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fc9c441c68494d589f0a8b9956c5ae87 | ['6a1f8d62d8e34accaf4213e8863d47c3'] | Rookies stunned watching the scene, they had never imagined that someone else besides the Captain could have a discussion with Erwin; this was new. Dinner was as smooth as it were, except for the fact that Sasha swept all the food.
“What's wrong with her?” asked innocently Armin.
“She trains me with the Captain” he merely replied, ignoring certain information
“That woman gives me bad vibes” Mikasa said with the scarf covering her “I hope that goblin don’t want to transgress you”
“More respect to your superiors Ackerman, next time I’ll not be condescending” for first they thought it was the Captain who had spoken, but were surprised when it was Leah who spoke as she left the room.
“Your sister really looks at you in that respect” Erwin he said, taking a sip of his tea.
“No, you have not seen her angry” said Levi with the same face always “And I hope you never” and left the area.
At this point all new Survey Corps no longer knew what to say to what they had seen and heard; they tried to talk about other things until the commander ordered that it was time they went to sleep.
The information was given Leah would be helpful for both, especially for Eren; from that day the three trained from dawn to dusk and only rested at mealtimes and even though many superficial wounds ended with neither of the two men claimed for it because they knew they were giving training results. In addition, there were few times when they trained in his titan form and a few other times when not train because they had other matters to attend to. Time passed and the next expedition was already scheduled, the upper end had gathered to clarify doubts and give instructions.
“Well, I hope everyone knows what you have to do” Erwin spoke.
“I insist that it is too early for the rookies” Hange said.
“I think the same” Mike seconded.
“Leah?” the brunette called the woman who had not spoken throughout the meeting “What do you think?“
“Nobody is interested in my opinion” badly she said rising “Isn't so, Commander?” and left.
“What the hell was that?” Levi asked.
“She’ll not come to the expedition” said the blond “It's all you need to know”
No one expected this, the expedition itself needed the presence of all, didn’t understand why the commander decided to exclude it; something was wrong and just hoped it did not happen to be intuitions.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Even if no ones like my fic I'll finish it
6. Chapter VI
The day of the expedition had come, would be put to practice a new strategy would mean a decline in the death of soldiers but still very risky. Eren woke up in his room, he sat up and stretched. To turn his face he found a folded sheet in the box was bedside, took it in his hands and realized that it was a note.
_ Eren. _
_ Whatever happens you never forget to trust your teammates. In the Squad Levi, they are not only protecting yourself but also look after you, much more than they appear. I know it's hard to trust when everyone thinks you're a monster but note this: You're not. So trust. But most trusted Levi. Although it is a midget, grumpy, cranky cleaning is a loyal man you can trust your life. _
_ I wish you good luck and good return of the expedition. _
_ Lieutenant Colonel Leah Gautier. _
After reading the note Eren felt happy, the words she had given him much encouragement was given despite being nervous about his first expedition. He enlisted and went into the room thinking thank you for your words of encouragement. Upon arrival she could not find her anywhere.
“Have you seen the Lieutenant Colonel?” he asked to approach their friends.
“They say he left early” Armin answered “No one know where or when she comeback”
No one knew exactly what had happened to the woman; after she left the meeting with the leaders of the Survey Corps she locked himself in her room and didn’t leave until everyone had gone to sleep. And before the sun rose, she left the castle on horseback with her gear, as if thinking to hunt titans on her own, but this was not so.
Far from the castle, Leah rode at full gallop; she knew that was a few minutes the soldiers leave towards Karaness. Yet another concern was to find out why and was Erwin had decided to leave out of the expedition. She rode up to a river, dismounted and let her horse hydrate as the road had been long. She reached down to pick up some water in her hands and was about to drink it when
“No one thought you came down so fast your defense” heard a male voice behind her.
“It’s that so?” quickly drew a knife keeping some liquid in the other “I thought you knew me well enough to know that never under guard”
“Yeah, I thought I know, but I knew I'd leave a man of small stature” again said the man.
“What shit you say, Seth?” Leah stood up and faced the man No go out with your absurd jealousy the man who was there was their former leader.
“Why do not you want to comeback with me?” he asked slowly approaching.
“Apart from stupid, deaf” said placing his other hand on the other blade “I hate repeat myself twice”
Silence reigned in the room, neither again said nothing; they both studied each other's movements and tried to investigate what they really thought.
“Anyway, what are you doing here?” asked Seth.
'It's not your business” said the redhead.
“Of course, as you were left out of the expedition-”
“What the hell?” silver eyes widened in surprise revealing the truth “What in the fuck did that Erwin bastard?” | 0cee79e7c6b649eca1626e20d6cc9e09 | ['6a1f8d62d8e34accaf4213e8863d47c3'] | The newcomer Levi inspected from head to toe, like an intruder among them.
-Why are you here and why not remove glasses?- Mikasa spoke again.
-I have to go- said the raven -It's getting late-.
Levi helped by Eren rose and began to guide him toward the door when the girl stopped abruptly, causing both to fall on the other sofa, brown on the raven.
-Is Invalid or what?- she spoke again her.
\- Mikasa Ackerman!- said his annoying brother -Stop judging people!-.
When Eren turned his face to help his companion realized that his lips had been very close.
-Co-could you help me?- Levi asked a nervous feel the closeness of his partner.
The youngest got up and helped the other to do the same, led him to the door and left a moment alone apologizing for leaving his keys; returned to the small room where Mikasa had been standing watching the scene before her.
-Before you start with your jealous rages clarify that he is blind- murmured very annoying the brunette -So I hope you don't try again as well or be angry with you-.
Without giving her time to answer, Eren returned with his companion, took his arm and sat on his, they went quietly department.
-Sorry about that- said Eren distressed -Do you live close?- .
-Don't worry, there will always be people like that- Levi comforted -And I live closer than you imagine-.
The raven reached the department and it was then that he realized what he had said .
-Tomorrow I don't have classes- he spoke - If you want we can start the project-.
-Sounds good to me- said the other.
-Then see you tomorrow, Eren- Levi said.
-See you tomorrow- and Eren couldn't help hug him and then run his department.
The raven was static at the contact, he felt warm and full of peace; when the boy was felt his essence had been steeped in it. Now one thing was sure, that was essentially what it going completely crazy. |
cc572c200ae34344b9b738dd15c3a20a | ['6a2c96ab87794a0a8edec56afa902588'] | Victor was released from the hospital a day later. Yuuri had followed the doctor’s advice and ran out the night before to buy several button down shirts, for ease of dressing. Victor grimaced and grit his teeth as Yuuri removed his sling gently and slid the short sleeved button down over and up his right arm. Just the task of supporting his own arm in that rigid position without the sling caused him agony. He fought against crying out as Yuuri quickly slipped his left arm into the short sleeve and buttoned the shirt before securing his sling on again.
When he could relax his arm into the sling again, he took a deep breath through his nose and let it out, opening his watery eyes as he did so. Yuuri was watching the emotion and pain flit across his features carefully, with tears glistening in his own eyes. “I’m--” He took another deep breath to steady his shaking voice. “I’m fine, Yuuri, no need to look like that, okay?” He attempted one of his beautiful, heart-stopping smiles, but it felt dull and pained even to himself.
Yuuri blinked his tears back and attempted a watery smile and chuckle in return. “Let’s go home.” Victor stood, and Yuuri helped him shrug one arm into his coat, draping the other side over his injured shoulder before handing him a pair of dark sunglasses. “I would have liked for this to be as private as you wanted it to be. But there’s bound to be reporters out there. I’ll be beside you no matter what. I’m ready when you are.”
Stealing himself, Victor turned abruptly and made his way out of the room almost defiantly, Yuuri scrambling to grab his bag and follow him. While Victor checked himself out at the front desk in the lobby, Yuuri went ahead to pull the car around and perhaps avoid some of the reporters that had gathered around the main entrance of the hospital.
As he made his way back inside to fetch Victor, several reporters began shouting and shoving microphones in his face.
“Mr. Katsuki, Mr. Katsuki! Is Victor Nikiforov really retiring?”
“Is it true that Victor won’t be skating this season?”
“What can you say about the rumors that Mr. Nikiforov will never be able to skate again?”
The black-haired man bowed his head and made a beeline for the door, saying nothing. When he and Victor exited together, they were surrounded by flashing cameras and reporters calling questions out on all sides. At least a dozen cameras were filming them.
“Victor! How are you feeling?”
Victor seemed to slip into his element when faced with the publicity. Although his glasses were dark enough that his eyes couldn’t be seen--something Yuuri had done on purpose to hide how tired his lover looked--the silver haired man cocked his head and gave a large smile, much more convincing than before. “I’m sore, but doing great otherwise, thank you for asking.”
“Mr. Nikiforov, what happened? What is the extent of your injury?”
Victor tossed his head back, silver hair shining in the pale sunlight. “It was just an incident in practice. I’m confident I’ll heal quickly and be back on the ice in no time.”
“Please tell us, does that mean the rumours of your retirement are false?”
“Truthfully, I can’t say quite yet. I do need to take my time to recover properly, I’m sure you understand.”
“Is there any truth in the rumor circulating that your injury has put a hold on your marriage to Yuuri Katsuki?”
At this, Victor’s smile softened, and he reached out with his good arm to take Yuuri’s hand in his, bringing it to his lips and kissing his engagement ring. “Absolutely none. While I may have met Yuuri through skating, I have no intentions of such a thing coming between our love. I would marry Yuuri even if the world was falling down around us. Although, I think it’s safe to say that I’ll be out of this sling by the time we say our vows.”
Yuuri blushed furiously, smiling nonetheless, and hurried to open Victor’s car door. He offered a steady arm to help his fiancé into the car before circling around to the driver’s side. Once they pulled away from the hospital and were comfortably on their way home, the black-haired man spoke. “I can’t believe you said that. That quote is going to be plastered all over the place by tonight.”
Victor had removed his sunglasses and tucked them in his jacket pocket. A coy smile played at his lips as he glanced at his lover. “I only told the truth. Should I not have?”
Yuuri’s blush deepened. “Well… Well, it’s not like I don’t want you to! But you’re always just so… so…” The silver-haired man leaned over in a slightly awkward position and kissed the younger man on the cheek. “So _Victor_ about it!” Yuuri finished, practically wailing.
“You like that about me though, no?” Victor chuckled.
His black-haired lover scoffed before murmuring, “You know I love everything about you.” He paused for a moment. “I just don’t proclaim it in a ridiculously romantic way to every reporter within earshot so that it can be spread around the world like wildfire.”
At this, Victor attempted mock outrage. “Excuse me? You have, too, Mr. I-Don’t-Know-What-These-Feelings-Are-But-I’ve-Decided-To-Call-Them-Love! On national television, in Japanese, I might add! I didn’t know what you were saying until later, did you even think about that? Your family sat and listened to you confess your love for me, and I sat there babbling about that hideous tie.” Victor paused for a moment, composing himself, as though the memory still brought him intense indignation.
Yuuri’s face flushed once again and he clenched the steering wheel tightly, voice wavering slightly. “You’re one to talk! You kissed me for the first time on live, international television!” | 27715133b6804ae78ec66854fd27000c | ['6a2c96ab87794a0a8edec56afa902588'] | Yamaguchi had stopped crying by now, but was still hiccoughing loudly. At his boyfriend’s words, a small flash of fear crossed his face. It passed quickly, and the brunette closed his eyes, stealing himself to do something. He shrugged his jacket off and pulled his shirt over his head, wincing and hissing as he did so. Tsukki’s jaw dropped.
Yamaguchi’s rib cage was decorated with a spectacularly large bruise. It appeared to still be blooming under his skin, angry and red, already turning a faint purple in some places. It wrapped around his side, from the edge of his back to about his sternum, starting at the bottom of his rib cage and stretching to his nipple.
“What happened?” Tsukki asked numbly.
“My dad… kicked me. I came out to my mom earlier today, around dinner time. Dad wasn’t home, so I was going to tell him later. Well, she told him when he got home from work… It turns out my dad really hates gays.” He attempted a feeble laugh that turned into a sob, then a hiss. “Dammit!”
Tsukki felt numb. “He did this to you?”
“Yes.”
Tsukki closed his eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his emotions down and thinking. Should he wake his mother up? No, she had work early in the morning, and he doubted she could do anything anyways. Tomorrow was Saturday. Yamaguchi would spend the weekend with him. Right now, he had to take care of Yamaguchi. He pulled his phone out and quickly searched ‘bruised ribs.’
“Can you still take deep breaths?” he shot off.
Yamaguchi inhaled deeply and winced. “Yes, but it hurts.”
“I need to feel them. Will you let me?” Yamaguchi looked apprehensive, but nodded his head. Tsukki kneeled in front of him, running his fingers as gently over Yamaguchi’s side as he could. It felt slightly swollen, but there were no protrusions or dents, which was good. They probably weren’t broken, only bruised, or at the most, cracked. In either case, a hospital visit couldn’t help anything. The page said that a hospital visit was only necessary if a broken rib was suspected or breathing deeply was unbearable. “Stay here,” he ordered.
He hurried down to the kitchen where he snatched a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and wrapped them in one of his mother’s softer dish towels. He returned to Yamaguchi and instructed him to lay down on his injured side with the makeshift compact. Yamaguchi vehemently objected.
“It needs to be iced for seventy-two hours to reduce pain and swelling and help the bruised tissue heal quicker. Laying on your injured side is actually supposed to make it easier to breathe. I’m getting you painkillers now.”
After setting the other boy up with the ice pack, he fetched him some ibuprofen from the bathroom, and a glass of water. When he returned,Yamaguchi had changed into the pajamas he’d been given.
“Here.” Yamaguchi took the pills and swallowed them with a gulp of water, before attempting to lay down on his bruised side. Several gasps and hisses later, he was settled in and as comfortable as he could get. Extremely careful not to jostle his partner, Tsukki clicked the light off and crawled slowly into bed behind Yamaguchi.
“Do you want to talk any more about it?” Tsukki asked softly.
“No,” Yamaguchi sighed. “Crying hurts. And there isn’t really much more to talk about.”
“You can probably stay with us. Akiteru’s room is empty and my mom--”
“What are you talking about?” Yamaguchi asked, sounding genuinely confused.
Tsukki paused. “You weren’t thinking of going back there, were you?”
Yamaguchi shifted slightly and hissed. “Of course I have to go back. I can't just run away from home. They’re my parents.”
“Yamaguchi, your dad could have broken your ribs tonight because you came out of the closet and you’re saying you have to go back because they’re your parents? Parents don’t beat the hell out of their kids just because they find out they’re gay!” Tsukki immediately regretted his angry outburst. He felt Yamaguchi shaking against him, heard him sniffling.
“I-I know, Tsukki! I know, okay? But what else can I do?”
“Stay with me, you idiot!” Tsukki said, sounding angrier than he was. At Yamaguchi, at least. He didn't think he’d ever hated another human being the way he hated Yamaguchi’s father right now.
The brunette’s sniffling quieted. “We’re still three years away from being considered adults, Tsukki. I can’t just move out. You and your mom could get in trouble. It could get a lot worse. What would happen if I wasn’t allowed to see you anymore?”
After a long silence, Tsukki quietly asked, “What will you do then?”
“I’ll stay. I don’t really have another choice. But,” Yamaguchi continued, speaking into the dark, “As long as I know I have you, I’ll be fine.” Tsukki’s heart broke, and in that moment, he wondered which one of them was in more pain.
________________________________________________________________
**Three Years Later**
Tsukki toyed with the small box in his pocket. This day had been coming for a long time, looming on the horizon, much anticipated. His stomach was doing somersaults and his hands were shaking from nerves.
He had decided shortly after the incident in which he tended to Yamaguchi’s bruised ribs that he wanted to be a doctor. During high school, he had decided to attend one of Japan’s most prestigious medical colleges. When he was admitted -- with outstanding test scores, no less -- he moved six hours away from home. Yamaguchi, with his heart set on becoming a therapist, attended a university close to Tsukki’s so that they could be together. Since they had started college, they had shared a small apartment roughly in the middle of their two schools. |
084c7da247e4475d92d8e11747e2b9a0 | ['6a566dc654e04e32a4c3a903512adb5a'] | Choosing to ignore the offending plant, Spock stepped onto the transporter and stood at parade rest as he waited for the Captain. When Kirk arrived, his eyes darted quickly between Spock and the mistletoe hanging over Spock’s head. A strange smile quirked on Kirk’s face and was gone in an instant, but he made no comment save ”energize.”
Spock had hoped that Floe I would be more interesting in person than the preliminary reports had made it out to be, but this was not to be. They appeared in the midst of a snow-covered mountainous region that had been marked by Starfleet as an “area of potential interest for settlement.” Spock highly doubted that such interest would remain after their report, had it ever truly existed in the first place.
Kirk seemed to have arrived at a similar conclusion, if the disgusted look on his face was any indication. “Well this is just great. Totally worth our time, right, Spock?” He reached down and scooped up a glove full of snow. “Look, we have our sample. All done. Let’s get out of here.”
Spock commended himself for keeping the exasperation out of his voice when he replied, “Captain, we are both well aware that you possess sufficient intelligence to comprehend the basic methodology of specimen collection, despite your numerous attempts to provide evidence to the contrary.”
“Whatever, Spock. Do your thing with the kit. I’ll be here standing guard and freezing my ass off.”
Spock unpacked his specimen collection kit and then glanced over at Kirk. He was gratified to see that, despite the lackadaisical attitude his captain insisted upon projecting, Kirk had his phaser at the ready and was scanning their surroundings, pursuant to Standard Safety Protocol 24.4.
It wasn’t that Spock failed to comprehend Kirk’s annoyance; it was simply illogical to dwell on it in the face of direct orders from Starfleet Command. Better to accomplish the admittedly low-priority task with optimal efficiency so as to return to the ship in as timely a manner as possible. Then Kirk could occupy himself with the holiday party for which he was so eager.
Spock understood the human need to create occasions in which it was socially appropriate to “let loose,” but personally, he felt something akin to dread at the idea that he would be obligated to attend the event. The captain, of course, was in his element in crowds and noise and chaos, his bright eyes and charming smile attracting others to him like a gravitational field. Any time they had both attended a party, Spock stood awkwardly in a corner while Kirk drank and danced and, when the night began to wind down, approached some attractive stranger to whisper in their ear and take their hand and lead them to a more private location. Spock was certain tonight would be no different and the thought made him uncomfortable for reasons he preferred not to explore.
“I think it’s safe to say it’s on securely by now, Commander.”
The captain’s voice startled Spock from his reverie. Spock came back to himself to find that the samples had been collected and he was in the midst of screwing the lid on the container so tightly that the plastic was beginning to strain. Kirk was smirking at him and Spock chastised himself for allowing his mind to be so unfocused while completing an official task.
He rose abruptly and said in a clipped tone, “Perhaps I would not be required to overcompensate if I had even the slightest bit of help. Alas, my commanding officer did not see fit to provide me with the aid I requested.”
“Oh, come off it, Spock. If you’re going to call me an incompetent brat, man up and say it straight out.”
“That was not my intention.”
Kirk raised an eyebrow. “So much for Vulcans not being able to lie. Come on, pack it up, I’m calling Scotty to get us the hell off this icy deathtrap.
The captain flipped open his communicator to contact the ship. After three failed attempts that resulted only in static, he began pacing angrily.
“Are you certain the signal is correctly calibrated, Captain?”
“Yes, Commander, I know how to operate a damn communicator, thank you. Did _you_ check the atmospheric conditions beforehand to ensure we wouldn’t have a problem like this?”
“As you well know, Captain, there is no way to account for the potential of certain natural phenomena, such as ion storms.”
Kirk tried the communicator again and, this time, there was a burst of static and then Montgomery Scott’s voice came through, sounding tinny and far away.
“It’s happened again, Captain. The ion storm knocked out the transport capabilities and is workin’ it’s way to surface communications. We’re doin’ everything we can to get her back online...” He was interrupted by a loud crash in the background. “Dammit Keenser! Sorry, Captain. It may take, um, a while. Ye may want to consider findin’ some shelter for the time being.”
“Of course this is happening now, today of all days. Why am I even surprised?” Kirk grumbled.
“Captain, there should be…” There was another loud burst of static. “…cave just….” More static. “…klicks northwest. We’ll…” His voice was then completely overtaken by static and Kirk ended the call. When he tried to raise the chief engineer again, there was no response.
“Well, then. I guess we’re walking.”
Spock followed Kirk as he picked a path along the frozen, uneven terrain. After walking for 1.7 hours, he reflected that it was truly unfortunate that Mr. Scott had not been able to convey the exact distance they were required to walk before finding shelter. By Spock’s calculation, they had travelled 3.5 kilometers and his body temperature had already dropped a not insignificant .9 degrees Celsius. | 3b35617be2cf402483da9d04ac669aee | ['6a566dc654e04e32a4c3a903512adb5a'] | "It's not a big deal. Think it's pretty safe to say things wouldn't have worked out between us anyway."
"Still..."
On reflection, Steve should've kept his distance more. Bucky's girlfriends probably didn't appreciate having a sickly little hanger-on following them everywhere. But Bucky had always insisted that Steve come along and Steve had never quite figured out how to say no to him.
"Anyway," Bucky continued. "Everyone deserves to let off some steam – especially people in positions of authority. Shuri is the most brilliant person I’ve ever met and she’s more than capable of handling herself. Let her do what she wants to do. And then go a step further and think about following her example. When's the last time you left the palace for anything other than an Avengers mission?"
"Half the world disappeared. Are you seriously saying I should go clubbing?”
"Yes, absolutely. You have to find some way to relieve all that stress or you’re going to go crazy from it.”
“It may be too late for that.”
“Even more reason for you to get out. Go dancing. Let loose."
“I just don’t think that would be appropriate considering…”
“There’s always an excuse, isn’t there?” Bucky interrupted. “You always blamed never having any fun on your height or your illnesses. But you’ve been tall and healthy and muscle-y for what, five years now? Has anything changed?”
“I still haven’t found the right dance partner.”
“Steve. You’re 98 years old and half the universe has disappeared. At some point, you’ve got to accept that there’s a chance you never meet that perfect girl. So you better live in the meantime, or it’ll be too late to have a chance with anyone at all. You know?”
“Okay, okay. I hear you.”
“So you’ll go out and try to meet people?”
“I’ll consider it.”
Steve could swear he heard Bucky roll his eyes.
* * *
Steve had managed to avoid what were supposed to be his weekly check-ins with Secretary Ross for the last few weeks, but he hadn’t been able to find a good enough excuse today. So he stood with Rhodes in one of the palace’s telecom rooms, trying not to look as uncomfortable as he felt. From the moment the hologram appeared, Ross’s epression was even more sour than it usually was. Steve braced himself for a lecture.
“Captain Rogers. When we allowed you to re-take the mantle of Captain America, there were certain expectations of the role in place. To be frank, both myself and President Ryan have been disappointed in your performance to date. You are supposed to be a beacon of hope. I reviewed all your interviews from yesterday and you look miserable in every one of them.”
“I am trying my best to project positivity and confidence…”
“And I’m telling you that you need to do better.”
“Sir, I lost…”
“We all know who you lost, Rogers. The traitor and terrorist you betrayed your country for. Spinning that in the press was hard enough without you moping around like a grieving widow.”
“Just what are you implying?”
“I think you know very well what our concern is here.”
Steve glared and took a step closer. “You want to say it plain to my face?”
Rhodes hastily interrupted before Ross could take Steve up on that. “You know what? I think we all get the gist here and are past the point where further conversation is going to be particularly helpful. So, I’m going to go ahead and end the call, Sir.” He barely waited for Ross’s irritated nod before doing so.
Steve was still fuming when Rhodes finished fussing with the telecom equipment. “Can you believe him?”
“Look, they’re assholes, no getting around that. But they’re not entirely wrong about the image thing.”
“I have been trying my best to seem confidant and positive.”
“Got it. Is there, um, any way you could try a little harder? You radiate misery, dude.”
“I, for one, think it’s refreshing.”
Steve whirled and glanced around in alarm before spotting the raccoon who was called Rocket skulking in a corner.
Rhodes frowned. “Have you been there the whole time?”
Rocket ignored him and continued, “Every leader everywhere is all about projecting positivity. Like, I get it, they don’t want to whole world to up and kill themselves. But do they stop and think for a second that, just maybe, people want to know they’re not alone? That feeling despair doesn’t make them broken or unpatriotic or any of that bullshit?”
Rhodes tilted his head. “That’s surprisingly insightful for a ferret.”
“Listen, pal…”
Steve hastily stepped between the two. “You’re not wrong, Rocket. People do need someone like that. But that’s not the role Captain America was designed to fulfill.”
“Can you actually articulate what role that is?” asked Rocket. “Cause, if not, I kinda wonder what the point is of having it at all.”
* * *
“I’m still stuck on the fact that you even agreed to take on that mantle again in the first place. I thought you were done with all that?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Bucky,” Steve said irritably. “You said I should relax. That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
“So. Did you shave the beard?”
“I shaved the beard.”
“I don’t know. I kind of liked it. Made you look dark and mysterious. Maybe even a little dangerous.”
“And that was a good thing?”
“I guess that depends on whether you’re more into the upstanding boy scout you can bring home to ma or the sexy bad boy who might do you in an alley.”
Steve diligently did not allow the mental image of him and Bucky together in an alley invade his mind. Much. “And which type do you prefer?” |
8640d9bd5e984af28bfe3a1272c38e40 | ['6a7683e48a254cd4b16bf60ce3e4008d'] | “I like that idea,” Percy leaned down. Their noses were almost touching. Nico lidded his eyes, gazing at Percy’s beautiful ones as he reached to Percy’s smooth hair and tugged it down.
Their lips met in a soft, sensual kiss. Nico gasped against his lips, knowing that no matter what, he would never regret this. Percy was faltering in his moments, but a few seconds later began kissing back just as vehemently and enthusiastically. Nico wished Percy would just open his mouth for a French kiss.
Nico tugged and pulled at Percy’s hair headily, a feral desire in him blooming. He had never felt so… _needy_ before. Percy’s hands reached up his shirt to Nico’s stomach, palming his skin in a way that made Nico want to mewl or groan. He did gasp though, between kisses. Clothes felt unnecessary. He just wanted to feel skin and raw, raw pleasure.
Someone coughed in the background. Percy got off Nico with lightning speed. Nico stood still for a moment, panting heavily and trying to catch his breaths. His lips felt swollen, and he felt so unbelievingly _aroused_ —
Hazel smirked, looking at both of them with unsuppressed glee. She clapped her hands, grinning “Save all the sex till bedtime. You’ve got friends over,”
Nico muttered something along the lines of “ _Cockblockers,_ ” darkly, glaring at Hazel’s retreating back. He looked at Percy, who looked just as shaken as Nico was.
“That was great. I could get used to this,” Percy smiled fondly at him. Nico grinned back, “Yeah, I think I could too.”
X
“You look good in your skull pajamas,”
“Gods, stop teasing, Percy,” Nico playfully slapped Percy’s hands away, grinning as Percy kissed him on the lips again. They were sitting on the couch, having just completed an episode of Breaking Bad after Frank and Reyna said they would be late. Nico kissed Percy back on the lips, then on his cheeks, and finally snuggled into Percy’s cool embrace,
“I wish you’d stay the night,” Nico whispered. He felt Percy smile against his hair, kissing the top of his head. Percy was a lot touchy-feely today, and Nico absolutely loved it. He wished Percy was like this all the time.
“I wish too, Nico. But I don’t think I would be able to control myself with all of you looking so delicious—“
“Then, by any means, don’t,” Nico grinned at him “Kissing after _two_ dates… if you were any late I’d have thought you were celibate,”
Percy laughed hotly, and Nico felt the warming vibrations in his chest “Oh, thank the gods I’m not. I’d have missed kissing you, love.”
Nico chuckled as Percy buried his nose into Nico’s hair, but quickly lifted his head to see Will approaching. Nico’s mood took a sudden sharp downfall. Will was a good guy, but with Percy? It was going to end in a disaster.
“So, Percy Jackson, I hope I’m not interrupting anything important,” Will beamed fakely at Percy as he sat down opposite to Nico. Percy grabbed Nico’s hand tighter, glaring at the guy who interrupted his conversation.
“Whoa, don’t get your knickers in a twist;” Will held his hands up, the smile still not leaving his face, “I won’t do that in front of my hook-up,”
“Nice to meet you too, guy-who’s-in-love-with-Nico. You must’ve heard of me, guy-who-Nico-loves?” Percy ignored Will calling their relationship with a hook-up, but Nico didn’t miss the way his eyes changed like the weather, dark and furious.
Will stared at him amusedly, “Yeah. I have a name, you know,”
“I do. I just don’t want to use it,” Percy narrowed his eyes.
“Guys,” Nico said half-exasperatedly. Never in his life had he imagined that two boys would fight over _him_. He’d never thought of himself as important or worthy. And yet, here he was.
“You know, I’m better for him than you,” Will stated.
Percy looked at him seriously, “I am very well aware of that,”
Will put a hand on Nico’s shoulder almost possessively “You aren’t a good person.”
“I know that, too. I don’t think you’re here to point out the obvious.”
Nico stared as Will criticized Percy almost casually, and seeing the whole-hearted acceptance in Percy’s replies made his heart twinge. Why did Percy think of him as so little? Wasn’t he like the arrogant freak Nico had first met, or the confident guy he’d been in his home?
What side of him did he didn’t want anyone to see? Why did he have so many attitudes? Why did Nico felt so drawn to him even when he barely knew the guy?
“Guys. Stop,”
“I love Nico.” Will said.
“I love Nico too.” Percy insisted this time.
“I’ve seen all sides of Nico. I’ve been supportive through his good days and bad days. I’ve handled him at his worst. You, on the other hand, have never seen him when he’s having a bad day,”
“I plan to, forever,” Percy said, tugging Nico so the boy was almost on his lap “I love him more than anyone I’ve ever loved. He’s my soulmate,”
“Rubbish,” Will scowled at him “You’re cheesy and stupid, you know what. Do you _really_ believe in soulmates?”
“Those who don’t will never find theirs,” Percy snapped. Will glared at him.
“Can you even hear his stupid answers?” Will gestured to Percy as he looked at Nico “Can you even believe this shit?”
Nico growled low in his throat “Did you two ever, ever consider the fact that I am sitting right here? Did you two ever ask me who _I_ prefer?”
Silence ensued for some minutes, until Nico sighed tiredly and burrowed into Percy’s embrace “I like Percy, Will. You— I’ve told you I’m not romantically interested in you. I’m sorry. I really am. You’re a nice guy, but I’m just not into you.” | 2fa30afa947c4fe489087bebc4e1c278 | ['6a7683e48a254cd4b16bf60ce3e4008d'] |
**Author's Note:**
> First Part: LINK
> Next Part: LINK
> gonna upload it one by one!
> English is not my native language, guys, so sorry for any errors!
> WARNING: CUTENESS, ADORABLE GUYS
> YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED
Nico is sitting quite grumpily at the edge of the lake, watching Percy dive underwater, in his rolled up dark jeans and black shirt especially gifted by him. Nico frowns at the nymphs and merpeople-thingies at the bottom of the pool flirting unnecessarily and quite lusciously at his boyfriend, and smiles when he notices Percy wholeheartedly ignoring them.
Percy swims to the surface rapidly, sending water splashing everywhere and drenching Nico.
“Hey,” He protests, and they both laugh. Percy touches his finger to Nico’s chest, and all the water leaves his clothes in a _whoosh_. Nico loves that feeling, the exhilaration. It’s a bit like Shadow-Travelling, the only drawback being that Percy did _not_ enjoy Shadow-Travelling _one bit_. What a shame.
Percy shakes his head like a dog. But, instead of diving in again and leaving Nico to mull on the surface like he has been doing for the last two hours, he pulls Nico’s arm so that they both fall in the water. Nico gasps, but not getting to even squeak in protest he is plunged in the water.
Nico had always feared water as well as air, he had never flown except for on Argo II, and he really had never swum either. Now he knew that it had something to do with his dad being a rival with Poseidon and Zeus so it was in his blood to avoid the other two realms like the plague, but it hadn’t really repelled him from a relationship with the sea prince.
But now he closes his eyes and mouth tightly, fearing the suffocating feeling of water entering his lungs if he dared to open any of the two. If he died, he mentally swore that he’d curse Percy seven ways to Tartarus, damn love and all.
There’s a light caress of lips he recognizes all too familiarly on his nose, then on his eyes and on the corner of his lips. His skin feels cool but not wet, and he feels weightless. He opens his eyes warily, wondering if he was dead and if he was why it didn’t _hurt_?
And then he sees Percy laughing silently at him, blue-green lights dancing across his skin at the sunlight refracted by the water. Nico tries a gasp and—he can breathe underwater! One of Percy’s hands is gripping his waist tightly and Nico blushes brightly because he’s mortified. They’re suspended in the water, the nymphs now eyeing them curiously.
“You’re really cute when you’re scared and you puff out your cheeks.” Percy says and mimics a blowfish by puffing his face, and damn it does Percy look funny (And ridiculous, but Nico thinks he is too deep in love to call Percy ridiculous anytime soon).
“I did not look that ridiculous,” says Nico in spite of himself, blushing even more now. Percy shakes his head, his hair bellowing out before him like a storm cloud. Nico then clumsily drags Percy’s face into his and kisses him fiercely. After all, Percy is his and he has the right to kiss his boyfriend whenever he wants.
“Whoa,” Said Percy breathlessly after they part. Nico’s lips are throbbing and surely swollen, but Percy’s flushed cheeks make him have to take a deep breath (or is it a gulp of water?). Percy touches his own lips with his other hand, feeling the enflamed skin. The nymphs have scattered now, hissing at Nico but well he doesn’t even care. His boyfriend is the big, mighty prince. The thought makes him giggle mentally.
“That’s the best underwater kiss I’ve ever had,” He says, and Nico asks “What’s the second best?”
“Annabeth,” He says automatically, but stills. Nico’s smile quickly falls and oh, doesn’t his guy have a way of ruining moments?
Nico knows that Percy has the idea that he’s spoiled whatever was building between him and his lover, so he makes to pull them together once more. However, Nico pushes himself off Percy’s embrace until only their fingers are linked. And he’s at a loss what to do. He can’t swim very well to reach back to the surface and he can’t do much stuck underwater either. It’s devil and the deep blue sea for him. The epiphany makes him scowl.
“Sorry,” Percy says with an apologizing look, but Nico ignores him. Nico knows that whatever Percy and Annabeth had has ended and he needs to get over his irrational jealously, but he can’t help it. Percy had made the point clear that he loves Nico very much by offering them the aforementioned dark shirts last week, but what really is Nico next to Annabeth? Annabeth is smart, intelligent, insanely pretty with a nice bust and sleek hair. Nico isn’t even a girl. What’s he done to deserve a Greek hero as Percy?
“Stop it, the self-loathing.” Percy orders strangely, and without much of a preamble pulls Nico into another fierce kiss. Nico melts into Percy’s mouth and they both delve into each other’s embrace until all thoughts of self-depreciation are chased away from Nico’s mind.
“You know I love you. Don’t you, my Ghost King?” Asks Percy, tucking a loose strand of hair floating in front of Nico’s face. Nico can only nod, because he is brimming in love, really. And oh my gods, Nico want’s to slap himself a good few times because ugh is he turning sappy? He is the son of Hades! This is unacceptable!
They return to the surface after a while, when the cool water’s made them look a little decent and not the ‘recently fucked’ look they both sported. However, when they go up, there’s quite a commotion and they see Chiron looking at the edge concernedly. Nico and Percy both scramble up, completely dry, and the campers surrounding the area talk in hushed whispers as they slip their flip-flops on.
“Is everything okay? We were worried; you two were down there for over half an hour,” A girl asks, and Nico flushes again with the thought that they might be watching them. Nico bows his head so that his long-ish hair falls to his face and scowls, both to hide his blush and to keep the cold demeanor he reserves for everyone but friends. Percy ruffles his hair annoyingly “Nope, just a little fun with my powers,” He explains briefly.
Nico risks a glance up and sees Chiron smiling knowingly at them “don’t worry, they’re okay. Please return to your camp activities,” He says good naturedly, and Nico’s scowl deepens.
“Come on, Nico, let’s go,” Says Percy, and pulls Nico with him without a warning. Nico smiles again when he’s away from prying eyes, back in the woods. He and Percy walk hand-in-hand through the wood, touching the trees. Nico smiles at Percy because his boyfriend is gorgeous. And Percy pulls him against the tree to kiss him hard.
The following night is quite eventful, to say at least. Sometimes it’s good, having a boyfriend who nobody dares to stop.
**Author's Note:**
> Tell me what you think about it! Also, tell me if you would like to include anything and/or have any good ides! I've never written all this fluff before and I really wanna.
> See ya'll later.
> Toodles! |
b2e0fe1b44e042efa1701aefaf78543e | ['6a8b58eebb234ea0a8a967804e00550e'] | He’s expecting another tenant with a heavy package, or maybe Viola coming back with a load of groceries. What he isn’t expecting is to see Zoro slumped against the wall, a smear of blood in his wake and bloody handprints flowering on the wall. Crimson droplets bud on the floor in his wake.
A moment later Zoro picks himself up, slowly, rolling his shoulder against the wall and levering himself into a more upright position. He uses the momentum of the movement to get him those final steps to his door then limps into his apartment and out of sight.
Sanji blinks, unable to believe what he’s just seen.
Zoro had looked _wrecked._ And for Zoro, muscled up and slightly unnerving Zoro, to be that messed up—some serious shit must’ve gone down. Serious enough for it to look like a murder scene out in the hall.
And with all of that blood loss, Sanji has no idea why the man isn’t in the hospital.
Unless he _couldn’t_ go.
_Had he been doing something illegal?_
_Was there a gang fight?_
_Is Zoro in a fucking_ gang _?_
That would certainly explain some of the shady feelings Sanji’s been getting about the man, but somehow the idea doesn’t seem quite right. What Sanji does know for certain is that all of that blood needs to be wiped off before anyone else can see it and call the police.
With a rag, some cleaner, and a bucket of water from his kitchen, Sanji sets to work scrubbing at the walls. He figures the handprints are the most unnerving and does those first before moving on to the random smears and smudges and then gets the splatters on the floor. It takes him nearly half an hour before everything is clean and Zoro’s apartment has been eerily quiet for the majority of the time. At first his dog had made some noise, a few whimpers and whines that showed the animal was as worried as Sanji about Zoro’s condition. Now there’s nothing.
He puts the cleaning supplies away and stands in the center of his own apartment. Zoro’s a grown man, he can call for help if he needs it. He’d mentioned a sister before, surely he could call her if he couldn’t go to an actual hospital. A few minutes tick past and Sanji lights another cigarette, drawing the smoke into his lungs and letting it calm his nerves just a little.
The sun has fully set and the sky is one grey canvas, cloudless and blank except for the waning crescent of the moon. His TV is still going and the weatherman is cheerily predicting a sunny day for tomorrow, no chance of rain and a cloudless sky. Sanji turns it off and bites his lip. Now that there’s no task to distract him, reality is setting in.
Worry is still gnawing at his gut and he decides he might have to confront Zoro after all, especially if he’s just helped him get rid of evidence and could now be considered an accessory to some kind of crime.
But that’s not really what he’s most worried about. He’s worried about _Zoro._ No one’s come or gone from his apartment and he hasn’t heard the phone. If he’s trying to take care of his wounds himself, then surely he could use some help. Sanji isn’t even sure the man owns any medical supplies. _What if he’s passed out from the pain and his condition is deteriorating, while Sanji just stands here?_
With a burst of determination Sanji goes to his bathroom and digs out his first aid kit. _So what if Zoro’s in a gang? So what if his injuries are from something shady?_ As far as Sanji knows, Zoro is a nice guy and all Sanji can picture is the same man who’d greeted him sleepily in the hall or teased him about his slacks, now covered in blood and possibly dying alone in his flat.
—
The door to Zoro’s apartment hasn’t even been locked.
Sanji eyes the doorknob, slicked with red, before taking out his handkerchief and wiping it down. He stares at the fabric’s now marred canvas, and crumples it back into his pocket—the loss of a handkerchief isn’t top of his list of worries.
There’s a pair of boots by the door. Two red footprints are stamped beside them, as if he turned, and stood on each foot as he removed the other’s boot.
Logically, Sanji would next have seen the puddle of clothes by the corner of the kitchen table’s leg, but instead, his eyes are drawn to the tracks of red that pepper the floor to the bedroom.
Each mark—each _pawprint_ —is a lipstick red kiss on the floor: an upside down heart shape in the middle, preceded by four fat tear drops. The needle tip claw marks in front of those have sometimes left angry red scratches, as if the creature were dragging its feet.
Sanji’s heart is in his throat, and already his blood feels like it’s burning the inside of his body. He’d like to say he had premeditative thoughts; that he genuinely considered running away, but moved forward against his better judgment—but he can’t. Truthfully, while fear wanted him to flee, a greater desire pulled him forward like a hook in his chest. He can barely hear his own footsteps over the rush in his ears as he follows the trail through the tiny apartment.
And then everything is quiet. The moment his eyes fall to the form curled on the bed, his own breath is offensively and dangerously loud, as if he were banging pots. His eyes track the rise and fall of the wolf’s pelt, the shiver of singular silver hairs. It’s daylight, and he can blink as many times as he pleases, but it’s not going away. It’s real. It’s alive. _He’s standing feet away from a live wolf._ | 45c45a50803b43c7b7a82d2ea360a157 | ['6a8b58eebb234ea0a8a967804e00550e'] | “Oh, you.” She chuckles at the threat and waves him off, “You know me and Lindley walk home together now.”
“Alright, have a nice night then.”
The bell jingles above him as he pushes out into the evening dusk, sidewalk illuminated by the full moon hanging heavy overhead and the street lamps throwing puddles of soft glowing light. Winter has melted into spring and the weather has finally gotten warmer, but storm fronts and sharp winds keep Sanji in a jacket and the occasional rain slicker. He tugs his jacket closer around him, wraps his scarf tightly around his neck and tucks in the ends before making his way home with quick, measured steps.
The hall is quiet and his footsteps echo in the tight space, keys jingling noisily before he bumps open the door with his hip. Dumping the bags on the counter, he sighs and digs into his back pocket, pulling out his pack of cigarettes and slipping one between his lips. His lighter sparks and smoke quickly fills his lungs and the kitchen, pulled up through the vent above the stove as he unpacks the groceries. After a few minutes he flicks on the radio.
_We’re looking at possible pop-up showers through the night and another cloudy day tomorrow--_
Shutting the fridge door he reaches over and changes the station, settling for something smooth and jazzy that he can swing his hips to as he moves around the kitchen. Time passes easily and before long, he’s leaning against the counter finishing the last of his latest cigarette.
A good evening, all and all, and Sanji is dead tired from running around at work. He’s about to pour himself a glass of wine before bed when he hears it—a howl, long and drawn out from the room next door.
A fucking _howl._
Sanji’s been worried about Zoro’s dog for a while now. He never sees it, never hears Zoro taking it out for walks or even talking to it. He’s never seen Zoro coming back to the apartment with food or toys or anything. Zoro seems like an okay guy, but Sanji can’t help but wonder if he’s taking care of the dog properly.
Another howl echoes through the walls.
It sounds upset, but Sanji doesn’t know what he can do about it. Hopefully Zoro will feed it or take it out or whatever before too long.
Except he doesn’t.
Nearly an hour passes and Zoro’s dog it still howling off and on, claws clicking on the hardwoods as it passes through the apartment. Occasionally Sanji will hear scratching, like it’s pawing at the window or the door, but the howling is really what does him in.
It’s midnight on the dot when the most haunting howl comes through the wall and reverberates down to Sanji’s very core. His hair stands on end and a shiver goes up his spine. The thing sounds _wrecked_ and Sanji can’t bare it a moment longer.
Stubbing out his cigarette and stomping out into the hallway, he bangs on Zoro’s door.
“Zoro,” he calls, waiting a moment before he bangs at the door again. “Zoro, come on.”
There’s no response and Sanji heaves out a breath before thumping his forehead against the unresponsive wood. “Are you even home?”
Nothing.
He listens carefully and can hear no signs of Zoro in the apartment, no TV or footsteps or music. Nothing. Come to think of it, Sanji doesn’t remember hearing him come home. Although Zoro doesn’t seem to keep strict hours so he could’ve gotten back before Sanji…
But the apartment’s been quiet all evening other than the dog.
Sanji does some quick math in his head, realizing this poor thing has been on its own for hours and might even be left to fend for itself until morning. A low, lingering howl leaks into the hall and Sanji bites his lip.
_What if it’s sick?_
_What if Zoro’s dog is actually dying and no one is there to save it?_
_What if something’s seriously wrong?_
His worry only spikes when the next howl fades away, softer than all the rest and shorter too. Then there’s a deafening silence, no more pacing or pawing or howling.
“Fuck,” Sanji breathes. _Fuck fuck fuck._ Because what if the thing is fucking dead? What if it needs the vet? There’s no way a dog sounds like that unless something is seriously the matter.
Running back into his apartment, he grabs some tools from the kitchen and comes back to Zoro’s door, taking the time to mutter a half-assed apology before he goes to work on the handle. He gets the lock undone as quick as he can and sets his tools on the hallway floor, wanting both hands free for whatever he finds inside.
Dogs are supposed to be man’s best friend or whatever, but this one sounds less than amiable to its current situation. And a sick animal is an unpredictable one.
He’s cautious as he makes his way into Zoro’s apartment, shutting the door behind him as he steps softly through the entryway. “Zoro?” he calls. “Zoro if you’re home, it’s me. Sanji from next door. You should take care of your fucking dog so other people don’t have to break into your apartment to check on it.”
The talking is mostly to distract himself, but it almost makes it worse—how his voice echoes in the sparsely furnished space. It’s dark, the only light what’s spilling in from the outside, hazy moonlight dappled with clouds. He’s about to walk further into Zoro’s living room and look for a light when something moves on the couch by the window.
Sanji’s heart contracts in his chest. |
80a4b102f208475ab3a9658525b349c7 | ['6aae7f3eaaf64048a97eda28b341bfc6'] | “Oh? You never told me you had a friend who’s this pretty and your type too?” Jeongguk’s eyes widened before he blushed and spoke “No mama, he’s someone I met just today, it’s a long story, I’ll tell you tomorrow okay?” The lady’s smile slowly faded as she realized Jeongguk was about to go, the latter however seemed to notice that and spoke again, “We’ll meet tomorrow okay? Until then I need you to take care of yourself for me, alright?” when he felt the lady at ease he spoke again, “I love you ma” she gave her head a peck before saying “You’re the best, Jeongguk-ah, now go on, take care of yourself too!” Jeongguk smiled and stood up, turning towards Jimin, they walked a little more before Jimin felt something warm on his shoulders. “You’re going to catch a cold, pretty” Jimin blushed.
“So, who was that lady?” “She’s someone I met here, she told me she was alone and, I don’t know something in me made me want to take care of her every now and then, you know, plus it was a little after I lost my mother, she really helped me through it, which is a part of why I call her mama”
“You’re not as “I’m a bad guy, I smoke and have a dozen tattoos” as I thought you were” Jimin admitted, finding himself smile too when saw the younger laugh,
“That’s very stereotypical of you, pretty. But I can’t blame you. You know there’s a stereotype about the area you live in too?”
“What is it?” Jimin asked, Jeongguk looked down as if he was thinking about how stupid it was, which made Jimin more curious.
“Its that you guys live in literal castles” This time it was Jimin’s turn to laugh,
“We don’t live in castles, they’re just really big houses”
“So castles.” Jimin laughed again
“God I could hear you laugh all day”
“I’m not God” Jimin snickered,
“Well you didn’t tell me your name either, pretty”
“Park Jimin” Jimin smiled, stretching his hand out,
“So you have a pretty name too huh” Jeongguk spoke before taking Jimin’s hand and intertwining their fingers, “Let’s get you home now” When Jimin was about to say something his phone rang, _mom_.
His mother’s voice was so loud angry that even Jeongguk could here it, he felt the smaller’s tension and squeezed his hand, his thumb caressing the back of Jimin’s hand.
“I’m sorry mom, Hoseok hyung’s car broke down so I’ll be a little late-“ his mother’s next words were, made him flinch and this time his voice came out angrier,
“He’s still my friend, I don’t care if he wins-“ he stopped when he looked up at Jeongguk who looked back at him in concern, “You know what, we’ll talk in the morning, please don’t wait for me” with that he closed his phone and sighed.
* * *
_Remember when you taught me fate?
Said it’d all be worth the wait,_
_Like that night in the back of the cab_
_When you fingers walked in my hands._
“I know I’m asking for a lot, especially because we barely know each other, but, can we go anywhere except my house? Please?” Jimin pleaded.
Jeoungguk seemed to think before he said, “Well there’s not many places that are open at this hour.. but you did tell them my car, or whoever’s car it was broke down so why not” Jeongguk smiled, feeling somewhat proud when he saw Jimin look relieved.
Jeongguk drove them to a cliff by the sea, “I’ve seen the best sunrises here, its another place I come to when I want to be alone” they were sat on the bonnet of Jeongguk’s car, resting their backs on the windscreen, “You’re really showing me places that are rather personal to you” Jimin looked at him, “Yeah, I don’t know its just something in me makes me want to trust you and make you feel better, and I hope you can trust me enough to talk about what’s bothering you too”
“I do trust you, I mean why else would I let you take me somewhere I don’t even know………. Its just, I didn’t win a dance competition and it was a really important one, if I wanted to be a dancer in the future too, and my parents were furious, especially because my friend won and think I’m hanging out with him when he should be my enemy” Jimin scoffed.
“Can I be honest with you?” Jeongguk asked, Jimin nodded.
“I’m glad you lost, and I don’t think you should be sad about it either”
“Why would you say that-“
“Because I think its fate, you were fated to lose that so maybe you could win an even bigger one. But I’m glad because I wouldn’t have met you if you didn’t lose” Jeongguk spoke, looking into Jimins eyes and Jimin found nothing but sincerity in them.
_Long nights, day dreams,_
_Sugar and smoke rings_
_I’ve been a fool,_
_But strawberries and cigarettes, _
_Always taste like you_
Jimin felt Jeongguks eyes linger at his lips, almost as if he was hesitating, as if he didn’t want to ruin whatever they had, so Jimin moved in closer and crashed his lips against the taller’s, it was sweet it was soft, it was just how Jimin had imagined it. It was perfect.
Jeongguk pulled apart slowly, their forheads still resting against each others, “You’re really pretty, did you know that?” Jimin blushed, “You’ve been calling me pretty this whole time” he looked into the brunette’s eyes, a shy smile playing on both of their lips, | e301818588b84aa3a170d7aba3173217 | ['6aae7f3eaaf64048a97eda28b341bfc6'] | _Aren’t you supposed to sit really close on a bike? Do I hold his waist? Oh I get to hold his waist! What if I don’t want to let go of his waist later? Can we go somewhere instead of my house? WAIT he called me sweets?!_
“You seem to zone out a lot” Jeongguk let out an amused chuckle.
“_Well_, it’s not every day a hot guy gives you a ride on his bike”
“So you think I’m hot?”
_he’s so pretty when he smiles like that- WHAT DID I JUST TELL HIM _
“It’s okay sweets, I think you’re really really pretty too”
“Thank you”
“Here, you can wear my helmet” Jeongguk said “Oh and if I’m driving too fast just squeeze my waist okay?” he spoke softly as he placed his helmet on the smaller’s head, “Our size difference is cute”
“Oh my god you scrunched your nose, _that’s_ cute”
“You’re cute”
“Did we just flirt?”
“I don’t mind flirting with you” Jeongguk shrugged,
“How many people did you say this to?”
“None actually, I’ve never really been serious about anyone like this you know”
_Like this?_
Before Jimin could think much about it, he was brought back by the roar of the bike’s engine, “Lets go?” Jeongguk looked back at him, hands finding Jimins as he attached them to his waist “Hold on to me, little one”
“How much would you rate your ride Park Jimin?” they were standing outside Jimin’s house, Jeongguk was leaning against his bike as Jimin stood in front of him, not really wanting to go inside just yet.
“Hm lets see...” Jimin played along, “Considering the looks and all, I’d give it 10/10 but overall it’d be like a four?” Jimin laughed when he saw the tallers face fall,
“I’m kidding Jeongguk, I just.. I don’t know, I wanna spend more time with you?”
“Why didn’t you say so” Jeongguk smiled, “Do you have time right now?”
“I do” they smiled at each other, as if knowing exactly what was going through the others head.
“Where do you wanna go?” Jeongguk asked, Jimin thought for a moment before his eyes lit up “the pier!” Jimin was sure he heard Jeongguk say _adorable _ under his breath before they left for the pier.
* * *
“Gukkie can we get ice cream?” Jimin looked at Jeongguk with puppy eyes, the two of them were having a great time together so far, they had managed to get comfortable around each other enough to be holding each others hand and not wanting to let go, at this point it clearly looked like they were a couple on a date, and that’s something both of them silently hoped this would end up as.
Before Jeongguk could even answer Jimin, he was being dragged to the ice cream truck by Jimin, they chose to take a stroll by the beach, Jeongguk had bought Jimin an ice cream, not really wanting one for himself, and held Jimin’s other hand as they walked, talking about every little thing of themselves that came to mind,
both of them were sure they had definitely fallen for the other.
“Your ice cream’s dripping, babe” Jeongguk spoke,
“You keep giving me these nicknames” Jimin blushed,
“Yeah, you’ve only called me Gukkie, Jeongukkie, Jungoo, Googie and your bad boy until now”
“Hey! No one asked you to count, plus they were just words of endearment you know, I don’t just say them to everyone.”
“Neither do I, I really mean them when I say them” Jimin looked up at him.
“I know I might have that image and stuff but deep down I’m another hopeless romantic, and I seem to really like you Jimin, so..” he took a step closer to Jimin,
“If I’m going to do this” and another step,
“ I’m going to do it right” he placed a kiss on the smaller’s head.
“I like you too” Jimin stared at him, his cheeks rosy “a lot in fact” they stayed like that for a little more until Jeongguk spoke again,
“It’s getting late now, let’s get you home.”
“But I don’t wanna leave your side yet” Jimin pouted,
“You’re going to be seeing a lot of me from now” Jeongguk smiled at him
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
* * *
The two of them were once again standing outside Jimin’s house, Jeongguk wanted to coo at how Jimin didn’t want to go inside and stay with him.
“Are you really going to keep staring at me instead of going in, Minie?” Jimin laughed at his ownself before speaking, “Is there something wrong with that?”
their moment was interrupted when a middle aged woman stepped outside of Jimin’s house, she had some of his features so Jeongguk assumed it would be his mother.
_Am I about to meet his mom this soon? In a leather jacket and a bike?!_
“Jimin-ah, where were you? I was getting worried when I found out you Taehyung wasn’t dropping you?” She seemed to stop between her rant when she noticed Jeongguk.
Jimin smiled at his mother’s confused look and spoke “Mom, this is Jeongguk, he dropped me and we-“ before he could say anything further, he noticed how his mothers eyes lit up,
_Please tell me you don’t remember_
“So _you’re _Jeongguk, its nice to finally meet the boy Jimin talks a whole lot about, ah you really are as handsome as Jimin describes you, or even better.”
“MOM! We should head inside now, I’m sure Jeonggukie has somewhere he needs to be-“
“Park Jimin that is no way to act around your boyfriend, or future boyfriend, please join us for dinner Jeongguk”
Jeongguk seemed to hesitate a bit but the woman managed to convince him into the house, it was only Jimin and his mother which explained why the two were so close, and why she knew a lot about Jeongguk. Throughout dinner the two were flustered because of Jimin’s mothers straight forward questions like “Which one of you asked the other out?” “Are you two dating yet” “Jimin-ah I approve of him”
Jimin wouldn’t have been surprised if his mom asked them if they were planning to marry each other in the future but luckily enough that question never came.
* * *
“I told you not to do one thing and that’s exactly what you did, who do you even _think_ you are?” It was Seohyun, Jimin knew this would come at him but right now he only wanted to focus on the good things, like Jeongguk, he clearly didn’t need a brat telling him what to do, he froze when he felt a pair of arms snake around his waist but immediately relaxed into the hold when he realized who it was.
“He is his own person and he clearly doesn’t need anyone telling him what to do, so I believe we both would appreciate if you realize I am now off limits and well, was never really interested in you in the first place” “Oh, and I met his mother too, so best believe what we have is very real and that I’m not letting go of him until my last breath” with that Jeongguk closed his eyes and placed a gentle kiss on Jimin’s neck, pulling him even closer.
The groups of students surrounding them slowly started leaving “Park Jimin you have a lot to explain to me” Taehyung said before turning, leaving behind a flushed Jimin wrapped in his lover’s arms.
“Baby, you caused a scene” Jimin giggled,
“Nu uh, I was only back hugging you, it was a back hug scene, babe” |
6aa3158138f042d2a196d99d5a925e00 | ['6abd8feab98648b6852d6034b56ec1ce'] | jeongguk tried to watch. he tried his hardest, but his mind kept wandering back to jimin. to jimin's hair, which was now light pink. to what he wore (black pants, loose sheer white button-down). to his partner (the program said her name was hyoyeon. she was pretty).
hobi was fantastic, as always. standing ovation. yoongi was smiling that gummy smile that he reserved only for his boyfriend. hobi was beaming onstage. jeongguk was standing and clapping politely, but his heart wasn't in it, really.
(his heart was sitting on his windowsill, buried in an inch of soil inside a delft blue flowerpot.)
then the final dance. just the ballet girls, the pre-teen jazz girls, and the girls from jimin's routine. they'd all changed into short, flowy lyrical dresses, all barefoot. the song was one of those cheesy pop songs in english that trended on itunes for a good week and a half at a time. charlie puth or troye sivan or sam smith or somebody. jeongguk wasn't paying attention. yoongi was still smiling, reaching under his seat for the flowers he'd brought for hobi. the song was over soon enough. people started standing up to leave.
yoongi picked one of the flowers out of the arrangement and handed it to jeongguk. "take it to your boy," he said.
it was a tulip. _a declaration of love_ , from that same cheesy wedding magazine with the roses, _there's sunshine in your smile_. _whatever_ , jeongguk thought. _he probably doesn’t remember._
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> the song jimin danced to is ‘take me’ by miso
>
> hobi’s song is obviously ‘boy meets evil’ by bts, if you couldn't tell :P
>
> tumblr&twitter :: @USER
>
> thank you guys for the support. as a writer, your comments mean the world to me <3
3. dianthus caryophyllus
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> jeon jeongguk returns a flower to his angel, and the angel turns his wing.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> <3
jeongguk and yoongi hurried outside to where the dancers usually gathered, both with flowers in hand, each for a different purpose.
it was still as cold outside as it had been earlier, so the dancers must have been especially freezing. the little shuffle-ball-change babies were already shivering in their parents’ arms. jeongguk felt bad for them.
next, the pre-teens came out of the stage door. then the ballerinas. finally, jeongguk spotted jimin’s partner, hyoyeon, come out with the other girl from their routine. a woman—a mother, probably—handed them both bouquets of pink flowers.
yoongi elbowed jeongguk’s arm. hobi had come out of the door finally. and his arm was linked with none other than jimin’s. they were laughing about something—jeongguk could hear jimin’s laugh from however many yards away he was standing.
hobi spotted jeongguk and yoongi, who was smiling brightly, and tugged jimin over to them. jimin was still in his dance costume, but had put on tennis shoes before coming out. there was makeup still caked on his face. he was shivering wihout a coat.
hobi, on the other hand, was in normal clothes. his hair was still slicked back like it was for his performance, but he made it work along with his jeans and turtleneck.
“yoongi!” hobi yelled, walking quickly. he let go of jimin to hug his boyfriend, but yoongi pulled the flowers out from behind his back first.
“these are for you,” yoongi said. hoseok made an adorable, pained noise from the back of his throat, pulling yoongi in by his arm for a kiss. jeongguk and jimin both averted their eyes, and when they made eye contact, jimin started laughing again.
when hoseok and yoongi pulled away from each other, yoongi was blushing and glaring. but before he could say anything, hobi spotted someone. “ooh, yoongi! there’s namjoon’s family. we’ve gotta say hi!” he pulled yoongi away excitedly, leaving jimin and jeongguk alone.
they locked eyes. jeongguk blushed. jimin smiled and shivered, wrapping his arms around himself.
“you’re the guy who works at the coffee shop, right? with yoongi?” jimin asked. his voice was sweet as ever, however shaky from the cold.
“yeah. that’s me,” jeongguk said. he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly before remembering the flower in his other hand. “oh! this is for you.”
jeongguk held the flower out to him, and jimin took it gently. he was still smiling. his smile was gorgeous.
“thanks. jeongguk, was it? park jimin. hobi talks about you a lot. when he isn’t talking about yoongi, that is.” jimin chuckled to himself, looking at the flower. “he says you’re like a little brother to him."
“all good things, i hope?”
”nothing but good things. he speaks highly of you. calls you the golden boy of jin’s coffee shop.”
jeongguk couldn’t think of what else to say, so he just said, “um. you dance good.”
jimin’s eyes lit up as he made eye contact. “you think so? thanks! that...that means a lot.” he glanced behind jeongguk for a second, seeing someone. “oh, i’m sorry, i’ve gotta go. thank you for the flower, jeongguk! i’ll come in and get some coffee later this week.”
jeongguk could barely utter a ‘you’re welcome’ before jimin was skipping off towards some handsome guy behind him and hugging him tight. the guy smiled down at him—a couple inches taller—and took off his coat, putting it around jimin’s shoulders. jimin was laughing again, until the guy grabbed him by the hand and was kissing him. jimin kissed back. his arm was around the guy’s neck, jeongguk’s flower still clutched in his hand.
jeongguk didn’t stay any longer.
he texted yoongi, telling him he’d caught a cab home, but didn’t send any other word. when he got back, he drank himself to sleep without taking his jacket off. _another night like the rest_ , he thought. | ac1b3d707306440cbc27c06a1498a4bf | ['6abd8feab98648b6852d6034b56ec1ce'] | > there's most likely going to be three parts to this little fic, so keep an eye out. next part will probably be up in a week or so.
>
> follow me on tumblr and twitter for updates @USER
3. Three - Both
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Jae gets jealous, Brian has a crisis.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> lots of flashbacks, et cetera. honestly, it's a little confusing, but bear with me.
>
> thanks to everyone for the continued support!
>
> also, i’m looking for a beta reader to proofread future stuff! hmu on tumblr or twitter if you’re interested :: @USER
**ONE WEEK AGO, JAE**
The members had been going on about Brian acting strange around them since it started, like when Brian nearly dropped his bass after finishing a concert; when he started to not let them read his lyrics unless specifically permitted (which they had anyway); when Jae brushed his shoulder and Brian almost fell off stage, and would have fallen if Jae hadn’t grabbed him in time.
When the others looked through Brian’s lyrics, they seemingly thought it made sense.
“Young K-hyung has a crush,” Dowoon said one day, while Brian and Sungjin were out with friends or something. “Look at this, Jae-hyung.” He was holding out Brian’s journal for Jae to read, even though he couldn’t read the hangul. He knew Brian wrote English lyrics too, but he never read them. Not without permission.
There was a pang in Jae’s chest. That word. A _crush_. Brian had a crush. Did he really?
Wonpil looked concerned at Jae’s reaction, of all people, but he hadn’t said anything. Jae brushed it off. He didn’t like Brian anymore. Brian was straight. He had a crush on a girl. Hell, he could be _dating_ a girl already.
“Oh really?” Jae said, busying himself on his phone. “You guys really shouldn’t invade his privacy like that. If he wants to tell us, let him tell us.”
”Hasn’t he been acting weird lately, though?” Dowoon pressed on, taking the journal back to read over again. “Hey, there’s English songs too! Can you translate, hyung?”
”Busy.” Jae stood up, blatantly avoiding the question by standing up and going back to his bed instead of the couch.
**ONE WEEK AGO, BRIAN**
Brian never thought about how much he and Jae were around each other until he couldn't stand being in the room with him, unless he wanted his heart to burst from his chest and fall to the cold, hard floor.
When he'd almost dropped his bass, he was looking over at Jae, who'd been all sweaty and his hair was sticking to his forehead and _god_ he was gorgeous.
When Jae brushed him and he almost fell, he'd felt something like ten volts of electricity shoot up his arms when Jae grabbed him.
Every second of every day, Brian had his journal on him. Whether in his bag (hidden, of course) or under his mattress when he slept, he constantly went over in his head where he had last left it, and what the fastest route to get to it was. The one time he forgot it was when he was too busy to remember, having to go meet a friend about some alleged crisis. Of course, that's when the members looked through it.
**ONE DAY AGO, JAE**
”The plan is as follows,” Sungjin said, briefing the members quietly, so Brian wouldn’t hear from the other room. “We'll do it tomorrow. Jae, Wonpil, go to town to get groceries because we’re almost out of food. Manager-sunbae is out for the day. Dowoonie and I will talk to Brian.”
”Nice plan, hyung.” Dowoon gave Sungjin a high-five, then gave one to Wonpil, then held his hand out for Jae, but Jae ignored it.
It felt wrong. It was a total invasion of Brian’s privacy. And they were dragging Jae into it.
Wonpil, being his ex-wingman, was okay with it. Sure, he might’ve looked to Jae for silent approval, but Jae didn’t even bother to look back. It would’ve gone on without his approval, anyway.
**ONE DAY AGO, BRIAN**
Brian didn't hear anything.
**FIFTEEN MINUTES AGO, JAE**
“Why—the hell—are there—so many—stairs,” Jae panted quietly, Wonpil having already gotten up them with the groceries.
When he got to the door, he waited. The others were talking. Sure, it was broken and muffled through the wood, and they were talking so fast Jae could barely understand, but he got the gist of it. Brian had a crush. He heard his own name mentioned. He heard Brian. But he didn’t put it together. Wonpil mentioned him again, and he took it as his cue to go in.
“Why would he be glad?” Dowoon asked as he shut the door behind himself.
”Why’s what?” Jae asked.
When he spoke up, the room was silent.
“What are you guys talking about? Does it have to do with me? Did Bri ever tell you about what he was writing about so you’ll leave me alone about asking him?” Jae never wanted to confront Brian about _anything_ in the first place. He wasn't going to ask about a dumb crush on someone else. Especially now.
No one said anything for a while, but Sungjin finally spoke after what felt like eternity.
“Talk it out. If he wants to tell you, he can tell you. _No_ , Dowoon.”
**EIGHT MINUTES AGO, JAE**
Brian had a crush. He had a crush. He wasn’t dating anyone. He had a _crush_.
As Wonpil and Dowoon argued with Sungjin on the couch, Jae opened his door.
“What do you want?” _Ouch_.
“It’s my room too.” And Jae apologized. He could pretend not to hurt. For Brian.
**FOUR MINUTES AGO, BRIAN**
Jae liked his lyrics. Jae always liked his lyrics.
But why didn't he now?
**FOUR MINUTES AGO, JAE**
Jae always liked his lyrics. But they were about someone else. Always. |
648072525da243d8af0f89edc7ffb674 | ['6aea6dec460947898781e14b86cbb1ac'] | Heyes started to appear annoyed, but then just gave in as he pointed out a brightly lit cafe down one of the streets.
“After we get warm and dry, Heyes.”
“You’re tellin’ me we can wait to eat?” Heyes sounded astounded.
“Gotta wait until my teeth stop chatterin’ before I can eat.”
Heyes gave his partner a look, but then continued to check out the town as they made their way down the main street. He could barely make out the sheriff’s name as they rode by his office, but it didn’t look even vaguely familiar. The boys exchanged a relieved glance and continued on down the wet street, riding by a livery stable and a of couple hotels. The rain had let up a bit, so the raucous noises from several saloons down one of the side streets reached them. They looked at each other, then at their drowned appearance, unhappy horses, and headed to the livery first.
After seeing to their horses’ comfort, the boys slogged their way down the street to the first hotel they could find. Dripping water, they entered the lobby. The hotel clerk, slender and dapper, looked them up and down and haughtily said, the “May I help you…gentlemen?”
Heyes sighed, and managed to dredge up a big smile, even if his eyes stayed dull from exhaustion. “We’d like a room with two beds, and a nice warm bath, if possible.”
“That will be two dollars…sir. In advance, please.”
The tiredness that filled Heyes allowed his pleasant façade to drop. The dark eyes of the former outlaw bored into those of the clerk. He held the gaze until he started to worry that he was making the hotel employee wonder if they were more than just another couple of drifters. Heyes pulled out a wad of bills, some of the poker winnings he had accumulated before the other players in the last town had become suspicious of the too talented poker player and his friend who looked too comfortable with his tied down gun.
Heyes forced himself to break eye contact, peeled off a couple of dollars and muttered curtly, “Here. Can we have the key, please? We’d like to get out of these wet clothes, before we catch our death.”
“Yes, sir.” The clerk, now nervous, replied. “Would you happen to be with the other…gentlemen staying here?”
Heyes was immediately on edge. The Kid came out of his lassitude and double-checked the hotel lobby. Nothing appeared unusual, so Heyes asked, “What fellas?”
The clerk swallowed nervously. “Um…you know. The Johnson brothers and their…um…friends.” He eyed the boys warily. “You do know them, don’t you? They won’t be happy if’n you ain’t their friends.” The clerk’s speech slipped into a pattern that wasn’t quite so formal.
Heyes and the Kid glanced at either other, trying to decide if they needed to ride back out into the rain. The Kid looked around again, not seeing anything unusual, and looked pleadingly back at Heyes. They were both exhausted. Heyes knew from the way Curry held himself that he was ready as always to deal with any threat, but there was still a sense of utter fatigue peering through the nervous energy coming from him.
Heyes sighed again and turned back to the clerk, once again pasting a big smile on his tired face. “Yeah, course we know the Johnson brothers. Don’t wanna cause them any concern. If we can have the room key, we’ll settle in.”
Key finally in hand, Heyes lead the way up the stairs. Opening the door, he was surprised to find a pleasant room. Curry glanced around to make certain nothing was amiss, then started peeling off wet clothes.
“Don’t you think maybe you should wait for the bath to come up first?”
“You do what you want, Heyes, but I’m tired of bein’ cold.”
By the time the bath had arrived, Heyes’ teeth were chattering and Curry was only wearing his henley and pants and doffed them as soon as the boy who had brought up the tub and water closed the door. Stripping efficiently and settling into the warm water, he let out a deep sigh of relief.
“Don’t you think it would have been fairer to have flipped a coin to see who got to go first?” Heyes didn’t look happy, standing with his hands on his hips glaring at his cousin.
Curry smiled and the sparkle came back to his eyes. “Gotta learn to move faster, Heyes. Sittin’ so much at those poker tables must be slowing you down.” He grabbed the soap and started scrubbing his arms to help get his blood flowing. He was moving quickly, as Heyes in his present mood was not going to be happy with a cold bath. “That and gettin’ old. You are well past thirty now, you know.”
“Well past? Hardly.” Heyes glared at the Kid again. “I’m not that much older than you and you know it.” He was shivering a bit more as he started to remove his sodden clothes. “I just turned thirty last year.” His eyes did not meet his partner’s.
“Wasn’t that the year before last?” Curry looked at him concerned. “You do remember that, don’tcha?”
“Just hurry and get done before the water is totally cold, please, Kid?”
“Sheesh, Heyes, you’re gettin’ to be like an old woman.” He smiled through the soap covering his face.
“You’re the one who just turned thirty.” Heyes rubbed his arms.
“Still younger than you.”
Heyes glared at his partner, but pulled the quilt off the nearest bed, and wrapped it around himself as he sat down in the chair by the window.
A thoughtful look came over Curry’s face as he lathered up his unruly blond curls. “Heyes, you ever heard of these Johnson brothers? I haven’t.” | 698f4af7213f40c6b019b84c216df1ed | ['6aea6dec460947898781e14b86cbb1ac'] | Both men were a bit leery of such an enthusiastic welcome by Chip. Heyes cautiously entered the room first, as the Kid took one last look around the hall before he followed his partner, his right hand unconsciously drifting towards his gun belt.
It was darkened with the shades drawn and stuffy.
“You got the telegraph?”
“Yes,” Heyes paused. “What’s going on?” He stifled a cough. He could see a mound in one bed, and above the quilt some strands of red gold hair sticking up, even more crazily than usual. He approached the bed and looked down. Red did not stir. He looked exhausted. The planes of his face looked stark and pale.
“Sorry we couldn’t meet you in Willow Bend, but things have gotten a bit intense for us.” Chip sighed. “ I wanted to delay last couple jobs, what with the rain and increased interest from the law and all, but Red wouldn’t hear of it. Just kept insisting we had to stay on schedule. The bank at Mesquite was bad enough, being chased by that posse for two days, but then the coordination at Enoch almost undid us. Barely got out of town before we heard that Tuhy was on his way.”
“Ah, Chip,” the Kid interrupted. “We probably don’t really need or want to hear all that. Wouldn’t do any of us any good.”
“Yeah, sorry, Thaddeus.” Chip scrubbed his face. “I’m just bushed. Billy came here on the train with us, to make certain we were all settled, so Red and I could rest up, recover, and lay low for a while, but then he went on to…well, some other things. We’ve been here a couple days now.” He scowled. “Red insisted we stay in the room to avoid any attention, but I sure could use a whiskey or two, and some other entertainment. We said she was sick, so they wouldn’t worry about us staying in the room, but...”
“She?” Heyes interrupted, his fever bright eyes glistening further.
“Yeah, we were wondering why you had registered as Mr. and Miss Johnson,” the Kid started.
“Oh, well,” Chip paused, and then kept going. “Red thought it would help throw the law off of our trail.”
“And it has.” There was stirring in the bed and Red’s unruly mop of red hair became more visible as he sat up in bed. He looked tired and worn, but still in better shape than Chip. The quilts had started to slip off of his shoulders, but he pulled them back up, snuggling in their warmth, while his eyes stayed sharp on their new visitors. “Haven’t heard of any posses coming through town here.”
“No, Red, I got to admit you are right there.” Chip shook his head and then gave his brother a bit of a glare. “But it’s getting darn boring just sitting up here.”
“Better than getting caught.” Red returned the glare, but then switched his attention to Heyes, as he gave up his battle with his cough and sat in a chair and rattled away for a solid minute. “Sounds like you boys are in worse shape than we are.”
“We were out in the rain too.” The Kid’s concern for his partner was evident in his face, but a thoughtful glance to Red stilled it for a moment. Then he continued. “I thought I might be coming down with the grippe, but it looks like Joshua got the worst of it.”
“I’m fine.” Heyes took off his hat and wiped his brow with his sleeve.
“Yeah, you sure look it.” The Kid shook his head. “You running a fever again?”
“I said I was fine.” A sharp edge came into Heyes’ voice, but then he was overcome by another coughing spell.
Red tossed the quilts aside and started out of bed, until he realized he was clad only in his long johns. He quickly grabbed at a shirt lying on the bed and pulled it on as he approached Heyes. He started to put a hand out, but received a glare, so he refrained and just stood close with his hands on his hips.
“Chip give me a glass of water from that pitcher.” He turned and held out his hand until his brother complied. He then thrust it into Heyes’ face until the older man took it and gratefully swallowed. Heyes then commenced coughing again until Red handed him a fairly clean kerchief.
“I got my own.” When he pulled out a well-used bandana, Red scowled and continued to hold out his until Heyes took it.
“Looks like you might need rest more than some of us.” The young man gave his brother a look, but Chip just shrugged.
“I’m getting bored, Red.”
“And heaven help us if you get bored.” Red looked down as Heyes finished blowing his nose. He started to hand back the kerchief, but then drug a smile across his face, and just stuffed it in his pocket with the other soiled one.
“You two checked into the room next door?” Red looked over to the Kid, who had a strange look on his face, but nodded.
“Maybe after you settle Joshua, you can take Chip over for a drink.” He held up his hand as Curry was going to protest. “I’ll watch Joshua. I’m not in a mood to go carousing at the saloon just yet.” As he turned back to the bed to grab up his pants, there was a distinct limp to his walk.
“You’re hurt too?” Heyes asked, coughing.
“Nah.” Red shook his head. “Just pulled something jumping onto the train.”
“I thought you said it hurt like ...” Chip started.
“Yeah, might be one of the reasons I’m not up to going across the street and making certain you don’t get into trouble.” Red glared at his brother, as Curry helped Heyes into the adjoining room. |
5501a721f1384c38b5bba8c9c6a769ba | ['6b0e19d41fbd41db93b87e12547c7b7a'] | That's his mother. Always to the point; she'd always said she didn't have time for nonsense as a teenager, and certainly not now.
In a rush, Rafael says, "I… I fucked up. Sort of. I didn't do anything _wrong_ , I swear I didn't-"
"Then _what_?"
"I may be- no, I am- I'm going to jail, Mami." He lets out a tiny near-sob.
"What?!"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so- I didn't want to- I'm sorry, please don't cry, Mami please don't cry-"
* * *
"Don't cry, Noah-"
"But _why_?"
Damn it all, it _hurts_ , it hurts that a good man is going to jail for doing the right thing, and it hurts that her son is bawling his eyes out-
"Because…"
_Because there's no justice in the world anymore. Because the world is a horrible place, because every day I promise I'll make it better for you, my love, and every day I fail again and again-_
Her arms wrap around Noah, and Noah lets out a sob as he buries his head in her neck. "I wanna play with Uncle Rafa, Mommy! Why can't I anymore?!"
"Because Uncle Rafa made a mistake, and he has to leave for a while to fix it."
"Like Grandma Sheila?" Noah hiccups.
_No, not like Sheila. Sheila was never anything but selfish and she wanted to ruin our lives… Rafael fights for good and it's not his fault that what's fair and what's lawful never overlap anymore… Those two should never be compared…_
"Yes… I guess it is sort of like Grandma Sheila."
"I wanna see her too! When can we, Mommy? Can we if I clean my room? I'll be good, I promise!" For just a moment Noah's eyes gleam with hope. The boy is still at a young, innocent enough age to believe being good can fix everything.
"No, Noah. We can't. I'm sorry." Olivia wants to soften the blow, to promise him something else instead, but can't bring herself to.
"But why?" The tears start anew.
"…"
"Why not, Mommy? It's not fair!"
Doesn't she know it.
"Sometimes, Noah, things happen in life that aren't fair. I'm sorry, my love."
* * *
They go to meet McCoy together, an unspoken agreement.
Olivia's hand caresses Barba's back. She pretends not to notice the man trembling under her fingertips.
"Mr. Barba," McCoy says without preamble. "What's your decision?"
"I'll take the deal." Defeated, Barba hangs his head. "The jail time, the disbarment, all of it… I just ask for some time to get my things in order."
McCoy acquiesces, and sadly looks his former subordinate in the eye. "You were a good prosecutor, Mr. Barba. One of the best."
Rafael swallows thickly. "Till I grew a heart," he says with none of the venom he feels.
Dryly, McCoy says, "Brains, judgment, heart. Pick two."
Looking at Olivia, Rafael smiles sadly. His choice is clear to both of them.
* * *
It's Rafael's last night as a free man, and he's sitting with Olivia. His head rests on her shoulder, and she's telling him stories about her rookie years, and Rafael decides he wouldn't want to spend this night any other way.
"I'm sorry," he tells her, letting out a sigh as he shifts his head. "Not for what I did. But that it hurt you."
Olivia sighs. "I'm easy to hurt, it seems." Barba winces, but Olivia doesn't take the statement back.
"I didn't want to be like them," Barba says.
_But I am anyway, and we have to live with it._
* * *
Barba goes to sleep around midnight, but Olivia doesn't.
She doesn't sleep at all that night.
Long ago she learned that nothing in this world is free. Everything has to be won.
So she sets out in search of a miracle. Anything that can help right the world that has been so hopelessly spun upside-down.
* * *
Hours of witness statements and videos and trudging through legal tomes that give her a headache, and she finally has something that _just might_ be enough to save him.
She shows Barba first, and watches his eyes go wide, his jaw drop- "how did you?"- and she knows it'll be enough.
She knows Barba will stay with her, that they'll be squabbling at 75, like they're supposed to be.
* * *
Barba looks McCoy in the eye when he presents Olivia's evidence, a new strength invigorating his spirit.
"I won't be taking the deal," he says cheerfully.
McCoy looks the papers over, and frowns. "No. That won't be necessary, Barba. But." He sets the folder on his desk. "You have to face the consequences."
Barba nods; losing his job is small in return for not going to prison. "I understand. I was almost packed up anyway."
"Take care of yourself, Barba," McCoy says.
* * *
"What will you do?"
The question isn't unexpected, but it still catches Barba off-guard. He wants to say something sarcastic, or impressive, but the truth is that he simply doesn't know. And so he says, "Nothing, yet. I need some time to think… figure this out."
"I'll be here when you do."
He'd know as much, but it's nice to hear it aloud. He lets out a hum of approval before looking around the street, casting one last look at the office he'd spent so many years working at. Fifteen floors up, third window from the left, and damnit he's not going to cry-
But he is, and a pathetic little sob escapes him.
"Rafa," Olivia whispers, and just his name makes him fall apart, body shaking in delayed reaction to the hell the past few days have been. Olivia holds him through it, rubs his back, whispers calming words and instructs him to _breathe_.
Exhausted, he pulls away. Looks her in the eyes and feels a confusing mixture of despair and hope.
He takes a steadying breath, and declares, "I don't know what I'm going to do… but I know for now, I just want to be with you and Noah. My family."
Olivia grabs his hand. "We would love that."
Rafael gives a thin smile, grabbing her hand back. He looks from her to the Manhattan D.A.'s office, but doesn't cry this time as she gently pulls him forward to venture into the undiscovered country. | 4910ec5d36a04fe89193893a85ec1190 | ['6b0e19d41fbd41db93b87e12547c7b7a'] | "Would you rather just hide yourself from them? It's been eating you alive, I can see that clearly enough." George looked concerned, but as always, undisturbed. Elliot wondered what it would take to get a reaction from George. And the fact the George was succeeding in getting a reaction from him, set his anger off.
"Stop doing that. I know what I'm thinking already; I don't need you to tell me!"
"If you know what you're thinking, and that it bothers you, why won't you do anything about it?" George asked.
"Fuck off!" Elliot yelled.
"No. Tell me why you won't let yourself be happy," George ordered.
"You aren't what's going to make me happy!"
"I didn't say I was," George said, looking completely unfazed. The fact that Elliot had just practically admitted his love for him seemed to do nothing to rattle George.
The doctor had defeated him, again. His blood began boiling. He was angry at the psychiatrist, but at the same time... something had been awakened in him. He was too annoyed to think about anything but the physical part of the new array of sensations.
He pushed George against a wall and kissed him furiously, a rough kiss that conveyed his frustrations better than words could. George moaned softly and Elliot shoved his tongue between George's lips, touching every surface in George's mouth with his eager tongue.
He rubbed his hardness against George, and was simultaneously relieved and disappointed when George pulled away, shaking his head. He was breathless, but he still spoke right away. "Elliot, you don't need this. You may have always felt an attraction to men... this may or may not be the first time you've been attracted to me. But, you aren't ready. There isn't anything but physical attraction, and you may be content with a purely sexual relationship, but I'm not. There has to be something there."
Elliot paused and looked downwards. "Where do I go from here?"
George sighed. "Do some thinking. Think about if you really want this. If you do, I'll try a relationship with you. But I can't risk being hurt until I know that I'm not just going to be an experiment."
Elliot gave a sigh of his own. "That sounds reasonable... see you doc."
He stood and walked away without another word, thoughts conflicted.
Elliot put a lot of thought into it over the next week. It wasn't long before he realized that he did have an attraction George, besides a physical one. It was love, but he was still having difficulty accepting it.
"So what do you think?" Elliot asked as he explained to George. He was in George's office, again.
George allowed a thoughtful look to cross his face. "I'll try it. But Elliot, you do realize that we're going to fight a lot- at least in the beginning- and that this won't be easy?"
Elliot nodded. "Yeah. But I want this. I mean, like you said, we'll probably fight a lot, because I'm still adjusting and you'll probably be annoyed by it sometimes... but I think it will be worth it."
George began to speak, but he couldn't find the words to express what he wanted to say. That he wanted to ease Elliot's transition, that he wanted to show Elliot that love between men was as normal as between a man and a woman. That he would make Elliot feel like more sure of himself, that there wasn't a choice involved in homosexuality. Most of all, he wanted to say that he'd loved Elliot for too long, that he had been wanting this to happen for years. But it was too early. Saying those things would scare Elliot, and George had to do this slow and steady, or he would lose his chance with Elliot entirely.
So George stood and beckoned Elliot to follow him. They walked out of the near-deserted precinct and George drove them to his apartment. He pressed his lips to Elliot's, making the kiss soft this time. He wanted tenderness, Elliot wanted it rough- nothing about them matched.
Elliot didn't fail to notice the conflicting desires they had. Elliot wanted to feel in control, powerful, while George retained his soft-spoken personality and his more subtle need for control. Elliot wanted to feel like he wasn't exposed to George. Physically, it wasn't so bad, but mentally, he didn't want to feel vulnerable.
But it seemed there wasn't a way to get their thoughts to match. Elliot would be rash and angry, George would be calm and stoic, constantly pressing into Elliot's thoughts and causing Elliot to feel exposed. There would be times when they'd insist they hated each other.
But still, they were together in a way that they could handle. It wouldn't be easy, but it would be worth it. After all, even though George always did make him feel exposed, George always ended up helping him in the end.
Being exposed wasn't too bad. |
b94b41119c474a6e9f5a6096ab73a95e | ['6b182616145a43f5b9e792c4a7f854cd'] | This made Heiro wonder if Draco truly knew what he was doing. Draco slowly began to kiss Heiro again as he slowly slid his hands across Heiro’s exposed torso, feeling out what made Heiro moan and gasp for more. If he recalled correctly, from asking the Weasley twins about what to do, he had to make sure that Heiro was completely comfortable with the first steps before going any further. And knowing the Malfoy manor, he would rather have his lover comfortable before taking anything to the next level. He knew that he would have to hold back his pureblood instincts to possess and take complete charge of what they were doing in order to not scare his little love. There would be plenty of time later for that; provided that was what they both wanted.
But for now, he would do no such thing as he knew of what had happened to Heiro and he would not want to cause Heiro to have flashbacks of what he had suffered at the hands of those monsters. So, he kissed Heiro softly from his lips to his shoulders until Heiro was gasping for more. Heiro was biting his lip as he scratched his nails across Draco’s back. Heiro was sure at this point in his life that he was ready, ready for Draco to make Heiro was his. He was positive that he was making the right decision, so he moved his head to the side to show Draco that he could go further, take more control. Heiro wanted him to know that he was ok with all that was going on. With the small shift from Heiro, Draco understood what was happening decided to follow his instincts and what he felt was right. so bit down on Heiro’s neck enough to bruise and then licked it to sooth away the pain. Heiro gasped as he scrambled to take off their shorts; he wanted to be skin to skin with Draco. He wanted it more than he wanted to breath. Draco chuckled at Heiro and his movements while helping him by tearing off Heiro’s shorts before taking off his own.
As Heiro looked at Draco, for the first time seeing him completely naked, and gasped at what he saw. Draco was well endowed which made Heiro slightly embarrassed with his own body. The way Draco was looking at him with such lust and affection though, made Heiro less embarrassed and more shy. Draco’s eyes were filled with such love that it radiated off him in waves. Draco slowly rubbed his palms up Heiro’s legs up to his hips then to his waist until they were chest to chest, thigh to thigh. Draco pushed slightly up to give friction to their aroused members trapped between them, experimenting. Heiro threw his head back into the pillow giving Draco another chance to kiss and mark his throat so that when they got back to school, everyone would know that Heiro was his.
“I need to go to my trunk so I can get something that will make this a lot easier for us, so I won’t hurt you,” Draco said getting up to get what he needed.
Heiro whined at the loss but Draco hurried to the trunk and then hurried back to Heiro; he needed to feel the smaller boy's soft skin against his once again. Draco was roughly pulled by Heiro once he got in reach of the boy and fell on top of him. Heiro moaned slightly and left Draco with no choice but to possessively take Heiro’s mouth into a searing kiss that took both their breath away. Heiro was the first to pull away for breath and Draco took his distraction as an opportunity to quickly think the wandless spell George had taught him that made sure that the passage being used was cleaned. He was surprised that it actually worked; if Heiro’s shiver was any indication. He kissed his way down Heiro’s body until he was looking at Heiro’s arousal; but instead of paying attention to the member that stood at attention he went straight for Heiro’s entrance and licked at it making Heiro gasp and start at the sensation.
“Dray! What are you doing?,” Heiro asked gasping as Draco lapped at his entrance. “I believe its called rimming. Fred and George told me all about it and gave me a book about so I would be prepared to make you comfortable and such,” Draco explained between swipes of his tongue. Then he grabbed the lube that he had dropped on the bed and opened it so he could smear it across his fingers and stretch his love so he could take his girth. He slipped his tongue inside his love and wiggled the tip around and felt Heiro clench around his wet muscle.
Heiro heard the noise of a bottle being opened but he knew what it was. He was unsure though, of what Draco was doing. At first, he had wanted to tell Draco no, that it was dirty, but then he remembered the weird sensation from earlier and decided that he would just allow Draco to do as he pleased because everything he was doing seemed to feel good. Then he was breached and all he could feel was a wiggling sensation that made him clench slightly in intense pleasure. Draco kissed his thighs until he was sure that Heiro was pliant enough to add a second finger. | ee78d47562834e09a46152b8593286c6 | ['6b182616145a43f5b9e792c4a7f854cd'] | Heiro was shocked that he still had that much Gryffindor courage in him; but he wanted to give Draco a thank you that only he could give, and by the way that Draco was reacting to this thank you, Heiro was pretty sure that his thank you was very much appreciated. Heiro was slightly nervous though for he was still young and he was unsure if he wanted to go any further than just kissing and cuddling, but by the way that Draco was merely holding him close and kissing him Heiro was pretty sure that Draco felt the same way. Heiro was still unsure on how he felt on the whole sexual part of their relationship so he just pushed it off to the back of his mind and continued to kiss Draco with all that he had.
When the need to breath became dire they finally pulled away and smiled breathlessly at each other. Draco and Heiro laughed and breathed hard as they rolled and fell back onto the bed with Draco on top of Heiro. Heiro was amazed that Draco looked so handsome even with his hair all mussed and slightly red from blushing and lack of oxygen.
“Merlin, you’re beautiful,” Draco said with a smile and that made Heiro blush a deep red.
Heiro giggled softly, “Funny that you say that, I was just thinking the same thing about you,” he admitted.
Draco laughed and shook his head. He bent down and kissed Heiro once more. This one was slower and seemed to convey more emotion in it as well. This kiss made Heiro gasp at how tender and loving it felt. Draco took advantage of the gasp and slowly slipped his tongue into his lover’s mouth coaxing Heiro’s tongue to play along. Heiro blushed at the feeling and began to pick up what Draco was doing so he copied the motions. At a small push against Heiro’s tongue, Heiro gave a soft moan that made both boys blush in shock, but that did not stop them from continuing with the kiss.
Draco and Heiro finally broke away for the time being when they heard Heiro’s stomach growl in hunger. They pulled apart with an abrupt laugh, they both were hungry for they had not eaten breakfast. With a call another house elf popped into the room.
“Dandy, will you be so kind as to make us some lunch? Perhaps something light and then dinner you and the others can go all out as a welcoming feast?” Draco kindly asked the house elf.
“Of course Master Malfoy, sir. We shall be bringing yous and Master Yaxley a good lights meal,” Dandy replied and Heiro was shocked over how proper she had spoken.
Draco turned just in time to see the confusion on Heiro’s face and he chuckled.
“You must be wondering why they are all so proper when the only house elf you have met before was not as proper and did not speak as well as the ones here,” Draco guessed and Heiro nodded. “Well, you see, Dobby was never really ours. In fact, before he came to work for us, he was Aunt Bella’s, but she gave him to us because he scared her with the way he acted. She said that she had gotten him from a home that had a lonely house elf still waiting for it’s deceased masters to come back from where they were going before they passed, but years had gone by and Dobby kinda just lost it because he no longer had masters that were alive.”
Heiro was shocked, but that made a lot more sense than what Dobby said when they had first met. Just as he was about to say something, Dandy come in the room with a covered silver platter and placed it on the table in the middle of the room. Draco dismissed Dandy and with a bow she popped away once more. Draco uncovered the tray and revealed an artfully arranged array of light foods such as fruit and vegetables along with finger sandwiches, Heiro had to laugh at how cute everything was. Draco and Heiro sat at the table and talked about everything that came to mind while they ate. Draco talked about all the things he did in the one class they did not share and Heiro talked about how annoying Cedric Diggory was and how he always asked if Heiro knew what the last task was. Draco scoffed at that remark and Heiro nodded in agreement.
They talked until the food was gone and Draco called for Dandy for the final time. Dandy took the platter and then was gone with a pop. The boys then decided that they were going to look around for a little while and explore more of the rooms. They found a lot of rooms including one that seemed to recreate the seasons which amazed Heiro to no end. Draco led Heiro into the room and watched as Heiro played with the fallen leaves and made piles of them as well. Then once Heiro was tired out they walked back to their room to get ready to go for a swim in the pool. They got in their swimsuits and Heiro ran to the pool while Draco strode leisurely along behind him. The day seemed to pass by quickly because they were having so much fun. |
6d69ba589bd144bc93aa4773109e78c4 | ['6b19b443bcc44b20984f2d2dcdf0b01f'] | Then she cups my chin into her hand and starts kissing me. Or rather, starts kissing the ball between my lips. Either way, she’s feeling damn generous today. Slowly, tenderly at first, but soon it becomes more than that. Her hips begin to grind against my leg, her warm breath fills my mouth with every little moan as she tugs the balls with her teeth. I want to taste her. I want her lips against mine and I want to feel her tongue, but there’s this stupid shitty little piece of plastic in the way. All my I can feel is my own drool dripping down. It should be my lips she’s tugging at, nibbling the soft flesh and the texture of her skin on my tongue, not this smooth piece of crap and its holes. Instinctively my body tries to get closer to hers, longing for the contact of her skin. With every inch I bend forward she takes one back until I’m hunched over as far as my bond will allow, our bodies still apart. Her impish smile is back, for real this time. Fuck. She wasn’t being generous in the slightest bit.
My heart is racing, a low throbbing in my ears. Lapis is right there, barely a foot in front of me. And she’s caressing herself. Her hand is cupped between her legs, the other flowing along the curves of her hip, her waist, slowly creeping up on her breast. There’s nothing I can do, nothing but listen to every gasp and moan as she rocks her hips rock back and forth, nothing but look at every inch of her skin, every movement and muscle contraction bringing her closer and closer to the edge. I can sense her eyes crawling over me, setting my nerves afire as they pass. For a second, our eyes lock and right then I notice, heck I can feel her fingers pinch her nipple as if it were my own. It sends a tremor across my body that wakes a feral appetite in my insides. Her voice fills my head and I know she’s screaming louder just to tease me, but I’m past the point of caring. My entire being is eager for her touch, for anything really. My skin is burning, my hands sweaty and every muscle tense against the rope and I know I’m pulling too hard because it hurts now but at least it’s something. I want to scream at her, tell her to stop screwing around and start screwing me. So I do, only there’s little more than drool and unintelligible sounds coming out of my mouth.
“Sounds like you’re trying to say something, Jasper. Maybe you’re too hot?” she asks, plucking a bead of sweat off my stomach. In my current state it’s all it takes to send a shiver trough my spine. It gives me goosebumps all over, every inch of skin in high alert, itching for more. She leans closer, her hand hovering over my breast, my stomach, my inner thigh… I bite into the gag as hard as possible and it’s all I can do to repress a whimper. Between us, the distance verging on nothing is maddening.
At long last the warmth of her hand covers my center. A moment of pure bliss. Her body finally settled against mine, the smell of her hair filling my nose and her fingers sliding into my slit. I savor every second of it, taking in all the little details: every nibble along my neck, the softness of her lips and the sharpness of her teeth; every breath she exhales on my skin, their rhythm, sound and heat; and every touch, the light scraping of her nails on my back and the slow thrust of her fingers inside me. Harder.
“Mine,” she whisper.
Her fingers accelerate and her thumb presses against my swollen clit. My whole body trembles at the pressure building inside me. Lapis’ tongue flicks over the erect tip or my breast, her nails rake my side making me draw a deep, shuddering breath. I’m about to climax as her teeth encase the tip of my nipple and—fuck.
I groan. Fuck that hurts. I was so close too. Then again, I’m not exactly far either. I focus on her thumb rubbing my clit, the electricity it sends up my spine, only a little more…
“You’re mine.”
But her bite interrupts me again. Shit, that was way too hard; her clawing is hurting too. I don’t like this one bit. Why did we have to come to this miserable place to begin with. The CTR TV’s high pitched noise, the humming of the air-conditioner, the cheap-ass wallpaper all over: nothing here makes me comfortable. Even the fingers inside me feel alien. This is too much, it has to stop now, right now. I try to say “Malachite, Malachite,” but the safe word comes out distorted by the gag. Holy shit, she can’t understand me. I’m panicking and I try to move but my hands and feet are bound and it hurts, it hurts so bad, everything hurts from every side, I want to stop, I want to go home, I want to leave this place, this fucking room all blurry from the water welling in my eyes. I’m scared, I’m terrified of the bellow of rage leaving her mouth:
“You’re mine now, and I’m never letting you go!”
**Author's Note:**
> Thing I did for a JaspisBomb event long ago on Tumblr.
> Special thanks to Bryman for helping me polish this. | 908528887bf646ffb5010d7614cbc7c2 | ['6b19b443bcc44b20984f2d2dcdf0b01f'] |
Riptide queen
What a fucking day. First, the nerd pushes all her share of the work on me because she can’t do shit by herself, then I also have to deal with the G-squad. I swear to god she was this close to receiving a headbutt trough her fucking smile. I would have split those teeth wide open… teeth…
“Hnnnrg…”
“Too hard?” Lapis asks, her lips moving on my neck with every word. It’s soothing, just like her hand coursing through my mane. Simply calling it ‘hair’ at this point is a euphemism, just like saying I messed up a little today is a euphemism. There’s no way around it: it was an absolute fuck-up. I’m still thinking about it, so I clearly need more.
“Fuck no. Harder,” is my reply.
She doesn’t indulge me right away though. She never does. She hums for a moment, an air as soft as her voice, leaving a trail of kisses along my jawline. The trail curves downward until it reaches my shoulder. I feel her tongue outlining the marks of a minute ago, the tip of hers fingers gliding around the discolored spots of skin on my back and all at once her teeth and nails sink right back into my flesh. She’s in a generous mood today.
“Fuuuuu—” I begin, the rest lost in a silent exhale. It hurts so good. Just as the jolt of pain dissipates, I hear myself mutter “Harder.”
“You’re in a feisty mood tonight,” she purrs, looking up at me. “Too bad I don’t feel like it right now.”
That’s a lie. A flat out lie. A lie as obvious as her fucking grin and she’s aware of it too. The brat knows that I can’t read her for shit except when she wants me to. She wants to play, wants to hear me beg and I certainly can’t simply make her do what I want, not with my hands tied to my ankles behind my back. I’m just a big useless pile of flesh, sitting on a mattress too hard and creaky to sleep on. It does the job for what we’re doing though. Since she’s straddling my leg I could probably topple her by squirming somehow, but that wouldn’t help me much.
“Go to hell Lapis, you want this as much as I do.”
That certainly won’t help much either, but with her perky tits brushing against my own breasts, my mind is going blank.
“Tsk tsk, such a foul mouth. That is no way to ask for a favor now, is it?”
I could capitulate to her, act like the good little pet she wants me to be. I would receive all the little treats, get all the biting I want. That’s taking the easy way out, though, and I’m not one to go down that road. I may be tied up, but I’m still the one in charge here.
“Fuck you. I said harder.”
For a moment, I see hear eyes gleaming like mirrors and my reflection in it, looking back at myself with a savage smile. Lapis tries to look angry, and succeeds to a certain extent, but she cannot completely conceal the impish grin beneath it. Alright not really, she genuinely looks angry and normally that would probably scare the shit out of me; there’s a storm in her you don’t want to wake. However, right now it’s only a facade. I can guess from the sudden wetness between her legs. Shit, that’s probably worse. What have I gotten myself into.
“As it happens, I have just the thing to fix that language of yours.”
From her bag, she produces a gag. A round little thing filled with holes and connected to leather straps on both sides. Since when does she have that? As soon as I open my mouth to ask, it’s between my teeth and she’s already fastening it behind my neck. The goddamn thing is getting stuck in my hair. She should know better by now. When she loosens it to untangle the mess she made, I naturally yell: “What the—”, but before another sound can come out she pushes the gag right back in. Dead serious, she stares at my with those deep blue eyes of hers. Eyes you could drown into.
“Shut up and stop moving.”
I lose myself in these eyes of hers, drifting away in an endless ocean of blue. God she’s hot. Before I know it, the collar is fixed in place.
“Sorry about that, I got a tad overexcited.”
No shit. My leg is soaking wet.
“I’ve been waiting for a while to use it and you seemed in a particularly bad mood.”
And she understood it meant I needed to to blow off steam. I didn’t say anything yet she can read me like an open book. Or maybe she just wanted to shut me up for once. I don’t see it, but I hear the sound of a slap against my right cheek, then the sharp sting.
“That, that’s your punishment for talking back to me. Now, before we go further, does the gag bothers you or can we keep going like this?”
The sudden shift from severeness to tenderness in her tone confuses me a little, not to mention the sudden slap, but I’m too turned on to refuse her anything right now so I simply nod. Just as quick as the first one, another smack hits my left.
“That, that’s your reward for playing along with my toy.” |
42724638b80342f6adf9388933a2549f | ['6b1b536157334ded98a1701e8f1b9c99'] | > _My dear, I do beg of you to receive Mr. Holmes kindly and without prejudice. He is a little eccentric in his manner, but underneath it he is a very good sort of man, and most handsome, too, as you will soon see for yourself. Though the latter is not a vital quality in a mate, it does make the idea of looking across the breakfast table at the same countenance for the rest of one’s life far easier to bear._
>
> _And on that frivolous note, I am, as ever, your loving aunt,_
>
> _Emily Stamford_
Molly’s disappointment on receiving this missive was palpable. Either this Mr. Holmes was a most unusual man indeed, or her uncle had finally persuaded Aunt Emily that their niece would be better served accepting an offer than pers _isting in the ways of an incorrigible bluestocking_ as he’d once put it.
That memory still rankled. Had she been born a man, her predilection for science and natural philosophy would have been not only indulged, but praised!
“Have some of this excellent bread, Miss Hooper,” Mr. Holmes said, breaking into her thoughts. The innkeeper had delivered a basket of fresh-baked rolls to the table, and Mr. Holmes was now holding out a steaming half, butter spread liberally over it and rapidly melting.
“Thank you,” she said, and as she took it, her stomach gave an audible growl of lust at the mere scent. Her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment -- and indeed, Mr. Holmes was looking amused as he bit into his own half roll -- but she took a small bite of the bread and tried to compose herself. She decided that honesty would be the best policy with Mr. Holmes, and accordingly said, after another sip of wine, “I know I owe you an explanation.”
“As you will, Miss Hooper. I understand what a shock it must have been to run across the very person you were hoping to avoid in leaving your home in such a precipitate manner, but I assure you I am no ogre and do not mean to press you to do anything you would not like. To tell you the truth, I was hesitant to visit you in the first place, and can sympathize entirely with your reluctance to enter into the married state.”
Molly stared at him, and then said, “What an odd man you are, Mr. Holmes!”
“Well… yes!” he said. “I was under the impression that… er… oddity was what you were searching for in a mate.”
She laughed a little. “I wouldn’t put it quite that way, but perhaps my uncle would.”
“How would _you_ put it, then?”
She said, slowly, considering her words, “You may think it strange of me, but I believe I would value respect more than the fleeting infatuation that passes for love in these modern times. I… I have studied natural philosophy for a number of years now, and have only scratched the surface of what I wish to learn. I am not opposed to marriage, _per se_. But I cannot conceive of allying myself with any gentleman who might prove an impediment to my chosen avocation.” She felt herself colouring as she added, “I daresay that sounds monstrously selfish. I fear that’s the sort of person I am, however.” And she dared to look straight into those piercing, pale blue eyes… or were they pale green? She was aware of a strange internal _frisson_ under their steady gaze.
“I see,” Mr. Holmes replied, thoughtfully. “But you do say _avocation_ , I note. Can it be inferred that you are not averse to taking up the day to day duties required of a wife and mother, provided you are allowed sufficient leeway in the pursuit of your studies?”
“I would say so, yes. In fact, I would like, someday, to be able to have the running of my own house. And of course, nurses are all very well but children also need the care only a loving mother can give.”
Mr. Holmes smiled slightly. “Do you like children?”
And for the first time, Molly smiled, too. “Indeed, yes! I have helped raise my stepmother’s children, and one of my greatest joys is to stay with my aunt and uncle in London and help with my cousins.
Mr. Holmes smile grew sardonic. “Dr. Stamford does have quite the brood. Six, I believe.”
“Yes, and all of them such dear creatures, too.”
“I daresay.” He sat back and studied Molly for a moment, and she lifted a brow and returned the favor, which again brought a sincere smile to his lips. And then he said, “Ah! Finally!” as it was seen that the innkeeper’s wife had emerged from the kitchen and was now approaching, followed by two underlings with laden trays. “Shall we postpone further discussion of this particular topic until after dinner? I feel there is hope that we may come to an understanding, but hunger… intrudes.”
Molly chuckled and said, “I am entirely of your way of thinking, Mr. Holmes.”
“On all points?”
A little of her humor faded, but she replied thoughtfully, “Perhaps.”
* | a77a0137dfad420b9b21f9213bec357c | ['6b1b536157334ded98a1701e8f1b9c99'] |
Well, too bad for her, Sherlock thought, grimly....
**Author's Note:**
> For the "Spade" prompt.
>
>
>
> **********************************
Though St. Ives was a pretty little seaside resort, the property of Mrs. Helen Cecilia Byrd was set some way inland from the picturesque harbor and was of more substantial size than most. The house itself was moderate, a comfortable English cottage, built no more than a century before, grey stone trimmed in white, and meticulously maintained. There were white lace curtains in the windows, too, a brass knocker on the red-painted door, and a wisp of smoke rising in a leisurely manner from the chimney. The front garden was small and still replete with flowers, even this late in the season, but as Sherlock pulled up to the curb to park the car he’d “borrowed” from Mycroft, he caught a glimpse of a back garden that was both wide and deep. A very green and neatly mown lawn faded into a distant stand of trees, now touched with autumn color, and before these stood what appeared to be a number of beehives.
Eminently homey and comfortable. Just the sort of place Molly would love.
Well, too bad for her, Sherlock thought, grimly.
He got out of the car and, girding his loins (as it were), strode up the neat flagged path, mounted the steps, and knocked briskly on that cheery door. Instantly, the raucous yapping of a pack of diminutive dogs sounded from within, followed by the muffled clucking of an elderly woman, giving the little blighters a singularly ineffective scold as she approached. Sherlock winced as she opened the door, for the yapping increased to an excruciating level as the dogs -- overfed miniature spaniels of some sort -- raced out and surrounded him.
“Bloody hell,” he could not help hissing, though this was certainly not the way to recommend himself to Molly’s godmother.
Said godmother, a lady in her late seventies, with neatly coiffed grey hair, a flowered dress, pink cardigan, and a pinny, said apologetically. “Oh, I’m so sorry. _Pooh! Piglet!_ Stop that right now! _Fluffernut, get down!_ You’ll be shedding all over the gentleman’s trousers!”
The latter statement was soon seen to be no more than the truth, and by the time Mrs. Byrd had herded her charges back into the house, Sherlock had acquired a couple of paw prints as well, one of the wretched beasts having broken off to make a brief foray into the rain-soaked flowerbed before resuming its assault.
“I’m so very sorry,” Mrs. Byrd said, again, as she closed the door on them. “They really are very good, once they get to know you.”
“I’m sure they are,” Sherlock said, attempting to smile without gritting his teeth. “Are you Mrs. Byrd? I’m Sherlock Holmes.”
“Yes, I thought you might be.” She gave Sherlock a look up and down, her eyes twinkling. “Molly has told me a great deal about you, you see.”
_Molly._ Sherlock suddenly found himself somewhat short of breath. “Is Molly here?”
“Oh, yes, she’s in the back garden, spading a bit of my vegetable patch so we can plant the peas this afternoon. But… Mr. Holmes, are you quite well?”
Sherlock cleared his throat. “Yes. Fine.”
“You look a bit pale, but perhaps it’s the light, such a beautiful, sunny day, is it not? Molly was so happy the rain has stopped, and now with you here…” Mrs. Byrd looked a little conscious. “You… you _will_ be very good to her? She’s been… a trifle anxious about… things.”
Sherlock said nothing, but reached into his pocket, took out the small velvet box, and opened it for her.
Her reaction was all he could have wished. She gasped, and raised a face wreathed in smiles, her eyes glistening with sentimental tears. He could not refrain from smiling crookedly in return, and she sighed blissfully. “Oh, you are every bit as handsome as she told me!” Then, remembering herself, added, “Though handsome is as handsome does, as they say.”
Sherlock’s smile faded to a slight grimace.
But the little lady patted his arm comfortingly. “I’m sure you will behave just as you ought -- from now on, at least. Now you go around the side of the house, there’s a path, and I don’t believe it’s _too_ muddy. I’ll just go in and ready some tea things, for… for after. To celebrate!” She gave a firm nod, another smile, and went back into the house, squeezing through the door while bestowing additional fond admonitions on her over-enthused greeting committee.
Sherlock, feeling (and, sadly, looking) somewhat worse for wear, re-pocketed the ring, made his way back down the steps, and headed around the side of the house, as instructed. Unfortunately, he found that the path was rather muddier than Mrs. Byrd had predicted, and his expensive shoes began to sink in goo at every step. Then, when he’d nearly reached the back corner of the house, he slipped and nearly fell, though ultimately he managed to stay on his feet.
He was shaken, though. And tired (he’d barely slept for days). Hungry, too -- the mere mention of tea had made him suddenly peckish, probably not surprising since he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. And he was thoroughly disgusted with his appearance. Ordinarily he didn’t mind a little dirt, at least not in the course of The Work, but this was different. He’d hoped to more or less sweep Molly off her feet with his devastating good looks and charm of manner in this important confrontation, and obviously he’d hoped in vain. (Not that she wouldn’t see through such tricks, anyway; those days were long past.)
And yet, mere seconds later, finally emerging into the back garden and steadier ground, he knew that none of that mattered in the least. |
fbe5a4f490a440eb9ddb0b9048842916 | ['6b436d5c9d50464786bf098eeff7bf1c'] | > Oh my God, what, another chapter? Wow. I love you guys so much. I'm trying to get better with making the chapters longer and stuff, like I dunno, do you guys like the chapter length? I feel like they're so short. Another chapter might not be up till next week now because family stuff is going on this weekend for me, so sorry.
>
> Also, that was my first kiss scene, so sorry if it sucked, I know it probs does, but oh well. Just tell me what you think and what I could improve on and I'll do my best to make the next one better.
>
> Alright! Enjoy reading!
Castiel swallows his medicine with a cup of orange juice the next morning. He feels wrong. He has a bad taste in his mouth, and hardly slept at all last night. He kept having dreams about Dean leaving his life in so many different ways, and it was painful every time. The radio is on and is playing Jingle Bell Rock while his mother moves around the kitchen in her robe, making breakfast for the household.
“Aren’t you excited, Cas?” Mom asks. She flips a pancake on the pan, her back to him. She hums along to the song.
“For what?” Castiel questions. He downs the last of his juice then gets up to pour a second cup of coffee for himself.
“For Christmas, sweetheart!” His mom exclaims. She turns, with one hand gripping the spatula. Castiel shrugs and his mom frowns. “What’s wrong, honey?”
“Nothing,” Castiel mutters. He sips the coffee and scrunches his nose when he realizes he forgot to put cream and sugar into the drink.
“No,” his mom scolds, “remember? We talked about this. If something is wrong, you can’t leave me out of the loop anymore.”
Regret sails through him as he sees the sadness seep into his mother’s eyes. He hadn’t meant to do that. He hadn’t meant to do so many things, and yet he’s still messing up everything. “It’s Dean,” Castiel shrugs and sips more of his coffee, not even bothering with sweetening it. How the hell can Dean drink coffee without sugar and cream?
“What about, Dean? Did you guys fight?” His mom furrows her brow. “Actually, I was going to ask where he went off to.”
“Why?”
“I thought he would’ve stayed the night.” She places the pancake on a plate and puts foil over it, pouring more batter into the pan. “Can you get the syrup and butter, please?”
Castiel goes to the fridge to get both items and sets them on the table. “No, we didn’t fight,” Castiel finally says.
“Then what’s the matter?”
Castiel goes back to his mug of unhappiness and grimaces. “I kissed him.”
“And how was that?” His mother asks.
Castiel frowns. “You’re not mad?”
She turns back to face him. “Why would I be mad?”
“I-I don’t know,” Castiel stammers. He drinks some more coffee, loving the burn.
“Because you kissed a man?” Castiel nods slowly. His mother laughs. “Cas, just because you love someone who has the same bits as you, doesn’t mean I could love you any less or be mad at you for that.”
Castiel’s smile is small. “Thanks, Mom.”
“But what’s wrong with kissing, Dean?” His mother asks. “It seemed like he likes you, too.”
“I don’t know,” Castiel says. He wraps his hands around the mug, and even though it hurts, he keeps doing it, because then it’ll make the hollowness in his chest feel less empty. “We were just goofing around and then I kissed him. He left afterwards. I don’t think he wants to see me again,” Castiel says, looking down and frowning at the Eeyore mug, like it’s its fault everything happened.
“Honey,” his mom says, flipping the pancake then putting the spatula down and making her way over to him. She places her hands on his face. “It’s been what, twelve hours? I’m sure it’s fine. You both can forget about it and go back to the things were.” She pats his cheek.
“Mom, I don’t want to forget it,” Castiel says, his stomach twisting into uncomfortable knots at the thought. He doesn’t want to forget the kiss. He wants to remember the spark he felt, the joy he experienced before the peck, and everything in between then and the beginning of their meeting.
“I’m going to go lay down. I don’t feel that great,” Castiel mutters. His mother steps away, looking as sad as Castiel feels.
“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, but Castiel just shrugs and takes his bitter drink to his room with him.
He listens to sad songs for the rest of the day, feeling as if he just broke up with someone, even though they’d never dated in the first place.
“Hey, Cassie,” Gabriel barges into his brother’s room. Castiel sits up on his bed after staring at the ceiling for what seems like hours. Castiel has a Santa suit on, complete with the beard and pillow stuffed shirt.
“Gabe? What are you doing?” Castiel reaches over to pause the music playing from his stereo.
“We are going to do God’s work,” Gabriel grins.
“And what is God’s work?” Castiel asks as he stands up and stretches, cracking his back as he does so.
“Giving gifts to families who can’t afford any, now go have a shower. You reek and we need to get going,” Gabriel says and shoves Castiel out of his room. Gabriel roots through Castiel’s dresser and pulls out random clothes before throwing them at Castiel.
“Hey, Santa,” the bus driver calls to Gabriel as they step onto the bus, both carrying two bags of donated toys. | fd5e49b779c24071b32d9357c8891ead | ['6b436d5c9d50464786bf098eeff7bf1c'] | “You’re so weird,” Castiel comments as he looks at Dean with a mixture between fondness and admiration.
Dean just pushes Castiel gently and Castiel is still smiling when Dean says, “I don’t know about you, but I’m not that tired anymore.”
Castiel forgot why they even left the bus at all. “Oops. That backfired,” he laughs.
“Let’s go get coffee or something,” Dean proposes. He sounds almost shy as he says it.
“Sounds good,” Castiel says. They both leave the alley and Castiel suggests going to Gabriel’s bakery.
“Sure, what’s it called?” Dean asks.
“La Casa.”
“Home? I don’t really remember Spanish from school, but I still know a bit,” Dean responds.
“Same. Gabriel speaks it fluently, so that’s why he named the bakery that,” Castiel says. Castiel avoids a lady pushing a baby in a stroller and steps closer to Dean.
“That’s cool. I think Sam goes there a few times a week,” Dean replies.
“Sam?” Castiel asks, raising his eyebrow as he looks at Dean.
Dean turns to him and nods. “Yeah, he’s my little brother, but he looks like Sasquatch.”
Castiel laughs, but then it hits him. He actually pauses on the sidewalk, and looks around as if confused. Dean stops as well then stands in front of Castiel. “Are you okay?” Dean questions. He puts his hand on Castiel’s shoulder.
Castiel shakes his head, tilts it, and squints. “I think my brother likes your brother,” he states.
Dean chokes on air and Castiel keeps them moving by placing his hand in between Dean’s shoulders and pushing him gently. “What the hell?” Dean’s voice cracks on the last word.
Castiel just shrugs. “Gabriel talks about him and he was blushing the other day when Sam came into the bakery. He actually wanted me to confront Sam because he was too busy being nervous.”
Dean doesn’t say anything, just has a vacant look on his face. “Are you okay, Dean?” Castiel asks, concern marring his features.
Dean nods slowly. “Sam also talks about Gabriel.”
“Really?” Castiel almost passes the bakery, then turns them around and pushes open the door, the bell chiming their entrance.
“Yeah,” Dean says. Castiel takes his hand away and goes to the counter where Charlie is working alongside Gabriel.
Castiel tugs at Dean’s sleeve before they reach the counter.“We should be wingmen,” Castiel suggests.
Dean furrows his brow and asks, “To whom?”
“Gabriel and Sam,” Castiel says. “Sam must like Gabriel as well, right?”
“I don’t know, Cas,” Dean says. He pulls Castiel to the counter. Charlie smiles when she sees Castiel, and the harmless smile morphs into a shit-eating grin when she sees Dean.
“Who’s this, Cas?” Charlie asks.
Castiel feels heat crawling up his neck, understanding where Charlie is coming from. “Charlie, this is Dean, my friend,” Castiel makes sure to emphasize that he and Dean are not a couple. “Dean, this is Charlie.”
“Hiya,” Charlie says too happily, waving at Dean.
“Hi, Charlie,” Dean replies with a smile.
Charlie smiles mischievously, then looks to Castiel with a perplexed expression. “Why aren’t you in class?”
“We’re playing hooky,” Castiel says, glancing at Dean.
“Dorks,” Charlie mutters, and then she clears her throat as if she didn’t say anything at all. “What can I get you guys?” She asks.
“Just a black coffee for me,” Dean says and looks to Castiel.
“A mocha, please,” he responds.
Charlie types the order into the register and says, “Seven dollars, please.”
Castiel begins to lift up his satchel to root in a pocket for money when Dean is already placing a ten in Charlie’s pale hand. “Dean,” Castiel starts to protest, and Charlie notices, so she quickly stuffs the money into the register and gets the change for Dean.
“Too late,” she says with that shit-eating grin plastered on her face again. She passes the money to Dean and Castiel squints at Charlie’s back, trying to burn a hole through her as she turns to make their drinks. They step to the side and Gabriel leans against the other side of the counter to talk to them.
“Gabriel,” Gabriel states as he eyes Dean and sticks out his hand for Dean to shake.
“Dean,” Dean replies and shakes Gabriel’s hand. Castiel can’t help but imagine them as caveman as they say their names. He snickers at the thought and stops when both men give him funny looks.
“What are your intentions towards my brother, Dean-o?” Gabriel questions and raises an eyebrow.
“We’re just friends,” Dean replies, trying to look unaffected, but his burning ears are giving him away.
“You keep telling yourself that,” Gabriel chides and goes back to working.
Castiel hits Dean on the shoulder. “Hey, what was that for?” Dean groans, clutching his shoulder.
“I was going to pay,” Castiel says.
“Oh,” Dean smiles. “You can get it next time, man.”
Castiel squints at Dean then says, “You bet your ass I will.”
Dean laughs, throwing his head back. He looks so beautiful in this moment, so at ease and fascinating. Castiel wishes he could take a picture of Dean. His laugh is a sound Castiel will never be able to stop listening to. It’s like coming home after a long trip, and it makes Castiel’s stomach tighten.
Charlie comes by and passes them their coffees with a sly smile. “Stop it,” Castiel says, narrowing his eyes at her.
“No way,” Charlie replies with the smile still on her face.
“I don’t like you,” Castiel lies.
“You love me, you idiot,” Charlie laughs as she leaves them alone.
Castiel smiles fondly at her. He and Dean make their way to an empty table and after Castiel has taken a sip of his drink, Dean asks, “Do you really love her?” |
d7cc270a56b94c0a9d980ca7971816c5 | ['6b4553cd8fd040ebbd680042546aa4a2'] | Ruby glared at him slightly as Gwen shook her head. “You’ve been hidden down here too long,” she commented. “Spending so much time with the alien stuff, you’ve lost what it means to be human.”
Jack and Ruby exchanged a knowing look before they looked back to Gwen. “So remind us,” Jack responded.
Ruby nodded slowly and added, “Tell us what it means to be human in the 21st century.”
“Alright,” Gwen replied, before moving from the meeting room.
Ruby rested her elbows on the table, leaning on her hands as she watched Gwen go.
“...is that why you hired her?” Tosh asked, making Jack and Ruby look to the team. “Because she’s...more human?”
Ruby smiled softly while Jack chuckled. “No,” Jack stated.
“Gwen is...she has a different perspective,” Ruby explained. “All of us here do. Even Jack and I have differing perspectives.”
Jack nodded, a smile on his face. “That’s why it works so well. And...with what happened with Suzie...we figured it was smart to hire Gwen.”
“She’s different from Suzie, and has a way of thinking that...might help,” Ruby continued. “In more ways than one.”
The other three nodded, Owen and Tosh grabbing their food and leaving the room, making their way to their desks. Ianto stood and started to clean, before pausing and looking at Ruby and Jack. “...you two alright?”
He had sensed something...off when they had come back. They were sitting closer together than normal, which was saying something. Jack and Ruby seemed to move around each other seamlessly as if they knew subconsciously where the other was. That meant they were usually close and in tune with the other. But after the alarm had gone off and they had come back...something had shifted. It was small but noticeable if you looked close enough.
Ruby smiled and nodded. “Yeah, we’re good.”
“We’ll be better once this is figured out,” Jack replied, sighing and glancing at the live video of Carys.
Ianto nodded and turned off the screen. “We’ll all be.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> And here we are for another update! This chapter was fun, but the more we get into it, the more fun I have. ;)
>
> Question for this chapter....why does Ruby have an alert for the TARDIS? O.o
> Let me know what you think down below! ;)
>
> -Kay
6. Day One - Part 3
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The Torchwood Team finishes the case of Carys, but in order to save her...Jack must take a risky action to save her. Will this action indeed save Carys? And how will Ruby react when Jack takes this action?
About half an hour later, Gwen was standing with Jack and Ruby in the room adjacent to their office, putting up a picture of Carys as she spoke. “Carys Fletcher, born 13th November, 1987. School reports, personnel files from her temping agency, swimming badges. Reports of her mother's death in a car crash. And last years emails discussing the merits of Orlando Bloom and Heath Ledger.”
Ruby stepped forward and slowly looked over everything while Jack glanced at Gwen. “Why have you done this?”
Gwen glanced between the two as she replied, “This isn’t about meteorites or glasses. We have a trapped girl and we have to save her.” Ruby turned to Gwen, giving the woman her full attention as she continued. “When I was with her in the cell, Carys told me she was losing. We have to find a way to keep her fighting. Remind her to hold on to who she is.”
Jack studied Gwen face, silent, while Ruby smiled softly.
“Have I got something on me face?” Gwen asked after a moment.
Ruby laughed softly as Jack glanced at the paperwork, then back to Gwen. “No. No, no, it’s…”
Ruby placed a hand on Gwen’s arm and said, “It's brilliant. You are brilliant.”
Gwen smiled in reply. “Thank you...So I think we should bring in her dad.”
Ruby’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, while Jack’s smile fell. “You’re kidding, right?”
“We've got to find something to connect with her,” Gwen stated. “Make her fight back.”
“Our priority is to contain the alien threat, not put civilians in a cell with it,” Jack responded.
“We should be helping her,” Gwen insisted.
“We are, Gwen,” Ruby replied.
“By locking her up?” Gwen shot back.
“Gwen, there’s no other way,” Jack stated.
“If we don't, who will?” Gwen asked, glancing between the two.
Jack sighed, asking, “Are you always this awkward?”
Gwen opened her mouth to reply, when Tosh spoke over the speakers in the room. “You should take a look at this.”
Ruby took Jack’s hand and pulled him out of the room with her, Gwen sighing before following. “Whatcha got?” Ruby asked.
Tosh turned to face them and pointed to a graph on the screen. “This is the normal chemical composition of the air in that cell. And these..” She typed, and a red line popped up far above the regular line. “...are the readings from the last hour.”
“Shit…” Ruby muttered, leaning forward, studying the readings.
“The alien's secreting an ultra-powerful blend of airborne pheromones,” Tosh replied. “Sex Pheromones. Thousand times more potent than anything we'd normally experience.”
Jack sighed, glancing at Ruby. “She's a walking aphrodisiac.”
“No kidding,” Ruby agreed, nodding.
“I did wonder why I…” Gwen paused, looking at them all. “Actually, I sort of snogged her.”
“We know,” all three of them replied, Ruby looked back at the readings.
“Now, still wanna put her father in the cell?” Jack asked
“God, no. We can't let any man near…” Gwen started, before a look of recognition came across her and Tosh’s faces. “Owen.”
Tosh and Gwen instantly ran to the cell, Jack and Ruby staying in the main area. After a moment, Tosh called over the comms, “Jack, Carys is out of her cell.” | 074c76f13acd4a4c8a284815ab4123c0 | ['6b4553cd8fd040ebbd680042546aa4a2'] | “Back to the railway station,” Jack stated. “Controlled experiment- we replicate the original events as far as possible. Then observe and analyze the results.”
“I have to do that again?” Gwen asked, slightly uncomfortable with the plan.
“Someone does,” Jack replied, an edge to his voice as he turned and asked the group, “Any volunteers?” Without any warning, he threw the device at Owen, who caught it with a grunt.
“We don’t know what it is, what it does…” Gwen stepped closer to Jack, Owen still at the tail end of the group.
“Nope,” Jack replied.
“Jack, this could be dangerous,” Gwen stated.
Jack glanced at the woman. “Yeah.”
“Uhh...I don't mean to be picky,” Owen piped up. “But I think I can spot some flaws in this plan…”
“I’m sorry, I thought you were the guys who gave up looking for a 19-year-old kid this morning?” Jack snapped, the anger in him only growing from the mixture of the argument with Ruby, the lack of anything for the case, and the lack of ideas from his team. “I figured maybe you were after something more exciting. A bit of a challenge.”
Jack spun back around and continued under the bridge, just wanting to get back to the base. God, he needed a drink.
Jack, with Tosh and Gwen behind him, heard Owen mutter something, but Tosh just called his name out, encouraging him to follow. But as Owen yelled “Wait!” they spun around, Gwen rushing towards him as the device flashed familiar lights.
Jack sighed as Gwen calmed Owen down and took the device, knowing the man had just seen something. “Guess we don't need that test,” he muttered.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I am so sorry for the late update!! Life has been insane, but I school is out for the summer, so hopefully, updates will be faster!
>
> What do you guys think of this chapter? Rough start to a new case for sure. How do you think Jack and Ruby will make up? When? Let me know what you think!
>
> \- Kay Erin
8. Update
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Quick update
Hi all!
I’m am so sorry that it’s been such a long time since I’ve updated. Life has been crazy, and on top of that I’m having major writer’s block. I’m trying to write, but I want to make sure the quality of updates and chapters are high, not just satisfactory.
I’m hoping to post soon, but I’m not sure when that will be. I’m so sorry about all of this.
-Kay |
7c5afc78537d4e99842a27f9b3f81ea0 | ['6b4caa8c64034a4bb0465fad48b3f656'] |
Standing in Deep Water
**Author's Note:**
> Written for stuck_at_sea's request of more Danny/Matt for the Danny Love Fest!
"Danny, come _on_ ," Susie whines, stretching each syllable a mile long. She's tapping her little foot and glaring up at Danny, eyes making direct contact with his most likely bloodshot ones. "You're going to make me late!"
"Suz," Danny starts, pinching the bridge of his nose when his head starts pounding from the effort. "You're two feet from the door. You'll make it in time, okay?"
"This is what happens when you stay out all night," she says, sounding much less like a seven-year-old and much more like his mother.
Danny pastes on a tight smile, because he knows that he was Susie's last choice to take her to her swimming lessons, and _she_ knows this is the last thing he wants to be doing right now. "I only stayed out until three, and Dad didn't tell me I had to bring you today until twenty minutes ago. Cut me some slack."
Susie looks skeptical of it all, as she generally does, but Danny resists rolling his eyes--mostly because he knows that would hurt him more than her--and opens the door for her. Immediately Susie runs ahead of him, through another door without a single regard for him.
"I'll wait for you by the pool," Danny mutters to himself.
He hasn't been in the center for at least two years, but even in his less than stellar state he manages to find the pool area without much difficulty. Okay--mostly he just follows the scent of chlorine until it burns in his nose. There's a grand total of three people in the room when he walks in, two sitting on the small set of bleachers off to the side, talking quietly, and a third swimming laps in the pool. Oh, what do you know. They're _early_.
He's had a total of around four hours of sleep and about six drinks before that, so Danny sits as far as possible from the duo and closes his eyes shut on a groan. He's almost certain that he did something to cause this torture--his parents are probably punishing him for not taking out the trash or something.
"Hey, you're new."
It takes Danny a moment to work up the energy to crack one eye open, but when he takes in the sight before him he's suddenly wide awake. There's a very fit, very good looking dude standing in front of him, wearing just a low hanging pair of red shorts and dripping wet. Danny sort of wants to pinch himself, just to make sure this isn't some hangover-fueled hallucination or something, but then the guy smiles and Danny doesn't even care. He has a terrific smile, and Danny wishes he had known there'd be a hot guy here; he might've stopped partying with the sixes and sevens a lot earlier had he known he'd be seeing a solid ten the next day.
It takes even longer for him to realize he's supposed to address the guy's question--statement? Danny can't even remember. It's only when the guy raises an eyebrow that Danny snaps out of it and says, "Oh. Uh, yeah. Yeah, I am. My sister--uh, she's changing into her bathing suit right now." He clears his throat and holds out a hand, and tries not to smile too stupidly. "I'm Danny."
"Susie's brother?" Danny nods and the guy grins, shaking Danny's hand. He has really blue eyes. "You look alike," he says as a way of explanation. Danny's not sure if he should take that as a compliment or not, but he supposes Susie's cute when she's not a total brat so he figures it's okay. "I'm Matt, one of your sister's instructors."
Instructor? Danny's eyes dart to the door of the changing room, where Susie's just coming out now. And oh, she is so going to pay for this. It's one thing to make him miss sleep to take her to swimming lessons, but failing to mention he might want to actually look presentable because there's a totally doable guy _wet and in shorts_ teaching the course is downright cruel.
(Okay, he'd probably die if his little sister ever said "doable" in regards to _anybody_ , but the point still stands.)
"Oh," Danny says. Matt looks like he's waiting for Danny to say more, but his brain is not up to functioning right now. "Sorry," he says instead, "I'm not used to getting up this early in the morning."
"Late night last night?" Matt asks casually, and Danny's pretty sure he can feel himself start to blush.
"Um. Sort of. With friends." It's not exactly the truth, but this guy teaches little kids how to swim--Danny's pretty sure saying he was drinking until three at a gay bar would be inappropriate in this situation.
Matt nods, then scrunches his brow. "Oh, hey! You go to Beacon Hills, right?" When Danny just nods in return, Matt grins. "Yeah, hey, I thought I recognized you. You're on the lacrosse team, right?"
"Yeah," Danny says. He's a little surprised that Matt _didn't_ know him right away, given the fact that he obviously goes there, too. And that's not Danny being pompous or anything, just most people tend to remember the one openly gay athlete at the school, for better or worse.
Throughout their (somewhat brief) conversation, Danny's noticed people filtering through behind Matt, but it's not until he glances around the room that he sees all the parents sitting on the bleachers. The kids, maybe fifteen in all, are standing with two girls who must be the other instructors, and Danny suddenly feels both embarrassed and smug that he's been eating up Matt's attention. | b40eaeebe4d141b881907c575cb8c87a | ['6b4caa8c64034a4bb0465fad48b3f656'] | Jared shakes his head, fight gone out of him. "I don't wanna die, Jeff," he says quietly, but the words ring louder in Jensen's ears than anything that's been said tonight.
Jared pulls out his stake then, lets it drop to the floor and roll away. He turns around and moves right past Jensen in a fury, cheeks wet. Jensen grabs his arm but he shakes it off immediately, hand coming up to wipe at his face. "You shouldn't walk. Let me drive you home," Jensen says, trying his best to keep his voice calm.
Jensen's reward is an empty smile. "I'd rather walk, thanks."
"Jay, you shouldn't be alone right now..."
Jared just snorts and shoves his hands into his pockets. "Apparently there are a lot of things I shouldn't be doing right now," he says harshly. Then, softer: "I'm fine. Thanks anyway, Jensen."
And then he walks out.
*
Jared's not at school the next day.
Maybe it was naive to hope that he would be, but Jensen still feels a sting in his chest when he glances through the round windows on the library doors and only sees Jeff and a janitor cleaning up the mess caused two nights ago. He doesn't blame Jared for not coming because he's fairly certain he'd do the same thing if positions were reversed, but it still sucks. Jared hadn't answered his calls and texts last night, and Jensen just wants to know if he's okay.
Well, of course he knows Jared isn't _okay_ , because who would be after being told that? But he wants to know what Jared's thinking right now, if he made it home okay. He didn't quite manage to sleep last night, turning restless in his bed. The one time he did manage to relax, he dreamt of Jared gasping in front of him, bleeding from his neck. Jensen didn't even bother to try sleeping again after that.
At lunch, Danneel and Chad ask about him, and Jensen's not positive if he's supposed to tell them or not. He ends up giving them most of the information but leaves off the part about Jeff's hesitance to inform them. Jensen's doesn't know why he withholds that--he's honestly angry with Jeff for not telling Jared immediately, can't quite shake the wonder if Jeff would've even let Jared know at all had they not overheard.
He is sure that Jeff's pouring over his books to find a way to put an end to the prophecy, at least; despite what he did, he obviously did it with good intentions. Jensen would like answers, would like to know everything Jeff knows. He's certain that he couldn't do anything to actively help fight a prophecy, but he needs to at least know the details. Maybe just knowing them will give him peace of mind, or something. Anything.
He doesn't go to Jeff for the answers.
Fifth period begins and Jensen's pushing open the door of the computer lab. Miss Ferris looks up from her monitor and looks surprised. "Jensen?"
Jensen nods and closes the door, and then doesn't wait before speaking. "What do you know about the Master?"
It's not what she was expecting, clearly. Her fingers clench around her mouse, and her face goes a little slack. She recovers quickly, though, shaking her head and smiling softy. "Of course you know. Why would I assume otherwise?" She pushes her chair out and stands, slides a drawer out from her desk and pulls out a stack of papers, all neat and white. "I'm part of a network. About a week ago, this guy starts spouting off crap about apocalyptic signs. Linked to stories where dead birds fell out of the sky and spelt 'Him', a baby being born with no mouth, wells of water producing nothing but blood."
Jensen picks up the first print out. It's from a newspaper, the headline in bold print: 'POSSESSED PRIEST KILLS SIXTY-SIX.' He swallows and looks up. "That all?"
"Not even close," Miss Ferris says. She shuffles through the pages before passing it to Jensen. "Couple days ago, he warned of this... person named the Anointed One? Said they'd lead us all to Hell."
Jensen shakes his head. "No. Jared killed him," he says. He can still remember the guy's face, all twisted and wrong, the hissed prayers he spit out. Can still remember how hard the blow hit him, the power in his fist. No way that _couldn't_ be the Anointed.
Miss Ferris frowns. "That's what Jeffrey said. Big, tall guy, right?" Jensen nods, and Miss Ferris bites her lip. "This guy says the Anointed One's female. A child."
The blood in Jensen's body runs cold. "No," he says. "No, that--that can't be."
"He was right about other things," she says. "That earthquake? That was one of his first predictions."
"So what _did_ Jared kill that night?"
Miss Ferris just shrugs her shoulders. "My guess is a decoy, maybe. Something to keep Jared away from the scent." She gestures to the pile of papers. "I gave copies of this all to Jeffrey," she says. "He's looking into it. Hopefully he finds more concrete evidence, but that's really all I know."
Jensen nods and swallows, sets the paper back on the stack. "Did you also know Jared's supposed to die tomorrow night?" he asks, and somehow he finishes on a whisper.
Miss Ferris looks at him with sad eyes. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I did."
Jensen nods once more. "Right. Well, um, thanks for the information. I appreciate it." Jensen turns to leave and manages to get his hand on the doorknob before Miss Ferris speaks again, her voice soft but clear in the empty room.
"Hey, Jensen?"
"Yeah?"
"Jeffrey may have made some progress. He'd be your best bet to find out anything more recent."
Jensen nods but doesn't turn his head. "Yeah," he says carefully. "Thanks."
* |
a385ad8d39804ca69f36311446b57c8e | ['6b527ef7da754b8993faffbcb039a5fb'] | It was a boy, of course. Georgiana was a beautiful young woman and the Darcys were an old, wealthy family. Darcy was not unlike his father in that he was suspicious of everyone, and that especially included young men who were interested in his sister. Georgiana knew this, of course, and so she kept her relationship with Denny Carter almost silent.
So Darcy didn’t know that Denny was a piano instructor, who Georgiana found handsome and friendly. Darcy didn’t know that Denny had nearly everyone at the college hanging on his every word. Darcy didn’t know that Denny offered extra lessons to Georgiana, that he brought her coffee, that he met her after her lessons and talked with her. Darcy didn’t know that they were officially dating; didn’t know that his sister was falling in love; didn’t know why she was pulling further and further away from him.
But Georgiana didn’t know that Denny knew what the Darcy family was worth. She didn’t know that although he was a gifted pianist, his teaching credentials were, on the whole, made up. She didn’t know his real name was actually George Wickham, and his pseudonym was stolen from a long-deceased relative in order to keep creditors at bay. She also didn’t know that George Wickham had a family - an incredibly recent ex-wife, and two small children.
In early September Darcy became worried when he hadn’t heard from Georgiana for two days. He hated snooping, but he did it anyway. He looked into her room and found pictures of his sister and a man he didn’t recognize. He looked into her email, Twitter, and Facebook accounts and found messages of increasing intimacy. He looked into her bank account and found that she’d purchased tickets to Las Vegas. Then he purchased one himself.
For Georgiana’s part, the entire ordeal was anticlimactic. She was half elated, half angry as she waited for her wedding to take place. She was only a little surprised to see her brother. He calmly walked into the room and closed the door behind himself. She cried when the first thing he said was, “You look beautiful.”
He was calm, and so was she, as he explained why there would be no wedding. He’d already spoken to the man she thought was Denny Carter, and he was preparing to leave. And then, instead of a wedding and a celebration, there was a long, painful talk.
“I want something that's just about _me_ ,” she said, her mascara running. “Something _I_ built for _myself._ I thought. . . .” But she couldn't say what she thought.
For the first time in his life, instead of just doing what he thought was best, he asked her, “What do you want me to do?”
They discussed what was best to be done with George Wickham, and Darcy agreed to bring the false credentials of his would-be brother-in-law to the attention of school administration. Georgiana would never see him again. Once they returned home she had almost lived in her music room, but every piece of music she’d ever received from Wickham was burned in anger.
And then, on Christmas morning, he and Georgiana were sitting on the floor by the Christmas tree. For the first time, he was less apprehensive about the holiday in general - he went out shopping with her, and hadn’t gotten dressed that morning, and actually told her what he wanted for Christmas, so she wouldn’t have to guess. After they’d opened gifts - the Superman t-shirt among them - and exchanged hugs, he made her coffee. As they leaned against one another, he was feeling grateful that she was there. And like thunder it occurred to him that the house meant nothing, as long as he had her - she was what had made it what it was since their mother’s death and their father’s depression. A tear rolled down his cheek. How had he not realized that?
“Georgiana,” he finally said, “do you still want to remodel the house?” She almost dropped her cup.
Now it was July, and he was wearing a too-thick Superman t-shirt under his long-sleeved dress shirt. He prayed he wouldn’t sweat through it on the walk from the hotel to the office building where he ran the company that his father had.
Georgiana called him as he walked through the hotel lobby, briefcase in hand. He paused to answer.
“You forgot my undershirts and my toothbrush.”
“Shoulda packed yourself,” she retorted. “Good morning.”
He smirked. “Morning, Ana Banana.”
“Hey, I just wanted to let you know, I have classes all day, and then I’m going out with some girlfriends, so I won’t be able to meet you for dinner.”
“Okay. Do you know what time you’ll be back?”
“Uh . . . later? I don’t know. That’s kind of what happens when you go out - you should try it sometime.”
He smirked. “Very funny, AB. Hey - do you know where I can get some coffee around here? The stuff in the room was sub-par.”
“You work two blocks away. Do you seriously not know?”
“I tend not to venture outside of my office, honestly.”
Georgiana sighed loudly. “Again with the going out. Anyway - there is an excellent independent coffee house on the corner. My favorite barista is Lydia - she’s got gorgeous tattoos on both arms. We’re a lot alike.”
“Any gorgeous tattoos on your arms have quite escaped my notice, I’m afraid,” said Darcy.
“No, you dork - our stories,” she clarified. “Anyway, yes - go there, it’s Longbourn Coffee House. I’ve got to go; I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Okay - have a good day, AB. Love you.”
“You too!”
* * * | 62d3aa1f59924fde8eb627884a943966 | ['6b527ef7da754b8993faffbcb039a5fb'] | A rumbling in her stomach drove her forward, and she meandered through the market toward the food smells. Her uniform netted her several samples, and when she found something she really liked – she wasn't sure what it was, but it was hot and savory – she bought it with a smile and a tip, and ate it while continuing to browse the vendors.
She watched the locals make bread and carve wood, elaborately decorate pastries and throw pots. Someone was blowing glass, someone else was painting faces, someone else was drawing caricatures. She watched a candy maker, which made her think of Stinger, and she promptly moved on.
She was watching with some degree of fascination as one of the vendors wove a rug – she'd always loved textiles and if the quality on display at the market was anything to go by, the gentleman doing the demonstration was both skilled and passionate – when she heard a faint trumpeting.
She thought it odd, that there should be an elephant, or an elephant splice, on a planet like this one which appeared to be untouched by the universe at large. And then she remembered that she had an elephant splice in her crew.
Mr. Nesh was running toward her through the crowd, trumpeting again to get her attention. Captain Tsing gave the rug-maker a regretful look, and hurried forward to meet him.
“What is it, Mr. Nesh?”
“There's a problem with Ibis,” was all he could say before he turned around and ran back the way he came. Tsing followed him.
He led her to a dilapidated, vaguely house-shaped building not far from the end of the market. The door was closed, and Nesh started banging on it, and trumpeting again.
“Nesh, what is the problem?”
“Ibis is inside,” he said. “I'm afraid he's hurt.”
It occurred to the captain then that Ibis and Nesh were likely close – one a pilot, one a navigator, they likely relied heavily on each other to do their work. If Nesh was panicking, there might be something really wrong.
Tsing banged on the door. “This is Captain Diomika Tsing of the Aegis. We have an officer inside; please open your door.”
Nesh stepped back, a clear indication that he, at least, recognized her authority, and her ability to help. There was no answer from inside, however, so she tried again.
“This is Captain Diomika Tsing of the Aegis. We have an officer inside. You will open this door or I will break it down!”
A small crowd had formed by this point, mostly made up of Aegis crew. Tsing counted backwards from ten, and was on the point of giving orders to Nesh to storm the house when the door opened.
A woman, appearing entirely human, stood in the doorway. She appeared to still be dressed in her evening clothes – a black gown with a high neckline, evocative of Entitled fashion but failing miserably in execution. Her head was bloodied, and she was angry. It occurred to Tsing that this was a brothel, and she was looking at its madam.
“I have your officer,” she spat. “You can come arrest him; he attacked me.”
Tsing scowled and pushed past the woman. The inside of the house was dark, and she had to pause to allow her eyes to adjust. When they did, and she wandered further into the house, she found Ibis, his uniform dusty, laid flat in the middle of a sitting room, a hulking man standing over him with a bloodied fist.
“Nesh! I want backup!”
Nesh did not need to be told twice; neither did any of her crew, and the room was soon a little too full of Aegis officers, many of them from security, pointing their weapons at the hulk, who backed down.
Percadium and Nesh picked Ibis up and made attempts at reviving him while the captain spoke to the Madam.
“What is your name?”
“Madam DeNue; I'm the owner of this establishment.”
“And what happened – why was Mr. Ibis in your sitting room?”
“I don't know,” she replied, her voice all gravel. “I was dozing in my chair one moment, and the next thing I know I've got a black eye and a filthy set of splice fingers around my neck.”
“I saw Ibis not half an hour ago when he disembarked; he was completely sober and had his wits about him. What could've happened?”
“I'm sure I don't know,” she spat back at the captain. “Damn splices are always going feral – ought to check them better before you let them out.”
Tsing glared hard at DeNue. “I will thank you not to use that kind of hateful speech in my presence, Madam DeNue.”
“Captain Tsing?” It was Chatterjee. “I believe her name is Razo.” She gestured to the stairs.
Tsing nodded in understanding, and she turned back toward the madam. “You have a girl named Razo?”
“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “Not in this house.”
But Ibis had been roused, albeit temporarily. “She lies, Captain,” he said weakly. “Razo. Upstairs.” And he slipped back into unconsciousness.
Tsing flicked her eyes at one of her crew holding the hulk at gunpoint; it was enough instruction for him to shift the weapon toward the madam, who immediately began protesting.
“You cannot go upstairs! I don't authorize this! This is a violation of my privacy. . . !” but it was mostly lost as the second silent instruction of Tsing's was followed by Chatterjee, who drew her weapons and led the way upstairs.
Madam DeNue followed Tsing and Chatterjee upstairs, complaining about her rights the whole way. By the time the captain had opened three doors, she informed the madam that she was being placed under arrest for multiple health code violations and her business would be closed down. That was before Tsing opened the door to Razo's room. |
134ac8669c3b43339d8ca372e68c55ea | ['6b5347a4040a4a8685760af82c9e115f'] | "Relax, Bellamy. I'm going to take care of you." Clarke speaks softly before allowing her hands to slip into the damp curls adorning his head. She uses her fingertips to scratch his scalp and slowly she can feel the rest of his body relax and his breathing calm down. She tries to ignore the pleasure she feels from touching his hair, something she has always wanted to do.
After he seems to be completely relaxed, she removes her hands smiling at his audible whine at the loss of contact.
"I'm going to touch your shoulders now okay?" She doesn't wait before adding some of the oily lotion she got from Monty after asking him to find the most relaxing lotions possible. She warns Bellamy because she knows he likes to know everything that is going on before it happens.
He doesn't respond and she takes that as a good sign before digging her fingertips into the tenses flesh of his shoulders. He groans as she already begins to work out knots that are covering his back.
"Jesus Bell, relax." He's squirming uncomfortably beneath her and she slows her movements, instead of working out the knots, she just rubs his back gently. She scratches at random spots with her clipped nails, allowing him some time to relax before starting to work out more knots.
The most knotted area is his lower back and as she tries to work on that, he groans and moves around the entire time. But once she gets them all out, he is silent. She nearly thinks he is asleep before his body begins to shake slightly. She gets off of him quickly, turning him over to see if he was okay.
Instead he's laughing slightly, to her surprise and relief.
"What?" She asks, a small smile appearing at the sound of his wonderful laugh.
"You tricked me into coming in her so you could massage me." And she laughs at herself and how gone she is for this man. But as she is laughing with him, slowly his laughing fades and she notices tears forming in his eyes.
"I'm so sorry Clarke. I've been so angry and stressed and upset, and I shouldn't have shoved you, god you're the last person I want to hurt, I am so sorry." His eyes go back to her shoulder and she pulls the shirt up a little better so he can't she it. Bellamy sits up on the bed, putting his face in his hands as he cries softly.
"I'm a monster." He whimpers, and she falls beside him nuzzling herself into his side. Clarke pulls him back onto the bed, wrapping his arm around her as they lay.
She lets him cry as long as he needs to before the remains silent.
"It's okay Bellamy. I understand how you feel and I'm always here for you. I won't let you be alone in this." Clarke sits up to get a view of his face. She wipes away stray tears and stares deep into his brown eyes. God, she loved him.
She pushes back his curls from his forehead before planting a soft kiss there. He inhales deeply, and holds onto her hand as she pulls away. Without a second thought or even a chance to think it through, she plants a soft kiss on his lips. He holds her there carefully, as if not to harm her again.
They hold their lips together for seconds longer before Clarke pulls away, and she sees pure relief in Bellamy's eyes as he stares back up at her.
And that's all it takes before Clarke makes him relax in a different way, twice. And he returns the favor, three times.
**Author's Note:**
> i'm disgusting. let me know what you thought | 576e5f16b39e42cea121100c33810e32 | ['6b5347a4040a4a8685760af82c9e115f'] |
**Author's Note:**
> first small fic drabble
It's not the fact that Clarke notices even the slightest mood changes in Bellamy. It's not the fact that she's constantly keeping an eye on him and making sure it's okay. It's also not the fact that she's quite literally head over heels in love with the guy.
It's the fact that ten people in the past week have come to Clarke with broken noses, black eyes, and one even came in with a concussion due to Bellamy's anger lately.
It's also the fact that the night prior, Clarke had been awoken to a crying Octavia coming into her tent, raging about Bellamy behind clenched teeth. Clarke braided her hair and made her a new herbal tea out of something she got from Monty, calming her down.
_"He's just being different. He's distant and cold. I keep trying to get him to talk to me about it, to open up to me, but he keeps shutting down. I even mentioned getting you to come talk to him and that's whenever he gave me this look, god you should've seen it Clarke. It was a look of pure hatred and betrayel." Octavia speaks through her tears, not noticing how she is affecting Clarke with her words._
Clarke promised Octavia that she'd fix it, whatever it was and it would be okay. But that proved to be difficult when twice Bellamy ignored her and the second time he shoved Clarke back so hard she nearly lost her balance, had a tree not been there. He stared at her, wild eyes full of guilt, before turning away and leaving her to try and figure out what was happening to him.
They talked to each other about everything nearly, she could call him her best friend. She did love him, she knew that. But she wasn't about to do anything about it, not only because of the fear of rejection but for the sake of everyone in the camp. So with that Clarke avoided him throughout the entire day, deciding to take a new approach to this.
That night Clarke waits until she can hear everyone's soft breathing throughout the camp, aside from a few shared whispers, and even some giggles, which seemed to make her heart feel lighter. She looks around her slightly large tent, making sure everything she needed was ready. Smiling slightly, she begins to head to Bellamy's tent to find him.
Of course he isn't sleeping whenever she enters without alerting him. Instead he's just staring at nothing, his eyes so far away from the world in that moment that Clarke wants nothing than to enter whatever world he was in with him and drag him out. His eyes follow her as she comes to stand in front of him where he is seated on his bed.
"I need your help with something. Will you follow me?" She asks gently, trying to not demand him to do anything in case he takes it the wrong way and shoves her into his desk or something. He notices the wary way she's acting around him, and Clarke sees the pain and regret in his eyes but he says nothing as he gets up from his bed.
They walk silently back into her camp, a tension settled between the two of them. Clarke keeps trying to remember that he's going through a difficult time, that he'll be okay after this. So she ignores the heaviness of his silence and continues trying to remain positive about all of this.
She notices him slow just a little once they get in front of her tent, but she pretends not to notice and walks into her tent casually, keeping it open for him as he follows. Once he's inside, she shuts the makeshift door and ties it down so people will knock first if they have the need to interupt.
"Clarke what is all of this?" His voice is rough and raspy, and tired. It's sad as she notices just how worn down he looks as he stares tiredly back at her.
"Just do me a favor okay? You owe me for this." She shows a little bit of her shoulder, allowing him to see the large bruise that formed there after being pushed by him into that tree. His eyes linger, a pained expression forming his face. But he says nothing and just stares somewhere behind her.
"What do you want me to do?" He asks, looking back at the blanket she had set down on her bed along with a towel, some oil, and a few candles she had set up.
"Well first, I want you to relax and breathe." He lets out a deeo breath, seeming like it's the first breath he's taken in a while, which it might even be. "And then I want you to take off your shirt." His eyes widen with confusion at her and he opens his mouth to protest before she shows her shoulder once again. He eyes it for a moment before taking off his shirt in the way that guys do, by the collar.
Clarke doesn't even bother to hide it as she allows her eyes to trail down his toned stomach and chest, following the form of his v lines until they end above his pants. She ignores the heat in her body and meets his eyes which have just a hint of satisfaction in them. She doesn't protest or roll her eyes, she just lets him take that one.
"Lie down face down on my bed please." Her voice is soft, so soft she can barely hear herself over her heartbeat, but somehow he hears her and follows her instructions.
She's careful as she settles on his bottom, legs on either side of his waist. His breathing is a little labored and his entire body is tense. |
2dfbb1ae4a63422eafe1b01fbc667b2b | ['6b78ebb2b2e0480e88f349b2e5098ecf'] | Gwaine did as he was told without further comment. A feeling of foreboding was settling over him, and it was not allayed in the slightest when he climbed the stairs to the upper room with the requested blankets gathered in his arms. Merlin was lying still and silent on his bed, his face so pale that even his lips were drained of color. There was no movement beneath his eyelids to tell of sleep, and the rise and fall of his chest was barely perceptible.
Gaius was leaning over the bed, brushing the hair tenderly away from Merlin’s forehead, but when he glanced over and saw Gwaine standing there, he straightened up and said, “Ah. I see you escaped from the banquet.”
“You know me, Gaius,” he replied, his tone light, although he felt anything but. “Merlin calls – or falls – and I’m there. I’m just sorry I wasn’t in the right place to catch him this time. It’s usually stairs that get him.”
Gaius gave a faint huff of laughter, but quickly returned to the matter at hand. “You can set the blankets down on that chair, and then if you wouldn’t mind helping me spread them over Merlin? He needs all the warmth we can give him.”
Gwaine nodded and walked around the bed, to the opposite side from Gaius, and set the stack of blankets down, keeping his eyes on Merlin the entire time. “What’s wrong with him?” he asked warily as he absentmindedly took the top blanket off the pile and began to unfold and shake it out.
“I’m not sure, but he’s cold as ice,” Gaius replied, reaching over to take an edge of the blanket and helping to settle and tuck it around Merlin.
Now Gwaine was thoroughly confused. Even though it was well into autumn and there was certainly a nip in the air, it wasn’t anything like what would be needed to chill someone so severely. He set aside his questions for the moment, though, and simply concentrated on layering another blanket over Merlin.
After that blanket was done, Gaius looked towards the outer chamber and called out impatiently, “I need that hawthorn now, Lancelot.”
“I can’t find it,” came the answer, strained and full of frustration. It wasn’t like Lancelot to lose his composure. Gwaine wondered if there was something he wasn’t being told. Then again, Lancelot and Merlin had developed quite a strong friendship over the past year, so it made sense he would be worried. Gwaine wondered what it meant that he himself felt relatively calm. Maybe it was simply that Merlin always seemed to bounce back, no matter what happened to him. It was difficult to imagine him ever giving up or giving in, not to anyone or anything.
Gaius blew out a long and noisy breath. “Finish up with this, would you please, Gwaine? Then see if you can get a fire going in the hearth. I think there’s some wood in the basket.” He turned and left then, presumably to fetch the hawthorn himself, whatever that was needed for.
As soon as Gaius was gone, Gwaine reached out to lay the back of his hand against Merlin’s cheek. He hadn’t wanted to do that while Gaius was in the room. It might seem too much like morbid curiosity. But who was he trying to fool? It was exactly that.
One brief touch, and he pulled his hand away. Gaius hadn’t been exaggerating, but there was probably a better analogy for Merlin’s condition than ice. Ice was hard and unforgiving. Merlin’s cheek, although unnaturally cold, wasn’t frozen. It still yielded slightly to pressure. He was more like a corpse, newly dead, but deceased for long enough that the warmth of life had almost completely fled.
Gwaine went back to unfolding, spreading and tucking blankets with a vengeance. Living people needed warmth. The dead were beyond such things. Merlin was still here and alive and he was going to stay that way. Gwaine refused to consider any other outcome.
*****
Lancelot gladly moved away to allow Gaius to rifle through the shelves of medicines while he redirected his efforts to checking what was on the work tables, looking for anything that might be a finished remedy and possibly the one they needed. He was utterly frustrated at being unable to find something as basic as a vial of hawthorn. He thought he’d come to know where most everything was located in Gaius’s chambers through the many visits he’d made over the past year, more often than not to drag Merlin back from some misadventure or other he’d persuaded Lancelot to go on without Arthur’s knowledge.
Their purpose was usually to track down and eliminate some sort of magical threat to Camelot or its people, and as a result, there tended to be a good deal of hurried bandaging and liberal dosing with various remedies afterwards in order to get Merlin back on his feet with the prince hopefully none the wiser. Lancelot could explain any injuries away as training mishaps, but Merlin’s plausible excuses were somewhat limited to clumsiness and freak accident. A few times they’d resorted to claiming he was suffering from exhaustion, which actually wasn’t too difficult to believe considering the ever-growing responsibilities that were falling to him these days.
There would be no more of Merlin playing the hidden and selfless savior, though, if they didn’t manage to bring him out of the state he was in now. Lancelot couldn’t help but think this was unsettlingly similar to the Hunger Moon Fever that had struck last midwinter. Merlin had worked himself to the brink of collapse by lending a great deal of assistance to Gaius in caring for the ill in addition to his regular duties. He’d even made a concerted effort to use healing magic on the sicker patients, something that had apparently been elusive for him the past, but that hadn’t stopped him from trying. | 3242861e8950466b8b6d6047b8cba9cd | ['6b78ebb2b2e0480e88f349b2e5098ecf'] | Lancelot lifted him and carried him a few paces before lowering him to the ground, much more slowly and gently than he’d come down from the horse, to sit with his back against what was probably a tree. While Lancelot tended to the horses, Merlin listened to the sounds of branches rustling, horses stamping, and the creaking and jangling of tack. They were normal, everyday sounds and helped to reassure him that all might yet be well.
His mind started to drift aimlessly, but the edge of his attention was caught by an odd sense of warmth inside of him. He turned his focus inward, casting about in the dark, and found a faint, golden flicker. He thought it might be a sign of his magic returning to him, but it seemed distant, as if it were watching and waiting for something.
He wondered if his magic had only temporarily fled to protect itself from the Dorocha, gone back to the source from where it had come when he was born. Or maybe it had been with him even before that. There was a brief image in his mind of freshly plowed fields, a bonfire at night, and sparks rising up to mingle with the stars. Then darkness fell again, apart from that single flame. It seemed a bit brighter and steadier now. He tried to touch it but it was just beyond his reach. It was as if it were keeping a vigil, waiting to see if its vessel would remain in the world of the living and be able to welcome it home again.
He was heartened by finding he hadn’t been entirely bereft of his magic, and by the promise that it might return if his body was healed. With the encouragement that thought gave him, he searched a bit more to see if the gift of the Dragonlord was also still within him. At first there was nothing but silence. Then he sensed something rich and warm, like the depths of father’s eyes, but it spoke to him in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Kilgharrah’s.
_I never left you. You simply forgot how to listen._
Then the timbre of the voice deepened a bit and took on a sense of weight, of years, of strength and wisdom. He knew that this was now Kilgharrah himself speaking to him in his mind, as he had all those years ago from the cavern underneath the citadel.
_Do not forget, young warlock, that the fire in one breath of mine is more than a score of your torches. I have been doing what I can, but the Dorocha are too many for me, and I cannot destroy them completely. Nevertheless, I am near to you now. Do not hesitate to call on me if you have need._
He tried to answer back but found that although the Dragonlord’s power was definitely still a part of him, he didn’t currently have the strength to give it voice, even inside his own mind. He wondered if Kilgharrah even knew what had happened to him. He seemed to think it a foregone conclusion that Merlin would live to face the Dorocha again. Maybe he simply had that much faith.
He was brought back outside of himself by Lancelot slipping an arm beneath his knees. He also pulled one of Merlin’s arms around his neck, but before he lifted him off the ground, he paused to say, “It’s going to be dark soon.” There was worry in his voice. Understandable since this would all come to naught if the Dorocha attacked again.
"I know," Merlin replied, strangely calm. For some reason he felt that if they could get to the water, they would have nothing to fear.
“Can you see again?” Lancelot asked, a touch of startled hope in his voice.
"No, but they said to hurry," Merlin said distractedly, "so I figured it must be near dark." He felt oddly relaxed, quiescent, at peace. Lancelot knew what needed to be done, and he would do it. After a moment of waiting, though, he realized Lancelot hadn't acknowledged what he'd just said, nor was he moving, so he added, "Don't think about it, Lancelot. Just go."
“Honestly, Merlin, the things I do for you,” Lancelot replied with an exaggerated sigh, but his voice was full of fondness and amusement.
Then Merlin was being lifted up. He let out a long, quivering breath, letting the pain and sorrow and regrets drift away. None of it mattered any longer. There was no more need to struggle. He let himself be carried onward to his fate, back towards the path of his destiny.
*****
The End |
1d20846cb76b4dcb9e96c85c0f0814ba | ['6b8a83c6cf934e43a04424f0de38b37b'] | Just the same, I pulled into the parking space outside my apartment building relatively unscathed. The sky was darkening quickly, clouds thick with rain bunching together. As I retrieved my items from the front seat, a friendly voice asked, “Need a hand?”
I turned to politely refuse...until I saw the source of the voice. I nearly dropped my eggs. “F-Father Finn!”
His smile was wide and kind, ice-blue eyes sparkling despite the cloudy day. And he was casually dressed, which was new - black leather jacket, black polo, dark blue jeans and running shoes. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he grinned.
“Oh, no no, it’s fine, I’m just...heh...it’s quite a surprise, that’s all,” I chuckled like the nervous mess that I was. “Wh-what brings you around?”
“Just came from a visit with Miss Leona - she’s been ill for a while and hadn’t received visitors, so I took the liberty of bringing her lunch and keeping her company this afternoon. How about you? I imagined you’d be at work this time of day,” he wondered.
“I work at home,” I replied. “I’m a technical writer.”
“Oh, very nice,” he nodded. A warning rumble sounded above. “Let’s get you inside. I’ll carry your groceries.”
_Gulp._
Well, this was unexpected. But, surprising even myself, not entirely unwelcome.
“S-sure, Father Finn. Thank you.” I watched as he took my groceries while I opened the door.
“Please, lass,” he laughed. “Outside of church, it’s just Finn.”
We get upstairs to my place on the third floor and, as I flipped on light switches, I’m so thankful I took time to clean house this morning before running errands. It was sizeable, but not a huge place, which was perfect for me.
And Fath- I mean **Finn** , was here. Setting my groceries on the kitchen counter.
“Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, juice... water?”
“Coffee sounds fine,” he replied. “Black with a little sugar.”
“Coming up.” I prepared the coffee as he asked while he put my groceries away. He knew his way around a kitchen pretty well.
I handed him the coffee, poured myself a cup of grape juice, and we sat at my dining table in silence.
“Thanks again for the help, Finn. I admit it's quite startling to see you outside of the cathedral.”
That drew a humble smile from him. “You're not the first to tell me that. Actually, it's good that I ran into you today because I hadn't seen you in service for a couple of weeks now. Father Murphy said you were pretty faithful in attendance, so even he was concerned.”
I looked down at my hands as he placed a warm, firm hand on top of them. “Did something happen?”
_Oh, nothing's wrong, Father. Not at all - just that I keep having dreams about you tying me up and fucking me on the altar until I can't stand up while you choke me with rosary beads-_
“I'm-I’m, um...no, I'm fine,” I stammered as I all but leapt from my seat, taking my drink with me as if to add more. A thunderous boom shook the apartment, and the cup slipped from my shaky hands, spilling juice on the floor.
“Shit!” I run to grab paper towels, panicking all the while.
Finn came up to me, concern etched in his eyes. “Breathe, it's alright. Let me help you.” Taking the roll of towels from my hands, he stooped down and cleaned up the small mess, making sure to follow with wet paper towels to prevent stickiness. He was so calm and I, watching him from behind, was an absolute mess of a human being.
No matter how amazing his rear view was, I was absolutely certain I was going to hell.
Finn's voice calling my name brought me back to the present. “Let me get you to the couch. You look frightened.”
“No, I'll be f-fine. You should get home before this storm picks up.”
“Nonsense. You shouldn't be left alone. Whatever is happening, you can talk to me.” He was genuinely worried, and I felt guilty.
But I kept my mouth shut, knowing if I spilled the truth, things would get extremely awkward. And there was the duration of the storm to consider.
We sat there on the couch, his knee touching mine. “I want to help you. That's what I'm here for. If there's something happening that may be troubling you, I'm here to listen. I won't judge you. Anything I can do to help, remember?”
God, his voice with that accent was so comforting. My throat tickled, and clearing it didn't help it.
But the moment I opened my mouth to apologize, the dam burst.
“Remember I confessed to you about the dreams I've been having about a man at church?” He nodded. “Um, well... they've been getting worse. More intense, more graphic. And I thought if I stopped going for a short while, I could just purge these impure dreams and...my s-soul would be clear. But...no matter how I pray, what scriptures I read, what counsel I seek, I just...it won't stop. I can't stop them from coming.”
He listened intently. “I see,” he replied after a brief pause to process everything. “Might I ask...who this man is?”
Everything seized up. I couldn't. I fervently shook my head.
But something about his voice... _changed_. Maybe it was the storm resonating through the apartment. It was so strong, _compelling_ , even without raising or changing in tone. “You can tell me.” His eyes locked mine in place.
“You,” I gasped, then again in a whisper as I looked away. “It’s _you_...Father Finn.”
My eyes tightly shut, I waited. Waited for him to leave, to admonish me, to pity me, something. Not this. The silence was too much.
What I _got_ , however, I didn't expect. Could never have expected in a million years.
He said, almost quietly, “I had a feeling... and it's okay that you feel that way.”
I blinked. | 43f2640b38ac4bd2a0c3295743672f2b | ['6b8a83c6cf934e43a04424f0de38b37b'] | It sounded too good to be true. Which meant he had to be lying. And I said as much. “Bullshit.”
“Could be. But Kenny here can tell you that I speak the truth. Even more than that, I'm being fucking charitable.”
Kenny grimaced, but agreed begrudgingly. “He lied about you not being able to get your soul back, but he's not lying now. Out with it already, you piece of shit.”
Ignoring the defensive angel, he fixes his focus upon me. “So here's my bargain: I will restore your soul. Every single bit of it. But in return...you will swear your allegiance to _me_. You will welcome me in your bed. You will obey when I call. You will kneel before me.”
I was sickened by what he proposed, and I struggled. “You want me to be your whore,” I choked out.
“ _Vardat lilitu_. You'll be kept well. But for my use and mine alone. For as long as I determine.”
I could hear Kenny's voice in my head telling me not to do it, to stay strong. Every cell of my being screamed against it.
But every cell was aleo desperate. And tired. So tired of denying my fate.
No matter what I did.
No matter what I said.
No matter how far I ran.
I belonged to him.
_I had been his all along._
* * *
“You're awake.”
My vision began to clear as I came to, responding to the voice in the room.
Without facing them, I knew something was different.
There was an electricity in my chest. A warmth I had long taken for granted until I didn't have it anymore.
But with it...a weight came down. Harder than anything I'd ever experienced.
> _I couldn’t breathe._
>
> Time slowed down around me.
>
> My head pounded with the dreading thud of my heart.
>
> I collapsed to my knees, my dagger tumbling to the wet carpet in front of me. Numb. I was numb and trembling.
>
> **And there was blood on my hands.**
>
> _It was…_
>
> _**No.** _
>
> _Kenny's face looked up at me with pained eyes as the light faded from them. Blood flowed from his throat as he took my hand in his, gripping it tightly._
>
> _**I forgive you,** his gaze said. **I'd always forgive you.**_
_No._ Please don't...not _Kenny_.
But as the memory returned to me - in crystal clarity - I knew it was true.
“Didn’t think you had it in you, lass. With the gift he gave to you, no less,” the demon said, impressed. “And to think I'd spent so much time defiling you...but for a mere human, you’ve outdone even _me_. You managed to permanently damn yourself for eternity.”
He leaned towards me with crimson in his eyes. “You killed an angel in cold blood. There is no hope for heaven for you. You're _mine_. Completely.”
Finn's evil smile met my tearful face as a horrified scream ripped from my throat.
11. Falling Inside the Black (A Prelude)
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The fall from grace is a real bitch.
**I didn’t know you had it in you. To murder an angel, and with the weapon he gave you…**
**I’m so fucking turned on by you right now.**
**You were mine from the start. You’re mine until the end. When _I_ decide it is. Whether for a single night or an eternity, I will have it.**
**I will have you anywhere, everywhere, in every possible position I know.**
**I could kill you. And I will. I never said _when_.**
**For now though...I’ll remind you where you belong.**
* * *
> You're serious.
>
> _As a heart attack._
>
> But...what you're proposing…
>
> _I know._
>
> It's... it's insane. _You're_ insane.
>
> _Well...supernatural beings aren't usually known for mental stability._
>
> I'm being serious!
>
> _So am I._
>
> I can't let you do this.
>
> _You're not letting me do anything, beautiful. I'm doing this whether you like it or not._
>
> But-
>
> _Shhhh. It's what I want. I don't see another way around this. You're worth it to me. It's insane, but...you deserve every possible chance. So I'm doing this. **We're** doing this. _
* * *
I was numb.
I shouldn't have been.
I... I had my soul. I should feel something.
“I didn't lie to you, lass. I gave you your soul back. But killing an angel darkens it, corrupts it slowly. Think of it as Heaven's own scarlet letter. No chance of paradise, and every chance that you will spend the rest of your days hunted by calamity.
“To put it another way: in this life and the next, you belong to me.”
I played right into the demon’s hands. As I had from the start. I was his all along.
It was destined to end this way, Bálor had mused as he kissed his way between my thighs. “Regardless of whether I end your miserable human existence here and now or not, you're mine. Here and in Hell. Might as well enjoy it all.”
Bálor was right. I was stupid to believe this would end any other way.
I was his. I was _always_ his.
He devoured and lapped at my core, growling in uninhibited want and making me moan aloud. His thick, unnatural tongue slid in and out, fucking me deep.
I gripped at his hair and rocked into his ministrations, taking what he was giving for being his good girl.
My throat was raw from his claiming, and coated in his release. The sting of open, bleeding skin on my chest kept me in the moment. He had reopened his mark, reminding me of his claim.
Bálor took his victory spoils that night. Perhaps longer. I couldn't tell after a while, so blurred it all became. |
cc4563742af643eeb7c7ca167f16ec3a | ['6b91318bdc7c4cf9aafa0eafb5019298'] | Sakura’s skin is blistered where the acid caught her; he can feel the chakra swirling under her muscle, straining to heal but pushing into Obito, instead. Willful as always.
She is heavier, now. A neat knot of muscle and precision. But when his arm catches her, she is limp, defenseless. Trusting, he assumes, even though all that came before should defy that expectation.
No; he overestimates himself. The sweat on her brow and the raggedness of her breath tell him it is not trust, but exhaustion. The energy in her is simply not enough to keep her straight and tense, and that is why she relaxes in his arms.
He looks at her for an eternity. Sakura’s eyes, half-lidded, roll to meet his. There is a silence full of things he wishes he could say, but knows better than to try. _ I’m sorry, _ or, _ thank you _ , or, _ me too, I— _
Her eyes are bright, glassy, until she blinks. Sasuke wonders when the sight of him will bring anything other than tears; if it ever will.
He steadies her, but remains expressionless. This is not a good time to act on this. He wonders if he will live to do so, and decides giving her anything now would be a low blow. Not the lowest, considering everything he’s done, but still hard enough to leave a mark. And regenerating prowess notwithstanding, Sakura deserves better.
Sakura’s eyes pull away first. The rest of her does so moments later, when her mitotic regeneration works its way through her bones, her channels. She slides out of his arm with a blank expression, and her fingers touch at her healing skin. Her blunt nails scrape across the place where his hand had been, mindless of the torn skin.
_I’m_ _sorry,_ he thinks, but turns to Obito instead.
* * *
Between him and Naruto, holding them both upright, Sakura walks without difficulty. It might be the lightest she has ever felt: despite the tear tracks on her face, the smile on her face is brighter than the sun.
Sasuke leans on her without shame, and they keep walking.
5. thank you
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> post-chapter 699. heavily inspired by the Sparrowkeet Series' twelfth chapter, an A:TLA fic by **audreyii-fic** , though somehow not like it at all.
He feels right in her arms, if a bit too light; the war has made a ghost of him. Naruto is light, too, but he can stand up straight by himself. Nevertheless, Sakura drags them both into a medical tent, water in her eyes and something bright in her lungs.
She cries, and cries, and no one is bringing her tissues, why is no one bringing her some fucking tissues already? Sasuke sighs, a smile hidden in that sound, and presses her face into his shoulder. Adrenaline and exhaustion have finally made him go no-turning-back-crazy, she figures, because Sasuke would never, ever do this where other people could see. Or at all, maybe? Sakura doesn’t know.
Sasuke says:
“Thank you.”
She cries again, this time on his shirt. She falls asleep with her head on his shoulder and her legs sprawled over Naruto, and everything is right, at that moment.
* * *
Sasuke is, and has always been, a man of gestures. His body is too fast, his reflexes too honed, and both betray what his mouth refuses to say. Sakura notices this as she’s noticed everything else about him: easily and eagerly.
Ino says:
“Back at the Academy, I thought Sasuke was more than he was. He’s still hot, like, _damn_ , but if that’s all there is to it, should you even care about him? Konoha has always had a surplus of hot guys, and you can get a nine-out-of-ten easy. And he might even smile at you more than once a month. Can you believe? Ground-breaking, I know. I mean, sure, you say I don’t get it, but trust me, I _know_ guys. There’s only so much stuff you can excuse before you get your heart broken. Just make sure you’re not imagining another layer when there isn’t one to start with. Please? Just—make sure.”
Sakura sips the rest of her tea, and waves her off. Ino frowns, a degree of worry in every line between her brows, but doesn't complain when Sakura changes the subject.
* * *
Sasuke is an occasional hand at the small of her back when they are alone. Unlike Sakura, privacy is not enough of a reason for him to reach out so easily. She accepts this, like everything else he gives her.
Naruto says:
“You should probably be more selfish, Sakura-chan! I get where you’re coming from, I really do, but that’s really stingy on the Bastard’s part! It’s like … It’s like if you’re going to Ichiraku’s and you pay for a bowl of ramen, but, when it arrives, it’s just cold broth. You know? No eggs, or meat, or anything! And you’re, like, starving, so you don’t complain, because Teuchi-san would probably get mad and take a long time making your next order, you know how he gets whenever I make a suggestion, but honestly, what even is ramen without noodles!? I get that the broth is essential, but—”
Naruto trails off eventually, one hand settling on his stomach, and asks her if she wants to go out for ramen. Sakura laughs, secretly thankful for the self-inflicted distraction, and follows him through the streets.
* * *
To see Sasuke is enough, if she is being honest. Years of staring at a fading photograph hurt more than she cares to admit, and it feels good, having him in the flesh. Shouldn’t that alone be enough? Just to _see_ him there, sitting inches away from her bent knees and folded elbows?
Kakashi says: | 92059c3a0e034305a43e78f0c6a021bc | ['6b91318bdc7c4cf9aafa0eafb5019298'] | Sanada sets the bowl down on the counter distractedly, already gesticulating with his hands.
"It's not like I can't do it alone," he says, a brief tinge of irritation in his tone. "It'll be fine, Mitsuru—" and then he quiets down, like someone's sucked the air out of him. Mitsuru looks at him curiously; she knows of his tendency to call Aragaki by his first name, but they share history Mitsuru doesn't. Is Sanada used to calling everyone like that? The thought is foreign to her, an heiress who addresses the most important person in her life as Father.
"You agreed to following my plans," she says, overlooking his mistake. There is a contract with his name on it – more beneficial than prejudicial, just health and life insurance, which should be enough to dissuade him of thinking of Tartarus as a gym. It's not. She should have expected this. "I won't risk losing you," she adds, forgoing the final _too_.
Sanada must hear it anyway, because he nods reticently, after a beat. Mitsuru breathes in relief, a reward for his good behavior (sometimes it does him good, a reminder that she's human, even if just barely).
* * *
Without Aragaki, the dorm goes from home to a building. Mitsuru hadn't realized how important he was, but she does now. Very acutely, in fact – is this what they say regarding not appreciating what one has until it is gone?
Well. Mitsuru focuses on her studies, instead. Mid-terms are coming up and she channels her frustrations on paper and pen, scheduling Student Council meetings left and right, falling asleep on the lounge once or twice. She usually wakes up covered in something, those days, be it Sanada's jacket or a blanket; though her mood lightens somewhat, she doesn't know why.
"It's not good for you," Sanada says between bites of cereal, from the kitchen table. Mitsuru feels the back of her neck heat, but he doesn't turn to look at her, just keeps eating. She gets up from the couch, smoothing down her skirt and shirt, and then brushes her hair behind her shoulder.
"I've been busy, lately," she replies, instead of, _thank you for the jacket,_ or _thank you for your worries,_ or _why do you care so much?_ Sanada looks at her over his shoulder, then, watching her as she pads into the kitchen, searching for a glass of water.
"This isn't – fair. Why can you drown yourself in school stuff when you won't even let me enter Tartarus?" he asks, setting down his spoon, and Mitsuru has to wonder if the heating system has malfunctioned or if it's just Penthesilea, ready to strike. She breathes in, leans her hip against the table, and crosses her arms.
"I am in not risking my life," she replies, all thoughts of a glass of water rushing down the drain. "I am merely tending to my duties," and then, because she can't help it, "as should you. Mid-terms are near."
Sanada huffs very lightly under his breath, eyes downcast.
"We have our Personas for a reason," he says. "And we're not using them – isn't this just – selfish?"
"It's self-preservation," Mitsuru shoots back, even though she's not as sure of herself as she usually is. Her fingers grip at the folds of her shirt, and Sanada notices, bright eyes pressing her down like she's carbon. "Without Aragaki," she resumes, and Sanada's gaze hardens at the sound of the name, "it's just me backing you up from the ground floor. We are not risking your life just because you want to."
"Then," he begins, sounding hopeful despite the conversation's cool temperature, "what if we go in, together, just the bottom floors, just until Shinji comes back, or until someone else joins—"
"I'll think about it," she breathes, fingers loosening. Sanada gets up and sets the bowl near the sink, looking pleased with himself; Mitsuru texts her personal assistant, tells him to cancel all night events, and doesn't even feel half-guilty.
* * *
Tartarus has always been quiet; two people are not enough to fill it up with noise. Mitsuru doubts even two thousand people could make a difference. The tower sucks up any human activities, erasing them easily. It's eerie – especially because it amplifies the wet sounds the shadows make when they move, slithering towards them with open mouths.
She puts the motorcycle keys in her skirt's pocket, hears them clink, and then looks at the first stairway. Sanada, beside her, looks at it like a kid at Christmas, ready to dive inside a pile of presents. She breathes in, out, and then nods.
"Let's do this," he says, already climbing the stairs, two by two. Mitsuru follows quietly, her heels clicking on the floor.
"Don't forget," she reminds him, when Sanada is inches away from the jamb, "when I say it's time to retreat—"
"Yeah, I remember," he says, cutting her off with a smile, and then enters.
Mitsuru presses her lips together, feeling Penthesilea stir with excitement and anxiety. The cool wind blowing inside her picks up speed when she's inside Tartarus' second floor, listening to the faraway sounds of melting shadows. Sanada fidgets with his gloves, impatient as always, and Mitsuru's fingers tighten around the handle of her rapier.
When she says it's time to leave, they still have half an hour left, and Sanada's mouth quirks to the side like a grumpy fold, but he acquiesces.
* * *
Tragedy almost strikes, one night – Mitsuru slides her rapier up Sanada's ribs, twisting it in a artful demonstration of what a charmed swordswoman can do. Sanada manages to finish off the treacherous shadow, somehow hitting it with a desperate Zio, and then crumples to the floor, hands on his side. Mind unclouded, Mitsuru kneels beside him, feeling short of breath. Feeling full of guilt. |
b8537b0f41214719b1d9560a64448f32 | ['6bb8f51002134de094b82adfa731d53f'] | Just in Case
**Author's Note:**
> Written for the LINK challenge: genre Fluff, prompt Homework.
"We need your help," Danny says, looking a little wild-eyed, and Steve, who had opened the door with a grin and a ready retort, takes in the girl hoisted on Danny's waist with her face buried, sobbing, into his neck.
Steve swings the door open wide and ushers them in. "What happened?"
Danny turns to slip a pink backpack off his shoulder unto Steve's hand. He carries Grace into the living room, sets her on the couch, uttering reassurances.
"It fell down the stairs," Danny says, pulling him aside into the kitchen. Steve opens the bag to reveal a Hello Kitty laptop, dented and cracked. Danny scrubs his face with a sigh. "Grace's big school project was on it. It's due tomorrow. Can it be saved?"
Steve returns Danny's serious gaze. "I'll call Chin."
Twenty minutes later, Chin is hunkered down in the study to salvage what he can from the hard drive, but not before he tells them solemnly that they ought to start working on a backup plan.
The project, they gather from Grace in between sniffles and hiccups, is a picture book of her visiting over a dozen locations on the island compiled over the last year.
"It's okay, Monkey. We'll go out and get new pictures, alright?" Danny says, looking resolutely over her bowed head at Steve who beckons the rest of the team closer.
Within minutes, Kono has a list of all the major tourist attractions within 40 miles with directions, hours and admission fees loaded on Steve's cellphone.
"Let's roll," Danny says, tossing Steve the keys.
They speed from place to place with a hesitant Grace, joking with her like covering the entire island in a day is nothing.
Grace sits on Danny's shoulders next to the giraffe pen at the Honolulu Zoo. Steve carries Grace in his arms clear across Pearl Harbor to get the Arizona behind them for their picture. Danny buys her a lei at the International Market Place while Steve convinces a wandering hula dance troupe to pose with them.
By the time they get to the seventh on the list—the Iolani Palace—Grace is bounding out of the car, laughing and clutching Danny's hand, to find the perfect spot for them to stand while Steve runs after them with the camera.
At the next stop, they find that Kono had called ahead and Kamekona has their favorite flavors of shave ice ready next to a banner advertising his business. They've made startling good time with four more places to go and hours of daylight left when Danny's phone trills.
"Guess what, Monkey? Uncle Chin saved your project! We can go home." Danny beams at Grace who stares down at her shave ice, stricken. He gives Steve a knowing look and murmurs close to Grace, "But we should probably keep going, right? Just in case."
Grace bobs her head and grins. They pull her into a hug, laughing so loud they don't notice when the shutter goes off in Kamekona's hand. | 55abec8865b44d679d8b58e1f88f7d3c | ['6bb8f51002134de094b82adfa731d53f'] | Steve gives him a tentative smile as he addresses the phone. "Chin? Yeah, Danny and I won't be in tomorrow. We're taking the day off. Yeah. Together. Thanks, brah. We'll see you."
"What the hell was that?”
"Now we're dating."
Danny's mouth pops open and shut. Steve moves up to him, slides his arms around and pulls him close, silencing his retorts.
"Can you at least tell me where we're going?" Danny grumbles, his hands flailing at Steve’s back. "I would like to know if my life will be at risk tomorrow. That is, any more than it is every day I'm with you. Should I spend the night, I don’t know, updating my will? Checking the policy on my life insurance?”
"Trust me, Danno. I’ve got better things for you to do tonight."
\------
_The run back from the summit is faster, though no less treacherous. Danny gauges it's been an hour since he left Steve with a broken arm and bloody gashes and a dead body for companionship to boot._
_He scrambles to the ledge and sees that Steve's not just alive, the maniac's splinted his own arm. Thunder rumbles above, not helping alleviate his current state. He jokes with Steve as he climbs, trying to hide the panic in his voice._
_Steve is pulling himself up with one hand, dangling from the rope that’s scraping Danny’s palms. He hisses through the sting, but tightens his hold, pulling with every ounce of strength he has left. He’s not letting go._
\------
Steve's almost to the top. Danny grabs him by the elbow and drags him the rest of the way up.
"I got you, Steve, you lug." Danny says when they clear the precipice. "You're going to be okay. Thank god. You stupid stupid crazy man."
"Were you worried, Danny?" Steve pants, edging closer to Danny. He means it to be a joke, though it comes out sounding more like an apology.
"What? What kind of question is that? Don't make me unsave you." Danny threatens, except he clings on Steve's arm like it’s the only thing keeping him on steady ground. He went through hell and back, had Steve the slightest idea what Danny’s been through, to get him help, to get back here, to make sure he’ll be alright.
“Danny.” Steve says, squeezing Danny's fingers where they're wrapped around his bicep like a vise. He waits till Danny meets his eyes. “You saved me long ago. It's my turn.”
There’s a brief second when Danny stares at his Steve’s smile without understanding. Then something cracks in his chest, it’s alive and free and bubbling up his throat.
The army medic has Steve strapped to a harness in no time.
“Thanks brother,” he says as they’re reeling him up, taking him to safety.
It’s too loud and there's too little time and there are no words for what Danny feels in this moment when he gets it. And so Danny says everything with his hands, not caring who sees. He draws his heart, wide and open, for him.
"Danny!" Steve is yelling from above the canopy.
Danny can barely hear him over the roar of the helicopter blades. He squints in the whirling air and yells back, "What!"
Steve’s grinning down at him. His good hand sticks out against the darkening sky, the middle and ring fingers folded down. Danny knows just enough sign language to know what it means. Steve’s safe, Steve’s alive. Steve loves him back.
It's as clear a lifeline as Danny needs. He grabs hold of it and finds himself grinning like a madman.
Only then, when Steve disappears into the helicopter and flies away, does he look around. Danny spins slowly, finally taking in the surroundings—the ridiculous petroglyphs, the rocky ridge, the towering trees, and everywhere around him, the verdant majestic mountains of Ko’olau that he scaled in record time to rescue the man he loved. Except, turns out, Steve wasn’t the only one who fell. He drops his hands to his knees and starts laughing. Here he is, on top of the world, the ground is solid beneath his feet and Steve wasn’t kidding, the view is fucking beautiful up here. |
efb17e8d3e584cce9646b7b139e678b4 | ['6bbc8cb218bd42a986ec9681def44972'] | “I know.” Richie says but he doesn’t think it’ll ever go away, the need to check that Eddie’s okay, that he’s real and there and breathing.
In their last hotel he had used the bathroom first and found a spider in the bathtub. It was tiny and definitely terrestrial, and Richie had never been skittish about them before, but for a moment he had considered calling down to reception and asking to transfer rooms. Then he had thought about Eddie walking in and seeing it, so he had trapped it under a cup and shoved it out the window himself, swearing under his breath the whole time.
“I’m serious.” Eddie says, looking up at him, his eyes dark and intent. “I don’t want you to treat me like I’m fragile, okay? I’ll tell you what I can handle.”
Richie nods but then says, “Okay, how about this; you protect me, and I’ll protect you. Is that fair?”
Eddie thinks about this for a moment and then nods. “I can do that. But please, _please_ don’t try and protect me from sex again, alright?”
Richie laughs and then kisses him, first deeply on the lips and then, brushing the hair out of the way, his forehead. “You got yourself a deal Eddie Spaghetti.”
“Don’t call me that when we’re naked, please.” Eddie groans but lets Richie pull him in tight.
A little later when Richie’s about to go to pass out Eddie prods him in the shoulder and asks, “If step eleven was going all the way, what’s twelve?”
“Roleplay. I’m still set on sexy nurse.” Richie says sleepily but he’s lying. Step twelve is Eddie moving into his apartment, getting a dog and growing old with him and being here, like this, forever and ever; for the rest of their lives.
“Ugh.” Eddie says. “Maybe I do want to take it slow after all.”
“We can do that.” Richie says happily. “We can do anything you want Eds. Just say the word and I’m your man.”
It’s the truth, after all. | a8c90034c3534d2db201c74250c68894 | ['6bbc8cb218bd42a986ec9681def44972'] | “Gross Mike, I know this isn’t on topic but a Bloody Mary?” He says instead, in the worst attempt at a conversation change that Eddie has ever seen in his life. “Is everyone having cocktails? You know this is a dive bar, right?”
Mike frowns. “What are you talking about Rich? This is just water.”
Even as he says it, Ben suddenly spits out his beer onto the table and it splatters, red and _too thick _and then Eddie is retching up blood that still smells like coconut and rum.
“We n-need to go!” Bill says, looking up at a bar that is suddenly empty, and Richie is pulling up Eddie by the jacket and staring at him saying, _fuck, fuck fuck_
“That’s last call, folks!” The bartender is saying as they’re stumbling out of the bar, ringing his bell and Eddie suddenly sees the deep cuts in his wrists, the blood trickling into his sleeves.
Outside Ben throws up against the wall while Beverly rubs his back.
“Th- th-that was st-Stan.” Bill is stuttering, hands in his hair, staring back at the doorway. “I swear it was him. _I swear_.”
Richie passes Eddie a napkin and Eddie wonders how he had the presence of mind to take it.
“You have blood. On your mouth.” Richie says and he looks upsettingly like he’s on the edge of tears.
“Ugh, gross, gross, _gross_.” Eddie moans, wiping his mouth and then for good measure, his tongue, shuddering, still feeling the blood trickling down his throat, hot and warm. “When we get out of here, I’m taking a fucking bath in antiseptic, I’m taking every shot I can get, I hate this place _so much_.”
“Yeah.” Richie says, looking weirdly comforted. “I can tell you one thing, this bar is _not _gonna like my Yelp review.”
“We need to end this.” Mike says and he sounds angry now, in a way that’s sort of scary even to Eddie. “Tonight. It needs to end.”
* * *
They need more information, so they drive to Beverly’s old apartment by the canal. The rain is still coming down hard, it must be about 4AM now and Eddie is cold and covered in soot and he has fucking blood in his mouth, but Mike was right, this needs this to be over. Eddie needs this to be over.
Before they go in the six of them stand for a moment, looking up at it. It’s a wreck, an abandoned shell of apartments just like Beverly described but Eddie remembers coming here as a kid, mopping up the dripping red mess of her bathroom.
“You know I’ve never actually been in here.” Richie notes, as if reading Eddie’s mind. “You assholes made me stay outside last time.”
“Actually m-maybe someone sh-should stay outside.” Bill suggests. “A- as a lookout.”
“_No.”_ Ben and Richie snap at nearly the same time.
“No more splitting up.” Beverly agrees, looking at Eddie. “We’re not leaving anyone behind this time.”
Inside the property is dark and dusty but there’s still a staircase, even if it only goes up to Beverly’s floor and no further and Beverly guides them by memory to her old door, Ben close behind her. Richie and Eddie are behind with Mike and Bill taking up their rear, watching their backs like the good leader he always was. Eddie suspects he’s being kept in the middle intentionally, as if the others are taking extra care over him. It should bother him, in the same way that it did when his mom and Myra fussed over him, but this feels different somehow.
“This makes me miss your dumb head-torch.” Richie says, cursing when he nearly falls through a rotten hole in the floor.
“Head torches aren’t dumb, asshole. They keep your hands free.” Eddie says primly. “Maybe if you watch where you’re going-“
“Hey, I’m falling in these holes so you don’t have to!” Richie snaps back and then Beverly shushes them.
“This is it. This is my door.” She says and her shoulders are trembling just a little bit, staring at it.
Ben looks down and then takes her hand.
“Remember what we talked about.” He whispers to her. “Whatever’s in there. I’m not going anywhere.”
Beverly lets out a shaky breath and Eddie feels like he should look away. He’s suddenly overcome by a feeling of _want_, so deep it makes him almost breathless.
They have to break down the door in the end, but nothing comes rushing out of the dark at them except a smell so horrible that Eddie isn’t the only one gagging.
“What the fuck is that?” He says, hands clamped over his mouth, eyes watering. The smell is rank and thick with a horrible sweetness underlying it, like rotten fruit.
They find the source of it in the bedroom, where the body of Mrs Kersh is decomposing into a mouldy mattress. There are still photos on the wall and a small moth-eaten teddy bear lies on the floor, surrounded by what look suspiciously like cat bones.
“So, she was real after all.” Beverly says in a hushed tone. “I wonder how long she’s been dead?”
“Not just her.” Mike says and he’s looking at a photo on the wall. He takes it down carefully and passes it around. The man in the photo is wearing a suit, tucking his hand into his lapel, no greasepaint or costume to be seen. There’s something off about the smile though, the smug dark holes for eyes and Eddie shivers in recognition, passing it on quickly to Bill.
“So there r-really was a person behind the c-clown. I guess he d-does need a ph-physical form after all.”
“So he survived through Eddie?” Ben asks and then glances over at him, softening his tone. “But…Eddie was dead. We all knew that.”
Richie opens his mouth to argue but Eddie interrupts him before he gets going. |
05f63e10d92840e39148b215addcbbb1 | ['6c1f56a788ca4f90b3e7c6e1945a312c'] | Truthfully, Red liked having her on his shoulders. He especially liked the firm grip that he still had on her thighs, but he knew that Lizzie would screech until he let her down, so he slowly crouched low enough for her to safely hop off.
Liz turned to face him and exclaimed brightly, "That was fun!" Her cheeks were just a bit flushed. Red instantly found himself wishing he could memorize that look on her face. She was sunshine and rainbows and absolute perfection.
The moment was interrupted by a shrill, ringing sound. Both were briefly bewildered. "Oh! My phone is ringing!" Lizzie yelped. She stuck her hand into her purse, fervently digging around for the offensive object. "Ah ha! Victory!" She brought the screen up to her face, fighting to focus on the caller ID.
"Shit! Red! IT'S COOPER!"
5. chapter five
"Drop out" suggested an active, selective, graceful process of detachment from involuntary or unconscious commitments. "Drop Out" meant self-reliance, a discovery of one's singularity, a commitment to mobility, choice, and change.
\--Timothy Leary
Red snatched the phone from Liz's hand, holding his finger to his lips, indicating that she should remain quiet and let him do the talking.
"Harold! Wonderful to hear from you. How's the wife? Will you wish her a happy birthday, for me? I know it was last week, but I do hope she'll forgive me for not sending a card. I've been so busy chasing down all of these bad guys with agent Keen."
Cooper ignored him. "Reddington, put Keen on."
"I would, Harold, but she's currently in one of those dreadful portable latrines. Like a gentleman, I'm holding her purse so she wouldn't have to carry it inside." Red gave Liz a thumbs up sign and shouted, "Lizzie! Harold is on the phone!"
Liz had collapsed into a fit of giggles on the ground at Red's feet. Gasping for breath, she yelled loudly enough for Cooper to hear, "That corndog must have disagreed with me. Tell him I'll be in here awhile!" Guffawing, she wrapped her arms around Red's legs and buried her face into the back of his knees, inadvertently causing them to buckle. Red fell over backwards, on top of Liz. She clamped her palm over her mouth in a vain attempt to squelch her howling laughter.
Red managed to hold onto the phone as he rolled over on his side, oblivious to whatever pain he should have felt. Liz took the opportunity to crawl on top of him, rolling him onto his back again and hovering as she straddled his hips and pressed his shoulders into the grass.
"I told her to order one of the vegetarian options, but you know how agent Keen loathes to follow my recommendations. I'm surprised that she even let me hold her purse."
"Did you get any intel from your guy? Have you even found him yet?" Cooper was more than a little annoyed.
Red's reply came out cloying, "Yes Harold, and agent Keen will tell you all about it when we're back in DC."
Liz was amazed that Red could steady his voice and "talk straight" so well. Or did he only sound steady to her? Enough of that! She leaned forward and latched onto his neck with her mouth, employing suction that was sure to leave a mark for several days.
He raised his voice again, "Lizzie, are you sure you're alright in there?"
"Yes! Leave me alone, Red!" she howled back.
"I guess she just can't help playing with fire..." Red was beginning to struggle, losing his focus on the conversation. He tried but failed to shoot her a menacing glare.
Liz began slowly inching one hand down Red's chest until she reached his navel, and pressed her thumb into it, causing his bleary eyes to momentarily roll back as he sharply inhaled.
"We'll probably stay the night and travel back tomorrow when she's well again." Red used his free hand to slap her ass, and hard. She moaned and sank her teeth into his shoulder.
FINALLY Red hung up the phone and tossed it aside. He grabbed her hips, pulled her down tightly, and didn't let go when she reflexively rocked against him.
"Jesus, Raymond!" Liz hissed, shocked by his hardness and the sensations that seemed to radiate between their bodies and through their clothes, as if they weren't wearing any at all. She couldn't will herself to stop.
"Oooo, say that again." He implored, through gritted teeth.
"Raymond.." she gasped, shuddering against his chest, just before she suddenly went boneless and collapsed on top of him.
"Lizzie, did you just..?"
She nodded vigorously into his neck. "How did you..?" She trailed, completely stunned. "I mean, I'm surprised that you can still.."
"Been awhile, sweetheart?" Red asked, thoroughly pleased with himself. "And just so you know, it takes more than a little LSD to ah.. keep me down. We should try to get to that hill."
"Are you sure? You don't need me to..." She didn't want to make things difficult or uncomfortable for him. Shouldn't he expect some reciprocation?
"Oh, I'm okay, for now. God, Lizzie, you're on fire."
When Liz looked up, she saw more than a few pairs of eyes settled on them, but she was tripping too hard to discern how many. She had forgotten that they weren't alone.
"Well Red, if you're good, then I am too. Let's go."
"Oh, so I'm Red again, huh?" He pretended to be hurt. They clambered to their feet.
Liz slid one hand into his back pocket, squeezed, and said, "If you want me to call you Raymond again, you know exactly what to do."
Indeed, he did.
They managed to walk to the hill more quickly than their last little excursion. They didn't speak much along the way, as they were both still thinking about what had just happened. The word "MORE" remained perched in the forefront of their minds. | 75efd3fe0df24825b94cc353362260b9 | ['6c1f56a788ca4f90b3e7c6e1945a312c'] | This time, Red's exasperated sigh was genuine. Just the same, he chose to comply with Denny's wishes.
He pulled out his wallet and removed a small, worn out photograph. It was taken on the day they moved Hudson into his new home. Lizzie was in the middle of brushing him when Red called her name from outside the stall. When she turned to face him, Lizzie's expression was nothing short of ethereal. His first thought was that if he could, he'd paint her just like that. Snapping a picture was the next best thing.
The colors were faded and corners were turned down from being handled frequently. He looks at it daily, and many times a day when they're apart.
Red slid the photo across the table.
Denny's only response was a strangled gasp.
7. Chapter 7
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Red and Denny attempt to read eachother's behavior, and several puzzle pieces appear.
Chapter 7
It took Denny just a little too long to find his voice. "Raymond, she's stunning!"
"I couldn't agree more." Red cocked a half-smile.
"Quite young."
Red adopted his best Captain Obvious tone to say, "You think?"
Denny was still clutching the photograph, staring at it intently.
"Her birthday is next week, actually," Red added, hoping to keep Denny from asking her age. This was getting awkward.
Denny gasped again, bringing the picture closer to his face.
"Would you like to see what I got her?" Red asked, reaching into his pocket.
Denny shook his head, eyes still locked on Lizzie.
Red was flummoxed. What's he doing? Looking for Waldo? Was this Denny's way of getting back at him for hitting on Shirley? Red canted his head, studying Denny's reaction.
The silence became deafening. The tension palpable. Red was silent, debating how long he should let it go on. He surreptitiously looked down at his Cartier watch and started counting.
After five minutes, he'd had enough. He gently tried to get Denny's attention. "Denny?"
No response.
Red tried again, increasing his volume. "Denny?"
Nothing. Was he was having a stroke?
Red reached across the table and gave Denny's forearm a gentle squeeze. "Denny? Are you okay?"
Slowly, Denny raised his eyes to meet Red's. And finally he spoke. "You said her birthday is next week?"
Yes. Last century! Red only nodded.
"She looks like.." Denny took a huge breath and let it out slowly. He was still holding the photo.
"Like what? WHO does she look like?"
"It's. She.. No. It's just a coincidence."
"Who, Denny?"
"Nevermind. Raymond, I should go. I've got a big trial tomorrow. Excuse me. Waiter! Check, please!"
"I already slipped the server my card. You weren't going to let me pay, were you?" Red chose to answer his own question. "No. So I took care of it."
Denny eyed him, cautiously. "Thank you, Ray. You didn't have to do that."
"No, I didn't. I don't see your point."
They both stood and pushed in their chairs. Red donned his slate-colored fedora. When Denny did an about-face, heading in the direction of the entrance, Red caught his elbow.
"Drinks on the patio, remember?"
"Sorry, Ray. Big trial tomorrow. Another time." He shook his arm, trying to free himself of Red's grasp.
But he's lying. Red was certain of it. Red tightened his grip and shook his head. "Patio."
He let go and made his way in the opposite direction without looking back, confident that Denny would follow. On his way out the back door, he stopped at the bar and ordered more drinks for them both.
When they were seated outside, Red decided to try again, but from a different angle.
"If you don't fully trust me, Denny, I understand. I've been out of your life for a long time. To say that we still need to catch up is an understatement. Just the same, whether or not you believe it, I am trustworthy. I'm also well-connected. They call me The Concierge of Crime for a reason. If there's anything in the world that can be done to help, I'll do it. Talk to me. I opened up to you, and you know that wasn't easy for me. Denny, you're my flamingo."
He paused, giving Denny a moment to think it over, before he pressed on.
"Who does Lizzie coincidentally look like?"
Denny downed his drink before answering, "My daughter."
"Elise?"
Denny finally looked at Red. "Anna."
Red rapidly blinked three times in succession, but he waited for Denny to elaborate.
When it became clear that he wouldn't, Red pressed further, "You have another daughter, and she looks like Lizzie? This morning, you said that you had 'just the one'". Red winced at his own words. Was it unfair to call him out like that?
Denny nodded slowly. "Her birthday is next week, too."
Red leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, briefly chewing on his cheek. It was a delicate situation, but for now, he just had to keep asking the right questions. The next one was especially tough.
"Where is Anna?"
Denny's eyes again lifted to meet Red's, but this time they were rheumy with long-unshed tears.
"I don't know, Raymond. She may have died. That's the worst part."
"Tell me about her mother."
"It was the '80s. We were briefly docked in Norfolk, at the time. She and I weren't even dating. It was a drunken fling. I've had thousands, you know? Denny Crane. I should have seen it coming."
Red nodded. "Perhaps." |
bdaf02f5a4144ba3a0d9cd229e286447 | ['6c21274bc98c45c99217ee1078d8ef18'] | Dwalin looked up. Here and there the buckskin was slashed by the wolfish claws and there were long shreds of cloth hanging off his shoulder.
The black pony was nowhere to be seen. Dwalin thought he might have run back to his previous owner. He spat and resigned himself to covering the rest of the way by foot. In the morning when he was dozing off by the fire side by side with Thorin who had fallen asleep with his head on Dwalin’s shoulder, he almost jumped up when something sniffed loudly right into his ear. The malicious black creature was standing nearby as though it was him who had overpowered the whole wolf pack yesterday.
They reached the village without further incidents. As Dwalin had suspected it turned out that the one-eyed fellow wasn’t Thrain, nor even a dwarf – just a crippled old man with a hump. Local people considered him to be a soothsayer. He stared at them with his dull muddy eye, then raised his hand and pointed a bunchy finger at Thorin.
“You are looking for the wrong thing. In the wrong place. Gold awaits you at home.”
Thorin was scowling during the whole way back to the inn in the hobbit village where Dwalin had left his mare.
The inn keeper put a jug of beer along with a plate full of meat on the table and winked at Dwalin:
“So, I guess you’ve got your debt?”
When he returned to his place behind the bar Thorin filled his mug and snorted.
“Couldn’t come up with something better?”
“Next time I’ll be telling the one about the bride on the run.”
Thorin glared at him and then burst out laughing. Soon they both were guffawing and pounding on the table so that the plates were jumping, the worried inn keeper casting them a sidelong glance from behind the counter.
When they returned to the Blue Mountains, it turned out that Dís had just given birth to a child. Thorin was holding a wee boy in his hands, caressing his fair curls with his breath caught in his throat and whispering:
“My gold…” | 670f47988085471e92322c663618ec52 | ['6c21274bc98c45c99217ee1078d8ef18'] |
Yule
**Author's Note:**
> Hope, this little piece makes you smile (or laugh) a bit. As usual great thanks to Saetha who made this text readable ;)
>
> I made also little collage (NSFW!) for this - http://i.imgur.com/927IBWB.jpg
Thorin hummed contently as he looked at the result of their day’s work: a pair of bronze strap hinges in form of intricately curved branches with leaves and a matching knocker. He put the rest of the instruments where they belonged, shooting one last glance at the furnace to make sure the fire was doused properly, walked out of the forge and secured the door.
Truth be told, they’d had a good deal of luck this time – the local blacksmith, an oldster by human standards, let them work in his forge and workshop in exchange for a third of the earnings and handed over a great part of the jobs to them. To say nothing about holidays, when they turned out to be the only ones still working. And they had been fortunate to find suitable lodging: the landlord with whom Thorin had stayed last year did not raise the rent, so they had quarters large enough and, best of all, with a hearth to cook something simple for dinner. It was good, considering that they were leaving for work before dawn and coming back late at night when the pub was closed already. The house they were staying in was situated on the edge of the little bourg, opposite to where the forge was, but the town was indeed small and they had no complaints.
The room had only one bed, but it was wide enough for two. And Thorin could think of at least two reasons for sharing the sleeping place: it was warmer that way and easier to kick the other in case of too loud snoring. Though, to be honest, there was one more reason… The corners of his mouth turned up in a small smile as it often happened when he was thinking of Dwalin.
Usually they went home together but that day Dwalin had some business around so he had left as soon as they’d finished, having left Thorin to clean up by himself. Thorin chuckled as he remembered Dwalin having walked out of the door, running straight into the little human girl who he had saved about a month ago from the hooves of a runaway horse.
_“Happy holidays!” The girl smiled sheepishly and offered him two strings of strange-looking beads, putting them on his hand._
“This is for you. Thank you…”
She turned away and broke into a run along the trodden path in the newly fallen snow.
“Happy holidays to you too, marnith*,” Dwalin beamed at her and put the beads away in his pocket.
Thorin smiled. The girl, wrapped up in her thick woolen shawl on top of her vest, with her rosy chubby cheeks looked indeed like a ripe cranberry which cooks generously put into festive pies or made part of garlands decorating the windows along with the pine branches during those last days.
Local folk had started to prepare for Yule’s celebration a good deal beforehand and now, on solstice eve, the anticipation of the holiday was felt everywhere around town. People decorated their houses and put on their best clothes. On the doors there were wreaths made of winterberry tied up with red and white ribbons, and pine trees in the backyards were glittering with beads of golden foil, colorful bows and shining bells. On the pavement, covered with snow, there were squares of warm light coming from windows, and the street was full with the rich aroma of roasted meat and fresh bakery.
The merchant rows on the central square were dark and quiet, but Thorin remembered well the loud clatter of voices in the morning and the crowd circling between the stalls with various dainties, sweets, nice woolen knittings and high piles of Yule logs – an indispensable element of the holiday in every home. Children had been laughing and asking joyfully for toys and candies and adults wished each other happiness and luck and wealth…
Thorin couldn’t say why this atmosphere of joy and merrymaking all around town was making him drown in some sort of odd melancholy. What did he care about a human holiday? Maybe the reason was that he couldn’t even remember when they had celebrated their own holidays. First, when they’d had a hard time grieving for their losses, there had been more important things to think about, and later, after settling in the Blue Mountains, Durin’s Day usually saw him in one human village or another – they had to make supplies for winter and he had to look for any job he could find.
In the narrow alley he was passing by, two kids were playing in the backyard of a small house: a boy was fastening short twigs as hands to his snowman and a girl was jumping under the Yule-tree trying to reach the candy hanging on a string. The door opened with a loud crack, letting out a puff of steam and the rich flavour of a spicy meal; a woman stepped out, wiping her hands on the apron, and called the children in.
Yes, it was a human holiday, so what? There was nothing wrong with buying some pastry, maybe spiced cakes with sugar icing and have a quiet dinner near the fire with a mug of mulled wine… Having made the decision, Thorin quickened his pace. |
48f5f75371464a7da01d27a4792c586a | ['6c34e747cb304b28a87e01b7ecd42914'] |
Day 1: The Way of the Waltz (Music/Dance)
Genji left the meeting room, his mind swimming from all of the information he had to process. Numbers and charts floated by in his vision, and he could hear the buzzing of indistinct yet concerned voices repeating things about keeping quiet and illegal activities and close calls and--"Hey, Genji!" He shook his head to clear his thoughts and turned to the source of the voice. Lúcio waved his hand and motioned for him to come over. Genji obliged and followed him. "That was a lot to take in, huh?" Lúcio grinned as Genji sighed. "Tell me about it," he replied. "I don't even remember half of what Jack said." "Well hey, don't worry about it," Lúcio reassured him. "Lena, a few others, and I were talkin' about having a little mini-dance party to get rid of some of the tension from all this stress about staying concealed and undercover, since we're illegal and all that." A childish smile crept onto Genji's face under his visor. "Will you be taking requests?" he asked. "You know it!" Lúcio answered cheerfully. "Great! I will come help you set up!" Genji responded.
After some time and an argument about whether or not they needed a "responsible adult" to keep watch, the party (supervised by Mei-Ling Zhou) was ready to start. Lúcio was behind his DJ stand, preparing for requests from any of the guests: Lena, Hana, Genji, Orisa, or Efi. "Just make sure they're appropriate; we have slightly younger ears here!" he reminded them. Efi crossed her arms and huffed in a pretend-annoyed way. Orisa glanced at Efi and, after a second or two, pointed to herself with an inquisitive look. Lúcio nodded, and she gave him a thumbs-up, to which he chuckled at. "Alright, let's get this party started!" he exclaimed excitedly, but just before he put on the first song, a voice called out, "I hope I am not intruding at an inconvenient time." Everyone turned towards the door and saw Zenyatta hovering in the doorframe. "Master!" Genji said, surprised at his sudden appearance. "What are you doing here? Did you want to join us?" "On the contrary, I was wondering if I could ask you to come with me for a while," Zenyatta replied. "Umm, sure, I suppose," Genji answered, confusion clear in his voice. He turned back to Lúcio as he was leaving and called out, "You can start without me; I'll be fine!" As he closed the door, he heard the first song come on and felt the bass thrumming in his chest. Glancing back at his master, he quickly jogged to catch up with him.
"So what did you call me for?" Genji inquired as they continued to stroll down hallways of the base. "I had heard that you and a few other members were having a 'dance party', so I decided that I wanted to teach you a dance," Zenyatta explained. Genji turned to Zenyatta, a skeptical look on his face hidden behind his mask. "You? Teach _me_ how to dance?" he asked, unconvinced. "You doubt your teacher?" Zenyatta retorted innocently. "Of course not, master," Genji assured him. "I am merely curious as to how it will turn out." Zenyatta let out a small chuckle and muttered, "As am I." "What's that supposed to mean?" Genji asked worriedly, but Zenyatta didn't elaborate on it for the rest of the walk. Wanting to know _something_ about what was going to happen, Genji asked, "Where are we going, anyway?" Zenyatta vaguely replied, "A quiet place to practice."
They finally stopped at a large, isolated facility close to the edge of the watchpoint. From the outside, judging by the cracks and moss on the wall, Genji noted that this building must have not been used in a long time. Noticing Genji's examinations of the place, Zenyatta stated, "Looks can be deceiving." To prove his point, he opened the door and allowed Genji a minute to gaze around the room. It was surprisingly large, with a tall ceiling and a lot of space between the four walls. There seemed to be no sign of disrepair on the inside; the floors were a startling white, the lights were all working, and the walls looked as if they were brand-new. There was also a small table with miscellaneous building items such as paint brushes, hammers, and screwdrivers, among other things. Zenyatta explained, "Torbjörn found this building while he was looking for a place for Bastion to stay. He asked Reinhardt if he would help him with rebuilding it, but I happened to overhear and volunteered to help as well. Though Torbjörn looked a bit skeptical, Reinhardt said that it could be used as a chance to show that human and omnic can work together. Since then, Reinhardt, Torbjörn, Bastion and I have all been working on things such as fixing the lights, repainting the walls, and sweeping the floors to restore this room to its former glory." "That would explain where you have been for the past few days," Genji replied, still marveling at the wonderful state of the room. "Yes, well, I apologize for not telling you about it sooner," Zenyatta said guiltily, looking down in shame. "Y-you don't have to be upset, master!" Genji quickly assured him. Trying to switch the topic, he asked, "Weren't you going to teach me about a dance?" Zenyatta perked up as he remembered his reason for bringing Genji to this room and replied, "Why yes, I was."
Excited about what was in store, Genji stood still, waiting for his teacher's instructions. Zenyatta floated in front of him and began his lesson. "Today you will learn a dance called a 'waltz'." "'Waltz'?" Genji repeated. "I have never heard of a 'waltz'." "It is an old, traditional dance made by humans that was performed in a 'ballroom'," Zenyatta lectured. "'Ballroom'? Wait...this is one of those slow dances!" Genji blurted out his realization. Zenyatta nodded his head as Genji groaned in exasperation. "Patience, Genji. Perhaps it is more difficult than you think," Zenyatta suggested. Genji scoffed and replied confidently, "I doubt that." "Then let us begin," Zenyatta said. "First, you must learn the 'box step', an important component in many ballroom dances. Put your left foot here." He indicated to a spot on the floor. Genji rolled his eyes behind his visor and followed his instructions. "Good. Next, make your right foot level with your left foot with some space between," Zenyatta continued. Genji stretched his legs far enough to almost do a split. Zenyatta laughed and chided playfully, "Not _that_ much space!" Genji sighed and moved his right foot to a reasonable spot. "Now bring your left foot to your right foot." Genji did so. "Now, you must move your right foot backwards," Zenyatta instructed. Genji leaned back on his right foot, but stumbled and almost lost his balance. Zenyatta giggled as Genji growled quietly and asked, "What's next?" Regaining his composure, Zenyatta followed up with, "Next, you bring your left foot to the left, where you started." Genji did as Zenyatta said. "Finally, bring your right foot to your left foot." As Genji brought his feet together, Zenyatta proclaimed, "Well done; you have completed your first box step." "That was incredibly simple," Genji complained. "Yes, but now you must keep your hands in the waltz position, and be able to do the box step with a rhythm," Zenyatta replied. "And what is this 'waltz position'?" asked Genji. Zenyatta grabbed his hands and explained how it would work. "First, your right hand will go on my shoulder blade, while my right hand is on your shoulder "--Genji felt the strange presence of his master's hand on top of his arm--"and our left hands will be held together," Zenyatta finished. "Now, you will complete the steps I taught you in time with my counting," he continued.
"One." Genji moved his left foot forwards. "Two". He brought his right foot to the side. "Three". He brought his feet together. "One." He stepped back with his right foot but stumbled again. "Two," Zenyatta said with a few giggles. Genji moved his left foot and leaned a bit too much to the side, almost bringing them both to the ground. He immediately righted himself, embarrassed at his trouble with an easy move. Zenyatta continued to chuckle as he said, "Three," and Genji brought his feet together once again. This routine lasted for a while, and Genji began tripping more and more over his own feet, while Zenyatta's giggles turned into peals of laughter at his pupil's overconfidence. Feeling his systems start to heat up, he asked, "What's so funny?" Zenyatta replied, "I merely find it amusing that a nimble ninja is having some trouble with a ballroom dance." Genji protested, "Why don't _you_ have to do it? You just continue to float!" "Mmm, perhaps when you learn to hover, you might not have to learn this dance," Zenyatta replied with an air of smugness, deliberately not answering his student's question. If Zenyatta had a mouth, Genji swore it would have a huge grin right now. "Alright, that's it!" Genji smirked under his visor. He leaned into Zenyatta, pushing them both to the ground. "Maybe you should use this floor that you've worked so hard on cleaning," he suggested, giggling impishly. In between chuckles, Zenyatta replied, "Maybe I will." He pulled Genji into a hug, then broke into laughter again as he felt Genji nuzzle against his neck. Suddenly, a voice rang out and said, "I take it that we've come at a bad time."
Genji bolted upright onto his knees and whirled around to see Ana leaning against the doorway, a wide smirk on her face. Behind her was Reinhardt, trying to keep a blank expression, though his smiling eyes betrayed his stoic look. Genji quickly stood up and helped Zenyatta to his floating position and asked, "H-how long have you two been there?" "Long enough to know that you two need a demonstration," Reinhardt replied as he ducked through the doorframe, carrying an old radio. Ana followed behind him, the smile still not gone from her face. Reinhardt gently pushed aside some of the tools and placed the radio on the table. He pushed the "Start" button, and the room was filled with sounds of old instruments like violins and basses and pianos. Reinhardt bowed and extended his hand to Ana. "May I have this dance?" he asked, looking up with a cheeky grin. Ana placed a hand to her heart and replied, "Of course." They took up the waltzing position and began to dance around the room. Genji and Zenyatta stepped back and stayed near the wall as they watched the couple move, their steps in time with the music, and their eyes only on each other. Genji stared at the two, the beauty of the dance finally dawning on him as he imagined Zenyatta and himself performing it. Zenyatta leaned close to him and said in a low voice, "Perhaps we should leave them to it." Genji nodded, and they silently crept out of the building and closed the door.
As they started walking back to the main part of the base, the sun began to set over on the horizon. Zenyatta asked, "How did you feel your lesson went today?" Genji looked at him and repsonded, "Terribly." They both chuckled as Genji continued, "But I would not mind learning it again." "I am glad to hear that," Zenyatta said. A silence filled the air for a moment before Zenyatta expressed, "I believe that the party might be over now. I apologize for us taking so long." "I don't mind," Genji reassured him. He held Zenyatta's hand in his and said, "I think my private dance lesson was much more entertaining." Zenyatta glanced down at their clasped hands and rested his head on Genji's shoulder as they slowly made their way back to the residential part of the base. Once there, they went to the living room and sat on an empty couch. Seeing all of the guests and more members, Genji deduced that Zenyatta was right: the party had ended. Lúcio hopped onto the cushion next to Genji and asked, "Hey, you two were gone for a while. What happened?" "Oh, just a dance session gone long," Genji replied nonchalantly. "A dance session?" Lúcio repeated dubiously. "Yes," Zenyatta affirmed, nodding his head. "Alright then. Must've been fun," Lúcio said. "It was," Genji said. "Master Zenyatta taught me the--" but when he turned to look at Lúcio, he was already gone. "It is alright Genji," Zenyatta said. "Not all of us can be the 'life of the party'." He pointed to his left, where Lúcio was gesturing wildly while talking with some other members. "I'm alright with that, if it means I get to spend some more time with you," Genji replied. He wrapped his arm around Zenyatta's waist, leaned into his shoulder, and let the chattering of his teammates fade into the background as he gradually fell asleep next to his master.
**Author's Note:**
> Whew, 2000 words! Considering my goal was to have at least 500, I think I can say that was a success! As my first fanfic on Ao3, I'm open for criticism, and I can't wait for the next day's post! | 9cdb666b008b49aca1a4da0857bd41f1 | ['6c34e747cb304b28a87e01b7ecd42914'] |
Day 2: A Secret Shimada Name (Nicknames/Pet Names)
**Author's Note:**
> First off, I apologize for not keeping up with the stories/days on time, but I promise I will eventually get them all done! Second off, this is mainly just a personal goal, but I thought I'd let you know that I'm gonna try and make each work in this series at least 1000 words. Also, I did quite a bit of research for this story, and I just hope I get the facts straight and do it justice. Okay you can read the fic now I'm sorry.
After such a grueling mission, the Orca was a beautiful sight for sore eyes....and legs, and arms, and everything else. Six of Overwatch's members--Hana, Lúcio, Orisa, Genji, Hanzo, and Zenyatta--had been sent to help protect the researchers at the Ilios ruins from a sudden Talon attack. "They were most likely looking to capture a hostage for information and/or ransom," Zenyatta had suggested on their way back to the rendezvous point. Everyone agreed with his theory; Zenyatta tended to be right when it came to the enemies' motivations...and they were just too tired to think of another explanation at the moment. Whatever it was, Talon must have really wanted it; it had been one of the tougher battles the organization had fought recently. Despite this, the group had seen no trace of the infamous Talon agents Reaper, Widowmaker, or Sombra. This meant they had no lead on where the main part of Talon was residing or what they were planning, but it also meant that they didn't have to go on a wild goose chase trying to follow what they thought was an agent. Bodies weak but spirits strong, the team trudged onto the ship, strapped on their seat belts, and gave a collective sigh of relief as they headed home, knowing that this break was not going to last.
Once at the base, the members entered single-file into the meeting room to get their mission summary from Winston and Soldier 76(but everyone except Orisa and Efi called him Jack). Hana, Lúcio, and Zenyatta stood the closest to the holo-board, with Orisa sitting down in the back, and the Shimada brothers standing near the wall. "Alright, soldiers," Jack began, "time for your mission summaries. Orisa, you held the team together well using your shield, but you missed some easy chances to group the henchmen together with your gravity ability." "I will send my performance analysis to Efi for more details," Orisa replied, her eyes becoming static as she transferred her information from the battle to Efi's computer.(For safety reasons, she only has direct communications with Efi's work computer while she is in the watchpoint or another Overwatch-safe space; it would be too easy for Talon or anyone else to use it as a way to get private information, should she be taken hostage.) "Hanzo, you took down many enemies, but you strayed away from your teammates, risking a split if you had been badly injured," Jack continued. Hanzo merely nodded and grunted in affirmation, then continued to wait patiently for everyone else's reports so he could leave. "Genji, your deflections were a bit off in timing, but you stuck near your supports when they were being targeted, so all-in-all, good job." Genji scoffed and responded, “It was nothing!", remembering the gratitude he had felt radiating off of Zenyatta when the fight was over. "Lúcio, your maneuver near the edge of the cliff was extremely risky, but you managed to push a good chunk of them off the edge, so well done." Lúcio's beaming smile could be felt all throughout the room. "Hana, your statistics are relatively good, but you called in more MEKAs then you normally do. Make sure to be more careful about damaging those suits," Jack warned. "Okay, sure," Hana said nonchalantly, scrolling through her phone. "I'm being serious Hana; those things are expensive," Jack said worriedly. "It's true; the average cost we spend for them has increased by thirteen percent," Winston added. "It's fine, I'll be more careful," she replied, still not looking up from her phone. Jack walked up to her, forcefully pushed away her phone, and growled, "It _won't_ be fine when the Korean military decides to pull you out to make another movie for extra money to fund your MEKAs. And how long would the shooting take? Eight, ten, twelve weeks? And what about when you have to fight for your country against that giant omnic? Who knows when that could happen? Focus more on the battlefield, not your fame and fans, 'D.va'." Embarrassed at his outburst, Hana shamefully looked away and answered, "Y-yes sir." Sighing, Jack straightened up and looked back at the holo-board. "Finally, Zenyatta. Your damage and healing output were remarkably higher than your average. Great work." "Good job, Zenny!" Lúcio complimented as he patted Zenyatta on the back. Genji chuckled quietly and muttered, "More like _Zennyo Ryūō_." Glancing over at his brother's bulging eyes, he realized that Hanzo had heard him.
Frozen in place, Genji watched, horrified, as Hanzo smirked and barely held back a laugh. He leaned forward slightly and covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes never leaving Genji's emotionless visor. He imagined Genji's abashed face behind his mask and had to redouble his efforts to contain his laughter. Suddenly, Jack voice cut through the room. "Somethin' funny over there, Mr Shimadas?" he asked, his icy tone drawing everyone's attention to the two of them. With Genji still being too stunned to speak, Hanzo quickly recovered with, "It is nothing, Commander; merely an inside joke within the family." "Alright, well, save your joking around until after the summary," Jack reminded them. Finally finding his voice, Genji joined with Hanzo in replying, "Yes, sir." With Jack's voice fading into the background again, Genji looked back at Hanzo and saw that he still wore a smug grin on his face. Glaring, he pulled his fingers across where his mouth would be to indicate that he should keep quiet about it. Hanzo repeated his "zipped lips" motion and turned back towards Morrison. Satisfied for the moment, Genji tuned back into the conversation in time to hear Jack say, "Good job soldiers; just remember to work on what I told you about. You're dismissed." Starting with Orisa, the members slowly filed out of the meeting room and started to go about the rest of their day. While leaving, Genji heard Zenyatta call his name. "Yes, master?" he asked, turning around to face him. "Are you alright? You seemed upset when Commander Morrison brought attention to you and your brother," Zenyatta asked with concern. Seeing Hanzo linger in the corner of his eye, he calmly replied, "It was nothing, master; like Hanzo said, it was a familial joke." "I understand. Shall we begin our routine?" Zenyatta suggested. Genji smiled behind his visor and said, "Yes, let's."
Genji and Zenyatta's daily routine consisted of five main activities: gardening, rebuilding, chores, training, and meditation. First on their list was gardening; they helped Bastion tend to his ever-growing farm of plants. Genji counted how many of each plant there was, while Zenyatta classified it and took inventory. Though today, Genji was more distracted than usual and had to recount some of the crops; at one point, he was so absorbed in thought, he stood completely still in the middle of the field. Bastion became worried and shook him a little too violently to see if he was okay. Landing in the dirt, Genji finally came back from his thinking; he stood up, dusted off his plating, and reassured the omnic that he was fine, just a little "shaken". (It took Bastion a minute, but he recognized the joke and gave a series of beeps and whirrs that mimicked a chortle.) Next was rebuilding; ever since Zenyatta showed him the old room he was helping to rebuild with Bastion, Reinhardt, and Torbjörn, Genji had insisted on assisting them as well.(If that wasn't enough, he had also reminded them that he was sort of both omnic _and_ human, so they had to let him help at that point.) Since the inside was almost completely fixed up, they decided to work on the outside; clearing away moss, scraping off old paint, and reinstalling broken parts of the wall were all included in this day's work. Once again, Genji grew distant as he absent-mindedly pulled off tangles of vines and moss from the walls; Zenyatta had to call his name three times before he snapped back to the present. "Are you sure you are alright?" he asked, a note of distress in his synthesized voice. "I assure you, I am fine master," Genji repeated. "Just a little...distracted is all. It is nothing." Zenyatta knew he couldn't force Genji to open up to him, so he let the topic go. Meanwhile, Genji knew he couldn't keep this from his teacher, or else he might crack from the guilt of it; he was glad to separate from Zenyatta when the third activity came up: chores. Today, Genji had to wash and fold the laundry; it didn't seem like much, until he realized just how many members wore clothes. He didn't complain too much, though; it kept him away from Zenyatta and away from the tension he felt building between them. Genji found it ironic that he, a person who rarely wore clothes(unless for special occasions or for undercover missions), had to fold laundry. The thought made him chuckle for a second, before his thoughts began to drift again. Simultaneously, in the kitchen, Zenyatta was helping to prepare ingredients for dinner. He also found irony in the fact that he, an omnic who didn't need to eat, was assisting in creating food for consumption. However, he didn't mind; he thought of it as a way to understand different food cultures, which were an important part of human culture as a whole. When everyone was finished with whatever chore or action they had planned, they all joined together in the mess hall to eat the food made by whoever was the chef that day. Genji tended to eat away from everyone, seeing how his damaged digestion system wasn't as good as processing whole foods(The hardest thing he could eat were al dente noodles; any candy had to be sucked on and whittled down, and he had to make sure to eat slowly.); he smiled at his plate when he realized that Zenyatta had carefully made his food more pastelike, something he normally had to do himself. Each bite had the consistency of oatmeal, but the vivid flavor of whatever Zenyatta had made.
Next up was training: a strange activity to do after dinner, but it worked for them. Zenyatta was in one part of the floor, practicing his throws and when and where to keep his Harmony and Discord orbs. Nearby, Genji was working on his aim with his two shuriken patterns: direct and fan. Unfortunately for him, Hanzo also used this time to practice his archery, and Genji was sure that he purposefully chose the area near him to taunt him about his secret. Luckily, Genji had a few tricks up his nonexistent sleeves. "How goes your practice, brother?" Hanzo asked, a strange note of cheer in his tone. "Much better than usual, brother," Genji replied in the same fake-cheery voice. "You seem to practice very close to your....teacher," Hanzo taunted in an obvious, loud voice to make sure Zenyatta could "overhear". "It makes it easier to recognize each other's strengths and weaknesses," Genji calmly replied. "Though I don't see much of a reason for you to pay attention to McCree's aim," he hastily added with a devilish grin. He held back a giggle as he saw Hanzo's face turn a light shade of pink as Jesse glanced over, hearing his name. "Beg your pardon?" he asked, confused. Ignoring him, Hanzo responded, "Jesse and I frequently go on missions together--" "Oh?" Genji interrupts, his smile widening under his visor. Hanzo glared knives at him as he continued, "--yes, and it is imperative that we learn each other's strategies to better our input to the team. Though your...master--" he added, taking his turn to smile, "--seems to quite enjoy spending time with you outside of lessons." "The same could be said for you and your cowboy," Genji retorted. He smiled triumphantly as he heard Jesse mutter, " _Your_ cowboy?" Realizing that any further escalation would most likely result in a fight, Zenyatta rested his hand on Genji's shoulder and suggested, "Genji, we should leave; I believe now is a good time to begin our meditation session." "'Meditation session'?" Hanzo repeated, a smirk on his already pompous face. Genji harrumphed and turned to follow his master. Hearing Hanzo laugh behind him, he waited and pulled the last straw: "I can't wait to see Jesse in that _okami_ suit of yours." Getting a final glimpse of Hanzo's terrified face and McCree's slow expression of realization, Genji dashed away to meet Zenyatta in his room.
"Do you wish to tell me what that was about?" Zenyatta asked as Genji walked into his room and closed the door. "...He started it," Genji lamely used as an excuse. "Yes, I believe it started with me, your 'teacher'," Zenyatta recalled. "Do you care to explain?" "I..." Genji stuttered. "Genji, if this is what has been distracting you all day and it includes me, please enlighten me on what it is. Am I being a bad teacher?" Zenyatta theorized with worry. "No, no, it's not that, it's just--" Genji stumbled over his words, then took a deep breath. He knew he was going to have to do this eventually; it was time to come clean. "Zenyatta, I had--have, a personal nickname for you," Genji started. "A...nickname?" Zenyatta repeated in surprise; was that all this was about? "Yes. it was--is...erm... _Zennyo Ryūō_ ," Genji finally confessed. It took Zenyatta a minute to process the words, then used his inner translation system to ask, "'Goodness-like dragon king'?" "It is a myth about a dragon who lived in a cave on Mount _Murō_ ," Genji quickly explained. "As wielders of the dragons, we were taught about our ancestors and distant cousins. Anyway, the story goes that _Zennyo_ originally lived in a pond, as most dragons do, until a palace lady drowned there. He then fled to a pond in Mount _Kasuga_ , until a body was thrown into that pond. He finally left and stayed in the caves of Mount _Murō_. Years later, a priest went into the caves to see him, but he told the priest to travel to a certain spot. When the priest arrived, _Zennyo_ rose from the ground, donning a robe and crown, then vanished. A shrine was built in that very spot; I remember traveling to it," Genji reminisced fondly. "It was...my favorite legend," he added shyly.
Zenyatta hovered silent, understanding the story piece-by-piece. Finally, he said, "To nickname me after a favorite dragon king...that is very kind of you, Genji." Genji felt his inner fans kick on from his master's admiration. "The story seems to mostly fit as well," he continued. "The palace lady in the pond...why, I could relate that to my brother, Mondatta." Genji froze in his tracks. "M-Master?" he asked, slightly disturbed. But Zenyatta paid him no mind as he kept going. "I certainly did not 'flee', but I distanced myself from the Shambali quite a bit," Zenyatta connected. "And the corpse thrown in the pond...it reminds me of the accusation from a town I visited. An omnic wanted to join me on my travels and learn more about the Iris, but his boss, fearing that the omnic would turn on him if he gained this higher level of sentience, killed him. He then blamed me for trying to start another uprising, and I had to flee the town." "Master..." Genji repeated in shock; he had never heard this story before. "And finally, Mount _Murō_. That would be when I was returning to Nepal, and the priest...was you," Zenyatta turned to Genji as he finished his sentence. "And the shrine built is our relationship," he continued, "with many people visiting and contributing to make it blossom." Genji removed his visor as he felt tears well up in his eyes; his master always had a way with words. "Zenyatta..." he murmured. He slowly leaned forward, then scooped Zenyatta into a hug. Feeling his teacher's reassuring hands on his back, he held more tightly and said in a thick voice, "I...I never knew that--" "I was planning on telling you the story at a good time," Zenyatta explained. "I merely took the opportunity." Genji nodded, then buried his face into Zenyatta's shoulder. They stayed like that for a while, two pillars supporting each other. When they finally pulled away, Zenyatta asked, "Does this mean I could call you a name like _Ryūjin_?" " _The_ 'Dragon God'?" Genji asked. He laughed and replied, "Hanzo wouldn't be happy with that." Zenyatta chuckled and responded, "Hanzo wouldn't need to know," "Then I suppose it wouldn't be too bad, _Zennyo_ ," Genji answered, softly kissing Zenyatta's faceplate as he felt the vibrations of his synthetic laugh travel through his lips.
**Author's Note:**
> Fun fact: I was originally going to use a myth about dragons eating sparrows as a sort of backstory element for Genji, but after some digging, it turned out to be more of a Chinese legend than a Japanese one, so I decided to change it to be safe. |
a059a7c205ce49a793a7fc8314bf2b81 | ['6c8e6e606ff04a898989c33e157b3927'] | While tending to one of the new arrivals, James felt a scar that ran about half the length of the dog's spine. Another abuse victim. He pressed his fingers to the back of the dog's neck to check for any internal damage.
But the world around him went dark—
His blurry vision revealed the cold stone where his bloody knees were resting. Or were they bloody? He couldn’t tell. He was kneeling in a pool of blood. His own? Or another’s?
Another’s.
He was chained, no way of breaking free, no way to escape. He could feel them digging into his skin. Blood stained feathers littered the ground. Accusations, claims, questions being screamed at him. All he could hear was the ringing in his ears. Could feel the cold sweat that covered him. Taste the blood rising from his lungs.
He could only stare at the floor. His eyes following the stream of blood, his vision finding someone familiar to him. A friend. Brother.
James couldn’t understand what he saw. He shouldn’t be here. Why was he laying there beside James? Ripped apart, dead eyes staring past him. They used him against James. They knew how much James cared for him. It was James’ fault. He let him die.
He should have given them what they wanted. How could he allow them to take his life? James stared in horror at the dead figure lying next to him. He heard screams, could feel the strain they had on his abused vocal chords, but he couldn’t stop.
—and when he was brought back into the light, he found himself very alone. Cold and shaking. He could hardly breathe. He wanted to leave his own mind, find solace somewhere very distant. But he could still hear screams.
They weren’t his own this time.
James ran towards the source of the commotion, outside of the shelter, to find Steve lying unconscious on the ground. A woman was kneeling down beside him. Her voice had been the one screaming. She gently repositioned Steve’s fragile form so that he was lying on his back, an improvement from the curled up position he had been in. Now that James could see his face, he saw that Steve was drifting in and out of consciousness. The woman was calling for emergency assistance.
James stood completely still. It was his fault. He let Steve get hurt.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> My mind kept saying, "my buddy, my guy, how about you stop including all of those clichés," while my heart kept saying, "another one, another one..."
> Basically, I apologize if my writing ever seems too self-indulgent, or if it always does, I at least hope that you like it anyway.
>
> Also, I included a quote from one of my new favorite shows in this chapter, so if you noticed, let me know!!
> In the next chapter is when Steve will finally meet Bucky!! (Bit of a spoiler, I know, but I have to hold your interest somehow.) So, if the ending of this chapter was unsatisfying to you; hopefully, you'll stick around for the next update! But regardless, thank you so much for reading and feel free to leave me any feedback you have. | 0ee3580588454ea0b0b737ff1411d468 | ['6c8e6e606ff04a898989c33e157b3927'] | “We finally have a couple days off on a beautiful planet with _other people_ and you’re just going to go back to the huts?” Lance sounded as if Keith had deeply wounded him. Keith gave him a disinterested shrug. “You mean to tell me that you joined a space exploration program and you’re not going to explore? Nope, nuh uh, not on my watch.”
Suddenly, Keith was being dragged by the hand in a different direction by a very excited Lance. He couldn’t really hear what Lance was saying over the sound of his own heartbeat, but he thinks it has something to do with some “super cool cave type of thing” that he discovered.
“Lance, wait! It looks like it’s about to rain.”
“No, it’s not!”
Ten minutes later they were standing beneath the overhang of the “super cool cave type of thing,” located on the side of a small mountain, and they were both soaking wet. Luckily, they were both wearing their paladin suits, but the pelting rain outside still found its way into every crack and crevice. They were both slightly out of breath when they reached the cave, but Lance was still beaming. His laugh echoed against the walls. Running out into the open air, he spun in circles, helmet left on the ground beside Keith, and let the water fall onto his face. What was only about ten minutes of watching Lance dance in the rain, illuminated by the three moons and distant lightning, felt like hours.
Keith was shivering and cold, but he’d never felt so warm. Lance looked happier than he had ever seen him.
When Lance returned to the safety of their makeshift shelter, he was panting and his hair was flattened against his head and sticking to his forehead.
“Oh, I’ve missed rain so much,” Lance laughed. Keith wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to the mess of a boy in front of him, but he lost the opportunity when he started shaking from a myriad of sneezes.
When he was finally able to open his eyes again, Lance was staring at him with a sympathetic smile. He hoped it was dark enough that Lance couldn’t see the heat forming beneath his cheeks.
“You alright?” Keith mumbled a response, which was enough for Lance to continue speaking. “So, what do you think of it? It’s kind of dark now, but I still think it’s pretty cool. Found it the other day when we were searching for other Galra soldiers.”
After a considerable silence, Keith, who was trying to cease his shivering, realized Lance was patiently waiting for him to reply.
“Oh, um- yeah. I-it’s pretty…um, cool.”
That seemed to suck all the joy from Lance’s being. “That’s it? You’re killing me, mullet. Won’t lie, I was hoping for a little more excitement than that. I mean, you were the one who found the cave Blue was in, so when I saw this, it made me think of you. It kind of reminded me of that cave. Well, minus the markings and stuff.”
_This made him think of me? He was thinking of me?_
“I didn’t mean it like that. I do love it, a lot. It’s really…cool and it does look like Blue’s cave without the markings,” Keith was struggling to find enough words to let Lance know that he did appreciate the gesture.
Lance just chuckled at his flustered state. “Oh, so now you want to spare my feelings?” Keith wasn’t sure what he meant by that. He was unable to ask him though because Lance’s eyes lit up and suddenly, Keith was being dragged again.
“I haven’t even shown you the best part!”
A bit further down into the cave, there was a small opening in the ceiling where moonlight shined brightly through, illuminating the area and allowing some of the native plant life to flourish there. The rain had stopped, but water still coated the ground and plant life. The air had that refreshing post-rain scent.
They were standing still, but Lance still had a hold of Keith’s hand. Lance didn’t seem to notice, but Keith felt like he could collapse at any moment. There was a comfortable silence as they both observed the beautiful environment around them. Keith couldn’t keep himself from sneaking several quick glances of Lance, though. He had this small, content smile on his face. The light shining through the ceiling brightened his eyes and illuminated his cheek bones. His shoulders rose and fell softly with his breathing. _He is so beautiful._
Then, those bright eyes met his. Keith gasped. He had been caught.
Keith felt vulnerable. His secret had been exposed. He was humiliated.
But, Lance was still smiling softly.
_I wonder if he can hear my heartbeat. It’s so loud. How could he not?_
Lance turned to face Keith, their hands still clasped together. Water droplets still ran down their faces, but the warmth emanating from Lance had stopped Keith’s shivering. He licked his lips out of habit drawing Lance’s eyes to them. Both paladins stopped breathing for a moment.
When their lips touched, the world around them seemed to stop. Keith didn’t even realize he was on his tippy toes until Lance pulled away and tried to mumble an apology. He couldn’t get the words out before Keith was shaking his head ‘no’ and pulling Lance back in for another one. And another one. And on until it was dark and both were freezing cold and dizzy from the emotions coursing through them.
The next day, Keith didn’t leave the hut. And not because of the romantic reasons he had imagined before falling asleep, but because his allergies turned out to be the onset of a nasty cold. He had a fever, his chest hurt, he was really just a mess surrounded by mucus and tissues.
_Fucking great. I’m sure the disgusting mess that is myself right now will surely make Lance fall head over heels._ |
5de4f4b28ccd4316aa374b42cf81cedd | ['6c8f1f6d32744b98beecdefb8683af1b'] | This picture was of a conversation Phichit and Yuuri had. Phichit had texted, wanting to know what the fuck just happened, and Yuuri had said "i'm going to be eating, crying, and or masturbating for the next few days please don't talk to me". Phichit had then asked why he did it if he wasn't confident in his decision. Yuuri replied with "idk lol".
**koi.bi.to.** should i be concerned
**nicoleheesun** why is this in my recommended
**christophe-gc** yuuri,,, if youre going to masturbate make sure you stay hydrated
**phichit+chu** HE WONT FUCKING ANSWER ME ANYMORE WHAT THE FUCK DONT TELL ME HES ACTUALLY MASTUrBATINg
"I wasn't," Yuuri said out loud.
"Good, that would be weird."
"Why would that be weird? There was that one time in college when-"
"Oh my god, that's gross. Let's not talk about this." Yuri made a nasty face.
"Yeah, whatever."
Yuri remembered he had a point he was trying to make. "The point is! We were worried and you shouldn't shut yourself away from us and please tell me what happened because I'm so confused."
"At least breathe while you talk."
"Shut up."
"Well, see, I've always admired Victor as a fan. He's attractive, and he has a nice blog and stuff, but I? I don't really know how I feel about him. Like, I've known him for a while now, and I know what he's _really_ like, but I'm not sure how I feel about him? So, yeah."
Phichit smiled. "It's perfectly fine if you don't know how you're feeling, Yuuri. Take your time."
"Thank you." Yuuri felt a warm fondness grow in his chest. Phichit really was his best friend.
"Okay, I agree, but was it really necessary to kiss him-"
"Just shut up."
"Right."
It was quiet.
"Well then." Yuuri stood up and stretched. "If we're done here, I'm going to go watch important videos."
"Yuuri, no, that playlist is 311 videos long-"
"Well, what can you do?" He started to walk toward his room.
"Yuuri, I swear, if you watch those fucking videos I'll burn your limited edition Love Live figurines!"
"Not Kotori, bitch! Don't touch my waifu!"
"Yee!"
Yuri sat and watched the two idiots fight over their best girls. It went on for quite a while.
"Maki is best girl!"
"Kotori is best girl!"
"No way!"
"Isn't this the real reason why we broke up in college?!"
Yuri cleared his throat. They both turned to look at him.
"Nozomi is best girl."
There was a pause.
"No way! Why would she be best?"
"She's got big boobs!"
"Maki has the innocent appeal of a tsundere!"
"Kotori's voice actor sounds like Mavis from Fairy Tail!"
The three of them decided to hold an informal debate over who was best and could not decide.
"We need a tiebreaker." Phichit said. He looked like a genius. It was just a normal idea.
"How about Victor?" Yuri asked.
"Nope, not today." Yuuri looked about ready to jump out the window.
"Don't worry, I already know his best girl." Yuri wrinkled his nose in disgust.
"Who is it?"
"It's..." There was a grave look on Yuri's face. "... Hanayo."
"What the fuck! Hanayo is no one's best girl! Why does he have such shitty opinions!"
"Let's call Chris!"
"Why would Chris have a best girl?"
"I just know he does."
Yuuri rang him up. He answered pretty quickly.
_"Is this maybe for advice about your kiss situation?"_
"No."
_"What is it, then?"_
"Who's your best girl in Love Live?"
_"Eli."_
"Of course you would. Thanks anyway."
_"Haha, bye."_
Yuuri sighed. "Who else can we call?"
"Mila."
"Alright."
They called Mila. _"What's up, bagel?"_
"What the fuck?"
_"I dunno. Why are you calling?"_
"Who's your best girl in Love Live?"
_"Rin. She's cute as fuck."_
"Um, okay then. Thanks."
_"You're welcome, I guess? Bye."_
Phichit was getting a little annoyed. "Who the fuck are we supposed to call that will actually break the tie?"
"I don't know. Let's call Guang Hong."
After a few rings, he answered. _"Hello?"_
"Love Live best girl?"
_"Um? Honoka?"_
"Of course. You're so basic."
_"Rude!"_
_"Guang, who is it?"_
Phichit grinned maliciously. "Oh, is that Leo? How are you? Guang, you little nasty."
_"Shut up!"_
_"I'm doing fine. Why are you calling?"_
"We need to hear people's Love Live best girls."
_"Umi, I guess?"_
"Wow, thanks. That helped a lot. Bye."
Yuri jumped up. "I know! Let's call Otabek. My brother shall side with me on this."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
Otabek answered after the third ring. _"Hello?"_
"Beka, quick! Love Live best girl!"
_"Nico,"_ he answered without hesitation.
"What?"
_"Nico-Nico-nii,"_ he said. His voice was deep and monotone. Everyone burst out laughing in Yuuri's apartment.
"Beka, what the fuck? I thought you would agree with me!"
_"Sure. Bye."_
Yuri wiped away fake tears. They moved on to Sara.
_"Hey, I've heard from others that you've been asking about Love Live best girls. Mine is You."_
"What?"
_"From Love Live Sunshine."_
"Wow, okay."
_"Oh! Mickey and Emil are here, too. I'll ask them."_
There was some faint yelling in the background before she returned to the phone.
_"Mickey says Chika. Emil says Yoshiko."_
"Thanks for letting us know."
_"No problem. Bye!"_
Yuri sighed loudly. "Let's call JJ."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah."
JJ picked up a little late. _"It's JJ! What do you need, Yuri?"_
"Love Live best girl."
_"Mari."_
"Well, then. Bye."
Yuri hung up. "I knew this would be fucking useless."
"We haven't called everyone yet, technically."
"That's true."
"Let's call your cousin."
"Georgi?"
"Yeah."
_"Hello?"_
"Georgi, Love Live best girl."
_"Ruby."_
"Thanks, bye."
Phichit smiled. "Let's ask Seung Gil. It's worth a shot."
"Not really, but okay."
_"What do you want?"_
"Wow, no need to be rude."
_"There is a need to be rude. Hurry up and say what you want. I can't waste time right now, it's my dog's birthday."_
"Oh my god, how cute! Tell your dog I said happy birthday."
_"Whatever. Why did you call?"_ | 9ddc28368f9a4bdebf02afa0b169d766 | ['6c8f1f6d32744b98beecdefb8683af1b'] | > im shook @ episode 10
>
> if u didn't get this chapter at all basically yuuri is like "fuck this dramatic shoujo cringe i'm out" and avoids his problems by running away physically mentally and emotionally hahahahah were u disappointed with this chapter?? i wouldn't be surprised bc i am disappointed with this chapter
>
> GIVE ME ATTENTION ON TUMBLR FOLLOW ASK DM WHATEVER I N E E D A T T E N T I O N
10. "What a beautiful wedding"
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> hey hey hey so you can decide if this chapter is romantic or not haha but lemme just tell you one thing: there are ppl in the yoi fandom who are also in the haikyuu fandom and some of them are like "omg!! shipping otabek and yuri is not good bc he's underage!!" but then they also ship kurotsukki?? it's?? the same age difference?? hypocrites hahahaha if you get mad at me for saying that pls keep in mind i said some not all
>
> many things to say!! first of all episode 12 was so good i cried so much help second of all sorry this is so late i had finals so yeah third of all the yoi gala music and shit is out and it's so good i cried at that too and fourth of all i gave myself hickeys on my arm bc of a contest with my friend (long story) and it's been a day and they're still there lmao help. that's all!!!!!!! the way yoi ended seems perfect for a second//third///seventeenth// season so let's be ready for that!! sorry again that this is so late!! love you guys and hope you enjoy this!! :)
Yuuri wondered how he got himself into this situation.
He was standing with his ear to the door. Laying flat on the ground was Victor. On top of him was Phichit. Mila was in a weird crouching position on top of Phichit. Yuuri was at least smart enough to stand off to the side.
They were listening in on a conversation.
Yuri's conversation, more specifically.
He had been terrible at trying to sneak away, and everyone followed after him. Surprisingly, he hadn't noticed.
He crept into the room and locked the door. Victor's first plan was to pick the lock. No one had a bobby pin or a paperclip, so his plan immediately failed.
Mila's plan was to threaten Yuri to come out. That didn't work, either.
Yuuri suggested they leave Yuri alone. All three of them turned and stared at Yuuri for a long moment before making plans again.
They decided to go with Phichit's plan. Since he was all about gossip, he knew the best way (?) to listen in on conversations. He insisted that lying in a huge pile was part of the plan. Yuuri, being slightly more rational than them, stood next to the mess of idiots.
Yuri clicked on the call button. Yuuri wondered why Yuri's volume was so loud.
Whoever Yuri was calling picked up on the first ring. "That's dedication," Yuuri muttered under his breath.
"Hey."
"Hi."
_Even if his volume is up that loud, how can we hear so much?_
"Did you need something?"
"I just wanted to hear your voice." Yuri's voice was surprisingly gentle, and Yuuri was slightly concerned.
There was a soft laugh. "Okay."
"Can I see you tomorrow?"
"You saw me yesterday."
"That's where he went off to, huh?" Victor looked salty. Mila slapped him and told him to shut up.
"But I haven't seen you at all since then."
"Miss me already?"
"Yeah. I do."
A loud laugh.
"Shut up!"
"I didn't say anything."
"Stop laughing!"
"Okay, okay." There was another small laugh. "I miss you, too."
"I- wait, what?"
"Hmm? Nothing."
"No, you definitely just said something."
"No, I didn't. Yuri, are you okay? I knew you were a little bit strange, but now you're hallucinating."
"Shut up, Beka. Stop changing the subject."
"I'm not."
"You are. I'm your best friend, so you have to tell me everything."
Phichit's head whipped around. "I didn't know he had a best friend!"
"No one did!"
"What a traitor!"
"Shut up!" Mila slapped them all again.
"God, Yuri, stop flattering me. It's not going to get you whatever you want."
"Yes, it is."
"Yeah, you're right. Meet me at the cafe."
"Today?"
"Tomorrow."
"Alright. See you in two hours."
"What-"
"Bye."
Yuri hung up.
It was silent.
Yuri got up with a sigh.
"Gotta make sure they didn't-"
The lock clicked, and the door was swung open.
"- listen in on me."
Victor's face, which was pressed very hard into the door, fell smack into the ground. Phichit yelped and fell onto Victor's head. Mila sprang up before she could get hurt. Yuuri stumbled awkwardly away from the door.
"Um, hey, Yurio."
"Oh my god. Never mind."
"You have a best friend? You regularly meet at a cafe? You can flatter him and he'll give you whatever you want? You're actually nice to him?"
"Yeah. I do. Leave me alone."
"No way! Tell me more!"
"Why would I?! Why are you even in my house?!"
"Because!"
"Let's all calm down, now." Victor stood up and faced Yuri.
"I'm your father! I should know about these things!"
"You're not my dad! You're my _brother_!"
"Who cares about brothers! I'm your sister, so I should know about these things first!"
"No, you shouldn't!"
"I'm clearly Yura's favorite!"
"No, I am!"
"Um, let's stop fighting, please..."
They all turned to Yuuri.
"If we're talking about favorites, it's definitely me."
It was very quiet.
"No way! It's me!"
"It's none of you! Yuuri, you're not my dad, either!"
"I thought I made it clear that I adopted you as soon as you first introduced yourself to me!"
"Why are you trying to adopt my brother! He has a perfectly functional family!"
"I'm not too sure about that!"
"SHUT UP!" |
b4c097a95bf240398f2874b846cdec2c | ['6c90a4cc1b1a4b87884356492b745adb'] | I think I’m Gay
**Author's Note:**
> Hey guys! This is a short little fluffy one shot about TJ coming out to his dads! I hope you guys enjoy!
It was a normal Friday for TJ, he got up, went to school, dreaded math class, talked to Cyrus at lunch, got too distracted by Cyrus that he didn’t eat, went to his favourite class which was history, then went home. Except his mind was occupied all day after lunch with thoughts of Cyrus. I mean this was usually normal, he always thought about him, but today was different. No matter what it reminded him of Cyrus, everything he saw and everything he did, that stupid brown hair, brown eyed, boy popped into his mind. He was too occupied with his thoughts about Cyrus once again, that he didn’t even hear his dads come home.
“Hey Teej, everything alright? You look a little lost.” His dad Mark said while putting away the groceries. The good thing about have two dads is knowing that they will always be accepting of you, but for some reason he still can’t tell them he’s gay.
“Yeah I’m just thinking.”
“WAIT IS THIS ABOUT A GIRL? I BET ITS ABOUT A GIRL! Cooper come in here TJ needs girl advice!” Mark shouted this across the house and it physically made TJ cringe. Cooper soon made it to the kitchen and asked TJ about what girl he was crushing on. It took everything in his body to muster the courage of what he was going to say
“Dads, how did you guys know you were gay?” This left both of them shocked, but a little smirk appeared on Marks face.
“I guess it was just the little things. When Uncle Chris would watch t.v he would always say these girls are so hot but I was always drawn to the male actors. But what really clued me into being gay was when I had my first crush. Everything about him made me smile, I wanted to be around him 24/7. When he was sad, I was sad. When we didn’t talk during school I couldn’t focus because I missed him, even if I just saw him.” Cooper decide to put his two sense in as well
“For me it was a little different. I thought I was straight. I’d date girls and I’d kiss girls but I never felt a spark, the way you’re supposed to feel, but the first time I kissed a boy, I felt that spark.”
“If you didn’t think you were gay how did you end up kissing a boy?”
“I don’t know if I never thought about being gay, it passed through my mind a few times but I always put it on a back burner. But to the kiss. I was hanging out with my friend John and we were reading comic books in my bedroom. He laughed about something he read and then we just laid there, talking, for like an hour. Then all the sudden he said to me ‘can I try something?’ I think I knew what he was going to do, but when he moved closer I froze. He asked if it was okay and all I could do was nod, then he kissed me. It felt like something I never felt before, and it was incredible.” TJ absorbed everything that his dads just told him, thinking back to when he sees Cyrus and how he catches his breath, how he’s all he can think about. When they walk close together all he wants to do is intertwine their fingers. Everything is finally getting put in place, like a puzzle piece. TJ takes a big breath and closes his eyes, the next thing he knows he’s telling his dads.
“I think I’m gay, and I think I’ve known this for a long time I was just scared. I don’t know why though, because you’re both gay, but it’s still scaring me.” Mark and Cooper shared a look with each other then both our one of their hands on top of TJ’s. They both knew this feeling, the feeling of fear, of rejection, of isolation, all they wanted to do at that very moment was to make sure their son knew that he was loved.
“Theodore James Kippen, we both love you more than you could ever imagine. And we both know what you’re feeling, we’ve felt it too, and it’s all normal. Very feeling you feel is real, and we are here to talk to. Just because you have two gay dads, doesn’t make it any easier to come out.” Tears started to slowly fall out of TJ’s eyes and the next thing he knew he was being enveloped is a dad sandwich. Cooper softly ruffled TJ’s hair making him let out a laugh.
“Thank you guys. I love you both.”
“Now, don’t think you’re getting away without telling us about this boy you’re crushing on!!” So the rest of the night TJ told his dads all about Cyrus and how much he meant to him, he obviously didn’t forget to tell him the little things that he got to drawn to. When the night ended and Mark and Cooper went to bed, they couldn’t help but think of how proud they are of their son. | 2214c4129b914786ad9fde0c9f799085 | ['6c90a4cc1b1a4b87884356492b745adb'] |
This isn’t goodbye
**Author's Note:**
> Hi friends! Thank you all so much for reading I really hope you enjoy it! My tumblr is @youarestillyoucyrus
Dear Tj,
When I was ten years old, my mom told me that when I meet the girl I fall in love with that I will see stars in her eyes, and an angel in her smile. When I came out to my mom as gay, she told me that nothing will change, but if don’t see some type of glimmer in his eyes to leave him behind, and that’s when I met you. God, the first time I looked into your green eyes I knew I was screwed. I never use to put the words green and happy together, but now that’s all I think, because when I see green, I see you, and you are my happy.
I always think back to that day when my mom was talking to me about falling in love, I never really understood it. I didn’t understand that I could actually get a zoo in my stomach when I looked at the right person, I didn’t understand that the phrase ‘I love you’ held so much more than just three words, but most importantly I never understood how somebody could fall in love with me, the way you do.
On our first real date you took me to a book store. We both picked out books for the other to read, then we went to target and bought fuzzy blankets and pillows, spending way too much money, then we drove around until we found an abandoned parking lot. We parked your car and made a little bed out of everything we bought and we sat there, for three hours, just reading. We read in silence but that silence said so much. It said that I’m comfortable with you, it said that I would rather spend time sitting with you and reading rather than going out on a Friday night. That was my most favourite night. After we finished reading I slid over next to you and I put my head on your chest. I could feel how fast your heart was beating, it was beating almost as fast as mine. After a few minutes you were treading your fingers through my hair, and I never felt something so soothing and electrocuting in the same sense, until you kissed me. That was our very first kiss, in the back of your car. And it was intoxicating, I knew at that moment, if I ever had to kiss just one person for the rest of my life, I would chose you.
I remember our first fight as clear as day, but now looking back to it, there was nothing to fight about. We were sitting on my bed, you were the little spoon, and you whispered into my ear “I love you.” Every time you said that I melted a little more, but I felt like your “I love you” was a little bit more than that, it felt like it was drenched in apologies. I sat up from where I was sitting and said rather harshly, “what did you do?” You looked at me with sorrow eyes, at the brink of overflowing at any moment. You said that Lily Webster kissed you that afternoon, and you tried to push her away, but it didn’t work. I yelled at you until my throat was bare, and I don’t know why, all I knew in that moment was that I wanted to be the only person to feel your lips. After the screaming was over you left, and I kept beating myself up over how I reacted, so I left my room at 12:15 that night and ran over to your house. Like any romantic, when I arrived I threw pebbles at your window. When I saw you opening your window I saw that your eyes were bloodshot, you looked like you just cried a river, and my stomach sunk because I did that to you. I made you cry, and I made you doubt yourself for a stupid reason. When I apologised we hugged, a hug that said everything that it was meant to and more, and I promised myself at moment that I would never let go of you.
Our junior prom was wild. We went out to get tuxes together, we decided to both wear grey suits with paisley blue ties. I couldn’t stop staring at you that night because of how perfect you looked, because Theodore, you looked so incredibly handsome. That night we danced until we couldn’t feel our legs, and sung until our throats were bare, but that didn’t stop us from going to Chase’s party. Most people get worried when their partner drinks because they are scared of getting cheated on, but we were both hammered. The next morning when I checked my phone I had a few snapchats from Andi, and one of them was of you standing on a table and professing your love for me.
Your last ever high school basketball game was so bitter sweet. I remember staying up until midnight the night before making sure you’re sign looked as great as you do. I decided to go with sparkly letters that said “May all your swishes come true.” You let me wear your blue basketball hoodie, that said “Captain Kippen” On the back. During your speech you said you couldn’t have made it this far without me, but I want to tell you, I couldn’t do this life thing without you.
Senior prom was one of the most amazing nights of my life. Unlike junior prom, after we danced our hearts out and took home prom court, we went back to my house and stole some liquor from my dads liquor cabinet. We spent the whole night in my room passing bottles back and forth, talking about the future, exchanging kisses between. The next morning I woke up in your arms, I never wanted to leave, I felt so safe.
Graduation, I was the valedictorian and my nerves overtook me. I remember right before we went on stage you took my hand in yours and kissed my palm, you promised me that everything was going to be alright. And it was, it was absolutely perfect, because you were by my side. We made it through high school together, but we were splitting apart in the end. You couldn’t deny that chance at a basketball scholarship in North Carolina and I couldn’t turn away Columbia, but we said we would have the summer and we did. We had the whole summer, and we spent it together. Days at the beach, nights in your car. Ice cream cones and s’mores, milkshakes and baby taters, and long drives with our fingers intertwined. I wouldn’t change it for the world.
Now, tonight, is the last night I get to spend with you, and I don’t want you to leave. I want to to tell you how much I love you, how you changed my life, but I feel like I already did that. This isn’t goodbye Teej, this isn’t breaking up, this is a see you later, this is a I’ll miss you, and most importantly this is a letter to tell you that you can accomplish your dreams, because I believe in you Theodore, I always have and I always will.
Love always,
Cyrus |
8f52f3af25f848ddaedd4e13c4dbc5eb | ['6c914310edd44a6d93812a9cfbc36da3'] | Dan - How’s your day been? (I know)
Phil - Good (nice grammar)
Phil - You?
Dan - Good (thank you)
Phil - Good (yw)
Phil - hey is Adan’s number **(NOPE!)**
Dan - yup
Phil - okay
Dan - why?
Phil - he texted me and I wanted to make sure it wasn’t a creepy old man
Phil - You’re not a creepy old man are you?
Dan - Nope!
Dan - I’m a creepy British man-baby
Phil - omg
Phil - SO AM I!!!! | 6777b3df08b6485d93e974898d13512c | ['6c914310edd44a6d93812a9cfbc36da3'] | Blazing amber eyes turned to her. “I’m going to take it to the nursery.” she murmured.
Squirrelflight shook her head. “Thank you, but no. I would rather look after her myself.”
The she-cat nodded and carefully set the little kit before her.
“This is all nice, Squirrels-flight, but what are we going to do with it?” a gray she-cat with green eyes asked.
“Prepare. Yellowtail knows where we all are. She’s going after every leader who had something to do with Darktail’s death. She already got Onestar, Harestar, Leafstar, Rowanstar, Bramblestar, and me. She’s going after Mistystar and Tigerstar next.” Squirrelflight meowed.
“Then we prepare. We continue with the raid as planned. But this time, we make sure no cat leaves alive.” Hawkstar snarled.
“I want to be the front attack. If I burst into camp, my imposter will know something’s up, but will just think I escaped. She has no way of knowing that the other Clans are coming. And I would rather die than let her know you are.” Squirrelflight spat.
~~That Night~~
Rosekit stifled a yawn as she gazed at the moon. Sparkpelt, her mother, was always unhappy about her and her sister’s names. But their leader, Squirrelstar, had chosen them.
Suddenly, a ginger she-cat burst into camp. “Where are you? Come out, Imposter! Come and face me!” she snarled, pacing in the camp.
Squirrelstar emerged from her den, blinking sleep away. “What’s going on?” she asked, looking around before her gaze settled on the she-cat. “Why are you here?”
The she-cat leapt in and slashed her claws across Squirrelstar’s muzzle. “Getting my Clan back, Flare.” she snarled.
Squirrelstar, or rather Flare, blinked in confusion before realization set in. “You escaped. Well you can’t, they all belong to me, Squirrel.” She flicked her tail and her closest guards, Slashclaw and Leafclaw stalked over and pulled Rosekit, Amberkit, and Sparkpelt out.
“Sparkpelt…” Squirrel murmured, her gaze fixed on the she-cat.
“If you come here again…” Flare smirked and slashed her claws across Amberkit’s throat.
“ATTACK!” Squirrel suddenly yowled. Cats started falling from the trees.
Sparkpelt, who was lying limp, too weak to move silently cried as Amberkit bled out.
Suddenly, jaws picked the two kits and cat up.
A gray she-cat, pale gray she-cat, and black-and-white she-cat carried them to the edge of the clearing where a golden she-cat was.
The she-cat quickly fixed some herbs on Amberkit’s wound while the pale gray she-cat soothed Sparkpelt, the black-and-white she-cat curled around Rosekit, and the darker gray she-cat dived back into the battle.
In an instant, the tide turned and only six cats were battling on Flare’s side.
Flare herself, Slashclaw, Leafclaw, Nettleclaw, Silverclaw, and Hawkclaw.
Suddenly, a yellow tabby she-cat burst through the camp. Rouges flowing in behind her.
“Yellowtail!” A cat yowled in anger.
Rosekit whimpered and shoved herself farther into the black-and-white she-cat’s fur.
“Shh, little kit. What’s your name?” the she-cat asked.
“R-Rosekit.” Rosekit responded, gazing at the battling cats in terror.
“Well, Rosekit, I’m Violetshine. I actually have kits your age. Two she-kits. Juniperkit and Pebblekit. Little darlings. I named Juniperkit after Juniperclaw, the tom who saved my life during the Great Flood. He could’ve saved himself, but he died saving me. I named Pebblekit after my mother, Pebbleshine. They’re exactly alike, if you believe what my father says. My father’s Hawkstar, the leader of SkyClan while my sister’s actually in ThunderClan. She’s expecting kits with Finleap, who was actually Hawkstar’s adopted son for a while.” Rosekit felt herself drift to sleep despite the battle while listening to Violetshine’s rambling.
~~~
Rosekit jerked away when she felt Violetshine tense. She wearily looked around the clearing, then her gaze settled on where two different one-vs-one battles were going on. The rest of the cats have stopped.
Squirrel was battling with the yellow tabby she-cat while Flare was fighting the darker gray she-cat.
“You got this, Squirrelflight!”
“Go, Yellowtail!”
“Flare! Flare! Flare!” cats cheered for their cat, hoping she won.
“Get her, Twigbranch! Remember you’re kits!” Violetshine yowled to the gray she-cat.
In an instant, Squirrel and the yellow tabby’s battle was over. The tabby was sprawled on the ground with Squirrel standing over her.
Flare wriggled out of Twigbranch’s grip and ran from the camp, yowling, “Retreat!”
The rest of the rogues bolted after her, yowling.
A dark gray tom who resembled Twigbranch started to run after the rogues. “Get them!” he yowled.
Instantly, other cats followed him, their pelts bristling with hostility.
“Wh-What’s going on?” Rosekit whimpered, pressing herself closer to Violetshine.
“Hawkstar’s taking a large group of cats after Flare and making sure they leave Clan territory for good. Don’t worry, Rosekit. You, your sister, and your mother will be just fine.” Violetshine soothed.
“No.” A croaky voice said. The two she-cats turned and saw Sparkpelt sitting up. “Midnightkit. And Amberkit’s name is Blackkit.” she meowed, “I never like that imposter’s choice of name.” She spat ‘imposter’ like it was venom.
Squirrel padded over to them. “Are you okay?” she worriedly asked.
“Now that you’re back, we’re going to be just fine.” Sparkpelt purred.
Midnightkit wriggled out of Violetshine’s grip and stood before Squirrel. “Who are you?” Midnightkit asked, sniffing her.
“I’m your mother’s mother. My name is Squirrelflight.” the ginger she-cat purred, nuzzling Midnightkit.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> A well-thought-out antagonist lasting more than 1 chapter in battle?
> pshhhh
> nope!
>
> what about a scrambled-together antagonist that is super weak
> yep!
8. Fourth Of July SPECIAL!
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> fuckin twolegs...
Midnightkit woke up from loud booms.
She whimpered and tried to get closer to Blackkit and Sparkpelt when she realized they were in the Medicine Cat’s Den.
She was alone in the nursery.
She blinked the sleep out of her eyes and pushed her way out of the den to see other cats doing it too. |
885532c6759340cdbf1f8d88340c7d62 | ['6c9aafb979754048840d76dfc6457862'] |
the living dead fill every room
They had promised this would never happen again. And then she had a fight with Zeus, he had too much to drink, and pizza really did sound good, all things considered, when she offered to swing by with some. As if the Underworld were only a quick jaunt from Olympus. When she appeared in a trench coat he assumed it had been the weather, raining with a force that had made him shudder at the start, but when Hera made herself comfortable, she had a habit of doing so with impeccable fortitude. She was naked save for a set of lingerie she knew he’d admired, navy blue satin with an eyelash lace trim that made the gold in her skin shine.
“You only mentioned the pizza,” Hades groaned, watching her remove long rain sodden boots that made his mouth water. She came in without much invitation, invading his space fully and watching him lament having accepted her offer. Hera was brilliant, and the pizza she placed on the counter with a cold six pack had him wandering nearer, cautious but pliant.
“Would you like me to leave?” Her voice was curt, and knowing in a way that should have made him uneasy. Instead it was calming, like a balm he hadn’t known he needed. Hades shook his head, grabbing two plates from the overstocked cabinet and handing her one. Hera took the time to catch her reflection in the shiny black, tucking a wet strand of hair back into her braid. He’d always loved her hair braided. A remnant of their past lives. Of the war, and of her focus and attention to his wounds. She wore her hair braided when she had a mission in mind.
Hades made space for her, as he always did when she came around. Hera opened the box, grabbing her slice, and putting a couple on his plate, sidling up to him before closing the box for the time being. The air filled with heat, though whether it was from the steam of melted cheese or from her skin touching his, Hades was uncertain. His hunger ebbed some, strangled by other needs in that moment. He was already half naked, lounging only in tight boxer briefs and a silk robe. He had always liked the way it had felt on his skin. Reminded him of the very fabric Hera wore now. Almost the right hue.
“You do this on purpose, don’t you?” He asked, sliding one finger under the strap of her nightie. Her eyes narrowed as she slapped his hand away. Hades felt his own eyes grow wide, tilting his head in confusion at the act.
“No touching,” she spoke firmly, biting at the pizza with a vigor he thought she normally reserved for her husband. He blinked several times at her, his own slices neglected. “The fuck do you mean ‘no touching?’” He spat back at her, his eyes taking in the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts barely hidden behind the touch of navy blue. She glared back at him, and Hades became increasingly aware he had been drafted to a game that he was meant to lose. She was quite good at those.
“No touching,” Hera spoke firmly again, her tongue curling out to pluck an olive from her pizza in a motion that had his throat closing. She had often made him weak in this way, knowing full well her effect on him. On men. On anyone. Hades groaned.
“Is this punishment for something I’ve done?” He asked first, his eyes quick to close, not ready to admit his wrong doing to her again. How many times would he apologize to her for harboring feelings he would never control. For harboring a loneliness she could feel from Olympus. Perhaps that was the extent of his crime. Wanting when he was meant to feel powerful, wanted. He sighed, readying himself to apologize, but instead felt gentle hands on his temple. The fingers smelled of parmesan and garlic.
“You’ve been punishing yourself, Hades,” Hera spoke, though she seemed no less fearsome than she had only moments ago. His own eyes slid open slowly, catching the elaborate glow of her skin in his realm again. He wondered if Zeus ever noticed it briefly, before shoving the thought far to the back of his mind. “I might as well get some enjoyment out of your metaphorical self flagellation.”
Each breath came faster after that, watching Hera release his head from her grip to take a step back, the pizza long forgotten on the counter top. Her fingers worked slowly, unraveling the braid she knew he preferred and letting long golden curls billow out of it. She hummed as she went, taking her time parting the strands. Hades groaned again, covering his eyes with his hands. How long had Hera known?
“Stand up, Hades,” she ordered, and he found himself obeying The Queen before he could think better of it. He felt uncomfortably vulnerable before her, scars on fully display, a guilt he knew she harbored washing through him now instead. He’d kept his eyes closed, feeling, rather than watching, her pull the robe from his shoulders so he was nearly bare. “Look at me.” | f7a44fa0718344b08ec53d765a463e44 | ['6c9aafb979754048840d76dfc6457862'] |
Queen of the Castle
She was exhausted. Tired in her bones exhausted. If she’d had the energy, she might have even chuckled at the irony of that level of tired, but Persie was too gone even for that. The wedding had been disastrous at best. Demeter had protested the entire event, rather than championing her daughter’s love, and had thrown up every obstacle, short of kidnapping, that she could. Zeus had made a mockery of marriage, Hera had tried to throw him into the cake. Artemis complained every minute as though she had been drafted to servitude, and Hades, in his infinite glory, had been too madly in love to take notice of any of it.
Persie flopped onto the bed, graceless as ever, and let out the sigh she’d been holding in. She was still fully dressed, long gown spreading across the duvet like a second sheet. Her feet ached from the sandals Eros had insisted on, but “fashion is important, sweetie, and they complete the whole look.” It was a few moments before she could find the strength to open her eyes and make the room stop spinning. Red to gold to blue to gold to blue. When it did, she caught sight of him, tall and somewhat bemused by her silence. His eyes were curious, and his head tilted, watching her hoist herself to her elbows.
“You’re overdressed for travel,” Hades answered her silent question of his arrival. At that her brows furrowed, only now noticing the suitcases packed in the corner. His was sleek and dark, a black shiny finish that matched him so perfectly, Persie was almost jealous. But then she caught sight of what she assumed had to be her own, a deep pink, almost reddish color, with small and delicate appliques. “A wedding present for you,” he added, gesturing to the stuffed carpet bag that she was itching to touch.
“You’re serious?” Persie asked, suddenly more vibrant than before. She perked up fully, crossing her legs and shaking her hair loose from it’s complicated updo, another Eros request. “That’s really mine?” Her body was rocking slightly, Hades all the more amused by the sight. He nodded twice and watched her face light up, sliding from their bed, a thought that struck him as odd for only a moment, before making her way to their luggage.
“And where is it exactly that we’re going, since you seem to have packed for me?” She asked, one brow raised as her hands raked over the soft fabric of the bag. It was sturdy, and covered in a soft vine pattern that she wanted to trace, were she less distracted by her now husband looming over her.
“It’s a surprise,” he shrugged, before ushering her to her monstrous closet to change. She was quick, sure that if she stopped to think on it, or even to sit, she might fall asleep standing up. Hades had been faster, dressed almost too casually in some traveling clothes that told little of their destination. “Come on, Little Goddess,” he smiled, grabbing his bag and hers, tossing it over his shoulder.
“Careful!” Her admonish was soft, but enough to wrestle a chuckle from him as they made their way to the car. “Aren’t you going to blindfold me if it’s a surprise?” Persie yawned into her question. Hades only chuckled again, his smile light, as she settled into the passenger seat.
“I imagine your eyes won’t stay open long enough to spoil it,” he returned, his own body settling in, watching as his new bride opened her mouth for rebuttal, only to let her tired eyes slip closed.
“Good night, Kore,” he smiled, kissing the top of her head once, before racing off.
\-------------------------------------------
It was well into the night when she woke, the smell of wood burning and the touch of something soft on her skin was pleasant, although unfamiliar. For a few moments, she allowed herself to retreat into the warmth surrounding her, a silky feeling that seemed to cling to her thoughts through her sleep daze. She started to rouse slightly, catching Hades’ attention from his book.
“Ah, you’re awake,” he spoke gently, folding the corner of his page before resting it in his lap. She glared at him for it, eyes narrowing at the sight of poor book treatment, but said nothing of her disapproval. He was still in his travel clothes, resting atop the comforter and the distance between them felt strange. Slowly, she peaked beneath her covers, noting that her own attire had not changed. Nor did she remember walking to what she presumed was a far too elegant bed.
“Now who’s overdressed?” She grumbled at him, her voice still sleepy and her hands clutching the rich fabric of the duvet. He smiled down at her, reaching to cup her cheek and kiss the top of her head once more. It made her heart start, a warm blush creeping in over her cheeks that she met with unfounded defiance.
“You know, I’m a married woman now, not just a child that needs placating,” there was a pout that followed, and he was quick to oblige, catching her pout between his own lips briefly. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, her body rising to his touch as it pulled away. When he fully parted from her, Persie’s eyes opened wide, looking every bit as innocent as the child she claimed not to be. His smiled softened more, offering her a hand. She took it, her small hand fully captured in his palm.
“Welcome to your honeymoon, my love,” Hades smiled, pulling them both from the bed to wide windows. A soft roll of dark waves on a sandy beach pulled her mouth into a contented smile. Hades wrapped his arms around her shoulders, draping his body over hers. “I thought you might enjoy a break from flower nymphs and rolling hillsides,” he spoke into her hair. |
0905e23d62c542f4af1ef74b8ec5e1a5 | ['6cadc1c5f65741cc9484ce216f0025a6'] | "En far was - is - Loptr Larsson. High priest of our coven there. A well-respected man, the highest ranking warlock in Norway. I don't think you would have heard of him though, unless you are well-read or have links to that side of the world." When nobody replied, Helheim continued.
"He is a Norwegian warlock and she was a British witch. "She" being Rowena Parker. Our mother," a small smile touched Helheim's face as she thought about the woman. "Perhaps Sigrún's en mor moreso than mine. I mean, mor and I were close, however far and I were closer. Either way, I loved her, and I believed her."
"Believed her? What do you mean?" Sabrina asked. At this question Helheim stopped, licking her dry lips as her eyes landed on Sigrún, eyebrows drawn together.
"Far was possessive. He was the high priest, after all, and that made him royalty. A royal family must not be infected in any way, and that of course includes the children. But he thought we had been," Helheim murmured. "Not instantly. It was later, the evening before Sigrún's thirteenth birthday. That's when Loki came to him-"
"Loki?" It was Zelda's turn to interrupt, head tilted slightly. Helheim looked over at her.
"The Dark Lord. We call him Loki. He isn't a lord in our eyes, but a God. _The_ God. The only one that matters. But he is the same as what you American's call the Dark Lord," she explained before continuing.
"Loki came to far and called Sigrún a changeling. When far awoke, he gathered the coven together and made the accusation in front of everyone. On my søster's thirteenth birthday she was put on trial along with our mor, who was found guilty of not taking care of far's original child with her, allowing the babe to be taken by trolls and replaced with one of their kind - Sigrún. Because of this, she was killed by far. He then had Sigrún locked up until he decided what to do with her. I wouldn't give him the chance to find an answer to that question though."
Reaching down and brushing a strand of brown hair off her sister's bloody face, Helheim smiled.
"I stole her away," she whispered. "We ran from our coven and across the sea where their magic could not harm us... harm her. We have been here ever since, learning how to adjust to the mortal world, trying to survive. I don't know if far tried to look for us. I don't even know if Ragna was safe from his wrath-"
"Ragna?" Hilda questioned.
"The youngest. There were three Loptrsdotters. She was ten when we left."
"So... That explains why you're here," Sabrina said, casting a glance at Sigrún who still continued to sleep. "We still don't know why she's killing people, though."
"Nor do I."
"What?" The exclaimation came from all the Spellmans, staring in shock at Helheim who could only offer them a shake of her head and shrug of her shoulders.
"She didn't always do this. It started a few months after her sixteenth birthday, maybe a little earlier, however I cannot be sure. Jörmungandr was the one who caught her killing a girl from her school. By the time I found her that early morning in an alley near our apartment the girl was practically dead, and when I tried to save her Sigrun used her powers against me. Afterwards, when she returned home to bed and I had cleaned up her mess, she seemed to have no knowledge about what had occured."
"She couldn't remember killing her!?" Zelda exlaimed, making Helheim nod.
"She can't remember any of them. She doesn't know."
"So instead of sleep-walking, she's sleep-killing?" Ambrose said.
"It would appear so."
"Has... has she always killed this many people in such a short amount of time?" Sabrina asked.
"No. It started with perhaps one or two people a year, but something's different this time. She's never done something like this before," Helheim told them, rubbing her arms as though that particular knowledge made her muscles ache. She looked down at her sister, eyebrows drawn together in stress.
"I don't know what to do," she admitted softly. "I... I know that this is bad. It's getting so much worse, more agressive. But... But I can't kill her. She is my sister, my flesh and blood. And I am not like my far. I would never hurt a family member. I just... I just don't know what to do."
Tears slowly beginning to spill down her cheeks Helheim sniffed, wiping at her eyes. Looking at each other Hilda and Zelda frowned. Despite their differences and the amount of times Zelda had put Hilda in the Cain pit, they would never be able to permanantly kill the other. Standing, Hilda walked over to Helheim, wrapping the younger woman in her arms.
"It's okay, sweetheart. Don't you fret now, okay?" she cooed, brushing the girl's dark hair with her hands. Zelda nodded softly, looking at Ambrose and Sabrina who could only watch the scene with sadness.
"Yes, don't cry, Helheim. You're in safe hands," Zelda agreed, standing up. All eyes on her, the group watched as Zelda folded her arms and began pacing the room.
"What are you thinking, aunty?" Sabrina asked, speaking the words that everyone was thinking.
"You say it started after her sixteenth birthday? When she was supposed to have her dark baptism but didn't?" Zelda asked. With a sniff Helheim nodded, gripping Hilda's arm softly.
"Then we give her what she must need. A dark baptism. A coven to call home. Guidance from those that are like her, like you."
"Are you suggesting Sigrún join the coven?" Ambrose asked, eyebrows raised. Zelda nodded.
"Precisely."
"But aunty, you do know that would mean you would have to speak with-" Ambrose began before Zelda nodded, cutting him off with a wave of her hand. | 45e8326d834f4f4e8bbeb0f3183c2fd1 | ['6cadc1c5f65741cc9484ce216f0025a6'] |
1. - Chapter One -
** \- C A S T - **
Kaya Scodelario **as** Catherine "Kit" Tozier
Jaeden Lieberher **as** William "Bill" Denbrough
Bill Skarsgård **as** It / Pennywise the Dancing Clown
Wyatt Oleff **as** Stanley "Stan" Uris
Jeremy Ray Taylor **as** Benjamin "Ben" Hanscom
Sophia Lillis **as** Beverly "Bev" Marsh
Finn Wolfhard **as** Richard "Richie" Tozier
Jack Dylan Grazer **as** Edward "Eddie" Kaspbrak
Chosen Jacobs **as** Michael "Mike" Hanlon
** \- P L A Y L I S T - **
_** Chapter One ** _
Thousand Eyes - Of Monsters and Men
_"I lie awake and watch it all//It feels like a thousand eyes."_
Ease - Troye Sivan
_"Take me back to the basics and the simple life//Tell me all of the things that make you feel at ease."_
Teen Idle - Marina and the Diamonds
_"The wasted years, the wasted youth."_
Blush - Wolf Alice
_"Curse the things that made me sad for so long//Yeah it hurts to think that they can still go on."_
_Get Free - Lana Del Rey
_"I never really noticed that I had to decide//To play someone's game or live my own life."__
Overgrown - Oh Wonder
_"And in the middle of the night when you're on your own//I'm chasing down light in the indigo//It's just the way you are when you're overgrown//And I will never let you go."_
The Yawning Grave - Lord Huron
_"I know the rain like the clouds know the sky."_
Foreigner's God - Hozier
_"Screaming the name of a foreigner's God//The purest expression of grief."_
Ribs - Lorde
_"And I've never felt more alone//It feels so scary, getting old."_
**_[ "A memory of summer, Cathy?" ]_ **
2. The Not-Writer
I am not a writer. I never have been. It's not my kind of artform.
Give me a paintbrush or some charcoal, along with a canvas or some good quality sketch paper, and I can give you a thousand pieces of art. Give me a pencil and tell me to write some words, and I can give you this: A big old wordy mess.
But words are easier to use when it comes to this. If I were to draw it out I think the creations may slip off the page and come to life. Let the images live in my mind, at least I know how to keep them hidden. I can control them in there. I don't want to see them with my own eyes, though. Not again.
I can hear Richie downstairs. From what I can pick up it sounds like he's setting up the easel he and our parents brought for today. I've known about it for the past week now, all three of them are terrible at hiding things - I don't even think our parents tried - but I'll act as surprised as I was when I first found out. Hearing him downstairs, cluttering about and swearing like a sailor makes me grin. I used to cringe at his foul language, wondering where the Hell he picked it up from. It couldn't have been our parents, when are they ever around if it isn't someone's birthday or Thanksgiving or Christmas? Probably school, that's where most kids pick it up from. Nowadays, though, I'm thankful to hear it. After everything we've been through...
And not just us. The others as well, our little Losers club. And all the other kids who probably saw or heard things too. And then... Well, the victims of course. They got the worst of It. 'It' with a capital 'I' is no grammar mistake, by the way. They really did get the worst of It.
Sorry. Morbid jokes like that are nothing to laugh about. Richie and I obviously share in our sense of humour. I won't do it again.
But yeah, I'm happy to hear Richie swear. I'm happy to be sitting on my bed and writing this down. I'm happy. First time in years I'm happy.
But that's part of our story, the whole "why were you not happy?" thing. So I guess with that little arc, I might as well start.
It began hundreds of years ago apparently, but for the purpose of this story we'll just be focusing on the most recent attack. For the people of Derry and one boy in the Losers Club, it began on a rainy day in October, 1988. It began with Georgie, and what happened to him...
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Let IT begin...
3. The Last Day
Her hands were stained red.
That was the problem with the school's paint supply: they had a thing for staining the skin. Usually Kit was careful with the paint in art class, either getting it on the canvas or her apron. Today, however, she had decided to use her hands for this piece. It was a sacrifice she was willing to make. Anyway, it wasn't like the boys would care. If anything they would think it was badass.
_Think?_ She thought, looking at her finished artwork. _Do they ever think?_ She would've smirked at that in the past, but the thought came and went like a gust of wind without stirring even the corner of her lips.
"And what have you got for us today, Kit?" Mrs McCane smiled at the teenager, looking the piece up and down.
"Nothing crazy today. Just a sunset in Europe from a family holiday a few years ago," Kit replied as she continued packing her things up, pausing. It was a brief moment, one that Mrs McCane or anyone else would've missed as they weren't watching properly. If someone had, they would've noticed the way Kit clenched her eyes or the shiver that ran down her spine. But it was only a brief moment. |
4bf2c59cf8a94e5c8e2580e4c4212f57 | ['6cc8a4701b0b411194dc067305554fa5'] |
1. Cotton
London, essentially, to Jaehyun was just another big city.
He was well acquainted with big cities; he had lived the majority of his life in a penthouse in Seoul, overlooking the cold Han River, overlooking the cold city.
HIs life hasn't changed much.
But big cities to him were always cold. He was well acquainted with London, working at Canary Wharf, house located near Noting Hill where all the well-off loved in pretty white houses closed off by pretty large doors. But it wasn't home.
And as he stepped off the plane into Heathrow's airport bustling terminal, he realised - that his mother is dead. And that there really is no home for him now. Not that penthouse in Seoul or his house in Notting Hill nor in the arms of the only woman he's ever loved. The thought hits him hard.
But he managed to drag himself to immigration and stand in line for an hour amongst the crowd of tourists to get his passport checked where he got the usual questions- What was his job? How long has he stayed in London? Where does he live?
_Jesus_ , he thought, even with a work permit and a long-standing VISA and so many freaking stamps in his passport and the businessman vibe that literally radiates from his pores and his shiny cufflinks; you would think Jung Jaehyun would get pass border control much quicker after all these years. But he doesn't and he just bears with it because UK customs were always so rigorous on everyone who wasn't remotely Caucasian.
He took a cab ride into London and just zoned out for the most of it, making light conversation with the cabbie, he slipped back into his accent quickly, eloquently complaining about the British weather that never changes - abysmal drizzle and some other topics in the news he had missed when he was at Korea for the funeral.
It's already late afternoon when he arrived. His house is sparse as it is boring. He doesn't quite hate it as much as his family home back in Seoul but it doesn't feel quite lived in enough to be called his home. Irene tried her best to make his house his home because "It's going to be our home soon Jaehyun," she reminded him. There's a vase full of dead carnations that used to be soft yellow but now they're withered and brown and his housekeeper doesn't come until tomorrow so he can't help but just leave them there as to not offend Irene.
He would never want to offend Irene.
Not when she would bring him flowers from the Farmer's market in Chelsea when really it should be him bringing him flowers. Not when she dragged him out of his house every time the Tate Modern had a new exhibit because she knew he appreciated art. Not when she stayed the night and all that he can do is whisper apologies against her sweat-slicked skin as they fucked.
He wished he was better towards his fiancée. He wished they were better at this whole love, almost-married-but-not-yet kinda relationship. They try their best. They smile in front of their friends. They hold hands and kiss and say nice things about each other. But Irene was a beloved friend and a forced lover. And a whole tour de force of comfort and childhood security.
His house phone is blinking red with voice messages and he's not quite sure if he's ready to face the music but he pressed the button anyway and it's Irene because of course, it's Irene.
"You haven't been answering my calls and you left my messages on read." There is an ugly pause and she let out a sigh. "Look I know you’re grieving and I'm sorry I had to leave Seoul earlier. But you can't just keep quiet and pretend that you're not hurt Jae. Talk to me. Please." There's an edge of desperation in her voice but there's also annoyance- probably because he hasn't answered her messages. He knew that he could make it up to her tomorrow, buy her new earrings or something after lunch.
But he also knew he wasn't up for pretence so soon after reality had come crashing down on him in the form of a death of his loved one.
His only loved one.
Jaehyun doesn't ponder on his mother too long. Sadness has a way of staying with him in the rain, through the night, in the glare of lights of his office. He doesn't want to remember her so much partly because of the guilt he had for not loving her enough.
So he poured himself a glass of cognac, thick and heady as it slid down his throat and he retired to bed, hell-bent on sleep and not dreams.
_God knows he's given up on those._
* * *
Taeyong spent his mornings with Yuta and a cup of tea every day, in his always-cold office. It’s the only rhyme in his hectic life and he liked having Yuta’s company to calm his mornings. Maybe it’s because Nakamoto Yuta makes good conversation. Maybe it’s because he just makes really really good tea.
Taeyong wouldn’t be surprised. He does the Ocha or tea ceremony for visitors of the museum sometimes. Today he made lemongrass tea in a blue China teapot and it perfumed his office, making it smell like a Thai spa.
"That smells divine." He smiled over his crossword and sloshed his tea onto Yuta's fresh copy of 'The Times', Yuta grimaced. They have their respective mugs out; Yuta's mug emblazoned with UCL logo and Taeyong's Spongebob mug that he got from his roommate back in college.
"You seriously have to change your mug."
Taeyong frowned.
"Why?"
"I mean come on Taeyong. You hold a PhD. You're a professor. You've published two research papers."
"Actually three research papers."
"The point is Taeyong... you're not twelve. Honestly, this is why your flat-ass doesn't get laid." | e420647ec61f4a9488bc0f059299d25a | ['6cc8a4701b0b411194dc067305554fa5'] | “I hoped she was dead.” He said quietly.
“No, you don’t.” Jaehyun whispered taking his shaky hands in his. Taeyong was shivering so much from anguish, his eyes glassy from would-be tears.
“I thought it would be easier. So why am I the one in pain? Why couldn’t she be dead?”
“Life... doesn’t work that way.” He said softly. Taeyong pulled him close into a hug, burying his face into the other’s neck, hiding his tears. It is then that Taeyong splinters.
“I hoped she was dead. But that’s just a childish hope. But no, she’s in there, decked in jewellery and designer clothes and she’s some CEO’s wife now. I wonder what household she ruined for that. It would have been better if she was dead.”
“No, you don’t. I see it in your eyes. You hated her. You hated both of them. But not dead. Not to that extent.” He shushed him whilst stroking his hair.
“I hate them. I wish they were dead. But they’re still alive. Both of them. They’re both still haunting me.” He sobbed, trying to control his flood of emotions.
“Shhhh... its fine. I’m here. I’m here. I’m so sorry.” Jaehyun wanted to kiss the pain away but it wasn’t as easy as that.
“That hurt more than I thought it would. I thought it would be easy to hurl barbed words to someone you hate. It felt good for one minute and then it made me feel like shit because in the end, my words don’t matter. She left. It happened. My words don’t change anything.” Jaehyun pulled away to cup his face and look at him. Really look at those swimming sad eyes that he loved.
“Words rarely do.” He began to brush the tear streaks with his thumb. “Because we have to follow through with our actions for our words to have meaning. So, the other day when I said I love you. It meant waking up with you every morning. It meant pulling you in to kiss the tip of your nose in between coffee. It meant threading my fingers through your hair in bed. And intertwining our fingers when we watch movies. And letting you put pineapple on pizza even though I think it’s gross and an abomination to pizza toppings. And coming home to eat dinner with you. So it’s okay if it hurts.”
Jaehyun paused and pulled him into a burning kiss.
“Let me hurt with you.”
He breathes as he looked at Taeyong with pleading eyes and it felt like breathing again after a long time. Exhaling and inhaling. Breathing and being breathless all at once.
“She left me, Jaehyun. I was a child. I never understood what they fought about. I never understood that I was the reason why.” His voice breaks a bit and so does Jaehyun’s heart.
“It was never your fault.”
“I was never a reason for her to stay...”
“Well, who cares about her? You’re my reason.” Jaehyun said with fiery eyes and Taeyong sniffled. Lee Taeyong was this beautiful, beautiful boy who did not deserve all the hurt he did. “I wouldn’t even care about life if you weren’t here. Now, look at me. I spent my whole day being fucking jealous of Irene.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s pretty.”
“I’m not even into girls. What’s the real reason?”
“Just seeing you two together... I mean I’ve always wondered if I’ve robbed you of your time, Taeyong.” He admitted. He was jealous. Not just of Irene, but of all the hot-blooded, youthful people who surrounded him like moths to a lamp.
“What?” He sputtered, red eyes widening in surprise.
“You’re young and intelligent and ridiculously attractive. And what I mean by that is it’s not like I’m afraid of robbing a cradle or anything. You’re legal. But you have so much time. You’re so young. I feel bad to push you into this type of commitment.”
“Shut up.”
“If you make mistakes, Taeyong. Don’t let me be yours.”
“You’re so stupid.” Taeyong muttered before tiptoeing and simultaneously pulling him into a chaste kiss. It was sudden, but so gentle that it made Jaehyun shiver from the intimacy despite being out in the open; the cold night wind brushing his cheeks harshly against the heat of Taeyong’s hand.
“Well, that’s one way to shut me up.” He breathed in heavily, a little bit more high than he was before.
“I swear if you say the word ‘young’ again, I’ll slap you.”
“Where?” Jaehyun’s mouth stretched into a knowing smile, teasing coquettishly.
“I didn’t think you were into that type of... kink.”
“My kink is you.” Taeyong laughed and Jaehyun felt his muscles loosen up in relief.
“Honestly, it’s moments like this that reassure and scare me at the same time.”
“I was joking. I’m just jealous. I’m sorry.” He sighed, leaning against Taeyong’s arm.
“No, you’re just Jae-lous.”
“Haha funny.”
“I’ve been Jae-less for awhile.” He admitted.
“Over. You’re overdoing it now.” Jaehyun tried to contain himself from laughing at the stupid and not-so-funny joke. But it was Taeyong, so he laughed anyway.
“Am I? Even for your level? I must have hurt you today.”
“Very very much. Don’t smile so brightly at Irene. It shakes my heart.”
“Jaehyun.” His smirk faded into a smile, and the lights by the river suddenly don’t look that dazzling or bright anymore, not in comparison.
“Yes?”
“Don’t smile so brightly at me. It shakes mine.” He said in sotto voce, hands intertwining. They kiss again and Jaehyun doesn’t give a damn who might see, and how inappropriate this was. Or what was wrong or right, real or an illusion. His thoughts were only for the person he loved.
“Okay for real though, that was a smooth as fuck pick up line. You have to agree.” Taeyong laughed and it lights up his whole entire life.
He was not jealous.
He had Taeyong afterall. |
3f4d53e01e0749b694361800f5716d05 | ['6ce447ba3fae4369a1a6b9b74d2de202'] | Blatantly ignoring Wace’s presence and Jen’s body language, the guy reached out as if to touch Jen and she flinched back, hard. Wace’s hand shot out, grabbing the man’s wrist and bending back slightly, just enough to hurt a little.
“I don’t think you really wanna do that, mate,” he said harshly. “An’ what’s more, I don’t think _she_ wants ya ta do that.”
He punctuated his words with one more sharp bend of his wrist before letting go, and the man gasped with pain. He opened his mouth as if to say something to Wace, but Jen stepped between them, fully facing Wace, one small hand coming to rest on his chest.
“D’ya mind if we leave early?” she asked, loudly enough for the blond man to hear. “I’m feelin’ kinda tired. I’d like ta get outta here.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Wace said. Turning, he jumped a little with surprise as she slipped her arm through his, pressing into his side.
She cast a glance over her shoulder at the man and said coolly, “Excuse us. Have a nice evening,” as they walked away together.
As they passed through the door, Jen waved at Principal Jenkins, letting her know they were leaving.
She kept her arm in Wace’s all the way to the car, and he smiled tightly at her as he held the door open for her to slide in, only stealing a quick glance at the skin above her knees where her skirt rode up. She tugged on the material self-consciously, and he closed the door gently, walking around to get behind the wheel.
“So, where to?” he asked casually. “Home?”
She shook her head quickly. “Nah, ‘s too early for that. How ‘bout you pick somewhere? Anywhere’s fine.”
Encouraged that she didn’t want to cut their evening short, Wace wracked his brain for somewhere they could go. While he thought, he undid the top three buttons on his shirt, sighing in relief at the relaxed feeling it brought. The sleeves were bothering him, too, and he unbuttoned the cuffs and rolled them up his forearms. She was watching him intently, and he gave her a sheepish glance.
“Um, how about Charlie’s?”
“The tavern?” she asked, and he nodded. “That’s fine. That’s great, actually.”
He nodded and put the car in gear, hopeful at the way the evening was progressing but still nervous as hell about the whole thing. How long was it going to take for her to realize he wasn’t the kind of guy most girls wanted to bring home to Mum and Dad?
He glanced over at her, noticing how she was still tugging down the hem of her skirt and wishing she wouldn’t do that -- it just made him notice her legs more than he already did, and fuck, but she had great legs.
Great everything, actually, and he thought that she was just so _pretty_ it hurt. He made up his mind right then that he was going to enjoy this as much as he could while it lasted, because he was fairly sure he wasn’t ever gonna find another girl like this one.
He cleared his throat, determined to make conversation on the way to Charlie’s. “So what did ya do before ya came ta Erko?”
It was a lame question, but it was a start and he figured they could take it from there.
“I was at university,” Jen smiled. “This is my first teachin’ job. I’m kinda excited, but a little nervous, too.”
_‘University? Shit.’_
Somewhere in his mind, Wace had known that she had to have gone to university if she was a teacher, but hearing her say it so casually only reminded him exactly how much he wasn’t her type. He hadn’t even finished eighth year classes.
“That’s nice, though,” he said, frustrated that the conversation wasn’t going as easily as he’d hoped. He wasn’t really sure what to say to her.
“I hope so,” she shrugged, and he read tension all over her. A few short moments passed and she turned to watch his profile. “Thanks, by the way. For what you said to Cliff, I mean. I appreciate it.”
“Cliff?” Wace asked, figuring she had to be referring to the grabby guy at the dinner. “That ‘is name?” He snorted. “Fuckin’ appropriate,” he muttered under his breath. “Made me wanna jump off one.”
She giggled, and he tossed her a rakish grin, his eyes glinting with mischief. He saw that she relaxed, leaning back in her seat and letting her hands drift away from the hem of her skirt. He sighed quietly in relief as he took the familiar turns on the road towards the tavern.
Once they were there, they got a seat in a booth against the far wall and ordered dinner, since their intended meal for the night had been so abruptly interrupted. She ordered a hamburger and a beer, and he had to duck his head to hide a smile. Maybe they weren’t so ill-matched after all, he thought as he ordered the same.
The server brought their beers out first and Jen lifted her bottle to him in a toast. He clinked his against hers, raising his eyebrows as if to ask what they were toasting. She never said, only tilted her bottle back and took a long swallow. He took a sip of his own, watching her throat work, and smiled at her when she set her beer down.
“What were we toastin’?” he wanted to know.
“Escaping,” she answered, a pink blush creeping into her cheeks, and he sat back, laughing.
Their food came surprisingly fast, and they both started another beer halfway through their meal. He noticed she was drinking hers pretty quickly and wondered if she didn’t realize what she was doing or if she just held her alcohol well and knew it. Within a few short minutes, he found out it definitely wasn’t the second one. | 3551ae78d7824b41b995883b3e8791e8 | ['6ce447ba3fae4369a1a6b9b74d2de202'] | “Okay,” he cut her off abruptly, the noise clambering in the background starting to sound like it was getting closer. “I’ll call ya when I -- fuck. Jen, I gotta go!”
With that, the line went dead and it was several seconds before Jen brought the phone down from her ear and really registered what had happened. The beginnings of a loud clatter stopped Wace in the middle of his sentence and then he’d just... hung up the phone.
She frowned at the handset resting loosely in her palm and then reached over to the phone cradle next to her and pushed down the buttons to get a dial tone. Reaching for the notepad she kept in her end table drawer, she flipped through the pages until she reached Lanny’s number.
If she wasn’t able to help Wace directly with what was going on, then maybe she could try on her own to find out some answers.
After only two rings, Lanny’s familiar voice answered with a frantic-sounding, “Hello? Barky?”
_‘Oh shit,’_ Jen thought. _‘If she doesn’t know where he is either...’_
“Lanny, it’s Jen,” she said quietly.
“Jen, hey,” Lanny said, sounding tired. “Sorry ‘bout that...”
“No - hey, no worries. I was actually callin’ ta see if you knew where he was, but...”
“Oh, I _know_ where he is,” she answered, and Jen could hear the worry and resentment in her tone. “I was just waitin’ for ‘im ta call an’ tell me he got there okay.”
“You wanna tell me where ‘there’ is?” Jen asked, trying to keep her voice a little light. “Wace’s worried about him.”
_‘Okay, Wace actually sounds pissed, but it’s because he’s worried,’_ Jen thought. _‘Mostly,’_ she tagged on to the end.
“Y’mean ‘e didn’t even tell Wace? Jesus, fuck, Barky,” she sighed. “Queensland. I _think_.”
Jen sat in stunned silence for a minute. “Wh... Queensland? But that’s... that’s at least a three-day drive...”
“Yeah,” Lanny sighed. “He said he was headin’ north, to the cane fields. He left me a letter.”
“A _letter_? You mean –”
“Didn’t bother ta tell me in person, no,” Lanny confirmed. “Prob’ly knew I’d try ta talk ‘im out of it.”
“Oh, Lanny, I’m sorry... that... my God, how are you doin’ with all that?”
Jen could almost hear her shrug. “Well...‘e’s been bitchin’ about gettin’ outta here for a while...”
“But, to just leave... to leave _you_...”
“Wasn’t that much of a surprise,” Lanny said in a small voice. “We ‘aven’t... well, ‘e ‘asn’t been _interested_ in a while...”
“Yeah, I know that feelin’,” Jen muttered before she could censor the thought.
“What?” Lanny asked, genuine shock coloring the word. “Not you an’ Wace...”
“No - well, kind of - but I know ‘e’s dealin’ with a lotta stuff. ‘E’s just stressed... tired.”
“Uh-huh,” Lanny said, not totally convinced but trying to sound supportive. “Well, anyway, I think Bark took the train out a few days ago. In ‘is letter, ‘e said ‘e’d try ta call, let me know ‘e got there okay... I figured ‘e must’ve gotten there prob’ly late yesterday, so I was hopin’...”
“Yeah,” Jen answered as the other girl’s voice trailed off. “Well, listen, if you need anythin’...”
“Yeah, you too,” Lanny sighed.
“Okay, well, I’ll let you go in case he tries to call. Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
The click was almost immediate, and Jen looked at the phone, worry swelling up inside of her for Barky, for Lanny... and for Wace. God only knew how he was going to take this news.
With a deep breath, she dialed the number, her fingers shaking as she pressed the buttons and her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for him to answer.
“What?” came an angry shout over the other end of the line.
“Um - Wace? It’s... it’s me.” She wasn’t sure if her hesitance was more to do with the temper he was already displaying or her fear of how much that was going to increase once he heard what she had to say.
He sighed openly into the receiver, cringing at the loudness of it in his own ears as he leaned tiredly against the wall. “Whaddya need, Jen?”
_‘Fuck,’_ she thought.
This wasn’t gonna be fun at all.
“Nothin’, really, I was just...”
She paused. She’d had half a thought of asking him to meet her, to tell him in person, but she had a feeling she wouldn’t get that halfway out of her mouth before he’d shoot it down. The best way would definitely be the most direct.
“I called Lanny. Barky’s in Queensland.”
“How the _fuck_ did ‘e get ta Queensland?” he asked after only a moment, disbelief coloring his voice. “What the hell is ‘e doin’ all the way up there? Is ‘e all right?”
“She just said... he left ‘er a letter, said ‘e’d gone to the cane fields. I dounno know - she hasn’t heard from him since then.”
He would’ve asked her to repeat what she’d just said if his mouth and brain were cooperating, but since they weren’t, he settled for squeezing the unrelenting plastic of the receiver as hard as he could.
“ _Cane fields_?” he managed to ground out. “‘E gave ‘er a fuckin’ letter sayin’ ‘e was runnin’ off t’the _cane_ fields?”
She knew there wasn’t anything more she could tell him, but she felt obligated to attempt to give him some kind of answer, so she told him as much of what she knew as she felt safe with. “She thinks he took the train out a few days ago; she’s expecting him to ring her to tell ‘er he got there okay. She’s really worried, ‘cause she figures he should’ve been there by now.”
Realizing what she’d just said, she hurried to tag on, “I’m sure ‘e’s okay, though - I mean, I’m sure he just hasn’t been able to find a phone, or something...” |
d8a8b4d850f848dea3f12f3fd73fb1be | ['6cf435f58ca44c229d2205bb59c05d1e'] | STUCKY HEADCANON; FIRST DANCE
LINK
when i hear this song; i think of steve and bucky going to the club when tony pushes the avengers to go. i can picture steve being across the club drinking beer with sam and watching bucky finally opening up and having a conversation with natasha. and steve can’t help but have a huge smile on his face because for once in his life he’s happy. because bucky’s home.
then when he hears sam make the suggestion to ask bucky for a dance he almost jumps at the chance but then his step falters and his bright smile drops a bit. he knows now that it was okay to be gay, because it was the 21st century but he still can’t help but think of how things were for them in the past and that puts a huge dent in his confidence. he then felt a hand grip his shoulder and he turns his head and finds sam smiling and telling him that it’s okay to want to be with bucky in that way, and to not worry about what anyone else has to say about it; it was my time to finally be happy with the person who is the reason that i smile more.
steve then squares his shoulders back, gave sam a smile while setting his beer down and then walked across the club to where bucky was sitting with natasha. she looked right at steve, and while sipping her drink she looks at bucky then nods her head over at steve. bucky frowned a little at being interrupted but still looked over and when he saw steve, he gave the biggest smile and steve believes that he has never seen a smile as bright as his and that’s when he knew: he loved bucky, and he always will, ‘til the end of time.
steve stops in front of bucky and then with every courage he can muster, with a blush on his face, he held his hand out and asked bucky if he would like to dance with him. the look on bucky’s face could be deemed as priceless, like a deer caught in headlights with his mouth open. and from the corner of his eye, he could see natasha grinning around her straw and then closing his jaw, she nudges bucky forward. bucky shook his head a bit and then looked right at steve with the same bright smile and grabbed the hand that steve held out.
when i hear this song; as it starts playing from the speakers of the club, steve and bucky get to the middle of the dance floor and steve then stands there still holding bucky’s hand and looks at him with a soft smile and tells him he’s not entirely sure what do to from there in terms of dancing. bucky then shook his head at steve while smiling and then pulls him in closer. bucky puts his metal arm around steve’s waist, and his warm hand around his neck and leaned forward to whisper in steve’s ear that he guess it was time to finally give him that dance lesson he’s promised to give him in the past.
as the song continues to play; i picture bucky beginning to slow dance with steve to get him going with the beat, and then as steve finally can feel the heat of the club and the ground trembling to the bass, and the feel of bucky’s hands on him he gets the courage to get even closer to him. gets the courage to wrap his arms around bucky’s waist and pulls closer. closer than they have ever been before and steve closes his eyes tightly and lays his forehead against bucky’s shoulder, breathing deeply as though he tries not to cry at how perfect their bodies fit together when they move to the beat of the song. and when he hears bucky cursing and kissing his temple hard, lifting his head, he looks deep into bucky’s blue eyes and gently cups his face. leaning closer while tilting his head up, steve whispers to bucky, i’ll always be with you. and when he hears bucky whisper back the words that mean the most, steve kisses bucky and made a vow that he will always love and cherish bucky for the rest of his life.
**_i’m with you ‘til the end of the line = i love you ‘til the end of time._ **
**Author's Note:**
> this is my first headcanon that i finally had the courage and somehow a good writers mind to write
>
> so please be kind to me!
>
> also i'm over at tumblr if you want to come cry with me at how gross stucky is.
>
> http://USER.tumblr.com | d4897d0597a44e6989447bf6908b2365 | ['6cf435f58ca44c229d2205bb59c05d1e'] | Morning Cuddles
**Author's Note:**
> i'm going to be doing a variety of these prompts to help me put words onto the computer or on paper and help me for future references when i decide go to university for englishbut i need to be able to word out my thoughts and ideas properly, so here we are!
>
> and if you want you can follow me on tumblr and give out more prompts :)
>
> www.deafdean.tumblr.com
Sunlight shone bright through the bedroom from their hotel room the winchester brothers had rented the past couple days cause they were too sore to drive back to the bunker after a hunt. Sam was still snoring away on his bed, and on the other bed had Cas and Dean, who was currently trying to wake other up. Cas is a human at the moment, but helped out as much as he could with his knowledge and fighting skills. While he was great at hunting, doing other mundane things on the other hand, was a complete different story. Getting the once-angel to sleep was hard enough, waking him up, was even harder.
Dean opens his eyes and groans at the bright light flowing into the room and curses at Sam for forgetting the close the curtains. He sits up and rubs his hands over his face trying to wake himself up. As he’s doing that, the other occupant in the bed rolls over and curls into dean’s side trying to get into his warmth. Dean looks over and smiles as Cas leans into Dean’s hand when he runs his finger’s through his hair. Dean leans down and places a kiss on his cheek, and chuckled when Cas twitches and hides his face further in the pillow. Dean kisses his head, then his neck, then both his collarbones, and then his chest where his heart resides.
Cas groans and opens one bleary eye to look at Dean, “What on earth are you doing, Dean?” Dean gives him and innocent look and tilts his head to the left to look at him better, “I have no idea what you’re talking about baby.” Dean lets out a laugh as Cas glares at him from the nickname, “I am not your car, Dean. I meant why are you waking me up.” Cas grumbles as he rolls over on his stomach looking away from the hunter. Dean rolls his eyes lovingly and rubs his hand up and down his back lightly, smiling when Cas’ back clenches up. “Geez, aren’t you a ball of sunshine this morning. I’m awake, and I wanted your company.” Cas sighed deeply at the comforting hand on his back, helps him almost forget that his wings aren’t there, almost. “Did you really have to wake me up for that?” He said as he turns his head back over to look at Dean.
Dean stills his hand when Cas looks at him, and laid back down on his side facing him, “Yep, you’re rather boring company asleep Cas.” The once-angel squints his eyes at Dean, and sighed again as he rolls back over facing him. “Fine, you win this time. But next time, don’t wake me up.” Dean laughes as he wrapped his arms around Cas when he snuggles into him, “Can’t promise you anything.” Cas shakes his head and gives Dean’s chest a light kiss, then looks up at him with a soft smile while placing his forehead on his “I know, but the thought of it counts” Dean closes his eyes, places one of his hands on Cas’ cheek then leans forward to give Cas a soft kiss on the lips. Cas smiles into the kiss, puts his hand over Dean’s, kissing him back. They pull back smiling at each other, until Cas turns his head and letting out a yawn. Dean laughs and ruffles his hair, then gets comfy, “C’mon, it’s still early, let’s go back to sleep.” Cas turns his head fast to look at Dean with a glare, “Now you want to go back to bed? What was the purpose of waking me up if you’re going back to sleep?” Dean winks at Cas then pulls him into his arms, “I just wanted to hear your voice. It’s comforting.” Cas closes his eyes and lets out a smile, “Fine, you win this round Winchester.”
As Dean and Cas fall back asleep, Sam who was in the other bed facing away from them sighed, “I really need to start getting my own room. They have their lovey dovey moments every. damn. morning.” |
6f67262c134b4fda9daea3adf7ff4dfb | ['6cfa709c38c5416f8415329098f101e5'] | He wanted to keen, whimper, cry out, anything, but he couldn't, with that head down his throat, his airway was blocked, unable to either draw in breath or make any sound of protest or distress. Of course, he knew better than to call the king on his threat; after all of this, he was utterly sure that wasn't a bluff at all. Varian was long past bluffing, if he'd ever planned to in the first place. Wrathion actually doubted that. It still left the question of _why_ , but he couldn't even focus past the stretching pain now to figure out what it was. Simply, he obeyed the command, lifting his body up, shifting and bringing his torso in line to his head, straightening his throat to offer a clear shot. At this, his eyes squinched shut in anticipation. At least, now, his head wasn't pinned, so he would at least have some give when the next thrust came.
There was little time to wait for it, though, the only warning he got was the second hand coming up to knot in his hair as well. He didn't get a chance to think about why because the warrior bucked forward, putting all the strength of his hips into the motion, using his hands to wrench the whelp closer to him at the same time. That pain rippled down Wrathion's throat, his body jerking and twitching, trying to escape the rough thrust. He had nowhere to go, though, and a sudden clash of extra pain was given as his nose smacked into the hard plate on the king's abdomen. Both eyes twisted closed, then, more tears breaking free of them, something he would never be able to fight back. Such a sign of weakness, but one even his training couldn't stop. It hurt! And it was taking up so much of his throat, it felt like it was filling him entirely. While the head hadn't made him gag, this penetration did, the muscles of his throat clenching and rippling upwards.
The sound that came from the king then was one that Wrathion would both never forget nor be able to describe. All he knew is it wasn't a human sound, it was something like he'd never heard before. His hands clawed against the king's hips, the gag actually causing a deeper ache to take him. More tears sprung from him, then, to the point that now at least one was trailing down his face at a time. A low sound came from the king, then, one that truly disgusted him to the core. It was a _coo_ , a tender little piece of praise tinged with lust, "Mmm, yes. I knew you could do it, black. That isn't so bad, is it?" Oh how he wanted to glare, but those smoking eyes wouldn't open, clenched shut with both pain and emotion. Even still, he kept up the clawing, desperately attempting to distract himself from the violation.
It wasn't long after that Wrathion found himself gagging again, desperately trying to give a whine of pain, distress, even that little grunting that whelps did when upset. None of them were possible, though, with what felt like his entire throat bulged out with that massive member. His airway was completely cut off, the opening he'd breathe through stuffed airtight. Thankfully he'd had that presence of mind to gasp air first! Whatever little part of his mind that hadn't checked out in fear, pain, disgust, and shame mulled over what this might be like if his lungs had been empty when he was plugged.
Rough sounds of pleasure came from Varian, louder ones when he felt that rippling muscle of choking. Curiously, though, they were now completely human noises, that odd inhuman one out of place amongst them. What had it been? Honestly, whatever it was, the whelp wanted it back. Ripples of disgust were flowing through him, as those human sounds were so similar to those of his lover, just deeper, louder. The last thing he'd needed right now was the reminder of exactly _who_ was hilted in his throat.
At that point, though, small movements began, little forward bucks that pressed the plate more roughly against his nose and achieved the slightest bit more depth. Each little thrust, despite being tiny, triggered Wrathion's gag reflex again, the tightening so painful for him, and at the same time so pleasurable for the king. At this point, the clawing and scrabbling had ceased, and gloved fingertips had just hooked around the edges of Varian's armor. They clutched tightly, the dark knuckles beneath them paling as the skin tightened over bone. Helpless attempts were made to push the warrior away, of course, but he had no hope of that. He was completely helpless to the king's 'mercy' which seemed to have vanished entirely.
To think, that mercy had been, in the end, what disgraced him, lost him his base of power, his champions, left him hunted... And here he was being shown none, all because he'd fallen in love with and bedded the king's son? His wispy train of thought was broken, then, when those hands curled his hair tighter, the gauntlet pulling more of those coarse strands out. Of course, that sudden hair pulling had nothing on what happened next. He felt the bulge of the warrior's crown pulling roughly back up his throat, that length very nearly popping free to allow him a breath. Sweet relief was stolen from him with more stretching pain, though, another rough too-fast thrust down into him, hilting that massive member once more. | bbee66eff6cb48e39365c8cfdedd2c87 | ['6cfa709c38c5416f8415329098f101e5'] | Seemed his time of relative rest was over, though, as there was no pause once he hilted, once more bumping his nose painfully into the plate. There was no break as Varian pulled away again, and just as much of a rest as he thrust back in, grunting. At this point, all the whelp could do was hang on for the 'ride'. Tears were spilling from his eyes constantly, now, and he'd lost track of the number of times he'd gagged. Thankfully, nothing was coming up; another little draconic feature was how he processed food.
That rough thrusting continued, but Wrathion was starting to tire and cramp up from the accessible position he was forcing his body into. He fought the urge to shift more comfortably, but he knew any movement would shift his throat so it curved, instead of being straight. The ache in his limbs would be nothing on the pain those rough thrusts would cause if that head struck resistance. Air... He wasn't getting any air, and he was starting to feel that in the tiredness of his limbs, and a thrum through his brain.
He was suddenly distracted from that need for air by a particularly rough and deep thrust. It wasn't the thrust itself that was the problem, though, it was the sudden crunch and explosion of pain that came from above his mouth. White spackles took over his vision, then, and a hard attempt to pull away caused more of his hair to be pulled out. His mind was reeling too much to figure out what happened, at first, before the metallic taste of blood started to fill his mouth, more with each rough thrust. Then, he realized; that thrust had been so rough that his nose had been slammed into the King's plate hard enough to break it. That blood was _his_!
A flew clenches of his soft palate were given as he tried to make the soft, upset grunt noise that he did so rarely, drawing a rough groan from the King above him, but earning him nothing. He was still plugged, unable to breathe, which was starting to get dire. The spackles in his eyes that had come from the pain in his nose weren't fading, though they were darkening to black, little dark fireflies crossing the other parts of his vision that were still working. All he could see was that plated abdomen moving forward and back, and the splash of blood on it where it had struck him. His ears rang with a high whine, and he could feel his limbs weakening, numbing up, his heartbeat becoming more pronounced. There was a dull thrum in his mind, each pulse of it wiping out more and more of his ability to think. No! He could not pass out for a third time in less than an hour!
Gloved hands scrambled at Varian's plated hips, clawing and smacking at him, trying desperately to get through the haze of pleasure the warrior was feeling as he thrust within the black's throat. It took some time, precious time that had Wrathion feeling more and more dazed. No... Not like this... Please not like this... Suddenly, that thrusting stopped, the king hilted fully in his throat once more. It was hard to hear the words through the ringing in his ears, harder to comprehend them with his sluggish mind, but he understood after a few moments of working on it, "Mmmm, I suppose I shouldn't choke you out now, should I? Enjoyable as it would be to do it, I think I'd rather keep you alive."
That length slowly pulled back out of his mouth, lungs burning, feeling swollen in his chest, heart beating wildly, trying to push precious oxygen he didn't have to his body. Then, finally, that plug popped free of his throat, and he immediately gasped inwards. Air! Precious air! With his mouth still wrapped around park of the king's length, he tried to suck in wildly through his nose, only to cry out in pain when it disturbed the broken thing. All he could do was open his mouth as wide as possible, straining his jaw to pull air in around that massive member in his mouth. It wasn't anywhere near as much air as he wanted, but he could soon feel himself perking back up, the symptoms of deprivation fading as he did. Too busy breathing in, he didn't give the whines and whimpers he'd been unable to for the past minutes.
As his senses came back to normal, he started to notice more things; the pain in his nose was legendary, and the edges of the blood draining from it had gone tacky. There was a steady stream coming from the middle of it, and he could feel it drooling down his upper lip and right onto the King's length. That explained how the blood had gotten in his mouth... But there was another taste there, one more salty than metallic, and he slowly realized there was precum dripping sporadically onto his tongue. Oh... Thank the Light! This was almost over!
Even with that thought, though, he knew he was far from freedom, with the stamina that had already been displayed here. Still, he sucked in as much breath as he could, even though he'd already felt the symptoms of deprivation go down. "Enough," came the grunt from above him, and he was actually surprised he got the warning. Not surprised enough to pause, he did manage to suck in another lungful of air, feeling his lungs burn and twinge from how full he forced them. And then he was plugged again, that thick length ramming back down his throat with unnecessary force. Once more he was choking around it, gagging a bit, though the abuse he'd suffered so far had stretched him and dimmed his gag reflex, so he was doing it much less than before. |
b97a542c79cf444986966c1854c0ca34 | ['6d3c4cdc252c45b29aec20f1335347eb'] | “No, nope, nuh-uh. No way we’re spending the day hanging around with some little kid.” Was what the members of Dethklok said five minutes before meeting Pickles’ nephew David. Five minutes after meeting him, the band was dead set on giving the kid the best, most metal post-birthday a boy could ask for. The six stormed arcades, ice cream parlors, even a petting zoo (partly with the logic that Australian petting zoos are more brutal because everything in Australia can kill you, partly with insistence from Toki.) One by one, the band’s uncaring brutal facades began to crack under the innocent wonder of a small child.
Nathan spent a good portion of the day with David perched on his shoulders, the two intently discussing the brutality of various dinosaurs.
Skwisgaar ate up the enraptured way the boy watched him play, which led to the guitarist pulling out increasingly more complicated techniques to keep his attention.
Murderface and Toki delighted in crafting elaborate and violent stories for the monster finger puppets and tiny parachuters David had won at the arcade.
By the time they were on the Dethcopter heading for Seth’s place, the band was seriously discussing the merits of adopting/kidnapping/buying him from his parents, before they realized there was actual work involved in having the kid around and promptly gave up on that idea. David left the chopper with his uncle to a chorus of suspiciously un-brutal sounding goodbyes. Just before reaching the front door, the little boy abruptly turned and threw his arms around Pickles’ waist.
“Thanks Uncle Pickles.”
“No problem buddy,” Pickles replied, awkwardly returning the hug as best as he could.
“Can you come visit again?”
He knew he should say no. Seeing David again meant dealing with Seth, and Pickles didn’t know if he could deal with seeing that greedy douche’s face on a regular basis. But with those big eyes staring up at him from that sweet freckled face…
“Of course, any time kiddo.”
Seth opened the door to let his son in, immediately questioning him on what kinds of things he’d managed to make his uncle pay for. Just before the door closed, David looked back at Pickles with a smile and held up his hand in the classic devil horns.
Yeah. Pickles could deal with Seth for this kid.
**Author's Note:**
> I don't always write fanfic, but when I do it... um... I don't know how to end that.
>
> There's basically no Pickles and his nephew content, so I decided to give the fandom what it probably didn't need but has anyway now. The story basically just came to me as a series of scenes and eventually I just decided to write those scenes, string them together, and say screw the rest. | 9a2dd5f649bf47359295135dac959639 | ['6d3c4cdc252c45b29aec20f1335347eb'] | Pickles was baking in the Australian heat, his only source of respite his cup of what used to be fruit punch, now replaced completely with whiskey from his hip flask. His father glares at him from across the yard every time he pulls it out, but Pickles is beyond caring at this point. He supposed he was lucky to have avoided his mom for as long as he did, but she had him cornered and was on her usual lecture of how Seth was so responsible and such a good father and what was Pickles doing with his life, still playing around with that band of his. In the background, Amber chatted with other equally disinterested looking moms, a handful of rowdy kids wrestled in the dirt while their dads, the greasy lowlife types that always seemed to flock around Pickle’s brother, made shady deals amongst themselves. Sitting at the table piled with presents and a plain looking blue and white sheet cake was little David, playing a handheld video game, having long given up on trying to play with the other kids. Pickles felt bad that he had initially assumed the kid was in on Seth’s manipulative bullshit. He had thought his nephew would be a little hellspawn, like his brother had been as a child. Instead Pickles only saw a lonely little boy, trying to enjoy a crappy birthday party. Pickles felt like he was being suffocated under all this heat and judgment, but he had decided when he saw David that he wouldn’t let his family get to him, even as they weighed him down with their usual complaints. He was surprised when his relief came from Seth.
“Alright, time for presents!”
As David unwrapped generic sports equipment and t-shirts for year old movies, Pickles started to feel better about his presence at the party. At least he had gotten a good present for the kid. At least they couldn’t give him shit about that. Pickles felt himself stand a little taller as Seth pulled out his present.
“This one’s from your Uncle Pickles. Should be a good one, he’s really rich,” Seth said, directed completely at Pickles. David unwrapped his toy and Pickles swore he saw a sparkle in the boy’s eyes for the first time that afternoon. His growing pride was soon squashed by a mutter from his brother.
“Guy’s got all the money in the fuckin’ world and only gets the kid one present.”
Of course.
“I can’t believe you, Pickles,” his mother said from behind him.
Of. Fucking. Course.
“You don’t visit your nephew even once since he was born, and now you think you can just buy your way into his life with some expensive toy?” Molly had wormed her way in front of Pickles, “You make me sick.”
That was it. He couldn’t take this anymore.
“God, there’s nothing I can do right for you people, is there?”
It was then that the birthday boy burst into tears and ran into the house, leaving his brand new robot dinosaur half-opened on the table.
“Look what you’ve done now, Pickles!”
\---
Pickles had stomped into Seth's kitchen in search of more booze, but instead he stumbled on his nephew curled into a tiny sniffling ball under the table. He kneeled down to the boy’s level and tried to speak as gently as possible.
“Hey, buddy. You doin’ ok?”
David minutely shook his head. Dumb question.
“Mind if I sit next to you?”
The boy shrugged. Pickles squashed himself into the little space, for once thankful for his short stature. He had no idea what to do now. He didn’t even know how to comfort a grown adult, much less a little kid.
“Hey, um. I’m sorry if you didn’t like your present. I can, uh, buy you something else if that helps?”
“No, I like it.” David’s voice was small and quiet. Pickles realized that this was the first time he had actually talked to his nephew, beyond the awkward greeting they’d shared earlier that day.
“So, uh, something else up then?”
The little boy was silent for a moment.
“The party was so boring. Daddy didn’t invite my friends, just those mean kids from my class and their weird dads. And then everybody started yelling and-“ He whimpered and curled in on himself tighter. Pickles took a chance and put a hand on the boy’s back, rubbing gently.
“Yeah. Doesn’t sound like a very fun birthday. I’m sorry.”
“I thought it would be fun with you here.”
Pickles was taken aback by that. He had assumed that Seth had been lying about David wanting him there.
“You really wanted me to come?”
The boy looked up at Pickles with watery eyes, his expression serious as a five year old’s could be.
“You’re so cool! You’re a rock star and you’re my uncle! But-but you don’t like me…”
“No, no, no!” Pickles interjected quickly. God, he was the worst uncle in the world. “I do like you! It’s just… Our family… They aren’t the nicest people to be around. But you’re not like that.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, you’re cool. Rock stars can always tell when somebody’s cool.”
Pickles saw that little bit of sparkle return to his nephew’s eyes. He wondered if there was a way he could keep it there.
“Hey, I got an idea. Tomorrow, would you wanna spend the day hanging around with your Uncle Pickles and his band?”
\--- |
1b241324be0f493dbda70736a4dbafa5 | ['6d62295a139348bd8051227492b5ecc0'] |
Dog Day Afternoon
**Author's Note:**
> Originally written for a prompt on yaoi_challenge on LiveJournal. (The prompt was to show Ein watching Jet and Spike have sex and their reactions to that.)
It had been a long day, which wasn't over yet, and the cooling system on the Bebop was acting up again. Jet stripped down to his shorts and undershirt and threw himself down on the couch. A shower would help, but he was too lazy to take one right now. He was just beginning to close his eyes for a nap when Spike came in the room. "Yo, Jet!" he said.
"Spike..." Jet muttered. "I'm trying to sleep."
Spike knelt by the couch. "It's too early to sleep."
"You have a better idea?"
He put on a hand on Jet's chest and began moving it downward. Jet tried to pretend to be uninterested but even as tired as he was, he couldn't quite manage that.
"It's hot as hell, Spike," he said.
"When it is ever not hot here," asked Spike, his hand getting close to Jet's waistband.
Jet sighed. He could say "no," but Spike had a point. There was no use waiting for the Bebop to get any cooler. They didn't have money to buy parts to repair the system. He sat up.
"Not in here. Faye and Ed will be back any minute now," he said.
"And you were going to treat them to the sight of you lying around in your underwear?" asked Spike.
Jet was already on his feet, headed for the bedrooms. "Are you going to sit there being a smart-ass or are you going to come to my room with me?"
When they got inside and shut the door, Jet had a sudden burst of energy, grabbing Spike and kissing him deeply. He ran his hands over Spike's back, feeling the taut muscles under the cloth of his shirt. The sensations in the metal hand were dulled, but neither he nor Spike ever mentioned that. There was something about the familiarity of his body that felt good to Jet. Even if Spike was moody and undependable, Jet still had moments like this where he could touch him.
Spike shrugged out of his shirt and pants, and they pressed against each other, beginning to sweat in the heat. Spike ran his hands down Jet's back and pulled his partner against him. Jet could feel Spike hard against him now, and he needed more. He pushed Spike toward the bed. Spike laughed, took the rest of his clothes off, and lay down on his stomach.
Jet ran his hands over Spike's body to help him relax, and then reached for the bottle of lubricant. He used it liberally on Spike, then tore his shorts and shirt off and applied lube to his own erect cock. Lowering himself, supported partly on his hands, he began to press slowly into his partner. The feeling was intense, just like always, and he closed his eyes. He bent down and licked Spike's back, tasting salt and smoke.
"Jet," said Spike.
It didn't sound like Spike was moaning his name in the throes of passion. Jet reluctantly stopped his motion.
"Am I hurting you or something?"
"No," replied Spike. "Keep going..."
Jet gradually entered Spike fully and began to move. Jet didn't usually think Spike started conversations at inopportune times, but he was unpredictable above all.
"The thing is, Ein's in here," Spike finally said in a deadpan voice.
Jet looked over at his desk. Sure enough, Ein was curled up underneath it, looking at them. Jet began to slowly rock his hips, hoping to give Spike something to think about besides the presence of the dog.
"He's just a dog, Spike," he said as his own excitement built.
"Yeah, but he's a data dog," said Spike, panting slightly.
Jet was thrusting harder now, barely listening, only caring whether Spike wanted him to continue. "Who cares," he said, struggling to speak.
"Well, what if he understands what we're doing?"
"I don't think they gave him that kind of data, Spike."
Jet slowed down a little as Spike kept talking. "You never know, he's supposed to be really smart."
"Then he's getting a free show. But he'd probably rather be watching dogs," said Jet, beginning to move faster, about to come. He looked at Ein, who looked back at him and blinked his eyes in a lazy way.
Spike tried to look at Jet over his shoulder. "That's sick, Jet," he said.
Jet couldn't reply. His concentration was briefly hazy as his climax approached, and he wasn't thinking of Ein's possible intelligence at all when he spilled himself inside Spike.
He withdrew and Spike turned over onto his back, his cock still erect. Without a word, Jet crouched and took Spike's erection into his mouth.
"Do you think somebody could somehow... get images from Ein's brain onto a computer?"
Jet stopped what he was doing. "How the hell should I know?" As he began to lick Spike's cock, Spike spoke again.
"Well, he must be a data dog for a reason... maybe there's a way to see what he sees all day."
Jet stroked Spike's sac, hoping to make him lose this train of thought.
"Can you imagine if Faye got pictures of this," Spike asked him.
Jet had to stop again. "You know, a lesser man would lose confidence in his ability to give a blowjob at this point."
"Sorry, Jet," muttered Spike. "Keep going?"
Spike didn't speak again, except to moan when Jet started sucking at him. Jet took him further into his mouth and Spike arched his back and came.
Slowly they both sat up, side by side.
"So you don't think..."
"I don't think anyone's going to download pictures of you and me going at it from that dog's brain. Stupid thing has never done anything but bark anyway."
"What if Ed can understand what he says?" persisted Spike.
"Even Ed isn't that weird. Besides, we'd have to do something a lot more interesting than sex to get him to tell people."
Spike nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But he'd better keep his mouth shut."
At that point Ein gave two loud barks, and Jet and Spike both gave him a sudden, sidelong look.
"What if--" began Spike.
"It's a coincidence, Spike. Get dressed and let's go somewhere Ein isn't."
But after Jet put clothes on, he turned to the dog and put a finger to his lips.
"You don't tell, I serve beef tonight."
Ein only yawned, but Jet felt secure. | f5aa5855ebe048f09312d1e7e03b8da9 | ['6d62295a139348bd8051227492b5ecc0'] | Dispensations
Walter sighed and stared out over the field of new recruits.
"They don't know what they're doing," said Seras sadly.
"Hellsing will never be what it used to be. As I was telling Sir Integra, there's everything out there. Catholics, Atheists--"
"Walter!"
"What?" he asked.
"I'm saying they're going to fall apart if faced with the evil dead and you're blathering on about their religion. What difference does that make?" Seras Victoria looked outraged.
Walter raised his eyebrows. "I'd say it makes a difference. I didn't call myself a Royal Protestant Knight for fifty years for no reason."
"Look at me, Walter."
He faced her.
"Look into my eyes, and tell me what color they are," she said.
"Red," he replied evenly.
"And why are they red?"
"Because you're a vampire," he said. "What on earth..."
"Which means I am dead."
He tilted his head slightly to the side.
"If you want to put it that way," he said a bit uncertainly.
"So it's all right if I serve Hellsing if I'm dead, and don't breathe, and drink blood, as long as I'm a Protestant?"
"Are you saying you aren't one?"
"You are making me so angry!" she shouted at him. "If someone saves your life it doesn't matter what religion they are!"
Walter remained silent for a moment.
"I suppose it doesn't." He flashed a grin. "Though the last Catholic you met up with handed you your master's head."
She stood belligerently with her hands on her hips. "So if they do it to us it's all right if--"
Walter held up his hand. "I didn't say that."
"Do you really think God cares who's Catholic and who's Protestant?" she went on.
"Well I think He cares at least a little, or I would hardly bother being one or the other," said Walter.
Seras dropped her hands. "But do you think everyone else is going to hell?"
"No, not really. In fact I rather hope they don't, believe it or not."
She was still glaring a bit. "But you lot will have a special section of heaven all your own, that's much better, where do you don't have to mix with the rabble?"
"Even to me that sounds boring. I'm certain I hope I end up in the same place as you do, after however many thousands of years... whatever religion you may be."
"What makes you think vampires get into heaven at all?" she asked.
"I shall ask God for special permission if they don't. Because I plan to spend eternity being yelled at by beautiful women. It's a situation I've grown used to. Good day, Miss Victoria."
He winked at her and strode off, with her murmuring angry objections through laughter. |
d353fd65f1ce4a75af804d16d482226a | ['6d9ee3159cf54873b1e02e64894f836e'] | Humming lightly, Hanbin lets his mouth fall wide open and drags it down the length of it, feeling his upper lip curl outwards as it catches along the ridges and veins, before he takes a brief detour and nips at the sensitive skin of Bobby's inner thigh. Smirking when he hears Bobby's pained gasp, Hanbin gently kisses the same spot before he flattens his tongue and licks his way back up Bobby's cock to draw it back into his mouth.
Deciding he's in a shameless sort of mood tonight, Hanbin digs his fingers into Bobby’s thigh to get his attention before he purposely widens his eyes and glances up at the older boy through his lashes. Then, blinking slowly up at him, Hanbin takes the briefest moment to just barely scrape his teeth across the top of Bobby’s cock before he hollows his cheeks and lets out the most obscene moan he can manage.
To his delight, this makes Bobby, whose face is already flushed and glistening in sweat, look utterly destroyed.
“Your lips,” Bobby bites out like a curse, hand reaching out to thumb at the edge of Hanbin’s mouth where it’s wrapped around his cock. “Learned about all these goddamn sins as a kid and not once did they ever mention you and your_ fucking lips_.”
He pushes his thumb into Hanbin’s mouth and hooks it around his lips, pressing it against the inside of his cheek and tugging until Hanbin feels the edge of his lips start to sting as his mouth is stretched open widely to the side.
The move also causes a mixture of saliva and precut to slip out of the corner of his mouth and Hanbin shivers as it begins dripping down his jaw and along Bobby’s thumb; the amount only increasing and starting to pool under his chin after he starts bobbing his head up and down Bobby’s cock again.
Jerking his hand around what he doesn’t fit this time into his mouth, Hanbin listens as Bobby’s breathing grows louder and more uneven until he's suddenly letting out a shout and coming, hips jumping and cock pulsing against Hanbin's tongue.
Afterwards, Bobby practically melts into the couch, slumping over blissfully as Hanbin pulls off his cock and swallows before wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.
He's starting to gently stretch out his neck and getting a bit distracted by the dull ache in his face as he rotates his jaw in small circles when Bobby nudges his foot against his knee and ends up pulling him out of his daze.
"What?" Hanbin asks and then blushes when his voice fades out into a rasp.
Bobby doesn't say anything and instead reaches down to caress the side of his face with a small smile.
Hanbin feels an onslaught of butterflies ripple through his stomach at the sweet gesture and swallows around the sudden lump in his throat as he blinks up at Bobby.
But then he immediately remembers he's still hard and apparently not even a soft, tender moment is enough to make him forget about that.
"Hyung," he murmurs and nuzzles his face into Bobby's hand as he reaches down to palm himself pointedly through his boxers.
Bobby's gaze slides down his body and he lets out a laugh when he sees what Hanbin's doing.
"Awww poor baby," he coos and then gives Hanbin's cheek a little pinch. "Just gimme like ten minutes to recover and then we'll do whatever you want."
"_Bobby_," Hanbin says incredulously and Bobby grins cheerfully down at him.
"Okay, fine. Five minutes because I love you so much."
Hanbin lets out a snarl and shoves Bobby's hand away from his face as he jumps to his feet.
"How about you've got thirty seconds to touch my dick before I kick you out, get myself off, and then finish the song I would've had finalized an hour ago if you and your horny ass hadn't shown up."
Hanbin huffs out a breath and then turns to smile sweetly at Bobby, "How's that sound, babe?"
Bobby stares at him for a moment, still slumped on the couch, and then shrugs, looking completely unaffected by Hanbin's little outburst.
Hanbin scowls.
Bobby grins at that and moves to sit up straighter on the couch, arm stretching out towards Hanbin.
"Come here," he says and Hanbin narrows his eyes skeptically before taking the tiniest step forward.
Bobby makes grabby hands at him, "Closer."
Hanbin's mid eye-roll when Bobby abruptly reaches out and takes hold of his hand to tug him down into the seat next to him.
Stumbling forward, Hanbin falls onto the couch and has half a second to orient himself in the new position before Bobby's leaning over to boop him on the nose.
"You're so cute when you're all hot and bothered, do you know that?" Bobby teases and Hanbin goes cross-eyed trying to look at Bobby's finger on his nose.
He refocuses on Bobby's face after a moment and gives him his most unimpressed look, "Hyung, I wasn't kidding. You've got about five seconds to touch me before I'm throwing you out of my studio so I can jer—“
Bobby cuts him off with a sloppy kiss and Hanbin's about to push him off just to be a brat when there's suddenly a hand pushing past the waistband of his boxers and wrapping around his dick.
Letting out a moan, he thrusts into the hold eagerly, but just as quickly as it appeared, it's gone as Bobby pulls his hand back with a snicker at Hanbin's immediate protesting. | 31a4d6e9a9c14a1087e1558461227ef5 | ['6d9ee3159cf54873b1e02e64894f836e'] | “The hottest,” Hanbin deadpans. “You are by far the sexiest person to ever grace me with his presence. How did I end up so lucky? So blessed? So truly, sincerely, absol-“
Bobby cuts him off with a kiss which seems to be his latest thing to do when he thinks Hanbin's being too sarcastic and he wants to shut him up.
But, Hanbin also knows Bobby’s trying to distract him so he drops the hair subject and it would totally work if Hanbin wasn’t stubborn as hell. Because he is absolutely not going to drop it.
Which is why as he pulls away just enough to trail his lips over to Bobby’s ear, he tells himself he’s pulling out the big guns simply for the good of the group, the fans, and any possible future hair product CFs.
"You know maybe you being bald or having a buzz cut wouldn't actually be a bad thing," he whispers thoughtfully. "We'd probably get more rest."
Bobby pulls his head away to look at him, clearly confused, “What do you mean?"
"Oh well we both know how much I like pulling your hair when we fuck," Hanbin says bluntly and Bobby freezes above him. "And don’t think I haven’t noticed how much you like it when I pull it.”
To emphasize his point he tugs lightly at the shorter hairs at the nape of Bobby’s neck and smirks when Bobby shivers uncontrollably.
“But,” he continues. “If there's nothing for me to pull I probably won't want to fuck as much...so I bet we'd get more sleep. You get what I’m saying?"
The panicked expression that Bobby's features twist into is so comically horrified that Hanbin manages to keep a straight face for all of five seconds before his smile cracks through and gives him away.
“Your face,” he laughs, reaching out both hands to latch onto Bobby’s ears to pull him down until their foreheads are touching. “Man, I wish I got that on video.”
Hanbin’s still laughing even as Bobby growls, bites at his bottom lip, and grabs his hands to pin them to the couch armrest above his head.
While it’s not quite the outcome Hanbin expected from his words, he’s certainly not complaining when Bobby starts aggressively kissing him.
Plus, Hanbin decides it means Bobby knows he was definitely joking about his “having less sex” threat so he figures they’ll revisit the hair issue later and promptly puts it to the back of his mind.
Only to immediately forget all about that and every single other thing in his head when Bobby bodily flips him onto his stomach and starts grinding his re-hardening erection against his ass.
Half an hour, another orgasm, and one cum stained couch cushion later and for Hanbin, Bobby’s damaged hair is already a thing of the past never to be discussed again.
Except.
Except then, a few days later as they're getting ready for a magazine shoot, he sees Bobby with his freshly cut and re-dyed purple hair cradling half a dozen hair care products in his arms and listening with rapt attention to a stylist explain how to use them.
When he notices Hanbin watching him, he immediately blushes and starts trying to pretend like he’s not holding a big bottle of fancy color-safe shampoo and three types of deep conditioners.
There's a beat as they stare and blink at one another.
And then Hanbin, because he finds the entire situation just so _fucking funny_, starts laughing so hard he cries all his eye makeup off and has to get it redone.
And okay sure maybe a couple weeks later he also ends up stealing the barely used bottle of Bobby’s weird seaberry hair serum because he likes the smell of it.
But, that’s beside the point.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> bobby's pain kink: check ✔
hanbin's praise kink: coming soon to a chapter near you
>
> also sorry this is a lil late i got distracted by a baseball game earlier and forgot to do my final edit. chanwoo would be so proud of me.
>
> also also this won't be updated next week because i'm finally putting up the second chapter of lucky for its one year anniversary bc that just seems like the thing to do.
>
> love you all <3
**Author's Note:**
> my plan is to update this every weekend so look forward to that i guess?
>
> also thank you so much for reading i love you <3 |
331504721bbc4292b18d3e27830c4ce9 | ['6e02456e9a5240c5a08334d3bf9f87b8'] | And then from behind the bushes, a large man jumped out, howling wildly of death and agony and harm and hurtled towards her and the knife was still warm and wet in her hands and he was reaching out to grab her and so she raised it and drove it hard into his fat belly and she liked the guttural cry he let out and so she drew it out and stuck it in again and again and strong hands were holding onto her and wresting the knife from her hands and then there was a sharp pain in her neck and everything tasted sweet while the world spun away.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> oh yeah. yana is natasha in case you hadn't figured out. i had an idea that when girls come to the red room, every human part of them is already being stripped away, and so they may as well receive a new name. having a name is having an identity. without that, one doesn't feel altogether real. and with a new name, one might feel completely different. so therefore headcanon.
2. the calm before a---
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> oh yeah. yana is natasha in case you hadn't figured out. i had an idea that when girls come to the red room, every human part of them is already being stripped away, and so they may as well receive a new name. having a name is having an identity. without that, one doesn't feel altogether real. and with a new name, one might feel completely different. so therefore headcanon.
Yana awoke to the sound of low voices around the kitchen. The room was dim. She was wrapped in a quilt. Her hair was damp. She smelt of soap. She lifted up her hands and looked at them. “Murderer,” she whispered to herself, setting her teeth so she wouldn’t cry.
“I’m telling you no!” said a loud voice. It was Valentin.
“You have no choice.” Yana’s heart beat fast. She knew they were talking about what to do with her. They probably wouldn't want her, neither mama and papa or the man and the woman. She shivered.
“I do, for she is my daughter. and she does not belong to you or your government. She is ours and she belongs on this farm. With us. It is her home. Who knows what she will become under your hands?”
“She will be capable, deadly, skilled. Everything an agent or spy or assassin needs to be.” The man sounded tired and frustrated.
“But I would much rather that she be kind, generous, good. _Happy _. She will not be happy with you.”__
__Inga’s soft tones gave Yana peace. She stood up and padded to the kitchen._ _
__“Mama,” she said._ _
__“Yana. Come here, love.” Her mother picked her up and held her closely. “Yana, we have a question for you.”_ _
__“What is it, mama?”_ _
__“These people wish to train you to be a spy and an--an assassin.”_ _
__“What’s that?”_ _
__“A person who gets hired to...to do jobs for other people. Hard jobs. Anyways, they want to take you to a place with lots of other girls who are all training to be the same thing. If you succeed, the government takes care of you and you get lots of money and it would be much more exciting than life on this old farm.”_ _
__“I don’t want to. I want to stay here. Here is home.”_ _
__“I know, love.” She pressed Inga’s head tight against her chest. “Do you see?” she said quietly to the man and the woman._ _
__They sighed. “We don’t have time for pity,” said the woman. “This is our job. We have to bring back the best. She’s the best.”_ _
__“You can create other children, you know,” said the man impatiently. “She’s not that special.”_ _
__“Then why do you want her so badly?” Valentin snapped. “This is something we have feared happening to us since we were young, and now it is real and happening to our _daughter _? It’s worse than anything we were ever afraid of. It’s 1,000 times worse. She’s already going to be disturbed up from what you put her through today. Am I going to allow her to experience this trauma for the rest of her life? No. She is my daughter. I would die before I allowed you to take her away.”___ _
____“Alright,” said the woman. “We don’t like to forcibly remove children from their parents. It’s bad form. We shall not take her.”_ _ _ _
____“But remember,” said the man, standing up, “if anything happens to the both of you, the government becomes her guardian, and then you will have no say over what shall be done with her.”_ _ _ _
____“Nothing shall happen,” said Inga, the words so deep in her throat they were almost a growl. “Nothing shall happen.” It was a promise, bathed in fear and hope both._ _ _ _
____“You’ll need to go into town and send this document signed to the address on the envelope in order for us to legally leave her behind,” said the man, handing a paper-wrapped package to Valentin._ _ _ _
____“Good day, Vasileks,” said the woman. She reached over to pat Yana’s head, but Yana sat up, looking the woman square in the face. She reached out her hand and shook the woman’s, staring into her eyes._ _ _ _
____“Good day,” said Yana quietly, seeming a thousand years older than almost-five, for her eyes appeared ancient and soulless._ _ _ _ | 08a34a811a6b4f49947186c933cdd6e4 | ['6e02456e9a5240c5a08334d3bf9f87b8'] | She growls irritably, shaking her head. She can feel her bones shifting. She needs to stop thinking about the change, about how it’ll feel to run and run and run and kill and feast. She steps on the gas, goes as fast as she dares. There. The exit that leads to the the huge expanse of woods is there. She’s close. She feels a howl bubbling up her throat and curses herself for procrastinating to this point.
She pulls up to the clearing in the woods, strips her clothes off frantically, leaps out of the car. When she lands, she is all russet fur and snapping teeth and twisting, lithe muscles. The howl comes loose at last, and it shakes the leaves of the mighty trees, echoes back to her pricked, powerful ears. And she runs, feeling everything she’s been suppressing: anger and grief and fear and triumph and lust, and she runs.
When she comes upon a rabbit, she does not hesitate to pounce. The blood that flows from its ripped-open veins is as titillating to her senses as strong alcohol, and she tears into its flesh with abandon and fierce joy.
Eventually, the need to be wild and be wolf passes. She feels her mind return to her, broken piece after broken piece, and when she wakes up, she is shaking and naked next to her car. She is exhausted beyond anything, but the night is coming on fast, so she pushes herself to wrap a blanket around her shoulders and suck down a Monster (something dark inside laughs at the irony in it) til she feels strong enough to get dressed again.
She drives slowly, vigilant, fighting to keep her eyes open the whole way home.
At the door, she fumbles for her keys. All she can do is drop into her bed and lay there, let the night come and then the morning.
day 10
She lays in bed all day. She’s tired still, but her head is clear now. _You’ve been an absolute asshole_ , her logical mind tells her emotional mind. The barrier that stops her feelings from impacting her is weak from the change, and guilt washes over her like a flood. _Why would you treat anyone like you treated that man?_ she berates herself. Remorse tears at her in her sleep and when she is awake. Restlessly, she shifts around, kicking the sheets off then pulling them back on, rolling back and forth, flipping her pillow to find the coolest side.
_I’ll apologize_ , she says to herself in an effort to sate the shame, to plug the dam that threatens to drown her.
_No you won’t; you’re nothing but a coward; you won’t do anything---_
_I will I will I will I promise._
day 12
He is standing alone. Good. She steels herself and goes to him, posture far more confident than she actually is. “Hey, Steve.”
“Nat?”
“Yeah, hi.”
He’s obviously confused, scratches at his straw-gold hair, but he pulls himself out of his shock quickly. “We’ve never met officially.” He sticks his hand out, all huge muscles and gentlemanly manners.
Soberly, she takes his hand and shakes it.
“Um, could you maybe tell your friend Bucky that...that I’m sorry. For how I...was...when he talked to me. Or looked at me. I...yeah. That’s all.”
He stares at her, blue eyes gone squinty, forehead all wrinkled up. “Of course, yeah, I can do that,” he manages to call to her rapidly retreating back.
She exhales deeply, all the breath she’s been holding rushing out at once. She did it. She apologized. (By proxy, but still.) The guilt isn’t gnawing at her anymore. She doesn’t feel the need to totally exhaust herself to beat down the beast inside. She lets a smile slide across her face for a moment before swallowing it back down.
day 13
She’s hanging from the the ceiling like a spider, knees clenched around a rope, arms spread wide for a moment before gripping it tightly again. _The closer I get to the sky, the freer I feel_ , she thinks. She says it aloud, tastes the words, lets them roll around on her tongue before sliding down again. Stepping back, she bumps into someone. Her heart jumps into her throat; she whips around and is met with stormy gray eyes and messy hair.
“Bucky,” she breathes.
He lets the tension sit a moment, smiles his slow, sweet grin. “Hey.”
“Did...did Steve tell you...” It’s hard for her to speak, to find the right words.
He nods. “It’s alright. I forgive you.”
“Thanks. I get...snappy sometimes.” A nervous giggle jumps out of her when she thinks about the secret truth in that statement.
He chuckles a little, like he understands the joke. His eyes are kind. She hadn’t noticed that before.
“So, do you--”
“I’d still like to be left alone,” she whispers.
He nods once. “Well. I guess I’ll see you around. Bye, Nat.”
She half-waves, bites her tongue, does anything to avoid _feeling_ , to ignore what her body is begging her to do (run after him and say yes, I want to work out with you, yes, I’ll teach you yoga, yes) because she doesn’t understand why she’s so drawn to this skinny scraggly man.
day 14
Whenever he sees her, he smiles, like he’s happy about it or something.
15
Whenever she sees him, she almost smiles. (She can’t help it.)
day 16
When his eyes catch hers from across the room, she shivers. Heat coils in her gut, and she has to breathe carefully and drink all her water to calm down.
day 17
God, but she’s pitiful, she tells herself. She’s been waiting in her corner, anxious, leg bouncing non-stop since she left the note in his locker.
She hears his steps, inhales his scent long before arrives, but she won’t look his direction until he’s standing right in front of her. |
8cab831dcf0e4d76a90c6183abf5f808 | ['6e1c5a9ce8de4a9caab96db456dae14c'] | 1. Little spider
When the god met the spider
He asked
‘little spider what is it you wish for’
and the spider told him
‘I wish for nothing that you could give me for I will die soon, I have do Everything I need I have built my Web and my children have grown’
The god was confused why did the spider have to die after all this time so he looked at the spider and he asked
‘little spider why must you die your time is not up yet you are only young’And so the spider told him he told him all that he could and the god could not believe what he heard he heard storys about webs so intricate it was like a dance to create and then when she had finished telling the god all that she knew she lay down her head and let her her mind be at peace, the god sat there for hours weeping for his fallen freeing and he realised form the stories she told there was more to life than what he'd been told and more than what the surface told
2. Monster in my house
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Tw : hints of abusive parental relationship
There's a monster in my house
He bangs about every night
He's very loud
He smells bad
Mommy tells me to hide
Hes scarry
He's big And tall
He came along one day
Shouted at mommy
I don't like him
He scares me
He's coming towards
My room now
I'm scared
I don't like him
Where did daddy go
The monster looks like daddy
And sounds like daddy
But doesn't smell like daddy
Daddy always smiled the
Monster just yells
Daddy promised he would
Never hurt me
So this monster can’t be daddy
**Author's Note:**
> © All stories belong to me please do not copy or recreate | 97cc7ccee1134e879e85ce608be995e6 | ['6e1c5a9ce8de4a9caab96db456dae14c'] | 1. Sonnet : summer days
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> 1 . that summer day (f/f)
> 2 . with me know (f/f)
> 3 . a thousand miles (f/f)
> 4 . sinking feeling (f/m), past violence, hints of non-con
We walked along the beach that day
the wind in your hair
your laugh like bells rang through the air
are feet in the water
as we laughed with the waves
On that summer day yes on that summer day
When we collected sea glass from the shore
And nothing could hold us back
yes on that summer day
As we shared are first kiss
The world seemed to stop as we climbed on the rock
As i looked in your eyes and i could see the world stop
yes on that summer day
2. with me know
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> 1 . that summer day (f/f)
> 2 . with me know (f/f)
> 3 . a thousand miles (f/f)
> 4 . sinking feeling (f/m), past violence, hints of non-con
We danced that day
across the kitchen floor
your hand in mine
and as if bye a prayer
your laughter started to fill
the air i can taste you
On my lips now
Can feel ghost hands
on my skin
I start to dance across the floor just like that day
Just like we all ways did
The steps in are head and the others name on are lips
3. a thousand miles
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> 1 . that summer day (f/f)
> 2 . with me know (f/f)
> 3 . a thousand miles (f/f)
> 4 . sinking feeling (f/m), past violence, hints of non-con
We may be a
thousand miles apart
but darling you are
always in my heart
and darling I envy
The morning sun
Who is the first
to great you
when you wake
And darling
I envy the stars
Who are the last to
see you before you rest
darling we're a
Thousand miles apart
But your all ways in my heart
4. sinking feeling
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> 1 . that summer day (f/f)
> 2 . with me know (f/f)
> 3 . a thousand miles (f/f)
> 4 . sinking feeling (f/m), past violence, hints of non-con
Pain in the water
Pain on the skin
Rub it away
Let the pain of yesterday
Flow away down the drain
Let your hands on my skin
wash away as you
Grab and pull away at me
But I'm not yours anymore
Still your ghost hands
drag me through ghost lands
i tell you to stop but i know i can't
your hands drag and pull me
too where you want
you make my skin feel wrong
as you pull down my top
you act like i'm yours
with you hand down my pants and
a squeeze to my breast
i want to scream stop
i want to fight and yell
i want it to stop
i feel it snake up my through
i cant breath no more
you make me stare in
your eyes
as your kiss burns through
my skin as you call me yours |
9070dc237d1745029acc728296b7d143 | ['6e1daf421df54dc5b9fb84bfe6756c81'] |
To Live and Love in the light of the Sun
**Author's Note:**
> the speaking line's that are in bold is to symbolize the fact that they are using Korean Sign Language(ksl)
> if any one has a better idea to do it i am open to suggestions :)
"Alright class, this weekend we will be taking a tour of Hwanseon Cave. Please take into account that your attendance on the tour is half your grade, including the paper on the types of formations in the cave and any theory on what events caused such a wide variety of formations to form in Hwanseon Cave." Their Geology professor told the class at the end of that weeks lesson as the student slowly filled out of the classroom.
His interpreter for the day finished signing to him the jist of what the professor had said.
“ **I have to go to a class, are you going to be ok**?” She said and signed to him.
_“_ **Its my last class today,thank you for helping.** _”_ he signed to her.
Sighing Jeongguk gathered his things together, forming the layout of the paper in the back of his mind.
On days he didn't feel like talking he resorted to using ksl, it just seemed easier.
_I think i will include when certain formations were estimated to have began forming. Hmm, i should text Jimin-ah and see if he wants to get some tteokbokki._
Sending Jimin the message he waited for the elders reply. Five minutes later he received the response, telling him to wait for him in front of the campus library. After a pew minutes had passed, a red faced and slightly panting Jimin walked up to him.
" **Why are you so red hyung? You ran all the way here from the apartment didn't you.** " he signed to jimin
_“_ **Nope. I was already in the middle of my evening run when i got that text you sent me, so i figured i might as well just run here** **.** ” Jimin signed to him
Jeongguk laughed, then grabbed Jimin by the arm and proceed to pull him in the direction of the food trucks that were nearly always present around campus.
_"_ **So how was your class today?** _"_ Jimin signed while trying not to drop the stick that had the tteokbokki on it. They were sitting at one of the far tables stationed around the food trucks. As out of the way as they could get, due to Jimin's tendency to accidentally spout random obscurities about people's future.
Like the time at the grocery store for instance; he told a man that he should grab two things of eggs since he would drop the first one as he was putting on the conveyor belt and then there was the woman who was in front of them at the check out, he told her that she should use cash because her card was going to be declined. The reason behind this is that Jimin was an oracle. He can only hear and speak prophecies. This being the reason he and his friends use ksl around him.
_" **It was good, the whole class is going on a mandatory field trip to Hwanseon Cave tomorrow and we have to write a paper on it as well.** " _Jungkook signed back
"Hwanseon Cave?” Jimin said, then signed,
_“_ **I've heard of it ,but i can't seem to remember where……** "
_"_ **Maybe from the news? They say it's supposedly the largest cave system they have yet to find to date. Its owned and ran by the Kim's, they have been around since the Joseon Dynasty. They were announcing that they were opening another small branch of the cave a week ago, that's why the class is going i think.** _"_ he signed quickly, not mentioning the fact that Jimin had said the name of the cave out loud.
_"_ **I guess i did, just promise me you will be careful, I get an unusual feeling from the name of that cave........** _"_ JImin signed in response
_"_ **Yeah i will be careful, ready to head back to the apartment?** _"_
_"_ **Yup, let's hurry back before Jin trys to ruin my stove again with one of his crazy experiments.** _"_
Arriving back at the apartment they were greeted by a thin veil of smoke hanging in the air from the numerous incense sticks burning in several different locations around the kitchen and living room. Jin had somehow managed to balance himself on the arm of the couch, and was scanning through one of his many three ringed binders of his notes. Hearing them come into the apartment he raised a hand in greeting. Closing and setting the binder on the coffee table he turned to them.
_ “ _ **I think i might have figured something out to help J** **imin stop the prophecies long enough for him to be able to sleep normally.** _ ” _ He signed to Jimin and Jungkook.
_“_ **Really? I hope it** **’s nothing gross tasting that I** **will have to eat.”** Jimin thought back to the last thing Jin-hyung had given him to slow the endless streaming of voices and images in his head and gagged at the memory of the slop that was definitely the vilest thing he had ever let Jin talk him into drinking.
_**“I promise that this one won't make you empty the contents of your stomach. But one of the ingredients has to be ordered from out of the country, so it might be awhile before its ready.** ” _ Jin signed to Jimin. | 2c9cda78e95b4a7589ba73c9c84b9e4b | ['6e1daf421df54dc5b9fb84bfe6756c81'] | Jungkook headed for his room to give the others some privacy and so he could take a moment to call the information office for Hwanseon cave, and ask if they had any interpreters on staff that he could have accompany him on the tour scheduled for the next day. When they finally take him off hold so they could look up the information on their ksl interpreters, they informed him that he would need to come in early in order to meet and strategize.
\----------
Sweat dripped from his forehead as he strained to keep the explosive sphere floating in front of him from hitting the floor. Glancing around the cavern at the others in his (I don't fucking know) concentrating on keeping their own spheres from falling to the ground. As he watched two of the others hold on their sphere slipped.
“Shit.” Taehyung muttered under his breath, bracing himself against the impending explosion that was unavoidable if they spheres they had been levitating, smashed to the ground. A deafening crash rolled through the cavern as Namjoon's sphere just barely kissed the ground, releasing the plumes of red smoke billowing out and surrounding Taehyung and the other five present including their instructor. As the smoke cleared Taehyung noticed that Namjoon was frantically patting at his now smoldering mop of light brown hair. Their instructor walked to the group as they gathered by the small pound to the side of the cave.
“Well done everyone. Namjoon, Yoongi, and Taehyung, i need to speak to you. Everyone else i will speak with you tomorrow, you are dismissed.” The four of them stood in silence till the last of the students had filtered out of the cavern.
“Well you three passed todays exam. Namjoon you still need to work on your endurance a bit, Yoongi your stance was a little too wide, thats why your grip was slipping towards the end of the exam. Taehyung your focus should have been on the sphere instead of your classmates and myself.“ Major General Son Songdeuk informed the trio of young moon elves. Taehyung stepped forward slightly from the other two, Songdeuk nodded in his direction, giving the young elf permission to speak.
“But Sir. Songdeuk, wouldn't it be a good thing to take notice of our surroundings during our exams in order to sharpen our observational skills while under any type of pressure?Also is it not your job as our instructor to make sure we excel, so that we can properly guard and protect our people and this cave system?”
Songdeuk chuckled “ Just as expected of a royal, you are once again a lesson ahead, but due to the fact that that wasn’t a part of this week’s lesson, and have once again moved ahead to the next lesson without permission or guidance. You and your friends here are hereby assigned to tour guide duty for the next two weeks. As well as completing two week’s worth of training assignments after your other duties.” Turning on his heel Songdeuk walked out of the cavern.
“But!!!??” Taehyung said to the quickly retreating glow of his instructors silhouette as he disappeared down the dark tunnel without another word to the trio. Sighing Taehyung, Yoongi and Namjoon left to head to their rooms for a much needed rest if they were to be able to function as proper tour guides in the morning.
The next morning Taehyung was going over the list of how many groups and classes would be filtering through a small part of the cave system, and found that one of the groups had called and asked if they had any ksl interpators on staff. He shrugged and went outside and was greeted with the sight of a rather disgruntled looking angel talking to Yoongi. He’s probably trying to get him to do his job properly for once. Which was nearly impossible, the only things Yoongi ever cared about was sleeping, and getting/keeping Namjoon’s attention. Though he isn’t normally as insistant as he is being today….. He must have a charge in one of the groups coming through today, and doesn’t want Yoongi to slack off. I wonder what poor soul got saddled with the angel this time. |
6034b0fe6a164bd0aed16f15ba00381d | ['6e61e212c8f04fd0838eae3dc6810bce'] | Operation: “Get Help”
**Author's Note:**
> Disclaimer: if you recognize it, it’s not mine. Rights go to DC Comics and to the MCU.
>
> If you want/need it, here’s a link to the specific scene that I’m referencing:
https://youtu.be/CpZakOJlRoY
“Rob!” Kid Flash whispered excitedly, “Rob, I have an idea.”
Robin and Kid Flash were both currently crouched down behind a dusty bookcase, trying to come up with a feasible plan of attack -- one that would actually work. So far, they hadn’t had any luck.
Robin turned to his companion curiously. “What?”
KF angled his body so that they were face-to-face. “Just hear me out…”
“Um....Okay?” Robin felt a twinge of uncertainty in his stomach -- a feeling that usually came right before his best friend announced a terrible idea.
KF’s entire body began to vibrate with excitement. His widened eyes met Robin’s suspicious gaze. “Let’s do ‘get help’.”
Robin blinked. “What?”
“‘Get help’!” Kid Flash’s face split into an enormous grin as he splayed his arms out in a way that added an unspoken ‘ta-da!’ to what he’d just said. Robin’s reaction was immediate.
“No.” His expression slackened, conveying his blunt displeasure with the idea.
“C’mon, you love it!” KF’s grin grew wider.
“I hate it.”
“It’s great -- it works every time!”
“It’s humiliating!”
KF dropped his grin to meet Robin’s unamused gaze seriously. He quirked an eyebrow. “Do you have a better plan?”
Robin faltered. “...No.”
“We’re doing it.” The eager determination in KF’s eyes was unmistakable.
In a last-ditch effort of rebuttal, Robin whipped out his fiercest bat-glare. “We are not doing ‘get help’.”
*20 seconds later*
M’gann and Artemis were sitting at the kitchen island, quietly chatting over a plate of warm, chocolate-chip cookies that sat between them.
They were interrupted, however, by the boisterous sound of somebody else stumbling through the kitchen entryway.
“GET HELP!”
The two girls looked up in alarm to see Wally half-dragging Robin, limp and lifeless, beside him.
“Robin!”
“What happened?!”
M’gann and Artemis maneuvered quickly around the counter before dashing across the room to the boys.
“Please, it’s Robin --” Wally cried desperately, “-- something’s wrong!”
As soon as the other two were within five feet, he flung Robin at them (though it was obvious that he’d aimed for Artemis) as hard as he could without actually hurting his best bro.
Artemis fell over backwards from the force and weight of the younger teen. Mgann rushed forward frantically. “Artemis! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Artemis brushed her off, “Help me with Robin!”
Before either of them could wonder what had happened to Wally, Robin’s eyes shot open.
“NOW!”
On cue, Wally snagged the plate of cookies with his super-speed.
“What --”
“Hey, give those back!”
Robin used the girls’ surprise as an opportunity to scramble off of them. He did so just in time for Wally to scoop him up with his free arm and run them both as quickly as possible away from the kitchen.
After a few moments of staring after them in stunned silence, Artemis threw her arms up in indignation.
“What the fuck was that?”
M’gann, equally confused, simply shrugged.
**Author's Note:**
> I know this fic turned out like shit, but if you want to let me know specifically what part you didn’t like or that I should fix, please write it in the comments! Thanks for indulging me lol T^T | ca2dee4c3d26420998185aca2b6c110e | ['6e61e212c8f04fd0838eae3dc6810bce'] | Nodding to himself, he rolled his shoulders and sucked in a deep breath, hyper-aware of Dick’s crumbling resolve. After cracking his knuckles for good measure (it was really just for suspense), he rotated his upper body to face his older brother and, before Dick could say a word, enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug.
It took Dick a couple of seconds to get over his shock. Once he did, however, he tentatively— _ gratefully _ — wrapped his arms as best he could around his brother’s midriff.
They remained like that for a good minute, for which Dick was grateful. Hed been worried about Jason’s reaction in particular—Jason, his first brother, the one he’d failed time and again, whose trust he’d maybe finally built up after years of constant hurt-driven arguments and not seeing eye-to-eye… (After all the hard work they’d put in together just to get to this point of understanding between them, he’d been terrified that this would be the straw that broke the camel's back.)
Jason had become one of his primary go-tos when it came to needing someone to hang out with, to team up with, and to vent Bruce-related frustrations with. Jason had become more than a brother; now Dick would absolutely call him a friend.
Despite wanting to bask in the rarity of this hug, he decided to take pity on Jason and pulled away, smiling. This time it was the younger who broke the silence between them. (After of course clearing his throat and squaring his shoulders in a half-assed attempt to appear as though that wasn’t totally an emotional bonding moment.)
“What’s his name?”
Dick’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before a startled laugh escaped his lips. “Seriously?” The immense relief and gratitude remained unspoken, but were heavily present in his tone of voice and in his now-glistening eyes.
“Big Bird,” Jason smirked, “I’m _ dead _ fucking serious.”
“You really want to know?” Dick raised a brow and gave him a look. “And I’m completely sidestepping that pun, by the way.”
“I mean, only if you’re cool with it,” Jason spoke truthfully, even if part of him was squirming with curiosity. “I won’t pressure you into anything, ‘specially not after the night you’ve had.”
The older of the two took a moment to appreciate the astounding acceptance his brother had demonstrated tonight. He inhaled deeply through his nose as he joined his brother in looking out over the city.
“The night _ I’ve _ had?” he teased, “Please; you chased an Olympic-level acrobat up a 25-story building in the dead of night, _ in Gotham _ .”
That earned a scoff from Jason. “I like the little self-promotion you threw in there.”
“Hey, I only state facts.”
“So _ you _ can ‘state facts’ but _ I’m _ not allowed to make Robin-level puns about my untimely death?”
Dick rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “If by ‘untimely death’ you’re referring to being kidnapped and brutally beaten for hours on end by a crazed, clown-lunatic who then locked you—a fourteen-year-old kid— in a tiny room with enough explosives to down an aircraft carrier? That one?”
“... Okay, I _ might _ see your point there,” he admitted while trying not to be impressed by Dick’s ability to simultaneously sound protective _ and _ smug (a combination that frequently (frustratingly) won him arguments with all of his brothers). “ _ But _ , that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop, so _ ha _ .”
“You’re an idiot.”
“You’re an asshole.”
A companionable silence settled over them, each grinning ear-to-ear like fools (like _ brothers _ ) as they sat beside one another. Then,
“What’ll you do if I tell you his name?”
“Carefully store that tidbit of info away. Then, in the event that your mystery man ever decides to break your heart—I will hunt him down Liam Neesan-style and chop both of his balls off.”
Dick blinked at his brother, momentarily stunned but, really, not at all surprised. “Liam Neesan… as in the movie ‘Taken’?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, okay— _ deal _ .” Dick couldn’t contain the uproarious laugh at Jason’s joking-and-ridiculous-but-also-deadly-serious threat to his boyfriend. “But for now, I’ll just tell Wally you said ‘hi’.”
“I mean it,” Jason looked him dead in the eye, “You say the word, and I will _ literally _ slice-n-dice that motherfucker’s speed-grapes.”
“Whatever you say, Jay,” he smiled, only slightly concerned for his red-headed, adorable boyfriend’s safety. “For his sake, I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
The ‘thank you’ went unsaid in the blustery Gotham night, and the subsequent ‘Anytime’ was returned in the form of a subtle nod and a shared, amiable ledge.
5. Wally (Chapter 2.5)
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Dick tells his best friend... and Wally surprises him.
>
> Hopefully this chapter will fill in some significant gaps in the storyline that I accidentally created with the last chapter... That being said, it’s definitely a filler :P
>
> (Also, I kinda rushed this, so I’m sorry about any grammar/spelling mistakes.)
Dick and Wally had agreed to meet at this diner in Central, a friendly establishment that they’d began frequenting in their early teenage years (it was far easier to hang out in the speedster’s hometown than in Gotham; less paparazzi to recognize Dick’s face and invade whatever they’d gone out to do).
Dick had ordered a cheeseburger and fries alongside a peanut butter milkshake. Wally had eaten three cheeseburgers, two orders of chicken fingers, four orders of fries, and three strawberry milkshakes.They had both finished their respective meals.
Dick couldn’t put it off any longer, and felt a pang of regret at the possibility that this would be his last non-awkward hangout with his longtime best friend.
He needed to do this. He owed Wally this much, at least. |
6cb754045e654e499fcd5ba7367f36b7 | ['6e7c1904c8b74c74b2e61d9ec59ab37d'] |
Flat Planet
### the flat planet cafe
Josh is a boy who Augur has helping out at the cafe in the afternoons, sweeping up and washing dishes. JStreet set it up, asked for the favor; she came in to the Flat Planet with a set of reasonably convincing papers saying this is her cousin, he's 15 years old, he's enrolled in the DC public school system, he has permission to work part-time. Convincing until you look at the kid, who is scrawny, pale, pre-pubescent. Josh has gray eyes and brown hair and never takes off a pair of black fingerless gloves.
With the Taelons gone, some of the kids -- the kids who were different before they went through an ID portal, babies born after their parents went to Companion fertility clinics, teenagers in the pipeline to join the Volunteers -- some of those kids have gotten turned out of their homes. Sometimes the CVI breaks down and causes erratic behavior. Sometimes they hit puberty and suddenly seem alien.
So Josh is not the first kid like this that Street has brought to him, although mostly they haven't worked out this well. Lili catches them stealing from the till, or they find something better, or they find something worse. They get sick.
Augur and Street, they've been there; they were angry teenage runaways once upon a time. They don't ask questions. They know they can't save them all but Josh is welcome to all the blueberry muffins and hot chocolate he can stand.
*
"What kind of a name is Augur, anyway?" asks Josh, really not quite tall enough for the push broom he's sliding across the floor. "Is it from another country?"
Augur used to delight at this question, had a whole reel of an answer out of a thesaurus. But he's gotten older; he's mellowed out; he doesn't care to startle people for entertainment any more.
"It's a word," says Augur. "it's the same as a prophet. I chose it; I thought it sounded cool. Mysterious. And now it's been a long time and it's just what everyone calls me." Augur is measuring coffee beans into small paper bags. He picks up each bag and shakes it a little before folding it closed.
"My ma, she named me Marcus. My dad -- well. I was a lot smarter than my dad, and he knew it, and he didn't like it. We didn't get along so good. So I left. I thought to myself, if I stay, I know exactly how this is going to turn out."
Josh nods and hmms a little, still sweeping.
"What kind of a name is Josh?" Augur asks, careful, casual.
Josh doesn't look up. "Same kind, I guess."
*
Jonathan Doors is a famous rich person, and for a long time Liam Palmer had no idea that Jonathan was also his grandpa. People make jokes about him, about how smart he is, and how crazy, and how mean. Now that Liam lives in his house, Liam knows that the jokes are all true.
Jonathan Doors invented the global, like 30 years ago when it seemed impossible and a little silly, but now everyone has one, and that's why everyone knows that he's smart.
One time Jonathan Doors paid a guy to shoot him, and then pretended to have died from it, and then he went on TV and told everyone it was a trick, and then he ran for president and lost real bad, and that's why everyone knows that he's crazy.
Jonathan Doors still goes on TV to say that the Companions were bad, even thought they've been gone a while now, longer then they were here to being with. What he says is that people shouldn't use anything that the Companions brought, shouldn't use interdimensional portals, or eat Saharan corn, or live in biogrown houses. He says people who are sick shouldn't take Taelon medicine; and if they'll die without it then they should die.
All the crazy stuff happened when Liam was really little, too little to remember really, so he guesses that's why his dad never mentioned about how he had a grandpa. Liam guesses it made Dad sad, to think about how his own dad, who probably used to take him to ball games and stuff like that, was crazy now.
*
Liam's dad's name is Joshua, and Joshua teaches at the law school and his specialty is Extraterrestrial Law, because even though the Companions are gone people are still suing each other about stuff that happened while they were here.
Liam's mom's name is Renee, and she's a lobbyist, which Liam doesn't know what that means exactly. They all have to go into the city for her work a lot, but that's okay because Liam loves the monuments, loves the museums, loves the flowing, shimmering building that used to be the Taelon embassy, different and more beautiful than anything he's ever seen.
But then they die, they both die all at once, and it sucks. And it turns out that he has a crazy grandpa and that sucks. And he has to go live with Jonathan, and that sucks. Everything sucks. Nothing has ever sucked as much as this.
*
If you ever try to talk to Jonathan about how he invented the global, about if it was hard, or how he knew it was a good idea, or anything like that, Jonathan gets really intense. Jonathan has this whole speech he gives if you ask him a question like that, and Liam pretty much has it memorized by now. | 13017baf6df34c1887a72ba8a628fe4e | ['6e7c1904c8b74c74b2e61d9ec59ab37d'] | "Did Doctor Belman say I could go?" Liam's been kind of a rule-follower since she chewed him out.
"She gave me some Xanax," says Ron.
"I don't need a Xanax!"
"Who says it's for you," says Ron. "It's not a great building, you may burn it down if you please."
This station is one of the ones built during the first Taelon occupation; the tunnel is totally round and purple and smooth, and virtual glass stops them from getting close to the tracks.
Liam puts his hand on the wall. He's always thought Taelon design was pretty, but ever since he got the other guy's memories, he's more-- He can tell that it's alive now, that it senses him. But it won't rat him out to the Taelons or anything. It's like a flower that opens when the sun comes out. They're both the flower. They're both the light.
It's cool.
*
Ron's apartment is pretty normal. There are some bookcases, couch, coffee table. Boring stuff. There's a terrarium. Liam can't see the animal from here.
"Go ahead," says Ron, "that's why you're here."
It's got moss, and a little pond, and a heat lamp, and a log and lying on top of the log is a skrill. It's curled around it like an arm. She's glowing. She's lovely.
"Wow," says Liam. He presses his nose up to the glass but it's not close enough. Sandoval brings him a kitchen stool and he stands on it to look over the top. He sticks his finger close but doesn't touch. She puts one of her feet into the pond, and he lays his hand down so it's skimming the water. He laughs.
He pulls his hand out of the water and turns his shaquarava on and off a couple of times. She copies him with the glow around her head. He makes his fingers walk across the moss toward her and when they get too close she fires a tiny little warning shot. Liam pulls his hand out and shakes it a little, but he's smiling. It didn't really hurt. It was like Raven told a joke.
He gets down off the chair.
"She's so great," he says.
Ron's sitting on the couch watching him. He's put snacks on the coffee table. Liam opens a can of Coke and sits down too, cross legged on the far end.
"Can I see," says Liam, and Ron seems to know what he means by that. He unbuttons his right sleeve and rolls it up the the elbow. Liam scoots closer and looks at the scars for a long time.
"You have to promise you're not mad," Liam says finally, "because it seems like kind of a big deal. It seems worth getting mad about."
"I swear I'm not mad at you," says Sandoval, "I'm not mad at-- at him either. It wasn't anything close to your fault."
Liam doesn't say anything.
"Maybe I was angry with Ha'gel, before I met you, when it was fresher. You're right; it was a big deal, and he did it without asking me, and without asking Siobhan. Siobhan died because of it and that was needless and-- tragic. She was lovely. But I'm not mad that you're here. I'm happy to have met you. I'm happy to have met both of you."
"okay," says Liam.
"You matter to me. I feel a connection. I want a relationship with you. If that's what you want too. I want to spend time with you, more than we do now. If that's okay. "
Liam isn't looking at Ron. He's kind of got his head pushed into gap between the couch cushions. Ron stops talking and pats his shoulder awkwardly.
"Okay," says Ron. "We don't have to talk about it. What do you want on your pizza?"
"onions," moans the couch, "pepperonis."
*
"Hey Pop," says Lee, coming in and putting his books and canvas down on a kitchen chair, rummaging in the fridge for the juice, drinking it out of the carton.
"Good evening," Ron says distractedly from the couch, where he's sorting through some papers. Then he remembers and looks up. "What's this I hear about a boyfriend?"
"Lili can't keep her mouth shut," says Lee. He takes a meat pie out of the freezer and uses his shaqs to warm it between his hands. Lili is a badass Marine-guerilla-spy and surely keeps confidences necessary to global stability, but Lee ought to have known better.
His dad comes over and takes the meat pie away to stick it in the microwave. Just because one time--
"I want to meet him," says Ron.
"You are absolutely not going to meet him," says Lee.
"I need to know he's not the sort of fellow who would transform into a being of pure energy and forcibly inhabit another person's body," says Ron. "And also that he's not 35, I suppose. I don't know what parents typically hope to gain from these introductions."
"Gross," says Lee. "He's in my art history class, he's from Pennsylvania."
"Is he also a dreamboat," asks Ron.
"He's never been to space. None of you are ever meeting him," says Lee, wishing for it, "and also you're not funny."
"Dinner on Thursday would be fine," says Ron. "Perhaps Augur would care to join us." The microwave dings.
Lee never wins. It's nothing to worry about. |
c65afe827d764b2e84521afc58bb67ad | ['6e7f5fa8f99e4460b66bc9e71efebf22'] |
1. Chapter 1
I remember one time
Being in the mental hospital
In blue scrubs and those little socks
They asked me how i'm feeling
And i looked at everyone around me
Remembered how alone i felt
How wrong it felt to wake up
To smile, to talk, to eat,
How i felt like i didnt belond
Even here with all the fucking crazies
I looked down at my daily inventory
Tried to stifle the tears that we threatening to escape
And answered as honestly as i could
"I feel like an alien"
I didnt belong there
But i didnt belong outside of there either
Maybe i wasnt meant to be on planet earth
Maybe i wasnt meant to be alive
And with that in mind i have
A bottle of pills resting under my bed
Just in case i ever want to return home
2. things that break my heart
The way he said goodbye. A finalization. A realization. That there is no way to help. A stern: take care of yourself, but this is where I part ways. Call your doctor in the morning. Goodbye. I cannot help you love yourself, for that is all you.
I don't think i'll ever love myself.
I lay on my bed, curling into myself. Wishing this didn't happen. No one's supposed to see me like this. Does anyone actually care? No one likes sad girls. No one likes an ugly heart. I have to be happy, right? Thats the ideal human. Pure smiles on their lips and in their hearts and eyes. I am not sunshine I am rain. My heart is tearful and torn and my mouth is a forced upturn of the lips. My eyes are so dark you can't tell, they're devoid of life. They've been dreary skies for days. Grey with little puffs of clouds.
I think my heart has been broken for years and years. I don't know if there is a way to mend it now. It's too late.
“You're sad, you may put up a front, but you're sad.”
I am.
The way it felt while I was sucking his dick. As if it was the most beautiful thing ever to be praised for such a task. The little noises escaping my mouth, the way it felt to cause someone else pleasure. The way I collapsed as he tried to enter me. Screaming no, no, stop. He stops. Pulls up his pants and leaves.
Is this all i'll ever be? A good fuck, someone to release sexual desire into? Sometimes I feel like I should sell my body. Ask for money, since this is my worth. I cry into freckled, tanned hands. I whisper for him not to to leave. He does. This is my worth. Nothing more than a release of repressed sexual frustration.
I am nothing.
The state if my room, the fact that I smoke, don't leave the house for days, the flies buzzing around the apartment, the scent of old laundry and unwashed dishes. “You're not happy, it's evident through everything you do.” Obvious signs that I don't really care about or notice. They've just become a part of my life. Do I care enough to wake up today? Should I bother doing my hair? Should I clean? If i'm not doing it for someone else, what's the point? Might as well turn over and pretend not to be alive. Who really gives a fuck.
No one. I surely don't.
The fresh cuts on my arm. I wake up numb, little slivers for eyes staring blankly at the wall. I can't speak clearly for a few hours. I avoid looking at my first loves picture. Avoid staring at his beautiful eyes. Green, sometimes with a bit of honey in them. The ones they donated to some unfortunate person who needed them more after he passed. I can't cry at first. I'm numb. I gather Zach's picture into my arms. Talk to him. Apologize over and over. And then suddenly I am weeping. Big, salty tears rolling down my cheeks
I smash the picture frame. Collect the shattered glass in my hands and slash it down my arms. Over and over. Little slices on my wrists and hands. They're just surface cuts. But I yearn for them to be deeper, to hit a vein, to bleed out. I stare at his picture and beg him to take me with him. To a better place. Why did he leave me?
“It's obvious it's Zach.” Matt says after I faint on the couch. I tell him no, no, that's not it.
I'm ok.
Have I ever been?
This current moment. Not the past or the future. Here and now. Matt asks me where the trauma started and ends. I can't even formulate a response because I'm too consumed in the way my hand is shaking. I can't feel my thumb brushing against my pointer finger. Why is Matt looking at me like that? Why can't I just go to sleep. Why won't he just leave me.
I just want this moment to end. I just want everything to end. It's not the past or future. It's now. It's the feelings I have when I press my lips to his, it's the feeling of anxiety twisting in my chest as he pries and pokes and prods. It's the feeling of not being good enough. It's these feelings right here in this moment that I just can't make stop.
3. a lowly sunflower
He was outer space
specks of stardust in soft black hair
eyes burning with the energy of a sun
freckles a constellation and lips the color of
a bursting, scorching red star
I was lowly
stuck down to earth, a yellow sunflower
sucking in his golden rays
dying with the change of harsh climate
rebirth when earth gets warm
I wish I was a sun and not a flower
wish I did not rely on his heat
the earths breath, | 94f91351865547d2b4ac94497ae7699f | ['6e7f5fa8f99e4460b66bc9e71efebf22'] | "Could you imagine, Craig? Could you imagine sitting in class, watching Mr. garrison eat the sandwhich he leaves on his desk everyday. Knowing that I had fucked you there? That Mr. Garrison is eating a sandwhich off the table I fucked you on?" he stands and gets into Craig's personal space. His face mere centimeters away from the other males. He rests a hand on Craig's cheek.
"Wouldn't that make you feel powerful, babe?" he questions. Craig can feel himself getting hard. He tries to turn his face away from Kenny's but the other male grabs his chin and make him look at him.
"Yes." he spits out, finally. He clenches his teeth together and stands, getting right into Kenny's face, too.
"Do it." he dares him. And that's it. Kenny starts fiercely kissing him. He tears off Craig's jacket while Craig pushes off his Parka. They back up towards Mr. Garrison's desk, Kenny pushing all of his papers off onto the floor as Craig sits down on the surface of it. Kenny goes in between Craig's legs and the dark haired male straddles him as the blond mouths at his jaw line, trailing down his neck. Eventually he gets sick of the stupid t-shirt Craig is wearing and pulls away to tug it off. Craig pulls off Kenny's white wife beater, too.
Craig runs his nails down Kenny's back, leaving bright red marks as he leaves a path of kisses down his abdomen. By now Kenny's pushed Craig down to lay on the desk and he fumbles with the button of his pants, eventually freeing himself from the confinement of the fabric. He digs in his pockets briefly to pull out a bottle of lube and a condom. he came prepared. He knew what he wanted and he knew where the scenario was going to go as soon as Clyde said 'let's smoke.'
He slides his hands down from where they rest on Craig's hips to the hem of his pants and he tugs them down,throws them to the floor. Kenny rips open the condom wrapper and covers his dick with the rubber, twisting open the cap to the bottle of lube and dipping his fingers inside. He pulls down Craig's boxers as the other male jerks his hips up, wanting to be touched. He covers Craig's mouth with his own as he pushes his fingers past the ring of muscle,
He moves slow and Craig's face scrunches up in pain. He curls his fingers inside of him and before he knows it he is swallowing the other males moans. He moves in and out, brushing up against his prostate.
Eventually he pulls his fingers out and he aligns his length with Craig's hole. He pushes inside, slowly at first as to not hurt him. He does anyways, but he continues moving and eventually Craig is running his nails down his arms and back again from pleasure. Kenny grunts, liking the the stinging it causes. He thrusts into him, in and out as he moves with him and he comes first, Craig coming a minute or so after.
Kenny leans over him, panting. Craig's chest rises and falls heavily and his head is turned to the side, he has a blissful look on his face and Kenny thinks it is beautiful.
"Fuck," the blond says as he pushes black strands away from the other males eyes. He plants a kiss to the side of his mouth.
They stay like that for awhile. Kenny still inside of him as they catch their breathes. He eventually pulls out and Craig eventually sits up. He ties the end of the condom in a knot and throws it in the garbage pin. Wordless, they gather their clothes, clean up the mess they made with Mr. Garrisons papers.
Craig leaves first after he is dressed, slamming the door shut behind him. Kenny sits there biting at his lip.
That was some of the best sex he's ever had.
2. Chapter 2
Kenny leaves Mr. Garrisons room a little while after Craig stomps away to their bedroom. He trudges through the snow to the dorms and closes their door quietly behind him. He throws off his parka, tugs off his pants, carefully steps over Clyde who is still on the floor and slips into bed. Kenny stares up at the bunk above him with Craig on his mind. He tosses and turns for awhile, but eventually he falls into a dreamless sleep, turning on the side facing the wall.
He wakes to the sun beaming down on his face through the window. It makes his nose itch and he lifts a hand to scratch at it. He opens his eyes to see Clyde digging around in his side of the dresser. The brunette pulls out a red shirt, not having to wear uniform because it is Sunday. School doesn't actually start until Monday, they had the weekend to catch up with their classmates and go to orientation, for the newer students.
Kenny lets out a yawn, sitting up in his bed. He can hear Butters move around in the bunk above him.
"Mornin, fellas!" He exclaims. Kenny replies with a sleepy "mornin" while Clyde continues quietly digging through his drawer. Craig doesn't say anything as well, but does acknowledge it. He raises his middle finger up at Butters.
Butters is one of those morning type of people. While Kenny gets up to stretch the other blond chatters on about how excited he is for the new school year. Clyde looks exhausted as he pulls on the t-shirt, he opts to stay in his sweat pants. Craig continues laying down with his back turned to them all. |
08cc6f47ffff4a3ebdb77355d5e81af1 | ['6eb22f55a0484b0ea21c75fbba3e7038'] | They continued like that, in their languid push-pull rhythm. Just enjoying the feel and taste of each other in their sleep deprived state. For once, there was no hurry; no interruptions. Alec kept his head on Magnus’s chest as he soothingly ran his hands through Alec’s hair and over the skin of his back, the motion becoming hypnotic for them both.
Being held like this by Magnus, feeling him inside, brushing over that spot again and again, knowing the centuries old man trusted him enough to reveal parts of himself that nobody else got to see, astounded him. The tingling was building up in the base of his spine, spreading to his testicles as they tightened with each touch of his prostate. His movements became more frantic, shoving himself up and down, grinding his desperate cock between their bellies, chasing the friction. He let out a soft moan when he found the right angle, fingers digging into the flesh of Magnus’s waist as he released. Magnus’s arms tightened protectively around him as he held him through the aftershocks.
He gripped him even tighter when his own release poured into Alec.
They laid there for a couple of minutes, letting the high fade before Alec kissed Magnus’s chest one more time and slid off of his lover. Magnus turned to his side, now each facing the other as Alec once again threw his leg over Magnus’s waist, using it as leverage to pull him closer. Alec’s skin rippled with goosebumps as he felt the air hit the rapidly cooling fluids and sweat coating their bodies. His stomach flipped when he felt Magnus’s cum run down the back of his thigh as it leaked from him and seeped into the sheets.
The Warlock lifted his hand from Alec’s waist to clean the mess magically, but Alec protested, instead pulling the blanket around them and imploring “Leave it. I want to feel it.”
Magnus’s cat eyes widened a bit in surprise and countered with a whispered “It’ll get uncomfortable.”
Alec grabbed Magnus’s hand and slid his body up just a fraction, letting his seed between them soak into their skin. “Just for a bit.”
Magnus nodded, a look of incredulity and awe on his face.
Sleep, which had been so rudely interrupted, came back full force to reclaim Alec. His eyes closed and his thumb lightly stroked the delicate skin of Magnus’s inner wrist.
“I love you.” He slurred into the air between their mouths.
“I love you too, my Alexander.” The reply.
A few beats passed before Alec interrupted the quiet peace.
“Thank you.”
“What for?” Magnus asked with sincere curiosity.
“Letting me see you.” Alec foggily responded as he grazed his index fingers over Magnus’s knuckles.
Magnus paused.
“Thank you for seeing me.” The Warlock earnestly, and shakily responded.
Alec sighed in contentment as sleep finally took him. He knew it wasn’t just the jewelry and cat eyes Magnus was talking about.
**Author's Note:**
> I was thinking of doing a second chapter where Magnus lets Alec see him without makeup for the first time, but I'm not sure where I'll take it yet. Probably just more sex ;)
>
> We'll see how well this chapter is received first. | e8da3d7b86bc42e791380562bd06c4eb | ['6eb22f55a0484b0ea21c75fbba3e7038'] | Both of their heads whipped around as the locked door knob refused to budge. Agron only pulled Nasir down harder, his fingers digging into soft hips. The rough thrust was deeper and hit his prostate. “Fuck Agron God!” he yelled out, not caring who was on the other side of the door. Duro’s cautious voice called out, “Are you guys okay in there?” Nasir’s stifled groans became whimpers as Agron continued to batter into him. “FUCK OFF!” Agron shouted back before his mouth met Nasir’s, swallowing his noises.
He could vaguely hear “Geez fine, just asking” and footsteps walking away. He would end up apologizing later, but he turned his attention back to Nasir, pumping his cock and his ass in a relentless rhythm, trying to tip Nasir over the edge as quickly as possible so they could get back to their guests without any suspicion. But Nasir was being stubborn, not wanting to detach from Agron, he was holding back to prolong the moment. “Come for me Little Man” Agron whispered into his ear. “I need to feel you come now. There’s plenty of time to do more later. We’re married now remember?” he coaxed. Nasir’s eyes met his and he reluctantly nodded.
With two more thrusts and one more pump, Nasir was squirting all over them both, muffling his groans in Agron’s chest. Agron too came as soon as Nasir clamped down on him. He filled Nasir, his body wracked with spasms in aftershock. The childhood sweethearts, the love struck teenagers, the married couple, could only lay there in each other’s arms, catching their breaths, not caring the rented tuxedo jackets were now stained with Nasir’s fluids. Minutes later, when they emerged from their hiding place, put back together as much as possible, they met a room full of whistles and catcalls. Apparently they were a lot louder than they thought. Only the weight staff and their parents looked uncomfortable. Gannicus, always the loudest of the bunch, yelled out “NO WONDER YOU GUYS GOT BUSTED AFTER ONLY A MONTH!” referring to their attempt to try to hide their new relationship.
Nasir buried his face in Agron’s chest, embarrassment reddening his face. But he was wearing a smile when Agron guided him to their chairs so it couldn’t have been that bad. Agron kissed his hand, smoothed out his hair, straightened his tie and flashed those dimples at him. The rest of the party went smoothly, if not with a little teasing, and when the it was over, they went back to their apartment and made love slowly, loudly and thoroughly before hopping on a plane to Germany the next morning where they would honeymoon.
~~~~~~~~~~~
At the memory of their perfect wedding day, and the consummation of their marriage in a coat closet, Nasir had snuggled into Agron’s chest, gently caressing Agron’s hard cock. It wasn’t meant to lead to sex, but only to be a soothing touch on an intimate place of his husband’s body. Agron’s eyes were closed, enjoying the lazy attention. Nasir was also nodding off. He could see the sun was beginning to set through the window, and although they were both content to lie where with each other until the morning, the TV in the living room needed to be turned off, Max needed to be fed, walked and they both should eat something too; at the very least, rehydrate.
With a groan and a pout, Nasir peeled himself away from Agron, got out of bed and went to flip on the light as now the room was filled with only the weakening light of dusk. “I made us dinner earlier” Nasir stated as he pulled his t-shirt and Under Armor pants on again, not bothering to fix the lopsided and messy ponytail. “We just need to heat it up. You wanna shower while I walk Max?”
Agron thought, eyeing his husband in his clothes which were covered in dirt, dog hair and a few scattered leaf bits, his skin sticky with fluids and his hair in not much better condition. “I think we both could use a shower” he stated slyly. We’ll walk Max together, eat together, shower together and then fuck all night. Sound good?”
Nasir’s stomach flipped at the prospect and could only nod. Agron smiled brightly, pleased with himself for catching his husband off guard. “Five days is too long. I’ll be stuck to you every minute until Monday morning, making up for lost time.” They would get one whole day together before they separated for their respective jobs again, each feeling a ping of disappointment at the thought.
Agron, beginning to dress for their walk, leaned down and kissed Nasir, cupping his cheek with the palm of his hand. “I love you” It was simple declaration, no frills or fuss. Just like Agron.
Nasir nodded in acknowledgement and reciprocation, a small content smile shinning in his eyes. That too was Nasir’s way; graceful and peaceful.
Nasir reached up to return the kiss, tongue lingering on Agron’s bottom lip before turning on his heel to open the door, calling for Max to come for his walk. Agron looked at his retreating form in awe.
How in the hell had he gotten so lucky?
_And they lived happily ever after._
**Author's Note:**
> My hometown has a drive-in that does play triple features on the weekends for $7. I miss that place!
>
> Thanks for reading. I hope ya'll enjoyed the boys on this alternate universe journey.
>
> Comments and Kudos not required, but appreciated. :) |
12d2382683904968a16e2d113836fbf8 | ['6eb64c6da7d744d6b3fcaff6450fa786'] | Niall gripped Louis' sword, ignoring the other Little's pleas to let go and yanked it from Louis' grip and smacked it across Louis' pixie face. Shock was the first thing Louis felt. Niall had hit him! And to another who wasn't a Little, they wouldn't be as affected, but the foam sword did cause a sting to Louis' cheek and the second he felt it, he began to sob.
A flee of hurried footsteps we heard. "What's going on?"
"Louis! Are you alright?" Harry hurried to the Little. Perrie gave a stern glare at Niall (who failed to hide the foam sword behind his back.)
Louis continued to cry as Harry picked him up and carried him to the bathroom to further inspect the obvious red mark on his face.
"He hit me, _Daddy_. He hit me!" Louis couldn't have picked a better time to fall deep in headspace. Harry held back a smile he desperately wanted to flash at Louis call him that name he so longed to hear. Louis continued to cry as Harry pressed a cold wash cloth to his hurt cheek.
"Oh, lovely. It's okay, see? Nothing a kiss from Daddy can't solve." Keeping his promise, he planted a soft kiss to the wound. Louis whimpered.
"Let's go talk to Niall and figure out what happened, okay sweetie?" Harry helped Louis to his feet.
The way Louis called his 'Daddy' had his heart flutter.
☆☆☆
After Niall spent time in the corner, apologized to Louis and the foam swords were taken away, both boys were fast asleep having their nap on the couch.
Perrie couldn't stop apologizing.
"I am so sorry for how he acted, Hazza, I'm beyond embarrassed! I just hope it didn't trigger Louis' transition into headspace." she frowned, cupping her cup of tea. Harry shook his head.
"Oh no! Not at all. Actually," he turned to look back, assuring himself that Louis was sleeping sound before leaning in and whispering, "he called me Daddy today! It's the first time too!"
Perrie grinned, remembering her own time when Niall called her and Jesy 'Mama' and 'Mummy'. It's a right of passage for every Parental Dom. It essentially means that The Little was growing comfortable wither their Dom and would soon see them as their potential parents.
"Congratulations, Hazz! This is just the first step, soon he'll be calling you that all the time."
Honestly, Harry couldn't imagine Louis doing such a thing, but imagining that as a reality was nice too.
_Who knows,_ he asked himself. _Maybe Perrie is right and I'm wrong._
Gazing back at his sleeping boy on the couch, his cheek still red and a dummy in his mouth. He hoped he was wrong.
7. The First Meeting
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> 3 more chapters to go. Introducing: Harry's family.
Because meeting Niall had gone so well, (maybe not well) and brought Louis into headspace, Harry knew this would be the perfect opportunity for Louis to meet his family-his _new_ family. It was one of Harry's top priorities. Along with keeping Louis into headspace, he was dead-set on Louis forgetting about his biological family. For a Little, it would be traumatic and confusing to be taken away from their real parents and i to the hands of a stranger. However, Doms were not only physically stronger than Gads and could carry Littles with ease, but they are known to be very patient.
Which is why it's best to help the Little forget all about their real family. It would be better on everyone.
Gemma, since she was at college, was back for the holidays and his mum and step-father have been begging to see Louis. Harry's family were all Gads (Normal) so it was a surprise to Anne when she found out Harry was a Dom. Of course, she had seen the signs of his naturally protective nature and firmness, but it was a shock because no one from The Styles were Doms, mainly all were Gads. Still, it was a pleasant surprise.
Louis was currently in the pram watching TV. Harry was busy cooking up a tasty brunch consisting of healthy french toast and fruit. He hadn't had any problems that were severe with Louis. Of course he was resistant to things like bedtime, naptime and maybe bathtime, but with a gentle song or negotiations, Harry always had his way.
Smiling back at the boy who was so infused with Elmo and his breakfast bottle, Harry still remembered how Louis called him 'Daddy'. Louis hadn't done it since, but Harry would be patient.
"Hey love, that empty?" Harry gently asked as he approached the white pram. Louis hadn't realized his bottle was empty and handed it back, more interested in the TV. Elmo was talking to Mr. Noodle.
The Dom smiled, "Pretty soon Gramma, Grammpa and Auntie Gemma will be here. Won't that be fun? They're very excited to meet you."
Harry couldn't help but gush at how adorable he dressed Louis. The Little was in a bright red pair of overalls and a dark blue and white striped t-shirt. He even had knitted socks on his small feet.
"Hmm..." Louis held a stuffed whale he seemed to find comfort in. Harry hadn't said anything, but always made sure Louis would fall asleep and wake up with the stuffed whale.
After Elmo was over, Louis was taken from the pram and given building blocks to stack in the living room while Harry set the table. They'd be here any minute. While Harry was busy, Louis kept to himself. He wasn't an idiot, he knew why Harry's family was coming over. | 594e284ae89b467c91437814ad923981 | ['6eb64c6da7d744d6b3fcaff6450fa786'] | Louis was afraid to find out. Already he was diapered, dressed in a sleep romper and now being carried out of the bathroom into a brand new room he never saw but knew it belonged to him. The room was pretty dark minus a nightlight glowing next to a rocking chair. In the corner of the room was a large, white crib with a blue canopy and matching soft bedding that actually looked very comfy. But Harry directed them to the chair and pulled a book off the shelf next to it.
"There's two things you get after your bath. One of them is a story and the other is cuddles." Harry softly spoke, hoping the warm bath would be enough to tire Louis out. Louis groaned as Harry sat down and actually began to rock in the chair before opening the book.
" _Where The Wild Things Are._ Have you read that book before?"
"When I was two." Louis glared, " _Fourteen_ years ago." Harry ignored him and began reading the children's book. Louis couldn't get into the story, there was just too much going on and happening that even if he wanted to listen to the story he couldn't. Louis just wanted to get the night over with. When the story was finished, Harry held Louis close and continued to rock in the chair.
"I'm glad you're with me now, baby. Daddy missed you and was so worried about you, you have no idea. But Daddy will make sure to watch you very closely from now on. We can have a great life together Louis, if you just listen to Daddy and be yourself."
Like Hell Louis was going to let that happen. He was going to demand to be taken back to the doctors and retake the test, he still hadn't given up on the idea that this was a huge mistake. The boy had been thinking too hard and didn't notice he was drifting off to sleep. . . or the fact that he was sucking on three of his fingers.
Harry was sure he'd cave in soon. Just a matter of time now.
3. The First Punishment
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> 7 more chapters to go!! This chapter features a temper tantrum from hell, spanking and some rules.
"You can force me in a diaper but I won't fucking use it!" Louis screamed. Harry groaned, he could feel a head ache coming on. It wasn't even nine in the morning and already Louis had been screaming for twenty minutes. Harry had hoped Louis would go in the diaper in his sleep last night, but apparently Louis still had control over his bowels and bladder. Harry didn't care about that, he was more worried about Louis not using the diaper.
"Love, it can't be healthy holding it in for so long."
"Then let me go to the bathroom!"
It was a cycle with Louis. He'd demand to use the toilet, Harry would inform him he may use the smaller Little potty, or go in his diaper then Louis would throw a fit. Louis was still insisting that this was all a big mistake and demanded to be taken to the Doctors for another testing. That was over thirty minutes ago.
"Louis, please, just pick one or the other, it can't be good holding it for that long." Harry kneeled down.
"I want to use the toilet, not _the potty_ or this thing!" Louis tugged on the puffy white material. "I'm an adult, I wish to be treated as such!"
Harry was at the point where he just wanted to give up and let Louis have his way, thankfully there was a quiet noise and Louis gasped, telling Harry that Louis couldn't hold it anymore and went. He was confirmed by the stain on the white diaper-now with a yellow patch in front. Louis trembled and he started to cry. Not only had he just wet himself (and in front of Harry), but it was due to the fact that he didn't hold it in as long as he used to, something that never happened to him before.
The smaller boy sniffled at first before full blown tears and sobs errupted and it almost had Harry plugging his ears at how such a loud noise could come from someone so small as Louis.
"Oh, honey, it's okay-"
"No its not!" Louis stomped his foot, yet another thing that startled even him.
"Let's get you changed." Harry cooed, picking up the boy in his arms and carrying him up to the nursery. Louis screamed louder and wiggled so much Harry feared he'd drop the boy on the table. "Now, stop that, Louis!"
"No, no, _nonono_!" Shaking like a leaf and fighting like a turtle on its back, Louis did everything to keep Harry from touching him be it kicking, or hitting and slapping and ultimately Harry had enough and flipped Louis over before tearing off the diaper completely with one hand and smacking the boy's wet bottom sharply.
The action caused Louis to almost choke. He now laid on his stomach, stunned at his outburst and because he was literally just spanked. _Like a naughty little boy._
"I've warned you and you continued to scream. If you're claiming to be a Dom, then I have news for you, Louis: Dominants do not act like this at all!" Harry almost shouted, but kept his cool. There was no need to further push the boy, for all Harry knew Louis might slip into headspace in a dangerous way and that could take hours to pull him out.
The Little's bottom lip trembled as Harry turned him back over and began to wipe him clean, powder, add any rash prevention oils and creams and then a light dosage of fregrance in the air above Louis to mask the damp smell of urine. Once taped back into an extra-fluffy diaper, Louis faced Harry. |
8503b7beb68a4e9c9789cb6cebba371f | ['6ed6209c8ac44a3c83cf36a93cba4211'] | "You..." Kal ripped the envelope open and gaped at the papers that gave him ownership of the Daily Planet. "Holy shit!" He beamed up at Lex, lunging up to kiss him hungrily. "You are amazing."
"Just be glad I'm not as fast at all things." Lex flicked a glance at Kal and arched an eyebrow. "And you're still dressed."
"I am?" In the time it took Kal to utter the two words and raise his eyebrows, his clothes disappeared, and it was a very naked, very aroused Kryptonian who leaned over Lex.
"To quote myself, I'm glad you're not as fast at all things." Lex reached out and stroked a hand up Kal's erection.
"Some things are worth savoring." Kal arched his back, watching Lex through heavy-lidded eyes as he thrust into Lex's hand.
Lex nodded slowly. "Like you. My turn tonight, Kal. I'm taking you this time."
"You think so?" Kal challenged, nostrils flaring as his breathing quickened.
"I know so." Lex smirked and drew a small lead box from between the cushions. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Kal. S&M is all and good, but I think we'd both enjoy it more the other way."
"I think we'd both enjoy it more in bed," Kal retorted, scooping Lex up and carrying him to the bedroom. He set Lex on his feet beside the bed and sprawled in the middle, one knee raised. "So come and get me."
Lex tossed the small lead box away and crawled onto the bed, settling himself between Kal's legs and running his hands up the other man's thighs to his groin where he stroked and toyed with Kal's erection.
Kal smirked down at him. "You just gonna play with that?"
"For now." Lex leaned in and licked at the head of Kal's cock, leaning over to grab the lube out of his nightstand. Continuing to toy with Kal's shaft, he squeezed some gel out onto Kal's stomach, and then ran his fingers through it.
Kal shivered from the sensation, his eyes half closing and his back arching. "You do know what to do with your toys."
Lifting his mouth away from Kal's cock, Lex nodded. "That's because I only play with the best." He sucked on the head of Kal's shaft again and pushed a finger into his tight ass.
"Mmm, glad you noticed." Kal pressed down, groaning slightly as the finger slid deeper. "So fuck me."
Lex used the edge of his teeth on Kal's cock, knowing it wouldn't hurt him, and added a second finger, thrusting them in and out until Kal was moving along with them.
"Oh fuck yeah." Kal stared down at the bald head between his thighs, hips rocking to thrust his cock into the teasing mouth. "Cock tease."
Lex chuckled around the thick flesh in his mouth, then suddenly moved over Kal, shoving himself into Kal's ass, his hands tightening on the powerful thighs wrapped around him.
"Lex!" Kal wailed, even his body feeling that impact... and loving it. "Fuck yeah, fuck me," he demanded, thrusting upward to try to force Lex deeper inside him.
"Yeah," Lex grunted, almost pushed up off the bed by Kal's movements. "Fuck you hard and long - mine..."
"Yessss," Kal hissed, back arching till his body bowed. "Yours. And you're mine." He reached up, one hand curling around the back of Lex's neck, and pulled him down into an almost desperate kiss.
Lex nodded against the kiss and thrust harder into the other man, wanting to feel him as out of control as he made Lex.
"Never gonna let you go," Kal growled, arms tightening around Lex and holding him tightly as he came, his seed covering their bellies while his ass rippled around Lex.
"Oh, fuck!" Lex cried, feeling his cock gripped in an incredibly tight vise before he came as well.
"I think you just did," Kal snickered.
"I think I'm lucky you didn't rip my dick off."
"Not a chance. I like it too much right where it is."
"In you," Lex nodded before growling out a curse when his private line rang. He levered himself up onto an elbow and picked up the receiver, then held it away from his ear so Kal could hear Jonathan Kent shouting. "Looks like Mommy and Daddy found out you were home."
"Tell 'em to fuck off," Kal replied loudly enough for the phone to pick it up, "so you can fuck me again."
Lex chuckled throatily. "Sorry, Jonathan, Clark can't come to the phone now, though he did just come. Maybe he'll call you later - or maybe not." He hung up the phone and kissed Kal again, growling when the phone rang again. "Remind me to get that number changed."
Kal glared at the phone, which promptly dissolved in a cloud of molten plastic and sparks. "Problem solved," he replied smugly.
"From this end anyway," Lex answered once he'd stopped laughing.
"I really don't give a damn about the other end. Dumb hick farmer."
"Hrmmm, we're going to have to take a visit back there so you can tell him that to his face."
Kal snickered. "Can you imagine his face? He'll look like he just swallowed a cow patty."
"It's petty, but I think I'll give him his foreclosure notice right after that. I always hated that sanctimonious asshole."
"Maybe I should burn that annoyingly cheerful farmhouse to the ground. Free myself from the past, so to speak. And for the record, Lex, you weren't his favorite person either. He was trying to prevent this, like the asshole he is."
Lex rested his chest on his forearms and smiled. "I think we'll both be a lot happier when our pasts can't bother us any longer, don't you?"
Kal's answering smile was slow. "They say you ought to bury the past."
Lex's smile grew shark-like. "I prefer blowing it up, myself." | aaa15bbb9874440a959d8b3c46116164 | ['6ed6209c8ac44a3c83cf36a93cba4211'] | "I intend to," Kal rasped, hands curving around Lex's head to pull him closer, back arching as he groaned his pleasure. "You're such a fucking amazing cocksucker. But that's enough. I want your ass." He yanked Lex to his feet and wrenched his pants free as easily as he had the shirt, only unfastening the belt first to make sure he didn't break any bones.
The moment he had Lex naked, aside from the shoes and socks he didn't give a damn about, Kal grabbed Lex by the waist, raised him up and pulled him down onto his cock, not stopping till he was buried to the hilt inside the other man.
Cursing under his breath as he felt himself tear, Lex dug his fingers into Clark's shoulders as he rode out the pain, knowing the other man wouldn't feel it. Damn, who knew this lived inside Clark and fuck if he didn't want more of it.
Raising his head, Lex met Clark's gaze and hooked his ankles together behind his back. "Well, you've got it," he goaded. "What are you planning on doing with it?"
"Ride it hard and put it away wet... eventually." Kal smirked as he started a punishing rhythm, knowing damn well that Lex liked pain sometimes, something that his whiny-assed usual self hadn't been able to deal with.
"Ahh, fuck," Lex gasped, throwing his head back against the wall and letting himself hang from Clark's hands, turned on almost as much by the unusual sense of helplessness as he was by the combination pleasure and pain of Clark's thrusts.
"That's what I'm doing." Kal laughed, moving into the middle of the room so Lex didn't have even the slight support of the wall and was totally dependent on him. He bent his head to worry at a nipple, biting and sucking before giving the other the same treatment.
Both hating and loving the total loss of control, Lex drew one hand from Clark's shoulders and reached between them to palm his own cock, his body rocking in time as much as possible with the other man's thrusts.
"That's it, Sexy," Kal purred darkly, releasing Lex's now hard and reddened nipples to watch him jerk himself. "Come for me. Wanna watch you come hard while I fuck you over and over."
There was something slightly ominous in that command, and Lex couldn't hold back the shudder that ripped through him at the tone of Clark's voice, a shudder that changed into tremors as he came, his ass clamping down on Clark's cock as his come splattered both their chests.
"Mmm, good. That's one." Kal leered down at him. "Gotta make up for all the time we've been apart, Sexy." He never stopped thrusting into Lex, not caring that he was whining faintly at the continued stimulation of his body.
"And I repeat," Lex groaned, knowing that, fast healing or not, he was going to be walking funny for several days after this, "you're the one who left."
"So what?" Kal didn't give a shit. Besides, it was Clark who left, not him. He wrapped a fist around Lex's soft cock, stroking it roughly to arouse him again.
"Just making an observation." Lex winced. "And if you pull that off, it's not going to be much use to either of us."
"I wouldn't dream of breaking my favorite toy," Kal chuckled. "But I want to see just how many times you can come."
"And I would assume you're going to come too sometime in here?" Lex asked dryly before sucking in a breath as Clark's stroking began to arouse him again.
"Of course. But we've never explored just how far we can go, have we, Sexy?" Kal purred. "Gonna find out what makes you scream."
Now both of Lex's eyebrows flew upwards though he refrained from stating that Clark was the one who'd always wanted to avoid anything 'too kinky'. "Been browsing the 'net, have you?"
"A little, though I didn't need to learn much more. Clark checked it all out, but he was too much of a wuss to try any of it. I don't have that problem." Kal smiled wickedly, his eyes fixed on Lex's slowly rising cock. "Later when I've had my fill of you, we can go find some playmates and double fuck some bitch. Or maybe get a guy and he and I can do you. Maybe not," he added, considering. "This ass is mine. Not sure I want to share it." He gave a particularly hard, possessive thrust.
Lex chuckled somewhat shakily as his brain seemed to be migrating south along with all the blood in his body. "Glad to hear it," he rasped, before cocking his head to the side, groaning when Clark hit his prostate again and again. "And if Clark's a wuss, just what do I call you?"
"Kal. Better get the name right when you're screaming it," Kal replied, smirking as Lex reacted to the brutal fucking. He glanced in the mirror to watch them, frowning at breaks in their nakedness caused by his clothes and Lex's shoes and socks. He quickly stripped them off the remaining garments, shifting easily while supporting Lex with one hand, smirking at the gasps and moans caused by the changes in position.
"And just where--ahh fuck--did that name come from?" Lex gasped, somewhat annoyed at being manhandled this way but unable to do a thing about it. His time would come though; he knew Clark's--or Kal's--weakness.
"I was born with it. Kal-El of Krypton, to be precise. But since there's no longer a Krypton or a House of El, Kal will do. And right now he wants to do you." Kal smirked at his own humor, now gripping Lex's hips and bouncing him on his cock after making sure that he had the right angle for Lex's prostate to slam down on him every time. |
9b8f62ae49354654b5b3b5c093a8e475 | ['6edf9c0b1ae542e4981a962d12b19170'] | Tajima leveled a stink-eye at him. “What’s your name?”
“Abe Takaya,” Abe said. From the corner of his eye, he saw Mihashi jump. Weird.
“Listen,” he said to Mihashi once Tajima had made his way over to Hanai, startling the other man out of his conversation. “You’ll go to the hospital if you feel poorly, right? What you did was really scary, and there are more important things than some building—”
Mihashi had turned from him and was looking at the bakery, and for the first time Abe noticed the sign—The Real Ace. Curious. He felt heat on his face when Mihashi turned back to him.
“Thanks—A-A-Abe. I didn’t mean to scare anyone, honestly.” Mihashi looked hesitant, so red and shaky that Abe worried he might pass out, but Mihashi’s next words were resolute. “It is important, though.”
As Abe took his leave of Mihashi, he couldn’t help but believe the guy was on to something after all.
\---
Abe went home that night a little tense still, preoccupied with thoughts of Mihashi. How could that guy risk his life over an oven? The annoyance was still bubbling in his chest.
If he was being honest with himself— which he didn’t need to be, of course—there was something more that pulled him back to thoughts of Mihashi. That face framed by that hair, face flush and lips curved awkwardly around that sweet voice—Abe groaned. It was all _very_ annoying. Something kept tugging at him, some distant thought—
Abe was tired the next morning, staying up too late and waking up too early for his shift. He moved like a zombie into the small station kitchen, hoping that Suyama or Sakaeguchi had been thoughtful enough to leave him some coffee. His heart thrilled happily in his chest when he saw that the pot was still half full.
He leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee thoughtfully, and looked out through the open window that surveyed the garage. Oki was hosing down their truck, lips pursed like he was whistling some kind of tune. In the background, Abe thought he heard Hanai’s low and commanding voice, and he wondered who he was talking to.
He was just about to down the coffee and head out to help Oki clean up when Sakaeguchi rounded the corner, greeting him happily.
“Ah, Abe,” he said, a cheeky grin on his face. “You might want to head out front. Mizutani says someone is here to see you.”
Abe’s mind went blank when he thought of who could be here to see him, especially so early in the morning. He wondered when the last time he talked to Shun was, but quickly put the thought out of his head. Shun might be energetic, but certainly not energetic enough to roll out of bed and head to the station when he could easily pick up a phone to bug his older brother Takaya.
When Abe rounded the corner, his mind buzzed excitedly to life again. Standing with Mizutani at the dispatch desk was Mihashi, arms laden with several white pastry boxes. He looked—good, Abe had to say. Except for the bandage that was still on his arm, he looked well-rested and healthy. Abe was glad for that.
As Mihashi answered one of Mizutani’s questions, his arm jostled excitedly, and the boxes tipped dangerously, careening towards the floor. Abe’s feet kicked into action well before his head did and he caught them gracefully.
Mizutani chuckled at the scene as Mihashi flushed a brilliant red, stuttering out, “A-A-A-Abe—”
“Careful,” was all Abe could think to say, heaving a sigh. “You’re kind of a klutz, aren’t you?”
Mizutani raised an eyebrow at that, but Mihashi’s embarrassed face flickered up into a smile, and he ducked his head low. “I- I wanted to come see Abe and give him these,” he said, gesturing to the boxes. “Abe and his team— as thanks!”
Abe nodded, figuring as much. They sometimes got treats from locals that they had helped out, particularly the ones that felt embarrassed about needing their assistance. Somehow, though, that didn’t seem to be Mihashi’s case—he seemed to genuinely want to do something for Abe and the team, out of the goodness of his heart.
Abe’s own heart fluttered—stupidly—as he lifted up a corner of the top box and peered inside. The sweets looked fairly Western—Abe recognized one of the pastries as an éclair—and something smelled heavenly. He felt his cheeks warm when Mizutani let out a joyous laugh and began to call to the others.
Suddenly, Abe’s team had gathered around the desk and were jostling each other, calling out what they wanted. Someone had decided that Abe got first pick, and Abe felt Mihashi watching him excitedly as he chose a sweet roll, _anpan_ , hoping for something with a more savory filling. He never was one for sweets.
He fell back as the others shuffled past him, crowing at the carefully packed éclairs, danishes, sweet rolls, and even _taiyaki_. It was obvious that they were used to their protein-filled breakfasts, and were inordinately excited about the chance for something new and sweet.
Abe shared a look with Mihashi, whose eyes were sparkling as he watched the scene unfold. He brought the _anpan_ to his mouth and bit into it, the red bean paste an enjoyable if comfortable taste. While he didn’t enjoy sweets, he really did love this flavor—although, as he chewed carefully, Abe realized there was something slightly different about the reliable red bean paste. Something nutty to it—he couldn’t quite place it, but it was a new and enjoyable pairing. Abe was surprised to find that he liked it so much.
As he almost loses himself in his next bite, a thought occurs to him. He swallows and studies Mihashi carefully, the question on the tip of his tongue.
“Your oven?” Abe finally asks. Mihashi shakes his head, a glimmer of sadness flashing against his awkward smile. | 219eb6792620448d988a43b94c221404 | ['6edf9c0b1ae542e4981a962d12b19170'] | “Well,” another hesitation. Crowley knew better than to view this demon as naive, however young they were. Possession was a skill, one that Crowley had barely mastered (though, that was more a result of never getting enough practice, or wanting any). No, it was best to view this demon for what it was… a threat.
“Let’s just say, downstairs didn’t quite like my vision. They are so small-picture. Not like you.”
The smoke figure didn’t have a mouth, but Crowley could almost picture the gaping smile, the trademark of so many demons he’d encountered before.
“And what is your vision?”
“That boy was just my ride, but the master of this factory is my destination. His soul is already beautifully corrupted, but the power he has… could impact so many more. I want to secure the souls of his workforce for our master. Accident after accident… who could have foreseen it?”
The smoke began to ebb and flow, like black waves of night.
“Children work here,” Crowley found himself saying. It was the wrong thing to say.
“Yes, innocent souls, the ones we like best. Or have you forgotten?”
The hallway flooded black.
“They say,” the voice was in Crowley’s ear, in his _head_. “That you’ve forgotten your purpose up here. How about a little help with this endeavor? Lest Hell think you’ve abandoned your post…”
Then, the smoke dissipated entirely, and Crowley knew only that he needed to look to Henry.
Sure enough, the boy’s irises sparked the color of pitch, and his mouth curled darkly up.
“And you wouldn’t want to disappoint your fans.”
* * *
Aziraphale is dozing behind his desk when Crowley unlocks the doors to his shop. He had closed the doors well before noon, frustrated that people had come in looking to buy up his books. Perhaps he had overestimated his love of humanity— or underestimated his love of his books.
“Crowley!” He starts awake when the bell chimes, recognizing the dark shades and coils of red hair that breeze into his existence. As always, Aziraphale’s heart starts to beat a little quicker. _Really_ , he admonishes himself.
“Were you sleeping?” Crowley had looked quite rushed, but now he is rocking back on those long legs, casting a judgmental look over at Aziraphale. He feels himself bristle under the scrutiny, thinks _don’t look too closely_.
“Yes. I find it quite relaxing. Almost as good as a robust Burgundy.”
“Well,” Crowley was biting his lip. “I don’t have time to unpack that. I have a problem.”
Aziraphale’s mind flashed to the danger he had sensed last night. _Is he choosing me?_
“Let me help, dear boy.”
Crowley pulled over a stool and perched lightly on it, taking off his shades. Aziraphale gazed into his serpentine irises coolly, before Crowley cast his eyes down.
“I’ve been living in the tenements.”
This wasn’t where Aziraphale had expected Crowley to start.
“Oh,” he said simply. Crowley glanced up quickly, then resumed his careful stare at the wood grains of the floor.
“There are families there, and I enjoy living with them. Quite a lot of fun to be had, little temptations here and there…”
“Little miracles?” Aziraphale inquired, filling in the gaps. Crowley shrugged, and Aziraphale knew the truth.
“They are all in danger now. There’s a demon here, a young one, but he’s lethal. He’s putting them all at risk.”
“You love them.”
“I’m a demon, I can’t remember how to love,” Crowley stated this as though it were plain and simple fact, and not something that made Aziraphale’s heart ache.
“It’s just… it’s about the children, isn’t it,” Crowley said. “I mean, what choice did they have in the matter? There’s no element of temptation to his plan, it’s just…”
“Suffering,” Aziraphale finished the thought.
“And really,” Crowley groans. “Where’s the art in it?”
“Perhaps I should say something,” Aziraphale’s mind is already whirling with possibilities, and looking at the deep ache of Crowley’s posture, not all of them are bloodless. He had never been one for smiting, but he had also never been in love before. “You know, a check in from the friendly neighborhood angel. He must have sensed my presence by this point.”
“I don’t want to put you on the spot,” Crowley said, even though it was clear this was the only option. “He’s low, he wasn’t even issued a body. I don’t think they even know he’s here. But he could… say things, about me. He could bring me down.”
“Ah,” Aziraphale said, but his mind was white with panic. So, this really wasn’t a favor at all. This was where Aziraphale saved Crowley’s life.
“Angel,” Crowley was saying, as Aziraphale stood and made his way to him. “I’m not ready to go back.”
“Hush,” Aziraphale found himself saying, not only to Crowley, who was still trying to match his fierce gaze, but also to his own live-wire nerves.
“I’ve been where you are now,” the words fell from his mouth with an ease. He saw Crowley’s eyes flash with recognition. Yes, they had made the same mistakes. _We are the same,_ Aziraphale pushed the feeling out, because he could not say it. “I got too close, once. But you were there for me.”
He brought his hand to his neck, and Crowley tracked the motion with golden eyes. He saw Crowley swallow, his throat bob tightly with the action.
“You’ve always been there for me,” Aziraphale said. Crowley was leaning toward him, now, but Aziraphale didn’t know what for. They were lost in the moment together, 200 years earlier, Aziraphale bleary from a near discorporation-by-hanging, and Crowley watching him manically, as if he’d very nearly lost something important. The both of them sat and watched a horse in a field for what felt like minutes but could have been hours, before their hands found each other. They hadn’t said anything about it since. |
5229d09672f74d0c9a12b90f6ea8ab09 | ['6eff14c30170491685639de8164bd46a'] |
The Innocent Truth
It’s a month after Max lets the two women escape before the press gets enough information to put two and two together. They escaped what should have been a sure thing, and then Max was off the case. Never mind that it’s officially written that she resigned, they decide there has to be more. To their credit, they aren’t wrong. She gets requests for interviews, surprise visits by camera crews, the works from the news junkets trying to get the story out of her. Not that it’s an on-slaught by any means, but it’s much more than she’s used to being in the spotlight. Then, she gets a call on her phone from a reporter.
It started off like most others. “Hi, I’m Dawn Winters, and I’m writing an investigative piece on the Buckley/Babbage case.” Already, Max hovered above the end call button, not wanting to deal with more requests for interviews that she was not going to give. But it was the next thing the reporter said that stopped that from happening. She hadn’t been asking about Max leaving her police job, or why the women were so hard to catch, or even asked a question at all.
Dawn simply said, “I’m going to prove their innocence, and I need your help to do so.”
The silence that hung on the line was so still that after a few prolongs seconds, the reporter spoke again. “Hello? Maxine? Are you there?”
Max shook herself out of her shock. “Yes, I’m here.” She cleared her throat, looking around the small apartment she now lived in without really seeing it. “What makes you think they’re innocent?” Everyone, _everyone_, who ever talked to her about Lola or Chelsea said they were obviously guilty.
A short pause came, but this one wasn’t silent. Max could hear a few papers being shuffled around before Dawn spoke again. “I spoke to one of the original officers on the case, Josh Lavigne. He was arrested, as I’m sure you know, at the same time as the women for aiding and abetting. He says they’re innocent and being framed. I want to look into that story.” Max had spoken to Josh herself, and she knew he would have said much more than that. “Records show you were on the case - that you were assigned to Lola in particular. You were so close to catching them and then suddenly you quit. Why is that?”
Max put a hand to her forehead. “We need to meet to discuss this better. Tonight, I’ll text you the address. Seven.” She clicked the end button, not bothering to hear if the reporter had agreed. Either she would be there or she wouldn’t.
So, at 7:03 p.m., Max and Daw were seated, drinks and food ordered, and not a word spoken beyond the initial greeting. They kept their silence until their food arrived. Neither moved to touch it, even as the waitress sat it down, said her pleasantries, and left. Once the waitress had made her way through the haze filled pub, Dawn leaned in.
“Okay then.” Dawn reached into the bag next to her chair, pulling out a note pad and a recorder, and a few thick file folders. She placed the recorder next to the salt and pepper shakers on the table, almost exactly between herself and Maxine. She pushed record. “I have spoken to both Josh Levine and Will Johnson on this matter. Both men were involved in some way with the women and their escapades.” She paused, looking at Max. “Do you know anything about them?”
Max sighed. This was supposed to be different. “I read Levine’s reports and I know what the news was saying. From Will, I only have a one-sentence statement.” She picked up a fry and smirked. “He said, verbatim, ‘They haven’t done anything wrong.’ Mind you, this is in a hospital bed that the women are said to have put him in. He says it wasn’t them who shot him, though. That he was trying to save them from someone else when it happened.”
“Yes, I want to get to that later. And Levine?” Dawn pressed.
Levine was choppy water. Max was silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “This isn’t public knowledge, but Levine’s files were not very helpful. Nothing in them that wasn’t in the women’s files.” She picked her words carefully, hoping the reporter was as bright as Max believed her to be. “They seemed to have been rifled though for this case. All his other files were organized in specific ways, but this one wasn’t. It’s clear someone was trying to hide something.
Dawn squinted at Max. Then she reached over as turned off the recorder. She sat back in her chair, eyebrows raised. “I take it you don’t think it was Levine hiding something?”
“I know it wasn’t.” Max didn’t offer to expand on the subject, so Dawn nodded.
“Okay, off the record then. Just for me to know. What did you find in the files?”
Max shrugged. “By the time I got to them, exactly what I said. But it seemed like someone was setting him up. There isn’t one specific element, but some of the notes didn’t look like the were from him. There were some things that didn’t make sense for him to have, regardless of his involvement with the women.” She leaned over, raised her eyebrows, and pushed record. | 1df350691b9340d09b27a89e14626659 | ['6eff14c30170491685639de8164bd46a'] | It’ll Be Fun, Trust Me
Chelsea raised her eyebrows hopefully, a grin on her face as she held up the two swimming suits - a whole piece for herself and a two piece for Lola - that he had just purchased. Her grin didn’t falter when Lola rolled her eyes. No, Chelsea knew that Lola wouldn’t be able to say no to her. After all, it shouldn’t be a big deal. She just wanted one day, half a day if she thought about it, where they could pretend everything was normal and they were just hanging out.
“You understand this isn’t a holiday,” Lola said. The bite in her tone was dulled by her taking the swimming suit. “We’re still wanted women.”
It was always something with her. Chelsea sighed. “Come on, Lola. We’re in the middle of nowhere and haven’t seen another person in two days. Who is going to see us?” She turned and went to her side of the bedroom, which was only two steps away from where she had been before, and started changing. “It’ll be fun,” she said, not turning to see what Lola was doing. “Trust me.”
The lake was deserted, but from the empty beer bottles and the litter of cigarette butts, it was clear it was heavily used at nightfall. Chelsea led the way to the water, chattering excitedly as Lola watched her go. Lola was on high alert. This was probably safe, she knew. Chelsea was most likely right. But still, she had to worry. She worried about a lot, no matter how free spirited Chelsea said she was. Her train of thought was broken when Chelsea called to her from the water. “Come join me! It isn’t fun alone.” She gave a halfhearted attempt at a splash that would have never reached Lola on shore and giggled.
With a big breath, Lola waded into the water toward a grinning Chelsea. |
bc70e3bf08dc426caee9be405a0f9370 | ['6f23895aecd243e9b06934ca3845a551'] | The white-eyed lady behind the counter charges $6.99 for _Secrets of Haitian Vodou: Raising the Dead_ and knows nothing of how she just changed his life.
—
After a hurried stop at the grocery mart, Jensen races home and dumps his ingredients out on the kitchen countertop, softly humming while he rummages for bowls and mixing spoons.
In his own personal meat shop, Jensen the butcher hacks off useless chunks he won’t need and he slices carefully around the ones he will.
When the smell of copper and a slightly spoiled tang is so thick in the air he can barely see, his work is almost done. The scraps go in one pile, the rest in another. He wipes sweat from his brow, happy tears from his cheeks, and gathers everything he’ll need into his arms.
He references his library books while he works, squinting at the illustrations and fine typewriter print. The music on the radio is turned down low and he chews his bottom lip in concentration as he arranges all his pieces like a puzzle on the living room floor.
Most of Dave, a little Ricky, couple bits of Joey and a fragment of Annabelle to top it off.
—
“The head bone’s connected to the – neck bone. The neck bone’s connected to the – back bone…”
He has to full-body resist from swaying around his living room in a joyful dance of what’s to come.
And that reminds him. He’s going to have company in a while, he'll need to tidy up soon.
—
When the majority of his masterpiece is sewn complete, he plunks the last two bits — Ezra's glass-pretty eyeballs — into Ricky's scooped out sockets. And with the finishing touch in place, Jensen threads up the last of it and makes sure all the nerves and tissues are attached to the best of his abilities, sewn up just so.
Giving himself only a moment to admire his creation, he wipes the pink smudges from his lenses and retrieves his mixture from the sink, reaches for his special book.
He thumbs the pages until he finds the incantation it'll take to reanimate a corpse. He doesn't like to think of it as that, because it hurts. He'll miss his old friends, he very much will. But what he'll have will be so much more precious: a _best_ friend.
Jensen recites the words in a calm chant, stirs the liquid in the bowl and brings the rim up close.
With his insides banging up against the cage of his bones, he gulps in a mouthful of the mixture, swallows half of it, and leans in to press his mouth to the cold, dry counterpart of his sleeping one. He empties the rest between barely parted waxy lips.
Some time may be necessary, he imagines, and exhausted from the night's excitement, he scoots down to the floor and lays next to his beloved. Head on his chest, an arm flung over the thin waist. Jensen promptly slips away, the two of them slotted together like an inexorable, pre-matched fit.
—
Ten hours from the time he shut his eyes, Jensen wakes to find himself curled on the hard, uncomfortable floor. And something feels different. He doesn't stretch and twist or rub out any leftover sleep from his face but he knows it all the same – something _is_ different.
Everything.
For a moment, Jensen questions whether or not the man can see him. If those colorful eyes watching him inquisitively function better than his own useless pair, if he'd done the job in putting him together all the way, and he's scooting back to blindly grope around for his glasses when two long arms snake out towards him, huge hands reaching out for him.
Jensen's friend is bruised up sporadically, dried bits of blood crusting at his seam lines. He looks like the aftermath of a fatal car crash. He's so fucking gorgeous.
Jensen Ackles, who's never voluntarily embraced another, can't help himself from lunging forward and hugging the body for the very first time, holding on too strong and too much and so fiercely possessive his eyes are clamped tight to hold the stinging wetness in.
It leaks out anyway. When his friend hugs him back, the icy fingertips feel almost warm.
—
At first, Jensen doesn’t know what to call him.
Secretly, in his head, he thinks of him in a hundred different ways and words Jensen's too shy to ever say aloud. But he can’t keep referring to the guy as Um, he just cannot. _Um, how do you feel?_ or _Umm.. are you hungry?_ He knows he has to decide soon, before Um starts believing that’s really his name.
When it comes to him, Jensen thinks of it as a sort of tribute, a sweet homage to what the others have given him.
He’s at his desk one evening, scribbling out his brainstorms and striking them out as he goes, frustrated, his beautiful one watching some small movement out the window with a curiously tilted head, when the whole thing works itself out.
Jensen borrows a letter from each of his comrades – D, E, A, R, J – scrambles them up, rearranges them until something slots into place and tries the shape of it out between his trembling lips.
“Hey... Jared?” he says, hands shaking when he puts the pen down.
The boy in the window turns to meet his stare and Jensen's belly goes warm with butterfly flaps.
—
Jared doesn’t say much by way of conversation.
He doesn't actually say a thing.
Deep down, Jensen knows he messed something up, severed a vocal chord during his grim cross-stitching most likely. Or maybe they'd never have worked at all. | 8a18dfc6f4ff4ca48eefe581504c2fb1 | ['6f23895aecd243e9b06934ca3845a551'] | Not fat. _Not_ fat. Just a lean mass of muscle and height and he towers over everyone in the room — Jensen included, which doesn't happen to him all that often. Six feet when he’d gone in, according to booking, and Jensen hadn’t quite counted on the fact that maybe Padalecki hadn’t been done growing just yet.
“So hey,” Jensen says to Padalecki’s C.O. buddy when they’re leaving the tiny room. “Question.”
The guard gives him a side eye but he doesn’t protest so Jensen takes it as a green light.
“What was all, you know—“ Jensen mimics Padalecki's completely unsubtle cheek scratch, “—that about?” Not that he'd spent the second half of the interview almost morbidly curious about it.
The guard doesn’t rumble off a laugh again but it looks like he wants to, traces of a sly smile slithering at the edges. He shrugs, stays looking straight ahead. They keep walking. “Kid’s birthday today,” he says, almost tender, after a minute's gone by and Jensen's given up on an answer, mentally jotting down self-reminders to check Google later. Like it matters. Like it _does_.
“Oh yeah?”
“Guess he thought you might be his gift, something.”
Jensen misses a step. “He—what?” But then yeah, okay, it makes sense - being paroled _is_ a gift, he gets that. And then, “This means ‘gift’?” He scratches his cheek again. It's an interesting language.
That time, C.O. does grin. Just a little.
“Nah." He waves Jensen back on through, but not before giving an obvious onceover to Jensen’s crisp white button down, still a little soaked through in parts. “Prostitute.”
-
Rifling through pages of reports looking for any little indication he might have glossed over is a waste of time. Clicking around on the computer doesn’t prove to be much better. He does the next best thing and picks up his phone.
“Infirmary,” he says, before a quick click and he's transferred.
It’s not a long phone call. They're very helpful and confirm his suspicions. No sickness, no tumors. Just brutality. Padalecki was attacked with a homemade shiv by his old cellmate, one night when he was sleeping. Emergency surgery and thirty-seven stitches, but he pulled through. Even taught himself a new means of communication later, aided by a stack of books from the library and a mountain of patience. Smart. Persistent. Nearly died, but didn’t. Just his voice.
Padalecki was just a teenager the day he stopped speaking. For a moment, Jensen wonders what his last words might have been.
-
The next time he visits the prison, Padalecki gives him a polite nod, then abruptly turns to the guard and does something twirly with his fingers, shoving the sides of his hands down against the table. The guard cracks a smile. Jensen does not.
He’s wearing a perfectly respectable vest over his button down this time, on purpose, nice and covered up; knows for sure he doesn’t come across as some wet t-shirt contestant. He hates not being taken seriously, even by a guy thrown in for two counts of involuntary manslaughter. They get right down to it and Padalecki doesn’t pull any more funny shit. The meeting goes much quicker.
After, he checks Google on his phone anyway.
-
On the third visit, he’s wearing a tie and his old wireframes that he hates. Even his mom says they make him look like an accountant. His eyes are itchy as fuck, he’s irritable and he doesn’t have time for anyone’s shit.
So as soon as Padalecki makes to privately insult him, Jensen flaps a hand in the air viciously hard, jabs a finger at Padalecki and makes a little upward circular gesture with a thumb and index .
For a second, Padalecki just looks sincerely stunned – and confused. Then he tosses his head back and a little huff of a sound comes out, and it’s obvious he’s laughing really, really hard. Jensen can see the smooth raised line of a long, crooked scar stretching down one side of his throat, long since healed and utterly painful to look at.
“I’m not a stripper,” he says, pissy, to distract himself.
Padalecki pretends to wipe at his eyes in mirth.
“Or a hooker,” Jensen thinks to add.
Padalecki pretends to wipe at his eyes in disappointment.
Jensen makes the little circular gesture again, just because. Padalecki’s not the only one who can self-teach. He only knows a few terms so far, but Jensen thinks _hey, you’re an asshole_ was a spectacular find. And so far, something he's sure he’ll get a lot of use out of. Little over a month and Padalecki will be out of his fishbowl.
-
October brings their last visit before the prisoner’s release and they spend the entire hour cramming through the last of the information together. Padalecki’s translator is still there, like always, and she helps them communicate things not easily expressed through oversimplified motions and one non-fluent party. Still, they’re needing her less and less, which is good, because she’s provided by the state and she won’t be around when Padalecki gets shoved back into civilian status.
Three months of continual correspondence and a tallied string of successful meetings, Jensen has a good feeling about this one. Padalecki doesn’t have a violent past and according to the psychologist’s evals, isn’t all that aggressive either. He doubts Padalecki will slide back and land himself here again.
“You remember everything we talked about, right? You’re not gonna forget?”
Padalecki rolls his eyes, scuffles a few words out in understanding, basic stuff – _bus ticket, money, Jensen_ (a made up combination for uptight-pornstar that Padalecki had thought was just _so_ funny) – and nods. He’s nonchalant, but overly so, and Jensen can tell he’s bursting with excitement. |
fbb9c61b283c484289f09b0ec89702ec | ['6f2e8569ff48473099a409445bfac71d'] | It takes Yeowool a good few hours to even as much as stir. It’s already dark outside when he finally blinks back into consciousness, alerting Hansung who’d been hanging around just in case something happened. He still doesn’t look good per se - his skin is a little too pale, too drawn, and the crusted paint on his skin looks like it might take time to scrub off, but he doesn’t seem to be as much near death, at least. It’s really a wonder what a couple hours of sleep can do for a person.
“Hansung?” Yeowool grumbles into mouthful of pillow and shifts upwards, trying to take in his surroundings. “What happened?”
“You walked into a glass door and then passed out on me,” Hansung tells him, his phone forgotten as he scoots his chair closer to his bed that he’d decided to lend Yeowool for the day. “You really worried me, you know? Like one day you’re fine, the next you walk into here like you’ve been stabbed and you’re about to die, and…” He’s aware that maybe his voice is sounding a bit petulant, or even whiny, but frankly? He just got scared halfway into the grave by Yeowool, so if he wants to express his displeasure, then he damn well can.
Yeowool blinks at him, sort of owlishly, and then runs his hands through his hair. He looks kind of defeated. Maybe Hansung shouldn’t have chewed him out this much.
“Right… I had a deadline today,” Yeowool says, or more accurately grumbles, into the palms of his hands. “There was this big project, and I had to fix about half of it in less than two days, so there really wasn’t time for sleep or anything.” He sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose, and ah, Hansung thinks, that explains the shadows under his eyes and the messy hair. Of course.
“I was about to go home, but I wanted to stop by,” Yeowool admits, shoulders raised in some kind of permanent half-shrug, “to talk, maybe buy flowers for myself to celebrate finally being done, you know.”
“Probably should have gone home instead,” Hansung says, and leans forward to flick Yeowool’s cheek, which ends in him flinching back and looking scandalized. Hansung decides he can’t take him seriously with the bird’s nest he calls hair falling in his face, though.
“Well, excuse me for wanting to check up on you.”
“Yeowool, I’m fine. You should have checked up on yourself? Or just gone home. Please go home next time.”
What comes out of Yeowool’s mouth next is nothing short of an actual whine. Hansung is actually sort of impressed at his capability to be a human being instead of an angelic angel statue of otherworldliness.
“I wanted to ask you on a date now that I actually have free time again. It couldn’t exactly wait.”
Ah. Hansung looks at his hands for a moment. Flexes them in his lap.
So he wasn’t just imagining things.
“Well…” he tries, tentatively, and looks up at Yeowool again, who’s watching him with a weirdly hard to read expression, “wouldn’t you want to look your best when you ask someone out? Your nose is yellow.”
“I tried that. It didn’t really work the first twenty times, did it?” Yeowool shoots back, but there’s a smile on his face, and Hansung can feel a matching one tugging on his lips, so he’s not mad. Neither of them is. It would be pointless to be mad, anyway.
“Be a bit more direct next time. I’m bad at picking up hints.”
“Be a - how much more direct can I... “ Hansung outright grins as he watches Yeowool struggle for words, and leans forward to lace their fingers together. They look good like this, his own darker skin fitting with Yeowool’s blue-and-purple dotted hands.
“You should really sleep. I’m saying yes to the date, but I can’t carry you home if you pass out in public again. I’m not strong enough.”
Yeowool laughs, then, bright and airy, and pulls Hansung’s hand towards himself.
“Are you going to watch me sleep, then? How scandalous…”
“...”
“Hansung, I’m trying to flirt, give me at least something to work with here?”
“R-right.”
.
Hansung is proud of the life he’s built for himself. And ultimately, that means being proud of his eccentric, gossipy, slightly narcissistic boyfriend, and he couldn’t ask for anything better. | aa2b75e752114393a482dc5640de2c02 | ['6f2e8569ff48473099a409445bfac71d'] | “Your total is 13000 Won, and I can’t give you my number, I’m sorry. Privacy reasons. If you need any plant care tips, you’re more than welcome to stop by during opening times, though.” Hansung gives his best smile, the corners of his mouth stretching into their signature boxy shape, and doesn’t notice the way Yeowool purses his lips, or the mildly resigned look that flickers over his face. Instead, he simply accepts the money and pushes the pot towards his customer.
“There you go, have a nice day!” Yeowool takes the pot, cradles it in the crook of his arm much like he’d done with the orchid when he first came in, but makes no move to leave. Instead, his gaze strays to the left of Hansung, to where the glass bowl of sweets sits on the counter next to the cash register.
“Oh!” Hansung follows his gaze and reaches out to nudge the bowl towards the edge of the counter. “You can take one, if you like! I keep them for families with children, but there’s no reason that adults shouldn’t have a sweet tooth too, to be honest.” By that, he mostly just means that he himself can finish an entire cake in a maximum of two sittings. It’s probably not the best example to live by, but whatever. He’s a grown man, he can set his own priorities. Anyway.
Yeowool takes some time to choose a piece of candy, his unfairly elegant looking hand knocking the contents of the bowl around contemplatively. When he finally does fish out a piece and unwraps it, he doesn’t eat it, though. Instead, he leans over.
“Open up,” he says, and Hansung can barely open his mouth to ask what Yeowool is up to before there’s something touching his lips lightly, and then the candy Yeowool had picked out is pushed into his mouth unceremoniously. As Hansung gapes at the other man for… whatever that was, Yeowool simply retracts his hand, swiping his thumb over Hansung’s bottom lip as he does.
“I’ll see you around,” he says, raises a hand in a lazy wave, and leaves.
Hansung, however, is rooted in place and also trying very hard not to choke on either the candy or his heart that had apparently decided to relocate to his throat.
.
Hansung should really not be surprised when he sees Yeowool come by again the third time, and the fourth, and the fifth, but somehow he never really expects to look up to see him idling in between the roses and the hydrangeas, or picking through his stock of greeting cards. Sometimes Sooho tags along and asks for more arrangements for more girlfriends, and soon Hansung figures out that not even the fanciest bouquet in the world is going to save this man from horrific relationship disasters. He still makes them for him, though, maybe because he’s hoping for the guy that someone will stick, or maybe to have an excuse to glance at Yeowool in between shortening stems and clipping thorns.
Honestly, he doesn’t even really know why he’s so attached to the guy. He doesn’t know much about him, other than the fact that he is incredibly fashionable and sort of looks like he’s judging the entire world on a daily basis. They talk sometimes, when it’s late and the shop is about to close, when Hansung sweeps up the leaves scattered behind the counter. It’s not much, not at first - Hansung talks about his day at the shop, or a joke a friend had told him earlier; Yeowool talks about art and painting and what flowers he likes the most. It’s comfortable, spending time like this. So maybe that’s why he’s looking forward to his appearance at the shop, and why he starts setting some snacks aside for the both of them to share with the coffee that Yeowool has taken to buying the two of them.
During all the weeks this is going on, the visiting and talking and the potential flirting that Hansung still isn’t sure if he’s imagining or is actually real, he has never seen Yeowool look like anything less than literal perfection. It takes him by surprise, then, when he’s just minding his business one day and Yeowool crashes head-on against the glass door of the shop.
“I- Yeowool?” Hansung mutters to himself as he hurries to open the door, catching an armful of the man as he’s too slow to stabilize himself. Hansung tries to steady him, he really does, but the weight of a full-grown man is a bit much even for him, so all he has to show for it in the end is a bump on the head and the wooden floor digging into his back sort of painfully.
“Yeowool, ah, are you al… is that blood?”
Yeowool groans something incoherent, something that Hansung is not paying any attention whatsoever to right now because there’s red on Yeowool’s forehead, and on his cheek, and, oh, did he hit his head this hard? Shit, Hansung had never known how to deal with injuries, he still doesn’t, he’s such a wimp around blood, what if Yeowool passes out right there and bleeds out in front of him and he can’t do anything because he can’t look at even a drop of blood without feeling anxious and -
“‘S paint,” Yeowool mumbles before promptly slumping forward and passing out against Hansung’s neck.
Hansung blinks once, twice, horrified, and then catches a glimpse of green smeared on the back of Yeowool’s hand. And now that he looks at him more closely, there’s so many specks of paint all over his body and his clothes, there’s even some dried green in the tips of his hair, and Hansung wonders how he hadn’t noticed it before.
He also wonders what he’s going to do with the unconscious man on top of him.
. |
99254f2ff3b445949c7c9da01ccd8f72 | ['6f4265f4bbfd4a6cbccd52435aa9e455'] | Gerard waited until Klaus withdrew and pulled his pants back up, turning to face his lover. ‘Will I ever see you again?’ he asked, suddenly certain Klaus was going to disappear in a cloud of smoke, like an impossible daydream.
‘Of course, silly,’ Klaus laughed, clapping him on the shoulder, and winked, playfully. ‘You owe me, remember?’
Gerard nodded, grinning. Oh, I remember, he thought. As if I’m going to forget! He watched as Klaus put himself back in order, loving the way those black leather pants clung to his long lean thighs. Oh Jesus, he thought, how am I getting hard again?
Klaus reached into one of the pockets of his long patchwork coat and pulled out a readily rolled joint in a plastic baggie, and a lighter. ‘You want a toke?’ he asked Gerard, after lighting up.
‘Um … I don’t really … Sure.’
Klaus watched him attempt to draw back on the joint and smiled his lazy, sexy smile. ‘You’ve never done this before, have you?’
Gerard blew out a stream of smoke. ‘First time for everything.’
Klaus’s eyes widened. ‘Everything?’
‘Yeah,’ Gerard admitted. ‘Everything.’
THE END | 932f89e5ad554f5b89bf78e46194804e | ['6f4265f4bbfd4a6cbccd52435aa9e455'] | ‘Really, Crowley, do you think now’s a good time to get drunk? With the apocalypse so close, and we still have very little idea where to find the Antichrist?’
‘Oh, the contrary, I think it’s a great idea. Besides, you’re hilarious when you’re in your cups.’
‘Oh … oh well, far be it for me to deny you of entertainment.’
‘Angel; don’t get all huffy. I meant it in a good way.’
‘I’m sure.’ Aziraphale turned toward his drinks cabinet and scanned its shelves for a suitable vintage. Suddenly two warm hands were snaking around his waist, and Crowley’s lips were pressing against the skin below Aziraphale’s right ear.
‘Don’t be mad at me,’ he whispered. ‘It’s been a great day. Don’t spoil it now.’
Aziraphale closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing as the demon unfastened his trousers and slid a hand inside. He grasped the edge of the wine cabinet’s shelf, attempting to steady himself but almost knocking over a Grange Hermitage from 1980. Crowley’s fingers curled around his shaft and squeezed gently, and then a bit firmer. The angel bit his lower lip and buried his face against his upper arm. Was this really happening? Or was he going to be woken by his alarm at any moment? It certainly felt far more vivid than any of his other dreams. Smelled more vivid, too, with hints of citrus and woody tones. When did Crowley start wearing cologne? Seems he should have noticed this. It would have been a handy clue as to the demon’s feelings at the very least. He’d never bothered before. That was Azirophale’s thing, the whole metrosexual, grooming business. Crowley tended to throw on whatever didn’t crawl out of his laundry basket by itself.
He grew hard quickly in Crowley’s capable hand. Almost painfully hard. But then, men knew best how to touch other men, didn’t they?
‘Turn around,’ the demon whispered, and Azirophale, ever the obedient angel, did as he was told. Crowley had removed his glasses and in the dim light of the back room, his eyes glowed radiantly yellow, like a cat’s – or more accurately, like a snake’s. He took a step forward and pressed himself against Aziraphale, kissing him hard on the mouth, flickering his serpentine tongue against the angel’s more human one. The wine bottles behind them clinked and threatened to fall over, but Crowley threw a hand up and steadied them just in time. The other hand caressed the angel’s jawline and neck. Aziraphale’s own hands were frozen in fear and indecision and remained motionless on Crowley’s thin shoulders. He knew he was floundering, letting the demon take the lead, and it probably showed just how inexperienced he was, but he no longer cared. Crowley bit Aziraphale’s lower lip gently and ground his hips against the angel’s’, making Aziraphale weak with lust. Crowley’s fingers curled around his cock again … and then the demon dropped to his knees.
Oh, YES! thought Aziraphale, as Crowley’s lips and tongue proceeded to turn him inside out. This is the only way to spend the last days on Earth! Bring on the Apocalypse! |
cc9e732f1a1b4f959472f35aecf0ac46 | ['6f4b4913ba8643a2b8a0c4373042a3d2'] | The four thieves all ran towards him, hoping to overwhelm him with numbers. But Dentzak dove to the ground, flipping one of the men over with a low kick. He ripped his leather armor off and gored the man, leaving him in a heap on the ground with his entrails spilling out. Then, as the next thief came up over him, he stabbed him through the jaw in a smooth, upwards motion. He followed through with his arm, circling back downwards, so that his claws sliced this man’s neck open as well, from his chin down to his chest. Dodging the axe of the third man narrowly, he retaliated with another swing at the neck. But this one was better equipped, and Dentzak’s claws skidded across the metallic neck guards of his helmet. The next man swung his axe again, and this time the Khajiit grabbed him by the wrist. Twisting it, he loosened the man’s grip on the axe. As it fell to the floor, Dentzak brought the man’s arm up behind his back. The axe clanged on the paved road right as the man’s joints cracked loudly. He screamed, and the Khajiit casually threw him several paces away, face first into a large fir tree. The man crumpled in a heap and did not get up.
Only one left now, thought Dentzak. He turned around, and the last man was nowhere to be seen. Had he run away? As the Khajiit adjusted his eyes and looked around for him, he felt an arrow pierce him through the thigh, right above the knee. He roared out in pain and anger: an arrow to the knee? If this was the archer’s idea of a joke, Dentzak would make sure it was the last one he ever played on anyone. He cracked off the shaft of the arrow neatly above his wound, and his eyes focused onto the location of the archer. He strode towards him, in such a state of fury that he didn’t even feel the pain in his leg. The archer drew a short sword. Dentzak flipped it out of his hand in one mighty slap of his paw, taking out most of the man’s fingers with it. He then headbutted the archer squarely in the nose. The man collapsed, and the Khajiit fell on top of him as his legs gave out. The man wasn’t unconscious yet, although his broken nose was streaming blood all over his face. Not able to do much more, Dentzak opened his mouth wide, and punctured the man’s jugular with his massive fangs. He rolled over, away from the smelly Nord.
“Not that he would have bathed anyways if I hadn’t killed him…”, Dentzak muttered.
Then everything went dark.
*
When Dentzak came to, it was almost night. If anyone had come along the road while he was unconscious, they had left this gory scene undisturbed. He felt feverish. After all, he’d been lying half naked under the rain, in winter, for what seemed to have been several hours. He tried to sit up, and a stabbing pain seared through his left leg. He reached towards it with his right paw: the centipede bite was swollen and tender. Pushing back the fur around the wound, he saw that the flesh underneath was turning purple.
None of this was good. He was about a half day away from both Helgen and Falkreath, obviously too injured to make the way to either town. He grabbed a nearby axe from one of the men he’d killed. It was slick with blood but would help him support his own weight. He limped towards the other side of the road, where he pulled his clothes back on. Somehow, the inside of his cloak was still mostly dry, so he put that on, discarding his sodden undershirt. Already exhausted by the effort, he sat down with his back against one of the larger pine trees, and pulled his pack towards him. He wasn’t accomplished enough in medicine that he could safely pull out the rest of the arrow. It looked like it had splintered inside when he fell over that last thief, so he decided to leave it alone. His hand wound was ugly and worried him more. It was too late to suck out the poison, so Dentzak dabbed some ointment onto it and wrapped it in a bandage. He then drank the contents of a small vial for the fever and pain, washed down with a piece of dried meat and the last of his water. Perhaps losing his temper against these thieves had cost him more than he expected. He closed his eyes and sighed, unsure of what to do next. | 9f0af1973b2e44aebeb000bf34f88b00 | ['6f4b4913ba8643a2b8a0c4373042a3d2'] | Five hours later, Dentzak could have cried. The scholar’s prose was overly ornate, flowery to the point of suffocation. Reading the whole thing was more of an ordeal than he’d bargained for. He stood up, cracked his shoulders, and sought out the Academy kitchens for a short meal. Then, he made his way back to his small desk and pored over the tome once more. In the early hours of the night, he turned over the last page, crestfallen. The book was little more than the incomprehensible ravings of a scholar who Dentzak could easily imagine writing this in a cloud of skooma fumes. The Khajiit let out a beleaguered sigh. He returned the book to the Orsimer, wondering what he could do next. This couldn’t possibly be the end of his quest… He asked the Librarian whether he could think of any other books on the topic of prophecy, or dreams, or visions. At this point, he didn’t even care what kind of answer he’d get. The Librarian seemed to notice the Khajiit’s exasperation, he was even oddly sympathetic towards it. In the morning, he promised, there would be a couple more tomes waiting for him. Dentzak went back to the inn exhausted, but oddly hopeful. Of course, he couldn’t have found the meaning of his dream in the first book he picked up.
At the inn, his bed in the rafters was still there, but it was so cold tonight that he decided against sleeping there immediately. He sat in the quiet hall, where the embers of the hearth glowed gently while everyone else slept. What could he do to pass the time while he warmed up his tired body? He noticed a pocket-sized book on the table next to his. The cover was embossed with strange symbols he didn’t recognize. But the contents were in plain language. Too curious to resist, the Khajiit started reading the mysterious little book.
Dawn rose and the innkeeper was surprised to see Dentzak still up, seemingly dazed, with the book closed on his lap. He had seen Dunmer before but had never even heard about the adventures of the Nerevarine during the Third Era. The little tome, simply titled “Morrowind”, had taken him on an incredible journey through that distant land. He’d never given much thought to where the Dark Elves came from. Given that the Khajiit had been enslaved by the Dunmer in the past, that Dentzak could have felt compelled by the story was a testimony to its greatness. The description of the god Lorkhan especially stuck with him. This god, according to Dunmer beliefs, had been torn into two pieces, which made the two moons Masser and Secunda, and his Heart had stayed on the physical plane of Nirn as a powerful and dangerous artefact. Dangerous enough, in fact, to break apart the very fabric of reality. Dentzak thought about the blue figure from his dream, split in half with a hole where his heart should have been. There must be a link between the two. But he feared to imagine what was at stake. Were the moons under threat again? Would they disappear once more like they did during the two years of the Void Nights, throwing Elsweyr back into disarray? If so, must his people watch helplessly once more, waiting on the Altmer to find a solution? Dentzak wasn’t alone in his resentment of their chokehold on his country, and the thought of the Aldmeri Dominion once more parading as the saviors to a people they considered as little more than cultureless beasts made his blood boil with anger.
In the Khajiiti Pantheon, the moons had been born from the great Cat Mother Fadomai, and her daughter, the goddess Azurah, had protected the Khajiit and told them the secret of the lunar lattice. For, according to the Clan Mothers, if the moons were ever under threat, the Khajiit must be the best climbers, to set the moons back in their courses. Why, then, had nobody been able to do that during the two long years of the Void Nights? More so, Dentzak could not explain why his vision coincided with the mythology of a people that wasn’t his own. In short, he’d found answers in some random book laying on a bar table, but those answers created questions tenfold. Questions, it turned out, that required he find out more about why the Moons had disappeared over a hundred years ago, and why they had been “brought back” by outside forces.
It was still barely dawn, and the Head Librarian wasn’t expecting Dentzak until mid-morning. He went up to the rafters for a quick catnap, head spinning with possibilities. One thought was more jarring than any other: why had he, a no-name orphan of unknown parents and unrecorded birth, been visited by such prophetic visions?
*
Later that morning, Dentzak woke up with a start. He felt a little groggy from the lack of sleep but was anxious to deliver on his promise to visit the library before noon. Downstairs, the inn was bustling with activity. He was surprised to notice that Marielle was still there. He hadn’t asked on what business the Breton woman had come to Winterhold, but he was a bit curious now. She was sitting at a table with a burly Nord man with an increasingly strained smile on her face. Dentzak went over to say hello.
“Marielle! This one did not expect you to stay in Winterhold for more than a night! What a pleasant surprise.” |
7e0b5685f3ad494faa343a80f63ef5c1 | ['6f4e4e6b0fb34525bc3405abebdf2b88'] |
Open the Eyes
**Author's Note:**
> ***This story is originally posted on Fanfiction.net by leira0314, my other account there.*****
>
> This story idea poped up in my mind when I read some spoiler and Ed’s recent interview, then I managed to finish writing before GG’s comeback. This dream/reality choice storyline was inspired by Doctor who’s episode “Amy’s choice”. Although in my story, Chuck exactly knows which is dream. I appreciate reviews! Sorry for any grammatical/typing error, I’m not native English speaker.
>
> Visit my fanfiction/fiction dedicated tumblr blog/ http://leira0314.tumblr.com
Chuck woke up in his bed in Empire. He rubbed his eyes, wondering what happened to him. Last thing he remembered was car accident, blood, Blair with blood... oh my god. The memory hits him, he got panic immediately. Where’s Blair? Is she safe? Why isn’t him in hospital? Most of all, why he’s in his bed, as if nothing happened? Then he noticed something warm lied next to him, under the comforter. He flipped the edge of comforter withe trembling hand,afraid what to find beneath it.
It was peacefully sleeping Blair. He checked both- himself and Blair- to find out they’re not covered with bloods. Strangely, but they’re even not hurt at all. It looks that Blair is still deep in her slumber. They both are safe and sound, in his hotel. Chuck stared her sleeping face- which he hasn’t done for ages. The car accident, was that all dream? Was that nightmare, which Chuck’s fear of losing her showed him? What if they’re just being happily together......entire time. A thought crossed his mind. The whole thing from Hotel fiasco to car accident never happen, there’s just a twisted mind of Chuck, which goes sometimes too wild. He released a sigh of relief. He pulled her to his arm, put a peck on her head. He feels his eyelid became heavy, then he closed his eyes.....
*********************************************************************************************************
Next time he came to his senses he was in the hospital, as he suspected earlier. The only weird thing there is he is seeing himself lying in Bed, connected to various tubes, unconscious. Finally out-of-body-experience,great. Chuck muttered. In his yard several people are staying at his bed: Lily, Rufus, Serena, Nate- strangely, no Blair. A worst scenario came to his mind. No, it can’t be. He shuddered. He said it a lout so all of them can hear him.
“Where’s Blair? What happened to me? Explain,please!”
No one reacts. They keep staring at his unconscious body on the bed, ignoring him. No, they’re not ignoring. They can’t hear him. Clearly, without physical body it’s impossible to vocalize his thought. Shit, Chuck cursed himself. He can’t communicate himself with the other people without his body at all. Out of frustration, he tried to grab Serena’s shoulder, who’s standing nearest of him. His hands go through Serena’s body, as if she’s made of air....
...as Serena and the others disappeared magically. he realized now he’s in different place. It looks like a church. He sees finally Blair kneeing down in front of the alter, looked bit hurt but otherwise surprisingly fine, especially after such severe accident. Chuck relieved for the fact that she survived the incident, which lasted only until he heard her player.
“Let him alive. When he’ll wake up, I’ll accept the my fate. I promise. I won’t even dare to near him. I know I He deserves to live. God,please!”
Her desperate pray tightened his chest. He even can’t breathe properly. He know now she blames herself that her decision of run-off caused the accident, left him unconscious. All he wanted to do was hug her and tell her he’s OK, he is there. Only if he has a body. Still, he is trying to reach her. At the moment his finger reached at her, Blair disappeared.
The scene has changed once again. Chuck realized he’s standing in alter for second time. This time it’s well-decorated, unlike previous time. It looks someone holds wedding here. Wedding of Blair and Louis. He looked around him, only to find out that he stands between Blair and Louis, both in wedding attire- it looks like Louis about to read the bow. He felt like someone stabbed his heart. Blair looks breath-taking beautiful in her Vera Wong’s wedding gown, at the same time very sad. Or even miserable. Her eyes are too watery, the eyes are getting become red. If she’s not about to burst into tears from joy, everything doesn’t just make sense, Chuck thought.
This is nightmare. Chuck wanted to scream. If Blair married to Louis anyway, what was this whole incident around car- accident for? Why Blair doesn’t understand it’s not her fault? Most importantly, why she started thinking that being together with him brings him bad luck? It’s all wrong. Blair and Chuck means invincible, not tragedy.
Unfortunately, nobody can hear Chuck’s voice in current situation. He has no body.
A surrounding has rapidly changed, as Louis finished reading the bows, the tears in her eyes were almost pouring down on her cheek. Chuck wanted to wipe it away for her, but he just can’t move. All he can does was just standing there like a idiot, witnessing all the history. He has no power to even make a tiny influence to the whole situation. So he clenched his fist. Hard.
She whispered something, no body made it to catch it- then suddenly she turned her back to Louis and started running toward the exit. On the way she’ve thrown away her bouquet, tiara, veil.... He saw the guests started to become panic at what they just saw, standing up. In the crowd he spotted Serena and Nate headed to the exists as well. | 3c7da26f962d4b849dcae672b74d35e5 | ['6f4e4e6b0fb34525bc3405abebdf2b88'] | “It’s no problem. It’s just a teacup. I’ll make someone to clean her up.”
She nodded without words at his words.
“Aren’t you hurt? You look...upset. Let me see.”
Nate tried to take her right hand, which is assumed hurt by sharp pieces of broken porcelain. Against Nate's reaction she sprang from his touch and hid her hand behind her back.
“No...it’s fine. A water is too hot, so...”
Cate pasted weird smile on her face, insisting everything is just ok. Men exchanged a puzzled glance to each other, but not pushing harder than that. She's acting weird.
A room service was immediately called by Nate, and the mess was cleared away. Two men sat again on the sofa, and Cate replaced herself on the opposite single sofa of two. She kept sitting oddly silent in strange position, as if she has something to hide from them. Ritchie raised his eyebrow at his sister's strange behavior, but kept his mouth shut.
“So...what do we do now?”
“All we can do is just wait til PIs find some clues lead to Blair. Until then, we can still look for some places she may be- I don't know, Her apartment, Dan's loft, some hotels.... But honestly, I have no idea. They're too obvious...”
He placed his hand under his chin to consider his options for today.
“Still, we can look for some places. Anyone coming with me?”
Nate suggested children. Cate shook her head.
“I'll pass....I'm feeling not good, You two go. I rather stay in bed today.”
“Alright. Ritchie?”
Ritchie cast a quick glace toward his sister to read her expression. She looks indeed not well, but it's something different from sickness. He briefly wondered why she was upset minutes ago. She waved her hand to urge him to go. As being pushed by her gesture, he finally stood up.
“I'm coming.”
“Great.”
Men left Empire. After she checked their figure disappeared completely from her sight, she stood up and went to the rooftop of Empire. She was repeatedly told it's one of her father's favorite place and the story attached to the place. She has been here several times in future, but she wanted to know how it looks like before. Chuck Bass has a thing for rooftop...the place always involves his emotion. Having too much emotion is an exact expression describes her right now. Unsorted emotions swirled in her confused head, which never occurred to her before, like sorrow, self-pity, anger and.....desperation. Her desperation to cling her endangered life. She was also teenage girl, no matter what she has seen and experienced as she grew up in UES. She tried to open the knob of the door to the rooftop by her right hand, after climbed the steps with gradually quickened heartbeat. She failed. Her face crumpled. She tried once again, but result was same-then she realized without the pressure of thumb finger it's hard to turn the knob. Finally she turned it by her left hand and proceeded to the rooftop. She closed the door behind her silently. Rooftop was empty, and it seems that panorama of Manhattan below her sorely belongs to her.
She held her right hand to the mild sunshine in the late January. She looked up her right hand once again. First half of her thumb fingers is invisible. The sun ray leaped through the space of her missing thumb finger to her face. She’s disappearing. She closed her eyes against the brightness. She felt a tear stream down to her cheek, which was not caused by brightness. It's not about physical pain she feels now. She feels nothing, and it's worst. She wanted to feel the pain, if it is proof that she's still alive- or she still exists.
Even they managed to crush the wedding, Blair’s still not getting back to Chuck. Where is she? Their mission here was to fix the history- make their parents reunite. Time bomb started ticking, and there may be not much time left for them. How long can she hold?
Her missing thumb told her the situation is complicated and difficult as she thought at first. If they keep failing - Sooner or later, her brother tracks same route of her- but still, she's the one disappearing right now. Her brother is two years younger than her, after all. Yet she just can't tell him about her “discovery”. Who's willing to give dying declaration to someone you care?
Is deconstruction of existence and death the same thing? Does anyone still remember her, after she disappears completely? Or will she be “wiped” from this world, from material world and everyone's memories?
Everything has its cost and you pay for it. Just because you failed once?
She never forget the moment when she first saw empty space where her thumb should be. It was when she tried to pick up that damn teacup, then everything went as slow-motion. In her whole 17 years life, she never thought the day came so fast- facing the death |
c5d20ab7054b4085936daba82d556a5f | ['6f4f5333e7ed42cabcaca1411fda3240'] | "Draco!" Pansy and Blaise screamed and they watched as his grey blue eyes slip closed. They tried to get closer but the vines lashed out and kept them at bay. They decided they would keep watch over the blond until whatever was happening to the young aristocrat. Outside things were far worse than anyone could have expected. The Dark Mark was over the school and Voldemort and a horde of Death Eaters and creatures alike were behind him. Neville and Aquaeria made it down the slope of the yard before dark chains busted out of the ground and yanked them up into the air, trapping them in midair. They yanked on their limbs, but they couldn't free themselves.
"Don't bother, they are made of negative energy and they are by anyone except for the caster." Voldemort chuckled and the two refrained Heirs glared at the man. " After what you did to dear Bellatrix, I did some research and found the most amazing things." Suddenly there were pulses of magic, strong pulses that shook the earth and caused the sky to darken. Everyone froze as a melody rang out with the pleasant chimes of cathedral bells. They watched as Harry's coffin appeared above them, extremely strong magic waves pulsing from it. As the melody came to an end, so did the magic pulses and everyone watched as ribbons of red, green, silver, and gold arched off the coffin and then came crushing back down, shattering the coffin into several shards. What was left was Harry and everyone watched with stolen breath as the boy floated down to the ground. His outfit had changed just like Neville's had, not only that, but he had sprouted wings out of his back. They were ruby and gold colored with silver tips and the wing span was immense. He was now wearing what looked like ballet slippers that wrapped all the way up to the middle of his thighs, the extra ribbon trailing back down to his ankles, a leotard without sleeves was the very under layer of his outfit, a coat with large sleeves that was red and lined in gold, it was very reminiscent of kimono sleeves and the neckline swooped from the base of each shoulder down to his waist, a black corset that came from the top of his hips to the middle of his ribs. It was decorated with silver clasps and the over skirt that flared out from the black corset was voluminous and was of heavy silk and satin that was red and a golden phoenix tail was designed on the back and it was parted at the front to show his legs. His hair was longer and was tied back in a simple pony tail. Perched on his forehead was a silver diadem with an emerald gem in the middle, also a golden tiara was perched in his head with ruby gems. The diadem was made up of silver snakes and the tiara was that of a golden phoenix, the eyes and at the tip of each tail was a ruby. He sunk down on the ground, knees meeting the soft grass and feathers floated around him softly giving the boy an ethereal look to him. His head was bowed and his eyes were unfocused as he stared at the ground.
"He hasn't fully awakened yet." Neville said with a gasp and he renewed his fight to get free.
"Well, well, well." Voldemort chuckled as he looked at the boy who had opposed him for all of his life. He would enjoy destroying this vision of hope and beauty, it was a pity really. "Such a pity to destroy such a beautiful creature, but I can't have you existing and opposing me any longer. Good bye, Harry Potter." Voldemort then drew his wand and started to chant. Aquaeria gasped as she recognized it and frantically looked to Harry but her eyes widened as she took in the flower that had sprouted up in front of Harry. It was a lily, but as it hadn't bloomed yet, she didn't know what color it would be.
'Please be white, please be white!' She chanted inside of her mind as she watched as Harry reached out to the blossom and she watched as it bloomed. With a cry of happiness she sagged in the chains in relief. Delicate white petals spread open and one grazed Harry's fingertips. The ground shook again and many vines burst out of the ground and entangled all of Voldemort's men and creatures and the vines pulsed with an orange light. The men cried out that they couldn't move and they couldn't break free. Voldemort ignored him and released his spell, a black vortex shot towards Harry and everyone screamed out. In a blink of an eye a figure appeared in front of Harry and thrust out a hand.
"Lily!" A giant lily materialized in front of the figure and opened it's petals and absorbed the spell before breaking apart and floating off. Voldemort looked aghast as he watched as hi spell was absorbed like it was nothing by a giant flower. He looked at the figure in front of him and a sneer cut across his face as he realized who the figure was.
"Draco Malfoy, what a pleasure." He gritted out and he clenched his fists. Draco stood in front of them wearing a white leotard with no sleeves and thigh high white boots. The over skirt was off center, the highest part over his left hip and it's lowest point was halfway down his right calf, the skirt looking like it was made of lily petals. His hair was longer, now reaching all the way down to the ground and was braided. On his head sat a flower crown made of lilies. All in all he was a vision of white and purity and serenity. | 82267be39ada4745be81bf048034c842 | ['6f4f5333e7ed42cabcaca1411fda3240'] | On the couch Jack was laid out on the cushions, shirt ripped open and bra pulled down, skirt rucked up and panties were ripped and laid on the coffee table. Her leg that was on the ground had a boot on and the other was up in the air. Yusei was in between her legs, pants pulled down and cock burried in her pussy. He was bare chested and was glaring down at Jack as he roughly thrusted into her. Jack was gasping and panting, her hands were gripping his biceps.
"Yu-yu-Yusei! So deep!" She called out, pleasure enveloping her voice and her eyes were trying to roll up into the back of her head.
"Mine! Mine! You are mine Jacqueline, you will not leave me again! You will stay here!" He growled out viscioiusly and took her hands and pinned them above her head and with the new angle left her screaming.
"Yours! Yours! I won't leave! Yusei, cumming, I cumming!" Screaming their audiance watched as Jacqueline squirted and her body convoulsed. Yusei growled and kept slamming into her, milking her through her orgasm. He didn't stop even after her body went slack under him, however she kept moaning. He let her arms go and grabbed her hips and angled them again before continuing.
"I need you here! You aren't leaving me again! You can't! Not when I love you so much!" Yusei yelled at her and Jacqueline's focus snapped back to reality. She reached her arms up and circled them around his neck and pulled him down to her.
"I love you too Yusei." Her voice was hoarse from screaming and his eyes widened before scooping down and kissed her as they both came to a climax. Sitting back he looked down at his Jacqueline, how beautiful she looked, and smiled at her as he watched her eyes slip shut.
"I AM NOT CLEANING THAT UP!" Crow yelled as he passed through the living room, slapped Jack's completed deck on the kitchen counter and stormed upstairs. Trudge and Blister turned around and exitted and so did Bruna, tears running down her cheeks. Yusei sighed and looked down at the woman before pulling out of her and slipping his pants back up. He picked her up and took her upstairs and laid her down on the bed. He undressed her and cleaned her up before tucking them both under the sheets.
The next morning found Yusei cleaning the couch and Jack sitting at the kitchen island and looking through her deck and she smiled as Crow came up the stairs, back from his deliveries.
"Thank you Crow." He grunted and his face had a bit of a flush but otherwise went about his business. The next few days went by and everything settled down back down to how they used to be. The only thing that was different was different was that Akiza was coming over more and spending that time with Jack. The boys didn't know what was going on and finally they realized that Jack was teaching Akiza how to ride a D-wheel. Later that night after Akiza went home and at the dinner table Crow brought it up.
"Why are you teaching Akiza how to ride a D-wheel?" Jack gave a hum, telling him she had recognized his question and turned back around to both Yusei and Crow who were looking at her with confusion. She looked at them with a blank face and then with a smirk.
"Because it will be extremely dangerous for me to drive my D-wheel while still pregnant." She then kissed a stunned Yusei on the cheek and headed upstairs. He looked down at his food before a grin broke out on his face and he looked at Crow when he cleared his throat.
"You do know that if you don't somehow marry her before she gives birth, Martha will beat you to a pulp, favorite son or not." Yusei's face took a horrified look and Crow smirked before saying his good nights and went up to bed. Jacqueline stripped down and looked at herself in her new mirror. She smiled at her reflection and ran her hand over her small baby bump. She finally had a place, here by Yusei's side and she couldn't be happier. |
c3255624da2948a989381994f53c54d4 | ['6f6ff8b7abe144699e58567d9257f4b4'] | Without lowering his hand, Wei WuXian took another step forward.
“A-Ning,” he said softly.
Wen Ning opened his eyes and stared warily at Wei WuXian's hand. And he didn't step away as Wei WuXian came closer. As awful as he felt, the need for comfort must've been greater.
Wei WuXian stopped just before he entered Wen Ning's space, his outstretched hand still offered. Wen Ning stared at it warily, but he looked like he wanted to reach out as well.
"If you weren't you, would your family still be as warm and open as they are?" Wei WuXian started. "Would A-Yuan still try to play with you? Would he ask for hugs? He knows what regular puppets are like. I think they would have noticed by now, hm?"
Wen Ning head lowered, seeming to not want to admit that felt right.
"I won't question whether Wen Qing would know." Wei WuXian continued with a sad smirk. "I'm sure for a while there I could have told her your consciousness had transferred to a lump of dirt and she would have loved it."
Wen Ning flinched at his words, though his eyes were still glued to Wei WuXian's hand.
"But I didn't have to do that to her." Wei WuXian said gently. "Because it's you that's back."
Wen Ning glanced up and met Wei WuXian's eyes for the briefest of moments before his gaze was on the ground.
Wei WuXian stayed still, his hand never wavering.
"My mind…seems controlled…." Wen Ning admitted. "But...open to influence.
Wei WuXian made a mental note of those observations, but hummed to encourage Wen Ning to keep going.
"It's... it's my body." Wen Ning said, voice barely more than a whisper. "I can move it, but only with great effort. And when I do move, I move too much or I don't move right."
Wei WuXian wanted to sigh, wanted to cry, wanted to hold Wen Ning in his arms and tell him they all still loved him. But if he moved now, there was a chance he would do more harm than good.
"A-Ning you were dead." Wei WuXian said gently. "Do you think being reborn is an easy thing?"
Wen Ning continued to stare at Wei WuXian's hand.
"Your muscles aren't the same, your senses aren't the same. But what is the same is your mind." Wei WuXian told him. "Your heart might not beat anymore, but it's still the same. Feeling awkward in your body happens to everyone, you just have to do it again in your 20s. Enough practice and you'll be able to regain control."
Wen Ning's expression turned from fearful to hopeful.
Wei WuXian motioned with his hand, encouraging Wen Ning to take it. "Do you think any of us will let you do this alone?"
Wen Ning finally looked up into Wei WuXian's eyes.
"I brought you back, but my job isn't done." Wei WuXian assured him. "I'm going to keep helping you adjust. I'm not going to abandon you all. I'm not going to abandon _ you _."
Wen Ning's lower lip began to tremble in it's awkward and stuttering way.
Wei WuXian stayed still. Wen Ning had to make the next move.
After the two stood there for a few silent moments, Wen Ning finally placed his hand in Wei WuXian's.
"There you are." Wei WuXian said gently with a smile.
Wei WuXian clutched Wen Ning's hand tightly with both of his own and Wen Ning took a step towards him.
"Young Master…." He whispered, voice trembling.
"A-Ning." Wei WuXian said softly, smiling at him. "Can I hug you?"
"Please."
Wei WuXian pulled him forward and crushed him to his chest. He whispered the other man's name over and over, running his hands over his back. They clung to each other, creating a safe and comforting space between themselves.
After a few comforting minutes, Wei WuXian pulled back and placed his hands on Wen Ning's face, cupping his cheeks.
"I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you." Wei WuXian told him, tears in his eyes as he remembered how they had found Wen Ning with the protection charm Wei WuXian had made him clutched tightly in his dead hands. "I'm so sorry."
"You didn't know I had been sent to a work camp." Wen Ning said, always trying to soothe him. He raised his hands to grip Wei WuXian’s wrists. "What could you have done before jie found you?"
Wei WuXian shook his head, unsure of how to answer him. "A-Ning, can I kiss you?"
Wen Ning looked nervous again. "You… You still want to?"
"It's you, why wouldn't I want to?" Wei WuXian responded.
Wei WuXian began to tug his face closer and Wen Ning let him, eyes falling closed and lips gently parting as he was tugged.
Wei WuXian kissed him softly at first, lips gently caressing his. Wen Ning let out a whimper and Wei WuXian deepened the kiss. He ignored the chill and the stiffness of the other man's lips, purely relishing in the fact that he _ could _ kiss Wen Ning at all.
His hands moved tenderly across Wen Ning's cheeks and into his hair as Wen Ning began to kiss him back.
Wei WuXian pressed their foreheads together as he smiled gently against Wen Ning's lips. "You're back. Thank the heavens you're back."
Wen Ning's grip tightened on his wrists. It was almost painful as the other man didn't know his strength yet, but Wei WuXian remained quiet, leaning back in as Wen Ning tilted his chin up to kiss him again.
They stood there together for a long time, kissing softly and sweetly, reacquainting themselves with each other. Their hands wandered with gentle movements, hoping to brush away the weight of what had become of them. Together they were safe.
When they finally parted, the rain outside had picked up, splashing into the entrance of the cave. Wen Ning held Wei WuXian's hand as he looked outside warily.
Wei WuXian opened his mouth, about to suggest Wen Ning just stay when a loud crack of thunder rattled the mountain. Wen Ning jumped at the sound and Wei WuXian's decision was made. He pulled Wen Ning back into his arms, chest against the other man's back. He leaned his head against Wen Ning's.
"A-Ning," he said softly. "Stay tonight."
Wen Ning turned his head and looked up at him. "Would that be okay?"
Wei WuXian smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I offered, silly."
Wen Ning nodded quickly. "I'll stay, Wei Ying."
Wei WuXian smiled at him and unwrapped his arms from the other man before taking his hand and leading him to bed.
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you for reading! I hope I fulfilled some ningxian needs. ilu! | 5d1b0456fa1b4b04a5d09437a25fccf5 | ['6f6ff8b7abe144699e58567d9257f4b4'] |
More Than Words
**Author's Note:**
> I was a little sad that in the Dorian romance neither got to actually say "I love you" so I wrote how I thought it might play out.
The first time is subtle. Aedan can practically taste the fear the in Dorian's voice as he tells him what would be expected of them in the Imperium. “You learn not to hope for more. You'd be foolish to.” It's a sudden rush of bravery, of wanting to protect, the need to see this man happy, that brings Aedan to say it.
“So let's be foolish.”
There is disbelief on Dorian's face and a small glimmer of hope shining through the cracks in his voice. “Hard habit to break.”
Wit doesn't always come so quickly to him, so he says it without hesitation, but with delicacy. “I'm good at breaking things.”
Dorian's smile is fragile, as if he's afraid the moment will shatter. “Hopefully not everything.” There's a relief between them as they fall back against the blankets again, a surety in their kisses; Aedan because the second time can't be nearly as embarrassing as the first, Dorian because he's allowed himself to believe this could be real.
*
The second time is all physical. They had both been shaken by the Fade. Dorian for nearly losing him, Aedan for being face to face with such horrors. The trip back to Skyhold had been numb and full of busy work with Leliana's agents with no time to actually talk. They do talk once they're back to the keep but Dorian is so focused on that book and Aedan has marches to be planning, so their conversation is kept brief. It isn't until they cross paths after dinner that they pause and take a good look at each other and hurry back to Aedan's quarters where clothes are torn, buckles broken, leather ripped all in the effort to _be closer_.
For those desperate and frantic moments they are connected, every inch of them. They are making love. No words are needed because they both feel it to their core.
*
The third time it doesn't go well at all. Aedan was only looking to spend some time together since they don't often get time alone these days. But Dorian pushes a book into his hands with a frown on his face before he can even get a word in. Aedan so rarely sees Elvish written he almost doesn't recognize it. _Ma sa'lath_. The words he says to the man in their stolen moments and when he can't contain himself.
“My only love.” He reads the translation aloud. He looks up at Dorian who looks more afraid than upset now. “What did you think I was saying?”
Dorian throws his hands in the air. “I don't know! A childish insult? That I was your best friend? Anything but... that!” He takes the book back sharply, slamming it shut and throwing it on the table, not looking at him. He paces back and forth in front of him.
“That? You mean love?” Aedan's gaze follows him while he moves. He's confused. Isn't this how things normally progressed? Shouldn't deeper feelings be expected? He'd told Dorian he wanted a relationship. He'd underestimated how inexperienced Dorian really was with such things. "Dorian, I do lo--”
“Don't.” The mage stops him. “Don't you dare say that to me unless you fucking mean it.”
“And if I do?” Aedan asks defiantly, his chin is raised and his eyes are set to meet a challenge despite his rogue training to disappear. Dorian turns to look at him, expression broken but Aedan doesn't falter.
“I need some time to think.” He says after a moment of silence. “Please. I'll find you when I'm ready.”
“All right.” Aedan says softly, not letting any emotion through. He turns and leaves so silently that Dorian doesn't even realize he's gone.
*
The fourth time isn't long after the third time. Dorian had found him all right. He'd come into the Aedan's quarters and kissed him without preamble. Before he knows it he is naked on his bed, writhing as Dorian pleasures him in ways he hadn't thought possible. Though to be fair he's never really thought about it before, not until Dorian had done _that_ with his mouth.
“Say them.” Dorian purrs, taking his lips away from his hot skin for just a moment. “Say those pretty little elven words for me.”
Aedan's back is arched, his hands are twisted into the sheets, face contorted in a silent cry. But he manages the words. For Dorian, he can manage anything.
“Ma sa'lath.” He gasps.
Dorian smiles devilishly before he moves a bit and does something with his hand and Aedan is pushed over the edge.
*
The fifth time is fast. They have to march. There is no other choice. In the stables just before he mounts his horse, Aedan turns to Dorian and pulls him close. There is chaos surrounding them and the world is quite literally about to end and Aedan has time to kiss him. Neither care who's watching at this point. They're scared and desperate.
“I love you.” Aedan says to him, looking him straight in the eye. It feels so final. They're frozen together for just a moment before a shout from Cullen makes them both blink. Aedan climbs onto his horse, face set, ready to die. He spares a glance at the man he loves before pushing his mount forward.
*
Dorian's time is after. The battle has been won, Thedas saved, party survived. They spent the following morning tangled together, their movements for once unhurried. The world was finally down to just the two of them with nothing hanging over their heads and it's... nice. The words are whispered against his hair when Dorian thinks he's asleep, as he should be, he's more than earned it. The light of the sun is slanted just enough so that the room around them is glowing and Dorian holds him close as he's about to nod off himself, not willing to let him go just yet.
“I love you.”
They're followed quickly by a kiss as if to cover up what he's said, but Aedan's lips twitch into a small smile and he whispers back "I love you, too." |
2a400b29b0da4f42bd0e6283a268a445 | ['6f8740c7428542d2bbd8ba56881c5e17'] | have you really been gone for that long?
**Author's Note:**
> hi! did you forget about me? you probably didn’t since I’m SO annoying. either way, I’m back with this lil thing. I think it will have three to five chapters so we will see. hope y’all enjoy :)
>
> stay yeehawing
Four hours felt like forever when you were stuck in an airport with a bunch of strangers as you waited for your spy-partner to get his ass from England to America. Owens plane had been delayed by four hours, and when Curt got the information he was already there waiting, so it would just be a waste of time to go home since the drive was so long. To keep his mind off things, he walked through the stores with no intention on buying anything. A few items caught his eye but then he convinced himself that everything at the airport was overpriced and he shouldn’t fall for it.
Slowly, the hours started narrowing down. It went from two hours to one hour, then one hour to thirty minutes. He may have even fallen asleep a few times when he didn’t pay attention. Finally, after waiting around four hours, they announced that the plane would be landing. Curt stared out the window at the long lane that stretched across the land, trying to catch a glimpse of anything that would match with Owens flight.
The arrival hall was filled with people as the doors started to open. Curt heard people crying and laughing, saw people frowning and smiling. He saw everything from large families to people traveling alone, even a few dogs. But yet, no Owen. Curt tried to climb onto the railing to try and find him, but the sea of people in front made it hard.
He stood and scanned the area, frowning when he didn’t see him. Was it the wrong flight. Eventually, the last person got off, and with a loud sigh, Curt jumped down and started walking to the exit. He probably just missed him, and it would be easier to locate him when they pulled back from all the people. His shoulders slumped together as he stood against a wall and looked down at the floor. The white stones that lined the ground were worn and dirty and should probably be replaced, Curt thought.
“Curt?” A voice in front of him said. He looked up from the floor and, well, there he was. Owens tall figure stood a few feet away from him. Curt’s face twisted into a smile as he walked over and gave him a light, _ friendly _ hug.
“You aged terribly.” Curt commented sarcastically when he pulled away. Owen snickered and brought out a water bottle from his bag. He unscrewed the top and took a few sips before wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his arm.
“Yeah, I can say the same for you.” Owen winked and started moving to the exit. “So, how long have you been waiting here?”
“Well, almost five hours.” He said, almost embarrassed. When he thought about it, why did he even wait for him? They were just… good friends, not lovers.
“Wow, thanks for waiting, love.” Outside was Curt’s car, so they spared no time on getting in. Curt noticed how late it was and bit back a sigh. 12:46 AM. He definitely did not have a lot of time to sleep, that’s for sure.
“Do you have a hotel to stay at?” Curt looked back at the Brit. He shook his head and straightened his back.
“I um, I was hoping to stay at your place, at least for today. But I get it if that’s not alright-“
“You can totally stay at my place. Do you want to sleep on the sofa or have a mattress in my room?” Curt smiled happily.
Owen thought for a few moments. Maybe this was his chance to have an actual moment to talk to Curt about everything.
“The mattress sounds great.”
***
Eventually, they got to Curt’s rather shitty, but clean, apartment. Curt seemed quite awkward but welcomed him in and got him some popcorn.
“Make yourself at home. I gotta go make a call so you do whatever you like, just don’t look under my bed.” Was all Curt said before leaving. Since he didn’t have a phone in his house, he went to the nearest telephone booth. There he punched in Cynthia’s number.
“Hey! What the fuck Cynthia? You couldn’t even get him a hotel? I don’t mind but you know what that boy does to me!” Curt spat when she picked up.
Shocked, she snickered before going back to her usually salty demeanor. “Suck it up, agent, it’s not like you have to go wank every time you see his face. Now I need to get back to this super important meeting. Fuck you.” Then she hung up.
Curt was left at a loss for words in the small booth. He muttered something under his breath before he started walking back to the hotel. The sun was setting, tinting the streets with a beautiful yellow. He couldn’t believe that Owen would stay at his place. It was like his worst fear and his dream come true.
Yeah. It would be a long week. | f64fc4470bdc4faa8808c3caf2705549 | ['6f8740c7428542d2bbd8ba56881c5e17'] |
Goodnight, Partner
**Author's Note:**
> this sucks but I tried my best. I really noticed that I suck at writing when I made this but I’m still posting it anyway lmao
>
> \- Alva
It all happened so very quickly. Curt didn’t even realize he’d been stabbed in the leg until a few moments later. He kept on fighting until a roaring pain erupted in the side of his shin. He yelled loudly and backed away from his opponent, hopefully letting Owen take care of it. He hid behind a car and ripped his shirt off to make some sort of makeshift bandage. He could hear gunshots in the distance, and then everything went silent. Owen came running to Curt’s hiding spot, finding him shirtless with a bloody bandage around his leg.
“It’s not as bad as it looks.” He lied as Owen’s face filled with dread.
Owen shook his head and picked him up. “Curt you just got _ stabbed _ . I’m not letting you walk on your own. We need to get back to the car.”
Curt winced as he was being scooped up by his partner, but tried to hide it in the hopes of Owen not noticing.
They walked out from behind the shitty old car, seeing the blood stained area and two dead men laying lifelessly on the ground.
“You really need to let me go, Owen. I cant let people see me like this! It’s too embarrassing.” He hissed, trying to convince Owen that he wanted to walk. He knew he wouldn’t let him go though, so he just settled on being carried by the taller man. He was pretty handsome after all…
“That’s out of the question, love.” Owen said back as they made their way to the car. “Besides, it would hurt a lot more if you put pressure on it.”
Curt rolled his eyes but stayed silent until they found the car. Owen laid Curt down in the backseat, hopping into the driver's seat himself. Curt watched Owens eyes dart back and forth at him through the mirror and for a second they made eye contact. Owen smiled but quickly returned his eyes to the road.
Curt noticed how the adrenaline started to wear off, making the gash very painful to deal with. At one point Owen took a sharp turn, making Curt’s leg hit the side of the car. He had yelled in pain and bit his tongue until he drew blood.
“How long,” he gritted his teeth, “until we’re at the hotel.” He forced out.
“Just about two minutes, love.” He reached a hand back and held it on Curt’s shoulder for support, though the action sent butterflies through his stomach. Curt’s face turned as red as a tomato and fortunately, Owen didn’t notice.
“At the hotel we have things to patch you up with okay? If it gets worse we need to call Barb though. I can’t have you dying on me.” Owen said as he pulled up in front of the hotel. He let Curt lean on him as he limped into the lobby. Owen got his key out and they went into the elevator, getting stuck with an old woman who smelled of smoke.
They got off the elevator and Owen fumbled with the door, eventually getting it open. “Here, put this on.” Owen chucked him a t-shirt, which Curt quickly put on. Curt laid down on his bed as Owen got a medical kit.
“I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but you need to take those off.” He gestured at Curt’s pants. “They’re too long, and I don’t think you’d appreciate it if I’d cut them up.”
Curt sighed and undid his belt, sliding them down his legs. He covered himself as best as he could with his pillow and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain of Owen putting some kind of liquid to lessen the chance of an infection on the large gash.
“So how’s your mum Curt?” Owen asked, clearly attempting to occupy him.
Curt bit his lip and tried to suppress a grunt as Owen wiped the wound. “Just fine.” He breathed out, looking down at Owen, who looked back at him.
“That’s nice.” Owen smiled, getting back to taking care of Curt.
After a long while, Curt was patched up. Owen went to wash the cloth he had used thoroughly, leaving Curt alone in the room.
He slid in under his blanket, feeling rather exposed. “Owen?” He said loudly, hopefully getting his attention, “I’m kind of thirsty and since you forbid me from moving, I can’t go get a glass. Could you be so kind to get me one?”
Owen came out from the bathroom and shook his head, a grin on his face. “Of course, love.” He said sarcastically and poured him a glass of water. He brought it over and set it on Curt’s bedside table. He knelt next to his bed and looked at him. “You should try to get some sleep. It’ll heal quicker that way.” He whispered gently, running a hand through his own hair.
“Can’t… I’ve hardly been getting any sleep and when I do it’s usually just for an hour or two.” He murmured in response. They were so close that he could feel Owens soft breath on his lips, making it impossible for Curt not to look at them.
“Curt we shouldn’t…” Owen ushered, moving away. A frown planted itself on Curt’s face, reaching out his hand to hold his.
“Nobody needs to know. We- we could live in secret. Just the two of us.” Curt stressed, scared Owen would leave. “At least just… stay here.”
Owen bit his lip but eventually sat down on the edge of the bed. “You know what would happen if this got out into the public eyes. ‘Two male spies get together.’ We’d get fired Curt.”
The room filled with tension. Curt wondered if he had ruined the chance of them having a relationship forever, until Owen leaned down and kissed Curt’s forehead gently.
“Goodnight, partner.” He whispered and turned off the lights. |
a010341c4f1e481a88389584b38f3db3 | ['6fa03e50ab5547ee9d3d40fd7b3cd6c1'] | But as the years had circled on, and as the King’s broken heart turned bitter with each passing season reminding him of a childhood absent from filling his hollow halls with laughter, he cared little for the ceremonies of the past. He cared only that his son lived. That he himself would live to see him again.
King Regis stared down the heart of the Crystal, his gaze as unknowable as the secrets he kept about Lucis’s oldest treasure. The Crystal’s pulse quickened, not unlike a nervous heartbeat itself. For a moment, Ignis wondered if it might be Noct’s heartbeat, growing more anxious as he approached.
He wondered if Noctis was just as afraid as all of them.
The Crystal’s beat grew faster and faster, a hum bumping against the back of Ignis’s consciousness like a headache behind the eyes. And the light of the Crystal itself was blinding, whiting out his vision in sharp bursts that culminated into one, long swathe of sightless white. He raised his hand to shield his eyes from it, like looking too long into the sun. And when he lowered it, blinked the spots from his eyes, and was able to see again…
There was Noct.
Ignis recognized him in an instant. He was so, _so_ different, but Ignis only really noticed that he was after the first glance. Because in that brief flash of blue eyes skating across his, meeting his across the white-out for just a moment before reality settled once more, Noctis was completely the same.
He wasn’t eight-years-old anymore, standing instead in lanky, eighteen-year-old skin that he wore like a coat that was two sizes too big for him. But Ignis still recognized the boy he knew in the wide-open blue of his eyes. The lines of his face were a little sharper now, more angular, traits from his father just starting to stand out, but there was still a softness to his cheeks, still a fairness to his features that spoke to a childhood not yet shed for the cynicism of adulthood.
He stood a little crooked, one knee slightly bent, narrow shoulders lop-sided and stiff, fists at his sides, holding tight to his disquieting calm. Pale-skinned and shaggy-haired, dark locks a bird’s nest tangle about his face, but though there was a wildness about him, a sharpness to his curious gaze left without blunting by the Citadel’s monotony, there was still that same wonder. Those same questions Ignis never remembered having the answers for during playtime, or homework, or just talking about everything past bedtime.
The King moved first, hobbling one step forward with his cane. His son’s name bled like an old scar from his lips. “Noct?”
Noctis tentatively stepped away from the Crystal, towards King Regis. He had an awkward gait, not quite limping, not flinching with every step like he was in pain, but his steps had a discordant rhythm to them, a heavier tread to one side that made it uneven. His fists trembled, like anchors straining to keep a ship from sailing away, and as he drew closer across the walkway, Ignis realized he was holding something in one.
He stopped a foot away from his father, drew in a reedy breath, and opened a hand in front of him. Offering them both proof that they were father and son, not a hopeless man and his hallucination. A token in his palm that only the two of them would understand.
It was a tiny, wooden fox. Chipped and misshapen with ten years of use, but a symbol they both recognized as clearly as they recognized each other.
King Regis’s cane clattered to the floor, and he embraced Noctis so fiercely, Ignis feared he might break the both of them in two. If not, then it certainly broke Ignis’s heart to see the King’s tears. Broke it even more to see the delicate smile wavering on Noct’s lips.
He was so happy to be home.
* * *
“Hey, Iggy.”
His voice was different, obviously. Lower, darker, husking through the afternoon umber of the sunset like campfire smoke through pine needles. And yet, the way he said it – _“Hey, Iggy”_ – greeting him with that shy brightness which transformed his older face into the memory from his childhood… it was all the same.
It had been days since his return that Ignis was able to request an audience – until he could bear to tear the Prince away from his bereaved father, so overwhelmed with gratitude for his return that it was as if he was grieving all those ten years at once, all over again. But as acute the pain of their separation was felt between them now, just as great was the joy in their reunion.
Ignis couldn’t take him away from that. He couldn’t take him away from any of them. Not his father, not “Uncle Clarus,” and not “Uncle Cor,” either – _especially_ not Uncle Cor; there was a katana through the midsection just waiting to happen.
Ignis was the last to reunite with Noctis. And it was just as well. It gave him time to reconcile the hollowed out feeling in his gut when all of his terror in the Crystal’s chamber had been carved out and dumped to the side in a bucket of relief.
Now, he could finally remember his manners; the etiquette expected of him in his position. He remembered to rise from his chair before the Prince reached the table, remembered to press his palm against his chest and bow, remembered to greet him as “Your Highness,” and remembered to put his comfort before his own – to pull out his chair, to make sure the sun-glare through the windows wasn’t in his eyes, to help him sit when he noticed the rigidity with which he levered himself down into his seat. Noctis gently waved off his obligatory courtesies, pressing himself into his seat and gesturing for Ignis to retake his own. | bc359eb310514307b634bb37fca874a4 | ['6fa03e50ab5547ee9d3d40fd7b3cd6c1'] |
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Originally posted on LINK for LINK A Valentine's bonus from me to you ;)
“You look tired, glaive.”
Nyx restrained himself from walking too fast towards Noctis as the prince appeared. Leaning in his bedroom doorway, dark flannel pants slung low over his hips with a loose shirt hanging from his shoulders, and watching Nyx approach with that come-hither look… holding himself back from thundering down the hall was the greatest test in self-control he’d ever taken.
“Been a long night and it ain’t over yet, Highness,” he said as he drew nearer.
“Why don’t you take a little break?” Noctis asked, shifting from one foot to the other, and Nyx had no idea if the rise of his shirt was intentional or accidental, but he was starting to fail the test because of it.
“Don’t think the boss would be very keen on that…”
“The boss speaks through me. He says take five.”
The instant Nyx was within grabbing distance, the prince hooked an arm through his and tugged him inside his room. Nyx was crowded against the door as it closed behind him, Noctis settling between the dip of his hips and trailing his hands up his neck to thread through his hair. He breathed a deep kiss into his mouth that unwound Nyx’s arms out of their default stance to fold around the prince. His hands wore familiar patterns into his back, kneading around his shoulder blades, sinking into the small of his back, making him sigh with pleasure and ease his body closer.
Noctis pulled away to grin impishly up at him before tugging on the collar of his coat and guiding him over to his bed. Nyx allowed himself to be lead, smirking at the prince’s emboldened initiative. Noctis turned him and pushed so Nyx could fall onto his back, landing bonelessly into the plush mattress.
“Feeling feisty tonight, Your Highness?” Nyx teased as Noctis climbed over him, crawling up the length of his body until he could recapture his lips in his.
“Just a bit.”
Noctis clutched his lower lip lightly between his teeth, his smile flashing in his eyes. It inspired a wolfish grin of Nyx’s own as he threw an arm around his waist to press him closer and kiss him ravenously. Noctis’s hands gripped his face in return, nails turning in the scruff of his beard before traversing his chest to work at the fastenings of his coat.
There was an energy to his movements that was different from most other nights. His kisses came with a molten urgency, his mouth turning and pushing and craving to be so much deeper inside of Nyx’s than he’d ever been. His tongue grazed at unexplored terrain, lapping fervently around his own in twisted combat. His knees squeezed tightly at Nyx’s sides and gave him the balance to impart a severe roll of his hips from low between Nyx’s thighs. Nyx’s breath hitched in surprise, mouth separating from Noctis’s and unintentionally inviting him to pepper kisses along his neck.
“What are we doing tonight, Noct?” he had enough sense to ask, glancing down at the firm body curved into him and biting down on the sound the image threatened to illicit.
“All of it,” Noctis rasped between kisses, tempting him with another roll of his hips. “Don’t you think it’s about time?”
This ‘whatever’ – as Noctis referred to it – that they had been daring to partake in had yet to fully venture into this territory. Noctis had invited him into his room various times when he was the solo guard on duty in his wing to kiss and to touch and to let Nyx’s hands wander dangerously low before the knight recovered enough restraint to wander back up. This was a road they had yet to veer onto.
“You sure you want to do this?” Nyx asked.
“I want you,” Noctis answered, his voice half a whine against his throat that made Nyx’s toes curl in his boots. “Unless… you don’t want to?”
The prince recovered himself just enough to clamber onto his hands to peer down at Nyx, desire and doubt darkening his eyes beneath the darker shadows of his hair. He gulped down on the need coloring his voice and blinked the fog of lust from his eyes, enough to look clearer at his face.
“We don’t have to,” he said, thinking he saw a denial in Nyx’s eyes. “I’m sorry, I just thought…”
Nyx gripped his thighs before he could pull himself off, swiftly rolling himself on top of Noctis and pinning him to the bed. Noctis blinked at the sudden change, taking a second to find Nyx’s eyes again in the new position. With his hair an inky black fan against the white sheets, his skin flushed with the want of Nyx, it was impossible for Nyx to stay composed, his lips twitching into a hungry smirk.
“I didn’t say no.”
“You didn’t say yes,” Noctis accused.
“I’m saying yes now.”
Noctis’s gaze charged with an electric blue spark, his mouth turning with an anticipation that Nyx promptly satisfied by engaging it in another kiss. Noctis was immediately receptive to the shift in control, sidling down a little lower around Nyx’s waist for the knight to press between his legs. The friction made his spine curl inward, giving Nyx an arch of space to curl his arm beneath and drag off his shirt.
Noctis fell back on the bed, arms sprawled over his head and stupefied by the quick divesting. Nyx leaned back to throw off his jacket and admire the expanse of skin beneath him. Shallow breaths buoyed his chest up and down, the pale planes of muscle lifting with expectation. The light ridges of his ribs shifted with every breath, the sharp cut of his hips straining up from below the hem of his pants. |
0da67fc7973c402e8df1ab51c01e55e4 | ['6fc81c40b637478bb9ae4370fc336111'] | The stern quality in her voice -- chastising, even -- causes him to pause and look over at her. To allow a huff of a laugh and a faint smile to ghost across his lips as he takes her in, on her back on the floor with pale hair fanned out around her like she’s underwater. But her reproach -- teasing thought it was -- has no weight, anyway; she can’t catch him, you see. He’s already caught.
To the detriment of all involved, he knows. Should know.
“Besides,” she continues ( _up down up down_ ), turning her own gaze away from the ball and towards him, a crooked smile of her own creeping along to match his. “I like the view here.”
His gaze shifts to something different, something hungrier. But he has no time to counter, to his dismay, before the sound of footsteps is heard on the stairs from the library. Lavellan cranes her head to see who it is: Dorian, nose in a book, walking with the pace of someone needing to talk. Or argue. Both, probably.
Well, this won’t do -- now she’s _outnumbered_.
“Solas, head down, will you?” she asks, with the sharp urgency of battle but twice as many words, and although this feels like a small surrender to whatever point either of them were trying to make, he does as asked; usually does, after all. And its good that he did, because the ball in her hand sails with haste over his head and lands, perfectly, on the book Dorian holds, knocking it out of his hands and onto the floor with a loud _thwack_.
Lavellan giggles, and isn’t it such a pretty sound?
“Professional as always, Inquisitor,” Dorian says with a dramatic, irritated drawl as he bends down to pick up his book, but the wrinkle-nosed, playful little look he gives her as he does tells all. Then, “Head down, Solas.”
The ball goes sailing back to her, the intent clearly _not_ for her to catch it, but she does. _Graceful_ , he called her once. He thought he knew better, now.
Up. Down. Up. Down.
6. From the Mouth of Ghosts // (DAI, Solas, past Solas/Lavellan)
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> prompted @ dragon-age.lj, but i was slow to put it up because i wasn't sure how i felt about it. SO IT'LL GO HERE.
>
> prompt: they can't recall his name. reference to major character death.
He sheds _Solas_ like a snakeskin late in the night somewhere along the Storm Coast. Takes a new name: something unknown, soon to be forgotten. And it isn't that _Solas_ ever was meant to last, it’s just that he thought it would be _easier_ , that the truth would fit better. But the first few days he finds the shoulders of it tight, and introduces himself still with _pride_ when the barkeep at a lonely tavern asks.
She eyes him curiously, like she might know him. He doesn't stay long. He never does, anywhere. Not anymore.
**
Years pass, the fabric loosens, and _Solas_ becomes a ghost. As do they all; the Inquisition were his friends, of course, but they were never meant to last, not like him. _She_ was not made to last.
(It isn’t that _that_ was ever meant to last -- hungry kisses and panting breaths and _love love love_ \-- it’s just that he thought it would be easier than this to let it go.)
**
And so, as ghosts do, she haunts him.
It starts small, while he studies in the Fade: hints of her laughter on the emerald waves lapping at ancient shores; glimpses of her outline just out of the corner of his eye as he pours over texts now lost to flames; the ghost of breath on the back of his neck, shattering his concentration and sending the letters on the page scattering into nothing but her name, over and over and over.
_Solas_ , she murmurs against his skin, warm, the voice of a dead woman speaking the name of a dead man -- the feel of her skin, the taste of her mouth, and the timbre of her voice all headstones in the cemetery he has left in his wake.
History forgets _Solas_. Was _meant_ to. But he will allow, however self indulgent, however sharp the twist of the knife of it is, for _Solas_ to remain for just a while longer, if only on the lips of ghosts. He owes her at least that.
7. Hands // (DAI, Solas/F!Lavellan)
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Prompt from dragon-age.lj, "Hands." Solas/Lavellan, post fade kiss, pre being adults and talking about it.
“Solas, I’m going to ruin it.”
Her plea goes unanswered; already he has put the brush in her hand and covered it with his own, the other going to her waist to guide her gently in position in front of the wall. “I have done all of the preparations; you need only stay within the lines, _lethallan_.” And she can’t see him, but she can hear the smirk in his voice. “Surely our illustrious leader can manage that.”
She makes an unsure sound, tilting her head to look at the outline. It _is_ simple, and small, and in a place where it could easily be covered by, say, a well placed picture. He has done this purposefully, surely, and they are facts that do not go unnoticed -- though she isn’t sure whether to be relieved, or insulted. Furthermore, she _did_ request the lesson from him. Came up behind him as he worked and coyly asked if he offered instruction in the arts. He’d been surprised, and then curious, and then, well, delighted. Pleased someone wished to learn his craft. | 255d8537b74842aea4067a2037029c76 | ['6fc81c40b637478bb9ae4370fc336111'] |
Stolen
**Author's Note:**
> Original kink meme post & prompt here:http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/12449.html?thread=48683681#t48683681
>
> I guess this is slightly AU -- I personally don't think even Josephine could convince (at least my) Lavellan to wear such an impractical outfit when she was supposed to be chasing down an assassin at the Winter Palace, so I set this during a hypothetical second visit, where no fighting would be required. Maybe the next day? I dunno don't worry about it. *waves hand*
>
> Enjoy!
The guest chalets outside of the grounds of the Winter Palace -- nestled in the further depths of Halamshiral but still close enough to the palace to be of ease to the nobility -- hold as much comfort and elegance as one might expect, Lavellan finds. That is to say: they are as if petite versions of the palace, small children birthed into pearls and gold and filigree; a stark, uncomfortable contrast -- especially to her eyes -- with the earth and trees surrounding them. Like jewels covering flowers below; like burls, cut and polished into something beautiful, and shiny, and dead.
Harsh, maybe; she’ll admit such thoughts to be biased. After all, one can only be called _knife ear_ and _rabbit_ by Orlesian tongues for so long, while standing on ground stolen from _her_ people no less, before one feels a bit like they _are_ the joke, rather than in on it.
...Or maybe it is something else altogether giving her such a sour, sad face.
“It was not noticed by the majority of the court,” Josephine had quietly explained to her in the coach on the way back to the Inquisition’s lodging. And although her tone had been even, subdued, and even sympathetic, it was not without a hint of disappointment -- the way one might be if their cake does not come out quite as good as they imagined. It isn’t the cake’s fault, of course, but after you have sent the cake on dancing lessons and etiquette lessons, have coached the cake on the Game, have dressed the cake in the finest clothing befitting of her station (even if the cake had _insisted_ otherwise), well…
When Lavellan had come back out of her thoughts, she had been met with Josephine’s practiced smile, and a pat on her knee. “We won’t tell anyone.”
Lavellan had snorted; as if that meant anything; Varric had been in full view of the whole spectacle! The entire Inquisition would know by morning, surely.
A perfect end to such an evening.
The moment the coach had stopped she had fled from it, as if under seige. Which, if she were to be dramatically honest, she’d felt as if she was -- the dress she wore, while both beautiful _and_ somewhat culturally sensitive (Josephine had, by request, carefully negotiated with the finest dress makers in Val Royeux to include a number of subtly elven characteristics to the gown, while still keeping with the current fashions), coupled with Court itself, was more physically taxing to bear than battle. At least in battle she was in control, calm, self-assured and confident; in battle she could flee, she could _breathe_ -- in this she could do neither, all of which had been evident...earlier.
She had sped her steps, then, as her cheeks flushed red once more.
But now, thank the Creators, she finds herself finally at her quarters; to her delight they are tucked back and down a different hall than that of the rest of her companions’, and are, blissfully, private. Though the latter point seems to be in question once she actually opens the door -- the room is dark, yes, but not entirely so. No, in the corner upon a desk is lit a small oil lamp casting ruddy, dark light across the walls. Next to it, reflecting sharply even in the dull light, is the metal of a mask, and -- just noticed -- the jacket of a formal servant’s attire, hung on the back of the chair.
A sigh precedes what seems like an announcement to no one. “You left me.”
From the other side of the room a chuckle emerges and, soon after, a form, lithe and elven and now comfortably back in more familiar dress. “I did not,” Solas counters, matter-of-fact. He walks towards her though does not yet touch her, not yet. Gives her space, keeping a polite distance as he studies her ( _tired, suffocated, now... brightening?_ ) expression. “I was relieved.”
She is listening, even as she pulls and tugs and manages to, inelegantly, shed the outer layers of her dress like the peelings of an orange. “Relieved?”
“Relieved,” he repeats, with a smirk, and then quickly offers to explain before her gaze turns even more harsh. “From my duties, as it were; the Court felt that the evening no longer required my presence, nor the presence of the majority of the staff. It seems the Inquisition did not wish to arouse suspicion by insisting otherwise.”
Lavellan looks a mix of confused, hurt, and impatient. Mostly impatient. “Okay,” she answers, taking in a deep breath. It doesn’t work. “It’s okay.” A pause; her gaze falls as if to think, before it snaps back up, expression pleading. She picks at the lacing of her corset, now exposed. “Can you help me?”
“Of course,” he answers, and without missing a beat he moves closer, placing his hands upon her tightly bound waist. “Turn around.”
It’s a request that she does without question, although he also guides her, and she places one hand against the wall to steady herself as Solas begins to unlace her. Deftly. Quite deftly, she thinks, and glances over her shoulder in an attempt to watch. “Have you done this before?” she asks, and if it sounds like disbelief in her voice, it’s because that’s exactly what it is. Apologetically, she adds, “Just doesn’t seem like an... _apostate_ kind of skill, is all.” |
11716e7c006244359dc004d23d9ddf80 | ['6fcabc27c88a4ba0831b99c910f15cda'] | scars
**Author's Note:**
> eeeeeee writing at school is hard ;-;
>
> Also each paragraph is a different person :>
He sat there staring at his newly clothed self, looking at the hero's garment that had been gifted to him by the spirit of the spring. He was scared a huge burden had been placed on his shoulders and he could do nothing about it he only wanted to save the children of Ordon village to return them to their homes. To save Ilia. Then he felt it the burning sensation that was spoken that the hero before him had experienced, he let out a yelp as the pain continued. Midnas cruel laugh echoed in his head. He carefully pulled up his sleeve and whimpered there burned and freshly scared on his arm were the words "BEAST".
Drip,drip went the blood from the hero’s side as it stained the grass a crimson colour. The hero knew he was in trouble going into the lost woods and leaving his wife behind was the worst decision he made the second mistake was entering his childhood home.The tree had warned him and he had failed to listen. He groaned and grimaced he didn’t think this was the best way to go leaving his wife and daughter alone on the ranch.He sighed deeply a pain slowly inching it was on his left arm.The old hero weakly looked were his previous scar had been had now changed. The last things he saw before his vision went black was the word “FORGOTTEN”.
He awoke to a beautiful voice telling him of his duty,to the broken kingdom.He was confused and dazed after coming out of the shrine that he had been put in 100 years prior to his awakening.Confused the young man found a old man camping nearby and asked him were he was.The man explained telling of a fallen hero and how he had died during a war 100 years ago.The young man pondered over this as a memory tried to form.The old man also talked about a marking that all hero’s had.He shook the thought away all he had was a scar that said “LOST”. | d91c59c1eab0414db18d9a5965c9cfda | ['6fcabc27c88a4ba0831b99c910f15cda'] | Mini fic
**Author's Note:**
> This is based on part of the manga were twilight loses his arm I thought what if Midna made him a new one with twili magic
“Twi what do those tattoos mean?”wild said pointing at the black markings running up twi’s left arm “they remind me of someone who left long ago.”twi replied after a moment of hesitation a cloudy look in his eyes. Wild saw and stopped himself from asking more questions. He didn’t want to upset twi.
The sun had set and the group had set up camp just like time had asked.Everyone had settled down after one of wilds hearty meals. They were all asleep except for wild he had tried and tried but the looming darkness played with his mind .He whimpered. As he felt a quiet thud as someone sat down next to him.Twilight. “It’s ok cub “he whispered, a strange blue glow lighting up his face.Wild stared in confusion at twilight looking down towards his left arm. The markings were slowly pulsating a blue glow.Wild didn’t question he felt a strange feeling of deja vu as he fell sleep to the pulsating glow.
“Nightmare”
The sword swung low onto twilights left arm cutting it clean off blood flying everywhere. Twi collapsed into the spring the bokoblins surrounding him.They cackled menacingly as they shoved his head under the water holding him there till he became life less. Twilight awoke in a cold sweat his arm throbbing,he shivered he hated those memories .The markings on his arm were a bad enough reminder but the nightmares drove him past his breaking point.He whimpered,he let his guard down for time was watching him closely. “Rough night pup?” Time questioned, eyes searching for an answer. Twilight couldn’t speak.He gave a small nod. Time gaze at him with a thought full gaze.They were all awake now listening to the one-sided conversation between time and twilight. "Leave him alone Time !!" Wild cried out in defence of his mentor, surprising his Elder with his sudden rudeness. By this time Twilight had quietly snuck away into the woods being careful about leaving tracks, he didn't want them to see him like this.
Is this what she wanted?twilight thought.His arm ached and stung as he walked through the trees the rising sun lighting up his path. His thoughts were now empty and void like just like he had been taught as he set a distance between him and the camp. He kept going and going ,his mind stayed empty he didn’t know where he was going or what he was doing he just kept going and going.
He stopped and fell to his knees cupping his right arm and started to cry silently. Someone had found him.Time.The old man had traced him for an hour or so watching him walk aimlessly until he broke down. He slowly sat down next to twilight making the boy aware of his presence. No response. “Pup?” Time whispered.twilight whimpered in response. “Oh pup.”Time said as he went to put his arm around the boy.Twilight let out a low growling sound and stared directly at Time his eyes oddly clouded.Twilights body morphed in his wolf form revealing that he was no longer there his eyes were bright red and his body black except his left leg which glitched and glowed. Time quickly got up and prepared himself this is not twilight this is not my friend he thought. As the wolf let out a low angry growl. |
ee608cd3d82444eb84b7f388aa8f1e8d | ['6fe1421ce3c340c18ebde70f574f3551'] | Later, when he got back to Karasuno and, for the first time, Tsukishima did not make any joke about the fact that Kenma had, against his own nature, forgot all about his games and was all curled up against Kuroo as they made out in plain sight. Fortunately for the security guard, Tsukishima too had his mind set on the kiss he’d made last as long as he could, before he’d sluggishly left his house, thrusting he’d find his freckled man right as he left him – safe and happy.
9. Inside out
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Where I finally put Nishinoya's past out there.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Alright guys, I'm sort of going through this writer's block and it's really hard for me to write anything. Soooo, I apologise in advance for this sucky chapter but I really didn't want to leave you without anything for (even) longer.
Nishinoya swore that if he heard one more person ask him if he was alright he’d honest to God catch fire and very likely blow up straight in that person’s face. Like sure, maybe he’d been quieter – and ruder – than usual, but that gave about no one the right to pry. And if he said he was alright, it was because _he was_.
Even if he weren’t.
About two days before, Nishinoya had realised he didn’t have enough money in his bank account to pay for his upcoming rent, and he’d already been late for payment twice. One more strike and he was out. So, all in all, Noya had two choices: move out or do the one thing he knew he’d regret for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, at every passing second, Nishinoya came closer and closer to go with the second, and worst, option.
Thing was, he _liked_ living where he lived. It wasn’t how big the place was, as, to be entirely honest, Nishinoya practically lived in a rabbit’s hole. It wasn’t even the location that allowed him to be at work in two minutes tops. No, it wasn’t either of those things normal people would use to qualify a house as good one. For Nishinoya what really mattered were the memories he’d made there.
For one, he’d just moved there when he first met Asahi about six months ago – talk about lucky charm. But it was also where he’d bring Asahi whenever he felt like cuddling. Where their first pet – a poor fish name Beanie – lived for his very short period of life. It was where they’d first got to second base, for crying out loud. He was _not ready_ to leave just yet.
Which brought us back to option number two – stealing.
You see, Nishinoya’s problem with stealing didn’t have the smallest thing to do with the fact that it was a felony. It was actually related to his past, that most were unware about. (Those that were? Daichi, whom he stole from in the past – talk about a good first impression - and Tanaka, his childhood friend).
The fact that Nishinoya ended up working at Karasuno had not been random. In fact, after having been caught stealing by Tanaka, Nishinoya’s best friend in the world had made him give everything back to Daichi and apologise. Oh, man, Daichi had been _pissed_ at the time. But, to both Nishinoya’s and Tanaka’s surprise, Daichi had also been quite comprehensive. He’d told the small man he’d get him an honest job and ‘set him on a straight path’ as long as he promised to never steal from anyone ever again. And he never did.
Until now.
Nishinoya paced his tiny room so fast that he was sure he’d dug a hole in the ground if he weren’t so light. As he walked he thought of just leaving and finding a new place. Maybe crash at Tanaka’s for the rest of the month. But then he spun on his heels and remembered Tanaka had been going out with Kyoko so he’d probably enjoy having his place free. Then, he spun again and thought that it was just a few days… But really, any way he looked at it, he just seemed to be making excuses. To be delaying the inevitable – that he’d been made for stealing, that that’s how he’d grown up and that’s what he was meant to do.
_But that’d hurt Daichi,_ Nishinoya told himself. _And-_
“Hey man what the hell?! I’ve been waiting for you for forty five minutes, what the fuck are you doing in there?!”
Nishinoya jumped in surprise as the sound of Tanaka’s voice sounded throughout his apartment. He’d completely forgotten he’d promised to help Tanaka pick up a present for Kyoko’s upcoming birthday.
“I’m in the bedroom!” Nishinoya replied, doing his best not to sound guilty. _Smooth. Acting like a criminal already._ “I fell asleep, I’m so sorry.”
Right then Tanaka opened the door to Nishinoya’s bedroom and found the whole mess inside. The unmade bed, the pillows, the clothes all in a pile as Noya had tried to search for the smallest amount of money he might have left forgotten anywhere in that mess. Needless to say, he didn’t even find a quarter.
“Wow, man it’s like a freaking hurricane was here.”
“Yeah, I sort of lost my ID and freaked out a bit.” As he spoke, Nishinoya put on some of the few clothes he hadn’t turned into a ball.
“No kidding, I’d freak out too.” Tanaka agreed, as he too used to lose his stuff all the time. “But did you find it?”
“Yeah, it’s alright now, I got it.” Just to prove it, Nishinoya reached into his wallet and showed Tanaka his Citizen Card. Then, he returned his ID to his wallet and shoved it all inside his pocket jeans. “So, let’s go? I think there’s still some time before our shift.” | f34d53a6676a4689aa678679fd48e7c5 | ['6fe1421ce3c340c18ebde70f574f3551'] | Kageyama shook his head in confusion. Tell Hinata what he really felt? Like, angry…? One would think Hinata would have picked up on that already. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”
“Would surprise me if you did…”
“Tsukishima!” Daichi snapped, making Kageyama jump. He’d completely forgotten he’d left Suga and Daichi behind him when he headed for the door.
“Well, _someone’s_ got to make him understand. I don’t know why you all don’t just tell him straight to his King’s face.”
“Tsukishima, I’m warning you!”
Tsukishima raised his hands up in the air. Even that idiot knew that pissing Daichi off was never a good idea.
“Fine, then.” Tsukishima said, stepping off his spot beside Asahi. “Yamaguchi, let’s go.”
“Actually, Tsukki, I’m staying.”
At that time, Tsukishima was not the only one to be surprised. The entire Karasuno Volleyball Team, or, at least, the present members, stared at Yamaguchi in amazement. He rarely ever stepped up against his beloved Tsukishima.
“What did you say?”
“I’m sorry, Tsukki, but this isn’t just about Kageyama. It’s about Hinata too, and, for once, I’d like to repay him for all the help he’s given me. _He’s given us._ ”
Tsukishima was silent for a moment, as though struggling with his own feelings, but at last, he decided to simply shrug it off and leave the gym with a “Fine, do as you want.”
Tsukishima’s departure meant that the attentions were turned back to Kageyama again, though, which the latter was expecting to avoid, in the hopes that he’d manage to leave sooner. The longer he stayed here, without talking to Hinata, without solving things, the hurter Hinata would feel.
“Kageyama,” Suga called his name, forcing the first year setter to look back at his Senpai. “We cannot let you go if all you will do is hurt Hinata even further.”
Even Suga believed he’d done it intentionally?!
“ _I don’t want to hurt him!_ ” Kageyama’s voice was no more than a whispered plea. Why did everyone think he meant to do wrong?
“Hey, calm down. We know you don’t.” All of a sudden, Suga was at his side, patting his shoulder. “But, Kageyama, we don’t think you understand what you’re really feeling.”
Why did they keep saying that? Of course he understood what he felt. He felt frustrated and angry. He felt scared. He felt so scared, thinking that if he couldn’t get a hold on this stupid situation he’d never be able to play volleyball again. Not really. Not as he always had.
“You making him cry, Suga!” Ennoshita exclaimed, still not leaving his place in the line. Had Kageyama not been so confused and upset, he might have been amazed at how disciplined they all were. “And is that blood on his face?!”
As it seemed, Suga had noticed the blood too, even in the dim light of the gym, but he’d decided there were more important things to discuss. He shot a glance at Ennoshita that quickly quieted their second year player.
“Kageyama, listen to me,” Suga said, cleaning the tears on Kageyama’s eyes. “You are going up that mountain to Hinata’s house, and as you walk, you’ll think of what’s really bothering you okay? Not what you think is _standing in your way_ but what really makes you _angry._ Promise?”
Surprised at Suga’s words, Kageyama took a while to agree. But, eventually, he nodded. If anything, so that at least they’d let him go. None of what they were saying made any sense, anyway. There was no point in staying behind and trying to understand them.
“Then let him through.” Suga ordered.
“Suga-”
“Daichi, don’t you trust me?”
And so, with a sigh and a brief nod from Daichi, Kageyama left in a rush, leaving his teammates to worry about whether or not Kageyama would be able to figure his own feelings out.
2. The Cure for a Huge Storm is a Tiny Crow
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> In which Kageyama figures his stuff out and I run a little out of his initial motives, because yes.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Soooo, I have a whole other AU (also Haikyuu!!) planned but still working on it, so I decided to finish this chapter sooner before I crawl back into the shadows and figure out the other AU.
Okay, Kageyama had to say it: he was glad he’d decided to become a volleyball player and not a mountain hiker. This stupid, never ending slope was killing him! How did Hinata even climb it every freaking day?! No wonder he had so much energy stored…
But point was, the mountain made Kageyama slower and light was running out quickly. Not to mention the weather channel had confirmed a storm for that night. If he didn’t find Hinata’s place soon, he was done for.
So Kageyama kept walking. And walking. And walking.
He walked for so long that at some point it startled to drizzle, the light rain wetting Kageyama’s gym coat and making him tremble with the cold, even if only slightly. Not that that was enough to stop him. If Kageyama had made it that far, he sure could make it to the end.
His spirits, however, weren’t as high up when the first thunderstorm sounded and the rain began to fall harder. It wasn’t that Kageyama was _afraid_ of thunderstorms; of course not. He just wasn’t fond of being outside when those stupid blue lightning bolts came out to have some fun, kill some people…
It was better if he picked up pace anyway, right? Didn’t want to disturb Hinata’s family after they went to bed or something…
Luckily, in this new speed, Kageyama found Hinata’s house in no time. He identified it immediately, even if he’d never been there. The garden, covered in white snow, had volleyballs spread all over, and on the trunk of cherry tree that they’d grow outside, a tiny crow figure had been carefully carved. |
89a23702ad6a45fabbb102e9bda9dc33 | ['6ffb770a114a4673890dc0d9ba26e321'] | “You look so beautiful now, my phoenix.” Daine let out a gasp and made a quick movement to turn around. He stumbled a bit, his reflexes seemed to have enhanced as well. There Ydris was, also looking half transparent and made of stars. Daine took a step back, pinning his ears back. Ydris had also changed and he was simply amazing.
Daine noticed that he had obviously grown a little taller. The magician had dark dragon-like wings that were shades of violet, reminding him of the night Ydris had taken him outside of the wagon and Daine dared to kiss him. His skin had been replaced with dark violet-blue scales that were iridescent and appeared to have a pinch of multiple colors that faded to an extremely dark purple, almost black.
His eyes trailed up to his head and face. His hair stayed but he had black horns that also reflected purple and twisted in many directions that then branched off of each other. His eyes stood out like lights from his dark body. It made Daine shiver at how much they glowed and how his sclera had turned to be as pitch black as the night. Finally, Daine rested his eyes on the large reptilian tail that was longer than his own and lashed around. Daine only wished he could look as magnificent. Maybe he would like it a lot more than being called a furry by his friends.
Ydris could feel Daine’s eyes burn through him. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought Daine here, looking like this. But seeing his phoenix in his purest form was worth it, even at the sacrifice of looking like a demon. Finally, Daine spoke up. “You… look amazing.” He was in awe.
The lighter Pandorian walked towards the other, the sound of water splashing echoed through the plane. Finally, he reached Ydris and cupped his face with a clawed hand. If he thought Ydris was beautiful before, this was nothing compared to then. Daine had no words to describe what he thought.
“You see, my phoenix. I am not much different than you. But I am more of a monster than you, no matter how much your mind likes to torture you with the thought.” Ydris said, his voice echoing, almost sounding doubled. Daine felt as if he could cry again. This wasn’t fair, not fair at all. He hated looking at himself, he hated the fur and wings that sprouted from his skin. And here Ydris was, someone beautiful telling him that he somehow looked better. Before he could say anything, Ydris kissed him. His breath was warm and made him feel safe in this chilled place.
The magician pulled away ever so slightly, still very close to Daine. “I love you, Daniel, no matter how much of a monster you think you are.” The half Pandorian caught the breath of those words. He could combust into flames with the passion burning in his chest. Maybe he wasn’t the monster he thought he was after all… maybe he really was something wonderful. Something… beautiful. He may have not been as beautiful as Aideen with her golden hair, but he was beautiful in other ways, and he was beautiful to someone who cared about him. A smile crossed his face as the hot tears traced down his face.
Ydris held him there for a while in his arms, stroking his raven colored hair. Daine kept his eyes closed, purring. The heat that came from Ydris was comforting, but he opened his sunset colored eyes when light shown. The astral plane was now tinted orange with a bright light slowly rising up. Daine’s eyes went into slits, letting the light fill his vision.
“Mon amour, the sun is rising. I think we should go back to the real world.” Daine hated to go back, he wanted to stay here. He felt so calm, no worry or anxiety. But he nodded and his vision went dark again.
The man slowly blinked his eyes open as the sunlight shown through his window. But he wasn’t looking at the window, he was looking at the man who loved him more than anyone else. Daine moved close to him, whispering a thank you. Here they both looked normal and Daine had finally got to see what Ydris looked like under his skin. But for the first time, he was okay with what he looked like under his own skin. Yet again, Ydris managed to make him feel so much better about his real self. He was finally learning to love himself again. | 47c5f2b8447f47ec8fe5d96f4bdba446 | ['6ffb770a114a4673890dc0d9ba26e321'] | With that, Daine walked over to meet Ydris, taking the axle from him and hooking up Zee himself. “You can’t be doing this, ya know, you might reopen that wound.” He said, backing Cloud in to the spot next to Zee.
“I’m not glass, you know.” The showman glared, crossing his arms and watching Daine finish up attaching the horses to the carriage.
“I know, but we need to be careful, and we need to move fast.” The outlaw said, climbing into the driver’s seat of the cart, without looking at Ydris. “You comin’ or are you just gonna stand there and look pretty?” A rare smile crossed his face.
Ydris rolled his eyes, a smile also crossing his face. With a strong hand from Daine, Ydris climbed into the passenger’s seat. Daine flicked the reins and the two horses started cantering down the trail, Red trotting not too far behind.
It was rather quiet on the country road. The only sound that could really be heard was the rustling of the breeze through the trees, birds, and other wildlife. And of course the rumble of the carriage. Ydris couldn’t help but gently touch the burning bullet hole in his side.
“So, are you going to tell me who that man was back there? You know, the one that shot me?” The showman questioned, cocking his eyebrow.
The outlaw let out an annoyed breath. “It’s nothing to worry about, Ydris.”
“I think it is something I need to worry about, Daniel, he damn near killed me! And he almost shot you!” Ydris shot back, edge creeping into his voice.
“Look, he’s far behind us now. There ain’t nothing to worry about.” Daine said, trying to keep his cool, but his hands did tighten on the reins.
Ydris could see the tension rising, but still, he pressed on, “He knew you, Daine, he was there for something, and we don’t have that much damn money. So what was he doing with a gun to your head?”
“I told you, it’s nothing.” Daine’s brows were now knitting into a frown.
“Does it have to do with this!” Ydris yelled, quickly yanking Daine’s shirt up to reveal the huge brand mark on his side. In an instant, Ydris regretted it. The next thing he felt was a sting on his face and the sound of the horses whinnying, distressed as the anger rose.
Breathing heavy, Ydris’ black hair hung in his face covering his brown eye, pure rage in his blue one. “After all the shit we’ve been through, all that time you had to come running for me because you claimed you loved me, and still you don’t trust me?” He breathed, baring his teeth at the other. He couldn’t read Daine’s expression, hell he never could, Daine was too good at hiding his true emotions sometimes.
“I’m trying to save you damn it!” Daine yelled, slamming his fist down on the back of the driver’s seat, making the horses jump again. “Look, if you knew, you’d probably shoot me right here! And it’s not who I am anymore anyway.”
Ydris looked into Daine’s eyes in disbelief. “After what I said to you last night? After I agreed to go with you? You… still don’t trust me? And did you forget I was part of a gang myself?”
“Look. You don’t get it, okay? Y-You just don’t! Hell, the reason why they came looking for me in the first place is because I ran off to find you! I should have never fucking went patrolling around that night if I knew I’d be a damn rebound and end up here.” He growled.
“Oh so now this is my fault? Not the problem that you couldn’t properly cut yourself off from your stupid gang or be smart enough to stay with your family?” He saw he finally hit a nerve. Even just for a split second, he could see Daine’s features soften. No, he wasn’t dropping the argument. He was sad, depressed. Ydris had struck a nerve and he wished he could take everything back.
“I’m glad you assume I had a choice in living this life.” Daine mumbled, snapping the reins and urging the horses on again.
Again, the rest of the way was quiet with an awkward silence hanging in the air. Ydris’ head just kept replacing question after question of what might have happened to Daine. It definitely had to do with his family. Had his family been in the gang when they had him like Ydris’ family had? Or did they join when Daine was young? The questions didn’t stop. Not even when they set up camp for the night.
Once the carriage stopped, both men hopped off. Right away, Daine saddled up Red and mumbled something about going hunting. Ydris watched his cowboy ride into the sunset, near the woods. His heart hurt. Daine had saved him, loved him, and now he seemed to have pushed Daine further away than he had when he left him.
Ydris knew Daine would probably be gone for a few hours, so in the meantime he untied the horses, brushed them down, and began to gather the equipment needed to start a fire and cook whatever Daine brought back. Though, some of the work that used to be easy, made Ydris’ wound burn. Tenderly lifting his shirt, Ydris looked at the bandages that crossed his body. They were already somehow stained with dirt, probably from falling asleep by the fire last night with Daine. |
13571303818b4b1893aeba7de59554a0 | ['70188766c2734eec9d7eb1c40053db89'] | My mother works on carburetors
**Author's Note:**
> First time writing and posting anything so be warned lol. Posted using my phone. No beta all mistakes are mind. Reviews are welcome.
>
> I do not own Ouat or it's characters.
It was a beautiful day in Storybrooke, Maine and Regina Mills the towns Mayor and former Evil Queen was enjoying her afternoon run. She was almost at Granny's diner when she spotted the yellow death trap that belongs to Emma Swan, the town sheriff and savior parked at the curb with someone under the hood. Deciding she always has time to get under the blondes skin , she takes out her earbuds and jogs over to the bug.
Miss Swan I do hope you intend on moving your rust bucket before the lunch crowd arrives. This is a diner after all not an auto repair shop.
Damn Regina, do you ever cut Emma any slack? Regina's eyes widen at hearing her mother's voice come from under the hood.
Mother! What are you doing? Regina asks in horror.
I'm fixing Emma's carburetor , Cora says with a shrug.
Why on earth are you doing that? Can't she fix it herself?
I could, came a voice from behind her, but Cora and I made a deal.
Regina turns to see Emma walking towards them. What might this deal be sheriff ? asks the younger brunette with curiosity.
Well Cora told me she could fix the bug in under and hour without using magic and I still say that's not possible explains the blonde. Regina looks to her mother and raises an eyebrow, but what's the deal?
I told her if I couldn't fix it in inder an hour that you would go out with her tonight explains Cora.
YOU WHAT !, Regina screams.
Don't play deaf Regina you heard me.
Mother why would you do that! Cora shrugs and looks back at the carburetor.
What do you get if you fix it in timeRegina asks annoyed.
I don't get anything says Cora from under the hood.
What kind of deal is that Mother, the brunette yelled.
I love working on cars. It's my new passion and I want to become a mechanic. That Tillman guy said I could work at his shop as long as you don't come around.
I kidnap his brats and get them to go into a house made of sweets where a child eating witch lived, one time and I can never live it down Regina said with annoyance.
Regina! , exclaimed a shocked Emma.
The witch was blind! Regina said in her defense.
Never mind that now Emma said shaking her head, times up.
What?
Regina she went to get me a wrench so I could tighten this bolt, Cora says with a smirk.
So ?
So, Madam Mayor times up and I still have the wrench in my hand, Emma says while holding up the tool for the brunette to see.
Oh No! Regina says realization flooding her brain.
Looks like with have a date tonight the blonde says over her shoulder as she walks back into the diner.
I'm going to kills you Mother , screams Regina not caring that some people have stopped to stare.
It's your fault dear, if you had just left me alone the car would have been fixed in time. Maybe next one you'll think twice before you try to pick a fight with Emma say Cora.
Regina screams and disappears in a cloud of purple smoke.
Bending down and picking up the wrench she had hidden when she saw Regina running towards her , Cora tightens the bolt with a laugh. | 11eaa69ea2d1483fb43bbb25f3944e1c | ['70188766c2734eec9d7eb1c40053db89'] | Untitled SwanQueen one shot
Regina turns the key in the lock and steps into the foyer at 108 Mifflin street, her sanctuary after a long day at city hall. Removing her heels as she heads for the family room she calls for Emma, who she finds sitting Indian style in front of the tv playing one of her many video games. " _Evening dear, new game_? " " _Yeah, it's the new Grand Theft Auto, Wanna play? " ,_ Emma asks as she holds the controller out to Regina. " _Of course not dear, I wouldn't be caught dead fiddling with that contraption" ,_ Regina says with a look of disgust. " _Suit yourself , I'm gonna grab a beer, you want anything?" ,_ Emma says as she stands up and heads toward the kitchen. " _No thank you dear"_
Regina noticing that Emma left the game running ,picks up the controller and starts making the guy on the screen walk around in a circle. " _Umm...Gina , what are you doing?"_ Startled not having heard Emma's return, Regina says " _Nothing dear, you left your x-station on and i didn't want your little man to fall off a cliff." "_ _There's no cliff in that neighborhood, besides he doesn't move unless you make him." "That's beside the point. Is there a rental place in this area where I can purchase a car? I want to take him to the beach." " Just steal one "_ , Emma says amused. _" I WILL NOT ! ...... How do I do that ? " " walk up to a car and press o" ,_ Emma says then takes a drink of her beer.
" _I'm in, how do I make it go?" " Press x , but you better hurry before that old lady takes her car back"_ , Emma says with a laugh. " Nonsense , that peasant would never challenge the Evil Queen!" " _Gina , you may be a Queen , but that guy isn't "._ " _Oh, right..... now who is this winch standing in front of my car",_ Regina asks annoyed. "That would be a hooker..she wants to know if you ....umm , require her services." "H _ow do i get rid of her",_ Regina asks disgusted. '" _Just run her over like I do, then you can take her money. " " Sweet ",_ Regina says with an evil smile. " _What'dja say?" asks_ Emma with a raised eyebrow. " _Nothing dear."_
Emma watches Regina play for the next hour , getting better as time passes. After getting past the lack of magic in the game, Regina buys some guns and ammo. Suddenly Emma's cell rings playing Someday my prince will come. Emma presses the answer call button and says, " Hi , Mom." On the other end of the line MM says overly happy , " Hi, Emma . How would you, Henry , and Regina like..." " _These gangsters are like the Charmings, they never know when to stop.",_ Regina yells to Emma _,"_ " _Hold on a sec, Mom" Emma says_ into the phone.
Emma goes into the kitchen to keep from having to explain to Snow why Regina is comparing her to a gangster. She continues to talk to Snow, agreeing that they will have family dinner this weekend and ends the call. as she returns to the family room she finds Regina has stopped playing and turned the game off. Panicked she quickly switches it back on to find that all her progress has been lost. _"Regina!!!!!." " Yes dear?" ,_ Regina calls from upstairs. " _You could have saved the game!" " Don't worry about that silly game dear, if you come upstairs, I have a much better game we can play."_ |
801fd1429b2d4e8995f2cb4d43cbca7a | ['70276c29d6084409a5c109f460f5c5d5'] | > Also Pete makes an embarrassing mistake, but it leads to 'Trick's new experience.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> (Masturbation is in this chapter, you have been warned) hopefully it's not cringey.. but I ofc hope you enjoy it!!
> Also, text characters key:
> Meagan Camper= Meagan pagan
> Ryan Ross= Ryhab
> Mikey Way= Moikey
> Patrick Stumph= Patrick Stump (changes)
> Peter Wentz= Petekey (changes)
Pete pulled his car into the parking space outside the garage door when he checked his phone finding the notification that previously startled him. It was sent from Patrick’s twitter. After reading it, he went upstairs into his bedroom and plopped down into his mess of blankets to respond.
Pete: ‘hey Patty, you there? ;)’
Pete cringed before correcting his error.
Pete: ‘*:)’
Dots appeared on the screen, which Pete perked up to. Sitting up on the bed he waited for the next message.
Patrick: ‘Don’t do that creepy smile. How dare’
The other boy continued typing.
Patrick: ‘How dare you..’
Patrick: ‘Nvm’
Pete: ‘k, hey do you have a skype’
Pete: ‘i want u to meet some people’
Patrick: ‘Yep.’
Pete waited for Patrick to send another message but a couple minutes passed without anything.
Pete: ‘can u tell me it??’
Patrick: ‘!!!! Fine.’
Patrick: ‘minecraft_boy136’
Pete: ‘xD’
Pete: ‘minecraft?? wow are u 10’
Patrick: ‘You just used xD, how are you any better?’
Pete: ‘fine’
Pete: ‘i was jk anyways.. :-(‘
The 17-year old left the Twitter tab and logged onto Skype, searching the name ‘minecraft_boy136’. Clicking the only one to show up, he added them to his contacts. Pete had found the group chat he set up that included Ryan, Brendon, Mikey, and Meagan. Adding Patrick to the group caused sudden panic.
Brennda: ‘wtf are u adding fucken narks to the convo’
Petekey: ‘no no guys he’s cool’
Moikey: ‘Pete, change your damn name. I’m not your gay lover’
**Petekey has changed his name to Peter Memer.**
Brennda: ‘hahaha good one’
Patrick Stump: ‘Pete?’
Brennda: ‘look at this kid w/ his first and last name, he’s a nark’
**Patrick Stump has changed his name to Patrick.**
Patrick: ‘What?’
Peter Memer: ‘make up a name tricky, something funny’
Moikey: Leave him alone
Ryhab: Good morning bren <333
Brennda: it’s almost 7 at night ryan ffs
**Patrick has changed his name to Patty Cakes.**
Patty Cakes: ‘Is this good?’
Brennda: ‘good for a nark’
Ryhab: ‘Who’s the nark?? Wait who’s patty cakes?’
Peter Memer: ‘he’s a friend my dudes’
Meagan pagan: ‘How old is he? I think I’ve seen him walking alone before’
Moikey: ‘Meagan that sounded really…weird.’
Peter Memer: don’t worry meag I got u, he’s 15, p smart too’
Patty Cakes: ‘This message has been removed.’
Brennda: ‘what, what was that “*blushes*” crap, some kinky rp??’
Peter Memer: brb
Ryhab: ‘Bren I’m so high rn my feet feel like airheads candy’
Pete left the Skype tab, getting back onto Twitter to explain to Patrick what was going on.
Pete: ‘Pater’
Patrick: ‘Yes?’
Pete noticed Patrick had changed his profile picture to one that displayed his full body. He was holding up a guitar to his small figure. And damn was he, t h i c c. Pete would have no complaints dying by those thighs strangling him.
Pete: ‘sorry if those ppl seemed mean but theyre just into some, slightly illegal, things and I hadn’t really brought you up yet’
Pete: ‘but theyre actually good’
Patrick: ‘I figured, I don’t usually take offense to these kinds of things anyways.’
Pete then sent the 100 emoji, even if it was out of context, Patrick didn’t mention it. The black-haired teen was again distracted by the younger’s picture. Clicking on the picture, he was led to the account’s home and he again clicked on the picture to enlarge it. Pete was infatuated with the boy’s small, but chubby frame. Carrying such a short body on those beautiful, pale thighs. And he was even wearing girls shorts, probably didn’t even realize it. They were athletic attire, mostly black with a small Nike check above the hemline. The older teen just wanted to rip them off and fuck him into a whimpering mess.
Feeling kind of envious, the teen pulled off his own jeans and slipped his boxers down to his knees, revealing his cock which had shown some attention towards the image as well. Pete gave it a tug and snapped a picture, holding it against his chiseled torso. He grimaced, feeling so unworthy of such a pretty boy, who could make someone orgasm with his legs alone.
Then Pete came up with an incredulous plan. Not a very organized, or intended course of action, he selected his own photo and held his index finger over ‘send’ humorously. And who was he trying to amuse? Himself. Finding out it was, oh so worth it, when he accidentally hit that part of the screen. Just barely a tap causing his face to ignite in shame.
He even tried to delete it but, then he remembered. It’s only deleted on his end of the conversation. At least he doesn’t have it there to recall his mistake though. But poor Patrick.
Pete: ‘Pat’
Pete: ‘Pat’
Pete: ‘Pat’
Some more spam messages followed as an attempt to mask the nude photo before he rolled over and let the phone fall off the side of his bed. Pete covered his face with his hands.
“I’m such an idiot.”
Not much later and he heard a notification alert.
_Should I even look?_
Pete slid his hands down his cheeks, and rubbed at his eyes as they started to water, from shock presumably.
Patrick: ‘Pete…’
Pete: ‘i’m so sorry that was an accident please don’t look’
Pete: ‘gahhh fuck’
Pete tossed his phone onto the carpet, not bothering to plug in the charger.
_Fuck it._ | 523772bededd4a2584f09d73fda2613e | ['70276c29d6084409a5c109f460f5c5d5'] |
**Author's Note:**
> Welcome to this shit show that is my first uploaded fic, you're welcome friend.
Brendon’s boyfriend had left to go run errands this morning, leaving poor Beebo alone in the house. He was grateful for the few extra hours of sleep he got though, except for when his morning wood urged him awake.
“Ugh, oh my god. Hello.”
The singer clutched the crotch of his pajama pants trying to relieve the pressure but it seemed he had to get out of bed. Throwing the covers to the side of the mattress, Brendon got up and entered the attached bathroom. Making sure he thoroughly washed his hair after four days of inattentive showers, Brendon exited the shower and styled his still-wet hair by simply throwing it back with a hand. Since Ryan wasn’t going to be home for a few more hours, he guessed, he would have to make breakfast. His idea of breakfast being a bowl of cereal covered with syrup. And whoopty-fuckin-do, again this morning showed up, a sudden boner. Ignoring his mouth full of milk and chewed grain, he vocalized his complaint as always.
“Oh my fucking god, Ryan isn’t even home. Wait, goddamn it. Arghh!”
Bren left his unfinished cereal on the table aggravated that his partner left him the morning he needed him most. A half hour later, trying to distract himself with Fallout tm proved to be useless with his reappearing erection. Ending with him slumped against the couch whimpering quietly after failing another objective. For a solid 5 minutes he sat on the floor with clenched fists rubbing irritably at his eyes. He couldn’t wait for Ryan, even though the singer willed all his focus into losing his hard-on, nothing worked. Lips bitten raw from the “eventful” morning, he was getting tired of being patient. Unconsciously, a hand snaked down his chest to his bulge. Oh, how he missed Ryan’s hand jobs. For a while since they started having sex, they haven’t had much foreplay. When his hips began grinding into his palm, Brendon could feel his mouth forming an ‘o’. Soo tight, wearing jeans was a bad idea, he didn’t even plan on recording today.
Whimpers slipped through his mouth one after another, and soon he had to unzip his pants. Once he did he exposed his boner but left his cock in his boxers. The whimpers were getting louder as his hips bucked harder into the friction. Arousal tinged his cheeks and ears red, and his eyes squinted. As an attempt to be quiet, he bit his lip. But a groan pushed past and echoed through the room, causing Brendon to quickly cover his mouth. Behind his cupped hand though, his voice betrayed him.
“Ry…Ryan.”
He tightened his grip as he humped his hand quicker, and precome at this point was smearing all inside his boxers. Brendon was already so far gone when he heard his phone next to him ringing by a contact he wished would have called a hell of a long time ago.
“Ry- fuck h-hi.” Even though he held his breath as much as he could, barely audible whines escaped his throat.
“Bren baby, you okay?”
“Y-yeah, just, can’t wait till you get home…haha.”
Brendon’s hand couldn’t physically leave his lap.
“Well just wanted to say I’ll be home soon.”
“How-w soon?”
Bren’s voice was breaking now, he needed Ry.
“A few minutes. Promise.”
“Hurry please, I need you Ry. Miss you so much.”
Brendon heard his boyfriend laughing into the phone. Whoops…
“Brendon, are you being good?”
He could hear that fucking smirk behind the phone. Didn’t even need to see him.
“Yess, being soo good Ryan.”
Brendon’s voice was cracking under pressure and he could tell Ryan was catching on.
“Well, see ya then Bren.”
Brendon immediately hung up and clasped his mouth shut. He should go slow until his boyfriend could help him. Not much later of waiting and his boyfriend was in the driveway. By the time Ryan got to the door, Brendon allowed himself very slow, torturous palming. Ryan entered the house to find his boyfriend sitting against the couch, sweat streaming down his face and a hand clasped over his erection. Both bags in his hands dropped as he attended to his partner.
“Brendon baby, you couldn’t even wait honey?”
“N-no, Ry please help mee.”
Ryan picked Brendon up by his sides and dropped him onto the couch. Brendon’s whimpers were getting louder and his eyes remained squinted.
“Sshh, baby ‘s okay. Watch me.”
Ryan pulled both of their pants and boxers down to their knees as he hovered over Bren. Brendon was now watching him as requested, even if his eyes were powerfully attempting to close. The thing he really didn’t want to miss was Ryan gripping his own dick in a fist as he leaned over Brendon’s. It was hard for Brendon not to come as soon as the wetness surrounded his erection. Ry fucking moaned around his cock, making Brendon’s hips buck deeper into his throat. His hips kept their motion to continue that sweet feeling he loved.
“Fuuuck Ryan make me come.”
Brendon used the couch’s sides for stability when everything seemed to crash. Ryan replaced his mouth with his empty hand when he went up for a kiss, and looked at his needy boyfriend. Who grimaced at the taste of himself.
“Bren baby. Come for me. You’re doing so good. Mmm.”
Again his mouth found Brendon’s leaking cock and he sucked, moans escaping constantly as his hand kept going around his own erection.
“Ry-Ryan..Fuck, I want this soo bad please, yess.”
Moments later Brendon released into Ryan’s mouth, his abdomen tensing as he was guided through his orgasm. The gap slowly closed between his raw lips.
“Fuuck.” |
0a6042319df0417c97eff297d6032f06 | ['7029f261ad98480291ec0fd3c2ddc22c'] | Noya has this soft and bright look on his face like he just saw a puppy. Asahi was sure his coughing fit made him look nothing like a puppy. “Well that's for a later discussion,” Noya puffed his chest, “ let's get going, Suga’s gonna worry if the prince isn't home by midnight,” he winks. Asahi is flustered and speechless but follows closely behind.
**_Back home_ **
“Welp here we are big guy,” Noya said rather solemnly Asahi noted.
“Yeeep” Asahi stared back awkwardly.
“I had a really great night Asahi,” Noya spoke softly as he grabbed his hand, “thank you.” How was he so damn good at this Asahi thought. Cheeky bastard.
“Me too. Me too.” Asahi brought his other hand up to Noya’s cheek and rested it there.
“May I? May.. I. You know. Do What we did earlier” Asahi trailed off at the end.
Noya giggled, “you don't have to ask me twice!” Noya cheered before gripping Asahi’s sweater with both hands and pulling him in. The kiss was just as soft and sweet as the first one. Feeling that warmth travel through his chest, Asahi could get used to this. They both blushed furiously yet again. “See ya Asahi,” Noya said thoughtfully with a wink. He rolled his eyes, “See ya tiger,” Asahi threw back.
He entered his apartment, hands shaking and immediately fell to the floor. He was shook to say the least. Just outside he heard a loud cheer which was definitely from Noya and he couldn't hide the enormous smile on his face as Suga rounded the corner to greet him.
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you so much for giving this a shot!!! I hope all who read it enjoy it, I sure enjoyed writing and drawing for it <3 | 6e902d4067874c91885b8e9e43270adf | ['7029f261ad98480291ec0fd3c2ddc22c'] |
Another Long Day
**Author's Note:**
> I wrote this a little bit ago for DaiSuga day! I had the urge to write a fic and well now here we are. A good ol’ comfort fic that’s pretty cheesy and short. It’s my first fic so go easy on me lol, but suggestions for improvement would be great! Hope you enjoy!
“Bullshit,” he forced under his breath, “what bullshit.” It’s the third week in a row all of his files have been handed to him late and now he’s getting chewed out again. It’s not like he was days late or anything, he knows the scheduling better than he knows his own apartment and he understands how important it is to not push court dates, but damn. They could be a little more understanding. If the guys below him would just get their shit together and stop procrastinating and misplacing everything, then maybe he could finally take a breath without feeling like he’s suffocating.
Daichi made his way out of the elevator onto his floor, walking sternly but swiftly. His entire body was tense, and his limbs ached from rushing room to room all day; organizing, collecting, conversing, all while putting on a calm and collected demeanor that in no way reflected how he really felt. To say he was frustrated would be an understatement.
Suga was planted at his desk in their bedroom, placing finishing touches on his latest project, making sure to not miss anything. Amidst his analyzing he was startled by a loud smack against the coat rack and then once again as the door met its frame.
“Daichi..?”
It could’ve been him, but it sounded like someone kicked the door in which was not common when he came home. Before he could speculate any further, Daichi appeared in the bedroom doorway with a twisted look on his face. Suga nearly missed it because he fell so quickly onto the bed with a forceful groan.
He waited a few moments before speaking.
“Hey babe, rough day?” Suga’s voice was soft like cotton and laced with concern. After another minute he made his way from his desk to beside Daichi’s head on the bed, who was still stuck in his initial landing.
“Hy baeb,” Daichi spoke a muffled sigh into the mattress. Suga chuckled quietly and replied, “Hey. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want, but I’m here to get you anything you need, just let me know okay?”
Daichi smiled a bit as Suga brushed his fingers through his hair; he knows Suga would do anything he needed, as would he, but his face quickly returned back to a scowl. He leaned upward to meet Suga’s eyes, soft and warm, that reassured him. Even after being together for years, he’s never gotten tired of those eyes. They were usually what brought him back to reality during times like this. No matter how furious he got, or how melancholy or caught up in the moment he was; Suga understood, he wanted to understand and even if he couldn’t he always tried to understand. It was written all over his face. It’s not like he didn’t have his fair share of breakdowns, rage fits, you name it, but he was more naturally grounded and especially so as of late; like an anchor to a boat. Daichi shuffled into his lap, curling up and wrapping his arms around his waist, burying his face into his stomach.
“I just need a little bit of time…then I’ll talk,” Daichi spoke through his teeth trying not to sound rude, as Suga continued to stroke his locks humming in approval.
They sat like that for a while with nothing but the sounds of the city below and comfortable space between them. Daichi attempted to regulate his breathing so he could at least relax his muscles, and it was working, but it didn’t ease his mind. He needed to vent. It was getting late, and the sun was already put away for the day.
He had been working overtime a lot lately and Suga wondered if it was starting to take its toll? Possibly. Probably. Things were hectic this year, his job was enough to turn him sour, but on top of that they were also planning their wedding. It was exciting and amazing of course, they were going to be married in 6 months. Married! In six months! But the stress of work weighed on his shoulders and made arranging the event more stressful then normal.
After a few more moments contemplating, Daichi loosened his grip a little bit and looked back up at Suga. He was ready now, and even if he didn’t want to get worked up anymore than he already was, he needed to; they both knew it. He let out a big sigh and let the corners of his mouth perk up, working like a bridge for the conversation.
“Well,” he spoke slowly letting his attempt at a smile fade, “ For the record this has nothing to do with you or the wedding. Its work. And stress. And work stress. The wedding is stressful too but not because I’m unhappy or don’t want it.”
“I know Daichi, you would’ve needed space if it was for that reason, and I would’ve too,” Suga said sounding slightly amused, while Daichi nodded in agreement.
“I guess I’ll, start at this morning?” Daichi asked looking for confirmation. Suga nodded softly in response.
“So. this morning I’m on my way to work, and there’s so many people on the train, way too many. They push and shove and I’m already thinking about the shit I have to do and how to do it, all my late work whatever and my thought process keeps getting interrupted by some prick.” He pauses, and Suga watches intently nodding for him to continue.
“And this idiot,” Daichi scoffs, his voice picking up, “This jackass, is shoving his way through trying to get closer to the door from the farthest end of the car. Were almost to the station, not even 10 minutes, and he has to act like a bull plowing through a china shop?” his arms begin to express his irritation, moving outward. “Ugh. He was so rude to everyone and it just made me so frustrated. Then when I get to work I’m a minute late! One. Minute. For whatever reason I have no idea, I leave at the same time every frickin day! And I still get a strike!” his sentence ends with a huff; one just long enough for Suga to suggest an explanation. He chuckles cautiously, “Well while that’s true, I was quite liberal with goodbye kisses this morning.”
Daichi’s face softens and he smirks remembering that morning; them making breakfast together, cutting it close to his departure, dancing around the kitchen like idiots to their favorite playlist, and stealing kisses when they got close. It was a good morning, a great morning, but he had almost forgotten about it.
“Yeah,” he spoke softly, turning slightly pink, “I almost forgot about that. But it was nice, really nice.” Suga raised an accusing eyebrow and a smile to this statement, but he knew he had meant it by the new expression wiping over his face. Daichi smiled back as Suga kissed his forehead lightly; he understood he couldn’t always make him feel better, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try.
They remained like that while Daichi ranted on about work, how the workers below him kept messing up and how it made him look bad, how he got ridiculed again for it, and how he managed to not clock anyone in the side of the head or walk out the front door through it all. Then how the files piled up, him working through lunch and having to stay 4 hours late (Which Suga knew of via text message). Luckily his venture home was not as ridiculous as his ride there, but it left him to fester in the days events, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. But that bitter taste has faded and was now filled with sweetness; sweet words that were exchanged back and forth from him and his partner. He always tries his best when it comes to his wellbeing, and Daichi appreciates it more then Suga will ever know. As much as he disregards his location as nothing more then some paint and wood protecting them from the weather, Suga always makes him feel as though he’s home. And when he’s in his arms, he is home.
“St-stoOp!” he squeals as Suga expertly maneuvers his hands from his sides upward to tickle his neck, “You play d-irty! No ti-ckLIGAAA SUGAWARA!” he weezes loudly, yet despite his cries Suga is merciless.
Soon enough they’re both a giggling mess, a little winded from rustling around their bed, breathing heavy. With fingers intertwined, Daichi brings a hand up to Suga’s cheek, brushing it gently as he whispers, “Thank you. You helped me a lot today, I’m still a bit worried, but I’ve calmed down and feel a lot better now.”
“Why are we whispering?” Suga replies in a hushed tone smirking like the smug man he is, “ you’re welcome babe, anytime.” Daichi rolls his eyes and tells him to shut up before holding his cheek, guiding him into a delicate and warm kiss. They part with smiles and longing glances, holding each other like it was the only thing that mattered, and it was. Their lips met again a few moments later, just as soft as before.
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you for reading! I hope to write more in the near future :) |
a61ee9e587a94eeda0392bd919a6637e | ['7034dabb46524ceba57491f40a111eb0'] | Nearly all of Camelot stood in the courtyard, holding candles in front of them. The rain had relented enough for the flames to stay lit. He quickly found a balcony, and heard the voices. People who knew Merlin were sharing stories, those who didn't were listening intently. This kind of gathering was fit for a king – not a servant. Arthur was amazed that one person could have such an effect.
He watched them for a long time, wishing that Merlin could have seen this. Then maybe he would have seen how cherished he was. When the rain started up again, he went inside and changed. He wore white robes, and walked to the room where Merlin lay once more, carrying a bundle of cloth in his arms. Merlin still lay there, quietly, and Arthur wished he had only been sleeping for the thousandth time, at least. He dressed Merlin in some of his nice clothes, he looked like royalty as he lay there, and he bent to kiss his forehead. He looked at peace for the first time in a long, long while, the creases on his face had evened out, he looked relaxed.
It wasn't until late morning that Arthur left the room, his expression heavy. Gwen sat on the floow, waiting for him. When Arthur closed the door behind him, she stood and wrapped her arms around him. "I didn't want you to be alone." She sobbed brokenly into his shoulder.
Merlin's mother arrived that day, as fate would have it. She smiled, greeting Arthur warmly as he walked to meet her in the courtyard. But her cheer vanished as she saw the look on Arthur's face, concern took over her features and he only had to speak Merlin's name before she crumpled.
She made no sound, she simply folded into the ground in a broken heap. Arthur knelt on the wet ground and slid his arms around her, gathering her up in his arms and holding her close to his chest, there was nothing he could do to comfort a woman who had just lost her son. The incredible weight of her grief sank on him too, and they shared the pain as they knelt in the rain for a long, long time.
:x:X:x:
Merlin's funeral was surprising, and would have been lovely had he not been saying good-bye to someone he cared for. Many of the servants were close to him, the knights as well, and so many others from the city. Merlin's influence was endless, it seemed, and he ran his fingers across the soft fabric of the neckerchief Merlin always wore. He wore it now – it seemed more comforting to carry a piece of him around at all times, as though he could convince himself that Merlin was, somehow, still with him.
He could hardly believe that Merlin was dead.
He spoke for a long time with Gaius and Hunith, after the funeral, Merlin's story unravelled slowly to him. Merlin kept so many secrets, and shared so little.
Arthur missed him something awful.
The rain washed everything away and kept everyone inside for the most part. He would often go stand in it, lost in thought, as if he waited for Merlin to come back to him. He knew it was foolish, Merlin wasn't coming back. The dead couldn't come back to life.
It was still difficult to swallow the knowledge that Merlin had taken his own life. He felt as though he had failed his friend, and though he knew no one was to blame – he couldn't forgive himself. He should have forced Merlin to speak; he should have made sure Merlin slept in his bed with him instead of in the room so he couldn't sneak out. He should have encouraged Merlin to open up to him and share his secrets. He should have done so much more than he actually had, he should have tried harder.
And he would never forget his first glimpse of Merlin's body on the ground.
Weeks passed, the rain eventually stopped but it seemed to rain more often than it ever had before. Hunith was given a nice room within the castle, and invited to stay here. She taught children how to read, and as the time grew, the ragged lines under her eyes began to disappear.
Gaius was teaching Hunith to take over his position, because he didn't think he could handle it anymore. He believed he had failed too many times now; too many had taken their lives when he should have been taking care of them. So he was stepping down, he looked as though he was half a corpse already, his eyes lifeless and his aging skin pale.
Gwen was a mess for a long time, but became close friends with Hunith. The two of them helped each other, and after many weeks she was back to her old self. She too had aged, just as they all had. He knew she wouldn't forget that she lost a friend – but she didn't show it that often anymore.
The knights were sombre, and they had erected a little memorial to Merlin in the armoury. They, too, moved on.
Arthur couldn't.
It wasn't as though he could forget about Merlin, he had been an important part of his life. He missed him – and he wished he could relieve those days before Merlin's death over and over again, so he could convince him to stay alive and keep fighting. He wanted nothing more than he have him back, it felt as though half of him were missing. The longing was agony, and he found he wasn't able to be close to Gwen anymore without feeling bitter.
He had lost his passion for her, and though he still cared about her, he couldn't do anything about it. He wished, more than anything else, that he could see Merlin one last time.
A year passed.
Then another one. | b8a1f7b040ff412a8211d509a71faac3 | ['7034dabb46524ceba57491f40a111eb0'] | He loved her – not as much as he had loved Arthur (he was beginning to forget how nice it had been to hold onto something like love), but he had loved her anyways. He loved her enough to try to take her away from Camelot. He wanted a simple life, away from Camelot, where he could perform magic tricks for her and she would give him that kind smile again. He wished that he had been able to save her, but his magic had been no real use, not that he knew how to heal back then. He had carried her to the lake, and watched her burn.
He missed her, and wished that he had tried to hide her instead. It might not have been the best life, but he could have hid her until everything blew over, then they could get away. Then Merlin wouldn't have made so many mistakes, he could have been _happy_.
Merlin had been given one good and positive and happy thing – a young woman who was kind and grateful that he loved her, and she had been taken away from him.
The memories wouldn't go away, no matter what he did. He tried almost anything, brewing potions that would give him a dreamless sleep and overworking himself to the point of complete exhaustion but nothing worked. Every night he relieved the events in his life that led him to where he was now.
Merlin was late constantly, he would rather be sleeping than be awake when he felt the weight on his shoulders. Even if his sleep was ravaged by pained memories, it was better than being awake, anything was better than being awake. Arthur didn't seem to notice, which was good. Merlin didn't really want to answer if Arthur had ever tried asking, Gaius' concern at the dinner table was more than enough. He still kept up fake smiles that didn't crinkle his eyes the way they did before, he still joked with Arthur, and when his remarks became more savage and less playful, Merlin retreated so he wouldn't cross any of the lines that Arthur had drawn for them.
Most of his chores were done with magic, so he could get them over with so he could go back and sleep. If he were lucky, he was able to avoid Gaius in the evening so he didn't have to choke down another meal. Everything turned to sand in his mouth.
One night, early autumn, Gaius was sitting at the table, his fingers on a note, his expression grim. Merlin sat down across from him, asking him what was wrong.
"Do you remember Audrey?" He asked, his voice was gentle.
"Yeah, she's the one who—" He broke off, she had been pregnant when the dragon attacked – her husband had died and in the resulting stress, she had lost the baby.
Gaius sighed heavily, "I should not have released her." He said quietly. "She assured me she had someone to go to. She didn't tell me she was alone."
Merlin knew what she had done before Gaius finished. He felt the weight of her, and her unborn child, sink onto his shoulders. Another life lost because of him. She was another innocent soul who had sunk into oblivion. "She thanked me" Gaius said gently, "for being there for her. And apologized."
Merlin left Gaius alone, knowing there was nothing he could do to help. He hid in his room, locked the door, and pulled his knees to his chest. How could it be that one person was responsible for all these lives being lost? How could he continue living knowing what he had personally caused? The last time he saw her, she looked so happy – like she was moving on and that she would be okay.
Though he knew that the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Gaius, it had been on his mind. If he weren't around, then no one else would have to suffer at his hands. Maybe he could trust Gwen with protecting Arthur, he was sure she would be happy to help. He was the last of the Dragonlords, but did that really matter with only one dragon left alive? Maybe he could give him one last command, tell him that he was never to harm another human for as long as he lived, before Merlin was gone. He could tell Arthur that he loved him, because Arthur was destined for greatness and many before him had fallen for the prince. He knew that his knights, the ones he trained and worked to the bone, loved him deeply. Arthur would be fine so long as his knights were with him, and so long as Gwen could love him and take care of him. He would fulfil his destiny on his own, he would be fine and so long as Merlin kept his secrets, then more people were going to die because of him.
He didn't want the burden anymore, of both this foolish destiny and the countless deaths and pain he had caused. Everyone else would live on without him.
The next day Gwen stopped him, grasping his arm and asking him what was wrong. Concern was written on her face and though he wasn't going to tell her everything, he would burden no one else with his pain, he told her what Gaius had told him. Just that he was upset over the loss of another life he had known. She embraced him, and he gladly held her and let his composure drop for a few moments in the safety of her arms. When they parted, she pressed her palm to his cheek and told him that she was always there for him. |
a5b9791467ca4222aa930c404e59c173 | ['7048602a2ed7471287101630286e2b20'] | Arthur laughed and pulled Merlin down gently by one of his ears. Merlin’s eyes fluttered close as he internally sighed in relief. This was Arthur, his lover, his best friend. This was familiar. Just Arthur. Just an eleven year old Arthur.
Merlin stopped and his eyes shot open just in time to see Arthur jerk to a halt as well, and stare at him with a frown. “Merlin. I feel like a pedophile.”
Merlin closed his eyes and tried not to think how he wasn’t going to get any for the next five years, and about not killing a certain old man.
*
“Hello there, old chap!”
Merlin would never admit that he screamed like a little girl, as he clutched his bath towel around his waist.
“Salazaar! For God’s sake, we’re in the bathroom! How the fuck did you learn to get into mirrors?”
Salazaar grinned unrepentantly at him. Benjamin Summers entered the bathroom, stopped, glanced between Merlin and Salazaar, and nearly broke his foot in an attempt to flee from the bathroom, stammering his apologies as he went. Merlin bet that within the next 5 minutes, the news that The Great Merlin was communing with the Founders in the bathroom, starkers, would spread within the House like wildfire.
“How’s First Year life treating you?”
Merlin brandished his toothbrush at the mirror. “Everyone thinks I’m going to blow them up if they breathe wrongly in my direction, I’ve had eight students ask me whether I’m going to be teaching a class, one asked me whether I am here to rebuild Hogwarts, and the rest of the First Years tried to pay me homage by offering to sacrifice their pets.”
“Excellent!” beamed Salazaar. “And how’s Arthur?”
Merlin snorted as he applied the toothpaste on his toothbrush. “He’s already gained a group of followers, is strutting around the school like he owns it, which he probably does, and he’s petitioning to join the Quidditch team and school hasn’t even officially started yet.”
“Sounds like you’re having fun. Are you ready for classes?”
“Oh fuck off and go bang Godric or whatever it is you do in your spare time. Oh wait, you’re a painting - you can’t.”
“Oh, why don’t you go and shag Arthur against the wall or whatever it is you do in your spare time? Oh wait, I forgot, you’re children - you can’t.”
Salazaar’s laughter was audible even as he ducked out of the mirror as Merlin threw his brush at him.
*
Arthur pulled Merlin into the seat beside him during their first class, glaring out of the way a simpering girl who slinked away back to her friends who huddled around her in comfort.
Merlin dumped his books on the table and then flopped his head onto Arthur’s shoulder, relaxing when the latter ran a hand through his hair. He was just about to doze off, when a minuscule man scuttled into the classroom and Arthur began to chuckle in amusement.
Professor Flitwick, as the man was called, began the roll after clambering on top of a stack of books, and promptly fell off when he reached Merlin’s name, and for a second time when he reached Arthur’s.
Merlin caught him at both times in a flash of gold, and the Professor squeaked to the rest of the class that yes, Mr Emrys had just demonstrated what they were going to be doing today. Levitation.
Halfway into the lesson, Merlin had grown bored of making his feather zoom around and poke random people, and was wondering about how much trouble he would get into for working everyone’s feathers into a mini-tornado, when Arthur tugged at his sleeve and Merlin turned to look.
His breath caught.
Arthur had a brilliant grin adorning his face, clutching his wand and gazing in wonder at his floating feather. Merlin had rarely seen his face so free of any stress, of any hint of their troubled pasts.
Arthur turned around to beam at Merlin, and sounded breathless with excitement. “I’m doing magic, Merlin! Magic! No wonder you’re always doing it, it feels bloody brilliant!”
And Merlin thought of all the times that Arthur had wistfully watched Merlin create the Pendragon emblem out of thin air, of all the times Arthur had watched Merlin brew, cast and even fly, and Merlin had seen that want on his face.
And every complaint Merlin had of this situation flew out of his head. He grasped Arthur’s left hand and ran a finger over his knuckles, and let his head fall back onto the desk.
A holiday, he smiled, he could do this. As long as he could ignore the portrait of Godric behind his head, pulling faces.
*
Fifth Year
Merlin sat under a tree in the courtyard, with Arthur lying in his lap, both of them reading, getting ready for the OWLS which were less than 2 months away.
“Hey dudes.” Arthur lifted the book away from his face, and lethargically looked up at Hugo Weasley and waved a hand in greeting.
“So my dad was like, I could have you over for the holidays, yeah? But dudes, my mum would totally interrogate you the entire time, so just warning you in advance. And isn’t that a bit gay?”
Merlin looked up from his book and frowned. “What?”
Hugo stared pointedly at Merlin’s left hand, which was threading through Arthur’s hair.
“Dude, that’s like totally gay.”
“No,” said Arthur calmly, and shit Merlin knew that tone of voice, and Arthur was going to do something extremely rash, he was going to ruin the rest of their school lives, he was –
“This is gay.” | ef20adf7226f43f0a0f12db0f307db46 | ['7048602a2ed7471287101630286e2b20'] |
The One With The Step-Father and the Son Who Is In Love
**Author's Note:**
> This has to be my favourite story line in "Love, Actually". So I hope I did it justice! Concrit is always welcome!
That Merlin was upset was only natural – Gaius would have been even more worried if he wasn’t, the child had loved his mother fiercely. But Gaius didn’t know what to do anymore. He had had a vague notion that yes; maybe someday he would have liked to have children, but then he met Hunith, and look she had an absolute rascal of her own! And Gaius had taken to Merlin when he first met him, had adored him even while courting Hunith, and continues to love him as if Merlin was his own.
It was just that he thought Hunith would still be here to love Merlin as well, stepping in when Gaius is unable to figure what on earth he’s supposed to be doing with a twelve year old boy who thinks an idea of a good time is exploding things with his mind or with controls connected to a tv.
And now Hunith is gone, Gaius is alone and Merlin curls more and more into himself each day, exhaling sadness with every breath.
“His mother is dead,” he tells Morgana, as she sweeps the shop front and he tries to figure out why the cashier is jammed for the umpteenth time. “He’s got every right to mope and sulk, but what if it’s not just that? What if he’s doing drugs as an outlet for his grief, or because of peer pressure? What am I going to do if he goes into fits at the dinner table? My back isn’t what it used to be, I wouldn’t be able to carry him anywhere.”
Morgana rests a hand on his shoulder, startling him out of his self-pity. “Gaius, you love the boy and he clearly loves you. So stop being ridiculous and talk to him. Far worse people than you have been fathers.”
*
He remembers being twelve, and how difficult everything was even without the death of a parent. And Christ, Merlin hasn’t even reached high school yet. Even _breathing_ was dramatic at high school. Thank God for small mercies.
They’re sitting on a bench in the park and Merlin gets halfway through eating a massive cone of chocolate ice cream, before Gaius musters the courage to speak.
He wipes the dripping chocolate from the end of Merlin’s ear (and how on earth did it even get on there?) and finds hope in the small smile Merlin shoots him and says, “We need to talk.”
Merlin turns to face him, all sharp elbows and the beauty of Hunith’s eyes. He’s at the gangly stage right now, but sooner or later he’ll grow into his limbs and turn out to be good-looking (growing into the ears, Gaius is not so sure about). That’s another worry for another time, though. “What’s wrong?”
“You do know you can come to me at anytime?”
“Yeah,” says Merlin, looking confused.
“I was just wondering if anything was the matter. Is it – is it just your mother, or something else? Has anything happened at school, are you being bullied? Anything I can help with?”
To his surprise, Merlin blushes and looks down at his shoes. Gaius looks at Merlin’s shoes, too, in case this was some sort of twelve-year old code he wasn’t aware of.
“Do you really want to know?” mumbles Merlin, “Even if you won’t be able to help at all?”
“Yes, of course! What is it?” asks Gaius.
“The truth is,” stutters Merlin. “Well the truth is, I’m in love.”
Gaius gapes for a bit, before he realises that Merlin is waiting for a response. “Sorry?”
Merlin looks worriedly at him. “I mean I know I’m supposed to be upset about Mother all the time, and I am! But the truth is, I’m in love and there’s nothing anybody can do to help me.”
Gaius laughs at out sheer relief, but quickly shuts up once Merlin shoots him a scandalized look. “Aren’t you a bit too young to be in love?”
“Of course not!”
“Alright then,” Gaius sighs. “But I don’t understand why you have to be so depressed about it.”
“Gaius,” says Merlin seriously. “I am forever chained to the feeling of sheer agony that is love, as I pine for someone who will never like me. Why wouldn’t it be agonising? I'm fucked.”
Gaius opens his mouth, but then reconsiders. “No, you’re right. That is agonising.”
*
“It’s somebody at school, yes?”
Merlin pauses in the process inhaling of his pasta, and fiddles with the fork. “Yeah.”
“So, I was at school once, too. I know how this goes. Tell me about it. Is she – he a friend of yours?”
Merlin fiddles some more, before saying, “ _He_ thinks I’m stupid. And even if he didn’t, there’s no way he’d ever notice me other than someone to push around, because he’s the most popular, good looking boy in school, and all the girls want him.”
He looks up at Gaius’ frown and hurriedly adds, “I mean, he’s not a bully. Well, he was when he moved here at the beginning of the year, and then I yelled at him for ordering Lancelot around, and he's hated me ever since. But he’s really nice to everyone, now. And I really, really like him.” Merlin pouts and plays with the tablecloth. “And he’s really sweet, like when he gave the orphaned girl all of his lunch money, and he pretends to be all tough, but he’s incredibly sweet, really. But he’d rather die than admit it in public.”
Gaius gives the boy the benefit of the doubt, because Merlin would never defend anyone who didn’t deserve it. He quirks a smile at Merlin’s expression.
“Well you’re basically done for, aren’t you?” |
112fc0a1be1648fc88a51a0d060ce60b | ['7072727c7edc4746bd3139d43ac04882'] | Nico smirked and gave Maki one of her best smiles. “I knew you appreciated all of Nico’s hard work.”
“ShutupI’mleaving.” Maki mumbled quickly.
Maki turned to leave and a brief, so-dumb-it might-actually-work idea flashed through her head.
“Nishikino-san, wait.” Nico grabbed her boss’ arm.
“Bweh?”
Nico spoke with as much confidence as she could muster. “If I can’t be your housekeeper anymore, then instead how about we get married?”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I've been working on this for a long time since I write really slowly (think 1k word chunks whenever I'm free), and I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Also I'm sorry for the almost excessive use of time jumps. From now on, it should be less time jumpy. Also not a whole lot of NicoMaki banter, but it should pick up once Nico is less afraid of getting fired. I'll get the next one out the next chance I get, some time in between AX prep and work. ;w; Thanks for reading! EDIT: Realized my formatting was a little off, so I fixed it.
2. Maki's Decision?!
A deep red spread across Maki’s cheeks. “Bweeeeeeeh?” She repeated, much longer this time.
“Of course, it’d be a contract marriage, so I’d just do all the things I normally do for you, just every day! With a paid salary and since I’d share benefits from your job through marriage, it’d be just like a full-time job! And who wouldn’t want to spend every moment with Nico?” Nico spoke quickly, trying to explain her wild idea.
Confusion was still apparent on her boss’ face so she decided to drop the topic entirely. “N-never mind. It was a joke, nico!” Nico said, performing her signature pose. “Have fun at work, Nishikino-san!” Nico sang as she slowly guided the still-shocked Maki out the door with gentle shoves on her back. After her boss regained her autonomy near the staircase and began her trek to work, Nico shut the door and slid onto the floor. _Where in the world did that bright idea come from?!_ Nico sighed and stood up, stretching as she surveyed the room. Hopefully Maki would forget all about it by the end of the day.
\--
“Instead, how about we get married…” Maki whispered to herself. Much like the simple loop that somehow took her an hour to write, Nico’s words swirled around in her mind, seeming to come and go whenever was most inconvenient for her. “What does that mean? I don’t get it…” she muttered, trying to figure out what part of the program she was working on last.
“Having relationship trouble, Maki?” A calm voice asked with a soft giggle. “I’ve never seen you so frazzled over something involving someone else before. Usually you can just shut out the world and work. It’s honestly impressive.”
“Hey Umi. Umm… I-It’s about a friend.” Maki stuttered, sheepishly moving her hands to lock her computer. Umi shot her a look which seemed to say _Which friend?_ but Maki rolled her eyes. “I have other friends outside of work, you know. Lunch?” Umi nodded and waved her bento at Maki. Sliding her chair out from under the desk, she took her lunch out from under her desk. Following Umi to the break room Nico’s proposal haunted Maki once more. Maybe Umi could give her some advice.
Settling into her usual seat, Umi looked up at Maki. “So, what about marriage was bothering your friend?” Umi questioned her co-worker.
Maki sighed as she unwrapped her bento. “What do you think the words ‘Instead, how about we get married?’ mean? I-I mean another girl told her that. What could it possibly mean…?” Splitting her chopsticks, she began to eat as she awaited Umi’s answer.
“Well it seems that the other girl doesn’t seem one-hundred percent ready to make a commitment, right?” Well of course not, Maki figured, it was just marrying her for a job. “But for her thoughts to have gotten that far, it could mean this girl at least likes your friend well enough.” Eh? Nico liked her? Well she had to if she kept going above and beyond just cleaning and making sure the apartment didn’t look messy. “Maki, you seem really into this.” These words shook Maki out her thoughts. Ceasing playing with her food, Maki looked up at Umi.
“Ah, it’s just a really close friend of mine, so I-I’m worried.” Maki said, her face flushed. Umi stared incredulously at the other girl. Right. Umi was her best friend after all.
“Close friend? Wait… don’t tell me that’s how Eli got proposed to?” Umi asked in shock. “That’s so untraditional! Which kind of makes sense given all the things she’s told us about Nozomi…” Maki internally sighed in relief. At least Umi hadn’t picked up the actual subject of the conversation.
“Ummmmmm sure… Just don’t tell Eli about this, okay?” Maki asked, praying that Umi wouldn’t suspect anything.
“Don’t tell me about what?” A new voice rang out in the lunchroom.
“Ah! Nothing at all! Our Maki is just having some relationship troubles.” Umi said, returning her attention to her food. Maki screamed internally. The last thing she wanted was Eli _who knew Nico_ to find out about how she was seriously considering that proposal. It was a joke, right? Right?
“Our Maki is all grown up…” Eli pretended to wipe a tear from her eye. “Already having adult problems.”
Maki groaned. “Sh-shut up.” She stared at the food in front of her. _Nico’s_ food. The morning’s words floated through her head again.
Mama and Papa had been pushing her to start dating and get married… No.
She was still considering the morning’s “joke” proposal. Something _had_ to be wrong with her.
\-- | 20d7ffda736c4dadb043300ada0d1b70 | ['7072727c7edc4746bd3139d43ac04882'] | Nico ran through her mental checklist of things she did for Maki. Cleaning up the trash? Done. Dusting? Done. Laundry? Folded up and in the closet. Bed? Made. And Nico’s personal project of having Maki eat well? Lunch boxes packed until her next visit. Nico did a fist pump. All in a day’s work for the universe’s number one housekeeper, Nico!
Now that she was no longer distracted with work, the morning’s events began to haunt Nico once more. Why had that stupid program before the idol program had such a dumb, wild idea? It frustrated the heck out of Nico. Especially because for some unknown reason, she thought it would be good to ask the most socially awkward person in her life to _marry_ her. Nico buried her face into one of Maki’s couch pillows. All she could do was hope Maki forgot all about that interaction.
A vibration and an “Washi Washi MAX!” ringtone stole Nico’s attention away from her misery. ‘Nicocchi come back home and help me pack~ c;’, the text read. That’s right. Nozomi was still getting ready to move out. Nico triple checked everything in Maki’s apartment, before leaving and locking the door on the way out.
“NICOCCHI~” Nozomi called right as Nico entered their apartment. A sudden hug enveloped Nico, its constriction causing her to gasp for air.
“H-Hi Nozomi. Would you mind letting me go? Can’t. Breathe.” Nico breathed a deep breath as the hug loosened itself and Nico no longer saw the path to heaven.
“Sorry, Nicocchi. I just miss Elicchi. Work has started to pick up again. The hospitals are “upgrading their OSes” and she “has to make sure the transition goes smoothly” or something like that. And after that little show of force from the main branch, work for me is starting to get stressful with how anxious everyone is…” Nozomi dramatically rested her head on her friend’s shoulder.
Nico pat Nozomi on the head. “Honestly, it’s good that you two spend some time apart. It’s kind of scary how in love you two are. And I’m sure your work will be okay. You’ve been running your branch for how many years again?” Nico could feel a muffled “two” being mumbled into her shoulder. “See? You’ve totally got this, Nozomi. Now go sit down and I’ll make you some food, okay?”
Nozomi peeled herself off Nico and nodded, moving to sit on the couch while her friend went to make dinner.
Nico sighed. Today certainly was the weirdest day for her.
As Nico prepped her weapons of choice for the battlefield of cooking, a slight knock was heard on the door. “Who is it?” she called out. A heavy silence remained. Another knock, quieter this time, was barely audible. She sighed. Perhaps it was an exhausted Eli, tired from work and wanting to surprise the moping Nozomi.
Clad in her pastel pink apron and panda pajamas, Nico opened the door to see a sight she had never expected. A certain girl whose cheeks were currently flushed as red as her hair.
“N-Nishikino-san?!” Nico cried out. A thousand questions raced through Nico’s mind.
“Yazawa-san.” Maki spoke, her eyes on the ground and her finger twirling a lock hair.
“What are you doing here?” Nico asked, the only question that came to mind. Unbeknownst to her, the surprise visitor piqued Nozomi’s interest as well.
“I umm… I…” Maki searched for words she planned so carefully before coming over. “I came to answer your proposal.” She said quickly.
“EEEEEEEH?!” Nico had never been so shocked in her life. This had to be a dream. Nico had fallen asleep on the couch in Maki’s apartment, right? Right?! Nico glanced behind her and hoped Nozomi was still watching the television, despite all the noise that she was making. Oh no. No. Please.
Nico made a shushing gesture, but Maki’s eyes were shut tight as she continued. “L-Let’sgetmarried, Yazawa-san!” Oh no. Nico turned her head to see a dangerous smirk spread across Nozomi’s lips.
What had Nico done to deserve a day like this?
\--
Nico dragged herself to work on Thursday after the barrage of questions and implications from Nozomi over the past day and a half. Knocking on the door, Nico was greeted by a Maki who seemed like she had barely gotten any sleep for at least a night or two. The two stared awkwardly at each other for a moment, still trying to process what had occurred over the past week.
“Come in, Y-Yazawa-san. I’ve, um, been working on something,” Maki mumbled, before walking further into her apartment. Nico stepped into the apartment and was surprised to see the room not nearly as much of a mess compared to previous Thursdays, but a quick peek into Maki’s bedroom revealed a trail of crumpled printer paper leading to the couch. At least a bunch of paper was easier to clean than some of the other things she had to clean in Maki’s apartment. Maki cleared her throat, furrowing her brow as she tried to figure out what to say to her housekeeper (or fiancée now? Nico has no idea) “Uhm, please sit down.” As Nico pulled a chair out, Maki scurried into her room before emerging with a fresh sheet of paper. “I drew this up since we last talked. Are these terms alright?”
Nico’s eyes skimmed the document. One line read ‘I, Nishikino Maki agree to pay…’ This was… a contract? Oh! For the marriage. “Jeez Nishikino-san, did you stay up all night writing this for Nico?” Nico asked with a smile, her nerves easing up a little.
“Sh-shut up. It was just to make this easy and official, that’s all,” Maki said, beginning to twirl her hair a bit again. “A-anyways, is there anything else you think needs to be added?” |
5c22ce77c9aa458dbf28feeca808dae4 | ['708616bf80ee48c6b5fbbff731b00d72'] |
Strength
**Author's Note:**
> This is my debut work on this site and I hope you like it! ~Ronnie!
Disclaimer: I don’t own TMNT. (obviously) There would be secret ships everywhere.
Setting: After the Showdown episodes of TMNT 2012
Bored.
Michelangelo was bored and when Mikey gets bored, things get broken. Leo knew this better than he would like to admit so out of fear for the lasting peace in The Lair, he picked both Mikey’s and his own skateboards up and head in his hyperactive brother’s direction. Michelangelo was on the floor in the middle of the living room playing with some paint he had found in Donatello’s lab.
Leo's timing: perfect.
Leo stood behind Mikey and looked down at his painting. Michelangelo had not appeared notice his older brother’s presence and continued to paint, his uncharacteristic laser focus unwavering despite his audience. Leo watched in amazement as his hyperactive little brother painted with the patience and accuracy of himself with his katana.
What Michelangelo had been painting was just as surprising. It was Leo on a rooftop holding a strong stance, Dual katana in his hands. Above Leonardo's head a single word had been painted carefully in Japanese.
"Strength." Michelangelo muttered.
"What?" Leo had almost squeaked.
"You are strength." Mikey stated clearer than before.
"I don't understand."
"Dude, I see you doubting yourself all the time. Whether you are staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror in the morning or repeating the same kata over and over again because you aren't satisfied with your ‘execution’ or ‘form’ or whatever else you want to nit pick yourself about. You don't see how we see you, Donnie, Raph, and me. We see you as our strong and brave Leader that holds the weight of the world with the grace of no other. You are our strength, Leo. My strength." Michelangelo ranted, finishing with a huge breath.
Mikey handed Leo the painting and stood up to give his big brother the biggest hug he could muster as Leo dropped the skateboards, currently caring none for their safety.
Seeing your brother almost explode then free fall off a skyscraper AND go down with an alien ship can make one emotional. It made Mikey realize just how much he cares for his brother in blue. Leo hugged him back with every ounce of compassion he held and just paused.
No moving.
No speaking.
Just his brother’s embrace and their synchronized heartbeats until the silence was broken by a sniffle on Mikey's part. Leonardo softly pulled away from his younger brother to look at his face only to see tears silently streaming down his freckled cheeks after pooling in his mask.
"Mikey what's wrong?" Leo questioned whilst gazing into watery,baby blue eyes worriedly.
"I-" Mikey began but was soon cut off by a suppressed sob as he glanced back and forth. Mikey didn’t like to be seen crying by his brothers and Leo understood this so he scooped Mikey up, carried him to his room and quietly shut the door behind him. He then plopped Mikey down in his lap whilst he sat on Mikey's bed, like they did when they were kids. Leonardo wrapped his arms around his little brother and let him sob into his chest.
Michelangelo continued to cry and mutter broken phrases into his big brother's chest for what seemed like a decade but was only about ten minutes in real time until he was reduced to whimpers and hiccups. Leo continued to hold him and rock him slowly back and forth until he was completely calm.
"Can you tell me why you were crying?" Leo questioned gently. Mikey nodded softly. "Okay. When you're ready."
"You almost died." Mikey whispered.
"What?"
"You almost DIED and left us behind, Bro! You were almost gone forever! You- you are our leader and strength, Leo! WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO WITHOUT YOU!? What am I supposed to do without you?" Mikey finished with more tears clouding his baby blue eyes and falling to follow the trail left by the tears that had fallen just minutes before.
"Mikey-"
"I love you, Leo. More than you know and watching you almost die, not once but twice made me realize that I can't keep this secret to myself anymore." Mikey said whilst looking up at Leo.
"What do yo-" Leonardo was cut off by warm lips crashing against his own. Leonardo's eyes widened in surprise as his younger brother wrapped his arms around his neck to pull him even closer than before. Leo’s eyes heavily shut as he began to reciprocate the kiss.
Leo’s tongue traced Mikey’s lower lip, asking for entrance. Michelangelo all too willingly allowed him access and Leo wasted no time prodding his tongue into the warm, wet cavern that is Mikey’s mouth. Mikey released a quiet moan and pulled Leo closer, if possible. There was no battle for dominance as Leo naturally took the leader’s position and Mikey had no complaints.
Alas, they pulled apart as the need for air became too great. They rested their foreheads against each other. “I love you.” Michelangelo whispered under his breath. “I love you so much it hurts and I wouldn't be able to go on living if you died!” A silent tear added to the streaks on Michelangelo’s freckled face. | febbafc4966649d1b5dac4cd41e7aeca | ['708616bf80ee48c6b5fbbff731b00d72'] | "Are you sure you want to do this because I'm not gonna lie, it hurts a lot at first." Leo asked
"Yes, I'm sure. Leo, I love you and if I’m gonna do this with anyone I want it to be you.” Mikey assured with a loving smile of his own. He reached up and cupped Leo’s cheek and softly pushed his lips against his own. They shared the most tender and passionate kiss yet, one that left them blushing and gasping for air. Leo pecked Mikey’s forehead and guided his hand downward.
Leo grasped his impressive girth and guided the head to Mikey’s dripping hole. He held his breath and squeezed the head past the tight ring of muscle. Mikey winced in pain and Leo gave him time to adjust. Mikey took a big breath and nodded to Leo in silent communication. Leo pulled out a bit then dove right back in until he was about half way.
“Ugh.” Mikey groaned squeezing his eyes shut. “Wait. Just, wait a minute.” Mikey breathed deeply for a few moments before pushing back on Leo. Leo got the message and buried himself to the hilt in Mikey’s ass.
“Fuck.” Leo cursed. It took all the discipline he had acquired through years of discipline and training not to ravage the terrapin beneath him. Leonardo waited until he felt Mikey relax around him.
“Move.” Mikey tried. Leo gave him a few small thrusts- just to test the waters. Mikey moaned quietly at the feeling and Leo took that as encouragement. He pulled out about half way and rammed back in. Mikey let out a loud moan as Leo grunted.
“So tight.” Leo groaned. Leo gripped the back of Mikey’s knees and pushed them up until they were touching his stomach. “You have been such a good boy, Michelangelo. Good boys get rewards. Are you ready?” Leo smirked. Mikey frantically nodded in response. Leo pulled out all the way and slammed back in, hitting that special bundle of nerves in Mikey’s ass.
“AH!” Mikey screamed as he was hit with an intense pleasure. Leonardo groaned as Mikey quivered around him. “Again! Right there!”
Leo pounded his brother into the mattress whilst Mikey moaned and writhed on the sheets under him. Leo thrusted even faster into the youngsters hot ass than before, completely driven and fueled by the wanton moans falling from his mate's lips.
The room was filled with a heavy musk and the sound of skin slapping against skin accompanied by Moans and churrs echoing off the walls and ceiling. Michelangelo’s head was thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, a stream of saliva dripping off his chin and down his neck. “F-Fu-AH! More! Harder!” Mikey all but screamed.
Leo agonizingly slowed his thrusts and Mikey whimpered. “Good boys beg, Mikey.” Leo smirked and licked up the mess he was making.
“P-please! Leo! Faster!Harder! A-Anything just do it fast, Master, PLEASE!” Mikey cried. Leo gave a echoing moan at being called master as he pounded his beautiful orange-clad mate into oblivion whilst his hand became a blur over his dripping cock. “AH-nng! Leo! yesyesyes!”
“AH! Mikey! I-I’m close!” Leo groaned and panted, snapping his hips at an impossible speed.
“I- ‘m too~! AH-oooh FUCK!” Mikey grabbed the back of Leo’s neck and pulled him into a hard kiss. Leo- if possible- got a little harder inside of his mate. Leo’s thrusts got more and more frantic and uneven as he approached his climax. Mikey began to buck his hips against his brother’s thrusts wildly.
“L-LEO! I’M C-COMING!!” Mikey screamed at the top of his lungs as rope after rope of white come splattered on his plastron and chin. Leo wasn’t far behind him as he came with a victorious shout followed by a feral growl. Mikey groaned as he felt Leo fill him to the brim with his come and ride out their highs.
Leonardo pulled out of Michelangelo and collapsed beside him. Mikey shivered and whimpered as he felt Leo’s semen drip out of his ass. They lie together panting, trying to catch their breath. “That *pant* was *pant* AWESOME!” Mikey gushed.
“Well I’m glad you enjoyed.” Leo chuckled, laying on his side. Leo got up and got a wet washcloth to clean Mikey up. He whipped Mikey’s plastron and licked his come from his chin before kissing Mikey hard, forcing him to taste his own essence and Mikey churred at the bitter-sweet taste. Mikey lie his head on Leo’s chest and sighed happily.
“Thank you”
“For what?” Leo asked.
“For everything. For almost sacrificing your life to save ours to just holding me whilst I cried like a baby.” Mikey clarified.
“That’s why I’m here, baby!” Leo said with a wide smile before tenderly kissing his mate. “I love you, Mikey.”
“I love you too, Leo.” and they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
**Author's Note:**
> Cliché ending, I know but in corny like that. I have exsiting news for you, my people.
> I TAKE REQUESTS AND ROLEPLAY OPPROTUNITIES.
> I love to write and conspire with people!
> Okay thats it.
> BYEEEE!!!<3
> ~Ronnie! |
522e210660384f8882a104041f60f8ce | ['708fe43068a74a368f3fd2076bb9416f'] | "Put it on," said Jack, tired eyes fixed on Draconian.
The Dignitary looked flatly from Jack to the ring.
"Go on. Do it, it's right there. You'd be prototyped before I could stop you. Put it on."
Draconian picked it up. All four tiny prototyping orbs were glowing with a soft white light, but the ring was no longer sparking or buzzing with power. It felt cool against his hand, and he considered for a moment. Considered slipping it on his finger, becoming that thing of raw power he'd seen envelop Jack, considered killing the Slayer and taking over as king and running this place _logically_ for once, never having to deal with the rest of Jack's stupid lackeys again...
He put it back down on the table where Jack had tossed it. "Don't be an idiot. All that green would clash horribly with every outfit I own."
Jack stared at him for a moment.
And started to laugh.
And walked over, still laughing, to sit down at the table in the folding chair Droll had most optimistically set up for him. He rested his elbows on the table and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, and the laughter turned slowly to a shuddering that wasn't quite crying. Droll and Draconian exchanged looks over his head, Droll's worried and questioning, Draconian's carefully blank, but conveying the same.
"Are you okay?" Droll asked, moving hesitantly to pat Jack on the back. Draconian absentmindedly reached out and caught his wrist before it could make contact.
"I'm an idiot," Jack muttered, voice muffled by his hands. "I'm a goddamn idiot. I just had to make sure."
"I don't want you dead, Jack," Draconian assured him flatly. "I never did, and yes, you were an idiot for believing it."
"Made so much sense when she said it," Jack said, more to himself than to Draconian. "All sounded so right."
"Of course it made sense; you're half-dead from exhaustion. Although the part about most of the kingdom wanting to kill you seems pretty justified." Draconian released Droll's wrist with a warning look, and ran a finger idly across the rim of his wineglass. "But we already knew that, we just underestimated it. We'll know to plan for it now."
"To hell with your damn plans." Jack reached across the table abruptly. For a split second something in Draconian's chest twisted uneasily as he assumed Jack was going for the ring, but a moment later the Slayer's hand closed over the wine, and he picked it up and took a swig straight from the bottle. "God it's good to have my left arm back. You know how hard it is to do paperwork when you're missing your dominant hand? It ain't a walk in the park, I'll tell you that."
"That wine was incredibly expensive," Draconian said, without much hope of Jack actually listening.
"Fit for your king then," said Jack, taking another swig. He raised the bottle shakily and grinned, more drunk on exhaustion than alcohol. "So, here's to whatever we're celebrating!"
"Hegemonic!" Droll supplied helpfully. "It's the memorial for him, remember? I put up all the streamers!"
"And they're hideous," said Jack. "To the Hegemonic Brute. He had..." his grin widened, and he waved the bottle around. "He had a... no, he... he had a good head on his shoulders! Wait no... _he never could keep his head_!"
"Jaaaaaack!" Droll giggled, while Draconian rolled his eyes.
"Is that really appropriate?"
"It's exactly as appropriate as the streamers. I didn't set the mood in here. Wait... I've got one... he knew how to get a _head_ in-"
"Are you even upset?" Draconian snapped coldly. "He's _dead_."
The grin slid slowly off Jack's face, and he set the bottle down and leaned back in his chair. "Why should I be? Just another pawn. He knew what he was getting into. He knew..." He rubbed his eyes again, shoulders slumping. "We all knew what we were getting into. All could've walked away, after I killed her."
"But we didn't," Droll said simply.
"Because you're idiots too," Jack mumbled. "Turns out we're all idiots. Idiots with a kingdom. Aughtta make that the official motto of Derse. And this... mourning, this memorial... this could only be the work of idiots." He groped for the bottle, and Draconian surreptitiously slid it out of his reach. "Not like he's dead forever. Just somewhere else."
Droll made a squeaky little "I knew it" noise.
"Did you forget who we _are?_ " Jack asked, sounding almost amused. "We'll be back next session. We come back every session."
"I don't think that counts though," said Droll. "Since we don't remember stuff from session to session. It's a different us." He thought for a moment. "Unless it's just me that doesn't remember stuff. You'd tell me if it was just me, right?"
"It's not just you," Draconian said with an irritated sigh.
"And thank god for that," Jack added. "All those damn lacy dresses I get to forget about."
He slid further down into his seat, started leaning dangerously sideways, and Draconian quickly caught him by the shoulder before he could fall out of his chair. Predictably, Jack tried to jerk away, but it was a half-hearted attempt. "Got a nice buzz from that last prototyping," Jack muttered dizzily. "Prob'ly wearing off by now..."
"So now we're right back where we started," said Draconian.
"I'm not coming up with any plans this time," Droll informed them seriously. "You guys really shouldn't have let me do the last one, I'm not the plan guy."
"Think," slurred Jack, leaning into Draconian's supporting arm, "Think I'm gonna go to bed now. Sleep for a _year_. Misplaced my ring, guess somebody else gets to be king for a while. Whoops. Lucky them."
Draconian picked up the queen's ring again and slid it into his pocket. "I'm sure your kingdom will still be here when you wake up."
"Ha, hey, I got another one... his head was... heads were _rolling_... no, that was terrible... that was barely even a pun..."
"Let's get you to bed, Jack," said Draconian, standing up and supporting Jack's weight.
"Dra... Draconian. Pawn. Draconian."
"Yes Jack?"
"If you get me a therapist while I'm out, I'll kill you."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thus ends an experiment in taking a total crackfic idea and seeing what would happen if we treated it seriously. It's been more than a year since this fic began, and I had a lot of fun writing it. Hopefully you had fun reading it, too. :) | a7d72e0600d941ed8a646566bbb99d34 | ['708fe43068a74a368f3fd2076bb9416f'] | Gamzee's throat goes tight. His hands close around the downy white fur beneath them and he doesn't want to ever let go again. He knows it's just a dream and he wants to pretend it's real. The Old Goat's voice is laughing, rich and warm and realer even than when he was a sprite. _Don't cry, Little Goat, I'm here._
"No you're not. Just a motherfuckin dream." And he cries anyway. Sobs into his guardian's back as he swims along, and the Old Goat murmurs consolingly, _I know, I know, I always leave, always stay away. I did wrong by that boy. I did wrong by my Little Goat._
"You're not here. You died on me," Gamzee manages, his voice muffled by his lusus's fur. "Died on me twice, up and left me like you always do, like you always motherfuckin do."
_I did wrong by you, Gamzee. I did wrong._
"I hate you. I hate you so much."
_I know. 'Bout time you learned how to do that._ He's still laughing, deeply, lovingly. He can take hate, he is a deep well into which Gamzee weeps, and nothing hurts him, only mingles with whatever pure thing lies within.
"You always left," Gamzee chokes out. "I thought... when you were a sprite... But you never motherfuckin stayed. Hate you so much. Hate you hate you hate you hate you hate you hate you..."
_Good,_ the Old Goat answers. _I'll take it. I deserve it. Hate me as much as you can, Little Goat, I was worried you had no hate in you. Worried I'd broken you somehow, when they told me what you were meant to be._
"You were fucking scared of me," he sobs.
_Not of you, little one, never of you. But you were so important, descended from someone so great, destined to grow into someone so great. I was afraid I couldn't do it. Afraid I'd ruin you if I was there. I did wrong by that boy, not a night goes by that I don't tell myself I did wrong by that boy._
"That's stupid. That's all kinds of stupid. I ain't nobody, didn't grow into nobody... couldn't even be a god the right way... I don't know how, they won't let me..."
_Who are you, Gamzee?_ his lusus asks gently.
"I dunno, Old Goat, I don't even fucking know no more..."
_Yes you do._
"Messiahs," he murmurs, pressing his face into deep white fur and letting it clear his eyes of indigo. "Both of them."
_Because?_
"There ain't nobody else for them to up and be. I gotta be them both or they ain't never gonna be nobody, and all we been praying to for generations is just... motherfuckin empty air. Gotta give those prayers somewhere to go. Gotta make them matter. I'm the last one left, the only one who can."
_It's alright, Little Goat. You saved their prayers. You gave them their gods._ His large, shaggy head turns around at last, and Gamzee raises his face out of the blanket of fur just enough to make out milky white eyes, shining and opalescent and empty, windows to some brighter light in another place. _I did wrong by you, and you still gave them their gods. I'm proud of you. I've always been so proud._
"I killed two people. I was just so motherfuckin mad at Equius, all the shit he always said to me." He rolls over onto his back and stares up at the sky, dark and void of moons or stars, deepening his voice to imitate Equius. "Have I ever told you what a reprehensible disgrace you are? What you do appear to know is e%actly how to ma%imize my livid contempt for you. I just hate you so much." Gamzee laughs humorlessly, feeling hollow. "I was gonna go all out. Paint me some new motherfucking scriptures in their blood, be the vengeful god I always thought I was praying to. If there had to be sacrifices, I'm glad it was him. Nepeta..." He trails off weakly. "I was real mad. And she just got in the way."
_And the others?_ the Old Goat asks understandingly, already knowing the answer, not judging, just waiting patiently for Gamzee to say it. _Your friends? Tavros? Karkat? It would have been him next, you know._
"I was so mad. Just so motherfuckin furious. Forgot what it was like to feel shit off the slime. Forgot how to up and stop."
_You'll learn, Little Goat. It isn't easy for anyone, and I was never there to teach you._
"I can't now. They won't... won't let me. Just gonna keep me stoned the rest of my motherfuckin life, 'cause I ain't safe when I'm sober. They think... think I'm some monster, like there's some sickness in my head they gotta keep down. Say it's okay now, 'cause they up and fixed me. I wasn't broken," he murmurs, the statement more question than anything.
_No, Little Goat, you were never broken._ That deep laugh envelops him, wraps around him, safe and loving and accepting. _You are perfect no matter who you are._
\- - - - - - - - - -
He wakes screaming (don't leave, DON'T GO, don't let it be a dream, DON'T LEAVE ME AGAIN), and someone is shaking him roughly by the shoulders, dragging him away from the Old Goat. Something acid in him boils over. He comes up fighting, his feet and fists flailing. His knuckles collide painfully with bone and with a triumphant howl he drags the intruder down and keeps punching, driving that head into the floor, flecking his hands with brilliant mutant red.
"OH GOD DON'T KILL ME" Karkat screams and seizes his wrists, so tightly that it hurts, and it's only then that the haze clears from Gamzee's eyes and the dream fades away to wherever dim place it is that all forgotten dreams go. |
4a182989964c48ada6c0fa8893880e79 | ['70962be9d70640bd8dadf93a2a4bdd39'] | It seemed only fitting. After all, in a place such as this, every one was out for themselves. It was true that he cared for the younger children, that he sympathized with their plight, but when it came down to it, he was not tutoring and teaching lessons for their benefit. Rather, he was doing it for the sole purpose of honing his own skills and garnering recommendations from his elders for when it came time to find employment elsewhere. He was doing it secure his own freedom. Even in the evening hours when he would sometimes illustrate lavish stories for whatever whelps wished to listen, he did it for his own enjoyment. He reveled in the wonder that shined in their eyes as he made them see the intricate landscapes that painted themselves in his mind. He adored their praise, their attention. And so all he did were for entirely selfish reasons.
Muldoon's untimely death had struck him quite the blow to the chest. Even if he would not admit it, even silently to himself, the loss had helped to shape the man he was now. He was no longer a child beaming with life and hope behind a solemn expression, but the polar opposite. Beneath that warm smile and silver tongue was nothing but cynicism and falsehoods. He had never known a truer friend, and he felt no desire to seek one out. Granted, that is not to say that he had turned his back on such relationships completely. After a few years he came to know a boy a bit older than himself by the name of Billy Manderly. Similar to himself, he was intelligent and lettered, and just like Muldoon, there was nothing but kindness in his heart. However, as their friendship slowly developed, another similarity eventually came to light. That was their shared interest in the touch of another man. It was truly laughable that two of the orphanages' favorites were actually sodomites, perverse sinners. If any of the nuns or pastors found out they would surely faint on the spot.
Needless to say, it was something that required the upmost care and secrecy. Only when the two of them were truly alone were they allowed to share a lingering touch or playful glance. In the cramped institution of St. John's, these opportunities were few and far between. Typically, they were reserved for those occasional trips into town to collect mail and send off the letters penned by their superiors, concerning one matter or another. It was a trip that would be taken by foot whenever the season and fickle weather allowed it. It made it far easier to disappear into the thick trees and shrubbery of the woods for a quick tryst. They had only come close to being discovered once, and that was only because of a twig and the remnants of a crumpled autumn leaf that had clung to John's hair.
Beneath the suspecting gaze of the pastor John dipped his head, clasped his hands before him, and confessed to his sins. That an argument had broken out between them and, by his own flawed hand, it had escalated to a physical confrontation. It was an excuse that worked easily enough, even though his feigned attempt at started a fight with his peer resulted in a swift caning. Still, it was far better than any alternative. At any rate, Billy found it rather amusing that he thought himself capable of starting a fight with him and leaving it with only rumpled clothing and a dirt in his hair.
By the time John turned eighteen he was now a man, both in the eyes of the law and the overseers at the institution. Finally, _finally_ , he could be free of this place. While Billy had chosen long ago to remain here as a teacher, he had always been too attached to the younger children, this was his opportunity to escape. Almost immediately he began advertising his talents as a teacher. Hearty letters of recommendation were provided by any who were solicited, and it wasn't long before he began receiving letters in return. Most were from small towns or estates in need of a tutor. However, none of them captured his interest. At least, not until one arrived that had been sent from a place titled Thornfield Hall. He knew that this would be his next stepping stone before he had even broken the seal of the envelope. This was not due to any magic or mysterious intuition, but rather by the simple fact that the name held no recollection in his memory. That alone showed that this estate, wherever it was, was far from here. That was what he truly wanted, to draw as far away from this accursed place as he possibly could.
Sure enough, the elegant and scrawling script nestled inside appeared most promising. Thornfield Hall was situated outside Whitechapel, a town to the far south of England, and belonged to a Sir James Flint. The person writing to him, signed simply as Max, conveyed they were in need of a teacher for the master's ward, a Miss Abigail Ashe. The promised wage was far more than the others --though still within the realm of reason for such a station--, proving that this estate was in good standing. Immediately he took to the drawing the room to fetch his quill and ink. He had found his golden opportunity. | 1b7ace29227347baa91b33c24333d4bd | ['70962be9d70640bd8dadf93a2a4bdd39'] | It only took him canceling on Miranda's plans once for her to tell that something was wrong. As she was in another city for a business trip, all she could do was sick Gates on him. The man showed up on a Tuesday afternoon at the time Miranda normally would. He was greeted with a rather unkempt James, dressed in sweatpants and a plain t-shirt, with a bottle in hand and a foul mood near the surface. Despite the drawback his friend remained surprisingly calm. He didn't try to talk James into returning to his appointments. He knew him better than that by now. Instead he encouraged him, begged him, to find some sort of healthy outlet. To get the hell out of this house, to talk to someone, anyone, about what he was going through. Gates took his shoulder in a comforting grasp as he assured him that this was a simple set back, nothing more.
Despite his initial unease, James found himself following his friend's advice. He continued to leave the house in lengthening increments. He would walk anywhere and everywhere he could. Eventually, he began to realize that the empty house was causing more harm than good. Without Miranda it lacked its usual warmth. It had become an empty shell, open and cold, and only personified his loss.
James tried his hands at several different trades just as Gates had suggested. He thought painting would be a good fit for expression. While it may have been for others, it caused him more frustration than anything else. Whatever he tried to illustrate turned into a frustrating mess. Writing was just as excruciating, if not more so. He couldn't find it in himself to create anything. Coupled with his struggle and the medicines that were supposed to help, he didn't have the focus. As a last ditch effort he bought a camera. A cheap, plastic toss-away from the drug store on the corner. To his surprise this was something he took to instantly. With photography there was no pressure to create something from a blank slate. Instead he could simply capture the world around him.
The trees and flowers, the cityscape, the old buildings he passed by every day... they each had the propensity to share a story or convey a feeling. With his camera he became an interpreter, a storyteller. And god, did he love it. More than that, he was quite talented at it. It was often said that every one had something they just naturally took to, and this was his. It was his release, his escape, his means of expression. And with each photo he took, each piece of scenery he captured, he found himself regaining pieces of who he had lost when Thomas died.
There was one other piece of his recovery that Miranda and Gates, all of them, really, insisted on. And that was social interaction. Since the car accident James had become quite the recluse. While he now found it in himself to leave the house for the better part of the day, he still spent the majority of it alone. Just he and his camera lens. He also spent several hours a week with Miranda, Gates or Charles, but apparently that didn't count. He needed to interact wiTh strangers, meet new people.
After ten months James felt well enough to finally humor this last bit of advice. Granted, he tweaked it a bit. Once a week he walked down to the pub to spend a few hours sitting at the bar. It was late enough in the week for there to be a crowd large enough to test the limits of his comfort zone, but not so much as to trigger an episode of panic. As it wasn't quite the weekend it wouldn't be too full of rowdy college students. It was loud, but not overly so. Most patrons were old enough to be seeking little more than a drink among pleasant company. There was always live music playing, too. Sometimes it was a single guitarist, sometimes it was a singer, and occasionally it was a small band. Always something different, but strangely similar at the same time.
While James didn't exactly converse with anyone but the bartender, a fairly young woman named Eleanor, he thought it was close enough to be considered socializing. At least he was spending time _around_ people, even if he didn't quite feel up to excessive conversation. Eventually the pub found its way into his strict routine. He walked down to that old building every Thursday, sat at the same seat at the bar, and ordered the same drink: Two apple cider lagers. Yet another benefit of this place was that it helped him drink in moderation. While photography proved to be a generous outlet for his emotions, he still found himself in a difficult state at home. Drinking alone made it far too easy to go on yet another binge.
As with everything, it was a start.
2. Recovery
The pub was a small, independent establishment called Nassau's. Apparently it was named after a small island located somewhere in the Caribbean. It possessed a certain charm. The floors and walls were a worn wood, washed in shades of gray and deep brown. The bar itself was sleek and lined with simple oak barstools. Oars and fishing nets hung against the walls, the large antiques interspersed with old parchments and charcoal drawings. Unlike most taverns there was no juke box lying in wait in the corner. Instead the owners and patrons seemed to prefer the authenticity of live music. |
dffe5506cafb4c03a503883a9a6d8218 | ['7099e2d644144627a7df1dd202c44e11'] | He tongued her slit briefly before moving up to lick at her clit. His mouth felt like heaven, laving her over and over again before sucking hard. Natasha ground herself against him, throwing her head back to rest against the cabinet and pressing her hips further to the edge, closer to his mouth. He was using lips and teeth and tongue to work her up, each touch making her moan. His fingers came into play, teasing her before thrusting up inside, immediately finding her g-spot and rubbing while his other hand reached up to pull the cup of her bra down and palm her breast as best he could.
Natasha's hips moved against the counter, bucking gently against Clint's chin. His eyes met hers at the exact moment his fingers pressed hard against that spot inside of her and his tongue worried her clit, and she said his name in that breathy way she knew made him crazy, squeezing her cunt around his fingers to keep them in place.
She gave herself over to the pleasure after that, rocking against his hands and his mouth and letting him make her feel good. He brought her higher and higher and her foot slipped off the counter, changing the angle at which his fingers worked her and she actually squeaked at the sensation. There was nothing for her to grab onto except for his hair and she held him in place as she felt that familiar fluttering. "I'm- Clint I'm going to-" she ground out and then came all over his face, wave after wave of pleasure slamming into her as she moaned and shook and nearly lost her mind from it.
He worked her down gently, tonguing her clit as his fingers eased out of her. His face and lips were shiny as he rose to kiss her, letting her taste herself on him, knowing she found it incredibly hot. Her tongue immediately came out to trace his lips and she sighed against him, letting him fuck her mouth with his, grinding her crotch against his stomach and smearing herself against his shirt.
"Clint," she said as his lips made their way to her neck. "Clint," a little more urgently this time. He lifted his head and quirked an eyebrow at her. She nodded at something behind his shoulder and he stiffened immediately, ready to spring into action against whatever threat was behind him. He turned his head. There was nothing. He looked back at her, confused, then back into the living room. Natasha nodded at the clock on the wall, pulling his head back to face hers so she could ghost her lips along his cheek to his ear. "That wasn't an hour."
She felt rather than heard his laugh, and then he was picking her up and carrying her to the dining room table. He laid her out like a feast, and she was content to lay back in her bra and garter as he first undid her knife holster with a knowing look and set it aside, and then pulled his shirt over his head and undid his jeans enough to pull his cock out.
"The lasagna is getting cold," Natasha reminded him as she reached a hand down to grasp him, thumb and middle finger meeting just barely around his girth before she pumped him a few times, her other hand playing with his balls. He had a beautiful cock, long and thick and straight, and Natasha was getting impatient to feel him inside of her again.
"Fuck the lasagna," Clint said, lining their lower bodies up with a hand on his dick. He rubbed his cockhead through the wetness she could feel leaking out of her, bumping into her clit and making her buck against him.
"Fuck me," she replied breathlessly, reaching both hands down to spread herself for him. With a groan he found her entrance and started to slide in, pulling back after an inch and then pushing in again. Natasha gripped him as he slid in a bit deeper and he bit back a groan.
"Tease."
"Who's teasing who here?" she pointed out as he did it again, his girth stretching her deliciously. Hooking both feet around his ass, Natasha used the leverage against his body to impale herself on his dick completely, feeling his balls slap against her gently at the force of her thrust. She threw her head back and cried out, and then Clint was fucking her hard, his hands surely leaving bruises on her hips as he held her in place.
"Fuck," Clint said, his voice husky, his eyes trained on the way her breasts bounced with each thrust, threatening to escape their satin prison each time he bottomed out against her. She met his rhythm, bringing her legs together in front of Clint and resting them against his chest, her feet near his ear, knowingly making herself tighter. She felt full to bursting and ready to pop. "Jesus Nat, how long do you want this to last?" he asked, turning his head to kiss her ankle.
"Make me come, Clint," Natasha demanded, "fuck me with that big dick of yours until I come all over it."
She watched his pupils dilate even more and his grip on her hips tightened as he pistoned in and out of her. She felt his fingers on her clit and knew that meant he was close, probably closer than her, and she squeezed his cock, tightened her muscles as he continued to fuck her.
"Fuck Nat, Jesus, fuck- Come on, baby, you can do it, I wanna make you come so hard-" he said, his voice strained. She threw her head back and let him fuck her, let him work her body for an untold amount of time and then she was coming, the force of her orgasm surprising her. Clint kept right on fucking her through her orgasm, well after her inner walls had stopped fluttering around him. He slapped her ass hard, his hips straining against hers, his cock as deep as he could get as he groaned her name and came inside her with jerky movements. He collapsed down on top of her, still moving inside of her shallowly.
He pillowed his head on her breasts as they caught their breaths, and she curled her fingers in his hair to hold him close. His mouth found hers and he breathed harshly against her lips, kissing her again. Her tongue slid against his and he brushed a lock of hair off her face as they kissed, dirty and messy and exactly the way they should after how hot their sex had just been.
Clint pulled away first, levering himself off of Natasha with a groan. She whimpered as he pullled out of her, his cock wet and limp. Their combined fluids started to drip from her onto the table and she felt wanton and sexy and satisfied. She stretched her arms over her head and wiggled a little, trying to find a comfortable position on the hard wood.
"Come on," Clint said, lifting her easily and setting her on her feet. He reached behind her to undo her bra, finally releasing her breasts. He pulled her against him, groping her bare ass as she pushed his jeans off his hips and made him step out of them.
She expected him to pull her in the direction of the shower but instead he maneuvered her back to the kitchen. She crossed her arms. "What?" he said with a boyish smirk, "we still have to put away the groceries."
"Here. Let me." Natasha grabbed the entire bag and headed for the fridge. She opened the door, put the whole thing onto the shelf, and shut it again, turning back to him completely naked and ready for round two. "Done."
Clint dangled the take out bag. Natasha crooked her finger at him, turning before he could take a step but knowing he was following her.
They ate the lasagna, cold, in bed, much later. | 77e4d0278187435696c408b81e758e4d | ['7099e2d644144627a7df1dd202c44e11'] | He laughed out loud at the groan she let out at his words, but she didn't exactly deny it either, and his grin could only be described as knowing. She took a few steps back and admired him, the way he stood surveying his kitchen. He fit perfectly, she decided, the final piece the house had been missing the entire time she'd occupied it. She cocked her head. The only thing still askew was that they both still had clothes on.
He seemed to be thinking the same thing because he stalked towards her suddenly. She moved in step with him as he backed her against the counter and let him boost her up next to the bags she'd just set down. She drew him in to the space between her thighs, fingertips gliding over his broad shoulders before lacing loosely behind his neck. He leaned in, tongue darting out to lick her lips, and she couldn't help herself, she squirmed against him.
"Are you hungry?" he asked, lips brushing hers.
"Not yet," she replied, then shoved her tongue in his mouth to demonstrate a more appealing idea to eating. Clint's hand was worming its way down her front and up under her skirt, barely ghosting the lace of her panties before pulling out again. "Does that mess with your plan?"
Clint pulled back to smile at her, slowly popping the buttons of her shirt until it was hanging from her, her ample cleavage right in front of his face. He made an appreciative noise at her choice of underwear, nude satin and black lace. The balconet bra gave her more lift than usual, breasts swelling up above the fabric, the crest of one nipple peeking out. Clint looked as though his mouth was about to start watering.
"You're fucking hot, Nat," he said, tracing his pointer finger down into the tight space between her breasts. His mouth followed immediately after, fingers reaching into the cup of her bra and worrying her nipple as he nipped and tongued her cleavage. He seemed determined to burrow in as deep as he could get. Natasha arched her back, pushing her chest more directly into his face to aid in his task.
"Mm," she said, fingers curling into the short hairs at the base of his skull. "You should probably take that off."
He didn't even bother lifting his head. "Take what off?"
"All of it."
His grin was predatory as he straightened up and removed his hand from her bra. "I thought you'd never ask."
And then he leaned over her to the bags she sat next to and reached in, pulling out a carton of eggs.
"But I have to put away the groceries first," he said with a wicked smile. He planted a kiss on her lips and then broke out of the circle her legs created around his hips. She could have easily kept him right where he was but he was in a playful mood and she was curious about exactly where he was going with this. Surely the food wouldn't spoil in the time it would take for them to have sex on the counter. Twice.
"Your priorities are off," Natasha said. Clint had deposited the eggs in the fridge and stepped back between her legs. He leaned in to her, kissing her again, and she wrapped her arms around him and held him in place. She could at least make it harder for him.
Clint's next move turned out to be removing her skirt, sliding it down her thighs to reveal matching panties and a garter belt. He tossed it to the side and bent down, nipping at her underwear. Natasha leaned back and spread her legs, hooking one over his shoulder and using her knee to pull his head closer to her center. "Clint," she said, partly out of pleasure and partly in warning, as he licked at the fabric over her clit once and then tried to stand. This time, her thighs tightened around his neck in warning. "Where do you think you're going?"
He wrenched away from her and stood again. His hips thrust against her once, denim rubbing harshly against lace. "I told you. Groceries," Clint replied, reaching into the bag and removing the bacon. Natasha peered into the bag as he headed back to the fridge.
"You have more groceries than I have clothing," she remarked. Clint joined her again at the counter, looking into the grocery bag with her.
"Look at that," he said. She hooked her legs around him again and this time she wasn't going to let him go. Her stocking-clad foot made its way to the front of his jeans, rubbing the hard bulge she found there. His hands found her underwear and she gracefully raised her hips to aid in their removal. She propped her foot on the counter, baring herself to him. His gaze shifted down. "Look at that."
Natasha smirked at him. "Take a closer look," she encouraged.
"I better. It's been a while, I need to make sure I remember where everything is," Clint said with a smile, and then he was eye level with her sex. She was smooth and bare and glistening with arousal, and Clint didn't waste anymore time. His tongue touched her and she moaned, clutching his head to hold him in place. |
83e9e3c73ad746ba85ad4fb2ecd3d2ad | ['70dc60e7c8d04d2e8877b6dfe0ebef0a'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> I saw julieliliac’s gorgeous vampire x vampire hunter AU gifs on tumblr and this little fic wrote itself. Hope you enjoy ;)
>
> Come be friends on LINK
Charlie rushed into Peter’s apartment, the laptop in his hands and ready to make his case.
“Look, I really don’t think we should ignore this. It might not be vampires but-“
He slid to a stop on the black marble floor, gaping.
Peter had company.
And, from the way every hair on Charlie’s arms immediately stood to attention, it was not the friendly kind.
A pale skinned man with long dark hair and a very well cut suit was standing in the apartment. And he had Peter Vincent pinned against the window, the cityscape at night bright and twinkling behind them. The vampire hunter’s wrists were caught firmly in pale hands and held against the glass.
Charlie had a stake in his hand in a moment. Peter caught sight of him standing there and swore.
“Fuck, Charlie,” Peter shouted, struggling against his captor, “You bloody bastard. There is no way you didn’t hear him coming.”
Charlie knew what Peter sounded like when facing a vampire. It was a shakey, squeaking bluster with a heavy side dish of drunken slurring. Less so now than it had been before Jerry, but still. The guy had plenty of lingering issues and very few tools to actually deal with them. So. Alcohol. And while the ubiquitous slur was definitely there now, the rest of it was... kinda not afraid at all.
Charlie frowned as the vampire turned his head to take in Charlie.
“Ah! Young Charles. So good to finally meet you,” he said, stepping away from the window excitedly. He held onto Peter with one hand and dragged him along behind him as he approached Charlie.
Charlie had been hunting vampires for a while now and had developed a few instincts.
“Let him go, you monster!” Charlie said, raising his stake and reaching into his coat for his holy water.
The vampire’s eyes followed all of this but the smile didn’t falter.
“Yeah, go ahead and give it a shot,” Peter said, attempting to pull his hand free and failing miserably, “If you can manage to kill him I’ll help you hunt all the vampires on the west coast.”
The vampire turned to look back at Peter and tsked, “Now, dear, let’s not confuse the boy. You hardly sound affectionate.”
“Affectionate?! That’s good because I was going for murderous. Does it count as murder if you’re older than Cain?”
The vampire grinned and pressed a hand to his pale cheek as if he were blushing, which he wasn’t, “Oh, you silly thing. We’ve talked about this. I wasn’t even around when the pyramids were built.”
“And I believe a single thing that comes out of your mouth,” Peter sneered, straining to reach the knife sitting on the end table behind him. It was just out of reach of his long limbs.
“Mm,” The vampire said, turning back to Charlie with a blissful expression, “Sarcasm. I don’t hear much of that where I come from.”
Charlie glanced between the vampire and the struggling Peter.
“Don’t worry, darling,” the vampire cooed at Charlie, “We have a safeword.”
“Oh, weeping Christ, I fucking hate you,” Peter despaired.
The vampire managed to look very smug as he blinked his red eyes innocently, “And that isn’t it.”
Charlie, so very confused, shakes his head a little bit, “Who are you?”
“Who the fuck cares who he is! He’s a bloody vampire! Plant that stake in his heart and get it over with,” Peter said, trying for the knife with one of his feet, his boot tip tapping a chaotic rhythm against the table top as he struggled.
“My apologies, Charles,” the vampire said calmly, taking a step forward, free hand outstretched. He dragged a hapless Peter along with him like a particularly feisty balloon. Peter swore viciously as he lurched far out of reach of the table.
Suddenly Charlie’s hand was captured in a stone cold grip, stake and all, those hauntingly unsettling red eyes staring directly into his soul. The vampire’s smile hung on his face like a petrified corpse. Charlie’s skin was so covered in goosebumps it hurt. And his heart was pounding loudly in his ears. He was too close. Way too close. But he couldn’t move away. Was having some trouble wanting to.
“Well aren’t you a charming little thing,” the vampire finally said, “My name is Aro.”
“Oi! You get your clammy hands off him,” Peter said, swinging around to slap at the vampire’s hand. Repeatedly.
Aro’s unblinking gaze slid around and locked firmly onto Peter for a long moment, completely ignoring Peter’s assault. Though even Charlie felt dumb calling it that. It looked more like a mother trying to get a child to drop a bug it’d caught.
But a human had just struck at a vampire, and Charlie was sure this was where things would turn into a bloodbath.
But it didn’t happen. The icy grip of the vampire tightened for a painful moment around Charlie’s wrist, the bones grinding together. And then they eased their grip and slipped away, releasing him.
Charlie clutched the stake to his chest and took a large step back.
“Great. You’ve introduced yourself,” Peter snapped, “We are all so fucking regretful that you ever survived past childhood. Now get out of my house!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Aro scoffed, “I’ve only just arrived!”
Then the vampire beamed again and spun around, dragging Peter over to the bar, “Why don’t you show me whatever that abhorrent liqueur is you have on your breath. It tastes a bit of absinthe. So very mood!”
“No, stop it,” Peter snapped, “That’s abusing the slang and you know it.”
The vampire was riffling delicately through the bottles with his free hand, “Now how could I possibly know that. I’m very old, you know.” | d32ee67305e144c99b5ae496d88f9b03 | ['70dc60e7c8d04d2e8877b6dfe0ebef0a'] | “That is perhaps very true. But what he wants is a large factor in this.”
“Its… yes that is true. But he doesn’t want to leave us. Does he?”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hey there! Hope your day went well. Hang in there.
3. Chapter 3
Alucard takes the empty vials of medicine from the bedside table, replacing them with three more. The woman is lying on the bed, her son stirring her porridge to cool it before feeding it to her. Hers had been a difficult pregnancy. One he suspected was complicated by the not entirely human nature of the mother. She seemed relatively human on the surface. But he knew monster blood when he smelled it. And with her almost constant spotting, he’d smelled it plenty. He thought perhaps something of the woodlands judging from the health of the fields outside the village.
After he has iterated the instructions for the medicine to her, the son watching carefully, Alucard says his goodbyes for the day and leaves the house. The sun is starting to throw long shadows and creep towards the horizon though the day is still bright enough to not worry overmuch about the coming dark. The villagers are still out and about, their children playing in the streets, chattering and screeching as children do. Alucard finds his eyes following them, a hollowed out feeling behind his eyes that he doesn’t quite understand. Perhaps he is just tired. Perhaps he is hearing the echoes of the children who died to the hordes of the night.
Weeks of practice and long night talks with Sypha have him pulling his thoughts back from that edge and beginning the long walk home.
Once he catches sight of the castle, he also sniffs a familiar scent and follows it off the path.
He finds Trevor just off the road, sitting on a fallen tree with a pile of plants by his side. Not medicinal herbs. It looks almost like the hunter has been out here picking flowers all afternoon.
And now he is sitting down, not doing much of anything. His face is turned up to the sinking sun, eyes watching the branches wave above him.
Alucard drifts into a matching stillness on the edge of the small clearing, transfixed by the rare sight of Trevor relaxed and still, body long and beautiful in the delicate play of light and shadows, bright yellow and purple blossoms blooming by his boots.
Alucard shrugs off the paralysis his admiration settled on him and steps into the edge of Trevor’s vision. The hunter sits up a bit and grunts at his approach. Nonverbal permission that Alucard has long since grown used to. He still rolls his eyes so that the brute can’t miss it as he settles down beside him.
“How are the potions coming along,” Trevor asks.
“You mean are the potions successfully reducing the symptoms of her anemia to allow her and her baby to successfully survive the pregnancy?”
“Yeah and that too,” Trevor mumbles.
Alucard huffs, “I believe she will do just fine.”
Trevor makes a noncommittal noise that Alucard knows means Trevor is relieved to hear it. Alucard glances over at his hunter and feels a swell of something sappily sentimental valiantly attempting to fight its way free. Alucard wrestles it back under his control, however, all the while wishing he did not need to.
“I feel like if you stopped insisting on ignorance, you would actually be a passable lab assistant. Gifts of monkey feet excluded of course.”
Instead of responding, Trevor reached up and touched the gold coat Alucard was wearing beneath his cloak. When Trevor had presented the coat to Alucard, he had honestly been shocked. And then he had felt like a complete idiot. Because Trevor gave the two of them gifts all of the time. He’d given Alucard his entire ancestral home, for starters.
But it wasn’t just that moment, which Sypha and himself both agreed had been a very ridiculously dramatic speech. Trevor grumbled that they were a couple of ungrateful bastards and why was he friends with them. Alucard didn’t really know why Trevor, a human that could be fairly described as a feral alcoholic, would even give Alucard and Sypha the time of day. But he did know that Trevor was far more than the drinking and the sadness.
Trevor was one of those people who just did things, thoughtful, helpful things that reminded you that they were thinking of you as they went about their day. Which was just a bastard move when he was usually pissing you off at the same time.
So, upon receiving the gift of the coat, that was apparently made of a special silk that would resist fire and stop arrows, Alucard wore it almost constantly. And had caught Trevor following it with his eyes when he thought Alucard wouldn’t see. And those eyes had filled Alucard with a warmth he wanted to wrap around himself like the coat.
Like now, as Trevor ran his coarse, talented fingers down the lapel of the ridiculously beautiful coat. Alucard glanced up that Trevor and suddenly wanted to eat him alive. Not in the entirely literal way he knew in his heart he was capable of doing, no matter how good he tried to be.
But in the hot, slick, delicious way they had all shared that night. Hell, had it only been two weeks ago?
Trevor’s rumbling voice pulled Alucard only partially out of the trance the memory had sunk him into.
“You enjoy my gifts, admit it.”
Alucard’s breath caught and his belly began to burn, a trained response to that rich, heavy, gravelly voice. God, Trevor had tasted so good. It is physically painful to not reach out and pull Trevor into a kiss.
But the painful slap of Trevor pulling away in the lab before sitsnear the edge of his thoughts, like a pail of water propped above a door. |
071f005b542a4cb4a8d556f821ac16aa | ['70fe2f8f68dc424c9d4b005b42b418a2'] | Atropos is still staring at him, a challenge in her gaze, while her sisters keep their eyes firmly on the ground. A leashed hound is still a hound, Hades thinks, and though she may be loyal to him, it’s a loyalty bought only by the fact that he’s stronger. Any mistake he makes, and there’s no doubt in his mind that the moment he loses control — Well. Best not to think about that.
“When are these meetings?” He’ll put a stop to this here and now, and damn the consequences. No one will dare to question his will if they don’t have the tongues to speak at all.
Her lips curl upwards, and her dark eyes glitter. “Every seventh day. There’ll be one tonight, after the final bell rings.”
Good. That’s good. Hades waves the three of them away with a flick of his wrist and purses his lips. Though Atropos is strong, confident as ever, there’s nervousness growing int he ranks. He needs a decisive course of action, something to remove all doubt. Hopefully, with this meeting tonight, he’ll find inspiration on how to keep the waters calm.
***
It’s embarrassing, the realization that he hardly knows where the barracks are in his own domain. He’s been there before, of course, but it feels so terribly far away that the location itself is hazy. When he finds the right building, finally, he’s almost surprised at how worn, how old it looks. The shutters hang off the windows, and the paint is chipping, but surely that doesn’t really matter. It’s not as if there’s any wind to keep out, or anyone to impress.
Inside, faintly, he can hear voices, and that’s almost alarming. When was the last time he’d heard any of them speaking? Hades approaches the door and pushes it open a crack, just to peer inside, to get the measure of things.
Eurydice is at the front of their eating area, newly converted into something like a meeting room. The tables have all been pushed to the side, and the chairs are all in a semicircle in front of her. She’s sitting on one of the tables, speaking to them quietly, hands gesturing every few sentences to illustrate a point. It’s nothing like the way he speaks to them, standing above them, using the microphone to send his voice ricocheting off the stone walls. And the way they look at her — hopeful and earnest — like they’re people.
Hades pushes the door open and strides into the room, and almost relishes the way everything goes still and silent. Hades just waits for someone to make the first move. As much as he’d prefer to crush this mutiny beneath his heel and have done with it, there’s the issue of his wife. He’s keenly aware of the precariousness of their position, of just how easily he could lose her favor all over again. He needs a reason, one that even she can’t argue with. If only he could catch them in the middle of planning a riot, or something equally unforgivable.
One of them, a tall bearded man with an imposing frame, rises, but Eurydice shakes her head and extends a hand to him. “Hector. Sit down.” Her voice is gentle, but he sits anyway, staring at Hades with an unreadable expression in his eyes.
Eurydice turns to him. She’s still sitting, and looks for all the world completely relaxed, but there’s a tension in her shoulders that he can’t ignore. “Hades,” she says, watching him. “There’s plenty of chairs, if you’d like to sit.”
There’s another silence, this one more pointed, and Hades has two thoughts in quick succession: _What the hell?_ followed by _Oh, that’s clever._ He’d waited a moment too long to act, and now he’s caught in a game he doesn’t understand the rules of. Opening with hospitality he hasn’t earned is a clever way of making sure that unless he plays her game, he’ll only look like a tyrant. The appearance of fairness is more important than fairness itself, and he hadn’t expected her to read him that well.
Hades sits down in the first chair he sees, between the tall man and a woman with springy hair, holding tightly to the hand of the man beside her. She gives Hades a suspicious look, and turns back to Eurydice.
“I don’t think he should be here,” she says, voice harsh and unyielding. “He’s the enemy, isn’t he?”
Eurydice leans forward to face her. “And how do we make our demands if he can’t hear them?” she asks. “He can’t do anything to us here, Chrysanthe. I promise you.”
It’s a vain promise. Surely she knows she can’t keep it. But the woman, Chrysanthe, sits back, apparently mollified, and gives him one last look before reaching back to squeeze the shoulder of the woman sitting behind her.
Their names. How did they get them back? It’s been an eternity since he’s heard any of them call each other by name, or sound like people, but somehow, in the short time she’s been here, Eurydice’s managed to bring them back into their own bodies with startling force.
Somehow, through the silence, Hades realizes that they’re all still looking at him. He makes a vague gesture, and leans back in his chair. “Well? Don’t stop on my account.”
The meeting continues, and Hades just sits back, trying to take it all in. He’s not sure what he’d been expecting. Petty, stupid, complaints, perhaps. A foolish desire to break their contracts and leave. That would have been easier to handle, he thinks. He could have said no, could have made an example of them and been done with things. Instead, what he’s hearing is a plea for fair treatment and human empathy. | 50406a091171488a8603d8607d27eaf8 | ['70fe2f8f68dc424c9d4b005b42b418a2'] | She clenches her hands at her sides. Like this, she looks like an avenging angel, like the ones his mother showed him in her bible, telling the shepherds where to find the infant Messiah. For the first time, Dolokhov understands why the angel told them not to fear. She's terrifying, trembling with righteous anger.
"You were normal. I wasn't." She grits her teeth. "I thought there was something wrong with me. But there wasn't. It was you. It was always you." Sonya picks up the discarded packet of letters and thrusts them at him. "I just don't think you're meant to be happy. I'm sorry."
Dolokhov takes the letters, wide-eyed, and she rushes out, the front door banging shut behind her. So that's the end of it. They don't have to have anything more to do with one another. He stands and makes for his guest room, not wanting to run into Helene again, not now, when his thoughts are swirling like this.
He lights a fire in the grate and sits by it, reading over the letters one more time, the yellowed, worn paper crackling in his fingers. How many times has Sonya read over these? They're promises of a future that will never be, not now. Perhaps she cared for him more than she thought, but it doesn't matter now.
He knows Sonya well enough to know she doesn't mean what she says, that he doesn't deserve to be happy. Not possible. She wouldn't wish that on anybody. But that doesn't mean she isn't right. He's no good man, no matter what anyone says, and losing his knack is only the end of a long line in his string of offenses. Maybe it's his punishment.
Very well, then. Dolokhov stands, bundling the letters together in his hands. Sonya is a future that will never come. If this is how he's meant to be - miserable and alone - if this is what he deserves, then who is he to fight fate?
Hands trembling, he tosses the letters into the grate and watches them catch fire, twisting in on themselves, until they're consumed to dull ash.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> we back bitches
6. Chapter 6
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> this week, on "Fedya Dolokhov Ruins All His Interpersonal Relationships"
He's woken the next morning by a loud, persistent knocking on the door to his room. Dolokhov rolls over onto his stomach and mutters something vicious into the pillow, then opens one eye blearily. His head is pounding from the last of the vodka, drunk last night, and he's in no mood for this.
"What?" It's far too early for this, and if it's Helene come to gloat, or worse, force him to go out somewhere with her, he might just have to kill her. No one answers, but the knocking continues. For a brief moment, he considers rolling over and trying to go back to sleep. But the pounding has settled firmly behind his left eye, and he's not sure it would even be worth it, at this point. So Dolokhov stumbles out of bed, one hand pressed to his forehead, and pulls the door open sharply.
Anatole is there, one hand raised, and very nearly hits him in the forehead before he realizes what's happened. He yanks his hand away and folds them both neatly behind his back, swallowing hard. Dolokhov is far too annoyed to care about the faint look of terror in his eyes.
Dolokhov gestures helplessly, indicating the grandfather clock standing in the hallway, its hands pointing to an unspeakable hour, then the window, where the dim morning light is just starting to stream in. "Why?" he asks.
Anatole holds up his other hand, a sheet of parchment dangling idly from it, and flashes a grin, slightly strained. “I need your help, mon cher.”
He stares. Anatole needs his help. Whatever madcap scheme he’s about to be dragged into, it’s got to be better than laying around here, miserable.
"What do you want?"
At least he has the good grace to pretend to look sheepish. Anatole flicks his wrist, making the sheet of paper wiggle between his fingers. "I'm trying to write a letter to Countess Rostova."
Dolokhov tries to restrain his laughter in response. Anatole's letters (infrequent as they were, before they dropped off entirely) were scribbled, haphazard things, the sentences trailing off into abandonment before they'd gotten halfway to the point. He can't imagine receiving a love letter from him that would encourage a continuation of the affair.
"Yes, well, you needn't look so happy about it," Anatole snaps. He sighs, and his expression shifts, wheedling and plaintive. "Fedya, mon cher, I don't suppose I could impose on you to help me write it?"
He's half tempted to close the door in his face and go back to bed. Being reminded of Anatole's latest fling is bad enough, but to be pulled into it? He can't imagine anything he'd enjoy less. Anatole has to know it'll end badly. Or perhaps he's just that oblivious. Yes, of course he is. When was the last time Anatole didn't get out of trouble unscathed?
This time, he might not be so lucky. Dolokhov knows the Rostovs, more than him, anyway. If word gets out - and it will, Anatole isn't nearly clever enough to conceal his intentions or the marriage that stands in his way - there'll be hell to pay. Someone has to keep Anatole from losing limbs.
"Fine," he sighs, and tries to ignore the stuttering of his heart at the way Anatole's face lights up. For all that he tries to be cool and collected, he's not much more than a giddy boy at his core, with exactly the same understanding of the world as a child. And besides, he'll send love letters whether Fedya helps him or not. This is just one way he can perhaps be useful. |
30786dba338046d694b476855ed7f3ee | ['7116e43d44a44379acf6a7b0e8450fe4'] | Wonho looks at him and smiles weakly, “I’m okay,” he whispers before voicing out to the team, “We need to go to Thailand and see Hyunwoo’s friend, Jaebum.”
Everyone is all ears.
Shownu nods fervently, “His team can help us track down our enemies’ headquarters.”
“For the mean time, let’s lie low. Make sure we are not being followed,” Wonho instructs the team.
“You also need to rest,” Kihyun points out, “Hyungwon told me the doctor ordered you bed rest for the first week at least.”
“How are you feeling now?” Shownu asks full of concern.
Hyungwon avoids Wonho’s glare, “Kihyun’s our team’s medic, I had to tell him,” he defends himself.
“Don’t worry about me. We just need to book a hotel near the Asiatique, it’s where we’ll find Jaebum’s mate,” Wonho tries to change the subject.
Shownu cups his face, “Tell me what you really need?”
“Business class seats and,” Hoseok tries to lighten up the mood, “and probably mangoes?”
“Okay,” Shownu captures his lips, “but you really need to rest once we get there just as the doctor ordered.”
Hyungwon was asleep the minute they sat on the plane. He’s occupying two seats to get himself comfortable. Their maknae is quite spoiled when it comes to his precious sleep.
Minhyuk immediately orders a couple of beers to relieve some stress. He can’t believe he just destroyed Sally. He’s going to make Kihyun’s friend, whoever he is, pay for this.
While Minhyuk was playing scenarios on his mind on ways to kill the team that bombed their house, he is distracted by a kid, probably 15, who keeps on staring at the sleeping Hyungwon.
“Fuck off,” Minhyuk warns him.
The boy, being embarrassed, hesitantly looks away.
“Yah, I know you’re mad about us getting kicked out of our house, but what happened to lying low? Stop picking fights,” Kihyun scolds the beta.
“Here,” Minhyuk pushes his bottle of beer to Kihyun, “peace-offering.”
“I don’t want to fight with you either, especially when Hoseokkie’s not well.”
“Finally, we both agree to something,” Minhyuk scoffs.
Shownu ordered seaweed soup for Wonho. He’s heard from somewhere that it’s good for pregnant mothers.
Wonho finds this sweet. As he takes his first taste of his soup, he starts tearing up. The feeling of having something good after a very shitty day just made him emotional yet again.
“Hyunwoo, I’m sorry for being this way,” Hoseok says sniffing.
“Hey—you don’t have to apologize for anything, everyone’s tired, it’s okay.” Shownu wipes the other’s tears gently.
“H—how do we care for a baby when we’re on the run? And to top this all off, it’s basically my fault. I should have been their with the team to finish the job—
“That’s enough. You are being too hard on yourself. Everyone’s alright. Our baby’s alright. That’s what’s most important. Leave all the other useless things to us.”
“I was so happy when I found out I’m having your baby; but now I feel that maybe this is fate telling me I shouldn’t have one,” Wonho holds his chest in grief.
Shownu moves all the food away as he gently holds Wonho to calm him down, “Fate is telling us that we should raise our baby outside Korea, that’s all.”
Wonho chuckles at this, “How are you so good at making me laugh?”
Shownu takes this opportunity to feed his mate to give him strength. He gives him a spoonful of the soup, “You have to eat.”
“Just a bit. I’m really tired,” Wonho admits.
“A bit is good,” Shownu encourages.
Wonho smiles feeling so grateful to have a caring boyfriend and he feels even happier that he is probably going to have a mini version of him in a couple of months.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thanks for reading! <3
5. The Reunion
Sleeping for almost 5 hours in the plane did the team good. They felt so energised that even the emotionally-tired omega wanted to eat buffet in their hotel.
Their hotel served the best finest seasonal ingredients from lobsters to golden trouts, ducks, wild mushrooms and the freshest tropical dessert sorbets.
Shownu is obviously enjoying the large meat selection from roast pigs and heavenly baked beef. While, Wonho is realizing how he can only eat sweet things since he is now very sensitive to the smell of both raw and cooked meat.
Kihyun eats everything except seafood. He’s stuffing on some Thai noodles and chicken curry. While the picky Hyungwon, has only been focused on his spicy shrimp soup.
Minhyuk on the other hand was able to sample all of his teammates dishes. He was already on his third plate when he noticed that across their table, among the group of rowdy teenagers, mostly Americans, there is this same kid that’s been staring at Hyungwon on the plane. The kid was doing it again.
“Hyungwon ah, I think you’ve got yourself an admirer,” Minhyuk signals to the boy’s direction.
Hyungwon almost spits his food surprised at the person he just made eye contact with. His team was even more surprised when the boy finally walks to their table with a very angry expression.
“Hyung! It’s you! Isn’t it?! Everyone said you were dead!” The boy cries out.
Hyungwon tries to open his mouth but is loss for words.
“How can you make us believe you were dead! We even made a funeral for you! You left your family to do what exactly?!”
“Changkyun-ah, I’m sorry—-
Changkyun punches his big brother straight to the face, “You have no right to say that!”
“Hold on—young man,” Minhyuk pulls the kid away to stop him from hurting their maknae.
“Let’s just order room service from now on,” Kihyun says nervously as people start to gossiping around them.
“Hyungwon, is this really your brother?” Wonho helps put ice on his bruised face.
“He is,” Hyungwon looks at everyone but at Changkyun. | bb4b01c6f0eb486395a3141248628917 | ['7116e43d44a44379acf6a7b0e8450fe4'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> I tried to proofread this fic as much as I can. I hope you enjoy reading this! ❤
When the government abandoned a special group of men, Team X, in a mission to North Korea in exchange for a faux peace agreement, these 5 men escaped and returned to the their home country without the government’s knowledge. These days, they use their exceptional skills as hired assassins for assignments worth a king’s ransom. As they no longer exist in official records, they have managed to hide their true identities from most people.
Hyunwoo, aka Shownu, is the alpha leader of the team. He’s not only an expert with government intelligence and the best skilled fighter in the whole of South Korea, but he’s also a very good economist. He is responsible for Team X’s extravagant living conditions with the stocks he sold that were never traced to his name. Hyunwoo is quiet and hard to read except probably for Hoseok.
Hoseok, aka Wonho, is an omega whose actually the second best close-combat fighter in the team. He is also the expert in long range shooting and the team’s strategist. Wonho made sure that Team X’s current headquarters is located inside a ridiculously high-end subdivision, where they disguise themselves a spoiled rich bastards of the most affluent families. Hoseok is very emotional and is Hyunwoo’s mate.
Minhyuk is the team’s hacker and is very obsessed with keeping their home safe with his baby which he named Sally, an attack-resistant security home system that has enhanced their walls, doors, and windows, making them highly resistant to any outside attacks. Minhyuk is a loud-mouthed beta who loves to bicker with his brother from another mother, Kihyun.
Kihyun is an expert in poisons and the team’s medic. He is also an alpha, which is often forgotten, given his small stature and cute lisp. But he is definitely scary when he uses his manipulation and interrogation skills to get information from his enemy. Kihyun loves to cook and is not so secretly dating an A-class celebrity, Kim Hyuna.
Hyungwon, is the bomb expert and is quite an introvert. The maknae is a beta and Team X’s secret weapon, well mostly because they are quite not sure of his special skill yet, that is, he can see visions of the the future. These days, when he is not sleeping, he is trying to finish a painting of a wedding by the beach, where he has a very bad feeling about.
2. The Mission
On the 17th day of June, just before Shownu’s birthday, Team X had a special assignment to assassinate the heir of a large electronics conglomerate by a foreign competitor who’s been trying to enter the market.
Their foreign employer knows that they are a team of professionals. There were no details given as to how the assignment should be done except for the strict deadline which was to do it in two days.
The team wanted to make a statement, something that will let a whole new list of clientele know that they exist. They opted for a flashy shoot-to-kill operation in a famous restaurant with Wonho taking the lead on the case.
It was unfortunate that the night before the big day, Wonho wakes up with a dull pain in his stomach, a usual indication that he’s going to go on heat in the next few hours.
“Shit!” Wonho rubs his lower abdomen, trying to massage it to no avail. He is pissed he would probably be unable to participate in the team’s upcoming mission. Shownu is sleeping beside him, his soft snores echo through the room.
Wonho silently reaches for the bathroom to get some painkillers.
While frantically rummaging through the medicine cabinet, he feels warm hands snake around his torso. He was startled for a second but his boyfriend’s scent is just so calming. He thinks that backhugs with his alpha mate are definitely the best.
“Why didn’t you wake me? You know I can help. What’s wrong, Hoseokkie?,” Shownu sleepily convinces Wonho.
Wonho guides Shownu’s warm hands to his stomach. “Here. It hurts. Like the usual.”
Shownu forces himself to be more awake, “Hoseok, are you on heat?” He looks at the other through the bathroom mirror and sees the other wince in pain nodding.
The alpha panics and almost immediately carries his mate back to their shared bed.
“Wait, I haven’t taken my meds,” Wonho whines.
Shownu gently lays him down their mattress, “Don’t move, I’ll call Kihyun.”
“Hyunwoo ah, I don’t need Kihyun. I’m gonna be fine. Just the meds will do. Besides you guys need some time to sleep before the big kill tomorrow which sucks for I won’t be able to join you.”
By the end of his sentence, Wonho has started crying. He blames it on his hormones. The omega has also been anticipating the pain and exhaustion he’ll be experiencing soon after.
Shownu understood that his boyfriend has always struggled through his heat cycles but it always breaks his heart to see him in pain.
“Ssssh, it’s okay. Everything will be fine,” Shownu kneels next to his boyfriend to wipe his tears. He kisses his forehead tenderly, then whispers, “Kihyun already told you you shouldn’t be taking meds when you’re on heat since they have side effects. I’ll make you something to eat instead, okay?”
“You’re cooking?” the omega still manages to tease him.
“Just ramen. I’m sure I can make that,” Shownu says while caressing his lover’s now pale cheek. His heart hurts more now thinking he has to leave his mate like this for the assignment.
“How about I cancel the mission? Honestly, we don’t need any more money.”
“Hey, we can’t afford enemies from a foreign land besides we need that pay check for our trip to Greece. I’ve been planning for that for a year,” Wonho reprimands him.
“You really don’t look well, Hoseokkie,” Shownu sighs deeply. |
3480e2b0fcde46499e2edc84ed4c10e3 | ['717067ab27674e6db0a0839c724d49e0'] | Hoss rose and leaned over him, touching his arm. “Sssh, Joe. Adam’s here. Try and rest, buddy.”
The soothing didn’t work. Joe jerked away from Hoss’s touch, his face creasing and his voice rising in panic.
“Adam! Adam!”
I threw back the blankets. Hoss shook his head at me. “Adam, you stay in that bed.”
But I was already up and hobbling across the room. “It’s all right,” I assured Hoss, as he rose with an anxious face, to steady me. “Let me talk to him.”
I sat down on the edge of Joe’s bed. He was lunging restlessly beneath the quilt, the calling of my name punctuated by cries of pain caused by his own tossing and turning. I held him by the shoulders to prevent him hurting himself more, but he fought me, still trapped in the dark bubble of his nightmare.
“Joe!” I said, and then again, more sharply, “Joe!”
His eyes, still sunk too way too deep in their sockets, sprang open. He stared at me blankly then, gradually, comprehension dawned on his face.
“Adam?” he said, his voice far from certain.
I nodded.
He stared in silence for another long moment, confusion in his eyes. His voice cracked. “I thought you were dead.”
I gave a little laugh. “I thought you were dead.”
“I went to get help. I….” He closed his eyes and a tremor of pain wrinkled his face. “I must have gone the wrong way. I…I fell.”
“That’d be about right,” said Hoss, beside me. “You done fell down a gully and broke your foot.”
Joe opened his eyes again and gave a small nod. “Yeah. I remember.”
“Joe,” I said, “Do you remember what happened in the cabin? Before you went for help?”
He stared at me, saying nothing.
“Do you remember the fire?” I asked him.
Still he didn’t speak, but I could see he did. Eventually, his voice barely more than a whisper, he said, “Yes. We were locked in the back.”
My heart jumped. “That’s right. How did you get the door open?”
“I couldn’t. I couldn’t open it.” His eyes clouded, sank deeper still. “Charlie….” He frowned. “Charlie let us out.”
“Charlie?” I opened my own eyes wide. “Charlie came back?” All at once, the puzzle began to make sense. Something cold clutched at my belly.
“I couldn’t wake you.” Joe’s voice was hoarse. “The cabin was on fire. We couldn’t see the way. Couldn’t breathe. The roof was falling in around us. It fell on you and…and Charlie.”
His voice caught. He closed his eyes, his face contorting. I waited until he was able to continue, sensing his body trembling beneath the covers.
“I dragged you outside, but Charlie…I don’t know what happened. I couldn’t see him anymore. I tried to go back. I tried to help him. But the fire…it was too hot. It was just too hot….”
His voice rose and broke again. I rubbed his arm in an attempt to offer some small comfort, struggling to take in what he’d told me. I could still remember nothing of our escape. “It’s all right, Joe, you did your best. You did your best.”
I looked up at Hoss, standing beside me. Horror filled his eyes, like pain. “Dagnabbit!” he muttered. “So it was Charlie the sheriff found.”
“I’m sorry,” whispered Joe. “So sorry!”
“Listen,” I told him, leaning close to his face so he’d hear me through his grief, “you have nothing to be sorry about, you hear me? You did everything you could.”
“I told Charlie about the money in the first place. If it hadn’t been for me….”
“No,” I told him firmly, “that’s enough. We all make mistakes. I took the three of them on in the first place, so it was as much my fault as yours. But it doesn’t work like that.”
“I should have kept my mouth shut. None of this would have happened.”
“Yes, and if wishes were horses...”
He sank back against the pillows when I said that, and turned his face away from me, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Don’t you go blaming yourself for what happened to Charlie,” I told him, sounding, even to my own ears, like Pa. “What the Deverells did, that was down to them. You’re not responsible for the way they behaved. We all mess up sometimes and we all have to decide how to make things right again. That’s the true measure of a man, Joe: not how many mistakes he makes but how he deals with them.”
“Charlie came back,” he whispered. “He tried to make it right. And now he’s dead.” His voice cracked on a dry sob.
I could think of nothing else to say to ease his grief. Nothing would ever make sense of the horror and the waste of what had happened. Hoss put his hand on my shoulder and I was grateful for the gentle pressure of his touch. I clasped Joe’s arm and hoped he’d find the same comfort from a brother’s touch.
11
Strange how good things so often come out of something bad. That’s how it was for Joe and me, after what happened on that trip to Placerville. Our relationship changed. I stopped dismissing him as a child. I hadn’t even been aware I was doing that, but watching him during that trip to Placerville, I saw him as the man he was soon to be, a man of courage and determination, someone I could rely on when times got tough. Those nightmare days made me reassess my own priorities. I realized how distant I had grown from the things that should have mattered most to me. It’s too easy sometimes to focus on a distant dream and, in the process, miss what’s right under your very nose. | ca45b17007c4442584b5c3f324dad564 | ['717067ab27674e6db0a0839c724d49e0'] | “Sheriff caught me in town ’safternoon. Seems like Joe an’ Charlie done started a fight there yesterday with some of the mining boys.”
“Started it? Why?”
“Roy said he didn’ rightly know. Couldn’ get to the bottom of why. He tol’ me ’cause he was worried ’bout Little Joe. Said when he broke up the fight, Joe was real sassy to him.”
I shrugged my shoulders as I shut the pencil box in the drawer. “So, they’re boys. They fight. I’m pretty sure Roy knows how to deal with that.”
“Yeah, but he ain’t just loud mouthin’ the sheriff. He’s doin’ it to me an’ Pa too. You tellin’ me you ain’t noticed?”
I frowned, reluctant to admit I hadn’t paid any attention to Joe for a good couple of weeks. “He’s fifteen,” I said, as though that explained everything. “Charlie’s older than he is, taller, bigger. More worldly-wise. Guess it’s natural for Joe to want to be like him.”
“Yeah. Worldly-wise is right!” said Hoss with so much feeling, I finally gave him my full attention.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s the other thing that’s worryin’ me, Adam. ’Bout Little Joe an’ Charlie. The kind of things they talk about.”
I waited for him to go on, but I could see him struggling. I knew him well enough to understand his hesitation. He and Joe had always been close, and Hoss—faithful as ever— never wanted to betray his younger brother.
I’d guessed what he was about to say, but I prompted him anyway. “What kind of things?”
“’Bout women. Hoss sighed, resigning himself to his treachery. “I overheard ’em this morning. It was like they was comparin’ notes. Jokin’ an’ laughin’.” He wrinkled his nose as though he’d detected a bad smell in the room. “If Pa’d heard the kind of things they was saying, he’d’a’ skinned Joe.”
I was amused by Hoss’s apparent prissiness. “Can’t imagine Joe has a lot of notes to compare,” I said, laughing off Hoss’s concerns. “Not yet, anyway.”
“Yeah, well, I reckon most of it was jus’ flannel, but it sure didn’t sound pretty.”
“You and I were that age once, “I reminded him. “You remember what it was like.”
“’Course I do. An’ I was full of bullshit too. What kid ain’t? Thing is, Adam, this wa’n’t the regular kind of stuff. An’ it weren’t jus’ mouth neither. Leastways, not from Charlie. You can tell when a kid’s all mouth. Charlie’s done been there. He knows it all, an’ more.”
“Oh, come on Hoss, there’re plenty of boys his age know their way around a woman.”
“Yeah, I know that. ’Course I do. It ain’t Charlie I’m worried about. It’s Little Joe. Whatever Charlie does, Little Joe wants to do the same. And if you’d’a’ heard what they was talking about, Adam….” A faint flush rose in his face and he left the sentence hanging.
“You’d better tell me,” I said, more intrigued than alarmed at that stage. Hoss had always been surprisingly naïve when it came to women, chivalrous to a fault. It didn’t take much to shock his gentle nature.
Hesitantly and not without some embarrassment, he told me what he’d overheard Charlie relating to Joe. I raised my eyebrows. Finally I understood his alarm.
“Ain’t no way to treat a lady,” said Hoss, when he’d finished, “even a painted one.”
“Does Joe know you heard?”
Hoss looked faintly indignant. “Yeah, of course. I wa’n’t gonna let that kind of talk carry on. I sent Charlie on his way, an’ I told Joe I didn’ wanna hear him, nor no one else, talkin’ like that about a woman—any woman—again.”
“What did he say?”
“He tol’ me I was fussin’. Said it was jus’ talk. I told him he was lucky it was me heard ’em. If it’d been Pa, he’d’a tanned his hide.”
“Maybe that’s what he needs.”
Hoss’s face crinkled at that. “I was hoping you’d have a word with him, Adam. He listens to you.”
“He used to,” I said. “Not so sure he takes a lot of notice these days.” I saw the pleading in Hoss’s eyes, and sighed. I was tired. I’d been looking forward to going to bed with nothing more on my mind than my trip to Placerville. Trust Joe to spoil it!
“All right,” I agreed. “I think you’re worrying over nothing, but I’ll talk to him if you think it will help.”
I’d meant it when I said it, but, somehow, the opportunity to talk to Joe didn’t present itself. Maybe I didn’t try hard enough to make it happen. To be honest, the prospect of an interview with my fifteen-year-old brother on the subject of morbid sexual appetites made my heart sink. The morning after our conversation, I had an appointment at the bank, and a wire to send to Daniel, and Joe headed out with Charlie and a couple of the other men to round up strays. The day after that, I went with Pa to Carson City to finalize a lumber contract. Saturday morning, when Hoss asked me if I’d managed to have that word with Joe, I had to admit I hadn’t.
“I’ll try and catch him today,” I promised.
But, after breakfast, Clem Foster called by the ranch, to introduce his niece, Susannah McKenna, who’d arrived in town only the day before. Miss McKenna was dark-haired and very pretty. My heart picked up an extra beat or two when she held out her hand in greeting and our eyes met. All thoughts of Little Joe went straight to the back of my mind. He and Hoss were branding, over in the corral, so the enviable task of entertaining Clem and the lovely Miss McKenna fell to me, and Miss McKenna’s eyes definitely weren’t on Pa.
“Such beautiful countryside,” said Miss McKenna, smiling at me. “Uncle Clem was telling me how wonderful the lake is.” |
d1cffa44741e4350adbd2f5c905dca40 | ['717b588e250e492ea84d220507fb6656'] | He burst out laughing at the comparison, rolling his eyes at her when she waggled her eyebrows at him.
“Well, that’s a way to put it!” Alec said, earning a small giggle from the blonde.
“Okay, listen,” Lydia grabbed his hand, “We knew what we were getting into once we agreed to this arrangement. Just don’t worry too much about, we’ll figure everything along the way. Beside, this is the 21st century: we don’t need to do the _do_ to have a child.
Alec cocked an eyebrow at her.
“I don’t know if it’s the sleep-depravation, alcohol talking or if it’s just Jace’s influence,” he muttered.
Lydia giggled, burying her nose in his neck. With a small smile, Alec wrapped his arms around, rubbing her back.
“You know what we should worry about, though?” she mumbled against his neck. Alec hummed, “About what we’re going to do when we’ll arrive in Cairo,” Pulling back at his snort, she smiled and held out her pinkie, “Let’s worry about the now, one step at a time.”
“One step at a time,” Alec agreed, hooking his pinkie around hers.
He knew he wasn’t going to fall in love with Lydia, no matter how hard he tried. But as he watched the blonde lean against him, her arms wrapped his waist, Alec felt his heart soar with the love he already felt for the small, feisty blonde.
* * *
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**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thank for reading. Don't forget to leave a comment/kudos. Cheers !
3. hold to me as we go
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> “What do you mean ‘Lydia’s pregnant’?!”
>
> “Surely you know what being pregnant means.”
>
> “Wait, how did she get pregnant if you two didn’t do the nasty? That’s what I don’t get.”
>
> “There are other ways for a person to get pregnant, Jace,” Alec deadpanned, cocking an eyebrow.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hello ! Again, thank you for the amazing feedback, it means a lot. Here's the third chapter in this installment. Hope you'll like.
>
> The title of the chapter is from Phillip Phillips' song, "Home".
****
**MARCH 2006 – TWO MONTHS PREGNANT**
“What do you mean ‘ _Lydia’s pregnant’_?!”
Alec had to stop himself from covering his ears, protecting them from Isabelle’s shrieking. He couldn’t but wince, though. Noticing it, Lydia gave his hand a small squeeze. Behind his younger sister, Jace was pacing up and down the room, his arms crossed firmly against his chest and his void of any emotion. Alec didn’t know why he had thought telling them the news first would’ve been a good idea. An impatient and irritated clear of throat made him turn back to Isabelle, the latter staring at him with her hands on her hips. Alec took a calming breath.
“Surely you know what being pregnant means.”
Isabelle narrowed her eyes at him, making back in the couch, and raised a hand.
“Do not patronize me, Alec,” she hissed.
She, then, scoffed and shook her head before beginning to pace the floor. Jace stopped his marching and turned to the couple, his eyebrows frowned.
“Wait, how did she get pregnant if you two didn’t do the nasty? That’s what I don’t get.”
“There are other ways for a person to get pregnant, Jace,” Alec deadpanned, cocking an eyebrow.
“Yeah, like what? You mean to tell me Lydia is the next Virgin Mary?” Jace scoffed.
Alec rolled his eyes. Maybe he should’ve told Max first. While he would’ve been confused, the younger boy would’ve accepted any explanation Alec gave him. Beside Jace, Isabelle was still pacing, muttering things in Spanish and English. Pulling his hand away from Lydia’s, he rubbed his face.
“Ever heard of in-vitro conception, you morons?”
Isabelle stopped and turned to glare at her brother, quickly imitated by Jace. Both of them stayed quiet, though. Alec took it as his cue to keep speaking.
“Look, I know it’s weird and confusing and hard to wrap around, but we’re going to have a baby.”
Isabelle and Jace exchanged a look before relaxing a bit. The dark-haired woman sighed and went to sit next to Alec.
“Are you going to have a baby for yourselves? Or are you doing it just to make _them_ happy?
Alec turned to Lydia, earning a small nod from her. He, then, looked back at his sister and lifted a shoulder.
“Both, I guess.”
Isabelle let out a breath before giving a small nod and a small smile. Alec returned the smile before turning to Jace, the latter looked confused, sceptical. Lydia sighed, making everyone turn to her.
“Honestly, I thought you guys would’ve been happy for us.”
Alec couldn’t help but snort as Jace’ features immediately softened. He shook his head when Isabelle threw him a confused look and watched as the blonde walked toward Lydia, taking one of her hands in his.
“We _are_ , it’s just-“
“Confusing, I know,” Lydia giggled, getting to up to her feet.
Jace grinned and enveloped in a hug, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.
“Congratulations, Ms Lightwood,” he whispered, “you’re going to be an amazing mother.”
Lydia leaned back to smile at him, pecking his cheek. He pulled back and went to Alec, holding out a hand.
“As for you,” Jace slapped his hand in his before pulling him up and into a tight embrace, “I’ve got no doubt you’ll make a fantastic father.”
With a grin, Alec patted his back and watched, over the blonde’s shoulder, Isabelle get up and wrap Lydia in her arms, beaming. She, then, let go of her and walked toward the pair of brothers, pushing Jace away so she could take his place. Alec had to bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing at the blonde’s disgruntled expression. He wrapped his arms around Isabelle’s waist, hoping it would stop her jumping up and down. | 9e10816e27504bf88cefb9f178d45f58 | ['717b588e250e492ea84d220507fb6656'] | His jaw clenched, Jax bowed his head, fingers tapping against the hard case of the tablet case as he thought over the Captain’s words. Rip’s praise and belief meant more than he ever thought it would. Somewhere between getting drugged and destroying a literal time old institution, Jax had found himself seeking his older peers’ validation and acceptance. As the youngest member of the crew, he had tried to prove his worth, volunteering for tasks he hadn’t the abilities required, reading the Waverider’s handbook and familiarizing himself with every part of the ship. And somehow, he had earned the trust and affection of a former Time Master, a pair of crooks, an Egyptian goddess, a resurrected assassin and two geniueses. People with whom he had never thought he would be so close, people that he had come to admire, people that he had come to consider as family.
“Unless,” Jax looked up at Rip, the latter reaching for the device in his hands, “you’re not feeling up to the task,” he said, his tone light and taunting.
Narrowing his eyes at the other man, Jax shook his head and held the tablet out of the Captain’s grasp. If he looked closed enough, he could almost see Rip stiffen a smirk as his hands closed around thin air.
“No,” Jax muttered, still shaking his head before clearing his throat and repeating it louder, “No, I’ll do it.”
“You sure? I would completely understand if you decided to back out. It would be a shame, really, since you’ve already got a vision for it. A great one, might I add, Mr Jackson,” Rip let out a long, dramatic sigh, rubbing the back of his neck, “Maybe Dr Palmer would be more suited to the task.”
“ _No_!” Jax repeated louder, his tone forceful as he hugged the tablet to his chest, “I got it. Ray’s more of a scientist that he is a mechanic, anyway. Making his own super suit, while impressive, isn’t the same thing as designing library aboard a time ship.
Rip huffed a laugh, his hands linked behind his back.
“My exact thoughts,” he agreed with a small nod, his mouth twisted into this familiar half-smirk. His head cocked to the side, “I gather that means that you’re going to do it.”
Mirroring his smirk, Jax gave him a nod, his smirk softening into a grin at Rip’s satisfied sigh, unconsciously pushing his shoulder back in pride at the Captain’s silent endorsement. Clearing his throat, Rip clapped his hands.
“Alright, then. Like said before, we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us,” he exclaimed, pushing away some boxes to the side with his foot, quickly imitated by Jax, “We can get rid of those later, unless you want to keep them for later use,” Rip added, wiping his hands on his hands.
Noticing he was expecting an answer from him, Jax shook his head.
“ _Captain, we’re being hailed by the Acheron”,_ Gideon intervened.
It took Jax longer than he’d like to admit for him to link the unfamiliar name to the time ship they had been captured on a few weeks by time pirates. It took a few more seconds to remember the Captain they had been locked with. Still, he was still confused as to why and - how - she was hailing the Waverider. Much to his relief so was Rip.
“What- _how_ can Baxter be able to hail us? The ship’s docked,” the Captain protested, frowning at the ceiling.
“ _Seeing as you’re the last Time Master Captain Baxter has come in contact with before the destruction of the Vanishing Point, I suppose she tracked the Waverider to 2016,”_ Gideon retorted, her tone slightly exasperated. Jax could practically hear the _‘duh_ ’ implied in that sentence.
“Still doesn’t explain the _how,”_ Rip muttered to himself before clearing his throat, “Patch it through my study, would you,” he added louder as he started walking away.
_“Yes, Captain.”_
As if only remembering about Jax’s presence at the moment, Rip snapped his fingers and turned around, walking backward with a finger pointed at him.
“We’ll discuss the details later, Mr Jackson. As of now, the study is opened for you to work if needed be. I suppose you’ll know where to find the toolbox,” he barely waited for his positive response as he continued speaking, “You’ll find the blueprints of the ship there. If there’s anything else you need, I’m at your disposition,” Rip finished, giving a small bow.
Barely registering the gesture, Jax gave another nod, a small frown on his face as the Captain twisted back on his heels.
“Hey Rip?” Jax called, his tone hesitant when Rip spun back to face him, an eyebrow cocked in question. He let out a breath, his stare unwavering and sure as he met the older man’s gaze, “I just want to let you know that I’m really invested in this team and project. I won’t let you down.”
Smiling at the vehemence of the statement, Rip gave him a crooked, yet genuine, grin and tilted his head to the side.
“I never expected you to, Jax.”
**Author's Note:**
> thank you so much for reading this lil fic! you're awesome, i love you forever and we're now best friends (yes, all of you. too late to back out now) did you like it ? did you hate it ? please do let me know in the comment box below : it really, really, really makes my day(s) - i have very uninteresting days at the moment, so please. make my day. literally.
>
> you can also find me on tumblr, @generaleiafisher (and we'll really become best friends)
>
> Until next time, gorgeous people.
> Kadi. |
8bca04b35bca4b4cb1aead5f4927e5e0 | ['71b9edf3623c43efb7f68026d4848a9b'] | “Bah, the whole bed is soaking in sweat and cum, and we’re still laying in this puddle like the gay pigs we are,” he whined, voice despairing, eyebrows knitted together in a from. Ringo could only laugh at George’s disgust, his laughter tinkling through the apartment like crystal. It was a sound George learned to love in their short moments together. That laugh could chase away his pain for a moment, if not for longer. He kissed the shorter man, softly, then rubbed their noses together.
“Let’s take a shower, yeah?” Ringo asked, taking George’s hand, before getting up. George nodded, and came with him to the bathroom.
They could take on the world, together. They could make it.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sorry for the long wait!
> I had an emotionally heavy period starting in May.
>
> Thanks for reading!
**Author's Note:**
> I'm going through some stuff, writing helps a hell of a lot.
>
> The way I see it, is that I use the idea of a person (here our boys) and slightly alter them to an "AU".
>
> Have a nice day, all c: | c789b1fc62bf44c18fa4e8c810cd1627 | ['71b9edf3623c43efb7f68026d4848a9b'] | “Not until I tell you to, darling.” Came from the shorter man, who kissed him more fervently now, sitting up to deepen the kiss. George felt something stir in his belly, a good sign. It wasn’t exactly hard to feel attracted to Ringo, anyway. He felt his tongue going over his bottom lip and George admitted him access. They were both soon gasping for air, getting more and more turned on.
Ringo detached himself from George, and stood up.
“The bedroom will be more comfortable,” he said with a light smile. George looked absolutely beautiful, slightly dishevelled, with a pretty pink colour on his cheeks. He took him by the hand, leading him on. They took their shoes and socks off, crawling on the bed. Ringo stops George for a moment.
“If anything feels off, just say red. We don’t know each other too well, so I don’t know what your boundaries are. After a while, I’ll get to know you better and I’ll read you better, too. Okay?”
George nodded. Ringo took his chin, making him look the man in the eyes.
“Tell me.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, _sir_ ,” Ringo added, “I’m going to get some stuff, please do lay back and relax, okay George? I’m going to try a blindfold on you, and some light swats, if that sounds okay to you.”
“Yes, sir.” George answered. Was he doing well? If he wasn’t, Ringo would say so, wouldn’t he?
He placed himself against the cushions behind him, taking off his jacket and hoodie. The room was small and cramped but decorated to look homely. He was definitely aroused, though.
Ringo came back, not looking much different, with a simple blindfold and some water; he did have a different aura around him. Authoritative, competent, _dominant_. It sent a shiver down George’s spine.
“Look at you, what a good boy. Those pants look a little tight, don’t they?”
George nodded. Ringo lifted an eyebrow.
“I can’t hear you, darling. Speak up.”
“Yes sir, sorry.” That earned George a smile. Ringo straddled his middle, holding the blindfold.
“Ready?”
“Yes, sir.” George felt stupid at his answers. But it was what it was. The older man tied the soft thing before his eyes. George still had to adjust himself to this feeling, to the need to use his other senses.
Ringo smelled warm, like cinnamon. The room smelled pretty clean, and the bed like laundry detergent, the cheap one his Mum also uses. He feels Ringo’s fingers at the hem of his shirt, probing, tugging it up. He feels the callouses on the tips of his fingers, tracing over his skin. It gives him goose bumps. His breath hitches when Ringo focuses on his nipples, hardening them, twisting slightly.
“Do you like that, darling? You do, don’t you, I can hear it.”, a soft chuckle followed.
“I can do much more, you know. Do you want me to?”
“Yes, yes.” George breathed. Ringo tutted, nibbling on his earlobe.
“Yes, who, Georgie?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s your first time, so I’m letting not going to punish you for that now, okay darling?”
“Thank you sir.”
Ringo kissed him on the lips, biting lightly on his lips.
“Good boy, George.” He praised him, and something stirred in George’s heart. He wanted more of that. Ringo kissed him, down his neck, all over his body, making George throw his head backwards.
It was making him hard, and his jeans were too tight, anyway. Ringo seemed to have noticed it, as he snickered once, and traced the top of his jeans. He opened the button, and unzipped it. George was squirming, he wanted Ringo to touch him.
“Hmmm how eager are we, Georgie?”, he asked rhetorically, while taking the jeans off. George’s boxers were nicely tented, with a light wet spot where the head was.
“Turn around,” Ringo ordered, helping George. He wasn’t unreasonable.
The younger man let out a gasp when he put pressure on his hard dick, shivering lightly at the sensation. Ringo was getting harder, too, letting him feel it by pulling George up to lean on his hunches, ass pressed to the older man’s jeans.
“That’s what you did, you beautiful boy,” he said, while stroking George’s sides. He heard little gasps, and the start of a moan.
“Let me hear you enjoy this, George.” No answer. Perfect, this was what Ringo had been waiting for.
A light slap on his bum made George yelp. The other man placed a kiss on his spine, rubbing on the spot where he had just slapped the younger one.
“I want to hear you, George.”
“Sorry, sir.”, he mumbled.
“Hmmm, good boy, such a good boy, aren’t you?”. Ringo started kneading his ass, George emitted a deep moan. _Now we’re talking,_ he thought, pushing back into those soft hands. It earned him another slap, harder this time.
“So eager, are we? I’ll tell you when you can move.” Ringo hissed at him, slapping him harder this time. A shudder went through George, followed by a whimper and a moan when Ringo started massaging him again.
“I’m going to spank you five times now, will you count with me darling?” he asked. George had to scrape his throat before croaking a “Yes, sir,” at him. Ringo’s hand came down.
“One.”
“Two.” This stirred something in him, some deeper desire.
“Three.”
“Four.” His ass started stinging. _Wimp,_ he thought, _you can do better, pussy._
“Five.” Oh, it was stinging, alright, but it also felt… Very good.
“That’s a good lad, well done,” Ringo praised. It made George’s heart leap. Ringo was kissing his back again, stroking his hair.
“Want another round, or do you want to suck me off, darling?” he inquired. Best to not beat around the bush now.
“Can I have another round, sir?” Ringo was stroking his ass, now, humming happily.
“You can, luv. You’re doing very well.” |
f0eb25d1a3f54f078cd2c21f4b70e7d4 | ['71c8c65556cf4007959a69ab60a78ecc'] | “Noct needs me more than I need to sleep. My eyesight won’t recover from resting, I hope you understand that?” Ignis asked Prompto, not that he needed to. He was still adjusting and trying to come to terms he would be blind for the rest of his life. No matter how many days passed, it was still I struggle to accept.
“Yeah, I know… but, I want to help you as much as possible… Noct’s got Gladio with him, so stop worrying about him and focus on yourself… you’re injured too, Ignis…” Prompto’s voice trailed off.
Ignis bowed his head. Prompto was right. He was trying to run before he could walk. If he had any chance of accompanying them on the rest of their journey, he had to recuperate mentally as well as physically. “I apologise… thank you for being here, Prompto. Your presence is greatly appreciated.”
“Anytime, Ignis… I’ll always be here for you…”
“Good to know.”
~
Panic was not a feeling Ignis was accustomed to, even in the worst of circumstances, but Prompto falling from the train terrified him.
He’d kept his feelings locked away for so long that without being able to physically see him, it had become much easier to not feel the need to vocalise them, but the thought he would never be reunited with him made them surface once more.
He wept on the train by himself, avoiding Noctis and Gladio. He didn’t want them to witness this, not when the accident was a struggle for them both too, especially for Noctis.
Prompto had to be alive. They’d all been through too much for everything to end like this. He hadn’t repaid any of his debt for Prompto becoming his rock ever since the unfortunate events in Altissia. He couldn’t die…
“Be safe,” Ignis whispered with tears rolling down his cheeks. “I need you… Now, more than ever...”
~
Ignis hadn’t realised that he’d been unable to breathe properly ever since Prompto had fallen from the train until they found him in Zegnautus Keep. The tension from his body vanished. He had no idea what Prompto had been through or the extent of his wounds, but the knowledge he was alive was all he needed.
He wanted nothing more than to pull Prompto close and confess everything he’d kept to himself, but he couldn’t, not after the emotional reunion he’d had with Noctis. He had to remind himself that Prompto wasn’t interested in his affections, only his friendship.
When they found a room with beds to rest in, Ignis sat in the far corner alone, giving Prompto and Noctis the space they needed to mend everything that had happened between them, while Gladio set about doing the best he could give everyone some sustenance with their dwindling supply of noodles. Soon after he’d chosen to go sleep, just as everyone else had.
Ignis startled awake as the bed dipped. His breathing was erratic as he brought his arms up to defend himself. “Who goes there?”
“Shhh… Iggy, it’s just me,” Prompto smoothed, gently resting his hands on top of Ignis’. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to wake you up, I just… I wanted to be close to you.”
Ignis swallowed. Prompto’s whispered words taking him by surprise as he lowered his arms, somewhat embarrassed by his overreaction. His eyes welled up as he finally allowed himself to show how relieved he was to have Prompto back in the group where he could try to keep him safe. “I would like you close too…”
Prompto bit his lip. “Don’t cry, Iggy or you’re gonna make me cry,” he whispered, his voice cracking as his tears overflowed. “Damn…”
“I apologise. It’s just… I was worried about you…” Ignis reach out a hand trying to find Prompto’s, desperate to confirm Prompto really was there. He let out a breathy laugh when Prompto entwined their fingers. “Thank you…”
“No problem,” Prompto smiled, stroking the back of Ignis’ hand.
They sat in silence, each crying under the cover of darkness.
“You know…” Prompto whispered, giving Ignis’ hand a little squeeze for encouragement.
Ignis hummed, squeezing Prompto’s hand in return.
“Well… when we all got separated, there was a moment when I thought going to die… actually, there were a few of those moments,” Prompto corrected himself. He took a moment to calm himself down, listening to the snores of Gladio and Noctis. “Anyway, I had a lot of time to think and… I realised I had one regret. It sounds stupid, but I curled up against this Ebony machine and cried… proper ugly crying.”
“Prompto…”
“Hey, shhh,” Prompto laughed, squeezing Ignis’ hand again. “Those moments got me through it all, so don’t worry. But yeah, I realised I’ve been an idiot, and I didn’t want to die without speaking to you first…”
“To me?” Ignis clarified, certain he’d misheard.
“... Yeah. To you…”
“I can’t imagine why. I would have thought Noct-”
“I love you, Iggy.”
“...”
“I love you and I was a total idiot for not telling you sooner. I know you said you’ve moved on and that’s fine, but I love you… I just… I needed you to know…”
Ignis’ lip quivered. “I love you too,” he whispered through his voice cracking. “I never stopped. I’ve just been pretending to have moved on to try to spare your feelings.”
“You mean…?”
“I love you, Prompto. If you’ll still have me, I’d be honoured to call you my partner?”
“Ignis...” Prompto let go of Ignis’ hand to move his hands to cup Ignis’ cheeks. He leant down slowly, pressing his lips against Ignis’. “… I can’t believe I actually just kissed you.”
“Nor can I,” Ignis smiled, lacing his fingers into Prompto’s hair.
They kissed again, this time with more confidence.
“Say, Iggy?”
“Yes, darling?” Ignis asked, smiling for the first time in what felt like forever.
Prompto giggled into the darkness as he moved away. “Think you can budge up so I can get in?” He waited for Ignis to shuffle to the edge of the bed and in one swift movement pulled the thin blanket back and dived in, covering them both back up. “Hey…”
“Hello,” Ignis replied, wrapping his arm around Prompto as Prompto rested his head on his chest.
“I love you…”
“And I love you, darling.” | 0085d45ec67c4882bdbd728f3bf24cd3 | ['71c8c65556cf4007959a69ab60a78ecc'] | “It is?” Prompto laughed, sounding extremely nervous.
“Uh huh.” You giggled. “So you like taking photos?” You pointed at the camera in his hand.
Prompto’s face lit up as he gripped his camera tighter. “It’s kinda my passion.”
“Can I see?” You asked, hopefully. Being a painter, you loved anything that was artistic.
You took a deep breath as he moved to stand beside you and he turned his camera on to show you some photos. He had what must be hundreds of himself with the three men who were still on the fishing platform.
He laughed. “And this one’s Noct, when he had a fish hit him in the face. Oh man, that was funny!”
He continued going through his photo’s explaining some of them and laughing at others. They seemed to make him very happy.
“Oh, Oh! This one's Iggy trying not to let himself laugh but he failed anyway… This one's Gladio. He’s kicking my butt…” His voice dropped at the end of the sentence but he immediately perked up as he moved on through more photo’s.
You giggled. Prompto seemed so much more confident when he talked about his friends. You found it adorable that he cared about them so much. It was the sweetest sight, seeing the smile on his face.
Then he stopped. “And here’s the photo of you…” He lowered his voice and he looked down at you.
You looked at your picture, you felt embarrassed as you saw yourself. He had captured you really well.
You looked up at him, into his lovely blue eyes and smiled. There were butterflies in your tummy. “How about we take a better one... together?” |
4db07b44642b41338203f62a78eaf068 | ['721b5b68d1604c929e5859328b328457'] | “Admiral Admiral!” A voice is heard down the hallway of my office.
Suddenly the door is thrown open, standing there is my secretary ship.
Sendai stands there, huffing. She must have ran here.
“Admiral! The new ship! She has been completed!”
Ah, so it was true. I heard Yuubari talking about a few blow torches they found. I guess they sped up the building a bit.
“Thanks Sendai-chan. Lets both go visit her together.” Sendai quickly perks up at this, falling into step to my right.
“Ah Admiral, You got here just in time, don’t think she can last much longer in the docks.”
“Thanks Yuubari, get ready to release her.”
“Yes Admiral!”
Sendai and I are standing by the side of the drydocks, waiting for Yuubari to finish prepping the area to let the ship girl come out.
Im fidgeting, I’m just so excited. If the resources and building time were right i already know it's at least Kagerou-class. There aren't that many Kagerou class ships that are worth it that you get from building, but with the new prototype ship in the Kagerou class line i have my hopes up.
“Admiral?” Sendai to my right tugs at the sleeve of my shirt, she always knows when i'm fidgeting.
“I bet you really want to meet her again don’t you?” It feels like Sendai can read my thoughts. Yeah Sendai, i really do.
I put my right arm around Sendai’s shoulder and hold her tight.
“Yeah i do Sendai, I really do. But don’t be jealous. You're my Secretary as well as my wife, its just like meeting an old friend.”
Sendai quickly starts to hug me. So she was worried, i wish i said something sooner.
“Admiral! We are ready!” Yuubari yells from the other side of the docks.
“Do it!” I yell, Yuubari quickly pulls a lever that turns a few gears, some wood drops from the construction area leaving a cardboard box just sitting there in the middle of the docks.
Yuubari quickly runs over and lifts the cardboard box.
Standing there is exactly who i wished it was. I quickly make my way over to her side with Sendai sticking close behind.
“I… I uhh…. Um….” I can’t say any words! What a shitty reunion this is. She is finally alive and all i can do is mumble!? God damn it. It’s been years since i have seen her and here i am just tripping over my words.
She turns her head to the left, and as she looks at me she smiles. Her whole body turns to the left and she salutes me, tears dripping down her face.
“Long time no see, Admiral. Prototype Kagerou Class Destroyer, Yoichi at your service!” | f0c04fff5711482e83f6e0cb2b6572c9 | ['721b5b68d1604c929e5859328b328457'] | Voltron now out of loaded muskets to fire, picks up a pistol and suppresses the officers. This forces more officers to peak from their hiding position and start firing as well. The shots are landing close to Abe’s new position, Abe tries to see where they are coming from but only sees so many muzzle flashes in the forest behind the food stalls. He quickly realises he has spent too much time looking for police...
Abe falls back, his right shoulder in extreme pain, he can’t move his right arm at all. He takes a look and sees an entry wound went right through his shoulder joint, basicly obliterating his shoulder. Knowing he can’t fight much longer he looks to his son Voltron. “Get the FUCK out of here! I’m hit!”
Voltron looks at his Dad and panics, He wants to help his Dad but knows he should run. _ Dad’s plans always work out, so why stop trusting him now? _ Voltron thinks to himself. Voltron throws his pistol towards his Dad. “Bye Dad, see you with Uncle Conroy.” Voltron takes a few last blind shots and makes a run for where ScotsMum took the rest of the kids around five minutes ago.
Abe just breaths heavily. His shoulder still throbbing in pain and the blood oozing out onto his clothes faster and faster. This is it, time to give them the white flag. Abe pulls out a hanky from a pocket, he ties it to the muzzle of his rifle, then holds it above his head and over the rock.
“Don’t Shoot!” Abe shouts raising the rifle muzzle. ”I surrender!” Abe throws the pistols next to him over the rock he is hiding behind in a show of him giving up his firearms. He waves his homemade flag pole around in the air, as he hears some footsteps moving towards him. He hears the swat team very close to him, he waits, and soon they stop maybe five meters away from the rock.
“Throw the rifle down to your right.” one of the officers yells.
Abe follows his orders, throwing the rifle down.
“Put both your hands in the air over the rock where we can see them!”
Abe Raises his left hand, unable to raise his right. “I can’t raise my right! You hit it!”
The swat officer responds to Abe. “Keep that hand up and stand. We want to see your wound.”
Abe holding his left hand up as far as he can, stands, allowing the officers to see his shattered shoulder.
Now that Abe is standing the Swat teams rush him. Half to the right and half to the left. One tackles Abe, going right for the chest. The swat members all yell together “Stay down! Don’t try anything! Hand behind your back!” They roll Abe over and cuff Abe’s left hand, but attempt to move his right but the shoulder being destroyed making that hard. An officer on Abe’s back pulls his shoulder into position as Abe cries out in pain.
Two officers lift Abe by the shoulders, Abe buckles to his right, unable to keep any strength in his shoulder. One officer walks up to abe, punches him in his exposed sack, Abe kneels over vomiting almost instantly on the ground, his lunch now covering all the bullet casings that were littering the ground.
Abe looks up at the officer, who has a look of complete hatred in his eyes. The officer then opens his mouth to speak. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning.. If you cannot afford a lawyer you can get fucked.”
The officer then nods at the officers holding Abe up. “Take this murdering freak away.” The officers follow their orders pushing and pulling Abe towards a swat van. Right now the only thing Abe can do is hope Uncle Conroy agrees to help. He trusts his wife to take care of the kids, but it still worries him how long he may be away.
The walk towards the swat van has many stares from at least 2 dozen swat members and police officers and Abe only just now remembers that his dick is still hanging out.
“Anything you want to say before you go into the wagon freak?” An officer asks from Abe’s right side.
“Dicks out for Harambe.” Abe says as a swat officer opens the van door and throws Abe into a zoo like enclosure but for criminals. The Van starts, and Abe is taken away to a closest swat station.
TO BE CONTINUED NEXT CHAPTER.
\-----------------------------------------------------------------
My name is USER and thank you for reading my fanfic.
The first chapter of two in one story! Plus the largest one to date. This is getting crazy and after the next one i will probably try and shorten them as writing things this long is getting crazy.
Once again a few thanks are in order :
fluffybeard for editing/proofreading.How about a few words from him? : At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if I had a mental breakdown.
Voltron for basically pushing the idea of a Harambe chapter down my throat, very nicely leading me to a assisted Conroy chapter.
MrP for helping me confirm he has a harder start in life than white males:
2:51 PM - USER: hey are you fully white?
2:51 PM - MrP: no
2:51 PM - MrP: my mother was a mail order bride from Rhodesia
2:51 PM - USER: Awesome thanks
Everyone who actually caught up after seeing me spam in the Mount and blade LB chat. Sorry for the spam but i’m a whore and need recognition to allow myself to feel worthwhile.
Abe please come home. We miss you :C
Lastly, Harambe. The one and only gorilla in my life.
Thanks for reading |
0507c67d31e64659b7f871e91d2723c0 | ['72228e609dd6424c887cd47e1576a286'] | He sees no regret on her face for what she's said.
Everyone is watching, eager to see what might Draco do to his former friend. He knows, suddenly, that no matter what he does, he will be damned for it-
_he's stuck in between a rock and a hard place_.
He almost laughs at the complete irony of it, but narrows his eyes at her, conveying his anger. By the way Essa looks away stonily, he can see she's gotten the message.
_Next time, you'll get it too_.
"Come along, Theodore," Draco says loudly, a muscle ticking uncontrollably in his jaw, "we mustn't waste our time with this lot."
The entire table table seems to take a breath.
* * *
Throughout Defense, Draco cannot bring himself to pay attention to whatever Professor Lupin is saying. He is thinking.
Potter had attended the Yule Ball last year with one of the Patil twins, and Weasley had taken the other. However, rumor has it that this year, the twins are attending the feast with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan.
Granger’s hand is in the air again, and Theodore makes a nasty remark about her being sore all over that Draco pays no mind to.
Another possibility would be for Granger to attend with Potter; they are good friends. However, they're both Prefects, and so that option is null as well.
And besides, why is Draco so concerned about? If Potter takes Essa, so what? So, he tells himself, despite their friendship currently being a bit questionable, he still wishes her the best, and Potter is quite obviously very far from the best.
He's more than several notches shorter than her, he never has his hair in control, and he's a prat. Essa could do better.
She could go with him -- yes, that would be much better than stupid Potter. Draco at least is a notch or so taller, and his hair is always perfect. He may be a bit of a prat, but only to those that deserve it, anyway-
“What about Mr Malfoy?”
Professor Lupin’s eyes are on him, as well as those of the entire class.
Draco gives a quick glance at the board. There is only one word scrawled on it, _Calvario_ , which, unfamiliar as it is, gives him absolutely no information.
“This class is a complete and utter waste of my time,” he begins hastily, “and my father-”
“Oh, shut it, Malfoy,” Granger interrupts all knowingly. “The jinx _Calvario_ is derived from the Latin word _calvus_.”
“Very good, Miss Granger,” Professor Lupin praises. “Mr Malfoy, may you please tell us the meaning-”
“Bald.”
“Thank you again, Miss Granger.” Professor Lupin has to raise his voice over the snickering.
Granger ducks her head down, her wild hair bobbing, and mutters loud enough for the entire class to hear, “it's not like Malfoy knew the answer.”
“We all know he didn't, Hermione,” Weasley says seriously to the laughter of several Gryffindors. Potter looks over his shoulder at Draco, grinning. Unluckily, his nose is in perfect condition -- or as perfect as a Potter's can get, anyway.
Professor Lupin pretends not to notice any of it and Draco seethes.
He hates mudblood Granger with a ferocity that makes him want to scream. He hates Weasley, and wishes he could jinx him into oblivion. But most of all he hates Potter, who has the audacity to look back at him as if he is the class’s laughingstock just because he hadn't been paying attention for a handful of seconds.
He hates all of them, as well as everyone who's laughing. He hates Lupin for being so obviously biased towards them.
_At least_ , a voice drawls out, _they will be punished at the hands of your family for it_.
This is the only thought that keeps him from drawing his wand right then and there.
His scowl stays on his face throughout Duelling Club, although he feels it deepen when Potter challenges Essa for the second time this year.
The first time had been in the beginning of the year, when she'd been announced as the Hufflepuff Duelling Captain; three Fifth Year Duelling Captains are rare, if not impossible, and Potter had no doubt been seeking the highest ranked position.
Essa had disarmed him in less than a second -- quicker than even Draco -- forcing his first defeat from a student his age in years.
Now, Potter and Essa stand back to back, and Draco is slightly pleased to note that the top of his head comes up to her earlobe. During _his_ duel with her, the top of her head had been level with his eyebrows.
Professor Potter counts them down, looking a little nervous himself, while Lupin and Black whisper quickly in the corner.
The entire club is watching; before Essa's arrival, Potter had been the best dueller in the school, with only Draco as a rival. Everyone is anxious to see if he can reclaim his title, but in her time here, Essa has made no small amount of friends. She has supporters, many of them in Gryffindor as well.
Potter fires off a disarming spell -- his signature move -- even before he's fully facing forward. “ _Expelliarmus_!”
Essa rebounds it back at him, her pale wand flicking it forwards, but Potter deflects it behind him nonverbally as well.
He doesn't pause. “ _Confringo_!”
Someone gasps as Essa waves her wand, somehow forcing the curse to fizzle. She'd blocked it, of course, but if she hadn't she would've exploded and then caught fire.
Potter, disregarding the shock of the bystanders, begins another spell. “ _Conjunctivitis_!”
Again, Essa deflects.
Potter begins to move forward, shooting off spell after spell, all of which are blocked by Essa. His raw, untamed power is frightening to watch. Draco is having a hard time breathing. One wrong move, and Essa could land herself in the infirmary for days. | 303cfd9ff4ff4b4ca89e2d97ce632c58 | ['72228e609dd6424c887cd47e1576a286'] | Snaps has made Graham Montague the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch Team this year, and appoints Crabbe and Goyle as new Beaters early on.
Montague is relentless, working the team hard in the mornings and cramming them with Quidditch plays in the evenings. Before breakfast three times a week, Slytherin occupies the pitch, and Draco’s only saving grace is that he is a Seeker, and therefore does not have to drill the plays.
However, Montague releases a Snitch during those mornings, forcing him to focus on both dodging Bludgers and finding that damned golden ball in his drowsy state.
Occasionally he sees the new Hufflepuff Quidditch Team jogging around the school grounds in the early light, Essa at the lead and running backwards so she can urge on her teammates. Smith had made her the captain a few weeks after she’d auditioned for Seeker.
Draco, regrettably, had been studying during the Hufflepuff tryouts, but he still hears stories from Daphne and Theodore, who had been there, along with all the other shocked spectators of the Hufflepuff Quidditch Tryouts.
At the end, Essa had left her broom to flip over Summerby, her opponent for the Seeker position, sending him in such a tizzy that she’d caught the Snitch from right under his nose. Creevy had published a picture of her in the school newspaper, clutching the Snitch and giving the camera a dazzling smile.
If a copy of that picture has its own place in Draco's nightstand, who can blame him?
It is all of this combined that leads to Essa’s new reputation as the most popular witch in their year; she seems to be friends with almost everyone, and it is not just the professors that love her.
Draco is thinking about this as he changes into his night robes. Astronomy class is vile, but even worse is the fact that he has his Prefect patrols right afterwards. The nights that Essa spends with him are pleasurable, but the times that she goes to sleep instead are exhausting and long.
Draco is pleased to see that tonight is not one of those nights, but his glee doesn't last long.
“Roger Davies asked me out,” Essa tells him.
It's a fortnight before Halloween, and Draco almost spits out his grape. Together, they are perched on one of the large windows, the crescent moon outside hiding half of her expression. He shouldn’t be surprised; in fact, he’s confused that it took almost two months for someone to do something.
“The Ravenclaw Quidditch captain?” His voice cracks.
Essa nods, looking nonchalant, as if she has not just shifted his entire world on its axis. “He’s in Year Seven.”
“He is,” Draco remarks, scrutinizing her face for any emotion that might resemble joy.
Over the summer, when they'd become friends, Draco had desperately hoped for a marriage between the two of them. Unbeknownst to Essa, their parents had convened several times just to discuss the matter.
However, as soon as Father had learned of Essa’s house placement, he’d tried to call off talks of the union. Mother had interfered -- after several panicked letters from Draco himself. The union talks are temporarily, as Mother had reassuringly written to him, on hold.
However, despite the fact that Draco is no longer hesitantly betrothed, he's not a fan of Essa dating anyone else, much less Davies, who slightly resembles an ape and does not come anywhere close to deserving Essa.
“I said no to him. He wanted to eat at Madam Puddifoot's,” Essa says demurely, picking off another purple grape from the bunch. Draco’s heart starts again. “How long is there until your match against Gryffindor?”
“Almost a month,” he manages, trying to put away his curiosity.
She makes a humming sound as she leans against her side of the stone opening. Her hair might smell like apples, or it’s just his imagination; he’s not sure. It is very late.
“Slytherin is working hard?”
“Of course,” Draco says, straightening slightly. The corners of her mouth twitch up, even though she’s trying for a straight face. It’s adorable, really, the way that she never can hide a thought.
“I think you’re working hard on the plays, aren’t you?”
Draco plays along. “Of course I am. Would you like my entire playbook? I could even explain all the symbols Montague’s been using.”
He chuckles underneath his breath as she sighs, her smile disappearing.
“You thought I’d help Hufflepuff destroy my team?”
“Friends help out friends,” Essa quips, but she sounds defeated.
Draco watches her out of the corner of his eye. She is picking at her lip. “As if I would give the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain our plays.”
“It was worth a try,” Essa says, shoulders slumping slightly. “I’m worried, about the condition of our team. We’re all new! Literally every single Hufflepuff player in past seasons was in Seventh Year.”
“I remember. Diggory almost led you to victory two years ago -- last year was the Triwizard Tournament. Diggory got second in that, did you know?”
“How could I not?” Her voice lightens. “He’s our house celebrity! I heard he’s planning on attending our first match against Ravenclaw in November. I just don’t want to let him down.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Draco says, oddly uncomfortable with all the emotions she’s leaking out.
There’s nervousness, but also a strange addition of excitement that he doesn’t know how to handle, as if the mere prospect of failure in front of the entire school motivates her for some odd reason.
“Under your lead, the Hufflepuffs have never trained so hard.”
“Really?”
“I saw you out on the pitch a few days ago, teaching your Chasers the Porskoff Ploy. Even Montague doesn’t dare attempt it.”
“Are you nervous for when we play you guys?” |
e381ae1829f148b7ab1d46a23d705a7e | ['724357e403b742bcbc79874431ed5bcb'] | “Oh, you want to sing?” Reed bounced some more before letting go of the table and landing on his backside. “What do you want to sing little man?” Reed began to flap his hands at Amethyst.
“Bo! Bo bo,” Reed said with a laugh.
“Borboletinha? Again? Reed, you’re lucky you’re such a cutie.” With a sigh and a smile, Amethyst began to sing to Reed about a butterfly, making various hand movements including, his favorite, the butterfly flying.
“Brava,” Bismuth said, smiling from the doorway. “You’ve certainly perfected that song. He knows exactly when each part comes.”
“He’s a smart one,” Amethyst replied, handing Reed one of his toys. “How’s dinner coming? Did you need help?”
“Nah, it’s in the oven, just gotta wait.”
“Beh!! Behbehbeh!” Reed said, reaching out for Bismuth.
“Hi baby boy,” Bismuth said as she picked Reed up and sat down on the couch. “Are you having a good time with Amethyst?” Reed shook the toy in his hands and giggled. “Have you seen Jasper?” Bismuth asked, turning her attention to Amethyst.
“Nope. She hasn’t left the office and the door’s been shut. She mentioned she had a lot to do today.”
“Maybe I’ll go check on her, remind her dinner is going to be ready soon.” With that, Bismuth carried Reed with her to the office door. She heard Jasper call “come in” and opened the door slowly. “Hey babe, how’s it going?” Bismuth asked, placing Reed on the floor.
“Alright. I got a lot of work done today,” Jasper said, pointing at her dry erase to-do list. Bismuth picked up the marker and added ‘Eat Dinner w/ Family’ and ‘Romantic Dessert w/ Bis’. Jasper laughed. “Reed! What have you been up to my little ball of sunshine?” Jasper asked. The boy was busy pulling himself to a standing position using the chair Jasper was sitting in. “Are you gonna walk for mamma? No? Not today, but soon, right?” Reed bounced happily.
“So,” Bismuth said gently. “Are you going to make it to the end of your to-do list?”
“I think it’s a possibility,” Jasper replied with a smirk. “That last one though, it might be tough. I kind of had plans.” Bismuth leaned over the desk and kissed Jasper.
“So, cancel them.”
“But, they were with this gorgeous woman. I was hoping to …” Jasper was cut off when Bismuth whispered into Jasper’s ear before kisses her again. She winked and retrieved Reed from the floor.
“So, can I expect you to get through your list?” Bismuth asked again, this time with a sly smile.
“Yes,” Jasper replied, smiling and sighing softly. “Now get out so I can finish my work.” She kissed Reed and waved as Bismuth carried the little boy out of the office.
\---
After dinner, Jasper gave Reed a bath, changed him into pajamas, and gave him a bottle. She brought him to the living room to say goodnight to everyone before Bismuth took him to his room for his bedtime story. “Night Reed,” Amethyst said, kissing the boy on the cheek.
“Good night baby,” Jasper said as Reed waved, his head resting on Bismuth’s shoulder.
“I’ve got to get ready soon,” Amethyst eventually said with a yawn.
“Where ya headed? Don’t you have to work tomorrow?” Jasper asked as Amethyst yawned again.
“I do, but I’ve got a coffee date. I’m not going to miss out over a little bit of sleep.”
“Are you sure it’s only a little bit of sleep?” Amethyst just shrugged. “Alright, well, have fun. Wait, who are you getting coffee with?” Amethyst stood, rubbing the back of her neck.
“Uhmm, you know,” she said as she backed out of the room and into Bismuth.
“Chip, right?” Bismuth said as Amethyst turned around.
“Who’s Chip?” Jasper asked.
“Uh, Chip is …” Amethyst looked at the floor and mumbled something.
“Huh?” Jasper said furrowing her forehead.
“Go get ready Am. Don’t wanna be late.” Bismuth gave Amethyst a pat on the shoulder before nudging her towards the stairs. With that, Bismuth sat next to Jasper on the couch. “Chip is the agent that sold us the house,” Bismuth said with a smirk. “You remember how into Amethyst she was.”
“Really? Amethyst said she just thought Reed was cute.” Bismuth rolled her eyes.
“No. She thought Amethyst was cute. Though, I’m sure there was added cuteness because she was holding Reed.” Bismuth watched as Jasper made a rather disapproving face. “Oh, leave your sister alone. She’s an adult. If she wants to go out on a date, let her. Who’s she hurting?” Jasper shrugged, leaning into Bismuth. “And besides, it’s nice that she’s got a date.”
“I suppose,” Jasper replied, her eyes closed. “Is this Chip person nice? Ugh. I feel like I should go do the appropriate big sister thing, but I’m too tired for that right now.”
“Shh,” Bismuth ran her hand through Jasper’s hair. “It’s just a coffee date. You can be the protective big sister and ask her everything about Chip tomorrow.”
“Bye guys,” Amethyst said, poking her head into the living room. “I won’t be home late.”
Jasper heard the door close and sighed again. “You promised me dessert,” she mumbled with her eyes closed.
“Oh, did I?” Bismuth answered, kissing the back of Jasper’s neck. “I don’t remember that.” Bismuth pulled at Jasper’s hair, tilting her head and exposing more of her neck. “You sure that’s what I said?” Bismuth swept her tongue over Jasper’s exposed neck.
“Yes,” Jasper whispered.
“Really? Well then I suppose I should deliver on that promise.” As Bismuth began to slowly stand up, Jasper whined. “I thought you wanted dessert?”
“I don’t want you to get up.”
“Just come with me to the kitchen,” Bismuth said with a laugh. | 37183bf5295d41f4b7174000ea200f5a | ['724357e403b742bcbc79874431ed5bcb'] | When Amethyst seemed to calm, Jasper ran her fingers through the silver hair, dragging her nails gently against her mate’s scalp. “Amethyst,” she said softly. The purple gem slowly pulled away, looking back at Jasper. “Are you okay?” Jasper didn’t believe the slight nod Amethyst gave her, but nodded back just the same. “Do you want to go back to sleep?” Amethyst shook her head, dismissing her mate and freeing herself from Jasper’s arms.
As Amethyst sat on the edge of the bed, she shivered. It was an odd feeling, unlike anything she had felt before and as quickly as it came, it went. Jasper watched her mate cautiously. She knew when humans did that, it was uncontrolled and usually related to being cold, but gems didn’t get cold. When a gem shivered like that, there was another cause.
“That’s the third time you’ve done that,” Jasper eventually said as she watched Amethyst.
“Done what?” Amethyst asked, testing out her voice and blinking, looking perplexed. Jasper was at least happy to hear Amethyst speak.
“Shivered.” Amethyst looked back blankly. “The thing where your form shakes and you feel … ”
“Yeah, I know what shivering is Jasper,” Amethyst snapped. Her voice sounded horse, but more intact than it had. “I wasn’t shivering,” she replied more gently. Jasper slid over and sat next to Amethyst. “It’s this weird feeling, I can’t explain it. And I don’t know why it’s happening.”
Jasper reached for Amethyst’s shoulder and the purple gem wince slightly. “Are you in pain?” Jasper asked sincerely, retracting her hand. Amethyst just shook her head no. “You sure?” Jasper looked skeptical, especially after Amethyst’s recoil at her touch.
“It isn’t pain exactly. I dunno what it is.” Amethyst reached for her shoulder, rubbing her wrist against her gem. “But I’m alright. Really.”
“What were you dreaming about?” Jasper was becoming increasingly concerned. She knew something was very wrong, no matter if Amethyst wanted to admit it or not. The weird waking from a nightmare, the shivering, recoiling from her touch, the repeated touching of her gem, something was not right.
“Ah, I was …” Amethyst looked away from Jasper, this time running her fingertips over her gem. “I was on a ship.”
“Like … a boat?” Jasper asked, confused as to why Amethyst would be dreaming about a boat.
“No, Jasp, a _space_ ship.” Jasper grew more concerned. “It was dark, but … They were holding me down in a chair. My arms behind my back, they pushed my head back.” Amethyst squeezed her eyes closed. “They were after my gem.”
“It’s okay, shhh, you don’t have to keep going.” Jasper didn’t try to touch Amethyst this time. “It was just a dream, it’s over.”
“No! It wasn’t just a dream.” Amethyst clutched at her gem with both hands. “I can still feel it! It still feels like they’re after me; like they’re going to shatter me!” Now Amethyst was sobbing, her eyes half closed.
“Amethyst, you’re safe here. It’s just me.” Jasper reached out towards Amethyst slowly, trying to keep eye contact with her mate. “It’s just me.” She rested her hand on Amethyst’s shoulder and when the purple gem didn’t pull away, she moved her hand up to her neck. “Come here,” Jasper barely whispered pushing Amethyst towards her. In what seemed like a moment of clarity, Amethyst’s eyes opened widely before she threw herself into her mate’s arms, her own arms still covering her gem. Jasper pulled Amethyst against her chest. “It was just a dream, love. Shhh, it was just a dream. We’re safe, together.”
After what seemed like hours, Amethyst’s sobs slowed. Her breathing began to match Jasper’s as she calmed down. Eventually, Jasper felt Amethyst’s arms slowly wrap around her waist. Their bodies fit together better that way, and Jasper let out a tired sigh. “I’m sorry,” Amethyst whispered, her face buried against Jasper’s chest.
“It’s okay,” Jasper replied. Amethyst could feel her mate’s chest vibrate.
“I guess stuff with those rubies bothered me.”
“I’m always here to protect you,” Jasper whispered. “Just like you always protected me.”
\---
Jay woke to something poking at her arm. She yawned as she rolled over and saw Sunrae standing at the side of her bed. “Hi Rayrae, what are you doing out of bed?” Sunrae pouted, but continued to stare at the floor. She was much more timid than her littermates, but Sunrae was clearly fond of her big sister Jay. “Did something happen?” Jay asked gently.
Sunrae pursed her lips together before shaking her head. “My room’s scary. Sleep with JJ?” The quartet liked repetition. It is how Sunrae became Rayrae and Jay became JJ. Of course, all the gemlings had nicknames among themselves, but several names had been acquired due to the quartet’s limited speech.
“Yes, Rayrae, you can sleep with me.” Jay pulled the blanket down and let her sister climb into the bed. The quartz gemlings inherently preferred sleeping together, but each had their own bedmate preferences. Lake and Jewel had chosen each other when they were young and had continued to prefer each other’s company. Storm was a restless sleeper and liked to tell everyone she rather sleep alone, but they all knew that she slept better when Sky and/or Laz was with her. While Jay didn’t mind sleeping alone, she had often been found cuddling with Sky when they were younger. More recently, Sunrae had been finding her way out of the quartet cuddle pile to join Jay.
“What scared you?” Jay asked her sister as the little one stretched out along the bed.
“Lala talks when she sleeps,” Sunrae said as she used her sister’s hip as a pillow.
Jay just giggled. “Alright, well, go to sleep now.”
“’night JJ.”
\--- |
ad8a4b1250ab4e6cab3a8efb2a84cc83 | ['725847072d0c49d481b67ac45f721cb6'] | Showtunes
**Author's Note:**
> Hi!!!!
>
> So,this is my very first fanfic. Feel free to tell me what's wrong with it so I know how to improve my writing.I came up with the idea of this because I was listening to Hamilton and I thought-"Dean Winchester would really hate this."- cuz it's kinda the opposite of his taste in music.Also,I know Hamilton is not really show tunes because it's kinda in the rap genre, I just thought that was what Dean would call it.
>
> Disclaimer-I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters affiliated with it and neither do I own Hamilton.
>
> Anyway,happy reading!
>
> Ps.I know it's really short,I just thought I should start small and work my way up to writing larger bodies of work.
You were currently on your way to Ohio for a new case with Sam and Dean.You were in the passenger seat next to Dean,who was driving and Sam was in the back seat,mumbling every few seconds about how unfair it was that the tallest person had to sit in the smallest space.
You twisted to look back at him with a smirk,"Hey,Sammy it's not my fault that you were too slow."
He returned your smart comment with a glare and you let out a small giggle before twisting back around in your seat to face the front of the car.Sam had been forced to take the back seat when you had leapt in front of him on the way to the car,screaming "I CALL FRONT SEAT."
Dean had a small smile on his face as he listened to your conversation,however that smile quickly turned into a frown when you started fiddling with the radio.
"Hey-hey,what the hell are you doing?"
You turned to him with innocent eyes,"Changing the music?"
"Hahahah-no way.You know the house rules;driver picks the music,shotgun sh-"
"-shuts his cake hole,I know Dean",you rolled your eyes."But I think this is a special exception-I mean it's frickin Hamilton."
Dean groaned,"No-I already told you,we are not playing that goddamn showtunes crap in my car.Baby has higher standards than that."
You gaped at him,"Do you know how long it took me to make this? Since you won't allow Sam to upgrade Baby a little and the soundtrack's only available in CD format,I had to make my own mixtape Dean-MAKE IT."
"All right,all right.One song,that's it."
You grinned in delight and slotted the cassette into the player. Immediately,music began to filter out and you hummed along,satisfied. Seconds passed and then-"All right,no I can't do it-I'm sorry,no."
The sound abruptly stopped as Dean yanked the cassette out of the player and the familiar tones of Led Zeppelin filtered out into the car.
You all sat,not speaking,until-"You know,I really like Hamilton",Sam said with a smirk.
You burst out laughing as Dean groaned,"No,not you too." | 7694273e0c5a4dc881a1e36793f12b27 | ['725847072d0c49d481b67ac45f721cb6'] | Jonathan’s cheeks burned red in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean…” He paused to take a breath, “It’s just…I’m having a hard time believing that Nancy Wheeler- perfect, straight A’s Nancy Wheeler likes someone like me.”
Nancy huffed out a breath, “Jonathan, you can’t just go through what we did and not develop…something.”
This time it was Jonathan who stepped forward to press a tender kiss against Nancy’s lips, both pulling away with smiles a few seconds later.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Jonathan smiled at the memory and braved the freezing December weather as he left his car to rush towards the Wheeler residence. His relationship with Nancy had only improved from there. He didn’t quite know what to call them but it was far from the two strangers he had envisioned before.
As he raised his fist, the door opened abruptly. Nancy stood there, adorning a wide smile and a knowing glint in her eyes.
Jonathan chuckled. "You saw me sitting in my car, didn't you?"
"Yeah, only for the last ten minutes or so", Nancy confirmed with a laugh.
For a moment, both revelled in the peace that had come after "The Incident", grateful that they were still alive, that they still had the opportunity to smile sweetly at each other.
The reverie was broken by yelling from the basement. Jonathan looked towards the kitchen where Mrs. Wheeler was rolling her eyes with a fond smile.
"I should probably get down there before they decide to start another game," he murmured.
“Yeah-yeah, of course.”
With that, Jonathan turned towards the kitchen, smiling at Mrs. Wheeler as he climbed the steps to the basement. Immediately, Jonathan’s face scrunched up.
“Oh jeez, what’s that smell? You guys been playing games all day or just farting?”, Jonathan teased with a smile.
As Dustin and Lucas started to tease each other, Jonathan motioned for Will to follow him upstairs.
“Bye guys!”, Will shouted to be heard over the commotion.
It still made Jonathan smile to see that things between the boys hadn’t changed much, sure they were a little bit more protective of Will but they were still able to joke around with each other like old times. It would’ve killed Jonathan if this nightmare had taken away any more of their childhood.
As Jonathan and Will headed towards the door, ready to go home for their own Christmas dinner, Nancy came barrelling down the stairs.
“Hey, Jonathan. Wait up!”
Jonathan turned. Nancy held a small package covered in wrapping paper in her hands and as she held it out towards him, he scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion.
“I-I didn’t know we were giving presents. I feel bad…I didn’t get you anything,” he explained.
Nancy smiled sweetly at him, “It’s okay…it’s not really a present. It’s a-a well you’ll see.”
As she leaned up to kiss him, he turned his head so her lips connected with his cheek, slightly embarrassed at the watchful eyes of Will. But as she pulled back with a hurt look in her eyes, Jonathan leaned down and captured her lips in his, not caring that he would later get teased by Will for the public display of affection.
And how right he was. (“I can’t wait to tell mom that you’re dating Nancy!”, teased Will. Jonathan was too happy from the memory of Nancy’s lips on his and the sound of Will’s laughter echoing in the car to even care.)
Later, when Jonathan pulled the paper off the present to find a new camera, he would smile and know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was falling in love with Nancy Wheeler. |
32035efb041b4ebdb2f07d1dc4f1c3ca | ['725dd6a2169342368a16ed325a1aba24'] | Yoongi feels every bend and press of Hoseok’s fingers inside him, feels the way his body reacts so strongly with jerks and shivers of its own. He’d been missing out, he realizes. Why was he spending so much time in the studio when this was waiting for him at home?
Hoseok very pointedly drags his fingertips along Yoongi’s prostate, making him spasm and groan in surprise. Between them, his dick twitches. Hoseok must notice, because he smiles down at Yoongi deviously, like a fucking lion that’s just pinned down its next meal.
“Are you gonna come?” he asks and Yoongi thinks _yes- fuck, yes_ , but with the last semblance of his mind, he grabs hold of Hoseok’s arm and the movements inside him cease.
“I don’t want- I don’t wanna come yet.” Yoongi pants, digging his fingernails into the skin of Hoseok’s arm. _Liar_. “I want you to fuck me.”
Hoseok’s fingers still inside him, and Yoongi whines and finds himself grinding down on them.
“You want me to what?”
Yoongi’s body refuses to still, hips circling just for the slightest bit of friction. “I want you to fuck me.”
Hoseok pulls his fingers out of Yoongi’s ass, ignoring the mess in order to trap Yoongi beneath him with a hand either side of his head. He drops his head to nudge at Yoongi’s nose with his own. Between them is nothing but heat.
“Are you going to ask me like a good boy or am I going to have to make you?”
“Please, Hoseok.” Yoongi’s voice is nothing but a whisper into Hoseok’s mouth, barely even audible. “Please fuck me.”
Without even a pause, Hoseok is pulling away to reach for a condom. He’s impatient, fingers too slippery with lube and sweat to be able to get a good grip on it so he resorts to tearing it open with his teeth. Yoongi whines so beautifully underneath him, hooking his ankles around Hoseok’s waist in an attempt to pull him closer while Hoseok struggles to get the condom on. It’s infuriating, the way he fumbles with the bottle of lube because he’s being over eager and rushing, but there’s a sense of urgency in the way Yoongi’s pulling at him, saying his name over and over like he can’t bear the distance between them, like he doesn’t like being apart now that he remembers how good it is when they’re together and it’s making Hoseok delirious because he _knows._
Hoseok can barely see straight. God, he’s missed him.
When he’s finally lined up, there’s a pregnant pause where Hoseok stops moving and Yoongi stops whining and they just stare at each other. Yoongi is rosy from his cheeks to his chest, the odd red mark littered here and there where Hoseok got too over-zealous with his teeth, his hair splayed on the pillow as he breathes heavily. The hollow of Hoseok's throat glistens with sweat in the warm light, the muscles in his arm tensed as he holds his upper body above Yoongi, damp hair just falling in his eyes when they look at each other. It’s hot and it’s intense and it’s familiar, and just before Hoseok pushes in, Yoongi leans up to kiss him. An _I’m sorry you’ve been lonely_ and an _I missed you too_.
Hoseok pushes his head in with a hiss, biting down on Yoongi's bottom lip enough to hurt. An _I forgive you_. He lets go and trails his lips down Yoongi’s chin, down his neck, along his collar bone as he edges in a little bit at a time, going slow not because Yoongi can’t take the stretch, but because he knows he’s bound to be overstimulated by now and he wants him to enjoy this. He doesn’t want Yoongi to be so overwhelmed that it doesn’t feel good.
Yoongi looks a vision, with his head tipped back and his jaw dropped in a silent groan. His vision has started to blur around the edges, and he does his best to blink it away but then Hoseok’s moving; innocently adjusting his position to be more comfortable for the both of them but every nerve in Yoongi’s body is in overdrive and he can feel even the slightest of drags of Hoseok’s cock inside him. It’s too much and not enough all at once.
“Hoseok,” Yoongi groans, voice breaking and it’s enough permission to get Hoseok moving properly.
He pulls out slowly until nothing but the head is left inside Yoongi before slamming back in roughly, knocking the air out of Yoongi’s lungs. Hoseok pulls out slowly again before snapping his hips forward quickly. He does it over and over, idly fisting Yoongi’s cock when he does; he’s clearly content with the slow, agonising pace he’s set but it’s not enough for Yoongi, not enough at all. “Faster.” He mumbles it somewhere into the side of Hoseok’s face, but he clearly hears it because his movements slow.
“What was that?”
Yoongi groans, wriggles as if to tempt him back into moving properly. “ _Faster,_ Hoseok.”
Clearly that was the wrong thing to say, because Hoseok’s pulling back, pulling away from Yoongi to sit on his knees and suddenly they’re so far apart. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, Yoongi.” His hands are on his knees, slipping down between his thighs, so close to his dick but not touching. “Try again.”
Yoongi screws his eyes shut, twists his body away so he can hide his face as much as he can as he mumbles out “Please, Hoseok, please fuck me faster.”
Hoseok’s hands are replaced with his lips, and he’s kissing and biting his way down Yoongi’s thighs as much as their position will allow. “When you’re a good boy, you’ll always get what you want, you know that, right?”
Yoongi’s next question is immediately followed by a deep red flush like he’s mortified at what just come out of his mouth.
“Have I been a good boy?” | 3b71c8c4f8264a899a8055733b645976 | ['725dd6a2169342368a16ed325a1aba24'] |
Natural Progression
**Author's Note:**
> I'm bad at summaries.
>
> Taeco is the most underrated ship in the Block B fandom. Please love this ship/fic as much as I do.
>
> (LINK is the song mentioned. I know nothing about 4MEN tbh I'm sorry.)
>
> Enjoy!!
“-oh, and the rapper line are getting singing lessons starting next week. The Director thinks it’ll add an interesting dynamic to hear the rappers singing for your next comeback.”
With that the meeting comes to an end and the studio door opens, all the members bowing respectfully as their manager leaves for the night. All the members apart from one – Woo Jiho – who’s frozen to his chair in what looks like panic. Or maybe fear.
“What’s wrong with him?” Minhyuk asks, voice straining as he stretches his lean body upwards. Everyone but Jiho move languidly as they start getting ready to head back to the dorm. Kyung appears, out of nowhere, at his side with a smug grin that takes over the bottom half of his face, making Minhyuk jump back slightly in shock.
“Jiho can’t sing.” Kyung states, his smirk growing impossibly wider. All of the members then stop what they’re doing to turn to face their uncharacteristically pale leader, who doesn’t seem to hear a single word being said around him, nor notice the eyes on him.
“He can’t sing?” Yukwon repeats as he pulls on his hoodie, though it sounds more like a question. “Have you ever heard him?”
Kyung turns to Yukwon, smile still in place. “Technically no, but this one time-”
“Unless you’ve actually heard Jiho sing and he really is completely tone deaf, you’re in no position to go around telling everyone he can’t sing, Park Kyung,” it’s Taeil who speaks this time, the one who seems least affected by the situation (or cares the least; you can never be sure with Taeil), pulling on his shoes and tying his laces, “it’s not as if you’re not lacking in anything.”
Kyung, deciding not to let Taeil’s comment ruin his opportunity to embarrass Jiho in front of everyone, continues anyway.
“Yeah ok, but do you wanna give me different explanation as to why, when we were thirteen, I went over to his house and caught him singing along to Chris Brown in terrible English, and he got so embarrassed that he-”
“Yah, Park Kyung,” Jiho speaks for the first time, though his voice isn’t angry or embarrassed, it’s scarily composed, as is his face, “unless you want me to tell everyone what we did in 9th grade at Minsoo’s party, I think you should stop talking.”
The room falls silent, waiting to see what happens. Everyone knows better than to get in between Jiho and Kyung when they’re arguing.
“You wouldn’t.”
“So we were playing spin the bottle-”
“Alright alright alright!” Kyung shouts over Jiho, moving a step closer as he raises his arms to stop Jiho. All signs of his previous confidence are gone, and Taeil rolls his eyes, “I got it, I’ll stop.”
“When you two are done having your lover's tiff, come and meet me in the lobby.” Taeil yawns, effectively gaining everyone’s attention, “I’ll buy dinner.”
“Samgyeopsal?” Yukwon asks hopefully.
“Don’t push your luck.”
The members then begin to file out of the studio, first Yukwon, closely followed by Minhyuk and Jaehyo and then Jihoon and Kyung, who are bickering about whether or not what happened at Minsoo’s party should be exposed (‘Hyung, it’s unfair that you and Jiho have so many secrets.’ ‘There’s no way I’m telling you, Jihoon. I’d rather be castrated than have that story get out.’ ‘But hyung-’).
“Are you not coming?” Taeil asks when he notices Jiho is still sat in his chair, making no effort to join them.
“No, I have some stuff I wanna work on before I leave. You go ahead though. Tell them not to wait up for me.”
Taeil should probably say something, tell him to stop being such a recluse and come out for a meal with them. They all know what Kyung’s like; no one’s gonna bring it up when their mouth is full of food anyway. Or maybe he should give him some words of encouragement as his hyung, tell him it’ll all be ok, that it’s not the end of the world because he can’t sing – his rap, writing and producing skills more than make up for it. Or maybe he should just offer to beat Kyung up for him; Kyung’s slightly taller than him but he’s built like a twig so Taeil’s pretty sure he could take him. But Jiho seems distracted and more embarrassed than he’s ever seen the leader, so he opts instead to just keep his mouth shut.
“Alright, but make sure you’re not here all night; you need some sleep. And make sure you eat, too. I know you like to skip meals when you’re here.”
“Yes, hyung.” Jiho sighs, but he smiles anyway, which makes Taeil feel a little less worried. Still though, he’s curious about the crinkles in Jiho’s forehead and why he looked like he’d been told some terrible news when he found out about the singing lessons. But before he can start asking any of those questions, he tucks his phone into his pocket and leaves with a nod.
* * * |
0da5207e49ef49668d3d3df34cc223c5 | ['7284600521f747c9b8764b085527a684'] | The Most Beautiful Things
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
She was a light sleeper, waking to almost any sound. It was a defensive mechanism; she was a soldier who never quite left the battlefield. But he was trained for silence. So she awoke to him stroking her hair.
“All is well, siha.” He said, seeing her body lose the relaxed state of sleep. She gave him a questioning look. “I just missed you.”
It was a simple admission, but hard-won for both of them. The assassin and the officer. They each had their own code, their own rules, and somehow had found each other despite their differences. There was enough that was the same. They both had ghosts to follow them, and loved ones lost. Thane had found comfort in her arms. She, she had found a peace she had never understood.
But there could be no lasting peace in this war. A steady beeping started from the nearby terminal. Some vital message, a warning, or someone else to save. With a sigh, she pulled herself out of bed, kissing Thane lightly on the cheek. “I missed you too.”
Thane had been preoccupied with loss these past weeks. His son was returned to him, but there was still a great emptiness between them. Things that could not be regained. She was with him, supporting him, even as she bore the stress of the whole crew on her shoulders. He should not rely on her strength but as his own health deteriorated he found that he needed her more and more.
A response provided, she closed the terminal and poked him in the side. “You’ve been very maudlin these last few days. Let’s see if we can fix that.” She fell back onto the bed, beckoning him to her. Thane took her hand and smiled.
Each time she left the ship, Thane said a prayer, to Arashu, to Kalahira, any of the gods who might listen. And each time she returned, he prayed in thanksgiving. She would not be able to remember him perfectly when he was gone, so he vowed to give her as many memories as possible.
She often worried about her strange drell assassin; a man so skilled with his hands in battle, and in bed. There was no one more precious to her, and so she relished every moment with him. And she feared that her missions would bring him to an early grave. Let the younger ones fight for her. She needed something, someone, to come home to. He was her safe harbor. And she would never let him go.
**Author's Note:**
> Some say an army on horseback,
> some on foot, and some say ships
> are the most beautiful things
> on this black earth,
> but I say
> it is whatever you love.
>
> Sappho (tr Stanley Lombardo)
>
> For pandasintheimpala (pandasinthetardis) who is going through a tough time. | afaf4c611ee84315a5ad65078a8465ce | ['7284600521f747c9b8764b085527a684'] | Ahead were a motley group of mercenaries. They clearly weren’t as disciplined as the Chargers, or perhaps they hadn’t worked together for as long. Most seemed curious as she approached. Others wore darker looks. There was no way to screen out every assassin, and for a moment Nascha wished Cole had joined them. He was quick to suss out the intentions of most people but even if he couldn’t, his daggers would be a welcome back up. She had left her bow back in the armory. She only had one dagger in her boot should the worst happen.
But Cullen was a trained templar and Nascha pushed the fears away as baseless. Clearing her throat, she stepped forward and addressed the group.
“Welcome to Skyhold. I’m Inquisitor Nascha. I appreciate you’ve had a long journey here and I won’t keep you. Cullen will assign training schedules through Iron Bull, who. Once you’re assessed you’ll be given work assignments. Quarters will be assigned later today. See the quartermaster if you’re missing any gear or supplies. We have a Revered Mother and several sisters to minister to any needing spiritual guidance. Any questions?”
The basics of the speech had been written by Josephine, at Nascha’s request. “I’m not an orator. Give me something to work with at least.” The ambassador had been happy to help and had spent the entire day with Nascha working over the best wording and tone and presentation. She needed to be martial, but approachable. She had to be Andraste’s chosen for the faithful but also make it clear that she was not some wild evangelist for the more practical minded.
There was a short silence and Nascha took the time to look at the mercenaries gathered before her. Three or four qunari, but the majority were human, elves, and dwarves. The dwarves looked the least impressed with her. It didn’t surprise her. Few dwarves, even those raised on the surface, followed Andraste. While a human might hate to have a dwarven leader, few dwarves understood why another of their kind would bow to a human priesthood.
“Show us the mark!” She didn’t catch who had yelled out and only allowed herself the smallest sigh. It was a common enough demand.
“Without a rift, there is little I can do.” And Andraste protect those who found themselves near a rift without her nearby. The demons would come through, again and again, until the mortal forces were overwhelmed. She would have to leave Skyhold again soon, hunting for more of the rifts that blighted the land.
She raised her hand and concentrated. The mark, green and magical in a way that no dwarf should know, glowed. Against the sun setting behind them it was likely an impressive sight. Josephine and Cullen together had planned where to bring new recruits and when to introduce them to their Herald and Inquisitor.
But if she was Andraste’s chosen, were such tricks necessary? Perhaps she would speak with Mother Giselle. She always had some word of wisdom, or story of Andraste’s own struggles that made Nascha’s seem minor and childish in comparison.
The volunteers, satisfied in their choice, were dispersed with a sharp word from Cullen. Nodding to him, she turned back to Skyhold. No more hiding tonight, she only wanted her bed. |
4797583368284b96aa7a2396bb8daf26 | ['72a4feee18c94fa6941e878a80373de6'] | He smiles into the kiss when he tastes traces of himself on Jimin's tongue and part of him laments that he didn't let him suck him to completion. There isn't much Hoseok loves more than seeing his kitten choke around his cock when he comes down his throat but luckily, fucking him into the mattress was right up there with it.
“A slut is what you are,” Hoseok growls and Jimin whines, “leaking all over because you're so desperate to have your greedy little hole stuffed with cock.”
Grinding his hips to meet Hoseok's steady thrusts, Jimin arches into him. His own cock lies on his belly, neglected and helplessly drooling precome. Jimin has half a mind to reach down and close his short fingers around his shaft but Hoseok's huff lets him still.
“Do you think you earned that?”
Hoseok gives him a second to respond before he grabs his wrist and pins it to the mattress above his head. He dives in for a messy kiss and removes his fingers from Jimin's ass, using the back of Jimin's thighs to wipe the excess slick off his fingers. The hybrid yelps and digs his fingers into Hoseok's shoulder, sharp nails cutting into golden skin. Jimin groans in displeasure at the sudden emptiness and briefly sinks his teeth into Hoseok's bottom lip, drawing a pained gasp from him.
“I could've fucked myself on your cock while you were asleep” Jimin says with a snarl and moves his hand to rest in the back of Hoseok's neck, “but I waited for you to wake up.”
“Oh, I feel honored,” Hoseok scoffs and hooks his arm under Jimin's knee to lift his hips off the mattress. It's a signal for Jimin to relax, the process being so familiar that it's hard to not get completely swept away by it. He goes pliant under his touch, kiss-swollen lips parted and small sounds falling from them every time Hoseok rolls his hips against his. Jimin's tail curls around Hoseok's thigh, so gentle it's a tickle more than anything.
“Seokie~” Jimin purrs, free hand slowly finding its way down Hoseok's chest, feeling the smooth skin under his fingers. Their eyes meet for a second before Jimin's thumb brushes over one of Hoseok's nipples, causing his hips to kick forward involuntarily. Jimin's initial grin quickly fades when Hoseok blows air at one of his ears. Jimin shivers and shakes his head, cat ear twitching until the unpleasant feeling is gone.
“My little kitten gets so worked up in the middle of the night,” Hoseok adds and lets his length slide along Jimin's twitching cock, “simply because he wants his master to fuck him.”
Jimin whines and moves to rub against the heavy erection resting on his lower belly, slick relentlessly dripping from his hole onto the sheets. He draws strings of little moans from Hoseok every time his plush ass brushes past his balls, covering them in slick as well.
“Maybe so,” Jimin drawls and arches his body into Hoseok's heaving chest, “so why aren't you fucking me yet, _master_?”
He's basically moaning the last word and Hoseok can't help but claim Jimin's mouth for a rough kiss, shifting his legs just enough to bring himself in position. Jimin gasps into the kiss and wiggles to get his other hand free, wrapping his arm around Hoseok's neck as soon as he lets go.
“Brat,” Hoseok hisses as his tip catches on Jimin's sloppy hole, pulling a breathless cry from the younger. He whines when Hoseok pushes in, easing in the tip so Jimin's walls close snugly around the head. It's like he's trying to swallow him whole, muscles contracting around him. He's felt this a thousand times before but Hoseok swears he will never tire of feeling Jimin's body accepting him so easily, reaffirming their bond over and over again.
Clawing at Hoseok's shoulders, Jimin's legs close tightly around his waist to pull him inside further, but Hoseok shakes his head. It's tempting to simply take what Jimin is so willing to give him but he has different plans.
He leans down and presses his cheek against Jimin's, “Be a good kitten and turn around.”
Jimin pouts but quickly falters when Hoseok presses firm kisses to the side of his neck, sparing the strip of soft velvet on his way down. Pushing Hoseok off of him with more force than necessary, Jimin untangles himself from his partner and turns around, tail curling prettily above his back. Hoseok grins at his kitten's passive aggressive move and lets him arrange himself on the bed before him. He doesn't even bother propping himself onto his elbows, knowing full well that Hoseok will push him down sooner or later anyway.
Proudly watching his hybrid get on his knees and exposing his dripping hole, Hoseok gives himself a few lazy strokes, mind briefly wandering off at the sight. The beautiful swell of his cheeks is littered with red marks he'd left there mere hours ago, Jimin's lustful cries resounding in his head. His erection hangs heavy between his legs, flushed pink and painfully neglected. It looks nothing short of delicious, Hoseok thinks, absentmindedly licking his lips.
Jimin's tail starts swaying impatiently as he waits for Hoseok to continue doing what he's started and growls lowly when he doesn't snap out of it directly.
“Fucking-- stop staring and do something,” Jimin complains more into the pillow under his head than at Hoseok.
Hoseok hums and shuffles back a little, bracketing Jimin's knees between his. He lets go of himself and reaches for Jimin, fitting his palms over the soft skin of his ass. | 3502c54fcabe4adb9bfd304df21a5d23 | ['72a4feee18c94fa6941e878a80373de6'] | “You did well, kitten,” Hoseok praises and lies down next to him, combing the hair out of Jimin's flushed face. His eyes are unfocused, wet with tears and lust. He leans in to kiss him, soft and cautious as if not to shatter the peace of the moment. Jimin sighs as he turns to lie on his side, careful to keep their lips connected the whole time. His fingers sink into Hoseok's curly hair, pulling and scraping as he's being pulled closer, molding so easily to Hoseok's warm body.
One of Hoseok's hands trails down Jimin's chest, teasing his nipple with his thumb before dipping further down between them. It's sticky and messy and Hoseok can't help but smear some of the slick between them onto Jimin's limp cock.
Jimin squirms and moans into the kiss, rutting into Hoseok's touch.
“Seokie--”
Sharp nails scrape over his scalp as Jimin pulls him in, roughly licking over his boyfriend's swollen lips.
“Wanna suck you off,” Jimin eventually says, his tone calm and not allowing for any objection. Hoseok relaxes when Jimin gently pushes him to lie on his back, easily straddling his hips as soon as he does. He leans over to the bedside table and produces a butt plug from one of its drawers while Hoseok is busy watching the hybrid's cock fatten up in anticipation. Jimin is not as insatiable as he is during his heats but it's remarkable how short his refractory period is naturally.
“Leave it in afterwards.”
One last kiss and Jimin hands Hoseok the plug and turns around, presenting his loose hole once again as he kneels down, knees bracketing Hoseok's shoulders. His puffy rim is covered in slick and traces of Hoseok's cum. He's tempted to lick it and taste himself but he lets Jimin settle over him first before giving in.
Jimin squeaks at the feeling of Hoseok's hot tongue pressing against his hole and clenches around it, causing more slick to gush out.
“You're so messy,” Hoseok chuckles and licks a long stipe over his perineum, tasting Jimin's sweet slick like nectar.
It's only when Jimin's lips close around the tip of his cock that he stills, breathing out against Jimin's entrance. His eyes flutter shut when Jimin sinks down on him, the wet heat of his mouth knocking all air out of Hoseok's lungs. He lets his head fall back into the pillows for a moment, reveling in the new wave of arousal flooding his system.
Blindly feeling for Jimin's hole, Hoseok sinks in two fingers to keep Jimin entertained. Judging by his undisturbed movements, he barely noticed the intrusion. Hoseok growls lowly and presses his fingers into Jimin's soft walls, patiently searching for his prostate. When he eventually finds it, Jimin's response is immediate, his whole body keening into the touch. His tail curls and uncurls itself as he lets Hoseok massage his prostate, whimpering and begging him to do it harder.
“Work for it, kitten,” Hoseok hums and plants his feet on the bed so he can push his hips up into Jimin's awaiting mouth.
And for once, Jimin doesn't counter but forces Hoseok's cock deeper down his throat, its girth making it near impossible to swallow around it or keep his fangs away from it. There's tears in his eyes from the strain but he takes it with as much grace as he can fathom, pressing his barbed tongue flat against Hoseok's shaft.
Hoseok hisses praise after praise and cants his hips in time with the movement of his fingers, feeling himself getting close. Where Jimin was half-hard mere minutes ago, he's back to full hardness and Hoseok decides that it's time to plug his kitten up and take care of his cock instead. He puts the baby blue plug to Jimin's hole and presses it in, his rim stretching effortlessly around the impressive size of the plug.
Jimin gives a muffled cry when the toy breaches him, sinking in agonizingly slow. Of course it's Hoseok who keeps a secure grip on it, making sure to witness every second of Jimin's abused hole clenching and closing around it. When it's finally in, sitting snugly between Jimin's butt cheeks, Hoseok gives a satisfied hum and feels himself leaking precum. He places a kiss on the soft skin of Jimin's ass and reaches around to take his cock into his hand, fingers closing tightly around it.
Jimin gasps and instinctively ruts into Hoseok's hand, momentarily forgetting that he was supposed to suck him off. Hoseok's upward thrust comes unexpected and Jimin chokes on the length sliding down his throat. It's what pushes Hoseok over the edge, body tensing as he thrusts up a second time, coming deep in Jimin's mouth. His cock pulses and ropes of hot cum spurt down Jimin's throat, the hybrid obediently swallowing all of it.
Caught in a mix of too many contradicting sensations, Jimin fucks weakly into Hoseok's loose fist, blindly following his instinct. It's not long until he comes as well, releasing onto Hoseok's heaving chest and finally pulling off of his softening cock. Jimin lets himself drop down next to him, barely strong enough to move. He feels dizzy from the amount of cum he swallowed.
“C'mere,” Hoseok offers and navigates both of them in a comfortable position, generously ignoring the fact that they're both covered in all kinds of bodily fluids that will get icky and disgusting sooner rather than later.
Wrapping his arms around Jimin's spent body from behind, Hoseok places numerous kisses on the back of the younger's neck and head, whispering quiet “I love you”s.
“Love you more,” Jimin mumbles back, mind already drifting off.
Hoseok chuckles. “Sap.”
**Author's Note:**
> thank you <3 |
e74558441c2945aeb2471ea30ea98889 | ['72b1fc5a299c40369c1d56f97642748c'] | Damn he is so adorable...
Ughhh get a hold of yourself Alec!!!!
"I promised your family i would bring you back." His pout turned into a serious upset expression and he looked down.
"H-how will i face them?" He asked in a small voice.
"You don't have to face them...Magnus, they are your family...They love you." I say.
"But...i don't know...i can't...."
"Look they get why you left...maybe i would have done the same thing." I put my finger on his chin tilting his face towards me.
"Alexander i..."
"Hey i will be with you the whole time..." I assured him.
But yet he had a doubtful expression.
.
.
.
"Besides we won't stay for too long." I say and he raised his eyebrow.
"Because kissing you is very addictive and i can't go on for long without kissing you." He laughed.
"Well I could get used to that." He said smiling.
"You better do....shall we?" I asked offering him my hand.
"Let's do this." He said lacing his fingers with mine.
************************************************************************************************
We soon reached my parents place where everyone was waiting for Magnus.
As soon as i lifted my hand to open the door...Magnus tightened his grip on our interlocked hands.
"Magnus..." i slowly turn to face him.
"Just please stay by me ok?" He whispered looking down.
"Hey...look at me...they are the same Clary and Izzy that adore you...The same Jocelyn and mom who care about you and the same Max and Dad who respect you and the same Ryu who is so fond of you....You will be fine."
"What would i do without you?" He asked.
"There is never gonna be a time where you will have to be without me." He smiled and i kissed the side of his head.
I give him one last look and he nodded assuring me he is ready.
As we entered i could hear murmurs coming from the living room.
I looked at Magnus who seemed completely nervous squeezing his hand i led him to where everyone was.
"Ready?" I asked and he gulped.
"Guys??" I say entering inside with Magnus beside me.
Everyone looked up in our direction.
"Magnus!!!!" Clary shrieked and ran to him hugging him.
"What were you thinking jerk." She said pulling away and hitting his head.
"Owww." Magnus yelped making me chuckle.
I slowly let go of his hand as everyone gathered around him blasting him with their questions and concerns.
I leaned against the nearest wall staring at the scene.
I smiled when i saw Magnus laughing nervously as mom and Jocelyn scolded him.
"Hey buddy..you did it." I heard Jace's voice.
"I did it." I smirked.
"Wait a minu--- what's with that creepy smile?" I just shrugged.
"You!!! You totally made out with him didn't you!!!?" He whispered yelled.
I started laughing as he playfully pushed my arm.
"Shut up." I tell him.
"Alec." I looked up to see Clary standing in front of me holding Magnus' arm
"Hey..." i say pushing myself off the wall and straightening my posture.
"T-thankyou a lot." Before I could answer Izzy dragged them away.
"Alecccc come here tell us the whole thing." I groaned and joined the crowd.
"So tell us Magnus did you guys talk it out?" Mom asked.
"Uhhhh..." Magnus begun.
"Do you know Alec puked on Jace!!!" Max snorted high fiving Izzy as all of them burst out laughing.
"Heyyy!!!" I groaned.
"Stop it everyone leave Alec alone." Mom said hitting the back of Max's head.
"So Alec did you talk things out?" She asked.
"Oh yeah did you Alec?? Had a goooood talk!?" Jace teased.
"Uhhh yeah we did---" Magnus began and Jace and Max started howling.
Ughhhh....
They all are so annoying.
You know what...
Fuck It!!!
I grabbed Magnus' face with both my hands and turned him to face me.
And crashed our lips together.
He let out a grasp and i just took the opportunity to slip in mll tongue.
Giving him a small yet passionate smooch i pulled back.
He stared at me in disbelief before realizing what happened.
"A-Alexander!!!!" He cried.
"What???...i guess that answers all your questions...we will be on our way." I said and got up lifting Magnus up in bridal style.
"Whaaa---Alec put me dow--what the hell!!!!" He screamed but i ignored it all.
.
.
.
"Use protection!!!!" Izzy yelled from behing us making Magnus yelp in surprise.
"Wha---we are not---" He gaped.
"Bye everyone!!!!" I laughed and walked out.
"Hey Alec put me down." He murmured burying his face into my neck.
"Are you blushing?" I laughed.
"What else do you expect me to do?" He groaned.
"Okay okay..." I said and walked over to a park lowering him onto a bench.
"So...how do you feel?" I asked sitting next to him.
"I feel...like...a whole." He smiled genuinely and interlocked our hands again.
"I am glad you do." I brought up our hands and kissed the back of his hand.
"You know....you are really cliche?"
"Well i guess i am..is it bad?" I asked.
"No i love cliche!!!" I laughed and kissed the side of his head.
"You know there is one thing i learned from whatever we have been through in the last few days." He said.
"What is that?"
"We need to work on our communication skills." He said giggling.
"Oh that's an understatement!" We both burst out laughing.
"Also today has been the longest conversation that we ever had."
"Well then i guess working on our communication is in progress." I said wrapping my hand around him and pulling him close.
He put his head on my shoulder and we just sat there with happy smiles on our faces.
.
.
.
We sat there in silence for a while letting in the moment.
The calm atmosphere was just what we needed.
All these days have been so stressful.
"How did you find me?" He asked.
"Your Friend told us where you were." | c6d031dc3c054dcf9544ec43d37fb18d | ['72b1fc5a299c40369c1d56f97642748c'] | I feel terrible for this...i feel like i use him or something...
Just keep making it difficult for him.
I drove over to his place....
********************************************************************************************
By the time i got back home it was already around 10:30pm.
Pete was being pete with phrases like
"Great so he has a lover too!"
I tried to argue but i couldn't...
Cause let's face it...i barely knew anything about Alec.
But i trust mom.
And if she trusts him..i am gonna trust him too.
I was about to ring the bell but decided against it took out my key to open the door.
I walked into the dimly lit hall.
"Alexander?" I call out but no response.
I guess he asleep already.
I walked in furrher to the most adorable thing i could've seen.
Alec was sprawled out on the couch with his legs on the armrest as a gaint man like him couldn't fit on the couch.
Ryu was lying on this chest...his cheek against Alec's heart.
Alec's hand was resting on Ryu's little bum while other was on his back.
They both looked adorable with their small snores.
I smiled at the sight and couldn't help but click a picture or two sending each to Max, Izzy And Clary.
I knew it was a very uncomfortable position for Alec so i had to wake him up.
First i picked up Ryu off his chest and immediately his grip tightened and he started waking up.
"Its just me." I whispered and he loosened his hold.
"Your back." He said and finally got up.
"Yeah i met a friend on my way." He nodded and placed his hand on his neck.
"You could've sprained your neck or back." I say.
"Yeah i just fell asleep." He sighed.
"Obviously you must exhausted after work and then this...Just go get some rest." I suggested.
"What about you?"
"I will leave him in your room after a while." I said nervously.
"You are...Magnus your nightmares are not your fault!" He sighed.
"But i might wake Ryu and---"
"Both of you are sleeping in my room." He said standing up.
"What?" He wants to sleep together?
"I didn't mean it like that...you just didn't wake up the entire night after i came in your room." He stopped and looked at me.
Wait so he was there.
The entire night?
In my room.
"I thought you left after i fell asleep."
"I wanted to...but i couldn't...Magnus i am sorry didn't mean to creep you out like this." He said panicking.
"That's why i never woke up again...are you trying to say that maybe your presence keeps my nightmares away?"
"I wouldn't say my presence...." He scratched his neck.
"Alec...its ok."
"No its not..i-i just wanna help...all this time we were living under the same roof...and you had these vicious dreams every night i never even heard you once until last night because it was comparatively violent...how could i not hear you all this time where a presence of someone might have helped you." He looked away guiltly.
I looked at him.
Just stared at him.
Simply out of words.
Why does he feel so guilty.
It should be me.
I was never strong enough to fight this.
But its different.
For the first time ever someone's presence soothed me.
It never happened before i had these dreams while i slept in the same room as clary or pete or anyone.
Just sharing space wasn't enough.
But...
Alec's presence was enough.
How?
"If...there is a chance i can help you...then please let me..i dont even mean to share a bed or something...i will sleep on the floor...i just think we should see if sharing a room helps." He said.
"Alexander...i am in."
"Y-you are?" He seemed a little astonished.
"Yes and as far as it is about you sleeping on floor..that's not happening...i will sleep on the floor its your room after all."
"No way..." he argued.
"Then we are sharing the bed." He opened his mouth to say something but shut it the next moment.
"What? Do have a problem with sharing your bed?"
"No no not at all."
"Good then i will be there soon...i need to change first." He nodded and i handed him ryu as he took him to his room.
*****************************************************************************
Alec's Pov
***********
I got into my bed after placing Ryu into his cradle which i took out from the storeroom earlier today.
He seemed to be fine so i went to bed waiting for Magnus...
Was i crossing the line?
I hope he is not creeped out by me.
I sighed.
"May i come in." He said knocking the door.
"Do you even have to ask?" He laughed and made his way to the bed.
"Do you think Max will be fine?" He asked after awhile.
"To be honest...i don't know."
"Ryu is a adorable kid...so calm and quiet." He looked at the crib.
I followed his eyes and couldn't help but smile.
"He sure is amazing...Isabelle and Max were disastrous and so damn annoying."
"Hey it couldn't be that bad." He laughed.
"Oh you have no idea...they cried so much...i actually felt like throwing them out of the window or something." I groaned.
"Damn thats mean."
"But you seem to be good with kids." I change the topic.
Actually....He is the first child i ever had the privilege of holding." He say turning to look at me.
"No way...seriously!!?"
Wow he is good...
I mean me being the eldest sibling...i still found it a little problematic to deal with Ryu.
But he did it without even trying.
And the fact that Ryu trusts him.
After chatting for awhile we both drifted to sleep.
.
.
.
.
"Uhmm....Dark...uhhhh....help!"
I opened my eyes.
"Uhhh...."
Magnus!
I turned to him and he was shaking his head breathing heavily...while his forehead was beaded with sweat.
I did what i thought would help. |
2cdd525dd0014f99a35b08df2a5e1966 | ['72d340ca486c4c648cd4736f24131db1'] | Somehow, he found himself staring up at Simmons doing that thing with his lip, and he wanted to nibble that lip, too. But something in head said that would be a really bad idea, so instead he managed “That’s one hell of a wake up call.” Too familiar, it made Simmons nervous. It was something you‘d say in the morning to your lover. They weren't lovers. They _weren't_.
So instead, Wash got Simmons to talk about the others, the same status report he got earlier, but it anchored the ex-freelancer, got his mind out of this bed. Focused him, so he could focus on the fact that Simmons hadn’t know Wash had woke up earlier. Simmons left the room again. Wash pushed himself up in the bed. If Simmons didn’t know he was awake, thought he was still unconscious, then why come here? Did it matter? Maybe? No? Should it? It may not be black and white, but it sure was dark gray.
The humor wasn’t lost on him.
And Simmons was trying to leave. “I didn’t die.” It stopped Simmons, held him for a few more seconds. He needed more time, time to think, to figure it out. Damn pain meds.
There was too much about them he needed to figure out, and with what he had been told, something told him if he didn’t figure it out tonight, he may not get another chance any time soon. They may not get another chance any time soon.
He needed Simmons in this bed under him. Now.
He needed to not ignore the thinking for the physical.
But damn, thinking was really hard. And he really, really wanted more of the physical.
He grabbed Simmons when the red head went past to get to his helmet. “Why are you here?” he asked, and Simmons froze. And it suddenly mattered.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> For those watching this, I'm sorry it took so long. I had a horrible time figuring out where to end it.
4. Why Are You Here?
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> For the first time since the first time, Wash and Simmons do something smart. They talk.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Once again, I feel compelled to apologize for the ridiculously long wait between chapters. I finally just decided to give up on fitting this into four chapters, and am getting the talking out of the way. Next chapter will be 99% smut, promise.
Wash watched as Simmons tried to find an answer to the question. His mouth actually opened and closed several times before words came out. “Well, it’s just, you know, Grif was snoring again, and nobody could sleep, so I decided to come here. You know, because you were still unconscious, so it’d be quiet,” he managed to let tumble out, looking anywhere but at Wash. “But yeah, I’ve got to go let Dr. Grey know you’ve come around, so…” He tugged on his arm, but Wash refused to let go.
“So, you really hadn’t heard I came out of it…” Wash focused on the holographic display next to the bed. “…Three hours ago?”
“What?” Simmons squeaked, eyes going wide as his head snapped back down to finally look at him, mouth hanging open, that bright red blush appearing on his cheeks. “You w-w--were a-awake the who-” Wash tugged on his arm, and Simmons’ mouth snapped shut.
“Pretty much,” Wash said. “I don’t get it. You really didn’t expect me to know you…”
Simmons’ blush was gone, replaced with a sickly paleness. He just shook his head. “I didn’t… I mean, I wasn’t going to… It wasn’t supposed to happen like that… Er, at all. It wasn’t supposed to happen at all. I just…” Simmons gulped hard. “I wasn’t here for that at all, I swear.” He looked down at Wash, his expression hopeless and confused. “I’m s-sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Wash said. “I could have stopped you if I wanted to.” He tugged again on Simmons’ hand. “Sit the fuck down. I’m getting a crick in my neck.” Simmons obeyed, dropping down onto the edge of the bed. “Now, why are you here? The real reason.”
The Red stared at a spot on the sheet. “Because-” Simmons began after a few seconds, then stopped. “Because I needed to be sure you were okay.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re exactly what I’ve always wanted.” The words came out in a rush, running over themselves. “I mean, in a leader. And I don’t just mean…” Simmons blushed. “I mean, Sarge is okay, but I’m pretty sure he’s going to get us killed not thinking everything through.” He finally met Wash’s eyes. “I know you’re not going to hurt me. I know it’s weird, but I trust you?”
Now it was Wash’s turn to look away. “Don’t trust me. Please.” He said softly. “I nearly killed you.”
Simmons shook his head, thinking back to Valhalla. “That was a long time ago. You’ve really changed.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Wash said. He took a deep breath, not really wanting to say it, but Simmons deserved the truth. He deserved to know how deep he was already in, so he could get out while he could. “When you had my gun in your mouth,” Wash said, blue-gray eyes locking onto green. “I almost pulled the trigger. I wanted to pull the trigger.” He wanted to stop there, but this was too important. “I knew you wouldn’t try to stop me. And having that kind of control over you was the biggest turn-on I’ve ever experienced.” Wash could feel the red rising in his face, and he turned away again. “It was the same way in the jungle. I knew you wouldn’t stop me, couldn’t stop me from killing you if I didn’t want to. Someday,” he continued, his voice getting quieter, “I may really hurt you, or worse.” | 7956ce9f8dd04b00ba0941139f697475 | ['72d340ca486c4c648cd4736f24131db1'] | The red head apparently had been in a rush to leave Sarge and Dr. Grey, because the only armor he was wearing was what had been left on in the exam room. His torso and arms were covered in Kevlar, but no gauntlets and helmet were anywhere to be seen. His underarmor wasn’t even fully fastened, leaving an intriguing narrow V from his hairline to right between his shoulder blades.
The view really was breathtaking.
The little voice was back, telling Wash to turn right around and go back down that path he just came up, and forget this. This time, though, Wash ignored it completely. The predator in him smiled. Here was a perpetrator of his shattered control.
Time to claim some of that control back.
Quietly, the former freelancer removed both his helmet, gloves, and chestplate, and set them down by a tree near the path. Connecting the knife to his thigh, he walked quietly up behind Simmons, marveling a little the other man hadn’t heard him yet. Wash smiled, the fact Simmons was actually three inches taller than him finally connected in his head. Somehow, it made having him on his knees all the more satisfying.
Wash knew the moment Simmons finally realized he was there, the quick intake of breath as his mouth pressed against the base of his neck. Still, the taller man didn’t pull away, and Wash closed the inch between them, his hands coming up to rest on Simmons’ hips. The Red’s breath shuddered out of him as Wash let his lips lightly follow the vertebrae up, then, nuzzling the underarmor aside, running his lips up the other man’s neck to that spot right behind Simmons’ ear. The Red’s head fell back, and he moaned as his left hand came up to cup the back of Wash’s head. His right hand came back to Wash’s hip, trying to pull the blond closer.
Wash chuckled.“Miss me, soldier?” he asked, and his voice was once again that low, rough one that apparently only Dick Simmons could make happen.
“Yes, sir,” Simmons replied, his voice just as low, but quiet and shaky. The noise he made when Wash nibbled his earlobe had the Blue’s cock jerking, and he ground his codpiece against Simmons’ thighs and ass. More of those little noises happened as Simmons pushed back against him, and Wash‘s eyes narrowed. Unhooking the knife, he brought it up against Simmons’ neck, still with the underarmor between the blade and that pale skin.
“Did I tell you to move, soldier?” Wash asked condescendingly as Simmons went still in front of him.
“I… No, sir,” Simmons said.
Wash smiled, sliding his lips back down Simmons’ neck, so they were resting again at the base of his shoulders. “I didn‘t think so,“ the blonde said, continuing to grind against his ass for a moment more. Simmons’ hands dropped to his side as he somehow managed to both tense and relax at the same time. Wash let his right hand slide around Simmons’ hips to caress the tent at the Red’s groin. Wash smiled against his back. “Mmm, you missed me quite a bit, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir!” Simmons’ said through a groan. “I wouldn’t lie to you, sir.” His next groan was disappointed when Wash’s hand left him. And then they were eye to eye, so very little distance between their lips. Those green eyes looked dazed, glassy, and that flush was back, and this time, Wash could easily see the eight point star appear over the left eye.
Wash carefully dragged the blade up over Simmons’ chin and cheek. The tip came to rest at the top most point of the scar. He slowly traced that line down, Simmons’ eye closing as he gave another shuddering sigh. “Are your fingers still talented enough to get me out of this armor,” the blonde practically purred.
“Oh, yes,” Simmons replied, as the knife followed the second line of the scar down.
“Excuse me, soldier?” Wash asked, now on the third line.
“Sorry, sir. Yes, sir,” Simmons bit out as the knife crossed his eye, following the final line in the starburst scar.
“Better. Now, get my cock out, soldier. It needs attention.” Wash ordered. Simmons’ long, talented fingers complied, and Wash groaned with just the brush of the warm, rough fingertips on the head. “Oh, fuuuuck.” The codpiece hit the ground, and both hands wrapped around Wash’s cock.
It was the blonde’s turn to let his head fall back, giving Simmons a chance to examine Wash’s manhood. It must have been the angle before that hid just how big it was. Not quite a wide as a pop can, and definitely longer than his two fists together. The idea that he had deep throated that so easily last time had Simmons impressed with himself, and a little desperate to see if he could do it again.
“Like what you see, soldier?” Wash sneered, and Simmons realized he was panting a little bit. He looked back up as the knife slid under the neckline of his underarmor to rest against his pulse point, daring to meet Wash’s steel blue eyes. Saw the same thing there that he was feeling. There had never been any doubt who was behind him, whose lips were touching his neck, whose body pressed against his. It was so easy, sliding into this with him. So damned right to let Wash take control.
“Yes, sir,” Simmons said. “Permission to suck you off, sir?” He felt a little thrill shoot straight from the sting of the blade pressing against his neck straight to his own cock. |
7e06dd576943467c90395f28fe3c4fae | ['72e4389972924d37a2290d67e1ed3acb'] | Although it had only been the first official practice many people had already renounced their applications. Ushijima watched as they left the volleyball gym claiming that the level of intensity was too much to handle. He watched as the coach waited for them to leave before talking.
"Those guys went through all the trouble of getting into Shiratorizawa. To give up now is a waste on their part."
"They simply recognize that they are weak." Ushijima said.
"Often times even the people who make it through the first day won't be chosen to be on the court. only the strongest are allowed, only the strongest can win, only the strongest will be able to represent Shiratorizawa."
Ushijima nodded along to what the coach had to say as did everyone else left in the gym.
"There is practice tomorrow morning for everyone that isn't a first year. Any first years here who were able to keep up will report to tryouts. You are dismissed."
They went to pack their things after coach Washijou finished his speech. Ushijima overheard complaints from first years about the tryouts.
"are you serious, I thought this was all I has to do. I'm gonna be sore as fuck tomorrow!"
"I know right."
Ushijima grew irritated by their complaints. If they thought running a few laps was all it took to get into the club then they were sorely mistaken. He got up and began approaching them, but then he stopped.
"I know it sucks and all, but were you really expecting to get into the Shiratorizawa volleyball club just by running a few laps? It's the Shiratorizawa volleyball club for goodness sakes! Besides, if you were able to survive today then you've got a pretty good chance. Honestly, you guys are acting as if Naruto died or something." said the red head. He wore a smile on his face that seemed to be a bit too forced, as if he was trying not to show his irritation. The other two first years only shrugged and walked away.
Ushijima was about to approach him, but was stopped a second time when he was called over by the coach. He watched the boy leave the gym with the same first years he was with earlier and couldn't help but feel a familiar emptiness take over once again.
\------------------------------------------------------
The sound of volleyballs hitting the floor grew louder as more first years began to arrive at the gym. Half of them appeared nervous, while the other half looked and acted with confidence, the only thing they had in common was the same sense of tiredness from being up so early in the morning. They gathered into small groups and formed friendships with each other. They talked about their classes and their expectations for the tryouts. Ushijima just watched them from across the gym. He watched them as they interacted with one another with ease, as if it were the most simple thing in the world. His grip on the volleyball he was holding only grew stronger and tighter. He wanted to play volleyball, he wanted to get the tryouts over with so he could begin getting stronger, but at the same time he wanted to interact with the others.
"Alright everyone let's get started, we'll be splitting you guys up according to your positions after that we'll make you guys some teams and you'll get to play some practice matches, is that clear?" coach Washijou said.
As expected the first years got exited at the thought of being able to play. However, Ushijima didn't seem too pleased. The thought of being able to play was enticing, but having to play with strangers who were all competing for attention didn't.
Just as coach Washijou said they were all split into groups according to position. He discovered that the red haired boy was a middle blocker and watched him get along easily with the third years leading the group. Ushijima watched and their eyes found each other once again and the boy waved and Ushijima waved back.
\------------------------------------------------------
Ushijima was shocked to say the least. If this had been an actual game then his team would have lost. He was angry, but at the same time he was fascinated.
"You're Ushijima-kun right? I don't believe I've introduced myself though. It's nice to meet you my name is Tendou Satori." The boy, Tendou, stretched out his hand under the net and waited for Ushijima to do the same, and he did.
"How did you do that?" Ushijima asked
"Oh, you mean the block? well no offense but you're pretty easy to read." he responded. He was smiling, just as he was the first time Ushijima had seen him.
"hm" was all Ushijima could say in response.
"Well I guess I should be going, it was nice meeting you Ushijima-kun. Maybe we can practice some spikes and blocks together sometimes."
And with a final wave Tendou was gone. Ushijima felt elated for some reason, like he had accomplished something grand.
"Tendou Satori..." he said with a small smile "You are strong. The two of us will make this team stronger."
**Author's Note:**
> My writing isn't the best so if you made it this far thanks for reading. If you have any advice for me just go ahead and tell me. I'm sorry if this is bad but i've just really been wanting to write some Ushiten. (Also i hope it isn't too oc if it is just tell me pls, i'm alway down for some constructive criticism.)
>
> If it feels rushed it's b/c I ended it early due to not having a clear grasp on what the ending would be. (if anyone has advice on that pls tell me) | 2be21af67f224ccc9c4315360cd468e2 | ['72e4389972924d37a2290d67e1ed3acb'] | Tendou was surprised that he knew him. The two of them hadn't talked or interacted aside from the occasional wave and nod. He was pleased to say the least. "And you're Ushijima Wakatoshi, the future ace of the Shiratorizawa volleyball team."
"Are you mocking me?"
Ushijima's eyebrows furrowed as he watched Tendou take a seat next to him and take out his own lunch.
"No, actually I came here to ask you if you wanted to come to mine and Eita's dorm to watch some anime. So what do you say."
Tendou looked up from his lunch and examined Ushijima's face. He looked surprised, his eyes widening slightly before returning to the way they were before. For a moment he looked nervous and then that nervousness was replaced with skepticism, as if he thought Tendou was pulling a prank on him.
"I don't know much about anime."
"That's fine. There was a time when I didn't know what it was either, and if you don't like it we could always just watch some movies or maybe some documentaries. Whatever you want to do."
"Is it really okay? Won't it be a bother for your roommate?"
"Don't worry about it Miracle boy. Besides, Eita has cram school today so he won't be back until late."
"Miracle boy?" Ushijima looked confused again. He tilted his head again and Tendou couldn't help but feel embarrassed that he had called Ushijima that.
"It's a nick name, but if you don't like it I won't say it anymore."
"No, it's fine. Why Miracle boy?"
Ushijima looked genuinely interested. He had never been given a nickname before, and if he had then the person probably stopped calling him it because they thought he didn't like it. For some reason he thought he wouldn't like them, but he felt happy with what Tendou had called him.
"Cause' you know, you're a real miracle. The way you play volleyball is so amazing it's almost unreal, so I call you miracle boy...So is it okay if i call you that.?"
"yes."
"Okay cool!"
Ushijima continued on with his lunch but unlike usual it wasn't quiet and he wasn't alone. Tendou continued talking. He talked a lot and about a lot of things, things that Ushijima didn't understand or wasn't familiar with, but he listened. Normally people would be put off by his quietness, they thought he didn't listen or didn't want to be bothered, but he didn't mind. He wanted friends but he was never good at making any, people would try to get close to him, they would try and talk to him and he would listen but they all gave up eventually. He was happy that Tendou stayed with him and continued conversing with him, he felt as if he had an actual friend.
\---------------------------------------------
The walk back to the dorms consisted of Tendou going on about anime and how cool it was. He talked animatedly about the different types and the different characters and the plots. Ushijima didn't know much about anime, but he listened intently to what Tendou had to say and absorbed every bit of information.
He looked at Tendou's face and watched it twist into an expression of disgust and then watched as it morphed into one of pure joy as he chattered on. Ushijima recalled how he was once told that he had about as many expressions as a rock (more like a volleyball). Thinking about the comment now made him upset, but looking at Tendou made him happy. He smiled.
"Ushijima-kun did you just _smile_?"
"I'm not sure, did I?"
"The gods have blessed me today. First I manage to convince Ushijima-kun to watch anime with me and then he smiles!? What a wonderful time to be alive!"
Ushijima was confused. He stopped walking. Was a small smile really worth such a big reaction? He had never experienced such a thing, often times people couldn't tell the difference between his regular expression and an expression of happiness, but Tendou seemed to be able to pick out his emotions, he read Ushijima like an open book.
A few minutes had passed and Tendou grew worried by Ushijima's silance.
"Hey, Ushijima-kun what's wrong? Did I make you upset? I did, didn't I. I'm sorry sometimes I just don't know when to shut up, I-I'm sorry."
Tendou looked down, just when he thought it was going well he ruined it. He stopped and his grip on his bag began to tighten.
Ushijima stopped as well. He looked at Tendou and saw the expression of sadness take over his face. He didn't mean to, he wanted to be friends, but somehow he managed to mess it up.
"I'm sorry. It's just that I'm not used to people going through all the trouble to get to know me. I was... surprised when you talked to me and I, I was happy."
"Really?"
Tendou looked up, his eyes hopeful and sparkling with joy. "Does that mean you still want to watch anime with me, even though I upset you?"
"You didn't upset me, and yes I still want to watch."
Tendou was over joyed. He straightened immediately and began leading Ushijima to his dorm once again. "All right let's go! what are you waiting for Miracle boy? Follow me!"
And Ushijima did.
\---------------------------------------------
"So... did you like it? If you're confused I can try and explain it to you."
Tendou looked at him nervously awaiting Ushijima's answer. He got up and took the Sailor Moon DvD out and cleaned it off. It had turned quiet and Ushijima's lack of response only made Tendou's uneasiness grow.
"Did she die? At the end she turned into an angel does that mean..."
Ushijima trailed off and turned his head to face Tendou.
"Huh, oh....yes?" Tendou watched as Ushijima's expression dampened and quickly added, "But she gets reborn, and so does everyone else. She and the others are fine." |
e399384da4ef4f3285b1890cccad4bf1 | ['7304d82a382a40c89abcb9b1cf1e2969'] | “...Are you being sarcastic, Jared? Because I have a hard time getting sarcasm sometimes so you’ll have to tell me.” Evan’s voice is quiet, and gets quieter as the sentence goes on, until the the last word is barely a squeak.
“Jeez, no, Ev. I’m not being sarcastic, I-I like this. It’s - it’s nice,” Jared says. And then he says, “...You’re cute.”
“O-oh, well-“
“No, I mean, like, reeeeeaaaallly cuuuuute, I mean like, just. Fuck.” He props himself up on his elbows and kisses Evan again, eyes shut tightly.
Evan pulls away for a second, straddling Jared on his knees. “Oh my God, you’re drunk, aren’t you?” He giggles.
“You too, you’re so fuckin’ red,” Jared retorts, and then he’s giggling too, and then they’re laughing together and then they’re kissing, kissing, kissing.
And then Evan realizes they’re both hard.
And then, it’s fine, because he’s too tipsy to panic about it, and instead he moves his left hand down towards Jared’s crotch.
“Can I-“ Evan starts, but Jared’s already nodding his head ‘yes’ before Evan can get the rest of the sentence out, so Evan begins to palm Jared through his stupid cargo shorts.
Jared moans, embarrassingly loud, and bucks up into Evan’s touch while keeping their lips connected. He wraps both arms around Evan’s neck, hands in his hair, and pulls him impossibly closer, kissing him deep and slow.
The playlist has gone from boppy and upbeat music into the slower jams at this point, and they’ve gone from sweet kissing into something more, into something dirtier.
The song playing is “I Want To Know What Love Is”, and Jared is moving to unbutton his shorts, then pulling them down, then his boxers. Evan is kissing his jaw, his neck, and then pulling Jared’s shirt down by the neckline to kiss him lower down.
The shirt rips.
“Well, shit.” Jared deadpans, and Evan gasps and looks like he’s going to apologize again, so Jared rips it the rest of the way off and they both laugh, foreheads pressed together.
Evan takes advantage of the shirt situation (shirt-tuation?) and lets his free hand roam over Jared’s chest, eventually settling at a nipple, rubbing it in small circles.
Jared likes that.
A lot.
Like, a LOT, a lot.
So he moans again, taking off his glasses, tossing them off to the side somewhere.
And Evan can’t help but stare, because although he guesses he knew about Jared’s heterochromia, he’s never seen it up so close.
So very, very, close.
One of Jared’s eyes is a hazel-brown, and the other a bright green-blue. They’re both, at least to Evan, very pretty in their own little ways. Both of Evan’s eyes are just blue, and while everyone seems to say blue eyes are the prettiest, Evan has never really thought so.
“Hello? Anyone there?” Jared smirks.
“What?”
“You spaced out on me. You feeling okay? ‘Cuz if you’re going to throw up, you need to get-“
“N-no!” Evan interrupts. “I’m good. I was just thinking about your eyes and stuff.”
“And what about them?”
“They’re really pretty.”
“Oh.” Jared blushes. It’s funny, because Evan’s hand is literally touching his dick, and a comment about his eyes is what’s making him blush.
And he decides he must retaliate.
Thus, he slips his hands under Evan’s clothes and runs them up his back, earning a soft gasp. Excited at the noise, Jared moves his hands under the layers from Evan’s back to his chest, then takes a hand out from under the clothes and reaches for the zipper of Evan’s hoodie. Evan immediately understands and helps him get it entirely off. Then, there’s the button-up underneath, and that’s a whole other problem in-of-itself. Evan gets up on his knees, and starts fumbling with the buttons, starting at the bottom and going up.
“Here’s a tip,” Jared says from the carpeted floor. “Just undo the top two buttons, and then you can just slip off the whole thing like a t-shirt.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Evan takes the advice and pulls the shirt off over his head. He’s hairier than Jared initially would have expected, and it’s actually turning him on a good deal. Which brings him back to the subject at hand: his hard-on. Evan goes back to making it the literal subject at hand, stroking more intently than before, drawing a whine out of Jared’s throat.
“Fu-uck, Ev, fuck,” he moans, writhing up in pleasure. “We need to, - uhn, need to get to my room, or I’m going to come on the nice shag carpeting.”
Evan smiles, probably pleased with himself. “O-okay, Jared. Hold on. Hold on.”
And then he’s getting up, and then he’s bending down and scooping Jared up.
“What are you doing?” Jared giggles.
“Being a good family friend, Jare,” Evan replies, carrying Jared bridal-style up the stairs to his room.
The song has long changed into another, but whatever’s playing now is irrelevant, because they’ve left the speakers in the living room behind.
Jared’s room is quiet and small, but very cozy, with all sorts of souvenirs and the like covering every surface besides the bed, and posters and camp photographs on almost every inch of the walls. It’s gone to waste, Evan doesn’t have much time to look at it. His entire line of vision is being taken up by the boy being pressed down into the bed underneath him. Jared huffs, staring up into Evan and into his bright blue eyes. Evan pecks Jared’s mouth, then moves down to his chin, then to his Adam’s apple.
Then down to his neck, and the space between his neck and shoulder.
Then down to his chest, where he stops for a moment to run his tongue over a nipple, which makes Jared’s breath hitch.
Then down to his stomach, which Jared says tickles. | 8945d8a673894bb7aa42359bb6225238 | ['7304d82a382a40c89abcb9b1cf1e2969'] | Then, skipping over his crotch area, down to his soft, thick thighs. Jared keens at this, as Evan sucks hickeys into his inner thigh. He leaves a particularly significant mark right below Jared’s cock, which twitches, begging to be touched.
“Ev, please,” Jared whines.
Evan tilts his head “Please what?”
He’s obviously teasing.
Jared’s a little frustrated at this, but also desperate, so he gives up the sliver of pride he has left.
“Please, just- just touch me, Evan, please,”
“I am touching you,” he says, smoothing his hands over Jared’s thighs. His face is absolutely smug, there’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing.
“Gah, y-you know what I mean, touch my—” He can’t finish the sentence. He’s too embarrassed.
“Your cock?” Evan asks, faux-innocence practically dripping from his mouth. Jared has no idea where this side of Evan has come from, wonders if drinking can even do this kind of thing to a person. Regardless, it’s driving him fucking insane, he wants it so bad.
“Please, yes,” he’s begging at this point. Jared’s carefully-curated layers of indifference and superiority have been peeled back along with his clothes, and underneath is nothing but a needy, clingy, boy full of raging hormones and liquor.
Finally, finally, finally, Evan mercifully gives Jared a soft stroke, then traces the vein on the underside with a fingertip gently. Then, without warning, he closes a fist around Jared’s girth and strokes fast, causing a few drops of pre-come to dribble out, and Jared bites his lip, letting his head roll back. With each pump, a tiny noise escapes his mouth, egging Evan on.
“Hey, Jared, can I try something?”
“God, yes,” Jared breathes.
Evan leans down and slowly licks a stripe up Jared’s length.
“Fuck,” Jared breathes. “You ever done this before?”
Evan shakes his head no.
“Oh, man. Just. No teeth and it’ll be fine.”
Evan moves back down and presses a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to the tip, then opens wider and takes in an inch or so. He sucks a little, and Jared involuntarily bucks up, forcing more cock into Evan’s mouth. Evan gags for a second, but then stops, and goes in deeper than before.
“Fu-uck, Ev. There’s no way you haven’t done this before.”
At this, Evan pulls off, much to Jared’s dismay.
“No, really, I swear I haven’t,” He says. He raises his right hand, holding up three fingers. “I boy-scout swear on it.”
“Oh my God, Evan,” Jared giggles. “You’re so cute.” He says ‘cute’ like this isn’t the guy that seconds ago, had a dick in his mouth. “And handsome. And sweet. And funny, and smart, and hot, and— gah!”
Evan cuts him off by going back to what he was doing, swirling the tip with his tongue.
“How. How do you know how to do all this shit?” Jared groans through gritted teeth, back arching off the bed.
Evan pulls off again. “You’re not the only one who watches porn, Jared. Now stop talking.”
And then he goes goes down on Jared as far as he can fit, which is surprisingly a lot for the first time. Then, he hollows out his cheeks and sucks, making Jared squirm and moan. Evan pushes himself, dedicating his mouth to Jared. He pushes himself to take more and more cock with each bob, until it hits the back of his throat and he’s gagging, eyes watering. He pushes himself through it, makes himself swallow around the whole thing.
While the sight alone is making Jared feel dizzy with pleasure, the sensation of it is what really draws out a loud whine as he feels a warm knot form in his stomach. Evan swallows again, and looks up at Jared through his eyelashes, and Jared tugs at the blond’s hair. The resulting moan vibrates around Jared’s cock, and he knows he won’t last much longer.
“Fuck, Ev, I’m close,” he pants, trying his hardest not to buck up. “I’m gonna come-“
And then, for a moment, Evan breaks the ‘no teeth’ rule. He lightly scrapes Jared’s cock with his top teeth, and that’s when Jared loses it entirely. He comes hard, back arching at an almost-uncomfortable angle, down Evan’s throat. Having pretty much no choice at this point, Evan swallows, then makes a face at the salty aftertaste.
“Sorry,” Jared says, still reeling from the orgasm. It may be the first time Evan’s heard him sound genuine in an apology.
“S’okay,” Evan says quietly, pressing another kiss into Jared’s thigh.
After a few moments of deep breathing, Jared sits up and says, “Alright, my turn.”
“You don’t have to, I’m already... you know. I could just- just do it myself,” Evan stammers, wanting but polite.
“I want to, though,” Jared says, moving out from under Evan. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”
“Really?”
Jared nods.
“Okay, then, your turn.” Evan lies down on his back, and lets Jared position himself on top. Jared kisses him once on the mouth, and then immediately gets to work unbuttoning and pulling down Evan’s pants. Evan kicks them off the rest of the way. The second they’re off, he slides down and mouths at the tented boxers, sucking at him through his underwear and leaving a wet mark. Evan whimpers quietly, threading a hand through Jared’s short hair. His head tilts back for a second, but he quickly looks back down at Jared as the shorter boy finally pulls down Evan’s underwear.
Jared makes a low whistle as Evan’s cock springs up. Evan covers his face in embarrassment.
“Je-esus Christ, Ev. You never told me you were fuckin’ hung,”
“Uh. Never came up, I guess?”
“I’m completely serious, Ev,” Jared says. “I don’t know if I can actually fit all that in my mouth.”
“You can try...?”
“Good point. Very encouraging.” |
ce64e081354a42fcb7d4ab70434074c1 | ['730742561b4146848dad22829e132fe9'] | "So... luv, what happened while you were kidnapped?"
"Well... I don't remember that much…"
"He raped ya…" said Geoffrey: he hoped this could help her remember. And it did, but not in the way he expected.
"No, he actually didn't. Now that I think about it, the photos he'd given you were photo-shopped." Geoffrey sighed in relief.
"This, however, was true." she pulled over and took some fake hair off her lower legs. "I was brutally cut by a razor. He then told me he was going to throw it in the sea so he could trick you into thinking I was dead."
"Yeah... he really wanted t' see me break down..." Geoffrey wanted to forget the experience, so he wanted the conversation to be quick. "Anyway, then?"
"When you turned yourself in, you were put in the warehouse…"
"Yeah, I know that." He didn’t really take pride in that moment: he knew he was able to get out thanks to the teen: by himself, he probably would’ve slowly died.
“...while I was in the building where you then found the doors sealed. He treated me like a goddess while you were being tortured. It is here that I tried to find you. Yet I didn't know you were just a few yards away. He would always tell his men to bring me for great walks around the city. However, when he was tired... he put me in the trunk and drove me to his apartment where, when he learned you had freed yourself, started the hostage situation. He said he had had "enough footage."" continued Hershey.
"Footage!?" asked Geoffrey surprised. "About what!?"
"Your tortures: they've been uploaded on the dark web. By now it's probably impossible to totally delete the video. It's in hundreds, if not thousands of snuff films sites. You were recorded the whole time and, even when you stood still, he was taking great pleasure and uploaded the whole video. I've found it somewhere and gave it to the police just a few hours ago, when I got out of hospital. They're still viewing it, trying to find the executioners."
Geoffrey was once again shocked: "My privacy... that drongo violated it! Now the IRA will know what t' do!" He then thought a bit before asking: "And what about Marcello and the other bloke I'd killed?"
"Neither family reported it. They were fed up with them: they'd caused many problems to both families. Plus, you’re on the Police’s good side, so…" Hershey affirmed.
"I see... good t' know. And when did you compensate the women?"
"Can't tell ya." she said mimicking Geoffrey.
“Oh, ya...”
Suddenly, she heard Geoffrey’s chest growl. That reminded him he hadn’t eaten for days. “If your chest rumbles, then you really mustn’t have eaten for centuries!” noted Hershey.
Geoffrey jumped up, as if he’d just remembered something. “There’s a restaurant up ahead.” he said quickly. “I’ve read their food can make ya stuffed!” They stopped there and Geoffrey ate two portions of chicken: in that restaurant, eating just one almost makes you explode.
Outside, Geoffrey burped. “Much, much better!”
Finally, they arrived in Grado where Geoffrey found it.
"There's the car. Let's dispose of this and leave this shit behind."
"I bet it would be this one: you still can't resist big and brown teddy bears, can you?" joked Hershey. The bear was sitting in the passenger’s seat.
Geoffrey blushed a little and then clearly yawned: he hadn't slept in 48 hours and now he was starting to lose his lucidity.
"I'm driving, Geoffrey. But what road should we take?" she asked while showing a map.
"I don't like the German border crossing, so...go through France."
Normally, he would call it “Baguetteland” because, you know, French and British really don’t agree. But he was now looking at the world in a more respectful way.
"OK."
Just like that, they drove off, with Geoffrey taking a much deserved very long nap: it was the perfect reward. After a very long drive, they arrived in London.
Geoffrey, after sleeping the whole journey, was woken up and greeted by his fellow agents. They were glad to see him back.
Here, he was also informed about the developments of the case: the operation was successful and the teen was alive, ready to face a trial. In addition, his testimony was enough and probably the teen was going to be easily sentenced. He'd even rejected a lawyer. He didn't want to defend himself, they'd told him. Because of this, the trial was going to be very short and he probably wouldn't be needed again.
"I know what he wants t' do." said once Geoffrey with confidence. "He wants t' be sent t’ a psychological institute an' be discharged for incompetency." And indeed, that was what happened: he was sent to a psychological clinic for 10 years in order to rehabilitate.
But Geoffrey didn't care: he could now finally enjoy some freedom with Hershey before the next case. After over a week of suffering, he could now choose his own rhythm and keep going with life the way he wanted to, a different one from the one before the case.
Ready to tackle the next case in a new and better way. | 21439e42115f47ab90914b91b9dbc371 | ['730742561b4146848dad22829e132fe9'] | "Non abbia paura, signore." (“Don’t be afraid, sir.”) he said while showing his ID released by the police, identifying as agent Lorusso (totally made up).
Still no answer.
"Mi scusi, posso vederla in faccia?" (“Excuse me, can I see your face?”)
Silence. Geoffrey kept ignoring him. He was thinking about what to do.
"Va... bene…" (“...fine...”) he then slowly said. He turned around and showed himself. There was light and he noticed the policeman looking at his body. "Che ca…" (“The f…?”)
He was in absolute shock: he'd never seen barbed wire wrapped around a body. Only now had he noticed it on the white chest. There were also clear bruises and Geoffrey was still extremely dirty, despite the rain.
"Che... le è successo...?" (“What… happened to you…?”) asked the still shocked policeman.
"Niente... unngh... niente…" (“Nothing… nothing...”) answered Geoffrey slowly.
"Non dica stronzate, signore, per favore. Sono qui per aiutarla." (“Please don’t tell me bullshit, sir. I’m here to help you.”)
"Anche se... lo dico... cosa farebbe?" (“Even if… I told you… what would you do?”) asked an annoyed Geoffrey.
"La mando all'ospedale." (“I’ll bring you to the hospital.”) was the immediate answer.
"No... non serve... grazie." (“No… I don’t need to go there… thanks.”) said Geoffrey. He also started to walk away, limping. But the policeman didn't listen to him and called the ambulance anyway. He also followed the skunk, but Geoffrey noticed.
He turned around and looked at him angrily. "Go deal with burglars, god damnit! Leave me alone! I haven't done anything an' I don't need ya help!"
"Perché si ostina a non volere il nostro aiuto?" (“Why do you persist in not wanting our help?”) asked agent Lorusso, worried.
At this point, Geoffrey felt he was cornered: he was too suspicious and saying something else could put him in trouble. "Fine!" he sighed loudly. So, he just stood there before the ambulance arrived. When the doctor came to load him in the ambulance, though, he was also shocked: Geoffrey was basically in four colours, black, white, brown and red. He tried to put him on the stretcher, but he too was poked by the wire.
"Ahi. E ora come lo carico?" (“Ouch! How am I going to load him on the stretcher?”) he thought to himself. "Per favore, può mettersi sulla barella?" (“Could you please put yourself on the stretcher?”) he asked afterwards.
Geoffrey, despite hating that situation so much, had to agree and put himself on the stretcher before being rushed to the hospital. At the hospital, he was put to sleep in order to remove the wire without making him suffer. Soon after, he woke up, feeling finally free from the wire's clutches. He was still panting, though.
"I need... I need t’ get t’ Udine." he thought.
He then looked at his window and saw that he was on what looked like a tower near another tower on a hill. Between that and the sea, there was a big city: Trieste. He was in Cattinara, quite far from Grado. Diving out of the window was out of the picture: death was guaranteed. He must’ve been on the 10th floor. Even trying to glide to the ground was extremely dangerous, since Bora was now blowing even harder: after all, he was now in a city known for it, which effectively shapes how the people live.
"Shit, I need to get my stuff back!" he remembered.
He wanted to get out of the room, but before he could, some people wearing black clothes entered: they were Carabinieri, as it was showed on their IDs.
"Signore, ci serve la sua testimonianza." (“Sir, we need your testimony.”)
"Testimony?" asked Geoffrey surprised.
"Sì. Ci sono stati chiari segni di tortura sul suo corpo e abbiamo visto sul suo telefono che parlava con un certo numero: +39**********. Abbiamo dovuto formalizzare una denuncia per tortura, reato previsto all'art. 613-bis del Codice Penale, contro questo soggetto. Il soggetto in questione risulta irreperibile. Ci serve la sua testimonianza per rintracciarlo." (“Yes. There are clear signs of torture on your body and we have seen on your phone that you were talking with a certain phone number: +39…. We had to file a report for torture, as specified in paragraph 613-bis of the penal code, against this subject. We need your testimony in order to track him down.”)
"No worries, mates, I'll get 'im by myself. Let's try and avoid ya bureaucracy."
But they weren't happy with that answer. They understood perfectly English, but they couldn't speak it as well. Still, they tried.
"Do you want to do justice by yourself?"
"No, no, no, no. I didn't mean that!" answered Geoffrey annoyed. He then quickly made up an excuse. "What I meant, was that I don't wanna waste time with reports an' that kind of stuff. Ya know, things about Italy t’ avoid." He was avoiding Italian because it didn't come out as naturally as English, but they restarted speaking in Italian.
"Questa testimonianza non sarà ufficiale, ma sarà richiamata in tribunale quando servirà…" (“This testimony won’t be “official”, but you’ll be called to deposit your testimony when needed...”)
"Excuse me, agents, but look..." Geoffrey had enough. "I've already spent too much fucking time in this country an' I'm so close to solving the case, so…"
"Caso? Per chi lavora, scusi, i servizi segreti?" (“Case? Excuse me, who do you work for, the secret services?”)
Just like that, his cover was blown. In a matter of seconds.
"...yeah... I do." He said with a bit of embarrassment. He then showed his official British-government released ID for spies. However, that made the situation much better.
"Ci scusiamo per l'intralcio, agente... 020...? Però siamo costretti a fare denuncia. Se non lo farà lei, lo facciamo noi…" (“We’re sorry for getting in your way, agent… 020…? But we have to file a report. If you don’t do that, we’ll do it...”) said the police officers. |
21e1b1e522cb4daeae5578a509ff8f04 | ['732b2c0d888748f1a78b8f13efab394f'] | Yuu dropped the pile of blankets on their small dining room table and then directed his gaze steadfastly away from Mika. Said blond immediately drew closer to Yuu, crowding into his space and ensuring that stubborn Yuu-chan had no way to escape. Mika grinned as brightly as he could, the thousand watt smile that usually had others fawning over him. It never truly worked on Yuu, and maybe that was why he was so drawn to the other orphan. Yuu had an uncanny way of seeing through his cheerful facade, even if he never said anything about it.
“What do you want, Mika?” he asked gruffly.
Lifting a hand, Mika brushed his fingertips against the bruise under Yuu’s eye. The other boy flinched but otherwise made no move. He scowled at Mika, crossing his arms and hunching his shoulders.
“Yuu-chan…you’re such an idiot sometimes,” he sighed with exasperation. It wasn’t a lie. Over the weeks they’d spent together, Mika had learned that his best friend was impulsive, irritable, and irrational. He’d also learned that Yuu had the kindest and purest heart of anyone he’d ever met. Though he put on a smile for the outside world, Mika knew that it was broken, corrupted, and few people actually thought of anything beyond themselves. Even the other kids in Sanguinem thought only of themselves, always putting themselves over those weaker than them. It was a cruel world and despite Yuu’s upbringing and brusque demeanor, he had somehow maintained a kind heart.
He’s quickly pulled from his thoughts as Yuu pulls away from him. His eyes have shifted towards the pot simmering on their small stove. Leftovers that Akane was keeping warm for them. Yuu lifted the lid on the pot before huffing in irritation and replacing it.
“You should eat it, Mika. And I’m not an idiot, okay? I’m going to bed.”
Mika’s expression fell, the smile melting away in exchange for a momentary look of sadness. Yuu didn’t see it, already heading up the stairs to the loft, his back turned to Mika. The blond could only release a slow breath and glance over at the pot still on the stove.
After devouring the meager meal (all of it, since Yuu apparently wasn’t going to have any and after having his blood drank by Ferid, he knew he needed the additional nutrients), Mika quietly cleaned up. The blankets Yuu had secured earlier were already gone from the table, having been taken up to serve their purposes. Mika sighed and followed the path Yuu had taken earlier.
When he reached the loft landing, he was surprised to see a pair of eyes glinting brightly in the low candlelight. Yuu was still awake and clutching one of the blankets he’d brought home. The other orphans were already asleep, wrapped securely and warmly in the bedding that Mika had failed to attain and Yuu had found.
Determined to find out how Yuu had gotten the blankets along with his black eye, Mika crawled towards the other boy. Yuu lifted the blanket, offering a place at his side even as he looked away. The action brought a brief smile to Mika’s lips and he curled up next to Yuu, wrapping his arms around the other boy as Yuu silently protested. Eventually, Yuu gave in, dropping the blanket to cover them both and then wrapping his arms around Mika’s waist.
“Mika—” he began, only to be hushed by a finger against his lips.
“I still think you’re an idiot, Yuu-chan. You got hurt, just for some blankets. Why? How?” Mika asked, lowering the finger he’d pressed against Yuu’s mouth. He ignored the way the warmth had seeped through him in exchange for meeting Yuu’s impertinent gaze.
“‘Mnot an idiot, Mika. I told you that already. And why do you care how I got the blankets? You don’t tell me how you get the extra food.”
A slightly bitter smile curled Mika’s lips upward before he heaved another sigh. Someday, he’ll explain himself to Yuu, but not today.
“You’ll worry the others,” he said quietly, once more brushing a careful thumb over Yuu’s black eye. Under their single blanket, they were encased in a cocoon of warmth that Mika had not experienced since they’d been taking from the orphanage.
“Whatever,” Yuu rebutted, huffing a breath through his nose that made Mika’s bangs flutter. The movement made them both freeze, eyes meeting as their hand found each other and fingers entwined. A smile reappeared on Mika’s lips, but this time, it was a real, true smile. Yuu might be acting snotty, but Mika knew well it was a defense mechanism. Who among them wasn’t messed up in some way? Yuu had experienced as traumatic an experience as he had with his parents. Yet, Yuu had retained that spark of innocence and naivety that drew Mika toward him. Again, Mika couldn’t help but marvel at Yuu as he brought their brows together under their thin blanket.
“Yuu-chan…” he murmured fondly, squeezing Yuu’s hands. “Please tell me how you got hurt?”
The other boy’s immediate reaction was to roll his eyes and huff again. Mika knew that were it not for the other sleeping orphans, Yuu would pull away and make a commotion. But due to Yuu’s kind and caring heart, he didn’t move other than to scrunch his nose.
“The older boys. They’ve been running this fighting ring. Winners get supplies and stuff. I figured since I’m so strong, I could take some of them easy. And I won, so I got the blankets. Not like it’s a big deal.”
Yuu might say that, Mika thought, but he knew that it was a big deal. They were young, underfed, and not much of a match against the older kids. It was no surprise that Yuu had ended up with a blackened eye and a limp. Mika was surprised he got away with just that. Not to mention winning the prize of the blankets. Yuu must have been returning to the fighting ring for a while, throwing himself into danger time and time again, all for the sake of their family. Again, that warmth in Mika’s chest grew as something squeezed within him, tightening in a way that was steadily becoming more and more familiar. He squeezed Yuu’s hands once more, trying to fight back the threat of tears that tickled at the corners of his eyes.
“Idiot,” he whispered again, this time with a bright grin. Mika released Yuu’s hands to clutch the fabric of his white, livestock shirt. He felt the overwhelming desire to do something, but he wasn’t sure what.
“Yuu-chan is too kind. Thank you for fighting for our family.”
“I don’t have a family, and you’re an idiot,” Yuu replied abruptly, snorting and once more shifting his gaze away. He didn’t move away, though. Instead, he scooched closer and directed Mika onto his back so Yuu could find a comfortable place in the crook of the blond’s neck. Mika could feel the muscles in his cheeks protesting against the wide smile that had spread his lips. He was warm, comfortable, and with a non-protesting Yuu-chan in his arms. Even in the broken and corrupt world they lived in, Mika had managed to find a small bit of happiness with his family and his wonderful, stubborn, and caring best friend. | bedfc45e1f6a451fa8f9e62a3273183d | ['732b2c0d888748f1a78b8f13efab394f'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> LINK Hi! I've been thinking of this AU a lot and I'd love to see it written in your style! Mikayuu + Yuu is recaptured and returned to the vampire city as livestock.
>
> (set sometime before the battle in nagoya)
The part of him that isn’t busy struggling against the fucking bloodsuckers who’ve got him trussed up like livestock (he wants to rip out throats because of that) is busy trying not to vomit. Trying his best not to shudder, keep his mind focused because the memories threaten to crash back into him as he’s carried down the rough, dirt corridor that sometimes haunts his dreams. He knows all too well where he’s being taken, knows it better than the layout of JIDA and better than the streets of Shinjuku.
(Shinjuku, where he’d seen Mika. Alive. Will Mika be here too?)
Sanguinem will always be a form of hell for him. Even if he’d found his first family here, even if he’d learned how to love here, Sanguinem will always be that place where he was used as a blood bag and where his family was murdered. Being dragged back into it is surely worse than any nightmares he’d ever had before.
His breathing grows shallow. He can feel his heart racing, practically pounding in his throat as the vampires holding him cross the marble floor of the cathedral where a part of him had died. He can’t do this. He can’t go back. Struggling harder against his restraints, he does the only thing he can do: scream.
An elbow slams hard into one of his temples and Yuuichirou is blessed by encroaching darkness.
When he wakes, he finds himself tossed onto a plush carpeted floor. Still bound and in clothing so much like he’d worn four years ago. At the foot of a throne where sits the strangest of creatures. He knows her only by reference, having never actually seen her before. Of course, he’d never expected the Vampire Queen to be smaller than Shinoa and younger looking than a teenager. He glares swords, daggers, and katanas at her, wondering what the hell he’s doing here and not just tossed to the blood-letting hall. He’d even make a comment, but someone has tied a gag around him, making it nearly impossible to make a sound.
“Hm, finally…” The Vampire Queen’s voice is surprisingly melodious and he watches with narrowed eyes as she slides off her throne to kneel in front of his prone form. A single finger, with a pink-polished nail, tilts his chin up and he grunts at the awkward positioning. “It’s been a while, Yuuichirou. When you ran away from us, I worried. Losing one of my Seraphs was not something I relished, you know.”
He has no idea what the fuck she’s on about, but it’s not like he can expect filthy bloodsuckers to make any goddamn sense. Snorting around his gag, he does his best to growl in response. The attempt only seems to amuse her.
“Don’t worry, Yuu. This time, I’ll make sure you aren’t lost again. After all, someone here has been missing you dearly…”
Could it… Is she referring to….? As if in answer to his mental inquiries, a familiar voice echos down the room.
“You summoned me, Krul?”
_Mika_ … He’d know that voice anywhere. Still hears it in his dreams almost every night. It’s _Mika_ … His heart begins hammering in his chest again and he struggles to turn over, hoping to get a glimpse of his best friend. The movement seems to draw Mikaela’s attention because he hears a gasp and steps hurrying forward.
“Yuu-chan?! What— What are you doing here? Why are you—”
He could practically cry with relief. In fact, he can feel tears beginning to well up in his eyes, threatening to spill down his cheeks. He feels chilly hands work at the knots keeping his gag in place as Mika growls above him.
“I want an explanation, Krul.”
It’s strange to hear Mika’s voice sound so cold. He’d last heard it pleading him to run away, to escape and never look back. So tender and desperate. Now, Mika’s voice is like flint. What exactly is his relationship with the queen anyway? Could it be that she was the one that…
The thought stalls as the gag finally falls away and he can feel Mika now working at the rest of his bindings.
“I told you, Mikaela. And yet you didn’t believe me. Here is your family again, brought here on my orders. Don’t you want to thank your kind mother for her efforts?”
This bloodsucking bitch is crazy. He has no doubt of that. As soon as his hands are released, he snarls at her before turning to Mika. His best friend is now looking down at him, concern showing in those blue, blue eyes. They may have pupils like a cat’s, but they are still the gentle eyes he knows so well.
“Mika…” His voice is only a whisper. Feeling arms wrap around his waist, he leans in, able to give his best friend a hug after far too long. Everything else falls away until it’s nothing but him and Mikaela. How much has he yearned for this? How long has he wanted to feel this again? Mika is no longer warm like he used to be, but he’s still Mika. The Mika that means the _world_ to him.
“Let’s go, Mika. Let’s runaway. Escape. I want to save you,” he urges almost under his breath, well aware of how similar his words are to the ones spoken to him in the ruin of Shinjuku. Without Asuramaru, he doubts he’ll be able to put up much of a fight, especially not against the Vampire Queen, but they’ll figure out something… right? Mika’s always been really smart. They can come up with a plan! |
ea0b92449b6344328813a6a34197a01d | ['73396c9ff46a4e0dbf22d2cb6bbb1d4f'] | “There, there,” Summer said, reaching over Weiss’s shoulders to pat Ruby in a maternal gesture that was made pretty weird by the age of the bodies giving and receiving the affection. “Can you blame an old, decrepit woman for being glad that she’s back in the prime of her youth again?”
“Thanks, Mom,” Ruby muttered. “That makes me feel _so_ much better about being like this.”
“Back on track,” Weiss said. “Yang knew and she didn’t tell me? Come on, I thought we were friends! Of _course_ she should have told me about you two swapping each other’s bodies. Especially since you’re my girlfriend!” Weiss finished, pointing first to Summer and then, realizing her mistake, switching to Ruby.
“We both asked her to stay quiet,” Summer said, patting Weiss’s arm. “If we could figure out another way to change back, we didn’t want to have to bother you.”
“Wait, another way?” Weiss asked, picking up on the stray words. “You mean you know _how_? Why haven’t you already done so?”
Ruby coughed, a look of embarrassment on her face. It wasn’t often that Summer, or Summer’s body at least, looked embarrassed, and Weiss took a moment to appreciate the novelty of it. To her other side, she could hear Summer shuffling around a bit as well.
“You, um, well,” Ruby said, waving her hands as if they could communicate instead of her words, “when we got switched, there was _something_ that said…” she trailed off, opening and closing her mouth, silently trying out new words.
“One of us needs to have sex,” Summer admitted. Weiss was a _lot_ more used to hearing embarrassment in Ruby’s voice, and she turned back to her girl- to her girlfriend’s mother. “Not with each other, thankfully,” Summer added. “But with _someone_.”
Weiss slowly nodded. She could see where this was going. Taiyang had died a _long_ time ago, and Summer had apparently never even looked at another guy or girl since then. Weiss was sure she would have heard about it from Ruby if she had. And since they couldn’t ask Yang to have sex with one of them anymore than they wanted to have sex with each other, that left exactly one person in the circle of family and lovers to choose from.
“So, Weiss,” Ruby asked in a brittley cheery tone, “who is it going to be? You going to have sex with me, or my mom?”
Weiss swallowed, the meaning of that choice suddenly becoming _quite_ clear. She took a long step back, getting both Summer and Ruby in her field of view. The two Rose women looked at her, before looking at each other.
Weiss was suddenly sweating from more than just the heat. Her mind was racing, trying to assemble a list of all the variables and what they would mean.
“I mean,” Ruby said, looking kind of unhappy, “I _am_ your girlfriend. You shouldn’t be having sex with anyone but me.”
“Yes, _but_ ,” Summer chimed in, “I’m… how to put this? You and Weiss have sex a lot. No, don’t try to deny it,” Summer said, raising her voice over Weiss’s and Ruby’s twin denials. “I have eyes. And ears. And a _nose_. You two have sex a lot, and I _don’t_. My body isn’t exactly used to what you kids get up to.”
Weiss’s face went red, while Ruby’s face went pale. All of a sudden, Weiss felt a _pressing_ urge to go back home and hide underneath the pillows. Ruby could come if she wanted to.
“Is that what I’ve been feeling?” Ruby asked, hurriedly looking down at her body and obviously saying the first thing that came to mind. “I thought I was just feeling old, not, um…” Ruby slowly trailed off and looked at her mom, wincing. “Uh, sorry.”
“Uh huh,” Summer dryly replied. “At any rate, Weiss,” Summer said, turning to Weiss as the slender girl continued to examine her feet, “I think it makes sense if you and I have sex.”
“ _Mooom_ ,” Ruby whined, an expression on her face that would have fit her own body much better than Summer’s. “But Weiss is _my_ girlfriend.”
“And we’d be having sex in _your_ body,” Summer countered, “just like the two of you always do. It all makes sense, doesn’t it?”
Ruby looked like there was more she wanted to say, but she couldn’t think of _what_. Her hands moved in front of her like she was grappling with words, and her mouth formed the opening of sentences. Finally, she sighed heavily and hung her head in defeat.
“Yeah, I guess. Weiss!” She barked, lifting her head to fix Weiss with a sharp gaze. Weiss jumped a bit, pulled out of her own thoughts. “You better, um, you know,” she nodded towards Summer and her original body, “um, do things right. Got it?”
“Of course I will,” Weiss said. “I guess we’ll find out how many of your sweet spots are _you_ , and how many are your body’s, won’t we?”
“Sweet spots?” Summer asked curiously, before looking down at her borrowed body. “Like what? You know, my own breasts are pretty-“
“Gah, I’m not listening, I’m not listening, stop talking, Mom!” Ruby said, clasping her hands over her ears in a display that would have been somewhat childish in _her_ body, let alone Summer’s.
“It makes sense,” Weiss said, trying to keep the thoughts of figuring out how to make Summer moan in Summer’s body out of her head. “It just wouldn’t feel _right_ to have sex with, um, Summer,” Weiss waved at Ruby. | ee4758820f8942eea5c59a15d4367cc9 | ['73396c9ff46a4e0dbf22d2cb6bbb1d4f'] | I raised my eyebrows in surprise. _How did she know?_ My face must have betrayed me, as she laughed.
“How do I know they’re better? Well, Emma goes off like a slut when I pinch them, but you don’t. I wonder what will make you do that? Let’s find out.”
Her tentacles held my legs as far apart as they could go and her nasty futa dick slammed into me. I howled as she entered me, tearing me apart and filling me up. My clit felt inflamed and needy, begging for attention even as I fought to get Taylor off.
I grappled with the tentacles before letting go with a moan. The angle Taylor was fucking me with meant that with every thrust her dick brushed against my clit. The starburst of pleasure was amazing. It was like a cool fountain in a desert. I let go of the tentacles and shook. Not trying to escape, this time, but in pleasure. In feeling every nerve in my body tingle, in feeling warm flesh pressed against me, in feeling my sensitive parts being played with.
“No… stop it.” Even to me that sounded weak and unbelievable. Pleas for mercy had never stopped me before, and I didn’t think they would work any better with someone else.
Sure enough, Taylor just laughed and lightly slapped me in the face with a tentacle. I turned with the blow, robbing it of what little force it had. Liquid splashed on my cheek, warm and scented. I moved my hips trying to do-what? Escape, or feel more of the sensation?
Now that Taylor was between my thighs, the tentacles holding apart my legs had let go and were rubbing against my mouth and chest. The rounded head of one brushed against my lips, and I quickly shut my mouth, denying it entry. The other circled my breasts, the deep purple of it complementing my own black skin. The fluid was rubbed against my sensitive skin, making my breasts look shiny and oiled. My nipples were erect and aching, and when the tentacle brushed against them I gasped. A mistake, since the one hovering above my face seized its chance.
It plunged between my lips and into my mouth, making me filled from both ends. I was about to bite down on it, but then its pre-cum hit my tongue. My eyes fluttered in shock at the wonderful taste. I’d thought the scent had smelled good, but this left it in the dust. It was like all the foods I loved, and the thrill of a good workout, and a warm bath, and much more. I pressed my tongue against the head, trying to capture more of the flavor.
Taylor chuckled, and drew it out, leaving my mouth empty. I moaned from deep in my throat at the loss. She leaned forward, and ran her thumb along my lips. Her hips stopped slamming into mine, leaving her dick buried deep within me. I could feel cool wetness running down my thighs, and couldn’t say who it was from.
“Seems we’ve found your spot. Well, well, Shadow Stalker’s just a little cum slut, isn’t she?” She sounded far too pleased with herself.
I glared up at her, debating if agreeing would get me more, and if it would be worth the blow to my pride. Taylor looked hard at me, obviously trying to guess what I was thinking. As it turned out, she guessed wrong.
“Oh yes, Sophia. Emma told me all about your little extracurricular activities. She was telling me anything I asked for if it meant I’d stop. Heh, later she’d have told me everything if it meant I _didn’t_ stop. You’ll be the same, soon enough.”
“Like hell I’ll-“ She cut me off by shoving the tentacle back in. The taste of it almost made up for being interrupted like that.
Hebert started fucking me again, her cock pumping in and out of me, filling me to bursting, then leaving me empty with every stroke. Her last two tentacles unwrapped themselves from my arms, and started wandering over my body. I didn’t try to escape. Even if somehow I did get away, that would mean leaving this behind.
Taylor got into a rhythm. With every thrust, she filled my mouth, stretched my pussy, and squeezed my breasts. It was like an ocean wave with crests and troughs. With every peak, I got closer and closer to my own peak. And every time she pulled out, I felt horribly empty. But never for long. A pink haze was starting to work through my mind, the lust, and the smell, and the stimulation all working on my brain.
“Mmh! Mmh, mmh,” the tentacle popped out of my mouth- “ah, ah!!”
I thrashed around under Taylor in the throes of orgasm. My pussy spasmed, tightening around her while my eyes rolled upward as I explosively came. My legs shook, shaking like I was trying to run. I panted for breath, each breath sounding like a moan. Through it all, Taylor didn’t stop. Her cock and tentacles kept slamming into me. I whined, and she smirked down at me.
“What? You thought we’re done when _you_ get off? You’re mine, mine until I get tired of you.”
At that, she pulled out of me. Grabbing my hips with her hands, and the rest of my body with her tentacles, she flipped me over so I was face down on the bed. Taylor raised my hips up to meet hers as she climbed onto the bed. |
61fa2c4b73ed49abae948ace2cbb6d2a | ['7368a04c9f904163bf4b15e35c21755f'] |
**Author's Note:**
> because boombox is the best ship name i've ever heard, ever, maybe only above pharmercy
>
> god i love this fandom
1. **touching**
It took a few days after the two Junkers had arrived at the watchpoint that Lúcio even caught a glimpse of them, and that was only for a few seconds in the mess hall. A shock of blond hair, tinged with something black and gross looking, maybe ash, and a staggering slab of intimidation following shortly behind. It took a few more days after that for Lúcio to even remember their names. Garbagemouse. Trashrodent?
“Have you seen the new guys?” Hana asked in a hushed tone later, even though they were the only ones in her dorm. “Junkrat and Roadhog?”
Right. Those were the names. The weirdest codenames on the planet. “Nah, only for like, a second in the cafeteria. Why?”
Hana giggled. “They’re so funny! Roadhog just stands there looking all tough, and Junkrat sounds exactly like I thought Australians talked!” She puffed up her chest. “He says things like ‘Oi, matey!’ and ‘Gimme a tick, there!’”
“That’s the worst Australian accent I’ve ever heard,” Lúcio said, which earned him a smack in the shoulder.
Winston had been droning around for what seemed like forever. It wasn’t even a real meeting; it was just supposed to be a general forum for addressing minor stuff going on at the base. Half of the team hadn’t even shown up, even Hana deemed it “too lame”, leaving Lúcio awkwardly by himself in the corner, doodling on one of the tables. He guessed he could have sat next to Lena or even Dr. Ziegler, but they both seemed like the type to pay rapt attention and didn't want to seem rude adjacent to them.
“No, we cannot get faster data connections. We’re in the middle of a _cliff,”_ Winston sniffed, adjusting his glasses. “Anyone else have any complaints?” Lena raised her hand. “Other than ‘more alcohol.’ Yes, erm, Junkrat?”
Lúcio’s head snapped up, seeing a few rows behind him the new guy had his hand lazily in the air, tinged hair seemingly defying gravity, and holy crap, was he _shirtless?_ It was freezing in this small meeting room. “Yeah, I ‘ave a problem with that little man over there.” Junkrat pointed over at a very huffy Tobjorn. “He keeps moving my shite! Rude starker.”
“He keeps leaving his bombs everywhere!”
“Oi!” Junkrat started to sit up, but a gentle hand from his large friend stopped him. Roadpig? No, Roadhog. “Those aren’t just bombs! They are _delicate handcrafted masterpieces_ to you.”
“Oh please,” Tobjorn drew up to his full four foot nothing height. “My turrets show true craftsmanship! You should be dropping to your knee in awe of my superior handiwork!”
Junkrat spat. “Superior handiwork my arse.”
“Ooh, finally these things are gettin' good,” McCree said, rubbing his hands together as Fareeha snickered next to him.
“No, we are not having a brawl in the middle of such important work,” Winston said, putting a hand on Tobjorns shoulder before the smaller man lunged. “Meeting adjorned.”
Lúcio sighed with relief, not wanting to shadow Angela while she patched up after a huge fight, again, and began to strap on his skates to make a quick exit. Maybe he could spare some time to do a livestream with his fans, or train with Satya, or even-
“Oi, green man,” a voice cut through Lúcio’s thoughts.
Looking up, Lúcio saw Junkrat standing there, staring at him with wonder.
“The name’s Lúcio,” he said, trying to sound a less annoyed at the rude greeting than he really was. Lúcio, at heart, was a good guy with a polite demeanor, even if other people didn’t get the gist. “Pleased to meet you.” Looking behind Junkrat, he saw Roadhog as well, waiting patiently. “You too,” he said with a head nod towards the towering terror, and received a nod in return.
“Can I, can I touch yer hair?” Junkrat said, reaching out with grimy fingers. “It’s so cool lookin’.”
“What?” Lúcio smacked his hand away, drawing up to his full height. Granted, his full height was a full foot shorter than Junkrat, but at least the skates added an inch or two. “No, you can’t go around touching people’s hair! Not cool.”
Junkrat shrugged, looking innocent. “Just thought I’d ask. Sorry, mate.”
Lúcio rolled his eyes and watched Junkrat stalk off with his friend.
“White people,” he muttered.
1. **nicknames**
Lúcio didn’t mind being the second shortest hero in Overwatch, taller only than Tobjorn. It made him an ace on the battlefield, being able to weave in and out between allies and enemies, ducking underneath the terrifying tanks to slide right where he needed to be.
“Where the fuck did he come from?” low level Talon ages would cry out right before he blew them right off a street and into the traffic below.
“Lúcio, you saved me out of nowhere you bloody miracle!” Lena would gasp out just as Lúcio ducked under a low bridge to catch the time-traveler midair and out of accelerator juice. “You’re my main chap from now on.”
Lúcio usually just chuckled and blushed. He liked the praise, but he was just happy to help. However, there was one thing, that if somebody were to really push him on, he might admit bugs him a little bit. Maybe.
“How are you always this chill?” Hana asked over dinner after a particularly aggravating game of cat and mouse with some rookie terrorist threats. “You should go hang out with that robot monk guy.”
Mei joined them with her own meal, Zarya not far behind. “Yeah, you are chill. And I know _chill,”_ she said with a grand wink to many groans from everyone else.
“Hey, Zenyatta’s my man,” Lúcio said. “And sometimes you just gotta go with the rhythm.” | 9c9eed0773a54ecfbc60f5aba25c0de0 | ['7368a04c9f904163bf4b15e35c21755f'] |
Scraps Of Being
If your life flashes before your eyes before you die, then Sollux Captor’s memory is stuck on repeat. It’s that same scene, his mind cutting out, taking over, flashes of black and white, and then that one last flash of red. Tears mixing with blood, he could only feel a numb burn as he held her. He would have killed himself anyway, really. There was nothing left to live for, anyway. If there was one person that kept his disorder in check, it was Aradia Megido. Long tumbling hair and tilted smile that lingered for weeks, she was the arrow that struck hard and refused to be tugged out. Yes, he would have taken his life right after he took hers, an eye for an eye. But the court rooms and swarms of police had said differently. They wouldn’t give him the pleasure, they would do it themselves.
Electric chair.
On the day of the sentence, an onlooker could say that Sollux Captor may have looked happy, watching the judge bang his gavel with a determined expression. His lawyer, an old friend who’s blindness only enhanced her sense of justice, had balked, demanding a pardon based on mental instability, but Sollux has tugged her arm, shaking his head ever so slightly.
_when he finally reaches the chair, it’s cold, metal, hard_
“What are you doing?” she had hissed in his ear later that evening, whacking her cane against the dead man walking. “I could have won that case, you could have been let off on an easier sentence!”
“I know, TZ, I know.” Flashing a smile, he patted her shoulder one last time. “You’re the best lawyer anyone could ever have. But justice has called my name, and the only sentence I want to see is death.”
“You don’t have to do this.” Even with her odd, bright red sunglasses, Sollux could see the tears brimming her milky eyes. “She wouldn’t have wanted this for you.”
Sollux could only let out one last goodbye, before wrapping her in a hug, and following the guards to his overnight cell. He denied a last meal, his last rights, anything they offered. Only wanted a good night’s sleep, he told them.
_the straps are too tight, he decides. he deserves it, he realizes._
The bunkbed already had another occupier, who’s gangly body was so comically large his legs didn’t fit on the mattress. Sollux ascended to the top bunk, laying on his back and staring at the cracks on the ceiling. Like weaves, showing years of unrepairable damage, it reflected something that could never be fixed. The hard cushion underneath his back squeaked with every movement, a deafening echo that bounced across the walls and made him flinch.
_the wet sponge goes on Sollux’s head, to conduct electricity. to make it more painful. to make him suffer._
“Hey, motherfucker.” The voice was light, happy, recognizable. Sollux had heard the voice before, with countless interviews on the television, the sound clips blasting through his car radio on the way to work. Gamzee Makara. Murderer of several, mentally unstable, highly into recreational drugs. Sollux tensed, clutching the sides of the bed. Perfect, he had been stuck in a prison cell with the most famous murderer in America right now. “You’re friends with Karkat, yeah?”
Karkat. The name did belong to one of his best friends, the angriest redhead that he ever had the displeasure of rooming in college with. God, if KK saw him now. He’d never hear the end of it. Karkat would force him to live, to keep going, to keep breathing. Well, there are some things that even the mighty Karkat Vantas couldn’t make go his way.
_someone is reading something about his sentence, his case, why he’s dying. thanks for the reminder, he thinks._
“Yes.” The lisp that used to plague his tongue and make every day social interactions had disappeared when he first kissed Aradia. She fixed his curse, he always used to joke, and she would just laugh and mention how she missed it. The kiss itself was slow, planned, cautious, careful. She taught him to be spontaneous later. Maybe that was the beginning of his undoing. “What about him?”
“’Sup, man. I’ve been bros with that motherfucker since, fuck, before I can even fucking remember! How're ya doin’?” The man himself stood up, resting his head on the edge of Sollux’s bed. The shorter boy tried not to flinch away, he could smell the ripe stench of cigarette smoke on his breath. Gamzee’s skin was such a dark brown that it was hard to see the pale scars across his face, but it was still noticeable to anyone who looked at him directly. He had a lazy smile that spread across his face, his lids only half open.
“Well, not very good, seeing what’s happened in the past months.” Sollux was a sickly pale in contrast, with skinny arms and a spine that protruded out in a deathly and unattractive way. After a night of flames and heat, Aradia would lie in bed with him, running her long fingers down his spine and giggling softly. Her hair would spill across the pillows, leaving strands around the bed for days afterwards. He never minded.
_the man is finished speaking, he gives the signal to the executor. sollux inhales._
“Oh, your girlfriend.” In another time, the pale man would grow angry at such a dismissive comment, but he didn’t have anger running through his veins anymore. It had melted from his fingertips when the haze was over, when she was over. “Yeah, heard about that. I’m sorry, motherfucker. Really am.”
“Thanks.” Even if the anger was gone, the sarcasm wasn’t.
“You wanna know something?” He didn’t wait for a response, just sighing contentedly. “In my religion, which is Buddhism if you didn’t fucking know, we believe in something called reincarnation.”
“Yeah?” |
b7d9e62c153d4bb5b3a863b9f334fd14 | ['738ad1171fcf4ec8a81f08695587edd1'] | But how come you were standing here now? Standing where Jimin was supposed to stand? And sing? And the most important question now probably was – no. This couldn’t be true. Your soulmate, Jimin, swapped bodies with you while you were using the restroom. Highly embarrassed you began to crouch down and cover your face, hitting your face with the microphone in the process. Just what you needed. Your breath became ragged as you tried not to let the tears slip. You couldn’t do this while people saw him life on a stage. Hadn’t you embarrassed him enough already by missing his parts during the song?
You felt a hand being placed on your back as the platform came down again, you didn’t notice how the other two members slowly approached you as well, exchanging worried glances. As soon as the platform stopped moving you were ushered off the stage by the three members, you hadn’t noticed that the song had ended, how could you when you buried yourself in your self doubt? You were such a pathetic soulmate. How could fate think you were a good pair?
Shaking you followed the way people pointed at, everything seemed too loud at the moment, the loud cheering, the instructions being thrown your way and even the comforting words next to you were just too loud. You couldn’t even understand what was being said as you never learned Korean. You reached a room, probably the backstage room, and people urged you to sit down. And so you did.
Taking deep breaths you didn’t dare look at any faces that were looking down on your small form, slightly crouched over as you nervously started fiddling with some rings on your fingers. They weren’t yours. This body wasn’t yours. And you were afraid. So afraid. Finally, after taking one last deep breath you looked up, staring at multiple faces, Taehyung, Jungkook and Jin were the closest to you. You noticed Jin say something, his voice sounded soothing but his words fell to deaf ears. He could be speaking to a brick wall and get more of a reaction. Biting your lower lip you glanced at the other two faces, then back to the handsome man.
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t understand a word you were just saying.”
The reactions you got were mixed, but mostly you gained surprised looks. Where was Namjoon when you needed him most? Your eyes shot to Jungkook as he said something, a light chuckle accompanying his words. You stared at him, your mouth slightly agape.
“I’m sorry, I really don’t understand. I can’t speak Korean. I’m not...”, you hesitated, the members patiently waiting, some people of the staff leaving as there seemed nothing physically wrong with you.
“I’m not Jimin.” That’s it. You said it. And you hated your gut feeling, as it made you feel more uncomfortable than ever. Shouldn’t you be happy to be up so close to the members of BTS? Well, you probably would under different circumstances.
You noticed the three boys talking to each other in hushed voices, which was a little odd, as you wouldn’t be able to understand them anyway but you just shrugged it off. How long would this body swap last? Internally groaning you hoped that your actual body had their pants on by now.
“A-ah... who are you?”
You didn’t expect to be talked to so you jumped a little in surprise. Looking at Jungkook, who had asked the question, you slowly gave them your full name. You weren’t famous by any means. Another thing that bothered you. Couldn’t fate give Jimin someone that was on his level? You didn’t think that highly of yourself. You were a passing ‘okay', nothing more.
Awkward silence followed after you told them your real name, shifting uncomfortably you waited for something – anything to happen. But it never did.
Before you knew it you were back in your original body, looking into a mirror. You were still in the bathroom, impatient knocking could be heard on the other side of the door, the voice of your friend sounded concerned but annoyed at the same time. Suddenly overcome by a rush of emotions you stormed towards the door, unlocking it and hugging your friend as tightly as you could, your tear stained face wetting your friends shirt as you began sobbing. Perplexed by your sudden outburst your friend hesitantly patted your head, whispering little encouraging words.
You soon found yourself sitting on the floor in front of the bathroom, telling your friend what you had just witnessed. Your friend seemed joyous and excited for you, telling you how great it was that you finally found your soulmate. But you were left with doubts. Were you good enough or for your soulmate? The language barrier would be one of the biggest barriers, though, if this body swap was going to continue happening. | d9cc9be64955443298e5ceb3d19c6a51 | ['738ad1171fcf4ec8a81f08695587edd1'] |
Park Jimin x Reader - I'm So Afraid
You were born in a life in which soulmates existed, a person that fate expect you to be comfortable around. Most people fell in love with their soulmate, some were close friends. Some didn’t meet theirs, the reasons varied. Some simply couldn’t as for their soulmate has already died or fate didn’t assign them one. Some didn’t want to meet theirs, as they already found another person they felt happy being around. Some feared they weren’t good enough for their soulmate. And you? Well, if you could you’d definitely want to meet yours, but unlike your parents, who were bound by the red string of fate, you didn’t know what to look out for as for finding your soulmate. To bring out the pessimist – there was a possibility that you didn’t have matching half. It didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would, not knowing if you would ever meet that one other person. There were different, not so obvious types of soul binding, some shared a dream at a certain time, some felt something akin to an electric shock through their entire body the moment they touched for the first time. So there was never a way of telling if you were born a soulmate-less person or not.
“Hey, you still need to give me an answer, you know?”
You were forcefully ripped away from your train of thoughts as your friend looked up from their phone, directly staring at you. You blinked once. And twice. Then you realised that you totally forgot the actual presence of your best friend and their soulmate. But who could blame you? Usually you were the third wheel when your other friend didn’t have the time to come over so your focus wandered elsewhere.
“Right", you said, taking a quick glance at your friends soulmate and then looked at her again, before asking, “what was the question again?”
You were a little embarrassed that you missed her talking to you and your cheeks burned a little. With a sigh your friend locked their phone, placing it on their lap carefully as if it were their most priced possession.
“I asked if you wanted to go outside, you know? The thing with fresh oxygen and stuff”, your friend joked, laughing a little, earning an unimpressed look from you before bursting out laughing.
“Sure, I’m up to it. I’m just gonna use the bathroom first", you replied after you were able to catch your breath again, standing up in one quick motion, making your way to said destination. You did your thing but before you were able to stand up you found yourself blinded and, in fact, already standing. Confused you raised your hand to shield yourself from the bright light. Just as you were about to take in your surroundings something below you started to move and you felt yourself being lifted up, making you panic on the inside. Your heart sped up und you became nauseous, your senses suddenly aware of what was happening around you. Music filled your ears as well as soft singing, a language you didn’t recognize, except some English parts. There was also very loud screeching that bothered you on more than one level, lowering your hand you took in the sight in front of you. Masses of people stared at you. You felt your throat tighten, feeling as if you were to throw up any second now. Oh how you wished you were still in the bathroom by now.
Frantically you began looking to your left and right, noticing three, dare you say, really handsome men standing atop of a platform with you. And they look very familiar. And now that you listened to the music that was playing, you began to put the loose pieces together. For some reason you stood atop a stage next to V, Jungkook and Jin while the music of “The Truth Untold" played. Also, you felt very, very sick. Your eyebrows knitted together as you threw confused glances around, pinkish hair crossing your view as you moved your head.
You looked down your body. Well, what you thought was your body. Those were definitely not the clothes you put on this morning. And since when were you holding a microphone? Surprised your head shot up as you felt someone nudge you in the side, your head – wait, was this even your body? – whipped towards the person with blue hair standing to the right next to you. This was V, right? Oh goodness, this had to be some weird dream. Did you drink before going to sleep?
Noticing your puzzles look the blue haired idol pointed towards your microphone, mouthing something you didn’t understand. Was he trying to tell you something in Korean? Taking by how intently he was looking at your hand holding the microphone you assumed you had to use it. But what for? To sing? You chuckled nervously, shaking your head as you waved your hands in front of you, indicating that you were not going to do it. By now people must’ve noticed that something was off. And by the way V, or Taehyung, was not surprised to see some stranger on the stage it could only mean one thing. A phenomenon you simply refused to accept. Your soulmate indicator was not the swapping of bodies and you definitely weren’t the soulmate of an idol. Nope. Nada. There was no way. |
6f7f56eaff264aa79d3550431ff785e3 | ['73982dd744c34f79a7291e216a02410c'] | “How many more crates of this stuff do we have left?” Rex had to shout to Tora over the rain- it was getting steadily worse. Ugh. Well- maybe on the plus side, he wouldn’t absolutely stink when he got home from work today.
“Nearly done!” He called. “Just two to go, and then we can go home!” Two wasn’t ‘nearly done’ in Rex’s books, but if Tora was content to dream, he’d let him. He just needed to get through this, and he’d get paid and be able to go home.
Of course, it was that moment that everything went to hell. With no warning, shouting started at the entrance to the scrapyard. Rex tensed, slowly placing the items he had on the ground. This really didn’t sound good.
“Everyone, put your hands in the air! Fonsa Myma Police Department!” What? Who had called the police here? And why? Not really wanting to get shot, Rex raised his hands in the air. Next to him, Tora was shaking a little.
“Hey, Tora, you okay? I’m sure they’re not here for you. Or me.”
“What if we did something bad without knowing?” He asked. They both watched as the police started a sweep through the scrapyard, starting at the entrance and going through every lane of rubbish and tech systematically, pointing their guns at everyone they came across.
“Yeah, I don’t think so.” A few people were being arrested, a few others being led away, presumably for questioning- Rex still had no idea what was going on. A police officer appeared at the entrance of their lane, striding up and glancing down at Tora before meeting Rex’s gaze.
“Rex Adamis?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“You need to come with me, right now. I’m going to cuff you, but this is for your own safety, I assure you.”
Rex looked at the man for a moment. He seemed deadly serious. “Um...what?” He held both his hands out in front of him on seeing the glare of the man and was immediately cuffed. Tora squeaked in fright. A few times, Tora had mentioned that he would protect Rex if anything happened to him. So much for that.
“You’re not under arrest,” the officer said in a low voice. “But with this operation being as big as it is, you need to be safe in police custody for a bit. You-” he pointed at Tora- “Don’t mention this to anyone, or you will find yourself in serious trouble. Tell anyone where Mr Adamis is, and you could put his life in danger.”
Tora didn’t even have time to respond, and Rex could see him jumping up and down in distress as the officer led him away. “Do I get to know what’s going on here?”
“When you’re in the car,” he said. “We have some questions for you here as a worker who was privy to certain information about the clients of this scrapyard.” Here, his voice was slightly raised, and Rex honestly felt none the wiser. He didn’t know anything about who was doing what around here.
He was led to a police car and pushed into the back seat of it. The officer let himself into the front of the car, then twisted around in his seat to talk to Rex. “You’re the one who sent us information on Malos and the rest of Torna, yes?” He nodded. “Excellent. It’s thanks to you that we’re here today. Now- Torna aren’t the nicest of people, so you’re going to have to be in police custody for the next day or so, until we’re sure no one is after you.”
Rex didn’t know what to say there. What he should say was that Torna had already found him and knew everything about him and had threatened him, but he was pretty sure that would just put everyone in danger. He didn’t know if he should say it or not. He didn’t want to hurt Nia or his family or anyone he knew. So, he just nodded again, and hoped that it was the right decision to make.
The car ride was long and silent after that, driving through the rainy streets into a part of town Rex hadn’t visited much before. He wished his hands weren’t cuffed; he wanted to text Pyra, or Nia, maybe even Mòrag. She would have him out of here in seconds, no doubt about that. Though, actually, being Ardainian she might just get arrested for no reason. He’d heard that Urayans did that sometimes.
“Am I going to be in a cell?” He asked. He didn’t fancy sleeping in a cell for his ‘own protection’ when Torna already knew where he was.
“Probably. Think of it this way, kid- it won’t be the most comfortable night you’ve ever had, but it’s a small locked room with a security camera. No one will be able to hurt you in there.” That was a good point, although Rex still wasn’t convinced that Torna was going to hurt him at all. Jin could have killed him the other night, but he hadn’t.
At the police station, Rex found himself being dragged out of the police car even more roughly than he’d been shoved in there. It was a short walk into the station and then into a cell- just as he’d been promised, a small locked room painted stark white except for some rude graffiti on the wall. Lovely. “You’ll be here for twenty four hours, max, and then we’ll find someone to pick you up. Okay?”
“I have housemates,” he said. “I don’t know if anyone has a car, though. Students and all.” | 0dbc2833814a4a6c891779bac30183a1 | ['73982dd744c34f79a7291e216a02410c'] | As it turned out, a fairly good opportunity for ‘assessing public opinion’ cropped up only a week after Mòrag’s conversation with Niall. Jin and Malos, the two activists who were seemingly almost singlehandedly responsible for Tantal’s new marriage laws, had been caught on several tourists’ phones kissing in front of the Praetorium. Mòrag had never thought much of Amalthus, so seeing his horrified expression on a blurry phone video was really quite gratifying.
She shared it, and several laughs, with Brighid in private, but the whole time she was thinking about how other Ardainians were reacting. She was almost scared to check. Society had become a whole lot less religious even during her lifetime, but she was still concerned about the sway the Praetorium held here. This might even have turned people against same sex soulmates.
To her pleasant surprise, though, the tide of public opinion seemed fairly in favour of Jin and Malos, at least. The video of their kiss had blown up on the internet, and Mòrag’s trawlings through the comments on articles from Ardainian sources were largely positive, or at least just amused. People seemed to like it when other defied authority like the Praetor’s.
It was certainly an optimistic experience. Maybe not enough for them to justify pushing laws through already, but Mòrag was happy it had happened. She could see this turning out just fine soon enough. Maybe not quite yet, but soon. The tide hadn’t turned rapidly like it had in Tantal just yet, but it was going to get there one day. It gave Mòrag hope.
She was walking through one of the castle gardens with Brighid when Niall approached her to talk about it. Apparently he couldn’t wait for their weekly breakfast together- he looked almost uncharacteristically excited.
“You’ve seen the news, right?” He grinned. “I know I shouldn’t say this about the Praetor, but I found that video to be quite amusing.”
“They’ve certainly found a way to hit the headlines again,” Mòrag laughed. “It is funny, even if I’m sure he’s absolutely fuming about it. He hates bad press with a pattern and this makes him look rather like a terrible person.”
“Now may be a good time to speak to the council about some legislation to make things easier for people like you,” Niall mused. “After he’s been caught looking so angry in that video, it might help public opinion for him to be seen allied with a country who supports same sex rights.”
“That sounds like an idea,” Brighid said. “You should propose something, Mòrag. They can’t hurt you for a proposal like that at all. You don’t need to relate it to yourself personally; after all, it is current affairs.”
“I know,” Mòrag said with a smile. She wanted to propose something, and normally she was fairly eloquent in front of the council, out of necessity more than anything else, but she was still sort of apprehensive. This kind of thing was difficult.
“Brighid’s right,” Niall chimed in. “I’ll help, if you’d like. My support ought to go a long way towards getting this thing through the council. Although, you still might want to drum up some public support as well. Just in case someone shoots it down.”
“I’d rather wait on that,” she said. She didn't want to look like she was using her technically military position to rally political support for her own purposes. “I’d rather try and get it through on its own first, and then move for more if it turns out we need to.”
“Fair enough.” Niall seemed pleased with that, and so did Brighid. She hooked her arm through Mòrag’s, hesitating for just a moment before resting her head on Mòrag’s shoulder. Mòrag knew why was still a little hesitant- they were both so used to keeping this hidden from the world, it was strange to be able to show affection even around Niall.
“You’ll be fine, Mòrag,” she said. “Your position is as safe as any of the other people in the council.”
-
“I wish to veto Special Inquisitor Ladair’s proposal.” Of course that was the first thing spoken after she even introduced the idea.
“No,” Niall said, from his position next to Mòrag at the head of the table. “This is a forum for discussion, not endless proposals and vetos due to minor disagreements.”
“So the emperor would seek to undermine the authority of his council?”
“No. I would seek to implore my council to actually discuss the Special Inquisitor’s proposal before dismissing it.” Mòrag had no idea how Niall stayed so civil around these people. They were practically animals.
“It would be a disaster for continued foreign aid from Indol,” he said, seemingly resigning himself to actually discussing it. “Which, as I would hasten to remind Inquisitor Ladair, is vital for Mor Ardain’s continued prosperity.”
Mòrag couldn’t keep her mouth shut any longer. “The Praetor is currently in a position of public disgrace right now, Senator. I imagine that if we were to pass this reform, supporting us would be a boost to his popularity that he desperately needs right now,”
“I have to concur that the Special Inquisitor is correct in this statement,” a different Senator said. “However, I still do not agree with the proposal. Just because something will endear the Praetorium towards us temporarily does not mean it will hold true in the long term.”
“Well, Praetor Amalthus would look pretty awful if he withdrew his support for us after two months,” Mòrag snapped. Niall nudged her, and she gritted her teeth. As much as she disliked the business of council, it would not help her case to get angry at them again. “One day, the Praetorium will have to relax its attitudes, as social ideas move on. We pride ourselves on being the most advanced nation in the world technologically, so why should we let ourselves lag behind in other areas?” |
f7bf6d987b9640d68fdaaf52837ad992 | ['73eab34ab28c4b5ebcd167dbf1cd21dd'] | **Author's Note:**
> I don't proofread
Of all the things for Nai to want to do, it had to be haunted houses.
This was Nai's first Halloween, and he had begged and begged....and Gareki had cracked, the little bastard almost forcing him to say yes.
But..Nai had been overjoyed. That made Gareki's wounded pride ache a little less.
On the ship, everyone was stressed as different things.
Yogi in his stupid cat costume, but it wasn't the normal one. This one was just a onesie type deal.
Tskumo was a princess, and even Hirato went as a captain. It was fitting.
But Nai, adorable little Nai, (Gareki had long since accepted his fondness of the Niji) he had dressed as panda.
His costume entailed big, black and white ears, short and a short shirt that just barely covered his belly button.
Gareki hadn't dressed up, because according to Yogi, he was scary enough as it was.
Nai had other ideas.
On Halloween, Gareki stumbled out of the house with Nyanperowna, a panda, and a princess, while he himself was....
Well, he wasn't really sure what he was.
Nah had said he was a cat, but did cats have whiskers?
Sure, Gareki had the trademark tail and ears if, how was he supposed to be a cat without whiskers?
A man on the street next to that stupid haunted house fixed it for him, painting on a nose and three whiskers on each side, for free.
"Gareki! Gareki, can we go in here? Please?" Nai pulled his hand, shaking him out of his thoughts.
"What are you talking about?" Gareki asked, irritably pushing a strand of snowy hair out of Nai's face.
"The house, Gareki! Can we go in?"
It dawned on the older male at that particular moment, just why he had always hated Halloween.
*
*
Gareki, for one, hated being scared.
Nai, on the other hand, seemed to be thrilled by it.
Every time something would jump out, or an actor would scream, Nai will overflow with laughter and excitement, all the while dragging Gareki by the hand.
They went through a hospital and a graveyard, (that had made Nazi cry, and Gareki wasn't to happy with the man who laughed) and last but not least, they were going through a school.
Gareki hated school, and hadn't really been to school since he left Tskbame and Yotaka.
While he went, he was made fun of and pushed around by other students.
This school was hellish. There was fire and screaming children, but what really got Gareki were the kids who were sitting alone.
In this part, there was a small cafeteria, and in it were tables filled with kids.
All except one.
This child, who couldn't have been more the six or seven, was sitting a few tables away, with a knife and a crazed look.
All of the other children were dead in their seats.
On the wall, it read:
"YOU GOT WHAT YOU CAME FOR."
Gareki had basically fled the room, almost carrying Nai with him.
*
*
"Gareki?" Nai poked the dark haired males chin. Currently, they were lying on Gareki's bed, Nai's head resting on said boy's chest.
"Hm?" Gareki responded, irked at having his reading interrupted.
"Why did you run?" Gareki looked up, narrowing his eyes.
Now, Nai was an airhead. Why had he picked up on that?
"I didn't."
"When we were in the haunted house, you saw something that made you uncomfortable or scared, right? That's why Gareki ran?" Nai switched over briefly to his former speaking style, addressing Gareki in a sentence as if they weren't in a conversation.
"It was fine, Nai."
Nai was dumb, but only because of his lack of experience. He was observant and quick to learn.
How annoying.
"Whatever you say."
Really, of all the things he could've wanted to see, it just had to be a haunted houe? | c2cd15a4f12f4fb998ddf6d1d6dfd6c3 | ['73eab34ab28c4b5ebcd167dbf1cd21dd'] | **Author's Note:**
> I don't proofread. Sorry...
Sharp, blue orbs stared at the board ahead, drifting and sifting over and through information.
There were parts scattered all around his desk, his tinkering habits lingering with the impact of the omnipresent grease on his hands.
The parts click together, and as did his thoughts.
White hair blurred into his memories, and a sweet cheerful smile made his head spin with longing.
His hands moved quickly throughout the parts, piecing things together. His eyes glanced up every so often, listening to the presentation being offered. It was all basic mechanics. All things that he knew. Things he had perfected.
Another glimpse of what made him close his eyes.
Why was things coming up now, of all times? He was in class.
He couldn't afford heartsick right now. Or was it..homesick? The small, white haired boy became what he associated home and safety with. Nai was safe.
But the pangs seem relentless, pummeling him until his chest ached with the need for something, anything that resembled his beloved.
Finally, the lecture ended, and he was in his dorm in no time.
As soon as he got there, he reached out for the plush Niji in the corner of his bed.
It still smelled like Nai.
His heart throbbed, and he squeezed the animal, forcing down pain in favor of heavy breathing, labored breathing.
That's when he decided it was time to call.
***
They answered almost immediately, as if they had been expecting it.
"Gareki-kun!~" Yogi's voice irritatingly cheerful.
"Where is Nai?" He said, completely ignoring the greeting.
"He..he's right here, but-"
"Put him on."
He could hear Yogi sobbing quietly.
"Gareki-kun?" And the boy smiled, melting at the sound of the Niji's voice.
"Hello, Love." Gareki's racing heart was slowly calming, and the tears that threatened to fall were still boiling at the edges of his eyes.
"How have you been? We haven't talked in a few days." Nai replied to Gareki, his voice enthused and sweet.
Nai said a few days, but to the older boy, it felt like years. He'd been with Nai every waking moment for almost a year and a half, and the suddenly, he didn't seem at all.
It made Gareki'a chest feel empty, as well as his hands. Nai's palm was smaller, but perfect for holding.
A pang of something Gareki couldn't describe even if he tried struck is chest.
He chatted with Nai, trying to force this to last as long as he could. He needed to be able to focus. How was he going to work and study if Nai took up his thoughts?
He had used all his spare parts while tinkering because if he tinkered, he didn't think. Sometimes, Gareki really needed to stop thinking.
Tsubaki had always told him that.
'Stop thinking!' She'd say, 'You'll figure out my evil plan!'
"I miss you." Gareki was saying it before he had the chance to think.
He'd been feeling his way around his brain so much that his mouth decided it wanted to live its own life.
Nai was quiet on the other end, as if waiting for him to continue.
So he did.
"We were together for so long that now, because I don't see you every couple of minutes, it's like I can't breathe." He took a deep breath. This is so off base for him, so different than the Gareki everyone knew.
He was feeling first. He had always done that, but no one had ever thought about asking. Or even really payed any attention to why he did things.
All the things he's been doing as of late, were for Nai.
Staying up for days at time, studying so that he could get high marks on his exam.
He was there to learn, so he could protect Nai.
Putting in extra spar time so he could master different things.
He was there to learn, so he could fight for Nai.
Taking on extra jobs so he could pay for Nai's birthday present.
He was working, so he could keep Nai happy.
All these things, all these things he didn't have to do, but did anyway, because he wanted to be good for Nai.
So why couldn't he keep his thoughts straight?
"I fuckin love you." Gareki said softly, he voice holding no trace of sarcasm or defensiveness.
Nai shifted this time, Gareki heard it, and he felt it, and there was something completely innocent about what he said next, that gave Gareki chills.
"I always knew you did."
**Author's Note:**
> Tell me how I did? |
30becd20380e47c39633fc72ffff2397 | ['74123752bbcd4e2f910d68d3c2dba0e7'] | "I wanted to see if you wanted to grab some dinner before the next show." Kristin tried to tear her eyes away from the bare, damp skin, but when a drop of water fell from Eden's hair to trace over her collarbone and the slightest swell of breast before being absorbed by the towel, her breath hitched.
Eden could feel Kristin's eyes burning into her, and she shivered. "I--I've gotta get dressed." She darted into the bathroom, slamming the door.
Kristin took a deep breath once Eden was out of sight, and whispered, "God." She wasn't sure if it was a prayer or an exclamation, but for the sake of her conscience, she went with the former.
A minute later, the bathroom door opened and Eden emerged slowly. She saw Kristin and frowned slightly. "You're still here."
"Yeah... dinner?"
Shaking her head, Eden said firmly, "No. Thanks," she added quickly, her ingrained manners taking over. "I brought something with me."
Kristin crossed her arms. "Did you really, or are you avoiding me?" she asked, knowing that Eden was, in fact, avoiding her.
Eden pointed to the small cooler-style bag on her dressing table. "Meatloaf," she said simply, but her eyes skittered away every time Kristin tried to catch her gaze.
"So it's both, then. You brought dinner, and are avoiding me." She uncrossed her arms and stood. "Eden, please. I'm trying here. I want to be your friend."
"I'm not avoiding you," Eden said quietly. "I just don't think it's a good idea for us to get too close."
"So we can't even be friends?" Kristin asked helplessly. "I know I've done some pretty stupid things the last couple months, and I'm sorry for that. But I'm trying to get my life straightened out, and I just know I want you in it."
"Gimme a call when you're done your emotional reorganization," Eden suggested, her voice growing colder. "I've got way too much on my plate to deal with this right now." She heard a slight waver in her own voice and kicked herself mentally.
Nodding slowly, Kristin turned to leave. When her hand was on the doorknob, and she said softly, without turning back, "When we sat in that bar, giggling over you beating Michelle at the trivia, we were friends. Forgive me for wanting that back."
Suddenly, Eden realized she was being a complete bitch. Kristin wasn't asking her out on a date; she wanted a friend. Whatever the blonde had or didn't have with Idina didn't matter. "We're still friends," Eden said quietly. "Stay?"
***
"Hey, Federer," Kristin leaned through the open door. "Catch." She tossed a package of photos, secured with a rubber band, at the brunette.
Michelle caught the package and pulled the rubber band off. When she saw the first picture, she groaned appreciatively. "Oh, Chenoweth, these are classic. The Enquirer'd pay good money for some of 'em."
"Don't get any ideas." Kristin walked over to the couch to sit beside Michelle. "They get better, by the way. I got a lil' bit tipsy."
"Tipsy?" Michelle squeaked, flipping through rapidly. "Oh, my **God**." She looked from the photograph, to Kristin, and back to the picture. "Jeez, Kristin, how much did you drink?!"
Eden chose that moment to rap on the door. "Anybody home?" she called.
Blushing, Kristin grabbed the picture in Michelle's hand, as well as the last ten, and hid them behind her back. "Hey, Eden."
The brunette came into the room, took one look at Kristin's face and asked, "What's going on?"
Kristin mumbled something, and looked to Michelle for help.
Michelle shrugged. "We were just looking at some Halloween pictures. Show 'er, Kris."
Grinning, Eden nodded. "Yeah, lemme see. What were you, a princess? Wait, no, I've got it: a fairy."
"No..." Kristin shook her head. "Michelle's got most of the pictures, take a look."
Peering over Michelle's shoulder, Eden laughed. "A harem girl? Nice."
"Show her the **good** ones," Michelle said, elbowing Kristin.
"Screw off," Kristin muttered through gritted teeth.
Michelle's eyes widened. "Whoa, that was almost a curse word, Chenobreath. Watch it."
Glancing from Michelle to Kristin, Eden kicked Michelle's shin gently. "Leave 'er alone."
"Oh, come **on**." Michelle sighed, reaching around Kristin to try to grab the pictures. "Just show her a couple."
Kristin sighed, and blindly pushed the two last pictures away, then brought her hands back around to the front. "Here."
Eden was insanely curious about what the pictures could possibly contain now; Michelle had piqued her interest. She took them, and the one on top stopped her in her tracks. "Wow," she said softly.
MIchelle had to laugh at Eden's reaction. "I know, right? Who knew our girl had a wild side."
Eden's eyes were dark and unreadable when she glanced up at Kristin. "Were you really..." She trailed off.
"Topless?" Michelle provided. "Yep. I mean, y'can't see anything 'cause her damn hands are in the way, but that's Kristin without a shirt." She grinned wickedly.
Slowly, Eden turned through eight more pictures, all of Kristin - bared, but not completely - hamming it up for the camera. "Who--who took these?" she asked, trying to sound casual.
"I did," Kristin said, blushing. Unconsciously, one hand went behind her back, fiddling with the two remaining pictures. "With the timer on my camera."
"Oh." Eden wondered why she was relieved. "They're lovely."
Michelle suddenly noticed Kristin's nervous movements and her eyes brightened. "Whatcha hidin', Chenoweth?" she sing-songed.
Kristin's face turned red, a brighter hue than either woman had ever seen her turn before. "H-hiding?"
"Hiding. Behind your back." Michelle leapt off the couch, grabbed the picture before Kristin could react and brandished it like a trophy. "Got it!"
"Oh God, no!" Kristin exclaimed, reaching for the picture. | 9df2f6cc869e45f4b71ad63071894c4e | ['74123752bbcd4e2f910d68d3c2dba0e7'] | There was more antagonism in the first few minutes of "Wicked" that night than the script really called for, but it played out as loathing on sight between Elphaba and Glinda, and no one seemed to notice that same bubbling irritation flowing between Eden and Kristin.
Truth be told, Eden was more annoyed with herself than with Kristin. Perhaps she had goaded her friend just a little, if unintentionally. But during their argument, Eden had found it hard to concentrate on Kristin's words, her eyes lingering on the icy blue color of the blonde's flashing eyes.
Now, as they stood on opposite sides of the stage, glaring at each other, Kristin sniped at her in character, "Dearest, darlingest Momsie and Popsicle. There's been some confusion over rooming here at Shiz." Eden felt her face flush beneath the layers of green makeup, and she sang on autopilot.
"There's been some confusion, for you see my roommate is..." Kristin stared at Eden from across the stage, and the longer her eyes stayed on the brunette, the darker her gaze got.
"Unusually and exceedingly peculiar and altogether quite impossible to describe," the blonde finished, her eyes never leaving Eden, though she normally would turn away halfway through the line.
"...blonde," Eden shot back emphatically, shocked to realize that she knew that look in Kristin's eyes. It was desire. Kristin wanted her. She almost came in late for the next verse, she was so distracted.
As they moved about the stage, singing at each other, Eden felt her pulse racing more with every step. The kiss had proved to her that Kristin wanted her; she didn't doubt that. But the intensity in the blonde's eyes was beyond imagining. Eden was seized with the impulse to say 'Fuck it', drag Kristin to her dressing room at intermission and never emerge.
Marching up to Eden, Kristin barely suppressed the urge to press against the other woman. "Loathing," she spat, her eyes intense as they met Eden's. She glanced away. "Unadulterated loathing." Looking back, she allowed a small grin to slip through, a thrill shooting through her, making her skin crawl in anything but loathing, and she was sure that when she sat down on that bench right after the end of the song, she was going to soak right through Galinda's pretty white skirt.
Eden caught the grin, but she was pretty sure no one else did. It made shivers run up and down her spine, and she felt a throb between her legs. Through the rest of the play, she found herself struggling to remember lines, to keep her focus on the story at hand, instead of staring at Kristin in all her glittery greatness.
It wasn't until the beginning of "For Good" that Eden realized she was truly in trouble. Having performed in that role eight times a week for almost three weeks now, she knew what the audience was expecting; at the end of the song, she and "Glinda" had to hug goodbye.
She could handle touching Kristin's hand when they skipped off to the Emerald City. She had braved it when she had to protect Glinda from the Wizard's wrath. But hug her? Take the little blonde in her arms and pretend that all the searing heat of that kiss, and their fight, and the aftermath of blatant looks and silent innuendo hadn't actually occurred?
Eden didn't know if she was **that** great an actress.
At last the moment arrived, and, as per the script, Kristin half-threw herself into Eden's open arms, biting back her gasp as they pressed together through the multitude of layers they both wore. Her fingernails dug into Eden's back, and heat flushed her face and chest. Her head spun, and for the first time that day, Kristin was grateful for the layers and corset she wore, as her nipples hardened, and every shift of her shoulders caused the corset to rub against them, sending shocks through her body.
As soon as Kristin was in her arms, Eden's resolve crumbled. She ran her hands over the blonde's back, her eyes closed.
Kristin exhaled hard enough that the mike picked up the sound and broadcast it over the theater; luckily, it was an emotional scene, and just sounded like she was close to crying.
Eden's gasp was nearly silent, but her soft whimper when she had to let Kristin go was audible. Reluctantly, she went on with the scene. "Go, hide," she told Kristin. "No one must know you were here."
Shooting one last look that promised so much to Eden, Kristin ran to the edge of the stage, watching as the curtain was drawn across.
Behind the curtain, Eden melted into the stage, ducking down into the crawlspace and trying not to make any noise.
Eden got through the rest of the play without too much trouble. She tried to ignore the warmth from Kristin's little hand in hers when they took their bows, to no avail. As soon as she could, Eden made her escape, dashing down the hall before Kristin could call out to her. She slammed the dressing room door behind her, stripped and headed for the bathroom.
Shedding her dress as she went, Kristin had it half off by the time she got to her dressing room, and after closing the door, had it completely off in seconds. She showered in record time, missing half the glitter, and trembling all the while. As soon as she was toweled off and dressed, she grabbed her purse, going to Eden's dressing room. With manners bred into her, she knocked, then entered. Kristin heard the shower running immediately, and dropped her purse. The urge to go into the bathroom was nearly overwhelming, but she sat down on the couch instead, and waited.
Eden opened the bathroom door and shrieked. "Jesus, are you stalking me?"
"Waiting," Kristin said, shaking her head. "Not stalking." |
a2d621fa337d4ee79398507bc477ef62 | ['74458f2c12f24082ad42887262a90901'] |
Among Distant Ranks and Closed Fists
**Author's Note:**
> ROMANCE TROPES 2 - "A lover woos another for a friend, considering himself insufficient for the beloved's attention."
>
Iruka heard loud footsteps coming towards him from behind, quickly sliding to one side of the hallway to avoid a collision while simultaneously balancing the large stack of paperwork within his arms. For the past two weeks he was more clumsy than usual, rushing into walls and numerous (some amused, some unimpressed) comrades, randomly losing his train of thought while talking to colleagues and other disappointed acquaintances, finding a companion in the floors, doors, and windows he repeatedly slammed into.
He specifically scolded himself that morning that he would be careful, for the sake of his reputation, for the school. So far, so good.
"Iruka!" "Yo Iruka!" The voices called out to him simultaneously. Iruka blinked at the familiar faces of his comrades/on-and-off-again drinking buddies as they slowed to a stop right in front of him, panting like wild dogs as they tried to catch their breath.
"Kotetsu, Izumo," He regarded with a confused and a slightly concerned expression, 'Is something the matter?"
Izumo Kamizuki, first to recover, raised his head towards him, "We.. don't exactly know," Iruka quirked an eyebrow at him, "But we need your help."
Kotetsu continued in short pants, "The leader dismissed us for the day."
Ah. Iruka couldn't help but feel he might have had something to do with that as it did come up in one of his weekly conversation with the older man, "Isn't that good news? You've yet to go shopping for your new place and I remember somebody complaining about not having the appropriate time for themselves." He sent a pointed glance towards Kotetsu whose face turned slightly red, "Count it as a blessing."
"No! I mean, yes, but not just us. We're talking about the whole tower! He dismissed everyone on the floor, even the assistants, and when Shizune tried to get in to find out what was going on, there were anbu guards standing by the entrance refusing entry."
Alright. Quite odd and worrisome, thought Iruka. He quickly shifted his hands so not to go numb, securing the papers so they wouldn't fall, "And no one knows what's going on?"
"We're all as confused as you are. Some of us decided to go home, but there's a considerable amount of us waiting for a bomb to go off. We're losing our minds here!" proclaimed Izumo, somber-faced.
"And I can help?"
Izumo and Kotetsu passed a look to eachother, "The guard told her that while he didn't exactly know what was going on either - as the leader seemed quite secretive with his operations - no body should enter the premises unless he gives the okay to do so. Any further emergencies should be forwarded to one Gai-sensei in charge.”
“So that is why you two seem so out of breath, then.”
“You have no idea how far we had to run just to catch up with him!” wheezed Kotetsu, placing an arm over the side of Izumo’s shoulder for support. Iruka bit his lip to keep from laughing, “And even then, he had no idea what was going on either, but that he trusted his ol' friend to do right.”
“He also gave us a five-minute lecture about the importance of meditation and breathing exercises. Offered us to journey with him across the forest of death, on our palms.”
“And before we ran for our lives, he yelled,“You may want to notify your short lovely academic friend of this crisis! He may know something about this!"
“So here we are.”
A few dozen comrades had joined Kotetsu and Izumo from behind, staring at them from a distance. Iruka felt pressure boil in his stomach and not just because of their wile gazes, "But I really don't know what...Wait, why am I the lovely acade- okay," Iruka sighed quickly as his two friends gave him a pointed look.
“You both did seem close at ‘the wedding’” Izumo referenced, a little more softer so the audience behind them wouldn't hear. How long had they been there for and when did these two notice their apparence? “And now that I think about it, I haven’t seen him loitering around the school for a while… or you at the tower, either.”
Meaning, no material they can use for gossip, or question/tease him about in their next get together.
“Maybe you can visit him, and see if they let you in? Come on Iruka, the fate of the village rests in your hands!”
Iruka couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He expected this from Izumo, but Kotetsu too?
“Fine," He decided, not only for them though, "I’ll go. But I need to drop this off at my desk first.”
Kotetsu quickly grabbed the papers from him as another chuunin came up towards them and put an even bigger pile in Iruka’s hands, “We'll take care of everything. Please leave this on his desk.”
Iruka twitched as they saluted him, forcing him around and pushing him forward to walk away before he could get a word out, “Alright, alright - _and you two,_ take the rest of the day off right now and do some shopping.” Kotetsu and Izumo nodded, smiled and waved. Iruka sighed at his own fate and fled.
***
Just like Kotetsu and Izumo figured, the Anbu let him into the building with no problems. Iruka couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed by it and just a little fearful too. He walked into the Hokage chambers as soon as he was given the okay to do so and recognized immediately there was no one in the room. Depositing the paperwork alongside the other huge piles, he sighed.
“... Leader --- Kakashi?”
“Over here.” | 9cca368384334fa59b0c6a31ffa7c3c3 | ['74458f2c12f24082ad42887262a90901'] | “Well she did scold me a little bit, but you and me both know she is extremely smart. I don’t think my _little_ bodyguards would have spared her,” He grinned, toothfully, feeling the various evil death stares emitting from all over the place. Iruka looked around at the emptiness of their surroundings and nodded slowly.
“So I got the worst of it then.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I’ve been here for two hours listening to her yell and banter about where the actual location of my heart is and whether I care about anything other than myself.”
Iruka glared, “Well you certainly deserve that, I‘m sure that if I was dating you… and you repeatedly gave me the slip I’d be very unsettled.”
Kakashi went silent, almost shocked. He nodded abruptly with a sigh, “You’re right Iruka, I’m sorry.”
“Save that for her,” Iruka said, elbowing his side teasingly making him sway back and forth lightly, “Maybe you can salvage your relationship a little bit. Talk to her. I will even sacrifice my ticket for her, if need be.” He smiled at him reassuringly and continued, “Kakashi she really likes you, it’s the least you can do.”
“Fine...”
2. Chapter 2
Ikumi had accepted the apology and the ticket as well. Iruka had been slightly bummed at the notion, but the least thing he wanted to do was intrude on his friends affairs.
Yet somehow Kakashi had scorched another ticket from the hot springs which was quite surprising given how strict they were. He supposed it was the power of being regarded as one of the most notorious and powerful man to rock the nation. They left that Friday, with Tsunade agreeing to fill in(with some easy bribery of course) and with the addition of loyal friends Maito Gai and Sakura Haruno to make sure everything ran smoothly. There certainly were no qualms about leaving the village in such capable hands.
Until they got there of course which is when Iruka started feeling maybe a teensy bit of regret having to share a space with the two love birds, despite it being quite spacious (this wasn't what he paid for, Iruka thought mesmerized, but wouldn't dare question it.) Kakashi had been smiling at him secretly from the back as Ikumi had went to unpack a few things for the weekend. Their room was one big area with the living room being the widest, in addition to a big kotetsu and soft chairs. There were two separate rooms on either side, both with two incredibly comfortable futons pushed together (the owners had asked for their comfortable bed preferences beforehand) and intrinsic mantras painted over the room to ward away evil and promote wellness. Each room had separate balconies which gave an incredible view of the mountain and springs. Iruka melted into his futon and the softness and comfort had hit him so fast killing his distress almost entirely. He had fallen asleep immediately, until he was woken up for breakfast by the hostesses.
After their morning tea, they took a hike around the mountains to explore; Ikumi had taken out her phone, a slightly small wireless techno hand gadget, and subsequently took pictures of the lush sceneries, and of Kakashi and herself. Iruka had awkwardly settled further on the path, not wanting to disturb them, but also not wanting to deter himself from experiencing the same amazing climate.
On his journey to walk a bit ahead however, he accidently knocked into another person who was holding a large hiking bag. The man turned to regard him, and a slightly dazed Iruka hung his head in apology, “I wasn’t watching where I was going, my apologies.”
“Don’t worry about it, cutie,” Iruka blinked, looking at him widely like he grew another head. Cute? Him? Not with these wrinkles… “Though I’d recommend being a little more cautious around these parts. One wrong move and you’ll be cliff food.”
Iruka sweatdropped, and replied, “I’ll take that into consideration-”
“Iruka, come here so we can take pictures together!” Iruka blinked in surprise at the sound of his name and turned to see two pairs of eyes staring at him, quickly fumbling a goodbye to the stranger and jogging back to them. He felt Kakashi move to his side as Ikumi was currently on a steep hill trying to find good lighting,
“Be careful around here,” Kakashi warned, eying the stranger who turned his back and continued down the path slowly, “It’s better to stay close.”
Iruka nodded, “Of course.”
After their hike, they ate a small meal and after taking about an hour to recuperate, they went to separate gendered baths in preparation for the springs. Iruka found it strange that given their reputation there was only a few people in that space… and maybe they were just a little familiar, but he chose to ignore it when he felt Kakashi’s lingering and calloused fingers running over his back. With little convincing he had allowed the man to do so. It was weird as the only person he allowed to touch his scars was a curious and slightly ashamed Naruto, but he also trusted his dear friend wholeheartedly and knew he wouldn’t judge him for it. He had returned the back rub indefinitely; Kakashi loved how gentle his hands were and easily referenced so as he got lost in them. They were soft, beautiful hands. |
abce9f4d89d648fe9436c9294b0604be | ['748045f42d48460f9bc8e30789845271'] | Joel led Ellie over to the movie rooms. Whiteboards mounted next to each declared the title, rating, and leads of the movie to be shown inside. The door to the room for younger kids was closed, with a movie already underway. Tommy had said the children’s movies were supervised, and the other rooms only surveyed perfunctorily from time to time by one of the librarians. An indistinct blend of voices young and old drifted out from two other open doors. An old-fashioned red popcorn trolley stood against the wall. The table next to it offered a large cooler with a spigot for water, a stack of large plastic bowls, and a few little red and white striped boxy containers designed to resemble popcorn bags. Joel grabbed one of those, opened the glass door, and scooped out the fluffiest pieces he could find. He handed the container to Ellie and awaited the verdict. He’d never been a big fan of popcorn himself, but he found it sad that Ellie and lots of other kids -- even young adults –- had never even tasted it before.
She ate a piece tentatively. “Hmm. Weird,” she said as she shoved a handful in her mouth.
Joel sampled a piece from her ‘bag’. Not bad. He probably would have added more salt back in the day, maybe a little of that fake butter crap. He’d grown accustomed to plainer fare in the past couple decades. Ellie ate another handful. “Easy. Save some for the movie,” he advised with a chuckle.
Joel wandered over to the doorway of the teens’ room. Inside, perched on a tall entertainment stand against the opposite wall, was a large flat-screen TV. He figured it was at least 60 inches. There was an open area in the center of the room, and several couches arranged in a V shape on either side of that. There were blankets, pillows, and thermoses scattered about. Nine or ten young people (teenagers or possibly early twenties) were lounging around, some on sofas and some sprawled out on the floor, some tossing popcorn at others, all of them chattering loudly. Tommy had said the age groupings were merely suggestions, not hard and fast rules, but Joel couldn’t imagine wanting to watch a movie in there with that rowdy bunch, not even for a title that interested him. He felt acutely aware of his age.
Ellie glanced inside the room, then drifted over to the other doorway. Joel joined her and found a much different scene inside that room. Probably about thirty people, ages ranging from twenties to sixties or seventies. No one sat on the floor. No one was throwing popcorn. The volume of the conversation was a bit lower.
“Do you wanna watch either of these movies?” asked Ellie, happily munching on her popcorn.
Joel read the whiteboard in front of him: _The Bridges of Madison County._ He hadn’t even looked to see what the teens were watching -- not that he needed to. “Uh, no. This one’s definitely what they call a ‘chick flick.’ I think my mother liked it.”
Ellie walked over to the other board. “And _Clueless_? You see that one?”
Joel racked his brain for a moment. Alicia Silverstone… Stacey Dash… Brittany Murphy -- she died before the outbreak, didn’t she? The others were probably all dead now as well. That was a lovely thought. “Don’ think so. If I did, I don’ remember it. I was a kid when that came out. You go on, I’ll wait for you out here.” Something caught Ellie’s eye and Joel turned to follow her gaze. A boy was approaching them. Mid-to-late teens, tall-ish, lanky.
The kid stopped near the teen room doorway and smiled crookedly at Ellie. “Hey, Ellie. You watchin’ the movie?”
“Hey. I dunno… have you seen it? Is it good?” Ellie took a step towards the other teen.
“Yep, saw it last year. It’s kinda funny. I think it was like, _really_ funny, when it was new, but half the jokes don’t make sense now. Some of the girls love it. They go around quoting it and stuff. They go ‘as IF!’ and ~whateverrrr~” The boy made the ‘W’ with his fingers -- yeah, Joel vaguely remembered that, from a lifetime ago -- and Ellie laughed.
For some reason, Joel hadn’t really made the connection earlier… that if there were other teenagers in the town, there were teenage _boys_ in the town. Teenage boys with raging hormones who would be attracted to a cute girl like Ellie. Suddenly he was grateful that she was wearing such a big, baggy sweatshirt. _It can’t hide her pretty eyes, though. Or that smile._
“Joel, this is Jacob. Jacob, Joel.” There was Ellie, being polite again. The kid mumbled ‘hey’ and smiled at Joel, all friendly-like. Joel nodded in acknowledgment but didn’t force himself to return the smile. “I met him on the farm today,” Ellie explained. “He helped me groom Spirit.”
“It’s cool that _someone_ likes riding that crazy horse,” said the boy with a chuckle. He stepped into the room and gestured for Ellie to join him. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
Ellie looked back at Joel. “You don’t mind?”
“No, but… c’mere a sec first.” He glared a warning at the kid, who appeared to be oblivious to it. _The innocent act don’t fool me, boy._
“I’ll save you a seat,” said the little bundle of hormones before disappearing into the room.
Joel took a few steps back from the doorway so passersby wouldn’t overhear them. Ellie followed and looked at him expectantly while continuing to devour her popcorn.
“You sure you wanna go in there?” Joel asked her gently. “You don’t have to.”
Ellie nodded. “I know.”
Joel looked at her a long moment. ”Alright then. I’m gonna find a book or somethin’ to look at an’ I’ll be right out here. If that boy… if you feel uncomfortable at all, you jus’—“ | 106469886c0a4455afe9209dddbea296 | ['748045f42d48460f9bc8e30789845271'] | "Well, I imagine she wouldn' be my girlfriend very long, then," he answered mildly.
Ellie just couldn't resist playing devil's advocate. "What if you're really _really_ in love with her?"
"That ain't gonna happen. Kids always come first. Besides, I don' even _want_ a girlfriend. Now, if _you_ have a boyfriend, or girlfriend--"
"No way -- _that_ ain't gonna happen," Ellie interrupted, scoffing.
He smiled knowingly. As if this was something he could even _know_. "Maybe not for a while, but it will, someday. You're so young."
"No. I can't." She wasn't trying to be stubborn -- it was just fucking true!
"Then there's gonna be a lotta broken hearts in this town," Joel said in an infuriating teasing-but-not-really tone.
"Shut up," Ellie muttered. "Who would even want me, after..."
"Lots of people," he replied quickly, without a hint of teasing now. "Ain't nothin' wrong with you. If you--"
"I don't wanna talk about this!" Ellie cut him off, cursing herself for letting that particular skeleton out of the closet. She'd have to shove it back in there and lock the door before Joel got too close a look at it. "It doesn't matter anyway, cuz I'm never going to want that. Never." She couldn't imagine loving anyone like that after Bailey... although she'd felt like that after Riley died, too, and she'd been wrong. In time, as her memories kept getting older and dustier, there might have been room for someone new to creep in... if she was ever interested in having sex again, which she most certainly would not be.
At least Joel didn't poke at the skeleton. "That's fine. You don' have to. If it happens, it happens."
"Ugh, it won't! You should be thrilled -- you didn't want me having a boyfriend in the first place," she reminded him.
"I was... apprehensive. Yeah. But you were so happy... it was nice. An' you still made time for me."
"Of course! You're like... my _dad_."
Joel smiled a little. "Don' matter. In the olden days, kids would grow up an' grow away from their parents. It was natural. Not that they stopped carin', they jus' get involved in lives of their own, they move away... an' people took each other for granted a lot more back then. They don' do that so much now. If they're lucky enough to have any livin' family, they stick together."
Ellie couldn't imagine living in some house of her own, one that she didn't share with Joel. For them to live in the same town, but separately? She shuddered to think of it. "I don't want to move away," she declared. "Ever."
That elicited an even bigger smile. "Good. I like havin' you around."
It felt like they were straying a bit off the topic. Normally Ellie wouldn't mind, but now she really wanted to dissect his offer... to find the one flaw in his idea that he couldn't refute. She thought she might have one. "Joel, this all... _sounds_ good and everything," she began again, "but... how do you know that..." For some reason, she was feeling hyper-emotional about this question. _I'm actually scared to ask him this. But why? Surely he's thought about it..._
"That what, baby girl?" he prompted gently after a moment, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "Tell me."
"Well... helping me out is one thing, but to like... raise it as your own... this kid you have no connection to... it’s noble and all, but… how do you know that..." Would it be fair to subject the baby to his anger? Not that he would ever hurt the child; she knew better than that. But he could inflict pain unintentionally -- of the non-physical variety, of course -- and it could fucking _hurt_. She had to take that into consideration. She took a deep breath. "How do you know you could love some other guy's baby like that? Like a father's supposed to." It was hard, because she wanted to look away, but she forced herself to watch his face for signs of disgust that her reference to 'some other guy' would likely generate. To see if his mouth would say one thing while his eyes said another.
"How do I know? Easy," he replied immediately. "Because I love _you_ like that."
_...what? Did he just say... Holy shit!_ Nothing in his expression contradicted the words. She sure as hell hadn't been expecting that. She hadn't even equated his ability to love her with his ability to love the child. And she was stupidly affected by hearing the words. Of course she'd already known that he loved her; he'd shown it in plenty of ways. She felt tears prick her eyes yet again, and her face flushed. "You do?" was all she could say.
"Couldn' love you any more if you were my own flesh'n'blood." He looked and sounded sincere. Happy. Not even a little bit awkward, amazingly.
Yet she couldn't leave it at that. "Even... even after what I did?" she dared to ask, averting her gaze. _Am I just determined to ruin this, or what?_
He seemed a little surprised. "What you did?"
She stared at a stain on the floor, unable to look at him now. "Yeah. You know." _Don't make me say it!_
He sounded genuinely confused as to why she would think that. "It don' matter what you do. That's not how it works, kiddo. An' even if it was, what happened... it didn' make you unlovable or bad or... whatever you're thinkin'. Not at all. You an' me, we're still the same."
"...Oh." He'd said that before he left, and she hadn't believed him. _He's right_ , she realized. It went both ways. Even when she was super-angry with him, she still loved him. It didn't just fade away because he did something she didn't like. Even when she'd wanted it to. Suddenly overcome, she threw her arms around his neck. |
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