank you for reading. As always, your comments and kudos mean the world to me and keep me writing, so please leave one if you're enjoying this story.
9. Escape Plans
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Apologizes for skipping an update last week - our internet cut out for five days with the company not really wanting to do anything about it. But I'm back now with another chapter! These are some of the scenes I enjoyed writing the most, so hopefully you'll enjoy reading them equally well. :)
“I can’t do this!” Suri huffed.
“It’s not so bad,” the Doctor tried to calm her. |
592145310e6a4a13a5ad1fa6ebb44221 | ['5e2694e10b764f319333aced95358d90'] | I’m very excited to see both of you again. I am glad that Luke has “important jedi business”, although it would be nicer if he could join us as well (though Ben I’m you’d like a break from him). The Resistance has changed a lot since you’ve been gone. We’ve seriously upgraded our facilities, and have nearly double the membership we had when you were last here. Of course, you’ll have special quarters set aside for you, because I’m sure that’s what you’re accustomed to. I’ll have one of our best young pilots (he’s around your age), Poe Dameron, give you a tour and help you get reacclimated. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay, and I’m so glad to have you home.
-Leia
Leia,
Ben is successfully dropped off and safely back with Luke. That kid talked my ear off about the resistance and whatnot on the ride back here. It certainly was a shock to his system, but he definitely needed it. He seemed to have really enjoyed his time with us. And him and that Dameron kid really hit it off. Ben would not shut up about him. Poe this, Poe that, enough already! I get the idea. But he really enjoyed. And Luke looked much more relaxed. And very grateful. He sends his regards. Well, I’ll be back as soon as possible. Keep up the good work! See you soon.
-Han
Han,
I don’t know if you’ve heard yet. Luke just told me that Ben had an… incident. Luke says he was seduced by the dark side of the Force. They think there was an outside factor influencing him and affecting his mind, at least to some extent. Ben killed all of the other students of Luke. Or so Luke thinks. Some of them are unaccounted for. Luke told me that he is leaving. He didn’t say where or when he’ll come back. He didn’t say why, but I know he blames himself for it. I can’t believe Ben would do this. And we saw him so recently! He was so happy then! I would never have believed he would have this kind of thing within. Luke said he reinstated something called the Knights of Ren, an ancient Sith order that is very dangerous and violent. It’s now formed up of teenagers! I can’t believe it. And one last thing that Luke told me: Ben is dead. He is now Kylo Ren. Han, our son is dead. Please come home soon. You’re all that’s left.
-Leia
Leia,
I’m not coming home. I know that this is tough on you. I know that I’m the last of your family. But you must also know I can’t come home. I can’t really explain why, I just can’t. Just like you can’t leave, I can’t go back. It’ll truly be like old times again. I’m the smuggler, you’re the princess. And it stays that way with no intermingling lives. Got it, princess? I’m leaving. And this time, it’s for good. Sorry Leia, I just can’t do it anymore. Goodbye, my love. Perhaps we’ll meet again one day, but for now, it’s the end. Goodbye, Leia.
-Han
Han,
You don’t have to do this. We don’t have to be a princess and a smuggler anymore. Those days are past and you know it. I’m a princess without a planet and you’re a smuggler with all the money in the world you could need. It doesn’t work anymore. Han, I’m begging you, come home. I need you to keep going. I can’t do this alone anymore. I thought I could, but I can’t. Come home.
-Leia
Han,
It turns out I was wrong. I can do this alone. I don’t need you anymore, Han Solo. I have everything under control here, it seems. You don’t need to come home anymore, Han. I can do this on my own. Because, I’ve realized my job is to stop the very menace I created. So, I have my work and you have yours. I don’t ever want to see you again. You were right. This is goodbye, Han Solo.
-General Leia Organa
Han,
I just thought you’d like an update on the current condition of this battle against the self proclaimed First Order. We have been regaining occupied planets and arming the civilians to help them withstand a likely First Order attack. Although it this operation has been happening at an alarmingly slow rate, we are still making progress, and that is enough for us for now. We have nearly quadrupled in size since you last were here, and therefore don’t need you anymore. I have been declared official leader of the Resistance (although I still plan on keeping the title General). We are doing very well without your help. You have no need to worry.
-General Leia Organa
General,
I can’t believe we’re back to this. Me calling you General again. It’s been awhile since you’ve last contacted me, and any contacts I have that keep me updated on the Resistance (yes I do actually care) have all suddenly gone quiet. I can’t manage to get in contact with any of them. I just wanted to make sure that the Resistance, along with you, are alright.
-Han Solo
Han Solo,
That’s very kind of you to check on us. We’re doing fine. We have recently changed many of our security clearance codes, which is likely why your contacts went quiet. We are still improving much and gaining ground. My offer from so many years ago when we were young still stands: you’re welcome to come and join us. There is always a position open to you.
-Leia Organa
Leia,
I found the Falcon again and I’ve managed to pick up 2 more people and a droid (again). We’re coming home.
-Han
Han, | d6ddfa338197450c8bafddc26cf410bb | ['5e2694e10b764f319333aced95358d90'] |
Dear Han, Love Leia
Han Solo,
I am contacting you today because the resistance greatly appreciates your services and therefore would like to extend the invitation to permanently join our ranks. You have spent much time with of us, especially of late, so it is only appropriate you officially join us. Please consider our offer with much thought. Thank you for your time.
-General Leia Organa
Your Worshipfulness,
Thanks for the offer, princess. But as formal as you wrote, I know you just want to keep me around. Lucky for you, I’ll accept your offer. I can’t really expect you to raise our soon-to-be kid (yes I know you’re pregnant (never tell Luke anything)). But I don’t want to be stuck there. If I can still come and go as I please, then I think we can make it work. And don’t get any ideas.
-Han Duo
Han,
I know you don’t like being a father and having actual commitments. But you can’t just run off every time you make some small mistake. You have to come back! You know I can’t do this myself. I don’t know if I can do anything myself anymore. But Han, please, I’m begging you, come back. I need you. Ben needs you. The resistance needs you. We all need you Han. Please come home. I can’t do this alone. I can’t raise a baby, our baby, alone. I need you, Han. I really do.
-Leia
Leia,
I know I’ve been gone for a few rotations and you haven’t been able to get ahold of me. Sorry about that. I had a little run in with an old enemy. I’m coming home. Don’t worry.
-Han
Han,
You call that acceptable? You think a little apology will make it better? Come home and we’ll work this out face to face. And if you won’t come home, I will send an armed guard out to find you. And they won’t fail. So I’d recommend coming home. Willingly.
-Leia
Leia,
Damn princess you drive a hard bargain. Alright, I’m coming home. Just please don’t try to arrest. I actually like the resistance guys (well some of them) and I don’t want to hurt them but I will if I have to. So yeah, I’m coming home. See you soon.
-Han
Han,
You can’t do this anymore! I can’t let you run off anymore! I swear to whatever there is that when you get back I’m hiding the Falcon from you. You can’t just leave us here! And with Ben growing more powerful with every passing day, I need all the help I can get. I know you’ve gotten better since when Ben was younger at not running away, but you can’t do it now. Especially not now. Luke is talking about taking Ben away and training him. Luke wants to start a jedi academy for Force sensitive children. Would you really leave me when everyone else is leaving me too? Or are you too planning on going to some secluded place to throw rocks around? Because if you are, just let me know. I have better things to do than spend most of my time chasing around a nerf-herder like you throughout this entire galaxy. I have a resistance effort to run. That, unlike you, has to be discreet and successful. So, just tell me what your plan is for now so I can get back to my life.
-Leia
General,
Go on with your life. I’ll be out roaming the galaxy and actually enjoying myself. Tell me when Ben and Luke are leaving so I can come say goodbye.
-Han Solo
Han,
Fine.
-Leia
Leia,
I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have left you like that right when Ben was leaving too. I’m sorry. Can I come home and we can work this out? I know I messed up. Please, let me come. Let’s rebuild a relationship. We can do this. I have faith in you. I have faith in us. I’m begging you, let me back in. I know you’ve blocked me out, but it’d be great if you could just let me back in. Leia, please. Let’s rekindle that old flame. Let’s let it be like old times again. Like we have no cares in the world. Just a party with some Ewoks would be nice. We can have it all now. You’re a General. I’m galaxy famous. Come on princess, let’s do it again. We can fall in love again. Just like we did during the days of the Empire. We can do it all all over again. Just let me back in. Let me come home.
-Han
Han,
I think it’s about time you come home.
-Leia
Leia,
I’m heading home now. I have Ben with me. Luke says he can stay with us for a while because he has “important jedi business” or some other bantha shit excuse which basically translates to “Ben is homesick so here deal with him for a while so I can get a much needed break”. Ben is reading over my shoulder and says he wasn’t openly complaining about it but he sometime forgets that Luke is a Jedi. Hi mom it’s Ben. I can’t keep letting dad talk for me. He totally does not write what I’m saying. Han here again. I so was. Were not! Was too! Were not! Look, I’m the dad so I’m right. Anyway, Chewie is very happy. I’ve never seen him this happy before. Have you ever dealt with an ecstatic Wookie? I don’t recommend it. Well, we’ll be home soon. You know you’re happy about it. Anyway, see you soon.
-Han
Han and Ben, |
4478f88f826a40c98edc21d29a72af5c | ['5e3f34f757764754894244469709ceb4'] |
1. In which a mission goes haywire.
Cor Leonis always had been willing to give his life for King and country without hesitation. To die a soldier's death, even if there was no glory in it.
Still, he was not willing to die here, between debris and rubbish in an abandoned building on the roadside. The rusty steel beams that impaled him through shoulder and arm had missed any vital organs, and though his mind was hazy, he was sure that none of the large arteries were hit. He had been stuck here for too long to hope for a quick demise anymore.
The Niffs had known he'd take this road. Some little bird sung about this very discreet mission in his majesty's service, and they had waited. Built an ambush. Blasted his motorcycle from the road with a targeted missile, then sent some soldiers to finish the job. Not even MTs, but simple soldiers...
When they found him, crucified on a broken wall, hanging like a puppet on a string, his left leg twisted and useless, they first stared, then laughed.
Some Immortal he was.
They took their time with him. Taking off his helmet, cutting of parts of the sturdy black leather he wore. Taking pictures of his calamity to prove the job was not only done, but that even Insomnia's bigshots were prone to a mortifying fate.
Then one of them had taken out a black marker, proclaiming he had an excellent idea, and wrote a word on Cor's naked skin. “Slut” the letters said.
His comrades were taken with this idea, and soon enough only small scraps of Cor's jacket and his boots remained, while they covered him in the kind of graffiti only found in restrooms and seedy alleys. They finished with a “cocksucker” written on his forehead and marveled at their work.
This time the photos they took were for private used only. They posed with the broken body, throwing V's for victory, pointing at the limp cock, pulling on it, pretending to cut it off until one of them reminded the rest that it would be a way too easy death.
It was only a call from HQ that made them leave.
Cor stared into nothingness, unblinking. This too would pass.
At one point he made an effort to struggle against the rusty metal holding him, trying to push himself free with the good leg, but all that caused was white, burning pain. He passed out after only moving a few precious inches.
He tried to pray, but all that was in his head was the feeling of failure, the disappointment on Regis' sweet, oh-so-tired face. His king would caress his cheek, gently wipe away grime and blood, assure him it was only human, and Cor would look into his eyes and know he was lying.
Light was fading fast. Maybe the night would be merciful enough to bring an end that was fast and thorough enough that the shameful thing that was his body could not be identified.
Something startled him. Lights in the darkness, approaching slowly. The noise of a car closing in, the sound of the engine shutting down. A tiny glimmer of hope sparked in the soldier, and he tried calling out to whoever it was. A tiny sound from his sore throat that ebbed as soon as he realized it might be more of -them-, coming back to see if their job was finished.
Gravel scrunched under the feet of a single person, and torchlight danced over the destroyed structure of what once had been somebody's house until it finally found the bruised body.
Cor blinked, dry eyes trying to regain vision, but the white light was blinding.
“Pl...please...” The word dripped from his mouth like a last drop of honey.
The torch went out.
In the sudden gloom, it seemed to him like the shadows were densifying, slowly arching closer. But somebody had been there, or maybe it was just his head playing tricks on him. Wishful thinking, yeah, that had to be it.
A sharp little pain in his thigh. He knew only too well how an injection felt, and the spreading numbness of a narcotic in his blood was familiar from too many incidents on the battlefield. His body tensed up, unwilling to accept this gift. New agony pulsed through him as he moved, had him gasping for air.
“Iden... t'fy your...” A hopeless order met with rough laughter.
The shadow. The enemy. Cor knew this, despite his head swimming from exhaustion.
The enemy approached him, almost touching his naked flesh, bringing the smell of leather and machine oil and cordite. To Cor, he smelled like home.
Gloved fingers tried to get a grip of his short dark hair, but settled for his jaw in the end, pushing up his head. Under the stars, he saw not more than blackness and inhuman shapes and, tiny as a distant firefly, a green light. “ _-Night vision-_ ”, his experience prompted.
A touch on his cheek. The caress of polished metal, smooth and cold like a stone from a riverbed. The barrel wandered over his skin, coming to a hold at his brittle lips. Pushing. Cor clenched his jaw, a gesture that earned him an almost loving slap with the gun.
“Some cocksucker you are. Open up, you little piece of shit, or I'll bash your teeth in.” A hoarse voice, deliberately low. His mouth was forced open, the barrel entering deep into his throat. The chemical taste filled his world, making him gag.
As the gun moved in his mouth, painfully hitting his palate with every thrust, his mind was eagerly telling him the most likely model and the nice big holes on of those could make.
“Suck it, like the dick of one of your little loverboys. Get it clean and slick.” | 6acb6d7808634c98b99f8f3d582b0e47 | ['5e3f34f757764754894244469709ceb4'] |
1. The Fool
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Asra is brought before Chief Inspector Valerius to answer for a mysterious crime.
> Did he do it? Or is there more to the story than meets the eye?
“Asra. It is still only Asra, I presume, and you still are utterly innocent and have no idea why you’re here.” The bleached blond pinched his nose. The presence of the young man promised trouble, because it always did, with his important friends asking nicely for him to be released. “Surely all a misunderstanding, as usual, and the blood on your clothes got there by accident, or is it paint or…?
Valerius shook his head. It was like the boy wanted to be caught, appearing before him and ruining his already fragile day again and again. At least, these days it went straight to him. That made it easier to keep it off the files.
Lucio—or as he liked to be referred to, The Count—paid Valerius a pretty stipend to make sure those that worked for him stayed out of trouble. Officially.
They got into all manner of trouble that never made it into an official report.
The Chief Inspector sighed, leaning back in his chair. The extra money kept his bad habits well funded, at least.
The young white-haired man before him shrugged. “Accident. Paint.” Asra looked down at the red stains on his clothing. “Whichever you prefer.” He smiled that same impish smile he had had since he was nothing more than a street urchin being dragged into the station for petty theft every other day.
The boy had done all right for himself, in a manner of speaking. There were worse fates for a person like Asra to befall than doing… whatever he did for a man like Lucio.
“No idea about the cause of death too, I guess? You just hung around there because you missed me so dearly and needed to see me again?”
Valerius was not a violent man. One who did what was necessary, maybe a bit more, but the smug little grin on the pretty face made his fists itch. It was that certain arrogance the boy shouldn’t be able to afford and yet had so plenty of.
“Is that so hard to believe? You and I are old friends, Val. Of course I missed you.” Asra lifted both hands and turned them palm-up, a gesture of supplication or feigned ignorance. “And like I told your officers, I stumbled upon the scene just as you found it. Only thought I’d do my civil duty by staying to give a statement. Wouldn’t want an unfortunate misunderstanding.” The young man was still grinning, violet eyes alight. But there was a darkness in them too. Fear? A warning?
Valerius needed a drink. His head had already begun to pound.
“How has life treated you, Asra? You don’t look so well.”
That was even true. The boy looked tired, ashen somehow, it pouring through his radiant exterior. Sometimes the chief wondered if he was just another one of the Count’s private whores, but Lucio kept those out of trouble. It was just a hunch that made him ask the next question. “Are you hurt?”
Asra’s eyes widened, almost imperceptibly. If Valerius hadn’t had known the man before him since he was a naught but a boy of ten years, he wouldn’t have noticed the slight flash of… something in his face. In a second, Asra’s expression was back to one of humorous indifference. “Never better.”
“Jolly well then.” The chief almost managed to copy his cheery tone, if it hadn’t been for the slight mockery in his voice. “But since you are here, and got blood on you that’s probably not yours…. You know how it goes. Hands against the wall, legs spread.”
Asra took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Surely that isn’t necessary.”
“I can do it, or I can call one of my men. Your decision, kid.” He cracked his fingers.
Valerius’ brand of kindness was an odd one. It was not the kind that ever required thanks from those he helped, because it was so _accidental_. Turning a blind eye at just the right moment, or turning his attention to something in just the right one. All by chance. Or luck. Nothing that could have presumed sympathy from the man.
Asra sighed and walked over to the wall, placing his hands flat against it.
“Really, Val… this is a waste of time,” he said, but he shifted his feet until they were shoulder-width apart and waited nonetheless.
After a moment, he glanced back at Valerius. The mischief had returned to his violet eyes. “What are you waiting for, Inspector?”
" _Chief inspector_ ”
The pale eyes were quick on the intake, dancing over the slender frame, looking for irregularities. Little shifts in position because a movement was uncomfortable or hurt, a spot where the red marks were fresher or blooming from inside the clothes. “Where’s your jacket, Asra? It’s too cold outside for being outside like that.”
Asra didn’t answer Valerius’ question right way. He just looked back at the wall.
“I…” he started, paused. Asra’s hand twitched. “I must have forgotten it.”
He was only dressed in a white shirt and trousers, the red blood more startling against the white cotton.
“It was a nice jacket too.” The last part was barely audible.
The inspector got up. Laid aside his own jacket and started patting down the younger man, not really focusing on the contents of his pockets, but on his left side, where the tattoo of a snake curled up his arm, white and violet and dotted with crimson. Waited for the unavoidable flinch as his hands touched wetness that soaked through white fabric.
Asra sucked in a breath, but kept his eyes trained forward. His hands had closed into fists against the wall.
“Careful.” His voice trembled slightly. "I’m… ticklish.” |
48a9bc59e6744d4794e490828d9d5c3c | ['5e46999db8bb4ca78764a3a6c3a8b73a'] | Ernst yawns and _fuck, that’s cute_ , Hanschen thinks. “I was, but my heat source left the bed. Were you about to—?” He gestures to the sketchbook on the table.
“Of course not. That would have been a violation of privacy, would it not?” It’s not necessarily a _lie_ ; he had still been considering the action when Ernst interrupted him.
Ernst nods and his features take on a contemplative look. He eyes the blond before him for a moment, eyes sweeping up and down the muscular frame.
“Is everything—,”
“Hanschen, I’d like to try something,” Ernst lets the blanket drop to the ground and makes his way around the room, gathering up a handful of brushes, tubes of paint, and a palette, “I’m going to need your help, though.”
“That depends on what it is,” Hanschen raises an eyebrow, thoroughly confused and charmed.
Ernst points to a space on the throw rug. “Lay down, please. On your stomach.”
There is hesitation, but Hanschen does as he’s told. He was already standing naked before Ernst, there’s really no way to possibly make himself more vulnerable. He settles himself, crossing his arms under his head, and listens to Ernst hum absently as he prepares… whatever it is he’s preparing.
“Do you mind if I, um, sit on you?” Ernst asks, obviously sheepish.
Hanschen refrains from making the obvious joke. “Of course. Are you going to tell me what you’re doing…?”
“You’ll know.”
Ernst settles himself cautiously on Hanschen’s backside, and it takes a moment before anything happens. After a few seconds of silence and virtually no movement, Hanschen feels what is unmistakably a paintbrush thick with paint on his back.
“Are you painting me?” He grins as the sensation continues.
“I’ve got to say, that took you an awful long time to figure out. You’d think all the paint supplies would give it away.” Ernst chuckles and continues his work.
“Do you do this with everyone you sleep with?” Hanschen is genuinely curious. Artists are an odd bunch, after all.
“Mmm, no, you’re the first. I’ve never really _wanted_ to do this with anyone else.” He pauses to mix colors. “Something about you makes me want to paint more than I’ve wanted to in a while.”
Hanschen hums, closing his eyes. “And you’re sure your roommate won’t be coming back anytime soon?”
“Moritz? Oh, no, he’s at Melchior’s. Which means he won’t be back for at least another day.” There’s fondness in his voice, and a light air of teasing.
“The same Melchior I know?” Hanschen asks.
“Who else in Manhattan has a name like that?” Ernst laughs, changing to a new brush. “So yes, same Melchi.”
Hanschen knew there was always an air of mystery surrounding Melchior’s romantic and sexual partners, but he never would have assumed it would be in order to hide a boyfriend. “So they’re just fucking, or…?”
Ernst shrugs, pauses. “Melchior and Moritz are a lot of things. Sleeping with each other is only a small part of whatever they do.”
They fall into silence as Ernst focuses on his work. Hanschen finds himself relaxed enough to slip into a half-asleep state. The further into the silence they fall, the more Hanschen begins to feel as if he knows Ernst better than he actually does. Between the painting and the way Ernst grips Hanschen’s shoulder to keep balance there is an electric intimacy building between the two of them. He finds himself disappointed when Ernst finally stands.
“I’m going to go get my camera to take a few pictures, if that’s alright. After that you’re free to shower it off.” Ernst leaves and Hanschen feels the absence almost tangibly, despite the fact that he is only a room over.
The tightness rears its ugly head once again, and Hanschen realizes finally that it is a mixture of fondness, anxiety, and longing.
This is not something he quite knows how to handle. He supposes it is something he will have to learn to figure out.
4. good indeed
The feeling turns out to be something Hanschen has to learn to deal with rather quickly, as it turns out, as Ernst sits him down not three days after their impromptu painting session to discuss the F word.
The F word being, of course, “future”.
They’re at a small coffee shop somewhere in the heart of downtown—Hanschen remembers Ernst saying it was his favorite. There are a million questions he wants to ask him about it. How did he find it? What’s his favorite drink here? Favorite place to sit? Hanschen waves each question aside, however, with the realization that they’re only there to serve as distractions from what is actually happening.
Ernst takes a long sip of his hot cocoa—with an added pump of vanilla, an important detail—and bites his lip. “I didn’t want to put you on the spot like this, I just…,” He trails off. “I like you, Hanschen. A lot. Probably an embarrassing amount.” Hanschen laughs softly at that. “But I can’t shake the feeling that we’re just not looking for the same thing.”
A pause begins, but before it can truly get anywhere Ernst fills it with nervous babbling.
“I-I mean not that it’s bad if you don’t want to actually date me! Not to say I don’t want you to, because I do—I mean I really want you to, but we all want different things! Isn’t that what makes life so great? That we’re all so different? I certainly lo—“
“Ernst, please, it’s fine,” Hanschen smiles coolly and takes a drink of his coffee, thinking. “I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted when we first started seeing each other, I will admit that. Well--” he pauses, tilting his head to the side. “No, that’s not right, I knew what I wanted. I wanted to sleep with you, is all.”
Ernst blushes and averts his gaze. | 3d0738545f1f4de09a40ad25e7e74e9b | ['5e46999db8bb4ca78764a3a6c3a8b73a'] |
Head First and No Regrets
**Author's Note:**
> Hello I've come to deliver a load of trashy high school au McPriceley on you guys!
> As stated in the tags, the idea for this came from Walk The Moon's song Aquaman, which is where the title is from. I highly suggest going to listen to it, it's lovely.
> Enjoy!
It’s dark and the music is pounding and Kevin would really rather be anywhere in the world than in the tiny high school gym but, alas, here he is. Standing on the wall watching Arnold and Nabulungi awkwardly slow dance to some song he was sure they had just played twenty minutes ago. Then again, all the songs had started to run together at this point anyway.
He sighed and tipped his head back, staring at all the gaudy decorations and counting the ceiling tiles in what could be considered an attempt at passing the time. Maybe Jack was right and he should have just asked someone. Dancing with some girl he was barely friends with would have been more tolerable than _this_. What a sorry prom experience to look back on.
The sound of someone clearing their throat from beside him caught his attention and he stood upright again, turning his gaze on the boy standing beside him.
“I noticed your little pity party and thought that you might want to actually dance with someone,” Connor McKinley smiled up at him, stretching out his hand.
Kevin stared blankly at him. Was he kidding? There was no way in heck he was about to dance at prom in front of the whole school with another boy. Especially not Connor, whom everyone at church already had more than enough to say about.
It was hard to say no, though, when Connor was staring at him so innocently, the kindest smile upon his lips. Maybe the rumors he had overheard his mother telling her friends weren’t true. Maybe he was really just trying to be a good friend. With his pale blue bowtie and perfectly coiffed ginger hair, he didn’t look at all like the predator they made him out to be.
Kevin mulled it over for about five seconds total before taking his hand and nodding. “Sure, I guess.” He smiled awkwardly, not nearly matching the brightness and natural cheer of Connor’s own but trying his best anyway.
Connor led him out to the dance floor and pulled him close. All of his movements were careful and came with a hint of hesitation, giving Kevin the sense that he was giving hard thought to where he put his hands on the taller boy. His hands ended up gingerly placed on Kevin’s waist. The brunet felt a wave of anxiety run through him starting at the points of contact and took a deep breath to settle himself back down. _It’s just Connor_ , he reminded himself silently. Kevin had never been one for physical contact with _any_ other person, let alone acquaintances who the entire town thought to be _gay_.
“I’m going to be honest, I was surprised to see you here without your own date,” Connor raised his eyebrows in nonchalant question, clearly wanting to pry while keeping an air of politeness.
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly planning on going alone, it kind of just ended up that way,” Kevin did his best to keep the irritation from creeping up in his voice. “It was _supposed_ to be just me and Arnold, but he actually ended up with a date.” Kevin decided to leave out the part about how none of the girls at their school interested him in the slightest. “But I still had my ticket and tux and everything, so I decided to just third wheel it, I guess. So technically I’m not here _alone_ , just…” He paused, thinking it over. “Alone.”
Connor nodded in understanding. “Well, not alone anymore,” a gentle smile followed, and Kevin found himself returning it easily. Connor was a lot easier to be around than he had expected, and he wondered briefly why he had had any inhibitions about accepting the offer to dance in the first place.
“You’re alone too, though, why is that? Weren’t you going with Christopher?” Kevin found himself genuinely curious.
“Yes, but James tagged along last minute and the two of them have been attached at the hip all night. Felt like I was intruding a little.” Connor shrugged, and Kevin swore he felt him get closer. “I know that this is what Chris wanted anyway, who am I to ruin that?”
Kevin frowned. He felt a pang of what felt like a protective instinct. “You deserve to have a good prom night too, Connor. This is your night just as much as it is everyone else’s.”
Connor looked up at him and they held eye contact for a long moment. After a while the redhead broke contact, cheeks a brighter pink than usual. “It’s alright. At least I got to dance with someone, that’s all that matters in the end I guess.”
Well, that didn’t make Kevin feel any better about the situation. Without thinking, he blurted out the first thought to cross his mind. “Do you maybe wanna leave?”
Bright blue eyes started back up at him, blinking in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?”
Kevin sighed. “I asked if you wanted to leave. Who says we have to stay here and feel awful all night? We got pictures with our groups, had some punch, did the ‘prom experience’ or whatever and clearly that isn’t working for us, so why not just, you know, leave?”
As Connor thought the offer over Kevin felt his heart race. He could feel the anxiety raising in his chest and as the seconds passed the idea seemed increasingly stupid.
“You know what? Sure. Why not.” Connor smiled. “Let’s bounce.” |
76b1c6ab8c6648bda593ce556b35fe4b | ['5e694eaa846c4739853ed0b2bbbce170'] |
How Would You Feel? (If I Told You I Loved You)
**Author's Note:**
> It's been a while since I've done a one-shot. And since my last sick!fic had Nurse!Poe and Sick!Rey, I thought I would do one where Rey gets to nurse Poe back to health.
>
> Fair warning: I wrote most of this at like 2am, so I will probably edit it later
> Title from the Ed Sheeran song _How would you feel (Paean)_.
>
> Enjoy <3
Poe looked like death warmed over. Rey hadn't known what to do when BB-8 had rolled into her bunk in a panic, screeching something about [Friend Rey, Hurry quick!] before knocking into her knees and racing out the door again. Rey had followed quickly to find Poe collapsed on the ground in front of his bed, his shoes half pulled off and a cold sweat breaking out over his face.
Rey hadn’t known what was wrong with him, she’d sent BB-8 to summon a medical droid while she’d gotten Poe situated in bed. The droid had surmised that Poe had picked up a flu on his last off world mission; and had concluded that the best thing for him after the initial medication was to sweat it out.
Rey stayed with him, partly because she was worried, partly because Poe had asked. She was slowly coming around to the idea that she very much liked Poe, in a different way than she liked Finn. She liked when he made her laugh with his weird jokes, and she liked the easy smiles he wore when they were teasing Finn about his aversion to Koyo melons, a delicacy that Rey was crazy about. She liked the way he led his team, and she liked the way he treated BB-8. It hurt her to see him suffering through this fever.
Sighing she reached up to change the cold cloth from his forehead, allowing some of the cool water to drip onto his chest.
“Hmmm,” Poe hummed. “Feels nice,” he mumbled, not opening his eyes, his voice still hoarse. His fever had broken a few hours ago, but he was still not back to normal.
BB-8 trilled softly, asking about Poe’s progress. “I think he’s getting better, Bee,” Rey said, quietly, trying not to disturb Poe any further as she straightened the blankets around him. “We’ll just have to wait a little longer.”
BB-8 warbled a longer question and Rey laughed.
“Yes, I think R2 can tell you stories about General Organa and Lieutenant Bey. But, if it’s busy don’t bother it, okay?”
BB-8 whistled and wobbled happily before looking back at Poe quietly. “Don’t worry about him,” Rey said, kindly. “I’ll look after him for you.”
BB-8 looked at her for a long moment, then back at Poe, then back at her. [Master Poe likes you very much]
Rey blinked before smiling down at the droid. “I like him too, BB.”
BB-8 looked at Poe again before turning to Rey and whistling, [Master Poe said that you should have the ring]
“What?” Rey asked, staring down at the droid, perplexed. “What ring?” The words were barely out of her mouth when BB-8 turned sharply and raced out of the room, whistling cheerfully as it went to find R2-D2.
“Rey?” She heard Poe grumble behind her.
“I’m here,” she said, reaching to take his fumbling fingers. “Did you need something?”
Poe smiled and squeezed her hand. “No, you’re here. That’s nice,” he said, his voice slightly slurred.
Rey smiled, running her free hand over his warm forehead. “Poe?” she asked
“Mhm.”
“What did BB-8 mean? It said you wanted to give me a ring...?” she trailed off, unsure of her question.
Poe’s face broke into a smile. “My mom’s ring.” His words were clear, even if his eyes were beginning to flutter closed, sleep pulling at him. “She told me to give it to someone I loved more than anything.”
“But-” Rey was interrupted by Poe’s mutter.
“When I wake up I’m going to find you and tell you I love you for real.”
Rey’s heart beat hard twice. He loved her? Did Poe even know she was here? Did he think she was a fever dream?
His grip on her hand went slack as his exhaustion pulled him under again. Rey sat up, staring at him.
She didn’t know how to be in love, she was just beginning to feel normal around Finn and Rose. She didn’t know how to feel about someone like Poe telling her they loved her. She wasn’t anybody, she was just a scavenger from an outer rim planet that no one wanted to go to.
Rey pulled her comm unit out and radioed Finn. “Hey, are you free?”
It took a minute before Finn’s voice crackled through the comm. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“Can you come and watch Poe for a little while?” Rey asked, hating herself already for hiding this from Finn. “I have some stuff I need to do today.”
“Be there in a few minutes.”
Rey let out a breath. She was leaving Poe in Finn’s capable hands, it wasn’t like she was leaving him. And she did need to finish fixing the shield deflectors on the Falcon, which she’d promised Chewy she’d finish.
When Finn arrived, she tried very hard to seem as normal as possible, she still felt on edge. Finn didn’t seem to notice as he smiled at her and sat down at Poe’s desk, checking over some reports on his datapad.
Rey managed to wait till the door to Poe’s quarters hissed closed before breaking into a jog, heading towards the hangar. She found a small storage closet just before she reached the hangar and ducked inside. As weird as it may seem, she missed the confines of her AT-AT back on Jakku. Even when she was alone, it was a safe space, a place she could rest for a little while. | c53d95bef29e42d29324d9c381edc409 | ['5e694eaa846c4739853ed0b2bbbce170'] | “My final essay for Professor Erso,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “God, I hope this goes well.”
“She hard on you?” the girl asked, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
“She’s hard on everyone,” Poe said, honestly.
“Oh, believe me, I know.” That smile was still there, almost taunting him.
“You ever take her class?”
“Nope,” she said with confidence.
“It’s just,” Poe started and trailed off. “Have you ever had a professor who you wanted to impress, but couldn’t even begin to figure out where to start?”
The smile turned into a giggle at that. “Oh, absolutely,” the girl responded between giggles.
“What?” Poe asked, bemused at her continued laughter.
The girl rolled her eyes. “Nothing.” She turned back to her laptop and began to google something.
Poe stared at her for a moment, before turning back to his own essay. They worked in silence for a few moments before the girl giggled again and broke the silence.
“If you want her to be impressed with you, you should start using footnotes, in addition to your bibliography at the end. She hates random citations.”
“What?” Poe looked up at her, mind still on the wording of the sentence he’d been editing.
“Your citations,” she said, pointing to his screen. “If you really want to impress Professor Erso, you should use footnotes instead of in text citations. It’s one of her pet peeves.”
Poe studied her face for a moment. “I thought you’d never taken her class, how do you know that?”
The girl laughed brightly. “Because I’ve been listening to her complain about essay structure for a while.”
That didn’t make any sense to Poe. Why did she know Professor Erso’s habits?
“You think essays are bad, just think about how bad it was playing hooky once in high school,” she said with a sardonic laugh.
“Are—are you related to Professor Erso?” Poe asked. It was the only reason his tired brain could think to connect the dots.
“She’s my mum. I’m Rey Andor.”
“Poe Dameron,” Poe responded, a little dumbstruck.
“Well it’s nice to meet you, Poe.” Rey’s smile widened as she turned back to her laptop.
Poe laughed. Of all the people he could have developed a crush on, he just had to go have one on the daughter of one of his strictest professors. Not that he was worried that Professor Erso would base his grades on his relationship status, but still. “Nice to meet you, too, Rey.”
They worked in silence for a little while before an idea struck Poe.
“Okay, so, level with me,” he said turning on his stool to face Rey. “Is there any merit to the MI6 rumor?”
Rey looked like she was trying to chew her lip off to keep from smiling, resolutely keeping her eyes on her laptop screen. “Maybe.” The way she drew out the syllables made Poe sit up straighter in his chair.
“What!”
Rey rolled her eyes at him. “C’mon, Poe, it’s all classified.” She giggled when she saw Poe’s slack jawed expression.
“C’mon, you can’t leave me hanging like that,” Poe groans.
Rey smiled a wide, innocent smile and went back to her research.
Poe stared at her for a moment before deciding that she wasn’t going to say anything else and going back to his paper; adding in the changes she suggested.
A few hours passed in silence as they worked. They were both startled when Finn came to take over the info desk at six.
“Hey, Rey,” Finn said as he walked up to the desk. “Didn’t know you worked here too.”
Rey, who had started nodding off on her laptop, smiled tiredly. “Nope, just making friends.”
Poe smiled as he collected his things. “You headed out?” he asked Rey as she stood and stretched.
“Yeah,” she said, a muscle in her neck popping. “I should get a few hours sleep before this test tonight.”
“Can I walk you home?” he asked as they began walking away from the desk. “I mean, if it’s not weird,” he added, awkwardly. He could hear Finn guffawing behind him. Discretely, Poe held his hand behind his back and flipped him the bird without taking his eyes off Rey.
“That would be nice, I'm in McCabe Hall,” she said, rubbing at her eye as they walked. “Fair warning though, I might fall asleep walking.”
“Eh,” Poe shrugged as they passed through the front doors of the library. “We’ve all been there.”
Rey let out a slightly hysterical laugh as her hand slid through Poe’s elbow and she leaned her head on his shoulder. “Just make sure I don’t run into any trees or anything.”
Poe looked down at her, trying not to let a blush rise to his cheeks. Her eyes were closed and she was humming something as they walked down the empty street. “Sure thing,” he said as they paused at an intersection. He'd figure out how to ask her out when she was conscious. At least now he had her phone number. Maybe he'd actually manage it without putting his foot in his mouth. As they passed the parking garage Poe sighed and looked around at the nearly deserted street, wishing he could freeze this moment with this beautiful girl forever.
**Author's Note:**
> So what'd you think?
>
> -Jumana |
b913dfcab2b54e949c0016077f3bfb76 | ['5e789a885440421a9a2e37dd306ca6e5'] | He's well asleep by the time the clock strikes midnight.
Many miles away in the outskirts of town, stay a young couple in a small house. With a close to four years age gap, many people assume they're simply roommates or best friends, but there's something much more buried under the friendly smiles and mischievous words.
Luhan works as an accountant in one of the major bank chains while Jongin goes to university and works part-time at the supermarket just a few blocks down from their modest home. They had met at Jongin's workplace and had hit it off almost instantly. A year later sees Jongin moving in with Luhan, and they save up their precious minute every day for a kiss and a brief bout of cuddling.
They've never had the opportunity to do more, because they simply can't afford to buy time grants. But they're content, oddly enough in today's society, to just be with one another, despite the significant space between them whenever they share the couch. They sleep in the same room but on different beds, and when they happen to brush against each other in the morning as they stumble into the bathroom, neither consider it time wasted.
Luhan sends Jongin to the bus stop and bids him goodbye with a declaration of love that Jongin blushes at but returns nonetheless. HIs friends tease him good-naturedly on the bus, and Jongin basks in their words.
An hour later sees Luhan leaving for work – very monotonous work – seated in his trusty desk chair, behind his trusty desk and pads of his fingers poised over his not-so-trusty keyboard. He works 54 hours a week but always makes it home in time to cook dinner (or attempt to, at the very least). On Sundays, they lounge about at home, one splayed out on the floor and one on the carpet, switching ever so often. They'd feed each other ice cream, sometimes cake, and they'll laugh until the sun sets.
They're not unhappy whatsoever; in fact, they're probably a couple of the happiest people in the city. Their lives are simple, considering, and they never would've thought that it might get shaken up one day.
Until Jongin bumps into someone – quite literally – during work.
"I'm so sorry!" Jongin exclaims, immediately falling to his knees in order to pick up the customer's scattered goods. Dropping them quickly back into the basket, he straightens and offers the handles to the customer – who hasn't spoken a word since their collision.
"I'm really sorry," Jongin apologises once more.
"That's alright," the customer says, voice a little rough. It contrasted greatly with the smoothness of his skin and lips, Jongin dazedly thinks. Jongin smiles and bows, and the customer continues on his way. As the customer lines up to cash out, Jongin turns and heads towards the employee's break room – he stops halfway when he realises that they had collided. Made physical contact.
Managing to suppress a wail, Jongin lifts his arm and takes a look at his wrist.
He still has his full minute. But that can't be right, Jongin thinks, we most definitely touched. Pausing, Jongin wets his lips before turning and sprinting back towards the checkout area.
The customer's just stepping out of the door, the bag of products safe in his hands when Jongin catches up with him.
"Excuse me," Jongin pants, "I was wondering if your time had –"
"No, it didn't," comes the reply. "Yours didn't either, right?"
"Yeah," Jongin says. "But it doesn't make any sense? We touched, didn't we, when –"
"Yes we did," the customer says, interrupting him once more. "But you touched _me_. That's the difference." The customer inclines his head in farewell and joins the neat line of pedestrians walking down the road. Jongin gapes after him, stunned.
A neo-noir psychological thriller film is blaring out of the speakers that are placed an exact metre away from both sides of the widescreen television. Sehun sits on the matching black couch, eyes trained on the screen but not really seeing, feet crossed at the ankles as he slouches just a little. Today is his free day – no clients, no phone calls (he took the receiver off the cradle), no obnoxious sounds that he's always forced to make. It's his secretary's free day too, so it's just Sehun and the actors with their faces plastered across the big screen.
Sehun's gaze slides from the film all the way across to the open dining area where a lone bottle of wine sits on the mahogany table. There's no glass next to it or near it. Thin lips curl into a subtle version of a sneer as Sehun recalls the day he stepped out to purchase that very bottle of wine. The employee at the store had a look of complete incredulity after their minor incident – a look that Sehun's both sick and amused by at the same time.
A woman's severed head flashes across the screen but Sehun remains unfazed. Standing, he strides across the carpeted marble floor and into the kitchen. A half minute later, he emerges with a wine opener in his hands. The cork rolls somewhere under the table not too soon after.
With the swell of the wine glass' bowl sitting comfortably in the palm of his hand, Sehun sinks back into the cushions of the couch and watches through flat eyes as the protagonist fires off five shots in a row into a murder suspect's face.
The break room always smells a little like old gym socks mixed with cheap lavender air mist, but Luhan's almost completely immune to the scent. Having been an employee at the bank for over three years, Luhan is able to sink eager teeth into his homemade sandwiches day after day as a good majority of his colleagues grimace and gag every few minutes throughout their lunch break. | 97fc84aef1f34c73b64d0727515547e2 | ['5e789a885440421a9a2e37dd306ca6e5'] | Stepping into line, Sehun watches the teenager in front of him pay for a six-pack of beer. Setting the two bottles of wine down onto the counter, Sehun reaches into his pocket for his wallet. The teenager takes his change, his pack of beer, and leaves without a word.
"Good evening, did you find everything you need–"
"Good evening, did you find everything you need–"
Jongin chokes on air and nearly spits in Sehun's face out of shock. Sehun's eyes flick down to Jongin's name-tag, lingers for a couple of seconds, and smoothly returns to Jongin's face.
"I assume you've figured out what I am and what I do," Sehun says, tone casual yet flat.
He receives a wordless nod in response. The scanner beeps as Jongin swipes the barcode of a bottle over the bright red laser. Sehun pays silently, handing a credit card over and keying in his PIN without so much as a glance to the keypad. Jongin attempts to hide part of his face with overgrown bangs as he packs the bottles of wine into a bag.
"You interest me," Sehun says vaguely, each syllable enunciated perfectly. "So does your boyfriend."
Jongin looks up at that, more out of surprise than anything else. A perfectly shaped eyebrow rises just the slightest and a name card is pressed down onto the shiny surface of the countertop.
"My address. Come over any time."
With that, Sehun slips his credit card back into his wallet, picks up his bag of wine, and leaves. The wine bottles clink against each other slightly, but that's all the noise Jongin is able to pick up and register before Sehun is out the door and no longer visible from his station.
The name card sits right next to the scanner, edge parallel to the side of the counter. The surface is pristine, the material of the card glossy. Jongin picks it up and slides it into his back pocket.
Sehun's draped across his settee when the intercom buzzes. Static crackles for a brief moment before the saccharine voice of his secretary fills the room.
"Mr. Oh? I've got a young couple here to see you. They don't have a reservation; should I let them in?"
The base of a wine glass meets the surface of a marbled side table as Sehun sits upright.
"Let them in."
"Hello," Sehun says amicably, tugging on the sleeves of his worn-in hoodie. His eyes land on Luhan's face.
"What's your name?"
Luhan looks up from where his eyes were trained on the cuffs of Sehun's hoodie and wets his lips.
"Luhan."
The corner of Sehun's mouth quirks but no more words are uttered. Turning, he grabs his glass of wine and drains it. His footsteps are soft against the smooth surface of the flooring as he disappears into the kitchen – the sounds of water and the clinking of glass against a drying rack reaches Jongin and Luhan's ears soon after.
Heavy, invisible cotton balls are forming in Luhan's mouth and Jongin's not exactly better off. They stand shoulder to shoulder, the sleeves of their shirts brushing where their skin can't. Luhan's eyes are focused on how the hem of Sehun's hoodie hits his hipbones, whereas Jongin's busy following the movement of Sehun's hands as he wipes down the counter.
The glow of the lights bounce off marble tiles, hits the curve of Sehun's feet, and Sehun's skin looks even lighter than usual. Jongin chews the inside of his lip.
"Didn't really think you'd come," Sehun says, pulling out a chair by the dining table and settling down on it.
"Really," Luhan utters, the question hidden somewhat in his intentionally flat tone.
"Really," Sehun confirms. "So why'd you come?"
Jongin blinks and looks to Luhan for answers. Luhan frowns, and Sehun laughs.
"It's okay. I know why you're here. It's why every single person I give my card to comes. There's a reason why I'm not in jail – as I'm sure you know."
There's a soft scuffling sound as Jongin shifts his weight from his left foot onto his right.
"So," Sehun continues, brusque. "Ever had sex?"
Jongin colours and Luhan coughs.
"I'll take that as a no. Come, follow me." Rising, Sehun walks around the settee and into his business room. The couple hesitates but ends up following anyway.
"Take a seat," Sehun says, waving to the enormous bed.
When they've lowered themselves onto the mattress, Sehun runs fingers through his hair and speaks up.
"Let's talk business, yes?"
"What business?"
"For all of our sakes, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," Sehun sighs. "You know very well what you want and what I can provide. Now, we can do this in two ways. I can service each of you individually, or together. What would you like?"
"Why did you give me your card?" Jongin blurts.
Sehun gazes at him curiously. "I figured you two would need my services sooner rather than later. You're both in your primes, you know. It's hard to keep those desires under control for an extended period of time. A minute is worth nothing in terms of intimacy, as I'm sure both of you know." His eyes spark. "And you're both rather cute, I must say. A nice contrast to my usual customers." A drip of acidity hits the last few words of his sentence, and Sehun clears his throat. "So? Decision?"
Jongin seems completely flustered, but Luhan's oddly quiet.
With every pregnant second that ticks by, the ghost of a smile that was originally present on Sehun's lips begins to deepen and spread. By the time Luhan is ready to answer Sehun's question, a full out grin perfectly complements the sharp angles on Sehun's cheekbones.
"Let's do it."
Brusque, to the point, and seeping with absolute need.
"Don't be nervous," Luhan whispers into Jongin's ear, lips an inch away and barely parted. "We deserve this." |
0273f265ac34439694ee83618e63da99 | ['5e7ee45a03ac4352a9e668a924e83b63'] | Mia hid in the corner as her cousin tore paper from his gifts, having received a second TV, a brand new computer and a racing bike. When she thought about it, Mia couldn’t understand why Dudley should want a racing bike as he was very fat and hated exercise, unless it involved chasing and persecuting some poor unfortunate. He’d never hit Mia, mainly because he would never catch her, but also because she was a girl. She could only dread the day he realised no one would care if he did catch her.
He’d broken her glasses six months ago- an _ accidental _ football to the face which broke them straight in two, but Mia had been handed a roll of duct tape for her glasses and a bag of frozen peas for her busted nose and that was that.
Aunt Petunia had disappeared into the hallway at some point with a phone call, and had suddenly reemerged, ash-faced. Throwing a glare at Mia in the corner - she was supposed to be on standby in case Dudders wanted anything - Petunia’s face fell as she turned to her husband.
“Mrs Figg’s broken her leg, she can’t take her.”
“We could call Marge?”
“Don’t be silly, Vernon, she hates the child.”
“What about-”
“No, she’s in Majorca.”
“And-”
“There’s no choice, Vernon,” Petunia sighed, shaking her head.
Mia noticed Dudley’s face scrunching up to her left, along with the bubbling excitement deep in her stomach. The former she ignored, the latter she tried to control.
“Alright,” Vernon sighed as Dudley began to wail. “But she stays in the car.”
-
Aside from having to share the backseat with Dudley and his insufferable right-hand-man, Piers Polkiss, Mia quite enjoyed her journey to the zoo. A motorbike had zoomed past them at one stage, and she’d been able to relive her dream of a flying motorbike.
They arrived safe and sound, Dudley and Piers immediately running off with thoughts of lions, elephants, and ice cream. Mia sat soundly in the car as Uncle Vernon frowned in the window at her, noticing a few concerned mothers passing by, confused as to why the child remained.
“C’mon, out,” he grunted, throwing the door open for her. “People are staring.”
With another huff and grunt, he paid for her admittance, and soon Mia found herself in the middle of the reptile house. She scarcely believed her luck as her uncle once more abandoned her in favour of Petunia, who stood admiring her son from a short distance away. It wasn’t often Mia was brought out. In fact, aside from for school she couldn’t remember when she was last brought anywhere. She was often met with the excuse that ‘strange things’ happened around her, but aside from accidentally turning a teacher’s hair blue once, she couldn’t really figure what her aunt and uncle had meant. She scratched that back of her neck as she thought, feeling soft hairs against her fingers. Her hair had been chopped short only last week, courtesy of her aunt and the kitchen scissors. Surely it couldn’t have grown that much already?
Mia glanced around the room of glass cases, seeing Dudley and his friend persecuting some poor Burmese snake. Dudley pounded once, twice, three times on the glass, yelling at the poor creature to move.
“He’s boring,” he groaned to a nodding Piers, who was eyeing a small boy at another exhibit. The poor boy was asthmatic, taking a moment to catch his breath before joining his family. Piers’ specialty was breaking inhalers, Mia recalled, and it was a talent he was very proud of.
The two slinked off after their new prey, and Mia made her way to the snake Dudley had been harassing. She leaned against the railing and sighed, her breath fogging up the glass.
“Sorry about him,” she said quietly to the snake, who lay with its head down on the ground. “He doesn’t understand what it’s like to be stuck doing the same thing everyday, does he?
“Can you understand me?” she whispered, swearing she’d seen the snake bob its head up and down, as if nodding in agreement. “Sorry, just, I’ve never really spoken to a snake before.”
The boa constrictor held eye contact, drawing Mia in, even if this was only a figment of her imagination. “You’re from Burma, aren’t you?” she asked, leaning in a bit further. “Is it nice there?”
The snake shook its head, gesturing to a sign which read _ “BRED IN CAPTIVITY” _ . Mia nodded apologetically. “Me too,” she shrugged. “I never knew my parents eith-”
Without warning, she was on the floor, her glasses thrown away from her head. Blind as she was, she could still make out the shape of a blonde pig gawking at her snake, and heard the cries of “Mummy! Daddy! Come look, I made the snake move!” as she fixed her spectacles back in place.
Mia felt something fiery inside as she glared at her cousin. It happened in an instant, though. One moment, Dudley was standing banging on the glass, the next he was landing in the pond of the snake’s display as it made its escape out of the display. She was at a loss for words, but couldn’t help bursting out laughing as the snake slithered past. She was certain it said “ _ Thanksss _ ” as it went, to which she could only reply “Any time!”, although she wasn’t sure what exactly she’d done to help.
Dudley stood up in the tank and tried to get out, but somehow the glass had reappeared. As a bewildered Piers and a screaming Petunia hit the glass, he burst into tears once more. From her spot on the ground, Mia could feel Uncle Vernon’s eyes boring into her head.
“ _ You _ ,” he growled, raising one sausage finger at the young girl. “You did this!” | abced4258566463fa52ce5e07bbe3ea1 | ['5e7ee45a03ac4352a9e668a924e83b63'] | The first sight that meets him as he unboards in Hogsmeade is a large Dark Mark spray-painted on the station wall. Harry’s blood runs cold, his eyes wide as the two men painting it over nod at him and promise it’ll be fixed “before the wee ‘uns arrive, Misser Po’er, dun’t worry”. He appreciates the thought, but the fact that this was now appearing in the heart of magical Britain, so close to the school, is hard to process.
The thestral carriage he grabs stops just outside the main door of the school and a collection of House Elves race out to help him with his case. Enchanted brooms swirl about with last-minute adjustments for the oncoming students as the battered watch on his wrist informs Harry that it's half four and the older students should be arriving within the next hour. Panic begins to rise in the back of his throat as he wonders whether the painters will he finished by their arrival. He dreads to think how that would impact a crowd of eleven-year-olds.
It’s quiet for now, though, and he takes the opportunity to wander up to his quarters.
-
Flitwick is all too eager to introduce their newest faculty members while they wait for the students to file into the Great Hall. Harry and Neville stand together to the side, cautiously watching as the latest additions smile awkwardly.
All-told, they’re not entirely sure what to make of them. Stefan Ainsley is young and cocky, too brash for Harry’s liking, and Neville’s remark that he seems to have taken a leaf from Lockhart’s book causes him to choke on his pumpkin juice.
Tully is cold and clever, questions in her eyes and magic in her fingers. Harry had often heard rumours of _ odd _ teaching methods in Airmead , but he’d never met a Tara native before. He’s wary of her until she mentions her neighbour, Declan Quigley- one of the beaters of the members of the famed 1994 Irish team- and suddenly Harry’s a fan.
The first years are led into the hall by Professor Kowalska, and Harry can’t help but snicker at the few sitting students who swoon as she passes. He recognises a few noses, a couple of nervous smiles as the new children file out and await the famed ceremony.
The crinkled old hat sits atop the same wooden stool it had sat on for the past hundred years. This ceremony, Harry had learned in recent years as a teacher, was a singular thing, and no other school dealt with sorting in even vaguely the same way. As the Hat reels back to begin its song, Harry sees Ru wobbling in the middle of the crowd, wide-eyed and green-faced. He worries as the song begins.
_ Oh, I’ve seen so many faces, _
_ Seen so much time gone by. _
_ I’ve seen such falls and graces, _
_ I wouldn’t bat an eye. _
_ You children stand before me, _
_ Afraid of what’s to come. _
_ You think I’m sad and ugly, _
_ But wonders, I have some. _
_ I see inside your head, you see, _
_ To wonders deep and dark. _
_ To learn which house you should belong, _
_ Though my choice you may find stark. _
_ Be it Gryffindor, so brave and bold, _
_ A home of those so strong. _
_ Branded in their red and gold, _
_ They scarce see if they’re wrong. _
_ Perhaps Slytherin is home to you, _
_ Where cunning matters so. _
_ Ideas in their bones so true _
_ And ambitions never low. _
_ Or Ravenclaw, with brains so bright _
_ Where thoughts and dreams run wild. _
_ Mayhaps you’ll find your cause and fight _
_ As your mind is beguiled. _
_ And maybe it’s good old Hufflepuff, _
_ the home of those so true. _
_ Be good, be kind, be tough, they say, _
_ But is this the place for you? _
_ I let you wonder all these things as something else goes on. _
_ You see, my dears, we find ourselves nearing chaotic war. _
_ These times, there’s those with minds so dark who feel so called upon. _
_ No reason for their prejudice, just hatred at their core. _
_ So I’ll urge you to be vigilant and help others to be strong. _
_ Such times as these we band together, and prove that we are more. _
_ So enjoy your time in this strange place, so old yet so brand new, _
_ So many faces it has seen, yet joyed to learn your face. _
_ Wherever you may find yourself, let magic guide you through, _
_ Brave, cunning, bright, and kind, you’ll surely earn your place. _
“I think it’s finally losing its touch,” Neville whispers as the hall claps politely.
“We will begin, _ więc _ ?” Kowalska calls as she steps gracefully towards the front. She’d put Fleur to shame, Harry thinks to himself, so tall and elegant in carefully tailored robes. Magda was a drastic change when brought in as McGonagall’s replacement, her grace and decadence a stark contrast to the latter’s practicality and sternness.
She clears her throat once, and a silence falls across the hall. Unfurling a scroll of parchment, she begins to call names, beckoning “Barrowman, Ingrid” forward, who comes as a mess of pointy elbows and oversized robes. She rubs anxiously at a patch on her forearm as she sits, and within a second the hat bellows “ _ HUFFLEPUFF!” _ and a new class of Hogwarts begins. |
b3f50ee240ed402ebf6f871844267f2a | ['5e802d08e9fd4dfbab2fe2cfb75f4c79'] |
Jackson Square - Staring At A Painting
"You look beautiful, love". Klaus said as he came to halt in front of her. It was true, she was wearing a green dress that fell to her knees and hugged all her curves. He had asked her to go on a date with him and she had told him she would meet him directly after her shift.
"Thanks. You clean up pretty nice too". She told him with a smile that managed to light up her entire face. They were standing in Jackson Square, the place where they had their first ever conversation. Even then, he recalled, she had understood him, and yet not said a word of it. "So, where are we going?"
"It's a surprise."
"Klaus.."
"Yes, Camille?" He loved saying her name, he knew she preffered Cami, but he preferred Camille.
"I hate surprises." He pursed his lips to suppress a smile.
"I assure you, love, you'll like this one."
"Alright fine, lead the way." He slipped his hand into her soft one, intertwining their fingers together. He briefly wondered if he had ever trusted anyone to such a degree before.
They walked down the street to their destination. She was slightly behind him, not knowing where they were going. The street was filled with tourists and locals alike, painters and musicians lining the street, the smell of food in the air, the sound of jazz and people mingling around. Not for the first time, Klaus marveled at the beauty of New Orleans.
Slowly they started leaving most of the crowd behind and walked into a more silent place, the music and sounds of the city fading in the background. He looked at his companion to see that she was looking alternatively in front of her and above her. Then suddenly she looked at him.
She spoke up, her voice, like music to his ears, warming his dead heart to its very core. "You should've told me there was going to be so much walking, I wouldn't have worn heels."
"No need to fret love, we've reached our destination." Their destination was a garden that stood at the end of the street. He led her inside, there were lights adoring trees which flanked a footpath. At the end was a clearing where a table for two was set and waiters were milling about. That walked to the table and he pulled out her chair for her, before sitting in the chair opposite her.
"Wow, you've really outdone yourself, haven't you?" she said placing her hands in the table and leaning forward. He was lounging in his chair, his dirty blonde hair combed back, his leather jacket replaced by a suit, a black shirt rather than his usual t-shirt.
"Well, what can I say love, only the best for the first time we go out."
"This certainly is the best." There was a bottle of champagne in the centre of the table, which was covered in a white, silk cloth. "So, I see you've finally started taking fashion advice from Elijah."
He gave a slight chuckle, his dimples on full display, his blue grey eyes shining with mirth, and her insides warmed, she wished this scene would repeat over and over, because this was the Klaus she knew he wanted to become.
"Yes, I thought it was about time." He said jokingly, he was rewarded with a smile from her. "So, how was your day been?"
"The usual. How about you?"
"You know, Camille", he smirked as he heard her heart speed up, "I feel we always talk about me when we meet,-"
"That's because we do."
"But you aren't my therapist today, you're my date. So, let's talk about you." It was at that time, the waiter standing near the edge of a table came with soup.
"You already know a lot about me." Her face held a soft smile as she spoke and he leaned forward.
"You know that isn't true, love. For instance, I don't even know which university you attended. You only came to town a few days before I did."
"I went to Stanford, actually."
"I should've guessed."
"Why?" The question fell from her lips, before she thought it through, it was written on her face.
"Well, you are intelligent." Her face flushed under his gaze and he felt his own heart beating hard, sure she knew just how clever she was. "After all, you did figure me out."
"I haven't". He looked into her green eyes in surprise. "You're too complicated to understand."
He smirked at her proudly as if he had achieved something difficult. "A sentiment I find I can return."
"Really?"
"You are the one of the only people, outside of my family, who has stayed after knowing everything about me. That is rather commendable, comsidering the things I have done. You know all of that, and yet you choose to stay."
"I stay because I see the goodness in you. More than that, I care about you." Now his heart was in overdrive, of course he knew she cared about him, she had almost died on multiple occasions just by being associated with him. He could feel the emotion building and blinked before looking away.
"The soup is pretty nice. Did you compel the best staff of the city?" She did that, he realised, she changed the topic if she ever saw he was too uncomfortable but she didn't let him get away with anything she thought was wrong. No one did such simple things for him anymore.
"Actually, I haven't. I, of all people know your distaste of compulsion. I can still feel the sting of your slap."
"Well, you were an ass. Besides, you had told me you had just killed someone."
"Well, to be fair, it was Elijah who had killed Agnes. After all, she was responsible for your brothers death, not to mention she had just attempted to kill my daughter." | 4eedd93daafd4693b5e9e0c5ddc9cceb | ['5e802d08e9fd4dfbab2fe2cfb75f4c79'] | “I- yes. Yes, it’s just that….he’s…um...uh...young!” He almost screamed the last word and his mother looked amused.
“He’s over 18, isn’t he?” Dig himself into a bigger hole or project himself as a sexual predator in front of his _mum_?
“Yeah, of course.”
“Then I don’t see what the problem is. You aren’t very old either. Bring him with you.”
“But what about-“
“Your grandparents? They got past racism, didn’t they? Well, they’ll just have to get past homophobia too. I have to go Scorpius, Draco and I have some errands to run.” He was perfectly aware that this meant his parents had booked a presidential suite in a hotel for doing unspeakable things to each other, but he wasn’t about to voice it.
He had enough emotional scars, thank you. He remembered the one time he had walked in on them; he shuddered.
“Alright. Are you staying for dinner or are you leaving tonight?”
“We’re leaving this evening. We can stay if you want to see Draco.”
“No, it’s fine, I’ll see him next week. Besides, we met just two days ago.”
“Okay, as you wish. I’ll you see next Wednesday.”
Scorpius got up to escort his mother out and hugged her before she left.
“Anna.”
“Why are you screaming like that? People will get the wrong idea.” She said smirking at him and entered his office.
“I need a boyfriend.” He said without preamble, moving back inside his office, almost missing the look of amusement on his secretary’s face.
“Okay, so go to a pub and flirt. I can teach you how to.”
“That’s not what I- I know how to flirt!” He exclaimed in indignation.
“Of course you do.”
“Anna.”
“Okay, okay, I get it; you’re a sensitive little snake.” He glared at her. “Okay, what do you need?”
“My mother wants me to bring my boyfriend home next week.”
“And the problem is?” He continued to stare at her. “Look, just hire an escort.” He felt his jaw drop for what felt like millionth time that day.
“You want me to hire an escort? Isn’t that illegal?” She frowned.
“Not a prostitute, Scorpius, an escort. A male escort. A perfectly _legal_ male escort.”
“Right. And where will I find one?”
“You won’t. I will. Well, to be honest, I already have.” His head snapped up.
“You have?”
“It’s just this guy I had hired a couple months ago. He’s really hot and he’ll sign a non-disclosure agreement.”
“Why did you need an escort?” She cleared her throat.
“That’s my personal business.”
“Alright. But, isn’t he straight?”
“Nope, he’s bisexual. Here” She thrust her phone into his hand.
“What?”
“His number. Just talk to him once. There’s no point in trying to find anyone else. You have little more than a week and most escorts are booked weeks, if not months beforehand. I’ll text you the number.”
“Anna.”
“Yes?”
“How do you know so much about escorts?” She shrugged and left.
“Wait!”
“Yes?”
“What is his name?”
“Albus Potter.”
“Thanks.”
* * *
Scorpius did not know why he insisted Mr. Potter so much. He could get a better looking escort with the amount of money he had, no matter what Anna said, but there was something in that voice. It was unsure, yet confident. Scorpius had never faced this particular combination before and he had a feeling that he probably wouldn't in the future either. There was something vulnerable yet, strong about him. Scorpius was officially intrigued.
He could not wait till Wednesday, now all he had to do was cancel whatever appointment he had on that day.
3. Chapter 3
Albus was sitting in the back of a cab that he was taking to the Mandarin Oriental Hyde Park. To meet Scorpius Malfoy.
He was intrigued by the suave and sexy voice he had heard on the phone almost two days ago. So for the last two days, he was the only thing Albus could think about. He knew that Scorpius – Mr. Malfoy would be a rich client. Moreover, he wanted to take Albus somewhere for a week, even when Albus had turned down his offer. So, why did he insist?
“We’re here.”
“Thanks.” Albus said paying the driver. He made a move to open the door and saw that it was already opened by the valet. He smiled at the man before getting out.
He had decided against bringing his own car as he knew that it would create some embarrassment for him. He knew that this meeting was going to be unexpected and did not want to add to it by listening to some posh woman gossiping about his position in _this_ society. Besides, there was no need to make his profession any more obvious than it would be.
He looked at the towering building that was the hotel and had to consciously make an effort to keep his jaw from dropping. He was glad he wore dress shoes instead of sneakers. He walked inside and walked to the reception.
“Good evening sir, how may I help you?” The manager was a man in his late forties, with a balding head and bulging eyes, almost as if he consumed unnecessary amounts of alcohol on a daily basis.
“I’m here to meet Mr. Malfoy.”
“Ah, you must be Mr. Potter. Yes, Mr. Malfoy will be here momentarily. But he has a reservation in the Rosebery Lounge, you can wait for him there if you’d like to.”
“Sure.” |
184e6211a0a84346a7f8801d5662497b | ['5e8a6078fd2e4037a6538580b09812a2'] | Keiji decides to go straight to the truth. “I think I like someone.”
“Oh.” Koushi says. “Uh, tell them?”
“Yeah, but _how_?” Keiji considers himself to be rational and smart, but never in his life has he been this lost and confused.
“Talk to them?” Koushi sounds like he’s about to laugh and Keiji huffs. “It’s 2016, Keiji. You’re in your 20s, we aren’t in high school where you need to write it in a pink letter and put it in his locker.”
“Yeah, but I’ve never liked— _his_?!” Keiji chokes halfway. “How—How’d you know he’s a _he_?”
“You aren’t really that slick, Keiji.” Koushi’s voice turns soft and Keiji sighs. “Don’t worry; I won’t tell anyone.”
“How do I tell Koutarou that I like him?” Keiji says it like he’s a child and he looks down at his arm, where Koutarou’s drawing of him is clear and taunting him.
“Koutarou has always been an honest man.” Koushi answers him. “I think the feeling’s mutual. Don’t hesitate to tell him how you feel. I know Koutarou better than anyone.”
“Yeah…” Keiji traces the drawing absentmindedly. “I guess, thanks, Koushi.”
“Good.” Koushi chortles. “Now, get some sleep, all right? We don’t need the boss’ assistant going crazy about the company’s greatest artist.”
“It seems to have already happened, Koushi.” Keiji confirms. “But thank you, really. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.” Koushi says. “Now, get some sleep. And get yourself a boyfriend.”
_A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature_
_to stop speech when words become superfluous._
— **Ingrid Bergman**
It was maybe _weeks_ before Keiji manages to get past the nervousness and to ‘man the fuck up’.
They were at the park again, a comfortable silence between them as they watch the kids. Keiji’s hands were in his lap as Koutarou hums a song.
It never really occurred to Keiji how he would even confess. He thought of lots of ways—a letter? A message? Message in a bottle? Would he fill a jar full of notes and give it to Koutarou? There were lots of ideas—bad ideas.
“Koutarou.” Keiji’s voice is soft and he rests his hand on the bench, not even noticing Koutarou’s hand. His hand rests on top of Koutarou’s and he quickly snatches it away with a blush.
“U-Uh,” he stutters. “S-Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Koutarou grins. “What is it, Keiji?”
_Oh my god_.
“Koutarou.” Keiji speaks again. “What—What do you see me as?”
“What do I see you?” Koutarou repeats, brows furrowed. “I see you as a friend, of course!”
Keiji ignores the slight pain in his chest when he hears the word friend but he ignores it with a nod. “All right.” He says in a small voice, wanting to curl up.
_He can never like me_.
“Why?” Koutarou asks before his eyes lighten up. “What about me?!”
“What about you?”
“What do you see me as?”
_What do I see you as?_ Keiji hums in his head. _I see you as the brightest person in the room. I see you as someone who makes me laugh the most, and someone who I’m not embarrassed to laugh the most in front of. I see you as someone special; someone special in my heart._ Keiji’s heart skips a beat as he turns to look at Koutarou with a tinge of pink in his cheeks.
“I see you as someone I want to be my boyfriend.” He accidentally says out loud and his eyes widen, as well as Koutarou’s.
_Oh my God._
“Oh my God.” He repeats his thoughts. “I am so sorry. I’ve probably made our friendship awkward. Please forget I ever said that.”
“Keiji.”
“Oh gosh, this is so unprofessional of me? We’re literally workmates. Oh my God, I’m gonna retire so that it won’t be—”
“Keiji!”
Hands are cupping his face and Keiji finds himself face-to-face with Koutarou. Their noses are almost touching and he can smell the yakiniku in Koutarou’s breathe. He finds himself not minding it.
( _You are absolutely gross_. His mind scolds him.)
Keiji squeaks out and his hands shake slightly. His eyes maintain contact with Koutarou’s and he takes a deep breath.
“I…” Koutarou speaks out and Keiji’s chest feels a little tighter. “I… like you, too.”
Keiji’s lips part a little and he doesn’t miss the way Koutarou’s eyes flicker to it before turning back to his eyes. “Y-You do?”
“Of course I do.” Koutarou whispers back. “I’ve liked you ever since I realized you like J-Rock.”
“Really?” Keiji breathes out a laugh and his chest finally feels lighter. Koutarou nods with a grin, hands caressing Keiji’s face.
Koutarou bumps his nose against Keiji’s and chuckles. “Hey, Keiji?”
“Yes, Koutarou?” Keiji bumps his nose against Koutarou’s again and savors the way Koutarou’s cheeks go pink.
“I like you.” Koutarou grins and Keiji stifles a laugh.
“I know.” He whispers. _And I have never felt so thankful to know it_.
“And you like me.”
“I know.”
“So,” Koutarou drawls out, “can I kiss you?”
“Yes.” Keiji breathes out. He doesn’t miss the way Koutarou rubs his nose against his for a moment before his lips touch Keiji’s.
**[text: Koutarou]** Since that we’re together now
**[text: Keiji]** Yes?
**[text: Koutarou]** Is it appropriate to put a heart beside your name?
**[text: Keiji]** …
**[text: Koutarou]** Is that a yes?
**[text: Keiji]** Yes, of course. :)
_You are my poem; you are all of my poems,_
_and far the most beautiful of all._
— **Octave Mirbeau**
**Author's Note:**
> please listen to all of the songs/albums in this fic pls i beg of u they need more love
>
> scream w me abt writer!akaashi and artist!bokuto + romcom bokuaka @ my tumblr lunajpg !! | 2e7910ef2dad42569dd43a3bfba0c405 | ['5e8a6078fd2e4037a6538580b09812a2'] | “Come on!” Allura was screaming at them and had probably taken thirty steps already. Lance is deeply confused. “Hurry! If we make it fast, we can buy coffee!”
“Ye-hes!” Lance cheers. “Come on, Keith!”
“I’m coming!” Keith grumbles, hands trying to fix Lance’s scarf around his neck, and yet failing.
“Oh my god.” Lance rolls his eyes. “Here let me.”
Keith pouts but stays still, staring at the way Lance ties the scarf around his neck. “I can never know how you all do it.”
“It’s literally so easy.” Lance replies. “Here, let me teach you.”
“ _Stop flirting_!” Pidge screams, rolling their eyes. “We’re gonna leave without you!”
“Sorry!” Lance screams back, taking Keith’s wrist and dragging him to Pidge. “Maybe later, I can teach you, my student!”
“No thanks, I’ll just check the internet.”
“Such ungratefulness for me.”
It turns out; the fortune house is literally just eight blocks away from Allura’s apartment.
“Are you sure this is the place?” Pidge asks, staring with doubt at the sketchy building.
“Of course!” Allura starts to walk in and Shiro follows her, a determined look on his eyes whilst staring at them.
“Don’t worry; this place is safe.”
“No offense, Shiro,” Lance makes a face when he sees a spider, “but what is your definition of safe?”
“Shut up, Lance.” Keith mutters, pushing him to walk faster and Lance scoffs, pretending to flip his hair.
“I have faith in my fortune, unlike _you_.”
Watching his friends get told of their fortune was rather amusing.
The first one was Allura.
“Oh, I see something beautiful from you.” The fortune-teller—an old woman whose face is covered by some kind of blanket—says whilst moving her hands above a crystal ball (a ball! Lance can’t believe it).
“Really?” Allura lights up and Coran nods with a soft smile on his face.
“Yes… Something good will happen to you this month… Appreciate your friends more, for something will happen surely.”
“What’s going to happen?” Allura gasps worriedly and everyone looks at each other with confusion.
“Something good, or bad, it might be,” she shrugs before pausing. “Will happen between your group. It is up to you, if you all will stay together.”
“That sure sounds reassuring.” Lance sarcastically says and Hunk elbows him in the stomach. “Ow!”
The next five minutes are spent on Allura asking about her fortune and Lance whispering puns in Shiro’s ear. (Shiro is not amused.)
“Oh, oh, I’m next!” Lance stands up when Allura is done and the woman look at him up and down.
“Of course. Sit down here, boy.”
“The names Lance, ma’am.” Lance grins and takes a seat in front of her. _I wonder what my fortune is. I hope I get a girlfriend_.
“You like autumn.” The woman suddenly says and Lance looks behind to his friends in shock. “And the ocean. Am I correct?”
“Uh,” Lance looks lost for a moment. “Yes, I guess.”
“School will be good to you this month.” She says and Lance lights up. “Really? Nice!”
“Does my family miss me?” the question flies out of Lance’s mouth before he even thinks twice and he feels red in his cheeks.
The woman looks up and there’s a small, soft smile on her lips. “Of course. I see that they are anticipating for your return. Oh…and you have someone special with you when you return.”
“Oh my god.” Lance gasps softly. “I’m gonna get a girlfriend?!”
“Rather the opposite,” the woman looks at Lance. “A boyfriend, perhaps? Is that all right with you?”
Lance looks behind and is met with Shiro’s questioning glance. “A boyfriend? I guess I’m alright with that. Do I know him?!”
“He is actually in your small circle of friends, Lance.”
What.
“What.” Lance reciprocates his thoughts. “ _Who_?”
“You don’t know?” the woman cocks her head to the side. “Your dear friend, Keith, is your soon-to-be boyfriend. I even see that you two complement each other very well.”
_Excuse me?_
“Uh, did I hear you correctly?” Lance asks in his most gentle voice. “Did you just say _Keith_?”
“Yes?” she replies with a tilt of the head. “Is Keith not the name of your friend? Him, with the brown scarf?”
_It’s amazing how that’s my scarf!_ , Lance thinks sarcastically. “I mean, yes, that’s my friend, Keith. But are you really sure? That Keith and I will be…” Lance swallows a breath. “ _Together_?”
“Yes.” The woman nods with a little bite of annoyance on her face. “How many times must I need to repeat it?”
“No!” Lance hastily replies. “I just… why?”
“Fate decides to put you two together.” She shrugs. “There is nothing more than that, which I can tell you. You must accept fate.”
“Uh, yeah,” Keith speaks up with a bit of annoyance laced in his voice. “How is that even real when we don’t even _like_ each other?”
“Yeah—hey!” Lance glares at Keith. “I’ll have you know, I’m likeable!”
“Keep telling yourself that, buddy.”
“What is that even—”
“Enough!” The woman shouts and Lance jumps. “Please don’t fight in my shop. The crystal ball does _not_ lie. Now, would you like to know more about your fortune?”
Lance looks embarrassed as he thinks about him and Keith being together. “Yes, of course, I’m sorry.”
“Alright,” she clears her throat. “As I was saying, you two will be together. I cannot say it any other way. You two are _destined_ to be together.”
“Destined?” Lance echoes. “That sounds…weird. But alright, can I ask what the others will ask? Or is that…not okay?”
The woman doesn’t speak for, like, two minutes and Lance _literally_ feels sweat trickle down his spine. “Yes. They are very supportive of you. They will help you two through your troubles—which is a _lot_. You have great friends, Lance.” |
53cb786ee77e4edaa42c6849d1211505 | ['5e913b3cebed42e6aaaa0d65704ccb1b'] | Starscream felt his Spark clench over the memory of what he'd done and said to his Conjunx. Metalhawk and Slipstream _did_ have good points concerning Skyfire, he wouldn't argue that, but he knew his mate far better than they did, since they'd never met him. They didn't know what he could be like when he got angry...Starscream had seen his temper in action, though (except for the one time during the war) not in his direction, thank Primus.
With luck, Skyfire would move on, something that deep down, Starscream knew he'd never be able to do...
_::We need to talk.::_
The unexpected comm. nearly made Starscream fall out of the sky. _What the fragging Pit?_
A quick scan around him soon revealed the source of the comm.: a very familiar navy blue jet just behind him and to the left. Once more, he grimaced. _I suppose I should have expected_ he'd _turn up_ , Starscream thought a little wearily, though in all honesty he'd believed the other jet had wanted to have nothing more to do with his former Trineleader after his release, given his own actions when _he'd_ gotten out. While he might have supported Starscream's leadership bid at the end, and had supported the surrender when the time came, they'd never really been friends. But given the gossip about his presence in Vos, perhaps it was no surprise Thundercracker was seeking him out. _Might as well see what he wants._ Opening his own link, he replied, _::Very well, Thundercracker. When and where?::_
_::Now, and that tower platform just a few nanokliks to the left::_ was the response. The terseness of the message told Starscream that Thundercracker was not in the mood for any argument.
Resigning himself to the inevitable, he ran a quick scan and located the platform that the other Seeker was referring to. He altered his direction and headed towards it, transforming and landing a klik later, his former Trinemate right behind him.
Starscream took a few steps towards the center of the platform, then turned around to face the other Seeker. Thundercracker just stood there staring at him, a stony expression on his face, optics unreadable, wings tensed, arms at his side with hands clenched into fists.
The tri-color jet frowned briefly. This stance was very unlike Thundercracker, as he knew from long observation that the navy jet usually didn't display his emotions so openly. Even in prison, he'd been very good at keeping his thoughts concealed. Not that he hadn't gotten angry, Starscream had seen the blue Seeker lose his temper before, but it was a rare occurrence and he usually displayed it in his words and tone, not physically.
Something warned Starscream he would need to tread carefully here.
Schooling his face into a neutral expression, he finally spoke. "Thundercracker," he greeted the other Seeker with a nod, keeping his tone as neutral as his features. "It's been a while."
"It has," Thundercracker answered, neither stance nor expression changing, but Starscream thought he detected an edge in the other mech's voice.
Starscream waited for his former Trinemate to continue, but after a few kliks had passed by in silence with no word coming from the navy jet, the tri-color found himself becoming slightly irritated. He had some lesson plans to go over and then he just wanted to curl up in his berth. He didn't have time to put up with a wingmate who'd apparently just called him out to glare at him instead of talking.
"What do you want, Thundercracker?" he finally asked, trying to keep the irritation from his voice.
Thundercracker just met his former Trineleader's gaze evenly. "Just wanted to find out for myself if the rumor was true." And this time, Starscream knew he wasn't imagining the anger he heard.
Raising a browridge, he replied, "Rumor? I suppose the one concerning the fact that I'd returned to Vos?"
"Yeah, that one," his Second Wing hissed, with a flash of his optics. "And the fact you were here for a few orns before anyone knew you were back."
_So that's it_ , Starscream thought with some surprise. Outwardly, though, he shrugged and said casually, "I didn't exactly hide my return, Thundercracker, considering the shuttle transport I took brought me straight to Vos' shipyard. Besides," he turned his face away to gaze out over the nearly rebuilt city, "my clan knew I was returning, and would have reported the upcoming event to the Winglord. I had no say in whether or not he announced my release and impending arrival to Vos."
And in any case, Starscream admitted quietly, he was kind of glad the Winglord hadn't. Given the mood he'd been in when he left Iacon, he hadn't really wanted to deal with big crowds there just to gawk at him. He'd simply wanted to get back to his family home and have some time to pull himself together before going out into public again.
Looking back at his wingmate, he continued, still idly, "If no one recognized me or could be bothered to make it known I was back, then that wasn't my problem, either."
_If looks could kill_ , Starscream thought as he watched his former Second Wing seemingly fighting an internal battle over whether or not he should hit him, judging by the way his arms were trembling and the rage in his optics.
In a way, it amazed him that Thundercracker was so angry with his silence. But then again...Maybe it shouldn't, he realized wearily. For all they'd never gotten along, they _had_ been Trine. They might not have agreed with him, but Skywarp and the jet in front of him hadn't walked away when they could have after Megatron's death. They'd stuck by him, for whatever reason, and Skywarp had died for his loyalty. | fcdebc195a8746f6832c37b27deab81c | ['5e913b3cebed42e6aaaa0d65704ccb1b'] | "May I ask why? Seeing as it isn't common practice for you to be willing to submit a report to an Ops agent. You usually avoid us if at all possible," the blue and white mech said wryly, a slight half-smile appearing on his face.
Starscream gave a small smile, but it didn't reach his optics, which still had that same grim expression. "Normally, that's true," he admitted, the smile fading away as fast as it came. "But this is different."
Something in Starscream's voice caught Mirage's attention and he straightened up in his seat. "How so?"
"This...has to do with my capture." Starscream paused a moment. "First, I have to ask. What did the reports say about what happened, if anything?"
Mirage was starting to get a bad feeling, and wasn't sure why. "The other members of the team said you were last seen fighting other Seekers," he said cautiously, knowing he shouldn't be sharing this information, and yet something was telling him that this was important. "Why?"
Starscream took several deep intakes before replying. "Because they weren't the only ones involved," he replied quietly. "There were others helping them."
That bad feeling became stronger. "Who? What happened?"
Starscream turned to stare at the wall in front of him. "I was fighting the Command Trine, as reported," he answered. "But it didn't take long for me to realize I was outmatched. When I realized this, I attempted to break away, only to be caught in an energy net launched by some mechs on the ground. I didn't realize who they were at first, but later, when I came to in that cell, I went over everything in my head. I ran the images of those mechs through my databanks and came up with a match."
"Starscream, who were they?" Mirage pressed, urgently now.
Starscream turned his head, met Mirage's optics, and spoke two words in reply: "The Constructors."
* * *
"That's what he said? You're sure?" Jazz asked, once Mirage had given his report.
Mirage nodded grimly. "Yes," he replied simply.
Jazz was silent for a moment as he leaned back in his seat, pondering what he'd been told. Starscream's story certainly confirmed his earlier suspicions that those sightings of Decepticons around Crystal City had been a trap of some kind, but at the same time, it also hinted that Crystal City was in danger.
If this was true...
He lifted his head up to face his subordinate. "What do ya think a' what he told ya?"
Mirage didn't hesitate. "I believe he's telling the truth, Jazz. The way his voice sounded, the matter of fact way he gave the information, his posture...there were no tells to indicate he was lying."
Jazz nodded slowly. "Fair 'nough." He leaned forward at his desk, steepling his arms and setting his chin on his hands. "But why request ya in particular ta tell the story ta? Why not me or Prime? We'd a' listened ta him."
Mirage was quiet for a moment. He'd wondered that himself, but once he'd thought about it, a very likely answer had struck him. "I suspect it is because he knew I lived in Crystal City, as he did for a time," the spy said finally.
The Ops Commander nodded. Mirage had told him about that meeting with Starscream the following day cycle, when he'd noticed something seemed off about the way the former noble was acting and questioned him about it. "Ya believe he thought it was more likely a fellow citizen would believe him first," was all he said in reply.
Mirage nodded once more. "It is likely, Jazz. And to be honest, even if I hadn't been watching his body language as he told me what happened, I would still have believed him."
Jazz frowned. "Why?"
Mirage sighed and finally sat down in the chair in front of Jazz. "It hasn't really been a secret in Crystal City that the Constructors have been given some of the least wanted building assignments for some time since before the war began, not to mention their living quarters were assigned to one of the worst areas of the city. The leaders choose to give more attention to Omega Supreme as the Guardian than they do to those who created it. I have no doubt that it has rankled and that they would have been more than willing to accept any offer Megatron gave them if it meant they could get some kind of payback."
Jazz tapped his fingers together thoughtfully. "We need ta tell Prime," he said after a klik. "Then we need ta look inta Starscream's story. Ah've still got a few contacts left in Crystal City. Ah'll get the word ta them ta see if they can find out what the Constructors have been up ta lately. Or at least find out who they've been meetin' with."
Mirage nodded. "And if they are traitors?"
"Then we deal with them," his commander said flatly. "Ah won't let another Simfur or Altihex happen if Ah can help it."
He stood up from his desk. "Ya go keep an optic on Screams. Ah don't like what ya said about the way he was lookin' at that datapad. Ah'll talk ta Prime."
Mirage nodded once more, rose from his seat, and left the room, the door closing quietly behind him.
As soon as the door shut, Jazz pressed a button on the right side of his desk, and a hidden console appeared.
He activated the link.
"Jazz ta Prime," he stated tersely.
The Autobot leader's face appeared on the console screen.
"Prime here. What do you have for me, Jazz?"
Jazz lowered his face a moment. When he looked up again, his expression was grim.
"Jazz?" Optimus Prime asked in a worried tone as he noted the saboteur's expression.
"Boss 'Bot, we got a problem..."
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Set one thousand vorns (or 83,000 years) following the events of the last chapter. |
85530fe999db4937868612d7c03d2c90 | ['5eaa139905c647e6b4c54bca83073ef7'] | Arthur continued to walk further and further from the campsite, staying as quiet as possible. It almost felt as if he was tracking an animal. If John was hiding from him, he was doing a damn good job, that’s for sure. This would have taken half the time if Arthur had of thought to bring Charles along. The trees around Horseshoe Overlook were thicker than most places Arthur had been, except maybe Tall Trees. They were tight together, too tight for a horse to manoeuvre its way through. He took note of that and continued to track John with what little evidence he had. A few broken branches from an obvious stagger here and there, but nothing solid. Footprints were everywhere, of all shapes and sizes and most likely from members changing shifts, so much so that they became too hard to differentiate. Arthur would have never admitted it either, but an hour into trying to find the man he simply started to wander aimlessly. He would have to stumble across John eventually. When Arthur did find something more than collateral damage, he crouched down and tilted his head, puzzled. It was John’s black denim jacket, something Arthur knew he would not have dropped without a fight. The man had it since he had been a kid, after all. Oversized for a twelve-year-old, but it was the first real thing he owned. Arthur picked it up and looked it over. Not so much as a rip from a fight or scuffle but more that it was simply slumped off. He draped it over his worn leather satchel and continued his path west.
“What in the hell are you up to, Marston…”
The old outlaw knew he was far from the camp, or at least in an unfamiliar part of the surroundings. He had either strayed too far, or the eerier night disorientated the poor thing. Cold mist started to roll in through the trees, filling up the ground like a quiet flood. It was another hour before tiredness and irritability set in. Arthur just wanted to go back, to curl up in his bed and sleep, but Abi would have killed him before he got the chance. He sighed and continued to roam through the trees. It was only when the hairs on the back of Arthurs neck prickled up, that his alertness came back. Arthur had no idea what time it was or where he had ended up. Somewhere with thick brambles and looming trees that seemed to stretch forever upwards. A howl rang through the pine forest, unbearably loud. He didn’t know why he was so surprised; a few feral wolves were nothing he couldn’t handle, and he was in their territory after all.
“Shit.” Arthur spat, rushing to tie his lamp to the leather cord of his bag as the howling became louder.
It sounded unlike anything he had heard before. Whatever was making that noise was not just loud, but it was deep, as if it were pissed off.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Arthur kept hissing to himself, loading the rifle as fast as shaking hands could.
Maybe it was a bad idea to have gone off alone without telling anyone, but how was he to know there was a maddened animal running rampage or that he was to grow so tired he ended up lost. It was probably a good thing however, for Arthur to find out. Can’t have something so terrible lurking within the shadowy fringe of the encampment.
More noises shot through the air like the cracking of a whip, but this time they were different. Shrieks and yelps of distress mixed with guttural growling and bone snapping put Arthur on edge. He was in danger, there was no doubt about it.
“Shit. Shit. Shit! Shit!” Gritting his teeth tightly.
Whatever was out there, it was bigger than any dog Arthur knew of. Three grey, crying wolves ran straight past him without a second glance. Something had scared them off, and not many things could do that. A bear, maybe. The thing was, was that bears did not howl.
“John! Wherever you are, you better get out of here quick smart. Come help me put whatever this thing is down!” Arthur shouted, angry and anxious.
“Goddamn it, Marston…”
The snarling had gotten louder again. The sound of tree branches cracking under weight reached Arthurs ears, but he could not figure out where it came from.
There. He saw them. Two glowing eyes in the middle of darkness. Not even the full moon was shedding any light on the beast in full, only reflected against the eyes in the distance.
“Found you… you son of a bitch…”, his finger itched to pull the trigger.
What Arthur saw next, he could not explain, not through sketch nor writing, because before the cowboy could even raise his trusted rifle and aim square between the eyes, it was already upon him. Running at full speed, as fast as a horse but with the agility of a couger. It dodged every pine and birch tree in its path snarling visciously as it did so, leaving a train of broken branches and scarred bark. It was a creature so comparable to a wolf one might think it was, from a distance. Instead, the size of it was at least twice that of Arthur, and could run with two or four of its limbs. The yellow of its eyes were even more piercing than they had been in the darkness yards away. Black, matted fur covered most of it, cascading in thick, greasy strands down from the head. Quickly noting where skin showed such as the palms and the chest, Arthur tried to comprehend what it was. It was human, but it also most certainly was not, and to that Arthur was speechless. The rifle frozen in his hands from simply being stunned. All of this was taken in in a matter of moments before the beast barrelled Arthur to the ground, pinning his arms to the cold forest floor, the gun scattering off to the side. Arthur yelped, the wind being knocked out of him within seconds and laid prone, his fall disturbing the cold mist. Struggling under the intense weight and strength of this man-wolf, Arthur could feel its hot, foul-smelling breath all over his face, and drool that dripped from savage fangs. Its human-like fingers curling around his biceps, piercing skin and drawing blood. Arthur winced at the pain, but not a sound escaped his quivering lips. It was snarling at him, the snout wrinkled in distain. Arthur almost wanted to shut his eyes and look away, or to lash out and yell and fight his way free. Instead, the only thing he could do was stare with morbid curiosity. He felt like a buck that had finally been caught by a predator, stunned by the impact of its mauling. Arthur may have set out to find John, but perhaps it was he who had really been the prey. The beast sniffed up and down Arthurs face and torso, as if to get the scent of its meal.
“Go on, you mangy mutt. Get it over with.” Arthur finally managed to croak out with what little air was getting into his lungs, what with the near seven-foot creature crushing his frame.
Arthur had to admit, if this was the way he was going to die, that was okay. Better than all the sorry folk dying of tuberculosis anyway. The hulking mass of fur and fang however, dropped its snarl at Arthurs voice, or perhaps even at the smell of him. Perhaps it was both. Or perhaps it was how the beast seemed perplexed at the denim jacket slumped over the leather satchel, as if it had memory of it. _ You remember the jacket, huh? You killed John? Is that it? Go on then, I want to see what hell is like. At least I’ll have company, _ Arthur thought to himself, adrenaline overtaking any sort of sudden grief.
It stared at him silently, aside from its heavy panting, and Arthur stared in turn, waiting for death. Its weight on Arthur never changing, but the hatred slowly dissipated from its face. Caution and weariness still plagued the beast, but whatever loathing it had for outlaw had left. Caution, weariness, curiosity and a hint of fear is what Arthur could see clouding its wide eyes. He noticed again the hair like fur falling from its head, ears twitching, listening to everything around them. Its yellowed eyes shifting at every small movement from trees and rodents, but always falling back onto Arthur with intensity, and the black denim. Morgan was more confused than anything, at the fact it stopped its attack. Was he already dead and _ this _ was hell? Being stuck forever under whatever this thing was? Dead or alive, Morgan noticed something that bothered him even more than his own death. The scars that adorned the beast, they were deep, and red. Carved so deep into its face one could feel where the flesh was missing. Arthur knew those scars too well for it to be a coincidence.
“Well I’ll be damned… Marston, is that you?” | 9ffb507e6fea4a2f84abb15e69c482dd | ['5eaa139905c647e6b4c54bca83073ef7'] | “Then make me be with you. If you do that, I won’t go anywhere. Be my good boy and keep me with you. Be my precious thing... and stay by my side. Like you always have been. Never take off that red around your neck.. you hear me...”
John moaned loudly in reply. So loudly that it could have been possible for people to have heard, if anyone was around.
“Yes Arthur- always. I’ll always stay by your side”
“Good” is all that John heard back.
The hand that was stroking Arthur’s cheeks moved around his throat and choked John’s neck. It felt familiar. It felt natural. It felt so fucking good.
“Yes! Arthur! More!” Jack exclaimed, feeling the breath leave his body.
“You’ve always been my pretty slut... even now...”
“Y-yes Arthur- always your slut- always, always, alw-“
The grip had gotten tighter and John’s eyes rolled back. Drool dripping from his mouth like the tears in his eyes.
“Make us come. Now.” Arthur commanded.
And John could do nothing but oblige. It was in his very nature, his very blood to obey Arthur Morgan. That was his duty.
When John came, it went everywhere. Onto the floor, the bed sheets, his thighs and even shirt. The orgasmic moan rung through the halls of the hotel. He had not felt like that in years. Only Arthur could make him feel like that.
“Don’t forget to clean up the mess” was the last thing John heard Arthur say to him. Falling off the bed in a stupidly satisfied mess he smiled to the ground, lapping up the mess he made- a sticky mess of cum and whiskey. Whether it was his own or truly Arthur’s he could not tell. John fell asleep like that. Face pressed into the floorboards.
“I love you, Arthur Morgan” was the last thing John said as he slipped into the sweet oblivion of drunken sleep.
There was no reply back. |
56d3787971c448c588cfe0c6011ca565 | ['5eaad12089704d29b78f74eb5dae61d9'] |
**Author's Note:**
> This is just a thought I had about Maia and Magnus being friends. Also, this way Maia gets an idea of who the 'someone special' is. I hope you like it!
Simon walked into Hunter’s Moon with a smile plastered on his face. He was so excited to be spending more time with Maia. She was interesting and if he was being honest, also very attractive. He paused outside for a moment just to collect himself and quickly check his reflection in the door. Taking a deep breath, he walked in.
Maia was behind the bar, cleaning up after her shift. She smiled brightly at him as he approached her.
“Hi,” she said. “You’re on time today.”
“Yeah, I wanted to make sure I didn’t come too soon and get myself into any more trouble. I cannot be trusted to not get into any trouble alone,” Simon said sheepishly.
“Well, do we have any plans for now?” asked Maia as she collected her bad and coat from a room behind the bar.
“No, I thought we could do whatever you wanted.”
“Let’s go for a walk then, the weather looks really good.” Maia said as she appeared besides Simon.
“Sure, that sounds good,” agreed Simon. He saw a coat in her hands that was dark purple. It was strange because she was already wearing her own.
“Um, not that I think it’s a bad idea, but why do you have two coats today?”asked Simon.
“Oh this? I was hoping we could walk over to Magnus Bane’s place. I am not sure exactly where he lives but I did get his address from Luke just now,” explained Maia.
“Oh I know where he lives!” exclaimed Simon. “But how did this wind up with you?” he asked.
“Magnus is a regular, something happened last night when he was here so he portalled out immediately, leaving his coat behind.” Maia said. “I just thought he would appreciate getting it back.”
“Yeah, he would, if he realized it was missing. The man has so many clothes,” Simon said.
Maia seemed interested in that fact. “So how exactly do you know Magnus?” she asked. “I mean I know he’s the High Warlock of Brooklyn and all the Downworlders know him, but you seem to know him personally,” she said.
“Well, I do, at least I think I do,” Simon said, now he himself was confused.
“How long have you known him for?” asked Maia.
“Feels like forever now. He has been there for me when I desperately needed help. He is important to me,” Simon said.
“Oh, okay. Well that’s nice. Does Magnus know about Clary?” Maia asked.
Simon seemed a little confused. “Well, he knows Clary, but he doesn’t know about Clary and well my feelings?” he said. “Why would he? Or why would I bring it up? Thinking about it, he must never know. I can only imagine what he would do, if he found out.”
“Because it would be important for him to know?” asked Maia feeling more than a little confused at this point.
Realization dawned upon Simon. Maia thought he was romantically involved with Magnus. That could not be further from the truth. He briefly pictured Alec’s face if he ever heard Maia say that. The image scared him, hell Alec scared.
“No, no. Magnus is a friend, actually more of a mentor. If I ever need help navigating my way around my new world, I ask him. So he’s a lot like my teacher,” Simon clarified. “And besides he likes men, well one man in particular right now. Actually he likes women too. He’s cool like that. But he does like one man more than the rest,” Simon added.
“Ah, he’s someone special. He was holding a gift the last time I saw him. He did seem very taken by this person,” Maia said.
Simon nodded. “Alec Lightwood. Personally, he’s the scariest person you will ever meet. He almost never smiles. Rule abiding Shadowhunter,” he added.
“A Shadowhunter? Wow. I mean that’s surprising, last I checked they hated us,” Maia remarked.
“Well, they’re not all bad,” Simon said, instantly regretting his words.
“Well, you only think that because you have a crush on Clary, Simon. I have met many Shadowhunters and they have always rubbed me the wrong way,” stated Maia in a somber tone. “And then there’s Jace. God’s he is so irritating,” she added to try to lighten the mood.
Simon laughed silently while shaking his head. “You don’t know the half of it. I’ve had the displeasure of knowing him longer than you have and trust me every time I just want to punch him” Simon said. “Oh, actually Alec is Jace’s parabatai.”
“So Alec is a rule abiding Shadowhunter and Jace is…well Jace?” asked Maia. She was rather confused. Parabatai shared a soul, so she just assumed that they would share personality traits as well.
“Yes. They’re nothing alike. With Alec, I live in the constant fear of being punched by him,” said Simon lightly.
“And Alec is with Magnus. Cheerful Magnus, who goes around basically spreading joy?” Maia asked skeptically.
“Well yes, he was actually supposed to get married to another Shadowhunter, but Magnus walked into the room at just the right moment and Alec left his bride to be at the altar, marched down and kissed him in front of everyone present. It was epic!” exclaimed Simon.
“I never realized Magnus had such an interesting love life,” said Maia. “He’s so nice to everyone and it would hurt to see him get hurt by a Shadowhunter you know? Someone who feels superior to us,” Maia stated with great sincerity.
“I would not worry about that. Alec clearly adores Magnus as well.” Simon said confidently. | cc8f0d2413d24c57a22f1ce758af0550 | ['5eaad12089704d29b78f74eb5dae61d9'] |
**Author's Note:**
> hey! This is just an idea that I had because I felt like Max was a little nervous around Magnus.
Magnus had portalled Iris Rouse to the Clave. If the timing was not so dire he would have joked about being a bounty hunter for the Clave because he seemed to be sending so many prisoners to them. However, this was no time for a joke. Magnus had always made sure to stay out of the current wars because he had lived through enough to know that however bad a war, another would be waged soon after. It was an endless circle of violence that he was sick of. Now, Valentine had come after him and he was going to give it his all to bring down any man who thinks that he can take down Magnus Bane the High Warlock of Brooklyn.
In fact until Iris, no warlock or Downworlder for that matter has ever dared challenge Magnus, especially in his own home. Iris coming into his home and stealing his most precious belonging was his tipping point. If Valentine wants to go to war against him, Magnus would welcome it. He needed to get started immediately.
Alec and Jace noticed the strain on Magnus’ face. They looked at each other for a second before Jace announced that they had to get going if they wanted to be on time for Max’s rune ceremony. Everyone left after bidding Magnus goodbye and thanking him for being such a gracious host. Alec stayed back and after the last of their guest left, he locked Magnus’ door. Magnus had already retreated into his work room when Alec came looking for him.
“Magnus,” Alec called, feeling a little silly about not knowing which part of today to speak about. He only had 10 minutes at most. There was so much to talk about but right now he would stick to what was most important.
“Alexander,” Magnus replied a little surprised that his boyfriend was still around. “Magnus, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize that by hosting this party you would lose your spell book,” Alec explained sadly.
“Alexander, don’t be sorry. It was hardly your fault. Iris would have come after me for the book anyway,” Magnus told Alec as he gently held his face. “I will fix this, Alexander. Trust me,” Magnus reassured the solemn looking shadowhunter.
“I know I’m just upset that you have to. I know you don’t like getting involved with shadowhunter business and I don’t blame you for it Magnus,” said Alec sadly. “I don’t like that you will be in danger, Magnus. Valentine wanted you dead when we first met and if he hurts you, I’ll never be able to forgive myself,” added Alec.
“Darling, I’m going to be okay. I’m the High Warlock of Brooklyn. I can take care of myself. Although I must admit, I’m touched,” replied Magnus with a small smile playing on his lips. He loved it when Alec was like that, unguarded, open and honest. Alec only behaved like this when they were alone, Magnus realized.
Alec nodded and placed a chaste kiss on Magnus’ lips. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked Magnus. Magnus was a little surprised by Alec’s question but quickly composed himself. “Yes darling. I’ll be just fine. Now you better get going if you don’t want to be late for Max’s rune ceremony,” he said. Once again, Alec nodded but before he could really leave the room Magnus pushed him against the door and kissed him, hard.
When they broke apart, Alec seemed surprised. “What was that for?” asked Alec while grinning. “Nothing, I just really felt like kissing you, so I did. Was that okay?” asked Magnus, feigning innocence. “It was perfect,” Alec told Magnus while blushing furiously. “Do you think it’ll be okay if I came back after the ceremony?” asked Alec, unable to meet Magnus’ eyes. “You’re always welcome here, Alexander,” Magnus reminded him and Alec nodded and not so subtly swallowed.
When Alec left the loft, Magnus locked the door behind him. He could not be too safe. He needed to find a way to track the book down. That book could unleash hell in Valentine’s hands and that was the last thing he wanted. The book also contained a summoning spell for a demon, the worst of them all in Magnus’ opinion. His father.
At the institute, Alec hugged his brother after the ceremony. “I’m so proud of you, Max,” he said. Max smiled and thanked him. Unable to stop touching his first and brand new rune. “You shouldn’t touch it,” Alec admonished as Izzy approached her brothers. Alec took a step back and allowed his sister to pamper their little brother. Smiling at the sight before him, he caught Jace out of the corner of his eye following Maryse into the halls. Deciding he needed to talk to the both of them, he followed his parabatai.
He only caught the end of their conversation. He was happy that they had resolved their issue but he steeled himself as he approached their mother. Max mentioned Maryse and Robert fighting over Alec and Magnus. Alec wanted to ask his mother about it, put the issue to bed once and for all. He was surprised to learn that his level headed father was cheating on his mother. He could feel Jace’s rage as he stood next to him. He hugged his mother. It had been a while since they had embraced but as Alec held her sobbing body he felt love for his mother. Something he thought he would not feel again after they parted ways at his botched wedding. |
6eacc3ace9cf4315b3e863aaa2681d13 | ['5eaae5db860f4211b263919547b0477b'] | Ghirahim shut up
**Author's Note:**
> Hey guys welcome to my newest story I hope you guys like it. I won't have a regular agenda of when I'll post a new chapter but I promis I won't let you guys down
"I can't belief this is happening to me! Me the great Girahim!" Ghirahim complaint as he walked through an empty space with just ywo other entities with him "Girahim I detect a 76.7876% chance you are agitated" Fi said a lityle annoyed herself. "Oh shut it, bluebird! You know those statistics of yours annoy me" Girahim said as he turned to her as his cape fell to his side without any air resistance. "Ghirahim don't you dare call her annoying!" The third spirit said as he stood up. "Oh please you green dog. You have no right bossing me around only one being in existence has that right and-" "he is gone" Fi interrupted him while she has a frown on her face. "Good point, Fi" Ghirahim roped his eyes at the two "you two are utterly disgusting" Ghirahim turned around to the ....... walls I guess of the space and sat down "and you two both realise th i th i all your fault right?" Ghirahim stated with a deep frown. "Our fault?! Who here chose to side with that. ... demon child in the first place?!" The green spirit stated angrily. "Shut up!!!" Fi shouted with her blood boiling, a rare acorunce even if she wasn't a sword Spirit. After she took a deep breath she said "the chances of us leaving at less then 32% if we do not work together" Fi said completely calmed down again. "Ha! I am a demon Lord! I can escape without the help of a lesser being and a mortal" Ghirahim taunted. "Ghirahim you are awareof the fact that he is no mortAl anymore since he is now a sword Spirit just like us" Fi said back to her normal state. "Well with an uglier attire" Ghirahim said with a smile on his face. "Ghirahim. ... shut up" the green spirit said, tired of Ghirahim's antics
**Author's Note:**
> *swallows* so how did you guys think it was? Be honest okay | b06438b8d2294b07a730e233fae09f9a | ['5eaae5db860f4211b263919547b0477b'] | Demon pain
Okay I'm sure you've heard this story before, A demon king comes to the land and brings Havock. he is stoped by a hero or sometimes a group of heroes But that is just one way to it. Okay first we had Demise then we had Gannon well that's how what some people think. THIS story is the most recent one. it has the right parts and they mostly lay in the right place but there is one piece that you would normally not see so let's begin
Darkness, darkness and yet not that. Darkness isn't evil this was malice. You know, there is no afterlife for monsters you just come back as something new. The same core but a different skin, that's also the case for the king of the desert or the "man with the evil eyes" if you will. Heh the worst part was that he deserved this and he knew it, he caused the death of millions if not billions of people so it was only fair he rotted in this black and purple hellscape, oh whait he can't rot. Every so many years he would come back and be a puppet of the demon king once more and more people would suffer. But maybe one day he would loose his mind in here and by the looks of it he would. The thing was that e could not move but feel his body he could wich made it only worse he could only think and think and think again well he used to rethink his past life's. that was useless though. Since the first two maybe three he just wanted revenge and that's all but after being reborn again and again and again he just wanted to die and stay dead. He couldn't though and that's when he started counting the seconds between his life's.
The 3 and the fourth was about 786 days 2 000 minutes and 53 seconds. Now he simply did not care. About his past life's his first was by far the worst...........?.... why you ask? Well because that was the biggest mistake in his history for that was when he fell for the demon king's hate. He was happy as the king of the gerudo he had a wife at his side and his life was (for gerudo very good) it wasn't the best you could imagine since water was scarce by he was happy his people where happy..... but then a group came to him saying they whent OUT of the desert. Into a land where water was rich and the people where as well. Though the name, Hyrule sounded familiar to him so he assembled an army to take over the land on his command. That was the moment his life was ruined. And the rest is very well known the demon king took over his mind and his body over time and the old ganondorf draqmire was gone. After that he returned time and time again. The demon becoming more and more him then him until al he was, was a carrier of the power that was Demise. Not even the Triforce of power could make him strong enough to be free. And there he was now just waiting to become more a monster then the last time. Then a light shined through the prison of malice it made him feel like it was FINNALY time to move on this never happened before and he could move his body so he started running straight at the light faster and faster until!
To be continued
**Author's Note:**
> Okay it ain't my best work I belief but it's not that bad right? So I hope you enjoyed it anyway and stay out of trouble |
0160eb4228484d219008e79d5fb451a7 | ['5ee2a0414ca940a38babfad87332de52'] | He reluctantly put it on. She was right, it was far too short, but he didn’t mention that. This didn’t seem right.
They made the pancakes, Xisuma working off of muscle memory. It was quiet, the sizzling of pancake batter the only sound in the kitchen.
It felt… nice.
“So,” his ‘mother’ began, “you really don’t remember anything?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. Things feel familiar, but I don’t know why.” He paused. “I’ve got a lot of questions.”
She smiled. “I’m sure you do, dear. Everything will be explained in time.” She flipped a pancake. “You can ask away for now, though.”
X had thought about a moment like this one hundreds of times before. Late at night he would wonder what his parents were like. If they were still alive. What he was like as a child. Usually in these scenarios, he had thousands of questions he wanted to ask. At this moment in time, his dreams finally being fulfilled, his mind blanked. All he could think to do was laugh once, quietly under his breath.
“Take your time, dear. You always had a struggle with finding the right words when you were younger.” She smiled, pouring another glob of pancake batter.
X felt his eyes begin to water. A tsunami of emotions crashed in on his heart, washing away any and all things he wanted to say in an instant. He swallowed, blinking rapidly. _ Oh god why is this happening- _
She rested a hand on his shoulder. “Pancakes are done, dear. After we eat, you can spend some time resting. I know that going through portals can be tiring.”
As soon as she said this, X felt his energy beginning to deteriorate. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. _ Maybe a minute of peace would do me some good. I need to be less vulnerable. _
An enderman walked in just as the pair sat down, going over to X’s mother and saying something incoherent. Her smile tightened.
“Ah, dear. Apologies, but it seems I have some matters that need attending. I trust you to find your way back to your room once you’re done. If you can’t, just ask a guard. I love you.” She hugged him tightly, walking away briskly without another word.
X inhaled sharply. He hadn’t had a hug in a while. Not since the day he baked cookies with Keralis. Thinking on the happy memory made him set his guard up, putting a wall around his emotions made of a thick, mental concrete.
It seemed, however, that the concrete was set with sugar, for as X ate some of the pancakes (he felt like he hadn’t eaten in _ decades _ ), his mind slowly softened to the idea of staying. Not for forever, of course, just long enough to get some answers. To enjoy seeing family. He yawned, feeling suddenly more tired than before. It wouldn’t be hard to believe that in his drowsiness he was just imagining that the pancakes seemed to smell a bit like mushrooms, right?
\---
The clock mounted on the wall of the HIB read 5:34 AM. 26 minutes until Scar and Cub were allowed to start their investigation looking for Xisuma.
Cub had fallen asleep hours ago, leaving Scar alone with a cup of coffee and Jellie to pet. He was positively restless. It felt impossible to sleep when a friend-especially one you hurt-could be in danger.
Scar examined the bandage on his wrist. It seemed to have gotten infected by something, maybe a loose potion of poison. Nothing he was worried about.
Throughout the day, Scar had thought he was set on this case. Why wouldn’t he be? It was Xisuma. It was his _ friend. _
He had doubts, though.
It was a possibility that X didn’t want to be found. It was a possibility that he was still mad and needed the time away. It was a possibility that Scar was overreacting, and by doing so he’d ruin another friendship.
He bit his lip. _ This was a horrible idea. If X weren’t fine, he’d call. _
Scar nudged Cub awake.
“Mh. Five more minutes,” Cub muttered, burying his face into his lab coat.
“Cub. I’m calling off the investigation.”
“Okay…” Cub mumbled, slowly coming fully into consciousness. “Wait, what? What time is it? Is X back??”
“No, just…” Scar sighed. “I’m worried we’re gonna fuck it all up again. If X wanted to be found, he would be. Let’s… let’s just give him some time.”
Cub raised an eyebrow, resting a comforting hand on Scar’s arm. “...Alright, if you say so.”
Scar smiled gently. This was fine. Everything was going to be fine.
\---
Ex shut his eyes, breathing in and out. In and out. It was easy to focus on breathing when it was the only sound around for miles.
Conducting up enough power to escape was difficult, and sure as hell hard enough the last time. _ God, Xisuma. Why do I have to save you all the time? _
In and out. In and out. He felt the energy flow through his veins, resting in his fingertips and dancing under his skin. It dissipated as quickly as it appeared, though, leaving him empty. Leaving him numb.
He tried again, and again and again and again. His head throbbed and his hands felt like they had just spent hours carrying boulders, but they could move now. No longer were they locked in place.
He felt a bit of happiness bubble up through his exhaustion at the progress. _ Just a little more like this and I can save him. _
The good mood quickly dissipated, however, as Villapura’s chilly energy made itself known in his prison.
“Hello, darling.” Villapura walked past him, pacing about in the Void around them. “Having Xisuma back is becoming more of an issue than I thought it would be. He doesn’t remember anything, all thanks to you.” | 0c0acee8a4a846528b4acd152bb3b18b | ['5ee2a0414ca940a38babfad87332de52'] | Scar encased the fungus in a glass box. He stuck a sticky note to the box, reading _ “DO NOT TOUCH!! Not Scar safe-or anyone safe!” _ and they decided to take a break.
\---
X’s communicator had been blowing up for _ hours. _
He got tired of working so he took a break, which lead to him feeling restless, but he was still too weak to work, so it just lead to him pacing through Hermitville and listening to his com buzz on and off.
People kept trying to go to the End and seemingly dying as soon as they stepped through the portal, their stuff appearing in the stronghold. Some people were messaging Xisuma directly, asking if he knew anything about the issue. He ignored the messages for the most part, responding briefly with anything along the lines of “Sorry! I’ll check it out ASAP!” and then going back to pacing.
He didn’t know what was wrong with the End. Why would he know what was wrong with the End? He was _ expected _ to know, sure, but how would he? He was so irritated and _ tired. _
_ I just want to go home. _
A little voice in the back of his head piped up in response:
_ So why don’t you? _
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> sorry for posting this chapter later than usual!! i got a bit stressed about posting, but im alright now! i had a lot of fun with this chapter and actually did some research on types of fungus to make it accurate and cool. i found this mushroom called the "devil's tooth" mushroom (i think??) and thats mostly what i modeled the mysterious mushrooms off of! hopefully yall like this chapter!!
<3
4. Cookie Break!
Xisuma stopped in his tracks, blinking rapidly. The thought had caught him off guard, but ended up making him even more stressed about the current situation.
_ I’m already home, _ X tried to tell himself, but his heart wasn’t in it. He started pacing again.
His com kept buzzing. His mind kept ringing. His feet kept moving.
He tried to keep his mind away from the little bit of doubt in the back of his head, breathing in and out. In and out. His hands were shaking a little, tremoring like the beginnings of an earthquake.
Often times, the world felt like too much. There were always hundreds of thousands of things going on at once, and he knew from the beginning of his first year on Hermitcraft that it just wasn’t going to be something he could get used to. It felt too cold, too hot, too _ much. _
His eyes flickered across the path. He sighed quietly, chewing the inside of his cheek.
“Shishwami?”
X flinched, whipping his head around to see Keralis standing behind him. He looked nervous. Concerned.
“Ah. Didn’t see you there. What’s up?” Xisuma asked, trying to put on a calm face.
“Are you alright? I’ve been trying to get your attention for..” Keralis checked the com on his wrist. “Ten minutes.”
X sucked in a breath. “Sorry. I’m.. having a bit of a stressful day.”
Keralis’ face softened into a gentle smile. “Well! I think I have just what the doctor ordered!” He gave X a quick, tight hug. X didn’t usually enjoy physical contact, but Keralis gave _ amazing _ hugs. Keralis let go, expression suddenly excited. “And! I actually wanted to ask you something!”
Xisuma raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Bubbles has been working really really hard on New Hermitville, and I wanted to make him a treat! But.. I’m not the best at baking. So! I wanted to ask you if you’d be willing to help! And..” he leaned in as if telling a secret, “I might be able to spare you a few extra!”
X smiled softly at his friend. “I’d love to.”
“Great!” Keralis chirped, activating his elytra. “Follow me over!”
Xisuma followed to New Hermitville. The place was looking gorgeous, with a giant skeleton of an iron golem, scattered poppies growing around it. Smokestacks billowed out of chimneys. It was homey, comforting. Keralis glided down to a shop with a sign over it reading “BAKERY” with a little heart carved into it.
Keralis led X inside to where a kitchen area was set up, complete with all the materials needed to make chocolate chip cookies, including some extra spare ingredients.
“You’re prepared,” X commented, plucking a rolling pin from the pile of items, “but you don’t really need half of this stuff.”
“I just grabbed whatever seemed useful!” Keralis said sheepishly as X raised an eyebrow at the oregano on the table.
X snickered. “Oh well. Better than not having what we need.”
They started on the cookies, Xisuma mostly taking the lead. He felt in his element here, picking items without even needing to look at a recipe. Keralis poured in a copious (but much appreciated) helping of chocolate chips, and the two started balling up the dough to freeze for an hour before baking.
“It’s best to freeze the dough beforehand so it tastes better,” X explained, a smile glimmering on his face and dancing in his eyes. He hadn’t felt this happy in a while.
“Wow! How do you know so much about making cookies? I never took you for a baker,” Keralis responded, staring at X with big, curious eyes.
X chuckled softly. A feeling of nostalgia bubbled up in his chest. His face slowly fell into a scrunched up expression, trying to remember a memory that seemed just out of reach.
“Y’know what? I don’t think I know why.” Xisuma laughed a little, his mood slowly falling. “Maybe I just am.”
Keralis smiled. “Maybe you’ll remember when we give them to Bubbles!” And that was that. |
023ccf465adb4c6982c72ae1757dfd01 | ['5efb8f6ea2e540daa146245c41aab967'] |
Autumn Pages
Autumn has come again.
The cold winter breeze started to creep in into their skins which left them to shiver between the shades of Sakuras. As usual, same old Korea.
Its people were always busy with their own lives as they hurry to their jobs, offices, and schools. Honestly, everything felt fast-paced except for the sweet humming of the guy beside Choi Seungcheol, walking the streets of Seoul like he was someone who came out of a drama.
"Hm?" Jihoon asked when he felt Seungcheol stopped. "Anything wrong, Seungcheol?"
"Nothing." Seungcheol answered and slowered down his pace to keep up with Jihoon. He had his hands in his pockets while stealing glances. He wants to capture these moments right now, where everything seems so peaceful and solemn. Too bad, they didn't brought a camera.
Yet ephemeral, transcience and fleeting the feeling is. Because one of these days, them running away from the suffocating province of Jeju will be put on an end once their families realize that they have gone missing. So Seungcheol asks himself, Did I make the right decision? Was running away the only solution we had in mind? Was I foolish enough to bring Jihoon with me?
Because if he wanted to runaway to be free, he could have done it easily. . . but he has Jihoon now. Jihoon, who never had a piece of his heart fixed. Jihoon, who tear his heart into bits just to give a part to the people he cares for. Jihoon, who will still smile even after seeing those people crush the bits of his heart in front of his eyes. Jihoon, who'll just say "I guess my heart was too fragile to unable to handle the force of their fingers."
Jihoon, who is too beautiful in many ways, in different angles and sorts. And Seungcheol knew that Jihoon is his priority now. Jihoon became a gem for him the moment he laid eyes on him, even though he looked scraped and abandoned.
Seungcheol tried to keep up with Jihoon, who was happily watching the falling cherry blossoms. Sometimes, he would try to catch them and whenever he caught one, he would put it in his pocket.
"Why did you do that?" Seungcheol asked him.
Jihoon looked down and smiled to himself. "I want to keep them," He replied. "I want to collect as many as I can to be able to remember this moment with you. This moment where we're too far from our suffocating province, this once in a blue moon chance to runaway with you. So that when we get found, I would be contented that I brought something that reminds me of us."
Seungcheol pulled Jihoon into an embrace. "We promised we'd never let go of each other, right?"
He felt Jihoon nod in agreement. "Yet, we can't do anything about us, Seungcheol. You know that very well."
Autumn has really come. The cold breeze reminds Seungcheol of a sad story told twice. The falling petals and the discoloration of leaves make him tremble in fear of the future. Autumn is just beginning and he was already hoping it would end soon. Because once Autumn and Winter's over, Spring would come and he could happily runaway together with Jihoon without worrying about anything.
Spring. . . how many days shall they wait for it? It was tiring for him to wait and he needs to take care of Jihoon who could breakdown anytime even if left just for a min—
"Seungcheol, let's just enjoy this day. Do not worry about me, please. I'm okay." Jihoon told Seungcheol like he knew what he was thinking. But Jihoon saying he was okay was clearly a lie— the cracked lips, his pallid face and the unstoppable coughing show that he was going to catch a cold soon.
Jihoon was too weak for autumn. He was too weak for anything depressing and lonely, but he always try to withstand it. He never liked dramas and crying. He doesn't like mulling over something. He doesn't like to overthink about the same thing over and over again. He hated it, but that was what he's good at. He was good at crying over what they have, and what Seungcheol and him can't have— and that is love.
Because how could he not stop overthinking about them when everytime he looks at Seungcheol's beautiful face like God's masterpiece, he is reminded of a cruel society always trying to break them apart? It claws through his heart, leaving scratches he could never erase. It was depressing but he needs to withstand it. That's the only thing he could repay Seungcheol for looking out for him.
Jihoon skidded to a halt. His smiling face turned into a stonehard one. He faced Seungcheol who was confused. "What's wrong, Jihoon?"
Jihoon pulled his hand from Seungcheol's grip and took steps backward until there was a meter gap between them.
"Go now, Seungcheol." Jihoon told Seungcheol. "Go now. Let go of me now. I realized that we ranaway too soon."
"Jihoon, what are you talking about? We both wanted this! We wanted to escape, so what are you saying—"
Jihoon gave him an apologetic smile. "I know, Seungcheol. But I was too dumb to not think about it. I'm sorry but you can go now. Stop looking out for me. I'm already letting you go."
Jihoon bit his tongue to stop himself from crying. Seungcheol was still in shock. He couldn't speak. He doesn't know what to say to Jihoon anymore.
"Let's meet when the cherry blossoms bloom again, Seungcheol. We shall meet when the cold is over and rebirth comes. We shall meet when it's too bright and everything progresses fast with our love. Until then, we shall never meet so you won't have to worry anymore." Jihoon said.
Jihoon started to jog away from Seungcheol. He waved his hand and gave Seungcheol a thumbs-up. He shouted at the top of his lungs.
"When the cherry blossoms start blooming, find me and I shall love you again."
**Author's Note:**
> hi guys!! you can talk to me at twt abt anything! click the follow button~ @vermingyu or @kkyungwow | d3bedbd317214542836a9f7bf91a4890 | ['5efb8f6ea2e540daa146245c41aab967'] |
Over Unhygienic Talks and Old Apollo
"Breathtaking." Seungcheol tries hard not to arch his brow.
"Breathtaking, you say?" Seungcheol repeats what he said as he chortles while pummeling the table.
"Yeah. I personally think that's the right word. I mean, imagine this: Old Apollo stands a few feet away from you looking deadbeat from work. Then, as he approaches you, his smell starts to get into your nose. The smell coming from his socks, his armpits and his sweat-soaked tee. Can you even fucking imagine that?! My roommate has literally took my breath away! Goddammit, I almost passed out." Jihoon complains. As he types into his laptop, he's got his face contorted as if recalling the scenarios made his head throb.
Well, you can't blame him. Jihoon has the worst roommate you could ever have. Jihoon admits; he's not that much of a hygienic person but it's actually kind of annoying when Old Apollo shows up to you looking like a man who lived all his life in a fucking trashbin. Old Apollo or better known as Kwon Soonyoungㅡ he prefers to be called Old Apollo than Soonyoung because here's what actually happened when Jihoon opposed to calling him Old Apollo:
"If you call me by my name Soonyoung, I would seem like a teen who still brings packed lunch boxes to school and I absolutely hate that! Who would bring lunch boxes to school even when they already jack off to nude girls?!"
"Wow. You jack off, Soonyoung?" Jihoon asks in awe. Soonyoung doesn't seem like one, though. Or Soonyoung doesn't even seem like he has the time to jack off. Oh well, I guess he makes time for it.
"Of course, yesㅡ hey! I told you to stop calling me Soonyoung!"
"So what do you actually want to get called?" Jihoon asks, his eyes narrowed at his roommate.
With certainty, Soonyoung spoke. "Old Apollo."
"Old Ap-ap-apㅡ" Jihoon stuttered over the name because he quite didn't hear it or maybe he did but he chose to stutter over how hilarious the name was.
"Old Apollo. Ya know, Apollo. The Greek god of light." Soonyoung explained. There is this twinkle in his eyes that Jihoon managed not to roll his eyes at.
Jihoon paused. "Oh. Did he invented candles and flashlights?"
"What the hell?! No, fuck! It's not like that. I mean, listenㅡ I chose Old Apollo because my name Soonyoung has Sun in itㅡ that big ball of fire which could burn you. And I included the word Old because there's 'young' attached to my name. It's there to contradict it."
"Soonyoung, you don't actually read Sun as 'sun' but 'san'."
Soonyoung threw his hands up and sighed exasperatedly. "Fuck pronounciations! Why do you always have to comment on what I have to say?!"
Jihoon deadpanned. "In the first place, this thing is already as ludicrous as it seem. Anyway, why didn't you chose Helios over Apollo?"
Soonyoung threw him a glare across the room. "Are you stupid?! Helios sounds so ancient! I don't want to be called that."
Jihoon shut up at that.
Then looking up, he saw Soonyoung preparing himself to go to the dance studio he runs. "Okay, I'd call you that name. But I've got a deal for you, mate."
What deal, Soonyoung managed to mumble out as he was stuffing his mouth with a sandwich.
"You get to do the dishes as long as we live together. I want no clogged sinks, just to remind you. And be sure to take out the trash. Make sure you take yourself out, too."
Soonyoung raised his brow over Jihoon's last sentence but he still gave an OK sign at him.
"Piece of cake."
____
Still cackling, Seungcheol had his eyes on Jihoon. He would sip his coffee every now and then; Seungcheol noticed. But he wouldn't even leave his eyes off his laptop's screen. This has always been like this. As he would tell Seungcheol his Old Apollo stories, he would remain focused on typing.
Jihoon suddenly stops and sighs, letting his gaze pierce through Seungcheol. "But honestly, calling him Old Apollo is actually a lot worse than Soonyoung. I mean, hey what's wrong with a name that seems like you still bring packed lunch boxes to school?! Damn, man! Old Apollo sounds like a 90's rapper who raps shit like sugar mommies and any of that disgusting stuffs!"
Seungcheol throws another fit of laughter at the man in front of him. The people inside the cafe would look at them occasionally but they didn't give a damn about it.
"You know, your honest judgement is kind of hilarious." Seungcheol says.
Jihoon gives a lopsided grin at him. "You think so?"
Seungcheol nods and takes another sip of his coffee.
Jihoon looks out the window and then, as if he recalls something, he turns back to Seungcheol with happiness evident in his face. "I almost forgot to tell you this. Old Apollo has showed me another weird act. Okay, I'm already smilingㅡ hell, what a great roommate I've got in here."
"What weird act?" Seungcheol asks.
"You know, we don't usually catch each other during breakfast because I always wake up first. But today, we did because it was my day off. And guess what I've found out? Every morning, Old Apollo would actually make two cups of coffee. In the first one, he would add sugar in it. In the second cup, he would add salt in it. Goddammit, how much weirdness could he show to me?!"
"Wait whatㅡ did you say he adds salt to his coffee? How could he even stand drinking it? Man, I would be constipated." Seungcheol comments.
"Well thankfully, he doesn't drink the one with salt in it. When I asked him on what's the point if he doesn't drink it, he said that it's just there to remind him that other people got bitter lives than him." Jihoon replies. |
f5b342847f604cb0b54e7d7528f34bac | ['5f0853b81cfa4fd891dea5f86d5f6bbd'] | Then you walked into it again
**Blasty**
At least I didn’t scream that I was Almight and attack the police search party started by our parents
**AlienQueen**
DAD IT’S THE GOOD KUSH!!!
**CaughtonTape**
It’s the dollar store, how good can it be?
**Pikachu**
Apparently extremely good
**Tenya**
The teachers have been telling us to get up and go outside for half an hour.
**Tenya**
Hurry up
**AlienQueen**
Yes Iida
**Blasty**
Whatever
**Deku**
Ok Iida
_2:15_
**Kendno**
We found Monoma.
**Tetsu 4**
We took pictures
**Fungurl**
He hates us
**Ibarbara**
Hide us please
**Wavelength**
Priorities
**GravityGirl**
Yes priorities
**AlienQueen**
Pictures first
**Fungurl**
Fair enough
_Monomabeingsweet.jpeg_
Hecancareforsomeoneotherthanhimself.jpeg
Ohgodhesawus.jpeg
**Tetsu 4**
You didn’t have to send that last one
**Ibarbara**
Hide us please?
**Deku**
Is he playing with Eri?
**Kendno**
Yes
**Deku**
Well, we can’t really hide you anywhere since the building’s off limits.
**Deku**
But I’m sure we’ll figure something out. Right guys?
**GravityGirl**
Yep
**Froggo**
Yus
**SharkBoy**
Definitely
**Blasty**
I want to see the chaos
**Deku**
Kacchan. No.
**Blasty**
Fine
**SparklyBoy**
As long as none of you sparkle brighter than me I will help all of you…
**SparklyBoy**
I want to say peasents, but I have heard that is insulting
**Kendno**
Yes
**Kendno**
Yes, it is
_3:01_
**GravityGirl**
Wow putting up those tents was hard
**Blasty**
You made it hard on yourself by trying to use your quirk and then you had to get Aizawa so that he could stop it flying away
**TheseThingsAreTangled**
After making me try to grab it with my earphone jacks.
**TheseThingsAreTangled**
Now these things are tangled.
**Tenya**
It was actually quite simple to set up the tent
**SharkBoy**
Yes for you who spent most of the first 20 minutes measuring EVERYTHING to the millimetre
**Tenya**
Yes and now all that planning has payed off
**Yaomomo**
Ahem
**AlienQueen**
Oh yeah sorry. Is there something you want Momo?
**Yaomomo**
GAHHH!!!!!!!
**Pikachu**
Does anyone know where the tents came from?
**Deku**
Um guys
**Deku**
Momo made them
**AlienQueen**
Oh
**CaughtonTape**
Oh
**Pikachu**
Thank you, Momo.
**AlienQueen**
Yes you are the best!
**Yaomomo**
I spent most of today making them suited to everybody’s quirk, so you better bloody be thankful because oh my god Mina I learned my mistake when you melted the first one I made for you because your quirk doesn’t follow basic science
**AlienQueen**
I’m sorry
**Yaomomo**
Good
**Deku**
We are very thankful for all your hard work.
**SparklyBoy**
Mine has sequins!
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I html code these while also being on discord at the same time
>
> I am the best multitasker ever
8. chapter 7
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> continueing with my dream
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> introducing Yasu Nakano! more notes on him at the end
**Deku**
Has anyone seen Hakagure and Ojiro? They weren’t at dinner.
**Invisibaby**
We’re on a date
**HeadsorTails**
No we’re not!
**Invisibaby**
Aww. Then what are we doing?
**Pikachu**
Yes what activity are you participating in? we hope that it is acceptable.
**TheseThingsAreTangled**
What
**AlienQueen**
The
**Blasty**
Fuck
**SharkBoy**
Kaminari you sound like Iida.
**TheseThingsAreTangled**
You can’t blame this on spell check
**Pikachu**
Iida stole my phone
**Tenya**
Mine had a flat battery
**Pikachu**
No excuse
**Invisibaby**
And now it’s not flat.
**Tenya**
Kaminari Charged it
**Pikachu**
Reluctantly. I did it reluctantly
**HeadsorTails**
For anyone still wanting to know Toru and I are running some errands for Aizawa
**Invisibaby**
His sleeping bag broke so he sent us to get a new one
**CaughtonTape**
The Chrysalis has broken but what do we see? Not the beautiful butterfly we were expecting but a shabby caterpillar waiting for another day to take a chance that has flittered by so many times
**IWannaSleep**
Dad isn’t a stupid caterpillar so stop making jokes about it!
**Deku**
You did it again
**IWannaSleep**
Did what
**Deku**
You called Aizawa-Sensei Dad again
**IWannaSleep**
No I didn’t
**IWannaSleep**
In other news one of the people in the general studies course may be in the area of your building. His name is Yasu Nakano and do not approach him under any circumstances.
**Kendno**
Why
**AlienQueen**
He’s not like Mineta or anything, is he?
**Froggo**
Oh no
**GravityGirl**
Oh god no
**Yaomomo**
Please say no
**Invisibaby**
Not like Mineta
**TheseThingsAreTangled**
Oh please no not another pervert
**IWannaSleep**
No he’s not a pervert
**Yaomomo**
Few
**IWannaSleep**
But he gets high of his quirk after a certain voltage, so be warned
**Pikachu**
Is his quirk like mine?
**IWannaSleep**
No it’s the opposite, he’s a lightning rod
**Deku**
Thank you for the warning
**Deku**
Wait he couldn’t possibly be this guy
_Randomdudeisabsorbingtheelectricityoffourbuilding.jpeg_
**IWannaSleep**
Yep that’s Yasu.
**TheseThingsAreTangled**
How long has he been there?
**SharkBoy**
Who knows
**SharkBoy**
Perhaps the most important question is, Why is Kaminari running at him like he’s trying to startle a wild animal?
**AlienQueen**
Maybe its more like, Why did that work?
_thewildYasuisstartledbyitspredaterthewildKaminari.jpeg_
**Blasty**
Why did you call the image that?
**AlienQueen**
I thought it was an accurate description of the photograph
**Shouba**
It was
**CaughtonTape**
I have a video
**GravityGirl**
SHOW US!!!
**CaughtonTape**
_Lookslikethisguyishigh.mp4_
**Deku**
He is definitely high
**Deku**
I mean he ran back to his building screaming gibberish and then as he approached it he screamed there are two doorways which one is the path to enlightenment, ran into the wall and screamed the dark ones will not control me I will go through the path of enlightenment, while continuedly ramming into the wall right beside the door.
**AlienQueen**
IT IS TRUE
**CaughtonTape**
THE DARK ONES EXIST
**Pikachu**
THEY WANT TO STOP ALL ENLIGHTENMENT
**AlienQueen**
WHERE’S THE TINFOOOOOOOOOOOOIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
**Blasty**
You’ve set them off
**Blasty**
They won’t stop screaming
**Blasty**
Now they keep doing the stupid oooweeeoooo noise
**Blasty**
Thank god the tinfoil is back inside the building.
**AlienQueen**
NOOOOOO!!!! THE DARK ONES HAVE TAKEN OVER THE BUILDING!!!!
**CaughtonTape**
THE DARK ONES!
**Pikachu**
THE MACHINE!
**AlienQueen**
THE TINFOIL!
**IWannaSleep**
I can’t believe I know Yasu
**IWannaSleep** | fc5461c9801145f1a1b5f1ebb5b01386 | ['5f0853b81cfa4fd891dea5f86d5f6bbd'] | Yes. But not from falling.
**BirbBoy**
Then from what?
**Wavelength**
Mirio is coming for me!!!
_Mirioiscomingforme.jpg_
**Induplicate**
HAHAHAHA Class 1A!!!
**Deku**
Monoma, those three are seniors
**Induplicate**
Shdwjkffdfvjhdhvkjsdfvlkjkfjvhkljvh
**Yaomomo**
Another stroke? That makes 3.
**Kendno**
Yeah, let’s call it that.
**Tetsu 4**
Kendo you have to schtap that. Really you could kill him one day.
**HeadsorTails**
Why did her quirk stop working?
**Deku**
Where’s Aizawa-sensei?
**HeadsorTails**
Why do I think those two questions are related?
**SharkBoy**
I’ll go stop him from being accomplice to murder.
_SharkBoy has left the group chat_
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> updated with basic html coding!
3. chapter 3
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> the next 2 to 3 chapters including this one my sister wrote
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> even though its my birthday I made sure to have time to get this to all of you so I hope you enjoy!
_Deku has blocked Blasty and SharkBoy from the chat
Deku has added SparklyBoy to the chat_
**Deku**
That should ensure that we won’t get killed later
**Shouba**
Why would we get killed?
**Deku**
Cause this is a gay conspiracy
Between two of our closest friends
Kacchan and Kirishima
**Deku**
The girls started it
**AlienQueen**
*puts hands up to my eye in a triangle shape*
Oooooweeeeeooooooo
**Pikachu**
I’ll get the conspiracy board
**CaughtonTape**
I’ll get the Tinfoil
**Shouba**
Stop
**Deku**
It. I’m
**Shouba**
Serious
**HeadsorTails**
We’ll discuss that some other time cause Kaminari, Sero and Mina are already yelling other conspiracies at a suspiciously well-developed conspiracy board in tinfoil hats.
_Whattheactualfuck.jpg_
**Invisibaby**
Lmao
**Shouba**
That’s mine
**Deku**
Oh than-
WAIT WHAT!?!?
**Shouba**
That’s my conspiracy board
**GravityGirl**
Let’s get back to the topic of Bakugou and Kirishima liking each other.
**Deku**
Yes, let’s
**Tetsu 4 **
**
**
If you need any proof that Kiri’s gay I got in touch with one of his middle school friends and he sent me this picture of a text that Kiri sent him in their third year.
_Theevidence.jpg_ __
**BirbBoy**
Why are you here?
**Tetsu 4**
Do you have a picture of Kirishima Confessing his sexuality?
**BirbBoy**
No
**Tenya**
Why are you talking about Kirishima and Bakugou behind their backs?
**Deku**
Because we’d be killed
**Shouba**
If we talked about it to their faces
**SugarRush**
Midoriya, Todoroki, you gotta stop doing that. Those 3 were screaming about aliens and adding more layers of tinfoil to their hats. Then they screamed that Mina was one of them and that the communists from the future are going to come back in time and take her away from them. I swear if they use up the rest of the tinfoil…
**Induplicate**
Do you need kendo?
**Froggo**
Do you mean: Do you need them to have r/Ihadastroke moments
**SparklyBoy**
GET THEM AWAY FROM ME!!!
**Deku**
What’s happening?
**SparklyBoy**
Those three Shitheads want me to use my beautiful shining naval laser to send a Fucking Signal to the ones in the sky. The “dark” controlling ones.
**TheseThingsAreTangled**
They mean the Illuminati
**SparklyBoy**
Qu’est-ce que je fous vraiment, une sorte d’esclave laser?
**Yaomomo**
That’s French, He’s swearing in French.
**Deku**
What is he saying?
**Yaomomo**
You’re too pure to know what he just said.
**SparklyBoy**
Ils ont pris ma ceinture. Commencer à préparer leurs cercueils. Ils auront besoin d’eux très bientôt.
**Deku**
Can I know what that means?
**Yaomomo**
I’ll tell you later. All you need to know is that those three idiots stole his belt.
_Thoseidiots.jpg_
Theystolehisbelt.jpg
He’sadvancing.jpg
They’redonefor.jpg
**GravityGirl**
Monoma! Quickly!!!
**Induplicate**
She’s already there
**Deku**
How?
**Tetsu 4 **
**
**
Me
**Kendno**
Done
_ThreemoreIhadastrokes.jpg_ __
**Deku**
Now that that’s done does anyone else have proof of a relationship between Kacchan and Kirishima?
**ZoomIn**
I do. I haz pictures taken literally 30 seconds ago of them hugging.
**Invisibaby**
How
**IWannaSleep**
I think invisible girls spoke for us all when she said that
**Tenya**
Mei, you weren’t stalking us again were you?
**Deku**
1.Iida how do you know that?
And
2.Mei, you’ve stalked us before?
**ZoomIn**
More than once. But that’s not it. One of my babies flew off during testing and it started taking pictures of stuff and I just got some of them hugging, snuggling and basically showing affection to each other.
_Hugging.jpg_
Snuggling.jpg
Adorable.jpg
**Froggo**
So cute
**ZoomIn**
New picture just in.
_Theykissed.jpg_
NOOO MY BABYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!
**Deku**
I guess that’s what that explosion was
I’m sorry Hatsume
**HeadsorTails**
Shit Bakugou’s coming we have to stop.
_Deku ended the group chat_
4. chapter 4
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> last chapter my sister wrote for a while
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> sorry it's late, but double update! maybe?! y-yay?!
_6:00pm_
**Blasty**
What the hell were you guys talking about earlier. Why can’t I fucking read the rest of the group chat? DEKU!!!!
**Deku**
n-nothing Kacchan
**Shouba**
can I have my conspiracy board back please
**Pikachu**
we’re not done
**AlienQueen**
the dark ones haven’t arrived yet
**CaughtonTape**
the machine isn’t ready
**AlienQueen**
we ran out of tinfoil
**Blasty**
what the Fuck
**Deku**
They went on a conspiracy rampage with Shouto’s conspiracy board last night when you were…
**Blasty**
I shouldn’t have asked. But I will ask this…
**Blasty**
WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU FUCKING KNOW DEKU!?!?!?!?!?
**SharkBoy**
Okay so Uraraka just showed me the… proceedings… of last night and I actually had to reread it three times. I’m so embarrassed. And Tetsutetsu how did you even get his number? You know what I don’t really care I’ll deal with that later.
Right now my main priority is making sure that Katsuki doesn’t murder Midoriya and that Kaminari is alright because he’s not looking too well.
**SugarRush**
Wait, who’s Katsuki?
**Deku**
Katsuki is Bakugou’s first name. it basically means victory.
**TheseThingsAreTangled**
You learn something new everyday
**Yaomomo**
Sharing is caring.
**Shouba**
Let’s see, his name is victory and he won the UA Sports Festival 1st year section and was the top entrant in the entrance exam. He has basically won everything.
**Shouba**
Including Kirishima’s heart.
**GravityGirl** |
70b3d5eb9d5b478b917282f1b3744fb5 | ['5f1c8159df2b4a5ebdbb5bf1627353d1'] | What does he do with Jessica, then his dick hardens once more. He could have his own sex slave, kill two birds with one stone. Keeping Jessica in his basement will be the perfect hiding spot to interrogate and fuck her. She’ll learn her lesson and no one would ever suspect him; he’s the Chief of fucking Police. He’ll help with the investigation then go back and fuck her senseless. Maybe he’ll even get Bella back.
Instead of sleeping, he sets up the basement to keep Jessica indefinitely. All she needs is a mattress with iron hooks at the corners to keep her legs and arms tied down, a bucket for her waste, water bottles, and a shock collar. She won’t need clothes, expect when she’s bleeding. At that point he’ll get her pads and a few panties. There are two doors down there, so it’s double security to keep her hidden.
Charlie waits for Jessica in her bedroom. Lucky for him her parents are never home and he knows all the neighbors are working. Wearing gloves he takes a few panties and bras for her to wear when needed. Not expecting an intruder she walks into her room and pulls off her shirt and unzips her jeans. Upon seeing Charlie she gasps, but before she can scream he covers her mouth and nose with a cloth. The chloroform knocks her out fast and he deftly throws the little slut over his shoulder and calmly walks into the garage, out the door, and through two neighbor’s yards. He carefully places her in the truck and gets in his car. He knows he’s one smart fucker. Why didn’t he think of this sooner?
It was so easy to bring her down to the basement and tie her up. He wanted to undress her but thought it would more exciting cutting her clothes off while she cried. Finally she wakes up and is confused. “Welcome to your new home slut. Thought you could threaten me and get away with it.” His dick hardens as she begins to cry and struggle. “I have some questions for you. If you answer them truthfully I will be kind to you. If you lie to me you will pay for it.”
Jessica’s sobs continue. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because you sent me a letter and threatened me. Did you think you could get away with it? Besides, I can keep you here and no one will ever think to look in my basement. While I go out and look for you during the day, I can come home at night and do what I want with you.”
“I didn’t send you a letter. Please, I don’t understand.” Jessica manages to get out between tears.
“Shut up! Now you are going to be treated like the nasty slut you are.”
Jessica cries even harder, but when Charlie pulls out his knife she stops. Is he going to kill her? Then she realizes there is something worse than death, he slices away all her clothes. First her breasts are exposed; he moves the flat edge of the knife over her nipples, making them hard. He roughly pulls down her jeans and panties as far as he can get them, and then slices them to get them off her legs. Despite her best efforts, it’s useless to fight. She’s spread open for him to see every party of her body.
“I knew a girl like you would be hairless, but it’s a shame you’ve had all those dicks in you. At least you’re prepped for me. Hell, I bet your ass is even prepped.” Jessica cries. “Please, don’t do this. They will look for me. They will find me.”
Charlie chuckles at her, but keeps an eye on her pussy. “They will never look in the house of the Chief of Police? No one would ever suspect me; you’re here until I decide to let you go. I’m going to enjoy this and one day you’ll enjoy it too. But since you’ve lied, you’re going to have to learn a few lessons.
Her screams start once again as he removes his pants and strokes his cock. “Let’s start with that mouth of yours. I bet you suck a good cock. If you bite me, I’ll gag you and only take it out to let you eat.”
Any attempts at keeping her mouth closed are a waste of time. Charlie easily turns her head and shoves his hard cock in her mouth and down her throat. “Gag on it whore.” he moans, firmly grabs her hair, and moves it up and down his cock. Jessica gags on him as tears fall down her cheeks. The terror in her eyes only turns him on and makes him move her head up and down faster.
“You better swallow or I’ll hurt you.” Thankfully he comes fast and she does her best to swallow his cum. She tries not to throw up, afraid of what he will do if she does.
“Now let’s see if I still got my smooth moves and can make you come. I heard that a mustache adds to the pleasure, I can’t wait to find out.” He lowers his face between his legs as Jessica cries.
Jasper lies on the couch; legs spread as Bella sucks his cock and fondles his balls. She gets him deeper down her throat each time and its pure heaven.
“Fuck Bella, you look so damn good with my cock in your mouth. While I want to shoot my jizz down your throat, I love feeling your pussy milking my cock. Make yourself wet and ready for my cock.” | d939b9052b244aa1b3d75f1df70d9bb3 | ['5f1c8159df2b4a5ebdbb5bf1627353d1'] | He holds my face in his hands, "Bella, I am so sorry you had to do it alone. I should've never let my guard down. I should've been the one to protect you. I should..." I stop him with my lips and gently kiss him. "No Jasper, we protect each other. You had no idea this was going to happen. I'm glad you didn't fight. He might have hurt you worse or made me..." I stop, I don't even want to think about what he was going to do to me. Then I realize he's still in our home and I try to jump up, "Oh my god, where is he?" Jasper holds me close to him, "It's okay Bella, he's contained. I want you to relax for a minute and then we'll tell you what you missed." I nod at him and he kisses my cheek.
.
"Bella, do you need some water honey?" Rosalie asks as she hands me a tall glass. I nod and slurp down the water, I'm so fucking thirsty. Rosalie sits next to Jasper, "Emmett and Edward ran in. You fainted after you gave Emmett the gun. Alice and I were able to grab you in time before you hit the floor. We put you on the couch with Jasper. Edward was helping Jasper wake up while Emmett tied the asshole up. He wanted to kill him, but before you fainted you told Emmett not to kill him, you wanted Jasper to do that."
.
I look at Jasper as I rub the bandage over his right ear. "What about you? Are you okay?"
He smiles, "Edward checked me out and made sure I was okay. I've been relaxing with your for the past ten minutes and I feel fine. Rosalie takes the empty glass from me. "We were worried about Jasper. Jacob used a 2x4 to hit him on the head, but it looks like the fall to the floor knocked him out. Edward made sure it was only a minor cut and bump." I look over at Jasper and shake my head.
.
"You need to be checked out by a doctor. What if you have a concussion?" I can't have anything happen to him. He smiles at me, "I never told you, Edward has his medical degree. He decided not to practice, but he's our familydoctor." Before I can argue that he still needs medical attention, Jasper hugs me again. "I want to hear about why you decided to shoot him and let him live. That was a brilliant idea Bella."
.
I look at Jasper and then back at Rosalie. "I wanted to shoot him in the head, but I knew that would be too easy for him. My father taught me how to shoot a gun. I wanted to knock him out, but keep him alive for you. I wanted you and your brothers to..." Alice laughs and I look up to see her in our kitchen. "You are one tough chick Bella. I don't think that fucker knew what he was in for when he got here. He should have stayed in that mental hospital. Now our husbands are going to torture him to death...and we'll reap the benefits of the hot sex afterwards." Rosalie and I laugh, but Jasper just shakes his head and laughs at Alice. Although I can't say I'll complain about sex with Jasper. .
.
Edward walks in carrying tarps and garbage bags, bringing them into Jasper's office. I notice Jacob sitting there on the floor staring at me. I look back at him. Did he think he was going to come here and just take me? I feel this sudden burst of rage as I think about Jasper lying on floor bleeding. I think about him rubbing himself in front of me. Threatening to kill Jasper. I want him dead. I jump up and run over to him and slam him in the face with my shoe. "You came in to our home, you hurt my husband, you tried to rape me. But you lost again. You will always loose, now you will fucking die." I hit him again with the shoe and he laughs at me.
.
Jasper grabs my shoulders, "Bella enough!" He doesn't raise his voice, but it screams dominance and control. I stop, knowing he's pulling the Dom card. I nod and look at him. He pulls me to him and kisses me deeply and lovingly. He caresses my face and the spot right above my ass. I moan, the kiss is full of love and promises of things to come later. "I think this hurts him more than you slapping him with a shoe." He says with smile on his face. I nod and smile at Jasper.
.
Emmett and Edward walk back into the living room. They have on jumpsuits, I assume they're to keep the blood off their clothes. Jasper kisses my cheek, "Bella I'm gonna leave you with Rosalie and Alice for a bit, okay?" I nod and know he's going to kill Jacob. .He puts on his jumpsuit as Emmett and Edward pick up a terrified Jacob and drag him into the office. He kicks and screams and tries to bite them. But they just laugh at him. I grab Jasper's arm. "Make him suffer Jasper." He nods and kisses my cheek. "You know I will." He walks towards the office but then stops and looks at us. "Mr. Jenks is coming, just let him right into our office." I nod and watch him disappear behind the closed door and locking them in the office with Jacob. The room of torture. |
17c1767f1e3a437fbf9a03009b4e7f06 | ['5f246081eeea4dc29895a3469b21a9e4'] |
1. Night Terrors
2. The Great Catnapping Horror of 9:Something Dragon
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> I still find it super insulting Bioware didn't give us the option to protect Anders after Awakening.
>
> Or bone him.
“You can’t be serious!”
From across the large study, Queen Anora looked up from the stack of weathered parchment she had been sorting through. Sheet, after sheet, after sheaf of letters and petitions from commoner and allies alike.
Orlais always gave her such joy to read - the language was half poetry and half religious allusion on the best of days and thinly veiled threats on the worst days. Their current agenda focused on bringing Fereldan back under Orlesian rule under the saccharine guise of ‘reuniting old allies.’ At least it was a step up from Kirkwall and other Free Marchers petitioning, demanding and threatening her on behalf of their 'Refugee Situation.’ Anora tended to slide _those_ letters toward her husband. If he wanted to play King, he would _play_ King. Let him deal with everything concerning the Blight. To his credit, he always undertook such matters with appropriate gravity and dedication which pleased her.
At the moment, her _king_ was half-draped across _her_ armchair, next to _her_ merrily crackling fire, in _her_ study. He would never say it outright, but Aeden Cousland loathed being alone. She broached the subject once early on in their partnership - he was quiet, but he _never_ left her _alone_ \- to which she received one saucy remark regarding her apparent beauty and magnetism and 'How could she not see that he was _irresistibly_ drawn to her, he couldn’t help himself.’ A few nights later she was awakened from a dead sleep by the screams of her new husband. Then she understood, and never questioned him again.
Still, the appropriation of all her things as his own occasionally grated on her nerves. Folding her hands across the stack of papers she sat, watching and waiting for her attention-seeking husband to explain the reason for his outburst. After all, one didn’t tend to blurt out such phrases without the intention of catching the ears and eyes of their companions.
But he was apparently engrossed - and slowly sliding out of the chair as he devoured the last of the letter. By the time his boots hit the floor, the single page letter with it’s shining silver griffon seal had been absorbed and promptly tossed into the fire. The rest, also all marked with Grey Warden seals, were thrown onto the seat of the chair he once occupied. With the grace of a warrior, Aeden stormed toward the door without so much as another word.
Which was to say, very unusual. Anora simply couldn’t let such a mystery linger - not when it concerned her partner. Oh, she was more than capable of ruling on her own - and he knew it - but that didn’t mean she hadn’t grown attached to the vainglorious creature she now called her husband. She would miss him, she admitted to herself - much as she missed Cailan.
“Has something happened?” Anora inquired to her husband’s retreating form.
As if remembering that his life consisted of more than himself, Aeden turned about-face with an apologetic dip of his head. With a grand sweep of his hands he flashed her a charming smile as he crossed back across the queen’s cozy study. “A great and terrible injustice is all.”
“That’s all?” she inquired with a quirk of her eyebrow.
“Yes,” he said bending across the table to bestow a gentle kiss upon her forehead. He was ever so careful not to disrupt a note, or quill, or any letter; she’d have his hide. And while that was sometimes quite enjoyable, he simply didn’t have the time right now. “ _Catnapping_.”
“Anders alright?”
“Oh, he will be,” Aeden smiled back at her, charmed she remembered the mage. He only traveled with him on a brief journey, nothing quite as large-scale as uniting all of Fereldan and Orzammar against the Blight. Apparently, Aeden was far more taken by the mage than he knew and talked about him just as frequently as he did of his other many inspiring companions. Schooling his dopey grin back into suave stoicism he took a step back away from her. “I’ll be back soon, with adequate pomp and circumstance, of course.
"Oh, and burn the letter you’re reading. Bastards supported Howe,” he said in passing as he spun back toward the door with a duelist’s grace and sauntered out.
Anora glanced down at the letter briefly before looking back at the quickly disappearing shadow of her husband. With a sigh and a annoyed lick her lips she straightened the stack and decidedly _didn’t_ burn the offending letter. For as much as he mocked Sister Nightingale, he certainly managed to pick up a few unfortunate skills from her…
—
“Tell me _everything_.”
Anders glowered into the rust-colored drink Aeden had shoved into his hands. It looked like something Oghren would drink on a dare. Maybe that’s where Aeden heard of it - it wasn’t an appetizing thought. Especially after the incident at their Joining. Even now, Anders would think of it and shudder. Good thing Oghren went last or the number of Grey Wardens in Fereldan’s rank would still be three.
Swallowing, Anders clutched the tankard with the full intention of merely making his friend _believe_ whatever sludge he was just given was, in fact, the comforting lifeline that Cousland apparently thought it was. | f27e20ce6fdd4275bfb74b48a66817b8 | ['5f246081eeea4dc29895a3469b21a9e4'] | “For now,” Leliana said, catching the line of thought that Varen had; Mahariel had a few of the same fears, though she was not often vocal about them. Truthfully, they seemed at the back of her mind – and a pleasant surprise when Queen Anora granted lands to the Dalish. “It means closing the Breach.”
“And after?”
“We will see,” Leliana replied easily. That was most likely a long way ahead – and who knew what would happen in the meantime. “As for what must be done, again, we will see.”
Varen didn’t like the sound of that. There was a lot of room for abuse of power. “What about the Chantry? What does that make us?”
“Heretics, most likely,” Cassandra snorted.
“The Chantry will take time to find a new Divine, and then it will wait for her direction,” Leliana said.
“ _We_ cannot wait.”
“Alright… so what’s next?” Varen sighed. It wasn’t as if she had much choice – the Breach was still there, and quite frankly these people were likely all that stood between her and certain death complete with mock trial. Maybe if she were really unluckly, a purging of heretic elves and destroyers of the world would soon follow. It was a risk she could not take.
“We rally our forces,” Cassandra said.
“All six of them,” Leliana murmured. “There are two others who you must meet before we proceed,” she continued, guiding Varen toward the door. No doubt these two mystery people were lurking somewhere near by, like cats waiting to pounce upon their prey. "Come, you'll meet them now."
18. The Inquisition
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Hey, so I'm alive and writing again. I apologize for the horrendous delay of what? three months? I had a shitty toxic job, and booooy was it fuckin up my brain.
>
> But now I have a new, wonderful job that allows me to write on a daily basis. I'm now several chapters ahead, and will likely update on a weekly basis (Tuesday ish.) If the demand grows then I'll do a Monday/Thursday thing.
>
> As a final note: This update comes with a heavily edited Chapters 2-8. Nothing really changes, so if you don't want to go back you don't have to. All I did was expand a little more on Clan Lavellan, and rearrange shit with Isabela. Hopefully, it gives you a better look at who these fuckers are rather than just rampant name droppings.
>
> I'm learning. Thanks for putting up with my bullshit.
>
> As a note: the next several chapters deviate from canon dialogue a lot. So if you're tired of reading shit you play in game, new content is coming soon I promise. Starts somewhere in this chapter, grows with the next and then goes off the rails for a few more and then is only peppers with canon stuff.
>
> Hope you have fun. <3
The moment that the trio exited the study they found themselves, Varen discovered the Chantry occupied by two other people, man and woman. The main doors were closed, leaving them shrouded in shadows and flickering candlelight. While that had given Leliana and Cassandra an imposing first introduction, the dim light only softened these two.
The man stood with one hand resting easily on the pommel of his sword. It was a soldier’s comfort, like a child’s safety blanket. The hand that rested there was not his sword arm – he meant no threat to her, nor did it allow for any thread to be perceived. Yet it was enough of a warning to deter anyone looking to pick a fight. His face was kind, even despite the dark circles under his eyes. Something in the way those blue eyes shifted about the room revealed to the discerning person that those heavy bags was not due to lack of sleep.
The woman, Varen far more pleasing to look at. Though whether it was because she was fair of face and quick to smile or the glittering gold and silk that she wore, Varen wasn’t entirely sure. What did matter is that the woman was downright mesmerizing.
Leliana gently nudged Varen in the side with her elbow and cleared her throat. Varen dipped her chin, bashfully and made sure to close her mouth. Deshanna would chastise her for catching flies no doubt – Sylaise’s grace, she was over thirty, and here she was blushing like a school girl. Hopefully, the woman in gold didn’t catch on.
“Herald, this is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat,” Leliana said, and the woman stepped forward and made a gentile courtesy. The smile tugging at her lips said that ‘yes, she did notice.’
“ _Andaran Atish'an,”_ Josephine said. Although her accent was certainly flawed, the heart was there – and through that Varen’s own heart soared straight through the rafters.
“You speak elven?” Varen said, dipping her head in greeting. She could not prevent herself from smiling.
Josephine looked a little abashed. Her dark eyes glanced away from Varen as she sheepishly admitted, “You’re just heard the entirety of it, I’m afraid.”
_Oh, what a shame._
It was Cassandra who interrupted this time. Once more, Varen’s gaze was directed back toward the blue-eyed ball of fur. “May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces.”
“Such as they are,” the man replied. Fereldan, by his accent. And his name… his name was terribly familiar, but she couldn’t determine from where. “We lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through.”
“Along with Sister Leliana, we will help facilitate closing the Breach.”
Varen frowned, glancing back at Leliana. “Are you our Chantry liaison?” she asked frowning.
Leliana’s smile was cryptic at best. It certainly did not reach her eyes. “In a sense,” she replied. |
c635622f0050489ab77c833882b3dd6c | ['5f522d463df444f091d81fa5d35da1ef'] | Silk Pajamas
**Author's Note:**
> I wrote this on a whim, and I'm happy with how it turned out. I’m not sure how great it is as all my works are all unbeta-ed, but I do hope you find some inkling of enjoyment in this piece.
>
> The characters in this piece do not belong to me, but all the mistakes in this piece do.
The first time Harry Potter saw his boyfriend, Draco Malfoy, wearing silk pajamas was the first time they slept— _only slept, mind you—_ in the same bed. Harry donned gym shorts, slung low on his hips, and a simple white t-shirt that accentuated his muscular abdomen; he was comfortably laying down with his hands behind his head and struggled to keep his eyes from fluttering closed.
_Merlin_ , he knew Draco had an extensive nightly routine, but what was taking him so long? Knowing Draco, he was probably tidying up the cuticles of his already perfectly-manicured nails or exfoliating his terribly soft lips (Harry _would_ know how soft they are).
Minutes later, a delicate, hesitant voice called out, “Harry?” from behind the shut bedroom door, followed by a soft knock on the heavy oak. “Can I come in?”
“Of course,” Harry replied in earnest, stifling a yawn and sitting up, the bed sheet pooling around his calves. “You can take the right side of the bed if you—”
What Harry saw when he looked up at Draco rendered him speechless and incapable of any rational thought. Draco was dressed in deep, pine green pajamas—silk by the looks of it—that hugged his slim figure _considerably_ , to say the least. The edges of the pajamas were trimmed with a steely gray, bringing out Draco’s eyes, and his long, white-blonde hair was tucked neatly into a bun. He was _beautiful._
Those gray eyes flashed now with confusion at Harry’s abrupt stop in speech. “Do I look unpleasant? Were these too much? I can go change if you don’t like them,” Draco quickly said, making way towards the door. It perplexed Harry to no end how Draco couldn’t see how _gorgeous_ Harry sees Draco.
“No, love,” Harry began, halting Draco in his tracks, “it’s quite the opposite actually. You look rather stunning in those—” Harry laughed. “What am I talking about? You’re absolutely breathtaking in anything—but I suppose it can’t be helped.”
A deep blush was visible against Draco’s pale skin (who was speechless now?), and Harry couldn’t help but feel like he was falling deeper in love (if such a thing was possible).
Harry saved Draco from having to muster up a reply by patting the spot on the king-sized bed beside him. “As much as I’d love to keep professing my undying passion for you Draco, I am quite tired. We can continue this conversation in the morning—but for now I need my beauty sleep. You may not, considering how amazing you look now, but—”
“Oh, shut it, Harry!” Draco laughed as he settled beside Harry and into his arms. He mumbled a short spell and the lamp shut off. “Go to sleep. I love you.”
Harry smiled as he buried his face in the crook of Draco’s neck, the silk collar of Draco’s pajamas brushing against the edge of his jaw. “I love you too, Draco.”
**Author's Note:**
> Find me on LINK! | e13aa1848433453c84bca80e52a3069e | ['5f522d463df444f091d81fa5d35da1ef'] | 1. 1
**Author's Note:**
> These drabbles are unbeta-ed, so while the characters do not belong to me, all the mistakes do. I hope you enjoy this ongoing collection of drabbles!❤️
When Draco looked into the Mirror of Erised, he hadn’t expected to see just himself, not a single thing different about him. What a fool Draco had been to even consider that this mirror could somehow show him what his heart desperately yearned. As Draco turned to leave, the moonlight illuminated his left arm in the mirror, and with a sharp intake of breath, Draco realized the one thing that had been different: _His arm wasn’t tattooed with the dark mark._ He dropped to his knees and wept.
2. 2
Perhaps it was mere curiosity or even plain madness that had Draco agreeing to take a look into the Mirror of Erised with his boyfriend, Harry Potter. The mirror was locked up in an underground vault in the Ministry, but with Harry being the head auror and the boy who lived, it wasn’t too hard getting access to it.
Hand in hand, Draco and Harry stepped in front of the mirror. What Draco saw in the mirror left him confused and slightly alarmed. He tapped Harry on the shoulder and asked, “Love, what are you seeing?”
Harry gently wrapped his arm around Draco. “The same thing I always see: My parents and I.” Seeing the confused look on Draco’s face, Harry uttered, “Is everything alright?”
“I don’t understand. I think the mirror doesn’t work for me. I’m seeing the same thing I’d see if we stepped in front of a normal mirror.” But as Draco said those words, he realized why. “Harry, you are my greatest desire.”
3. 3
Draco was running. To where? He didn’t care. Draco just wanted to get away. He hadn’t realized that he’d started crying until he noticed that he didn’t quite recognize this part of Hogwarts or how he had gotten there through his blurry, tear-filled vision. But this would do. Draco sat down, his back against the stone wall, curled his knees to his chest, and started crying.
So engrossed was he with his self-pity that Draco didn’t notice the ornate mirror right in front of him—didn’t notice it until the moment he had dried his eyes and gotten up to figure out his way back to the Slytherin dormitories. Draco cautiously approached the mirror. The first thing Draco saw was himself: wrinkled robes, rubbed-red eyes, and disheveled hair from when he nearly pulled all of his hair out in frustration.
But then he noticed that there was a hand brushing out the knots of his white-blonde hair with her fingers—Granger? And there, an arm wrapping itself around Hermione’s shoulders—that was Ron, who was flashing him a genuine grin. And finally, Draco observed a hand that was holding onto Draco’s own, a hand that belonged to Harry Potter, who looked at Draco with no malice, no spite—simply love.
For the rest of the night and many more nights after, Draco Malfoy stood there and watched what could have been.
**Author's Note:**
> Find me on LINK! |
15f49568f0a7430c8a7dcee7954c4bd9 | ['5f6ea7ceaab541dc84357951ea4106b1'] |
Scars, Bars, and Vodka Cranberries.
**Author's Note:**
> Hi yes. This is technically out of chronological order for this pairing, buuut, if you read my first story (Fake Orgasms? Fake Orgasms) it'll still make sense either way.
__
_Fuck you I won’t do what you tell me_
_Fuck you I won’t do what you tell me
_ _Fuck you I won’t do what you tell me_
“The fuck?”
One of Val’s eyes had peeked open from its shut position. She hadn’t remember setting her alarm to a Rage Against The Machine song, but it sure did the trick into waking her up from her nap. Well, to call it a nap was generous, it more so like a glorified shuteye as she only fell asleep for 45 minutes, not to mention the fact it was 9:30 at night by the time she woke up.
The tall and long woman sat up in her bed and turned her alarm off, the loop of the same part of the song even annoying her, even if she was a fan of their music. Val leaned her head back and stretched it to both sides, feeling her neck pop and she ran a hand through her disheveled hair. To say her sleep schedule was fucked was saying the least, not only was she a junior in college, and reaching the point in her life where staying alive seemed taxing, but she worked the graveyard and closing shift at a bar on her campus. A decision she regretted every time she had to wake up at 9:30 and leave her shared apartment to go off to work on a Friday night.
Val, which is not short for Valerie as most people would think. But no, her parents had to be stoned as hell when they were coming up baby names and named her Valerian. She rose from her bed and walked into her closet, grabbing the long sleeve black shirt which was her work uniform. The woman sniffed the fabric for a moment before shrugging and pulling the garment on. She pulled on a pair of straight legged medium washed jeans which seemed similar to the 10 other pairs she wore, and slipped on her worn out black work boots.
“Jesus fuck,” Val squinted at her own reflection in the mirror of her bathroom. She couldn’t argue that she didn’t look tired.
The woman had major bags underneath her eyes, and her full lips were set in a permanent frown. Val stretched in the mirror, peering at her green eyes that looked dull and looking at the hickey on her collarbone from a gal 2 nights ago. Her eyes raked a little higher to look at the scar that passed through her dark and thick eyebrows. Most of the time in public when people ask her how she had acquired the mark, she made up a sob story, especially if women were around. In actuality, she was an energetic 7 year old and tripped, her metal bed frame the object that graciously broke her fall.
And even though she was tired and felt shitty Val was at least happy to an extent that her roommate wasn’t home, the woman was a bit strange even to her standards. What had put the nail in Valerian’s roommates’ coffin was when she waved goodbye to one of Val’s hookups the morning after. And that wasn’t the weird part, what freaked Val out was the fact she told her that she had happily listened to them the entire night. The woman had absolutely no idea what to say in that moment, so she scratched her head and lied to her, telling her she was going to the gym when she in fact just needed to leave her apartment in general.
Val had walked from the bathroom back into her bedroom while brushing her teeth, she turned on The Aces and began shouting the lyrics everytime she paused to spit the suds out of her mouth, or when she was gargling her mouthwash. Val grabbed one of her hair brushes and began running it through her thick messy brown shoulder length hair, the knots coming out easy as the woman stared herself again in the mirror.
She wasn’t sucking her own dick or anything, but she considered herself attractive. Or at least the type of woman that brought the bi-curiousness out of people. Val had been around the campus at least more than once and wasn’t shy when it came to picking up women. Which is exactly where she wishes she was in this moment, halfway to drunk at a party and working on taking home a girl or two.
“It better not be busy,” Her lips were pursed slightly when she thought of her job. The woman exited the bathroom after managing herself and she grabbed her backpack with her essentials and a jacket. She opened then closed the door to her apartment, sticking her key in and hearing the lock click before she dropped her keychain in the pocket of her jeans and held her backpack a little closer to her.
The school year had just begun, and the summer weather was quickly dissipating as the need for a jacket or a couple became more urgent. That still didn’t stop from men and women dressing as if it was still summer, which didn’t bother Val, legs were one of her turn ons, and seeing them in September wasn’t something she was going to protest about.
The walk from her apartment to her job was short. She lived about 10 minutes away, which was good considering the massive campus, combined with living in the city, which was again something she had gotten used to, though the transition was hard initially as she had lived in the suburbs all her life before enrolling in university. Val had spotted her job from around half a block away, and peeked in the windows, only seeing a few within the bar. | b82dfc85c1c2423ea69c7ce3eb23f5ab | ['5f6ea7ceaab541dc84357951ea4106b1'] | “I me- mean, It’s late and we’re on such a big campus,” Val again stumbled through her words she spoke.
She took a deep breath, but Ny smiled and nodded her head. The brunette had taken her empty glass from her vodka cranberry and washed it out at the sink.
“Okay, Ms. Rum and Coke,” Val turned her head and quirked her eyebrows at the blonde’s guess at her drink order. The brunette dried her hands on her pants and walked to the back room, unlocking her locker and grabbing her backpack. The brunette walked back toward the bar and clocked out, then sighed.
“You’re close, I’m a Jack and Coke kind of gal, but at a certain point I no longer care what’s in my cup,” She was honest and saw Ny chuckle slightly then hop off the barstool.
The pair walked toward the exit, Val’s eyes glued on the woman’s ass, and even with her heeled boots, the brunette still had a height advantage. Val held the door for Ny as she stepped through, then locked it behind the both of them. She put her hands in the pockets of her jeans and allowed Nyota to lead the way to her apartment.
“So you have shitty friends and enjoy vodka, what else is interesting about you?” The brunette found herself slightly digging into the woman, she wanted to know more about her, what kind of music she liked, why her friends were shitty, what she was like in bed. Well, not possibly that last one, though a girl could dream.
“I’m an Interior Design major,” Val was staring at her lips as she spoke, the color matching the same shade of pink as her romper and boots, but the brunette nodded her at the response.
“And since you psychoanalyzed me the second you saw me, I’ll guess Psychology for you?” Val’s smile after the comment was immediate. She shrugged her shoulders while Ny laughed at her own antics.
“I’m already done with my prerequisites, so I feel like it’s too late to switch majors now, but I have no fucking clue of what I want to do with it,” Val admitted the fact, the problem only hitting her at the tail end of her sophomore year when she realized she needed a lot more schooling to have a chance in the workforce, but she definitely didn’t have the funds to support that.
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Ny brushed shoulders with Val as she spoke, their strides matching one another’s as they walked side by side.
It was the first bodily contact the pair had with each other, and Val calmed herself after the fact, trying not to overanalyze the fact the contact was not initiated by her. A comfortable silence fell over the both of them, the sounds of the city overtaking any chance at a conversation. Even at 2:45 at night, there were still tons of cars on the road and people walking the streets. Val took a look at the apartments they were approaching, and tried not to whistle. They were nice, almost exceptionally so, and this fact made the brunette peer at Ny with the revelation that she probably isn’t a broke college student like her who eats cereal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
“This is me. And are you sure you can find your way back to your place?” Ny had motioned to the complex behind her, and Val nodded her head, smiling as the pair stood looking at each other, not saying a word.
The brunette knew she couldn’t hug the woman, but a handshake felt too formal, and a high five seemed too platonic, which was in no way how Val felt about the woman standing in front of her.
“I should probably head back,” The brunette pointed behind her and scratched the back of her head.
“Probably,” Ny echoed smugly and winked at the woman before Val attempted to act like that wasn't the single most sexiest thing she had seen and turned on her heel and walked back toward the direction of her apartment.
As Val walked, reaching the bar once again and continuing to trek toward her apartment, her heart kept racing as thoughts of a long haired blonde woman with legs for days, with a seemingly always teasing tone, and blue ass eyes invaded her thoughts for incoming weeks.
**Author's Note:**
> If you will, please comment and give feedback for my writing. I've got some time this week to actually sit down and pump shit out, so if anyone reading this wants more of this pairing, let me know :)
>
> ♡ |
eef71aba2dd04d1cba8e8ac3d07a1d8e | ['5f731e8d452a44d5bcdae73f23a9b6b1'] | he does as told and lays on his back, not knowing what to expect. "im going to blindfold you and also handcuff you, is that alright baby?" doyoung says, with an expressionless face looking into taeyongs eyes. taeyong gulps and nods, "t-thats alright daddy." taeyong says, "safe word?" he says "lavender." he replies. doyoung nods as he goes onto the bed in front of taeyong- he kisses him for a bit before wrapping the fabric around taeyongs head.
"tsk tsk tsk already wet and we havent done anything besides kiss." doyoung says looking down at the panties taeyong was wearing. he lightly touches taeyongs clothed cock, causing taeyong to close the space in between his thighs. doyoung mutters something before grabbing the handcuffs and handcuffing the latter's wrists. he pecks taeyongs lips lightly, taeyong leaning in, he pulls back. "now, a few rules are applied. one, you cannot make noise without me letting you to do so, two, you must reply with daddy, and three, you must comply to anything i say, does that seem fair?" taeyong nods "yes daddy" "good".
doyoung leans in towards taeyong to kiss him on the lips, exchanging spit through their mouths. doyoung moves down towards the youngers' jawline, kissing him roughly. he cups taeyongs face with his left hand as he moves down to his neck and collarbone, making sure to leave marks thatll show up the next day. taeyong pants silently at the contact through doyoungs mouth and his neck- taeyong was very sensitive.
suddenly, doyoung retracts his lips from his neck, he grabs something from behind him. "now, this is where the rules come in, i expect you to follow them." he says quietly before palming taeyongs pulsating cock through the panties. taeyong tries his best with not making any noises, it truly was a challenge for him, knowing how sensitive he was. doyoung lowers his head to the youngers' thighs. his light kisses turn into biting on the skin, leaving taeyong over the edge. doyoung goes back up and looks taeyong up and down, his milky thighs were coated with hickeys and the neck was the same. he slowly pulls the panties down as taeyongs cock springs up, coated wet with his precum. doyoung kneels down to kitten lick the tip letting taeyong to close the gap in between his thighs before getting off the bed, making taeyong want more.
doyoung grabs the cock ring and spins it around his finger before placing it on taeyongs dick. confused for a second, taeyong wonders what he was doing. that all changes until it starts vibrating. with the controller in doyoungs hand, he leaves it on the third level. he watches taeyong tremble in sensitivity as he chuckles. "baby boy, why are you so fucking sensitive, fuck." doyoung says imagining how he'll be like after he fucks him. taeyong was trying his absolute hardest not to emit any sound- doyoung also noticed that. doyoung watches the scene in front of him. he was fully clothed, arms in a lock with the controller in his hand, standing watching the young boy try his hardest not to let out a sound. his thumb hovers over the level setting- taking the chance he chooses to make the setting go to five, the highest setting. taeyong is surprised by the action and curves his back, almost close to his climax. "i- im gonna c-come." taeyong says shakily, as a thin layer of sweat treats his skin. doyoung quickly turns off the toy, smirking at the boy. "ugh d-daddy please i-i was gonna come." taeyong whines, doyoung tsks "i thought i told you to stay quiet." he says firmly.
its quiet for a second before the ring turns back on, except it remains on the lowest level, but that still leaves taeyong silently panting. doyoung thinks its enough and turns off the toy, taking it off the cock carefully. taeyongs cock remains pulsating and hes over the edge. doyoung once more leans down to lick the tip twice then to stand back up to take off his unwanted clothes. he grabs a pillow to put under taeyongs back. doyoung opens the lubricant and smothers it over his fingers, before closing the bottle with a pop. he lightly coats taeyongs pink hole with the lubricant. he blows cool air into the hole, tensing up. doyoung sticks his tongue into the hole, taeyong shudders at the sudden contact, trying so hard not to make a sound.
doyoung repeatedly sticks his tongue in and out, with taeyong clenching his hole onto the tongue. this was all too much for taeyong to handle. doyoung kneeds taeyongs ass with his two hands before kissing his hole and moving his upper body up. "taste yourself baby boy, arent you delicious?" doyoung asks before kissing the boy roughly and transmitting the taste to taeyong. taeyong nods as he lifts his lower body to get some friction.
"get on your thighs." doyoung says as he gets on his knees. "suck" the younger nods before licking the tip lightly before kitten licking the tip. doyoungs hands travel towards taeyongs head of hair to guide him. "ah fuck youre doing so well for daddy huh baby, youre so good." he says as he looks down, taking off the blindfold to get a better look at his face. his eyes were coated with a glistening layer of tears. taeyong had been bobbing his head up and down, from tip to base. "goddamn it taeyong, youre doing so fucking w-well." doyoung lets out before pulling his cock out of taeyongs face. he brings the youngers chin up to kneel down to kiss him. "you did so well taking me in like that baby boy." doyoung praises him, caressing the youngers face. "lay on your stomach for me baby boy." taeyong nods and lays on his stomach excited for what was to happen next. doyoung pulls out a condom and dresses it on his penis, before aligning it to the youngers' hole. "are you ready baby, you can speak." the older says looking at his face to see an answer. "y-yes daddy please fuck me." he says waiting patiently for the next action.
doyoung grabs the youngers shoulder with one of his hand and the other placed on his ass cheek. he pushes in, emitting a groan as taeyong did the same. he waits a second until taeyong tells him to go on. he pushes in and out slowly, waiting to find a comfortable pace to go at. taeyong lets out a long moan, tears brimming the corners of his eyes. "g-go faster d-daddy." he says, doyoung following his commands. he goes faster, pulling in and out and so forth. the room is filled with the sounds of the two males in the room. doyoung leans down to kiss taeyongs back, coating his back with hickeys. "d-doyoung im close." "go ahead baby, come for me." and with the conclusion of the word, he comes onto the bedsheet and on his stomach. doyoung mimics and comes into the condom, releasing himself.
he pulls out and uncuffs the younger, kissing his wrists making taeyong smile. "let me clean this up." doyoung says as he leaves the door to come back with a warm towel to clean up the mess. he lifts the boy and cleans the youngers' stomach and the bedsheet. he leaves to throw away his condom away and turns off the lights.
he enters the bed and opens the covers for taeyong to enter into. taeyong clings onto doyoungs chest, hugging the waist of the olders. "i know this is so early but- i think i like you or something." taeyong says shyly. doyoung smiles and kisses taeyongs lips, "me too baby boy, youre just perfection." he says kissing his cheek. taeyong smiles and hugs the male closer, finding the warmth he wanted. "goodnight baby." doyoung says as they both drift into sleep, in each others arms.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> THIS TOOK ME 4 FUCKING HOURS TO WRITE YALL BETTER PRAISE ME !! if you want to hmu with any prompts for me to write, contact me on twitter - neosvtn
**Author's Note:**
> uhm hey guys i hope you all enjoyed that. i'll update this REALLY QUICK BECAUSE I'M ALWAYS AWAKE AT NIGHT SOO.. the next chapter is a long ass ride ( uhhh ) im aware that this sucks ass soo | c9be8d7c65c14b84ac9b19a06d3d7263 | ['5f731e8d452a44d5bcdae73f23a9b6b1'] | "hey baby, are you alright?" mingyu asks as he was the closest to minghao. "i- i uh- no my head hurts & not to sound stubborn or shit, but i miss yoy guys- i miss those times we would always spend together-" he gets cut off by junhui who was in the middle- leaning in towards minghao and quickly kisses his lips. "shh baby, we're sorry about that- we love you so much alright." wonwoo jumps in saying. minghao smiles fondly at his beautiful boyfriends and sighs. "say- hao do you want chocolate covered waffles?" mingyu says. "yes please." hao pouts childishly and follows mingyu suit out of the bed- not before kissing his other boyfriends first.
"so, take a seat my lady" mingyu says, minghao punches him lightly, laughing a bit. hao takes a few headache pills and waits. they sit around and wait for the waffles to toast. they finish and mingyu hums quietly while spreading nutella onto the waffles. "here it is- enjoy. " mingyu passes the plate towards hao & the younger eats it in almost a split second. "youve- you got a little something here-" mingyu speaks as he leans into minghao and nibbles on the bottom lip of minghao- "mmh tasty, now lets sleep." minghao smiles and silently curses at mingyu for his "smooth trick"
they turn off the lights & kiss the other two goodnight. they hop onto the top and get under the blanket. mingyus feet stick out as he rubs hid cold feet against minghaos. "goodnighy baby." mingyu says, nuzzling his chin on top of the youngers head, holding onto him. "hmm love you." the younger says quietly. the four boys fall asleep-
2. luscious thighs
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> tw- (past self harm) minghao's dream leads to him waking up in a cold sweat- he looks down at his thighs and covers them with the soft blanket as his boyfriends' ask him whats the problem. they help comfort minghao and take note of how luscious his thighs are.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> hey guys im so sorry for not being active, ive been busy with a lot and so i really hope you enjoy this chapter- ill make sure to update my other nct story soon! i hope you enjoy this chapter, i thought of this prompt in the car soo uhhh enjoy.
the room was filled with the darkness as mingyu held minghao close to him in their sleep. the younger one was pressed upon the olders' chest as the older steadily breathed and sinking his chest in. minghao had his arms around mingyu's waist and had his head pressed upon the nape of his neck leaving light, feather-like kisses at the particular part of the neck. mingyu takes his unoccupied hand and ruffles the youngers' dark black hair and gently massages the scalp, leaving minghao yearning for more touch.
slowly but surely, minghao falls back asleep, relaxed and in the comforting arms of one of his boyfriends. junhui and wonwoo were at work and they would come back shortly as it was maybe somewhere around eleven pm. every muscle of minghaos limbs relax, they gently soften up and release all the tension as he drifts off into a world of where fears and past 'issues' would disappear.
suddenly, minghao is awake, except mingyu was no where to be found or really any of his boyfriends either. minghao throws his legs over the small bunk bed. "wonwoo- mingyu... junnie?" the younger cries out, confused in why no one was to be seen. surely they were planting a joke on the youngest, surely. the room was dark, no moonlight no light nothing. something seems off he says to himself. he stands up and makes his way towards the door, twisting the doorknob and opening the door. it was dark, except for a light coming from the bathroom. he checks the time on the oven. two-hundred and four. this doesnt make sense at all, he shakes his wondering if hes hallucinating or something. its all kind of eerie to minghao, the small, petite boy walks towards the bathroom, wondering if any of his boyfriends were inside of there- still it was a bit unusual for no one to turn on the lights and that something was wrong with the time.
he has his hand on the knob, not knowing if he should actually open the door or not. he finds the courage and opens the door, letting his head creep in through the small amount of space he opened. his eyes land on a shadow behind the shower curtain. scared, minghao calls out quietly for his boyfriend's. "wonu, gyu, jun- if its any one of you please come out im scared." he says backing up to the door he had just shut. no answer- was this an intruder? this was very strange and quite creepy. he rises his head as his ears hear something- crying. except these cries were very familiar. it hits him- this isnt not intruder, its me.
he walks towards the shower curtain and pulls it slowly. squinting his eyes, he sees himself, except it was an old version of him. he had light brown hair and looked much younger than he is right now. he was crying, and minghao had his eyes traveling all over the figure in the tub. his eyes land at his hands- a sharp object in the right of his hand, suddenly this all makes legitimate sense- this was him, this actually had happened and now minghao can clearly remember this. his eyes look towards his thighs- he looks away in third person pain. blood fills the tub as the figure starts crying much more louder. he had no one at the time, this was before he had ever met any of his boyfriends. minghao was in a bad state of mind during that time of his life. minghao almost starts tearing up. |
154f4654d5b14bce86c9f6926bfae0ba | ['5f7ed64a3028417ba6edae8278c9a826'] |
LSD
George sat on the floor, gently playing his sitar, he enjoyed the new melody which began to form. These peaceful days were beautiful, when he could play all day long, meditating in-between and enjoying the warmth of the sun shining through the open window. „Dreamy.“ A husky voice spoke, Ringo stood in the doorframe, watching the younger who had stopped his play. „I made some chai, hun.“ He smiled, two mugs and a kettle in his hands. „And some biscuits ?“ George smiled and put the instrument aside. „Sure love, I’ll bring them to you.“ He put the tea on the ground and quickly walked back to the kitchen to get the biscuits. He came back and sat next to the guitarist who already sipped his chai. „Here.“ Ringo put the biscuits right in front of George and filled his own cup with he hot liquid. „You should write that melody down - it was beautiful, very spiritual.“ The elder said and looked at his lover who was eating a biscuit. „I’m glad you like it, we could play something together next time, I play the sitar - you the bongos?“ He grinned and leaned against the drummer. „Sounds like a good idea.“ They sat there together, enjoying the tea and each others company- waiting for the LSD to kick in. A hour ago they had decided to try it again, they had the right setting, they were at home, feeling good, all in all a perfect day to go on a trip.
George was the first who began to notice something, he began to feel a warmth spreading inside his chest, as if the sun began to shine inside his ribcage. The faint breeze that came through the window felt like half of a storm against his skin but he felt so hot inside, that he decided to take off his shirt. While George began to undress himself slowly, Ringo remained besides him, watching him undressing himself. It could take some time till the effects clearly showed up but the drummer noticed a feeling of relieve and inner peace. He scooted closer to George, realizing that his vision began to change, the colors became brighter, more intense and vibrant. „Wow…“ he muttered while he reached out for Georges naked torso, fascinated by the hallucinations that took place on his chest. He gently touched the soft skin, it felt weird at first, very soft and almost too hot to even touch. But he got used to the unknown sensation and let his hand glide slowly over his chest, which shone in bright colors now. The tender touches felt cool at first, Ringos fingertips brushing his, way too sensitive skin, was like ice against hot stone. It felt incredible almost like a part of Ringo melted with his own body, his senses, his personality. „Yes…“ he mumbled, way too fascinated by the feelings he felt to talk even more. George smiled happily and began to chuckle when he felt Ringos body falling on top of him. They were close and stared into each others eyes, into each others soul. The blue of Ringos eyes felt so deep like an ocean, George lost himself in them. They gazed at each other for a long time, admiring every little detail of their faces and enjoying the feelings and visions they shared - it was like if their bond got stronger, as if they were one whole.
Time stood still and everything felt like an eternity to them. Slowly Ringo started to press his lips on George’s, it began to prickle and the colors he saw changed into a swirl of orange and green. A faint moan escaped him and he sighed softly, deepening their kiss enjoying the feeling of warmth spreading inside him. George felt the same intense feeling, everything turned around them, the house began to breathe, the sounds of their kissing turned into wonderful tunes and melodies which intoxicated both of them. „Ringo…“ escaped Georges lips, it sounded weird at first, but he repeated the name some times until he enjoyed the sound of it. Ringo grinned and softly nuzzled Georges cheek, breathing in his unique scent, it thrilled him and he began to nibble at his neck. The younger began to moan softly and looked at the elder, his face looked beautiful, so much brighter and vibrant, the blue of his eyes captivated him, he thought he could drown in them. The urge to make love to him was stronger than ever and it seemed that Ringo could already read his mind. His soft lips formed a smile and he rolled to the side, next to George.
Who began to undress the drummer, peeling off his trousers and shirt, admiring every inch of skin he revealed. He could hear his breathing and noticed a faint shuddering from his lover. They were both naked now, George cupped the drummers face with his hands and pressed a tender kiss on his forehead. Ringo chuckled softly and wrapped his arms around George who laid on top of him now. The younger enjoyed the warm feeling of their bodies pressed against each other and noticed the rising excitement of his lover against his hip. They needed no words to know what was going on in their minds. Some small gasps escaped Ringo and he looked at the younger with a grin of his face „Give more love, hun.“ He muttered and George smiled, gazing at his bandmate. Without any hesitation he gently spread his legs, let his hands gently travel over his thighs, making him shiver with anticipation. „George…“ It sounded like a soft tune and the younger brushed Ringos soft lips with his fingers, slowly entering his mouth with them. The other took them gratefully, licking George’s fingers with great joy, coating them with his saliva. When he was done, George began to finger him. A small cry escaped Ringo and it felt incredible, though it were only his fingers. „More.“ Was the only thing he could say now, he slowly opened his eyes again, looking down at George who withdrew his fingers and placed himself right between his legs. The view was marvelous, the LSD turned everything into a bright, colorful mess around them, but Georges face remained the same, it was as beautiful as always. Ringo bit his bottom lip and felt his dick pressed inside him, the pain turned into pleasure within seconds and a flood of feelings overcame him. This trip would always remain inside their heads, the colors, the sensations, the feelings, everything felt incredible. George began to move inside him and Ringo let out faint cries, enjoying the feeling of being filled, he wrapped his legs around Georges hips, mumbling „Faster.“ And the younger did so. Their moans filled the room and it almost sounded like sweet melodies in their ears. The drummer couldn’t stop screaming when George finally hit his sweet spot. He saw stars for a moment and it seemed time was standing still, everything around him moved and he began to shiver with pleasure.
„George…“ he almost begged, he felt connected with his lover but still wanted more. He looked at him and George knew what to do. He bent down to cup his lips with Ringos, both of them finally becoming one unit. They tasted each other, felt every single shiver, heard every little sound from each other. Their heavy breathings lingered in the air and Ringo began to ache for touch. Their kiss, that felt like lasting an eternity, broke and Ringo simply whispered „Touch…“ The younger let his hands wander down Ringos sides gently, feeling his soft skin underneath his fingertips. His fingers traced down his belly, feeling new sensations, started to play with small hairs down there. He was still moving inside him, slowly this time and Ringo liked every moment of it, it felt like the end and the beginning, their lovemaking. Georges touches felt so right and made him whisper sweet nothings into his ear while he wrapped his arms around the guitarist. He began to thrust inside him, harder now, Ringos tightness around his member was all he needed to feel better. A deep groan escaped his lips and it was this moment when he knew he would come soon. „Rings…“ he gasped and slowed down a bit, slowly hitting the spot some times before he came, collapsing onto the smaller man. His orgasm felt twenty times more intense and he thought it would never stopp, when he was finished he withdrew from his lover and looked down at him. Everything was slightly moving around them, colorful patterns surrounding them, Ringo shining bright in all his glory under him. He was breathing heavily, touching himself, repeating George’s name over and over before he also came, hand covered in his own cum. George would never forget what he saw, it was marvelous, Ringo in all his beauty, taking care of himself, covered in his own and his cum, out of breath. „Kiss me.“ He demanded and grinned foolishly, George did as he had been told and they kissed passionately. They pressed their bodies together enjoying the warmth of their tight embrace. They fell asleep on the floor in each others arms, both naked but happy and satisfied, glad they could share this experience together. | f5e139eed5a046119f449ca8a0fc6b44 | ['5f7ed64a3028417ba6edae8278c9a826'] |
Octopus
It was Friday evening and Ringo and George where still in the studio, still practicing some parts from their new song. „I like your new song Ringo, it’s… really good.“ George smiled, he wanted to say „cute“ at first but decided Ringo could mistake his compliment as a joke. „Thanks,luv.“ Richard looked at the younger and gave him a small smile. „We should stop for today, it’s quite late you know.“ The guitarist nodded and put his guitar back into it’s case. Both musicians left the studio and headed home.
George hummed the tune of Ringos song and gave him a wide grin when the elder starred at him. „What? It’s a rather catchy tune.“ he said with an innocent look on his face. „We would be so happy you and me - no one there to tell us what to do.“ He began to sing out of a sudden and Ringos face slightly reddened. He liked when George sang, his voice was just marvelous, he could easily express feelings with his voice and Ringo was simply fascinated by it. „You know… I like it when you sing.“ „I know.“ The guitarist grinned and walked over to his lover, wrapping his arms around him, looking down at the smaller man. „I’d like to be - under the sea, in an octopus’s garden with you.“ George continue singing and placed a kiss on the elders forehead. Ringo enjoyed the small gesture and returned the favor with a kiss on Georges cheek. The younger leaned forward, resting his head on Richards shoulder, gently placing kisses on the soft skin of his neck. The other chuckled softly, tickled by Georges mustache. He began to nibble the delicate skin, gently biting his neck, which caused Ringo to moan sensually, George always knew where his sweet spots are. Ringos hands began to wander under Georges shirt and caressed his back while the other left a hickey on Richards throat. „Hm… I guess I have to hide that tomorrow…“ Ringo mumbled after George had stopped sucking on his soft skin. „You could wear a turtleneck, they make you look rather sexy.“ He grinned and placed a kiss on Ringos lips while his hands trailed down to his backside, gently squeezing it. Richard gasped in surprise but grinned, turned on by Georges actions.
„Hm, maybe we should move to the bedroom aye?“ The younger said and smirked noticing the bulge in Ringos pants. He blushed and mumbled „Well… yeah.“ The guitarist grinned and grabbed the other by his thighs, carrying him to the bedroom. „Wow, Harrison… I never thought you are that strong.“ The guitarist chuckled „Well, Ritchie… you’re a lightweight, so I’ve no problem carrying you.“ Ringo was gently placed on their bed and he slightly spread his legs, almost seductively. „And I didn’t know you could be so… teasingly.“ „Well…“ Richard smiled and began to slowly unbutton his shirt, revealing his ivory skin. George sat right between Richards legs and watched him slowly undressing. „Any plans, Harrison?“ Ringo enjoyed calling George by his last name, he found it extremely sexy and he knew his love was turned on by it. „Actually, yes., Starkey. I want to try something.“ He helped the other to strip his shirt and he leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. George gently pressed against the other, feeling Ringos hard on right against his own half-hard erection. „Wait a moment luv…“ he reached out for the nightstand and fished out a bottle of lube. While George had grabbed the lube, Ringo was already finished with undressing his pants, laying on the bed only in his underwear. The younger lad liked this sight, his love laying underneath him, almost naked and looking rather cute with his shoulder-long hair, his nice sideburns and stache. „What?“ Ringo asked softly and gave him a small grin, gently rubbing himself through his pants, a moan escaped his mouth and he teased „I am waiting, you know Georgie.“ „Hm…“ George mumbled and popped the bottle open, quickly undressing his pants. He freed his dick and lubed it up properly.
Richard was curious what George was up to, he wasn’t the submissive part very often, but when he was it always felt hilarious. George could be really tender and sweet and change into a dominant, rough partner from time to time. The guitarist came closer , kneeling between his legs and Ringo shifted his legs a bit. „Comfortable luv?“ He asked and Richard nodded, facing each other while having sex was something he preferred, it felt great seeing his partners reaction with every trust. The other began to gently stroke over Ringos chest, playing with his nipples for a while before trailing down to his small happy trail. His hands began to strip down Ringos underpant and he could finally admire his lover in all his natural beauty. Softly he let his long fingers ran over his hipbones, down to his groin. With featherlight touches he teased the elder, only slightly touching his already rock-hard member. „Geo…“ Ringo muttered and smiled a little, it felt good to be touched, and this time it felt different, very soft and tender, soft skin against soft skin, teasingly. Georges large hands were now placed on the drummers sides and he moved so he could finally slid between the others legs. He began to enter him very slowly, Ringo was used to it but he needed to take his time, the elder could be quite sensitive when being the receiving part. (?) With ever inch entering him, he began to moan out louder, letting the sensation overwhelm his whole body and mind. It felt incredible, feeling him inside him, filling him out quite nicely. He shivered when he felt George hitting his sweet spot just so delicately , he had to cry out. „Oh yes baby…“ he muttered under his breath and he looked up at his partner, smiling. George held him tight into place and felt Richards legs wrapping around his torso, that’s how it worked, being tangled together, a knot of limbs, pleasing each other very well. „Ritchie…“ he moaned, slowly starting to pick up pace, thrusting harder into his love. „Harrison.“ Ringo groaned back with half-lid eyes, breathing heavily while the other continued fucking him faster. George did it so well, the change between soft and slow and hard and fast. „Yes….yes, right there.“ It felt great being so close while having sex, it wasn’t like the usual love-making, this time felt different. Almost like if their bodies were melting together, building one unit which wanted one thing - pleasure.
Richard sighed, longing for more contact and as if George read his mind, a hand tenderly wrapped around his member and slowly started pumping it. „George… hm.“ Ringo bit his lip, trying to muffle a louder cry. „Don’t hide it luv, I love to hear you.“ He whispered into his ear, gently nibbling his earshell and Ringo did as he had been told, he groaned louder this time, almost screaming Georges name over and over again. „Good boy.“ The guitarist whispered and sped up a last time, he knew they both would come soon, when Ringo started crying out loud he knew it wouldn’t take long anymore - they both were close. „Oh… love.“ Richard pressed his legs around Georges waist, wanting to feel him all inside him. He began to shiver again and clenched around George, it made the younger groan with delight and the sudden tightness around his cock left him cum inside the elder. Slowly withdrawing from Richard, he still caressed his erection until he came too, only seconds after George.
George collapsed next to Ringo and the elder turned to the side to snuggle up against the guitarist. „We should do this more often…“ he mumbled and drew small circles on Georges chest. „What ? Fucking?“ The younger chuckled and placed a kiss on the top of Ringos head. „Well… yes.. but I meant the thing with experimenting - trying out different poses.“ He grinned and looked up at the other man „Where did that idea of yours came anyway ?“ „That’s a little secret, but I’ve got some other ideas baby.“ „But next time it’s my turn again.“ Ringo mumbled and placed a tender kiss on Georges chest before whispering a „Love ya.“ Into his ear, wrapping his arms tightly around him. He drift off to sleep very quickly and George wrapped the blanket around both of them before falling asleep as well.
**Author's Note:**
> I am not very good at writing fanfictions but I do it anyway :) |
60f523affbef4c339af52f004583d1d7 | ['5f8db02053c84c57badf0bd1fd6f08ad'] | Dean sometimes speaks in movie quotes, so Cas knows miscommunication, but this is like taking a step on a dirt road and ending up in a lake - not just different conversations but different languages.
"So you aren't," and Cas picks his way around the words carefully, "You don't want to break up?"
"What the fuck? No, I'm not a dick, Cas!" Dean puffs up, then suddenly deflates. His eyes go a little cross and his lips move slightly, an argument he’s having with himself. He licks his mouth, looks away, looks back at Cas. He finally shrugs. "I guess we don't know all that much about each other, at least in this context-" and he waves a hand between them. "And I mean, I don't really understand what's going on with you. But I love you. I've been giving you Emma. When you said you wanted to grow old with me... that's, I mean, I have a hand, Cas. It doesn't compare."
"Oh," Cas says, is all he can say. He feels shell-shocked; it never occurred to him that this would be an option. "I love you too."
"Yeah, I'm... getting that." He clears his throat. "It's late, you're not taking the bus back. Get changed, I'm gonna check on Emma. You can, I mean the couch is yours but I got a queen sized memory foam mattress. You could share it. Just sleeping, I swear."
Cas nods. Goes to the bathroom, then changes into his sweatpants. Avoids his eyes in the mirror, because this is what he wants but it feels like living in a soap bubble. He waits by the bed for Dean to come in, wearing his own sweatpants, and sets the baby monitor on the nightstand.
"You care about sides?" Dean asks, and Cas shakes his head, crawls onto the side Dean waves to him. Dean turns out the lights and thumps down on the mattress, stretching out next to Cas.
It's quiet, and Cas is so tired his eyes are starting to hurt, but he can't fall asleep, not like...
"No funny business, I promise," Dean says into the dark, and then he feels Dean pull him in, lets Cas rest his head against the thin stretch of material covering his beating heart.
It's a moment, two moments, and then Cas is asleep.
~~
By the time he wakes up, the bed is otherwise empty and the sheets cool. The baby monitor is on its side, switched off, and Cas catches a glimpse of the alarm clock and sees it’s an hour later than usual, so Cas assumes Dean is already up with Emma. He rolls over and presses his face into the pillow, counts slowly in his head. He slept well, better than he has in a while, but he's still exhausted. He wants to join Dean and Emma, and never wants to see them again; that razor edge wire, between remembering Dean's conversation and remembering all the years that came before, and knowing the fall is still coming.
He finally pulls himself out of bed, uses the bathroom, brushes his hands and teeth, and gets dressed.
Usually Cas finds Dean cooking breakfast, or feeding Emma in her high chair, but it's late enough that Emma's already eaten and is zooming around on the floor. She spots him and crawls over, butting her head against his leg until Cas automatically swings down to pick her up. She pats his face and murmurs happy noises at him, and he kisses her hands and says, "Yes, I know, blueberries are delicious. Of course we'll take you to the park."
"That's part of it," Dean says suddenly, behind him. "’Cause you just know."
It's not that Cas wants to argue with this, but still; he sighs, turns, and sees Dean watching them with a peculiar expression on his face. "Dean, her hands are dyed blue from the berries, and she always wants to go to the park. It's easy to know."
"Yeah, cause you're _here_."
"Here is an easy place to be." He feels Emma straining back to the floor and carefully puts her back down.
Dean shakes his head, snorts softly. "We both know that's not true."
And Cas knows he means, _my father_, and even _your father_. "Here is where I want to be."
"Yeah. Yeah, that's what took me so long to wrap my head around. I mean hell, I basically shoved you into Emma's life without-"
"I love Emma," Cas interrupts. "That is not up for discussion."
"That's not what I... Look, I know you love Emma. That's not the question."
"But my love for you is suspect, because I don't want to have sex with you?"
"No!" Dean runs a hand through his hair. "That's _my _point, Cas. You didn't believe me, yesterday, when I said it didn't matter."
Cas pauses, trying to gather his thoughts. He says, slowly, "It's not that I doubt you love me, and more that you haven't thought this through all the way."
"Yeah, but it's a little late for that."
"What's that even supposed to mean?"
"It means I love you, you dick. Sometimes I lie awake and think about us at seventy. I think about asking you stuff before I make decisions about Emma. I've been trying to figure out how to ask you to move in with us for months, before we even started dating. I'm in love with you. So our relationship is gonna be different than what I was imagining, so I'm not gonna be having sex with someone anymore. Who the fuck cares, Cas, when I get you."
Cas doesn't move. | 3f62151be90f411ba65e6ea4443d96f7 | ['5f8db02053c84c57badf0bd1fd6f08ad'] | The one under him has gone silent and away, mind floating and he slaps her face once, twice, tries to bring her back online but she's gone and really, that takes some of the fun out of it. He grunts once more and then he rolls off her, pushes her away and grabs the other one, still trying to release little kitty claws. Blood lingers on his dick and he jams into her and here's something at least, she's crying and sobbing and screaming and he doesn't know if it's because all his weight is crushing her onto her broken arm or because he's splitting her in two. Her eyes roll back from the pain and she's out too and he finishes but it's just not what he wanted, it really isn't.
He was gonna leave John to find his discards, get away with a clean escape and listen for the rumors of John breaking down those last few inches into madness, John doesn't get how revenge can be served cold, but now he changes his mind, wants to capture John's face when he walks in and sees his girls bloody and torn like rags. Little one is breathing but her head shut itself down, he's seen it before, not sure if anybody could reboot it, but the other one will wake up, he's sure of it, unless her body goes into shock and dies and really ain't that a kick in the pants.
"Fucking waste," he mutters, and decides to sharpen his knives while he waits.
John, at least, will stay awake.
**Author's Note:**
> **Extended warning** : Child rape. Implied child (and adult) murder. Could be read as implied adult rape. Torture using memories.
>
> This was originally written as two endings (actually, this was originally about something else completely, and not even the fic I meant to work on), but I combined them. It's up to the reader how much of what happened is canon, versus how much Alastair made up for the first two sections too. (It technically fits with the rest of the verse and I probably won't decide until I write more pre-canon or Sam-John battles, so for now at least, it's up to you and consistent with the verse either way.)
>
> Oh, but what is canon in my verse is Bobby, paranoid guy that he is (and also one of the few with a set telephone number) came up with a list of phrases the kids should use so he knows what's up when they call in emergencies and can be said in front of witnesses/civilians. Pastor Jim also has the list, along with Caleb (the three ones trusted with the girls care away from John), but Dee is closest with Bobby so that's the first one she thinks of when she's, you know, concussed and barely holding it together. In this case, Sting signals the creepy ass song "Every Breath You Take," aka something is attacking them that may or may not (but probably not) be supernatural. |
db5f0925f88a423782d0a4e9702760c9 | ['5fa573e37bba4d818112b7cef38d836e'] | Not that she was expecting anything, with a son like Marcus you learn early to stop being surprised at every sentence, but this was not something that she thought she would _ever_ hear from her little boy's mouth. It took her a moment to react. She shifted a little bit so that she could watch his tear strained face, his teeth chewing on his bottom lip ; she took his chin in her hand to stop him, and made him look at her, eyes red.
''Why ? Why do you think you're dying ?''
She felt his chin tremble in her hand and knew what was going to happen before a sob made him bury his face in her neck again, his grip tightening around her for the second time that day. She sighed as he began crying again, his chest was raising and falling at an alarming pace for a 6 year old, never letting go of her. It was almost like he was afraid that should he release his grasp she would get up and leave him alone to deal with whatever was eating at him. Vera was at a loss of what to do, usually a nice hug was enough to calm Marcus down, and it was worrying her that now it didn't seem to have much effect on the panic that seized him.
''Marcus, honey, I need to know what's wrong, so that I can make it better. Remember when you told me about the nightmare you had the other night, and how it felt better afterwards ?''
She always hated how much Marcus was prone to nightmares, many nights when she checked on him before going to sleep herself she would find him whimpering in his bed, tangled in a mess of sheets, and more often than not it ended with him sleeping in her arms either in his room or hers. It was frightening to see the impact that his ever growing imagination had on his mind, the kind of horrors that he could come up with would scare children and adults alike.
''Mfalinpart.''
It took her a few precious seconds to realize that the sound wasn't a chocked sob but a failed attempt at talking.
''I didn't get that, breathe through your mouth, and try again honey, come on.''
He raised his head, enough that his voice wouldn't be muffled by the fabric of her shirt, but somehow made sure that it still rested on her shoulder. She heard him sniff a few times, his nose stuffy after crying for so long, and take a deep breath.
''I'm falling apart.''
The words were said in a little, shy and hoarse voice, but with a fatality attached to it that sent chills up her spine. If anything, it confused her even more. There was no uncertainity, no doubt whatsoever, he seemed so sure of what he was saying that Vera began to feel a wave of worry crept up her heart.
''I'm going to see daddy soon.''
A lump in her throat, her eyes swelled with tears. Marcus barely had the time to know his father before he was floated, but the deceased man still held a lot of importance in the boy's eyes, who strived to live up to the ideal of a ghost. She looked down when she felt him snuggle closer to her, he scratched his forehead on her shirt, the shadow of a smile on her lips when her eyes traced his toddler-like features, she half-expected him to put his thumb in his mouth like he used to do every night a little less than a year ago. He moved one of his arms until his fist was in front of them, his tiny hand balled tightly.
''Look, mommy.''
Finger by finger, his fist opened to reveal a small object in the center. He had a tooth in his palm. A small, white tooth. A little drop of blood was besides it, a striking contrast on his pale hand, where she guessed the cutting part had bitten his skin because of the too strong grip he had kept on it.
''Charles told me I'm falling apart. That it begins with a tooth and then it's your fingers, your legs, until there's just your chest and your head left. But... I don't want to die.''
The last part was said in a low murmur, barely loud enough to be heard. She did hear it, though her brain took its time in processing the information. Dumbstruck. There was no other word to describe how she felt at that moment. Relieved, too. Relieved that it wasn't a life-threatening issue like she had begun to fear.
''It must hurt real bad, I don't want it to hurt, mommy, I'm scared.''
A shiver ran through his body. Her first answer was to kiss the top of his head, repeatedly, from his hair that smelled like the shampoo special for kids that didn't sting the eyes, to his forehead, she cupped his face, her thumb wiping away the moisture on his cheeks, to make sure that she had his full attention, that he was going to listen to every word she had to say. She pecked him one last time, on the nose.
''You're not falling apart, Marcus. No, listen to me. You are _not_ falling apart, and you are _not_ dying. You lost a tooth, it's normal, it happens to everyone at your age. I lost my first tooth when I was 5, and you see, I'm still whole. Other teeth will grow, it means that you're getting bigger and soon you'll be taller than me.'' | cba14b03ada04402ae3d952f9500f0b4 | ['5fa573e37bba4d818112b7cef38d836e'] | Underwear
''Today I've got a meeting with Indra about food supplies, she said her people is willing to help.
''Mmm...''
Abby snuggled in Marcus's arms, her head resting on his chest. The thick blanket was the only thing keeping their naked bodies from the cold of this early morning of winter. Outside the sun was rising as the camp started to wake up. She didn't want to get up, face her too many duties of the day. Maybe they could take the day off now that there wasn't any death-threatening issues to deal with. Surely Sinclair would be able to handle everything for a little while...
''Then there's also the question of heat...''
She sighed, preferring to focus on his strong heartbeat instead. Abby put one of her legs on top of his, getting closer to him. She couldn't help the smile that crept on her lips as she felt his hand rub slow circles on her back.
''You're not listening, are you ?''
''Nope.''
He rested his chin on the top of her head, grinning. Laze around all day long sounded like heaven. He took a deep breath, taking in her scent, her hair tickling his nose as he did so. He would never get tired of it.
The two of them spent the next few minutes cuddled together before a voice decided to break the charm.
''Are you awake sir ? We need your opinion on the new training schedule.''
As he started to sit up, Abby leaned more heavily on him in an efficient way to stop him.
''Abby, you heard the man, duty calls.''
He let out a small laugh when all she did was to grumble about useless men. It took time, specially with Abby not moving a muscle, but he finally managed to get out of the small bed.
''You know, we should really think about moving into the Ark for the winter, I'm sure Wick could come up with a heater system...''
Abby rolled on her back and opened her eyes for the first time this morning. She suddenly wished she had done it sooner, blinking a few times. Marcus, still rambling, was currently going through the gear of his backpack, naked. Very naked.
''Um... Marcus ?''
He looked at her expectantly. No, she shook herself, there was no point in putting that to an end.
''Nothing, just... keep going.''
He rolled his eyes but turned around nonetheless and went on checking everything. She followed his every move and tried to look away when he stood up. Unfortunately her motivation didn't last long and she found herself going from his messy hair, his clean-shaved face, to his pale well-defined chest, and... no, don't go there.
''Something's the matter, Abby ?''
His face was the mirror of innocence. Hands on his hips, he stood still, greatly amused by her discomfort.
''Now that you're willing to listen to me, I was talking about this heater system...''
He couldn't expect her to focus now, could he ? She didn't didn't know how, but her eyes found their way up to his face once more... Wait, was he smirking ?
''Marcus !''
He stopped in the middle of a sentence, mouth still open.
''I'm going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else.''
With that, she grabbed a pair of pants and threw it at him.
''Why, I thought you were enjoying the view.''
She giggled as her cheeks turned red. God, she loved him. |
1476cd36aea84102a655e49c3b4e8880 | ['5fbe95169ef24042a9c28c2bc5098648'] |
Once Upon Another Time
**Author's Note:**
> A continuation of my first little fic, Travelin' Soldier! Credit and thanks to the kind commenter who introduced me to the song Once Upon Another Time by Sara Bareilles, which definitely influenced the tone of this fic!
>
> Could be read as a stand alone, but it would make much more sense if you read the first part beforehand!
Sometimes Steve dreamed about what his life would be like if he was born in some other time. Some time when there were no more wars to fight and people would be free to love whoever they wanted to. If there _was_ a world like that somewhere.
He’d caught a glimpse of it, the one afternoon he and Tony had had together. Right before he’d stepped on the bus, the sun was starting to set. If you looked hard enough, stars were starting to appear, but Steve was looking too closely at Tony’s face. Those beautiful brown eyes shone with a new expression Steve hadn’t seen in them before. If he took out the sadness, he could almost see something else entirely, some sort of other life waiting for him, where he and Tony could lay on the grass until the sun fully set and the stars were the only things they could see hanging in the sky above them.
Of course, all it was in the end was a dream. Just a dream.
But...Steve looked down at Tony’s picture again. He’d folded Pepper back so that only Tony’s smiling face looked up at him. Looking into brown eyes, grayed in the photo but still so lively, it felt a bit closer than a dream.
* * *
The first time Steve saw him was Steve’s junior year. Tony was a sophomore, though Steve suspected he could be done and out of college if he’d really wanted to. Tony was...Tony was smart. He was quiet, but didn’t take any of the shit some of the idiots on the football team liked to dole out. Bruce Banner, Peter Parker...Steve wished he knew how to do more to stop the assholes that picked on anyone with an IQ above 15. Bucky was better at it than he was, but Bucky was graduating this year, and Steve could never quite capture the quiet elegance Bucky was able to disarm any bully with.
“You can’t run into a room shooting and not expect to get shot at right back,” Bucky used to tell him, flicking his temple in reprimand. At least Steve had gotten his growth spurt, or else Bucky’d still be dragging his scrawny ass away from fights twice his size, picking him up by his shirt collar while he’d spit dirt and blood at the ground and try to get one more bony elbow in for good measure.
But anyway...Yeah, Tony was smart. He was confident too, which was a dangerous combination. He had brown eyes that danced in the sunlight and a mischievous smile that always seemed to be saying, “Fuck with me, I dare you,” but in the most charming way possible.
He had biology with him fifth period, in the same lab group and everything. Steve was useless in that class, and so was Thor, and most of the time Sam too. But Tony didn’t seem to mind. He could probably do this backwards in his sleep, didn’t bother him that no one else seemed to know a lick of what the teacher was talking about.
“Biology isn’t my best subject,” Tony’d said on the first day, “but I’m still probably better at it than any of you, so don’t worry about it.”
“Works for me,” Sam shrugged.
Sam made the most effort to offer any sort of assistance, but Tony worked too quickly for any of them to catch on, and it didn’t look like he was going to slow down for anyone. Finals were fast approaching, and Steve had yet to find his tongue in that class. The most interaction he has is when Tony hands him the list of materials and Steve goes to the front of the room to collect them, but only so it looks like someone besides Tony is doing something.
There was only one time Tony must have gotten some part of an equation very, very wrong, and a green goop bubbled over the edge of the bowl onto the table, and the chairs, and the ground. It smelled awful, and the room had to be evacuated.
“Tony, I said to wait to finish the lab until _tomorrow_ for a _reason_ ,” the teacher gritted out through his teeth.
Tony had shrugged, all five feet six inches of him not even flinching under the teachers hostile glare. “Sometimes you’ve gotta run before you can walk, Dr. Richards.”
* * *
The morning before he shipped out, Steve didn’t wander into Tony’s cafe by accident. He’d never gone before, mostly because he could always see Tony’s brown curls through the window and never had the guts, but if he was about to be shipped off and see God knows what, he has to at least be brave enough to face the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen.
“Hi, my name is Tony, how may I help you today?” | fcded533dfe346a7bf23a7c3f779477e | ['5fbe95169ef24042a9c28c2bc5098648'] | _It’s hard to imagine you so far away. The stories people tell here...they’re horrific, Steve. Of course, a lot of them come from Justin Hammer, so who knows what kind of bullshit he’s sprouting. Thinks he’s some sort of bigshot because his dad made a shitty gun once upon a time._
_I don’t know. I don’t want to waste your time writing about that, but I guess I just want you to know that I think about you. A lot. And I hope you think about me too, and, I don’t know, it makes you feel a little better._
_I love you too, Steve. I think I have since I was 15, and you were the only one who laughed when I used silver nitrate instead of sodium chloride and ruined Dr. Richards’s shoes (probably wouldn’t have made that mistake, but I think you had just gotten a haircut the day before, okay, cut me some slack). There’s always been something that’s made me feel like...I’m okay, when I’m with you. It’s okay to be me. Even if that me is ruining some perfectly good Oxfords, or...or loving you. I don’t have to hide._
Steve clutched the letter as close as he dared to the low light in the tent. He couldn’t risk anyone catching sight of it over his shoulder. Everyone else was mostly asleep, and he knew he should be too, but he couldn’t stop rereading the letter.
_I hope you think about me too, and, I don’t know, it makes you feel a little better._
Steve snorted softly. If only Tony knew the number of times he managed to derail Steve’s entire thought process. Every time he closed his damn eyes he saw Tony’s teasing grin, his deft fingers fiddling with a beaker in biology, the way his tongue darted out to catch a drip of ice cream before it fell to the pier below them. Sometimes it made him never want to open them again, and sometimes it was the only reason he pried his eyes open and walked into another day.
* * *
“I really love him,” Steve whispered to Bucky, unable to hold the words in anymore. They bubbled out of him in a violent splatter of red, red everywhere and it wouldn’t stop. “I love _him_.”
“I know, Kid,” Bucky replied, his voice strained. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” Steve counted, voice barely there. “Maybe that’s why I’m dead.”
“You are _not_ ,” Bucky argued urgently. “You’re _not_. Listen to me, Stevie, come on.”
“I think he loved me, too,” Steve continued, the red still coming out ferociously, “He said so. He’s so smart. He couldn’t be wrong about that, could he? He loved me, and I...I said I’d...I’d be there…”
“You will be, Kid, come on, stay here,” Bucky interjected. “You’ll go home and be with him, and it’ll be okay because who the fuck cares. You just gotta stay awake until that happens, yeah? You stay awake, and then you’ll be able to go home and he’ll love you and you’ll love him and…” The words choked in Bucky’s throat, unable to come out anymore. And what? What happens then? “Steve? Stevie?” The sounds of screaming and gunshots and explosions became deafening in the absence of Steve’s reply.
“Stevie, come on, just a little while longer...Stevie, come on,” Bucky tried to reach out to him, knock against his shoulder so he could grumble and yell at him, like they had so many mornings before, but he couldn’t. His arm wouldn’t cooperate. He turned his head to look and found nothing. It was there before. What happened to it? “Steve? Stevie, have you seen my arm? It was...It was just here…” Bucky let out a sob, turning his head all the way to the left and seeing Steve, holding the picture. The one with Tony and Pepper. Smart. Steve did say he was smart.
Steve kept looking down at it, at him. The boy he fell in love with. The boy that fell in love with him. He stared and stared and never blinked.
Fuck. Bucky turned away, closing his eyes as violent sobs wracked against him, but still all he saw was red.
* * *
_You know I always worry about you, I don’t know why you bother to tell me not to._
_You’ll have to introduce me to Bucky sometime, I always wondered what was behind his perpetual guard-dog glare. I’m glad you have him, though. With you now, and just in life. I’m also glad you think I’m something worth fighting for. I wish there was something more I could do for you, or at least be there with you to keep you safe. I don’t think I’d be much of a soldier, I feel like we’d make a pretty good team._
_I can only give you something to come home to, though. So stay safe, okay?_
_Until then, I love you, Steve._ |
31dee0b4da7b442aa86f3e3466f2e4bb | ['5fcca081ed9e498a9ea85ee23a0dc5c9'] | “I’ve been in love with you since we were in middle school.” Mark replies. “You know that, right? I would never leave you over something like that, bunny, why are you thinking like that?”
And Donghyuck seems ready to break apart again, more tears threatening to spill over, and he says _I don’t know. I don’t even know_.
Mark wraps arms around Donghyuck’s waist, lets Donghyuck duck his head and get the last of his crying out against Mark’s neck.
Donghyuck only sits back up when he feels calm enough, face a bit red and eyes puffy- beautiful nonetheless.
“I want to marry you.” Mark says nonchalantly. “And I want to build a life with you. I want to watch you grow into Korea’s best dance teacher, I want to come home from hard days at work and know that I have you.”
Donghyuck does melt at talk of the future, warmth fills him from the inside out and he does melt into Mark’s arms, relaxes into them as if that was all he needed to hear. And Mark continues, hand rubbing Donghyuck’s back soothingly.
“I want us to share a place when you start college. If I work a job I can get us something, we won’t have to live in the dorms all separated, baby. Don’t you want to live together? We can have study dates and movie nights, except without supervision and a curfew-“ Mark laughs, “We can go late night grocery shopping because I know you enjoy it. I’ll do anything for you.”
_I’ll do anything for you._
There’s silence, long silence, and then Donghyuck mumbles- “C-Can we bring Min?”
Mark looks over Donghyuck’s shoulder at Donghyuck’s bearded dragon, sleeping soundly in a cage. He smiles.
-
(When Mark leaves for college, he and Donghyuck share a long kiss in Mark’s neighborhood. Donghyuck had been late waking up and the skateboard ride to Mark’s place seemed to take forever and a day, but Mark was at his house loading boxes into his car. Donghyuck tackles Mark, kisses his face for what seemed like hours, before helping him with the rest of the boxes. And once the trunk is closed Donghyuck kisses Mark’s lips until his own are numb, strawberry red.
“Drive safe.” Donghyuck says. “And call me when you get there, and switch roommates if you get a creepy one because you can never be too trustworthy, and eat well- please drink water, and never go a day without at least texting a smiley face or something! If you make me worry about your stupid ass because you forget to text me-“
“I won’t forget.” Mark laughs. “Want to talk to you all the time, anyway.”
Donghyuck frowns, but all in good fun. “You’re corny. Fuck off.”
Mark smiles and then something in his face changes, turns to longing, and he pulls Donghyuck against his chest, burying his nose in Donghyuck’s hair and inhaling. Donghyuck melts into it. Who fucking knows when he’ll get to be with Mark again. (Technically, Thanksgiving break- but being dramatic is fun.)
“So mean, baby.” Mark says. Donghyuck blinks back tears.
“You’re so smart.” Donghyuck says to avoid crying. His cheek is smushed against Mark’s chest.
Donghyuck giggles. “My boy going to school, fuck it up, Menneth.”
“Shut up,” Mark says while stifling a laugh, voice broken off at the ends and Donghyuck knows he’s crying. “You make the worst jokes, shut up.”
“You love me.”
Donghyuck can feel Mark’s smile.
“I do, bunny. More than anyone.”
When they untangle, Donghyuck watches Mark open the drivers seat door and it makes him flinch, but Mark doesn’t get in, he pulls a large mass of fabric from the front seat instead.
Then, Donghyuck’s holding a white hoodie with _SUPREME_ printed across the front.
“I hate you.” Donghyuck says, with just a little bit of genuineness to it. “I seriously, seriously can not stand you. I want to break up, now.”
Mark laughs hard with his whole body, almost doubling over.
“I’m serious!” Donghyuck whines. “You have a bunch of cute hoodies and you gave me this mess! What about the yellow one? Or that green striped one? You’re a menace!”
“I slept in that one.” Mark gestures to the supreme hoodie. “Smells the most like me.”
And Donghyuck, against his better judgement _,_ lifts the hoodie to his nose. It smells so much like Mark he finds himself blinking back tears again, it smells like Cinnamon and heterosexual fucking _Axe_ and Chamomile essential oil from the diffuser Donghyuck got Mark last Christmas, _because your room always smells like weed, you asshole._
Mark isn’t at all shocked when Donghyuck puts the hoodie on over his shirt. His boyfriend was all bark and no bite. Donghyuck wouldn’t say thank you, but the large hoodie blanketing his frame was enough.
“You look so small and cute in my stuff. It’s addicting. Maybe I should drop out and stay with you.” Mark says, smile playing on his lips.
Donghyuck seems like he wants to say _please do_ but he doesn’t. Instead, he says _shut up, idiot._ which basically means the same thing.
Mark, eventually, really has to go. He has a decent drive ahead of him that has the potential to turn into a super long one if he doesn’t beat morning traffic. Donghyuck stands outside of his window and watches him buckle his seatbelt and start the car.
Mark rolls his window down and looks Donghyuck over. _Super huge_ supreme hoodie and jeans that are cuffed up at the bottom. Black slip on vans. _He looks really gay_ , Mark thinks. _This is gay culture_.
“What are you staring at?” Donghyuck asks, but there’s no nip in his voice. There is a bit of a tremble, probably from the cold and his attempt to hide his feelings.
Mark sticks his head out of the car window a bit. “Come here, baby. Kiss me before I go?”
And Donghyuck jumps at the opportunity, leans down to connect their lips and drags out the kiss as long as he can, and then when they pull away he kisses both of Mark’s cheeks. He backs up a few steps, because his pride is still in there somewhere.
Donghyuck huffs out a breath. “I love you, Mark Lee.”
Mark smiles hard, says, “I love you more.”
And when Mark puts the car in drive and leaves Donghyuck behind him for now, maybe Donghyuck cries into the sleeve of the supreme sweater, skateboard cradled under his free arm as he walks because he has no energy to ride home.
Maybe he even takes a midday nap by himself, and not with Mark, and then wakes up and eats cup ramen and watches sad anime to fuck up his feelings more.
None of that matters when at 6pm that night, he gets a facetime call.)
**Author's Note:**
> hi thank you for reading!! i would appreciate comments and stuff like that so i dont feel like im screaming into the void ;-; i like knowing what made ppl laugh or feel certain ways about my writing! so talk to me in comments if you will. tysm - j | 6437b4b787d2453e938e1af85965ed37 | ['5fcca081ed9e498a9ea85ee23a0dc5c9'] |
maybe (just maybe) we're starting something good
**Author's Note:**
> hi!!!!! im kind of just posting this to let ppl know im alive lol. this was... SUPPOSED to be a flashback scene that's part of a longfic but that took a left for a lot of diff reasons sfdsfds um!!! sry my notes r always so long but updates r as follows:
>
> \- part three of long distance markhyuck is in the planning stages!
> \- i hope u guys enjoy this .. i wanna post more little writings like this so let me know if i should!!
> \- i made a listography for anyone interested in keepin up with with future #projects . on there u can see what im working on and planning! https://listography.com/USER
> \- thank u
**June 19 th, 2018 – RENJUN COMES TO THE MOVIE STORE**
“Huang Renjun! What brings you here?”
Renjun is wearing a big t-shirt and little shorts. He looks small and girly, thinks Yukhei, but 1. Renjun always looks like that, and 2. There isn’t anything wrong with it, Renjun is beautiful still.
Renjun is browsing movies to the left of the counter Yukhei is sitting at as he handles the slow business all on his own. _Handle_ means Yukhei plays Animal Crossing on his 3DS XL and eats mike and ikes while listening to the radio he'd convinced Doyoung to let him keep at the counter. He’d said it was for the customers but they both knew it was really for him. Yukhei likes slow business days because he doesn't have to pretend to take his job seriously.
“Just looking.” Renjun says quietly.
“You’re in the VHS section.” Yukhei says, as if Renjun can’t tell. “You into vintage stuff? I never took you for a hipster.” Yukhei pauses and giggles. “Actually, I kind of did.”
Renjun smiles. “I would never call myself a hipster. I let other people do it for me. Hipsters who call themselves hipsters are posers.”
“That’s a good philosophy.” Yukhei nods. “So VHS, huh?”
“Yeah,” Renjun finds a movie that he likes, it’s evident by the way he smiles as he reads the back cover. “My mom has a VCR. She gave it to me recently, probably because I use it more than her anyway, so I’m here to get new movies.”
Yukhei doesn’t say anything else until Renjun approaches the counter with three tapes. Yukhei reads as he scans.
“Flower of Flesh and Blood, that one’s gory, it was okay though- Sun Valley Serenade, and Beauty and the Beast! That’s $10.25.”
“I really like this store,” Renjun notes as he swipes his card. “It’s really affordable.”
“It’s our only good quality. We haven’t updated our inventory in like a year. Movie stores are dying out. We suck.”
Renjun laughs and it’s melodic, and Yukhei tells himself _no, heart, absolutely not—you can’t fucking do this right now._
Yukhei is almost sad when Renjun has his bag of tapes and it’s time for their short time together to be done. He hates it, this weird nagging feeling in his chest. Attachment.
Renjun stands in front of the counter, bag and receipt in hand, for a longer time than any customer usually does. He looks at Yukhei like he’s contemplating something, but it doesn’t feel like the movies where they’re caught in each other’s eyes and music is softly playing in the background- there’s a political debate happening in static waves through Yukhei’s radio and they’re awkwardly staring at one another in hopes that the other boy will speak.
Yukhei speaks. He says, “Uh-“ and is absolutely fucking relieved when Renjun cuts him off because he didn’t actually have anything useful to say.
“Do you want to, come over sometime and watch these?” Renjun raises the bag. “We haven’t spoken since school let out, because you know, you’re more Mark’s friend than mine… I wouldn’t mind hanging out?”
Yukhei says nothing. He kind of wants to explode.
If he was playing a DS game, the screen would light up in colors, something like
_**CUTE BOY WANTS YOU TO COME OVER** _
And his options would be
* _**SAY NO**_
* _**SAY YES**_
* _**CRY**_
The second and third option look equally enticing. Yukhei, for the sake of his dignity, goes for the second and saves the third for later.
“That would be really cool, Renjun.” Yukhei nods lightly. “We should like, um, totally. Do that.”
Renjun brightens, swallows the anxiety that came with the previous moment of silence.
“Cool! My number is uh- give me your phone?”
And Yukhei does, after spending 30 seconds trying to find it under all the snack bags he has lying on the counter, and watches Renjun make a contact for himself, _RJ_ with two sunflower emojis.
_He doesn't have a contact photo_ , thinks Yukhei. _That means I have like, an excuse to ask him for a selfie.
_ That thought in itself makes his blood pressure rise, but he's snapped out of the feverish feeling when Renjun hands him his phone back. "I have to go now. If I'm gone with the car for more than like, two seconds my mom gets antsy." Says Renjun with playful frusturaton, and Yukhei is _endeared_ , he's _swooning_.
“I’ll, uh, message you then?” Is what Yukhei says when Renjun actually makes his way to the door.
Renjun turns toward the counter, hand still on the door handle and says, "Message me?"
"Um," Yukhei stutters. "Yes? About- the movie?"
Renjun tilts his head to the side, genuine confusion spread across his features. "Movie?"
What the hell is going on? Did Yukhei mishear him? Is Renjun even here right now, or is this a heat induced mirage? Were those mike and ikes he just ate, or was it something else? Is-
Renjun throws his entire body back in a laugh, snapping Yukhei out of the inner turmoil he was experiencing.
"You looked just like that gif of the lady with all the math symbols around her head." Renjun wipes a tear from his eye with a breath. "Anyway, I was only joking. Of course you can message me, I meant what I said about hanging out."
Yukhei stares at the shorter boy blankly for a long time. Then he laughs too, out of relief, not because anything is funny. "You seriously got me, dude. I'm dumb. You see this?" Yukhei raises his coke can. "Dumb bitch juice."
Renjun giggles and bites his lip. He says, "I'll see you soon, Yukhei." Before pushing his way through the door.
Too-bright sunlight pours in through the open door and it engulfs Renjun as he leaves like an angel returning to heaven, which is a very accurate to describe Huang Renjun in Yukhei's opinion. When the door closes the light leaves, and all that's left behind is the ghosts of his laughter and the sounds of the radio station finally playing a song after like, two hours of old people yelling. Yukhei looks to his left at the shelf where Renjun had just been browsing movies. There's an empty space where Flower of Flesh and Blood used to be.
_Yukhei swallows down the feeling of attachment. He would deal with it later._
**Author's Note:**
> i hope you enjoyed this! reminder that my listography for upcoming works is here: https://listography.com/USER
> pls leave ur comments and kudos and stuff ! i enjoy talking with yall and seeing tht ppl enjoy what i create after all haha have a good afternoon xx |
8d8316a092da4aafa40b0be34a7d90fe | ['60128657e57d429b94fdf346c48a1574'] | Candle
**Entry tags:** |
LINK, LINK, LINK
---|---
In the 4 years, 7 months, and 264 days he has lived on Earth, he has avoided human commercial establishments. Shopping for recreation is not a Vulcan past time, and when he has needed goods for his home, he has ordered them from a Vulcan retailer. Now, though, he needs an item which serves no logical purpose, and he must therefore venture into a human store. Not only is the store cluttered with useless objects, its lay-out is highly inefficient, forcing shoppers to wander through cavernous aisles in order to locate the goods they need. Furthermore, the employees seem determined to avoid assisting the clientele. Three times Spock is on the verge of asking for help, and each time the blue-shirted employee dashes away on seemingly urgent business. Not even in his conflicted boyhood has he felt so immersed in illogic. Still, he feels no doubt about the purpose of this endeavor.
After 20 minutes, he locates what he is looking for -- a decorative candle. Many decorative candles, in fact. More varieties than he can count in a single glance, stacked on shelves that span the whole length of the aisle. His research did not prepare him for this dilemma, and he wonders if it would be better to return to his living quarters and send a message to his mother. But he rejected that option when he began his research several weeks ago. Discussing the situation with Amanda would, of course, have been been far more efficient than the hours he has spent watching movies and surreptitiously reading women's magazines, but what he is doing must be done alone. This is perhaps not a logical decision, but what he intends to do is not logical to begin with.
Paradoxically -- but somewhat reassuringly -- logic can be of assistance even in an illogical situation. Like a cartographer mapping a previously uncharted world, he moves systematically down the aisle, surveying each candle carefully. Some are scented while others are not; some are thin, elegant tapers and some are squat but intricately carved pillars. Scented candles might conflict with the flavors of the meal he intends to prepare, he reasons, and even his careful observation has not allowed him to determine what aroma she might prefer. This realization enables him to eliminate a full 51% of the selection. Next, he eliminates the shorter, fatter candles; empirical data from the romantic films he has viewed indicate that long, tapering candles are more frequently employed in romantic dinners than their wider cousins, which appear to be primarily used for decoration. Finally, he settles on two plain, white candles and simple glass holders. They will, he believes, convey the right impression.
Now he is ready for his final task: learning to cook her favorite meal. He believes this task will take 2 to 4 weeks, not very long in comparison to the 6.2 months he has already required to identify his feelings and resolve to act on them. It is, however, potentially long enough for her resistance to Cadet Kirk to crumble. He resolves to learn to cook a bit faster. | 64562415325a43728cfec174d4aab32b | ['60128657e57d429b94fdf346c48a1574'] | "I do not underestimate you, Narcissa."
"Mmm," she says, feigning boredom and leaning against the doorframe. "Can't underestimate anyone in these times, I suppose. Constant vigilance and all that."
"You misunderstand me. I do not underestimate _you_ , Narcissa."
"Thank you," she says, looking him in the eye. She smooths a wrinkle in his robe, a gesture more affectionate than sexual. He looks baffled, and she smiles in spite of her exhaustion. "You know I haven't come here to betray you."
She steps around him and saunters toward the couch.
"If I wanted to do that, I would have drugged your tea and asked you questions."
She settles into a corner of the sofa, her back against the armrest and her feet tucked beneath her. Severus is off-balance now too, but also -- if she flatters herself -- intrigued and a bit admiring. It's sexy, even if it isn't sex, and her mind feels awake in a way that it hasn't in a long time.
"Didn't think of that, did you? You might start carrying around your own flask. I wouldn't do it; I don't betray my child's protectors. I can't vouch for Bella though."
Severus settles on the couch beside her, though not close enough to give her any illusions about his intentions for the night.
"Have you really tired of your golden boy, Narcissa?" hessked, looking at her shrewdly.
"No," she says and wishes she had a glass of wine to twirl between her fingers. She hadn't realized how much she depended on these small gestures to entrance and enthrall the men around her; without them, she feels strangely naked. "I will always love Lucius; he gave me Draco. But it's boring, actually, terribly, terribly boring to be married to someone who's falling apart. It's such a stupid thing to be bothered about, but I thought I might be alright if only I could have an interesting conversation with someone. I do so miss our banter."
"And you came to me?"
"You're a witty man, Severus," she says, forcing herself to look at him instead of her non-existent glass of wine. She will be honest tonight; she won't play the coquette. Otherwise, she won't be able to forgive herself for what she's done -- or tried to do.
"And are you satisfied?"
"Yes. It's better, I think, than what I came here for."
"And have you said all you wish to say?"
His eyes are softer than she's ever seen them. She swallows, and her voice catches.
"No."
"Then what is it, Narcissa?"
The tension in his body belies the softness in his eyes; he doesn't know what she's going to say, whether it will endanger them both, but he'll listen anyway. It's kind, she thinks.
"Do you think it will be better after the war's won? Less cruel?"
She believes in the righteousness of their cause; only, she had not understood the price of fighting for it.
"No," he says, his expression unreadable. It's a risk not to lecture her; they both know it. If she were interrogated for some reason, her memory of that single word would be damning. She nods slowly, focusing her whole being on gratitude for his honesty rather than fear of what lay ahead.
"Do you have what you need?" he asks. He looks at her searchingly. It's different from the way he'd looked at her when she'd come to him to beg for Draco's life, less calculating. They're just two people now, she thinks, as much as either of them could afford to be.
"Almost," she says. Her heart is beating faster than it ought to, and she follows her impulse to lay her head against his shoulder. His whole body goes still for a moment, and though he does not relax against her, he does not ask her to leave.
"You will survive this, Narcissa," he says. "And your son with you."
She decides to believe him. |
a757858171c54144aa2f2bde905c6910 | ['60212d489e6340299515fb2af69615f8'] | “My visions—” she started hesitantly, before stopping and regrouping. “It's been almost a year for me. And every time I've had a vision, you got stabbed when I tried to leave. But then Lucy & Wyatt showed up, without you, and um—” She paused again, blinking back tears. Her voice dropped. “They told me you were dead, Rufus. That you'd all gone to 1888 to rescue me, and you'd died.”
Rufus squinted at her in confusion. “So I know it's been a long few days and nobody’s slept much, but I'm pretty sure you all just got back from 1886. We never even saw you in 1888, your note said you were already gone - so how could I possibly have died there?”
Lucy looked up to find identical looks of confusion on the faces of Mason and Agent Christopher. By now, the rest of the group had disembarked the Lifeboats, and her Wyatt piped up. “This isn't the first time we’ve rescued Jiya, Rufus.”
A beat of silence engulfed the bunker as the Lucys and Wyatts exchanged glances, a silent debate over who was going to talk. The decision was deferred to the pair who had spearheaded the journey, and after another moment, Lucy’s future counterpart piped up.
“For us - we’ve had to live through the last five years without you. Five years, Rufus,” she reiterated, verklempt. “When we went with you and Flynn to get Jiya in 1888 three days ago - your time - there was no note. We went to the saloon where Jiya had been working and it, uh - it kind of all went to shit. You ended up getting shot on the porch… there was nothing we could do. It's —” She paused, blinking back tears. “It's been awful, Rufus. We’ve spent every day since then trying to figure out how to undo it. The best we could figure was to pull Jiya out earlier, figuring without her there, the events of 1888 wouldn't be the same.” She offered him a small smile, almost bittersweet. “Looks like we might have finally managed a mission that was an unequivocal success.”
“So when the two of you showed up two days ago and said you needed these two—” he gestured to the present-day pair — “to go rescue Jiya—”
“Never happened for us. That's rewritten history.”
Rufus stood, dumbfounded for a moment. Lucy noticed that Christopher and Mason, while not unaffected, seemed significantly less stunned. This would have been normal for them, she supposed; the team briefing them on a completely different reality than the one they remembered. Still, it wasn't typically one that hit so close to home, and Mason in particular was beginning to look a bit shattered as the notion that Rufus had been gone began to sink in.
“But he’s - he’s here now, all’s well, yes?” Mason implored the group.
Future Lucy nodded. “Jiya’s back safely, Rufus never died — all’s well. For you at least.”
Mason's brow furrowed. “For me?”
“For those of you who never lived it any differently. For us - who’ve lived five years without him - and even them,” she said, taking a moment to compose herself as she gestured at her present-day counterparts, “It won't fade so easily. The memories of Chinatown… the years without him. You'll have to be patient with those of us who remember the original timeline. It's… it wasn't easy.”
“Don't let Lucy undersell it,” Future Wyatt said, voice uncharacteristically soft. “It was awful.”
Silence reigned for a moment as the group looked at each other, before Rufus gestured to his teammates. “C’mere,” he said, pulling Future Lucy & Wyatt in for a hug, followed by their present-day counterparts. He released them, but only let them pull back far enough for one of his hands to land on each of their shoulders, forming an awkward sort of triangle. “I was really dead?”
Wyatt nodded. “Emma shot you. We tried to stop the bleeding, but there was nothing I could do. Jiya was devastated. She'd been willing to stay in 1888 to spare you and it still hadn't mattered. Coming back here without you - I don't know how we would have made it if they hadn't shown up.” He tilted his head towards the future versions of himself and Lucy, the latter of whom stood with tears still brimming in her eyes.
Rufus pulled the duo back in for another hug, clapping them both firmly on the back. “I'm here now. No more awful, okay?”
Wyatt shook his head. “I'm just so sorry, man. About Jiya - about all of this. You were right to be angry. If I hadn't been so blindly trusting of Jessica — we could have avoided all of this.”
“It's okay—”
“It's really not. But I'm going to do my best to keep my head screwed on straight from here on out - you have my word.” A pause and then, more softly, “We’re a team, Rufus. This only works if it's the three of us together.” Another pause as he gestured behind him, “Look, it took another set of us to replace you.”
“Guess that means, what - I'm worth two men, then? Take that, old white dudes who came up with the three-fifths compromise!”
Wyatt laughed. “All I know is I'm just glad to have you back. Our world kinda stopped spinning without you here.”
They both nodded against his shoulder before pulling back and stepping aside. Jiya, still standing nearby, looped an arm through his, and the group faded into a comfortable silence.
Reunion hugs completed, Future Wyatt spoke up. “With all of this timeline nonsense, I'm gonna guess you’ve done this before, but - I've got somebody here who wants to meet you.” | 22c894600715467fae074a781bf23e11 | ['60212d489e6340299515fb2af69615f8'] | Lucy was agog. “You can't answer _this_ question.”
“We talked about this - I can't answer everything.”
Voice rising, Lucy threw her hands up. “It's kind of a big one!”
Softly, gently, her future self replied. “After what she just said, do you really need me to?”
“But — Jessica—”
“I told you not to worry about her.”
“But— I thought —”
Future Lucy shrugged. “You made some assumptions. We didn't correct them. Couldn't correct them. But just because you assume something doesn't make it true.”
Flailing, Lucy replied. “Of course we assumed! What else should we have thought? Why wouldn't we assume that the kid you showed up with is the kid we knew about?”
Her outburst earned her a smile from her future counterpart - pitying, almost condescending. “But did you know, really? You trusted the word of a known liar and a traitor - someone who had manipulated and double-crossed you - all of you. Looked past things that didn't quite fit - like a precocious, history-loving child with curly brown hair and blue eyes - in favor of what you thought you knew. We tend to do that, you know - ignore those little warnings to make things fit neatly in the box we’ve defined. Cognitive dissonance and all.”
Lucy deflated. “Kind of like Wyatt did with Jessica.”
“Same principle. Only now it's you who was so hung up on her that you looked past what was staring you in the face - sometimes literally.”
Circling back, Lucy tried again. “So Rosie’s — she’s —”
Her future counterpart shrugged, glancing at the child on her lap. “You tell me.”
Blowing out a breath, Lucy stood - needing a walk, needing some space, some air. The past was good for that, at least, fresh air and open spaces that they couldn't get in the bunker. She clambered down the rings and started towards the path where the guys had gone, walking to clear her head. Rosie was _hers_? She'd spent hours wondering how things had transpired, how they'd gotten her from Jessica, how she'd ended up agreeing to play happy family with the two of them. It made far more sense that none of that had had to happen - that Jessica had lied and that Rosie was theirs. Kind of a big spoiler about her own life - so much for not knowing things that might change. Made mentioning Rosebud to Hedy Lamarr seem like nothing.
Her thoughts were interrupted by her own voice yelling at her from the hatch of the Lifeboat. “Don't wander far! If I lose you, I’ll hear about it from my Wyatt _and_ from yours. I've known him long enough to stay off the receiving end of that.”
Lucy spun around and looked back at her blankly. _Wyatt_. Did he know about this? When they'd talked last night, he seemed to be operating under the same impression that she had been. This would devastate him, yet another lie from Jessica - even if it did make things easier in the long run.
Easier being a relative term.
December, Rosie had said; there must have been some timeline anomaly at play, or else she was quite premature. That thought broke her heart, the precious girl in there getting such a rough start in life - as if growing up in an underground bunker wasn’t rough enough. So when her future counterpart slipped skillfully down the rings, Lucy wheeled on her.
“What's up with the two birthdays?” Lucy asked, frustration pushing an unusual aggressiveness into her tone.
Future Lucy frowned. “She wasn't supposed to talk about that.”
“She's four. It slipped out.”
Sighing, Future Lucy shook her head. “Its a long story. Hopefully doesn't matter for you.”
“So when is her actual birthday, exactly?” Lucy looked at her counterpart who, as usual, _wouldn’t answer the damn question_.
Her future self just stared back, maddeningly expressionless.
“Are you seriously not going to tell me?”
She still didn’t reply, but the look on her face made it clear that she had no intention of answering the question.
“‘Cause she told me December, and that doesn't make any sense... it's already May. Some crazy time travel bullshit happening there?” Sending no change in her future self’s demeanor, she thought for a moment, and - a memory niggling at the back of her mind - tried another tack. “Why didn’t you want me to get my cheek checked out?”
“What?” Future Lucy said, drawing back.
“On the night you arrived. Agent Christopher wanted me to go get it x-rayed. Reading about Curie made me remember. You were weirdly against it. It's been bugging me ever since.”
Her future self shrugged, an attempt to be deceptively light failing miserably. Because it was _herself_ , and she could spot her own tells a million miles away. “Because you didn’t need it. I had the exact same injury, going to the hospital was a giant waste of time that only served to stress everybody out.”
“Really,” Lucy replied flatly. “It seemed like there was more to it than that.”
Future Lucy looked back at her and shrugged. “What more can I say?”
“The truth?”
Her future self looked torn, like there was something she so badly wanted to say. Finally, hesitatingly - “Have you ever had an x-ray?”
“Yeah, when I was 17. I broke my arm on a ski trip.” A pause and then, “Why are you asking me that? _You_ broke your arm at 17 on a ski trip!”
“Yeah.” She paused and then started to talk, stopped, started again. “So you know the first thing…” She stopped again. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I really really can’t. It’s - this can’t come from me.”
“You are me,” Lucy replied tersely, beyond frustrated now. “What is it that you know that you can’t tell me?” |
03c6fcc7530944b395dc80310cfb774b | ['603aa0688f4c47aab7a351e617b5cf30'] | Inside was a fucking warzone.
Everywhere that Stan walked, there was another person in his path. Some wanted to speak with him, others were simply just trying to get the ballroom decorated and organized. He had been through a few meetings, but they really never required his presence, it was more of a customary move. Stan felt panic creep up on him as he left his father’s study, and the only thing keeping him grounded was Ben pressed to his side, arms linked together. Stan might have asked Ben to marry him had he not known Ben’s affinity for women. God knows he’d run the kingdom a whole hell of a lot better.
“Stanley! Oh, my goodness, Stanley, there you are, we have to go right now. We have six outfit ideas in your room, and I need you to try them all. I want to know exactly which one you look best in, you have to be as impressive as possible,” Stan’s mother cried, gripping him by the cheeks. He shook out of her grasp, and looked to Ben for help. Ben sighed, before looking up at the queen.
“You know our Stanley is going to woo over the entire ballroom even if he showed up in a potato sack. Look at that face, that dimple! Such a handsome bastard,” Ben said, also pinching his cheek, which was not the kind of help Stan was looking for, but his mother smiled nonetheless.
“Of course. You’re going to look perfect. But I don’t want you in a potato sack, so let us go.”
The walk to Stan’s room was uncomfortable, the tension he felt radiating from his mother very palpable. As soon as they entered, Stan wanted to vomit. At least eight young servant girls were standing in his room, whispering quietly to themselves, but the fell to silence as soon as he stepped in.
“Ladies,” Stan acknowledged them with a nod, and they all curtsied and blushed tremendous shades of red. Stan wished he found women desirable; this would have been a wet dream.
“Okay, Stanley, we’re going to go through them all, and then I think Ben and I can come decide on the best one.” Stan wanted to cry when she said this. Just another thing she had to control, and he did not get a single say. Typical.
“Actually, your Highness, I think the best choice would come from Stan himself. I promise I’ll make him pick. Why don’t you go along and take care of yourself? Maybe a bath? I can assure everything is going along schedule perfectly,” Ben said to the queen, and Stan could have died from thankfulness. His mother looked as though she might say something, but thought better of it.
“You’re right, Benjamin. I need to get myself ready. Thank you so much,” she said, and gave Ben a quick kiss on the cheek. He bowed as she left, along with a few of her servant girls. Now Stan was positive that she would have traded Stan in for Ben in a heartbeat. As soon as she left, Ben let out the breath he’d been holding.
“Fuck, that could have been disastrous. I could see you two killing each other in my mind, it wasn’t pretty.” Stan giggled, and flopped onto his bed. He was so used to having a million people in his business, that having all those girls in the room didn’t faze him. He knew they’d never say anything to the queen; they feared her as much as Stan did.
“Alright, let’s get this started. And I am saying right off the bat that I’m not wearing the pink or purple outfits, it’s not fucking happening,” The two girls pulled their outfits down, and hung them back up in the closet. “I’ll try the other four though.” And Stan got right to stripping down to his underwear. He had no issues being naked in front of all these people, and he knew that as much as he wasn’t interested in them, it was a treat for the girls. Stan wouldn’t deny his own attractiveness, and he knew how some of the girls felt about him around here. He wasn’t an idiot.
“Okay, let’s start with the navy blue. I think it’s your worst colour, but I’m willing to give it a try,” Ben said, and flopped down on his bed, making himself comfortable. The ladies quickly helped Stan into the ensemble, fingertips grazing his skin as much as possible. Once he was dressed, Ben gagged. “Next!”
And they did this for each outfit, finally deciding on a deep emerald green suit, complementing Stan’s tan complexion from the sun, as Ben said. Stan trusted him on more pressing issues than this, and didn’t question him. Admiring himself in the mirror, Stan believed that this was his best look out of them all, and nodded at the ladies in waiting behind him.
“Thank you, ladies, we’re going to stick with the green. You are dismissed,” Stan said softly, and kissed each of their hands as they curtsied and left the room. As soon as the door shut behind the last girl, he could hear their squeals and giggles, and smiled to himself. His mother was always so rude to the servants, but Stan saw no point. They did their job well and were always kind, there was no shame in being kind back.
“Alright, heartbreaker, you’ve done well. Now we have approximately two hours until we need to be walking into that ballroom, if we lock the door, we could probably hide away until then?” Ben said, holding out his hands. Stan walked over and grabbed them, pulling Ben into a standing position.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Stan asked, a mischievous glint in his eye. Ben smirked back. | 82e8e342aa804987bc5e03ed928c6d5f | ['603aa0688f4c47aab7a351e617b5cf30'] |
Promises
Stanley Uris did not like to be bothered while he worked. He found himself needing absolute silence and serenity while he wrote essays on birds and wildlife adventures he had been on. His study gave him the exact kind of peace he needed; quiet, closed off and cozy. The walls were lined with endless books and manuscripts; some he had read, others he had not had the chance to. The couches were soft and lined with throw pillows, but he rarely ever sat at them. It was more decorative than anything. His pride and joy, however, was the mahogany wood desk that sat close to the tall window overlooking his yard. It was expensive; probably the most expensive thing he owned. He had saved up for months to buy it. When he finally could afford it, he had cried a little when the delivery men had placed it in the room. It felt like the final piece he had been missing in his writings was here, and he could finally produce the content he wanted.
And produce he did. He worked harder than ever and so many of his essays were picked up and published in journals. Even at the young age of 24, he was becoming more well-known every single time he had something published and people were more in demand of him than ever. He was being sent on journeys across the world to study creatures, birds especially, and to go home and write about his experiences. He had discovered new species, and even helped on new theories regarding mimicry and adaptations in animals. Stanley Uris had become a real scientific legend.
But nobody was more demanding of him than Stan’s boyfriend, Bill Denbrough. Of course, he knew Stan had work to do, and yes, he had work to be doing himself, with the publisher’s meeting regarding his new horror book coming up very quickly, but it was so hard when he could hear Stan’s sighing and scribbling through the doors to his personal study. Bill preferred to write sprawled out in the kitchen, papers thrown haphazardly, or sometimes even on the floor. He handwrote so many ideas before typing them up, whereas Stan knew exactly what he wanted to say right from the get go, and everything was always so formal and _perfect._ Everything about Stan was perfect. From his writing to his study to his curly hair to his always pressed clothing. Bill felt like the absolute opposite next to him. His writing was in disarray, his hair was always all over the place, his clothes a little rumpled, even if Stan had pressed them for him. Bill was constantly worried that he was too messy for Stan, but Stan assured him that it kept him from going too crazy, and always left him with something to do. Bill was a mess, but Stan would not have him any other way. They went about their writings separately, and came together at night to balance out the crazy and the calm.
On this particular day, however, Bill was having none of it. He was antsy, so antsy, and he couldn’t seem to get any writing done. He was pacing, eavesdropping against Stan’s door, then pacing some more. Finally, once he had practically burned a whole in the floor, He grabbed two wine glasses and a bottle from the shelf, pouring them both a glass. He carried them to Stan’s door and knocked gently, before letting himself in. Stan didn’t turn around, but mumbled a soft ‘hi honey’ when he sauntered in.
Bill admired the back of Stan’s body; broad shoulders, muscular back that Bill could see through the thin white t-shirt he was sporting, curly hair that was illuminated golden from the setting sun shining brightly through the large framed window. He looked… heavenly. It only resolved Bill’s mentality that they were not going to be working anymore tonight. He placed one of the wine glasses on the desk and leaned against it, watching Stan read some notes he had in a journal from a recent trip to Cambodia they had gone on.
“Mmm, thank you. This is what I need to get through this,” Stan said, reaching for the glass of tantalizing red. Bill placed his fingers over Stan’s as they gripped the stem, and he finally lifted his eyes to meet Bill’s baby blues.
“B-but here is a t-thought I’m having; we c-c…we call it a night, and just enjoy each other’s c-c-company,” Bill said, rubbing his thumb over Stan’s. Stan lifted one eyebrow, catching the subtle seductive undertone in Bill’s voice.
“As much as I would love to do that, I have to finish this chapter. It has to be out by the end of the week,” Stand said, and turned back to his journal, reading and marking little passages and doodles as he went. Bill rolled his eyes.
“You have n-never, ever missed a d-deadline, and taking a n-n-night off is not going to ch-change that. You’ll have the work out, d-don’t worry,” Bill whined. Stan lifted his think framed glasses off his face and placed them on the desk to turn and look at Bill fully. He took a very long sip of his wine, admiring Bill’s grey long sleeve top, how it rested just perfectly over his muscular shoulders, and grazed his eyes higher over his neck, where a soft pink hickey was fading from a previous engagement they’d found themselves in a few days ago. He smiled fondly at the memory. He looked right into Bill’s eyes and saw that he was not going to back away from this ‘night off’ business quite so easily.
“Bill, baby, I love you. But I have to get this done, I really must. I have a very strict deadline that— “ |
c4c78500c4c14c8bb2247e8c7bfbcae7 | ['6048588b19a049c2a87ad75eb6e5f148'] |
through fast dreams
**Author's Note:**
> In case anyone is curious: my Hawke looks just like the default one, except for the changes mentioned here.
>
> Title from "You're the Only One" by Maria Mena because it's my Happy Fenhawke song.
>
> Set during late Act 1.
>
His life with Danarius had been painful and soul-crushing in too many ways to count, but there had also been a sort of routine to the torments. While his former master and Hadriana were cruel and depraved, they were also complacent and kept to variations on the same handful of horrors, iterated ad infinitum. Fenris came to know what to expect.
With Hawke in his life, he had come to learn to expect _anything_. The mage was completely unpredictable and his actions seldom held reason to anyone but himself. Case in point, this was how Fenris found himself sitting on a sun-warmed cliff by one of the beaches on the Wounded Coast. Hawke had come by the mansion with his brother and the bloodmage, asking Fenris to join them for an excursion to the Wounded Coast. The first heatwave of the summer had arrived and Hawke wanted to make sure a beach or two were clear and safe for Kirkwall's citizens to visit. Why Hawke would even choose to bother, much less care, Fenris couldn't fathom, but he'd heard whispers of slavers so he had agreed.
All which somehow deteriorated into Fenris watching two shirtless Hawke brothers spar in the hopes of teaching the bloodmage better self-defense. It might have come about due to the near-beheading Merrill had received earlier, courtesy of a stray slaver, before Carver pushed her out of harm's way. It was the only reason Fenris could think of for this display.
A display that was incredibly distracting, due to Hawke's... everything, but especially his freckles.
It wasn't that he had never noticed them before. They were the third thing Fenris had noted about Hawke when he first met the mage, after the shock of auburn hair and piercing hazel-grey eyes. But that had been in Umbralis, with winter waiting just around the corner.
Now it was Molioris and what had once been a generous smattering of freckles had become an all-out onslaught, marching down his arms and torso like an invading army. They drew attention to his wide shoulders and unusually sturdy build, the thick hair on his front and arms. Even with the light tan from working outdoors so much, Hawke was still very fair compared to Tevinter standards and Fenris had never met anyone with that kind of complexion before.
Fenris imagined that he found Hawke as exotic as Hawke found him.
"—and when you're about to be cut in half, you just do this," Hawke called out, grabbing his staff with both hands placed wide apart and raised it sideway in front of himself. Carver's greatsword hit it edgewise with a great clash but then bounced off the staff.
"Creators!" Merrill gasped and clasped her hand in front of her mouth, her eyes wide as saucers. "That was incredible! But..." A small frown appeared between her brows. "Shouldn't it have broken?"
"It should have," Hawke agreed with an impish smile, "If it didn't have a core of enchanted iron."
" _Enchanted_ iron?" Carver asked. "You said it was a spell!"
Hawke winced. "Oops."
"How much gold did you put into that?"
"You would put a price on your brother's life? You wound me, Carver." Hawke theatrically placed his hand over his heart, but then shrugged in the face of Carver's unimpressed glare. "Don't worry, I took it out as payment from that last job from Worthy."
"But you came home with a teyrn's ransom from that job." Narrowing his eyes, Carver thrust his sword into the sand. "Garrett, what did you do?"
Hawke winced. "I suppose one of the Seneschal's candelabra _might_ have been misplaced around that time?"
"You are unbelievable!" Carver scowled and charged at his brother. However, Hawke had already thrown his staff towards Merrill and set off into a run. Merrill caught the staff, mindful of the sharp blades on both ends, and watched in delight as the brothers chased each other across the beach.
"I don't see what the big deal is!" Hawke shouted over his shoulder, voice lilting with mirth, "I get to stay alive, we dined like kings for a week, mother got that fine new dress and everyone got to laugh at the Seneschal's fit! Everyone won!"
Carver made a noise of utmost exasperation as he tried to get a grip on his brother's bushy hair. "Andraste's flaming sword, Garrett, you are a menace!"
"Fenris!" Hawke called, barely intelligible through his laughter, as he neared the cliff Fenris was occupying, "Save me!"
Fenris never even hesitated in grabbing Hawke's out-stretched hand and pulling him up beside him, lyrium glowing painfully as he used it to take most of the mage's weight. The pain was so brief it barely registered, and whatever lingered was forgotten in the face of Hawke's brilliant smile. Fenris noted that the thin slanting scar between Hawke's eyes had become even more prominent, situated in the sea of freckles as it was.
Hawke raised his arm as if to sling it around Fenris' neck, then stopped himself and squeezed his clothed shoulder instead, still beaming. "You are a wonderful friend."
Carver almost ran into the rockface but caught himself with his hands before his face got intimately acquainted with the stone. The cliff was tall enough that he had no way of getting up on his own, so he took a step back and barked, "Garrett!"
"Nuh-uh," Hawke said and shook his head, still breathless with laughter. "You'll have to catch me first." Then he actually stuck his tongue out.
_"How are you the oldest?"_
Watching the two brothers bicker, with Merrill was giggling hard enough to be clutching her stomach in the background, Fenris thought that maybe — just maybe — there were different kinds of mages after all.
At the very least, some made him want to kiss every inch of their exotic, freckled skin.
**Author's Note:**
> Umbralis = Firstfall = November
>
> Molioris = Bloomingtide = May
>
>
> Unbeta'd. Con-crit is always welcome. | 31fc417ae4c84e8f9a3bca6fcb410995 | ['6048588b19a049c2a87ad75eb6e5f148'] |
What's In A Name
**Author's Note:**
> So there was LINK about the fact that one of Steve's guns is made by the brand _Daniel Defense_ , because LINK is eagle-eyed and resourceful. Then this fic kinda wrote itself.
>
> Yes, I know that image is from the later seasons but _shhh!_ work with me here, okay? (｡◡‿◕｡❁)
>
> Blessings and cake upon LINK who whipped this thing into shape with her insights, knowledge of firearms and for wrangling my wordiness into submission. ～✨⋆˚ °
One of the biggest advantages of the brand new offices for the Governor's Task Force (which really did need a new name) was the abundance of glass walls. Thanks to them Steve had eyes on the whole of the premises from his private office, even whether someone was coming in through the main doors by checking the reflections and light glares. It allowed him to keep a surreptitious eye on his new team as well.
It wasn't that he didn't trust them. They'd proven themselves to be both competent and loyal but they were still civilians. Steve needed to know _exactly_ what the full extent of their capabilities were in order to effectively command them in the field. It was vital intel gathering.
Which was why this was such a perfect opportunity. The arsenal he'd requisitioned had been delivered that morning and his team was now in the process of checking the firearms. Steve watched them work under the guise of filling out paperwork. It wasn't a complete lie. He was simply multitasking, which wasn't that difficult to do — the abbreviations and codes were different but the forms were depressingly familiar.
So far there were no faults to be found in the proceedings. The table closest to the the newly-designated armory lockers had been put to use, which Danny had insisted on putting on an oilcloth cover on first, citing he had "previous experiences with such accidents waiting to happen." The guns were efficiently stripped and laid out neatly as the individual parts were cleaned and then reassembled. Kono was a bit slow on the disassembling, something which would be improved with practice, while both Chin and Danny had a tendency to struggle a bit with the smaller recoil springs.
Steve was carefully taking notes on all this when he saw Danny frown down at the MK18 in his hands and then turn to ask the other two something. Steve couldn't make out the exact words, only the interrogative tone and the carefree, almost teasing replies. Nothing that was _actually_ serious, then, Steve reasoned and let himself ease back into his chair.
Danny didn't seem to share this view as he put the half-stripped rifle down with the other parts on the table and headed to Steve's office, apparently not reassured in the least. Yanking the door open, he cocked his hip against the jamb and crossed his arms, a headstrong tilt of his head.
"I take it this your idea of a joke then?" he asked and freed one arm to gesture at the table before crossing them again.
That was not the opening Steve had expected. With a frown, he asked, "What are you talking about?"
"What am-- What am I talking about? Are you serious?" Danny shot back through that derisive little chuckle of his. "Do me a favor, didn't you sign off on a delivery just this morning? The one we — your team and not you, I might add — are going through right this very minute? The one you are _watching us_ go through because you might think you are subtle, pal, but let me tell you, you are not."
Steve let the comment slide. Danny's arms had escaped their perch and were gesturing all over the the place in some kind of jury-rigged semaphore. Steve couldn't help it but whenever Danny worked himself into a rant, he was reminded of Taz the Tasmanian Devil. The mental image always made him have to tamp down on a smirk, which only served to wind Danny up higher. This time was no different.
"You know what, I'm willing to take full responsibility for this. Because when I asked you to fill out the requisition forms for the guns your finicky, micromanaging Army—"
" _Navy_."
"—ass wanted and you handed me enough forms _to last us through a zombie apocalypse_ I, like an idiot, assumed that you knew what you were doing. Apparently I couldn't be more wrong. Because while the guns are indeed very nice — and let it just be known that I'm using ‘guns' in the loosest sense of the word here because we're not talking pistols or revolvers here, oh no, we're talking _military-grade rifles_ and even honest to god _grenades_. What in the fresh hell are you even? So while you have satisfied your inner weapon fetishist with enough firepower for a respectable militia, you are somehow still willing to waste even more taxpayers' money on _a joke_."
"You know you're not making any sense, right?"
"That is-- I, _I_ am not making any--" Danny let out another unamused scoff. "Okay, you know what, GI Joe, why don't you come over here for a sec, I wanna show you something." |
eac8769b06bd4844b7a3cb59309d3226 | ['604a21db31d24866b30b9bf1833922a0'] |
You're the One That I Love, and I'm Saying Goodbye
**Author's Note:**
> Title and inspiration come from the song Say Something by A Great Big World ft. Christina Aguilera. A big thank you to Landon Walliser, who helped edit this story even though this is not his ship.
>
> I do not own Star Trek, I just like to play with the characters.
_“Where the fuck were you.”_
_“I…”_
_“You were supposed to go to the fucking pharmacy and get Joanna’s prescription 5 hours ago.”_
_“Jim-”_
_“You were at the bar weren’t you? Fuck Leonard, I’ve told you that if you so much as touched that stuff again we are through.”_
_“Dammit Jim, I needed-”_
_“Excuse me? You needed what, Leonard? You needed alcohol more than your daughter needed her insulin? Is that where your priorities lie nowadays? You’d rather reach for the bottle over reaching out to me for help?”_
_“Fuck, Jim, you don’t understand!”_
There was a loud crash from the living room, and Joanna hugged her blankets tighter around her.
_“Leonard, you need to calm down, or you are going to wake Joanna.”_
_“No I will not fucking calm down. You want to talk about this shit? We’ll do it now.”_
Another crash, and Joanna felt tears prickle around the corners of her eyes. She had thought that since her mom and dad had separated, she would never again have to sit in her room pretending to sleep while shouts echoed throughout the house. It had been fine, for awhile, when it was just her and her father. No shouting, no broken picture frames; just silence.
Then her dad had met Jim, and things got even better; the perfect little family once again.
Until 3 years ago, when her father was involved in a medical malpractice suit: a young couple had brought their baby girl in because she was showing signs of lethargy, loss of appetite and was unable to keep her head supported, despite being 7 months old. Leonard initially considered child abuse, for the infant was showing signs of shaken baby syndrome, but brushed it off when he saw that her condition started to improve during her hospitalization. 6 months later, he received documents from a lawyer saying he was being sued for not reporting the abuse to social services, for the child had died a few weeks after being seen by Leonard.
The case eventually settled, and Leonard was able to keep his license, but the hospital saw it as bad publicity and he ended up losing his job.
Things started going slowly downhill from there. Leonard wasn’t able to find employment due to the lawsuit, and would be gone for hours at a time and come home late into the night, and some nights he wouldn’t even come home. Joanna would hear Jim in the master bedroom sobbing quietly, and her heart would ache for him.
Joanna always preferred those nights to the ones where her father actually came home at a decent hour. At 15, she knew whether or not her father had been drinking; he would always be a little too nice around her, and would tell her stories about all the times he fucked up throughout the years, pulling a life lesson out of it for her. She would always dismiss herself as politely as possible, and shut herself in her bedroom, and that was when the fighting would start. It would always start quietly, a few nagging remarks, until Leonard wouldn’t be able to keep his voice hushed or his temper under control. Joanna would put on her headphones and turn her music up full blast so she wouldn’t have to hear the shouting or the crashing.
Tonight was no different, but Joanna had left her headphones on the island in the kitchen. She laid in her bed, willing them to stop, with all of her heart.
_“It wasn’t your fault Len! I know it’s hard to lose your job-”_
_“Oh, you know how hard it is? Do you really? I’m the fucking laughing stock here. I can’t go out without someone pointing and whispering.”_
She heard them moving out of the kitchen towards the back of the house, and the house shook as Leonard slammed their bedroom door shut.
The voices were muffled now, and Joanna took this as her chance to make a run for her headphones.
She quietly slipped out of her bed, inched open her door, and walked quickly towards the kitchen. She saw that the vase that sat next to the television was in pieces on the floor, and there was a broken mug in the sink.
Joanna sighed as she grabbed her headphones. She was about to head back to her bedroom, when she heard a door open. Thinking quickly, she ducked down behind the island.
“Leonard...I don’t know what you want me to do. I’ve tried….I really have. But I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” Joanna could hear the pain in Jim’s voice.
“No, Jim, please, please don’t give up on me-”
“I’m sorry Leonard. I just-I think you need to leave.”
“Jim..”
“Please. Just go Leonard.”
_No_ , Joanna thought. _No, Dad don’t leave, I haven’t given up on you._
Joanna heard her father sigh, and the front door open. She could feel the
“I would have followed you anywhere Bones, but down this path...it’s the one place I can’t go with you.”
“I know Jim.”
Before she could think about it, Joanna ran from behind the counter and out into the chill of the night.
She ignored Jim, who had followed her outside calling her name; she was only set on reaching her father before he could leave. She reached the car just as Leonard shut the door.
“No, Dad don’t leave! NO! I need you! Please! Please stay!” Joanna screamed, banging her fist on the window. “You bastard, don’t leave me like Mom did!” | 60c72f602ded42d094175177d5d56610 | ['604a21db31d24866b30b9bf1833922a0'] | But Leonard just put the car into reverse, ignoring her. Panicking, Joanna tried to open the door, but strong arms pulled her from the vehicle.
“No, Jim...please. Daddy!” Joanna cried, trying to pry herself from Jim’s grip. Realizing she couldn’t get away, she turned and pressed her cheek into Jim’s chest, clutching at his shirt as she watched her father’s taillights disappear over the horizon.
“Oh, baby. You were supposed to be asleep.” Jim’s voice broke as he squeezed Joanna tight.
“He didn’t even say goodbye.” Joanna whimpered. “At least Mom said goodbye.”
Jim was silent as he let her cry into his chest, gently stroking her back. Joanna could feel his tears falling onto her head, and she wrapped her arms around him.
“We’ll be okay, Jo-Jo. We’ll be okay…”
**Author's Note:**
> This is my first ever posted story, so criticism is welcome!
>
> Tumblr: doctorleonarrdmccoyy |
6a65a73b76e9487a97f483b8bd2f7f79 | ['6053a979d57e492c92acac49065f340c'] | "Seems your instinct was off this time." Nobunaga said.
"That's odd..." Machi said. "Well, if Pakunoda says so, it must be true.
Nobunga changed his glance to Gon, who was standing with an angered look on his face.
Hisoka soon turned from Killua and walked away, causing Killua to walk to Gon. "Hey, Gon! Did they do anything to you on the way over here?" He whispered.
"No they just asked me a few questions."
"Thought so..." Killua covered his mouth. _Then they learned what they wanted without our realizing. What was it? And how? Sounds like they really trust Pakunoda's judgement. She must possess a skill more convincing than mere instinct._
'They have no memories of the chain user.'
Memories?
'How about you? Any guesses?'
The power to scan someone's memory! By touching them? That would explain everything. And we're in trouble. When she scanned us before, I had no idea who the chain user was. But now, I have an image in my head. If she checks again...
"If they have nothing to do with the chain user, we can let them go?" Franklin asked.
"Yeah, there's no point in keeping them here." Shalnark said.
"No, we can't be sure they're completely unrelated." Phinks said, stepping out of the shadows. It's possible they're being used. If the chain user typically conceals his chains, they wouldn't realize he was the chain user. We shouldn't release them until they tell us who they're working for."
"Assuming they're working for someone else, it wouldn't be the chain user. Because he operates alone." Shalnark said.
"Then you agree with Nobunaga." Machi replied.
"Rather than use a couple of kids, we can find the information we need through the Nostrade family. Since we know the chain user's a member."
"That's true."
"Our target is the chain user. We should ignore everyone else."
"There you go. You kids are lucky." Feitan said, looking at Gon and Killua.
Gon responded by sticking his tongue out.
"No, not yet." said Nobunaga, sitting away from the crowd. "I won't let him leave. Kid... Join the spiders. Team up with me."
"No way." Gon said, plainly. "I'd rather die than join you guys!"
Nobunaga chuckled. "He really hates us. You're an Enhancer, right?"
"What if I am?!"
"I knew it!" He said, bursting into laughter, throwing his head back.
The rest of the Troupe watched in confusion.
"Yo. We're keeping them here until the boss gets back. I'm going to recommend we recruit them."
"Are you serious?" Phinks said.
"The boss will never agree to that." Feitan added.
"Well, it's your call." Machi said. "But you have to watch them. You can't blame us if they escape."
"Not to worry," Nobunaga said, getting up. "I'll make sure they won't be going anywhere."
Gon flinched at the sentence, and almost in an instant, Nobunaga appeared in front of Killua. The white haired boy took a hard punch to his throat, causing him to snap his head back, and his body flew to the nearest wall from the force. Gon heard him gag when Nobu's fist made contact.
His body froze, he couldn't even react when he saw Nobunaga's glare shift towards him. The next thing he felt was Nobu's fist smashing into the side of his head, knocking him out instantly. He didn't even feel his body hit the ground.
\-----
Gon's eyes quickly flashed open, to the sound of a raspy voice across the room and blue eyes staring into his brown ones.
"Killua! What happened!" Gon shrieked. He felt the pain throbbing in the side of his head. He soon realized he was chained up to a wall, his arms above his head, and his legs were firmly locked in place. Across from him, Killua sat on the floor, his arms also hung up above him, with his ankles chained to the ground. Killua's eyes were duller than usual.
"Gon." He choked. "We've been taken prisoner."
2. Chapter 2
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Gon awakes to find himself locked in a room with Killua.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> ok this chapter is a little shorter than i would have hoped. (i also hope you like filler...)
"We've been... taken prisoner?" Gon cocked his head to the side, processing what's happening. He looked at Killua, who was stripped down to his underwear. He looked at himself, who was also stripped to his underwear. He looked back at Killua.
"No way, we have to get out!" The boy bonded to wall took in a deep breath and tried to burst out of the chains, but to no avail. He groaned and used all of his strength, but the chains wouldn't bust. He panted in exhaust as his muscles gave out.
"It... it won't work.." Killua choked out, his voice a little above a whisper. "The chains are sealed in Nen, I can't break through... If I could, we would've been out of here..."
Gon squinted. "Killua... What's wrong with your voice?"
His friend blinked at him; he tryed to sigh, but choking in the process. "I... I'm pretty sure that mustache guy broke my windpipe."
The black haired boy blinked, processing what is friend just said. "We have to get out of here."
"I know that. But if we could, we would have already been back with Leorio and Zepile." But I was too weak to get you out of here... Now who knows what will happens to us.
Killua looked up at Gon with bleary eyes.
"Gon."
"Hm?"
"Promise me, no matter what, that you won't join the Phantom Troupe, ever." He said as loud as he could with his raspy voice.
Gon cocked his head to the side. "I'd never join the Phantom Troupe, you know that. I could never become a killer like them." He laughed.
Killua tried to sigh, getting choked up again.
_Ah Gon. What can I do without you..._
\------- | acb35ed63ab54b418abf8e198ac715b7 | ['6053a979d57e492c92acac49065f340c'] | He said, slashing the left side of Killua's throat. He didn't even hesitate to wait for an answer.
Killua's blue eyes widened, he didn't realize what happened before Gon started screaming for him. The boy felt the blood gushing out of his neck with every pump of his heart. His head slumped to the side as his hearing cut off. Everything felt like it was in slow motion.
_What just happened?_ Killua thought to himself.
_My throat. He cut my throat._
_My neck... It feels so warm. That's my blood right?_
_My blood..._
_My blood._
_I'm dying._
_I can't die though._
_I have to be there for Gon._
_I can't..._
_die._
Everything around him turned to black as his pupils dilated.
\-------
Gon's pupils contracted in horror as he watched his best friend's throat was cut wide open, blood getting everywhere.
"KILLUA... KILLUA!" His voice reached shrieking levels to break glass. "NO!"
Feitan let out a terrible snicker and got up to go to Gon again.
"You're being too loud." Feitan said, pulling back his free fist. He quickly smashed it directly into Gon's nose, smashing the back of Gon's head into the wall behind him, knocking him out.
The boy's head hung limply after bouncing off of the wall.
Feitan sighed. He walked out of the room. Since I'm not allowed to kill either of them, I should get this cleaned up.
\-----
Gon woke up to find his face resting on the floor. His arms were bound behind his back, locked at the wrists. His nose hurt a lot. It must be broken. He quickly looked in front of him to find Killua in the same position as before, his eyes closed this time.
_Killua..._
He tucked his legs under him, preparing to jump over to his friend. "Ki-"
Something felt off with his mouth, so he immediately stopped talking.
The feel of leather tightened around his throat, pulling him up off the ground. The force of being pulled up by the strap cut off his access to air. He impulsively opened his mouth to try and get more air only to feel searing pain in his lips. His lips had been sewn shut and now he'd just made all the thread tear through his lips. Gon screeched in agony, only doubling the pain. He stopped when he ran out of oxygen to use. He violently kicked his legs, hoping the floor would come within reach but he only scraped his toes across the floor.
He was lowered to the floor a little so he could be standing on his toes for some relief. He gasped for air as blood dripped into his mouth from the many gashes through his lips. Tears welled up in his eyes. How much longer did he have to deal with this before they let them go?
A certain Feitan circled around in front of Gon. Gon looked at him with bleary eyes. He could barely be angry, he was in so much pain.
"This can end if you just tell us what you know."
Gon took in deep breaths. "I still... don't... know who..." His voice faded out as he closed his eyes.
Feitan scowled and pulled down the strap, causing Gon to go up again, choking again. He screamed once again, either pulling more thread through his lips or having the thread snap. His eyes were wide open now as his toes touched the ground again.
"I don't know who the chain user is."
"Then agree to join us. It's that simple."
"No."
"So be it."
Feitan walked behind Gon so he was out of sight then walked past him to exit the room.
The boy looked at his friend on the floor. Blood was covering so much of his body from the wound. It was dark now, but some of it covered the wall, some even ended up dripping on the floor and making a puddle in between his legs. But the wound itself didn't look to be there at all. It looked healed.
Apart from that, there was blood in other places he didn't think the blood would have reached.
He looked at the source of the blood. No.
There were wounds there. But... Why?
\-------
Leorio redialed Gon for the 6th time. It's been a day and neither Gon or Killua had gotten back into contact with him. _What the hell happened to them?!_
He held the phone up to his ear for a second and it immediately went to voicemail. Again... What the hell.
He was about to call for Killua this time but paused. He quickly went through the brief amount of contacts on his phone and landed on a familiar name. He called them and waited a good 12 seconds for a response. The phone clicked and a voice went, "Hello?"
"Kurapika. Something's happened to Gon and Killua."
4. Chapter 4
"What do you mean something happened to them?"
"Well, we were going after the Phantom Troupe." Leorio said.
"The Phantom Troupe?!" Kurapika yelled from the other end. "I've told you all that the Phantom Troupe is extremely dangerous, and yet you still go after them!"
"Listen Kurapika, we weren't trying to fight them. The Mafia put a huge bounty for them. We were just trying to get some information in exchange for money. We need a lot for the auction."
"What are you trying to get?"
"Gon said it's a game called Greed Island. The starting bid is 8.9 billion. We don't have enough."
"And what about Gon and Killua?"
"They went to tail two of them. The spiders were just out in the open. It was a good oppurtunity for info."
"How long ago was that?"
Leorio paused.
"Two days ago. They haven't come back."
On the other end, he heard Kurapika's breath go from calm to erratic and aggravated.
"I see." Kurapika said, trying to retain his composure. "Leorio, what do you think they did with them?" |
debb7de9490d4e3cb5225e1980ed54d4 | ['6082118a0a1347be843c625ed0917a59'] | “I don’t know. That girl grabbed him and took off.” His best friend was missing. Taken by monsters. Taken by that girl who looked strangely familiar. Oh fucking hell. It was that girl who had given him the creeps one night over the summer. The night Cordelia had cornered him. She was a monster. A _ vampire, _ and he let exactly half his friends get taken by her. Both of his friends would be gone now if it weren’t for Buffy.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Vans Triple Crown Contest (TM): The very first of this contest series was held in Las Vegas in 1996 and again in 1997. After they jumped around city to city until Vans discontinued them in 2006
More info at these sites- https://www.vans.com/history.html
https://www.wcsk8.com/history-of-wcs
>
> You can watch the Transworld Uno skate video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5WP7tPbt4bQ
>
> Eosinophil is the name Xander couldn’t remember during the conversation at dinner. It’s a type of white blood cell. When stained the nucleus appears deep purple and sometimes takes on odd shapes. Sorry I didn't find a picture but I have seen some of the funny shapes myself. Including the question mark and an exclamation point. I could have also used Neutrophil but I already had an Eosinophil 'Buffyism' (Yes I know its Xander talking but 'Xanderism' isn't quite as catchy)
Check here for more info on both - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/White_blood_cell#Types
3. Keeping Secrets
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This chapter takes place after S1E2: The Harvest
>
> W1770W was again fantastic at helping me. Thanks :)
>
> I'm really sorry for how long it took to get this chapter posted. the next few shouldn't be so bad.
Xander sat in the despair that pooled around him. It made living difficult. Trying to breath made him feel like water was lapping against his nose and filling his lungs. He wasn’t crying. Real men don't cry.
Jesse couldn’t be gone. They had plans to get together and watch that skate video he was so animated about. They were going to drive cross country after graduation, see New York together. He was going to be Jesse’s best man when the guy gave up on Cordelia. They were going to have nursing home rooms across the hall from each other and make bets on who could piss off the aides faster.
They were never going to do any of that. Jesse would never show him that video. Never graduate, get married or grow old. He was gone. Worse yet, Xander had been the one to kill him. His stake had pierced his heart. In that second, the person who meant more to him than anything was dust before his eyes. By his own hands. These hands right before them. He wanted them to be covered in blood. Blood was tangible, something he could wash off. Not that it would ever go away. Nothing was the same. Nothing ever would be the same. The world wouldn't be able to function anymore without Jesse.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.
The next day was normal, cheery even. The world was still spinning. The sun was still shining. He still had classes to go to.
He had woken up before his alarm. Checking the clock told him it had been three hours since he last looked. That was the only way he knew he had slept at all. Three hours was probably better than not sleeping. He pulled himself out of bed, grabbed a change of clothes and walked down the hall to the bathroom. He turned on the shower head before taking off his pajamas. His shirt tugged at the lame teenage stubble on his chin as he pulled it up over his head. With the water still running he looked at his face in the mirror over the sink.
It looked mostly like it did yesterday. When he was scared but still hopeful he would be able to save his friend. The difference was, yesterday's eyes looked alive. Today there was nothing behind them.
He grabbed a towel from the cabinet and finished stripping for the shower. Then he took one hand and checked the temperature of the water. It was too cold, but he didn't care enough to fix it. Instead, he pulled back the curtain and stepped in on the far side. His body shivered where the water splashed against his skin. It felt colder on his legs and arms than his hand. Like ripping off a band-aid he ducked his whole body under the stream at once. His head took on the chilling onslaught which caused a breathless gasp. The stream flowed over his face, pouring over his features.
He lost himself in the feel of the water rushing over him. The cold felt like an army of pin pricks against his warm skin. He focused on that sensation as it died down into numbness. The heat he had cultivated under blankets in his room was sapped away by the unforgiving water.
If asked how long he stayed under he would have been as likely to say fifteen seconds as half an hour. All he knew was that he had tuned out until the intrusion of his father reminded him he had to wash himself eventually.
“Coming in.” Was what the gruff voice said, accompanied by the creak of the opening door.
Xander stood silent behind the curtain as his father shuffled through the house’s only bathroom. The sink turned on for a moment which warmed the shower water against his skin for a few seconds. Despite his father’s enjoyment of late night activities the man woke up rather early in the day. Normally, their schedules didn’t overlap in the mornings.
“You gonna be much longer?” his father asked muffled by the toothbrushing Xander could tell he was doing.
“Um, I still have to wash my hair.”
“Well I need to take a piss. Flush the toilet when you’re done would you?”
“...Okay” | 364f42d503474149a25241cbe94d7f83 | ['6082118a0a1347be843c625ed0917a59'] | Samantha was yet again perched on the arm of her chosen chair in the sitting room. Saucer held in one hand, teacup in the other she sipped leisurely at her hot builder's tea. She loved listening to William's woes. It was her favorite part of the day seeing just how miserable he made himself. He also made a decent cuppa which was lovely in it's own right.
She was about to make a comment in reference to his mother, inocently bringing up that sore spot, when a buzz in her back pocket drew her attention.
It was from Michael. He had business outside town apparently and was asking her to keep an eye on things here. After setting down her beverage. Skilled thumbs typed out the response in no time.
_ I can do it, but you owe me. _
William watched her attention shift from him to the correspondence device she carried. "Is something wrong?"
"Everything is just fine Will no need for you to worry yourself." She smiled sweetly at him and he calmed drastically. "How about a night on the town to take your mind off all this drama?"
"That..." he pulled at the collar of his shirt that suddenly seemed much too close for comfort. "I think I would prefer to stay at home."
"Nonsense. Let's go for a drink at the pub."
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Chidi said his goodbyes and closed the door behind him. The day out had been surprisingly nice. Relaxing, which somehow was something he wasn't doing much of here. He had no idea why Eleanor was so instant on his enjoyment. They were hardly more than acquaintances. Still she had concocted a lovely day between the two of them.
"Hi fish." He took a pinch of food and sprinkled it over the top of the water. The singular goldfish inside came rushing up to the surface. Bubbles popped up around where the little guy chomped at floating food. "I still have to figure out what to name you."
Outside the door of the second floor studio Eleanor realized she never managed to make her request. Holy cheese balls she was stupid. How did she get so distracted?
She turned around to find Janet standing right behind her. Bizarrely the brunette looked dazed. The lack of a smile Eleanor thought was especially unnerving.
"Janet what the fork! Where did you come from?"
"Eleanor." She said her name with an air of pointed delibrance. Her eyes closed as she did so. Almost as if she was summoning courage. "I have an answer for you." Eleanor had no idea what she was talking about but was transfixed by the odd behavior. Janet opened her eyes. They had a new intensity while she continued to speak. "Remember when you asked me what the Bad Place is like?"
"I do.” The chilling screams that came from the audio clip. She remembered the debilitating fear she felt in that moment. It was what made her seek out Buffy for protection. “The idea of a two headed bear still freaks me out sometimes."
"Well I have recently found a better answer. _ This _ is the Bad Place."
Eleanor was silent for a moment then suddenly broke into laughter. "You had me for a second there. Micheal ask you to try being funnier or something?"
"Michael did not make such a request of me. I am merely following up on your earlier question with newly discovered information."
"You don't actually mean that. I mean this can't be true."
"I would not mislead you with false information."
"Yeah and how do I know that? Answer is I don't." Eleanor was mad. Of course she was mad. Getting mad was her natural defense mechanism to anything she didn't like. She was still a little kid throwing temper tantrums. Eleanor didn't know it though, she didn't think about it. Never considered the deeper why. She just got mean. It felt better to hurt them before they hurt you.
"I don't believe you." She said it with an edge in her voice. Suspending disbelief was the only thing keeping her from exploding at the moment. So she said it again and again in her head.
It isn't true. It isn't true. It isn't true.
In way over her head Eleanor grabbed Janet by the arm and headed straight for the Slayer’s house.
Ten minutes later, Janet sat unmoving at a table on the second floor of Buffy's building. Her eyes were locked on something far away. Buffy herself was leaned against the wall near the door watching warily. "The Bad Place” Janet was saying quietly. “does that mean I am a Bad Janet?" Buffy didn't like hearing Janet think out loud. It felt very unnatural.
"She's been like this since I found her." The Slayer turned her head to Eleanor. The woman refused to sit down while she spoke. "She seems to think we are in the Bad Place for some reason." Buffy noted that Eleanor clearly wasn't unaffected by the news. "That can't be right because you're here." A hand shot in Buffy's direction. "And you've _ saved the world _. She has to be glitching."
Calmly thinking was supposed to get her through this type of situation. There had to be a reasonable explanation. Her brain would kick in and give her one any minute now... Wouldn't be long.
"Buffy is a mistake." Janet said without being asked. “Also” She looked at Eleanor with a momentary return to her normal self. “I can’t glitch. I’m not a robot.”
Buffy paused in her train of non-thoughts. "What?"
“I said I am not a robot and therefore don’t glitch.”
“No about the other thing. About me being a mistake.”
"You aren't meant to be here."
Well that was a twist. Just this morning they thought Eleanor was the one that was misplaced. Now they find it's really her. |
f82bbfebf09140d985b3e341ae103f44 | ['6088a5cfd32b42cc9b1f435a092be75b'] | The few inches between them could be measured in miles. And it was her fault. She knew that. The tears scorched a trail down her cheeks as she attempted to explain, to apologize, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Calliope, it's not you..." She paused, attempting to swallow the lump in her throat, "...you know that, right? Please tell me you know that 'cause it's me. It's all me,I..I'm..."
The tone as much as the words brought Callie's mind rushing back to the present, "Don't...Honey, it's ok..." turning to lie on her side to face her wife, to offer comfort, assurance that it would be ok, that everything would be ok.
Because it would. Eventually. It had to be.
"It's not okay though, it's not!" Her anxiety level increasing with every syllable uttered. "There's something wrong with me..."
"Arizona, there's nothing wrong with you,it's normal..." as she spoke she reached out to stroke Arizona's arm but her target squirmed away.
"It's not normal!" how can it be normal?" her blonde hair tumbled haphazardly around her face as she struggled to rise, turning as she did, away from Callie,until her leg hung over the side of the bed. "I have the most beautiful woman in the world in my bed and she wants to make love to me..." she shook her head furiously "...to me ... And I can't..." The repeated words spat out in a mixture of disbelief and self-loathing, the references to herself dripping with disgust.
In those early months, when every word was cloaked in hate, every look full of disdain, Callie thought nothing could hurt her more. She was wrong. Hearing, seeing those same emotions, again but now directed inward, that hurt so much more.
"Honey...you..." Callie wanted nothing more than to hold her wife and make all the hurt go away, but she knew that's not how it worked. Arizona had to get there by herself, "... you've seen the literature and read other amputees testimonies ...you know it takes time to heal and..." she shook her head,her own guilt rising,knowing full well that at times she too had lacked the patience, the necessary empathy.
Arizona replied despairingly, "Years, Callie, for some people it's years, I can't, you can't wait..."
"It's not going to be y...we...I can..." Callie stuttered in reply, lost for the right words. Instead she just reached forward and laid a hand on the small of her wife's back and this time Arizona did not flinch away.
"...and for some people it's never, Callie, never!" She shook her head in defeat, then reaching forward for her prosthesis, fell into silence.
"What are you doing? Where are you..."
"I'm going to check on Sofia..." Arizona's voice was subdued,a whisper.
"Wh - what? She's fine, you don't.."
"...and I need to check on this article in JAMA..."
"In the middle of the night?" Callie asked in bewilderment.
"...I have a surgery tomorrow ..." she petered off "... I'll be a while, so you can..." She wanted to give Callie the time, the space to...she just didn't want to be a witness, not when she could no longer be a participant.
The truth dawned slowly on her wife.
"You, you want me too..." Callie swallowed thickly, "...take care of myself?"
The affirmative came by way of silence, though she could see in the half-light Arizona's jaw flex.
Now it was her turn to sit up, smooching over to sit behind her wife, embracing her in a tight grip round slumped shoulders.
"Take your leg off, and get back in bed." she murmured softly in Arizona's right ear.
"Callie, I..."
The interruption was both gentle and firm, " Now."
She did as she was bid,returning the prosthesis to it's usual spot by the nightstand and laying down on her side, facing the door. Callie pulled her back towards her till she fit perfectly against Callie's front.
Several moments passed before she spoke.
"I can't expect you to...you cant wait forever, Calliope.." as a fresh tear fell from cheek to neck.
Callie's response was to pull her tighter still, till no space at all existed between them, almost as if there was no place where one ended and the other began, as if there was only them.
"Yes, I can, forever,for you, only for you..." Callie lay her head on her wife's shoulder, squeezing their now interlinked hands, "...and a day."
25. Good man in a storm
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> A different, yet still sad, ending to Season 9. Written when I was in denial. Arizona is not a good man in a storm.
It had been the biggest storm to hit the Pacific North west since meteorological records began. That's what the, still, perfectly presented TV Anchorwoman on the Local network was saying.
Arizona stared impassively as the News report unfolded on the large screen in the foyer. The large screen that had required a three hour meeting and a vote of the Board to have installed. At least that's how she recalled it. Her wife had assured her that, no, the decision on the TV was taken in minutes; it was the colors on the new Hospital logo or on the coffee holders or the Dermatology nurses scrubs that had taken all that time. All she knew was she had felt less like a world class Peds surgeon and more like a low grade operative in a PR company that day. That day, that meeting; so many days, so many meeting, so many moments. Moments when she no longer recognised herself, who she was, who she had been.
So many moments, so many days. since the takeover. Since the Compensation. Since the crash, since the amputation.
Since those four nights on a mountainside in the Cascades. Since the real Arizona Robbins perished leaving a shell of a woman behind. The shell she had tried so hard to fill,as she tried so hard to be a fake Arizona. | 7fa10dba2dfd4a338fbf85e488d37fde | ['6088a5cfd32b42cc9b1f435a092be75b'] | Daniel Robbins had recently had a triple by-pass at Arizona's old hospital John Hopkins. It had all been very sudden. Twelve months ago, not long after they'd officially started dating again, the call had come. Arizona had flown to Maryland that very day.It had taken Callie one more day before she realised that she wanted to be by Arizona's side for this. Needed to be. That it was in fact her place. She and Sofia had got on the next available flight.
ssssssssssssssssssssssssss
After she'd come back from New York five months after leaving, two months after realising she wanted to return home to Seattle, Her ex had been coolly distant. Arizona had wanted Callie to be happy, had sacrificed much of her own happiness to make that so, and after all that, after everything Callie had put them all through, five months seemed less like an admission of a mistake and more like a kick in the teeth.
Callie didn't specifically come back for Arizona but once she got back she realised very quickly that she wanted to rekindle their relationship. In fact she wanted it more than she'd thought was possible. And she realised that her return, and her unhappiness in New York, was inextricably linked with still extant feelings for Arizona.
She knew Arizona. All of her. Warts and all. Yet she was as infatuated with her now as if she was totally new and exciting and unknown.
So many things became clear in those early months back.
Clear to her.
Arizona had been like all the others.
She had left.
She had put career before her, them.
She had cheated.
This she knew, none of this was new.
But Arizona was like none of the others too.
She had come back.
Again, and again.
She had sacrificed for her, for them.
Over and over.
And she had let her go, to be happy.
Once and then again.
And she realised that the relationship they'd had was so much better than anything that went before or came after.
It became clear to her.
It had not been clear to Arizona.
Arizona had snorted in disbelief at the first suggestion that they should try again.
The second time Callie broached the subject Arizona made it clear that if the future of the planet depended on them going on a date then humanity better pack its bags and head for the Delta quadrant. Or wherever Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine had voyaged through.
The third time she was greeted with a look of disdain and utter silence.
She began to lose faith.
The fourth time Arizona had, unknown to Callie, been on a date. A fifth date no less. With a lovely sexy funny accomplished woman. One Arizona felt more than compatible with and not just physically. Actually Callie had known that it was a date and had been desperate to disrupt it. The thought of Arizona having sex with this woman, with any woman, it bothered her but the fear of Arizona falling in love with someone else? It was terrifying.
And there it was. The final acknowledgement of the pain she'd inflicted.
That time Arizona had told her to go to hell. And to stay there. She'd been so angry, she'd gotten all up in Callie's face, Callie could feel the heat of her breath as she spat out, "No!" A spray of spittle accompanied her final words, "There is no us. There will be no us. Stop this and stop it now."
Arizona was incandescent with rage.
It gave Callie hope.
After a lovely ninth date with her even lovelier new girlfriend Arizona ended the fledgling relationship. And made her way to Callie's rented apartment. After midnight. Callie had let her in. They'd barely spoken, ending up curled together on the couch, after Arizona's one word greeting, "Okay."
"This makes no sense."
"Hmm..." Was Callie's only verbal reply.
"It'll end in tears." Arizona whispered, " Probably mine."
"Both of ours." Callie added, "If it ends."
sssssssssssssssssssssssssss
"My Dad is fine, it's..."
"Barbara? No, no, what..." To Callie, Barbara was like a second mother, or these days a first mother. Barbara had been frosty at the beginning, their most recent beginning. She'd always treated Callie warmly but Arizona was her daughter after all and she had concerns this time round.
Pretty much everyone had.
"Mom and Dad are fine."
"Then...what? I know it's not Sofia." Sofia was on a sleepover. "If you'd got a call from Charlie's mom you'd have hopped in your car and..."
Arizona smiled, sniffing a little still, "..I'd have woken you first."
Callie chuckled, "Honey, you and I both know you'd probably only remember me when you were halfway there."
Arizona laughed, shook her head, but her smirk indicated there might be a little truth there. Wrapping her arms around Callie tightly she felt her anxiety levels drop ever so slightly.
"Did I do something then?" Callie shook her head in consternation, as if to dislodge the hidden memory of what she must have done, or said, or not said as the case may be. She couldn't think of anything. "I mean, I thought we had a great night and..?"
Arizona smirked back, and inhaled deeply, slowly exhaling, the anxiousness, the fear that had somehow enveloped her as she'd lain in bed beside her ex-wife, her life partner, was slowly receding, "yes, Calliope, we had a great night."
It had been more than great and they both knew it. It was rare that they had a full night together without Sofia where neither had to worry about being on call or an early shift. They had the weekend off and Sofia was going to her soccer game with her new best friend Charlie and Charlie's beleaguered mother who also had three other kids under ten. |
e5b29a6f01ee4ebdbb0437281b7776c7 | ['60b85052ec554b1299e584885bb97552'] | Documentary
**Author's Note:**
> Hey! This is my first time posting a fic here so uh.. enjoy?? yeah... awesome :)
It was a fine windy day. The sun is up and only a few stray clouds are running across the sky. The trees are dancing along a beat of refreshing breeze, bees and butterflies hopping from flower to flower at the Garden on the backyard, the birds chirping at braches and the cat is lying content under a Jasmine bush.
At the living room facing the television like lazing bears sat Yamaguchi and Tsukishima watching a documentary about the creation of the universe, Yamaguchi sitting in between Tsukishima’s thighs while the other rests his head on the shorters shoulder hand the freckled boys hips; they didn’t bother sitting on the sofa and stationed themselves on the floor.
“The Universe is so pretty, Tsukki!” Yamaguchi exclaimed, his eyes sparkling the way it always does whenever he admires something. Tsukishima looks at him and grunts “Yes, indeed it is.” without moving his eyes away from the freckled boys face, appreciating all that he sees on it. The freckles that looks like chocolate sprinkles, his lashes fluttering whenever he blinks, his eyes that sees the world in such a colourfull way, his eyebrows that rose and fell complimenting his emotions, his lips. Tsukishima takes them all in and he thought, Gods I love this guy.
“It’s also amazing how big it is and we’re just like a tiny speck inside it.” Yamaguchi continues, now smiling and he turns his head to look at Tsukishima. “But it’s also kinda lonely to think about. How we’re the only living existence here and if there are others they’re like millions of lightyears away.” His expression turned solemn and gloom. Tsukishima doesn’t like that, he wants Yamaguchi to be happy and smiling all the time, to hear his laugh and giggles and snickers. He didn’t voice it out though. He kept on listening on what Yamaguchi has to say. “It’s lonely how we are so insignificant in this vast expanse of stardust and black matter.” Tsukishima quirked an eyebrow, straightening his back and wriggling his hands on Yamaguchi’s sides holding the other snug against him and huffs.
“Don’t say that.” He said after a brief moment of silence. ”Don’t think of that. We’re not insignificant, you aren’t insignificant. If we are why would we be existing? Shouldn’t it be better if we don’t if we are?” He looks away and huffs again adjusted his glasses and looked at Yamaguchi in the eyes. “You are not insignificant. Cause if you’re gone I’d be….” He paused, Yamaguchi looked at him expectantly, hopefully. Tsukishima doesn’t open up so often and he always treasures it whenever the other would do these kind of things. It’s sweet of him and adorable. Tsukishima doesn’t want to think about a world or a life without Yamaguchi. It’s wrong. “I’d be sad.” He finally said making himself curl up and hugged Yamaguchi tighter.
“Aww~. Really?” Yamaguchi cooed his smile back on his face. “I do too, Tsukki. I’d be really sad to if you were to be gone! I’m sorry for that.” He said and picked Tsukishima on the cheek making the others face turn a light shade of pink. “love you” Tsukishima looked at him again and smiled his rare smiles, smiles that are only for Yamaguchi and kissed the boys lips. “I love you too.” He replied even though it’s not needed. And they got back to watching the documentary once again.
“That Super Giant reminds me of you Tsukki!”
“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”
**Author's Note:**
> So, how was it? comments and kudos are appreciated thanks you lovelies! :D | e34817864c6f493fb05279d1535287ac | ['60b85052ec554b1299e584885bb97552'] |
In this world there are beings called Soulmates, they are people destined for each other and Faith makes sure that they meet in one way or another. There are also the Mythics, these are none human creatures like angels, demonds, witches, wolves, Faes and many others, they were once hidden from the humans but decided to come out and reveal themselves.
Tsukishima Kei, was orphaned by the age of six but he had an older brother named Akiteru, he doesn’t know where his brother is though, they got separated when they were assigned which orphanage they would go. Tsukishima was saddened by this, but being himself, he never showed such emotion, preferring to not have people pitying him. Yes. He never showed it… except for Yamaguchi Tadashi.
Tsukishima met Yamaguchi the day when he arrived at the orphanage. They became roommates when they were eight. At first he doesn’t want to involve with this freckled demon but you can’t really ignore someone you see and follows you everyday, can you? So he talked to him, he found out that he was left at the orphanage as a baby, he doesn’t know his parents. He loves soggy fries, stargazing and moon watching. He is sweet, innocent, kind, fidgety, anxious and frail. Yamaguchi was someone people unconsciously want to protect. And that was what Tsukishima did.
He found out that Yamaguchi was bullied by other orphans, though the demon would say it was no big deal, Tsukishima would stick himself near Yamaguchi most of the time and scare those kids away. It was pretty easy, just a very intimidating, angry and belittling glare and a few harsh remarks would make them run away. He also liked Yamaguchi, his not noisy, would understand Tsukishima’s quirks and is very kind. So Tsukishima only plays with him, talk only to him, is comfortable only with him.
Tsukishima also found out that they were soul mates, Yamaguchi and him. It didn’t come as a surprise, he was guessing it was the case by how comfortable and at home he is with the demon. He can’t say the same to Yamaguchi, he looked shocked but elated when they found out when he accidentally scribbled on his arm and saw the same marks at Tsukishima’s.
This revelation made Tsukishima vow to protect and treasure Yamaguchi even more than he already has. He glued himself to the other, Yamaguchi didn’t protest and seemed to be flattered by the action so he continued with it. He never let go of Yamaguchi’s hand, only when necessary, they are always seen embracing each other or just touching to feel each others warmth. He would make Yamaguchi listen to his favoured songs from an mp3 player their caretakers had given him as a gift on Christmas. The orphanage staffs didn’t say anything against it for the sheer reason that they are soulmates, they would even encourage it; Tsukishima have a feeling they had become their live romantic series to the caretakers. He would try his hardest to make Yamaguchi smile every day, because whenever Yamaguchi was happy, he would be too.
At the age of Eight, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi had their Mark, a moon surrounded by constellations. Also they became roommates, making them even closer to each other. Yamaguchi’s eyes always sparkle whenever he sees them, so Tsukishima made a point on taking his shirt of whenever the two of them are alone in their shared room. He likes them on Yamaguchi too. Likes tracing and looking at them, it suits him with his freckles. Tsukishima always thought of those brown dots as stars, stars he can touch, precious only to him and belonged to his beloved soulmate.
“Neh, Tsukki, that tickles you know.” Yamaguchi says as the Fae moves the tip of his finger lightly from one constellation to another.
“It is?” He asked, his eyes and face not giving anything away. “I just noticed something, is all.” He leaned to the others back and rubbed his cheek to the moon.
“Really? What?” Yamaguchi shifted, facing Tsukishima, wrapping his short arms to the Fae’s shoulders.
“The constellations change. It changes to reflect the one shown on the sky.” He pressed closer to the Demon. “I would know the month from our Mark. Like a calendar.”
“Heh?” Yamaguchi chuckled. “How convenient.”
At the age of ten, a man came, he was smiling, good natured, kind, and is finding a child to adopt. Tsukishima didn’t like him. The moment the Fae saw his face he hated him. He grabbed Yamaguchi’s hand and dragged him to the farthest corner of the receiving hall where everyone was being introduced to the man. Tsukishima’s nerves are frying still though, because the man keeps on eyeing Yamaguchi. He couldn’t do anything about it, it would be an act of misconduct to leave, he would also receive a scolding if he tell the man to leave, so he makes Yamaguchi stick to him all the more. The man didn’t relent, at the end of the day, he signed a contract adopting the Demon. Tsukishima couldn’t get rid of the dread that filled him. He didn’t know why the orphanage let Tsukishima and Yamaguchi be separated, they were soulmates! But he also know that the orphanage is struggling with funds.
“Tsukki.” Yamaguchi whined, whipping his eyes off of the tears he had shed. “I don’t want to be separated from you.” He sobbed and another set of tears flowed.
Tsukishima didn’t want it as well, he didn’t like it that he can’t do anything about it. He hugged Yamaguchi as tightly as he could, trying to take and retain as much of his soulmate to himself. “Don’t worry. I’ll come and find you.” Yamaguchi was taken away from him that day. |
d0d91be7dda94b3dabd78350e7b81737 | ['60c7b9cf97004a598517c63f39f4da76'] |
1. The First Glance
**Author's Note:**
> Heyyyyy Kitttyyy Girlllssss. This is for the fun one galssssss. Angst drives my soul but a hooker needs her dum dums gal.
Class 1-A was a very eccentric class. That could have been already assumed with the knowledge of kids having quirks, or unique abilities that they utilize to become the greatest heroes. There would be quirks from hardening the body for great defense and a deadly offense, or the characteristics of having a frog. Not only with brilliant quirks were these kids granted, but also stunning personalities that beamed throughout the classroom on a regular basis. Yet even the exciting class can have its own moments of serious conviction, and frustration with normal life and hero training. Still there is one thing still eludes the students of 1-A and even the faculty of the prestigious school. That being the inseparable couple that was Katsuki Bakugou and Izuku Midoriya. The class in its entirety had believed that these two boys had always known each other even since childhood but were quickly proven wrong by Izuku’s multitudes of stories.
Izuku and Katsuki had actually first met when they had reached UA for their first day. Both taking the train to the school yet from different directions making it so the boys would have never had met before. They first made eye contact when Izuku was rushing to the bathroom since he liked not listening to his mother's advice at home. Katsuki who had just finished was ready to leave but was met with green hair invading his face. The smaller hero in training had backed away from the impact of bumping into someone so suddenly. That is when viridian eyes met crimson eyes. They stayed longingly staring at each other for a very long minute but to the both of them they would not break the connection if they wanted to. Yet they heard someone try to exit the bathroom thus the two boys had to make way going outside were their first interaction began.
“S-sor-rryy!” Squeaked the smaller one.
“Its fine. Just watch where you are going alright. Could get someone or yourself fucking hurt, little bean.”
Katsuki knew not what possessed him to say such a thing but he did it. The smaller male only nodded in response, probably not even registering the pet name that was given to him. Izuku’s bladder was still in shock after the staring contest with the ash blond boy that it forgot it needed to go use the restroom. The ash blond made his way to class 1-A where he was placed due to his amazing results on the entrance exam. Yet he could not help the feeling that he was being followed by a certain boy.
“Why are you following me? Thought you had to go piss.”
“Oh I was actually just going to wash my hands. But I forgot I had hand sanitizer in my bag so now I am just heading to class. Y-yourself?”
“Same. Say, why don’t you escort me there. Huh small stuff.” Katsuki was playing a game with the smaller male that he hoped would work. He might even be in his class but seeing how dorky but cute he looked, he probably was General Studies at best.
“I’m not that small. I haven’t hit my growth spurt yet so I might be taller than you in the future.” Izuku teased the blond. Izuku had not known what came over him but he was talking freely with a stranger, something he did not do naturally. Even when meeting All-Might he had trouble fully speaking with his mentor. Yet he feels at ease with the boy right in front of him.
Both boys made small talk until they reached a peculiar looking door that was blocking noise from escaping to the halls. Katsuki in their conversation about heroes had forgotten to ask the boy what class he was in, let alone what his name is.
“Hey so this is my stop. So see you around I guess? Wait also what is your name?
“Oh it's Izuku Midoriya. And yours? Plus this is also my stop as well.”
“Katsuki Bakugou.” The taller male then opened the door to let the shorter one through as an act of chivalry. This fine act went unnoticed by the class but not for Izuku who felt heat starting to radiate on his face. He quickly sat down by a wall since such a seat was always his favorite ever since middle school. Katsuki followed the skittering boy but instead sat down in front of him. Izuku then was approached by two people, a brunette and a tall dude with glasses. They started talking, of course the taller boy was discussing more analytical questions than the girl but Katsuki could see that they were trying to befriend the the little bean, even if it is two different methods. Class started and of course to no one's surprise there was assigned seating since it is still a school. Luckily enough the two boys had already seated themselves in a correct manner. Their homeroom teacher, the hero Eraser head had commended the boys for being ahead of the class, causing them to smile at each other.
Now it was a weird occurrence for Katsuki to display emotions besides pride and anger causing him to question what the boy was doing to him. Afraid that he might be falling too deep for a stranger even just on the first day, he decided to reduce the smaller boy from a cute green bean to a nerd. Thus when he saw the name “Izuku” written, he could not help but laugh to himself thinking of a perfect name to contrast the cuteness that was Midoriya. Deku was such a degrading name but still had a nice ring to it. | b8a82c6a9b44409dbf870a724c286bda | ['60c7b9cf97004a598517c63f39f4da76'] | Izuku perked his head up, as if finally his brain registered something he wanted to hear. Yet he couldn’t stop his sobbing but nodded wildly as to contrast his sad state. Kacchan smiled at him and planted a kiss on Izuku’s lips. It only served to make Izuku cry harder but for a different emotion entirely. He finally got up with help from his husband so he could collect himself.
“Finally. Christ you know you cry a lot right? Too much for the Number One Hero so you better shape up or else I will take away that title okay Deku? Now clean yourself up and get ready for work too since I can’t be the only provider. Bye nerd.”
And with that Izuku was once again alone with the click of the door being locked by keys. He finally made progress! While he would’ve liked to spring the surprise sooner than later it was perfect that his husband could get at least even just two days off. Well In actuality unlike Kacchan, Izuku had this day off since he was ordered by the agency to take one day off at least so they shouldn't mind him also asking for another two right? He quickly got the housework done while diligently avoiding mirrors since when he finally cleaned up he saw himself in the bathroom mirror. He looked disheveled, like he had been crying for days, plus not sleeping for days as well with bags being far too noticeable for his own good. He tried to take several naps but his excitement would just keep him up. He was finally going to spend time with his husband for two whole days! His excitement was cut short when his phone ranged. His mind went to the worst possible scenario. That Kacchan was calling only to say that he couldn’t get the time off and that he would try again next week only for it to never happen. He quickly grabbed his phone trying to prepare himself for the worst.
“Hello?”
“Hello Midoriya. I know you have today off and so do I. Inasa isn’t home yet so I wanted to invite you over. Especially since we haven’t talked in a few days” Came a deep voice that belonged not to Kacchan but to Todoroki. The relief that exuded from Izuku was immense with him dropping on the couch landing on the newspapers he had on the home.
“Uhhhh sure. I have nothing to do I even started to categorize newspaper in alphabetical order. Actually can I ask for a favor?”
“What is it?” Todoroki inquired.
“Well I couldn’t tell Kacchan about wanting to adopt but we will have the weekend together so I will tell him then. I just need help preparing for it since I am so nervous. Is it possible if I sleep over today I don’t want to be alone right now I am too excited so I need to distract myself.”
“Sure. I will let Inasa know that you are staying over. And also congratulations on finally being able to get him to listen. So come over and we can discuss it more.”
“Thank You Todoroki. I will be there soon so don’t wait up too long.” Izuku ended the the call much to Shouto’s surprise but he knows how energetic his friend is.
Izuku is beaming. Not only is his husband being more attentive but he is also going to be with his friends. Finally after closing himself from some of his friends who enjoy the pleasures of marriage or a relationship at all he too can enjoy it. He knew he was being selfish for closing himself off but he couldn’t help it but now just like how Kacchan was opening up again so will Izuku.
Finally things are going his way.
2. Love Cannot Be Interchangeable For Hatred
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Katsuki Bakugou was a great man with a great life. But why was he not content?
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hey Kitty Girls I hope we are stun today. So here is a new chapter for the kiddies and I hope yall like it since it hurt me to write some of the shenanigans galllzz. Also this will be a hint for what the song will be. If the past was never there, but I knew the person, how it be that I was like my father? Hopefully yall guess right cuz this song was the inspiration for this work and galllzzzz I always get triggered when I listen to it. But have fun~~~~~~~~~~~~~ |
6d3da6b92e8547e4a2ce301eca95d902 | ['6109fc59fa114a358035946bb4f2abb4'] | “Yes,” L replied, looking Light over with apparent scrutiny. He brought his thumb up to his lips as if he were going to bite the nail, but didn't. What unusual body language. Light couldn't read anything in those mannerisms. For some reason this fact irritated him to no end.
“I haven't seen you since last Wednesday,” L continued, looked, for a moment, like he wanted to say more, but if there _was_ more, he was saving it. He didn't appear bothered by the fact that he had not seen Light since their first and only other meeting but then, why would he? It wasn't as though they were friends. They didn't even _know_ one another. Still, the words themselves felt almost like an accusation _or_ , rather, they seemed to request an explanation. Light felt a sudden urge to prove himself, prove _something_.
“I was working late last Wednesday, but that was an unusual circumstance,” he explained. His words felt too fast, or not enough, or - or - _or_. He didn't know. His words felt like they were tripping over one another on their way out of Light's mouth, fighting for the chance to slip and fall from his lips and clatter to the ground. “I'm usually back at my apartment before the sun goes down. Thank you for–” he tried, but that was no good. Those words didn't fit, but then L filled the space left by the tail end of that sentence as he inclined his head in the direction of Light's apartment building.
“It's dangerous to be out this late on your own,” L said, and his eyes darting toward and then away from Light's, like a moth considering whether the _illumination_ was worth it. “I can walk with you again, if you wouldn't mind.”
“I wouldn't,” Light said, voice soft. There was a certain gravity to L's words that Light couldn't figure out how to simply disregard. A smile made its way across L's face, a strange smile, one that looked like it didn't actually fit there, like it was part of a mask Light wasn't sure L was actually wearing. L took the lead, down the pavement, toward Light's apartment building.
It wasn't a long walk, and Light wasn't sure what to talk about, which conversation topics to bring up. This wasn't a problem he usually had, so often excelling at small talk even when those he spoke to bored him to the point where he wondered how they had made it as far in life as they had. But this was different: what did one say to a person one barely knew, and met under very unusual circumstances?
Light thought about himself, _about_ Light, about who he was and the fact that he was _reasonably_ certain that L still didn't know anything about him other than where he lived and attended class. When enough time had passed for Light to find some sort of nerve in this unfamiliar situation, he said, “I'm new to this area.”
“New,” L repeated, not like a question and not like a conformation, more like a... statement. It was strange. Then he added, with the sort of tone one might use over an awkward first date in a restaurant neither party particularly cared for, “I'm also new.”
L's eyes were darting every which way as he spoke, and Light could practically see him... doing _something_. Taking in every detail of every single person, location, or object that they passed. Categorising them, maybe? His eyes would flicker over each thing, analyse it, assign it a place and then move on, not returning. Car, traffic light, trendy clothing store, woman with bag, car, car, closed supermarket... and so on. Light couldn't tear his own eyes away from L, one hand clutching his satchel so tightly it was starting to ache, but he couldn't seem to relax. Then L spoke again. “We're both strangers, to the area.”
For some reason that made Light feel exposed, put on display. Just a little. The way something peculiar sticks out just enough to broadcast to the world that it couldn't find a place to belong. Perhaps it was because he was walking next to L, who Light imagined gave off that sort of impression no matter where he went.
“You seem to know your way around well enough,” Light said. “And you're brave enough to walk alone at night.”
“I have a good sense of direction, and as for – _brave_ ,” L murmured, with a certain kind of underlying ache in his voice, “I'm not. Not really.”
By that point, they'd reached Light's apartment complex. Light puts his back to the familiar building, turned to look L in the eyes, said, “You did save my life.”
L looked away, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward, like he was on the verge of laughing at some joke he'd remembered, but that Light wouldn't understand. As if there was something funny about the idea of L saving a life. He didn't explain the joke, just allowed his mouth to return to the intense but unreadable expression he usually wore. “I hope you like this neighbourhood.”
Light didn't know which lie-of-omission to tell, so he didn't tell one. Instead, he kept his gaze focused on L and in a tone of voice that hinted at a challenge he told him, “I hope you do, too.”
L hummed, as if considering something. “Goodnight,” he said. Then he turned and walked and walked and walked until where he had walked to was _away_.
Light let himself into the building, then, moments later, his apartment. He smiled to himself. He wasn't sure how long L had been playing that game with him, but he had caught on by the end of their second encounter, at the very least. He didn't know what sort of game L thought he was playing, but Light was not overly fond of losing.
3. Chapter 3 | dd3b4f2084f54ddf927e7725fb686c95 | ['6109fc59fa114a358035946bb4f2abb4'] | Light looked into the eyes of a man in nondescript clothing, holding what appeared to be a piece of metal piping. A mop of dark, messy hair allowed the streetlamp to cast much of his face into shadow. It seemed he was only a little shorter than Light, but the way he was tucked in on himself increased their height difference further. He was looking at Light with unhidden curiosity, something in his eyes hinting at wild but restrained intelligence despite his raggedy appearance.
“I hope he didn't hurt you,” he said, and his tone of voice made him sound rather bored. Like he couldn't decide how much he cared and opted for sounding like he cared not at all. Light took a second to wonder at his accent. His pronunciation was without error but it was clear he wasn't from Japan originally.
Light nodded only a fraction of a second too late for his pause to seem natural. “Yes. I mean no. I mean I'm all right. Thank you for— No,” he began, stopping abruptly when he realised he was about to thank a man for hitting someone over the head with a bit of pipe. The stranger shifted his weight from foot to foot. Light's fight-or-flight instinct was screaming at him to do... to do something. He didn't know. He didn't know what it wanted from him.
“You are bleeding a little, but the knife clearly missed the vital parts of your throat considering you're still capable of speech and your breathing seems unimpaired. A superficial cut.”
“Yes,” Light replied. He considered that he might have been in shock. He wasn't normally so laconic, but shock will do that to a lot of people. He supposed it was better than the nervous-chatter instinct that some were cursed with.
The stranger raised an eyebrow.
“I can't seem to figure out how to react,” Light elaborated, and was surprised at how calm his voice sounded. This wasn't a situation he knew how to deal with. He really just wanted to get home, get home, but the other man was giving him a curious look. “I might be in shock.”
“You're safe now,” the man said, and the _strangeness_ of that phrase made Light pause. “Do you live nearby?”
It was likely an offer to escort Light to his home, and for one idiotic moment he considered asking him to, if only because two men walking down a street would provide more of a deterrent than one walking alone ever would. “Yes. Just up the street.”
“Would you like me to accompany you?”
Light felt he should say no, and in fact his rational mind was demanding he do just that, and anyway, he knew that his odds of attracting two muggers on the same well-lit two-block stretch were almost zero, but his argument died on his lips as he said something that might have been, “Okay.”
“What's your name?”
“You just knocked a man unconscious with a blunt object and you really think I'll tell you my name?” Light scoffed, as if it should be obvious that while where he lived was apparently something he'd declare, _his name_ was too far. The man seemed to find it amusing, somehow. He didn't laugh but Light could see the flicker of a smile on his face.
“You've told me where you live, but your name is a secret?”
Light knew it was stupid, but he nodded. His apartment complex housed enough people that he would be difficult to follow without his tail being noticed. Sharing his name, however, felt like crossing a line that he wasn't ready to cross with a stranger willing to beat a man over the head, mugger or not. If Light put a name to himself, that would make this whole thing much more personal than he ever wanted an interaction with someone like that to be. The shock had worn off, but it was not lost on Light that he was allowing an absolute stranger with at least some tendency toward violence to walk him home.
“You can call me L,” said – L. Said L.
Light nodded, and neither of them said anything more until they reached the apartment complex. “So. This is where I live,” Light said, and it sounded awkward to his ears but he couldn't think of anything more situationally-appropriate to say. What _does_ one say in such a situation, anyway? He wondered if his parents would know, not that he would be sharing this encounter with his father.
“Good night,” L told him, expression something almost like a smile. “And be careful on your own at night. I can't imagine I'll always be there to save you if something like this happens again.”
Light considered saying something in reply, but L had already turned, walking away down the street, swallowed up by the night. Light watched until he could no longer see him under the street lamps, until L turned a corner at the end of the block and vanished completely.
2. Chapter 2
Light awoke the next morning with a headache building in his temples and a feeling of certainty regarding the previous night. Namely, that he was _certain_ he had dreamt the whole thing. Pulling himself out of bed and moving toward his small kitchen, Light felt, with surety, that chance encounters, muggings under the inconsistent glow of streetlamps, being walked home by unusual strangers with unfamiliar accents... that these were all the sort of things that happened to other people, and not even all at once.
Or maybe he just _wanted_ to believe that these things happened to other people, to ignore the scabbed-over cut on his neck and residual shaking of his hands.
Because those things meant that he hadn't dreamt it. Meant that it was real. |
c80cd48777014e9ba7bf0f23158459a3 | ['611d283a65a6400cac20dc8aef74ad3c'] | Marinette giggled. “And a few years later, little mini Alya running around, causing terror.”
“Hey, if they cause trouble, it would be your influence, not mine.” Alya laughed, pulling Marinette onto her lap.
“If you say so.” Marinette held her tight, smiling giddily. “Would you carry them? Or would I?”
“That is a practical consideration, isn’t it?” Alya said, thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t _mind_ it, but I also think you would look so beautiful if you were pregnant.” She ran a hand over her flat stomach.
Marinette nuzzled her neck. “We could always have two. You carry one, I carry the other.”
“That might be good.” She kissed her, love and excitement pouring out of her. She didn’t realize how much she wanted this until that moment. She wanted to have a family with Marinette, raise their children, grow old, all of that. Her chest was going to burst with joy.
“One little Alya and one little Marinette,” Marinette whispered against her lips.
“Yeah,” Alya sighed. “They’ll be so beautiful.”
They sat there, bathed in the bliss of the future, arms intertwined. Eventually, Alya spoke again, thoughtfully.
“Do you think we could get Adrien to be the sperm donor?” she asked.
“Alya, no!” Marinette pulled away, looking horrified.
“Why not? He’s got great genes!” Alya pointed out. “Much better than some rando from a sperm bank.”
“It’d be weird! He’s our friend!” She paused for a moment, thinking it over. “Do you think he’d do it though?”
4. Wedding
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Two hearts are joined.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This one is super short but I really love it so I thought I would post it here. It is a little edited from the version posted on tumblr a while back.
Marinette laughed with joy as she walked into the crowded reception venue, arm in arm with her wife.
Alya was her _ wife _ !
She was tired and hungry and her feet her, but that fact had her bursting with energy. The wedding guests hugged and kissed both of them as they entered, cheering and laughing and congratulating them.
“My new daughter!” Alya’s father exclaimed as he hugged Marinette and spun her around.
Alya laughed and rolled her eyes. “Dad, stop!” But she was clearly too happy to even pretend to be embarrassed by her parent's actions.
Marinette extracted herself from her new father-in-law and into the waiting arms of Adrien.
“I’m so happy for you, my Lady!” He hugged her tightly. Then she was hugging Nino, and then her mom, and her dad and then her aunt, and then Alya’s cousin and a few more people she wasn't even sure she knew.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Alya pushed herself through the crowd of people surrounding both of them. “Give me my wife back.”
Marinette laughed as Alya wrapped her arms around her and kissed her. Marinette responded enthusiastically, hugging her new wife tightly. The crowd around them let out a collective _ aww _ .
“Give us space and get us some food.” Alya commanded the crowd after they pulled apart. Their parents laughed and agreed. Escaping the crowd, the two newlyweds sat down in the corner with a pair of tired and happy sighs.
“Hey.” Marinette said, taking Alya’s hand in both of hers. She stared in awe at the shining band on her finger. It was so little and simple but it carried so much weight. They intertwined their fingers, their matching rings almost too shiny to be real. Everything felt almost to shiny and wonderful and perfect to be real. But it was.
“Hey yourself.” Alya said, grinning and squeezing their joined hands. She was so beautiful. Her curls were piled on top of her head and had small white flowers woven in. Her form fitting dress was covered in intricate lace. It highlighted her soft curves and the white was a lovely contrast against her skin. And her smile held so much joy that it made Marinette want to cry and kiss her and laugh and hold her so tight that she would never let go.
“We’re married!” Marinette said giddily, barely believing it was true. They were sitting close, Alya’s legs almost covered up by the skirt of Marinette’s poofy ball gown.
“I know!” Alya said, laughing. She leaned in and they kissed again, smiling against each other’s mouths.
5. Kissing Lessons
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Marinette laments her lack of kissing experience and Alya offers to help.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> It was pointed out to me that the "kissing lessons" trope would be perfect for Alyanette.
“So yeah, Pierre is a really good kisser but he was just too annoying. I had to dump him.” Alya said, leaning back in the chair.
“What makes someone a good kisser?” Marinette wondered, propping her chin up on her hand. She always felt a little weird when Alya was talking about the guys she dated. She hadn’t kissed anyone (except for the time with Chat when Dark Cupid attacked, but she didn’t really count that) and she was embarrassed about her lack of experience. She had spent so long pining after Adrien while Alya dated around that the gap between their practical knowledge was comically large.
Alya thought for a second. “I would say it’s probably the pressure? Like, some people just like press their faces against you and that’s not good. It has to be firm, but not, like, too much.” She smiled. “Also, what they do besides just the kiss is important. Like, with their hands and their bodies. A good kiss involved more than just the lips.”
“Like, boobs and stuff?” Marinette asked, biting her lip. The way Alya described kissing was very appealing.
“That’s good too but not just that.” Alya smiled dreamily. “Like, hands on your hips or neck or in your hair. That’s all important.” | 76452a283fd84a67ab0615acde14e124 | ['611d283a65a6400cac20dc8aef74ad3c'] | Marinette sighed. “That sounds nice. . .” she said wistfully. She imagined what it would be like to kiss someone and frowned. “I would be so bad at it. I’d totally get distracted and just flop around like a dead fish.” She threw herself down on the chaise, wiggling to demonstrate her analogy.
Alya laughed. “You’d be fine. It’s a lot easier in the moment.”
“I hope so.” She turned on her side, pouting. “I don’t want to mess it up when I finally kiss someone.”
Alya tilted her head to one side, thoughtfully. “I could teach you, if you want?”
Marinette’s eyes widened. “Like, by telling me what to do or . . . ?” She wasn’t sure if Alya was suggesting what she thought she was.
Alya shrugged, but there was a slight pink tinge on her cheeks. “I was thinking we could kiss and then I could give you pointers. It’s the best way to learn.”
She had a good point. Marinette _ did _ want to be a good kisser once Adrien finally came around to her charms. But kissing Alya? She wasn’t going to pretend that she never thought about it. Alya _ was _ gorgeous after all. But she didn’t want it to be weird. Alya seemed pretty nonchalant about it, so maybe it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Alya kissed a lot of people. She just had to make sure she didn’t make it weird.
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Alya said, hesitantly. “I just thought that it might --”
“I want to!” Marinette blurted. She knew her face was bright red and her heart was beating quickly. Were they actually going to do this?
Alya smiled. “Okay, so stand up. It would be easier standing up.” She grabbed Marinette’s hand and pulled her up. Marinette hoped her hands weren’t as sweaty as they felt.
“Is there anything I should do?” She asked, biting her lip nervously.
Alya full lips curled into a soft smile and Marinette’s heart clenched as she realised that she was going to kiss those pretty lips. “Just relax and react to me however seems natural.”
Marinette took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. I’m ready.” As ready as she ever was going to be to kiss her beautiful best friend.
Alya leaned in, slowly, and kissed her on the mouth.
Her lips were so soft. They moved slowly against Marinette’s, gentle but firm and slightly demanding. Alya put her arms around her and brought her in closer, one hand resting on the small of her back and the other cupping her cheek. She tilted her head, deepening the kiss.
Marinette’s brain short circuited the moment Alya’s lips touched her own. She couldn’t focus on anything else. How did this feel _ so good _ ? She leaned closer, their chests pressing together, resting her hands tentatively on Alya’s hips. She moved her lips eagerly against Alya’s, wanting to to be closer, to feel her. When Alya deepened the kiss, brushing her tongue against Marinette’s parted lips, she let her in with no hesitation.
Their tongues moved against each other and she moaned. It felt so good, so right, to kiss Alya. She wrapped her arms tighter around Alya, bringing one hand up and burying it in Alya’s curls. Alya’s hand ran up and down her back, causing her to shiver and press closer.
Eventually, they pulled apart, breathing heavily. They smiled widely, foreheads touching.
“I. . . don’t think you need to worry about being a bad kisser,” Alya whispered, rubbing her thumb along Marinette’s jawline.
Marinette laughed with newfound confidence. “It’s only because I have such a good teacher.” And she pressed her lips against Alya’s for another kiss. |
6d09113ac4ae480dbb6deda67d1f2f18 | ['612d45e06ca5432eb5227a4499932d8b'] | Looking at Hayate suddenly tense face, Hinagiku pondered briefly.
"I guess I do." She finally replied, much to his disbelief.
"Wha-but Hina, I-"
"You said you will do anything for me." She replied gently.
"Can he wear cat ears too?" Mrs. Katsura asked.
'Sure, ma'am. Perhaps even a frilly dress as well." Risa replied, clearly enjoying the idea.
"Ahem."
"Err…Maybe not. Anyway, let's go! It's already late!"
"Wa-wait, Asakaze-san – don't drag me like this!"
Hinagiku shrugged while Mrs. Katsura puts her hand on her daughter's shoulder.
"All's well that ends well, Hina?"
To this, Hinagiku only smiled contently as her silent agreement. | c8494fc8f66f46278f40741aae179d3f | ['612d45e06ca5432eb5227a4499932d8b'] |
Deutschland, the Great Maid
"Let me get this straight...Before, Spee said you wanted to take over the secretary duty from Zed, just for the day...? Alright, I have no objections, but something is bothering me...What's with that getup?"
For the commander, Deutschland wanting to be the secretary is already surprising enough, though not necessarily shocking. The fact that she showed up wearing a maid costume, however, is nothing short of disturbing.
Said heavy cruiser, whose face is sporting the deepest shade of red, let out an undignified snarl as a response, and the commander wondered whether staying in the room with her would be a good idea or the end of him.
"Why, serv - I mean, master...of course. Let the gre - I mean, this Deutschland be of service."
Finally, she smiled, the commander noted. The smile, though, seems more obnoxious than sweet, the kind that would make Prinz Eugen proud.
And speaking of Prinz Eugen, that girl is peeking through the door with a very self-satisfied look on her face before skipping into the room.
"Oooh, I see you went through with it."
"...So you do have something to do about it, huh."
"Aaah, you make it sound bad, _herr kommandant_. You see, during the party last night, which you sadly missed, our sweet Deutschland here lost the drinking contest against me, and we both agree beforehand the loser has to, well, do anything the winner wants."
Hearing this, Deutschland let out another angry snarl.
"I swear, Eugen...when I get my hands on you, I'm going to wring that thin neck of yours. Very slowly."
"Ah ah, Dee, not in front of _herr kommandant_...and especially not when I still have that photo with me. But since I'm not a bad girl...how about...you do this, and I'll give you the photos by the end of the day? So you can throw them to the bin or whatever."
_'A photo...? Just what did they do last night...? Also, trusting Prinz Eugen...? Bad idea, Deutschland.'_
"Auuugh...Fine. But you better keep the end of your bargain, or I'll take them myself, even if I have to tear off your limbs!"
"Oooh, violent as ever. Well then, _auf wiedersehen, herr kommandant_. I won't take more of your precious break time."
And with that Prinz Eugen left the room; her laughter echoing in the hallway.
"Well, uh...Eugen's the same as ever. You okay, Deutschland?"
"...Hmph. Can't be helped. Someone as dignified as I am should keep true to her words. So...I brought some coffee. Come and get it...mas~ter."
The appellation, the sweet tone, all feel out of place, and the commander shivered as if hell itself had frozen over, but he gave her the cup anyway.
"Hmm, this is quite good." The commander said after taking a sip; he noticed Deutschland seemed to perk up at that.
"Really?! *ahem* I mean, of course, it is. I made it!"
"Oh, you do? Maybe you can make it for me every day..."
"Heeeeeh?!"
"Whoa, don't suddenly screech like that; I'm joking! Joking!"
"Well! You shouldn't joke around with me - I mean, certainly, master."
"...One more thing...You can just act like you usually do, I guess."
"Ahh, you're quite understanding for a lowlife. Very well."
With that, the clearly relieved Deutschland placed the coffeepot at the desk. It was cracked and looked like it was dangerously close to shattering; no doubt it was because she suddenly tightened her grip on it, right after the commander's request.
"And is there anything else you need me to do?" she asked; it sounds more like a demand than a question.
"I don't know. Can you do paperwork?"
Deutschland's expression twisted into something akin to disgust; though, in all fairness, most people would do the same when asked to do the dreaded desk job.
"Hmph. Me, unable to do such a simple task? Preposterous."
"...I see. Get on to it, then."
An hour passed, intermingled with frustrated groans, before Deutschland decided she had enough sorting through the myriad of documents.
"Augh! Is there no end to these blasted papers?!
"Well, since we're almost done, you can stop and take a break if you want. You seem tired." The commander replied in a most reassuring tone. _'Better not tell her Zed can do it twice as fast...'_
"Heh. As if the great Deutschland would tire herself from some menial paperwork!"
"I see. Carry on then, o great Deutschland."
Thirty minutes passed, and the commander noticed it has gone gradually quieter; a glimpse at Deutschland revealed that despite her earlier boast, the girl had fallen asleep.
'You are actually cute when asleep, huh?'
A knock interrupted the commander's thought, and he realized he had been watching the sleeping Deutschland longer than what he thinks is appropriate.
"Uh, come on in."
A somewhat short girl, clad in all black uniform is by the door, bringing several pieces of paper with her. She adjusted her posture and saluted.
" _Kommandant_ , Admiral Graf Spee, has returned."
"Oh, Spee. Welcome back. Did you bring the reports with you?"
"Of course. Here it is..."
"Thanks. Something the matter?"
Graf Spee took a glimpse of her sleeping sister. "Deutschland. Is she alright?" she inquired.
Noting the concern, the commander replied, "Ah well, I think so. She's just...mentally drained, I think...?"
"I see..."
"In any case, I guess I'll dismiss her once she wakes up. Is there anything else, Spee?"
"Everything you need to know is in the report. If I may ask something, though..."
"Yes?"
"...Did Deutschland do a good job?"
"She did...great. In her own way, yes."
"I...see. That's a relief. Deutschland is always putting up a tough front, but often she can't handle pressure really well."
"Oh. Well, but as you can see, she looked peaceful here while she sleeps, no need to worry."
"Thank you, _kommandant_. One more thing. Prinz Eugen asked me to bring this along and give it to you. I don't know what is inside; she only said it is a surprise."
It was a small envelope.
_'What is this...?'_
"Well then, _kommandant_. I'll be taking my leave." Graf Spee turned around to leave, but not before giving a faint smile towards her sister. The commander waited until she was out of sight, slit the top of the envelope, and found a photo of sleeping Deutschland, grinning like a fool and surrounded by empty beer glasses.
The commander smiled and put the photo back inside a new envelope. It's a shame, he thought, that it would inevitably be torn apart by the girl when she wakes up; he also reminded himself to keep the fact that he saw the photo a secret for the sake of his well-being.
"Seriously, Deutschland, getting worked up earlier for something like this. What's in the photo is not that different from what you are doing right now...As I said, it's cute, though...." |
3dd311b5b2e74d8b9b38b2d07513d228 | ['614c2093ae3646ca880624baeb0d5b44'] | When Jimin saw Jungkook enter his room, he almost cried right there. Jimin thought of Jungkook everytime he was awake, and his heart always ached. Jimin almost wished he slept all the time just so he couldn't think about the boy.
Seeing Jungkook again after a whole year of pain, loneliness and suffering was a breathe of fresh air for Jimin. It gave him a reason to stay awake.
"It's going to be okay.." Jimin whispered to the sleeping Jungkook. "I'm here.."
✧✦
Jimin had his hands in Jungkook's as he dragged the younger boy within the dark corridors. But unlike before, Jungkook was chuckling while he let Jimin drag him.
Jimin pushed the door open towards the garden terrace, a bright smile on his face, as bright as the stars above.
Jungkook exhales deeply. "I missed this place." He says as he walks around slowly. "You brought new stuff here?"
Jimin shrugs. "I stay here 90% of the time when I'm awake."
Jungkook grabs the baby blue blanket on the wooden swing. "This was—"
"Yours? Yeah.." Jimin mumbles. "It smelled like you, until I had to wash it." He chuckles.
Jungkook grins. "You shouldn't have washed it then."
Jimin frowns and playfully hits Jungkook's arm. "Ew."
Jungkook just laughs and sits on the wooden swing. "Come here," he holds out his hand to Jimin.
Jimin pursues his lips but obliges, and Jungkook suddenly pulls him closer that Jimin ends up sitting on Jungkook's lap.
A blush immediately creeps up on Jimin's cheeks. "J-Jungkook, we shouldn't—"
"Because I'm just your roommate?" Jungkook raises his eyebrow playfully.
Jimin frowns. "You really won't let that go, will you?"
Jungkook shrugs. "Well—"
Jimin doesn't think when he leans closer towards Jungkook and presses their lips together. Jungkook's lips were chapped because of the coldness of the night, but Jimin couldn't have asked for more.
Jimin pulls away before Jungkook could react. Jimin was so embarrassed but he puts on a smug face. "Do roommates do that?"
Jungkook looks stunned, but he smiles so lovingly and wraps his arms around Jimin's waist. "No. No they don't."
It was Jungkook who leans closer and presses their lips together this time. Jimin wraps his arms around Jungkook's neck.
They kiss until they both run out of breaths, and they pull away but press their foreheads together. Jimin stares into Jungkook's doe eyes.
They were both breathing heavily, catching their breaths before they spoke.
"I love you, Jimin."
"I'm dying, Jungkook."
They say it at the same time. Jimin's eyes widens, so does Jungkook's. He throws his head back, eyebrows furrowed and eyes wild. "What?"
Jimin shakes his head. "I'm sorry.. I.. this is the wrong moment. I shouldn't have told yo—"
"What do you mean you're d.." Jungkook shakes his head. "You just randomly fall asleep, Jimin. That's it. You're not dying." He laughs dryly.
"Baby," the endearment slips out of Jimin's lips smoothly. "You don't understand.."
"Then let me." Jungkook locks eyes with him.
Jimin takes a deep shaky breath. "Okay.." he gets out of Jungkook's lap and sits next to him instead. "It started a month after you left. Narcolepsy has no cure, right?"
Jungkook nods.
"Well Doctor Dowoon told me they were experimenting on a cure for it, and they wanted me to be the—"
"Test subject? What? And you agreed?"
"Well.. I wanted to be cured, Jungkook. You can't blame me." Jimin defends. "I took all the medications they gave me, the serum they inject in me.. it was a painful process but I thought it was gonna work."
"Jimin—"
"It did, around 5 months after it all started. I fell asleep less, I was so healthy and active. Until I started throwing up, I kept hallucinating and I keep having these unbearable migraines. It messed with my brain, Kook. It messed me up. Doctor Dowoon was sent to jail with the people that helped him."
Jungkook looks away with tears in his eyes. His fist was clenched so tight. "I don't wanna hear anymore."
"Hey," Jimin cups Jungkook's cheeks and gently turns his face towards him. "It's okay."
"It's okay?" Jungkook leans away from Jimin's touch. "You're dying, Jimin. It's not okay. It's never okay. I.. you can't.."
Jimin plants a soft swift kiss on Jungkook's lips. "I'm sorry, Jungkook. I'm so sorry."
Jungkook closes his eyes and he cries. "Jimin.. there's gotta be a way.. please.. can't they reverse it? C-can't they take away all the serums and—and.."
Jimin just shakes his head sadly, wiping away Jungkook's tears.
"I love you too, Jungkook." Jimin whispers as his soft thumb glides against Jungkook's wet cheeks. "I love you."
"Why aren't you scared?" Jungkook asks. "Why?"
"Because, Jungkook. Being scared will just give me a waste of my limited time. I should just be grateful of the time I have now. Especially the time I have with you."
"Why didn't you just.. just stay narcoleptic?" Jungkook breathes out. "It would've been okay. We would've been okay. I could just wait for you to wake up all the time and when you're awake we could spend time together, and when you fall asleep I'll just wait for you to wake up again."
"It wasn't your decision to make, Jungkook." Jimin says softly. "It was mine. I had hope in me. Too much, unfortunately."
Jungkook says nothing. He silently cries and Jimin pulls him in for a hug.
"Next time I fall asleep for so long, don't wait for me to wake anymore, okay?" Jimin whispers to him.
And Jungkook breaks down. He cries, and Jimin just holds him as he does.
✦✧
"Jimin?" Jungkook whispers in Jimin's ear. "Jimin?"
Jimin opens his eyes, and the scared look of Jungkook's face is the first thing he sees. Jimin's heart aches at that. "Jungkook.."
"Don't sleep.." Jungkook pulls him closer and hugs him tight. "I won't sleep with you."
"You can't not sleep. You're sick too. You need sleep." Jimin frowns. | 23dd065d8b3541e5be6d6c396bee49e3 | ['614c2093ae3646ca880624baeb0d5b44'] | "Jimin." Jungkook puts his hand on Jimin's shoulder and gives him a gentle squeeze. "Those 'other people' aren't you. Jungkook wants you. I might've not met your Jungkook yet, but I can tell he loves you for who you are and who you want to be."
Jimin then tears up and pouts. "Now you're making me cry!"
Jungkook laughs. "We're even then."
Jimin laughs too as he wipes his tears. "I still can't believe you're not my Jungkook and you're from another universe."
"Believe me, I still can't believe this happened to me either."
Jimin smiles and stands up. "Well I should go to sleep now. We're meeting Namjoon hyung tomorrow, right?"
"Yup. Told him already." Jungkook answers.
"Alright. Good night, JK."
"Night, Jimin."
Jimin walks towards the bedroom and Jungkook leans his head on the backrest of the sofa, closing his eyes.
"Oh, and JK?"
Jungkook turns towards Jimin in a flash. "Hmm?"
Jimin gives him a soft smile. "Your Jimin sounds like a wonderful person, and you sound like you love him very much. With the way you talked about him, I can tell you aren't the bad boyfriend that you think you are." and he closes the bedroom door gently.
Jungkook smiles and shakes his head, thankful that some of the heaviness in his chest had been lifted. He makes himself comfortable on the sofa and stares at the ceiling until he fell asleep.
The next morning, Jungkook woke up first because of the ache in his back all the way to his neck. The sofa was a little stiff and small for him, but he didn't want to complain.
Jungkook sits up the sofa the same time the bedroom door opens. Jimin emerges, his pink hair a little damp and he was all dressed up.
"Good morning." Jimin greets. "I read the text Namjoon sent to your phone, since you left it in the bedroom."
Jungkook rubs his eyes and nods. "What did he say?"
"He's meeting us for breakfast, at Seokjinie hyung's cafe."
Jungkook stands and heads towards Jimin. Jimin looks up to him, giggling. "Get ready, sleepy head. So we can get you home."
"Getting excited for me to leave are we?" Jungkook teases.
"I just want my Jungkook back." Jimin answers. "And so you can go to your own Jimin."
"Yes sir," Jungkook pinches Jimin's cheeks and heads straight to the bathroom. After he finishes showering and brushing his teeth. He gets dressed, sporting his usual college student attire, a worn out grey hoodie and jeans with his dirty white converse lows.
Jungkook heads out and he sees Jimin sitting on the sofa, waiting for him. "Let's go?"
Jimin turns to him and stares at him a bit and he tilts his head.
"Everything okay?"
Jimin blinks and immediately stands up. "Y-Yes! I just.. you look just like Jungkook, with your hair like that and your clothes.. gosh, i'm sorry. We should go." he says quickly.
"It's okay, Jimin. I know you miss him. We'll get him back." Jungkook assures him.
They head to the coffee shop in no time, and spot Namjoon helping out Seokjin putting the cakes on display. Seokjin beams as he sees the two of them. "Jungkookie! Jimin!"
Namjoon just gives them a small smile. "Hey."
"Hi Seokjin hyung, Namjoon hyung." Jimin greets the couple.
"What are you two doing here? It's early!" Seokjin asks. "Don't you have a class, Kookie?"
"They're here to meet me, babe." Namjoon butts in. "We're just going to talk about something."
"Oh." Seokjin nods slowly. "Can I ask what's it about?"
Namjoon turns towards his boyfriend, holding his hand. "I'll tell you when I can. For now, let us handle it. You trust me, right?"
Seokjin nods almost immediately. "Yes, yes of course. Don't worry."
Namjoon smiles and gives him a peck on the lips before he turns towards the two and nudges at a table. The three of them head towards the table while Seokjin prepares something for them to eat.
"So.. you know?" Namjoon looks at Jimin.
"I guess so." Jimin mumbles. "Last night."
"Hmm. You believe him?"
"Yeah." Jimin says, his voice stern. "I actually do. It's something that's hard to grasp but I just believe him."
Namjoon sighs, putting his hands on the table. "So here's what I got. I never actually believed in the multiverse, since the parallel theory was never proven. But now, with this Jungkook here, it is true."
"How is this even possible? I myself didn't even believe it but it happened to me. And why me?" Jungkook frowns.
"It's possible because we all came from the same singularity. All types of universes connect with each other but were separated because of the Big Bang. But each universe has a specific cosmic particle that connects all universes, which means that what happens here, happens in other universes, but with slightly different changes."
Jungkook blinks, trying to reel in the information.
"As to why it's happening to you, that I don't know." Namjoon's eyebrows furrows.
"Well, is there a way that JK can go back and Jungkook can come back?" Jimin asks.
Namjoon hesitates and he clears his throat. "I've been searching about it, but sadly I couldn't find anything. This never happened before, so nobody tried making research or theories."
"So I can't.. go back?" Jungkook blinks.
"I don't know yet, JK. But I promise we'll get you home, and we'll get our own Jungkook home." Namjoon assures, but Jungkook doesn't get assured.
"I can't not go home, hyung. I.. need to go back. My Jimin, he's there. I need him. I need to see him again. Hold him again." Jungkook's voice cracks.
"I know, JK. But don't forget that our Jungkook may be at your universe. He's there too. Your Jimin is not alone."
"And is that suppose to assure me?" Jungkook asks in disbelief.
"JK," Jimin holds his arms. "Just calm down.." |
9be80b900aed4559b35083a4e88d4d20 | ['6154281b77844c3f944f5d470a59e43a'] |
Morning, Glorious
Calista woke up slowly just a few minutes before the alarm she had set last night. She stretched her way into wakefulness with a fairly contented, squeaky groan and slowly opened one eye. The light wasn’t so bad. She’d need a hangover potion, of course, but all things considered she felt reasonably good. None of that was unusual for the Dark Princess the morning after a wild party, not since she’d gotten used to the amount of drinking she could get away with. What was slightly different, however, was the small warm lump in bed with her and cuddled right up against her. Calista herself had thrown a possessive arm over her bedmate and pulled the girl tightly against her. That was quite unusual; the Dark Princess fucked nearly anyone she wanted, and invited a number of her lucky liaisons into bed with her for cuddles and the like, but rarely actually slept with anyone else. Although she typically only allowed such closeness and relaxation with her own close family, she’d made a near-instantaneous exception last night. She realized with no small degree of surprise that she – and her magic – felt calm, content, and honestly just right with Julesy Avery at her side.
She watched her sleeping companion intently, a small smile stretching across her face as she leaned down to brush aside a lock of Julesy’s hair and gently kiss her awake. The squeaky, sleepy little noise Julesy made in response was adorable. “Wake up, baby girl,” Calista whispered in Julesy’s ear, before briefly turning away and sending one of her roommates scurrying from the room with only a few words and a quick gesture.
As Arabella rushed off to do the Princess’s bidding, a tentative voice heavy with the last remnants of tiredness instantly reclaimed Calista’s attention. “Princess?” Julesy was pleased and proud to be waking up in bed with the Princess, and she wondered what would be expected of her next. She hadn’t drank all that much last night so she remembered spending most of the evening at the Princess’s side or on her lap on her throne before being escorted upstairs and shown pleasures far beyond anything she’d ever known. The Princess’s possessive and hungry stare rather suggested that their fun was not yet at an end.
“Morning, glorious,” Calista chirped almost absurdly perkily, rolling over and lying on top of her Julesy – yes, that was exactly how she thought already – placing one hand on the other girl’s hip and tangling the other in her lovely hair as she kissed her firmly. “We’ve got to get ready for class soon, but I quite like having you at my side so assuming you have no objections that’s exactly where you’ll be staying for as long as possible.”
Julesy seemed content with this, happily allowing herself to be kissed and touched, and enthusiastically returning the attention, for some time, until Arabella was back and kneeling at the Princess’s side offering vials of potion.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Now entirely sobered up and energized, Calista jumped out of bed and scooped Julesy up into her arms. The Princess waved off everyone else who might have followed to assist her and carried the object of her affections to the bathroom and into the shower. Julesy’s feet touched the ground for the first time all day when the Princess set her down under the stream of warm water and pushed her gently against the heated wall of the shower stall.
“Have you enjoyed your time as a Slytherin so far?” The question was so unexpectedly casual that at first Julesy just blinked. Then, she processed it fully. Blushing, she shyly answered affirmatively, gushing a bit about how it was such an honor and everything they’d done had felt amazing.
Calista’s pleased, triumphant grin widened as she reached for the bottle of shower gel. “So have I.” Instead of a washcloth she simply poured the body wash directly into her hands, worked up a soapy lather, and reached for her Julesy once more.
The Princess carefully washed every inch of the girl, touching and caressing what she intended to properly claim very shortly. As her hands reached Julesy’s full, beautiful breasts, soap-covered fingers darted out to teasingly tweak her sensitive nipples. “So responsive,” Calista laughed. “Good girl.” Julesy squeaked. Calista kissed her, enjoying the effect she was having.
Hands drifted lower, a trail of kisses following after soap had been rinsed from warm, pale skin. The Princess was rinsing the soap off of her hand, and before Julesy had a chance to say anything she found herself gasping in pleasure as two warm, wet fingers suddenly entered her. In yet another gesture of possessive claiming, Calista began to kiss Julesy as she fingered the girl to her first orgasm of the day. Pulling away to examine her work, the Princess smirked in satisfaction at the hickeys adorning Julesy’s neck. Fingers pulled out too, and Calista brought them to her mouth, unwilling to allow the water of the shower to just wash away what was hers. She had caused this, and she would have it. “Perfect,” she proclaimed, making Julesy blush adorably yet again.
“I like you, Julesy Avery,” the Dark Princess said seriously. “Your companionship is desirable, and I find myself quite content with your presence at my side.”
“I – I like you too,” Julesy stammered, pleased and blushing even more deeply, leaning in for a kiss.
“Good.” Another kiss. “Sounds like all that’s missing is official recognition, then. Would you like to be your Princess’s girlfriend?” Both the phrasing and the tone were deceptively light. Calista wanted this more than even she could properly understand, but she certainly wasn’t going to show it.
Julesy nodded enthusiastically. “A verbal answer please, baby girl,” Calista prompted, amused.
“Yes!”
An approving chuckle this time. The excitement was cute and just perfect. “Good girl.” Another kiss, deeper, needier, more possessive. “My good girl.”
“Yours,” Julesy agreed softly, and Calista thought that her girlfriend’s blushing smiles might just be one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.
~~~~~~~~~~~
They stepped out of the shower and walked back into the bedroom, wrapped in towels and holding hands.
“I know she’s gorgeous,” the proud Princess addressed the silent dorm room full of surprised dark witches, “but really, couples showering together is hardly an uncommon sight around here. You will all kindly stop staring at my girlfriend.”
Without sparing her roommates another thought, the Dark Princess proceeded to exercise a privilege that was uniquely hers, watching in lustful admiration as her Julesy dressed in the unfortunately fairly modest Hogwarts school uniform.
The two girls walked to the common room together, then to breakfast in the Great Hall holding hands. Calista kept her girlfriend by her side until the very last moment possible, when they absolutely had to part for classes. “See you later, baby girl,” she said sending her Julesy off for the day with one last hot, fairly public kiss. | 2cc80609faff498a9ef8f7ebcb1e4313 | ['6154281b77844c3f944f5d470a59e43a'] |
Read to me, baby
Calista slouched casually on one of the couches in the common room working on a charms essay, but her concentration was interrupted when she spotted out the corner of her eye her girlfriend rushing into the room followed by a clearly complaining Pansy Parkinson. Julesy looked upset or irritated. That was not alright. Calista frowned in irritation of her own and without even really thinking about it moved from the couch to her throne. Julesy was hers, and Slytherin house was hers, and she would not tolerate members of her house upsetting her girlfriend.
“Julesy, darling!” She greeted her girlfriend warmly, standing up from the throne to pull her into a hug. Adding a kiss just because, the Princess sat and gently pulled Julesy down with her, settling her girl in her lap. “What’s up?”
“Well…” Julesy barely had a chance to begin before she was rudely interrupted by the unduly arrogant Parkinson girl, whom Calista hadn’t even acknowledged yet.
“She,” Parkinson snapped, pointing angrily at Julesy, “stole from me.”
“Oh really?” The Dark Princess drawled with a raised eyebrow. Did Parkinson really expect that she’d side with her over her girlfriend? Wasn’t it obvious that she would be pleased by her girlfriend’s happiness and that therefore anything Julesy wanted, it was the Dark Princess’s wish that she should have it? Calista knew that without question her wish was a follower’s command and her father had made it fairly clear that she was entitled to the use of their servants in any way: their time, talent, treasure, and even simply they themselves. She would have commanded Parkinson to give Julesy whatever she wanted anyway, so even if she’d taken something from the other girl it was just skipping a step - it didn’t matter and it wasn’t even really a theft.
“Yes - look!” Parkinson exclaimed, furious, pointing once again at… oh, at the book Julesy held.
“Mind your tone,” the Princess corrected coolly. Her tone changed completely as she lovingly addressed her girlfriend. “Got anything interesting?”
A blushing Julesy showed her the cover of the book. As always, Calista loved how cute Julesy was when she blushed. And one of those vampire romance novels was absolutely the perfect book for her to have. Those books were so risque they were almost banned from Flourish and Blotts in Diagon when the series had first been released, and it was still somewhat socially taboo to actually get caught reading them, which made it fairly surprising that Parkinson would admit to owning the book - especially publicly like this. “Ooh, very interesting,” Calista approved, tone lightly teasing, enjoying being naughty just as much as ever. “Read it to me, baby. You know how much I like hearing you talk dirty with that pretty little sweet mouth of yours.”
And you know how much I like the way it makes you blush when I have you do that, she thought to herself as Julesy turned very, very red. She was smiling, though, and had to try hard not to giggle as she opened the book and began reading the smutty sex scene aloud to her Princess. Fuck, that was hot. Calista leaned in to kiss Julesy’s cheek and then her neck. When her girlfriend was too distracted to continue reading, Calista made one of the easiest decisions of her life.
“Fuck, Julesy, that was so hot. You are perfect. You’ll be keeping that book regardless of its source. In fact, dear, I should rather like you to have the entire series.” The Dark Princess’s pronouncement of her judgment was imperious and clearly the final word. “That won’t be a problem, will it, Pansy?” Parkinson nearly shivered with nerves due to the intensity of the look the Princess directed to her at that question. There was only one right answer, and most likely there were only a few acceptable ways to phrase it. Her father had told her she would one day need to master the ceremonial and formal aspects of life in the Dark Lord’s service, but she hadn’t expected to need the knowledge so soon.
Pansy instinctively curtsied slightly before answering, unable to prevent her voice shaking with nervousness. “Not at all, My Princess. It would be an honor to present your girlfriend with a gift to be used in your service.” Pansy’s words were pretty but not entirely satisfying.
“What do you think of that, Julesy baby?”
Julesy was, of course, Slytherin to the core and not one to pass up a chance to mess with someone who had offended and insulted her. “I don’t know…” she said with feigned reluctance, “I think perhaps I’d best not accept a “gift” from someone who would make such a scene accusing me of stealing from her?” And there it was, Julesy had drawn attention right back to Pansy’s massive mistake, which she’d been hoping could be quietly forgotten. There was no chance of that now.
Calista admired her girlfriend’s perfectly-laid trap. Indeed, this terribly insulting behavior did need to be addressed. With a gentle kiss to Julesy’s lips, she reassured, message intended more for Parkinson, “I’m sure Parkinson regrets her ill-considered words.”
Pansy nodded frantically. Of course she did. She wasn’t sure what she’d been thinking but she hadn’t meant for this to happen! The Dark Princess nodded, her firm tone a clear command. “Miss Avery will hear your apology as well when she allows you to offer your gifts.” Thus, Pansy, neatly trapped and left no other choice, was dismissed to go get the other four books in this series that she’d saved for and so carefully snuck past her parents. She returned quickly, and, this time, had the good sense to kneel before the Princess and her girlfriend cuddling on the Dark Princess’s throne as she offered the required books and apology.
Julesy made sure to consider Pansy’s words for long enough to make her nervous that the Princess’s girlfriend would reject both them and the gift the Princess had ordered. Just as nerves were starting to turn to panic, Julesy finally spoke. “Remember who you’re talking to and choose your words more wisely in the future.” The offered books were quickly snatched away. “You may go now,” Julesy said dismissively. “My girlfriend and I want to have some fun now. I’m hot when I read to her, apparently.”
Pansy looked to the Dark Princess for direction, not believing that the Avery girl had the authority to command anyone. Calista was almost entirely absorbed in paying attention to her girlfriend at this point and she barely spared a second for the other girl. “You’re dismissed,” the Princess confirmed without even a glance at Parkinson, far more interested in snogging Julesy. |
e17e9141fd3b4c0d8188495987380a62 | ['6156f513af754ca595d29af4ae37b503'] | “No!” Jake jumped out from the Archives room. There was no way in hell that the Captain was _ ever _ going to find out about this. Jake would die from embarrassment instantly.
Rosa turned to Jake, no longer looking murderous. Instead she looked confused, maybe even concerned. “What do you mean? Jake, Sarge is- that’s not allowed. If he’s using his position to hurt you-”
It was Jake’s turn to be confused. “What? No. That’s not-”
“Hang on. I think we all need to sit down and talk about this.” Terry was back in Sergeant mode. Jake forgot to be mad at him and instead followed him like a lost puppy. If anyone could talk their way out of this, Terry could.
A minute later, they were all seated around the cluttered desk of the Archives room. Rosa had her arms crossed and her eyebrows raised, clearly demanding a good explanation. Jake shifted in his seat, embarrassed to his very core.
“Rosa, I understand that what you heard sounded like I was abusing my power. But actually, this is an… _ arrangement _ that Jake and I worked out a while ago. It’s unconventional, but it’s consensual.”
“You’re saying that you’re consensually hurting- _spanking_ \- Jake?” Her face was twisted into a mixture of disgust, disbelief, and sick amusement that only Rosa could create.
“Sort of…” Jake mumbled.
Rosa blinked, surprised. “And does Sharon know about this?” she asked after a pause.
Terry bristled. “Yes, as a matter of fact, she does. And it’s not sexual! This is about providing Jake with discipline and structure. It’s an odd method, yes, but none of the punishments available at the precinct seem to work. And this does. I offered to do this so that Jake could become a better detective.”
Rosa let this sink in for a moment. “Jake. Are you _ actually _ agreeing to this?”
“Yes!” He hated to admit it, but he also needed Rosa to know that Terry wasn’t doing anything wrong. “I know it’s weird, but it helps! Please, Rosa, just don’t go telling everyone about this.” Jake offered her the pleading face she could never turn down.
Rosa didn’t speak for a bit, thinking hard. “So you’re really spanking him?” Terry nodded sheepishly. She shook her head slowly. “This is fucked up.”
Jake felt his face flush. “Hey, don’t judge! It works, okay? It’s not like Terry holds it over me or anything. It’s not interfering with work- it’s helping!”
“And I never do it while we’re at the Precinct- well. I definitely wanted to a couple of minutes ago,” Terry laughed. “Sorry, but you were being a little shit.”
Jake ducked his head. “I kinda was,” he admitted. _ Still, _ he added bitterly to himself, _ I had a pretty damn good reason to. _
“Rosa.” Terry turned back to her. “I know we’re not technically allowed to be doing this. But I truly think it’s helping Jake, and as Sergeant I want to help everyone in the Precinct be the best they can be. I would really appreciate it if you helped us keep this…”
“A secret?”
“Well- yes.” Terry looked at her with pleading eyes.
“If this is what you need, Jake, then yeah. I can keep a secret. Besides,” Rosa’s eyes glinted “you definitely deserve a good spanking after today.”
Jake bit his lip and glared at her, but he knew his face was beet red. Dammit, had he no pride left?
Rosa stood up and brushed at her thighs. “Sorry for overhearing your… well. That. And Jake?” She looked over her shoulder as she made to leave.
“What?”
“Next time you screw up, just know I’m going straight to Sarge.”
Jake and Terry sat, listening, until the sound of Rosa’s boots faded away. Then Terry turned to his victim.
“That went better than I expected.” Jake nodded his sullen agreement. “Now clean up that mess and go back upstairs.” He stood up and left Jake alone with his thoughts.
. . . . .
When Jake made it back up to the bullpen, his gaze immediately shifted over to Rosa’s desk. She looked back and gave him a smug smile.
Looking back, Jake realized that it was futile from the very beginning. No matter how secretive Terry promised he would be about the matter, you just couldn’t hide things from a precinct of detectives. But why did it have to be _ her? _
Detective Rosa Diaz, stone cold bitch, the most terrifying and mysterious person on the face of the planet, knew that Jake Peralta spent some of his evenings getting his butt roasted over Terry’s knee. It was absolutely humiliating, to say the least. Jake might even call it soul-crushing. His will to live was slipping through his fingertips.
And what’s more, his butt had been invited to a mandatory appointment that very night- an appointment that would end in agony and, based on experience, tears. It was shaping up to be one of the worst days of Jake’s life.
As his thoughts swirled at high-speed, Jake’s earlier anger began to simmer again.
“It’s not fair,” he said through gritted teeth, ignoring whatever dumb comment Santiago had made. _ It’s not fair. _
6. Chapter 6
Jake watched the clock with growing dread. There were only fifteen minutes left before he had to leave. Fifteen minutes.
He twisted around in his chair to see that Terry was also looking at the clock. He stiffened, as if he felt Jake’s gaze on him, then turned to make eye contact. Jake flinched and shifted back to face his desk. Amy was staring at him with that expression that said she was going to start teasing him.
“Are you excited to leave work?” she asked, raising an eyebrow in anticipation of whatever quip Jake would come up with. | 93c1074b9e764444813a8e2cd46df5bf | ['6156f513af754ca595d29af4ae37b503'] | Terry looked at him with such disgust, Jake almost feared the man might leave. Or throw him over his knee right then and there. Thankfully, however, Terry pointedly threw the jar into the trash and proceeded in pulling out vegetables.
“Agh! Get those out of here!” Jake cried as he watched a bag of carrots enter his fridge.
Terry ignored him until all of the groceries were put away. “You’re going to start taking care of yourself. You need to act like an adult. I’m going to make you a shopping list next week, and I expect you to follow it.”
Jake threw his head back and groaned to prove he was in no mood to act like an adult.
“Anyways,” Terry continued, closing the refrigerator door and standing up straight. “Let’s get started.”
Jake suddenly remembered why Terry was in his house, and he felt the flood of nerves that was becoming rather familiar these days. The Sergeant sat in the middle cushion of Jake’s couch and waited patiently.
“U-um. Okay.” Jake walked over to Terry and pulled down his sweatpants gracelessly. He was tugged over Terry’s lap and immediately the man’s hand was on his bottom.
“You’re not gonna use the… the belt again, are you?” Jake squeaked.
“No, the belt’s for major offenses. Like trying to get out of your punishment. And lying.”
Relieved, Jake’s muscles became considerably less taut. He moved to grab a pillow, then realized that there wasn’t one.
“Uh- Sarge? I don’t have a-”
“Oh, my bad! Go get one, but be quick.” Terry tried to keep his voice stern, but he sounded a lot more like a dad trying to get his kids to school on time. Still, Jake had no desire to test his patience, and he was back in seconds with a pillow clasped in his arms.
“Tell me why this is happening,” Terry ordered.
Jake organized his thoughts for a moment before speaking. “I got drunk, I said terrible things about Holt, and I punched Jimmy Brogan in the face.”
“Not quite,” Terry said. “You’re not in trouble for punching Jimmy Brogan. Terry doesn’t condone violence, but that was an offense I can forgive. He was being a real jerk, and you stood up for what you know is right.”
Well, that was a pleasant surprise.
“But you _ are _ in trouble for getting drunk with a reporter. It resulted in you acting entirely unprofessional, and yes, you did say terrible things about Holt. If you had known when to stop drinking, you wouldn’t have ended up in that situation. You need to learn that staying in control is way more important than impressing anyone. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Jake said heavily. He didn’t think he’d have much trouble remembering this particular lesson, since it turned out that he had been trying to impress an absolute asshole.
Terry landed the first swat.
“Ow!” Jake cried before stuffing his face into the pillow.
The swats continued, fast and burning. After half a minute, Terry spoke again.
“I think this situation pretty much speaks for itself, so I’m not gonna say much. Just that I want you to be mature enough to know that alcohol is a slippery slope. It can be really fun if you use it correctly. But if you don’t stay in control, it’ll make you do and say things that you’ll really regret. Okay?”
“Okay! Ow!”
Terry remained silent after that, focusing solely on covering all of Jake’s butt with fast, stinging slaps. Jake squirmed under his rapid-fire technique, his legs kicking up of their own volition. He hated how thorough Terry was, and he hated just how much the man could make a spanking hurt.
As far as spankings went, though, Jake had to admit it wasn’t the worst. After a few minutes, he felt his torso angling forward, signalling the beginning of the end. Swats rained down on Jake’s sit spots, causing him to wriggle and gasp, but it was soon over.
“All done,” Terry said, rubbing away the sting.
“That’s it?” Jake asked, surprised.
“What, do you want more?”
“N-no!” Jake protested, leaping up. Terry laughed.
“I’m gonna fix you some dinner. Put your pants back on.” He walked to the kitchen.
Jake pulled up his sweatpants. He was sore, and his butt was pretty warm, but it was nothing compared to the last session. He definitely didn’t feel like sitting, though, so he lay belly-down on the couch.
“What’s this?” Jake asked, wrinkling his nose at the plate Terry brought him.
“It’s salad!”
“Ew, ew, ew!” Jake set the plate down on the coffee table like it might detonate. There was no way any of that was entering his body.
Terry sat down in the armchair. “That plate’s gonna be clear by the time I leave.”
Jake glared at him, but didn’t dare argue. He tentatively picked up a leaf (what was that, spinach? Eurgh.) and bit at a corner.
“On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate it?”
“Four,” Jake said easily.
“Alright, seems fair. It wasn’t meant to be a harsh spanking, more of a reminder. Anything else you want to talk about?”
“Nope, I didn’t have any problems.”
The after-spanking talk was getting a lot less awkward. Jake kind of hated how routine this was becoming.
“Alright, sounds good. Just finish your salad, and then I’ll be off.”
It took Jake a quarter of an hour to finish the measly plate of greens, and there was much huffing and eye-rolling. But finally, Terry was satisfied and left Jake’s apartment with a simple “See you tomorrow!” and a click of the door. Jake drank a can of soda to wash out the taste of the vegetables.
3. Chapter 3 |
981f9b73ba2647f4b442e667827daa91 | ['615c5521134c4a3b820c22e608e86027'] |
The Pipeweed Incident
**Author's Note:**
> A/N: I most warm you, English is not my first language so there will be mistakes, and the POV changes constantly. No slash unless you squirm really hard and even so it would be Legolas/literally the whole fellowship. This gave me LegolasxBoromir feels though.
Nearly a week had passed after the fellowship’s departing from Rivendell, and to say that they were yet to get accustomed to one another was an understatement.
“Oi! Be careful you wazzock” Gimli bristled glaring at the arrow embedded into the tree trunk less than an inch away from his nose.
“Stray arrow” Legolas’ grin was obvious in his voice even as he twirled away from the dwarf and shoot another arrow in one fluid motion, successfully hitting a rabbit ten yards afar.
“You are behaving like an elfling, Mellon-nin” Tiredly, Aragorn went to retrieve the dead animal, handing the arrow back its owner “I think this will suffice for dinner” promptly he flung the hunt over his shoulder with the others and made way for their camping hideout.
“More like breakfast” protested Gimli, throwing a dirty glance both at the increasing light on the sky above and at the elf rearing them.
They were all worn out after walking almost twelve hours straight, with little to no pause for rest and meals. The openness of the valley they were journeying through had kept them walking until sunrise, when Aragorn had made a sharp turn left and guided them to a secluded section of trees about a mile wide. In the center, two huge rocks leaned against each other in a makeshift cave served them as refuge for the daytime.
The Ranger went directly inside to help Sam prepare their meal, while Legolas knelt by the near pond to fill his waterskin.
With how little he ate and the amount of water he drank, the elf held a humorous resemblance to a plant in Gimli’s mind and he didn’t hesitate in stating so in a satire way.
“Well, you too remind me of nature, but I would never compare a lady with a horse’s behind” the smugness in his voice rose as he towered over the dwarf.
“Look who is talking you little effeminate airhead”
“At the very least you have elf women to parallel me too, which is more than can be said of dwarves”
“That is enough of you both” Gandalf’s angry voice trumped as his head emerged from their cave “the sun is already too high, we must shield ourselves from unwanted eyes, there certainly is no reason for us to be hear as well. Come quickly!”
The blond walked past with a blank expression, and Gimli swore under his breath before following, already thinking of ways to get him back from the arrow and the insults.
* * *
After everyone had partaken in the stew Sam had managed to make with their hunt, they sat around the cave just talking for a while. But heavy eyelids and jerking heads had them setting the watches and finally laying down for some well-deserved rest.
Legolas as usual had offered to take the first and last watches, but Gimli had protested about not wanting to be interrupted in his sleep and claimed the last turn for himself.
Now the sun was low in the horizon, close to sunset, and Gimli glanced around their camp: over the huddled forms of the hobbits; Boromir, Aragorn and Gandalf facing away from him in their bedrolls, and lastly Legolas sitting with his back against one of the stone walls, head tilted toward his shoulder and eyes staring unseeingly straight ahead. Most of the fellowship had been uneasy when they first learned that the elf slept with his eyes wide open, specially the hobbits Merry and Pippin with a bit of a screaming episode, but now it was almost normal. Almost.
Soon everyone would wake up, if he was to act it had to be now. Gimli laid his axe down and reached for the small pouch that he kept in his bag before furtively making his way to the sleeping elf. He had noticed Legolas distancing himself from the group each time they got their pipes out to smoke, but unlike Boromir who simply didn’t like to and still tolerated them, the look of sheer disgust on the elf’s face was always clear as crystal. His fingers worked fast in finding Legolas’ waterskin in the growing darkness of their cave, dropping in a few leaves from the pouch. His pulse beating in his ears with the thrill of getting caught until he was back sitting in his post, a smirk tugging at his lips, _“That should teach him”._
Aragorn sat up and Legolas stirred and blinked back into awareness.
Once they’ve taken a small breakfast of fruit and some bread they packed up and set off immediately, dipping into the dark lands. Gandalf, Aragorn and Frodo lead their path, Merry, Pippin and Boromir after them, at the rear Sam and Bill the pony walked between Gimli and Legolas, who was last. After about an hour of walking the dwarf caught a glimpse of the archer taking a long deep sip from his water in the starlit night, and quickly turned away biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, watching in anticipation for the elf’s reaction out of the corner of his eye.
The bitter taste hit Legolas as soon as the water passed his throat and he spluttered. Sam threw him a worried look and that accursed dwarf guffawed “Sabotaging my water?” he hoarsely cleared his throat, “You grow –cough– more childish –cough– with each…-" he couldn’t continue for a painful coughing fit breached through his body, the blond reached a hand to his neck as his airway tightened and his breath didn’t quite reach his lungs, all the sudden he felt light headed and weak, fright was fastly clouding his mind.
“Strider!” came Sam’s aghast shout “help!” | 399e91f7d159466f9702e0f1eb52572f | ['615c5521134c4a3b820c22e608e86027'] |
What loyalty will get you
**Author's Note:**
> There are depictions of blood and attempted rape in this work, if that bothers you PLEASE STOP READING.
_Why?_
Beleg wasn’t sure if it was just his heart pondering all of his poor choices or his mind trying to distract him from the gruesome pain. It wasn’t the worst he’d ever had. But it was **_damn well close_** _._
_Why did Túrin have to run away? Why did Saeros had to go and die? Why did no one stop any of it from happening?_
_Why did he, like an idiot, deny any other help in bringing his husband back? Why on Arda did Thingol not insist?_
_Why did he allow himself to fall for the idiot of a Man in the first place?!_
His own questions did not overcome theirs in his ears. Each howling inquiry unanswered came with the crack of the whip and the stinging across his torso. Not even his back, but his stomach and sides.
_Those bastards_.
Most of their questions didn’t even make sense! What could he know of the orc leader’s plan for the scouts they have been sending? It was one thing never to have seen and elf and thus not recognize one, but it was other entirely different to deem them kin of orcs.
_Ignorant and stupid bastards._
But of course, silently slipping into the middle of their gathering and merrily demanding to see their leader whilst armed to the teeth may have not given the image Beleg wanted to project. He would not have been overpowered if they hadn’t feigned taking him to Túrin and hit him in the head with a cauldron the second he turned. These Men were fell and devious indeed.
The huge one in front of him drew out a long and crooked hunting knife. With a few strides he was so close Beleg could feel his breath falling on his brow. It spoke much of his size that he stood above and elf, even by a few inches.
His words were so slurred the blond couldn’t catch the half meanings he understood of their speech. For answer Beleg gave a twisted grin and a small shrug.
The brute grinned back as he pressed the blade flat against a lash just beneath the elf’s chest. His other hand shot up to grasp a handful of blood-coated silver hair and shook Beleg violently, making the edges of the hunting knife dig and rub into the tender open flesh of the wound in a new angle with each movement.
Beleg hissed, pulling back his lips to show teeth and tensing up in an effort to stop the tearing. But in this, his own muscles moved and shook and pressed against the blade bringing more flames to his flesh.
The big Man swooshed back. The Men around them cheered and Beleg’s heart sunk to his belly as he saw the cauldron approaching.
He pulled with all his might against his restrains, both leather and rope scrubbing his wrists raw. Hard barn splintered on the open wounds at his sides. His legs were also tied to the tree.
A woman with a dark glint in her eyes held the boiling water right under the archer’s nose. A drop fell on creamy pale skin. Beleg shuddered. She smiled and began pouring a slow tricked down his chest and stomach. Beleg writhed, struggling to drown the scream bubbling in his throat as the water made its scorching trail down his body to mud the dirt and blood beneath him. His breath raced his heart to see which would stop first.
It was gone for a moment as more barely understandable words were spat at him. He grunted back. It seemed to be the wrong response.
After a quick nod to the others, the woman pierced Beleg with her brown eyes. The cauldron was emptied over his feet.
Beleg howled as the burn engulfed him, the thin leather of his boots feeling like it was being melted over his skin and all the way to the bone.
The laughter around him made him sick. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes but he’ll be doomed before he gave them the satisfaction.
An argument broke among the Men. In his window of relieve Beleg managed to catch the word for mine. From several different voices.
_No_. _Oh_ **NO!**
With renew strength Beleg fought the bonds. He would not have it. He did NOT survive century after century for these…these…savages to tear his fëa out of his body. One of them seemed to have won the argument -whether Man or Woman Beleg could not tell in his frenzy. They inched closer licking their teeth with their mouth open. The tree trunk cracked under the blond’s force but the bonds held.
They brought a rough hand to Beleg’s stomach and rubbed all over the blood smeared skin in a sort of caress.
Beleg’s breath caught in his throat.
_Elbereth, please no_! Not after Túrin! After everything he had sacrificed to be with his young Man!
The person before him bent down to lick and suck the blood off Beleg’s collarbone.
It was too much. Just too much for him.
Beleg shut his eyes tightly, anguish turning to a rage so vicious that he almost choked on it. Because, damn it all! But he would not die before his absolute shit of a husband had a piece of his mind! Slipping his head to the level of the other, shorter person he gave them a wry grin. Quick as a viper Beleg shot up and caught their mouth, biting their lower lip, hard.
Blood filled his mouth and he spit it at the face of his assaulter being dragged back by their peers. The words that spewed from their mouth Beleg didn’t need to guess their meaning. His blood stained lip curled in a challenging sneer. He would not go down easy.
“Beleg”
His keen ears caught the soft whisper from across the camp, and there he stood. Late as usual. Eloquent as usual. Stupidly handsome as usual. _Túrin._
Alas, was that Man in trouble. |
fa462f42aa84423996225ffc41380487 | ['616cec20baa947588135f37cc19acbb0'] | “I believe we do have the equivalent number of active agents both in and off the field with same titles to your time’s Kingsman.” Harry said after taking a moment to lay out his words. “You have met Lancelot, Merlin and me.”
Harry waited for Eggsy’s response and continued when the boy firmly nodded at him.
“Roxy must have told you this but pardon me to remind you that due to the theory that there might be a betrayal in our organization, we don’t think it’s a good idea to risk the change of your identity be exposed.”
“Don’t worry bout’ that, I understand. I’ll try my best. Keep my head down and be a handy resource of both information and physical support.” The young blond avoided Harry eyes as he replied and the older man could easily taste faint bitterness in his voice.
“Eggsy,” Harry called out, pausing to give the boy enough time to make his way back to meet his eyes, “we would appreciate your help but we genuinely worry about your safety.”
Eggsy looked at Harry attentively, his mouth slightly parted but couldn’t utter out a word for an instant response.
“And believe me when I say this, with that name Galahad you have claimed your own, we do need you in this fight.”
The boy’s wariness of himself faltered and faded after that.
“Thanks, Harry.” He replied with a beaming grin across his face. “So my Arthur was actually a disqualified candidate?” The boy asked forthwith as he noticed his cheeks were turning red.
“Yes, indeed. He had made it to the last three candidates in the training program alongside with Lancelot, but he ultimately failed at the loyalty test. Somehow, Mr. King had found an illicit way to bring him back.”
“Loyalty test? Well that guy must pay for bitchin’ me all the time bout’ my background.” Eggsy muttered. “Wait, s’it the tying to the rails one?”
“Thirty five years and I can’t imagine that they still use that.” Harry nodded and his lips slightly curved up.
“Yeah, still scared the shit out of me.” Eggsy countered and huffed a little laugh at that.
“But you passed with flying colours as it seems.” Harry fixed his eyes at the boy’s and it made him felt even prouder than he was before for what he did.
“Yeah, I did.” He smiled at the man.
After a long yet pleasant silence, Eggsy continued their conversation when he noticed the heaviness tugged at Harry’s look and tried to finish what he wanted to ask for from the start.
“Harry, I need to get back to the field, to be put in action before it’s too late.”
“And you will. Lancelot will be back by tomorrow and she can join you with your practice to help you be in good shape for the missions.” He answered. “If your condition is stable enough, obviously.”
“It is.” Eggsy replied quite sharply.
“That’s good, then. Since the impending problem probably derived from our leaders, we should henceforth be truly careful with every single move.”
“Got it.” The boy swallowed Harry’s words and braced himself for the arduous time ahead. “And Harry, you looked awful, not that kind of awful but tired, y’know. You should go home and rest.”
“I think so too.” Harry agreeably nodded, unfolding himself from a chair to stand up but then stopped to look at the boy.
Eggsy’s medal stayed still in his pocket as he decided to turn away before the boy could ask him about something that he was unlikely to be able to answer easily.
Eggsy watched Harry collected his stuff, turning off the lamp in the corner and headed out after wished him goodnight. Suddenly, the boy didn’t wholeheartedly want Harry to leave yet couldn’t make himself unreasonable enough to stop the man. But right at the moment Harry had set one foot out of the entrance, Eggsy unexpectedly called out.
“Harry, you really believe me?”
He asked as the man turned his head to look at him in question, and Harry was slightly stunned by the wariness in Eggsy’s tone.
“Are you telling the truth, Eggsy?” He returned with another question.
“Yes, I am.”
“Then why should I not.”
And the door closed behind him. Eggsy looked at that way longer than he should but he couldn’t bring himself to care, and his grin was so wide that hurt his cheeks. The sleepiness crawled its way back to Eggsy easily and quickly than he thought but he was so pleasant to comply, and he knew surely that it wasn’t because of the remaining sedative in his system.
***
“He what?!” Roxy shouted out in surprise but mostly discontent after hearing what Merlin has said, and Eggsy could totally understand her reaction at the news.
Roxy’s flight has been delayed and since it was just about an hour, she didn’t request for the Kingsman private jet but it was enough to made her late for the meeting with Arthur, which turned out to be a convenience for him to proclaim his new decision. Besides Harry, Merlin believed only Roxy would lodge a protest against Arthur’s order during the meeting.
“How could he decide to put you out in the field?!”
Merlin heaved out a long sigh, pinching his bridge then looked up at Roxy.
“He put me _back_ in the field, Lancelot. I was originally a field agent.”
“But it was decades ago.” She countered.
Merlin rolled his eyes, as the way he took in her words, it did seem like the girl just called him old, _again_. But Merlin he knew he didn’t have to think so much to understand that Arthur’s new order for him was some kind of irrational. Roxy had her point after all, he hasn’t been in the field for so long that he actually had some doubts about those essential skills he needed to survive out there. | 17002fe2d8f74eb7a9aa83eabbbb0a4d | ['616cec20baa947588135f37cc19acbb0'] | Merlin didn’t expect that Harry had already left without waiting for him. When he pushed the door open, looking around for his friend but all he had was a long and empty hall which somehow felt drearier than usual. An unwanted kind of quiet. He partly doubted that Harry was rushing to get away or maybe worse, avoiding. And Merlin knew Harry, avoiding has never been his way of dealing things, especially with this kind of unimaginable situation. This was the first time Merlin could not understand his old friend’s thought, and that was something which he could never believe would happened.
They first met when Merlin and Harry were both only in their early of 20’s. They were young, vigorous and emphatic for achievements in their career as a, well, secret spy. How funny that after half of a life time, it still always felt full of indulgence saying that title, and that was the reason why Merlin eventually found himself had some empathy for that young man’s rejoinder earlier. He and Harry has been through so much that he had thought nothing in this world could astonish him anymore until Eggsy came abruptly and full of mystery. He wasn’t sure whether it was the fact that Eggsy might be a danger for their organization or the boy’s assertion of being Galahad that aggravated him so much. And above all, it was obvious that the way Harry handled the situation has set him on edge.
As if Harry had known something behind.
Although there was an urgency surged within, Merlin wasn’t wholly certain about what should be done next. He was very aware of how required it was to inform Arthur of this latest occurrence before it got out of their hand, but he did need help in finding a way to rationalize the whole thing. Despite knowing that Harry rarely used his provided office here at the mansion and he prefer to work at home, the instinct which Merlin had earned from those years being Harry’s friend told him that Harry was still here, and they were about to have some contemplative conversation. He turned on his heels, heading to Harry’s office.
The man knocked the door two times, didn’t wait for his friend’s approval then offhandedly pushed it open. And what caught his eyes had made him alarmed. There was Harry sitting behind his desk, oddly concentrating on the laptop screen with voluminous piles of paper and file stacked up in front of him. Merlin could instantly visualize something was so on the wrong track. Harry Hart detested paper works.
Merlin’s brows drew together, his expression was perplexed by the confusion between concern and curiosity. Regardless of the other man’s arrival, Harry still glued his eyes on the screen up front, didn’t bother to look up. An undertow of anxiety tugging at Merlin’s thought when he eventually made sense of what was happening now and earlier. He reached for his glasses, going offline. He narrowed his eyes at Harry while slowly approached him then purposefully let his hands slip and dropped his clipboard along with the tablet on the table. An audible noise stopped Harry’s ceaseless movements on the keyboard, he heaved out a sigh, leaning back on his chair and finally lifted his head to meet his friend’s gaze.
The bald man raised his brows in guarded questioning, patiently waiting for an upright explanation.
“What can I help you, Merlin?” asked Harry.
Merlin rolled his eyes at the man, at how he underestimated his comprehension toward him.
“Where is that boy’s medal, Harry?”
A brief moment passed before Harry gave out his words.
“I believe I have no idea what you're talking about.” He blinked a few times at his old friend who didn’t bother to withdraw any of his suspicion.
“Really, Harry?”
Harry dropped his eyes, when he chose to stay he had already known this would happen, he couldn’t hide anything from Merlin nor intended to. He reached under his desk, raised the lid, drew out a drawer, and took out a classic navy pocket square, Harry’s favorite as Merlin noticed. He hadn’t realized it hasn’t been in Harry’s pocket before, or since Eggsy was brought in to be specific. Harry put it on those unfinished pile of reports and even though it was well covered under the finest silk, Merlin could clearly distinguish the familiar shape of the medal.
He was right. Merlin thought triumphantly. Harry Hart was the man with a bullet less than an inch from his heart still didn’t give a word about Kingsman and he knew nothing in this world could stir up his willpower. Merlin pulled out a chair nearby and settled into it, he has found some amusements in being in charge of the case, becoming the handler behind the screen had its own perks he guessed.
“Okay, Harry, what can I help you with?” asked Merlin.
Oh how fast the table turned. Harry remained his look on Merlin for a while, considering his words as it may seemed then he closed his laptop, taking the handkerchief on the desk and tucked it back carefully in his inside pocket. He pulled himself up into a stand, buttoning his jacket with a smooth motion, he walked around his desk to stand up front then slightly leaned against it. His legs crossed and arms folding firmly on chest in such elegant posture.
Harry has never tried so hard to create a charismatic presence and worked it well, everything about him seemed so natural yet had its own influence toward the others.
“I assumed that it was a test.” He said and his answer caused nothing but a frown from Merlin.
“What do you mean?”
“I knew the medal was real, it was how intimate with the medal that boy is I wanted to appraise.”
Merlin gazed at his friend, eyes flashed out a witty look as his lips curved up into a smirk.
“And now you’re feeling guilty.” |
a364c50381144eb58ea798a0ec8b0e0c | ['617713e0a7624b0ba389a55588cd7845'] | The car shuddered to a stop and she clutched her own skirt. She was wearing the only black thing she owned. A crushed velvet dress with a white collar. She felt like fucking Wednesday Addams. Connor hated it when she wore too much black, anyway. He said it made her look sad. He hated it when she looked sad.
He hated all of this. Or he would have. If he were fucking here. She felt the need to kick and scream and throw things. But she bit it all back and started sobbing again, bringing her knees up on to the seat and burying her face into them. So much crying. So much. She hadn’t stopped since she’d found out. She wondered if she ever would.
A hand knocked on her car door and she flinched, looking up. Janis was there, looking remarkably toned down for, well. For being Janis. She sniffled and started crying harder, popping the door open and reaching out for her. Janis hugged her tightly and after a moment, helped her out. They walked into the door of the funeral parlor, and Brooke immediately started sweating, feeling trapped and surrounded despite there not being very many people at all, much less very many around her. She felt like everyone’s eyes were on her.
“Breathe, Brooke. Breathe.” Janis gently guided her to the side where the funeral register was. She flinched seeing barely half the page taken up. No one fucking cared about Connor. Not like her. She fought the urge to rip the page out and instead picked up the pen in her hand. She could see herself shaking but she couldn’t feel it, couldn’t stop it. Scrawling her name, she set it back down and leaned against the wall, desperate to get herself together. She couldn’t face Cynthia and Larry like this. Who knew the kind of shit she’d say? And Zoe… Zoe would need someone to lean on. She couldn’t do this. Not right now.
She righted herself slowly and moved into the main room.
God he would have hated all the flowers.
“You’re the only flower I need,” he’d said once. She’d laughed and said she felt more like a cactus. He said someone who drank as much water as her could never be a cactus.
Her heart broke a little more thinking about it.
She scanned the room. Evan and Heidi were sat to one side and she felt Janis pull away and go to her best friend. She felt for them both. Evan and Connor were getting closer, making up for the darkness in their pasts. She and Janis had been so fucking excited when they’d decided to start getting to know each other. And now… Now that would never happen. She wondered if Janis was grateful that it was Connor and not Evan. She hated herself for wondering it.
Larry, Cynthia, and Zoe were at the front of the room next to the… the casket. She swallowed, pushing her knotted hair away from her face and walked over to them, wondering if she looked as messed up as she felt. She was certain she did. Cynthia got choked up when she saw her.
“Brooke!” she sobbed, grabbing her and pulling her in for a hug. Brooke stiffened but returned it for the sake of civility.
“I’m so… so sorry, Cynthia. I’m sorry.” She pulled away, glancing at Zoe. The other girl’s face was stony and cold. Brooke reached out and touched her arm gently. She softened a little under Brooke’s touch but stayed where she was. Brooke swallowed again and glanced at the casket. Dark wood. Tasteful. Something he’d actually approve of.
She still didn't have the heart to look inside.
Cynthia must have caught her looking because she grabbed Brooke’s hand again.
“Did he… I mean… Did you…?”
“If you’re asking me if I knew this was coming, I didn't,” Brooke snapped. Her voice was cold and harsh. Cynthia’s face screwed up in shame.
“I’m sorry, of course not! I’m sorry…” She left and Larry went after her. Zoe crossed her arms.
“They asked me too. I’m glad Janis and Heidi are here, because otherwise I’m sure they would’ve asked Evan too… He’s not doing too great.”
Brooke shook her head, trying to sort herself out.
“I just… I know logically it wasn’t my fault but… I just talked to him. He fell asleep. I felt so safe and I… I thought he did too.” Brooke sniffled and rubbed her eyes on her sleeve, grateful, not for the first time, that she didn't wear makeup. She felt so alone. The only person she wanted was him and he wasn’t there. And he would never be there again.
She should’ve gone to his house.
She should’ve been there.
Zoe tucked her hair behind her ear and squeezed her shoulders gently.
“Brooke. You were the best friend my brother ever had. You did so much fucking good for him, you made him better. You couldn’t have changed this. You did everything you could.”
“You really think so?” she asked. Zoe nodded, but her face twisted into a scowl.
“I do think so. This was his fault. If he weren’t so fucking selfish all the time, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Selfish? You think he was selfish? He was so fucking good to _ me _ . Everyone thinks ‘Oh Connor is so needy and dependent. Oh, Connor is such an asshole, what does Brooke see in him? Oh, Connor doesn’t have anything to offer the world.’ Connor was _ everything _ ! He gave me _ everything _ ! He gave me my life back. He made me feel like I was worth so much more than anyone else ever has!” She wrenched herself away from Zoe, hurt blossoming on her face and her fists clenching her skirt tightly.
“And then he left! He always left us! Always! Nothing we did was good enough!” | 12bcbba02c4a48ff930852eb9cdcfa1b | ['617713e0a7624b0ba389a55588cd7845'] | “You’re telling me. Don’t you have something snarky to say about potheads? Gonna call me a _loser_?” His voice was harsh, and his words were harsher. She shook her head.
“No. Chloe might, but not me.”
“Not right now. Wait until Monday when the two of you are thick as thieves and lording over us again. Then you’ll have something to say.”
Brooke sighed.
“Probably.”
“You don’t seem so happy about it,” Michael said, switching from fiddling with his hoodie to messing with his keys.
“Well are you fully, one hundred percent happy with the role you play in life? Do you like being a nobody, being made fun of, being the weirdo?” Thick and accusatory, the question curled around the two of them like mist. He hesitated, his fists clenching around his sleeve on one side and his keys on the other.
“I did like it. Before I had to do it alone.” With that he turned and opened his car door. His headphones sat on the passenger side.
_He must have come out to get his hoodie after he left the party_ , Brooke thought. He picked up his headphones and plugged them in to his phone. Soft twangy reggae gently sounded from them before he placed them against his neck. His face softened slightly. He still looked sad but he looked more… human.
“Get in,” he said, not meeting her eyes as he slid into the driver’s side.
“What?” she asked, instinctively taking a step back. He shook his head.
“Get in. I’ll drive you home. You’re swaying like nobody’s business. I had two beers, hours ago. Come on. It’s safer.”
Brooke looked at the ground, tucking her hair behind her ear and biting her lip. She thought about it, running the idea into the ground in her mind before she nodded, more for her own benefit than his. She locked her car and slipped around the car, getting in next to him. The car was cool, but warmer than outside. She snuggled into her seat, and he glanced over at her.
“Cold?” he asked. She nodded and he reached behind them, grabbing a blanket out of the back and draping it over her. “There you go. She warms up fast, so you should be fine in ten minutes or so. You can turn on the radio if you want.” He carefully backed out and started down the dimly lit streets.
“Wouldn’t it bother you with your headphones on?” she asked. He shook his head.
“I’m not really listening right now. I just like having them… there, if that makes sense.” He didn’t offer any sort of explanation beyond that and she didn’t ask for one. She slipped her phone out of a hidden pocket in her dress and turned it off. She didn’t really want anyone to be able to get to her right now. She was more than happy to just sit there in the dark with him, in the quiet. It felt… nice. And the blanket was warm, and the car rode really gently. She was warm inside, too. Her muscles were loose, relaxed. She hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time.
“Michael…” Her voice was soft now, nervous. Jake’s house disappeared behind them and the anger went with it. She was sad, more than sad. But it wasn’t Michael’s fault. And Jeremy had hurt both of them, from what she could tell.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”
“What was I gonna do, let you get in an accident? No. It’s no biggie.”
“I’m sorry I’m one of them. I’m sorry I’m not… nice, all the time.” She bit back more word vomit, watching him for a reaction. He shrugged.
“It doesn’t bother me any. I like who I am. I don’t want to be anybody else. I mean, I’m awesome. It doesn’t matter if anyone else notices, because I do. I told Jeremy that all the time, not that it mattered.” Michael said. His voice was annoyed and his hands squeezed the wheel a couple times before stilling again. Brooke watched the stars and the roads go by, lazily.
“He didn’t really like me. I thought he did. But he didn’t,” she said, testing the waters. Michael nodded slowly.
“You’re not the only one.” His tone relaxed a little. Brooke reached over hesitantly, then stopped. She had already hugged him. She didn’t want to touch him again. And if she were honest with herself, she really didn’t want to think about Jeremy, and she didn’t wanna think about what he’d done.
“So you called your car a she,” Brooke probed, searching for something that would let her get under the surface and change the subject.
“Yep. Her joke name is Mary Jane but her real name is Reese.”
“After Reese Witherspoon?” she guessed.
“No after Reese’s peanut butter cups.” He said it so matter of factly that she couldn’t help but snicker. He glanced over at her and she followed his eyes to the seatbelt. He was making sure she was buckled.
“Well um… You ever notice that Halloween isn’t really… Halloween-y? Like ever?” she asked instead. Michael laughed, a short, quiet sound that was barely a laugh at all.
“What?” he asked. A small smile played on his lips. Brooke smiled back, heartened that maybe he felt a little better with her like she did with him.
“It’s never right! Like in the movies the air is chilly but warm enough to go in costumes. The sky is grey. The moon is full. When was the last time we had a full moon on Halloween? Never, that’s when.” She talked with her hands a little, trying to make him smile, laugh, something.
“How is it supposed to be grey and have a full moon? If you can see the moon it generally implies that the sky is clear.” He said and gave her a tiny smirk. |
5c6d701496c6412abe4bce356b60717e | ['6184122b11c54b65b886d7248d9d3274'] | “Do you feel a little better?” she asked as she grabbed Mal’s hand and held it with both of hers. Mal’s expression was a mixture of sadness, fright, but now also love.
“Yes, sort of,” she managed to say, her shaky voice breaking Evie’s heart even further.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She shook her head frantically in response. “No. No, I- I want to think about something else, anything else.”
Evie wanted to come up with something to talk about to take her mind off of the dreams but her mind went blank. She thought to herself for a few quick seconds while holding onto Mal’s hand ever so gently.
She leaned in closer and quite unexpectedly her left hand was on Mal’s cheek and their lips were connected for a split second, but even a split second seemed to do the trick. When she pulled away Mal’s expression had shifted completely, a perfect distraction.
She couldn’t help herself. Mal looked so sad but still beautiful, she needed to do whatever she could to make her feel better. She was impressed with herself for actually gathering up the courage to do that.
“...Woah,” was all Mal could make herself say. Partly because she had been rendered quite speechless by the very sudden surprise, but also because she decided it wasn’t enough. She gently grasped the back of Evie’s neck and joined them together once more. She could feel Evie smiling faintly through the kiss and the memories of her dreams were getting foggy.
It had been a long time since Mal had felt that cliche feeling of butterflies in your stomach, but that was definitely the correct way to describe how she was feeling right now. She broke the kiss with a timid laugh, and wiped her cheeks dry with her hand, there would be no more crying tonight, she decided.
She had never kissed Evie before, but she had entertained the idea. Safe to say the reality of it was far more impactful than the daydreams.
“Thank you, E. I think I needed that,” a lie, she knew she needed that.
“Anything for you,” she smiled softly. Evie looked a little nervous, as if she thought she had overstepped some boundary and was now regretting it. “We should both go back to sleep, it’s the middle of the night” Evie sighed and started to move away, but Mal grabbed her arm making her turn her head back.
“Stay with me. Please,” she turned her head like a puppy begging for a treat when she said the last word. Mal was surprised by how desperate she sounded, but she actually didn’t mind coming off as desperate just now.
Evie exhaled, relieved that Mal didn’t think she had been too forward and wanted her to stay with her. “Of course.”
***
Mal was now convinced that the safest place in Auradon had to be in Evie’s arms, with her head resting on her chest and their legs intertwined. This was so much more comfortable than sleeping alone, it was like Evie’s body was custom made to fit perfectly with hers.
“Can I tell you something?” she whispered while tracing patterns on Evie’s shirt, hoping she wasn’t asleep yet.
“Mhm,” she hummed lazily, clearly dozing off.
“I want to lay like this every night. With you. I think it would help me, you know, to get better sleep. And I need that now more than ever with exams coming up and everything.”
Evie giggled, she could tell she made a clear sarcastic attempt to backtrack hoping Evie would catch the hint and maybe get a laugh out of it too. Well, mission accomplished.
She pulled Mal in closer and gave her a quick peck on the forehead. “I think I can manage that.”
Mal smiled and nuzzled into Evie, drifting off into a peaceful sleep completely void of nightmares. | a6a032d57cda4709aba86d13a077bdf8 | ['6184122b11c54b65b886d7248d9d3274'] | Messy
Sofia exhaled when she finally got to close her apartment door behind the two of them. Dove was clinging onto her like she couldn’t stand up by herself, she was not a stranger to exaggerating. She was giggling as Sofia tried to lead her through the halls in the direction of the bedroom.
“You’re not making this easy. You know where to go, you don’t have to hang onto me.”
She willfully ignored that.
“You smell really good,” she said as she stumbled into a chair but barely took note. “Why- uh why did we have to go home anyway? I was having fun.”
“It’s three in the morning. We both need to sleep, princess.”
She scoffed and laughed in response. “Don’t be silly, I want to stay up with you.”
“You’re wasted, and I’m tired.”
She looked up at her with her eyes half closed, her face flushed and a dopey smile across her face. “You don’t look tired, you look beautiful.”
Sofia led her all the way to the bed and got her to sit down on the edge. She moved across the room to change from her evening dress into something she could sleep in.
Halfway through pulling her dress down she turned to Dove who was sitting up in the bed cross legged, not so subtly staring.
“Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
Sofia laughed. “Shush and go to bed.”
“I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked.”
Sofia laughed again, amused but not surprised by her quick wit. “You really have no filter,” she looked over at Dove, sitting on the bed still all dressed up, one of her dress straps falling off her shoulder. She had kicked her heels off somewhere on the way from the door to the bed. “Let me get you something to wear instead of that, give me a second.”
After some searching through her closet she tossed a large blue sweater on the bed, Dove wasted no time getting out of the uncomfortable dress and into Sofia’s shirt. It was long, she could pass it off as a loose dress if she wanted to.
“I might keep this. It smells like you.”
“Sshhh, sleep.” Sofia said as she stepped into a pair of shorts to match her t-shirt.
“What about my makeup.”
“You can handle that on your own, let me rest Chlo,” she thought that maybe if she used the nickname she would listen.
Sofia got in the bed next to her and quickly settled under the covers, exhausted from the busy day and night. Dove was still sitting up, but not making another sound.
She sighed and opened her eyes to look over at her annoying but charming friend. “What do I need to do to get you to sleep?”
Dove looked as if she was deep in thought for a moment. She leaned over on top of Sofia and kissed her, gently but still a bit messily. Sofia responded to it almost out of reflex where she was laying.
Dove opened her eyes slowly and her smile could be described as wicked. “Am I in trouble now?”
This girl was definitely something else. Sofia couldn’t help but smile as well.
“No... I could kiss you all day, honestly. But that has to be a day when you’re sober,” she resisted an urge to add ‘or when I’m equally drunk’. “So get off of me before I get my morals twisted.”
“Boo.” |
16744ab1608d4ed2849f4d6b8ac8adea | ['6186ec72520a413a98d0ab2c0ea4141d'] | So he had stood before the Mauvais Dentes and didn't even _try_ to expel the Wesen from his shop with magic. No, he wouldn't risk this man coming after his friends later, without Harry there to help them, and finish what it started.
But with Monroe's fearful eyes darting between him and the beast, with Nick softly groaning as he regained consciousness Harry couldn't, wouldn't call on his magic in any obvious way.
Not unless he had no other choice.
Because some things scared him far more than this creature in front of him. And revealing to any of them what sort of freak he really was - that was one of them. No, he didn't want to go there. Not with his life here still so painfully fragile.
He didn't think he could deal with the change it would bring between them.
So he trusted his wards, even if the wards on his bakery were not nearly as tightly woven as those on his apartment - _couldn't be_ , because it wouldn't do for a customer (even if they were the sort of hate-filled, blood-stained person stopped by his wards) to be unable to enter. Still, he trusted that he, as the ward-maker would not meet his death to the one who entered his territory to do harm to him and his own – those under his protection.
And he trusted _himself_ , because Harry knew more than just magic – had fought in a war since he was eleven, even if he hadn't fully realised he was fighting back then. And he had known violence and pain even before that, at the hands of Dudley and his gang.
He did not fear either pain or death. Nor did he long for them.
And that made him a difficult opponent to fight.
But his friends were hurt and he had _made a promise_ and he would bloody well keep it.
And that made him _more_ than just a difficult opponent. No, that made him fierce, determined and willing to break every unspoken rule he imposed on himself, because if it came down to it _he would not lose_.
In the end, it hadn't quite gotten that far and his rules remained unbroken.
Blood on his face and legs, bruises on his arms and hips. Scratches and bite-marks but Harry had left his own marks on the one who dared hurt those he cared for; a broken leg, a large bruise on the face, the deep slashes of a bread-knife. But none of that really mattered in the end.
Because it was the bullet-wound that had killed the Mauvais Dentes.
The Grimm.
And Harry was ridiculously grateful to the detective for that - that in _this_ world he was not yet a killer.
Even if there _was_ blood on his shirt.
(Word Count: 600)
11. Concern
"Shit man, I'm so sorry" the wolf-man said and Harry could feel the light tremors going through his friend's body.
The wizard somewhat awkwardly patted his friend on the back. He always hated making people worried. And he never knew what to say to reassure them. "I'm fine, Monroe. It was my choice to help you – and things worked out, didn't they?"
The man didn't answer but Harry felt the huff of breath on his neck as the wolf breathed in his scent.
He allowed the Blutbad this moment, this embrace.
Even though the honest concern for his wellbeing made him feel thoroughly embarrassed and uncomfortable.
And perhaps, just a little bit, _touched_.
Harry cleared his throat awkwardly and the wolf loosened his hold on him. "Tea, then?"
For a moment it looked as if Monroe would protest, say something more. But thankfully he didn't. "Yeah, that's fine."
Harry pretended not to notice that, before letting go, the man's arms tightened around him for a just a few heartbeats.
In turn, Monroe was kind enough not to comment on the fact that Harry led him up the stairs - to his _home_ \- instead of a table in the bakery.
(Word Count: 200)
12. Secrets
This time the police captain did not even try for subtle. He had walked right up to the door of Harry's closed bakery and stared at the wizard inside – demanding entrance.
And Harry had figured that it was best to get this – whatever this was – over with. Because he could tell that that man had more than just confidence. He had power.
So he let Captain Renard into his bakery and, not one to break the rules of politeness even despite his slight annoyance, gracefully led the man to a comfortable chair with its back to the wall – because this man had come to see him on _his_ home-ground and deserved a cordial advantage for that despite the suddenness of his visit.
Neither man spoke until Harry had finished getting them both drinks. He had remembered that the man had ordered a Macchiato on his first visit and – though he never much cared for any variety of coffee – out of a polite deference to put them on equal standing, he had made the same for himself. He sipped the hot beverage as he waited for the man to speak.
He did not have to wait long.
"You fought a Mauvais Dentes… with a bread-knife."
Harry nodded. "Did Detective Burkhardt tell you about that?"
The man's voice was hard; "He does not know what I am."
The wizard was genuinely surprised. True, _he_ did not know what the man was either – but he knew that Sean Renard was _something_. He had assumed that Nick knew at least that much, if not more, himself. This man was his boss, after all. | 438cea9d85e14e6299d781ab42f2f23b | ['6186ec72520a413a98d0ab2c0ea4141d'] | He looked from Estel to Lord Elrond and then to Lord Glorfindel beside him. "You are saying…" Harry started uncertainly, glancing between all occupants of the room once more before finally resting his eyes on Estel's Ada. "I could be given a name too?"
… Estel had had a new beginning here too.
* * *
In the silence that followed his uncertain question Harry dropped his gazed quickly back to his shell and turned the thought over in his head. On one hand it made sense; he wasn't exactly Harry Potter anymore, even though he still had his scar… just starting over in this new world, with a new name… it was both tempting and frightening. He had already lost _everything_ when he was suddenly thrust into this new world, not even as himself but as a child and an elf. Now that he _did_ have a choice, could he really make the decision to lose his name as well?
"…if that is what you wish, yes we could give you a name." Lord Elrond's thoughtful voice broke through his hazy thoughts.
Harry glanced back up at these words, studying the elf lord seated calmly in the chair. He still wasn't completely sure what to make of this… if he let them give him a name, what would that mean? Would that mean he would have to stay here? He didn't know anything about these elves and their habits, culture and history. Just like when he was first thrown head-first into the wizarding world he once again found himself uncertain of exactly what was considered 'strange' or 'normal' here. But _this_ time, Harry was far less willing to bumble along.
He turned to Estel, the only human and the only really familiar person there and directed his question to him. "But what would that mean?"
"What do you mean, little one?" Estel asked, with a look of slight puzzlement.
Harry frowned in slight annoyance, his uncertainty falling away in the face of new determination; "If they give me a name, would that mean that this is my home now?"
Estel's grey eyes seemed to search his own, both of them ignoring the two elven lords completely. Harry felt like fidgeting under that weighing gaze, unsure why his friend was looking at him like that. It wasn't that strange a question, was it?
"Little one," Estel finally answered, his voice taking on a quality that he had occasionally noticed before when Estel spoke; a soft strength, gentle but determined. "it is not by words or even a name that a place becomes a home. Still I hope that with time Imladris will become a home to you as much as it has become one for me."
This time it was Harry's eyes that attempted to uncover the very soul of each recipient. After a moment of judging Estel's sincerity, his piercing gaze rested on Lord Glorfindel, where he was still kneeling patiently beside him, for a long, silent moment before it finally reached the Lord of Imladris.
Finally, the tension eased from his form and Harry relaxed.
He couldn't be absolutely sure, but these people had been honest and patient with him so far and their eyes seemed kind, concerned and sincere. He was still a bit unsure about this, but he wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing; jumping into unknown situations was kind of his thing. At least this time it didn't seem too dangerous.
"I would like to have a name." He said softly. A _new_ name, but there was no reason to add that and stir their curiosity anew. He didn't really feel like 'Harry Potter' anymore anyway. Maybe he never truly had. 'Harry Potter' was a wizarding hero. 'Harry' was a boy unwanted by his family and later on a teenage wizard who actually had friends and played on the Quidditch team. Neither of those were who he was now.
The two elves sat silently for a long moment while Estel gave him a gentle, reassuring smile. It was Lord Elrond who spoke, a long, thoughtful moment later. "Very well."
For a few heartbeats the elven lord seemed lost in his own thoughts, his face becoming serious before his mind seemed to return to Harry, who was nervously fidgeting in his place, and his ancient eyes lost their grave look. His mood seemed to shift back to a more light-hearted one as their eyes met and the elf-lord's face regained a warm smile. "Than I give you the name of Ellas"
'Ellas…' it sounded kind of strange to him but he supposed it was better than going by 'child' or 'little one' for the rest of his time here. He gave the elves a small smile. It would do.
"A good name." Lord Glorfindel approved with a slight smile of his own, giving the hand he still held a gentle squeeze of encouragement, before finally releasing it.
"Ellas." Estel repeated the name softly with a warm smile on his lips that Harry couldn't help but return, the uncertainty now falling away completely. It was strange how having his friend use his new name made him feel warm and welcomed. Despite the fact that he had been unsure about whether or not he wanted a new name at first, now there was suddenly no more hesitation. He walked back to the bed and settled down beside Estel again, a happiness that originated from the childish, elven part him quietly soaring through his soul.
He had a new name, an elvish name, given to him by Estel's Ada.
And, like Estel, he would keep his own name, his real name, close to his heart.
He didn't want to lose it, after all.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> AN: Thanks to Demkat of FF.net for beta-ing this chapter. :)
19. In the Care of the Elves |
7aefc4d69c0a4392b7edf28ae367bf30 | ['61d46dddee064620b1add3b9d0295ce2'] | He was 16 when he joined the hero course. Since he hadn’t been in heroics before the sports festival, the principal decided it would be best for his father to catch him up and join at the start of the next semester after summer break. Those weeks were full of general ed coursework at school and hero studies at home. It was tough, but Hitoshi didn’t care. He was finally going to be a hero. His summer studies were temporarily interrupted when one of his father’s students, the explosive one from the sports festival, had been kidnapped during the hero class’s training camp. The student had been saved (with the help of some of his father’s class, he’d heard), but the incident had consequences. The number one hero, All Might, retired and students were moved into dorms. Once he was officially transferred to the hero department, Hitoshi moved into the dorms as well. He worked on his quirk during classes and worked on his body with explodoboy, Bakugou Katsuki. If you’d asked Hitoshi if he’d ever be friends with the human firecracker before he moved to heroics, he would have told you never in a million years. A few weeks after moving into the dorms, though, Hitoshi had caught Bakugou signing to his mother over skype, and he’d never felt so stupid. _‘Why don’t you just ask my dad and uncle to sign during class?’_ Hitoshi asked him the next day. Though he was already friendly toward the rest of his class, Hitoshi would say that was the moment he made his first good friend.
He was 17 during his last UA sports festival. He had originally been worried he wouldn’t get far during his final year since everyone knew how his quirk worked, but he trained long hours for weeks beforehand to improve himself. He hadn’t told anyone, other than his training buddy Bakugou, that he’d figured out how to use his quirk without using his voice. He made it all the way to the final round before his classmates realized he was somehow using his quirk without getting them to speak. He came in second place that year, losing to Bakugou who knew the secret to his newfound ability was eye contact. His friend had fought him without even looking at him.
At 18 Hitoshi was named one of UA’s most promising students. He could barely believe how far he’d come in the past two years. He hadn’t been able to pass the entrance exam, and now he was receiving offers from almost every hero agency. He had helped save a little girl during his internship, and she told him he was her number one hero. _'Your quirk is like mine!',_ she signed.
He was still 18 when he graduated from UA. He’d accepted a job with his father’s old agency, who were eager to have him. It wasn’t the most glamorous job, but he wasn’t a hero for the prestige. Hitoshi had always wanted to be a hero like his father, and now he really was.
Hitoshi was 19 when the group of villains he’d been tracking turned out to be smarter than they appeared. Hitoshi didn’t know how long they knew he’d been following them, but by how prepared they were he’d guess at least a week.
Hitoshi was 19 when he was surrounded by villains, smart enough to know to avoid eye contact.
Hitoshi was 19 when he wished he’d let his father tag along with him.
-
Aizawa Shouta was 39 when he walked into the church wearing his best suit, arm-in-arm with his husband. The church was full. Hundreds of people filled the pews, all dressed in their best. The purple flowers stood out amongst the sea of black, their brightness bringing tears back to his eyes. It seemed almost cruel how they were so full of life despite being cut off from their roots.
He was 39 when he cursed the sun for shining so brightly. The weather was perfect, not a drop of rain to be found or a bit of chill to be felt. The grass beneath his feet had the nerve to be the boldest green he’d ever seen. He felt an arm curl around his shoulders and leaned into the touch, barely registering that someone was speaking.
He was 39 when he stayed behind as the crowd dwindled away. It didn’t take long for him to be alone, no one wanted to linger in a place like this. Except for the staff, the only other person he could see was his husband. Not that he could see with the tears filling his eyes, but he would recognize that long blonde hair anywhere. He clung tightly to the man and finally let the tears free.
He was 39 when he said goodbye to his son for the last time. | 06a16b1403894339a9824b9d42eb189e | ['61d46dddee064620b1add3b9d0295ce2'] |
Forget Me Not
**Author's Note:**
> Sorry if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes. Please let me know if you catch anything that needs fixed!
Hitoshi’s little brother is only a few months old when the young family is taking a walk through a park that evening, and it's kinda chilly. The baby starts fussing just as Shinsou wants to start playing on the swings.
"It's too cold for your brother to be out here, Hitoshi" his mom says. "We need to go back home now." But Hitoshi doesn't want to go home.
"But mom, dad I don't want to go home!" he cries
"Hitoshi-" "please son-" his parents start replying.
"Forget about him and pay attention to me!" he cries. And they do. They let Hitoshi play on the playground for hours, the baby in the stroller left forgotten. Hitoshi was having so much fun with his parents that he also forgot about the baby, until they had reached home.
"Mom, where's my brother?" he asks.
"What brother?" his mom says, as she straightened up his shirt.
Hitoshi realizes something is wrong, but he doesn't know what it is. Confused, he starts hitting his parents the way any other four-year-old would. That's when his parents remember, and they panic. His mom pulls out the phone to call the police and his dad races off to the park. 'It's so cold out' they say. Hitoshi is worried, he still loves his brother.
His dad comes back 30 minutes later to take Hitoshi and his mom to the hospital. The baby is alive, but they want to check him out after being alone for so long in the cold. It seems like he's doing all right, the doctor says, they've just got to keep him warm.
Hitoshi wants to go hold his baby brother, but his parents keep him away. After they talk with the police, Hitsohi is pulled away to talk with them too.
"Do you know what happened?" they ask him. Hitoshi tells them they were just playing at the park, that he didn't think his parents would take him seriously when he told them to forget his brother.
"I just wanted to play" he said.
Hitoshi's family spends the night at the hospital, but his parents won’t look at him. They won't even let him into the room with his brother, shoving him off on the nursing staff instead. The next morning a woman in a suit comes to talk to them.
"It's not unusual for parents to be unequipped to deal with their children's quirks," she tells his parents as he listens through the door. "Sometimes what's best for everyone is what's hardest."
The lady comes and talks to him, telling him that she's going to be his new friend. Hitoshi doesn't quite understand why she's leading him away from his parents, but they told him to go with her so he does. They stop by his house and grab some clothes and toys before heading to a strange building.
"It's a place for other children with hard to control quirks," she tells him. "It's kind of like a school, only you get to have sleepovers every night." Hitoshi liked school, so he was excited. Only he soon found out it wasn't like any school he'd been in.
Hitoshi had never had such a strict curfew in his short four years of life. He'd never been so lonely either. He wasn't allowed to talk, and any time he did he'd be punished. Some kids had these weird cuffs taped over their hands, one kid had their eyes covered.
"He's not allowed to take the glasses off," one of his classmates told Hitoshi when he caught him staring. "If he does he makes things explode."
Hitoshi listens to the other kids as they talk about getting out. Apparently there's a test every so many months, and if a you pass you're allowed to leave. There are others who get out without passing, but those are children who were adopted by parents with quirks who could handle theirs. Hitoshi doesn't really know what that all means, he just wants to go home and play with his baby brother.
A few months pass before a tired looking man comes to visit him.
"You must be Hitoshi," he says, kneeling down to his eye level. Hitoshi nods.
"A friend told me about you. I'm sorry about what happened." Hitoshi shrugs, not knowing how to respond.
"It's okay for you to talk to me, you know," the man whispers.
"They told me I'm not allowed to talk," Hitoshi responds quietly, "They say I hurt people when I talk."
The man before him frowns before reaching over to touch Hitoshi gently on his arm.
"Don't listen to them," he says. "You won't hurt anyone." Hitoshi hopes that could be true.
"How about we get you out of here and you come live with me and my friend? We'll make sure to keep an eye on you." Hitoshi nods. He doesn't know what else to say.
So they leave the room and the man takes him to the front, talking to the women at the desk. There's some talk of paperwork, and a few minutes of the man signing things when one of the women walks over to him and says "Good luck with your new family. I hope I don't have to see you back here."
_New Family?_ Hitoshi wonders as he follows the man out to his car. |
01e1b9e8978948f7951653560157c035 | ['6204f11c78714171a82ea13ecb531aa0'] | Destiny
Bodies in varying number lay strewn, a vital organ missing from each one. At the end of the trail, a figure, hunched, shaking and shuddering stood. Ambers drawn directly toward the floor, desperation and sorrow tainting the very depths. At intervals he would glance at his hands — hands which held the demise of many; caked in crimson. Yet none of this— None of what happened was meant to be.
He had truly chosen the wrong time to wake up.
_Tap_ , _tmp_ —
"I..— I _gues-s_ this is ..it..?" A shiver trails up his spine; unwilling to look at the one who is only just a few paces away.
Her face is a picture, one that depicts utter despair at the carnage witnessed. Cheeks are red, sore; tears streaming without care. And yet she knows. She knows who he is. And what he’s done. But it was never his fault. Any of it. And that was why it was so tragic.
" _Terra_ — **I**.."
He attempts to laugh but chokes mildly on pooled saliva in the process. Not out of humour, but out of a pure, sweet, sorrow. He knows his fate, and what is to come. But it’s so, so scary. And he’s not sure if he’s ready to face it just yet.
"A.. _qua_. ..It’s o- **okay**."
She too, _knows_. It is her duty as a Master to restore the balance. A task she’s accepted ever since the role was given. But this— This was never part of the contract. To strike down the one she’s affectionately called brother. The one she loves; sacrificed herself for and grew up with. Both of them know this. It was horrific to finally reunite after eleven years, and unknowingly come to this conclusion.
"I-I don.t w-want to **die** by-y anyone’s hands.. o-other tha-n **yours**.”
”No..”
Despite efforts to retain composure, it all went to waste.
Distance is closed, her shuddering frame encasing arms around the cloaked male; staying fear at her most vulnerable of moments. Digits dig into obsidian velvet, clawing, almost. She doesn’t want to say goodbye, not yet.
He dips head into her shoulder, refusing to look outward. A few more words are mumbled, only barely audible.
"P-Please j- _just_. — T- **Tell me** , t-that eve- _rything_ is go-ing t-to be ..a- **alright**.."
”It’s going to be fine. Don’t worry.”
A hand is dropped. Blade hand, to be specific. Brilliant light took to the very palm of her hand, melding and forming into key form.
"— _Promise_ …?"
A blade is raised, poised. Tremors course through her wrist.
” **I Promise**.”
A once pristine floor became a canvas for scarlet. | 519134ca0ae946338740bb0b055659bd | ['6204f11c78714171a82ea13ecb531aa0'] | Divergence
Golden walls stretch for miles, separated into compartments. The interior is fairly basic, varied rooms containing tools for living life on a ship. Of course, a Prospitan ship isn't your ordinary ship and certainly not the sailing kind you've heard about. But after having nearly two years on one at this point, you're rather used to the space around you.
In the midst of the middle deck is a wide hall-like space. Empty. But perfect for an event such as this.
In honesty you haven't been feeling your best lately. Certain issues have arisen between you and another individual, making contact between you sparse. The last time you both talked was a few days before -- of which they had asked you for temporary space until this date set. You complied, assured him that it was alright. Yet as you walk down the gold-lined stairs into the depths of the ship, your stomach turns; fingers lacing together as an idle distraction from the oncoming encounter.
However it's not long before you arrive, finding that the wide doors are already open, granting a quick entrance. You swallow hard, pushing any imminent fears to the back of your mind. Assuring yourself that the act you are about to partake in is fairly simple, despite having not done anything of the sort before. -- You chose a certain attire for today, velvet lined with an array of various constellations trapped in emerald and ebony. A dress you kept only for special occasions. The elongated part drapes across the floor in a veil type fashion, the specks of stardust twinkling as you move.
Up until this point your gaze was downward, taken by the paved gold.
Jade irises pan upward, meeting with a body formed of amber hues. Feathered wings lay upon his back, opened wide in a grandiose manner. The remnants of bandages lay around his waist, his body from that point twisting and curling into an undefinable trail that lead on. Atrous coloured shades veil eyes from normal view, a necessity.
You smile, as does he after a short moment. It's been awhile since you've both seen each other and you're not afraid to admit that you've missed him during the brief absence. Despite this, the uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach continues on. A certain bittersweet feeling hanging in the air that stands the distance between you.
JADE: hi davesprite
JADE: its been awhile huh
DAVESPRITE: yes
DAVESPRITE: it has been
DAVESPRITE: im sorry to have kept you waiting
JADE: no its okay
JADE: really!
JADE: dont worry about it
DAVESPRITE: look jade theres something i need to say
JADE: wait
JADE: just a moment
JADE: please
Without uttering a further word, a single hand is raised skywards -- as means to interrupt Davesprite from continuing. An emerald hue surrounds your fingers and quickly encircles your body; jade optics glinting. The overhead lights turn off one by one, till the room falls into darkness. You've been practicing this every day without fail, as to not make a mistake. Since the last time you spoke and even before that, you couldn't help but feel things weren't working out in the best possible way. Reading minds certainly wasn't a specialty of yours, but you knew well enough that the one before you was facing various internal conflict regarding his being.
But before your last conversation had ended, a request was made; entailed with a promise to do so. A simple dance would be shared together. Often you had both joked about it in the past as neither of you had done it before. And so it made this moment so much more meaningful, devoid of any humor.
What soon followed was a spectrum of lights, emerald stars floating upwards into the empty space; akin to that of her dress but on a wider scale. Continuously the small orbs containing astral essence would fill the air for so as long as she kept her hand skyward. Shadows of different shades of green danced around the room, both sets of eyes remained fixated on each other. Eventually you lower you arm, task fulfilled. A heated flush fills your cheeks as you stand there, millions of hues twirling and fluttering aside the both of you.
JADE: we promised
JADE: right
He remains silent for a moment, before the curve of a smile trawls across his lips accompanied by a cock of the head. Without speaking he floats towards you, not guided by wings -- but effortlessly floating through the air. You offer a hesitant hand outwards, of which his own amber one slips into the embrace of yours, fingers intertwining with each other. You find yourself a bit clueless of what to do with your free hand, as it seemed rather odd to follow suit with both hands. Or at least to your knowledge that is.
The distance between you narrows, noses almost to the point of touching. Except instead he would press his forehead against yours, cool to the touch. This furthers the growing blush against your cheeks and you let slip a stray giggle. His own nervous feelings are evident against his features too, a darker coloured hue settling against his nose. -- Something which remained no matter how hard he tried to keep intentions, serious. You are both clearly new to this game.
DAVESPRITE: yeah
DAVESPRITE: we sure did
He spoke in return, words no higher than a whisper.
**Author's Note:**
> End of the first chapter! Alright, so essentially this is pretty much my take on the events of the breakup between Jade & Davesprite. I was heavily inspired by the artwork done by the wonderful justafewsmallsteps @ Tumblr! and putting it into words was definitely something I've really enjoyed. |
7b70958d0f7e445fb39597d7dc2f1930 | ['6207566c5144481da55d0c3b00e409ef'] | She grabbed Ecthelion’s hand as she led them to the newest arrival in their home.
“Oh, he is precious! He has blue hair and blonde eyes, no, I mean blue eyes and blonde hair,” giggled Lothluin. “Did you hear what I said Adator?” She continued to giggle. “He is so very small, with little hands, and little feet, and a wrinkly face! Nana said that he is big, but he looks tiny to me, I think she is silly, don’t you? Oh, well, wait and you will see…” Lothluin babbled constantly the whole way through the halls until they reached their destination. “Oh and Ada says that he is my Uncle! But he cannot be, can he, because he is too small? Everyone knows that only grownups can be aunts or uncles…sometimes I think my Ada is silly too!”
Erestor smiled and nodded while Ecthelion tried desperately not to laugh at her enthusiasm. “Nana sent me to get you; she said you wanted to be there, and that only I could get you! Isn’t that wonderful, Adator?”
“That is because you are so dependable and smart.” Erestor told her to which she beamed with happiness and smiled wide.
Outside of Lothwen and Glorfindel’s chambers, stood a smiling Elrond, Melpomaen, Fauniel, and Eirien: “Come here, Lothluin,” Eirien gestured with open arms.
“I brought them, I told you I would.” Lothluin beamed happily as she went to her great-grandmother’s open embrace.
“I never doubted your skills,” Eirien smiled fondly as she kissed the top of Lothluin’s head. Since moving to New Imladris with Erestor a month after he asked her too, Eirien soon found a place in all the hearts of the residents there.
Eirien was a gentle, loving soul, always giving; deeply in love with her grandchildren, and they with her. Lothluin, especially, grew attached to her and the two were nigh inseparable companions. Their days were spent with lessons on gardening, baking, sewing and painting. Eirien fond she had an almost intrinsic ability to paint. She spent much time on the porches or in the gardens, exploring her artistic side- something that she never thought she could do when she lived with her controlling husband.
Erestor stopped at the doorway. “How is Lothwen?” His concern showed in his voice.
“Tired but sound,” smiled Elrond, adding, “go in, she is asking for you.”
Releasing a large sigh, Erestor gently knocked upon the open doorway. A twinge of melancholy hit him as he espied the happy family within the large bed. Glorfindel sat beside Lothwen who had the babe in her arms, cooing softly to him. It seemed both long ago and yesterday that she held Melpomaen much the same way. Glorfindel smiled wide at him and gestured for Erestor to come closer.
Erestor half bowed. “Congratulations my friends,” he nodded as Lothwen smiled brightly.
“How are you fairing?” He quietly asked with true concern.
“Tired but well, please, come closer.” She held out her precious bundle for him to hold. He hesitated but a moment, and then gently took the babe in his arms.
He gazed at the life before him in wonderment. So small and fragile, yet so utterly captivating. He found himself mesmerized by the tiny facial movements and the delightful little grunts only a newborn could make. He found himself nudging the utterly soft little tufts of hair with his nose; taking in the sweet scent of him. He was in awe once more at the fragile life before him. “He is so beautiful.”
Lothwen began to cry silently at the way Erestor handled her child with such tenderness and love. She couldn’t help but feel melancholy for the time when he first held Melpomaen as a babe. Feeling the same, he caught her eyes and smiled. He then gently handed the infant to his father. He grasped Glorfindel’s shoulder, “take care of them, my friend.” He leaned down and kissed the now sleeping Lothwen.
Returning to the hall, Ecthelion was all that remained there in waiting. Erestor’s eyes questioned the disappearance of the others. “They went for a much needed meal. Would you like to join them?”
“No, I think not.” Erestor sighed slowly.
“Come; let us take a ride, hmnn?” Ecthelion urged Erestor towards the stairs that led out of the main house. Erestor nodded in agreement and took his lover’s hand.
They rode for at least an hour, the wind rushing through their hair taking troubles with it as it wisped behind them sharply. The countryside was a mottle of trees and cottages along the impromptu road that led towards a small village of independent fishermen, who used the river’s bounty and lived upon its edges. Slowing, they trotted near a ford in the river and dismounted to allow their horses to drink. They looked around and seeing a fallen tree, headed to it for a makeshift seat. They were slightly out of breath and their faces pink from the wind as Erestor sank heavily upon their improvised bench. Ecthelion sat with a loud whoosh and smiled. Erestor closed his eyes and breathed deep of the moist air. Feeling his hair being smoothed, he opened his eyes to see such a look of love in Ecthelion’s green eyes, that a shiver befell him.
That same hand traced along his cheek and jaw, the long fingers deceptively tender. “So beautiful,” Ecthelion spoke reverently as he replaced his fingers with soft full lips. Erestor let out a genuine sigh to Ecthelion’s delight. Lips brushed his at first ever lightly, with Erestor seeking harder contact. Smiling, Ecthelion pulled back to watch the pouting mouth before him; a mouth of which delights he knew of well. Erestor grabbed his lover’s hair pulling him in for a searing kiss of dueling tongues. Ecthelion fell forward onto his knees which grew weak from such a scorching kiss. His hands searched downwards until they found the ties to Erestor’s pants to which he pulled vigorously, loosening them easily. Without a thought, Ecthelion’s hands released its prize, Erestor’s full and slickened erection. Erestor groaned and that sent Ecthelion’s heart racing and he bent down and took Erestor’s cock full in his mouth. Crying out, Erestor grabbed handfuls of hair as Ecthelion’s skilled tongue went to work. He left not one inch of Erestor’s cock un-licked, kissed or sucked upon. He then took him full in his mouth once more, sucked hard and in twirling his tongue in the slit upon the impossibly hard cock before him, found himself swallowing hard to drink of all that was spilt upon his tongue after his lover stiffened and came crying out his name over and over. Small waves of ecstasy shuddered through Erestor until he fell limp onto the ground, Ecthelion licking his lips and smiling wide above him. Unable to speak and chest heaving from his orgasm, Erestor grabbed at Ecthelion’s pants, to which Ecthelion quickly undid them freeing his hardened cock for Erestor to see. Erestor smiled into Ecthelion’s eyes wickedly, “touch yourself, and come on me.”
Ecthelion groaned loudly as his cocked jerked at those words, “watch me.”
“Oh, my eyes shall not be averted,” teased Erestor as he sat upon his elbows to get a better look.
Ecthelion began to pleasure himself slowly but could not do so without jerking wildly about. His hand stroked fast and hard, until his body tightened and he yelled out as he came in hard bursts upon Erestor’s chest, lap and legs. He collapsed to his side, with Erestor kissing him softly and stroking his face sweetly. “Thank you love,” he kissed him some more before they cleaned themselves by the water and walked hand in hand to get their horses.
As they rode back to New Imladris just before sunset, Erestor looked upon his home and smiled. He was happy and could ask for nothing more.
The End | d9da5596875f4a8685c0e11952b1bde7 | ['6207566c5144481da55d0c3b00e409ef'] |
Early to Bed
**Author's Note:**
> Sequel to Early Birds.
> Inspired by the beautiful artwork of Nemesi.
All my long life I have been both scorned and admired. It is quite a conundrum for one in my position. They look at me with lust and disdain in the same glance. It has been that way since I first came into my adulthood. Continuously was I being compared to a maiden’s beauty, which made me furious. It gave me a temper. All this I heard from afar, for none would dare say it to my face. Though I am small in height, never was I small in stature. I never had a suitor, for none would approach me. So I turned to books early on. I excelled in all my studies. I quickly became a master of lore and tactics, proving my worth within the High King’s Council. That is where I met the one to become my first true friend, and my future lord, Elrond Peredhil.
I was there for the founding of Imladris in its entire splendor and although it is a haven for those in need, my needs oft were put aside. Though I love my lord and scarce other faithful Elves, I am lonely... I am a hard taskmaster; this is the truest of all rumors spread about me. Arrogant? Perhaps. Rude? This I could not deny completely. However, faithfulness and loyalty are my lifeblood.
The day he rode into Imladris, in all his reborn glory, I was smitten. His aura shone bright from within, and his countenance rivaled the beauty of the sun itself. I found myself saddened by this day, for I knew he would never be mine. None ever were mine, especially not one of his beauty and renown. Inwardly, I cried for what would never come to pass. Little did I know.
He came to me one night in the library as I was dousing the candles therein. My heart pounded, though outwardly I remained as always. He needed a friend as well, for it seems when one is renown as a hero, the price is oft loneliness. His tale preceded him wherever he went- Far bigger than the Elf drowning within it. That night we shared tales and it was the beginning of our friendship and love.
I found that I wanted to always be near him. His mere presence intoxicated me to the point of saturation. Thankfully that point never came, for I always sought out more of him. It was never enough. We walked often and long in our lord’s gardens, where we could be found holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes. We became inseparable; we were of one mind housed in two separate bodies.
They think that I cannot hear the whispers as I walk past. I am Chief Counselor for the keenness of my mind …and ears. They say that I bewitched Glorfindel, that I used the sway of my hips, and the length of my hair to enchant him. Well if that is true, then let me be guilty. Elves, like men, can be heartless and blind. Immortality has its price, and it is oft paid in apathy, gossip and arrogance.
Not all were as the majority, for with our lord and a small few we had true friendships. They were present when we wed that late spring day, and they are still true to this day. We cherish them, for each of them is a treasure.
Enough of all of that… let me tell of my love. I love his smell, whether he is fresh from the bath or straight off the training fields. He laughs when he senses this,
and as he draws me to him for a tender hug, I inhale his scent all the more!
I love to walk on his arm, for I am proud for all to see. He is my light and my life, my lover, my confidant and my closest friend. I would wait a thousand lifetimes of loneliness if I knew that he would be the prize at the end of the journey.
We always retire to our rooms after the evening meal, only ever changing the routine to walk within the gardens first. I am embarrassed to say that I feel worshiped by him, for every night before we lay to take our sleep, he pays homage to our love.
This night on the eve of our wedding anniversary, we decided against our nightly walk and headed straight to our rooms instead. With comfortable ease, we went about our routines. I, sitting upon the edge of our bed, began to unravel my braids as he disappeared into the bathing room. As I finished the task at hand, he returned, in all his naked glory. With hooded eyes I watched him walk towards me. He knew I was watching and made a show of it. My eyes devoured every inch of his warrior physique as he walked toward me, straight and tall. My breath hitched upon gazing on perfection in Elven form. Broad shoulders from wielding a sword lent to a flat, muscular abdomen, slim hips, muscled thighs and calves and I licked my lips at the not- so- little warrior standing proudly at attention as he went on his knees before me. “You are staring,” he teased.
“Yes,” was my breathless reply.
He smirked and took my slippered foot in his hand. Ever slowly he got down on one knee and while taking off the first slipper, he ran callused hands over my foot, gently massaging. He continued this massage of my calf, and further upwards whilst shoving my robes up in the process to bunch around my hips. Looking up into my eyes his gaze took my breath away, for his gaze was filled with lust, want, need and love. I shivered as he spoke low. “Erestor, please, lower your robes off your shoulders for me.” I did as he commanded.
I whimpered as I saw his arousal jump at the exposure of my skin to his lustful gaze. Smiling, he continued his devotion to me. His hands ghosted over my thigh, down my calves as his one hand held my ankle, whilst the other took off the final slipper. Letting the slipper fall to the floor before him he took my slender foot and held it to his lips in reverence. He placed butterfly kisses along the top of my pointing foot. His pink tongue showed itself as he licked at my toes, the feeling moving my own awakened arousal to new heights. “Glorfindel,” I moaned to his growl.
Ever gently he lowered my foot, as still on his knees this honored warrior of old crawled to me. I gasped as he slid his large hands up my thighs, caressing with extreme gentleness for one used to the roughness of the training yards. Kneeling now before my thighs, he placed kisses along my chest. His tongue laving here and there, occasionally latching onto a hardened nipple as I cradled his golden head to my breast, his hands lifting my thighs to spread open and up. Kissing down my belly, he left my robes of state on to pool at my waist. Though he was totally naked, I felt devilishly wanton and quite wicked, being half-clothed.
My need burst from its hiding place and if possible his eyes became even darker in their lust. “Erestor,” he purred and put me in his mouth. I cried out and grabbed fistfuls of his golden mane, my legs wrapping tightly around his waist. He licked, and suckled and drank his fill of me, as I became a muddled mass upon our marriage bed. Thoughts no longer mattered, only feeling. His mouth was a gift, and his fingers pressing ever inward to stoke up my fire within, were a reward for my devotion. My own beginning need spent, he brought me closer to his burgeoning elfhood by the will of his hands upon my hips.
Slowly he pressed forward, and I granted him access to that which he so desired. Fully sheathed, he stopped and stared into my eyes. I smile, for he always does this once he is inside of my velvet walls. Taking a shuddering breath, he began to move and I met him thrust for thrust, my head thrown back in passion, the arch of my back driving him deeper still. One hand held me fast as the other roamed my writhing body. When by chance his fingers past my lips, I sucked them into my wanting mouth, to his cry of delight. He crawled onto the bed, never missing a thrust, so that he can lay his bulk atop of mine. His muscled biceps keep the full of his weight from crushing me. I turned my head to lick said muscles as his hands grab my cheeks and he roughly pounds into me. I am always amazed at the strength of his thrusts and how my body constantly accepts all that he has to give.
I held onto his straining biceps for dear life as our mouths crushed together in a breathless kiss of love and desire. I could feel his heartbeat speed up upon my fevered skin as his breathing sounded hitched and his moaning began. My need was pressed by sweet friction between our dancing bodies and I cried out once more, his name upon my lips. I watched his face; his eyes pressed closed, his mouth open and his breathing labored as he stiffens with his impending release, sweat dripping off of his brow. He curved his back as he spoke my name into the air over and over. “Er…es…torrr.”
I pulled him to me and he lies panting and sweaty upon my breast as I stroke his sweat soaked hair. “You face is ever beautiful in the height of your desire,” I whispered as I held him close, “It stirs my soul.” I felt his smile against my skin and soon his breathing evened out and he succumbed to sleep. “Sleep well, my love,” I told him as I kissed his golden tresses. “For tomorrow we shall arise early once more.”
The End
**Author's Note:**
> Beta: Jaiden_s Thank you! |
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