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168963a1957e44cc909633ac1a59d515 | ['62215ee456584ff9bce17045def42736'] |
1. Stiles 2.0
_Okay_ , so maybe Stiles shouldn't have done a spell like this by himself without asking Deaton first.
He should have known it would go wrong.
But he was only trying to be some kind of help to the pack.
To them he was just a liability. A weak human that was constantly needing to be saved. Funnily enough they didn't seem to remember the times he'd saved them and not gotten one single thanks.
It was just his luck that when he tried to do a spell to be stronger (not that he was weak but he certainly wasn't as strong as a werewolf) it backfired and now he was passed out on the floor of his bedroom all alone; the sheriff at work, Scott forever with Allison... changing from human to... something else.
•••
Stiles woke to his alarm ringing loudly but then it was followed by the sound of it crashing violently against the wall and shattering.
Stiles jumped up fully aware and in an attack pose, only to realise that _he_ was the one who'd thrown it.
"Uhh...?"
He said intelligently, to nobody in particular.
Stiles thought about this for a moment and began to recall last nights events.
_Ha! It must of worked!_
Brushing the thought aside, Stiles remembered it was the first day at school as a junior and he needed to get going before he was late.
He couldn't afford that, with him already coming home late from pack meetings to see his dad waiting for him with a stern look on his face.
He decided he would work on what was going on with him, whatever that may be, after school.
Stiles had changed over the months after the attack of the Alpha pack. He was less lanky and he had built up his body well with strict training, and his fashion sense seemed to improve also, thanks to Lydia.
He got dressed into his grey t-shirt that he had grown into, it stretching tight around his torso and biceps.
He slipped on his black skinny jeans and his converse.
Looking in the mirror, he decided he looked quite good, if he didn't say so himself.
Stiles grabbed his bag, an apple and his keys to his newly bought motorbike, which he saved up for after his Jeep had sadly broken down. It still hurt to think about.
He hopped on his bike and made his way to school, thinking of all the stakeouts that occurred in Roscoe.
2. Unveiled
Stiles pulled up at the school and as soon as he took his helmet off, he could hear Lydia.
"Who are you and what have you done to Stiles?"
You see, Stiles didn't really see anyone over the holidays so, it was his first time seeing everyone in this new style of his.
Jackson growled from beside her, but Lydia quickly silenced him with a slap to his arm.
It surprised Stiles a bit by what she said but he was all to pleased with her reaction.
"Nice ride, Stilinski",
Jackson mumbled.
"Thanks,"
Stiles hopped off his bike and headed to his locker, Lydia and Jackson following after him like obedient little puppies. Not that Lydia was a puppy (by god he could feel his testicles ache from just thinking of what she'd do if she heard someone say that). She was more a lion, in the body of a kitten.
He felt himself flush when he noticed Danny gaping at him as he walked by.
He made it to his locker where _ScottandAllison_ were, at Scott's locker.
When he got closer, Allison looked up and her eyes widened at Stiles.
Scott noticed and turned around to see Stiles.
"Woah. Stiles, where have you been hiding those shoulders?"
Stiles was appropriately shocked.
"Uhh... under my layers?"
He offered.
"I suppose I should be mad but... I agree buddy,"
"I am so flattered by your kind-hearted words Scotty,"
Stiles drawled sarcastically.
"No seriously, bro, you look hot,"
"M'kay then bud,"
Stiles felt a little uncomfortable, but this was Scott. His brother from his other mother.
"You smell different... like, your scent is a bit different,"
"I smell different,"
Stiles said monotonously.
"Yeah,"
"Well, okay then,"
He grabbed his things, nodded to the couple and walked to class.
•••
The day went through smoothly, a few people walking into poles while watching him, you know... just the usual.
He was currently in the locker room getting ready for lacrosse, chatting to Scott about his summer.
Just as he was taking his shirt off Danny catcalled at him, causing Scott to laugh.
Stiles shook his head. "I can't take you anywhere."
They all headed out to the field and Coach was yelling about ladies having to hurry their asses up, or something.
"Okay, Ladies new year of lacrosse! You all know how this goes, you make the cut everyone loves ya and if you don't, your benched!"
Stiles sighed waiting for Coach to finish the speech he does every year.
"OKAY LETS GO GO GO! SUICIDES GO!"
He shouted with several blows of the whistle.
Stiles did his suicides at a surprising pace, beating the werewolves and humans alike. Jackson, Isaac and Scott look at him in somewhat awe, but mostly confusion.
He wasn't even breaking a sweat on his 15th run.
By the time they were finished he was a little puffed, while the rest of the team was on the ground wheezing.
"You have some stamina on you there, Stilinski."
Coach said in his 'surprised' voice.
"Alright, everyone gear up!"
Everyone did as told while the three werewolves made their way over to Stiles. "Who is your dealer?" Jackson asked bluntly. Stiles scoffed. "Fuck off Jackson, I'm not on drugs." Scott frowned, "Then what the hell was that? I'm an Alpha and you beat me,"
"I don't know, maybe something in the water... Look, I really don't know okay?" | 3b97c60f00d646a4991eb7e0d8a96b9e | ['62215ee456584ff9bce17045def42736'] | Because that's your job
His father has always given him too much to be responsible for.
He never let Dean tell anyone how his mother died, he won’t let him have a normal job, won’t let him have his little apple pie life because he has to sacrifice everything to help people.
Because that’s his job.
One thing that John never had to tell Dean was to look out for Sammy. He always knew to look out for him. It was the most important responsibility he had ever had his entire life. And the amount of times he screwed it up…
Sam thinks Dean's just a solider to dad, that he doesn't treat Dean the way fathers are supposed to treat their sons. But he’s wrong. Dad cares about him, he’s proud of him because he's a good son… right? Exactly. He's not a soldier, he's a good son. And he always got the extra cookie because of it.
Sam thinks he did it to manipulate him, to reward him for things that no one should ever have to see, let alone go through. Dad would never though… not ever…
Anyway, too much responsibility inevitably leads to failure and let down. Which is what he does best. He let Dad down, he let his mother down, he let Bobby down, Jo, Ellen, Lisa and Ben, Charlie, Cas, Kevin and most of all Sam. He has lied, hurt and nearly let his brother get killed and it was all his fault.
Dean's always wanted to be like his father, because who wouldn't? He saves so many people and never asks anything in return except that he finds his wife’s killer and have vengeance against them for the pain they have caused their family.
His father is a stubborn mule and he's not the father of the year but he tries his best. It’s just that his best… was never really enough. So Dean raised Sammy himself. Sam would kill him for saying it, but he's just like Dad. He got all his looks from Dad and has the same headstrong determination, Dean got it all from their mother. But Sam… his best is better than Dad’s best could ever be. Dean's proud of him.
They hate each other, Sammy and John, but they would die for one another.
Sometimes, when they fight—actually every time they fight—it’s like Dean's completely invisible to them. He hates seeing them fight, but they do. Like dogs. And Dean tries so hard to be the peacemaker but they don’t even look at him. Sam will be yelling his lungs out in fury at Dad and Dad will quietly growl his replies. It’s hard to get between them physically since his Dad is pretty damn strong, being an ex-marine, and Sam… he’s 6’4. Dean doesn't know what was in his cereal growing up but whatever it was… damn.
So getting between them is asking for a black eye, even though they never hurt each other... they would never. But that’s okay, fair enough that he shouldn't get between them. It’s fine—okay it’s not but… what is he supposed to do? Punch them back? No.
Dad will order Sam to do something, Sam will say no and ask why he expects Sam to just do and Dad will reply with something along the lines of ‘Because that’s what a good son would do’, ‘Because I said so, Sam’ or ‘Dean does what he’s told, so should you!’ and Sam will inevitably stop talking to he and Dean.
Dean thinks to himself that he don’t get it because… what did he do? What has he done wrong? Why does he always get punished? Why does he—and Dad’s voice will appear in his head and say, "Because that’s your job, Dean." |
ee773ba2a32d46989f0e4f765ffee13a | ['622ea90d4645426f825a38476c3081ce'] | _ He worships my skin with his mouth, and prays across my body with his fingers, a whispered Amen against my ribs, a deep Gregorian chant across my stomach, a confession against my inner thighs. _
_ He’s prostrate in the face of his religion, his God, helpless with awe. _
_ He’ll light a thousand candles for me and make me glow. _
_ He needs this, but I do as well. _
_ A God only exists if there’s someone there to worship them, even a God like me, so full of anger and hurt and self-destructive tendencies. _
_ There’s nothing New Testament about me. _
_ I’m an old God full of self-pitying petulant need. _
_ The kind of God that lashes out desperately in frustration without a thought for the poor mortals caught in the cross-fire. _
_ A God more human than humans. _
_ Oh, God… _
_ His mouth is enough to make me pray right back at him, and my hands push hard into his hair, curling my fingers through the longer treses, tight enough that I’m probably hurting him. _
_ I don’t care. _
_ Oh, God… _
_ His hands seem everywhere, never settling in one place for long, and his mouth moves back up, faster, frantic almost, kisses missed as he presses his lips to mine again, his body to my body, his skin to my skin. _
_ I’m not alone. _
_ How can I be alone when Tyrell feels like he’s a part of me, that he fits so fucking perfectly against me, inside me. _
_ Oh, God… _
_ I missed you, I missed you… _
_ He tells me that he missed me too, pants it against my mouth with a helpless whine as he grasps at my thigh, pressing me higher up the bed. _
_ Oh, God… _
_ Why didn’t I do this weeks ago? _
_ Why couldn’t we find it in ourselves to be this way the day we came back to the city? _
_ Why does it seem like one of us is always standing to the side with our hand on the self-destruct button... _
_ Oh _
_ My _
_ God _
_ His hairline’s damp with sweat, and as he presses his forehead to mine I know I want every part of him, his sweat on my skin, his saliva against my tongue, his cum inside me. _
_ He’s mine, and I’m his, and we ARE. _
_ We’re Gods. _
_ No. _
_ Just one deity, two heads, four arms, four legs, one breath. _
_ One heart. _
_ I love him. _
_I love him..._
_ Oh, God. _
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> SORRY!
> It's been so long since I updated, but those of you who know me on twitter know I've been ill and uuugh.
> Hope this makes up for the wait a little?
10. Stay
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> How did I fall in love again?
>
> To paraphrase Hemingway,
>
> Gradually, and then suddenly…
_ Are you still here? _
_ Holding onto the coattails of this story. _
_ Are you desperate for your happy ending? Your neat finish, all the ends tied tightly off? _
_ What can I say? _
_ I don’t know how this ends… I just live here friend. _
_ I don’t have your power… To watch from the outside. _
_ Critically. _
_ Longingly. _
* * *
_ It takes a couple of weeks before I move into Tyrells room properly. _
_ I know at first this confused him. _
_ Maybe he thought that fucking made everything alright again, that I’d wake in the morning wrapped up in his arms and we’d laugh about how crazy it was we hadn’t done this earlier. _
_ In fact, what happened was that about ten minutes after we were done, I got up and went back to bed. _
_ He didn’t need to say anything. _
_ He didn’t need to call out to me and ask me why. _
_ I could feel his hurt follow me back through the living room and into my own, slip under the firmly shut door to sit on the end of my bed like a limpid-eyed child, gaze beseeching and lost. _
_ A part of me even felt a little triumphant about it. _
_ A bigger part of me did not. _
_ He bought breakfast that morning, running to the deli six blocks away for bagels, and the sound of the door closing on his return woke me. _
_ I didn’t want to be awake. _
_ I wanted to stay in that quiet dark place, the one that felt like home. _
_ The place where **He** is now. _
_ Where I am. _
_ I get up, I dress, I eat his bagels and drink his coffee. _
_ I smile and it feels genuine enough. _
_ But I’m guarded. _
_ I’m not ready. _
__
* * *
_ Before I move back in, I come to Tyrell twice more. _
_ Each time he’s sitting up waiting for me in bed, like he’d been waiting the whole time, and I’d wonder if that was how he spent his nights now, waiting. _
_ I wondered what time he finally gave up and slept. _
_ Late I guess. _
_ Each time I came to him he waited for me to move towards him, waited for me to give silent consent in the way I moved, the way I touched. _
_ And each time I left him after. _
_ A bad taste in my mouth like sour milk. _ | c7445aa5ed5e46ad868277c4d72cdc6b | ['622ea90d4645426f825a38476c3081ce'] | “What a curse for you…” She pouted. “But… where there’s a will there’s a way… and you have a car…. I have two weeks before my hearing… We could have a lot of car sex between now and then…”
“I do..” He nodded and mouthed along her jaw, grinning when he met her lips. “And I just LOVE a good car fuck..something about how open it is, anyone could walk by..see me making Ya moan.” He laughed then pecked her nose.
Audrey scrunched her nose under his lips and laughed.
“God! you’re so narcissistic!” She chuckled. “Next you’ll be insisting on fucking in front of a mirror so you can watch yourself flexing while fucking..” She teased, ducking her head and biting him gently on the chin.
Nate laughed and dropped his head, glancing shyly up at her then bit his lip. “Yeah..been there, done that. Made her watch too, shoulda seen her face..”
She laughed then, pushing away a little as she half doubled over.
“Oh my god! You pig! Nate!!…………Please tell me you looked away long enough to get the poor girl off…”
He cocked his head and smiled a big sly grin. “She got off. Don’t worry about that, they always do with me.” He chuckled and pulled her back into a hug, kissing her neck. “We’d better get you back though before you get the cops called out for your arrest or something..”
She let him hold her for a moment, then smiled against his neck.
“I don’t care who you fucked…. but I want all your hugs to myself.” She chuckled, nuzzling under his jaw, trying to ignore the fact they had to go.
He smiled then scooped her up around his hips and spun her round again, holding her up around his waist then smiled at her.
They couldn’t avoid it anymore, it was rounding on dinner time, and as much as he’d like her to spend the night here again, he knew that they wouldn’t allow it.
Audrey giggled, wrapping her arms and legs around him, burying her face against his neck, and when he stood still, she took a deep breath against him, sighing softly, holding him a little tighter before sliding down his body.
“Ok…. Time to go…”
* * *
I’ll text you after I call my dad, let you know when he’ll be blowing into town.” Nate said as they sat in his car a moment before she left. “Then we can plan for something. K?”
She nodded, half turned in her seat facing him, her hand curled in his.
“It’s ok if you can’t… you can still text me sometime… right?”
“Yeah, I’ll be able to text.” He nodded, leaning across to kiss her deeply, taking a slow breath through his nose.
In all honesty, his dad probably wouldn’t even acknowledge him unless he needed him to be somewhere with him, both him and Kyle needing to be cleaned up and presentable to the public, pretend they are the model children of the governor.
Pulling back from the kiss, she ran her hand softly over his cheek and smiled. “I love you… catch you later…” She whispered, kissing him quick before making herself go, because if she didn’t, she might refuse to leave the damn car.
“Love you too…” he sighed as she left, watching her go inside before pulling away. He’d go grab some food before heading home, then he’d call his dad.
* * *
There was no news, for which she was eternally grateful…. The less meetings that popped up, the easier it would be to pretend nothing was happening.
“Joining us for dinner?” Silvia cocked an eyebrow at her when she nodded.
“Sure… Why not.. Might not have many more here .”
“Aw Chica… don’t say that… “
But she didn’t sound convincing, she sounded resigned, weary, like she was on the edge of professional burn out.
Audrey had seen it a lot. People didn’t stay at the coal face for long, the stress, the inability to leave your work _ at _ work, she’d feel sorry for them, but at least they got to leave, to do something else, they didn’t have to live it.
* * *
Nate was sat in the living area on the couch, rolling his pipe between his fingers a moment before dialing his dad, of course it ringing until just the last second before he answered in his gruff, stern but Oh so lovable voice.
“Nathaniel.”
“Hey, dad. Was just wondering when you’re coming home? Mom said you’d be home next week, right?” He asked, trying to make it sound like he wasn’t scared.
There was a pause, a shuffling of papers and the sound of his father pulling the phone from his face and talking to someone else. “Tomorrow night. I have a meeting in the morning and then Im on a plane.”
“Oh, alright.” Nate smiled, grateful he’d get a little bit with Audrey. “I’ll see you then, then.”
“Goodbye Nathaniel.” His dad hung up, leaving the line dead.
Ok.
* * *
Audrey left the table early, getting herself in bed early, curling up to read a little, really not up to sitting downstairs and watching someone elses idea of good TV.
She put her phone on vibrate and pushed it under her pillow, wondering if he’d text, or call or anything, and wondering why she still doubted he might.
He’d said he would, but old habits die hard she guessed.
" _hell b home tmmoro night._
_ we can hang in the day? _
_ if u still want" _
He was lain on the couch now, smoking even though he would regret it when his dad came home. Fuck it.
Audrey glanced up when her phone buzzed, reaching under her pillow for her phone.
" _Well… I guess I don’t have anything better to do ;)"_
_ "what time? Xx" _ |
d8c95d32eafd4edbbbf575098bd21ab0 | ['624abc9e9a234d86a048453308d9ea34'] | Never Again
He never should have let her go. He didn’t really know who this Brittany person was - a friend from school, but not one she had mentioned often. It was a sweet sixteen party. It had been a while, but he remembered them, sort of.
Alec wasn’t usually the one to deal with giving approval for these sorts of things, but he was a single parent for the weekend thanks to a girls retreat with some old college mates that had took Tess out of town.
He should have been tipped off by the fact that this so-called friend was a few years older than Daisy.
His phone rang at 11:43pm. It was the hospital. As soon as he heard the words ‘daughter’ and ‘accident,’ he had his coat half on and was looking like mad for his keys.
He ran inside the hospital, frantically trying to find out which room she was in. The nurse was less than helpful, but he was in such a state, he probably wasn’t making much coherent sense. His heart felt like it was about to come bursting out his mouth as he ran down the hall, dodging people left and right.
It stopped when he saw her.
Thank God she was alright. With the exception of a couple bruises and a sore neck, she was unscathed. Her face filled with horror and guilt when she saw him. Then the tears started.
His head was still spinning from sprinting and turning his head side to side looking for her room number. He managed to make his way to the edge of her bed to sit down.
Between sobs she explained that some of the kids wanted to go for a ride, and one of them had been drinking and got behind the wheel. It was just a short drive; she didn’t think he was all that drunk, but by the time she realized he was, it was too late to get out of the car. They swerved onto the curb trying to avoid a car and hit a tree. The worst injury was a broken arm given to the driver.
_Serves him right._
"I’m so sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to," she managed to get out before returning to her sobs.
He wrapped his arms around her, gently, and let her cry into his chest.
"It’s ok, sweetheart," he said, rubbing her back.
He didn’t let her go until she loosened her grip. She looked up at him, trying to read his level of disappointment. He just looked…relieved.
"I don’t know what I would do if you got hurt," he said.
"I’m sorry. It was stupid. I don’t even know why I did it."
She got the clear from the nurse to leave, and they got into the car. It was a completely silent drive for at least the first five minutes.
"Does Mom know?" she asked.
He hadn’t told her yet; he rushed to the hospital as soon as he got the call. His grip on the wheel tightened.
"No."
She fidgeted with her fingers.
"Are going to do anything like this ever again? Can you promise me that you won’t?"
"Of course. Never. I promise."
He glanced over at her. This whole ordeal seemed like punishment enough.
He held out his left hand to her, pinky extended, eyes back on the road.
She looked at it before hooking her own pinky around his, the smallest hint of a smile forming on her face.
"Good," he said.
He gave her finger an extra squeeze before releasing it.
She waited, expecting him to say something more.
"No need to worry your mother about it then, right?"
She smiled.
"Thanks, Dad."
He nodded as he turned the car into the parking lot of the ice cream shop. She was a bit confused, but pleasantly.
"Right then. Banana split?" he asked.
She nodded with a smile as they both got out of the car.
"Your treat," he added.
He gave her hair a ruffle and put his arm around her shoulder. She leaned her head into his chest.
“I love you, Dad,” she said softly.
He kissed her head.
“I love you too, darling.” | 3406c3e3fe664e3b943470712ee823d0 | ['624abc9e9a234d86a048453308d9ea34'] |
Oh, Darling
**Author's Note:**
> My headcanon for why he calls her “darling”.
When Tess was two weeks late, he felt his heart plummet into his stomach. It shouldn't have been a surprise - they were trying after all - but attempting and succeeding are very different things. As soon as they were certain she was pregnant, the uncertainty of fatherhood set in. He could barely take care of himself when Tess wasn't around, let alone another tiny human being.
The worst fear of all, the one that never left the back of his mind, was the fear that he would become his father. That's everyone's fear, isn't it? That they'll become their parents, the worst parts of them at least. He had fought against it, but sometimes he would do things, or phrases would come out of his mouth and make him pause. They weren't his words or his actions; they were his father's. They felt foreign in his body, but they happened. And it scared him.
He spent his evenings reading parenting books, sometimes aloud to Tess before bed. She wasn't as keen on them. She was more into the ones on pregnancy and health.
“Parenting was an instinct,” she had said one night when he was especially anxious. “Something that just kicks in when the time is right.”
His experience gave him some doubt, but he had smiled at her and told her she was probably right.
When Tess went into labour almost two months early, his heart dropped again. Nothing was ready, in any way. He grabbed what he could, the necessities, before rushing to the hospital.
He wanted to be in the room with her, she did too, but he lasted maybe an hour before his own anxiety began wearing off on her. Part of him was relieved. His heart was racing, and he was dizzy and sweating, not to mention his hand was cramping from Tess squeezing it during contractions.
He did everything in the waiting room but wait; he paced; he drummed on the armrest; he even whistled, but stopped shortly after one of the nurses shot him a funny look. He stared at the closed door to her room. Sometimes he heard her and just wanted to burst in and let her squeeze his hand off if she had to, but he knew it was better that he didn't.
It was almost midnight when they congratulated him on his little baby girl. A girl. He had a girl. They had a little girl.
It was barely minutes later that they had to take her to the neonatal ICU. She wasn't even 4 lbs.
The first time he saw her, she was in a clear bassinet with tubes all over her. But she was beautiful. Ever so tiny, and wrinkled, but she was his. She was theirs. He was able to poke his hand in the hole at the side of the bassinet, and through glossy eyes he watched her hand rest on his finger.
"Hi," he whispered. "I'm your dad."
He gently bounced his finger as if he were shaking her hand. He let out a laugh mixed with exhaustion and pure joy. He stood there for a moment, just looking at her, this little miracle.
They didn't know how long she would have to be in the ICU for. Her lungs were the main issue, and they were told it would be a couple days at the very least.
He stayed in the hospital over night with Tess. He didn't sleep much. The rollaway bed wasn't very comfortable, but that wasn't the main cause of his insomnia. He was anxious for her to be alright, the new “her” in his life.
Tess was discharged two days later, but their daughter wasn't. They stayed at the hospital, only leaving to get food or a decent cup of tea. He didn't want to leave at all, but at the same time staying there was driving him mad. When he left, he felt like he was abandoning them. His mind tortured him with all of the possible things that could go wrong while he was out. But when he was there, he was just sitting and waiting and feeling powerless, wishing he could make everything alright.
One night, Tess was exhausted and fell asleep before they'd even had dinner. He couldn't think of sleep that day, day four of their hospital vacation. He went to see his little girl; he took every chance they'd let him to be with her. It was the only thing that kept him sane.
He brought a chair over next to her and once again poked his finger inside, resting it under her hand. He looked at her; her eyes were still closed. He watched her breathing. Then he started to sing, softer than a whisper.
"Oh, darling," he started. "Please believe me. I'll never do you no harm."
A tear rolled down his cheek as his eyes fixated on the tubes coming out of her and into the various machines that were keeping her alive.
"Oh, darling," he sung, his voice cracking. "If you leave me."
A few more tears escaped from the corners of his eyes.
"I'll never make it alone."
They were flowing freely now, and he couldn't bring himself to stop them. But then, through blurry eyes, he saw her eyelids flutter. For a brief moment he saw her eyes. He liked to think she saw his too.
After what felt like an eternity, their new family was finally cleared to go home. They still had a journey ahead of them, full of dirty nappies, spit up covered shirts, and sleepless nights. But on those sleepless nights, when she was screaming her finally developed lungs out, he would hush Tess back to sleep. He’d tread softly over to her bassinet and pick up his little girl, his Daisy, and rock her gently in his arms.
"Oh, darling," he'd sing, with her hand gripped firmly on his finger, and his free hand running softly up and down her back until she fell back asleep in his arms. |
aa8f7e1e7d28404c816dc9099e562cdc | ['62696dad200745fb8661499079c49f9e'] | Dean was moving as soon as Balth let him go, punching viciously at Luci.Unfortunately, Balth had been pinning his right arm.His injured shoulder robbed Dean of much of his power.Luci grunted but didn’t fall back.Instead, he tried to straddle Dean, grabbing for Dean’s free hand.He clearly was hoping to pin Dean again.Not happening.Dean twisted, bridging his body up and to the side.Luci pitched sideways.Dean jerked his left hand free and brought it up sharply.A moment later, he had Luci off of him and was scrambling to his feet.
Too late.He could barely make out the shadowy figure of Balthazar running on the dock.He was reaching down, trying to scoop up the knife.“Balth, stop!That dock is…”
The telltale glistening that covered part of the dock was the only warning Balth had.The section of the deck where the knife had landed was still wet from Castiel’s actions tonight.Now, that water was frozen into a thin trail of ice along the dock.Would Balth have recognized his danger if he’d seen it?No way to know.By the time Dean started out after him, it was already too late.Balth’s feet slid on the icy wood of the dock.He cried out once in surprise.His hands scrabbled for purchase.But nothing could stop his momentum.With a crack and a splash, Balthazar Novak vanished into the pond.
“Balthazar!”
Lucifer’s scream rang in Dean’s ears.Then he was charging forward, trying to push past Dean and go after his brother.Dean barely managed to grab him.“Stop!You can’t help him if you fall in after him.Luci, grab that lantern!” Dean ordered.“The lantern, Lucifer!Bring it over here, quick, so we can see him!”
Luci stared at him blankly for a moment.Then he nodded and went for the lantern.Dean forced himself to slow down, to watch his own treacherous footing on the ice.Lucifer had the lantern, bringing it to the dock.“Ok, good, Luci!Now I need you to hold it up, off to the side a bit.I need to be able to see where he fell in.”Dean searched the water.There.Beneath the surface along the side of the dock, Balthazar was scratching weakly at the ice.Dean lay down flat on the dock, drew back his arm, and cracked the thin ice with the base of his palm.Balth immediately surfaced, gasping and coughing.Dean grabbed for the other boy’s flailing hand.“Balth!Come on, I’ve got you!Luci, put the lantern down on the edge of the dock there and help me drag him up!”
Once again, Luci obeyed without question.He seized his brother, helping Dean drag the shivering, gasping younger boy safely up onto the deck.Dean breathed a sigh of relief.He got to his feet, feeling more cold and exhaustion than he’d ever imagined.His shoulder throbbed dully.
Lucifer had stripped off Balth’s jacket and given him his own.Now he was also getting to his feet.His eyes went to Dean.They flicked towards the knife on the dock.
Dean quickly kicked it into the water.
Lucifer lunged at him.
Dean stepped to the side, heels tempting the edge of the dock.He caught Lucifer, taking advantage of the older boy’s momentum to flip him and drive him down hard.Luci landed flat on his back on the dock.The dock shook.
Lucifer snarled in fury.He got to his knees and swung at Dean again.The attack was pure anger, no real mindset behind it at all.Dean easily caught Luci’s fist, grabbed his arm with both hands, and twisted.
A snap.A cry of pain.Lucifer dropped back to the dock, cradling his arm.Dean eyed Balthazar, saw the younger boy glaring up at him in hatred.But he made no move to attack.Balth stayed as he was, shivering and dripping in the cold.
“It’s over,” Dean told both boys.“I’m going to go back over there, get my jacket, throw it over Balthazar, and call for an ambulance before he freezes to death.Luci, stay with him.And so help me, if you attack me again, I’m throwing you both into this pond!”
No one attacked Dean.
When Dean explained the situation to 911, two ambulances and a police cruiser arrived.For the second time that night, Dean was in the back of an ambulance.This time, he was the patient.A familiar paramedic was shaking her head as she cut through Dean’s shirt and pressed a bandage to his knife wound.Dean answered questions and obediently held still.His ambulance waited while the first unloaded a half-frozen Balthazar.Lucifer was escorted in behind him by police, still cradling his broken arm.Then Dean insisted on walking in on his own, clutching bloody gauze to his shoulder.
His father was waiting for him at the ER.“What the hell were you thinking, Marine?!” John bellowed.“Going out alone like that?!”
Dean straightened.He’d been prepared for a dressing down.But suddenly John was embracing him.His father’s tears were hot on the side of Dean’s face.“I already lost Mary!If I’d lost any of you boys tonight?” John was whispering.“I couldn’t have gone on.”
That made Dean cringe.He couldn’t meet his father’s eyes when John let him go.His father hovered, watching as the medical people pulled off the rest of Dean’s shirt and removed the gauze, revealing the wound.Dean heard him suck in his breath.“You got stabbed with a knife?!”
“Yes, sir.”Dean could barely speak.“I forgot they had it.Honestly, I would have probably gone out there anyway.”
“You stupid motherfucker!”John was getting looks.
“Yes, sir.They hurt Sammy, dad!They said…”
“I don’t care what they said.It’s over.Just let it be over.”John was clutching Dean’s hand now.“Sammy is safe, Castiel is safe, and now you are, too.At the moment, that is the only thing I care about.But I suspect Benny’s going to punch you.”
45. Concessions
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> John must navigate a legal mine field for his sons
John Winchester hated politics.He hated politicians even more.Those who were sitting at the table with him now were not immune.But he needed them.John had already decided that he would do whatever it took to get justice for his sons and keep Castiel. | 25e6c2ca887f45f79df08eb19c3d0ab1 | ['62696dad200745fb8661499079c49f9e'] | He found himself constantly twisting his neck, subconsciously trying to get the claiming band off. He couldn’t stop testing the ropes around his wrists. He’d never realized before how helpless he could become without the use of his hands. Having them tied behind his back was awful. Still, it could have been worse. Raphael had wanted to chain him, either a collar around his neck or shackles at his wrists, insisting that a human treasure should be “secure.” Sam had managed to argue his way down to having his hands tied, a rope trailing from them for Raphael to hold. Now he frowned, feeling Raphael once again lifting up on the rope, tugging on his wrists. “Stop pulling on me!” he hissed at the archangel.
“Be silent,” Raphael whispered back. “Our enemies approach.”
Sam looked up and saw them, Michael’s angels winging their way towards the open field where Raphael was waiting with Sam. To his irritation, Raphael tugged on his rope again, jerking Sam backwards by his wrists and making him fall against the archangel. Then Raphael was bending down, wrapping an arm around Sam’s waist and lifting him up, holding him as the irritated angels approached.
The angels moved closer, stopping a short distance away from Raphael and Sam. Their eyes moved over Sam. Remembering what Castiel had suggested, Sam twisted in Raphael’s arm, rubbing his head in an affectionate manner against the archangel’s chest. Raphael made a small sound, almost like a purr, and gathered him up, turning Sam and holding him with both arms. Sam immediately drew up his legs and pressed himself against Raphael, tucking his head under the archangel’s chin.
It worked. The two angels looked uncertain and took a step back. Sam felt a shadow and realized that the archangel had arched his wings proudly, reaching up one hand to stroke Sam’s hair. “I have a message for your archangel,” he announced.
“Archangel Michael has nothing to say to you, outcast!” The angel’s words were brash, but her voice was uncertain.
“Fine!” Raphael spat. “It’s not I that wishes to speak with him. I am here only as a herald.”
Once again, the angels exchanged a look. “For whom?”
Raphael looked pointedly towards a nearby hill.
Gabriel stood on the hill in full battle armor, his wings up in an aggressive show. In one hand, he had his archangel blade, which he held up high. His other hand rested on Castiel’s shoulder.
The angels had explained to Sam that the real reason they claimed human treasures was because humans were so close to little angels. It was why he’d suggested that Gabriel claim a real angel. For that to happen, it had been necessary to reduce Castiel to human form. He’d thought that might be enough in and of itself to convince the angels to stop taking human treasures. But it hadn’t been enough. Castiel had been a captain, but in Gabriel’s hands, he’d been rendered human. Powerless and helpless, the captain was little more than a prisoner of war.
This, though, was a very different story.
Gabriel’s claiming band was clearly visible around Castiel’s neck. He was still human sized. But his Grace blazed in his eyes. His ebony wings were raised in an identical manner to Gabriel’s. He was every bit the powerful angel he’d ever been, and yet he was also just as clearly a victory treasure, claimed by the archangel that controlled him without the aid of rope, chain, or magical barrier. Castiel stepped closer, put his arms around Gabriel, and hugged him, wrapping his wings around the giant archangel even as Gabriel’s hand moved to affectionately pet him.
There could be no greater demonstration of Castiel’s value. He was, without a doubt, the greatest victory treasure any angel could ever claim.
“Tell your archangel that Archangel Gabriel wishes to speak!” Raphael roared at the two stunned angels. “He would have parlay, at a time and place of his own choosing. Go, and return to me with your answer!”
The two angels actually bowed slightly, almost in spite of themselves. Then they raced away, winging frantically back into the sky.
Naturally, Gabriel was extremely pleased with himself. “That’s got ‘em!” he whooped. “I think they nearly pissed their tunics when you hugged me, Cassie! Perfect! Just perfect! Raphie, did you see their faces?! Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a picture of that!”
Sam had to chuckle. But as he tried to twist around and get down, Raphael’s arms tightened around him. He stiffened. “Um, Raphael?” he called, trying to sound confident. “Good job! That really worked out great! We did it, now it’s time to let me go.”
Raphael put him down and untied Sam’s hands. But then Sam was suddenly lifted off of his feet once more, cradled against the archangel’s chest. He froze, clinging to the arm around him. “Raphael? What are you doing?! Put me down!”
The archangel’s fingers traced the claiming band around Sam’s neck. “Perhaps we should keep this a bit longer? After all, we’ll just have to put it on again when Michael comes!”
Sam swallowed hard. “A-alright, I guess that’s ok. Just put me down.”
The arm tightened around him. “It’s a long walk, my treasure. Wouldn’t it be easier if I carried you?”
Once again, Sam was reminded of just how big angels really were. The arm around his waist was bigger than his thigh. He had no chance, none whatsoever, of freeing himself if Raphael decided to keep him. And the archangel’s claiming band was already locked in place around Sam’s neck. |
5de8727e39224a8e97181f0501c3841a | ['62840d49ea114844812e5a9a8271928f'] | You could feel the cold inside the department even worse than outside. Hank grunted occasionally, eyeing the red circle as Connor described what happened. His eyes were downcast, you can tell he blamed himself for Connor's kidnapping, just like he blamed himself for Cole’s death. They weren’t exactly friends, but if Connor had chased Rupert instead of helping Hank up onto the building they wouldn’t be here now. Despite that, the relief in Hank’s posture was there, if masked by folded arms and a stony expression.
“It’s still red, you know,” Connor looked up at him, cut off from graphically describing exactly how he received the wound in his leg. “your LED is still red, what does that mean?”
“Oh, that’s just my program keeping me alert, Lieutenant. There is no danger, but my sensors may have been damaged to some extent.” Hank peered at him for a moment, then grunted, allowing him to continue his story. His voice modulator was mostly repaired by now, after he ingested some thirium on the ride back, but it still fuzzed periodically.
Connor was a terrible liar.
You rubbed your eyes and slid off the desk you'd been sitting on, mumbling something about grabbing a coffee and processing everything.
Your hands worked on their own, going through the familiar motions of making coffee and ignoring Gavin’s snide comments, and the subsequent smack Chris gave him a moment later. You tried to be tired. You tried to look as though you felt nothing but relief after finding Connor, and you did, of course. But in that moment he looked so _scared._ You were still on edge, and the coffee probably wouldn’t help, but even just the routine of it helped ground you.
Warm coffee in hand, you meandered back to your desk, a few rows behind the others and took a breath. Last time you had been captured it took only a few hours for the DPD to break down the door and heave you out of harms way. That experience was doubtless the worst you’d been through. Connor was there for _5_ _days_ , and now he sat politely on a chair discussing the methods of torture as easily as one would discuss the latest chapter in a book club.
It seemed like hours had passed while you wrote notes and filled forms, until someone took the cold coffee from your desk and replaced it with a fresh, steaming one. You looked up, mirroring the small smile on the android's face. Connor looked almost good as new by now, wearing police-issued jacket and trousers, barely a faint blue tinge to his cheek and hair styled neatly as usual. “Detective, I’d like a moment to speak with you outside, please.”
You nodded after a moment and followed him with the new mug, noticing the apprehensive trace in his voice, and how he didn’t look back to see if you were following. You’d always been good at reading people, seeing what they were thinking by the way they moved or positioned themselves. The edge of their voice. The colour of their LED.
The moment the door closed behind you Connor dropped the façade, stepping up close to you. “There’s something wrong with me,” he said your name in a whisper, almost pleading. “I’m not sure why I’m feeling this way, why I’m feeling at _all_ , but it’s difficult to remain calm. The Lieutenant keeps pestering me about why I helped him instead of chasing the deviant, _accomplishing my mission._ The only person here who hasn’t drilled me for information is you, Detective.”
You blinked, absorbing it all. “My sensors are perfectly intact, I-“ he hesitated “I lied to Hank. The reason my LED is sensing danger is because it has discovered a fault in my programming.”
Your eyes widened, because he _knows._ Connor is a deviant and he knows and its terrifying him. “Connor-“ you started, trying to calm him.
“You already saw it, though. The look on your face when you found me was enough of a giveaway. Another android in my position would likely have become a deviant by now. But I’m a prototype, my advanced AI knows I’m changing… and is trying to resist it.”
You could see the stress building inside him, threatening to overflow. His voice hitched and his chest heaved. So you did the only thing you could think of.
You hugged him.
Connor froze immediately, fully unprepared for this. You could almost feel the processors in his mind whirring, trying to think of what to do, how to respond.
"It's alright. Whatever happens next, we're here for you," You spoke quietly against his chest. "He won't say it, but Hank cares about you- _I care about you..._ You're not alone, Connor."
Connor slowly brought his arms to wrap snug around your body. Snow drifted from above and landed delicately between you. His voice was full of an uncharacteristic vulnerability.
_"Thank you."_
**Author's Note:**
> thank you for reading!!! its not much but i hope you liked it. its meant to be set a few weeks after the ortiz mission as the timeframe for the game is crazy short, so the characters are familiar but not massively close. for my first fic im kinda proud of it aha. | c5672bc1e02f4c36b3cae91083685285 | ['62840d49ea114844812e5a9a8271928f'] |
They Who Walk Alone in Life, They are of Sound Mind
**Author's Note:**
> Title from 'Ophelia' by Marika Hackman
Most days you felt deviancy really suited Connor. Some mornings he would wake from the androids newly implemented ‘sleep mode’ program, equipped with lethargy, grogginess and moodiness, and stumble into the kitchen only to scowl at anyone who dared make their presence known. Lunch breaks would usually consist of a loquacious trip to the Chicken Feed with Hank, reprimanding him each time Pedro talked him into yet another game.
Other days the shining new personality he’d founded was pushed to the backseat. When he reminded you so much of the _old_ him. The Deviant Hunter. Somebody else. His movements were calibrated and unyielding. Pure efficiency.
He addressed you politely, of course, Connor was never rude, but there was always a hint of austerity. No Hank, only Lieutenant. No you, only objective.
The days after that he seemed… drained. The smiles he sent you were lined with weariness, but he never spoke up about it. You’d known him long enough to recognise the guilty blank stares he often found himself lost in. But no, he never brought it up.
Naturally, it made him hard to approach the subject with.
“Connor?”
“Yeah?”
“I um, I’ve been meaning to ask yo- “
“Is that basil?”
_Uh._
You swivelled your head around to where he was perched on the kitchen counter. He wore a simple white t-shirt that framed his body well, decked with a few strokes of Japanese script on the sleeve. Loose fitting pants and a pair of gaudy panda slippers, a sarcastic gift from Hank that Connor took a particular fondness to. His gaze was locked right onto the herbs you were chopping for the dinner.
“I- wha- …yes? Rosemary and parsley too.” You diced a handful of each into small piles on the chopping board.
He didn’t speak further. The silence stretched for a few minutes while you scraped the herbs into the simmering sauce and stirred, waiting patiently for him to continue. Connor was prone to take the time to articulate his thoughts for a few minutes before speaking, plus the companionable silence was not unwelcome.
“How do you know which herbs to use? I noticed you don’t have a recipe open.” He commented, shifting on the table behind you.
“You just sorta… know. Things that taste good together and things that don’t. Comes from experience, I guess.”
Silence.
“What herbs do you use most often?”
“Probably basil, coriander, oregano….” He nodded softly at your response, deep in thought, “why do you ask, exactly? Planning any dangerously spiced dishes I should be warned about?” The brief smile you got for the jest almost made your heart clench.
“I have actually been considering starting a small herb garden to give you access to fresh herbs whenever necessary,” he almost looked embarrassed to say it, “As a… thank you, for helping me in my deviancy.”
“O-oh,” You felt your cheeks redden slightly. You coughed, covering a small smile. _That_ certainly provoked a reaction in your belly. “that sounds, really nice actually…. thank you.”
The momentary brush of fingers when you asked him to pass you the pepper grinder sent electricity racing through your veins. “We can buy some things to plant tomorrow if you’re free…?”
He took a moment to mentally check his schedule. Nodded in affirmation and gave a hesitant smile, one that would put all the stars in the sky to shame, something you don’t get to see nearly often enough.
And when he spoke, a hint of relief in his voice, “That would work be perfect.” You felt like you were floating up there among them.
“Good, because dinner is ready.”
Connor’s grin in reply was downright _charming._
* * *
The next day the two of you planted almost unreasonable amounts of herbs, vegetables and other assorted flora, mostly because the way his eyes lit up each time you mentioned a dish you could use the alleged vegetable in was addicting to watch.
As you planted each seed, the lulling of the radio nearby worked you into a methodical routine, watering and fertilising, trimming and tilling. Connor recited exactly how to begin a grow bed from his research, excitedly selecting where to place each plant for maximum sunlight and nutrients. He occasionally hummed along to the tunes, something he’d picked up from Hank when he thought no one was watching.
You quickly saw his change in demeanour, the simple act of gardening brought out a new side of him, one that warded away the regrets, helping _him_ grow too. He was doing this as much for his own benefit as yours.
And you were thankful for it.
_You’re not subtle, my dear._
And so, you’d begun the project on a whim together, and the weeks afterward soon became stagnant. Plants grew, and vegetables sprouted, but your affections never wavered. As days passed and your visits to the Anderson household became achingly slow, you would see Connor working in the garden. Sometimes he was tending to the leaves, checking for imperfections, other times he simply sat among the growth, drinking in the feel of it all.
The longing was always there in you, eager to reach out and grab his hand but shrinking away from the doubt. Opportunities that come and go, without consequence nor result. Looks that linger not quite long enough to be noticed, but just too long to allow yourself to move on. |
105004918a144a3b924707a1e1ca8aca | ['62a0644778cc407eb2b8c1641bb8ade4'] |
The Art of Subtly
Maria Merryweather was not in the best of moods. She'd agreed to meet Robin here, at the stream, at midday, and it was now _well_ past that time.
Where was he? Didn't he know she had better things to do than wait around for him all day? There were plenty of injured animals that needed her, who would probably appreciate her efforts more, but no, here she was, wasting her time waiting to tend _his_ injuries. Had he forgotten? She doubted it, not in light of the strict instructions she'd given him. But then he probably wasn't following them anyway, and definitely not the ones involving _resting_ his arm. And that was precisely why she had insisted on regularly checking his injury in the first place, since he would very probably end up ripping out her neat stitches.
Maria was few minutes away from giving up and leaving when she finally heard voices. Getting up from the rock she was sat on, she headed a short distance through the trees and into a clearing.
"Oh no, you take your time," She called out irritably to the group approaching from the other side, realising now why it must had taken Robin so long to arrive, "It's not like _I_ have anything better to do with my time…"
This was met by a good deal of sniggering from his friends. Robin at least had the good grace to look partly apologetic, but looked mostly still annoyed by the presence of Henry, Richard and David who had clearly accompanied him, uninvited, for reasons of their own.
"You’ll have to forgive him princess, he had a bit of a late night see," Henry told her with an irrepressible grin when he reached her. Maria folded her arms, eyebrows raised in invitation to go on, but otherwise unimpressed with this attempt to inspire her interest.
"There's been some suspicious activity down by the coast you see, so we were investigating last night. There's a lass down in the village who had a brother who might know something about it. Oh, _what_ was her name?"
It was the most unconvincing pretence of ignorance Maria had ever witnessed and she had to fight the very strong urge to roll her eyes.
"Molly," David supplied, the knowledgeable smirk playing around the corner of his lips full indication that he knew exactly where the story was going, "Molly Fawcett,"
"Ah yes, Molly Fawcett," Henry nodded with barely concealed smugness, "Do you know her?"
"I know _of_ her, yes," Maria answered, trying not to let any stiffness creep into her tone. Robin, she noticed, was glaring at Henry, and probably only resisting an urge of his own to sock his friend in the stomach because physical exertion of that sort was one of the many things Maria had forbidden him from. And evidently he judged disobeying her instructions directly in front of her to be more dangerous than whatever it was his friends were up to. _As he should_, she thought with some satisfaction.
"Yes, well, who hasn't heard of _Magnificent_ _Molly_ I suppose?” Henry asked, “Anyway, _Robin_, being the De Noir heir and all-"
"And the most charming of us all-" David broke in.
"And injured-" Richard added.
"-Took it upon himself to..._persuade_ her to tell him if she knew anything about it," The added emphasis Henry spoke with and the smirk practically splitting his face in two made it hard for Maria to miss the implication.
"Turns out she did and he had her singing like a bird…" David trailed off suggestively, evidently just in case she had missed it.
"How very..._selfless_ of him," Maria remained determined to act coolly indifferent. She knew exactly what they wanted, that they were trying to induce some sort of reaction from her. "After all, I’m sure you were all interrogating your _own_ sources. I know how seriously you all take your…responsibilities,”
When the three of them simply exchanged looks of silent laughter, she fought the temptation to roll her eyes again. Did they think she was blind to their artless baiting? No, she knew that they knew she wasn’t, which was rather the point to all this she supposed. The art of subtly had probably always been beyond them.
It wasn't beyond her however.
She unfolded her arms, and drew all five foot four of herself upright. "Unfortunately, I’m running short of time, so I’ll have to hear about what I’m sure was a _historic_ evening for you all another time," She looked pointedly at Robin, who, with a last glare at his friends, got the message and followed after her through the trees, the snickering of Henry, David and Richard fading behind them.
The walk was short and Maria didn’t say a word to Robin for its duration. By the time they reached the stream, and he started shrugging out of his leather jacket, the tension and apprehension was practically rolling off of him.
"You'll need to take that off too," She eventually said, nodding at his dark shirt.
He removed his hat and unwound his feathered scarf. "Maria, it’s not like they making it out-" He started, pulling his shirt over his head.
"I’m sure it’s none of my business Robin," Maria replied in light and unconcerned tone, pushing him down onto the stone she not so long ago been sitting herself. Manoeuvring round to his side, she carefully started unwrapping the grubby bandage from around his upper arm.
He didn’t look particularly reassured by this response. "Well, I still want you to know, it was nothing... inappropriate. It’s true she has a bit of a soft spot for me, so it was logical for me to talk to her. And that was it really, all I had to do was talk to her, flatter her a bit..." He trailed off, her lack of reaction still clearly unnerving him. | 07c2798898cd4e678c6b431f0dfb89b0 | ['62a0644778cc407eb2b8c1641bb8ade4'] | Maria was dizzy with her own desire but she loosened her legs and dropped her hands to rest on his belt at his hips. There was no denying that it was becoming harder and harder to stop and they were pushing each other's boundaries further and further lately. But they had an unspoken rule to both always respect each other’s limits without question. She was willing to admit that things had never escalated quite that quickly before though.
“There is an upside,” She said, after several moments of their heavy breathing, trying to distract herself from the urge to drag him back against her, “My uncle will be cutting down the time I spend in company. I should think he’ll be very proactive in overruling Loveday and Miss Heliotrope in that respect now. Which gives me more time to spend in the forest,”
“That’s hardly an upside given that you’re such a damn tease.” His voice was ragged.
“Are you saying you need a chaperone to protect you and your honour from me?” She smirked. He groaned and buried his head against her neck, apparently too wound up to respond to her teasing. She could feel him breathing heavily against her skin, and she bit her lip, appreciating how far she must have pushed him this time. Threading her hand gently into his hair, she leaned her head against his, closing her eyes and breathing in the heady scent of pine and leather.
After several moments he seemed to regain most of his usual composure. He pulled away and reached down to pick his hat off the ground from where it had been knocked off to.
“I’m going to speak to your uncle. If not today then tomorrow,” He informed her in a determined tone, lifting her down.
“You haven’t even spoke to your father yet,” She pointed out, “And I’ve told you, my uncle says I’m too young. You promised you’d wait until I was eighteen before you asked him,”
“I don’t care,” Robin answered, shaking his head, “That was before there was competition,”
“Robin,” She said in firm tone, pulling him to face her, “There is no competition. There’s no one else I’d so much as even consider,”
“Then what’s the point in waiting?” He demanded, frustration filling his voice.
“I don’t want to get this wrong and start another feud! We have to give my uncle, and your father, a chance at least. And after that, if they still won’t be reasonable, then you can kidnap me. I promise,”
“Reasonable,” Robin muttered. “There’s nothing _reasonable_ about how overprotective you uncle is. He’s going to object to everyone anyway, so I’ve hardly got anything to lose by talking to him sooner rather than later,”
“How can he object to you if his main concern is protecting me? You once held a knife to you own father to keep me safe. I don’t think that’s the issue,” At Robin’s uncomprehending look, she tilted her head slightly and continued. “Don’t you find it strange that he dismisses every man he hears of as a potential suitor, dislikes me spending time near any of them, and yet somehow I’m able to spend practically unlimited amounts of time in the forest with you?”
“That’s because he doesn’t know, thanks to your secret passage,” Robin muttered darkly.
“Oh of course he knows,” Maria answered impatiently, “Not how or when, but he’s not stupid Robin. He’s already half reconciled to the truth but I’m still practically is daughter. The reason he keeps insisting I’m too young is because that’s his way of letting me know that’s his condition, his way of living with eventually letting me go,”
Robin frowned slightly as he took this in, "You’ve never mentioned that before,"
"Well I only realised it yesterday, when he was far angrier over Reginald Braithwaite having the audacity to propose to me than he was when he caught you sneaking about to see me when I was ill,"
"He gave me absolute tongue lashing for that. And threatened to tell your Miss Heliotrope,"
"But he didn’t. Which proves he wasn’t too angry," She smiled at the memory of her former governess beating the living daylights out of his father's man, "He doesn’t want to let me go to anyone, that’s why he's overprotective. But I think he’d much rather it be to you than anyone else. You’ve already proved yourself in his eyes, a long time ago, and he knows I love you. But he needs to be able to look back and know he did his best for me this time,” She paused glancing towards the cliff edge, “I don’t think he’s ever forgotten, or forgiven himself for the choice I had to make that night…” she trailed off.
“Good,” Robin muttered. Maria’s gaze snapped back to him as he too glared at the cliff edge, remembering the same night. Despite her miraculous return from the sea, safe and well, she knew Robin had been unwilling to forgive and forget her uncle and his father's failures that night. While Robin himself had only stopped trying to hunt her a handful of hours before, he _had_ stopped; he had accepted she had beaten him, and promised to listen to her as she had asked. It was true that he hadn’t actually had much choice in this matter, courtesy of Wrolf very probably ripping his throat out otherwise, but he had very much had a choice in his actions afterwards. He could have chosen to ignore what she had told him, and believe in the things he had been told all his life. But he hadn’t; he had put aside those beliefs and helped her, even though it meant going against his father and his clan and the danger this put him in, and despite their chances of success against such odds. He had been given the chance to do the right thing, and he had done it. |
9d66e0ec512b4045ad99fd6676c73fe8 | ['6326ba93298a403ca0df42a5be12890b'] | "Hey, Belle, you don't have any books on hypnosis, do you?"
* * *
Okay, so she wasn't going to tie the guy up and hold a pocket watch up to his face until he came around to her way of thinking. And not just because the Storybrooke Public Library's selections on the subject were slim.
They were adults. They could have an adult conversation. He would see reason. Or he would, once her goddamn job didn't have her stuck traipsing through the woods like she was some kind of mountain varmint, on the trail of a lost dog.
_Honestly._
It was a task that didn't improve any with Graham a few paces in front, doing his best Davy Crockett impersonation, hunched low to pick up a trail. As if he'd grown up tracking wild things in rural Tennessee, and not just done a wilderness survival course one time.
"Anything?" Emma grumbled, stopping to pull her canteen out of her backpack and take a restorative swig.
"Not sure," he murmured, crouching down to examine a bent twig. "Could be." He straightened and cupped his hands over his mouth, shouting for the dog again.
They waited with baited breath, but the only sound in return was the chittering of swallows from the canopy overhead. No dog.
"Oh, c'mon," Emma groaned. "I'm sure he'll come home once he gets hungry. Haven't you ever seen Homeward Bound?"
"Must've missed that one," he said, holding out a hand for the canteen. Wiping the rim with her sleeve, as if that somehow sanitised it, she handed it over. "Why so impatient? Need to go home and work on your acceptance speech maybe?"
Emma nearly stumbled into a tree.
"Dad told you," she realized, her tone accusing.
"First thing this morning," he confirmed, a hand coming up to scratch at his beard. "That must be awkward. With Killian and everything."
Yeah, Graham knew about that. About their… _thing_.
It was kind of hard for him _not_ to know, after that time he'd caught them messing around in Killian's car down by the docks. Someone had called in a tip, apparently, and Emma still wasn't sure if there would ever be enough tequila to burn the shame of the encounter from her brain. She hadn't given up hope though.
"You have _no_ idea," Emma sighed, snatching the canteen back and taking a long draught, wishing it was something stronger.
"But you have to know you're the favorite, right?"
Yeah, Emma knew that. She knew that deep down, if push came to shove, if the townspeople pitted her against Killian one-on-one, she'd crush him in a landslide.
Sure, he was smart. Good looking. Well-read. Charming, when he wanted to be. The man could wear a leather jacket like no one else Emma had ever met. But something he didn't have? _Pedigree._
You could say what you liked about nepotism, but her Dad had been sheriff for thirty blessedly uneventful years, and it wasn't a bad legacy to inherit. Hell, both sides of her family could be traced back to the first band of idiots who'd found themselves marooned on a rocky, desolate beach, and called it home ever since.
Killian hadn't even lived in the _country_ until his junior year of high school.
And sure, there would always be that black mark next to her name after the whole _Teen Mom_ debacle, but on the whole, she thought it had all worked out okay. If anyone made single parenthood look good, it was Henry.
"I don't know," Emma reasoned. "Storybrooke's never had a woman as sheriff before. Some of the old-timers are bound to kick up a fuss."
Graham snorted. "Trust me, anyone who's seen you take down Leroy after a scuffle outside the Rabbit Hole knows you can handle yourself."
"So you're saying you _wouldn't_ hate it if I was your boss?"
He opened his mouth to respond when the radio attached to his belt crackled to life.
"Come in, Humbert, you read me?"
"Speak of the devil," Graham said with a smirk, bringing the radio up to his mouth. "Roger, that, Jones. Find anything?"
"Negative. Got a call from the Weatherley's, out by the Reservoir. Thought they might have seen something sniffing around. I said I'd send someone to check it out, over."
Emma leaned forward, grabbing the receiver out of Graham's hands. "We're on our way."
"Negative," came the crackled reply. "We still need someone to search your quadrant, over."
"We only have one radio, genius," Emma shot back, aware of Graham's warning hand on her shoulder. "And I am not hanging out in the woods, alone, without one. Over."
Unlike the boys, she'd never gotten the hang of all the proper radio speak. It made her feel stupid, like a bad extra in some old war movie. Even Henry, with his walkie talkies, had more of a knack for it. But there was no denying the satisfaction of ending an argument with "Over." If only every conversation could end that way.
"Left a Sat Phone in your backpack. You'll be fine, love. Over."
She wanted to argue a little more, but Graham wrestled the radio out of her grasp before she could get a word in. At least he had the decency to give her that _What can you do?_ shrug.
"You'll be fine," he repeated, securing the radio back onto his belt. "There's nothing out here, remember?" Emma rolled her eyes. "Just don't forget to call in to the station when you need a ride home."
As if she'd forget.
* * *
The woods weren't all that much fun with Graham, but without him, they seemed to give off far too much casual menace for her liking. There were creatures everywhere, rustling, chirping, hooting, whistling. And not one of them was that damn dog. | 9c57c16a3bee493e84f913fdefe3f9a0 | ['6326ba93298a403ca0df42a5be12890b'] | She just waved a hand, to let him know he was off the hook, and headed for the chest behind the couch that housed the extra linens and blankets, lifting the lid to search for a spare down comforter. "You can stay. Just don't touch anything."
She looked up to see if he was okay with her caveat, to notice that he'd naturally gravitated towards the ancient turntable set in the corner, beneath a poster of Bob Dylan and Suze Rotolo trudging through the snowy streets of New York arm in arm, practically radiating youth and promise. He was already pulling the records from their shelf to examine the covers.
"What did I just say?" Emma grumbled, as she pulled out the blanket she'd been searching for, letting the lid fall shut with a thud. He startled at the sound, but didn't pause in his thorough examination of the record collection.
"You're a Dylan fan?" he asked, his eyes lightening with some measure of interest, indicating the poster, and Emma rolled her eyes, dropping the blanket on the couch to make her way over to stand beside him.
"August, that's the guy who I'm renting this place from, is. All of this," she waved a hand to indicate the poster, turntable and shelves of records, "Belongs to him. He left it all here when he got married. I'd never even _seen_ a vinyl record until I moved in here." She paused a moment, considering the implications of being honest with this guy. "But yeah, I must've played every album on that shelf at least a hundred times since. I guess you could say I'm a fan."
His lifted his eyes from the cover of an album that hailed from the oft-maligned Christian phase, to meet Emma's gaze. " _Don't Think Twice, It's All Right_ is my favorite song in the universe," he confessed, indicating the poster. There was a flash of hesitation in his features, as if he wasn't sure if he should continue, Emma's eyes drawn to his Adam's apple as he swallowed hard. "My Mum used to play it around the house a lot when we were little. It's been my favorite song my whole life."
Emma didn't miss the plural there. _We._ A sibling. Maybe more than one. But there was something else too, something deeper than nostalgia teasing at the end of his words. Something like... regret, almost. Loss. Maybe that.
"Mine is _Boots of Spanish Leather_." The admission tripped off her tongue before she could stop it. She winced, closing her eyes as she waited for the inevitable comment on how _sentimental_ it was, but to her surprise, it never came. She opened her eyes instead to find Killian examining her rather closely, much in the same way he had the album covers.
He cocked his head to the side, holding her gaze for a long moment before speaking at last. "I think you and I have more in common than you think, Emma Swan." Before Emma could even hope to consider that too closely, he indicated the last record he had pulled from the shelf, the one with the cover with mirrored the poster tacked to the wall. "May I?" Emma only nodded, watching as he crouched down, lifted the turntable lid, and slipped the record from its sleeve with reverent fingers. After a moment, the upbeat fingerpicking of an acoustic guitar filled the room, followed by Dylan's husky drawl, advising _"Well, it ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe."_
They sat in silence as the song played out, Killian on the floor by the turntable, Emma having retreated back to the couch, both physically and mentally. She wasn't quite sure what to do with this quiet, thoughtful Killian Jones. She hadn't really considered there might be someone of substance hidden beneath that cocky, and yes, _attractive,_ exterior, and now that she'd seen glimpses of one, she wasn't sure exactly how to handle it. Cocky Killian she could fend off with her trademark snark. Quiet Killian was a whole different kettle of fish.
As Emma thoughts warred silently from her position on the couch, Killian leaned forward to lift the needle before the next song could begin, sitting back on his haunches as he placed the record carefully back in its sleeve, tucking it back onto the shelf.
He turned his gaze to Emma, whose thoughts ebbed away as their eyes locked, before he walked over and plopped down on the couch beside her, bouncing up and down on the cushions, like a middle aged mom in a mattress store. "A little cramped," he admitted, stretching out his legs to indicate the length discrepancy. "But I daresay the alternative is out of the question?" There was hopeful edge to his voice, but just enough bravado to give her the courage to knock him back.
"Not a chance." He grinned anyway, leaning over to pull the comforter across, wrapping himself in it like he was the filling of a fluffy white burrito. As he closed his eyes, nuzzling into the fabric with his cheek as he savored the warmth, Emma could not deny it made for an adorable tableau. A thought which had her on her feet in a split second, backing away towards her room.
"Bathroom is down the hall to the left. My room is to the righ-." Her cheeks colored as she cursed internally. "Not that you'll need to know that. There's more blankets in the chest if you get cold, and there's milk and juice in the fridge, if you get thirsty."
"No kiss goodnight, Swan?" The smirk was still there, but it was a half-hearted attempt. He knew the answer already.
Instead of responding, Emma just retreated to her room, slamming the door between them before she could do something stupid, like actually realize maybe he wasn't entirely the cocky idiot she'd thought he was.
* * * |
ca77c2ad18034092b4c66b6877996b3f | ['63272bfcefd24044aa6176e37af93a52'] |
1. Deer in the headlights
Pulling into the parking lot on my black Harley Davidson XR1200, I looked up at the building in front of me, dreading my first day at yet another high school. I'd spent more than my fair share of time in High School, and the routine had gotten old years ago. I'd stopped aging at 17 years old, which was early for my kind. So I got the privilege of repeating the same two years of high school for the rest of my life. Which could be forever.
Since I was currently 27 years old, I was on my 5th repeat of Junior year. I was still trying to figure out how best to convince my sister that it would be beneficial to stay in Forks for an extra year after I graduated and pretend I was one of those kids that didn't know what they wanted to do in life so they took a year off before going to college. I didn't think it would work, Lyra hated staying in one place for too long, but it was worth a try.
Sometimes it was a bit lonely. Lyra discourages me from getting too close to anyone, and I'd learned years ago that she was right. So I didn't put much effort into making friends anymore. A few acquaintances here and there didn't hurt, though. Thankfully, most humans avoided me. Whether it was because they subconsciously sensed that I wasn't one of them, or because my personality was anything but delightful most of the time, I wasn't sure.
Heads turned from every direction as I drove my bike through the lot, looking for a secluded spot to park. When I found one, I turned the key and stepped off the bike, taking my helmet off to let my long blond hair fall loosely. Once the helmet was off, I realized how many people were watching me. As soon as I would meet their eyes, they'd quickly look away. I hung the helmet on the handle bars and started walking toward the building labeled, "front office".
Why Forks High School couldn't all be one building like every other school, I didn't know. It didn't seem practical to me, but I guess the change was kind of nice. I hadn't realized how chilly it was outside until I walked into the warmth of the building. Our last home in California was warmer.
"Hi, I'm Roan Wolfe. It's my first day." I said to the older man behind the desk. He looked up at me from the newspaper he was reading.
"Ah, yes. I was informed you'd be here today. I'm Mr. Lewis. This is your schedule and a map of the school grounds. Your first class is English 3 with Mrs. Shively. Just head right out of the doors and it's the second building." I took the papers he handed me and gave him a small smile to be polite.
"Thanks." I said as I turned and headed out the door to my first class.
The class was already full by the time I got there, even though it hadn't started yet. I picked an empty seat near the back and plopped down next to a group of girls that stared incredulously at me with wide eyes, like I'd grown a third arm or something. Judging by the bows in their hair and the matching uniforms, I guessed they were cheerleaders. A few of them were pretty, so when they continued to stare I ripped a piece of paper from my notebook and scribbled my phone number on it. I folded it up and tossed it onto one of their desks. After they unfolded it and saw the number, I brought my hand up to my face and mouthed, "Call me," with a wink. A few of them gasped and they all turned away from me to whisper among themselves until the teacher walked in and started class. I laughed to myself.
I paid attention long enough to know when I was being introduced to the class and to get my books, and then I zoned out. School had become so easy that I didn't bother paying attention anymore. I still passed all my exams. I decided to spend the rest of the hour drawing in my sketchbook. I had at least 20 other sketchbooks at home completely filled with my drawings. When you have forever at your disposal, it leaves you with a lot of downtime. I spent a lot of that time drawing.
About halfway through the class, I heard Mrs. Shively's voice get louder and I tuned in to hear her assign the homework and give us the rest of class to do it. Apparently she decided while we were all reading that she wanted some air and got up to open the window to my left. As soon as the fresh air started blowing into the room, I tensed up. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed the smell before. A sweet yet musky scent reached my nose, something I'd never smelled before but was absolutely certain it was supernatural and VERY dangerous. I noticed slight differences whenever the breeze would shift, telling me there was more than one of them, and they were close. My guess was they were students here. I had no idea what they were, and I wondered how a pack of them would react to having one of my kind in their territory. | 900908eb5db2416c8322dfad90ed6228 | ['63272bfcefd24044aa6176e37af93a52'] | "You have no idea... How terrifying that was, Lyra. They didn't look happy to see me in their territory, what do you think would have happened if they decided to do something about it? You can't make those kinds of mistakes. From now on, I'm going to be involved in the decision making." I stared at her until I was sure she got my point. She sighed in defeat.
"Alright. Fine." I went back to eating, blocking out the memories from the day. Lyra dried her hands on the towel on the counter and walked over to sit down across from me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put you in that position. I know how it felt when I first smelled Dr. Cullen. I can't imagine what it was like for you. But seriously, I don't think we have anything to worry about. Dr. Cullen approached me on his own to introduce himself and make sure there wouldn't be any trouble. He wouldn't do that if he was going to make a move against us. But I'll try talking to him again tomorrow to make sure we are on the same page." I nodded while I chewed, accepting her apology and agreeing with her plan.
"I think I'm going to take tomorrow off. There's just been a lot going on lately and I need a day to myself." She nodded in understanding. The last year had been especially difficult for both of us since our parents died. It didn't help that our last location in California had ended badly, which was why we'd had to move so late into the school year. The thought that we were going to have another repeat of that irritated me.
"Okay. Whatever you need." She reached over the table and put her hand on mine for a moment before going back to doing the dishes. That seemed like the end of the conversation for the moment, so when I was done, I set my dishes next to her on the counter and started unpacking the boxes that were piled up in the corner. It was only our second day in the house, and despite not having too many belongings, we still hadn't finished unpacking. I carefully stacked the rest of our dishes in the cupboards and moved onto the food we had decided to bring with us. It only took me a few minutes to unpack the kitchen. I was so used to moving that it didn't seem as daunting as it did the first few times. It helped that all of our belongings fit easily into Lyra's Suburban and the small trailer that we haul behind it.
When I was finished in the kitchen, I moved to the living room to unpack all of our movies, cds, and video games around the entertainment center. These were the only things that we really held onto for any length of time. It was always common for our family to gravitate toward the TV after a long day and just hang out together. Lyra followed me into the living room when she was done with the dishes and started helping me unpack. I finally decided I needed more answers before I could move on.
"What are they?" I asked. She glanced at me while putting an old CD on the shelf.
"The Cullen's? He said they were Vampires." I raised my eyebrows in surprise.
"Vampires..." She nodded. "So, that's an actual thing. Not just in bad horror movies?"
"Yeah. But they're not like what you've seen in the movies. He didn't give me a full run-down but they're different. Not only from the stereotype but also from other real Vampires. The Cullen's choose to survive off of animal blood, instead of human blood." She explained. I scoffed, hardly convinced that this little bit of information should make me feel better.
"Well, that's hardly comforting. Considering we're half animal." She rolled her eyes at me.
"Roan, I really don't think we are going to have a problem with them. Dr. Cullen is the leader of their coven- or, family as they call it- and he assured me that he didn't want any conflict. They would leave us in peace as long as we did the same for them." I thought about that for a moment, wondering if they were all sitting at home discussing the same thing right now. "What were they like? The ones you saw."
"Well, I didn't speak to them. And only one of them bothered to say anything to me. Sort of."
"What do you mean?"
"Uh, the smaller girl. Alice. She sat next to me in the last class I was in. I think she was trying to apologize for freaking me out but I was too far gone to care." I stared at the DVD I was holding without really seeing it, thinking back to that last class and feeling really embarrassed about how I had acted. When I analyzed everything she did now, I couldn't find any real reason to fear her. Meanwhile, Lyra was looking at me like she was waiting for me to realize something. I groaned.
"Yes, I know. I overreacted and made a fool of myself. Thanks for reminding me." She laughed and shoved me playfully.
"And do you wanna know what the worst part was?"
"What?"
"I lost my touch." She looked confused for a moment.
"Huh?" |
a3b85874f3ca42f3a2cabd1bbb45481f | ['6337f823e8ad467f89216139c99ddec2'] | "YES. I'D LIKE TO GET FRIES FOR THIS... HUMAN." He gestured towards you with disgust. Grillby nodded, gazing at you somewhat lustfully. You shivered at his creepiness, and he took that as a wrong idea.
"I see... You making her public?" The fire monster leaned towards you, his hand brushing against your neck.
Papyrus growled, "NO. SHE'S MINE." You were quite surprised when you heard him say she instead of it.
Grillby frowned, "You're no fun," He winked at you. "Hope to see you soon, hot stuff." You wrinkled your nose.
"HOW DISGUSTING! I, THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS, WILL NOT ACCEPT BEHAVIOR LIKE-" He started rambling. Oh gosh, he'd probably go on for hours.
Hesitating at first, you touched his spine again. He stopped talking and his cheekbones flushed. "NYEHHH!! STOP TOUCHING ME Y-YOU BRAT." You pursed your lips, feeling eyes burning at the back of your neck.
You looked his Sans, he was sweating buckets and the white pinpricks disappeared from his eye sockets. He grabbed your hand and his brothers, and all three of you were floating through darkness.
You laid on the floor, muttering things that made no sense. You felt lightheaded, and the two skeletons bickering loudly wasn't helping.
"WHY DID YOU HAVE TO TELEPORT?"
"i didn't want to ruin your reputation, b-boss."
"GAHH! GO BACK TO YOUR ROOM YOU USELESS IDIOT!"
"...okay."
There were footsteps. You closed your eyes, enjoying the darkness that was coming over you.
"W-WAIT! GET THE HUMAN!!" It was too late, Sans had already left.
"DAMNIT." | 7ecd64de68b04fa18c7a557fe7622e3c | ['6337f823e8ad467f89216139c99ddec2'] |
1. Skele Household
"Hey, y/n. Give me a hand please?" Your coworker, Maya asked with pleading eyes. You nod and grab the other pan from her left hand, quickly placing it onto the counter. The couple sitting a few feet away from you were staring.
You tried your hardest to avoid their piercing stares. Everyone treated you as if you were a freak. You used a nice and cozy sketchbook to write, or speak since you knew not everyone has learned sign language. You also drew in your free time in the park, just to look normal. It was hard to be normal in your case because of your throat injury and everyone knowing you were homeless. Well, all your coworkers and friends knew.
'I'm closing at 9.' You signed and Maya smiled softly. "I'll get going then. Have a nice weekend y/n!" You signed a quick 'you too' then watched her leave.
"Hey (y/n), I know you usually work in the front and all, but could you deliver a pizza really quick?" Ryder placed a pizza gently into your hands. You glare at him playfully but accept the job anyway. Ryder was your best friend since childhood, and it still surprises you that the friendship has lasted for a long time. You had no complaints there though, he was the best.
You head out the back and use one of the cars the pizzeria had rented, with a GPS and all. You grab the ticket from the pizza bag and type in the address. You sucked at driving even though you had a car back in high school. Don't ask what happened to it.
' _Wow._ ' You thought as you pulled up to your destination. It was a big, brick house with a ginormous driveway. The front steps were decorated with different colored bells; orange, cyan blue, cerulean blue, red, white and black. It was an odd choice of decor but it fit the house in an odd way. You rang the doorbell, the pizza burning the palm of your hand as you waited for someone to answer the door.
"FOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!" A short, energetic skeleton legitimately yanked the door open and grabbed the pizza from your hands, leaving you outside with no money. Welp.
"sorry about that. he just ate a few brownies." A taller skeleton greeted you, a lazy grin on his face. You would never understand why some humans hated monsters. They were so kind! You pulled out your sketchbook and pencil and wrote 'It's okay.' His first expression was realization.
"don't worry, I understand sign language. im kind of friends with a kid that's mute." You would've squealed if you were able to. You were so glad that he said mute. Another rare person who doesn't treat you like a freak. He handed you $30.
'Sir, the pizza is $20.' You signed, you didn't want to be dishonest and keep his money.
"oh, no. that's my tip! keep it." He smirked at you, making you blush lightly. What else would it be. You almost face palmed.
'Thank you.' You waved goodbye as you walked to the car. He was nice. You could hear the energetic skeleton shout, "COME ON BROTHER! THE OTHERS ARE COMING SOON." Oh. They were brothers. That's adorable!
When you returned to the pizza place, it was already 7:03 PM. Ryder was cleaning up tables and the couple from earlier was no longer there. Not a surprise. Ryder lifted his head and jumped, you stick your tongue out.
"You spooked the heebiejeebies out of me y/n." Yep, this is why he was your bestie.
'My apologies, dear sir.' You bowed mockingly.
"Do you want to get tickled?" He walked towards you slowly and dramatically and you backed away from him in playful fear.
'You wouldn't do that.' You signed nervously.
"Yeah," Ryder shrugged, "True." Wow, he was letting you go that easily? You loosened up but watched his every move as you walked into the kitchen. You two were the only ones left, but he'd be staying a bit longer to fix the oven. You were slightly jealous of Ryder's balance in life.
You were about to leave when you crashed into another skeleton; a group of them. You immediately signed an apology, and that's when you noticed the familiar orange hoodie and the adorable little blue skeleton. 'Hi again!' You smiled at them and the short blue one ran up to you.
He got on his knees and clasped his hands together in a pleading sort of way. You glanced at Ryder who currently was laughing his ass off due to the skele in front of you. "DEAR HUMAN, I AM TERRIBLY SORRY FOR STEALING YOUR PIZZA BAG EARLIER, SO I SAVED A BROWNIE FOR YOU AS MY APOLOGY." Aw, he's too sweet!
'Thank you-' Uh. What's his name?
As if he read your mind he spoke, "OH, I'M BLUEBERRY! MY BROTHER IS ORANGE, WELL OBVIOUSLY HE'S ORANGE BUT THAT'S WHAT WE CALL HIM, THE TALL AND SPIKY ONE IS EDGE, THE RED MEAN LOOKING ONE IS... MEAN AND RED AND THOSE TWO ARE PAPYRUS AND SANS!"
You heard a group of hellos and one or two growls. 'It's nice to meet you all.' You smiled warmly and hugged Blueberry for the gift. You heard a small gasp but ignored it when he hugged you back.
"ORANGE, CAN SHE COME OVER FOR THE GAMMEEE?" Blueberry gave his brother his best puppy eyes. How could you resist that face? Orange agreed, stretching and yawning.
"i'll drive." Orange looked like he was waiting for something. |
fe394bac9956470da0510e543e40b94e | ['633e1a6197664bb0b7ab00780a2ef86a'] | _ He did as she requested, removing the lid open and finding a rather interesting item inside. A wave of sudden warmth spread through his face and he knew his cheeks were most likely blushed by now. Among the four white walls from the inside of the box there was an enthusiastically racy red lingerie, covered with lace and surely not large enough to leave much for the imagination. _
_ “Wow…” he exhaled, a smirk dancing on his lips as he did so. “Oh my God.” _
_ “Liked it?” she raised an eyebrow at him teasingly. _
_ “You bet I did,” Ethan swallowed hard before closing the box quickly and opening his locker once again to storage it there. “How the hell you expect me to focus on work after that?” _
_ “I don’t. That’s the fun of it,” she stated proudly. “But you probably should find a way,” her hand gently tapped on his chest with an open palm twice. Shortly after, she walked right past him towards the hallway in order to begin another day at the E.R. _
_ “You’re gonna kill me like that.” _
_ “I suggest you don’t die before tonight,” she looked at him from over her shoulder with a smug. _
_ With his gaze fixated on the slight sway of her hips, he observed as she disappeared from the locker room. She was a knockout and he would gladly stay down at the boxing ring canvas as many times as she’d want him to. _
He was much more confident by the time he went past the quarantine security and walked towards Leanne. She was sat in front of Ariel’s gurney, as he had guessed. Her eyes instantly glowing in the middle of shocked expression as she saw him right there.
“How did you get in here? I thought Reddick ordered all-” she never had a chance to finish her sentence, he trailed her off with better news.
“I talked to General Hutchens. The vaccine’s on the way.” he remarked triumphantly.
4. Chapter 4
“Nothing I say will make you change your mind, right?” Ethan stared into those beautiful hazel eyes fishing for any signs of hesitation. Leanne shook her head to the sides slowly, not breaking visual contact and also indicating she wouldn’t back out. “Thought so, I just- wanted to to be sure.”
“Worried, now?” she questioned after observing how unhinged he seemed while speaking this last sentence.
“No,” he forced a scoff. “I know that you’ll respond well to the vaccine and we’ll be able to produce a cure from that. You’ll be the savior of everyone.”
His attempt to humour her had a positive reception, she laughed honestly for the first time in 48 hours. “I think I needed that.”
He smiled back at her. It was good to see that side of Leanne he was used to, the one that never failed to giggle at all the stupid jokes he made. Underneath all the fear and the complications of this outbreak, the woman he had fallen hopelessly for was still there.
Jesse arrived about the time the army doctor moved from his folding chair placed in front of the gurney where brunette patient was sat. He organized the things necessary to inject her with the vaccine while his ear curiously picked up bits of the two best friends’ conversation going on a few feet away from him. The nurse was obviously worried about the risks involved in this insane procedure. Mama did his best to convince the ill doctor that she should let it go, there were other less dangerous ways to try and solve the situation.
“...there’s no one waiting at home for me, Jesse,” Leanne tried to justify the reason behind her choice of taking this chance. She glared at Ethan, only to find him already gazing at her. At that point, she knew he was remembering a similar conversation they once had.
_ “Sure, but Mrs. Montgomery why are you so bothered that I left my kitchen window open?” Leanne was starting to get irritated with the older woman on the other side of the line that kept rambling on and on about how her pet had gone missing. “Your cat isn’t here. I can as-” _
_ “Uh, Leanne?” Ethan’s confused voice coming from the hallway caused her to get up from bed and meet him under the bathroom’s door frame. _
_ “Nevermind, I’ll get him to you…” she put an end to the call. _
_ The light green tiles of the bathroom floor were covered in toothpaste with little pawn marks serving as the primary evidence of what caused this. Her towels were also pushed down the ground, and a long line of toilet paper was thorn and crossing the room, directly on top of the white cream mess. A loud meowing coming from the other side of the wall broke the spell that got both doctors to stare at the mess with wide eyes. _
_ “Is that a cat?” the man asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. _
_ “My neighbor’s,” she turned to him and remarked with snark. “Apparently Mr. Whiskers climbed up my window and somehow ended destroying my bathroom.” _
_ “Looks like he made a grand escape through the air vent,” he stated, noticing that the meowing hadn’t ceased. _
_ The pair followed the escalating in volume noise through the hallway, trying to pinpoint the exact location of the animal. It had been quite amusing to her how mission focused Ethan was on finding the cat. She would walk behind him, trying to cover her chuckles at his seriousness over such a silly event. _ | c204dcda117346f790c26c73dcf3b2bc | ['633e1a6197664bb0b7ab00780a2ef86a'] | “Oh,” Leanne stated surprised, still absorbing the information. One corner of her mouth twitched up in a half smile and she quickly glanced over the man on her side, who at this point had lowered his head to chuckle. “Well let me offer you some advice of my own then. First of all, don’t listen to anything Jesse has to say.” She watched as her best friend flashed her an annoyed look. “Just go talk to her, remember to be kind and respectful. You’re a decent guy, Dr. Dixon. I’m sure she’ll say yes.”
The male resident smiled in gratitude, he nodded a couple times in appreciation of such nice words. “Thank you, Dr. Rorish.”
“Alright, now let’s get you all to work,” she commanded, motioning to dissipate the little crowd of nurses that had gathered around the trio.
“Residents, with me, please.” Dr Willis tapped on the front desk twice before making his way down the hall. Both Noa and Elliott followed the older man’s steps.
“What about you, anyway? Big plans for Valentine’s Day?” Sugar Bear turned to face Noa as he questioned her.
“I’m working late today. Assistant Team Doctor matters.” She replied, trying to sound confident. Noa tended not to care about spending time alone, not even on day like this one. This year however, the prospect of solitude scared her more than she’d ever admit. Perhaps it was better to drown herself in work in order to forget she had no companion for this holiday.
“Looser,” her friend’s snarky voice caused her to widen her eyes at him. She watched as Elliot grinned at her before shifting his focus to the patient in whose room they had just entered. Looks like she became the joke now.
Sugar Bear couldn’t hide his excitement when Eloise agreed to go out for dinner with him later that evening. The young doctor spent most of his shift daydreaming about the woman in question. His mind ran multiple scenarios on how to maintain an interesting conversation flowing between them throughout the date. He had also prepared himself in case a kiss happened in order to close the night the best way possible.
A rather long procedure left him with no time to go home before the so long expected date. He had to shower and make the necessary preparations in the hospital. Luck was on his side, he could tell that by noticing the kind of clothes he kept on his locker. They consisted of a light blue dress up shirt and a pair of jeans, slightly fancier than the things he’d usually wear to work everyday.
The last touch was spraying some of the cologne a friend once brought him from France a while ago. One spray on the neck, a couple more on each of his wrists. Maybe some extra sprayings were necessary too; smelling nice was the perfect way to cause a good first impression. It certainly wouldn’t do any harm, it was french cologne after all.
Not even Mario’s weird outburst; slapping on the locker’s door and storming out of the room without giving him any sort of explanation after they briefly spoke while he was finishing getting ready was enough to kill his good mood. Tonight would be a remarkable night, he was sure of that. Now all he needed to do was wait for Eloise; they had agreed on meeting at the stairwells in front of Angels’ entrance, solely to avoid people gossiping about their date.
Elliot waited and waited for what it seemed like an eternity, and yet, no sign of Eloise. He called her a couple of times but her phone was out of service. He even went back inside to ask the second shift chief of nurses if the blonde woman was still there, seemed like no one had a clue where she went. Getting back to the stairs, Elliot sat on one of the steps, turning his gaze to the horizon he sighed sadly. He was just stood up on Valentine’s Day.
“Sugar Bear, what are you still doing here?” a familiar voice drifted his attention to stare and the red head woman standing right next to him. She carried a couple of books and a side bag that looked particularly heavy. “Where’s Eloise?”
“I guess she changed her mind.” Although his answer was short, it wasn’t enough to hide the sorrow in his voice.
Noa stared at him, feeling genuinely bad for the man. She didn’t know what to say though; the guy was all dressed up, smelling nice - even though perhaps it was a bit too much - sitting all alone on the street on one of the most magical nights of the year.
“Hey,” the woman’s hand rested on the other resident’s shoulder. “Let me buy you a drink.” When Elliot glared up at her with a confused expression, she felt the need to explain. “I’m not asking you out, by the way. But truth is; I could use a wingman for the night.”
Sugar Bear’s lips curled up in a smirk. “I’ll accept that.”
“Come on, I know just the right place. Maybe we’ll both meet some interesting girls tonight,” she lightly punched his shoulder blade in a playful gesture. Elliot got up and followed her down the stairs. Soon they were walking together towards a bar located in a street’s corner, just a couple of blocks away from Angels.
“Noa, you’re a really good friend.” The tenderness in Sugar Bear’s voice showed he was quite happy to have her near to turn around his night once again.
“I know.” she replied with a chuckle, opening the door of the bar soon after.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Feedback is always welcomed!
4. Chapter 4
**PART FOUR - LEANNE & ETHAN** |
5d888abc5b5f4ee2b40d29b61fcb2cce | ['63430da2f35545c98231974b80bca16f'] |
Elevator AU
**Author's Note:**
> So I'm British and I'm gonna write 'elevator' as 'lift' a lot 'cuz it's quicker and that's what we call them here. Also, this hasn't been beta'd so feel free to throw mistakes and possible corrections at me :)
_“Go to college, _they said. _It’ll be the best years of your life, _they said. So far, it’s just been stress with a side-order of anxiety. I’d like a refund please.”
Eddie was not a happy boy, no siree. Three essays in one fucking week! He swore his professors were trying to weed out the weak-willed. ‘Well, jokes on you fuckers; I’ve got determination in spades.’
Currently, the only forces keeping him upright were caffeine and pure stubbornness. At least he could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel – he just had the one essay to hand in and then it’d all be over. You know, until the next one … but Eddie was choosing not to think about that lest he break down into a puddle of hysterical tears.
“I swear to god, if I get anything below a B heads will be fucking rolling. Starting with that loud motherfucker next door.” His angry muttering was met with a few confused, slightly disturbed looks but he payed them no mind. He didn’t have the time; he was currently speeding his way over to his biology professors’ office to hand in his last essay and he only had an hour left to do so. He weaved his way around a few groups of people loitering around and smacked his shin into a table.
Limping slightly, he headed over to the heavy double doors and struggled to pull one open before it finally gave way and he continued to hobble on down the hall towards the lift. There was already about six people waiting for it when he eventually pulled up in front of the doors, doubled over and gasping.
“Dude, you okay?” He heard from above him and he flapped his hand feebly in the general direction of the voice.
“Just… peachy.” He wheezed out, fumbling in his pocket for his inhaler and taking a deep puff of it. He straightened up in time to see the lift doors open and stood aside slightly to let the others in first. It was a bit of a tight fit, but they all managed to pack themselves in – albeit with some uncomfortable touching (he swore he felt someone’s hand brush against his ass).
He breathed a deep sigh of relief as the elevator doors closed and they began to travel upwards, his breathing starting to level out and his shoulders dropping from their tensed-up form. Eddie then took stock of the people he was currently imitating sardines with. There were five guys and one girl, all of them silent and just glancing at each other as they shifted awkwardly in place. To Eddie’s immediate right was a tall-ass motherfucker with ridiculously big glasses and dark, curly hair. He was currently tapping his hand incessantly against the wall of the lift and shifting his leg, accidentally nudging Eddie a few times. There was another curly-haired boy behind him, clutching a textbook and glaring at the fidgeting boy. To Eddie’s left was the girl, her red hair pulled into a sloppy ponytail and a cigarette tucked behind one ear. She was humming a song under her breath and swaying slightly to the rhythm. This apparently was entrancing to the boy behind her, who couldn’t stop staring in awe, his cheeks lightly flushed pink. He was about an inch or two taller than Eddie and stocky, with gentle eyes. Next to him was another tall boy with bright eyes and a kind smile, notebook clasped in his hands. The last boy looked like he had been carved out of a solid block of ebony. He had headphones on, and his eyes closed, nodding his head to the beat.
After the third nudge from the boy to his right he was about ready to turn and yell at him when the boy himself spoke up and broke the silence.
“So, I bet you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here,” he said in a mock-mysterious voice before slamming his hand onto the emergency button. The lift came to an abrupt halt, jolting them all.
“Hey, what the fuck asshole!” Eddie rounded on him, watching the boy giggle to himself and rock back and forth on his heels.
The others were all glaring at the boy now.
“Yeah dude, why’d you do that?” The one with the notebook asked, frowning.
The annoying dick, as Eddie had dubbed him, shrugged. “It was getting a tad too silent in here, I needed to break the ice somehow.”
“And you couldn’t think of anything else?!” The angry boy behind Annoying Dick intoned. “Some of us have places to be, dickwad.”
Eddie was about to add to what the boy said but a tinny voice interrupted him.
“Hi, sorry but we’re currently servicing another lift over on the east side so it’ll be about an hour before we can get out to you. So sorry for the delay.”
Eddie froze. _An hour? One whole hour?! _
“FUCK.” He spun and punched the grinning boy in the arm.
“OW, asshole! What was that for?!”
“I have an essay due in an hour, MOTHERFUCKER.” He wound up for another punch but was stopped by a strong grip around his arm.
“Hey, hitting him isn’t going to help. Just try to calm down.” The boy with the headphones said, his voice deep and calming.
“It’ll make me feel better though.” He retorted, reluctantly dropping his arm.
Annoying Dick chuckled slightly and shook out his arm. “Gotta admit, you’ve got one hell of a right-hook for someone so short, cutie.” He smirked at him and winked.
“Short? Motherf- “
“Hey no, calm, remember?” His arm was recaptured, and he was tugged to the left. | 1505bf75aae34d289bb84487ec907cfc | ['63430da2f35545c98231974b80bca16f'] |
1. Chapter 1: Cupboard Time
**Author's Note:**
> Okay, so this was originally on fanfic.net but I decided to shift it over. I've been without a laptop for a while so I haven't updated it in a while :') I probably will, but not too soon as I'm currently playing catch up with uni work - who knew procrastination can come back to bite you in the ass??
> Also, I've left all my drafts back home around 5 hours away and I'm not gonna get them back until christmas break :') but as soon as I do I'm gonna work on chapter 5, so there's that. I'm gonna leave that real vague though - don't want to make any promises that people hold me to.
> Also, I shift between movie and book canon constantly because I wrote this in between lessons in A level and I didn't have either at hand; so the canon here is basically anything that I can remember. Very sorry if that bugs you but you'll get over it.
> This is un-beta'd too, so if there's any mistakes feel free to ream me for it in the comments and I may take notice of them and change it.
> Anyway, I'll shut up now :)
> Oh, 'words like this' are in their heads - I don't know to italicize words :')
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Update: Gonna go ahead and italicize those thoughts now.
* * *
Harry had strange dreams sometimes.
When he was little, his dreams transported him to a dark, cold room not unlike his cupboard. In the room, there was a man. He was always dirty and really thin. He didn't seem to notice much, either. But the first time Harry dreamed about him, the man looked up. And the smile he wore completely transformed his face; it no longer looked tortured but full of hope, of life.
"James?" He whispered that first time. Poor Harry just shook his head; he had no idea who this James was.
"No, I'm Harry. Just Harry." He said sweetly, holding out his hand. The ragged man just sat there and stared at him for a moment before the tears started to run down his face. There was something heart-wrenchingly beautiful about seeing him cry to Harry. It seemed as if each of his tears carried with them a small piece of his sorrow, until his smile finally held some happiness.
"No, of course you are. Harry... My little Pronglet. I haven't seen you since you were this big." And he held his palms out, demonstrating how big Harry was when he last saw him.
"How do you know, mister? And what's a pronglet?" The widening of his adorable green eyes seemed to have lit a spark in the man, for you couldn't tell that he was so gaunt at a glance; he seemed almost healthy again.
"I'm your godfather, Harry. Merlin, it's been- Hang on; how are you here? How did you get here?!"
"I-I don't know, sir. I was asleep in my cupboard, and then I was here." Poor Harry didn't know what had caused the alarm in the man's voice; after all, it was only a dream.
"P-Pardon me, mister, but isn't this only a dream?"
"A dream? Oh, Harry, I really wish it was; you have no idea..." And then the man and the room started to faded away. This saddened Harry as he didn't want the man to leave; he was only the person who hadn't looked at him like something that you found at the bottom of a pond.
"No, no! Harry, please!" The man was crying again. This time, though, the tears weren't beautiful. They were sad, so sad. They made him cry, too, huge tears.
"Please, just- just a bit more time, please!" And the a harsher voice spoke up from beyond the darkness of the rapidly blurring cell - for Harry knew that that was where he found himself.
"Quiet, Black. Or do you want to see the Dementors again that desperately?" Harry didn't like this new voice; it seemed to scare the kind man. He tried to yell at the person, but found he couldn't speak. He looked down at his hands, but couldn't see them; he supposed he was waking up now. And that was a thought that filled him with dread.
_No, I want to stay._
He clenched his eyes shut, and when he next opened them he was staring at the dusty ceiling of his cupboard.
* * *
A month or two later, Harry went to bed and awoke to find himself in the cell again. The man was still there, only this time he was pacing back and forth, saying something about killing a rat.
"I don't like rats, they have scaly tails. A girl at school brought one in once."
Harry's sentence seemed to have startled the man, for he let out a yell and whirled around. Upon seeing Harry, his tired and sunken face split open into a genuine smile that seemed to de-age him by quite a few years.
"Harry! You're here again!"
"Hello again. I'm sorry, sir, but I still don't know your name."
"Oh, um- it's Sirius. Sirius Black."
"Huh, You have a weird name." Harry's face broke into a smile, which only served to further widen Sirius'.
"Cheeky bugger. You can call me Padfoot if you want."
"Why would I do that?" Harry's voice held that curious lilt to it that all children seem to have before they reach a certain age. It seemed to bring forth a mischievous spark in Sirius, because he winked and in place was - |
67efe761caee4a60a14c91ad4a694670 | ['63701b4aac014864bb7f6262fa7aae87'] | Naturally, Mitch’s eyes float to Auston’s, but his boyfriend is still unmoving, even though his eyes glare daggers into the stranger’s back.
Any other night Mitch knows that Auston would be following after the guy, probably to exchange unpleasant words and force an apology. He’s not much of a fighter, but Auston’s never been scared to speak up, using his body as an advantage to warn off others from trying to take him out back for a round.
Mitch has never been fond of his boyfriend’s confrontational manner, but knowing that now, because of their fight, he wont say anything, makes something settle unpleasantly in his throat.
He knows he’s being ridiculous, but he wonders what else Auston would ignore, and it really fucking hurts, thinking that his boyfriend couldn’t care less.
-
Auston is tense like a pulled string and their less than stellar start of the night has him leaving Mitch at Marty’s side the second they pass ‘heys’ so that he can head off towards the bar.
He needs at least two shots if he wants to put on a happy front right now.
“Cheers!” Willy hollers. He’s more than happy to match Auston drink for drink, making him feel less pathetic as they clink their glasses before each go, even though the bar top is barely visible amongst alcohol, arms, napkins, and empty plates.
“This place is a dive,” Auston yells over the music. He’s barely been there for ten minutes and already his hands are sticky with God-only-knows what.
“I know,” Willy smiles back, “I love it.”
Auston cant argue with that- birthday boy’s wishes and all.
Even with people pressing in at all sides, they still stay there, hovering for a disgusting amount of time. Anything is better than the section of booths they have roped off for them, though, because he knows Mitch is probably there, fake smile alerting everyone of the shitty-fucking-things Auston said to him today.
“You guys good?” Will asks, when he notices Auston’s gaze glued to their tables.
He’s ready to unload it all when he sees the concern starting to flood his linemate’s eyes. He can’t do that to Willy, especially on his birthday.
“We’re okay,” he promises, even as the pit in his stomach grows and festers under the lie.
-
It doesn’t take long for something bad to happen in the bar, and really, Auston isn’t surprised, with the shithole they’re in.
He just never expects Marty to be the one who pulls his eyes from the douchebag that’s being dragged, screaming and bloody, to the exit by a group of bouncers.
“Mitchy,” Marty says in explanation of his presence, almost frantic and more than a little out of breath.
Auston shrugs, “What about him?”
Knowing Mitch, he probably had one too many, or tripped over something, or is somewhere off embarrassing himself.
The disbelieving look he gets from Marty from his callus response makes the annoyance he’s feeling triple.
“What? I can’t have one night where I don’t have to watch his back? He’s a grown up, he can take care of himself. I’m not his keeper.” The words feel terribly satisfying, especially against the shock on his teammate’s faces.
He tosses down the last of his drink with a wave for another to the bartender.
“Auston,” Willy whispers, unbelieving, just loud enough to be heard. He sounds hurt and it pisses Auston off more. Sometimes his teammates like to forget that Mitch is a fucking grown up too, thank you. He doesn’t always need someone babysitting him.
“When you pull your head out of your ass,” Marty hisses, his tone and anger shocking Auston, “come to the booth. Mitch probably needs his boyfriend right now. But you know what, you keep drinking, keep having a fun time. Way to be, man.” It’s the obvious disappointment radiating off of Matt more than anything that feels like a punch to the gut.
“Yeah, whatever,” Auston hits right back, admittedly less argumentative. His new drink is placed in front of him and that’s all that matters. He takes a gulp, then another, trying to appear less hostile than he feels under the heat of Marty’s glare.
“Dude,” Willy tries, but Auston brushes away his touch and his concern. Matt isn’t as gentle, gruffly yanking him around to face them.
“I’d punch the shit out of you right now if it wouldn’t make Mitch even more mad,” Marty tells him through gritted teeth, his statement painfully honest if the way his hands are clenching at his sides is anything to go by.
Auston still hasn’t met his gaze, but finally he lets his eyes slip up to his, a challenge more than anything.
“Do it,” he taunts, squaring up, but Willy’s hand is already against his chest and Marty’s, pushing them apart.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Matt asks, holding out a hand to keep Will from pushing him away.
Auston’s done skirting around the issue. “Me and Mitch got in a fight, but that doesn’t mean you all need to stick your necks in our shit. I’m just not going to take care of his problems tonight. Whatever it is, he can grow the fuck up and deal with it himself.”
Marty’s mouth hangs open, silent, Willy next to him just as still.
“You and Mitch?” he asks, eventually, as if in disbelief that they argue like every other couple.
Auston nods, downs the rest of his drink, and motions for a third.
“I didn’t even know anything happened,” Marty tells him. He seems honest enough in the moment, but Auston’s still annoyed that he’s coming to him to fix one of Mitch’s problems after everything that happened between them today.
“So what happened then? Why’re you even over here?” Auston asks as he pushes his drink into Willy’s hand, feeling the two he downed and his previous shots starting to give him a buzz he’s not quite sure he needs right now. | c03e2c4a5f6c4a1cae00063e1ee02976 | ['63701b4aac014864bb7f6262fa7aae87'] | “This is the best first date,” Tyler says, forcing his smile into a straight line as Jamie gags on the mush of fries in his mouth. The thing is, his eyes are earnest, honest and open in the dim lights of the runway and watch tower.
Jamie swallows, smile widening and cheeks hurting. “For me, too.”
***
Ava is wailing, Jason is googling, and Alex has two handfuls of hair, one in Jordie’s beard and one on his head, pulling the adult down to the couch in a move that looks more MMA worthy than Babysitter vs Baby.
“Daddy,” Jordie yells for help, trying to pry little fingers off without injury.
“Not Daddy, Not Daddy,” Alex chants, each word emphasized with a tug. Jordie, bless his heart, doesn't even flinch, face-down on the couch and dejected.
The sound of the computer being slammed shut joins the melody of crying kids and weary adults.
“Google abandoned us.” Jason’s hysterical tone is no help. In his arms Ava sobs, dirtying his shirt with spit and snot.
There’s handprints on the walls in spaghetti sauce, chairs overturned, and cushions no longer recognizable to the couches they match sprawled throughout the living room.
In the midst of the chaos the phone rings.
It’s almost comical how fast the room drops into silence, each ring puncturing the air and filling the depths of the room. Alex’s grip relaxes, Ava’s tears come to a halt, and Jordie and Jason share a wide-eyed look.
They’re so shocked that the call goes to voicemail, then starts ringing again, almost insistently.
“Hello?” Jason answers cautiously, half expecting some magical being’s voice to float down the line while explaining the mysteries of life and the semantics of children’s minds.
“ _Hey, it’s us._ ”
‘Jamie and Tyler,’ he mouths to Jordie, putting the phone between them so they can both hear the small voices over the line.
“How’re the kids?” Tyler asks.
They share another look, then look at the quiet bundle in Jason’s arms and to where Alex has decided to burry himself in couch cushions.
Jordie shrugs.
“Great,” he says. It’s not a lie if it’s the truth, no matter how recently it became truth.
Jason reaches towards him, hand disappearing into his hair. He pulls out a noodle.
They both give it a confused look before it's dropped to the floor, joining the other victims of the night.
“We were actually thinking of going back to my place to swim, but we would still come back for the kids in a couple hours…”
Somehow Jordie and Jason convince them that they’re golden, perfect babysitters and that they can stay the night at Tyler’s house, watching the kids till morning.
“Plan E?” Daddy asks once they’ve hung up.
“Plan E.” Jordie confirms.
***
“Common, hurry up,” Jamie whispers, hand searching in the dark for Tyler’s.
The pool lights are on with the added ambiance of the landscaping lights, but Jamie and Tyler are slinking along the fence, dropping clothes as they go. Their laughs are loud, but there’s too much built-in privacy for the neighbors to hear. That doesn't stop their hushed voices and shuffling feet as they get nearer to the pool.
“You first,” Tyler taunts, arm stuck in his shirt.
Jamie can’t help it. He throws Tyler in like that, pants around his ankles and caught in his own wardrobe.
He comes to the surface only to get hit with a wave of water from Jamie’s following cannon ball.
“I could’ve drowned,” Tyler says, fake indignantly when Jamie surfaces. Exchanged splashes lead to Jamie chasing Tyler to the shallow end and boxing him in against the edge of the pool.
“Maybe you need mouth to mouth?” He smirks, dipping down to connect their lips.
Tyler’s laughing too hard to kiss back.
***
“Google says we need that white powdery stuff,” Jason reads.
Jordie scoffs. “So now Google’s our friend?”
They’ve managed to get Alex in pajamas and asleep, the living room looking recognizable again, and Ava out of her dirtied diaper.
The baby in question blinks between the two of them, smile happy as she starts to freely pee over the bathroom counter.
Jordie and Daddy’s arguing halts when they hear the small trickle. Slowly, as if begging for a different reality, they turn towards the baby. Once what’s happening clicks, Jordie manages to pick Ava up in record time, hovering her over the sink.
Jason winces all the way until she stops peeing, then lays down a single sheet of paper towel that does absolutely nothing for the mess.
“I think the diaper was supposed to go on first,” he starts.
Jordie’s glare is enough to silence him.
***
“I love you.”
Tyler's eyes search Jamie's.
Then, “I love you too.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Next chapter will be the explanations of the "love yous" I promise :')
>
> Comments keep me writing and give me the motivation to actually want to write so to everyone who's left comments on this work thank you so much <333
>
> I'm sorry if this chapter kinda blows, but after this finals hump I'll really focus on writing so if you have anything you'd like to see come to life (especially from this series or with the kids older) I'd be more than happy to write it then! Just leave what you want to see in the comments :)
8. Chapter 8
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Starts with the explanation of the "i love you" from last chapter xx
Jamie’s not sure how to get rid of the pressure building in his chest. He’s just never felt like this before. Watching Tyler circle him, like a shark in the water, he can only beg to be captured. |
e5de333208814646b68b9736debb0b76 | ['6371d0a812254c108805298f06ef6d68'] | “Ugh, I’ve had enough.” Isabella clearly wanted to get back to her partying. “This girl is clearly not the rightful Virgin. She has some talent, true, but to lead a country? Ridiculous.” She stormed out of the room and her entourage followed her. Good. Isabella wasn’t intending to listen to the lies that this girl would have spouted.
Joan moved back to her chair facing the wall. He would have thought that that would have gotten a rise out of her, but clearly not enough of one. He soon would remedy that.
He limped closer to her. “Dear, dear… how our dreams do forsake us.” The words dripped off his tongue like honey, but he was entirely sure she wouldn’t appreciate them. Good. “Perhaps I could be persuaded to look after you. In this world you’d be lucky for a man to protect you.”
She bit back at him, “I can protect myself. I’ve got my sword.”
“Not in here you haven’t.” He walked forward until he was standing right behind her. He could feel the heat rising off her body. “Have you ever skewered a dying man, hmm? A helpless man… or boy? Would you enjoy it, do you think?” He walked around her and knelt down to her height, forcing her to look at him, “Slicing defenseless skin, piercing flesh… almost like rape.” He was right in her face. She lurched back.
“Ooh Ambassador. Is this how you treat all the ladies?” They were interrupted. By Caroline who was standing over them, glaring right at him.
He stepped back, stumbling a little as his cane caught his heel. She could tell her mother and all his careful planning would go to shit. Dammit. “I-I-I didn’t see you there.”
“Oh just get out.” Caroline ordered.
“Fuck you.” He walked towards the door, staring her down. He would not be the first to break.
“You wish you could.”
He was dragged back into the room after twenty or so minutes by Isabella’s incredibly loud shout of his name. Honestly. There were times for screaming and this wasn’t one of those times. The court was gathered in there, along with that little prat Henry, Isabella and Caroline. He gathered that there had been some animosity between the women whilst he was away, just by the feeling in the air.
“I have an announcement to make.” Caroline said, standing on Joan’s chair, presumably just because she felt like it. Isabella’s line was always one for the dramatics in everything.
“I’ve agreed to get married.”
The prat child squeaked, “My darling!”
Hang on… get married? Wait…
“Not you, Henry. Prince Christian.”
Prince Christian? Well now this was a turnup for the books. Isabella must have had a say in that considering how opposed to the union Caroline had been previously. Her using her power turned him on more than anything. He stepped up to her, “Well done, your majesty.”
She smiled at him. It was a cruel smile, that had barely any warmth to it. “That’s not all. I’ve agreed to abdicate if Joan is victorious.”
Holy shit. Abdicate! But she couldn’t! He’d lose all the power he had gained being in the palace! She couldn’t abdicate. It’d ruin things. He-he’d just have to make sure she wasn’t victorious.
“What?” The word was spat.
“I’ve given Joan command of the army. My daughter will be Queen and Joan will be the general of my forces. Simple, don’t you think?” Oh she knew she had won. Her grin told the world that.
Damn the peace treaty. Damn everything! He stormed out of the room, not giving a damn about the knighting that was happening behind him. He would get her back for this. He’d get that Joan child back for this. He’d get everyone back for this. Peace? He wanted _war_.
12. On the Battlefield - Part One
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> They're on the front lines with Joan as their commander.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Act two of the play bros! I'm really rocketing through this and it's making me happy.
They were thrown back on the front lines as soon as they got back to the encampment. Joan’s title as leader of the army seemed to rub Duncan the wrong way a bit, but there was nothing that he could do about it. There was a shortage of soldiers on the front line and what Joan was doing seemed to be working. The men fought harder and longer with the blessing of the Virgin on their side, even if some of them didn’t believe fully in the tale.
He was sitting in the grass, under a tree at daybreak, stretching out his sore muscles. The night before had been hard and he hadn’t had much sleep. Everything hurt. Hopefully, though, if the sun kept up they would have to spend the day inside. The sun at full height was dangerous to all and could sear flesh off bones. Gavin, Peter and Jonty were lazing by him. Peter and Gavin were throwing handfuls of grass at each other and it hurt him right in his heart because they were both still kids and they shouldn’t have been getting the play they needed on the edge of the battlefield. Damn this war.
He noticed Duncan striding over, looking far too angry. Oh this wasn’t good. Joan was hurrying behind him.
“Right, we attack at sundown. That’s the order. Apparently she -” He cocked a thumb at Joan, “-will bring us victory. Call me old fashioned, but I’d be more grateful if we’d been sent a platoon of fine, upstanding men.” Duncan was clearly directing his last words to them, but he really couldn’t be bothered standing and by the looks of things Jonty, Gavin and Peter couldn’t either.
“Fine. Upstanding. Men.” Duncan repeated, almost shouting, and booted Robert in the leg.
Robert gasped at him, but stood up all the same. Commanders. They were all the same. | 9ab5943b43ae4076b5027f6a2a28c5a6 | ['6371d0a812254c108805298f06ef6d68'] |
Dear readers, as you stubbornly continue to read this story, I must warn you that its contents are not pleasant to the eye. There are no sunny days, no happy endings, and the likelihood of any sort of resolution is slim. This is not your mother’s romance, or even your father’s. The course of true love does not run smooth, and neither does the course of this story. For your sake, as well as mine, I urge you to depart for smoother climbs; whether they be a digital rendition of another fanfiction, or simply somewhere far from here. Whenever it feels like things might be better; they are likely a stone’s throw from getting worse.
For Beatrice, ever and always,
Lemony Snicket.
-
Charles does not have any trouble feeling melancholic from the depths of his tent. In this case, melancholic means anything from ‘down in the dumps’ to ‘depressed’ but with a sharp turn towards the latter end of that scale because water is dripping onto his big toe.
He’s in a tent, in the middle of the Wild Woods, and it is _raining._ It is also raining inside his tent, which he suspects might be his fault. Serves him right for ‘liberating’ a tent from a passing horse and cart.
The Wild Woods is about halfway between Paltryville and Hotel Denouement. It’s taken him _weeks_ to get this far. He’s heard the saying, ‘Don’t trust a man with more pears than sense,’ but perhaps he’d have been better off if he’d heard, ‘Don’t get into a plane with a man whose lips say that he’s flying to a lavish hotel, but who’s eyes say he’s flying to an opium den in Peru.’
As such, he’d taken at least a week to get back, and the sunburn had been hellish.
But now, after bear attacks, an infestation of the Plague-Carrying Beetles, and two stomach bugs, he’s finally getting somewhere.
He doesn’t think he’s ever felt more sad or more damp. Losing most of one’s possessions, one’s partner, and having a hole in one’s tent does that to a man.
At least the Wild Woods are treating Charles well. He’s not seen hide nor hair of the Foultocna, the mythical Knifed Beast that roams the Wild Woods, which is one positive thing.
Just then, thunder rolls overhead and he swears that he hears something rustling outside.
If it’s the Foultocna, he’s not going to be happy.
“I’m warning you, I’m armed!” He lies, gripping his sleeping bag further around himself. His voice sounds shaky and he sounds anything but armed. (He’s not actually armed.)
“With what?” It’s a voice. A man’s voice. He doesn’t sound like the Foultocna (famously known for sounding like stones in a blender), but Charles doesn’t know for sure.
“A gun?” The high-pitched squeak at the end of his clause doesn’t exactly lend itself to complete legitimacy.
The man chuckles, in a low way that sounds more like a funeral dirge. “I’m not a murderer. Can I come in? It’s raining.”
Charles sighs, realises he’d probably be dead by this point if it was the Foultocna, and says, “Fine. Just d-don’t you try anything, you hear?”
Upon later reflection, he won’t be able to remember what the man looked like, aside from a blurry face and a weird wavy outline around his edges like some sort of mirage.
“I didn’t expect anyone to be out in the Wild Woods this time of night.” The man says, pulling off his dress shoes. “If I had walked any longer I might have encountered the Foultocna, and that would have been very upsetting. You’re a lifesaver, Charles.”
“Hardly.” After the month he’s had, ‘lifesaver’ is really not a term that fits.
“Charles.” The man says firmly.
Charles doesn’t know how the man knows his name. For all he knows, he could be dreaming this encounter. It doesn’t seem quite real. “What.”
“After playing a part in saving the Baudelaire orphans, and losing the love of your life, a compliment; however contrived and not completely well-deserved, is not something one should just scoff at.” Our author avatar says, hoping in future that his sentences will be better inscribed.
“Do you always speak like you’re quoting straight from a dictionary, or is that a new thing?” Charles asks, wondering why he seems to have a vague memory of the man sitting beside him. He doesn’t know how the stranger seems to know his life story, and he doesn’t want to know.
The tent is cramped and damp and not made for two.
“Dictionary in this case meaning ‘the limited vocabulary I have at my disposal’?” The man asks, lips quirked. He has a faint hint of a smile, but it’s barely there.
“You speak like you know exactly what is going on.”
“Maybe I do.”
Charles sighs, lets his head fall back onto his pillow and says, “Now I guess you’re not going to murder me in cold blood, can you shush? It’s the middle of the night and _some_ of us have more things to do than roam about in it.”
“Wallowing in self-pity isn’t helping anyone.” The man replies, tipping a handful of stones out of one of his shoes and looking at them with a bemused expression. “Do you know how to stop this? Every time I walk somewhere I get far too many stones in my shoes.”
“Not the point.” Charles says, as he definitely Does Not have time for this. “I’m not wallowing.”
(He’s definitely wallowing.)
(Quite literally in water, as the tent’s still leaking, but also figuratively.)
“You are wallowing.” The man continues, tipping another handful of stones out of his other shoe. “I think that I go on about my lost love an awful lot, but you’ve really beaten me this time. What are you without this man? Is this whole thing really worth it, Charles?” |
c2f70f31f1ff4813900ccfe98d406247 | ['63870cd1fa5640c9afa734d858889ec1'] | Family Ties
There is a slagerod in Ari’s backpack all day long.
Whenever she rummages through her bag for her notebook, her hand hesitates over the possibility of grabbing a hold of the slagerod. The letter that arrives from her cousin Savia that morning, tells Ari she’s not the only one. All their warding the night before hadn’t been enough, but then again, Savia always had a way to _know_ things…
In the letter she requests to borrow the slagerod to get an upper hand on her mother. Ari knows her Aunt, Ari knows Savia. The Burkes live a very different life than her family, but _family always helps each other_. In this specific case, Ari wants to help Savia. Perhaps this would also help to hush the slagerod’s pull on Ari for a while, before she does something stupid.
Ari has the chance to use the slagerod in Combat & Defense class.
Prof. Styles allowed everyone to practice on him for finals the next day. It takes all her remaining restraint to not do so, Prof. Styles’ call for volunteers almost sounds like a taunt to Ari. It’d be so satisfying to use it, release all the pent up power that’s calling for her. When Prof. Styles finally dismisses the class, Ari practically sprints out of there. It would see itself useful with Savia. Ari wants to use it too, but there would be other chances. _Better_ chances.
Savia and Ari meet at the Pit, exchanging their usual pleasantries and passing the holstered slagerod like a torch. A flare of justice.
The group would have to forgive Ari.
During lunch time, everyone in the study group’s chest clenches momentarily. The slagerod has left its holster. Yet, doom doesn’t come. Ari learns from Savia’s retelling of the encounter that sometimes, visual stimuli is all it takes.
The slagerod goes back to Ari’s custody.
Her penitence comes by way of having to explain why the slagerod left her side to every member of the study group individually. Phee is surprised, pressing about Ari’s reasoning and what could really elicit such a careless move. Aven’s worry, Ari is unsure what to do with. They look legitimately concerned, perhaps the first time Ari has directly seen this on a friendly face. Jay and Ryan, Ari manages to avoid direct conversation with, but she knows they know and that’s enough. Bea seems disappointed, Ari explains Savia knew what she was doing – despite her… sometimes dubious methods – and it’s back with Ari now. So it’s okay, right?
From there, the preparations to severe the slagerod are brought to overdrive. They needed to get that thing neutralized as soon as possible. | 063abad1e10f4797b7d22bddf0c5cd2d | ['63870cd1fa5640c9afa734d858889ec1'] | She didn’t look at anyone on their way out, she’d blame it on the emotional stupor of seeing her fiance after what felt like a lifetime. The carriage stopped before the Upland estate after a silent ride. Galinda hardly even looked at the man she was to marry. Her thoughts in too much turmoil to try to properly navigate this situation tonight. Fiyero held her hand tightly before they parted for the night. Once the blonde disappeared indoors, he signaled to be taken to the club. A drink would do him nicely.
At the club, the guest were busy drinking and dancing and the hero of war went unnoticed. He requested wine and took a sit at one of the tables still available. The first glass of wine was gone in a matter of minutes and he refilled his glass generously. He had to admit, he’d hoped for the night to go _differently,_ so he let the wine take care of it. The gruesome scenes from war kept replaying in the back of his mind, only appeased by the beautiful sight of his fiancee. However brief of a glimpse that had been.
There was a hand of his shoulder that brought him out of his thoughts. Upon turning, he smiled wide at the sight of Boq. His oldest friend and a scholar, due to which he’d not gone to war along with Fiyero.
“Boq, it’s been long old friend.” Fiyero said, standing to hug the shorter man.
“Too long, Fiyero. It’s so glad to see you in one piece.” Boq added with a laugh as they parted.
Another figure stood behind Boq, a woman wearing a suit. For a moment Fiyero almost attributed it to the wine but her skin was in fact, green.
“I don’t think you’ve ever met. This is my sister-in-law and future Marquise, Elphaba Thropp.”
“A pleasure, I’m Fiyero Tigulaar of the Arjiki Royals.”
The name made Elphaba hesitate for a moment, but she hid it well from her companions as she accepted Fiyero’s handshake.
“I’d heard you were at war?” Elphaba finally said as they all took a seat at the table Fiyero had been occupying.
“Freshly returned. It’s been brutal to be away for so long.”
“I can imagine. Certainly nothing civilized can come from a group of men running about with weaponry and little to no strategy.”
Everyone had _heard_ things. That’s what high society was about, even if he was also a soldier. It meant little that this was their first time coming face to face. Fiyero already didn’t like Elphaba. The three bottles of wine that followed didn’t change that either. If anything, it only added fire to the heated arguments that had developed as table conversation.
“…I still wouldn’t agree, but I presume any explanation in the matter would go to waste.” Elphaba had been idly sipping on a drink she’d ordered herself, having declined Fiyero’s wine which had been offered at the beginning of the evening.
“Who do you think you are?” Fiyero was, to say the least, a little hot headed by this point of the night.
He’d dealt with enough bullshit in the front lines to allow aristocratic arrogance question his motives. Elphaba held his gaze with defiance. Boq, who’d seen this whole evening develop before his eyes, was reaching his own tipping point of what his nerves could handle.
“Why don’t we call it a night? it’s getting late…” Boq proposed tentatively, reaching over to call forth their table’s attendant.
Fiyero stopped him then, still glaring daggers at Elphaba who had done nothing more than start smirking by this point.
“I want to see you stand by your words. I’ll challenge you for it!”
“What? Fiyero-…!”
“… A duel?” Elphaba seemed amused by the proposition as she put her glass down on the table.
“10 paces, outside."
Fiyero stood up in a rage then and Boq looked at Elphaba with a flash of disappointment before he dashed after Fiyero.
"Take it back, Fiyero. You don’t know what you are doing.”
“I’m putting her in her place, that’s what I’m doing.” There was no convincing him otherwise and soon the crisp air was prickling at their skin.
Elphaba came out a moment after, finding Fiyero readying his pistol. The Arjiki had a temper; a waste for someone as beautiful as Lady Galinda to be tied with such an animal. Perhaps she could change that now, with one good shot.
“Boq, arbiter the duel!” Fiyero barked as he finished with his pistol and turned his back to Elphaba.
The woman had swiftly readied her own pistol and exchanged a look with Boq. She could tell he was pleading to stop this, but Elphaba simply shrugged her shoulders as she took her position as well.
“Having refused a reconciliation… We shall proceed with the duel.” Boq stepped back, praying that the shroud of night would lead to missed shots. For the sake of both participants. “On the count of tri, begin to advance.”
As he counted down, Boq shut his eyes in fear to witness any of the possible outcomes. There was boots on gravel and then, two shots that made him flinch.
“… I missed.”
Opening his eyes, he saw Fiyero holding his left arm with his pistol at his feet and Elphaba, putting her pistol back in its holster.
“Take him away, before he embarrasses himself further.” She suggested to Boq, who hurried to Fiyero and finally noticed he was holding onto a wound which was starting to bleed past his hand.
Elphaba stayed behind as the two men disappeared within the club. Perhaps this would help persuade Galinda of her fiance’s inferiority.
4. Chapter 4
Galinda had been unable to bring herself out of bed all day. It was two hours before noon, and that was far too late for anyone who wanted to use their day wisely. There was a knock at her door for the third time today.
“Go away!" |
f8771ea025f747fd92e358f1f9d5a05a | ['639d896220254db2a77895960f783ee8'] | “You’re clean, you haven't, you’ve never.” Kyungsoo repeats. Chanyeol can hear the pieces being put together in his mind. And then he has it. “Chanyeol, is this your first time?”
It's nothing to be embarrassed about. He’s only 21. And he'd spent the last five years working tirelessly to debut and then make it as an idol. Some things just weren't very high on the list. But he still can't bring himself to actually admit it to Kyungsoo, so he simply repeats himself. “I'm clean.”
Kyungsoo blinks once, twice, and then thrice before he moves, slowly walking back over to the bed. There's a preparatory like grace to his movements, to his gaze. “Chanyeol,” he says as he settles over him. He moves one hand to cup Chanyeol’s cheek, but otherwise keeps from touching him anywhere else. “I'm only going to ask this once. Are you sure you want it to be like this? With me?”
Chanyeol looks up into Kyungsoo’s gaze. He’s so far gone that he thinks he can literally see the fire of need that burns within him reflected in Kyungsoo’s eyes. He nods his head and tries to raise his lips to Kyungsoo’s.
But Kyungsoo pulls back. “I need you to say it,” he says. “Out loud.”
“Please, Kyungsoo. Fuck me.” Chanyeol didn't even hesitate.
Only then does Kyungsoo bring his lips down to meet Chanyeol’s. And for the rest of the night, Chanyeol loses himself to the feelings and emotions that Kyungsoo pulls from deep within him, gives in to the fire that Kyungsoo so expertly kindles until it consumes him. He’s so wrapped up in it all that when Kyungsoo finally joins them together he can't help but feel as if everything is right in the world.
The moment is perfect. Kyungsoo and him together in the most primal of acts. Kyungsoo and him giving and taking. They’re only bandmates, but Chanyeol thinks that with everything they've gone through together, this is just the next step in their journey.
After all, if they're happy, the band is happy. If this is what taking one for the team feels like, Chanyeol doesn't mind it at all.
-
It's just past ten the next morning before Chanyeol is woken up by Baekhyun’s annoying knocking and nagging. Kyungsoo had decided they needed a round two sometime in the early morning hours, and Chanyeol wasn't about to refuse him. He regrets not locking the door though, because Baekhyun storms in without waiting for a reply and proceeds to pull back the curtains and throw open the windows.
“Fucking hell! The whole room smells like sex. How many times did you two go at it?”
“Your tongue, Baek.” Chanyeol snaps. He pulls up the sheets to cover his and Kyungsoo’s nakedness.
Baekhyun whips his head around to look at him in shock. Only Kyungsoo usually scolded the members about their swearing. He laughs. “One night in the sack with him and you're already fighting his battles. Boy, you're whipped, Park. Was he that good?”
“‘He’ would be better if you weren’t here.” Kyungsoo bites out as he stirs. “What the hell do you want?”
“I'm hungry, and you two went and chased Jongdae away with how loud you were last night.”
“It's always about you, isn't it?” Kyungsoo says as he sits up.
“Always.” Baekhyun isn't even the least bit apologetic about it either. “I’m giving you ten minutes before I enter your sacred domain and start cooking myself.”
Baekhyun was a miserable cook. In fact, Kyungsoo had banned Baekhyun from the kitchen shortly after they all moved in together. The threat of him entering Kyungsoo’s self-proclaimed territory is enough to have Kyungsoo shaking the sleep from his eyes to fully waken.
“Ten minutes,” Baekhyun repeats as he leaves the room.
Kyungsoo lets out a long groan as he scoots over to the edge of the bed and climbs out. There are marks all over his back, chest and arms. Seeing them mar his otherwise perfect skin makes Chanyeol happy because he was the one to put them there. He knows for a fact that he no doubt also sports similar marks on his own skin.
Kyungsoo reaches down and grabs something to wear from the floor. It’s actually the basketball shorts that Chanyeol had been wearing before Kyungsoo had ambushed him. He finds his own shirt on the floor and puts that on over top. When he’s dressed, Kyungsoo walks back over to Chanyeol and gives him a lingering kiss.
“You should shower,” he says.
“So should you,” replies Chanyeol. “It can't be sanitary for you to be in the kitchen after what we did.”
Kyungsoo laughs. “No, but if he wants me to cook him food in ten minutes then this is what he's getting.”
“You're too good to us.” Chanyeol says to him as he walks to the door of their room.
Kyungsoo pauses just before crossing through. He turns to look back and Chanyeol and a half dozen half-formed emotions flicker onto his face before it settles into a fond smile. “So are you, Chanyeol,” he says. And then he leaves to defend his kitchen from Baekhyun’s disaster-prone skills.
**Five**
It happens one night. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo are in the middle of marathoning Battlestar Galactica. Ordinarily all four of them would be there, but Baekhyun and Jongdae had betrayed their fellow bandmates and watched a few episodes on their own while Chanyeol and Kyungsoo had been out on a radio interview. Kyungsoo had subsequently changed the password to his Netflix account and banished the two of them from the living room for the rest of the evening.
Kyungsoo is lying across the couch with his head in Chanyeol’s lap and every now and then Chanyeol runs his hand through his hair as if he were a cat. They’ve almost caught up to where Baekhyun and Jongdae had left off. Only one more episode after they finished their current one. | 1af0a5da32c44090bfee81d37d2a49f4 | ['639d896220254db2a77895960f783ee8'] | Chanyeol still has moments when he doesn’t believe it’s true. Not the fact that he’s an omega. He’s come to accept that part of him. Some random memory will be called to his mind and he’ll see that even before he’d presented, even when he’d thought he was a beta, there was a part of him that had known what he was.
No, it’s the fact that he’s found everything that he could ever want in Kyungsoo and Baekhyun that he sometimes can’t believe in. They completed him, filling parts of him that he’d never known were missing. He knows that if it weren’t for Kyungsoo and Baekhyun, he’d had never settled into himself. It was through their guidance that Chanyeol had come to fully find himself. Not as one half of a pair, but as one part of a trio.
The two alphas would always insist that it was he who completed them, that he’d helped them figure themselves out as alphas as well. They had always been best friends, ever since they could remember. And though they’d tried to build a relationship between them, something was always missing.
Something named Chanyeol.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” Baekhyun says as he moves to join in on the fun.
-
“But what a way to go, huh?” Baekhyun says with a laugh.
It’s his laughter that wakes Chanyeol up. It takes him a moment to realize that the haze of his heat has faded, his cycle having run its course.
“I’m serious, Baek,” hisses Kyungsoo. “Stop clenching on my knot.”
“Then stop playing with mine,” shoots back Baekhyun.
Chanyeol cracks his eyes open just enough to make out that the two alphas are on the floor of Kyungsoo’s bedroom, Baekhyun seated between Kyungsoo’s spread legs, his back to Kyungsoo’s chest. If Chanyeol opens his eyes wider, he’s sure he’d be able to see Kyungsoo messing with Baekhyun’s knot in the full length mirror hanging on the door. The image sounds appealing, so he does just that.
Sure enough, the two alphas are locked together, and Kyungsoo’s got a tight grip on Baekhyun, likely trying to keep it from deflating so soon so he can play with it longer.
“Maybe we can get him a guitar,” Baekhyun says. “I heard Joonmyun say that his is quite old.”
“It’s old because it belonged to his father,” Kyungsoo answers. “Besides, a guitar is not an acceptable courting gift.”
Chanyeol gasps, but thankfully neither alpha seems to notice that he’s up and listening to their conversation.
“Then what do we get him?” Baekhyun says with a whine.
Chanyeol can’t tell if it’s because his idea was shot down or because Kyungsoo had squeezed his knot again.
“Well, he does tend to eye Jongdae’s claiming bracelets a lot.” Kyungsoo says.
Baekhyun hums, mulling it over in his thoughts. “Dark brown and black, made of leather. Think he’d like it?”
“I do,” says Kyungsoo. It’s then that Chanyeol realizes Kyungsoo is looking right at him in the mirror. Their eyes meet and a heart shaped grin appears on the alpha’s face. “Actually, I think he’ll love it.”
Three weeks later, that’s exactly how Chanyeol feels.
-
“What's wrong?” asks a voice, deep and velvety. He knows it’s a familiar voice, but he can’t place it in the moment.
The voice makes Chanyeol preen, speaks to him on a level that he's never been spoken to before. But he can't bring himself to verbalize it, he can't find the words to even say how he feels. Actually, he doesn't know how he feels. He just knows he needs…
Chanyeol doesn't even know what he needs. He's hot, sweaty, bothered, and aches with a need deep inside himself. And he wants…
“I think he's going into heat.” says another voice, this one smooth and dulcet.
“I thought he was a beta?” says yet another voice. This one female, all too nasally and piercing to his ears.
It makes him groan, or more like whine than a groan. But it's a weak excuse for communicating anything. What happens afterwards is all a little fuzzy in Chanyeol's memory. He remembers voices, some excited, others full of concern, but two stand out as being sources of clarity, anchors in the storm of chaos that Chanyeol was is the midst of.
He remembers being picked up from the stairs, where he'd collapsed in an effort to make it to a chair in the lecture hall. But the touch set his skin on fire, and not in a good way. It was…
Wrong.
It was all wrong. He shouldn't be feeling this hot. He shouldn't be feeling out of his mind with desperation for something he couldn't identify. But he was, and he supposes that some part of him, some basic and primal part of him recognized the reason why.
Why else would his mind settle when he felt his body pass into the arms of another? Chanyeol is no small person, so whoever was now carrying him had to be strong, but there was something about the warmth of this new set of arms, the way they held him so preciously that managed to give him sense of comfort.
“I got him,” said that first, deep and velvety voice.
Chanyeol turned his face towards the source of said voice, and then he’s inhaling a scent so heavenly.
A hand appeared on his back, moving in small circles. “Let’s get you somewhere safe,” says the other, smooth and dulcet voice that he likes. Somehow Chanyeol knows that the hands and voice have the same owner, and he knows they go good together. He’s pretty sure the voice kept talking, continued saying things, but he doesn’t remember what was said.
The last thing Chanyeol remembers about it all was the warmth of the hand on his back, soothing him with its comforting pressure; the enticing scent oh so strong, his nose pressed close against its source; the melody of the two voices, complementing each other as if in harmony; the calming rumble of the chest he was held against, almost a purr of happiness; and the sense of rightness that came with being held so preciously by such strong arms.
-
Everyone knows that if you’re an alpha or an omega, you present in the summer when you’re either 18 or 19 years old. It’s some holdover from their more primal nature, mirroring how animals all enter a mating season at the same time.
Clearly, Chanyeol’s body hadn’t gotten the memo, for not only did he present in the fall, he presented a full five years late. But somehow, someway he was right on time. For it was that moment that brought him not just one, but two alphas. It may have taken him a bit of time to realize it, but they were everything he needed. |
a8b92eb0aab24621bb50df044eb2805b | ['63d7ab353b4045a79e690da668fdf672'] | “I will forgive you as long as you forgive me, I think we both were guilty of over reacting,” replied Daesung, as he ran a finger down Bae’s nose. “For now though, I think we should just go to bed. We can talk more in the morning when we have gotten some rest.”
25. D25- Gazing Into Each Other’s Eyes
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> YAY! for Fetus BigBang (psst they are watching Boys Over Flowers)(I may or may not have a thing for Lee Minho as well ///*__*///) also, I haven't edit this, so please excuse any mistakes.
They had started out the evening watching that new flower boy drama that just started, but had been several minutes and frankly Youngbae really wasn’t sure what had been happening for the entire episode. His attention was much more captivated by his adorable dongsaeng next to him. He tried to be sure to only look when the younger’s attention was on the TV screen so that he didn’t get caught staring. The view on the couch was much more captivating than whatever was happening in drama land.
Daesung tried desperately not to blush as he realized he wasn’t imagining things. His hyung was most definitely staring at him. Whenever he looked over though, Youngbae would quickly look back at the show. “Hyung?” he asked. “Is something wrong? You keep looking at me. Is there something on my face?” He knew there wasn’t but he wanted to try and give his overly shy hyung a way to backpedal if he wanted to.
“N... No, I’m sorry I didn’t think you’d notice Daesung-ah, well I’d hoped you wouldn’t,” stammered the elder boy. “I... I like your eyes, I was just trying to see them as you watched the show,” he continued, face turning red all the way to the tips of his ears.
Daesung decided maybe a bolder step was necessary, turning his position so he was facing his hyung on the couch. He reached out his hand, slowly so that he didn’t startle Youngbae. He stroked the back of his fingers along the other’s jaw as he looked him in the eye. “You have my permission, Hyung,” Dae said. “Anytime you want. I like when you look at me.”
His admission was bold, but didn’t stop either one from blushing six shades of red. Gathering one last bit of courage Daesung leaned forward and gave Youngbae a quick chaste peck on his lips. His bout of courage over Dae turned and faced the show pretending to watch it while both of them sat there with giants grins affixed to their faces.
26. D26- Getting married
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So I had already done 2 other drabbles with this theme, one happy one sad, so I thought, why not do it from a child's "girls are gross" point of view? Youngbae is 7, Daesung is 6.
Little Daesung sat on his seat fidgeting uncomfortably. “Bae hyung, how long do we have to wear these suits for?” He whined, asking the older boy next to him.
Youngbae smiled at his cute dongsaeng before he answered. “Until after the reception. That’s what my Eomma told me, Dae-dae.”
“Ception? What’s that?” The younger asked.
“It’s a party after.” Bae replied, feeling wise for his seven years. “After your cousin marries the girl, we all go and eat dinner and dance. It will be fun.”
“Oh,” Daesung replied. “So after he marries her, then he has to eat with her, and dance with her? Why would he want to do that?” He was really having a hard time getting his six year old brain to understand why his cousin didn’t think girls were gross.
Youngbae leaned in closer to Daesung to whisper to him as girls were still gross to him as well. “Eomma says that they are going to live together now too.”
Daesung was horrified. “Nope, I am never marrying a girl. They have cooties hyung.” He reached over and snatched the older boy’s hand holding it firmly in his smaller one. “My Eomma said I can marry whoever I want when I get big. I want to marry you, Bae-ya hyung. Then we don’t have to marry gross girls.” Daesung nodded his head as if it was decided.
Youngbae smiled as he looked at the younger boy. “Okay Daesungie, I will marry you, and then we will be safe.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So yeah, it's pretty much settled. Youngbae and Daesung have to get married. Right? Unless of course one or both wants to marry me, that's an option too.
27. D27- On One of Their Birthdays
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Had to do one more with my supernatural AU. I just love wolfy Dae.
Taeyang sighed as he looked up at the moon. Since he couldn’t spend his birthday with his lover he had decided instead to take a walk in the park. He was certain that his clan (spurred on by Jiyong) would have a party planned for him. Before he forced himself to attend he wanted some time to himself. Some time to wish in secret that the love of his life was here to celebrate with him. He was certain they would make up for lost time once the full moon finished its cycle, but it wasn’t quite the same.
A quiet whining coming from the edge of the trees brought his attention back to his surroundings. Scanning the trees in the dark he saw the source of the sound, the faint outline of a huge wolf standing just at the edge of the tree line. Taeyang walked closer, this wolf he had no reason to fear. | 78c3a7a0464d4a6eb308a26905c259bc | ['63d7ab353b4045a79e690da668fdf672'] |
1. Mate
**Author's Note:**
> This was written quickly so please excuse any errors. I am writing when I should be sleeping but how could I not. I saw a picture of Youngbae at the airport, and also these videos of him. That man is Damn sexy and this is where my mind wandered to. BTW you should watch all of her BigBang videos they are amazing!
LINK is the picture of Youngbae at the airport, watch the videos LINK and LINK.
* * *
Sangmi had decided to take a walk in the park, when he phone chimed an incoming notification. She ignored it for the moment and decided to check it when she got home. It was most likely an Instagram notification anyway and not a message from her mate. He was currently on a plane headed for a fan meet in Macau. Sangmi pouted to herself a little bit, wishing she could see him off like normal couples would. Only they weren’t a normal couple. Her boyfriend was Taeyang of BigBang.
It was always a challenge, but one they were willing to deal with. It was just the occasional moment like this that made her sad. Youngbae would make up for it though when he got home. Her heat cycle would be starting shortly after, which made her glad that he was only gone for a couple of days. It was always worse when he wasn’t there.
After she had finished her walk and made her way home, she felt her wolf’s spirit nudging at the back of her mind. _Mate, now. Want see mate, NOW._ Sangmi shook her head, laughing, and thought nothing more of it. It wasn’t the first time that thinking of Youngbae had brought forth her primal side when he wasn’t home. _NOW, see mate. NOW._
Digging her phone from her pocket, Sangmi figured it would be best to ease her wolf spirit and just look at a few updates online. Fans should have posted airport pictures by now. Clicking the widget for Instagram, she was not disappointed. There were many pictures of her boyfriend entering the airport, looking especially gorgeous if she didn’t say so herself. She also saw that they had landed safely, since another fan posted a video of the member boarding a shuttle bus at the airport in Macau. This was confirmed by an incoming text from him, telling her he would call her as soon as they arrived at the hotel, and was she okay, his wolf spirit was highly agitated. _More Mate. Want Mate here._
Sangmi started to become a bit concerned as she searched YouTube for videos to appease her wolf spirit, who didn’t get this edgy or demanding unless she was in heat, but that wasn’t supposed to be until next week. Clicking on the compilation videos she found of Youngbae dancing, set to different music, proved to be a mistake. At no point did her mate not reek of sexual energy when he performed. The videos set her spirit into a frenzy, at the same time she felt the first coils of heat from her belly. This time her spirit’s voice was panting and whimpering in desire and need. _Mate here now. Need mate here._
Doing her best to push her spirit’s voice to the back of her mind, Sangmi answered her now ringing phone. “Jagiya! I’m so sorry you are there alone.” _Mate, mate, mate, mate._ Hearing her mate’s voice served to both soothe her heated and frayed nerves while simultaneously agitating her spirit, which by now was fully in primal mode.
“It’s not your fault Bae-ya, just get home as soon as you can,” whimpered Sangmi trying her best to resist the urge to shift. That would only make matters worse.
“Alright Jagi, I already spoke to my manager. I will be there as soon as possible after the fan meets,” replied Youngbae. She could hear the worry in his voice. “Try a shower, it may help, and get some rest.”
After hanging up with Youngbae, Sangmi took a cold shower, which surprisingly helped, even if it did anger her wolf spirit to be wet with cold water. Once the initial heat wave was cooled some, Sangmi set about to distract herself for the next day or two. Watching television and reading would hopefully be enough to distract her mind until then, and if needed, there was always the box full of toys hidden in the bedside table to take the edge off until Youngbae returned to her. It was going to be a long couple days without her mate.
* * *
2. Mate is home
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> There is probably errors. I'll come back and edit later
It had been three days since Sangmi had seen her boyfriend, and two days since she had unexpectedly gone into heat early. It wouldn’t be long now until he was home. Youngbae had called her before he left his hotel earlier that morning. Partly to let her know that he was on the way and partly to see if she needed what little relief he could give her over the phone. She regretted now that she had turned him down as another wave of heat washed over her body. Showering didn’t help anymore, there were just too many hormones coursing through her system. The cold shock of water only served to upset her wolf, not squelch the flames. Sangmi went back to her room to wait, Youngbae would be home soon. She put on one of his shirts from the laundry, wrapping herself in his scent, to calm herself and her spirit wolf until her mate arrived. _Need to join with mate. Make mate hurry._
~~~~~~~~~~~~~ |
c84593800117480b8c8d22e644116bcb | ['6401660dc5ad4e8880f050d59851f349'] | “Nah. I could take you down,” Minhyuk replied, and reached past him to pull the bathroom door open again. He nudged Kihyun out the door with his very slightly larger frame. “That boy you like is out there somewhere. Don’t you wanna go tell him you know his name?”
“Not really,” Kihyun heard himself say. “Listen, this— we’re not done here!”
“Aren’t we, though?” Minhyuk kissed his hand and patted the affection onto Kihyun’s face, like powder onto Marie Antoinette. “Go get a drink. Relax a little.”
“You said you were sick.”
“I say a lot of things.”
“I found the tea,” Kihyun said, laying down his trump card, “and I’m going to make you drink it.”
All the blood drained out of Minhyuk’s face and he looked almost as corpse-white as his cheap costume makeup was trying to be. “It doesn’t exist,” he said hoarsely. “I checked. It doesn’t exist.”
“It does, I bought it, and not only will you be paying me back for it I will also see you drink a whole cup of it in front of me.”
“That’s cruel and unusual.”
“So are you,” Kihyun countered, shoving Minhyuk against the wall to get by. “The punishment fits the criminal.”
He didn’t want to know the Kid’s name. (It was Changkyun.) If he knew the Kid’s name, (Changkyun), then the Kid (Changkyun) would stop calling him Sir. He was going to find out all by himself, like a puzzle, like finding the angel in the marble, and Minhyuk had just— he’d just _told_ him. Like it was nothing.
It _was_ nothing. It was nothing!
He walked by the living room. He turned around. He went into the living room. “We are colleagues,” he said, hurt and betrayed beyond belief. “Why didn’t you tell me there was going to be a halloween party at my actual goddamn house?”
“I thought you knew,” Hyungwon replied from Kihyun’s couch, probably, but his voice was muffled by his girlfriend. “I mean, like, it stands to reason.”
His girlfriend leaned against him, giving Kihyun a coy, sideways look. “You didn’t know?”
“No, Wonhee. I didn’t know. What do you mean you thought I knew?”
“It stands to reason,” Hyungwon repeated.
“If he’d known it wouldn’t be happening,” Wonhee said, patting Hyungwon kindly on the face. She crossed her legs demurely at the ankle and flipped her hair over one shoulder. “Don’t worry, Minhyuk told everyone not to break anything.”
“Yeah,” Kihyun said darkly, “I heard about that.”
He left, left the living room and went to the kitchen to get a drink and a shred of self-respect. What he found instead was Changkyun. You know, Changkyun. The Kid.
He was sitting backwards on one of the chairs set around the kitchen table, cheek pillowed on his forearms laid over the back, and his eyes were closed. He looked— he looked innocent is what he looked, and that clashed so significantly with the state of Kihyun’s thighs that it was hard to think, especially over the growing hum in his head.
Minhyuk would have to drink two cups of green tea with cucumber. And he’d have to smile the whole time.
One of Changkyun’s eyes opened. “Hey,” he said, rolling his head upright. “Wondered why I didn’t see you, Sir.”
“Minhyuk didn’t tell me he was throwing a party at my house.” Tell him you know his name. It’s stupid to keep this up. “What are you doing in here, Kid? Party get too loud for you?”
Changkyun laughed— he giggled, really, low voice creaky and delighted— and lolled his head over to the other side. “Cute,” he sighed. “I’m so innocent to you.” He rested his chin on his wrists. “I’m drunk, Sir. I’m super-duper drunk. Stumbling—” He hiccuped. “—Stumbling drunk.”
“You’re 19,” Kihyun said. Out of all the things he could have said, and he said that one. “You’re not old enough to be super-duper drunk.”
“I’m a baby,” Changkyun replied. “Babies are irresponsible.”
“You’re not a baby.”
Changkyun leaned forward just a little bit more, eyelids heavy enough that his lower and upper eyelashes threaded together. He looked sleepy, warm, flushed with alcohol. He looked like he fit in that chair, at that table, in this kitchen. He looked like brown sugar. “You sure about that, Sir?”
Tell him. Tell him you know his name. Don’t be stupid, this isn’t a _game_ , why are you being so—
“Let’s get you to bed,” Kihyun said, and when he spoke his voice wasn’t strangled at all.
The worst part wasn’t that Changkyun’s halloween costume was a soft flannel wolf onesie, even though that was pretty terrible. It wasn’t that the zipper of the onesie had dipped down low enough that there was no question about whether or not Changkyun had a shirt on underneath. It wasn’t the way Changkyun leaned on him as they left the kitchen, his hot breath against Kihyun’s neck.
Minhyuk met them halfway to the stairs. “Uh oh,” he said, disingenuously surprised. “Looks like there’s only one bed! Whatever are we to do?”
“Move,” Kihyun said. Changkyun was very warm and very soft and kind of heavy, actually, so holding him up was distracting. “There are three guest bedrooms upstairs.”
There was a thump from overhead, and Kihyun and Minhyuk looked up at the same time. “They’re occupied,” Minhyuk said. “Holy shit, dude, I told everybody that your room is off limits— Ki for real it’s hard to breathe—”
“Don’t be dramatic, I’m not even wrinkling your shirt. What the hell do you mean, ‘occupied’?”
“Halloween sex,” Minhyuk replied. He said it slowly, carefully, like explaining the concept of water being wet to a seven year old child who should really know this by now. “I’m taking care of the laundry,” he added quickly. “Don’t worry about it.”
“So where am I supposed to put him?” | 285f8297079c4957811bf02c3badef49 | ['6401660dc5ad4e8880f050d59851f349'] | "Since when am I the member you're closest to?" Hoseok asked a little later, after the pd had managed to ambush Kihyun into doing a mission where he wheedled Changkyun into proposing to him and the cameras were all pointed elsewhere. When Hoseok said it he laughed but it was quiet, and he only looked at the chain around Hyungwon's neck rather than in his face.
"Since," Hyungwon said, but then didn't know what to say after that. "Thanks," he said instead. "For the coat. It meant a lot. Means. It means a lot."
This time when Hoseok laughed he meant it, at least a little bit more. "Is that it?"
The way the light hit the angle of his jaw was stupid, frankly, and someone had noticed it and now Hyungwon had too. Hoseok's jaw was stupid, but Hyungwon was a fucking idiot— he had to be, because only a fucking idiot would reach out and feel the arc, the soft skin just under the ridge of bone, the powdery finish on the fixing spray the staff plastered them with every waking moment.
Hyungwon blinked, said, "Yeah," and dropped his hand. "That's pretty much it." And fled.
The next time time he saw Hoseok it was out of the corner of his eye, and he pretended not to.
It was dark all over again before they were finally all packed into the van for the last time. It had stopped raining, clouds parting to let moonlight glance up off the mirror-sheen of wet asphalt, but big fat drops of water still rolled down the glass of the window as the van moved along brand new highways and ancient thoroughfares. Hyungwon traced the pathways with a fingertip and thought about nothing.
Jooheon had fallen asleep only a few minutes after they'd left their last filming location and now he was tipped in against Minhyuk's chest, Minhyuk's arm around his shoulders and long fingers combing distractedly through his hair. Minhyuk looked out the window too. Streetlights passed and reflection of his face in the dark window showed circles under his eyes like bruises, where the makeup had worn off and the sleep deprivation shone through.
Minhyuk could sleep, nudge Jooheon over a little and prop up against him like they did on long airplane rides when things were too cramped to recline their seats, but he didn't. When Jooheon sighed and shifted in his sleep he was responsive and quick, checking on him, brushing knuckles gently over his cheek to coax him back to sleep.
It's one thing if there's nothing. But if there's something...
Hyungwon pretended to be asleep when the van finally came to a stop in front of their dorm, letting everybody else pile out until finally 'waking up' right before Jooheon finally straightened up, blinking in the light as Minhyuk shook and cooed at him. (Hyungwon had been hearing sing-song whispers of "Honey-yah, we're almost home" and "Honey-yah, almost time to wake up" for the last five minutes, and still Jooheon took this long to wake up. And he was the one who was famous for being hard to get out of bed? He’d make sure to bring this up in the next radio interview.)
Jooheon stood up, and then Minhyuk stood up—
Hyungwon caught Minhyuk's elbow in a fit of vigilante concern. "Hey, can I have a second?"
The look Minhyuk gave him wasn't suspicious or curious, which he hadn't been expecting. "You can have minutes," he replied, teeth chattering, "but just lemme get inside."
The sidewalk shone with rain and the echoes of their footsteps seemed to ring even louder in the fresh, clean air. "Out here," Hyungwon managed, using his long legs for good in order to catch up, reaching out for Minhyuk's shoulder. "Just a second. You and me," he said, coming up close to speak quietly in his ear. "No managers."
Now Minhyuk narrowed his eyes. "What?" he asked, voice hushed. "Is this about Hoseok-hyung's birthday, because I was talking to Chang—"
"I just wanna remind you to be careful," Hyungwon interrupted, risking his life. Minhyuk looked him in the eye but he couldn't stop now. "With Honey."
"I'm always careful with Honey."
"No, I mean— I mean maybe he just needs some space, you know?"
"Oh please, the last time I 'gave him space' he started falling asleep in my bed all the time, and while he's adorable and I normally wouldn't mind, he is a _total_ blanket hog. I'd rather leave the cosleeping for hotel rooms with queen sized beds."
"But if he likes you," Hyungwon whispered. They were alone outside the glass doors of their building but across the lobby Hyungwon could see the bank of elevators and how one of them was slowly coming back down. "Like... just be careful, okay, he's— delicate," Hyungwon finished stupidly. "Don't lead him on."
Hyungwon hadn't known what exactly he expected but it wasn't for the blood to drain out of Minhyuk's face. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he whispered, taking a quick step forward. He was shorter than Hyungwon, but it occurred to him that he was also a hundred times more dangerous. "Don't— don't lead _him_ on?"
"What if he likes you, and you—"
"Why do you even care?" Minhyuk interrupted, but he wasn't looking at Hyungwon anymore. He scrubbed both hands over his face. "What do you think, what... what do you think I'm doing?"
"Teasing him," Hyungwon said, and knew immediately that it was the wrong answer. The right answer eluded him, but it wasn't that.
Minhyuk rolled his eyes with more sarcasm than Hyungwon had ever seen him express, which was saying something. "Yep," he said. "You caught me. It's the long con, you know?" He coughed out a laugh. "This doesn't have anything to do with you, okay? Don't worry about it. It's none of your business." |
9ba97891310d4c4db5039d5671a8008f | ['64390f5c5f914f3f9cde3d6f2471e5d0'] | Where was this supposed to lead us? Why was I asking him all those things and getting myself deeper and deeper involved in his problems? God knows I had enough of those myself, and after that there were those of my family and the girls of Mère’s House I should take care of, but not some customer’s I hardly knew one hour. Even if he looked so damn young and appealed to all my motherly instincts and I felt I needed to just hug him, I should stop digging. The more I would know about him, the more it would haunt me later. And I couldn’t help him anyway, even if I’ve had the impression that he would allow it, which I didn’t.
I remembered another traumatised customer, it probably had been more than ten years ago. He had been totally different, not only because he had been older. Humans probably break in different ways. He’d had absolutely no problem telling he was raped by his teacher, more detailed than I ever had wanted to know. And he had been brutal, that day I couldn’t take any more customers and I had been in pain for days. Fortunately punters like that were rare at Mère’s.
I heard him gasping and he looked at me, horrified.
“I’m just like them, am I?” he asked. “People who just take other people. The money makes no difference.”
Confused I wondered why he brought that up now, he could have hardly read my thoughts about that terrible punter from ten years ago.
“Hey kid, calm down, okay? You are certainly not like those people who hurt you. And besides, we didn’t do anything,” I tried to reassure him.
“But I intended to. At least in theory.” He looked at me piercingly. „Are you doing this voluntarily?“
Oh dear, now he wanted to save me, this mess was getting more and more complicated. “Yes, I do. Of course this wasn’t the job I dreamt of as a little girl.” I laughed when I remembered all the high-flown plans I’ve had as a child. “But it was easy money. I wanted to be a dancer, you know. But the dancing school was expensive, and I always said ‘Just a little while longer, until I can afford the school’, and then it was until I could afford a better apartment, until I had a well-paid other job, until I paid off the house. At some time I accepted that this was my job now, there won’t be something else. A few more years and I’ll be able to enjoy my retirement, much sooner than others.”
He listened to me, his head slightly slanted, as if my story wasn’t like a thousand other people’s story. Because he seemed honestly interested, I continued talking. “But you are right in a way, a lot of girls don’t do it voluntarily. Or not really voluntarily.” I made a gesture towards the right. “Mihaela for example, in the room next door, she’s got two small kids and a husband with failing kidneys in Romania, they need the money badly and as quickly as possible to pay for the surgery or else the husband will die.” I sighed. “Don’t think too hard about it. That’s the way the world works, we can’t change it, and you’ve got enough problems of your own.”
He nodded hesitantly.
“Well? If you want to try something we can still do it. Ever so slowly, if you want.”
“Even if I wanted, I wouldn’t want to do it with you anymore. You’re too nice. And not really my type, to be honest.”
I roared with laughter, “Well, I’ll take it as compliment, kid.” I stopped laughing and asked, “May I give you an advice?”
“I’ll probably won’t want to hear it, right?”
“I don’t know. Nothing bad, I promise. That you should stay away from drugs and go to therapy you know yourself. What I want to tell you is that you should allow yourself time. With having sex, I mean. Someday you’ll meet someone you’ll love, and you will trust them, and it will happen just naturally. It will be totally different. But you can’t force that. With a whore it will never be intimate enough, it will always remind you of bad stuff. But with someone you love it will be different, I think.”
He looked sceptical as he got up, but he nodded. “Maybe,” he said. “I thank you for the conversation. And your understanding, Ebony.” He took my hand.
“Hadiza,” I said, and when he looked at me confused, “My real name. Hadiza.”
“Oh, I see. Draco,” he smiled, an actual open smile for the first time. “My name.”
He shook my hand.
“Merci, Hadiza, pour tout.”
He pulled a wooden stick out of his pocket which puzzled me, I thought he was about to leave now.
“Je suis désolé. _Obliviate_.”
* * *
Of course the girls asked if I had a lover when the bouquet was brought for me. From time to time it happened that a punter fell in love, and some simply sent flowers hoping to receive better service. But this bouquet was strange. Not only was it huge, it also consisted of an odd mixture of roses of all colours but red and lucky bamboo, and came without any card or other information about the sender. Nobody could be naïve enough to send a bouquet of flowers to a brothel and expect the recipient to know who bought it for her, so the whole thing remained mysterious. I inquired in some flower shops, secretly driven by the illusory hope that it actually was a suitor and I might still find a husband in the end. I actually did find a shop which had the sale of the appropriate number of roses and lucky bamboo noted in its books, but the shopgirl who worked in the corresponding time couldn’t remember a thing about that hour. The owner, who was a customer of Mère’s house, and me questioned her thoroughly, but her memory remained blank.
**Author's Note:**
> I couldn't resist and translated one of my works again - but still I'm neither a native speaker nor a translator, so please correct me if you spot mistakes. I found it very interesting how hard translating is even when it's your own work so you definitely know exactly what the author wants to say.
> I should say that I don't actually know a lot about prostitution, I hope nobody feels offended by the way I wrote it and it's not too silly. I'm aware that the whole thing, as it is told in first person, could be written a lot more slangy, but I felt the clean language somewhat conveys they're not actually speaking English.
> Feedback to the story is welcome as well, and bonus points go to whoever figures out why I let Draco send Hadiza lucky bamboo. | cd5606bdf61b49408015d86882b75672 | ['64390f5c5f914f3f9cde3d6f2471e5d0'] |
In Mère's House
**Author's Note:**
* A translation of LINK by LINK.
_**Le Havre, in 2000** _
I trickled a few drops of my facial tonic on a small round cotton pad and wiped the smeared lipstick off my cheeks and throat. Using the reflection of the small mirror on the windowpane behind the bed I carefully reapplied new colour to my lips.
There was a knock on the door and it was opened without waiting for my answer. Mère’s big head appeared in the door, her searching glance scrutinising the room. Everybody here called her Mère, me too, even though I probably was a few years older than her. Only Madeleine was even older than me, and she, too, called her Mère.
“Are you ready, Hadiza?” said Mère. “I’ve got someone for you.”
“Yeah of course.”
She gave me a quick smile. “Fine, I’ll send him up. I think he’s one for a jump-start, quite cute, actually. You’re gonna have fun.” She winked and her head vanished. A jump-start, as we called it, was when men came here to have their first time. A lot of them thought they would have better chances with women in real life after that, or they were ashamed by their inexperience. I didn’t mind them, most who came for a jump-start were friendly, not brutal and finished quickly.
I checked the room, yes, everything was in order. In the mirror next to the door I checked whether there were any stains on my négligé and, as always, I looked into the shelves next to the bed to check if everything was there. Lube, condoms, a few toys, and, hidden at the very back, a knife, just in case of emergency. I sight inwardly when my eye caught the time on the watch lying in the shelves. In another life I would be praying the sallar magariba now. I never prayed when I was working. I did feel bad because of all the missed prayers, but when I prayed in between customers I felt as if I was dirtying the holy words by the surroundings.
Then he stood in the door. Light-skinned, and I mean _really_ light-skinned, the hair still wet from the shower every customer in Mère’s house was obliged to take – another reason why I liked it here and only rarely missed Paris and the dreams I buried there anymore. His hair was of an unusual white-blond colour, even though it was wet I could see that, and maybe it was because of this he appeared to be so very young. He couldn’t be older than twenty years, I thought. That was younger than I had expected, most twenty-year-olds weren’t desperate or hard-boiled enough to pay for sex – even though the cases did exist where some eighteen-year-old was brought in by his drunk friends who thought the visit here a fitting birthday present.
“Bonsoir, mon bel homme,” I said in my deepest, most seductive voice, even though I had trouble seeing this slender boy as a man. But he was a customer. Mère closed the door behind him and startled, he took a step forward into the chamber. His insecurity filled the whole room and felt overwhelming. Well, this should be fun, I sighed silently to myself and rose to go to him.
“Bonsoir, Madame,” he said and didn’t lose sight of me for one second while I approached him. He was wearing a white shirt which was at the same time obviously unfashionable and tailor-made, you develop an eye for such things in my profession. Customers with tailor-made clothing were wealthier, but also more demanding. Even stranger than the style of his shirt were his trousers. There cut was better suited for the sixties, and the wine-red fabric with some geometrical weaving pattern had certainly never be fashionable at all. An eccentric, apparently. He must have redressed after the shower. Most didn’t do that, they just went up with a towel around the waist.
“Je m’appelle Ebony,” I purred. I used to go by the name of Princess, but after reaching a certain age I thought it silly. And here Ebony was advantageous, marketing-wise, there weren’t a lot of black whores in Le Havre and I was the only on in Mère’s House.
I put a hand on his chest and intended to unbutton his shirt, but at the first touch he flinched back. Inwardly I rolled my eyes, this was going to be quite a bit of work. But it happened with customers coming for the first time. After all, it was a new situation for them.
“Are you a shy one, chéri?” I giggled. “I’ll do exactly how you like, you’re gonna love it. Don’t worry. How do you want me to start?”
He kept staring at me and swallowed heavily. “I’m not sure.” He spoke quickly and quietly and his French hat I slight accent I couldn’t place. I reached out for him again and this time he allowed my hands to stroke over his chest, but he froze so completely I decided to chit-chat a bit until he relaxed.
“What’s your name, chéri?” I asked. He stared at me and I laughed in the bubbling way I knew men liked. “Don’t worry, beautiful, you don’t have to tell. But if you do, I won’t tell anybody you were here. I’m discretion personified.” I imitated the movement of a key locking my mouth and threw the invisible key away. “Will you tell me at least where you come from? You aren’t French, are you, chéri?”
“I’m English,” he answered, and I took it as a good sign he had finally given a proper answer. |
7cd9fa2fc6a5419c89f97334c2dc03ce | ['646fe3a3be054edfa48d6208cd0c91e3'] | Double Meanings
**Author's Note:**
* Translation into Русский available: LINK by LINK
> This is what happens when one has spent too much time indoors on a sunny spring afternoon. Un-beta'ed, so please excuse any errors.
"Sit still. I shouldn't be doing this to begin with."
"You're the one who offered."
"I'm aware of that and I'm telling you that I regret it already. And I've not even taken the blade to you yet."
"You'll be fine. Make sure that the cream is sufficiently moistened and that you've spread it generously all over. Yes, like that. See, is it so very difficult?"
"We shall find out..." Holmes pressed his teeth against his lower lip in concentration. Didn't he have a chemist's delicate touch after all?
He wiped the blade between the folds of the old tea towel and carefully drew it across Watson's jaw, maintaining the sharp edge close enough so that it dragged satisfyingly across the stubble, but not quite so hard that it bit the skin. Instead Holmes found that blood had bloomed on the inside of his own mouth.
Holmes placed his other hand against Watson's hair to steady him. Watson closed his eyes.
"Hmm..." he said, in a tone that flustered Holmes.
"Is my grip too strong?" Ever since their friendship had...progressed...to its current state, he had learned that Watson ("John" was reserved strictly for the transports of the bedchamber) liked his hair to be...how was one to describe it?...grasped tautly.
"No, just like that. You must be sure to use a firm hand." Watson's lips moved in a lazy smile.
Holmes stopped. "For God's sake, Watson."
"What?" He opened those dark blue eyes of his.
"You make this sound as if–well, it's practically indecent. Pull yourself together, man."
"Can't a person enjoy a shave every now and then without having to take himself all the way to the barber's?" Watson asked with injured innocence.
Holmes threw him a glance, but completed his ministrations on the rest of Watson's face.
"Now," Watson said, pointing to the nearby bottle of bay rum. "Take a little between your hands, rub them together, then apply it vigorously to my cheeks, like this. Don't worry, you won't hurt me."
Holmes cleared his throat.
"Well, come on."
Holmes set himself diligently to his task, as he had been bidden to do.
"There we are. Very nice. Yes, very nice indeed," Watson pronounced. "Much obliged, old man," he said, giving him a friendly slap on the arm. "Next time we'll work on my moustache." He arose from the chair and without further ado proceeded to the sitting room.
"Oh, one more thing," Watson called behind him. "Be sure to sharpen the razor with the strop. You'll need to scrape it against the leather, strenuously, several times."
Holmes made a strangled noise. He could have sworn there was a suppressed grin hiding in those words. | 6d08847f4fec48349a202a48374ac45c | ['646fe3a3be054edfa48d6208cd0c91e3'] | "I'd always been able to discard people when the convenient time came. Or send them packing. Or bar them from entering into my affairs in the first place. Before you came along. And you can't know the number of times that I've struggled with whether to take the morphia since you came back to Baker Street. I simply haven't learned again how to live with you so close by since I've returned to London. There's been the danger that you might decide you'd had enough of this quaint lark, after your years of living a more conventional life."
Holmes was seeking his way through his thoughts.
"And you never saw through me, that was the curious thing. Not before and not now. I admit that I am rather good with disguises, but you are more perceptive than you suppose. I knew that one day the jig would be up."
"What did you think I would find?"
"A collection of tics and tricks? Of cleverly elaborated prestidigitations? You surely must have tired of those long ago. I blow hot and cold, you know. When I'm pinned down is when I most want to be away. I take more than I give. And I can't promise that I'll change any of these things. Really, Watson, who wants to bother themselves with such an inconvenient sort of person?"
Watson did not reply at first.
"Well? Have I made myself clear enough?"
"I do."
"You do what?"
"I want to bother. Holmes, listen to me," Watson looked straight at him, a bulldog hunch to his shoulders. Even when Holmes inclined his head away, Watson kept on looking, so that Holmes would eventually be compelled to face him.
"Holmes. Listen to me. What did you think I was in this for? The fun of the deductions? The demand for the stories? You know I write them up because–well, they bring in a steady supply of clients for you and the world needs to know about your work and I rather enjoy the scribbling thing. But what you are–? Who you are–? I would burn every one of the tales, every last page of my notes, to ashes if I could make you see that the man behind them is so much more than any of that.
"You're right! I do notice a thing or two, and I've learned to do so from the very best. Good God, man, I've observed you more closely than ever you did a trail of clues! I know who you really are."
It seemed as if Holmes could hardly bear to remain in his chair, as if he were shrinking from being exposed while humiliated by a need to be seen. He made to serve himself some more tea, rattling the cups and other things in the process.
"The honey," was all Watson could think to remark. "You've spilled some. On your hand."
Several drops of honey had fallen and merged on Holmes's hand. They glistened there in the firelight, rounded and inviolate. Watson could fix his eyes on nothing else. With the slowest of movements, gently, perched on the edge of the armchair, he leaned over, a little off balance, and took Holmes's hand in his own. He felt its calluses in his grasp. He lowered his head, clumsy but intent, his whole frame now trembling, and brought his mouth to the drops, sucking them where they sat on the mound between Holmes's thumb and forefinger. Watson tasted the summer and the bees in the drops, and the muscle underneath.
Holmes held utterly still. His hand was extended like a cardinal's accepting his vassalage. Moving as if in a dream, Watson unfastened the cuff of Holmes's shirt, tossing it aside, then drove the purple dressing gown and shirt sleeves upwards. He sighed at the pale expanse of forearm before him, the blue veins tangled there, the untouched flesh. Then he saw the bruise-coloured landscape lying further above.
Holmes tried to pull back his arm.
"Let me. Please," Watson whispered, his voice roughened. "Please."
He travelled with steady kisses up the skin. A sharp male flavour waited in the crook of the elbow, hiding among the scars. He spent his time there, sucking, inhaling the darkness, as if extracting a venom. The heavy folds of the gown spilled around the crown of his head.
Holmes's breath came faster now. Watson had never heard it so uncontrolled.
\--
Watson threw down his pen, his face warm at the memory and at what had followed. He leant back in the chair, grinning. Then he cast his eye over the dutiful, leaden lines before him. How could words capture the smallest part of what he felt for Holmes and the ways in which he had changed as a man because of him?
But even if he could make the words do his bidding and express all that lay in his heart, would he want to? Were there some things too private to be recorded, even in the most veiled terms? He didn't think this was an evasion because of the particular nature of their relationship or because Holmes might mock his efforts. No, perhaps some experiences were too fugitive to pin down into such confining things as sentences and paragraphs. The scenes he had recalled this afternoon, as the day drifted into evening, would certainly never be committed to paper. Only he and Holmes would know of them. There was more than a little satisfaction in the idea.
Watson rose from the chair, grasping the sheet of paper with its failed sonnet, and took it to the hearth. There he lit it and threw it in the grate, watching as it curled and twisted, the black words consumed in the orange flame. He stood for some minutes, his hands in his trouser pockets, his mind floating, alighting on no one thing. He made a rueful face, thinking on the result of his latest essay at things poetical. |
f18ede338f5340458a442bc02d025b40 | ['6472ead4e2934b3b917b7bc5eeb727f8'] | “The door was secured from the outside,” Hershel mentioned, examining the lock on the front door.
"W-Well what're we gonna do?" Glenn asked, looking over to Rick with panicked eyes.
"We go find him, simple as that," Kei answered. The leader rubbed his mouth with a frutrated sigh as his eyes fell to the dirt.
"Rick!"
Everyone heard a loud and frantic shout. Ren and Ame perked up and looked around every which way.
"Rick!"
Kei turned around sharply, her eyes widening when she saw Shane trudging out from the forest. Blood was covering his face from the bridge of his nose on down. Lori's eyes widened as she rushed up, only to stop halfway.
"What happened!?" She asked out frantically.
"He's armed! He's got my gun!" The disgruntled man barked.
"You okay!?" Carl asked out.
"I'm fine!” Shane yelled, “Little bastard just snuck up on me and clocked me in the face!"
Rick turned around sharply, his face chaotic and unwavering,
"Alright, Hershel! T-Dog! Get everyone back in the house! Glenn, Daryl, come with us!"
"T! I’mma need that gun!"
Shane marched up to T-Dog and the man handed over his pistol. Kei watched as Daryl hurriedly placed one of his handmade arrows in his crossbow. He stepped forward to walk on with Rick, but Kei’s hands impulsively reached out and held his wrist, gently tugging him back to stop for a moment. He turned around and stared over at her worried look.
“Just let him go, that was the plan, wasn’t it? To just let him go?!” Carol asked, her tone heightened in slight panic.
“The plan was to cut him loose far away from here,” Rick snapped back at her, “Not on our front step with a gun!”
Daryl’s lips twisted to the side a little as he moved his wrist away and gripped her hand instead, the gesture letting her know that it was going to be okay, and his expression promising that he’d be back soon. She bit her lip and let go as he fully turned to join Shane and Glenn.
“Don’t go out there! Y’all know what can happen!” Carol yelped.
“Get everyone back in the house, lock all the doors, and stay put!” The leader shouted while walking off quickly towards the the forest. Kei watched with a worried expression as Daryl, Glenn, and Shane followed closely beside Rick, entering the woods to go find Randall.
“Alright let’s go, let’s go, in the house!” Andrea called.
T-Dog and Andrea helped round up the group and quickly herded them back to the house, locking all the doors behind them.
Hours went by. The sun had gone down behind the mountains and the moon had come up in its place. The group all sat there in tense silence, waiting for one—no, all of the men in the forest to return with good news.
Hopefully, good news.
LINK stood in the living room and stared out the window, looking for any sign of life out there in the forest. The rest sat around on the couches and chairs silently. Ren and Ame were outside on the porch, guarding the farmhouse door intently.
“I’m going after them,” Andrea announced. She stood up to walk forward, but Lori beat her to it,
“Don’t,” She let out sternly, “They could be anywhere. And if Randall comes back, we’re gonna need you here.”
Just then, the front door swung open and a set of footsteps walked inside. Everyone turned to see Daryl and Glenn walking in, the two of them alive and unscathed. Kei let out an audible sigh of relief, as did Maggie as she rushed up to him.
“Rick and Shane ain’t back?” Daryl asked while looking around the room.
“No,” Lori answered with a shake of her head.
“We heard a shot,” Daryl remarked.
“Well maybe they found Randall,” Lori reasoned. Daryl shook his head,
“We found him,”
“Is he back in the shed?” Patricia asked. Daryl glanced at her, and then back to Lori,
“He’s a Walker.”
“Did you find the Walker that bit him?” Hershel asked. Glenn looked at him, his eyes muddled with confusion,
“No, the weird thing is…he wasn’t bit,”
“His neck was broke,” Daryl finished. Kei’s eyebrows knitted together as everyone else fell silent.
“So he fought back,” Patricia spoke, fiddling with her necklace in anxiousness.
“The thing is, Shane and Randall’s tracks were right on top of each other,” Daryl explained with narrowed eyes, “And Shane ain’t no tracker, so he didn’t come up behind him...They were together.”
Lori walked up to him and clasped her hands together, putting them in front of her mouth,
“Could you please get back out there, find Rick and Shane, and find out what on earth is goin on?”
Daryl nodded his head without hesitation and shouldered his crossbow,
“You got it,”
Lori gave him a small thank you and sighed as Daryl walked off into the dining room. Glenn and Andrea followed after him, the three of them getting ready to go back out there. Kei perked up when she heard barking from outside. It wasn't their usual warning for walkers or enemies, it was different. She turned around and looked out the window before walking over to the door,
“Where are you going?” Lori asked out, turning towards her with a worried look in her face. Kei put her hand on the door handle,
“I’m just stepping out to see what they're barking about,” She answered, “It might be Rick and Shane.”
Lori’s lips twisted to the side as she gave her a small nod. Kei opened up the door and stepped out onto the porch, shivering a little as the cold night air brushed up against her. Her dark eyes strained to see through the dark for Rick and Shane. Nothing.
She turned to see her two companions jump straight up onto their paws and growl out towards the darkness. Her eyebrows knitted together.
“What’s the matter, guys?” | d2da4b5a80c94aa389c4de4cce1d3ab7 | ['6472ead4e2934b3b917b7bc5eeb727f8'] | Her eyes instantly shut as she let out a small “ _oh_ ,” a finger brushing against her clit, making pleasure shoot up her spine. Her lips parted and her chest rose high as she gasped, groaning as Daryl slipped a finger inside her. For a moment she forgot to exhale, holding her breath and then releasing it in a rush. She groaned as he probed shallowly at her entrance to spread some of her wetness upward, sliding up and circling around her clit. She let out an audible whimper, one that made even Daryl make a noise as well. God, she was so sexy to him.
"Look at me," He commanded in a single breath. He pulled back slightly to watch her, seeing her dark eyes wide open and completely focused on him. Her small chest rose and fell heavily, her eyebrows knitted as his two fingers continued to rub and slide against her folds. The look she gave him made him let out a light groan and he caught her mouth with his, forcing his tongue past her teeth. He broke away and gently nipped at her jaw, twisting his fingers inside her and making her hips suddenly buck off the floor. Her jaw immediately dropped and she let out a yelp, her hand instantly covering her mouth. Daryl instantly froze and they looked at each other with wide eyes. Kei started to shake under him, laughing into the palm of her hand. Daryl on the other hand still had a wide-eyed look on his face,
"You okay?!" Kei let her hand fall to her side and gave him a firm nod, still shaking as she giggled. She heard Daryl let out a huff of releif before leaning forward to kiss her on the forehead.
"Jesus," He said with ain airy laugh, "Thought I hurt ya."
"No, no, no, oh my god," She assured, reaching up to wrap her arms around him, "It just felt really good."
"Yeah?"
"Mhm," She mumbled, her head falling back again as Daryl gently brushed her clit with his thumb. Slowly he started up again, Kei's hips meeting his every thrust before her breathing grew frantic. She held him close and panted for him to go harder, his moving becoming rough and frantic. Her mouth fell as the pleasure built up inside her, her heart racing and her mind drawing a complete blank. Daryl pressed his lips to her ear and whispered to her how good she felt, how it drove him crazy seeing her like this, and how he wanted to see her cum for him.
She inhaled sharply as her eyes screwed shut, her body locking around his fingers as Daryl continued to move them in an out of her in frantic movements. It wasn't long before she froze up and let out a sharp gasp, her body trembling and clenching around his fingers. Her hips began bucking widly and Daryl held her close as she let out a swear, her face burying itself into his thick shoulder. She let out a drawn out squeal in her throat before her head fell back and she let out a much needed breath.
"Holy shit," She panted heavily, putting a hand to her forehead as she laughed, "Holy fucking shit...oh my god..."
Daryl carefully slid his fingers out of her, watching closely as her body visibly shook and shivered. He watched as her chest rose and fell, a warm sated smile on her face as she spraweled out under him like a cat. The sight just made him want her even more.
"Yer fuckin' gorgeous," He let out, suddenly surprised himself that he let that slip. The smile on Kei's lips grew, and she held up one hand to him, curling her index finger repeatedly.
"Come here,"
He leaned down and smiled as she arched her back under him, his throat vibrating as she sucked and nipped at his collarbone. She broke away and lifted her hips as one hand slid down into her underwear and past the curve off her ass. He grabbed a handful and kneaded it, making her squeak and laugh as he pushed her panties down to her thighs. He stood up to his knees and slid the fabric off her slender legs, tossing them aside. His heated blue eyes wandered over her for a minute; from her full lips and flushed cheeks, to her dark hooded eyes and creamy skin that looked so soft and devourable.
He leaned back down and rested himself between her legs, slipping one hand between them to grip his cock. He gently rubbed himself against her a few times, earning a small moan and a mischievous smile from the girl under him. She parted her legs a little more for him and he slowly slid himself into her, moaning at how slick she really was from her previous orgasm.
He wrapped his arms around her head, cradling her as he rocked his hips against hers. She let her head fall back, closing her eyes and moaning when he placed light, fluttering kisses on her exposed throat. Her finger nails ran down his back, lightly scratching over the scars, sending tingling sensations down the hunter’s spine. He let out an audible “ _ungh_ ,” as her hands went from his back to his hair, gripping it as she let out a gasp of pleasure.
“Shit,” She breathed, her eyes shutting instantly as he thrusted into her, “Oh my god.” |
bfaa609fc4484118b574b1151a424445 | ['647a7939ef354dc79e620b16001b25fc'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> Yo I’m gonna apologize in advance bc this first chapter is like super short. I promise the nest one will be actually good lmao
Keith had been acting... off lately. He was more jittery than usual, and yesterday all throughout the day, whenever anyone tried to touch him, he seemed to jump or flinch and, honest to god, Lance was sure he heard him hiss after he’d patted him on the back during training.
That wasn’t out of the ordinary, though. Keith was never the most touchy-feely person.
What _was_ out of the ordinary, was that the next day, he had been almost the opposite, completely desperate for any touch as if he’d never even seen another human being in his entire life— which, to be completely honest, no one was complaining about. The only people he really seemed drawn to were Lance and Shiro, neither of which were upset about the sudden desperate need to cuddle that Keith had apparently developed.
After those two days though, Keith... basically disappeared, along with other necessities— food and water pouches were missing from the kitchen, along with eight boxes of the protein bars kept in the training deck, and a variety of blankets and pillows, all stolen exclusively from Lance and Shiro’s rooms. On top of all that, Keith’s door was locked shut.
On the fourth day or whatever weird shit was happening, Coran and Allura pulled Shiro and Lance aside after training, when they were both sweaty and gross.
”Paladins,” Coran started, carefully, “I’m afraid that Keith has— well, at least, we believe that he may have—“
Allura cut him off with a flat glare.
”From the bits of information gathered since Keith started acting up four, um... cycles ago, we have concluded that he’s gone into heat, and since both of you seem to be his chosen mates, it would only make sense for you to... aid him. Ease him through his first heat, if you will.”
After finishing, Allura looked back up at Shiro, glancing between him and Lance’s concerned faces.
Lance, of course, was the first to speak up.
“Hey, Uh.. Yeah, what the fuck? What— Keith’s not a cat, you know. He doesn’t— ow!” Shiro ended his sentence early with a swift love tap to the back of his head.
”Princess,” he sighed, gritting his teeth, “perhaps it would be better if you maybe explained for us— heats are not... common among humans. At all.”
Glancing down at the Princess’ flushed face, Shiro realized that that maybe wasn’t the best idea.
Allura simply sighed and shook her head, taking a short step back and pushing Coran forwards.
“Okay. I don’t think the Princess is too excited to talk about this... sensitive subject— but never fear! I’d be, Uh, more than happy to explain for you..”
He did not seem more than happy.
”You see, when Alteans and apparently Galra are.. when they reach an age at which they are... able to mate and bear pups, they go into heat— similar to the way that cats and dogs do on earth, from what I’m told. It is basically a week-long period where they are.. desperate to find mates for themselves so that they can bear pups and— relieve themselves, like I’m sure Keith needs to right now. He has apparently selected the both of you to, well... satisfy him.”
There was— an indescribable awkward minute or two where no one said anything, and Shiro and Lance sort of just stood there and let that information soak in.
Once again, Lance spoke up first, voicing his.. rather strong opinion.
”Mates? Usually it’s one. Or.. y’know, none.”
Coran screwed up His nose, moustache twitching in a way that made Shiro want to smile a little in spite of himself.
”I was not aware that humans only chose one mate. On Altea, it is common for those in Heat to choose at least two mates to fulfill their needs, seeing as they often have a strong desire to... give, as well as receive. It is nothing to be ashamed of though! If I recall correctly, I was the middle man in quite a few mating ceremonies! It can be quite the stress-reliever—“
Allura made a pained grunt and slapped a hand over Coran’s mouth, shoving him back once more.
”What Coran is trying to say, is... Keith’s scent is completely overpowering the entire ship. It’s impossible to focus, and while you might not be able to pick up on it, even though you’re the ones he’s releasing the cursed drug go attract. Please just go help him. I understand that there is some taboo surrounding mating in your culture, even though Lance seems to ignore that anyways, but understand that this is a natural part of life for him and us now. If not for his strong and very, very apparent desire for you two, it would have been Coran and I in there aiding him. This is a stressful time for him.”
On that last part, Shiro’s face seemed to soften a bit.
“Understood, Princess. We will do what we can,” he paused and elbowed Lance, who was completely frozen, in the side, “won’t we, _Lance_?”
Lance jolted, his face flushed, and nodded
”Um— yes, ma’am! We— We can certainly try.” He swallowed hard, his smile a bit too wide.
”Excellent! Just remember to stay away from his nest unless you are invited in, and make sure he is happy, and you’ll be perfectly fine. Besides, I’m sure there’s nothing to be afraid of! It’s still the same old Keith in there, just... you know, absurdly aroused.”
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hey look it’s the actual porn | 528fcaacbfdd4fa5ada8aea75d8a42b1 | ['647a7939ef354dc79e620b16001b25fc'] | Slowly, after their talk with Allura, the two made their way down the painfully long hallways of the castle. Lance kept clearing his throat and fidgeting and stopping randomly until finally, Shiro placed a firm hand on his shoulder and sighed, stopping him completely.
“What’s-“
”I’m a virgin.”
Lance stared up at Shiro, his face flushed. He fiddled with his hands in front of his chest, anxiously awaiting Shiro’s reply. When it didn’t come, he decided to continue.
”I— I’m like really worried and kind of scared that— that you and Keith will be some kind of freaky sex experts and that I’m not gonna be able to... help him. As much as you can.” He swallowed hard, digging his nails into his palms.
Shiro stood there for a few seconds, his grip tightening on his shoulder.
“Lance, that’s— rediculous. Do you think he’ll care? He already chose us, it’s not like he can just go back on that if he finds out this is your first time— and it’s not like I care.” He laughed softly, pulling him a bit closer.
”No, but— I’m supposed to be a ladies’ man, and I’ve never even kissed anyone! And now I’m just supposed to waltz on in there and have to— help some poor guy in heat and lose my virginity and probably kiss someone and I’m gonna, like, start crying and I’m gonna kill the mood! Shiro-“
He sighed and pulled him into a tight hug, awkwardly petting the top of his head.
“Lance, it’s okay. It’s really nothing to worry about. How about— I can’t do... anything else, but we can get the first kiss part over with if that would make you feel any better.” He raised an eyebrow. “Would it, make you feel any better?”
Lance nodded wordlessly.
Slowly, Shiro pulled him in, stroking through the hairs at the back of his neck gently as he pressed his chapped, cracked lips to Lance’s soft ones. Lance almost immediately melted against him, his entire body turning into relaxed jelly as he felt Shiro press into him when he pulled away.
”See? Not that big of a deal..” he smiled warmly and pecked the top of his head, rubbing his back gently. “Now. Keith needs us right about now. Are you okay?”
Lance nodded again and kissed Shiro’s chin gently before pulling him off down the hall with renewed confidence.
* * *
The two stood, staring at the suddenly very foreboding door in front of them. Usually they were just a part of life, but now, who knew what was behind it...
Shiro was the first to move, stepping up to knock on the door gently. There was a vague hissing noise from behind it, and Shiro sighed.
“Keith? Keith, it’s us. You’re okay. Can you please let us in? We just want to help you. We know what’s happening, and we want to.. work through it with you.”
There was shuffling from behind the door, along with a quiet tapping noise, and suddenly, the door whirred open. Keith was nowhere to be seen, but god, could they smell him.
Lance, who had been holding Shiro’s human hand since they kissed, squeezed down hard, swallowing.
”What— What is that? Can you smell that, too?” He chewed his lip, looking up at Shiro. His eyes went wide.
Shiro stood, his brow furrowed, jaw clenched, robot arm flexing and relaxing rapidly. Holy shit. Whatever that smell was, it was driving him absolutely insane.
”Yes, I can. Let’s just..” He cleared his throat and yanked Lance into the room, listening to the door close behind him.
There was a soft whining noise from the closet.
“Uhm— hello? Keith? Are we— can we...”
”Yes,” He rasped. “Need you— please, it hurts so bad, Shiro..”
Shiro yanked Lance further in, pulling the door open quickly.
There was Keith, laying in a hollow pile of blankets and old shirts and dirty pairs of pants that made up his pillows. That was easy to ignore, though, when you noticed the fact that Keith was entirely naked with four fingers buried in his ass and his back was arched off the nest. He was covered in his own jizz and sweat and probably spit, judging by his fingers hooked on his mouth.
“Keith, can we-“
”Yes! Fuck, Shiro, it hurts so bad-“
”Hey, it’s okay..” Shiro let go of Lance’s hand and flopped down into the nest, pulling Keith into his lap slowly.
Keith stared up at Lance, lips parted as he tried desperately to catch his breath, air leaving him in short, punched-out puffs. Without a word, he held his arms out to him, which required him to pull his fingers out of himself.
Shiro was right there to help. As Lance sat down carefully in his lap and started slowly grinding his hips against him, he carefully slid his prosthetic’s fingers into him and watched as Keith’s face twisted up and his back arched as he came yet again.
“Fu— ha! Fuck, shit, I need-“
Shiro cut him off yet again with a soft cooing noise and buried his face in his neck, licking over two raised bumps with the flat of his tongue when they made themselves apparent to him. Lance did the same and was shocked to find that the same was on the other side, and upon pressing down into them with his front teeth and chewing a bit, he realized that—
“Shiro-“ He took a deep, possessive breath.
“I know.” Shiro growled lowly, making Lance and Keith whimper in response as they huddled against each other, Lance still lapping at the bumps to try and coax out more of whatever the hell that amazing smell was, now that he knew that Keith was the source.
”It’s okay...” Lance started, pulling away to cup one of Keith’s cheeks and stare down at him. “We’re here now. We’ve got you. Don’t worry.” |
f751d7b9a00f443cbbeba01d5db6c480 | ['647ac539cedd449993ea3379c19d5103'] | the spider & the genius
Tony didn’t know how to feel. Laying back against something he couldn’t bother to figure out with six colorful pebbles currently destroying his body, vision blurring and blacking as three figures stood above him. _Peter_. _God, if that kid manages to get himself killed, Tony’s coming back to haunt him._ He wanted to tell him he was proud. That the boy helped him prepare for Morgan; that he couldn’t explain to him how much he cared. He felt weak, struggling to breathe, as he tried form _something_ like English. He’s always been a talkative person; witty comments were laced in his DNA. He could probably count all the times he wasn’t rambling on one hand, this included. It didn’t feel right that he had absolutely nothing to say. He couldn’t tell Pepper how much he loves her and tell Rhodey _thank you._
Tony blinked and Pepper was right in front of him smiling. “Hey Pep,” he whispered, and the effort of speaking caved down painfully into his chest. It was worth it to him; Pepper will always be worth it. It’s always been her.
They used to be all each other had, before Morgan and before the Avengers. Age had done her well, and Tony couldn’t help but think of how the crinkles by her eyes and lines around her mouth we’re because of him. Her kind eyes glassy but so focused and he couldn’t help but fall in love with her all over again. She leaned towards him. All of the millions of thoughts always running through his head, even now, melted away just for her. “We’re going to be okay. You can rest now.” She murmured like a promise. Something eased in his chest and for the last time in his five years of euphoria, Tony let himself rest.
-
Dying was a lot more boring than he thought. The guy who ran the ‘Soul World’ (Tony thought it sounded like a zumba jazz place, but he didn’t bother to bring it up) was a bit of an asshole and looked like if Steve, Barnes, and Thor had a Californian baby. When the aforementioned man told Tony his name, he genuinely tried his best not to laugh. What kind of powerful purgatory wizard of cosmic ability allows himself to be called ‘Adam Warlock’ without being part of an SNL skit? Nevertheless, Warlock sent him walking towards nothingness after their brief meeting.
Tony was getting antsy wandering. His hands were shaking because they were empty. There’s nothing to occupy them. No little girl to hand feed cheeseburgers because she gets lazy or superhero gadget to fiddle with. His head ran wild with thoughts that festered and grew. There was no telling how much time passed. The simplicity of purgatory was crawling up his chest like a plague. There was no stopping, though. If he stopped walking, the genius knew he’d go crazy.
Then, a shock of red waves crashing into blonde came into view. He physically pulled back just to bask in the fact that he found her. That, in the vast emptiness, there’s someone he could spend nothing with. In his shock, she sensed someone else around her and met his gaze. Something lit up in her familiar green eyes and she started running. Like a little girl, she collapsed into him and he was ready to catch her. Natasha encircled her arms around his back, strong and sure. Tony felt her start to shake and he held her even tighter.
“Agent Romanoff, you miss me?” | eb7145bd076e44a0b155a8c470e47074 | ['647ac539cedd449993ea3379c19d5103'] | cracked skin
grantaire slung his paint stained bag over a broad shoulder, slamming his messy locker closed. he ran a hand down his face, exhaustion praying for the comforts of his bed. he walked down the empty hallways. it felt alien when the school was silent. the weird smells of too much fragrance and sweat had disappeared. the teen smiled to himself, pulling his phone out to call courfeyrac when a cacophonous sound bounced along the poster-filled walls. dark blue eyes filled with shock. he made his way to the music room not far from him.
a lean figure draped in red stood still, hands supporting an expensive looking violin. the raven haired teen watched silently. he had held his breath in as if it were to blow the seemingly statue-like person away. the bow moved, after a pregnant pause. long fingers in a careful dance around the strings. grantaire let out a silent sigh. a sound deep and broken he hadn't known could come from such an instrument. notes fit together in melancholic matrimony, tugging at his heart. he stood listening to him play, thoughts of deep cool colors layering on a canvas filled his head. dark hues of that approached black like the stranger's devil playing a final sonata. suddenly, the music stopped. it crashed, ending sharply and making his nose wrinkle up.
grantaire came upon a pair of eyes- much brighter than his, striking at him with power that left him breathless. intense shock of blue, akin to lightning leaving temporary scars across the dusky gray sky.
"i wasn't aware someone else would be here." the stranger muttered. he stepped closer; the artificial lights from the halls brightened his face. grantaire was staring much longer than necessary, but he couldn't dare to look away. the musician reminded him of a god; features both strong and soft creating an unfairly beautiful portrait. curly golden locks (that were much more well-kempt than his) fell in front of an eye, feigning purity that seemed to be a much thinner mask for something much more powerful.
"i'm sorry, i got held up after class working on a project and i heard you playing. i don't mean to seem creepy or anything. but, you play really well." grantaire apologized as soon as he regained focus, staring somewhere that wasn't the boy's face. it didn't work that well since every part of him was captivating. "grantaire. you can call me r." he added on quickly after. he wasn't sure what this greek god was thinking of him, but he was definite that it wasn't very positive. enjolras walked further towards him to shake his hand, exposing more of his face to him.
"i-thank you. it's fine if you listened, i don't mind." a pause. "oh, i'm gabriel enjolras. but, i prefer enjolras." a name! at least, a nickname. uncommon and befitting for him. enjolras walked further towards him to shake his hand, exposing more of his face to him.
as he thought, the blond was more than prepossessing. mostly. the boy had only one visible flaw. dark bags hung below those enchanting pools of ocean. a minute sin that reminded grantaire that statues of gods cracked. the marble shields would crumble, leaving mortality amidst clouds of dust. enjolras had a facade of innocence. his face was youthful; there was still small evidence of baby fat that hadn't fully gone away. unmarked barely tanned skin disrupted by those heavy purple circles. sapphire eyes hummed unintelligible secrets and screamed an age much older than they should be.
grantaire opened his mouth and reached out his hand as well, but only a whisper spilled from his lips, "pleased to meet you, apollo." |
1d8be6db0a2d4b88a2d57a1cdd4cc9b3 | ['648c3162407149ff8cce0f37367edf34'] | Vincent doesn't seem to mind the question, “ I wanted to see you. There is something I need to talk to you about. “ Cloud wonders if this is the we have to stop seeing you thing. “ I created a special bond with Cid. We want to extend the offer to you as well. “
Cloud's brow furrows a little, “ A special bond? “
Vincent gives a slight nod, “ Our life energies will be connected. It is hard to to describe. We would be sharing a very intimate bond. Your lives will connected to mine. No more aging. It also means watching everyone you know pass on without you. “
Cloud is a little stunned by the offer. The idea is tempting. To have a connection even more special and they wanted to share this with him. The downside is also very disturbing. Not sure he wants to watch everyone he knows die. It was hard enough to lose Zack and Aerith. A gift both wonderful and horrible at the same time. Vincent is bound to live for many years.
Vincent, “ There is something you do need to know. Chaos tells me you are connected to someone else. “
Cloud looks confused for a moment. The answer comes to him, “ Zack. If I accepted, what would happen to that bond? “
Vincent, “ I am not certain. It could break. It could change in nature. I do know that it won't be the same. “
Cloud, “ Does Cid know you're offering this to me, too? “
Vincent, “ Yes. He is okay with me offering you to join us. More worried that you might feel obliged to accept. He wants you to know you can say no. This must be something you want. “
Cloud doesn't need to think long on the offer, “ Its strange ton actually have a choice. I do appreciate the offer but I can't accept. I care for you both but I don't want to lose what I have left of Zack. I want to see him again. “ Cloud knows he has to follow his heart.
Vincent doesn't seem to be surprised, “ It will be okay, Cloud. You share a special bond with Zack. “
Cloud gives a relieved smile, “ I still love him a lot. “
Vincent, “ Death does not mean you have to stop loving him. “ His eyes close and reopen to show a golden glow. His eyes flicker back to a normal dull red. Take a hold of Cloud's hand with his human one, “ Tonight we have a special surprise planned for you. “ Rubbing the palm with his thumb. “ When the children go to bed, I will devour you. “ Cloud's cute flush makes him even more delectable.
They wait a bit after the children are sent to bed. Last thing they need is an angry Barret accusing them of exposing Marlene to perversions. Cloud isn't even certain if they should be doing this. That still does not stop him from leading Vincent to his bedroom.
Vincent helps undress the smaller man. Starting with his feet and suckling on a big toe. Cloud's taste is unique, with a tangy aftertaste only those exposed to mako retain. His shirt is yanked off without ceremony. Not that anyone cares. Last but not least, his pants and underwear. Clothing is dumped on the floor. The ex-turk sampling the younger man. Tongue licking those perfect abs up to his chest. Biting his nipples and giving little tugs. Without much warning he pushing those legs apart, getting Cloud ready. He wants his dessert properly crème filled.
Vincent, “ You are so delicious. “ Cloud can't help but buck his hips, trying not to be loud. “ I should have brought Cid's gag. “
Cloud's cheeks really turn pink with the mental picture of Cid helplessly bound up with a gag in his mouth. “ Maybe next time... “ Uses his own hand to stifle the moans. Vincent's finger pressing that bundle of nerves.
Vincent takes his younger lover, mouths locked in passionate kisses. One thrusting hard into the other. Cloud feels himself rushing toward orgasm as he clings to the ex-turk. The two cum, Cloud pressing his nails into Vincent's back. Vincent gives Cloud a moment to recover before pulling away.
Vincent, “ Now, its time to eat you. “ With the spell cast, a smaller Cloud now looks so small and helpless before him. Carefully puts Cloud on a dessert plate. Cloud makes a cute little noise as the caramel sauce is drizzled all over him.
Cloud does protest a little, “ Hey, watch the hair. “
Vincent in a deadpan voice, “ Food does not talk. “
Cloud gives a flirty smile, “ Then eat me already. “ Licking his own hand as a tease.
Vincent lifts the plate up, as if Cloud is a dainty pastry. Starts by sucking Cloud in feet first. The taste of Cloud's flesh and sauce prove to be a true delight on his tongue. His only regret is not doing this sooner. Sucks in more of Cloud, taking his time. Tilts his head back, letting Cloud slide down the back of his throat. Enjoys the feeling of his treat being pulled deeper inside him. All too soon, Cloud finds himself inside Vincent's stomach.
Cloud curls up, snuggling against a layer of stomach wall, “ Is it really okay that I choose Zack over you guys? “
Vincent lays down and gives his stomach some gentle rubs, “ Yes, it is. “
Cloud, “ The caramel was a great surprise. “
Vincent, “ That was not the surprise. Now, close your eyes. “ | 5e6650c6ce9f44a4adb4b50dda5d26b3 | ['648c3162407149ff8cce0f37367edf34'] | Vincent settles on the other side of Cloud, “ I trust you, chief. “
Cid sits up and starts telling him how he found himself escaping the noise of the world with Vincent. Cloud settles back into the hold of Vincent. The first time in a long time, he feels part of a special secret.
(( Note: I am open to requests ))
3. Chapter 3 The Basilisk
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> They go after a Basilisk! Someone gets hurt.
> Chaos takes things into his own clawed hands.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I am little surprised at how many people seem to read this. Thanks for the Kudos!
> I plan for the next chapter to be more goofy then this.
>
> No worries, I don't like having fatal digestion to main characters.
Chapter 3 The Basilisk
Cloud brings Fenrir to a halt close to a cave. The only other person waiting for him, is the quiet ex-turk. He knows tonight they are hunting a very dangerous beast, making sure to bring Fusion blade with him.
Cloud, “ I'm surprised Cid isn't here. “
Vincent, “ I have him stationed outside the local town. “ He doesn't add that he rather Cid not be included in this fight.
Cloud doesn't give it much more thought, “ You think the nest is in there? “
Vincent nods towards the entrance they will be using, “ The basilisk nest is in there. “ The Basilisk is a terrible winged creature that can kill with a glance, or so people claim. They look more like over grown lizard and less like dragons. Vincent is certain they can take the monsters down.
They both carefully enter the cave. The travel is slow, as the route is dimly lit and they are trying to keep that element of surprise. Between the two of them, and their enhancements, the dim lighting is not a real issue. The passage is not very wide, a times making the two men squeeze by. There is even the occasional a slimy feel to the rocks. Vincent can hear the sound of the beasts followed by the smell. Its still bad enough for his nose to wrinkle in disgust. The nest itself in a chamber with a hole in the ceiling. The three nests sit next along the walls, leaving the center for the returning monsters. Broken bones littering the ground. Hard to tell how many eggs are in the nests, as a creature seems settled on top. Sound of some outside, guarding the main entrance of the nest.
Both men are well used to each others fighting style. No words need to be spoken, just a few hand gestures. They begin their attack, with Cloud taking aim nesting mothers and Vincent taking aim for anything that tries to enter the cave. Head topples from the first kill, cleanly cut off with Fusion sword. Cloud moving to the other two beasts. The others cry out in alarm, bringing the guards in. Cloud dodging attacks, with Vincent firing his gun, and illuminating the dim room with bright flashes from Cerberus. Soon enough the adults lay dead in the chamber. That left the grim task of destroying the eggs.
Cloud, “ Is that it? “ Asking with a hopeful voice. Killing the unborn is not his idea of a fun time. Cloud has seen what these things can do to people. An enraged scream of a Basilisk echoes through the cavern. “ I guess not. “
The last beast looking down upon the slaughtered remains of its family. Cloud feels the creature glare in his direction and the tingle of a death spell. The only thing that saves his life is the protect ribbon on his arm. A shot rings out, forcing the Basilisk to fly off.
Vincent could curse his luck. If the beasts kills anyone now, their death will be upon him, “ We must catch it. “
~~~~~
Cid doesn't mind giving people rides to their destinations. Sometimes he doesn't mind having to hang back. He knows he has his limitations. The only reason he isn't pacing, Cid knows both are highly skilled men, He almost pities the beasts. Almost. He has the easy part of just hanging around.
Both Cloud and Vincent have become very important to him. More then mere comrades. Cloud is such an innocent and makes a great bottom. Vincent has a hidden passion and likes to be dominate. Cid takes what he can get. Having such different lovers is rather fun.
His airship sits outside the city itself with dusk presenting a lovely scenic view. This view would be perfect with a smoke in one hand and a beer in the other. Shame he quit smoking. Hard to ignore that growing feeling in his gut that the peace is about to end.
Cloud calls on the PHS, “ Cid, one of the basilisks escaped. How close is it to the city? “
Cid gets special goggles out, looking in the direction Vincent went. There is a shape of something flying towards the city itself. The shaping growing closer and an impressive speed. Even with the distance, he can tell its an impressive size.
Cid, “ Fuck... Yeah I see it. Coming in fast. “
Cloud, “ Try to delay it, Cid! Just don't let it look you in the eyes. It has a death spell. “
Cid, “ Oh @#&^ joy... I'll do my best. “ Grabs for Venus Gospel on the way out to the top deck. Once there, uses a small craft, that looks like a flying scooter. The airship is too small to take on this type of creature. The last thing they need is a falling aircraft near a city. With spear in hand, he jumps, landing on the back of the winged Basilisk, using his weight to help spear the monster. Only after his jump, will he start to regret this idea. |
417a666deb1c4264a580fbef37628936 | ['648c8f716b344481b53201cf09710a32'] | It’s barely been a few hours since Jimin left but he misses Jihyun already. He supposes he’ll never get used to the ache in his chest that makes its appearance whenever he has to leave his brother. He remembers this time, to text Jihyun right then and there that he’s landed safely, because his brother was sick and tired of finding out through the fansites. _ I’m your brother and I demand special treatment, _ he has said, _ I’m your only fansite who’s going to be sticking around when you’re old and wrinkled as well so you better treat me right. _
Jimin spent most of his time with Jihyun. Jihyun kept him busy. They went to the beach, played video games, went to visit people that Jimin hadn’t seen in years. Being kept busy and being a content kind of exhausted by the end of the day meant that Jimin didn’t get much time to think. Now, as he retrieves his bag from the overhead compartment, he can’t help but start to dread seeing Taehyung again.
He wraps his scarf around his neck, then turns to do the same for Jeongguk, who’s too sleepy to coordinate his movements properly. Jeongguk smiles and pats Jimin’s head softly in response. Then Jeongguk frowns. “You’re worrying,” he observes, attempting to poke the crease between Jimin’s eyebrows, only he misses and ends up almost poking Jimin’s eye out. “Don’t worry.”
Jimin shakes his head. “I’m not worrying.” He doesn’t even sound convincing to himself, so he’s not surprised when Jeongguk scoffs and puts one of his own earphones into Jimin’s ear. Some soft classical music is playing, not Jeongguk’s usual sugar pop, and it calms Jimin. He shoots the younger a grateful smile, and Jeongguk nods.
Jimin keeps his attention focused on the notes of the music until they turn into the road where their dorm is situated. Then he feels a jolt of anxiety, and then feels a corresponding one coming from Taehyung. Taehyung must not be home yet, Jimin can’t feel his emotions strong enough. A little bit of relief seeps through Jimin, and he tries to suppress it.
It’s not like he doesn’t want to meet Taehyung. Of course he does. But he also doesn’t, because it feels like they’re meeting under completely different circumstances. Jimin knows it’s going to be like coming back to your house and finding it painted in a different color with all the furniture moved around. Would it still his house? Yes. But it’ll feel too different.
Seokjin opens the door for them, complete in a floppy sweater, lopsided glasses and mussed up hair that suggests he’s been playing his computer games since he woke up not too long ago, phone sandwiched between his shoulder and ear. He greets them with a gleeful “My babies!” and pulls them into a big hug. Jimin immediately feels more at home.
“Who’re you talking to?” asks Jeongguk, dumping his bags on the couch and flopping down on top of them. “If it’s Hoseok hyung, tell him that my mom sent extra special hotteok for him.”
“Actually, I’m talking to Taetae and Yoongs,” says Seokjin, removing the phone from his ear and putting the call on speaker. Jimin’s lips quirk up a bit at the way Seokjin calls Yoongi _ Yoongs. _ Yoongi hates nicknames. Only Seokjin gets away with it because he’s older. “Say hi.”
Both Yoongi’s and Taehyung’s deep voices chorus together in a drawn out _ hiiiiiii. _ Once Jimin and Jeongguk have responded similarly, Taehyung starts ranting about how they’re going to be stuck in the airport for another three hours because their flight got delayed. Seokjin leaves the phone with Jimin and Jeongguk and goes to make breakfast.
Jimin’s apprehension dies down a bit as the conversation proceeds, Jeongguk talking about how he got a little tipsy on New Year’s after his parents let him have some while the adults were drinking, and then proceeded to attempt to teach his older brother and all of his younger cousins the entire choreography for Blood, Sweat and Tears until his mother told him it was too inappropriate for twelve year olds.
The conversation is easier, because Yoongi and Jeongguk are there too. He and Taehyung only texted in the last four days, never anything too serious - only mundane details of their days and bursts of spam in the form of meme pictures they made of their siblings. Forced nonchalance, in a desperate effort on Jimin’s part to not let the conversation evolve into anything of substance.
Jimin is predominantly impersonal over text. Hearing Taehyung’s voice again doesn’t inspire the freakout that Jimin thought it might. Jimin knows there’s an eventual freakout coming. He doesn’t know when. But at some point, it’s going to happen. It might not even be him freaking out. But it will happen.
Of _ course _ he understood what Taehyung meant by _ we could try. _ It was easy to trust when Taehyung had said, _ how could it go wrong? We’re soulmates. _
But it was also to realize, once he decided to spare a couple thoughts on the subject, how exactly it could go wrong. Simply because they were Taehyung and Jimin. Jimin and Taehyung. Best friends first, soulmates next. How were they supposed to get to the soulmates part when they could barely break through the best friend packaging?
Whenever Jimin had thought of his soulmate, he hadn’t really imagined Taehyung. He’d imagined someone calmer, softer, with a gentle laugh, maybe someone who he hadn’t been friends with for long enough to destroy the possibility of him ever liking them. He hadn’t really assigned them a gender. Early on, he thought it might have been a girl, but halfway through his teens he realized gender didn’t matter all that much in his relationships.
So the fact that Taehyung was a boy was never a problem. Just that Taehyung was… Taehyung. | b11298ce5e39415ca3200d7c02cd3ab2 | ['648c8f716b344481b53201cf09710a32'] | “Jimin,” Namjoon speaks with the patience of a man who’s built an entire city with his bare hands. “It’s been _ five days. _ ”
“What is your point? You’re supposed to fall in love with your soulmate that quick! They’re supposed to be perfect for you!” Jimin sounds like an indignant child and is fully aware of it. “And there are other reasons I can’t fall for him. I can’t! I know too much!”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Namjoon is speaking a lot calmer than Jimin, trying to neutralize Jimin. “What do you mean, you know too much? Only if you know a person well enough, you’ll know if they’re right for y—”
“I don’t think he’s talking about that,” Taehyung’s deep voice slices through their conversation. “I think he’s talking about the fact that I’m in love with Hoseok hyung.”
The silence caused by that admission is so quiet that if a pin was dropped in the room, they’d know exactly where it fell. Namjoon looks between Taehyung, who looks like he’s completely aware that he’s messing everything up and will still go with it, and Jimin, who’s staring at Taehyung trying to figure out what exactly he stood to gain from admitting that.
The door slams suddenly, and speak of the devil, Hoseok walks in, lugging a large suitcase, the apples of his cheeks flushed red with the cold. He has a small smile on his face, the travel-worn version of his full-faced grin. He looks at the other three in the room, looking at him with expressions of varying degrees of alarm.
“What’s going on?” Hoseok asks, gaze switching from face to face, concern running in his words. “I got an earlier flight so I could come home earlier, are you not happy to see me?” He tries for another smile, but it falters. He knows something is wrong.
Jimin’s panic is on a steady rise, and he can feel Taehyung’s panic levels becoming elevated as well, and this time there’s no one to break the resonance, because all of them are frozen.
Taehyung’s knees crumple first, head spinning as he crashes to the floor. Hoseok lets out a distressed cry, and Namjoon, who is closer to him, snaps to attention and rushes to catch him.
Jimin barely has the time to register that Taehyung is unconscious before he blacks out himself.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> the angst ,,, when will it get better ,,, im only good at writing fluff + humor hhhh what IS THIS
5. Chapter 5
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> me writing an angst fic: has only googled synonyms for pain
> also i never clarified this before but the number of decimal points after the main coordinate determine how soon (after you get your soulmark) you meet your soulmate i.e. a higher number of decimal points means that the person will only meet their soulmate later in life, and the marks that are long enough to circle a whole wrist are called prolonged marks
Seokjin’s voice is the first thing that Taehyung hears when he wakes up.
“You’re both horrifyingly idiotic.”
It reminds him of the way his mother reprimanded him when he went cycling in the rain one day before an important exam, and to no one’s surprise, promptly come down with a cold the next day. His head feels just as heavy now. He feels like he’s slept through a couple centuries and woken up underwater.
He doesn’t quite remember what happened either. He remembers freezing like a deer in headlights when Hoseok walked in, terrified that he might have heard the most incriminating piece of information. And after that… nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Taehyung blinks with difficulty, looking around him. He’s on the double bed in his and Namjoon’s room, with Seokjin standing at the end of the bed, glaring directly at him. Yoongi stands next to him with a warning hand on Seokjin’s wrist, and Taehyung knows that’s the only reason Seokjin isn’t going off elaborating on all the reasons why he believes that they are _ horrifyingly idiotic. _
Namjoon sits by the side of the bed, Jeongguk by his side, both of them wearing worried looks on their faces, gazing at Taehyung as though he’s delicate, gazing with something that looks almost like _ pity, _ of all things. It makes Taehyung want to exit his own skin. He doesn’t want to be looked at like that. He doesn’t want them to be concerned.
Taehyung turns to his other side and finds Jimin beside him, just beginning to stir. Hoseok is standing on the other side of the bed, lips pressed together, betraying no emotion. When Taehyung catches his eyes, Hoseok gives him a small smile with no humor but just enough comfort for Taehyung to breathe a little easier and feel like he’s not completely alone.
“What happened?” Jimin groans, attempting to sit up before Namjoon pushes him gently back onto the pillows. “What did we miss?”
“We had to take you to the hospital,” says Jeongguk in a deathly quiet whisper. His lips tremble, and if Taehyung guessed that he cried, the probability that the guess is right would be higher than fifty percent. “How did you both manage to pass out at the exact same time?”
Taehyung’s glance falls to his wristband, hiding the three treacherous numbers, and hopes he doesn’t look too guilty when he looks back up at Jeongguk. There’s something knowing lurking about Namjoon’s stare, and Taehyung knows he can make an educated enough guess about the situation, because Namjoon is the only one among them who holds a degree in Soulmark Sciences.
Well, that and the fact that Namjoon just somehow notices everything.
Jimin is the one who answers - except he doesn’t answer, he avoids the question altogether. “What time is it?” |
2f69293dbcdc44aa9c1a4e91ebaeabb2 | ['64ba64834c3b4244bec8912f88617828'] | This snarl you cannot control, it rumbles out of you deep and soft, pulsing with your breath. "Do you," you say through it. "Then doubt this, motherfucker. Without me, there would be no new colony, no safe refuge for a disorderly pile of demons sick of the war, no haven of true worship, and fuck, no living contestant for the Rubellite Throne! I heard of Makekind's plans and killed the spy who told me. I arranged that she should use the rebellion as cover for an exodus. _I_ rescued Dolorosa and the Psionic from slavery, and a glorious mirthful mess that was. The sulpherblood was special pet to the Condesce, and been drained so long he was near hatchmate to catatonic." Peaceway's eyes and mouth tighten in a flinch, but he shakes it quick under your vengeful, unsatisfied watch. "I got him out from her most private airy chamber, as no other could've done, and mighty fortunate that was, as he can support entire to himself a Web unconnected to the larger one and thereby untraceable. Useful as shit he's been, once he recovered."
Those red eyes are fixed and intent on your face, but still he makes no sign to show if he's any nearer to believing you. "And is that why you took him?" he says politely. "Because he'd be useful?"
The snarl as had almost died away surges back again. "I took him," you say, baring fangs, "because how the fuck else would I persuade Makekind to get her cooperation on in alliance with me? Not that she up and gave her full trust even then, she died fighting before I got proof to show."
He looks at you a moment, then purses his lips. "Hm," he says, dismissive, and looks away, shifting his weight. "Oddly enough, she has neglected to mention you in terms of assistance so much as treachery, but even assuming your tale to be the truth, I fail to see your motive. By all accounts, you live for blood and cruelty: the war is your joy, not something you'd seek to escape."
Double God curse him, you are tired. On and on you seek to convince him and yet he is set that you are lying, that you would exert yourself to invent and tell at him a tale so implausible when rare enough do you even resort to bending the truth at all. No surprise that he should think less of you than you are, but it is unwelcome news to you that he is so laughable dense. In memory, he was all keen thought and notable insight, sharp tongue and piercing eyes, even distracted by torment as he was in your hands. (You would not treat him so now, you and he would struggle as equals, full harsh and jet but not to maim, not to break but to test and stretch limits, each against each - )
But this is not the demon you recall. In reality, or close as death and dreaming come, it seems he is stubborn to the point of blindness. He will not see you as you are, he will not value you rightly. Though he hates you for true, it is cold and platonic, and now you see him plain, the heat of your own jet feelings is fading.
It motherfucking hurts, you are way the fuck too old to be getting your spade broken, but there it is, a dull ache against your pusher. Now what?
Sore and weary of his shit, you roll your shoulders and don't bother to look at him when you speak. "As it seems you've less interest up in you at hearing what all's passed, and more in calling it false because I speak it, I'd say there's little purpose to any further speech between us. Get you gone from here."
He doesn't move. "Hm," he says, and now he sounds intrigued, _now_ you have piqued his interest. "You have visibly fought your impulses in order to meet my requirements of courtesy, you have sacrificed a certain amount of pride and comfort, all to obtain my company - and yet having done so much to this end, you would push me away for doubting your word and intentions. Are hurt feelings really worth giving up what you've gone to some trouble to get?"
"Turns out it was never up to being worth the effort."
At the corner of his eye, you see him shake his head. "Why is it so important to you that I, of all people, take your word for truth?"
That rouses you and you turn on him, fangs bared. "You would take me as less than what I am," you growl, angry and thwarted with it. "Though I tell at you straight out what I've worked for and won, you take me for a stunted fool of an imp, _unknowing of the worth_ of truth or lie, unknowing of how to tell a _believable_ lie - " Fists clenched, you break off. "Motherfucking folly this is, why am I even speaking at it," you mutter, and slant him one last look. "I _never_ underestimated you so."
His eyes widen and you can read his face clear now, he is angered at that. "Underestimated me?" he says in disbelief. "How much of the brief time we've been in some breed of conversation, now or before, have you spent insulting me, calling me names, using only the most demeaning terms towards me? _Underestimate_. You think I'm _worthless_ , you've always thought it, no consideration for my arguments or logic, if I don't parrot every one of your fucking twisted elitist beliefs I cannot possibly have anything to say worth listening to!" He's breathing hard, wings flared, hurt as clear as anger in his face, and you... | 704ab8ef69b74108b75cc6cbc93cdd50 | ['64ba64834c3b4244bec8912f88617828'] | “Mike Chilton,” Mike said cheerfully, with his usual two-fingered salute/wave.
She nods, smiling a little. “I know. The skull mask is pretty distinctive. So your boost is why the solidity lasts? Is it also why there's more detail? Because I can picture whatever I want, but if I'm trying to make it real it's gonna be kind of… fuzzy and indistinct, even for the brief moment it exists. This stuff hasn't been fuzzy.”
“I guess?” Mike said. He glanced up at the last lingering creation, a lantern floating above him. “That one’s lasted a while.”
“That one’s not real,” Ninelives said.
Mike blinked at it. “But it's lighting everything up!”
Ninelives rolled her eyes, which probably weren't actually yellow and slit-pupiled under the illusion, but what did Mike know, maybe they were. “Holograms are made of _light_ , Chilton,” she said. “That's literally the easiest thing for me to make.”
“Oh. Cool!”
She tilted her head. “Uh. Thanks.”
“That must be really handy on the outskirts, where there's like no street lamps. And you could use it like a flash grenade, yeah? Blind your enemies.”
Ninelives just stared at him for a moment. “It is actually pretty useful, yeah,” she said. “But most people don't notice that right away. Stronghorn still thinks it's a bunch of girly tricks and I should be lifting weights to try to keep up with him.”
Mike took a breath and pushed up to his feet, swaying only a little. “Haven't met him yet, but when I do I can punch him for you,” he offered.
“I'll do it myself if he needs punching,” she said, and her cat mouth stretched and curled smugly. “For a guy who thinks they're just silly lights, he does keep falling for the same tricks.”
“Nice,” Mike said, laughing, and was only a little out of breath afterwards.
Ninelives narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “You don't sound quite recovered yet, but we should really move before anyone shows up to deal with these guys. How long does your boosting trick last?”
“Oh--uh, it's not about how long, it's about how close you are to me. If you're within an arm’s length or two, I'm boosting you at full power. If you're across the street, it's not as strong, and from a few blocks away I can't do that much.”
“Okay. You like rooftops?”
“Who doesn't?” Mike said with a grin.
“Follow me,” she said, and climbed the stairs that appeared before her. Mike followed two steps behind, bright-eyed and grinning open-mouthed at how cool this was. Other heroes’ powers were so awesome to see working!
When they got to the roof of the building next to them, Mike was breathing harder than he should be, which was embarrassing. He tried to catch his breath as quietly as possible.
Ninelives looked out over the dark streets toward the nearest neon glow, a cluster of bars and clubs several blocks away. “I need to go. You can take as long as you need up here to recover, and then you should probably take the rest of the night off.”
“Nah, I'll be fine,” Mike assured her. “Hey, you wanna work together sometime? You wouldn't have to rescue me all the time, I promise, I'm usually way better than this.”
She turned to look at him. “I know,” she said, emphasizing it like maybe he wasn't very bright. “You're pretty well known, and not for being a pushover.” She watched him for a minute as another lantern appeared over her head, shining down on her cat ears, tabby-furred cheeks, bright yellow eyes. “Just work, right?”
Mike blinked. “Yeah, of course.”
“Good. The fluffy look isn't off-putting enough to some guys,” she sighed. “I have to admit I'm curious to see what I can do with your boost, where the limits are, but won't it be tiring to boost someone else the whole time?”
“Oh! No, that's not how it works. I mean, I guess it'd make sense if it did? But it doesn't.” Mike shrugged. “When I boost someone else, I get stronger and faster, it's pretty cool. I boosted two people at once one time and it was a serious rush.”
“Huh! Some kind of feedback loop, I guess. That is really cool,” Ninelives said. She walked across the roof and stepped up to the opposite edge, the lantern left behind. “I'll be out again not tomorrow night but the next one. See you then?”
“Awesome! Yeah, totally!”
“Great,” she said, and took off running across not-quite-thin air, platforms appearing just in time for each new step and lingering fewer and fewer seconds behind her as she got farther away. The lantern left near Mike winked out.
He watched until she disappeared behind a taller building. Other heroes were awesome. Ninelives was awesome. Life was awesome.
Now he just had to get his full lung capacity back, and he could go see what else fun stuff he could get into tonight. |
a2ab44950e354220a632b8474c3d9315 | ['64e838f308064f1c9d3bee892f486563'] | > Do you guys hear that? Is that... the sound of plot and further canon divergence? OF COURSE!
> Before you ask, yes, I did age up Eri. We are officially in spoiler territory, people, so start running!
> Poor Izuku and Nemuri... how will they get out of this?
> Find out next chapter! PLUS ULTRA!
> -USER
>
> P.S. I've decided! When possible, I'll update this story on Sundays! I'll make it as frequent as I possibly can. Wish me luck!
9. Tantalizing Offer and Shizento Namonazaki
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> (or Izuku gets into U.A…. sort of)
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I MADE IT! IT'S STILL SUNDAY!
> Wow... it's literally the 11th hour... huh...
> Okay, okay, here's your chapter!
Izuku wakes up on top of a couch.
He knows very well that he’s not back home, but last night is still a bit of a blur to him. He sits up, straightening his back from a somewhat uncomfortable sleep. He scans the room; it’s surprisingly relaxing. The walls are lavender, the decor puts one at ease. It’s a bit chaotic in some places, whether it be paperwork, trash, or laundry strewn about, but that’s to be expected. How did Izuku looks towards the kitchen. Maybe he could find something to ea-
Someone is sleeping at the table.
Izuku approaches with caution, not making the slightest sound as he approaches table. The sleeping person turns out to be a woman with long spiky black hair currently done up in a messy ponytail. She’s wearing a baggy sweater with shorts. Some black marks are on the sleeves, and Izuku can smell the faint scent of salt in the air. He shrugs, thinking nothing of it… but then last night comes back to him full force. Izuku almost trips over himself.
_ Endeavor sucks, burning building, outran Eraserhead, got caught by Midnight, no mask- _
Before Izuku can be worked up to the point of no return, he reaches into one of his extra hood pockets. A backup face mask is there, which Izuku puts on without delay. Now that he’s properly protected, he surveys the kitchen again. The oven has a clock on it that reads: **6:19 a.m.** He’s got time to spare. He looks into the fridge and pantry, pleasantly surprised to find pancake mix, milk, eggs, and sausage, among other things.
With a grin, he set off to work his magic.
**…**
Nemuri’s eyes opened to the sight of heaven.
A mysterious boy was in her kitchen, cooking something that smelled absolutely divine. With a groan, she stretched her arms, letting them droop as she shifted her glass back into place. She let out a small yawn, causing the boy to take notice of her. His eyes widened at first, but they relaxed after a bit. “Oh, you’re awake,” he observed, “just in time, too.” The boy carried two plates to the table; Nemuri had to pinch herself. This boy, whoever he was, had made pancakes, sausage, and sunny side up eggs with salt and pepper.
Nemuri knew she was failing miserably at suppressing her drool.
After the boy poured two glasses of orange juice for the both of them, they fell into a comfortable silence. “Thanks for the food,” Nemuri muttered, before immediately digging in. After a few bites, her eyes threatened to burst into tears. This kid wasn’t half bad! It was exactly the sort of thing she needed to forget last night! ...not that she could remember what had happened in the first placet. She knew it was bad enough to where she cried towards the end of it… the mascara was still on her cheeks. What caused it again? Something about Shouta…
Her fork clattered onto the plate as the memories resurfaced.
_ Oh no _ , she thought, _ oh no no nonono… _ She had successfully caught Lost Cause, another up and coming vigilante. The only problem was that it turned out he was the same age as a _ highschooler _ . If this got out to the public, there would be a social outcry at the mere notion of a kid doing a job arguably better than the Pro Heroes. It was chaos waiting to happen… While Nemuri continued to panic, the boy had taken the time to walk up to her… and tap her shoulder.
Nemuri blinked. The boy just stared.
“So…,” he began; Nemuri noticed the vigilante was wearing his iconic face mask, “...what now?” Nemuri did a double take, tilting her head in confusion. “ _ What now? _ ” she asked, incredulous, “Are you crazy, kid!? I don’t know if you noticed, but this is REALLY BAD! You won’t be the only one in hot water if the media gets word that a HIGHSCHOOL-AGED BOY has been running around playing vigilante! EVERY GODDAMN PRO HERO WILL BE SUBJECT TO-” The vigilante put his hand over her mouth, silencing her.
“First off, calm down,” he said flatly, making his way back to his seat.
Reluctantly, she complied, taking a few deep breaths. The vigilante took off his face mask; Nemuri could see his freckles again. He put his hands behind his head, looking contemplative. “Look, neither of us want to get in trouble,” he said, to which Nemuri agreed with a nod. “I could stage an escape, but I’m pretty sure that window of opportunity is long gone…” He said that part with a pout. Nemuri was confused; _ why didn’t he escape earlier _ ? “There’s gotta be a way for both of us to get out of this unscathed…”
“Mind telling me your name, first?” Nemuri asked, “The real one, if you please, ‘Jack Yamikumo.’” | 54fe65b021a045609ea8c24cb6727c96 | ['64e838f308064f1c9d3bee892f486563'] | To his horror, more debris fell them.
**...**
Izuku himself got a concussion’s worth of support beam, causing him to drop to the floor.
He couldn’t see anything, save for a crack… _crap, was that his visor_?
He noticed a pair of eyes right in front of him… _the mother_?
Her mouth was moving, but what was she saying?
“...did your best,” he manages to hear.
She sounds absolutely heartbreaking, but her face portrays resigned acceptance.
The tears are falling slowly but surely down her cheeks… Izuku notices the cut and blood flowing down the side of her head.
“I just wish…” the woman sobs, a sad smile tugging on her lips, “I could’ve seen her. One more… time…”
Izuku’s heart is ramming against his ribcage, but all he can do is watch his vision dim.
“My little Wakami,” he hears, “my baby… _Izuku, my baby_.”
The last thing Izuku manages to see is his mother.
**…**
When the fog of adrenaline wears off, Izuku is beside an ambulance.
It takes him a bit to reassess his surroundings. The police department is still there, but now Backdraft and the fire department have arrived. There are several ambulances, and the one he’s next to has the woman from earlier in a stretcher. He looks towards the apartment building… at least, where it used to be. It’s a smoldering heap of ash and brick, but there’s no more flames. Izuku looks to the woman. She’s unconscious… but she’s breathing.
Izuku sighs, allowing himself to drop onto the pavement.
He realizes his mistake when he hears the familiar whiz of a capture weapon. He leaps into the air, missing it narrowly, before throwing several smoke bombs around him and parkour running up one of the nearby buildings. To his chagrin, Eraserhead manages to catch up several seconds later. They are jumping from building to building at an alarmingly fast pace. Eraserhead tries using his quirk on Izuku to no avail. He keeps running, with no signs of stopping.
He finally stops at an alley, Eraserhead throws the capture weapon at him.
Being an underground hero, Eraserhead has grown used to hunting down a number of threats, villain and vigilante alike. They were usually screwed after he erased their quirks, or after making the mistake of underestimating him. Lost Cause is different. He doesn’t stop when his quirk should be erased, and he somehow NEVER underestimates Eraserhead. So he really isn’t surprised when the vigilante _grabs_ his capture weapon, pulls it and Eraserhead towards him, and then proceeds to kick his face into a wall, effectively rendering him incapacitated.
He’s only surprised when the vigilante calls out a “SORRY!” before booking it.
Izuku doesn’t stop running until he’s certain he’s at least several blocks away from Eraserhead. He slumps down a sidewalk corner, turning off his visor. He’s gotta get back home, or Himiko will never let him hear the end of it. The area he’s in is secluded, so he isn’t worried about being followed. That is, until halfway back home, he notices a pink mist. _Great_ , he thinks, _Midnight’s on my tail…_ He diverts his attention to drawing her as far away from the beach as possible. He’ll give her the most wild goose chase of a- why is the world going dark.
Izuku remembers he isn’t wearing his facemask. _Well shit_ , he thinks, falling to the floor.
* * *
Nemuri Kayama jumped through the window of her apartment, carrying an unconscious visitor through.
She turned on the lights, closing the window and setting the stranger on the couch. She had gotten wind of Lost Cause after the USJ incident, which was _supposed_ to be confidential information at the time. How it got out, she’ll never know, but what she did know was that Lost Cause was a capable but dangerous individual that needed to be brought to justice. At least, that’s what she had been told. If she was being honest, there were times when she saw Lost Cause and thought to herself, _Am I doing a good job_?
There was some form of respect towards him… if only he wasn’t on the wrong side of the law.
None of that mattered now. After Shota had so helpfully sent an emergency alert stating that Lost Cause was heading towards her patrol area, she kept her eyes peeled. She managed to spot a figure with their hood up, and would’ve dismissed them as a civilian… had it not been for the logo on the back. “Lost Cause’s Star,” as it had been dubbed, was easy to find in the moment, but never afterwards. Nemuri considered herself lucky.
Which brought them to now.
The vigilante was still unconscious as Nemuri contacted some of the Pros and the police. She’d bring Lost Cause to them tomorrow, at U.A. It would be a Saturday. After making the necessary arrangements, she began to walk towards the vigilante, still sleeping. Nemuri purred as she approached him. He was usually the slippery type; she herself had only ran into him once or twice. Now, she was within his grasp, vulnerable, trapped… and hopefully handsome. With a grin, she pulled his hood back…
...and upon seeing his face, backed up into a wall.
Nemuri’s eyes were wide, her hands over her mouth in order to repress a scream. _How…_ she tried thinking, but nothing came logically. _How…?_ In front of her was not what she was expecting: a young man probably in his mid-twenties with some stubble but a chiseled and hardened face. The vigilante was young, but that was because he was a _teenager_ . He was probably around the same age as the U.A. first years, with a cute face and freckles, topped with an uncontrollable bushel of green hair. Nemuri would have found it cute, if this kid wasn’t a _goddamn vigilante_!
...what was she gonna say to Shota? To anyone?
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> OwO, what's this? |
6374aeb5139a4438b5271fab2a4fd76a | ['650353b71da145a5958717f27837827a'] | Midnight Skies
**Author's Note:**
> First piece of work, just trying to get into the hang of it. Read it or nah.
Rain patters ruthlessly against the roof, and you know that there's not going to be any sleep for you again tonight.
You get up from your bed, and it makes a small creak of complaint. You would too, given how unused the bed has been lately. You're either plagued with unholy nightmares, or just can't bring yourself to falling asleep in the first place. You head over to the window, and before looking out, you run a hand over your face with a loud sigh. You were alone, so there was no worry about keeping anyone else from sleeping. You'd pretty much isolated yourself after the game, because nothing anyone had said to you after you won could get you to change your mind. You kept contact with people, just an occasional message to inform them that yes, you were alright. However, you still think to this day that they'd be better off just not bothering with you anymore. It'd be better off that way anyways.. Right? Another sigh and a quick glance at the clock beside your bed tells you it's just a few minutes after midnight. Before all this mess had happened, you had never even considered going to bed before midnight. You were a real rebellious kid, not listening to the authority you never had, and doing whatever you wanted. What came with the hours of lost sleep as a teenager meant the robots.
The robots were something that you were sure made you one of the sharpest, most intelligent young adults out there. Of course, you knew it wasn't true- anyone could really build a robot with the proper technology and education. The auto responder was a bit more advanced, and if he wasn't such an asshole, you'd love him too. However, he managed to fuck you over a lot more than you wanted, and he probably just did it for the hell of it. You didn't feel upset when you gave the glasses to Roxy at the end of the day, because you knew that she would love them a lot more than you did.
Roxy. God, you were nothing less than proud of her.
Roxy Lalonde, the girl who managed to change her life for the better, and only in a matter of a few months. It was truly inspiring, and you were glad you were lucky enough to get to know her. The girl, even when she was an alcoholic, was always charismatic, and you loved that about her. Even though it didn't seem like it, you loved to talk to her, because her amusement always seemed to rub off onto you. In a bad mood? Roxy could help. Then she went and stopped drinking so much, and she still continued to be the wonderful girl she had been before. Roxy was the real hero of this story, not you. Hell, you'd be damned if you had ever been a hero in this story. You were nothing good for anyone, especially Jake, so why would you be?
Jake.
A mistake you could never fix.
No, Jake wasn't the mistake. Falling in love with him was. You had loved him a lot more than he did you, and you were only the garbage that fueled the flames between him and Jane. You had known nothing about what was to happen in the future, what they were to be. Besides, teenagers make mistakes, but you could never forgive yourself for the ones you made. You weren't sure what had attracted you to Jake in the first place, but you wish it had never happened. You were the mistake, not him.
You sigh, and you move to sit in the window sill and look out to the city. Rain slithered down the window pane slowly, despite how hard it was raining outside. You lean against the wall and watch the city move, completely unaffected without you there. You wonder if your friends are the same way, still happy and able to live their lives freely, without you dragging them down. Jane for sure would. Jane was just one of those people, you supposed. Jane didn't seem like she needed much of anyone- especially after that fuck up all those years ago, when you and Jake ditched her birthday party for some planet exploring. It was shit of you and you knew that, but you were just too damned selfish. You knew it was her birthday, you never forgot things like that. You just wanted time with Jake, and you were determined to get it. Of course, now you realize how wrong that was, how wrong you were. Jane had been nothing but a great friend, and you let her down. She trusted you, and you shit all over that. You were disgusting. You run a hand through your hair and rest your head against the window, watching everything go on below you. Things could go on without you, but you knew that you would never bring yourself to doing anything bad. You had a duty, and you were going to make sure it still happened. Your gaze moved from the city below and into the sky, and the corners of your lips turned up ever so slightly.
These midnight skies were rarely clear, but you knew that the rain was just as comforting as the stars. | a5873ff1d6c047d8ba0ec8f9bbee3946 | ['650353b71da145a5958717f27837827a'] |
personal space.
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Hey guys! I know it's been a while, I hope to get back into writing things soon, now that my schedule's cleared up! This is a bit short, but I felt that it was just long enough to really get my point across!
Personal space isn't a word you know the definition of, not when it comes to him. Slim fingers trace along the broad side of his shoulder, and you feel the feather light touches of his fingers against your ribs through the thin fabric of your shirt. The two of you are entangled among your bed sheets, the pale cream fabric showing an almost alarming contrast to the brightness of his tank top, and a contrast to the dark, richly colored curls that tumble around and frame your face. The only sound that surrounds you is the quiet whirring of your fan, which allows loose strands of hair to catch on the breeze and float away, but not too far. His head rests near your abdomen, the arm that lazily traces each individual rib of yours is slung haphazardly over you. Your own eyes are closed, but you can see so clearly the way he’s sitting, with his head pressed against your rib cage, probably with the fluttering sensation of your heartbeat so clear in his ear. You’ve always wondered what that sounds like. Never have you had such an opportunity, the opportunity to press your head against someone’s chest, certainly not his chest, and allowed yourself to be soothed by the ever familiar sound of a heartbeat, the ever constant thrumming that said it all. That said _‘I’m alive; I’m here with you, and alive.’_
The warmth of his body presses against your side, you’re comforted by his mere presence, the running of his fingers against your skin is soothing, you’ve never been more comfortable in your entire life. Certainly not in public, where the judging eyes of people follow you, scowls and snickering so evident. You wish that the two of you could stay like this forever, just running the pads of your fingers against his skin, feeling him run his fingers over each of the freckles on your shoulders, and the quiet laughter as you try to guess what it is he’s drawing along your spine. You never get it right, but you never really give it much thought anyways. The sun is on the horizon when the two of you find yourselves here, sinking beyond the skyline and turning the sky brilliant shades of blue and violet, right up until the moon replaces it, and the soft glow that slips through the translucent curtains up against your windows, frames the sharp angles of his face and catches on his lashes. He’s picture-esque, equivalent to polished marble. He was perfect in the most imperfect ways, because there was no human alive that was perfect, but in your eyes, he was. You knew not how he felt about you, you could wonder, wonder on and on what went through that mind of his, buried underneath flaxen locks. You’d never ask, your mouth should fill up with cotton or sand and your throat close up before you ever got the nerve to do something like that. So you’d stay, the two of you closer friends than anyone else had ever seen, light brushes against smooth expanses of skin.
You think on it now, it’d become a daily thing, really. Most parents would be worried about their kids being so close, spending so much time with each other, long after the sun went down and your fingers stilled, eyes closed and your faces close. Soft breath would mingle as you slept, but it always seemed that when you woke up in the morning, he was gone again, equivalent to a ghost, or a memory; destined to always go the same. It's quiet once again, the two of you don't say much; you'd grown so close that talking wasn't necessary anymore, and the only sound that fills the room is the faint bass playing of your sister, and the whirring of the fan once again. Your eyes are closed, just as they so often are, and your fingers drag through his hair. You know that he enjoys this, he's told you before. Your other hand is in his grip, you feel him run his fingers over the ridges and bends of your fingers, over the joints and the smoothly painted nails. You're only slightly aware of the way his lips press lightly against the skin between the knuckles of your index and middle finger, just in between where they connect to your hand. Your eyes open, lazy gaze follows to him, where you feel him press another kiss, just between your ring finger and middle finger, the same place again. He must've sensed your gaze on him, because he begins to speak, voice deep and a contrast from the soft interior of your bedroom, from the soft bass in the background, muffled by the walls, and the ever present roaring of your fan. Always the fan.
"I love you." He says, and you feel as though the entire world has shifted, you're in suspended animation, your fingers pausing in their trail along his scalp. He's shifting and you nearly tense as he does so, and your eyes meet. Just as you feared, your throat closes up and you find it hard to swallow, never mind speak. Your thought are on haywire, running away from you as swiftly as they can, leaving your mind entirely blank. Your mouth opens, then closes, and you struggle for words. You can't bring yourself to telling him a lie, to say that you didn't love him too, that he didn't make your entire body become weightless when his fingers drifted too close to your throat as they run through your hair, or that his fingers across your shoulder don't send chills up your spine. You'd be lying, and by god, you were no liar. Words still wouldn't come to you, you still feel his hand on your own, the two of you suspended in time, staring each other down; even if his expression was a bit more intent than your own. It's then, then that you decide on what to do, decide to pull your hand from his hold and lean in, palms pressing against the sides of his face, softly; as though you hoped not to hurt him, and you kiss him. You kiss him with the intensity of any word you could have said, and still it wouldn't have been enough to express what you were thinking, it wouldn't have been enough to express what you were feeling, and you're so caught up that you barely noticed the brushing of his hand against the back of your neck, or that he was kissing you back.
It feels as though the two of you are much older when you pull away, as though one hundred years had passed in the meantime. He watches you for any sort of reaction, you know that look, and you can't help but laugh. It's a soft, delicate noise as though you're unsure of whether or not you wanted it to escape you. Your hands are still against his cheeks, faces just inches apart. You lean in, forehead pressing against his, and you close your eyes, a soft sigh escaping you, and you smile. You're happy, content to be as you were, and you nod slightly. It's not much, what you say after, but you feel that it's fitting, after the way you'd already shown him how you felt. It's almost cliche, really, to be sitting here with your best friend, but there was nothing wrong with cliche, not now.
"I love you too."
**Author's Note:**
> So, with this piece, I really wanted to focus on detail, rather than plot, and so yeah! It was just supposed to be a light, fun thing I wrote that I based off of a roleplay I'm having with a really dear friend of mine, and the idea has been in my head for so long that I was worried that the piece just wouldn't stick together! It doesn't have much substance in terms of dialogue and things like that, but I was really going more for the detail, substance on the setting, on their appearance. So yeah! I really hope you enjoyed, and I should definitely be back to writing soon! |
2770a53568e042cc903f8402e1d70b18 | ['65044e050b5446baad0489e8ca24ef14'] | “What?” Erik asked, but could already guess what Julian would say.
“You spent two hundred dollars on Kylie Jenner lip kits?” Julian could not believe his boyfriend.
“Um, yeah”
“I can’t believe you. Why’d you waste your money on something you will never use.” Julian’s tone was calm, worried Erik might have a problem that needed to be taken care of.
“I like how it looks on me? Plus who knows, maybe one day it won’t be weird for footballers be gay and wear lipstick,” Erik said.
“You’re getting too serious on me,” Julian laughed.
“Sorry, I just may be a bit gayer than intended. But it’s ok, as long as I’m gayer with you,” Julian smiled and moved in for a kiss.
“You’re a dork you know that? My little, lipstick-obsessed dork, that I love very much,” Julian smiled and kissed Erik back.
“Love you too.”
*
A month after Julian’s transfer to Dortmund was complete, Erik and Julian were sitting at home after training chilling and watching TV, Julian’s head in Erik’s lap, Erik playing with Julian’s hair.
“I’ve been thinking,” Julian started, “I’ve been getting along well with the guys and they seem really friendly, and… I think I want to come out to them.”
Erik paused the TV and looked down at Julian, “Really? If that’s what you want, I’ll suport you but I don’t think I’m ready to myself.”
“And you don’t have to, but maybe this is the first step into our future.”
*
So the next day at training, Julian came out to a round of applause and a few congratulations.
“I guess that lipstick I had you buy didn’t help after all,” Mats joked, and Julian was surprised he even still remembered the event.
“Yeah I guess” Julian forced a laugh, thinking about how much that lipstick actually did affect him.
The rest of the morning session of training passed by uneventfully, but when lunch came Erik pulled him off to the side.
“Jule, I. Am. So. Proud. Of. You.” Erik said between kisses.
“Erik, we can’t do this here, you’re not out yet!”Julian pushed him away.
“Then I guess I’ll just have to reward you in this here closet then” Erik smirked.
“I just left the closet, besides what happened to that good Christian boy I met last year?”
“He discovered the power of lipstick,” Erik said, pulling out the hideous dark purple lipstick and putting it on. “Now let’s have some fun, lunch break is short,” and with that, Erik pushed him into the closet and shut the door behind them.
*
Julian walked back to the team first, with Erik planning to enter later.
“Dude, did you spend lunch break hooking up or-” Marco started, but stopped when he saw Julian up close. Julian was covered in purple lipstick stains that apparently neither him nor Erik noticed.
“I thought you were gay?” Mats asked, staring at the lipstick too.
Thinking fast, Julian said the first thing that came to mind, “I am, but my boyfriend is gayer.”
Precisely at that moment, Erik chose to walk in.
“Hey guys!” Erik said, interrupting the silence that had fallen. Now it was his turn to be stared at.
“And why do you have purple lipstick on your face?” Mats asked. Erik had tried to clean himself up, but he had missed a few parts where the lipstick that had gotten on Julian rubbed back on him.
“Um,” Erik saw that Julian was covered in purple too, and figured there was no way to lie his way out of this situation. “Iliketowearlipstick” Erik said quietly.
“What?” Marco asked.
“I like to wear lipstick,” Erik admitted.
“Hey that’s cool with us, right guys?” Nuri spoke up. Everyone else nodded or hummed in agreement.
“That still doesn’t explain why you both are purple,” Shinji pointed out.
“And we are kind of together,” Erik said, taking Julian’s hand in his.
“How cute,” Mats cooed, exaggerating his excitement, “But lunch is over and we should probably get back to work.”
*
And that’s how things went over the next year, Erik would wear lipstick, albeit less obvious, more nude, colors, to all the private training sessions. Everything was going smoothly until Erik got another bright idea.
“I want to be public,” Erik told Julian on the way home one day. “And I don’t want to tell the team or our agents or anyone cause I don’t want anyone to stop us, unless you don’t want to.”
“Hey if it is what you want, I’m here for you.” Julian agreed, “But how are we gonna do it without anyone having an idea first. We can’t have an interview without someone knowing.”
“Oh I have an idea...”
*
It was the Champions Cup final against Real Madrid, and Erik and Julian were nervous for more reasons than one. If they won today, their lives would change forever.
The game had an uneventful first half, with neither team scoring, although both Cristiano Ronaldo and James Rodriguez had gotten close. The game was looking like it would be going into extra time, with two minutes of stoppage time and neither team scoring. But in the first minute of stoppage time, Marco made an unbelievable run with the ball and scored. Somehow they had beaten Real Madrid, and they couldn’t be happier.
They held the trophy ceremony, then ran back on the field for a picture and for more celebration. In all the commotion, no one noticed Erik slipping away and then coming back, lips bright yellow. He found Julian, then together they found the camera that was broadcasting to the big screen, and hopefully the world, and they kissed for everyone to see. Their teammates cheered, the stadium erupted with yelling, some cheers, some boos, but over all quite positive.
After that they ran off early while the rest of the team went back to the locker room for further celebrations. Once the main excitement died down, the press left, and no more cameras were around, Julian and Erik finally showed up again. The team headed for the showers, Julian following Marco, who didn’t realize someone was behind him. Marco turned around and, without meaning to, saw a bit more of Julian than he would have liked.
“Dude,” Marco said, covering his eyes and blushing, “I’m glad you have team spirit, but why is your dick yellow?”
**Author's Note:**
> First time writing footballstuff, so I hope it made sense and y'all liked it!
> Say hi on tumblr: ton8kroos :D | c29b7f26086c4afe9e27ed6ff5358289 | ['65044e050b5446baad0489e8ca24ef14'] |
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> This is for my lovely friend Jay, who has been really ill recently. We had this idea and I finally got around to writing it!
>
> Jay,
> I love you and I hope you feel better really soon!
“Julian, I want cookies”
“Jo, we are going out to eat with Christian and Felix in an hour and a half, can’t you wait?”
Julian was sitting on the couch watching TV in his and Joshua’s shared apartment, Joshua laying down with his head in Julian’s lap. Joshua turned over to face Julian’s abs and snuggled his face into his stomach to try and tickle Julian in protest. Julian left out a chuckle and patted his boyfriend’s head.
“And? You’re quick enough at baking they will be ready in no time!” Josh stood up and tried to pull his boyfriend off the couch. Unfortunately, Julian wasn’t ready to get up and so instead of standing up to his feet, Joshua ended up pulling Julian on to the floor.
Julian sat up and looked up to Julian, “It’s not that, it’s the fact we are going to be eating soon and we don’t want to ruin our dinner.” Josh sat down on the floor to be eye level with Julian and gave him a puppy look. Julian tried to overcompensate his seriousness by frowning, but Josh started crawling toward him, puppy dog face getting closer, until Josh got up into Julian’s face. They maintained eye contact, neither giving in, until Josh gave Julian a quick peck on the lips. Julian sighed, stood up, and headed towards the kitchen.
“I want to help!” Josh jumped up and ran into the kitchen before Julian could get there.
“Oh dear.” Julian knew Joshua knew nothing about cooking or baking, and the last time he tried to use the oven, they were thankful to have something to eat at all. Julian couldn’t be mad though, as Joshua was only trying to make his favorite meal for Julian’s birthday.
“I know what happened, but this time you’ll be the boss and I’ll do everything you say!” Josh stood up straight and saluted to an amused Julian.
“Okay, I guess you can help.”
“What should I do, boss?”
“Can you grab two bowls, the measuring cup, and measuring spoons while I get the ingredients?” Joshua dutifully nodded and opened the cabinets attempting to find what Julian had asked for. Meanwhile, Julian went to the pantry and grabbed the white and brown sugar, flour, and chocolate chips.
“You can’t be serious,” Julian asked when he saw that Joshua had grabbed two cereal sized bowls instead of the larger ones they would need. There was a moment of silence between the two, before Julian smiled and rolled his eyes, before walking over the the cabinets but Josh’s legs and got the bowls they would actually need.
“To be fair, you just said bowls, you never specified what kind.” Josh hopped up and sat on the counter, much to the chagrin of Julian, who had to scoot all the items over to make a work space out of what little counter her had left. Julian measured out all of the dry ingredients, and tasked Josh to mixing them together while he collected the wet ingredients.
“Oh no.” Julian heard behind him.
“Josh. What did you do?” He asked without turning around.
“I may or may not have been stirring too fast, and may or may not have gotten the stuff on me… and the counter.”
“Do you need help cleaning it up?”
Julian got no response.
“Jo..?” Julian turned around right into Josh holding his hand between their faces. Josh promptly opened his hand and blew flour on Julian.
“Sorry Ju, I didn’t mean to scare you, but you’re as white as a ghost!” Josh started laughing, and despite how mad Julian wanted to be, he couldn’t help but smile. He wiped the flour mixture from his eyes and walked over to the bowl with the dry mixture, and pinched some of it out. Using his height advantage, he sprinkled the flour over Josh’s head.
“Well, would you look at that, it’s snowing in July!”
Josh gave Julian a playful shove, “I think we should get back to work if we want to be done in time to go out and eat with Christian and Felix.”
“If they get here before we are done then, one, it's your fault for making us bake cookies, and two, we are all friends and can share.”
“Wow, so kind and thoughtful, always thinking of the other guy.”
Thankfully, adding the wet ingredients and mixing everything together was uneventful, but as soon as they started putting the dough on the cookie sheet, Josh had another idea.
“Ju! Why don't we make a heart shaped one! Or maybe two big ones! One for us, and one for Christian and Felix!” Joshua hurriedly started mashing all of the dough balls they had made into a vaguely heart shaped blob. Julian thought it was a cute thought but, being the practical one, of course had to point out the flaw in the plan.
“If the cookies are larger, they will take longer to cook. We only have 20 minutes until they are supposed to be here.”
“Ju, they are teenage boys. They will wait for cookies, wouldn't you?” Josh said looking up at Julian. Julian shrugged and started to make the other heart cookie.
“Hey Josh, you know what I realized?” Julian said when they had made both hearts. Josh gave Julian a puzzled look. “We forgot to put chocolate chips into the chocolate chip cookies.”
Josh burst out laughing, “I blame you, you're the baker!”
“No I think it's your fault for being too cute and distracting me!” |
37c23c92b3db49aa8c6c01967fdab137 | ['652b842040424777b1a3d05df53ce4cd'] | now this is an interesting one. We don’t know ANYTHING about the wesker project. Nada, zip bubkis. The only thing we know for sure is that the wesker children were taken from genetically superior parents at birth and raised by umbrella, under Oswell spencer, who is definitely a Psychopath. I find it hard to believe anyone raised in that kind of environment could form attachments or would even be allowed. Alex wesker has some sort of attachment to Albert but we never find out if its reciprocated. He’s clearly demonstrated a need for human connection in the games and books via William Birkin being his long-time friend and his relationship with Ms Muller. Even if it was for a one night stand. Jake muller is living proof of that. Don’t get me started on his relationship with Chris because I will be here all hecking night.
wesker is literally only in re5 for an hour and in lost in nightmares for a few minutes so I’m really not sure how much I can extract from that. His relationship with Chris is as prevalent as ever and if he’s been able to keep up a _lie_ of caring about excella for 4+ years then the man deserves an Oscar.
( _side note I find it weird to compare 2 people we think of as psychopaths in this game and see that they really aren’t that much alike. You could draw parallels between them if you wanted to but they’re on totally different scales . I have more to say on wesker with spencer but ill talk about that below_ )
No points anywhere because although its one of hatred, his relationship with Chris is clearly very deep and I doubt a true psychopath would hold anything more than a grudge, not such a long standing relationship with someone.
Before re5:1
after re5 :5
* **Narcissism** \-
sort of funny, the opening of the og re1 has wesker smoothing his hair back into place, which is kinda narcissistic I suppose, or at least meant to imply that . he doesn’t do anything stereotypically narcissistic so its hard to say. He always looks stylish in all black suits ( although that turtle neck with a suit jacket was a big fucking misstep that belongs in the 70s.) although he is very arrogant and seems to think he’s too good to fail I’m not sure if I would call that narcissism. He’s pretty quite about his accomplishments even when the cat is out of the bag i dont ever recall him gloating to anyone but chris in the novels. He does seem to show quite bit of self hatred in the books when he realizes he’s fucked up but I don’t know enough about psychology to know if that’s part of a complex.
In re5 his narcissism is more of a god complex but to think so highly of oneself that you think you can literally be a god is the height of narcissism.
to be honest im not sure so im not counting it.
Before re5: 1
after re5: 5
* **Superficial charm**
in 5 which is his last appearance ,he’s deep into this shit. Books make it clear that wesker is and always has been a shit starter who hates social etiquette. Pre re5 he is a sarcastic piece of shit who is on his 11th cup of coffee and left his fucks to give in his other pants. If he’s charming to anyone its gota be genuine because why would he put in the effort when he simply doesn’t care? The people he works with know what he’s like so lies and pleasantries wouldn’t work on them and his asshole behavior does not endear him to anyone.
In 5 He charms excella but not by being charming. Excella wants his power and whatever else is in his pants. He treats her like a pawn, he’s not trying to be nice and charming, its not like it was with Alex wesker where people worshiped her like a god.Re5 Albert wesker hates people too much to bother with that kind of thing but re1 wesker definitely still tries, albeit badly
Sorry but I don’t find him charming and judging by the shit people talk about him behind his back , no one else does either
Before re5: 1
after re5: 5
* **Dishonesty**
yea he’s a liar what villain isn’t. doesn’t make him an automatic make him a psychopath. As I mentioned above he is more dishonest the earlier in the games you go. He keeps things close to his chest until he finds out the truth and then he just stops giving any kinda shit.
Before re5: 2
after re5: 5
* **Manipulativeness-**
I don’t have time to go into every instance but Stars is the main one I can think of. He doesn’t manipulate William other than prodding him in the direction of a decision ( any decision really because William cant decide to save his life) he’s honest with ada in re2 and 4, he’s rude and goading in Cv but I don’t think Id call that manipulative ,certainly provocational but so is hooting and slapping your ass at people ~~( or threatening to dick down your sister, code veronica im looking at you).~~ I would argue its such a small scale right up to 5. Spencer has done so much worse for his entire existence and wesker had a …relatively normal life up until 38. Spencer had killed at least 3 people by then.
im still going to put a point on each because he is essentially known for his manipulative streak even if players only see small examples.
Before re5 :3
after re5: 6
* **Reckless risk taking** | a6c9fcb6d4ea4ea7bf315b513ba31c96 | ['652b842040424777b1a3d05df53ce4cd'] |
Albert Wesker isnt that bad and heres why- Character analysis
**Author's Note:**
> im not even remotely sorry about writing this dont @me
## Yes I am kidding but only kind of.
Sorry for the click bait title but I genuinely have a point to make here and since wesker is my favourite Resident evil character lets just talk about this.
Now obviously I’m not saying wesker isn’t a horrible person who’s just misunderstood like some wesker fangirls. I don’t think he’s good underneath, he’s awful and should stay that way because that’s how I like him. And just because I like an awful character doesn’t mean I condone his actions ; I understand his motives perfectly, they’re dumb, misguided and a terrible way of doing things. Wesker says “I want to save the world” then immediately tries to set the whole world on fire.
THAT KILLS PEOPLE WESKER..
No wesker is truly unapologetically terrible but he could have been worse; he could have been Spencer.
Is wesker a psychopath?
Short answer, yes. Long answer ehhhhmmm kind of.
Now in my resident evil 5 …review? Lets call it that. I talked at length about why Spencer would have made a better villain from a narrative stand point and why the whole thing with a brainwashed Jill could have worked better with Wesker. I also talked about how even though we think of both Spencer and Wesker as Psychopaths they are COMPLETELY different people. Their only comparison is that they both have a god complex, which wesker only takes on after finding out he was manufactured, never before. Up until re4 his motives have been destroying umbrella and money.
**Why the sudden left shift into batshit on sea?**
My answer is that Wesker isn’t like Spencer, he wasn’t born a psychopath, he was normal. But after years abuse, of working for umbrella he became a sociopath as coping mechanism shall we say? by the time of re5 he has become a psychopath but in a different way to spencer. In lost in nightmares spencer tells him what he really is, cementing the feelings wesker always had that he was abnormal. He became something of a monster after re1, just look at his line in code veronica “I’ve sold my soul to a new organization” and “sure I’m not human anymore but just look at the power I’ve gained” he laughs as he says both of these things, he clearly has some strong feelings about what he’s become. The revelation of lost in nightmares, of finding out his ENTIRE life was just some experiment broke him mentally and sent an already unstable and damaged person over the edge.
I guess its probably pertinent to talk about the differences between a sociopath and a psychopath now so no one gets confused. They are similar but they aren’t the same. The books and to a lesser extent, the text files in the games use the terms interchangeably and call wesker both a psychopath and a sociopath at different points so let me try and explain this as simply as I can:
_**Disclaimer I’m not a psychologist( I have a friend who is and I’ve consulted him for this ). I just love fucked up characters in games and finding out how they got to be like that.** _
So as far as I can tell All psychopaths are sociopaths but not all sociopaths are psychopaths. Sociopaths can be manipulative and can be just awful people but they still have empathy. They can still feel things for others, psychopaths choose not to. I was reading a recent study about how psychopaths don’t actually lack empathy. If you specifically tell them to empathise with a person, they can and will do it. Its more that they have manual switches on their empathy that they choose not to turn on, after all why would you want to feel sad on someone else’s behalf? Logically it make sense. but I suppose because humans are such social animals it makes more sense that what effects one could affect us all and its better to tackle the problem as a group. But for a psychopath, someone who is very self centred its just better not to. With me so far?
So let me explain why I think wesker starts off as a relatively normal if morally skewed person and then devolves into a psychopath : I googled psychopathic and sociopathic traits, lets compare wesker to them both at the start of the story and the end.
* **Repeated violations of the law**
In the novel he shows some definite trepidation about human experimentation but he is one of the youngest people there besides Birkin and alexia . an argument could be made that he was just doing as he was expected for results . he’s also a police officer and a soldier at one point, which ( wavers hands) morally gray. Lets say he did violate moral laws . the wesker files detail his rational for violating the biological warfare treaty, basically saying all the other countries are doing it so the USA is doing it too. So I guess yes kinda but nothing major
Re5? Heck yes many a murder violating the law just for shits and giggles. Kidnaping, human experimentation labour laws, you name it he’s probably broken it. Total disregard for the laws of man and country. A sane wesker is someone who doesn’t do anything unless It benefits him in some way but he’s not going to let silly things like the laws of people he considers below him get in his way. This wesker is just breaking the law for the hell of it.
Before re5 :1
After re5 : 1
* **Pervasive lying , manipulation, deception** |
3c40f692bc1b43bdbfdaccdbe7e789c9 | ['65341f1a24364834a3112d9d5ec027b8'] | **"Don't call me stupid!"**
The two of you wrestled around the bed, exchanging giggles and kisses after you recovered from your trifle. Apologies were given, though most of the issue was just a miscommunication. You knew you overreacted, but the sweet boy admitted to being clueless as to ignoring you. Finding a common ground, you made up easily and continued in your leisurely activities of picking out an outfit for Mirio.
After cycling through several choices, your boyfriend finally settled into a pair of light jeans. The denim stretched around his toned thighs, showing off the shape of his muscular legs. He looked damn good in those. Swallowing you thickly, you allowed your gaze to wander to his groin before focusing on how the fabric hugged the curve of his round ass. Damn, you hated how sexy Mirio was sometimes.
You nearly choked on your saliva when he turned around, shoving his rear in your face before yelling out.
**"The peach is ripe!"**
You let out a holler in surprise, but recovered quickly winding your hand back and giving his left cheek a hard spank in appreciation. The boy jumped slightly whipping around to face you, a grin present on his cheerful features.
**"Don't bruise the peach, baby!"**
**"Mirio!"** You laughed loudly and you fell back against the bed, pulling your boyfriend over you. With eager hands you gripped his ass in your palms as the two of you met for a heated kiss. Driving your hips against his, you're met with his moan of approval. Another squeeze from behind and he's wild, rutting himself against you to create more friction between the fabrics dividing your skin.
Mirio knew he would definitely wear those jeans tomorrow after eliciting such a reaction from you. The make up sex was always good, but he was happy you were more than eager to initiate this time around.
╪═══════╪
From behind the bushes, Mirio presented his denim clothed bottom to the group of students before him as he yelled out.
**"The peach is ripe!"**
**"Mirio, don't do that in front of Eri-chan! My god... idiot."** You slapped your forehead in embarrassment, but your eyes didn't once linger away from the blond's ass. The boy met your wanting look knowingly, a grin on his lips. | e0998c18b22648d684c4f8fe719fa066 | ['65341f1a24364834a3112d9d5ec027b8'] |
1. Chapter 1
hi everyone!
i'll be starting a series of nsfw one shots featuring various haikyuu characters.
i'll also be taking requests for male!reader inserts, and canon yaoi pairings, if you would rather read that instead of a female!reader insert.
((((edit: will def write f// if u want yachi, kiyoki or saeko as well
can also try gender-neutral pronouns, if u would like me to!!))))
please enjoy! all comments are appreciated! (๑✧◡✧๑)
this story is also available on fanfiction.net & on my tumblr!
\--
**7/30/2015:** apologies for the delay, everyone! i've been busy working. i'll be posting some new chapters asap. don't give up on me!!
**8/21/2015:** currently working on ushisjima chapter. about 40% finished with it right now.
**4/17/2017:** im a shitty writer thats all i have to say
**4/25/2017:** a REAL JUICY tendou satori one shot comin up ::::^)
**1/12/2018:** u guy kno it take like a whole fuckin half a yr to update this???? im almost done wit chapter LOL
2. reversed roles 【oikawa tooru】
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> oikawa always stares at his girlfriend during class.
> he can't help but admire her figure whenever in uniform.
> she never quite understood his fascination with skirts.
> she decides to find out for herself what's so sexy about a pesky lil' skirt.
inspired by this:
LINK
**pairing:** oikawa x female reader.
**warnings:** slight submissive!oikawa, anal
please enjoy! comments are greatly appreciated. message me for any requests!
♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚
Oikawa Tooru loved seeing (FN) (LN) in a skirt, especially in the school uniform.
His lustful eyes would wander over her body, tracing the curves and dips of her figure before resting upon her hips where the uniform skirt lay teasing him.
The said skirt was a daily reminder of what Oikawa wasn't able to see under the clothing during class time. Nonetheless the view was still great in its own.
Beneath the pleated green fabric stretched two limbs. Black knees socks covered her legs, but revealed plenty enough to tempt the king with the milky, smooth skin of her thighs. There were many occasions where the captain would catch himself staring at her during class time as he ignored the teacher's lecture.
Of course, (FN) was not oblivious to the stare of her class mate. Once a day he would repeat the same line to her, much to the distaste of his female fans.
**"(FN)-chan, that skirt looks best on you!"**
As days passed, the temptation had grown too big for the setter. Unafraid, Oikawa began act upon his desires and (F/N) would find herself within the janitor's closet once a week in between periods.
Sharing heated kisses and rasping out moans, the two had become very familiar with having sex within the setting of the dusty space.
His skilled fingers would work beneath her skirt, cupping her wet sex as his fingers kneaded through the damp fabric of her underwear, his thumb pressuring her pleasure button. He would push aside the flimsy material separating her from his erection, before plunging himself within her slick, tight opening. Each thrust was brought with power and the two would be panting, sweating as their bodies would grind feverishly against each other.
Whenever they fucked he never removed her skirt. She never quite understood why the article of clothing lulled him so, but she left it be. After all, it didn't stop the pair from having phenomenal sex.
♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚
When Oikawa Tooru awoke and readied himself for school, he followed his daily routine. The day was seemingly normal and didn't differ from any of those in the past few weeks. Nonetheless there was a churning feeling in his gut as he took his seat for class.
The usual actions were made by Oikawa. Every so often he would steal glances to the girl before him before carrying on. However as his gaze lingered longer upon her, he swallowed nervously when she turned to him with a mischievous look her lips upturned in a smirk.
_Okay, so. Something was definitely up._ He just wasn't sure of what.
His thoughts were reconfirmed as the day continued slowly. There was minimal interaction between the two and he felt a sigh of relief, mixed with frustration fall over him once the bell chimed, signalling the end to his school day.
The captain didn't manage to catch her before she slipped from the door. Somewhat deprived of his usual sexual interactions, he had left it alone and gone to practice incredibly irked. _What was going on with her?!_
♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚♚
After a hard practice Oikawa was left by himself in the locker room. He had decided to stay behind a bit, much to the curiosity of his team mates.
His irritation was obvious during drills as the others would watch their captain serve. The accuracy of his hits resulted in the ball landing in unwanted areas despite the angry, raw power implanted in every hit.
Iwaizumi and the others had asked several times of his issues, but shrugged and left the setter be when he merely said, **"It's nothing, Iwa-chan!"** and faked a smile only to be smacked upside the head by the said member.
An exasperated came from the king before he undressed and left his clothes in his locker. As he went to shower, it was unnoticed that a figure had entered the boys' locker facilities. His original clothes had been snagged by the anonymous person before they replaced the garments with others.
During his shower Oikawa couldn't help but think of his girlfriend again as he furiously scrubbed his hair with shampoo before rinsing and turning off the water. He didn't want to ponder over it for now. He would simply ask her straight up when he had a chance. |
42aceb7f226a453681de27128b210a50 | ['654eeaac936e47449f4ad0c75d695b37'] |
Scene Change
‘’What even is the concept of this music video?’’ Yoongi growled, looking down at the script in his hand while taking a sip from his coffee, ‘’sitting in a pile of dirty laundry? Me throwing a cake at Namjoon? What does that have to do anything with the lyrics?’’
‘’Stop complaining, hyung,’’ Namjoon simply said, seated next to him as his hair got styled, ‘’and just roll with it.’’
‘’Yeah, listen to what he’s saying,’’ you grinned, casually walking into the dressing room and picking up on the conversation. Yoongi shot you a glare, but decided it was best to give up on complaining. A last growl rolled over his lips. ‘’You better not keep up the informal talk, Y/N.’’
You stuck your tongue out and opened the little fridge, grabbing a water bottle and closing the door with your hip. Today was the day the boys had to shoot another couple of scenes for their Spring Day music video, and as a good friend of Taehyung, they asked you to be involved in the video. You were supposed to represent the friend they were missing throughout the song and so, even you got a couple of nice scenes. Not that you were really noticeable, but you were told the fans would definitely see you. Like, definitely.
You heard some laughter coming from the hallways and seconds later, Jungkook and Taehyung busted through, laughing their asses off as Taehyung held onto a small sticky note. Jungkook kneeled down and started to slap the floor while laughing, he could barely breath. Taehyung hastily handed the note over his two hyungs while nobody had looked at you yet. Minutes later, a blushing, pink-haired Jimin stepped into the room and looked very embarrassed, looking at the two youngsters before letting his eyes glide over the room and halting at your appearance.
A soft squeal left his lungs and he immediately disappeared, closing the door behind his back as the whole situation left you clueless. ‘’What’s so funny?’’ you tried to ask Taehyung, but he was leaning down on Jungkook while they were giggling and babbling weird things, and they clearly weren’t in a right state of mind to answer your question. So you moved on to the two older hyungs.
‘’What’s so funny?’’ you repeated the question as Yoongi and Namjoon grinned, looking down at the sticky note and sharing a few words before Yoongi gave you the small paper.
On the top were two names: ‘’Y/N + Jimin’’, followed by ‘’scene #67′’.
You tried to rack your brain and remembered scene 67 was supposed to be a scene where you were supposed to look lost in a train compartment as Jimin rushed over to you, pushing both you guys through a door to end up in the middle of a field with the rest of boys. But as your eyes lowered, you sucked in a breath as a change of actions were written down.
SCENE CHANGE: ‘’[Jimin] taking [Y/N] outside —> [Jimin] kissing [Y/N]’’
Your eyes widened as you felt your heart skip a beat. The thought of kissing Jimin made you feel a bit light-headed. Now you understood why everyone thought this was so funny, because Jimin never _actually even approached you_. You had some small talks with him, but he always seemed so shy around you and was never really someone to have some long ass talks with. And now you also understood why Jimin was so embarrassed and fled the scene; he _knew_ he never really talked to you and he _knew_ how embarrassing it would be for him to kiss you.
‘’Y/N, are you okay?’’ Namjoon asked, and you could tell he was trying really hard to push away the grin that was about to creep on his face. You just nodded, several strands of hair falling in front of your face, but you swatted them away immediately.
‘’Y-yeah, yeah. I just… think I’m going to have a chat with Jimin,’’ you stuttered and pushed your body past Namjoon’s. You gave the two giggling maknaes a disappointed look, before leaving the dressing room and making your way to the set.
As you arrived, you saw Jimin in a heated discussion with the director and he looked pretty upset. While you halted your steps and tried to listen to the conversation, another member of the crew came to stand right next to you.
‘’You know, we didn’t do it without any reason given. PD-nim said it’d give the video ten times more views,’’ he lowly said while you two watched the director throwing his arms in the air rather furiously. You grimaced.
‘’It shouldn’t matter whether a kiss gives a video more views. If both Jimin and I don’t feel comfortable with the sudden change of plan, it shouldn’t be included in the video. Him dragging me through a door would be shocking enough,’’ you argued and tried to sound convincing of your statement, but the crew member gave you a look which told you he knew he was right.
‘’Aren’t you comfortable with the idea of kissing Jimin?’’ he asked you straightforwardly and you immediately shook your head.
‘’No,’’ you said, ‘’I think.’’
‘’You think?’’
‘’I mean, who cares? It’s just a kiss, right? We don’t even know each other that well,’’ you said and you must’ve sounded very contradicting to what you said earlier.
‘’Woah, Y/N-ssi, go tell Jimin that. Maybe then he’d calm down a bit,’’ the guy said before he left you alone again, and you stared at Jimin’s tensed back for a few seconds. Was Jimin really that upset? Were you really that bad to kiss? Or was it something else?
Suddenly, Jimin turned around and was about to dash off again, but he stopped midway because otherwise, he had ran you over. He looked down at you and his eyes widened.
‘’Jimin,’’ you curtly said. | 54062c70b1d64b818f45fe4622791615 | ['654eeaac936e47449f4ad0c75d695b37'] | WE WERE
**Author's Note:**
> i wouldn't write about autism or any kind of disorder if i haven't been in contact with it and/or didn't do any research. that's all.
“I’m sick and tired of crying over you,” Jongin gasps softly, choking a little on his tears as they continue to stream down his cheeks. His hands have balled into fists and his feet are nailed to the ground, eyes heavy on Taemin. The older stands in front of him, looking less devastated but still clearly upset for all different reasons, and he starts to nervously play with his nails as his glazy eyes stare back at Jongin.
“You always cry so easily, Jonginnie, that’s kind of your own fault,” Taemin retorts, tilting his head a little and watching more little tears drop down his lover’s face. “Besides, this was nothing. You’re annoying when you talk about that dance class you teach, so? Why did you have to ignore me?”
“Because I didn’t know what to say!” Jongin screams all of a sudden, face red and veins bulging. Taemin’s eyes widen a little and he takes a step back, but he’s not walking away just yet. Nor is he scared. This is Jongin. Jongin cares for him, he promised him. Right?
“Why not?” Taemin asks like it’s the most obvious thing, and worries his lower lip between his teeth as he looks down. “What’s so hard about—”
“You don’t. Just tell people they’re annoying,” Jongin’s body shudders, his eyes teary and cheeks wet. Taemin feels a little pang of guilt already. He hates when Jongin cries. He hates it even more when he’s the cause of it. “You don’t just tell them they’re easy criers. Out of all people, you should know how much I care, how sensitive—”
This time it’s Taemin who cuts him off. He holds up his hand shortly, waves it a little dismissively and shakes his head. “The world is hard, though. Maybe it’s time for you to toughen up a little, Jonginnie.”
“God, fuck, fuck you! Fuck you, I hate—” Jongin hiccups, is cut off mid-sentence by himself, and more tears are coming. Taemin lowers his head a little. Jongin never told him he hated him.
It’s silent for a brief moment, and Jongin wavers in place as his coat still rests like a heavy weight on his shoulders. He quickly wipes away his tears and dries his wet cheeks, almost turns around to leave, to open the door and walk out. But in that last second, he faces Taemin one more time.
“You know so very well how much you’ve hurt me. You apologize every time again, promise me to try harder, but you don’t. It’s never enough, you say. And I’m just tired. Sad. I don’t— I can’t do this anymore,” Jongin his lips shake, and Taemin can tell he’s doing his very best to not break down in the middle of the hallway again. Taemin can also tell this— that this is it. The end.
“Jonginnie—”
“I don’t know why I’ve been crying over you so much,” Jongin whispers, taking a step back towards the exit. “You’re right— You’re right, I cry so easy. Because I care too much. About you, us. Love you so much. And you— don’t deserve that.”
Taemin is confused, just for a second, before he realizes what Jongin means.
“You don’t deserve my love, Taemin.”
The door closes. Jongin’s gone. The apartment turns silent. Taemin shakes his head a little, the tears finally springing to his eyes. “Jonginnie,” he whispers, to no one anymore. Not ever anymore.
**Author's Note:**
> talk to me!
> twitter: @niniserigom & sweettaekai
> tumblr: @sweetlilnini |
61ff096cf750462db0905f94cf3749db | ['65599212a91f43ab9284ba1975852036'] | The skin on his wrists and around his neck bubbles and blisters with phantom shadows of future burns. Ford’s chest feels stretched and strained, and he can vaguely recognize the pulse of electricity thrum throughout his body in one of the visions where he is bound by molten chains. The shock spreads, blue and crackling, until his hands shake violently and he just wants it to be _over_. He watches his hair go gray as the wounds come and go. He doesn’t know how this other-Ford, the one who somehow lives past thirty, manages in his desolate nightmare world. Worlds. It’s hard to tell what is what with the way Bill’s shuffling times and planets like a deck of cards. Sometimes he glimpses alien dimensions through the haze, and they’d normally fascinate him if he wasn't trying so hard not to puke his guts out.
Ford comes back to himself when he feels the talons of some exotic indigo bird tear through his shoulder, and suddenly he’s matching his brother in placement of scars. _Like real twins._ He vaguely registers biting clean through the inside of his cheeks and doubling over, slamming into the ground. White spasms of light swim across his vision like ships against a midnight sea. Like the ones at Glass Shard Beach. Blood dribbles from his mouth as he sucks in the metallic taste of the air, and there is a voice ringing in his head, whispering, _Six-fingers, are you ready? Are you ready?_
Pain is his _something_ in these dimensions. While diving through these visions, all Ford can feel is gut-wrenching emotions and aches he never fathomed he would experience. Some degree of suicidal sentiment has been retained in this life, he notes, and he wonders if that's just a part of him now that will remain forever. He breaks through the void, but there is no point. He’s too small and insignificant to change the outcome that has already been set in motion when his tiny tear in space and time creates a rift between worlds. It’s worth the lives of millions, and somehow, through some gray static that the observing Ford cannot squint past, he makes it back by the guidance of its light. Alive. Alive, but in pain, and with so much left behind. And when he returns to his own world, hardly whole by all definitions, it’s as though he has just plunged underneath the water anyways. Something is choking him and the smell of alcohol burns the back of his throat like acid.
In the universe to his left, as he sits at his desk with his chin in his hands, Ford brings about the end of the world. And, oh, how he’s sorry for that. But in the universe to his right, someone else does. Some other pair of twins, decades into the future. He isn’t there to stop them when they find the three journals somehow. When the sky splits and all hell breaks loose.
He sees himself alive, but drinking himself beyond repair in the aftermath of something that he cannot decipher through the mist.
He sees himself alive, but with a crushing desire to go back in time and choose a little more wisely. A little more selfishly.
He sees himself dead.
He doesn't know what his _something_ really is, or ever was.
_So, what’ll it be, Sixer? I know which one you’ll choose._
He wants to be defiant and choose the right. Pull free from Bill’s dominance, fling himself over the edge, burn his portal to the ground. Finish what he has started before it’s beyond his control. He wants to taste the mud in the water and feel the shattering of his mind, his conscience...his ability to let Bill take what he wants from Ford’s universe.
He can’t let him win.
But he can’t let Stan die and the world fall if there’s a chance he can stop both.
A world without Stanford Pines would absolutely be a better one, and he knows it. It gnaws at him desperately, and he wants it to be untrue, but the way Bill laughs at him confirms his every fear. He is nothing but a pawn. His muse is the blue beast, ripping him to shreds. Bill is the gunshot, the tears, the final leap. Bill is everything and everyone. He is the void, endlessly hungry and always unsatisfied.
And yet, a world without Stanley Pines, a world that would end anyways by the hands of someone else, would be nothing. Absolutely nothing at all.
He stares at the postcards and he loathes them with all the anger he can manage so that it doesn’t slip away to sadness. He hates his brother (at least he wants to believe it), hates _himself_ for causing this. He’s still painfully bitter over what his brother has done to him, but for some reason seeing Stan dead is not as appealing as he once thought it could be. In his dreams he once longed for the day when he could make his brother pay for his actions and all his faults, but…the solemnity of what choice he has to make has cleared his judgement. It’s made everything disturbingly transparent, actually. What he hates most of all, though, is that he would, selfishly, still do almost anything to keep his twin alive. Which, his brother must be, since all of Bill’s possible futures revolve around Stanley Pines.
Ford blinks. | aaa8e48ceebd4a948522f77586fcaa31 | ['65599212a91f43ab9284ba1975852036'] | In a moment of sudden anxiety, he scrambles for a ledge, for a foothold, for _anything_ against the sheer cliff of nothingness. Stan is here, Ford saved him and everyone else, he needs to tell his brother more tell him _more_ get _UP_ Stanford can you, _please_ ? _Please, Ford, I need you, I worked so hard, please._
He fights against the water, resisting its tug and pull, but his eyes widen when he realizes suddenly that he has already sunk too deeply.
_wait_
Stan is in a boat far above him, and Ford waited too long to propel back up to the surface.
_wait for me_
He struggles blindly, coughing and gasping at the blood burbling up in his mouth like water, and the fingers that were on his face before seem to be clenching around one of Ford’s own hands.
_wait I can try I won’t quit not this time--_
He fights, and fights, and swims, but he is too far down.
Too far down, deep.
“No, Ford, stay awake, the kids and Soos are getting help, you’re gonna be fine. We’ll fix you up, just--oh shit--please--”
Ford sees Stanley’s face, red and wrinkled. It covers up all the triangles floating around in yellow and green. His eyes are bloodshot in this one moment of true seeing. It’s oddly terrifying, and Ford knows that _this is it_. He notes the pained look on Stan’s face, the pinched tightness of his brows and the way his mouth is curled up over grinding teeth. He looks old. So does Ford, of course, but Stanley seems like he’s aged another twenty years in these few seconds.
Ford tries his luck and spares a quick glance downwards through his eyelashes, just as far as he can look without moving his head, just to see what the damage really is, and shit shit _shit_ he really should not have done that because _everything_ is _everywhere_ (oh god oh god) and his body seizes up like he’s going to vomit but there’s nothing left but blood. And his chest starts to tighten, and Stanley whispers something meaningless _shh Sixer it’s okay it’s okay calm down we’ll patch you up shhhh_ but his brother is literally holding the slippery outlines of squishy vitals inside of Ford with what looks like his suit jacket. There’s a first-aid kit on the floor by his feet. One of Ford’s legs is bent sideways, and there is new gauze soaked red across it and crumpled in his twin’s hands. His bones are sticking in shattered pieces out _oh god_ his _bones_ are piercing through charred flesh and his clothes, black, are shiny with wetness. Ford wonders if Stanley could just kill him now, please, and maybe he says that aloud because his twin starts a whole other string of mutterings.
_shhh Sixer it’s okay Fordsie it’s okay pal_
“Stay still, Ford. You’ve lost a-a lot of blood.” Yes I fucking have, thinks Ford, and it’s still coming out in oceans. “You’ve gotta just stay still for a while, ’kay, but don’t fall asleep. Poindexter, I--Just stay awake and keep still for me, promise?”
_Really, Stanley. What have promises ever been worth to us?_ He maybe wants to say, but then again, Stan is keeping his insides...well... _inside_ for him, so. Another time.
Eventually, Ford blinks. Tearing his eyes from the mess that is his body takes energy, a _lot_ of energy, but he does it. He looks back to the man stained with blood in front of him whose glasses are spattered and smudged. He tries to say something, anything (maybe a thank-you), but all that comes out is a weak little noise. A whimper, sad and small.
_patch me up Stanley like you did when we were kids_
Stan’s breath hitches, and he looks at Ford, _really_ looks at him, until Ford thinks he can maybe even see through the red and failure and utter worthlessness reflected in his eyes. Maybe Stanley can see the man striving to do good and fix things. The man who walked on air in black space with open arms towards death, which came in the shape of a triangle.
Ford blinks.
Down, down, down, deep, he sinks.
Stan sees him.
_thank you_
He keeps holding Ford’s hand even though he’s submerged completely now. Even though the fading blue is swallowing him and all he can hear is that soft ringing sound that gently coaxes him into someplace better.
He killed Cipher. He did the first worthwhile thing in his whole life. Ford finished what he started, and he made it out for just enough time. This is a form of closure, he supposes. A last gift by the universe to test if he’s really changed, if he’s really gotten past the broken projects and fights and blue sucking him away. Now he knows, though, that Stanley was part of the reason he was ever able to kill Bill with his own hands. Without the portal, the experience, the knowledge he gained inside of it, Cipher would not be dead. The world would not be saved.
It was dangerous, oh, so dangerous to start the portal up again, which Stanley must have done, or how else could he be here? And maybe there’s a risk in that after all. There are probably small consequences, long-term factors...and maybe he could fix them, too, but...if he could just keep his eyes open…
_shoved him back hard and made him scream, so he pushed you right back you asshole and you fell and you cried out once and even now you can’t stop screaming_ |
ca232a81f67b410b997b2f400f1a3ddb | ['65656d8470014ca3bd01f1d05a79b3ed'] | Sherlock supposed that made sense and he nodded a little. "I've never had my own slave before...." He knew Father always told the staff at the manner what to do, ordering them around to do this and that. Was that his job as the Master? Any sort of social structure was usually lost on him. He understood the basic concept of slavery of course, but John was proving to him that owning a slave was more than he realized and not just like having a dog or other pet. "Father says slaves aren't supposed to eat or drink at the table with us, but I only eat down here if there is an important family meal or function." He spent a lot of time in his room or his secret lab. "I will take the tea in my room, then you can have some too and neither of us can get in trouble for it." He was thinking out loud again. "Since you are supposed to do chores, you will bring my food to me to my room when it is made." He couldn't think of anything else at the moment to have his slave do.
John's eyes widen and he smiled brightly. He had been planning on having some tea in the kitchen by himself as Sherlock drank his in the dining room, but he would much rather get to drink with someone else. John patted Sherlock's leg again and put his hands in his lap like he was used to. "It is okay. I'm sure you'll figure it out." John said in regards to Sherlock having never owned a slave before. He probably had a lot to learn so he would order John on how to be a good personal slave. And this at least meant he could learn to be a bit nicer to John too. "And I can do that. Do you want me to eat in the kitchen or in your room?" he asked.
How come John kept touching him? Sherlock was distracted by the question and he thought about that for a moment. "You are supposed to stay in the same room with me, remember?" He frowned. Was he being rude again? No one had made him think about it before, so he was usually careless with his words. Had that been a bit not good? He cleared his throat and then thought something else so maybe it wouldn't sound so awful. "So, obviously you will be eating in the same room with me." A thoughtful pause. "Except when I have to eat with the family, you will have to eat with other slaves whenever they do I guess."
John nodded. "Alright, Sherlock." He had forgotten Sherlock had said that, but sometimes there were different rules for eating. And sleeping, but Sherlock said he would already make John sleep in his room, on the floor. John tried not to frown too hard at that right now. Sherlock was being nicer at this moment anyway. The kettle rang and John jumped up into the kitchen. He poured the water into their cups and made Sherlock's tea like he had requested. He carried both cups carefully into the dinning room, not wanting to spill any. "Ready?" He asked.
Sherlock nodded and got up. He led them back toward the stairs and up to his room easily. He knew every inch of the manor, despite its massive size. He sat down at the desk he had against one wall. He was so used to being alone in his room, he only had the single chair to sit at. Now that he had a slave, maybe he should get more furniture. At least another chair. Maybe another table. The room was certainly big enough to hold it. His books and other possessions took up most of the desk though.
John followed Sherlock, walking a little slower so he wouldn't spill anything. He put Sherlock's tea on his desk in front of him (it was hard to find a place though) and sat on the floor beside Sherlock's chair. He blew on his tea and sipped it slowly. It was a lot better than the tea they had to drink at his old house, but he assumed it was because this was the tea the free-people in the house drank. "Thank you," he said, taking another sip. "It's your birthday right? How old did you turn?"
Sherlock took a sip of the tea. It tasted perfect. "It is good," he commented and then continued to drink it. "I'm a decade." He didn't care about his birthday but he was glad be older. When he was of age, he planned on moving out and living on his own. "I usually get a lot of toys, but I don't have any need for those. I think that is why my parents got me you this year. You said you like playing games. Do you want my toys? I don't have any need for them. I think they are in storage somewhere around the manor."
A decade? That was ten years right? Which meant that he was one year older than Sherlock give or take a few months. "I don't want to play with toys by myself." John couldn't help but wonder what kind of toys Sherlock had. They were probably really amazing and expensive toys too. He started to buzz a little with excitement. "Maybe that is your problem is you don't play with others." He took another sip and paused looking up at Sherlock. "So it that what I am? Am I like a toy?" | cc4a56b65b714f71898f6b1b0c27ab6a | ['65656d8470014ca3bd01f1d05a79b3ed'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED EASILY AND PLEASE HEED THE TRIGGER WARNINGS IN THE TAGS BEFORE PROCEEDING. This story deals with some very dark themes, often in a descriptive way. Consider yourself warned.
John stood before the double doors of his newest home, head down. He was cleaned up but still dirty, his hair disheveled and bruises littering his body. He sported a black eye and a split lip, though he couldn’t bring himself to feel too bad about it. He had gotten what he wanted from the fights, a new home with a new Master who could not be worse than Master Victor Trevor, who had taken him to bed and encouraged him to fight until John grew too violent and Trevor took to using his whips on him. Now John waited for the door to be opened. The messenger beside him held a note to be given to the man who would own him from this day until he was next sold.
_My dear Sherlock,_
_I give you this man for your enjoyment. I have been calling him Roger, though you are allowed to change his name. The deeds for him are wrapped up inside this letter, and you may do what you wish with him. He is a bad influence on my own household, and I believe that you run yours very well and might like to give him a try. Roger is quite good in bed, if you like a fight, though he also has some medical training and ability to really fight if you want to use him in the rings. But, as I said, do what you wish with him._
_Enjoy,_
_V. Trevor_
Sherlock had a slave answer the door, as if he would actually take the time to open the doors to his manor when he had people do it for him. He was informed he had be presented a gift. A new slave. He sighed and left his experiment to go take a look. He snatched the note and read it over quickly before fixing his gaze on the slave in front of him. "All right Boy, in you come." He waved a dismissive hand at the slave who had answered the door for him and they bowed deeply before retreating back to whatever duties they were supposed to performing. "You look like hell. Am I going to have trouble with you like Master Victor did?"
John felt the urge to growl at the man, but he knew better than to do that in a new home. Not to mention his hands were tied, so if this man got violent and knocked him over he would be unable to stop his fall without further injury. He waited a moment before speaking, carefully thinking about his words. "Possibly, Sir, if your delight is raping those under your command as well." When he spoke his voice and face were flat. There was no reason to sugar coat what Victor had done, even though it was legal because John was nothing more than manual labor. "Also, possibly if you get violent with me. They've been unable to break me of retaliation so far." There was a hint of pride in his voice at that. He had always been a fighter, had been planning on enlisting before his family went to shit and sold him.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I am well aware of Victor's predilections with those he employs under him. Just like him renaming his slaves. Your name, what is it Boy? Unless you enjoy being called 'Roger' or whatever name I stick you with. At the moment, it will most likely be 'Boy'. I am only violent if you don't do your job. I whip my slaves if they fail to be anything other than obedient. Twenty lashes, tied to a pole outside and then left there all day and no one is allowed to approach you until I decide to untie you. I've never had a slave who needed that punishment more than once. Your hands will remained tied. I have a pretty full staff, besides being a fuck toy and fighting do you have any other duties you perform well? The note said something about medicine. I've no use for that at the time."
John kept his eyes below the man's chin. "My name, officially, is John. However you may rename me as to whatever it is you wish, _Master_." He emphasized the last word, letting it come out of his lips like a poison. He hoped that this man would grow tired of him and sell him soon enough. "Besides those, I suppose I look good as a coat hanger or a decorative piece for a room." He let fall from his lips, already knowing that he would be the one that would grow to be punished more than once. He had never been good at following the orders of his Masters. Years as a free man did that to some people. "I was training as a medic and a surgeon before I was sold. I know some chemistry, and am quite literate and I can even write." John gazed around from his peripherals, taking in the room they were in. Hallway, quite empty of any sort of decoration save for stern looking men. Ancestors of some sort, most likely. |
3bf6e2474a8040dcb27ecd853f4960ab | ['657b9bbb9f384a4186208df5d8e771b5'] |
LGFU
_Music throbbed and bounced against the black painted brick walls, inlaced with a layer of sound proofing; as to contain he thuds of bass which vibrate through people and the building alike._
_Multicoloured lights dance across a wave of limbs, swirling in undefined patterns._
_Off to the left side, there are long black leather sofas situated for party goers in large groups, forming an unlinked oval. Florecent lighting seperates the area from the dance floor, which seems to be any other square inch of the place. No table in the middle meant easy access, yet the possibility of a spilt drink now and then as people would join together. Speaking of drinks; the bar is only a few steps away - let up by dimmed florescent lighting above the shelves of alcohol and the single tubed half circle of florescent reflectong the shape of the bar top itself. The mirror on ceiling made to fit around the shape of the bar also helped create extra illumination._
Like any other night, the _'Inner Walls'_ is packed, occupying more humans than thought possible having looked at the exterior. It is a simple box shaped building with what little few windows it had, painted over in black. That doesn't stop the glow of multicolored light from showing now and then.
Upon entry, having succeeded in fooling or assuring the pair of bouncers stationed outside of your age, you notice a slim staircase to your right. Darkly painted, barly noticeable were it not for whatever light the street lamps provides flowing through the open door in glimmers and bouncing off the painted handrail.
Though you are told, harshly; Staff only. No amount of bickering will gain you access.
Jean wish's Jeager could've understood that the first time the bouncer told him. Who needs to be told six times? Then shouted at and threatened the seventh...
_Why are you even interested? Idiot._
But Jean doesn't say anything, he leaves Mikasa to stand behind Jeager, glaring at the bouncer in her tight black dress. It's obviously not doing anything but giving the steroid enhanced muscle power something to look at.
Armin is under the fine glow of the street light, five or so steps away, his whole being radiates agitation and the need to intervine. Annie, Jeager's girl, has her hand on his elbow; Jean can tell it's only a faint touch, though Armin is visibly restrained.
Connie and sasha, fucker and dumbass; writhing in the line formed to the right are fcing each other, the self proclaimed -oh so many painstakingly proclaimed times- 'best friends' are conversing over the "buzz" they cant wait to experience. They're too loud, too obnoxious, grinning manically. Jean can hear them from his spot besides the second bouncer, closer to the entrance then it looks like Muscle Head will ever let Jeager.
The second bouncer needs a nickname too, he decides. _Something creative._
Jean hears Sasha say -screech- how she thinks she hasn't had enough carbs before coming, how that apparently her unhealthy consumption lessens the chances of a hangover even if she's hammered. Connie goes all ... touchy.. and dramatically clutches at her shoulders, swaying her as he yells about 'why now of all times' and how much of an idiot she is.
_You can talk..._
Corporal looks like he's about to tell them both, Muscle Head and Jeager included, how indefinitely stupid they're being. "A shame on humanities resources" or something along those lines, something philosophical and all knowing mixed in with the dramatic. Like the groves in his face, the down turned frown that has them all shiver with dread.
Or so it did at first, though now they know him, his quirks, his obsessions with cleanliness and his overbearing tendencies. Jean regards him as scary as his father. _Pitiful._
Corporal has always had a violent nature, added with his military history, Jean thinks the nickname is valid.
Doc, Hanji Zoe, Mad woman, The Joker in his halloween get up, has a hand petting Corporal's shoulder. Slow and clearly irritating. She knows that, so she continues from what Jean can tell of Corporal's expression.
Captain, High Lord Erwin, doesn't care, he looks down at them, faint smile on his lips.
Jean and the Captain have never uttered a word to each other. They've known each other for five years.
From what Jean can tell, the Captain is a major sadist. He obviously enjoys Corporals discomfort over anyone else's, though Jean doubts Corporal has caught on. Doc looks like she has. Hence the extra pats, nudges, slaps to the back these pasts few months. Six in total; Only Jean has noticed.
Aside from Corporal, who's getting the bruises.
Krista and Ymir, mainly Ymir, apparently knows both Muscle Head and he who shall be named.. No. Jean still needs to think about that one... Anyways, they both headed on before them all. Ymir waved goodbye to them half heartedly and strutted inside, female impowerment and all that as she clapped the second bouncer on the arm.
The innocent being Krista pretends to be had turned to the group, face scrunched in 'anguish' as she was left to decide what to do next. Jean had turned away, like he didn't know what she really wanted. Fucker, Dumbass and even Corporal ushered or gestured for her to go, cooing words at her as if she were a rare mythical creature. Corporal had conveyed the same message with his eyebrows.
The attention whore she was, she played her favourite game, disagreeing and telling them, disheartened, that she couldn't leave them behind. Until everyone, Doc, Captain, Mikasa, Jeager and from afar, Armin and Annie sent her encouragement. As always.
As always, Jean never says a thing. What do you say to someone so blatantly fake?
Silence, or as silent the outside of a club with stiffled shouting and a disoranized que of strangers can be. She turns to him, meekly, pouting she had asked; "Jean?"
_What could he do?_
He shrugged, turning away from her. Looking to a point further away, to what looked like a shine of light. He hears distant voices, cheers. Probably a bar.
She hadn't of been satisfied, she never is, he never contributes to her bullshit lies. He doesn't play her game and she knows.
Ymir had strutted out, called to her impatiently until the feeble little girl ran to her, checkered skirt flying in the air, leaving laced panties to peak.
He wasn't interested, though he knows everyone else looks. It's just part of the game.
Jeager had called him a dick, arms wrapped around Annie.
Jean had shrugged. | ba5346a7955d45c9b8e03621548da7fc | ['657b9bbb9f384a4186208df5d8e771b5'] | Neville thought it was hilarious and Harry could still hear his roaring laugh later as he turned the water off and trotted towards his wand. Casting accio directed at the other room. Harry heard a scramble as both his friends and school uniform moved across the other room.
Yelps of surprise and calls of 'harry!' Stopped as all his stuff levitated against outside the door.
Walking over, clicking said door open a crack to let his clothes pile in and onto the countertop as he busied himself by shutting the door.
Ignoring whispers of conversation outside, Harry dryed off, dressed and looked into the mirror.
His cheeks were flushed from both steam and orgasm, lips full and reddened. Hair long and an uneven mixture of wet, gentle, ringlets and semi curls at the tips. Eyes bright and skin a healthy, even, glow could both have been from his much loved sleep or orgasm.
Walking out, shoes clicking on the floor, he was greeted by the sight of Seamus posing like what he imagined was an impatient father.
Doubling over in laughter, Harry tried to turn away from the sight as though it would have him laugh less.
"What?" Spluttered Seamus as Neville replied for Harry.
"You remind me of my Gran when I tell her that, 'Yes, me and Luna really did only talk'."
An indignified blush crept up on his face as Ron walked passed, commenting 'you old man' as he went to go piss.
"You really do!" Dean agreed as he started laughing harder than Harry.
"Whatever." Gathering his things, Seamus tried to stride out the dorm with an ounce of self repect.
"What time is it?" Harry hurridly asked, coughing to rid himself of the croak in his voice from laughter before Seamus glared at him any harder. If it was possible.
Muttering the spell, glittering golden shapes formed.
"Thirty four past seven." Seamus concluded and then walked out, followed by a scrambling to keep up Dean.
Both Harry and Neville could hear Seamus' embarrassed shouting and Deans gradually fading laughter as they both descended downstairs. |
78b93427117a487eb11f336dac9414ca | ['657dabcb8d7042a38db76b6d0b243ddc'] | _Mako was still uncertain. Truth be told,_ this _was the worst odds he had ever faced: stuck in a snowstorm with a person to protect as well as trying to find Shifters to kill was no easy feat. He would sooner turn around and head back to the mansion for a hot cup of jasmine tea, but Asami's decision was final. He had to stay and protect her._
_Asami scanned the trees in front of them methodically, light green eyes sweeping back and forth for any sign of movement. Asami knew that the snowstorm spelled disaster; it gave the Shifters an edge over them. But, despite the odds, there was a persuasive voice inside her head that told her to spill blood tonight. She listened to it,intent on fulfilling the command._
_Asami almost missed it: a pair of golden eyes that ducked behind a tree to her far right. She froze, holding a fist in the air to signal for her men to stop. Her heart was in her throat, and she was doing her best to steady her breaths. She glared at the tree, willing the creature to show itself again._
_Asami heard a soft thump to her left, along with a blood curdling scream. She whipped her head to the right, seeing one of her men under a freakishly large, dog-like creature. His forearm was caught in it's jaw, crimson liquid dribbling onto his chest._
_In less than a second Asami had fired her arrow at it, the silver head piercing it's shoulder instead of it's neck. It yelped, letting go of the man and retreating into the forests, a red trail running behind it. She rushed up to him, her eyes never leaving his arm. He clutched the limb so hard his knuckles turned white, shaking like a leaf in a strong breeze. He breathed heavily through gritted teeth, looking from Asami to his arm with desperation. One look at the mangled arm and she could tell his bones had been broken. Asami knelt down, helping the man to sit up. She reached over to grab his backpack, sifting through it to look for any piece of cloth to stop the flowing blood. She found a spare scarf, wrapping the blue material around his forearm._
_The Shifter was almost like a phantom: here one second then gone the next. She was furious at herself for missing the shot. The first Shifter they encounter hours after midnight and she let it get away._
_Asami stepped away, her breath misting in front of her face in large puffs. A hand landed on her shoulder. Mako looked worriedly at the wounded man, then cast the fuming woman a sidelong glance. "How hurt are you, Daw?"_
_Daw was mumbling incoherently, clutching his arm to his chest. Asami answered the question. "His arm is broken." She muttered, bitterness in her words. What was she going to do now?_
_Asami looked at the rest of the hunters. They were checking the surrounding areas to make sure that this was a lone wolf attacking and not a pack. There were ten people in the group in total, nine if counting able-bodied people. Daw would have to get back as soon as possible, and that meant sacrificing men to escort him back._
_The snowstorm began to subside, and Asami could see farther in front of her now. She looked at the trail of blood leading into the forest._
_This was her chance. It was now or never._
_"Kai, Tanho!" Asami pointed at Daw. "Get him back to the mansion." She reloaded her crossbow, new hope rising up at the sight of the blood trail. "Everyone else, follow me." Asami started down the trail, eager to find her prey. "That Shifter couldn't have gotten far."_
_Maybe she would get her wolfskin before sunrise._
****************************************************
Asami's knees felt weak, her vision dark around the edges. The ground felt unsteady underneath her feet, her empty stomach churning. She was locked up in a cage without her weapons, a _Shifter_ right in front of her.
And _she couldn't kill it_.
Asami grabbed the iron bars, her legs waning. She felt like she wanted to pass out, fatigue overcoming her. This couldn't be happening. It was supposed to be the other way around. Asami should be the one standing outside the cell, if she would even keep the Shifter alive.
"Be careful," The woman warned. "you lost a lot of blood fighting us." A warm, calloused hand fell on her own, almost comfortingly.
Asami recoiled from the touch as if burned, collapsing on her rear and scrambling on all fours to get away from the Shifter. She was scared, there was no denying it. Asami was convinced that soon enough, they would open the door and do terrible things to her, just like her father warned her. Her fearful mind was already conjuring up scenarios of her arm being torn off, or her leg being bitten into.
"Relax." The Shifter held up her hands in a placating gesture. "I won't hurt you." Asami wanted to believe that; she really did. It almost sounded genuine. Is a Shifter even capable of kindness? It was such a good lie that if she were a different person, she may have believed it. But she wasn't another person; she was Asami Sato, daughter of the Greatest Hunter in Republic City. She sees through every lie that Shifters could tell.
Cold stone pressed against Asami's back, causing her to wince. The woman moved to a table that Asami hadn't seen before. All her gear was on it: her overcoat, crossbow, boots, revolver and dagger, even her silver necklace. Asami felt a little violated, reaching up to the spot where her necklace once was. Despite being fully clothed, Asami felt so naked without it. | 5480e19fb42841c6af66eac87157e5d8 | ['657dabcb8d7042a38db76b6d0b243ddc'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> There's probably a couple of you that have been waiting for an update on my other fic for god knows how long. Instead, I bring you something else entirely: an I've-been-working-on-this-for-forever-for-another-thingie-but-it-couldn't-live-up-to-provided-standards-so-I-shall-now -post-it-up-here-and-go-cry-in-a-corner fic. :D
> Ignore this author, just go read the fic.
_Bolin crashed the cymbals and snare with a brutal fervor, which made them shake violently with their treatment. Mako swung the neck of his bass and furrowed his sharp eyebrows and rocked his head back and forth in time with the tempo. Opal was completely oblivious to anything outside of her guitar and the music she produced. Korra herself was utterly lost in the feeling of her fingers skirting over the fretboard as she picked out notes with a rarely found zeal. Korra tilted her head up to meet the microphone and inhaled deeply to-_
“How about you, Korra?”
Korra snapped out of her reverie, the noise of the instruments replaced with a whirring air conditioning unit and a coughing student. She sat up straight, wiping the drool that had gathered at the corner of her mouth.
She had absolutely no idea of what had taken place for the duration of time that she fell asleep in class.
Raiko tapped his foot impatiently, and raised an eyebrow. He must have been expecting an answer of some sort, by the way he and the other students strung about the room gazed her way expectantly.
“Uhh…” Korra rubbed the back of her neck nervously, a habit she had developed since a young age, her eyes darting around the classroom, searching for just about anything that would get her out of this situation.
A slight, almost barely noticeable scratching noise sounded on her right. Korra found the source of noise, trying her best not to move her head. Bolin glanced up at her urgently, repeatedly underlining a number.
“Eighteen thirty-four…?”
Korra looked back up at Raiko, and he seemed impressed. He nodded slowly. “Yes. Eighteen thirty-four.”
Korra breathed a sigh of relief, and went back to listening but not understanding what was being said. She turned to Bolin, and mouthed a small thanks. The boy shot Korra a grin and thumbs up. What would she do without that boy?
-
Korra rocked back and forth on her heels, a box of noodles between her fingers. Mako stood next to her, furiously tapping the screen of his phone. His signature scowl was in place, but it was fastened tighter than usual. Several people walked past them, in groups, and in pairs and walking alone. They chatted idly, increased their pace, or were completely oblivious to the people trying to avoid them as they stared at their phone and not at where they walked. The late afternoon sun was blocked by dense clouds, and allowed everyone a little relief from the stifling heat.
Korra stopped her movements, peering at the taller boy. “Who’re you talking to?” She inquired.
Mako looked at her through the corner of his eye for a brief moment, before flitting back to his phone. “Tanho wants to borrow my bass.”
Korra frowned at the mention of him. “Why? Doesn’t he consider his jazz his child or something?”
Mako scoffed. “Of course he does. He wants to play for some girl he met at a club.” Mako smirked at his phone. “I guess this is the closest thing I’ll get to him admitting a precision is better than a jazz.”
Korra laughed at the notion. “All about subtext, I guess.”
Bolin burst through the doors of Narook’s that they were standing next to, turning to them. “Got the goods?”
Korra held up the box, giving it a light shake. “Right here.”
Bolin walked past them, sticking his hands into his pockets. They followed him, Mako pushing his phone into his pocket upon replying to Tanho with a satisfactory “fuck off”. Korra sidled up to the stockier boy, trying to start a conversation. “Guess what gossip I heard today.”
Bolin made a show about thinking hard about it. “Hmm… I don’t know. What did you hear?”
“People think that Lin and Kya are banging.”
Bolin levelled Korra with an incredulous stare. “And how might you know that?”
Korra increased her pace slightly to see Mako better, who walked on the other side of Bolin. “Pre-Med students said she wouldn’t shut up about how great her weekend was. Plus, her scarf didn’t hide all the marks.”
Mako added to the conversation. “Lin came to class with a funny walk and a turtleneck. The dots connect well enough.” He mused.
Korra huffed out a breath, folding her arms petulantly. “I can’t believe an old lady is getting laid more than I am.”
Bolin threw his head back in laughter. “You probably just have some bad luck.” He patted her shoulder sympathetically.
“Wait.” Mako piped up. “ _Have_ you been looking for anyone lately?”
Korra frowned, taking offence to the question. “Why yes, I have been looking for someone. And it hasn’t been working out too well for me. What, are you guys magically expecting me to walk into a-“
Before Korra could finish her sentence, she felt her body colliding with someone else’s, her feet tangling with theirs and Korra’s momentum sending them to the pavement. Her head smacked against the person’s collarbone, just as her hands connected with the ground.
Korra’s eyes opened, having closed during the fall. She snapped her head up so fast it could’ve caused whiplash.
Cyan eyes landed on light green ones, and Korra’s breath caught in her throat. Korra was now laying on top of a woman- a beautiful woman, to be exact. The woman had a sharp jawline, pale but slightly flushed skin, red-painted and parted lips and eyebrows that were currently high on her forehead. A chest rose under Korra’s, and a hot breath fell on her temple.
“Holy shit I’m so sorry!” |
182482d5c4bd4d109afd5791ba45113e | ['659b7f92d43a43fe9d68ca2ebc09c717'] | “That’s because I didn’t say it,” she smiles taking of her black coat and putting it on the bar stool next to the one she decides to sit on. She’s wearing one of this perfectly matched outfits where the white shirt is put into the black leather skirt secured by equal belt with golden buckle. The collar of her jacket is also leather as it duplicating the texture of the skirt just like knee boots she’s wearing. All the details are measured: tiny golden earrings match the color of the watch on her wrist and the buckle. She has a French manicure that either is just made or she is really careful when it comes to her hands which might be the point since they both seem very neat. It hits Feuilly again how much she’s out of the picture sitting in clean but still not the most elegant kitchen annex having her legs crossed and back straightened.
“So…” He starts awkwardly, “what is it, then?”
She smiles again and it’s the same bright smile that before.
“Lea,” she offers, “it’s nice of you asking me that question, Feuilly. Do you maybe have a pen?”
He puts Percy on the ground and heads to the cupboard next to the TV.
“Don’t you need a paper too?” He asks as he gives her the only pen he’s sure is working placing himself in front of her.
“No, thanks. I’ve got my own,” she pulls the stationery out of her satchel and picks one set only to hide the rest back. “You might think it’s weird to carry that stuff around but I prefer the word unusual.”
He laughs letting Percy to jump into his lap and then onto the bar top. The cat smells Lea’s hand, the one she’s not holding the pen in, before tugging its head under it demanding attention. She smiles scratching the pet which decides to lie down just in front of her. Feuilly draws his hands to take Percy away but Lea just shakes her head.
“If you’re going to take her, because you think she’s bothering me then don’t,” she puts the satchel on the right side of the cat and starts writing. “I don’t really mind. “
He smiles, looking at her with even more curiosity than before.
“I also don’t mind you talking,” she adds after a while. “This silence isn’t awkward yet but you know… If you want to ask me anything or so, go on, Feuilly.”
She puts up her gaze only once, drifting it across the room barely stopping at the redhead’s face before coming back to the paper.
“I’m just wondering how did you met Bahorel,” Feuilly eventually decides to say.
“At the bar,” she smirks not looking away from the paper. “Which is not that surprising, you must admit.”
“No. It’s not. It’s just he’s never mentioned you and, don’t get me wrong, but it’s weird since you know my name and that the cat is actually she,” he blurts out and now when he said it out loud it sounds even weirder.
“Well, he mentioned both you and Percy few times and I’ve got good memory. And you haven’t asked me yet for how long do we know each other.”
Lea winks at him putting the paper into the envelope. She doesn’t bother to close it properly, just folds the top flap.
“How long do you know each other, then?”
She laughs. It’s surprising how loud and deep her laugh is and Feuilly find himself smiling, the sound escaping her lips making him relaxed and gleeful.
“I won’t give you that,” Lea says after she stops laughing. “That’d be too easy.”
She stands up grabbing her coat and satchel. She hands him the envelope.
“It was really nice to meet you in person. Don’t bother walking me to the doors,” she adds as she notices him standing up. “I know the way.”
She pets Percy one more time before walking out of the tiny kitchen annex and smiles once more as she walks through the doors.
“See you around,” he bids her goodbye.
“Hope so,” she replies and the doors go shut.
It briefly crosses his mind to read the letter.
Bahorel comes back the next evening. His entry is announced by the carpetbag being dropped mildly aggressively on the floor and the loud groan as he lies down next to it.
“If I will ever again want to go to visit my sister, will you, please, punch me in the face with a pan?”
“I would but we have only one pan so you know.” Feuilly answers kicking him lightly in the ribs. Bahorel grunts in response. The redhead laughs and adds: “You had a visitor yesterday.”
“She actually came here?”
“Yeah and…”
“… she left the letter.”
“How do you know?” Feuilly is surprised. He’d put his money that Bahorel is smirking into the carpet now. “She stepped by, wrote it and then left.”
“You’ve let Lea in?” he raises himself on his forearms, looking at his flat mate with surprise and something very similar to worry.
“Yes…”
“Give it to me.” Bahorel orders and the other man finds himself suddenly being very curious about the envelope’s content. He however he passes it to his flat mate without trying to find it out knowing that this kind of behavior can cost him some bruises and maybe even a broken bone.
Even if Bahorel is surprised the envelope isn’t closed he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes out the paper and reads it quickly, his eyes don’t stop moving until he finishes the last line. Then he lets out a shaky laugh.
“You’re not going to tell me what’s in it, are you?” Feuilly asks.
“You had a goddamn day to read it. You’ve lost your chance.”
It earns him another light kick in the ribs and he laughs again pressing the paper against his chest.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Look, look! We have a name! Yay!
> As always, I hope you enjoyed!
**Author's Note:**
> As always I hope you had fun.
> Go do something more productive now then reading my shitty writing.
>
> I can't fgure out how to put notes to every chapter so... I'm going to put them here?
> [1] This is probably the shortest chapter, though I'm not sure cos I don't have all of them written down yet. However the second and the third are definitely longer, so beware my friends. | c40c339e84914eca9f9bba0375d9957c | ['659b7f92d43a43fe9d68ca2ebc09c717'] | “I like this one.” He laughs, earning a bow from her.
It’s Saturday, which means either clubbing night or bar hopping night and since the person who makes the choice this time is Courfeyrac the decision is rather obvious. So Grantaire ends up dressed up in the tightest jeans and V-top he owns, buying the bottle of average vodka before heading to Feuilly’s and Bahorel’s on the before party. It’s when he is looking for his wallet, his hand stumps upon the paper in his pocket, he’d completely forgot about.
As he walks into the flat, after quick knocking he puts the bottle on the kitchen top, next to already prepared glasses. He throws the envelope on Bahorel, who ignored his friend’s entry, too busy watching “Hannibal” rerun.
“Salander sends her regards.”
Bahorel laughs and picks the paper up, without even looking at it. He puts it on top of the other identical, but opened envelope and grins widely as Courfeyrac enters the flat followed by already tipsy Joly and Bousset.
“Whatcha got there?” asks Feuilly walking out of the balcony, smelling of just smoked cigarettes.
“Scotch.” Answers pre-med student, holding the bottle up above his head.
“We’re going to mix scotch with vodka?”
“You know what they say. Go hard or go home.” Jokes Courf taking off his jacket.
Grantaire makes a mental note to ask Bahorel about envelopes as he is handed the glass with golden liquid.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So this is how you put Chapter Notes... Well :>
> This one is definitely longer than the first one.
> I hope you liked it :>
3. Feuilly
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Lazy and boring Sunday isn't as lazy and boring as Feuilly thought it would be considering he has an unexpected visitor.
It’s Sunday and on Sundays the tattoo shop is usually closed unless there are some special appointments made. However, today there aren’t any so Feuilly is planning to spend most of the day catching up with some TV Series and writing his essay on the history evening classes. Percy, the cat he adopted a while ago, jumps on the sofa and curls next to him. She lies there purring from time to time and demanding Feuilly’s attention. He mindlessly scratches her behind the ear only half focusing on the TV screen when he hears the doorbell. He groans as Percy jumps off the sofa and runs towards the doors ready to hiss at whoever dared to disturb them.
On his way to the doors Feuilly picks her up and settles under his arm. As he undo the lock he expects to see hangover Grantaire or Eponine with Gavroche asking him for taking the boy into custody for the day. However, a woman in front of him isn’t similar to any of them. If he’d be honest, he would say she doesn’t remind him of anyone.
She’s standing there, the black leather satchel tugged under her left arm mirroring the position he’s holding Percy in. She smiles at him, before saying in a husky voice:
“Hi, I’m looking for a guy named Bahorel. I didn’t mix up the addresses, did I?”
“Nah, but he’s not here right now.” Feuilly answers mentally thanking himself for holding the cat. If this is one of those girls his flat mate pissed off maybe she’ll be tactful enough not to throw whatever she planned on throwing at the person with an animal. Thought he may be wrong concluding from the way she looks. She reminds him of the lecturer from the sophomore year: the women so naturally coldly elegant and sedated, that the time she laughed in his class presence for the first time freaked them all out enough not to talk to the end of said lecture.
Nonetheless the woman seems to be disappointed with the information in completely non-aggressive way. She sighs offering Feuilly half smile.
“That’s bad,” she decides but doesn’t leave yet. The redhead is confused. She doesn’t seem like anyone Bahorel usually hangs out with. Neither is she the type he’s hooking up with from time to time. She doesn’t look like his university or gym friends. Truth to be told, she looks out of place here, in front of him, in front of Bahorel’s flat and Feuilly can’t imagine this all in all elegant, small and so composed woman talking to or even being in the presence of his loud, tank build friend. Maybe it’s politeness maybe curiosity but he blurts out before she decides to go:
“Do you maybe want me to pass him something?”
“Um…” She starts, shifting slightly nervously. “That would be nice of you but these are pretty detailed information, more of directions in fact, and I really don’t want him to get them messed up.”
“Oh,” Is all Feuilly can say.
“Do you mind if I.. uhm…” She licks her lips, clearly uncomfortable with the words that are going to leave her mouth. “Would it be a problem if I stepped in and wrote it down so you could pass him it later? I won’t be able to drop it by anytime soon. He doesn’t pick up the phone and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to contact him later either.”
“No, no. I mean come in,” he agrees stepping back to let her in.
She smiles at him with the one of the brightest smiles he’s ever seen as she passes him by.
“We don’t really own a table so use the bar top,” he instructs her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” |
965539f45f064cda985ad545eb0fdb5e | ['65a558d0ba744e7b8862f9a4cd275e3c'] | “Good girl,” he told the kubrow while petting her for leaving the now deceased Onoskelis open for the killing blow. While pulling the sword out of the demon’s corpse, he discovers a set of glowing Nordic runes that highlights a path towards a secret entrance in response to the blood of an Onoskelis flowing out of the beast. The kubrow that assisted him began following the path highlighted by the runes “You want me to follow you somewhere?” Eric asked the canine as she barked in response to his question. He then switches his Galatine Prime for a Braton Prime as he begins to follow the hound while providing cover fire for the Legion’s defenders as they begin their advance towards their Daimyo. But before he could continue following the rune-marked path, he sees a ball of fire attacking the Legion’s snipers. Fearing for his wife, he begins to Resonate one of his Warframe’s abilities and hastily climbs the Citadel until he arrives at one of the sniping points. But by the time he gets there, a Chort kills one of the snipers by landing on him, ripping his upper torso from the rest of his body while taking several shots and tossing it aside. Before it could attack another sniper, Eric shocks it in place while he tends to Ariel and the surviving snipers.
“You okay hon?” He asks his wife. “I’m fine,” Ariel responded, “but this sniper point has been compromised.” “Sniper leader to Shogun,” the leader of the Legion’s snipers reports to her Shogun. “Our position’s been compromised, requesting permission to reposition to the next sniping point.” “Permission granted,” Touga responded “Get your team to fall back and find a new sniping position.” “Understood sire.” “C’mon princess, we're relocating.” “Just go,” Ariel told the sniper leader as she holsters her Vectis Prime and pulls out an Akstiletto Prime as she moves to her husband's side. “My husband and I will stall this monster.” “Alright Princess,” the sniper leader grants Ariel’s request as she prepares to fall back, “your ass better regroup with us once you two love birds are done.” The Saigoku Legion’s snipers fall back leaving the couple to deal with the Chort that had just recovered from its electrocution. As the Chort attempts to punch Ariel, she and Eric start firing their weapons at it. Causing it to stagger at every burst. Eventually, the demon manages to endure the bursts and charges directly towards Ariel in an effort to kill her. Before the beast could land the killing blow on her Eric charges in front of her and uses his own Braton Prime as a shield. Due to the demon's other worldly strength, the rifle shatters upon impact with the demon's fist allowing it to punch both Ariel and Eric off of the compromised Sniping Position to the garden that comprises of the top of the Citadel's Outer Barbican. The two managed to summon their blades to absorb the majority of the impact caused by their fall, but Eric began to cough up blood due to the blunt trauma he endured from the Chort's punch as he and Ariel began to collapse on their knees.
"Eric please..." Ariel pleads to Eric as she struggles to stand back up using her swords as a crutch "Hang in there." Ariel and Eric continue to struggle to get back on their feet as the Chort crashes down in front of them. While the demon walks up to Eric in a second attempt to kill him Ariel screams "No!" as she incapacitates the demon while generating a green aura around it. Realizing the opportunity his wife left for him, he pulls out a Lex Prime and fires several shots at the incapacitated demon all while the bullets he shoots at the Chort slowly begins to mend his wounds. Ariel later redraws her Akstiletto Prime and begins firing at the demon as well. "Time to turn the tables on these monsters." She says to herself as her right hand begins to emit sea green energy before she slams the ground in front of her, releasing a wave of energy that heals the wounds and injuries of every surviving Saigoku Legion soldier and Orokin Black Ops member. Realizing that his body is no longer injured, he turns towards Ariel with Galatine Prime in hand and tells her "Thank you Ariel, now lets end this beast." Ariel smiles before she pulls her Skana Primes from the ground and charges towards the Chort just as the aura around its body dissipates.
6. Chapter 6
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Noticing the wave of energy being broadcasted all over the Citadel, Shen ultimately realizes that she can no longer rest while her new home is under siege.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This chapter along with the previous one and next 2 will occur simultaneously.
"I can't just sleep around at a time like this," Shen said under her breath as she gets out of bed "I have to do something." She then puts on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants before she slowly opens the door to the suite's lobby. She slowly and quietly walks towards the door connecting the suite to the hallway while grabbing a Lato Prime pistol. She opens the door to examine the hallway while aiming down the sight with her pistol. The hallway seems clear for the moment, she gives a slight sigh of relief as she slowly exits her suite and begins to follow the signs that are directing her to the central elevator. After pressing a button, Shen searches the area around her for any sign of demons. As the elevator door opens, she points her gun towards the face of Lilana who shows no hostilities towards Dr. Shen's daughter. "You're searching for something your father kept hidden from Touga's Legion aren't you?" she asks Shen. "How do you know my father," Shen responds "and what secret is he hiding from the Saigoku Legion?" "You'll find your answer within a hidden room within the Citadel's Command Center," Lilana opens her right hand and reveals an Orokin Key lying on her palm. "This key will reveal the door to you but you must hurry." Shen takes the key and runs into the elevator as Lilana walks out of it. "The fate of everyone rests in your hands." The cyborg closes the door in front of Shen before she could turn around. "Orion," The succubus calls her cephalon "search for hostile targets within this compound. That succubus cannot be allowed to go near Marjani's son." "I'm afraid I cannot do that Mistress Lilana," the cephalon replied "Why not?" She asks "An Orokin Dax signature has been detected," Orion reported to his mistress "Identification, Teshin."
Before the cyborg could ask her Cephalon any other questions, she deflects a strike from a nikana as a figure dashes past her only to be halted by the Dax Orion discovered. "I am warning you deserter of the horde," Teshin tells Lilana as he positions the edge of his nikana towards her throat. "You believe that you've completely cut ties with the Red Goddess by embracing cyberization. But you have not. Not according to the eyes that oversee this world. Underneath your augmentations, you are still just a hellspawned demon." "I don't need you to remind me Dax," Lilana scornfully responded to the Dax hindering her as she grabs the blade of Teshin's Nikana. "But we should be more concerned about the safety of Marjani's son, rather than tearing each other apart." She forces Teshin to lower his arm before walking towards the hallway. "Bring any harm to Ohgun, Lilana," the Dax warns Lilana as he sheaths his Nikana and follows the cyborg's footsteps "and you will answer to my sword."
"Shen, don't tell me you're actually going to listen to that cyborg." Central said to Shen as she was walking into a deserted command center. "This place is definitely that of dad's design..." she told herself as she shines a light generating from the Orokin Key Lilana gave her towards the area straight ahead of her until a socket bearing the shape of the key emerges from the floor of the Geoscape. Shen examines the socket for a moment before inserting the key inside. Once the key is locked into the socket, the floor surrounding the geoscape separates revealing a spiral staircase leading to a basement area. After the staircase is revealed, the key emerges from the socket allowing Shen to to reclaim it before heading downstairs with a flashlight turned on to the left side of her pistol.
Upon reaching the hidden room, a feminine voice said "New visitor detected, initiating identification scan." A set of yellow lasers begin to envelop the ceiling of the room before very slowly descending towards the floor before disappearing. "Scan complete," the voice declared "user identified as Shen, Lily." The lights suddenly began to turn on within the room as Shen notices that she is in a server room hidden from the eyes of the Saigoku Legion. "Massive wave of intruders detected, requesting permission to engage Auto-Defense Precept." "I have a gut feeling that this must be the Citadel's secret dad's been hiding..." Shen thought to herself as she inputs the command using an yellow-glowing keyboard to activate the secret Raymond Shen kept from Touga. "Authorization granted," the voice acknowledges the command Shen inputted into the terminal. "Activating Auto-Defense Precept. Activating Personality module." "Shen, it's good too see you again," the voice's tone changes from autonomous to sassy "but first we got some goddamn demons to push off my turf! I'm bring our defenses back online!" | 8932bcf4923b4e95ad30c1d51a62188e | ['65a558d0ba744e7b8862f9a4cd275e3c'] | 1. Marmalade's Agony
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> This is a very short story showing my perspective on General Marmalade's fate after The Beast's Lair. SPOILERS AHEAD! If you haven't played Spacelords and/or played through "The Beast's Lair", please play that mission before you read any further!
After Loaht makes a complaint to Harec about the food that was made in the Raider's Base of Opertaions, Alicia fist bumps his right shoulder and tells him "Come on, big guy! Right now, somewhere in Hell Marmalade is getting fucked up the ass with a pineapple." Alicia's comment causes herself, Harec, Lycus, and Loaht to laugh for a bit. "Yeah..." Loaht said as he begins to imagine General Marmalade being rendered into a frail man being held down by two Chorts in Hell. He tries to struggle to break free while several Onoskeli, Incubi and Succubi along with Lucifer and the Red Goddess intentionally spectate his attempt to escape, but the grips the demons have on him are way too tight for him to move. His struggling unwillingly leaves his ass wide open to being penetrated by a staff attached to a pineapple being held by an Incubus who positions it towards his anus and charges towards Marmalade at an inhuman speed giving him enough force to thrust the pineapple end deep into Marmalade. The impact causes the Onoskeli to cower, but the incubi, succubi and their masters laugh at the screaming Marmalade as he starts bleeding through his rectum. Before Loaht returns to reality with a smile on his face.
2. Inu (Almost) Gets Repo'd
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Not knowing that Inuyasha had been two months behind on his payment, he is on the verge of having his new supercar repossessed by a familiar face.
"Hey!" Inuyasha shouted as he barged out of the spa with only a robe on his body and stormed towards a red 2019 Lamborghini Aventador where an African man wearing a black beanie and leather jacket is siting on the driver's seat. He bangs on the door and shouts, "What the hell are you doing?" the man rolls down the window and says "I'm repoing your shit you cheap mottafucka!"
"Wait a minute, did you just tell me you're repossessing my car?"
"You damn right, that's what I said."
"What the hell?"
"I have your court orders right here."
"This is some kind of mistake, I told Mr. Henderson that I was going to be late paying the car off!"
"I don't give a fuck if you told that to Governor Shitstain. Oh, I'm sorry I just remembered your father's name..."
"And that is..."
"CHEAP ASS MOTTASUCKA!"
Inuyasha rolls up the sleeves of his robe and cracks the knuckles of his right hand. "You know what, you need to something before I end up going to jail for murder," he tells someone through the phone connected to his headset. "What the hell are you doing? Who that on the phone with you?" the man was confused by the conversation Inuyasha's having through his wireless headset. "It's my fucking accountant, he was the one who was supposed to transfer the money so I can pay my car off!" He annoyingly responded to the repossessor.
"Hey Coffee, how much more do I still owe on my car?"
"You owe thirty thousand dollars."
"As a peace offering, how about I write a check for thirty thousand, a hundred and fifty dollars to cover the payments for my car and the processing fee and I can give you three thousand in cash to split between you and your partner?"
"Three thousand dollars for me and Tee?"
"Yeah, but you're going to end up with big scratch marks on your back if you take my car."
"Alright I'll call my boss at let him know what's due?"
"Okay, but don't take too long."
"Three thousand dollars for me and Tee." Coffee says as he dials the number of Bank Repo on his cell phone.
Mr. Henderson: Hello.
Coffee: Mr. Henderson
Mr. Henderson: What's happenin', Coffee? You repoin' motherfucking cars I hope.
Coffee: Definitely sir.
Mr. Henderson: Uh-huh.
Coffee: I'm repoing an Inuyasha's car right now and he wants to write a check for thirty thousand, one hundred and fifty dollars to pay off for the car and processing fee.
Mr. Henderson: Alright, well does the check look real?
Inuyasha: It has my family's official seal.
Coffee: You want to check the seal.
Mr. Henderson: Naw, I don't wanna check that fancy crap. Just take the mutt's check, but also tell him that if the check bounce so will his family.
Inuyasha finishes writing the check that's worth the value of the remaining balance on his car and opens the drivers side door. "Alright Coffee. Here's the check and the cash." Inuyasha hands Coffee the check and cash stack that is worth three thousand dollars "Now get outta here." Coffee gets out of Inuyasha's car and walks off before he closes the door and turns on the car alarm. "Hey Inu," one of the girls says to Inuyasha and she hugs the hanyou from behind "The owner would like to see you."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Coffee's insult "Governor Shitstain" is an insult towards California Senator Jerry Brown. |
3b8d7bc46ad8470cae6dcfc1d829b97c | ['65b8d500756542d4bcb66121fad5dcd6'] | As Millicent's best friend, Blaise had a standing invitation to stay at the Refuge, which he usually took them up on at least a half dozen times a year. The dark-haired man was dry-witted and amusing, and no one really minded that he completely overtook the second floor bathroom whenever he visited. Only Millie grumbled about his bad habits, but her complaints were largely ignored, since anyone with eyes could see the two of them were as close as siblings.
"Well, if everyone's alright," he said, giving the leaking group an odd look, "I'll just get myself settled inside."
******
A black cloud hung over the occupants of the kitchen the next morning, everyone eating almost mechanically as the sun crept over the horizon.
"It's not as if an animal hasn't died on you before," Blaise tactlessly pointed out, confusion laced through his voice. He was feeling a bit put out about the depressed funk that permeated the air around the Refuge, since the lodge was usually a place he went to cheer himself up.
Ginny had given up on trying to explain to him the differences between _letting_ an animal die, and having a creature die despite all you've done to help save it.
"He brought it on himself, didn't he?" Blaise went on, unheeding.
With deliberate calm, Ginny placed her fork next to her plate and folded her hands in her lap. "Blaise, shut up."
Getting a bit angry himself, Blaise snapped, "You didn't shove him in there, did you? Fuck, you're all just feeling sorry for yourselves."
"Blaise," Millicent growled a warning.
Lucy looked to be on the edge of tears, and Case said softly, "Someone's got to go feed her breakfast."
Silence rounded the table, each person in turn blinking down at their plates, Blaise glaring moodily out the kitchen window.
Finally, Ginny pushed back from the table and rose. "I'll do it."
"No, Gin," Neville protested. "I'll do it. I was the one who--"
"It's all right," Ginny cut in, giving him a small smile. It wasn't Neville's fault, and she didn't want him to think she blamed him for not helping Joshua. They'd all carry that burden of guilt together.
Her steps were slow as she lugged Rumbles' buckets of mush across the complex. Barkley mooed a greeting as she passed, but she didn't stop to fuss over the bovine. The ducks raced after her, quacking a happy morning song, but she ignored them, eyes fastened on the looming barn at the edge of the grounds, darkly foreboding, backlit by the low, orange morning sun.
The sight that awaited her inside Rumbles' pen nearly caused her to drop the buckets in shock. The dragon, eyes sleep-blurred, lay with her bony head stretched into the straw, a pink ball curled up against her jawbone. When she spotted Ginny, she lifted her head expectantly, blinking rapidly and giving a roaring yawn.
The pink ball snorted and rolled onto its feet. _Joshua_. The little bugger was still alive!
Ginny let out a half-hysterical laugh. Joshua was alive. It seemed as though Rumbles still didn't have a taste for raw flesh, and Ginny felt a well of relief so huge flood through her that it cancelled out any concern she held for the dragon's rehabilitation.
She practically flew back to the lodge and jumped Neville, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him soundly on the lips. She repeated the performance with Blaise and Case, but stopped short at Millicent when the brunette narrowed her eyes meaningfully and bared her teeth.
"What's going on?" Blaise asked, the first to recover his voice from shock.
"Joshua's _fine_ ," she crowed, doing an excited shuffle and hugging Blaise again.
"Joshua's... fine?" Neville asked, wide-eyed. "Fine... as in _alive_ and fine?"
Ginny nodded. "Alive and fine!"
"Well, that's just great, isn't it?" Blaise surveyed the now grinning group, wondering slightly about their sanity. It was just a Muggle _pig_ , after all.
"And Rumbles?" Millicent asked, the dragon her first and foremost concern.
"Still not partial to raw food," Case stated obviously.
"No, but at the moment, I don't really care. I say we get Joshua out of there before she _does_ get the right idea about him," Ginny said quickly. "He's survived the night for a reason, don't you think?"
Millicent grumbled, but everyone agreed that it would be best to try and free the pig and clear their guilty consciences.
Blaise just smiled and dropped back down into his chair at the kitchen table, shovelling a bit more bacon and eggs onto his plate. All the talk about Joshua was making him hungry.
******
Ginny stood next to Neville at the edge of Rumbles' pen, Millicent's words – _No magic unless it's absolutely necessary_ – echoing in her head. The Zoologist was unsure how any spell would react to the medication the dragon was on for her viral infection, so unless one of them was in danger of being mauled, they'd have to capture the pig by Muggle means. Again.
"I'll get him," Ginny said, stepping up to the fence. "I've had some practice."
Neville clutched his wand in his fist and eyed the dragon warily. "Are you sure?"
She nodded and started climbing the fence, throwing a leg over the top to straddle it. The wards around the pen were weak for the same reason that they couldn't throw incantations at Rumbles, and so they were only specified to keep the dragon inside the barn. Any other creature could freely come and go, which was how Joshua had squirmed into the pen in the first place.
Dropping down on the other side, Ginny rubbed her hands together and cautiously started forward. "Just keep an eye on her, Nev," she said, moving towards the pig that was nestled up to the bucket of treats they'd placed clear on the opposite end of the pen as Rumbles' food.
"Uh... Gin?" | 7455376004bf47348e05712a1b90e4de | ['65b8d500756542d4bcb66121fad5dcd6'] | Stiles quit his job without notice in a fit of unprofessionalism and panic when his asshole ex left, but he doesn't think he can function enough to go on a job interview at the moment, so his dad hires him to work odd hours at the station. It's nice, it's relatively easy, and Melissa, Kira, Scott and, weirdly enough, Cora and Derek all take turns watching Prin for him.
Stiles works every other night and a few hours on the weekends and all day Fridays, and it's Friday at five when Stiles gets to the front door and smells his asshole ex all over it.
A deep well of irrational fear and rage makes his heart feel like it's going to pound right out of his chest. It's only the thought that Derek is watching Prin that saves him from outright panic. Derek would probably murder anyone who even looked at Prin wrong. And it's not like he thinks anything will happen; asshole or not, he wasn't a _bad guy._ Just not a very good one.
Stiles takes a deep breath and opens the door as calmly as he can – he drops his bag and toes his shoes off, like everything is normal, and when he walks into the living room he almost laughs.
Derek has his arms crossed, looming intimidatingly over his asshole ex. Jeremy is sitting awkwardly on the couch in front of him with a baby fox in his lap; she's got her paws on his chest, her nose nearly to his. He looks like she's giving him cooties, he's got a weird expression on his face, and Stiles would be offended if he cared about what Jeremy thought about anything at all.
Stiles ignores him and swoops in and scoops Prin off his lap, and normally about this time she'd switch back to being human and vomit or pee on him, but she just gives him licks on his nose and yips.
Stiles arches an eyebrow at Derek, and Derek unravels enough to shrug.
“It's been about ten minutes,” he says, and Stiles rubs his cheek along her face and says, “Oh wow, that's awesome, Prinny love,” because that's the longest she's held it so far.
Jeremy clears his throat.
Stiles looks at him and says, “Yeah?”
“I—” he shakes his head and gets to his feet and says, “Our daughter is a fox.” He sounds kind of in awe, and yeah, okay, that's a slightly better reaction.
“She is,” Stiles says, and then Prin turns into a wriggly naked baby again and she grabs at Stiles mouth and says, “Ma ma ma ma ma ma ma buh buh,” and Stiles says, “Yes, baby, I know.”
Jeremy has soft eyes; he reaches out and runs a tentative palm over Prin's hair. Stiles knows she's hard to resist, so he doesn't stop him.
“She's amazing,” Jeremy says, and Stiles grins at him, because hell, yeah, she is.
She's amazing and terrible and she's going to ruin Stiles's life and then build it back up again, he's accepted that this is the way it's going to go.
“Can I hold her?” Jeremy says. He seems earnest and sad and a little like he doesn't think Stiles will let him; and that he wouldn't blame Stiles if that were the case. Jeremy was a terrible boyfriend, but he'd been there for him, kind of, and it had been enough for Stiles at the time – he'd known they weren't forever, you can't be forever with a dude who's never watched Star Wars, for one; Scott is the one and only exception to that rule and he's only allowed because Stiles has never had any desire to sleep with him, but—
“She needs a diaper,” Stiles says, “but yeah, of course.”
It's not until later, when Jeremy leaves for his hotel and Stiles is getting Prin ready for her bath – she loves the bath, she loves getting the entire bathroom soaked, including Stiles, she thinks it's the funniest thing ever – that Stiles realizes that Derek left without even saying goodbye.
*
Jeremy stays for two weeks.
He takes Prin to the park and buys her a ridiculous amount of toys and takes them both out for ice cream and he even watches her while Stiles is at work a couple of times, when Derek calls to say he can't, and, okay, that's never happened before.
Stiles is well aware that Derek has his own life and a job and pack that need him and that he's not going to be around them as much as he has been forever, but he'd kind of gotten used to him being there almost all the time anyway. His days feel strangely lonely, now, even when he isn't alone.
And Stiles isn't sure if he should track him down or not, if it's any of his business what has him so busy all of a sudden, so he just lets it be.
The night before Jeremy leaves, he squeezes Stiles's hand and says, “I'm sorry I was such an asshole,” and tries to kiss him.
Which, yeah, not going to happen.
Stiles flattens his hand over his chest and pushes him back. Jeremy's frown looks like a pout, like he's trying to be cute, and it's so annoying, Christ, Stiles had almost forgotten how annoying he could be. He says, “Oh no, dude. You can see Prin whenever you want, but that,” he gestures between them, “is not happening ever.”
Jeremy says, “But Stiles—”
“Uh, no. If you want to be a part of Prin's life I'm not going to stop you.” Jeremy is Prin's dad; it wouldn't be fair to either of them. “But that's it. Okay?” Jeremy is never going to be what Stiles wants. What Stiles wants is apparently a six foot broody werewolf who's currently avoiding him. Ugh.
Jeremy sighs and says, “Yeah, okay.”
* |
77301728e1994dc7af1ea30cbd5dd645 | ['65d5a0cde5374e45bc5344676c7bead8'] | He hoped Thancred would finish talking about whatever it was about Eden he wanted to share. Instead he stood up from his leaning position, moving closer, that gaze growing more piercing. The Warrior swallowed hard.
“You’re downright flushed, and your eyes…” Thancred’s pale brows drew down. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
Gods, this close it was worse. Somehow the Warrior could sense Thancred’s presence more than he could see him, a promise of touch, of contact, something he craved so badly. His body surged, and he gave a small gasp even as he nodded again.
He was just so hot. Thancred needed to back off.
Thancred frowned. “Don’t lie to me. What’s wrong with you?”
He moved closer, his scent and closeness invading the Warrior’s space, his dark eyes staring into the Warrior’s. The Warrior surged again, unable to control his thoughts, his wants, his _need. _
Thancred froze, his gaze flicking down and then up. “You’re…you’re hard,” Thancred said. “And clearly…horny.” He actually smirked. “Some girl get you riled up, and I interrupted things?”
“No,” the Warrior said.
“Was she going to meet you here?” Thancred said. He laughed. “Someone I know? Or maybe,” he tapped his chin, stepping closer, “You hired someone discreet?”
Damn him. He needed to stop getting so close.
“Don’t worry, my friend, I won’t tell anyone.” When Thancred moved closer, the Warrior let him, stepping forward too.
Ah, contact. He let out a shaky gasp, grabbing Thancred’s outstretched arm, Thancred’s reach to give him a friendly pat on the shoulder suddenly locked in the Warrior’s iron grip. The Warrior’s body throbbed, and he gasped, his face and neck flushed, his body on fire with need.
Thancred’s mouth opened slightly. He tried to pull his arm back, but his strength was nothing compared to the Warrior’s.
Gods, the Warrior wanted him, wanted anything, so badly. He pulled Thancred closer, the other man stumbling. So good, so hot. He put his other hand on Thancred’s chest, on the warm, taut musculature.
“My friend,” Thancred said carefully. “Please let me go.”
Let him go. He had to let him go. But he was so hard, his body screaming for contact, for release. His mind was hazy, fuzzed with the taste of the jam and the scent of warm, male hyur in front of him. His eyes bore into Thancred’s. The Warrior licked his lips, his breathing coming faster. He wanted to move his hand down, to touch Thancred’s hips, his…
“Please,” Thancred said, his voice wavering. “Let me go.”
The fear in his voice had the Warrior let go immediately, a dash of cold over the fire burning within. Thancred stepped back, rubbing his wrist where the Warrior’s vice-like grip had trapped it.
Gods. This was bad. “I’m sorry,” the Warrior stammered. “You…I’m sorry. Please go.”
“You like men, then?” Thancred said.
Why wasn’t he leaving?!
“I can go if you want me too, but…I get the sense I’ll never have the chance to see you in this state again. Your pupils are completely blown. Tell me. Were you fishing in Il Mheg?”
There was no point in hiding it now. The Warrior nodded.
“Then despite what just happened, I have to commend you on your restraint,” Thancred said. “When it happened to me, I…well, let’s say I gave the pixies quite the show.”
The Warrior’s mind filled with the image, and he gasped and choked off a moan.
“Your hand won’t ease it quickly,” Thancred said. “Is there someone I should…get for you?”
The Exarch. But no. Not like this, not with the risk… “No,” the Warrior gasped. He wanted to touch himself, to at least get out these confining clothes, and he pulled at the collar of his shirt again. “I can’t be with anyone.”
“No one?” Thancred said. “Not even me?”
The Warrior blinked in surprise. “You like women.”
“But I’m not opposed to pleasing men. I’ve done it before. And besides,” he said with another smirk. “I’ll be the one to bring the great Warrior of Darkness to his knees. The others will seethe with jealousy.”
“Don’t…” speaking was hard, the shirt so confining, his pants too tight. He needed something, anything. He wanted to say no, to make Thancred go away, but… “Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Relax, my friend.” Thancred stepped closer, both hands up. “I can help you, free of charge. And free of gossip. It makes me sad to hear you say you can’t be with anyone.”
The Warrior fought not to grab him, to throw him down. Instead he grabbed the desk behind him, backing up into it, grabbing it harder when he realized what Thancred was doing.
The white-haired man knelt down and slid the confining gathering pants off the Warrior’s hips. Cool air rushed over the Warrior, and he choked back a cry.
“You’re a big one,” Thancred said. Then he took him in his mouth.
The desk shook with the force that Warrior grabbed it with, the water pitcher falling onto the floor with a crash. The Warrior didn’t care.
Thancred’s mouth was so _good._ He pulled with his lips, moving his tongue, sending vicious heat spiraling through the Warrior’s body. The Warrior kept his grip on the desk, his hips rocking in Thancred’s mouth slowly. Thancred’s mouth was full of the Warrior’s cock, and he bobbed his head, each movement exquisite torture.
The Warrior surged and throbbed, but bit his lip. He had to be quiet. He choked back moans when Thancred sucked him hard, gasping and breathing harder when Thancred took him deeper down his throat. His eyes fluttered closed. Thancred was good. Not as good as Haurchefant had been, but…
He couldn’t think of Haurchefant. That pain cooled the fire even as it also made it better, memories of the Elezen’s mouth, his body, his touch…things he would never have again. A love he had lost. | 25a85ce80e2a4e6c8be4ae88ead2ec31 | ['65d5a0cde5374e45bc5344676c7bead8'] |
The Dangers of Fishing in Il Mheg
He should have known better.
_Never leave food unattended in Il Mheg. The pixies love practical jokes._
He had just wanted to get some fishing done and relax. He had brought some sandwiches from the Crystarium—nothing near as good as the ones the Exarch had made for him that night after Holminster, but a filling meal nonetheless. He had left them near his belongings while he fished, and hadn’t paid any attention to them while he struggled to fish up the sparkling clams that were needed in the Crystarium.
That was his first mistake.
The sounds of giggling had accompanied his first few bites, but it hadn’t occurred to him that he hadn’t originally put jam in the sandwiches until his tongue started going numb while he cast his line.
His heart thudded hard, and he nearly dropped his fishing rod into the swirling waters of the sparkling river. He had faced down gods, beasts and sin eaters alike, and would never balk in the face of danger. Deep down, though, the thought of poison still filled him with fear.
“Seems he’s feeling it,” tittered a high-pitched voice.
The Warrior whirled, but the pixie was merely a blip on the edge of his vision.
“It will feel good soon,” another voice laughed.
The Warrior growled in annoyance, but knew better than to demand answers from pixies. How dare they drug him? And what did they mean by feel…
Oh. _Oh._
He packed up his fishing pole, trying to ignore the growing need that made his touch clumsier than he would have liked.
“I knew he’d love playing with his rod,” a high pitched, yet unmistakably lewd voice said with a cackle. “Most mortals do.”
The Warrior swallowed hard. The sun overhead was suddenly far too hot, and the touch of his clothes sent prickles of electricity over his skin. He breathed out, then in, a familiar tightness making itself known.
It was past time to leave.
“No faaairr!” voices whined as he teleported away.
He would take care of this in his room at the pendants, alone.
And he would make those pixies pay. Later.
***
If the master of suites noticed anything amiss, he kept it to himself. The Warrior headed up the stairs, pulling slightly at where the folds of his gathering cloak felt tight around his neck. Beneath it his skin fizzed with sensation, an absence of touch that made him ache.
And oh, did he ache. He kept his focus on other things. He had to—his loose gathering pants wouldn’t hide it well if he didn’t.
Almost there. Then—
“Ah, my friend.” Thancred stood at his door. What was Thancred doing here?! Right now?!
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re not pleased I’m here,” Thancred said with a raised eyebrow. The white-haired hyur had always been a bit more perceptive than the Warrior liked. “I won’t take up too much of your time. I just wanted to talk about some of what Ryne’s discovered in Eden. Do you have a moment?”
The Warrior almost said no. But Thancred had said it would be quick, and Eden was interesting. The Exarch was also interested in what exploring Eden could do to improve life on the First, and seeing G'raha happy would be…
A surge nearly made him gasp. He couldn’t think about G'raha right now, about the Exarch’s shapely jaw and the robes that hid that muscular body, that russet tail that would curve around his…
Stop. He was the Warrior of Light. A pixie drug wouldn’t keep him from doing what he could for the First. He could ignore his body’s needs for a little while. He was used to that.
He nodded, and let Thancred inside.
That was his second mistake.
“Catch anything good?” Thancred asked once inside. He leaned against the wall by the closed door.
The Warrior set down the tackle box, shaking his head. He stood by the desk, waiting for Thancred to speak.
“It wouldn’t kill you to make a bit of small talk from time to time you know,” Thancred said with a roll of his eyes. “But anyway. Down to business. Eden has been dormant for some time, but Ryne noticed…”
The Warrior tried to pay attention. He really did. He stood by the desk, focusing on Thancred’s words, about Eden and the shifting sands, how color had begun to return to the landscape. But the meaning of the words fell away in favor of Thancred’s lips.
They looked so…soft. Soft and pink, and they would be so warm if—
The Warrior realized he was licking his own lips and stopped. He had to look somewhere else. Thancred’s eyes. His deep eyes, one brown one gray—
Gods, this was bad. And was it always this hot in this room?
“My friend, have you heard a word I’ve said?” Thancred snapped. “I’ve never seen you so distracted.”
The Warrior cleared his throat. “I’m fine,” he said, and wished his voice didn’t sound so husky.
“You look like you could use some water,” Thancred remarked. “Maybe you got a bit too much sun while fishing.”
The Warrior nodded. It was a good idea. Water would cool him down. There was always a pitcher near the desk, one of the many little perks the proprietors of the pendants made sure to provide for their guests. The Warrior took a swig without even filling a glass, hoping the water would quench the tight heat that threatened to overtake him.
Thancred had one eyebrow raised when he turned back. “Are you sure you’re doing alright?”
The Warrior nodded again. He both hated and craved the way Thancred was looking at him, that sharp-eyed gaze that was quickly rendering the effect of the water futile.
Damnit, this was Thancred. Thancred liked women. He had to focus so Thancred would leave, and then could take care of things himself |
a2c72b2972db4ee7a7014c45f94d28a5 | ['65dc863068994ae19d17da96d9fa7a14'] | I hop on the bus after him & rush to the back as fast as my stubby legs will carry me. Awkwardly bumping into people's seats, followed by their snickers & sneers. I plop down into a window seat in the very back, alone like always.
Now that I wasn't so focused on Kyle's staring I had time to feel just how much damage Craig had done. Yesterday I had painkillers to deal with the throbbing pain. Now I don't.
I use my phone's camera as a mirror. The bruises are still raw & tender, blackening my left eye, leaving finger shaped prints on what was showing of my neck, & even some light ones on parts of my hands.
"No wonder they were staring....I'm a wreck."
***
Ugh math. The subject I hate the most, besides gym of course. They're both a pain in the ass, but I guess if it's mental pain vs physical pain I'd go for the first.
I fidget in my seat, grumbling. I'm really starting to hurt, not to mention they're starting to swell.
"If this keeps up I'll be a blueberry by the end of the day..."
"Well you can go be a blueberry in the principal's office if you keep disrupting my class Mr.Cartman."
My shoulders hunch & my face flushes in embarrassment as my classmates begin to snicker.
"Sorry Ms. Tila... "
"Hmph"
'Stupid teachers always gotta get on my case'
I brood for the rest of the lesson. As soon as the bell rings I'm out the door. I'm practically running to my second class when I crash into something & hit the floor.
"Fucking bitch! What the he–"
I cut myself off as soon as I meet Craig's angry gaze. Gulping as I see his coffee covered, previously white, shirt.
"I m-mean....hi Craig."
"One reason why I shouldn't rearrange your face."
"I–um I-i didn't–I wasn't–I didn't s-see you."
My voice takes on a high pitched, squeaky quality while I think up an excuse.
"Shut. Up."
4. Chapter 4
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Authors Note: I feel like a complete asshole for being on hiatus for so long. I'll try to keep updates going, but no promises.
>
> Disclaimer: I do not own South Park
I lay in bed, face wet with tears. My body, fuck it hurts so bad. Why'd Craig have to hit so hard? Maybe had I not been a devil child, karma would've been more forgiving. I look back on my childhood memories in disgust.
All the times I fucked with Butters, or sat on my ass eating Cheesypoofs; I'd been such an arrogant asshole and now I'm reaping what I sow.
But... at least back then I had a fucking spine. Sure I was cold and often times unfeeling, but I still had a spine god damn it. Fuck, I had a life... I had friends. Am I really more pathetic now, than I was back then?
"Hehe yep" I scoff
There I go again, confirming my own insecurities. I'm a fucking crazy, mean spirited prick and everyone knows it, well knew it.
Now I'm just a crazy, self-loathing bitch.
I shudder in surprise when I hear three
loud knocks on the door.
"Poopsikins, dinners ready~"
"Not hungry mom!"
"O-oh... Ok honey, that's alright. "
She's hurt, dinner was the only real time we got together. But I don't care, I'm too fat for dinner. I don't deserve it.
With that thought in mind I fall into a deep, disturbed sleep.
***
I'm running through the forest, sweat dripping down my forehead. I'm being chased! I'm being fucking chased by something, no someone, and they're fucking catching up!
"Shit. Fuck. Shit! Leave me alone!" I cry out
I look back and see the glint of a knife, he's hooded, I can't see his face. But the knife, the knife I see.
God damn it move faster. Oh god I can practically feel his breath on my neck. No, it is on my neck!
Just like that I feel myself being snatched up and scream. He let's go of me just long enough to shove me into the snow and climb on top of my chest.
"You fuc–"
His hands, they're on my throat. He's strangling me; I can't breath. I grab his wrists, trying to pull him off to no avail.
I can feel my face reddening with lack of oxygen. I claw at him more desperately, heart pounding in my ears. But it's too late, I can feel my awareness slipping, my pulse slowing as darkness consumes me.
***
"Jesus fuck... Just a dream." I breath raggedly
7 am. I'll be late for skewl even if I rush, may as well ditch. I hate skewl anyways, hate seeing Kyle, Craig,.. everyone. They all make me feel so stupid, wait not feel, I AM stupid. End of story.
I got dressed and headed for Starks Pond. I wasn't exactly sure why I headed there. Clarity? Relief? Who knows.
I dusted some snow off a log and sat down. Normally this isn't necessary, but it snowed pretty hard last night. It wasn't comfortable, but it'd do, for now anyways.
I didn't find clarity or relief, but I knew how I could. I knew what'd bring me instant gratification, my secret weapon.
Reaching into my pocket I feel for the small, white container I knew would be there. It's contents would bring me just a moment of bittersweet bliss.
Just as I'm about to open it I hear a crunch, causing me to freeze up. Who the hell is here? No one's ever here this early. I shove the square container back into my pocket and turn around to be confronted with the giant that is Jewboy.
"Hey, Cartman, what're you doing out here? "
"None of your god damn business, could ask you the same thing. " I mumble, temper flaring | f8d000fadcbd41bf9f065f09de43c2b1 | ['65dc863068994ae19d17da96d9fa7a14'] | It's Not So Cut & Dry
**Author's Note:**
> I'm supposed to be working on my South Parl fic, but I'm sorta in between fandoms at the moment, so I'm writing this write now. This story will be pretty dark and I do not condone any of the actions performed in this. I do not own BNHA or any characters besides my OC (Mototeru). Please review, I'd like feedback as I'm not sure of anyone's actually interested in reading this.
Katsuki tossed and turned in his sleep, letting out faint whimpers as he did so. The 18 year old boy was once again trapped in a nightmare; one he'd tried to convince himself wasn't real, wasn't a memory. He broke out into a cold sweat, growling angrily in his sleep.
'A small blonde boy eagerly ran home from school. Earlier that morning he'd used his quirk for the first time and he just couldn't wait to show it off to his older brother, Mototeru. Mototeru was Katsuki's idol, the 4 year old wanted to be just like the powerful 10 year old.
The boy smiled wider as he saw his house up ahead, his brother was already on the porch waiting for him. Katsuki rushed forward, practically jumping onto his brother.
"I got my quirk! " he squealed, "Look, look!"
The spiky-haired blonde held his hand out to the brunette as he began to set off firecracker like explosions.
"That's so cool Katsuki! You'll be as strong as I am one day." Mototeru smiled as the little boy beamed up on him
"Y-you think so? " the blonde shouted
"I know so. " The brown-eyed brunette ruffled Katsuki's hair '
Katsuki's eyes angrily snapped open. He hated that dream, hated it just as bad as the others. His eyes stung with the threat of tears. That memory hurt, it always would.
With a huff he got out of bed, class would start 30 minutes from now. The angry boy quickly got dressed and headed out, briefly glancing at his phone as he walked to class.
As usually, with the exception of Eijiro's standard good morning text, there were no new messages. He deleted the message and shoved his phone in his pocket. He never replied to Eijiro's messages, the less interaction the better. At least that's what he told himself.
Despite being on time he arrived to 15 minutes later than usually, class wouldn't start for another 5 minutes. From across the room he heard a shout.
"You're usually the first one here, what took you so long?" It was Eijiro, nosy as usual
"None of your damn business." The blonde growled
Eijiro paid him no mind, he was used to Bakugou's attitude. The class quieted down when Mr. Aizawa walked in. Throughout the day the class did their usual hero training, only stopping briefly for lunch. By the time class ended everyone was thoroughly exhausted, but that didn't stop them from going to the mall. Well, everyone except him at least, he refused as usual.
Katsuki flopped onto his bed upon entering his room. He didn't bother turning any lights on, he was just going to shower while everyone else was gone and take a nap.
He was about to exit his room, shower supplies in hand, when his phone went off.
A text? He wondered
He reached into his pocket and read the message.
'You did good today, you're a lot stronger than you used to be.'
Who the hell is this? He thought
He didn't recognize the number, it couldn't of been any of his classmates, he had all their contacts listed. Something he'd barely agreed to. Another text interrupted his thoughts.
'I'll be seeing you soon.' |
84ddb157c12f4af1b12a899d0dc35741 | ['65e07ba03e4e45d7b529d31f5963ec57'] |
1. A brief history on Levi Ackerman's Sucky Existence
**Author's Note:**
> Some notes for reading this:
> •In this universe, you stop aging at 18 until you find your soulmate so you can grow old together.
> •If your soulmate dies, you stay the same age until they are reincarnated again and you find them.
The first time it was an accident.
The year was 1492, and a young French aspiring sailor had joined an explorer on his voyage to find a trade route to India. The seas had bashed their ship for many months, and when they finally reached land the sailor couldn't have been happier. It wasn't Asia as they thought, they had 'discovered' the Bahamas, but that didn't matter to the sailor. He was happy because once they reached this new land, he found himself with the most beautiful boy he had ever seen. His eyes were golden, brighter than the sun, his skin dark, his hair ever darker, everything about him warm and sweet like cocoa. This was his soul mate, he was certain of it, as a year or so later, when he had turned 18 and time had passed, he continued to age. This was the way of things in the world, your soulmate grew with you, the universe would not be cruel enough to force you to live a life without your one true love. The sailor had found him. And yes, the first time, it was an accident. Arrow to the heart in a small skirmish in town, the boy died before the sailor could say his goodbyes. Several months later, the sailor returned to Spain on the first ship out.
The second time was a sick coincidence.
The sailor was no longer a sailor, now he was a soldier. He fought for the British against the American Rebels, the redcoats versus the blue. He didn't particularly like either side, nearly 300 years of loneliness could do that to you. He didn't care who won or lost, it was just something to do. It was another face off, one side to another, when he once again found those eyes. The boy was paler this time, his hair several shades lighter and his body maybe more muscular, but that could've just been more years, as he seemed older this time than he had last. But his eyes were the same, they were always the same. The soldier was just about to call his name, put away his weapon and run to him, when a shot rang through the air, and once again pierced his soul mates heart. The soldier went AWOL after that, fleeing into the forest and waiting out the war until he could re enter a city and board the first ship back to Europe. He no longer wanted to live on this bloodied ground. America held promises of his soul mate, something he no longer wanted anything to do with.
The third time was a defensive maneuver.
It was the middle of the industrial revolution, and the soldier had become a factory owner, his pockets heavy with the fruit of his labored. He owned a successful printing business that made books and newspapers and spread general information at every chance it got. He was walking down the street one night, when a small frame darted out of the alley way before him and went for his pockets. Before the boy could reach them there was a knife in his gut, the factory owners hand on the hilt. He had plunged it deep into his heart, and then ripped it out. Blood poured out of the fatal wound, and in his last moments the figure looked up to the factory owner. Bright eyes, golden as the sun, blinked at him, as he fell back to the ground, until they quickly emptied. Levi dropped the knife and ran, knowing exactly what he had just done. The third reincarnation of his soul mate had been no more than eight or nine, and yet he was taken from this world already. For nearly 100 years, Levi holed himself up and only left his home when completely necessary.
The fourth time was no accident.
The factory owner had become a general, and a powerful one at that. World War Two was nearing its end, the American forces closing in on the last remaining Nazi groups and killing them off quickly. The general was working for the Americans, for once, for he had visited a concentration camp once and decided that in his many centuries, he had never experienced the horrors like that of the camp. He was conducting his troops, as they had just taken in a group of German soldiers, and were marching them through the streets of one of their recently recaptured cities to the war camp, where they would be held until trial, when one soldier just happened to look up. There were the eyes, still glimmering like a field of sunflowers even after having had their mind poisoned. He said nothing, but he knew he needed to save his soul mate from their deathly predicament. That night he found the soldier and whisked him away, but within a week he realized that saving him was fruitless. His mind had been spoiled, brainwashed by Nazi propaganda to believe that all Jews were to pay for their crimes, and unfortunately, the general had always been Jewish, regardless if he followed the traditions of not. It was hopeless. So one night, in order to release his soul and hope for better luck next time, he put a bullet through the boys head. He was no longer afraid of losing his soul mate. | 7806b5b244d147ac8ca4027c85516b16 | ['65e07ba03e4e45d7b529d31f5963ec57'] | **Notes for the Chapter:**
> Ooh boy here begins the downward slope
> Sorry for not posting for a while, I just really didn't have any time to write what with school. This is a bit of a short chapter, my apologies :/
“Armin, can we please not do this now?”
“Do what? I’m not doing anything.”
“Armin, there’s seriously something I need to talk to you about it, stop fooling around.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Eren sighed heavily and slumped against the kitchen island, rubbing his temple and squeezing the handle of his cup. He didn’t want to do this to Armin, he was cute and sweet and deserved so much more than what was coming, and he so badly wished he could just let Armin spread out on the couch, shirt and pants off, seducing him too quickly, but he knew that it would be wrong. He put the coffee down, mentally preparing himself, and then he moved in. Eren made his way to where Armin was sprawled on the couch and sat on the coffee table next to him.
“Armin.”
Sensing the seriousness of the conversation, Armin stopped trying to be cute.
“Yes, Eren?”
“Do you feel it?”
“Feel what?”
Eren sighed yet again, wishing that he didn’t have to be the harbinger of bad news. The last thing he wanted was to hurt his little blond friend, but he knew that if he didn’t get it out things would only be worse when he did let it out. He had been feeling this way for nearly a year.
Armin Arlert, his best friend who he loved very dearly in a multitude of ways, was not his soulmate. He never had been, and never would be, and while he so badly wished that Armin and he could continue to do this masquerade, he knew it would be endless, considering they would not grow any older until they found their actual soul mate. Armin was smart, he already knew what was going on, and so he didn’t hold back too much.
“Exactly, Armin.”
“Exactly?”
“There is nothing to feel. We are doing nothing but prolonging the inevitable. You are my best friend, and I hope that will never change, because I don’t think I could live without you, but I don’t want to hold either of us back from true happiness any longer. You did make me very happy Armin, and I hope I made you happy too, and I still love you, but you know we won’t get anywhere like this.”
“Eren, are you…”
“Yes, Armin. I can’t be your boyfriend anymore.”
Armin looked shocked for a minute, baby blues wide and surprised, before they closed entirely and he sighed heavily.
“I can’t say I didn’t expect this eventually, but… I was kind of hoping we could just you know. Keep living the lie. I guess that would be too much to ask of you, and I don’t want to hold you back. I didn’t think you would be so ruthless about it, though. Rather vicious of you, really.”
A little chuckle left Armin’s lips, and he slumped forward from his position on the couch. His bangs cast his face in shadows, hiding his still closed eyes, and Eren knew there were tears swimming behind those lids.
“So, I guess that’s it, right? We’re not boyfriends anymore?”
“No, Armin. I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok. I’m glad you did it, rather than making me do it eventually. I’m... I think I’m going to go to Annie’s house for a little while, ok? I’m not mad at you or anything, I just think a change of scenery might help a little bit, you know?”
“Yes, of course, do you want me to drive you over there?”
Eren didn’t think it would be a good idea to let Armin drive right now, but then again Annie wasn’t too far and Armin might just want to get away from him, to chill out a bit.
“No, that’s ok, I think I’m going to walk. I’ll text you when I get there, ok?”
“Yeah, sure...”
Armin made a bag and left quickly after that, popping his head into Eren’s room to let him know that he was going and then heading out the door, leaving Eren to ponder his thoughts.
He was now single, and possibly without a roommate for a bit of time, but he could cover rent for a bit on his own. He wouldn’t extract money from Armin if he wasn’t even staying here. That’s not what was important, though. What was important was the overwhelming feeling of emptiness that suddenly washed over him. He had given up his best friend, and for what? He didn’t even know who his soul mate was. He was certain now, that he should’ve waited until he knew for sure. How could he do this to his best friend?
A deep sinking feeling settled in Eren’s gut, as he knew that things were only going to get worse from here.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Yay! Everyone is sad now and Eren has been isolated! Perfect for plot development!
> I will try and post a longer chapter some time this weekend, to make up for my brief hiatus.
> Next up: Levi and Eren meet once again.
5. Fender Bender
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> In which Eren is not paying attention and ends up rear-ending a pretty hot business man.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I literally just posted a couple hours ago but I finished this so I thought I would post it.
> So here, have Levi and Eren's first official meeting, at least for Eren. |
2a5f45b12c9f41279a240722dea31e57 | ['660523b0d1c04b5db445a44590fd77a8'] | “I-I’m sorry, please excuse me….” Midoriya got up and left the room, he could feel everyone staring at him but he couldn’t sit in that room any longer. Him and Todoroki would have to marry one day, everyone would see it, everyone would find out he was faking it and then the King would find out, and he would defiantly get killed for shaming the royal family that’s not even a question. Midoriya couldn’t feel any of his strength; he sat on the floor outside of his bedroom door with his head between his legs. He started to cry, this was all now too much for him. He wanted to go home to his mom, to the little bakery. _The bakery…_
5. Chapter 5
During all this drama, he completely forgot why he was in this mess in the first place; he was trying to make the money to keep him and his mother going through the winter. He wanted to make the money to pay her rent for the next couple of months at least and he left that all behind for what?
“Midoriya are you alright?!” Midoriya lifted his tear stained face to see Todoroki walking towards him. Even from this distance he was beautiful.
“Yeah, was just too much and I needed to breathe, sorry.” He looked back down to his dress which was soaked with the tears he was just crying. Too many lies and Midoriya couldn’t keep them up anymore. They were killing him, he wanted his soul mate to love him for who he was, not this. Not what he currently was doing. All these lies would have to come out eventually; he might as well deal with the rejection now. So he can go home and help his mother like he should be doing.
Todoroki was kneeling on the floor beside him, wiping away the damp left on the freckled boys face.
“Don’t cry, my father is an ass but he has good intentions, I think. To be honest I wasn’t expecting it either this morning. But we will go at our own pace ok? I will happily wait a life time if that’s how long it will take.”
_I love him._ This was the only thing going through Izuku head, how much in this moment he loved this boy, and how much pain he was about to put him through. The thought made Izuku tear up again.
“Hey what’s wrong? Come on let’s go in here.” Todoroki held out both his hands to help her up off the floor. Izuku gets up and follows Todoroki into the room. This was going to hurt him a lot, but he couldn’t lie to his soul mate any longer. The truth was eating him up inside and it needed to come out. The couple sat on the bed, Todoroki gently hugging Izuku to try and make him feel better, when Izuku stood up.
“There is something I have to tell you, and you’re going to hate me for it. But I can’t hide it anymore.” Todoroki was taken back a little, this was rather sudden, but he loved this girl and was always here to listen to what she had to say.
“What is it? And I doubt I’ll hate you...”
Midoriya took a deep breath in; as he reached for the back of his dress he unfastened the buttons as the back, pulling it off from the front, taking off the wig with it. He was physically shaking in fear, unable to look in the direction of Todoroki at all. He let the dress and the wig fall to the floor,
“I’m… a guy.”
Todoroki looked at the male in complete awe. He had freckles all over his body; his toned stomach was enough to make him blush with unholy thoughts. He looked at the boys face; he was blushing, waiting for something. Todoroki found this situation rather funny; too funny in fact so funny he burst into fits of giggles which then turned into full blown laughter.
Midoriya was a little shocked at his reaction, was he laughing at him? He wanted the ground to swallow him up there and then. This situation was eating away, slowing killing Izuku inside and the man he loved was laughing at him. Todoroki stood up and walked towards the smaller male, Midoriya closed his eye tight not sure what to expect to happen next.
Midoriya then felt something soft against his lips, he opened his eyes a little to see Todoroki was kissing him. He was confused but wasn’t complaining. He leaned into it, accepting whatever was going on. The moment felt like it went on for ages when really it went on for 30 seconds; Todoroki had wrapped his hands around Izuku’s neck making the kiss even deeper. Then he broke the kiss,
“You pretended to be a female this whole time?” he looked right into Izuku’s eyes.
“Y-yeah, I was afraid to tell you in case you hated me or something… But this wasn’t the reaction I was expecting.” Midoriya was letting out all the truths now, no more hiding anything.
“You have no idea, how happy this has actually made me. Midoriya, I’m gay. And I’ve been worried this whole time that I wouldn’t be able to love you as much as I should, there was always something at the back of my mind telling me that I loved you so much but wished you where male. But now everything makes sense.” | 226212a696084d13b8aca79a961729ac | ['660523b0d1c04b5db445a44590fd77a8'] | Everything did make more sense now. Midoriya actually feels stupid for hiding this for so long, he should have just told Todoroki a long time ago and saved so much drama. He loved this man more than anything on this world and he wanted him to know that. Midoriya pulled Todoroki in for another kiss, this time a little more passionate. Todoroki wrapped his arms around Izuku’s waist pulling him as close as he could. Izuku ran his hands through the prince’s hair, and then moved his hands onto his face where he felt something rather rough.
Midoriya pulled out of the kiss to try and see what it was realising that his hand had gone under the veil that Todoroki insisted that he kept on around him. Todoroki grabbed hold of his hand and frowned a little, his eyes were now filled with sadness.
“I guess I should be truthful with you too then.” He took a step back, still holding on to Midoriya’s hand. “It’s not as big a secret as yours, I think, but still something I haven’t been truthful about…” He lets go of the males hand to unclip the veil hiding the left side of his face, he holds it there for a second, before finally moving it to show the scar hiding underneath.
Midoriya was taken back a bit; the scar covered most of the left side of his face and his eye. It was a darkish red colour and looked like it caused him a lot of pain.
“How…?” The only word Midoriya could say.
“When I was 5, a crazy servant girl poured boiling water over my face, because it reminded her of my father, who worked her to her insanity. I don’t blame her, I blame him.”
“Why do you hide it?” Midoriya was asking all the wrong questions, he knew but he couldn’t help it,
“I don’t normally, but my father wanted it hidden for the party, he sees it as unsightly. He didn’t want to ruin my chances with anyone with it. Then when I met you I didn’t want to scare you with it. It sounds stupid now I say it out loud.”
“It’s not stupid…” Midoriya looked the boy deadpan in the face, “You were scared I wouldn’t accept you, the same way I was scared you wouldn’t accept me. You’re not stupid.” Midoriya had a sweet but serious tone to his voice. He walked up to the taller boy and lightly kissed the scar he was so scared to show him.
“You’re still beautiful to me; it’s not unsightly at all.” Midoriya smiled brightly at the now blushing prince. If it was possible, Todoroki was now more in love with him then he ever was.
Midoriya and Todoroki spent the rest of the day in the gardens, for the first time Izuku didn’t have to wear a dress, it was oddly freeing. They talked about everything under the sun, but there was one thought still playing on his mind, his mother. He left his mother behind with little explanation on where he was, she might be worried sick about him, struggling with the bakery and he just left her to it.
“Midoriya?” Izuku felt a poke at his shoulder; he looked over to find Todoroki right in his face and jumped back a bit. _Too close._ “Are you alright? You looked really sad all of a sudden…” The thought of his mother must have shown on his face, he didn’t want to worry Todoroki about it.
“O-oh! Yeah I’m fine! Just… thinking about my mother that’s all… I left her when she needed me the most and now I’m worried.” Midoriya was looking down on the ground, but was swiftly reassured with the feeling of his prince’s arms around him. Todoroki’s hugs where always so warm.
“Let’s go talk to my mother.” Todoroki stood up holding his hand out for Midoriya to take,
“And how are you going to explain to the Queen that I’m male….” Midoriya just stared at him, fearing the answer he knew was coming.
“We’ll just tell her, she knows I’m gay anyway so it probably won’t bother her, if anything she’ll probably laugh too.” Todoroki smiled.
“Mhmm, and the king?” “Is away on business for the next few days, stop worrying over everything and let’s go find my mother.” Todoroki grabbed his hand and forced him off the chair that they were on.
~X~
Her majesty was sitting in a grand room; it had the same colour scheme as the drawing room that Midoriya was in. She was reading what looked like a book on flowers, some kind of gardening book perhaps, sipping tea from a small cup that she placed on the table beside her.
“Mother,” She looked up from her book to see her son walking through the big white doors, with his soul mate.
“Hello you two how was your day?” she smiled sweetly at them as they sat across from her.
“Pleasant without dad breathing down my neck, we spent most of it in the gardens just talking really, how about you?”
Midoriya was sitting in silence. Such a casual conversation, he was waiting for her to question who he was or maybe she just assumed he was a friend?
“So I see Midoriya finally ditched the dresses then. They must have been rather uncomfortable for you,” she handed Midoriya a cup of amazingly smelling tea while Midoriya just stared in awe. _Did she know this whole time……?_
“Thank you how did you-?”
“My Shoto used to play dress up in my dresses dear, I know what a boy in a dress looks like. Don’t worry I’m not angry, if anything I’m glad my Shoto is happy. Good luck telling his father however.” She sipped her tea while Todoroki was dying of embarrassment, surely that comment wasn’t called for. Midoriya just smirked at his lover.
“So… what colour-“
“Shut up.” |
3bb2b5475d304b6f97a121bd1793ebbe | ['660da03732bf4de18339228bc109e435'] | * * *
They make it to the military perimeter in about 17 minutes. The poison must be slowly clearing from his system if he is recovering the knack of tracking time. Without a Garg'kat nanny to shoot him another dose, his body should be able to completely get rid of it in about twenty-four hours. If he makes it that far.
He reaches for the flask in his jacket, hoping its contents will help, only to remember Ianto took it away to be mended. Without a word, Ianto digs into one of his own pockets and hands him the flask, eyes still fixed on the screen in front of him. There's a brush of fingers as he grabs it and takes a sip. Apparently nothing escapes Ianto. He likes the idea of some of the stuff he normally hides in his clothing now being stashed in Ianto's neat three-piece suit, but the look he gets when he hands the flask back makes it clear he shouldn't ask.
Jack brings the vehicle to a screeching halt just by what looks like the centre of all activity in the area; he nearly passes out. He opens his mouth, aiming for a snarky remark that may get through Jack's stubborn manner and remind him about the benefits of arriving in one piece, but the words catch in his throat – there is too much at stake right now.
He slides more than gets off the SUV, head still spinning more than is healthy when fighting Really Nasty Aliens. As usual, Ianto is already there before his feet hit the ground, hands casually stashed in his pockets – yet he's got no doubt he wouldn't fall hard if he lost his balance. Jack slams the front door and heads to the group of army personnel that seem to be running the show. When he comes back, followed by Gwen, he's frowning. Which, with Jack, is never a good sign.
"On the good news front, they finally swallowed their pride and talked to U.N.I.T." Opening the boot of the SUV, Jack starts rummaging through it. "They have some sort of device that can track these things." Interesting. "At least for a short period of time, while there is still residual energy from folding space-time."
"And the bad news?" Ianto runs a hand through his hair in what he's come to identify as a nervous gesture. Jack seems to freeze for a moment. Even though he can't see his face from where he's standing, he can picture the haunted look Jack always get when he's about to put people in danger.
"There's a lot of them in the pod. And a few of them outside." Gwen takes a sip of a plastic cup that probably contains coffee. Personally, he feels more inclined for a bottle of good scotch right now – end of the world and all that – but that will have to wait. "They have teams out there chasing the ones that made it out, and they are waiting for the really big guns to blow the whole thing up once it is completely in this dimension, but until then, we can't touch it." Gwen doesn't sound happy about it. He can't help but roll his eyes – under that hardened exterior, PC Cooper still hates being reminded that most aliens are not cuddly bunnies and most definitely do not come in peace. "Until then, there's only one thing we can do." He snorts. All eyes turn to him.
"What?" No. Oh, no, not again. "What?" The look in Jack's face leaves no room for misinterpretation. "You know as well as I do that the closer something is to actually being here, the harder it is to send it back." Jack stares at him. For a moment, he entertains the thought that maybe, just maybe, His Immortalness will be happy to let him die in there – that would, after all, take him out of the equation, and make things between Jack and Ianto a bit less complicated. But it is only a moment, until he remembers that Jack actually went into one of these things to get him out, when he could easily have left him there to die.
"Someone has to go in there, and send it back." Jack's voice is full of future regrets, like it has been ever since he first come back pursuing the Arcadian diamond. As if he were already blaming himself for people that hadn't been hurt yet. "We can't wait until it crosses."
"John's in no shape to do it." He turns towards Ianto, who's standing in front of Jack, eyebrows raised, cute look of determination in his face. He's about to retort when the kid opens that kissable mouth again. "Not on his own, anyway." No. This is madness. Ianto can't be suggesting... "I'll go with him."
"No!" Surprisingly – or not so much – he and Jack snap back at the same time. Even Gwen spins around, a look of pure disbelief in her face. "If anybody other than John is walking in there, it'll be me." Jack stares at Ianto, defying him to argue the point. He's got to give it to Jack, the protective streak suits him. | 5947b4efef3d4f52a4ea208ca1fdc4e5 | ['660da03732bf4de18339228bc109e435'] | "Are you sure you are using the right data?" John pulls a face, rolls his eyes and seems about to slap Jack when he checks his wriststrap again, his expression changes and he curses.
"Unbelievable." He raises an eyebrow. "The readings in here are completely different from the ones I was getting outside. That's why it isn't working, it is already fully on this dimension, it has been for a few hours already! How the Hell did that happen? These things are supposed to be accurate, for fuck's sake!" John closes his Vortex Manipulator again. "I suggest we get out of here, blow it up, and hope for the best." John's left arm is curled around his middle, as if to help himself stand up. When he takes it away, there's fresh blood on his t-shirt. He curses under his breath. John shouldn't be here. He taps his headset.
"Gwen?" A torrent of questions from the other end of the line. "Nothing we can do from here. We're coming out." A pause. "How long until we can...?" He leaves the question in the air, not sure whether the Garg'kats are listening. "We'll let you know as soon as we are at a safe distance."
Just as they head back for the corridor, Jack almost carrying John, the doorway seals itself before his very eyes. Behind him, both Jack and John swear. It's never good news when Jack does that. A moment later, something knocks him to the ground. The last thing he sees before his eyes close is Jack lying on the floor, one arm around John's shoulders, the other stretching out towards him. Then, everything goes black.
12. Eleventh Move
He comes around with the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. Everything around him is blurry, and something is tying him down so tightly he can barely breath. After blinking a couple of times, his eyes finally start to focus. Pain shoots through him when he tries to move as the wound on his side opens and blood trickles down. In front of him, Ianto is lying on the floor, bound by vines and still out. To his right, he can see Jack already in one of the nursing cubicles, ready to be hooked as a nursery.
Cursing, he pulls at his restraints, but to no avail – if anything, they get tighter. At least his arms are in front of him, and he's not tied to the wall. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he moves, much slower than he'd want to, until he is close enough to kick Ianto. Eye Candy is going to kill him for rumpling the suit, if they make it out of here. After a couple of not-so-careful nudges, Ianto opens his eyes and sits up, looking around.
"Where's Jack?" Well, that's one question he'd rather not answer. "You are bleeding." There it is again, the look of concern. He can't help but think that, if they survive this, he may actually get what he came for. He shuffles around a bit, so that Ianto can get to his boot.
"Can you reach the knife?" Ianto struggles to his knees and feels for the handle, fingers nimbly squeezing between the leather and the denim, and for a second he just forgets it all – the blood, the burning on his side, the feeling that he's about to collapse and never wake up again. It takes a good couple of minutes before Ianto manages to get hold of the knife. A bit more shuffling, and Ianto is standing in front of him, ragged breath hot on his collar as he starts cutting through the vines restraining him up. Well, that settles it: Ianto Jones just made the top of his "who to get stuck with at the end of the Universe" list: resilient, a fighter, and capable of turning him on even in the middle of a life-and-death situation. What else could he ask for?
"Gwen?" Ianto's voice brings him back to here and now. He can't help but wonder how Ianto managed to answer the call, although he has an inkling that the kid is good at doing things when his hands are otherwise engaged. "We are trapped, we need some time!" A pause, a frown forming on his face. "Do what you can." When Ianto looks at him again, it's obvious it is not good news. "We have five minutes to get out of here." Of course. The big guns have arrived, as always, too late to avoid their suicidal excursion, and too early to give them a decent chance to make it back to safety. By the Goddesses, how he hates fieldwork. Well, not really. Just when it goes bad.
It takes one minute, forty-three seconds for Ianto to cut through the vines that tie him. One minute, forty-three seconds of watching Jack slowly but surely being hooked up by the Garg'kat nursery. One minute, forty-three seconds of hearing the mumbled screams of pain that Jack can't really let out after the paralysing poison starts having effect. One minute, forty-three seconds of watching emotions play on Ianto's generally calm and self-controlled expression. One minute, forty-three seconds of wondering if they'll make it, if Jack will be okay, if Ianto will manage to keep a steady hand, and why he always ends up caring for those who seem to enjoy keeping their distance from him.
He stands up when the vines fall to the floor, letting go of him. Blood is still trickling from the wound on his side, making moving more painful than he expected. But there's no time for that. He takes out his gun and shoots at the vines on the floor before they have a chance to reattach themselves. Then shoots at the mass of tendrils on the wall behind Jack. It won't stop the process, but it will at least slow it down. Ianto hands him the knife, but he's got better plans. |
87fdfb41dc5b473c81deeba01229adbe | ['66117b5ef0164b86b1f76af3bcbea345'] | Morty’s head was now resting against the pillow Rick had been laying on less than a minute ago, and he couldn’t help but turn into it, picking up all of Rick’s scent. Alcohol, motor oil, sweat, and something sour like lemons clawed it’s way into him. He felt possessed - owned. He wanted his grandfather to feel it the same way he did, but Rick always had the upperhand, even now.
“P-p-please…?” Morty whimpered, a slave to the bittersweet bliss, the emotion he was too scared to name, and simply Rick.
With a speed only a teenager could accomplish, Morty was painfully hard again, flushed red from head to toes. Unaware, he chanted the man’s name _over and over and over_ like a prayer.
Rick smiled down at him, sickly sweet and filled with nothing but bad intentions. “You beURRPtter be ready, Morty. Make it- make it good for grandpa Rick.” He said, shoving Morty’s throbbing dick back into his loose channel as his grandson --his own flesh and blood-- began to re-harden.
Morty hissed, not sure whether or not to hump up into him or pull away. His heart was beating so fast, he thought he might die...but _what a way to go_. Maybe it was just the adrenaline, but he felt in that moment that he would die for Rick.
He wanted to tell him this. Tell this beautiful disaster of a man how he longed for him in the rare hours they were apart. How he was consumed by him - how every piece of him was so far gone now that he might as well have the name ‘Rick Sanchez’ tattooed in big, bold font across his forehead…
But there Rick was welcoming Morty into his body again, and words and thought alike were thrown out the window. Rick bounced on his cock, stroking himself in time, and if the boy hadn’t come just minutes before, he would have just from the sight of his hard cock driving into his mentor, his life partner, _his everything_. Morty sobbed, completely enveloped and overwhelmed. He wanted to tell Rick he loved him, that everything he’d ever done was in anticipation of him. If anything had become clear to him upon his few visits to the Citadel, it was that Ricks and Mortys belonged together. Through thick and thin, love and hate, pleasure and pain, as long as he had _his Rick_ …
Morty was relieved when Rick finally came with a barely intelligible -- “Fuck yes, goddamn Mmm-Morty, _yesyesyes_ \--”
Morty followed soon after, feeling accomplished and warm and sated, as he came for the second time that night. Most of Rick’s come landed on his chest and face, and Morty licked his lips, tasting his grandfather’s salty release on his skin.
Rick wiped off some of his own come from Morty’s nose, licking it off and sucking the appendage into his mouth in a lewd display that made Morty’s spent dick twitch, wringing every drop of come from his overstimulated body.
In the hazy afterglow, looking up at Rick he felt invincible, like the man was a powerful god, protecting and possessing, giving and taking -- _always taking_. He lifted his arms, wanting to pull this celestial being back down to earth with him, tether him so he could never leave him behind, though he knew he already fell behind in so many ways.
Rick slapped his hands away. “Don't fucking touch me. I-i-i it’s too goddamn URRP- too hot for your clingy ass to be hanging all over me, _Morty_.” The man rolled off him, shoving him into the wall to make room on the tiny cot. His sweaty skin stuck to a diagram of some strange contraption Rick had tacked to the wall, but the bed was still small enough that their arms pressed together.
Morty flinched when a pointy elbow dug into his side as Rick leaned over the side of the bed, pulling a nondescript bottle of alien liquor out from underneath and taking a long swig, some dribbling out onto his lower lip. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand, followed by a drawn out burp.
“You’ve got an hour to get it together, a-and then I need you in the ship.” Rick sat up, breaking all contact, not looking at his grandson. “We don’t have all day to- to be laying around, Morty. I have important science to do.” He said as he stood, quickly redressing himself like he’d done a thousand times before.
Morty squinted against the light that flooded the small room as his surly grandfather left. The smell of dinner cooking wafted in before the door was shut again, leaving him alone in the dark.
**Author's Note:**
> I have a Rick and Morty sideblog -- url schwiftyszechuan if anyone is interested go check it out! I hope to eventually post some fanart I'm currently working on :) | 5a4627142c92477abecdd8c1220b51f3 | ['66117b5ef0164b86b1f76af3bcbea345'] |
rickmorty garbage
**Author's Note:**
> I basically just wanted to write a thing where Rick lets Morty top him for once and then spends the whole time making fun of him. Hope some of y'all sinners get a kick out of it~
Morty panted, wiping sweat from his brow, some dripping onto Rick’s chest where he was arched over him.
“Damn, M-Morty. This is- is pretty pathetic even for you.” Rick grinned mockingly down at him, blue-grey hair splayed across a flat, dingy pillow, more wild even than it usually was. “Not even- already about to blOUGHw your load and you’re not even inside yet.”
Morty groaned, rutting himself between the old man’s asscheeks, slick with lube.
Rick snickered. “That excited to f-fuck your grandpa, you- you sick freak?” he reached down and Morty shuddered as Rick wrapped a large hand around the base of his dick, lining it up with his own hole. “Go nuts, babe.”
Morty didn’t need further prompting, thrusting all the way in with little resistance. Rick was loose and open even without much prep from years of smuggling all manner of contraband, but he was _hot_ and velvety, and it felt like he was melting.
Morty paused, balls pressed flush against his grandfather’s ass. Did it feel this good when Rick was inside him? Biting hard at the inside of his cheek was the only reason he kept from coming at the thought. That and the fact that Rick would never let him live it down.
Morty leaned down, licking up Rick’s chest to distract himself from how close he was already. He sucked lazily at a nipple, slack-jawed from the pleasure and the heat, leaving a sloppy trail of saliva as he went.
Rick ran fingers through Morty’s sweat-damp curls, pushing them off his forehead in a surprisingly tender gesture, grounding the boy and making his heart feel full. Morty pressed his cheek to Rick’s chest and wrapped his arms around him. The genius sighed, but arched his back to comply, joints popping.
They laid like that for a few minutes, Rick raking his nails soothingly on his grandson’s scalp and using his other hand to massage his neck. Morty was putty, and he thought he wouldn’t mind just falling asleep like this if it weren’t for his unattended libido and Rick nudging him in the hip with his heel impatiently. Morty sighed heavily when Rick pulled his hands away. Unwrapping his arms from the man’s waist, he sat back up, hands braced on either side of him.
“O-o-okay, Rick. I’m gonna do it.”
“Are you _reeaally_ , Morty. ‘Cause so faARGr all you- you’ve done is drool all over me and- ”
Morty pulled half out and thrust back in as hard as his little hips could manage, face screwed up in determination and arousal. “Sh-shut up, Rick.” He was proud he’d silenced the smug genius for once in his life, and he rode on the high, pistoning himself into the old man with all the force and speed he could muster. The gentle atmosphere from just moments ago completely evaporated.
“F-fuck yeah, baby. There we go. That’s my boy.” Rick’s voice stagnated as Morty fucked feverishly into him, and his flagging erection started to fill out again.
Morty’s cock slipped out of his hole a couple times as a result of his frenzied pace, but he quickly lined back up and kept going like a jackrabbit in mating season.
“Yeeaahh, you like that, don’t you? Y-y-you like having your dick up your old man’s ass, do ya?”
“I-I-I-I-I I like it.” Morty moaned, voice cracking and high pitched with puberty and ecstasy. “I l-like it a lot, Ri-i-i-i-i-ick!” Morty came as he shouted the genius’ names in a warbled tone. It overcame him so sudden and hard he gasped in surprise, followed by a loud, shaky moan as he rode out his orgasm. Rick was grateful for the soundproofing he’d done on his and Morty’s rooms, in addition to the garage. Morty was such a desperate slut, no matter how dire the situation; the kid had no sense of control once he was in the throes of passion.
The human part of him that had been raised into planetary sensibilities felt momentarily guilty about what they were doing, but a more primal part of him had known from the second he’d had the first taste of _his_ Morty on his tongue he would never get enough. It was fucked -- _beyond fucked_ \-- but the weight of the magnetic pull between them was too much to withstand. If Rick were a lesser man he might think it were fate...
Morty made an attempt to pull out, but Rick crossed his ankles behind him, dragging the teen back in and squeezing his lower muscles until Morty was squirming with overstimulation.
“N-n-n-n no, Rick please!” Morty cried, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes. “I-i it’s too much!”
“NuURGHh huh, Morty. I don’t think so.” Rick used his leverage to flip them over, Morty’s dick slipped out of him in the process, but he ground down, taking the opportunity to circle his hips expertly against him. “You’re not done until I am.”
Morty glanced down to where Rick was grinding on him, seeing that Rick was not even fully erect. Morty moaned in pleasurable agony. This was pure torture and complete heaven.
“C-c’mon, baby. You’re young; you can handle it.” Rick encouraged him, stroking himself to full hardness with one hand, and sliding the other up Morty’s ribs, touching on every sensitive place on his chest and making him thrust up against Rick involuntarily. |
07b2200d436c40cfa3118d58a3ad6de2 | ['6665bc00fd7f42898952a557e584e1f8'] | Well, the second one wasn't completely off.
The rest, however, was not like the movies in the slightest.
There was music to memorize, sets to learn, a horn to carry, and early practices.
Jesus the practices, Michael fucking hated waking up at 7 am every Saturday, he hated hearing the director sarcastically repeat the shows' title back to them.
"Are you awake?" The director would say into his mic as the rest of the band collectively groaned and others shouted "No!" as loudly as they could.
Miraculously, aside from the exercise and staff constantly yelling at him for cussing on the field every time he messed up, Michael some what enjoyed himself.
He spent lunches and breaks with Ray, Geoff, Griffon, Ryan who was another member of pit that Ray introduced him to, and Jack a baritone that Griffon has introduced him to.
It was nice, they spent all of their time making fun of each other and doing stupid dares.
Sometimes Michael would talk with other people, the sandy haired trombone who was named Kerry, the red haired trombone named Lindsay, as various others. He enjoyed the company of most people in the band, but there were still a few that he made a point not to interact with.
That person was a blond hair, british prick. Although Michael tried his best to ignore the "trumpet boy" it was fairly difficult, the band was small and the boy was every where so whether he wanted to or not he quite frequently noticed the boy.
He noticed that the boy was very social and that he felt the need to either hug, or high-five everyone he interacted with.
There was a few occasions where he would try to get a hug or high-five from Michael, which would just end in Michael brushing him off or literally running away.
There was a time where the boy cornered Michael and he had to duck out around some pit equipment when Ray refused to help him.
Despite the various encounters with the boy it wasn't until Ray started talking about him that Michael learned his name.
"He's British Michael and he makes the stupidest fucking jokes" Ray told him during one of the breaks
"He's a complete idiot, he chose grass for his starter to, who does that?". Ray wasn't trashing or insulting the boy, he was talking about him like he was a friend.
"mhmm" Michael murrmered half listening to Ray "What's his name again?" He questioned looking up from his phone
"Gavin." Ray stated sounding slightly satisfied the Michael was actually asking about the boy.
Looking back on it maybe showing any interest in Gavin was Michael's first mistake.
It was one of those practices that ran into the evening and despite the high temperatures earlier Michael was now freezing his ass off.
Most people were smart enough to bring hoodies others, like all of michael's friends, were not and had to borrow extras.
Because Michael had a small group of (irresponsible) friends, he had no one to borrow a hoodie from.
"Ray I'm fucking freezing" Michael bickered rubbing his hands over his bare arms. "Why don't you borrow Gavin's" Ray suggested
. Michael could feel heat rising to his face and attempted to mentally push it down, regardless of the circumstances the thought was embarrassing.
"Yeah,I'll pass" Michael replied pushing himself up and walking back to his set.
Michael hadn't realized that the practice was almost over until the director announced the final run, in which they do all the sets they've learned so far.
It went fantastically and managed to put everyone, including Michael, into a good mood.
Michael walked back to the band room with Ray and Jack and noticed Gavin running in as he was putting his things away.
Gavin ran through hugging and high-fiving people.
He ran up to Michael "C'mon Michael just one hug!" He pleaded.
Michael decided to humor the boy "All right sure, why the fuck not" Gavin wrapped his arms around Michael, waiting a second before lifting him up.
Michael then started to flail his legs and attempted to push himself away from Gavin. "Gavin what the fuck put me down!" He shouted, a hint of laughter in his voice.
Gavin laughed, first parading around the band room before putting Michael down and then running around dancing.
"Yes! Yes!" Gavin shouted. "I've been waiting months for that!" Michael laughed in spite of himself and walked up to Gavin.
"Never do that again" Michael told him and Gavin beamed at him.
"Oh no, now that you've let me I'm going to do it loads"
Michael laughed, " _God damn he's an idiot._ "
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> The last bit that Gavin said is actually something someone said to me that's a thing that actually happened
3. Band Camp
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Woah this is still a thing
From the second Michael joined marching band he had been hearing tales of band camp, from the happy camp fire times to the malicious seniors torturing poor rookies.
He never thought about it all that much, but once band camp was a week away and the band was buzzing with a feeling of excitement and dread, it was hard to ignore.
Michael recalled the first day of spring visuals, while waiting for the band director to finish sorting some things out the seniors told stories of previous band camps.
A rookie asked the question "Do we pick our seniors?" and the three seniors responded in unison, as if rehearsed "Seniors pick you!" they shouted punctuating each word.
It's an unspoken marching band rule that rookies don't find out who their seniors are until the first night of band camp.
They're not allowed hints, they can't try to bribe others, it is top secret, but they could guess as much as they wanted. | 539274343ce6438194a1d33dacb40eb7 | ['6665bc00fd7f42898952a557e584e1f8'] | The Final Countdown
Michael Jones had always found the idea of soulmates kind of dumb.
He found the fact that he had to wait until today, at the age of 24, out right stupid.
He glanced at the numbers on his wrist, they had been on there since the second he was born.
He remembers glancing at the wrists of others in highschool, always feeling a slight ping of jealousy when he saw someone's who said zero, usually right next to someone else's wrist that said zero.
Usually the hands attached to those wrist were intertwined.
He hated it.
The numbers on his wrist currently read "05:13:46" Roughly 5 hours left.
He mentally ran over his introduction again "Hi, I'm Michael Jones, I'm 24, and we're soulmates" He's gonna fuck this up, he knows it.
He looked around his apartment for something to distract him.
Nothing good on T.V, played all the games, and he had already anxiously cleaned his apartment 3 times that day.
He looked at his outfit, running a hand through his curly hair. He had on white sneakers, blue jeans, and a black Call Of Duty shirt.
He thought about dressing up for meeting his soulmate but decided against it, they're gonna be spending the rest of their lives together might as well meet each other as is right?
He grabbed his phone off the coffee table dialing Ray.
It rang for a minute before he heard Ray's voice "If this is about how great the sex is mine is better." Ray said.
Ray had met his soulmate at 19 during the one year he attended college. It was a guy named Joel, nice guy, funny to, he was a good fit for Ray.
"I won't know for at least another 5 _hours_ " Michael responded casually despite internally freaking out.
He could hear shooting in the backround and assumed Ray, being Ray, was playing a game.
"Right, so if you didn't call to brag what's up" Michael shifted some things around looking for his keys.
"Wanna go to a bar or something?" Michael asked.
Ray snickered "At 6 o'clock, I know you're probably nervous but damn Michael" Shit was it really only 6, he hadn't looked at the time
. "I said or something" Michael replied attempting to play it off.
"How bout a movie?" Ray prompted.
"Great" Michael responded "Just pick whatever, I'll meet you there in 10" He hung up the phone.
Finally finding his keys he grabbed them, his wallet, and his hoodie and walked out.
Ray picked the new Disney movie 'Frozen' which Michael thought was ridiculous, but was thankful for the distraction none the less.
It wasn't half bad, the kind of thing you'd watch again if it popped up on the T.V. When they got out he glanced first at his watch, then at his wrist. 8:23, 3 hours.
Michael and Ray went to a nearby bar.
Ray left about an hour later, he got bored pretty quickly since he wasn't one for people and didn't drink.
So Michael spent the 2 hours sitting alone at the bar looking at his wrist and taking nervous sips of his beer and listening to unnecessarily loud music.
He glanced around the bar, looking a second longer at the couples in it. He wondered if his soulmate would be some mindless drunk, or the next bartender, or some college kid trying to look cool by sneaking his way into a bar.
Never in Michael's life has two hours passed so slowly, but once his wrist finally said one minute he could swear time had never moved faster.
He stood up.
_50 seconds._
He walked towards the center of the bar.
_40 seconds._
He wondered what they looked like.
_30 seconds._
He wondered what their name was.
_20_ _seconds._
He'd find out soon enough wouldn't he.
_10 seconds._
He stood there, in the center of the bar, looking half like he was lost and half like he was about to bolt for the nearest exit.
The latter was fairly likely at the moment.
_5 seconds._
He felt a tap on his shoulder.
_4_.
Please don't let him make a fool of himself.
_3._
God he was nervous.
_2._
Don't let this be a joke.
_1._
Here goes nothing.
_0._
Brown meets hazel and neither of them blink, they just stare, taking the other in.
The guy is tall, lanky, scrawny sort of, but he's attractive.
He's got sandy hair that sticks up at odd angles and looks ridiculous, but it suits him, matches his goofy grin.
Michael took a good look at him, from head to toe.
' _So this is what a soulmate looks like'_
He inwardly shook his head
' _No, this is what MY soulmate looks like.'_
"Hello love" The man chirped.
" _Dear god he's_ _British.'_
Michael thought as he leaned foward, wrapping his arms around the mans' neck.
He kissed the man, which wasn't at all what he planned, but he didn't care.
"Talk about coming on strong" The man said afterwards.
Michael could get used to this.
Maybe soulmates weren't so dumb after all.
**Author's Note:**
> Woo ay yo insert Tumblr thegrandhighbird.tumblr.com |
7e77d940ea484ab89736dd41402bff3b | ['66723d6a6555414aa177bbdd6dcfcb02'] |
I Do That To You Too
**Author's Note:**
> Original AN: "My first Sterek piece! Since I ran out of any Harry Potter fanfics of literally any pairing, Sterek has replaced Drarry for the time being. I wanted to see Derek not be quite so angsty, yet not have a completely different personality. And Stiles is of age, so none of that whole 'but you're sooo young and I'm sooo old' business. Let's see how it turns out! :)"
"Take it back, stupid head wolf man!"
"Nope."
_Remote control flies through air and explodes against face._
Silence.
Stiles crouches back down on the couch and stares at Derek, who's standing behind it now. And the _look_ on his ridiculously handsome face is… well it's not good for Stiles.
Except, then the wolf smiles widely, but it's an evil grin of revenge, Stiles just knows. After a few years with the guy, he had learned almost everything about Derek, once he got past the whole "I shall never be happy again!" thing.
But Stiles was still a human, and even though they were best friends now, didn't mean the wolf wouldn't chew his arm off or anything!
When he opened his mouth, Derek suddenly lunged at him and pulled him over the back of the couch. _Pulled him_ , like a child, by the armpits. Never mind that Stiles was a grown man and over six feet tall.
He dangled in the air for a moment before Derek threw him into the nearest wall. It didn't hurt, but Stiles still groaned out loud because he realized what he'd gotten himself into. A wrestling war: werewolf versus human. And it happened, like, _all_ the time. Stiles' mouth simply could not hold back the sass.
Hold on, though. The whole thing started because Derek was being a butt face and purposely antagonized him. So they would just have to punch it out until the wolf man apologized, like a good furry best friend.
Stiles straightened only to throw himself at the Alpha. He managed to push him into the couch, where they bounced off and hit the floor. And it wasn't carpet. _Ouch_.
"Just take back what you said and all shall be forgiven, dude." Stiles had his hand on Derek's face, pushing it into the hardwood floor.
But then the wolf flipped them over and laughed. "Nope. I meant every word, so why should I act like I didn't mean it? Hm?"
"Ugh! You are _so_ uninvited to my birthday party now."
"Maybe I don't want to go to your stupid superhero themed party anyway," he said while twisting Stiles' arm behind his back.
He gasped, but not from the slight ache in his shoulder. "You don't like going to my birthday parties? Oh my God, Derek, that is crazy rude! And probably not even true… is it?" He tried to look back at the man now sitting on him, using his full weight to crush his lungs.
Derek snorted and let go of his arm to flick the human's nose. "Dunno. You'll never find out either way."
With his arm now free, Stiles pushed himself up enough to elbow Derek wherever he could reach.
A groan. Aha! He jabbed him in the throat. And with that, he flipped onto his back, with Derek sitting on his legs, rubbing his now sore neck.
But Stiles still couldn't feel satisfied that Derek had learned any sort of lesson from this. So he asked again, "Do you really not want to come to my party?"
When Derek just growled and started to get up, Stiles hurriedly started to ramble. "Because, you know, it's okay… I guess. I mean, you've been to enough of my birthday parties, I suppose. A few years is good enough. Whatever. But, like, do you just not want to go because I'll be there or because you hate Marvel comic book heroes? Well, it can't be because of me, since you've been just fine with this handsome mug of mine for the past few years. We're… we're besties, aren't we?"
"Stiles, what did I tell you about calling me that?" he said with a sigh. Then when he looked down at Stiles, he seemed to get some sort of vibe from him because he turned into "Derek the Comforter". He took Stiles' wrist and rubbed it with his thumb, then… then with his _nose_. Derek was _nuzzling_ his wrist. _Good Lord_.
"W-What?" was all he could manage to say.
With his perfect smirk, Derek kept his wolfy eyes on Stiles while he continued to nuzzle his way up his arm. When he nipped at the inside of his elbow, and Stiles squeaked involuntarily, Derek said, "If anything, we're _beasties_."
It took a moment for Stiles to realize that the wolf man was actually making jokes. At a time like this? He was wondering what the hell was going on!
"Oh my G- Derek! Beasties? I don't even… you are such a freak, dude. Seriously. And I'm not even including the bit about you being all werewolf-y and crap."
But Derek was practically giggling as he playfully bit at Stiles' fingers. He didn't want to ruin their bizarre bonding moment, not when Mister Grumps is being extra puppy-like and so totally adorable. How did their wrestling match turn into… _this_?
Stiles didn't know what was weirder: the fact that the Alpha wolf man was being flirty or that he didn't seem to mind it one bit. They had never done any sort of flirting as long as they had known each other. At least, Stiles wasn't aware that any funny business was ever happening. | abbb7e5efb9b4ed9a1adb0f57a9581cb | ['66723d6a6555414aa177bbdd6dcfcb02'] | “Wow! Really? That does sound nice. Not sure if it’s my shampoo or something… I’ll look into it.”
Yoongi huffed and told him with a small grin, “It doesn’t have to be something you’re using in the shower. Everyone has, like, an underlying smell to them? Yeah, perfume and stuff messes with that, but you still have your original scent, you know?”
“What’s your ‘original scent’ smell like then?”
His human ears turned red, while his cat ears flicked about. Yoongi shyly looked up at Hoseok. “You can’t smell m-me?”
Leaning closer, he tried to sniff at Yoongi, hoping to catch _something_. He wanted to be more specific than “soap”, which was probably just from what he used in the shower. His dumb human nose couldn’t pick up anything underneath that though.
The corners of his lips turned down as he told Yoongi, “Sorry. I only smell soap. Like, you just always smell clean to me. I wish I could be all like, ‘Oh yeah, you’re underlying scent is an earthy sandalwood mixed with petrichor’. But no, I can only smell your soap. I’m sure your real scent is, like, totally nice though!”
Yoongi’s ears perked up from his wild hair after they stopped laughing. He gave Hoseok a funny smile, cheeks pink of course, and leaned forward. His neck was stretched to the side, exposing it to Hoseok.
“Go ahead. Try to find it.”
Something about the whole thing seemed _different_. It was… intimate, being so close like that. But he was drawn to the very lightly tanned skin anyway.
Hoseok hesitantly nosed at Yoongi’s jawline. After taking in a deep breath, he still only smelled soap. Really strong, really nice soap. But Yoongi made it sound like that wasn’t his “original scent”.
He pressed a little into the skin, hoping even his dumb human nose would pick up on something while so incredibly close.
Yoongi was practically vibrating in his seat. He could feel the tiny tremors since his chest was almost pressed entirely against Yoongi’s arm.
Again, _something_ was off. The vibe in the room was different. The vibe between _them_ was nothing he had felt before.
Hoseok was ready to give up on the strange game they started when he reached Yoongi’s collarbone. It must have been ticklish, because he suddenly had a giggling Yoongi on his lap.
“My turn.”
And he felt fuzzy ears twitching over his jaw. Yoongi was running his nose up and down the length of Hoseok’s neck.
He leaned his head to one side, imitating what Yoongi had just done before for him.
His brain told him it would be a good idea to pat the fluffy hair in his face.
Yoongi was shivering still, but also humming? Purring? Had he made him purr?
He didn’t have to be a hybrid expert to know that was a good thing. Purring was good. A little strange, but good strange.
Too good. For both of them.
Hoseok felt like his face is on fire as Yoongi began rubbing up against him. His whole body was just… rubbing on his body. Sort of like what he saw him do to his door, except… not really like that. What was happening was definitely _more_. An intense scent marking.
Never having experienced that sort of _thing_ before, Hoseok just stayed silent and unmoving. He was almost scared to touch Yoongi in any way. It all was too much. He felt too much happening all at once. His brain was as confused as his body. Yoongi felt good but… it was too soon or something.
He started listen closer to what Yoongi was moaning against his neck. Clearly, he was over the sniffing part and had moved onto licking. _Licking_. Jesus.
“…so good, you’re so good to me, Hoseokkie. You’re _perfect_. I can’t even- oh my god, look at you. You’re strong and so wonderful. Warm. You-You’re like the sun. Everything about you, _wow_ , just everything…” Yoongi trailed off after finishing kissing his adam’s apple. His head was tucked against Hoseok’s chest as he begged him to pet his head.
Hoseok finally gathered a few working brain cells together and tried to pull Yoongi’s head away. He just rubbed his cheeks against Hoseok’s palms and purred even louder.
He cleared his throat. “Um. So… does this mean you… like me?”
Yoongi pulled his face away from his palms and stared at Hoseok until his eyes cleared a bit. “What do you mean, do I like you? Of course, I l-” then he blushed harder than ever and jumped away from Hoseok like he was on fire. “Are you serious? Is this a joke to you? I’m- Oh my god, this is so…”
Hoseok practically yelled, “No! I really just don’t understand where this all came from. I mean, Jungkook said the door scenting thing meant you liked me, but I wasn’t sure? Because you’ve never really shown interest in me, in _that_ way… right?”
He watched helplessly as the fluffy cat ears flattened and the tail curled protectively around his body. Yoongi was very upset.
“What do you mean?? You’ve been courting me this whole time, haven’t you?” Hoseok remained confused but quiet. Yoongi’s eyes turn red and his pouty lips began to quiver. _Dear lord_ , Hoseok was making him _cry_.
Finally he opened his mouth to try and fix whatever was going wrong. “Yoongi, I don’t know what you mean by ‘courting’… I wasn’t aware that we were in a relationship.” He hurried to correct whatever he was trying to tell Yoongi when he heard sniffles. “No! I mean, we weren’t… dating, right?”
Yoongi made a pitiful yowling noise as he ran into the bathroom and locked the door.
Hoseok was pretty sure he deserved it.
__________ |
4f8dbf0382ac4c268921b595a4e01cc7 | ['667277e962f249c7aa781447a485807c'] | A Necessary Sacrifice
**Author's Note:**
> the idea came to mind and i thought it was cute. i dont actually ship them in game but this idea's cute. i love maki harukawa and i hope she has a great day.
"..."
"..."
"..."
"My name is Maki Harukawa. I would like to join Danganronpa. I've never been a very big fan but… I know that this fucked up show makes money. That the participants and their loved ones get fortunes. I… My orphanage, Brave Heart Orphanage, needs that money. It's small, but if you met everyone, you'd see the hope in their eyes. You'd see how wonderful they are. I need to do this. For them. For him. I'll sink to the deepest depths of despair if it means their hope." Maki explained. She gulped, and continued, "I'd want to be the SHSL Child Caregiver. Or maybe the SHSL Assassin. I like working with kids, they always seem to be happy when I'm taking care of them. And… I guess assassins are cool. No one would expect an assassin contestant."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"I hope you will consider me for Danganronpa. Thank you."
-
-
-
After a few weeks, she had forgotten all about the audition tape. She simply focused on taking care of the smaller orphans and making money any way she could. One day, she found an unexpected letter in her mailbox. It read,
"Maki Harukawa,
Congratulations on getting accepted to Danganronpa Season 53 as the SHSL Child Caregiver. On XX-XX-XXXX, Come to the address listed at the bottom of the letter. Thank you for your participation. We look forward to having you.
Sincerely,
Team Danganronpa"
She read it twice, thrice, multiple times before letting it sink in. She was gonna do this. She was going to save the orphanage, no matter what she had to do. She began thinking of ways to tell everyone, but she knew the person she had to tell first.
Kokichi Ouma. He'd been with her for as long as she could remember. They had been brought to the orphanage at around the same time, and they were inseparable. They were the closest of friends. He never failed to make her smile with his jokes, or his careless attitude. And she never failed to protect him from the anxieties that plagued his mind. She loved him.
"H-hey Maki Roll…. I need to talk with you." The familiar voice interrupted her train of thought.
"I need to talk with you too, Ouma.." Maki said, and they went outside to the bench by the nearby lake where they had spent so much time laughing and talking together all their lives. They simultaneously pulled out their respective acceptance letters, and immediately understood. They set the letters down and immediately hugged each other, cherishing the moments they had together to the fullest, knowing that soon, their entire personalities would be remade, and they would lose each other forever. | c79c85f0852f4c9cb93aa495e5001654 | ['667277e962f249c7aa781447a485807c'] | Laughter in The Snow
It was one of those rare times Dad was out of the mansion. The Hargreeves' were in the living room, all lounging about, another rare moment where they were all together and not competing for anything. Luther was taking a nap, Diego was pacing around, Allison was braiding Luther's hair ("Don't you dare wake him up!!!"), Klaus was sighing dramatically and sitting in all sorts of strange positions, Five was staring into the fireplace, Ben was hanging upside down from the chandelier (Don't ask how he got up there, you don't want to know.), and Vanya was silently fingering a piece she had received the previous day.
Mom and Pogo stared out at this rare moment, and shared a knowing smile. Mom went up to the surveillance room and fiddled around with the equipment. Pogo went to the door to act as a look out. Why were they doing this? You see, on this rare December afternoon where Dad was out of the house, it just so happened that there was a blanket of snow on the ground, and flakes falling slowly and gently. All children deserve to play in the snow at least once in their lives. So as Mom exited the surveillance room, she brought seven coats, seven scarves, seven hats, and seven pairs of gloves.
"Okay! It is a snow day and if there's one thing all kids should do at one point in their lives, it's playing in the snow," She said with her cheerful tone. "So put these coats, scarves, hats, and gloves on, and let's go!"
"But isn't that against the rules…?" A half-asleep Luther asked. Allison had finished the braid and he had yet to notice.
"Rules, Schmules. Let goooo a littleeee Luther!" Klaus said with a half cocked smile. He and Diego were already putting on their coats, Allison and Five were getting up slowly, Ben was jumping down, and Vanya was waiting patiently for hers. Mom winked at Luther and raised a finger.
"Shhh. While Reginald is gone, I override the rules." With this, Luther got up to get his coat. They quickly finished bundling up and ran outside.
As they saw the quiet flakes falling down, they stared in fascination. The snow was glittering! You could catch them on your tongue! Oh my god look at the snow littering your hair! They laughed and ran around, one of the few moments of happiness in their dysfunctional and painful childhoods.
They all worked together to create a snowman, fully equipped with a carrot nose and button eyes and a scarf to stay warm. Klaus and Ben jumped in the snow and made snow angels.
Thwap. A snowball hit Luther. Diego stood next to a pile of snowballs, all packed and ready to be thrown.
"Oh so that's how it's gonna be, huh." Luther said with a smile. He began packing a snowball and chucked it at Diego. Soon, an all out war began. Allison and Luther on one side, Diego, Klaus, Five, Ben, and Vanya joining on the other. The sound of laughter that was oh so rare in the house brought a smile to Mom and Pogo's faces.
They eventually all tired out, each of them sprawling out on the cold ground. Mom brought everyone inside, giving them all dry clothes to change into, blankets, and putting a pot of hot chocolate on the stove. Diego bragged about his victory against Luther, and they all laughed and smiled and _were a family_. None of them wanted it to end, but they all knew that as soon as their father walked through the doors, it wouldn't be back for a long time.
But for now, they cherished the present, they cherished each other, they cherished _having a family_.
**Author's Note:**
> i love tua sm |
bc5f18c0d3264fc7a4e3329de26139fd | ['669f3d0203274132a23606dccfd4d18a'] | All of them were beaten and defeated... Just like me. I saw their villages burn, their families die. I saw them in despair and agony. I saw my own guilt in their eyes. A chance to start over... They were my chance to help and be helped. I only now understood what Raiden meant when he told me that with me all of us were resurrected. These survivors were meant to be warriors. To be my Shirai Ryu!
I found Myu in a place near to my resurrection. A 16 year old orphan girl that helped me get in shape. She lived on the streets, but somehow kept her youthful joy and carelessness. The first citizen in years, who was not afraid and terrified by me. Myu made me feel needed. I would get her food and shelter and in return she would do something irreplaceable - she helped me feel human again.
"Hanzo!" she would call.
It was something I would not let anyone call me before. But now. I just could not say no. Her laughter was very girly and charismatic, making me crack a smile every time I heard it. She was childish but strong and independent, a perfect choice for a warrior. She was worth being protected, but even more so I wanted to teach her what I knew. To make her stronger, to make her a Shirai Ryu.
I told that girl a story I thought no one would ever hear- the story of my miserable life. Surprisingly she took everything with understanding and no fear. Why did I speak to her - a 16-year-old child - about such personal and brutal things? Honestly, I wouldn't have the answer even now. But when emotions are bottled up, they still find their way out. For my sake this story had to be told, at least to someone. I was lucky that that - someone- did not turn out be "anyone" Her response touched me deeply, she listened carefully, then said,
"Why not reestablish your clan?" to me the words were extremely inspiring.
_It was not possible..._
_But why exactly not?_
We found a perfect place to make the temple. An abandoned village. Up in the mountains where the air was thin and cold. It was a fresh start... Literally. All that was left, was to find the recruits and rebuild.
"No problem at all!" She'd laugh.
Like a sunray in the darkness, she was an inspiration. Using the fire in her soul honorably, she led me out of the pitch black of my life. Like a beacon leads the ship towards it's destination. An orphan that required a father figure in her life, someone to teach and lead her. But in truth it was me who needed guidance, which she so unconditionally gave. With her I felt warm, and that heat was not painful or burning, it was once in an eternity actually just warm.
Myu became a daughter to me. Gave me something that I was missing - a family, a feeling of home. And encouraged me to do things I would not even think of doing on my own.
To rebuild.
To reestablish.
To resurrect.
She was the major reason why the Shirai Ryu exists today. And for that, I will always be indebted to her.
**_I'll carry you home, no, you're not alone,_ **
**_Keep marching on, this is worth fighting for,_ **
**_You know we've all got battle scars._ **
7. Acceptance
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Intro Quote - Westlife : I'll See You Again
**_Always you will be part of me,_ **
**_And I will forever feel your strength,_ **
**_When I need it most._**
It was only the beginning of dawn, and the sky only started to blush pink, but he was already wide awake. That night he has not been sleeping at all, actually. The air smelled of blossom and was decorated with pale Sakura petals carried by the light breeze. The view from the cliff was breathtaking, a narrow spring vigorously making its way down the mountain, fields shining with emerald below. The sun was lazily trying to wake up, giving birth to the first gentle rays. Beautiful. Hanzo Hasashi sat on the warm stone, legs crossed and eyes shut. He was meditating, taking in the soft sent of the bloom and just thinking.
March was the month when the cherry gave its flowers, when the nature woke up from its long sleep. It was also the month when _She_ was born. And today was the day. He smiled to himself remembering her gentle feminine laugh, how her hair was always in a perfect bun. She did always love the Sakura, they had one in their yard back then. She would sit under it and sing. Her voice was beautiful and gentle, but the ballads she sang were always sad, about the winter. He remembered them like it was yesterday, the words started flowing out of his mouth as he sang to himself. The words were mournful but he did not feel sad. Hanzo was at peace with the world and with himself, even the demon inside him seemed to keep quiet. The world seemed to stop as he sang, and remembered the moments they had together.
Kana was a flower herself, gentle and gracious. Her kisses were silk and her sincere words of love - honey. People often wondered why the temple of ruthless assassin had so many decorative plants. But in truth their grandmaster believed that ninjutsu was not only an art of the body but also of the soul. His students should appreciate the nature and the world around. Before she died everything was different, and he was slowly coming back to what he used to be.
Maybe if it was a couple of years ago he would be angry. At the fact her death was so swift. At Sub-Zero. At the world. At himself. Of course, sometimes he still felt sad and guilty, but today just was not the day. Despite the odds it was a holiday - the birthday of a beautiful flower - he should have been happy.
Hanzo picked a Sakura branch of the floor, it was weak, so it did not survive under the mountain wind. But it was still glorious. He stood up and started walking. The Shirai Ryu temple had a special place for all the fallen warriors, a beautiful graveyard to be precise. The place always felt almost haunted, with all the white gravestones and complete silence there. He walked through it sighing heavily. They were all here, his lost family and clan, but now he had a new family. Right? He was not forgetting them in any way, but now he had new people to care about. They would be happy for him.
She had a special place there. A shrine of white marble. Even though her body was not there, he came there to talk to her spirit. The place was light, glowing even. Hanzo put the branch down and started to talk,
"I know it was your favorite," he tilted his head a little and sat down onto his knees.
He started a prayer looking up at the candy colored sky. The words that were learned by heart years ago kept coming. _She was his everything. The reason he joined the clan. The reason he was happy. The reason he had will to live._ The silence was cut by his words, with only the symphonic rattling of the leaves accompanying him. Like music to the words of a poet. As he prayed strands of hair fell onto his eyes making him seem even more imperfect in comparison to the atmosphere of the place.
The tears he has been holding back all these years, started to slowly make their way down his cheeks. Falling onto the blinding white of the stone. Hanzo let in new people into his life, into his heart. Making them his family, his clan. But in his newfound worries of the grandmaster, he never really had the time to let go. To let go of her- the memory of her soft lips, of her sweet voice. The memory of them-his clan mates and friends.
"I love you, Kana," he said whipping of the tears.
Today was the day to remember...
_But also to let go and accept._ | 8127f10cc808419b943eb12704331ac9 | ['669f3d0203274132a23606dccfd4d18a'] | _When you overcome both your dreams and nightmares, you are rewarded with true friendship and love. What could be bad about those feelings? Only that when you lose a loved one your life becomes living hell, and the scars of that loss never heal._
Smoke was very quiet now. He saw the building from a distance. It was lifeless and too quiet. He sensed the familiar sting of death in the air, it was as though everyone and everything in the building was already dead. Tomas expected it to be much lighter outside the forest, considering that the sun has already rose. However, the building was veiled by the dark clouds that almost seemed artificial. It started to drizzle. The soil beneath his feet was slowly turning into mud. When walked out of the forest, a blood-curling picture was revealed. Bodies, bodies, bodies… Being an atheist, he still prayed not to find one body in this mash of corpses and blood. Is one person’s life a lot to ask for? The drizzle turned into a real rain, making a red, thick river flow around the dead. Tomas’ boots were soaked up in blood. All the peace and calmness of the morning was gone with the rain.
He stepped over the corpses, all killed in various ways, all having terrified expressions on their faces. Heads and other body parts were floating in the pool of blood mixed with water. It was as though he was suddenly in a mincing machine, but the view did not disgust him, he was used to it. He broke the front door with a kick.
“Tundra,” he called in hope.
Kuai could have killed all those people and left. But why would he leave, they agreed on meeting outside. Most of the people inside were frozen. Shattered pieces of iced flesh were lying on the floor. Maybe he was upstairs? Tomas ran up, almost slipping on the melted snow left from the fight. The room upstairs was emptier than all the others, with only three bodies lying on the floor. Ice glistened on the wall in beautiful patterns. The thunder roared outside, and the life of the forest seemed to fade again. Smoke ran to the window. On the edge of the cliff the building was standing on, were signs of a fight, only two people in the world could fight like that. He jumped straight out of the window forgetting safety. A groan. He landed on the wounded leg.
“Tundra!” he shouted into the air, almost shouting to the dead guards.
Lightning split the sky. Tomas ran towards the abyss. Blood mixed with the soil, dying the ground a hellish red color. He was the son of hell. The creation of Satan. Why? Why?!? Why in the world would he feel this? This strange emptiness. As though someone has ripped out a part of him.
“KUAI!”
Several ice copies of his friend stood around him. More corpses than a normal person could take, but he was no mere person. His knees bent, falling loudly into the pool of blood. Rain falling with dirty droplets onto his bare skin and clothes, onto his hair and into the mask.
“Please, Kuai, please, I beg you!” Tomas said throwing his head to the sky, “Why god, Why?” an atheist who asked something from the god, funny.
His uniform was now completely in red stains, like carnations brought to a funeral. To his funeral. Tomas inched forward, to see what he was so terrified of. The sky blue uniform lying on the floor. He ran towards it, splashing the blood all over the place. Not noticing the bodies he stepped on, nor the thunder rumbling, nor the tears falling from his eyes. And there he lied on the ground. Two rose red marks contrasting his pale skin. One in the shoulder, and one in the heart. He had an empty expression, “Where were you, Tomas?” Smoke grabbed his friend’s hand, no longer thinking of the principles he cried openly.
“You promised me! You said you will be fine!” he yelled through the tears.
He hugged his friend tightly, never letting go of his hand, afraid of his own feelings. The body was heavy in his hands, an empty shell of the person he knew. He shook hysterically, but Kuai didn’t respond, “Where were you when I needed you? WHERE?!?” The assassin cried, tears falling down onto the ground. He had now nothing left in this world. Nothing except the emptiness, and the constant sting of fire.
“I… I trusted you…” he didn’t want this life anymore.
No more pain. No more Lin Kuei.
No more Smoke.
He grabbed the gun of the guard that was the nearest to him. Taking the hand of his friend into his own.
“I have failed you in life,” he told Kuai in a shaking voice, “I will not fail you in death,”
He charged the gun, one last time looking at the dark sky. “There really is no god,” Tomas thought to himself as he pulled the trigger.
**You could not hear me cry, see my dreams all die,**
**From where you were standing on your own.**
**It was so quiet there and I felt so cold,**
**This house no longer seemed a home.**
**Author's Note:**
> Hope you liked this work ;) |
14ac8cbb083e406185e3c77c95e28262 | ['66b7195f73de4eb6b2cbe5ce87ec9094'] | The Hunters Of Artemis - One Shot
Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson, Rick Riordan does.
Dr. Thorn laughed "now do you see how hopeless it is? Yield little heroes" we were trapped between a monster and a fully armed helicopter. We had no chance. That's when I heard the clear piercing sound of a hunting horn being blown in the woods.
The manticore froze, for a moment, no one moved. the only sound was the swirl of the snow and the steady chop of helicopter blades.
"No," Dr. Thorn said, "it cannot be-"
His sentence was cut off when a silvery object shot past my face, like a streak of moonlight. A glowing silver arrow sprouted from Dr. Thorn's shoulder.
"Curse you" he cried, unleashing his spikes into the woods where the arrows were coming from, but just as fast, arrows shot back in reply, cleaving the spikes in half before they reached the archers. No one, not even the Apollo campers had that kind of accuracy. Thorn pulled the arrow out, and I attacked, thinking him to be weaker. I was wrong, when I slashed at him with my sword, he dodged my attack and slammed me to the side.
Then the archers came from the woods. They were girls dressed in identical silver ski jackets and blue jeans. there was about a dozen of them, maybe more. The youngest maybe 12, the oldest around 16. Together, they advanced on the manticore.
"The Hunters" Annabeth cried
"Oh wonderful" Thalia muttered
One of them stepped forward, she was one of the older ones, with a silver circlet braided into her hair, distinguishing her from the rest. Her bowstring drawn, an arrow knocked and a determined expression on her face.
"Permission to kill milady," she asked, though I couldn't tell who she was talking to, it didn't matter. From the woods, a black arrow came forward and struck Thorn in the back.
"Permission is stolen" the figure yelled, jumping from the tree he was in.
" You will pay for that Bentsen!" she yelled, turning back to Thorn. The character joined the ranks of the hunters, it was a boy, around 12 or 13, with black hair and startling silver eyes.
"Bite me Nightshade," he said, smirking at the circlet girl, she glared at him, and lowered her bow. That was a mistake, cause as soon as Thorn realized her bow wasn't on him, he charged at me.
"No!" Annabeth jumped in front of me, he grabbed her in his arms and started running, presumably, he wanted a hostage. The boy was the only one to notice what was going on. "Help!" I screamed, the boy shot three black arrows at the monster, all at once, two of them missed and flew over his shoulders, while the third struck Thorn in his chest. "You will regret this Child of-" but before he could say anything else, Bentsen fired another arrow, which caused Thorn, and Annabeth, to fall over the cliff.
"Annabeth" I yelled, I tried to run to the cliffside, but the helicopter started firing. the auburn-haired girl, the one who kinda seemed to be in charge, stared calmly at the helicopter.
"Mortals," she said "are not allowed to witness my hunt" then the copter exploded into dust.
The hunters advanced on us, the boy and circlet girl still arguing. The auburn haired girl turned to them.
"Zoe, Aegon," she said sharply, they stopped and turned to her "quit it"
"Yes milady" they muttered together
"You," Zoe said when she saw Thalia
"Zoe Nightshade" Thalia's voice trembling with anger "Perfect timing as always"
Aegon, the boy, scanned the rest of us with his silver eyes "four half-bloods and a satyr" he said, locking eyes with me and winking
"Some of Chiron's campers I see," The girl said'
"Annabeth" I managed "you have to let us save her"
the boy looked at me sadly, before the auburn-haired girl spoke
"I'm sorry Percy Jackson, but your friend is beyond our help. And you are in no condition to be hurling yourself off cliffs."
"Let me go" I demanded, "who do you think you are anyway?"
Aegon snickered loudly, and Zoe stepped forward as if to smack me, thankfully, the girl stopped her
"No, I sense no disrespect Zoe, the boy is simply confused"
Confused, what did she mean? Zoe elbowed Aegon in the gut,
"Shut it, Guardian," she said, huh, Guardian of what, this kid was younger than me!
"I am Artemis," the girl said "Goddess of the Hunt" | e6ef95c52adc47e6a171faca6d9e424d | ['66b7195f73de4eb6b2cbe5ce87ec9094'] | Son Of War
Everyone one says that Romans are stricter and more organized than the Greeks and that that’s a good thing. Apparently, after the gods evolved to the Roman culture, they became more perfect, and OCD. As far as I know, the Greek and Roman methods are different, but the Greeks get more fun, which is perfect to me.
My name is Hayden Bishop, and I’m 15, my father is Andrew Bishop, and my mom is Bellona, the Roman goddess of war. If your not a demigod, you’ll probably think I’m crazy. Sorry folks, I’m not. In case you haven’t guessed already (if that's the case, I’m stunned you can read) the Greek and Roman gods are still living. Well, as much as you can live being 10 feet tall and all (kidding, they can change their height to be regular sized).
Anyhow, let’s get on with the story, right now, I’m a war hero and a centurion of the 5th cohort, as well as the 12th legion’s war strategist. But, this didn’t all happen at once, I mean, you can’t just show up at Camp Jupiter like - Yo, I’m Hayden, gimme some medals and recognition. That would be stupid, and kinda pointless if you ask me. You need to work hard to be rewarded.
Basically, we (The demigods) just finished defeating Gaea in an all-out war - humans vs the world. Literally, Gaea is the earth, thanks to some fabulous work by Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, Jason Grace, Leo Valdez, Hazel Levesque, Frank Zhang, Nico di Angelo, Reyna Ramirez Arellano, Thalia Grace and I. We won! But life isn't always sunshine and rainbows for us. Leo was an orphan, Thalia’s mom was alchohlic, Nico’s sister died and I, well that's what we're getting into.
Most of the demigods were part of the seven of the prophecy, the others completed some random tasks that aren't actually that random. For example, Nico and Reyna had to carry a gigantic statue of Minerva - sorry Athena, halfway across the world. As dumb as that sounds, it turned out that the statue had magical powers. What do you know?
Well, anyway, when you first get to camp Jupiter, you get a little metal tag that is your probatio tablet. When you prove yourself in battle you get a tattoo with their godly symbol, SPQR (Senatus Populusque Romanus) and one stripe. From then on each year you survive, you get another stripe. The person with the most is Jason Grace, yours truly has the second most.
When I first got to camp, I was 6, and I was claimed within a week, and then in a battle against some 50 something hellhounds, i saved the praetor and killed 5 or 6. So I have 9. There were no other children of Bellona at camp, so I was alone. But, I made good friends with other kids in my cohort, including Jason. Because we were the youngest legionnaires, we hung out together.
When the war started, he was a praetor, and I was nothing. Over the years, he and I grew apart as he received more medals and recognition. Everyone began to doubt my parentage, doubt that I had trained at the Wolf House, doubt I was Roman. I knew I was, but back then, perhaps I was the only one… |
710beb44d54d45fbb00dc30014c12830 | ['66c1c09d74b0425d8bfeb4f8ae11f0f6'] | Loki spills cold water on his face in the bathroom of his bedchambers, still shaking from suppressed anger. His expression in the mirror shocks him; cheeks flushed red, his eyes wide, every muscle in his face taut like he's about to come apart at the seams any moment now, and it's all because of Thor, because of their stupid fight Loki had not meant to start in the first place. Cursing, he bangs the marble sink with both of his fists, items hurtling to the floor, and then grips it for support, trying to will his breathing to calm down. When he opens his eyes, the skin of his hands has taken a blue tinge and the drops of water still left glistening on the marble have turned to ice, frost spreading from Loki's fingers on it's own. Startled, he withdraws his hands, happens to glance at the mirror, and yes, the blueish green of his eyes appears quite red in his reflection, his normally pale complexion an appalling shade of icy azure.
"No, no, _no, _" Loki mutters, bringing his hands to the light and inspecting them closely - but the blue color of his true Jötun skin has already started to fade like it had been nothing more than a trick of the eye. Could it be that Odin's glamour has started to wear off now that he's dead? Loki shakes his head to get his hair out of his eyes and then pushes it back, walking in circles in the spacious bathing room to stop the panic building up inside his stomach. He hates his Jötun form, despises it, for it reminds him of every lie that's been fed to him since the day Odin brought him back from Jötunheim to raise as his own offspring. The rush of dread slowly subsides, giving in to the initial feeling of shame - his outburst had indeed been totally uncalled for - but admitting his faults has never been one of Loki's many virtues. Entering his bedroom, Loki pulls back the drapes of his four-poster bed, lays down on his back and stares at the high ceiling with his fingers crossed over his chest, while in his mind a fierce battle against his pride rages.__
Loki considers breaking into the vaults where still, to this date he isn't allowed to enter, and entertains himself with the idea of taking the Tesseract and unleashing enough chaos to go up to his brother's room and murder him in his sleep. He thinks about letting loose the Eternal Flame that stills burns buried deep in their vaults and torching the kingdom until nothing but ash remains, or now that his true Jötun form has shown itself to Loki once more, maybe opening the Casket of Ancient Winters wouldn't be a terrible idea. He goes through every weapon he knows to be hidden inside the palace's vaults, thinks of a thousand ways to kill his brother but nothing seems to ease his troubled mind, not one bit, and so, Loki swallows his pride and leaves his room though it's well past midnight.
There are guards standing by his brother's door but distracting them is easy; Loki simply conjures a double and makes them chase it to the furthest northern wing and unceremoniously bursts in through the doors without knocking.
"Alright, you win!" Loki exclaims loudly and spots his brother sitting on the end of his bed removing his boots - Thor seems to only be mildly surprised to see him, not alarmed in the slightest. "I apologize."
"Excuse me," Thor leans back on the bed, the widest, dumbest grin splitting his face in half, "Care to repeat that?"
"I apologize," Loki mutters, suddenly aware of standing there in his night clothes while Thor is still fully dressed, "A temporary lapse in my judgement, I shouldn't have stabbed you."
"Hold on," Thor holds up his hands - one of them lightly bandaged, "Let me get this straight, you're admitting to being wrong?"
"I'm not admitting to being wrong, _per se_ ," Loki circles around the subject, irked by the look of pure amusement in Thor's expression, "I'm just telling you I'm sorry."
"Quiet, I want to remember this moment until my dying day," Thor closes his eyes for a moment and places a hand over his chest. "My dearest little brother, finally seeking reconciliation."
"I _will_ stab you again if you don't shut up," Loki tells him, dead serious as he takes a seat next to Thor on the bed, "This time you would have had it coming."
"I just wasn't expecting such sentiment from you, Loki."
"Enjoy it while it lasts, I'm already about to change my mind."
They're quiet for a moment while Thor removes his shoes and kicks them away, then beginning to remove his armour to get more comfortable. Loki doesn't offer him a helping hand but gnaws the inside of his cheek, sensing the shift in the atmosphere as Thor is clearly about to speak his mind and Loki has no choice but to await judgement.
"My touch... Does it disgust you?"
Loki had not been expecting this. He turns to face his brother but Thor has busied himself with taking off his wrist bracers to avoid locking gazes, like he's _nervous_ , and Loki can't wrap his mind around it, not at all, and where as a couple minutes ago he'd been fully in control of the situation, he now has no idea where it's going. Conversations never seem to go according to Loki's plans.
"Of course not," he says and it's true - nothing about Thor disgusts him, on the contrary.
"I only wish you would think of Asgard as your home again," Thor says as he places the remaining pieces of his armor on the carpet and turns to look at him, "I know you do not think you belong here but you do, it doesn't matter if you're Jötun, you're still my-" | 46f5c9718acf451fac1f61f57d2c90c2 | ['66c1c09d74b0425d8bfeb4f8ae11f0f6'] |
**Author's Note:**
> First time posting a Merthur fic and I'm super pumped about it! Also I'm new to AO3 (I guess you could say I'm old, I used livejournal for fics until late last year) so I hope I did everything correctly. Btw, I drew a picture to go with the fic - scroll down if you're only interested in seeing the art :)
Arthur isn't sure whether their teacher paired him and Merlin Emrys up because of their names or the fact that they're both equally as bad in science. They sit together in the middle of the class room - right where their teacher can see if they're paying attention or not - the tables preassigned as if they're still kids completely unable to concentrate in class which is not that far from truth. Arthur finds the subject horribly boring and apparently so does Merlin if the vacant, glassy look that clouds his eyes when the teacher starts talking is anything to go by. He and Merlin have some classes together, they get on just fine - it's not like they haven't been paired up before as most of the teachers think their names make a delightfully hilarious combo. _Arthur and Merlin._ How original.
Merlin is leaning his cheek against his palm, half slumping over the desk, staring at the chalk board in front of them clearly not understanding anything. Arthur's given up the fight long ago, instead looking around the classroom, first staring at the neck of the student sitting in front of him, her long, red hair, twisted up into a bun, then at the periodic table on the wall that appears so old the color have washed out and Arthur can no longer tell if it was yellow to begin with. The teacher, Mrs. Olson, says something and Merlin glances at him, nudging his open book closer to Arthur and pointing at something on the page spread before them.
"Did she say 2B or 2D?" Merlin asks unclearly - at first Arthur thinks it's because he has a bit of an accent and it's sometimes hard to understand what Merlin's saying in any case but that's not it, this time.
"Huh?"
"You werrrren't listening eitherrrr?" Merlin raises an eyebrow, giving Arthur a look that says, _oh well, whatever._ His r's sound funny, even thicker than before, and Arthur's totally not expecting it when he sees something a bit sparkly glistening inside the other boy's mouth.
"Sorrrry, I can't speak properrrly," Merlin tells him, noticing Arthur's confused expression, "I got my tongue pierced on Saturday."
"Boys," comes the teacher's voice, now closer than before, "Exercise 2B please, if you will."
Arthur tears his gaze away for a second to read the assignment - it's something about the stuff the teacher was just saying, something about cells, what was the topic even - and Arthur finds it even harder to concentrate as he steals another glance at the black haired boy at his side. Merlin has his tongue out, he's playing with the piercing and even though it looks as if it would hurt, pulls it between his teeth and moves the barbel around. Merlin can feel him staring, he's just as restless as Arthur in the boring class, and so he makes eye-contact again and sticks out his tongue to show. Somewhere deep inside his stomach, Arthur feels a surprising lurch. How unexpected.
"Did it hurt?" he asks, resisting the urge to reach out and pull Merlin's tongue out of his mouth to take a better look. Merlin doesn't seem like the type to be into piercings and tattoos, he's a bit of a geek really - if anything, it should be Arthur to go out and get his nipple pierced or something on a drunken whim. It's the type of shit Arthur pulls just for a laugh.
"A bit," says Merlin, making sure the teacher's not looking before leaning closer and continuing with a lazy grin on his lips, "The girl who did it, who works at the shop, was mad fit."
Arthur returns the grin and shakes his head.
"Oh yeah?"
"Oh yeah," Merlin makes a gesture with his eyebrows to let Arthur know just how fit she was. He turns his attention away, back to the book and reads out loud but Arthur interrupts him.
"Can you feel it when you... You know. Eat and stuff? When you kiss?"
"I guess, I haven't trrrried though."
"Eating?"
"Kissing, you moron," Merlin tells him and for a second they pretend to be busy with the assignment when the teacher walks by. "Okay so we're supposed to... I guess... Uhm, what are we supposed to even-"
"You haven't tried kissing? _Ever?_ " Arthur asks, a bit more loudly than he intended and Merlin gives him a look somewhere between pity and compassion. Arthur gets those looks sometimes, like people think he's been hit on the head one too many times on the football field.
"Arthur, you absolute arrrrse," Merlin lets out a soundless laugh, the piercing in his mouth catching Arthur's eye again, "Of course I've kissed people, I'm not twelve. I haven't kissed anyone with this piercing on, I don't think you're supposed to, yet. It might get infected."
"Whatever. Wanker," Arthur huffs, slightly embarrassed. He tries to turn away, he really does, but somehow Merlin has taken over every single thought on his mind and Arthur just can't help it, he's easily distracted. The bell rings and Arthur opens his mouth to say something but instead, closes it and starts stuffing his things into his backpack while Merlin does the same. Some students shuffle past them, knocking Arthur on the side as he stands up and pulls on his hoodie.
"Mr. Pendragon, Mr. Emrys," the teacher calls, eyeing them disapprovingly which doesn't come as a surprise, "Come over here for a sec, would you?" |
41a2dc858e71467ab411d209fa32cd77 | ['66c4f468a37f42ecae0d6637c0d205d7'] | “ Lex, Virgin Gorda ahead” Leonard called out to Alexis to bring her attention back to what was happening now. The entire crew stopped what they were doing and looked to the island they were sailing towards.
Looking down to her crew Alexis knew they were going to want to go on the island while they were docked here. “ Don’t get too comfortable here, we are only in port for two hours than we're off again. If you need to go on shore, be back on the ship on time or your ass is mine if you are late. You understand me” Alexis said the whole crew as they sailed to the dock.
“Ay!” Her crew called out answering the captain. As they sailed in one of the docks slips, they rushed to make sure the ship was tied on the dock. The crew made sure their colors were not flying in case the military decided to come to port. Alexis, Leonard, and Mick walked off the ship to the dockmaster who was stunned to see them.
Alexis did not say one word but then again, she did not have too, she gave him a small leather coin purse filled to the max as a bribe. The dockmaster took it right away and left them alone, Piper walked off the ship with Eddie and Jax she followed the captain and the two officers off the dock into the town.
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Alexis, Leonard, and Mick walked through the town headed to the local tavern in town. The locals look at the trio with horror and wonder about the pirates. The Tavern that they are going to is called The Black Horse which is loved by the traveling criminals and the locals.
Walking in the establishment the trio met with laughter, people talking, and music. They saw prostitutes talking to drunk men barging for sex. Groups of people laughing, drinking, and having fun, Alexis smirked as she walked to the busy bar at the front wall. She pushed through the men asking for drinks to the bartender. “ Where is he?” Alexis asked the bartenders.
Leonard and Mick took it upon themselves to sit down at a booth. They had drinks delivered to the table by the girls. Alexis looked over to her friends waiting for a response. She could not help but smirk as the girls were all over Mick who was enjoying it. “ There she is Alexis Sanfino” The pirate smirked and looked behind her to see the owner standing there with a smile.
“ Hi Nico,” Alexis smiled to the owner, Nico is a tall muscular man with tan skin with dark brown hair and eyes. The two have a unique relationship, to say the least, and have known each other for years.
The owner walked up to her with a small smile as his eyes moved up and down her body. “What do I owe the pleasure of having Alexis Sanfino back in my Tavern?” Nico asked standing next to her rubbing her arm gently, smiling softly.
Alexis rolled her eyes at the man and brushed his hand off her arm shaking her head. “ Always a charmer we need to talk privately about something” she stated. Nico nodded not saying a word and led her upstairs to his private room. In their booth, Mick was enjoying the company of the women. Leonard shook his head relaxing in the booth and made sure the two did not get into too much trouble while watching the door.
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Piper, Eddie, and Jefferson walked around the town asking everyone about Oliver and Bradley. But everyone they asked has the same answer, no. The trio walked down a back alley seeing that they were alone, Piper took off her hat and let her red locks down. “ I don’t know any more Eddie, maybe they did get lost at sea. What did I do drag us on a pirate ship and doing this” Piper said rubbing her forehead pacing.
Eddie looked at his sister walking up to Piper and he brought her in a hug, rubbing her back calming her. “Pipe don’t worry ok, it's on Island out so many more in the Caribbean don’t give up after one day of disappointment,” Eddie said kiss her temple, they stayed in the hug for a few more minutes before breaking the hug.
Jefferson let the siblings have a moment as he looked around the buildings, walking back over to siblings he waited until they were done before speaking. “ I found a physician's office, maybe he might know, '' he suggested to the siblings.
Piper and Eddie look to Jefferson and then to each other, Piper moved her hair into her hat placing it on her head nodding to Jefferson. The girl took a minute to collect herself once she was ready, they headed down the street headed to the physician's office.
They walked down three buildings to find the right building, they passed almost three buildings before seeing the right one. Walking in the building it was quiet and there was a waiting room, a desk and then another door which led to exam rooms and his office. Seeing they were only ones Piper looked around confused not seeing anyone in the room with them. Piper knocked on the second door and called out, “Hello?”
The trio looked at each other for a few seconds not hearing anyone they were about to leave when the second door opened. An older man stood in the doorway looking at them with a smile, “My apologies, I didn’t think I had any appointments today what I can help with boys?” The older man asked in a kind tone.
“ Sir, have you treated any military sailors in the last five years?” Eddie asked before Piper could get one word in, walking closer to the doctor so the doctor can hear him better. | 44d85a05c7594e8e9d891b4032b90236 | ['66c4f468a37f42ecae0d6637c0d205d7'] | "LEONARD" Piper yelled freaking out that he was in her kitchen, Leonard looked over to her flipping the waffle maker . "Morning Pipe Dream. I know it's Saturday but sleeping until almost eleven" Piper rolled her eyes grabbing coffee that he made "yeah yeah shut it" she sat down at her table.
" How did you get in my apartment" Piper asked him after taking a few sips of coffee waking up a little." I walk through your front door around five am which was unlocked. I cleaned your very unorganized family room and made food like I have been doing. You take poor care of yourself. Waffles?" Leonard asked lifting the lid of the waffle maker.
Piper nodded when he offered her free food, "yeah" he gave her plate sitting down across from her. "You feed me but usually leave but now you stay and clean why" Piper ask the rouge. Leonard shrugged stood up and open her fridge before answering her question,” your fridge almost had nothing it and you eat only fast food.”
Piper look in the fridge and saw it stock with everything a functional human need." You bought me groceries" Leonard nodded and got her vitamins that were on the counter, " yes I take care of you know. Take these " Piper took them not moving her eye contact with Leonard " I’m a wreck" Leonard nodding he gathered that in the short time he knows her" that's why I am taking care of you Piper.”
15. Starling: The Second Date
Alexis took the morning to train with her cousins in hand in hand combat, they were training she was updating her skills in her fathers gym they all train in. She has been trained in everything her father could get his hand on.
" Come on you wimps up lets go" the men on the floor groaned and panted getting up regrettably as Alexis took them down one by one. She was about to take the last one down when a voice broke the training session, "Time" Alexis looked over to her father Luca the boss of the family.
Alexis smirk and elbow the last on twisted his arms throwing him to the ground "Papa" she said. Alexis walk down to him taking her water bottle drinking from it looking to him with a look on why he’s here." My friends followed you last night and took some interesting pictures of what you did last night." Alexis laughed she wasn’t even surprised that he had people watching," you mean your lap dogs and it was just dinner with heavily make out session on my front door pretty sure there was touching."
Alexis watched as her father was getting pissed with satisfaction and no shame. "THE MAYOR OF STARLING CITY REALLY ALEXIS" everyone jumped Alexis didn't they stood toe to toe glaring at each other. "Wired I’m going out with Oliver Queen who oddly enough as the same name as the mayor.. wait a minute he is and yeah I'm seeing the mayor and I do not need your permission" Alexis walked off to the locker room to take a shower then dressed in black leather pants, black tank and leather jacket, black thigh high boots.
Alexis grabbed her semi automatic and few knives putting them in her pants and her hair in a ponytail. Alexis looked to her phone that lit up showing she had a text from Oliver .'hey breakfast?' Alexis smiled she like the feeling Oliver gave her that she was normal girl mostly because he didn't know about her really. Though in the back of her mind she knew he was looking for something and he was hiding something but she didn't want to think that. ' sure text me where' Alexis replied.
Alexis walked out to see Luca still there patiently waiting for his daughter to come out. " Your going to central today and the flying back. I need you there to finish a deal that I have going on" Alexis looked to him little confused sense she knew everything that involves the family " what kind of deal.” She asks looking to confused but also interested on what this is about." Just a local deal with this uhh Captain Cold. I need to tell him that you are going and Mario isn't I need him to do something else ." Alexis blinked looking to her father trying to wrap her head around this.
" Captain Cold you have a deal with the leader of the rogues. Leonard Snart a thief, bank heist big bad wannabe. You want me to do something that is below my position that is something that is for associate not your underboss I can't believe you are punishing me when you should be thanking me.” Alexis snapped looking to her father this was one below her position and two this was a punishment for going on a date with Oliver.
Luca looked to her and raised an eyebrow looking to his heir interested on why she said such things, "why." Alexis took a breath before speaking quickly making up a thought he would like," Because I have the mayor in my grasp I could have him to the point where i only to whisper in his ear to get Oliver pass laws we want, turn away when we are involved, get Robin Hood, We would control starling city government." Alexis said.
When those words were spoken she didn't know if she believed them or it was a way to get him off her back Luca looked at her with a look that was conflicting in what she just said " your going to Central and I still want Green Arrow dead. Do not fail me" he told her as the boss and left the gym in a huff. |
f6ba941856374baa983db076ceecc01d | ['66e3ac5ea0434846a018243a9de9a2d0'] |
The War We Fight Against Our Past
Seven days. A week of the most excruciating pain he had ever felt. He should know, he had died. This was worse. Harry had thought that he had finally found his family and now that was gone. He had always felt like he was an outsider and belonging was not something he would ever truly experience. With the Dursleys he was the boy in the shadows. Never acknowledged, never spoken to or about with love or respect, never a part of the family, just a houseguest that had wildly overstayed their welcome. At Hogwarts, he had tried to make a family for himself. The Weasleys and Hermione had been his family, but again, not completely. They were as close as Harry thought he would ever get but he still felt separate because he never quite believed that they loved him as much as they said they did. They had shown this when they were grieving for Fred. The unyielding sorrow had hit them hard and for a while they had unconsciously closed themselves off, banding together as a Weasley clan unable to let others share their heartache. In time, things would get better, but in the months that followed the war, Harry felt the distance that grief created and decided that he should let them be. Ron of course tried to tell Harry that he was being stupid and that they were still brothers in spirit if not in name. Nothing would change that he had assured him, but Harry hadn’t believed it and they had drifted apart. The days spent together got less and less frequent and it felt like Harry was always the one initiating their get togethers. So Harry had started doing things on his own. That’s when he had run into Draco. It had been a bleak day in February and Harry had wandered into a coffee shop and ordered a large tea. As he waited for his order he looked around for a table to sit at. That’s when he saw him. He would recognize that profile anywhere and the hair of course was a dead give away. He collected his tea and made his way over to the corner table. “Is this seat taken?” he asked quietly and the shocked face that peered up at him was one that Harry would not soon forget. They had talked for hours that day and Harry found that while Draco still had some of the same personality traits he had before the war, there was a maturity that can only come with life experience and he knew they both had experienced a lot in their 18 years. They found that they had a lot more in common than Harry had ever thought possible, and that, they say, was that. They started getting together for coffee, lunches, dinners, pints at different pubs, and slowly they went from being friends to being family. Now they were nothing, in one instant Harry had had everything ripped away from him again.
The first two days after the incident were an alcohol soaked blur where Harry oscillated between crying heart wrenching tears and hurling glasses at the wall in fits of despair. He would fall into troubled sleep in between these cycles and he would dream of Draco. Memories would weave together in his mind and he would watch the life they had created flow through his subconscious in a way that when he awoke again he would either be filled with grief or anger at Draco for not realizing that what they had was different, special, a forever kind of thing. One set of memories that kept replaying in his mind was of early mornings where he and Draco were laying in bed, just on the edge between sleep and wakefulness. Draco was wrapped in Harry’s arms and Harry was slowly running his fingers through his hair or rubbing his hand slowly up and down Draco’s chest as Draco nestled in closer, fitting their bodies together like puzzle pieces. Draco’s sigh of contentment would be what would wake Harry because the tears running down his cheeks and the tightness in his lungs would make it hard to breathe. | 0ba2c17136984a2fa96fcc070b9597dd | ['66e3ac5ea0434846a018243a9de9a2d0'] | The fourth day brought resignation. He felt like he was just an echo of himself now. Gone was the Harry Potter that danced in the kitchen stirring pots on the stove while Draco chopped the veggies for the salad. Gone was the Harry that laughed and drank and bluffed his way through poker nights surrounded by friends that had embraced Draco and accepted their relationship fully. That had been one of the most precious things to Harry. How his friends had seen the good in Draco despite their history and had chosen to forgive. To show in every interaction that they not only accepted Draco, but counted him as one of their own. Their approval made Harry feel loved and at peace. Now he would have to face his friends alone and he wasn’t sure he could stand to see their pity or their grief at losing Draco too. They would surely blame him, or worse, blame Draco and tell Harry that it didn’t surprise them, as Draco was always selfish and untrustworthy. Harry knew that if he heard those words he would lose it because no matter what happened to their relationship, Harry still loved Draco and would defend him to his last breath. Draco did not deserve hatred or scorn. How many times had they walked down Diagon and heard the whispered remarks that made Harry see red. How many times had Harry seen Draco bow his head and press in closer to Harry’s side when the hate speech had been hurled at him, never defending himself, never standing up to the insults and the slurs because he felt he deserved it. Harry had of course defended him and spoken with such passion and also disbelief that after everything he had done, people still felt they had the right to spew such volatile hate. He would not stand for it and he told them so. Time and time again he fought against those self righteous idiots, until they slowly started to leave them alone. Maybe Draco hated that. Maybe he hated having someone else speak for him, save him. Draco never treated Harry as a savior, he just treated him as “Potter” and then “Harry.” He didn’t need saving, he would say when they got home, but Harry would just pull him into a hug and say, “we save each other and I will not have my boyfriend spoken to in such a manner and if you don’t like it tough!” Draco would shake his head and kiss him. Maybe if Harry had just kept quiet, Draco’s pride wouldn’t have been wounded and they could still be together. He knew he was to blame for this whole fiasco, but he just couldn’t pinpoint the exact cause and without understanding why, how was he going to fix it?
The fifth and sixth day Harry replayed that horrible evening in his head over and over trying to figure out how he had missed the signs that his world was about to implode. He had been a bit late coming home from work, and Draco had been sitting at the table in the kitchen. At first, Harry thought he was upset because he didn’t call or let Draco know he was running behind. Harry started to apologize for being late. That’s when Draco had dropped the bomb. He had grabbed Harry’s hand to stop his babbling apology and told him to sit down. As Harry looked into his eyes Draco quietly said, “I can’t do this anymore Harry, we can’t be together anymore, I’m sorry, but we just aren’t meant to be. I have to live up to my family name and while this has been fun, I have to settle down and I can’t settle down with you. It just won’t work. My father was right, this isn’t real, it isn’t love, it is just a fling. I’m sorry, but you have to leave. We can’t be together”
Harry just sat there looking blankly at Draco. He felt as though he had been hit with the killing curse again. It was like Draco’s words had shut off all sound, all thought, all breath. When he was able to take in a shuddering breath he asked in a small voice, “What are you on about Draco? We love each other. This is a real relationship, we are real.” Then his voice took on a fervent pleading tone. “I am not leaving, you can’t make me leave. We can figure this out! I know that I am not easy to live with, but I can work on that. You are my family Draco, we are a family. I want us to be. I want us to be together forever. I want to marry you. I thought you wanted that too. We can figure this out. If this is about an heir, we can adopt or look into other options. There is always a way. Don’t do this to me, to us. Please Draco!
Draco had just looked at him with a blank mask on his face, and while his eyes looked sad he was resolute. “I’m sorry Harry, but you need to go. I will pack up your things and send them wherever you want, just get Ron or Hermione to owl me. Please, I need you to do this for me. Go find someone who can give you what you want, what you deserve. It just can’t be me. I can’t be that for you. You deserve better. I have been too careless and I need to try and redeem my family name. Please, just go”
In a mindless stupor Harry got up from the table, walked to the door and opened it. He looked back at Draco and whispered, “Please, don’t do this” Draco just shook his head sadly and Harry turned and began to make his way slowly down the stairs. He walked around the corner and hailed the Knight Bus. He ask the driver to take him to the Leaky Cauldron. He didn’t know where else to go, but he knew Tom wouldn’t ask too many questions. When he arrived, Harry stumbled into the bar. He found Tom and paid for a room. He walked silently to it, went inside, locked the door and sank to his knees. He started shaking as he curled into a ball on the floor. It was a while before he moved again.
Replaying this day did nothing to answer the questions plaguing Harry’s mind. He just could not understand what had happened. He knew that giving Draco space was important, but enough was enough. He needed answers and he needed to see if there was a chance to fix this. He was not going to give up on them. It wasn’t in his nature to let things go without a fight. He would call Draco in the morning and demand that they meet to talk. He wouldn’t let the love of his life go without fully understanding why Draco felt it necessary. With that resolved, he fell asleep.
Day seven had barely begun when he heard the sound of his phone ringing. It was early still so the song blared loudly from the bedside table as there was not enough ambient noise to drown it out. Harry recognized the song immediately. It was the ringtone he had set for Draco. The song was North by the band Sleeping at Last. He had chosen that song for Draco as a reminder of what he hoped they were building together. He picked up the phone and touched the button to answer.
“Draco?” He croaked out. Then he heard the words that would start to put his heart back together,
“I’m so sorry.” came the raspy reply.
“I’m on my way” and he disapperated. |
ce64ad0260b749c9a9d0d60187b65af8 | ['66edc3ac3426486485a68f866d5fb243'] | Yuuri opens his mouth to respond, then closes it, unsure how to respond. Sure, his entire life consists of performance after performance, but dancing here, just him and Victor, felt much more...intimate than if he were in front of thousands of people. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “D-Do you have a dance in mind?”
Victor puts a finger to his chin in thought. “Ah! The one you did as your first performance for the Tokyo Ballet! That’s my favorite.” Victor smiles warmly. “It reminded me of how I felt when I first started skating.”
_His favorite? Christ, how many performances of mine has he seen?_
“Let me see if I still have the music on my phone,” Yuuri says, moving to grab his phone from his bag. He scrolls through his list of music, stopping on the song when he’s found it. He then moves to plug his phone into the speakers. He then presses play, assuming his starting position. Victor looks on, and if Yuuri didn’t know any better, he’d say Victor looked starstruck.
The music begins and Yuuri feels the familiar tug in his stomach, and he relinquishes himself to the music, his body moving on its own accord, mind blissfully blank as he glides across the floor. He can feel a smile blossoming on his face, that unbridled joy bubbling up from inside him, heart thumping in his chest to the beat of the track. Before he knows it, he’s spinning, his last pirouette morphing into his final pose, arm outstretched, index finger pointed straight at Victor. He’s breathing heavily, and as soon as the music stops, he can feel his limbs get heavy, and he slumps forward, trying to quell the intense emotion that threatens to spill out of him. He’s not going to cry in front of Victor. He’s already embarrassed himself enough.
Yuuri’s surprised when a pair of strong arms suddenly wrap around him, and he flicks his gaze upward, meeting Victor’s piercing gaze, and he gets goosebumps. _How does he do that with just a look?_
“Yuuri, what you just did right there... _that’s_ what makes you my inspiration,” Victor says, his voice gone soft. He goes to move away but for some reason Yuuri stops him, his arms reaching up to hug Victor back, melting into the embrace. Victor tenses in surprise but then chuckles, and Yuuri can feel his laughter vibrating through his chest where he’s pressed up against him.
“Thank you,” Yuuri mumbles into Victor’s chest, and Victor hums, giving Yuuri a final squeeze before Yuuri disentangles himself from him. “I’ve just...No one’s ever called me their inspiration before,” he murmurs abashedly, eyes dropping to the floor.
“Really?” Victor says, sounding truly incredulous. “I find that hard to believe. Who wouldn’t feel inspired after seeing a performance like that?” Yuuri smiles, turning his head away to hide his blush. He busies himself with taking a much needed sip of water, while Victor moves to the center of the room.
“What is it called, when you stand on the one foot and lift the other up?” Victor asks, readjusting his shoes. Yuuri’s surprised he’s still wearing them; breaking in new shoes isn’t easy, and ballet dancers aren’t known for having pretty feet. Then again, breaking in skates is probably very similar.
“A passé,” Yuuri responds, replacing the cap on his water bottle. “Or a retiré. They’re basically the same thing.”
Victor nods. “Show me?”
Yuuri turns one foot frontward, and the other out, then in one swift movement, brings his right foot up to where it’s formed a triangle shape, arms stretched upward in fifth position. He steps out of it, and watches Victor mimic his foot placement.
Victor pops his leg up, wobbling for a second...before immediately falling on his ass.
Yuuri can’t help the giggle that escapes him before he clamps a hand over his mouth.
Victor glares over at him, his lip jutted out in a pout. “What? Something funny?” he demands, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child.
Yuuri walks over to kneel in front of Victor. “It’s okay. Balance is something that takes a long time to master. Your center of balance on the ice is different than here, so you just have to readjust.” Yuuri straightens back up, and reaches out a hand to help Victor up.
“Owww,” Victor whines, rubbing his lower back, his pride hurt more than anything else.
Yuuri is still smiling as Victor stands, rubbing at his backside like a wounded animal. Before he realizes what he’s doing and can stop himself, he says, “You know if you continued taking lessons, I think you could learn that move easily.”
Victor’s head snaps up, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. “Taking lessons…” he says, voice slightly quiet. He then smiles fondly, and Yuuri feels like melting. “As in...you’ll teach me?”
Yuuri realizes the mistake in his words too late, inhaling sharply as his face flushes bright red. “O-Or, you know, from s-some other instructor!” Yuuri rushes to say. “I-I’m sure there are plenty of instructors w-willing to, er...t-to teach--”
“I don’t want anyone else to teach me,” Victor says plainly, eyebrows drawn. “I want to learn from you.”
Yuuri bites his lip, then sighs. “Listen, Victor,” he says. “I don’t know if I can be the kind of teacher you’re looking for. I mean, yeah, I can teach you, like, the basics of ballet, but...actual teaching is kind of out of my element.” Victor is silent for a moment, watching Yuuri with a calculated look behind his blue eyes. Then, he smiles again, a warm smile that Yuuri is sure could melt any person’s heart, and takes a step forward, arms raised as if offering a hug. | 826fbb64aa1443eea669a24ac1d77337 | ['66edc3ac3426486485a68f866d5fb243'] |
1. Chapter One
“Have you ever been ice-skating, Yuuri?”
Yuuri looks up at Minako from where he’s seated on the ground, lacing up his sneakers and stuffing his ballet shoes into his bag. He’d stayed behind after class again for an individual lesson with Minako, and he was going to be late for dinner if he didn’t hurry back to the onsen soon.
“Uh, yeah, a few times, up at Ice Castle with my family,” he says, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “Why do you ask?”
Minako squats down in front of Yuuri, smiling widely. “You’re already a phenomenal ballet dancer, even just from our few lessons, and I think you have the talent and endurance to become a world-class figure skater,” Minako says cheerily. She reaches out, grabbing Yuuri’s hands and smiling impossibly wider. “You could be just like Victor Nikiforov! He just won gold in the junior division at the Grand Prix Final, you know!”
_Victor who?_ Yuuri ponders, taking his hands back. He taps a finger against his chin in thought. _Figure skating?_
“No thanks,” he says, after a long pause. “Not that I don’t think I could. It’s just…I want to be a principal danseur someday.” He smiles at the mention of his dream, then meets Minako’s eyes with a serious expression. “I have to stay focused on ballet.” He shrugs, standing and shouldering his bag. “I guess Victor Niliforv, or whatever, will have to do the skating for me.” He waves goodbye to Minako before taking off, leaving her with a small smile on her face.
_He’ll reach that goal someday_ , she thinks to herself. _I’m sure of it._
* * *
10 Years Later
His hands shake as he finishes lacing up his shoes and readjusts his costume one last time. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous—he’s danced this performance dozens, possibly even hundreds of times, and he’s never once been nervous before.
_Oh right_ , he thinks to himself, pulling down on the front of his costume as he takes his place just behind the stage left curtain. _It’s because this is that performance_.
He hears the music swelling from the pit, the thunderous sound of the orchestra flowing through his feet and up into his body. He runs through the program once quickly in his mind, then lifts his head confidently as he steps beyond the curtain, the heavy stage lights only blinding him for a short moment as he assumes position on stage.
He feels rather than hears his cue from the orchestra, and he’s suddenly off, body snapping into action with the speed of the string of a bow, every lithe movement and graceful step out of his control. It’s always like this when he dances—him losing himself so much so that he doesn’t need to even think, only feel the unbridled joy he always experiences in times like this. His body becomes like an instrument controlled almost entirely by the music, performing jump after jump, spin after spin with effortless grace and in perfect time. He rises up into a high arabesque as the solo violinist holds an extended trill, then lowers his leg to begin a pirouette as the rest of the orchestra rejoins, a crashing crescendo of sound that has him smiling as he finishes the spin.
He, Yuuri Katsuki, lands in the finishing pose of his first performance as a principal danseur for The Tokyo Ballet as the orchestra plays its final note, followed immediately by thundering applause. He breathes heavily, reveling in the sound of clapping and even some cheering, and can’t help the smile that graces his face as he bows to the audience. This is everything he has ever wished for, and he can’t think of any way his life could get any better than this moment.
* * *
Victor all but tears his skates off his feet the moment he reaches the locker room, not even bothering to unlace them. He angrily stuffs his skates in his bag, barely remembering to slip on the skate guards, then stands, stalking towards the rink’s exit.
“ **VITYA**!” Victor grits his teeth at his coach’s voice, stopping just before the glass doors and forcing himself to keep looking forward as he hears Yakov coming closer. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
Victor sighs, turning around to face his coach. He gestures towards the door. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m leaving practice for the day, Yakov,” he deadpans, gesturing to the door with an even more exaggerated motion.
Yakov pinches the bridge of his nose, obviously annoyed. “You can’t leave yet,” he says, his voice strained in an attempt to be calm. “Your step sequences are off, it’s like you’re not even hearing the music!”
“Oh no, don’t worry, I’m _hearing_ the music,” Victor says, his grip tightening on his bag. “In addition to your incessant yelling and criticisms.”
“Your jumps alone can’t get you the gold,” Yakov says gravely. “We need to work on perfecting your step sequence if you want to win–”
“Have you considered the possibility that I might need a break, Yakov?” Victor asks. “We’ve been drilling the step sequences for both of my programs for nearly two weeks, and I’m **not getting any better**.”
“Then we just need to practice more,” Yakov says matter-of-factly. “The European Championships are less than a month away, and this is the most important time for you to be practicing your programs. You can get better, Vitya, you just need to want it hard enough.”
Victor is silent for a moment, thinking over Yakov’s words. Then, he shrugs again. “Well, you’ve always known my mindset on these kinds of things,” he says, smiling almost sadly. “If you don’t have any inspiration left, you’re as good as dead.” With that, he throws open the doors, shivering from the cold air.
“We are not finished!” calls Yakov. “Vitya, you get back here this instan–!” |
64dc91e141a24c1a9beafd287217867a | ['66f43939fdfe4b229df5c1202ff152e4'] | "Cute." Jungkook mumbled into Taehyung's ear. They stood together on an empty sidewalk, but Taehyung still felt as flustered as if he were standing in front of hundreds of people. "I haven't seen you dressed up like this before. It's amazing."
Taehyung wished he could hide his blush. "It's probably the only nice clothes I have," He tried to wave-off the compliment.
"And?" Jungkook let Taehyung's waist go, finally, only to take his hand and kiss his cheek.
Taehyung covered his face with his free hand, trying to hold in his laughing.
"Come on." Jungkook urged, tugging softly on Taehyung's arm. "Can't be late!"
* * *
Taehyung's eyes were wide like a puppy's.
Everything around him was either literally metallic gold or a shade of rich yellow and red. The lights were dim. He was surrounded with pure, unfiltered class.
Taehyung and Jungkook were seated at a table for two right beside a window in the front. They could see both ways down the street if they so wanted, watching the pulse of cars flow through the city.
It was definitely, as one would call it, aesthetic.
Taehyung ordered wine. _I'm gonna need some liquid confidence to make it through tonight un-embarrassed,_ he'd thought.
He wasn't technically wrong. When he saw the prices on the menu, he knew that totally-sober Taehyung would have blanched, made up an excuse about going to the bathroom, and escaped the building.
Wine-tipsy Taehyung confidently got himself a steak, and started playing footsie with Jungkook under the table. Wine-tipsy Taehyung was a very fun guy.
He also still knew when to keep his mouth shut, as an added bonus.
"Taehyung, what are your friends like?" Jungkook tilted his head. It reminded Taehyung of something, not too long ago. _Cute bunny boy!_
"They're nice." Taehyung thought for a moment, trying to think of friends outside of Jimin. He had to leave him out of the picture. "I hung around a lot of marching band kids. I was in drama too! That's like, a whole cast of usually automatic friends." He giggled. "There were some people in drama who absolutely hated each other. Usually they were the wannabe leads."
Jungkook smiled, just watching Taehyung go on and on about some girl rage-quitting because she didn't get a leading role. He reached across the table at one point to lace their fingers together.
Taehyung was happy. Playful, and energetic, and overwhelmingly happy. Just being with Jungkook made him happy.
* * *
"Minni- Park Jimin, get over here!" A relatively short man in a white button-up and slacks demanded. His expression was partially hidden by his bleached hair, but one thing was certain - he was really frustrated with a certain drunk Park Jimin.
"Yoongi, it's not beyond you to just sit and wait. You do it all the time at work." Jimin quipped back. He was staring into a window across from the street.
See, he was supposed to just let Yoongi drive him back home from the bar across the street of a fancy-ass restaurant. The sheer juxtaposition of the two made Yoongi laugh - one was for the no-lifes, and the other was for the guys at the top of the world.
It seemed Jimin longed for that. To be on top of the world.
Yoongi sighed in defeat, and flopped into the driver's seat of his car, watching Jimin carefully.
He was staring wistfully into that window across the street. It looked like his fists were clenched into tiny balls. And Yoongi hoped to fuck that... were those tears? _Christ_.
Concerned, he got up and out of his car again, and walked over to Jimin. The street was dark, he couldn't see Jimin's face very well, but it definitely seemed the poor boy was crying.
Yoongi did something he usually wouldn't do, ever, to any intern - he carefully took Jimin's hand, and walked him away, all the way to the car, and in a moment of pure instinct, patted Jimin's head.
_Jimin better be drunk enough to forget this._
Then, Yoongi remembered a message he received not too long ago.
He took another glace across the street, coming to a vague realization about the two figures in the window, and then:
_I have to tell Taehyung. As soon as possible._
* * *
Taehyung could only feel the hands roaming all over his body, only heard praises and soft kisses being placed on his neck.
Jungkook was all that he could think of. It was ecstasy.
His mind was fuzzy, but his body was very, very clear. Everything felt sort of surreal, like time just didn't exist for right now, in this exact moment.
Taehyung's back arched. A low moan escaped from his lips, only to be stopped by Jungkook kiss him in this desperate, hungry way.
Taehyung really wished he remembered a little more from last night. What he did remember was...
Really hot.
It was probably just before noon, seeing how the light shone brightly through the curtains. Taehyung couldn't stand his headache. He was never going to drink again - not just because he hated his hangover, but also because he severely regretted his lack of memory from yesterday.
Taehyung groaned incoherently, and shifted to his other side, where Jungkook was asleep beside him.
"Mmph." Taehyung poked Jungkook's bare side. "Wake up."
Jungkook did not wake up. Of course.
Taehyung rolled his eyes and groaned again, then struggled himself all the way on top of Jungkook. Yes, he was aware he was naked, which was a strange sensation, and he was also aware that his naked self all on display, sat on top of Jungkook's body, would be a strange thing to wake up to. Yet, Taehyung tried anyway.
"Jungkoooook. Wake uuuuup." Taehyung complained, pinching Jungkook's arm. Jungkook swatted his pinching hand away.
"You- hey! I just want attention..." Taehyung whined. | 5dba677a88fd43099eecba629c018d01 | ['66f43939fdfe4b229df5c1202ff152e4'] | And it was quite true. The hallway had one, single window. There was light pouring from around the hallway corner, so Yoongi supposed there might be one there as well as in the bathroom at the end of the hall, but he really hadn't seen much else.
Jimin pouted. "But it's cute, it's like a little hidey-hole."
Yoongi groaned. "You know what, you're right. I'm a sucker for hobbit houses."
Jimin chuckled. "Nerd. Oh, hey," Jimin suddenly disappeared down the hallway. "What's your preference? Espresso, frap, just a classic..."
"Dark roast with as many shots of espresso as I can get." Yoongi replied automatically, rattling off his classic order.
"Holy-"
"Yeah, I'm an insomniac eldritch god, I've heard it all, sometimes Seokjin tries to put less in on purpose but I can taste it without even sipping from the damn cup." Yoongi fumed.
Jimin peeped out from the other end of the hall again, now wearing a jacket that covered his palms. "How do you..." Yoongi shrugged. "I honestly drink the stuff like water. It might be a problem."
Jimin's eyes were wide. "Maybe you should try a frap today? Something less..." Jimin waved his arms, trying to express what he meant and kind of failing. "You know, insane."
"Pssh." Yoongi leaned against the doorframe. "I think if I didn't drink my psycho coffee I might actually become more crazy."
Jimin padded up to the door, Yoongi unmoving. "I guess that's alright," Jimin sighed and conceded. "But besides," Jimin leaned forward and whispered, "I like them crazy."
Then the boy giggled and slipped past a shocked Yoongi, and slowly descended the stairs. Yoongi's heart jumped into his throat.
In that moment, he noticed very minute details, the fact that there weren't any toiletries in the bathroom, and the fact that the sweet strawberry smell definitely wasn't food, and the strange, faint golden light under one of the two doors to his right.
He shook his head and blinked. It was, for the moment at least, gone.
"Are you going to come start the car? Or-"
"I left it unlocked. Don't worry, I'm coming." Yoongi creased his brows in light confusion, then closed the apartment door. Sighing unceremoniously, he bounded down the steps.
* * *
"Come on."
"No." Yoongi leaned back against the wall. They were in a small, cute cafe owned by two college students. Yoongi had talked to them multiple times, because he was pretty well-known as 'that guy who could drink a gallon of energy shots and might actually eat nails for breakfast' - and yes, this entire long-winded title had been said, on multiple occasions. He could confidently say that the profit _definitely_ wasn't just for paying off college.
Jimin whined, making puppy eyes. "Come _ooooon_."
"Why is it so important? I genuinely don't understand."
"You're going to _die_ if you keep drinking... that unspeakable brew." Jimin immediately tried to go from cute and pleading to grim and dark. It didn't work. Now the boy looked, if Yoongi was honest with himself, even more adorable. His nose was scrunched up and his eyebrows were pushed as far down as could be, but _god_ , his eyes were so cute and his mouth was still pouting and Yoongi felt his heart doing things in his chest-
_Aaaand you need to calm. Calm. Chill. You are cool and unwavering and savage._
Yoongi tried not to give in.
"Whatever. I'm gonna get the coffee." Jimin pushed away from the table, his face returning to normal. He gave a little _sigh_ as he turned to get in line.
He gave in.
"Wait!" Yoongi reached out and pulled the boy back by his hand, trying to ignore the jolt of heat he felt in his face. "I mean... whatever. Just... surprise me or something. But if you even-"
Jimin grinned and squeezed Yoongi's hand very quickly, before freeing himself and bouncing into the short line in the front of the building.
Yoongi groaned, leaning back and covering his face with his hand. Of course Jimin would do that, the flirt. Yoongi’s heart fluttered.
He shook his head in spite of himself, and reaching into his bag, lifted out his laptop. It hit the table with a decisive thud, and Yoongi cracked it open, the screen flickering to life. It was a black, battered old thing, but it worked as though it’d just been bought.
This, Yoongi was thankful for. Among other reasons, it _also_ didn’t lose connection to the internet randomly and delete his blog posts. He bitterly remembered his first P.C.
As he was losing himself in the paragraph he was tapping out…
_Day 674: Monotony_
_I’m sitting in my truck when I get a text. I’ve introduced Jimin a few days ago, right? Hm. Anyway, it’s from him. Maybe he’s coming onto me, but he has this air of mystery around him, okay? And I swear there’s something strange about him… something inhuman._
_It’s something with his eyes._
_I could never dream of getting it on picture. It always happens at the most inconvenient of times. But maybe I’ll get it sometime soon._
....when to drinks appeared in front of him.
“And for you, Yoongi - caramel frap with chocolate flakes and cream.”
Yoongi didn’t even register the drink, he only understood the absurdity of it. “...Pardon?”
“Caramel frap with cream and chocolate.”
“Are you insane?” Yoongi eyeballed the drink, and then looked up to see Jimin standing with his hands on the edge of the table, leaning. “What does it matter to you? Just drink it. Come _ooooon_ , I swear you’ll love it.” Jimin pouted.
“Shit,” Yoongi cursed under his breath. “Fine. But don’t be surprised when I have to go to the hospital when my head combusts from all the sugar.” Then he, bitterly, took his drink, glared at it, and took a sip.
“Hm?” Jimin cocked his head as Yoongi’s eyes blew open.
“Oh.” Yoongi looked down, in a combination of embarrassment and wonder. |
28a7875780c34f2194768d55707c3e61 | ['6744a4248f104a12ac266ca3c9b57331'] | Then, a red demon with White hair spoke through the microphone. He told the audience to look skywards to a hole in the roof where the red moonlight started to go through. He explained about how the blood moon was going to select to souls to bind them for eternity and Star watched, amazed.
Music started to sound. "ugr! Is the wrong piece of music!" Said Tom. And before he could go away, Star grabed his wrist and spoke " Is okay Tom I like the music."
"You do?"
"Yeah, is kind of creepy ,but I guess it's okay. I mean, this is the underworld, isn't it?"
"Okay. You want to, you know, to dance?" Asked a suddenly nervouss demon.
Star laughted softly. "Don't be nervouss, Tom. I came here to dance and, well, this is a ball and people are suppose to, you know, dance."
The demon smiled and offered her his hand. She took it and they started to dance.
Then, demons and monsters looked amazed at a misterious girl that had just entered the ball and who seemed nervouss. The "girl" was Marco Díaz and he didn't understood why everyone was staring at him.
For the demons, he was a pretty, misterious girl who had arrived alone, without a date, and some where planing to ask "her" for a dance. "Her" long, brown hair falling on her back, the dress suiting "her" perfectly, the rose on "her" hair and the heels making her look elegant, and the neckale and earings giving "her" a femenin touch.
But, that wasn't everything. "She" was also a demon.
"Her" pitch black and red eyes impressing some expectors , and "her" black bat-like wings, that were totally extended at the moment, amazed everyone.
Not all demons had wings, just a really tiny proportion, it was something very unusual and wanted, because, who doesn't want to fly? And "her" wings were not only useful but also beautiful, complementing "her" perfectly.
Also, her White fangs shined with the light when "she" smiled nervoussly. They weren't large fangs like most monster had, no, they were vampire-like fangs that seemed to go just right in her mouth. Her black claws, just as her teeth, were not big or scary, they were relatively short but Sharp, making them look dangerous, like tiny knifes.
And even more interesting was the skull mask she was wearing, that give her red eyes a really creepy and scary look, and ofcoursse, demons loved scary things.
All of that amazed the demons, who were already planning how to go near the "girl" and ask her for a dance.
While that happened, Marco was really nervouss and tried to stay calm. All those demons that could easily kill him where staring at him with expressions that he recognized as interest?
Then, Marco decided to search for Star which was not easy. There was a lot of people and he couln't concentrate with all the sudden whispering the demons were doing. What Marco didn't know was that the demons were talking about him.
He searched for Star and he finally found her dancing with Tom between more couples, in the center of the room.
The couples were the only ones who hadn't noticed his arrival, being too concentrated in dancing.
Star seemed really happy and Marco felt guilty for coming all of sudden to take her home. But, he pushed the guilt out and started planning how to get Star away from Tom without being killed by the demon.
While thinking that he had come closer to the couple and then, one of the other dancing couples pushed him in the back, sending him towards Star and her partner, where he crahsed with the princess of Mewni, making her take some steps back, surprised.
Marco was about to crash with the floor, having not recovered from the push, but Tom caught him by the wrist and helped him to stand again, Marco was still looking down when Tom grunted without letting go of Marco's wrist. "Urg! What do you think you're doing?! You pushed my date! Who are..." But them he stopped himself when Marco, still confussed, looked up, not knowing who was yelling at him.
What Tom saw was a pretty demon girl who looked confussed and a little scared. Apparently, Marco's new appearance was able to impress all demons, in a good way.
"You're...You're a girl."
Marco was thinking hard about what to do next, he didn't expect to get in that situation, so he decided to act as an ofended girl. He gulped and tried to seem confident, something that he actually was able to do, to his own surprise. "Ofcoursse I am!" He said in his sharper new voice. "What else would I be?!"
Apparently Tom bought it. " You're also a demon and..." Tom blushed a little. " Usually demon girls, or demons in general are not, well, pretty."
It was time for Marco to blush. Was Tom calling him pretty? Well, ofcoursse he didn't know who he was.
Marco decided to keep acting. " I guess so. I'm..." He said trying to search for a name. Then he remembered one of one of his aunts. "I'm Maria."
"Maria..." Repeated Tom.
Meanwhile, Star was looking at them in confussion, who was that girl? And she also noticed Tom had not let go of "her" wrist and that he was looking at her, impressed. Apparently he liked the girl, and Star felt happy that Tom had found someone else to like and that would return his feelings, because Star had noticed how the girl blushed. Star couldn't hear the conversation but knew what it was probably about. She smiled.
Tom was not a bad guy and deserved a pretty girl like the misterious girl. And Star had to admit she was really pretty for a demon.
Then, everyone fell in silence when the moon shined in Marco and Tom, bindimg them for eternity. | 794a965da9db41bfbc3153644670bc06 | ['6744a4248f104a12ac266ca3c9b57331'] | The next day, Marco woke up, got dressed, had breakfast ( apparently his parents didn't notice that he was out for a very long time) and went to school. They, Star and him, were walking down the street towards Echo Creek Academy when she finally asked about the previous night.
"Soooo.... What did you do? Where did you go?" The girl asked excitedly. Marco found himself wanting to tell her about the date, after all, it had been an amazing date. "Well, first we went to the Lava Falls and-" HE stopped himself when he remembered the moment when he fell to the floor, Star did´t need to know about that. Luckily, she interrupted him. "The Lava Falls?! I have always wanted to go there! But I can't, I would get roasted alive." "Yeah, and then we went to a lake with two fossilized trees and jewels and..." By the time they arrived to the school, Marco had toldStar a summary of the date, excluding the most personal moments and just telling her about the places they visited.
Marco went to his locker and to class, when he arrived to the classroom he saw Jannah and Jackie talking excitedly about something, seeing the blond girl made him nervous and somewhat confused. He had kissed Tom and he was pretty sure that he felt something for the demon, maybe even love, but it was still somewhat weird to see the girl he had had a crush on for years, he somehow still liked her in a way different to being friends. Seeing Jackie made his already confused feeling be even more confused. If that was possible.
So, trying to ignore the girls, he went to his desk next to the window and sat there trying to organize his things, something he usually liked to do, right then it just seemed boring. His demon wings, to which he had already grown used to, felt uncomfortable folded behind his back and pressed on the back of the chair, the surface was just too hard for the soft membrane of his members. He shifted on his seat uncomfortable not only with his currently invisible wings but also with his current state at the school as Maria.
Suddenly, someone slammed a hand on his desk and he looked up in surprise, it was Jannah, and behind her was Jackie Lynn Thomas, the main reason of Marco's doubts. "Sooo, Maria, are you ready for this afternoon?" Marco had to contain himself from face palming, _how could I forget about this?_ "Yeah, we are going to the mall, right?" He replied, trying to sound natural and to show a natural smile. Jackie didn't seem to notice anything wrong but Jannah narrowed her eyes at him for a coupe seconds and opened them suddenly, wide-eyed. She didn't say anything and just stared with wide eyes at Marco, looking him up and down.
_No, no, no, no. She doesn't know who I am, it must be something else._ Ignorant to the growing tension between the other two _girls_ , Jackie kept speaking "It will be just Jannah, you and me, the other girls cancelled because of some homework they haven't finish." Marco palled. _Homework? what homework?_ He had been so focused on Tom since the ball that he had forgotten about school. "What homework?" He asked and then noticed he had said it out loud, it was Jannah who answered. "Oh, you know, the writing production for Spanish." Marco sighed relieved, it was Spanish, he was good at Spanish, the best student in class. "You haven't done it?" Jackie asked growing. "I'll just do it later." The boy replied, and then he noticed that he was talking with Jackie without acting like a total idiot. After all, there was someone else who made him nervous and act like an idiot and that someone had pink hair.
Before the girls could said anything else, the teacher went into the classroom and the lesson started. Marco's thoughts went away from Tom and the mall for some hours. Lunch came and he stayed alone with Star while she asked him details about the Lava Falls and the Djinn dimension, which she had never visited. Th details weren't hard to tell, because Marco was good at noticing details and he had been specially focussed in details during the date, like which colors the jewels where, which colors the sky was int eh Djinn dimension, how where the rocks t the Lava Falls, how soft Tom's lips where... And that kind of stuff in which Star seemed to be very interested in (He didn't told her the last detail).
At last, school was over and Marco and Star were walking out of Echo Creek Academy when two girls on a skateboard stopped in front of them. "Maria, lets go to the Mall." Jannah said, and again Marco's thoughts were focussed on the mall. "I need to go to my, I mean, Marco's house and get my money." He had some savings he could use to buy clothes, he didn't know how long he would be a girl and he didn't like having only one thing to wear, even if he usually wore the same outfit. Maybe being a girl was messing with his head. Or maybe the incident at St. Olga's was. |
755cf7ec4f0c4d6ba13dc3a7c76d8e3c | ['6749b0821ba64d31a14340fc66a404f6'] | “Would it be alright if I kissed you?” Betty asked him, breaking through his thoughts. “It’s just that Veronica says that I can’t say that I have the feelings I do because we’ve never kissed, but I can and I do, but I want to kiss you because you make me smile and laugh -- “
Jughead cut her off, pressing his lips to hers tentatively. He pulled back and waits for her to open her eyes and when she does, she is smiling. She leaned in and joins their lips again. His hand is at her neck, thumb caressing her jaw and he wants to stay in that moment for as long as he can.
He doesn’t think it could possibly get better, until her tongue swipes at his bottom lip and he knows he is exactly where he was meant to be.
5. Chapter 5
** _day v : a song that needs to be played loud - Mr Brightside - the Killers_ **
Not long after Betty returned from her date with Jughead, Veronica came waltzing into her apartment demanding details. Betty was all too happy to oblige.
“You said I couldn’t possibly know if I had feelings for him because we’d never kissed.”
“No, I said you won’t know until you fuck him,” Veronica corrected.
“Well,” Betty started, trying to build the anticipation. “I didn’t sleep with him, but we did finally kiss.”
“I thought this was going to be juicy! You’re _ killing _ me, here!” Veronica said, dramatically flinging her arms in the air. “It was only a kiss!”
“Let’s just say, I don’t think we’re too far off from further exploration,” Betty said, biting her lip and thinking about all of the things she’d like to do with Jughead.
6. Chapter 6
** _day vi : a song that makes you want to dance - Footloose_ **
Betty was proud of herself. She was able to plan a date without Jughead finding out what it was going to be. She wanted to make it special for their six month anniversary. She’d remembered a one-off comment he’d said in their first few weeks of talking.
She told him to be at her apartment at two in the afternoon. She was already waiting by the door, anticipating his arrival. He was fifteen minutes early. Betty kissed the side of his mouth and grabbed his hand, pulling him back down the stairs toward the truck she borrowed from Archie.
“This isn’t your car,” Jughead stated matter-of-factly.
“Keen eye,” she teased, climbing into the driver’s seat.
They drove, leaving the crowded streets of Brooklyn for the country roads of Riverdale.
“Honey, I know you said you weren’t a serial killer, but if you don’t tell me where we’re going, I might start reconsidering that fact.”
Betty can hear the trepidation in his voice.
“You’ll see. I promise it’s worth it. We’ll be there in five minutes.”
They passed the sign that welcomes them to Riverdale and she made a few quick turns before telling Jughead to close his eyes - what was next was a surprise.
When Betty pulled into the Twilight Drive-in, there were only two other trucks. She was grateful for it, and upon further inspection, they were the trucks the Drive-in provided for extra seating. They were the only ones there for the last matinee movie. The previews had just started and she was filled with the warmth of nostalgia
“Okay, Jug. Open your eyes,” Betty said, her face a mixture of nerves and excitement.
She watched Jughead’s face, trying to gauge his response. He was quiet, but his jaw was slack.
“A drive-in? I haven’t been to one since I was a kid,” Jughead says, but it sounds like it was meant more for himself than for her.
“I remember,” Betty said, taking his hand and threading her fingers through his.
“You are incredible,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss her.
She hummed against his lips before pulling away and slipping out of the cab of the truck. Betty pulled the tailgate down and hopped into the bed carefully, waiting for Jughead to join her. She had it setup with pillows, blankets, a thermos each of coffee and all of his favorite snacks.
When he finally gets out of the car, he is standing and staring at her in awe. Betty patted the space next to her, urging him to join her. He climbed in carefully and plopped himself next to her; she immediately snuggled into his side.
He kissed her forehead gingerly and smiled against the skin. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”
“You made me cry in a crowded bar,” she teased again. “But, I’m really happy you did. Happy anniversary, Juggie.”
He kissed her again.
“What’s playing?” he asked as the music of the beginning of the film started. His face scrunched when he realized what movie it was.
“Footloose, really?”
“It’s a classic. At least for me. You’ve been showing me your classics, so now it’s time to show you mine.”
“You can show me yours whenever you want,” Jughead said lowly, his innuendo very clear.
7. Chapter 7
** _day vii : a song to drive to - I’m Not Okay (I Promise) - My Chemical Romance - _ ** _ a flashback vignette. _
_ Four months into their relationship and he fucked it up. That had to be a record for him. _
_ He told her no. She had gone out of her way, and he gave into the Jones Family mentality and told her no. That’s how he ended up in Archie’s truck driving down some highway he can’t remember the number of in New Jersey. _
_ “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He berated himself. _ | a4b069f317db424e8e02780ac1b1473f | ['6749b0821ba64d31a14340fc66a404f6'] |
Blow Your Sox Off
**Author's Note:**
> HAPPY KINK WEEK, RIVERBABES!
>
> This fic started in the Kinky Fucks Discord _weeks_ ago and its finally here!
>
> Special thanks to Fonsie for listening to me babble and second guess everything about this and for encouraging me and being the absolute best sounding board a gal could ask for.
>
> Thank you to Em and Tory for being amazing humans always and looking over this and making it better. I appreciate you both very much.
* * *
* * *
After the third night that week that Betty returned home late from work, meeting with players from the Boston Red Sox for interviews and a schmoozefest, Jughead was feeling discouraged. Logically, he knew his wife would never cheat on him, was so in love with him it would never even cross her mind — but the primitive, jealous caveman in his mind was trying to convince his logic otherwise.
Jughead and Betty Jones left everything they had ever known in the small town of Riverdale for the bustling streets of Boston. It wasn’t their first choice post-grad, but they decided together that they wanted a change from the life they had known the last twenty-five years.
They’d gotten married in the same yard they met in when they were only six years old. Fred and Mary Andrews were happy to oblige. But after all that town had given and taken away from them, it was time for a change — time to get away and see what they could really do on their own.
Betty had been offered a job at the Boston branch of CBS reporting on area sports from pop warner football to Major League baseball. She’d found a love of sports writing in college that she’d never known she’d had. She ran with the newfound passion, determined to make a name for herself in the male-dominated industry. It was something he admired her for, but sometimes visiting her and being around all that testerone got to his head.
It was after ten o’clock when their apartment door creaked open. He was up, as per usual, writing his latest novel and grading midterm papers for the College’s spring semester when she quietly snuck into their office and wrapped her arms around his shoulders planting a kiss to the side of his neck.
“Hello, my love,” she cooed in his ear, slowly drawing her finger across his shoulders.
“Another late night with the sportsball dudebros?” He asked, not trying to hide the disdain in his voice.
“You know it’s part of the job, Jug,” she sighed.He knew that it was, he did, but it didn’t mean he was happy about it.
Who would be happy about their wife hanging out with men who were paid to be ripped out of their minds athletic and _ rich _, when they were at home, writing a novel they would probably never get published and took a job teaching just so they didn’t feel like a worthless lump. He knew his wife was out of his league when they had met, well before they had even thought about dating.
Jughead Jones had always known that Betty Cooper was far too good for him and he was scared out of his mind that one day she was going to realize that.
Maybe that day was coming sooner than he had hoped.
Her hands were still at his shoulders and her grip tightened. He sighed deeply and pushed himself back from his desk, walking right past Betty and into their kitchen to grab another cup of coffee — if he was going to make any progress on this chapter, he was going to need the fuel. He heard the clack of her heels approaching him and he knew he needed to tell her what intrusive thoughts had been occupying his headspace. When the clacking subsided, his coffee began to drip into the empty porcelain cup. He turned around slowly to find his wife standing there, arms crossed.
“Listen, Jug. I know you’re not thrilled about me being home late, but—”
“It actually has nothing to do with that,” he cut her off. “It’s the fact that one day pretty soon, if it hasn’t already, you’re going to wake up and realize that I’m not what you deserve.” He watched as something changed in Betty’s eyes. It was a look he had seen before, one that usually sent a shiver up his spine and had his knees buckling.
“Now, Forsythe. Why one Earth would you think that?” Her voice was sultry, more so than usual. He swallowed thickly.
“Because it’s true. Because it’s always been true,” his voice echoed in the silence of their kitchen.
“That’s not any way for my good boy to talk, is it? We know that isn’t true, hmm.” She said, slowly stepping out of her shoes and kicking them to the side.
“C’mon, Betts,” he said, trying to resist her, but he knows that he can’t — he’s never been able to, especially not when she spoke to him so beautifully.
“Now, now Forsythe. I think you need a gentle reminder,” she stepped slowly toward him, never dropping his gaze.
He gave in to her, just like he knew he would. Was it so bad that he needed to be reminded every so often that his wife was completely in love with him? He didn’t think so.
She crooked her finger for him to follow her out of the kitchen, and without fail, he followed, like the good soul he was. He followed her down the hallway, his coffee long forgotten. Hopefully it wouldn’t overfill.
She ushered him into their bedroom and closed the door behind them, turning the lock even though no one else was in the house. She stayed by the door, surveying her husband; he could feel her eyes on him. |
5e8955743f6b49ebb1bef576b24c7284 | ['675c70e4a67e4a9a8916c09a0ff5c0a2'] | “Of course once you’ve reclaimed your grand kingdom,” The Master exclaimed jovially picking a bit of food from his teeth, “We can discuss a fair ‘price’ for our generosity.”
Thorin snorted silently, withholding a cringe, but nodded his head in agreement, to appease the leader of Laketown.
Thorin had always supposed that generous people didn’t seek out rewards for their good deeds.
The man was clearly self-serving and cared nothing for the welfare of the inhabitants of Laketown. And it was clear that the only reason he was helping the dwarves in the first place was because of the potential for a large gain.
But he was nothing like…
Thorin shook his head lightly to dispel the thoughts of bright hazel eyes and soft smiles.
But what did he know of men?
What did he know of anyone really?
What motivated a person to perform an act of service?
And as The Masater droned on, Thorin’s thoughts drifted to the hobbit, nestled in her blankets, sleeping peacefully.
But his heart pounded as worry niggled his brain.
****
Lyla was not sleeping peacefully.
Not by a long shot.
Her argument with Thorin had left her feeling far more wound up than she already was, making the nightmares far more potent than normal. She had imagined she was drowning again, but this time, Thorin had sat on the water’s edge and laughed as Azog attacked her.
She had woken up panting, muscles aching and head pounding.
Instead of even attempting to return to sleep, she sat in one of the chairs in the small bedroom and gazed out the window, stewing over the disagreement.
‘You can’t keep me here!’ She’d grumbled heatedly.
But Thorin had not listened. He had the audacity look considerate and compassionate as he replied that they were merely trying to take care of her.
‘We’re doing what’s best for you. Surely you can see that.’
And while her chest tightened at the notion that someone WANTED to take care of her (and yes she COULD see the genuine concern the company held for her), her ire rose at Thorin’s strange behavior.
How did he know what was best for her anyhow? He never bothered to ask!
Or listen for that matter. He believed that his methods were the only correct ones.
Did he really think he would keep her locked up in a room? That THIS was what was best for her welfare?
A better question rose in her mind then, would she really allow him to make that decision for her?
No.
No, indeed!
His heart may have been in the right place, but his head was muddled and confused. While she respected the arrogant, stubborn dwarf (and found comfort in his presence), she knew that Thorin didn’t fully understand who Lyla Baggins was.
She was a Took. And a Baggins. And as stubborn as they come.
With a firm nod of her head, she rose and headed towards the door ignoring the teacup and tray of food that her companions had brought up for her.
*****
“I’m leaving,” Lyla announced as she stepped gingerly down the stairs, wary of her still wobbly footing.
Dwalin, Fili and Kili’s heads shot up in surprise at seeing Lyla standing here.
“Why aren’t you resting?” Kili questioned confusedly setting his work on crafting a new arrow aside, “We gave you your tea. And where are Ori and Bifur?”
“They’re upstairs obviously,” Lyla remarked offhandedly as she thought of the two dwarves who were sitting outside her bedroom door like sentinels. “Ori’s working on updating his new journal and Bifur was carving…something. And of course I didn’t drink my tea,” She stopped at the railing a small smile on her face, “And I’m telling you what I told them. I’m going out. They didn’t seem to mind my decision, so neither should you.”
Dwalin had slowly risen to his feet, a flash of curiosity and amusement crossing his face. “Ori’s intimidated by ye, ye mean.”
He raised an eyebrow at Lyla who just shrugged her shoulders noncommittally and said nothing. It’s not like she had been rude to the sweater-clad dwarf. She’d only told him, quite firmly, what her plans were and the poor dear had gone completely tongue-tied, only capable of nodding his head in agreement.
And Bifur? Well Bifur had just grunted and winked at her before turning back to his carving.
“Why are ye so anxious to go lass? Ye are still on the mend. Ye should be resting,” Dwalin remarked patiently his eyes hooded.
“And I’m telling you, master dwarf,” Lyla stepped closer, unafraid of the warrior dwarf with his display of tattoos and grumpy demeanor, “I told you that I am going out. Just for a few minutes. I need the fresh air, the sunshine. I’m a hobbit. I need to feel the comforts of nature.”
She gazed up at him unabashedly, her look firm and steady, waiting…
A large, toothy grin spread on Dwalin’s face and he ruffled Lyla’s hair, “And I’d wager that ye’d want a bath as well.”
Lyla grimaced as flashes of her recent…adventures…shot through her mind. She wanted to be rid of the tainted feeling that crawled over her skin.
“Yes. A bath sounds lovely.”
Dwalin’s grin spread wider and he grabbed a hold of Lyla’s shoulders and touched their foreheads together gently, affectionately.
“Aye. I was wonderin’ when I’d see that stubborn streak come back lass. I’ve been missin’ it. Alright then, off ye go. There’s a bathhouse down in the shopping district. Ye’ll find what ye need to be taken care of.”
Lyla grinned and stepped back, her eyes alight in gratitude.
“But we can’t just let her go out!” Kili exclaimed horrified at the idea, his brown eyes widened in shock as he stared at Dwalin, “Uncle will kill us!”
“And she’s still ill,” Fili interjected, giving Lyla a pointed look, “Look at her flushed skin and the bags under her eyes. She needs to rest.” | e305587f528c4c02a21456d566731121 | ['675c70e4a67e4a9a8916c09a0ff5c0a2'] | “There’s something strange about all of this.” The spirit muttered more to himself than her, “And I cannot—I just don’t remember. Only flashes…“
He reached for the puzzle, fingers brushing against the golden eye at the same moment that Yugi reached up to touch the puzzle as well.
* * *
There was a searing pain that made both Yugi and the Spirit gasp. He spied the girl clutching her head briefly, a startled grunt escaping her lips.
“What is _that?”_
There was a roaring in his ears and he couldn’t tell how loud he was speaking, but it appeared that Yugi couldn’t hear him anyway.
His eyes watered as the pain intensified and he felt a static tickle at his fingers, a warmth spread through his body.
‘A key, eh? How fascinating. The little twin might be my salvation after all. Tell me Ak—‘
That voice…
And then it was gone, the pain and the voice.
He recognized that voice.
But just as quickly as it arrived, it disappeared. And with it, the pain.
The spirit hastily straightened and peered at Yugi, who slowly clamored to her feet as well.
And in her eyes he could see the spark of something.
_SHE_ knew that voice as well.
“What aren’t you telling me?” He demanded softly.
* * *
“We don’t have time for this. We have to—“
“Not so fast,” The spirit remarked, eyes clouding with concern. “There’s something else I need to ask you. Something I need to understand. Something you NEED to answer.”
Yugi remained silent, expectant and patiently waiting for him to continue.
“You see those images, don’t you, the one’s that flash through my mind.”
Yugi continued on in silence.
‘Don’t let him know’ Isis had commanded. ‘He cannot know yet.’
Did she trust Isis though? Or did she trust the spirit?
Did she trust EITHER of them?
“What aren’t you telling me.” He demanded, eyes narrowing. “What are you keeping from me?”
‘Do not let him’
What was Yugi supposed to say really? She couldn’t tell him the truth? But, then again, what WAS the truth?
“WHO is Isis.” The spirit hissed. “Remember I know your thoughts. HOW do you know this Isis? And why do they forbid you telling me what might be going on?”
He looked agitated, by Yugi’s estimation. Clearly this was a source of contention for him.
“I don’t know” was her reply to him. “I don’t understand any of this.”
That phrase was getting to sound rather bland to Yugi’s ears. It seemed she knew nothing, understood nothing. She was lost. She was confused.
But then again, so was he.
“Why do these images come to you? Why does that—“ The spirit cut off suddenly. “The puzzle is doing something.”
“Yes I think we’ve established that small bit of information at least,” Yugi replied somewhat exasperatedly. “What we don’t know is WHAT it’s doing and why. But that’s not important right now.”
“And why others are after you for it” the spirit supplied. “But it IS important. There are things happening, pieces of memory, I think, that are coming back.”
Yugi noted the glint in the spirit’s eyes, the furrow of his brow deepening with curiosity as he took another step towards her.
“We have to—“
“NO.”
Yugi’s voice was hard, or as hard as it could be, and she glared at the spirit, ignoring the trembling shivers that danced down her spine.
Another wave of pain seared her temples
‘I’ll have to do something about that. Can’t have two bearers now can we.’
There was a brilliant golden light, the searing heat of the sun on her face, and Yugi scrunched her eyes shut.
The images ceased.
“What did you see.”
“Nothing”
“Don’t lie to me, little one”
Yugi’s eyes snapped open, her heart beating angrily against her ribs, trepidation warring with anger.
“You cannot tell me what to do” She snapped. “I don’t have to answer you.”
“I know you don’t trust me,” He hissed in reply, “But I have a right now know what it is you saw.”
“You don’t have a right to anything. You took everything from me. My life was NORMAL before you. And then—“
“And then I came and protected you, you ungrateful little—“
“YOU hurt my grandfather!” She bellowed angrily, squaring her shoulders, “I can’t forgive you for what you’ve done to him.”
“I am not your enemy, Yugi,” He remarked angrily, “I am not going to harm you. Did I not make that promise to you? Did I not—“
“I didn’t ask you to hurt other people for me! I didn’t ask you to hurt HIM. He’s—“ Yugi faltered her face clouding, “He’s the only family…he’s the only one that understands me.”
She saw the images of her grandfather, of the man with the noose about his neck. She saw in her mind’s eye the reflection onto the Spirit’s gleaming, and excited expression. She saw the way he grinned, baring his teeth predatorily at the man who cowered before him.
She saw the way her grandfather had looked at the spirit, the suspicion and hesitancy in his gaze.
She saw all of this through the spirit’s mind.
And it did nothing to ease the tension she felt in his presence.
“I didn’t ask for this life—“ the spirit spat in return, eyes blazing. “I didn’t asked to be trapped in that—that thing. And I did everything I could to help you. The only way I knew how. But I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I want my life back.” Yugi remarked, anger fleeing from her, the familiar sensation of defeat washing over her, mingling with remorse and exhaustion.
She was never one to enjoy fighting, never one to provoke anger.
And part of her understood the spirit’s plight. She could see the frustration swirling in his eyes, his eyes that were so much like hers.
But so different than hers. |
4a60624b2ffd48629e8abece79916e54 | ['675e6563140f4e09a79b56391e37515a'] | Thomas didn’t like it, but of course he hadn’t the right to tell her so. When she had drunk a little too much, she was being a bit loud, saying either silly or angry things, as any other one did in that state. Good enough a reason for a concerned friend to be on his guard, but in Cyril’s case there was in addition the risk that she revealed a bit too much, that she gave away a compromising clue about herself. By luck, she was so deeply convinced she was a male to the core – or was trying so hard to convince her so – that there was really little chance she let out any clue that she was a bit… different.
Yet, Thomas was keeping a vigilant eye and ear on his young master whom, in this bordering piteous state she had put herself into, he couldn’t help but think also as his _charge_.
But the three friends were just nicely proposing and drinking toasts to their general, to the princes, to the Dauphin, to the Dauphine, and so one. Some of the other patrons were joining in, even though they obviously found them loud and out of place with their shining embroidered uniforms and powdered wigs, and agreed to drink to the honour of these young princes who were the future of the kingdom.
“Look at these fine gentlemen…” a more bitter old souse let out in a rough drawling voice, “they may well be all bewigged and delicately powdered and perfumed, yet those decorative pretty officers, as high born as they are, they are no different from us once they’ve had a few too many.”
Cyril seemed to hear this and started to get up from her chair, but Grès gently held her back by the elbow, to calm things down.
“Sit down, Crolet,” he sniggered, giggling a bit, “the poor guy is just boozed to core. Don’t mind him.”
But another patron, a giant sandy-haired beefcake built like a tank, had heard the souse: “No different, sure,” he parroted, “and certainly no better.” Then the giant turned to the rest of the customers: “Who, here, believes those youngsters are better than we are?”
Some sounds of approval responded to his rhetorical question.
“Never said we were…” a tipsy and flushed Cyril let out, with a slightly growling voice.
“Not better, maybe,” a third customer pointed out to the beefcake, “but certainly better-looking than yourself!”
A burst of laughter roared in the tavern, as now everyone there had their attention caught by the budding incident. This bit of humour seemed to deflate it, though, and all patrons went back to their drinks and card games.
All but one: “Better-looking, indeed,” a brown-haired middle-aged man said stepping closer to the Royal Guardsmen, “and particularly this one,” he added putting his right hand under Cyril’s chin and tilting her head back to take a better look at it. “Look at this porcelain doll! Isn’t he a cutie pie? A real eye candy, this young ephebe…”
Cyril cringed. Thomas slowly rose from his seat but before he could try to reason the drunk man, she stood up abruptly, and with an incredulous yet angry look on her face, she exclaimed _“EPHEBE?!”_
While Thomas gently dragged the mocking patron as far as possible from his master’s table, restraining himself from angrily yanking him away from Cyril, Bellasis slowly rose from his stool to gently take her by the elbows and make her seat down, calming her with a few words carefully said in a soothing low voice:
“Easy there, Grand-Tamme, calm down. There a worse insults than this one, believe me…”
Things quieted a bit. Thomas led the man to a nearby chair and made sure his friends occupied him by playing cards and diverted his mind from teasing the androgynous young officer.
Cyril’s friends too were doing their best to clear the air, and rein in their impetuous young fellow guard.
Grès suddenly had an idea to soften things: “Drinks all round!” he announced, “my round, gentlemen!”
And like in any pub or tavern everywhere else in the world, this announcement was greeted with cheers and applause from all over the room. Thomas secretly praised Mr Grès’s quick thinking and understanding of human’s functioning.
“And these ones, gentlemen,” Grès then went on, “are in honour of His Majesty King Louis the Fifteenth!”
But the mood was not to toasting anymore, and least of all to the now less popular old king.
_So much for Mr Grès’s perspicacity_ , Thomas thought.
Several growls or protests erupted here and there, and the first souse spoke again:
“I’d rather not drink to that, _your_ _Lordship_. So thank you but no thank you.”
Bellasis, Grès and Cyril looked both unbelieving and scandalised.
“You refuse to drink to the king?” Bellasis asked, aghast.
“I do. And although I’m not rolling in money, quite the contrary indeed, I still can afford for having my own opinion. So thank you for the offer, but I can pay my own drink, sir.”
And putting his money where his mouth was, the man tossed a coin to the bartender and turned back to his glass.
But an inebriated and still heated Cyril rose from her chair – again! – and slowly headed to the boozer.
_No, no, no, Cyril, don’t!_ Thomas silently begged.
“Does that mean, sir,” she asked him, “that winebags feel entitled to have an opinion on his Majesty?”
The lush snorted. “Look who’s speaking!” he told her.
Truth be told, she wasn’t feeling really clear-headed herself. But she wasn’t to let him have the last word.
“Bite your tongue, sir!”
“Enough with hushing and keeping quiet!” a soberly yet elegantly dressed young black-haired man cut in.
“You dare disapproving of the king, sir?” Bellasis asked him. | 5e7ef225792342f2bf52c8ca5a98780a | ['675e6563140f4e09a79b56391e37515a'] | And within Victoria's earshot! Oh dear, for a split second he had forgotten about that! He glanced at her, hopeful that from where she was she didn't hear him: he wanted her to have a better opinion of Diego, to see him in a new light, and certainly not to hear a renewed confirmation of the boy's flaws!
Then he saw her suddenly straighten bolt upright when at the same time her face brightened cheerfully and her eyes lit up, as if something she had been waiting all day for had finally happened. Alejandro followed her gaze: Diego had just crossed the threshold, with Felipe in tow.
Don Alejandro barely stopped himself from rubbing his hands in glee. Victoria could rave on and on and as much as she wanted about Zorro, but she sure was glad to see his son.
Diego immediately spotted his father and Doña Araceli cosily seated together, one-on-one. Well, not really one-on-one: Leonor was there, too.
"Will you let me steer your horse on the way home, Papá?" she was asking their father.
"Wouldn't you rather ride back in Mamá's carriage?" Alejandro replied.
"No," she answered resolutely. "Oh, please, Papá, pleeeease!"
She tried her puppy eyes on him, but she didn't master it yet.
"No, because anyway I will probably go back home a bit late," Don Alejandro told her. "I have things to do here in the pueblo. You'll go home with Mamá. Or with Diego and Felipe if you–"
"DIEGO!" the little girl said, interrupting her father, "Did you ride here on horseback?"
Araceli laughed at her eagerness.
"Uh... yes I did," he answered.
"What's your horse's name? Will you let me ride him and steer?"
"Leonor, stop bothering Diego," Araceli told her.
The girl pouted a bit, and Alejandro smiled at them:
"She sure has a gift for horse-riding. She certainly didn't take after her mother in that area," he added in a teasing voice, an impish glint in his eyes, glancing mischievously in Señora Valdès's direction.
"Ha, ha, ha, very funny," Araceli sarcastically commented. "I'll have you know I've made much progress since then..."
"I agree, I agree," he told her, "but don't ruin the fun of my memories..."
She let out a gentle sigh and had a small self-derisory smile:
"You won't ever let me forget this, will you?" she asked him rhetorically.
He grinned.
"Not a chance, my dear."
And indeed, he fondly remembered...
42. Ch 42 - Pride comes before a fall
Again, Alejandro's memories came back to the forefront of his mind...
z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z
_In order to honour Doña Araceli for giving up the splendid mare to his benefit a few weeks earlier, the next time he had to go to San Diego for business Alejandro took Dulcinea instead of his usual horse. And, he reflected, it would also be a good test to see how the spirited young mare behaved on a long-distance journey._
_His lawyer admired the animal, and some patrons at the tavern he was staying in recognised it as one of Señor Alvarez's horses, an offspring of his superb stallion Toboso. Some of them even knew who had bought the stallion, and wondered why this mare now was with a stranger from Los Angeles..._
_As soon as he arrived in San Diego, Alejandro wrote a few messages for his acquaintances there to make them know of his arrival in town and of his coming visit to them. He then called a young boy who was passing by the tavern's porch:_
_"Hola, muchacho!"_
_"Me, Señor?"_
_"Si. Do you want to earn a few centavos?"_
_"Oh, si Señor! Always!"_
_Alejandro chuckled. The child was more or less Felipe's age, and his eagerness reminded him of the young deaf-mute boy._
_"How old are you, niño?"_
_"Ten years old, Señor," the child answered. "But I will soon be ten and a half!" he emphasised._
_The older man raised an eyebrow in sign of appreciation._
_"Well then, young Señor, do you know Jorge Alvarez? Si? Good, this message is for him," Alejandro told the boy while giving him a folded sheet of paper. "And do you know where Don Julio Casal's hacienda is? Yes? This one is for him. And Señora Ximénez de Valdès?"_
_"The Ximénez Company, Señor?"_
_"Si. Here's a note for her. And another one for Don Luis Nuñez, if you know where his office is. Will you remember it all, muchacho?"_
_"Si Señor: Alvarez the horse trader, Don Julio, the Ximénez Company, and Señor Nuñez's office."_
_"That's it," Don Alejandro told him. "Now here's for the trouble..."_
_And he took his leather purse out of his jacket to give the boy more than the few centavos he had promised._
_"Oh, gracias Señor, muchas gracias," the child said as he looked at the coins in awe. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Excelencia?"_
_Alejandro chuckled again._
_"Not for the moment, niño. What's your name?"_
_"Pedro, Excelencia."_
_"Then go, Pedro. Hasta la vista!"_
_"It will be a pleasure, Señor!" the boy said as he left._
z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z
_"Thank you for the invitation to have a business lunch at your hacienda, Doña Araceli," Alejandro told Señora Ximénez de Valdès after the usual and customary greetings._
_"Oh, you're welcome. Since I couldn't invite you for dinner tonight, that was the least I could do for a good business partner, and a good friend!"_ |
db512a60897d4b608ac527dd06951b77 | ['6769ab3dbf34495fa848f63fcedbea6f'] | Trevor is leaned against Ians shoulder, quite by choice. He’s playing with the loose buttons of Ian's jacket and it’s making Ian's already unstable breath hitch. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to look at Jess’ friend that was just dancing on him for 5 bucks not even 30 minutes ago. So much for first impressions, right?
Ian found himself curled up in Jess’ bed half naked, no one next to him when he woke up. It doesn’t take much of him to spot Jess, who’s making what he assumes is eggs in her small kitchen. He sits up and stretches like a cat, getting used to the morning light that’s peaking through the curtains.
“Morning, sleepyhead.” Trevor sounded from the couch he slept on, stretching himself. His eyeliner was messy and he was clad in just his shorts again, this time accompanied by a blanket slung over his shoulders.
“Mornin.” Ian responded back, trying his best to rub the sleep out of his eyes.
Jess came through, attempting to balance multiple plates of eggs and toast on her tippy toes. Ian laughed, getting up to help her.
“That’s breakfast.” She said almost proudly, pulling her shirt back up onto her shoulder after it had slid down.
Ian nodded a Thanks, he really was starving. And very hungover. Jess seemed to feel the same, sitting right next to him on the bed to eat.
“Want any?” Ian offered to Trevor, who was still on the sofa across from them.
“Nah, I got my own breakfast.” He waved Ian off nonchalantly, digging into his bag he brought from the club he works at. Ian just assumes he had brought a granola bar or something for himself. He was quite surprised after looking up to see a few moments later.
Trevor was busy filling a needle with what Ian assumed to be heroin, he wasn’t paying much attention to Ian's eyes on him as he flicked the now prepared needle. Now, Ian grew up with Frank and Monica as parents, so this definitely wasn’t the first person he has seen shoot up in front of him before. And yes, Jess said he was a ‘total junkie’ in passing but it still threw him a little off guard.
Trevor sucked air through his teeth as he slowly began to shoot the heroin up into his vein. It’s like clockwork for him now, he woke up needing a fix like he does every day. He slinks back into the couch cushions behind him and sighs, he doesn’t get high as he used to but it brings a wave of calm over his body. He locks eyes with Ian, who was staring. Not rudely, but definitely not used to seeing Trevor do these activities. After all, they just met yesterday.
“That’s my breakfast.” He confirms for Ian and Jess laughs at the remark, giving him a fond look. Ian just nods, he knows that now.
fin;
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This is just a very short lil update and my way of introducing y’all to all the main characters in this fic so we can get that out of the way. (And if you were wondering, Jess is an OC.) | 2f1f8624b1e344d0af2a919626d80439 | ['6769ab3dbf34495fa848f63fcedbea6f'] | “You alive?” Chris asks sounding breathless. He definitely forgot to breath down there if he was being honest.
“I think.” She sounds just the same as him, trying to level out her breathing to a normal speed. She can feel his boner on her thigh when he shifts to get something from the bedside table.
A condom. Ashley didn’t even know they had any but was glad that they did, at least he was prepared for one thing. It made her wonder how much Chris was anticipating for this to happen, his body language and attitude told her enough of that story. He sat back onto his heels to take off his shirt, then rips the condom package with his teeth in a quick motion.
“You sure you’re ready?” Ashley found the question comforting and sweet but god, it couldn’t be any more obvious what the answer was.
“Yes...c’monn.” Ashley did the honors of taking off her panties herself as if Chris needed anymore clarification. Ashley watched Chris nod once before pulling down the waistband of his boxers to put on the condom.
“Can you even see what you’re doing?” She asked him not trying to sound teasing but it ended coming out like that anyway. Chris makes a face at her that she can’t help but laugh at, she takes it as a ‘maybe’ and sits up to help him.
Chris easily could’ve done it himself, he’s not that blind. But he’s also not going to complain about Ashley touching him.
“There...” Her voice wavered unintentionally, the nervous feeling coming back to her.
“It’s okay.” He rubs her shoulder before pushing her down gently, like he’d break her if he pushed her too hard. She nods slowly while letting him come between her legs, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling his face close. Chris shuffled around for a moment before anything happened, then he was pushing into her.
“Oh, Ash.” He breathed into her neck, her hair tickling the side of his face. He didn’t expect that to feel so good so fast. Ashley moaned and moved her hips up as much as she could with the energy she had left, shaking when Chris’ hips met hers and kept going.
It was slow. Because if he went any faster, he was convinced he’d cum right then and there. Tight was understatement to describe how she felt. The only sounds in the room for a while was heavy breathing and the bed creaking every now and then.
“Fuck. Fuck me.” Ashley cursed between gritted teeth, her grip tightening on Chris. She rarely swore, so it was even hotter under these circumstances.
“Already am..” He could barely get that out without feeling like he was going to explode. His hips stuttered every time she moved her hips up to meet with his own. Ashley cupped his face and pulled him closer to catch his lips. Immediately it was a game of tonsil tennis, a very messy one. Now they had an actual rhythm going on, not an inch of space between them.
“I’m - fuck..ing shit.” He was so close that he couldn’t just stop right now. He picked up the pace a bit making Ashley gasp audibly, her own orgasm starting to creep up on her.
“Chris, Chris. Chris.” Ashley moaned sounding more needy with every word. Neither of them were trying to be quiet, it was the last thing they were focused on. That’s all he needed to be pushed over the edge, putting all his weight onto Ashley under him when he came.
“Fuck....” Chris groaned, feeling a huge rush of pleasure that made him dizzy. Ashley loosened her grip on the other’s shoulders, having no clue how tight she was holding onto him. He probably had bruises there now. She was so close that a part of her didn’t want to let go, desperate to chase her own orgasm.
Chris lifted himself up with shaky arms and pulled out, a thin layer of sweat all over his body that made his thighs stick to Ashley’s.
“Chris... I’m so close.” She panted out, hoping he’d get the memo without having to explain. Chris carded his hands through his hair, having to squint to make out Ashley’s fucked out state.
“Ah, oh shit. I’ll...” His voice trailed off as he traveled down her body, hovering between her thighs. At this point, his mind was on autopilot and he didn’t have any time to be nervous or hesitate. He grabbed at her thighs, spreading them a little farther and buried his nose in closer to start to eat her out.
Ashley whimpered and rolled her hips into his tongue, taking anything she’ll get. Her hands flew to his hair, tugging impatiently. Her body was practically screaming for release.
Chris wasn’t sure what he was doing down here but it didn’t seem to matter as Ashley was cumming seconds later, her thighs shaking and tightening around his neck. For a second Chris thought this was how he was going to die: Head crushed between Ashley’s thighs - but eventually her body slowed and relaxed, almost going completely motionless.
“......Chris?” Ashley asked after catching her breath, poking his forehead with her finger.
“Hm?” The other responded from below, head resting on one of her thighs sounding completely wiped.
“Come up here.” She yawned and outstretched her arms so they touched the headboard, looking like a cat.
Chris complied after taking a generous amount of time trying to tie off the condom due to how shaky his hands were, but he did it eventually earning a half hearted cheer from Ashley. They both escaped under the covers of his bed and Ashley wasted no time cuddling up to him, falling asleep less than thirty seconds later. That was the first time Chris ever heard her snore and he was _definitely_ going to tease her about it later.
**Author's Note:**
> Strawberry Shorty..... my boyfriend made me do it. Don’t @ me |
da408277c72a405f80936ec07d966491 | ['67804f7c1797418eb170fc80ff742f2e'] | “Actually, there’s something else I’d like to try,” April said. She was hesitant about asking before, since Splinter almost always confined Starfire to the lair, but now that they were here alone, it was the perfect opportunity.
~
“Mikey, careful around that vat of mutagen!” Leo warned his brother, who was currently balancing on a catwalk railing. The orange-banded turtle was easily taking out Kraang after Kraang with his nunchuks. However, the combined weight of the turtle and increasing number of robots was causing the platform to shudder with every step.
“Trying to, bro!” Mikey called back. “These guys won’t stop weighing this thing down.” Many of the Kraang were rising up the steps to the catwalk to get a vantage point on the turtles. Leo realized many of the Kraang on the floor level were directly below the catwalk and he formulated a plan.
“Mikey, cut the wires holding the platforms and get up high. Donnie, Raph! Follow my lead!” His brothers were fighting another group of Kraang on the other side of the warehouse by a large metal storage container. They ducked behind boxes stacked against the wall and turned to watch their leader.
Leo leaped into action. With a few sweeps of his swords, he took out Kraang that fired from near the mutagen vat. Dodging lasers, he ran under the catwalk as the remaining group followed him. Suddenly, the platform above began shaking violently. The remaining wires that Mikey hadn’t cut with his kusarigama snapped from the tension and the platform fell square on the Kraang. Leo, who stood on the other side of the fallen platform, called out to Mikey.
“Good work, Mikey! Now cover Raph and Donnie too!”
“On it!” Perched on pipes lacing the ceiling, Mikey clambered across to where his brothers were repeating Leo’s tactic. They ran circles around the Kraang and drove them like cattle into a condensed group.
Mikey followed his brothers’ movements and took out the wires as they went along. A laser unexpectedly fired past his head. Mikey turned to see a lone Kraang aiming a laser gun at him from the end of the platform. Rushing at the Kraang, Mikey tossed the chain of his nunchuk. The robotic arms were locked to its body, still gripping its weapon. Before the Kraang could struggle, Mikey struck it with a swinging kick to the side, sending the enemy flying off the rickety catwalk. The Kraang spun through the air as Mikey’s chain unraveled itself. Disoriented, the brain continued to fire the weapon sporatically, lasers spraying through the air.
After Mikey dispatched the last of the Kraang with one last fallen platform, Donnie observed the falling Kraang. His forehead wrinkled when a laser blast struck the facet of a container that was mounted to the upper wall. The desperate brain attempted to leap from its robotic body. However, its efforts were in vain as the suit crashed to the floor, but the brain fell with a plop into the open vat of mutagen. A trickling sound drew Donnie’s gaze upwards and his eyes widened in horror. The broken facet was leaking. The substance within the container flowed down into the mutagen vat. From a distance, Donnie could make out large warning labels on the container.
“Oh no.”
By now, the rest of the ninja clan had noticed the chemical reaction. The mixed solution began frothing, nearly overflowing the open top.
“Uh, Donnie? What’s happening to the mutagen?” Leo asked, his voice strained. The mutagen alone was hazardous enough, but anything mixed in with it could be catastrophic. They might have disposed of the Kraang from this facility, but leaving the chemicals, and whatever creature the Kraang mutated into, in the open would be beyond dangerous for the innocent civilians of New York.
“It’s reacting to the radiation that fell in.” Donnie briefly explained.
“Radiation? Wouldn’t that make the mutagen more reactive?” Raph speculated. He was no scientific genius, but even he knew that liquid radiation was never a good thing.
Donnie opened his mouth, but was interrupted by a screeching sound. An enlarged tentacle flopped over the edge of the container. More followed and a glowing body pulled itself out of the mutagen and tumbled to the floor. The guys backed away quickly to avoid getting hit with the splatter of chemicals. They gasped in horror.
The Kraang had grown to a size larger than Dogpound. Its face drooped as if it would melt off any second. The main body glowed the eerie mutagen green. The tentacles whipped about and secreted the frothing chemical mixture. Its piercing eyes traveled about until it spotted the turtles. A sound similar to chalk scraping on a blackboard emitted from its mouth. It lunged for the boys.
“Move!” Leo ordered. He and his brothers wasted no time in evading its tentacles. Despite its lack of legs, the Kraang was able to skid across the floor after them by sliding along the secreted chemicals. The floor began deteriorating under the radiation. The nearest doorway was that of the metal containment unit.
“Everyone, get through that door! I’ll distract it!” Leo threw his arm backward and released a smoke bomb in the monster’s eyes. It squealed and withdrew its tentacles momentarily. Mikey raced through the enlarged door first, followed by Donnie, then Raph. The red-banded turtle slammed the door shut and locked it as soon as Leo came through. Not a moment later, the Kraang’s body slammed into the wall, causing it to shudder.
“Donnie, how long will that hold?” Leo inquired.
“The container should hold for a while since its made of a resistant metal, but there’s no way out of here.”
He was right. They were trapped in the container with no other exit. The only way to leave was past the radioactive Kraang on the other side of the door.
“What now, Leo? How are we supposed to get out of this one without getting burnt alive by that Kraang?” Raph demanded. | 982cc5682c3f48109a2803f4d37fe91c | ['67804f7c1797418eb170fc80ff742f2e'] | “I understand. Now let us defeat this creature.” April pushed the window open. Starfire flew in and held it open for April to crawl through. She ducked behind the nearby crates and nodded to Starfire.
Starfire flew next to the vat of mutagen and threw another cautious glance at it. She fired starbolts at the Kraang and it whirled around to face her.
“Leave them alone! Come and get me, you plorbnerb!” she insulted the creature. It wriggled its body across the floor and went after her instead. She drew it to the other end of the warehouse and dodged its thrashing tentacles as best as she could.
April hopped in the seat of the forklift, grateful that the keys were left in the ignition. She shifted the gear and pressed her foot down on the pedal. The machine jolted forward and she gripped the wheel. Directing the machine towards the pool of chemicals, she saw the metal door open. The guys recoiled at the vast amount of chemicals, but their faces lit up at the sight of April speeding a forklift directly at them.
“April! Awesome timing!” Mikey called out.
“Careful around the chemicals! It might splash up on you!” Donnie warned her.
“I’ve got this! I think,” April said to herself. She drove the forklift into the pool. The chemicals began eating away at the tires and April was losing momentum and control.
“Come on! Go straight, you hunk of junk!” The forklift swerved momentarily, but April managed to crash the elevated forks directly into the doorway. She backed machine up towards one side of the warehouse so it wouldn’t fill the frame of the large doorway. The boys leapt to the top of the forklift one by one. When Donnie was on the roof, he reached his hand to the driver’s side.
“Thank you for the rescue, milady,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” she laughed. She accepted his hand and he pulled her away from the chemicals that were starting to deteriorate the forklift itself. Lifting her into his arms, Donnie leaped towards the pile of crates where his brothers were watching Starfire fight the Kraangium. Using her starbolts and several well-placed punches, Starfire had struck away large chunks of the blob, as it was now truly beginning to fall apart.
“She’s keeping it distracted, so let’s all get out of here while we can,” Donnie suggested.
“Not yet. We still need to beat that thing,” Leo reminded them.
“And how do we do that? Starfire’s the only one that can hit it,” Raph said.
“Kraangium’s not going to hold out much longer against her. He’s going to pop at any second and it’ll be really messy when he does,” Mikey commented.
“Then we need to put him someplace where we can’t get splashed when he does fall apart. Everyone, draw Kraangnium towards the storage unit we were hiding in. Once he’s in there, then we can take him out for good,” Leo ordered. He turned to April as the the guys took off.
“You’ve done your part. Get out through that window and wait for us outside,” he said, pointing to said window directly behind them. April sighed.
“Fine, but be careful, Leo.” He rested a hand on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile, which she returned. They parted and April climbed through the open window to safety.
The boys surrounded Kraangium from all sides and he noticed. Removing himself from Starfire’s assault, the mutated brain dove to one side, going after Raph. He was perched atop a platform and barely had time to dodge the oncoming tentacles. He tried running along the platform, but found he had nowhere to go, for the floor below him was coated in radiation. With Kraangium closing in on him, he raised his sai, ready to fight until the end.
Starfire dared not fire a starbolt, unless she wanted to risk burning her friends. Instead, she flew to Raph’s aide. She managed to grip a tentacle that was going directly for him, but Kraangnium took the opportunity to grip her around the waist. He seized and pulled her out of the air with a cry. She was slammed into the wall, her back now throbbing in fresh pain. Another tentacle wrapped around her throat, squeezing the breath out of her.
“Leave her alone!” Raph snarled. He and Donnie rushed in from both sides and sliced the tentacles with their weapons. Starfire gasped for breath and coughed while Raph placed his hand on her shoulder. Donnie swept the remaining tentacles off the platform with his naginata. Before Kraangium could charge at them again, throwing stars struck his back. What was left of the Kraang turned to face Mikey and Leo.
“This way!”
“We’ve got some nice and tasty brain food over here!”
Their taunts infuriated the creature and he wriggled his mess of a body after them. Once they were clear, Donnie explained the plan to Starfire as she caught her breath.
“Starfire, we need to get that Kraang into the containment unit we were in earlier. Once he’s there, fire a starbolt directly at his center and shut the door. He should deteriorate and fall apart from that kind of energy blast. Can you do that?” Raph helped her to stand and Donnie carefully pulled the makeshift bandage off her back by the corners. It was melting and the last thing Starfire needed was her wound taking longer than necessary to heal. She winced when he removed it, but held her composure. The skin was still pink as expected, but luckily none of her blisters reopened.
“Yes I can. Keep it disoriented so it will not grab me again,” she said determinedly. |
a9f527abe8024bff8c0297a64468a727 | ['67865744d5fd48db87645bc040fc7afa'] | Otabek finally landed in Russia. His flight was short, but he wasn’t a big of traveling. He collected his belongings and decided to pull out his phone. He had a text message from Yuri letting him know the younger male was going to take a nap. Otabek smiled knowing that his Russian boyfriend was thinking about him before he read the second text message he had from Viktor. Otabek quickly headed out to where Viktor said that he and Yuuri were waiting.
“Otabek, over here!!” both Viktor and Yuuri yelled and waved at the other man. Otabek gave a quick nod and headed their direction to the car. ‘ **Soon, Yura, Soon. I will be there’** Otabek thought as he placed in luggage in the trunk and now was in the car on his way to Yuri’s apartment.
They were almost to Yuri’s apartment when Viktor reached back and held a silver key to Otabek. “Yuri hasn’t been responding to any of my messages, which means he still napping like I told him to do. Here is the spare key to his apartment~” the silver haired smiled when Otabek took the key from his hands. “I expect it back before you leave~” he hummed before turning his attention back to his husband who was still driving.
Yuri was stirring ever so slightly as he tried to will himself to sleep for a little bit longer. He would have gone back to sleep if it wasn’t for the noise at his door. He sat up quickly and rubbed his eyes when he heard the door creaked open.
While still half asleep, Yuri slowly walked down the hallway and yawned when he entered the living room. By now Otabek had set down his bag and took in Yuri’s appearance. The blonde was wearing one of Otabek’s favorite band shirts that he assumed was lost for good. It was too big for the blonde and his hair was trying to come out the messy bun it was placed in. However, Otabek couldn’t help but smile and think the love of his life was the cutest thing ever waking up in his t-shirt that was showing off the other’s beautiful pale shoulders. “Yura” Otabek finally said as Yuri didn’t see the other in kitchen staring at him.
“Beka?” Yuri managed to get out before he ran to the other and pulled him into a tight hug. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Otabek chuckled as he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s neck “I’m here to be with you all weekend”
Yuri blushed. “You should have told me, asshole.”
“It wouldn’t have been much of a surprise if I did”
“You’re still an asshole. I could have picked you up and look more presentable”
“I think you look really cute in my t-shirt”
Yuri took a step back and looked surprised. He had forgotten that he slept in a shirt he took from Beka….a shirt he didn’t tell Beka he took. A blush swept Yuri’s face once again. “Fuck.” he said as he looked at his attire.
Otabek smirked “Speaking of my clothes, Yura, how many did you actually take two months ago?”
Yuri groaned and looked embarrassed that he was caught “Shit. I really don’t know. I just…Fuck….I just couldn’t help myself, Beka. I just knew that I wanted them to remind me of you. I think I might have went overboard.”
“You think?” Otabek asked still smirking at the other.
However Yuri looked back down “I’ll go change” he stated as he turned away from Otabek.
Otabek took a step forward and wrapped his arms around Yuri’s waist pulling him closer. “No Yura. I wouldn’t have it any other way. You look beautiful just the way you look tonight” he said as he placed gentle kisses on both of Yuri’s exposed shoulders before slowly kissing up the other’s neck.
Yuri groaned and then giggled “Beeeeka” before Otabek turned the other around for them to share in the tasting of each other in a slow but passionate kiss.
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you for reading!! : D Please let me know your thoughts on this. It will be greatly appreciated! | 25a07e7a0b324c51810426f650b17e33 | ['67865744d5fd48db87645bc040fc7afa'] |
Breakfast Date
“Come on, Yura.” Came the voice from Yuri’s laptop. “You said you wanted to cook with me” The voice now sounded amused as Yuri sighed and finally looked at the man on his laptop.
“What if I don’t fucking cook this right? What if I fucking burn it?” the blonde questioned while frowning.
“You won’t learn how to cook other types of foods if you don’t try,” was the only response Yuri got.
“So says the fucking chef. Beka, why can’t you just, you know, teach me when you come visit?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Yuri was utterly distracted by the small smile that blessed his screen. Time slowed down as his eyes swept over every inch of Otabek’s face. As his eyes made their rounds, they stopped on the one target that always took Yuri’s breath away, Otabek’s eyes. It drove Yuri crazy how he loved staring into them. The other man’s eyes could melt any form of worry or nerves away in just one look, or those eyes could bring Yuri to his knees. Yuri felt his knees trying to buckle underneath him and he held onto the counter for extra balance. The longing he felt to wrap his body around Otabek’s muscular body and take in those features that Yuri loved so much in person was too strong. All Yuri could do was stare, and stare he did. He was lost in his world that he didn’t hear the words coming out of Otabek’s mouth nor did he see the other man’s mouth move.
“Yuuura,” came a low groan out of Yuri’s laptop speakers. The affectionate nickname Otabek gave Yuri was enough to shake the younger male out of his deep thoughts.
“WHAT?” he yelled and was quickly met with a chuckle from the other male. Yuri could feel his face burning as a blush swept across his cheeks.
“All I said, Yura, was that I still plan on teaching you how to cook when I come visit. That hasn’t changed. But you were the one who said you wanted to cook with me tonight. This impromptu lesson will have to do.”
Yuri nodded along to Otabek’s words. He knew what the other man said was true. Earlier in the day, Yuri and Otabek had excitedly texted back and forth about Otabek coming to visit within a months’ time. It was during this conversation that Yuri brought up cooking. It amazed the younger man whenever Otabek would cook during their Skype calls. Yuri knew he wanted Otabek to teach him how to cook several types of food as he wasn’t that great of a cook himself. It also didn’t help that Yuri mention that they both should cook tonight during their Skype call. A sigh left Yuri’s lips. “What do I need to make whatever we are making?”
“It’s simple. Tonight, we are making eggs and French toast.” Otabek stated as he rummaged through his fridge for some items. “Yura, for this you need to have at least four eggs, cheese, milk, bread, cinnamon, and some butter.”
Yuri scrunched his nose, still unsure he could actually make breakfast on his own like this. “Cheese? Why do we need fucking cheese?”
“Trust me, Yura.”
A small noise came from Yuri’s lips as he gathered the items and set them on his counter. Yuri turned back to his laptop and moved it to a different spot on the counter, so he could watch Otabek demonstrate everything and follow along.
Yuri followed every move with inquisitive eyes from cracking three of the eggs in a bowl, to whisking them together, even to putting the bowl’s contents in a skillet. He followed every move Otabek made including adding some cheese to the eggs as the cooked, and not even a full minute later, the eggs were done. Yuri looked down at what he created with a smile. “Beka, Look! I fucking did it! It doesn’t look burnt!”
Otabek looked at his laptop screen and returned the smile. “I’m proud of you, Yura.” he said as he turned back to his own eggs and put them on a plate. Otabek’s attention was away from the screen. He didn’t see the bright red blush that was very apparent on Yuri’s cheeks. Out of all the compliments Yuri has received from Otabek, the words ‘I’m proud of you’ always brought this reaction out of the blonde. He gulped and quickly turned around to focus back on the food in the skillet. Yuri was grateful Otabek hadn’t notice his reaction to the other man’s words as he copied Otabek by placing the freshly made eggs onto a plate.
Yuri followed the same watch and copy pattern when they moved on to cooking the French toast. He wasn’t sure at how they were supposed to be cooked at all; however, he was just glad it wasn’t burnt either. He placed the French toast on the same plate as the eggs before adding the syrup on top of his freshly made toast.
Yuri placed his plate on his kitchen table and then moved his laptop over to the table as well. He couldn’t describe the feeling in his chest. To say that Yuri was just happy was an understatement. Was he also giddy? Proud maybe? Or maybe just accomplished? As he tried to think of what he was really feeling, the smile on Yuri’s face grew. “I can’t believe I made something for the first time and didn’t burn it.” The smile on the blonde’s face didn’t budge as his eyes looked over to the screen for Otabek’s reaction. |
19ee1c7b94f146b98022742a516a45e2 | ['67aafb4e590f4d9681e743c7e59683b6'] | One final thrash and Majima was flung off the monster's back. Catching himself in the air, Majima landed on fours and gave his blood soaked tanto a glance. A rather twisted grimace appeared on his face as he motioned for Chrom to do something. What though?"
"Oi Chrom!" Majima called out. "It has two open wounds! Think you can give it a stab? It's weak point is the neck!"
The boar monster roared some more, this time, its roars echoing though the hallways of the temple. The blood from its wounds dripped off its shaggy, fur coat. Its eyes shined a crimson red. Chrom closed his eyes, hoping Majima's little stab trick worked. Maybe a jab to the throat would finish it off. It seemed like it was in pain, but also had its sights on the two males. Showing its large, sharp fangs, it gave off yet another roar. This time, charging towards Chrom and Majima!
"Dammit..." Chrom huffed under his breath. "If we don't make this, the we are going to be in Paradise sooner or later!"
Chrom charged fourth as well, gripping the handle of his blade. Majima watched, curious what will happen. However, he knew Chrom could slay this beast. However, even if it was slain, they would still be stuck in this desert temple. To the point they would die of starvation in the process.
With both Chrom and the monstrous beast charging at each other, both nearly butted heads. However, there was a rather sickening sound of flesh being impaled, followed by Chrom huffing a bit. Before him was the monster boar, with Chrom's blade thrusted into its throat. More blood trickled down the neck of the beast and onto Chrom's blade. Some of the blood dripped onto the stony floor. Slowly pulling his blade, Chrom fell to one knee as the large monster gave off one last roar. A rather weakened one at that. Then it stopped breathing and crashed onto the ground.
Majima walked over to Chrom and placed a hand on his shoulder. A smile was across his face.
"Ya did it, Chrommy!" He exclaimed.
Chrom, he didn't say a word. Instead, he jumped onto his feet and wrapped his arm around Majima's neck. A rather large smile appeared on his face. Something rare that was displayed.
"No Goro, **WE** did it! I mean, it didn't give us much of a match, but we slain it. The problem is, we are kind of stuck here."
Pulling himself away, Majima rubbed his neck. However, that smile Chrom had. It seemed like he was having fun? Did his good eye seen such a thing? Shrugging it all off, he gave Chrom a well placed fist bump.
"The worst is yet to come, y'know. We are still at that dead end, but..."
Majima strutted over to the wall and leaned up against it. He crossed his arms over his chest. Pondering a bit, he didn't know that his weight was pushing the blocks of the wall. Majima then fell backwards and onto the dusty ground. Chrom noticed that Majima toppled over. Even to his surprise, with the wall being broken by Majima!
"EURKEA!" Chrom yelled. "Majima! You found our exit!"
The one eyed Yakuza sat up and rubbed his head, shaking it a bit, he looked up at Chrom and then behind him. Rubbing his head again.
"I found... our ticket out?"
Chrom walked over to the eye patch wearing male and held his hand to him.
"Majima, come on. Let's go. We should follow the light. We may get out!"
With the both of them, they followed the lighten path of the temple. Where would it lead them? Freedom? Or another twisting path? It did not seem long until the two of them reached what appeared to be a hole. A hole leading up to the desert again.
Majima crossed his arms as he looked over at Chrom. Tapping his foot on the ground, he huffed a slight sigh. Turning to face the swordsman, he threw him a grin.
"Hey, Chrom. It seemed like we had fun. Heh. I saw ya smile! I mean, it ain't no Marvel Land, but we had one hell of an adventure!"
Chrom would have to agree. This was the most fun he had. Even if it was a bit life threatening. The hot and scorching desert. The quicksand. Wandering through the temple's traps and slaying the beast.
"Let's head back to the Dragon Turtle. I wonder how long we been gone, but it seems like it's night. The moon is rather beautiful, though..."
Majima looked up at the sky as well. Jumping onto the wall,he climbed up it and pulled himself out of the hole. Chrom followed Majima and sat on the sand. Majima sat beside him and rested his hand on his knee.
The desert night was rather cool. The sky was clear and the moon shining bright. Though, they were in the middle of no place and possibly far from the Dragon Turtle. Majima flopped onto his back, staring up at the sky. Chrom glanced over his shoulder and gave a smile.
"You know, Majima. I thank you for this..."
Before Chrom could say anything else, his belly emitted a soft growl. Placing a hand on his stomach, he laughed softly.
"We should head back. I sense we are not far from it. At least I hope not."
Majima sat up and brushed the excess sand off from his hair. Rubbing the side of his face, he gave Chrom a shrug.
"If we get in quicksand again..."
Chrom simply laughed at Majima complaining about that death trap. Though, some lights could be seen. It was the moon, was it the Dragon Turtle?
"Hey! You two! We got this repaired! What happened to you guys?!"
"Zero?"
The Crimson coloured Reploid hopped out of the machine and walked over to them. He was later followed by Lucina.
"Father! Majima!"
Lucina not only tackled Chrom, but Majima as well, wrapping her arms around the both of them. "What happened to you two?!"
Majima raised an eye brow and looked over at Lucina. He gave a light shrug.
"Eh, not much. Got stuck in quicksand. Wandered through a temple. Fought a monster. Y'know. Same bullshit."
"Is this true?" Lucina asked. She looked over at Chrom and then at Majima.
Chrom gave a nod. Though, both would tell their story back inside the Dragon Turtle. A few moments later and dumping large amounts of sand from their clothing, Majima and Chrom sat on the sofa. The other members gathered around the two, listening to their adventure.
Later at on the same night, Majima gave a light yawn, noticing Chrom was leaning up against him. He was already fast asleep. He didn't care. It was the same way when he leaned up against Chrom, napping up against him.
"We had one hell of an adventure, 'Chrommy-Chan'." He said. Giving another yawn, he soon fell asleep. This, ending their adventure for the day.
END
_AN: That was a trip. So, who shall be next? Majima? Ryo? You decide? Or shall I?_ | 28f10ae4c3a141e484214af7497cf610 | ['67aafb4e590f4d9681e743c7e59683b6'] | “Nova?” He started to ask. Nova would glance at him. He wondered what the other had to say.
“GV? What is it?”
“Am I safe here? I mean. You did save me. It isn't like I have any other place to go...”
Nova quickly hushed the other as he tapped GV's lips. He was safe. This was his 'home' after all. He would look forwards and gave a soft sigh.
“You are free to stay here, USER. The holidays are here soon. If you wish to stay. It is up to you. We do some things when that day hits, but I figured it be your first time here. You can stay here. Celebrate with us.”
“Well... sure! I mean... That would be great!”
USER's tone sounded a bit more happy. He then would rub his eyes. He was rather tired now. Getting on his feet, Nova would follow him as well.
“Let us get some rest. Tomorrow is a big day. We may have some plans. Would you care to join me?”
USER gave a nod. A smile was on his face. It was not a large one, but a small one. Nova would fold his hands together and smile as well. Turning his back, he waved to the other male.
“Jota brewed up some warm tea with honey. Have a cup or two and have a nice bath. I will see you in the morning.”
Both boys left the garden area. USER soon would get ready for bed and call it a day. A good night's sleep would be perfect for this day. Laying his head on a soft pillow and drawing some warm, fluffy covers on his body. He soon drifted off to sleep. Tomorrow would be another day. Hopefully better than what happened.
_ **TBC** _ |
43372097c4f2404bb904998c9c15af2b | ['67c5c1d91e944136915b71860376dc96'] | Mike dropped to his knees, clutching his cheek. “Ouch! Son of a _bitch_ \--Jesus, Brooks, what did I do to you? Fuck.”
Brooks and Nick were there in an instant. “Dude, I am _so_ sorry,” Brooks apologized. “How bad is it?” Nick asked.
Mike pulled his hand away. No blood. Good. It sure did hurt, though. Brooks appraised him, kneeling to get a closer look. The worry faded from his eyes. “I think it just grazed you,” he diagnosed. “You’ll be okay, buddy.” He patted Mike on the shoulder.
“What happened?” Nick inquired.
Mike returned his hand to its place atop his cheek. His gaze shifted to Brooks’ and Nick’s skates, feeling like a kid under the scrutiny of Mom and Dad. “I… dunno. I was just thinking about…” He swallows hard. “…how this’ll be the last time we’re gonna practice together like this.” He didn’t say it, but mentally, he added, _And how I’m not gonna be a Cap any more._ And, fuck if he didn’t hate himself for it, Mike started to cry.
It was all too much. Memories about the past and worries about the future smothered him, and he choked out sobs. There were few times that Nick and Brooks had seen him cry, and he didn’t want to add to that list, but he couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down his face. Now he really did feel like a kid. Crying over something that he could’ve prevented if he’d tried hard enough. He’d never cried on the ice: not when he was a mite, not in juniors, not when he got his concussion. In desperation and embarrassment, he wished he were alone, that he had shut the door on the three men who came calling last night. He wished he was home, alone: he didn’t even want the comfort of his wife, because he’d feel just as embarrassed for acting like this.
And then, Brooks and Nick enveloped him in a group hug, gloves tossed off for proper contact. Neither patronized him. Neither mocked him. They just held him as the tears came.
How could he think he would’ve been better off without these two? And how was he going to survive without them next season? “I don’t deserve you guys,” Mike sniffled.
Nick and Brooks pulled away enough to speak. “Bullshit,” Brooks said, the usual conviction in his voice wavering and instead sounding brittle. “Yeah,” Nick agreed more steadily. “Mike, we didn’t deserve _you_. And neither does anyone else.”
Mike wiped his eyes with his gloves, taking deep breaths. “What?”
“Look,” Nick said in his matter-of-fact way, “at twelve o’clock today, things are gonna change. You’re gonna go to a different team. Okay. We’re gonna miss you, like, a lot, but we’re still gonna see each other. Things are gonna be different, yes, but you’re still gonna be my best friend. _Our_ best friend. Brooks and I didn’t do all of this to make ourselves feel good, or whatever; we did it because we wanted you to know that you mean a lot to us.” Mike smiled a little. Nick always knew where his head was at and how to talk to him. He tried not to think about how much he’d miss that. “You gotta look at the positives, Mike. You get to start over, you get to live in a new city, you get to work with new guys. You can still call us and everything.”
“I expect you to still call me,” Brooks chipped in.
“We’re just happy we got you for as long as we did,” Nick continued. “I’m not looking forward to blocking your slapshot next year, that’s for sure.” Nick cut his eyes challengingly. “Unless you’ve been getting soft on me.”
Mike grinned, wiping away the last of his tears. “Don’t think that’ll happen next season, Nicky: you might get slapped in the face next time.”
“Prove it!” Nick said, standing and skating away to the other end of the ice. Mike charged after him, sadness forgotten for now, pulling Brooks along with him.
**11:59 am.**
Ovi showed up at about eleven, freshly showered and well-rested. They tried not to hate him for it too much. (They hated him for it a little bit.) “I buy breakfast when we done, okay?” he offered, holding his hands up in surrender to the barrage of chirps Brooks, Nick, and Mike hit him with when he arrived.
“We already had breakfast,” Nick said as he sent a puck successfully across the ice and into the bucket.
“Okay, lunch, then.”
_Lunch?_ Mike thought. How late was it, anyway? Just as the thought occurred to him, his phone began to buzz. _12:00 pm._ It was his agent.
“Who is it?” Brooks asked.
Mike stared down at his phone as it continued to vibrate in his hand. So that was it, then. Twelve o’clock. Officially a free agent. Officially no longer a Washington Capital.
How had time moved so fast? How was it already noon? Hell, how had ten years already passed? How was his time here already over?
“Mike?” Brooks prompted. “You gonna answer that?”
Mike looked up. His friends all wore the same expression, equal parts sadness and understanding. It was time to start negotiating, start deciding. Start trying to sell himself and his talent to a bunch of men in suits who looked at him as numbers and decimal points and statistics.
Mike frowned. _Fuck this,_ he thought, and tapped at his phone, cutting the power. He put it back in his pocket.
“My agent can figure it out,” he said, shrugging. “He knows what I want for a contract and a team. Right now, the only contract I care about is that Ovi buys us lunch, and my only team are my three oldest friends.”
The expressions brightened instantly. Mike tapped his stick on the ice. “Now come on, Ovi, let me set you up for a few one-timers for old times’ sake.” | d1349b3f56d6412f97367a013013b596 | ['67c5c1d91e944136915b71860376dc96'] | Brooks gives Mike a tour with the intention of getting Mike more acquainted with the layout of the store but actually ends up being about half that and half awkward dancing around the brazen eroticism of NSFW’s merchandise. The left side of the shop is where most of the shelves are, but they aren’t heavy, so they could be easily pushed around if need be. It’s this defense system that stalled Mike on his first venture into NSFW: Brooks has shoved two each up against the front door and the back door that leads to the back parking lot. As it is, the back office is already pretty well-protected, hidden behind the cashier’s counter, a dividing wall, and two doors between it and the rest of the store. The store itself is well-stocked, but most of the goods will take some MacGyver-ing to make into anything useful (useful for survival, anyway.) Mike makes a note to grab a paddle and maybe a whip from the (surprisingly small) BDSM section.
Once the tour is finished, Mike makes himself a bed out of a mix of boyfriend and girlfriend pillows . He can’t help but chuckle to himself about the irony, considering his own romantic life hasn’t been much different than this: going to bed with a mixture of men and women. He wonders as an afterthought if Brooks will think he’s weird for using both, or for not picking just the girlfriend ones. He tells himself he’s over-analyzing and being silly, and even if Brooks noticed, he didn’t seem to be the type to judge. He and Brooks agree that it’s probably best that they sleep in the same room, for logistical reasons. Mike doesn’t complain.
After a dinner of assorted Frito-Lay products and some Sour Patch Kids for dessert, they lock up and settle down for the night. Mike volunteers to keep watch, since they are now a party of two, but Brooks doesn’t think it’s necessary. “The biters almost never come here. I don’t think they know anyone’s inside.”
Mike nods, deciding Brooks probably knows best, and beds down. He’s staring at the ceiling when the other man’s voice speaks up again. “Mike?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you--?” he falters. “Are you okay? With staying here, I mean? I hope you don’t feel like I’m forcing you to or anything.”
Mike is thoughtful, before replying into the darkness, “Well, a sex shop isn’t exactly what I had in mind for my dream home as a kid, but I guess it’ll do.”
Brooks “mmm”s and Mike can hear him shift around on his bed. Mike continues, “It’s much better than being out on the road all the time. By myself.”
“Goodnight Mike,” Brooks says, and Mike can hear the smile in his voice.
“Goodnight, Brooks.”
~
Mike has been living with Brooks for two weeks, and he’s about to lose it.
It’s nothing about Brooks—not Brooks specifically, anyway. Brooks is just fine as a roommate, but the fact is he _never_ leaves the store. Mike can’t remember the last time he was in one place for this long. He supposes this is how Brooks has survived this whole time, holing himself up in a nondescript location with plenty of food and resources, but it’s driving Mike nuts to be so cooped up.
He wakes up to find Brooks calmly reading the same issue of _Hooked Magazine_ —Summer 2013, with a gigantic Marlin on the cover that has glazed-over eyes that stare into Mike’s soul—that he’s read at least four separate times, cover to cover.
“How can you still read that thing?” Mike asks through a yawn.
“Morning to you too,” Brooks says, peering over the top of the pages with a smile.
Mike sits up, rubbing his eyes. “Seriously man, what’s even in there? Can you seriously read about _fish_ so much?”
“Mmmhmm,” Brooks replies, having turned back to his magazine. It’s then that Mike realizes he is not simply reading, but also highlighting. Every minute or so, Brooks will make a quick mark on his papers with a flick of his wrist.
Mike scoots closer to the other man to see what exactly he’s doing. What’s highlighted are not long phrases like he was expecting, but instead single words that don’t seem to belong to any particular pattern. “What are you--?”
“I pick the words I like best,” Brooks supplies, not looking up. “The ones I think sound the best, or look the best, or the ones I don’t think I’m likely to hear again.”
Sure enough, looking more closely at the chosen words, Mike does notice a pattern: ‘extraordinary,’ ‘humongous,’ ‘tropical,’ ‘glimmering’… “That’s… really cool.”
“Passes the time,” Brooks says simply.
Mike watches him for another moment, Brooks’ blue eyes focused and sharp, and stands up abruptly. “I’m going out.”
Instantly, Brooks forgets about his magazine, and his eyes cloud with worry. “What? Why?”
“I don’t know how you’ve done it, but I can’t stand to be in here any longer. I need to go for a walk, see if I can find something else for us to eat besides processed salt. And maybe find you a new magazine,” he adds, half to himself.
“Oh.” Brooks closes his magazine slowly and sits up. “Are you—will you be okay out there? Not that you can’t handle yourself,” he adds quickly. “I just—it’s dangerous out there.”
“Well in case you’ve forgotten, I made it three whole months ‘out there’ before I found you. I think I can handle it.”
Brooks frowns, but is wordless as Mike begins gathering his gear: paddle, knife, gun, backpack… He can’t help but feel his anxiety mount, perhaps partially due to Brooks’ worrying, about going outside. He’s doing it mostly because he’s antsy, but a part of him is also afraid that his isolation is making him go soft. Which triggers yet another worry. |
aa3aed7d48884fdb9f499ca89e217db3 | ['67d5973bf72944eb9c4cf74b70046a69'] | “Mr. President? Are you okay?” A loud, yet surprisingly soft voice rang through the hallway, bringing the man to a stop and causing him to look up at the young blond man he was introduce to a few days ago. With a warm smile, the president slowly nodded and casually rubbed the tired tears away from his eyes, yet the blond man didn’t seemed convinced and as the president once again assured him that he was indeed okay, the man continued to nervously ask if he could do something to help. “Alfred, Alfred enough! I am okay, i was just taking a walk around in order to relax a little more from the tense atmosphere in that room,” the president finally explain, a small laugh leaving him as he physically saw the tense shoulders of the blond man relax and slouch over a bit. A few seconds later, Alfred looked up and gave a small smile at the man, his cheeks dusted red as he realized this and nervous laughter accidentally bubbling up which he soon tried to cover as a coughing.
The president could not do a thing but laugh a little too, since it was a new term and Alfred being what he was, a ‘country’ as he’d lightly put it, it was a very awkward occasion for both of them, but as soon as Alfred finally cooled down and begin to chit chat more openly with the man, he could not do much but to also relax into the conversation. It was a curious thing, and he’d taken notice of this, but whenever he had found himself making small talk with the blond man, he would definitely begin it with a very enthusiastic tone to things, as if everything that he talked about honestly interested him and unlike any other, Alfred did not seem to run away from the ‘presence’ the man gave as the one in authority but searched for it and faced it as his equal (which in the end is true since both man have the same kind of power over the nation).
“Oh man, look at that time! It’s almost time for my turn to present,” Alfred had said while glancing at his phone, a small nervous laughter surfacing once again, in the same breath he turned towards the way the room was, as if expecting someone to be there waiting for him, but it was only the two of them in the hall. The president frowned a little, his eyes clearly reading Alfred’s nervousness what it was to come, to be told, he already had an impression that the young man didn’t show such uneasy feelings towards things so easily, but this… It slightly concerned him. “Something the matter, Alfred?” The older man asked, making the blond jump at the sudden sound and turn back with another flutter of nervous laughter, yet it died down very quickly as the blond’s gaze fell and his arms seemed to be slightly busier than before. “It’s nothing Mr. President, I’m just nervous for the next part of the meeting… But don’t worry, I’ll make sure is worth a while, please come to meeting room soon!” With that said, the blond quickly left the president, his hurried steps making him a bit clumsier than usual and although it made the man smile, he still worried about the nervousness that suddenly overcame the young man.
——————————-
When the man finally came back to the room, everyone else was sitting in their spot, some chit-chatting among the people around them and others just waiting for the third part to start. Once he took his seat, there was a small hush which quieted the people around and turn the attention towards the middle of the room. There, Alfred stood in the middle of the conference room, to his left side stood the former president and to his right stood another blond man, the man he’d notice to be looking around before he left the room in fact, this made the president frown a little and unconsciously, lean forward in curiosity of what Alfred and the two other man had to say. The tallest blond man, presented himself as Alfred F Jones and went on ahead to explain what his role in the house was, an explanation the president had heard once the same day he was elected president. It send an awed hushed around the room and as the president looked around to see reactions, he could read various emotions going from shock to readily acceptance. It was a very good reaction if the president might say, but as he turned to look at the men in the front, it seemed as if it was not exactly what they were looking for.
After another few minutes, Alfred turned his head slightly to his right and without a word, the green eyes blond took a few steps forward until he was standing side by side to Alfred. Eyes locked with each other and in an unspoken interchange of words, the other man stood in front of the room and spoke about himself, calling himself Arthur Kirkland, his role being the representative of the United Kingdom. He also did his little introduction, fidgeting a little as if he was not used to doing such presentations, then again it could be understood, after all not everyone is expected to react coolly to such announcements, but just like Alfred, his presentation was received with equal amount of enthusiasm and acceptance (to no ones surprise if the president dare say so). After all the cordial presentations where done, a very subtle change of atmosphere happen, it was a change not notice by everyone, unless looking for it. The air around the room that was became a little more tense and it maybe was not notice by those whose power is very low but subconsciously, they would start playing with their hair or adjust their sitting posture.
Suddenly, the two world representatives seemed to be very unreachable and somewhat be seen as godly personalities when in reality they were just as godly as any human with a certain amount of power. The room when quiet once again, eyes focused on the men at the middle with forced smiles and sweating hands, yet they did not say anything for a few minutes, in fact, they seemed to be judging the room with their eyes, the American landing on people and seeming to try to judge future reactions, lingering on the secretary of defense the most and noticeably avoiding meeting gazes with his new boss, while the English quickly went to read the president, almost piercing green eyes reading the soft edges of the new boss, his features never changing and his eyes a closed off door that could not be broken down. It was a rather surprising look, as if the man was giving a threat towards him when in reality he wasn’t, he mostly seemed hostile, like a scared cat. Without much to say, the president gave him a smile in hopes to calm his tense posture, but as time moved on, he notice it didn’t really changed much in him.
“Well then, there is one more announcement we would like to make before returning to the regular schedule meeting,” Arthur stated, his gaze moving from the president to catch the attention of the room around him, his hand, which earlier had been neatly positioned behind his back, was now taken by Alfred in a firm grasp before continuing to a very drawn out explanation that needed to be explain to the new staff. They started with how relationship between countries are made, political ones, which in turned catches the attention of many in the room having never heard of such ordeals (unless the High School and higher education could be counted as of knowing how they worked, but in this reality they really didn’t give the actual deed enough credit), before moving onto a territory that caught almost everyone else off guard.
“As countries, we have barriers of social interaction within our own citizens. Yes, we can befriend them and become something close to family to them, but… We are forbidden to have any personal relationship with them or in simpler terms ‘dating’ them,” Alfred begin, his eyes down-casting and his face turning into a slightly concerned but focused expression.“With that said, we do not have a limit of personal relationships between ourselves. In fact, many of the old alliances have turned into personal relationships between the two countries and even after those alliances have broke politically, they do not diminish or impact the personal relationship between the two individuals,” finished the English man, his eyes never revealing any emotion as he gave his little explanation, yet if one noticed the hands again, they seemed to be slightly shaking and a nervous sweat could be seen in Alfred’s forehead. “Since the choices within our realm are limited to beings of the same kind, it is not weird for countries who have been closely together politically to have a personal relationship as well…”
As they reached this point, something clicked within the president’s mind, the amount of nervousness was just too much for the meeting to be about learning how the country/government relationship worked or how international affairs were handle. His eyes narrowed a little, noticing the small fidgeting from both young men and he sudden intake of breath from Alfred as well. “With that said… I would like for everyone to know that the political relationship between the United Kingdom and the United States is more deeply than mere alliances…” After that the room was suddenly very quiet, almost everyone seemed to be in shock, except for those who were already aware of this which were the few older staff. The president himself did not know hot to react to it, but in a way, he could see how that had happen and why it was almost not surprising that it did. Sighing a little the president gave a small smile towards the two of them before laughing a little at the whole situation, because although almost unbelievable it was also very amusing, because everything was bizarre in it. The two people in the room who have lived through many unthought of events in life as well as been in many different (and most definitely awkward situations) were standing in the middle of it, fidgeting like crazy and almost blushing at the nervousness that doing this gave to them.
“Seriously man, you two have probably lived through many nerve wracking moments and this is what it takes to almost break you down?” The president gave his opinion, still trying to control his laughter at the bizarre situation and in a point, he also had slightly lost his composure. Without much words, he stood up and walked towards them, the smile still in place and hands outstretched as if inviting them to finally relax. “Now, I don’t mean to speak for everyone, but if you are concerned of how we will take this, I assure you that my staff will be nothing but professionals about this. After all, you two have an important role not to just your own governments but to us as well, so stop fidgeting so much Alfred and just smile, you make everyone around nervous when you don’t,” and with that it was settle, the room seemed to collectively sigh in relief and continued on with their usual chatter after a big announcement is made, some even ventured towards the countries in order to voice their curiosities and the president just gave a light squeeze of the shoulders to both men before moving back to his sit.
It might not be the most comfortable announcement to make to a nation still debating over relationship views, but one thing was sure, they were not in any position to mess with the small amount of freedom these countries seem to have in their lives. | 987257fdfece43ff84a0cd732654d71a | ['67d5973bf72944eb9c4cf74b70046a69'] |
Wristwatches & Ancient Myths
**Author's Note:**
> Because Char is a big cry baby I re-posted this again. (The only thing I can say is that... It's better than the other one...)
>
> ALSO I edited this myself so I expect to have a lot of run-on sentences and also I gave up like getting at the bottom of it so if there's mistakes there I am so sorry cries.
>
> Enjoy the gay veggie burgers
_‘The world works in mysterious ways’_ people are used to saying this as a way to comfort those who they deem too preoccupied with fitting into the world they exist on. Yet it's such a cheesy line, half the time people don't even take it seriously.
But then there’s the other saying about cheesy lines... _"there's always some truth behind them."_
Which in his opinion was complete _bullshit._
But it didn’t really matter, Alfred F. Jones loved to fool himself with those kind of ideas. After all, there was nothing wrong with fantasizing what destiny, love and faith had in store for him... He was also very fond of the idea that science held the key to answer every question in life, but even with that belief, there was only just _so much_ things science could answer for him... So here he was, an ordinary man with a major in Physics, a love for baseball, a good job and the foolish belief that destiny played a giant role in his decisions in life.
But even with all his believes and his scientific facts. Alfred could still not understand the reason why such things as _half-life_ wristwatches existed.
Before anyone wonders what the _hell_ half-life stands for, they are small wristwatch given at birth as a form of virtual countdown. They are thin enough to be consider a bracelet, yet people decide to call them watches, mostly because of their _“purpose”_ , of counting down to an important _‘life changing_ ’ event that reshapes our lives and guides us to “the beginning of another chapter in the book called life.” Or so his mother used to love saying.
As fate might have it, one cannot take it off until its purpose has been completed, of course its _‘purpose’_ is to announce the individual when they have met their fated _"other half"_ or ask Alfred likes to call them, _"The awkward meeting of whom you're supposed to spend the rest of your life with."_
And if one thought about it, the young blond was mostly right about the awkward part.
In every corner, every room, every public place there would be the so familiar ding of the bells in the bracelets going off and there you would have the perfect _couples_. Quite frankly, Alfred was oh so very tired of it all, nothing annoyed him more than hearing the annoying sounds (which curiously, to him anyways, all of them never repeated in tone, and no it is not something he had notice consciously, thank you very much!) of yet another pair of matching wrist watch dissipating and of course the awkward and surprise laughter that followed from the new couple.
Many strangers would stop and clap for them, congratulate them on reaching the beginning of another journey before walking off, at those times where Alfred would find himself trapped in the social obligation to ‘congratulate’ them, he would somehow had the good fortune of getting away or, of course, had to stand around and fake a smile before congratulating the ever so blushing new couple.
It really was a strange phenomenon, a thing many had tried to research and explain, but had found little to no answers. Of course being him, Alfred did his own fair amount of research, believing that if he searched far enough he would get as many logical answers as possible... Of course all that only concluding in more questions and the curious finds that other systems of beliefs gave different meanings to them.
For example, the _Greek_ thought that it was a gift from the gods bestowed on humans in order to find their perfect other half. An opportunity believed to be only available for the gods to use, but now given to humans so we must look upon the god with gratitude for giving us such opportunity of eternal happiness. Other systems consider it a curse for humanity. A punishment given by God in order to pay for our constant sinning. Specially for those who ended up with their watch broken. Which meant their other half had their life ended suddenly and that they were destined to never find that sort of happiness others did around them.
Today’s society just accepts it as something that everyone has to deal it, a norm that is not look at as weird or a curse, but a social novelty, just like once dating was the thing going around (or so the books say).
Most of his friends had already found their other half, even his older brother Matthew had found _him_ , his other half. He was a smoker, just like Mattie… One of the many nights Alfred had been forced to follow his brother in order to bring him back home safe and sound, it had happen. They had been about to leave the party when a new guest had come and that’s when the bells appeared and Mattie had dumbly stared at Jan, his future partner. Alfred remembers actually being happy for him at that time, but deep inside he knew he was a tad jealous of his _twin brother_ finding his stupid other half before him. |
8ad9be5211034a04b7733b6dd73357e6 | ['67db627abc6b4a2297e2946ad062538a'] | Naomi said nothing. Now that it was time, her words seemed to be catching in her throat. But she took a breath and made herself push through. "Um, Elena? I got you a present, but it's a little... involved." She scratched her head. "Do you have some time later?"
"Time?" Elena looked puzzled. "For what?"
"To go get it. I can't bring it here. I need to take you to it." Naomi's cheeks flushed as she realized Elena might have other things to do that day. This big party was only supposed to last a couple hours, and after that she could have royal meetings, or talks with ambassadors, or Scepter training with Mateo, or anything at all that could take up her time. What if she said no?
But Elena didn't. She still looked confused, but she said, "Well, sure. I'm free for a few hours after the party. Gabe, Mateo why don't you come with--"
"No!" said Naomi at once. "I mean... if it's alright, I'd like to get it with just you." She clasped her hands together. "Please?"
The other three exchanged glances, and then Naomi saw a small smile creep over Gabe's face. "Right, this is the gift you were trying real hard to make sure was totally perfect," he said. "Alright, no worries. Mateo and I'll find something else to do this afternoon." Mateo nodded a moment later.
Elena shrugged. "Ok, if that's what you want. Um, let's meet up after the party?"
That was good enough for Naomi, who quickly nodded before Elena could change her mind. "You won't regret it," she insisted. "I promise!"
* * *
The party was wonderful, The food was delicious, the musicians, magicians, and other performers were stunning, and every single detail went perfectly. Naomi, for her part, really tried to enjoy it and at times even succeeded. But she still couldn't stop herself from sneaking near-constant glances at the clocks in the room, counting off each minute until the event was over.
Finally, though, the performers had packed up, the buffet had been cleared away, and the last guests had left. Naomi, standing by the front door, turned as Elena approached her. "Okay, so, where are we going?"
"First, the docks. Come on." Naomi couldn't keep a hint of tension out of her voice, but there was excitement there too. If she could just get this right...
"Should I wear anything special?" asked Elena as she followed Naomi out the door. "I've got sailing clothes upstairs."
"Don't worry, I'll handle all the sailing. You'll just be relaxing on deck," called Naomi. "Don't worry--I thought of everything!" Or at least, she hoped she had.
The castle carriage took them to the docks, where Daniel Turner was waiting next to his ship. "Have fun, girls!" he called as Naomi scampered aboard and began checking everything. "And happy birthday, Princess Elena."
"Thanks, Mr. Turner." Elena climbed on after Naomi and settled down on a lounge chair that Naomi had set up on deck. "Are we sailing somewhere?"
"Yeah," said Naomi. She was already halfway up the rigging, and it took just a few moments for her to get the sails unfurled properly before she was sliding back down and grabbing at the anchor chain. "Maybe an hour and a half away." She gave Elena a cheeky, almost embarrassed grin and tried not to let her hands shake with nervous energy. It was just a little further, she told herself. Only a little more to go. "Told you it would take a while. But it'll totally be worth it, I swear."
Elena still looked puzzled. "I trust you," she said. "But what's ninety minutes from here by sea?" Avalor had some resort islands, there were ports further down the coast, and of course Cordoba was just a short sail away, but all of those options could be reached in much less time. "I can't think of anything--"
"Hey, relax, I've got this." Naomi tossed a comfy pillow next to the lounge chair. "You just relax and take a little siesta. I'll let you know when we arrive."
"Well..." Elena was quiet for a few seconds before nodding slowly and leaning back on the chair. "Alright, Naomi. I'll take a nap. You drive the ship." She giggled and then raised a hand as if waving an imaginary set of orders. "Captain! Take us away!"
"Aye aye, princess!" Naomi saluted, then turned the rudder and began steering them out to sea.
She had thought the time would drag, Naomi mused as Avalor dropped away behind them and she turned to sail towards a distant coast. She had thought she'd be so nervous, so worried that each second would feel like a year. And she was, in fact, worried-- that the boat would break down, that Elena would hate the gift, that a million other things might happen. But at the same time, she was incredibly excited at finally getting to go through with it, and the minutes seemed to go flying by as she carefully guided the boat through the water.
She kept the ship as steady as a rock, so as not to disturb Elena's sleep, yet poured on all the speed she could manage so they could reach their destination on time. They were actually several minutes ahead of schedule when Naomi reached the coast she'd been aiming for, one belonging to a large jungle island, and then turned to follow it east. Another fifteen minutes took the ship to a narrow, rock-strewn inlet, and a few more minutes still had elapsed before Naomi had safely coaxed the ship through. And then at last, once they were half a mile upriver, Naomi nudged Elena. "We're here."
Elena yawned, stretched, and then opened her eyes. "Where--woah." | b64434f94a3045df97c168fbb246b4bb | ['67db627abc6b4a2297e2946ad062538a'] | As they walked up to the factory, Frankie took a small flask out of her pocket and drank it. Cleo had assured her that she'd found a way to simulate the full moon inside the building, so Frankie had asked Ghoulia to make her another portion of the werewolf juice. It wouldn't do to sit this hunt out, after all; that would risk Draculaura feeling singled out. Rather, Frankie and the others had to participate alongside Draculaura to show they accepted what she did and would even do it themselves. That was what a friend would do.
Besides. It was right that monsters hunt humans. It was proper that criminals die. And it was _fun_.
Cleo's servants let the seven ghouls into the building, and Frankie grinned as she looked over the interior. The entire building had been redesigned with stylish obstacles such as dog-headed statues, columns, and even sarcophagi, just to make the hunt a little more challenging. The walls had also been painted in a gold and brown motif, vaguely Egyptian in nature, and with frequentpictures of big imposing monsters that seemed to emphasize how little humans were before them. The ceiling, newly patched, had been painted to look like the night sky... a red-tinted one which perfectly fit the mood of the event. There was even a moon-like disco ball which Frankie knew from experience would trigger moon-like effects in werewolves; Frankie could already feel it drawing at her, and she found herself wishing they could start already--but no, it was Draculaura's night, they had to let her begin. "Nice decorating!" chirped Frankie as the servants shut the door behind the ghouls and they entered the factory floor. "Thanks, Cleo!"
"Well." Cleo's voice was smug as usual, but Frankie didn't mind--she'd earned it. "Some of us _do_ have a sense for these things."
Just over twenty people were huddled against the back wall, guarded by a dozen servants. Frankie whispered their names and crimes to the others just in case they'd want particular ones; Lagoona, for instance, made a soft noise when Frankie mentioned that the two guys in the back were notorious whalers, and Clawdeen grimaced upon hearing that one of them was a schoolteacher who had beaten misbehaving students of about Howleen's age and used political connections to avoid getting fired. Some begged and pleaded, but Frankie ignored the prey as she turned to Draculaura. "Whenever you're ready?"
Draculaura grinned. Her fangs were brilliantly sharp, and her accent sounded unusually pronounced when she spoke next. "I'm ready now."
"Then..." Cleo gestured at the humans. The servants rushed away, and after a startled moment, the humans began running too. "So are we."
The vampire jumped up in the air. "BEGIN!" she cried, and then they were off.
Ghouls yelled and rushed forwards, some moving with supernatural speed, others more slowly but just as surely as they advanced. Frankie herself was dimly conscious of the factory blurring around her but pushed that out of her mind as she gave chase to her first target, one of the financier's bodyguards. He was really fast--she guessed that being athletic was a big part of his job--but she was a monster amped up by the moon. He couldn't escape her.
The man ducked into a passage formed by a series of obstacles, but Frankie could hear him, even smell him, and she raced after him. She reached the other end of the passage just in time to see Rochelle fly down and decapitate one of the others--a hitman, Frankie remembered--and then glanced up in time to see the schoolteacher scamper to a catwalk and then scream as Clawdeen jumped him. The werewolf began to savage his body, but Frankie's attention was already back on her own target, and as he made progress towards the nearest window she sped up with a gleeful roar.
Frankie passed by more combat as she ran, including Lagoona biting into one of the whalers with her massive teeth and Venus using her pheromones to compel one of the drunken bruisers to swallow a seed which, Frankie knew, would quickly poison him and dissolve him into fertilizer for her plants. Then she saw Cleo lounging in a throne-like chair while her servants hoisted struggling gangsters onto some kind of sacrificial alter. It figured, she thought, that Cleo's participation would be along the lines of 'having her servants do it.' But that was just how the girl was, and there was no point in complaining--not when her prey was so close.
And then she had him. Frankie's prey stumbled over an exposed pipe and Frankie launched herself through the air, driving herself with her undead strength and tackling him so hard she was surprised when her target survived the impact with the ground. The man babbled something as she got up and hauled him to his feet, but as she reached for his neck she saw motion in the corner of her eye, and she turned--
To see Draculaura with the financier and his other bodyguard. Both men were trembling, but Draculaura's eyes were bright red and when she spoke it was in a voice of absolute control. "Stop," she ordered. "Kneel and present your necks." Both men swayed as they did so, and she smiled as she went over to them. They were quaking in fear, but she didn't even seem to notice as she knelt and rubbed one finger over the financier's neck. "Now..."
But then her confidence seemed to slip, and Frankie saw her eyes flick around the room. And she was scared, Frankie knew. Scared that even if her friends _said_ they were fine with her nature, that they would react with disgust if they saw her do it. That they would abandon her like her other friends who hadn't understood her nature.
"Draculaura," called Frankie. "Over here." The vampire looked at her-- |
6361ec3be6da4d4fbe8777bdeab7f2cf | ['67e6f1822c0043acacda472d2233e382'] |
1. Arm against chest
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Friendship is mutually ignored injuries.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> For Kadian.
>
> Thanks to my friend Emily for her information about just how damn stable plastic explosives are.
Their latest number, one Briar Hewitt, has just hot-wired Finch’s car and is haring through Queens with a trunk full of semtex. John has picked a stranded Finch up in a hot-wired car of his own and now he’s dodging through traffic while Finch tracks Hewitt’s phone through the city.
Swerving around a cement truck that’s mounted the kerb, they pick up his trail just in time to see him hurtling through an intersection. Then a semi-trailer ends their wannabe weapons dealer’s plans with a deadly T-bone.
Thank god for the stability of plastic explosives. As he slams the breaks, John knows his biggest problem is going to be whiplash, not an explosive shockwave. Even as his conscious brain forms the thought, he’s throwing his arm across Finch to keep him from slamming into the dash.
Pilfering the semtex from the trunk of Finch’s car means they’re on scene long enough for paramedics to arrive. One sees the blood on John's face from where he cracked his head on the steering wheel and forces him to sit while she checks him for concussion. Even though she clears him, Finch insists on driving them back to the library. Finch insists he’s fine, even though John catches him compulsively rubbing his chest, but he lets it slide because Finch is pretending to ignore that John is doing the same to his wrist.
It’s probably best if they both act like it’s just the injuries that their hands keep coming back to.
2. Hand to elbow
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> He shouldn't be relieved.
>
> Spoilers for 2x02, Bad Code.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> For Kadian.
“Am I hit?”
“I don't think so.” And John scoops him off the ground and drags him through the chaos. His arm under Harold’s, hand firm around his elbow, looking for all the world like his bodyguard. "Sorry I took so long."
He didn’t dare to hope John would come. It was the Machine that was important, saving people. If his death would keep the Machine safe, Harold would willingly give his life, knowing that John would be there to continue the work. That the Machine would give him the numbers. It was far too selfish and short-sighted to expect John to come after him.
And yet he had come. Harold’s having trouble moving his feet fast enough to keep up, so John is half carrying him, and he’s certain John is still carrying a gun, they really need to get out of the public space and all Harold wants to do is stare. Stop and stare at John, take in the face of the friend he thought he’d never see again, the man who _always_ knows when Finch needs rescuing and has never yet failed to get to him.
But he cannot stop, _they_ cannot stop, and so he stumbles along, legs unsteady from the drugs and so long in the chair and relief. He clutches the hand holding him up, hoping that John understands everything he's not able to verbalise, when he says, "I really didn't intend for you to come and find me, Mr. Reese."
3. Arm over shoulder
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The weight of responsibility outweighs that of any body.
>
> Spoilers for 1x10, Number Crunch.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> For Kadian.
>
> Sorry for the gap between posts, I made a mistake in my personal life and the fallout has been stressing me out. Hopefully I'm back on track now.
The car bounces at the dip in the road, but the fire escape is opening and Finch can see John. Stumbling to the railings for support, heedless of his gun falling to the ground, _alive_. Finch slams the brakes, screeches to a stop. Ignores the thwarted momentum stabbing up his neck because he can see everything. The blood still spreading across clean cotton, still leaving a trail across the concrete, and _John_. John’s face is so pale.
He’s reaching for Finch before he’s even properly out of the car. Pain be damned, he ducks under the outstretched arm to catch John as he collapses into Finch. The other man’s weight falls across his shoulders. One of Finch’s hands braces against John’s stomach, the other wraps around his back as best it can. John tries to smile, but his sickly pallor robs it of any joke. It’s more of a dead man’s grimace. Finch’s fingers are slick with blood, but he clings to John because the man can barely hold onto him.
“Don’t move!”
John’s legs have given up; he can’t see Carter’s gun. Finch can. He can see all her anger and fear and confusion hasn’t impacted her training, her firearm is trained steadily on them, so he freezes. And she can see him. At first she doesn’t place him, and every survival instinct Finch has is screaming to move before she can. But for all Carter is good police, she’s just sold John out and Finch cannot trust her not to shoot them for running now So he doesn’t move, holds himself still with John’s life hanging from his shoulders. And sees the recognition dawn, the disbelief.
“You?”
If they survive, everything has changed.
Fingers dig into Finch’s shoulder, John using him as leverage to lift his head around and meet her eyes. Beneath his fingers, John’s blood is still flowing. Bleeding out while they wait for Carter to pass judgement.
If she doesn’t decide soon, it will be death.
No, Finch realizes in the same thought. If he has to take a bullet for it, very well, but he will not let John die. | 280c6f2298af40639f5a0ed3a3def6a4 | ['67e6f1822c0043acacda472d2233e382'] | Groves who is still out and still looking for him. Groves who could be anyone, taking root wherever she needs. She could be outside right now, looking for him with ten thousand eyes that never sleep. Or closer, she could have found him, one of the hundreds to pass the library every day, waiting for him to emerge into the open, to take one of countless opportunities to remove John and snatch Finch-
“Finch.” He doesn’t know how long he’s been frozen in place. His hands are shaking, clinging to Bear’s leash like a lifeline, sweat chilling his skin. John is looking at him with kind eyes. “It’s time to go.”
It is. John stands just past the threshold. Focused on Finch, but with that unconscious awareness of his surroundings. Patience rolls off him. He will wait, exposed to the street, for as long as Finch needs him to. But there is an implacability too. If it takes all night for Finch to step across the threshold, John will wait all night for him, but Finch _will_ step out.
If Groves were out there now, John’s back is a perfect target.
This is the thought that drives Finch to take that next step. His legs lock up, which makes it easier in a way. His body might fail, but it will submit to his control. He forces his legs to unlock, to move across the divide between inside and out.
Hs is exposed. Out in the open world he is accessible on all sides. Countless angles, he couldn’t possibly cover them all. And in any one of the blind spots, she could be waiting. His breath catches.
A line of warmth presses gently into his side. John doesn’t push, just leans slightly against him, shoulder to hip. He doesn’t say anything; he’s not even looking at Finch. Finch can feel his attention though. Alert to everything Finch is and does, calmly ready to do exactly whatever is needed to protect him.
Against his other leg is Bear, a little warmer and a little less solid. Just as patient and, John assures him, just as loyal.
Finch breathes.
6. Hands on neck
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> John hasn’t taken two steps into the library and he knows that today is a bad day.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> For Kadian
John hasn’t taken two steps into the library and he knows that today is a bad day. Not for their number, she’s safely in police custody while Fusco puts together the evidence to charge her. Sure, there’s two kids in hospital with arsenic poisoning, but it’s better than the morgue. They’ve had worse days.
No, today is a bad day because Finch has been at his desk late into the night digging into Monique Kessler’s finances and at no point has he gone home. He’s shuffled papers around on his desk to try and hide it, even changed his vest. But John’s seen his emergency overnight bag, hidden in the periodicals, and knows that this particular clothing change has come from there. Finch is trying to hide it, out of privacy or embarrassment, but he slept at his desk again and now he’s paying the price. His back is painfully rigid and he’s making every effort to avoid turning his head, while trying not to look like that’s what he’s doing.
John hangs up his coat without commenting, takes his place behind Finch as the man pulls up the records tracing payments to Kessler from estranged spouses. Carter’s already following them up, probably putting cuffs on someone as John reads. It’s nothing they hadn’t already worked out. He’s more interested in the tight muscles in Finch’s neck, because he knows that it’s been months since his presence caused such strain.
He rests his hands on Finch’s shoulders, applying no pressure whatsoever, and feels the tension rack up another notch. Even now, Finch doesn’t trust being touched.
“What are you doing, Mr Reese?”
Instead of answering, because really, he has no answer, he brushes his thumbs up the sides of Finch’s neck. The muscles under his fingers are far too hard. Finch doesn’t tell him to stop, so he takes a leap. “Do you trust me, Harold?”
Finch swallows. “Of course, Mr Reese. You know that.”
The admission tugs some withered string in John’s chest. He pushes the lump in his throat down and murmurs, “Then trust me now. Relax.”
For a long minute they remain as they are. John wonders if he’s overstepped, pushed too hard. Whatever they have between them is fragile in the strangest ways, maybe he’s just shattered it. Beneath his hands, Finch’s muscles twitch. Then Finch inhales sharply, and John almost pulls back, awaiting a well-worded rebuke.
Instead, the tightness eases a fraction as Finch exhales wordlessly. Lets his neck relax. John slides his fingers up to cup Finch’s jaw on either side catching his head as it falls forward and holding him upright.
It’s a strange position. The ball of his palms rest over the carotid arteries and he can feel the faint thrum of Finch’s pulse. It makes him very aware of his hands. A killer’s hands, rough and scarred from combat. His grip is focused just under the jaw, almost perfectly positioned to break his neck- properly this time- supporting the fragile network of bone and titanium. His lower fingers rest over Finch’s trachea, his palms against either side of his neck. The windpipe is one of the most vulnerable places on the body, he could crush it without needing to move more than his fingers. Instead, he lets his hands sit as they are, warmth bleeding into taut, aching muscles. Presses his thumbs very gently into the muscles at the base of Finch’s skull. Finds almost no give in them at all. Rubs soft circles into them until the knots ease. |
dc5579acef56484796cfe243eb680acf | ['67edc96486f245b9bc86cf28ba02712b'] | “I see.” Her fingertips were the only thing remaining on the gun as she sat with them barely poised on its surface. “I was under the impression that my skills were required.” As she spoke, her knee brushed against his under the table, so briefly that Junkrat was almost sure it was an accident.
He swallowed, wondering if he’d offended her. “Hey, nah, I mean – f’you think you can, be my guest. M’not too good at the fiddly stuff myself.”
Apparently mollified, Symmetra resumed her assessment of the gun, occasionally pausing to select a tool from the box she’d plucked off the nearest shelf. As she gently pried the jammed screws free and ran an appraising finger over the worse dents and warps, Junkrat felt her knee gradually slide forward once more to rest against his.
He had no doubt that the movement was entirely unintentional – she was utterly absorbed in her work, and seemed to merely be propping herself against him to better free her arms – but it made him feel hot and uncomfortable nonetheless. Drumming his metal fingers on the table, he cast his attention around for a distraction, but felt his gaze inexorably drawn back to Symmetra’s face.
She wore an unsmiling, hard expression that spoke of deep concentration not to be disturbed. Silently he watched her twist a tiny screwdriver between finger and thumb, oblivious to the stray strands of hair falling in her eyes, or the warm pressure shared by their legs. He sat up watching her under the dimmed lights until his eyes grew heavy and heard the deep rumble of Roadhog’s snores to his left.
Symmetra remained wide awake, and she merely glanced up once at Roadhog.
“Long day,” commented Junkrat drowsily.
“Mm,” she said shortly, and he felt her legs withdraw from his. “You should get some sleep yourself.”
“What ‘bout you?”
She half-smiled. “I am used to short periods of sleep.”
Junkrat sneaked a glance at Roadhog to check that the other junker really was truly asleep. He decided to chance it, and leaned over the table towards Symmetra. “Oi…listen…”
“I suppose you want to apologise for earlier,” she said flatly, not looking up from the toolbox.
Her blandness took him by surprise. “What?” A small kernel of irritation formed in his chest. “What d’you mean?”
“I accept your apology,” she continued as though he had not spoken. “Although you shouldn’t worry too much. I’m willing to overlook it.”
“Hey, wait now – ”
“I’m only a bit surprised you get so readily distracted in the field. I won’t mention it to anyone but you should – ”
“Symmetra, would you fuckin’–” Angrily, he grabbed her wrist and pulled it away from the table. “– _listen_?”
There was a clunk as she dropped the screwdriver, and it seemed deafening in the slumbering ship. They stared at one another over the shrapnel of Roadhog’s gun, and as Junkrat felt her warm slender bones in his grip he wondered if she really was so truly oblivious as to write it off as a mere slight on his part.
Slowly she prised his hand off and straightened her shoulders. “You have my attention.”
Suddenly Junkrat didn’t want it. Angry and abashed, he slumped down and clasped his arms across his bare chest. “I just – I weren’t apologisin’, all right?” He glowered at her. “Was just…making sure – I mean…wanted to know…”
Symmetra held a hand up. “As far as I’m concerned we have no more to talk about. This is nothing to do with me.”
He had to suppress a laugh. “Fuckin’ hell…I mean…” How was he supposed to put this into words, to tell her that it had _everything_ to do with her, and that alluring way she walked, and the perfect pout of her lips, and that enticing curve of brown skin she displayed above her stockings?
Abruptly, Symmetra pushed the gun back towards him. “I’ve done what I can for now. It’s a little crude so I will need to think a little before I know how to proceed.” She got to her feet. “I will leave it in your hands for now.”
Helplessly, Junkrat watched her stalk away down the silent aisles of seating and bunks.
Next to him, Roadhog stirred. “Yer a fuckin’ idiot.”
“You shit!” yelped Junkrat, caught unawares. “I knew it, I _knew_ you were pretendin’!”
Roadhog shrugged. “Scarin’ the pretty girls away?”
“Yeah well,” grumbled Junkrat, shuffling to lay on his side along the bench. “Learned that one from you, didn’t I?”
7. Chapter 7
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> SO my first attempt at this chapter didn't work that well, and tbh I wasn't happy with it either! So here is a revamped version - less confusing and suddenly 102% more sexual tension because I came up with some new ideas. Hope you guys like this new version a little better :) Thank you for reading and all the kind comments, you guys are stars
Junkrat never thought he’d be glad to see the Gibraltar station again, but his bed made a welcome sight after the long journey. He would have been ashamed at the ease with which he sank into the freshly laundered sheets, but the comfort of a good night’s sleep overpowered all else and he was snoring within minutes.
He awoke to Roadhog dragging the covers off him. With a groan, Junkrat sat up and ground the palm of his hand into his face. “Nngh…What’s goin’ on?”
Roadhog pushed a slip of paper into his face. “Message.”
It took Junkrat a few bleary seconds to focus on the impeccable handwriting. _Mr. Roadhog. I took the liberty of removing your gun to the workshop. I hope you do not mind. I have finished some preliminary repairs if you would like to collect it at your convenience. Yours, Symmetra._
With difficulty Junkrat moved his dozy gaze back to Roadhog. “So? You not happy?”
His bodyguard grunted. “Nice of her.” | 2c657b9884ea4f4b963cc07c0ddacc59 | ['67edc96486f245b9bc86cf28ba02712b'] | “You really do have very little experience with omnics,” he said, clearly amused. “I assumed you already knew I do not eat, given that you have offered me no food.”
There was no accusation in his voice, but Zarya’s cheeks burned and she looked swiftly away. “How will you – last for the next few days?”
“With care,” he admitted simply. “Provided I do not exert myself too much I should be more than capable of surviving.” He patted his bag. “I also found a spare battery, and I can use solar energy in emergencies.”
“Oh. Well…good.”
“Shall we make a start? I think I will refrain from walking until we get to firmer ground. The snow is rather too much for me, I’m afraid.”
Watching Zenyatta move from standing to floating was a surreal experience. He sat backwards and drew his long legs up into a crossed position, as though ensconcing himself on an invisible surface that Zarya could not see. Briefly his entire body bobbed as the weight settled, and then he was still.
“Let’s go.”
She watched him float bizarrely off, leading the way across the blinding white snow. Trying to shake the strangeness of the situation, she gripped her bag’s straps and began wading after him.
\---
They walked in silence for the first hour, or at least, Zarya did. Zenyatta floated for most of the way until the thick powder snow gave way to icy rock, where he experimentally lowered both feet to stand upright. At first his slender knees trembled as his flat sandals struggled to find purchase on the slippery surface, but he quickly recovered and nodded satisfactorily.
“You are like Bambi,” said Zarya before she could help herself. She couldn’t help but smile at the frail looking omnic.
He put his head quizzically to one side. “Bambi?”
“Oh…it was an old film – very old. My brother and I used to…” She coughed. “There was a baby deer, he could not stand on ice either.”
“I will look it up,” he said with a smile in his voice.
After an hour of silence this brief exchange seemed to open a floodgate for Zarya and she realised how she had been craving conversation. As they continued along a steep, narrow path – her with one arm ready to steady Zenyatta if he slipped – she remembered something she had been meaning to ask.
“When you found me in the wreckage.”
Zenyatta was silent; it didn’t occur to Zarya that he might not want to relive that night.
“I wasn’t injured?” she pressed. “Only…it seems impossible. And I found blood…but I found no wounds.” Frowning, she raised one hand to her chest. “I did hurt but…not for long.”
They reached a particularly steep part and Zenyatta didn’t speak, apparently concentrating on finding suitable hand and footholds to lower himself down.
“Well?” said Zarya impatiently. “I am just making sure.”
“Of course you were injured in the crash,” said Zenyatta in a clipped voice. “I did what I needed to do. Closed your wound, and fixed your ribs, I believe.”
Zarya narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You are a medic omnic?” Her tone was one of disbelief.
“I am enlightened,” he answered unhelpfully.
“What does that mean?” she demanded, stopping in her tracks. “Tell me what you did to me!”
He too stopped walking, and turned back to face her. The sun had disappeared behind a pall of grey clouds, and in the rising wind and spray of powdery snow, he looked strangely alien. The effect was exacerbated by the slow orbit of his prayer balls. “By the grace of the Iris, I was able to heal you.”
She scoffed. “The ‘Iris’? What does that mean?”
A deep sigh. “You do not trust omnic culture; I appreciate that. I do not expect you to understand that which you do not trust.”
“I will trust it when you explain what you did!”
“Some might say that thanks are in order,” he retorted stiffly, and the orbs began whirling dizzyingly fast about his neck.
They both fell silent, the atmosphere uncomfortably frosty – and not just because of the mountain air.
Zenyatta clasped his hands at his breastbone and bowed his head, the prayer balls slowing to a halt, still spinning slightly on the spot.
“Forgive me,” he said, raising his head. “We should continue on. This way.”
Her fists trembled at her sides as she watched him hoist his bag a little higher and begin picking his way down the mountain once more. |
81a9a4f98c31419bb5abf8e9c7753adf | ['67f576e50cf14649afe09f82eb840087'] | “But I’m not scared,” Emma said, and Quinn knew she was telling the truth. “I’m not scared of Finn Hudson, and you’re going to have your day in court, Quinn. When I get through with you you’re going to be able to look him in the eyes and let everyone know what he did to you. He’s not getting away with it, Quinn.”
Looking at Emma, and hearing the confident way in which she spoke, made Quinn almost inclined to believe her. Here was a submissive, strong and bratty, secure in the relationship she had with her Dominant, but more importantly, secure in herself. It was apparent in the way Emma walked, in how she talked, her take-no-prisoners way of interacting with life and everyone around her. Quinn didn’t think she could ever dream of being that bratty with Miss Rachel, but for Emma it seemed to be easy – because she knew what to expect from Lana, and she knew that… Lana wouldn’t be mean to her? For Quinn, being with Miss Rachel was still something like navigating a minefield. Every day she grew a little more comfortable with their dynamic, but still in the back of her mind was always that worry, that fear that she’d do something wrong. But with Emma… it was almost like she knew she’d do things wrong, but that was okay. Because the relationship she had with Lana made even getting things wrong… not that big of a deal.
“Because they confront it and move on,” Miss Rachel said later that night when Quinn talked to her about it, and she snuggled Quinn closer on the couch. “Discipline and correction doesn’t mean that I can remind you of it two weeks after the fact, Quinn. I’m not going to punish you and hold it over your head months later, unless you repeat the same behavior that you were punished for initially. I don’t hold grudges, little one, and they don’t have any place in a relationship like this.”
“H-he’ll bring up everything I did wrong,” Quinn said, her arms tight around Miss Rachel’s waist. “And everyone will hear it and they’ll know—“
“They’ll know that none of this was your fault,” Rachel said firmly.
“But what if they don’t? What if all they see is me and everything he says and—“
“Come with me.”
Miss Rachel stood up suddenly, and Quinn pouted, annoyed at the lack of warm contact, but also more than a little worried. Miss Rachel’s voice had taken on That Tone, and Quinn wondered what she had done that warranted punishment.
“Miss Rachel? I-I’m sorry?”
“Shh.” Miss Rachel took her hand and led Quinn into the guest bedroom, stopping just in front of the wide mirror on the wall that spanned the width of the dresser underneath it. She stepped behind Quinn and turned her to face the mirror.
“What do you see?”
Quinn shook her head and looked away. “I don’t want to…”
“I know. What do you see?”
Quinn sighed, and looked. She made a face, watching as her reflection wrinkled up its nose. Her nose. “I don’t like my nose,” she said. “Finn always said it was too big. And… my chest is too small; he always said there was nothing for him to do anything with.” She let her eyes scan her body, and she shook her head. “My skin is all wrong, my butt is too big. My thighs, I… can we stop, I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“In just a moment,” Miss Rachel said, and moved so that her arms were wrapped around Quinn’s waist from behind, and her chin rested on Quinn’s shoulder.
“Do you want to know how _I_ see you?”
Quinn nodded, and Miss Rachel kissed her cheek. “I see a beautiful young woman. I see a perfect, cute little button nose.” She reached around to bop it with her finger, and Quinn giggled. “I see the most striking hazel eyes I’ve ever seen, and your chest…” Miss Rachel cleared her throat, and Quinn thought she detected a faint blush on her cheeks. She grinned in spite of herself. “Let’s just say that your chest and your rear end are absolutely lovely, and he had no clue what he was talking about. Your skin is beautiful, your smile is gorgeous. Everything about you, Quinn, is amazing.”
“Yes, but—“
“I’m not finished,” Miss Rachel reprimanded, and Quinn snapped her mouth shut. “Our image of ourselves is always going to be different from what is reflected to others. Finn saw you as one thing. I see you as something completely different. There are people at that trial who are going to see Finn’s side. They’re going to be idiots, but that’s beside the point. I know you think it’s all your fault, but there are those of us who know that it isn’t, and you’ll find out at the trial that more people will believe you than you think. They’ll see you for the beautiful woman I know and love.”
“Love?” Quinn whispered, staring at Miss Rachel’s reflection in the mirror.
Miss Rachel smiled, though it seemed a little sad. “Just try to trust me,” she said, and kissed Quinn’s cheek again.
“Now come on, you can help me fix dinner.”
“Yes, Miss Rachel.”
Hours later, Quinn lay in her bed, words coursing through her head and keeping her from sleep. Strength. Trust. Trial. Finn. Fear.
But most of all, Miss Rachel.
And love.
23. Chapter 23
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Triggers: Violence; abuse; descriptions of violence; intense descriptions of D/s.
>
> I cannot stress enough that if you are triggered by any of the above, you may want to skip this chapter. None of it is graphic, but this is an intense as all hell chapter.
Jesse had found Miss Rachel in the courthouse, as she and Quinn sat in the office after an even more productive meeting with Lana and Emma. | 3b4e0226fd584c709723a3361b36f6ca | ['67f576e50cf14649afe09f82eb840087'] | And that was not something she felt. Because she didn’t.
The rest of the day passed by in awkward near-silence. Rachel tried to make small talk, but her guest only answered her with one or two words, or didn’t say anything at all. Quinn seemed ill at ease, nervous, but when Rachel again mentioned that she’d maybe be happier back at McKinley House, she turned almost hysterical, begging not to have to go back. So they ended up sat on the couch all night, watching Rachel’s favorite trashy television shows (She had a particular affinity for Real Bratty Subs of New Jersey), and Rachel made dinner again. Pizza this time, and she was surprised when Quinn let out a little moan at the first taste. Rachel quirked an eyebrow and Quinn grinned a little, blushing and ducking her head.
It was so cute when she did that.
Rachel felt herself getting tired when the clock approached midnight, and a glance to her left showed that Quinn was already halfway there again. Arnie for his part was snuggled up at Quinn’s feet, snoring loudly. Rachel smiled, and reached out to gently shake Quinn’s shoulder.
“Quinn,” she whispered. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”
Quinn whined and batted away Rachel’s hand.
She laughed quietly to herself, and then tried again. “Bedtime now,” she said, a bit more firmly. “Come on, little one, let’s go.”
She felt every muscle in her body tense. It had slipped out so easily, so naturally… and then Quinn’s eyes opened. Rachel prayed she hadn’t heard. She nodded sleepily.
“Bedtime.”
Quinn changed in the bathroom into the pajamas she had borrowed – they really needed to go shopping, Rachel decided – and then stood holding onto the door, looking at Rachel. She smiled and led Quinn to the room across from hers, the one reserved for guests.
Done in a light shade of purple, she’d made considerable effort to fix it up even nicer for Quinn’s impending visit. There were books on the nightstand, even if they were about musicals. She had no idea what Quinn liked to read; she’d need to find that out. She’d also put on the nightstand a pitcher of ice water, as well as a glass. Water had always helped her if she was feeling unsettled or sad, so she wondered if it would do the same for Quinn. The light was on in the guest bathroom, though she kept the door shut, in case Quinn didn’t like the dark. The bed was done up with the comfiest sheets and blankets (new and washed) that Rachel could buy, and even a teddy bear rested against one of the three pillows against the headboard. Rachel caught Quinn smiling widely at it, and inwardly she cheered. She’d gotten something right, for once.
“I’ll just be across the hall,” Rachel said, as she helped Quinn into bed and tucked the covers around her. “If you need me, just call for me, and I’ll be here before you can even call again, all right?”
Quinn nodded. “Thank you, Miss Rachel. Good night,” was all she said.
Rachel pursed her lips, and nodded in return. “Good night, Quinn.”
Rachel lay in bed for what seemed like hours, thinking about things. She couldn’t believe what she had called Quinn, especially after she’d made a point of telling her that no, she wasn’t intending to be her Dominant, and that she in fact didn’t _want_ to. She wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize Quinn’s recovery. She wanted the woman to be whole again, whether it was with someone or not. That’s all anyone should ever want, Rachel kept telling herself.
But again she was trying to fight off the images that kept dancing her head, pictures of Quinn kneeling for her. Serving her. Kissing her, coming for her. Coaxing sighs and moans from her, feeling Quinn’s skin tremble and stretch under her striking hand.
No. No, she couldn’t think of that. She’d think of Broadway. Broadway and Barbra, all of her favorite shows. Cats. Les Miserables. Wicked. Quinn would make a good Glin- no!
Frustrated with herself, Rachel threw the covers off and got out of bed. Maybe watching some television would distract her well enough. Quinn’s door was open; Rachel glanced inside and stopped short. She’d been worried Quinn wouldn’t be able to rest well, being in a strange place, but it wasn’t Quinn sleeping that suddenly had Rachel slowly, quietly walking into the room.
Because Quinn _was_ fast asleep… curled up at the foot of the bed, against the bare mattress, her arm wrapped around the teddy bear. The pillows were still at the headboard, and the blankets had been pushed off into a pile on the floor. Had she been forced to sleep like this? Rachel asked herself. At the foot of his bed, like a dog, with her hair splayed out in golden tendrils on the sheets. Did he say that she was lucky he let her sleep with him, instead of on the floor?
Or maybe he made her sleep on the floor…
The thought was too much for Rachel. She sprang into action, as quietly as she could retrieving the blankets from where they lay. She draped one over Quinn, and then grabbed one of the pillows. Willing Quinn to stay asleep, to not wake up and discover her, Rachel gently, carefully, easily lifted her head just enough to tuck one of the pillows under. Quinn murmured as her head touched the cotton and Rachel stilled, her hands in midair, until soft sighs told her the girl was still dreaming. |
a64f8083e20a43f0b78b88baab2511d6 | ['67fcaf4c49ab451eaa470a905b066a6d'] | It was a good thing their neighbor was willing to watch Colton for the whole day instead of a few hours because Jared needed to decompress or he’d lose it. He’d never been so angry and sad at the same time. He’d wanted to hug him, throttle him, and sob some when he’d seen Jensen coming out of the cells. He hadn’t wanted to scream though so he just walked away no matter how much it hurt. They both deserved to hurt, to have the guilt over this plague them. Jared would never forgive himself for ruining Jensen further but he also couldn’t regret Colton. His marriage he regretted but his son he loved truly.
He knew it didn’t matter to Jensen though, there was no good outcome for him because of this whole situation. They were both stuck though. Divorce was possible he assumed but Jared didn’t want it, not really. Jensen might want to divorce Danni but Jared wouldn’t divorce or leave Gen til she forced him to. He couldn’t do that to Colton, he’d tough it out as long as he could. He had to, especially since Jensen had told him on Jared’s own wedding day that he better be sure because there was no going back. Jensen wouldn’t have him because Jared knew down deep there was no trust or love there other than a decaying kind that haunted them both.
** "When you can stop you don't want to, and when you want to stop, you can't..." **
** -Luke Davies **
Jensen had known it would be bad but he hadn’t realized how bad as he trudged up to his apartment and tried not to think about things. Life had been slowly spirling out of his control since Dark Angel. He’d gotten a handle on his life since he’d acted in the soaps. And he’d thought he was doing well. But all it took was being the other man in a love triangle to have his life crumble apart in his hands. Micheal hadn’t kept his big mouth shut as he had promised. And as soon as their relationship ended it was all over the hills just how slutty Jensen Ackles could be.
His career had taken a while to take off again after that. It was impossible to go to auditions and not get propositioned. Every one who heard the story from somebody else who heard the story thought he was easy when all he was, was heartbroken. But the CW had taken a chance on him and he’d proved himself on “Smallville” no one would deny that. And soon after he was proving himself as Dean Winchester and had been doing a damn good of it to.
But then he had to go and fall in love with his costar AGAIN. But this time he’d been cautious, he’d made them both sign agreements that would hold up in court. Jared had been shocked but understanding once Jensen had explained the real story behind all the rumors. But as soon as a pretty piece of pussy came around that was interested Jensen lost once again. Maybe he should become a woman, that would probably solve a few things but make him even more TMZ fodder than he already was. He’d thought all those years ago that he’d learned his lesson but obviously not when once again he’d got his heart stomped on.
Jensen in the end had a new relationship to work with and a career that was finally mattering so he gave in to Jared’s idea. But he’d warned the both of them when Jared the fool also got married that this was it, once this happened Jensen refused to be second fiddle again. So they’d gone back to be costars and sometimes friends. Never appearing as close as they once were but still close enough that the fans never truly caught on. Though thinking about it Jensen knew that would change, the fans and the whole world would know just how fucked Jensen was in general.
He had hope though, his lawyer had offered a plea deal for rehab and community service and it had been accepted. Thankfully he’d been released and he’d also been given a day or two to get things straightened out. For the next month after that he had a intense rehab to look forward to and didn’t that make him want to reach for the bottle again. And there it was sitting on the coffee table where he’d placed it after getting into the apartment and then settling on the couch. He’d been staring at it so long condensation was dripping onto the table and puddling. Just like his life really. Puddling before him and melting at his hot and hated touch. He couldn’t change things though, at least not the ones in the past. Leaning back some and ignoring the beer he was casually optimistic that maybe, just maybe rehab would help make him better, make him not able to feel this deep pit of despair anymore.
**“I picked up every piece and landed on my feet, I'm wide awake, need nothing to complete myself.” ~ Katy Perry** | 2daf8eb4233a4f2280bd8cc7af254483 | ['67fcaf4c49ab451eaa470a905b066a6d'] |
Greek Heat aka Harry & Petros's Love Affair Lasts For Life
**Author's Note:**
> So the characters, kink, and sentence prompt aren’t mine. So I loved gay Colin Firth in the movie and am damn determined to use Harry a lot in my creative craziness so here’s my first try. It's unbeta'd and rough but give it a look see and give me your thoughts.
Harry stretched his back out as he tried to move about the bed quietly. He didn’t want to face the day and he really didn’t want his companion to wake. When they were both up for the day things usually changed, life sped up. It was only at night that Petros and their relationship came alive. When they went to the only bar on the island and both of them had a chance to let loose. It was during those hot Grecian hours in between waking and sleeping that reality always set upon them.
Since the Greek wedding that wasn’t Harry’s life had drastically changed. Taking the advice of his newfound friends he had gone from living life sparingly to raging about full of spontaneous energy. Petros had only been the first of the changes he had made to his everyday life. Since his original plan for his vacation had just been for 2 weeks he’d had to make decisions. Especially since he’d found himself falling for a beautiful Greek man within days of his arrival to the island.
It was after the party, after the residual hangover, and after countless rounds of fantastic sex that Harry had looked in the mirror and decided to for once in his life be happy. He’d spoken with Bill and Sam and both men had encouraged him. He knew that his coming out had surprised everyone especially himself. But with Petros’s one night of love and encouragement, he knew what he wanted. He had asked Donna for a room to rent indefinitely and had been shocked by her reaction.
Sam and Bill he had understood, Donna had jumped into his arms and enthusiastically hugged him and said that not only was he welcome but Petros could stay or go as he pleased. The two men had never felt so welcome in their lives. Harry was dumb founded because he’d never faced such a calm acceptance of his sexuality. Petros had been shocked mainly because he hadn’t expected Harry to want to stay on the island at all or even in his arms alone.
But Harry had always fallen fast and when he did, he fell hard. And Petros had quickly taken his heart amongst other things in hand. It had been 6 months since Harry had moved to the island. He didn’t need to work, at least as a banker. Life had been too good to him financially for him to ever worry again. No, as he got more and more comfortable on the island and with Petros he’d decided to take things a little easier. The last months had seen him helping at the villa and working on a book. Petros had soon gone back to work as the town doctor but had been happy to have Harry in his bed at night.
Word from Sam and Donna was that the two men were considered very cute by all the locals. And Petros’ mum was the happiest of them all. Despite the structure of religion that most of the villagers followed, the two gay men had been earnestly accepted all around the island.
Harry had never been happier in his life. Which didn’t help explain his lack of enthusiasm at facing the day. It wasn’t depression or loneliness that caused him to be a lay-about most mornings, it was too simple really. He was happy, he was in love, and looking at the silhouette of his lover in the light of dawn was quite simply the most beautiful thing he ever saw. And he was lucky enough to see it everyday; that is if he stayed quiet and didn’t move. Petros woke with only the smallest movements to disturb him. It had befuddled Harry from night one, since when he’d woken up from his drunken stupor their first night sweating and sticking to the lightweight linen sheets that barely skimmed the lean lines of his lovers body but had him stifled. It was when he sought to move that his lover had felt it and had woken. And as nice as sleep was, it was at that moment that Petros’ had proven his virility and youth.
In the months since their meeting, Petros had left Harry with a near constant ache that caused pleasant twinges with every stretch and move. From breakfast to dinner, Harry felt the residual effects of his lover’s youth and every day he found himself deeper in love. But that didn’t mean that his struggling artists mind and eye didn’t clamor for chances like this one. He relished waking earlier than Petros and with a roving eye admiring his love’s form. It allowed him to remember the last day’s love affair with pleasure. It was in these moments that Harry was sure that if he had been a cat he would be purring. As it was Petros had woken some mornings and always interrupted Harry’s musings with a laugh. He’d mentioned it to him over breakfast one morning that everyday when Harry woke up he was absolutely feline. That had caused the dreaded but internally adored nickname of _Mon Minet (my kitty kat)._ Harry had at first been shocked by the demeaning French nickname, but after looking in Petros’ eyes, he knew the truth. It was at the very heart of his lover felt about him and after that realization; Harry had stopped giving the man grief.
That had been almost 4 months ago and Harry had never been happier. The two of them woke up in the mornings kissed a bit, shared a shower, and ate their breakfast on the patio while watching the ocean waves. He knew that his family back inEngland didn’t understand his actions but at the end of day, they didn’t need to. Harry had found himself on the beaches of this tiny Greek island and he stayed in touch with who he was when he was in Petros’ arms every night and looking him in the eyes every morning. |
749356f3e708419884db1271b250f319 | ['6818271d02f148c68f71398f3c75e768'] | “Wait I need to get a ride” Carlos said running after them almost falling in the process.
Jay and Evie laughed watching the white haired boy. “Wanna grab some grub at Ursula’s fish and chips?” Jay asked.
“I see what you’re doing” Evie murmured.
“Huh?”
“I said sure sounds good” Evie told Jay.
Jay and Evie walked towards the restaurant talking about their past year. However, in the alley’s shadow a crazy haired female silhouette cackled.
2. magnificent and marvelous!
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> An invitation? A happy reunion? And a unexpected team up.
The guard opened the door to the limousine to which Mal entered Carlos followed shortly after. “Mal!...and Carlos” Ben said already sitting inside the limousine.
“So is it true that my mother is human again?” Mal asked immediately.
Ben smiled glad that she seemed to be happy instead of worried that her mom may be human once again. “Yes, it does fairy godmother was told that someone saw a purple dragon roaming the woods”
Mal smiled but then thought about the report then asked “She wasn’t flying?”
“She’s been a lizard for a long time Mal she’s gonna be a little weak” Carlos commented before plopping a gummy bear into his mouth.
Ben and Mal both look at Carlos. “What that’s a logical guess” He told them.
“So we go to Evie’s house check out my mom’s little habitat” Mal said laying out the plan.
“Mmm.. cage” Carlos corrected.
“Drop him off at the end of the school and he’ll be walking back” Mal told the driver.
“Hey!” Carlos protest.
Mal just smirked and popped gum into her mouth. “Shouldn’t have made those comments”
——
Ursula’s Fish and Chips was booming with business. Pirates and Isle citizens just screaming their orders to the servers. Evie and Jay walked towards the front occasionally bumping into one of the servers who seemed to be on edge.
Gil walked out of the kitchen his hair in a hairnet and a kitchen apron wrapped around him. In his hands were two plates filled with food. “Oh hi guys!” Gil waved when he noticed the duo causing one of the plates to drop.
The plate fell to the ground shattering and the food spilling around the area. “I’ll fix that” He called before giving one of the customers the other plate then going back into the kitchen to look for a broom although it was in the broom closet near the bathroom.
“Jay.” Evie said in a concerned tone as she looked at the menu.
Jay sighed. “I’ll make everything is in control”
“Good cause Uma would try to kill us if the restaurant burned down” She replied.
The doors of the restaurant slammed open causing the bustle to go dead quiet. Standing at the doors stood Ginny Gothel sporting a new bob raven haired trim. She had traded her long ragged red velvet dress with a gold flower pattern for a gold velvet coat which she seemed to poorly cut near the waist and a red dress. “Greetings everyone!”
“Mal did it better” A random customer muttered.
Evie smiled politely remembering their last encounter with Ginny.
“Jenny how are you doing” Jay asked getting her name on purpose still upset over the fact her, the Gastons, Anthony, and Maddy had pushed Mal into crocodile infested waters.
“It’s Ginny and you know it!” Ginny snapped.
Ginny calmed herself down then said “Jay of Jafar and Evie of The Evil Queen your presence has been requested by an important figure”
“Pass!” Jay said turning his back to Ginny and walking towards the broom closet to clean up the mess.
Evie smiled then responded “No, thank you” then looking back at the menu to decide what she wanted knowing that the ingredients were now brand new and fresh due to her Ben bringing in fresh produce to the Isle.
Ginny looked panicked for a moment before speaking though it sounded more of a shout “This person has Fairy Godmother’s wand!”
This made Evie and Jay stop and share a look. Evie spoked first “So who is this mystery person?”
Ginny shrugged and smiled knowingly. “Come and find out”
Neither of them liked this. “Knowing the crowd you hangout with it’s either Maddy or Anthony” Evie commented.
“The invite is once in a lifetime opportunity” Ginny sung while she grinned.
Jay and Evie nodded they started walking towards the exit but Evie put her arm out stopping Jay. He was confused and was about to question her but Evie called out for Gil. “Gil!”
Gil came rushing out of the kitchen confused as to who called him. “Gil we’re going somewhere ditch the waiter attire” She told him sweetly.
Gil lost the hairnet and untied the apron. “Is that a problem” Jay asking Ginny noticing the shocked and possibly upset look on her face.
“No, not at all come along now” Ginny turned leading them out of the restaurant.
——
Jane arose from her bed where she was looking at color selections to answer the door. She opened it to see a tired and panting Carlos. “Carlos!?”
“W-..Water!” Carlos spoke his voice hoarse.
She opened the door wider allowing Carlos to come in. “Did you walk all the way from the Isle to here?” Jane asked.
Carlos laid down on the couch. “No just from the school to here”
“That......isn’t a far walk” Jane replied with a small chuckle.
“Didn’t feel that short” Carlos pouted.
Jane just smiled and walked over to the mirror on the wall tucking a strand of hair back into place her dress was a simple light blue dress with a pink belt. “Are you ready or do you need some time to regroup?”
“Go on without me tell my mom that I love her!” Carlos said dramatically.
Jane smiled. “Nope! No way I’m meeting Cruella by myself” She grabbed his hand jokingly attempting to pull him up. | 390b1e7b534c4f6e98c959b98a89cb22 | ['6818271d02f148c68f71398f3c75e768'] | Steve quickly bought the toy knowing that Krel would most likely enjoy playing with it. “Seamus is next” Aja told Steve as the person working at the register wrapped the gift, which Steve asked for as he didn’t want to test horrible wrapping skills.
“Oh I know what exactly to get Seamus I’m thinking a book of all the people who’ve been on the moon he saw it one day when we’re hanging out” Steve commented.
“To the bookstore” Aja said her sentence sounding more like a shout.
The couple walked to the bookstore with some pit stop in between the pit stop was them getting pretzels. They eventually made it to the bookstore they walked straight to the space section. Steve scanned the books looking for the exact one “There you are” He said picking up the book raising it like it was a medal.
“What about you Steve we have to get you something too” Aja said once they left the bookstore with Seamus’s present wrapped.
Steve thought about and made a plan for them to each pick a gift for each other the rendezvous point was the entrance and with that they went their separate ways.
—
Seamus and Krel eventually found a tree that was perfect. The paid for it and put it in the car. It was a little tight and some pine needles fell off but it was fine. Before returning to the Tarron house Seamus picked up some last minute ornaments at a convenience store. It took a half hour for the boys to put up the tree and another half hour to decorate it. The put it to the right of the tv.
“We’re back!” Aja shouted as a sign of her and Steve’s return. Krel and Seamus were cuddling on the couch while watching cat videos on Seamus’s phone.
While Aja looked at the tree in awe, Krel put the presents under the tree and Seamus made hot chocolate. Steve put a mistletoe on top of the door so when he left he and Aja would kiss making a nice Christmas moment.
The friends watched A Christmas carol while taking small pauses to explain somethings to Aja and Krel. Once the movie ended Steve handed out the presents out. Krel was confused to see the rubix cube. But once the boy started trying to make the colors align in one side he loved it. Seamus was pleasantly surprised to see his book he was shocked to see Steve had remembered him looking at the book.
“Oh Steve it’s beautiful” Aja said once she opened her gift which was a necklace with a heart shaped locket. Which Steve quickly put on her.
Steve loved his gift too which was the pointer stick that he got when he was king. “My staff how did you get it....you didn’t break into the school did you?” He asked worried that his girlfriend might get in trouble.
Aja shook her head “No a store at the mall had it they actually had a lot” She replied.
This kinda made his staff at school feel less special but the staff he held in hand would’ve beat the staff either way cause this staff was given to him by his wonderful girlfriend.
They’re was a nice and warm atmosphere until Seamus’s got a text from his dad telling him to come home. “Dad is telling me to come home Krel walk me out” He said looking to his boyfriend. Steve had forgotten about the mistletoe he planted as he was still in awe of his staff.
“Who put that green thing there” Krel asked pointing to the mistletoe. Steve then snapped out of looking at his staff.
“I’ve got to go to Aja walk me out” He said quickly.
Seamus blushed noticing the mistletoe. “It’s a mistletoe if two people stand under it then they have to kiss.”
Krel blushed “I think this is my favorite part of Christmas” The Latino said leaning in to kiss his boyfriend. Seamus learned in too completing the kiss.
Steve was too late there goes his Christmas moment. “Aw man Johnson you took my Christmas moment” He said bummed.
“So you put the mistletoe there so we can kiss why didn’t you just ask” Aja commented dragging the pronunciation of mistletoe. She then grabbed her boyfriend and pulled her into a kiss.
Steve had a dumb smile on his face as did Seamus. The Tarron siblings waved to their boyfriends. “I think Christmas is my favorite holiday” Krel told Aja.
“Mine too little brother” Aja replied. |
717b7f643d4347898eabf6c351b7cc12 | ['681d838bcee047218a6920ffe9edc89e'] |
Extra Credit (Chanbaek)
**Author's Note:**
> hi so like I wrote this for a straight imagine and now I'm doing it for these two lmao
Baekhyun frowned looking at the paper their professor handed them back. Another F.
Baekhyun was already failing English and this just made it worst. He knew if his parents found out they would be very disappointed in him.
"Some of you did pretty well on your research papers," Baekhyun looked up at his professor. "Others not so much."
He suddenly felt embarrassed and looked down. It was like their professor was singling him out.
"If you are not happy the grade you got, please come to talk to me after class. Now, turn to page 104 in your literature books."
Baekhyun turned to the page, still frowning about his grade.
Don't get him wrong, he was good at English, just not at writing papers. Grammar, spelling, and testing wise, he was amazing at. But give him a paper to write and he would draw a blank, his writing sounding like something from middle school.
All Professor Park did was make them write papers. The man felt that it was a good way to express your writing skills and a way to show your creativity.
Baekhyun wasn't very good at that and lacked all of it and he knew Professor Park already could tell. From all the Cs, Ds, and Fs he was getting, he had to know that Baekhyun was struggling in every way.
And maybe Professor Park was waiting for Baekhyun to come up to him one day and ask him for help instead of having to go to him. Maybe he thought Baekhyun could do it or handle it himself and was trying. Baekhyun really didn't know.
But he did know that he needed to fix his grade somehow and someway.
The bell finally ringed and Baekhyun watched as everyone put their books away, heading out while he stayed seated. He waited until the last person left, leaving only him and Professor Park left.
Baekhyun slowly stood up, paper in hand, and made his way to Professor Park's desk.
"Um, Professor Park?"
He looked up from his papers and looked at Baekhyun. Baekhyun froze.
Professor Park wasn't some old wrinkly man, aging away, spending his spare time teaching English to a bunch of kids like you would expect. No, he was a 27-year-old man who was extremely tall and looked extremely young for his age. And damn was he a fine looking man.
Everyone who had him in class basically drooled over him, including Baekhyun.
"Yes, Mr. Byun?"
Baekhyun blinked at him before shyly looking down, he can't believe he was just drooling over his teacher, right in front of him too.
"Um, I was wondering if-"
"Look at me when speaking Mr. Byun, be polite." Baekhyun nodded, raising his head up and looking straight into Professor Park's eyes.
His gorgeous eyes that made Baekhyun's knees weak.
He nodded at him. "Continue."
"W-Well I was wondering if I could do something to bring up my grade. Like extra credit wise? My parents will be disappointed in me if they find out I'm failing English."
He looked at Baekhyun with a stern look, eyes racking his body.
Baekhyun suddenly felt hot and nervous under his intense stare.
Professor Park smirked slightly, standing up from his seat. "Extra credit?" Baekhyun gulped and nodded, trying not to check him out.
Not like he would mind.
"Y-Yes, sir. I'll do anything to bring up my grade. I'm begging."
Professor Park raised an eyebrow at him. "Anything?"
Baekhyun bit his lip, slowly nodding his head.
Professor Park started rolling up his sleeves, making his way over to the door. "I have something in mind."
Baekhyun watched him lock the door, his palms suddenly becoming sweaty.
He turned to Baekhyun, making his way over to him. "But I need your permission and approval first."
He stood in front of Baekhyun, towering over him and making him feel small. He brought a hand up and caressed his face, making Baekhyun drop his paper. Professor Park stared at him, face so close to Baekhyun he could feel his hot breath on his.
"Do you want it, Mr. Byun? Extra credit?"
Baekhyun could feel where this was going and right now he didn't care.
Baekhyun whimpered and nodded. "Y-Yes Professor Park."
"Please, call me Chanyeol. Is it okay if I call you Baekhyun?"
Baekhyun nodded quickly and Chanyeol smirked, closing the distance between them and kissing him passionately.
Baekhyun at first couldn't believe it but he didn't question it because his body was reacting to this.
He wanted this.
Chanyeol pushed Baekhyun towards the desk, making him sit on it, his mouth never leaving the others.
Chanyeol's large hands made their way to Baekhyun's button up, popping it open and running his hands up and down the boy's bare skin.
Baekhyun moaned against his mouth.
Chanyeol leaned back. "Take it off." Baekhyun nodded, shrugging off the button off and throwing it to the side.
Chanyeol leaned back in, mouth attacking Baekhyun's throat before going down to his chest, his mouth making its way to Baek's left nipple.
Baekhyun leaned his head back, grabbing Chanyeol's hair.
Chanyeol's tongue circled Baek's nipple, flicking it with his tongue before sucking on it. His other hand was rubbing the right nipple between his fingers.
Baekhyun sat and whimpered, feeling himself leaking just from Chanyeol playing with nipples.
He released his mouth from his nipple, trailing down Baek's stomach, stopping above his pants. "Take these off for me baby." Baekhyun bit his lip, nervously taking his pants off.
Chanyeol's eyes darken as he saw Baekhyun's black laced panties. Baekhyun's face heated up.
"Naughty, naughty boy baby." Chanyeol pushed Baekhyun back down and spread his legs open. Chanyeol got down on his knees and leaned forward and placed a kiss against his front, causing Baekhyun to shiver. | 82b797e976394096a4e7068628fd2477 | ['681d838bcee047218a6920ffe9edc89e'] | I smiled as he turned the stove off, handing me a plate before sitting down. I sat down across from him, eating silently.
He watched me, not touching his food at all.
"Tell me something Baek." I nodded for him to continue. "Why do you like older guys?" I smiled at the question.
"Well, guys my age don't know how to treat me. Don't know how to touch me. Don't know how to love me good. They don't know how to keep me." He raised an eyebrow at me. "So what makes you think an older guy will?"
I smirked, standing up and walking over to him, sitting down in his lap.
His arms wrapped around my waist while my arms wrapped around his neck. I leaned up and whispered, "Because I know guys my age will never do anything to me as good as you did, Daddy."
I felt his grip tighten around my waist as I pulled back to look at him.
His eyes were dark and filled with lust.
"Actually," I smirked. "No one will be able to do anything as good as you did daddy."
"Fuck, I'm never getting rid of you. I hope you know that." I smiled wide. "I was hoping you wouldn't."
"So this is more than a one night thing?" I smiled slightly and nodded. "Yeah, it's more than a one night thing to me." He smirked slightly and leaned forward, "I like the sound of that." He kissed me slightly.
We pulled away and I frowned at him. "You didn't eat your breakfast."
"I told you I changed my mind about what I want to eat."
I smirked slightly. "And what would you like to eat?"
"You."
"I'm all yours."
**Author's Note:**
> Hope you all enjoyed! |
c31722cfc6934bbfb24b864eae331b18 | ['68444a9729c8473b870e8471bc9150a5'] |
we're monumental
Minato kicks at one of his unpacked bags of luggage he hasn't bothered to unpack, despite the couple of months he's been living at his boyfriend's uncle's house, knocking it off the couch with a thump to give himself some more legroom. It's not like he owned much, unlike Souji, so even if he wanted to settle in completely it wouldn't matter. There'd be no room for him or his mess. He sighs, glancing at the bag he kicked and proceeds to groan as he sees some a good half of his clothes has fallen out of the bag messily and out of annoyance he gives the bag another kick, only succeeding in knocking more of his mostly useless crap out of it. The scene beneath him does nothing but irritate him, which is pointless. There’s no use in getting upset over a mess he made himself and he knows this so he bites down on his lip a little too hard until the feeling dies down.
Mess forgotten, mostly, his attention returns back to the dull light coming from the old laptop sitting in his lap. It’s rundown, taped together, and barely works. Just like him, he thinks, and the thought is almost funny enough to make him let out a bitter laugh. Minato doesn’t, though, because it wouldn’t do anything and it was too much effort than he was willing to exert at the moment. Between the email he has open on his laptop's screen and the lack of his boyfriend’s presence, he was drained of anything positive he had been previously feeling. Which was pretty typical. It didn’t take much to get him feeling absolutely nothing but that’s normal for him. Every shitty thing was normal for him.
With one last look over the email from his twin sister and about how happy she and her girlfriend were visiting Bebe in France, he shuts his laptop and puts it on the coffee table next to him, lays back on the couch, and heaves a weighty sigh. He almost feels bad for how much he doesn’t care about what his sister has to say but he can’t even bring himself to feel that. God, does he want to, he really does but he knows it’s useless to force anything so he’ll save his response for whenever he does feel something again. Which he hopes is soon, because he knows that it never ends well when he stays like this for too long.
The sound of the door opening catches his attention and Minato sits up a bit, looks over his shoulder as he watches Souji walk into the room, with a smile on his face. The same smile he always has. The same smile that Minato always wants to kiss.
“Wow. Took you long enough. I didn’t realize dropping Nanako off to her friends house would take you a million hours.”
Souji snorts at Minato’s words, shaking his head and stepping over to the edge of the couch to lean down and press a quick kiss against Minato’s lips.
“I missed you too.” Souji says, humming lightly as he pushes some strands of Minato’s hair out of his eyes. “You need a haircut.”
Minato rolls his eyes, letting himself flash something of a smile at that. Souji’s words were an understatement and they both knew it. He can’t even recall the last time he got a haircut. It was so long he had it in a ponytail that was practically the same length of his sisters. Not only that but it wouldn’t hurt to fix his roots. The natural black was starting to show again but he had just been too tired to do anything about it lately.
“Is something up? You looked sort of mad when I walked in.” As always, nothing flies out of Souji’s radar and it’s just annoying enough to cause Minato’s smile to falter but not enough to sour his mood even more.
“I always look sort of mad. I have resting bitch face.” He says and Souji laughs a little at his words and it’s enough to bring a smile back onto his face.
It’s not like he doesn’t appreciate Souji’s concern, he does. Knowing someone genuinely cares is amazing and surprisingly helpful. Not helpful in helping him actually speak out about what bothers him but helpful in thinking maybe he’s not such a lost cause. Which is more than enough right now. There’s nothing wrong with taking baby steps, he hopes.
Silence falls over them and it’s not unwelcome or uncomfortable. They’re both quiet people and always have been and Minato doesn’t mind that at all. In fact, he even prefers it to having someone who would constantly try to fill the silence with idle chatter. It’s nicer this way, easier, he’s used to it. He could almost even call it ‘homey’.
His eyes roam over to Souji, who’s moved and started to idly pick up the mess Minato made earlier. The action isn’t surprising or anything. This is his room, afterall. Plus he always has been a bit of a clean freak. Compulsive cleaning tied in with the anxiety issues he was reluctant to admit he has and it’s just one of the few faults he had. Because he was a person too. Sometimes Minato had to remind himself that.
“Hey, would you wanna maybe go for a drive?” Souji’s voice speaks up from the silence as he finishes putting Minato’s clothes back into the bag it had previously been in.
It’s a sudden question and Minato tilts his head to the side slightly, cocking a brow and giving him a curious look. He says nothing because he knows he doesn’t need to. While he still isn’t the most expressive person in the world, he’s been getting better and Souji’s been with him for so long now there’s little doubt he doesn’t already know Minato is wondering why he offered so suddenly. | 24c8c73cdde7460ea0f7f01641fc5bf7 | ['68444a9729c8473b870e8471bc9150a5'] | Inaba Pride Exhibit proves to be entirely too exhausting. Between the sudden spike in the strength of the shadows and the fact a lot of the Gekkoukan kids pent up frustrations towards each other had started to collapse in on itself in the middle of exploring labyrinth. Too much happening all at once and Minato wishes it wasn’t because really he’d never been adept with dealing with other people's feelings even if his social links said otherwise.
It's the first time he actively seeks out Souji because really he _needed_ the other leaders company right now. Finding the co-leader isn’t nearly as difficult as he imagined. Unlike the Gekkou leader, he was almost _always_ with at least one of his friends. This time it’s Souji’s magician who’s with him and when Hanamura sees Minato making his way over he gets up, makes some excuse to walk off. Whether it was because of fear of him or giving the two leaders space, Minato wasn’t sure and didn’t really care.
“...Hey.”
“Hi.” the other wildcards smile is still as amiable as always and he watches as Minato rubs at the back of his neck in a manner of vague discomfort. “Are you alright…?”
Only offering a nod at the question, he shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his pants. There’s a few moments of some awkward silence but Souji’s patient with him, like he _always_ is.
“So...uh...do you…” he's not used to asking anyone to spend time with them it’s always been the other way around and he has...no idea what he's doing in all honesty so he gazes down at his feet, hair falling in his face to cover his flush at his own incompetence. “Do you wanna do something together…?”
More silence fills the cafeteria and souji gives him a surprised look which turns into a smile as he leans forward, cheek resting on his hand.
“Minato...are you asking me on a date?” the sarcastic condescending tone is unappreciated and Minato let's it be known in the noncommittal noise he makes in response.
“It’s…it’s whatever you want it to be.”
There's a look of joy on Souji’s face that Minato doesn’t think he's seen before and it’s enough to have his heart skipping beats and suddenly he forgets why he was even exhausted to begin with.
“I’d be happy to." The other fool stands from his seat in the food court, takes the blue haired boys hand and threading their fingers. "In fact, you didn’t even need to ask.” |
363c0626df334b8fb794fbae63fd2bf8 | ['6862e60665b6471ea16f6cb056569980'] | There was a reason Edison didn't like hospitals and it was this. Tesla was laying on the bed on his side, he was curled in on himself his one good arms wrapped around his waist, and Ediso was positive his boy wasn’t supposed to have red dry speckles near his mouth. So Edison slowly walked towards the bed, and kneeled down, hating how Nikola was whimpering in pain.
“Nikola?” Edison asked putting a hand gently on the boy’s shoulder, only to be surprised when he moved into the touch. Was he really in that much pain he was seeking physical attention from him?, “Do you want to tell what’s the matter?”
Nikola just shook his head and curled a little more in on himself and Edison felt himself go in to hug him before he could stop himself. Well if he was honest it wasn’t really a hug, but more of Edison trying to cover Tesla’s top half in a reassuring way, something the other man seemed to appreciate since he snuggled closer in to Edison’s embrace.
It really didn’t do anything to calm Edison’s nerves, although when Tesla started to mumble against him, that’s when his nerves calmed down a little. He really couldn’t make out what Tesla was saying, so he pulled away a little bit.
“Can you speak up Nikola? What’s the matter?” Edison asked, only to be a little shocked when Tesla pulled away and noticed he was crying.
Tesla sniffled a little and pulled away from Edison now situating himself to sit up, “I- I said thank you, for everything the room and the-“ That’s when Edison noticed he was starting to heave, “I-please get a _ nurs-“ _
_ That was the only warning he got before Edison’s whole front side was covered with blood. _
Edison stood up, making sure Nikola was situated, who was still spewing up blood, before running out of the room yelling for _ anyone. _ “Nurse! I need a Nurse or Doctor here now!”
That’s when he pushed aside, a doctor running into the room, holding something Edison couldn’t quite see, he tried to go back in he really did but someone pulled him aside. Edison tried to pull away, struggling against the woman he could now tell was a registered nurse holding him back.
Edison felt tears prickle his eye “Let! Me! Go! My boy needs me woman-“ then he was suddenly stuck in a headlock.
“Mr.Edison you need to calm down, the only thing you would in this situation is upset Mr.Tesla” Edison heard the woman sigh, “Now, I’m going to let you go and we’re going to get you some new clothes. Understood?”
He honestly would have disagreed but the woman holding him tightened her grip on his neck just a little tighter. “Fin-fine. Just let me go.”
Then the she demon let him up thankfully and he could finally get a good look at her name tag. K.Wilson, that’ll be a name he’ll have to remember, especially since she knew when to use necessary force on someone. “So, She Demon, can you show me the clothes?”
In return to his question the nurse had the _ audacity to _ give me a dirty look and putting her hands on her hips, “Excuse me?” She stepped up and poked him on the chest, “I think you meant to put a ‘please’ somewhere in there.”
“You’re right, can you _ please show _ me where the clothes are She Demon?” Edison groaned, very much not appreciating being treated like a child. But it seemed to work as the woman she motioned him to follow her down the hallway.
But she wasn’t taking him to the usual designated area, she seemed to be shifty and taking sharp turns, before dragging him into an empty hospital room and shutting it behind them and locking the door. When she turned around, that’s when Edison noticed how upset she looked _ disturbed _ the she demon looked. To be honest, Edison felt his stomach dropped at her look.
“Mr.Edison…” the She Demon hesitated, and Edison felt like that wasn’t a common occurrence, “Look, I’m going to be straight to the point, I’m going to need you to sign some documents, and sign them as Multin Tesla.”
Edison blinked, out of everything he was expecting, he wasn’t expecting _ that. _ But he hesitated before speaking, “Why?”
The She Demon pulled out some papers and handed them to Edison, and a pen. She was all prepared for this then wasn't she? “Because we need a guardian or someone in charge, look it's not just and infection hurting Mr.Tesla.”
“What?!” That got his attention, “What else is going on?!”
The She Demon just shook her head walking towards a closet pulling out some clothes, “There’s a forgein object in Mr.Tesla’s body, and that's what’s causing him to vomit up blood.” She put the clothes on the bed next to him, “I heard the head doctor McCoy talk about it, and thats what has me worried. You need to sign these papers and have his doctors switched _ fast.” _
Edison just nodded and quickly found the paper he needed to sign making sure to put M.Tesla in a more beautiful cursive then his own and handing it to the She Demon who gave him a very nice,warm, smile and walked out of the room. Edison quickly made sure to change into clean clothes and walk out of the room, making sure Tesla’s doctor was changed and put a surgery in process. He all but ignored Henry through the whole process of that and sat numbly in the waiting room.
_______
Tesla felt, fuzzy and numb and… He just felt _ good _ . It was better then earlier that was for sure. | 5809f0001ee8447f98dd48b6f46401e9 | ['6862e60665b6471ea16f6cb056569980'] | Just like that a switch _ flipped. _ Soon Tapputi was everything and nothing, she was the questions and the answers, she was one and many or nothing at once. It felt, she _ felt _ , which in itself shouldn’t have been possible, she was deader a door knob, yet she could feel her body pull and stretching in ways it wasn’t meant to. It was such an agonizing pain and bliss at the same time, but now, she wanted it to ** _stop._ **
Soon Tapputi was standing up holding her knees breathing in air that was awfully sweet. Someone was rubbing her back but she couldn’t bring herself to care, she was here and goddamnit she needed to breath a little more _ thank you _ . It took a few minutes to compose herself, but once she did, she stood up looking around when Tapputi’s eye landed on something, no, _ someone _.
If that someone was bright, and their body was more light then actual body. Almost as fast as her eyes landed on them, she knew who they were, and what they wanted and patted her back until she was steady. So Tapputi stood up a little straighter and gave them a little smile, "Well, how about you magic us some food and chair and we can talk God?"
Instead of a verbal response, they glowed a little brighter and the room felt airy and calming. This was most certainly gonna be one of her more calming talks, this was going to be nice.
27. Teeth
Albert learned early on that the dream realm was a very fickle place, even from the first moment he had a real sleep after Albert knew it was a dream. Then very quickly Albert learned while dreaming he control over _ everything. _
If he wanted to fly he could fly, if you wanted to taste the sweetest candy he could, everything he could want Albert just had to imagine it. Even now content in this dream he was dreaming, Albert was eating the juiciest mango _ ever _ , it didn’t even have a pit!
“Ah, now that was a mango,” Albert said, rubbing the juice off of his face, “Now, what else shall I do before the night ends?”
As he stood up and looked around the field Albert called his dreamscape, he couldn't help but smile. This was his time, this was his hero time, with that final thought he lifted his arms and the ground, no the whole environment began to change. Where once lush green fields were were no concrete streets, the tree’s they became buildings. It was almost exactly like the day him and the rest of The Super Science Friends fought Edison.
Albert squinted his eyes and stuck out his tounge, “Okay, now….” Albert stuck his arms out in front of him, and the figures of The Super Science Friends and Edison with his lackey Ford. “Okay there we go!”
“Now we're getting somewhere!” Albert bobbed his head, making sure he positioned everyone before running to stand next to Tesla, “Let’s get this party started”
Then it all begun
Tesla grabbed Albert’s shoulders lifting him into the air, “Tapputi, you take Frued and the others in the car! Me and Albert are going to try and catch him in the air!”
Just like that Tesla was lying in the air, while Edison was trying to shoot them with the direct current gun. Each current didn’t them though, Tesla made sure of it, every time a current was shot out Tesla would dodge it, it was just so _ exellertating. _
Then before Albert could even notice, the bright blue skies were getting cloudy then there was thunder in the distance, but he couldn’t keep his focus on it for long though when Tesla dropped him gently next to him and in a fighting stance. Albert could only do nothing more than smile and clutch his fists into his sides.
“This is the last stop Edison!” Tesla smiled down at Albert before giving Edison a triumphed smirk, “Me and my kid finally got one up on you, now just hand over the electricity and then this can all blow over.”
“Yeah Edison!” Albert pointed a finger out in front of himself, “I’ll only kick your ass a little bit!”
Then everything went black, not all at once though, Albert only noticed when it surrounded them. Then even Edison and Tesla were engulfed in the pure blackness, then Albert was floating in this pure darkness.
“What’s going on- _ Hrk _ ” Albert coughed his hands coming to cover his mouth automatically, and that's when he felt something solid hit his hands. As he cautiously brought his hand away from his mouth Albert felt his stomach drop.
There in Albert’s hands, was _ teeth and blood _ . Albert felt his eye twitch in fear and felt another coughing fit bubble up through his chest. It hurt, it also hurt when Albert felt more teeth fall out or loosen with every cough. It was horrifying and there was nothing Albert could do to make it stop. Why couldn’t he make it stop?! He had full control here, he was the master of his whole dreamscape!
Then Alb eat was on his knees, just hacking and hacking, no sign of this even stopping appearing to ease him. It wasn’t even just teeth he was coughing up now either, what was once something that could easily be replaced suddenly became _ more. _ Soon, it was his tounge and the blood pouring out of his mouth with every cough, at this point his whole chest was hurting-no- his whole body felt like it was on fire. It got to the point where Albert could only float on his side in the inky blackness blood dribbling out his mouth and then- |
7c9dad7e96684fce927b0b7fa9533296 | ['686e2824062444198df1678206188fb6'] | 3. of brunch and conversations
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Do you all see both end notes on the second chapter? I'm a total AO3 dweeb, so it might only be showing up on my screen? If you know what it's about, or if you don't see it, please lemme know.
>
> Alright, a lot of talking coming. I hope it's clear enough to get through. Bold means text message, but I'm sure you get that.
Ava was in front of her mirror again. Looking. Deciding. Simple black jeans. Could be warm, but The Bureau usually kept it cool inside. She went for it. Now for the top. This wasn’t a date, or a business dinner, but it wasn’t Sunday on the couch either. _Jesus Christ, just pick something_. She grabbed a light and slightly flowy blue t-shirt. _Alright. Good._ She wondered what Sara would be wearing but showed it out of her mind. It was probably just about the case. A casual lunch discussing the case.
Ava walked into The Bureau a few minutes before 11, only to find Sara at the same table they sat by yesterday. Various plates of food were scattered on the table. And two cups of coffee. The summersaults in her stomachs made some extremely shitty landings in the moment their eyes met. Ava fought back a cough.
“Ava, hey” Sara greeted her, standing up to shake her hand. She was wearing a sundress. A very cute sundress with vertical stripes, Ava was suddenly struck with how gorgeous vertical stripes were.
“Hi, what’s all this?” Ava pointed to all the food on the table.
“It’s food, Ava” Sara laughed “It’s the infamous brunch food platter, according to the guy behind the counter”
“Brunch food platter?” Ava turned around to see Nate give her a subtle wink. _Dork._ “Right, the one and only” They sat down, Ava took in the various, delicious looking food covering the surface in front of her. They ate in silence for a while, it was strangely comfortable considering they met two days ago. French toast had always been Ava’s favorite breakfast food, but she hadn’t bothered to make any in a long time.
The coffee cups were almost empty, and the amount of food had slowly decreased. Nate came by to refill their coffees and cleared off a couple of empty plates.
“How was the food?” he asked cheerfully, as only Nate could while working on a Sunday.
“It was delicious, thank you Nate” Ava replied and smiled at him.
“Yeah, thank you, it was really good” Sara said and picked up her cup to take a slow sip. Nate beamed and brought the plates behind the counter and walked though a door leading to the small kitchen.
“God, that was really good, the French toast was amazing” Ava said dreamily and leaned back in her chair, coffee in hand.
“You like French toast?”
“Love it” Ava took a sip of her coffee before a thought hit her like a small train “wait, did you already pay for the food, I can pay you back” Ava said, already having set her cup down, searching though her purse.
“No, really, don’t worry about it, I just won this lawsuit thing, it’s on me, I invited you anyways” Sara stated firmly, not leaving room for discussion.
“You don’t have to get me brunch just because I lost the case you know” Ava said. So _that’s_ what this was about.
“No, not like that, I just meant… It’s not about that at all. I was just joking” traces of panic flitted on Sara’s face making Ava feel bad about her outburst.
“Sorry, I just… I get a little… defensive sometimes” Ava fidgeted uncomfortably with the hem of her shirt.
“Was that a pun?” Sara asked in a teasing tone, panic almost entirely gone from her face.
Ava took the little tension destroying hammer Sara was offering and smiled at her.
Ava’s phone gave a little bleep, and she checked the screen _god damn Gary_ she thought as she put it back on the table.
“So, who’s blowing up your phone?” Sara asked after the third bleep in a row.
“Oh, it’s just Gary”
“Boyfriend?”
“No, no he’s just a friend, anyways I’m not the boyfriend kind, Gary is though. He keeps sending me pictures of his boyfriend John at the beach. They moved to Aruba three months ago.”
“Wait, John? It’s not John Constantine is it?”
“Yeah, you know him?”
“Oh my god, hold on” Sara reached for her phone, pressed some buttons and turned the screen towards Ava “Is that your friend Gary? Cause John keeps sending me pictures of him!”
“Oh… my god. Yeah, that’s Gary. My friend Gary. In a neon green speedo. Never ever in my life did I think I would see Gary in a neon green speedo. No please zoom out, oh my god” They broke down laughing. Ava felt light, happy. It felt good to laugh.
“They seem really happy though” Sara said wistfully.
“Yeah, I remember when Gary first told me about John, he couldn’t stop blushing, he was so giddy.”
“I think John said something about a damned cute little office bloke, he never uses the word cute, so I kind off knew something was up.”
“Your detective skills are somewhat impressive Ms. Lance.”
“Well, it helped me take down Dirtbag Fraudman, so I’ll take it”
“Sounds like the worst superhero ever” Ava stated simply and Sara laughed in response.
“All my friends told me there was something off about him, too many w’s, but I didn’t listen.”
“You do know it’s still not your fault, right?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Sara shrugged.
“He does have a lot of w’s though, maybe they’re onto something.”
“Three is kind of a lot.”
“Www, like the world wide web”
“Yeah, world wide web of lies.” Ava snorted at that, and Sara’s smile made it impossible not to smile back. | 3c0ff221cfef410d87c19cdbee625bbf | ['686e2824062444198df1678206188fb6'] |
Hot Mom Stuck
**Author's Note:**
> This is my first fic, so don't be too hard on me :) . Constructive criticism is always welcome, and general comments are appreciated.
> www.lookforwardtoyourfight.tumblr.com is my beta, blame her for any mistakes, even if it's my fault, blame her, it'll make you feel better.
>
> The situation is from a porn movie, although I took some creative liberties. The porno has the same title as the fic, and you can find it on pornhub, youporn, whatever. I can send you a link if you don't find it.
Emma Swan is walking up the driveway to Regina Mills house. Every now and then, she thrusts her foot out ever so slightly, making it look like she has a weird limp. Silently begging that no one notices that she is wearing looser pants than usual, she walks up to Regina’s door. After knocking twice and waiting for a while, she opens the door by herself and walks inside.
“Henry, honey, is that you?” Regina calls out from somewhere inside the house. She sounds a little breathless and the front of Emma’s pants suddenly feels a little tighter.
“No, it’s Emma. Are you okay?” Emma answers, a worried tone in her voice. “Where are you?”
“I’m in the kitchen, I might need some help,” Regina answers, the last word ending with an ‘unf’, like she’s pulling on something. Emma quirks a brow, and starts walking towards the kitchen, still thrusting her foot out with every other step.
“What’s wro-“ Emma stops in her own sentence, as well as her steps. Regina is leaning over the sink, ass thrust up in the air, legs clad in white sweatpants-ish yoga leggings, shoulders bare, and muscles rippling visibly.
“Are you wearing a tank top?” Emma asks, dumbly, her mouth feeling extremely dry. The brunette also seems to be without a bra, and a black G-string is visible beneath the pants.
“Well, I wanted to see what all the fuzz was about, and also, does that seem to be the most important thing right now?” Regina snaps back. She turns her head around and looks at Emma, a hint of panic in her eyes. Emma stares, any sarcastic comment gets lost in the back of her throat, her feet seems to be glued to the floor, and her eyes seems to be glued to Regina’s ass. Her breathing becomes heavier, and she definitely did not choose loose enough pants.
“When you’re done staring, can you move over here and help me? I’m stuck for heaven’s sake!” Regina says, and she is indeed stuck. Her hand is lodged in the garbage disposal, and she cannot seem to get it out no matter how hard she tries, not even with magic. Stupid modern appliances. Emma finally seems to shake it off, and moves toward Regina.
“What do you want me to do?” Emma asks. Regina thinks for a while, and sighs.
“Just grab a hold and try to pull me loose.” Regina says, settling for the physical solution. Emma tilts her head in confusion, making her look like a puppy who is uncertain if it gets to eat the treats. Regina rolls her eyes, and gives Emma a glare that clearly says “just get on with it Ms. Swan”.
Emma’s hands find Regina’s hips and tries to pull her gently.
“Seriously, that’s all you got, I want to get out of here before Monday, if that’s not too inconvenient for you,” Regina says, snarky as ever. Emma clenches her jaw in frustration, wraps her hand entirely around Regina’s waist, and pulls on her again.
“What the hell is that?” Regina ask suddenly. “Are you… Do you have a…? What the fuck are you pressing against my ass?” Emma’s head snaps up, and a blush forming on her cheeks.
“I… Uh… I was just messing around with magic… And something went wrong, and I don’t know how to fix it, I don’t even know how it happened, and…” Emma traces off from her rambling, Regina is snickering.
“You have a penis? And you don’t even know how you got it?” Regina manages to get out between the laughs. Anger and frustration bubbles up in Emma, it’s not her fucking fault she’s having a boner.
“Don’t fucking laugh,” Emma says angrily, and pulls on Regina, harder this time, but she’s so frustrated and distracted, she only pulls herself into Regina. Her dick lines up with Regina’s ass crack perfectly and both women lets out a whimper.
“Ok, fine, just try to get me out of here, alright?” Regina says, trying to regain her composure.
Emma nods, wraps one hand around Regina’s waist, and bunches the other one into her tank top. She pulls again, and again, feeling her dick against the restrain of her pants. Her hips rolls a little more than necessary and her breathing is labored, but she tries to pass it off as a result from the physical activity.
“I think it budged a little, keep going,” Regina says, slightly breathless too. Emma takes a harder hold on the other woman and pulls again. She pulls a little too hard on her tank top, and the fabric slides off and reveals a perfect breast, with a very, very stiff nipple.
“Oh, Jesus,” Emma says as she feels her dick jolt with the sight.
“Oh my god,” Regina utters, looking slightly mortified. Her nipples says otherwise.
“Regina, I am so sorry,” Emma says, even though she doesn’t look sorry at all. Regina pulls on her tank top so it hides her breast again. Emma loosens her grip slightly and looks awkwardly over at Regina. The brunette rest her chin on her palm, trying to control her breathing.
“There is some baby oil in my nightstand, we can try using that,” Regina says finally.
“Baby oil?” Emma asks.
“I seriously want to get out of here, I’ve been embarrassed enough for today,” Regina answers. |
5e9d3f72f37f40fa93a4ae21e3c0c88f | ['6871cff4b8e644659422140a0276d73a'] | I am not cleaning this mess. | Technically they were under your watch sweetheart. | I asked you to come over and help me with the kids while I wrapped up Peeta’s Christmas gifts. | You should have known better than to leave me with them while they were trying to bake cookies for the boy. | So are you telling me that I should take full responsibility when I was not even in the place by the time this happened? | Yeah, pretty much. See you later. | _Katniss was still figuring out what to do with her two kids covered from head to toe with flour, and she did not even wanted to start on how to she will clean the before pristine kitchen of her husband when Peeta entered the place. He had a grocery bag that covered his face so he did not see the egg yolk that tripped him._ | Look what you did Peeta! I will go take a bath with the kids so you can clean up this mess. | _Peeta wondered how he could have done such a mess out of the contents of his grocery bag._
Day 16: Christmas Caroling
Here comes another family. Please Katniss try to smile this time. | I am trying Peeta, it is hard to do it when they sound like Buttercup when we try to make him take a bath. | Good evening guys, we are here to spread so Christmas spirit. We really need it even after all these years. Care to hear a carol this lovely evening? | Of course. We will love to, don’t we Katniss. | _Katniss thought they were the worst so far, and it seemed she was not the only one thinking it, as not even Peeta could keep a smile to their rendition of The Twelve days of Christmas. But i_ _t_ _was Buttercup’s_ _who obviously hated it the most as he jumped the family and started hissing and attacking their feet until they left._ | Ok, I think we should better put this beast to rest and I won’t open the door to any more Carolers for the rest of the season.| Our ears will really appreciate that Peeta. | Come on kids, lets go to bed and lets convince your mama to sing some carols to us instead. Even after all these years, the birds still stop to listen.
Day 17: Angels in the snow
Come on dad! The snow is even whiter than the last time! | Yeah, and the last time your mother was really angry at us for soiling our dress clothes, I had to wash them twice! | Hmmm, maybe we can take mama to play with us this time? Maybe she won’t be mad if she is also with us? | _Katniss arrived to a very quite house. She had searched the whole house before looking outside for her husband and kids. What she found almost make her cry, of joy or frustration it was yet to be decided._ | Care to join us love? | What is this supposed to be? | We are a family of angels, but see we are missing one important member. | I will join you, but you are doing the laundry. | Well, as long as it come with the benefits from the last time. | _Katniss laughed and_ _started on_ _imprinting_ _her own angel in the snow._
Day 18: Reindeer
What are these Peeta? | Those are our new brand antlers Katniss. You put them in your head like this; I even have a Rudolf nose for the lucky one. | Why would we need them again? | Ohhh, so we can spread the Christmas spirit everywhere. | How so? | We are going caroling!! | _Outside_ _Haymitc_ _h's_ _porch the_ _Mellarks_ _were_ _wearing the reindeer antlers_ _and Peeta topped his act with the glowing nose._ _|_ _Haymitch_ _opened the door and_ _, before they could even say Good-evening,_ _he double in laughter_ _at the sight of the family in front of him_ _._ | Really sweetheart, and you were giving me a hard time on my geese eggnog adventure. | That's it, no more of this Peeta! | _Katniss said_ _while removing the antlers_. _She left to the second round of laughter from_ _Haymitch_ _._
Day 19: Stockings on the Chimney
Why there is a bunch of coal piled at the chimney Katniss? | Oh, that is for the stockings on the Chimney. | What are you saying Katniss? Are we giving our children coal this year? They have been good kids! I know there was that time Willow hide your bow and Rye cover the kitchen with flour, but those were just children being children. I think you are being a little bit harsh on them Katniss. | Peeta? Who said they were for the kids? | _Katniss grinned mischievously and left the room leaving a thunderstruck Peeta_ _behind_ _._
Day 20: Marshmallows
Peeta? | Yes Katniss? | Where are the marshmallows? I bought a bag last time I went to the Hob. | Do you remember there was a shortage of the ingredients used for the ginger bread last week? | Yes, but what does the marshmallows have anything to do with that? | Do you know that they are almost like candy bricks? | What are you trying to say Peeta? | That I used them to build a Christmas town? | You have just ruined hot coco for me Peeta...
Day 21: Hot coco and pie | c11c6fcf7235464eb4598bc6f759a2c7 | ['6871cff4b8e644659422140a0276d73a'] | "Why will it not be still on? I already told Prim and she is really excited about the whole thing, I think is the only reason she has not freaked out about this year's reaping. It is her third and she only has as many slips on the bowl but she won´t be really safe, not until her last reaping." Katniss was not oblivious to the word Peeta used to described what they were going to do later, and although she did not think she and Peeta were **dating** , she was actually thinking she did not find the idea unappealing, they had been **friends** for over a year now and lately she had been wondering if someday it could lead to more (she did not know herself what **more** entailed, but still). Have her not say the word as well the other day? True it was also to piss-off Gale, he was acting really weird, but still she did not say it just to be mean with whom she had become to think as her surrogate brother. She did not correct Peeta, but neither openly acknowledge they will be on a date by reminding him that Prim **was** also going to be there, as a chaperone of sorts if she was being honest. But she also ended up deflecting the conversation to the Reaping; and she wanted to kick herself for that one.
Peeta was surprised and pleased by the answer Katniss gave him. She did not seem to take on his faux-pass and she also opened the topic of the Reaping. He was really anxious to talk about it being their last one and all, but he knew it was not a good idea, so he decided to steer their conversation back to safe land and, as nonchalantly as possible, he started talking about frosting and cookies and which flavors would her sister and the Hawthorne little ones would like. He knew he did the right thing when he saw Katniss' smile.
_D_
She was running a little late. She had to admit that she would gladly go back to her house and spend a little more time with Prim instead of the woods. But she knew that she could not pass the opportunity to hunt some game before the Reaping ceremony, and it did not hurt that she would be able to talk to Gale.
Things were a little strange between them since their fight last Sunday, when he learned of her friendship with Peeta. It was not as she was keeping it a secret, her mother and sister knew about it and even he had shown up at their house to play some card games, do homework or even just visit from time to time this last year. She just wanted to keep that to herself, without having to deal with the opinion of others. Her mother and sister knew better than to say anything; but Gale distrusts merchants, and especially if their name were Peeta, so he would not be able to keep his thoughts to himself.
_She is late, have she forgotten about our tradition_. Gale was just about to go back to the Seam to look for her when he heard some rustling behind him; he smiled to himself but before he turned around to greet her, he turned his face into one of annoyance.
"Well, look just who decided to show?"
"Sorry Gale. I had to run an errand and it took me a little more time than expected". Katniss said while seating at her usual spot.
"Well, glad you even show up really. I was beginning to think you had forgotten about our Reaping Day tradition. I got the berries and I already made the tea with water from the spring". Gale said as he showed up the goods.
"You should be glad then that I brought some goat cheese and bread with me then". Katniss proceeded to place said items between them. She then ripped the bread in half and smeared each piece with some goat cheese and put the berries on top, she kept one for herself and gave the other one to Gale.
By now, Gale had a pretty good idea where this **errand** took place and why she was late; baker boy was ruining them and he was ending that today.
"I was thinking today we can go to the lake, I am in the mood of fish and we can also get some other game and forage for some greens along the way there. Mom wants… a nice dinner tonight." The word her mother used was **celebrate** but she knew better; with 28 slips the odds were not in her favor. Gale had beaten the odds with his 47 slips, but still, who says she will? As an afterthought she added "We will even have dessert this time."
_D_
They had finished early and were returning to town, today they won´t be trading, but kept the contents of their game bags for their families and today's dinner.
Gale had the Mockingjay pin inside his jeans' pocket, he actually had not parted from it since trading it with that stranger. He took it even to the mines, worried that his mother or siblings will find it and wanted to trade it for something more valuable, like food. He had toyed with the idea himself, but remembered that he had the money bag as well; and that was also for whatever he and Katniss needed for their future house and toasting cake.
Had he been paying a little more attention, he could have noticed that that particular week he had not been as tired as he always was after his shifts down the mine, he also had not asked his mother for a back rub every other night, and there were no new scars on his arms or hands that had constantly marred his body for the last two years. |
6992d067394f4bbd8fcce2eb15cffc4e | ['687cc9e5c33c4f1fa6119691c7945fd7'] | Adeline barely had time to be shocked as she twisted the helm of the ship frantically. "Man your battle stations!" She yelled. Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and Sadira came running out of the back and stopped dead. Adeline glared. "Well, don't just stand there like a bunch of stupid lumps! Haul butt!" Obi-Wan was turning green, but Ahsoka ran to the guns. The sixteen-year-old Jedi Knight was a very good shot, and she started taking pot shots at squadrons of small, one-man TIE Fighters. Obi-Wan ran for the 'fresher.
"Well, this plan just flew out the window!" Adeline yelled, barely missing being hit by a TIE Fighter, which Ahsoka shot.
Sadira looked up. "So that means that this can still be the Imperial Shuttle Bananaphone?" She asked hopefully.
"Bad time, Sadira!" Adeline yelled, twisting the controls.
Suddenly, there was a huge explosion, and half of one of the small Imperial shuttle's triangular fins tore off. The ship rocked, and Adeline saw that a TIE Fighter had hit the small ship. She banked the shuttle sharply, heading for the largest Stardestroyer, which just happened to be firing at everything with all its laser cannons.
"What are you doing?" Ahsoka yelled.
Adeline didn't look up. "I'm saving our lives!" Skillfully maneuvering the shuttle, she managed to latch the small shuttle to an air lock underneath the Stardestroyer, and ran for the small entry hatch. There was the noise of a lightsaber cutting through metal, and her call of "Come on! Now!"
Everyone scrambled through the hastily cut airlock, Adeline leading them. They emerged in a hallway, where a small mouse droid was humming a funny tune. It shrieked when it saw the party of Jedi, and tried to get away, but Adeline's purple lightsaber hummed right in front of it, and it squeaked in fright and surprise.
"You're coming with us," Adeline snarled. "If you try to get away, you'll meet the end of my lightsaber. Was that clear?"
The mouse droid whistled meekly.
"Good. I'm glad you understand. We'll get along just fine."
Sadira got a curious expression on her face. "Wait... do you have a nickname, little droid?"
The mouse droid whistled a reply and Adeline translated. "No, he says. But, Sadira, don't get any ideas about weird names..."
The teenage Angel giggled maniacally. "Too late!" She said in a singsong voice. "I'm gonna call you Boogie, little droid!"
If mouse droids could look panicked, Boogie would have. Ahsoka burst out laughing. "B-Boogie? How stupid is that?"
Sadira looked miffed. "Well, you don't have to like it. He's my droid, and we're going to go surfing. Right, Boogie?"
Boogie squeaked frantically, but Sadira Force-jumped nimbly on top of the little mouse droid. Having no other choice, Boogie rolled at top speed down the corridor, squeaking loudly and attempting to throw the teenager off, to no avail. Ahsoka looked at her companions and burst our laughing, Adeline and Obi-Wan following suit. They all walked after Sadira and Boogie down the long hall, heading for the bridge of the ship.
Darth Vader stood on the bridge of the Stardestroyer Avenger, deep in thought. He could sense a strange presence... one he hadn't felt in years. Obi-Wan Kenobi, his former Master. He wasn't exactly sure whether the Force was playing tricks on him or not, however. His old Master had been thorough when he had disappeared; as no one had seen him in almost three years. How could Obi-Wan Kenobi be on an Imperial Stardestroyer? That was not like the Jedi Master.
A high-ranking official came onto the bridge. "Lord Vader, General Tarkin has several matters to discuss with you, about security. There is every possibility that the Rebels will try to board the Avenger."
Darth Vader made a noise that could only be described as a loud, bored sigh. "Commander Piett, I can assure you, the Avenger has enough security measures to prevent that!"
Piett looked worried. No one could make Darth Vader do something he didn't want to do. "Lord Vader, there is one more thing to report. A small, Lambda-class Imperial shuttle, not unlike the Emperor's, entered the Endor system during the early stages of the battle. It disappeared soon after. We have found no trace of it, and there is no possible entry to hyperspace among the debris."
Vader looked thoughtful. "Send in Tarkin." He commanded.
...
Adeline walked next to Ahsoka, lightsaber in hand, unusually silent. Obi-Wan walked on the Togruta's other side, also unusually quiet. They were driving Ahsoka nuts. Why couldn't they just kiss and make up? Sadira was still riding on Boogie, who looked tired, and the teenage Angel was still chattering away to her droid, making up for the long silences between the older members of the mission. "...and I'll paint you pink, and glue purple Wonky bird feathers on top, and..." Boogie looked as downhearted as a mouse droid could get.
Suddenly, the lifts, which were not too far ahead (and there were five of them in a row, too) all beeped, signaling parties of stormtroopers ahead. Adeline reacted instantly. She knocked Sadira into an empty storage compartment, scooping Boogie into her arms. "If we get out of this alive, without Imperial traitors, I will never let her do that to you!" The older Angel hissed. She threw Boogie into the room after Sadira, her (now green) lightsaber igniting with a snap-hiss.
Dozens of stormtroopers poured out of the lifts. Adeline swore loudly. "E Chu Ta! It's a trap!"
Ahsoka drew her lightsaber. "If we're going down, we're doing it together!"
Obi-Wan looked hassled. "I have a plan! Adeline, you must get to the control room, and disable the laser cannons! Ahsoka and I will protect Sadira, and create a diversion!"
Adeline tried to argue, but Ahsoka cut the Angel off. "Aunt Adeline, it's a good idea! Anyway, you're the most qualified of us all for the job! Go, before it's too late! May the Force be with you!" | 39a863fc82df49d7b56bf56ae886e8a5 | ['687cc9e5c33c4f1fa6119691c7945fd7'] | Sadira began to giggle. "Well, I can understand about the whole 'Names Thing', but I have an idea." The teenage Angel pulled a bag of something out of her back pocket. Everybody's eyes popped. Obi-Wan began to drool. The bag was full of chocolate chips.
"I still don't like being Pookie!" Ahsoka complained, her mouth full of chocolate. "That was an evil bribe, Sadira."
The teenage Angel laughed from within her suit. "Well, it was the only way," She said, snickering. They were walking to find Ahsoka's contact in Mos Eisley with the shuttle, and they were all wearing the armor, whether they liked it or not.
"Gee, Sadira, it sure gets hot in here," Obi-Wan panted.
Adeline was moaning. "I have an itch and I can't reach it!"
Obi-Wan put his arm around her. "Addie, I'll scratch your back for you," He suggested.
Adeline glared at him through the helmet. "My back doesn't itch," She replied. He shut up.
Sadira just rolled her eyes, "So, where's this guy with the shuttle? Where would he be?"
Ahsoka sighed softly, "I would guess either the spaceport or the cantina. Those are the only places smugglers tend to go."
"Except you."
"I'm the exception to a lot of things, Sadira."
Sadira grinned, "So, where do we go first?"
"Cantina," Everyone else answered at the same time.
"There was no question about it." Adeline added.
"None, always look at a cantina for a smuggler." Obi-Wan continued.
"It was a pretty stupid question. All guys would go for the bar." Ahsoka pointed out.
They headed for the cantina, stormtrooper armor and all. Ahsoka was still grumbling about Pookie, but she was quiet as they entered the small room, where bouncy music was playing. There was no doubt that Adeline's nose went up in the air when they walked in. The Nubian Angel considered herself to be a notch above noisy, drunk smugglers. Ahsoka headed for the 'fresher in back, and the rest of them sat down, waiting for her to carry out her plan.
When the Togruta came back, she was wearing a black cloak that covered her head-tails, montrals, and just about everything else. She looked around, her eyes finally settling on a table where a young man sat, sipping some sort of drink and talking to a Jawa. Ahsoka made a motion with her hand that said, 'Follow my lead,' and walked over to the table. She murmured something to the Jawa, who ran off, and sat down.
"I' m looking to buy that Lambda-class shuttle?" She asked him.
He nodded. "15,000 credits."
She sighed. "I won't buy it for anything over 7,000."
He looked bored. "Ma'am, I won't sell it for anything under 14,000."
Ahsoka twisted a ring on her finger. "I'll go for 8," She said.
He shook his head. That's when the Togruta beckoned Adeline, Obi-Wan, and Sadira over. "You see," She said, "I have friends who want that shuttle, and if you don't give it to me for 9,000-"
He was beginning to sweat. "I'll take the price down to 12,000."
She shook her head. "Not good enough. How about-"
She was cut off again. "10,000! And that's my final offer!" He yelled, face pale and sweat dripping down his cheeks. Ahsoka nearly laughed. She hadn't made someone this nervous in a LONG time!
Ahsoka smiled. "Done. I'll take it." She shook on her deal.
"Docking Bay 327. It's there. I'll wait for my payment."
Ahsoka nodded. "Thank you for your help," She said, waving her hand slightly. He repeated her words, and they walked out of the cantina.
"See, I told you that wasn't so hard!" Ahsoka said, over the choking noises of laughter the others were making from inside their suits.
"Ahsoka, he nearly had a heart attack! Yeah, it wasn't hard. More like FUN!" Adeline said, between gales of laughter.
Obi-Wan sighed, thinking to himself, "I will never understand them. Never."
"I thought we had been over shielding thoughts." Adeline said from ahead.
"Give me a break!" Obi-Wan muttered.
Ahsoka just laughed harder. Sadira grinned, "Yeah, well, Sister, for all those talks you've had with Obi-Wan, one would think you would be able to hide your thoughts from me a little better."
Addie glared, "Sadira, you're my sister. It's different."
"It won't be different for long." Sadira muttered under her breath.
"I'm going to murder you." Addie threatened.
"You can't murder me." Sadira grinned, "I'm the one who got you the stormtrooper outfits."
"And ridiculous nicknames." Adeline reminded her.
"Pookie," Ahsoka muttered darkly.
Obi-Wan shrugged, "Well, while I agree the names are ridiculous, I have to point out her own is Wacko."
Adeline giggled at that, "True,"
Ahsoka sighed. "Well, this is fun, and all, but I think we should try and rescue the Rebel Alliance, don't you think?" She walked over to the shuttle (which was sitting right next to them) and knocked. There was a brief exchange of credits, and then Ahsoka turned to her friends and smiled. "It's all ours!" She said happily, boarding it as the smuggler she had bought it from walked away. Adeline looked at Obi-Wan, shrugged, and climbed aboard, as did Sadira, still laughing about the nicknames.
"No, this shuttle is NOT being named Bozo-Brain! Sadira, where do you come up with those things?" Adeline asked. She had just set the coordinates for Endor, and now they were discussing names for the small Lambda-class shuttle. Obi-Wan had suggested Pride of the Empire, but Ahsoka had argued that it was too long a name; they needed something better.
"How about... Tweedle-Dum?" Sadira suggested.
Adeline glared. "You already know my answer on that one, Sadira."
"Yes?" The teenage Angel asked hopefully.
"NO."
"Darn!"
Ahsoka was tinkering with the control board, but she looked up at their argument. "How about Bluestar? She suggested.
Adeline looked at Obi-Wan. "Not bad!" They said in unison. |
9b2de32264f94fec93b743bc2222bac1 | ['68866d0d96cc4975b44806b697fb791e'] |
Day of Reckoning
Aziraphale loved this time of year, the way the streets were adorned with people in scarves and grey peacoats, the ever so slight chill in the air felt brilliant against his skin and the heightened excitement in Crowley’s voice as All Hallow’s Eve decorations lit up the the night.
He stood by the window, sipping his hot chocolate, watching the everyday sights that, despite monotonous ritual of routine, brought him great joy considering how close he came to losing them forever.
He was snapped out of that routine quickly, as he picked up the presence of an approaching etherial being. This being was surrounded by an aura of malice, and for a moment, Aziraphale could not distinguish whether the being was from heaven or from hell.
“Hello Aziraphale.” A familiar voice rang in his ears.
“Gabriel,” he stiffened and a tightness filled his throat. From his corner of his eye, he could seeSandalphon and Uriel as they surrounded him.
“Uriel, Sandalphon. It has been quite sometime.” Aziraphale swallowed hard.“Such a most unexpected visit.”
“Is it though?” Michael’s voice resonated from behind him, sending a chill down his spine.
“I told you that this day would come.” Gabriel’s violet eyes squinted as he looked angrily at the angel. “Or maybe it was Crowley that I was talking to, hard keeping the two of you straight these days. You see, it took us a little while to figure out how you both managed to survive, and I must say, that was a very clever...what’s that word?” Gabriel snapped his fingers as he was trying to recall.
“Ruse.” Said Uriel plainly.
Gabriel clapped his hands together in sarcastic delight. “Yes! Ruse! Fantastic job fooling us, but it seems your time is up.”
“Oh?” He asked painfully aware that a certain demon was rapidly approaching the bookshop.
“Expecting someone, Aziraphale?” Michael, sensing the nearby demon, asked.
“You never know who might stop in for a book.” He answered as he tapped on a well worn copy of The King James Bible sitting on his desk, trying to remain calm.
Please don’t come in here, please stay away . He prayed to himself, to no avail. Latches unhinged and the door flung open, the tinkling of the bell announced the arrival of a tall, slender figure, followed by the sound of a low, menacing hiss.
“Ssstrange smell in the old bookshop, seems someone didn’t get the message to stay the hell away.” Crowley’s voice growled.
“Crowley,” his voice trembled. “Run!”
“That is not a possibility, angel.” Crowley hissed. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Oh good, your boyfriend’s arrived.” Uriel smirked at Aziraphale’s concern.
“Boyfriend?” Crowley, who was just aghast, recoiled as he sauntered through the door. “I take it you didn’t get the invite we sent you then. Lovely, intimate affair with oodles of red lilies and white roses, we even had a crepe station! Sorry you missed it.”
Sandalphon rolled his eyes and Uriel’s lip curled.
“This is just perfect!” Gabriel nearly giddy with glee. “Excellent timing, as I have some friends coming, and I just know you’re going to want to see them.”
As if on cue, four distressed figures emerge from beneath the ground, cropping up inside the bookshop like withered flowers. The scent of death and decay lingered in the air.
“Ah! Glad you could make it! Aziraphale, Crowley, Demons of Hell, Archangels, looks like the gang is all here! Couldn’t have a party without these guys. But where are my manners? Let me introduce everyone. Beelzebub, Prince of Hell, Hastur, Dagon and....uh...I’m sorry, but I’ve forgotten your name.” Gabriel looks at the demon with 2 large cones of hair atop his head, the demon just shrugs. “I’m going to call you Francis. You see, my new friends and Francis have all come here just for you two. Do you mind standing between them, wouldn’t want them pulling another ruse.” He signaled to the demons and they circled around Crowley, blocking his path to Aziraphale.
The demon now known as Francis threw a punch a Crowley, hitting him squarely in the jaw. Crowley tasted blood in his mouth, and went to spit on the floor, but thought better when he caught Aziraphale’s eye. He instead swallowed, threw his head back and laughed. “Took you long enough to figure it out. Honestly, I’m surprised. I didn’t think you had enough brain cells between the 1,2,3,4,5-6-7 let’s see 8 of you to come to any intelligent conclusion.”
“Ha! Ha, ha, ha,” Gabriel forced a clearly fake laugh. “Admittedly, it did take an embarrassingly long time to realize that you two switched bodies, but we’re quick learners.”
“We were disgusted when we figured it out. I mean, who knows what other vile, hedonistic acts you two have been performing.” Sandalphon sneered as he shook his head.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Crowley smirked, wiping blood from his mouth onto the cuff of his brocade jacket.
“As tempting as that might be, I’m afraid we simply don’t have time for all the gross details. We have a schedule to keep, and I, personally, can’t wait to get started!” Gabriel raised him closed fists with enthusiasm.
“We have big plans for you both.” Hastur grinned, the frog on his head flicked its tongue.
“I was just getting to that, Hastur. I told you, I’d let you know when it’s your turn to talk.” Gabriel glared. “So, where was I?”
“You really love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?” Crowley yawned exaggeratedly with boredom.
“Especially when I’m talking about the compete and utter destruction of the two beings I hate the most. Then I suppose I’m guilty.” Gabriel said as he clasped his hands together.
“You were just about to tell them what we’re going to do to them.” Beelzebub, clearly put out to be back on earth, groaned as flies crawled from the oozing wounds on his face. | b2784a8f5b394ef38076a51efe70b3c5 | ['68866d0d96cc4975b44806b697fb791e'] | “Right! You two have caused more than a few problems, and well, after that stunt you pulled with stopping the Great War, there have to be consequences. You should have taken the quick way out, and chosen immediate annihilation. Now, well, I’m afraid we’re a bit past that.” Gabriel smiled as he circled the pair. “Hastur, would you care to tell the happy couple what they’ve won?”
The demon grinned, his decaying teeth flashed. “You’re going to suffer. For starters, we’re going to rip your wings off. Tear them slowly, bit by agonizing bit, starting at the ends and working our way up. I can’t imagine it will be a quick process either, I imagine it will take a while to wrench them from your bodies, but I know I’m up for the task.”
Aziraphale glanced at the angels to either side of him, studying their expressions to see if there was even the remote possibility of finding an ally, yet both Sandalphon and Uriel seemed thrilled with the description of torture.
“So, you want to go all night with us then Hastur? Better set the mood then.” Crowley taunted as he snapped his fingers, lighting the many candles scattered throughout the bookshop. “Didn’t know you felt that way. Not sure you could keep up.”
Hastur growled in anger. “Joke while you still can, but you won’t be laughing when we’re showing off your mangled wings. I’m keeping yours. I have a special place for them in my office. Maybe Dagon can have a piece, depending on what’s left of them. Gabriel, you had dibs on old White Wings, right?”
To this, Gabriel raised his eyebrows as he nodded and flashed a cruel smile to Aziraphale.
“The party really begins after. We decided it would be fun to parade you both through Heaven and Hell, battered, bruised and bloody.” Hastur continued, beaming with delight. “The final stop on this tour ends with a bang. All of Hell will be in attendance as we kill the angel. What demon doesn’t want to see the enemy writhe in agony? What do you think his odd are for surviving Hellfire again?” Hastur asked aloud.
“Not very good.” Sandalphon quipped with a twisted smile.
“But don’t think we’ve forgotten about you, Crowely! You get a front row seat to all the action!” Hastur continued his taunting.
Aziraphale could feel the air around Crowley change as the demon clenched his fists and tightened his jaw.
“Crowley,” he whispered. “It will be alright.”
“Oh, I don’t think he likes our plan.” The one now named Francis chided.
“That’s what makes it fun.” Hastur laughed bitterly. “How long do you think it will take for this fat cherub to burn away completely? Not nearly long enough to satisfy me.”
“Come now, Hastur!” Gabriel pretended to take offense. “You’re forgetting what comes next!”
“I haven’t gotten to that part yet.” Hastur grinned once more. “Then you get to watch it over and over and over again from now until eternity. You see, we’re not going to kill you Crowley, we’re going to keep you alive just so you can experience the exquisite hell of watching your precious little angel die again and again.”
“What’s wrong, Crowley?” Dagon teased. “No witty remarks? No snappy retort?”
“You’re going to wish you hadn’t said that. You’re going to wish you hadn’t stepped foot on Earth.” Crowley growled, his voice changing to a low hiss that rumbled through the room. “You have one last chance to walk away, to leave and never come back.”
“What are you going to do?” Uriel asked. “Fight all of us?” The collective swarm laughed at that prospect.
“Not me, I’m a lover, not a fighter.” Crowley snickered. “But he might.” He gestured towards Aziraphale, who was already surrounded by a radiant light, growing brighter and hotter, filling the room with a powerful energy that was driven by a fierce love.
Aziraphale listened as Hastur described the horrific manner in which his existence would end. As terrible as it sounded, he could endure it, that he knew beyond a doubt. But the cruel torment designed for Crowley, that was unimaginable. Crowley, the demon who saved children from the great flood. Crowley, who’s idea of damning souls to hell was to cut off their cell phone service for several hours. Crowley, who on occasion, still cried tears of joy when they made love. Crowley, who’s only mistake ever was asking questions, did not deserve the to suffer the wrath of heaven and hell.
Aziraphale closed his eyes, allowing his memories to take take him back all the way to the beginning of the earth, those many millennia ago. To when The Almighty first tasked him to guard the Eastern Gate of Eden. “Aziraphale, there will come a time, and there will be only one such occasion, where you will have to fight. You will be needed to defend that which I have created, that which you love, from a fate worse than death.”
“But, you see, I don’t actually want to fight.” Aziraphale said timidly.
“That is why I chose you to be the guardian; because you are not seeking vengeance or glory, it is because, within you, there is a mighty capacity for forgiveness and understanding. But a day shall come when youcannot forgive and cannot understand. When that day comes, you will know. When that day comes, you will be ready, Aziraphale.” |
cdb29a6f83a14a02a2e297aac74115e3 | ['688e5a2dce174f9dac53bf250d57a575'] | Aaaand then Steve’s eyes fall to his unfairly perfect torso and he remembers. Everything. In painful detail. He only just catches himself to stop staring when Bucky glances back over to him, and that’s when Steve realizes that Bucky’s been in his swim shorts the entire time. Bucky grabs their towels and tosses one Steve’s way, as the blond follows him out to the backyard, once again very much regretting this decision. He’s already half-hard again, and if he pops a boner before he can disguise it in the pool, he’s going to be so fucking busted.
Bucky’s always been a bit of a show-off. He tosses his towel onto one of the lounging chairs and then breaks into a run; gaining momentum so he can throw himself head-first into the air and do a front flip into the deep end of the in-ground pool. He makes an impressive splash before his head rips from the water’s surface and he’s using his hands to swipe his hair back and off of his face. Steve almost groans – Bucky shouldn’t be allowed to do that. He also shouldn’t be allowed to have his hair wet and slicked back like that. Or be looking up at Steve with that expectant, boyish grin like that either.
“C’mon, ya pussy – get in!” he hollers.
Steve realizes as he puts his towel down that he completely forgot to change his glasses to his contacts while at home. And he sure as hell can’t swim with them on; not unless he wants them getting all wet and annoyingly fogged up. Then he’ll be rubbing at them all night. The alternative is that, unfortunately, he’ll have to be partially blind. Sighing to himself, he opts for blindness as he pulls them off and then heads towards the pool, squinting to make sure he doesn’t miscalculate his footing and go plummeting in unexpectedly.
Bucky notices and immediately gets out of the pool to come help him find his way to the built-in staircase leading into the shallow end. Steve feels like an idiot for needing help like this, but it wouldn’t be the first time. It’s also a welcome distraction, so his body doesn’t go embarrassing him by getting any unwanted erections. Luckily, that also means he won’t need to see Bucky’s body in all that perfect detail while they swim – so okay, this is good, he can get through this.
Bucky’s always also been a total shithead. The water’s colder than Steve expected, and he’s a bit of a wuss when it comes to adjusting to it – he’s always been a test the water with your toes and then ease your way in kind of guy, whereas Bucky’s the cannonball straight into the deep end and get the worst part over with sort of person. So it takes him a few minutes just to let the water get up to his hips. Bucky, having been watching impatiently, eventually comes splashing up behind him and tosses Steve over his shoulder. Steve shouts and curses him, pounding at the brunet’s back with his fists, until he starts yelling, “Put me down! Bucky! Fuckin’ stop it – I said, put me down!”
“Alright, if you insist!” Bucky replies gleefully – and then chucks Steve into the water.
Steve emerges and shouts, “Fuck you!” because fuck, this shit is cold – and he can hear Bucky’s laughter, but now he’s also got water in his eyes and his bangs matted over them, too, so he has no idea where to look. Kicking his legs to remain afloat, he pushes his own hair back and then huffs, looking around for Bucky, but it hadn’t really helped his sight all that much. He really should’ve remembered the damn contacts. And Bucky’s laughter has stopped and he isn’t making a sound anymore, so Steve can’t find him at all.
“Buck?” he says. Nothing. Steve circles his arms and kicks his legs and spins in a small circle, on guard. “Buck, don’t be a dick; where are you?”
Somewhere off to his left, he suddenly hears Bucky sing, “Duh-na…”
Then silence. A tiny sound of water splashing but then suddenly Bucky’s voice is off to the right as he sings again, “Duh-na…”
“Bucky, don’t even fuckin’ think about it,” Steve warns.
Now the voice comes from somewhere off behind him; Bucky must be doing all of his swimming underwater so Steve can’t hear the movements. “Duh-na, duh-na, duh-na,” he keeps singing mischievously, doing his best impression of the theme song from Jaws.
“Buck--”
There’s a splash, and Steve spins around quickly in its direction. His pulse is quickening with that adrenaline you feel when you watch a scary movie and know the killer’s about to jump out – and he both hates and loves when Bucky does crap like this to him. He can mostly just see blobs and fuzzy shapes of different colours, but none that resemble Bucky’s hair. Everything’s silent. Steve opens his mouth again—
“DA NA NAAAAA!” Bucky suddenly shouts a split-second after Steve feels a splash and realizes Bucky’s swum up literally right behind him. In an instant, Bucky’s throwing his arms around him and tackling him into the water. Steve yelps with surprise but is able to take a breath before his head is submerged. When they come up for air, he hears Bucky start cackling maniacally, so he decides he might as well put up a fight and try and break out of his grip.
They’ve wrestled like this a million times before… But somehow, in the commotion, Steve overshoots his lung capacity and exerts himself way too much – going from horsing around to suddenly panicking, as he struggles to breathe and suddenly feels like he can’t keep his head above the surface. He can hear Bucky’s voice, but his own gasping is too loud to be able to make out the specifics of what he’s saying. | d50c1e8fd37e40e4a30f69a9b0c46d7c | ['688e5a2dce174f9dac53bf250d57a575'] | All Steve knows is that one second, he’s thrashing, and the next, Bucky’s voice is really close and he’s grabbing Steve and pulling him to his own body. He gets Steve’s legs around his waist and guides him to throw his arms around Bucky’s neck – and suddenly Steve finds himself in Bucky’s arms, with their faces inches apart, and the feeling of Bucky’s arms tightly around his back and their hips pressed together.
The only reason his dick doesn’t immediately get hard is due to the panic still in his system, as well as the fact that with how tired he’s made himself and how chilly the water is, his pathetically frail body probably couldn’t actually get the proper blood flow for that right now. But that doesn’t make the closeness any less terrifying at the moment.
He immediately stops fighting and stills. This close, and Steve can see Bucky’s face much more clearly. Bucky’s staring at him with a startling amount of worry in his eyes, and oh god, fuck, they’re so close that their noses are practically touching. They have never been this close in this way before, and Steve has no idea what he’s supposed to do or where this is supposed to head.
Bucky swallows – did his eyes just flicker down to Steve’s mouth or did Steve just have a temporary stroke or something? – and then he asks, “Are you okay…?”
Steve just keeps staring at his eyes, his own baby blues slightly widened, and gives a tiny nod. “Yeah…” he replies quietly. The confusion is so painfully evident in his voice. “I… Sorry about that…”
“No, uh…” Bucky clears his throat. He hasn’t looked away from Steve’s eyes. “That was all on me. I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.”
He also hasn’t let go of Steve, either.
For a split second, Steve wonders if they’re about to kiss. This is usually what happens in movies right before people kiss for the first time. And then he realizes how stupid of a hope that is for him to have, and he feels like he’s about to cry. He definitely doesn’t want Bucky to see that, so he breaks the eye contacts and looks over to his towel, muttering, “I think I wanna get out now, if that’s okay.”
“Oh… Yeah, yeah of course, buddy. Hang on.”
Bucky wades through the pool, across the shallow end until Steve can find his own footing. Bucky makes sure to keep one hand gripping his arm and one splayed flush in the middle of Steve’s bony back as he walks him up the stairs and around the edge of the pool to grab their towels and Steve shoves his glasses back on. For the most part, they stay silent as they head back into the house. In the bathroom, Steve changes back into his pants and puts on a dry shirt he’d brought with him, and even with perfect vision again, Steve chooses not to look at himself.
When he heads back into the living room, Bucky’s got the TV on and is in the middle of texting. He smiles over at Steve like nothing happened, but he does ask, “Feelin’ any better?”
“Yeah,” Steve lies, throwing on a smile. He flops down on the couch, but subtly tries to put some space between them – even though all he wants to do is get as close as possible and breathe in Bucky’s scent, of shampoo and cigarettes and lingering Axe body spray and chlorine. They’re quiet for a few minutes and just stare at what’s on TV.
“You wanna order pizza or somethin’?” Bucky eventually asks.
Steve can’t help but be thankful and relieved that Bucky was the braver of the two of them to re-initiate the conversation. He exhales, losing some of the tension that’d been in his body, and answers, “Sounds great, I’m starving.” |
28d62bcd5cd243268ae149c887ae86b3 | ['68ad706a609a4d5babd3a7eb002aea33'] |
Ridgebacks, Car Parks, and Worry Warts
“Remind me why hiding in a car park is a good idea.” Noctis hissed as he and Prompto did their best to hide from the rather large fiend that was blocking their escape route.
“Dunno. ‘s your idea.” Prompto whispered back as he reloaded his gun. The blond got the feeling he’d need it soon.
“It was not.” Noctis grumbled, squishing himself into the corner. “Gods, this is bad.”
“Well, y’walked us right into it Noct. Was following your lead, remember?” Prompto snorted, looking away from the prince to see if the fiend was coming this way. He hadn’t seen the fiend in a little while, but could hear a loud thump of sorts. He couldn’t tell if it was the fiend or someone slamming a door, though. After all, they were in a car park. “Speaking of, how’s that lead now?”
Though he couldn’t see it, Prompto was sure that the prince was leering at him. “I would smack you right now if I didn’t not want to draw that thing’s attention to us.”
“Hey, you’re the smart one here. If anyone can pull a plan out of their ass, it’s you.” Prompto shot back with a grin.
Noctis made a face. “I don’t even know why I’m friends with you.” Prompto had to bite back a chuckle. “Ignis is going to kill us when we get back.”
“Scold’s more like it. Cor’s gonna be the one to kill us.” Prompto sighed. And Prompto was going to make sure they got back. It was a strong, protective feeling deep in his gut. It was all he could think about. The feeling was a little surreal to him since he usually didn’t protect Noctis alone (usually it was Ignis and Gladio that did the real ‘protecting’ bit). He wondered if this was how the other two felt when they all went into battle together.
“Gods, what are we even going to tell them?” The prince leaned his head back against the concrete wall.
The blond shrugged. “Dunno. We’ll think of somethin’, right?” Noctis was about to open his mouth to respond when there were more thumping of the loud variety. It was too loud and too fast to be car doors. The boys looked at each other.
“Shit.” No sound came from that particular uttering, but Prompto knew the prince well enough to have caught it.
Prompto wasn’t used to being the one who came up with the plan but didn’t see one coming out of Noctis any time soon. He wasn’t used to seeing the prince scared out of his wits. If this had been any other situation Prompto would’ve felt a little put off (Prompto did toot his own horn in regards to his sharpshooting, and there was reason for it), but he understood right then. They didn’t have Gladio’s strength or Ignis’ magic. They were also up against an enemy that usually would require all four of them for a quick (and safe) takedown.
But they had been up against this kind of fiend before. They’d been up against it enough that the four of them had gotten killing this type down to a science. Its weak spot was right between its shoulders. Even if Ignis and Gladio weren’t there they still had at least a little advantage.“It’s one of the Ridgebacks, right?”
Noctis blinked. “Uh, yeah, I think so.” The prince’s eyes went wide. “You don’t think-”
“I’ll distract it while you work your magic.” Prompto said with a wink and a smirk. Noctis didn’t look impressed. The blond rolled his eyes. “C’mon. There aren’t any other fiends here. Just that one bastard. You don’t need me to cover you. Since when’ve you been worryin’ so much?”
Noctis looked away fast, rubbing at the back of his head. “I know.”
Something was wrong and the blond knew it. He’d have all the time in the world to pry when they got out of this, though. Prompto squeezed his friend’s shoulder. “We okay to do this? Or does that pretty head of yours have a better plan?”
“No. We can do it.” Noctis said. “Just be-”
“Don't. Y’sound like Ignis. Stop it. I’m supposed to be your bad influence.” Prompto added a flourish of mock-hurt at the last sentence.
Noctis snorted, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “Are we going to do this or what?”
Prompto nodded, venturing out from their hiding spot. It was good timing since the Ridgeback, a huge lizardlike fiend, had just rounded the corner. It sat at the other end, though. Prompto was going to need to get it closer if Noctis was going to jump on it. “Hey, you big bastard!” Prompto called out, waving his free hand around. “You just gonna sit there or what?”
The Ridgeback didn’t need much more provocation than that. It stared at the blond with its massive red eyes for two seconds before it started to charge. Prompto made a dash away from the hiding spot, trying to keep enough distance between himself and the creature so he could aim properly. He shot at the Ridgeback’s feet in an attempt to slow it down enough for Noctis to get on its back. It was working, but in the process it got too close. It lifted one large foot and swiped at the blond, knocking him to the ground hard enough that he saw stars. | ee6507f61e754f18be6b5a83e9a40d63 | ['68ad706a609a4d5babd3a7eb002aea33'] | Prompto was on his feet again almost instantaneously, just in time to see Noctis get up on the fiend’s back and run a greatsword between its shoulder blades. The fiend let out a garbled roar before finally collapsing. The blond let out a sigh of relief. It’s not like he doubted that he and Noctis could do it, but it was still a relief it had turned out alright. The blond grinned and held up his hand for a high five when Noctis came over, but instead of their usual post-victory routine he got “Are you okay?” paired with a paranoid expression.
Prompto was confused and it showed quite visibly on his face. “Yeah, you?”
“I’m fine, but you took a pretty hard fall. Are you-” Noctis touched Prompto’s arm and the blond cringed and took a step back. “You’re not.”
“It’s just a scratch, it’s fine.” Prompto waved it off, rolling his eyes. “Sheesh, who are you and what’ve y’done with Noctis?”
When his arm felt magically better he knew Noctis cast a healing spell. “Things have gotten harder lately. I know you’ve got my back. I’ve just… Got to pay more attention. I’ve got your hide to worry about as well as my own.”
Prompto rolled his eyes, hooking one arm around the prince’s shoulders. “Gods, did Stella really turn you into THAT much of a worry wart? Soon enough you’ll be sayin’ you’re thinkin’ about settling down and having two point five kids.”
“Prompto, I swear to the Gods…”
“Love you too, sweetie.”
Noctis shoved his way out from under Prompto’s arm and shoved his own hands in his pockets. Prompto could swear he heard a badly restrained laugh. “Gods, you are so annoying.”
The blond caught up to the prince, falling into stride next to him. His grin was a wide one. “But you love that about me. Don’t deny it.”
“Yeah, sure.” It was a little late, but they high fived. Nothing more to worry about than Cor’s reaction when they got home. The battle was over and they won. |
478c7b30e615459195635feb2f9d763b | ['68c24f9718cc47d3aaadec69eab778b7'] | Hot Sexy Ezreal Smut Time
ezreal was lost. “who needs a map?” he mumbled to himself while crying. god damnit, he needed a map but he had a reputation to uphold.
why was this house so big? he was invited here by a mysterious antiquities seller but when he arrived, there was no auction like he had imagined - most of the time, he ended up at small, backdoor auctions selling rare, dangerous runeterran goods. he had to make sure these things didn’t fall into dirty noxian hands - he knew where to take them and how to keep them safe.
he heard a tinkling sound coming from down this endlessly long hallway. it was a type of music he was rather unfamiliar with as he couldn’t place the instrument.
a door was open near the end of the hallway and soft light spilled onto the dark carpeting. perhaps it was ambience music before the auction. with a sigh of relief, ezreal made his way to the door and let himself in.
to his surprise, it was not a seating room but a bedroom. a cozy bedroom. and there was a beautiful woman laying upon the plush bed in the centre.
“no problem!” he said aloud as he was suddenly filled with inspiration in his loins. the woman beckoned to him, her long yellow and blue hair framed around her waiting, partially clothed body. ezreal knew now that the mysterious note was just a ruse to lure him into the depths of this lustful bedroom, but he was no doubt about to experience one of the rarest gems in all runeterra.
“no time to waste!” he stripped off his clothing, his magical meat rod rising to the occasion. the busty woman smiled and a tinkling laughter seemed to fill the room.
[adult noises and references to a trueshot barrage]
ezreal flopped onto the bed. this had turned out to be an unexpected adventure and he could feel comfort settling on his warm skin. he had followed the map of his heart and it had led him into a land of bounty and grace.
he started crying again.
**Author's Note:**
> i wrote this for a friend randomly one night because i was just cackling to myself at how funny it was in my head. turned out good. hahah | f7895044e111448582c551058165b289 | ['68c24f9718cc47d3aaadec69eab778b7'] |
Guts
The humid bay with its intermingling scents of sea, sweaty bodies and cigar smoke was the first thing to greet her. Captain Fortune was home again after a long stint on the mainland. As deep as her wanderlust may be, nothing beat the feeling of stepping onto the docks and looking at the smoky, bustling city in front of her. The creak of the buildings in the sea breeze, the cries of the gulls floating above, the rowdy calls of groups stumbling from pub to pub - all of these welcomed her each time she returned. Her favourite dive would be busier tonight than other nights, but she knew how to unwind even in the midst of various offkey karaoke attempts and occasional scuffle or two. Maybe she would even be able to sweet talk her way into a corner card game since she had some extra gold to throw around.
~
Holding a surprisingly clean mug of ale above her head, Fortune squeezes and jabs her way through the pressing crowd towards the back of the bar. The tables were smaller and the lighting was abysmal but most times you never really needed to see your opponent's face unless you were planning to land a punch on them for cheating you out of your money.
_If_ you were sober enough to notice in the first place.
After carefully hanging her feathered hat on a nearby hook, she slides into the closest unoccupied seat in a table for four, leaning back to sip her drink while the dealer begins shuffling a worn deck in preparation.
"Standard?" A deep, accented voice inquires from underneath a wide brimmed hat.
"Guts."
The hat lifts and an attractive smile is all that appears before a flurry of cards slide across to each of the three players. Fortune takes another leisurely pull of her cool ale and checks out her opponents.
One is a dark eyed woman with a crisp bandana covering the top of her hair; dark, short and contrasted by a bright red streak near the front. Her wrinkled face is set in a focused expression and across one cheek are a line of deep scars that almost look like gills.
Definitely not one to underestimate.
The other player is a younger boy, his hopeful eyes under a head of shaggy hair. He flips a large silver coin through his fingers while the dealer finishes sorting the hands. He catches Fortune's stare and smiles, revealing a few shiny, silver teeth and many gaps in between. Pleasant demeanor, not too full of himself yet. Easy to read, easy to play around. He flips the coin onto the table, giving the bounty hunter a wink before leaning towards the dealer.
"One silver start."
~
Poor boy, Fortune thinks to herself as he raises two fingers and tosses his cards down. After a five round losing streak, she couldn't blame him for wanting to keep a few coins in his pocket at the end of the night.
Only the two women were still in. She could feel a quietly growing tension between them as they lay their current hands down, hers the better one this time.
Bandana woman's dark eyes lifted in challenge as a pouch of gold coins fell onto the table.
Fortune pushes her empty mug towards the silver toothed boy, nodding her head towards the bar as she meets the ante, tossing her own small bag down.
"Twelve hundred current."
The cards swish across the table.
~
She doesn't break her gaze as she lifts two fingers and sharply pushes her losing hand away. Thirty-six hundred in total that will not be going home with her tonight.
She extends her hand.
"Well played, Captain."
~
She knows better than to walk back to her ship with a bag full of clinking coins, so after speaking with the bartender, she locks her winnings in the backroom's safe till morning. She was no dragon; she had no need of a bunch of gold in the middle of the night when all that was left for her to do was sleep.
The image of herself as a dragon gave her a sudden fit of giggles, and she chuckles the rest of the way to the docks, picturing herself trying to fit through her cabin doorway in dragon-form but only able to stick her head in.
Laughter tears still in her eyes as she opens the door to her room means she misses the shadow seated at her writing desk.
Leaning on the door frame, she wipes her eyes and lets the faint moonlight stream in, squinting into the open, dark space.
"Care to share whatever it is that's made ya cackle all the way up the docks?" The chair scrapes against the floorboards as the shadow rises from it.
The unexpected voice catches Fortune off guard and she automatically reaches for her guns, only to remember she took them off before departing for the bar. _Of course_ , she mumbles to herself, _of course the one time I decide to leave them here is the one time some jackass breaks in._
"Some jackass, huh? That's how you thank the man who came all this way to make sure none o' ya winnings from tonight were mysteriously gone in the morning? Though I s'pose lurking in the dark like this ain't doing me much good." The shadow finds the small reading lamp on the desk and clicks it on. Fortune blinks at the abrupt burst of light, catching a familiar wide-brimmed hat before looking away to allow her eyes a moment to adjust.
"You don't have to pull this damn mysterious act every time, you know. Gives me a heart attack and I am too glorious for such an embarrassing end like that, Twisted Fate." She glares at the man as he removes his hat and tosses a patchwork bag on the desktop.
"What's embarrassing about swoonin' over a handsome, honest dealer like myself?" |
c3b11c54faec48c5a3018694137c82fa | ['68d5416f5c8b455fa67b12c6b06fde24'] |
Violet Musings
It’s that damn shirt again.
Sherlock must wear it at least once a week. John presses his lips together in a firm line as Sherlock sits opposite him in the kitchen, that damn shirt stretching and tightening in all the right places, buttons straining across his chest. Nearly all of Sherlock’s button ups are just that small bit too tight, but this one is worse than the rest. It’s a deep, rich purple, the color of bloody royalty, and it looks so fucking good on Sherlock it should be a mortal sin. It contrasts sharply against the pale, unblemished creaminess of the skin on his neck, and it makes those blue eyes of his even brighter and more clear. And somehow, it makes those messy curls even darker and glossier, as well.
There’s a rustle as Sherlock picks up a tabloid magazine that John purchased for him at the shop, beginning to skim through it as he sips at his tea, and it obscures John’s view just a bit, which he’s both irritated and relieved by. He can’t have been looking more than a few seconds, but it feels like much longer, so he forcefully drags his eyes away and back to the Sunday paper he was reading before he was so...distracted. Intermittently, and subtly (or so he thinks), his eyes continue to flick up and take in how the satiny fabric gathers, tightens, loosens, and flows (and repeat. And repeat. And repeat.) across Sherlock’s torso.
John fights not to let his mind wander too badly, and stands, moving to deposit his mug in the sink and do the washing up. Every time he turns, his eyes still skim over Sherlock, however, and every time his back turns, the barest hint of a smirk appears on Sherlock’s face. It still amuses (and annoys, most of the time) Sherlock that John is an intelligent man, more so than most, but can still be so blissfully oblivious to obvious social experiments like this one.
He likes to file away all of John’s little reactions, and so he began to wear the shirt more when he noticed how John first reacted to it.
***
_They were going out to interview someone involved on a case that morning, and Sherlock walked out into the living room, buttoning the final button and flipping the collar down neatly. John had turned to say something, but he’d paused, mouth still slightly open.
_ _“What?” Sherlock lifted a brow, studying him as he shrugged into his suit jacket._ ( Eyes clouded, pupils dilated. Pleasure. Aesthetic pleasure; neat appearance, well put together for interview, freshly showered, no other cause of pleasure present. Movements slower, mouth open and stuck. Forgot what he meant to say. Distraction. Eyes trained on me. Aesthetic pleasure derived from me. )
_“...nothing,” John finally spoke, remembering once more how his voice worked. “New shirt?”_
_
_
_“Yes.”
“The color suits you.”_ _
__Sherlock furrowed his brow slightly._ ( John finds me physically attractive. Why? When? How? ) _He let out a noncommittal sort of grunt and turned to get his coat. “Let’s go, we’re late.”_
***
The reaction has changed since the initial, of course. John looks almost annoyed whenever Sherlock wears it now, and Sherlock knows it’s because it distracts him so much and makes his mind wander no matter how hard he tries to control it. Those big brown eyes always come wandering back to trail over Sherlock’s torso, the briefest flash of hunger and want in them every time. It could be classified as torture, but it’s too interesting to simply stop.
He doesn’t feel that thrill that people like to speak of when someone attractive ‘checks you out’, and John Watson is most certainly an attractive man. Well above average. Even Sherlock notices that, as little interest as he has in the matter. He does, however, enjoy how different it is. He is used to the majority of people looking at him with a mixture of many things - hate, hostility, confusion, anger, hurt, dullness, stupidity. All negative things. John looks at him so much differently, all the time. Sure, there are negatives mixed in - Sherlock doesn’t ever take care to censor himself for the sake of anyone’s feelings - but the way John looks at him is a novelty.
When John looks at him, he sees admiration, adoration, fascination, amusement, care, warmth, want, lust, hunger. In general, happiness. Positivity radiates from those eyes and Sherlock has never really seen that before. Sometimes with his mother in the past, but that was so long ago and this is here and now, every single day. And the damn purple shirt evokes those looks even more than others, so that Sherlock can bathe in them, soak them up, study them and file them away again and again. He’s come to enjoy those looks, so perhaps it’s become a bit more selfish than experimental at this point.
“Why do you always wear that shirt?” John suddenly breaks Sherlock’s train of thought and he blinks, looking up to meet his gaze. Well, that’s new. This is only the second time John’s brought up the shirt. His frustration is reaching a boiling point, he can see it. His shoulders are tense. “You must have hundreds, yet you wear it nearly every week. New favorite?”
“Yes.” Simple and to the point, as well as true on a certain level.
“Huh.”
“You said the color suited me,” Sherlock adds, voice even. “I agree.”
Shock registers on John’s features, and then pleasure. Bingo. His frustration has melted away and is forgotten in lieu of something more pleasurable - a commonplace need - Sherlock has remembered something he said. Something, for the most part, insignificant, and to boot, he’s acted upon it. John puffs up a little and smiles, appeased, and turns back to the washing with a little more pep in his movements. He looks proud of himself.
Sherlock may have shared a little too much - now John knows he wears the shirt all the time because of him - but it’s a sacrifice he was willing to make, and simple enough. From now on whenever he wears it, John will remember this, and those looks will grow warmer; fonder. It’s a strange new addiction, these looks. There’s definitely no magical thrill, but there’s certainly a vague fluttering he wants to study some more. | 770e1256d1dd43a2a6a6fcf0c4833c7d | ['68d5416f5c8b455fa67b12c6b06fde24'] |
If I Lose It (Don't You Lose Me)
**Author's Note:**
> Title of this work is from the song If I Lose It by Charlie Simpson.
Derek is lost. So lost. He feels as if the whole world has slowed in its rotation; as if gravity doesn’t work quite as well as it did. The fire happened three days ago exactly, and he’s been floating through each day expressionless and numb. If it feels like a nightmare, then it must be, right?
Laura is eighteen, so everything has fallen to her. As soon as it happened, she’d dragged Derek to the outskirts of town, to some old, abandoned warehouses. Derek can see that being an Alpha is rough on her. She’s far too young, and it was thrust upon her far too abruptly, but it’s her cross to bear and she’s been doing her best. She’s ensured that she is now Derek’s legal guardian, and she’s started in on the financial side of things. Everyone in the family had something to leave behind. He’s not sure how she’s doing it. He thinks it’s merely force of will, because she _has_ to. He happy it’s her, though. She’s better equipped to handle it. He’s barely able to function.
Derek finally snaps on an evening when Laura isn’t there. There’s an old, decrepit bathroom in the building they’ve been living in, and inside is a stained and dirty mirror. He’s caught his reflection in it, face warped and distorted by the stains and the age, and has been staring at himself for a good five minutes. His skin is sallow, dusted by scruff he hasn’t bothered to shave, and there are dark bruises under his eyes. His eyes look glazed and distant.
_Murderer,_ the reflection hisses at him. _You did this to them. This is all your fault._
He’s started shaking at that point, and it’s sharp and electric through his veins. He hasn’t felt anything in days, so it’s like a lightning strike. His breaths start to come in shorter, more rapid bursts, and the face in the mirror _moves,_ opens its mouth and talks to him, even though he can feel his own is immobile.
_You may as well have set that fire yourself. You were the trail of gasoline that led her right to the front door,_ it taunts, and his shaking gets worse. _How does it feel knowing that you murdered your entire family, Derek?_
Before he knows it, his fist has balled up and hits the mirror with a sickening _crunch._ The glass shatters into a million multi-faceted pieces, raining down around him, and his knuckles are assaulted by searing pain. And it’s glorious. It’s glorious because he finally feels the pain he’s supposed to be feeling. He gasps and stumbles backwards, relishing it, and knows it won’t heal until he picks out the shards buried in his skin. His chest heaves again, desperately sucking air in as his lungs seize up. He’s choking, acidic bile rising in the back of his throat, and that’s when he feels the burn behind his eyes as the tears try to claw their way to the surface.
His voice is rough and raw as he lets out an agonized roar; he hasn’t spoken since the fire, and he can still taste and feel the burn of the smoke. His scream makes it hurt worse, which is good. He wants the pain. He deserves it. He’s the one who deserves to be dead. He barrels his way out of the bathroom, ripping the door off its rusty hinges and throwing it against the nearest wall, where it splinters into pieces and falls to the floor.
Derek goes on a rampage, then. Everything he can get his hands on is thrown at the walls; old chairs, scrap metal, and old bits of wood. He rips exposed pipes out of the walls and bends them and then he moves to their sleeping area, unsheathing his claws and ripping sleeping bags, blankets and pillows to shreds until clouds of feathers float up into the air.
He doesn’t know how long it goes on, but the place is completely destroyed when Laura shows up. He’s moved on to punching holes in the rotted wooden walls, splinters joining the glass and making the blood run hotter and stickier down the back of his hand and wrist. He can barely hear her yells; it’s like his ears are stuffed with cotton, or as if she’s far away. But she’s next to him, claws digging into his shoulder to get his attention. He turns with a snarl and then quails at her bared fangs and red eyes.
She drags him out of the warehouse forcefully, and he stumbles to his knees outside, panting harshly. “With me,” she barks, shifting further and dropping to all fours. His head is still all over the place, still a mess, but he knows to obey an Alpha’s orders. It’s primal and ingrained. He shifts too, and they take off into the nearby forest.
He knows what she’s doing, then. She’s running him into the ground and wearing him out. Every time it seems like he might be slowing, she circles around and snaps at his heels. He needs this, though. He needs to run away from it all, even if it’s only for a little while, and so does Laura. He loses himself in it, breathing in the familiar scents of the trees surrounding them, the dead, damp leaves under his paws, and the various animals scurrying away or hiding in fear as they pass. He doesn’t go after any of them, not this time. |
956eff8b445841708c45dd869fd9bd0d | ['68eba71672cf44d78f3962de7274f4b8'] | Adric's brother
Adric is laying down on his bed. On his bed is used tissues, buckets of puke (some were spilt), and blood. His sickness was so worse that he groaned loudly a lot.
Nyssa walks in asking to Adric "Are you okay, Adric? Are you feeling better?" Adric can't move or anything. He is so stiff. "No, Nyssa" he reply. His voice is weak and raspy. "having common cold, food poisoning, and coughing up blood has been really getting on nerves. The point is, I think I'll never be better" Nyssa walks to Adric and rubs his forehead "I'm sorry about this" she said as her tears were coming out "It's your fault, Nyssa" Adric intervened as he tilted his head up a little bit "It's just I had too much food and I been out in the cold all day" Nyssa sighs in relief.
"Have I told you about my brother, Varsh?" Adric questions as he looked up to the ceiling. Nyssa shakes her head. "Only his death. That's all. Was he a good man?" She asked as she hold Adric's arm. "No he wasn't" Adric declined "in his heart he does" Nyssa looked down "what did your brother do wrong?" She asked "In Alzarius, Stealing Riverfruits was a felony." Adric replied as he looked slowly at Nyssa who was a nodding "Go on" she told. "My Brother, was a leader of a rebellion called Outler. He recruited his friends to join him and it was a success" Adric said "let me tell you when all of this happened"
In flashback, Adric was doing his Math work at the fields in Alzarius. He has a paper on his lap and a textbook in front of him. He stopped working when he heard that loud siren. "What's going on at the starliner?" He asked then he ran towards there. Meanwhile in the starliner, Dexeter is trying to find out what set off the siren. "Dexeter!" Draith cried as he ran to him. "Yes, Draith. I trying to figure it out what cause the starliner to set off the siren" he said as he's trying to figure it out by looking through the footage from the security cameras. Draith already know what caused the siren to go off by telling Dexter "It was Varsh and his friends. They escape from the starliner instead of bringing Riverfruits to us" Dexeter turned around with a confused look on his face "What do you mean they escape?! How could you know that?" He questioned twice. "It's from this note" Draith handed out a note to Dexeter. Dexeter then grabbed it and reads it silently. It lasted about a minute and shouted "That's absurd!"
Adric is already in the starliner. He's trying to find Decider Draith and Decider Dexeter. He found them in the security room and ran to them. Draith and Dexeter saw Adric and the Deciders cried out "Adric!" Adric stopped running and questions "What caused the siren to go off?!" Draith and Dexeter looked at each other then Draith nodded to Dexeter. Dexeter hands Adric the note and Adric takes it then reads "Adric, me and my friends had enough of doing our work for the Deciders. So, I came up with a gang named called Outler and recruited my friends to join me. It was a huge success and my friends voted me as the leader of Outlers. Don't bother me about joining in. Sincerely, Varsh. P.S, We've broken all family ties." Adric stayed silent for 10 seconds after reading the note. Then he crumpled up the note and cried. Ending the flashback.
"That's was tragic, Adric" Nyssa said. Adric sniffs. "Want to hear the most disgusting part about my brother?" He asked then Nyssa nodded. "A year before Varsh and his friends become Outlers, Varsh literally raped Keara!" Nyssa gasp "I mean it. It was actually disgusting and disturbing. I was the only witness and promised to my brother to never talk about him raping Keara to her father and the Deciders." Nyssa then stands up and says "Thank you for talking more about your brother" Nyssa kisses Adric on his forehead. "Get well soon, Adric" Nyssa then leaves Adric alone. Adric then laughs weakly.
"Feel better soon" said a familer voice. "I'll always look up to you in spirit" "Thanks... Varsh" Adric said then went to sleep. | e33aa6035c05440fbedc944f1128dd08 | ['68eba71672cf44d78f3962de7274f4b8'] | An Outlaw shows himself visible in front of Adric and Diablo. He is an anthromorphic buzzard that has a robotic arm. He wears a black cowboy hat with a arrow through it, a long black trenchcoat, black pants, and black boots. "Howdy, Sheriff Adric, Diablo. My name is Zopilote" Zopilote introduced "I'm a bounty Hunter hired by Kaiyando and Bullock. They want me to Kill you and your partners." Zopilote then laughs so menacingly. Adric chuckles "Okay. You want to kill me? Well go get me" He said. Zopilote then flys into Adric but Adric jumps over him. "Diablo. Shoot him now!" Adric commanded then Diablo uses his Arm Guns to shoot Zopilote but it doesn't seem to be affected. "Guns are useless if you fight me." Zopilote said talking about that guns can't kill him. Diablo facepalms. Zopilote turned invisible. "Aw crap. Where is he?" Adric questions as he and Diablo look around. Adric gets punched in a gut hard. "Sheriff!" Diablo cried then he gets choked. "You will never defeat me." Zopilote said to Diablo as he's choking him. "I'll let you go till you lose consciousness" Adric stands up and sees Diablo getting choked. Adric then growled. He took out his gun and points at Zopilote then shoots at him. It's still inaffective. Zopilote turned Visible then drops Diablo. "I guess you didn't listen to me, Sheriff. I'm gonna say it again, guns can't kill me" Adric puts his gun away while saying "alright. Guess I'm going to fight you hand to hand combat, Outler -i mean- Outlaw." Once again, Adric accidentally said 'Outler'. Zopilote laughs then turned invisible. "Good luck finding me, Sheriff" he said. Adric stay calm. He took deep breaths. He clench his fists. Zopilote punched him in a face so hard that it causes his teeth to fall out. He then kicked Adric in a stomach.
Rattlescale stands up and sees Adric getting beaten by Zopilote. "Oh no you don't, Varmint!" He said. His arms turned into snakes then Rattlescale hissed. Zopilote keep on punching Adric so hard that his face is starting to bleed. "I hope you die... Sheriff" Zopilote said to Adric. Zopilote then gets bitten by Rattlescale's snake arms. He turned visible. Zopilote then turned around to to Rattlescale and grabbed him by his throat "Never bite me, Again!" Zopilote warned Rattlescale then he thrown Rattlescale out of town. Zopilote then sees Adric who isn't doing anything. He probably died or lose consciousness. "Kaiyando and Bullock will be proud of me when they see this." He said the laughs. He then flies away to somewhere.
The Doctor sees the whole battle from the window. He is was shocked and upset. "Adric!?" He shouted thinking that Adric died for real this time.
6. The Doctor helps Adric
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Fifth Doctor helps Adric on defeating Zopilote. He knows Zopilote's weakness.
Adric is laying down on his bed. He still either loss consciousness or dead. The Doctor, Tegan, Diablo, and Pi are looking at him. They're all feel worried except for Diablo. "is Adric going to be okay, Doctor?" Pi ask to The Doctor. The Doctor looks at Pi and replied "I'm not sure." Pi then cried. The Doctor patted Pi gently. Tegan looks like she's gonna cry. Diablo doesn't even give a damn. Adric groans and opens up his eyes a little bit. The Doctor, Tegan, And Pi sigh in relief. "You're okay" The Doctor said in relief. "I am. Zopilote was very tough. I lost consciousness. I want to fight him again but I have no idea what's Zopilote's weakness" Adric replied back. He was talking about Zopilote and he doesn't know his weakness. "I know his weakness. Zopilote isn't from this planet" The Doctor explained "There's an information about Zopilote's species in the information room in my Tardis. You'll come with me."
It was suddenly Night Time, Winds are calm in the desert. Adric is riding on his horse and the Doctor is sitting behind him. Adric's face is already healed because Alzarians healed fast. "Almost there, Adric" The Doctor said. Adric scoffs and replied "I know that, Doctor" the horse stops in front of the Tardis. Adric got off his horse first. The Doctor got off Adric's horse last. The Doctor and Adric walked to the Tardis then The Doctor opened the doors. They both enter the Tardis. "Follow me, Adric" The Doctor commanded while Adric closes the Doors. |
b8974055d35f4c63a13b5cc63df484e2 | ['68effffc858342589d1d5bf16cb90011'] | The crystal was the hardest to find. Something that would absorb his soul, his essence, /his/ Hux in his completion would take days to find. Kylo ordered at least three ships to start scouring. All he could work on was the droid making it as close to the real one as he could. It was the only way to stop his mind from thinking of the possibility that the crystal wouldn’t arrive. That the only chance Hux had at making it would be gone.
He didn’t sleep. He forced himself awake and with every moment he worked on creating this droid. It wouldn’t, couldn’t be a perfect replica. His skin wouldn’t have the same freckles. His hair wouldn’t be the same shade of red. He wouldn’t be perfect. But it would be enough.
Kylo heard it before he was even warned. He had linked himself to that room long before now. The erratic beeping of Hux’s monitor. Hux was becoming unstable. Worse. It had only been a few days. They didn’t think he’d survive the night.
Nothing was done, the droid half finished the crystal not here. Tears pricked at his eyes without him meaning to. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He rushed into his room. Hux looked like a skeleton. Pathetic, weak. Nothing like he was. Hux was so much more. Kylo had seen him look like so much more. It hurt every part of him to be in this room now. Like him being here was draining Hux’s life force faster. Kylo let out a shuddering sob.
He collapsed onto his knees next to his bed, pressing his forehead against the man’s hands and apologizing. Openly apologizing. For everyone, including the nervous nursing staff to see. The great Kylo Ren on his knees sobbing over a boy.
A boy he loved.
Or could love at the very least.
He needed more time. He couldn’t give him more time. He had done everything for him. He fought with his master, spent every waking moment trying to save him.
Nothing could save him.
He was gone.
An alert. Kylo’s head lifted up and a stormtrooper in the room picked up the comm on his hip answering it. He knew what was being said without having to hear the words.
Kylo immediately demanded that the necessary equipment be brought up and for the crystal to be brought here immediately. His voice was cracked and breaking but no one laughed. No one paused. Everything was moving too fast, and Kylo had to look away and words Hux. He swallowed his sadness and moved to push Hux’s bangs from his face.
“You’re going to be immortal.”
6. Someone Gets Hurt Pt. 2
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> This part is completely in Hux's point of view
His nap hadn't lasted long before he woke himself up with the way he was choking on air. This was obviously no ordinary cold, but he figured he could power through it, assuring Kylo that he was okay.
Then the diagnosis came.
He'd finally convinced Kylo to let the professionals in the medbay have a look at him, but he almost wished he hadn't. A fatal disease.
He refused to believe it. "You can't be serious. It's just a mutated cold virus, right?" For the first time he was afraid for his life. He hadn't even been this scared back on Starkiller, trying to find Ren and get out of there before they exploded. "Surely there's something you can do?" He managed to ask between bouts of violent coughing. When the doctor started explaining he only managed to listen to a few words before the reality sunk in. He tried to look to Kylo for something, for comfort, but he just walked away. In that moment he felt incredibly alone.
He let the doctors hook him up to monitors and fluids, lost in his own head. Why had Kylo left him? Perhaps now that he was dying (he still couldn't wrap his head around that) he'd lost interest, gone off to find a new plaything. He started to feel anger building inside of him, at Kylo for leaving him to deal with this on his own, for the doctors not being able to do anything, at himself for not taking better care of himself.
The next few days were hell. He swore he could feel his life draining away with every painful exhale. The few moments when Kylo would visit were the least shitty moments of his day. The soft touches felt as if they were taking the pain away for a second, but the way Kylo's face twisted in pain only soured it.
Then the day came when Ren refused to touch him. The pain was nearly unbearable, each breath feeling like he was inhaling shards of glass and sand, and the coughs that shook his frame made him fear he'd be torn apart. Soon his muscles became too fatigued to do much more than breathe shallowly.
Eventually he couldn't really do or think much of anything. His eyes took on a blank stare at the ceiling, the nurses having to change his positions for him since he lacked the energy to do so himself. Before, he whiled away the hours to his eventual death fantasizing about what he might have done, what he might still be able to do, but now he barely thought of anything. The effort of breathing started to take up most of his concentration.
When Kylo disappeared completely was also when Hux began to give up. Why would a Knight like him want to be around a near-corpse, anyway? At this point he dreamt of death and the ease it would bring, half-hoping it would come sooner. He welcomed the idea for a while.
Then he got his wish. | 2132f77b441d47359575417a226307ab | ['68effffc858342589d1d5bf16cb90011'] | "Don't hurt yourself." Kylo frowned, not wanting his expensive equipment to be broken because Hux was hasty. He walked towards him, but kept some distance, going to his legs instead. Still bare metal and wires he hadn't been able to fix yet. "When I fix you down here.. Do you want to be able to work. Sexually. For the future. You'll be alive for a long time," Longer then Kylo was alive. He didn't like that thought. "I can make it feel somewhat normal. And look real. But if you have no interest anymore, I can make you flat."
"I seem to recall you saying you'd make me immortal. I didn't think you meant it literally." The thought of having all the time in the galaxy, so long as he didn't break...he could do so much. Hux looked down at Kylo. "But is that really something you can do? You can make me...normal?" He supposed it wasn't too far-fetched, since people were willing to go to incredible lengths for sex.
Kylo nodded, thought a moment then reached his hand out and force floated a tablet into his hand. He punched something into it and then handed it to him. He could hold it himself right? It was a website specifically for pleasure droid parts and had a long, long, long long long list of every possible shape size and color of every type of alien sex organ there was. To be installed on a droid. "I ordered one." Was he embarrassed about that fact? His face looked somewhat red.
If Hux had the capacity, his face would have flushed completely red. "I hope you ordered something at least somewhat similar to what I have...er, used to have." Well at least now he knew that if they wanted to they could continue the activities they'd enjoyed those couple of nights before he got sick. "Would it be wrong for me to assume you'd want to help, ah, test it out?" He tried to idly scroll through the catalog. Perk of being a droid now: it was a lot easier to hide his emotions.
Kylo did flush that time and he turned to grab something from the other table before sitting down and going to work on his legs again. He had so much work to do. He was also starving but he didn't want to leave Hux. "It looks like what I remember it did." He didn't exactly have the best idea since most of the time he had been focusing on his ass. He would get his ass perfectly he was pretty sure. But his dick.. "I'll help you through all the testing to make sure everything works yes. Like I said after your legs are finished we'll start increasing and decreasing sensitivity. That will involve.. A lot of touching."
Hux watched Kylo work, a little worried since it looked as if he hadn't eaten or slept in days. "You should take a break. Get some food, get some rest." He didn't really want him to leave him alone just yet, but it wouldn't be good for either of them if Kylo kept pushing himself like this. "I'm not going anywhere."
Kylo snorted a little and put the back of his hand against his mouth. "This was the opposite a few days ago. You being the one who..." He sniffed, letting himself have emotions finally? After all this, Hux was here and alive. After watching him die. Kylo slammed his hand on the metal counter and stood up. Forcing emotions back. "I'll go get something to eat but I'm not sleeping." He turned to walk towards the door. Two Stormtroopers were standing out front when the door opened. Guarding it.
Hux watched Kylo leave, noticing the stormtroopers stationed outside the room. It felt strange having their roles suddenly reversed in that aspect. While he was out, he inspected his hands a little more, figuring out how much he could feel and do. He glanced over at the unfinished legs that Kylo had been working on and tried to make sense of the machinery. It certainly gave him something better to do than play with his hands like a toddler.
Kylo was only gone for 30 minutes, having apparently showered and changed his clothes. He had some water and some packets with him. Instant food. For later. He sat back down and started working on his legs again silently. "You can use that tablet I gave you to do work. If you're getting antsy. You should have messages informing you what has happened since you were last able to work. Your Lieutenant has been doing your job while you've been.. Sick."
Hux nodded, holding up the tablet in front of him again. He trusted that Mitaka had done his best to keep up with everything. It probably helped that Hux regularly worked ahead of schedule what with his sleepless nights. He made to open up what he'd been in the middle of when everything had happened, but found himself blankly staring at the screen. "How long has it been?" He asked quietly. It had been hard to discern the passage of time while he was sick, while he had been dying. Plus there was no way for him to know how much time had passed between his death and when he woke up earlier. |
cf37dd12b20748608acf892af30c056c | ['68f1a17cecf74b33b23d3daae791a6f5'] |
Game Night
"ONE OF THESE DAYS I'M GOING TO BURN THIS PLACE!" Daisy stormed through the door of the shared Echo dorm after another Smash match. She was completely burned, had several scars, but for some reason her earrings were completely undamaged. "Midgar is such a mess." she exclaimed while throwing Blue Toad in his doggy bench. "It doesn't happen everyday that you get targeted by some ancient god" she growled as she slipped into her comfortable dress. "Sadly, that doesn't apply to all of us" Dark Pit sighed. A book fell off of the shelf, almost hitting him on the head. "Yeah, what's up with that?" Daisy pointed at the obviously haunted bookshelf. "You angered some deity? Is that why your angel wings..." Daisy gestured as if casting a spell "...thingies are black?" "It's Viridi." Dark Pit inhaled. "She's my boss. You wouldn't get it" "I suppose." Daisy shrugged. "Maybe I can soothe her, being a fellow goddess and all." Daisy pointed at her body before she quickly ducked to avoid another incoming book, Theology for Dummies. Daisy shrieked. "Gah, your world is so weird! You're weird, this whole.." Daisy frantically gestured around the room "THING. It's weird."
"And why do we even have a bookshelf? I don't read anything that doesn't contain the word "Scandal" or "Family Feud" and I'm sure you even can't read." Daisy pointed at Dark Pit. "Or so I heard. Whatever."
"That would be my idiot counterpart, Pit." Dark Pit stretched himself out on the sofa. "Of course you got an idiot counterpart. I bet he has one too. Oh wait, that's you." Daisy forced out a belittling smile, but she was still visibly angry. "How's the shroom doing?" he asked. "Shroom?" Daisy squinted her eyes. "Oh, you mean Blue Toad? I got him at the start of this contest. I don't like him. Might have him neutered."
Lucina and Chrom then entered the dorm, as they get shocked slightly, probably from lightning. "Mario Circuit is evil incarnated." Chrom groaned. Lucina whinced. "I fought evil reincarnated to save you in another timeline. It's not something to be taken lightly."
Then Richter and Ken stormed through the door. The two have been buddies as soon as the Echo Project started and quickly found their shared interest of working out. "We nailed that!" Ken shouted, fist pumped. "Holy Water into Shoryuken. Works everytime" Richter retorted, before the two shared a handshake worth a solid 7 on the no-homo scale from 0 to Klance.
Finally, Dark Samus materialized on the couch of the apartment. "I lost. Now it's time for food." she said as she teleported away and blasted the fridge before eating it entirely.
Then Ken looked around the room and saw the usual. Dark Samus sitting in the corner where the fridge usually was, Daisy and Dark Pit arguing about anything at all, Lucina and Chrom silently reading together at the coffee table. Lucina entranced in her mother's tactician book and Chrom reading about the newest lawnmowers and at the window, Richter throwing bottles of Holy Water at the crows outside. Some of them really needed a hobby, or a friend.
"OK guys, this just popped into my brain, but how about a game night? Ken pointed through the room. "Take some time to destress, don't think about fighting all the time" Ken clapped in his hands like an elementary school teacher, which was mostly Ken's role as the big brother of the Echo Fighters. Since he was famous as the original clone, all Echoes looked up to him in some way.
"Sure hotstuff" Daisy exclaimed while sitting upside down in the only chair in the room. "Interacting with these people here and watching them embarass themselves?" Dark Pit moaned "No better way to spend the night." he continued, smirking. Lucina and Chrom hi-fived. They've paired-up in war before, but no war would prove to be bloodier than a party with all the Echo Fighters involved. Richter also nodded and Dark Samus purred in delight and gave a thumbs up.
"Then we'll do that, but now it's time for your next matches. Daisy, you're up at Flat Zone X" "Sweet, I love Lucina's home stage" she said, still with her legs bend over the back of the chair. "Dark Samus, you have a doubles match with Richter at Luigi's Mansion. Remember to spam those Neutral Bs like we discussed." Dark Samus and Richter nodded in unison. "Lucina is up for an Elite Smash match at the Omega Coliseum." Lucina raised her sword in the air, which damaged the lamp on the ceiling. "And the rest of you can test a new stage called Mario Pissing." Dark Pit groaned. Chrom chuckled. "He said pissing" "If you're looking for me" Ken continued "Always" Daisy interrupted, giving Ken a suggestive wink. Ken shrugged and finished his sentence. "I'll be in Training to gear up some new combos. Good luck and I'll see you all at game night in an hour."
After the hour had passed, all of the Echo Fighters slowly dripped back into the apartment. Lucina won and so did Dark Pit and Chrom, although Dark Pit noted that "On Mario Pissing, there are no winners". On the other hand, Daisy lost to a lion cage combo and Dark Samus didn't understand the meaning of Team Attack, leaving Richter damaged with a barrage of projectiles. "Just dodge them if they bother you so much man" Dark Samus said carrying Richter through the doorway.
Ken welcomed the gang back and explained the game night. "Ok, all eight of us are gonna be competing in duos in various games." Daisy counted heads in the room "You mean seven." "No, I'm counting Blue Toad. He's part of the team." Ken pointed at the shroom locked in the doggy bench. "Blue Toad doesn't even have sentience." Daisy scoffed. "He does" "Didn't notice" Daisy shrugged. "Just like you didn't notice with Dark Pit?" Ken asked. "Can't help it he's so lifeless. You sure he isn't still a Spirit?" Daisy pondered. Dark Pit smacked her on the head. "You think Spirits can do that?" Dark Pit smugly asked. "Yes, in fact, I've been slapped harder by literal ghosts."
"Dark Pit and Daisy, you'll be a team for the first game of charades." Ken pointed them to the couch. "Just so you know, my pinky stands for Beyonce. Everything goes from there. She's the perfect frame of reference." Daisy went through the tactics with her newfound teammate. "Who's Beyonce?" Dark Pit replied. Daisy looked shocked. "I thought you knew all goddesses?" Another book fell off of the shelf, making a bit of a fake coughing sound. "Man, we're going to lose." Meanwhile, Ken had already assigned the other teams. "Richter teams up with Lucina, Chrom and Dark Samus will form the third team and I will team up with Blue Toad myself"
"You all know how this works right?" Ken asked. "Dr. Mario has written down several objects on these cards, and one teammate has to describe the object to their other teammate." "We know how this works. And I'm a bunch of parasites in a trenchcoat" Dark Samus spoke with as much contempt in her voice as her self-invented voice computer allowed her. "That's such a cool band name" Daisy spoke under her breath. "A buuunch of parasiiiayayayates in a trèèénchcoat" she whispered to herself.
First up was Ken, who paired up with Blue Toad. "Okay little guy, let's win this" Ken smiled at Blue Toad before taking the first paper out of the hat. Ken looked at the paper that said "Bruce Willis" and started the time. "Die Hard, Welcome to the party, actor, super ripped!" "Bruce. Bruce....Bruce.... WILLIS!" Blue Toad screamed, with the familliar Toad scream coming out with the excitement. "Yes!" Ken shouted and picked the next paper, saying "Rachel Green". "Was in Friends, blonde lady, shouldn't have ended up with Ross" Ken kept murmuring about Ross after that. Blue Toad then yelled the answer "RACHEL" "Good, that's the first part. Second part is a color." Ken pointed. "BLUE" Blue Toad yelled from his gut. "Not that color." Ken gestured Blue Toad to keep guessing. Blue Toad looked at him with an expression of pure bewilderment. "What do you mean "Not blue?" "Time's up" Lucina said. "GREEN." Ken yelled. "I meant GREEN" "Never heard of that." Blue Toad crossed his arms. "So you thought Rachel Blue was a name?" Ken cooled down, but still visibly confused at Blue Toad. "Didn't she write Crazy-Ex Girlfriend?" Blue Toad asked. "That's Rachel Bloom." Dark Pit interrupted. "I hate that show." Daisy grumbled. "They never paid me for using my story" Dark Pit was surprised at the connection. "Luigi was a raging alcoholic with self-esteem issues?" he asked. "And Italian too." "Huh." Dark Pit looked as if he had an epiphany. "It makes a certain sense."
"Okay then." Ken shrugged, "Next up are Richter and Lucina. Let's see what the two of them can do as a team." Ken took over as the timekeeper. Lucina drew the first card. "Minerva" "Hopefully I educated her enough on the Greek gods." Dark Pit said to Daisy. "Poor Richter doesn't stand a chance though." "Okay Dark Pit said this was the goddess of wisdom but my friend..." Lucina started "Must be Minerva then. Alucard named his werewolf after her!" Richter immediately guessed. "Oh that is so cute! My friend named her wyvern after her!" Lucina replied. "Wyverns are the best!" Richter did a thumbs up. "So cute!"
"Ok ok ok next one iiiiiis" Lucina reached for the paper that said "Jorts" "Ooooh I love these" Lucina reacted. "They're like tiny pants" she gestured around her legs "but they're made of denim and I want a pair." "I did not teach her enough fashion sense yet" Daisy leaned towards Dark Pit. Lucina continued. "And it has this weird name, combining the fabric and the lenght." "JORTS" Richter continued "Fashion is funny like that." Lucina beamed "Can't to learn more about that now that I'm not fighting in a war." "You only need two things and that's denim and scissors." Richter showed off his outfit. "And that's time!" Ken interrupted. "Two points for you!" "Oh wow, you should teach me how to do that!" Lucina started pulling a loose thread on her own outfit. "Sure, let's go right now. If you tell me about that wyvern." Richter took her hand. "Oh yes, she's called Minerva as I said and she..." Lucina continued talking in the distance. "Good to hear they're finally going to bone." Daisy said. Chrom chuckled "Haha, yeah, they're gonna play with the werewolf. I get it. Bone. I mean. What else could it be?" Chrom asked. "You know, boning. Special hugging. S-supporting." Dark Pit glanced at Chrom. Chrom's eyes shot wide open and stood up from his chair before being called back into the room by Ken
"Okay Chrom, you're up with Dark Samus." Chrom walked to the table where Dark Samus was waiting. "Okay so who takes the paper and who guesses?" Chrom asked. "I don't guess. I know." Dark Samus said. "Take the paper, paper boy." "If you want so." Chrom reached for the paper. "Oh. That's a tough one." "You can pass" "Pass". Chrom picked a new one. "Oh, I know this one. This is...wait no. I'm mixing things up. Pass" "Try to describe the word next time." Dark Samus gave a tip. "Will do." Chrom sighed and picked another paper. "Uhh first part is another word for angry, second part is not off and theeeen the first letter of the alphabet" Dark Samus immediately replied "Madonna" "Next one. This is the friendly honey making insect, not off again and then the first letter of the alphabet" "Beyonce" Daisy looked as if she looked into the camera in a mockumentary. "Almost time" Ken warned Chrom "Last one then. Synonym for certain. Synonym for holding someone captive and the last part sounds like the plural of the synonym of house" "Sher. Lock. Holmes" "AND TIME!" Ken shouted. "That's three points for this unlikely duo." "No idea who these people are." Chrom admitted.
"Then there's only one team left." Daisy glared at Dark Pit. "I'll pick the cards though." Dark Pit replied. "I have a certain way with words." "If you insist." Daisy slapped her face to keep herself awake while jumping up and down in the air. Dark Pit picked the first piece of paper. "Psychologist most famous for coining the term Oedipus Complex. Early modern era. Expressionism." "Sigmund Freud." Daisy exclaimed. "Little bitch." "More like genius." "Next one is an amazing Renaissance painter, painted the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel but also made wonderful statues such as the David." "Michelangelo aka best ninja turtle." Daisy replied. "Of course." Dark Pit wasn't surprised at Daisy's vast knowledge of the lore around New York's sewer dwellers. "Last one is an ocean dweller that takes the shell of others to protect its back." "Hermit crab. That's the bitch." Daisy cited the Tumblr post that she saw in multiple Twitter threads on the site's best work. "And I think that's time." "Yup." Ken confirmed Daisy's suspicion.
"That was a pretty swell game. We've seen several tactics regarding communication, finding eachother in the heat of competition, we learned about color" Ken glared at Toad and then looked at Lucina and Richter, who entered the living room in eachothers clothes. "And even fashion." "And we learned the power of an abrupt ending." Daisy added. "I don't think that was in any of these rounds." Ken retorted confused. "Sure." Daisy ended the conversation. "Round 2!" Ken added. His phone bleeped. "Aww, too bad guys. You got called for your next round of Smash." Ken shared the text on his phone. "Richter and Chrom are up at Gerudo Valley, Dark Pit and Daisy go to Luigi's Mansion, Looks like I'm up at Wuhu Island. Lucina, you got called in for a match on Battlefield. Dark Samus can go do whatever she wants, she's not on the schedule for the next ten minutes. Good luck." | babc1a0c70ee464d8e73ab8adb79202e | ['68f1a17cecf74b33b23d3daae791a6f5'] | Daisy gestured, as she tended to do when she was rambling about anything. "It felt too forced with Luigi. Like I was solely created to be a tennis doubles partner to him. And we're great friends, don't get me wrong, but the pressure of being a relationship only makes us worse together. Five foot tall couple statues at the beach don't substitute love. Although they really nailed my ass. Have I told how great my ass is? I'm in great shape."
"Yes, your ass is, what the kids say, the bomb"
"Nobody says that"
"Good"
"Anyways, sounds like I'm up for the karaokay machine. Let me show you how it's done. Hey Pitato, hit it!"
Dark Pit grumbled. "You know I hate that name. I know I lost that bet two months ago, but can you please call me Dark Pit like the rest does?"
"One, nobody calls you Dark Pit Pitato-patio, my nickname caught on" Daisy winked as Dark Pit groaned. "And second, it's over after tonight. The bet was up to Valentine's Day, remember?"
"Or till death us part. So I'd watch out tonight" Dark Pit snarked. "Don't want to end up at the other end of my new staff" "Oh poor thing, I think I have the better staff, being a princess with a castle and all."
"Not that kind of staff, I meant my sniper" Dark Pit rolled his eyes "So did I" Daisy replied confused and slightly offended at the assumption that Daisy doesn't carry a sniper with her at all times. "I have some castle roofs to defend. Don't want some taxfrauding hippohorse to lay its eggs there."
Dark Pit blinked, visibly confused, then shrugged "I shouldn't be surprised. I knew your kingdom was weird. Befitting of the one ruling it, I suppose. I doubt I've ever seen you take something seriously. You should try it like the rest of the adults here." Chrom, meanwhile, used his stomach pump to insert egg nog directly into his body as Dr. Mario tried to carry him back to the first aid department.
"I am serious. And you've met Yoshi. He's not that weird." Daisy shrugged.
More visible confusion from Dark Pit's side. "I'll start up your favorite song and leave the humiliation to you. That seems to be your talent."
"And you play the guitar, maybe you're good at that, Starch-angel Pitato."
"Nice. Clever." Dark Pit sighed.
"Thanks babe" Daisy replied with matching finger guns.
Dark Pit started playing. While he was a talented guitarist, he only knew how to play his own theme. Much to the dismay of the other Echoes, his repetoire was kinda limited. However, Daisy still knew how to turn this into a show of her own, yelling some of Little John of Cooking By The Book glory's best lyrics through the suave rhythm of the guitar. "Break it down, bitch, let me see what you got" What Dark Pit lacked in improvising talent, Daisy more than made up for with what eventually turned out to be a mix of rap, Taylor Swift's best and ASMR. "So give me a blank space baby" she whispered while pumping her first. "And I'll shout my name."
Applause ensued.
"Hey Daisy!" Dark Pit shoved into her. "Why don't we take another bet? I'm ready to win. I assume you have your sniper with you?" Daisy took out Blue Toad from under her dress. "Cool party, you know, some people have called me fungi in the past. Eh? Eh?"
"Yeah and one of these days I'm gonna use it."
Daisy continued to rummage through her dress. "Flower Cup 2002, Bob-Omb, Key to Coliseum, matches, lighter. Dag Nabbit where is it?" Daisy mumbled when going through her corset. "Ah, there it is." Daisy whipped out her sniper. It looked advanced, with blinkers and all sorts of buttons. "The alien that kidnapped me. Long story."
"Then let us go to the roof"
The roof of Luigi's Mansion was always a sight to behold. The moon shined bright over the house, and the architecture looked well when disguised by the night. The ghosts didn't dare to show their face since almost all Echo Fighters knew a thing or two about ghost busting.
"The rules are as follows" Dark Pit continued. "Richter over there has three bottles of holy water. The person that hits all three bottles wins. The winner can ask the loser anything, truth or dare style."
"Holy water right? Shouldn't they combust once they sense your aura?" Daisy remarked. "I'm an angel. That's as holy as you can get it" Dark Pit retorted. "Do you even know how Holy Water works?" "I'm more of an Holy Smokes person myself. And regular molotovs work on everything."
Dark Pit snorted.
The bottles of Holy Water shined bright in the otherwise dim woods, although the moon illuminated the area with a silver rim.
"So where did you get that sniper? It looks alien." Dark Pit asked. Daisy looked at it and smiled. "That's because it is" "Pretty sweet. Didn't know Princess Daisy went to space" Dark Pit glowed at the sight of the lights. Daisy glowed as well. "Aside from the time you got kidnapped, of course." Daisy's glow faded as she heard that word. "Of course. People remember that. That and Mario Stadium. That and my name."
Dark Pit looked confused, then he smiled and exhaled as if reading a good punchline in public. "I get it. People see me as broody Pit, a clone with a slightly better theme song." Dark Pit air guitarred the intro to his theme while rolling his eyes. Daisy lit up and took her hands out of her dress pocket, ready to rant. "People remember the wrong things. They remember the newsworthy, they remember the outliers. They remember your failures and rookie mistakes." she said while miming a stadium burning to ashes. "And they remember your name because of that. And it's hard to change memory man." Daisy sighed while aiming. "For the record, I think you're a great person." Dark Pit admitted begrudgingly "Nah, you hate my guts" Daisy replied from behind her reticle. "Possibly. But that's your charm" Dark Pit meant that.
"I hear that a lot. You're not the worst either" Daisy looked back from her reticle. "I also get that a lot" Dark Pit brooded with a small sarcastic eyebrow raise.
"That's one" she whispered as she shot a bottle. The blue flames burned in the night. "That's two aaaaaaaaaaaand that's three" Daisy sighed with relief "Impressive. That's...pretty memorable to me." "Thanks Pitato" Dark Pit glared. "Sorry, it just sticks"
"OK, here we go" Dark Pit shimmied his shoulders and picked up his staff and charged it up. He aimed with a steady hand and shot. "That's one". He charged again. His hand started to shake, but Dark Pit corrected himself and shot again. "Two". The last one was quite easy, the recticle lined up perfectly. He pushed the trigger and at the last moment, twisted his wrist. "Looks like I missed."
Daisy celebrated. "Ooooooh yeaaaah, Daisy number one alright!" She's a terrible dancer. She does have the rhythm, but her enthusiasm takes over every part of her body, resulting into a dance that features too much elbow swings. Dark Pit smiled.
"Looks like you won." Dark Pit sighed. "What do you want?"
Daisy bit her lip. "How about a date?" she said with her acted bravado. Dark Pit smiled. "Sounds good to me." |
e279929448424bd296382760a180d570 | ['6901041aaf3d473ca0633058e576fb35'] |
Hot Chocolate
“Wanna watch a movie with us (Y/N)?” Steve and Bucky sat on one of the large sofas in the communal living area.
You walked passed them to the kitchen to make yourself a warm drink in the hopes it would help you sleep. You ducked your head as you thought about your answer. You had developed a crush on both of them about ten minutes after meeting them a year ago when you were assigned to work alongside the Avengers. Both of them had helped you move into your room at the compound. Steve had been so sweet trying to make you feel welcome, asking if you needed anything, making conversation with you whenever you crossed paths, and appearing from no-where to help you carry whatever you had in your arms. Bucky was similar just with less talking. He wouldn’t ask, you would just see his hand placing a cup of coffee on your desk as you worked or would help you cook dinner when it was your turn. The thought of spending time with them with no other members of the team around made your palms damp and your heart skip a few beats.
“Sure, what’re you watching?” You answered pulling the jar of hot chocolate powder from the cupboard. “Either of you want a hot chocolate?” Bucky shook his head in response.
“No, thanks (Y/N), and we’re watching an old John Wayne western.” Steve held up a DVD case showing you which one. It was one of your favourites.
“Tony hasn’t managed to move you past DVD’s yet then?” You joked as you poured milk into a saucepan and set it to simmer.
Steve chuckled. “Yes he has, it’s just Bucky found this while he was out and about and it jogged a memory for him, so he picked it up.”
“Oh, that’s good?” You were unsure how to answer when anything to do with Bucky’s past was raised. The majority of his memories we back, both good and bad, but there were still a few that he missed.
“It’s a good memory (Y/N).” Bucky spoke up. “One of the times me and this punk went to the movies before the war.”
You smiled, and returned your attention to making your drink. You found a pack of mini marshmallows in a cupboard and added a handful of them to the top of you chocolate.
You picked up your drink and moved to the sofa occupied by the two of them. You curled yourself up at one end, propping the arm holding the mug on the arm rest.
The movie started and you watched the familiar titles run on the screen securing your attention to the screen.
You sucked the small marshmallow mountain from the top of your hot chocolate, careful not to choke yourself. You moaned lightly as the taste of the slightly melted sweet met you tongue, not realising the sound had drawn the attention of the two super soldier sat next to you. Their gaze fixated on the white gooeyness left on your lips.
Ignorant of their attention, you darted your tongue out to lick the remnants of marshmallow from around your mouth. The twin groans from beside you snapped your attention from the screen. You looked to your left and saw both Steve and Bucky staring at your mouth. Frowning, you cleared your throat before speaking.
“Something I can help you with boys?”
Looking like they’d been caught with their hands in the cookie jar, they shook their heads and stammered out a negative response.
Smirking slightly, once they had turned back to face the TV, you brought your mug up to take a sip of chocolate. You glanced sideways as an idea formed in your head. You knew you were being a tease, but their previous response triggered something in you.
You took another sip of chocolate, you closed your eyes and let out another moan, this time louder and definitely more pornographic. Sneaking a glance under your eyelids you saw Bucky’s knuckles go white as he clenched his fists in his lap. Steve had buried his face in his hands and was leaning back in his seat, his slightly pinked cheeks visible from either side of his hands. Smiling you went back to watching the movie.
An hour and a half later the movie faded out signalling the end and you sighed as you stood up from your spot. You collected your mug from the table in front of you and strolled into the kitchen area, aware of two sets of eyes following your progress. You rinsed your mug before placing it in the dishwasher. By the time you had returned to the living area, stretching your arms above your head, the two men were facing each other talking in whispered voices. Steve was facing toward you and nudged Bucky when you returned. Bucky’s mouth dropped open slightly at the sight of you stretching. Your arms had pulled your t-shirt up so your mid-rift was visible and forced your chest out giving your audience a good view of your breasts beneath you top.
Lowering your hands back down you noticed both Steve and Bucky shifting in their seats.
“Well I’m off to bed. See you tomorrow.”
“Night (Y/N).”
“Night Doll.”
Your stomach took flight at the nickname. You smiled and turned to leave the room, adding an extra sway to your hips as you walked out.
Once you got to your room you sat on your bed. You were questioning who was more affected by your teasing, yourself or them, when a knock on your door brought you out of your musing. You got up and opened the door. Steve and Bucky stood before you looking nervous.
“What’s the matter?” You asked, worried they were going to call you out about your behaviour earlier.
“Nothing bad Doll,” Bucky began. “We were just wondering if you wanted to watch another movie with us tomorrow night?” | d7bee778d0b4463dac293d35fa86ee71 | ['6901041aaf3d473ca0633058e576fb35'] |
Perfect
You stood on the roof of the compound looking up at the stars. Your team-mates had just returned from a mission and you were waiting for the de-briefing to end. You were so entranced by the lights above you that the feeling of arms circling your waist caught you by surprise.
“What are you doing up here doll?” You smiled at the sound of your boyfriends voice close to you ear.
“Just watching the stars and waiting for you.”
Bucky chuckled and turned you to face him. His smile faded as his gaze took in your pale complexion and the dark shadows under your eyes.
“Y/N, what’s wrong?” He brought his hands up to cup your cheeks. “You look like you haven’t slept for a month.”
You scoffed at the exaggeration. He had only been gone on the mission for a week, the fact of which you reminded him. You knew you looked exhausted. You had caught your reflexion in the bathroom mirror this morning but you were too tired to try putting make up on. You grasped his hands and pulled them from your face.
“I’ve not been well, so no I haven’t slept great this past week.”
Bucky pulled you close, wrapping his arms tightly around you.
“I’m sorry, I shoulda been here to take care of you.”
“Don’t be daft. You were needed on the mission.”
Bucky loosened his embrace so he could look at you again. He smiled as his gaze tracked over your features. “You still look beautiful, you know.”
You snorted but leaned your head against his chest, snuggling back into his embrace. As you stood there your mind wandered to the time you had spent with Bucky over the last year.
******
You had accompanied Steve to Wakanda after he had heard from T’Challa that they were close to removing the Winter Soldier programming from Bucky’s head. Bucky had come out of the procedure a new person. You could see the hints of the old Bucky but he was more subdued, still haunted by the past. Slowly though he began to relax once he realised the procedure really had worked.
The two of you began flirting when Steve was around, each of you trying to see who could make Steve turn red quickest. Soon though you began talking more when you were alone and the flirting carried on into these times. Neither of you had been brave enough to make a move, until you and Steve had been called back for a mission that needed the whole team.
Bucky had come to see you and Steve off. He was looking nervous as he approached you.
“Y/N, I – I was wondering if you err…” Bucky swallowed and looked down at his feet. Just as you were about to ask if he was alright he took a deep breath. “Wouldyaliketogoonadatewithmesometime.”
He looked so worried you stepped forward and took his hand in yours. “I would love to Bucky. Just wished you had asked before I was getting on a jet to leave.”
******
You were brought out of your memories when you heard Bucky start humming. You knew this song. It was your song. His deep voice soon replaced the humming, singing the words into your hair.
"I found a love for me, darling just dive right in, follow my lead.
He began swaying you gently back a forth as he sang.
Well I found a girl beautiful and sweet. I never knew you were the someone waiting for me."
You raised your head from his chest to meet his eyes as he sang. You couldn’t help but smile. He had come so far from the quite, unsure man Steve had brought home six months ago. He laughed and joked more and more each day. He still had bad days, but you handled them together.
"Baby I’m dancing in the dark, with you between my arms,
Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favourite song,
When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath
But you heard it, darling you look perfect tonight."
Bucky span you away from him slowly before pulling you back into him. You stumbled for a moment, nausea kicking in. Bucky frowned but you smiled, not wanting this to end.
“Keep singing, please.”
After a moment’s hesitation Bucky smiled and held you close once again.
"Well I found a woman stronger than anyone I know.
She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I’ll share her home.
You closed your eyes and kept your head on his chest. The nausea was getting worse.
I found a lover to carry more than just my secrets,
To carry love, to carry children of our own."
Bucky span you again. That was it. You ran to the corner of the roof and brought up what little you had managed to eat for dinner.
“Y/N!” Bucky followed and rubbed your back until you were done. “How long have you been like this?”
You grimaced as you wiped your mouth on your sweater sleeve. You rolled your sleeves over to try and cover the area. You looked up at Bucky before you answered. “About a week.”
“Y/N, you’ve got to see a doctor. You shouldn’t have a sickness bug this long.”
Sighing you moved towards the loungers Tony had had put up on the roof. Thankfully on the opposite side to where you currently stood.
“I have seen a doctor. And I never said I had a bug.”
Bucky looked confused. “But…”
You took his hand and dragged him over to the nearest lounger.
“Okay, you had better sit down.”
Bucky sat and pulled you down onto his lap. Once there you buried your face in his neck and mumbled your answer.
“Y/N can you say that again? I’m not sure I heard you right.”
You lifted your head raising your gaze to the stars once more. The pinpricks of light blinked back at you. Taking a deep breath you returned your eyes to Bucky’s.
“I’m pregnant.” |
c9dcf359886244f6baa27f53a6ff1c63 | ['69030a9ec4b34e86a4b63f8816b1aff0'] | "Do you want to talk about them?" Sans asked. I shook my head. "Okay. You don't have to if you don't want to. Just don't close yourself off, alright kiddo? Everyone is worried sick about you. Toriel and Asgore haven't slept in days. You have to take care of yourself, alright?"
One arm released me and reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a paper bag and handed it to me. I shifted, trying to pull away, but Sans only adjusted his grip on me, turning me so that I was facing forward. He placed the paper bag in my lap, holding me firmly between his arms. I opened it reluctantly and saw that there was a wrapped hamburger inside and some french fries from Grillby's.
"You have to eat, Frisk. Starving yourself isn't going to help anything." I sighed and reluctantly pulled out the hamburger. My stomach twisted and I felt suddenly nauseous looking at the food. "I know you might not want to eat, but you have to. I even got extra pickles for you."
I finally looked at him. He winked at me, and there was a very gentle smile on his face. I felt new tears spring to my eyes and turned back to my food.
I unwrapped the burger, and took a bite. As soon as the taste hit me my nausea faded, and my stomach grumbled. I was finally aware of just how _hungry_ I was. I ate the hamburger quickly. I felt Sans chuckle as he watched me. One hand still held me firmly to him, the other he lifted and began to run his fingers gently through my hair while I munched at my french fries.
When the bag was empty, I set it to the side. My hunger had been somewhat sated.
"Feelin' better?" Sans asked. I nodded and turned towards him, hugging him tightly. His arms wrapped around me.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"Of course, kiddo," Sans said, squeezing me. Eventually, his arms released me and I pulled back. One hand firmly grabbed my chin, raising my face to look at him.
"Next time you have a nightmare, you tell me right away, understand? It doesn't matter how late it is, or anything, you call me." I smiled and nodded.
"Okay," I said.
"Promise me," Sans demanded. He still hadn't released my chin. I raised my hand, crossing it over my heart. That seemed to satisfy him and he let me go. With my hunger curbed and the numbness gone, I was beginning to feel very sleepy, and my eyes drooped.
Sans chuckled. "You can sleep, Frisk. I'm not going anywhere, I promise."
Sans laid me down, pulling a pillow over and plopping it on his lap, where I gently rested my head. His fingers stroked gently through my hair as sleep over took me. It was a peaceful sleep.
I slept clear to noon the next day. When I finally woke, Sans had fallen asleep against the wall. I slowly sat up, rubbing the last of the sleepiness from my eyes.
Sans stirred and opened his eyes. He smiled widely when he saw me awake and I smiled hesitantly back.
"Mornin' kiddo, sleep well?" he asked. I nodded and he mussed my hair. I pouted and pulled away while he laughed and sat up more fully, pulling the blanket off himself.
I stretched and slowly stood up. My stomach grumbled loudly and Sans eyed me.
"Hungry?"
I blushed and nodded.
"Think you're ready to go out?" he asked gently. I turned and looked at the door warily.
"They're all still here?" I asked.
"Of course," he replied as though it were obvious. "Not a single one of us was gonna leave until we knew you were alright."
I took a deep breath, watching the door, steeling myself. Sans stood up and gently took my hand.
"I'm right here, kiddo," he said reassuringly. "If you need to leave just squeeze my fingers and I'll getcha out of there."
I took another deep breath before slowly walking to the door, Sans right by my side. I opened it and crept into the hallway. I peered into the sitting room and saw everyone sitting around the room. Toriel was in her reading chair, head down with a book open in her lap, though I doubted she was reading it. Asgore had moved a chair over to sit beside her, one hand in hers. Undyne and Alphys were paired together on one end of the couch, Papyrus and Mettaton, who had grown quite close over the past few years, on the other. The TV was on, the volume so low you couldn't even really hear the show. They all stared blankly at the screen. There was so much concern and worry on their faces, it twisted my heart.
Sans squeezed my fingers and I squeezed them back, then walked slowly into the sitting room.
Toriel's head raised slowly, and then she shot to her feet when she saw it was me, Asgore quickly following her.
"My child!" she exclaimed, rushing forward, Asgore on her heels.
The rest of my friends looked at us from around the couch and quickly stood as well.
Toriel stopped in front of me, not wanting to get too close.
"My child, how are you feeling?" she asked gently.
I gave her a reassuring smile. "I'm alright, Mom." I let go of Sans' hand and rushed forward, wrapping her in a tight hug. She quickly lifted me off my feet in a tight hug, a sigh of relief escaping her. Asgore hugged us both tightly. I could hear a collective sigh of relief from everyone in the room. | ebebfa78005143f38ef3e7dd4feae7ca | ['69030a9ec4b34e86a4b63f8816b1aff0'] | Alphys smiled kindly, and settled back, ready for a long conversation. "I felt warm and fuzzy whenever I was with her. I felt bubbly and light and she seemed to make all the bad stuff just melt away. My stomach would be in a flutter whenever I was with her, and everything felt so much more. . . more. It felt like I was so much more aware of everything when I was with her. Her presence, her touch. It was both wonderful and terribly nerve wracking at the same time. I wanted to spend every minute with her, I wanted to share everything with her, even when I told myself I couldn't. I trusted her more than anyone else. She was my best friend, and she was always so much more."
Alphys' nerves seemed to just wash away as she talked, and she looked wistfully ahead as she recalled the beginning of their relationship. I looked down to my twined fingers, contemplating. What she was talking about certainly sounded. . . familiar. She looked up and saw the way my brows had drawn together in thought as I looked down, and she placed a hand softly over mine.
"Are you having feelings like this about anyone, Frisk?" she asked gently.
"Well. . . maybe," I answered meekly, shrugging my shoulders as the blush rose to my cheeks.
"Well, it's not abnormal for you to have a crush," she said softly. "Honestly, I think it's adorable, and probably long over-do," she paused. "But do you think you have more than a crush?"
"I-I'm not sure," I still didn't look up at her. I felt far too embarrassed to meet her eyes.
"Well, how much of what I described seemed familiar to you?"
"A lot of it," I paused. "Maybe all of it," I answered honestly, much more quietly.
"How strongly do you think you feel?" she asked, eyes watching my face, not at all judgmental, but rather showing an almost big sisterly caring.
"I don't know," I answered, the words coming out almost indecipherably.
"Do you wanna try and tell me how you feel? I might be able to help," she offered, squeezing my hands in a comforting manner.
"Well, I feel like I'm going insane, for one thing. I can't stop thinking about them, I. . . I dream about them all the time," I whispered, the blush coming to my cheeks with a vengeance. Alphys squeezed my hands again. "I feel so flustered whenever I'm around them. Like I can't breath, and my heart starts to beat so fast I feel like it'll stop. I feel so aware of whenever they're close, and it feels like my skin is burning whenever they touch me, and it leaves me feeling super sensitive and tingly. I want to be with them all the time. . . I just. . . it's driving me crazy." I finished with a huff, finally looking up at her. Her eyes were practically sparkling.
"Oh my gosh, Frisk, I think you might be in love!" she squealed happily, tapping her feet in excitement.
"Love? Like in love in love?"
"Yeah, I mean, what else did you think it could be? Oh this is so cute! Is it someone I know?"
"Well, I don't go on the surface often enough for it to be anyone from up there," I gave the honest answer quickly.
"Oh so it is someone I know! Can I take a guess?" she asked, excited.
"No, because I don't want to lie if you're right, and you'll just keep guessing until you are," I laughed, knowing her.
"Well, alright, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," she said, somewhat disappointed but completely serious.
"Thanks, I. . . kinda need to come to terms with this anyway. How. . . can a monster and a human even. . . you know. . . be together?" I asked slowly, unsure.
"Well, of course, there's no rule saying you can't, it's just never happened before. Or at least, not in a very long time. Not since before the barrier came up, and no one has ever mentioned anything like that before. I don't think there's anyone alive who would remember a time like that. But, it's entirely possible. Oh, I know!" she leaped from the bed excitedly, and rushed over to her bookcase, running her fingers over their spines as she read the titles before slipping one off the shelf and handing it to me.
It was a book on, _oh geez_ , monster relations. How _all of that_ worked.
"This should give you a good idea without having to have an awkward conversation," she explained. "Everything you need to know about love. . . and well. . . reproduction. . . is in that. It should help ease some of your curiosity."
"Hey, Alphys," I asked, twining my fingers together nervously.
"Yes Frisk?"
"Do you think a monster could love a human?"
"Well, we all love you Frisk. I don't think there's a monster in the Underground who doesn't."
"I mean. . . love- love a human," I clarified, wringing my hands nervously.
She settled down next to me again, and when she spoke her voice was quiet and serious. "Yes, Frisk. A monster definitely could. And likely would. Or does. Love has nothing to do with species, it doesn't matter if you're monster or human, it matters who you are to them. Any person would be lucky to have you. Have you tried telling this mysterious person how you feel?"
"No, definitely not," I shook my head to reiterate the point.
"Well, maybe you should."
I bit my lip nervously. "I don't know if that's a good idea."
"Why?" |
09028cf1eb4f423b8396b122964cfc77 | ['692a8650bd30449e938dcb751f1e32cc'] | “I dunno, I wanted to see what would happen.” She shrugged.
“It’s fire and flammable liquid, what do you think will happen?” She asked.
“Well, I don’t know. Water puts fires out, but it made you erupt into welts. So…?” Sophie pretended to weigh ideas.
“Oh yeah… Good point.” Emma shrugged and turned around.
“Sorry, love, you can find out what happens some other time. We need to leave.” He snatched her up into his arms and was off.
Emma tucked her face into Klaus’s neck as he raced through the streets of New Orleans. The speed actually made her a bit sick. She stumbled on her feet when he set her-nearly dropped her- on the ground before rushing up to a suite clad man.
Emma rushed over to Marcel to check his health when Klaus was thrown into a case of glasses. The man seemed to ignore her for the moment as they talked. Marcel was barely conscious, due to whatever the witch man did to him. He muttered out the name ‘Cami’ while his head lolled about.
Looking up, she watched as Klaus was thrown across the room into a wall. Growling, she stood up and raised a wall of fire between the witch and Klaus. The man stumbled back in surprise at the new protection.
“My, my. Who might you be?” In an instant he had her pinned against the wall by her throat. He stopped her when she went to answer. “You’re a cursed one. I feel so much power flowing through your veins, but I feel the corruption as well.” He commented.
“Yeah, well this five foot, three bottle of corruption is about to kill your witch ass.” She growled.
In a moment he ripped his hand away from her neck as she had burned him. She took the chance to roundhouse kick him in the chest. He simply fell to the ground and grabbed a chair to throw at her.
Hitting her square in the face, she stumbled back but quickly regained her posture and charged him. She tackled him to the ground and ripped wildly at his chest with newly welcomed claws. Though he simply wasn’t having that, he grabbed her head and began uttering a spell.
“Oh, no you don’t, you sacrificial bastard!” She ducked down and bit his shoulder.
He yelled in pain and kicked her in the chest throwing her away into the wall. She jumped up and rushed him again. She full on trucked to the floor again and without giving him time to react, she grabbed the sides of his head and started slamming it into the ground. Blood slowly puddled on the floor under his head, but Emma kept going.
The only thing on her mind was making him a bloody mess on the ground.
Though he had different plans. He grabbed a wooden leg from a chair and stabbed her through the thigh with it. Momentarily distracted by the slight pain in her limb she gave him ample time to toss her across the floor.
She tumbled across the floor and into another case of glass, making it fall over on her. Growling, she attempted to pushed herself up but realized the case needed to go before she could get up.
“Oh my god, Emma!” Camille gasped flipping the case off of the girl. “Are you alri-ah!” She screamed when Emma tackled her, snarling.
Emma wasn’t Emma. One of her brown eyes was now a vibrant orange and red, as if the flames of hell where encased in them. Camille could see her natural brown around the edge on the orange eye, but that didn’t ease her fear.
Suddenly, Klaus had her pinned her against the wall. He was surprised to see that she growled at him as well. He forced her to the wall, ignoring the burning of her wrists in his palms.
“Emma!” He snapped, only earning a growl. “Look at me Emma. Come on, love, come back to me.” He tried. “How the hell am I supposed to tell Aiden I broke you.” He grumbled to himself before noticing the flash of brown in her eyes.
“Aiden?” He said again. Her growling ceased. “Aiden. A fifteen year old boy. Had a crush on our poor friend Davina.” Another flash. “Davina, A lovely little witch. Very helpful.” He decided to leave out her death. “Uh, Rebekah, you two seem cozy. You met her Along with Hayley, I believe.” Finally Emma’s eyes were completely brown again.
As soon as the brown returned to her eyes her body slumped forwards. She groaned falling into Klaus’s arms. He hushed her as he head fell to his chest, she looked over at Marcel, drinking from Camille and for a moment, she was concerned, but she couldn’t bring herself to voice her thoughts when she realized how much pain she was in.
“Oh my hell!” She gasped as the pain of everything washed over her. “K-Klaus, get the damn leg out of of _ my _ leg!” She begged.
“Alright, calm down, love.” He grasped the the wood and held her tightly before yanking it out. “I’m sorry, darling.” He winced at her scream of pain.
“It’s o...kay…” She mumbled before falling limp in his arms.
Emma shot up out of her bed gasping for air. “Woah, there!” Emma jumped and looked to her side to find Aiden. “Relax.”
“Ugh, I feel like I just got hit by a truck.” She groaned, laying back down.
“Well, from what Klaus explained today, it sounds like you could’ve taken on a truck.” Aiden laughed. “You also almost killed a woman named Camille.” He added slowly.
“Camille… The girl Marcel tried to go out with?” She questioned herself.
“She’s a bartender and an almost acquaintance of Klaus and Marcel. Klaus said she pulled you from under a glass case and you attacked her.” Aiden said.
“Damn... “ She muttered.
“Yeah, but Klaus calmed you down.” Aiden said, yawning. | ac4bdc9a524b46bb83b07d6b46e4b9bb | ['692a8650bd30449e938dcb751f1e32cc'] | “Love, I do believe it is the only way.” Klaus nodded avoiding her sad eyes.
“No way!” Marcel yelled coming out of her room. “You’re not touching her!” He leaped over the railing and charged over to Klaus, taking less than a moment to deck him in the jaw.
Klaus stumbled back, but was ready to come back at full force. “I’ll let you have that one.”
Emma jumped up and stepped in front of Klaus, her hands on his chest. “Wait, wait! He’s upset, it’s alright.”
Klaus only pressed on trying to move past her. “Klaus!” She grabbed his face and tilted his head down so their eye would meet. “Relax!” The anger washed out of his eyes slowly at the feeling of her warm palms.
“Now, Marcel, no one wishes to see Dacina come to harm less than I,” Elijah started.
“I beg to differ.” Klaus said as Emma dropped her hands. “The little warrior seems pretty protective of the witch.” He grabbed Emma around the waist and pulled her into him, her back to his chest.
Elijah looked over at Klaus unamused. “But, there is no scenario here in which we wait this out. She will die.” Elijah finished his statement.
“Yeah, according to the witch who screwed over everyone here.” Marcel narrowed his eyes.
“The Harvest was working before it was stopped. If a non believer like Sophie Deveraux can come to have faith in these girls will be resurrected then I, too, am a believer.” Elijah said.
Marcel stepped past Elijah and stormed over to Klaus and Emma. “I saved Davina from the Harvest,” He stepped into Klaus’s face. “Now you expect me to just hand her over?”
“Do you think I’m happy about this? Sacrificing Davina will destroy the little warrior up there!” Klaus snapped. “Also it restores the witches power and we lose our weapons against them.” He added quickly.
“If Davina is not sacrificed, then every inch of the earth that shook, everywhere her winds are touching, will soon be flooded with water and consumed by flames.” Klaus said.
“Oh, so now you care about the city?” Marcel yelled.
“We ought to, we built it.” Elijah said. “And we watched it burn to the ground twice.”
“And I will not allow that to happen again.” Klaus said. “Do I make myself clear?”
Marcel glared at the Original. “Yeah… Yeah.” He muttered before turning to walk away.
After a moment of silence Elijah said something about going to pay respect to his soon to be concentrated ex. He invited Klaus to join him on the trip, seeing as he needed to warn a few people anyway. Hayley walked in and attempted to grab Elijah’s attention only to be brushed off.
Emma felt a pang of sadness hit her in the chest making her wince. She watched as the pregnant wolf left the room, rejected. Klaus’s arms tightened around her and he dropped his head into her neck.
“This is going to kill him…” Klaus murmured.
“I know…”
“Emma!” Someone shook her. “Emma get up!”
Emma’s eyes snapped open and she jerked up, her forehead clicking with Rebekah’s.
“Ow… What? What’s wrong?” Emma grumbled.
“Marcel took Davina.” Rebekah said.
“Honestly did we expect anything different?” Emma asked rubbing her eye.
“No, but Aiden’s missing as well.” Klaus sneered stepping into her room.
“What?” Emma started to get out of the bed.
“And to think, you wanted to run away and start a life with this traitor.” Klaus snapped at Rebekah.
“Says the man who was shacking up with him not two seconds before this all went down!” Rebekah bit back.
“Actually, he struck me before all of his funny business. So, I wouldn’t say we are the best of friends.” Klaus said.
“Hmm, finally someone’s done it.” She huffed.
“Shut up, you two!” Emma yelled. “AIden and Davina are out there, somewhere, and ow-shit.” Emma grabbed her chest.
“Alright, relax, love. Let’s not have a heart attack, now.” Klaus steadied her.
“No, it’s my chest hurts, like I’m unbelievably sad.” Emma ran her fingers through her hair. “Hayley’s upset. Fucking Elijah.” She growled out leaving the other two confused.
“Care to elaborate?” Rebekah asked.
“Just I feel like someone like someone is upset, and my head is telling me it’s Hayley.” Emma shook her head. “You two start looking, I’m going to check on mama wolf and then I’ll head out.” Emma didn’t leave room for arguing as she rushed out of the room.
She jogged about, looking for Hayley. Emma ignored the pang in her chest and continued looking, becoming relieved when she found her. She was stocking crates with cans and crying. Emma sighed and walked up to her, her footsteps alerting the werewolf of her presence.
“H-hey, Emma.” Hayley said weakly.
“What are you doing?” Emma sighed.
“I was going to take these to the Bayou.” Hayley started.
“No, why are you crying?” Emma asked. “He’s just a little upset, mama wolf.”
“I went behind his back for a selfish reason.” Hayley choked out.
“It wasn’t selfish. I would’ve done the same thing, it’s okay.” Emma grabbed her face and started to wipe her tears. “Now can you stop crying for me, yeah?”
Hayley nodded and sniffed, Emma smiled and nodded back. Emma grabbed a crate of cans while Hayley grabbed the other. Emma and Hayley made their way to church, the wind nearly blowing them over several times.
“Hurry!” Emma laughed pushing open the door. “Go, Hayley.”
“I’m trying!” Hayley grinned. “I’m pregnant give me a second.”
“Well, what do we have here?” A british voice asked amused; Klaus.
“Um, I’m not entirely sure, I can’t see anything but hair.” Emma giggled.
“Let me help you with that then.” Suddenly the crate was taken out of her hands.
“Thank you.” She started to move the tangled mess from her face.
Klaus helped her move her hair after he had put the cans down. “Of course, my love.” |
5735505b197b48c9b492ba4fb785ec67 | ['6934f1343ad047759b9502aaa936d87e'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> Some parts will be long, some will be short, depending on how it flows with the story. And there will be lots of time skips and maybe some eventual smut. Thoughts are italicized.
It was hard to feel the painful pangs of loneliness when you could hear the thoughts of everyone around you.
You had no idea how or why you were able to read the minds of others, and by the time you were a teenager, you had learned to stop questioning it. Being tossed from one foster family to another was enough to teach you to keep your mouth shut in order to avoid being labeled as “crazy”. No one ever believed you. No one ever tried to help you. That was when you realized that if you were to get by in this world, you were going to have to do it alone. You made your peace with that a long time ago.
Even still, a girl had to make money somehow. Being a barista in a small-town café was no one’s dream job, but hey, it paid the rent. And being constantly surrounded by people helped you learn how to dull your abilities a little bit. On most days, you didn’t hear the voices as loud and clear in your head as you used to. Instead, the endless chatter became background noise in your head. Some voices were louder than others, and sometimes you couldn’t help but react to what people were thinking.
It was a normal day at work when your life changed forever. You had just started your late-night shift and you decided to make rounds thorough the café with a fresh pot of coffee, topping off anyone who needed it. You grinned and made obligatory small talk for tips, reading the customers’ minds in order to choose conversation topics and eventually made your way to the last booth where two men were seated.
“Hi there,” you started. “Would either of you like a refill?”
The taller of the two smiled up at you. “Yes, please. That would be great.”
He was handsome, you noted as he generously pulled out a couple of bills for you. The muscular build and shaggy hair made him seem intimidating, but his kind eyes and dimples softened his demeanor. You were about to turn to face the other man when you heard his thoughts in your head.
_Woah, didn’t I just watch a porn video that started out exactly like this?_ he asked himself. _Maybe today’s my lucky day, this girl looks like she knows how to have a good time._
The remark caught you off guard, so much so that you couldn’t help but react.
“Excuse me?” you snapped at him angrily. There was nothing that you hated more than sleazy men who treated women like crap.
“Uh, I didn’t say anything,” the man said, “but I’d really appreciate a refill too if that’s alright.”
This man was handsome too, with piercing green eyes, pouty lips and a jawline to kill for. But all of that meant nothing to you if the guy was a douche. Of course, one random thought was nothing to go on, so you decided to drop it as you poured him his coffee. The men thanked you and you turned to walk away. Just then, you heard another of the green-eyed man’s thoughts.
_Well, her chest could use some work but that ass is pretty nice. Definitely a 7 out of 10._
“Are you kidding me?!” you yelled. You slammed the coffee pot down in front of the now startled man before you continued. “What, do you think that because you’re an attractive man you can just go around rating women’s body parts? I’m so sorry if my chest isn’t as big as my ass!” you scoffed sarcastically.
The taller man stared at you with wide eyes and a highly amused expression. Clearly, he was trying very hard to contain his laughter. His friend, on the other hand, hadn’t even tried to defend himself and just sat there silently; as did the rest of the people in the establishment.
“I am so sick and tired of pigs like you who think that women exist for your entertainment. Newsflash, we don’t! So you’d better learn some damn respect.”
The man lowered his gaze to the tabletop in front of him and nodded twice before mumbling an apology, but you were too angry to listen to both his voice and his thoughts.
“Y/N!” your boss interjected suddenly. “My office. NOW.”
And that was how you got fired from the café.
2. Chapter 2
**_\- Ten Minutes Later -_ **
You were walking home, more like storming off, when someone grabbed you from behind and hauled you into a dark alleyway. The man reeked of rotten eggs, and the hand clamped over your mouth tasted disgusting. You tried to break free of the iron grip, but it was no use. He was inhumanly strong; you knew he was already leaving bruises on your skin. Then, he pinned you against the brick wall and looked you up and down.
“So, you’re the one who the feather heads have been chattering about?” he sneered in your face. “You don’t seem very special to me. But hey, if you’re on the radar, then there must be a good asking price for this pretty head of yours.”
Nothing the man said made any sense to you. You struggled to move or even make a sound, but you were helpless. For some reason, you couldn’t even read your attacker’s mind. If you weren’t so terrified, it would have struck you as very odd. | fd0b036d82544b32ad99b82255bdd460 | ['6934f1343ad047759b9502aaa936d87e'] |
Save the Last Dance
Sweat beaded along your brow and your breath came out in heavy pants as you moved your body to the pulsing beat of the music. The masquerade ball was in full swing, and you were having a surprisingly great time. Your friends practically had to force you into the proper attire – a gown, mask, and heels - and drag you to the party just hours before. But by the end of the night, you were glad that you had relented. It was nice to have a fun night out for once.
As a lively, Spanish song came to a close, the DJ announced that he would be playing the last song for the evening. You were ready to rejoin your circle of friends, until the opening notes started and you halted in your tracks. It was a love song. A slow, beautiful love song; one you had heard many times before. Almost a whole lifetime ago.
**I could stay awake just to hear you breathing**
**Watch you smile while you are sleeping**
**While you’re far away and dreaming**
**I could spend my life in this sweet surrender**
**I could stay lost in this moment forever**
**Well, every moment spent with you**
**Is a moment I treasure**
You eased yourself into an empty seat, watching solemnly as your friends and the rest of the masquerade guests paired off into couples. After a few seconds, you veered your eyes away, adamantly focusing on the uninspired pattern of the tablecloth at your table. Then, out of nowhere, the fine hairs on the back of your neck stood to attention, alerting you to the fact that you were being watched. You slowly turned around, and spotted a tall man striding towards you. He was dressed like every other man at the ball – a black suit with a black mask. The difference was that this man seemed to only have eyes for you.
**I don’t wanna close my eyes**
**I don’t wanna fall asleep**
**‘Cause I’d miss you, baby**
**And I don’t wanna miss a thing**
**'Cause even when I dream of you**
**The sweetest dream will never do**
**I’d still miss you, baby**
**And I don’t wanna miss a thing**
Without a word, the man held out a hand, silently asking for a dance. You obliged without hesitation. As he led you to the edge of the packed dance floor, your heart pounded away, and butterflies rampaged in your stomach. The man didn’t seem to notice your reaction to him. Instead, he turned you towards him, and pulled you close to his body. A calming warmth rolled off of him in waves, and his fresh, masculine scent wafted around you. When you finally dared to look him in the eye, he held your gaze, just as steadily as his hands clasped your own hand and rested at your lower back. The both of you moved slowly then, swaying to the romantic rhythm of the song.
He then shifted his arms, wrapping them both around your waist, and pulling you flush against his chest. His heartbeat was just as erratic as your own.
**Lying close to you**
**Feeling your heart beating**
**And I’m wondering what you’re dreaming**
**Wondering if it’s me you’re seeing**
**Then I kiss your eyes and thank God we’re together**
**And I just wanna stay with you**
**In this moment forever, forever and ever**
**I don’t wanna close my eyes**
**I don’t wanna fall asleep**
**'Cause I’d miss you, baby**
**And I don’t wanna miss a thing**
**'Cause even when I dream of you**
**The sweetest dream will never do**
**I’d still miss you, baby**
**And I don’t wanna miss a thing**
The lyrics and the intensity of the moment brought tears to your eyes, yet you were unable to move your arms from around the man’s neck in order to swipe them away. You hoped he wouldn’t notice, but when his jaw tightened and his green eyes grew sad, you knew you had been caught. Silently, the man loosened his hold on you, taking only your hand once again, and took you to a secluded corner outside of the ballroom. He gently braced you against the wall, and swallowed thickly, as if he had no idea what to say. You understood the feeling – there were no words powerful enough for such a moment.
Instead, he slowly slid your lace mask up, revealing your face as he rested it on the top of your head. He continued to watch you carefully, tracing his eyes over every one of your features. A touchless caress.
**I don’t wanna miss one smile**
**I don’t wanna miss one kiss**
**Well, I just wanna be with you**
**Right here with you, just like this**
**I just wanna hold you close**
**Feel your heart so close to mine**
**And just stay here in this moment**
**For all the rest of time**
“You requested this song, didn’t you?” you asked him in a whisper. You didn’t even need to ask; the answer was obvious.
The man lifted both hands to your face, and softly brushed away the tears that had escaped both eyes, undoubtedly ruining your makeup. Without meaning to, your mind jumped to a telephone conversation from over a month ago.
> _“I miss you so much, Dean.”_
>
> _“I know Y/N, believe me, I know. But as long as that demon is out there, its too dangerous for us to be together. I can’t put you at risk like that again. If this is what keeps you safe, then so be it.”_
>
> _“We’ve been apart for eleven months, Dean. When will this be over?”_
>
> _“I don’t know. I’m so sorry, baby. But I can’t answer that. Not yet.”_ |
b8524fee562543bb979a34506ba261d9 | ['693ac1ecdadd4d069a242cb13abe90b2'] | You don’t speak as your ancestor brings you into his respite block at the end of the hall. You’ve learned that unless you turn yourself into a direct copy of him, you will never hear the end of it. The door closes behind you, and you hear your ancestor speak about how misbehaved and ungrateful you are. You shrug it off. As long as he doesn’t say anything else about your passed moirail. Your ancestor turns to you and he’s already pulling your vest and gloves off, and you’re trying to move in just the right way to make the removing of clothes become a little easier. You had a feeling this would happen after he pailed you earlier. Usually when he was incredibly happy, or incredibly upset, this happened. You stopped caring that it happened in the first place, a long time ago.
He has you shirtless and he’s already removing your shoes and pants, leaving you almost entirely naked. Pailing with him has become routine now. You don’t really notice how his tongue is running up from your nook, over your steadily unsheathed bulge, over your stomach and chest, towards your neck and face. You hardly pay attention to your mouth catching his, two tongues twisting together, light purple saliva dripping from both of your lips, dribbling on to your chest. He’s pulled you closer, pulling you to a large couch in the room. You’re tugged on to his lap, he’s inside you in a matter of seconds. You only manage a small grunting sound. He’s been inside you so many times that it doesn’t feel the same. It’s not fun anymore.
What was fun, was when you and your moirail broke the rules.
You were getting close to eight sweeps when you and your moirail were chilling together. You’d indulged on a little more sopor slime than necessary, and you’d managed to convince you that just a tiny little taste of it wouldn’t kill him. Just enough to give him that fuzzy, heavy headed euphoria that you enjoyed so much. He was cute on sopor. He actually was returning each of your cuddles and embraces, and even had gone as far as demonstrating some affection himself, with playful little cheek kisses and nuzzling. It was comfortable, and you realized that this time together was probably the best of all the times you shared. Both of you had lost just enough inhibitions to be totally honest with one another, and totally opened.
So when you mentioned thinking that your moirail was pretty attractive, he took it as more than a compliment. He wiped some of your makeup from your face. Not a ton, but just a little bit around your lips. He commented that when you took the grease paint from your skin, you had a nice face too. It’s a nice little exchange of compliments, and you couldn’t help but put your hand on his face and rub lightly before he makes a move. He kisses you. It’s a quick, childish gesture that leads to him pulling back, with a self-depreciating comment. He calls himself stupid. Ugly. You tell him to shut his mouth because you’ve got yourself a motherfucking gorgeous best friend.
He likes hearing you say that and he asks a question that you’re pretty sure he’s expecting to hear a “no” to. He asks if you and he could have yourself a bit of sloppy makeouts. You answer quickly. It’s a yes. It’s a hell motherfucking yes. You’ve always found your best bro to be pretty attractive, and—well naturally you don’t remember much more. Just the feeling of two tongues rubbing together, two bodies pretty a little closer than they should be. You remember your moirail breaking apart, and in a dizzy haze, asking if it’s okay for moirails to do this.
You don’t have a problem with it. You’re moirails. If you both want it, no harm done. It’s not like either of you had a matesprit or a kismesis at the moment to worry about. You figure that there’s no problem with two pale-bros twisting the old bulge together. What bad could come from it?
As far as you were concerned, nothing bad did come from it.
Your ancestor finishes shortly after you do, and there’s another pail collecting material. You’re not sure why he’s somehow become so invested in collecting your material. He never had been before, and now, that’s all he seems to want to do when he gets you undressed. Once the deed is done, the pail is carried away, leaving you to retrieve your scattered clothing. You ask him what the deal is. He just looks at you, his lips pulled into a smile.
He tells you that it’s about time you learned some lessons.
3. Chapter 3
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Trigger Warning: Underage
> Also, headcanoning that there's no actual age of consent in Alternia due to the concept of pailing being absolutely necessary, so there would be no need to discourage sexual relations.
You were seven when your ancestor decided to take you for the first time.
You had still been living with your lusus. Or rather, you had still been living in the hive your lusus had left you to maintain while he went about with his own business and left you to your own devices. Your ancestor arrived on one of his regular checkups on you, wanting to see what sort of life you lived outside of his watchful presence. You had made a point of busting every nerve in your ass to clean the place up of anything that he might not approve of. Usually, when you were strung out on baked sopor, you cared little about what stood out. But when it came to an ancestor who was responsible for dictating your entire future, and more importantly whether you lived or died, you needed to keep up appearances. | d728f15c84b74695b4db34a10ec8d2b9 | ['693ac1ecdadd4d069a242cb13abe90b2'] | What you endured upon returning back to your chamber after your fling with your moirail was a very similar situation, except you hadn’t snuck out. Your ancestor had given you his permission to spend time with your moirail, as long as you returned by a certain time. So upon entering your quarters, you turned to find yourself face to face with your ancestor, sitting on the ground, his eyes narrowed, as if you had wronged him in some way.
You greeted him quietly with a low “Hey man.” as you started to make your way to your own block, only for your ancestor to grab your leg as you began to walk past him. He did not look up at you right away, but you felt his eyes as they began to glance in your direction.
“You stink of pailing.” he said lowly, giving your leg a tug, making you stumble forward, causing you to fall, using your hands to break your fall upon landing. “I thought you had a moirail, not a matesprit.”
“Yeah, and ain’t it common for moirails to get their bang on ‘ccasionally?” you grunted to him as you composed yourself and got back to your feet, standing at attention in case your ancestor demanded some sort of obedience from you.
“Pale fucks do not smell the same way as red fucks.” he snarled as he got to his feet, showing off his size, making you glad you stood at attention before he rose. “Are you vacillating with the little mutant shit?”
You considered it a moment, as you gazed upwards at your ancestor. The way his mane of hair fanned out over his shoulders and back almost gave him the appearance of an infuriated pouncebeast, but you would never say that to him.
“Thinkin’ it was a one time thing, brother.” you responded to him, arms remaining firm at your side, despite wanting to grasp the doorknob behind you and vanish into your block for the remainder of the evening.
“See to it that it is.” he snorted as he turned his back to you, going back to his seated position. “If you were being a life saver for the freak, see to it that this is the only time. The next time the drones come, let them cull the abomination. He is not your responsibility.”
You nod to him, not willing to continue the conversation, as you grasp the doorknob and slip into your block for a much needed reprieve.
Even if your ancestor insisted that you were not responsible for Karkat.
You felt that you were. Just as Karkat was responsible for you.
And that’s how it would remain, up until the day he died.
9. Chapter 9
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Attention: I am considering changing the name of this fic. When I first made it as a one shot, Leash was an appropriate title, but I am not so sure anymore. Should I change it to something more appropriate? (I was thinking of calling it Family Matters) Or should I keep the name since after all...this is Chapter 9.
>
> Also warning for dubcon in this chapter.
Kurloz lays you down on the softness that is his pile, composed of voodoo dolls, and decorative pillows. He sees to it that you’re comfortable as he draws his hand over your cheek and lowers it to your chest, bare and adorned with several scars, of battles you don’t quite remember. Kurloz seems completely pleased to watch your fingers curl around the dangling trim of one of the throw pillows, while he spreads apart your legs, and settles himself between them. An arm slides under your thigh, scooping you up into an elevated position as he leans forward, kissing along your stomach while fingers from a formerly unoccupied hand travel up along your hip bones, flesh trickling to life with each stroke. You’re undressed. So is he.
And so there is a pail, placed at the bottom of the pile.
Kurloz’s hands pull from you and grasp your hands away from the pillows, tangling the joints tightly as he holds on to you. It’s just a tiny bit of leverage, and that’s all he needs to help him thrust into you. Your body arches neatly into place on the pile as you grunt out in surprise. Kurloz is not as large as your ancestor, but he certainly handles himself as if he was. He whispers to you, shooshing, and kissing along your neck as he remains buried in you.
“Need you,” he purrs softly, holding his weight against you as his bulge thrashes in your nook. “Need you, bad.” There’s the faintest flicker of a grunt in his voice as his hips roll forward, breath caught in his throat as he holds his position. He feels it, and you feel it too--the tip of his bulge has pushed itself into forbidden territory. Not so much forbidden actually, as old. It’s a part of a trolls body that generally...trolls used to use for reproduction. A long time ago, before a mother grub was introduced to make gestation periods shorter, trolls made their own young. There was something known as “parents” to young grubs, and they would be cared for by the ones who laid their eggs. But few trolls ever reproduce that way anymore. Mostly highbloods. Higher than you. |
ac9a7b7868074131aedba9d78ba046b2 | ['695680ec303d45fe9f97401167f6e0e3'] | And it's terrifying and comforting, and millions of other adjectives that her mind couldn't possibly think of because-
It's.
Derek.
_Derek._
*
It's been nine freaking months and Amelia can breathe.
But only just.
(Because breathing doesn't actually mean living. Derek would know)
2. Meredith
"You're going to need someone."
A smirk. Odd look like the words went unheard.
"I know you heard me. There's really no use in pretending, Mer. Tonight, you'll need someone."
A glare, across the dark shadows that haphazardly fill the living room.
A snapped, bitter reply, the swing of a bottle.
"And what makes you think that it's you?"
" Because I'm the only one who gets it."
*
One year.
Twelve months.
Three hundred and sixty five days.
Eight thousand seven hundred and sixty hours.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes.
Thirty-one million, five hundred and thirty-six thousand fucking seconds.
And three months since she's been back.
She hates it.
Hates him for dying.
Hates herself.
Hates the universe.
Hate and carnage is what brought all of them together.
It's fitting that hate and carnage would be the thing to drive them apart.
*
She cradles the bottle in her palm, enjoying the cold of the glass against her clammy skin.
Flames on ice.
Black skies.
Clear liquor.
Flames.
Ice.
Post-It lies.
She can still feel the soft, nearly pitiful gaze that stares into her soul, stares at her with knowing eyes. Knowing pain.
It burns a flame, a fueled fire that makes her burst into unearthing rage.
Hot skin. Cold glass. Hot and cold. Cold and hot. Hot and cold.
"Leave me alone."
Cold glass.
Grey sleet.
Black skies.
Post-It Notes. (Lies)
"Just go the fuck away."
*
Silence. It's been this same silence for the past hour. It's been silence, and screams and knowing looks.
The sound of silence screams in her head.
Screams and screams and screams.
And silence.
*
It's three in the morning.
Somewhere in the house, she can hear Alex's soft snores.
Alex who had settled on alternating between his apartment and her house.
Alex who juggled angry girlfriends and three kids that weren't his own based on a promise to a ghost of the past.
Maggie typing on her computer.
Maggie who always made sure that she did everything she could to help ensure kids were ready and fed.
Maggie who always made sure that the liquor was a little farther than usual, just in case.
Amelia's slow sips of ginger-ale.
Amelia who had never directly spoken to her since she had came back.
Amelia who had helped out the most but never really looked her in the eye.
"You'll keep drinking for the next hour. See how many shots you can down until it hits four,"
A light voice, barely a whisper in the air.
"Then Ellis will wake up, Or you'll hear Zola stir. Or maybe, just maybe, your eye will catch on that stupid fucking blanket. The picture at the end of the hall. "
She stops, lets the words hang between them.
Meredith isn't really sure how to respond to the situation, doesn't know how to wrap her head around dead husbands and endless silence.
Isn't even sure she wants to respond.
*
"You'll break. You'll curse and drink and scream into oblivion. You'll ask the universe why you got dealt with this crappy, shitty hand, and when it doesn't respond, you'll drink and curse even more."
She clasps the warm bottle of tequila, liquor swirling as she circles the neck of the bottle.
Downs the rest of the damn thing in one gulp, burning her throat.
Eyes stinging, fire scorching her lungs.
She doesn't bring her self to care when her eyes water in response.
Just pulls out another bottle.
It ends up falling next to Amelia, who carefully rolls it in her hands.
Danger lurks in her eyes, yearning and pain and so much more.
Meredith knows she should stop her.
But she really doesn't fucking care anymore.
(Much to her surprise, Amelia doesn't drink. She cracks the cap and places the bottle back in her vicinity. Not giving it to her, but not taking it away. Looks like things have really did change when she left. It's refreshing.)
*
"You think that if you ignore it, it'll go away. But you can't. Just let it the hell out."
*
There's a anger that consumer her at four.
They had moved to the backyard now, and Meredith had previously finished taking her anger out on a old chest Alex hadn't thrown out the day before.
"Why does this happen to us? Everyone dies around us! Like a fucking curse!"
A plea into the dark.
"Why won't it stop?"
She finds her way to the ground, soft dewy grass clasped between her fingers. Draws one leg up, slinks her hands around her kneecap.
Hangs on for dear life.
Awaits the silence she knows will be heavy and painful, hanging thick with grief, a black cloud on black skies.
*
And then Amelia laughs.
It's bitter and weary, mixed with colorful words.
Soft yet harsh, flames on ice, dead husbands and dead brothers reflected in the dark, pale moonlight.
"Bailey is going to be three. Derek should be here. He should be here, but he's not."
She slumps back against deck, eyes heavy and clouded with emotion.
"You're going to need someone whenever you think of dead husbands or dead sisters, or the fucked up cards we got handed with, and the only person you want is six feet under the ground. The person we both need is buried six feet in a damn coffin, and it fucking hurts."
"What's your point?"
*
Silence.
No response comes her way, so she pushes herself off the dewy ground.
Downs the remaining tequila and stalks back towards the house, stumbling every second step.
The first step of the deck creaks under her weight when a thin voice reaches her ears. | 2aa7e686a1f04687a39b53614b710ec8 | ['695680ec303d45fe9f97401167f6e0e3'] | She thinks it's probably because of her knack at surfing, but regardless of the reason, she loves the feeling of flying.
The wind in her hair, the quiet.
Shifting on her broom, she sits at a wobbling twenty feet up in the air, watching silently as Madam Hooch instructs Maggie and a Ravenclaw boy she faintly remembers seeing at the Sorting ceremony, crouching and gesturing madly in front of them.
A gust of wind sends her broom shaking, and she steadies herself, one hand held out. Grasping at absolutely nothing.
Faking the confidence needed to sit straight again, she eases herself up and spares another glance at Maggie. The Hufflepuff is shaking, despite only being a few feet off the ground, and her eyebrows are furrowed with concentration, lips parted only slightly.
Lucy is to her right, shouting encouragements to the girl and Maggie's broom slowly rises higher.
The brunette looks up and Alex gives her a grin, methodically lifting a hand off the broom to give the girl in yellow a wave and a thumbs up.
Maggie grins and waves back and Alex feels her heart swell, soaring through the clouds.
*
The rise of December brings clean and bitter cold air, flutters of snow and unimaginable amounts of essays and quizzes.
By then, they've managed to form a group, consisting of Lucy, James, Vasquez, Maggie, Alex and Harry, with the occasional pop-in of Lex or Clark, and to her surprise, Leslie Willis ( A Slytherin in their year who claims she's only there for the hot chocolate) and Sara Lance (who still doesn't stop making Alex blush, a rosy color that sends her sputtering pumpkin juice and Maggie glaring for reasons Alex can't fathom).
They all grow closer through lazy Saturdays and frantic study sessions, and soon, their table becomes a colorful mix of yellows and red and blue and green, shiny wildly in the afternoon breeze.
*
Vasquez goes home with her for Christmas (Her parents were on a ministry trip) and Kara wrings her like a soaked sponge.
She asks constant questions about Hogwarts.
(It never ends, really.)
About the professors, and the classes, spells and jinxes, the freaking school itself.
What the food smells like, tastes like, what the rooms look like.
Questions like...
_"_ _Does water taste better there? Is it magical?"_
and,
"Are _there unicorns?...No? They should totally bring in unicorns."_
Both Jeremiah and Eliza smile, strained at constant onslaught of questions. Vasquez points and laughs, giggling softly behind popcorn crumbs and elf hats. Alex sends icy glares in the direction of her friend and sister, shutting them both up.
It's a little draining, but, mostly, it's adorable.
Alex answers all the questions that get thrown at her with a strained smile, two aspirin and a leaping heart. She's missed her bubbly, optimistic, energetic sister, and despite having good friends like Lucy and Vasquez, and now, Jimmy and Lex and Harry, they'll never be able to fill the Kara-sized hole her heart gets every day at Hogwarts. The way her chest aches whenever she sees puddles or creatures or sunshine.
If a bunch of questions is what it takes to make her sister happy, then so be it.
*
But if Kara asks her even one more question, Alex just might take the early train back.
*
Christmas fades to discarded candy wrappers and the echo of bells, and with its end comes January.
And a pounding pressure slamming her cranium, a constricting tightness in her chest.
Lex had agreed to teach her wandless magic, a feat most first years had never even heard of, much less attempted.
( _Because yea, extra pressure was exactly what she needed._ )
It's one of the hardest things she's ever attempted to do.
It takes what feels like hours and years and centuries for her mind to settle and a even larger eternity before her hands to stop shaking.
But they've spent hours and hours and the sun dips to dusk and the quill still hasn't moved.
And Alex just about wants to give up.
"How do you even just...Ugh." She flops back on the grass, sighs dramatically and grasps a few blades in her fist. "How do you think of _nothing_? Is that even humanly possible?"
Her voice seemingly echoes through the meadow, bouncing off the nearby rocks and trees. Lex looks up from his notes, frowning.
"Alex."
He says her name like a statement of fact. Not a question. Not a request.
She see's the letters weed through the grass in her hand. Take root.
"Well I wouldn't say the goal is thinking of exactly nothing. It's like...Thinking of one specific thing or thought or person and concentrating on them." He pauses, frown slightly and runs a hand through his thinning hair.
(He'd started to go bald a month earlier, when Gryffindor Alan Scott cast a hex in his direction. Lex never quite recovered from that one, but the scar that runs down Alan's face tells people that Lex didn't go down fighting.)
"Think of something that makes everything else _feel_ like nothing. Something that drowns out the white noise. Understand?"
She nods silently as Lex brushes his hands, smeared ink and all, and narrows his eyes at the quill in front of them.
Effortlessly, it floats up in the air.
He tilts his head to the side, smiling. "Whenever I do this, I think of ace. I think of the times I go and get ice cream with her, or we play Wizard's Chess next to the fireplace." He pauses, squints a little bit more. "And sometimes I'll think of Clark. But don't tell him that. He gets unbelievably cocky at times."
He smirks with that last part, chuckles and blinks.
Down the quill goes.
His piercing green eyes find hers, and he nods, nearly prodding.
"Find what matters most to you. And focus."
Alex nods, placing her attention on the motionless quill. |
87f38d16abe349689779590d7cae7a0b | ['698f53942be34cbf9a5845f2ce13058c'] | What baffled you was that she was somehow living, after clearly _not_ being alive for a number of years. Even more confusing was that she had somehow picked up on the modern idiosyncrasies of teenage culture in mere weeks. You’d watched her become almost universally accepted by everyone who met her, even the people who you knew to be preppy and very selective. The entire school loved her. What was worse—her popularity influenced yours.
Every time you turned a corner with Lisa hanging on your arm, someone would give you a dreamy sigh or bat their lashes. It was almost like being friends with her had made you several times more attractive to everyone in school. You were also certain that Lisa was doing it on purpose. Many times you had been tempted to ask her to stop whatever it was that she was doing, but the shallower side of yourself that enjoyed the attention kept you from doing so. _What could be the harm?_ So you allowed it.
* * *
You certainly didn’t expect to find yourself opening that damnable journal and reading it for a second time.
The first entry was less intimidating, after you ventured further into its pages.
_“Today, the girl woke after a terrible night’s sleep. She dreamed of the house.”_
_“Today, she returned and came to the room again.”_
_“She has come back again. She attempted to return the journal, and has not moved since.”_
_“The girl has carried on as normal, this week. She’s almost forgotten—it won’t be long, now.”_
_“I’ve appeared again. This time, she seems ready to accept it. I hope she can.”_
You couldn’t help but feel violated upon seeing the words scrawled on the old pages. Perhaps Lisa had written them? But that would mean that she’d have been in possession of the book, even after you’d woken from the ordeal—and you knew that the book was somehow tied to you now, so that shouldn’t have been possible.
Another thing that left you bemused was the use of the pronoun “I.” It only occurred once so far in the entries, and you were unsure if it referred to Lisa or someone else. For your own sanity, you hoped it was Lisa.
“Y/N!”
_Speak of the devil._ “Yeah?”
“I brought you the homework from Psychology,” she answered as she rounded the corner, an almost comically thick stack of papers in her hands. Even though you were watching, you still found yourself startled as it rattled everything on your desk with a loud _thump!_ “Your mom also told me to bring you down for dinner.”
“Wow, that seems a little light compared to what we normally get,” you scoff, barely trying to hide your sarcasm as Lisa giggled.
“I know,” she agreed with a sigh. “He’s a stickler for homework.”
“Always has been,” you mused with a glare at the papers. “So where were you, then? I’m sure it didn’t take you two hours just to get these to me.” Lisa raised her eyes to your open window, as if just noticing that the sun was setting and it was, indeed, well after school hours. Her gaze flitted between the multicolored sky and your eyes.
“Oh, just… somewhere.” Lisa seemed reluctant to explain. Her smile faltered for only a split second before she was poking at you with a waggling brow. “Why? Worried I’ll leave you for someone else?”
“Uhm, gross?” you drawl, scrunching your face and leaning as far away from her as you could. You hated the fact that her words resonated with you in a way you didn’t understand. “If I had to guess, _you’re_ the one with a thing for _me._ ” Lisa laughed and pinched your ear.
“Oh, shut up—you know you love it. Now come on, it’s time to eat.” She grabbed your forearm and pulled you from your chair, refusing to look back at you as you protested.
You could have sworn that, as you passed from your own room and into the hallway, you heard Lisa mumble something else under her breath—something sad and dejected.
You never asked her to repeat it.
* * *
New entries began appearing every day after that.
The journal was reading your mind, in a way, because the words spelled out things you didn’t even realize you felt until you read it.
_“I think she is upset. I don’t know why—I can’t bring myself to ask.”_
True to the journal’s words, you had begun to feel something different about the way Lisa acted toward you. It was certainly subtle, but still there.
The way her smile dimmed as your friends approached you. The way she would wind her arm almost unconsciously around your waist as groups of enamored students drew closer in the halls. As graduation neared and girls and boys became bolder, she would shut them down before they even had a chance to speak. Every time you left to be on your own, there was a sadness in her eyes that you didn’t—couldn’t—comprehend.
Naturally, she tried to hide these things. She didn’t want you to know how upset she was, whether it was your fault or not. It left you frustrated for a number of reasons.
First and foremost, you’d come to rely on Lisa’s presence as somewhat of a constant in your life. It was reassuring to have her there when you needed to vent or wanted a hug. | 1090add66e024d05bf41d7f41c422e70 | ['698f53942be34cbf9a5845f2ce13058c'] | It didn’t take long to realize that you, yourself had been affected by whatever was happening. You should have felt your heart beating a mile a minute, but instead there was a complete lack of a pulse. You tried to suck in a breath, but your lungs wouldn’t expand as you commanded them to. Panic began to well inside of you, but as you were you couldn’t do anything to quell it. You stared back up at her, waiting.
“Yes,” she finally answered. “I am Lisa.”
There was a sharp, painful tug in your chest, and you blacked out.
* * *
You’d learned once that humans had an uncanny ability to feel when they were being watched. Perhaps when scientists referred to a sixth sense, that was what they meant? Maybe your sixth sense was so strong that it extended into unconsciousness and woke you when nothing else did.
Your eyes opened to the grey ceiling, cracked and chipping just above your head as you lay on a neatly kept bed tucked into the corner of a familiar room. It didn’t take long for you to recognize it as the one from the abandoned house. You assumed that’s where you still were, hours later and freezing for lack of your coat and other layers. Your joints cracked with the effort of sitting up, back popping at uneven intervals and your neck _beyond_ stiff. Not only were you exhausted, but you felt as though you’d been lying in the same damn spot for ages.
When you finally felt normal enough to attempt the simple task of putting your legs over the side of the mattress, you realized that for whatever reason, your heart was still stopped, and you weren’t breathing. It didn’t bother or shock you like it had, but it caused you more discomfort than you’d ever admit to know that you were somehow alive without those two essential functions.
When you lifted your head, you noticed that everything was in the same state it had been in before you lost consciousness. Nothing but you was moving. Perhaps that’s why your body had left such a distinct imprint in the comforter of the bed, and why everything seemed to be much too cold.
“Are you feeling well?”
You dragged your eyes away from the diluted pallor of your skin and glanced to the doorway. Lisa stood there, with her white nightgown hanging just above the floor and veil no longer obscuring her face.
She was gorgeous. Almond-shaped eyes that reminded you of amber stones in the sunlight, a shy smile, and kiddish cheeks that made her look and feel less threatening to you. Of course, you still knew that somehow the state of things, both in this house and in your body was her doing. So you just nodded and turned your eyes away for fear she would read them. You wondered how long she had been watching you.
“I’m glad,” she continued softly as she moved toward you. She stopped just short of you, her ghostly toes the only thing you could see as you stared at the floor. “You were unconscious for quite some time.”
“Your doing,” you scoff, and she falls silent for a moment.
“Yes, you’re right.” You sucked in a surprised breath but said nothing. Once again, like minutes ago, you felt her gaze on you. “I had hoped you would return here.” You look up at her—for the first time acknowledging how tall she really is—and narrow your eyes in what you hope is a threatening stare.
“So you could have your book back?”
“Tis’ not mine anymore,” she replies with a smile. Completely unaffected by your bravado, she pulls the book out of thin air and holds it out to you. “It belongs to you.”
She must have found your lack of a response and noticeable skepticism funny, because she giggled softly as she set the journal in your lap before taking a step back. After a moment’s hesitation, you pulled back the front cover. Your name was there, etched into the leather next to hers, taunting you like some kind of sick joke.
“What is this?” you bark, the obvious accusation seeming to offend the spirit— _Lisa_ , you reminded yourself. “Did you do this?”
“No,” she answered, earnest. “‘Twas the book itself.”
“The book,” you mimed back to her. “The book wrote my name. Is that what you’re telling me?”
“In a way. Yes.”
You neglected to speak again after that. While you certainly felt much better than you had, there was a part of you that felt vulnerable. Like you had been violated. It was a sickness in your stomach that didn’t fade and the urge to wretch overpowered almost everything else—but nothing came up. So you swallowed the heaving sensations in your chest and murmured a quiet thank you as you brushed past Lisa— _strangely, you could feel a certain warmth to her as you did—_ and left.
* * *
Lisa followed you. You hadn’t noticed it at first, with the way school tended to become busy around the end of the year, but everyone else had.
The new girl, all fiery orange hair and toothy grins, took your graduating class by storm in the final months of your senior year. And she loved to follow you around.
At first, you thought it was because of the book. Perhaps she wanted you to return it to her, which you would have been happy to do if the book itself didn’t seem to have a mind of its own; every time you shoved it into her hands the book would reappear on the plain desk in your room. After several attempts, you gave up on it—as she had advised you to do, early on—and begrudgingly embraced her presence in your life. |
f9d26903f6c54f189fad8009be2507f1 | ['69ac777c95ff48b5a0f0286a3d4cd410'] | “No, I just cried like a little girl on you,” Thomas said.
Minho looked down at his shirt and shrugged. “It’s just water.”
Thomas nodded and just stared at Minho. Minho just stared back.
Newt looked back and forth between the two before sighing dramatically. “Are you two done checking each other out yet?”
Thomas blushed again and looked the other way. Minho frowned and glared at Newt again.
“Shut it, slinthead.”
Ignoring Minho, Newt turned towards Thomas. “What’s your name, greenie?”
Thomas looked at Newt surprised. He was still trying to get over the fact that a ghost was here, talking to him.
“You do know your name, don’t you?” Newt asked teasingly.
“Yeah. Of course I know my name. It’s Thomas.”
“Thomas,” Minho said, causing Thomas’s cheeks to turn red again. He was really starting to hate how he couldn’t stop blushing in front of Minho.
“Well, Tommy,” Newt said as he started to disappear, “I’m sorry for scaring you so badly.”
Thomas just nodded.
“Minho,” Newt said, his voice whispy now that he had almost faded completely away, “bring him with you the next time you come to visit, okay?”
“Yeah,” Minho responded. When Newt was gone, Minho turned to Thomas and smiled. Thomas’s heart flipped at seeing that smile again. Minho reached over and tussled Thomas’s hair before sliding his arm around the younger’s shoulders.
“Come on,” Minho said, pulling Thomas with him out of the old, abandoned classroom, “I have a PS4 in my room, and if you’re into doing homework, I guess we can do that together too.”
Thomas snorted, but allowed Minho to pull him along. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, at least not yet, but he liked the feel of Minho so close to him. Maybe Newt could scare him again and he’d need Minho to make it all better.
“Why are you smiling so much?” Minho asked Thomas.
“Just looking forward to beating you on PS4,” Thomas replied. Minho just laughed. Thomas found himself laughing with him. | d44bd252219c45198b25356aa75d017b | ['69ac777c95ff48b5a0f0286a3d4cd410'] |
Not Quite a Tradition
**Author's Note:**
> I did this in a bit of a rush to quickly get it done on time, and it's not what I really had in mind at first, but hopefully it's still somewhat good. Enjoy!
Thomas couldn’t believe his luck. He was sent away to a boarding school because his mom thought that it would be good for him, and yet, as soon as he entered St. Lucien's he unfortunately caught the eye of a tall, mean blonde named Gally. Gally made Thomas life at St. Lucien's difficult and taxing. After finding out about the abandoned right wing of the school that was supposedly haunted by a former student that had killed himself, Thomas wasn’t surprised when Gally started teasing him about it, saying that the ghost was going to capture him and drag him to hell. It didn’t really bother Thomas so much. He just ignored Gally, but he couldn’t ignore what happened next.
“Let me out!” Thomas yelled, banging on the locked doors. Gally and his bully friends pushed Thomas into the dark right wing of the school and shut the doors behind him. Thomas tried to pry the doors open, but they wouldn’t bulge.
The hallway he was in was dark. There wasn’t any electricity working in that part of the school. Some of the lights were hanging from the ceiling, about to fall, hanging on only by a few wires. Doors leading to what Thomas assumed were classrooms were closed with what looked like claw marks on them. The hallway was cold and creepy. Thomas shivered and started banging on the doors again.
“Gally, open the door!” Thomas shouted. “Please, let me out!”
“Who’s there?” a voice asked, causing Thomas to freeze. He turned around and saw that all of the doors were open. But they were just closed. Thomas gulped and pressed his back up against the locked doors behind him.
“I said, who’s there?!” the voice said, sounding aggravated.
Thomas jumped and quickly ran into a room. He was right, it was a classroom. He ran to the front of the room and hid underneath the dusty teacher’s desk. He was trying to calm his breathing and completely ignore the memories of what he heard about the ghost of the right wing. Thomas grabbed his chest and sighed. Everything was fine.
BANG!
Thomas jumped and hit his head on the desk he was hiding under. The classroom door had slammed shut. Thomas’s eyes widened when he heard desks and chairs sliding across the floor in the room. The windows started to crack, and there was the sound of fingernails dragging across the chalkboard. Thomas closed his eyes and prayed that he was just dreaming.
“It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not…”
“Boo!” a voice said, too close for comfort.
Thomas cracked his eyes open to see a blonde kid crouched down in front of him, but what really frightened Thomas was that he could see right through the blonde. Thomas screamed and nearly toppled the desk over, trying to get from underneath it. He, unaware, ran right through the translucent blonde and went to the door, but it wouldn’t open.
Thomas yanked on the door and looked back at the kid, that he realized was taller than him. “You’re- you’re- a ghost!” he stuttered out.
“And I’m going to devour your soul,” the ghost replied in a deep, accented voice.
Thomas didn’t know what to do. He was practically frozen in fear, but he fell down to the ground and started sobbing, thinking what he could’ve done to deserve this.
“What the hell is going on in there?” a voice asked from the other side of the door.
Thomas looked up with relief and hope dancing across his face. He didn’t notice the sigh escaping the ghost.
“Help me!” Thomas yelled to the person on the other side of the door.
“Open this shuckin door right now!” the mystery person yelled. And just like that the door opened.
Thomas saw a muscular Asian kid walk into the room. Not caring how he’d seem, Thomas threw himself at the Asian and held on for dear life.
With tears still in his eyes, Thomas pleaded, “Don’t let him kill me.”
“Dammit, Newt,” the Asian said, glaring at the ghost, “leave this kid alone. Can’t you see you’ve scared him enough?”
The ghost, Newt, pouted. “But I need some way to entertain myself. The afterlife is boring when you’re stuck in the abandoned part of a school.”
The Asian rolled his eyes at Newt before turning back to Thomas, who was still holding on to the taller kid. Thomas had his arms thrown around the Asian, while his head was tucked into the other’s chest.
“Hey there, it’s okay,” the Asian said, rubbing Thomas’s back soothingly. “He’s not going to kill you. Newt’s just a dumb shank who likes to scare the greenies every now and then.”
Thomas looked up at the Asian, blinking his teary, doe-like eyes. “Greenies?” he asked, confused.
“It’s what we called the new kids,” the Asian informed him. “I’m Minho, by the way. The only friend this dumb shank has.” Minho gestured over to Newt, who had crossed his see-through arms.
“Alby is my friend,” Newt responded, sounding affronted, “and a better one too.”
“Alby already graduated,” Minho said, “so now I’m the only one who has to deal with the greenies after you scare the crap out of them.”
Thomas, who had been watching the exchanges between Minho and Newt, had just realized that he was still hugging and holding onto Minho. He quickly let go and jumped back, looking down to hide his blush.
“Sorry,” Thomas mumbled.
Minho smiled. It was a nice smile that made Thomas feel like everything was A-okay. “It’s okay. At least you didn’t throw up on me like the last greenie.” Newt snickered, which earned a glare from Minho. |
138a294b95ca40339941222247cf532f | ['69d40a23e761479ab8053ab5f209f5c1'] |
No One Would Have to Know
Nico should really try being a little more subtle. He was honestly surprised no one was giving him questioning looks, because he was blatantly staring, maybe even swooning a little, but no one would ever have to know that.
The head counsellor of cabin 13 was currently focusing most of his attention on Will Solace from across the dining pavillion. Wistfully imagining fantisies of him sitting over with the other boy, instead of over here at the Hades table with his two cousins Percy Jackasson and Jason Disgrace, who were currently arguing over battle strategies.
Part of Nico was mindlessly listening to their conversation in the back of his brain, but it was easy to get caught up in Will. The head medic had the brightest blue eyes that-Nico felt like a huge cliché when saying it- he wished he could look into forever. Too bad whenever Will so much as brushed his hand he was reduced to a blushing mess.
Liking Percy had always fight like a burden, he didn't want to like Percy, it was hard on him, and he never really enjoyed the way the Son of Poseidon could make him feel with a simple smirk.
With Will however, it was different, liking Percy had felt like something to be ashamed of, but with Will it was impossible to feel bad about liking someone like him. Someone who lit up a room everyone time they walked in, someone who made it their mission to know something about everyone and make them feel like they mattered. The kind of person who asked about your day, and generally cared.
That was why it was so difficult for Nico to figure out if Will like him back or not. Were the smiles and casual touches Nico always blushed at worth blushing for, or was that just the way Will was with everyone? Or were the reserved just for Nico? He really hoped it was the latter. Those small grins or light brushes of fingertips on wrists, made Nico feel so alive.
And he really hoped they meant as much to Will as they did to him. Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe Will was just a really nice friend, you know no-homo man. But it didn't feel that way. From the McDonald's runs in the city, to the watching movies in the Hades cabin, Will seemed to like spending time with him. Nico could only hope he felt the same way.
Plus, Percy explained that Will had come out as Bi a couple years ago and gone into the city for a Pride parade- something that Nico still wasn't entirely sure was- with some other kids at camp. So that's why it didn't seem so far fetched that Will might like Nico back.
" So who were you thinking we should join with for capture the flag tonight?" Nico was pulled out of his thoughts by Percy's question which had obviously been directed at him. The Big Three Cabins usually teamed up for capture the flag, every Friday and made it a habit to sit together at lunch to plan, an appetizing meal of spaghetti. But Nico clearly hadn't been paying attention, and as Jason followed his line of sight to the Apollo boy Nico knew that Jason knew why.
Jason had been one of the most supportive people when he had found out about Nico's crush, so it was really no surprise that he had picked up on Nico's not so subtle glances at Will Solace. But, he was also Jason Grace, so on top of being a supportive best friend, he was also a troublemaker who's favourite activity was to mess around in Nico's live life.
"Actually Perce, Nico was just telling me at the campfire the other night about how he thinks the Apollo cabin would be a great asset to our team". Percy pondered Jason's response for a minute, while Nico angrily mimed murdering his best friend. "Well their cabin does have it's benefits, they're the best archers at camp, and if anyone on our team got hurt we would have Will and the rest of the healers to help out". Jason nodded his head in agreement, and smirked at Nico " Ya I think we should definitely make a deal with them, Nico and can go ask right now".
Nico was seriously considering committing murder, he could see the headline now "Di Angelo Suffocates Grace With Spaghetti Because He Tries To Play Cupid" . But instead he followed Jason over across the pavilion to the Apollo table, muttering to the Son of Jupiter the entire way there about how he was 'never confiding in him again'.
Soon enough they were both standing beside the rickety picnic table that should have been too small to hold so many brightly dressed campers. Around 15 pairs of big round eyes peered up at Nico, all of different colours, though none of them held the same enchanting blue as Will's did.
"Jason, Nico what can we help you with?" Will's spoke out in between the chatter of the dining hall, and the aimless tune of a nearby radio. If it wasn't his imagination Nico was sure that Will had lingered on his name a little. Oh and good Lord, now he was looking directly at Nico a small grin present of his lips. Nico quickly ducked his head as a blush spread across his face.
"Well you see Will, as you know Percy, Nico and I usually team up for capture the flag, and we think that we could take the win tonight if we had them help of your cabin on our team, whaddya say?" Nico thought Jason could make a very convincing sales person, if this demigod thing didn't work out. | cf4a56e20ad74fe8bdabb8e6697ff355 | ['69d40a23e761479ab8053ab5f209f5c1'] | Nico finished the last part quietly. His eyes were glossy, but he didn't feel like he needed to hide any more, he had been honest with Will. Nico laughed " Wow. I really know how to lighten the mood. Good going Nico, way to woo a guy".
Will had probably just reevaluated his impression of Nico from 'pretty cool guy' to 'Jesus this dude needs help'. But when he laughed it was music, and Nico realized he didn't need to completely give up hope.
"Man I am feeling pretty wooed, I might have to take some tips from you". Nico glanced up and Will moved closer. "You see there's this guy I've kinda got a thing for." "Short. Dark hair. Italian. Freckles, but only if you're really looking. Bad temper". Nico was smiling now. "Maybe you know him his name's Nick or something?" Will was right in front of Nico now, their foreheads pressed together. He shuddered, it was like a dream.
"I don't wanna mess this up Will" he paused "I really like you". Their lips were ghosting over each other. "I really like you too Neeks". Nico let himself be enveloped in a world that they had created, Will's hand on his waist, Nico's arms hooked purposely around his neck. "And I don't plan on going anywhere" Will said.
Once when Nico was on a mission for his father, he shadow travel to a small town in Arizona. He stayed at an inn, with a name that rhymed, but he had forgotten. It was run by an elderly couple, who had lived there all their life. They told him about how ir had been weeks since it rained, and if it didn't come soon the farmer's crops woudl die. Nico was paying his bill on the last day, when the sky darkened and in the air became charged and heavy with mositure. It began to pour. That was what this kiss was like. Waiting and waiting and waiting and when it did happen, it was electric and all around you, making you feel so alive.
He wanted to say that it was perfect. But in reality they were a fumbling mess, of hands unsure of where to go, both smiling into the kiss. They kept returning, tongues shyly peeking into mouths. Neither boy seemed to have much experience (Nico thought that was fine, more room for practice). As far as first kisses go, he was glad it was with Will. Yet, just as fingertips were gently meeting the skin at Nico's hips, they heard shouts and the sound of boots running closer. Remembering what they were supposed to do, they pulled apart and grabbed their weapons.
They were both on high alert, yet Nico kept on sneaking blushing glances at Will. Who was red faced, red lipped, and hair missed, Nico imagined he probably didn't look much better, though with Will's naturally curly hair, he could pull it off. Seconds later, the footsteps hot louder, Jason, Percy, Clarisse, Kayla and the rest of the blue team trickled into the clearing by the creek. "What were you guys doing?! Where's the flag?!" Nico and Will both wide-eyed, turned to each other, and then looked behind them to were the flag had been positioned between two rocks, just ten minutes ago. It was gone.
They looked back to each other, and then began to laugh. Clutching their stomachs, full blown laughter. Percy however was furious "What were you doing?! How did you not see them?! Nico I've seen you take down an entire army yourself, and Will I've seen you make a monster collapse just by cutting a certain point on its body! How did this happen?!"
Nico and Will both gazed at the ground, red faced and embarrassed. "We uh-" Nico started "-might have gotten a little distracted" Will finished.
"What could you have possibly gotten distracted by, your in the middle of the woods, with nothing around you but trees and each other?!" Percy shouted.
Finally it was Kayla who connected their red faces to the missing flag "Oh I see". Nico worriedly raised his head " You do?" She smirked at him, and he blushed even more. She turned toward the rest of the team "They got distracted" she paused for dramatic affect. "Because they're in the middle of the woods with nothing around them but trees and each other." She finished raising a smug eyebrow.
A look of realization passed over everyone's faces', finally both Jason and Percy lit up, all traces of anger gone. "Woo! I knew it! Way to be little cousin go get some!" shouted Jason. Now both Nico and Will were both blushing, as people came up and congratulated them with high fives, and claps on the backs, and 'I knew you'd be cute together's.
When everyone went to the campfire that night, people were still making fun of how great Nico and Will were at guarding, and Nico didn't even have the heart to send skeletons after them, because he was so happy, it was ruining his reputation.
~
But at the end of the night, when everyone was singing their loudest and the campfire was burning high above their heads. When the campfire turned a vibrant purple with the energy of the camp. If Will Solace grabbed Nico's hand from beside him and held it tight, well know one would have to know about how Nico heart began to soar as high as the campfire, or how he blushed but no one could see because of the flames. No one would have to know. And just when the campfire turned a bright blue, and everyone was bathed in the light Nico leaned over and whispered to Will "Wait. Did you call me short?"
**Author's Note:**
> I tried not to make Percy seem stupid, because I hate it when he is portrayed that way. Also this is my first fic :) I hope it's good! |
b08515028c3946a89da75988e5eb9f79 | ['69d4a37259ab4776aa4f90c856846f98'] |
How We Go Together
**Author's Note:**
> A series of moments in Jim and Spock's relationship.
It's inevitable, really. They're inevitable.
–
They play chess together on their nights off. They share short and sweet moments that Jim savors with every part of his being because he's never had anything like this before. They talk about their lives before the Enterprise and this, this is where their friendship starts: in the corner of Spock's warm room over a 3-D chess set, and Spock almost always wins the games.
–
Spock and Jim eat their lunches together nearly everyday. More often than not, Bones joins them, grumbling about the last horrific thing that Jim has done. They sit together at the small tables and Jim watches with laughter stuck in the back of his throat as Spock tries a particular dish that he clearly doesn't like. Jim teases Spock for the way his face scrunches up and Bones pretends to gag and says “You two are disgusting,” before getting up and walking away.
–
During travel time in between missions, Jim is prone to becoming restless and fidgety. Spock should probably not find this as amusing as he does, but something about it is entertaining—the way Jim will get up from the Captain's chair and walk in circles around the bridge. He checks on each station as he passes them by, but he always stays longer at the Science station—lingering for an extra 30.2 seconds each time. He'll place a hand on Spock's shoulder as he leans over and surveys the readings that the scanners spit out. He will speak briefly with Spock, over what they are each doing after their shifts, and when he goes to leave, Jim will squeeze Spock's shoulder, and Spock will pretend that his heart rate doesn't increase by 9.4 percent.
–
The planet reminds Spock of Delta Vega, in that it is vast and covered in snow. Jim has ordered an impromptu shore leave, and the crew is to beam down in two separate shifts. It is entirely against regulations, but in recent weeks the whole crew has been pushed past its limits with dangerous, life-threatening missions, and Spock finds he is hard pressed to go up against Jim on this. Perhaps they are in need of a break.
When a snowball is thrown at the back of Spock's head, his only thought is that Jim would be the only one daring enough to tease him in such a way. He turns to see his Captain, standing wide-eyed and innocent, his black gloves littered with melting snow.
Later, Spock won't be able to pinpoint what made him make his own snowball and crush it against Jim's head, but maybe, he thinks, it is the way that Jim smiles at him.
–
“Have you ever been in love, Spock?' Jim asks. His heart races as he dares a glance at Spock, but the Vulcan hasn't taken his gaze away from the tri-d chessboard.
“I once believed that I was in love with Nyota before the termination of our relationship. However upon further reflection, I do not think that was the case, and in fact I was simply infatuated with the idea of her. Something I am not proud of.” When Spock flicks his gaze up and casts it in Jim's direction, it is piercing and soul crushing. “And you, Jim? Have you ever been in love?”
“Y—yeah,” Jim stammers. “Yeah. Once.”
“And?” Spock asks, seemingly intrigued now, “what happened?”
Jim gives a weak smile. “I don't know yet. It's to be continued.”
He can't be positive, but to Jim it almost seems like Spock frowns. “In that case,” Spock says quietly, “I wish you luck in your endeavors.”
Jim swallows hard. “Thanks, I'll probably need it.”
–
On his 27th birthday, Jim is bombarded with messages and well wishes on his descent into his newest year of life. He greets all of this with smiles and hugs, and by the end of the day all he wants is to curl up with a good book and maybe sleep for a whole day or ten.
When he gets back to his quarters at the end of his shift though, Spock is waiting outside the door for him, and Jim can't help but smile. He doesn't object when Spock follows him silently into his rooms, especially since inside, sitting on the table where they normally play chess, there are two plates set out, piled high with all of Jim's favorite food. A candle flickers softly in the middle and Jim's heart all but melts.
“Happy birthday, Jim,” Spock says from behind him.
And how can he not kiss Spock after that?
–
Jim has nightmares.
Spock finds this out when his partner wakes in the middle of the night, thrashing the air and gasping for breath. It is startling and Jim is overly apologetic about something that he likely cannot control. Spock does his best to soothe, runs his hands over Jim's sides and stomach, trying to be as calming as possible.
Jim clings to the affection like a lifeline, clutching onto Spock with his head buried in Spock's neck. He holds on until his shaking dissolves and Spock can practically feel the energy seeping from Jim as he is eased back into a hopefully dreamless slumber.
And this is how it goes each night. Jim wakes, and Spock comforts until Jim sleeps once more.
–
Jim is yelling something at him, he thinks. He can't be too sure. His voice is distant, and muffled. Spock is vaguely aware that there is blood spilling from his side, directly under his heart. He's losing copious amounts, really, and a small part of him registers surprise at the fact that he is not yet dead. | f9584ea22c23425bad970559c38981da | ['69d4a37259ab4776aa4f90c856846f98'] |
Truth
**Author's Note:**
> Shameless fluff all around!
Jim bangs angrily against the door of his quarters. He’s not quite sure how Bones and Uhura pulled it off, but he has been successfully locked into his own room with none other than Spock. He’s tried everything to get out, from using his override code to actually replicating a goddamn crowbar to pry the door open, but nothing’s working. “Let us _out_ , Bones!” he growls angrily.
“No way, kid!” Bones shouts from the other side of the door. “You two aren’t coming out of there until you’ve talked this out. You’re driving everyone up a wall.”
Jim tries his override code again, only to be answered with a computer’s automated voice informing him that the cypher is incorrect. He bangs once more on the door for good measure. “There’s _nothing_ to talk about,” he insists. “Spock and I are fine, so let us the fuck out of this room. That’s an order!”
“Sorry, Captain!” he hears Uhura say.
Aggravated, Jim sinks down to the floor, brings his knees up to his chest and leans his head back against the door. He blinks once before aiming his gaze directly at Spock.
Spock is sitting on the edge of Jim’s bed, the picture of absolute poise. He remains unmoving and seemingly emotionless—something that irks Jim to his core, because dammit, Spock should be more upset about this than he is.
“How are you not more pissed off?” Jim asks, annoyed.
Tilting his head to the side, Spock asks, “Captain?”
Groaning, Jim drags a calloused hand across his face. “They locked us in here,” he grumbles. “And what? You’re not even slightly put off by it?”
Spock raises an eyebrow. “It is illogical to harbor negative emotions toward a situation we have no control over, Captain.”
Jim rolls his eyes, keeping them pointed at the ceiling for a moment before bringing his gaze back down. “Of course it is.”
They sit in silence for long moments after that. This is the absolute last thing that Jim needs to be happening right now. Because honestly, none of this should have ever happened. Jim had been keeping his secret. No one knew but him and Bones, and he had damn well planned to keep it that way. But then of course, their most recent away mission had to get screwed up, of course he had to be injected with some sort of truth serum that caused him to admit his undying love for his XO, and of course since that happened they were avoiding each other like the goddamn plague. Of course, of course, of-fucking-course.
~ _Two Weeks Earlier~_
“ _Bones_ ,” Jim griped, pulling the IV from his arm. “I don’t think I’m gonna do anything stupid!” He smiled brightly at the CMO.
“Exactly. You don’t _think_ you are, which means that you _are_ ,” McCoy scolded. “Jim, whatever those Ortoc bastards hit you with was some powerful stuff. We’re still running tests on the drug and we don’t know the full psychological effects it could have yet. You’re better off waiting down here until we get everything figured out.”
Jim crossed his arms and gave a scowl. “No way,” he protested. “You think I’m gonna stay here so you can go all hypo-happy on me? No thanks.”
“Dammit Jim,” Bones groaned. “I’m not gonna go ‘hypo-happy’–whatever the hell that means. It’d just be smart of you to stay put until we get the whole mess sorted out. Your shift can be covered, and besides, rest would be beneficial.”
Jim snorted. “Beneficial? You sound like Spock. Oh! Spock,” he smiled, a warm feeling curling low in his belly. “I love Spock.”
“Jesus, Jim, lower your voice! You want the whole damn crew to find out?” McCoy growled, his tone hushed.
Jim shook his head. No. He did not want the whole crew to find out. He only wanted one person to know. The one person he really couldn’t tell. Jim looked up to see Bones frowning at him. “Where’s Spock?”
“The hobgoblin wouldn’t leave until he was assured that ‘the Captain’s state of affairs were most stable, Doctor,’” McCoy rolled his eyes. “When he was sure you were fine, I told him to take a hike. He was taking up space in my sickbay.”
“Okay, so where is he?”
Bones groaned again. “Dammit Jim, I’m a doctor, not a private investigator. He’s probably in his quarters doing some weird Vulcan voodoo.”
Jim smiled at the idea of Spock meditating. He loved it when Spock was in that peaceful state. Sometimes if he was lucky, he could smell the incense coming through the door of their shared bathroom while he worked in his own quarters. Jim perked up as an idea ran through his mind. Maybe if he could get there quick enough, he could find Spock meditating. He hopped down from the biobed he sat on and gripped McCoy by the shoulders. “Bye Bones!” He chirped, and then he was gone.
“Jim!” he heard being called after him. “Wait, we still don’t know the effects of—”
Jim was happy when the door to medbay closed swiftly behind him to cut off the voice of the doctor. Free of McCoy’s hypo-clad clutches, he wound his way through the corridors quickly and easily. He knew his ship like the back of his hand, and when he reached the turbolift, he entered in the command to take him to crew quarters without even having to look at the control panel.
The ride was quicker than he thought it’d be. He had no sooner left the turbolift than he found himself standing outside of the First Officer’s quarters, chiming at the door. When Spock’s slim figure appeared in the threshold, Jim gave a lopsided smile and felt his heart kick up a notch. Spock was wearing his Vulcan meditation robes, but to Jim’s disappointment, he couldn’t smell any of the typical aroma that went with it. |
e9319e3f2b444e47ac8fd3400470ced3 | ['69dfc3b991374b3eba5d4576297d762a'] | A Little Brighter
**Author's Note:**
> I'll warn you again
> This makes absolutely no sense
> I'm so serious
> But don't question it
> This just an excuse to write a murder scene
John lost his count every time.
All he had to do was count to twenty five. Twenty five stabs into the bastard’s chest and he could clean this all up. He was told to count to twenty five and then he was done with this fool. The man was coughing over and over, struggling to hang onto what life he had left. John lifted the small knife from out his chest for the millionth time. Jabbed it back in, watched as the man’s body flinched slightly.
And he started counting again.
_One._ The knife went in, came back out. Like normal.
_ Two. _
_ Three. _
_ Four. _
_Five._ John glanced at his clothes, covered with blood splatters. As expected.
_ Six. _
_ Seven. _
_ Eight. _
_ Ten. _
Ten? _Nine._ John could count, he swore. He was simply distracted by the thrill of stabbing someone over and over, and over and over and over.
_ Ten. _
_ Eleven. _
_Twelve._ The man was sure to be dead now, but who cared? Not John. Never John. He still had thirteen more to go.
_ Thirteen. _
_Fourteen._ John looked at the man’s face. Wide eyes. Shocked eyes.
_ Fifteen. _
_ Sixteen. _
_Seventeen._ The action started to become more of John lifting his arm up and then letting it fall.
_Eighteen._ The sound made by a knife going in and out of a man had morphed into a _squish_ -like sound.
_ Nineteen. Squish. _
_Twenty. Squish._ Five more. Just five more.
_ Twenty one. Squish. _
_ Twenty two. Squish. _
_Twenty four. Squish._ No. No cheating.
_ Twenty three. Squish. _
_ Twenty four. Squish. _
_Twenty five. Squish._ John looked to his left, saw the sledge hammer in the corner of the bathroom. Of course, he almost forgot. Standing up from off the floor, he made the few steps toward the hammer. Picked it up, and nearly dropped it. The repetitive stabbing must’ve wore his arm out.
He lifted the sledge hammer over his shoulder.
“And one for good luck.”
John brought the heavy tool down onto the man’s head, effectively cracking his head open.
Not really, but John would love to see that.
The sledge hammer made a thud sound as it hit the tile floor. John turned to face the mirror so he could look at himself. His freckles seemed to be painted a deep red, his hands and clothes sprinkled in pretty much the same color.
John smiled and waved to his reflection.
He looked over at the small calendar on the wall, and used the blood on his hands to draw an x over the date April 13.
“The world’s a little bit brighter without you.”
**Author's Note:**
> I'm sane I swear | 6bec3921eb7f46ff908c4fe44c526dd8 | ['69dfc3b991374b3eba5d4576297d762a'] | Cross Lovers
**Author's Note:**
> The title has no correlation with the actual fic, it was a suggestion from a close friend,
> And also I haven't written fanfiction in a while soooo I don't know what you're expecting but don't expect much
Aaron was surprised he remember the specific day.
It was quite boring, in his opinion; he and Alexander were simply resting, sleeping in bed, something they both hadn’t done in a while. Though, Aaron really only slept for a couple hours. Maybe because of the smoke in the room.
Because when was Aaron not high?
The temperature was rising by the minute. Aaron continued to wear his baggy sweater, and continued to lie under the comforter, and so did Alexander. They cuddled and snuggled up close to each other, ignoring the heat that filled the room.
Aaron flinched, a bit startled as Alexander’s fingers traced along his chest. He looked down at Alexander, who looked right back up, smiled. Kissed his lips softly, gently.
Lustfully?
The action was normal. If the couple didn’t work most the day, they’d fuck instead, and Aaron was pretty sure that was the definition of a sex addict. They most definitely would be lying if they said they gave shit.
Aaron sat up, moving his arm from under the smaller man, scooted back to lean against the headboard. Alexander’s smile tugged into a smirk. It was cute enough to cause Aaron’s cock to chub up at the expression. It wasn’t very difficult for Alex to arouse him. He watched the dark-haired man roll onto his stomach, get up on all fours, and shake his ass in the air.
Aaron let a chuckle slip. Alex looked silly doing that.
Alexander turned so his backside was pretty much in Aaron’s face, lifted and moved the blankets out of the way of the larger man’s crotch. Quickly unzipped the jeans, not bothering to pull them off before taking hold of the other’s half-hard dick. Started to stroke slowly. Aaron made an unreadable face, reached down and pulled Alexander’s rough sweater sleeve up. He hummed in pleasure as Alex just continued what he was doing, stroked the man’s hair in slight encouragement and guidance. _ Go ahead. _
And Alex went on ahead, licked up the shaft of the cock in front of him. Aaron gripped a clump of Alexander’s hair, let his lips part and his eyes close. He moaned softly as the warm and wet heat from his lover’s mouth envelop him.
Alexander eventually pulled his head up, and Aaron half-assisted him as he pushed his head back down, taking in more of Aaron than he had before. Aaron responded respectfully, groaning and bucking his hips upward. Alexander held still for a moment, allowed his throat and jaw to relax.
Alexander continued then, bobbing his head, grazing his teeth along Aaron’s length.
Aaron’s hand left Alexander’s hair, trailed along his back. Said man hummed, sending vibrations through his member.
The orgasm built up and up in Aaron until it was almost overwhelming. He released, practically howling, spilled into Alex’s mouth.
Aaron opened his eyes slowly, looked over at his boyfriend, who’d sat up in a kneeling position. The smaller man smiled to him. Reaching toward him with a finger pointed out, Aaron lifted Alex’s chin slightly and brought him near. Alexander stuck his tongue out in response, clean of the other’s seed, and Aaron merely rolled his eyes, planted a kiss onto Alexander’s lips.
**Author's Note:**
> My works will always be pretty short for now,
> Like I'm serious this was literally one page in the doc |
363a59d712024aff9a24aee73c4cdd59 | ['69e375c9d7d54f2aba8df6fa51a206ef'] | "Well, you ARE a dumbass, and you NEED someone to kick your ass every once in a while, so don't even try to bait me into another yelling match, because I really will go down there and actually kick your ass, okay?" She was smirking, he could hear it.
He couldn't help the little sound that was almost a chuckle. "Yeah, okay. Sometimes I do need someone to help me get my head out of my ass."
"Nuh-uh, that's not what I said. I said kick your ass. And I really will."
His smile broadened. "I know you will, Chie. And you're right. About all of this." His eyes flickered along the rows of boxes and backstock. "I need to stop moping around. It's not helping anyone, and it only makes me into an asshole."
"A bigger asshole," she corrected.
"Fine, thanks."
"Told you."
"Yeah. I'm gonna go, okay? I've been on break too long, and I think there's some stuff I need to do tonight before I go to sleep."
"Yeah, okay, but hey, forecast says it'll be nice tomorrow, so let's have lunch on the roof, okay? Bring your own noodles, I'm not sharing mine again."
"That sounds good," he said, ignoring the jibe. A thought occurred to him. "...Invite Kanji too? And I'll ask Ted."
"Yeah, I'll do that." Her voice sounded a bit distant and wistful, but he could hardly blame her. It wouldn't be the whole team, just the members still regularly attending Yasogami High. But that would still mean something.
"Cool. And, uh, yeah, how about we meet you on the walk to school, that intersection on the hill?"
She snorted, but it sounded a lot more playful. "Great, now you're turning into clingy Yosuke."
"I am not! I just thought it'd be nice, but fine, if you're gonna be like that about it-"
She laughed. "Nah, bring it on. We haven't spent enough time together recently."
"We should, though. I mean, the holiday is coming up." And suddenly he remembered that he'd never actually told them... He grinned. "So we should definitely make some plans."
"Sounds good. I'll see you then, okay?"
"Yeah. Uh," and he paused. "Thanks, Chie."
She also paused, her voice coming a little bit strained. "Yeah, don't mention- wait, nevermind that. Just...ask, okay? I mean it when I say you can talk to me."
"I think I got it this time. And if I start to screw up, I have the threat of an ass-kicking looming over me to keep me in line."
"Damn right you do," and he could hear her feral grin. "'Night, Yosuke."
"Goodnight, Chie."
The call ended, and he leaned against the boxes for a few more moments. He did feel a lot...clearer. Cliche, maybe, but it was really like a burden was off his shoulders. Now he just had to remember to try to keep his head on straight, and remember that he didn't have to keep everything bottled up. Besides, once they were done yelling at each other, it really was good to talk to Chie. | 2148ca792a814b188b7ff28069063405 | ['69e375c9d7d54f2aba8df6fa51a206ef'] |
Holding On To What's Important
**Author's Note:**
> Sort-of kind-of something that fits in and around the Magician Social Link Rank 9 events--which wasn't entirely planned when I started it, but that's where it seemed to go. Like an extended multi-day event remix of Social Link Rank 9, I guess! I wanted to write something that acknowledged how important Saki was to Yosuke, and I wanted to write partners being all sappy emotional, and it just so happened that I wrote both these things in the same fic.
"Sometimes I wonder if falling for someone else would be like, I dunno, like an insult to Saki’s memory."
Souji tilted his head toward Yosuke, mildly surprised at the sudden statement. “Why would it?” he asked.
Yosuke was looking out over Inaba from where they stood at the overlook, but he seemed to be preoccupied more with his thoughts than the view. He sighed, his expression growing even more far-off. “I dunno. Like it might mean she wasn’t so important to me, if I moved on too soon, or whatever.”
He knew he was going to have to tread lightly. Yosuke was coming to terms with the death of the girl he’d cared for, but it was obvious that he still hurt. “She was important to you,” he stated quietly. “That doesn’t change just because you meet someone else. When you care about someone like that, they’ll always be important. That’s not something that gets erased just because later on there’s someone else you care about in the same way.”
There was silence after his words, and Souji willed himself to be patient and let his partner think it over. After a few more moments of just the wind in the trees, Yosuke sighed, bracing his arms against the railing and hunching over. “It just feels like it’s not right, somehow. Well, more like people would judge me for it, I guess.”
"Who would judge you?” he asked, tilting his head. “It wouldn’t be any of us. You know we wouldn’t do that."
"Well, yeah,” Yosuke admitted. “I guess none of the team would. But there’s her brother, Naoki. Remember, he did kinda say he hates me. Even if that’s not really true, I mean, maybe he’d be upset if he found out I was seeing someone. Get mad at me for getting over Saki so fast. But I dunno.” He sighed, lowering his head. “I guess none of it makes sense, but it feels weird. Like I’d be betraying her somehow."
Souji was surprised at how frankly Yosuke was managing to talk about this. Previously, he’d say a few things, only to get overcome with emotion, have a small outburst, and then shut down. Perhaps he really was doing better in handling her loss. He swallowed and spoke carefully. “You know, I don’t think Saki wouldn’t want you to remember her by keeping everyone at arms length to prove that she was important to you. Obviously, I didn’t know her as well as you did, but she seemed like someone who wouldn’t want to see the people who care about her suffer for her sake.” Seeing Yosuke’s expression soften, he went on. “Plus, it sounds like a recipe for resenting her instead of remembering her. If you don’t let yourself get close because you don’t want to let anyone closer than her, well…”
Yosuke looked down and sighed. “Yeah. You’ve got a point. You’re right. It wouldn’t be fair to Saki-senpai. Or to me.”
"Or anyone who wants to get close to you.”
“Like there’d actually be anyone who wants that.” So often Yosuke’s self-deprecating remarks were lighthearted, a sort of preemptive effort to admit his shortcomings before anyone else could do so. But this had a sharp edge to it, unbalanced with any of his usual levity, and Souji looked at him with alarm as he gripped the fence railing and stared, unblinking, over the evening vista. His voice was rougher now. “She didn’t like me the way I liked her. I knew it, too, but I kept hoping that maybe she’d change her mind.”
Souji moved closer to his partner, looking into his eyes while Yosuke kept looking away. “Maybe she didn’t like you the way you liked her, but she did think of you as a friend,” he said, trying to sound calm and resolute despite his growing concern for Yosuke’s emotional state. “You know, you do have a lot of friends who care about you very much. And you’ve made some of those friendships in the time since losing Saki. I don’t think that took away from what she meant to you, did it? You still care about her even though she’s gone, and you care about other people you’ve met since then.”
Yosuke bit his lip and ducked his head down, turning away from his partner. He rubbed his eyes with one hand, the other still gripping the railing. “Yeah,” he started, his voice quavering, and Souji looked away from him as he cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he said in a stronger voice, “you’re right. I do have friends. And they haven’t taken away from how I feel about her.”
“You’re not alone,” Souji said, his voice firm. “And just because you lost someone who was really important to you, that doesn’t mean becoming close to someone else will undo that, or make it mean less to you. And no one should judge you for it, either,” he said with heat.
Yosuke looked at him in surprise, his expression softening. “Partner…”
“Sorry,” and Souji shook his head, swallowing against the pit in his stomach. “I guess I got a little worked up about it. Sorry, Yosuke.”
“No, it’s okay. You said some really great stuff.”
He smiled thinly. “As long as it helps. I was sort of getting off track a bit, I think.” |
246f7e2db5c646cab432c4f21b91f352 | ['69e453e76020472f88730bb206266ea9'] | There was no self-consciousness, no shame and no uncertainties or fear anymore. To Slaine it did not matter any longer he had only known Inaho for three days. Why care about the amount of days when they had found joy from each other so quickly? He did not care if Inaho made him feel awkward or embarrassed about himself. Why care about pride at all when there was no need to compete with each other? Slaine’s mind had been put into rest and it felt like a relief.
Inaho reached out a hand to caress Slaine’s chest lovingly.
“Thank you,” he whispered between his ragged breaths and closed his eyes. “Rest now and … go to sleep.”
Slaine rolled onto his side to get closer to the brunet and gave his shoulder a kiss.
“You too…” he whispered and they both drifted off to sleep.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> There is two more chapters to go with this one (I think) which will cover their little idiotic plan to sabotage for Governor Allusia.
>
> I hope you enjoyed this one and thank you for sticking with me this far!
>
> *Pirooting = Old western slang for sexual intercourse (according to a source I have now lost...)
6. The (almost) Honest Bandit
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Slaine's first day as a bandit has come and he nervously approaches the gates to Governor Allusia's mansion grounds. His courage and confidence begins to falter but Inaho's promise from earlier that day gives him determination to go through with his plan.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sorry for the horrible delay. A lot of things happened in life and I have just begun to feel well enough to be able to (somewhat) concentrate on my projects. As consolation, here you have an extra long chapter.
> (Chapters for the AFWE-fic is also on their way, but expect it to take a little while longer.)
>
> I hope you enjoy.
>
> Ending song: The Heavy - How You Like Me Now?
It was early morning. He stood in front of the high gates which blocked his way into the courtyard of Governor Allusia’s mansion. Slaine swallowed hard as he closed in on the guards guarding the gates. He walked somewhat stiffly due to his and Inaho’s activities the night before and he was certain he looked like he had been horseback riding for ten days straight.
‘ _ I must look ridiculous _ ,’ he sighed and pulled his new hat lower over his eyes to protect them from the scorching sun. Yuki had provided him with a set of her own clothes for the time being; they were the right size due to both Slaine and Yuki being of the same height. Her hat was slightly bigger than Slaine’s though; the blond had felt a slight sting in his pride from having a smaller head than her. Why? He had no idea…
Yuki had dropped him off further down the street. She had accompanied Slaine on her horse which she called Mustang for the lack of a better name; it was a black horse which seemed to be of the aggressive type – much like Cruhteo’s horse Tharsis, which was the man’s pride and joy. Slaine on the other hand had gotten Mr. Craftman’s stolen horse as his own and called it simply Sky. It was a calm horse which suited Slaine’s temperament pretty well.
Finally he stepped up to one of the guards and felt somewhat unsure of what to say at first, and as the guard – who had a Colt Walker gun in his holster – turned his squinting eyes at him Slaine took a deep breath:
“I’m here to see Officer Cruhteo. I’m working for him as his gunman and he was supposed to arrive to Governor Allusia’s private home a couple of days ago along with Lady Allusia. Would you mind telling him Slaine Troyard is here?”
The guard stared at him with intimidating eyes and played with the handle to his gun before he turned around toward the gates and told a servant – who had been sitting in a little shed on the other side of the gates and wall – to inform Cruhteo what Slaine had just told him. While the servant was away doing his duty Slaine threw a glance over his shoulder and saw Yuki observe him from behind a corner in an alley. She stood like a man, leaning her back against the wooden wall of a store which had not yet opened its doors for customers. Her hat was lowered over her eyes to hide her identity and she discreetly nodded to him to let him know she would be waiting there with Mustang and Sky ready once Slaine had signaled her he was on his way back with the camera.
It took a while but when the servant arrived, someone was with him. It was the young lady who had made Slaine’s heart skip beats in his chest each time he saw her – but now his heart was completely calm with the skips and made a hard thump against his ribcage instead. Slaine got reminded about what he was about to do to her father.
“Oh, Slaine! You made it!” Lady Asseylum cried out and waited for the servant to open the gates so she could greet Slaine properly. The moment Slaine stepped through the gates she took both of his hands into hers and looked at him with a relieved gaze. “I was so worried. I thought you were killed by the bandit!”
A reassuring smile crept over his lips automatically. | 21c19d0915b745569c7f2e566ce2d990 | ['69e453e76020472f88730bb206266ea9'] | Further away, next to the flowerbeds and bushes hiding the brick walls surrounding the garden, Inaho saw his sister run after a wobbly little creature that was in full speed of exploring the surroundings. The child – who was 14 months old – was dressed in a baby blue shirt and white stockings. Her blonde hair was tied with a white ribbon that bounced on her head as she made an attempt to run, and Yuki quickly took a hold of her to keep her from falling.
“Whoops!” Yuki smiled and held the toddler up. “Be careful now, Maddie!”
Maddie, or Madelen as the little girl was named, pulled her hand away from Yuki’s; the child was strongminded and refused to let someone assist her more than she thought was necessary. The child was determined on discovering her surrounding by herself and Yuki let her walk around and only aided her if the girl was about to stumble over.
“Look at you! You found a pretty flower petal!” Yuki exclaimed with a childish voice and looked at Maddie with gleaming eyes as the girl had bent down to pick up a drifting petal of a yellow flower from the ground. The girl looked up at the flowerbed where tropical yellow flowers stood in full bloom, and began walking toward it. “Oh? You want to return the petal to the flower?” Yuki chuckled and hurried after her.
Inaho watched his sister and the child for a while. He could not help but to slightly raise the corners of his mouth to a smile. Yuki had been terrified of the child before she had grown accustomed to looking after her, and was now enjoying every second she got to play with her. It suited her, Inaho thought. The time Yuki had spent as a step-in nanny had made her softer as a person; she was not as pushy as she used to be and had matured a lot as well.
‘ _At least she’s on time to meetings now_ ,’ he thought amused, but was interrupted by Sakata’s voice:
“What took ya so long, boss?” he heard the male voice ask. “The plans went all right?”
“Yes. Everything is finished for tomorrow’s departure,” Inaho answered and looked up at Sakata who turned the steaks on the grill. The man still wore that obnoxious smile Inaho remembered from the moment he had hired him to work at the prison. And yet, no matter how much Inaho could not stand the cocky attitude of the man, he had to admit he was great influence on the traveling group of guards and royals. Sakata always knew how to lighten the mood and make people feel welcome and at home.
“That’s sweet! What time are we leaving?” Sakata asked and poked the potatoes that were loosely wrapped in tin foil.
“11:40 AM,” Inaho answered promptly while he gazed over the garden, trying to find the one he was looking for.
“Are you searching for him, perhaps?” a cynical female voice asked and Inaho’s gaze was caught by the woman who sat beneath the large parasol next to the glass table. Lemrina watched him with arrogantly raised eyebrows; she radiated authority – just like usual when Inaho was close by. Lemrina did not lower her magazine though, which was a sign for Inaho she was not picking at him this time; she would continue reading once their short conversation was over.
“Where is he?” Inaho inquired with the typical tone to his voice; emotionless and monotone.
“He is resting at the moment,” Lemrina answered with a wry smile and turned her gaze to watch her daughter and Yuki a little further away. “We were at the beach today, and we all got exhausted. He said he would take Vilhelm to sleep for a while before dinner.”
Before Inaho had had the time to answer he heard Sakata say:
“Hey, boss! Would you tell the missing Highnesses that dinner is almost ready?”
Sakata began to move the steaks to a baking dish standing next to the grill. No matter how much Inaho thought of the man as immature and annoying he had to admit Sakata’s barbecue was the best Inaho had ever had, and he looked forward to have dinner.
Inaho simply nodded and turned back into the house. He looked at the white painted wooden staircase leading up to the second floor where all the bedrooms were, and walked up the stairs. Immediately he located the room he was looking for; every room had the blinds pulled up except one. He stepped into the darkened room and could not help but to stop and look at the sight in front of him.
The Versian monarch was lying face down on the bed, dressed in a wrinkled blue shirt and ridiculously green board shorts. His blond hair looked like it had not been showered since he had returned from the beach, and it had dried into a splaying mess. An amused breath escaped Inaho as he stepped closer, sat down on the edge of the bed and gently brushed his fingers through the messy hair. It was rough from the dried salt water.
“Dinner is almost ready,” Inaho said quietly and heard a deep inhalation from the man.
“Hm?” Slaine opened his eyes just slightly and looked up at Inaho. He looked drowsy but smiled the moment he saw the brunet. “Welcome home,” he muttered tiredly and closed his eyes again as Inaho gently pulled his fingers through his hair, again and again to untangle it. “How did work go?”
“Everything is prepared for tomorrow,” Inaho answered softly. “The plane is scheduled to depart at 11:40 AM tomorrow.”
“That sounds great. Thank you for your hard work,” Slaine said and hugged the pillow tightly while he yawned, and then scratched the back of his neck. “I’m itching all over…” |
e5da6013a8eb457aa4454d4dd320c4a1 | ['69ea155ab12b4b9fae448f4927073fe1'] | They walked in comfortable silence back to the apartment, only letting go of each other’s hand so that Beth could unlock the main door. Daryl walked her inside and suddenly there were butterflies in Beth’s stomach. Daryl had his hands in his pockets, his eyes barely meeting hers from behind his hair, waiting for her next move.
“I’m glad I met you tonight, Daryl… you made me feel like less of a freak for not havin’ fun at the party.”
“You ain’t a freak Beth. You’re smart, y’know who you are.” The sincerity in his voice meant the world to her.
She smiled up at him. “I think that’s somethin’ else I’m still tryin’ to figure out to be honest.”
Daryl looked down at his feet for a second, like he was waiting for the right thing to say next. “What you was talkin’ about before, about makin’ stuff happen… think you gotta give yourself more credit. Lotsa people take a long time to figure out the difference ‘tween the real stuff and everything else.”
She couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face.
“Like which jelly beans are the good kind?” She laughed and swore Daryl actually smiled.
“’xactly.”
Beth sighed happily, feeling perhaps more content and at ease than she had in years. Standing on her tip toes and putting a hand on Daryl’s chest, she placed a light kiss on his cheek, his skin warm on her lips.
Daryl ducked his head and cleared his throat before looking up and meeting her eyes one last time. “G’night, Beth.”
Daryl turned and walked away and Beth felt an ache in her chest with every step he took. She already wanted to see him again and he hadn’t even left the building.
“Hey Daryl!” She couldn’t help herself.
He stopped and turned to face her, hands no longer in his pockets.
“I, uh…I hope I see you again, sometime.” Beth didn’t know how to say what she was feeling. “And, um, thanks, for…tonight. It meant a lot.”
Daryl just looked at her. Right at her. Beth’s heart was racing.
“I’ll see you ‘round Beth.”
When he was out of sight, Beth let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Beth couldn’t hear anything from inside the apartment and was glad to find that the party was over and everyone had gone home.
Beth dropped her things on the floor, toed off her shoes and got herself a glass of water before going into her bedroom and closing the door. Lying down on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, she kept going over and over what had happened.
Beth had been dreading the party, but just as quickly as she wrote the evening off, Daryl had turned it upside down. Beth had always heard people say that they ‘clicked’ with someone, but never understood what that meant until now. Beth was able to open up to Daryl immediately, telling him things that she had never said out loud, let alone to another person. He understood the way she felt, and didn’t judge her for the things she had shared with him.
Beth’s mind was racing and she didn’t want it to stop. She could hear Glenn and Maggie’s whispers from the next room and she smiled to herself. Beth didn’t know how to describe the way she was feeling, or what her night with Daryl had meant to her, but she knew that she was finally experiencing something real, and that was what mattered.
**Author's Note:**
> I apologize for any typos/grammar derps, I wanted to post it in a hurry before I lost my nerve and changed my mind. | a93db6a3df8c4960ae101f8c6c7a6ec9 | ['69ea155ab12b4b9fae448f4927073fe1'] |
Viva Las Vegas
**Author's Note:**
> My submission for the first week of Summer of Bethyl. This week's prompt was 'vacation'.
> Thanks to ultimatebethylficlist on tumblr for setting it up and arranging the prompts.
Of all places.. fucking Vegas.
His first time out of Georgia, and his tail-chasing, dope-running, thinks-with-his-dick, rolling-stone of a brother drags him to Las Vegas.
He doesn't even know where Merle is right now, not that he gives a shit. For the time being, all that matters is the glass in front of him, the bartender who finally gave up trying to chit chat and the fact that the hotel bar never closes. Nothing seems to ever close in this freak show of a city. If New York is the city that never sleeps, then Las Vegas is the city that never shuts the fuck up. Someone is always yelling about something, or singing. Everything has bells and whistles, flashing lights and there are people all over the goddamn place. It makes his skin crawl, like something is always touching him.
And then something is touching him.
He looks over his shoulder just enough to see her. Another thrill seeking housewife on the wrong side of forty, her overly manicured hand on his shoulder as she tries to regain her balance.
"Something I can help you with?"
It takes her a second to even notice him, and he instantly regrets acknowledging her when the look on her face changes from dazed and tipsy to interested and determined.
"Well look at you!"
She moves her hand from his shoulder to his neck and gives him a squeeze. He can feel her nails dig into his skin and he waves down the bartender. He's got a feeling that whatever is about to happen is going to involve more whiskey.
"Oh good idea honey, I know I could use another." She drops onto the stool beside him, slamming her empty glass on the bar.
He raises an eyebrow at her. "You sure about that?"
She smiles, practically licking her lips. "Well what do you know, bark and bite. I'm gonna like you sweetheart."
The bartender brings over their drinks and Daryl downs his in one shot.
"Sorry lady, I'm uh.. taken.."
If all she wants is a fuck, maybe she'll decide to move on if he can shut her down immediately.
"Taken? Really? And yet.." She looks around dramatically, waving her arms and practically falling off her barstool. "Here you are, all by yourself."
"My, uh.." He clears his throat. He's never been a good liar. "Girlfriend. My girlfriend is upstairs, getting ready. Taking her out tonight."
"Alright, sure, fine.. be a shame if you had to wait here all alone, though.. don't you think?"
He doesn't know what to do now so he keeps his mouth shut, flagging down the bartender again for good measure.
"So where are you taking that girlfriend of yours, hm?"
He'll give her credit. She's either not as drunk as she seems or he really is a shit liar, but he can tell she isn't buying it.
"We, uh.. one of those, uh.. the.."
He figures he's as good as busted when he feels another hand on his shoulder and he hopes to god it isn't another one. Hell, he hopes it's Merle.
He whips his head around to meet his fate and there she is. Blue eyes and blonde hair, kissing him on the cheek and whispering in his ear.
" _You can still get out alive but you have to play along_."
She grabs his hand, which she holds on top of the bar. He stays still, shell shocked, like he just got sucked in and spat out by a tornado. A beautiful, blonde tornado. Saving his damn life. Or at the very least his night.
"Hi babe! I hope you haven't been waiting long.."
Her voice is practically dripping honey it's so damn sweet and he'd be tempted to laugh if he wasn't still trying to catch up to the situation. She squeezes his hand, urging him to keep up.
"Uh, no, not long at all. You look nice."
That last part just slips out and he's not even sure if he says it out loud or if he's seeing straight, but he thinks she might be blushing.
She's wearing a white sundress and red high heels. She's a breath of fresh air in this fucking place. An open window - one he'll either fall through head first or throw himself out of with a running start.
"Ahem."
The sound from the other woman brings him back to earth. He looks from her to the blonde and back again.
"This is my girlfriend, uh.."
"Beth! It's so nice to meet you. How do you two know each other?"
Her smile is a mile wide and he wants to hide in it and get away from this place. The other woman nods her head slowly, arriving somewhere between acceptance and resignation.
"We were just having a drink."
Beth puts her other hand on his forearm, rubbing it back and forth while giving the woman one final eat-your-heart-out smile.
"Thanks for keeping him company until I got here. I hope you have a great evening."
And just like that, with a click of her nails on the bar, the woman gets up, takes a second to steady herself and walks away.
Beth doesn't let go of his hand until she walks out the front door of the hotel.
"Jesus Christ, girl."
Beth laughs, hiding her face in her hands, and it's the best thing he's heard all weekend.
"You saved my ass, you know?"
"I saw her stumbling over to you, and then I couldn't help but overhear just how terrible you are at lying.. I couldn't help but intervene. I'm sorry, I know this was probably weird."
"Sorry? Hell, wish you'd've gotten here sooner, saved us both the trouble."
She laughs again and catches the bartender's attention. |
1ce581d0925c46cc80d0e866d0ae8e42 | ['69f154adef4d40ab88c7eeca02afd29d'] | To boldly go where sleeping Reapers lie
“Well, what do we have here?” Kirk asked as he walked to his chair. As Spock turned to answer, there was something on his face - but Kirk couldn’t put his finger on what.
“It is most peculiar, Captain. A ship seems to be hailing us with short-range transmissions while the radars clearly state that there are no ships within that range. I am running diagnostics on both systems for errors, but I am unable to determine the source of this anomaly.”
So he was enjoying this. Great.
“That’s nice, Mr. Spock, but what are they saying?”
“The signal claims the ship to be the SSV Normady with the Systems Alliance.”
“Never heard of it. Open the channel!”
A red-haired woman appeared on the screen, wearing what seemed to an armored uniform with an N7 marking on it. She seemed human, which was good. At the same time, she also seemed military, which could be very, very bad. Hopefully not renegade-romulans-from-the future-here-to-destroy-the-timeline bad, but still.
“This is James T. Kirk of the starship USS Enterprise. Who am I speaking to?”
“Commander Shepard, captain of the SSV Normandy. Your ship is really hard to track down.”
“You are looking for us, then?” Kirk asked while glancing over to Sulu’s display to check again if their shields were up.
“We are on a vital mission. Entire human colonies are vanishing, and we’ve uncovered evidence that not only the act is carried out by a mysterious race of the Collectors, but they are merely slaves of an ancient race of starship-sized…” It didn’t take long for Kirk to get lost in the explanation packed full of Reapers, Geth, Collectors, Mass Relays and who-knows-what-else. He’d given up at following the story, and only focused himself enough to comprehend what the redhead was saying at her summary “...I am building a team to stop this threat. We will strike at their HQ, and hopefully prevent a race of sentient machines from returning and wiping out intelligent life in the galaxy.”
Kirk was silent only for a few moments before he promptly begun to address his crew in the cockpit. “Mr Sulu! Please plot a course to the nearest Federation base with long-range communications! Mr Spock, as acting captain in my absence, your orders are to report this situation to HQ, and bring us any and all reinforcements they can give...”
Shepard stopped and blinked a few times before taking an apologetic tone.
“Oh- The truth is, that we are here to recruit Mr. Spock, as I am in need of a science officer, and according to his dossier, he is the best there is. ”
Shepard could only judge by the reaction of the Enterprise’s crew, but it seemed Kirk was not often left this dumbfounded and speechless...
**Author's Note:**
> I was showing the ME series to a friend, and when we got into a discussion over whom should Shepard pick for such a dangerous mission. After rewatching ST a short while later, it hit me: what if Kirk wasn't the one the Normady's crew needed? | 2eaa35c25f284772832a2acedb5263a1 | ['69f154adef4d40ab88c7eeca02afd29d'] | eleMental
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> This is my first attempt at a fan fiction, don't take it too seriously. Just watched the Riddick films, a few months after the Craig-007 films, and when I saw Judy Dench, I suddenly heard her voice as M: "007, what took you so long?"
The Lord Marshal marched slowly and triumphantly towards the body he just threw across the hall. He was confident in his victory, having the upper hand in the fight. This was the final challenge in his way; if the last survivor of that forsaken planet Furya is finally dead, no more obstacles could come between him and the Underverse. "These are his last moments." he exclaimed.
Riddick tried gasping for air as he lay on the floor. The necromonger had to die. For Furya. For Kyra. He wasn't sure about the girl, but the meeting of another converted – one of his own kind, no less – on Crematoria promised some hope that she could be freed from the necromonger ideas. And Kyra was a tough girl, and almost as stubborn as a furyan. Hell, she could even be her sister! The only problem was, this Lord Marshal guy fought as if he was in two places at once, as if he was two enemies instead of one. And fighting an enemy with this level of strength and skill was challenging, but two at the same time... almost certainly lethal. He had to come up with something, and fast.
As the Lord Marshal arrived, Riddick was prepared for a number of attacks, but didn't know how to defend from the spirit-hands that grabbed his head, and tore something blue, a gleaming shade of a head from his body.
"Give me your soul!" the Lord marshal shouted.
The furyan struggled, and tried to free himself from the strange grasp. As he gathered his strength to strike back and overpower the necromonger, his efforts were interrupted by two loud, banging noises. The strangle that held him fell effortlessly, and as he looked at the Lord Marshal's face, he saw a bleeding hole on the forehead. As the Furyan stood up, the necromonger fell to the ground, lifeless. His powers might have made him half-alive, but now he was most certainly dead.
When he finally looked around and saw the attacker, he couldn't help but to wonder how he managed to escape this notice until now – among the metal uniform of the soldiers observing the fight stood a man in a suit that has gone out of fashion centuries before, holding the antique gun with both hands, clear, blue eyes looking down the sight, and the barrel still smoking.
When the new arrival was sure his target wouldn't move again, he let the gun down and began looking at the crowd until he found the elemental upstairs.
"Double-o-seven, you are bloody late! Would you mind explaining what kept you so long?" asked the elemental with an edge. Her tone made Riddick smile; if it was any sharper, she would cut herself with it.
"I was delayed, Ma'am."
"You were out of the picture for so long, I had to execute so many contingency plans that I lost count. Hell, I even made up a prophecy. But now that you're back, I expect a full report of the last few years' events first thing tomorrow morning. Dismissed." |
3f3bedbc60da401792715919cce5d82d | ['69f9cf948e16408681a69e93d3c22d7d'] | He hits him. Hard. Alec hits him and pushes Jace off of him, rolling onto his feet and going at him again, all the frustration and anger and hurt oozing out of him in nervous, erratic, aggressive adrenaline that throws punch after punch at him, kicks and throws him around. He’s not holding back and if he wasn’t so _angry_ at him he’d be scared at how Jace is the only one of the two holding back. That’s also what allows Alec to get the best of him.
He’s got Jace on the floor, and a seraph blade to his neck.
Alec’s heart hammers in his chest and just like Jace, he can’t control his breathing.
“Do it.” Jace says, and there’s something raw in his eyes as he stares up at Alec. His legs keep moving and his hand catches his arm, pushing the blade further into him, “do it!” he shouts, all out of control, eyebrows pulled up in his forehead. Alec’s lips are in a tense tight line, his hand shaking – he doesn’t know which one of the two of them is the one holding the blade back anymore.
“I don’t wanna be alive if we’re on different sides, Alec,” Jace tells him and that look on his eyes – he means it. Alec believes him.
And it hits him, what he’s doing. He’s got a seraph blade to _Jace’s neck_. His hammering heart is screaming at him and he doesn’t know anything anymore – he doesn’t know what he wanted with all this, with fighting Jace, _he doesn’t know._ Fighting Jace – _why is he fighting his parabatai? -_ instead of being by his side, when, _where_ did things go so wrong Alec lost the notion of where his place is, when did he forget it’s by Jace’s side?
His fingers feel numb as he sits back down, hand shaking and still gripping the seraph blade he was just holding against his parabatai’s neck. Jace gets up and Alec can’t look at him.
“Come with me,” comes his voice, gentler but all out of breath. Alec is left just staring at the floor, Jace’s voice at his ears but his brain only half processing what he’s saying.
When did Alec lose himself? When did he first allow his feelings to overpower him like they just did?
“We’ll fight Valentine the right way,” Jace is telling him. Alec finds himself thinking in a fleeting moment that, for the first time in a long time, he’s around Jace and his full attention isn’t on him. He feels numb. It’s odd.
So instead he finds solace in logic, because logic is safe right now, “If we do that,” he starts, stops a second without taking his eyes from the floor to take a couple of breaths, “we’ll be considered traitors like Mom and Dad.”
_Like Mom and Dad._ He’s repeating to himself, _like_ our _mother and_ our _father._ Jace is his brother, Jace is his parabatai first and before anything else, Jace is… _family._ When did he lose sight of that?
“I’m begging you, _my parabatai_ ,” Alec almost looks up at that, almost fixes his eyes on Jace’s but he keeps staring at the ground instead, “my _brother.”_
_My brother_ , it echoes inside Alec’s head and he _knows, he knows_ , doesn’t want to, but _he knows_ that’s what Jace sees when he looks at him, that’s what Jace wants from him and that used to be what he trained his mind to think of Jace as well, forget the heart, _forget my heart, when did I forget to keep it quiet?_
“ _Please,_ Alec,” Jace begs, “come with me!” Alec does look up then. He stares at Jace’s face and the beat his heart skips when he takes in Jace’s face is a bit of the answer he seeks in that moment.
The silence stretches for just a second, and Alec considers what Jace asks of him – has to keep his heart in check because it’s _screaming_ at Alec to get up, take Jace’s hand and go, follow him to the ends of the Earth, to Hell, to Purgatory, to wherever his parabatai wants and needs him to be and. And, Alec realizes, that’s his answer.
He lost himself _in Jace_ ; in his _feelings_ for Jace.
Alec’s a soldier – he needs to get himself back. So he answers, “No.”
The look on Jace’s face shatters whatever was left intact inside of him but he holds Jace’s gaze even if his chest is aching so bad he feels like the simple act of breathing is harder than any exercise of his training. Not a single word leaves Jace’s mouth and when he moves out of there, leaving Alec there alone, he closes his eyes, feeling like something there, the _something_ between them that used to be so sacred and precious is damaged.
For a moment he swears he can physically feel it in the rune on his hip, the one Jace has as well in the exact same place.
* * *
He keeps thinking about it too. His rune. _Their_ rune. He’s walking around the institute thinking of solutions, he needs _solutions_ for all of this mess and he’s rubbing at the mark on his hip unconsciously.
Alec needs solutions because suddenly everything is upside down and he doesn’t know where Jace is, he needs to get Izzy out of that high treason mess, he needs to find that _goddamned_ Mortal Cup, he just… he needs _solutions._
When the solution does present itself in the rune he’s been rubbing at, he could almost laugh at how stupidly poetic the whole thing is. If he did laugh it would be humorless and bitter and out of place with the turmoil of revolted helplessness he feels. | 1617ce8609404ee3ba23c04895cd8237 | ['69f9cf948e16408681a69e93d3c22d7d'] | “Next time,” he whispers against them. His hand drops and without turning away from Stiles he reaches for the handle of the driver’s door. “There’s a little sex devil in you, Stiles,” he says, smiling at Stiles as he opens the door. “I intend on making it come out to play with me properly,” with the dirtiest, cheekiest most provocative wink Stiles has ever seen, Theo gets in his truck and closes the door to start the car.
It takes him a second of watching as the truck maneuvers to leave to collect his thoughts. They’re not very coherent right now, and amongst the general _what the hell just happened_ and replays of the whole ordeal that make his gut turn and his cheeks heat up he does make himself start towards his jeep. That was _a lot_ he just found about himself and his… likings. And he doesn’t really want to admit, but Theo’s promise makes that buzz in his blood return with a hint of excitement that almost converns him.
He’s halfway on the way to his jeep when suddenly “Stiles?” a voice calls, and Stiles stops startled, jerks his head around.
Liam’s there. _Liam_ , looking at him confused with worried eyebrows rising up in his forehead and two gym bags in his hands. Two gym bags?
“Stiles, your bag-” he says rising, yes, _Stiles’_ gym back. Fuck, he dropped it and totally forgot about it. “What are you still doing here?” Liam asks, all confusion.
Stiles mouth opens and closes as he’s searching for the words. Shit, shit, shit, what did Liam see? Did he see- Once again Stiles’ head jerks around to the entrance of the parking lot; Theo’s truck is already making its way down the road. “I-uh,” Stiles starts, looking back at Liam again. He decides to just walk towards the kid to take his bag and shove his incriminatory shirt inside. “What are _you_ still doing here?” turning the question around seems like a valid choice.
Liam gestures vaguely to the school building, “Went with Mason uh-, he had my homework and my mom’s coming to pick me up-” Liam sounds confused, looking at Stiles’ chest. He squints and Stiles frowns back equally confused.
“Is that-” Liam starts, “are you wearing a Devenford Prep shirt?”
Stiles feels his blood leave his face as he looks down at himself. He is indeed wearing a Devenford Prep shirt. Oh shit. Oh _shit_ , that bastard.
“Where did you get that?” Liam asks, even more confused. Gripping the strap of his gym bag, Stiles puts it over his head across his chest and looks at Liam again. Fuck, he’s so fucked. Reaching into his pocket he grabs his keys. How is he supposed to get out of this one?
“I-uh,” nothing, absolutely not a single explanation that doesn’t involve the words _I almost fucked their team’s pretty boy_ comes to mind, and when those do, the heat goes back creeping up his neck to his cheeks. “I found it on the floor,” Stiles says rising his eyebrows, then turns around to practically run to his jeep. “What-?” the younger boy starts, but Stiles throws a loud “Goodnight, Liam!” over his shoulder as he reaches his jeep before finally opening the door and throwing his gym bag in, getting inside himself. He sighs. He’s so lucky that wasn’t Mason.
With both hands gripping the wheel, he looks at the rearview mirror at a very confused Liam shaking his head and moving slowly towards a car approaching on the other side of the street.
Stiles swallows and looks at himself on the mirror.
Well. _Fuck_.
**Author's Note:**
> LINK |
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