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144d23cf1a2b492192af0dd98f3bf232 | ['74b011a85cd447e3a58047d8392ede5c'] |
Twilight Talk
**Author's Note:**
> I just wanted to write Kihyuk (again) so here goes. Theres alot of Kingdom hearts refenced in this but hopefully not too heavily so you still understand.
>
> I'll explain some things here:
> Sora and Riku: main characters and bestfriends.
> Xehanort: Main evil guy who chases after darkness.
> Organisation XIII: created by Xehanort to "balance light and darkness in each world" this includes taking away the lightness if theres too much/adding darkness if theres too less.
> Keyblade: weapons used by Sora/riku
> Heartless: creatures created from pure darkness.
>
>
>
> If there's anything else, dont hesitate to ask me on twt: @IfOnlyKyun
>
> (some parts of the boys' dialouges are quotes from Kingdom hearts and are said by sora mainly)
_“What's important isn't how much we see each other, but how often we think of each other.”_ -Hayner.
♡♡♡
He pulls his coat around him tighter, as though to protect himself from the cold even further. But to no avail and he begins to regret his choice of outfit a little. A blue, oversized turtleneck sweater hugs his frame and he wears a long, grey coat over it. It's pretty thin, and he doesn't think it's doing much besides making him look good. Tight, black jeans cover his thighs and a pair of brown loafers adorn his feet. The dying leaves of Autumn dance around him as he steps up to their usual spot on the tip top of the clock tower. Soft, dark strands of his hair fall messily over the cold skin of his forehead as he flops down to sit at the edge of the building. It's dangerous, but he's done this for years, it almost feels safe. The old clock tower is the highest point of their hometown and world, Twilight town.
The sun is close to setting, and his best friend is nowhere to be seen. His legs dangle off the edge as he hums an old tune to himself. It's a tradition, to sit on the top of the clock tower and watch the sunset. Sometimes his best friend brought his camera and took aesthetically pleasing photographs of the painted sky. Sometimes a friend or two would join them.
But mostly, it's the two of them, the clock tower and the beautiful canvas stretched above them.
He's pulled out of his thoughts at the sound of shoes crunching leaves. Slowly, he turns to face the newcomer, and shoots him a toothy grin. A shorter boy saunters towards him, dressed in a burgundy sweater with a white turtleneck top on underneath. He's also wearing black jeans, but a pair of black and white converses cover his feet instead.
“Ki, took you a while.” A plain statement, there's no anger in his tone.
“Yeah? Sorry about that,” Kihyun doesn't look much apologetic though, as he grins back, “you know how Jooheon is. He went off on a tangent about the organisation.”
Minhyuk exhales a laugh at that, “He's really hooked up on all that, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, things like that we're supposed to leave behind in History class,” Kihyun moves to sit besides Minhyuk, “I got you ice cream to make up for it.”
“Sea-salted?”
“Always.” A smile spreads on Minhyuk's face, eyes twinkling as Kihyun produces two packets of ice cream. He hands one over to Minhyuk before opening his own. It's cold, and in no way suitable for ice cream. Yet it's part of their habit, and neither complain about it.
“Say Kihyun,” Minhyuk starts, taking a bite of his ice cream, “do _you_ believe in Organisation XIII and that whole thing?”
Tilting his head a little, Kihyun seems to think this question over.
“I don't...know. The way classes teach us these things, they make it seem like there was magic back then. But since there's nothing but the old rusted keyblades left in museums, there isn't much to go by that proves this whole...thing ever happened. There's no magic, no wizards, no keyblade-masters. So how could I believe…?”
Minhyuk nods, “Agree. It's cool stuff, but we can't be sure it happened. Sometimes I wonder whether our world has been completely consumed by darkness, which probably explains the lack of magic.”
“ No, if there's anything I've learnt from History lessons it's this: The heart may be weak. And sometimes it may even give in. But I've learned that deep down, there's a light that never goes out.”
Minhyuk's eyes widen, “You memorised Sora's quote?!”
Shaking his head, Kihyun replies, “Rather than memorizing it, it struck me. And I realised, our world can't be consumed by darkness, Minhyuk. There's a light in you and I, in Jooheon and even a certain pink-haired boy someone-" " _hey_!-” “-likes. That light will never go out, not unless we surrender, which we haven't. Because we all have our strengths, something that protects that light.”
Minhyuk nods, absorbing his best friend's wise words.
“And besides, if darkness did consume our world, those heartless things would have been all over the place. And the universe would have chosen a new keyblade master.”
“That sounds…true. Hey, what if you and I were chosen and keyblade masters, do you think we could do it?”
“Without a doubt,” Kihyun responds immediately, “My friends are my power. And I'm theirs. The two of us together? We could beat Xehanort in a heartbeat.”
Minhyuk chuckles quietly.
“What would you do, if one of us, like Riku, was engulfed by darkness?”
“Well, doesn't Riku open his heart to light and get back on his feet in the end?”
“...Yeah.”
“The same way. I'd trust us to do the same too. We'd make it.”
They could, Minhyuk thinks. Together, their hearts could probably move mountains. He glances over at his best friend, who's licking his his ice cream slowly, eyes focused on the setting sun. Without Kihyun, Minhyuk couldn't imagine where he'd be. Without Kihyun, Minhyuk simply wouldn't be...Minhyuk.
“Kihyun?”
“Hm?” | 9c47f5475cc149e98b31bbe161139ce3 | ['74b011a85cd447e3a58047d8392ede5c'] | He'll need to speak to Changkyun alone in hopes of giving the other some more closure. He's tired of causing a mess between his friends and he'll need to solve things with Changkyun first.
Before he can back out cowardly, Kihyun picks up his phone and shoots Changkyun a message, asking to meet him. He barely manages to put his phone back down before it vibrates with a reply from the other, who agrees with no questions. It pains Kihyun when realises Changkyun still trusts him so much.
But tomorrow, he decides, he'll tell him honestly.
>
> **_Should I be honest?_ **
> **_You know too, that I feel nothing_ **
> **_When I see you._ **
> **_Should I be honest?_ **
> **_Don’t be surprised,_ **
> **_I’m gonna make you cry._ **
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Should I be honest?
> (You know too, that I feel nothing
> When I see you)
> Should I be honest?
> Don’t be surprised,
> I’m gonna make you cry) Monsta x's Honestly.
>
> do tell me what u think :)
3. From Zero.
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> He closes the book, burning it. Watches the flames sing goodbye and the ashes promise a better story.
The contrast between the freezing wind and warm cafe air shoots right through Changkyun as he walks into the designated location. Sharp eyes carrying heavy bags dart around the coffee shop, searching for a familiar head of brown hair. Some of the tension leaves his body as he realises Kihyun isn't here yet. He deliberately arrived earlier, deciding being earlier would have been much better than walking in on Kihyun already seated and prepared. Changkyun takes a seat at the furthest corner, tucked away from most people. He figures their conversation will be something they wouldn't want people to eavesdrop on.
He turns to stare out of the window, leaning his head on his hand, elbow against the smooth wood of the table.
Anxiety seeps into his bones as his eyes follow random cars and people passing by. Why did Kihyun want to meet? His text was vague, a simple, _can we meet at your favourite cafe tomorrow_? It aches Changkyun's heart, that Kihyun still remembered his favourite place. They haven't spoken properly much since the break up, Changkyun can barely bring himself to meet the other's deep brown eyes. So for why they were suddenly meeting? He can't come up with a reason. And it's stressing him out, way too much. Changkyun doesn't like surprises. He likes to know what is going on beforehand. It's one thing they have in common.
He gnaws at his bottom lip, racking his brain for something. Anything that could make Kihyun want to suddenly see him. Was he being too heartbroken? Was Kihyun going to snap at him to stop staring at him when he thought he wasn't looking? But Changkyun knows Kihyun would never. However, in his state of uneasiness, it seems possible.
He takes a quick glance at his phone. It reads 11:59 just as the doorbell chimes, signalling an entrance. Changkyun's head snaps up and he locks eyes with Kihyun. Who smiles, gentle. _Easy_. The corner of his lips lift slightly in his own attempt at returning the gesture. It looks awkward but Kihyun doesn't mention anything. Instead, he seats himself down across Changkyun. The scarf wrapped around his neck seems to engulf him and Changkyun's feels a bittersweet tinge in his heart. If this was before, he would have reached over and unwrapped his scarf, placing a soft kiss on his lips in the process. He would have taken Kihyun's small hands in his own to warm them up, all the while smiling gently. But this wasn't then, this was after. And a part of Changkyun feels numb and dead.
“Did you wait long?” Kihyun breathes out.
He shakes his head, “I just got here.” A lie.
Kihyun nods, eyes searching Changkyun's face.
“How,” he licks his lips, “how have you been doing lately?”
Changkyun shrugs a little, tries a smile, “well. I'm alive, aren't I?” A painful laugh.
“You are, but are you eating and sleeping well? You seem alot more rough, Changkyun.”
Changkyun remains silent.
Kihyun inhales, “Before we were together, we were friends. I don't want to lose that, I care about you. How can't I when you were one of the closest people to me, long before we started dating?” Kihyun composes himself, suddenly looking a little insecure.
“I want to care about you, Changkyun. I don't want to forget you or throw away the years of friendship we had. I want you to stay in my life and me in yours, if you want.”
Changkyun swallows, finding it extremely hard to concentrate on the words leaving his ex's mouth. He's torn. He wants to be heartbroken and sad, but a huge part of him just misses Kihyun. Not only as a lover but also as a friend. He misses being around Kihyun and, for some reason, so does Kihyun. He's a little confused, not understanding why Kihyun would still want him around. Of all things,Changkyun wasn't expecting this. Anger, exasperation and resentment, yeah, he is already on his way to accepting that. But missing him, wanting him around? Changkyun is speechless.
“You want us to stay friends?” When Kihyun nods, not a hint of lie in his eyes, Changkyun stares at him, bewildered.
Kihyun's eyebrows furrow ever so slightly as he studies Changkyun's face. Kihyun could always read him like an open book, so his next words don't surprise Changkyun.
“You...did you think I hated you? I-”
“Hate.”
“Changkyun. I could _never_.”
Kihyun reaches his hands out towards Changkyun before stopping just shy of touching him. He awkwardly retracts them, and that's when Changkyun laughs inside. _They're sat close, so close, but the distance between them feels as huge as an ocean._ |
05d1dc602b9642e8b803f5b299be53dd | ['74b8fb8f03c94424b3d2bbb549ca3d72'] | "You're a really interesting person, Min Yoongi."
"Is that just an easier way of saying 'weird'?"
"Of course not. I'm really glad we're friends."
Yoongi smiles at him and ignores the negative feeling he gets with the word 'friends'. Obviously they're friends, what else would they be?
Jimin drinks the last of his coffee and puts it down loudly. Yoongi looks at the cup, then at Jimin, only to find Jimin looking at him too.
"I wanna hear your music."
That's not what Yoongi was expecting. "M-My music?" he stammers. Jimin laughs.
"Yes, you idiot. And trust me, I'm always honest. My dance team can vouch for me. They're kind of scared of me sometimes," Jimin says with a smirk and Yoongi laughs.
He looks at Jimin and shrugs. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do you want to hear my music?"
Jimin shrugs as if he doesn't know the answer, but he does. And Yoongi knows he does.
"Music clearly plays a big role in your life and...I just really want to get to know you. I wanna know what it is you love in music."
Yoongi just stares at him, not really knowing what to think. Not really knowing what to do with the feelings that just gave him.
"And I'm also just really curious and nosy by nature."
They both laugh.
"Okay," Yoongi says finally and Jimin looks at him with a hopeful smile on his face.
"Let's go, then."
\----------
"Okay, so this isn't finished yet. But it's the one I'm currently most excited about."
Yoongi looks at Jimin. He's sitting on the couch in the little studio Yoongi has. Not a lot of people have been in here, but Yoongi doesn't mind Jimin being here. Not at all.
"Let's hear it," Jimin says with a kind smile. It takes a lot for Yoongi to turn his head back to the computer and hit play.
The song isn't long since it's not done yet, but Yoongi is proud of what he has. He thinks it's better than what he gave the producer, but maybe it isn't.
If he's being honest with himself, this whole producer thing has thrown him for a loop. Maybe he hasn't improved all this time, but only gotten worse. Maybe he's the only one who would listen to his type of music.
The song ends and Yoongi can't look at Jimin. Sure, Jimin doesn't have a lot of knowledge about what's good and what's bad production wise, but...
He just really wants him to like it.
"Yoongi."
Yoongi looks up carefully.
"I promise you I'm being honest. And I know I don't have the slightest clue of what I'm talking about, but that was really good," he says.
Yoongi can't even smile, he's so relieved. "Really?" he asks and Jimin nods.
Suddenly, Yoongi tears up.
"Oh, shit," he says and covers his face. "I'm sorry, I don't know what the fuck is happening, I'm just-"
That's when he feels Jimin's arms around him, hugging him from behind. "It's okay, don't apologize," he says.
"This is so embarrassing," Yoongi says and wipes a tear from his cheek. "I guess this whole thing with the producer and my song... It just messed with my head a little."
Jimin walks around Yoongi to face him. "I completely understand. Not only are you extremely busy and doing everything all at once...but this is your passion. This is what you're doing it all for. It's okay to be upset," he says and Yoongi sighs. "Thank you," he says.
Jimin smiles and wipes a tear from Yoongi's face. "Don't worry about it," he almost whispers. They stare at each other for a moment too long.
Eventually, it's Yoongi who looks away. "I can't believe you've seen me cry twice," he says with a chuckle. Jimin laughs.
"Guess it should be my turn soon, huh?"
"No."
Jimin raises his brows in surprise. Yoongi shrugs and bites his cheek.
"I don't want to see you upset. Ever."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> this is becoming much longer than i expected but i hope you're enjoying the slow burn ;) thanks for reading and let me know what you think!
9. NINE.
"Hey, you seem kind of out of it today."
Jimin turns around and sees Choi Jaesung, Jungkook's friend. Ever since Jungkook told him that Jaesung likes him, Jimin noticed the little signs. He would always try to maintain eye contact. He smiles like he wants to say something.
Jimin doesn't want to tell him he's not interested, unless Jaesung asks him out directly. Jimin kind of hopes he does, so he can tell him. He doesn't want things to be awkward but he doesn't want to be an asshole who assumes someone's into him.
Even though he knows for sure. Since Jungkook told him. But that's not the point.
Jimin laughs awkwardly. The rest of the crew is still practicing but Jimin needed a break, so he came to the locker room. To be alone.
"I'm fine, Jaesung. Thank you," Jimin says, hoping that would be enough.
It isn't.
"Are you sure?" Jaesung says and steps closer to him. Even though he's not in Jimin's personal space, Jimin automatically takes a step back.
"Yeah, I'm sure," he says.
Jaesung nods. He really is a nice guy. Jimin just...has his mind on other things right now.
"Okay. I did have a question, though. I know you told me to practice, but I'm still struggling with the first part of the dance. I promise I can do the rest perfectly, but-"
Jimin interrupts. "Stop, it's okay. You don't have to redeem yourself, it's okay to struggle," he says and smiles. Jaesung smiles back.
"But I was wondering if you could help me after practice. Only if you have time, though," he says.
Jimin always feels this responsibility over his teammates, especially when they ask him for things like this. Dance always comes before personal issues with the crew. | b0ebe810dac24135a5591d7d67a59c63 | ['74b8fb8f03c94424b3d2bbb549ca3d72'] | i have to ask you something but i wanna do it in person
Yoongi looks up at Namjoon, but he's already shaking his head.
"I see how it is. Just go already, you whipped little bitch," he says and Yoongi just smiles and starts walking towards the studio.
When he arrives, Jimin's standing there. His hair is a bit damp, probably from practice.
"Hey, what's up?" Yoongi asks. Jimin smiles at him, but his face turns worried all of a sudden. "Wait, you don't have class right now, right?"
Yoongi chuckles. "I wouldn't be here if I did," he says and Jimin purses his lips together.
"I just felt like I made it sound too important so maybe- whatever. Anyway, I wanted to ask you..."
Jimin trails off and grabs something out of his bag. They look like tickets.
"Our dance contest is coming up soon and I got three extra tickets for friends and family. My family lives too far away and I reserved two for my friends, but I was wondering if you wanted-"
Jimin cuts himself off. "But I completely understand if you can't. It's in the middle of the day and even if you don't have classes that day, I'm sure you'll have to work. Honestly, forget I even asked," Jimin rambles. Yoongi can't help but smile. The younger is just too cute.
"Can I talk now?" Yoongi asks, still with a small smile on his face. Jimin half smiles and nods.
"I'd love to go," Yoongi says. "But you're right. It really depends on when exactly the show is."
Jimin gives him the ticket. "All the information is on there," he says. Yoongi looks it over. The show falls on a day where he doesn't have classes, but there's no way he isn't scheduled to work that day.
He looks up at Jimin. He really, really doesn't want to say no. He knows Jimin would understand, but he just...he needs to be there.
"I'm gonna try my hardest to be there. You can count on that," Yoongi decides to say.
To his surprise, Jimin hugs him.
He lets go before Yoongi can do anything. "Sorry. I just got a little too excited. I thought maybe you didn't want to," Jimin says and the way he kind of folds in himself as he does, makes Yoongi want to hold him again.
"I-It's okay," Yoongi says. "And of course I want to. You know I love your dancing," Yoongi says and Jimin smiles shyly.
Shit, Yoongi has it bad. This is not good. He can feel how much he wants to be there for Jimin and he never felt like that before.
The feelings aren't bad, though. The fact that he doesn't know what to with them, that's the bad part.
Yoongi is extremely bad at feelings.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> thanks for reading!
11. ELEVEN.
Yoongi takes a deep breath before walking into his boss' office. He waited a whole hour for an excuse to go to him and he finally got one.
To order him a coffee. Of course. As if Yoongi's mind wasn't occupied with Jimin enough already.
When Yoongi walks in, his boss is on the phone. Crap. How is he gonna do this? He puts down the coffee in front of him. His boss gives him a small nod without eye contact.
Yoongi bites his lip and decides to go for it. "Sir?" he asks. He doesn't respond. Either Yoongi was too quiet, or he completely forgot Yoongi's existence. Judging by previous interactions, it's probably the latter.
"Sir?" he asks again, a little louder. This time, his boss hears him. And he looks pissed.
"Could you hold on for one second?" he says and covers his phone with his hand. Yoongi swallows.
"What could possibly be so important for you to interrupt a phone call?" he asks. Yoongi regrets everything. Of course he should've waited. What's wrong with him?
"I'm sorry, sir. I'll just-"
"No. Now you're gonna have to tell me, Min Yoongi. Otherwise this would've been for nothing."
Yoongi nods and looks down. "I was wondering if I could get a day off this Friday," he says.
Silence.
"Why?" his boss asks. Yoongi looks up at him carefully. "A friend of mine has an important event. I really have to be there, but it overlaps with my shift," Yoongi explains. But his boss just laughs.
"Why do you think we hire interns? They're necessary. You know you need this internship, Min Yoongi. So no, you're not getting a day off. I truly can't believe you would even ask, I should honestly fire you. There are people lining up for this opportu-"
"Then do it."
His boss laughs again, but it sounds more confused this time.
"What did you say?"
Yoongi honestly doesn't know either. He was thinking about all the hours he spent here and how miserable he's been during them. No one took him seriously, he barely learned anything. He's only been doing it for the recommendation letter he'd get at the end. But what would a recommendation even mean from a man like him? He doesn't even like Yoongi. This isn't even real producing he's doing, it's just the marketing side of it.
This isn't what he wants.
"Fire me."
His boss looks at him like he's crazy. "Excuse me?" he asks, but he heard him correctly.
"If you don't fire me, I'll just quit. It doesn't affect you either way," Yoongi says.
"You're gonna quit because I didn't give you a day off work?"
"I'm quitting because this isn't making me happy. I thought that wasn't important at first, that my future was more important. But it isn't. I'm scared that if I keep doing this, I'll end up like you."
"Get out of my office."
"Gladly," Yoongi says. He grabs the coffee from his desk. "I think I'm gonna take that," he says and walks out.
\--------- |
10618a5cb504414586ff860306743863 | ['74ec8a1da18245f2bb8fdd76f2296e7b'] | Halloween Party
“Come on Gabe! We’re gonna be late!” Sam shouted, adjusting his police uniform and glancing in the mirror. He grimaced. Halloween was a miserable holiday for him, always had been, but his boyfriend had insisted. The school was holding a costume contest in Hoffman Hall, a supposedly haunted auditorium in the center of their campus. “Hold your horses, Samsquatch!” Gabriel barked back. “Close your eyes, I’m coming down!” Sam heaved a sigh. He loved Gabriel, he really did, but sometimes the goofy boy was just too much for his serious brain to handle.
He relented though, knowing Gabriel had worked hard on his costume (and hidden it from Sam for the past week). The suspense _was_ killing him, whether he liked the holiday or not. He shut his eyes, tucking his hair behind his ears. There was a steady creak as the smaller man came down the stairs, and a thump that Sam knew was him leaping down the last few. “Okay, open.” Gabriel said from in front of him.
Sam opened his eyes, turning to face his boyfriend. His somewhat excited expression fell quickly when he saw Gabriel in front of him. His goofy boyfriend was wearing a tutu in the most god-awful shade of orange and black. Along with it, he wore a black tank top and orange tulle fairy wings.
Gabriel’s face dropped a little when he saw Sam’s expression. “Don’t you like it?”
“Uh—“ Sam paused, trying to find a way to speak his mind without hurting his boyfriend’s feelings. “It’s… Unique. But… Is it really… Appropriate?” Gabriel’s face drooped more, turning to a scowl. “Well if you’d agreed on a couples costume with me…”
“You wanted to be a sexy prisoner, Gabriel, I wasn’t gonna parade you around in a skirt, and I won’t parade you around in a tutu!” Sam cried, his face burning. Gabriel began to pout. “Why? Are you ashamed of me?”
“No!” Sam sighed, knowing he was only making this worse. “Look, baby, it’s fine, it’s just… Come on, if you move the wrong way everyone’s gonna see your, you know…” He flushed, motioning to the tutu. Gabriel’s eyebrow raised and he lifted the tutu a little, revealing a pair of tight black panties that almost perfectly matched the black stockings he was wearing. “I’m covered.”
“Not enough!” Gabriel smirked then. “You’re afraid someone else is gonna see what’s yours, aren’t you?”
“No…” Sam said, but his voice was softer, giving him away. The smaller man gave a jump, leaping onto Sam’s body and forcing him to catch him. “It doesn’t matter who looks, Sam, I’m yours.” Sam sighed softly, looking down at Gabriel. He noticed now he was wearing just a little makeup, enough to draw out his honey eyes. “I know you are… You’ve made that pretty clear.” Gabriel grinned. “Does that mean we can go?”
“Promise you won’t flirt?” Sam asked, self-conscious. Gabriel grinned. “I’ll flirt with you.” Sam had a chuckle, pressing a kiss to Gabriel’s mouth. He scowled. “What flavor is that?”
“Caramel.” Gabriel said, hopping down and adjusting the tutu. “Who taught you to do makeup?” Sam asked. Gabriel grinned back at him as he bounced to the door. “Your brother.” He said, ducking out in time to narrowly miss Sam’s big hand pawing for him. | 88c4b9511b314478b0ade4e720e0e8cd | ['74ec8a1da18245f2bb8fdd76f2296e7b'] | Over the course of the next few weeks, Dean became increasingly aggressive, biting Sam’s head off over the least little thing. Sam remained as patient as he could, helping Dean bathe, eat, and do anything else he needed to do. He shopped for them, even indulging in Dean’s love of anything greasy and sweet rather than pushing healthy food on him, but to no avail.
After one particularly bad argument over Sam’s insistence that Dean pass up a case that sounded like a werewolf to a nearby hunter, Dean threw a punch at his younger brother before storming down the hall. Sam winced when the door to his bedroom slammed shut.
Concerned when he heard nothing for nearly an hour, Sam creeped toward Dean’s door. He hated spying on his brother, but he was concerned. Dean’s temper was one thing he was used to, but Dean was never like this. Sure, he could blame some of it on the broken arm, and the pain from the healing, but not all of it. Dean was no stranger to pain, Sam knew. So, he broke his own rule to respect Dean’s space, and eased the door open enough to peek inside.
Dean was stretched out on the bed in just his t-shirt, his hand working furiously between his legs. Dean was whining, but it wasn’t a pleasured sound. To Sam, it sounded like his older brother was close to tears. Steeling himself for another argument, he stood straight and knocked on the door before opening it the rest of the way.
“Damnit, Sam!” Dean barked at him, throwing the blanket over his hips. “Wait until I say okay!”
“Dean.” Sam said calmly, entering the room and shutting the door. “I know what’s wrong.”
“You have no idea what’s wrong.” Dean snapped, attempting to sit up. The cast prevented his movement and he slammed his head against the mattress in frustration.
Sam stepped forward, grabbing for Dean to help him. Instead, the man swung at Sam’s head. Sam anticipated the action, catching Dean’s fist in his hand. His cheeks burned when he felt the warm slick of lube on Dean’s fist, and he caught the olders gaze. “Dean, I can help.”
"How, Sam? You gonna jerk me off?" Dean snarled. Sam shrank a little, his cheeks brightening more. He gave a barely there shrug and Dean scoffed. "Seriously, Sam? I'm not desperate enough to have my brother give me a handjob."
"I am." Sam muttered before he realized he'd opened his mouth. "What the hell are you talking about?"
“You’ve been a complete jerk to me for two weeks, Dean, when all I’ve done is try to friggin’ help your sorry ass. I go out of my way to make sure you’re comfortable, and all you do is scream at me and throw punches when something doesn’t go right! If it’s because you can’t jack off with your left then fine, I’ll bite the friggin’ bullet and do it for you, because that’s better than you being a shit!” He finally snapped, leaving Dean gaping at him.
Sam took a deep breath, looking down at his hands to calm himself. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to help you, De. I just want you to be okay.”
“I am okay, Sammy… I just have a hard time letting someone help me out. Or… Look, everything you’re doing for me is great, you’ve been an awesome little brother. Thank you.” He touched Sam’s wrist. “I just hate feeling helpless. You know I’ve always been the one to take care of you, and Dad when he was too stupid to take care of himself. I don’t like knowing I’m useless.”
“You’re not useless.”
“Right now I am! I can’t shower, I can’t shave, I can barely eat… Can’t drive my car, can’t even jerk off!” He slapped at the blanket covering his hips in frustration. “I’m freakin’ useless.”
“You got hurt, Dean.” Sam grabbed Dean’s wrist without thinking about it. He held it up so he wouldn’t hit himself or Sam. “You saved my ass doing it too, if you hadn’t jumped on that god when you did, he would’ve killed me. So thank you…” Sam sighed, looking at his hand, curled loosely around Dean’s wrist. “You’re just hurt. You’ll get better, if anyone can beat a broken elbow it’s you. You’ll just need help, one more week, that’s it. Then you’ll be back to kicking ass and not needing anyone’s help for anything. But lemme help until then, okay?”
“Sam, I’m supposed to take care of you.” Dean said, his voice breaking out of its gruff shell. Sam’s mouth twitched into a smile for just a moment. “We’ve had this discussion, De. We take care of each other.”
Sam knew that face. He knew Dean was going to argue. And he didn’t want to hear it. So instead, and thinking back on it years later, Sam couldn’t say why he did it, he leaned forward and slammed his mouth against Dean’s. The gasp from the older Winchester was enough to spur Sam on. He rose, not breaking the kiss, letting his fingers moved up to find the slightly longer hair on the top of Dean’s head, twist and pull. Dean’s throat clicked, a moan swallowed by Sam’s mouth as he crawled onto the bed, his wide stance slotting over Dean’s hips. He moved his hands down then, over Dean’s fabric covered chest and further, twisting the sheet down to bare his freckled hips. Only then, when Dean was sufficiently pinned under him, did Sam pull back.
Dean’s mouth was parted, lips swollen and pupils blown as he met Sam’s gaze. “What’re you doing?” He rasped, and Sam smiled. “Taking care of my big brother.”
“This…”
“This is what I’ve wanted for years, Dean.” Sam admitted, the words leaving his mouth at the same time a weight left his shoulders. His biggest secret. “I’ve wanted you for years.” |
f94a3e88576e406b809457947739efd0 | ['74f183a5d3ef498391fd9c2de5d6f847'] | "Noctis, I'm being serious, can you still not understand why I’m so hesitant for you to go?”
“I would be fine out there Dad. Gladio and Prompto are already part of the Crownsguard. They can join me for it. Even Clarus says my warping has improved a lot lately.”
“Yes, but it is still only two men other than you. Even with all those bodyguards, it wasn’t enough to protect you against that ‘ _monster’_.” Regis looks away in an attempt to dissuade from having to recount that memory again.
Noctis too stays silent.
Regis sighs, “I’m sorry Noctis, but Gladio and your friend Prompto are just not enough for your personal protection. You have to also think how much more pressure it is on their shoulders if it’s just you three out there. So either wait for paperwork to be processed to have a Glaive join your group, or you stay here and have our prepared unit go and retrieve this man.”
Noctis still looks visibly upset, but he knows his father is just worried so he finally backs down and accepts all he can do for now is be patient.
Regis leaves Noctis and heads toward the group of Glaives who are almost ready to head out. He stands in front of them and in an authoritative voice he announces, “Do whatever it takes to capture this man, but most importantly, _do not hurt him._ ”
4. Ch.4
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This chapter is a lil shorter than expected but only because I wanted to write the other half in a new chapter. Enjoy!
Almost a full week and the only reports Noctis ever hears back are all false alarms. It gets to a point where he has to tell them to only report back when they actually have a solid lead. It isn’t for another few days when Noctis’ schedule is interrupted by a Crownsguard who was sent to seek out the prince.
“Your Highness, we just got word back that they believe they’ve finally found the target.”
The prince almost steps back in disbelief. Truthfully, he was starting to feel like this search was a waste of time and resources that could have been put to better use. No one else would openly admit it either, but there seemed to be mutual agreement in the air about the whole thing.
The search may have been approved with good reason, but even Noctis felt his own selfish reasons were bleeding through and putting a strain on everyone involved. At least that’s how he felt until this moment.
“The team says they spotted the man with the pack, but they seem hesitant about this. They requested permission to go ahead with this pursuit.”
“Permission? Why would they need my permission when it clearly sounds like a good lead?”
The Crownsguard grimaces before he continues with the report. “Unlike the other Coeurl packs they’ve come across that were made up of regular Coeurls, this one has an Elder Coeurl amongst them. We have very limited knowledge ourselves on Elder Coeurls. According to the hunters, many who have went after just one don’t make it back alive…”
Noctis’ eyes widen hearing the new bit of information. He thinks for a moment.
“I see. Alright. Permission has been granted. Let them know they only need to retrieve the target. We don’t need any casualties for this.”
“Understood.” The Crownsguard bows quickly before running back off to their communications team.
\--
After waiting days, they hear back that the retrieval team is finally, _finally_ coming back with the target in custody. No casualties reported, thank the Astrals, just some injuries that Noctis would gladly request they take some time off for any recovery needed.
Waiting amongst the crowd, Noctis sees a metal container on a truck bed come into view. The closer the truck rolls in, the more worried everyone suddenly becomes when he also hears the violent banging coming from within.
He sees one of the Glaives jumping out from another truck following behind. He goes and questions her.
“Glaive Altius, right? What’s happening inside?”
“Your Highness, please step back. We need to move him to our containment cell. This individual is dangerous at the moment. The sedative in the tranquilizer must have worn off and he’s going into a violent rage.”
Hearing more banging, he instinctively steps back. The truck moves ahead and Noctis tries to cut past the crowd to follow them to the entrance of the building. As prince, he easily gains access and enters in time to see them throw the man into the nearest containment unit meant for criminals.
He quickly steps up to a random Glaive standing by and questions them, “What are they doing? The orders were just to retrieve him not throw him in there like a common thug.”
“Your Highness, please understand it wasn’t easy getting him to come along with us. Among trying to fight away the Coeurls to get to him, the individual himself was very adamant in not complying with us. We tranquilized him to make the trip smoother, but even as they were loading him into the truck, he was fighting back and attempted to…bite one of our men’s neck off.”
The prince was definitely shocked. He hadn’t expected to hear that tidbit. He looks past the Glaive and sees the Marshal of the Crownsguard talking amongst some other men in front of the containment cell. He hurries over to the Marshal hoping to get more answers from him.
“Cor, why are you here?”
“I was called down. Now that he’s in custody, we’re currently trying to figure out what to do with this man. We figured to have him processed as a fugitive.”
“Fugitive? No, wait, that’s not what this was meant to be. Why is he being treated like one?” | ecd93163b56e41e29143bdd81369f2f3 | ['74f183a5d3ef498391fd9c2de5d6f847'] | “I’ve got something amazing to show you guys.” Raichi dashed off into a back room to retrieve an object. He came back out holding a weapon as large as him resting proudly on his shoulder. “Feast your eyes on my new invention, The Ba-NaNa-Zooka!” Sanada face palmed. Held in Raichi’s arms was a standard bazooka simply painted in yellow. Sanada tried to explain it to the three. “I tried to stop him, I really did. But his obsession with bananas is just out of this world.” Sanada couldn’t help but chuckle when he saw the look of disbelief on their faces. “Don’t worry. Our men prepared you guys with all the weapons you could need.” Workers rolled in large bins filled with various kinds of firearms and bullets to go along with them.
Yuuki sincerely expressed his gratitude. “Thank you for your help and cooperation. If this mission is a success, please join us for dinner.”
“Thanks for the offer, but we’ll probably have our hands full having to relocate the Guild now that it’s been discovered by Monster.” Sanada explained.
Yuuki nodded his head in understanding and led his group to the exit with the men wheeling in the weapons behind them. Before forgetting, he turned toward the Guild leaders and mentioned, “Oh right, please don’t forget to deactivate the traps. We’d like to have our comrades back.”
Sanada pointed and winked at them. “Got it.”
Sanada and Raichi went into the control room and pulled up multiple levers to reset the traps and let anyone who was caught in them get out. As the traps were deactivated, multiple bodies rose up from their fallen position. The ceiling that was crushing Masuko raised back into the ceiling. Azuma stood up, the bottom half of his shirt falling down from being cut by the laser. Kawakami and Kuramochi got up with their uniform torn where the spikes had impaled them. The water drained in the whirlpool room and Eijun got up and shook his head as droplets of water fell off his hair. He twisted a part of his drenched uniform to extract the water. He loudly exclaimed to no one. “Man, drowning sucks!”
Everyone rushed back to the school and gathered back into the student council room. The weapons were quickly delivered to Headquarters where everyone grabbed a firearm. There was a wide range of various weapons, from a 44 magnum, to an Uzi submachine gun.
With each of their selected choice, both teams ran toward the auditorium with gun in hand and a determined look lacing their expressions. The auditorium was almost in reach when they stopped in their tracks facing their dreaded obstacle. It was none other than Monster. He stood there tall with his usual stoic face. He started to step toward the group. Yuuki yelled out. “Fire with all you have!” Every weapon was shooting at Monster, but he just kept deflecting the barrage of bullets with his right arm as he calmly walked toward them. There was a sense of frustration among the group witnessing how little damage their entire firepower was doing.
They did have the upper hand though, and it came in the form of a rocket launcher sloppily painted in yellow. “I forgot to show you my other masterpiece.” Raichi said with an ecstatic grin. He launched the projectile and it cut through the air toward Monster. Furuya only had a split-second to notice it coming. He moved his right arm down to his side to block the rocket, but the force of it pushed him clear across the field and disappeared into the woods. A fiery explosion could be seen from their position.
Everyone looked at Raichi stunned and/or impressed. With a hand on his waist and the rocket launcher on his shoulder, Raichi looked toward the captain and said, “I want Tonkatsu.”
Yuuki nodded with his usual serious expression. He then looked around to the rest of the group and reminded everyone, “Let’s move on to the auditorium now. It’s almost time. That explosion will only keep Monster down temporarily.”
8pm had finally hit. In the auditorium, a large group of NPC students were gathered somewhat confused at the reason they were told to gather there. The lights dimmed and bright spotlights pointed toward the center of the stage to reveal the all-female band, the Miracle Managers. When they were given the go ahead to start the concert, Takako, the lead vocalist pumped the crowd up by speaking into the mic and shouting, “Are you all ready to rock?!” The applause she received was astounding as all the NPCs were excited for the show.
They began distracting the students with their first song. During the middle of the group’s performance, oversized electronic fans hidden behind the curtains had successfully blown away the pieces of paper held between the hands in the crowd. A multitude of meal tickets had flown to the back of the crowd allowing the chance for them to grab a meal ticket and escape.
Miyuki opened his hand wide open and a ticket had flown into it. He quickly enclosed it in a fist and brought it down in front of him. He looked up to see teachers and multiple authority figures rushing into the auditorium to break everything up and capture any misbehaving students. The Captain yelled at everyone to get moving. Kuramochi ran up to Miyuki and quickly asked. “Did you get the one you want?” Miyuki showed him his meal ticket and Kuramochi just yelled back. “Alright, good. Now hurry! We gotta go!” He slapped him on the back and started to sprint forward.
\--
Miyuki stared down at his meal in disbelief as this was their reward for their torturous efforts. They were in the cafeteria sitting together at a long table.
When he took a look around the dining hall, all he could see was everyone happily chowing down on the food they successfully acquired with their meal ticket. There was boisterous laughter all around. Miyuki didn’t seem to understand it, but he had guessed the mission was a success. An amused smirk littered his face. Kuramochi was walking by and stopped as he spotted something peeking out of Miyuki’s hair. "There's something stuck in your hair.” He picked it off and looked down at it. ”Hey, that’s pretty lucky. It's another meal ticket." Kuramochi handed it back to Miyuki. He took it, stared down at the piece of paper and read it. A devilish smile slipped onto his face. A wonderfully wicked idea had appeared in his head.
He brought his tray over to a certain golden eyed boy. “Sawamura, could I sit with you?” He asked with a friendly tone. Eijun looked over with cheeks stuffed with food. He gulped it down to be able to answer. “Uhh, sure.”
Miyuki sat down next to the boy and pretended to eat his meal. He excitedly proclaimed with great enthusiasm, “Wow, this is really good! Hey Sawamura, you should try it.” Miyuki held up his spoon and brought it up to Eijun’s mouth. The other looked down at the spoon and decided to take a bite of the offer and began to chew the food. His chewing slowed down when a burning feeling started to spread through the inside of his mouth. His face begun to turn a deep shade of red. Huge amounts of sweat rapidly dripped down his face. Eijun’s tongue felt like it was on fire and he dashed out of his seat in immediate seek of water.
Everyone's eyes followed Eijun as he ran out the door while Miyuki was laughing his head off, pounding a fist on the table.
The item on the meal ticket read: Mega Spicy Mapo Doufu.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I don't plan to drop this story since I have most of the ending written and other scattered parts for chapters, but i can't predict when their updates will be. ;o;
> This chapter was fun though! Let me know your thoughts too~ |
e1c2459776734308820e00fd10e47b99 | ['752433ce0b4e417c92bc0986c967084a'] | clipped wings grow back
**Author's Note:**
> wrote this in the weeks after episode 26 to cope. finished it up recently but i was too tired to put more effort in to clean it up so its still a mess.
> find me on tumbr @ USER
Of course Cree had followed them. Of course she had. Lucien was back, after all, after two years, after death itself he was back. Of course she had followed them.
And something was wrong with him, she knew it. Whether the ritual did something to him or he had simply changed in the two years since she didn't know. But something was wrong, and he wasn't himself.
He was working with these fools, for instance. These fools who had gotten themselves into too much trouble and had now gotten half of them kidnapped. And one of them dead. The only one she cared about.
It took all she could not to charge in as soon as Nonagon fell. But she felt that he could take care of himself. He would handle himself, or at least his new compatriots would. He trusted them enough to travel and fight alongside him, so she in turn trusted them to take care of him. And that trust was quickly lost.
The glaive sunk deep into his chest, far too deep, and blood poured out of his mouth. It took so much more not to run in. She frantically cast spells from within her brush, healing word after word until her sobbs choked her voice and her tears flooded her vision. And there was nothing she could do, nothing from this distance. And she couldn't rush out yet, she mustn't rush out or they'd get her too. They'd kill her.
And the dwarf who led them there offered sacrifice. And Lorenzo refused, he refused that final shred of dignity, and he left. And there were only four standing. And one lying dead.
And one in a bush.
The moment Lorenzo was out of sight she ran out, not bothering to hide from the others any more. She ran out and she grabbed his shoulders and lifted him up and shook him until the wizard pulled her away. She tore free of his arms only to be grabbed by the monk, wrapped in a sick hug.
"Let me see him!" She yelled. "I can fix it, I can fix it, just let me at him!"
"He is not the man you think he is!" the wizard shouted.
"He's our friend, he isn't your fucking friend." the monk whispered in her ear, still holding tight.
"Let me help him!" Cree hissed in finality, clawing her way out of the monk's grip and toward Lucien.
His eyes were open. He was still and frozen but his eyes were open, still staring above in an echo of fury that sunk into acceptance.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
This wasn't supposed to happen again.
She tore out her earrings, ripping through the skin but not bothering to care. "Wizard!" she shouted, beckoning him over. He trudged over solemnly, numbly. She held out her hand with her diamond earrings and he summoned his own, placing it in the palm of her hand. She closed it in a fist, her magic crumbling the jewels to dust as she muttered an incantation.
"Lucien." she whispered, rubbing the dust into his cheek and caressing her thumb over his skin. His cold, tense skin. "Nonagon. Mollymauk. Whatever you wish to be called now." she ran the remainder of the dust through his hair, slicked with the blood he spit in his final moments. "Return to us, please. You have done it before. Please, Lucien, not now, not after I only just found you again." she dissolved into sobs, still petting his hair. "Even for only a moment, please, Lucien, please come back."
And he breathes. The torn chest mends itself, skin rippling to cover blood and bone as it weaves itself back together under the moonlight. And he breathes, eyes still open, still not seeing yet, like a newborn baby, he breathes and his heart beats under his fixed skin. He blinks, and he sits up, wincing. His hand travels to his head, passing over his torso and pausing slightly as the now closed wound, and he brings his hand to his face, closing his eyes and sighing.
"Mollymauk," Caleb breathes, frozen still.
And he laughs. Mollymauk laughs as he brings his other hand to his face, and he pushes his bloody hair out of his eyes and wipes his own blood from his chin. And he's laughing, he's unable to stop laughing, just at the insanity of this all.
"Mister Mollymauk," Caleb says again, stumbling forward, his hand unconsciously reaching out to meet Molly's on his face. "Mollymauk how are you feeling?"
A tear rolls down each of their cheeks, simultaneously. Molly grasps Caleb's hand over his own and moves it to cover his whole face, fingers sprawling over his eyes, thumb over his cheek and palm resting over his mouth as he speaks.
"Empty." | 5698f444f0414fb0950c9d360d7fba5e | ['752433ce0b4e417c92bc0986c967084a'] | Only Once
They only ever said "I love you" once.
Beauregard is tough, strong, hard, but brittle. She stands tall, never wavering, never breaking, almost never breaking. She has her moments. Moments she's strained too far, moments where she's too stiff to stay still any longer. She has moments where she breaks through the shell of herself. There were less, at the beginning, when they were strangers. Don't get attached, Dairon said, Or you'll break when they sever. Beauregard has never been attached to anything in her life.
Jester is soft, but molded. She molds herself, smoothing out the cracks and points, smoothing out the damage, smoothing it out. A bit of clay falls off each time. She was small, but she was never small, she had the largest presence ever since she was young, the jester of her own world since even before she chose her name. She had such a small world, such a dollhouse of a world, and she loved it with her whole heart. The dollhouse sat on the floor of her bedroom. She opened every door of that dollhouse, then fled through the balcony.
And this is why they don't speak it aloud. For Beauregard it was never allowed, it was no option, she could not break, she could not splinter and become weak. She could not split her focus. And Jester had been far too honest her entire life, overhearing the most beautiful and most foul honesty from the crack under her mother's bedroom door, never quite learning what honesty really meant to her.
Jester, a name she chose herself, because what more could a person hope for in their life than to make others happy? Jester, because it leaves no room for sorrow. A single comedy mask, the tragedy hiding beneath it. And Beauregard, a name thrust upon her, a name she carried like a weight, balancing all of it while still trying to keep herself whole, trying to defend her heart from those who wished to define or break it. A name she learned to carry with pride, despite its origins, because it was proof to herself that she endured, that she conquered herself. That she is becoming who she is.
Names are important to the two of them. What someone chooses to be called means the world to them, it encapsulates their identity in a sound, in writing, and it is nowhere near accurate.
Beau, Jester likes to call her. Everyone calls her Beau, its easier, shorter, snappier. Jester thinks it sounds more like the woman she knows.
And Beauregard calls her Jes, Jessie, something sweet, something like honey. Something born from flowers, something warm. Something short to throw off the tongue, meaningless until given meaning.
So much of what they do is meaning.
Jokes, offhanded, laughs, brief but so full. So much more left inside, so little spilling over the brims of their mouths. Just enough to show they care. The care itself is kept deep inside, rarely brought out to play. They can feel that care, the warmth flowing between them in the smallest of actions, the gentlest and briefest of touches. They rarely need to mention what they already feel. Beauregard found her strength. Jester found her honesty. They only ever said "I love you" once.
**Author's Note:**
> Wrote this pretty quickly just to get out some feelings on these gals. Absolutely in love with their characters individually and how well they fit together, and I've been thinking on their relationship lately and needed to get something down on paper.
>
> check me out on twitter! @USER |
beb280797ad7412b9228e1d29d0003f3 | ['752c379a746a446e84a41f6b69dec776'] | Jack sighed, slumping his shoulders slightly. He put down the tablet for a moment over his legs, took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, massaging it in a gesture of lost patience.
“Gabriel, stop your Halloween shit and bring your ghosty ass to bed before I make you an actual, permanent ghost.” He deadpanned. Then, at the other side of the bed, Reaper’s form coalesced, already in black sweats and a black t-shirt with a carved pumpkin printed on it.
“Sometimes you are no fun at all, Jackie…” He practically whined, getting in bed beside him.
“You should try harder to scare me if you want for me to be “fun”, as you say”
“Oh, you will see, _ cariño _, you will see…”
Jack just sighed again, turning off the tablet an putting it and his glasses aside in favour of looking at Gabriel. “Please, no property damage to the base…”
Gabriel faked indignation at the accusation, “When have I done that?”
“For Halloween? Do you want the list in alphabetical or chronological order?” He teased him.
“Oh, like you have memory enough to do that.”
He just took Reyes’ pillow and as an answer fake-choked him with it. He ghosted through it, laughing.
“Okay, message gotten, soldier!” He said between laughs still, before giving him a light kiss on the lips, “Good night,_ amor _…” The other returned the kiss and turned off the light.
“Good night, love” He murmured, lying his head on his pillow and burrowing in the blankets. A couple of seconds later a pair of cool arms wrapped around him torso, embracing him.
Yes, Jack Morrison was a haunted man. But he was fine with it.
23. 23. Ancient - Moicy
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> When I went to Ireland some years ago, I discovered this tradition about the Claddagh and thought it was the most beautiful and sappy thing to ever grace the face of Earth. I loved it. And now I bring to you this little story with an Irish woman and her traditions. I'm sorry for the open ending, I will probably continue this line with another prompt from this inktober, but who knows?
As always, enjoy!
Moira was never a traditional sort of woman. But, and there was always a but, she knew that Angela entertained that kind of thing. Hence why she had brought the present that was currently in her pocket.
She was currently waiting for the Swiss doctor to exit her office in her laboratory. Not long ago, Moira had been given her own Blackwatch laboratory in the black operations wing of the headquarters, meaning she didn’t spend as much time with her blonde _ aingeal _ as she would have liked.
As soon as the doctor appeared through the door with a smile to greet her, the Irish woman felt some kind of calmness wash over her. The younger woman walked straight to her and pecked her on the lips for a greeting.
“It is good to see you too, angel” She said in response, straightening herself from her propped up position against a nearby wall. Angela giggled a little and laced her arm with the other’s.
“Shall we?” She asked, looking at Moira with her big blue eyes.
“Of course.”
And like that they went directly for the door and directly for the restaurant where they had already a reservation for lunch.
They were seated and taken their orders. Meanwhile their conversation began with work related subjects, but quickly stirred to lighter subjects for them, like the latest paper published by some idiot doctor or the weirdest theories the had listened that week from their respective teams.
They were well into their second course when the conversation lulled to a stop enough for the geneticist to remember the present she had brought.
“Angela, I brought something for you. But first of all, I do not want you precipitating into any conclusions before I explain myself, alright?”
The woman nodded, “Sure. ‘Vhat is it?”
“It is a ring, more precisely a Claddagh.”
“A ring? I understand you aren’t asking me to marry you, are you?” She joked, to what the geneticist smiled lightly and denied with her head.
“No, I am not. That is why I asked you to not precipitate yourself into thinking anything.” She told her, retrieving said ring from a velvet little bag that was on her pocket and putting it into the doctor’s palm. The ring was a silver band, representing a heart with a crown and two hands clutching it, and though it was shiny and clean, the metal looked battered and old.
“It’s beautiful, Moira. How did you said it ‘vas called?”
“A Claddagh. It comes from an ancient Irish tradition and legend. Apparently, at the end of the XVII century, there was a jeweller who loved a woman that was waiting for him back at Galway. But the man was captured by pirates and sold as a slave, where he remained many years. Story says that even in his predicament he ended gaining the favour of the king, who fourteen years after his enslavement, granted him his freedom once again and offered him the hand of his own daughter in exchange of the man staying as the royal goldsmith. But the man refused, because in his fourteen years of slavery, he only wanted to come back to his woman in Galway. And so he did. The tradition tells that, to commemorate his love tale he designed these rings, the Claddagh. The heart is obviously the love, the crown is the loyalty and the hands are the friendship between the lovers. If you look on the inside you can still see engraved “Let love and friendship reign” which the lesson of the legend.” | 9622311583de4ca6aa7406bd7644c173 | ['752c379a746a446e84a41f6b69dec776'] | Her appearance did never help her much. Her heterocromia was an oddity, that much was clear, but the fact that she always favoured the smart, more manly clothing to dress her soon too tall and lanky form gave her all ki8nds of nicknames, and didn’t exactly collaborate to her fitting into the picture.
Not that she ever wanted to fit in.
Since she noticed other people labeling her as a freak, she took pride on it. Everyone that surrounded her were idiots on her eyes, so why bother trying to be like them?
Easy, they were more.
Too young, Moira saw her naïvité stripped away from her by the constant abuses of her classmates. The day that she only ended up covered in mud or locked with the cows in a barn were the lucky ones. But she never relented. She was a genius, she had more brains than all her classmates and teachers combined, she knew it, and she also knew that probably, when she got the opportunity to flee from her natal Corck to a university in a real city, she would be better, find people that were more like her.
She was wrong.
On her first quadrimester into the genetics degree, in Dublin, she had already been labeled as a disruptive student, prepotent, saying she dressed like a teacher to feel she was more than her peers. The fact that she preferred the female company rather than the male one was only an add on on her long list of oddities.
During her four year endurance of the university campus she actually involved herself with a couple of girls that she shared a couple classes with. She was never very much invested in them romantically speaking, but just saw them as actual friends with a touch of intimacy. But she never really felt those acclaimed butterflies in her stomach or became completely brainless in their presence, as she had seen many other people do throughout the years. Her lack of romantic attachment was always attributed by her to her clear psychopathic tendencies. She thought she could live with that.
But still, it always hurt her when they left. Those girls weren’t assertive enough to actually engage with her on a debate, or stand their ground around her. They were too fragile to handle such a strong character as hers. And so they left, one after another. Leaving her alone time and time again. And if there was even a little piece of innocence and kindness, it was hardened by then.
But this time, she could really manage alone. She had personal challenges to develop. She had work to do.
For the next decade she threw herself into her studies, her work. Even when the world had only showed her distrust and hurt, she still wanted to do right by it. She wanted to help people advance, to develop groundbreaking discoveries that could make the human race better, to improve their life quality. Genetics had that power and more.
But then again, when her discoveries and inventions were shown to the scientific community, she was labeled as a monster. Not ever the people that should have understood her better were able to see eye to eye with her, to really comprehend her thinking and how her work could change their reality for the better. How she only wanted to improve the world for everyone.
She fell in disgrace. Nobody wanted to hire her, to give her patronage for her experiments.
No, not anybody. One day, a crudely looking man, claiming be called Gabriel Reyes, knocked on her door, offering her a job. Blackwatch. A Black Ops branch from the famous Overwatch organisation that had won the Omnic Crisis and now kept world peace. He wanted her to continue with her research, the organisation would finance her, in exchange to acting as the medical officer for the team. It was an offering too tempting to pass up.
The only downside was that she would have to share a laboratory with one of the other high class scientist while some high up authorised the building of her own scientific wing in the headquarters.
Or so she thought it would be a downside.
The first day she got there, as soon as she crossed the threshold of the laboratory, a bright eyed blonde girl came to welcome her with a warm smile and too much candour. She hated her. She was the living image of the perfect dolls everyone had always loved, everything she wasn’t.
But as soon as she started to actually work alongside her, that impression faded quickly. The girl, Angela, was a mind as bright as her own, always working on something, never at rest. She could actually call her on her bullshit, whenever Moira started to throw her intellect around just for the sake of making everyone in the room feel inferior. Angela could debate with her for hours and the irish actually enjoyed her company. She was an equal, and opposite but at the same level as her, the other side of a battered coin as her.
If she had been any less socially nul, she probably wouldn’t have been so surprised when, after an accidental touch in the lab, the skin that had been in contact with the blonde was left tickling and a slightly warm sensation. Or when she discovered smiling after recalling their latest conversation, in the privacy of her quarters.
The geneticist tried to ignore the evidences as long as she could, but finally, she had to admit it at least to herself: she was falling in love with the little angel of mercy that worked with her.
And it hurt. |
010f423ac63d45a49b3e9629e5a1c468 | ['7558cddbb9ac4839800ed544ec4aea23'] |
somebody else
**Author's Note:**
> this displays descriptions of a panic attack!!
it's also based of the song Somebody Else by the 1975, check it out! Hope you enjoy ❤
Bakugou Katsuki was done with this. He couldn’t take it anymore. He looked down at his sweat-filled palms, his forehead beady with sweat drops as well. He was slightly shaking, but not too much to be visible. Anxiety was crawling up his stomach and swirling in circles, as if making a nest in the crooks of his throat, but yet somehow not exactly in it. Right between his throat and in his stomach, yet somehow so apparent in both places. He didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t know what he didn’t want. Everything was so complicated, especially the choices he made around the red-head. They
were so much harder than they used to be. Before he could just hang out with him, like best friends do, being normal. Doing dumb shit. Comforting one another. It was simple, but the simplicity was a good kind of a simple. A relaxing, soothing kind of simple. A simple that you never second-guessed because it was so obvious what it really was, just a close friendship with nothing more.
Until that night, that night Bakugou stayed up a little too late past his usual bedtime, which was around 8:30, and overthought a bunch. Realized a bunch. Yet, he still wouldn’t come to terms with this “bunch” of information he had gathered, and refused to do so. To put it simply, he was madly in love with Kirishima Eijirou for as long as he could remember. And usually you’d be swooning, smitten, the crush absorbing all your feelings and making you feel giddy and happy just being able to interact with said person. You’d think Bakugou would be head over heels happy because lucky for him, he not only gets to interact with Kirishima, but be around him almost 24/7.
This wasn’t even relatively close to the case. Bakugou was absolutely terrified. What if Kirishima where to find out? What if now that Bakugou has somewhat come to terms with the fact that he was in love with him, he’d subconsciously get more touchy and make the other boy uncomfortable? What if he never hung out with him again because he was acting weird? All the what-ifs were floating around in his brain, clawing at the sides of his skull and taking over his senses. Mindless outcomes were swarming around, things that didn’t make any sense at all to the normal person- yet somehow seemed so possible to happen for Bakugou. He hadn’t even realized the salty water pouring from his eyes and the steady hiccups that had begun to escape his mouth until he felt a drop fall onto his arm. He was way to trapped in his thoughts to even remotely be able to think straight, and it’s not like he could see clearly either due to the tears clouding his vision. He wasn’t new to these panic attacks, he’d been having plenty since Kamino. The real problem was usually there was a wide toothy grin welcoming him into his arms, whispering reassuring words. This time, there was just Bakugou, who was too afraid of all these ridiculous outcomes to even get near his best friend right now.
He slowly began to breathe a bit more steadily, yet somehow he was still so worried at the same time. He couldn’t just avoid Kirishima completely, because that would make him upset. Yet somehow it’s not like he could be with him, because he’d probably make him uncomfortable, or maybe even worried. Then he would ask Bakugou what was wrong, and he’d have to lie. (Which Bakugou was terrible at.) He was once again lost in his thoughts when suddenly he was snapped out of it by a loud knock at the door, followed by a small whispered mumble. “Oh, shit! That was really loud-” Bakugou recognized the voice immediately, panic striking him. He must’ve been crying louder than he’d have liked to, and he should’ve known Kirishima would be awake at this hour. “Hey uh, can you open up?” Kirishima said, and you could practically hear the concern behind the door, it was relevant in his voice. Bakugou trembled a little, but his door was unlocked. He knew Kirishima already had this information from countless times before, but was still polite enough to ask permission, despite how worried he was. Bakugou admired him for that, which only made the butterflies more apparent, triggering his anxiety to go haywire once again. It’s not like he didn’t want to be with Kirishima, it’s moreso, he knew Kirishima deserved someone ten times better- and that he wouldn’t be able to treat Kirishima the way he deserved to be treated. He knew Kirishima would be happier with somebody else. The thing is, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself it was better for the red-head, Bakugou hated thinking about him with somebody else. It’s almost as if he was being selfish, not wanting him but at the same time, not being able to stand the idea of him with someone else.
Kirishima sighed. “Bakugou, I’m coming in. You don’t have to be alone when you’re upset, I'm fine with helping you.” Bakugou sniffed, rubbing his arms while leaning back into the pillows behind him. He wasn’t going to be able to stop him now, and he knew that pretty damn well. He sighed as he heard the door lightly creak open to reveal a worried redhead, face almost as if it were dripping with concern. He slowly walked towards the panicked Bakugou, his facial expression crinkling more in worry the closer he got, as he was slowly seeing his panicked face more clearly. “Bakugou…” He said softly, trying to be as calm as possible. Bakugou shivered at his name on the redheads tongue, whimpering subconsciously. Kirishima’s face turned down at the noise, reaching his palm out towards the ashe-blonde. He placed his hand on the boys wet, tear-stained cheek, frowning. “Hey, shhh, it’s okay..” He said, rubbing his thumb softly on the moisture of Bakugou’s cheek. Bakugou sniffed in deep again, looking directly into the red eyes in front of him with his own glossy ones. “What’s wrong?” The redhead started simply, both boys still locking eyes intensely. Bakugou frowned, whimpering again. "I-I.." He started, his nerves rattling up yet again. "Hey." Kirishima's gaze softened. "Whatever it is, you can tell me, alright? I won't judge you." Bakugou nodded, swallowing thickly. He might as well get it over with.
"I'm in love with you." It went dead silent. Kirishima's face looked awe-struck, and Bakugou started to feel a pit digging deep in his stomach. That was, before Kirishima's light laughter started filling the room. This worried Bakugou even more, was he laughing at him? He felt like he was about to cry. "Jeez, don't look so worried dude! I'm laughing because I've been in love with you for like, hah" His face began tinting red, "as long as I can remember. It's kind of insane actually." He scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed from the sudden confession. The ashe-blonde blinked a few times before what was actually happening settled in. As soon as it did, he took no time before grabbing the collar of Kirishima's shirt and pulling him in for a kiss. The other boy looked surprised to say the least, but once he adjusted to what was going on- he returned the kiss with equal passion. Both sat like that for a while, kissing a kiss that they had needed for so long. It was by no means a good kiss, it was sloppy and terrible in so many ways- but for them, it was the best kiss in the world. Nothing would ever compare.
When they finally broke the kiss, both boys stared longingly into each other's eyes, before lying down together and intertwining themselves. Bakugou let out a small but muffled yawn between the cuddles, causing Kirishima to let out a slight giggle. They cuddled tighter, yet this only made the affection softer somehow, both falling asleep in each other's warm embrace.
He wasn't with somebody else.
He was with him.
They were with each other. | fef860ed63c04981b9a660070d5d4e4e | ['7558cddbb9ac4839800ed544ec4aea23'] | late lonesome nights
“Ruby?” A soft voice could be heard from down the hallway, the echo skipping along the walls like a bunny in the fields of newborn spring. Another figure could be seen from across the dark house stirring, placing her hands down on the mattress she had placed herself on keenly, using them to boost her jump as she sprang towards the voice of the other figure. “Yes, Sapphire?” She asked the darkness, her usually rowdy voice now a soft silky string of letters to form the question. She slowly lifted her stubby cherry-red legs, placing them evenly on the wood to be followed with the faintest creak. The Sapphire made her way towards the Ruby as well, her step making a slightly quieter tap due to the smaller- almost dantier, shape of her feet.
The two were usually fused, but some nights they would unfuse when the stirring night was calm. When Steven was asleep in his own comforting sheets, and Pearl and Amethyst were out on missions or simply in their temple rooms, the fusion would break apart like a cookie dipped in milk. Softly and smoothly as if so used to the feeling, though it didn’t happen much, it was like second nature to the two. Even when unfusing they would hold hands desperately, as if not wanting to let go regardless of doing so on purpose. It was nice to physically hold each other tight, to see one another's beautiful features face-to-face rather than being one complete being.
Both were wonderful feelings, but nothing was more authentic than the physical contact they shared. House unawoken, the night asleep, the two would cuddle and share sweet words. The soft touches and love painted words that escaped the two, the quiet giggles not to disturb Steven- that would turn into laughing outbursts of blush covered skin and terrible flirts that somehow, regardless of the unbearable cheesiness, couldn’t have been any better. Everything was perfect, a puzzle completed with only two pieces of blue and red color.
When the sky turned to a faded peach with dazzles of sun-kissed reds and small sparks of orange, they knew it was over yet again. The longing looks filled the twos faces, the longing for more time- more terrible flirts, more kisses and tight hugs, tight enough to break the air in your lungs in the best way possible. The grief didn’t last long though, as they danced in the sunrise. Giggles re-emerging from the hearts of them both. The dancing came as it always did, a simple step dance that broke out into a series of spinning and laughing- and more spinning and more laughing- and soon the two were covered in a glossy white essence.
Being pushed closer and closer, the euphoria almost enough to kill a loving soul, as they became the living form of their love all-together. They’d hear Steven calling to them; wanting to show them something silly- still in his childlike nature regardless of what he’d been though. Garnet would laugh- a stifled one, and move her slick body through the sand. She’d stop for a second to look back at what was once the beautiful sunrise that was now nothing but the bright light of the sun, flaring its rays on the warm beach and all of Beach City as a whole. Steven would tell her to hurry up, and Garnet would respond with “Alright.” and continue on her way to have yet another adventurous day. Not just as Garnet, but as Ruby and Sapphire, two gems to form love and a significant part of the Crystal Gems. |
82be72500fa64e35b12a386aec45b528 | ['75676bdd865d4515aadf627db0103ff6'] | "Oh yes, it started with people who lived near the village entry gates, and it has been slowly pushing those of us who remain closer to the forest behind us. Soon we will have to abandon the village entirely and try our luck in the woods." She sighed, "That is, however, only part of the problem. At night, if you go into those who have disappeared houses, you will see their ghosts walking around and continuing the tasks they were engaged in before they disappeared. As the night wears on, they invariably always end up screaming and pointing at something none of us can see before they fade from view at sunrise. If we are lucky no one else will have disappeared during the night, but we are rarely so fortunate."
"Well it looks like we'll be in for a long evening, so I suggest we all get some sleep while there is still daylight left. Madam Head-woman-"
"Clarice"
"Madam Clarice then, at what time do these ghosts begin to appear?"
"We start to hear them at around midnight, by the time three in the morning comes round we will see ghosts wandering through their former homes."
"Then we will reconvene at ten o'clock tonight and begin to see if we can solve your problem."
"I'll show you to your rooms." Said Clarice as she stood up from the table, and beckoned them once more.
"One room should easily fit us all; we wouldn't want to impose on the village's hospitality more than we already have."
"Nonsense, you travel in mixed company." At this she eyed Natsu and Gray with distrust. "I don't care what you people do while you are in your own homes, but while you stay in mine the men and women will sleep separately." Natsu blinked and looked at Lucy and Erza, then at the head-woman confused.
"Why would sleeping with Erza and Lucy be a problem? We always sleep together on missions."
"It's improper!"
"Sleeping with Lucy and Erza is improper?"
"YES!"
"Well that's just stupid!" he huffed and crossed his arms. "It's not like I want to kiss either of them, that'd be like kissing my sisters."
"That's beside the point!" Clarice was positively red and puffing. Natsu apparently got under her skin pretty easily. She walked them down a short hallway and pointed at two small rooms at the end. "This is unfortunately the best we can do for you, most of the villagers have evacuated to this side of town and the houses are filling up fast." Opening the doors to both rooms and stood, her foot tapping impatiently. "I'll leave as soon as I see that you four separate."
"Oh come on Lady!" Gray's voice sounded exasperated even to his own ears. "We're just going to bed!" but the head-woman would not be deterred and the four grudgingly separated and shut the doors to their prospective rooms.
Erza would have spoken up about the ridiculousness of the head-woman's request when it came to the four full grown adult wizards who were about to try to solve their village mystery. However, the thought of being forced to share a room with Lucy, so soon after they had kissed was causing her to panic. Panic coursed through her veins like ice water, and it did not help that the bed they were to share would barely fit two people comfortably together. Indeed, those two people would need to be perfectly fine with sleeping in very intimate circumstances.
"I'm not ready for this, not ready for this at all." She turned and saw Lucy staring at the bed as well, her eyes wide. They had slept together on many occasions, and while it was now clear that they both shared romantic inclinations towards one another, it began the make being a part of the same team complicated.
"Well, here we are. On a mission." The words left Lucy's lips with a slight quaver.
"Yes, a mission!" Erza replied a bit over loud. Both women turned and looked at each other and laughed nervously. "Well, er, I will sleep on the floor." She glanced down at the hard wooden surface, and resigned herself to a sore awakening.
"No, I can sleep on the floor." Like Erza, Lucy looked less than thrilled at the prospect, but unwilling to suggest sharing a bed with Erza. They both eyed one another, nervous, and trying to ignore the bed, which now seemed to loom over them, daring the two to choose between confused and uncomfortable snuggling and sleeping on the floor.
"I think this is silly." Erza tried to steady her breathing as she turned requiping out of her armor into the clothing beneath. Her hands shook as she placed them on Lucy's shoulders, and spoke once more. "It’s close quarters, and now that we both know how we feel about one another…this is just a very uncomfortable situation. I do not want you to take this the wrong way Lucy, but I do not want to be physically intimate with you 3 hours after we first kissed." Lucy covered her mouth stifling a laugh as she looked into Erza's serious, and reddened, face. | 6bd84c0395a6400caa3ff683f6907940 | ['75676bdd865d4515aadf627db0103ff6'] | "What? Damn it!" he hurriedly began to search for clothing along the roadside. With luck, he wouldn't have left them too far back. His departure, however, left Erza with the problem of finishing the last part of the journey, alone, with Lucy. They walked in complete silence, the scraping of their shoes on the dry earth the only sound either woman seemed to want to exchange. They came closer, and closer to the bend in the road, and Erza glancing back once more at the silent Lucy, decided then and there that she had to at least say something to end the animosity that hung as thick as the heat of the day around them.
"I didn't mean to hurt you on the train, and…" here she paused, this would be a tough confession and an end to the vain hope she held of ever being with her friend romantically. Swallowing hard, she pushed on, and her voice thankfully remained steady. "In addition would also like to say how very sorry I am that I mistook your trust for invitation, and tried to kiss you. I now understand how mistaken I truly was in believing that it was something that you wanted as well." There, it was out in the open now; she exhaled heavily as if she had run a great distance bracing for the fallout that was sure to come.
"Wait…you tried to kiss me back there on the train?" Erza stopped and turned, her face for once, betraying her discomfort as she nodded. It was even worse than she had suspected, Lucy had no idea that Erza had even tried to kiss her, and thus was angry at her for some other inextricable reason.
"Ah…I see. You did not realize. I am doubly sorry then as I have effectively tried to take advantage of a friend when they were weak." She turned around again to continue their journey, unable to meet Lucy’s eye due to shame and embarrassment. This day had gone from bad to horrendous rather quickly in her estimation. Suddenly she felt a tug on her hand, Lucy's slim fingers had slid through her own and were now holding tightly, seeming to ignore the hot metal gauntlet that encased it.
"No, um, I thought that I was the one trying to kiss you." Not believing that she had heard her friend correctly Erza faced her friend, who on closer inspection was obviously flustered.
"Wait, what did you say?" her face had suddenly become entirely too hot, not related in any way to the summer heat. Lucy seemed to gather up her courage to talk and opened her mouth several times, cheeks red, before she finally spoke once again.
"You were so close, and I figured I might as well try, and I thought maybe you might want to kiss me too. But then," at this her voice gained a slight edge "you had to start talking about how incompetent I am again. So I assumed I imagined it."
"No! I didn't—I mean you didn't—Lucy," she took a deep breath. "Are you saying, I mean, am I right in assuming, that you think I am attractive?" her voice cracked, and she hoped that she still retained the cool air of stoicism she usually exuded.
"Well yeah, I do Erza. So I hope it's okay to assume that the feeling is mu-" Lucy didn't get to finish that sentence as Erza had swiftly grabbed her at the words ‘I do 'and pulled her close, her lips soon pressed against Lucy's own. The heat of the day no longer seemed oppressive. If anyone had asked Erza at that very moment about the weather, she would have replied after several minutes of wistful reminiscence, that the weather and the day were simply gorgeous.
It seemed as if the kiss lasted for hours; it might have been closer to five or ten minutes, it was sadly not to last as Happy chose that exact moment to come flying full speed, holding Natsu by the arms and in his surprise crashing directly into the two oblivious women.
That's how Gray found the lot of them several minutes later; all four sprawled on the ground looking as if they'd been run over by one of those fancy magic powered cars.
"What happened?" he asked while pulling his pants on and walking towards them his eyebrows high in astonishment. Natsu groaned and held his head wincing.
"Happy and me were coming back to get you guys, and crashed into Erza and Lucy. I don't know why they were just standing in the middle of the road like that." He turned to look down at Happy who looked absolutely terrified, trembling from the tips of his small blue ears to his tiny feet. Natsu poked him several times in the side, receiving no response. "Hey little buddy what's wrong? Cat got your tongue? HA cat!" he grinned, finding his own joke quite clever. Happy on the other hand, only had eyes for Erza, who was now helping Lucy up while glaring with murderous intent at him and Natsu.
"Erza's going to kill me!" he wailed as he dove to hide behind Natsu. Happy had seen it all before they crashed, it had in fact, been the reason he had lost control and collided head first into the girls.
"What? No she isn't! I mean look at her, does she look mad to…..you…" Natsu gulped, realizing, now that he had a proper look at her, that his friend did look like would indeed murder Happy and possibly himself as well. Erza seemed ready to tear the two into many small pieces. With a long-suffering sigh, Gray zipped his fly, and moved to stand between the Scarlet haired woman, and the petrified Natsu and Happy. |
bcc6621224b640fc94618ef35e906fed | ['7569c6b764f347e2a74fb284b0128a35'] | "You asked me. It's only fair that I ask you."
Joe pulls at the ends of his sleeves and stares at the wall like it'll somehow melt if he glares hard enough. He crosses his arms over his midriff and huffs. "Fine..." he moves his gaze to the bed and continues in a quiet voice. "I do. I think I always have."
"Well, isn't that adorable."
They both snap their attention to the new voice in the room and find Pete staring at them. He's leaning against the bunks across the isle with a smirk on his face, and Andy wants to shove his teeth down his throat because he looks so _smug_ , like he's _proud of himself_ for listening to their conversation.
Andy's about to retort when Pete cuts him off. "Looks like I'm not the only one with a celebrity crush."
Both of their mouths drop open, and they scream _"WHAT?"_ so loud that the bus practically shakes. Pete staggers back in surprise, his calm façade falling, before he regains his composure and grins. Andy and Joe scowl at him, but he hardly seems fazed by it. If anything, it only boosts his ego.
"The hell do you want, asshole?" Joe demands, hands curling into fists in the sheets.
"Joe, you wound me," Pete slaps a hand over his heart dramatically. "I was just wondering what's got you both so tense."
"We have every right to be tense, Pete," Andy says defensively. "Tonight's probably going to decide the future of the band, and we only just came back. Of course we're tense."
Pete's features soften. "Yeah," he says, voice soft. "I know."
"Then why are you still here?" Joe asks, obviously not satisfied with Pete's answer.
"Because..." Pete scuffs his shoe on the carpet and looks away, his shoulders hunching. "Because I needed to know if you guys felt the same way I do."
Andy's brows knit together in confusion. "What do you mean?"
Pete laughs softly. Andy's heart drops to his feet, through the bus and onto the road when he gets his answer.
"You're not the only ones who want to kiss him, y'know."
No one can speak. Andy's mind is blank and full all at once. He feels goosebumps rise on his arms and his mouth drops open slightly. He shakes his head, as if that will somehow change what he just heard, as if it will stop all of this from crashing down on him.
Pete's answer changes nothing and everything.
Because no matter what, tonight will decide the future.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Just finish reading Queen Of Shadows by Sarah J. Maas and oof, my heart. Sarah is definitely my favorite author, I recommend her series Throne Of Glass (Queen of Shadows is the 4th book in the series). She's a gorgeous writer and her ideas are both brilliant and unique. I need to read the next book immediately!
7. The Earth Starts To Crumble And The Heavens Roll Away
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> I'm struggling to exist with you, and without you.
>
> TW for brief mentions of self-harm and several references to abuse and abusive relationships.
"We're getting dinner, you coming?"
Patrick's head snaps up from his novel and he yells out a quick 'yeah' before putting his bookmark in place and tugging on his shoes. He's still wearing his hoodie, but it's so cold he throws on a jacket over it. He doesn't understand how Andy can survive with just a sweater, but he doesn't mind. It's easier to see the bulge of his muscles through the thin material, and Patrick spends most of the walk through the parking lot of Applebee's staring at them. He flushes dark red and suddenly finds the dirt on his shoes very interesting when Pete catches him looking. The bassist smirks and pats Patrick on the shoulder, a twinkle in his eyes.
The place on his cheek where Pete had touched him this morning feels like a brand as his gaze lingers on the back of Pete's head.
Within a few minutes, his attention is dragged to a menu. He orders something small; between the butterflies in his stomach and the possibility that this morning's events could repeat themselves at any given time, he doesn't think he'll be able to eat a large meal. He's rather surprised to find that the other three men choose similarly; normally they'll all be wolfing down plate after plate, and Patrick will eventually tire of their teasing and join them. He'd lost weight via portion control, and he doesn't want to put it on again. He'd promised to himself that he would stay thin.
His promise, like most others, has broken.
He's noticed the extra pounds he's gained since Fall Out Boy started writing again, and he hates himself. He rakes his eyes over the bodies of his friends enviously, wishing he could look at least a little more like that. Handsome, likeable, _actually fucking attractive._ Not some sweaty bald dude who finds, every other morning, that his jeans have failed to reach above his thighs. He can feel the waist of his pants cutting into his hips, and it hurts. _If you hadn't been such a pig,_ his mind hisses, _you wouldn't have a problem._
He's only just finished his plate when Joe stands. "I'm going to the bathroom," he says quickly, and then he's gone.
Andy and Pete both turn to look at him. They've finished their food already, so they must've been waiting for him. His mind darkens at the thought, and he reminds himself that the razorblade in his bunk is there for a reason. He deserves it, he's convinced himself, with a little bit of help from someone he would rather not think about right now. He'll have to go back to them when the tour is over, he knows, but again, he's letting himself have this. | e5281e5e41e8424a8eb24b3ae5ea9b07 | ['7569c6b764f347e2a74fb284b0128a35'] | **Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thanks so much for the support guys! I really appreciate the comments and kudos.
>
> Also fun fact; Gable means tax collector.
> Another fun fact; guess who just dyed their hair turquoise!
11. Your Head Can Be a Prison
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> These are just conjugal visits.
>
> TW yet again for references to abuse and abusive relationships.
"What the fuck happened to you?!"
The words are muffled by the damp pillow over his head, pressing into his ears as if it will help to block out any sound, but obviously it's not effective. He grits his teeth and slams his foot down in anger, the dull thud satisfying his fire just a smidge. It immediately ignites when his toe collides with the wall, and he cries out as it throbs. He decides that discovering the source of the shouting is more fulfilling than lying in bed with a stubbed toe and throws the pillow to the floor, landing on it seconds later. The ripple of pain from his ankles is grounding, in a weird sort of way so unlike the trivial injury in his foot. He wipes at his eyes and face before dragging himself to the door, taking care not to slip on the pillow.
He slides the door open slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible. It's not hard to be stealthy when the drummer is screaming louder than he thought possible. He looks around in confusion, taking in Patrick's wide eyes, Andy's furious expression and Joe's inability to act for the amount of shock he feels. Andy's grabbing Patrick by the collar, shaking him and shouting.
He clears his throat.
"What the hell is going on?" He demands loudly, glaring at Andy.
"Pete, what happened to Patrick?!" The drummer shouts back, fists clenched.
Pete's brows narrow in confusion. "The fuck are you talking about?"
"He's got a fucking bruise on his cheek, Pete! It looks like someone punched him!"
He immediately regrets leaving when Patrick had asked him to. There's only one person who could've done this.
Patrick tries to wiggle out of Andy's grip, hands pulling and tugging at his wrists, and when the drummer finally lets go he scrambles back. Joe places a gentle hand on his back, stroking idly.
It's an oddly intimate moment.
But Pete has to break it up.
"It was Gable, wasn't it?"
Patrick freezes. The hand leaves his back.
"He hurt you."
"No!" Patrick yells, shaking his head wildly. "I fell over! That's it! Gable didn't do anything, Pete, he just came to visit."
Pete frowns. "He talked about you like you were trash, and now you come back from seeing him and you've got a bruise. I don't think he was just visiting, Patrick."
"He was! He just wanted to-to see how I was doing a-and asked what the tour was like so far."
Pete walks forward, stepping around the table, and grabs Patrick's shoulders firmly. He reaches out to grip his chin, to look him in the eyes, but Patrick flinches away as though he's been burned. He raises his arms in front of him, as if to shield himself from a blow. He's shaking violently, chest heaving.
"Patrick," Pete murmurs his name, keeping his hands where Patrick can see them. "'Trick, please. Tell the truth."
"I-I am," he whispers. "I really am."
"No, you're not."
Pete slowly, carefully extends his hands. He cups Patrick's cherubic face and finally meets his eyes. They're dark and lined with silver, pupils blown.
"You don't have to hide."
Patrick breaks.
His face caves in as he lets out a strangled sound, and then he's bawling, tears sliding over Pete's knuckles and down his arms. His face is red and his eyes are squeezed shut, but the rivers are relentless as they cover his cheeks. His nose begins to run, and he sniffles amidst his gasps for breath. His breathing is erratic and uneven as he sucks in air like a vacuum. It doesn't seem to reach his lungs, doesn't seem to let him breathe, and soon he's hyperventilating right there in front of Pete.
The older man panics. "Patrick?" He shouts frantically. "'Trick?!"
With a gut-wrenching sob, Patrick's eyes snap open. They're glassy and unfocused, darting around the room rapidly. His hands reach out, searching for something to cling to, something to ground himself with, so Pete reaches down and takes them in his own. He squeezes tightly, relieved when Patrick gives a tiny squeeze back. He kneels and catches Patrick's eyes.
"Hey, hey, don't worry," he says, voice barely above a whisper. He can feel Andy and Joe's stares burning into his back, but Patrick is the center of his universe right now. "It's okay, you're okay. No one's gonna hurt you."
The words seem to trigger something in Patrick.
He lunges forward and grabs Pete tightly, fisting his shirt and hiding his face in his chest. There's a shaky intake of breath, and then he's speaking so quickly it takes Pete a moment to understand. "It was him, it was him the entire time, it was all him, you're right, you were always right."
"Oh, God, 'Trick," he breathes. He holds Patrick close, grabbing his hair. He's about to say something else, but Patrick's not done yet.
"Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he wails, words muffled by Pete's shirt. "He loved me, he said he loved me and then he hit me and I couldn't, I couldn't fight back and he hurts me so much, Pete, so much, _I'm so scared-"_
"Patrick," Pete cuts him off. He pulls back, forcing Patrick to look at him. The younger man is reluctant to let go, and even when he moves his face away he keeps his hands on Pete's back. "Listen to me, okay? I really need you to hear what I'm going to say."
Patrick nods. |
fe6b7eba9947473494d42f7c7f3fcdc3 | ['758400e0ed0142708e7b8f6a075d2e5b'] | Hux had no idea what had overcome him. He sat outside the imposing brick mansion in a part of town he had no business in. Ben’s books and a list of his homework assignments was sitting on the passenger seat of Hux’s car. He had to take the stuff inside. Maybe he could just hand it off to Ben’s mother and not have to see Ben at all. He flushed with embarrassment thinking of how he’d brought himself off to that disgusting tape. Hux had tried to put that episode aside and not think about it too much, but his sore knuckles and the hole in his drywall reminded him of that night. He took a deep breath and got out.
He had a hard time making it up the ridiculously long sidewalk to the front door, and an even more difficult time finding the doorbell from behind the pile of books. He pushed it, and waited, trembling on the doorstep.
He could hear footsteps coming to the door, but they definitely weren’t Ben’s. To his surprise, it was Rey, Ben’s younger sister who answered. She stood there wearing a pair of way-too short shorts, and a tank top that left little to the imagination. Rey was only 14 and shouldn’t be dressed like that. If she was Hux’s sister, he would make sure she wasn’t. But he didn’t have a dog in that fight. She chewed her gum obnoxiously and stared at him.
“What the fuck do you want?” she asked.
“I have Ben’s homework.” Hux replied.
“Oh, yeah, take it upstairs. He’s in bed.”
Rey turned and walked away.
“I, um, can I just leave it here?” Hux asked hopefully.
“No, take it up to his room,” Rey answered, turning around and plopping down on the sofa. She picked up the tv controller and started flipping through the channels.
Hux stood there stupidly, looking back and forth from her to the stairway.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Rey asked.
“Which room is his?” Hux’s mouth was so dry he was having trouble forming coherent words.
“First one on the left at the top of the stairs,” Rey yawned and settled back on the cushions.
Hux started up the steps, cursing himself for ever offering to do this. What in the blue fuck had he been thinking? He stopped at the top. Ben’s door was directly in front of him. He would have been able to find it without any help from Rey. There was a sign on it that said, “Keep the Fuck out!” and it was plastered with stickers from Ben’s favorite basketball team. Hux could hear music playing inside. He was surprised that it was his favorite song, “Alone in a Room,” by Asking Alexandria. He waited a moment, tried to gather his courage, then knocked.
“Go away, Rey!” Ben’s muffled voice came through the door.
Hux knocked again.
“I said go the fuck away Rey! Are you deaf?”
“Its not Rey,” Hux called, hoping his voice was loud enough to be heard over the music.
There was a shuffling noise, and the music turned off, then Ben’s loud footsteps shaking the floor as he neared the door.
Hux took another steadying breath. He could do this. He had to do this. It was too late to turn back. He swallowed hard as Ben unlocked the door, then opened it.
4. Chapter 4
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Ben and Hux have a strained conversation, Hux has to accept the inevitable. Then a time jump ahead 14 years to see what our lovely red head has done with his life.
[](http://tinypic.com?ref=25t8aab) [](http://tinypic.com?ref=wnz34)
Hux stepped back, expecting Ben to lunge at him or push him over, but Ben just stared at him, obviously confused.
“Hux? What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I um… I brought your homework and books. I was in the office when your mom called the school today. The secretary asked me…”
“Oh, well aren’t you the lucky one, then.”
Ben opened the door all the way and stepped back so Hux could come in. “Just drop them on my dresser,” Ben gestured to the side, and Hux laid everything down as quickly as he could, then turned and glanced around the room.
Ben’s room was painted dark blue and had silver grey curtains and matching bedding. The carpet was beige, and there was nothing hanging on the walls. It looked more like a hotel room than a bedroom. The overlarge stereo system in one corner and a pile of laundry were the only things that made it seem like someone was living in that space. Ben walked over and sat down on his bed, dropping his head. He spoke so quietly that Hux almost didn’t hear him.
“So, how much money do you want?”
“W…What?” Hux stammered. “What do you mean? You’re going to pay me for bringing you your homework?”
Ben looked up, his normally arrogant expression, cold and sad. He looked like someone who had given up on life and was just waiting for the end to come. It chilled Hux to the bone.
“You were the one that pulled the fire alarm. I know you saw everything. I know that’s why you’re here now. So, how much money do you want to keep quiet about it?”
Hux stumbled, and almost fell over the pile of dirty clothes. He grabbed the dresser to keep from falling, and Ben’s books clattered to the floor.
“Just tell me already!” Ben cried, jumping to his feet. “What is it that you want?”
“I… I don’t want anything!” Hux said, backing away as Ben advanced toward him. “I pulled the alarm to make him stop. It was the only thing I could think to do.”
Ben stood directly in front of him. Hux’s back was against the dresser. Ben’s eyes were full of tears and his lower lip was quivering slightly.
“Please just tell me?” Ben begged. | a9faacc5f9634b459511d1960d55c18c | ['758400e0ed0142708e7b8f6a075d2e5b'] | Rey pops the meatloaf into the oven and sets the timer, then peels potatoes and sets them on the stove to boil. Now she has some time. She heads off to her bedroom, pulls her secret box from under the bed and takes out her journal. She keeps all her most precious things in this box. She has lots of pictures of Daddy when he is sleeping. She loves to go into his room late at night and tug the blankets down. He sleeps in his boxer briefs. She waits until she knows he is deep under, then takes the pictures. She can look at them anytime she wants. She looks at them after she goes to bed. She looks at them when she touches herself. She picks up her pen and starts to write.
Dear Journal,
I hate the way other girls talk about their Dad’s like they hate them or something. I know the way I feel about mine isn’t natural. I can’t help it. I love to just sit and look at him, the way the light catches in his long, curly, black hair. I like the fine lines around his big, dark eyes. I think he has the most perfectly shaped mouth that I have ever seen on a real person. Not to mention his incredible body. The man is built! It amazes me that he thinks he’s ugly. He talks about his nose being too big, his jaw being crooked, having too many moles and birthmarks, being bow-legged. He slouches so much because he’s tall and he thinks it makes him look like a freak. I wish I could convince him that he is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I like to watch him at night when he thinks I’m asleep. If I position myself just right at the edge of his door, I can look around it without him seeing me. He hates closed doors. He always waits till he thinks I’m sleeping, then he leans back against the pillows and slips his hand down the front of his boxers. He pulls out his lovely cock. It is so perfect, so big, cut and thick. I watch closely the way he touches himself. I want to remember how he likes it so when I get the chance to show him how good I can be for him, I will be able to do it right. I love the way he wrecks himself with his hand. His head tilts back against the headboard, his mouth opens slightly, he licks his lips (shudders) and it makes me so hot. He thumbs the tip, spreading the precum around. I can almost taste it. I slip my hand down my panties and touch my clit, pretending it’s him touching me. I watch him pump his cock, watch the head getting red, angry, then watch him as he cums. He is so lovely when he breaks. He always bites his lip to keep from moaning. I know he doesn’t want me to know what he does when he’s alone. If he only knew it is the stuff of my dreams. He wipes the cum off his chest with one of his t-shirts and then turns off the light.
I took his Nirvana t-shirt. I told him I was putting it in the laundry, but instead, I put it in my secret box. It’s still there, his dried cum on it. I wanted to smell him. I take it out and press it to my nose when I touch myself sometimes. He’s still looking for it and swears someone stole it from the laundry basket when he was in the basement doing laundry. LOL. If he only knew. I really can’t stand this anymore. I’m too old to sit on his lap and wriggle until I feel him get hard. I could do that when I was little, and he never thought I was being bad. If I did it now. He’d be suspicious. I take every opportunity to be close to him, to touch him, to steal kisses from him. I walk in on him in the shower and pretend it was a mistake, I parade around in my panties and a tank top and watch him watching me, but he never does anything. This is maddening! I am in a constant state of arousal and nothing helps anymore. This can’t go on much longer. I’m losing my mind. Why do I feel this way? Is there something wrong with me? They said Mom was crazy. I don’t think she was. She was just a stupid cow, too pretty to be smart. I got rid of her. I got rid of all Daddy’s girlfriends. It’s just us now. Like it should be. Just like it should be…Gotta go. Daddy’s home!
“Hey baby girl! Supper smells delicious!” Ben walks in and drops his briefcase on the coffee table, loosens his tie and slips it over his head and shucks off his suit jacket. “Did you have a good day?”
Rey walks out into the living room in one of Ben’s t-shirts and a thong. The t-shirt is long enough to cover her, but it’s a white shirt, and her thong is black. She leans over the couch to pick up Ben’s tie and her breasts are clearly visible through the neck of the t-shirt. “Did you win your case, Daddy?” she asks, putting the tie and his jacket on the end table.
“I sure did!” Ben gushed. “It was in the bag!”
“Oh, Daddy I knew you’d win!” Rey ran around the couch and threw herself into Ben’s arms, jumping up and wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. She pushed the crotch of her panties against the zipper of his dress pants and held on tightly. “You always win.” She leaned back to look up into his eyes. |
0c9844bc35704d54aeda0993a4fb156f | ['758addd9c89c43c59f2d824c14cc30eb'] | Ten minutes
**Author's Note:**
> Well, English isn't my first language, so you are going to find mistakes.
Jon grunted, dropping into one of the chairs in his trailer and leaning back his body. With his eyes fixed on the ceiling, he began to breathe deeply and conscientiously, feeling how with each exhalation the tremble of his body and the hardness between his legs faded. A crimson tinge crossed his cheeks, the product of shame and arousal. Mentally, he reproduced the scene they had just filmed, the sensations, and the effort it took for him to stick to the script. He covered his face with his hands and growled, furious with himself and the absurd ideas thought he had buried.
When he found out that he would work again with Tom Holland, he feared this would happen, then read the script, studied the interactions and relaxed. Nothing written there favored a tension like the one generated between them during the filming of Pilgrimage. There was something suggestive in Diarmuid's relationship with the Mute, a platonic affection that holds certain sexual connotation, and that had put inappropriate ideas in his head. Never a job had cost him as much energy like that one, until now.
He visualized Tom's face enraged, the glassy eyes, the firm line of his lips to contain the cry of impotence. The script indicated that he should not be moved, that he should stay indifferent to what the child had to say to him, the father who did not want to be. Bernthal needed all his will to contain the impulse to hold him, to kiss his cheeks, his eyelids. Caress him... He cleared his throat. His cock was swollen again, the blood rushing towards the middle part of his body to form a bulge impossible to cover. He took a swig of water, resigned. He could wait for the erection to go down, but at any moment one of the assistants would knock on the door of his trailer to resume the filming. Instead, jacking off would not take more than a few minutes, as worked up as it was.
He settled into place, unbuckled his belt and unfastened the front of the jeans, hips lifting to remove it along with his underwear, but only enough to discover his dick and testicles. Jon cup his balls, sensing its rough texture and the weight of his arousal. He bit his lower lip. When he finally circled the base of his prick with his fingers, it occurred to him that Tom's would be softer. Strong, but definitely softer. No calluses due to the use of dumbbells. He collected saliva in his mouth and let it slide in a thick thread over the head of his cock; spread it with the palm of his hand, wetting the shaft in all its extension. He drew a circle on the glans and formed a tunnel that could penetrate with a fluid movement, slowly. He exhaled a moan that filled the room.
Startled, Bernthal opened his eyes and stopped for a few seconds to listen carefully, holding his breath, but no sound reached the inside of his trailer. He laughed to himself, feeling ridiculous for being alert as a teenager. So, relaxing in the seat, he bites a portion of the neck of his shirt to muffle any noise he might make.
Still hard as a rock, Jon moistened his hand again to resume the strokes with an even more vicious grip. He gasped, imagining Holland's urgent expression, kneeling between his legs and asking him to fuck his face. He wanted to feel the head of his cock hitting the back of his throat, taking his breath away... He closed his eyes tightly, hurrying the movement of his hand. The black cotton fabric that filled his mouth was soaked. He felt the heat like lava swirling in his stomach, his ass twitching for attention, but before he could do anything about it, someone knocked on his door and Tom's voice calling his name made him explode.
-Jon?
He barely managed to cover his dick with his left hand to contain the outburst.
-One minute.
He answered in a strangled voice, as he stood up to look for something to clean himself with. He decided there was no point in returning to the set with the shirt he was wearing, considering the dark wet stain on his chest. He rubbed his palms on it and took it off, throwing it into a corner carelessly. He zipped up his pants and hurried to open the door.
Holland was waiting for him, rocking on his heels to the rhythm of a song that hummed under his breath. When he saw Jon, the boy smiled and pocketed his phone to focus all his attention on the older one. As he did so, he noticed the agitated breathing, the thin layer of sweat on Bernthal's forehead and naked torso, his jeans still unbuttoned.
-They asked me to let you know that we continue in 10 minutes.
The man nodded, disappeared for a moment and came back wearing a lumberjack shirt, adjusting his belt and apologizing for the waiting. Tom shrugged off and started walking towards the set, anticipating the weight of a hug on his shoulders and the heat that Jon's body radiated permanently. Also, he perceived an intoxicating and unmistakable musky scent that filled his senses. | 32858ca5c92745baacabcf3841f08e17 | ['758addd9c89c43c59f2d824c14cc30eb'] | Dancing In The Street
That night, Will goes to Steve’s house.
Like usual, Joyce had the night shift, and since Jonathan wasn’t around for college, the little Byers was under the care of Harrington. Even with 14 years old, Will prefers not been left alone.
Given that no one of his friends was available as for a sleepover, it had to be Steve. Although the young man babysitting him wasn’t strange, Byers still feels like a bother. He says ‘thank you’ and 'sorry’ too much and the other brush it off every time but in a kindly way.
Will likes Steve.
He came to his life as another big brother, but without Jonathan’s overprotective attitude, and a slightly different point of view that was refreshing.
So, yes. Will likes Steve, and that’s why he accepts goes to Harrington’s:
-For a change -the other had said-.
It wasn’t the first time that it was just the two of them, but it seemed. In the Byers’ house, Will stays in his room until Steve calls dinner. During, they chat a little about Star Wars or meaningless things; at the end, the teenage boy helps Harrington with dishes and then rushes again to his dorm.
Tonight, instead, was different.
The young man ordered pizza and in the meanwhile, sits at the coffee table with the kid and doodle Chewbaccas; asking him for drawing advice. Will complies, and assures Steve that he’ll improve as long as he keeps practicing.
After supper, and once the ThunderCats episode is over, Harrington leads Byers to another room with a record player that catches Will’s attention immediately. He inspects the racks full of vinyl. It was more pop than his brother collection, but David Bowie and Mick Jagger latest single was there, so the boy doesn’t hesitate.
Steve smiles at him playfully when the catchy rhythm starts to play, and just when Jagger’s voice began to resound through the speakers; Harrington does the playback, and the rolling stone’s crazy moves.
Will laughs loudly, but quickly joins him with a jump in the first Bowie’s verse. Soon, they are singing his throats off and dancing around, replaying the song over and over again until Steve needs to pause the record to catch his breath.
Byers holds back a comment, but Harrington knows better and points an accusatory finger at him:
-Your eyes betray you!
He says it without real anger, a little upward curve at the corner of his mouth. Will smiles back and use the break to retrieve to the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes go by, and Steve starts to wonder about the little one. He calls for him but doesn’t get a response and an unsettling feeling sets in his chest. Getting up from the couch, the young man walks straight to the toilet, noticing the open door and the clacking of small objects.
-Will?
Harrington gets close to the door frame and releases a long sigh when he finally finds the teen. Over the counter of the sink, uncountable brushes, bright-color shadows, strident blushers and other makeup stuff were on display. Byers turns to look at him with a storm of emotions swirling in his bright eyes: anxiety, embarrassment, longing.
Steve grins with warm and gets the idea.
-You’re right. We must do this properly.
In a blink of an eye, the young man goes and returns with a few magazines, splaying them on the floor, showing photos of Mick Jagger and Ziggy Stardust, the most iconic Bowie’s alter ego.
Will is so stunned that he can only stare.
Harrington gives him a moment to regain composure and went ahead choosing the products that he considered appropriate for the task. He picked a black mascara, black eyeliner pencil and a light blue one, pink shadow, and also pink blusher. Looking at the photo once more, Steve hesitates:
-What do you think we should use for the lightning bolt?
Finally, the boy came out of his daze:
-Red or orange lipstick -shyly, Will takes a tube from the counter-. This one.
Steve nods and puts it next to the rest of the selected makeup.
-Alright! And what about Jagger? He doesn’t use much, but I want some eyeliner myself.
By then, Byers was totally into it. The small smile lingering on his young face revealed it:
-I recall a picture of him with bold eyeliner and a crystal gem at the end, but we can paint it with metallic colored eyeliner.
Steve hums and chooses the pink one, along with a dark shadow and a nude lip pencil. Then, he clapped and rubbed his hands:
-Ready for the transformation? Also, my little friend, you will need a lot of gel and Farrah Fawcett’s spray for this look.
As a response, Will nodded eagerly. |
7bb89e2dd30946e8be58870356c69241 | ['75a1ffffdc64460eb3cefa7d8b3f98ec'] |
1. Why can't I just play my game?
**Author's Note:**
> So, this is my first multi-chap story and my first one for Haikyuu!! I love cheerleading (I'm a flyer) and so I thought why not have them do it too. Hopefully you guys like it!!! I'll try to update regularly but I work 40 hours a week and practice when I don't so we'll see how it goes! Oh, and while I don't have a dedicated beta, my friends and coworkers love proofreading my work.
>
> PS: KuroKen and TsukiYama are my favorite ships ever so I hope I do them justice!!!
Kenma pushed her long ombre hair off her shoulder as she lifted her 3DS closer to her face. A Pokemon battle had just begun on the screen and she was sending out her strongest team. Just as she was about to release her first attack a loud voice shouted, “Kenma-chan! Watch out!” She looked up, just in time to be knocked to the ground by another girl with bright orange hair. “Ouch…” The girl said, eyes widening as she realized she had just tackled her quiet friend. “I’m sorry Kenma-chan, I was running too fast again.” She rubbed the back of her head in embarrassment.
“It’s…fine,” Kenma said, frowning as she noticed the blood running down her right knee. “Do you have a band-aid by any chance, Shoyo? And you can drop the chan, it’s unnecessary.” The orange haired girl perked up upon hearing her name but deflated again upon seeing the other’s scrapped knee.
“You’re hurt. I’m really sorry.” Shoyo reached into her bag and pulled out a box of bright pink band-aids. She took one out and handed it to Kenma. Suddenly her eyes lit up again. “Oh! Kenma-chan, I was actually looking for you! The cheerleading team needs more people on it!” Kenma’s cat-like golden eyes which had previously been focused on placing the garish colored band-aid on her knee, snapped up to the orange haired girl’s face.
“No. Too many people. Too” Kenma shuddered lightly, “cheery.”
“Nah, you’d be great at it! You’re already super athletic, you’d just need to learn the technical stuff.”
“Too much smiling.” Kenma, having cleaned up her leg, stood and brushed off her uniform skirt. “Not interested.” She was about to walk away when two small hands attached themselves to her ankle.
“Please Kenma!!! We really need more people. Daichi-san said our club is gonna close if we don’t!” She was looking up at Kenma with big watery brown eyes.
“I don’t know anything about cheerleading!” Kenma was getting annoyed now but she could also feel her resolve wavering.
“It’s not that hard and we have a ton of people who can teach you! Please Kenma-chan, you know I don’t ask for a lot.” Kenma rolled her eyes at that. Shoyo asked for literally everything. But she couldn’t deny the girl when she looked so pitiful right?
“I’ll watch. Then we’ll see.” Shoyo’s eyes sparkled with glee.
“Really?!” At Kenma’s hesitant nod, she jumped to her feet with a giant grin. “Kageyama, did you hear that?! I found someone before you did! Ha-Ha! I win!” Kenma’s eyes darted back and forth looking for who the smaller girl was shouting at. She got her answer in the form of a tall black haired girl with an ever-present scowl.
“Damn it Hinata! We just got the message 10 minutes ago! How did you already find someone?” The girl ran up and glared at Shoyo.
“You were just too slow, Tobio-chan!” The short girl said with a smirk.
“TOBIO-CHAN?! Only Oikawa calls me that, and I hate that slut!” The black-haired girl suddenly looked much angrier, as though that one nickname was enough to raise all hell. As the two started to bicker back and forth, Kenma picked up her stuff. Realizing that neither noticed her moving, she turned toward the entrance to her school and bolted inside.
Once inside the school, Kenma took a deep breath. Shoyo was tiring enough, but when she got around Kageyama, it was exhausting. Walking through the hallways was much easier. She pulled out her headphones and plugged them into her ipod, turning the music up loud enough to drown everything else out. As she moved through the halls she was paying attention to her phone, so she didn’t notice the person in front of her until they had already collided. “I’m sorry,” Kenma started to say, before lifting her head and noticing that she had to look up, way up, to see the face of the girl she bumped into.
“Watch where you’re going,” the tall blond who she had hit said grumpily. The tiny, mousey brunette next to her piped up after noticing Kenma flinch at the blond’s harsh tone.
“Tsukki, be nice. You’re scaring people again,” she said. The blond frowned and looked at the brunette, taking in her insistent and determined look, before turning her eyes toward the ombre haired girl…or rather where she was.
“Yamaguchi where’d she go?”
“Huh?” the brunette looked around. “She must have left.”
“Oh well, let’s keep going.”
“Lead the way Tsukki!”
2. I have to do that?!
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Kenma decides to watch the practice. Typical Haikyuu craziness ensues.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Kuroo gets introduced!!! Well...kinda. He gets a bit of a mention but we're still all about Kenma. Lots of Yamaguchi in this chap because outside of Kenma and Kuroo, Yama's my fave. Ps: Sorry for being slow on this chapter! My new beta - Bri - decided to take a vacation and so it took me ages to find someone to help me proofread. Gomen!!! Won't happen again (hopefully) Everyone who commented or left kudos, you guys are awesome and make my day. | 4c0da884867e46ac9678bda32d28fea3 | ['75a1ffffdc64460eb3cefa7d8b3f98ec'] |
Bury my Love (in the Moondust)
**Author's Note:**
> SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LOOOOOOONG!!!!!!! I've been awful to everyone who reads my stories and died for a year. But I'm back!!!!! This has been written for ages after I got a comment on part 1 of the series asking for Yamaguchi's side of the story. They also asked for a Kenma/Yamaguchi pity party and well...let's just say part 3 is super cute. Hope you guys like it! Comments and kudos chase the depression away!!!
_I’m building this house, on the moon._
Like a lost astronaut.
Looking at you, like a star.
From a place the world forgot.
Yamaguchi Tadashi felt lost a lot in life. People made him nervous, decisions were always hard. But there was one place where he always felt safe and warm: with his moon. Tsukishima had been the moon for as long as their friendship had gone on, from the first day he saved Tadashi from the bullies picking on him in elementary school. Tadashi idolized the moon, always trying to stay close and reveling in the fact that he was the only one who could see the true Tsukishima Kei underneath the icy veneer he had. And Tsukishima cared a lot for Tadashi too. At least, Tadashi hoped he wasn’t being forgotten. The rest of the world never looked at him (they were to enraptured by the moon’s beauty), so he hoped that the moon at least saw him.
_And there’s nothing I can do,
Except bury my love for you. _
Tadashi was in love with Tsukishima. Plain and simple. He almost told Tsukishima as much one night when the two were in their sophomore year of college. They were laying in the grass next to their apartment building and looking up at the sky together. “Hey Tsukki?” Tadashi asked, prompting a tilt of the head from Tsukishima. “Have you ever thought about love?” Tsukishima frowned at this.
“What do you mean?”
“Like, have you ever thought about what it would be like to fall in love?” Tsukishima sighed.
“Love is a frivolous emotion. It’s a waste of time.” The cold statement made Tadashi frown himself, before he stood up and mumbled a quiet “I’m going inside.” That was the day Tadashi decided it. “Unless Tsukki comes to me first, I’m never going to tell him.”
_The brightness of the sun will give me just enough._
To bury my love, in the moon dust.
I long to hear your voice, but still I make the choice.
To bury my love, in the moon dust.
Tadashi held strong on his promise. He never told Tsukishima anything about loving him, never gave any indication that he liked him as anything more than a best friend. And a year later, the love got easier to bury. The heartbreak, however, grew exponentially.
“Yamaguchi.” At the strange tone of Tsukishima’s voice Tadashi looked up. He was met with a rare sight that he could only describe as beautiful: Tsukishima’s face was bright red with a blush but he was smiling happily, his eyes shining gold.
“What is it?” Tadashi was genuinely curious, as not many things could make the normally sullen blond so happy. He saw Tsukishima blush even deeper.
“Remember that night when we talked about love?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I was wrong about love being frivolous.” Tadashi was floored. In all of their years of friendship, Tsukishima has never admitted so blatantly that he was wrong. Usually, he just beat around the bush until Tadashi said that he didn’t care or that he was forgiven. So, in this situation, Tadashi didn’t really know how to respond. Because of that, he stuttered like an idiot while trying to get his bearings.
“Uhh…Ahh…W-what b-brought this on?”
“Kuroo Tetsurou. Remember him from high school? He asked me out.” Tsukishima’s eyes shined more with each word, as Tadashi’s dimmed. Of course he remembered Kuroo. He was the smiley, sunshiny man who helped Tsukishima rediscover his love for volleyball. The moon and the sun, funny how things work out. Tadashi was stupid to think he could compete. “Uhh, Tadashi? Are you okay?” Tadashi shook himself out of his thoughts after he realized that he must have been staring. He forced a bright smile as he buried the heartache.
“I’m fine, and I’m really happy for you Tsukki.”
_Nothing can breathe in the space._
Colder than the darkest sea.
I have dreams about the days,
Driving through your sunset breeze.
Tadashi choked on his tears as he sat on his bed, having awoken from a dream shaking and drenched in sweat. It had started out nice, a memory of the road trip he and Tsukishima had taken when they graduated high school. They had only told their parents, packed enough clothes and money for a month, and just drove. Forgetting about responsibilities, relationships, and roles to play. They were just them, enjoying being friends. One of the trip’s days brought them to the beach, and that was where the dream focused.
“You make life so simple Tadashi,” Tsukishima had been saying. “I don’t have to try hard to talk to you.”
“I’m glad,” Tadashi had giggled. “You shouldn’t have to force yourself to be friendly.” They were sitting on towels looking out at the clear, clean water.
But, that was where the good part ended. |
18d985da34cb4f809a5f63609f99d238 | ['75a6628ba90241a39220f7e064619a34'] | dead-eyed
**Author's Note:**
> take this fic with a grain of salt as i haven't consumed any vaguely-war-and-peace-related content for a year at least lmao
Pierre finds them like this: a triad of intertwined, vaguely amorphous shapes in the darkness. He stops, breathes, and does not make a sound, no matter that it is his own house. That Hélène (and one of the figures is, in fact, Hélène) invites her brother and their bastard mortal toy into his home holds a weight that Pierre is tired of carrying.
They are intriguing creatures, so alien to him, and it is cold in the night, and there are monsters out at these times, and he doesn't have a jacket. He stands in the doorway.
The three of them are on the sofa, the siblings on opposite ends with Dolokhov in the middle, languid and at ease. In the candlelight, Pierre can see that Fedya is quite a small man without his heavy military jacket. The last time he had seen him was when he had almost shot him dead, though he isn't spitting and heaving on the ground as he had been. Still, there are striking similarities to that time and now: the kohl around Dolokhov's eyes is smudged and tracked down his face like a badger. Like a dying man.
Pierre watches as Hélène, his wife, presses her lips to the side of his neck. In another world, he is beautiful. Currently, he is disgusting. Disgusting, and yet. And yet.
“Fedya, darling,” says Helene- and she had never called _Pierre_ that, never spared him any names- “Fedya, darling, someone else is here too.” Pierre startles, backs up to run until he realizes. Anatole, of course. The _darling_ in question rolls to the other side lazily. Anatole laughs, a flash of fangs, and- oh.
Memories come back suddenly, standing in the doorway, of the night that he and Hélène were married. Her fingers at his throat. He had begged then, for she was stronger than he had imagined, and in flashes of red he had shoved her off of him. She hadn’t laid a sharp-nailed hand on him like _that_ since. Dolokhov, then, must be his replacement. He’s a damn good one too by the likes of it, docile and pliant under Anatole’s grip as the latter laps up the blood running down his neck. Pierre takes a second- a liberty, if you will- to think. There must have been quite a bit of thrashing around the first time they had done this, it’s a practiced art, there must have been-
Natalya Rostova-
Anatole looks sicker, paler than he did before, gently pushing the half conscious Fedya out of his way, licking a bloodstain off his wrist. Hélène practically _drapes_ herself over the both of them. There’s an uncharacteristic softness about her like this, something reserved for her brother and their pet. Nothing for Pierre, nothing ever for Pierre. He wonders: does she know? She must have seen the girl at the club, the princess. Does she know what he foresees Anatole is going to do? Fedya Dolokhov, the murderer, a living carcass for the vultures to feed on. What could they _possibly_ do to the girl?
“Lena,” Dolokhov slurs, and Pierre can see that his eyes are blown and glassy, threatening to close. “We have a visitor.” Pierre silently wills himself smaller. It is not Hélène but her brother who reacts, craning his neck at a purely inhuman angle and fixing his gaze on the entrance to the room.
“Ah, Petrushka.” Anatole’s arms seem to coil around himself, pallid and gaunt. He seems not to blink; it’s a stupid observation, the creature has no reason to. Vampires, _Homo Nosferatu_ , they are strong, they are deadly, and their eyes, _Anatole's_ eyes pierce with danger no daggers can emulate. In all of Pierre’s life he has never been so afraid.
He has realized, in his short time in the doorway, that he has brought upon himself disasters not yet known.
He has run down the hall and into the street before anyone can hiss another word.
**Author's Note:**
> baby's SECOND ao3 fic! i was compelled to write this out of sheer boredom and honestly idk if comet is still relevant but. oh well. might make this into a series who knows,, comments, etc greatly appreciated! feel free to talk comet vampire shenanigans. much love always | b954141429ff4109846f4cf1aeafde38 | ['75a6628ba90241a39220f7e064619a34'] | two
Bruises.
Carlton Drake spasms back into consciousness in fits and bursts, and the first thing that he sees of himself through the reflection of the glass door is this: an array of purple and black on his neck, his cheek. His hand reaches up to touch them and he feels nothing at all.
The second thing, the blood, pouring lazily out of his mouth, is not so much alarming as it is mesmerizing. Fingers move from pressing down onto his collarbone to soaking themselves in red, watching his own blank stare in translucence.
Something makes itself known then, something silver and languid. It curls up around Carlton’s hand and brings it away from his lips to prod at his tongue. He can’t do anything but watch- here it traces his throat, here it wraps his arm. Briefly, he registers that this _ must _ be a symbiote, but it seems to him more like silk. A divine element that he has suddenly discovered. A God, in his addled state. A deity.
It presents itself to Carlton as _ Riot _ and probes into his mind, flooding him with odd carnality. He’s _ hungry. _ Suddenly his teeth are sharp and his knuckles are split as he gnaws on them, blindly, before a tendril reaches out, folds his arm onto his chest, snarls. _ Food, _ it says. _ Meat. _ Carlton stumbles onto his feet.
“Okay,” he croaks. “Okay. Tell me what to do.”
There is a child on the floor, scraped and undeniably dead, and Riot gravitates toward it with such force that Carlton finds himself kneeling on the ground again. _ No, _ he thinks, and when he gets no reaction he thinks it harder. _ No. _ His mouth is full of tongue. Stretching, fangs that aren’t his puncturing skin, chewing through muscle-
He turns away from the body and retches into his hands. _You don’t listen,_ Riot grumbles in his mind, shifting to skirt around his mouth and pick off bits of the child’s flesh from his lips.
“You can’t,” Carlton slurs in between gasps. “That’s not… that’s a kid.”
_ Why do human beings pick and choose? I could eat you from the inside out. _ He can feel the symbiote sliding through every cavity of his skull.
“You wouldn’t, would you? You wouldn’t.” Riot responds with a purr.
_Your body is so fragile, but you would manage. An arm or a kidney could go. As long as the mind_ _is intact._ There it is again, that rummaging. Carlton imagines what the inside of his head must look like: tentacles bending and crushing gray matter, choosing to settle in his frontal lobe, or maybe his cerebellum.
“We can do anything,” he says suddenly, breathless.
_ No. _ I _ Can do anything. _ Carlton forces a bitter smile.
His tooth is broken, he realizes this as his tongue- _ Riot’s _ tongue- snaps it back together. By some odd, alien force, he is lifted into a standing position again. Symbiotes can heal; he takes mental note. The bruises, though, are still there, now stark against his otherwise spotless complexion. He thinks of what Riot had said before: as long as the mind is intact.
_ Fascinating _ , hums the symbiote in question as it envelopes his upper body. _ Beautiful. _
This, Carlton Drake decides, is a type of intrusion that he doesn’t mind at all.
**Author's Note:**
> lmao baby's first ao3 fic!! follow me at @twinkcarltondrake on tumblr for more cringey shit |
dc4d4caf59e741a9bd8e3960ad3cb023 | ['75bc69d61d9743bc816164ad44931f9e'] | "I already told you I don't have a crush on him" Renjun sighed bending over to get a stick
"Well I still think he has a crush on you"
"And why do you think that" He replied while rolling his eyes
"Well for one when you bent over he was staring at your butt so" the boy shrugged
"What?" Renjun yelled a blush immediately making its way to his face
"Oh my god you should've seen your face" Donghyuck wheezed
"It was just a joke. They're talking about something, I think its about us since they keep looking over here though" Donghyuck spoke after he sobered up
Just as Renjun turned around to look at the other two boys to see what Hyuck was talking about Jaemin looked over to the other two boys. Renjun immediately whipped his around the other way another blush making its way to his cheeks
"Ugh you guys should just date already" Donghyuck groaned
"Who should date already?" Jaemin asked walking over to the other two boys much to Mark protest since you could see him in the background rapidly waving his arms around while shaking his head 'no'
"No one!" Renjun replied as the words left Jaemin's mouth
"Why're you over here anyways, Mark seems to want you back" Donghyuck asked continuing to collect wood
"Well we came on this camping trip so that we would stop fighting and honestly I don't want to get kicked off the basketball team which will probably happen if I keep getting in trouble because of our petty feud"
"So we should all just try to be civil" Jaemin continued
"We tried that and you guys wouldn't stop annoying us"
"Maybe we're just not meant to friends" Renjun continued looking up
"We weren't even being annoying!" Mark yelled
"See he's already not being civil" Donghyuck said pointing at Mark
"That's because Mark's an arrogant asshole, but Jisung and I have agreed that we should be civil"
Mark looked offended before sending Jaemin the middle finger
"We never had a problem with Jisung or Jeno it was only you two" Donghyuck said
"But Ch-"
"Chenle only hated him because he wouldn't stop trying to flirt with him but now I think Chenle has a crush on him I don't know anymore" Renjun said cutting Jaemin off
"Well this conversation has been very enlightening" Jaemin said looking off
"Anyways, what do you guys say? Friends?" Jaemin asked sticking his hand out for a handshake
Donghyuck was the first to agree, shaking his hand with a sure
Renjun however looked very suspicious as if the other boys were planning something before he pushed the thoughts off and shook hands with Jaemin also
"I can't believe you're friends with them" mark said scrunching up his face
"God I fucking hate you" Donghyuck muttered
"They're better than you" Jaemin said sending Mark a smile
"Wow I can't believe this. We've been friends since we were in diapers and you just betray me like this just so you can get a date mhmhmh" Mark said feigning hurt
(how do you type the noise when you shake your iM-)
"Shut up I'm not trying to get a date you dumb bitch"
"I really hate you sometimes" Mark replied shaking his head
"The feelings mutual."
...
The boy then burst out laughing putting their arms around each others shoulders. Donghyuck and Renjun looked at them like they were crazy though they both knew that they did the same thing along with Chenle
Back at camp Chenle, Jisung, and Jeno we’re finishing setting up the tents before the boys sat on down making small talk
”So why do you think your friends hate mine?” Jeno said leaning in slightly
”Donghyuck doesn’t like Mark because of what happened in middle school and Renjun doesn’t like Jaemin because freshman year he had a crush on him but Jaemin was only playing with his feelings but I’m not so sure anymore I’m pretty sure Renjun has a crush on Jaemin now”
”Renjun? He has a crush on Jaemin?” Jeno asked tilting his head
Chenle only nodded
”He’s doing a shit job of showing it” Jisung laughed
”Well we’re kinda supposed to hate you guys and your friends supposedly hate us so I guess he just doesn’t want to get played with again?” Chenle shrugged
“They’re back” Jeno called
Chenle got up to meet up with his friends
”We don’t hate Jaemin anymore”
”wait- What?” Chenle said looking at the two confused
”He called a truce so we’re friends now” Renjun shrugged
”damn. Okay i guess, what about Mark”
At the mention of his name Donghyuck sent Chenle a glare which made the boy put his hands up in defense
“Oh great you guys are back!” Coach Jung said
”Now we can start the team bonding exercises!” Coach Kim exclaimed happily
”kill me now.”
6. Bonding Fucking Sucks Bro
"Bonding exercises? Are you fucking kidding me?" Renjun asked with a roll of his eyes
"LANGUAGE!" Doyoung yelled shooting a look towards the boy
"Anyways you guys will be going against each other to create some friendly competition" Coach Jung exclaimed with a smile
"First you'll have to complete an obstacle course with one of your teammates blind folded, In the second event you'll be answering questions about each other, and for the last event it will be a giant game of hide and go seek just for fun"
"Hide and Go Seek? What're we ten?" Donghyuck muttered under his breath making Jaemin laugh and Mark sending a "friendly" glare towards Jaemin
"And because Jeno doesn't have any problems with any of you guys he won't have to participate, but you can play hide and go seek if you want its up to you"
"Anyways choose which partner will be blindfolded, you have five minutes to discuss a game plan before you have to be at the starting line" | 62d5ce9f85084eb09e248230366bdd4b | ['75bc69d61d9743bc816164ad44931f9e'] | "How bout I fuck you instead"
"In your dreams" Jungkook scoffed
"oh most definitely"
"What?"
"what?"
"what did you just s-"
"Nothing, just get off of me" Taehyung said putting Jungkook down immediately making him stumble a little
"You were the one who wouldn't put me down" Jungkook said but Taehyung wasalready walking away clearly embarrassed about what he had said
"Okay everyone get into a circle and grab a hand, refrain from holding hands with the same person" the basketball coach explained
Once everybody were holding hands the coaches told them to try and untangle themselves
It was going smoothly until the teams got stumped
"Oh Jungkook go under Chanyeol's arm" Jin ordered
Jungkook obeyed dragging Sana along with him
"Now Sana turn around" Namjoon said
After Sana was turned around the teams got back to untangling themselves
They were almost finished but somehow Taehyung ended up behind Jungkook and there was really no way to fix that
"Now what do we do?" Nayeon whined slightly
"I'm fine with this" Taehyung said resting his chin on the top of Jungkook's head
'Such an idiot' Jungkook mouthed while rolling his eyes, to which the other athletes laughed at leaving Taehyung confused about what everyone was laughing about
"Okay guys! Your 30 minutes are up did you guys finish?" The basketball coach asked walking back into the gym
"Almost" Jimin said with a slight pout that was barely noticeable but Yoongi noticed
"Oh it's fine. Anyways get back with your partner the activity is a blindfolded race so lets go to the cafeteria"
Those who would be carrying their partner put on their blindfold's so they wouldn't be able to see the obstacle course
"Ow fuck!" Taehyung exclaimed when his knee came in contact with a water fountain which Jungkook found hilarious
Taehyung looked around confused for a second trying to locate where Jungkook was before grabbing him by his waist
"Wait Tae- You're gonna bump into the pole stop!" Jungkook screamed
"Go left!"
"I said left dammit!"
Eventually they caught back up with the group when they reached the cafeteria but everyone was confused when Taehyung walked in with Jungkook thrown across his shoulder who looked like he genuinely wanted to die
Finally after what felt like hours activities day was over
A day that was supposed to bring everyone closer which did somewhat work since the group was planning on meeting up at the party and having a mini camping trip afterwards
(It literally just gonna be in Jimin's backyard loll)
But Jungkook just seemed to hate Taehyung even more than before, but he better get used to seeing him since his friends and Taehyung's friends are all one big group of people
3. Spin The Bottle
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Jungkook gets very drunk and almost does something very bad
>
> Jin is on full mother mode
>
> Jimin is letting loose
>
> Youngjae is still dealing with Jaebum
>
> Mark hasn’t left Jinyoungs lap since they got there
>
> And Bambam is dancing and maybe grinding (okay definitely grinding) on Yugyeom, his partner from the team bonding excercises
Jungkook’s P.O.V
As I was getting ready my phone vibrated, I glanced at it for a second before turning back to the mirror to continue on my hair
The phone continued to ding making me groan out
“Oh my god.” I muttered leaving the bathroom to pick up my phone that continued to ding in my hand
Aye whaddup Homies
Unknown Number: Who named this chat
Unknown Number: I already want to leave
Worldwide Handsome: Heyy!! Stop hating on the name
DemLegs: Jin you sound like my mom when she try's to be "hip"
Yugyeomie: No offense Hyung, but you do
Worldwide Handsome: Hurtful, but you're literally the only respectful child in this group chat so I'll let it slide
BabyJae: uM
BabyJae: What am I then? A pile of rocks?
Worldwide Handsome: Besides you Jae
BabyJae: Thank you
Chim Chim: Where's Kookie??
Unknown Number: Who?
DemLegs: Jungkook
Unknown Number: Oh, idkk
MarkiePoo: Hiiii
Mark's dumb ass boyfriend: Hey
Unknown Number: Hey Mark
Unknown Number: Hi Mark
Yugyeomie: MarkiePoo!!!
MarkiePoo: Yugyeomie!!
Worlwide Handsome: Can everyone introduce themselves pls
DemLegs: Didn't you make this group chat
Worldwide Handsome: Uh is that what the heck I asked????
Unknown Number: Kim Namjoon, nice to meet you guys.
Yugyeomie: Yugyeom, Happy to be here :))
Unknown Number: Min Yoongi. Definitely not happy to be here
Chim Chim: There's no need to be rude Hyung :(
Yoongi Hyung: and suddenly I'm happy to be here wow
Unknown Number: Lmaoooo
Unknown Number: Hyung you're so whipped and you guys aren't even dating
Yoongi Hyung: Shut up Tae.
Unknown Number: This is Kim Taehyung btw
'Ew why the hell is that fuck boy in this chat?' I thought to myself
Kookie: Why am I in a group chat full of meatheads???
Youngjae's "Rapist": Hurtful
Yugyeomie: Okay Kookie, I see how it is.
Kookie: Besides Yugyeom ofc
Worldwide Handsome: You guys know each other already?
Kookie: Yeah, from dance camp. You should know this "mother"
Yoongi Hyung: Okay wtf
Worldwide Handsome: Don't sass me little boy
Mark's dumb ass boyfriend: Um, what about me Jungkook????
Kookie: You already know I don't like you Jinyoung. Don't even try it.
Kookie: I merely tolerate you since you're dating one of my best friends
MarkiePoo: Aw, Kookie that's so nice <3
Mark's dumb ass boyfriend: Mark, I feel betrayed.
MarkiePoo: I think you should be grateful, they all used to hate you
MarkiePoo: Now only one hates you
Mark's dumb ass boyfriend: Who?
Babyjae: Jin
DemLegs: Jin
Kookie: Jin
Chim Chim: Jin
MarkiePoo: ^^^^
Worldwide Handsome: It's true
Mark's dumb ass boyfriend: But,,,,, why???
Worldwide Handsome: You're dating my son
Youngjae's Rapist: hol up
Yoongi Hyung: boi wHAT
Chim Chim: He think's he's our mom
Worldwide Handsome: "thinks" yeah okay. That's not what you were saying as I raised you on my back. |
8954579754c84379943aae1ba03bcc7e | ['75be6852ef5747d98a3b43d32b8eabfa'] | The Smiling Demon (A Thomas Barrow Poem)
**Author's Note:**
> Watching the first episode of Downton Abbey made me instantly say: "That's him. That one is mine."
>
> It did not take a long time for me to realise that Thomas is much more than a nasty villain. He's my favourite character, partly because he seems to be the only member of the downstairs staff who is capable of emotionally reacting to "us having nothing, them having everything".
>
> I started this poem by portraying the dark, sinister side of his character. But then I tried to shift the tone into something more empathetic, to make the reader understand his behaviour.
>
> Throughout the series you see so many hints of his potential to be one of the brightest lights in the world. I believe in him and I know that he will always stand up again, no matter what they throw at him. I know that he will conquer the world he lives in and in the end, he won't have the reputation of a scheming, cold hearted demon, but a beautiful human being who is loved and respected and remembered for the good things he's done. I am optimistic that the movie will help him to get there.
A Smiling Demon, ready to grow, ready to betray
Raven black hair and a soul of silver gray.
Blue eyes watching out for enemies on the hallway.
Tall figure, slim and smart, a black livery, he looks like art.
A Demon, beware, beware, he's always two steps ahead,
A Demon, prepare, prepare for his games and intrigues.
Look over your shoulder and go on your tiptoes,
You might catch the eye of the player.
A player, a betrayer, do not believe his sweet talk.
Ambitious as hell, always vicious and suspicious,
The Smiling Demon, he knows his business.
Every mistake and every sin is on his list,
Even if he is in somebody's debt – he just can't resist.
Goodness is buried under every rock that he can find.
He won't admit the truth that he is not unkind.
He pretends he doesn't care, he says he doesn't mind,
He plays the cruel man whose harsh words tear hearts apart.
Take a long and careful look at Thomas Barrow
The servant, the footman, the valet, the butler
Do you see an evil man or a shattered soul,
Torn by a society who told him he's not whole.
How can he be good when they told him to hide in the dark,
The cloud of judgement like a birthmark.
Doomed to work till the end of his days for the people without destination,
While those who learn his secret call him an abomination.
He abuses authority for his own good cause he was never treated right.
A scar on his hand but many more on his heart, hidden by cold lies;
Nobody must ever know that he loves guys.
Once he found a man and it was love at first sight,
His hair was fair and Thomas saw him as a shining knight.
A savior from loneliness and despair, his partner for life,
The end of his misery,
There could only be one reason why Jimmy did not have a wife.
But he never got more than a kiss in the dark
Even though they became friends,
The Smiling Demon would never forget the spark.
He fell into a deep hole which almost destroyed it all.
He loved, oh how much he loved,
But his enemies wanted to bring him to fall.
The Smiling Demon was scared, he was alone, he cried in the rain,
For the first time he felt depressed, the unbearable pain.
After all, a bad boy is better than a weak boy.
Never again will he be anyone's toy.
He can't even talk about the places he's been.
Will he ever learn that traitors never win?
If The Demon would ever open his eyes
Let the tears flow out, let the world see that he cries,
If The Demon wasn't abused and called confused
He would be called an angel, holy and unbruised.
If the world ever decides to gives him a chance
His agonies would find their ends.
The way to the rose garden is long but he won't give up,
Proving the world wrong is his finest trait:
A Demon's love could indeed grow into something great. | b862eaa641d641ba95b1f35a1c08f66d | ['75be6852ef5747d98a3b43d32b8eabfa'] | Farrier's Prayer
**Author's Note:**
> Here we go again! May I present you the sequel to "Carrier- a poem, a letter, a love song".
>
> I never intended to write out of Farrier's POV, it just happened.
> I want to thank everyone who read Carrier (my first poem) and even left a heart there. It meant the world. And most of all, the three people who commented under my work, because it is damn encouraging. If there is only one thing you like about my work, please let me know. I won't forget you. You can leave a comment here or message me on tumblr (my name is 'written-and-directed').
>
> Jack Lowden and Tom Hardy, what have you done to my innocent little heart?
Dear God,
It only took one hour for my world to fall apart.
I fought and it was all for him.
There was a time when my sins overshadowed the light
And now I ask for forgiveness because I have promises to keep.
I have a man who is gentle and warm,
He shines brighter than all the stars.
Maybe you have given us to each other,
Maybe we were meant to fall.
If that is so, why have you separated us?
Things can't stay like this.
For all my sins I deserve the worst
But we are bound to one another.
Every wound that I receive
Will hurt him just as much as it hurts me.
You cannot punish the good and sweet Collins
For my mistakes and for what I may have done.
You have to understand.
My body may be the enemy's
But my heart will always be his.
I can't explain how much it means to me
That his voice keeps me calm at night.
We made a promise to never leave each other's side,
This cannot be the end.
If you let me return to him
He would never have to be alone.
I can take care of him, I know I can,
Please give me a chance.
I wouldn't wish to be alive if it wasn't for him.
He, who is in the air and gave his heart to me,
Is my reason to never give up.
I remember his voice,
Telling me to fight until the end and come back to him.
I sighed and said: „Don't you worry, darlin'. I'll be alright.
Remember, we were meant to be.
God is on our side.“
But perhaps you never wanted us to meet.
Let me tell you what I feel
For Collins, the brave, the enchanting.
I am a lover
Who has survived the hell and would do it again
To make sure my baby is safe,
No matter what becomes of me.
I have a lover
Who worries every night,
Who took my hand and kissed my face
The way noone else would.
A man who hides his tears and has to lock sorrow in his mind.
We are lovers
Ripped apart by fire and water.
We found courage in the darkest places.
We shared our forbidden dreams.
God, connect our bodies again
For our souls are already one.
Being reunited would not be easy,
That I know for sure.
I am aware that nothing would be the same,
But we can make it.
And at the end of the day we'd be alright,
A life in peace we shall live.
Your angel in the sky has chosen to need me,
Let me return to the man I call my home.
I would save him from this war for once and all.
Never would I miss a chance to let him know
That my love for him is and will always be true.
Let me keep my oath,
Just tell me the price and I will pay, you'll see.
The love for him is everything I have to offer,
My darling is all that matters to me.
Have mercy on us and save us.
Amen. |
7de7965ae51045ff8650fe3d480da404 | ['7638209c8ced4df5b45bb38d153be72c'] | > "Claro que não!" => "Of course not." (Portuguese).
> "Compadre!" => friend, buddy. (Spanish).
> "Sim, estou bem" => "Yes, I'm fine." (Portuguese).
> "Ájalas" => Expression of surprise. Normally used in Jalisco, Mexico, place where Panchito was born. (Spanish).
> "Pequeña" => Little girl. (Spanish).
> "Mijo" => It's like son, moms call their children like that, but it's also often said among friends as a sign of trust. It's normally used in some Latin countries. (Spanish)
> "Oh, Bahia é muito linda. Eu morei lá por muitos anos, mas quando me casei com o pai de Panchito nos mudamos para o México. Eu pretendo ir no próximo ano, talvez você possa vir comigo." => "Oh, Bahia is really beautiful. I lived there for many years, but when I married Panchito's father we moved to Mexico. I plan to go next year, maybe you can come with me." (Portuguese).
> "Ma' " => short way to say Mamá (Mom). (Spanish).
> "Jericalla" => traditional mexican dessert, originally from Guadalajara, Mexico. (Spanish)
> "I have enough to have to listen to las vecinas saying that you seem to be urgido because you keep chuleando all passing girl" => She basically says that the neighbors told her that Panchito likes to seduce all the girls he sees and that he looks like he really needs a couple xd (Spanish) | ba2eb350937244f78698f63b9aa4cec3 | ['7638209c8ced4df5b45bb38d153be72c'] | "Ah, true! Guys, this is my mother María González!" Panchito introduced the hen to them, she looked a lot like Panchito, with the difference that she was light brown and was shorter than him, in addition she wore a beautiful traditional Tabasco dress, with white blouse and black skirt with flowers of different colors.
"Ay mijo, how many times do I have to tell you that I can introduce myself? You make me look dumb!" María was annoyed at him, but she smiled when she saw her son's friends. "You must be Donald and José! Panchito doesn’t stop talking about you! Oh, José, Panchito told me you're Brazilian, I was born in Bahía!"
"Seriously? How is it? I always wanted to travel to Bahía!" José exclaimed with a dreamy sigh, he had heard so much about how beautiful Bahia was, but he had never had the opportunity to go there.
"Oh, Bahia é muito linda. Eu morei lá por muitos anos, mas quando me casei com o pai de Panchito nos mudamos para o México. Eu pretendo ir no próximo ano, talvez você possa vir comigo." Maria continued speaking in Portuguese, remembering her beloved Bahía.
"Oh no, they're going to start." Said Panchito, although only the ducks heard him, since his mother and José seemed very entertained with their talk "Ma' we have to go, we have many things to do."
"You should be happy, I finally have someone to speak with in Portuguese because none of you bother to learn!" María looks annoyed to her son, challenging him to keep talking, but Panchito understood his mother and decided to keep quiet.
"My apologies, but Panchito is right, there are important things to do, and we can't waste time. Besides, Launchpad already fixed the plane." Scrooge intervened a little nervous, he had never dealt with a Mexican mother and it seemed that the best thing was not to challenge her.
"It's true, maybe on a better occasion I’ll be able to visit you and keep talking." added José with a soft smile.
"Wait. Launchpad already fixed the plane? But we've been here for about 10 minutes." Dewey surprised looked at his uncle Scrooge, the pilot had never fixed the plane so quickly.
"Yeah. How did he fix it so fast?" Louie also asked, everyone was thinking the same as Dewey.
"Apparently the plane didn't suffer as much damage as on other occasions, just a few dents due to the fall and a small engine failure" the older duck answered.
"It’s true! We’re ready to take off! Oh hello!" Launchpad finally approached the group of birds and waved his hand towards Panchito and his mother, the rooster happily returned the greeting.
"Well ok. I would have liked to invite you to my house to eat jericalla." María says disappointed "Be good Francisco, don't get into trouble, I have enough to have to listen to las vecinas saying that you seem to be urgido because you keep chuleando all passing girl" she warns her son.
"HAHA Sí Ma'! We have to go! I love you! Goodbye!" Panchito anxiously pushed his two friends towards the rear entrance of the plane, saying goodbye quickly to his mother and without letting her respond. Donald and José looked at each other confused, they had not understood what Maria said but it seemed that Panchito didn’t like what his mother talked about in front of them.
Once everyone boarded the plane, Launchpad turned it on and started to turn around to the clearing on the side. Once there was no tree in sight, the takeoff started, which certainly happened without any complications.
Already in the air, Donald and José began to explain to Panchito everything that had happened with Felldrake while he listened annoyed, still did not believe that sorcerer had come back to bother them again and although he was glad to see his friends again he would have preferred that out on one less occasion of risking life. When José explains that he managed to escape using his magic, Panchito has a concern expression, Donald realizes it and understands why, they both know what the parrot thought about his magic, and they were worried that what had happened years ago, would happen again.
Meanwhile, the four children were talking in the chairs on the second floor of the plane. The triplets were discussing how unhappy they were about this situation, Donald didn't pay so much attention when he was with José, but now with Panchito on board, they thought that they would be practically invisible to him. Although that wasn't the only thing that bothered them. All these years the triplets always thought that their uncle Donald didn't have friends and that he had a very boring life, since he always spent his time working (or looking for a job) or in the house taking care of them, and he never went out to meet anyone. When they met Webby they were surprised when she told them that Donald had been Scrooge's adventurous companion, they never imagined their uncle fighting with pirates or travelled to the depths of the ocean.
But now? Now his uncle was not only an adventurer, he was also a hero who saved the universe from an evil sorcerer along with a goddess and those who were apparently his best friends. Dewey had to admit that he felt upset, with himself for never having realized that for 7 years his uncle contacted his two Latino friends, and was annoyed at Donald for never telling them anything about them. Hadn't it been enough to hide them about his mother and Scrooge? What else is he hiding?
If Dewey was sure of something, was that Donald was still hiding more things from them. And at this point, he felt that throughout his life his uncle never showed them who he really was, he feels that he doesn't know Donald Duck anymore.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Translations:
> |
9c960295f2724773a738b58d9a44e3b0 | ['764dfbeafc914aae93cb1f60683a2b21'] | “Yeah,” Jinyoung joins in, “we’re thinking he could direct the jacket shooting for our next album.”
Chanshik turns to him. “Who’s going to sew the stage outfits?”
The interviewer laughs. “Wow, B1A4 taking the self-made-dols title to another level!”
(Lying in bed, Chanshik’s mind thoughts flow back and forth between sleep and consciousness without much active input, fractions of moments past flickering into the fresh material of his brain.
There are websites dedicated to documenting how self-made idols’ faces are, how extensive the craft of professional designers with scalpels, a topic painstakingly common yet tabooed, tabooed yet common, fans shielding their idols from accusations of procedures that are reality for their friends if not them themselves. It almost makes more sense, to give out thank yous over compliments for money poured into tweaks here and there, achieved for a price Chanshik doesn’t have to understand and so he remains neutral on the case, refraining from feeling protective of others’ - what? privacy? soul? reputation? self-image? right to decide?
People would pay for a face like his, so to speak. Hard work is praised but thank you, he supposes, for acknowledging his well-esteemed assortment of genes, but actually, thank his mom and dad for those.
He always hopes to make them proud.)
The end of 2015 comes; after his members single him out on Naver’s V app as the member who had faced many challenges in the year they’re leaving behind, he has to excuse himself once the live stream closes. He certainly does not tear up, if anyone asks.
**Author's Note:**
> credit for the duck quote goes to LINK \o/ | ee065b07b80d4173a385a44e4083aaac | ['764dfbeafc914aae93cb1f60683a2b21'] |
The Seven Times No One Can Wake Jessica Up On Time & The One Time Somebody Does
**Author's Note:**
> since i'm missing ot9 and not managing to finish anything new, here is a fic i wrote in 2014 (before jessica's departure) and never posted \o/
01\. monday
Jessica is dreaming.
_She is the leader of SoShi and Soojung is the maknae and nobody knows they’re sisters. Soojung hates Jessica and Jessica hates_ her _for it. There’s something about birds._
Jessica doesn’t remember her dreams and she won’t remember this one either. She will only shudder at the sight of a couple of sparrows sitting on a railing when the group is riding the car to their morning schedule, and then she’ll close her eyes and half-listen to Tiffany and Taeyeon chattering about some
_(birds)_
incident with Hyoyeon this morning that Jessica didn’t witness because she was
asleep. “Unnie?”
Jessica can hear the voice but it takes her a good minute to place it. She is an unnie, to
_(Krystal)_
Sooyoung - and Yoona, and
Joohyun has been talking while Jessica’s been thinking and it’s too late to catch up so Jessica shuffles closer to the wall and pulls the duvet higher up her body.
“ _Unnie_ ,” Joohyun says more urgently.
“ _What?_ ” Jessica mumbles, and it manages to come out sharp even through the sleepy mode of her speech.
Joohyun - Jessica doesn’t suppose there’s anyone else - runs her fingers along a strand of Jessica’s hair. “I made you breakfast.” And, “You should eat something before we go.” And, desperately, “ _Food_.”
“I want Yoona’s breakfast,” Jessica whines, it’s very un-unnie-like, and mostly she just wants Joohyun to leave so she can doze off. The sleep is taking over either way, and if Joohyun says anything else, Jessica doesn’t know.
02\. tuesday
_(suffocating)_
There’s a palm, a few centimeters away from Jessica’s face. “You’re awake,” says
Yoona, sounding satisfied, and sleepy, tired, exhausted, too, and Jessica gets worried. But not enough, not now. There’s
“We don’t have much
_(time)_
I made you breakfast!”
Jessica giggles. The maknae line is talking, scheming. Is
_(Soojung)_
Sooyoung in on it as well?
“Jessica Jung!” Yoona says, and that’s very un-dongsaeng-like.
Then, “ _Unnie!_ ” but farther, at someone else.
Jessica sleeps for another 22 minutes.
03\. wednesday
For a moment Jessica is four again, and she peed herself in sleep because
_(can’t remember)_
that’s what happens to little kids sometimes, her mom would say, except that’s not right, she’s 24 going on 25 and her pajama pants are dry and that’s good because someone is snuggling up to her. Body warmth is nice, Jessica gets cold at night.
“What time is it?” Her throat makes the words husky but there’s no need to cough it out since it’s only
“Sometime morning,” Yuri whispers into her shoulder. “Everybody’s taking turns in trying to wake you.”
“You are?” Jessica doesn’t know whether to be touched or affronted. “Shh,” she adds just in case Yuri is talking, and Yuri twitches, so slightly Jessica wouldn’t have noticed had she not been glued to her.
Sometime later that morning Joohyun shakes her head at them both.
04\. thursday
_(everybody)_
“ _wake up wake up”_
“I asked around,” Sooyoung shouts over the
_(fifth mini album)_
“ _everybody every everybody everybody”_
_(complextro)_
“Breakfast bribing is for the weak-minded, and don’t even get me started on Yuri.”
Please. Jessica has slept through worse. Not that it’s a game, she really just wants to, _needs_ to, for a little longer.
Sooyoung screeches along with the
_(shining)_
Please.
05\. friday
_Boa straddles her and Jessica kisses her in a hurry and slips her hands between their bodies where she can cup Boa’s boobs and_
Jessica doesn’t need to remember to feel how turned on she is. The other thing she feels are fingers darting under either each of her armpits and tickling, and that’s kind of wrong and awkward, given her
_(pee)_
pussy still clenching, though a few seconds later there’s only
_(a memory of)_
it, the ticklish torture, making her squirm and wail and there’s no other choice than to open her eyes. Sunny grins. “Good! Up! Now!”
“You’re evil,” Jessica says, quite lively.
“Thanks.” Sunny pulls on the duvet and it disappears from Jessica’s reach. “Let’s go.”
And Jessica is going to, and Sunny believes it, too, because she doesn’t waste time with any more tricks and is almost out the door when she says, “I think Taeyeon’s mad. You know she takes the crap for all of us.”
Jessica stares blankly in the direction where Sunny’s left, and eventually curls up into a ball, which would be more comforting with a duvet to hide under.
06\. saturday
_She is in LA with Tiffany, and Tiffany is mad at her. Jessica attempts to speak but the intended English words turn Japanese once they leave her mouth._
Her legs feel heavy. She tries to move them but they actually won’t and Jessica starts panicking, until
“Guess who.”
“Kim
_(Taeyeon)_
Hyoyeon, get your ass off me.”
“I don’t want to.”
The knowledge that it’s in fact Hyoyeon restricting her legs replaces the terror with annoyance.
“I can’t get up if you’re sitting on my legs. Wasn’t that the point?”
“Supposedly.”
Hyoyeon does begin to move away, though, and Jessica uses the opportunity to kick her in the butt.
Hyoyeon sighs. “You’re not getting up, are you?” she says but her tone is kind.
07\. sunday
The first thing Jessica sees that morning is the clock, telling her it’s 31 minutes past when she should have woken up. The second thing is Taeyeon watching her from the floor where she’s sitting. When their eyes cross, Taeyeon breaks the contact - Jessica is grateful for the time out - before they meet again.
“Are you mad?” Jessica says faintly. |
c470ad8276084b6e89af30f0aa1aee92 | ['7650a78da77344a4ad6ad3c9888077a9'] | It was only when they approached Paris the following afternoon that the full weight of their circumstances made itself known. It took sheer force of will for both of the women not to break their iron facades and balk at how much Paris had seemed to have changed. Milady felt disorientated from the mere sight of the city alone. However, they didn't have time to think on such matters. They were expected at the palace. Isabelle would be staying there (and if she had her way) for the foreseeable future and Milady had to convene with Tréville.
And when she barrelled into his office only a two hours later he registered somewhere in the back of his mind that he had completely and utterly messed up (purely from a personal perspective,) when it came to his choice of spymaster. It was a logical decision but the having the stark reality right there in front of his eyes changed things somewhat.
“So Tréville when exactly were you going to mention that you made Athos the Captain of Musketeers? Hmm? When were you going to run that by me because I would've surely loved to find out from you than some Durant family member who doesn't even live in Paris.” Oh dear, that was not quite what he was expecting to come out of her mouth. He though it would be more strategy less bold accusations. She was right however, he should've been the one to tell her.
Truthfully he felt guilty for it was he who gave Athos the appointment that stopped them from reuniting at the crossroads and it was he who was destroying the new life that she in all honesty deserved at this point. He'd been the Minister for War long enough to start to realise that in the end The Musketeers were no better than the Red Guards or any other political soldier because just as the Cardinal was not a good person neither were King Louis or Queen Anne. Queen Anne's actions alone could've cause civil war and were actual treason and he always believed King Louis to be worse than his wife. No wonder the Cardinal became the man that he did. To be around such madness everyday and yet remain as strong as he did well, lets say his respect for the deceased man was growing more with each passing day.
“I'm sorry,” he eventually managed to say. “You should also know that I appointed him Captain the day you were leaving for the Havre.” She of course had guessed this but it was good to hear it coming from the horse's mouth. “But we have work to do.”
To that she resigned herself to only speaking to him about what she and the Durants' had managed to come up with so far. Tréville was more than a little impressed at what he was hearing and seeing. To his untrained eye it seemed more than what should be possible and he said as much. She clarified that the Durants' had been working on the France side of things for months which seemed to settle him. He at the start of the whole war had been at a total loss on what to do on the political and espionage front but now it seemed as if he was slowly finding his way. He felt some of the weight from his mind melt away and felt freer than he had in months. Delegation was truly a wonder thing. He was starting to see what had driven the Cardinal to make creatures like Milady. Not that he agreed with the principle but he was starting to understand.
His reverie was suddenly broken for the second time that evening.
It was Athos. “Tréville. I've got something that you might what to hear, apparently-” Athos stopped registering that there was someone else in the room. When he finally saw who it was he dropped the letter he was holding and only managed to choke out one short word.
“Anne.”
4. Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Athos staggered back. His eyes flying wildly between Tréville, Milady and the desk. Hurt by Tréville apparent lack of surprise at Milady's presence.
Milady wasn't fairing much better. The sudden crash of thundering emotion nearly floored her. Her eyes flickering with every repressed emotion she ever had about Athos.
There was utter silence. Silence so deafening it was making both Milady and Athos' ears ring. After a stretch of time it dawned on Tréville that only he could break it although he was struggling to find words to say himself. He should've told Athos earlier but just like months ago his timing for telling Athos news was shockingly and depressingly bad. He couldn't help cringe in shame.
Though that shame was nothing like Athos' because despite everything he couldn't deny how breathtakingly beautiful Milady was. Though as soon as the wonder of having Anne back in his life came it was replaced by a confusion so excruciating he wondered for a brief moment if he was still alive.
“Athos...” Tréville eventually started.
“What exactly are you doing here?” he directed at Milady. His words trembling; the effort audible. Milady knew that he was forcing these words out completely against his will. She knew why. This was the first time he questioned rather than assumed her intentions. She didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted at that. She thought she was making her intentions quite clear, obviously not. | 68103d7494384e67b342d707589e5d40 | ['7650a78da77344a4ad6ad3c9888077a9'] | What are they saying of course they knew why. Or rather who. Or rather the body they would ignore every single bloody time but that would always pop up seemingly out of nowhere. The corpse in the room they simply were never going to address. Because of course the Queen had never been in the wrong where Marguerite was concerned. Oh yes, apart from the fact that she was so distracted by Aramis (Marguerite's love) that she left her in the dust to be preyed upon by Rochefort. And distracted Aramis enough that he couldn't rescue her like he should've done.
Never mind the initial sin that had almost destroyed them all. The affair or its bigger title Treason. But of course she was still a saint. Saint Queen Anne of Austria (mother of a false heir, adulterer, and the enemy's sister.)
It was getting harder for her to vanish her crimes away, they were starting to haunt her now. They were even starting to haunt Constance now too. Constance was starting to see just how her fellow commoners could resent their monarchs and she didn't like it, not one bit. Why Majesty, Why did Marguerite have to die for her to see. To truly see the path she needed to take to mitigate her husband's bad rule. To never trust the people in court completely.
But her bliss was always more important than true knowledge but now she knew and she was suffering. Suffering for the first time in her life and she was burning.
It wasn't until she saw first glimpse of Milady just after Aramis left firing excuses like training and patrol that her blood really started to boil.
It was lucky that their own friendly neighborhood Durant was in the vicinity. And this Durant gave her the biggest, most convoluted explanation she had ever heard of someone's necessary existence in the palace.
Dear God. Her husband's Captain was married to his former mistress who had become the Duke of Buckingham's mistress who before that ever happened was the Cardinal's (her husband's most trusted and formidable adviser) agent and assassin who was forced to do so because her own husband had tried to kill her (A husband who was a bloody noble) and now was Tréville's spymaster to boot. She was truly starting to question her friendship with Constance and her partiality to Aramis. To have such ties with such people. It was her first peek on the goings on behind the scene's of her own country and she was starting to see why the Cardinal became to be such a paranoid and threatening figure. To have to deal with so much information, complex narratives, and have to be on the look out for the flaws in everyone. No wonder he became so insane as to try to have her assassinated.
She'd always wondered why her husband's former mistress saved her alongside his Musketeers that day but she saw everything so clearly now. It was obvious that she still felt some attachment to Athos. It was clear even in the few seconds of their conversation she was allowed to see before she was rushed out of her apartments. And now that she thought about it; looking back on it Athos' behavior was a shade less civil than it should've been toward the King throughout that whole affair. Almost like he was sick to stomach with jealousy and revulsion that his King was having sex with his wife.
Interesting. And now that she was back for the time being maybe she'd finally see Athos truly smile. She'd seen the rest of the Musketeers laugh and smile before but never him. She was curious, she wanted to see what his laughing looked like. She had a hunch that only Milady could resurrect it.
She just had a feeling.
She was also devoutly thankful that all that Milady did was sleep with her husband instead of attempting some kind of violence. She was capable of such acts after all.
So that was it. The last remaining member of the her lover's circle. The last piece of the puzzle she knew was ever present in Aramis' life. D'Artagnan had Constance, Aramis had her, Athos apparently had Milady, and if the rumours were true them Porthos had Isabelle.
Oh Anne, if only she knew that she wasn't even a puzzle piece in the jigsaw that was Musketeers life. To be apart of Musketeer life one had to be a part of the garrison. She could never be a part of the fabric that was that soothing quilt. She was the Queen and nothing more; nothing less but nothing more.
Even Governor Feron had more chance than her and he was one of the poorest swordsman in the country. That's why he was a Governor and not out there in the fields leading the troops. A Governor who was exceedingly thankful for the constant Durant presence in the palace. Who weirdly enough didn't mind Milady being the spymaster at all. Almost like he knew everything about her. Yet as long as he didn't have to touch the spy network until it was constructed fully more power to him really.
He was no Cardinal.
Besides if the rate that he was going was any indication he was going to lose the position of First Minister faster than the rate at which he got it.
Also more power to him. He won either way. |
0f019ba36f5d4786aa03c72d5e301d9f | ['765e94f6806c48b18973dd4691a96327'] | After one last short moment to catch their breath, the two boys looked over and noticed that the girls had already climbed into the bed and fallen asleep. Stan, having had enough sex for one night, stood up to climb into bed as well, but proceeded to let out a very long fart that he had been holding in during the dry humping before climbing in. Once that was taken care of, he climbed into the bed next to Wendy, wrapped his arms around her, and fell asleep. Kyle, also having had enough, opened the bedroom window to air out the whole room, not just to let the present collective stink out but also because he knew that there was going to plenty of more farting to be had when everyone was asleep. He then climbed into the bed next to Bebe, wrapped his arms around her, and dozed off to sleep, with the four teens all let one last small fart each once they were all settled in.
_**THE END** _
12. AUTHOR'S NOTE: There's Going to be Some Changes
Hello, everyone, USER here.
Well, that only took long enough. As you saw in the title of this note, I wanted to take this opportunity to announce several changes that will be made to how this account will be run. But before that, I just wanted to say a few things about this story. The first story on my previous account was also a _South Park_ story, but when I looked it over I decided that I wasn't all that satisfied with it; I actually didn't like the anthology format I had created and I felt that many of the chapters could have had a little more effort put into them. So when I restarted this account, I decided that the first story would be a reworked version of that one, with an actual storyline about several characters having fart fetishes and starting to act on them. I specifically chose Stan and Kyle because I thought about how entertained they are by farts on the show (even though they barely have any fart scenes themselves) so I figured that they would be prime candidates to have fart fetishes; I then added Wendy and Bebe along with them because I figured that it would be more interesting if both the boyfriends and the girlfriends had the fetish as well, instead of one of the parties having it and deciding to just indulge the other.
But now, let's get down to what's going to be changed on this account. If you never followed my previous account then you can just disregard this, but this is how things are going to work around here from now on:
1) Stories will no longer be published on a set schedule. During my thinking, I realized that I was burning myself out on the previous account by forcing myself to get a brand new story out almost every single week. So way too often, I found myself writing by the seat of my pants and forcing myself to publish stories that only seemed half finished in only a few days. So from now on, I will only publish a story when I feel like that it's ready to be published and the time frames between them will vary wildly.
2) There will not be any more announcements of which stories will be coming soon. This one is related to the above in a way, but what I mean is that, by announcing which stories will be coming next ahead of time, I found myself becoming a prisoner of sorts to what I had already set. But I felt that I couldn't really change any of them because then I felt I would be letting a lot of people down. So from now on, there will no longer be any announcements, which will give me more freedom to decide on which stories to write and will also create a greater surprise factor for my fans.
3) I will no longer just publish stories as they are. During my first run, I was just publishing the first drafts of every story and moving on, but I felt that I couldn't go back and revise them later because that would prevent me from trying to go forward. But from now on, I will occasionally go back and add or remove some elements from my stories that I felt needed to be changed, so don't be surprised when you see the word counts for my stories suddenly change from time to time.
So, yeah, as you might have guessed, the reason why I decided to make these changes is that I was starting to feel burned out from how I was originally running my account. I was starting to treat it more like another job instead of something fun to do in my spare time and help me connect with a small but devoted group of people in the process. But now I hope that I can turn this around and have more fun working on this account than I did in the past.
Well, that's all I have to say about this one. Comments, bookmarks, and leaving kudos aren't required but they are definitely appreciated. Thank you all so much for reading and I'll be back next time with another wonderfully flatulent tale for you all.
Love always, USER. | 8f878cb7bcc84229bc49cb8988a2717f | ['765e94f6806c48b18973dd4691a96327'] | “Wait, you have a fart fetish, too?” “Of course,” Wendy answered enthusiastically, “I’ve known ever since I was fifteen when my vagina started to tickle every time I farted.” “That’s how I found out, too, because I’d get a boner every time I farted,” Stan replied, feeling that the connection between himself and Wendy had just reached a new level, now that he knew that she and him shared a common interest that could potentially take their love life to brand new heights. Just as Stan came to this conclusion, however, Wendy held her right index finger out to him and said, “Hey, pull my finger.” Without question, Stan grabbed her finger and gave it a good tug, making Wendy pop off another high-pitched bubbler that lasted for three seconds. The two of them shared a friendly laugh before Stan interrupted by saying, “Now, pull my finger.” Wendy then grabbed Stan’s finger and tugged it as well, which Stan followed up by ripping a deep-pitched bubbler that sounded a little wet. The two then burst out into slightly more intense laughter that was accompanied by Wendy exclaiming, “Oh, there was a little surprise with that one,” to which Stan responded by checking the back of his pants and saying, “nope, we’re good.”
Once the two allowed their laughter to stop, Wendy then walked past Stan and started climbing up the stairs. “Where are you going,” Stan asked a with a little bit of curiosity in his voice, to which Wendy answered, “Let’s head up to your room and put our fetish to the test.” “Really, right now,” Stan asked in return, which Wendy answered as she felt a bubble of gas reach her anus, “Of course! Did you really think that we were just going to leave our common fetish out of the picture.” With a combination of excitement and more gas shooting through him, Stan immediately started following Wendy up the stairs. Soon enough, they reached Stan’s bedroom, the air in which was still musky from Stan’s small but potent fart that he ripped while he was getting dressed shortly before. “Whew, how many was that,” Wendy asked as she playfully waved her hand in front of her nose, to which Stan answered, “Just one.”
“Are you sure,” Wendy teasingly asked with a rather seductive tone of voice, “it takes me about five or six to get my room to stink this bad.” “I eat a lot of protein,” Stan replied, “and it gets really bad at the gym.” The two then shared another short chuckle before Wendy planted her lips firmly on Stan’s, which he returned by pressing back with just as much intensity. Their mere peck eventually evolved into a fiery tongue dance, which eventually caused the two to fall to their knees. The teens continued to lap their tongues together and press their lips against each others' when Wendy inadvertently ripped that fart she had been holding in for the past couple of minutes. It only lasted for one second and was largely muffled by the two’s light moaning, but Stan managed to hear it and, in-between kisses, cried out, “Oh, I love it when you have gas.” Stan then ripped his own fart, which wasn’t much louder but carried a much stronger scent, making Wendy cry out, “I love it more when you do.” Continuing their passionate interaction, the two managed to stand back up before Wendy was cast down onto the unmade bed on her back with Stan on top of her, continuing to kiss like crazy the whole time.
After a few more seconds of making out, however, Wendy slid out from underneath Stan, stood behind him, and started undoing the button and zipper on his jeans. She eventually succeeded and pulled his jeans and briefs down his legs and to his ankles. With his beautiful butt cheeks and fart-scented anus staring her right in the face, Wendy could feel her mouth get as wet as her vagina. After Stan blasted a loud and smelly one right at her, Wendy took the plunge and stuck her tongue right into Stan’s sphincter. Stan moaned with intense pleasure as he felt Wendy root her tongue around in his butt hole, the sensation of which made another big bubble of gas build up in his stomach and travel down to his crack. With his muscles relaxed, Stan popped off the new fart right into Wendy’s open mouth. This just made Wendy root her tongue around in his anus with much more vigor until Stan reached climax and shot a massive load of cum onto his bedsheets, popping off another small fart involuntarily. |
1d380b0b0c83421e9e1491b02a1ab310 | ['766b85bb487c4110bfbd2686582385a9'] | They stood just inside the sitting room for a minute before John heard a tentative cough. The never-tentative Sherlock was sitting in his leather armchair, staring pointedly at the computer in his lap.
Jenny buried her face in John’s shoulder in mock embarrassment.
“Hi, Sherlock,” John said. He consciously moved his left hand from Jenny’s waist to a spot slightly lower on her body. She made a high-pitched laugh into his neck. “We’re just going to have a drink.”
Sherlock made to move from his chair. “I’ll just—“
“No, no – don’t get up. I’m sure you’re doing important things on _my_ laptop.” He quirked an eyebrow. “No need to move – we’ll respect your _privacy_.”
Sherlock glared but stayed in his chair as John detached himself from Jenny and moved to pour them both a glass of wine. She sat down on the sofa at the other end of the room, and when John sat, too, she scooted over to wrap her leg around his.
They chatted for a few minutes, mostly about the dinner they had just eaten. John listened as the tapping on his computer returned to Sherlock’s normal, break-neck speed, and then he made his move. Setting down his wineglass, John moved his hand to stroke the knuckle of his index finger up Jenny’s stocking-clad leg.
That was all the invitation she needed. She swiveled on the sofa and sat in John’s lap, her bent knees straddling his thighs. She attacked his mouth, thrusting her tongue and nipping his bottom lip.
Quite frankly, John hated it. He hated the way she possessively wrenched her fingers into his hair and ground down onto his unexcited lap. If he had intended to see this girl in the future, he might have told her so; she was a nice and intelligent girl, but she had a few things to learn about a proper kissing technique.
But, none of that mattered; he simply had a point to make. John returned the kiss, angling his head so that their noses didn’t mash together, and he kept his eyes open to watch Sherlock.
At first, Sherlock stared fixedly at the laptop, though he had stopped typing; his cheeks were turning a delicate shade of pink. John had to close his eyes in a wince (a too-hard nip to his upper lip), and when he opened them again, he found Sherlock staring at him.
Their eyes met, and John held his gaze even as he continued to kiss Jenny. Sherlock’s face was carefully blank, but John saw the flush creeping down his neck.
Jenny began kissing down his jaw and lower, biting in a way that was still more painful that pleasant. As she reached his collar, she moved her hands from where they were ripping out his hair to unbutton the top of his shirt. She slid her hand across his chest, and John saw Sherlock flinch and look away before turning back. His face had hardened into a stare that would have looked defiant to anyone else.
However, John had known Sherlock for over three-and-a-half years. He secretly prided himself in knowing his flatmate better than anyone, including Mycroft. So, when Sherlock stared at John with that stony look in his eye and his chin titled slightly upward as if in challenge, John felt ashamed.
In his unconscious Study in Sherlock, John had seen, and caused, that expression on two unforgettable occasions.
The first time was several years ago, about a month after the Pool. They had been walking down the street and arguing about the motivation of a serial killer who had just been apprehended in France. Sherlock had just made some remark about John’s self-evident “idiocy,” and John, in anger, had said, “Love can make you do some pretty crazy things – not that you’d have a clue about any of that.”
Sherlock stopped walking in the middle of the street, and John was a few steps ahead before he noticed. Seconds later, Sherlock had hailed a taxi, and John saw that defiant look on his face as the cab pulled away from the curb.
The second time had been when Sherlock had returned from the dead. John had been in his grubby new flat, sitting much as Sherlock was now. He had been trying to think of something, _anything_ to write in his blog to appease Ella. Instead, he found his gaze drawn to the hit counter, still stuck at 1895, and how he couldn’t reset it because that would be like erasing another little part of their life together.
Then there had been a knock on the door, and he had ignored it, convinced it was the landlord asking for the rent again. The knocking was followed by a rattle in the lock, and John was on his feet to give the bastard a piece of his mind when the door had burst open and Sherlock stumbled into the room, dropping his lock-picking set on the floor.
He had been skinnier than ever, his shirt clinging loosely to his less-defined chest. He’d gained dark circles under his eyes which matched John’s own, and he was sporting a shorter ginger haircut that was just beginning to curl again. His coat, of infinitely less quality than the Belstaff, was dirty and ragged at the cuffs. But, he was unmistakably Sherlock.
Straightening up, he closed the door behind him. Then, he had smiled one of those rare Sherlock smiles, the one John hadn’t been able to picture except while dreaming.
“John. I’m back.”
John had strode forward and punched Sherlock squarely in the jaw. The punch sent Sherlock to the floor, sprawled over the threadbare, landlord-provided rug. He had sat there for a long minute, and then he had pushed himself up; he stood tall with his fists clenched loosely at his sides, his features hardened in challenge. | 458791664e7f45af89557fbaff4e383c | ['766b85bb487c4110bfbd2686582385a9'] |
You Owe Me
**Author's Note:**
> Written for the fuckyeahjohnlockfanfic Red Pants contest
>
> Beta'd by the lovely Becky and Casey -- thanks so much, dears!
Sometime in the month before the blog hit it big and Sherlock started taking more paid cases, John ran out of pants.
Well, that’s not entirely accurate. It’s more that he got tired of doing laundry every few days in order to have clean underwear. He hadn’t brought a lot of usable clothing home from Afghanistan (the heat tended to ruin everything), and he honestly hadn’t done much of anything while living in that bedsit, aside from mandatory trips to visit Ella and watching entirely too much telly. But, now that he had a somewhat active social life, his part-time job at the clinic, and his full-time job of watching after Sherlock, he couldn’t really afford to spend that much time downstairs, doing laundry.
So, John found himself stopping at Marks & Spencer on the way home from the clinic one day, prowling through the sale section for a serviceable multipack of briefs. There were only a couple which would fit, one with a frankly _alarming_ texture and the other a three-pack of red and white cotton pants. They were nothing like he had ever bought before, having gravitated toward the simple white or grey varieties, but they were the right style, the right size, and the right price. When he had this month’s rent to worry about, he couldn’t afford to be choosy about what he was wearing under his clothes.
He bought the marked-down pants and thought nothing of it until a week later when Sherlock saw them sitting in his laundry basket.
“What are these?” he asked, plucking them out of the basket with a curious look on his face.
“Obvious, isn’t it?” John said, trying to snatch them back. Sherlock simply held them over his head and continued to peer at them, fox-like. He stretched the elastic waist between his hands.
“Oddly enough, no,” Sherlock replied. “These are decidedly not your style, John.”
“They’re not, but they were on sale and no one’s going to see them anyway, considering the luck I’ve been having. Now, give them back.”
Sherlock complied, tucking his thumb into the band and shooting them at John’s head. He managed to scoop them out of the air before they hit his face. Sherlock smirked.
John refolded the pants and set them back in the basket. “You’re not going to forget that I own these, are you?”
Sherlock let out a quick snort before moving toward the kitchen. “Doubtful.”
And John was right -- Sherlock didn’t forget about the pants. Or at least he didn’t let John forget about them, as they popped up in odd ways around the flat.
The first pair was consigned to the bin when Sherlock cut them apart to use the waistband as a ligature for one of his experiments. John walked into the kitchen to find his laundry basket on the floor by the worktop where he had left it, while the white elastic was wrapped around a cadaver leg Sherlock was messily injecting with a blue liquid. The red fabric, sheared away from the elastic, was lying forlornly on the table.
“What in the name of--”
Sherlock didn’t look up from his work, sinking a syringe anew into the leg. “It was the closest thing on hand.”
John jerked forward and pulled the knot in the elastic loose; instantly, the blue fluid began to ooze onto the worktop and drip onto the floor. Sherlock glared at him. “Was that entirely necessary?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you made the mess. You can clean it up.” With that, Sherlock abandoned his work and stalked off to his room, slamming the door behind him.
John never did manage to get those blue stains out of the lino.
John walked into the kitchen another day to find a second pair covered in permanent marker. An orange liquid was bubbling away in a pan on the hob, the microwave was counting down from two hours and thirteen minutes, and Sherlock was no where to be found. John’s pants had apparently been used as scrap notepaper.
He picked up the marker and scrawled _You owe me two pair now_ across the waistband before grabbing the rest of his laundry and going to his room upstairs. He didn’t see the pants the next time he went downstairs, and he made it a point to keep his laundry away from the kitchen. His surviving pair of red pants managed to stay out of Sherlock’s hands, and they became something rather unremarkable and uncommented upon in his underwear drawer.
And then Sherlock fell.
More accurately, he jumped, but the result was the same. John was alone again with his laptop, his handgun, and weekly therapist appointments, though this time he added the extra pain of staying in 221B after a somehow-worse week with Harry. Having quit at the clinic months ago and not being able to afford anything else (Mrs. Hudson didn’t comment on the smaller rent checks, and if she asked John to take a look at some maintenance issues which might have been better handled by professionals, he wasn’t going to complain -- it gave him something to do, after all), John stayed in their -- _his_ \-- flat, surrounded by their -- _his_ \-- things and stared at the telly a lot.
When he ventured into Sherlock’s room a month later, thinking that he should do _something_ with the man’s clothes, he found that the closet and wardrobe had been emptied, the shelves and bedside table free of books and papers. John shut the door behind him quietly as he left the room and reexamined the sitting room, now noticing that some papers were missing from the desk, along with Sherlock’s laptop and, most infuriating, his violin. |
e19adb2069f04af484ef027d8b8a89c0 | ['7670a28549894eecae97f8950c8a1a04'] | Babysitting: Loki Style
"And remember, you signed a disclosure agreement. You tell us everything that happens here tonight and tell the media nothing!" Tony snaps at the poor petrified teenage girl.
"Y-y-y-yes Mr. Stark-Rogers…" she squeaked. Steve rolled his eyes, tugging his husband's arm to pull him away.
"Come on Tony. We're going to be late." Steve understands where Tony is coming from, he really does. It's their first time leaving Peter with a babysitter and since he was a year old, that was saying something. They hadn't even let the other Avengers take him to babysit.
"Steve, maybe we should-"
"No!" Steve snapped. Tony jumped, glancing at him in surprise. Steve felt the blush rising on his cheeks, but leaned forward to whisper to him anyway, "Tony, it has been a year since I have had sex with you and we have dinner at a nice place and a rented hotel room. I am going to have sex with you tonight and I would prefer if we did not do that in front of our one year old and a teenager." He tugged on Tony's tie and the man now willingly followed. "We'll be back tomorrow morning." He called to the girl. The girl nodded.
"Okay." She sighed, turning to the baby. "Hi Peter! I know your Daddies are super protective, but I can handle you!" she cooed, reaching down to pull the bright-eyed boy into her arms.
"I'm certain that you could, but I have to ask you to leave."
She squeaked, spinning to face the man who had suddenly appeared behind her.
"W-W-Who are you?" The man rolled his eyes.
"I am Loki, of Asgard. And I will take him, now." He cleanly slipped Peter from her arms and made a shooing motion towards the door.
Maybe it was the stress of having Tony Stark-Rogers scream at her for an hour. Maybe it was the scary leather clad Asgardian. That teenage girl bolted out the door and into the stairwell, never to return to Stark Tower ever again.
Loki held the child up across from him, eye to eye.
"Peter Stark-Rogers." He drawled. "What is so special about you? The media is a flurry of activity. The Avengers do their best to protect you. What is it?" Peter grinned brightly, before reaching over and tugging on a lock of Loki's hair.
Loki leaned back, eyes widening in surprise.
"You dare to touch me that way peasant! I am Loki of Asgard, future ruler of Midgard and-"
"Loukee." Peter leaned forward again, tugging once more at the god's hair. "Pretty!" he chirped, giggling happily.
Loki blinked.
* * *
Tony grinned cheesily, holding Steve against the elevator wall. "We should go out more often." He ground his hips against the other man's.
"Tony!" Steve hissed, "We're going to scar the poor girl watching-" The elevator door dinged open and he groaned, burying his face in Tony's neck. The poor innocent girl…
"You signed a disclosure agreement!" Tony chirped, not looking from Steve's red face, smug grin still in place.
"Oh calm yourselves. That is nothing I have not seen before, and I have signed no such agreement."
They spun to face the God of Mischief, Peter held in his arms.
"Put him down!" Steve snapped.
"Jarvis!" Tony shouted, "Deploy!" he waited for the Iron Man suit to come rocketing to him. No response. Loki rolled his eyes.
"Oh Valhalla. Calm down. Sir Jarvis, I assure you no deploying is necessary." Loki spoke to the ceiling.
"I am aware Master Loki."
"Master Loki?" Tony echoed. Steve stared on in confusion. Loki carefully handed the sleeping Peter over to Steve. He slipped by them and in to the elevator.
"Remember Stark-Rogers family, I am always available for babysitting, just mention my name." he crouched slightly, eye to eye with the smiling Peter. "Goodbye Prince Peter. You are a delight." He grinned.
"Loukee!" Peter cheered, as the elevator doors shut. Steve and Tony stared on. | 3f6a55a6b794414a8ebbb7d73382d356 | ['7670a28549894eecae97f8950c8a1a04'] | Clint tugged him forward by the tie, smirking in the area he knew to be his face.
"Yes, well, I have some other ideas for today." He stated pointedly. Phil chuckled, but willingly moved forward again.
Oh yes. Clint would like this day.
* * *
Clint liked today's activities much better than yesterday's activities. There was a bit of exercise, if rolling around on the couch making out counted as exercise. There was a lot of talking, about feelings, work, and random topics. And _a lot_ of making out. But he had mentioned that already. It was his favorite part.
The night once again saw Clint forcing Phil into bed with him. The only difference is that this time Clint felt free to snuggle in tight against the other agent.
"What do you think Natasha is going to think about us?" Clint wondered idly. He knew that she would be absolutely fine with it. If anything, the withering looks she sent his way whenever he had stared after Coulson had told him that she was annoyed with his pining. Phil chuckled.
"Are you kidding? She'll be thrilled. Well, as thrilled as she can be. I believe she was planning on locking us in a closet if we didn't get together soon." Clint snorted.
"Please, I could totally climb out, into the vent, no matter what closet she put me into."
"You think she wouldn't be waiting there to throw you back in? She is nothing if not thorough." Clint nodded.
"Touché." After a few minutes of comfortable silence leading up to sleep, Clint moved.
Clint smiled, nuzzling a little farther into Phil's neck. He blinked open his eyes briefly, taking one last look at Phil's smiling face, before shutting his eyes again and going off to bed.
He would remember why it felt odd to be seeing something later.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I was going to make this longer, but I didn't want to force it. If I added anything else to the chapter, it made it seem rushed.
5. Chapter 5
Clint blinked awake, stretching like a cat. He took in his surroundings, recognizing his bed and his Phil. He blinked again. Hold up. Something wasn't right…
It took him a few moments.
"WHOOP!"
Jumping from the bed, Clint back flipped. He froze as soon as he landed, spinning around. Phil was still asleep. Good. Why not give him an amusing heart attack?
He got into position…
"Waaaaaake uuuup…Phil….waaaaaake uuuuuup."
Someone was singing in his ear. He blinked awake warily, assessing his surroundings. He was in a (now somewhat familiar) bed that did not belong to him. He was comfortable and given that he was awaken through singing, there was no trouble. On the other hand, if there was trouble, then he was in a Disney musical and given his work at SHIELD, he would not be surprised if he was in an alternate dimension where this was true. However, this was not true.
Phil leaned up, attempting to figure out where Clint's singing voice had come from. When he did, he nearly had a heart attack, panic rising through his stomach and into his throat, sweat starting to grow at the base of his spine.
Therefore, Clint saw him blink and raise an eyebrow.
"Clint, what are you doing?" he questioned, voice tightly controlled. Clint raised his own eyebrow, smirking.
"Hanging upside down from the water pipes." He chirped back charmingly. Phil refrained from dropping his face into his hands.
"And, this is a good idea, given that you cannot see at the moment?" he questioned tightly. Clint's smirk widened, shrugging.
"Eh. Whatever." His smirk turned to a genuine grin, "By the way, I love the fact that you're wearing purple, blue, and green plaid. It looks good." Clint nodded.
It took Phil a couple seconds to process that.
He shot off the bed, reaching for his clothing.
"Your eyesight is back. You need to go to medical, so they can determine the extent of your recovery, and if it is permanently back or if it is a temporary return, and…" Phil continued to talk, but he turned the majority of his attention to watching Clint crawl upside down across the pipes lining the roof of his bedroom. His lips quirked up just the tiniest bit when Clint flipped down to stand in front of him.
"I am not going back to medical." Clint determined, interrupting him. He gave him the look that said he meant business and Phil sighed. He didn't know whether it was because he suddenly realized how adorable that look was (like a puppy begging for a treat) or because he knew that Clint would sneak out of medical the instant he got the chance.
"I know." He agreed. "And, I am even saying that as your handler. It's too much trying to get you to go to medical when you're bleeding out, let alone when nothing is obviously wrong with you." Clint nodded eagerly.
"Yup! Besides, I have better ideas about what we could be doing right now…" he trailed off suggestively, raising an eyebrow. Phil sighed. That sounded amazing, but three days of missing work would already have his workload piling up.
"Your eyesight is back and I still have paperwork to do. I-" Phil paused as his phone started vibrating.
_Shut up. Paperwork is done. Take care of Barton now or he'll end up bringing sex to the office. –NF_
Clint glanced over his shoulder, eyes widening. Phil groaned, awaiting the freak out. Clint didn't disappoint.
"He has my apartment bugged?! And he's been watching us?! GET OUT YOU FREAKING CREEPER! THAT HAS TO BE AGAINST SOME SORT OF LAW! OUT! GET OUT! I'M CALLING NATASHA! SHE'LL GO ALL RUSSIAN ON YOUR ASS FURY! GET OUT! OUT! YOUR FREAKING CREEPER!"
Phil rolled his eyes, affectionately tugging him closer.
"Enough."
"No! That is not _enough_ I-"
Phil ignored him, tugging him back to bed.
That shut him up real quick.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Comic relief epilogue is comic-y relief-y. Finished! Hope the prompter liked it! Yeah, I know right up after the fourth chapter. I just didn't want to drag it out and I won't be online again (I think) until next week, so...
**Author's Note:**
> Let's go with the excuse that this is the prologue and that is the reason it's so short. Don't worry though, the other chapters will be longer. |
75d5485a9d8f439a870e83108bb7d6a5 | ['767226ac74fb43a9bdccb182a353c700'] | "Tae! Tae! Stop- I- can't- breathe-" You squeal between breaths, your legs still flailing wildly. In order to keep from getting hit by your legs, Taehyung crawls over you, situating himself until he was basically straddling your waist, still continuing to tickle you, but a bit less harsh than before.
"I won't stop until you admit that you love me," Taehyung states playfully, still tickling you with a small grin on his features.
"Fine- fine- I love- you- TaeTae," You say between squeals as he continued to tickle you.Taehyung giggles softly, finally ceasing his relentless tickling attack.
"I love you too, Y/n," Taehyung says smiling widely and crawling off of you. You stick your tongue out at him playfully, causing him to giggle. You sit up on the couch, crossing your arms and pouting.
"Awe come on Y/n all I did was tickle you," he says, pouting back at you when you don't respond. You simply look away from him, still pouting. "Yyyy/nnnnnn," Taehyung whined, wrapping his arms around you. You still attempt to ignore him, but it's not working as well as he begins to pepper you cheeks with kisses.
"Taaaeeee," you mumble, your cheeks flushing a bit red.
"What? I can't hear you," He giggles softly, still kissing your cheeks over and over.
"Stoooop," You giggle, biting your lip slightly as you continue blushing brightly.
"I don't wanna," Taehyung says, pulling back and pouting his lips. Your eyes drift down to his pouting lips, biting your own slightly. His hand reaches up and his thumb runs over your lower lip. "You shouldn't bite your lip... It might start bleeding," Taehyung whispers softly, leaning into you slightly. You blush brightly, your eyes still focused on his lips and his on yours. Within moments, the space between you two was gone and your lips were pressed against each other. Taehyung's arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him as you kissed him back sweetly.
Your fingers thread through Taehyung's hair. At that moment in time, Yoongi found that it was the best time to walk into the room.Yoongi's eyes widen at the sight of you two kissing.
"Yah! Get a room," He yells, causing you and Taehyung to break apart, both of you blushing brightly.
"S-sorry Yoongi-hyung..." Taehyung states, his cheeks bright red as he looks down at the ground causing Yoongi to simply roll his eyes at the younger before leaving the room. Taehyung giggles softly before leaning back towards you.
"I really do love you, Y/n," Taehyung whispers in your ear..
"I love you, too, Tae," You whisper back softly, pulling him back to you again and colliding your lips once more. | 35d00ce8873046878088ad17b867368a | ['767226ac74fb43a9bdccb182a353c700'] | "Fuck noona... I am close," Jungkook moans out softly from beneath you. You let out little pants continuing to bounce up and down while trying to keep yourself from coming before Jungkook does. His words make you bounce down onto him faster, moving your hand down to wrap around the base of his dick as well to add to his pleasure. "Fuck... fuck... fuck," He moans louder and louder before finally releasing inside of you, causing you to moan loudly.
"Fuck daddy can I come now please? Please," You whimper, still bouncing up and down on Jungkook's dick. Jungkook whimpers from below you.
"Come baby... come all over Jungkook's cock for me," Jaebum whispers seductively into your ear, his own moans filling your ear. You throw your head back in pleasure as you come on Jungkook's dick, just as Jaebum instructed you to. Low groans and pants leave your lips as your legs shake as you come down from your high. You feel a warm substance hit your back and Jaebum's low moans. You open you're eyes and turn to see Jaebum with his hand wrapped around his dick, having just came all over your back and Jungkook's thighs.
You look down to see a whimpering Jungkook, looking entirely fucked out already,
"Can you uncuff me now?" He asks timidly, pulling his arms slightly.
"Uncuff you?" Jaebum smirks slightly. "Now why would we do that... after all we are just getting started."
2. Part 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Summary: A continuation of your, Jaebum and Jungkook's night after Jungkook's accidental appearance during your and Jaebum's sexy time.
> Warning(s): Smut, Daddy kink, handcuffs
> Author's Note: Well, here we go, the second and final part. Once again, I'm still a somewhat newbie to writing smut so try not to judge me too harshly. Yet again, I wrote this during the time that I was supposed to be working on school work... whoops, well whatever, that English essay doesn't matter that much anyways. Also, I'm sorry that this is kind of lame compared to the first part, but still I hope you enjoy.
> And having said that, I will now bid you adieu, happy reading!
"J-just getting started?" Jungkook asks timidly, looking between you and Jaebum warily. "N-noona, what does he mean just getting started?" You and Jaebum both smirk at each other.
"Exactly what he said, baby boy," You tell Jungkook smirking. "Daddy, what do you want to do to him now?" Jaebum hums softly before returning to your secret stash of sex toys in the closet.
"Let's see what we've got here..." He says, shuffling through the box on the top shelf a smirk gracing his face. You smirk as well, looking to Jungkook who was squirming on the bed, trying to get the cuff to come off.
"Noona...D-daddy," Jungkook says warily. "What are you going to do to me?" He says his voice trembling, causing you to smirk even more.
"We're going to pleasure you, baby," Jaebum hums softly, finally pulling a dildo out of the box. You turn to see the item in Jaebum's hands the smirk on your face only growing.
"Daddy~" You coo at Jaebum. "Can I pleasure him?" You ask, causing Jaebum to raise an eyebrow at you before passing you the dildo.
You smile widely at Jaebum. "Thank you, Daddy," You hum, walking towards Jungkook who had a bit of a wary look on his face.
"N-noona," Jungkook blinks at you as you smirk at him. He visibly gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing as you hold up the dildo in his field of vision.
"What do you want me to do?" You smirk at Jungkook. He tries pulling his hands down to touch you, but the handcuffs clatter against the headboard, restricting him from doing so.
"I want d-daddy to fuck me," Jungkook stutters, looking towards Jaebum who stands in the corner looking like a deer in the headlights. You huff slightly, pouting. "I want daddy to fuck me... while you fuck yourself... with that," He adds, biting his lower lip before looking back at you. Jaebum smirks slightly.
"I think I like this idea..." He hums softly, looking between you and Jungkook. You just nod slightly, not wanting to go against Jaebum's wishes. Jaebum walks towards Jungkook whose cheeks were a bit red. He pulls at the handcuffs again. Jaebum's lips turn up more in a smirk. "Tell me what you want, baby boy," Jaebum hums, kneeling on the bed in front of Jungkook.
"I want you, daddy," Jungkook bites his lip. "I want you to fuck me... while noona fucks herself with the dildo," He says trying to be as confident as possible. Both yours and Jaebum's lips turn up more in wide smirks.
"Then that's what you'll get," Jaebum hums into his ear. "Neither of you can cum until I say so," He states sternly looking between you two. You both nod your heads in understanding. You purse your lips slightly, watching as Jaebum lines himself up with Jungkook's hole. Jungkook moans out, slightly pained as Jaebum pushes into him.
"Fuck," Jungkook squirms under Jaebum's touch.
"Stop swearing, " He slaps Jungkook's ass before pulling out and slamming back into him. Your breath catches as you watch the exchange, completely forgetting about how Jungkook wanted you to be using the dildo on yourself. "Y/n why am I not hearing your pretty little moans?" Jaebum hums, pulling out of Jungkook, who whines in protest. You gulp slightly.
"S-sorry, Daddy," You mumble guiltily before pushing the dildo into your dripping hole slowly, causing you to moan out because you were still a bit sensitive from before. |
d8f83b00328f4282a4f0bbee5a74150a | ['76b1f2ee3e794fbcbe3d1fd33b9f2764'] | Wakatoshi smiles against Satori’s neck. “Will you be patient?” he murmurs, tracing his hands down his sides. Tendou rolls his eyes hard enough Wakatoshi almost wonders how they don’t fall out of his head. But he doesn’t answer. Wakatoshi mouths at his ear, lets his breath fall hot against Satori’s neck. “Please answer, Satori. Will you be _patient_?” He punctuates it with a roll of his hips, so Satori can feel his cock, hard and leaking, against his stomach.
Wakatoshi is rewarded with a shiver, a moan, and a response. “Yes, Toshi. Yes.” And finally, his body goes slack and pliant. His mouth falls open, and his chest heaves with pants. It looks like _surrender_.
Wakatoshi rewards him with a kiss, cupping his cheeks gently. Satori moans and tilts his chin up, but remains still. Wakatoshi feels his stomach flip and squeeze strangely. He just keeps kissing him, slow and filthy, because it’s _amazing_. The sound of their lips and tongues slicking together is delicious, and Wakatoshi holds back his moans so he can hear it better. Usually there’s no time to just enjoy each other like this. Any make out session leads to “more” before Wakatoshi has time to _breathe_. But _this_ , this is unbelievable. Wakatoshi has never kissed anyone like this, has never wanted to. And Tendou letting him? It’s intoxicating.
He pulls back a little and licks at Satori’s lips, just to savor the taste and the hot breath against his skin. He pushes his tongue back in, fat and hot and wet. He knows it should be disgusting, but Satori just whimpers and turns his head so Wakatoshi can get deeper. Wakatoshi tangles one hand into Satori’s perfect hair, and the other drags calloused fingertips down his neck and chest. His hand settles over Satori’s heart, which is beating hard and strong. Satori pushes into his touch, and Wakatoshi’s stomach flips again.
He pulls away, and savors the sight of Satori’s face. His eyebrows are drawn up slightly – he looks surprised and vulnerable. His cheeks are flushed, pretty and pink, matching his hair, which is sticking to his face. Wakatoshi smooths it back. Satori _hum_ s and turns his face into Wakatoshi’s palm, and his eyes flutter open. They’re soft and hazy, focusing lazily on Wakatoshi’s face. He smiles, and it almost looks shy.
“Wow,” Satori breathes. Wakatoshi smiles back. _Cute_.
Wakatoshi kisses slowly down Satori’s neck, testing how he likes the sensation. Satori moans, and Wakatoshi feels it rattle through his throat. He swirls his tongue into that space between Satori’s collarbones again, and his hips twitch, but fall still. He keeps moving down, shuffling his hips back carefully to straddle across his upper thighs. Satori shivers and shakes as their cocks brush together, arms tightening.
“Shit, _shit_ , sorry,” Satori gets out, trying to calm himself. Wakatoshi thinks his dick might explode and he can’t say anything, so he just noses against the curve of his ear and pets his hair until he stills.
“Can I keep going?” Wakatoshi asks, pressing a little kiss to Satori’s clavicle.
Tendou laughs, surprised. “ _Yes_ , I’m ready, fuck me.”
“Not yet,” Wakatoshi whispers, licking one of his nipples.
Satori groans, and his hips stutter again. “I didn’t realize you were such a masochist.”
Wakatoshi bites the little pink nub, harshly, just to hear Satori’s breath stutter and the little yelp it will get him. “I’m not. I’m enjoying this immensely.” He glances up, see’s Satori’s wrecked face again, and he feels himself flush. “You’re beautiful,” he says.
Satori _quivers_ beneath him. “ _Wakatoshi,_ ” he whines, twisting away.
Wakatoshi swallows the other compliments, and puts his mouth to better use. He shifts over to Satori’s other nipple, pointing his tongue and flicking it over the little bud. Satori’s breath stutters out, and his eyes close softly. Wakatoshi keeps at it, until it’s swollen and red and shiny and hard, and Satori is panting again. He sucks a small mark into Satori’s pectoral, feeling the muscle jump and shift under his tongue. He moves down further, licking lightly and teasing with his teeth. Satori stutters out a laugh and squirms as Wakatoshi’s stubble rubs across his stomach, so Wakatoshi lingers there, sucking another bruise into the soft flesh of his side while Satori shudders and tries to get away. Wakatoshi presses his hands firmly into Satori’s hips, pinning him.
_“Toshi,_ ” he moans, going lax again.
“Good,” Wakatoshi praises. He can feel Satori’s cock bounce somewhere around his chin, but he doesn’t want to get there quite yet. He pushes his tongue into Satori’s bellybutton, just to hear him laugh again.
“Wakatoshi,” Satori says again, but this time he’s scolding. Wakatoshi ducks his head, giggling. “Are you _laughing?”_ he says indignantly.
“I can’t help it,” he whispers, a smile still pulling at his lips. “You’re too _cute_.” Satori turns his face into his arm, hiding. Wakatoshi keeps talking anyway. “If only they could see me now. Ushijima Wakatoshi, laughing like a fool, in bed. They’d be so surprised,” he purrs. “But they’ll never see me. I’m all yours, Satori. Just yours.” Wakatoshi watches carefully for the reaction.
He isn’t disappointed. Satori gasps and moans, his loudest reaction yet. His eyes close tightly, and his hips jerk, completely against his will. Wakatoshi groans and moves down one more time, taking the head of Satori’s cock in his mouth. Luckily, he has his hands pressing Satori down into the bed, because he immediately pushes up into his mouth. Wakatoshi pulls away, and he can’t help but smirk. This is going better than he could have imagined.
“I thought you were going to behave,” he says, feigning disappointment. | 98f4820c42524887bf9642b77cfd7009 | ['76b1f2ee3e794fbcbe3d1fd33b9f2764'] | Bokuto, breathless, props himself on his elbows to look down at him. (It’s beyond absurd, making eye contact with Kuroo while his fully erect dick bobs obscenely between them, Kuroo’s lips shiny with pre-cum and spit as they have a fucking _conversation.)_ “What?” he pants.
“Kuroo is my family name,” he says in a rush, fingers smoothing gently along Bokuto’s thighs. “Tetsurou is – is what I want you to call me.”
“Tetsurou?” he murmurs, tasting the name on his tongue. It’s good, especially when Kuroo – Tetsurou – smiles, nods, and takes his cock back into his mouth.
Bokuto shivers – his body temperature is just cool enough that Bokuto can _really_ feel it, can really feel every single part of him that glides across his skin. “Tetsurou,” he whispers again. It’s new and intimate. He lets his eyes slide closed on a sigh as he rests his head back on the bed.
Which is why the first touch against his asshole comes as a surprise.
He clenches with surprise, breath hitching. Kuroo hmms comfortingly. When Bokuto peeks down, Kuroo is looking back at him, studying his reactions. Bokuto gives a shakey nod, mustering the coordination to push against the slick, intruding touch. Bokuto gets the feeling that Kuroo is smiling as he presses his finger to Bokuto’s entrance.
It’s _different_ with someone else doing it. It’s like electricity zipping through his veins, skipping up his spine. He hasn’t exactly been quiet, but now he knows he’s loud, whining and moaning and gasping even though Kuroo has only worked one finger in. He bites down, choking on the noises in embarrassment.
“Don’t,” Kuroo orders harshly, driving in with his fingers. Bokuto’s back bows forward, off the mattress, curling over Kuroo below him. “I want to hear everything.”
“It’s – I, I…K-kuroo – _Tetsurou,_ please, I…”
“Shhh,” he murmurs, kissing the sensitive skin of Bokuto’s inner thigh. “I’ve got you.”
And Kuroo presses in a second finger. Suddenly, Bokuto is aware of something _else_ inside him – a little spot that he’s never really be able to get at properly by himself, some hot-shivery-flare that makes his whole body come alive.
“Kuroo, a little – go a little more up, like…no, a little- _fuck!”_ Bokuto sees stars with Kuroo rubs his fingers over the spot.
“There?” Kuroo asks smugly. Bokuto babbles in response, _yes_ , and _please,_ and _oh god, oh god Kuroo!_ Kuroo drives in with a third finger before he’s totally ready. He winces, a little.
But he immediately feels a wave of the thrall wash over him. Kuroo is ever attentive; it’s only enough to make him go loose again and take away the worst of the sting. He sighs dreamily as he lets his head fall back on the pillow.
“Are you ready?” Kuroo asks, a touch nervously. “Can – can I?”
Bokuto shivers at the sweet request. He spreads his legs a little farther, feeling greedy and wanton, hoping he looks that way too. (If Kuroo’s little gasp is anything to go by, he does. A warm feeling floods through him at the thought.)
Bokuto keeps his eyes shut as he hears Kuroo get off the floor, then shuffle out of his clothes, then grab for the bottle of lube. He keeps them shut tight as Kuroo arranges them on the bed, nudging him to lie horizontally, and kneels between his legs. Bokuto trembles when Kuroo’s strong hands tug at his shirt, encouraging him to lift up so Kuroo can take it off. Bokuto whines embarrassingly when Kuroo spreads his legs apart, fighting the urge to clamp them shut again.
“Open your eyes, Bo,” Kuroo whispers, sweet and filthy.
“I – I can’t,” he replies, feeling shivery and hot and like his skin is stretched out too thin over his body.
“I want to see them,” Kuroo murmurs, kissing his cheeks reverently, slowly. “I want to watch you take my cock for the first time.”
And that makes Bokuto _shiver,_ down to his toes, sets loose a spark of heat that rockets through his stomach and makes him gasp. His eyes roll, just a little, so by default they flutter open to reveal Kuroo over him. He’s got the strangest expression on his face – excitement and awe and hunger all wrapped into one. As Bokuto blinks up at him, he licks his lips, slowly.
“Same rule still applies.” Kuroo locks eyes with him. “You tell me to stop, I stop. You want to slow down, I slow down. You’re in control of that.” Kuroo leans down to let his lips brush against Bokuto’s ear. “I’m in control of everything else. Let me do all the work. Let me make you feel _good_ , Bo, _please._ Please let me,” he begs, voice low and reedy.
And that’s about as much as Bokuto can take. No amount of nerves or shyness or even actual pain could make him deny _that_. He bares his neck in a show of submission – he tracks the movement of Kuroo’s eyes over the delicate skin and feels a flare of triumph.
“Ready?” Kuroo asks him one last time.
“I’m ready.”
Kuroo presses inside. |
547e8e42f47e4fbbaba1ca5dfea3ff3d | ['76c902daccb2433595903a5c6255c46f'] | Papyrus flipped one blade to hold in reverse, the teeth of the back of the blade now taking the dominate side. He swung it hard, hooking the teeth to the heads of the spear and jerked it aside, snapping the point off. He drank in Undyne's expression of shock at the feat as the magical spear shattered in her hands. _'Tsk tsk. You should know better than to leave yourself wide open!'_ His grin turned shark-like as her stunned looked switched to that pain as he backhand slammed the teeth of the other sword against her chest with surprising force. The teeth puncture through and tore at the armor, ripping strips from it as she flew back from the blow. Several bones shot after her in a follow up.
The fish warrior hurtled back, screaming in both shock and pain. _'How…? How did he do that!?'_ No one had ever shattered her spear before! The thought was banished as she managed to twist in the air to get her legs under her before landing, gritting her teeth at force that jarred her legs. She didn't get much of a chance to dodge as the bones caught up to her and rammed into her, tearing a cry of pain from her as they sent her sprawling onto her back. She panted as she struggled to her knees and eyed Papyrus racing forward for another attack. Her hand touched her chest armor and flinched at the buckled and mangled metal. Thankfully the armor had saved her from a crushing blow but the teeth still left cuts on her chest.
“Holy shit… if this is what Papyrus could do without holding back… then I don't know who's in more trouble… us monsters in the underground or humanity.” She whispered to herself, throwing herself to the side in evasion of another Gaster Blaster attack, the beam decimating several trees behind her. She sent off another barrage of spears at him, trying to buy some time to recover. “Who the hell am I kidding? Both are royal screwed. Hell, if I hadn't fought Asgore before, I'd say this Papyrus is stronger or equal to the king.”
Bones peeked from the ground under her and only had seconds to let out a string of curses before smaller bones launched themselves at her in attempt to trip her. She bounced lightly on her feet, avoiding them, awkwardly dancing around them as the ground came alive with dozens of small bones. As she pranced to avoid them as best as possible, several others turned in place to target her before erupting from their places, slamming into her sides in a pincher, digging into the armor that protected her body. It saved her from being skewered completely, it still delivered a painful blow, cracking one of her ribs. Her armor wouldn't be able to protect her for long, of that she was certain. Another blow and the magical metal would shatter, not that it would matter… she was dipping dangerously below half heath.
Anymore and she'll be dust.
A lone bone peeked from the ground before her.
Undyne gritted her teeth as she glared at it. Well, so much for not being skewered. “Fffuuuck...” she hissed as she struggled against the bones that kept her trapped where she was.
_ **“Congratulations, Captain.”**_ Papyrus smirked, his eyes still burning that eerie orange flame. The bone slid out a little more from the ground, aligning itself to pierce the former captain's body. _**“That was quite the battle. You ARE as strong as you had claimed.”**_
Undyne directed her glare toward him, lips pulled back in a snarl at his arrogance. If killing this Papyrus didn't mean that her dear friend would also die at the same time, she would enjoy punching his teeth to the back of his skull for mocking her.
_ **“Sadly, Captain… this won't happen again.”**_ The knight's smile turned deadly, the bone in the ground, sliding further out to catch her attention. Undyne ignored it, her gaze trained on her enemy. Papyrus allowed himself a secret smile at her focus. Just as strong and stubborn as he knew her to be. A pity that it'll all end right here… right now. _**“I'll end this quickly for old times sake.”**_
He flicked his hand and the bone shot out from the ground like an arrow, aiming to spear the warrior and reduce her to dust.
Undyne shook slightly in fear but refused to tear her gaze away from Papyrus, glaring at him. If this was it then… she did all she could to buy Sans the time he needed. The rest was left up to him. She closed her eyes, summoning an image of her greatest treasure that was so dear to her. _'I'm sorry Alphys… I-'_
_CRACK!_
The sound startled Undyne out of her trance, knowing that wasn't the sound of her turning into dust. That was the sound of something hard shattering against something equally as hard. She blinked against the bright green light that flashed before her, recognizing it. “What..?”
The bone that had been designed to deliver Undyne's death shattered against the familiar green barrier. Another large crack had formed on it, showing the amount of power behind the bone that the shield had struggled to keep away from her. Once again, the little green heart hovered before former captain protectively as it continued to maintain the shield.
Beyond the shield was Papyrus, glaring in rage as his attack was again blocked by the damnable human soul. If it weren't for the fact he needed this soul to complete the log time plan of breaking the barrier with seven human souls, he would break the damn thing into a million of pieces for being a thorn in his side.
But… | 4379db026f4544058023ac1ada9ce260 | ['76c902daccb2433595903a5c6255c46f'] | Worry spiked through him for a moment before replaced with irritation. Henrik exhaled, the rush of breath hissing through his teeth in annoyance. “I swear to god, if he’s playing another game instead of eating, I’m shoving his microphone stand up his ass sideways.” He griped, abandoning the need to knock on the door a third time; and choosing to rifle around for the hidden spare key. Jack always locked his door when he came home to record. He always had that fear of people walking in while he was distracted by games so he always locked the door behind himself.
It took the good doctor a moment to find the key, hidden behind a compartment of the joke hallway key rack placed by the door. As if anyone would openly leave their keys there. But behind it, thanks to a bit of Marvin’s magic, was the key. Grumbling to himself mostly to keep the worry at bay, he fitted the key in and unlocked the door, slipping inside. The moment he entered the house was when the worry he kept ignoring, whispered to him.
_Something’s not right. _
The house was eerily quiet, the interior dark; save for the light coming through the window. Thankfully, sunset wasn’t until another few hours, so it wasn’t that dark. But it was enough to say that no one was here… or the resident was asleep.
“Jack?” Henrik called out quizzically, wondering what the hell the youtuber was doing. The house _shouldn’t_ be _this quiet,_ even if he lived on his own, there was always that something. Something that made the home more lively. But that _something _was missing, leaving the house to be as quiet as a tomb.
The doctor shook his head, scolding himself for such a bad analogy, stepping further into the house to close the door behind him and set the key aside on a side table. “Jack, are you home?” Maybe he went out on a walk? He had been going on runs… but… no one has seen him since Halloween. “Are you alright? Are you sick?”
_Silence._
Taking a breath to steel himself against the feeling of uncertainty that wrapped around him. Then flinched at the scent of something foul. It was faint but it was definitely there. Was something rotting? “All right, something is definitely wrong...” He murmured as he ventured into the house, wincing at sound of his own footsteps seemed to unnerve him further. He was closest to the kitchen and decided to check it out, since the living didn’t offer any clues besides it being empty of the Irish youtuber.
The kitchen, on the other hand, was just as empty of a person… yet it did offer a couple of clues. For one, it was missing a table and the remnants of a cooked meal were still present, so he did eat. But there was a problem.
The dishes had remained in the sink and the part of the scent of rot was coming from here, but not the scent he smelled from the living room near the stairs. That and there was a colony of ants feasting upon the leftovers of what was… chicken? Some kind of meat and vegetables, it was bit difficult to tell with ants all over the sink. Henrik twitched at seeing them thriving there, disturbed and a lot more concerned now. What the hell is this? Everyone knew Jack despised cleaning… but there was no way he would’ve ignored the dishes to let ants just move in.
How long did he leave the kitchen dirty?
“Jack?!” The doctor called out louder, stressing youtuber’s name as he left the ant infested kitchen to search further, his movements no longer hesitant and quiet; concern... _fear_ literally wrapping him up. “My friend, where are you?”
The downstairs bathroom yielded nothing… same with the linen room, save for a pile of dirty clothes begging to be washed. The room left was the bedroom that doubled as the recording room and Henrik was already dashing for it, taking his phone out. He hit speed dial for Marvin. It didn’t even take two rings before the magician picked up.
“_Hello? Hey, Henrik! What’s going on? Jack ok-” _Marvin the Magnificent greeted happily before being cut off by the doctor.
“Marvin, whatever magic show you’re doing, pull a disappearing act and get your ass over to Jack’s house. _NOW!_” He hissed as he passed the kitchen to get to the stairs.
_“Jack’s house? Why? What’s wrong?” _Whatever mirth that had been behind his tone earlier switched to concern and seriousness. _“Hen, are you… are you running?”_
“Yes, I am! Where’s Chase? Just… call everyone to get to the house NOW, Marvin!”
_“__Chase is with me at the magic show...”_
“Magic his ass with you then! Call Jackie and tell him to get here! I don’t know what is going but something is wrong and I need you all here to help me! If I’m guessing right then- Oh god… what is that?”
_“Hen? What is what?”_
Henrik ignored Marvin’s voice, flinching at the scent of rot… it was definitely coming from here. He paled realizing that the scent was originating from here the second floor of the house...
It can’t…
No, the scent wasn’t right. He shook his head, trying to not panic and analyze the scent of rot he was smelling. It wasn’t sickly sweet… not flesh… not a dead body… no… it was a little more bitter and sour.
...pumpkin…?
A rotting pumpkin or the pulp of it..?
Henrik’s eyes scanned the second floor, again not hearing Marvin calling him from the phone. “Why rotting pumpkin…?”
_“Pumpkin? Henrik, are you okay? What’s going on?”_
The doctor’s eyes fell upon the bedroom door, jolting a little at the sight of the door slightly ajar… and from where he stood… could see the room was dark.
Pumpkin…
Pumpkin…
There was rotting pumpkin… |
b6e26b626234474b9e3bb2bb0ef10d6f | ['76d0a7c7f13443c581b0702618373ae2'] | Stiles chuckled softly as he rolled onto his side, stretching one arm beneath Derek’s neck and the other over the curve of his waist, pulling Derek close to him. Kissing his forehead as he whispers a quiet, “I love you,” sliding his eyes shut.
"I love you just a little too much," Derek whispers sleepily before closing his eyes and dozing off.
Stiles jerked awake looking around for his mate before slumping on the stiff bed. He sighed before sitting up, hearing phones ringing in the distance, he walked closer to the bars. Seeing two officers walk by he called out a quick “Hey!” in an attempt to get their attention.
Walking up to the cell, the officer on the left eyed Stiles skeptically, “What do you want?”
To get the fuck out of this place dumbass, is what Stiles originally wanted to reply with but changed tactics quickly, instead replying with, “I’m willing to talk. But I’ll only talk to Officer Dunbar, no one else.”
The two officers silently looked at each other communicating with their eyes before looking back at Stiles and giving him a slight nod. Stiles listened closely as they left, focusing on their conversation as they made their way around the station. “Can you believe that asshole? Where does he think he’s at? A fucking motel? Making requests and shit like he owns this place. Fuck him. We should go get Reyes or even Boyd, that man’s scary as hell for a silent dude, it’ll throw him off his game and knock that cocky look off his face. I don’t take orders from nobody, I’m my own fucking boss.”
A new set of footsteps approached the unaware officer at the end of his rant, “Oh Really? Is that why every time I see you you’re doing absolutely nothing but running your big fat mouth about some shit that no one cares about? Or is it why every second of the day I’m this fucking close to firing your ass? What did Stilinski want?”
Stiles could smell the fear emitting from the young officer all the way from the small room, “Uh s-s-sorry Chief Finstock, sir. He requested to talk to Officer Dunbar and no one else, sir.”
“Liam, interrogation room one!” Finstock barked, staring down the officer in front of him, “And as for you Greenberg my office, now.”
Stiles cackled with glee, he had only listened in to make sure his request went through but the last part was a source of entertainment for him, Greenberg deserved whatever was coming to him.
Stiles smirked as Officer Dunbar entered his sight holding a set of keys, unlocking the cell, the officer lead Stiles to the empty interrogation room gesturing towards one of the chairs. Stiles took the indicated seat, waiting impatiently for the officer to finish inspecting the room for cameras and locking the door before sitting across from him.
"What the fuck are you doing? Why are you demanding to only talk to me?” The brunette hissed as he looked over his shoulder afraid that someone would barge into the room at any moment.
“No one’s coming,” Stiles reassured the man before leaning forward and getting serious, “I need to cash in that favor you owe me.”
Liam stared into the unblinking eyes before letting out a sigh, “What can I do for you?”
“I need you to get me out of here, get them to believe that they’re questioning the wrong person while the real culprit is still out there.” Noticing the disbelief that crossed the younger man’s face Stiles scoffed, “Don't look at me like that, they wouldn't even suspect a thing since you’re innocent little Liam. Plus they’ve had me in here for fucking years. I'm pretty sure that shit is illegal or something. They have nothing on me, they’re just holding me so they can try to find something to pin on me.”
Liam’s eyes widened, shaking his head, “I can’t help you Stiles.”
“Oh yes you can especially after I’ve helped you with your little problem. What was his name again? Samuel? Sam? Oh right, Scott McCall.” Having the young man right where he needed him Stiles growled, “Find a way to get me out. Now.”
Liam nodded his head pushing the chair back, making his way towards the door. Before he could open it Stiles called out to him, “By the way it was Isaac who ratted me out wasn't it? And don't lie to me Liam, you know bad things happen when people lie to me.”
Liam stared fearfully at the handle of the door, “Please don’t hurt him, he was just scared please. Stiles don't-.”
“Shut up Liam, I didn't ask for your opinion,” He angrily hissed, “He’s going to get what he fucking deserves and you will be there with him if you don't hurry the fuck up and follow my order. Do you understand?”
Liam clamped his mouth shut, nodding his head before opening the door and fleeing the room.
2. " I Left A Love Note."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Here We Get To See Liam's Story And What Happened Between Him And Scott ...
>
> As Usual All Mistakes Made Are Mine .
Liam wrung his hands waiting impatiently for Chief Finstock to come back from yelling at Greenberg. He knew he shouldn't have gotten involved with the most feared Alpha but at the time he wasn't thinking straight, he was hurt and jealous.
He sighed and leaned forward in his chair, running his hand down his face, “Love makes you blind.” He mumbled bitterly to himself. | d8176a992a8c41ada9ed27b93e1b7899 | ['76d0a7c7f13443c581b0702618373ae2'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> Sorry For Disappearing There! At First My Computer Broke *Huffs Loudly* & Then There Were Some Family Issues. *Sigh*
>
> But Here Is Part 4 Of The Series! *Jazz Hands*
>
> Not Beta Read So Let Me Know If You Spot Any Mistakes & If I Forgot Any Tags.
> Here We Are !
At the sound of a thud followed by a loud crash, Derek sighed before beginning to rub at his temples as Scott presumably knocked over yet another precious object.
As if being summoned by his mother's thoughts, the pup slowly walked into the study with a sheepish grin on his face. "I'm sorry Mommy, it was an accident I swear."
'Just like the other times' Derek thought and sighed again. The younger boy reminded him of his namesake, he could never resist Isaac's puppy eyes and pout.
"I know, but what did I tell you about practicing your shift in the living room Isaac?"
The boy ducked his head at the use of his given name, while mumbling,"You said not to because I could get hurt and I make Mommy worry about my safety."
He then proceeded to beam as he mentally congratulated himself for remembering what was said.
"And?" Derek asked, raising his eyebrows slightly, knowing the boy purposely left out the last reason.
Head still ducked, the boy blushed at being caught once more and began to pick at his fingers.
"Daddy said that I needed to be a good boy and be Mommy's helper. That means doing whatever you ask without complaining. Mommy does a lot already and doesn't need the extra stress of worrying about me getting hurt." Scott nodded his head seriously, making sure he said everything right.
Chuckling at the serious look on Scott's face, Derek ruffled his hair before responding. "Exactly. So can you please do what I told you?"
In attempt to lighten the situation and get out of serious trouble, Scott bowed before answering with a fake British accent,"Yes Mummy, anything for you m'lady, Prince Scott is at your service!" A goofy grin spread across Scott's face as he giggled before planting a quick kiss on Derek's cheek, rushing out of the room to hopefully clean up his mess.
Derek looked after the boy with fondness before turning back to his work.
Growing up Isaac was energetic and intelligent, always wanting to get his hands on any books possible while looking for an adventure in the meantime.
Everywhere they went Isaac made friends easily with his crooked smile and optimistic views.
When Isaac turned five, Stiles suggested that they change the boy's name to Scott, offering no explanation why other than it suited him better.
Glancing at the clock and taking note that Stiles would be home soon, Derek pushed himself from the desk figuring he wouldn't get any more work done.
Knowing his pup would hear him from wherever he was, Derek spoke in a normal tone, "Prince Scott, do you want to help me make dinner?
The sound of feet 'galloping' towards him was all the answer that he needed.
"Thank you for your help Scotty, you did an amazing job. Now go wash up while I set the table." After the boy shot off like a rocket, Derek chuckled before humming as he began setting the table for three.
Taking note of the time again, Derek frowned noticing Stiles was late. Again.
Huffing out an irritated breath, Derek placed one of the plates in the microwave before calling out to Scott to come eat his dinner.
After reading Scott a bedtime story about a prince rescuing a princess from a castle living happily ever after, Derek tucked the prince charming in and made his way back to the kitchen starting on the task of washing the dishes.
Taking note that Stiles still wasn't home yet, he began to angrily scrub at the dishes taking his frustration out on them.
For the past couple of weeks the Alpha had been acting stranger than usual, leaving before everyone has woken up and coming home late. When questioned the Alpha would simply wave him off or leave the house not coming back until hours later.
The next thoughts caused Derek to drop the dish he was holding.
A choked sob escaped his mouth before he could stop it, Stiles was having an affair.
At the sound of the door opening, Derek quickly wiped his hands on a towel near by before wiping the tears from his face.
Strolling to the front door, he plastered a fake smile on his face and greeted Stiles with a soft spoken "Welcome Home."
Greeting unheard, Stiles continued to stare at the paper in his slightly shaking grip.
Concerned, the thoughts about affairs left Derek's mind as he took in the state of Stiles. Derek reached out, softly placing his hand on his mate's shoulder. "Alpha?"
Stiles jumped slightly before shoving the paper into his pocket. "Huh, didn't see you there sweetheart. Come here and give me a proper welcome." Stiles let a smirk grace his features before beckoning Derek to him.
Eyes narrowing at the action, Derek reluctantly stepped forward into the Alpha's space.
A shiver racked down his body as his mate reached forward, grabbing him by his waist and kissing Derek deeply.
Letting his hands roam, Derek slid his hands lower squeezing Stiles' tight, pert ass before breaking their embrace.
Walking backwards towards their shared bedroom Derek stated in a calm voice, "Dinner's in the microwave."
Hearing his Alpha growl in frustration at being teased, Derek smirked before closing the door.
Bringing his hands in front of him, Derek let out a silent gasp not fully processing what he was reading.
Derek read the paper five times before letting out a frustrated breath. Stomping his way to the kitchen Derek sat down across from Stiles, staring at him waiting to be noticed. |
76662c269eeb4185afc0eff6d3270a71 | ['76d68f93b4c44235b88b46aa65e33d1f'] | Allura was sitting in the bath; Krolia was standing above her with medical needle and scissors. Allura’s undersuit was lowered to her waist, with only her bra on. Krolia already treated the minor scratches, now she has stitched the wound on her back. The wound came from the beginning of her right shoulder and stretched to the shoulder blade. In the sink lay a blood-covered bandages which smelled like hydrogen peroxide. The Allura's white suit was covered with small stains of blood. Krolia's hands were stained with it to her elbow.
-Um…Krolia? –Allura winced.
-Hm?
-Is it fine to Keith what his bathroom is bigger than his whole apartment?
-Hmm, -Krolia frowned. –Well, he is not complaining now. Keith was whining when we gave him a proper apartment instead of just a small room. –she chuckled. –Kolivan and I explained to him what he deserves a little treatment after all he has done. Keith suck it up, but he refused to buy even a normal chair. If I didn’t brought to him all this, -she circled her hand around the room.-Keith would sleep on the naked floor with Kosmo.
-Heh, -Allura smirked as Krolia made a last stich on her back. –I see some things never change.
-Yeah, -she took the shower in her hand. –Especially the stubbornness. Alright, we’ve done here. Now we just need to wash all this blood off. –Krolia turned the shower on.
-Quiznack! –Allura squeaked. –Its cold!
-Oops! -Krolia gave her apologetic look. –Sorry…
A light knock sounded at the door. Krolia turn the water off, she went to the door and opened:
-What?
-I-uh, -Keith stammered. -I b-brought some old clothes, -he looked down. Keith held in his hands his old black t-shirt and black sweatpants, rolled into the ball. –I just thought, she would need to change, because her old clothes were, -Keith said sheepishly. - Um…shredded to pieces.
-That’s really sweet of you, -Allura screamed sitting in the bath. – But you came not in the right time. I’d rather you _not_ see me half-naked, -her face blushed red.
-Oh, -Keith whispered to himself. –Like it’s a first time I see you naked.
-What did you say? – Krolia still was peering from the door. She arched an eyebrow on him.
-Uh, -Keith’s eyes widened. –Nothing. It’s not the first time I see her wounded, -he chuckled nervously. –That’s it.
-Oh, boy, -Krolia rolled her eyes, grabbed the clothes and returned to the bathroom.
***
Krolia came out of the bathroom slightly holding limping Allura. She gasped with every step, until she swam to the sofa and flopped down on it. Keith took the spot on the sofa close to her and watched so she didn’t pass out. Krolia squatted down opposite her. Krolia and Keith patiently looked at Allura.
-So, -Allura hesitated. –You want the answer why I came to you bleeding.
-Actually, -Keith's face reflected a slightly nervous and sarcastic expression. –We want to know why you are alive. –he said with hidden irony. –It was actually confusing to know what you alive, robbing the outposts, commanding creepy ass creatures--
-Impures. -Allura ignored his tone.
-W-what? -Keith dropped the irony.
\- They called Impures. –Allura sighed. –Their basis was taken from monster created by Ranveig. I mean the exoskeleton, strength, mind skills and stuff. Impure’s difference from the super weapon is they not that much bloodthirsty to the Galra. -she looked down. –but they are smarter, sensible . Also, every one of them has strong telepathic connection to _her…_
-Who is that… _her_? –Krolia asked.
-The one who break me out from center of realities, –she turned her gaze to Krolia and then to Keith. – Her name is _Queen Merla_. She came from Altean Reality. Everything started since…
* * *
_After you all left, Honerva and I started to create every reality, step by step._
_She was powerful enough to recreate all realities by her own. The power of an Entity has connected deep within her and it kept her alive until the right moment. Still, she needed someone to watch after her and help guide her through multiverse._
_She has…faded away when there was only ten realities left._
_-You suffered so much because of me, -Honerva whispered. She looked at me embarrassed. I saw regret in her eyes. –I’m asking you for forgiveness, Princess Allura. You deserved better than this, –Honerva smiled at me. She asked me with true sincerity. It was like, Honerva finally let go of her egoistic wishes. –My time has come. Please, finish this._
_I took all my strength together and finished what she started. After I have done recreation…I collapsed on the floor. All my power has left me. I looked into whiteness of center of realities one last time. Closed my eyes and…I died._
_Then happened something what I did not see coming._
_I don’t know how many time has passed. The weird thing has happend._
_**I woke up** in the same place and I got a strange feeling like I’ve been pulled. When my eyes focused I looked down at myself._
_I was kneeling on the floor. Again, I felt pulling. I glanced at my arms and saw them hanging on the sides, high above my head. I looked more closely and saw small white threads that entangled my hands like chains._
_I just was left by my own in this void. I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t die. Even through, I used everything in me to recreate what has left, the universe was too cruel to just end my suffering. I was alive, but with no way out._
_My power has recovered, but still I had a feeling, as if something was missing. I tried to use my abilities, everything what came out of tries is some mists from fists. Then I gave up and just laid down on the ground with hope to…go away._
_It seems like centuries has passed when I heard…_
_- **Roar.** _ | 9b68f22501bf4f4886f836bf800553be | ['76d68f93b4c44235b88b46aa65e33d1f'] | -Yeah-yeah. Right.
Lance laughed nervously again. Pidge’s eyebrow now has flew away in her hairline.
-Okay. Um…I think it is time for goodbye hugs.
Keith smirked. Instead, just to hug Keith, Pidge decided to do something more _original._ She ran and jumped on him. Keith almost doubled over. He quickly gathered himself and straightened up with Pidge hanging on him like koala.
-Oof, -Keith exhaled. –I’m going to miss you too, gremlin.
-Still, can’t get used to physical contact?
-Well, I never had anything against cuddles, it’s just… I'm not used to being jumped on.
Pidge chucked and got off from Keith. Lance came to him and they shake their hands.
-If you will be brought to New Altea, don’t forget to came to us for visit.
-Sure,-Keith arched eyebrow at Lance and smiled cockily. –If you won’t put me in a chicken coop.
-If we are going to drink as much as we did yesterday, then you probably will go in there by your own will.
Keith chuckled a bit. Pidge waved her hand and looked at Lance. They both went to the Atlas. Holts family came to escort their children. Lance stood near them, nervously shifting from foot to foot. Colleen noticed that and narrowed her eyes at him. She came to Lance and captured him in the tight hug. Lance blushed bitter red and send “help me” with his eyes to Pidge.
Keith smiled to himself one last time and approached to his ship. His team was already waiting for him.
* * *
Keith’s ship wasn’t much different from any Marmora ship. Expect, it was bigger and had a large cargo compartment. Most of time it’s been used for transportation of humanitarian cargo, but, in the secret from others, Zethrid has been gathered in there _piles_ of weaponry. And every time Keith caught her red-handed.
For now, Keith didn’t confiscate her weapons. Otherwise, he told Zethrid to share it with others. So now, Acxa and Ezor considered with curiosity their new blasters. Ezor ran her hand over the trigger. Zethrid slapped her by hand:
-Ow.
-Careful, darling. These babies are very sensitive. These are not ordinary laser guns. They include metal cartridges, and when mechanism starts, the cannon fires with the laser speed. Head blows completely.
Ezor was dumbfounded for a tic. Then, she smiled brightly at her girlfriend:
-Niiiice.
Keith came from the bridge to the cargo hangar.
-Everybody, suit up. Kolivan and Krolia preparing for landing on Puig surface. First, we have to speak to Puigans and explore the area.
Ezor shrugged:
-Heh. In the last time we were on the Puig, it…didn’t end really good. Can we leave this speaking part just to your mom and Kolivan?
Keith sighted:
-I asked her about it and she said, “I won’t let you out of my side until the operation begins. So not you couldn’t destroy the place, not your _pack of wild lesbians_.”
Acxa facepalmed:
-I knew the nickname would stick.
-Also, she said what our team need to be more, - Keith grimaced. - _Reasonable and disciplined._ Who would say that, maman. Anyway, we have to stay alert. Pale Demon and these creatures can show anytime.
* * *
Marmorian ship landed on the area by the ocean between two sand colored marble columns. Kolivan, Krolia, Keith and his squad went down the ladder of their ship. Chief and elders of Puig was already waiting for them:
-Welcome to Puig, - Chief started with bright smile. -It is great honor to be—
-Save these courtesies, - Krolia said deadpanned. – We all well aware you hate us.
\- I won’t deny it. Puig and Blade of Marmora had our differences in the past. But now, we came in terms, -Chief’s smile fell. His face turned into grimace. –What I can’t say this about this trinity.
Ezor got really interested in her nails. Acxa stared at the ground. Zethrid looked in the sky, whistling. Keith turned to Chief:
-Don’t worry, they are on the right side now. During the war, they largely helped the Coalition and many times proved their loyalty. I personally vouch for them.
-Alright then. Well, tell us about operation, -elders nodded. –And how we can help.
Kolivan began:
-First of all, we must be prepare by the sunset…
Blade of Marmora didn’t expect their enemy was already waiting for them. Right behind the ancient city was little, but thick forest. Crowns of its trees shined brightly on the sun. The ones who stayed hidden in the deep in the bushes didn’t have a time to watch this beauty.
***
Young woman in the pale-blue clothes was watching at the city through the binoculars. She didn’t have her mask on and her silver hair scattered over her shoulders, but it still was difficult to see her face. Like other external parts.
The black, bold creature without eyes has approached her. In their place was a ribbon of white line that distinguished him from his relatives. It was about two meters tall with four arms and big muscular body. The creature grinned its dragon snout and hissed at the girl:
_-I…sssmell…GALRRRRA!_
_-_ I’m sure you do, Alpha. -girl answered annoyed. – But can you stop hissing “GALRA” like this. It’s really annoying.
_\- Queen sssaid they could be a prrrroblem…If Marmora isss here, that’sss the matter of time when Coalition catch usss and find out what arrre we doing…_
_-_ Perhaps. Well, if you got a hold on yourself and your brothers on the last mission, Alpha, they wouldn’t even know about us in the first place.
_-But you usssed your powersss_ …
_-_ I should have given a distraction for you to escape. We couldn’t left emty handed. –Pale Demon straighten up. -Alright, we have a job to do. Queen said Balmera Crystall is the last thing she need.
Creature flinched a bit:
- _What about Blades, Pale Demon? Can we kill them?_
She didn’t took her eyes from binocular. |
3a3949596f3c4c7da7e45c8d0fef64d8 | ['76f68627a66a4e9c9b9930cbcbce87c1'] | Alpha Blood
**Author's Note:**
> And so the dye is cast.
>
> The tale begins with a story in the night.
_**Alpha Blood** _
_One Drop_
* * *
_Deep in the dark woods of a mystical forest._
_Hidden from all, and protected by great traps and treasure._
_Is a grand tomb beyond any imagine._
_A place said to hold the slumber being of Great and Terrible power._
_It is said that this being was the First of their kind._
_The Alpha of all Myths and the God of Vampires._
_***********_
_"Oh wow." a young girls voice said in aww. " The Alpha of all. A powerful being and a God."_
_" Indeed sweat wing. Now let me finish, or you won't get the rest of the story before bed.", an deep males voice said._
_" Ok papa."_
_************_
_The Alpha was said to once rule the lands as a guiding hand to all that sought them._
_With their great might and their Sacred Pearl._
_Teaching grand feats of magic and blessing souls with immortality and great gifts of power._
_But like all things._
_Power has its costs._
_And those who would seek to abuses it._
_Not long had times passed that a group of mortals seeked Immortality, and to take The Alpha's power for themselves._
_The leader of the group slowly gained the beings trust and became their closest friends to the point he gained many secrets that only The Alpha knew._
_Even ways to Pass on and Take power._
_It got to the point that he gained the Immortality he sought and many gifts of power._
_Those gifts he also passed to his followers._
_With these gifts they slowly began sowing the seeds of discord and war upon the lands._
_And with each conflict started and spread the more powerful they became._
_And once they were strong enough._
_He struck._
_Stealing the Pearl that The Alpha held dear and casting out to the Wilds of the Lands._
_His followers launched an attack._
_An attack that took The Alpha by surprise and destroyed many lands in the process._
_In what he perceived as his great triumph and glory he revealed hi deceit._
_A foolish mistake on his part._
_The Alpha enraged struck the Leader down and striped all but his Immortality, before sealing him into an amulet._
_His group though had managed to gravely wound The Alpha in the battle._
_And as such escaped with their sealed leader._
_The Alpha gravely injured sealed themselves within a grand tomb._
_Upon finding out of this many blamed each other for what happened to The Alpha and were those from the group hailed from._
_Thus sparking conflict among those Immortal and in power over their people._
_Conflicts that became bloody wars that soon lost sight of why they fought._
_Thus The Story of The Alpha became legend and myth._
_But._
_What many did not know._
_Was that The Alpha left behind a family line._
_The Alpha Bloodline._
_It is said that when the time is right a Seeker will be called upon to wake the Heir of The Alpha's line._
_And they shall be the ones to Awaken The Alpha from their long healing slumber._
_To end the old conflicts of the past._
_*************_
_"At least that's how the story goes."_
_"Is it true papa?"_
_"What is my little wing?"_
_"The story papa. Is it true about the Alpha's Line?"_
_"Well, no one knows if it's true or not. But many do believe their is some truth to it."_
_"Do you think it is?"_
_" Maybe dear wing. But this old blood thinks that you could find out one day."_
_"You think so?"_
_"I do my wing."_
* * *
It's all in the Blood after all.
**Author's Note:**
> Why did I make this and not sleep?
>
> Oh!
>
> I did it to make the plot bunny die. | 4e84c558424747aea9babbf58ffa8984 | ['76f68627a66a4e9c9b9930cbcbce87c1'] | Lastly she and death left papers and personal warnings to all those who be left when the dust settled.
Once they were done she washed her hands of that world.
Taking a seat with The Heart, the Brothers, and Gaia.
They watched as their changes and their plans slowly unwind and take root.
Soon the players will take their stages.
Who all will join them is up to their choices.
* * *
After all.
Freedom of choice.
Is what all have. |
45a39777c9ee495c91ffc816bb8a5928 | ['77231e49123f448fb010f622ff68abf1'] | Because I saw LINK **.** This update was everything I needed and more. This is my first Check Please! fic so critques are always welcome!
\-----
If Chowder was going to be completely honest with himself, the reason he was awake had nothing to do with the continuous thunder that had been rumbling on and off for the last three hours. Nothing. At. All.
Snuggling a little farther into his comforter he tried to once again doze off. Just as he closed his eyes for the 16th time that night he started to hear something that was decidingly _not_ thunder. Bitty's voice was muffled through the wall, but the walls of the Haus were thin enough he could almost hear exactly what was being said.
Chowder scrunched his face slightly. _Again?_ Chowder knew only a few hours before Bitty had been on the phone, but it was five in the morning, and did this have anything to do with why Bitty had been acting odd all day? He didn't even come down and try and re-do the pie he had dropped.
All week, well, the last few weeks, Bitty had been acting odd. Withdrawn, tired looking, and it hadn't taken much effort to block his shots the last few times Bitty tried to score on Chowder in practice.
Phone calls at five in the morning were rarely ever a good thing. Chowder had gotten a call at 5 in the morning last year to inform him his great-grandma had passed away. _Oh no!_ Chowder hoped everything was alright with Bitty's family.
Chowder strained his ears slightly to see if he could tell the tone of the conversation.
_Oh. Oh no._
_Not Again._
Chowder loved Bitty. Bitty made the best pies Chowder had every tasted. Bitty was probably one of the nicest guys Chowder had ever met.
Chowder could not listen to another round of Skype sex between Bitty and Jack. He couldn't not even if it was Jack _Zimmermann_. Usual it was fairly one-sided what Chowder heard accidently at least twice a week. Sometimes it was just conversations, or Bitty butchering French, but sometimes it was more and oh my god Chowder could not listen to Jack _Zimmermann_ get it on with Bittle over Skype.
Chowder almost dropped his phone twice while frantically texting "bitty don’t you usually use headphones to Skype w jack??? should i leave some in the hallway for you???”
The muffled voices abruptly stopped and stared up again. Chowder could hear some frantic whispers before a knock sounded at his door.
Chowder quickly grabbed his headphones from his desk and opened his door, "Hey Bitty, here!" He thrusted his hand towards….Jack Zimmerann.
"You are not Bitty."
"Nope. Come with me," with pausing for confirmation Jack walked into Bitty's room where Chowder could see Bitty on the bed hugging his knees.
Cautiously Chowder followed, Jack shutting the door behind him as he entered. "You okay Bitty?" Chowder asked.
Bitty rubbed his eyes before asking, "How much have you heard Jack and I talk about?"
Chowder shrugged, "Not anything too specific, the walls are pretty thin, so mostly just you guys' voices," he flushed, "and some other stuff."
Bitty was turning an interesting shade of pink, while Jack turned pink and then paled abruptly. "You've heard …. us…. ummm….," Bitty croaked slightly.
Chowder shook his head frantically, "Only sometimes! I always put my headphones in if I do!".
"Why haven't you said anything?" Jacked asked and he finally sat down next to Bitty and took his hand.
Chowder squirmed awkwardly, "Well Bitty haven't said anything, and I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. Shitty said coming out is a sacred thing and not to be rushed when I asked him earlier if you were out Bitty, so I didn't want to ask anything."
Jack let out a breath, "Bitty and I are dating. We're going to tell the team at brunch tomorrow," he smiled at Bitty, "just the Haus team, and Lardo and Shitty. No one else can know yet."
Chowder grinned, "I'm glad that you decided to trust me with this moment," he squinted at them, "Can I be excused from brunch? It's only just stopped thundering and I haven't slept yet."
Bitty snorted as he stood up, "Yes you can be excused,"
"Thanks Bitty!" Chowder bounced towards Bitty before wrapping him in a spine breaking hug, "You're the best!" Chowder paused for a moment before quickly giving Jack a hug as well, which was slightly awkward as Jack was still sitting. "Night!"
Chowder was still grinning slightly as he closed his eyes for the 17th time that night, he could still hear muffled voices, but the thunder had stopped. Finally, he could sleep. | 4747987700b44c55a4b633e3f4fe6597 | ['77231e49123f448fb010f622ff68abf1'] | Sidney scanned through the letter. It wasn’t two full pages, but it almost was and he was pretty sure he spelled everything right, so Mrs. Hammas would be happy. Carefully, Sidney folded it in half, and stood up to bring it to the front of the room, where some of his classmates had already put their finished letters. He was almost out of his chair when he paused and opened the letter again. Quickly he doodled a hockey stick and puck next to his name. Maybe Zhenya could be a friend.
_/\\_
August finished and it was half way through September before the next letter came. By then the preseason had truly began and Sidney was spending hours every day on the ice, on his driveway, and in his basement practicing. He spent hours skating forward and backward, practicing sharp turns, his puck handling, and his shots. When he wasn’t practicing he was working on homework, which involved entirely too much math.
The boys on his team this year had mostly stayed the same, only a few new players. It wasn’t any different though. They would smile and joke, and complain about school together, but as soon as they hit the ice the extra roughness started up again. The chirps got a little meaner, and the looks he got when Coach praised his work were a little more hostile. Another season of hoping that his teammates would like him enough not to mess with this gear.
Sidney loved hockey, but he didn’t always love the people.
When Mrs. Hammas announced that they had gotten responses Sidney had half forgotten about the letter he had written. He wondered if his pen pal had minded all the questions that Sidney had asked. Maybe he would be as excited about hockey as Sidney was. It was doubtful.
Mrs. Hammas passed the letters around to each student. This time the envelope had a messily written Sidney on it and felt a little thicker. It still wasn’t sealed shut, just the flap tucked in. Carefully, Sidney pulled out the letter and was pleased to see a full two pages written in the same messy hand writing as before.
> **_Dear Sidney,_ **
>
> **_I am happy that you like hockey. I love to play. My brother name is Denis. We play hockey together. It is my town team. I play in mornings before school and after. I play center to. Denis is 9 and we play on same team._ **
>
> **_My favorite team is Metallurg Magnitogorsk. Is Russian team. Russian best._ **
>
> **_Being on ice best. Skating is all. I want to skate forever. Mama says that I should work hard in school. Hockey is fun. School is not fun. English is hard._ **
There were several drawings then. Two were of hockey sticks, and another of a goal post. The last drawing was of a stick figure holding a puck and a stick.
> **_I wish I could play hockey every day. Do you? Denis say hockey is not all. I think Denis is wrong. Hockey is everything. It makes everything better._ **
>
> **_-Zhenya_ **
Sidney stared at the letter. _Hockey is everything._ His fingers twitched. It was still early morning, only about 9am, but he had already practiced for two hours before he had to get on the bus for school. Zheyna understood. It wasn’t that Sidney didn’t like other things. He liked playing baseball, he liked watching shows on PBS, and he liked swimming. But hockey. _Hockey is everything._
Pulling out his Habs notebook Sidney was already drafting his response in his head. This letter wasn’t going to be nearly as short as his first. He needed to know everything about Metallurg, he had never heard of it before, but more importantly, he needed to know everything that Zhenya liked about hockey.
> _Dear Zhenya,_
>
> _Hockey is everything. I practiced my slap shot this morning…_
_/\\_
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Chapter 2 is finally here! Internet issues pushed this chapter back a couple of days.
>
> Thank you again to Bee (nomorelonelydays) for the inspiration!
>
> Come say hi to me on tumblr! I'm USER there!
The months faded from September to November and on. Zhenya didn’t like the season change. With every month a forbidding deadline approached. Not only was the hockey season ending in just two months, but the end of the school year was coming to a close as well. Zhenya had never before dreaded the end of a school year, usually rejoicing with Denis that there was no more homework for three months. This year was different though.
When his teacher declared that they would be practicing their English by writing to Canadians Zhenya had wondered if this was the hell the priest talked about in church. English was hard. The alphabet was wrong, the words were wrong, and for the life of him he could never remember to put a “the” in the right spot. Russian didn’t have a “the”.
Obviously Russian was best.
The first letter he wrote had not ended up too bad. He had rewritten three times, and consulted his Russian-English dictionary. Zhenya hadn’t expected a response beyond pleasantries, most likely needing to result to the dictionary in order to understand it.
The letter he had gotten in returned, definitely needed an dictionary to translate, but the words sparked something in Zhenya. Sidney from Cole Harbor liked hockey. Not only did he like hockey; he love it, and he was a center like Zhenya. ‘ _I am flying on the ice,’_ Sidney had said, describing skating. It was everything that Zhenya could not put into words. Put into English.
It takes six weeks for a letter to be sent to Canada and for the response to be received in Russia. |
b2378db39f7148ac83a2079a80f5f5e5 | ['774a11497ead433c9fbbcea30f397140'] | Yuuri glanced sideways at him. “Why are you telling me all this? You’re going against your own company. The one you said you’re meant to take over.”
Victor shrugged. “I wanted you to know.”
“And how can I trust what you tell me?”
It bothered Victor that Yuuri didn’t implicitly trust him, even though of course this was the smarter position to take. He tightened his grip on the wheel and fixed his gaze on the road. “Think what you will, I suppose.”
Yuuri continued to study him. “There’s one thing I’ve wondered about. Why is Rostelecom so eager to do business with my father’s company, to the point that they’d create a job for me, or at pretend to do so?”
How was he meant to answer that? Victor didn’t know all the details, but what he did know, he was certain he wasn’t meant to share with Yuuri. He tried to sift through the truth. “There’s an aspect of business with your family they’re very interested in.”
“Well, that much is obvious.” Yuuri laughed softly and relaxed in his seat. “That’s good, though, to see you have _some_ loyalty.”
Victor sat up straighter. “You—you were testing me?”
“Of course I was. I’m representing the Katsuki Corporation. I don’t have the best head for business, but I have _some_ sense of how to protect our interest.” He smoothed his hands over his thighs. “I think your grandfather is after our Niihama property.”
Victor did everything in his power not to react. “And why do you think that?”
“Because it makes the most sense. Our hotel chain makes money, but the Niihama port has potential for all kinds of activity.” When Victor continued to say nothing, Yuuri grinned. “Are you always this transparent, Victor, with your clients? I can see you trying not to give anything away, but you are, all the same. You’ve all but told me I’m right in my guess.”
Now it was Victor who blushed. “No, in fact, I’m known for surprising those I entertain, and keeping them captivated. And properly distracted.”
“And what is different today?”
_You’re here. You’re the one I’m trying to charm, but it’s too late, because you’ve already cast some kind of spell on me._ He ran a hand through his hair and said nothing.
Chris’s house in Long Island was impressive, which was good as it had been bought with such a purpose in mind. Chris’s longtime partner, a lawyer at a downtown Manhattan firm, often entertained, and sometimes Chris brought clients home as well—whoever they brought through the front door, the goal was always to charm and intimidate.
Victor wasn’t sure what kind of lifestyle Yuuri was accustomed to. Being the son of Katsuki Corporation’s CEO said he should be at home in luxurious surroundings; that horrible suit, however, said otherwise. In his attempts to learn more about the man overnight he’d read Yuuri had spent most of his life training as a skater, living at training rinks and traveling the world. It was only recently that he’d spent any time out of that world.
Would Chris eat him alive? Victor vowed not to let him, company loyalty be damned.
Except they weren’t even five feet inside the door before Yuuri began turning the tables. Chris welcomed them with a cheerful smile and a slight widening of his eyes as he took in Yuuri’s terrible suit—and then Yuuri made a polite bow before presenting Chris with a small paper shopping bag Victor hadn’t realized he’d brought with him.
“Please allow me to present you with this small token of thanks.”
His English was wooden and clearly rehearsed, but it worked. Chris blinked as he accepted the bag. “Oh—well, thank you very— _oh_ , this is an _excellent_ bottle of sake, _thank you_!”
“It is nothing, truly,” Yuuri said, the line once again rehearsed, but the effect was brilliant.
Chris led them outside, where the sat with a view of the ocean in the distance, through the trees. He brought them beverages—beer for Victor and himself, tea for Yuuri, who shuddered at the suggestion of more alcohol. Once they were seated, Chris sipped his beer and regarded Yuuri curiously. “I expected to see Victor today, but I admit, I hadn’t anticipated a visit from _you_ , Katsuki. What brings you out to my neck of the woods?”
Yuuri glanced at Victor, then at Chris, then back at Victor again. He frowned, then said in Japanese to Victor, “He speaks too quickly, and with a heavy accent.”
_Ah_. “He’s Swiss. He said he hadn’t expected you and wondered why you were here.” Now it was Victor who frowned. “My Japanese isn’t exactly at the interpreter level.”
Yuuri waved this objection away and turned back to Chris. “I’m here to make clear my terms for potentially taking a position with Rostelecom. I would appreciate it if you could speak slowly. I speak English, but not well. Unless you speak Japanese, Chinese, or Thai?”
Chris blinked, then laughed, though he seemed stunned to Victor, thrown well off balance. “No, I do not. Only German, French, English, and Russian.” Chris cast a meaningful look at Victor, one that told him he very much wanted a word alone. “But what do you mean, you’re here to make your terms clear regarding your position? I thought you were coming to be interviewed?”
“Yes. About that.” Yuuri tugged at the cuffs of his suit coat. “There seems to have been misunderstandings. I will be interviewing _you_.” He paused, looking rather cool and collected, but Victor knew Yuuri’s English well enough to know he was rehearsing a memorized line again. “I can extend my stay through two weeks, and in that time I’m happy to entertain proposals from you.” He cut a glance to Victor. “I do have one request I’m quite firm on. I require somewhere to stay, however, and an escort around town during my stay. I would like that escort to be Mr. Nikiforov.” | 0b64827d818e462bb1a030dedd78fe97 | ['774a11497ead433c9fbbcea30f397140'] |
1. Chapter 1
Yuuri had no idea it was going to be this difficult to get a cab.
He’d looked around for a taxi stand like there had been at the airport, but he couldn’t see one anywhere. Only mobs of people speaking English far too fast, none of them looking as if they were interested in entertaining questions from an overtired Japanese business traveller who barely spoke their language. The sidewalks were jammed with people, all of them pushing against Yuuri, jostling him and casting him glares as he stood huddled with his luggage, trying to decide what to do.
He should have gone straight to his hotel, but he’d needed to exchange his currency, and the station at the airport had been closed. He’d asked his cab driver to take him to a bank in Manhattan, since it seemed that would be a safe neighborhood, and now here he was. Flush with cash, unable to find a cab, no idea how to get to his hotel.
When his anxiety threatened to send him to the pavement and curl him into a ball, he spied the sign for a coffee house with free WiFi and hurried over, where his hands trembled as he dialed up Phichit’s number on Skype and waited for his friend to pick up. He wanted to use video chat, but he worried how people would look at him if he did that in a coffee shop, so he stuck to audio only.
“Yuuri?” Phichit yawned, sounding sleep-groggy. “Is everything all right? Did you make it to New York?”
Yuuri curled his fingers around the phone and hunched over it. “So sorry to wake you. I…I’m having trouble.”
“Ah. It’s okay. I should be getting up anyway.” Phichit was immediately more awake. “I told you to call me anytime, right? First of all, where are you?”
“New York City. Manhattan. A coffee shop.”
“So you made it. Good. Your flight was all right?”
It had been long. So incredibly long. “Yes. It was good. No problems.”
“And you got into the city on your own—well done! So you’re not having trouble with your English?”
Yuuri hesitated, thinking back to his nearly disastrous encounter with the cab driver. “I think my English could be better. They have a hard time understanding me.”
“Remember not to be too quiet. You tend to get quiet when you’re nervous, and that makes it difficult to understand you.”
Yuuri rubbed his forehead. He felt calmer, talking to Phichit, but panic still loomed. “I can’t get to my hotel. I stopped to change currency at a bank, but it’s too busy here and there are no cabs. I don’t know how to get one. There are no taxi stands.”
“Breathe, Yuuri. Deep breaths.”
Shutting his eyes, Yuuri did as instructed. His cheeks flushed with his embarrassment at needing Phichit to calm him so early on his journey. He worried it was a bad sign. “Maybe I shouldn’t do this. Maybe I should have the taxi take me to the airport and I should go back to Japan.”
“You should go to your hotel, rest, and prepare for your interview next week,” Phichit countered with maddening patience. “You’ve come all this way, and everyone worked so hard to help get you this opportunity.”
Yuuri knew Phichit was right, but the knowledge didn’t make the task ahead of him any easier. He wasn’t sure why he’d come here any longer, what the opportunity was he sought. A job, yes. A career, now that skating was over. He’d tried coaching, and it hadn’t suited him. Neither had working with his father’s business back home—he was competent enough in the hotel industry, had trained for it in college, but too many people asked about his skating, and it brought up bad memories. Staying at home with his mother was far worse—the depression had nearly drowned him there, in the quiet. And so everyone who loved him had devised this: an interview in a company abroad, one friendly with the Katsuki empire. Phichit and Seung-gil Lee had arranged everything—with help from their families. Yuuri was fortunate to have such connections and such devoted friends and loved ones around him.
Yet none of them were here with him now in this crowded coffee shop to explain how to get a taxi to his hotel. Only Phichit, awake in the middle of the night on Skype.
Yuuri pushed down all the voices that wanted to point out how pointless this was and what a miserable failure he had become and did what Minako had trained him to do: focus on what he could do now, right in front of him. What was the task at hand? The trouble before him? The taxi. Getting to his hotel. Very well. He would ask Phichit how to solve this problem.
“I need to find how to get a taxi.” He worked to keep his voice level, no emotion leaking in to make it wobble. “It isn’t the same as in Tokyo.” Yuuri wasn’t much good at getting a taxi in Tokyo, but he could do it if he had to. Go to the taxi stand and wait your turn. He hated how busy the streets were, but he endured it. “There are no taxi stands.”
“Really? How odd. But I’ve never been to New York. Hmm. You could try calling the company, maybe?”
Yuuri’s stomach turned over at the thought. “They won’t understand my English. No one understand my English. It’ll be worse on the phone, from a crowded place, when I’m tired and nervous.” And he was getting more nervous by the moment.
“All right, it’s all right. Don’t panic. We’ll figure this out.” He could hear Phichit clicking in the background, typing on his keyboard. “Are you still using your Japanese phone? Have you changed the SIM card like I told you?” |
312d9da017ba4638af587683b63c0584 | ['777213055daf4e00a09da93650a21a22'] | Kneeling beside Frodo, he set the pack and cloth down beside him. "We will be leaving for Osgiliath soon. You and Sam will travel with us, unbound, but we will have to keep this Gollum creature bound." He caressed Frodo's head. "We will talk, later, I promise. Here," pressing the warm, damp cloth into Frodo's hand. "Come out when you are ready." He rose to join his men.
"Faramir."
"Yes, Frodo?"
"You must let me go." Frodo's hands closed on the cloth, twisting convulsively. "The Ring.."
"The Ring will go to Gondor, Frodo. Come out when you are ready."
Frodo used the cloth to clean himself, then picked up his pack and followed Faramir.
They left Henneth Annun before it was light. Frodo and Sam were unbound, as Faramir had promised, with their weapons and packs restored to them for the march. However, a tall man marched behind each, hands on their shoulders. Gollum's hands were bound, and one of the men held the rope, sword in hand, driving him along.
A long day's march led them through the glades of Ithihlien. Frodo wished he had more time to appreciate the beauty of the trees and shrubs, the early spring flowers (Sam would know their names). They had traveled far South since leaving the Shire, but only in this lost garden of Gondor had they seen the approach of spring. But there was no time. He was pushed along, straining to keep up with the long strides of Faramir's men.
The men finally stopped after dark to make camp in a clearing. Gollum was tied to a tree, but Frodo and Sam allowed to sit side by side although Frodo noticed that at least one of the men was always watching them.
Frodo saw with sorrow that Gollum would not meet his eyes. With what little emotion he had to spare, Frodo was sorry that Smeagol felt betrayed. He could not make him understand that the betrayal was the only way to save his life. As he sat beside Sam, Frodo wondered if perhaps death would have been better.
After eating, most of the men rolled up in their cloaks and slept. Those on watch could be seen around the fire, and, Frodo suspected, were also in the woods. He doubted even a hobbit could escape from these men, any more than from the Rangers of the North.
Frodo and Sam lay down beside each other, but not as close to each other as they did when they were alone. Frodo could tell by Sam's regular breathing that he was asleep, but although Frodo was aching from the long day's march, he could not sleep. Not yet.
Hearing someone approach, Frodo sat up. He was not surprised to see Faramir.
"Will you come with me, Frodo?"
Frodo nodded and stood up. Faramir's voice was low, pleasant. He seemed to be himself again, and Frodo noticed that he was not wearing his sword.
They walked quietly past the guards in the clearing, Faramir nodding to them as they passed.
"We dare not go far from camp, not out of sight of the fire. Although formerly Orcs did not dare come this close to the River, in the last year, this has changed." Faramir stopped, sat down.
Frodo stood in front of him. The silence grew.
"I had not realized that Halflings could move so quietly in the woods," said Faramir. "Your people would make excellent--"
"Spies?" Frodo asked, coldly. "Slaves under the Dark Lord would have little choice, no doubt, but to follow orders."
"I did not mean that," Faramir protested. "I mean you and your people no harm, Frodo!"
Frodo sighed and sank to the ground beside Faramir. He could feel Faramir's sincerity and desire to help. The Ring was quiescent at the moment although he no longer made the mistake of thinking it inactive. But apparently the fact that they were moving toward the White City satisfied it.
"I know. I'm sorry, but, you must understand. If the Ring goes to Gondor, if it is claimed by you or your father, then the world will be lost." Frodo hoped he could make Faramir understand.
"Do not fear-we know the Enemy's Ring is evil. But holding the Ring, keeping it from him, will weaken him."
Frodo wondered if telling Faramir what happened to Boromir would change his mind, would help him see the danger of the Ring.
He saw again the hideous way Boromir's face had changed, heard the grating in his voice as he promised torments as if seeing them in a vision, that "they will find you, they will take the Ring, and you will beg for death before they are done." Frodo could almost feel Boromir's hard hands tearing at his clothes, probing his body, searching for the Ring, claiming it for himself, before Frodo had slipped it on and escaped.
No, he couldn't tell Faramir about his brother.
Faramir's warm arm slid around his shoulders. "Frodo, I wanted to talk to you about what happened. Forgive me."
Frodo had been so intent on trying to convince Faramir to let him go that he had almost forgotten...almost but not entirely as the warm feeling that swept over his body forced him to admit.
"Why are you apologizing? I seem to remember....." Frodo searched for words, "well, grabbing you first."
"True, but, I could have, should have, stopped it."
Frodo scooted closer to Faramir, trying to see as much of his face as possible in the moonlit dark.
"You did stop me once," Frodo pointed out.
"True," Faramir breathed out a low laugh. "If you are representative of the species, hobbits are apparently stubborn creatures."
"We are. But, truly, Faramir, I was seeking......something myself, perhaps using you. Perhaps I should be apologizing."
"Perhaps we can agree to both apologize, and to accept each other's apology."
"Very well."
Frodo felt comfortable in the silence that followed, oddly safe, and disappointed when Faramir rose to his feet again. | 854c01cc074249b4933ebfc3d97943a9 | ['777213055daf4e00a09da93650a21a22'] | “There are also blankets in the tack room. Or, you could not move while I go get the straps and a blanket. What do you want to do?”
David looked at Viggo, feeling excitement twist inside, feeling himself harden. “What do you think?” he asked.
Viggo’s hand tightened, and David gasped for air as Viggo kissed him, hard and deep and slow.
“I think you’ll wait here and not move,” Viggo said softly, then rolled off David who lay still.
Viggo stood and went to the tack room. David sat up, pulling his shirt the rest of the way off, thinking. As Viggo disappeared into the tack room, David moved several feet to his left which, he planned to point out if necessary, put him much closer and at a better angle to the closest post.
When Viggo returned, he acknowledged David’s movement with a look, but said nothing. He knelt to spread the olive-green blanket, tossed several leather straps down on it. David moved onto the blanket, sat cross-legged, watching as Viggo picked up one long leather strap and looped it around the post, running one end through the ring at the other, tugging it tight.
“Lie down,” he said.
1. The leather was not very flexible, but held as David pushed against it.
“What is that?” asked David.
“A rein.”
David looked at the other strap, shorter and with a buckle rather than a ring, which was still on the blanket.
“That?”
“A chin strap.”
David shifted away, uneasy. “I don’t do gags,” he said. He thought it was too short, but just in case.
Viggo smiled at him. “Neither do I though Sean may make me rethink that,” he said. “But this is the chin strap of a bridle for a horse. It’s too short for to use for a gag.”
“So what....,” David began, but Viggo leaned down to kiss him, then pulled back, placing a hand over his mouth. “No talking,” he said.
Viggo pulled off David’s boots and tossed them aside. Kneeling, he grasped a foot in each hand, thumb tracing circles on each of David’s soles, the touch seeming to shoot straight up his legs. David arched, tried to pull away but could not get leverage to break Viggo’s grip.
Viggo released him, moved forward to undo David’s jeans and try to tug them down. David shifted, tensing and pushing his hips down, making it difficult. Viggo paused, looked at him. Swung his leg over David’s thighs, pushed the jeans open more in front, reached in to free David’s erection, running his thumb gently up and down. David arched up, tensing, and was surprised when Viggo didn’t move to pull his jeans down.
Instead, Viggo leaned over and picked up the chin strap, set it on his thigh, worked the end through the buckle one-handed, and leaned forward to slip the loop over David’s erection. David held his breath as Viggo pushed the loop down, tugging to tighten it, then gently pulled up on the strap. David hardened even more, obedient to the pull, arching up further to let Viggo pull his jeans down past his hips.
Then he rolled David over. David’s nose itched, pressed against the scratchy blanket, and he turned his face enough to breathe easily. He would definitely send Viggo a hammock when Return opened. He heard the clunk of boots being tossed onto a wood floor, a zipper, the rustle of clothes.
Warm hands circled his ankles, pushing them apart, then ran up his legs, slowly. To his thighs. David shut his eyes, tensed. The hands ran up over his rear, thumbs in his cleft, fingers spread wide, rubbing, pushing him apart.
One finger slipped in, twisting slowly, small movements. David tried to relax, slow his breathing, pulling against the rein. He recognized this. Twisting against the blanket, he tried to thrust back. Viggo’s free hand slipped under him, searching for then grasping the strap, tugging. David cried out, tried to freeze, could not.
“Slow down,” Viggo murmured. He released the tension, David relaxed marginally, felt Viggo’s hand move down, felt the strap under him. Viggo pulled his hand out from under David, slid it over and down his thigh, tugging then releasing the strap from behind. The loop tightened, then released, and David shuddered as Viggo slid another finger inside, began pushing in and out.
“Please,” he gasped, tense and aching from the time he’d spent tied to the chair earlier.
Viggo’s hand stopped, his other rubbed David’s back.
“Please what?”
“Do it now. Not slow.”
A breath of laughter, then “All right.”
Viggo shifted, pulling out, moving over David. Positioning himself, he thrust slowly in, sliding an arm around David’s chest, thrusting harder and faster. David spread his legs wider, thrust up against Viggo’s weight, pulling against the rein, panting. He wanted more. Pushing up as hard as he could, he forced Viggo to exert more strength to hold him, thrusting harder. Eventually, the friction of the heavy blanket, the pressure of the leather strap, Viggo’s power, pushed him over, and he came, followed soon by Viggo.
David lay under Viggo, warm and relaxed.
Viggo stirred, pulled his arm out from under David and ran his hand through his damp hair. “You should be glad I believe in using a loose rein, no spurs or whip.”
David suppressed a final sneeze, braced himself, and rolled over, tumbling Viggo off. “I think you’re riding the metaphor a bit too much,” he said, and released his arms.
**Epicenter**
Must acknowledge ongoing inspiration of savageseraph and caras_galadhon, but this section (and the next) must be especially dedicated, with thanks, to aprilkat. I do not think it would have ever been written, or that this sequence would have taken the shape it did, were it not for the conversations and insights she has shared. But she only deserves credit for the good—I take any blame for the what doesn’t work! |
5c5d0e48be784deebd793d8b38ee70f2 | ['77787a50f6f24d46b080f45a5547588a'] | “Oh, um right, sorry,” Tony still can’t believe he just did that he has no idea if he can actually fix this thing, but in for a penny in for a pound, he gets down on the ground and starts looking over the parts of the beetle, it looks like some wires have snapped apart but the whole thing is made of interlocking pieces, the real damage is a few of the legs are either bent or completely snapped off. Tony is starting to think this might actually be pretty easy to fix when Barton clears his throat.
“So, you just gonna sit there mumbling to yourself or do you think you can fix it?”
Tony looks up at him and sees he’s got an easy smile on, so he smiles back, ”yeah, I can fix this no problem, I’m Tony by the way.” He reaches out his hand and Barton takes it in a firm grip
“Clint, nice to meet you Tony, so how’d you like the show?”
Tony blushes a bit and hopes Clint doesn’t notice as he remembers his original reason for being back here, “it was incredible” Clint smirks but is kept from saying anything else as Phil reappears with a bag of tools. Tony gets to work fixing the beetle, Phil stays to supervise and an hour later Tony has fixed all the pieces of it he can and made notes of the things that will need replacing entirely. Phil, who has been silent the whole time, finally looks at Tony and gives him scrutinizing look that makes Tony start to squirm in his skin, before he finally speaks,
“You want a job?”
Tony is struck dumb for a moment, Phil just looks at him expectantly, When Tony finally manages to stutter out some approximation of ‘yeah, sure, absolutely’ Phil just nods and walks off leaving a startled Tony with Clint and the beetle.
Clint smirks at him, and helps him up “Welcome to the troupe Tony.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Tony still feels sort of dazed, he’s not sure how he went from sneaking back stage to catch a glimpse of the performers, well one performer in particular, to suddenly having a job with the troupe but he’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth since this is exactly what he needs to get out of town. Suddenly he realizes that Clint is speaking to him again,
“-nd we leave tomorrow so if you need to get anything.”
“Oh no I don’t need to,” at the confused look Clint gives him Tony just gestures to his pack, “ I um, I travel light,” Tony is thankful that Clint doesn’t say anything, though the sort of sad look he gives him isn’t much better, then something behind Tony catches his attention and he waves
“Hey Steve, come meet the new guy!”
Tony turns to see whoever it is that Clint is waving over, and feels his throat go dry as he recognizes the performer from earlier, he’s even better up close Tony decides as the man walks over to him and Clint, he’s out of costume and wearing sweats and an undershirt that just hug and accentuate all the incredible muscle in his torso, and his is hair swept back like he ran his hands through it after a shower. The blue paint is gone but this close Tony can see just the faintest trace of it still in his hairline, and his eyes, Tony decides are the most intense blue he’s ever seen, and really how can this guy get any better when suddenly he speaks,
“Hi I’m Steve, and you are?”
Tony is struck all over again by his voice and just barley notices that Steve has stuck out his hand and shakes it “I – I’m Tony”
Steve smiles and Tony thinks it’s the brightest most genuine smile he’s ever seen, “nice to meet you, so you a performer or a tech?”
Clint pipes up before Tony can open his mouth, “He’s the new mechanic, Phil just hired him and everything.”
Steve’s eyebrows go up and he looks suitably impressed “Phil hired him?” he glances at Tony, “you must have really impressed him, Phil is notoriously picky about his crew.”
Tony feels himself flush with a mixture of pride and embarrassment, before he can say anything though someone is calling Steve off but before he leaves he turns to Tony,
“Nice meeting you Tony, see you around.”
“Y-yeah, you too,” Tony stares after Steve for a moment then is drawn back by the sound of Clint Clearing his Throat,
Clint gives Tony a knowing smirk before continuing “So I’ll get you set up in one of the RV’s and then you can meet the rest of the troupe.”
“Yeah sounds good.” Tony flushes a little in embarrassment and follows Clint further backstage.
That night as Tony is laying in his bunk in one of the RV’s he thanks whatever lucky stars he has that he just stumbled into this perfect chance to get as far away as possible from California; and that he’s already got a friend in Clint, who Tony can already tell is a loyal kind of guy, and he hasn’t had many of those in his life recently. Not to mention Steve who Tony desperately hopes is single, if he can avoid screwing this up Tony thinks this may just be perfect.
**Author's Note:**
> if you like this so far let me know and I will try to keep updating | 82b01996f0374825ba34ec1934f4d3f0 | ['77787a50f6f24d46b080f45a5547588a'] | Waking up in the Hospital for the second time wasn’t quite as awful, though there was a burning sensation in her chest and it hurt to breathe, but at least this time she wasn’t cuffed to the bed rail, though there was a tug on her hand when she tried to pull it towards her, she looked over to see Killian holding her hand, with Emma sitting next to him and a thoughtful look on her face.
“I know that look, that look means your deciding whether to hug me or shake me.” The realization of what she’d said struck her as the words left her mouth “ Um, I mean-“
“Killian told me” Killian gave her a sheepish look
“Oh, so how do you feel about, that?”
“Not sure yet,”
“ listen if it makes you feel better neither of you are going to remember that I helped you anyway.” Both Emma and Killian sat up at that, Emma seemed to find her voice first,
“Wait what?”
“As soon as I step back through that portal, your memories of me will disappear, you’ll still remember all of this just minus my interference.” Killian looked dismayed at that
“But Why?”
“Rules of time travel.”
“Then can you at least tell us why you came here in the first place?”
“in my future Zelena came back and killed you,” she looked at Emma, “she was just powerful enough to be more than a match, my mission was to come here and weaken her so she won’t be powerful enough to succeed.”
“But wait doesn’t this mean you’re future no longer exists?”
“No it still exists, I’ll just have two sets of memories” Killian looked confused
“why?”
“Because time travel is bullshit” Killian and Emma nodded in agreement with that.
0
Killian and Emma were waiting with Adrienne when the portal reopened on Main Street, Adrienne turned to her parents with her hands in her pockets,
“I guess this is goodbye,” she held out her hand and was surprised as Emma swept her into a hug, and whispered to her
“I can’t wait to watch you grow up,” Killian cleared his throat as Emma stepped back,
“Safe travels lass,” Adrienne smiled at both of them before turning to the portal and stepping through,
“Don’t be too sad, I’ll see you again soon” then she waved goodbye as the portal blinked shut.
**Author's Note:**
> saw a prompt on tumblr for this and decided to give it a shot, tried to stay true to characters as much as possible, please leave comments
>
> please forgive editing errors I'm new to this |
438a005285e14925a31c90d5fec6dc5b | ['77c3e3c481664148a6f60a2f6a4a0894'] |
1. Principles
**Author's Note:**
* Translation into Français available: LINK by LINK
Genji was being held tight in front of the gunman, the barrel of the silenced pistol pressed to his temple. Unlike Hanzo, whose expression could only be read as “unimpressed”, Genji was emoting his nervousness. Perhaps it was because he was more sure of his imminent death, perhaps it was because he’d already been held here for most of the day and he hadn’t had the chance to come home and get over his no doubt ludicrously late night, whatever it was, Hanzo didn’t care. All he cared about was that this man was holding a gun to his brother’s head, and that could not be allowed.
He raised his own weapon, finger edging over the trigger as he took aim.
“You won’t shoot, you’ll hit your precious little brother.” The gunman hissed, Hanzo had forgotten his name as soon as he’d heard it. He didn’t care to know the name of yet another assassin after the heirs to the Shimada empire, “And you don’t want him to get hurt do you? That’s why you came here.”
“Genji can handle himself.” Hanzo didn’t lower his gun, keeping it trained on the man’s head, despite Genji’s being in the way.
“Oh? Doesn’t look like it.” The muzzle of the silencer was pressed deeper into Genji’s temple, who winced.
“Presently, I assume he has a hangover. Which is unfortunate but not surprising.”
“Hey!” Genji retorted
“Shut up!” the assassin shouted.
“Ah, not so loud.” Genji complained, wincing visibly.
Hanzo had a hard time telling whether Genji was actually still hungover from last night despite it being five in the afternoon, or whether he was faking it. Given how many times he had actually been hungover in situations like these, he should be pretty good at it by now.
“Come on, Hanzo. Just give me what I want and I’ll let the little Sparrow go.” He smiled, “That sound like a deal?”
“I will not tell you anything.” Hanzo made a point of not reacting to the way the gunman used their names. It didn’t matter that he knew, he wouldn’t be leaving this encounter alive.
The barrel was pressed into Genji’s temple again, “Then maybe I should kill him to show you I mean business.”
Hanzo fired a shot, Genji yelped in pain, the gunman dropped him in surprise, Hanzo followed with a round between his eyes.
“You shot me!” Genji exclaimed, “Again!”
“I know.”
“Why?” He argued, “I thought we had agreed last time that you’d find another way.”
“You’re alive aren’t you?” Hanzo shrugged ,”It was that or a bullet through your skull rather than his.”
Genji scoffed, “Typical.”
“What?”
“You never keep up your end of the bargain…” He pouted as he lifted himself off the ground.
“I do.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I bought lunch last week.”
“Yes! And I paid the three weeks before that!”
“It’s not as if it’s going to make any dents in your allowance.”
“It’s the principle!”
“And since when have you cared about principle?” There was a smirk playing on Hanzo’s lips.
Genji punched him in the shoulder, “Whatever, now help me get back.”
“Why?”
“Because you shot me, that’s why. If I can’t walk, it’s your fault.”
Genji didn’t give Hanzo much of a choice as he practically fell on him, “Fine.” He sighed, “I’ll help you back.”
“Thank you, brother.”
“Shut up, Genji.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This is supposed to be something of a loose collection of feel-good ficlets. I'm not going to polish these too much, just write as they come and post the ones I'm happy with.
> I've actually been sitting on most of these for months now and thought I might as well post them.
2. Sakura
“Genji.” At the sound of his name, Genji lazily stopped pretending to sleep and cracked an eye open towards his brother.
“What?” he asked, muffled by his pillow.
“Come see.” Hanzo motioned from the window, it looked like he was floating in mid-air, but Genji knew there was a small ledge below the window.
“Why?” the younger brother didn’t move.
“Because it’s cool and I want to show you.”
“It’s two in the morning.” He complained
“Like you didn’t come home at four last night.” Hanzo retorted with a smirk, Genji noticed he was still wearing a silk shirt.
“Exactly.”
“Just come see.”
“Fine.” Genji dragged himself out of bed and padded over to the window.
His brother was already scampering up to the roof by the time Genji, tired and a little unsteady, swung his legs out the window
“If I fall and die, it’s your fault.”
“Noted, now come look, before it stops.”
“What stops?” Genji kept talking as he made his way up the wall. He knew this façade of the castle like the back of his hand, he could scale it in his sleep if he wanted to.
“Just come will you?”
Genji joined his brother on the roof. The moon was full and a light spring breeze was blowing past them. Against the light background of stars, silhouetted against the large face of the moon, were the branches of the sakura trees. The sharp angles jutted out like spears against the light and blowing amongst them, like fish gliding in a pond, were a myriad of petals. They rode on the breeze, floating in lackadaisical spirals across the moon’s face like so many bubbles in a champagne glass.
“Wow.” Genji was now awake and staring intently.
He plopped down, cross legged, beside his brother on the tiles simply watching the scene. They watched it in silence, Genji could only hear the distant sounds of the city down the hill. Not even Hanzo’s breathing, they’d both been trained too well for that.
“I’m glad you showed me.” He said quietly as the breeze died down | 880ff7e9bc8647448bec97cdea4b576d | ['77c3e3c481664148a6f60a2f6a4a0894'] | The petals fluttered down to the floor, alighting no doubt on the clipped grass sprinkled with stubborn wildflowers, or on the stone path neatly kept between the buildings.
“I’m glad you came.” Hanzo whispered, he sounded tired.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Sparrow.”
Genji frowned, “Now I definitely know you’re not okay. You never call me that.”
“Genji…”
“Did something happen at the meeting?”
Hanzo sighed, “No, it’s.. it’s just a lot.”
Genji scooted closer to his brother, and bumped his bare shoulder against the his brother’s silk clad one, “If you ever need it, you can talk to me you know.”
“I know.” Hanzo let himself relax and his head fell onto Genji’s offered shoulder, “I know, I am grateful.”
“Such formality…” Genji chuckled
Hanzo merely grumbled in response. Calm silence passed between them for a small while. The wind had picked up again, but it wasn’t strong enough to lift the cherry blossoms into the air. A car’s klaxon rudely cut through the air from below, reminding the pair of the outside world.
“Next year you’ll be joining me.” Hanzo suddenly said.
“Oh no, I’ll have to be responsible.” Genji grimaced mockingly.
“I’m serious.” Hanzo lifted his head, his fringe was messy and off-kilter, “You must have known that your golden days wouldn’t last forever.”
“Yes, but I could hope.”
Hanzo scoffed, “Of course you would.” He punched his brother lightly in the shoulder, “I bet you’ll skip out on half those meetings like you did class.”
“Don’t give me ideas, Hanzo, it just might happen.”
They laughed.
“Boys!” Hanzo jolted from his sleep, feeling sore and uncomfortable.
Something shifted against him, he groggily attempted to puzzle out where he was and what was moving when a sudden pressure squeezed the air out of his lungs.
“Genji!” he wheezed as his brother levered himself off his chest.
“Oh shit…” Genji whispered to Hanzo’s benefit.
They both peered over the edge of the roof to sheepishly look at their father, standing below, looking stern. They must have been quite a picture, Genji wearing nothing but a pair of fleece trousers, and Hanzo in last night’s silk shirt and slacks.
“I realise it is nearly summer, but you two should really know not to sleep outside.” The tone of humour in his voice was so insignificant compared to the disapproval that loomed in the background, “Now go get dressed and get down here. And properly, Sparrow.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Genji.
“Yes, father.” The brothers said in unison as they slunk back from the edge and back to their respective rooms.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I am going to be posting a French version of this fic soonish, so if you're interested keep an eye out for it. It'll be under the name "D'oiseaux et de Loups".
3. Hit
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Based on http://daddyschlongleg.tumblr.com/post/167810888470/hanzo-comforting-a-beat-up-genji-in-their-younger with a little nod to “Those Nights”, by Aluxra: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9697106
Hanzo raced from his perch down into the alley he’d last seen his brother disappear into. Their task had been carried out, their target was dead, as per their instructions. However, they had run into his guards sooner than they had expected.
He had not seen or heard from his brother in a full six minutes. Six minutes that Genji could have spent bleeding out on the concrete. Six minutes in which Genji could be dead and he didn’t know.
Six minutes and it was his fault for not paying attention.
"Genji!" Hanzo called as soon as he spotted him, gripping a bloodstained shoulder tight.
"Hanzo…" he said raspily, he was sitting approximately against the wall, a small puddle of blood pooling under him.
Hanzo immediately discarded his bow and pulled Genji into his arms, halfway onto his lap.
"What did you think you were doing? How many times do I have to tell you not to rush in, you're going to get yourself killed!" he scolded, prying Genji’s fingers open to check the wound.
His little brother hissed in pain, Hanzo winced in sympathy. It was a graze, and a deep one.
"Hah, then you’ll finally be rid of me." Genji joked and grimaced, his hand travelled to his side, where Hanzo now noticed another wet stain of warm blood.
"Shut up, Genji." He tried to sound harsh but the tears in his eyes made it impossible.
Genji’s face etched into a lopsided smile, but it fell instantly as he took a shaky breath. He coughed and a trickle of blood escaped the corner of his lips.
Hanzo watched in horror as his brother’s eyes start to flutter closed.
"Genji! Don't die on me!” he shouts, bodily shaking him, “I don't know what I'd do without you. Please, stay with me!"
"Oh, you do care about me..." comes the slurred response, Genji’s eyes are half lidded and he’s still losing blood.
"You piece of shit, of course I do. I'm your brother." Hanzo is crying now, without reservation or care.
He doesn’t know what to do, he needs to get back to the castle, but how can he with Genji injured?
"That you are... I love you too, Hanzo." Genji says sleepily.
His hand tightly gripped Hanzo’s shirt, pulling himself closer. For safety, Hanzo thought, as a wave of guilt and panic washed over his mind.
"Stop talking as if you're dying!" he squeezed his brother closer.
“Hanzo…”
“Shut up, Genji. I’m getting us home and you’re going to live.” Hanzo straightened, forcing new resolve through himself, “Come on.”
“I’m tired.”
“That’s the blood loss, now help me get you home.” Hanzo hoisted Genji upright, “Father did say you could die and still be home in time for dinner, are you going to prove him wrong?”
“I could.”
“No, you won’t.” |
18aac921d4d14d8da89ea2fdcaed8c34 | ['77d9d5307101437a9be865dc3f59c8b7'] | Chaeyoung’s friendly voice boomed from the back, “You know Uno’s more fun with four people.”
Lisa beamed while Jennie sighed loudly, “Let me pat you down first.”
She quickly complied as Jennie patted her sides; she paused for a second, her finger pressed against the exposed flesh of her arm, Jennie felt as if she had been thrown into the arctic, Lisa’s breaths felt like frigid storms against her warm cheeks. Her hand slid across her arm, fighting the freezing storm, and paused at her wrist, her breathing slowed as she awaited for a quiet thump to echo into the pads of her fingers; it never did, nor did the rush of blood.
She gulped and pulled her hand to her side and moved to welcome the girl, Lisa quickly moved towards Chaeyoung and soon chattering filled the cabin.
Jennie glanced towards Jisoo, “You’re not worried?”
Jisoo blinked for a few seconds and stared at the newcomer. “I’ll be honest, I don’t think any of this is real.”
“Like the Matrix?...”
She shook her head, “We’re probably drunk, like really drunk. We’ll wake up eventually.”
Jennie pinched her cheek, “I don’t feel drunk.”
Jisoo began to walk towards Lisa, “Then we invited a stranger into our cabin who apparently just crawled out of a grave.”
Jennie followed after her and grabbed the cards Chaeyoung held out for her, “And it’s still not the worst decision we’ve made together.”
Chaeyoung looked up at them with her youthful smile and fluffy cheeks, “Then let’s pray this goes better than our other hangouts.”
Jisoo never prayed, the words almost tumble out of her the same way the tearful confession she made to her parents when the word ‘atheist’ had become more comfortable than ‘not religious’; when praying had become a burden rather than the catharsis it should’ve been.
But it had gotten caught in the crossfire of her tongue thrashing and her lips slamming shut.
Jisoo _never_ prayed, but she knew it didn’t need to be said.
* * *
Chaeyoung groaned as a few pops released from her back, the coldness of the hardwood floor had pricked her fingers and pulled her awake.
Her long limbs felt weary and sore as she tried to pull herself off the ground, but a sudden yawn and a heavy weight pushing down on her ribs caused her to fall back onto the floor with a quiet thump as a raspy voice began to mumble into her chest.
Tufts of strawberry blonde flooded her vision as she began to slowly roll the freezing stranger off her body, Lisa whined and began to claw at Chaeyoung’s thigh.
“Five more minutes.” she said through pouted lips.
“You can sleep in for as long as you want, just not on me.” Chaeyoung said with a final push which sent the colder girl tumbling down her legs and onto the floor.
Lisa looked up with a smile, “Why? Would someone get jealous?”
Chaeyoung quickly caught her jaw from dropping, but failed to catch the awkward and strained laughter that began to seep from her lips.
“It’s, it’s a bit complicated.” Chaeyoung stuttered as she began to walk towards the kitchen.
Lisa followed after her and nearly melted on the counter, her blonde hair spewed everywhere as she pressed herself flatly against the cool counter. “Simple love is easy and sweet, but complicated love is the one that you remember.”
“But you don’t remember it in happiness,” Chaeyoung sighed as she began to toss a few waffles into the toaster oven, “Anyways, how do you like your waffles?”
A quiet hum echoed from the back of the kitchen, Chaeyoung turned to face the decaying girl.
Her eyebrows had furrowed as her eyes looked as if they had melted into pools of molten glass, she blinked before smiling again. “I don’t remember.”
“What do you mean?”
Lisa shrugged and weakly puffed air between her lips. “I don’t remember anything, or at least anything I liked.”
“It doesn’t hurt?” Chaeyoung asked, “Not remembering I mean…”
Lisa chuckled, “Maybe it’s supposed to hurt, but I don’t even remember what hurts me anymore, or what did hurt me. I guess I’m glad it doesn’t hurt.”
Chaeyoung glanced at the large box of waffles and gulped quietly, “You can have every type of waffle there is.”
Lisa smiled, “And then I’d get to have a way I like my waffles.”
Chaeyoung nodded, “It’s not much, but it’s a start. But soon enough you’ll have things to have from now on, things you’ll remember.”
“I’d like to remember you.”
“I want to remember you too,” Chaeyoung replied as she handed Lisa various syrups with a warm smile stretching across her face.
* * *
Jennie glanced through the window and groaned as a blur of blonde raced across the kitchen and crashed into a wall.
She shook her head as she raised a cigarette to her lips, pearly smoke swirled from her ruby stained lips.
She chuckled as she heard shouting and laughs echo from within the cabin, after a few moments the door swung open.
Jennie turned to see the taller girl stumble from the yellowish light of the cabin into the violet and indigo night.
“Where are you going?” Jennie asked.
She faltered for a second, her hand gripped tightly around her left forearm. “Just walking.”
Jennie’s eyes narrowed, “What’s wrong with your arm?”
“Nothing.”
She sighed and tossed the cigarette to the ground, it let out a final cry as her boot smashed the lit embers into the dirt.
“Sit with me, I don’t want you wandering too far.” Jennie said as she patted the dirt beside her.
“Maybe lat-”
“Please?”
Lisa’s breath hitched before the sound of slow shuffling in dirt and leaves filled the night sky.
She sat beside her, Jennie felt Lisa’s arm entangle with hers and for the first time she didn’t mind her cold flesh clashing with her warm. | be1ba8e8bc5c4686a78ebbfac37dba4f | ['77d9d5307101437a9be865dc3f59c8b7'] | Seulgi raised the steaming noodles to her mouth, hot broth spilled over her lips and onto her tongue; she closed her eyes and smiled happily as she dumped more noodles into her mouth.
Joohyun shook her head as she laughed, the other woman turned, her eyes squinting as her cheeks fluffed forwards.
"You're always so messy." Joohyun scolded playfully as she gently moved her finger under Seulgi's lip, the younger woman froze her eyes widening as Joohyun's finger moved across her skin slowly.
She rubbed the broth onto a napkin as Seulgi stared, she began to chew slowly and swallowed the large lump of noodles as she continued to stare.
Her heartbeat thumped wildly against her chest, the influx of blood and racing endorphins forced a shaky breath out of her slightly parted lips.
The yellow tinted lighting blended in smoothly with Joohyun's barely tanned skin, she echoed the quiet beauty of an idol, her hair cascaded down her shoulders as her thin fingers tapped against the table, her eyes had a gentle shine to them despite them drowning in a sea of bloody murders and unsolved cases.
She turned from the quiet woman and back to her bowl and she made sure to dab a napkin on her face occasionally.
She quickly turned back to see Joohyun placing a few won onto the counter but she quickly slid the money back towards her.
"You don't have to do that." Seulgi raced to pull her wallet out of her pocket.
Seulgi felt two hands clasp onto her shoulders, her eyes slowly raised from her slightly empty wallet to two dark brown eyes staring back at her, her lips while dull were plump and shined beautifully in the flickering yellow light, she leaned in closely before saying, "Consider it my gift for doing a great job today."
The distant smell of the savory broth filled the air as Seulgi chuckled, a blazing heat had flushed into her cheeks and she could feel her cheeks turning a vibrant shade of red. She pulled herself backwards, feeling Joohyun's hands slide off her shoulders and swing by her waist.
"Goodnight Kang." She tapped on her holster and traced the buttons up to her collar before leaving.
Seulgi fell back onto her chair, trying her best to ignore the growing warmth in her cheeks as she poured the rest of the broth down her throat.
(But she walked home with a warmth churning within her cheeks and a heat simmering deep within her chest).
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> seulrene angst??? take a fuckin sip babes.
>
>
>
> EDIT 08/11/19:
>
> I edited a lot of this chapter, hopefully it's easier to read and the dialogue isn't as clunky as it was before.
>
>
>
> (It's fun to see how much my writing style has changed though!)
>
>
>
> But let me know what you guys think, and comments and kudos are always appreciated! :)
2. chapter two
Seulgi walked into the office as it imploded into senseless arguments and yells. Paper flew into the air as the secretary hissed a curse and slammed her hands onto the table, someone had shattered the coffee pot, brown liquid dripped off the walls while clear shards littered the floor below it.
"This is ridiculous, are you a fucking adult or a monkey?!" a loud voice boomed from one part of the precinct, "how could you fuck up such a routine examination?!"
"How about you take a look at the body!" a voice laced with absolute fury yelled back.
Seulgi stood among destruction and terror, she took a shaky step backwards, her hand flew to the wall in an attempt to steady herself. She looked among the sea of people and locked eyes with the chief of the precinct, his eyes were weary and the folds around his eyes were pulled downwards and he looked abnormally pale. But he spotted her and his eyes widened with an unmistakable sense of sorrow that sent Seulgi into a frenzy.
He pushed passed some distraught interns as he made his way towards her, "Kang?"
Seulgi felt her lips slam shut and her voice was quickly drowned out, her eyes stared at the newly-waxed floors in hopes that the shine would somehow pull her into a quieter world.
"Let's go somewhere quieter," he offered as he gestured towards his office.
Seulgi moved into the quiet room with hesitance, flinching when the door came to a shaking close.
He moved to his desk, his hand gestured to the chair weakly, giving her a sympathetic smile.
She hesitantly moved towards the chair, pushing it back a few inches.
"It looks like a goddamn mess out there," he said with an awkward chuckle as he barely lifted his head to peak out the window before he sluggishly moved back.
Her lips had loosened and if it wasn't for the muscles tying her jaw to the rest of her skull she was sure it would unhook and fall to the ground with a quiet clatter, "Am I getting fired?"
His eyes narrowed and he stifled a bitter chuckle, "No- No you aren't."
He heaved deeply, settling deeper into his chair as he wiped his face with his calloused hands.
Seulgi watched as he scooted up to his desk and sighed wearily into his hands before looking up with red tinged eyes.
After a few minutes of painful silence he spoke, "Detective Bae was found dead this morning."
The world had shattered into a startling indigo, the blues of the world seemed to melancholically hum as dark jagged lines split her world.
" _Bae Joohyun?_ " she asked slowly, her eyes staring at the plot of windows behind him.
"Yes."
" _My_ Bae Joohyun?"
He shifted in his seat slightly, "Yes Kang."
She took a shaky breath as the gears in her mind began to spin rapidly.
"Are we sure it's the same person?" she asked quickly. |
b2a4af5af5b943e4b27ee1df082d7fda | ['77e50d3c0771473c8b33838bb7ea9c52'] | ** HOMEWORLD -- OVER 7,000 YEARS AGO. **
_"Wow," Pearl breathed, staring down at the water. It was crystal clear, and the most magical, stunning shade of aqua that she had ever seen. It glistened and shimmered and rippled, and with every glimmer it seemed to change colour. The rocks that dotted the walls of the cave were glowing bright blues and purples, and staring at them made Pearl feel warm, relaxed and content._
_As if she wasn't entirely sure that the water was even real, Pearl balanced on the edge of the spring and stared at her own reflection with fascination. As she gazed deeper and deeper, her interest only piqued, and she began to hum to herself, a content smile pulling at her lips._
_And then she was pushed in._
_Pearl fell into the spring with a splash, flapping her limbs wildly. An obnoxious, cackling laughter filled her ears._
_"AHAHAHAHA! Oh, look at your FACE! Did I hurt your feelings?!"_
_Pearl's head rose above the water with an angry scowl, but it faded into silence as she got a good look at who had shoved her in. She had never seen a pearl so blindingly yellow -- or so, well...cocky, and fabulous..._
_She was getting off track._
_"Why did you push me in?!" Pearl snarled._
_The other pearl cackled, her voice loud and snotty. "Because you're filth! YOU'RE FILTH! You're a dirty little thing, Homeworld's trash, and I'm just washing you off! Ahahahaha! You were MADE in that water, and that's where you'll go to die! Do you see me?!" she swooned, her hands running up her form, her hips cocking. "You'll never be as good as this! Not one bit! I'm a star, and you're just a little--"_
_Pearl grabbed the other pearl's ankle. Her back slammed onto the ground with a dull thud, and Pearl dragged her into the water, shoving her down for good measure. The yellow pearl coughed dramatically and garbled and kicked, then swum up to the surface. Her head rose above the water with a panicked, angry gasp._
_"WELL!" she barked, the slightest glimmer of respect beginning to bloom in her gaze. Of all the gems she'd bullied here, not one had taken her into the water with them. "A-aren't you just DREADFUL! O-oh dear, you touched me -- oh my, oh my, oh goodness, I'm filthy now--"_
_"The water will wash you off," Pearl cooed in a mock imitation of the other's voice._
_The yellow pearl gasped. "Oh, stars, you're broken!" Her arm flew above her brows dramatically. "There's no hope for you! How in the world did you make it past your inspection?!"_
_(My friend told me to be quiet, is how...)_
_"That's none of your business!" Pearl spat back, beginning to climb out of the water._
_"Such an awful, awful attitude...! I suppose your form might be flawless, but you lost me when you opened your little mouth...oh, Yellow Diamond would just CRUSH you under her boots!"_
_"Then why don't you go lick them for her?!"_
_There was a squawking gasp, and Yellow Diamond's pearl reached to drag her back into the water. She missed her at the last second, and Pearl stood safely, beginning to pad off down the cave's long, illuminated corridor._
_“Put your nose down!” Yellow Pearl shrieked._
_Pearl turned her nose up._
_“Don’t act like you’re proud of what you are just because you’re off duty, you dreadful thing! You’ll never be anything more than what you are!”_
* * *
_ (Oh, stars.) _
Pearl’s eyes were wide, and she had fallen silent. Ever since Peridot had shared her story, it was like a closed door had been re-opened. How long had it been since she had truly acknowledged her early life, long before Rose? Since she had come to terms with it? It was long overdue, she was certain of that. There was so much more, so much more than Rose that had made her a rebel. She’d been defiant since the moment she was formed, and she’d let it all be drowned out by her obsessive love.
She hadn’t gone to war for love, for Rose. She had made herself think that, but she had not. She had gone to war after witnessing and facing discrimination one too many times. She had fought so that all beings could be free of pain and suffering.
Love was not her identity, the yearning for justice was.
_ (I’m such a…a square. And by the way, Steven, not all pearls know each other, but that was just a very convenient way of avoiding your question, because I might actually — well, a lot of us do, and I might actually know this one, and I just might have earned her respect, and she just might have become my friend thousands of years ago, and I) _
“Pearl,” Garnet says,
“I know,” Pearl breathes. “I know, I know, I _know_ , for heaven’s sake, I **_KNOW!_** Can’t you just let me accept it on my own terms?!”
“Pearl?” comes Amethyst’s voice. She stirs on the couch, rubbing her eyes her voice hoarse and raspy. “Pearl! Pearl, you’re back!”
“Hi, Amethyst,” Pearl says sheepishly. Her cheeks light up and she clasps her hands together. “Sleeping well?”
“Yeah, yeah, but — Pearl!”Amethyst scrambles to sit up, rousing the gemlings. Oddly enough, none of them seem to mind their disturbed rest. It’s as if they weren’t sleeping at all. They turn their heads to look at Pearl, except for Violet, who yawns tiredly and buries herself back under the blankets. Amethyst stares at her in concern, lifting the blankets up to take a peek at her. It doesn’t last long, the gemlings cutting through her mind with their shrill chirping and cheering.
“Mommy, mommy!” Mauve screams. The three stuffed animals that she demands on sleeping with every night are thrown to the floor, and she dislodges herself from Amethyst’s arms, bounding right on over to Pearl. | 1bec9059956747b89f383e3a8b564886 | ['77e50d3c0771473c8b33838bb7ea9c52'] | Pearl cuddles up to Amethyst, tracing circles and hearts on her fat belly. “It’s okay to have emotions, Amethyst…to struggle, to be honest about difficulties… The ability to admit that — isn’t that the most honourable of all?” She leans in and plants another kiss on purple skin, this time on Amethyst's jawline. “You’re not doing anything wrong, dear. You’re projecting your own insecurity onto others, thinking that we all view you as a failure.”
Amethyst breathes a sigh. She doesn't know what to say, but she appreciates it so much. “Is…is everything, like…is it gonna hurt really bad to push them out?”
“You’ve undergone much worse pain,” Pearl assures her. “It certainly won’t be pleasant, but if humans can give birth to full-sized newborns, surely you can handle a few eggs.”
“They’re getting huge, P. It’s not like one or five of your skinny little noodle fingers up in there," Amethyst says. “There’s four of them.”
“The vaginal canal is made to stretch,” Pearl insists. “It’s all muscle and tissue that gets toned. The better exercised the walls are, the better they’re able to flex, stretch, and snap back together...”
Amethyst smirks. “I think I’m pretty well-exercised down there.”
“I agree. Not to mention, your body will lubricate itself. So, essentially, what I’m saying is that everything will be just fine. The pain is inevitable, but only temporary.”
“I getcha. Just saying, though, if we ever have any more gemlings in the future, you’re gonna be the one getting preggo.”
Pearl laughs. It rings like a bell and Amethyst’s cheeks heat up. “I’ll hold your hand while you lay. With the way you’ll squeeze it, I’m sure I’ll be able to share at least some of your pain."
“Thanks, babe. Really. Thanks a lot. This really helped.”
8. good deed in a naughty world
"Here it is," Pearl says, leaning down to bubble the gemstone of the corrupted gem that she and Garnet had just poofed. Once it's encapsulated, her hands rise, and she stares intently at the bubble.
And then it all comes rushing back to her. This monster had once been a friend. She had once fought on the same side as Pearl, and she might have walked proudly away with a victory in her arms and a planet to live on if not for the Diamonds unleashing that light -- that monstrously powerful, _blinding_ light --
Pearl gasps, her legs wobbling. The memories are dizzying. The sick, ugly noise of gemstones being smashed always worms its way back into her brain and loops endlessly on repeat. She whisks the bubble away and runs a hand down her face. Her palm comes back wet, and it takes her several moments to realise Garnet has her arm around her shoulders.
"Stop doing that to yourself," Garnet says.
"I've been better lately," Pearl insists. "I'm getting better again."
"I overheard your conversation with Steven."
"What...? Oh," Pearl says, her eyes widening. "Don't worry about any of that."
"You know you have to tell your gemlings."
There it is, Pearl thinks, and the bitterness rises from her stomach and into her throat. Every time she tries to move on, something or somebody has to bring it back. The only things that ever die in her world are those that she loves -- those
_(Rose)_
that deserved the world, an eternity. The evil always lived forever.
"I'm not going to talk to you about this, Garnet," Pearl spits, shaking herself free of Garnet's arm. "I've lived in the past for too long now. So have you. Isn't it time we move on?"
"Yes," Garnet says. "And we don't move on by ignoring memories, but by acknowledging them. That's why this keeps coming back to you."
In her head Pearl knows Garnet is right, but it's her noisy heart that hogs the stage. "Please," she begs, her fists clenching. "Garnet. I can't _talk_ about this right now. I'm worried about Amethyst enough as it is. I just want to enjoy my gemlings and my life without thinking about Rose a-and...what happened. If it comes back to me, then I'll deal with it then. Amethyst is always telling me to live in moment, and I'd like to experience that for once. Please. Let me."
Garnet doesn't show it. She's never entirely sure how to. But looking at Pearl, she feels practically suffocated, because Pearl sends her emotions drifting into the atmosphere like a contagious plague and Garnet can't avoid taking on her suffering. She wishes she could take it all away from Pearl, give her best friend a big hug and drain her of the tragedies they had experienced and the mistreatments they had endured.
But the real world wasn't so simple.
"Sure," Garnet says, trying hard to hide the strain in her voice.
* * *
Amethyst eyes the results of Pearl’s baby fever-induced shopping spree, watching as she stuffs blankets, stuffed animals and pillows into their nest. “So they’re like...totally into that stuff, right?”
“That’s right,” Pearl hums. “If there’s one thing gemlings share in common with human children, it’s that they love to play.”
Amethyst cocks an eyebrow and goes back to reading her magazine, one of many that she had taken from Vidalia’s house. She rests on her stomach on a bunch of cushiony pillows, lower body inside their nest and upper body outside of it. She and Pearl had been spending their days here now, as it was fast approaching the time for her to give birth. “Hey, P, could you be an angel and get me some coffee?”
Pearl opens the cabinet and reaches for a mug.
“No no, just the beans.”
Pearl meets Amethyst's gaze and stares at her, waiting for Amethyst to crack a smile and tell her she’s just joking. It never comes. She does as has been requested of her, walking over with a container of coffee beans and handing it to her. |
67aa3bc2710f488bae088cdbf0904f63 | ['77e560856bd146c5b927c21869df0513'] | Dear Dad
Dear Dad,
Sorry it's been awhile since the last letter. You know how things can get around here. At least I hope i'm able to describe to you in words just how hectic things can get when the war decides to visit the 4077th's front door. We've had bodies in and out for days now, both alive and not. I haven't even had time to process that though because as soon as one person's lifted off the table another's put on and I'm back to work again.
The days are long, and so are the nights here, Dad. I can't tell you how invaluable all of the nurses are. Where would us doctors be without them? Hopeless. It doesn't hurt that they're not too bad to look at either. Oh, and Corporal Radar O'reilly. He's a real morale booster and a real good kid too. Of course, I've probably mentioned that enough times in my letters to you to fill a small book by now. Speaking of mentioning things, I know how much you love the updates on Houlihan and Burns, you old dog, you. So, the other day I may have overheard a little bickering between the two going on in Hot lips' tent. I just happened to be nearby, honest. Ya know, Frank has a serious case of 'foot in mouth' syndrome. Mentioning your wife to your girlfriend is probably never a good idea, but I don't think he'll ever catch up with that memo. The rest of the unit are doing good too. Corporal Klinger's still pretty as ever in dresses and pantyhose, Father Mulcahy is still doing the Lord's work, and of course our ever vigilant leader, Colonel Potter is holding this unit together by a steel thread.
Hold on now, I didn't forget to mention Beej. He's in the mess tent right now. Scrounging up something that looks half way passable as food and what is no doubt a room temperature cup of coffee, I bet. He's a real lifesaver in this whole mess of a place, I swear it's true. People look at us and think I'm the one holding him together but Beej, he keeps me from losing it out here. After a long round of endless surgeries, no sleep, and pouring copious amounts of coffee down my gullet like today, when I'm so amped up, and I just can't come down it's like B.J.'s the only one in the world that can get me to. I don't know how he does it, but he says all the right things and all the death and carnage, it's still there, but it becomes a murmur in the background, and I just hear his voice and see his bright, shining smile looking right at me, Dad. Everything else just melts away for awhile.
Ya know, when this war is over I'm almost scared of what's gonna happen when I go home. Because when I close my eyes at night I feel panic start to creep in and sometimes my throat starts to close up. But then B.J is there. I always have the assurance that he's right there beside me, but when I go home... Forget it. I'm really okay, Dad. I don't want to worry you. I'm taking things one day at a time. Besides, there are people out here a lot worse off than me. I want you to know that whenever I do get a chance to sit for a minute and rest that I'm thinking of you. I hope you're well, and I also want you to know that I am, because even though the food's still lousy, I need you to know I'm not alone here, Dad.
Your son,
Benjamin | b77185fd98f14eb690a98a8e4064f492 | ['77e560856bd146c5b927c21869df0513'] | **But my heart still caught and my head's not clear**
**Of the pictures from before you were gone**
**And I never wanna hurt no one tryna forget your name**
**But something inside just don't feel the same**
**No, she's not you**
**And I don't know what to say**
**But I'll say it anyway**
**No matter what I do**
**I can't believe the lie**
**And I just can't see it through**
**No, she's not you**
**Woke up in the middle of the night**
**Started reachin' for the phone (aah)**
**Had to take a breath and remind myself**
**That you said you needed time alone**
**Didn't know what I wanted then**
**And I know I let you down**
**Baby, I know what I gotta do now, oh-ho-oooh**
**She's not you**
**And I don't know what to say**
**But I'll say it anyway**
**No matter what I do**
**I can't believe the lie**
**And I just can't see it through**
**She's not you when she smiles**
**Not you when she wakes**
**Or you when cries**
**Not you when she breaks**
**And I don't wanna hurt her**
**But I know that it's true**
**She's not you**
**Oh-ho oh woah, not you (not you, not you, not you)**
**No, she's, she's not you**
**I don't know what to say**
**But I'll say it anyway**
**No matter what I do**
**I can't believe the lie**
**And I just can't see it through**
**She's not you, yeah**
**No, she's not you**
**And I don't know what to say**
**But I'll say it anyway**
**No matter what I do**
**I can't believe the lie**
**And I just can't see it through**
**No, she's not you**
**No she's not you-ooooh**
**Woah ho...**
* * *
They were both silent for a few moments. Then all of a sudden, she surprised them both by laughing. "You're... singing me love songs now, Sam?", she looked at him with a small smile tugging at her soft lips.
He grinned as she started walking towards him, quickly sitting the guitar down and making his way over to her, only stopping when they were just a breath apart.
She whispered, "You are so-"
"Crazy?", he gave her a lopsided smile.
"Amazing", she said. Her voice was full of wonder.
Sam leaned down slowly and pressed his lips against hers. "We should... Breadstix", she whispered against his mouth.
He smiled, "We got time." And then he kissed her again, even more passionately. She chuckled when she realized that he was absolutely right. They had plenty of time.
**Author's Note:**
> All right, all done, thank you for reading! I do not own gLee, if I did Samcedes would still be together (I'm never gonna get over that tbh)... I don't own 'She's not You' by David Archuleta either... :( sad face, because it's a wonderful song... |
e058934d87b94951a90c6bcc87e447ee | ['77e9767f196e45688ad62129d87a6e3c'] | He showered far too often to be normal. About 5 times a day. If Harry came in and interrupted, which was a very unpleasant situation for everyone, he'd walk in to Draco dripping wet and wrapped in a towel loosely around his waist. Sometimes draped I'm nothing at all. Beating the mirror or walls, pulling at his own hair, scratching his own skin. It got so bad they had to make sure, when he ate, someone was there to monitor. There was a particularly nasty instance where, the week after they had found him and finally got him to eat something solid, Harry was bringing him clothes; Draco had demanded loose clothing. Said he couldn't breathe in normal robes. Harry came up to the boys dorm just in time to see Draco, sitting on the floor, pull a fork from over the heat of a candle flame and press it into his thigh. He watched Draco hiss and squeeze his eyes shut as the four fork prongs made red streaks on his leg as he pressed harder and harder. He heard it sizzle. Eventually crying out...but in the most wanton manner Harry had ever seen. It was a cry, wasn't it? Or was it a moan? Harry's eyes widened as he watched Draco's cock grow upwards in between bobs, inches away from the place on his thigh that he had pressed the hot fork into.
"Malfoy, what are you doing!?"
Draco's eyes grew wide and he grabbed the towel he probably should've been wearing. He was soaking wet, the sound must've been water sizzling off of his body. He dropped the fork and squeezed his eyes tight shut again, turning his face down at the floor.
"Get out" He mumbled in a croaky-too-much-crying voice.
Harry grabbed the roll of bandages sitting on the dresser they had given him for the wounds he refused to allow them to heal insisting they were "fine".
He kneeled down on his knees and reached to remove the towel. Draco squeaked in protest and inched away causing Harry to reach out roughly grabbing him by the shoulders.
"Malfoy, I don't know what happened to you. But if you tell me I might be able to help you..."
Draco tried to wiggle out of Harry's grasp still looking at the ground as tears slipped down his face,
"Let go of me" he ground out.
"Draco... Let me look at your leg. I'll just heal it and leave. I wont touch you or anything I promise."
"I deserve it" Draco snapped. He was shaking.
"LET GO OF ME" He screamed
"I can't BREATHE with you on me like this, stop." He was crying harder now.
"Get OFF OF ME" He shoved Harry back.
"Draco what happened to you?" Harry pressed.
"I DESERVED IT. LEAVE. JUST LEAVE ME ALONE ALL OF YOU. I DESERVED IT, WHY DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT? I should've been able to prevent it and I couldn't so it's just... my-FAULT"
"Draco," Harry scooted closer, releasing one of Draco's shoulders to use that hand to push Draco's face to face his own.
"What ever happened to you was obviously very horrible. And if you tell us and we treat you, you can LEAVE. Do you understand? We have to get certain information."
Draco started shaking more violently,
"Please let go of me, I feel like I can't BREATHE with you on me like this. I can't move, stop, I can't breathe, STOP" Draco flailed, stretching an arm out to snatch the fork off the floor and swung at Harry's head with it.
Harry swiftly caught Draco's wrist, shocked that the boy that had been so apathetic for so long was showing so much right now.
Suddenly Draco stopped, dropping the fork in Harry's lap and eyes widening.
He looked at Harry.
"Draco? Tell me why you did that to yourself?"
"I...I don't know..."
Harry sat for a second before dropping Draco's wrist.
He realize he may never know what was wrong with Draco. He wouldn't allow a medi wizard within a foot of him and would only speak to Harry.
"I need to take a shower."
Draco said standing. Still dripping wet from the one he had just taken.
"Your clothes are sitting on the bed."
Needless to say after that incident Harry had to be in the room when Draco ate. Some days he'd go from eating 2 to 3 plates of food in one sitting to...nothing for almost a week.
Some days he'd freak if Harry so much as walked quickly at him...and then there were the awkward situations.
"Harry..." Draco mumbled to the boy sitting at the other end of his bed eating, while Draco himself ignored his food.
"..y...yes?" Harry stuttered finding it odd that Draco would call him so familiarly.
He crawled over to Harry across the bed, one of the shoulders of his ridiculously loose shirt slipping off his shoulder.
"Why can't I eat alone anymore?"
'He wants something..' Harry thought.
"Because you took the fork and hurt yourself with it."
"So" Draco took the plate of food from Harry and the fork from his hand setting it down on the bed.
"That's bad?"
"It helps me think...and sleep and..." He got into Harry's lap, arching his back with one knee on either side of Harry's hips.
He began unbuttoning his shirt. Harry sat in some what shock not knowing what to do. He wanted to push Draco, but he couldn't push Draco. Touching him would send him back days of evolution. He spoke to other people sometimes now. But blocked everyone from touching him what so ever, or seeing him naked. Unlike before when he'd sit in his room wet and naked 24/7.
He slipped the shirt off his shoulders and ran a hand down his pale boney chest. | 1ab0a5a68f1a491fba39ef4415ccfdcb | ['77e9767f196e45688ad62129d87a6e3c'] | "This is... like when a baby bird sees a cat when it first opens its eyes and becomes hopelessly attached to it. You just so happened to be there when I opened my eyes... and stuck around when I continued to close them and pretend to not exist...You're bloody Harry Potter, you killed Voldemort. I can't make you do a damn thing you don't want to do, so don't act so helpless in this whole thing!"
"It's not like I WANT to hurt you!" Harry yelled stalking up to Draco and getting in his face.
"It's not like you give me a choice! It's like... It's like you just make my fucking blood boil or something!" He grabbed Draco's shoulders.
"You are just so real! So solid and... and you don't leave even if I want you to, you're so selfish, you never ask me about me! You don't make me think about all those stupid things and when I get angry at Ron I can't just punch him in the face and shag and it's all well and good!" He shook Draco.
"Do you understand?!" He shouted in his face.
"You make my fucking blood sing and my skin tingle and I just feel so strongly that... It's like something inside of me is burning! Like something is on fire and no matter of gentle touches and 'I love you's would satisfy it. It's so strong I just have to MAKE you feel it. I have to engulf you in this like it engulfs me!"
Draco tipped his head to the side, squinting, as if trying to read Harry's mind or possibly something written backwards on his forehead.
Harry sighed and released Draco's shoulders,
"Just touching you," he cupped Draco's face, sliding his hand down his neck and around to his hair.
"It's...It's not enough, Draco. I need to... I need to feel you I need to make you feel... as intensely as I do..." He gripped his hair and Draco's head jerked back, his lips parting slightly as he squeaked.
Harry gripped harder,
"THAT!" He shouted jerking Draco's head back and slamming his back into the wall.
"That SOUND."
Draco moaned as his body collided with the wall and Harry pressed tightly in to him.
Harry breathed heavily down Draco's neck.
"This is how we've always been... You have always been this... permanent fixture...You run up and say stupid things and then I hurt you and you hurt me more so I hurt you more back and we fight and throw punches and we bloody well HATE each other and then we get up and walk away and go back to our lives feeling better because we were each others coping mechanism." He nipped Draco's neck.
"You think if I didn't enjoy hitting you just a little I would've kept doing it for seven years?" Bite. Gasp. Moan. Arch.
Draco dug his nails into Harry's back and pulled in his shirt, he chuckled,
"Oh, Potter, you're not as dumb as you look. But you still think I'm the spoiled brat." He hopped up wrapping his legs around Harry's waist.
"We meet, I try to make nice, you turn me down." Harry dug his teeth into his neck deeper.
"ngh... We land in separate houses, you have all the friends in the world, I have enemies who call themselves my friends."
Harry growled,
"You had a fucking family Malfoy."
Draco laughed again, squirming as Harry removed his mouth and latched on to his shoulder, grinding their hips together. Draco shuttered.
"You find solace in beating my arse in quiditch, something I thought I was genuinely good at. I go home and my dad beats my arse and my mums drunk as fuck and come back to school pissed, see you, start a fight, you get to pummel me and feel good. Big and important. Your life sucks a little because too many people love you."
"You know nothing" Harry hissed lifting Draco and carrying him over to drop him on the bed.
"Meanwhile I'm in a hole somewhere getting fucked ten times a day and torn to shreds. You need your release back. Your coping mechanism. And life just drops me off on your front porch, ready and willing to have the shit beaten out of me whenever you need a good wank." Draco laughed maniacally. He slid a hand up his own chest, lifting his shirt and fingering the scabs from last night.
Harry hung his head.
Draco stopped laughing.
"I always wondered what could have you so wound up though... Always ready to pound my ass into the floor. Too many people falling over themselves to love you?" He sat up and cocked his head to the side, resting his hands on Harry's hips and nuzzling his crotch.
Harry looked down at Draco, poison dripping from his eyes.
He lifted his hand and swiftly struck Draco across the face.
"You. Know. Nothing. I had no one. I lived in a closet. My 'family' used me like a house elf, they starved me and beat me and said horrible things to me and I could never fight back." Harry spat.
Draco turned his face back towards Harry, a smile creeping across his lips.
"You're angry at them, then?"
"WHY are you smiling?" Harry demanded.
Draco leaned forward, touching his nose to the button on Harry's pants before catching it in his teeth and pulling, slipping it through the hole.
"How angry are you at them?" He grabbed the zipper between his teeth and pulled down, gently.
"Did they insult your mother? Your friends?"
"SHUT UP" Harry ground out, smacking Draco again.
Draco cackled.
"He liked to strike you in the face, didn't he. And you just sat there and took it like a little bitch-" |
355ad2f206b647d6bf99f02e9c0efb2a | ['77ed546070dd45b6908e503297cf66c5'] |
1. Star Crossed lovers
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Hi, this is my first official work on Archiveofourown! I have been awaiting the invitation for weeks and weeks and in SO happy that i now have an account and a place to share my work with other writers!
> Anyway, this is a poem I wrote a while back about a toxic relationship, trying to find who I am, and dealing with the unwanted and hateful opinions of our unequal, unsupportive society.
Happy together
Because
Boy’s dreamer by night
But always is different
And as lips intertwine
Inside my mind
I find the mirror’s reflection tonight
Do see me with he
As I saw the watered lotus flower
In a garden of thorns and weeds
Love us
Or pretend
And whispers
My friend
As the weeds do whisper
And thy thorns do impale the tender flesh
And burn like hellfire
Until life is no longer dire
And your soul screams “I can’t take this”
Wonder and imagine
The bird
As it has to fly
See me as the bird
And ask little
I am not a girl
Nor boy
Nor do I embody
A man or a woman
I know not of what or who I am
But imagine me as the bird
I must either find who I am and survive
Or be flightless, trapped, and die
2. Everything Will Be Okay
It begins
Secretly
A revelation
Of one’s true self
He does not love his body
He was born in the wrong body
And then he thinks
To himself
Is this selfishness?
No
This is not a phase
He is not insane
But they make him think that he is
Because humanity is inhumane
So he keeps it
To himself
To be what he is not
To be whom he is not
To let them see what they want
But remembers the scars
He never forgot
He is not okay
No
Not today
Can’t deal with the pressure
But he sees a future
So he decides to wait
Then he turns eighteen
Slowly comes out and moves away
And now he is free
Free to dance in the rain
He is no longer she
And he finds that he is now safe
And he finds someone
To make him okay
Long threads of dead cells
Cut from the skull
And the breasts are bound
So the chest does not show
G. R. S.
That is his goal
Three years later
He’s at a bar
Orlando
And he crashes his car
His best friend
In the hospital
Gun hit him
Didn’t know this was possible
His parents didn’t call
To ask if he was alright
But he knows
He can’t lose sight
Of who he is
On the inside
Five years later
He’s married to a man
They have a couple kids
And of them is pan
His best friend was okay
And now everything
Is okay
3. Not In Her Body
She's not in her body
she's in her mind
searching for something
she'll never find
trying to escape the hate
that leaves her blind
running from the fears
she cannot hide
trying to be someone
she cannot be
yearning for someone
she'll never see
holding on to someone
wasn't meant to be
waiting for someone to find her
and set her free
hoping for something
it's never gonna happen
always living
in her dreams
someone's trying
to get her attention
but she never
hears a thing
4. Cold Snowy Memories
We met in November
On my 16th birthday I remember
You said “Imma make you mine”
And chills ran up my spine
I thought about you all the time
And I said “okay”
Because I couldn’t see the signs
Through your lies behind those pretty eyes
Cuz you the kinda girl that hides
And says that she is fine
When she got scars on her arms
And inside she is dying
And alone she is crying
Cuz no one understands you
But I do
I remember
In December
After we had broken up
Again, you had cut
We were in the gym
And it started to snow outside
And that day I realized
You were in love with him
Not me, oh well, that’s okay
Cuz in the snow
You lose track of time and go with the flow
And I start to grow
And i start to know
that all you had was bitches and hoes
I aint mad though
you only dropped me for some tobacco
lovin a player, took so many photos
but bitch when he hurts you
you can cry on my shoulder
I wont say I told you so
What’s wrong with you
Silly little girl
Just another damn toy
he can use
play with
and disregard
Why can’t you see
that to him
that’s all you fucking are
Stupid bitch
you’ve already been scared
Why would you
set yourself up again
We both know you know
what’s gonna happen
He will leave, break your heart
Just like all those other men
All you gonna gain from this
Is more stress
and pain
and you’re gonna miss it
You’ll go back to cocaine
and popping happy pills
You’ll pick at your veins
and say that happiness kills
Please put down the rope
the drugs
your nails
the knife
Just fucking learn to love yourself
and love your fucking life
Because baby
you are flawless
perfect in my eyes
you don’t need a man
to take your hand
mine is just as fine.
All he wants
is to take your fucking dress off
cut out the outer edges
of your counterpart
but I only wanna
be with you
hold your hand and
breathe with you
but when I hold your hand
you never hold mine
I don’t even know
Why I am still tryin
Cuz I feel like if I leave you
And when he does too
You’re gonna be cryin
And I don’t want you to die | 77c7d1d0d065428db7814239ac615743 | ['77ed546070dd45b6908e503297cf66c5'] | Prologue [TO FEEL REAL]
PROLOGUE
What is real?
What is the truth and what are the lies?
Are the mentally ill really sick, or are they the only ones who are truly sane?
What if our dreams are the real world, and when we ‘wake up’ is when we’re dreaming.
What if life is a lie, and nothing is real, and what if the only way to finally wake up and be real is to die? What if, like in a dream, death is the only way to wake up and truly live?
And if so, are mental hospitals how they keep people trapped in this unreal world, to stay here forever, until they are chosen by default to die?
Are you ever so deep in thought, so lost, that the only thing you can think is “what is this..” or “I just don’t feel real... nothing feels real...”
That’s how I felt in my first year of high school.
Everyone I knew had told me that high school was so much better than middle school. I mean, in a way, it was. I got to escape that old, congested prison of bad memories and unbearable people, and I got a fresh start. Sort of. A lot of the people who had hurt me, the ones who hated me, and the ones who were still in the process of hurting me, became more distant and I could avoid them a lot more easily.
But in many other ways, high school was so, so much worse. Even though the thought of going back to middle school never once crossed my mind for even a second, high school was still much worse.
Middle school was like having a rope around my neck, slowly being tightened more and more until I couldn’t breathe, and then holding my breath for what seemed like forever... and soon enough, my vision became blurry, and my mind began to depart from my physical body, until it drove me insane, and eventually the numbness was all that was left for me to feel...
Then eighth grade was finally over, and that was the rope loosening, and falling off. That was regaining my senses and healing my wounds. That was my fallen apart world and my shattered, exhausted heart slowly, ever so slowly, being tapped and glued back together, and finally, given a chance to heal. That summer was a deep, filling inhale, and a long sigh of relief.
That summer was the beginning of the rest of my life.
But I was such a fool...
If I had only known...
If someone, anyone had given me even the slightest warning of what was to come...
Mabey I would have been more prepared...
It would have given me time to build a wall around my heart to protect it from being broken again...
Mabey I should have known...
Mabey it should have been obvious...
But it wasn’t...
And I did what I always do... I got my hopes up way too high...
Leaving my heart wide open and ripe for the taking...
And I set myself up to be broken...
Every damn time...
I know you’re wondering how the ‘depressed faggot’ got be that way, so, for the sake of your entertainment, I’ll make a list of names of the people who “helped” me on my wonderful journey that got me to where I am now; which is what many people would call “time to go to the mental hospital.” Either because of my sexuality, gender identity, and/ or my almost constant negative outlook on life as a whole.
So here it is (I’m being nice and just putting their initials, so you don’t get any ideas about tracking these people down and interrogating them and getting me involved in some privacy lawsuit or something.) :
• N. C. S.
• D. G.
• J. L. J.
• C.
• J. P.
• J.
• K. R.
• A. L.
• G. Q. J.
• S.
• MYSELF |
762d7e9199c24b6b8a99302f2376b361 | ['77efaf158eae44c683fdd7397f57fa73'] | The Corner Store
“No, Dad.”
Mr. Vasilias can’t understand it. He and Neptune take a trip down to the local corner store, only a few blocks away from their apartment, weekly so he can buy him some of his favourite candies as a reward for his hard schoolwork, and provide some fun family bonding. Neptune has always loved it – even going so far as to beg for more trips a week if he did extra well on a test. But for some reason, today Neptune is not having it.
“What’s wrong Neptune, I thought you’d be excited. You always like going to the corner store.”
“No. I hate the corner store.”
Alarm bells immediately go off in Mr. Vasilias’ head. He knelt down next to his son. They hadn’t even made it out of Neptune’s bedroom before this temper tantrum had caught on.
“Neptune, c’mon buddy. What’s up? Did something happen?”
Neptune isn’t meeting his eyes now, and it looks like they’re getting bright with the promise of tears.
“You know if you didn’t get the grade you said you did, that’s ok. You work hard every week, and I love you, and I want to spend this time together.”
“I-It’s not fair,” Neptune seems very close to tears now.
“Hey, buddy. Have I been pressuring you too much? It’s ok if you don’t get high grades.”
“No, my grades are fine and I don’t care about that. I just don’t like the convenience store. Can’t we go somewhere else?”
Now he’s confused, because this convenience store has a candy that Neptune is particularly fond of, imported from Vale, and is the only nearby place that Neptune can get it, which is why they settled on that place in particular for their outings.
“Okay, Neptune, that’s fine if you want to go somewhere else. and I’m glad you’re not upset with me. But you’re clearly still upset about something, and I need to know what it is.
Why don’t you like the corner store anymore? It’s ok, you can tell me.”
Neptune is quiet for a moment, biting his lip, trying to get everything together.
“They were mean to my friend Sun.”
That’s a name he hasn’t heard before.
“Who’s Sun? I haven’t met him yet. Is he from your school?”
Neptune nodded. “Yeah, I met him at the playground last week and he’s really nice. He’s really good at climbing and running. And we were playing, but then we got thirsty so we went to the corner store for a drink, but the cashier said that Sun couldn’t come in and he made him wait outside. But I wanted to go to the store to show Sun the candy, but he couldn’t come in, so I left too. Sun was really sad after.” He broke out of the memory to look his father in the eye. “I don’t get it, dad.”
His son looked up at him with confused, imploring eyes. “Dad, what’s a vermin?”
Mr. Vasilias blinked at the sudden topic change, but Neptune had always been inquisitive, so he answered out of habit.
“Vermin means like an unwanted rodent. Usually something considered dirty, like a rat.”
Neptune’s face scrunched up, as confusion seemed to cloud over some of his sadness.
“No, that can’t be right. Sun said his tail was a monkey tail, so he’s not vermin, is he Dad?” Neptune asked, very unsure.
Mr. Vasilias held in his shock with a deep breath.
“Neptune, even if your friend had a rat tail, he wouldn’t be vermin. Ok? There’s nothing wrong with your friend, and there’s nothing wrong with anyone who has animal features.”
Neptune went back to biting his lip as he quietly mulled over his father’s words.
“You know what?” said Mr. Vasilias, “How about instead of us going to the store today, you can invite your new friend to play. I’d love to meet him. And we can ask him what stores he likes to go to, and we can go to those ones in the future for your candy.”
Neptune, ever a thoughtful child, took a moment to think it over before a large smile grew on his face.
“Yeah dad! You can meet Sun and see how cool he is!”
Laughing with his son’s cheering, Mr. Vasilias heaved a sigh of relief.
“I’m proud of you, Neptune,” he said.
Neptune paused, confused by his dad’s serious tone.
“For what, dad?”
Mr. Vasilias laughed.
“For making good friends. It’s a very important skill, Neptune, so I’m proud of you.” | 88692bd57a9d4d158e214c69f8e0db92 | ['77efaf158eae44c683fdd7397f57fa73'] | Neptune brought his fingertips to his temple, he hoped he wouldn’t always need this handicap, but for right now it helped him get it going. His brows knitted in concentration, he blinked and his eyes shifted from his normal blue to a glowing violet, and he sent out the first wave of his eco-location.
That wasn’t the most accurate way of describing it, but it was the best he had for right now. He didn’t need to emit a noise himself, but he could see sound waves pulsing through the air. From the balcony, he looked around at the levels around him. Lines of sound bounced off the chandelier in every direction, impossible to decipher. Neptune groaned and shook his head, already feeling a migraine coming on. He turned back to his floor, and saw that the sounds were actually emanating from a corner on this level. He blinked rapidly to clear his eyes, which cleared back to their normal colour.
As he drew closer to this corner of the library the sounds sounded as if they were becoming louder – not because he was getting closer, but in the sense that whoever was making them seemed to be becoming more frantic by the second.
Neptune stalked the stalks, tracking the source of the noise. He came to a row where a pile of books were fallen ramshackle to the floor. Scuffling sounds could be heard from a few rows over. What was this airhead’s _problem?_ Didn’t they understand that libraries were for quiet?
Neptune started gathering the books in a knee-jerk reaction before he even realised what he was doing. Well, he reasoned, no point leaving them on the floor to get stepped on. He searched for their call number and had to step back when he figured out where they’d come from.
“All the way up there?” he murmured, staring up at the highest shelf. There was no ladder in sight – so was the person who had gotten these really that tall? Neptune gulped at the prospect of confronting an older student. There was no way Neptune could reach that shelf, so he left the book on a trolley nearby, and continued his investigation of the noise.
The scuffling suddenly pattered above him, to his shock, and he looked up just in time to see a flash of bright yellow dash across the top of the shelves.
His trepidation over crossing an older, larger student was forgotten in his surprise and he cried out.
“Hey!”
A burst of light exploded a few shelves over, showering golden sparks. He stared in shock, but managed to recover and give chase.
“No, no, no!” came a voice from up ahead. Neptune reached the corner of the stands where the voice was coming from. Carefully, he peeked around the corner, and froze at what he saw.
Sitting among the books was a boy. The first thing that startled Neptune was that he actually looked Neptune’s age, not the behemoth upperclassman Neptune had expected. The extraordinary bit was that the boy was sitting literally _among the books_ – he’d scaled the shelves and was sitting squeezed between them on the top shelf.
Suddenly more scuffling could be heard from above – were there two crazy bookstack-climbers in here?
A bright yellow light, the same as what Neptune had seen before, leapt from a nearby bookshelf, a book in hand. It halted next to the boy in the bookshelf, and Neptune got a chance to assess its features, realizing that it was some kind of copy of the boy sitting right there. _Was that his semblance?_
“Took you long enough,” the boy grumbled, throwing aside the book he’d been looking at and grabbing the book the copy held out to him.
Before Neptune study the copy any closer, the copy exploded in the same shower of light that Neptune had seen before.
Neptune barely managed to cover up an embarrassing squeak of surprise, but the boy on the bookshelf remained unfazed by the small pyrotechnics as he frantically flipped through the pages of the book he’d been handed.
Neptune worked up his nerve, and came out from around the corner.
“Hey – you know you shouldn’t be up there.” He said in a stern voice. He waited but the boy did nothing.
“Hey!” he repeated. The boy didn’t seem to hear him, engrossed in the book and muttering to himself.
“HEY! Want to keep it down?!” His yell startled to boy out of his concentration, who jolted in his spot.
Neptune went to rush forward to catch him, but all of a sudden the boy seemed to catch himself mid-air. Neptune tried to see if another clone had appeared to somehow catch him, but it turned out the boy had one more surprise for Neptune.
“Geeze, yelling about being quite, and you nearly make me fall on my face? What’s your problem?”
Neptune could only stutter in response.
The boy seemed completely unperturbed by the fact that he was in a precarious angle off the edge of the bookshelf, balancing on his heels, and only held up by grip of a long, blonde tail.
Neptune’s train of thought was cut off by the guy suddenly pulling his entire body back to the shelf (just by his tail!), then flipping onto the floor in front of him. He landed perfectly among a pile of his discarded books.
“Look, if you’re this big a nerd to be criticizing me for my volume, then maybe you can help me out. I have been _all over_ this place looking for stuff for Prof. Orion’s essay, and I can’t make heads or tails of anything in here!” |
899cb311651f401185dc153cd4f65776 | ['77f2a1abe7324459856e049dfb528519'] | "Alison?" Emily was looking at her, not forcing anything but wanting to understand what had happened. But how could she put into words what had taken place a few hours ago? She knew Emily would chase him down and kill him as soon as she knew. She knew she had always been too protective of her, and Alison loved that about Emily. She would not allow anyone to hurt her and get away with it and somehow Alison wished Emily would really make his life a living hell or even end it. "He…" Emily's head was running a hundred miles an hour. He? Who was he?
"Babe, who is he? James?" Alison shook her head. No, James would never do such thing; he was the most pure hearted person she knew besides Emily and he had been her first love. "Noel?" and Emily could only watch as Ali flinched and started crying again. What had that bastard, son of a bitch, done to her? "Sweetheart, did he hurt you?" Alison nodded, snuggling up to her and Emily saw red. .He. She knew from the first time she saw him that he didn't seem to be what he appeared. She had disliked him ever since, and apparently she was right, "Did he..." Emily couldn't get the words out. If she said them out loud, it would make all of it real and she was not sure she could handle it. But she had to make sure she knew what was happening, "did he force himself on you?" and her heart was trying to escape her chest, beating as fast as it possibly could.
Exactly there and then, Alison broke all over again. She sobbed into Emily's arms, and Emily herself had tears streaming down her face. How could he? She didn't deserve this. Sure she was no saint, but no one deserved something like this. Emily was going to fucking kill Noel.
"Ali, hey. You're going to get through this. We're getting through this. I'm here for you. You know I'll protect you to the ends of the Earth", Alison looked into Emily's eyes and nodded. She knew she was safe as long as she was with Emily "Do you want to go to the hospital? You'll have to take tests. I know this is overwhelming but I need to be practical about this. We need to get his fucking ass in jail", Alison shook her head. She had already gone through too much. She just wanted to forget and she knew Noel would never dare to come back or touch her again. "Alison…" Emily started, "He can't get away with it. You have to…"
"NO! I don't want to talk to a bunch of other people about this. I just want to forget. I don't want to see him ever again and I don't want to drag this in court and have everyone know what happened. I want to forget!" she yelled at Emily and instantly regretted it. Emily deserved anything but to be yelled at. She understood Alison's wishes, "I know, princess. We won't do anything you don't want. I won't insist". Alison smiled sadly.
"He found out that I slept with James. I don't know how he found out but he did. He showed up and pinned me against the wall so hard", by now her sobs had slowed and she knew she had to tell Emily what had happened, no matter how difficult it would be. But she knew she could trust Emily. Alison knew she wouldn't judge. She took a deep breath. "Take as long as you need, Ali", Emily offered. Alison smiled, this girl was an angel sent from heaven.
"He… he said that I was a slut. That I made him wait for a year, that he had waited patiently for me to be ready to give myself to him and that in just a few weeks of having broken up with I had already gone and fucked James", tears were still in her eyes. The same eyes filled with both rage and disgust. The same eyes that were once so electric and happy. The same eyes that now presented so much pain and numbness. Emily hugged Alison close to her chest once again. "How could he have done this, Em? He used to be so sweet and caring and gentle. How did he turn into this monster?" She truly wanted answers and unfortunately Emily had none. Nothing could justify such actions. All she could do was comfort Alison.
"I don't know, baby. I really don't", she shook her head, "We should leave. It's getting really cold. I suppose you don't want to go back to your house for now, right?" Alison nodded; she didn't want to be back to the place where it happened. She knew she'd have to go there eventually, but not now. Not when everything was so clear in her mind.
"You're coming with me, and you'll spend the whole weekend there. Give me your keys and I'll go inside to grab your stuff and some clothing. Do you want to take a bath?" she looked at Alison questioningly.
"I've taken three showers since… I felt so dirty", Alison informed her. Emily only nodded, she understood.
They both got up from the floor, Emily supporting Alison, who was clearly very weak, and headed to the latter's house's back entrance. Emily grabbed what Alison had asked for, and soon they were in Emily's house and she was setting up Alison's bed beside hers.
None of Emily's parents dared to question anything when they saw Alison and the state she was in. She's going to stay here for the weekend, is that okay? Emily had asked her parents, who just nodded. If you need anything let us know. Emily's caring and selfless character had to come from somewhere and that was why Alison loved Emily's parents. | fdb659834f5146849ef7aada8f3a40d8 | ['77f2a1abe7324459856e049dfb528519'] |
I think our kid is on drugs
**Author's Note:**
> because i don't want to work, so i procastinate a lot.
>
> will proofread later.
>
> hope you enjoy!
“I think our kid is on drugs”, Cristina Soto chokes on her drink, both from the _motherfucking _scare of the front door slamming shut but also because of the worry her wife just expressed so bluntly, orange juice is all over her mobile phone and the couch and – _oh my god_ – the latest article she has been proofreading. She’s trying to clean everything, because she had been proofreading her latest psychology article for the past 45 minutes and Joana has the fucking _audacity_ to just sit on their other couch completely out of herself and not helping Cris in any way.
Joana’s head is running and she’s not really aware of what is happening around her so she’s completely surprised when she hears something crash on the floor next to her.
“Holy fuck, just my luck”, as if everything else wasn’t enough, the fucking glass breaks and Cris isn’t sure she can deal with this right now, but Joana finally getting up to help her, makes her calm down and they clean everything up in silence, making their living room semi presentable. They get back from the kitchen, where they put away all the stuff and where they put Cris’ article drying spread out on the counter. They sit on the couches they were sitting on before, and Cris takes a deep breath, Joana looking at her expectantly.
“Okay, let’s breathe. First, what the fuck did you say?” Joana almost laughs at the facial expression her wife makes, but knows this is not the time, because she is worried as fuck and needs to talk to Cris about it.
“I think our kid is on drugs”, she repeats what she had said when she first entered their home. Cris looks at her, her beautiful blue eyes wide and clearly confused, “Okay. Let’s clear this up. Which one?”
Joana does think Cris’ question is acceptable and understands her confused face, “Isabella”, she replies shortly. What she doesn’t understand is her wife’s reaction. Cris just loses it, laughing harder than she has in years and that leaves Joana very confused. This was such a serious matter and suddenly her wife is laughing? Cris’ finally calms down under her wife’s judgmental look. “Joana, baby, Isabella is clearly our least problematic child. If you can even call our children problematic.” Cris tries to reason with Joana, but her wife’s frown tells her she’s not convinced, “C’mon, what makes you think that?”
And this is where Joana can finally explain her reasoning, “Cris, she’s been out of the house more frequently, since like two weeks ago. She used to stay inside reading and studying and practicing guitar. Suddenly, she’s out almost every day of the week. I know she complies with our curfew and stuff, but her ‘hanging out with friends’ every day just doesn’t make sense. Then, the bags under her eyes are darker and more accentuated and she has always had a very nice sleeping schedule but lately it’s harder to get her to wake up and she’s always so sleepy during breakfast. And, okay, I’m exposing myself, but this is what happened to me when I started smoking and I just don’t feel comfortable with our baby girl smoking, Cristina.”
Cris can understand her wife’s point of view and suddenly she gets a bit worried. She knows she hasn’t been paying much attention to her family lately as she’s working on finishing an article on Borderline Personality Disorder for one of the most important Psychology magazines in Europe, and she explained that to both her wife and their kids and they understood. The deadline was the day after tomorrow, so her mind was focused on that. “Okay. You make a fair point and suddenly I’m scared shitless. She’s 16, she can’t be on drugs!”.
Joana doesn’t really know if she regrets sharing this information with her wife, as she is sure Cris is going to give herself an aneurism from thinking so hard and frowning that much, so she tries to revert the damage and get her wife to calm down, “Cris, let’s think here. An action plan. Maybe we should try and talk to her tonight? See her explanation for why she’s acting like this? I could be totally overreacting, you never know”. And Joana is pleased with herself when the blonde woman nods, “Okay. I know Sofía is not coming back until a couple hours after dinner, she’s hanging out with Miguel, and we can send Francisco to his room sooner, I know he would thank us for skipping family time.” Both of them smile, their son – Isabella’s twin – had changed a bit when he hit his teenage years and if before he would live for his moms, now he would much rather stay in his room playing computer games, but they knew this would only be a phase.
“Okay, it seems as we got a plan! We can do this.” Joana is confident with how things will work out and her wife doesn’t seem to be as preoccupied as before.
“Now, can I get a kiss? Because you almost gave me a heart attack with the way you came in”. Joana smiles softly at Cris’ request and immediately gets up from the couch and walks to Cris, bending a bit and gently pressing her lips against Cris and _god,_ the way she felt inside every time she kissed Cris would never change. If it hadn’t for the past 23 years, it never would. |
76af01b4028a4627b8382303ff02a756 | ['77fd1141c8d548beb00c1341beb82853'] | It only turned out to be Ren (of course, he chided himself, who else could open the doors to his quarters like that?), who was visibly distraught, helmet abandoned at his feet. It was likely covering up a new dent in the floor.
No wonder he always wears that ridiculous thing, Hux mused as he lowered his weapon. Nobody would take those boyish features seriously, not when his brow furrowed at the slightest hint of frustration and his bottom lip was chapped from constant biting. What a dreadful habit.
Before he had recovered enough from his shock to ask what the man was doing in his room, Kylo asked, “What happened? I sensed that you were distressed and in pain.”
“I...burned my wrist. Just barely. How did you sense that, exactly?” He thought he would be able to feel if Ren was snooping in his mind from now on, but people didn’t make it to his position without a healthy dose of paranoia in their lives.
“...You projected it?” Ren seemed confused, as if he were just guessing.
“Was that a question or an answer?”
“An answer. You momentarily projected your feelings and I assumed the worst. Plenty of men on board would kill for your position.” Hux couldn’t tell which of them Ren was trying to convince. Something about his demeanor seemed...off. “Here, let me see the burn.”
He held out his left hand expectantly. Hux complied with the request despite himself and rested the back of his hand in Ren’s palm, exposing the blistered skin of his wrist. “It’s hardly any of your concern, Ren. I’ll have a droid fetch me a bacta patch-”
“Shh.” Ren’s penchant for dismissively cutting him off was starting to fray his nerves lately, but he allowed him to carefully cover the burn with his right hand without any further protest.
“I haven’t had many chances to practice this, but it’s quite simple. Hold still.”
“Wait, what are you - oh. _ Oh. _ That’s...a rather...curious sensation.” He couldn’t tell if his arm felt warm or cold underneath Ren’s fingers, and there was a slightly ticklish feeling running through his nerves. Or maybe it was more of a stinging feeling. He couldn’t be sure, but he knew for a fact that his face was flushed, could feel it reaching his ears as a cold sweat broke out along his hairline.
Ren lifted his hand, revealing his now healed forearm. Flabbergasted, Hux pressed his fingers firmly over the spot the burn had occupied, confirming that his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. There was no residual pain or sign of a blemish; if anything, the skin there looked better than before.
“I honestly had no idea the Force could be used for something like that. Thank you.” Hux was not a man who readily expressed gratitude. He requested, he commanded, he ordered, but he never said ‘thanks’ to those he deemed beneath him. But he felt it was necessary right now, not just for healing him, but for offering to teach him about the Force altogether. He had obviously been underestimating the range of Ren’s abilities all this time.
When he shifted his gaze to the other man, he was taken back by the conflicted expression on Ren’s face as he stared at Hux. Discomforted by the scrutiny and the man’s silence, he attempted to break the tension. “If you’re capable of healing that easily, why do you have scars all over?” he asked, curious about the small marks he had noticed on his chest and arms the night he barged into Ren’s quarters.
“I can’t heal myself, only others.” Anticipating Hux’s demands for elaboration, he continued, “Don’t think of it as healing, think of it as transferring energy or life force. I can transfer that to another person with no problem, but I can’t transfer energy from myself to myself. Not really.”
“Does Snoke not let you use medicine though? That’s a lot of scars, even for someone who’s constantly fighting on the frontline.” His own body was entirely mark-free, both from his lack of close combat experience and the fact that his own family could afford an endless supply of bacta and other healing agents when he was young. He had never seen so many scars on a human before.
Ren scoffed lightly, lips quirking into a not-quite smile. “The dark side feeds on pain and rage. All of my scars are derived from my own foolish mistakes, and to deprive myself of the physical discomfort of healing would be to literally weaken my grasp of the Force.
“Hmm, how barbaric.” The insult came automatically, hardly requiring any conscious input.
Absentmindedly, Hux traced a jagged scar on the bone of Ren’s wrist where his sleeve had ridden up a bit. His other hand was still being held by Ren. It felt...maybe not _ good _ , exactly, but tolerable. Ren’s hands were large and warm and rough with calluses, so masculine that somehow the act of having his hand held like this didn’t feel effeminating like he expected.
His fingers followed the scar up the back of Kylo’s arm, pushing up his sleeve just a little bit more, but he paused when he heard Ren’s breathing catch. He was aware that scar tissue could be sensitive. Was this slight pressure actually hurting him?
When he looked up to gauge Ren’s reaction, however, he did not seem to be pained. His mouth was parted, just a bit, and his pupils were starting to dilate. Hux’s own breath caught in his throat, and his gaze fixated on Ren’s mouth when his tongue came out to wet his lips. | 8c4ef6f87a7a4dc894733748022a8940 | ['77fd1141c8d548beb00c1341beb82853'] | Everything looked the same through the gash in the durasteel floor. Up, down: it was all _ white, _ nothing but the flip flopping of his guts and the reeling of his vestibular system to tell him how many times they twisted and rolled through the fog, too many to keep track of. Too many to still be airborne.
As soon as it occurred to him, that _ shouldn’t they have hit the ground by now _ ...they did.
The fins below the _ Umbra _ ’s reinforced belly were violently shorn off as they absorbed the brunt of the impact, and while the landing was far from gentle, nothing more compromised the cockpit’s flooring or came crashing through the viewscreen. They rolled until Hux was dizzy, they razed a grove of shrubby little trees to the ground, but they _ survived _ .
“...You okay?” Kylo asked once the ship’s scraping came to a stop.
Hux took stock of his body parts, wiggling his toes and fingers to assess their condition — all intact and injury-free. “Yes, miraculously. And you?”
“Oh, I’m fine. Here,” he answered, and both restraints disengaged with a creak.
Hux gingerly rolled his neck around, checking for whiplash. “What happened?”
“Too busy feeling ahead for a safe landing spot. Flat land is rare in this region, and some areas are too unstable to land a starship...I was too distracted and didn’t notice that I got too close to one of those rocks.”
Stepping around the hole, Hux looked to the back of the ship, where the fin had taken out a good-sized chunk of the fresher as it went. And to think, he’d wanted to camp out in there until after they landed. Turning back to Kylo with a shudder, he asked, “How close are we to Snoke?”
“Fairly close. It’ll only be a few miles’ walk if we abandon the ship. We’ll just bring our things with us.”
“Well, at least I packed light. What about you though?”
Hux could see Kylo’s belongings flying around out of the corner of his eye. Presumably, that was Kylo’s doing as he checked for casualties.
Kylo shrugged. “I don’t really _ need _ all of it. Things like the incense burner I can — Oh...never mind, it’s broken anyways,” he answered with a dejected sigh.
Hux nodded, secretly grateful. He had a feeling Snoke’s home would be creepy enough without adding a pillar of ghost-infested meditation ashes to the mix.
While Kylo whisked the spilled ashes off of all their things and decided which were necessities, Hux stepped outside, taking in their surroundings with growing apprehension. The majority of the rock spires were behind them, jutting up from the ground like rows upon rows of teeth. Some predators had a constant supply of them that way, he remembered. They lost teeth all the damn time, replaceable as they were. How many apprentices had Snoke taken on and lost over the years, disposing of them like so much refuse? How replaceable was his current one? And how replaceable was he himself?
Turning his back on the worst of the rocky fangs, he paced back and forth, staring at his feet instead. The ground, damp as it was, looked soggy, but the carpeting of mossy plants actually made it quite springy under his feet.
They were peculiar, the plants. Here and there, round rosettes of waxy, greasy-looking leaves grew on any available surface, up to and including rocks and the stems of other plants, like some sort of blight. There were a handful of broad-bladed grasses and low, sprawling shrubs, but the majority of the groundcover consisted of near-continuous patches of curled, acaulescent little leaves. Apparently, the flora here only came in shades of grey and khaki, and everything was lumpy. All in all, they were tremendously ugly.
Speaking of ugly...Spotting an incongruous bit of whitish leather amongst the wreckage, Hux circled around the ship on a hunch and hopped down into the ditch left in the _ Umbra _ ’s wake. There, tangled up in the freshly exposed wiring — mynocks. A whole damn family of them, too. A mass of limbs and guts accounted for at least three by his estimate, not to mention the four intact ones with distended bellies, killed by the helium in the air.
“Oh, for Tarkin’s sake. No wonder we were so slow…”
Kicking a swollen corpse aside with a rush of vindictive glee, he rounded the ship once more, muttering about Petak’s lack of maintenance checks all the while. At least he had proof that the air here was deadly to the mynocks. He wouldn’t be responsible for bringing an invasive species to Eidolon, which would _ surely _ lead to his execution, if nothing else would.
Returning to his station beside the _ Umbra _ ’s open hatch, where an occasional swear or sound of frustration emanated from within, he leaned against the hull and settled in, eyes constantly scanning the horizon. The fog was thick enough to hide the majority of the landscape, masking their path to Snoke. In the distance, he could see wispy plumes of even more steam mingling with the miasma Hux desperately hoped Kylo had verified wasn’t toxic, considering how stifling it was. The atmosphere was unbearably soupy— hot, humid, thick. But oddly, it was _ silent. _ No wind, no rustling caused by animals scurrying around, no shrill insects’ calls cutting through the fog.
“Is this entire area devoid of life?” Hux called toward the ship. Maybe it wasn’t just the helium that killed the mynocks.
“Nah, everything’s nocturnal here,” Kylo called back. He came outside to join Hux, a stack of luggage floating behind him. “The sun’s too harsh and it’s too hot during the day.” |
c04197e10ee240739864b4b89367f39d | ['7802779622e742e3917a3452a77efaf0'] | “I didn’t expect it to happen like this, though. I wanted to confess at the end of camp, and it was going to be romantic as fuck, and I was going to _ tell _ you all of that without you seeing it, but my little sister called because I wasn’t home to tuck her in, and she asked me if I was leaving like dad did, and then it happened and you were there, and somehow you knew all the right things to do, and you actually get it, and I just-
There was a brief pause, and Kuroo’s eyes widened as he realized all he’d said.
“ _ Fuck _ . Sorry, I shouldn’t have- Shit. You, uh, don’t have to answer. Actually, please don’t. Just go back to practice, and I’ll stay here and drown in my own embarrassment and then tomorrow we can pretend nothing in the last two days happened, and it’ll be great.”
Tsukishima counted three breaths in the entire tirade, and he could feel the heat rushing up his neck to the tips of his ears. Kuroo was still determinedly not looking at him, his eyes still moving in a linear path along the ceiling crack. Kei studied him for a long, awkward moment, and then he did the unthinkable. He snorted. “You’re an idiot.”
Kuroo groaned in response, not bothering to speak as he flipped onto his stomach and buried his face between his pillows, and he tensed when Kei’s hand inevitably found its way into his raven bedhead. He glanced up, cautious.
““First of all, one in five teens struggles with some sort of mental illness. You’re not that different. Second-” Kei cleared his throat, cheeks flaming but holding his gaze, “Do you really believe that I am so altruistic that I would spend what precious little alone time I can get at these camps jumping blocks for you or bringing you lunch if I didn’t like you, _ Tetsurou _ ?”
Kuroo blinked once. Twice. Thrice. Then, slowly, an honest to god smile bloomed on his face, and it was something Kei had never seen before but was certainly something he could get lost in for hours. Then, with a sudden tug, Kuroo drew him tightly to his chest, all warmth and tenderness. Kei felt something warm drip on his ear. “Are you crying?”
“Not answering that,” Kuroo laughed, and he buried his face in Tsukishima’s hair. After a moment, he stilled. “Are you sure? After everything I said, is this really something-”
“I’m sure. Are you?”
“Absolutely.”
They stayed curled around each other in Tetsurou’s futon for the rest of the day with Tsukishima feigning a migraine to avoid the afternoon games. They talked about nothing and everything, and if Kei left a single plastic dinosaur in Kuroo’s care, no one else needed to know.
**Author's Note:**
> So... Truth be told, I've worked on this for months. I have OCD, but I have never had a panic attack; I've spent hours upon hours researching, so if I took a wrong turn anywhere or missed the mark, please let me know!
>
> I've thought about adding a second chapter of them in an established relationship, the first time Kuroo is there for Tsukki when he hits a bad spot, but I'm not decided. I don't want to do anything repetitive. | 93cf215bdfad49a1bddd6e525ca74d8d | ['7802779622e742e3917a3452a77efaf0'] |
more than words (is all you have to do to make it real)
“Sawamura, calm down. I can’t-”
_”Th-There was a-an… There was an acc-”_ A deep, shuddering breath stuttered over already crackling phone lines, and Eijun’s voice came through in a cluster of incomprehensible static. _“Therewasanaccidentandandandoniisanis-is-is-”_
“Sawamura,” Youichi tried again, his voice harsh as his brain tried to wrap around words like _accident_ and _Onii-san_. His too-small flat further shrank around him, rendering the air less and less sufficient as he fought to suppress the growing anxiety swelling in his chest. “What happened?”
_“Onii-san’s g-g-gone, and-”_
Kuramochi didn’t hear the scuffle on the other end of the phone; he didn’t feel his t-shirt ride up or the sandpaper-like texture of bare wall against his lower back as he sank to the ground. Even the acrid smell of his dinner burning on the stove went unnoticed as small tendrils of smoke issued from the sizzling pan. In the back of his mind, Haruichi’s sniffled, _“Eijun,”_ registered as heartbreaking, but he wouldn’t realize until later, as no sensation could drown out the one thought that conquered the rest: _Onii-san’s gone. Ryousuke’s gone. Ryou-san is gone. Gone. gone. gone gone gone gone gone_
_“-chi senpai.”_ A pause. _“Kuramochi-senpai,”_ Haruichi’s voice became more urgent, more pleading, and Youichi’s fingers tightened around the phone. _“He’s not that kind of gone. He’s missing. Have you heard from him?”_
“I- What? Haruichi, what the hell is going on?”
A shaky breath. Another shuffle. Quiet whispers of reassurance in Furuya’s level voice, meant only for the little Kominato’s ears. Finally, a voice he’d never been so happy to hear filled the line with none of its usual mirth. _“Kuramochi.”_
“Miyuki.” Youichi’s head spun, his eyes slammed tight to aid in his mental war against the bile rising in his throat. His voice was scratchy when he spoke. “What the fuck happened?”
_“Everything’s okay,”_ came the immediate response, Miyuki’s calm amidst the chaos providing a balm to the edges of Youichi’s frayed conscious. _“Ryousuke got hit by a car, but he’s okay. Or at least we can assume, if he’s being stubborn enough to disappear from the hospital. Even he’s not that reckless.”_
“Fuck.” Youichi released the breath he’d been holding, his shaking hand rising to rest against his sweaty forehead. “Why did you let Sawamura call me? I thought- It sounded like he was-”
_“I was talking to nurses to see if I could figue out when he left. I didn’t realize that moron would do anything in the five minutes I was gone.”_
“Was he hurt? How long has he been gone? Where was he last seen? Why didn’t he-”
A series of things happened very quickly, and Kuramochi suddenly remembered his apartment; he could feel the textured wall pressing painfully into his back and see the small flame dancing in the pan on the stove, but more than anything, he heard the faint tap of knuckles against his door, the rhythmic beat of four intimately familiar and so _his._
“He’s here. I’ve gotta go. I’ll- I’ll text you.”
His phone clattered to the floor, and he paused long enough to dump an entire bag of flour into the smoking pan, not bothering to verify the absence of flames before he darted for the door. He barely felt the cool knob brush against his palm before throwing the door open with a force that would inevitably dent the wall and launching his arms around the shorter, pink-haired man in front of him, taking no notice of the gash across his cheek or the crutches bearing most of his weight. He only noticed _him_ , with that deceptive smile and his old Seido jersey and an aura of determination that stretched as far as the eye could see, and he never wanted to let go again. “Ryousuke.”
A soft grunt at his force was the first sign of something wrong, but before he could pull away, before he could assess the look in Ryousuke’s eyes or the way his lips quirked downward, a hand snaked up his side, powerful fingers gripping his back with bruising intensity, and a cool, sweaty forehead burrowed against his collarbone, dusting the skin above his heart with shaky, too-short breaths. “Youichi.”
“You’re okay,” he whispered, pressing gentle kisses into the mop of pink, unsure of whether he was trying to convince Ryousuke or himself. “You’re okay. _You’re okay._ You’re- Shit, Ryou-san, you’re shaking.”
“I’m okay,” his partner echoed with a paper-thin smile, his features slowly schooling themselves back into the relaxed gaze and patient smile that hid everything from everyone but had ceased to work on Youichi years ago. “It’s rude to leave guests standing in the hallway.”
It took another moment for Youichi to loosen his grip, to finally pull away and face whatever reality might stand in front of him. When he did, it took only seconds to take it all in: a shoulder encased in a malleable black brace; creased eyebrows and the beginnings of bags under already puffy eyes; six small, black stitches protruding from his right cheek; coarse brown specks of dried blood dotting the front of a now tattered jersey; and an almost waist-high cast on a foot barely brushing the ground.
“You’ve never asked permission to come in before,” he answered petulantly, but he quickly stepped aside to create a path for Ryousuke to hobble through, eventually watching him walk, wanting to help but not knowing how. He finally settled for a hand on his lower back, not enough to really help, but enough to convince himself that his person was really there, inches away and very much alive.
It wasn’t until he’d followed him all the way to the couch that Ryousuke’s eyes turned on him. “Mochi, I’m fine. I’m more worried about your apartment. Were you trying to burn it down?”
“I thought you were dead.”
A small laugh bubbled from Ryousuke’s lips. “What?” |
f6b85b662a10453b90cc5a0c2142ff4a | ['78284cdf6bc34417825ecaaa8a26b0dd'] | “Half a year, jerk!” She says, slapping you on your arm, but she’s smiling and laughing and she invites you to go over to her house because her dad is waiting outside and you tell her you had nothing else to do so why shouldn’t you.
You think you both know that even if you did, you would have gone with her in a heartbeat.
* * *
You’re 17 and heartbroken when you realize that you are, in fact, in love with Laura.
You’re sitting with your back to her door and your head in your knees and you don’t bother knocking, because you don’t know if you’d want her to see you like this in the first place.
You think that Ell broke you beyond repair. You think you’re getting too big for the stuffy closet Mother had forced you in when she caught you. You think you’d never seen her angrier.
It hadn’t been your idea to steal your mother’s shit. But Ell, shy and soft on the outside, _loved_ to push you.
You’d known what would happen if you stole wine from your mother, but Ell saw it as romantic, and you would have done anything for her.
And when you were caught and you were being screamed at, being told what a fucking deadbeat you were, how she knew you were going to end up like this, you’d hoped that after all this you would still have Ell.
Ell was a thunderstorm in the guise of a sunny day and you’d made the stupid decision of not thinking to bring an umbrella. She broke your heart in a way that left you dumbfounded and in turn you told her to go fuck herself and ran away.
It was messy, painful, and you had been planning to run away with her. To leave this town and your other behind and never look back.
Except there was Laura. Laura who’d always been the cause of so many fights between you and Ell because _please she so_ obviously _has feelings for you._
Maybe it was better like this. You couldn’t stomach the thought of leaving Laura behind. Still, it felt like someone had punched you in the gut.
You were completely lost in thought when the door that you were sitting against slowly creaked open, causing you to jump up and slowly wipe at the tear tracks that were undoubtedly on your face.
You turn around and there was Laura and she looks so concerned and so lovely and you feel your body moving towards her and you grab her, pulling her in and sobbing against her shoulder.
She gasps softly before wrapping her arms around you in turn, and you both stand there for a few minutes, you clinging tightly to her back and crying quietly.
After a little while she softly pushes you back, her arms never leaving your shoulders, and asks you if you’d like to come inside, and you just nod slightly, unsure of whether or not you could actually speak.
When you don’t move she grabs your arm and tugs you to the small couch in her living room, and you sit there with her, laying your head on her shoulder and closing your eyes.
You’re close to dozing off while her hands softly stroke your hair when it hits you that Ell was right in a way, and the thought terrifies you so much that you are suddenly wide awake.
You think you’ve felt this way for a while now, maybe even since you were 8 years old and hiding from your teacher.
Laura notices of course, and she tightens her hold on you which is _not_ helping, but you can’t help but sink back into her.
And as you fall asleep you think that you cannot lose Laura because of this, that she is your best friend and that your sudden revelation needs to be kept under wraps.
Because you are in love with Laura Hollis, and when you love something it always goes wrong.
In the morning, you wake up alone. There’s a cookie placed on the table in front of you.
* * *
Laura is like the sun, you think, which is entirely too cliché but it’s so true.
She is brilliant and stunning and if you stare too long you could end up being blinded by her light.
And if she is the sun then you are the moon, entirely dependent on the way she shines. You have been for a while now, but you haven’t realized it.
You’ve been focused on yourself and wallowing in your self-pity and hatred and you hadn’t realized that the world didn’t revolve around you like it did Laura.
* * *
Laura, age 21, gets her first _serious_ girlfriend. And she calls _you_ the ladykiller.
You’ve never been a jealous person. You’ve handled all of Laura’s girlfriends with a substantial amount of amiability, though you could see why none of them really understood why Laura would hang out with the leather-clad, no-good likes of you. You kind of shared their confusion. The kind of girls that Laura dated were nothing like you (Not that you’d been comparing yourself), all of them bubbly and supportive and so _good_ that while you did your best to keep it from effecting you, it did hurt a little bit. But for the most part, you were great at playing the part of childhood best friend.
Until Danny came around.
Danny was tall and ginger and played any and every sport you could think of and you hated her.
Maybe it was because Laura seemed so much more into her than she was the other girls, or maybe it was because she was so blatant about disliking you. | ac7148038f024584a32483a7e74416aa | ['78284cdf6bc34417825ecaaa8a26b0dd'] | You were nice at first, but she took one look at you and decided you were no good for Laura. She never said it out loud, but you knew she thought it, and you knew that she wished Laura would soon realize that.
(Sometimes you liked to entertain the idea that she was wrong.)
You refused to let Danny be the one who caused you and Laura to drift apart so whenever she was around, you made sure to be extra affectionate.
She would walk in and be greeted by you with your hand slung over Laura’s shoulder, or she would be watching a movie with Laura snuggled up beside her and you would lay your head on Laura’s arm. You took pride in the small victories, and you knew your friendship with Laura was getting on her nerves. It was delightful.
And maybe be just a bit petty, but who cared really? Laura hadn’t seemed to notice.
Besides, you couldn’t be over at Laura’s apartment all the time, so you were sure there were times where Danny was blissfully without your obnoxious presence.
Unfortunately, it eventually reached a breaking point.
Laura had invited you over to make cookies, and failed to mention the fact that the world’s biggest carrot on stilts would also be attending.
You were mad.
And kind of really sad, but then again, you couldn’t show either because Laura did not need to know that it affected you this much.
It’s just that, cookies were _your_ thing with Laura.
You almost slapped yourself for being so damn sensitive.
Danny was Laura’s girlfriend. You knew this. Of course she’d want to make cookies with her girlfriend. Totally reasonable and not a stab to the chest.
You swallow hard when Laura taps your shoulder and look over to her, trying to look relaxed.
“Carm, you okay? You’ve been like, pretty much silent this entire time.”
You smile stiffly and nod. “Yeah, cupcake. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”
You look over Laura’s shoulder and see Danny give you a glare for the _pretty head_ comment, and your smirk grows impossibly wide.
Laura, bless her, is still completely oblivious, and still giving you a concerned look.
“You wanna lick the cookie dough off the spoon?” She says, shoving the spoon at you and you can’t help but smile.
“Nah, creampuff, that’s always been your job.” You try not to put too much emphasis on _always,_ but you couldn’t help but flaunt the fact that she’d done this with you enough for there to be an _always._ You also tried not to notice how adorable Laura looks when she smiles at you and sticks the spoon in her mouth.
You were so screwed.
You were lost in how incredibly fucked you were and didn’t see Laura look between you and Danny, obviously scheming.
Suddenly she piped up, practically banging the wooden spoon on the counter and smiling wide. “You know, I think I’m gonna place these puppies in the oven, Carm, you and Danny can go wait by the couch and get to know each other a bit better!”
You were about to protest with something along the lines of _Don’t you need help with the oven, cupcake? Wouldn’t want you to burn yourself._ When she gives you “the face” and you know there’s no arguing.
So you try and stifle your grown and slump down onto the couch, Danny reluctantly following and sitting as far away from you as possible. Both of you lingered in silence for a bit as you wondered why it took so long to put a pan into an oven.
After about five minutes Danny turns to you, a scowl on her face. “I’m going to be honest. I don’t like you.”
You scoff. “Shame. Here I was, about to suggest a threesome.”
Her scowl deepened somehow. “Can you just say something normal for once?”
“You don’t know me. For all you know, I could say normal things all the time while you’re not around.”
Danny let out a frustrated groan, shooting up from the couch and walking away just as Laura began to enter. She paused to turn to Laura, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Laur, I like you, but sometimes I question the company you keep.” Was all she said before storming out, the door slamming behind her.
“Sheesh,” You muttered, leaning into the couch cushion.
“She has a point, in a way.” Laura sits next to you, obviously trying to contain her distress before continuing. “You could be a bit nicer, Carm. You know I like you the way you are but general apathy towards… everything doesn’t tend to give off the best vibe.”
“It’s not like she’s trying any harder.” Is all you say and when Laura shoots you a look you throw your hands up. “The walking carrot stick decided from the moment she laid eyes on me I was bad news. I’m not going to try and be all buddy buddy towards someone who thinks I’m not good enough for my own fucking best friend.”
“I’m just saying Carm, you don’t have to be so _awful_ towards everyone all the time! Can you please just be a nice person.” You know she regrets it as soon as it’s out of her mouth but it doesn’t help the way your stomach sinks.
You shove yourself off the couch, beginning to stalk through the kitchen and to Laura’s front door, and halfway there you feel her hand on your shoulder.
“Carmilla. I didn’t mean it like that.”
You turned around stiffly, looking her in the eyes. “Then how did you mean it, cupcake?” You hated the way sarcasm dripped through your tone, as if Laura was some random person who’d made a shitty comment about you. This was _Laura_ , Laura who always shared her cookies with you, Laura with the smile that could take down a deity. And that made it hurt more, in a way. |
64d8e4d742104ab49563ba394a3e76f8 | ['782d9bd13f9746ec900e40fe2ec98be1'] | “No.” Smaug immediately stated upon seeing the Hobbit looking at him. “No, you are not going to speak to Thorin Oakenshield. You wanted to see him, you wanted to know if he was without Gold Sickness, and you have. Now you will have no contact with that monster, understand?” Bilbo's shoulder drooped and he looked down at the floor, like a reprimanded child, but he nodded. He knew they were concerned for him, but the urge to speak to Thorin, to help the Dwarf King, did not leave his mind.
He never hated Thorin. Not once, not through the whole thing. He knew it wasn't Thorin doing those things to him. He knew it wasn't his Dwarf King that tortured him. It was the Gold Craze clouding his mind that committed those acts. The knowledge did not make Bilbo fear Thorin less, but it did make him sad for Thorin. It wasn't the rational, good Dwarf's fault that his family's sickness twisted his mind. He could not be held completely responsible for his actions.
When everyone had retired to their rooms and the sun had long since slipped away, Bilbo laid awake. Smaug slept next to him, close, but never touching. He did not want to push Bilbo, and for that the Hobbit was grateful. Smaug had been so caring and loving through all of this. Bilbo felt bad that he would be breaking a promise to his Soul Mate, but he knew what he had to do. He slid from his bed, not waking Smaug even a bit, and crept from his room. The only Elves awake were guards who smiled back at him when he smiled. None were suspicious of his destination or his intentions. They simply saw the lovely Hobbit who was sweet and smart.
Bilbo could tell when he got to the quarters the Dwarves were sleeping in. There were no Elves posted here. The Dwarves would not hear of it. It made it easier for him to sneak around without the ever present eyes of the Elf Guards, but at the same time it made him fear a bit. If Thorin were to revert back to his Madness, would any of the Dwarves hear him? Would they come to his aid? Or would the far away Elf Guards hear his screams?
He did not know exactly which door Thorin resided behind. But there was only one door with a band of light at the bottom, announcing that the resident was still awake. And Bilbo could only guess the only Dwarf awake at this time of night would be the guilt ridden Dwarf King. He stood in front of the door for a very long moment, considering whether or not he should knock or just walk in. Knocking would be polite, but given the past between the two, he didn't feel Thorin would care. Eventually he gathered his courage and turned the knob, holding his breath. Thorin was sitting in an armchair, facing away from the door and towards the still raging fire. He didn't even move when he heard the door open, but Bilbo knew he was awake.
“Go away.” He rumbled, his voice darker and more haunted than Bilbo ever remembered it being before. He had to press his hand to him mouth to keep from gasping out a sob at the sound of Thorin's voice. Memories of his voice twisted into cruel words and harsh exclamations filled his head and he thought he might be sick for a moment. So many thoughts threatened to tear him apart, but before they could he remembered Rochella and her teachings and it soothed the raging storm of memories and he was able to breath again. “I said go-” Thorin had stood and turned to the door, only to stop mid sentence when his eyes saw his visitor.
Bilbo had his hand pressed to his mouth, and his other hand on the knob of the door still. Tears were streaming from his eyes and his shoulder shook lightly with his silent sobs, but beyond that he looked healthy. He was round and pale, like he'd been at the start of their journey. His golden curls were clean and they shined in the light of the fire. He was wearing Hobbit clothes, though they were obviously of Elvish make. As Thorin looked in his eyes he realized that Bilbo was torn between standing there and running as fast and as far as he could.
“Bilbo...” Thorin breathed, all his heartbreak and guilt pouring out in that one word. He saw Bilbo's gasp and the shaking of his shoulders worsened. “You are here.” The Dwarf King made no move to approach Bilbo. He did not want to scare the Hobbit away, especially because he had too much he wanted to say and this would probably be his only chance. It surprised him when Bilbo was the one who straightened and wiped away his tears and slowly closed the door behind himself. He gingerly walked to the other chair that sat before the fire, giving Thorin a wide berth as he did so, and gestured for the Dwarf King to sit first. Thorin made no objections, dropping like a stone at Bilbo's bidding and watching his Hobbit closely as he slowly sat.
“Hello Thorin.” Bilbo spoke at last, his voice cracking at the very end. Thorin felt his heart jump to his throat at his name passing on Bilbo's tongue. How he loved that voice, that clever little voice that had saved them from Trolls and Smaug and destruction at the hands of Men and Elves. And now Thorin felt it saving him again. In two words he could already feel his soul lightening. Bilbo was here. He was safe and alive and healthy and speaking to him. He was not screaming at him or cowering from him, he was sitting across from him and speaking to him! | f59182d0c1874525ab1742e08604a150 | ['782d9bd13f9746ec900e40fe2ec98be1'] | “Thank you.” The female nurse chimes when I push the papers back towards her. “I’m Celty. I’ll be here every night from six p.m. to six a.m. with Simon and Egor. In the daytime you’ll have Kadota, Chikage, and Tom as your nurses. And it looks like you’ll be seeing Dr. Shiki. Do you have any questions about any of that?”
“No.”
“Alright. Would you like to shower before you go to bed?”
“No, thanks.” I’m too exhausted to imagine keeping my balance in a shower right now.
“Okay. The clothes you brought with you are already in your room if you’d like to change. Are there any other questions I can answer for you?” When I shake my head, Celty gestures to get Simon’s attention.
“Ah, is time for bed?” He proposes. Celty nods, and Simon comes back through the doorway separating the nurses station from the hallway. “This way to your room.” He encourages with another one of those ridiculously big smiles.
“Sleep well.” Celty tells me, waiting until I’ve stood to follow Simon before she starts sorting my paperwork.
Simon takes me halfway back down the hall before stopping at an open door. My roommate is dead asleep on the bed closest to the doorway, curled up so only a few tufts of brown hair are visible from under his blanket. Simon makes a shushing motion to me, and I nod. He pats my shoulder and ambles back to the nurses station.
I change in the bathroom, not even glancing at myself in the mirror. I’m sure I look like crap. I’d prefer to worry about that in the morning. Or well, in about four and a half hours when I’m woken up. I sigh to myself.
The bed I crawl into isn’t super comfortable. But honestly it could be a rock and I’d probably still be out within a few minutes. With a mattress and pillow beneath me, it barely takes sixty seconds before I’m starting to nod off.
Between one blink and the next, I’m asleep.
2. Day 1
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> They say to start with your best foot forward. Izaya is better at starting with his best fail forward.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I am back! With a longer chapter! and tons of introductions!
> Quick side note though, i do in fact know that Kadota does not have dreadlocks in the show. i also do not, in fact, care. He has dreads in this. it's sexy. get off my dick.
> Enjoy!
Day 1
“No freaking way! What are the odds!” I’m jerked awake not by a nurse, but by the overly excited yelling of my roommate- which does no favors to the headache brewing at the back of my skull.
I crack my eyes open, cringing at how raw they feel. Like sand has been rubbing between my lid and my eyeball all night. It leaves me squinting at the eager face sitting up in bed across from me. An eager face that I think I actually recognize. What the hell?
“Shinra?” I mumble. His grin grows.
“You remember me? I’m flattered!” He’s just as dramatic as he used to be. I consider turning over in bed and ignoring him, but then someone passes by and knocks loudly on our open door.
“Rise and shine ladies and gents! Rise and shine for vitals!” He shouts the chant as he passes, and continues it as he walks further down the hall.
“He does that every morning. Hey, come on, it’s better to get out there as soon as possible. Vitals take forever otherwise.” Shinra encourages me, slipping from his bed and pulling on a pair of socks from his nightstand. When he finishes hopping around from foot to foot- even though there’s a stable bed literally right behind him he could have used- he looks back towards me and frowns. “Come on Izaya.”
“Don’t wanna.” I sigh. He rolls his eyes.
“Nobody wants to, but we gotta. So come on.” He bounces impatiently on his feet until I begrudgingly force myself out of bed. My body feels like wet cement. Gross.
Shinra grabs my hand and totes me out of the room, letting go the second we’re in line of sight of the pair of nurses outside the station. There’s two other patients already lined up that Shinra slips in behind. I follow after him benignly.
“Morning, sleeping beauty.” I flick my eyes up to see who the subject of such ridicule is. And then I notice that everyone’s eyes are on me, and the nurse I didn’t notice standing beside me. He smiles warmly, his hands tucked casually in the pockets of his green scrubs.
I’ve seen a lot of nurses in my life. This is the first one to have straight up dreadlocks. He looks pretty badass. Which I would definitely appreciate more if I didn’t feel like death warmed over right now.
“Morning Dotachin!” Shinra is way too loud, considering the man is less than two feet from him. I cringe. So does the nurse.
“Inside voice, Shinra.” He sounds resigned even as he admonishes the bespectacled boy. “I’m Kadota, one of your daytime nurses.” He’s turned his attention back to me. I nod stiffly. “Not a morning person I gather?”
“Normally I am.” I admit somewhat bitterly.
“You didn’t get onto the ward until pretty late last night, right?” I nod again. “I’m sure we can fit in a nap for you after breakfast then.”
“Izaya likes naps!” Shinra exclaims again. “You would take two or sometimes three if you could get away with it!” Here he snickers, like I’m some mad genius for being able to take naps.
“You’ve met before?” Kadota asks, one of his dark eyebrows quirking. |
f9a97d5cad874a248d0070380431b483 | ['783a71af4c1d4179b64ddc7ba745656d'] |
Blanket of Comfort
**Author's Note:**
> Written quickly on my lunch break, please excuse any mistakes.
“Oh my god, Simon. What are we going to do?” Izzy asks standing at a loss in the middle of their apartment near tears. The cries coming from the back bedroom seem to fill the entire space, leaving little room for other conversations or even private thoughts.
“I- I don’t know. We’ve fed him, changed him, rocked him. I even played the guitar and sang for him. And he cried louder! Honestly I’m slightly insulted. I mean, not to toot my own horn hear, but I always draw a crowd at Hunters Moon so I think I can handle a simple lullaby lik-“
“Simon!! Focus. Do you have any other ideas? What could we be forgetting? Did we do something specifically that would’ve upset him? Or does he just hate us? Oh my god, what if he just _ hates us _?!” Now Izzy does sob, sinking to the couch and crying into her hands.
Simon darts over to her, kneeling down. “Come on Izzy, don’t cry. The baby is doing plenty of that for everyone.” He jokes trying to make her laugh. Izzy just huffs. “Besides I’m a vampire and you are a Shadowhunter, and yes it’s a little unnerving that we’re currently being bested by an infant, but we’ve dealt with worse. I have faith that we can get through this too.”
Izzy looks up at him, eyes bloodshot and sniffling. “I told you I would be bad at this,” she says trying to mask the anguish she’s feeling. “I don’t have much baby experience and I should have known I wasn’t ready for this.”
“Hey,” Simon sighs out cradling her face in his hands, “You are doing fantastic. You had him laughing so hard earlier. I’ve never seen him smile that big. And I took pictures as proof.”
Izzy laughs, just a little bit, before it quickly falls to a frown. “Simon, we need help. I know I said we could handle this on our own. But he’s been crying for over an hour and won’t sleep. That’s can’t be good, right?”
“You now they won’t mind if we ask for help. They said so themselves.”
Izzy slumps in defeat and grabs her phone that’s sitting on the end table. She quickly types a message and tosses her phone down on the couch. “Ugh. I feel like such a failure. I should be able to handle this.”
Simon climbs up to sit next to her wrapping his arms around her and nudges his nose to her cheek before placing a gentle kiss there. “Isabelle, you are the most amazing person I know but asking for help doesn’t make you a failure.” He then places another kiss to her temple. She turns to kiss him fully on the mouth letting Simon’s presence permeate her anxiety and replace it with calm. The sound of a portal opening and conversation coming through it causes her to draw back from Simon and look over her shoulder.
“...I mean honestly Magnus, you conjured half his bedroom into their apartment, and you still managed to forget his blanket?”
“Hey! I was _ distracted _.”
“By what?”
“_ You _, darling.”
“I was just getting dressed!” Alec says exasperated.
“Exactly!” Magnus teases back with undisguised lust in his eyes.
They are fully standing in Izzy and Simon’s apartment now and the portal closes as Alec rolls his eyes, “You’re impossible.”
Izzy rises from the couch, walks to her brother and hugs him. “I’m so sorry to interrupt your date. I didn’t want to bother you but Max has been crying for over an hour and I think he hates us!”
Alec laughs a little as his sister’s fear but hugs her back. “He doesn’t hate you. And you didn’t interrupt. We were just taking a stroll down the Seine when you text.”
“And the reason he’s crying is because I forgot his favorite blanket.” Magnus says as he holds up small plush navy, white and gray chevron blanket. “He can’t sleep without it. I’m so sorry we left it behind and caused you this unnecessary stress.”
“Yeah, don’t worry Iz, Max will always love his Aunt Izzy” he flicks his eyes to Izzy’s vampire boyfriend also standing there “...and Uncle Simon.”
Simon beams brighter than the sun.
“You’re sure?” Izzy questions, afraid to believe that the blanket’s absence was at fault and not her.
“Positive.” Alec reassures her with a quick peck on her forehead.
“Okay, Give me that.” she demands and grabs the blanket from Magnus. “Now shoo! Get back to France and don’t come back until tomorrow afternoon.”
Magnus and Alec chuckle.
“Okay, Okay.” Alec says hands up defeat. “But we might just steal a quick kiss from him before we leave.”
They follow Izzy back to the bedroom to find the still crying Max in his crib. Izzy walks over, picks up the chubby blue baby and shows him his blanket.
“Look what we have Maxie!”
His pudgy fingers grab for the well loved fabric. He buries his face in it and snuggles into the crook of Izzy’s neck. From the doorway, Alec and Magnus watch with content smiles.
Max instantly sets in Izzy’s arms. She sways back and forth a minute ensuring he is asleep. Before she places him back into his crib, his dads approach.
“Goodnight Blueberry” Magnus whispers, kissing his dark curls before leaving the room.
“Night my little terror.” Alec says affectionately bending to place his own kiss near the stubby horns among the unruly hair. He then gives Izzy another reassuring kiss on her forehead before exiting the room to join his husband. | 59f983d5c39e4b13ab2ac47a1de4d2c4 | ['783a71af4c1d4179b64ddc7ba745656d'] | “I don’t know.” Luke gestures with his hands, “It’s just that even ten years later, it’s still _ Alec and Magnus _ and _ Magnus and Alec _. It’s hard to talk about one of you without referencing the other. You guys were always a package deal, attached at the hip, two peas in a pod and all that cliche stuff. Don’t get me wrong, Dot is a wonderful woman and if marrying her makes you happy, then you have my unwavering support, kiddo. But I do have to agree with you, I think you and Alec aren’t finished with each other yet. Call it an old man’s hunch.”
Magnus’ shock at Luke’s frankness must show because Luke adds, “But like I said, I’m an old man. What do I know?”
“As far as I’m concerned, you know quite a bit.” He looks away from Luke’s reflection again to watch Raphael at work, a few moments of silences passes. “What do you suggest I do? Should I keep trying to contact him? Because even though he might hate me, I really want a chance to talk. I want to give him a better explanation of why I did what I did all those years ago. I just want him to give me a few minutes of his time so we can get all of this out in the open. So we can move onward and forward. Am I wrong to want that?”
“There is nothing wrong with wanting closure, kiddo. But is that what you’re really wanting here? Or do you just want to see him again? Have an excuse to talk to him again?”
Magnus drops his eyes to watch Raphael measure his leg length; afraid to meet Luke’s expectant stare and unwilling to answer the question.
* * *
Magnus hunches over his phone, staring at the still unanswered text he sent Alec. It’s not his first attempt to contact his ex. Any weekend he’s in town, Magnus has sent a text asking to meet with Alec, to have that discussion they never got to have. The first time, Magnus was optimistic. But after a second attempt and now a third, the replying silence was really starting to grate his nerves. Regardless of what Luke insinuated, Magnus truly does want to find some closure for them. He vowed to do that in person, like mature adults. He doesn’t want their last interaction to be what transpired on that field. Even Dot, who doesn’t like the idea, concedes that concluding business between them is best done in person. He can’t let things end in a fight like last time. An amiable, if only tolerable, talk between the two men was the most reasonable plan. But doing required Alec to be in the same room as him. That thought alone kicked up Magnus’ heart rate a bit.
“Oh my god. Magnus you nail polish is _ chipped _.”
Clary slides into the seat at the table next to him pulling him from his thoughts and giving him an incredulous look. He catches sight of his hands and examines his nails. She’s right, the navy blue lacquer is cracked and flaking. Something Magnus would normally never tolerate. Clary grabs one of his hands in hers to better examine his messy manicure, “Your nail polish is never chipped, unless you’re majorly stressing out.”
“I think planning a wedding in six weeks is cause for a little stress, don’t you Biscuit? Surely you can forgive my less than perfect appearance?”
Clary frees his hand, “You’re right. Everyone is running around to make this happen, especially you and Dot. But you need a break. You look exhausted and I feel like I catch you staring into space more often than not these days.”
Magnus simply shrugs unwilling to deny her claim, still looking down at his hands and picking at the edge of the polish on his left ring finger. Little bits of blue fall to the table.
Clary squeezes his shoulder, “I have the perfect idea to get your mind off all of this wedding stuff for awhile. Retail therapy.”
Magnus looks at her not even trying to hide his skepticism.
“Oh come on! I finally got around to Googling the address for that furniture company we liked at the festival last month. The same one Jace said provided furnishings for the store. Broken Arrow Company? Remember. It’s just in the next town over, about 35 minutes away. I think everyone can spare you for the afternoon.”
“I don’t know, I really should be working.” His computer on the table next to him sits with tabs open to their music selection list, the order form for their wedding favors, his email thread with his travel agent about their honeymoon and his design program open with work for RUNEZ waiting for his attention as well. He stares at the screen for a second. He blinks rapidly for a second. The words are fuzzy. He holds up his phone and sees his unanswered text to Alec before sighing in defeat. “You might be right, darling. I think I need a few minutes away. And I have been meaning to check out this place. Just another thing on my To Do List that’s been lost in the shuffle this month.”
“Well, let’s fix that today. But first, we’re going for manis and pedis. Maia already recommended me a place. Because Magnus without a perfect manicure stresses me out.”
* * *
By the time they leave the plantation, treat themselves at the salon and get in the car to head to Cooperstown, dusk is approaching. Their drive was mostly quiet, the two friends content to enjoy comfortable silence and country scenery.
Now, the pair stand in the crowded parking lot of Broken Arrow Company, gawking slightly at the building in front of them. |
0d62b78950f64c4e8d2b326bc5b9611d | ['785dc00de5aa4c3eac7d56933a7f8785'] | Who in the fuck talks like that? I wanted to laugh, I wanted to hit him, I wanted to lay my head on the table and sleep. "Happy enough when the monthly payments covered the booze," I said. "Not so happy later in the month. Oh, no, she- she never touched me, never hit me, she just used words." Vile words, poisonous words, heard them in my darkest moments and felt, at the same time happy to frothing and guilty as hell that she was dead. "Just words. But they hurt all the same. You know?"
"Yes," he said, voice distant, and even my broken, cynical ass believed him. Believed him as sure as if the Avatar his own damn self (or her; hell if I knew. I didn't keep up) had declared it to me.
I drained my tea, wished it was stronger, and sounded gruff as I knew how when I said, "C'mon, tit for tat; that was my story, what's yours?"
He watched me; I couldn't see his eyes, but even with the mask half turned away, I felt them on me. "I came to this city," he said, "to make a difference."
"Oh, you're a dreamer. What difference are you gonna make, Sifu Amon?"
"You're not ready yet," he said.
I could feel the anger boiling up in me, the disappointment, the strange sense of betrayal.
He must have seen it on my face, because he went on, "Before I came here, I travelled. I saw the breadth and the width of the world, from Ba Sing Se, to the far cliffs of the Fire Nation. From Whale Tail island, to the Northern Air Temple. I have been to the Poles, Omashu and Kyoshi Island-"
"What's your point?" I said, sounding more tired than I was. Places I'd never been, places I'd never go.
"Before all that," he said, "I lost someone I loved. Before all that, I was scarred. That was twenty years ago."
I felt my brows draw together, absorbing this, the most information Amon had given me. "You've worn a mask ever since?"
His hand raised briefly, as if to reach for the pale porcelain, then settled on the table again. "Yes." He finally turned to face me properly again. "I'm sorry, I must be keeping you awake."
I snapped to, realised I'd been staring, and shot to my feet. "No, that- sorry. Yes, of course, you must be tired."
He stood as well, moving sedately, gracefully, and I had to force myself to turn away, grabbing our cups - mine empty, his half-full of quickly cooling tea - and moving them to the kitchen. I could at least pretend to be civilised.
I turned back, looked for my guest.
I had two windows in that dump, my bedroom facing brick wall, the other facing a danky street that made the bricks preferable by far. Amon stood before it now, silhouetted in harsh neon light. My mouth felt dry, my tongue thick. "I'll find you some blankets," I said, stammered. Hell, I'd rip the blankets off my own bed and offer them to him.
"I can just share yours," he said.
It took me a second, a heartbeat of thinking I'd just heard an idle thought in my own head, before I stopped up short and stared at him.
"Share," I said, finally. It was a question without a lilt.
"So you heard me," he said and moved away from the window, settling his body into deep shadow but for that white, white mask. It almost seemed to float, there in the darkness, and I took a hesitant step towards him.
I was never a man to indulge, and the options were barely there anyway. Spent old ladies in stained dresses, desperate young men with groping hands and baggy eyes, clots of white at the corners of their mouths. Everyone was looking for something, and it wasn't worth the trouble.
But Amon flowed from the shadows like midnight made solid, and his voice was electricity on my spine. I moved to the darkness and grabbed him, almost startled when he was actually there to hold. And his hands were everywhere, strong and clever and brushing over my skin before I realised my clothes were even being pushed aside.
Who was this damn man?
"What'll it take," I growled, my hands tightening on his biceps with bruising force, "to convince you to lose that mask?"
"You can't," he said, and then his hand was down my trousers, and the mask suddenly didn't seem so important any longer.
I shoved him against the wall - or he let me, or he fell back himself, I wasn't sure - and grazed my teeth over that teasing, almost-concealed jaw. Tasted sweat and smoke and the invisible stubble of a long day.
His hand twisted, and I strangled back a moan. "Your blankets," he said, his voice so low, so aching, that my skin tickled.
We stumbled through the doorway, onto my bed, and when he froze at the ominous creak of the frame, I just pushed him back, tore at his clothes. Those slim hands, stronger than they looked, clamped around my wrists and stopped me.
"Don't rush," he said, and his voice was a low growl that made my skin feel tight and hot. "We have all night."
I slowed down, let myself take my time. This wasn't a quick, desperate rut in some dark corner; this was my bed, my apartment and Amon was right, the night was ahead of us still. I sure as hell didn't have a job to get to in the morning. | 27aaca1337b84a68af3d10a81ba579cb | ['785dc00de5aa4c3eac7d56933a7f8785'] | It was like something out of a fairytale; something Noatak had heard of, but never seen, something he hadn't even believed was real. At least, he supposed, he wasn't twisting in the saddle like a bumpkin to take everything in, unlike certain little brothers.
"Sit down!" he snapped over his shoulder.
"Aww," Tarrlok muttered, and Noatak could hear the pout, but he settled back down in the saddle.
Eventually, however, the ornate buildings gave way to a vast plaza, and if what they had seen before could keep the village for months, what spread before them now could have ensured that no one back home would ever have to hunger again. Noatak felt his jaw drop. Everywhere was not only food - they even had turtleseals lying in rows, butchers digging into the meat, carving off slices and offering it up - but boats on massive racks for display, skins in great piles, ready-made clothes, jewelry, jars, furniture...
It was more wealth than Noatak had known existed. But, with unerring precision, he found his eyes drawn to the edges of the plaza, past the booths, where thin, dirty children looked hungrily at seaweed laid out to dry; old men with no arms or legs, and burn scars covering their visible skin, held out pleading hands to passer-bys. Nearby, in a stall where a finely garbed woman hawked woven rugs, behind her sat another woman, hunched and in rags at a loom, and Noatak's senses tingled at the redness of her hands; she'd woven her hands bloody.
He swallowed the lump in his throat, forced himself to look away. What was he supposed to do? He was teenage boy, just as poor and starving as any of the ones stalking the edges of the market, and if not for Iqniq, he and Tarrlok would easily have passed as a pair of street children themselves.
But it was the Avatar's duty to _help_.
"Noatak?" Tarrlok said, his voice low and cautious as if he felt the struggle in his brother.
Drawing in a deep breath, forcing himself calm, Noatak managed a, "What?"
Tarrlok pointed, and Noatak looked; there, past the endless rows of stalls and milling crowd, large ships towered up above the docks.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So has anyone else ever noticed that the Snow Bros have ridiculously good hair? And classy-as-hell sideburns as grown-ups; Tarrlok's little Mr. Darcy things, and Noatak somehow manages to make them giant '70's chops look really good.
>
> I have absolutely nothing to put as an author-note; does it show?
6. Madam
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The boys find a ship.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Concerning Madam; she's heavily inspired by similar characters in the vein of Agatha Christie's books and similar writings, so that should give you a clue to what'll be happening for at least a few chapters ahead (there's a plot! I know, I was amazed too!).
The ships were impossibly big up close, and all the more fascinating. Some were large monstrosities of unpainted steel, decks closely packed with boxes, while others wore cheery colours, and sported large wheels on their sides. With only a bit of eavesdropping, they had found their way to the docks servicing ships bound for the United Republic.
"We found the ships!" Tarrlok said, sliding of Iqniq. "See? Wasn't so hard!"
"That's great and all," Noatak said, somewhat acidic, "but how the hell are we going to get on one? Even if we'd taken some money back home, it wouldn't be near enough for tickets!"
Tarrlok considered the teeming masses, lip pooched out in a pout. Then he smiled slightly. "Leave it to me," he said to his brother.
Before Noatak could protest, Tarrlok had slipped into the crowd, sharp eyes missing nothing. It was a dull human drama, only on a scale that a provincial boy like Tarrlok had never seen before. Tired parents corralling in their children, a gibbering man in a wheelchair with a tight-faced nurse pushing him, a young couple off on their honeymoon surrounded by well-wishers, and another young couple who, from their shifty looks, were probably eloping to escape disapproving parents.
He was on the verge of giving up and finding a way to take matters into his own hands when he saw the perfect opportunity.
An old woman, a widow by the look of her tightly braided bun, waiting to board. She still wore her betrothal necklace, carved - as far as Tarrlok could see - of white jade, and her fur coat was smooth and brushed to a silky sheen. She was trailed by an impressive entourage of not-as-rich but still finely dressed men, and several embroidered bags of luggage. And if none of that would have done for Tarrlok's sharp mind, the officer smarming at her, assuring her of a quick boarding, certainly convinced him of her wealth.
And right there, while the lady and her following were distracted by the smartly dressed officer, a weaselsnake-faced man was dipping into one of those fine bags as if his hand belonged there.
Tarrlok absently wondered if spirits could be that helpful. He donned his best dolefully earnest expression, the one that had convinced Dad, at least for a while, that Tarrlok really was that hopeless at bending, and rushed through the crowd.
"Excuse me!" he called, his voice high and honest. "Excuse me, ma'am! Behind you!" The old lady glanced at him, and the officer seemed on the verge to shoo him away, so with a last burst of speed, Tarrlok knocked into the would-be thief, pushing him away from the bag and sending a bracelet flying through the air, the stones on it catching the cold winter sun in a barrage of sparkles.
The lady near choked before crying, "Thief! Grab him, don't just stand there!" |
ce0051cf3bd040ac941d2ee2dc90b3ee | ['78998d423748440f978fd9581055c489'] |
When We Were Lovers
**Author's Note:**
> The following is in facebook chat format.
_Conversation with Auston Matthews_
_17 DECEMBER 2018 20:04_
_Mitch Marner
_ I think I deserved more than this. More than being ghosted.
_Mitch Marner_
Fuck, I can’t even call it being ghosted, because you’re still right there. Every morning on the rink, every night in the locker room. But you’re so fucking far away. I can pass you the puck, I can cellie with you when we score, but I can’t. Fucking. Reach. You.
_Mitch Marner
_ And reaching you used to be as easy as breathing, because you used to reach for me first. Do you remember our first kiss? It was after that stupid blowout loss against Tampa, and you were just. You were so mad that we lost. You scored that game, but it just wasn’t enough, and you were just. So angry. I was just there trying to get you to chill but then you grabbed me and your lips were on me, your hands were in my hair, you were still sweaty from the game…
_Mitch Marner
_ To me, your sweat reminds me of first kisses.
_Mitch Marner
_ But now it also reminds me of regret. Regret that I let myself fall so hard. That I let myself get so high on you, thinking that you’d never let me go.
_Mitch Marner
_ Remember being at the top of the ferris wheel last year in the Distillery District? You were so cold, and just so fucking cute while you complained about it. And when we finally got like ten seconds away from those damn cameras, you promised me we’d always be together. I would have kissed you right there if Willy and Zack weren’t watching, and that didn’t make you skittish, so instead I took your hand, where no one could see. You were wearing those stupid fingerless gloves, and your fingers were freezing, and I didn’t care because right then everything was perfect.
_Mitch Marner
_ I was playing in the NHL for my favourite team, had all these great friends, and I was in love with one of the greatest players in the league. And for some reason, he loved me too. I thought.
_Mitch Marner
_ Crazy how a year can change things, eh?
_Mitch Marner
_ I wish I knew what happened to us, Matts. We were fire, on and off the ice. The two of us? We could. We still CAN bring home the cup. We’re that good, and everyone knows it. Toronto loves us. Everyone loves us. Why don’t YOU love us?
_Mitch Marner
_ Remember that night in NYC? We beat the Rangers 4-2, and even though neither of us scored, we felt like we owned the world. We stood on the balcony of our hotel room that night, and we stared out over the city. And, yeah maybe New York’s lights were shining, but when I looked at you, you shined brighter than anything I’d ever seen.
_Mitch Marner
_ You and I spent almost a year after that, just. Inseparable. Got chirped for it constantly, which never bothered me because I loved you, and everything else was irrelevant. But it bothered you. You never said it, but I could tell. You always made a point to keep your space from me after Brownie would make kissing noises at us, or you would sit with Mo and Gards at the bar when JVR implied that he (as our YCP rep) accepted us. ‘course no one knew, you kept me your most guarded secret. A lie hidden in plain sight. And all those comments, they were all just harmless chirps.
_Mitch Marner
_ And I used to think I understood, because liking dudes in the NHL is. Well, it’s complicated. But it didn’t matter if no one knew about us, because we knew. And you loved me, and that’s all that mattered.
_Mitch Marner
_ But I actually get it now, and it wasn’t just the stigma. It wasn’t just you. It was me. If I were Werenski, or Tkachuk, or somebody, you’d have flaunted me, right? But I was too in love to see it. You were ashamed of me, because I’m. Well, I’m me. Too small for the league, sings on the bench, unashamedly dances in the locker room… I know how I am, and I know it’s a lot for some people. I just never thought. You were my best friend, you knew who I was. I never thought it would be too much for you, Auston.
_Mitch Marner
_ You never really loved me at all, did you, Matthews? I was just a warm body, a hot mouth, an eager, willing place to get your dick wet.
_Mitch Marner
_ So you spent a fucking year telling me all the things I wanted to hear to get what you wanted from me. And I fucking fell for it. God, Matts, I was so gone for you, I may as well have been watching you from the WAG section. And you knew it. You took advantage of it.
_Mitch Marner
_ My feelings aside, team mates don’t use other team mates like that. You know you could pick up anyone in any city any time you wanted. But I guess I was just easier. I guess you just liked that thing I did with my tongue.
_Mitch Marner
_ But it’s whatever, right man? It wasn’t your heart that got shattered, it was mine. Just like that stupid glass pane at our first practice. You’ve still got everything. And me?
_Mitch Marner
_ I’m back at the Christmas Market, and it’s almost exactly the same as last year. Remember, Aus? Same bitter cold, same shoulder-to-shoulder crowds of people, same chocolate covered bacon that definitely isn’t in the diet plan. But this time there’s no cameras. There’s no girls flocking around Willy for pictures. There’s no fans pointing and whispering. And there’s definitely no you to ride with me on the ferris wheel. To insist that it’s “You and me forever, Marns.”
_Mitch Marner
_ Remember when you were cruel enough to promise me that up there? Well. I remember when I was dumb enough to believe it.
✓ _Seen 20:47_
**Author's Note:**
> So I kinda threw this together in a single morning while feeling angsty and sad, but I'll probably continue it. Maybe it'll get better, I'm not sure. | f862d9a23ca24c419ad83dc843886372 | ['78998d423748440f978fd9581055c489'] | “This is Dylan. He’ll be playing with the Otters from now on,” he explained. He continued to talk to the girl, but Dylan had already stopped listening, opting instead to watch “Davo” talk about the upcoming Otters season, apparently oblivious to the fact that her only interest was him, and not the game. But he just seemed to… light up when he talked about hockey. Dylan didn’t want to claim that he understood it, because he’d known the guy for a day, but. But he knew the feeling of hockey setting his soul on fire. Knew that the only way to cool the blaze was to surround himself with ice. And as he watched Connor, he was pretty sure he recognized that flame burning in his eyes.
It was a kind of beautiful, entrancing flame.
After a while, she managed to coax an order out of them both, and then it was just the two of them again. And, while Dylan could strike up a casual, mundane conversation with just about anyone, he found himself enthralled with every word the two of them exchanged. Dylan could feel that the two of them were very different; where he was boisterous and quick to act, Connor was quiet, and everything he did was carefully thought out. Where Dylan was admittedly immature, Connor was just the opposite… But as time slipped away between them, so did their differences, and by the time their meals were cleared, there was no denying that Dylan Strome had found a special connection with Connor McDavid.
It had been several hours since their arrival at Russ’s Dinor, when Dylan leaned across the table towards Connor, and whispered conspiratorially.
“Hey, I need to tell you something,” he said, and Connor moved in closer to him, a serious expression creasing his brow and thinning his full lips into a hard line. Dylan pointed out the window towards the restaurant’s sign. “I’m not the smartest guy… But I’m pretty damn sure that’s not how you spell _diner_.”
He would later pinpoint Connor’s corresponding laughter as the exact moment Dylan fell for him.
_Through the black starless water,_
_And the cold lonely air._
_On the rock restless seas,_
_The vessel in deep disrepair._
_And I swore they started singing,_
_But then oh, rejoice!_
_I can still hear your voice._
2. Natural Disaster
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Moving ahead, back to present day, Davo's head is a chaotic place.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zoM5hLZ09R0
_Can you imagine all the homes abandoned and all alone?_
_With no one left to care for their wilting bones_
“ _Going through it with him is very special._ _It’s going to be very special to go through something like this with him.”_
Yeah, _special_ was about the only way Connor knew how to describe everything about his relationship with Dylan Strome. About just… Dylan Strome in general. Connor had known it since that very first day Dyls had skated next to him in Erie that there was something, well… special between them. And then at Russ’s, over pancakes and way too much bacon, he’d made Connor feel happier than he’d felt since he’d first gotten wind of Stephen and Hayden’s trades.
Dylan was exactly what he needed at that point in his life, and from then on he just seemed to, like, keep being exactly what he needed. Dylan was always just the person Connor needed at any given time in his life; When he broke his hand, Dylan became his caregiver; when he became the Otter’s captain, Stromer was his left hand man, sporting an A; in Sunrise, Florida, when Connor thought he was going to puke up everything he’d ever eaten, Dylan was there with his dorky double handed waving to calm Connor’s nerves.
So, when they were separated – Connor to Edmonton, and Dylan back to Erie – things were hard. Sure, they like. Texted, and face timed and stuff, and Connor made friends on the Oilers, but it wasn’t the same as being able to physically be together. To skate together, and get breakfast at Russ’s, and hug out their cellies and. It sucked.
Being an NHL superstar was pretty amazing. Literally the dream that he’d worked for his whole life. But doing it without Stromer by his side sucked.
“Davo,” there was a murmur against his throat, and soft lips caressed his jugular while long fingers slipped below the hem of his t-shirt, seeking more skin on skin. “Davo, you’re thinking too loud.”
And that seemed accurate, because he couldn’t get out of his own head lately. Even now, literal seconds away from getting laid… Connor was thinking about Dylan. And like, what the fuck was that about? In lieu of a response, he threaded his hand into the head of dark hair that was tucked into the crook of his neck.
“Then make me forget how to think, Nuge,” Connor purred, before tugging Ryan up into a rough kiss. And he knew Ryan would do just that, but it would only last until they were both spent, and his team mate was curled around him, looking at him a little too honestly, wanting permission to stay the night. Permission that Connor wouldn’t grant, because Connor knew he’d keep Nuge up all night with his loud thoughts.
Thoughts that were definitely not of Ryan Nugent-Hopkins, even if they both would have liked for them to be, because Connor knew Nuge wanted more than just this casual fucking. Connor knew it could be so easy with Ryan too, but as soon as he was out of Connor’s body, he was also out of his head.
_There's no electricity flowing through these lifeless veins_ |
892b89b02b774e20be9c8cc97f6bd196 | ['78dd5e63e40e4eafab36989d3ba0eb02'] |
Cones Invested
You can’t really pinpoint the exact moment Dave started getting everything he wanted. It happened little by little, bit by bit, until you had created a monster; a chubby, cute monster, but a monster nonetheless. Maybe it happened when you were too tired to fight with him over the candy bar on the way home from school, or the day you took him to the park and agreed to play pony for a good hour while other parents looked on in amusement. You wished you could go back to whenever it was and correct your mistake, you could suffer through his wet tears to prevent the attitude he presents you now.
It’s not every day you get to hang out with Dave like this. Your shift is long and taxing, and by the time you get home in the morning you barely see him before he’s off to school. At eight, he’s independent enough that you no longer hire the old lady from the floor below yours to camp on the futon all night, but not old enough you don’t worry about his safety all the time you’re gone. If you thought you could afford her watchful eye once more, things would be different and you could relax a little more at your gigs, but that wasn’t how things were. They’d probably never get that way, either, with school becoming progressively more expensive and Dave getting a little taller.
It’s funny how the very thing that forced you to drop high school made you wish you’d graduated so much more.
Dave breaks your reverie with a scowl and a tiny kick under the table.
“What’d you say, man?” Your shirt is too small from a bad run through the Laundromat dryer and the collar rubs against your neck in a decidedly uncomfortable way.
“I want ice cream.” Look at that face. You feel like slapping him. Not even a “ _Please, Bro?”_ No, it wasn’t even a question. Now was the time to tell him what was up. Don’t let him win. Teach the kid a lesso-
“Sure.” You flick a dollar across the table and watch the lil’ fucker as he scampers off towards the counter.
Fuck.
That night you scoop him off the futon where he was tucked against your side and into his own bed. You watch as he kicks the sheets off and destroys your careful handiwork because it’s too hot for him in his sleeper. Dave lets slip a peaceful sigh. There’s a little bit of ice cream smeared high on his left cheekbone, and you think maybe it’s okay. It’s okay if you spoiled him just this once, because _maybe_ he wasn’t really that aggravating at all.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
You knew it had been coming. It didn’t creep up on you, no sir, no stealth involved. Dave had been watching _Old Yeller_ almost incessantly for two weeks, he might as well have been dragging an elephant around the house with him. This little outburst had come complete with an army of red flags and fanfare pouring out the ass, but your back still stiffened and your jaw still clenched when he finally confronted you.
“You want _what_?”
“A pet. I want a dog. Geez, Bro, you deaf?” Now normally it was easy for you to ignore his quips, his little “I’ve-been-watching-too-much-Disney-channel” lines, but this? His request paired with the sass was more than you could handle, and you turn away from the groceries you’d been loading into the fridge.
“Do you hear yourself, kid? What the _fuck_ do you think you’re asking? Do you even know where you live?” It wasn’t often you raised your voice at him, but this was too much. Dave’s eyebrows raised and he backed up a step, his sneakers scuffing the linoleum a little more. “Where do you want me to pull this magical puppy from? My ass?”
Another step, but his voice barely wavered as he delivered his next line. “C’mon, Bro. No one will even notice he’s here. It’s not like we can’t afford it.”
Well, shit. This kid is completely clueless, you realize. You did your job too well. He has no idea whatsoever of how shitty his apartment is. He doesn’t know that kids his age get _new_ shoes, never before worn. He doesn’t understand the concept of a car versus the city bus, of working all night, prickling fingers aching from a second job, hundreds of dollars invested in babysitting and school, the fear of not being able to feed your kid, of someone ratting you out, of losing everything, your home, your baby fucking brother who was still _sitting_ there with that _smarmy-ass_ _look on his face_ -
You crouch down to his level and look him right in the eye over your rad specs so this little shit can see how serious you really are.
“Kid, I will decide what we can and cannot afford, and right now I am telling you straight up that there is no way _in hell_ I am buying you a puppy. Got it?”
“But Bro-!” The urgency in his voice broke your heart a little, but at the same time the snotty look on his face made you regret every ice cream cone ever invested in this tiny ball of indignant rage.
“Shut up, lil’ man. It’s definitely time you went to your room. ” You turn back to discarding plastic bags and ignore the growl behind you and the harsh slam of the bedroom door. Dave knew he wasn’t allowed to slam doors. Damnit, it set you on edge. Your throat constricts and you finish up as quickly as possible. You needed a smoke. Bad.
By the time you had finished your cigarette, gray tendrils of smoke curling up into the auburn afternoon sun, Dave had quieted in his room. When you peek in, he’s asleep on the bed, tear streaks slowly drying up on pudgy cheeks where his platinum blond locks stick to his face.
Fuck.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
You weren’t expecting anything from Dave when you came home from work two days later, shoulders sagging and keys dropped on the counter with tired hands. You will vehemently deny, if asked, the yelp that you _definitely_ didn’t make when little arms wrapped around your legs as you searched the cupboard for a clean glass to drink out of. No, you hardly cared at all when they let go after a brief moment and you turned around to see Dave with his back to you, focused on feeding the two goldfish buzzing around happily in an old vase on the counter. You watch him try to ignore you as you ruffle his hair on your way towards the futon and you think, maybe it’s okay. The meals you skipped and the extra hours mopping puke off the floor in the club bathrooms were okay. They were worth it, they just didn’t matter. Not when Dave actually came over to say goodbye to you before leaving for school. The apartment door clicked shut gently behind him.
You fall asleep to the rumbling groan that the air conditioning unit makes as it picks up.
**Author's Note:**
> wow okay this is my first work posted here, and really the only thing within which I've attempted the present tense. Definitely not my favorite piece. I would LOVE feedback! | 3098478dd70b4efebd97958ce0e7448f | ['78dd5e63e40e4eafab36989d3ba0eb02'] | “I do!” Meulin cried, and struggled with the password. How she was unsuccessful at typing hitting the 3 key four consecutive times was simultaneously hilarious and heartbreaking, and she eventually gave up with a wail and threw her head down on the bar.
“Shoooore.” Meenah stood and tugged on Meulin’s collar. It was a litteral kitty accessory, that Rufioh had found at a convention and bought with her in mind. Meenah enjoyed the way the large, fake gems shone under the strobe lights.
“Let’s go, cap’n.” With that she was gone, and Meulin wondered for a moment if Meenah would even care if she didn’t follow. She tried her phone again.
“Why meeeeeeeee?” she called to no one in particular, before righting herself and setting off into the wave of bodies, all sweat-slick and tall around her. When she finally reached Meenah, she was grateful for the familiar hand tugging her out the door and into the expensive shuttle outside it.
Under the street lights Meenah’s nails were unquestionably fandango fuschia, and thankfully she said nothing when Meulin seemingly forgot to let go of her. The ride was quiet, as fancy cars tend to make things, and the soft hum of the heater made Meulin a little sick. She rested in her seat sideways and stared at Meenah’s hand on the clutch and the soft green glow of the radio until they blurred away into nothingness.
Meulin woke up in her own bed the next afternoon, eternally grateful for it (in the least black way possible!). Her head was pounding and her lipstick truly smeared, and she spent a very long time with her blankets pulled up over her head and curtains drawn.
That Perigree’s season, when Aranea showed up with little shortbread cookies and hot chocolate for three, Meulin wasn’t surprised to find Meenah close behind. They curled up on her plush sofa and let Aranea do her thing, lulled by the lilt in her voice and the snow outside. For her part, Meenah sweetly refrained from making any rude comments or dumb faces when Aranea’s stories would turn to rambles. Meulin would know.
She was watching.
**Author's Note:**
> haha wow sorry
> i think that this was lilia's fault but I don't even remember anymore |
e3da4f9f9c904da6af85fb0062fe4ed4 | ['78f28d377be9468480d29314b3289a2d'] | As soon as Taeyong was done, Donghyuck rushed to claim the dog as his piece. He didn't miss the light frown on Lucas' and Jungwoo's face, but they didn't say anything, so he smiled to himself in victory. Being the youngest had it's perks.
Taeil went with his trustworthy choice, the shoe. Taeyong picked the iron, and Jungwoo resigned himself to the car. Everyone was waiting for Lucas to take one of the pieces, but he seemed a bit lost, examining all the leftovers closely.
"What's wrong Lucas? Why don't you choose one?"
The tall boy looked at Taeyong and scratched the back of his neck.
"Well, hmm... I always use the dog, so... I don't know which one to choose..."
He was smiling, but everyone could tell he was a bit embarrassed, trying not to look at Donghyuck or his dog piece, not wanting to seem like he was asking the younger to give it to him. It was cute.
"You can have the dog."
Donghyuck offered him the piece with a smile. Of course Lucas tried to refuse, but he didn't stand a chance against Donghyuck's persistance.
"It's okay, really! The hat is my second favourite anyway, I don't mind playing with it."
With a shy "Thank you" from Lucas and a proud smile from Taeyong, he grabbed his new piece and placed it at the start, next to the others. It really wasn't a problem for him to play as the hat. It kind of reminded him of Michael, his number one idol, so he liked it quite a lot. He had only chosen the dog because it is the cutest piece, but this was good too.
They started the game. Donghyuck liked playing with his hyungs, because that always meant he'd be the first to roll the dice. It didn't mean he would win, he rarely would, but he liked making the first move, being the one that started the whole thing.
After about half an hour, it started to get boring.
It had been fun until then, with Lucas managing to end up in jail twice, Taeyong joining him the second time right after making fun of him, Jungwoo buying every single property and going bankrupt and Taeil getting only ones and twos when rolling the dice.
Donghyuck was having a good time, at times laughing so much it felt like his cheeks would jump out of his face. But now, the game had slowed down a bit, and everything was becoming repetitive.
He took a look at the other players. Taeyong and Taeil seemed to still be enjoying the game, as expected from a couple of grandpas. On the other hand, Lucas looked as bored as Donghyuck felt. Jungwoo seemed to be somewhere in between, as if in the transition state from interested to uninterested.
Donghyuck locked eyes with Lucas, who had noticed the other was also tired of playing. It didn't matter much though, since they couldn't really do anything to keep themselves entertained, not wanting to bother the ones who were having fun.
He decided to listen to the music faintly playing in the background. It was barely audible, he had actually forgotten about it while they were playing, but he could still make out that the song playing was theirs. He started lightly bopping his head to the rhythm, finding that much more appealing than what was happening in the game.
From the corner of his eye, he could see Lucas looking at him, and then at the sound system the music was coming from. Donghyuck threw him an amused smile when he saw him starting to slightly move his head from one side to the other, in sync with the beat. He didn't expect to receive one back, but it was a pleasant surprise. Huh, maybe Lucas didn't dislike him all that much... Or maybe he was just dying of boredom.
He heard his part coming up, and showed Lucas an excited smile. It was more in a jokingly manner than anything, but he still managed to make the other boy look excited as well. For some reason, that made him kind of happy. Could they become good friends?
He smiled at that.
"This song is good! Who's singing?"
And the smile faded.
Was he serious? Did he really not know it was Donghyuck's voice? Was he just making a joke? The question had sounded too genuine for it to be a joke. What was his deal? First he didn't know his name, now he couldn't even recognize his voice?
The others stopped playing for a moment to try to understand what song was playing. When they finally got it, Taeyong told Lucas it was one of 127's songs, to which he nodded with enthusiasm.
Donghyuck got up from his pillow. He was fed up with Lucas, if his annoyed expression was anything to go by. He refused to look at him, but he could tell there was a shift in his mood as well. He now seemed confused, worried even. Donghyuck thought it was fair for making him feel like this.
"I'm going to get some water."
And with that, he started heading towards the kitchen.
"But it's your turn Haechannie!"
"You can skip me, keep playing."
He didn't bother to look back when answering Jungwoo, not really caring about the game anymore. He just wanted to get away from Lucas. From all of them actually.
He closed the kitchen door and leaned back against the counter.
It hadn't been a minute when he heard the door opening and saw Taeyong's head popping in, as if asking if it was okay for him to enter the kitchen. Donghyuck simply looked away.
Taeyong closed the door behind him and let himself rest on the spot next to Donghyuck.
"So... Have you drank your water already?"
"Yeah, I was actually about to go back." | d4962387d5a0409f8827b200d6bdce3b | ['78f28d377be9468480d29314b3289a2d'] | He sees as Chenle slowly turns his head away from the movie and sighs an okay. He looks back at Renjun. _Not so amused anymore, huh?_
"Thank you Lele, this is why you're my favourite Chinese member in this room."
He blows a kiss in Chenle's direction before starting to drag Lucas to one of the rooms, almost being hit by a pillow thrown angrily by Renjun.
When he closes the door, he notices Lucas going to sit on one of the beds, a frown on his face.
"Hey, are you okay...?"
The other seems to be surprised by Donghyuck's voice, but quickly returns to his pout.
"Yeah, it's just..." He crosses his arms. "Anyone could have picked the blanket up, Chenle is not that special."
The younger couldn't believe it. Lucas was acting like an actual baby. Was he jealous of Chenle? Because Donghyuck had said he was his favourite? He didn't know his approval was this important to his members... Maybe all the Chinese members had debates about who Donghyuck liked the most! That would be cool.
He takes another look at Lucas. He really wants to pinch his cheeks. So he does just that.
"I know that, silly! I was just teasing Injun."
He sees the other's cheeks become red, and he seems embarrassed. Maybe he had pinched him too hard...?
"Yes. Of course. I... I knew that."
Before he can question the elder's flustered face any further, he's already asking what Donghyuck wanted to talk to him about. He knows he's changing the subject, meaning he has something to hide. Usually he wouldn't drop it, but his mission was more important right now.
"I wanted to ask you to be my helper in my plan to get two love birds together."
Lucas stays silent for a bit. He seems to be deep in thought, his eyes stuck on the same spot even as he answers Donghyuck.
"So... you want me... to play matchmaker... with you...?"
"That's one way to put it, yeah."
He stiffs as the other's eyes find his, sparkling with excitement. He stays like that for a few seconds, resembling a puppy that had just been told he was going out for a walk after not leaving the house for days. Adorable.
"Who are we getting together? Some friends of yours?"
"Hmm... Yes? I mean, Taeyong-hyung and Taeil-hyung are my friends, so..."
Lucas' eyes widen in shock, the enthusiastic smile being replaced by a frown.
"We're matching the hyungs?! They've said they don't like each other a million times, we're gonna get grounded forever!"
"And do you believe them...? When they say they don't like each other?"
Donghyuck raises an eyebrow as he watches Lucas' mouth open and close, no sound coming out.
"... No."
The younger smiles in victory before being brought to reason by the tall boy.
"But we shouldn't mess with it just because we think we know the truth... It's not our problem, we shouldn't get involved."
Okay, maybe Lucas hadn't been the best choice after all, he was starting to make Donghyuck feel guilty with all his valid arguments and thought-filled expressions.
But he couldn't let his plans be destroyed.
So he musters all the charm he had in himself to convince the other.
"I know but..."
He gets closer to Lucas, maybe a little too close, but the other wasn't complaining, so he kept talking.
"They really like each other, have for years, I'm a hundred percent sure. But I'm also a hundred percent sure that, as has happened until now, they won't talk about it. That's why I want to help, give them the push they need... Will you help me do that, hyung?"
His voice was soft, and he didn't know when but his hand had made it's way to under Lucas' chin, lifting his head enough so that their eyes were aligned.
"O... Okay..."
The other seemed to be in some sort of daze, his eyes focused only on the face in front of him, but it was broken when Donghyuck stepped away from him and started clapping excitedly, a satisfied grin on his face.
"Perfect!"
Or well, at least he thought it was, until Lucas asked what exactly was his plan and he remembered he didn't have one yet.
"That's precisely why I need a helper, my dear Lucas. Even a mastermind like me can't think of everything on their own!"
After striking a dramatic pose and getting an amused eye roll out of Lucas, the other's eyebrows shot up, as if recalling something.
"I once saw a movie where the protagonists were in love, and their friends secretly helped them get together too! We could do what they did...!"
Donghyuck snaps his fingers.
"Now that's what I call an idea! What did they do?"
Lucas brings his fingers to his chin, squinting eyes and scrunched nose trying their best to get the memories out.
"I think they planned a dinner without telling them? And then they danced or something...?"
A spark lit up in Donghyuck's eyes.
"A candle-lit dinner, I love it! And then dancing together, how romantic..."
He had to catch himself, already in dream land, his hands clutching his chest and happy sighs escaping his mouth. Lucas was looking at him fondly, making him feel embarrassed.
He cleared his throat.
"A-anyway, yeah, good idea, let's do that."
Lucas chuckled.
"A hopeless romantic, I see."
Donghyuck blushed, but then decided there was nothing to be shy about. He was Lee Donghyuck, master of love.
"I plead as guilty. I know everything about love! My powers include being the best matchmaker, giving lots of affection, and sensing someone in love from miles away, among others."
Donghyuck stops counting his "powers" on his fingers when he hears Lucas bitterly mutter something along the lines of _"One of those is clearly a lie..."_ , which offends him immensely. |
71a8b15d4b0748a9bdd8e85bed4d06dc | ['790bdbdd1dfc454299a92eb31859bd34'] | USER: *fucks kaneki* kaneki: *is fuck*
Kaneki heard his phone ring. His ringtone was Thrift Shop by Macklemore. Hey, kaneki loved his gays. Anyways, he looked at the screen and saw it was USER-san.
“Tolley-senpai!” Kaneki exclaimed.
Trolley stay silent. Kaneki got a massive erection. His hardened cock ripped through his jeans and almost touched the opposite wall of the room (his dick was 6 ft long).
“T-USER-san, I love when you talk dirty to me…”
The shopping cart took out a trumpet and started playing it. Kaneki was so close to reaching his limit, precum pouring out of his dick.
“Trolley-san, I’m at work!!!!” Kaneki exclaimed. Just then there was banging on the door of the bathroom.
“KANEKI GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE SHITTER I NEED TO TAKE A BIG SHIT AND IT’S GOING TO RIP MY ASS APART” Touka screamed, banging on the door.
“GO AWAY YOU STUPID EMO” Kaneki yelled back. He was jacking his dong and he did not want to stop just to let this emo take a shit.
Touka rolled her eyes. “Whatever, baka.” And she moshed the fuck out of there.
The shopping cart still kept silent. Kaneki blushed. “You can’t have sex with me in the bathroom…! I’ll come over to your place.” Kaneki ran out of the bathroom and through the kitchen, knocking over plates with his massive dick. He nyoomed all teh way 2 Trolley-san’s house xDXDXDXDXDXDDXX :3c.
He burst the door open, using his balls to wreck the door open. His light up Sketchers© illuminated the dark room. Trolley-san sat on the couch, wearing nothing but a thong. He was ready.
Kaneki tore off all his clothes and jumped into Trolley-san’s lap. Trolley squeaked its wheels and Kaneki blushed.
“Y-you want me to talk dirty to you?” The Trolley didn’t say anything. Kaneki blushed harder, his dick throbbing. He leaned up to Trolley-san and whispered, “According to all known aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly.” Trolley started jacking off Kaneki with his wheel. Kaneki screamed.
“DADDY GIVE ME CUMMIES,” Kaneki screamed. Trolley pulled Hot Wheels cars out of its basket and started shoving them up Kaneki’s ass. Kaneki shuddered as the small cars were being shoved up his anus.
“Kaneki-kun!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Tsukiyama burst through the door, hopping on his Moon Shoes. The Trolley and Kaneki stopped.
“Mind if I join?” Tsukiyama asks, tipping his fedora. “Class is for men, swag is for boys.”
He tears off his clothes and hops onto Trolley and Kaneki. *troll face* Kaneki moans when Tsukiyama takes a turkey and shoves it up his ass.
“Gobble gobble, Kaneki-kun.” Tsukiyama LOL’s and puts this meme on ICanHasCheezburger.com. Kaneki shakes from the intense meme usage.
“POUND THE FUCKING BODY” Tsukiyama moans as he shoved the Turkey up his ass. Trolley uses his wheels to stroke Kaneki’s perky nip nips.
“Wow, much nipple, such turn on!” Kaneki moaned, very doge-like.
“Oi, Kaneki-kun, I wanna peel ya onions.” Tsukiyama moaned, taking his ogre hands and feeling Kaneki up. Trolley was blushing super hard. O//////////////O
“You fucking weaboo piece of shit.” Kaneki snorted. Tsukiyama was offended wtf.
“I’m not a weaboo, I’m an OTAKU” He yelled, rubbing his dick all over Kaneki. They were all climaxing, about to cum at the same time.
“T-USER-san! I want to sing you a song!” Kaneki gasped. Trolley blushed.
Kaneki let out a shaky breath and started singing. “If you believe it!
Naruto! Naruto!
Believe it! Believe it!
Here I am with my Ninja Clan!
Ninja Clan, here we stand!
Naruto, I’m on my way,
Naruto, I’ll be okay!
Getting ready to fight on set!
Come on best friends by my side!
Sasuke, is really cool!
Sakura, the beautiful! “
All three came, the delicious white juice squirting everywhere.
“Daddy-senpai…….! uwu” Kaneki blushed :3c. Trolley blushed. Tsukiyama put his fedora back on.
“Well, it’s time to troll some kids on the /a/ board. See you on 4chan.” Tsukiyama used his ass to blast himself off. Kaneki cuddled with Trolley-snepai.
And that’s how the Grinch stole christmas | 27a5a3cd90364cab9c985e1d527852ce | ['790bdbdd1dfc454299a92eb31859bd34'] | Who says Girls Belong in the Kitchen?
I remember earlier today hearing my best friend share with me some…interesting news. “Kaneki. You know… I’d clatter my plates for you anytime.” I didn’t have a negative feeling towards this, more of a, pleasant surprise.
And now somewhere along the way I’ve ended up here, naked in the ghoul restaurant’s kitchen, strapped to Trolley-san with leather straps, Hide kissing me and Tsukiyama grabbing a skillet from the pantry. ‘Oh yeah, Tsukiyama never got his scallion sautéed balls did he?’ Kaneki thought to himself.
I can’t believe all this is happening, and that I’m doing this with my best friend, the one and only precious ray of sunshine. Damn he’s a good kisser too, really good actually.
"Nn…gh..Hide..hah" kaneki muttered against the blondes lips. Hide just moaned against their swirling tongues in reply along with laughing softly. Hide then broke away from the kiss and then started suckling on the boy’s neck and nipples earning even more noises from the already flustered friend. Tsukiyama just hummed in the background pouring human fat oil onto the pan to sear Kaneki’s balls in.
I could feel Trolley-san struggling underneath me probably trying to stick his amazing wheel up my tight ass. His gleaming silver bars creaked and shook on my back, the shopping cart even began to sweat. I could tell Trolley-san was very turned on. Hide continued to kiss and lick me up and down so much that I was starting to question if he was a ghoul or not.
"Please….Hide…hah…I can’t take it a-anymore." Kaneki cried out, desperate for his nether region to be touched. A sizzling and delicious aroma drifted to Kaneki’s nose and he began to drool even more.
"Okay Kaneki, but I’m going to try something." The college student began undressing and climbed on top of the other boy, except, he was facing towards Kaneki’s dick and Hide’s was very close to his own face. "Wow, this USER is pretty uncomfortable. I kinda feel bad for tying you up on this." He said just before he began licking the black haired boy’s member and earning a surprised squeal. "Come on…suck mine too." The blonde desperately panted while pushing his hot rod into Kaneki’s face even more.
Kaneki took his best friend’s penis into his mouth and began licking the shaft. Both of the friends were there projecting lewd, mouth-filled moans into the echoing room. Trolley-san began to really struggle so Hide reached out to message his skilled wheels.
From the stove top Tsukiyama was watching with lust, jealousy, and a raging boner. The big purple gay turned off the stove and strolled over with a bowl to the ecstasy riddled college boys. He began to stroke Kaneki’s legs making him whimper and tense up slightly. Planting a flurry of kisses on his inner thighs Tsukiyama worked his way to the half-ghoul’s balls. He began licking
and sucking on his nut sack making Kaneki whine and moan even louder. The purple man began to undo his pants and stroke his own stick.
As Tsukiyama was preparing to bite off Kaneki’s balls his gaze and the other boy’s locked and the gourmet couldn’t figure out the twisted emotion in Hide’s eyes. Tsukiyama placed his teeth around the base of the testicles and, while filled with glee and arousal, chopped them off. There was a loud moaning scream that came from Kaneki and the slightly older man had to use all his will-power to not swallow the fresh testes right then and there. Tsukiyama reluctantly spit them in the bowl and this repeated at least ten times till the bowl was full but Tsukiyama was too turned on to return to the stove so he got up slightly so he could stick his penis in a hole between Trolley-san’s bars.
"Tres bien!" He screamed, "True amore!!" As he pumped into Trolley-san’s glistening steel bars. The three humanoid figures climaxed around the same time and as Hide was untying Kaneki, Tsukiyama returned to the kitchen with his bowl full of freshly chopped gonads. Trolley-san was still not done though.
As soon as the exhausted black haired boy got off of the shopping cart, it flipped over and pinned Kaneki down. Hide just watched because he was still amazed at how this grocery cart could move and have free will.
Trolley-san began to message Kaneki’s nipples and working a wheel into his asshole. Kaneki, by now, was a panting, moaning mess as the wheels started doing donuts in his prostate. By the time they both had came, Kaneki for the second time now, Tsukiyama was nearly finished with the food and began serving it on a table.
The college students got dressed, washed their hands, and made their way to the table.
"Tsukiyama-san you don’t need to serve me I really don’t want to eat my own genitals." Kaneki said while making hand gestures. Tsukiyama then looked over to Hide inquiring.
"If it’s Kaneki I have no problem eating it!" The blonde declared while kissing his embarrassed best friend and laughing. |
a16a6f51f2ae45159fa0fc090908b2d9 | ['7933b31fd7e2437d8d1eeca89d833a94'] |
1. In Which There Are a Number of Conversations About Patrick Kane
**Author's Note:**
> Originally posted on Tumblr, Unbetaed.
“So,” Amanda says, catching up to him in the hallway at the American House. “Patrick Kane.”
“Ummm, he’s around here somewhere?” Phil offers, he’s not sure what Amanda wants with Kaner but it’s probably better not to ask really.
“No,” Amanda huffs at him “I’m not looking for him, I’m asking you if you know what he’s saying about you?”
“No?”
“You are really hopeless,” Amanda says and punches him in the arm, but she’s smiling and she didn’t hit too hard so Phil thinks it’s ok.
Phil pushes her into the wall, gently. “This is what I have you for,” he reminds her.
“Ok fine, he’s saying that you’re his favorite player to play with.”
“Is he making fun of me?” It doesn’t seem like something Pat would do but… sometimes it’s hard for Phil to tell.
“No,” Amanda says, “but I think he’s pulling Toews’ pigtails.”
“That’s weird,” Phil tells her.
“I’ll send you all the links,” Amanda calls over her shoulder running off to catch up with some of her teammates.
Phil nods, he won’t look. He hasn’t looked at a link his sister has sent him in years, it’s better that way.
**
“Are you fucking him?”
Phil stares at his phone for a long moment and then hangs up on his sister.
_No seriously_ the text message reads _are you?!?_
Phil sighs, _no_ he texts back and hopes that it would be the end of it, he doesn’t really believe that it will be, but he hopes.
_Sounds like he wants it bad bro ;)_ he gets back almost immediately.
**
The third conversation about Patrick Kane is not actually a conversation at all, what it is, is Jonathan Toews staring at him with a really disturbing amount of murder in his eyes for three and a half solid minutes before stalking off.
**
The forth conversation about Patrick Kane is with Bozie. Time zones are kind of tricky but he doesn’t mind catching Bozie late at night or early in the morning, the way Bozie’s sentences drag out sleepy and slow. It makes Phil think about Bozie drifting off with his head in Phil’s lap, about waking up next to him in the morning, it’s nice. But Bozie has apparently also seen whatever quotes set Amanda off.
“Mandy thinks he wants to have sex with me,” he offers in the hope that Bozie will tell him that was silly and his sister was pranking him.
“He definitely does,” Bozie agrees with Amanda, which is not what was supposed to happen at all.
“You really think so?” Phil asks because it just seems highly unlikely.
Bozie is quiet for a moment before he says, “You could, if you wanted to, I would be ok with it.”
“Could what?” Phil asks “Could have sex with Kaner?”
“Yea,” Bozie says.
“Why?” Phil’s not asking why he might want to fuck Kaner; he can see the appeal, if he thinks about it, Kaner’s smile and his incredible hands. What he’s asking is why Bozie would want him to.
“I want you to have the full Olympic experience, also I kind of like the idea of Patrick Kane, first overall draft pick, two time Stanley cup champion, being jealous of me.” Bozie says and he sounds fond. Phil can picture the look that goes with that tone of voice, it’s the look that he had when they found out Phil was going to the Olympics, like nothing made him happier than Phil getting nice things.
“I’ll think about it.”
**
They have a day off between games and Phil is hanging out in the common room at the American house. After a while Kaner wanders in and flops down on the couch next to him. Phil likes talking to Kaner because he has interesting things to say, and also because he doesn’t mind doing most of the talking, seems content with Phil nodding or humming to show he’s still listening to what Kaner’s telling him about the Russians power play.
Over the course of the next half an hour Kaner shifts closer and closer until he’s basically cuddled up against Phil’s side. Phil had his arm along the back of the couch when Kaner sat down and now Kaner is practically in his lap. It makes everything Mandy and Bozie have been telling him much more plausible. What the hell, Phil thinks, and drops his arm off of the back of the couch and wraps it around Kaner’s shoulders and cuddles him back.
“They’ve been telling me that you want me.” He says, and gets to watch a blush flood across Pat’s face.
“I… wait, who told you?” he asks, but doesn’t try to move away, if anything he curls himself in tighter against Phil’s side.
“My sister and Bozie. Bozie says I can if you want to.” Phil tells him.
“Yea?” Pat grins at him, “Cool, I definitely want to.”
He’s solid but he’s small and it’s easy for Phil to pull Pat into his lap. Phil cups a hand around the back of Pat’s head and pulls him into a kiss.
**
Pat is quiet when Phil kisses him.
He’s loud later.
**
“Holy Shit I think you killed me.”
Phil smiles, presses a kiss against the dip of Pats collarbone and pulls the sheet up over them both.
**
And one conversation about Phil Kessel.
The Hawks and the Leafs play after the Olympic break and Bozie can’t help smirking when he catches Patrick Kane watching Phil during warmups.
He meets Kane at center ice.
“Hey, Thanks.” Kane says and Bozie doesn’t ask what for.
“Phil is amazing,” he says, “More people should appreciate him.”
“Yea I’d….” Kane starts and then trails off, maybe thinking better of saying something filthy about Phil to Phil’s boyfriend. | 110574ae47444ff8a9adbe56cfa24e6b | ['7933b31fd7e2437d8d1eeca89d833a94'] |
1. In Which Bozie Is A Patriot And Phil Gets Permission
**Author's Note:**
> This has been sitting around mostly finished since the beginning of the season and I decided it was time to release it into the wild. Un-betaed, all errors and wandering commas are mine and mine alone.
>
> This is a sequel to a fic in which Phil hooks up with Jonathan Toews and Patrick Kane at the 2015 All-Star game. This is mentioned once briefly in a conversation between Sid and Jonny but Kane does not appear in this fic at all.
“You should enjoy yourself in Pittsburg, everyone there is going to be so happy to have you,” Bozie says, all fake seriousness and over the top innuendo, but Phil can tell that he’s trying not to smile.
“That sounded very sleazy,” Phil says, fake serious in return, but he can’t keep a straight face for long and ends up smiling at Bozie, he wasn’t trying very hard not to.
He hadn’t been thrilled about the trade but it also hadn’t been much of a surprise. The writing was on the wall for all of them and he would have only been mildly shocked if they had burned down the ACC and started over from the ground up. But after a couple of weeks and everyone from Bozie to his new GM pointing out that on a team with Sidney Crosby he’s never going to be the guy the media wants to talk to, he’s more or less used to the idea. It’s still a minor miracle that Bozie can make him laugh about it though.
“Sidney Crosby is looking forward to playing with you,” Bozie says, leaning into Phil’s side.
Phil puts an arm around Bozie’s waist and buries his grin against the side of Bozie’s neck. Even if ‘call me Sid, we’re teammates now’ who texted him more or less immediately after the news of the trade broke wasn’t interested in him in the way that Bozie was obviously hinting at, it was still pretty cool that the best player in the world seemed so excited to have him on their team.
“You should let him,” Bozie says, scratching his nails gently through the hair at the base of Phil’s skull.
“Yeah?” Phil asks, pressing a kiss to the side of Bozie’s neck and then another, higher, just below Bozie’s ear. Even a hint of teeth here will leave Bozie shuddering in his arms and that is tempting, but they’re not quite done with the conversation so Phil refrains, lets his kisses stay soft, lets Bozie keep talking.
“It’s _Sidney Crosby_. It’s practically my duty as a Canadian to offer him blowjobs by proxy.”
“Really?” Phil pulls back to look at him, Bozie is laughing but there’s enough of a blush high on his cheekbones that Phil thinks he means it more than a little bit.
“How patriotic,” Phil says, unsure if there actually is an appropriate way to respond to a statement like that and when Bozie breaks into giggles he decides that the rest of the conversation can wait. He interrupts Bozie’s laughter with a kiss and then crowds him gently back against the kitchen counter. He sets his teeth against the sensitive skin of Bozie’s neck and spends a long moment thoroughly derailing Bozie’s train of thought. When he pulls back, Bozie is panting, a little wide eyed, and getting hard against his hip, definitely not thinking about anyone but the two of them.
Phil smiles, takes his hand, and leads him to bed. It’s two in the afternoon and light is streaming though the bedroom. It occurs to him that he’s not going to have many more chances like this before the season starts, before they’re in different countries. At least 8 months before another long lazy afternoon with nothing to do and nowhere to be. So he pushes Bozie down into the puddle of sunlight on their bed and takes his time, wrecks them both.
Much later, after napping and showering and ordering takeout, he picks the conversation back up.
“So Crosby,” Phil says, he’s long since given up arguing with Bozie about whether or not the entire NHL wants to sleep with him. He still thinks it’s unlikely but Bozie seems sure. He also seems to be right much of the time, which is slightly disconcerting. In any case, Bozie is the one who makes the rules.
“Mmmm? Crosby?” Bozie asks.
“I’m supposed to give him a blowjob?” Phil offers.
“Oh that,” Bozie grins, “Yeah you should.”
“Anything else I should do in Pittsburgh?” Phil asks.
“Score,” Bozie says, and then at Phil unimpressed look continues “Have fun, with anyone you’d like but I get veto power.”
“Ok,” Phil agrees, he doesn’t think it’ll be something he really has to worry about much, but it’s good to have the expectations set.
2. In Which Sidney Crosby Has Awkward Conversations With And About Phil Kessel
** Claude Giroux **
Their tentative worlds truce has not prepared him for Claude to drop down into the seat next to his at lunch and make a noise that very clearly instructs ‘ask me why I’m aggravated’ but he is the captain, and so he will try.
“Is everything ok?” he asks cautiously.
“Seguin,” Claude says, “I swear that kid does not stop talking.”
Claude turns to look very seriously at Sid. “And if I have to hear about Phil Kessel’s cock one more time, I’m going to shut him up with mine.”
And that is way, way beyond the reach of the Worlds truce or his duty as a captain.
“Claude,” Sid uses his captain voice, makes eye contact, because this is a serious request. “Don’t ever tell me anything about your dick or where you plan to put it, ever, ever again.” |
5031a461e0be48b3ae641c9bc1ee4703 | ['797592fd46be41008d7cd8102212b3e7'] | "Before you ask, no I did not catch the Copy Cat, but I was this close. She got away, but I'll make damn sure to get her next time," she said, as she prepared her cup of coffee.
"Mrs. Kyle if you would just-"
"I know what you're going to say but she shot two cops last night. She's out of control and I can't stop until she's off the streets...God, Bruce's do-gooderness is starting to rub off on me." She sighed. "Oh well. Can't be helped. I'll need-"
"Selina Kyle!" Alfred shouted interrupting her rant.
Selina was slightly taken aback, but Alfred's face didn't soften. It was then that Selina realized how anxious he appeared.
"Mrs. Kyle," he lowered his voice even though she was sure none of the boys were home right now. "I would hate to disrupt your investigation, but a very urgent matter has been brought to my attention."
Selina's eyebrow furrowed. "More important than catching a cop killer?"
"I'm afraid so. Someone called last night-a reporter named Glenn Reed-asking for Master Wayne."
Selina almost laughed in relief. "Well that's-"
"There's more," Alfred continued. "He wanted to speak to Master Bruce about an article—a profile—he is writing about him. When I told him that he was out of the country and unavailable to take calls he...he asked if he could speak with 'the Mrs.'."
Selina's blood ran cold. Alfred was the only one person who called her "Mrs." It was a controlled secret. The only people who knew were those they wanted to know. They had been so careful. Done in private in the middle of the night with only Alfred serving as a witness. She wasn't even sure their marriage was one hundred percent legal.
She knew that this would happen eventually. It was nothing short of a miracle that they had managed to have a year and half of undisturbed and peaceful marital bliss. Well, peaceful by Gotham standards. She knew from the beginning that it couldn't be avoided forever. They both did; though they never really talked about it. Even in the happiest of days it hung over them. They and the ghost of things yet to come; an awkward, silent threesome.
"Is that all he said?" Selina's words came out stiff; probably from the shock.
Alfred nodded once. "He said he would call back in the morning."
As if on cue the phone on the kitchen wall began to ring, slightly startling Alfred. Selina and Alfred stared at as if it had just come to life. Alfred cleared his throat before making his way across the kitchen and picking up the phone.
"Wayne Residence," he answered in his usual greeting. "Hhmm… hhmm…I see…No, he is not available at the moment…No…I will relay the message. Thank you."
Selina could feel her heart racing. The time that it took Alfred to hang up the phone and turn back toward her was perhaps the longest four seconds of her entire life.
"That was the West-Reeves school calling about Master Damian's repeated tardiness."
Selina let go of the breath she didn't realize she had been holding. She cursed under her breath. This was just great! As if she didn't have enough problems to worry about. She considered calling Bruce and telling him to come home right away but squashed that idea in a Gotham City minute. Instead she told Alfred that she would deal with it without telling him what she planned to do. She wasn't even sure herself at this point, but she knew that this could not wait until Bruce came home.
Disguised in a beige wool trench coat, large cat-eye sunglasses, and long blonde wig she left the manor soon after, but not before going down to the cave to dig up a bit of information on Glenn Reed, the reporter. She made it downtown in an hour, parked her Mercedes in the alley in the safe house closest to her location, and took the subway the rest of the way. If she had been under the cloak of night Selina would've just gone up the fire escape and broken in through a window, but because it subtly was more practical for the daytime. She waited outside the building and slipped in through the front entrance as someone was leaving the building. A classic city trick. Deciding to forgo the elevator to avoid potential security cameras she took the emergency staircase to the sixth floor.
Apartment 611. Apartment 612. Apartment 613. Finally; apartment 614. Selina glanced around to make sure no one was watching her. Though the building had been restored sometime in the last decade Selina estimated that the lock on the door had been installed in the 1920s. she picked it with a hair pin in three seconds flat and slipped inside.
She stepped into the dimly lit apartment, softly shutting the door behind her. Once she was sure that she was alone she took the opportunity to sweep the apartment. There didn't appear to be anything discernable about the place. There were a few pieces of mismatched furniture in the living room, an empty cereal bowl on the table, and a stack of newspapers sitting on an ottoman. Selina didn't know exactly what she had been expecting or even what she should be looking for. A conspiracy board? Bruce had more of a mind for investigation.
She looked through the bedrooms and didn't find anything—she didn't know—incriminating, she supposed. All in all, it seemed like a typical apartment belonging to a regular, broke twenty-five-year-old reporter. A small chausie cat emerged from her hiding place underneath of the couch and began weaving between Selina's legs, meowing. Selina went into the kitchen and filled her bowl with kibble. The cat purred in appreciation.
"Can I go back to what I was doing? Is that okay with you?" She asked the cat, who glanced up from her bowl in response. | c5d64a18311b4b17b41d323111c5bdc6 | ['797592fd46be41008d7cd8102212b3e7'] | Bruce had been kind enough to let Rae watch Selina's police interrogation from his tablet. Selina had been interrogated for nearly 12 hours. She'd need more time to review the recording in its entirety to get the full story, but the abridged version of Selina's "confession" wasn't as cut and dry as it had been reported in the news. Selina had been brought in by Batman himself so there was no denying that she was indeed Catwoman. She had been impressively calm at first. She even seemed to find the whole thing mildly amusing. Something Rae found odd was that while Selina had readily admitted to committing any thefts she had committed as Catwoman, she initially denied involvement in the murder. She claimed mistaken identity. Whether she was being sincere or just a very good actress, Rae couldn't tell.
Something else that raised red flags was that not once did she take Detective **Alves'**  bait. She never gave away any specifics of any of the murders. As far as Rae could tell she genuinely didn't know anything. Around the ten-hour mark Selina seemed to get irritated but continued to insist she was innocent and that they had the wrong person. It wasn't until the detectives told her exactly how the murders that been committed did she let up.
A knife across the throat.
Rae didn't take Selina Kyle as a woman who was easily surprised or at least not one to show it. She looked shocked at the revelation. She was silent for a while and seemed to be contemplating something. She finally asked to make her phone call and when she returned she confessed just like that. The investigators accepted the confession without much pushback.
Silently watching Rae watching her be questioned by the police brought Selina back to that day. Admittedly when Batman came to arrest her for the murders she should've realized how bad things were for her. She naively believed that the misunderstanding would be easily rectified. He was Batman after all, the world's greatest detective, and even he believed in her innocence. He just needed to prove it. It shouldn't have been a problem, right? He just needed a little more time.
When Detective Alves told Selina that the men had been found with their throats slashed an icy realization washed over her. It was Holly. It all made sense now. The orphanage, the way their throats were cut... Selina had taught her that move back in the day for self-defense. It was different then. It was dangerous, and they were living on the streets. It was survival. Back then she had never imagined that she would do this. She used her one phone call to talk to Holly and she immediately admitted to the whole thing. She sobbed, said she had made a terrible mistake, and begged Selina to help her. Selina always tried to help Holly.
Selina always told Bruce that she was like a big sister to Holly, and like a big sister she took the fall her. Just like a little sister, Holly took advantage and made Selina her sacrificial lamb, the way Bruce saw it.
Without conferring with anyone Rae stopped the tape and began combing through the so-called evidence against Selina. The evidence against Selina was inconsistent with the facts of the case. The reports all agreed that those who had been murdered had their throats sliced with a knife. The investigators had said that Catwoman's claws had been the weapon of choice. It didn't make any sense. Claw marks wouldn't leave one clean cut; they would've been butchered. The GCPD really did a hack job with this investigation, but in a city like Gotham there was no one to really care.
It was beginning to look like Selina was telling the truth after all.
"Porter deserves to lose reelection for bringing charges with such weak physical evidence," Rae said addressing the room for the first time in over an hour. "You should've taken your chances at trial."
"So, what does this mean?" Bruce asked.
Rae handed Bruce back his tablet.
"I'll need time to really go through everything but as for right now I don't think she did it. If you can provide an alibi for the times of the murders, which detective half-wit failed to ask for during the interview, I can probably get the courts to do a review of the case."
"What's the best-case scenario?"
She shrugged, "Best-case a judge reviews the evidence, or lack thereof. We argue the confession was coerced and get a new trial where a competent attorney will point out the inconsistency of the evidence."
"Excellent," Selina said.
"You'll have to turn yourself in to get retried"
Selina shrugged. "Sure. If things go south I broke out once; I can do it again."
Neither Bruce nor Rae seemed to find that amusing.
"The thing that I can't figure out is why. Why did you confess to a crime you didn't commit?"
"Why did the West Memphis Three confess to a crime they didn't commit?" She asked rhetorically.
Rae didn't say anything, but her eyes narrowed, clearly not satisfied with that answer. She let it go anyway. Selina was obviously a woman of many secrets and Rae didn't expect her to be completely forthcoming. She obviously had her reasons, but legally speaking false confessions were common enough that it might not matter.
"Fine. The important thing here is that if you didn't commit these murders then someone else did."
"Nice detective work, Sherlock. Did you figure that out on your own?" Selina said.
"There's something else," Rae continued ignoring Selina's sarcasm. "Let's say this does get retried. I'd say the odds of you being let go are fifty-fifty. We can provide all the alibis in the world and knock out every piece of evidence, but criminal court is a storytelling contest. Juries are fickle, and they don't like things to go unresolved."
"What are you saying?" Bruce asked. |
6a59c8f64eb74ff6b572805dd22ec41d | ['797c5de1cf81428b910994c4b8880ef7'] |
I am the fire continued
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
* Inspired by LINK by LINK.
It had been 3 weeks since the concert and oh boy were the fans getting annoying. Don't get her wrong she loved the fact people liked her music but still it's a bit much, she would have killed at least two people if it was not for Kaminari they were so vexatious which Kyoka found out was one of the words Denki knew that she did not
The point is she has the boy of her dreams the ones where she thought she would have to deal with him constantly getting bored of studying, But here he was Helping her with English
“Babe your spacing out again”Kaminari points out
“Oh sorry Denki I was just thinking about how much you do for me” Jirou laughs at the absurdity of what she just said
“Me doing stuff for you? Good joke you're the one who got me to 10th place and got Mina to call me a traitor”Kaminari points out defensively as if he did not deserve it
(Author's note:no traitor is not foreshadowing, I am the fire was nothing but fluff and smut so I am following that to a degree, I can't do smut it rubs off on me wrong to write it reading it is fine however weird how my brain works right?)
“Your the reason I'm 4th in class grades for English and besides you need to rest that smart-ass head of yours”Jirou deadpans trying to end the sessions before something bad happens
“What happened to me being a idiot babe? Besides I am sure I could 'cheer you up’”Kaminari stated trying to be funny
“Kaminari Denki I would love to but we have more important things to focus on such as I don't know not dying from a angry Bakugou coming to kill us?” Jirou says while trying to get up
“Oh crap!”Kaminari had forgoten that he had heard a door slam before jirou spaced out
“KNOCK KNOCK YOU FUCKING LIAR’S!”Bakugo yelled at the top of his lungs
“Welp this is how we die”Kaminari just laugh knowing that Bakugou would not kill them internally but damn it was still scary with Jirou being threatened
“Bakugo that is not word usage fitting of a student at UA! You need to lea…..”Iida say’s running up to Bakugou while doing what the two presume is hand motions
“Deus ex Iida to the rescue apparently”Jirou says rolling her eyes harder then needed
“Kyoka I did not know you did jokes about american movie tropes” Kaminari says honestly surprised that Jirou knew enough about american movies to make that jokes
“There is a lot of things you don’t know about me. Mostly around movies in fact” Jirou say’s trying to sound mysterious but failing miserably
“Movie night then”Kaminari said knowing there is one surefire way to get info out of Jirou: when she is watching a movie, she always talks without thinking.
“Sure” Jirou in truth just wanted more time to think about what to write in the song
“.... they have been doing nothing but lying to the whole class for the past year! Your telling me that does not piss you off!” saying Bakugou was pissed would be a criminal understatement at this point his voice was so hoarse he stopped yelling
“Kachan did you consider that they might have been studying and not lying to all of us?”Midoriya asked hoping to defuse the situation between Bakugou and Iida
“OY SHUT UP SHITTY DEKU” Bakugou yelled, outraged that Midoriya might be right again
“And there goes any romantic air to the night”Kamiari pouted letting it show plainly on his face
“Yeah, I bet Iida ran off to get Aizawa-sensei”Jirou made a point out of laughing
“No doubt”Kaminari agreed happy it was not him facing there teacher's death stare for once
“So what shall we start with”jirou realised the trap she walked into as soon as she said ‘start with’
“Well I mean we could watch Hercules on Netflix” Kaminari lamented asking to watch the old show one piece instead but did not want to risk a new scar from her jacks
“You just what to hear me sing”Jirou accused
“Guilty as charged though it is a good movie”Kaminari admitted
“...”the silence went on for a good 10 seconds
“What are you waiting for get the movie started!”Jirou knew this would be a terrible thing and just wanted to get it over with not even paying attention to the last part
“I waiting for your response and besides you never told me how that song was going so I just wanted to hear you sing again!”Kaminari pouted
“Fine get it started Pikachu”Jirou said just trying to will away the blush forming on her cheeks
“Your never going to let me live that down are you?”Kaminari said with a sly grin
“Nope”this caused Kaminari to snicker instantly filling Jirou with dread
“Good because I am going to change into Pikachu pajamas”now this elicited a very negative reaction from Jirou
“Oh god Denki please tell me you did not”this time Kaminari burst out laughing
“Yes yes I did”Kaminari knew Jirou was blushing like mad when she said Idiot in response and he went out of the room to put them on and prove it
**Author's Note:**
> Hello everyone It’s your friendly neighborhood USER! I made a promise to make this and here it is (it was supposed to be my 10th action on my account but god damn it there were too many things to give kudos and bookmarks to!) anyway’s hope you enjoyed the fanfic of a fanfic | 0e762938e5c14756a732471559239358 | ['797c5de1cf81428b910994c4b8880ef7'] |
1. The first day
**Author's Note:**
> Hello I came up with this idea at like 11 at night so it might not be the most polished in the world but that's it with all things after all
“Hello welcome to UA's preschool for hero's! The best place for said aspiring hero's to go! What's your names’?” a brown haired receptionist asks cheerily
“Kyouka jirou!” a 5 year old girl responds seemingly giddly at going to preschool
“Kaminari denki!” a 5 year old boy replies so chearily it makes the girl sound snarky
“He asked me idiot not you!” the girl cuts back annoyed
“He asked both of us!” the boy says
“Astute observation kaminari now let's see here… oh my you two are in the same class even sitting next to each other! Play nice you two!”the receptionist says in a voice that implies or else
“Wait mister I may ask a question?”kaminari asks
“Of course what is it?”the receptionist replies
“What's your quirk?”kaminari says with a bit of difficulty at the end
“It's called forced telepathy it can only affect one or two people but hey it helps a lot with forcing those we don't want to stop to what there doing!”he replies smiling even more if that was possible
“That's really cool! Show us some time please!”kamnari says with star's in his eyes
“Hey why are you lumping me in? I just want to go to class!”jirou pushes back with much better language then kaminari
“don’t pretend you don't want to see it to!” Kaminari replies
“...I don't think your going to have a good time keeping up that train of thought.” Jirou counter’s raising her jack in preparation to strike
“hey! No need to get aggressive!”kaminari says back away
“i agree with kaminari here Ms.jirou but you are correct time to get to class.”the man says subtly defusing the situation
“Where is our class mister?”kaminari asks distracted enough to drop the subject
“you would be in the he- happy butterfly classroom come on I will walk you to it,” the receptionist says going towards a door with a butterfly on it(it's not happy though)
“Who are our clasmaies?” Kaminari asks somehow messing classmates and not mister up
“You will have to find out!”the receptionist replies in a voice so fake even kaminari notices it.
“your weird,”both jirou and kaminari say at the same time.
“You don't know the half of it,”the receptionist grumbles as he shows them to the class room where a guy is lassoing a little girl down from the ceiling a boy has a tail(!) And there is a floating set of clothes.
“I take it back… you're not weird, this is weird,”jirou says noticing the room
“Shouta enjoy my money is on 9 years,”the receptionist passes the man lassoing the girl a wad of cash
“High school year one? Why then?”the man replies finally getting the capture weapon around the child
“That would ruin the surprise,”the receptionist says with a devious grin on his face.
“Fair,”the man states while pulling in the girl and starts sporting a grin of his own
“Kaminari denki? Kyouka jirou? You two are in the adjoining seats,” he says as he turns to address the two of them...
This is going to be a interesting year they both thought at the same time
2. scores and start of a tournament!
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The title should be the only summary you need
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Another * short chapter but this has elements that need to be taken in
>
> Also i know i messed up at least 1 name not sure where but I did
After jirou and kaminari get settled the man starts talking with a semi normal look on his face
“Hello class I am aizawa and I will be your teacher for the next 13 years of your life, yuiea preschool is actually hard to get into so be happy you passed… You know what it will just be easier to show the entrance exam's scores considering that you guy's all encountered the robots”
A screen pops up though it is not what anyone expected
1.kaminari denki 10 villain points 20 rescue points
1.jirou kyouka 5 villain points 25 rescue points
2.todoroki shouto 22 villain points
3.midoriya izuku 4 villain points 17 rescue points
4.tokoyami fukigami 7 villain points 10 rescue points
5 rekido Sato 6 villain points 1 rescue point
6.tysu asui 5 rescue points
7.uraraka ochako 4 rescue points
8.shinsou hitoshi 3 villain points
9.sero hanata 2 rescue points
9.shoji mezo 1 villian point 1 rescue point
9.hagakure tooru 2 rescue points
9.ojiro mashirao 2 villain points
9.Iida tenya 1 villain point 1 rescue point
9.Yaurozo Momo 2 rescue points
9.Bakugou Katsuki 10 villain points -8 rescue points
9.kirishima eijiro 1 villain point 1 rescue point
9.ashido mina 1 villian point 1 one rescue point
10.aoyama yuuga 1 villain point 0.5 rescue points
“As you all can see the top got there because they focused on helping others to dangerous extreme's,,,” aizawa says aiming a glare at kaminari who was only saved by aoyama taking out the 1 pointer going for him
“While the number 2 focused on stopping the robots that is not a winning strategy you need to learn to protect others before stopping villains otherwise you will end up cornered and dead” the receptionist says as he stands in the doorway
“Then of course there is the case of bakugou kasuksi who actively went sabotaging other people and as such got punished for it, kaminari denki jirou kyouka please come to the front” |
187f4843fc3c4debb35367f277a0df9a | ['798091ea849c4ed7a9b3fb260e9eee97'] |
Quest for Knowledge
Level C:
Canas: Excuse me, you are lord Lyon correct?
Lyon: No need to be so formal, we are allies and equals around here, what is your name?
Canas: Oh I am Canas! I am ever on my quest for knowledge and saw you practice the same elder magic as I do and wanted to ask you about it!
Lyon: Sure, go ahead, I understand the drive to quench one’s thirst at the fountain of wisdom so I‘d be happy to provide answers as long as I can answer you.
Canas: Oh thanks a lot Sir Lyon, well you see I wanted to inquire about the magic you had used on the battlefield, it seemed incredibly potent and I had only seen a very few mages in my lifetime utilize such a spell, may you tell me of it‘s origins?
Lyon: The spell I am wielding on the battlefield, Naglfar, is one of my own making. I created it in the likeness of one of Grado‘s holy twins and to surpass it‘s power in case I needed to wield it on the battlefield. I once heard a story that it is potent enough to open gates to other worlds, similar to the power of the Askrans we are serving.
Canas: Excuse me for a second, you created such a spell by your very self? I know that even my mother who wrote countless of tomes on the topic of dark magic only created a few spells in her very lifetime that surpassed the lower tiers, such as the Luna spell known in my world. But creating such an incredibly strong power by yourself, what did that cost?
Lyon: The creation of the spell? It cost me nothing, it was child‘s play to make the tome and write down every last necessary bit that involves the casting of the spell. But the way to aquire it? My way to the power that led me in this tome‘s creation? It cost me everything. My research cost me the ultimate price and I paid it well. Yet I stand here, surrounded by the very people that I used the spell against. But enough of that. Canas I have my own question, are you not afraid of using the dark arts?
Canas: In all honesty, I am indeed afraid of delving deeper into the abyss of darkness but yet, I must see what is on the other side, my curiosity simply does not allow me to not find out what is waiting behind the veil. My brothers might have succumbed to it and I might as well, but it does not matter as long as it sates my hunger for knowledge.
Lyon: I see, I feel the need to ask you what brought you to me, what brought you here?
Canas: The summoner of course! Or so I believe? It is a little hazy but I think I do remember waking up at the location where the summoner creates portals with his weapon to bring new heroes into this world that will fight with the kingdom of Askr!
Lyon: Spare that, I meant what brings you to me, I do not think that it was Naglfar alone that sparked your curiosity and made you seek me out in these halls. Speak, what brought you to me?
Canas: Well, there is something, in the back of my head. Something that feels like a very very faint voice. At first I surely ignored it and I think I can not hear it anymore, but yet it somehow drew me towards you.
Lyon: I must formally ask you to leave.
Canas: Excuse me what?
Lyon: Leave, now and do not dare to come back.
B:
Lyon: I can feel your presence there Canas. You either come out and talk to me or walk into the opposite direction as fast as you can.
Canas: Ah lord Lyon, I am very sorry to interrupt you like this but I have yet another question that demands answers.
Lyon: Then please make it quick, I do not want you in my presence any longer, I even demanded the summoner not to have us together on the battlefield anymore and yet I can always feel your presence around me. I do not want you to be influenced by me any longer.
Canas: Well now, not to become inquisitive but the last time we talked you said a few thing that brought up a lot of concern in me that demanded further investigation from my side. I just can not leave you alone until you have not told me all about you and the very research that led to you having to take up arms against the friends you are now surrounded by.
Lyon: If it satisfies you, I tried my hands on experiments that would break the very laws of nature. We both know that dark magic has unique properties, the sacred tome of Grado for example, Gleipnir, can manipulate gravity and compress space momentarily. So with this knowledge I delved deeper into researching the dark arts, and me and my fellow researchers were able to predict the future, thanks to both knowledge of nature and to the dark arts. As you see, the true nature of dark magic is knowledge itself.
Canas: Yes so I heard as well. While Anima magic stems from one’s soul and light magic stems from faith to the gods, dark magic originates in the knowledge of the workings of the world. Or so I always suspected but...
Lyon: But what? | 95aece57a444452bbc886d44c2ab3ec0 | ['798091ea849c4ed7a9b3fb260e9eee97'] | The knight now equipped his towering shield, made of a strange metal that can only be melted under the full moon. Some people called it moonstone, others called it magicite. In both circumstances it was a very useful and sturdy, but very rare metal, he got the ore once as a reward from a researcher and gave it to his friend the smith to make the shield.
The dragon slayer slowly walked into the cave, amazed by depth of the subterranean area he almost did not notice the sparkling jewel on one of the walls.
He slowly approached the shimmering stone and took it out of the wall but it aburptly lost the light it emitted as he took it out. Without further ado he put it in one of his bags to sell it later or have it infused with a spell by a magician.
As he went further he noticed more and more of the precious stones on the walls until all sides shimmered in all colors of the spectrum known to the human eye.
When the man drew nearer the path never forked but right now he noticed that the walls got closer and the ceiling was a lot lower than it was when he entered the cave.
Now he saw something, a silhouette lingering on a pile of pillows, bathing in the radiance emitted by the walls.
Was it a hostage? Or the beast itself? The slayer had a bad feeling but before he could get close enough the creature twitched.
A tail rose but with all other attributes the creature looked more like a human being.
The knight knew what that creature was and put down his sword, but before he could speak the Bestial began to utter words.
“Man of the gods, slayer of dragons what do you seek here?” The creature had a very deep, male voice and sounded angered.
“Why do you dare to lay foot into this sacred mountain? How do you explain your exploit of my weakest point in the whole year and what is your motive to collect these sacred stones?”
The humanoid dragon now stood right before the knight. It was a head taller than him and had pure white scales that reflected the shimmer of the stones which overflew the cave. He had two big horns on his forehead that curved behind his head. His eyes had as many colors as the cave itself, ever shifting with the moves the creature made.
Forran was speechless for a second but found his center once more. He cleared his throat and answered in a low tone.
“I am sorry, bestial one. I was hired to kill the creature that guarded this cave to pave the way for miners to quarry the stones of the caves.”
The dragon became more furious and hissed at the intruder.
“You are not welcome here. No one is welcome here. I have to guard this cave in the name of the god Terrakon! These gems contain the ability to awaken the true potential of everyone who touches them. Humans and Bestials alike could become the greatest threat this planet has seen so far. Only a chosen few shall be granted one of these stones and you are not one of them!”
The knight found himself in thoughts, he began asking the questions which he collected while the other spoke.
“Before I go, I have a few questions. First, if this is truly a place blessed by one of the gods, why have it guarded by a Bestial and not a human? I am not a religious man but most people say that we humans are closest to the gods. Second, what is this potentials that can be awakened and why is it a threat to the balance of the world and third, are you all alone here? What do you eat and drink?”
The other one sighed but lost some his innate aggressiveness. He pointed towards the pile of pillows that he rested on before.
“Since you do not seem to be interested in killing me anymore, nor into taking any of the jewels come I will answer your questions.”
They both went to the silky pile of cushions and sat down. Even though he appeared calm, Forran was very thrilled. He always dreamt of meeting a Bestial but he didn't have the chance to see one outside of the books and pictures.
He was lost in the marvelous scales, and eyes the creature possessed, but also fascinated by the its muscular body, which was not covered in scales but instead in a reptilian hide. He studied the half dragon until he began to speak and answer the questions of the man.
“It is a very justifiable question, both us Bestials as well as you Humans were created by the gods, but you are more modeled after them, while we are supposed to be links to the nature. That is why I guard this place, I am the guardian of this miracle of the gods, a wonder of nature, guarded by the avatar of earth. Second the potential these stones awaken is not easily described. You also do not seem to be a magic user, so I will try to be as understandable as possible. A magician takes his power from the root of all magic, it is not a place that really exists but more a concept of energy that is everywhere. A living being needs to materialize this energy through his body, into a catalyst and then give it form, when casting a spell of chaotic nature.
Normally a human being is limited by their bodies and the catalyst they use, but if one of these gems is used as a catalyst the magic can be directly used from the root into the stone and then give it form, thus giving the caster unlimited energy to work with.
Bestials on the other hand can use the stone to destroy the energy that holds our humanoid and our animal forms apart. With one of these stones you could create a simple army made of our people it is a very destructive power, since every Bestial that shifts into their wild form has far bigger size than the animals you are used to.
And yes I am guarding this place all alone and I simply feed on the energy provided by the gemstones and the water that drops down here from the top of the mountain.”
It was very interesting to listen to the Bestial for the Dragon Slayer and as he came to a close he stood up. Even though the sight of the creature was a sight to behold he had to go.
“I was ordered to kill a dragon, but you are not a mindless beast who hoards treasure but an important guardian of nature. I can tell my client that I could not kill you and that even the biggest groups of hunters would fail to get you down. I have to thank you and hopefully your quest will be fulfilled.”
Ferron bowed to the dragon and went outside. He was blinded by the light as he left the beautiful cave. He regretted that he never actually asked for the name of the guardian, but he would definitely remember him. The sun was still shining in the sky and he began to wander towards the village. The first thing he would need now was a bath and to take care of a little problem he got. |
1bdaa2141d6246dbaee6b373a60b9c1a | ['799555f211424d87b0e32622595ea0ff'] | The girl turned sharply and regarded him with dark eyes cautiously, wrinkling her nose. Yes, it was Eponine, the girl who lived above the cafe with her plucky brat of a brother. She then rolled her shining but sleepy eyes and slouched against the brown walls. Her pretty face was framed with glossy black hair.
"Well if it isn't the rally-crasher," she said with a half-smile. "Fancy seeing you here again."
"I can't believe the manager of this place doesn't kick them out," Grantaire raised his voice again so she could hear him over the din. "It's like they're about to riot!"
"They're probably planning some sort of march. Besides," she shrugged delicately and smoothed out her green-grey pinafore. The logo was printed on the fabric: a coffee mug accompanied by the cliché croissant, with the words 'Cafe l’ABC' printed in a faux calligraphy font below it. "Boss says it brings in a good profit."
Grantaire laughed. The 'Boss' was her father. He had a reputation for never deciding on the cost of their produce; it changed almost weekly. He had a way with the customers, charmed them, babied them, made them his friends. Eponine didn't have much love for him.
"Hey, R, is Marius here?" she asked suddenly, not making eye contact with him but instead scouring the sea of heads for the haircut of the rich boy. "Did Courf say anything? He's squatting with him at the moment. Got into another spat with his dick grandpa. Thought he could do with some comforting. I'm...worried, y'know?" There was a tenderness in her eyes Grantaire recognised like he was looking in a mirror.
"How do you know all that?"
She shrugged again. "I know a lot of stuff." An elbow jabbed into his ribs. "Your boyfriend's looking at you."
He wanted to retort with "he's not my boyfriend", but Eponine had melted into the swarm of uncomfortably warm bodies. Grantaire stared at Enjolras, who stared back, expression ambiguous, stoic, verging on the edge of severity and wildness. He was an animal, bristling with over-confidence and ready to rip apart any idiotic opinion that stood in his way.
Combeferre was then looking at him, and waved. "R! Hey, guys, R's here! R, get over here!"
"Does he have wine?" Courf asked eagerly.
"Did he wash his hair this time?" Joly wittered petulantly.
"R!" Combeferre wriggled down from the chair, the hands of strangers groping at his ankles and lower legs, trying to support him. “R! Over here!”
"Hey, guys," Courf addressed those in front of him and parted his arms as though he were commanding a sea. "Can you let our friend through? Thanks guys! R! Come on!"
He found Grantaire's shoulder in the melee and yanked him to the table.
"Sorry there's not really any seats," Combeferre apologised. "Kind of busy here. Great fun, though!"
“Yeah…” Grantaire nodded, and was aware of the foreign bodies around him. No wonder Joly got squeamish.
Enjolras was still staring at him.
“Is your speech over, O mighty highness?” Grantaire asked with mock politeness, shooting the sniggering friends a smug wink.
“Mm. Yes. I was just about to enjoy the company of my friends, actually,” his voice was a hostile, firm scold. Grantaire inhaled sharply, but kept his cool.
“Then what are you waiting for?!” he chuckled. “Drink with us!”
He saw the hate in the eyes of the protestor and he winced inwardly as the ice blade slid further into his heart. But it was good. The hate kept him striving. But if only he could get a smile. He wanted to be an equal, too.
_Drink with me. Sit with me. Be with-_
“Enjolras is a fucking hypocrite! You say you fight for equality and freedom and you plan marches, sure, but you only care about one side! You don’t care about how we feel when we feel differently to you! You say shit about Enjolras and you don’t get a look in, huh? We are left to rot and left unheard because of you! And don’t try to get your friends to take me out, I know you don’t care how many of them get arrested or hurt for your stupid ‘causes’. You just care about your own glory, you communist dickhead!”
The voice echoed across the café basement like it was the speaking of a god. Everyone fell deathly silent in an instant. Muffled mumbling bubbled here and there and heads turned to find the speaker.
It was a tall man with red hair lacquered to his forehead. He clenched his fingers into fists, brow furrowed, creating trench-like creases between his eyes. He was fuming. People moved away from him, wary, wondering if there was going to be a fight. He looked older than any of them. All eyes were on Enjolras, who merely pressed his lips into a thin line. That was a habit, Grantaire noticed.
“Who are you?” he asked at last, perfectly calm.
“My name isn’t important, my reason is,” the stranger replied, hostile.
Enjolras smirked. If they were on the same side, they could have been brothers.
“I don’t appreciate your intrusion,” Enjolras continued.
“I don’t appreciate your leadership. I will never side with you.”
Enjolras’ nearly bared his teeth. “Leave. Now.”
“Only when these people know the truth about you! You’re nothing but an obnoxious spreader of hate. You’re no better than the ones you oppose! By uprising, you only oppress!”
Combeferre moved closer to the stranger. “Okay, we understand, and we’re sorry we troubled you, but you have to go now, please?” he urged softly.
“But he’s not sorry!” the stranger yelled, and struck Combeferre in the stomach, knocking the wind from him and Jehan rushed to his side. “And you’re just another one of his blind soldiers!”
“Do you know this guy, Enj?” Courf enquired in a hushed whisper, and Enjolras shook his head minutely. | a983968dbab749a5b9dc647faf2c4f84 | ['799555f211424d87b0e32622595ea0ff'] | _“Find his sensitive spot and make him whimper. Don’t you wonder what kind of noise he’d make? Once you’ve pinned him down, after he’s tried to fight back. ‘Cos you know he would. Think he’d scream? I do,” he turned his attention to a clearly bristling Enjolras. “I bet you’re a screamer, Enj. Louder than you realise. Make the neighbours horny just listening to you.”_
_“Can we not discuss this?” Enjolras asked quietly._
_“Courf, quit teasing,” Joly warned, noticing the discomfort between the two in question. Funny, he never spilled the details on his adventures. He hadn’t spoken of his relationships much. Nobody questioned them; he seemed happy and that was what mattered._
_“Yeah, I have to sleep in the same place as the guy,” Combeferre said. “Do you have any idea what he’s like when he’s flustered? I won’t get any sleep.”_
_“Oh, c’mon, I’m just messing with them.”_
_Cosette moved off of Marius. Courf clicked his tongue, victorious. Grantaire kicked his shoulder. Despite knowing it was just banter, it still made him anxious and extremely hot under the collar. He crossed his legs the best he could and rolled his sleeves further up his shoulders, even though he was wearing a tee. He couldn’t even bear to look at Enjolras, knowing he’d probably gone the same shade as the posters he made. He felt disgraced, soiled. How could Courf just bring something like that up so casually? In front of his muse? Yes, he was just verbalising his exact train of subconscious, but it made him out to be a lustful predator, a person he did not want come across as. It was different when he said those things, but anyone else? He felt shameful. His Apollo would never see him in a respectful light._
Despite constant observation, Grantaire hadn't felt the urge for violence, no such heaves of venom had kickstarted something primal in his mind in recent times. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this. He was pleased Enjolras was alright, but in some ways he felt just as ignored and empty. He needed to feel capable. The anger made him bristle, turned him into a monster fit only for Victorian literature. When he was mad, he was wild. As savage as his Antinous. But no threats were posed to his muse, no idiots tried to take him down a peg or two. He seemed safe and at the top of his game and gave off a light so astounding, Grantaire was sure it would be described as angelic. However, there were bouts of deflation, as though, for some sickening reason, the light wasn’t enough. As though he needed more than just Enjolras’ illuminations to sustain him. This frightened him, and so he pushed it to the back of his tumultuous mind to fester. The only solution was that he just needed to make the light shine even brighter, to turn it from a star, to a sun.
_The sun will burn you, Toad. Burn you into dust._
**
There was smoke on his tongue and Joly's voice broke him out of a daydream.
"R! That stuff will kill you! Don't you know what's in those things?! You’re making yourself vulnerable to loads of conditions from blowing those!" he lectured desperately, seizing the cigarette from Grantaire's stained hands, tossing it to the granite ground and crushing it beneath his shoes. Even with his change of lifestyle, Grantaire still found himself succumbing to the vague stupors brought on by smoking.
Grantaire huffed and thrust his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. "Rich coming from the guy who's probably caught an STD from all those threesomes you've been having," he countered moodily, mooching against the wall of the school flanked by trashcans, making rubbery noises with his lips. What was Joly doing around this part anyway? Everyone knew this was where junkies went to get their fixes, and Grantaire was no different. This place was like Pandemonium for Joly’s kind.
Joly scowled, but there was no hiding the brilliant scarlet that darkened his cheeks. "I haven't, and, and it's none of your business anyway. Jeez, I'm just looking out for your health." he said through gritted teeth.
Grantaire only pulled his hat further down his head, flattening his hair, scuffing his shoes on the pavement. His trainers were wrecked. He didn’t care for his lessons anymore. He was feeling drained and lifeless. He wanted to talk to Enjolras, but he didn’t know how to, without seeming too forward. Or, in other words, too out of character. Enjolras was too focussed on his own lectures anyway about how lame the government was. Had they ever been anything else?
Spots of rain made damp dots on his sleeves and his trousers, and Joly squinted at the grey clouds above them. Spring showers were turning into April floods.
"Are you coming to class?" Joly pestered. "The others are wondering where you are. Sent me to come and get you. Thought you'd be here."
Grantaire's glare was steely. "Fine. Whatever."
A bell sounded. Joly left without him; he felt uneasy around Grantaire, something about him had become unsettling. More rain fell, staining Grantaire's skin like tears or acid. He sighed and made for class.
** |
ad33692951fd49c3bb44f698c7eaf14e | ['799baf870f7a4beba4ee95bb3d78a5f6'] | Family of Matching Onesies
**Author's Note:**
> I wanted more family content and boom! THIS was born.
Aizawa Shota was going to die. It would be a glorious death from an overdose of unfair cute behavior from his husband. Aizawa Toshinori—All Might, was sleeping on their sofa in a bunny onesie! Curled up in the man’s lap was their daughter: Eri wearing an equally adorable onesie with rabbit ears but a cat tail!
SleeplessNights: @CockatooBlues, please explain to me how I landed this adorable disaster of a man.
CockatooBlues: As I recall you took the time to get him to open up and grow used to affection to a point he’s functional. Why?
SleeplessNights: [SleeplessNights has sent BunnyMight.jpg]
CockatooBlues: OMG! I didn’t think he’d ever ACTUALLY wear it!
SleeplessNights: Explain. NOW.
CockatooBlues: Okay, okay. So, me and Nemuri were out shopping back before you were together right? We go by this independently owned shop that makes cute onesies for all ages out of quality materials. We see this huge golden-yellow bunny onesie and instantly think it’d be a great gag gift for All Might.
SleeplessNights: @CallMeMistress, please tell me you didn’t plan on getting me and Toshinori together in advance to it actually happening.
CallMeMistress: @SleeplessNights, I love you Shouta but it is way too early in the morning to be called out. Just scrolled up the chat. No, didn’t plan on you being an item that far in advance. I literally thought ‘he’d be too embarrassed to wear this it is the perfect gag welcome to the staff gift’. OwO It looks so cute on him! Eri’s is too cute for words!
SleeplessNights: I better get off the phone and make breakfast. I doubt Toshinori is planning to wake up anytime soon.
CallMeMistress: Okay. Go take care of your family. I gotta go attempt to rescue the disaster that is Midoriya Izuku from his atrocious fashion sense before his date.
SleeplessNights: Good luck.
“Mm…Shota?”
“Yeah, I’m home Toshi. Do you think you can stomach eggs if I make them?” Shota asked, knowing that sometimes his husband’s body was picky about what it consumed. A sleepy smile lit the blond’s face as he sat up still cuddling their daughter.
“I think I can manage. Oh, before I forget again, look in that bag on my rocking chair. We have something for you.”
The fact that Toshinori was smiling broadly usually meant trouble. Shota approached the bag with trepidation and reached inside, pulling forth a black cat onesie. Without a word he walked into their bedroom and changed into it, returning to see Eri shrieking happily and running towards him.
“Now I look like daddy and papa!”
Toshinori and Shota just smiled as they both lifted her up and cradled her between them. It was then that Shota noticed her onesie had small patches of yellow interspersed with the black. Eri knew they loved her as theirs but hearing her excitement over the matching family of onesies and realizing that Toshinori had likely done this intentionally to further solidify that feeling of ‘family’ that all three of them had longed for a small tear rolled down a pale cheek.
“Shota? Is something wrong?”
“No. Everything is perfect. Do you know why?” Shota didn’t bother stopping the happy tears from sliding down his cheeks as he kisses Toshi sweetly then Eri’s forehead. The answer came from the sweet little girl who loved her dads.
“Everything is perfect becauseWE ARE HERE!” | a9340286cade4c76b4c80a1c7a3131fb | ['799baf870f7a4beba4ee95bb3d78a5f6'] | “The moment I was released from the hospital I started brushing it every morning usually to no avail. It was always fairly hard to tame though. Even in my younger days it didn’t like to behave.” Toshinori answered with a soft laugh, amused by the question. From his perspective Aizawa, Yamada and Kayama had way more hair to deal with.
“I’m worried the brush may not be able to get all your roots. Do you mind if I use my fingers to reach?”
“Only if you’re sure you don’t mind me turning into a puddle in the common room.” Toshinori knew his body. The scalp was especially sensitive, more so than any other part of his body save his neck and injured side. Toshinori hadn’t known about that particular weak point until the second time Dave helped him with his hair. Dave panicked thinking he’d hurt Toshi when he went limp until Anne, his fiancé giggled and just informed him that Toshinori was just incredibly relaxed bordering on sleep.
“As long as you can evaporate back into a functional adult long enough to tap my leg to warn me that you can’t verbalize it’s fine.”
Toshinori couldn’t help that chuckle. Aizawa could be pretty funny in a subtle way that he appreciated. It helped that he already felt relaxed.
“I can definitely manage that much.”
Aizawa set the brush down and set to work, gently running his fingers through the roots before pressing directly against the scalp to relax the deeper roots. Almost instantly the blond began to melt against his legs. Yagi hadn’t exaggerated his reaction. It had to be frustrating, longing for touch but being so damn adversed to it when it wasn’t your decision. Aizawa wondered if he should stop and convince the blond to head to bed just as Nemuri walked over with her own drink and sat to his left, careful not to touch Yagi. Aizawa hoped she intended to let the man know she was there but he needn’t have worried. Yagi managed an almost boneless wave with his un-casted hand in an almost lazy greeting.
“Evening to you too Yagi. When you’re done melting I need your opinion on an outfit okay?”
Toshinori had enough function left to give her a thumbs up before succumbing to the sensation of Aizawa’s hands soothing the roots to his bangs. Even after more than twenty years, he had never been able to stop abusing them as Gran Torino had asked him several times. Having the nerves soothed brought the memory back of a time the man had threatened to give him an American soldier cut. By that time Toshinori had grown fonder of his hair and started sitting on his hands to try not pulling at his bangs but the habit was almost as old as he was.
“So, when did you start running your future shopping trips by Yagi?”
Aizawa kept his focus on Yagi, always checking subtly to make sure he wasn’t overdoing it by giving the man’s thigh a nudge with his foot. Yagi would shift slightly as if letting him know he was fine but wouldn’t react past that after the single tap to the knee to alert him he would be unlikely to respond with words. Nemuri smiled, relieved to see Yagi so relaxed even with her joining them.
“Let’s see, I think it was shortly before the I-Island incident. I was looking at a magazine for a new casual outfit when Yagi politely asked if he could make a suggestion. Turned out to be a great suggestion, the man is great with color combinations. Yagi helped me pick that maroon and black ensemble.”
“I’ve never known you to care about anyone else’s opinions on clothes Nemuri.” Aizawa really didn’t. Nemuri was notoriously picky about what she wore outside of her private spaces, but it did make sense for Yagi to have picked out the outfit. Nemuri didn’t usually pick out turtleneck sweaters even if it had looked fantastic on her with her hair up. Even Mt.Lady had complimented how the look turned out.
_Yet the man can’t dress himself in things that actually fit properly or look good with his skin tone._ Aizawa blinked at that thought and how harsh it sounded and was thankful he did not say it aloud.
“The only reason I don’t listen to you or Hizashi about clothing is that neither of you factor in the fact that I am a woman with bit of a bust. Hizashi always suggests things that are too restrictive and you generally don’t care as long as it is easy to move in and comfortable. Yagi factored in what fabrics would work best with my body and what colors he knows look good on me. Much more helpful and he doesn’t look put upon when I ask him to help.” Nemuri smiled, shifting to wave a hand in front of Toshinori to get the blond’s attention. Slowly he turned his head the smallest amount possible to see what she wanted.
“Is it okay if I go put your cup in the sink so you can wash it later or did you plan to have more tea?”
Toshinori followed her signing even as he unconsciously leaned further into Aizawa’s touch and managed to hold up two fingers, hoping she understood him.
“Okay. Glad my signing isn’t that rusty. I’ll go refill the kettle while you finish melting. Shota, don’t let him melt too long. Not only will your fingers not take it, but Yagi might shock himself into thinking he’s troubling you.”
“Don’t worry Nemuri, I’m almost done with the last stubborn section of hair. Honestly, I think half your stubbornness comes from your hair Yagi.” Aizawa was graced with a chuckle the grew into a heartfelt laugh as Yagi regained his ability to move and turned his head to look over his shoulder with a smile. |
e8a56c17e04a4a9793536b5f2209c06a | ['79a08d6f1e78472c84d015c34f40b9d3'] | A block later, Gazzy gripped Iggy’s hand and pulled harder. “He’s _still there_.”
“What the fuck,” Iggy murmured.
“There’s a park up ahead, maybe we can take off,” Gazzy suggested.
“Let’s go,” Iggy said, and the two of them started running down the sidewalk.
Gazzy glanced behind them and sped up, “Iggy, he’s gaining on us.”
“Is he running?” Iggy asked, confused, because he couldn’t hear the man’s footsteps on the hard concrete.
“No. I don’t know. He’s just walking, but somehow he’s getting closer,” Gazzy said, just as confused as Iggy.
“Let’s _go_ , Gazzy,” Iggy said, pushing him forward. They sprinted toward the park, running across the street, just as a car turned the corner. Brakes screeched and the car honked at them, but Gazzy kept running. They ran through the gates of the park, onto the lawn, towards a small stand of trees in the far corner.
“Are there people here?” Iggy asked, though he could hear no one.
Gazzy glanced around the park. “Coast is clear.” He looked over his shoulder, only to find there was no one there. The man was gone.
“And I don’t see the guy anymore I think--” Gazzy said as he turned back around, ready to take off, and nearly ran into the very same man they’d been running from. Gazzy yanked Iggy’s arm, hard, and pulled him to a stop as they stood face to face with the mysterious man.
“Iggy, he’s right in front of us.” Gazzy whispered.
“I know,” Iggy replied, standing straighter, as he slowly reached out, placing his hand on the chest of the man.
“Get your filthy hand off of me, you disgusting mongrel,” the stranger spat, and Iggy withdrew his hand, dropping it at his side, gazing at the individual before them.
“Iggy, what is it?” Gazzy asked under his breath.
“I can...see you,” Iggy murmured. Gazzy’s jaw dropped open.
The man stared Iggy down, only to realize his eyes were pale, cloudy, useless. He chuckled mockingly. “I nearly forgot about you: the poor blind boy. You wouldn’t last a day alone, would you? We should have gotten rid of you years ago.”
Iggy’s fists clenched and Gazzy looked back and forth between the two as the man continued. “Always reliant on your--what do you call yourselves? The Flock? How anthropomorphic of you.”
“I may be blind, but I am not helpless,” Iggy spoke, still staring at the man.
“Iggy, you can see him?” Gazzy asked, grabbing Iggy’s arm and tugging on it to get his attention.
Iggy blinked, unseeing, but somehow still acutely aware of the glowing presence of this... _thing_ , a creature too powerful to even fathom. Amongst the light, he could distinguish four heads and several pairs of wings.
Realization dawned on Iggy and his manner changed completely. “It’s you,” he said, accusing, threatening.
“Me what?” The man replied, annoyed at the simplemindedness of these boys.
“You took Fang.” Iggy accused, voice low, even, and angry.
The creature laughed again. “No, you stupid little boy, I did not.”
“I saw you.” Iggy said, as Gazzy pulled on the sleeves of his T-shirt.
“Iggy, what are you talking about? Who is he?” Gazzy asked, just as Iggy clenched his fist and rammed it right smack in the middle of the mass of light.
The man gasped, whether in shock or in pain, Iggy wasn’t sure, but he reacted in the blink of an eye, punching Iggy in the gut and sending him sprawling onto the grass, still damp from the morning dew. Gazzy clenched his jaw and took off, jumping into the air, and spreading his wings. Iggy slowly picked himself up, wiping grass off his hands onto his jeans as the man approached him again.
“Iggy, let’s go!” Gazzy yelled from above, circling out of reach of the stranger but close enough to be of assistance if needed.
“I’m doing this for Fang,” Iggy spat out as he once again leapt for the man, the figure of light. He wasn’t sure what this creature was, but one thing was certain: he wasn’t human.
“Fang is far out of your reach,” the man laughed as he deflected Iggy’s blows and threw him to the ground.
“What have you done to him? Who are you?” Iggy yelled, as he jumped up and started circling the man. As terrifying as this being appeared, he was just a bully. “You’re an even bigger jerk than the psychopaths who created us in the first place, and considering what they’ve done to me, that’s a pretty fucking spectacular feat,” he yelled.
“Oh, get over your pity party,” he scorned. “So you can’t see? Boo hoo! Big deal! Get over yourself!”
“But. I. Can. See. You.” Iggy said, punctuating each word with a blow to this monstrous creature. On the last word, Iggy launched himself at him and delivered a flying kick to the groin. The man stumbled backwards and lost his balance. For a moment, Iggy stood triumphant, but before he could even register it coming towards him, the creature was inches away from his face.
“Really? You think that will hurt me? _Me_ ?” Iggy looked taken aback, and the man continued, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper. “I am an _angel of the Lord_. You don’t want to be on my naughty list, boy. I can end you just like that.” As he finished speaking, he snapped his fingers, and an invisible force barreled into Iggy like a freight train, casting him into the ground and knocking the breath from his lungs.
Iggy struggled to sit up, taking deep, gasping breaths, but his muscles would not obey and he collapsed on the ground, gazing up at the form of light and power that stood over him. If someone combined all of the horrors he had witnessed in his seventeen short years of life, it would still not be as terrifying as what he now faced. | 3ff6793e26264edaa204ac33f954dd56 | ['79a08d6f1e78472c84d015c34f40b9d3'] | All of my senses are off the walls heightened, and yet, everything is dull, colorless, and blurry. There’s some instinct inside me that I keep trying to push away, but what if I just give in?
I shake my head and Fang’s scream seems to echo inside my head. Was it just a dream, a nightmare? A vision of a man in a trenchcoat snapping his fingers, followed by Fang falling out of the sky sticks in my brain.
Dean is approaching me, and I can hear his heartbeat again, growing louder and louder and louder.
I just want to be free. From my past, from my destiny, from myself. Why can’t anyone ever leave me alone.
“Max!” I look up and meet Dean’s gaze. “Max, you need to listen to me. I know you’re hurting, and hungry, and probably hate us, but just listen to me. Concentrate on my voice.”
I squint, trying to rid my head from the sound of his heartbeat, but it’s practically impossible when all of my senses are being overloaded.
“Max, I know you don’t trust us, but you need to try to believe me for just a second. The woman who held you captive, Tani, she bled in your mouth, right?” I meet his gaze again and nod hesitantly. The pain in my abdomen is getting worse.
“When she bled in your mouth she tried to turn you,” he pauses and takes a breath, “Max, she turned you into what she is. She turned you into a vampire.”
I shake my head. Why the hell does my life have to be so goddamn batshit crazy?
My head begins pounding again, and it takes most of my remaining strength to keep myself from collapsing in the middle of the road.
Dean adjusts his grip on the machete in his hand and I pray that he doesn't decide to make his move now. I'm the most vulnerable I've ever been. Every muscle, every bone, every cell in my body feels as if it’s collapsing. The sun hurts my eyes, and it burns my skin. I let my wings go limp and stumble backwards, trying not to let my guard down.
I hate this feeling--defeat. There’s no victory, no Erasers to escape from, no Whitecoats to blame, to mock, to foil. The only enemy is myself.
I can't be a _vampire_. Sure, my flock may seem to have flown straight out of an existentialist sci-fi young adult adventure novel, but vampires? It's just not...possible.
But what if Dean isn’t crazy? He and Sam undoubtedly believed the crap they were telling me. What if there's actually some truth to it? What if I am what he says I am: a goddamn vampire, like the Freaks in the barn?
For one, since this isn't some sappy romance novel, it means I'm a danger to myself and everyone around me, especially the Winchesters. So then why didn’t they just leave me to die?
“Max, please just trust me.” Dean's voice brings me back from the depths of my inner conscious and I refocus my gaze on the Winchesters.
How did I even get here? I remember flying, and I remember the headache, and I remember falling. They got me out of that town, but at what cost? Am I so important to them that they would risk their own safety? Or is the price on my head simply worth the effort?
“If you come with us we should be able to cure you.”
I can’t trust the Winchesters. I’ve only just met them, and they essentially kidnapped me. I have no idea who they are or what they want with me. But, I'm bleeding and broken and exhausted, and I can't trust my instincts or my mind. I have no options. My only option is them.
So I stop. I stop fighting them. I stop fighting myself. I've only actually _prayed_ a handful of times in my entire life, but this time, I need some serious divine intervention to help me with this mess.
_Dear God, and also the Winchesters,_
_Please don't kill me. Please don't hand me over to the Whitecoats. And please, please don't make me regret this decision to actually trust someone for once._
_Thanks._
“Don’t hurt me,” my voice cracks.
Dean exchanges a look with Sam, then holds up his hands and sets the machete beside him on the ground.
“I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
Suddenly, my stomach spasms, what little strength I have left gives out, I collapse on the ground, and the last thing I remember is my vision going red.
…
“I won’t hurt you. I promise,” Dean assured the crazed girl, hoping his voice sounding as genuine as he intended.
She looked at him, seemingly on the verge of letting down her guard and complying, when she suddenly clutched her stomach and groaned in pain.
“Max, are you okay?”
She seemed to wobble for a second, before sinking to her knees, her wings draping around her bruised form. Dean stepped forward hesitantly, before throwing caution to the wind and rushing forward. “Max!”
He crouched down, hands on her shoulders, holding up her limp torso.
“Max, please,” he begged.
Suddenly, her head snapped upward and she glared into his eyes.
Dean jumped backwards, reaching for the gun in his waistband, but it wasn’t there. He backpedaled, trying not to trip over his own feet as she slowly rose, her eyes bloodthirsty and her sneer growing sharper by the second.
Dean glanced over at Sam, armed with only duct tape. _Fuck._ He glanced quickly behind him, and grabbed the machete he had so carelessly thrown away.
When he looked back at Max, her teeth were bared. As he watched, fangs descended from her gums. Her eyes were bloodshot and full of malice. The monster inside her had won. |
d8085624db844515b0cd341f2edb4022 | ['79adebeb367d467fbd486ff1ab9685f5'] | Neither of them knew when it turned into a full out bucket list, but it did. Harry wanted to swim with the dolphins in the Caribbean, he wanted to play another gig at Madison Square Garden, he wanted to kiss on stage, he wanted his fans to accept him for his sexuality. Harry wanted to give Gemma away at her wedding and be sure her mother had a good man and he would be well set for life.
The curly headed boy wanted to go back to Leeds and see Paris again. He wanted to stay out of America because they always left him with poor memories. He wanted the paparazzi to leave him alone for a full seven days. He wanted to come clean over all of the lies he had told since One Direction was formed. Harry wanted to have sex in the X Factor house again and also in an elevator, but that was for slightly less nostalgic reasons.
Performing on top of a tour bus seemed like a great fun for him, along with get black out wasted with Niall at the pub they went to the first time he visited Ireland together when they were only sixteen. He wanted to actually sit down and have a days worth of conversation with some fans about how they had somehow gotten so attached to his band and why, because that had always been a mystery to him. He wanted to have a full album where there was no help writing, only the lyrics of his and his bandmates.
He wanted Louis to attend to a concert with him for some hipster band that he liked. He wanted to make amends with all of his old friends and see his cousins and visit Louis’s sisters because they were so innocent and made all the problems go away. They were fun and bubbly and adorable just like Louis, but he could enjoy them on a different level because he wasn’t constantly stressing with the girls.
He wanted to spend time with all of the boys and spend one last night at the bungalow singing songs around the campfire without a care in the world because that was what Harry loved the most in the world; singing with his brothers.
And above all he wanted to be with Louis, because they were soulmates, and who doesn’t want to be with their soulmate, right?
And then somehow, magically almost, it was eight years later and there was five boys sitting around a firepit bundled in blankets Louis was twenty-nine and the boys would never let him forget that.
Harry and Louis were holding hands under one of the untied sleeping bags and Harry could feel the cold wedding band iced against his skin that made him smile because Louis was his and he was Louis’s.
The wedding had been completely gorgeous and the paparazzi had not seen them for the entire time that they had honeymooned in the Caribbean.
And maybe, just maybe, they had in fact made love in the resorts elevator and Louis had cracked an Ed Sheeran joke that made Harry laugh so hard and turn so bright red, but it was okay because it reminded him exactly why he had fell in love with this gorgeous boy who was the father of his two children, a boy James and a girl Anne who had just turned two.
And seven years ago Niall lost his leg in an accident that put the band on a temporary leave that was long enough for Harry and Louis to be out of the media eye so they could sneak away to the Leeds festival, and also just long enough for Modest to drop them, and in result, after losing a few more of their big-wig clients, the company hit bankruptcy.
One Direction picked up where they left off with Rockitt, only now Harry and Louis were out as a couple, and Harry had never been happier because they didn’t lose too many original fans and they had gained so many more.
One Direction made a documentary where they had come clean about everything those satan spawns had forced upon them. Harry cried in this documentary while the fans joked that Captain Niall had gotten hurt on purpose so that this all could happen.
Six years ago Louis engaged to Harry on top of the Eiffel Tower after a horribly tragic non-romantic dinner. Even after the pigeon attack it was still the best day of Harry’s life.
The following day their sex tape was leaked of the couple in their old X Factor bedroom. On YouTube, not Times Square, which was fortunate for those kinky bastards.
And five years ago, they performed at Madison Square Garden again, belting out an album that they had proudly written themselves, and they all openly sobbed as they announced their retirement, especially Louis. The boys still taunted him for finally breaking down and crying in public. Still, to this day, he was overly defensive about it, but Harry would just peck his cheek and remind him he was perfect because he was, and that was all Louis needed to hear.
That also was the year Zayn and Liam got engaged and for some reason Zayn still won’t let his whipped little puppy dog tell the actual engagement story, even though Harry knew that the dark haired boy had told Louis because for nearly a month sometime after the proposal had happened every time the duo made eye contact the older boy would giggle uncontrollably and Zayn would blush like mad, but Liam would kiss him and it would all be butterflies and rainbows again. | c7606ad78694411990eeb469ee5b7c85 | ['79adebeb367d467fbd486ff1ab9685f5'] |
What Else, Harry?
**Author's Note:**
> This was supposed to be sad, but it got kind of adorable to the point where I wanted to throw up so I don't really know anymore?
“Hang out with family and friends?” Louis pulled Harry into the soft hotel bed, their mostly nude bodies pressing together happily and contently. “Bungee jumping?” Louis mocked his boyfriend. Harry smiled shyly.
“You know I’d spend the entire day with you, Lou.” Harry breathed into the elder boy’s chest.
“Clearly not.” Lou seethed, clearly annoyed with the fact that Harry couldn’t admit that he only wanted to be with Louis.
“You know what I would do on my last day I had to live though, Lou?” Harry asked, nuzzling as close to the blue eyed boy a possible, “I would scream how much I love you from the top of the Eiffel Tower, after a romantic dinner with no paps around to bother us.”
“What else Harry, you do have all day?” Louis mimicked, wanting to know everything the younger boy was pondering about.
“I’ll hack into the broadcasting in Times Square and release our sex tape.” Louis snorted at this retort. Harry mentally added that to the things he wanted to do on his last day of life to make Louis laugh.
“Then we have to burn down Modest!Management for putting us through this hell.”
“London or LA firm?”
“We’ll take London, leave Los Angeles for Rebecca.” Louis laughed again, and Harry smiled at the way his eyes glittered and teeth shone bright.
“I love you, you know that right?” Louis spoke beaming brightly with admiration.
“Of course I do, and I love you back. That’s why on our last day we have to be married.”
“Kids?”
Harry agreed because obviously he wanted to have kids, even though his real motivation for children would be Lou’s happiness.
“What else do you want to do Harry?” He asked with the curiosity of a toddler held in those giant blue eyes.
“I want to get ‘Property of Louis Tomlinson’ tattooed on my arse.”
Neither of them knew when it turned into a full out bucket list, but it did. Harry wanted to swim with the dolphins in the Caribbean, he wanted to play another gig at Madison Square Garden, he wanted to kiss on stage, he wanted his fans to accept him for his sexuality. Harry wanted to give Gemma away at her wedding and be sure her mother had a good man and he would be well set for life.
The curly headed boy wanted to go back to Leeds and see Paris again. He wanted to stay out of America because they always left him with poor memories. He wanted the paparazzi to leave him alone for a full seven days. He wanted to come clean over all of the lies he had told since One Direction was formed. Harry wanted to have sex in the X Factor house again and also in an elevator, but that was for slightly less nostalgic reasons.
Performing on top of a tour bus seemed like a great fun for him, along with get black out wasted with Niall at the pub they went to the first time he visited Ireland together when they were only sixteen. He wanted to actually sit down and have a days worth of conversation with some fans about how they had somehow gotten so attached to his band and why, because that had always been a mystery to him. He wanted to have a full album where there was no help writing, only the lyrics of his and his bandmates.
He wanted Louis to attend to a concert with him for some hipster band that he liked. He wanted to make amends with all of his old friends and see his cousins and visit Louis’s sisters because they were so innocent and made all the problems go away. They were fun and bubbly and adorable just like Louis, but he could enjoy them on a different level because he wasn’t constantly stressing with the girls.
He wanted to spend time with all of the boys and spend one last night at the bungalow singing songs around the campfire without a care in the world because that was what Harry loved the most in the world; singing with his brothers.
And above all he wanted to be with Louis, because they were soulmates, and who doesn’t want to be with their soulmate, right?
And then somehow, magically almost, it was eight years later and there was five boys sitting around a firepit bundled in blankets Louis was twenty-nine and the boys would never let him forget that.
Harry and Louis were holding hands under one of the untied sleeping bags and Harry could feel the cold wedding band iced against his skin that made him smile because Louis was his and he was Louis’s.
The wedding had been completely gorgeous and the paparazzi had not seen them for the entire time that they had honeymooned in the Caribbean.
And maybe, just maybe, they had in fact made love in the resorts elevator and Louis had cracked an Ed Sheeran joke that made Harry laugh so hard and turn so bright red, but it was okay because it reminded him exactly why he had fell in love with this gorgeous boy who was the father of his two children, a boy James and a girl Anne who had just turned two.
And seven years ago Niall lost his leg in an accident that put the band on a temporary leave that was long enough for Harry and Louis to be out of the media eye so they could sneak away to the Leeds festival, and also just long enough for Modest to drop them, and in result, after losing a few more of their big-wig clients, the company hit bankruptcy. |
c0992929df0844b19c6056e109eea952 | ['79b1d43684bd46879089c4d72a287b6b'] | But things were finally how they were supposed to be, Ruby wanted to date her back, Keith had become Lance’s other best friend, and now both parties were meeting each other the next day for a playdate/date date, it was just perfect. Rosa had said they would be home in the evening to make it on time for Lance’s birthday tomorrow. The little boy was so excited when his tía told him he can have this playdate be part of his birthday surprise, and chose to go back to the aquarium, “So I can show all the fishys to Keith!” Azura agreed, definitely not thinking how cute a first date at an aquarium would be. The two McClains waited in front of the building for their guests, both looking out to the parking with rapt attention. When Azura finally saw Ruby's fading dyed head she started grinning widely, probably like, stupid wide, and waving her arm happily. Ruby smiled back, equally as wide, and picked Keith up so he wouldn't go running into traffic like he wanted to as soon as he saw Lance. When the pair finally reached the top of the stairs, both McClains hugged them.
“Hey.” Azura said giddily, wrapping her arms around Ruby's neck.
“Hey yourself.” Ruby answered breathlessly. They were interrupted by the excited voices of their charges asking if they could, _“please please please, show Keith the big shark tanks! He'll really like those!”_ His tía relented and focused on grabbing onto Ruby's hand _(“It's the buddy system, darling. See? Lance and Keith know what I'm talking about.”)_. Luckily all the sharks were in one room, so the boys could go explore freely while being safely watched over by their guardians. While the two grown ups sat off to the side playing with their fingers and being cute in general, the boys stuck their faces on the glass in front of them.
“Look! See that one? Tía Zura says in the wild they eat whole seals, which is kinda sad for the seal, but Tía says that's just how it is.” Keith nodded, understandingly.
“Mommy and I saw a doc-oo-mentry about a GIANT tornado that sucked up all the sharks from the o-shun and this HUGE one fell and a guy cut it in half with a chainsaw!” Keith said his eyes wide. Lance covered his mouth.
“Was it scary?” He said his voice trembling.
“Mommy says they didn't use real sharks and that they just used a piñata full of ketchup.”
“Oh. That's not so bad.”
“Yeah, Mommy knows everything!...” Keith's face suddenly fell. “My momma used to know everything too, before she and daddy left.”
Lance watched as little tears dropped down Keith's face, so he brought him into a hug.
“Don't cry Keith, you should be happy you're really lucky!” Keith wiped away his tears and sniffed.
“How?”
“My mama says when people go away the still watch you from up there in heaven.” He looked up and pointed at the ceiling, Keith joined him. “So it's like you have two mommies taking care of you!” Lance smiled over at Keith, Keith rubbed his eyes once more and smiled back. Suddenly Lance’s face lit up.
“C’mon! I know something else you'll really like! Hurry!” He grabbed Keith's hand and the two toddled over into the next room, without the knowledge of their guardians.
“Remember that time in high school in the cafeteria, I think it was sophomore year?”
“You mean with the applesauce?” Ruby laughed remembering.
“Ok first off, that was not applesauce, that was like apple scented rubber cement! I don't even want to know how the lunch ladies accomplished that!” Azura gagged as Ruby laughed at her exaggerated expressions.
“And secondly, if you hadn't shoved your tray away in disgust while I was bouncing my applesauce ball it would not have flown into poor Alfor’s chili.” Ruby was now leaning against Azura gasping for breath.
“We- we shouldn't laugh- pfft- he was wearing white that day.”
“Oh my god, we had this same argument last time too! It was ivory, not white.”
“How can you even tell? You can call it whatever hipster name you want, but white is white sweetheart.” Azura felt chills go up her spine at the loving term.
“What did you say…?” She asked softly. Ruby narrowed her eyes, confused.
“That white is-”
“No no, I mean, what did you call me?” Azura’s smile gradually grew as Ruby took in her words and turned almost as red as the tips of her hair.
“I- I…” she swallowed thickly. Azura leaned their foreheads together to touch intimately.
“Will you say it again, please?” Ruby's face morphed into shyness.
“Whatever you want….sweetheart.” Azura giggled and swiftly set a kiss to the closest rosy cheek.
“C’mon, let's go see if the boys are done with the sharks yet.”
The women stood up, still hand in hand when both realized they could see neither hide nor hair of their kiddos. They looked at each other in fright.
“Lance!”
“Keith!”
They split up and searched both ends of the room making sure they hadn't just lost sight of them behind the bigger groups of visitors. But once they met back in the middle Azura could see the panic evident in Ruby's eyes.
“Shit, this is bad, this very very bad!” She dragged her hands through her hair. “Fuck I just lost my kid, Zura! I knew I wasn't the best choice to adopt Keith! I have no idea what I'm doing! I don't know the first thing about children! Hell, I should've at least picked up one of those parenting books or...or something!” Ruby started pacing back and forth, until Azura took hold of her shoulders. | 21d2ed54829746d581d9d6857596961a | ['79b1d43684bd46879089c4d72a287b6b'] | “Hullo.” He mumbled. Azura looked up at Ruby who momentarily had a pained look on her face before taking a breath and hardened her eyes. Azura knew that look. Knew that the pain Ruby felt was still fresh from the accident that happened almost a year ago that took away her sister and her brother-in-law. But Ruby was stupidly dutiful like that, and she would not let herself grieve terribly when she had her sister's child to look after, Azura admired her for that. She acted before thinking and stood with her arms open letting Ruby know she wouldn't judge and she definitely wouldn't say anything if that's what she wanted. Ruby merely leaned her head against Azura’s shoulder and wrapped her free arm around Azura’s. They paused for a moment so Azura could pick up Keith and let him hug his aunt turned mother.
The other girls came trickling in, causing Azura and Ruby to separate quickly. But Azura kept a hand on the small of Ruby’s back as they traveled further into the house, to give that little bit of reassurance to her. Keith was dropped off with the other kids perking up a bit when he saw Shiro, whom he had taken a strong liking to. The group of women told each of their charges to be good, gave them each a cookie that Amber said Hunk had made especially for them, and left them in Shiro’s care before going back to the kitchen to catch up.
Being a good three years older, Shiro felt good that his new aunties trusted him enough to keep an eye on their babies. Pidge was the youngest at the age of three, and Shiro had already taken to carrying her almost everywhere. Esme warned him he was going to spoil her, but Shiro didn't mind, she was an angel with him.
Maybe it was playing favorites, but Shiro had already invested too much attention to Pidge in the short time he'd known her. The only one he'd probably put over Pidge was Keith. Thanks to Ebony and Aunt Ruby's tight bond, Shiro and Keith spent a lot of time with each other. Ebony would tell him that everyone needed someone to look up to, like he looked up to her, and Keith seemed to have imprinted on him like a baby duckling. The little boy wanted to be just like Shiro. He would follow him around the house and share all his stories about what he did in school. Shiro liked having Keith around, and when Keith and Aunt Ruby stayed over Ebony's home after the accident, Shiro had made it his personal mission to help his 'little brother' out. It wasn't easy at first, considering Keith didn't know what had actually happened, and even after he was told in the most gentle of ways instead of flat out throwing tantrums to see his parents again, he just became sad and quiet. Acting as if he accepted never seeing his parents again.
It was a few months before the two were well off enough for Aunt Ruby to get them a little apartment and a few more to obtain and sign the papers needed for Aunt Ruby to adopt Keith. In the meantime Shiro had tried being the best brother he could be, but Keith still would clam up and didn't speak unless it was necessary, but Shiro wouldn't give up. It wasn't until one rainy day when Shiro went to visit that he found out what was going on in Keith's head. He and Aunt Ruby were trying to get Keith to do a puzzle with them, but the little boy just sat and watched them instead. When Aunt Ruby left to get snacks from the kitchen Keith spoke.
"Shiro, do you think Aunt Ruby will leeb me too? Like mommy and daddy?" Shiro just stared at him.
"What? Why do you think that?" Keith just played with his socked feet, curling himself up into a tiny ball.
"Mommy and daddy didn't want me anymore right? Ts'why they leff me."
"Oh, baby..." Aunt Ruby had entered the room and Shiro watched as Keith tried to hide from her gaze. Aunt Ruby sat next to him and pulled him into her lap. His little shoulders were shaking with the force of his unshed tears.
"They didn't want to go baby, they would never have wanted to leave you if they had a choice." Aunt Ruby was strong, Ebony always called her a great and terrible force of nature, and it brought tears to Shiro's eyes when he heard the crack in her voice and her own shoulders quake with wracking sobs. She saw him and lifted her arm waiting for him to crash into her lap and the three of them just cried and cried after almost a year of pretending they'd cried enough. After they all calmed down some Aunt Ruby had put her hands on either side of Keith's face.
"Now you listen to me little man," She said gently. "You were always wanted, life just knew how good your parents were that it wanted them for itself. And it's not fair. But just because the world did a bad thing does not mean they loved you or me any less! You were always wanted and you are wanted now, that's why we signed all those papers, so you would never be alone and I will always stay with you and love and take care of you forever." She wiped away the moisture from his cheeks and Keith's big indigo eyes met hers.
"So...does that mean you're my new mommy now?" Aunt Ruby hugged both of the boys to her chest.
"If that's what you want me to be firecracker, then that's what I'll do." Keith just pushed his tear streaked face and runny nose further into the softness of her shirt and just kept saying "Mommy! Mommy!" over and over again. |
0a4c2be53bb647aabae8925d126f00f4 | ['79d3201c97ff433ea377e6750628c75a'] | The sun’s rising through the curtains, and Harry pulls himself out of bed and takes himself to the ensuite, turning the shower on and stripping before climbing in. He presses his forehead against the cold tiles and fits his hand around his cock, getting himself off like that, the spray drowning out his moans and the hitches of his breath.
Once he’s clean, he turns the shower off and climbs out, wrapping a towel around his hips. Dahlia’s awake, and she looks like she’s about to start crying, so Harry picks her up and takes her downstairs to make a bottle. He feeds her back upstairs, sitting up against the headboard with Dahlia in the crook of his arm, suckling on the bottle’s teat.
Liam wakes up when she’s almost done, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Hey. You’re wet.”
“Had a shower.” Harry replies, putting the empty bottle on the bedside table and turning Dahlia around so she’s against his shoulder, patting her back. “When did you come in?”
“One, I think.” Liam replies, running his fingers through Dahlia’s hair, pressing a kiss to Harry’s shoulder.
When Dahlia’s back to sleep, Harry sets about getting ready for work, cheeks red as Liam watches him.
“Can I ask you a question?” Liam asks as Harry tugs on his jeans, buttoning them up.
“Yeah.” Harry replies, searching through the closet for a t-shirt.
“Would you go out on a date with me? Just us?”
Harry turns to look at him, white t-shirt clutched in his hands. “What? Why?”
Liam rolls his eyes, laughing. “Because you said we could talk about it – about us – after Dahlia was born, but we never did. So… Maybe we can do it at dinner?”
Harry looks down at the t-shirt in his hands and then back up at Liam and says, “Uhm, yeah, alright.”
Liam grins and climbs off the bed, sliding up close to Harry and pressing a soft kiss to his mouth, hand cupping his cheek. “Great. Can Camille watch the girls tonight?”
“I’ll call her.” Harry replies softly, pressing his own kiss to Liam’s mouth.
“I love you.”
Harry presses his forehead to Liam’s and says, “I know.”
Liam’s smile is soft, and maybe a little sad before he pulls away from Harry.
Harry gets breakfast on the way to work, getting a breakfast muffin from the McDonalds drive through, calling Camille while he does it. She agrees, and Harry texts Liam to let him know.
When he gets to work, just as Marcie does, the first thing he says, leaning against the window while she unlocks the door, is, “Liam asked me out on a date.”
She gives him raised eyebrows. “Really? What did you say?”
“Yes, of course.” Harry says with a near-hysterical laugh. “Like I’d ever say no to him. He could tell me to burn down the Sistine Chapel and I’d probably do it. How awful is that?”
Marcie laughs and presses her hand to Harry’s cheek. “Not really, when you think about how long you’ve been in love with him for.”
She lets them in and they set up for the day. It’s a busy day, and by the end of it, when they’re packing up, Harry’s almost forgotten about the date. When he finds his phone, with a message on it from Liam, it all comes rushing back to him; _got something down for 6_.
Harry gets home just after five, and Liam gets home just after that with the girls.
“Remind me to never try to get two car seats in the back of a Lamborghini again.” Liam says, lifting Dahlia’s carrier onto the counter while Rhea bolts for the toilet.
“Lamborghini?” Harry asks, voice a little high pitched.
“Yeah, so, my assistant calls, you remember her, Katherine? Well, apparently I’ve got tickets to the Opening Gala of the London Film Festival.” He lifts a garment bag onto the counter next to Dahlia and Harry raises an eyebrow at him until he says, “Want to go with me?”
“I dunno… What’s in the bag?” Harry asks curiously.
“An outfit. Have a look.”
Harry goes around the counter and stands next to Liam, looking at him again before he unzips the bag. Inside are a coat, a black shirt with white hearts, and a pair of black skinny jeans. They’re all from – Jesus fucking Christ. “Saint Laurent?”
“Rhea helped me pick the shirt out.” Liam says, grinning proudly.
“Liam.”
“What?” Liam raises an eyebrow at Harry. “I know what you said, but this is a special occasion, yeah?”
“You’re not gonna take no for an answer, are you?”
“Nope.” Liam replies, shaking his head. “There’s also a shoe box in the car, but I couldn’t carry it in.”
They get dressed, and Liam helps Harry gel his hair before doing his own. They’re done when the doorbell rings to announce Camille’s arrival.
“You look wonderful!” She says when Harry answers the door. “Like a million dollars.”
“I’m practically wearing a million dollars.” Harry says, almost petulantly. “Thank you for coming in on short notice.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. Was just going to knit at home.” Camille says. “Has Rhea eaten dinner?”
“No, but there’s leftover shepherd’s pie in the fridge, so just heat that up.” Harry answers.
Soon, Harry and Liam are out the door, climbing into Liam’s _Lamborghini_ , on their way to The Odeon.
Harry’s palms are sweating and he kind of wants to tell Liam to turn around and head home, knows he will if Harry asks him.
“You okay?” Liam asks, looking over to Harry as he reaches the theatre, covered in people and flashing cameras.
Harry nods, wiping his hands on his jeans. | afe480b2198345ff9c7ce59387ed965a | ['79d3201c97ff433ea377e6750628c75a'] | If you must weep, do it right here in my bed as I sleep
**Author's Note:**
> Please enjoy a narrative I wrote for an English assignment last year that I got an A- for. I had to write something under 500 words and fuck was it hard.
>
> I'm hoping because I'm not enrolled in Stage 2 English anymore that the SACE board isn't going to see this and: number one, think I stole it, and number two, realised I basically wrote the aftermath of a Tomlinshaw one-night-stand for my first assignment of the year.
>
> Title from Keaton Henson's You.
When Nick wakes, the bed beside him is empty and cold, Louis long gone, just a hint of him left on the pillowcase, musky cologne and sweet shampoo. The room around him is dark, and frigid, and Nick presses his face to the pillow, breathes the last trace of Louis in and tries to ignore the demanding blare of his phone alarm. He knows if he turns it off he'll fall back to sleep and get to work late. He does it every day.
The night before feels like a fever dream, clouded in smoke and mist, whispers of touches that made it feel like sparks of electricity were shooting through Nick's veins, lightning strikes in the dark. He'd always wondered what a night with Louis would be like, and it far surpassed any of his wildest daydreams.
Nick wishes Louis had stayed until the morning. He could have made him tea - Yorkshire with milk and no sugar like he knows Louis likes because he's all Harry ever talks about - kissed his forehead and pretended Louis was his, could go to work thinking of him, missing him, counting the minutes until he'd be back in that bed with him.
Nick switches off his alarm and sits up, sheets pooling in his lap, rubbing at his tired eyes, wiping away the sleep in the corners. He stares blankly at the wall for as long as he can bear it, tracing the crack in the upper corner.
He hopes Louis has left something in his rush to leave - a hoodie, a sock, the watch his mum gave to him on his eighteenth, the one with the etching underneath, anything - just so he can see him again. He wants desperately to see him again, to touch him, kiss him.
In the back of his mind, Nick knows he'll never have a night like that with Louis again. The resentment between them is just too strong. He knows if they see each again, neither will mention it and it will disappear, wisps of smoke lost to the breeze.
Never mentioned, but never forgotten.
Nick sometimes wishes they’d met outside of their friendships with Harry, without the competition for Harry’s affections looming over them. He wishes neither of them had been stubborn enough to believe - no, to expect – Harry’s friendship to be solely their own. He wishes he’d apologised that first time, when he called Louis naïve and petty, and he wishes Louis had apologised when he’d called Nick a cradle snatcher.
Maybe then they could have been happy.
With a handful of awful, sharp cracks and a grunt, Nick climbs out of bed, ready, albeit hesitant, to the start the day, heart heavy with the love of someone he can never have, but desperately yearns for. |
7515118962c44f8ba1a74b99b1e555c4 | ['79d609bce92d40cbba46131f05cc50fd'] | 1. my marathon o murders
In: Get Shrekt Scrub Your Time Here Is Ogre
LanceIsHot: brooooooo
PidgeIsBetterThanYou: duuude what
LanceIsHot: guess who got a date?
Allura: Um, who?
LanceIsHot: me Allura. me.
Allura: Oh! Good job Lance!
LanceIsHot: yea whatever
EmoBitch: lmao who would date you Lance????
Hunkalicious: Keith! That was rude! Lance is amazing and anybody would be lucky to have him!
LanceIsHot: thanks hunk! And yea that was really rude keith!
EmoBitch: okay sorry Lance but who?
LanceIsHot: well if you HAVE to know
LanceIsHot: its jenny from 3rd period
EmoBitch: oh
CoranTheCornMan: well this is an advancement in lances dating uh, whats the word? Life, we will go with his dating life
LanceIsHot: thanks cornman
EmoBitch: im bored pidge come watch some documentaries with me
PidgeIsBetterThanYou: omw
LanceIsHot: woah Keith watches documentaries????
EmoBitch: only the ones on serial killers
LanceIsHot: ....
LanceIsHot: pidge is it all right if I come along I love those
EmoBitch: no you cant
LanceIsHot: i didnt ask you
PidgeIsBetterThanYou: well if keith says no then no
LanceIsHot: fine ill just watch them alone in my room
LanceIsHot: Allura you wanna watch some documentaries with me?
Allura: Sorry Lance, I can't. I have some homework to do, and um, some chores!
LanceIsHot: oh well hunk? Do you wanna watch some?
Hunkalicious: sorry I got homework too
LanceIsHot: damn well i guess ill watch then by myself
LanceIsHot: im gonna go to the store brb
PidgeIsBetterThanYou: why?
LanceIsHot: to get some supplies
PidgeIsBetterThanYou: what supplies??
LanceIsHot: just some snacks and stuff for my marathon o murders
EmoBitch: lance wtf
LanceIsHot: thats what i call the murder docs i watch
EmoBitch: oh
LanceIsHot: yee
2. y'all
ShiroTheHero: y'all will never guess what just happened!!
LanceIsHot: am i the only one who read that in a country accent?
EmoBitch: lol no i did too
PidgeIsBetterThanYou: me too
Hunkalicious: yea I did too
LanceIsHot: good
LanceIsHot: y'all
PidgeIsBetterthanYou: y'all
EmoBitch: y'all
Hunkalicious: y'all
MattAMillion: y'all
LanceIsHot: matt!! Oh matt i thought youd never talk to us again! Oh matt i love you!!!
EmoBitch: wow Lance you act like he hasnt talked to us in a month or something
LanceIsHot: are you jealous because i told him i love him?
EmoBitch: of course not
PidgeIsBetterThanYou: yea he is
LanceIsHot: dont worry my keith
LanceIsHot: my princess
LanceIsHot: my baby
LanceIsHot: my kitten
LanceIsHot: my love bug
EmoBitch: okay yea thats enough lance we dont need to hear you talking to yourself
PidgeIsBetterThanYou: Keith is totally blushing rn
EmoBitch: am not
LanceIsHot: I bet you are wait PIDGE HOW DO YOU KNOW
PidgeIsBetterThanYou: I'm at his house obvs
PidgeIsBetterThanYou: I'm his best friend I'm always at his house
Hunkalicious: lance is very jealous right now
LanceIsHot: no im not
Hunkalicious: you literally just told me
ShiroTheHero: so...
ShiroTheHero: can I tell you guys what happened?
LanceIsHot: nO | fb24d81767524458ab198452306759c6 | ['79d609bce92d40cbba46131f05cc50fd'] | She flinched as her pink drink was set in front of her. Lana laughed as she sat down, “did I scare ya honey? My bad.” Akira shook her head and waved it off before taking a big drink of her tea.
“It’s all good, I was just spacing out.” Lana ah’d and took a sip of her own drink, watching Akira.
“So, I bet you’re wondering why I invited you out for bubble tea.” Akira shrugged, slowly chewing her jellies and looking at the table, feeling awkward. “Well, for starters I wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh?”
“Yea.”
Akira looked up. “About what?”
Lana scratched the back of her neck and looked over to the counter, Akira followed her gaze and saw Hunk give her a thumbs up and a big smile. Lana sighed heavily and look Akira in the eyes, “I really like you.”
Akira’s mouth dropped open and she stared at Lana. “Really?”
Lana looked nervous, which was new to Akira as she always looked so confident. “Yea, does that, make you uncomfortable? At all?”
Akira swallowed and frantically and shook her head and hands. “No! Not at all! In fact, quite the opposite actually.” She took a deep breath and looked at Lana, “I actually like you too, a lot.” Lana’s eyes widened and she smiled widely.
“Really?”
“Yea, have for a while.”
“Do you, maybe wanna, be my girlfriend then?” Lana looked nervous again and Akira put her hand on Lana’s, which were sat on the table playing with a napkin.
“I’d love to be your girlfriend Lana.” Lana smiled so widely it looked painful.
“Really?! Oh my god, I was so nervous you don’t even know,” she turns back to Hunk and shouts, “she said yes!” Akira giggles as Hunk jumps up and fistbumps the air. Lana blushes and looks at the table.
“Would it uh, could I, would you um…”
“Come on, you can say it, I believe in you.” Akira giggles seeing Lana flustered like this.
“Would it be okay if I kissed you right now?” Now it was Akira’s turn to blush and get flustered. She looked down and nodded.
“Yea, that would be okay.” Lana didn’t need anything more and she got up and leaned over the table, grabbing Akira’s chin and pulling her into a short and sweet kiss. Akira blushed harder and put her hand to her lips. “Wowza.”
Lana laughed and stood up, grabbing her hand and pulling her along. When they reached the counter she let go of her hand and grabbed her keys, tossing them to Hunk. “If we aren’t back by the time you get off you can drive the car home. See you later big guy!”
Hunk laughed and caught them, “of course! Have a nice time! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Lana laughed at him and grabbed Akira’s hand again and lead her out, pulling her along in the direction of the park.
“I’m so happy you said yes, you don’t even know.” Lana looked at Akira and smiled widely.
“I’m so happy you asked, you don’t even know.” She giggled and kissed Lana’s cheek. Lana smirked and pointed to her lips.
“You missed sugar.” Akira rolled her eyes and smiled wider before kissing her on the lips. Once they reached the park they had finished their teas and threw them into the trashcan before Lana looked at Akira and grinned.
“Race you to the swingset.”
“You’re on.” They both took off running towards the swingset. Akira won by one tenth of a second but won nonetheless. She jumped onto the swing and looked at Lana, “push me peasant.” They laughed and Lana walked behind her and started pushing her. When she started going fairly high Lana smacked her ass and laughed when she yelped.
“My bad, not my fault though.” Eventually they both sat on the swingset when a group of boys came through and stared at the girls. One slapped another's chest and nodded towards the girls as if to say watch this.
“Hey cuties!” Akira groaned and rolled her eyes. He walked over to them and the other boys followed. “Just had to tell you that me and my friends find you both really hot and I was wondering if I could have one of your numbers? You girls don’t have boyfriends right?”
Akira frowned at him, “no we don’t have boyfriends and no you can’t have our numbers.” She turned towards Lana and she nodded. She got up and grabbed Lana’s hand and started leading her away but the guy grabbed her arm. She ripped her arm away and glared at him. “Don’t touch me I’m not interested.”
“Oh come on, don’t be like that beautiful, you don’t even know me, so you can’t say you’re not interested. I’m a nice guy. Come on just give me your number, I’ll treat you so good.”
Lana practically growled at him, “listen jerkface, my girlfriend said she’s not interested so I think it would be best if you leave instead of putting your hands on her and getting mad at her when she rejects you while saying you’re a nice guy.” He gasped and then looked disgusted.
“Of course you’re gay, why else would you not be interested. Whatever you guys are disgusting I’m out.” He turns around and Akira goes to punch him but Lana grabs her arm and shakes her head.
“He’s not even worth it babe come on. Let’s go, we can watch crappy movies and eat popcorn and candy.” Akira closed her eyes and breathed deeply before looking at Lana and smiling.
“That sounds wonderful let's get going.” She glared at the group of boys on the way out, sticking her tongue out at them before kissing Lana while maintaining eye contact with the one who approached them and flipping them off. Lana shook her head and smiled, walking slightly faster. |
df67213c5c104a15a4c72831b428e486 | ['7a38efaab11c429f82aefe6329bfee9e'] | You had to stop this. You couldn't let this argument continue any longer and your legs were moving as you entered the room and placed your hand on Minhee’s shoulder, making her jump and turn to look at you with wide eyes, tears wet her cheeks and her nose red and flushed. You heard her startled gasp and she whispered your name. Her eyebrows furrowed and she looked at her brother who was yet unaware of your presence in the room.
Minseok was facing the kitchen sink, his hands gripping the counter so hard his knuckles were white and his shoulders hunched over himself. He looked so tense and agitated you wondered how badly his head must be aching from the pain of his hangover and the shouting match they had just endured.
The discord in your mind yelled at you to go to him, to wrap your arms around his shoulders and soothe the pain you knew he was feeling. Comfort you knew he needed from you, yet the rational part of your mind warned you off. Told you to cut ties with this man once and for all. This man who had no idea what he wanted, even when the obvious stood in front of him time and time again begging and pleading for him to accept it.
“I couldn't let her be with me because I love her too fucking much!” Minseok raised his voice in defense at being called out for his sins and he spun on his heels, speaking to Minhee and coming up short as soon as he saw your face. His eyes were wide, his mouth open and his trembling hands fell limply to his side as his startled face froze on yours. His stunned response so strong and telling you could practically see the panic taking over his body.
He was caught. You were here and you had heard it straight from his lips. The sober truth that had he had managed to conceal for so long now echoed out in the silence of the kitchen and you felt Minhee tremble below your hands, which had wrapped tightly around her shoulders.
She was crying and she angled her face down away from you.
“Y-You knew?” You whispered to your best friend who wiped her tears and sniffled as she nodded her head.
“I knew how he felt. But I didn't know about all of this.”
“Why didn't you say anything?” Your question was small and curious. Lacking in any judgment against her for her silence. She kept her mouth shut when he knew her brother had loved you for years. She kept that secret to herself, scared that you would only be hurt by this man.
“Why didn’t you?” Her question was black and blue. You could feel the pain in her voice and the hurt you saw in her eyes as she looked up at you and you felt flooded with regret.
“You could have trusted me enough to tell me. You know that I’ll always love you no matter what.”
The guilt settled over your head, heavy and suffocating the longer you looked at your best friend’s face. You reached for her, needing to touch her warmth suddenly and she leaned into you as you wrapped your arm around her shoulder.
A high pitched ringing filled the room, bringing your eyes away from Minhee’s and Minseok's attention was pulled from the daze he had been stuck in. His movement was sluggish and you recognized the ring tone of his cell phone as it lit up from the far end of the kitchen counter where it had been plugged in to charge the evening before, most likely by a fussing Mrs. Kim as she took care of the belongings he had left strewn about the home.
You watched Minseok’s face as the spell broke. He lifted his brows as he reached for his phone and your heart ached as you replayed the words he last spoke.
_...because I love her too fucking much_
Again and again, this man admitted to what you knew deep down inside. Minhee had even said it herself, that he had been in love with you for years.
But what good had it been?
The friendship you shared with the man had shown hints of his love but what had he actually done to show it? Abandoned you? Refused to acknowledge you to his family and friends. Ignored you again and again for weeks while he denied to himself what was actually happening here. That you were in love with him, as much, if not more so…
_”No, I’m home. At my mom’s place.”_ Minseok's voice sounded gruff into the line as he spoke to whoever had called him and you saw his shoulders stiffen up as his head lifted, a look of surprise on his face.
_”What? Here..but how…”_ He was walking quickly out of the kitchen, leaving you and Minhee behind in confusion as he went to the front door of his home.
You heard a new voice at the door, a chipper sounding man who was familiar and you felt Minhee stiffen slightly under your arm.
Was her reaction merely due to the visitor’s bad timing?
Minseok silently made his way into the kitchen, limping on his injured foot followed by Jongdae, his band member and very close friend and you couldn't quite bring the smile to your face that matched the brilliance of his.
He looked between the three of you and you saw his bright smile flatten and his eyes lingered on Minhee for a bit before he looked back at Minseok.
“Hey, what's with the mood in here?” His voice was light. Forcibly so and you wondered if you could excuse yourself before you were forced to socialize with Minseok’s friend. | 94af1eead7ec40f58a8052945f809f4a | ['7a38efaab11c429f82aefe6329bfee9e'] | “How could he possibly--” you shook your head, unable to fully understand how you could dare to join him in his bedchamber, tonight of all nights. The night designated by God himself, or so the church had declared in their doctrine, to be the most fruitful.
“He is in the baths.” Her voice was minuscule and you felt a sinking in your belly.
You were quick for your outer robes and out the door in an instant. Having only witnessed his bath the evening after a union once, you knew-- you knew that he called for you out of desperation.
How long had he been in? Your feet moved as quietly as you could manage on the marble floor.
Would his skin be rubbed raw? Red and weeping from his efforts to cleanse himself? Would he hear your voice and stop at once or would you have to pull the pumice stone from his hands with force?
The door was closed and a maid with worry on her face let you in without a breath of hesitation. The sound of water splashing on the inside, steam rising up from the scalding water and the king somewhere within the haze.
“My lord?”
There was a soft grunting sound. The sounds of effort and the scent of heated lye soap filled your nose. The grunting did not stop, but changed with small whimpers and whiney complaints.
“It doesn't come off,” he said in annoyance. “I can still smell her.”
His skin was red and angry. Pruned fingertips gripped the white bar and rubbed roughly along his arms, his legs, his chest, and abdomen. You could see the milky white haze in the water that surrounded him. The water was thick with dissolved soap already used, yet he reached for more, desperate to rid himself of the action itself from his recent memory.
“My lord,” you said again a bit louder but he could not hear you.
You didn't see any blood yet and felt instantly thankful that the rough pumice stone laid just out of his reach.
“My lord,” you repeated again, hoping to break the spell so he could look into your face and stop this assault on his skin. The soap dropped and sunk into the water below and he reached for the tray that held the others.
You extended your hand, touching his soaked fingers before he could grab it.
“My love,” you said softly, feeling the affection your felt inside your soul take over your mind and your tongue as you spoke the word. The word that lived deep within your heart and threatened to consume you with every breath you took of every single day. With every glance of his eyes and touch of his lips against yours, you felt positively enslaved to it.
Yet you never dared to speak to him in such an intimate way. He was your lord. Your king, your commander, your ruler. To speak to your king without his title was unheard of.
He was motionless as the word danced around his head. Having already exited your lips you couldn't push it back inside of your parted lips even if you wanted to. It already existed. There was simply no going back from existence.
His wet fingers twitched within your hand for a second before he moved, slipping them between your own fingers he closed his hand within yours and he pulled. A tiny tug, begging you to step closer to the edge of the bath.
He was reaching. Wet arms attached to wet hands, he pulled harder, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist, you stumbled into him as his head met your belly and his arms constricted tighter.
“Say it again,” he whined quietly against your wet nightshirt. Your head fell back and your eyes closed as he clung to you. “Say it again, I order you to.” He pleaded into your belly.
“My love, you are clean. It's time to get out of the bath now and come into my arms.” It came so naturally from your lips, the sweet nurturing words for him. He was raising himself, braced with shaking legs and holding on to your arms. Within his eyes, you saw exhaustion and the absence of the hot water made him shake and tremble as he stepped away from it.
You reached for his robe, held back by his hands that reached only for you, you couldn't quite grasp the dry garment.
“I don't want that,” he complained, pulling at the tie around your waist that held your own outer garment in place. It fell open his arms slipped inside, sliding along the thin fabric of your nightshirt, you felt fingertips pushing the fabric away as he sought out the warmth of your dry skin. Your own clothing would have to do for both of you. You used your robe to wrap around his back and dry his skin and warm him through.
Despite his exhaustion and the temporary slip into madness as he tried to rid himself of the ghosts that haunted him once a month, you could still feel the strength well inside his muscles as he gripped you tightly and buried his face in your neck. Each deep breath he took filled his nose with only the smell of you. He seemed to be coming back into himself the tighter he clung to you and you found yourself lifted off of your feet. You wrapped your legs around his waist and allowed him to carry you as he moved out of his washing rooms further into the room that you knew connected to his bedchamber.
His bed was unmessed, untouched, and unslept. You knew the monthly unions did not take place in here. He would never allow such a thing. This was your space and this was your man. |
6a2cb568b65c4dd997466841d8bf4827 | ['7a5ef5b566c64d0985facadaeced67b8'] | Sex has always been kind of a big deal to Bitty, and now he’s gone and done it and come morning, he’ll have forgotten all about it.
“What are you thinking about?” Jack asks quietly.
“I’m not going to remember this.”
Bitty hears Jack shift on the bed, but he keeps his eyes shut. He’s not sure if he can look at Jack right now.
“Bitty…”
Jack’s voice is so gentle, it makes Bitty’s heart ache. He squeezes his eyes tighter and shakes his head.
“Bits, look at me. Please?”
Bitty shakes his head again.
Two warm fingers land on his chin, tilting his head to the side. Jack kisses him gently. “Please?”
Bitty opens his eyes, and Jack is looking at him, blue eyes so wide and soft. He kisses Bitty again. “I love you.”
It feels like a knife to the heart. “I love you too,” he whispers back, and he realizes it’s true. In spite of everything, he loves Jack Zimmermann, and Jack loves him back. “That’s why it hurts so bad, Jack. This has been the most amazing night, and it’s all going to be gone in the morning. And all this pain… Jack, I won’t remember it, but you will! You’ll feel it every day. Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”
Jack gathers Bitty closer, tucking him against his chest despite the tears streaking Bitty’s cheeks. “Because I love you. Because you’re funny and kind and talented and so full of hope. Every day that I get to make you fall in love with me again is a gift, _ mon coeur _ . It’s all worth it to me. You’re worth it.”
Bitty wriggles against Jack’s grasp until he can free his arms and throw them around Jack’s neck. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Jack Zimmermann. The very best.”
Jack holds on tight and doesn’t let go for Bitty doesn’t even know how long. He doesn’t mind, though; if he could stay like this forever, it would be just fine.
At last, though, reality comes crashing in as Bitty is just starting to fall asleep. “I should...probably go…” Jack murmurs.
“Oh, um. Yeah, probably. I don't think it would end well if I woke up with a stranger in my bed…”
Jack smiles at that, but his eyes are just ever too tight. He starts to roll out of the bed before Bitty lunges for him.
“Wait!”
Jack stops, looking over his shoulder with a raised brow. “Yeah?”
“Oh, this is going to sound so selfish but...do you think you could maybe stay a little longer? Just until I fell asleep?”
The smile that breaks over Jack’s face is breathtaking. “Of course. Of course, Bitty, I’d love to.” He settles himself back onto the bed, opening his arms for Bitty to curl up against his chest.
“Thank you, Jack. This has been the best day I can remember… Probably the best day of my life.”
Jack kisses the top of Bitty’s head. “I feel the same way, _ mon coeur _ . Now sleep, so I can make you fall in love with me all over again tomorrow.”
Bitty giggles and snuggles closer, pressing a kiss to Jack’s skin. “Love you, too.”
-x-
“They’re tickets for the home opener,” Jack explains, shifting his weight on his feet. “I thought you might like to come. I would have gotten you a seat in the family and friends section, but I thought that might lead to a lot of questions you wouldn’t want to answer, and I didn’t want you to be stressed out at the game. They’re still good seats, though.”
Bitty lays his hand over his heart. “Oh, Jack. That’s so thoughtful!”
“So...will you come?”
“On one condition: I’m going to need a Zimmermann jersey.”
-x-
“Do people know we’re dating?”
Jack looks up from his book. “A few of your friends do, but nobody else. It was a bit of a struggle to explain our relationship to your friends; they weren’t really sure how it worked since you’d forget me day to day. They wanted to make sure I wasn’t taking advantage of you or anything. They came around in the end, but we decided to keep it to ourselves for a little while longer. Plus there would be all sorts of media attention on us if I said I was dating anyone, and neither of us wanted that. In time, I’d like to tell more people, like my parents, but I’m okay with where we are now.”
Bitty nods absently, absorbing this information. It makes sense.
Then he looks up again. “Remind me who your parents are?”
-x-
“Is this...Taylor Swift?”
_ “Jack Zimmermann, do not blaspheme!” _
-x-
“I have anxiety,” Jack admits one night as they’re lounging on the couch. “And depression, but mostly I have trouble with the anxiety.”
Bitty turns to look at Jack, eyes wide. He’s not sure what to say, and he tells Jack as much. | ac3c7c4e722647a6b513df5ee3887245 | ['7a5ef5b566c64d0985facadaeced67b8'] | Jack rolls suddenly beneath him, flipping Bitty flat on his back and hovering above him. It's a display of brute strength, and normally that would be annoying, but normally, Bitty’s not getting thrown around by his half-naked, well-muscled boyfriend.
It's hot, to say the least.
Jack fumbles at Bitty’s belt for only a second before getting at the fastenings of his shorts. Those come off easily and get thrown across the room, followed by his briefs.
“ _ Fuck,” _ Jack whispers. “You're so beautiful.”
Bitty feels his cheeks heat and reaches for Jack’s shorts. It takes longer to get them off because Bitty hasn't done this in a good while, and also because the feeling of Jack’s hard cock pressed against the back of Bitty’s hand is supremely distracting. He figures it out eventually, and it's all he can do not to weep when he finally gets Jack naked.
“ _ Mother Mary, _ Jack,” Bitty moans. “Lord, you're prettier‘n I could’ve ever imagined.”
Jack smiles and lowers himself until they’re pressed together from head to toe, naked as the day they were born. Bitty feels like he’s on fire, and he loves it; he’d gladly burn to ashes if it means he could stay like this forever.
“I didn’t think…” Jack begins, his voice a quiet rumble. “I wasn’t sure if we’d ever get here, you know? I’d be fine if we never slept together, but I couldn’t say I didn’t want to. I didn’t think too much about it, though, didn’t want to...I don’t know, get my hopes up or anything. But I knew if I got one chance, I… I’d want you to fuck me. If— If you want, of course. No pressure, really, whatever you’re comfortable wi—”
“Jack,” Bitty cuts in gently. “I would really, really love to.”
Jack lets out a breath of laughter that slips into a moan as Bitty squeezes at his ass. His hips jerk, cock rubbing against the crease of Bitty’s thigh before he rolls himself off. “Condoms and lube?”
Bitty grabs them from the nightstand, grateful that he somehow still had all this left. “How do you want to do this?”
“On my back,” Jack replies immediately. “I want to see you.”
Bitty sucks his lower lip between his teeth. “Lord, you’re going to kill me.”
With a careful hand, Bitty nudges Jack’s thighs apart, opening him up. He slicks his other fingers generously, rubbing the pad of his index finger over Jack’s hole before pressing inside. It’s achingly intimate, watching Jack’s face scrunch with pleasure as he takes first one of Bitty’s fingers and then two and three. Bitty keeps it up for perhaps a little longer than strictly necessary, in part because he wants to be certain Jack won’t get hurt, and also in part because the tiny shivers and gasping whines Jack makes with each thrust of his fingers are addictive.
“ _ Crisse _ … Bitty, please…”
Bitty sweeps his hand over Jack’s thigh, smiling softly. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”
He rolls a condom over his cock and drizzles it with lube, carefully rubbing the head over Jack’s slick hole before sinking in. The feel of Jack so tight around him is incredible in the most excruciating way, and Bitty has to take a moment to compose himself.
“Jack? You doin’ okay, honey?”
“ _ Ngh _ , fuck. Yeah, Bits, I’m great. You can move when you’re ready.”
“Okay,” Bitty breathes. He thrusts once and has to bite down on his lip to stifle a cry. “Oh, lord.”
“More, Bits, please,” Jack moans, shifting restlessly on the sheets.
How could Bitty say no to that? He rearranges Jack’s legs to wrap around his waist and leans forward, hands planted beside Jack’s shoulders. He drops a kiss to the middle of Jack’s chest before starting to fuck him in earnest.
It’s more work than Bitty remembers it to be, but it’s worth it for the way Jack’s mouth drops open and eyes roll back, hands landing on Bitty’s ass to urge him faster, harder, closer. They’re both whining, crying out, their sounds almost masking the slap of Bitty’s hips against Jack’s ass.
“Bitty, _ fuck! _ I’m getting close.”
“Touch yourself,” Bitty orders breathlessly. “Come for me.”
Jack keens and grasps his cock, already wet with precome. He jerks himself hard and fast, in sync with Bitty’s thrusts. “Oh my god. God— Oh, fuck. Fuck _, fuck!_ _Bitty!”_
Jack comes with one last cry, body arching off the bed as he spills over his fist. Bitty manages to fuck him through his orgasm until he comes himself, pressing himself deep.
After all the noise they made, the sudden quiet is somehow hilarious. They burst into almost simultaneous laughter, in between quick gasps to regain their breath.
“That was...incredible,” Jack pants. “ _ You’re _ incredible.”
Bitty kisses the nearest part of Jack he can reach, which turns out to be his shoulder. He’s still a little overcome, and words seem to have escaped him for the moment.
Jack gets up and returns with a warm, wet cloth. He cleans Bitty up as much as one can with only a washcloth and crawls back into bed beside him, pressing kisses to the sweaty hair at Bitty’s temple.
They lie tangled together for a while, basking in the afterglow. Bitty makes his video for the night with Jack right beside him, who is refusing to look at the camera and instead choosing to lay kisses all over Bitty’s neck and shoulder. When that’s finished, they settle down again. Jack rubs his thumb in slow, soothing circles over Bitty’s palm, and Bitty tries to focus only on that, he really does, but his brain starts running a mile a minute again, and soon he’s worked himself up because _ he’s going to forget this _ . |
c845b28ff3b24a0eac166e9a33164b7d | ['7a720a0514f64602a466048646dc7e53'] | Nagisa was uneasy as he sat in the train carriage with his sisters. They were all stealing sideways glances at him, and any physical contact they had with him was deliberately feather-light, as if they were afraid he would snap in half. He hated it. He hated being treated like some delicate flower.
As they stepped off the train, Nagisa tripped slightly, and immediately all three of them rushed to check he was all right.
“I’m fine! Relax!” he said with forced, over-bright enthusiasm. He plastered a grin onto his face and kept walking, leaving his concerned, confused sisters in his wake.
Nanako was the first to catch up to him. “Nagi-chan, slow down!”
“Huh?”
“You can’t just march off! You don’t even know where we’re going!” she panted as Noriko and Natsuki jogged to her side.
“Can’t you just get off my case?!” Nagisa snapped. “I’m not a child anymore! I’m not precious little baby Nagi-chan who needs to be wrapped in cotton wool and protected at all costs!”
“Nagi…” Natsuki began, placing a hand on Nagisa’s shoulder, but he jerked away from her touch, ignoring the people around them who were pausing and staring at them.
“Cut it out! I thought you were going to try and take my mind off things, not baby me and treat me like some fragile ornament or something! What do you want from me? Do you want me to admit that I’m not okay? Well fine, here goes: I’m not okay!” Tears welled up in Nagisa’s eyes and he furiously tried to blink them back. “I’m not okay… And I don’t know how to _be_ okay again…”
Nagisa was panting heavily from his outburst, and he stared at the ground, unable to look at his sisters. The three of them exchanged glances, then Noriko took a step closer and wrapped her arms around Nagisa. Nagisa froze in surprise, but allowed himself to be hugged.
“Nagi-chan… We’re here for you.”
Nanako and Natsuki also came up and hugged him, and Nagisa was overwhelmed by the love his sisters were giving him.
“Please… Help me be okay again…” he whispered, tears flowing down his cheeks.
“We will. We’re going to figure this out. All four of us, together.” Natsuki replied.
4. Epilogue
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> There, I told you I'd get this out promptly! I hope you've enjoyed reading this story. If you have, please consider leaving kudos or a comment! :)
_ About a year later… _
“Hurry, hurry, Nagi-kun, we’re going to be late!”
“Sorry, Rei-chan! I’m coming!” Nagisa calls as he rushes down the stairs, pausing as he catches sight of himself in the full-length mirror in the hallway. He can’t help but stop and smile.
_I actually look good now,_ he thinks. _I don’t look tired, or skinny, or ill. I’m healthy. And I’ll never let myself make the same mistakes again. I’m going to university, in Tokyo, with Rei-chan. We’ll study hard to get good grades, and we’ll see Haru-chan and Mako-chan…_
_I’m not letting anyone down anymore, especially not myself!_
“Nagi-kun, we really need to get going…” Rei sticks his head around the front door into the hallway and sees what’s holding Nagisa up. “You know, I’m so proud of you.” Rei walks over to Nagisa, looking at the reflection of them in the mirror. “I know it wasn’t easy for you, but you’re going to be okay now.”
Nagisa looks at his own face. He hated thinking of how things had been last year. Thankfully, with Rei’s help, and his sisters’ moral support, he had gotten back to eating slowly and surely. Not only did he eat properly now, he also ate far more healthily than he had before his dramatic weight loss – he still hated the word _anorexia_ , although he knew it was the right word for what had happened.
“It’s really all thanks to you, Rei-chan. Your diet plans, your support, your understanding… You’ve been my rock.” Nagisa wraps his arms around the taller boy, hugging him tightly.
“Nagi-kun, I just ironed my uniform before I left the house, you’ll rumple it!” Rei protests, but he smiles nonetheless, returning the embrace and pressing a kiss to the top of Nagisa’s head. “But you know, none of my efforts would have meant anything if you hadn’t put the hard work in.”
Nagisa blushes. He’s still not used to Rei complimenting him, even though it’s been over a year since they started referring to each other as boyfriends.
“Gah! We really do have to go!” Rei says, glancing at his watch. He grabs Nagisa by the hand and they dash out of Nagisa’s house together. Rei’s parents are waiting in the car, along with Rei’s elder brother Ryou. Nagisa hopes that his parents have been able to pick his sisters up from the station without any trouble and are already on their way to the school. He’d had a text from Makoto earlier saying that he and Haru were at the school waiting for the ceremony to start, and congratulating him and Rei on their graduation in advance.
“I can’t believe my kid brother’s finally graduating high school! Seems like only yesterday you were starting middle school!” Ryou laughs, ruffling his brother’s hair.
“Ryou! It’s not beautiful!” Rei complains, attempting to flatten his hair. Nagisa laughs, as do Rei’s parents.
“Come on, Ryou, don’t tease your brother.” their father pipes up. “After all, as your father, it’s my job to embarrass both of you! For example, I bet Rei doesn’t know that when you graduated high school, your trousers fell down when you went up to get your diploma…”
“DAD!” Ryou yells, blushing, as Rei and Nagisa giggle.
“Come on, Shiro darling, leave the boys alone.” their mother interrupts. “Or I’ll tell them about what happened at _your_ high school graduation…”
“Y-Yui!” | d2624fe641ce4d098588d914bb84148e | ['7a720a0514f64602a466048646dc7e53'] | “So what do you think’s going on?” Gou asked Rei. She, Makoto and Haru had met up with Rei during their study period to discuss Nagisa and what might be happening.
“I’m not sure… He’s been acting funny ever since we discovered that weight gain of his. He’s looking paler lately, and he never eats lunch with us anymore, he always says he’s going to study or something. And this morning when we started our run he tired very quickly, and said he was feeling weak.” Rei pointed out grimly.
“That doesn’t sound good. And you saw how many layers of clothing he’s been wearing recently.” Makoto thought for a moment. “Has he looked thinner to any of you? During swim practise, maybe?”
“Not that I’ve noticed. But we see him swim every day, to notice a change like that we’d have to have gone several days or even weeks without seeing him in his swimsuit.” Rei said.
“We should keep a close eye on him this afternoon.” Haru suggested, and the others agreed.
After their final lessons of the day, they met at the locker rooms and got ready for practise. Nagisa seemed not to notice that there were four concerned pairs of eyes on him as he got changed.
“I’m going to swim some lengths before we start, ‘kay Gou-chan?” He said with a smile that seemed horribly forced.
“Alright, but don’t tire yourself out!” Gou warned him. “And it’s Kou!”
Nagisa walked up and stepped onto the starting block, adjusting his goggles over his eyes and pointedly ignoring the pangs of hunger that had been haunting him since he woke up. He poised ready to dive, and suddenly a wave of weakness struck him, making his limbs feel heavy and causing him to sway unsteadily. Makoto saw this out of the corner of his eye.
“Nagisa!” he called out, just a moment too late, as Nagisa fell clean off the starting block into the pool. Haru dived in after him, and in moments Nagisa was out on the poolside, with Rei checking his breathing.
“He’s still breathing, but he’s out like a light. He just fainted out of nowhere.” Rei fretted. “And look.”
Rei pointed at Nagisa’s torso. Where there had once been lightly muscled flesh, there was now a lack of it, and Nagisa’s ribs were protruding slightly from under his skin.
“Gou, fetch Ama-chan-sensei and get her to drive Nagisa home. Rei, will you go with him?” Makoto asked.
“Of course, Makoto-senpai. I’ll let you know once he’s home safely.” Rei lifted the blond boy into his arms and followed Gou into the locker room.
“Oh, Nagisa-kun…” Rei whispered softly, tears forming in his eyes as he looked down at the blond’s skinny frame. “What have you been doing to yourself?”
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I KNOW I KNOW I SAID IT WAS TWO CHAPTERS BUT I NEEDED TO MAKE IT THREE I'M SORRY
> please don't kill me! part three will be up asap!
The next thing Nagisa registered was waking up in the back seat of a car, laying horizontally across the seats. He could see a blurry figure looking down at him, and he blinked groggily.
“Huh…? Where’m I?” he mumbled.
“You’re in Amakata-sensei’s car, Nagisa-kun. We’re taking you home.” Rei’s comforting voice came from above him, and Nagisa finally realised it was Rei he was looking at, and that his head was resting on Rei’s lap. He was dressed in his swim club jacket and his swimsuit, thanks to Rei having the idea to give him some decency before he was carried through the school to the car park.
“Rei-chan… Why am I going home?” Nagisa looked puzzled.
“Nagisa-kun, you don’t remember?” Rei’s voice was full of concern, and this confused Nagisa even further. “You fainted off the starting block and fell in the pool. Haruka-senpai had to dive in and pull you out.”
“I… fainted?” Nagisa tested the words, and they sounded so foreign to him. He sat up slowly, and Rei put out an arm to stop him.
“Stay put, Nagisa-kun, you’re almost home.”
“No… I have to go back to swim practise… I can’t let you guys down…” Nagisa struggled against Rei’s arm.
“Are you insane, Nagisa-kun?! You literally fainted! You’re not in any state to go back to practise!” Rei wrapped both his arms around his friend’s upper body, truly feeling for the first time the extent of Nagisa’s rapid weight loss as his arms met with Nagisa’s ribcage through the thin layer of fabric.
“I need to swim! I need to exercise!” Nagisa protested, immediately uncomfortable at the feeling of Rei’s arms around him. “Let go of me!”
As the blond struggled in Rei’s grip his arms slipped to his stomach. “Nagisa-kun, what you need is to lie down and rest!”
“Stop touching my stomach!” Nagisa yelled, desperately trying to wrench his friend’s arms from around him. “I don’t need you rubbing it in that I’m fat! Leave my stomach alone!”
“What stomach?!” Rei snapped, pulling up Nagisa’s jacket to reveal the boy’s shockingly skinny torso.
“Hey, cut it out!” Nagisa tugged his jacket back down. “Stop acting like you haven’t noticed my weight gain!” Then Nagisa promptly burst into tears. “I’m trying to shift it, I really am, but it won’t go away!”
Rei was stunned into silence as the blond wailed plaintively, burying his face in his hands.
“Ryugazaki-kun, we’re here.” Miss Amakata said softly.
Rei looked up at Nagisa’s house, then back at Nagisa. “Change of plan. I’m taking him to my house. My parents will not be home, and I need to talk to him alone.”
“Of course.” Miss Amakata pulled the car back out onto the road, and at the swerving movement, Nagisa toppled back into Rei’s lap, and he buried his face into the blue-haired boy’s knees. |
d727f33d04574052bc52160985705148 | ['7a7eb420d0b146e1856df7872b192f0f'] | "You're too kind. I must look quite the sight after all that crying. A couple of months of mourning should be enough, though and then everything will be as it should be." Suki smiles as she leans into his touch.
“A couple of months, hm?” Shisui’s tone takes on a light tease, even as he feels for the pulsing of Suki’s blood in her veins. “I suppose it’s proper, but I do hate having to wait to finally make you my wife. Every day, I long to touch you…”
"Yes, it is proper." She nods firmly. "Though we need not forsake each other entirely. I think we can manage a few stolen kisses at the least."
“Yes, I think we can.” Shisui moves his hand to tilt Suki’s head and press a kiss to her warm, soft lips. These past months of virtual celibacy hadn’t been easy. Before he arrived in Marisea, he’d know places where he could ease some stress from time to time, but with Suki…he’d been entirely loyal, no matter the stress he was under.
She returns the kiss and smiles, pulling away reluctantly. "I'm sorry. I'd prefer to be married as soon as possible as well, but we do have to make it look convincing."
“I know.” As much as appearances were inconvenient right now, Shisui knew the importance of them all too well. “But Suki…” A wicked gleam shines in Shisui’s eye. “When the time comes and we are married…I look forward to making a woman out of you. And I promise to make sure you enjoy it thoroughly.”
"I look forward to it as well. I'm sure that I'll benefit quite exceptionally from your thorough...instruction." Suki laughs softly as she throws her arms around her beloved's neck.
Oh, and would it ever be thorough. Shisui’s fingers no longer tremble as he scoops his princess into his arms and strides smoothly towards the large bed laying in the middle of her chambers. “Then I will count the days until I have the freedom to make you mine.” He sits beside her and kisses her once more.
She smiles and returns his kisses with equal fervor. All thoughts of mourning banished from her mind. "As will I, my love. As will I."
A warmth spreads through Shisui’s bones as he sinks down to kiss his princess, suffusing him with a peace that he hadn’t felt in…in much longer than he cared to admit. A hand slips onto the covers next to Suki’s shoulder, his arms moving to cage her against the covers of her bed.
"I can see that you're going to make it rather difficult for me to behave as a proper princess should." Suki runs her fingers through Shisui's hair. "This is the way that it should always be. The two of us together."
“Yes.” Shisui leans affectionately into his princess’ touch, his single eye drinking is the sight of her beautiful form. “There is nothing that will ever threaten to tear us away from one another again.” And if there was, he would strike it down without hesitation or mercy.
She kisses him once more. It seemed that she was already addicted to his kisses. "You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that."
It would be horribly improper for him to stay the night in her bed, but as Shisui lays himself down next to his princess to hold her, to kiss her, he decides that he can forgive himself for being just improper enough to hold her for a little while. At least until she fell asleep.
20. Chapter 20
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> celestia193's Author's Note: Warning...Shisui has a very dirty mouth when he wants to.
There remained a nip in the air outside. Inter had sunk into its depths, requiring that every hearth inside the castle be lit and stoked to drive away the cold. This was especially true as guests both noble and royal, local and foreign mingled about the great halls of the castle, coming together to celebrate victory and alliances forged.
Among the invited guests were members of the royal families of Marisea and Deilen, as well as members from all tiers of the newly reestablished nobility. Itachi had been careful not to alienate anyone, whilst still holding true to his intent to revitalize the capital and spread the growing prosperity out across the kingdom. This celebration alone was proof of that, as it had supplied much-needed employment to tradesmen and artisans across the city. Every lavish commission made to restore the castle, though perhaps unnecessary or superfluous, did the same. And Shisui could be no prouder of Itachi’s skill at maneuvering all of the pieces precisely where he needed them to be.
Himself included, of course. Though he rarely served as a covert agent for his cousin now that it had been two months since the usurper’s head was placed on a pike. Shisui was still of the nobility and from a branch of the royal family. That made him a valuable piece to move about for his king’s purposes.
Purposes that did not specifically include entertaining the ladies of the court. But Shisui knew better than to rudely rebuff their advances and interests. He simply worked to charm them in kind and give them the attention they sought. It was exhausting, but only to be expected as he was, to their knowledge, unattached and at his age, surely looking for a wife. That he was not was hardly common knowledge. Though he doubted that it would remain a secret for very much longer.
Nursing a glass of white wine, Shisui smiles charmingly and bows his head slightly to the gaggle of ladies gathered about him, holding back a sigh of exasperation. “It has been a pleasure making your acquaintances, my ladies. I must see that the guard rotations are taking place smoothly, but I do hope to see you all again later this evening.” | 61801598e7ab4d42b1f6e8cdcd67cc9f | ['7a7eb420d0b146e1856df7872b192f0f'] | Itachi nods and quickly saunters inside. Well, Step One was complete. He had made it inside Alex's house without an incident. Now, onto Step Two. "So what did you have in mind?" He smiles at Alex in what he hopes was a disarming way.
Sasuke blinks, then glances over to the living room. "I thought we could talk some more…get to know each other better." At least a little. "Maybe some…exploration?"
That's about what he expected. "That sounds perfect to me." Itachi smiles and sits on the couch, silently inviting Sasuke to join him.
There was plenty of room on the couch but…instead of trying to maintain a 'comfortable' distance, Sasuke lopes across the room, sliding back into his previous place on Itachi's lap and tucking his head against Itachi's chin. Now…to find something to talk about. "So…what's your family like?" He'd mentioned his father, and Sasuke knew about his cousin, but nothing else, really.
"My family is large and most are gifted in some fashion or another." Itachi smile as he runs he caresses the other man's cheek. "I'm lucky that way."
Oh." So a whole family of psychics, then? That could prove to be a bit difficult to deal with, but Sasuke would cross that bridge when the time came. "So…do you live with your family? Just with your cousin? Or do you live alone back in…" Sasuke frowns. "You're American…but you haven't told me where you're from."
"My family lives in New York." He smiles at him. "Of course, I travel occasionally." Suddenly, he realizes why Alex was becoming increasingly more skittish. "Relax. It's just Shisui and I that live together and my family wouldn't invade someone's privacy like that."
"Okay." New York, huh? Sasuke had been there a couple of times. "Do most of them live close by?"
Oh boy. Here was where things might get tricky. "Yes, we tend to be fairly tightly knit." That was putting it mildly. "Though it's not as though they'll barge in without knocking."
"Hm…" Sasuke tilts his head, trying to imagine it but…failing. "That must be…nice to have family so close." It was nice that Itachi was so honest. "What was school like? You were probably top of your class, right?" Itachi stuck him as the type to excel. "What did you major in at university?"
"Yes, I was." He chuckles and shakes his head in amusement as he remembers Madara's unique style of encouragement when it came to his studies. "My father would have had a hard time accepting anything less of me. I majored in psychology and neuroscience."
Why did that not surprise Sasuke as much as it should have. "Of course. So you're not only psychic, but you know how to use science to mind-fuck people, too."
"I believe in utilizing my gifts to the best of my abilities." He kisses Alex's forehead and tries not to laugh at his annoyance. "Whether they're solely based in magic, science, or some combination. Besides, I can 'mind-fuck' people in enjoyable ways as well."
Sasuke's cheeks heat ever so slightly, but he casts a challenging look at Itachi. "How so?"
"Well there are many ways that I could go about such a thing and different degrees." He smiles. "Of course, the more receptive someone is to the idea, the easier it is to do."
"I see." That could be…something to explore once he got a bit more comfortable with Itachi. "So what was your childhood like? Your cousin seems like he's the adventurous type, so I imagine that you got dragged on a lot of 'outings'."
Far more than he would ever care to admit. Alex was right about that much. Shisui was adventurous. "Well, it is never easy to stand in the shadows of greatness, but I had an ideal childhood otherwise." He smiles. "Though it is a damn near miracle that Shisui's antics didn't get us both killed before adulthood."
Sasuke laughs lightly, imagining a teenage Itachi and the indignant look on his face. "That must have been nice. Minus all the near-death experiences, though."
"It was." He smirks at Alex. "You would have been quite exasperated with the both of us though."
"Probably." Though Sasuke had his fair share of dangerous adventures. None that he could share with Itachi, though. Nevertheless, he smiles against Itachi's neck. "Your turn." After all, while he couldn't tell Itachi much, he could at least help the man get some sense of who he was.
"How long have you known Gaara?" It seemed like a safe topic for him to broach. "The two of you do seem close."
"Since I was seventeen." Seven years now, and it felt like so much longer. Sasuke smiles wryly. "He basically took me in seven years back and I haven't been able to get rid of him."
"I doubt you really want to." He smiles at him.
"Yeah, I guess not." Not that Sasuke thought getting rid of an old Irish vampire would be easy, but… "Temari can be a pain at times, but I know she cares."
He nods at that. Itachi couldn't help but feel a little tongue tied. Maybe Alex would have another question. "Yes, that's the impression that I'm getting." He smiles and places a soft kiss to Alex's ear.
Sasuke shivers, tilting his head slightly as the lobe of his ear slides between Itachi's lips. "Y-yeah…" Hm, maybe letting Temari pierce his ears was a better idea than he thought. If Itachi had something to tug on… "S-so, anything else?"
"Well I want to ask plenty, but I never know what is safe." He kisses his ear again. "I don't want to trigger any unpleasantness."
And there was the issue that Sasuke knew was going to be a serious roadblock. "Well…honestly, there's not much that's really comfortable to talk about, but…if it's really bad, then I just don't talk about it at all." |
03a6d80a22e546ffb813d85d00e40d8d | ['7a950b2246944c708a7e3fb1ebba2d24'] | Megan hid behind the door and laughed as quietly as she could, large tears of mirth flowing down her cheeks. Holly was practically in a coma and Campenella was looking downright flabbergasted herself.
Finally, the buxom brunette shook her head and mumbled something about getting a drink as Campenella turned to stare at her friend who was still snorting behind her hand. "Holy shit...oh my golly gosh gee darn, fuck a polecat, whoa!"
"Relax!" Megan managed to get out. "Jim's ears are-heh, kind of sensitive. He probably just overheard us and went along with the joke."
Henri Brown, who was passing by on the way to his desk, asked, "What joke?"
"I hope it's not that dumb one about the lobster and the pussy cat," Rafe muttered following close behind. "I've already heard it three times today."
"We were playing a prank on Holly," Megan said.
"Holly?" Rafe asked curiously.
"Big tits, no morals, dresses like Steve Bucco down in Vice," Campenella responded.
"Oh yeah, I like her," Rafe leered.
"You would," Megan said dryly.
"What was the prank?" H asked.
"It was nothing," Campenella shrugged. "Besides, Jim and that dude Sandburg got us back."
"How?"
"We just saw them kissing in the elevator," Megan began.
"And?" the men asked together.
"What do you mean 'and'?" Campenella asked. "They were kissing in the elevator."
"So? Big deal, they do it all the time," H walked over toward the lounge. "Anybody put up some fresh coffee yet?"
"Hell, you should have seen what they were doing the last time we were on stakeout together," Rafe muttered. "A growing boy like myself shouldn't be seeing stuff like that."
The two female cops stood as still as statues as the world tilted around them.
"Rafe?"
"Uh, Detective Brown?"
"Guys?!?"
The End | 6520d3ee28cc4551ab9220d799291451 | ['7a950b2246944c708a7e3fb1ebba2d24'] | "It has to be said, dude," Chuckie sighed. "Somebody out there is writing this shit and that means someone here did the musky butt funk dive. Just remember, crack kills, m'kay?"
"Objection noted!" Jim looked green around the gills and Blair was still trying to scrub the image from his mind.
"Man, have you seen what he eats?!?" Blair asked, "I don't even eat Wonderburgers fresh from the drive through much less recycled!"
"Actually, it's usually Jimbo doin' the dive, but it might be a whole...heh heh 'hole'ahem, the whole cunnilingus transference thing."
"I don't get it," Blair shook his head in bewilderment.
"He means that you're the girl," Jim clarified.
"I'm NOT the girl!"
"No comment," Jim grinned saucily.
"I'll give you a comment, you sonovabitch..!"
"Okay dudes, it's been swell but I got a pot pie in the oven and nude midget mud wrestling is on in ten minutes so I'm gonna split." Chuckie got up and dusted off his loincloth causing dust and various other things to fall ever so gently toward Jim's once clean floor. Already the big cop was eyeing his vacuum cleaner in anticipation of the cherub's exodus.
"It's a shame you have to leave so soon," Blair said politely but with a definite look of relief.
"Oh, I could stay I suppose..." Chuck shrugged.
"Nonononononono!!!!" Both men said at once.
"You sure?" the cherub asked politely. "I mean, it's prolly just reruns..."
"Positive! Enjoy your...whatever," Jim's smile was more than a little desperate at this point.
"Well, okay..." As Chuck turned his back so he could gather up his paperwork, Jim reached up and smacked Blair in the back of his head. A silent argument ensued in which words such as 'what the hell were you thinking of' and 'fuck you, I was being polite,' were mouthed silently and punctuated with several long sweeping gestures, mostly pointed towards Chuck's considerable ass.
"See ya, dudes!" Chuck said with a grin as he turned back toward him. Blair and Jim snapped back to attention and offered him bright, huge smiles that showed more teeth than sincerity.
"Hey, ah, before you go, how do we know if we passed or whatever?" Blair asked curiously.
"Oh, well, if you don't disintegrate you're prolly okay," Chuck grinned, and with a sudden shimmer of light and the sound of air being displaced, he was gone.
"Why doesn't that make me feel better?" Blair wondered aloud.
" _sniff_ Ah GOD! What is that stench!?!" Jim grabbed his nose and fell back several inches.
"Ohoh whoa, ah shit man, open a window!!!" Blair put his hand over his mouth and ran out of the room, "Damn, you think he coulda done that after he left!"
"Fart Bombed by an Angelthink anybody'd believe us, Chief?" Jim coughed.
"Sentinels, spirit animals, ghosts, voodoo, angelswhat's not to believe?" Blair shrugged before opening the window and breathing in the clean, sweet air outside.
Jim joined him and after a few minutes of doing nothing more than sucking in oxygen, he grinned at his partner devilishly, "Y'know, just in case we do go 'poof'..."
"Yeah?" Blair prodded.
"Wanna go have a little fun before we get our asses cancelled?"
"Well, what did you have in mind?"
* * *
Chuck stepped off the elevator and the second his sandaled foot hit the dirty ozone of the cloud, four angels were crowded around him, talking at the same time.
"What happened?"
"Did you fuck it up?!?"
"You were only gone for, like, thirty minutesforty-five tops!"
"Did you bring me anything?"
"SHUT UP!" Marva yelled and the crowd parted so she could elbow her way toward Chuck, "Now, did you fix it or am I gonna have to rip yer wings off and shove 'em up your ass?"
"Ow," Mel winced sympathetically.
"Hey, that's nothing compared to what _I'LL_ do to him if we get our walking papers," TJ threatened.
"Do shut up TJ," Wilson glared.
"I guess I fixed it," Chuck shrugged then walked past the four angels so he could collapse on the couch with a sigh before picking up the remote and flipping through the channels.
"You guess?!?" TJ exploded. "You mean you don't know?!?"
"They didn't, like, explode or nothin' so I guess it's okay," Chuck picked up a warm beer from the coffeetable and took a sip. "Oh man, the Nude Midget Female Mud Wrestling Championship Finals are on!"
"Gimme the friggin' remote!" Marva snatched the small device from the cherub's grubby fist and flipped it to the fanfiction channel.
"But Rolanda was about to take down Juicy Lucy with the Triple Tongued Nipple Grip!" Chuck whined.
TJ smacked Chuck on the back of the head, "Shaddup!"
"Hey!" Chuck turned to TJ with a frown, "Thatow!!!"
Wilson smacked him on the back of the head in the same place TJ had just a moment ago, "Hush!"
"Fuck this man, I'm sitting over by Melvin," Chuckie griped as he got up to sit next to the younger angel on the broken down loveseat.
"Is it all right?" Wilson asked, wringing his hands nervously.
"I dunno yet," Marva continued to puff away, her expression tense.
On the small television set, Roma Downey and Kathy Lee Gifford were interviewing some guy in a chef's outfit.
"I just love Devil's Food!" Kathy Lee said with a huge white toothed grin.
"I do too!" Roma tittered, "So, how did ye say ya made yer cookies, Lucifer? I can call ye Lucifer, can't I?"
"Be my guest! Anyway, you take two cups flour, one half cup cocoa, six tortured souls, three eggs---"
//WE INTERRUPT THIS PROGRAM FOR SOME LATE BREAKING NEWS!//
Suddenly, Freddie Mercury appeared on screen sitting behind a news desk in pearls and a short skirted mini dress suit which showed off his thick mustache to perfection, "Good evening Heaven, this is Freddie Mercury bringing you a late breaking report from the Celestial Council." |
f99f8ceeed1f4e00952ce6310276aa2d | ['7a95cf0501b4431ba76d71ab1d95645f'] |
1. Pilot
Characters
Thomas karver aka the freedom fighter
Walter O'Neil aka pyromancer
Mila graves aka the mind
James Yuri
Jax Hilton aka the caretaker
Screech aka tai Wayne
Crunch aka Brock Brennen
Flare aka Charlotte fox
Michael karver
Rita karver
Seargent Jake Penn
Scene1
(12 years ago)
Thomas-12 years ago my parents were invited to a Christmas yacht party. That was were where they were murdered
Michael-rita this is a fine party I'm surprised we were even invited we aren't even rich
Rita-we are good friends with the O'Neils and this is their party
Richard-michael rita why are you out here and not where the party is rita-we needed some air. Oh and thanks for letting thomas sleep over
Richard-no problem. I almost forgot Jaime is looking for you rita she's over by the bar
(Rita leaves)
Michael-thanks again for inviting us
Richard-your family is close to ours how could we not invite you besides....
Jax-on the floor bitchs
(Screams)
Jax-screech show them a real scream
Screech -haha my pleasure
(Screeches)
Michael-my ears
Jax-you should be worrying about your life mister
(Jax slits Michaels throat)
Richard-no! Michael
Jax-youre next Mr.O'Neil
(Richard tries to fight back but max put his knife in his throat
Jax-crunch flare gather everyone on this ship and kill them then throw them overboard
Jaime- Richard!!!!!!
Jax-stupid bitch
(Jax throws his knife at Jaime and it kills her)
Rita-please i have a son
Jax-i simply don't care
(Jax slits Rita's throat)
Jax-throw these four off the boat and into the ocean
Screech-yes caretaker
Jax-you are caretakers now
Scene2
(Present day)
Thomas-we are the heroes this city deserves
Pyromancer-tell us where the caretakers are
Caretaker- never you pricks
The mind-its okay I know where they are now. drop him
(Pyromancer drops the goon)
Penn-stand down you vigilantes
Freedom fighter-yuri now
(They drop a smoke pellet and a helicopter picks them up)
Penn-damn... I almost had them
Cole-sir did you get them
Penn-what does it look like Cole .. Son of a bitch
Cole-did they say anything
Penn-yes they said yuri... Get my daughter in this case tell her to look up the name
Cole-sir with all due respect she's your daughter you ask her
Penn-youre dating her besides she won't listen to me
Cole-fine I'll get to it
Penn-also pick up some flowers for her
Scene3
(Cole leaves the flourist)
Jax-are you cole Brennen
Cole-yea why
(Whistles)
Cole-huh
(Jaxs men knock cole out )
(Later)
Jax-so you're close to seargent Penn
Cole-yes I'm dating his daughter what's this about
Jax-revenge
Cole-wait you're jax Hilton you should be dead the sarg shot and killed you
Jax-that was a person who had surgery to look like me. He sacrificed himself for the caretakers
Cole-what do you want from me
Jax-i want you to send a message to Mr.penn
Cole-tell me and ill relay the message to him
Jax-its not what need to be heard its what need to be seen that gets the message across
Cole-please don't kill me
Jax-you know my parents begged for me not to kill them but I slit their throats just like I did to the people on that cruise 12 years ago and just like I'm gonna do to you.
(The heroes break in)
Screech-crunch flare get jax out of here
Crunch-you got it screech
(They escape)
Screech -this is our third encounter freedom fighter
Freedom fighter -and this time it ends
(Screech screams)
Freedom fighter - I have headphones that block your Screech's
Mind-f we got the hostage
Pyromancer-come on f there's always a next time
(Freedom fighter throws a smoke pellet)
Scene4
Cole-thanks... You know for vigilantes you are heroes
Freedom fighter-mind.. Wipe his memory approximately 15 minutes
Mind-im on it
(Mind wipes his memory
Cole-where am I .... You're the vigilantes
(They escape)
Cole-son of a bitch
(Later)
Mila-thomas take your mask off
(Mila takes thomas' mask off)
Thomas-thanks
(Thomas kisses mila)
James-break it up love birds weve got work to do
To be continued
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2. The Caretakers Reign
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The continuation of the protectors
Characters
Thomas aka freedom fighter
Walter aka pyromancer
Mila aka the mind
James Yuri
Jax
Screech
Crunch
Flare
Jake Penn
Cole Brennen
Dawn Penn
Comishiner Stevenson
Det. Ming Chang
Det. George black
Mason myers
Scene1
(Door opens)
Penn- commisioner don't take off the case. After jax killed my wife and son I swore to take the caretakers down
Stevenson -you killed jax though
Penn-hes still alive it was just a double
Black-sir we've got a lead on the vigilantes
(Chang shoots black in the head)
Penn-comishiner get down
(Gunshots)
Penn-stand down chang
Chang-for the caretakers
(Penn shoots chang)
Penn-why did you do this?
Chang-the caretakers are back
(Chang dies)
(Penn contacts the ER)
Penn-this is seargent jake penn from the apache city police department I need an ambulance asap we got 2 dead and the commissioner is injured severely. I'll try to stop the bleeding
Scene2
Thomas-heres your coffee mila
Mila-thanks
Thomas-so where do we go from here
James-there was just a shooting at the acpd
Walter-Now that's just stupid
James-it was a caretakers assault they are coming back into full power over the city
Thomas-we know they're coming back
James-it doesn't seem they are coming in full strength though
Thomas-they want you to think that then they'll wipe you out. They will take out the crosses the aces the blackhawks etc...
Walter-how do you assume?
James- they took out all the gangs in their first rule just before the cruise massacre. Jax is a psycho he sang the lullaby his mother sang to them just before he slit her throat too
Scene3
Jax-we are closer to rule. We will save this city from the heroes that are destroying its beautiful potential
Crunch-what kind of potential boss
Jax-the destructive kind crunch. Chang succeeded he was the pawn . the comishiner is in critical condition
Screech-jax seargent jake penn Is acting commissioner until stevenson recovers | e48783931e904758afc4cfd674eba6be | ['7a95cf0501b4431ba76d71ab1d95645f'] | Jax-thats if he recovers. Send mason myers to finish the job
Flare-are you sure that's a wise idea
Jax-mason knows what he's doing. Oh yea kill Penn's daughter crunch
Crunch -yes sir
Scene4
Dawn-dad I found something on that Yuri guy you wanted me to find. I found no one with the first name but I did find out that its someones last name
Penn-whats his first name then?
Dawn - james... James Yuri
Penn-i know that name
Dawn-i gotta get going talk to you later I love you
(Dawn hangs up the phone )
Crunch-dawn penn
Dawn-yea that's me but why are you in my apartment
Crunch-I'm sorry
Dawn-wha...why
(Gunshot)
(Crunch leaves)
(Later)
Cole-knock knock babe
(Cole opens the door)
Cole- what the hell.... Dawn no!! Baby baby speak to me. I can't lose you......... I will find the people who did this to you I will do what the police cannot. I will become one of the people we've always been hunting I will become a vigilante I will become revenge
(Cole picks up a cell phone )
Acpd officer-hello this is the acpd
Cole-yes hi there has been a murder in apartment complex 25 on Broadway road 3rd floor room 305 her name is dawn penn
Acpd officer- what is your name sir
Cole- cole brennen
(Cole hangs up the phone)
Cole-goodbye my love
(Cole escapes through the window)
(Sirens)
(The door breaks down)
Penn-no not you too
(Penn starts to cry)
Williams - sir you're gonna want to know that cole Brennen made the call
Penn- find him and bring him in you got me frank
Williams-yes sir
Scene5
Mason-commissioner stevenson this is a package for you
Stevenson-thank you Mr.myers
(Mason leaves the room)
(Mason contacts screech)
Mason-blow it
(Boom)
To be continued
3. Revenge
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The continuation of the protectors
Characters
Thomas aka the freedom fighter
Walter aka pyromancer
Mila aka the mind
James Yuri
Jax
Cole aka revenge
Commissioner jake penn
Screech
Crunch
Flare
Detective frank williams
Casper drake
Mason myers
Scene1
(2 months later)
Cole-ive been training for 2 months just so I could get my revenge. I am the hunter of the caretakers. I am revenge
(Cole picks up his mask and stares at it)
Cole-i will avenge you dawn
(Cole puts on the mask)
(Cole goes to a night club called midnight)
Revenge-where is your boss?
Bouncer - in his office upstairs just don't kill me
Revenge- as far as I know you're not involved with the caretakers. But if I find out that you killed my girlfriend I will kill you now go... And find a new job cause this place is closing
(The bouncer runs away)
(Inside)
Casper-jax the money is in. Midnight is the most successful nightclub in apache city in years
Jax-good to here that. Send the money to my account. I've gotta go there's a meeting with the aces I must attend
(Casper hangs up the call)
(Revenge breaks in)
Casper-who are you?
Revenge-my name is revenge.. Now you answer my question fatass. Where is jax?
Casper-only his lieutenants know where he is?
Revenge-then where are they?
Casper-i don't know!! I don't know!!!!!
Revenge-dont lie to me
Casper-im not
Revenge-fine I'll find another way
Casper-dont mess with jax he'll kill you
Revenge-ill kill him first
(Freedom fighter enters)
Casper-kill him vigilante
Freedom fighter- stand down
Revenge-never
(Revenge stabs casper with his claws)
Revenge-im sorry
(Revenge dives out of the window)
Freedom fighter-shit james call the cops and tell them that there's a body at the midnight club we've got another problem
Scene2
Thomas-this man is dangerous
Walter-who is he
James-my guess is that he is the police officer who killed the commissioners daughter two months back
Mila-cole Brennen he was the kid we saved just before jax was about to kill him
Thomas -there's something more to this
Mila-you think jax set cole up and killed Penn's daughter
Thomas-sounds like jax
Walter-somethings on your moniter james
James-its cole he's at the apache city hospital looks like he's going to interrogate mason myers who is still suffering from major burns still. Better get suited up
Thomas-you heard him come on
Scene3
Mason -why are you here
Revenge-youre working with jax Hilton
Mason -you're crazy
Revenge-no just vengeful now where's jax you prick
Mason-he switch's from place to place
Revenge-fine give me one of the places and I'll work my way up
Mason- under the abandoned museum
Revenge-if its not there and you were lying to me I'll come back and kill you
Freedom fighter-cole stop this
Revenge-i can't dawn needs to be avenged
Freedom-you can't do this alone. We can help you
Revenge-i will kill him
(Revenge jumps out of the window)
Pyromancer-well shit
Freedom fighter - come on lets go
Scene4
(Cole opens his door)
Cole-ill kill you jax
(Cole punches the mirror)
Jax-oh really Mr.Brennen
To be continued
4. Not Alone
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The Continuation
Characters
Thomas aka freedom fighter
Walter aka pyromancer
Mila aka the mind
Cole aka revenge
Jax
James
Commissioner Penn
Frank Williams
Screech
Flare
Crunch
Scene1
Jax- oh really Mr. Brennen
Cole-what are you doing here
Jax-i just wanted to have a chat... Flare burn him
(Cole grabs his claw)
Cole-get back
Flare-foolish boy you don't scare me
Crunch-sir let me
Jax-no this ones flares
(Crunch attacks flare)
Crunch-run kid
(Cole grabs his gear and runs)
Jax-screech get him
Screech-yes sir
(Screech leaves)
Flare-you traitor
Jax-kill the fucker
Flare-my pleasure
Crunch-you forget who I am?
(Crunch punches through the floor)
Flare-shall I get him
Jax-no he'll just come back when he's bored of being the good guy
Flare-yes sir
(Meanwhile)
Screech- come on out boy
Revenge-he is gone there is just revenge
Screech-too bad I was gonna have some fun and kill him now I guess you'll be the victim
(Mind uses her powers to push screech)
Screech- this isn't the end
(Screech runs away)
Freedom fighter- are you ok cole?
Revenge-just fine |
1dfdaaf5e70143bb929cf140c37a9cdb | ['7ae2ef3037bc412a9a052cf29707122b'] | Naruto was happy to finally spent some time with Kakashi again and talked aimlessly about the things that had happened since they last saw each other. Kakashi hummed or asked a few things in between was the perfect audience, never annoyed at him for talking too much. But rather comfortable with the easy banter between the two of them.
It hadn't been a lie when he had said that they hadn't really seen each other since his entrance ceremony. He was always on the run, either going on a mission or coming home from one looking exhausted. And catching him in between had been nearly impossible.
He had come over for dinner once in that year. Once! It had been nice seeing him again and talking a bit, but that had been cut short when a messenger bird had come and summoned both his dad and Kakashi. He had been angry at the council for a month after that and made life for them a living hell with his constant pranks on them.
Looking at Kakashi as they walked side by side, nose in his book again, he saw that his tenseness from before had faded and that his usual lazy slouch had come back, indicating that he was at ease again. Something must have made him uncomfortable earlier but Naruto couldn't figure out what. But he was also only seven and some of the things adults liked to talk about went right over his head, so maybe it was something like that.
“Ano? Kakashi?”, he asked after a while of seemingly aimless wandering over the festival and drawing ever nearer the end of it. Kakashi hummed in acknowledgement.
“Where are we going?”
“You wanted to see the fireworks display did you not?”
“Yeah!”, he grinned and nodded enthusiastically.
“Well, wouldn't it be nice to have a good view?”, at that he looked at him and gave another of his eye smiles, that Naruto wasn't sure as to how he managed them.
Excited he bounced in place “So you'll be taking me somewhere with a good view of the fireworks 'ttebayo? Awesome!” and raced forward to the end of the festival, Kakashi trotting lazily behind.
Something caught Narutos attention from the corner of his eye at one of the last stalls in the area and he went over to see what it had been. Various knickknacks were being sold there, but what had caught his attention were the keychains.
Keychains in every variation. Small or big. Plain or intricate. Colourful or basic. There were ones which looked like objects and some that looked like animals or something other altogether.
The animals where the ones his eyes had caught. A fox one more specific. It was an orange fox, but had nine tails.
“Ah you're interested in the kitsune?”, the old shopkeeper asked as she studied his gaze fixed on the item.
“It kinda looks like Kurama.”, he whispered not really paying attention to what the shopkeeper said about kitsune and their legends. But Kakashi had heard him, standing directly behind him and eyeing the keychain that had pulled Narutos full concentration.
“Kurama?”, he prodded.
“Yeah.”, came the distant reply, even to Narutos own ears. A flash of something bigger than himself. Water under his feet. The pacing of big claws and the rumble of a dark voice screaming in frustration. Then it was gone, leaving behind the feeling of loss and wrongness.
“Who's that?”, Kakashi asked further.
“I'm not sure....”, Naruto said not knowing what to do about the image he had just seen. At Kakashis arched eyebrow he shook his head and smiled up at him.
“Forget it. It's not important.” Kakashi a hummed but Naruto wasn't sure he would let it go.
Turning to go, he heard Kakashi ask the shopkeeper “How much?” With disbelieve written all over his face, Naruto turned around again to see Kakashi take out a few coins.
“You don't have to buy it.”, he protested.
“I know.”, Kakashi simply said with a smile hidden by his mask.
After the exchange of coins Kakashi held the kitsune keychain out to Naruto.
“You really didn't need to.”, he murmured blushing but took the offered item.
“I know.”, Kakashi simply repeated. Smiling Naruto tugged the keychain carefully away and followed Kakashi.
After they crossed the last street with stalls Naruto could see the little river that flowed through Konoha and that had its riverbank near the festival. In the distance he could see a lot of people huddling together.
“Why are we here and not over there by the others?”, he asked confused.
“Well from here we have the perfect view for the fireworks.” Naruto frowned, not entirely sure that that was the only reason for them being here. But the music from the festival still drifted to where they were and Kakashi was with him so it was all the same for him.
He sat down at the edge of the riverbank, humming in tune with the music and playing with the grass under his fingers.
“Here.”, Kakashi sat down, holding out a mug to him, having another one in his other hand.
“When did you get these?”, Naruto asked with wide eyes. He took the mug from Kakashi and sniffed at the contents. Hot cocoa.
“Wouldn't you like to know?”, he mused, grinning under that mask of his.
“Stingy!”, Naruto said, taking a sip of his drink. “Thank you.”, he added.
Realizing that Kakashi also had a drink, Naruto fixed his gaze on him. He had to take of that damn mask off too drink, he was sure of it. But then Kakashi lifted the mug to his lips and drank the contents. Through the mask! How was that even possible?
At Narutos frustrated growl Kakashi looked over at him and chuckled.
“Why won't you take of your mask?”, Naruto asked for what felt like the thousands time.
“It's a secret.”, he answered, like always, and smiling he added “Maybe I'll show it to you when you're older.”
“But you say that every time!”, he exclaimed frustrated, pulling at his hair. “When am I old enough to see?”
“Who knows?”
But before Naruto could complain about the unfairness of it all, light exploded over their heads, illuminating the night in colourful blips. And then another went off and then another and another. Telling a story of light and darkness.
His mouth hang open and his eyes sparkled with joy as he watched the firework. It was amazing and better than he had imagined it. He skidded closer to Kakashi, poking his right side and pointed laughing at the lights above their heads.
He didn't know how he got home after that, but the last thing he remembered were gentle hands and a strong back he was pressed against. Silver hair tickling his nose as he was being carried and the smell of a rainstorm and books bringing a smile to his face as he was falling asleep.
**Author's Note:**
> I have to thank Seidraikiri for the support and everyone who left kudos at the last instalment of this series. Without you guy I wouldn't have written any of this. So big Thank You!!! to all of you and I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it. Advice and/or critic is always welcome.
Again I'm not sure when the next one shot will be out, though it will probably take longer than this one. I still have a few ideas but deciding on one is super hard and work is really exhausting at the moment. So please be patient with me. Love you guys :** | 87b3458f3d7d49b98300ae52579a8227 | ['7ae2ef3037bc412a9a052cf29707122b'] | Spiderman smirked and began to work on the belt again, now that Wade wasn't holding him back anymore. Letting himself lean on the air vent for support he closed his eyes. Spideys fingers were making fast progress with his belt and in seconds it was lying on the rooftop with a thud.
Now he could feel how his pants were unzipped and slightly pulled down. As a last attempt to stop Spidey from seeing things he might not want to, not even in his nightmares, Wade opened his eyes and grasped Spideys shoulder.
He was now kneeling in front of him face inches away from his crotch and looking up to him.
Swallowing he said, “It's just,... that this....”, he pointed at the exposed skin on his face, “...this is how I look everywhere. You probably don't want to see that so....”
“Deadpool...”, Spidey takes a hold of Wades iron grip on his shoulder and lets his thump caress his hand, “....I don't care about that.” And with that he takes Wades hand and kissed his palm.
That gesture was more intimate than anything Spidey could have done to him, so he does the only thing he can, cry.
“Hey, sh, it's ok. I'm not going anywhere.”
Spiderman, now on his feet again, cups his cheeks and leans his forehead against his. His mask was getting damp from all his crying but he couldn't give a damn.
Spiderman said that he didn't care about his skin. This had to be a dream, how else could this be real? Then he was feeling the brush of lips on his lips, on his jaw, on his neck. Featherlight and exhilarating. He whimpered and groaned with each kiss to his sensitive skin.
Crushing their mouths together again, it's as if they never stopped. Tasting and teasing and licking until both of them were panting hard, gasping for air.
Slowly Spiderman went on his knees again, hands gripping the waistband of his boxers, head cocked to the side and looking up, asking for permission and Wade nodded.
Slipping his boxers down, Wades cock sprung free, aching to be touched. There is already precum dripping out of the head.
Spidey licks his lips in anticipation it seems and then he grips Wades member at the base and gives it a long, slow stroke, rubbing his thumb over his slit and smearing the precum all over his dick as he strokes back. Wade moans and almost comes undone if Spidey hadn't gripped is base as hard as he had, refusing his release. “No, not yet.”
After a second of panting and squirming, the heat that had risen in his abdomen settled down again and he could think again.
Spidey licked the hole side of his shaft, from the base to the head. He shuddered and moaned and if he weren't leaning so hard on the air vent as he was, he probably would have fallen to the ground.
Spidey was taking the head in his mouth, circling it with his tongue.
Inch by inch, excruciatingly slow, he took more and more of his erect member in his mouth until his nose was were his pubic hair would be.
Wade had to bite his lip, not to grab Spidermans head and just fuck senselessly into his mouth.
He held still, letting Spidey do whatever he wanted. After a small break, where both of them seemed to struggle to retain their composure, Spiderman began to bob his head. Licking and sucking and using just a tiny bit of teeth.
It was heaven. Wade had died and gone to heaven. His hand, out of his control, had found Spideys head, holding onto it, not directing.
A moan erupted from Spidey lips and that shot heat from his shaft into his abdomen, rising and rising and
“Oh god Spidey I'm gonna,.... I can't....” All his restrains broken, he bucked into the velvet mouth that was around him, once, twice, searching for that sweet, sweet release until....
Peter shifted uncomfortably on his spot, food still in his hand.
Deadpool was uncharacteristically quiet and staring at him for at least five minutes straight. His face must be as red as a tomato right now because of it.
“Ehm... Deadpool? You ok?” There was no reaction, so Peter tried to wave his hand in front of Deadpools face. Still no reaction.
“Ok, this is creeping me out. You win. You can stop now.” But Deadpool was still not reacting.
Reaching out to touch Deadpool he hesitated, but then brushed his fingertips on his shoulder.
“Deadpool?”, he asked quietly.
Deadpool seems to recoil at the touch, panting and looking anywhere but him. He seems disoriented and at the verge of breaking down, muttering to himself and clutching his head.
Alarmed Peter stood, wanting to help him, but not knowing how. He reached out, grazing his back, but Deadpool shied away from his touch.
“Don't... don't touch me. You shouldn't.” And just like that, Deadpool gets up, runs to the fire escape and vanishes from his view.
It didn't even take 5 seconds for him to do so.
“Deadpool, no, wait.”, but as Peter himself reached the fire escape he saw Deadpool limp-running out of view.
What had happened, that Deadpool was in such a panic? Obviously it was something Peter had done, but he couldn't for the life of him say what it was.
Deciding that Peters presence probably wasn't gonna help, he let Deadpool sort that out on his own. He rolled down his mask and gathered the leftovers, which was a lot, and decided to go home for tonight and come back tomorrow.
He would wait for Deadpool on this rooftop, though they hadn't decided where and when to meet for patrol. Or even _if_ at all, after Deadpools stampede right now. But Peter promised to team up, so, he at least would wait for him tomorrow. |
50b83f05f0ef4f9fab8e401710b87823 | ['7afc40bef55c47ac9ea193e56e747661'] | Alistair smiled wider for his wife. “I have no objections,” he agreed. “Still.” He looked up and around. Not enough time had passed to memorize the palace. The carvings in beams and ceiling paintings were some of many wonders for Alistair to admire of his new life. “For two clueless Wardens,” he met her eyes, “with a delusional general and an _entire race_ against them, I don’t think we came out too bad.” The corner of his mouth hardened into another smirk. _“And,_ we are _officially married_ now.” He shrugged his eyebrows to exaggerate his smile. She giggled at his playfulness, and Alistair's heart thumped. _The perfect smile._ He still remembered the first time he saw her smile: she'd captured his heart then, as she did all over again now. He brought the back of her hand up to his lips. “Your Majesty.” Alistair held her gaze.
“We were _officially_ married over a year ago,” she reminded, her smirk stretched lop-sided. “And don’t you forget that again,” she used his own tease against him.
Alistair grinned, biting his bottom lip while he searched her eyes. “This means we get _two anniversaries,_ right? _Two_ special trips to Orzammar for more… _souvenirs?”_ She yielded to his charms again, a sweet grin flushing her cheeks even in the late night candlelight. _So beautiful her smile lit up the room._ Alistair closed his arms and his cloak around his wife with his lips to her forehead.
For a moment, they were _still._ Breath and arms and _finally peace_ since they’d met. The feeling of assurance that flooded Alistair all day had no words of expression. _He was where he wanted to be,_ for the rest of his life. Everything had been worth it. _Everything._
So _perfect_ and _right_ Alistair heard the ballroom minstrels play again in his head. He hummed a few notes before gathering his wife in his arms and twirling her right there. Still all legs _but agile enough to fool dunk nobles,_ Alistair never danced before their public wedding. Brief lessons from Teagan and Fergus days before were nothing compared to the music that drove his feet when Alistair held his bride across the polished dance floor. Seeing Tess there, _forever his wife now,_ blooming like the most beautiful rose, inspired his heart and so his feet. Like love inspired him now; wife back in his arms, her heartbeat guiding the imaginary song. She braced him like she had in the ballroom, her feet followed his again; she let him lead her anywhere. _Perfect. He would dance forever with her._ His hum got lost in her lingering lips.
“Are you too tired to dance to bed?” he murmured.
“Dance _to_ or dance _in?”_ she guessed between kisses.
Another grin broke out. “I’m glad _you_ said it. Saves me from _begging,”_ he said into her mouth. A giggle got lost in lips. Arms slid up his shoulders and clasped around him; another kiss, another sigh. Alistair picked up his wife and carried her upstairs. _Love;_ the best dance he could ever dream up. _Forever perfect now._
**_TESS:_ **
_Alistair doesn’t speak when he follows me to the roof anymore._
_Where the Archdemon died._
_…_ **_If_ ** _it died? Bah. I don’t want to think about that._
_I find myself back up here every other day, now. The first few times, Alistair asked what I hoped to find or if I was saying goodbye. He doesn’t ask anymore though. My husband stands or paces at the other end of Fort Drakon’s roof while I walk where I remember Urthemiel dying. Today Alistair is shaping snow to resemble a mabari and a lumpy woman with large snow bosoms; me and Po, I assume._
_Alistair said the Archdemon looked charred after it died, but there are no marks when I kick the powder away. Snow melting under winter sun then re-coating itself has washed away all trace of whatever happened when I drove Rose._
_Yet still I feel him. Without darkspawn or other Wardens, my Taint is a low hum that circulates my entire body. If ever I doubted veins and arteries, my Taint sure made them known. Now, though…_
_I feel Alistair’s eyes on me as I stop at the last place I stood before I decided to kill the ancient dragon._
_The more I recall the swarm of essence when I ended Urthemiel’s life, the more I feel it in myself. His soul, his magic; still not sure what it was. I feel it every day as strong as when my Rose won against Urthemiel’s brain. If I sit and focus on it, it feels thicker, like warm jelly wherever I feel it the most. Makes me think I can will it to any party of my body; if I could dare myself to. Reminds me of how the Circle teaches children to harness their mana._
_I don’t know how to ask Alistair about this. Is that what happened? Did I take the Archdemon’s mana? Maker, if the Chantry finds out…_
_It has been four months since I climbed Urthemiel and stabbed him with a rose. Whatever this is inside me hasn’t waned a bit. Lying comatose with non-stop healing, it seems, did not affect it._
_Alistair slipped out with Zevran and Eirik to the tavern an hour ago. I’m in his study right now; all the good books are here. I’ve been in here scouring books since he left, but not a single report on Grey Wardens or Blights mentions anything of an Archdemon left behind. Weisshaupt is out of the question: lazy First Warden didn’t bother lifting a finger during the Blight even when news traveled of the defeat at Ostagar. How can I trust him with_ ** _this?_** _Maybe the Shaperate has something on this? Kardol said he found the remains of an Archdemon once..._ | 9cb46d36e06b41b9a20232a0c759fcc2 | ['7afc40bef55c47ac9ea193e56e747661'] | _“Seriously,_ you two, stop that, or you’ll have to clean my stomach off the floor.” Fergus clanked the spoon in his teacup.
Alistair pulled back from his wife’s lips embarrassed but grinning. He wet the corner of his mouth and reached for his tea. Tess frowned into hers. “This is _your_ fault, Fergus,” she grumbled.
_“My_ fault?” Fergus chuckled.
_“One day you’ll meet someone who can handle you, mark my words.”_ Tess did her best impression of Fergus’ voice. “Some of your last words to me before you rode off.” Alistair looked from Tess to Fergus, who wore a shameless grin. Harmless sibling teasing that _by providence_ came true.
“Little did I know he’d be my welcoming party at Ostagar. I suppose, though,” Fergus paused for a sip, “I’m more surprised to see _this."_ He gestured to Tess and the arm Alistair had around her waist. " _Relieved,_ rather, to see you two acting like Mother and Father. When I heard you were married, I expected a political arrangement, like Maric and Rowan all over again.”
“I _do_ have my own general.” Alistair nodded, though he’d never considered the similarities between himself and his father winning the rebellion.
Pádraig’s cup stopped before it reached his mouth. Alistair did a double take at his friend, only to stifle a giggle at Pádraig’s accusing stare. “If you even _think_ of making me Teyrn of Gwaren -!”
Alistair laughed louder than he should have. Such a dark joke considering the fate that ended _Maric’s_ general only moments ago. Teagan grinned like he regretted finding humor in it.
“Pádraig and Fergus, _both_ of you are forbidden to have daughters. If you think I’m joking, _just try_ to have sex.” Tess was the only one who wasn’t amused. The dark _joke_ was no longer funny.
Alistair rubbed her back. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry, you’re right, that’s was horrible. But, love, we can’t marry our children off to Fergus’, they’d be first cousins,” he teased, trying to lighten the unintentional gallows humor.
_“Butt love,”_ Zevran snickered. He and Alistair met eyes with a matching giggle, and Zev giggled harder when Tess struck his leg with her boot.
“Zevran, what have we told you about going through our personal effects?” Tess chided. Pádraig turned his head, unable to hide his smile, choking on a laugh when he caught Alistair’s grin.
“I’ll need something harder than tea to forget my little sister just said that,” Fergus muttered. Tess smirked into her teacup while the men around her laughed. “Dare I even ask about the scars?”
“That… depends on how much you want to know about your little sister,” Tess insinuated it was a sexual accident.
Fergus froze, and Alistair laughed when he saw the man struggle with looking at the people in front of him.
“Fergus, _you_ have a _filthy mind,_ ” Tess scolded. She couldn’t hide a smirk when she looked at Alistair, though.
“The Deep Roads are a very dark place,” Alistair answered Fergus. “Metaphorically and literally. Golems mostly.”
“And fire. And a very long night in the woods,” Tess finished for him. Alistair studied his wife; he wasn’t aware she remembered her withdrawal in Lothering.
“And carnivorous water,” Zevran added with a distant glare.
“And a dragon that wasn’t really a dragon,” Pádraig recalled the battle against Flemeth.
“And darkspawn,” Alistair remembered the vertical scar on his face from that battle at Ostagar so long ago. Flemeth had stitched that wound.
“But that’s not important, is it?” Tess eyed her brother. “Finding out why Teagan wasn’t surprised to see you is important. And why Zevran knew your name when you hadn’t said it. Am I right?”
“Don’t look at me,” Zev shook his head at Alistair. _“He_ snuck up on _me,_ that wasn’t my fault at all.”
Teagan’s sigh was of relief while Fergus sounded dreading.
“Maker, you have no idea how hard it was hiding that from you, Tesslyn,” Teagan said.
Fergus groaned though. “Must I do this now?”
Tess frowned so stern Alistair guessed Fergus saw their angry mother in Tess right now. _“Fergus Daimmric Galahad Byron Cousland.”_
Fergus rolled his eyes in a flat glare. His gaze shifted to Alistair without changing his face. “Has she done this to you yet?”
“Nope!” Alistair beamed. “But I’ve done it to her. _Only_ when she’s in trouble.”
“I would have been _fantastic_ not hearing that.” Fergus looked away with wide eyes. Alistair couldn’t help but laugh.
“Fergus, you’ve been alive all this time. We _needed_ your _help_ ,” Tess told him. Fergus groaned into his tea, which must have grown cold by now.
“I hear Bhelen’s voice in my head right now, _Brother and sister, I see it now,”_ Alistair teased. _“All right._ Fergus Cousland, your sister asked you a valid question,” he brought his _hard king_ back into play. “Fergus, Teagan, Zevran, I don’t care who answers, but one of you will answer my wife.” But Fergus and Teagan were not annoyed by the hard king demanding of them. Fergus’ hesitancy seemed just as legitimate as Tess’ desire for the truth, if Alistair was honest.
“We could not let Loghain know Fergus was alive,” Teagan began. Fergus sighed in relief from not having to start. “We had to let Loghain and Rendon think Fergus died at Ostagar. It was bad enough he had a bounty on _you_ two.”
“But Tess is right. We could have used you in the Deep Roads, Fergus.”
“I could not have gone, I was in Orlais when you departed from Rainesfere.” Fergus finished his tea and shook his head. “You may resent me all you want, but while you ventured around Orzammar, I spent my time running back and forth to Orlais. I already sent a messenger off, in fact. As soon as Celene gets the letter, her army and her Wardens will storm in. With any luck, they’ll help us push back whatever the darkspawn have in wait.”
“That doesn’t explain much.” Tess still glared. |
58b714a5b0ed40b0894bc325af7496af | ['7b2e377698b74e7ab67753215c646264'] | Orihime, on the other hand, stood silent, momentarily stunned by Ichigo’s gesture. Surely, he was just worried for her as usual, right? Just because his rough hands had been so gentle on her face -her _lips_ \- didn’t mean anything, right? The way his cheeks flushed a deep red that likely mirrored her own was just him being embarrassed because he’d done that to his friend, right? Orihime opened her mouth to speak, but the words refused to roll off her tongue.
She felt her blush deepen under his unrelenting gaze, but found herself unable to look away. And then she realised she’d nearly been silent for a full minute, and willed herself to respond something, _anything_.
“Y-You asked for my help, remember?” she spluttered. At least she was coherent.
“You know what I mean,” he pressed, his embarrassment ebbing, “I told you to go to somewhere safe, and yet you came back and put yourself in danger for my sake. _Why?_ ”
An almost frantic edge had crept into his tone, worry coloring his expression. Ichigo realised his hands had found her again, settling on either one of her shoulders as he implored her. A blush threatened to color his cheeks once more, but he persisted in spite of his embarrassment. Though he only meant to change the subject, to distract himself from his feelings, from the aftermath of the war and everything that followed, Ichigo found himself impatient to understand why Orihime didn’t listen to his plea for her to find safety. Why was it so important that she make it back the the battlefield?
It wasn’t as if he were ungrateful. On the contrary, Ichigo would’ve been dead without her help, that was for certain. The obvious answer was that he was her friend, of course she’d come back for him, but Ichigo couldn’t help but to think -to _hope_ \- there was something more to it than that.
They’d never been together on a battlefield before as a team, each playing a role in the fight. In the past, he’d always told her to stand back while he handled the fighting, and though they’d grown past that arrangement that hurt more than it helped, he was surprised she’d made a return. Ichigo supposed he thought they’d fall back into their pattern like old times.
It was foolish of him, really. This wasn’t the old times. And as hard as habits were to break, they both knew that. Ichigo was glad she didn’t listen to him, even if he told her to find safety out of fear for her wellbeing more than anything else.
“I made a promise.” Orihime said, then added, “Not to _you_ directly, though. It was more to myself than anything.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, his eyebrows raised. He couldn’t help but to be curious when she gave him such an answer. It was vague, and slightly roundabout. He could tell she wasn’t being forthright, and it only made him want to dig a little more. He gave her an encouraging squeeze of her shoulders before reluctantly dropping his hands back to their place at his sides. They’d lingered long enough.
Fortunately, Orihime didn’t seem to need much urging. In fact, it was almost as if she were relieved to speak. As if she were confessing some great secret she’d long kept hidden.
“For so long... I thought that if I trained hard enough, I could stop you from getting hurt entirely.” she said, a slightly sad smile ghosting her lips. “It was a vain hope of mine, and it didn’t take me so long to figure out that I’ll _never_ be strong enough to keep that from happening.”
Ichigo could feel his heart breaking for her.
After what happened in Hueco Mundo and he lost his abilities, Ichigo had spent his time reflecting on his powerlessness. It was painful, to desire so badly to protect the people he cared for the most, but being too weak to do anything. It was a particular feeling of uselessness that he and Orihime had in common, though he could admit to himself that she suffered in silence far longer than he had.
“You’re so much stronger than me, Kurosaki-kun.” she said, and Ichigo noticed the way her voice caught and her brow furrowed. It was like she was concentrating with all her might not to cry.
“ _Inoue-_ ” he started, meaning to comfort her. Orihime shook her head, and Ichigo cut himself off to let her finish.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to match your strength and keep you from putting yourself in harm’s way.” she looked at her feet, suddenly self conscious. Orihime immediately regretted her nervous habit of chewing on her lip, feeling the sting of her barely healed wound and the copper taste of blood on her tongue again.
_It hurts a lot,_ she thought. It hurt so much, she had tears in her eyes. Orihime blinked them away, her hands balling into tiny fists at her sides as she steeled herself to keep talking. It was hard, admitting her weakness, and the depth of her feelings. But she was used to persisting in the face of struggle. Even when she was exhausted and every bone in her body ached, she would raise her head and persist.
“As much as seeing your pain hurts me, I don’t want to come between you and that desire to protect the people around you. I could never try to take that away from you, especially when I see how deeply you hurt when you _don’t_ have that power.” she said. | 8ace7a4b641f464191a45fae15937a56 | ['7b2e377698b74e7ab67753215c646264'] | Back in the meeting room, Ichigo had risen to his feet and was now collecting the myriad of pillows he’d thrown across the room. Urahara had always been a loyal member of the Kurosaki Group, and despite his previous shady dealings with rival gangs, he was a dependable person when you needed him to be. Even so, it didn’t stop the old man from being a complete pain in the ass when others were at his mercy.
Ichigo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger; it was a habit of his whenever he felt a headache coming on. He’d spent his life growing up around irritating characters, but he’d be damned if he ever grew used to their difficult personalities.
He chanced a glance at the clock on the wall, mildly surprised to learn how late in the evening it was. It truly wasn’t an exaggeration when he complained about how long these meetings tended to drag on, but he dimly remembered that they would no longer be an intrusive annoyance in his life anymore. Despite the fact that his marriage to some unknown girl now loomed on the horizon, he took pleasure in the idea of not having to deal with Urahara on a tri-weekly basis any longer.
He was almost out the door, about to return to his own bedroom, before he remembered the stack of documents the courier had left for him on the table. Ichigo doubled back to grab them, but his attention was caught by the small card Urahara had left behind. He picked it up, his eyes scanning the neat script that read ‘Orihime Inoue, age 21’. Ichigo quirked an eyebrow before promptly flipping the card over to check for more information.
On the backside was printed the portrait of a young woman. She didn’t appear to be aware that her photo was being taken at the time, her attention trained on scrubbing the wood floors by hand. She donned the familiar maid uniform that was standard of the Kurosaki household, a light blue kimono. The first thing that caught Ichigo’s attention was the fiery auburn hue of her hair, pinned neatly to the top of her head in a bun. Shorter locks had fallen loose, framing her heart shaped face. Her eyes were large and chocolate brown, almost doe-like. And despite having never met the young woman, he could tell that the small frown she wore and furrowed brow looked almost as if they shouldn’t belong there.
“Orihime Inoue, hn?” He murmured as he appraised the woman in the photo. She was pretty, he could admit that much to himself; the type of pretty that got girls like her into trouble. He’d meant to avoid getting saddled with anyone who might potentially cause him a headache, and cursed himself for getting so worked up and allowing sympathy to make his decision for him. But in any case, she seemed like she was a hard worker. Probably the meek type that tended to stay out of people’s way. Those overly-shy girls were a pain in the ass for him to handle, but he supposed it was better than some high-strung know-it-all that’d give him hell every waking moment.
With a shrug, Ichigo pocketed the photo and made his way down the hall, quietly musing about his bride to be.
2. Interlude I - "Happiness"
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Interludes are going to be every few chapters (if not, then between every chapter), and are meant to be read so that you don't know who the speakers are (though tbh, it's kind of easy to figure out).
“Your eyes are so kind.”
“You’re talkin’ to the wrong type of guy, little missy.”
“Maybe so in the general scheme of things, but your eyes tell me that you’re a kind person.”
He snorted a laugh, his wise eyes crinkling in delight as he took a drag of his cigarette. He found himself having to look away from her, as if he shouldn’t dare to even glance at something so pure when he himself was dirty. Not that she wasn’t dirty to a certain degree herself, but there was a difference when it came to choosing and being forced into filth.
“It’s why I wasn’t afraid when you came for me.” She continued, a serene smile gracing her lips as she recalled the memory fondly. “I was sad at first… maybe even a little lonely… but I’ve been lonely since I was thirteen, so that wasn’t anything new. And I was afraid –at first– of your broad shoulders, and the way you towered so tall over me that you cast a shadow. Your voice was cold and authoritative, and it boomed with a kind of finality; like a gunshot. But I caught a glimpse of your eyes as my parents shoved me towards you, before I bowed my head in shame. And that’s when I knew that I was finally safe again.”
“Is that why you started crying?” The man mused quietly. “I’d assumed at the time you had just been afraid, but you’re tellin’ me now it was relief?”
A throaty laugh escaped his lips once more, and he leaned over to crush the stub of his cigarette in the car’s ashtray.
“No,” She corrected him gently, tucking a loose lock of hair neatly behind her ear. “It was happiness.” |
9d465039353c425794d970baa50815f0 | ['7b37e19a8d67404499f74bd837edd63a'] | Believe Again
Perhaps, the only thing that kept Taehyung from breaking up his relationship with Bogum is due to the comfort that it gave him that whatever he did, Bogum will always be there. He should be, he was for the last 8 years of their relationship.
Bogum has been with him since the beginning, when he was just a scrawny college kid trying to survive the everyday challenge of the hard university life.
It doesn’t matter that he once caught Bogum cheating on him with his ex-boyfriend when they were still on the second year of their relationship. Bogum had changed after that and Taehyung just can’t leave him under the abusive hands of Bogum’s manipulative ex. Taehyung had given him his trust again.
That’s why when Bogum told him that he receive a scholarship grant to further his studies abroad for 2 years, he didn’t hesitate to fully support him.
Now, unto Bogum’s 2nd year in Melbourne, Taehyung receives a text message from him while he’s on his shift at the hospital.
_I have a few hours of layover in Tokyo, you want to facetime?_
Taehyung was confused as to when Bogum was supposed to be in Tokyo
_You never told me you’d be in Tokyo?_
_Didn’t I? Perhaps, I forgot all about it. _
_Just came here for a 3-day vacation since the semester ended last week_
_Well, you never mentioned it. I could’ve gone there since it’s just an hour away from here_
_Must’ve slipped my mind. You know how I was busy with uni. I can’t possibly think of things like this Tae_
_Okay. Can’t facetime, I’m at work_
_Okay. Maybe later. I’ll be meeting a friend anyway. Take care_
Taehyung doesn’t know when it had become such a chore for the both of them to talk, that is if they even talk.
**Author's Note:**
> I will update this chapter by tomorrow, so it's not really done yet. I might also do this on twitter (@USER) if I get the hang of Social Dummy.
>
> Also, I will be adding tags as this goes on. | 0ee976d73dc7489a8a832b8992baa54b | ['7b37e19a8d67404499f74bd837edd63a'] |
1. The Calm Before The Storm
**Author's Note:**
> Hi! This work is undergoing major revision. I lost my file when my laptop was reformatted and the only one I have was before I edited the work into abo. I will post notes when it is done. Thanks for understanding💜
The once peaceful kingdom had been plagued with the great war – a war that they had won but with a hefty price. Not long after the bloodied war, famine had been a constant and it was not until the sudden rise of the Red Knights on the streets that theft, street brawls and most often than not, killings, that were common sightings have ceased. Red Knights are warriors that have fought during the war and have since protected the King and the kingdom from utter chaos.
The Kingdom had once again been controlled, not by peaceful ruling but by fear of the Blood King, a name that has been shrouded with the most horrid tales from all over the kingdom.
It is still unknown to the common folk as to how much of the tales are true about the feared Blood King. The locals don’t really dwell on these things as long as they have food on their plates and roofs on their heads and the Blood King had graciously delivered, but some of the villagers- the storytellers and the theatrics are more than happy to feed on these tales and create a vivid imagery of the Blood King through their books and plays, and it is most often than not, horrific, which really doesn’t make sense at all for Taehyung. It doesn’t make sense how people would be depicting the Blood King like that and be okay with it.
You see, although not vocally, Taehyung despises the Blood King, not because of the reputation that followed him but because his brother had died in the war started by the king 5 years ago. He still remembers his brother, Seokjin very much and there was not a day in those 3 years that they’ve lost him that he doesn’t think about him.
During the war, one Alpha or Beta in the family were called to serve the regime and Seokjin being the Alpha in the family had no choice. He needed to serve in replacement of his father. Taehyung, however had been spared, not because of his standing as an Omega but because his family had kept him away, living with his grandmother in the deepest part of the forest. He was only introduced when his grandmother had found a perfect antidote to keep his rank a secret from others.
Only his family knows of his true rank, since Male Omegas come in rarity and has been continuously hunted to breed them to possess power.
Taehyung lives as a merchant to fend for his family. They have a small farm that his father tends to and he sells their crops and some of the goods produced by both his mother and sister at the market.
Long had gone when all he cared for was his escapades to the forest – familiarizing himself with the different plants, flowers, herbs and animals that he meets along his way. He had wanted to become a healer like his grandmother and had learned everything from her before she died a few years ago but the responsibility that had once been his brother’s had since been shouldered by him when his brother was drafted to fight for their kingdom against the Kingdom of Freesia.
Apart for some misbehaviors from brave (mostly stupid) drunk men, the towns people are living peacefully amongst themselves for fear of the vigilant Red Knights constantly on patrol on the streets but tyranny will always find a way to disturb the serenity.
Taehyung had been arranging his display when Jimin, his Alpha friend appeared at his stall. He met the guy a few months back and he had since been visiting Taehyung often.
“What do you offer today, Tae?”
“Jimin!” Taehyung can’t help but exclaimed.
“Whoa! Someone’s a bit excited to see me.”
Jimin always had a cheerful personality. It suits him, Taehyung thinks. Even with wearing just a simple cotton black kimono with white linings and a black and white stripped hakama, Jimin almost looks like a prince pretending to be a commoner. His long dark brown hair loosely half-tied at his back, parted midway with tendrils hanging loose on either side that just adds to his alluring looks. His eyes crinkle on the sides with his plump lips when he smiles which makes him soft.
Taehyung isn’t one to focus on fashion and rather prioritizes his comfort any day. He prefers wearing his light pink everyday kimono over his white hakama which was previously his brother’s, with his hair mostly kept away from his face at an odd fashion with a hair band that his sister happily makes for him. Although, his mother would almost always tell him to dress well and not just settle for Seokjin’s old clothes, he just doesn’t really care. He thinks that his mother is bothering him too much with her talks of dressing well as he will not be able to find someone with the way he looks. He wants to put his family first and has no time to think of mating.
“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you for what, 10 days?” Taehyung muttered as he continues to fix his display.
“Oh! I had to do a job for a friend. How have you been? No one has been bothering you, right?” Jimin asks, a worry dripping in his voice.
“Well.. Apart from Minjae who is a constant, no one else has seemed to notice my existence in this plain and boring world.” Taehyung answers teasingly. |
dbeaa4df7e444a07a491398ca7849332 | ['7b476be899e04c7abef101fc07aeff77'] | “Do not call yourself such insults, Corvo, I value you more highly than a child's toy. You are your own man and can make your own choices, and your reaction to such a choice is amusing and insightful. However there’s no use lying: that accursed Delilah took away what I only give to those who are worthy, after bullying the Void into submission for that power no less. When she became part of me, that was only a small worry, but when she ripped away my gift - my Mark - from one of my favorite candidates, I had to ensure Emily could fight back and revive you. So she could get rid of Delilah and I could be rid of her filthy presence and restore your powers,” The Outsider sighs, deep lines in his young face appearing for a fleeting moment, "Fight she did and Delilah - while still living - cannot disgrace the Void any longer from where she resides. I cannot fault her for leaving Delilah alive, though at least she is tucked away from the Void and its magic. Which brings me to you."
What wouldn't Corvo do to not have to stare into those bottomless eyes? Those eyes bore into him, the Void prodded at his soul the longer he looked at the Outsider.
"I can see some part of you craving it, the pain of having the Mark taken has sunken new creases into your skin and soul. Even though I wish for you to have my Mark again, if you refuse it, I won’t force it upon you. Nor will I try to contact you again.” He puts a hand on his chest, “I swear that on the Void.” The breeze whispers urgently but quiets back down in an instant, carrying his promise somewhere far and safe. The Outsider vanishes and reappears again, this time standing to Corvo’s right. Waiting.
Corvo looks from the Outsider to the foggy sky, watching the shadows of flying - or were they swimming? - whales and rock fragments.
He does miss the powers, more than he wants to acknowledge. The rush of exploring the back alleys at night to track down the gangs or being able to take out daring assassins in less than a second by stopping time, he misses the excitement and power. He is still fast with his sword and good with a gun, but not having the Mark made him nervous beyond words. What of Emily's safety? Could he still protect her as well as before without the power of the Mark to help him?
And while he enjoys the powers and wishes for them back, his body is tired of the abuse. Daily his joints complain from past traumas and his muscles scream for days after rigorous activity. Without the powers every day he becomes more aware of how much he has aged. Could he not simply search the Isles for a new Royal Protector, and retire to be an adviser for his daughter? But the Mark and its powers…
“If I agree to take the Mark?” Corvo does not look at the Outsider, but can see the other perk up from the corner of his eye.
“I shall grant you the Mark and all it's magic you lost. No quest I need completed, at least not immediately. I will be watching you in earnest, you and Emily both.” The Outsider adjusted his perfect black coat, the roving light winking off the dark buttons, “I cannot see the future now, but I sense having the Empress and Royal Protector both Marked will provide for some interesting adventures and stories that will outlast even myself.”
“I do not care for the stories, for whatever legacy I may leave behind once my body decays. I care only for Emily and the good people of the kingdom. My only wish is to keep my daughter safe so she may be the best ruler she can be.” Corvo raises his left hand before he can doubt his decision, “Grant me your Mark.”
The Outsider smiles, a small but thankfully natural smile, and waves a hand.
“I look forward to seeing you again, Corvo Attano.”
Corvo’s hand burns in a familiar fire, one that is cold and hungry. The blue and gold fire flashes over his hand, sinking slowly into the scarred skin. Corvo fears the Mark will consume him whole, his mind and body too old to wield such power. But he bites the inside of his cheek and stomachs the pain, and the Mark appears across his skin with a final burst of flames. Corvo feels like part of him has been returned, all his stress falling away like blood off a blade. He would have to go around with a glove covering his hand as he had before Delilah came around, but at least his mind would be able to finally rest easy.
He looks around for the Outsider, but the other is gone, leaving him alone in the Void. The wind is silent and the whales sing contently, the light beyond the fog softening as if everything was going to sleep. When a swirling blue-hued portal lights up in front of him, he does not hesitate to step through it.
He returns to sleep in his room in Dunwall Tower, the Mark glowing playfully through the sheets.
**Author's Note:**
> First post to this site done! Hope you enjoyed, the idea has been rattling around in my head for a while and I've finally got it written down. I posted the same story on Wattpad (though I edited it slightly after posting it over there. I'm @calculatedmess over there btw), but I think I'll just stick to here from now on. Sorry again if anything looked weird, it's my first time using AO3 and I'm learning all on my own. | d80acfbe368242e496898078cf416059 | ['7b476be899e04c7abef101fc07aeff77'] |
Damaged and Dishonored
Corvo feels like he’s free-falling, spinning in the darkness without hope of stopping. He reaches out, pawing at the air, crying out. _Help! Emily! Jessamine!_
Light blinks into his world and he is blinded by it. He still falls, but now he can sense someone there, waiting for him. He is rushing closer to that person, faster and faster and-
Corvo slows but not fast enough. He hits the ground hard, his head bounces against the rock. His lungs expel all their air but thankfully he feels nothing break. He curls into the fetal position there, hands holding his head to soothe the pain. The presence is behind him, but he cannot care who that person is, only worrying about his own hurt body. He is an old man, and the fall was not kind on his aging body nor is the light kind to his fading eyes.
“Sorry for the rough landing, but you are not quite as fast on your feet as you once were.” That voice, drier than anything in the mortal world, could only belong to one being.
Corvo slowly turns over and opens an eye. The Outsider stands over him, pale face twisted into a smile that might as well be pasted onto his head for how real it looks. He extends a hand to Corvo, who takes it with only a minor pause. Corvo shivers at the Outsider’s cold touch, but he is grateful he isn't surrounded by a group of bandits - or worse, alone in the Void.
“Did Emily choose the Mark or did you bestow it upon her like you did to me all those years ago? She herself cannot recall the details well, not yet.” Corvo watches the Outsider’s black eyes for any emotion. He can’t see anything besides the endless Void staring back.
"I knew if I didn’t give you my Mark then, I would lose the chance to witness something extraordinarily interesting. Not only did you complete your revenge quest, but you did so in a peaceful manner I never thought could be achieved. You took a gift most would return by any means necessary and spun it into something good. I would be lying if I didn’t admit after a while I truly came to like you, and I am glad - as you surely are someplace in your soul - I gave you my Mark. With your daughter however,” The unnerving smile fades, but the wonder and joy does not fade from his voice, “There were so many possibilities, even if she did not possess my Mark. I offered her the magic, and she took it. Of course she required a minute's thought to consider the consequences, but saving you and her kingdom were worth the risk it seemed. I can see know why some already call her Emily the Wise."
"How come she wields different powers then? I have never seen someone summon a part of the Void like she can, or become a shadow beast. She has enhanced speed and endurance like me, and can spy through walls, but why nothing else?”
“I choose not the powers, just the person. The Void finds abilities well suited for those Marked, and gives them the powers. No two souls have ever had the exact same experience. Not now. Not ever.”
Corvo looks around them, seeing the plane of black rock they stand on, but nothing else. The source of light is shifting from his left to the right, as if the ever-present breeze is pushing it somewhere. “So why bring me back here? It's been many years since you last showed up to speak to me at one of your altars, many more since you summoned me here for what I thought was the first and only time. I thought with the Mark taken from me, I would be done, once and forever.”
The Outsider vanishes suddenly and reappears, now sitting on an outcrop of rock to Corvo's left that was not there before.
“I was tempted to not call you back, to let you live out the rest of your days Markless, reveling in the joy of defeating Delilah. Watching Emily grow up and become one of the greatest rulers Gristol will ever see.” For the first time, the Outsider looks upset, “Though I find I cannot enjoy myself, even when you're daughter is proving to be as interesting as you are.”
"Are? Don't you mean _were_?"
The Outsider looks down at Corvo. His black eyes shine queerly, “You, Corvo, the twice disgraced royal protector, have been a source of joy ever since the time of the Rat Plague. Only one other than you and your daughter are out there now, but you are the brightest among you three. I only come across people like you occasionally, and cannot feel another so fascinating coming along for years now. So I offer what was stolen from you - the Mark of the Outsider.”
Corvo folded his arms and glared at the entity, “When you can simply bestow your Mark upon me without consent or feeling guilt, why not do it again if I am truly meant to have it? What is stopping you from restoring your plaything to it's former glory?” |
d6a7991344dc4d31bd5e68be1a614b47 | ['7b48aa0982554c8ab4e15c365394214d'] | “Okay? Is that the best adjective you can come up with?”
“You were incredible,” Eponine said. Jehan also greeted her and kissed her cheek with a loud smack as well, heightened to probably show intense affection. Enjolras, who was clueless about how the people in the table all knew each other, was looking at them expectantly.
Jehan finally turned to look at him, and seemed like she was taken aback. “Oh, WOW. And you must be R and Ep’s friend?”
R chuckled while Eponine tried her best to stifle her laughter with the back of her right hand. “Jehan, this is Enjolras. Enjolras, Jehan,” Grantaire said.
“Nice to meet you,” Enjolras greeted her as he shook her hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, too. Wow, you’re like. Um. I know this is probably impolite, but—oh wow. Do you even know how you look like?”
Enjolras let out a nervous laugh as R rolled his eyes, while Eponine finally lost her last shred of self-control and started laughing out loud without restraint this time.
“What?” Jehan asked her with an accusatory tone of voice, but was laughing lightly as well. “He looks like fucking _David_ by motherfucking Michelangelo, excuse the language.”
“It’s okay,” Enjolras replied.
“So, tell me about yourself,” Jehan said, but not without a tinge of shyness. “Not that I haven’t been hearing tons of stories from these two already.”
Enjolras gaped in slight horror. “What stories?”
“Well, most of the things I know, I’ve heard from R, and it’s not really that reliable because most of it consists of someone looking at him angrily across an art gallery...”
By the conclusion of the night, Jehan had already ended up being one of Enjolras’ favourite people. He had never met anyone before who was shy and disarming, eloquent, knowledgeable (without being snobbish), and _tender._ At times during his conversation with her he was reminded of Feuilly and his sweetness, and Combeferre and his love for poetry, which was not at all as extensive as Jehan’s. Meeting the poet also, in a way, widened Enjolras’ perception of Grantaire as a person. He saw how they interacted throughout the occasion; even apart from each other, Enjolras felt like he was dwarfed by their connectedness and the awareness that they were comfortable enough with each other from years of knowing one another. They gave off the air that they knew each other more than they knew themselves.
“Are you and R...?” Enjolras asked Jehan at one point, quietly while the artist and Eponine were talking passionately about the significance of Tim Drake both as an individual character in the DC Universe and as Robin.
Jehan looked at him with a confused expression and wide eyes. “Me and R...?”
“Are you togeth-“
“NO! Goodness gracious,” she laughed with relief; “me and R are best friends.”
“Oh,” Enjolras replied, more confused at the sudden sense of consolation that he felt. Why did he feel relief himself at that piece of information? He asked himself this question and failed to receive an answer.
Apparently, Jehan had first met R at a bookstore when they both fought over the last copy of _Ariel_ by Sylvia Plath, a required reading from one of their classes, which they weren’t aware they had in fact shared at University. R was obviously older than Enjolras and Eponine – Jehan as well, and the poet confirmed this also. R shared that he was about 3 years older than all of them.
“Are you still in University, Grantaire?” Enjolras asked him.
“No,” R replied as he exhaled cigarette smoke, “I actually just tried it for one year, you know, ‘cause I wanted to find out why everyone was doing it.”
Enjolras frowned at this peculiar answer. “What did you take up?”
“Fine Arts.”
“You didn’t finish your degree?”
R paused, like he was deep in thought. “Wasn’t worth it,” he finally replied.
That was the breadth of their interactions that night; when Grantaire approached Enjolras the other day at the gallery the latter had formed the impression that the former would exert efforts of starting conversations, since the artist was still fairly mysterious to Enjolras. In fact, they were probably mysterious to each other. They did not know much about one another, except for what their mutual friends have graciously shared. And although Enjolras had now known a few new things about him, he still didn’t know much. He had thought of asking Jehan about R, but decided it better not to.
When the MC had said _thank you_ s and farewells to the crowd, and the people all went their separate ways, either to their beds or after parties, Jehan leaned in close to Enjolras as they stood up from their seats and muttered about when they could do this again.
“R really seems to like you,” he whispered.
Enjolras stared at her. “What gave you that impression?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Let’s do this again,” she replied instead.
“Yes, let’s,” R agreed.”Okay so I’m heading over to Ep’s apartment, what about you guys?”
Jehan grinned at him and told him that he would be heading home due to his various commitments in the early morning, and that he had better get his sleep.
Enjolras, for the first time in his adult life, had no idea about what he wanted to do. He contemplated about phoning Combeferre or Courfeyrac, or both of them. He felt like he had an immense urge to talk to someone and ask them for advice. Advice for what, he did not even know.
“I’d better head off home too,” he settled on saying. | 639b7b1b069c4ba8b7204fa88d91683d | ['7b48aa0982554c8ab4e15c365394214d'] | “Yes,” Toshinori hears himself say without a hint of hesitation. Aizawa nods and looks away. The blonde follows him all the way home, from the train to the deft turns of his neighborhood’s corners. A quiet place, a normal apartment. White walls but darkened by the weather outside. It was a little bit bare, surprisingly so for Toshinori. For some reason he imagined Ereaserhead living in a cramped apartment, filled with cats to the brim. In the end, there was only ever one cat inside, a small black thing yawning and stretching on a wooly carpet.
“Come inside,” Aizawa beckoned. “That’s Akira,” he gestures to the cat. He left his capture weapon that he had been using as a scarf on top of the small coffee table, and waited for Toshinori to come take his shoes off and sit on the dark blue couch. “You want some tea?” he asked as he took off his coat. The older hero sits tensely at the far end of the couch.
“Yes, please.”
He went into the kitchen and tinkered with the kettle, two mugs, the tea dispenser. Toshinori could see his back on him, having taken off his coat, could see stray hairs from his bun matted on the back of his neck. It felt strangely intimate, being able to see places nobody usually could.
“You wanna watch a film?” Aizawa asked again.
“It’s fine. What did you really have in mind?”
Aizawa was silent, and continued to be so even after placing two cups of tea on top of the coffee table, the bottom of the one mug lying on his capture weapon. He sits at the opposite end of the couch, putting considerable distance between him and the older man.
“To be honest, I don’t know.” Toshinori raised his eyebrows. “I just wanted you around,” Aizawa said matter-of-factly. Like it meant nothing at all.
“You sure? You don’t wanna do anything?”
Eraserhead looked at him dubiously, despising his teasing, dismissing it with a flick of his hand that probably meant something like ‘get outta here’. “We’re not that close,” he says, then adds “we’re not ready for that either.”
“So. You wanna work on that?”
Aizawa turns to look at him, his gaze lazy, his body lethargic, settled on the comfortable blue couch. Almost as if he was mulling the offer over in his head, almost as if it wasn’t him that insinuated it in the first place. His wrist moving in practiced circles as he swishes his tea around in its cup. Why was he doing that, anyway.
“How about you talk to me?” He finally settled on asking. “You said you’d tell me about your mentors over drinks. Tell me now.”
Toshinori scoffed. “This is hardly the perfect time to be doing that.”
Aizawa glanced at the window on the wall opposite them, the sky still setting a dark gloom over the room despite the yellow light coming from the ceiling light bulb, despite the thin curtain covering it. “It’s now or never,” he murmured as he took a sip from his cup.
“Well… Where do I even start?”
“Whatever it is you’re prepared to share. I don’t want to force you to tell me anything you’re not ready to talk about yet.”
Toshinori smiled, and laughed faintly. “Ah,” he said as he looked at the mug in his large, calloused hands. How many more times? “I haven’t told anyone this before.”
“Can I ask why you agree to tell me?”
Yagi turned to look at him and smiled softly. “Because I like you.”
Eraserhead didn’t reply, didn’t even budge at that. “What were you going to say?”
So he tells the underground hero about first meeting Nana, about the hair, but not about inheriting One for All, though, it’s not as if he needed to know that to understand just how important this first Master, this first Sensei was to him. He told him about training, about her losing her family, her husband to death and her child to the system. About the harshness of hero-work and how it seemed as if it only ever brought sacrifice and pain. Most especially pain. “I was around to see how badly she took her husband’s death,” Toshinori laments, “I wasn’t around when she died. And I still feel… Responsible.” He tells Aizawa about strong people and smiling, about coping and surviving. About hurting from absence, about being proud, about facing the pure fact that there are things in this life that were never yours and will never be, about possession, dispossession, about absence and presence. About dealing with death.
Aizawa is silent as he listens. Toshinori tells him about Torino. I love him, too, Toshinori explains. We both lost her.
“You’ve been in pain all this time,” Eraserhead says flatly.
“Have I?” Toshinori looks at his hand, his scarred fingers, his cut-nails. He thinks about hospital bills and hospital ceilings. He thinks about Nana’s hair. Long. Dark. The smile on her face. Her strong arms. Her choosing him out of everyone else.
Aizawa pokes him on the side of the leg with his socked foot. “Hey.” Toshinori looks at him again. “I’m sorry. I wish I knew sooner.” But he didn’t look sorry, at least not in the way the older hero thinks someone should look like. But his face is more somber, more heavy than empty. To the unobservant observer they will fail to catch the difference.
“It’s fine,” Toshinori assures both him and Shouta. “It was a long time ago. I should have already gotten over it.” Immediately after saying this, Eraserhead reaches from across the couch, almost crawling to where Toshinori was and grabs the older hero by the shoulders, his grasp firm but soft. Toshinori tried to stifle a gasp that came out unexpectedly from his lips as the younger hero leaned closer.
“Toshinori,” Shouta says his real name for the first time.
“Shouta…” |
6b07c12715a44eea857147c5c22f99cc | ['7b7983bcaede4c00b63b2795cdf06524'] | “The sacrifice is here!” A voice shouted. Great, another demon summoning dream. Lance felt two people behind him grab his arms and pull him out. He struggled against them to no avail and soon he found himself tied to a slab of rock with a group of six people surrounding him.
“Oh hell no! I’m not going out like this!” He screamed and thrashed against the rock. His eyes widened when someone stood above him with a spear in their hands and then lowered it quickly. He felt it poke his abdomen just as a man in orange kicked his assailant away.
“Matt! Oh, thank god!” Lance let out a breath of relief and wiggled his wrists. While Matt fought off the demon summoners with a bo staff, Lance could concentrate on freeing himself, willing the ropes to loosen as he rubbed his ankles and wrists against them. When he was free, Matt grabbed him by the arm an ran into the woods. Lance followed Matt as quickly as his long legs could carry him.
“Matt, where are we going? How did you get here?”
“Don’t know, I came out of the woods and the portal closed. The time they stay open keeps getting shorter. Probably because we’re tired. At least we won’t fall off a cli－” Lance watched Matt fall off a side of a cliff that materialized as he spoke. His hand was wrapped hard around Lance’s wrist and he pulled their connection. Lance tried to halt and pull Matt back only to lose his balance and fall off the cliff as well.
“Fuck you, Matt Holt!” Lance’s voice rang through the darkness followed by Matt’s howl of laughter.
* * *
“When you die in a dream, you only die in a dream.” Matt murmured to himself in between gulps of air after his body jolted awake. The light in his room came on and he squinted in response. He assumed he must have screamed in his sleep again and woke his little sister up.
“Matt, something happened to Shiro. His family is asking for us to help him.” His sister’s voice was cold and hesitant. Hearing about Shiro’s family, Matt thought perhaps they wanted to run another sleep study on him despite the fact that it didn’t help. Then it registered in his mind that something happened to Shiro.
“What happened?” He sat up and looked at his sister for the first time. Her brown hair barely covered her red, puffy eyes. “Pidge? Katie? What happened?”
“Someone ran into him with their car. And when he tried to get up they hit him again.” She stopped took a sharp inhale, tears flowing from her eyes. “Dad says he might lose his arm.”
**Author's Note:**
> So it says graphic violence because honestly, I don't know what every individual's threshold is. Also, the characters will die several times in several ways, but they will not die in their real lives except possibly the villain at the end. | 22f15c64e37e4af5ace1957f0d1987e0 | ['7b7983bcaede4c00b63b2795cdf06524'] | “No, I was born with something called a Love Bind. It means I am destined to be in love with whoever is assigned to me. It’s rare, but it makes my job harder. I have no choice in the matter and I used to think maybe it as just because you’re cute or there’s no explanation at all to the emotion. I know why I love you, but I already lost the chance for it to be organic. You’re the only one with a choice in this, but you understand why I can’t be with you, right?”
Matt was shocked to his core. He barely registered the waitress clearing the table or Lance reaching over to take care of the bill. Here was someone who loved him unconditionally and forever, something he always wanted. On the other hand, didn’t want to take advantage of Lance who had been so completely honest with him.
“Yeah, I understand. I mean, I just met you so I can’t really return those feelings. Let’s talk about our game plan. I think progress reports are a good idea,” Matt said, a soft smile gracing his lips. He pretended not to notice when Lance held his hand and squeezed it in relief.
“You should date casually. None of this exclusive stuff until you’re sure. I’ll check in on you after every date.”
“Fine by me, love angel, but send the most compatible ones my way.”
* * *
Two months into their game plan, Matt was ready to call it quits. The only reason he didn’t was that it kept Lance coming back and it kept the disappointment bearable. Apparently, the people who were most compatible with him were the ones who refused to commit in the long run without some grand gesture that would convince them otherwise.
That wasn’t his style, but he wouldn’t argue that it was something he liked, much like how Lance had confessed to him. Over those two months, Lance would visit him after every date when it was disappointing or good. They talked for hours, played video games, and sometimes fell asleep together on the couch.
There were days when there were no dates and Lance didn’t come by. He would be nose deep in work until he fell asleep on a pile of papers or his laptop and wake up to a blanket over his shoulders and a fresh pot of coffee made. He never brought it up, but he had started baking brownies covered in powdered sugar, Lance’s favorite treat, and leaving them out to “cool”. When he returned to check on them, half would be gone.
A snowstorm kept Matt away from his family on Christmas day, but Lance had come to keep him company. They ate dinner together and curled up under the blanket Lance gave him as a gift to watch Love Actually. Matt had given him sweatpants with the words “Love Angel” in glitter on the back.
“Lance, if you could stop loving me, would you like to?” Matt asked suddenly. He felt Lance shift uncomfortably in the blanket until his legs were crossed and he was sitting straight.
“No, I don’t think I would. You’re smart, gentle, kind, and resilient. I could have been bound to love a serial killer, but instead, I have you. Why would I change that?”
“To give yourself a choice. I mean, isn’t that what you wanted all this time?”
“I think in a way, I already made my choice. These past two months grounded that reality for me. Unless you’re planning to stop baking me those brownies. You’re lucky I leave you any,” Lance said and bumped into him playfully. Matt could see the sadness in his eyes mixed with fear of rejection.
“If I said I feel the same way would you think I was lying?” Matt reached for Lance’s hand under the blanket, giving it two squeezes. One for comfort and another for ‘please stay’.
“I want to take it slow. If we do this, I’ll become human. You have to be careful not to stab me with a butter knife,” Lance sighed and pressed his forehead to Matt’s forehead.
“I’ll do my best, love angel,” Matt said, leaning in and capturing Lance’s lips. Their love was born of seafoam, solidified over winter, and Matt was happy to spend the rest of his life proving his love to Lance.
5. Hello, my name is...
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> There were so many things the little robot wanted to tell his creator.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Prompt: He was, for the most part, solar powered.
>
> http://deepwaterwritingprompts.tumblr.com/post/156411400114/odd-prompts-for-odd-stories-text-he-was-for-the
When he opened his eyes, the first sight he saw was a giant of a man with round glasses over his hazel eyes. His long, brown hair was tied back in a messy ponytail and he wore a white button-up shirt and brown pants. The man lifted him up and placed him on his feet.
“Hello, my name is Matthew Holt and you’re a little robot. I just created you,” said Matthew. The robot looked down at his arms, then his torso, and finally his legs. He ran around in a circle, tripped, and slowly propped himself on to his knees.
“Look, I’ll let you choose your name,” Matthew said and placed a book down in front of the small robot. “This is a book of baby names. I got it from a neighbor who just gave birth to her own child. I haven’t gotten your voice box working yet, but maybe by the time I do, you’ll have a name.”
The robot looked around. A name wasn’t his first priority, but he wanted to find out why everything was so big. He found a twelve-inch ruler, it was a short jogging distance from him, and dragged it as close as he could to his creator. Then he laid down next to it, making sure he was as straight as can be. |
581c2406c0b3488e9b0c91858a71b93c | ['7bb2acbbf79b4f15a9d0bcf96301af3a'] | Castiel can't say no to that. "How do you want me to do this? I want you to be comfortable."
"Tell me what to do, so I know – so I know I'm not hurting you." Dean smiles faintly. "That's all I need."
Castiel suddenly wants to ask what happened in hell, just so he knows what Dean's triggers are, but now isn't the time, and if it were, Dean probably wouldn't answer. Details about hell have always been sparse, and Castiel never wanted to put Dean in pain, so he didn't push. "You have to tell me if you need to stop. Agreed?"
"Yeah, yeah." Dean waits, looking eager now.
"Take off your clothes?"
Dean smiles, as if Castiel said something cute. But he doesn't say anything, just obeys, slipping off his boxers. He's already half erect. Definitely interested.
Right. Castiel has to do that, too. He shoves the blankets off of him and lifts his hips, pulling off his boxers – well, Dean's – in one smooth move. "Come here?"
"You don't have to ask," Dean says, crawling over on his hands and knees.
Castiel smiles at him. Yes, he does, but he'll humor Dean. It occurs to Castiel that they're both coming into this damaged. "Do you want to kiss me?" No reason to skip foreplay.
"Always," Dean replies instantly. He doesn't wait for anything else, just presses his lips against Castiel's.
They make out, wet and deep, for several minutes. Castiel's hands are in Dean's short hair, and Dean is stroking along Castiel's jaw, but otherwise they aren't touching. Dean is waiting for permission to go further. "Do you want to suck me?"
"Oh, yeah," Dean says. "Can I?"
Castiel nods, giving permission. He spreads his legs, giving Dean room to maneuver. Dean settles between his thighs slowly, giving Castiel plenty of time to react. Then he sucks the head of Castiel's cock into his mouth, applying gentle pressure and suction. One hand goes around the base of Castiel's cock, stroking in time to Dean's mouth. It's markedly different from the first blowjob that Castiel got from Dean – for one thing, he's already aroused. For another, Dean is going at a glacial pace, demanding nothing, not even a reaction.
Castiel settles his hands in Dean's hair again, fingers running through the soft strands. Despite Dean's gentleness, Castiel rapidly hardens. They never finished what they started last night, and even if his mind knows why, his body doesn't.
Dean pulls off, mouth wet. Castiel's cock twitches at the sight. "I've got lube in my duffel."
"Optimistic?" Castiel asks dryly.
But to his surprise, Dean looks wary. "You do want sex, don't you?"
"Of course, I wouldn't have – Dean, I came onto you. I started this whole thing. Yes, I want sex. I was only teasing you."
"Don't tease me," Dean says, looking very relieved. "At least not about that."
"Fair enough," Castiel says, stroking Dean's cheek. "Go get it?"
"Again with the questions," Dean says, grinning, then hops off the bed. He has to go to the guest bedroom to get it, and returns with his cock hard and bobbing in the air.
Castiel gets up off the bed, walking to Dean and taking the tube instead of waiting for Dean to come to him. He kisses Dean once. "Are you sure about this?"
"Stop making me nervous," Dean says, smiling nervously.
"I want this to be good for you," Castiel says, hand on Dean's cheek.
Dean turns to kiss his palm. "It will be." He clambers onto the bed, on his back, and then spreads his legs. It's a position Castiel's seen, of course, except usually it was Castiel giving Dean a blowjob, or in some cases they just rubbed up against each other until they came, if they were both tired. Dean pulls up his knees, though, and that's different. Unusual.
Castiel settles on the bed, fingers stroking along Dean's inner thighs. Dean shivers, and Castiel smiles at him. "You're beautiful," Castiel says, truth and reassurance.
Dean goes red. "Yeah, sure, right."
"You are," Castiel insists. "You know the first time I saw your mugshot, I had to take a second look? Definitely the most attractive serial killer I'd ever seen."
Dean laughs. "I'm not sure how to feel about that."
Castiel kisses Dean's knee, pulling it up a little farther. "Complimented."
Dean grins, all boyish charm. "Okay."
Castiel gets a finger slick, and then circles Dean's hole with it. Dean inhales sharply, but he doesn't move away or try to close his legs. "Good?"
"Yeah, don't stop," Dean says, beginning to breathe hard.
Castiel has fingered Dean before, either with his mouth on Dean's cock, or making him come from his fingers alone. He knows where Dean's prostate is, and just how good it makes Dean feel. Despite the nearly three years between the last time he did this, it feels natural to fall back into knowing how to push Dean's body to where he wants it to go. One, then two fingers, and then Castiel hits Dean's prostate.
Dean jerks and moans. "Fuck."
"Keep going?"
"Fuck, Cas, yes, just fuck me," Dean says, pushing down on Castiel's fingers. He doesn't look tense or worried, exactly. Slightly nervous, mostly hidden under the flush of arousal.
Castiel pauses, staring at him.
Dean swallows hard. "I love you," he whispers.
Castiel strokes himself, getting himself slick with one hand while the other shifts a third finger into Dean's body. "I love you, too."
A kind of gentle joy spreads across Dean's face. Castiel takes the opportunity – Dean is very relaxed, now – and moves forward, hands moving Dean's legs into place. He presses the tip of his cock against Dean's hole, and then stops there.
Dean wraps his legs around Castiel's waist and says, "Come on, come on, fuck I want to pull you in –"
Castiel pushes. | af7b5b369fd1470284116a0c617ffcd3 | ['7bb2acbbf79b4f15a9d0bcf96301af3a'] | JJ looks away, at his nearly empty apartment. There's only a few dozen boxes left. All the furniture is gone. He actually bothered to keep it this time, if only because he didn't want to go the hassle of buying new furniture. He doesn't want that first year of feeling like he's living a skeleton of a life. The cost of moving is higher than usual, but it's also less stressful, so Castiel can't bring himself to care.
"You know, I liked you immediately," JJ says.
Castiel raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I didn't start out as a profiler in the BAU, but you never cared about that. You respected me from the first moment we met." JJ smiles, fondly this time.
"You knew a hell of a lot more than I did," Castiel says wryly. "I don't like to make enemies of coworkers, either."
"Or you're just a good guy," she offers.
Castiel looks down. "Yes, perhaps."
"You were well before Agent Greenaway, but you looked at her file, didn't you?"
The agent who supposedly murdered someone in a fashion that left no evidence and left, very abruptly. Castiel knew about her case, looked at what was publicly available after he was formally invited to the BAU. It pays to know the history of any unit. Why JJ would bring her up, though, he doesn't know. It's probably not good. "Yes."
JJ joins her hands in her lap, thoughtful. "In a way … in hindsight, it was easy to see her unraveling. The trauma of what happened to her changed her way of thinking, of coping with the job. And she never recovered from that." She pauses. "Sometimes, I see her in you."
"I'm not snapping, JJ."
"No," she agrees, wry and worried, "but you are different. The Castiel that I knew would never have tried to throw Hotch under the bus."
"He's lost perspective. And maybe I never had it, JJ, but he doesn't have it now." Castiel says it firmly, because he has no choice but to double down on everything he said in that interview. He knew that the moment he began planning it with Dean, that he was burning bridges between him and his friends, his colleagues. Sacrificing one part of his life to save the rest.
"You think that's why he's suspicious about you? I didn't see everything he submitted, but you've been disappearing and acting –"
"JJ, why did you come here?"
JJ takes a deep breath. "I'm your friend, and that won't change. But I'm worried, and I wanted you to know that. So if in any part of your own mind you're worried about yourself, you know you're not alone. And that we're still here for you."
Castiel's eyes sting. "I know. Reid said the same thing."
"I don't know what happened between you and Winchester, and I suspect I never can, not really. For all that we profile and understand the psychologies of victim and perpetrator, it's always just enough. Never complete."
"You don't know how true that is," Castiel says softly. "I didn't, not until – not until."
"We may not be able to understand, Castiel, but all of us are still here for whenever you want to talk."
Castiel looks away. It's a kind offer, very kind. Castiel knows he can never take her up on it, and there's some regret in that. He's told too many lies, made too many decisions that can't be reversed. "Thank you."
JJ stands. "Don't be shy, okay?"
"I won't be. Tell William I said hello."
JJ smiles, bright and genuine. Castiel's managed, somehow, to ease some fears. Maybe because he didn't protest too hard that there was nothing going on. If she suspects the same way Hotch does, that kind of response will give her hope that Castiel will come to his senses. Which of course, he won't. He can't. There are too many truths between Castiel and freedom.
JJ stands up and hugs him. Castiel returns the embrace tightly. "I'll miss you all," he says quietly.
She withdraws a little to look him in the eye. "Then don't go too far."
\---------------------------
"Castiel! Castiel? Am I saying it right?" Mrs. Stein asks. Her carrot red hair is barely restrained in a bun, but her smile is even brighter.
"Yes, and that’s no small feat," Castiel says, stepping into her home's foyer. She offers him her hand to shake, and he kisses the back of it instead.
She laughs. "My husband said you were a charmer."
"Your husband told me you liked being charmed." And that's true. Agent Stein, or Roger as he's more commonly known on the team, talks a lot about his wife and four children. Roger, for all the hours he spends at work, manages to attend soccer games, piano recitals, and all the sundry activities his children do. Agents like Castiel, who are single, tend to be more flexible, so Castiel's taken an hour here and there to cover for Roger a lot over the past five months. It took six invitations to dinner for Castiel to say yes, though.
He's been wary of making new friendships. JJ and Reid have kept in touch with him, as well as Morgan; he hasn't heard from the others.
Dean and Balthazar have been Castiel's only constants.
Consequently, he's a bit nervous to be here, trying to form another human connection. What if things go badly on this team, too? If a hunt appears, and Castiel has to take action?
Mrs. Stein looks completely relaxed, unlike Castiel. Her calm, easy attitude is somewhat catching. As she leads him to the dining room, he glances around her home. |
a8d41807c6aa4497b75721cc34e09337 | ['7bb96ca56dd340babc017ee163536c70'] | Even as a teen, he had known the redhead’s coping mechanisms were unhealthy; how could he have not? But it seemed he had believed just as much as they had, that they were past that. That they were stronger than the person they had been. That they were stable enough to handle something like this. …Which wasn’t really _fair_, he could at least admit, thinking about it objectively as he could. Under normal circumstances, Aki was sure and steady; but these were so far removed from normal circumstances, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Neither he nor Arima had shared anything but the vaguest notion of having plans with Aki, nor had Take been able to warn them, so it wasn't exactly a shock Aki assumed he didn’t care. He knew about their trauma. He knew how their parents had treated them as a child, like an object to be broken or tossed aside at a whim. He knew how they reacted when triggered, and that the worse the trigger was, the more support they needed to stabilize. But he’d done it anyway.
Leaving he could justify as the Greater Good; ignoring Aki after Dragon he couldn’t.
* * *
Almost the moment Aki opened the door, he realized this may've been a mistake.
Though omegas had the best noses of the three secondary genders, it would’ve taken someone with no sense of smell _at all_ to miss the fact that the redhead was drunk. Then Take watched Aki inhale, and belatedly realized his second, perhaps more damning mistake – he smelled like an omega in heat. The reaction was nigh-on instantaneous. Blue irises warm as a summer sky were all but swallowed by the black of their pupils, as they blew wide at the smell of plums and plum blossoms. It wasn’t his scent, not even close to sandalwood and citrus, but it didn’t matter it was Ui’s instead. (So much for doing something good by looking after the younger man.) Within the span of a few heartbeats, he had been hauled bodily inside and shoved against the wall, the door slamming shut behind him. Despite being the one more used to consistent combat, Take wasn’t fool enough to try to break the redhead’s hold. Not with their teeth at his throat, poised to bite.
Not that it would’ve been the first time they had bitten him – Aki had claimed him. once they were married, though shirt collars and turtlenecks hid the mark – but with the situation precarious as it was, he wasn’t going to _provoke_ them into it. Pressed against the wall, their front to his back, he could feel them breathing. Could feel the soft pressure that meant they weren’t wearing their binder, feel the way their hands shook at his hips. He could also smell blood beneath the scent of whiskey, an unneeded confirmation that they had well and truly unraveled in the last five months, long sleeves hiding scars and cuts. There were so many things they needed to fix between them, so many things that needed to be talked about and dealt with, but first and foremost the state he had unthinkingly driven Aki to needed to be addressed. After all, no matter their restraint when in their right mind, most alphas couldn't control themselves when thrown into an unexpected rut.
Though Take refused to feel bad about it, as it had been completely accidental, it was still something he should help them deal with. Of course, that assumed Aki would let him have a say in how this went – a fact he knew would haunt them, when they were lucid again. It was why they diligently took rut suppressants, along with their psychiatric medications. It was one of the aspects of their nature they still wrestled with, one they had yet to come to terms with, and one they almost actively hated. In short, it was going to be a long week, no matter how this played out. A sharp nip at his throat brought the present screeching back into focus, Take doing his best to remain pliant, so his spouse’s instincts wouldn’t see him as a threat or a challenge. Aki when given over to the part of themself that was all alpha wasn’t an Aki he knew, so caution was his surest ally at the moment. Caution, and submission.
"You smell like an omega in heat," the redhead growled, voice a touch deeper than their usual neutral pitch. They nuzzled up from his vulnerable jugular to his ear before they continued speaking, actions deceptively soft, voice strained with the immense amount of willpower it was taking for them not to just rip off his clothes and get on with it. "I don’t know what the _fuck_ you think you’re doing, sweetheart," the emphasis they put on the curse, plus the endearment made something in him want to respond – preposterous as that was, as he wasn’t an omega – another sharp nip reminded him where his focus should be, "but you’d better tell me… or I can’t make you _enjoy_ it." Their statement was punctuated with a roll of their hips, the feel of just how obviously they _wanted_ him adding extra emphasis to their words. Added to the restraint they were showing, Take was nonplussed for a moment.
When he realized what was going on a heartbeat later, he felt rather foolish for not having understood it right away. Even now, with their instincts at the fore, their personality shone through. Aki was forcing themself to _wait_, even though he could imagine it was painful, all because they loved him so much. They wanted his consent; they wanted him to enjoy what was inevitable. And, though it would probably make their sanity fray even more, he knew with sudden surety they would've stopped. If he had _asked_ them to, if he had _wanted_ them to, they would have. No matter what it might cost them, or how much it hurt, he was always their top priority. _His_ feelings, and what _he_ wanted, never thinking of themself unless forced to. Even drunk to begin with, thanks to pain he had caused for the sake of the Greater Good, and now barely holding back a rut – they were _still_ only thinking of _him_. At that moment, he decided he could sort out his feelings later.
He didn’t enjoy forcing Aki to think of themself, but it was the least he could do for them.
Carefully reaching up, the brunette gently cupped a hand against the back of their neck, massaging a bit of the tension he could feel in their spine. As he did so, a small smile forming on his lips, he pressed back against them in answer. Still, as much of a tacit consent as this was, he knew they needed to hear him say it; and in a way, he needed to hear himself say it, too. "It’s okay, love," Take murmured, just loud enough to be heard in the stillness between them. "I just want you." _Fuck me_ remained unsaid, but the purr he felt and heard reverberating through Aki’s chest was a clear reassurance they understood. The position wasn't ideal, but at least clothing was dealt with easily enough. Then came the sticking point; preparation. Had he been an omega, or had this been planned, it wouldn’t have been an issue. In the former case his, body would’ve produced ample slick on its own, while in the latter lubrication would’ve been near at hand.
Instead, after shifting a bit so that he was braced against the wall with his hips at an angle, spit would have to do. Attentive as always, while they did their best to open him up as quickly and gently as they could with one hand, Aki’s other was occupied with stroking the brunet’s own arousal. It had taken a bit, but eventually the purring, warmth, and plethora of bites and marks that were littered over the back of his neck and across his shoulders had eased him into an answering desire. But even with that, even with Aki doing their best to mitigate the pain he would feel as much as possible, the burn that came with the alpha entering him made him whine sharply in discomfort. When they tried to stop, he all but begged them to keep going; though painful now, it would fade as he got used to the sensation. Not that he was _unused_ to it, much as he did his best to not think about it. It was something else to address, but he couldn't focus on that now.
If he thought about it, he’d end up blocking out the first time he and Aki were being intimate "for real." This by all rights should have happened so very differently. Without all the wreckage between them, without all the pain, but done was done. The beta knew he was being selfish, but if it took being selfish to give his mate at least this much, then he would commit any sin gladly. Even though it was something of a fake, built on a lie of omission, and his own refusal to acknowledge a betrayal _worse_ than when he had abandoned the blue-eyed alpha he had fallen in love with so long ago. It seemed that Aki had taken his inattention as a sign that it was alright for them to start moving, likely more of an instinctual reaction than anything else, as they did just that. The first thrust brought Take out of his thoughts, but even he couldn’t tell if the noise he made was pleasured or not.
After that, he couldn’t have gotten lost in his thoughts – though the psychiatrist in Aki likely would’ve called it something else entirely – even if he had wanted to. Which he didn’t, he was fairly sure. Even with the awkward, painful beginning, the pleasure soon began to override everything else. The corner of his mind not finally beginning to enjoy itself wondered if it had anything to do with the pheromones the redhead was giving off, the scent of apples and cinnamon hanging heavy in the air, but the rest didn’t care. Though it might have just been the haze talking (pheromones affected betas too, after all), it seemed the only downside to this current position was that he couldn’t see their face. While normally it would’ve felt vaguely uncomfortable to watch Aki’s expressions when they were being intimate, mostly thanks to the constant worry of triggering their dysphoria, this time felt different.
Maybe it was the rut, an outside force finally shoving the pair of them into something healthy for once. Maybe the alpha’s pheromones and attentiveness to any little sounds he made were the cause. Maybe he felt more at ease and secure because of who he was with. Maybe the answer was all of it, or none of it at all, but it suddenly didn’t matter. All that mattered was the feel of Aki pressed so close behind him, steady and sure and loving, even as their hips never stopped moving. It was a rather ruthless pace, and thanks to how hard they were holding onto his hip with their free hand, he was probably going to have bruises later. Their other hand was still working to give him even more pleasure, fingers deft and movements dexterous, still thinking of him more than themself even now. But then, the wonderfully comfortable and comforting haze was broken by Take realizing that with every thrust he could feel Aki’s knot slowly forming.
This time, the brunet actively pushed away any thoughts not of Aki, or the sensation of being knotted by his mate for the first time. Every thrust before it caught and held fast was a kind of sweet torture. The relentless waves of pleasure, and just the right angle of the redhead’s hips, was a wonderful kind of agony. But then it did catch and hold, and instinct drove the alpha to press as deep inside of him as they could manage, climaxing with little warning other than sinking their teeth into the claim bite they had given him so many years ago. With all of his focus on the warm, heady rush of being filled so completely; had he been capable of it, there was no doubt he would’ve been pregnant from just the sheer _volume_ of it. The beta’s own release was more of an afterthought than anything else, at least for Take himself. Somehow, Aki seemed to have retained just enough awareness to keep moving their hand until he came was well.
For one blissful moment, everything was alright. | a00396da546f4c3888c6298360525f0a | ['7bb96ca56dd340babc017ee163536c70'] | To Find a Sense of Self
**Author's Note:**
> I headcanon Rei as a trans guy, fight me.
In the beginning, it was a means to an end.
The short hair, and the masculine clothing, and the _watakushi_. All just pieces of the self you constructed to further your vengeance. You didn’t give any thought to it beyond that – why would you have needed to? – even as you grew older. But then you arrived at Hyakkao to serve the members of the Hundred Devouring Families in their bids and gambles for the title of Student Council President and, ultimately, the position of Head of the Clan itself. Unassuming though you tried to be, your natural kindness shone through despite your best efforts, and you found many students oppressed by the House Pet System – much the way you had been oppressed – came to consider you something like a champion.
It made you uncomfortable, if you were being honest with yourself, but not for the reasons most would probably have thought. Most would likely have thought that you disliked it because the face you showed them wasn’t your "true" self, but that would have been wrong, you had come to realize. This self – the one that had been constructed from your rage and hate and pain – this was the self that you had chosen without even realizing it. A self that made you feel _like yourself_ , something you hadn’t felt since That Day. But that was only half the point. You disliked the idea that you were worthy of being seem as a savior. Deep down, you knew you were just as selfish as the rest of the Hundred Families. After all, you had only ever thought of one person besides yourself, in the years between That Day and now.
And then, you gambled with Yumeko Jabami, a girl so antithetical to yourself you likely would have hated her simply on principle. What made that feeling of anger worse, was that her sister was the only person who had ever been kind to you. Her sister, who had her mind shattered and stripped away by the very thing Yumeko loved the most – the malignant abhorrence it stirred up inside of you made you want to grind that insane girl’s face under your heel. Of course, as you perhaps should have expected from watching Yumeko up until now, betting with her made you discover things about yourself and understand things you hadn’t as a child much more clearly.
Yumeko’s sister was no saint, just as flawed and prone to vice as anyone else. Yumeko herself was no devil, even though she had a gambling addiction that likely could have made the demons of Christianity balk if faced with it. And you, you were someone different yet again. You weren’t the child that had sworn vengeance. You weren’t the adolescent that ruthlessly pruned away all emotions but hate and anger, so you could better nurse your pain and sharpen it into a weapon. You weren’t the teen that had come here with the goal of hurting people the same way you had been hurt, so that they would understand, so that they would know even _cattle_ could fight back. You were calmer, surer, perhaps even happier.
You still wore gloves, but using _boku_ felt like the first breath of air after drowning. |
7246028366ad4da9a1b02f79025ffc78 | ['7bc6bc12e7af450db1cc0c90c257b187'] | “Hi girls,” Irene smiles gently, reaching out to engulf the other two in a hug, and Seulgi can already see the motherly affection in the gesture. When Irene pulls back, she reaches out to Seulgi, who takes her hand like second-nature. “I brought your hero with me this time, Yves.”
Much to Seulgi’s surprise, upon meeting the eyes of the unknown girl, she finds a shocking mixture of awe and familiarity in scanning the girl’s face.
“You’re Kang Seulgi!” She says excitedly, standing up to shake Seulgi’s hand. “I— I’ve always wanted to meet you, I just—”
“I’m Jiwoo,” Chuu says with giggle, cutting off her girlfriend with a humorous glance in the taller girl’s way. “But everyone calls me Chuu! It’s very nice to finally meet you, Captain Seulgi!”
“Just Seulgi is fine,” Seulgi chuckles, nodding in the photographer’s direction.
“And my name is Sooyoung, but I go by Yves,” the other girl finally introduces herself, smiling at Seulgi almost shyly. “I’m a soccer player too, and I’m also kind of… the cause of all of this, including why Irene-unnie has been so busy lately. I’m really sorry about that…”
“Please don’t worry about it!” Seulgi hastily assures Yves, who bites her lip, a sudden expression of nervousness flitting over her features. Somehow, Seulgi gets the impression that this whole issue is even larger than she’d initially thought. “Although, I will admit that I’m pretty curious as to what’s been happening with all this League business.”
“I guess it’s time to start explaining,” Irene says, sharing looks with Chuu and Yves, her gaze especially lingering on the latter.
Meanwhile, Yves takes a deep breath, her smile becoming subdued. “I suppose it is. Seulgi-ssi, you might want to sit down for this one.”
A minute later, having finally taken her seat and given her order to the waiter, Seulgi listens intently as the beginning exposition of a saga is laid out before her, and she can feel her jaw dropping lower and lower the more Irene speaks of everything that had transpired in the past few weeks.
“Wait, so you’re telling me that the League has given you trouble before, like, _ years ago, _ but now they want to sign you and they’re _ still _ giving you a difficult time?” Seulgi gapes, summarizing the overview that Irene had just presented to her. Yves nods, chewing on her lip, and Seulgi turns to Irene. “That’s why you’ve been in so many meetings lately? And going out to dinners?”
“You’d be surprised how many representatives want to discuss contracts over expensive dinners,” Irene groans, picking up her glass of water to take a sip. “I’m honestly running out of dresses to wear to these outings. But yes, that’s why I’ve been so disconnected recently, even this week. Yves is another special case for me… she was my first patient I had ever taken on as a physical therapist… I couldn’t let her down— I _ can’t _ let her down.”
“I see,” Seulgi nods, and slowly, all the puzzle pieces come into formation in front of her eyes. “So… what had happened that caused the League to screw you over the first time?”
“I had been a collegiate player at my university at the time,” Yves explains, her voice low. “It had been a regular day— Chuu and I had been relaxing on campus during one of my rare days when I didn’t have practice. I don’t remember the exact details of it, but there had been a guest speaker on campus that day— the CEO of some major conglomerate. He had been impatient on campus and decided to speed on the roads and ignore the streetlights and walkways. I’d been crossing the street after Chuu when… yeah.”
“Oh no…” Seulgi whispers, mortified.
Yves sighs, absently twirling her fork around her fingers.
“Chuu had tried pulling me out of the way, but I’d fallen and the wheel broke my dominant leg… it was completely broken, but had it not been for Chuu, I would’ve died that day.
Meanwhile, Chuu whimpers, bringing up her hands to cover her ears.
“I don’t like it when you talk about that part,” Chuu mumbles, and Yves smiles apologetically. Seulgi watches as the older of the two takes one of Chuu’s hands, gently rubbing the back of it until Chuu pulls away with a glare. “And I’m supposed to be the one comforting you!”
Yves laughs, affectionately dropping an arm to wind around Chuu’s.
“I’m over the whole accident now,” Yves says honestly. “My family, Irene, and Chuu all helped me overcome it. It was… definitely not the easiest road to walk on, but it happened, and now I’m back here.”
“I remember Irene mentioning how you and Chuu just came back from the States,” Seulgi recalls. “Is that what you mean by ‘back’?”
Yves nods. “Yeah… back in my collegiate days, I’d been offered positions in the League, but in light of the accident, they were… kind of revoked.”
“What?” Seulgi’s eyes go wide. “Wait, just like that? They were gone?”
The younger player shrugs helplessly. “I know, and it was just as bad as it sounds. I broke my dominant leg just as I was about to head over to guest for a club team that weekend. I never had the chance to show any of the League’s representatives how I could play in a true adult setting, and they didn’t think that I’d come back, so they filled the holes with other new players and there just wasn’t any space for me anymore.”
“So you went to the US?”
“Yup,” Yves smiles tiredly. “Chuu went with me as well—”
“To support you!” Chuu pipes up, and she makes a rectangle with her thumbs and pointer fingers, imitating the clicking of a camera shutter. “I worked as a photographer!”
“—she went to support me,” Yves giggles. “She’s been my number one cheerleader for years now.” | 36eb4760549a4bc2a4599ce0c054fcbc | ['7bc6bc12e7af450db1cc0c90c257b187'] | “We won,” Irene sobs into Seulgi’s jersey moments later when they pull away, short of breath because _ damn, _ that was the longest 90 minutes of gameplay that either girl has ever played and everything is surreal, but kissing Seulgi feels like being grounded and being lifted up to the highest of heights at the same time— a strange, but exhilarating feeling that Irene can’t help but want to feel more of.
“We _ did _ win,” Seulgi chokes out, her own eyes turning water. “Oh, _ god, _ Hyun, you were absolutely phenomenal!”
“You think?” Irene blushes.
“You were the star,” Seulgi says, beaming as she taps on Irene’s rainbow captain-armband. “You _ are _ the star. My star. You are my everything, Irene. I love you so, _ so _ much!”
“Thank you so much for everything,” Irene gasps, throwing her arms around Seulgi’s neck and holding her tight. “Thank you for giving me the very best present of them all, Seul! I love you too!”
“You know I’d go to the ends of the earth for you, Hyun,” Seulgi says, raw adoration in her eyes as she presses their foreheads together. “I’d do anything for you, Irene.”
“And I would go to anything length for you as well,” Irene whispers, standing up on her tiptoes and pressing another hard kiss to Seulgi’s lips, and just for a brief moment, they forget about everything.
Of course, when they return to reality, Seulgi has a South Korean flag draped over her shoulders, and Irene’s been given a bottle of champagne to pop, but they grin at each other before turning back to join their friends in the festivities, hand in hand, heart in heart.
Nothing looks more perfect than the Olympic gold medal swinging around Irene’s neck, right next to the hummingbird necklace gift from Seulgi.
Because even after all of this time, even after Irene’s dream has been fulfilled, there’s still so much more to do, so much more to see.
Who better to see what life has to offer with than each other?
And they believe, believe, believe.
End.
**Author's Note:**
> thanks for reading, everyone seriously!!! and thanks to those of you who were so patient with me putting this up on ao3 nearly 1.5 years after its creation lol |
90de5105fb294673ada44a255b967ee5 | ['7bd180466ed9485eb9ac95120bcb50bc'] |
The sin of love
He was an angel, and Dave broke it.
He was pure, and Dave corrupted him.
He was light, and Dave dragged him into the dark.
"Karkat, don't you feel free?" whispered Dave. His black wings were spreaded all along the bed.
Karkat observed with weary eyes the beautiful wings that had once been white. Who had turned Dave into a demon? Who was responsible for staining his soul?
"Karkat, aren't you happier like this? Doesn't it feel wonderful? ", Dave gently caressed the black hair of Karkat. Oh, Precious Angel, so of him. "though... you still need to be a demon completely," he observed "then you'll be so happy that you'll forget everything, everyone, and then we will be together at last."
The chains that kept under Karkat were not made of metal, they were not chains that he could break. When you're an angel, the demon has no power over you. But when sin has tainted your purity, you are at its mercy. Some angels accept to fall, but others are eternal slaves. God can forgive them, but, to a certain extent, when crossing a line, there is no turning back. What line? The line where an angel stops loving God to love another being.
Angels are not like humans. Humans can love many things, and although God prefers that they love him, more than anyone else, they are free to do so, or not to do so. Angels, instead, must love him, and only him, otherwise they lose that right to their divinity, to what separates them from humans and demons.
"He will never forgive me," whispered Karkat, the tears sprouted from his eyes, burning as if it were holy water. Were the tears of angel in that demonic body, so full of repentance, the cause of the ardor?
"Oh, Karkat, who cares about him? He has other angels to praise him. He's got all those pathetic humans begging and praying, thinking about him all the time, what's the difference? "Dave seemed annoyed, his voice reflected the anger and envy he felt before God. "I turned my back on him so long ago, and you know why I did it? Because he gave it to me first. "
"You Lie, Dave", Karkat tried to separate himself from Dave, but this did not let him, on the contrary, exerted much more force in the embrace. "Dave! Let me go! I don't want to be a demon! "sobbed the corrupt angel.
"You're indoctrinated, but... that can change, everything will change. Don't you understand, Karkat? You love me, that's why you can't break the chain that I tie you to. You broke the most precious rule of the angels of God. And you've done well. Don't you want to fall into my arms? Do you not wish to feel the pleasure, among other delicacies forbidden to the angels? And everything while we love each other! "Dave's voice was filled with ecstasy, joyful, utterly immersed in the perfect vision that represented spending eternity with Karkat, both turned into demons.
"This is not love! This is... this is sin! And now I understand! I know I don't deserve forgiveness! I don't want to be a demon! Dave... you're the one who doesn't understand. For those of us who have betrayed God we have a horrible end waiting for us. It seems that we are eternal, we seem to be better than humans, without inhibitions, but the day of judgment will come, the day where everything comes to an end, and we, instead of joining the light, shall be destroyed. " Karkat tried to beat his wings, tried to get away from the demon, but Dave, with his red eyes, full of anger, passion and "love", did nothing but snap his fingers.
The chains completely immobilized Karkat. Dave let out a sweet and sickening laugh full of dream, of grief, as if Karkat just said a nonsense taken from a story, but far from angering Dave, caused him tenderness.
"Karkat, My Love," Dave drew his lips to the ear of his "reborn Angel," and, in a mellow voice, full of rotten caramel, as the most exquisite of poisons, said, "If I have to disappear, I don't care, no longer. I have you, my sweet, sweet angel, so pure that it weeps for those who dared to hurt you. So pure that not to hurt me, not my feelings, fell directly into the trap and fell in love with me. So pure that I could not help to drag you down from heaven, and bring you to me, to this putrid hell that is now paradise by your side."
"Dave, if you love me, let me go, please."
"Karkat, what's the point? There's no more forgiveness for you. You've broken the first commandment. The Gates of Heaven will not open again, not for you. "
"I don't care... I don't care! I don't want to be a demon completely. "
Dave slipped his tongue over Karkat's cheek, savoring his delightful tears full of despair. He felt a burning in his throat when he drank them, but that didn't stop him, they were sweet. So sweet.
"You will be," Dave started laughing "You'll be like it or not"
"I... I...! " Karkar clenched his teeth "I..."
"Yes? You what, Karkat? "
"I hate you!"
"Oh yes? Do you hate Me? What a strange emotion for an angel like you! " Dave observed white feathers that began to collapse. There was little left for the demon to emerged. Dave was doing good, just a little more and he'd be ready. "I hate you! And if I am to become a demon, let it be to destroy you! I hate you for doing this to me! " | fecd64b5eef249f89dfbbf7a13b106ae | ['7bd180466ed9485eb9ac95120bcb50bc'] |
Chained
**Author's Note:**
> This one shot is inspired by this precious master piece https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DbeZFBEUQAAVNxa.jpg, by: Chen ◈ hrak 轟爆 (https://twitter.com/s_tdbk)
> Hope you all enjoy and please give this amaizing artist a lot of love and support!
"Midoriya, I would like to ask, what do you think you are doing?" Todoroki asked in a deep, shrill voice, usually calm and indifferent but now almost unrecognizable. Midoriya was not impressed by him, nor by the furious look that seemed to promise to kill him.
"Hm? What do I think I'm doing? Of course, I'm giving all my love to Kacchan, can't you see it for yourself, Todoroki? Does Todoroki even understand something so simple? If you want I can explain it to you, but not right now, I'm busy, as you can see. " Izuku's eyes shone dangerously, with great indifference, or rather, disinterested in regard to Todoroki, the annoyance that was interrupting his quality time with Kacchan. That was the look of a degenerate immoral, and he was, his love made him like that.
'The villains also _love_ ', Midoriya used to say.
They were in Bakugo's bedroom, house empty apart for the three of them. Bakugo was restrained by strong chains, not being able to move a muscle. Midoriya had also drugged him so he could not defend himself. Otherwise, Bakugou would have been fighting back, always refusing him. 'After all, Kacchan usually behaves like a bad boy, and we do not want something bad to happen to you, right? I do not want to hurt Kacchan, because, it's also obvious, do not you think? Because I love Kacchan, I love you sooooo much, so much, so much that I feel like I'll lose my mind ... Oh, what will I do? My heart beats like crazy. To see you like this, at my mercy, forcing you against your will, taking away your freedom ... Ahhhhh ~ I just cannot get enough of you, my beloved.'
"Do not fuck with me, Midoriya, leave Bakugo or I'll make you pay ... Bakugo is mine, only mine", Todoroki approached Bakugo, Midoriya gave him a hateful look, but then his attention got caught by Bakugo's expression.
"Oh, are you happy to see Todoroki, Kacchan? Are you glad to see this person who has always forced his relationship with you?"
"Shut up, he's mine, I'm not the one who chained him."
"But you'd love to do it, right, Todoroki? Between equals, we can recognize ourselves, and I see it in your eyes, you want to lock up Kacchan as much as I do, you want to monopolize him ... Come on, there's no need to lie, do you think I do not know what you put a tracker on Kacchan's cell phone? ... I know you register and track his calls, I know you've isolated him to have him just for you, you're very selfish, Todoroki," Midoriya started to laugh like a maniac, crazy, burlesque; when he finished he sighed and smiled calmly "We are not different, only our methods, and of course, I am honest about it." he caressed Bakugo's cheek, sweetly.
Bakugo could not do anything except listen and observe. The surprise in his eyes was evident. He was not imbecile, he knew that Todoroki sometimes behaved strangely, sometimes he seemed very serious, his questions about where he had gone and who he had been with were extremely demanding at times. But was it true what Izuku said? He really did not want to believe that damn bastard, and yet it made sense.
Todoroki seemed to understand what Bakugo was thinking, he smiled lovingly at him.
"I did it because I always worry about you, Bakugo," Todoroki spoke now affectionate, but something did not end up being right, something did not fit. "Are you going to believe this villain over me? Me, the one who picked up your heart when Kirishima smashed it into pieces by choosing Mina and not you? It was me and no one else who took such care about you. I love you, Bakugo, everything I do is because I love you."
"Love, what do you know about love? I've loved Kacchan before," Midoriya approached Bakugo, kissed her cheek several times, gently sliding her lips. "I breathe for Kacchan's existence, but someone like you don't deserve Kacchan, you who only think of you and take advantage of my dear heart's broken heart ... That's why I'll take him, I'll stay with Kacchan. "
Bakugo's eyes looked tearful, remembering Kirishima hurt him too much because he had not stopped loving him, deep down, his heart was still captivated by that smile, by that sun that was Kirishima. There was nothing to do about it, Kirishima had chosen Mina, Bakugo knew that things would be like that, who would be willing to stay by his side? That was what he had thought ... after that was when Todoroki appeared. Bakugo had taken a certain affection, kissed him, shared things, but his heart did not belong to Todoroki, possibly he knew it and that unhinged him, that's why he had such jealous attitude.
"You are both crazy ... I hate this," Bakugo whispered, with the little voice he had, he felt too weak to scream, but he could not stand anymore from that stupid discussion. "I do not belong to you, I am my own owner."
Todoroki and Midoriya did not take those words well. It looked like they were about to dash at him and stab him. But it did not happen that way. They both seemed to smile in response, they smiled like an adult who just heard something very stupid, stupid and lovable, something so incoherent that no matter what it is can be forgotten and forgiven. They looked at him as if he were the crazy one in the room. They stayed quiet, calm, with that understanding look on their faces. |
425cd59c99514b3e85cdf580c2d22a6c | ['7bd47bf2fe474937a349c132b6540e7a'] | The carriage of the Mariene was stunning in comparison to the pale surroundings as it was a deep pinewood red colour with golden ornaments and decorations that screamed power. A horse as black at the night and taller than the handsome faced driver stood proud and silent as a footman leapt nimbly down to open the door. The two men were dressed in a fine uniform of dark blue with silver buttons and both had Himchan’s heart thumping as they were simply to die for. Though they were immediately overshadowed by the presence of the Mariene, who was a woman in her late forties who carried herself with grace, precision, and a certain elegant style that turned heads regardless of the first fact. She wore a hanbok that shimmered with layers of light mesh and had to be made of nothing short of the finest silks that made the cream colouring sparkle with rainbows of colour. A deep purple sash and a darker cream coat covered the top part of her whilst her effortlessly trestle black hair was swept back in a traditional style.
A gold Matoki mask covered her eyes, the etchings done perfectly to make the metal almost appear to be part of her natural face as no one was to ever know who the Mariene was.
Some of the younger children were scared by that and Himchan gently calmed them down and shushed them so that they would not make a noise. Matron would not be happy with him if the choosing was interrupted because of some over excited children.
After a few moments of walking up and down the line of five, the Mariene waved her hand at both Minki and Minhyun who clearly could not believe their luck and struck up a conversation with the Matron for a short time. At first it was happy and Himchan smiled before stepping back from the children so that they would not see the tears of joy which were flowing down his face. He could not be happier for the two boys as they were truly beautiful but there was just a little bit of bitter sweetness to the feeling though he pushed it aside.
Before jumping out of his skin when the Matron appeared directly in front of him with a face like thunder, “Come with me, right now.”
Too shocked to even register what had been said to him, Himchan followed along behind the Matron and out into the courtyard. He stuttered a little in shock when he found himself face to face with the Mariene who smiled softly at him with all the grace of an understanding mother. “Do not be afraid, young one,” even her voice sounded perfect to Himchan’s ears, “I am merely correcting a mistake that Matron made as I was informed that there were six people to be seen here, not five.”
Unable to utter a response, Himchan lowered his arms and felt very self-conscious as the Mariene walked around him a few times, scrutinizing every last possible angle that he could. Finally, she stopped in front of his face and used her fingers to lift his head so that she could look directly into his dark eyes. From the window he had seen her do this to all of the five who were being looked at and he hadn’t understood why. Now though he got the distinct impression that his soul was being completely laid out before those powerful eyes that swirled ever so slightly with something he had never seen.
For the briefest of seconds, the young man thought he saw a child, with black hair and a wide very happy grin whom held his hands out towards him with an unheard cry of ‘Mama’ before Himchan found himself blinking in surprise as he was brought back to the world that he knew all too well.
“Perfect,” the Mariene said with a genuinely soft smile sent in his direction before she turned to the sour faced Matron, “He is to come with me also. Thank you for being so kind and considerate.”
“But...” the Matron stammered, clearly just as shocked at Himchan was, “He’s of no name nor pride to anyone.”
The Mariene regarded her with a stern expression, “As are all who come to be our Brides. He is to come with us, along with the other two who you presented. Run along boys, gather your things. Within the hour the coach will be here to pick you up to take you to your new lives where I’m sure you’ll create an abundance of brightness for everyone.”
The last words were directed at Himchan and the young man shuddered a little though he had no idea as to why. This couldn’t be real, this had to be some form of dream because no one would ever want to claim him as anything let alone as a Bride. But there was no denying the gold faced woman as she walked proudly back to her own personal coach and then five pairs of arms wrapped around him in delight and sorrow.
The girls were naturally a little upset at not having been chosen but they seemed more thrilled at the idea that their Oppa was going to be a bride and the two boys were more than happy to know that they’d have Himchan with them in order to guide them through the unsure path ahead. Himchan could only just hug them back, unable to share in their excitement because it did not feel real in the slightest.
Though he felt the flickering flame of hope that he hid deep within his chest begin to burn just a little bit brighter.
3. Chapter 2
~*~
The world is huge
Filled with treasures and wonder
Don’t fall into the trap of being
Blinded by beauty
Else you’ll lose yourself
~*~
Chapter Two
~.~ | 927aa68df60c443ba7670b42bb1ccab0 | ['7bd47bf2fe474937a349c132b6540e7a'] | The mates shared a look of concern, a silent conversation passing through their almost telepathic abilities to be able to speak to one another without having to use verbal words. All wolves could manage this particular trait but once certain bonds were formed there were channels of communication that only they could access. Siwon always thought that it was a useful and somewhat tactile survival element that the wolves had in comparison to vampires but they couldn’t all be the same otherwise that would just get very boring and predictable very quickly.
He saw the female wolf’s reaction however to hearing about the book and a look of fear passed across her eyes, “You’re not thinking of giving him the test are you?”
If the words were supposed to be spoke aloud or not, Siwon did not know but it brought an extra lead weight to his stomach. Thankfully Kangin replied for him as in his weakened state it was harder to cope with everything. “He lived in a dog house a quarter of a mile away from the village, the touch should only be a very small amount if that,” gently Kangin sighed, “Plus they rejected and blamed him for everything that went wrong so we must presume that he became afraid of it which should have pushed it out of his mind.”
Siwon raised his head, “We tested Kyungsoo and we must test your new wolf to keep the peace between the clan.”
There was a harrowing silence between the three as they continued to ascend the stairs, each lost in their own thoughts. Putting Kyungsoo though the test had been a very trying time for everyone present because it was nothing short of making someone face their greatest fears but it had been necessary as he had been directly involved with the madness that had gripped his clan. His influence had been slight because he was far too young to understand what was happening to him and thankfully his mother had seen enough sense to keep him grounded in reality but even then it had been a struggle for the youngster to pass the test.
It had been a relief when he finally emerged from the experience, pale as a ghost and mentally completely exhausted but Siwon had taken the boy into his arms and just held onto him to lull him into a natural sleep. Though the man who conducted the test warned them all that there may be a seed still deeply lodged into the innermost sections of the youngster’s mind that could fester and boil over if he were to get into extremely stressful or heart-breaking situations. Something which was naturally unavoidable but he recommended a series of courses and lessons on dealing with such stresses would greatly reduce the risk of such a problem from developing.
It was still an event that none of them wished to live through ever again but this time they would hopefully be prepared for any problems. “I’ll send for the Doctor in the evening,” Kangin said softly, “Though I doubt that he’ll be anything like Kyungsoo.”
“I do hope you are right,” Siwon said, pulling up short all of a sudden to stop the two werewolves in their tracks, “Where is my son?”
“Sleeping already, like the little angel that he is,” Leetuek smiled softly, before tilting her head to the side in thought, “I think Kyungsoo and Kris are with him as well this evening.”
Both men turned to look at her in surprise, “Kris?”
Leetuek nodded, “Yes. It’s the name that Luhan bestowed upon our new son.”
“Luhan gave him the name?” Kangin frowned, unable to fully see how such a thing could have occurred.
His mate nodded her head in response, “Because Láng was too dismissive a name and he did not like the sound of his former human name so simply gave him the name Kris and Kris took it without much of a question.”
Siwon couldn’t help but smile softly at that, chuckling a little, “The innocence of youth is still a miracle to behold sometimes. Though I suppose it does go towards the boy’s credit if he accepted another name without a fight.”
Kangin nodded his head in response and tugged Siwon further along the corridor, “We should get you to bed, before you pass out completely.”
“No, let me see him, please,” Siwon said with a voice that was filled completely and totally with a heavy slumber but also an underlying stubbornness that would refuse to be budged under any circumstances. Both the alphas were perfectly used to this sort of behaviour from their vampire master, as he was still as strong in temperament as he had been for centuries despite the heartbreaks that had befallen him. Plus, Siwon believed that if he saw his son every night before he fell asleep that when he woke up in the morning the child would still be there and would not disappear.
It was a rather silly belief, even Siwon himself had agreed to it on a number of occasions in polite and friendly conversations with others but it was something that he had known his wife would have done because she truly believed in such superstitions and in order to keep her memory alive he would always attempt to look at his son before he went to sleep. It was becoming a lesser habit now as Luhan continued to grow and learn something new each day but tonight Siwon knew that he wanted to look upon his son though the reason why was as of yet unclear.
Still Kangin hoisted the vampire higher up onto his shoulder to take the weight off his mate who hurried forward down the corridors, vast skirt billowing out just a little bit more as she did so and in what felt like a number of seconds they were at the door to Luhan’s bedroom. |
e6d6d6796894499cb48790af1990b500 | ['7bdd99945d094767bdbae2e9e0365f67'] | * * *
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I was rewatching the TOS episode A Piece of the Action _and couldn't help picturing Sam in a pinstripe suit. A plot bunny was instantly born._
5. Redshirts and Jedi
_Because some things are only different in your mind._
* * *
"Hey, Warren."
Lt. Grossman startled as Kirk dropped into the seat across from him in the mess hall. It wasn't that he was surprised to have the Captain join him for lunch. Despite a rocky start (i.e., beating the crap out of each other) and some initial less-than-friendly competition at the Academy, they had developed a grudging mutual respect that had turned into a sort of friendship after the Narada. No, what surprised him was being called 'Warren' instead of 'Cupcake'.
"Hey, Captain. What's up?"
Kirk rolled his eyes. "When we're off duty, it's Jim."
Grossman smiled knowingly. "When we're off duty, you don't call me Warren."
"I thought you didn't like 'Cupcake'."
"It's grown on me." Grossman shrugged. Truthfully, he'd hated it, but that was before it had earned him points with Cmdr. Giotto. His CO seemed to take a special interest in disabusing anyone in security of having a tough guy self-image. Answering to a nickname like Cupcake had put him in the category of guys who didn't need to be taken down a notch for their own good.
"Really? Huh." Kirk flashed a grin. "I guess with your sim scores, you can afford a cream puff name."
Warren grinned back. That's what this was about. Somehow Giotto and McCoy had teamed up and coerced the Captain into working through the same training simulations everyone in security had to take. Kirk could more than hold his own in a fight, but the 'avoiding a fight' sims (Giotto's specialty) were proving more of a challenge. "Sorry, I'm afraid I can't help you with your scores. Anyone can watch anyone else go through the sims to catch ideas, but the Chief always adds little twists tailored for each taker."
"Yeah, I kind of noticed that." Jim's mouth went a little sideways. "How does he do it? Find everyone's weak spots I mean."
God alone knew. Service records only told so much about you and theoretically only the doctor ever saw psych evals unless there was clear need to know. As far as anyone in the department had worked out (and like rookies everywhere they'd sat up nights analyzing and debating how to impress/out-smart their CO), Giotto just used the Force. Grossman chuckled.
"What's so funny Cupcake?"
It was irresistible. "Security Chief is he. Won this job in a raffle he did, think you? Master Yoda knows."
Kirk rolled his eyes. "What is it with you guys in security and the whole Jedi thing?"
Warren leaned in conspiratorially. "If I tell you, will you requisition light sabers for us?"
"If there were such things as light sabers, I'd own a collection second only to Sulu's!" Jim laughed and then broke into one of his manic grins. Warren could almost see a light go on over his head. "I wonder if Scotty's ever tried to make something like that…"
Probably not if he had any sense; an image of Dr. McCoy's reaction the first time anyone came in with one of the inevitable injuries from testing one flashed through Warren's head. Security had a healthy respect for their CO's reaction to unnecessary injuries. They had a well-earned fear when it came to the doctor's. Grossman shuddered realizing that he had just planted the idea in the Captain's head, which meant that any retribution would include him too.
"If it could be done, I'm sure Scotty would have done it already," Warren said quickly. He hoped a bottle of decent scotch would be enough to bribe the engineer to support that claim. "Look, if I tell you, will you promise not to tell the Chief?"
"Absolutely," Kirk drew a small cross over his heart.
"Okay, you know how Giotto is always telling us that observing and understanding your opponent is half the battle? Well after what he did to the last guy who tried to hack his database, we sort of figured good old-fashioned surveillance might be a better idea as far as trying to get into his head and figure out how to beat those sims."
Jim grinned. "So you spied on him?"
"Please," Grossman feigned a pained look. "'Spied' has such ugly connotations. We carefully observed a more experienced officer in order to understand his approach to operational procedures."
"Right," Kirk snorted. "And I hacked the Kobayashi Maru because I was so interested in Spock's programming style. So what did you learn?"
"Well, you know how he and Marshall are sort of close?"
The captain's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"
Crap. He should have realized which way Jim's mind would turn there. "I _mean_ , Pike brought them both over from his last ship and they play poker together." Warren widened his eyes with a 'get your mind out of the gutter' look. "Jeez, Kirk, she's older than we are, but she's way younger than him."
Jim just shrugged. His lack of discrimination, at least while they were students, had been legendary.
" _Anyway_ ," Warren continued. "A couple of guys just happened to be in the right position to overhear her tease him about sounding like Yoda in those critiques he gives after sims. So we sort of started listening for it. Of course, Yoda said a lot of zen stuff and the Chief likes to quote Musashi and Sun Tzu, so it was hard to be sure. Still, people started making comments and it seems like he caught on and decided to play along with the joke."
"So it's just an inside joke based on coincidence." Kirk sounded disappointed.
"Yeah, basically, but have you ever read the books? Once we started really looking for evidence, we found the Jedi code:
'Jedi are the guardians of peace in the galaxy. | ef6de0bcccb4441ea8acccb6a8481f37 | ['7bdd99945d094767bdbae2e9e0365f67'] | Whenever Sam was over whatever was up with him, Jim was going to have a talk with him about turning their XO into ruthless card sharp. "But he passed on it a couple nights ago. I don't suppose anyone there knew why?"
"There was a certain amount of discussion during the game, but I do not believe any of it rose above the level of speculation."
Jim raised his eyebrows. "Like?"
"I am sorry, Captain," Spock replied earnestly. "There is a very strict rule that what is said at the poker table remains at the poker table."
Of course. Jim resisted planting his face on the table.
"If it is any reassurance," Spock offered. "I believe it would be within bounds to divulge that no one expressed concern that Mr. Giotto might neglect his duties."
"Okay," Jim sighed. "Thanks, Spock."
* * *
It was 21:00 and Jim found himself walking the hall outside Giotto's door. This was stupid. The Chief was allowed to have some time alone. Still, it felt wrong; he hadn't come out even for dinner. Jim knew about disappearing. He done enough of it until Bones had started dragging him back from whatever hole or precipice he'd found. And he remembered the times his mother had just locked herself in her room and Sam had…
…his older brother, _Sam_ , had taken care of him when their mother couldn't and later had taken the abuse for him when she was back in space and Frank lost it. That was, until that Sam couldn't take it anymore and disappeared. Was that why this was driving him crazy – the stupid coincidence that two people who had gone above and beyond to look out for him shared the same very common first name? Jeez, he was the one who should see Dr. Noel.
Jim turned on his heel and started toward the lift. He stopped. He'd lost one Sam because he'd been a stupid self-absorbed kid who'd never noticed that something in his brother was breaking until it was too late. _This_ Sam noticed when something was off with one of his officers, figured out what it was and did what he could to help. If nothing else, he couldn't fault Jim for trying to do the same and since his normal duty shift would have ended at 19:00, it was technically past the end of his day off anyway. At least that's what Jim told himself as he stood in front of the sensor on Giotto's door.
There was no response. Maybe he had left already. "Computer, Locate Cmdr. Giotto."
"Cmdr. Giotto is in his quarters."
And alone – if he was in there with someone else, he'd have set privacy. Jim thought back. He'd seen Pike knock. He tried that.
Nothing. Most security learned to be light sleepers and he doubted the Chief was any different. He might be ignoring the door, but that wasn't like him. There should at least be a 'Later' barked from inside. Kirk typed his override into the door pad. It stayed locked – Sam had disabled the override. That wasn't good. He entered Bones' medical override. At least that one hadn't been blocked.
Jim's first thought upon entering was that maybe he was wrong about Giotto being a light sleeper. He was stretched out on his couch, seemingly out cold, with a still active padd resting under a hand on his chest. Dear God, surely the man hadn't taken a day off just to catch up on reading reports? That was almost more sickening than anything Jim had feared.
Then he noticed the half-empty bottle on the side table. A few steps closer showed it was premium gin. So, the reading material wasn't work-related. Jim glanced at the bit of screen visible under Giotto's hand and wondered just how much time he and Spock had been spending together. It looked like one giant equation. Now that he knew Sam was okay, he ought to leave, but his curiosity was peaked. He leaned closer to get a look at the document title bar.
_A biomathematical model of somatosensory processes during proprioceptive adaptation_
Well, Scotty's idea of relaxation was a glass of scotch and a new edition of _Warp Mechanics_. God only knew what Spock read after a couple pieces of chocolate. There were times when Jim thought he was only normal person on the ship - except he had to admit that his inner geek found the title kind of intriguing. He took another look and this time a different part caught his eye: _by Maria Giotto_.
Ah. Okay, that was enough intruding. Jim started to straighten to leave. A hand closed hard around his throat, expertly clamping off his windpipe. Erk. Sneaking up on a sleeping Security Chief – what had he been thinking?
Giotto's eyes snapped open. "Captain?"
" -!- "
The grip on his throat dropped. "Are you alright, sir?"
Jim gasped for breath and felt his larynx. That was going to leave a mark. He could almost hear Bones asking if he was planning to make a habit of getting his senior officers to strangle him (and offering to go next).
Giotto sat up. "I'm sorry sir, but I did lock my door."
"In other words, what the hell am I doing here? I'm sorry Chief. I got worried and came in to check on you." He rubbed his throat. "I _promise_ it won't happen again."
Giotto raised a cynical eyebrow. "Next time you want to make sure I'm breathing, get a medscanner and stand out of reach, okay?"
"Deal." Something was still off. Jim's eyes involuntarily strayed to the padd. "You _are_ alright?"
"My wife's dissertation," Sam sighed. "She was at least ten times smarter than I am. Every time I try to read it, I get bogged down in the equations in Chapter 6." He glanced over at the bottle on the table. "Of course drinking probably didn't improve my reading comprehension." |
88a292c92474466f8093f0627cf856fb | ['7be151576bef4d3db202f67350331416'] | The phrase 'lying around' distracts Gale. After a long day of training, he'd like to lie around, especially with this feisty dark haired girl who obviously needs to blow off some steam.
"Johanna!" Katniss screeches.
A slim creature looks over from the tiny couch in the living area.
"Did you borrow my pants this morning?"
"Sure, she lets the roommate in her pants," Gale mutters under his breath.
"I dunno," she says blankly. "I wore pants. Didn't you ask me to do that?" Johanna looks up again. "Oh hello, gorgeous." She looks at him like he's freshly delivered vial of morphling ready to ravish her for the night.
She saunters over from the couch. When Gale scans down, he's stunned to see that the roommate is indeed missing a particular item of clothing. And from the waist down all she has on is a stringy contraption that looks more slingshot than undergarment.
Katniss glares at her roommate. "Do you ever wear pants?"
Johanna simpers. "As little as possible." There's mischief in her eyes and Gale wishes he saw that kind of mischief in Katniss's eyes more often. Okay, ever.
Johanna moves closer to Gale. "They get in the way," she mouths in his ear while trailing a finger down his chest. Gale's knees turn to jelly for a few seconds. But he's not weak, far from it. Quite the opposite, in fact. "What about you?" she purrs in his ear. He detects a hint of tongue.
When he doesn't say anything, she grabs the waistband of his pants. "Let me know if you need some help." Her fingers press the flesh of his stomach. Gale tries to stand up a little straighter. If that means her hands move a little further south, oh well.
"Katniss?" he strains, not quite knowing how to handle his longtime best friend's roommate. It's not so much an invitation for a third as a plea for intervention.
Is the roommate always this friendly? She's a victor. Maybe she's about to kill him and eat him. There hasn't been much meat in the District lately. Could be a mineral deficiency. No, his media-friendly mug is too important to the rebellion for Plutarch to ever allow that to happen.
He silently pleads to the cross girl. She stands with arms folded defiantly over her chest. Her chest. His eyes linger there for a few seconds. He's always liked that area.
He wonders if she's going to do something.
"Should I leave you two alone?" He remembers to look up at her face when she says this. She appears both uncomfortable and annoyed at the same time. "I could go visit my mother."
"Oh, I think you should stay," Johanna says in a tone that makes the hair on the back of Gale's muscular neck stand up.
Johanna pins him to the wall. "You're going to be a good boy. Aren't you?"
When you're between a terrifying temptress and a wall, what choice do you have? Gale closes his eyes. Hopefully he'll figure out what to do when he reopens them.
###
Johanna latches onto his mouth. This is no "nice to meet you" kiss on the cheek. It's a full on, bruise-causing, take-no-prisoners assault. Gale plays along, if for no other reason than he's scared stiff—stiff being the operative word—to turn her down and upset her. Johanna scares the pants off him—but that seems to be what she's going for, given the pull on his waistband.
He wonders whether this is District Seven's customary greeting or some kind of weird victor's ritual. Or maybe this girl's just thankful for the rescue from the Capitol. Yes, that's it. She's grateful.
"I don't think I've had a coal miner before," she sighs, her breath teasing his neck. For Gale it sounds a little too much like she's going to serve him up on a platter for a post workout snack.
"Rugged, I like that." She strokes the stubble his chin. "Kind of reminds me of the boys back home."
Gale wonders just how starved for manly attention this girl is. The shortage of virile men his age in the district has clearly affected her.
Johanna gives Gale an impish smile. And then as suddenly as she started, she stops and pulls away.
Gale wonders if he did something wrong. He wonders if it's his breath. The garlic stew they're serving around here does nothing for his game—and he's not referring to the four-legged variety.
"Katniss," Johanna calls.
"I'm leaving, I'm leaving," Katniss huffs, fingers strategically laced over her eyes. "I'll be across the hall."
For someone known across the country for practically being joined at the lip to a cake decorating fool, Gale forgot what a prude Katniss can be. That really needs to be remedied as soon as possible.
"Stay," Johanna demands.
"Ummmm." Katniss tenses and squeezes the door handle.
"But your cousin came all the way to see you," Jo smirks. "That would be rude."
Gale sees indecision in Katniss's face as she wavers, neither bursting out the door nor making a movement in the other direction. Maybe Johanna scares the pants off her too? He can only hope.
Johanna thrusts Gale over toward Katniss. Gale is now regrettably sandwiched between the girl whose quivers haunt his daydreams and the roommate he can still taste on his slightly chapped lips.
"Roommates share," Johanna baits him.
He's not sure what's supposed to happen next, but it seems like a fly by the seat of your pants kind of moment to him.
"Trust me. This will take your mind off Bread Boy," Johanna tells Katniss as she strokes Gale's chest.
Bread Boy, who? Gale thinks. This does work.
Katniss glowers. If Johanna was a guy, Gale thinks Johanna might have gotten the dreaded knee to the boys.
"You need to learn how to relax, have some fun," Johanna continues. "This will help." She smacks Gale on the ass. | cfbef21b8fa64d6d9583e32b31774819 | ['7be151576bef4d3db202f67350331416'] | We meet back in the bedroom where they will surely be looking for us before too long.
"Where to?" I ask, wrapping my arms around her small frame. Hiding spots are her specialty after all.
"Coat closet," she gives me a sideways smile full of mischief.
"We haven't done it in in the coat closet before."
"I know," she says in a husky voice.
She places a quick kiss on the cheek and whispers for me to meet her in a few minutes.
The seconds pass by agonizingly slow. I think back to the guest room, the basement, we've even tried the bakery and Haymitch's house. Even after all these years, she still keeps me guessing.
I tiptoe to the closet and shut the door behind me.
It's so small in here. I'm pressed against her and I'm not sure how we'll manage, but manage we will. After all these years, our bodies know the routine.
The children, trained trackers both of them, won't think to look here. And I smile to myself that her longtime fondness for closets has paid off.
"I brought the mistletoe," I tell her, one hand around her waist, the other dangling the plant overhead.
"It's a parasite, you know," she says crassly. "Now, hold this." She thrusts something furry into my hands.
"I forgot," I admit inspecting the object. "Who's getting the teddy bear?"
She grabs the toy back and stuffs it in a gift bag. I get the roll of red and green Christmas paper.
"Wrapping presents like this every year drives me crazy," Katniss scoffs.
I sigh and think she secretly likes the game of it all—the chase, thrill of hiding away without of being found out. I finally steal that kiss on her neck. "You'd think they know what we're trying to do."
**Author's Note:**
> Characters belong to Suzanne Collins'. Story is based on John McIlwraith's "Doing It in the Closet."
>
> Merry Christmas! |
6c8c1e00522a49c48885571e3cdf954b | ['7be6d67f5dc74f738c1dabaa4842a391'] | Half way toward the hall, the Templars and knights met them.
The two forces slowed in and came to a stop.
Ser Barris started.
“The demon is dead. Andraste be praised; she shielded you from its touch.”
The young man went on to call out the Templars as he saw them. And all he could offer was that whoever could stand still would follow the Inquisition. They would follow her.
Evelyn watched the faces of those in front of her – both young and old. Whatever had overtaken her in battle against the demon was fading, and only the exhaustion and residue of herself was left.
Evelyn explained the Inquisitions needs of the Templar’s forces, even as Barris said they’d been gutted by this betrayal and needed rebuilding.
Instead, the Herald told them to join the Inquisition as allies, sheltered and aiding in their cause. Together they’d close the Breach and see to it that the Order stays alive for now. They’d live to see another day under the protection and aid of the Herald.
Barris voted for this union, as did the brothers and sisters of the Order present. All together they shouted their approval of the joining and Evelyn stood tall among them. It almost felt like that day in the camps.
People would lend her their faith, and she’d nurture it for them.
The Templars would rally to _her._
The return to Haven took much longer with the bands of Templars following the Herald. It would be needed to have some of them meet and greet their fellows once they too joined the Inquisition at Haven. Two days extra was needed to guide them to their new seat in the camps of Haven.
The Herald herself lead the company and symbolized their guidance in this frightening time.
To her they listened once she spoke.
In Haven it was bustling with commotion when their great band was spotted. Several groups of people had walked onto the roads to greet them welcome with cheering and praise. No doubt did it raise the morale of the Templars, but Evelyn had started to appreciate their happiness to see her. She needed it then.
Once the many knights were ordered into place and the people of Haven returned to their daily lives, the Herald disbanded with her party and met with the council.
It was strange at first to see their faces full of emotion and life around the war-table. But they were indeed alive.
Josephine was full of colour, rosy cheeks from perhaps drinking a little wine in celebration. Cullen had a kind smile on his lips as she spoke with Leliana; Leliana mimicking the smile in her own way.
Of course, it was all kind of ruined once Cassandra’s furious person stormed in after the Herald.
“Officers betraying their soldiers, Templars without leaders, a demon imitating the Lord-Seeker…” She snarled out, one hand accusingly pointing at the map as if it was one of the treacherous red Templars.
“We should have taken them to task. The crimes they’ve committed…”
Cullen was staring at her intently.
“Were committed by their officers. The soldiers of the Order will serve.” He ended her sentence, both hands resting on his sword.
The jolly buzz of the room turned into a steely one. Leliana had stepped back from the Commander to stand at the edge where she usually stood.
She too looked bothered now.
“These crimes put them at our mercy. Yet the terms of this alliance do not benefit the Inquisition as they should!” She continued of Cassandra’s rant. Apparently she wasn’t all that happy about it as she’d seemed talking to the Commander.
“You should have consulted us, Herald.” She confronted Evelyn, as her arms were knitted together behind her back.
Evelyn faced her; features as cold as the air around them. Perhaps she should have – but was she the Herald for nothing?
“These _crimes_ are not on their hands, Leliana. We are an alliance now and they _will_ aid us. Do not let your anger cloud this fact.” Evelyn hissed back, not enjoying Leliana’s tone. She felt oddly impatient with the ordeal now. Emotions were stirring in her.
Evelyn turned away from Leliana to face Josephine who stood ready to note a mission.
“A few dozen veterans are coming, and they need a regular supply of lyrirum – untainted lyrium. I have a few contacts with me from the Redoubt – I’ll have them contact you Josephine regarding the trade.” Evelyn commanded a bearing voice, her ice-cold orbs boring through the poor woman.
Evelyn was beyond annoyed with the event. She had been fooled into her own mind, ambushed by _red templars_ , forced to watch her friends suffer and be tortured in visions of the envy demon – who was trying to steal her face. Here her greatest supports stood ill-willed and untrusting of the brave souls that had dared fight their superiors and follow the Herald in her cause.
Cullen must’ve somehow felt the Herald’s annoyance, as he shifted toward her, eyeing her cooly. Evelyn noted it with a deathly glare, but digressed from her stance. It would need convincing and time… not anger… Right.
Suddenly the pregnant silence was interrupted by a loud bang and a smoky blue light on top of the table; on the table stood Cole, fiddling with a small oddity.
“The Templars are coming soon.” He spoke more so to himself.
His show-y entrance was not appreciated as the whole council drew their weapons at him – Cullen exclaiming the Maker’s name.
Both the Commander and the Seeker came next to the Herald, as to protect once she didn’t draw her own weapons.
Evelyn reached out to them.
“Wait, don’t attack!” She told them, her hands resting on their tense arms.
Cole told the Herald he’d followed her all the way to Haven, to keep her safe. Evelyn was a bit surprised but she found it in his nature to do that. | 1896f4d2101848e79580740c0d54e64e | ['7be6d67f5dc74f738c1dabaa4842a391'] | Slowly she dabbed at his neck and jaw, over his cheekbones and up his temple, where stray hairs clung against the wet skin. He sighed into her touch, seemingly tensing a bit, like he was bracing it. Perhaps he felt so tired just then that he might fall over to his side if he didn't stay still. She kept her touches feathery as the thought floated to her.
He was so, very tired. And she understood, of course. Whatever he had done, whatever had given him the strength and resolve to shatter the bonds of red lyrium.. it was nothing short of a miracle in her mind. She would've been hunched over him, crying her prayers if she wasn't so exhausted herself. Despite her own fragile state, she felt the need to be there for him, more so than tending to any of her sores and wounds. He clung very desperately to her presence, even if she didn't notice it in his person. He grasped for her in his mind, held her close, avoiding for her to touch any of the crystals that jut out of him. He felt her hair, her lithe frame in his arms, and he would feel safe in that moment.
Alas, he was but too weak then, and he remained resting over himself, still holding his broken wrist. He ached and pulsated with pain, from everywhere in his body. A deeply needed sleep traveled up his spine and he would've blacked out then if it wasn't for her proximity. Her magic aura intertwining with his twisted and evil red soul. He knew what he was doing to her, just by being so close. He knew because he couldn't diminish the magic-dampening area of effects that exhumed from him. Usually, he would've been able to weaken it; controlled it so much so that she'd be able to feel her magic flow again. But now it was ravaging, and he couldn't even muster enough willpower to touch it, let alone have her able to cast spells.
She smoothed his hair down, trying to reform it into his hair. The wild fury of hair that sat on his head just wasn't him. It was the lyrium, making him rake his gauntlets furiously through it and tangling it the process.
The lyrium drove him mad.
It filled his ears with whispers of others trapped inside of themselves, strangled his breath and rocked his body as crystals pushed through him, pierced his skin and solidified his muscle.
It had started at his heart, growing out into his chest and shoulders. Surprisingly it hadn't restricted his movement much, but it made him stiff. He had to force movement onto himself if he wanted to get anywhere. Otherwise he would root into the ground, become a living red lyrium deposit. He had to keep moving.
Sitting imprisoned and chained to the wall, while your friends and supposed brothers feed you red lyrium, forcing you to swallow or them breaking your jaw and ribs in the process.
He had hoped he could stay himself long enough to be set free, and been able to find Evelyn and the Inquisition again. He had fought the whispers and the feeling of helplessness for so long, it wore his mind, and the world started to pale in comparison to what the fade demons promised him if he let them help him. He was broken then, forced to accept their wicked deals and letting them enter his body, fill it with power again.
It had set him free, but only because it was what Samson and Corypheus wanted with their red templars. To break their will and have them be hosts to the very demons they vowed to protect the world from.
He was still trapped with it inside of him, even as he lay nest to her, clutching at the reality, trying to keep himself steadied in it. The demon charged at his psyche from the fade. It was like a terrible migraine, thrumming with each attempt the demon made to corrupt him again. If he lost control, he knew he'd slip into darkness. It would be like falling asleep, but in reality he would be awake, doing the demon's bidding. As such, he felt like he hadn't slept for days, which wasn't untrue.
Evelyn's cold fingers, combined with the cobble cooling his forehead, he was kept awake by the pain and sensation of.. waking up. Of his heart beating. He had to stay alive. Awake.
His stiffly gripping hand relaxed against the gruely wrist, and he let himself curl slightly, arching his back so he could gain some lift, to see her face.
She didn't look at him then, only staring at the door leading out of the room. He watched her in his upside down view. Her face looked gaunt, bony jaw hanging loose even if her lips sat sealed. She looked incredibly tired, no doubt wanting to rest right then on the floor, but she sat straight. He could tell she was fighting it.
Her bright blue and yellow eyes were glazed, in dwelling. Perhaps how they'd get out of.. wherever they were. Her light brown hair was tangled, slicked against her sweat forehead and cheeks, the rest of it tussled with dust and the nature from outside. Despite her pale looks, he found sweet respite in seeing her again.
She looked down at him, finding his eyes. She blinked several times, her gaze suddenly focusing intently on him, like she was trying to pry his mind open before her, get him to spill his mind to her. He would have, if his cracked lips didn't sit so stuck together, and if his throat hadn't been so soar and hoarse from.. shouting? Growling? He remember a rumbling feeling in his chest as his mouth moved, like he was in a dream. But he knew whatever ”dreams” he had were glimpse of what he'd done. |
02e2ba54006143df86631ddf324f22d4 | ['7c039ff4917e42d09c588fa6ab79e259'] | Feeling the anger bubbling up inside of her, she continued to kick and shriek at it, until her father ran to her, having finally gotten out of bed, and held her back. Tears of frustration, she gave one last final cry of “ _Do **something!!**_ ”, before she finally stopped struggling, and let out a pathetic sob. Risking a glance back at her father, she saw that he was looking not at her, but the doll; shards of porcelain lay on the floor next to it, and she realized how badly she must have damaged it. She hurried to apologize, but her father stopped her with an upraised hand.
“It is your gift, and you may…..you may do with it as you wish, I suppose.”, he said, putting on a weak smile to reassure her. “I’m sorry it wasn’t the right gift for you. I’ll do better next year, I promise you, my dear.”
And with those words, he left her standing in her doorway while he went to fix breakfast for the both of them, the house silent and tense except for the sound of shuffling footsteps. And, despite all that had happened, her father was not in the least bit surprised when he peered into her room late that night, and saw her repairing the doll to the bed of her ability, putting shard after shard back into place with shaky hands and thin fingers.
And for a few nights after that, when the doll was fixed and sat in it’s chair once more, Miku noticed that it did not seem to move at night anymore. It stayed in place and faced the wall, and its eyes seemed more empty than usual.
And everything was quiet again.
4. Visions In The Moonlight
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hello! Bon-Bon here with a new chapter for you all!
> Wow, this one is the longest chapter I've written to date...I'm kinda proud, to be honest!
> I'm still working on my writing skills, so do feel free to leave critique if you find an issue! (Gently, though, if you don't mind.)
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! (WE'RE FINALLY PROGRESSING HOLY SHIT-)
> Also, subtle/not-so-subtle Amnesia: The Dark Descent reference included in this one.
_It was impossible to take in her surroundings at this speed; Miku no longer knew where she was, or how far she was from the village, but she kept running, knowing that a single glance back could paralyze her with fear. Besides, she knew she was still being followed; over the sound of her panting and the crunching leaves beneath her feet, she could hear the breathing._
_The deep, labored breathing that rattled out of the beast’s cavernous mouth._
_It whipped around her like the wind, trying to grab onto her and pull her back into the maw of the great beast trailing her, and yet she continued sprinting with all her might. It was no longer her own strength that kept her going, but fear alone, as she continued on, into the woods._
~~~~~~~~~~
Miku woke with a start to the sound of a wolf howling in the distance, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The nightmares had been relentless ever since the incident with the doll, and she was beyond exhausted. It seemed that whenever she closed her eyes, she could see the beast coming to swallow her up. She sighed, and pulled her pillow down over her head, attempting to block out the sound of howling from the world outside as she came to the conclusion that the wolf was actually a spirit, determined on keeping her up with it’s ghastly wailing.
And yet, now that she thought about it, it wasn’t the sound of howling, but the sound of crying. Nor was in the distance, but right outside her home; right outside her very window.
No, not outside. It was in the room with her, close by.
Chills ran up and down her spine, but she remained frozen. The sobbing was nearby, only a few feet away. But it was muffled, creating the illusion that she was hearing it through the wall, as if someone had their head buried in their hands. It was then that she noticed the sensation of something weighing down the bed near her feet, and realized that someone was sitting at the foot of her bed, letting out a ghastly wailing that both filled her with terror and broke her heart. Thinking that, at this point, the creature would have attacked her if it had the intention, she viewed it safe to get a peek at whatever was making the heart-wrenching noises. Lifting her pillow up slowly, she gave herself just enough room to look down towards the end of the bed, and observe whatever it was that was sitting just by her feet.
And there, floating just above her ankles, was a large ball of silvery-blue light. At first, it appeared to be nothing but an illusion; a simple trick being played on her eyes by the moonlight shining in through her window. However, as she stared, the light seemed to take the shape of a human being: first a torso, then arms, then legs, and finally a head, covered in messy, matted hair. The figure was curled up in a fetal position, and sat next to the small bump in the covers that was her feet, weeping softly, but shrilly, loudly enough so that its cries could probably be heard by the doll, which had remained deathly still and silent for days.
Trembling, Miku gathered the courage to face the apparition, and slowly rose from where she lay upon her bed, the sheets sliding off of her upper torso and gathering near her waist. The spirit did not show any signs of noticing her movement, and merely continued with its pathetic display, causing Miku a great deal of confusion. _Could it not see her?_ | 67bef4b7790d466f9052e2cd90026d91 | ['7c039ff4917e42d09c588fa6ab79e259'] | Gripped by a mysterious urge to caress and comfort the figure before her, she moved forward onto her knees, the covers now beneath her as she inched closer and closer, the glow becoming even brighter as she approached. Unbeknownst to her, as her hand was raised to brush the shoulder of the figure, the doll was beginning to tremble and shake, like a corpse awaking from its death-like slumber. Miku’s heart was beating against the confines of her chest, and she could see her hurried breaths forming icy, white clouds before her, as the temperature in the room seemed to be dropping rapidly. Time itself seemed to grow slower and slower, coming to an almost stand-still, before her fingertips brushed against - or rather, phased through - the shoulder of the apparition.
Quite a few things happened at once: The doll sat up in the chair, it's limbs going rigid and it's eyes snapping open as its porcelain lips parted and let out a ghastly wail; far off in the distance, an area of the forest seemed to shake as a deep rumbling came up from within the earth; and Miku felt a deep cold fill her being as she was blinded by a flash of blue light, and pulled into the figure by an unknown force.
She regained her sight suddenly, only to find visions of trees flashing past her, and a great chill holding her in place, as she watching through the eyes of a figure who was running for their life in the woods. The same woods that had appeared in her nightmares; an endless maze in which she found herself pursued by an enormous beast.
Soon enough, she found that the figure, whose body she had seemingly possessed, was also on the run from a beast, but not the same as the one from her nightmares. No, this beast had millions of trampling feet, jagged teeth of steel, and breath of pure flame. And yet the most terrifying part of this creature was its voice: it cried out to the figure in a millions different pitches and tones, sounding as though the entire village was screaming at once, crying out for the death of the sinner before them.
The screaming echoed in her ears, and Miku tried with all her might to lift her hands over her ears, wanting to block out their curses and screeches. Surprisingly, the sounds grew muffled, and she was able to hear something else that was echoing faintly in her ears: a familiar voice was muttering fearfully, and their voice faded in and out with the screams and the scenery that continued to flash by. Miku listened closely, attempting to make out the words over the roaring of the thousand-footed beast that was following closely behind.
_‘Don't let them catch you... Mustn't be caught…’_
The voice was of a male, not much older than her, and it sounded as though they were out of breath. Putting two together, Miku gathered that she was hearing the thoughts of the figure who was, at the moment, fleeing a beast.
_‘They’re hunting me... they’re going to kill me...I must hurry..’_
Hunting? _Why are you being hunted_ , Miku wanted to ask. _What did you do?_
_‘My name is Kaito...I’ve lived amongst you people all my life...You know me!! ...Nothing... I’ve done nothing wrong…!!’_
_Kaito...no...there’s no one named Kaito in the village…_
_‘What have I done to deserve this!? These people are crazy!!’_
**_People?_** Those are….people?! The truth hit Miku like a bullet: it was not a beast chasing this poor boy, but a mob. And they were thirsty for his blood.
_‘Don't stop. Don't stumble. I must escape! Keep running!’_
_Escape….escape! You must escape! Get out of there, quickly!_ Miku felt herself being filled with fear, the emotions of the boy being transferred to her, though she was powerless to help him, and could merely watch his plight. She shouted to him, despite having no voice with which to shout, trying to encourage him.
And yet, it was fruitless. A slight misstep, and the boy was tumbling to the ground, suddenly falling, falling deep into the deep earth, which was as black as a starless, night sky. And as the screaming of the crowd faded away, Miku heard one last thought from the boy, and it seemed to echo throughout her entire room.
_‘My name is... Is... I am Kaito.’_
As this strange world was swallowed up by the black void of the underground, Miku felt herself returning to her own body, though she retained the feelings of fear and an impending doom from the chase. She found her whole form to be tense with fright when she finally regained feeling, a single word escaping her lips as she breathed in and out, having been unaware that she had not been breathing until now.
“Kaito…”
And across the room, a deep voice answered:
“Is that my name?”
5. Quick Update!
Hello all! Bon-Bon here!
I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update! I've just gotten back from a long vacation, and now that I'm home, I finally have the time to start writing again! Expect a new chapter within the next week! However, I did wish to share some information with you all: I've recently managed to scrape together the resources to acquire Vocaloid 4! Not only this, but I also received my first voicebank: KAITO V3! Not only has it been a dream come true to work with Kaito (after about four years of wishing), but I've been having quite a few little song ideas bouncing around in my head for a while now, including one involving this story! So keep an eye out for that as well, as it is currently a possibility!
Anyway, I'm done rambling for now! Thank you so much for being patient with me! ^-^
Goodbye for now!
6. The Queen and Her Companion
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Aaa, hello again! Bon-Bon here!
> |
623ac3aa596c4974ac84d186ecd859bf | ['7c10e5a24ba44151b64e28c4e6013700'] | "Well, long story short, Kasper came to visit me saying he wanted me back, we had a conversation, and a little more than a conversation, but right after I told him it wasn't going to work"
"That is not what you told me" Eva turns to Chris "You said you were waiting in line at the Burger King and saw him across the street and ran away!"
"Thanks Eva! Way to make me look cool." Chris laughs, a little embarrassed "It doesn't matter, what's going on here?"
"Well, Noora is probably hiding from the Pepsimax crew, Sana is trying to not let her house get destroyed and Vilde was hooking up with Ingrid" Eva says looking pointedly at Vilde
"What? seriously? What about Magnus?" Chris asks in disbelief
"Magnus and I are fine! And Eva has been kissing some random 97er how is that better?"
"Because I'm not in a relationship Vilde! Are you kidding me??"
"Uhmm Dramaaaa" Chris sings while leaving the room so they can talk
"I don't get it, we kiss at parties. Why is that different when I kiss Ingrid? Why are you so mad?"
"Because she's not me! God Vilde how are you so oblivious? I don't want to see you kiss Ingrid, or Magnus for that matter. I want you to be kissing me" Eva says in a desperate tone
Vilde looks at her in complete disbelief.
"You want me?"
"Of course I do, why do you think I'm acting like this? I always wait for the parties because then I can be with you, even if it's only for a little while. "
Vilde can't help herself, she reaches up and kisses Eva, trying to convey everything she feels for the girl now that she knows her feelings are reciprocated.
"I want to be with you to" She says against Eva's lips
"Yeah?"
"Definitely"
She will deal with Magnus and the rest of the world later. For now she is kissing the girl she wants to kiss and she is infinitely happy.
**Author's Note:**
> My first fic ever so don't be too hard on me but feel free to leave some feedback. :) | 826ff53221f64fc689877c634b854dcd | ['7c10e5a24ba44151b64e28c4e6013700'] | Kara laughs softly. They’re breathing the same air, wrapped up in one another completely.
“I love you.”
Lena kisses her again, their lips rushing to meet, never being close enough.
“I love you back.”
They sit in silence for a while, both just basking in the comfort of the other’s presence.
Kara finally breaks it after a while.
“Did you miss the city?”
“Yeah” She nudges her nose against Kara’s. “But you’re still my favorite town.”
Kara kisses her wife again. And again, and _ again _ .
Later when she kisses lower and lower, finally reaching where Lena needs her most, she feels her heart swell inside her chest, she holds her breath like a prayer.
When Lena finally comes under her tongue, praises of _ Oh God _ falling from her lips, she _ knows _ this is heaven, and she _ knows _ , she’ll worship forever.
**Author's Note:**
> This is my 3rd fic ever and I haven't written in so long, please be gentle!
>
> If you wanna follow me on tumblr, I'm cloudforesttreefrog.tumblr.com |
d60c9ba2f9da4b929daa987ad819ef31 | ['7c32d4ee3c4748a79808b33421ffbdde'] | Where Do I Go From Here?
Our days are numbered. Some of us die young; some of us live to see our grandchildren have children. I’ve always felt invincible, like the world couldn’t touch me. But I’ve also romanticized the notion of dying young. “Only the good” right? Ha, what a laugh that would be. Me. Good.
I never thought I’d seriously wish to be dead, though. But I did. Not for very long; I never realized any plans. Life just didn’t seem worth living anymore. What was the point? How can you come back from what happened to me?
What a funny thing it is to wish to be noticed and then have it come true.
_Be careful what you wish for._
Everyone got their happy ending: Lizzie, Jane, even Mary. But that’s okay. I never expected to have a happy ending. It’s unlikely I ever will. It really wouldn’t make sense, would it? Lydia Bennet and happy endings.
Love, romantic love, is such a weird thing. I’m scared to try and taste it again. I should have stuck to my rules, remained the carefree girl. Never given him a second thought. What was I thinking?
I was thinking… I was thinking he saw me, _really_ saw me. To my mother, I had always been lively and pretty, gathering enough attention from boys to guarantee a future marriage. To Jane, I was her little sister, someone to worry over. And Lizzie… I was a problem, got into too much trouble, would never “grow up.” But to _him_ , I was me. Good enough.
Is this what life is supposed to be? Mistakes and heartache and breaking to the point of nothingness? Pain?
And what now? Where do I go from here?
Counseling. Family dinners. Babysitting. Back to school. Trips to see Jane, Lizzie. Froyo with Mary. Normalcy.
Lizzie says I shouldn’t vlog anymore, but I don’t really understand why. Just because she’s stopped doesn’t mean I have to. I don’t want to do it for me, anymore. I don’t think she gets that. In the beginning, I just wanted to be famous or something. Silly. But… now? I feel like… I feel like I could help people. You know? I don’t know.
I watch the old videos sometimes, the ones from the beginning. I’m not that girl anymore, but I want to hold onto her. She’s all I’ve ever known. This world is big and scary; I realize that now. But you can’t be scared forever. _I_ can’t be scared forever.
I refuse to be tainted by my past. I’ll prove how strong I am.
There’s nothing shameful in who I was, who I am, or who I will be.
I’m just broken, for a little while. I’ll break again, I’m sure. A never ending circle.
Everything will be different now, though. I finally have Lizzie and Jane, even if at a distance. And Mary. Mary is here every day it seems. She helps keep my mind off the bad thoughts. Who knew such opposites could be so good for each other? I’d like to think she’s taken a piece of me, and I of her. She’ll always be here.
We’ve made plans to move in together. Our own small apartment. Just us two.
Maybe you’ll get to see it sometime, see Mary again. Lizzie ditched her camera at home. So.
That’s where I’m at now. Unsure, but sure.
I’ll keep going.
At least that’s the plan.
**Author's Note:**
> This is my second ever fan fiction piece. Ever. Like, ever ever.
>
> I, by no means, know as much about Lydia as Rachel Kiley or Mary Kate Wiles, but this is my interpretation of her thoughts after Lizzie ends the diaries vlogs.
>
> This is a stand alone piece. At least for now? I don't know. I'd love to explore more.
>
> But, um, yeah. :) | b9ef058e36454104a8dd586dc65a0267 | ['7c32d4ee3c4748a79808b33421ffbdde'] | “I cannot believe I married that man!” Mrs. Bennet threw her napkin to the ground and followed her husband into the kitchen to yell at him more.
Lydia, oblivious to the entire interaction, looked up from her comm. “What was that all about?”
“Nothing,” Lizz responded. Lydia shrugged and retreated to the living room.
Mr. and Mrs. Bennet reentered the room, still fighting. “Do you WANT to give me a heart attack? I swear, one of these days-”
“Dear,” Mr. Bennet grabbed his wife’s shoulders. “Our girls will be fine and they will live happy lives whether or not they marry Dr. Bing Lee.”
“How can you be so _sure_?” Elizabeth’s mother was nearly in tears. In moments like these, Lizz could see past the crazy and understand the love her mother had for her three daughters.
“Because we raised them well.” He hugged her, kissed her head, and left to go into his study. Jane smiled and got up to hug her mother as well.
“Momma,” she said, “we’re fine. I promise.”
Mrs. Bennet began crying then. “When you girls have daughters of your own, maybe you’ll finally understand my worry.”
Lizz rose from her chair and patted her mother on the back. “By the time we have daughters, the world will be a different place.”
Mrs. Bennet’s tears stopped. She stepped out of Jane’s embrace and turned to face Lizz. “That’s what I thought, too.” And she began clearing the dining room table.
Lizz was about to respond when Lydia burst into the room, holding her comm in the air. “You GUYS, oh-em-gee. You will NOT believe this news!” She squealed and did a twirl, pretending to dance with the comm. “This Bing-whoever is going to be at cousin Ellen’s WEDDING! Apparently he’s a friend of that weirdo she’s marrying? I-dee-kay, but HOW EXCITING IS THIS?! I wonder how hot he is…” A dreamy look washed over her face before it quickly vanished and she danced her way back into the living room, humming the Wedding March.
Mrs. Bennet smiled, laughed, and bumped her hips against her daughters’. “One of you will be married yet! Mark my words,” she yelled as she made her way into the kitchen.
“Oh, moms.” Jane laughed.
Lizz rolled her eyes and pretended to gag. “I’ll be a vampire before I ever get _married_.”
“Watch your words, Lizzie,” Jane said. “They might come back to BITE you!”
Lizz shook her head, smiling, and retreated to her room.
4. Sister Sister
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Lydia has some news.
“Wow.”
Lizz and Char were in Mr. Bennet’s study, working on their respective midterm papers. Lizz looked up at the sound of Charlotte’s voice. “Wow, what?”
“Come here.” Charlotte was gaping at her comp screen.
“What is it?”
“Just come over here and look!”
With a sigh, Lizz set her own comp on the coffee table and walked over to Charlotte. “ _What?_ ”
“Your last video, the one with Jane? It’s got 10,000 hits! And there’s more than 500 comments. A majority of them are about Jane but -“
Lizz grabbed the comp screen and looked at it closer. “10,000 hits?” She did some scrolling, refreshed the page, and even zoomed in on the number. “Oh my god. Char. How?!”
Charlotte laughed. “I have _no_ idea! I guess people really like watching you? Maybe it was your impersonation of that southern vampire.”
Lizz started reading some comments. “Oh, gross, never mind. Here, take it back.” She handed the comp back to Charlotte, who laughed.
“You didn’t even get to some of the good ones!”
“I don’t need to. I saw enough.”
Charlotte smirked, knowing full well Elizabeth was just going to get on her own comp to begin analyzing the comments. “Okay, then.”
Lizz was muttering about lack of demon education when Lydia burst through the room. “Hey Char, hey Liza.”
Without looking up, Lizz mumbled, “how many times have I asked you not to call me that?”
“Not enough.” Lydia plopped down on the couch beside her. “Can you help me with something?”
“No.”
“OH MY GOD, you don’t even know what it is yet!”
“I don’t need to know,” Lizz responded, eyes still glued to her comp screen. Lydia crossed her arms and sighed dramatically.
“Fine, then I’m not going to tell you what I know. Which is something YOU don’t know.” She poked Lizz in the arm, stood up, and skipped to the door.
“Wait,” Lizz finally looked up. “What do you know?”
“Are you gonna help me?” Lydia put her hands on her hips and started tapping her foot.
“God, fine, I’ll help you. Now what do you know?”
Lydia smiled and returned to the couch. “So remember how moms was freaking out because she heard from Marie who heard from Ben who heard from his cousin that Doctor Bing Lee had gone back to sector 7 to fetch some vamp and wolf gals and how that meant none of us would be able to marry him?”
Lizz rolled her eyes. “Yes.”
“Welllll,” Lydia smiled. “He only brought back his sister! JUST HIS SISTER!”
“Wait, how do you know this?”
“Oh, um, well. Moms paid me 10 e-monies to take the elevator up to the upper deck and scope out the place-“
“You took the ELEVATOR? Lydia, do you know-“
“Oh em gee, Liza, will you chill? I’m alives, obviously. And you haven’t even heard the BEST news!”
“He’s already married?”
“HE BROUGHT BACK ANOTHER MAN! Super pale, though. Like, dude needs some tan.”
“Wait, so you saw the mysterious Doctor Bing Lee?”
“Well… the back of his head. He’s like a ghost! Can’t get a good glimpse. I did hear him call the new hunk Darcy.” Lydia shrugs. “That’s all I got, though.”
“Darcy?” Lizz snorted. “What kind of name is _Darcy_?”
“Isn’t that the name of the romantic counterpart in that movie from the 2000’s you like so much,” Charlotte chimed in. |
2fb2b02f8ba44035b576683d7bb6d0c6 | ['7c3748d9dad440b78acb4c8edb8553b2'] | Roose Bolton looked down at the letter, and a smile crossed his thin lips. The Lannister seal was a bit obvious, but he wouldn’t have expected any better from a boy playing at being a king. Boys playing king, it was a joke, but Roose could play one against the other easily enough. Robb Stark had to learn the consequences of dismissing him, ignoring his ideas and letting his Southern whore speak to him the way she did. The Starks had always been pompous and self-righteous, claiming to respect Northern traditions, but they forbade the Boltons to punish as they saw fit. They forgot in their arrogance the Red Kings who had overthrown Winterfell more than once.
He would make sure Robb Stark would learn, even if he had to use a mewling lion to do it. He would be the new Warden of the North, and when things had fallen about the other boy king’s ears, a Red King would rule once more. He held the letter over the flame of a candle on the table, until the damning words were no more than ash and the tongues of flame licked his fingers.
* * *
Margaery didn’t know whether she was elated, frustrated, or irritated. She _knew_ why Robb had asked for her brother to join her house. She had explicitly told him there was no Tyrell in her entourage strong enough to take over the house. Loras could do it, and as the third son, if he was a member of her House he wouldn’t have to worry about competing with Garlan in the future for inheritance and land. She could see the chance to be _Robb’s wife_ creeping closer, and that hope actually _hurt._ She couldn’t let herself believe it would happen, not with her father striding around a camp nearby, bringing everyone’s attention _again_ to the fact that she was different, that she was not of the north. If he said yes -- and he would when Grandmother finished with him -- Loras would be joining her house. Her brother. Her _older_ brother. It was already hard enough to get and keep the respect of the Northern lords, but now she would have to fight her own men slightly, as Loras was older and male. They would want to follow his orders on instinct. She just had to hope that the loyalty that had led them this far would hold out.
When the war council ended, Margaery did not linger as she usually did, there was much to be done, and her irritation was too close to the surface. She had to regain control of her emotions first. She left the hall with the rest of the Northern delegation, making sure it was obvious where her loyalty still lay, pausing only when Dacey put a hand on her shoulder. “Dacey,” she said, falling in step with her friend.
“Training?” Dacey asked, clearly amused at Margaery’s unusually cool attitude and unwillingness to stay behind, leaving a whining direwolf and slightly perplexed looking king in her wake.
“Absolutely.” Margaery answered in relief, wrapping an arm around Dacey’s and leading her back towards her encampment. Dacey was always armed and ready, Margaery was not. “You can help me into my new armour. Poor Armin worked so quickly to get it ready.”
“Probably because you were an idiot and went out to battle without a shield and got yourself hurt.” Dacey replied with amusement instead of ire.
“It was too heavy.” Margaery reminded her, with a chuckle, drawing her into the tent.
* * *
Robb didn’t know what he did wrong, and sat at his war table, face scrunched in thought. He had to have done _something_ wrong, why else would Margaery have left the way she did, without even reaching out to pet Grey Wind goodbye? He had only been trying to arrange it so they could be together. He had told her that he would fight for her, after all, and she loved her brother...so why did she seem unhappy? Perhaps she was not interested in him? He couldn’t believe that, not after what she had said about wishing they had met before he was a king, not when she whispered to Grey Wind about her heart. He ran a hand through his hair as he mulled over his thoughts.
Catelyn Stark watched her soon from the doorway, amused and sad all at once. She had known for ages that there was something between her son and the Tyrell girl, and she had a feeling it was not the Ironborn raids that had her son looking so ruffled. “What has you worrying so, Robb?”
Robb started at his mother’s voice, and his cheeks coloured in the same way they did when he had sneaked out to the practise yard with Jon as a child too young for it. “Politics.”
Catelyn smiled and moved over to sit by her son. “Yes, the politics of marriage are always interesting.” She said lightly. “Especially during a war.”
“I didn’t say…” Robb protested.
“You didn’t have to.” Catelyn answered. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. I’ve seen the way Grey Wind treats her like she’s his mistress as much as you are his master. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”
Robb seemed to sink in his chair, running his hand through his hair again. “I don’t know what I did. She...she didn’t even pat Grey Wind goodbye.” He sounded lost.
Catelyn shook her head at her son. How was it that he could lead an entire rebellion, and still be so clueless about matters of the heart? Then again, she supposed that they were still quite young. “Robb, if you had gone to King’s Landing instead of Arya, and your father had left her in charge, and then you returned...who would the men prefer to listen to, you or Arya?” | 2fe1adb139154c7d9f51d9da6abe7e1b | ['7c3748d9dad440b78acb4c8edb8553b2'] | Margaery’s jaw ticked, but she nodded, and without another word, walked into the room. She had taken a deep breath just before, but it all whooshed out at the sight of Robb on one of the hospital beds. She swallowed hard, but his mother was on one side and Sansa on the other, and she felt adrift, suddenly. Instead, she reached for the chart, flicking through it quickly and efficiently. The girlfriend part of her was horrified by the cracked ribs, broken leg and bruising described, as well as the suspected concussion that would have to be checked for when he regained consciousness, but the doctor in her realised that the damage could have been a lot worse.
“Margaery!” Arya said in relief. “Finally! The woman at the nurses’ station said she paged you _ages_ ago.”
That brought Margaery’s head up and away from the chart in surprise. “No one paged me. A nurse told me Robb was brought in, and I ran straight here.”
“That _wench_.” Arya fumed. “We asked her to page you over two hours ago!”
Margaery narrowed her eyes, and huffed. “I’ll take care of _that_ later.” She said in an annoyed voice. She skimmed over the information one more time and put the chart back.
“How bad is it?” Sansa questioned. She trusted Margaery to tell her the truth more than some strange doctor, just as Arya did.
“As much as I can tell, looking from the chart, it’s not good, there’ll definitely be some time needed to heal and recuperate, and much of the tour will have to be cancelled. We’re looking at six to eight weeks on the leg fracture, and two months on the ribs, at _least_.”
“But he’ll be all right?” Ned asked, from where he was standing against the wall.
Margaery paused, biting her lip. She really shouldn’t give a prognosis, but she wanted to reassure Robb’s family as much as she needed to reassure herself. “Based on what I’m seeing here, yes.” She turned to look at her bruised boyfriend on the bed. “Robb’s incredibly strong-willed and quite stubborn, so I’d put my money on him.”
“Marg?” Robb muttered from the bed, coming back to consciousness hazily. “Grey Wind sitting on my chest again?”
The room let out a collective sigh of relief with a bit of a chuckle in the undertone, and Catelyn squeezed her son’s hand. “You were in an accident, Robb.”
“I was?” Robb said, in confusion. “Mum?”
“I’m here, baby.” Catelyn said in reassurance. “Mum’s here.”
Margaery gestured to Sansa who moved and let her take her place. “You sustained quite a bit of damage, so I’m going to check you for a concussion.” She said, businesslike. She couldn’t be the concerned girlfriend right now. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Margie…” Robb groaned, and then blinked his eyes blearily.
“Not quite.” Margaery said, amused despite herself. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Robb Stark.” Robb answered, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes or remind her of all the times she had used it in far nicer circumstances. “Have you met my parents?”
“I’ve been a bit distracted with you showing up in this condition. Such things can be handled later. I’d rather be sure you’re all right before anything else.” Margaery replied. “Any pain in your head?”
“Bit of a headache.” Robb admitted. “Mum, Dad, this is Lady Margaery Tyrell.”
“On a scale of one to ten?” Margaery prompted, trying to keep him focused.
“About a two in my head, about a five everywhere else.” Robb admitted.
Margaery hummed slightly, that meant about a four and a seven for other people. “Any nausea?”
Robb shook his head and then regretted it, wincing. “No.”
“No sudden movements!” Margaery reprimanded. She then reached into the pocket of her white coat and pulled out her penlight. “I’m going to shine a light in your eyes to check your pupils, if it becomes too much at any point tell me.”
“Usually use that thing to find the toys Grey Wind hides under the couch.” Robb grumbled, slightly uncomfortable, but went along with it anyway. “Margaery, these are my parents, Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Stark.” He introduced as his girlfriend shined light in his eyes from various angles.
Margaery clicked the light off, and then turned to smile at his parents. “A pleasure to meet you, Lord and Lady Stark.” She turned back to Robb. “Now I want you to look straight on at my nose.” She tapped her nose out of habit. “Keep your eyes focused there.”
Robb retaliated with a goofy (and slightly drugged smile) by kissing her on the nose.
“Robb.” Margaery said after a moment. “If you’re not going to cooperate, I’ll have to get another doctor.”
“Okay, fine. Continue Dr. Tyrell.” Robb said in annoyance.
Ned realised, it was the exact same voice he had used as a child when forced to leave the practice yard and go study with Maester Luwin. He looked at his wife and saw the cross tilt to her mouth, and sighed to himself.
She finished the exam, just as the friendly doctor reappeared. “Ah, Doctor Tyrell, how is our patient?”
“Responsive and presenting with a moderate concussion, aside from his other injuries, sir.” Margaery responded, formally.
“Good, good. I was afraid the head trauma might be more severe despite the results of the CT.” The doctor said, easily. He checked a few things and talked about recovery time. The entire time Margaery stood by the side of the bed, across from his mother, running two fingers down his arm in a gesture that was meant to comfort both of them.
“...and while you’re recovering, I don’t want you living alone. I _would_ actually prefer to have you under a Maester’s care, if nothing else.”
“I’ll be taking leave to take care of him.” Margaery said, calmly to the doctor. |
c81a8a9307084f259a695d9752abe01f | ['7c5407eb1e1046f7ba2df362ce1ba3d8'] | If it wasn't for the fact that he didn't want to traumatize his soulmate that he had just met, he'd probably had jumped off right there and then for both the pain and embarrassment. Jaehyun, on the other hand, took it in good stride and though he was taken aback in the beginning because those were the _exact_ same words written on _his_ wrist for the whole of his life, started laughing after processing what taeyong had just said.
"I've always been here." Jaehyun rubbed the back of his nape shyly, and taeyong honestly had never seen anyone look that _soft_.
And then he realised what jaehyun had just said.
"Wait, what?"
"I.. spend my time here alone to read because it's peaceful and relaxing, as you probably already know," Jaehyun started and waved his hand around the place, ultimately pointing at where he always sat before continuing, "and i really don't mean to eavesdrop on you, i swear, but it just so happens that you come here when i'm here and i never really want to interrupt you nor do i know what to say, so i just... you know..." He confessed.
Taeyong was, once again, speechless.
"Don't worry though, i've been bringing my headphones in recently so i wouldn't hear you and invade your privacy." Jaehyun tried to assure him, holding his hands up in surrender. It wasn't the fact that jaehyun had invaded his privacy or anything, but more of how much the other knew about _him_. Many of the things he had said at this place were things he had kept in for so long and never told a single soul about. He fet a wave of heat creep into his face as the embarrassment punched him in the gut even more than it already did. Jaehyun, sensing the shock in taeyong and unsure of what he was about to reply, decided that to lessen the awkwardness and carry on the conversation, he should take his jacket off and put it around taeyong who was wearing a singlet despite the harshly cold weather that night.
_'How romantic and disgustingly cliche and_ cheesy.'
Jaehyun did it anyway.
Taeyong, however taken aback by his action, smiled and mumbled a soft thank you. Moments passed and silence befell upon them once more. While Taeyong was deep in thought at what his next move should be, Jaehyun couldn't help but notice the fragrant smell taeyong had now that he was much closer to him. A warm feeling spread in his chest as he realised, or more like hoped, that taeyong's smell would rub off on his jacket so he could, as less creepy as he could, have the scent of taeyong with him until the next time he had to wash the jacket.
Taeyong finally broke out of his trance and, slightly still high on his breakdown, came to a decision that there was nothing left for him to lose. "Since you already know so much about me, do you want to maybe go out for lunch or dinner sometime so i could then, maybe, know more about you too?"
He may or may not have said it in one breath.
Jaehyun's smile practically reached his ears and taeyong now knew why the stars were shining so brightly that night.
"I guess if i say yes, i could finally have your consent to listen to your rants and not feel guilty for hearing it anymore, so yes." Jaehyun joked, causing taeyong to break out into the a huge smile. It was the first time jaehyun had seen him smile throughout his whole time of watching him (if you don't count those times he watched him while he was with Taeil).
"Oh, and i'm Taeyong by the way." Taeyong introduced himself, realizing he hadn't earlier, and jaehyun was just about to tell him that he already knew but stopped himself because that would probably make him look even creepier than he already did so he pursed his lips into a smile and was about to hold his hand out to shake taeyong's hand when he remembered the book in his hand and realised he owed taeyong a more thorough explanation.
"Nice to meet you. Also," He held the book up in his hands to show it to taeyong. "This is The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy by Douglas Adams. I just finished reading it today and what i said just now was from here." Taeyong tilted his head unsure of what he was talking about so jaehyun quickly added on, "I mean, what i first said to you about 42 being the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything. It's this famous quote from this book but it's really good and you should really read it... though i don't know if it's your style-"
Taeyong watched as the other kept talking and let himself smile once again, the feeling in the pits of his stomach and his chest slowly disappearing with every word jaehyun says. For that short moment, taeyong blurred out everything that had happened earlier that day and all the weeks before that and focused instead only on jaehyun. The answer to all the questions he has ever had.
With the moon reflecting it's light on them and the stars shining above for them, Jaehyun couldn't help but feel like it was exactly the perfect backdrop for the start of _their_ story.
**Author's Note:**
> First jaeyong fic i've written so i hope i did some justice to them! I've been itching to do soulmate aus and this just kind of came up in my mind while i was bored out of my mind at work and desperately trying to distract myself. Thanks for reading, comments and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated :) | 9a3669268f77413b8673896214f01c6a | ['7c5407eb1e1046f7ba2df362ce1ba3d8'] |
42.
That was all that was written on taeyong's wrist from the moment he popped out of his mother's womb. It wasn't even spelled out, just purely numbers.
42.
It haunted taeyong for years once he discovered what the tattoo was for. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't wrap his head around any of the possible answers behind this. What did it mean? Was it an answer to a test? Was it a queue number? Will it be when he is old and frail, playing bingo with other elderly people, that his soulmate will be the one to shout out the numbers? All of them were possible, but in his twenty two years of living on this earth, none of them have happened so far. It was always either a number or two away. It was so specific that there must've been a deeper meaning behind it, right?
"Are you thinking about your soulmate again?" A familiar voice jested, bringing taeyong out of his thoughts. Taeyong threw a quick glare at the older boy and gave a soft snort. Taeil grinned, knowing that he was right about it. "Listen, you'll meet them too one day for sure, okay? For now, you have got to stop spacing out."
"That's what you always say," Taeyong jokingly rolled his eyes, making taeil gently hit him on the shoulder for the disrespect. "and anyway, were you saying anything important?"
Taeil gave an exasperated sigh and nodded his head. "Yes, i was, in fact, saying something important." He grumbled. Taeyong gave him a sheepish smile in return and gestured for him to continue. "My counter stopped just now."
At the mention of stopping, taeyong came to an abrupt stop and took approximately 20 seconds to process what his bestfriend had just told him. Taeil's soulmate mark was different from his, he had a tattoo on his wrist displaying his soulmate's first words to him whilst taeil's was a counter of the number of steps his soulmate was away from him. Once the counter hits 0, it means that his soulmate was right infront of him or touching him. Taeyong, with his mouth was agape, stared at taeil disbelievingly.
"You saw your soulmate?" He whispered. Taeil nervously scratched his nape.
"Well... not exactly," Taeil started but quickly continued before taeyong could say anything. "but i have my suspicions on who it is!"
Taeyong raised an eyebrow.
"You know that kid with orange-ish hair?" Taeil asked.
"The one who's always with that recently-blonde dimpled muscular-looking guy?"
Silence passed between them for a few moments before taeil spoke up again.
"That was pretty specific."
Taeyong shrugged and once again gestured for him to continue on.
"Well.. yeah, i think it's him. Or that guy you just described very specifically."
"Why?"
"Well, i was just minding my own business and walking out of seven eleven like normal when i looked down and saw that my counter was at a zero, so i immediately looked up and the orange haired guy was walking past me and into the store with the recently-blonde dimpled muscular-looking guy following right behind him who was nice enough to recognize me as someone who lives here and gave me a small smile." Taeil made sure to make air quotes at the description that taeyong had made for the other guy.
"So.. what did you do?"
"Nothing."
Taeyong gave an exasperated whimper almost instantly. "What do you mean you did nothing?"
"I mean, i quickly walked, or ran, away before they could realize anything."
His best friend was hopeless, that was one thing he knew with a sure certainty. The urge to facepalm at his antics were enough to drive taeyong crazy, if only a million other things didn't too. He heaved a huge, dramatic sigh and resorted to just shaking his head. He couldn't even imagine letting his soumate go if he just knew who he was... though maybe that wasn't really his choice, since he'd have to consider if his soulmate wanted to stay with him. He couldn't force a person, soulmate or not, to stick with someone with a life like his. Taeil softly pushed him, just enough for him to feel but not stumble, in response but if he had to be honest with himself, he agreed with taeyong.
It wasn't long before they finally reached the lift of their apartment and had to go their seperate ways. They normally walked to and from their school campus together, and it usually took twenty minutes depending on their speed. Taeyong looked down at his watch. Today, they had taken thirty thanks to taeil's story. Taeyong didn't mind though, it's not like it made any difference anyway.
"See you tomorrow." They did their usual goodbye handshake they've had since middle school as taeil walked out of the lift first. He lived two floors below taeyong and just a floor up from his supposed soulmate number one. Number two, the recently-blonde muscular looking guy, lived a floor above taeyong. It's a huge coincidence that they lived in the same aparment building, and that one of them could be taeil's soulmate which meant that taeyong would have to deal with them too.
He secretly hoped that it would not be the latter.
* * * |
db1692351df9425b80a967478d18f5fb | ['7c69ca6c1e3b4beba6c8dddbad52eac6'] | Something About Closets
**Author's Note:**
> Hi sorry please ignore my awful tags
“Get out of my room!” Yuu yelled angrily at the short girl who was crouching down next to his bed.
“Why should I?” She asked, her voice sounding smooth and innocent. “You’ve told me you have nothing to hide, so it doesn’t matter if I look around, right?”
The taller, raven-haired boy fumed. “You should because this is an invasion of my privacy, Shinoa! You don’t like it much when I go through your stuff!”
“That’s because I’m a girl and a lady’s area needs to be respected. And, now that I have a confession, you can view this as payback for all those times you’ve rummaged through my closet,” the purple-haired girl replied calmly. She looked to her “brother” and hid a smile of amusement at his frustration before returning to her search under the boy’s bed.
Yuuichirou struggled for a reply. “You- you can’t take the ‘I’m a girl’ defense after all that social equality you yell about! And besides, I don’t hang out in your freaking closet!”
Shinoa grinned at the other’s choice of words and said, “Well, maybe not my closet, but you’re definitely in the closet.” Yuu blanched before turning red again and crossing his arms. Shinoa grabbed at something touching her hand and pulled it into sight. It was a book.
At this point, Yuu seemed to have regained his ability to speak and said, “Hey, that’s not your business. Besides, it’s not like you have room to talk, I’ve seen the way you are around Mitsu.”
“You walked right into that one, cherry boy. And I’m open about it, which is more than you can say,” she retorted, flipping to a random page in the book she had discovered. She lowered her gaze to a pencil-drawn picture in the- she now realized- art book. Her eyes squinted in examination of the image before widening as she broke out laughing. “Oh my God, Yuu!” she howled. "Is that Mika?!” Yuu turned even redder, if that was possible, and stormed to where the girl was sitting with the intention to pry away the book. She managed to avoid him and looked through more of the pages.
“Give me that!” Yuu shouted. “It’s not yours!” He trapped the girl in an awkward sort of hug from behind, wrestling the book from her strong grip and holding it above his head. Shinoa whipped around and jumped for the object, but he was significantly taller and she realized she couldn’t reach, pouting in disappointment.
“That’s no fair, you know I’m not that tall,” she said half-heartedly, lightly kicking at his feet. Then, her face lit up again as she rushed to the door. “You know what?” she asked. “I’ve actually seen enough of that. Now I can go tell Mika about your obsession with him!” A sadistic grin spread across her cheeks as she ran out of the room.
“Shinoa, wait!” Yuu considered running after her before realizing that it was no use; she had always been faster than him. Instead, he opted to lay down on his bed and sink into his pillows, hoping they could hide him when Mika would undoubtedly come crashing in later. | d72d7e2b55b04b4e8c5240dc1ab27120 | ['7c69ca6c1e3b4beba6c8dddbad52eac6'] | Ever since he moved in, Genos had noticeably calmed down. Whereas before, he would throw caution to the wind during fights and wreck himself, he was now more conscientious of how much strain he was under and how badly an enemy could hurt him and planned his moves accordingly. Before, he had only himself to look after and himself to hurt, but now he felt the need to protect Saitama as well, although he hardly needed it. Also, he knew that his sensei worried whenever he hurt himself; he could see it in his eyes and in the mess he always returned home to after he was repaired. He recognized that over time, Genos had come to see the man not just as a hero, as his role model, but as a person, and he became his best friend because of that. Maybe, even more than that...
The teenager snapped out of his thoughts with his fans heating up as he finished preparing dinner for Saitama and himself, wiping his hands absentmindedly on the pink apron his bald friend had bought him as a joke, but that Genos began to wear habitually. He untied said apron and hung it up, popping into the next room to call a quick, “Sensei, dinner,” before returning to the kitchen and setting two plates across from each other on their table. He sat down in his spot and waited for Saitama to come and sit with him, which he did after only a couple minutes.
“Oh, nikujaga,” Saitama remarked. “It smells good. Thanks, Genos.” Grabbing his chopsticks, Saitama picked up a large bit and shoved it in his mouth, eyes instantly tearing up. “Ah! Hot! Hot” He exclaimed, reaching for a glass of water and chugging it as Genos smiled fondly and shook his head, taking a bite of his own meal.
A few moments of comfortable silence passed before Genos spoke. “Sensei, I have plans to visit Dr. Kuseno tomorrow. I felt I should make you aware of my absence before I head out.”
Saitama looked up to the boy’s face as he filled him in, swallowing before responding, sounding a bit concerned. “Is something wrong?” He asked, eyes scanning Genos’s body for signs of injury and Genos squirmed a little at the scrutinizing gaze.
“No, this is more for...personal reasons,” the younger trailed off, purposely being ambiguous.
“Alright then,” Saitama took unquestioningly, returning to his food.
Genos went to bed that night ready for the next day, a genuine smile sprawled across his cheeks as Saitama’s rhythmic breaths just a foot or two away lulled him into a tranquil rest.
\-------------
A hollow knock at the wooden door signaled a visitor, at which Kuseno was not particularly surprised at. He stood from his cushioned couch and stretched with a grunt escaping his lips before making his way to the front of the house and opening up for whoever was there, which was Genos. A flicker of worry danced across the old man’s features as he did a quick once-over of the boy in front of him, nothing seeming out of place. “Genos? What are you doing here? You don’t appear to be hurt.”
Genos let the man finish before explaining. “Don’t worry, Doctor, I’m unharmed. What I came for is more of an accessory than anything.”
The uneasiness dissipated from Kuseno’s face at Genos’s words, and he grinned with a twinkle in his eye. “Oh, for that sort of thing?” He asked playfully, draping an arm over the boy’s shoulder and pulling him inside. Genos pondered quizzically as Kuseno continued, “Who’s the lucky partner?”
It clicked and Genos would have blushed if he had the ability to. “N-no, not like, not like that,” he stuttered, trying to clear up his intentions. He composed himself before elaborating. “It’s actually more the opposite of that sort of thing.”
\-------------
Approximately an hour later, Genos strode out of Kuseno’s house, waving goodbye with the new black strip around his middle finger reflecting the sun. Examining it more closely, the teen was giddy with the outcome. It looked just like a real ring, and the meaning behind it made him feel proud. As he walked home, he wondered what Saitama would think of him. He had always been a mystery to Genos, from his method of becoming strong to his fixation with sales. Even his feelings for others were shrouded in unanswered - unasked - questions.
Saitama had never expressed outright attraction for anyone, but the anime he watched always had promiscuous girls with large chests. He never tried to egg on the adoration of a rare fan, but he never rejected it either. The man was an enigma.
Coming up on the apartment he had learned to call home, Genos felt more insecure than he had when he left that morning. Walking into the main door and into the hallway, he called out, “Sensei! I am back!”
He heard a “Welcome home, Genos!” from rooms away and followed the sound that lead him to the kitchen, where in a surprising turn of events, Saitama was making lunch for both of them. Saitama heard Genos pad in and continued stirring the food in the pot as he turned his head over his shoulder to acknowledge his disciple. Giving his body a quick inspection as Genos leaned up against the counter next to him, he noticed nothing different on the cyborg and inquired, “Did you get an upgrade at Kuseno’s or did you just stop in to visit?”
Genos nervously toyed with the “ring” out of Saitama’s line of sight. “Yes… I did get one thing,” he replied evasively, not wanting to explain the metal piece quite yet.
“Oh, what was it?” Saitama asked interestedly.
“Um. Don’t- don’t worry about it, Sensei, it won’t affect you at all.” |
e9e2e9129b324ff4b238d84c9d757f75 | ['7c6e0f40ddde4741bda89d8531377d10'] | The girl, who had been on the slab nearly moments before, now stood before her, regarding the terrified Kendra with a curious look. Though she had been dead for nearly three hours, she looked in perfect health. Gone were the scorch marks and abrasions, her eyes had returned to their bright state, and even her cheeks were rosy in hue, a sure sign of her vitality.the sheet that she had been covered in was wrapped around her, and she was shivering, no doubt from the cold.
"Oh, Jesus Christ." whispered Kendra, unable to believe what she saw in front of her. She was dead. There was no pulse when they’d brought her in. She was as dead as the other girls that had wheeled in here for her to look over, to tell them things they already knew about the monster who had ripped the life from so many other girls. She was dead. And yet here she was, standing before her, shivering from the cold, and very much alive.
"I’m cold." she said, following her declaration with a short sneeze and a sniffle.
Her brain finally kicking in, she sprung to her feet and rushed to the supply closet, grabbing a thick, woolen blanket and wrapping it around the girl. She stopped shivering and snuggled into the blanket, a smile crossing her face. “Thankth, misth.” she said, and at the sight of the girl’s innocent face, Kendra felt her heartbeat slow.
"Where are we?" she asked, looking around. "Isth thith a big refrigerator?"
Kendra let out a wry chuckle. The silliness of the question dispelled the last of the darkness in her mind that this was some sort of terrible nightmare. “No, dear, it’s a—” She paused. “—place. For people.” She’d hope the little girl wouldn’t ask too many questions; she didn’t exactly feel like explaining the purpose of a morgue to a dead child.
She nearly burst into laughter at the absurdity of that statement. The irony was too rich.
"Who are you?" asked the little girl, wiping her nose.
"I-I’m Kendra Westfield."
"…Who am I?"
The question didn’t shock Kendra nearly as much as the answer: she didn’t know. The girls were never found with any form of identification on them, and tracking down the parents took days, just long enough for a new victim to appear.
"Um…" Kendra searched her brain for a name, any kind of name. "Jenny. Your name’s Jenny."
The newly-dubbed Jenny stared up at Kendra, brown eyes sparkling. “Are you my mommy?”
Kendra stared back at Jenny for what seemed like ages. Were you to ask her to this day what had caused her to make such a life-changing decision, she couldn’t provide a suitable answer, save that it just felt like the right thing to do.
"Yes." Kendra spoke, hugging Jenny close to her chest. Though she couldn’t feel the child’s heartbeat, she felt warm all the same, and smiled as she felt Jenny’s arms wrap around her waist. "I’m your mommy." As Kendra patted the girl’s hair, she noticed something in the part between the reddish-brown locks.
Two backslashes.
**END**
4. Mi Parabla
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Your back is the one thing I will always have.
Michael Dunbartin looked out the window of his penthouse in disdain. It seemed almost ironic, hilariously so, that he should live here, in this monument to the gods, this symbol of wealth, power, and influence, only to have to constantly overlook the squalor beneath him.
Derelict buildings and vagrants stood in the shadows of this architectural behemoth, their blacks and browns mixing with dull grey to form a river of filth, as if to insult the gleaming gold and marble of his dwelling.
"Disgusting." he spat, wrinkling his nose as if the very smell of the city’s dregs had risen up to assault him personally, bushy grey mustache wrinkling. Michael was a man who believed in three things; himself, money, and the power it held over others.
A man of wealth and taste, fortune had come unto him from many years of clawing his way to the top in the stock market; he had worked hard, and had accrued more than untold millions, but a name for himself in this city. His was a name to be feared, respected, revered, and before him, there were but two choices; submit, or become another of the city’s unmentionables, destined for a life beneath their superiors.
His very appearance was one that exuded dominance. At 5’9”, he wasn’t tall, and his rotund, stocky figure didn’t instill fear, but he still managed to radiate an aura that seemed to reach the heavens itself. His suits, often so crisp and sharp they looked as though they could slice diamond, were more status symbol than clothing, their immaculate thread count both comforting for him and humbling for all who dared gaze. His shoes were always polished until they were gleaming, grey-black hair slicked back, and fingers decked with no less than several hundred grand worth of jewels at a time. Were Plutus alive in this age, next to Michael Dunbartin, he would appear a pauper.
Deciding he could take no more of the sight, he strode to his desk, pulling out a box of expensive Cuban cigars, along with a bottle of Duggenfield, his preferred brand of bourbon. The cigars were three grand a box, if they could be found at all, and the liquor at two grand, and worth every penny. Cutting the cigar and pouring a glass, he flicked on the television, preparing to settle into his evening routine, when what he saw caught his eye.
"We come to you live from downtown Voit," spoke the pretty brunette frantically, as though she had been in the center of whatever incident had occurred. "Where yet another case of arson has been discovered. The victim, Tyler Daily, was found dead in his home…" | 485b3f2a864c4c50aeaa199f74cf1ab2 | ['7c6e0f40ddde4741bda89d8531377d10'] | "I'll say." plucking the envelope off the table, she ripped it open, and unfolded the letter within.
"'Dear, Ice Lady..." Mei puffed out her cheeks in annoyance. "Nǐ shì rènzhēn de ma...he can't even pretend to remember my name?" Shaking her head, she continued reading. "'Saw you were pretty banged up 'bout that trinket 'o yers, so I went ahead and fixed it. Try to be more careful with it, yeah? This was a bitch to put back together. And since I'm such a sweet guy, I won't even charge you for it. 'Cept maybe a peck on the cheek, if yer offering! Cheers, Junkrat.'"
Mei huffed as she set aside the letter. "That uncouth ruffian. He's so...so..."
She shouldn't help the smile that slowly crept onto her face.
-/-/-/-/-
"Junkrat!" Said Australian nearly jumped out of his seat at the sound of Mei yelling for him.
"Wot I do!?" he replied as Mei began stomping over to him. He figured she was mad over something he'd done recently, but for the life of him, he couldn't come up with anything. He readied himself for another of her famous lectures, when--
A pair of soft, plump lips pressed against his cheek, pulling away just as he realized what the hell just happened. Pink bloomed on his face, and his jaw dropped as he took in the sight of a smiling Mei. "Thank you." she said, turning on her heel and sauntering away as though nothing happened.
And as her back turned, he saw the newly-fixed pin in her hair, and, if possible, it was shining even brighter.
**END**
**Author's Note:**
> Zhè bù kěnéng fāshēng = this cannot be happening
>
> Báichī = idiot/moron
>
> Nǐ shì rènzhēn de ma = are you serious |
11125f66883d48f39b17ff40f69d0c64 | ['7c9ecf555e404df281b7fdc89289cecb'] | ______The sleepless nights are still a thing. The panic attacks still come with frightening frequency. He gasps and shudders his way through them , silently -- or as silently as he can--in his room, praying he doesn't wake his father, thankful he no longer wakes up screaming at least.One night he has an especially bad episode. He lies gasping in his bed, trying to be as quiet as possible.Blackness creeps at the edges of his vision as his heartbeat slows, the adrenaline crash tiring him out as it always does, when he feels a warm pair of arms slide round him. His heart rate makes a weak attempt to go up a notch, then gives up and calls it a day. There are only so many times he can panic in one night and right now he is too exhausted to care. Besides these arms don't feel foreign. He feels warm and safe in them as he drifts off. The last thing he registers before drifting off , is a large warm hand rubbing soothing circles on his back.He finds himself curling into it helplessly , almost against his will, desperate for contact. His breathing slows further and he decides to deal with this later , because he doesn't have the energy now._ _ _ _ _ _
______ _ _ _ _
______"Let go, Stiles, " he hears a whisper."Just let go and rest , it's okay, it's all right. "_ _ _ _ _ _
______ _ _ _ _
______He thinks of giving this creeper a piece of his mind indignantly (he is not a _child _, thank you very much ) but he can't seem to muster the energy.He is still thinking of telling him off hazily, when he falls asleep.___ _ _ _ _ _
3. Chapter 3
He wants to get better. He knows he does. Theoretically. It’s just that he likes the swimmy feeling in his head when he stands up too quickly and the empty feeling in his stomach too much to give up not eating just yet. It’s just so wonderful to feel thin. To feel the concave hollows in his belly and in between his ribs. The secret dips in his hips and his collar bone. The truth is, he doesn’t need to eat so much anyway. Noone likes a fat , guzzling pig, no matter what people said. Wasn’t it a good thing , that he took up as little space as possible? The less he ate, the more there would be left for other people. The less money his dad had to spend, the better, right? The less time and energy and space he took up ( _wasted _) , the better, right? _Right _?____
He never wants to be fat again. ( And he was, he _was _, no matter what people said) . He always takes up too much space. He takes up too much everything. He is a drain on everybody else’s time and energy and he doesn’t want to be. He wants to be useful. He wants to be necessary. That is how things should be. He learned that, long ago, when his mother had first started showing the signs of the illness that would eventually take her away, when she began to tire more quickly, had less time, less patience for his non- stop chatter, his tendency to get into trouble constantly. He never meant to, but somehow he always did the wrong thing. He got underfoot constantly. He was always in the way, taking up energy she had little enough to spare in any case. The harder he tried, the worse she got, and it was almost like he made her sicker, just by being around. Almost like he killed her.
It is a game, seeing how long he can go without food. He can go longer now, than he had thought possible. He almost never feels hungry anymore. The gnawing in his belly as he lies awake at night is testimony of his strength. It’s a reward, not a punishment. It’s incredible, how long he can run on water and crackers and a little diet coke now and then. The headaches and constant, aching fatigue are a small price to pay. It’s worth it. He can do this . He has to. He can eat just the bare minimum to keep himself alive , all the while, decreasing the portions he ate, so he needs less and less. People can get used to anything, right? He can get used to this. He _is _used to this. The smell of food makes feel sick, these days. At times, literally. Those times are becoming more and more frequent, he notices, muzzily. All those calories, piling up. The thought of it makes him want to hurl. Which is a good thing, he thinks dizzily, kneeling on aching knees over the toilet bowl, heaving, emptying the meagre contents of his belly.__
He blinks away the dizziness, as he runs laps round the field, Finstock shouting at them. The black spots floating in front of him are just a minor deterrent. He is stronger than this, than the demands of his weak body. He is running almost entirely on fumes and stomach acid now. He has been, for days, now . He feels like he is flying, sweat and rain running down his face, legs burning, heart thundering away. His lungs expand hugely and tremble on every exhale , his ribs straining at the thin papery skin. It’s hard to breathe for some reason – he is drawing in maybe half a breath with every inhale. He gasps, swallowing water and tasting salt. He doesn’t know where his teammates are anymore. It doesn’t seem very important, as he can hardly see anyway. It’s getting harder to think, heart fluttering in his chest frantically, like a dying bird. The spots in front of his eyes widen, become brighter, as they swallow up his vision. Finally he stops thinking of anything at all, as the ground rises up to meet him.__
**Author's Note:**
> LINK | a3fb760d18fc4b24b2dd9d2986a203e2 | ['7c9ecf555e404df281b7fdc89289cecb'] |
The Trials of Thor, Prince of Asgard
1\. Thor is 2 and has just discovered the world outside his nursery is a vast and exciting place. Every day he finds something new. One day, he returns to find Frigga cooing over a tiny baby. Odin seems wary, as if he is afraid Thor may be jealous. He needn't have worried. Thor is fascinated. He gazes at Loki's tiny toes silently and thinks he's never seen anything so small. From that day onwards, it's hard to tear the older prince away from the baby for long.
2\. Loki is 8 and Thor is 10. Already, Thor being older and more outgoing, has ~~a solid fan club~~ shield brothers ( and sisters ) . Loki tags along and tries to join in. One time, Fandral makes him cry. They laugh at him. Thor laughs along, a little embarrassed, not wanting to seem soft in front of his new friends. Loki stands there, his ears reddening, too proud to cry but his lower lip is trembling and Thor wants to make it better, but he has just met Fandral and Volstagg and Sif and why does Loki have to be so _sensitive_? If only he made more of an effort -
3\. Loki is 13 and Thor is 15. Loki chooses to spend his days in the library, Thor in the battlefield. The difference between the brothers is painfully apparent yet they still remain close. Loki accompanies Thor on many of his adventures and indeed, instigates many himself.
4\. Loki is 17 and Thor, 19. It's the day of his coronation. He is excited, yet a thread of faint unease runs alongside his anticipation - Loki has been acting strange of late - well, stranger than usual - and won't tell him why. He soon forgets though and if Loki slips away unheeded midway through the festivities, most do not notice and none comment on it. Loki does not have many friends. Shield companions yes, and those eager to further their social standing by winning Loki's favour but that is all. Sometimes Thor is frustrated. If only Loki would be less – less _himself,_ perhaps he'd have more friends. He is called Silvertongue, yet he seldom uses it to win over others and seems to prefer to needle them with barbed words instead. Thor's head jerks up. Someone calls him. He is ushered out.
5\. Later, the same day, Jotnar break into the royal palace and try to steal the Casket. They die in the attempt, their burnt blue corpses proof of their treachery. It _is_ treachery, isn't it ? A voice in the back of his head whispers, if the Casket belonged to them in the first place, is it really so wrong to try to take it back ? He shakes off his doubts quickly. Doubt is for the weak. Besides, the Jotnar are monsters. Everyone knows that. He catches his brother's eye across the hall. Loki looks like Thor feels - faintly sick. Thor looks away.
6\. Thor is on the Bifrost, on his way to Jotunheim. Loki tries to stop him, to no avail. But that is Loki all over. He thinks too much. Loki tries to persuade Heimdell to let them pass and fails. Volstagg mocks him. Thor thinks he sees Loki flinch but then Loki's face is smooth again and Thor is sure he imagined it. Easy banter among friends - nothing to worry about, surely.
7\. Laufey is lounging lazily in his throne, in the midst of this strange world of ice and snow and he has just insulted Thor. He, Thor, is Prince of Asgard and this – this _beast_ has dared to insult _him_. He must be reminded of his place, his _true_ significance in the grand order of things and Loki is whispering in his ear, advising caution, but that is for Thor to decide and Thor alone and Loki must be reminded of his place too. _Know your place, brother_. Loki falls silent and Thor pretends it doesn't bother him. Besides there's no time. They are in the midst of battle.
8\. Thor is fighting desperately, felling dozens of enemies at a time, and his friends are holding their own too, but more Jotnar are joining the battle. Out of the corner of his eye, Thor sees Loki fighting alongside him, taking down almost as many Jotnar as he is. One of them grabs his arm. Thor thinks he sees a flash of blue but when he looks again, Loki is as pale as ever, breathing hard and looking vaguely nauseated. The Jotun is lying dead at his feet, stabbed through the heart. The Jotnar keep coming and Thor knows it is too much, there are too many, so he does what he should have done at the beginning ( stupid, _stupid_ ) and calls Heimdell.
9\. Odin is furious, and Thor, dimly aware that Odin has every right to be angry, still roars back at him. It is not in his nature to back down. In his peripheral vision, Loki looks pale and pinched and like he is barely holding it together and Thor thinks absently that that's strange, they have risked their lives many times during their adventures together and none of them fazed his little brother usually. But then Odin is shouting again and Thor is distracted.
10\. Thor is hanging from the edge of the Bifrost and Loki is hanging on to Gungnir. His mind is awhirl, he doesn't understand, _why,_ why would Loki lie about so many things, about Odin, what could he have done differently ? Loki loved him, didn't he ? ( _" Sometimes I am envious, but never doubt that I love you. "_ ) But soon it doesn't matter, none of it matters, because Loki lets go and a part of Thor goes with him.
11\. The Tesseract has been stolen and Thor is working with his Midgardian friends now but there are rumours that Loki has been sighted on Earth, and Thor can hardly contain himself. If this is true, if he is alive - but he needs proof.
12\. 80 people dead in three days. He certainly has proof now. A part of him guiltily remembers doing something similar in Jotunheim and all that over a petty insult. His friends on Midgard do not know and he will not tell them. He needs their help to get his brother back.
13\. He finds Loki but Loki looks different, hollowed out, exhausted, hair longer and unkempt. His eyes burn brightly, too brightly in his pale face, like holes burned in a sheet. Loki tells him that he has seen worlds that Thor never knew about, he has grown in his exile - he is pared down to almost nothing, Thor notices with a pang, cheekbones jutting out like knives, papery skin stretched tightly over his skull.
14\. They win. The Avengers win and Loki is in chains and muzzled like an animal, but what choice does he have, Thor doesn't have a choice, doesn't he _understand_ , there was no other way to stop him. In any case, Loki doesn't look like he cares. His apathy scares Thor in a way his viciousness never has. Loki puts his hands in Thor's, dull and almost docile and Thor tries not to blanch. He'll fix this. He has to fix this. Everything will be fine and he'll get his brother back, the one he knew, not this scarred, haunted shadow of the man he knew and loved, alternately apathetic and vengeful. Thor can do this. He _knows_ he can. |
b832b04b46dd46969da5c9670cb0a9df | ['7cafc2a1b8994ef88e9f329cf48683f6'] | She giggled, and continued, "Perhaps I can make some... modifications to Genji's armor."
"... Modifications?" Genji and Jack asked together.
"How would you like to switch between a fin and legs whenever you pleased, little Shimada?"
\--
"WELP, he's left me to die."
Jesse, with his arms behind his head, his legs crossed, and his shirt tossed to the side, had struck up a conversation with a seagull munching on whatever it could find laying around.
"My life wasn't allllll shit, ya know, can't complain--"
"SQWUAK--"
"Good times, bad times, I've had my share, and hey, I've still got ol' Bessie and Gloria--that's my hat and m'pistol--"
"SQWUAK--"
"Ya know, you're a good listener, partner, hell, I told ya about some weird shit, like when I stuck Gloria up--"
"Human! Uh, Jesse!" Genji popped up to the surface and waved. Jesse squinted.
"Am I hallucinatin'?"
He had to have been. When the cyborg approached the shore-line, he rose... upright... and walked towards Jesse, picking him up. A final 'SQWUAK' and a 'You do not look so good' slushed about in Jesse's head before he passed out. Again. | 3fca563ee3294ac3818d99c838a8d941 | ['7cafc2a1b8994ef88e9f329cf48683f6'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> This is a very short piece inspired by a fanart by 5x4th on Tumblr. In it was McCree drifting in the ocean, while a cyborg-merman approached. I'm wondering if I should turn this into a fic or not? Perhaps, if I see interest, I might! :3c
What was a cowboy doin’ out at sea? That’s a mighty fine question.
Jesse was never one for boats; trains, sure, wagons, absolutely, but ships? Gettin’ caught out in the middle of the ocean, waiting for mother nature to claim you in a slow and painful death, didn’t sound like a bright idea.
Waves lapped against the side of the wooden vessel in a way that made Jesse’s insides bounce. The crew wailed and slapped their legs as they watched him wrap around a mast for dear life, his eyes squeezed shut. Lord almighty, this wasn’t what he signed up for, and yet here he was; he shouldn’t have trusted that shady, good-for-nothin’ old man tellin’ him this and that about some gold-infested island.
His true motivation was the rumor that there were still inhabitants on that island. Inhabitants of… unique natures. Whenever he felt well enough to wander the main deck, he tried asking the crew questions, their replies nothing more than, “Move along!” or, “‘Aint believe in that bullshit.’”
Perhaps they should have.
Rumbles and massive pulls to the left, to the right, swung him and the crew around the deck like ragdolls. Once his head hit a board, the world went blurry, and he couldn’t remember how he arrived underwater. Pressure pinched his body, force flung him, down, down, oh goddam, his hat would get lost…
Something cold cupped his face and lime-green light lit up his foggy vision; his legs were wrapped up by that same mettalic, icy sensation. He gasped. A mask covered his face, his eyes popping open wide. Breathing had never been so easy, but how? The creature before him ran its fingers through Jesse’s floating locks, its face human, the rest of it… armored and hard. Jesse couldn’t help himself from reaching out, too, the armor obviously metal but surprisingly smooth, the divets where green light emitted were warm and whirling. With a deep breath, he looked down and realized the creature’s… tail was what wrapped his legs, and before he could look back up, immensely strong arms snaked around his chest.
They took off at a speed that made Jesse faint, and he decided, for sure, cowboys should never be out at sea. (Genji didn’t forget to grab his hat).
2. What In The Hell?
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I did it, it's started! Oh gosh, thanks to everyone who enjoyed the ficlet and encouraged me to keep going!! I hope the fic becomes just as enjoyable. <3
Remember the scene in that old timey cartoon, The Little Mermaid, where Prince Eric gazed up to see a stunning face framed by flaming red locks, illuminated by a brilliant afternoon sun?
This was nothing like that. Jesse McCree sure as hell wasn't a prince. The sun wasn't brilliant when it was blinding his eyes, and the face above him wasn't exactly that of a disney princess'. Scarred, shrouded in metal plates, and sharp were its features, still human but the rest of it... the rest of it laid across the sand...
Jesse whipped out his pistol and scrambled away from the arms at either side of his head.
"Where in God's green earth am I--What the hell are you?!" Nausea claimed him before he could make any more movements, the scolding sand suddenly more comfortable than it was before. He plopped down, coughed up some water, and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to get ahold of himself and his surroundings.
This had to be the island old man Reyes was on about.
With a shaky hand, he pointed his pistol up at the creature's shark-like fin. It flopped up and down every few seconds and Jesse couldn't help but chuckle.
"Shit's wild, I reckon--"
"I mean you no harm."
Jesse stayed still, not quite out of shock. Mostly out of concentration.
"Oh, yeah? S'that right?"
Genji giggled. "Not much I can do on land, silly human."
Jesse let his pistol fall into his lap out of exhaustion and looked around like 'did anyone else hear that.' "Did you just call me... silly human?"
Genji placed a hand on his chest while supporting himself with his other arm. "My name is Genji." He bowed his upper-torso ever so slightly. "You are lost."
Jesse sighed. "Yup, that's my name, Lost McCree. Wouldn't know where to find his hat even if it was on his hea--" He gasped, pulling on his hair, "my hAT."
Genji laughed again. From behind his tail he revealed Jesse's beloved, and placed it on his own head. Jesse groaned.
"Alright, alright, give it up--" It took some force, and stability he didn't currently have, but Jesse hoisted himself up and hobbled his way over to stand above Genji. He snatched his hat and adjusted it on his head.
Now that he was closer, he could see the intricacies of the armor's design; defined muscle trapped between circles and cylinders of glowing green, sharp angles that moved with deceptive flexibility. How oddly alluring, almost elegant the creature--Genji was, Jesse was nearly too distracted to hear what he said next.
"This island has not seen a human in some time. I suggest I swim you back to where you are safe--"
"Now, hold up," Jesse interrupted, "I dunno about you, but I don't get scooped up by a cyborg-shark every day--"
"I am an omniquatic." Genji interrupted as well, catching Jesse off-guard.
"A who-ja-mah-what-it?"
"An aquatic omnic, surely you have heard of omnics." |
12205e89c82f440a936b52b1c70ea38c | ['7ccf929145c54f91b6b181b5733ff803'] | After taking a short rest from running Tallulah held onto arbor under a tree, "Hows your knees feeling?" she asked, "Fine...I just hope dad doesn't make me kneel on those weird shard things again.", "He wont as long as we keep going.". And so they went. Tallulah forced her brother and herself to keep walking until they reached the edge of the woods, then she made a small twig hut with pine needle bedding. She layed arbor down. "Tall, I-I'm cold..." Arbor said, shivering. "Ok let me grab you those hand warmers...", Tallulah reached into her bag and started warming up the small cloth bag in her hands, then passing it to Arbor. "We have to conserve them. You sleep, i'll keep watch. "Ok...G'night Tall...I love you.", "I love you too Arbor.".
Tall woke up, she slowly rose out of her position and looked at her watch. 5:30 AM. She got up and started to get ready, combing her hair and freshening up in general. She thought about her dream, she had those type of dreams frequently. It was always painful to think back on those days, but they were over now. She had to get over it and move on.
3. Shadow
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Kori and Tallulah go to work!
When Kori came to she was in bed, in her pajamas. She doesn't even remember getting dressed for bed….Or even arriving home…”Oh god no…”, She sighed and curled up, remembering the events of last night. The blueprints, the two guards, the kidnapping, the...The body. Kori whimpered as tears began to stream, how a man can bleed out so quickly. How people really were just _fragile_ …
“I see your awake.”, Kori jolted up in a panic. “I didn't expect you to have such….Cutesy pajamas.”, Kori blushed and pulled the blanket up to cover herself. She was in her fox printed shorts and a dark blue dolphin patterned button up. “When did i..?”, “Oh no don’t worry, i dressed you so you could get more sleep.”, “Um..I-, Thanks i guess?” was all Kori could muster. She didn't know what to think of this woman standing by her bed. “We have to leave soon. I’ll pack your essentials so you get ready for work.”, “Wait why do i need my ‘essentials’ ?”. This was getting too weird for Kori, “Because your going to share an apartment building with Plum from now on.”.
**_What._ **
Work was dreadful, and yet the most peaceful thing for Kori in the past 24 hours. She felt somewhat normal but having a woman follow her around was strange. Especially since Kori is the office’s secretary. Kori finally got some alone time when Tallulah went to get some coffee.
“Uhm Kori…”, her co-worker called over. She was a petite woman with brown hair cut in a pixie cut style. She rolled her chair over to her co-worker with a smile, “Yes Ms.Lang, what do you need?”, “Is everything ok? Why is that strange woman here, and you look exhausted!” she said in a hushed tone. Kori looked at her, somewhat shocked that she noticed her state, and mostly wondering on how the _fuck_ she was going to explain. “Well you see she’s my...um, she’s my new intern assistant! Sorry for the trouble if she caused any she’s just so new, and i'm not sure what kind of work to give her!”.
Ms. Lang relaxed, “Oh no she’s been no trouble at all, geez i can’t believe boss didn’t introduce her to the rest of the faculty.”, “Oh that’s because she’s shy! Said to not make it a big deal or anything. I was only told last night so i ended up staying up trying to think of how to make a good impression, but to no avail.”, Kori chuckled and Ms.Lang nodded in understanding.
The two woman talked for a few more minutes, then they heard a crash and screech from the break room.
“I can’t believe you did that.” Kori said, head in her hands. “That man was being highly inappropriate in the workplace, I did what was needed.”. Kori stood up and leaned over the table and into Tallulah’s face, “BY BREAKING HIS WRIST?!”.
It was just a simple task. Get coffee, go back to Kori. That old sleaze ball really got on Tallulah’s nerves though. He was like a hyena, howling and wheezing at his own jokes as he trapped his prey, a younger girl with curly black hair. He was commenting about how he and the girl should go get drinks and see some movie, she kept ignoring him and was trying to leave when he put his hands around her, pinning this now scared girl against the counter, and the worst part, _he spilled Tallulah’s coffee_. She would’ve just report it and get him fired through her superiors, but after that, she just grabbed his arms and slammed him against the wall, with such force that she ~~fortunately~~ broke his wrist. | 4aa0d7b24f7f456c9c6f629b8fb9ff47 | ['7ccf929145c54f91b6b181b5733ff803'] | As they walked down the street, Kori felt off. Maybe it was because it was very late and she was tired, maybe it was because of all the information that was dumped on her. Who knows. But all she knew was that something didn’t feel right. “What’s keeping you?” Tallulah said, looking over her shoulder briefly, “We have to hurry if you want to make it to work on time tomorr-” , when Tallulah looked back to Kori, she was gone
2. How should i feel then?
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Kori gets nabbed.
Kori struggled as the man dragged her away, tears stinging her eyes as the grip on her neck tightened. “Last warning-!” The man said in a hushed angry voice. He tossed her down and quickly stuck a rag in her mouth. She gagged and went to punch him, but he was quicker, stronger. he tied her hands behind her back and was about to bind her legs, but she kicked his jaw when he went lower, he recoiled and glared at her, baring his teeth in rage. “YOU LITTLE BITCH!”, He grabbed her by her throat and slammed Kori’s head to the ground, he leaned in, “Wait till the boss gets a load of you, he-GAH!” before the crook could go further with his sentence, a shot rang out in the back alley.
“You really went far in the few seconds i didn’t look.”, Tallulah walked forward. The man’s shoulder was bleeding, he weakly stood up and looked towards Tallulah, “GET BACK!”, He pulled out a gun from his coat pocket. Tallulah walked towards him, she shot his arm without hesitation and continued onward, She began to untie Kori. Kori gasped when the rag was removed, enjoying being able to breathe again, “T-Tallulah!”, She yelled out. Tallulah examined her, “You don't seem hurt, but your throat may bruise.”. Just then the man yanked Tallulah's hair back, “Y-You-!” He pathetically mustered out. Tallulah just simply yanked his hand away, took a knee, and then took his arm just to snap it over her knee. He screamed in pain, she did it so hard that his bone protruded from outside his jacket. “Let’s be off.” Tallulah said bringing Kori with her towards the Alley exit. Kori’s knees buckled when she stood, she began to sob. She was shaking like a leaf. “Don't cry, it’ll just make things harder.” Tallulah said coldly, “THEN HOW SHOULD I REACT?! I WAS KIDNAPPED, A-AND YOU JUST- YOU SNAPPED HIS ARM LIKE A TWIG!” She ripped away from Tallulah’s grip, “Just...Who are you?!”. “Your guard. Now stop crying, its over. You're saved and the man is-”, “He’s BLEEDING OUT!”. Kori shoved Tallulah and went to run but Tallulah was faster. She grabbed Kori and held her against herself. “Kori. Enough with the theatrics. We’re heading to your apartment now.”, As Kori struggled she saw the man was now unmoving. She didn't even hear a single raspy breath. “T-Tallulah...You...You killed him..!” She began to struggle and cry more against Tallulah. She wanted to run away, scream and just hide to pretend that what just happened was all a bad dream. Tallulah sighed and hugged Kori tightly, patting her head, she wasn’t ever very good at comforting people. She tried her best though, “You’re so delicate…”. Kori struggled against Tallulah's grip but slowly she gave into the hug and just sobbed into her chest. After a minute or two of that Tallulah scooped Kori up, as if she weighed nothing more than a feather. “ You remind me of my brother. Arbor used to cry like this after training.”, Tallulah began to walk towards the direction of Kori’s home, as Kori began to drift to sleep.
This was a fucking awful day.
\-----
bonus: Tallulah POV
The apartment was a mess, sorta like how the owner was earlier. Tallulah set her down on her bed after locating where her room was, she slipped the heels off of her feet, then her skirt and blouse. "Now where are your pajamas..." Tallulah muttered as she searched through the dresser. It was full of colorful and frankly childish clothes. How many animal print pajamas can one grown woman have? After giving up on finding a more mature looking clothes, she decided to just grab a random pair of shorts and a button up. She sat Kori up carefully and began to dress her for bed, when suddenly she felt a pair of arms hug her. Tallulah looked to see if Kori was awake but she wasn't, she was just holding onto her in her sleep, looking peaceful as if nothing had happened. Tallulah shook her head to shake herself out of her thoughts, she continued dressing her then she tucked her in bed. She stayed up, ignoring what her brother told her earlier. She tidied up the place and then stood watch inside Kori's room, she sat at the edge of the bed hands folded on her lap. She began to drift off, even when she fought against it. Tallulah decided to lay herself down and sleep for just a second...
"Arbor we have to hurry,", Tallulah tugged a thick wool jacket around Arbors small frame. father is with his partners and won't be having the guards around tonight, this is our only chance.", "But won't dad be mad if we leave? What if he-" Tallulah shushed him and held his face in her small hands. "Don't worry about that now, we need to go now ok?" She slipped some mittens into him and finally a hat. "Now lets go...", She tugged him along through the back door and began to run with him. |
580dff4956ef4310a409617e35e1fd93 | ['7cd80b3bb8e44caf9e834e005e20b770'] | After they watched Melissa leave, Derek scooped Stiles into his arms and carried him to his bedroom. He gently placed Stiles on his bed and pulled the covers over his body. He kissed Stiles's forehead gently before heading out of the room and back into the living room. When he came back, Scott was sitting on the couch while Isaac was kneeling on the floor with his head on Scott's lap and Scott's fingers running through his hair.
"You did so good today Isaac. I know that you were feeling off today but you pushed that aside so you can help Stiles. You did so good baby."
Isaac smiled and closed his eyes as he nuzzled his face into Scott's leg. Derek walked over and placed a hand on the back of Isaac's neck.
"You did good Isaac."
Isaac hummed in appreciation. Derek nodded at Scott and then headed towards the kitchen. He knew that when Stiles woke up, the omega sub was going to have to eat something. However he couldn't give him any solid foods just yet because of how swollen his neck was. So he grabbed ingredients for a smoothie and started to make it. When he was done making it he realized he made more than enough for Stiles so he poured some into three glasses. He then walked out and saw that only Scott was in the living room.
"Did Isaac go under?" Derek asked as he handed a glass to Scott.
"Yeah. He had a rough day today. I placed him in one of the guest rooms. I hope that's okay."
Derek nodded and ruffled Scotts hair. "That's more than okay pup. I was actually wanting to talk to you about something. Stiles is going to need all the support and love he can get so I was wondering if you and Isaac wanted to stay here. There's more than enough rooms and I doubt Erica and Boyd would mind. If not I totally understand."
Scott grinned. "I'll have to check in with my mom but that should be okay. She'll probably feel better if we were with Stiles too."
"Great. Now I have to go put the smoothies in the fridge so I'll be right back."
\----------------------------------
It was an hour later and Scott and Derek were watching some kind of movie that Derek wasn't really paying attention too. His mind was on the sweet boy in his bed. He hated that so many people had put him through so much torture. It wasn't fair. His wolf was howling, wanting to rip out the throats of everyone who had hurt his mate. However his thoughts were interrupted when the door bell rang.
Derek groaned and got up from his seat. Scott looked over and watched as Derek walked over to the door and opened it. Standing in the door way was no other than Derek's uncle. Peter Hale. Derek squinted an eye at Peter and crossed his arms in front of him.
"What do you want Peter?"
Peter smiled. "I just wanted to say hello to my nephew. Is that so bad? Now are you going to let me in or..."
"You never drop by just to say hello." Derek replied not moving from the door way.
"You're right. But this time I did. I just thought that we never get the chance to see each other. We're family Derek. Come on."
Derek huffed and moved to the side. "I don't know what you're playing at uncle but sure. Come on in."
Peter grinned once more and made his way inside. He smiled at Scott and sat down on the opposite side of the couch. When Derek sat down, neither Scott or Derek noticed when Peter sniffed the air.
"So Derek, rumor is you got your self a sub. Not just any sub but an Omega Sub. How did you manage that? Those are very rare."
Derek growled. "I knew you were up to something. How did you hear about that?"
"Like I said. There's a rumor going around. When do I get to meet your little omega?"
Before Derek could answer, he heard Stiles was waking up. He sighed and stood up from the couch and looked over at Scott. Scott understanding to not let Peter into the room or to follow Derek nodded. Derek nodded back in thanks and headed towards his bedroom. Before he did that he went into the kitchen and got out the smoothie he made for Stiles and then headed towards the bedroom. When he got there he opened the door and closed it behind him. He then walked over to Stiles and sat down next to him on the bed.
"Hey sweetheart."
Stiles blinked open his eyes and gave a shy wave.
"You need to eat something so I made you a smoothie. It's probably going to hurt but baby I need you to drink this and this is the closest thing of food you can get. Can you drink it all for me? You can take your time."
Stiles nodded and grabbed the glass. He slowly held it to his lips and started to drink. He winced when it went down his swollen throat. It hurt like hell. Derek placed a hand on the back of Stiles's neck and started to take away some of the pain. Fifteen minutes later the glass was empty.
"Good job. I'm so proud of you."
Stiles smiled and handed him back the glass.
"Stiles, do you think you can try to talk for me? Just one simple word."
Stiles looked at Derek with confusion and hurt in his eyes. Why was Derek wanting him to talk? He was going to get in trouble. It's what happened when he tried to talk at the pound. Stiles shook his head and backed up from Derek.
"Hey, Hey, no Stiles. Shh. I'm sorry. I just wanted to see if you could talk." | 40174bcb2c30445f9aa7921b4e936559 | ['7cd80b3bb8e44caf9e834e005e20b770'] | "Okay.Here's the ointment and I'm also giving you medicine to help him sleep at night. He never could really fall asleep and no doubt he will have more trouble falling asleep now. I also doubt they were giving him adderall. He needs it for his Adhd. I'm pretty positive it's gotten worse and will stay that way for a while. Make sure you give him two of those pills every night okay?"
"Of course. He will get everything he needs Melissa. I will take care of him, don't worry."
Melissa smiled. "I can't help but worry with that one. Scott too. They were always the two trouble makers. Now I think it's time to see if we can cut that collar off and see if his neck is infected or not."
\--------------
When they walked into the living room, Derek knew that something was wrong right away. Stiles and Scott were both missing from the living room and when Derek listened, he could tell that they were in the kitchen. Except that there were three heart beats and one of them was going crazy. Derek knew that was Stiles's heatbeat. Derek ran into the kitchen to see Stiles under the kitchen table curled into a ball with his eyes squeezed shut. Scott and Isaac were crouched down trying to talk to Stiles.
"Move!" Derek growled as he flashed his eyes.
Scott moved back and Isaac did too with a quiet whimper. Derek glared at the two of them before crouching down and crawling under the table.
"Stiles baby. You're okay. It's Derek. You're safe honey. Can you open your eyes for me?"
Stiles shook his head as he hugged himself tighter. Derek cursed in his head. He was dropping.
"Stiles, I need you to open your eyes for me. Can you do that? Can you be a good boy and open them. Nothing is going to hurt you. I'm here baby. It's okay."
Stiles slowly opened his eyes as tears ran down his face. When he saw Derek he slowly reached out his hand and Derek immediately grabbed on to it.
"Good boy. You're such a good boy Stiles. Do you think you can get out from under here or would you like me to help you honey?"
Stiles looked over Derek's shoulder and his eyes widened in fear once more. Scott and Isaac were standing behind him. It wasn't Scott who Stiles was afraid of, it was Isaac. He was a stranger and Stiles hated strangers. He used to love meeting new people but the thought of it made him sick to his stomach and afraid. Stiles looked back at Derek and closed his eyes once more as he pointed to the dom.
Derek nodded and slowly got up from under the table while taking Stiles with him. Once they were both out, Stiles had his legs wrapped around Derek's waist and his arms around his neck. Stiles looked at Isaac once more before hiding his face in Derek's shoulder. Derek now understood.
"Scott, what is Isaac doing here?" Derek hissed.
"He was feeling bad today Derek. He's my sub. I can't just not take care of him."
"And you didn't think to go to his place? Scott what the fuck is wrong with you? Bringing someone Stiles has never met before is going to set him off. Do you really think Stiles is up for meeting new people? After everything he's been through?"
Scott whined and bowed his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't think. I'm sorry. I just...I'm new to being a dom for someone. I don't know what I'm doing."
Derek sighed and ran a hand through his hair while holding Stiles up with his other arm. "I know Scott. I get it. I do. But you need to think things more through okay? And don't worry so much. You're a great dom. Isaac loves you and you are so great with him. But please for the love of god don't bring anyone else over here until Stiles is ready okay? Stiles needs to feel safe."
Scott nodded and walked over, gently placing a hand on Stiles's back. At first Stiles flinched but when he turned his head to see who it was, he calmed down.
"I'm so sorry buddy. I wasn't thinking. I am so sorry." Scott whispered.
Stiles looked Scott right in the eye and nodded. He was letting Scott know that it was okay. Scott smiled and reached out for Isaac. The sub slowly walked over and grabbed onto Scott's hand. Stiles looked at Isaac and felt Derek tighten his hold on Stiles. He knew he was safe.
"Stiles, I should of told you he was coming. But since he's here I want to introduce you. Stiles this is Isaac my sub and the love of my life. Isaac this is Stiles. My best friend. My brother. You two are the most important people to me and I just really wanted you two to meet."
Isaac smiled shyly. "Hi Stiles. I'm sorry for scaring you. I didn't mean too. I promise. I hope you know I won't hurt you. I...I kind of in a way know what you went through. My dad used to hit me and beat the shit out of me. But now I'm away from him and I've never felt so safe. You're going to be okay too Stiles. I know you will."
Stiles closed his eyes and nodded at Isaac. He then opened them and reached out placing a hand in Isaac's hair and ruffled it. Isaac laughed and Stiles smiled as he drew his hand back. Derek smiled as well. His mate was getting along with one of his beta's.
"Stiles honey. I think it's time you get that horrid thing off your neck don't you agree?" Melissa asked as she walked in. |
a64eb823318d4fb685741baa4c93b896 | ['7d352bcd12bc45f7bc015e4ce16772f1'] | Then he pulled her body closer to him and he ran his tongue along her folds. Marinette let out a loud breath. When she moaned, he knew he had found the sweet spot. The noises she made almost made him hard again.
He moved his tongue in quickening circles as her hips bucked. She put a hand on his head and knotted her fingers in his hair. He slipped a finger into her hole and began pumping in and out.
Marinette’s knees bent and she moaned even louder. Her grip on his hair tightened and she came against his tongue. He kept going until it was completely over.
He put his shirt on, wiped off his face and hands on it, and transformed back into Chat Noir.
“You can open your eyes now,” he said quietly. She sat up and looked at him. She sighed, but this time out of sadness rather than pleasure.
“I guess this is goodbye?” She said, looking down.
“I just need some time to think, princess.” He said, lifting her chin up. She nodded and he stood up and left her sitting there naked on the floor. As hard as he tried not to, he looked back. Marinette’s eyes were following him, a single tear shining in the moonlight.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm trying to get better at smut, don't hate me please. Thanks for reading!
6. A Reveal
Adrien slid down the door of the bathroom stall. He didn’t think that he could handle seeing Marinette today, not after last night. His face fell into his hands. He was trying to make their moment last as long as possible before he had to face the inevitable.
He loved Marinette so much that it hurt. Every moment he thought about her he felt his heart swell, a feeling that had only become stronger since he learned she was Ladybug. The way she had acted on patrol had made sense. It also made sense that she hadn’t reciprocated his flirting as Chat Noir; she had already been in love with him as Adrien.
How could she ever love him? The angsty teenager who kissed girls like Chloe and couldn’t even get his dad to care about him. The problem was him. He couldn’t ever be good enough for a girl like Marinette. She deserved so much more than he could ever give her.
…….
Marinette tried to pull herself together as she walked up the steps to school. She knew she looked like a mess, her eyes were red from tears and she hadn’t slept a wink.. How had she managed to screw up so badly?
Alya came up beside her as she walked in. Her friend took one look at Marinette and steered her towards the girl’s bathroom. She leaned against a sink as Alya gave her a concerned look.
“Girl, what happened?” She asked. Marinette looked away. It wasn’t like she could tell her, and she honestly didn’t have the energy to make something up. So, she just shrugged.
“Seriously Marinette?” Her friend rolled her eyes. “I’m just trying to help. You could at least tell me what’s going on.”
Marinette pressed her hands hard against the side of the sink. She stared blankly at her feet as her eyes began to cloud with tears. She felt Alya’s arms wrap around her in a hug.
“Woah, I’m sorry Mari,” Alya said, “It’s just hard when you don’t talk to me about things, you know? I don’t want to make you cry, though.”
Marinette had been crying so much lately, and she hated it. She was Ladybug, she was supposed to be stronger than this. She looked up at her friend, wiping away her tears as she did so. Alya gave her a small smile.
“Thanks Alya,” she said, “I know… I know this must be frustrating, but I can’t tell you what’s going on right now. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Marinette saw from her face that it wasn’t completely fine, but for now she would take it. She sighed in relief as Alya led them out of the bathroom.
Marinette regretted her intense lack of sleep when she was awoken from a mid-class nap. She heard a loud “Marinette!” from her teacher as her head fell from the fist she was resting it on. She blinked at the students now staring at her. Her teacher just shook her head and went back to the lesson.
She looked in front of her, making eye contact with Adrien who was staring at her with a sad look in his eyes. She swallowed and turned away from him.
As soon as it was time for lunch, she walked home as fast as her legs would carry her. There were only two things that she needed: some time away from prying eyes and a nap. She mumbled something to her parents about homework she needed to do, and headed for her room.
She collapsed on her bed, having dropped her backpack on the floor below. She curled up and shut her eyes, wanting to welcome sleep with open arms. A loud noise from Tikki however made Marinette startle and sit up.
“Tikki?” she asked, “What’s going on?” Two small creatures shot up to her loft. One of them was Tikki, and one was a small black cat she had never seen before.
“Umm, Tikki?” Marinette asked, eyeing the newcomer, “What’s going on?”
“I’m Plagg,” the little cat said, “Chat Noir’s kwami.”
“I think he snuck here in your backpack.” Tikki said, glaring at him.
“Good to see you too Tikki,” Plagg said jokingly.
The ladybug kwami rolled her eyes, “I saw you last night.”
Plagg chuckled and Marinette coughed, trying not to think about what the little kwami may have witnessed.
“So, why exactly are you here?” Marinette asked, blushing. Plagg’s tiny form resting in her outstretched hands.
“Marinette, you have to talk to Chat,” he said, floating up to eye level, “He’s a mess.” | 26b63b2545124ad0a0060f4f2375407c | ['7d352bcd12bc45f7bc015e4ce16772f1'] | With that, she turned on her heels and walked away from him. Adrien sighed. This day was not going as well as he had hoped.
When he walked into the classroom, he was greeted by a piercing, “Adrikins!” Chloe threw her arms around his neck, hugging him.
“How are you today, boyfriend?” She said, looking at him now. Adrien used to have some sympathy for her, a soft spot. He thought she wasn’t as completely horrible as everyone said she was. This kissing ordeal however, had proved him wrong. Maybe there was hope for her to be a nice person someday if she stopped being selfish and manipulative, but today, Adrien didn’t want to have anything to do with her.
He removed her arms from around his neck and stepped back from her. “I’m not your boyfriend Chloe, and stop telling everyone I am.” Adrien turned his back to her and walked to his desk.
“But…” Chloe said, dumbfounded, “I was your first kiss!”
I’ve had better. Adrien thought to himself.
……..
It was just a kiss. Adrien’s words echoed in Marinette’s head all day.
She tried to pay attention in class but she just couldn’t. What was going on with her and Chat Noir? I mean sure, she had always thought he was cute, but she loved Adrien. She knew she didn’t anymore, though.
If Adrien had asked to talk to her alone last week, she would have been ecstatic. Today though, it just bugged her. Now that she was getting over him, he decided to pay special attention to her? She might not be good at romance, but she wasn’t an idiot. That wasn’t okay.
What was she going to do about Chat Noir? She had really like kissing him, but was that all it was to him? Just a kiss, and done?
Alya nudged her elbow. Marinette looked up at her, eyebrows raised in question. Her friend darted her eyes down at Marinette’s notebook. In addition to notes, it was filled with doodles of cat ears. Alya raised her eyebrows suggestively at Marinette.
Marinette rolled her eyes. There was no way she was telling Alya anything. Even if she wanted to, she was pretty sure Chat didn’t want anyone to know. She didn’t realize she had been doodling; another slip-up like that and the truth could come spilling out.
Just thinking about Saturday. She wrote in Alya’s notebook.
You okay? We haven’t really talked about it. Alya wrote back. Marinette smiled and nodded. She was okay.
That night, Marinette lay on her bed, trying to deny that she wanted Chat to come over. She would totally be fine if he didn’t, right? She would just spend all day tomorrow trying to figure out what that kiss meant. Her heart felt fluttery with nervousness and anticipation.
“Marinette, you’ve got it bad.” Tikki said, hovering next to her. Marinette rolled over to look at her.
“Tikki,” she replied, “What do I do?” Her kwami really was the only person she could ask about this. No one else could know.
“He likes you Marinette,” the little creature said, “Just talk to him.” Marinette sighed.
Then, she heard a knock on the trapdoor above her. She looked wide eyed at Tikki who gave her a smile and disappeared. Marinette took a deep breath, sat up and opened the door.
Chat’s head popped down through the opening. He gave her a toothy grin. “Good evening princess. Can I come in?” Marinette nodded nervously and Chat dropped onto her bed.
“Chat…” Marinette started to say. Why was she so nervous? It wasn’t like how she was nervous with Adrien- she could actually think and speak- it was something new. The energy between the two of them was overwhelming.
“Yes?” He said, tilting his head to the side.
“Did our kiss mean something to you?” She said quickly.
“It meant everything to me Marinette,” he said, caressing her cheek, “Don’t worry about that.”
“I think I like you a lot, kitty.” She said, quietly.
“I like you too, princess.”
“What are we doing?” Marinette asked. She wanted them to be on the same page.
Chat held her hand in his own and studied it. “All I can offer you right now is midnight rendezvous when I don’t have other hero duties,” he brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it, looking into her eyes. “And I’m offering you my heart.”
Marinette felt something heat up inside of her.
……..
Marinette pressed a tentative kiss against his lips, and then pulled away. “I’m offering you my heart, too.”
He kissed her again, harder this time. Her lips moved under his and he could feel her hunger. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. She was sitting on his lap, arms draped around his neck.
He ran his tongue lightly along her lower lip as his hands slipped under the hem of her night shirt and pressed against her bare back. Her grip around him tightened, if that was possible. She plunged her hands into his hair and arched her back. Chat purred a little. She was so intoxicating.
He left her lips and began kissing her neck, testing how far he could go before he left a mark. He left only one or two, a nice treat for him to see at school tomorrow. His hands ran up the smooth curve of her body as their lips crashed together again.
Lowering Marinette back onto her pillows, he ground his hips into hers. She let out a small moan which was swallowed by his mouth. He grabbed one of her hands and held it above her head as he moved against her again.
Marinette lightly bit his lips and moved her hips to meet his. Chat moved his other hand to her chest and cupped her boob, taking her nipple between his fingers. He cursed his leather suit right now, wishing he could be against her bare skin.
…….. |
281ec1c30b094fbcbcd6c8308676e5f6 | ['7d373d1f3a534cf7ad50d3aec801cfcd'] | “Jon, you owe me some new glassware, honey,” Bec said as she stood beside her husband and rubbed a soothing hand lovingly down his back, “Tall, dark and handsome here decided that if he couldn’t have a drink, then no one in the house should be able to either. Didn’t you, darlin’?”
_Always the diva, Rich? Dude, you can be pissed at me as much as you want, but just help me wake the fuck up._
“Jules...Julie’s hanging in there by her fingernails, Jonny,” Richie said as he chafed the back of Jon’s hand, “She needs you, man, and your kids need you too. We all do. So when they reverse the coma, you better wake the fuck up, you hear me?”
_What do you think I’ve been begging for? I just need to pull my wife into my arms and feel...her. Just her. Fuck why can’t you all hear me??_
“The kids and I mean all the kids, have been staying with David and Leesha,” Richie continued as he swiped at his nose with the back of his hand, “Lema...he’s looking out for them all.” Becca handed Richie a tissue box and he paused to wipe the stray tears and blow his nose. “Even with all the bullshit that’s out there from the drone this morning, he’s doing a good job of keeping everyone in check. Probably better than what I could have.”
_All of them? Dot let Jake and Romeo stay too? Shit, I wasn’t expecting that! Rich, he’s the one that enabled Ari and Ethan to... well, you know. But if he’s really keeping both families together, that’s a debt of gratitude I’ll never be able to repay._
“I know you and him haven’t seen eye to eye a lot recently,” Richie sighed, “but he’s doing the best he knows how. We all need to forgive each other for whatever past indiscretions we’ve held onto. You, me and Lema...we’re the only ones left of the band of brothers. I’d...I’d be lost without you both.” Richie kissed the back of Jon’s hand and placed the palm of his other over Jon’s heart as if to reassure himself that it was still beating. “I love you, Jonny.”
_You’re right, Rich. You haven’t always been right, but you are now. We’re brothers and I love both of you fuckers._
“Jon, honey, I’m going to take this guy home. The girls and Ethan too,” Becca said, and kissed Jon’s cheek, “I hope to see those pretty eyes open next time, you hear me? David and Leesha are bringing the rest of the family up soon, so rest up. We’ll send Julie back in. Ask her to show you her underwear. She’s wearing some of Leesha’s.” Becca winked at Richie, “That should wake him up.”
_It’ll wake something up...is that possible? Ugh, fuck my head is pounding. What’s a guy gotta do to get painkillers around here? Feels like my skull is splitting in two. Oh god, the pain!! Fuck my nerves are on fire! Help! Fuck someone please help me!!_
“See you tomorrow Jonny,” Richie said with a pat to his chest, “C’mon, darlin’, let’s get these kids through the vultures downstairs.” Richie turned at the doorway for one last look before closing the door behind him.
Richie and Bec gathered the children together after they’d said goodbye to their mother. They made their way to the elevator when the alarm started going off at the nurses' station. Richie just managed to see the doctor race into Jon’s room as the elevator door closed.
He wanted to scratch and claw at the doors to let him out and race back but when he turned he saw the faces of his family, he knew he had to hold it together until he and Bec were alone at their place before he could fall apart.
It was a tense trip back to David’s and they managed to get through the extra security on the gate with ease. He pulled up at the big house and the quiet group exited the car. Richie sat there in worried silence for a minute or two before Becca double-backed to the car.
“C’mon inside, honey,” she said gently, “Julie would have called by now if there was something amiss.”
He swallowed thickly, nodded and followed her inside the Bryan house.
David was sitting at the piano with Janelle, trying to keep her mind of Jon’s situation, teaching her a classical piece. Leesha was talking with Steph and Colton, the twin snuggled in her arms and wrapped gently around her tiny belly.
Colton was the first to look up and offered a gentle smile, letting Sammy sit in between him and Steph. “Did you get to show Jon your picture?”
“Yeah,” Sammy nodded and rested her head against her Uncle’s arm. “Mama put it next to his bed.”
“What’s up, sweetie?” Steph asked her sister, “How was Dad?”
Sammy looked up at her sister and scrunched up her nose. “Daddy’s naked. He must be cold,” she said matter of factly.
“Okay…,” Steph snorted, “thanks for telling me that, sis.”
The girls chatted amongst themselves as Richie and Becca came into the room; Richie flopped wearily down on one of the couches. He scrubbed his hands over his face and stretched out staring at the ceiling. “You...ahh have you heard any word from Julie in the last half hour?” he asked. Becca sat with her husband ready to catch him if he fell.
David looked from Richie to Leesha and his hand shook on the piano. “They’re...um...running more tests…”
“Tests for what?” Richie perked up, peering at David.
“Not now, Richie,” Leesha interjected, nodding to the twins and Sammy.
“Fuck!” he muttered.
“Colton,” David said to his son, “Why don’t you take Sammy and the twins into the studio? Let her bang on Tico’s drums for a bit...since you know the news...” | ef23d95393ad4b97b1e047569d823737 | ['7d373d1f3a534cf7ad50d3aec801cfcd'] | “I’ll come too,” Janelle volunteered. “Sammy needs her keyboardist.” David kissed his daughter’s forehead and Colton led the charges from the lounge.
Richie watched David closely and took his wife’s hand, saying, “I don’t like the sounds of this, bro, what’s happened?”
Leesha stood from the sofa and excused herself to the kitchen. “They think Jon had a stroke earlier. That’s the test they’re running,” David explained, unable to look Richie in the eye.
“The alarms. They...they went off as we were leaving,” Richie said leaning into Becca’s side, “I...I had a feeling as soon as the doors closed. I needed to get back there, but then I looked at the kids and I knew I had to keep going. Fuck!”
“So what’s the prognosis, have the doctors said?” Becca asked.
“Yeah, he won’t be able to walk on his own! No more singing, lack of motor skills! He’s only in this position because the four of us decided to live for the goddamn moment! See where it fucking got us?!” Leesha yelled towards David and the others. “If we weren’t acting like fucking teenagers, this wouldn’t have happened!” She pointed to her belly. “There would have been no fight, Julie wouldn’t have stormed out and Jon wouldn’t have chased after her!!”
“Babe, you need to calm down,” David cut in.
“Oh shut up!! You know it as well as I do,” Leesha snapped. “You think I don’t feel the stares behind my back!? I fucking caused this shit and none of you has any goddamn balls to just fucking say it to my face!!!”
“Leesha, please, I’m sure Jon and Julie don’t feel that way,” Becca said calmly, “It was an accident. Jon could have been heading for a stroke anyway. We don’t know that?!”
“The only accident was this baby because we had a one-track fucking mind!” Leesha stormed up the staircase and the slamming door echoed off the marble.
“Shall I go talk to her?” Becca offered and David shook his head.
“D? Is what Leesha said right?” Richie looked at his friend, “What the doctors said, I mean. You know none of you is to blame, right?”
David turned on the piano bench and leaned against the instrument. He rubbed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah, it’s true. It doesn’t matter what you say to her, Bec. Between the hormones and guilt, I can’t even console her. Hell, it was my stupid prank that started everything that night.”
“You can’t blame yourselves, David,” Becca said, “It’s not healthy for anyone. For you and Leesha, for the baby she’s carrying and certainly not for Jon and Julie. Okay, so you did one dumb thing which led to a series of unfortunate events. But the most important things, right here, right now, is Jon’s health and recovery and the health of that baby.”
“Becca’s right, man,” Richie sighed, “I could beat the living shit outta you right now, but it’s not gonna help Jon one iota. What’s done is done. We have to find a way to forgive each other and move forward.”
“Honestly, Rich, I’d probably feel better if you beat me up.” David gave a weak chuckle. “I’ve tried to keep my doubts and emotions under wraps for the kids’ sake. I just want Jon back. We’d just moved passed Ethan and Arielle, putting the pieces back together.”
“Yeah you dodged a bullet with that one, my friend,” Richie nodded. He sighed before continuing, “Look...let’s just concentrate on getting Jon back up and running, then we sort anything else out after that. I’m sure he won’t hold a grudge...for too long.”
***~*~***
Leesha stood next to Jon’s bed, looking between him and David whose head was bent over Jon’s hand. He pressed his lips against the too-still fingers, willing them to flinch or twitch. “Fuck, Jonny...I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, brother,” David cried, unable to hold back his tears.
_Thank fuck the pain in my head has eased. Lema, why you crying over my hand? You’re sorry? What the fuck for, man?!_
“We really fucked up, didn’t we?” Leesha asked her husband. “Why didn’t you let me stop this pregnancy when it was still early enough?”
“Don’t even go there again,” David snapped. “That’s not even an option, Babygirl.” He pulled her closer with his free hand and leaned in to kiss her baby bump. “He’s still part of you.”
_For once I agree with you D! I wouldn’t have let it happen either. Ari was right. Leesh, you do have a pretty bump. Not exactly how I would have planned another child, but he’s there now and unless God has other plans, then we’ll work this out._
Leesha ran her fingers through the blonde curls she adored so much. “But he’s not part of you,” she whimpered.
“He’s as good as, my love.” David moved her in front of him, lifted her shirt slightly and placed Jon’s limp hand on the bump. He then placed his own hand atop Jon’s. “That’s our son. A special part of both families.”
_Oh! I feel him! Or I feel his soul, maybe. He’s going to be the force behind our names, D. He’ll have my good looks, of course, but you’ll teach him everything he needs to know. Something is broken within us both, Lema, but this kid will do us both proud._
David laid his head on Leesha’s hip, moving Jon’s hand around the bump and felt her body tremble as the damn broke and his beautiful wife began sobbing uncontrollably. “I never meant to hurt you and Julie,” she choked out. |
53715f6bf0e84eb6884a51a8cc34b6a9 | ['7d46ac6ab6dc40ac87eacc56a76bb5cf'] |
1. Come on baby, let's ride
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> FYI : Momo isn't a guy in this, she just crossdresses as one for her job (lol).
Sana didn't know why she agreed to an all-ladies' host club night out with her friends when they asked her to. But, an hour into the ear-bleedingly loud EDM, flashy lights and a metric fuck ton of alcohol they ordered, and she was dead set on coming back the next night.
On her own.
No one told her that "all-ladies' host club night" meant that all the hosts were just their sister clubs' hostesses crossdressed in suits and ties. If she'd known about them, she'd worked them into her Thursdays eons ago. But better late than never, right?
*
Her friends picked some rando "host" with a fake scar and mustache as their table's favorite. A pity considering that a few of the unlucky, unpicked helper hosts that made the rounds through the tables were far cuter.
Especially one.
The sound had been turned up mind-blowingly loud when another table requested for a karaoke performance, though Sana could still hear the host's timid little introduction through it all.
She looked so out of place, so naive beneath the gaudy ornamentations and neon spotlights of the club. The host fiddled with her tie and pulled at her blazer so often it was driving Sana crazy. So while "Momotaro" and the other two helper-hosts finally made themselves comfortable with a couple sips of champagne, Sana came up with a proposition.
"Dance! Dance! Dance! Tell them to dance!"
Sana near smacked their table's head host as she held her glass up to the awkwardly stood trio. Her eyes flickered to race to steal a glance at the look on Momotaro's face. Her eyes were drawn wide - wider than they already were - and her lips parted so far Sana just wanted to shut them herself.
"Ryotaro, our table wants a dance, change the song!"
The head host yelled and downed the last of her liquor.
"You heard the lovely lady, dance!"
Sana didn't care for the other two hosts who seemed too seasoned to give a fuck about having to perform, or for the head host who had her arms slowly snaking along her friends' shoulders.
The speakers around their table switched from playing House to some messy mix of 808 hits, deep beats, and over-autotuned rapping. The ugly music and ugly atmosphere couldn't hold a candle to the beauty before her.
Sana didn't think when a smirk crept up her lips. She didn't know when she leaned forward or bit down on her lip. It could've been that fifth drink, or it could've been instinct.
_God_ did Momotaro look fucking good in that suit.
Sana knew she captured Momotaro's full attention when the host's eyes locked on hers, immediately. The music did something to the apprehension in her eyes. The music killed whatever held Momotaro back. It sparked a flame that rocked Sana to the point of forcing her to grip at the velvety couch.
And fuck, did Momotaro move _good_.
The music flowed through her. Each pop and lock, each slide and twist, each thrust of her hips made Momotaro look like a slave to the rhythm. The tempo built, noisy instrumentals fed into the banging chorus and the host snarled and smirked, as if to challenge Sana whenever their eyes locked on each other's.
Then, another song came on. Low, baritone, shifting thumps surrendered to successions of sleazy, sultry lyrics.
The host took off her blazer, lost the fedora that held her long, sable hair back from the night and tossed them to the side. In favor of shooting Sana another fiery glance.
Momotaro hadn't moved any closer to Sana since she'd started dancing. The playfulness laced in her expression, her half-lidded eyes as she took to the floor told her it was on purpose.
Sana made an assumption and got it blown out the fucking door.
Momotaro was on her knees, her eyes were closed and a hand combed through her hair as she grinded to the steadily climbing drum kicks. If it weren't for her clean pressed dress pants or for the shirt, turned slightly sheer either by spilled alcohol or sweat alone, shielding the host's body from Sana's lust-struck stare, Sana would've snapped then and there.
The painful distance between them killed her even more. Then, Momotaro shot Sana another cheeky smirk and the girl had finally had it.
A growl threatened to escape from Sana's tightened throat. Her self-suppression reached its limits.
"Hey!"
Sana's shout pierced through the booming of the speakers and reached Momotaro quickly, hastily. The host frantically opened her hazy eyes and paused the dance to find Sana with her eyebrows furrowed, a finger crooked and beckoning her over, beyond the table.
Instructions seemed to come second nature to Momotaro. She scrambled to Sana, halting mere inches away from Sana's seated figure.
Sana cracked a wide smile at the sight of the host's obedience. But the desire only built. All she wanted was to grip Momotaro's waist and bring her down to her lap for her to grind on her to whatever sensual song they put on next.
If it weren't for the "no-grabbing" policy they had for the patrons, Sana would've taken the chance just then to hold her and taste the skin on Momotaro's neck, just to hear a whimper leave those pouty lips of hers.
Momotaro saw the dark behind the glimmer of Sana's kilowatt smile and felt a shiver run up her spine. It frightened her. That, and her lack of reluctance to do whatever a complete stranger of a patron at the time might've commanded, frightened her.
There was no denying the stir in her stomach as the host caught that Sana's middle and index fingers traced circles and stroked at the material of the couch. | 05c6b00387d74b27a93b6f73ec909bd7 | ['7d46ac6ab6dc40ac87eacc56a76bb5cf'] | Impatience grew in Sana, her smile long gone. Momotaro had been standing still for what felt like ages to her when she could've been moving her hips on her. The floral scent of the girl's perfume was intoxicating and the sweat that beaded on her neck and streamed beneath her collar begged at Sana to pull at it.
Or the tie. As the song faded into yet more EDM, Momotaro seemed to snap out of her stupor, letting her thin black tie swing a little, tauntingly, in front of Sana's very eyes.
Sana thirsted to snatch the tie, wrap it around her hand and bring the clueless host close. She wanted to feel her warmth mix with hers, feel the heat of her breath against her lips and watch the tension and trepidation play in her irises.
And God did she want to rip that fully-buttoned shirt open.
Her finger had wandered up dangerously close to one of the belt loops on Momotaro's pants when the other helper-hosts had to drag her away for the next rotation of helper hosts.
Momotaro let out a gasp and a clear look of dejection crossed her face. The host's hair was tousled, her cheeks flushed, noticeable even as her form disappeared into the crowds of the other tables.
Sana slumped back into the couch, heaved a sigh and bit into the flesh of her cheek to ease the disappointment. She grabbed a nearly empty bottle of champagne and swigged it down. She let the carbonation linger and fizz on her tongue.
*
So she was there, two weeks later, sequin-studded dress and her hair dyed a shade of blonde lighter.
Sana noted that the club's taste in music hadn't gotten any better - mainstream dance playlists were apparently their thing. The guy behind the counter took one look at Sana and sniggered.
"You sure are different from this night's usual clientele."
Sana leaned over the counter and let out a chuckle. She looked to him with disdain and incredulity.
"Momotaro. I want her."
He scoffed at Sana's request for who he considered to be a newbie but conceded and nodded.
"Alright, alright, I'll get you a table and-"
She slid a couple notes over the tabletop that, by the look of the creeping smile on his face, the manager was more than happy to receive.
"Let's ignore club policy, kay? I want her and only her. No one else comes to our table."
He led her into the heart of the establishment, then made a detour to a quieter corner of the place. It was still decked with awful pop art paintings and had shitty lighting, but Sana gauged that conversation past occasional shouts and shrieks was possible there.
Sana crossed her legs and her eyes darted around for a figure in a sleek suit. Yet, no one appeared at the table for a straight ten minutes. She'd ordered a gin and tonic to cool the nerves she didn't know she could get from random attractive women and laughed at herself for the ridiculousness of this.
Then she appeared, and suddenly it didn't seem as ridiculous a situation as she made it out to be. Sana recognized that god-awful fedora, those same black pants and the white dress shirt, now paired with a striped tie tucked into a deep navy vest. Always with the tie. The tie that _begged_ to be pulled at.
Sana placed her empty glass down on the table and giggled at the silly expression on Momotaro's face. Obviously, she'd recognized Sana, but the innocence in it was stark against the atmosphere of the host club. The host bowed her head, stumbled closer, and looked to Sana like a deer in the headlights.
"Aren't you supposed to sit next to me?"
Momotaro flinched. Sana propped her elbow against the back of the couch to rest her jaw in her palm and regarded Momotaro with a bit lip and eyes that answered all of the host's own questions.
"Oh, I, uh..."
Momotaro rushed to take a seat beside Sana and rested her arm along the back of the couch as well. She raised her chin in an attempt to exude a more "masculine" energy as was expected of her, but the effort just made Sana giggle again.
"Good evening. You're Sana, right? It's been, uh, quite a while since our first meeting."
Momotaro lowered her voice, yet the femininity in her tone leaked through.
"So, um, would you care to order a drink or maybe something to eat? I can get you a-"
Sana had been gazing into her eyes and shifted a little closer to Momotaro. Those burning eyes of hers caused the host to choke on her own spit, and obviously, Sana let out a laugh and placed her hand on Momotaro's back. She rubbed slow circles into it and heard her breath hitch.
"You really are new, huh? You sound more like a waiter than a host."
Sana moved her hand from the girl's back and it traveled, gently, up to her neck and rested on her shoulder to curl wisps of stray hairs around her fingers.
"And what's with your host name... Peach Boy?"
Momotaro's cheeks were now notably pinkish and her other hand played with the buttons on her vest. Even though Momotaro averted her gaze to study the floor instead, Sana leaned in and whispered a remark in her ear.
"It's _cute_."
Sana heard another hitch in her breathing and felt the muscles of Momotaro's shoulder twitch on her words.
"They, uh, wanted guys' names so I just, um, used my real name but... not."
At that point, Sana could almost catch every breath the host exhaled.
"Momoko?"
"-Momo, just Momo."
Sana cracked a smile at the aptness of Momotaro - _no_ \- Momo's name.
"You're so fucking cute." |
7dfb63102bdc4b218ea1a13891d7dd4b | ['7d6cb618e8004695aae25698434ed332'] | “The pictures. How many of these do you want him to see? We can’t hide them all, but…” he trails off, indicating the photo from last night pointedly.
Her face flushes bright red as she gasps. The sound brings him back to the memory of a similar one escaping her lips last night, but he clamps down on the thought hard. “I- uh- right. Why don’t we just… put that one in your desk for now? Until we can shred it… or burn it… Um…” She circles around to get a better look at the pictures splayed over his desk. Awkward tension rolls off her in waves while she pulls a couple other photos out of the pile to put aside.
They’re left with five to show Digg, two of them leaving her apartment and the other three depicting them outside her car with the most minimal of physical contact. In one, he’s closing her car door, another they’re standing and facing each other, and in the final one, his hand is resting on her shoulder. Innocent enough, he decides. He isn’t sure if he can handle Digg’s reaction to their less than platonic nature on top of the revelation that the Ghost has managed to find Felicity outside the club. Considering that he’s revealed his knowledge of her extracurricular job, it stands to reason that he’s made the connection of Oliver’s as well.
Felicity seems to realize this around the same time he does, turning her eyes to his. “Wait… how much do you think he knows about you? If he’s found Verdant… What if he exposes you?”
He’s still gaping at her in disbelief as Digg makes his way into the office. “That’s what you’re worried about right now? Not that some guy is stalking you, but that he may have connected me to the Arrow?”
She bites her lip momentarily before chancing a glance at him. “Yes?”
Digg shakes his head as he chuckles despite the situation. It’s so like Felicity that Oliver almost wants to do the same, but he’s still struggling to breathe normally. Instead, he tells her to cancel his conference call.
“You’ve already rescheduled three times,” she tells him, fixing him with a look.
“This is-”
“Not going anywhere,” she interrupts firmly. “Take the call, get it sorted out. Digg and I will get started on this. If anything pops up I’ll come up with an emergency to cut the call short. Promise.”
He holds her eyes for a second before nodding reluctantly. Digg moves to the door, holding it open for her as he glances back at them expectantly. It takes her a few seconds to break the eye contact and follow the other man’s path out of the office, leaving Oliver to watch through the glass as they huddle together at her desk.
* * *
He gets the feeling this conversation they’ve reserved for “later” won’t be happening for a while. After he finishes up the conference call, Isabel comes to his office for an update and stays through lunch, which Digg brings in with an apologetic smile in his direction. Felicity doesn’t once interrupt him, leading him to believe that the pair have made no progress on how the Ghost managed to slip those photos into his morning mail. There’s no way he could have just mailed them; they wouldn’t have gotten here in time for the delivery. He had to do it personally, or have someone else do it for him.
The Ghost is stretching Oliver to the end of his patience. Not only has he demonstrated his skill in blurring the bigger picture of whatever is going on, but he’s now threatened him and Felicity. He’s watching Felicity. Oliver needs to find him. He wants to make him pay.
Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he tries concentrate on the investor’s questions. The sooner this is over, the sooner he can head to the club’s basement and work off some of the frustration that’s been building all day.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Queen, Mr. Nellon, but we’ve just had word from Ms. Queen that she requires your assistance across town. It’s an emergency,” Felicity says, sticking her head in the door after a brief knock.
Oliver’s heart leaps to his throat at her words. His first instinct is to ask what’s gone wrong, and he allows himself to follow it since it’s part of the cover, but his brain catches up to his previous request for her to interrupt them if there’s a breakthrough and he manages to mostly silence the concerned brother inside his head. He rises, apologizing profusely to Mr. Nellon as he escorts him to his office door before Felicity takes over, telling the man to have his secretary call her to set up a follow-up meeting next week to clear up any additional questions. By now, investors are used to being pushed unceremoniously from the top office, so Mr. Nellon merely nods. The only signs of the man’s displeasure are the slight crease between his brows and the faint purse of his lips, but Oliver finds he really doesn’t care much. It’s hard to care about anything beyond learning whatever Felicity has.
“You looked like you were about five seconds from bashing his head against the desk and walking out…” She says after the elevator doors close behind Nellon. “Thought it was best to just save him from your wrath.”
“Wait, so you didn’t actually find anything?”
“Well, not really… But I did have a couple of ideas. Digg’s already gone to Verdant, though, and I had a feeling you wouldn’t take too kindly to me leaving on my own, so…” | fb48cf4fcdbd4476b757f5d076e2dac4 | ['7d6cb618e8004695aae25698434ed332'] | She puts a halt to that thought immediately. _Of course_ her father turned her in. He’s a selfish bastard at heart, and letting her collapse Isabel’s organization does nothing for him. Although… he did say he planned to spirit her away in the aftermath of QC’s collapse, so perhaps he _does_ want out. Maybe he hasn’t told Isabel because he realizes he’s made a mistake abandoning them and he wants to make it right. Maybe-
No. She shakes her head to rid herself of the thoughts. She won’t allow herself to go back there. He left them. He’s been dead to them for six years. No man who loves his family does that. He doesn’t want them back, doesn’t want _her_ back. He made that plain when he ‘jumped’ in Shanghai. She can’t let herself be fooled into thinking he cares because he obviously doesn’t. He hadn’t cared for years before he ‘died’ and he certainly doesn’t care years later.
Hold on. Her brain stops in its tracks, rewinding the past thirty seconds of her thoughts to land on ‘Shanghai’. She looks into the office and, seeing Oliver bent over some paperwork for the first time all week, resolves to ask Digg instead. The man _is_ just standing there, after all. May as well be useful.
“Digg,” she calls him over quietly. If Oliver hears, the paperwork will never get signed and Larry from Legal (she loves saying that) will ream her out again. Diggle’s attention pivots to her from where he’s been aimlessly watching their fellow skyscrapers. “Nanda Parbat. It’s in Asia, right?”
Digg nods, pursing his lips. “Tibet, why?”
“My father…” She breaks off, biting her lip. “He supposedly committed suicide in Shanghai.”
“You think he joined up with the League after he faked his death?”
She nods, resting her forearms on the desk. “It’s too close to be a coincidence. We already figured the Ghost was trained while Oliver was on the island. My mom and I… we always wondered why he would do it in China. He could have just as easily done it here. But getting to Tibet after having faked your death in America would probably be more difficult than if you faked it in China. No international waters to cross. My father was nothing if not efficient.” She lowers her voice in a terrible imitation of the man. “‘If you aren’t taking the fastest route there’s no sense doing it at all, Felicity!’”
“So he fakes his death and then heads to Tibet. But why did he go? Did Isabel force him, or did he volunteer? And why did he even need to go in the first place?”
Felicity sighs. “I have no idea. He was really into punching things the years before he left. Maybe he wanted to try his luck with less stationary objects.”
Digg drops down into a chair across from her and leans forward on the desk. “You said he taught you to shoot, right? Around the same time he started taking an interest in boxing?”
She nods, wondering where he’s going with this. He seems to work the idea over in his mind before voicing it, his lips pursing and his fingers squeezing together.
“Maybe it was all part of the bigger plan. He gets a little disillusioned with the safety of the world and starts trying to teach himself some self-defence, but he needs a more hands-on approach. Maybe Isabel tells him about Nanda Parbat and he decides to go. Maybe she needs him trained to survive a life in the Russian mob. He teaches you to shoot so you can defend yourself before he disappears off the face of the Earth out of fatherly concern.”
She snorts at that. “My father didn’t have any parental concern left in him by the time he disappeared.”
“Fathers _always_ have parental concern,” Digg counters. When she remains silent, he reaches out to cover her hand with his. “Hey, you know you don’t have to hold it all in right? How are you _really_ doing with all this?”
She lets out a humourless laugh. In all honesty, she still feels a little numb. It’s like she knows last night happened, but a part of her still can’t believe it. It’s true but she can’t accept the reality of the situation. But she doesn’t know how to say any of that without babbling in circles, so she settles for, “I’m dealing with it.”
Digg fixes her with a look as though he’s prepared to force her into elaboration, but then the phone rings. Saved by the dead-end job.
17. Chapter 17
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Ok, so here we go again! For the purposes of this story, I’m making Isabel one year younger than Oliver, so she’s two years older than Felicity. We’ll start off in Felicity’s POV for now since she’s having a private meeting, and then head back to Oliver’s POV for a bit. Had I known I was going to go this far, I would have done interchanging POV from the start. I’ve planned to do interchanging POV in the sequel I’m planning to this.
Felicity can’t deny she’s nervous as she waits outside Isabel’s office for their meeting. She isn’t able to wear a comm this time, since her hair is in a ponytail, and she feels distinctly alone. Her phone is on, though, and Oliver insisted on putting a tracker in her skirt pocket. She rolled her eyes at him but indulged his protective instinct nonetheless. She can’t deny it will come in handy if Isabel decides to throw a black bag over her head and drag her off to parts unknown. Not that she would do that in a crowded office building… right?
“Miss Smoak?” The assistant calls, grabbing her attention. Felicity jerks upright. “Ms. Rochev will see you now.” |
23dcd9757f0942ee87e5cc97b72a02ea | ['7d8c5d20dbf74924964ce6da7a460d80'] | Arthur works it in very meticulously and slow. It’s torture. It’s heaven. Arthur holds him in his arms, nosing his neck and shoulder, his nape and tickles the short hair there with his soft exhales. When it’s finally fully in place, he withdraws it an inch or two and roughly pushes inside again, fucking it into Eames like it could magically be pushed deeper that it’s designed to go.
After a moment Eames starts to push his arse back, fucking himself on the plug still held firmly in Arthur’s hand. It gains him a growl from Arthur, whose mouth stopped right behind Eames’s left ear, “Slut, such a cock slut. Always so hungry for it.” And Eames whines, because tension is unbearable and his cock is so hard, even harder at Arthur’s words, nudges wetly under his bellybutton smearing precome.
“I need you to stand up,” Arthur murmurs. “Can you do it?”
Eames nods and stands, his legs only slightly shaking. Arthur helps him get rid of his pants and spreads him with both of his hands and examines the plug nestled fully into his hole. Eames can feel his face heat and squeezes his eyes shut, teeth closed around his ball gag to not to make a sound when Arthur probes the plug with his thumb and hums his approval.
Before standing up, Arthur puts black leather cuffs on his ankles, like he already has on his wrists and fuck, Eames can guess where this is going and fuck, he approves. He needs to take a couple of deep breaths to calm and steady himself.
With only his fingers placed between Eames’s shoulder blades Arthur guides him towards the bed, shuffling right behind him. “Lay down, on your back,” Arthur orders and watches as Eames hurries to comply.
He tosses and turns to find a remotely comfortable position, which is not easy with his hands bound behind his back, but he manages somehow and looks up at Arthur to see him already looking at him back with hunger in his eyes and his pink wet lips parted.
In a blink of an eye Arthur is beside him on the bed, kneeling by his side and damn, he looks so good. Eames can’t see if he’s hard, because his white lab coat obscures the view, and that’s a pity.
“On your side, facing the door,” Arthur commands again and again Eames happily obliges.
When he has his back to kneeling Arthur, Arthur arranges him to his liking; bends his knees so his ankles are very close to his bound wrists and clasps them all together with a chain. Eames moans, dizzy with want and arousal, they’ve done it before and he loves when Arthur restrains him, but this position - with his wrists and ankles bound together behind his back - is new, and he wants, he wants so much, everything, anything.
Arthur cards his fingers through his hair, massages his scalp, other hand touches, pets and kneads his arms, his muscles strained and protruding in this position. Eames is as flexible as Arthur. He is bulky, something that Arthur loves even though not comments on it. When he got his evaluation and he could go back to fighting, he took up his training again, he put some muscles back and ever since Arthur can't help himself but touch and caress and openly stare sometimes, like he’s perplexed, hypnotized with working muscles and sinews.
“If only you could see yourself now, Eames,” Arthur says directly into his ear, “You look so beautiful.” Eames shuts his eyes and breathes deep.
“I have a last one patient so I’m gonna go down and attend to her and I expect you to wait here for me. When I’ll be back I’ll fuck you… regardless of how many times you’ll rub yourself off on the duvet, so keep that in mind. I won’t take off your ball gag so you won’t be able to voice any complaint about being too sensitive.” He pulls on Eames’s hair until his head leans back, exposing his thick neck that Arthur eagerly bites.
“I will walk in here, push you onto your front, spread your thighs as wide as they’ll go, pull the plug out and push my cock into your hole and take what I want. Are we clear?” Eames tries to nod but his hair hurt too much so he makes a weak sound down in his throat praying Arthur will understand. Apparently he does, because Arthur releases his hold and whispers, “Good” into Eames’s jaw and kisses it.
Arthur swings himself off of bed and walks towards the door, stopping only for a moment to take off his white coat and put his suit jacket on instead. When he looks back at Eames laying on the bed, he adds casually, “If I find you asleep when I’m back, you’re going to spend the whole night with your butt plug inside.”
He turns to go but goes back to say, “Oh, and if you smear the duvet with this blood, I won’t touch you until you’ll wash it up, dry it and put back on.” He smiles and with that he’s gone, door softly clicking shut after him.
Eames looks down on himself and yeah, there is blood smeared onto his chest. He can’t remember whose blood is this, his or maybe his opponents, but he’ll be careful, he can be good when he puts his mind to it. As a reward, Arthur will give him exactly when he needs.
**Author's Note:**
> The title came to me as last moment thing. I like the double meaning of it in this fic - Clinical case submission is the name of the form you would have to fill out before sending an article about medical case you've been studied for review in order to be published (if accepted) in a renowned journal.
>
> It's better than the first and second ones. Trust me. I almost named this fic (You're) deer to my heart. IDEK. | 02422b5be3144cb5aad8d742542046b2 | ['7d8c5d20dbf74924964ce6da7a460d80'] |
I love you so much my heart changed colors
**Author's Note:**
> Happy Valentine's Day Inception Fandom! :o))
>
> beta'd by lovely LINK
>
> The concept and title LINK.
When Arthur was 5, he became best friends with the 6 years old boy living on the same street, named Eames, although it wasn’t intentional, not a bit. Arthur had been strolling down the street, on his way to his preschool playmate, Ariadne’s, birthday party, clutching the gift he had carefully wrapped the night before with his mum’s aid. His mum had him dressed in nice trousers and button down with a green bow tie.
When passing by the neighborhood playground, he heard very loud yells. When he stepped out of the pavement towards the swings, he saw a group of local boys he wasn’t allowed to play with, since they were older and wouldn’t play with him either way. They were also known as ‘these boys’ (‘Every community has their own thugs, son’ his father once had said to him) - the bullies, and they were shoving and kicking some other boy he didn’t recognize. Normally Arthur wouldn’t interfere, fights weren’t his style. Besides he wasn’t any competition for them. One slim, scrawny boy like he was a huge target for being bullied, and he really shouldn’t get involved when he was expected at a party and was carrying the gift.
He took a few steps back and was ready to retreat, but he heard the new boy cry out and grunt in pain as angry fists and feet hit him everywhere. He knew his mum wouldn’t be happy when she found out he hadn’t obeyed her instructions to ‘Go straight to Ari’s house, my love, watch the street and keep in mind the Rosie’s dog, this creature just doesn’t get along well with beautiful boys like you’, but he also couldn’t help but feel sorry for this boy. If Arthur was in his place, he would want someone to help him.
He ran up to the group and demanded them to stop, but they only laughed and the one he knew, named Nash, shoved him away hard so Arthur fell back onto his bum into dirt. He scrambled to his feet quickly and knowing he hadn’t any chances here, he ran to the bakery around the corner yelling for help. Mr Barrymore, the owner, was a good man, and he rushed right away with Arthur to the playground and chased the boys away.
The new boy laid beside the slides curled into himself, weeping into his folded arms. Arthur assured Mr Barrymore that he could handle things from now on and that he could go to Nash’s mum and report her son’s behaviour. Arthur sat down in front of the boy, his gift for Ariadne set aside, and petted his hair offering comfort. It was what his mum always did when he was upset and crying. Soon the boy raised his head and Arthur could see his puffy eyes, still wet, but blue, grey, and green at the same time, something Arthur have never seen before, and quivering lips, but so full and so red that he felt his cheeks burn and he had to look away for a moment.
“Thank you,” the boy muttered with a raspy voice, tired from crying and screaming. “You were very brave,” he added sounding a little bit in awe, what made Arthur’s cheek burn even more.
Arthur smiled at him brightly and said, “Do you want some cake?”
And that’s how it started, really. Arthur took the boy with him to Ariadne’s party, fed him cake and lemonade and helped him wash away the dirt from his face and his clothes so he would look presentable again. It soon turned out that this boy, Eames, his funny name had made Arthur grimace when he had first heard it, was in fact new to the neighborhood. He was from another country, and that’s why he talked funny too. His was all funny, Arthur concluded. Soon enough they had started playing together, visiting each others homes, having sleepovers even.
Arthur liked when Eames’ mum invited him over for a plate of crepes that he could eat with whatever toppings he desired, but he also loved when Eames was allowed to come over to his house and they would watch scary movies under the blanket when Arthur’s parents were working late or heading to bed earlier, curling into each other at particularly scary moments.
So it shouldn’t have been any surprise that when Arthur was 6 and Eames was 7, Arthur spent the whole week preparing a Valentine’s card for Eames. He had made one for Ariadne, of course, for his parents and grandma and for his other buddy, Dom too, but he had known from the start that the one for Eames was more special. He already knew about this whole love stuff, and his mum always said that ‘On Valentine’s Day we’re showing extra care for those who are close to our hearts, even more than we do every day’. So Arthur spent the whole week preparing his card for Eames, because Eames was someone Arthur cared a lot about. He couldn’t draw, not even a bit. Once, his preschool teacher had praised him for his drawing of a horse, when what he had drawn was a dog. Regardless, Arthur sat at his desk, focused and drew and drew and drew. When he was pleased with the final result, he put it away in his treasure chest under the bed until the Valentine’s Day.
When the day came he took the card with him when he went to Eames for their weekly gaming tournament. After some rounds of a car race game, they took a break. Eames made them a fresh lemonade and they sat at the back porch catching some sunshine. Arthur’s heart stuttered in his chest and hands became wet, but he was determined, so he run for his backpack and returned to the bench. He retrieved the card and gave it to Eames. Eames grabbed it carefully like Arthur was giving him some precious artifact and examined it closely. Arthur was so nervous, he thought he would die. His mouth suddenly became dry, despite the lemonade and cheeks burnt, even though they hadn’t been in the sun long enough to get a sunburn.
**
**It was a simple piece of white folded paper, with the big multicolored heart drawn with crayons and simple black neat penmanship that read ‘Happy Valentine’s Eames’. Eames looked at the front page for a long time, not saying anything, just looking, sucking on his lower lip in contemplation and then opened the card and read the inscription ‘With Love, Arthur’. The nerves got better over Arthur and he started fidgeting and panicking inside, suddenly worried if he miscalculated and Eames didn’t like him like he thought. What if he would stop being Arthur’s friend then? But then Eames smiled down at the card, closed it and pulled out a pen out of his jeans pocket and started scribbling something on the card that Arthur couldn’t see. When he was done he leaned towards Arthur and kissed him, close mouthed and sweet, placing the card on Arthur’s lap. Arthur’s world swirled, his whole body shuddered and he barely could believe what was happening. When Eames pulled back he quickly took the card and examined it. With black pen, in the middle of the heart, there was written ‘A + E ‘87’. Arthur’s head snapped up and he looked at Eames with mouth hanging open. Eames was smiling brilliantly and grabbed Arthur’s hand. “Happy Valentine’s darling,” he said. Arthur’s smile shined brighter than a thousand suns.
**Author's Note:**
> LINK |
3fceb29412f64967b9f41227f7268791 | ['7d8e9b148cc4445481731b953ee32ed6'] | Dawn over Tatooine, the early years
Time falters on the desert. The hours grind
in dust and heat by day, bitter cold at night.
Ignorant strangers harass me as I wait
for time and prophecy to come, for children
to grow tall. In retreat I feel blind,
tears flooding memories of the fair light
of the world I knew; how can I await
another? The song of a desert wren
is all my company. Yet I train still
as the only duty left, hoping for
comfort against all sense, against all fear,
against the solitary cup and plate,
against the fear that all has been too late
and only I remain to mourn the clear
beloved past. I have lost too much, for
losing all is too much, losing masters
and friends, losing the work I loved best,
losing the easy treasure of my life
with my apprentice, now forever lost.
Failure's expensive. There's no limit to the cost
that's paid for my faults now, in deadly strife
on distant worlds I loved. And must I rest
in safety when all now face disaster
because I did not listen to a friend?
I sense the tramp of soldiers' boots on the soil
and hear mothers' cries for their murdered ones
who opposed invasion and empire. None
are unscathed by my faults; by no hard toil
can I bring their sorrows to an end.
All I can do is wait, watch over him,
this child of our remaining hope, this son
of the last best gift I knew, from the man
whom I knew best, loved best, but could not keep
from death too soon -- and from all that men reap
because he found a gifted child. If I can
protect this boy until he's grown, be done
with hiding, I vow I'll go along with him
and be of use again as I was trained.
For now this solitude and discipline remain
for me: live alone, burnish techniques learned
years ago, hope some day to see one friend,
one master, once again before the end
comes even to this forgotten terrain. | da83b59f2e0545fd8f8bac3b5bf71711 | ['7d8e9b148cc4445481731b953ee32ed6'] | The Complaint, a sequence of Sarmatian sonnets
He never talks to me. When he decides
what he will do, or what we'll do, he talks
to his god, to whom he kneels. When he walks
away, afterward, oftentimes he rides
along the wall, watching the horizon
as if he could reach the end of it if
he rode far enough. Once he took a skiff
on the river in summer, for he relies on
distance to keep him safe. But I, who serve
him with my life, like and unlike the others,
have his silence, his gasps, his soft rough sounds
to comfort me at night. Do I deserve
no more from him, my lover, more than brother,
than a warm blanket on the frozen ground?
He knows he has only to speak, to ask
to have whatever he wishes, for he
is Arthur, the only one we follow.
But he won't ask, refusing to impose
upon our service. No sweet repose
for him, more than for us; no clean swallow
of water before we drink; no sorry
task he does not share in full. I would ask
no more of any man. Yet he pauses
to speak to the Woad he saved, that woman
with her fierce eyes and strong bow. There's true fire
in their glances. I know what movement causes
that blue spark in him, and what touch a man
can give a man to kindle fiercest desire--
But so much she knows as well, a woman's
touch but a warrior's pride, to raise fire
from a man's loins and make a new future.
What she can give, he does not realize
he wants, yet I see it in his clear eyes
as he watches her work, sees her suture
a wound, trusts her to give him cover fire
as he rescues one of us. She's no man's
toy, that one. But what am I, who have been
with him fifteen years? Confidant, comfort,
blood of my heart, partner in passion, in walks,
in patrols in snow, rain and heat. I've seen
him laugh, weep, pray, gasp -- but I'll not resort
to words when it's to god and her he talks. |
f98aa6ec3ace4656bc7ab976d85f8123 | ['7d972ed2a65a4e15b9e17c5fa51174e8'] | “I’ll be damned! It is Freddie!” Butch’s eyebrows shot up for a moment in surprise. His lips broke out into a rare grin. “You still wear’n that old, ratty jacket?”
“Hey, you’re wearing yours too!” Freddie chimed back. The Boys then broke down into a very odd ritual that Anna could only assume was normal for the two. She couldn’t make out a word, or any sense to movements. It reminded her of some of the old video’s they had watched in school, the ones with the chimpanzees.
Freddie looked good. He was of course way more tanned and dirty than he was in the vault, and of course a bit older from the last time Anna had run into him. He looked...Happy. The fresh air had apparently done him good. Anna would never forget the day James diagnosed him with ‘Vault Depressive syndrome’ her dad had always tried to shoo her away when her classmates came to visit the clinic, but curiosity won over respect in those days. She remembered standing outside the door and realizing Freddie’s behavior all through the years finally made sense.
The scene had just pulled at her heart strings and possibly made her fall for Freddie even more. What could she say? She was a teenager, didn’t every teen girl think they were in love with someone at the time? Why she picked Freddie to become hung up on, she’d never know. She had always thought him handsome, even when they were kids. He seemed to be the happy medium mix of bad boy (Butch had way too much of that) and still have a sweet heart.
“You ok nosebleed?” Butch elbowed her, startling her out of her thoughts.
“You two are jacketed now!? I can’t believe it! The whole vault will get a kick out of it! They’ll never believe me!” Freddie cried, almost laughing in disbelief himself.
“How is the vault now days?” Anna crossed her arms, leaning against Butch. She hoped to use him as an anchor to avoid floating off into the long dead past.
“Ain’t gonna lie, things have been pretty shitty.” Freddie deflated a bit, and the normal sad look to him returned. “Supplies is low...Amata’s been pretty good in keeping us all together and motivated...but I don’t know...I just hope there ain’t another...ya know...” He glanced at Butch, who knew exactly what he was talking about.
Butch glanced down, getting a hollow look in his eyes as he tried not to think about the past. Anna licked her lips, reminding herself she wasn’t the only one who was haunted.
“You need supplies? Have you tried in Megaton? We have some stuff to spare.” Anna offered.
“Really? You’d do that? Normally I wouldn’t to...keep the peace.” Freddie glanced at her up and down. Anna assumed there were some still in the vault who blamed her and her father for everything. “But, we could really use the help. They don’t have to know it came from you guys, now do they?”
“What do you mean ‘We’?” Butch’s head snapped up. “You make sure to tell’em it was from Butch! That the Butch-man saved the vault!”
“Okay, let’s not go that far...” Anna’s eyes narrowed skeptically.
“Oh yeah! Wow! You’d be a hero! I would be too for bring’n the stuff back!” The boys once again broke down into their odd, loud behavior that caused Anna to roll her eyes.
“So, are we going to hit the road, or what?” Anna started the path again towards Megaton.
“Yeah, Yeah! Pushy!” Butch huffed, earning a snicker of approval from Freddie. Anna figured she should get used to Bucth’s shitty behavior, he never stopped back in the vault. Anna had figured out years ago one of the main reason he acted like an ass was simply for attention. Sense Butch “her boyfriend” (That phrase still weirded her out sometimes) she thought that was sort of sweet in a twisted way.
The boys seemed to talk nonstop all the way back to Megaton. Anna didn’t mind much. She did miss having small conversations with Butch to keep her mind at ease as the sun set, but she found Freddie’s obnoxious laughter did just the same.
\-------
“How exciting!” Moira bubbled as she began boxing up the supplies Anna had bought for the vault.
“Somehow, I don’t feel the same way...” She sighed, leaning against the counter. She crossed her arms as she thought.
“Well isn’t he your old vault friend? You two could catch up! What fun!”
“Yeah but he’s also-” Anna groaned.
“Uh-oh...I sense some drama coming up here. Come on, were you two lovers or something?” Moira laughed and winked as she put a lid on box number one.
“Ugh, No.” Anna covered her face with a hand, peeking through her fingers. “He...was my grade school crush.”
“AAAAAWH! Isn’t that just the sweetest!” The ginger gushed.
“We, also were a thing for like five seconds.” Anna admitted, causing Moira to gush again. “Not like- Ugh, why am I even taking the time to explain these things to you?” She exasperated.
“Because I am a likeable and trustworthy person?” Moira tilted her head like a puppy. Anna sighed, trying on a smile.
“Well...I’m hoping nothing will happen anyway...I’m sure it won’t.” She convinced herself. “I’m sure Freddie will visit for a while, then just go back home...Home to the vault and never, ever, ever come back out again.”
“Ever?...” Moria’s eyebrows shot up.
“Ever.” Anna took up all the boxes of supplies with her and left the shop.
\---------
“Dude, don’t be racist.”
“How is is racist? I’m asking a question!”
“You just don’t mention the ghoul thing to the ghoul, man!” Butch bopped Freddie on the head.
“No discount for you.” Gob, the bartender grumbled as he polished a glass.
“Shit dude, I’m sorry! I was just wondering how you deal with you’re uh...stuff...falling off.” Freddie stared down into his beer bottle. | 481acfe9fab7477a80c7c59ae362afbc | ['7d972ed2a65a4e15b9e17c5fa51174e8'] | "Eh, close enough." He shrugged, finally getting up off of me. I gasped again, this time taking in a large gulp of air. I had just seen my life flash before my eyes. Butch just laughed as he watched me slowly get up.
"Wittle butchie is still afraid of heights, though." I muttered. His laughter stopped short and he lunged at me. I screamed, breaking out into a run.
23. Apples to Apples
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Sharing is caring.
I stopped short as I breezed past a table, backtracking a bit. A fresh apple? I picked it up, I'd never seen one before.
"Butch. Lookit." I turned and showed it to him. He raised an eyebrow.
"Did you just steal that?" He seemed impressed.
"Maybe." I bought the apple back towards me. I wonder if it tasted just like the boxed kind. Curiosity took hold as I brought it to my lips and took a bite.
"Hey! Is that even safe to eat!?" Butch cried. I was too busy enjoying the apple. It was amazing. The taste was fresh and clean. It actually had juice in it too! I smacked my lips, chewing and swallowing.
"Oh my god." I handed the apple back to Butch. "You gotta try it!" I beamed, he looked skeptical.
"Is it safe?" He asked again, taking it and expecting it.
"Do you think any of the Mirelurk meat we eat is safe?"
"Fair point..." He bit down, eyes widening in surprise. I giggled a bit, looking back at the table. I stole one of each of the fresh things. A potato, a pear, and a carrot. Butch scoffed behind me. "Really?" I turned, taking the apple back from him.
"The apple's good isn't it?" I took another bit from it, not caring there were now Deloria germs all over it. He crossed his arms.
"I thought you were supposed to be a goodie-two shoes?" He plucked the apple out of my hands again, stealing another bite.
"Maybe I don't wanna be one anymore?" I offered, stealing it back.
"You couldn't if you tried." He tilted his head a bit, a look in his eyes that caught me off guard. It also made me feel a bit weird. I blamed it on the apple and turned around. Tossing the apple over my shoulder at him.
"Fine. You caught me. I just have a weakness for fruit."
24. Parents
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Anna pays a visit to her dear old dad.
Butch hesitated.
"I can hang back if you like..." He offered. Anna turned to him, giving a smile that definitely did not fit the mood.
"It's fine Butch, I want you here." If she could tell how awkward Butch felt, she didn't mind it.
The pair finally had made it back to Rivet City, but not for the booze or market place. This was a different type of visit.
Just outside the city, shielded by a few pitiful trees sat a pile of rocks. Nothing special, save from a crudely built cross that was falling apart shoved on top of it.
"I never can get it right..." Anna frowned a bit, sitting down on the ground and fiddling with the two sticks.
"Here." Butch carefully knelt down next to her, helping tie the cross back together.
"Thank you." Anna smiled again, she didn't do that often now days. Now twice in a row? It was starting to creep Butch out. Anna sat back on her knees, gazing at the small grave as Butch stood, taking a few steps back. He glanced at the glowing force field around the Jefferson Memorial
"This is just a memorial thingy." Anna explained as if reading his mind. "I wasn't able to go back for the body, they probably tossed it in the river or something." Butch looked back at her. How could she say something so casual? She sat stiffly in front of the grave, her back to him.
He hadn't heard her mention anything much about her father out here. Other than the fact he's passed on. They seemed close back in the vault. He even considered asking her about what really happened, but he shut his mouth. Things were quiet now. he didn't want to interrupt her time. This wasn't the right place anyway. He thought space was what she really needed right now. Backing up more, he turned and leaned against a tree. He took out a cigarette and lit it, a hand on his gun in case anything or anyone tired to mess with them out here.
Butch couldn't help but to understand where she was coming from. Not about losing a father so much, but a mother. Butch's ma was hurt in one of the short, early riots in the vault. Without a proper doctor, the only thing Butch could really do for her was let her die in his arms.
He tried not to think too much about the fact it was kind of her, and her dads fault all for what happened. At the rate she was drinking, she should have been dead a long time ago anyway. Though some days, Butch can't help but get those 'What if' thoughts.
Butch's depressing thoughts about his moms last breath were interrupted by a sudden gust of wind, on it, it carried a very lonely sounding cry. Turning, he saw Anna as a crumpled mess. Curled up, clutching herself like her life depended on it. Her body shaking with each sob. Butch stopped and stared. He wasn't sure what to do. He watched her, realizing how small she looked. Anna was normally the strong one, the one to stand up and make sure her voice was heard, but now...Now she looked like she would give anything to just disappear for good. |
f2b619209a8a40e7a9f5b700f9d36cfa | ['7da0a01e6f5f450da2520c165526b23b'] |
Where do we go from here?
**Author's Note:**
> THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS.
>
> This is technically an alternate ending. I took a part out, and I added this on, because this is what I wanted to happen. I don't own Gracepoint or any of the characters. All rights are to FOX.
Detective Carver was attending the check up that his boss had ordered. His job depended on this. If he was unfit to work, then he was taken off the case, and fired.
He didn't even care about the fired part, all that was on his mind during the whole thing was the Danny Solano case. Was it really Vince? He kept asking himself questions, none that he could actually answer. "You're unfit for this job, Emmett. I'm sorry." The doctor that was assigned to check his ability to work this job said.
"Yeah. Yeah, ok." Detective Carver said as he grabbed his coat and walked out of there, not even worried about being labeled unfit for duty. He drove to the station.
"I know I'm not fit for duty, and I know I have to leave. Give me until six to finish this case and I'll be out. I'll be out by six." Emmett told the sherif. The sherif agreed and handed Carver his paper.
Emmett went to get some coffee for himself in the kitchen. When he got there, Ellie was in there also. Emmett gave her some orders. And she finished making her own coffee. "I called Joe in for today.." Carver snuck in. "You called him in and didn't tell me?" Ellie snapped. "I'm telling you now." Carver said as he walked away to his office.
In his office, Tom Miller and his father, Joe Miller sat on the sofa awaiting him. Detective Carver set up the camera for the interrogation to start. "Your computer was stolen?" Detective Carver asked Tom. Tom nodded. "I told you, it was stolen out of my bag at school ." Tom said. Detective Carver pulled out the evidence bag containing Tom's smashed computer, showing it to him and his father.
"Why would you smash your computer?" Detective Carver asked Tom. Tom looked at his dad. "Answer his question, Tom." His father said, and Tom turned his head to answer Detective Carver's question. "It had my emails on it." Tom said and swallowed. "Emails with whom?" Detective Carver asked. "Danny." He said, looking down. Detective Carver opened a folder that had the printed out emails between Danny and Tom. "How did you get those?" Tom asked. "Save them from your smashed Hard drive." Carver answered.
"Did you see anyone hit Danny?" Detective Carver asked. Tom looked at his father and back to Detective Carver. "I never saw anyone else hit Danny." Tom said. His father looked at Tom. "Ok, we're done. If you're going to accuse my son." His father said, as him and Tom got up to leave. "Wait. What size shoe do you wear, Tom?" Detective Carver asked. "6." Tom replied. "And you?" Detective Carver asked his father. "10." He said and they walked out.
Detective Carver and Detective Miller were standing on the beach. Carver's phone started ringing. He answered, it was one of the officers from the station. They informed him that Danny's cellphone had been reactivated and that they were sending the coordinates to Carver's cellphone.
"If I'm interrupting, I can't always wait.." Ellie said. "No, go back to the station. Starting interviewing Vince again. I'll meet you there." Carver said. Ellie obeyed and went back to the station.
Carver recieved the coordinates and was taken to them. The Miller's home. He looked through the front window. Then he walked through the back. He noticed the garage door was open, so he went inside. There was Joe Miller, holding Danny Solano's cellphone. "I'll tell you everything." He said. Detective Carver brought Joe Miller back to the station. In one of the interrogation rooms. He pressed record on the tape recorder to record the session. Joe Miller confessed to killing Danny Solano. Detective Carver inferred that he was sexually attracted to him, but that was just a guess from what he told him. "Does she know?" Joe asked Carver. "No." Detective Carver replied. "I can't tell her. You have to." Joe said. Detective Carver nodded. Carver walked into the room where Ellie was questioning Vince again. "Hey, what are you doing?" Ellie asked as Carver said, "Interrogation terminated." And pressed the stop button. Another officer took Vince out. "What's happening?" Ellie asked again, feeling confused. Carver closed the door, and sat down where Vince was. "I'm going to ask you some questions, just answer them, so I can, you know." Detective Carver said. "Where were you the night of Danny's death?" Carver asked Ellie. "Are you, are you serious?" She replied. He gave her a look. "I was in bed. We had just gotten home from vacation that night. We were flying all day. And a long drive home. So I was exhausted. Got Dillon in the tub, then I got the kids to brush their teeth. I got them to bed, then unpacked. I took a sleeping pill and went to bed." Ellie answered. Ellie answered two more stupid questions that Carver asked her. "I'm done answering questions. Tell me what's going on." She said. Carver pulled out the chair next to her and sat down. She scooted away. "Why are you getting close to me?" She asked. "It wasn't Vince." Carver said. "What? How do you know?" She asked. "It was Joe." He said. She looked horrified. "No! It wasn't Joe. Joe didn't do that." She said, crying. "We have him in custody." He added. "He confessed to killing Danny." He also added in. Ellie gagged and ran to the trash can, throwing up. She started crying. "I want to see for myself." She said. He nodded. Carver and her walked to the room where he was. "Don't touch him. Don't do anything that will tamper the investigation." Detective Carver said. He let her in the room and shut the door. She stared at Joe. "Ellie." He said, relieved sounding. "Is it true?" She asked. He nodded one time. "He was 12 years old..." Ellie said. "I know." He said softly. "I just need you to know that I'm a good man." He said. "No you're not!" She yelled as she started hitting him. She pushed him down and kicked him in the stomach repeatively. Carver ran and another officer ran in. "Get her out of here." Carver ordered the officer. He took her to Carver's office. She waited the for him to come back. "We got a motel for you and the kids. Close the blinds and don't talk to anyone. Don't answer the phone unless it's me." Carver ordered. Ellie was allowed to stop at home to grab clothes before she went to the motel. She grabbed clothes. And went to the motel with her kids. Carver went to the Solano's home to inform them. "We charged someone for the murdering of Danny." Detective Carver said. "Oh god, I don't even want to know.." Beth said as she cried into Mark's shoulder. "No, it's fine. We need to know." Mark said. "Please tell me it wasn't someone we knew.." Beth added. "Joe Miller.. We have him in custody." Carver said. He waited after their shocked reactions to continue. "Him and Danny had been meeting secretly for months." He added. "What about Ellie?" Beth asked. "She didn't know. She didn't know anything." Carver said. Detective Carver brought Mark with him back to the station to see Joe. "I can only give you 20 minutes, Mark." Carver said and he nodded as he pointed at the door and asked if it was that one. Carver nodded and closed the door. The little window opened and Mark looked inside to see Joe. "Mark?" Joe asked. "You touched Danny, I know you did. You say you didn't, but I know you're lying." Mark said. "No, I didn't. I swear. I'm a good man." Joe said. "You killed my kid!" He yelled. He took a breath and calmed down. "For your sake, I hope they keep you locked up for a long time." Mark said as he left the room. The next day was the day of the memorial service the we're having for Danny now that his body was released. The whole town attending, including Detective Carver. Ellie and her kids did not attend the funeral. After the service, they had a bomb fire on the beach. Ellie and Emmett sat far away from everyone. "Everyone is there. Except us." She said. Emmett took a breath. "I wanted to be wrong, you know." He said. Ellie looked at him. "How are the kids?" He asked. "They're fine. They will be fine." She said. "What are you gonna do?" Carver asked. "Take them somewhere, get a fresh start." She replied. "Away from Gracepoint?" He asked, She nodded. "How could we stay here? How could we even walk down a Main Street?" She asked. Emmett looked down. "Can I come with you?" He asked, quietly. "W-what?" Ellie asked. "Can I come with you, and get a fresh start?" Emmett repeated more loud this time. Ellie thought for a second, and knew she didn't want to do this alone. "Sure." She said. "Really? And I have a question." He said. "Yeah, really." She said. "What's your question?" She added. "Do you have any feelings for me, Miller?" He asked Ellie. "Well, you took my dream job... And then were cold and mean through out the case, but then you warmed up to me. And I saw the real you. The soft part. And yes, I liked that. I like you." Ellie said. He smiled. "You can only kiss me under one condition." Ellie added. "And that would be?" He asked. "Get your procedure done." She said. He nodded. "That's what I was going to tell you, Ellie. I'm going through with it." He said. She smiled. "Then kiss me, Emmett." She said as Emmett pulled her closer. He pressed his lips to her and they kissed softly for a few seconds. "Here we are, the former Detective's club..." Ellie said as Emmett and her walked away with his arm around her. He chuckled. | 502b327b517b4c268c274f438a4daba5 | ['7da0a01e6f5f450da2520c165526b23b'] | The Makeout in the Blizzard
**Author's Note:**
> What I wanted to happen. Booth x Brennan fluff ^_^*
"Ah! I blame you, Booth!" Brennan yelled as she kicked the stadium seats that they had crammed into the elevator in hopes of getting them into Booth's apartment.
"Because of the elevator?" Booth asked Brennan. "No, because of the stupid chairs, Booth. The chairs." Brennan said angrily.
A half of an hour later, and we have about 10 phone calls, and Booth throwing out his back.
Dr. Sweets had suggested that they talked about them. Their feelings, their partnership. Booth was angry, shouting at Sweets, and even threatened to throw the frozen peas the Mrs. Ross had given to Sweets for Booth's back. And he ended up throwing them at him, making Sweets upset, resulting in him leaving.
"Do you feel bad for being hard on Sweets?" Brennan asked Booth. "No, I'm thinking about my father, and about being too hard on Sweets." Booth admittedly said. Brennan nodded.
"I guess I can see why he thinks we're into each other still." Booth said, looking at Brennan. "I have thought about it- sleeping together. It'd be strange if we didn't." Brennan said. Booth smiled.
"Yeah." He said quickly. "Because how physical we are." Brennan said. "Like how we throw ourselves into cases." Booth added. "And we have great stamina, engaging in sexual intercourse together would be quite satisfying." Brennan said and Booth looked at her quickly. "I've always imagined us being sexually compatible." Brennan added.
"But then after, what? What does it mean?" Booth asking Brennan. "No, it wouldn't work. I'm rational, and you believe in magic and God." Brennan said, making Booth frown.
"Bones, you do know that opposites attract right?" Booth asked. "Of course. That applies to many situations. Magnetism, even anthropologically." Brennan said. "Then please, please be quiet and kiss me." Booth said.
Brennan was quiet. Booth leaned in, brushing her ombréd Brown and blonde hair out of her face, she closed her eyes, and so did he, and he connected their lips together. Sparks ignited within the both of them. Brennan wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him as close as she could get him in the situation they were in.
Sweets came walking down the stairs with some blankets and snacks for them, and froze in his tracks when he saw what was currently going on in the stuck elevator.
He quietly silenced his phone and snapped two pictures of the intimate kiss that Booth and Brennan were sharing. He sneaked up the stairs, and went back to Booth's neighbor's house.
Brennan and Booth stopped kissing. They looked into each other's eyes, smiling. Both of their cheeks were flushed. Brennan layer her head on his chest, and he wrapped his strong muscular arms around her, covering them with a blanket his neighbor had given them in case they got cold. |
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