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495ba06f42b14d2cb479f797488bac01 | ['7da2f29e39234deca926925832149d4b'] | Zevran looked at me incredulously. “Ah, Kylara… You don’t hate me that much? Do you?”
I turned to face him. “Of course I don’t hate you!” I then looked back at Shale.”Well?”
Shale just stood there. “Nothing. I feel nothing.” He shrugged his massive shoulders. “I feel no compulsion to carry our its command. Does this mean that the rod is… broken?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I got the rod for free.”
“Do you think Felix knew it was broken?” Alistair asked. I shrugged and tossed the rod on the ground.
“Hmm, I suppose if it can’t command me. I guess this means I have free will, yes?”
“If that is the case, shouldn’t that make you - I don’t know - happy?” I said.
“It is simply… What should I do? I have no memories, beyond watching this village for so long. I am finding myself at a bit of a loss.” He looked down at me. “What about it? It must have woken me for some reason, no? What did it intend to do with me?”
“We are Grey Wardens,” I said, indicating Alistair and me. “We have to fight the darkspawn and some of them are rather tough. Would you be willing to give me… us… a hand?”
“It is asking me if I want to kill darkspawn? What a novel thought.”
“You um, won’t kill me, like you did your former master. Will you?”
“Not unless it annoys me too much with its pointless questions.”
“Are you going to keep calling me… ‘it’?”
“Yes. Very likely,” Shale replied.
I sighed and said, “Then, I guess we are done here. Guess we should head back to Rainesfere. Will you come with us, Shale?”
“Well, since I do not know what else to do with myself, I suppose I could follow it around for a little while. Might even be amusing…”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This was all originally Chapter 18, but since it was so long, I split it into two. Hope you've enjoyed it... ^_^
20. Last Night in Rainesfere and Heading to Orzammar (M)
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Another member joins Kylara's misfit band of rebels! After receiving some devastating news, Kylara and Alistair discover a new bond between them, strengthing their relationship.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> AMAZING sketch of Alistair comforting Kylara after she receives disturbing news... From the lovely and fantastic Ambellina! Thank you!! (https://ambellinaleander.tumblr.com)
>
> ** Mature Content Ahead **
As we were leaving Shadmoor, Shale following our little group, I remembered the bodies that the darkspawn had left hanging at the entrance. I was about to tell Leliana to shoot them down, so we could give them a proper burial when I heard a thump and a loud ‘squawk’!
I looked behind me. Shale had just walked near an exposed chicken coop and there was a bloody, feathery smear on the ground. Shale just looked back at me and shrugged as if to say, ‘What?’
“What did you do that for?” Alistair exclaimed.
“I hate birds. They are a pestilence on this world.”
“But there are some birds that are useful. Like the ones you eat! Like the one you just… crushed.”
“I approve of the ritual slaying of the foul beasts, but… it eats one? Disgusting!”
“They're really quite tasty. You just need to rip off the feathers, first. Then you cook them. I like the skin, myself…” Alistair grinned.
Shale’s rocky face made a grimace. “I think I am going to be sick!”
I couldn’t help it. I started laughing, soon followed by Zevran, Leliana, and then Alistair.
“I do not think I said anything funny…” Shale muttered.
Once we had stopped laughing, we got back to the task at hand. As Leliana shot the ropes holding the dead villagers, Alistair ran back to the village and found some shovels. We dug a grave for them in the field outside of town and quietly buried them. Leliana said words from the Chant of Light, and then we left Shadmoor. Shale had said nothing during the time we did this, but as we were walking away he finally spoke.
“Why did it do that? It did not even know them.”
“We could not just leave them there to rot. That would not have been appropriate.” I explained.
“But why bury the villagers in the dirt? Does it think that new ones will sprout out of the ground like the crops they plant?”
“Of course not! We bury our dead to honor them. We say prayers… It is just respectful.” I stumbled… _How do you explain this to a golem?_
Alistair spoke up. “Different cultures of Thedas have different ways that they take care of their dead. I have read that dwarves entomb their dead in stone. They call it ‘returning to the stone’ or something like that. The Dalish bury their dead and then plant a tree over the body to symbolize life from death. Most humans just bury their dead in the ground and have a ceremony to celebrate the life that that person lived. Sometimes they will burn the body and keep the ashes, especially if the person was of high importance.” He paused, then asked, “Does that help explain it at all, Shale?”
“So you are saying that if something happens to it, it will expect me to dig a hole and bury it in the ground?”
“Well, I certainly hope not! I think we would all prefer to live,” Alistair said, perhaps regretting the conversation. “but technically, yes. Eventually, we will die and someone will take care of our… remains.”
“Anyways,” I said, changing the subject, “Now that we have you with us, Shale, we should probably let you know our plans.”
“If it feels this is necessary, then I will listen… for now.” | da07627911054e37beabf3cb9d53ccaf | ['7da2f29e39234deca926925832149d4b'] | “Darkspawn?! Is that the only thing you Grey Wardens think about these days? What about the good old obsessions? Breasts, firm buttocks, hot sex…”
“Mmm… hot sex…”
I smirked at Alistair. “Down, boy.”
Isabela laughed again. “Now, wasn't there something else you wanted from me? A lesson, perhaps?”
“Yes, please. Never hurts to learn something new.”
“Indeed. Come, let’s head back here. We will need some space for this…”
It was full-on dark when we finally made our way back towards the Gnawed Noble, Alistair briefly pulled me aside. “So… care to explain what got into you back there?”
“Got… into me?” I flirted innocently. I then pulled him closer. “Well, you did, for starters…”
Alistair groaned. “You know what I mean. You, me, and Isabela?” He glanced around nervously, making sure no one was looking at us. Cheeks pink, he then quietly said, “It was... incredibly erotic and exciting... but…”
“Oh, you are wondering if that will happen again?” He nodded quickly and I gave a gentle smile. “No, love. I think it was just a one-time, momentarily curious thing. There was just something about her…”
“She was quite pretty, I’ll agree,” he murmured. “But I much prefer _ you _ all to myself.” He gave me a gentle kiss. “Call me selfish, but I really don’t want to share you… even with another woman.”
“We probably won’t ever see her again.”
He put his arm around me and gave me a quick hug. “You are probably right.”
"I will say though, some of the things we did back there in her cabin... I _ really _ enjoyed it."
"Mmm, I did as well, my love." Alistair was quiet for a moment, then murmured in a husky voice, "Think you might want to try some of it again? Upstairs?"
I reached into the pocket of my robe and pulled out a small linen handkerchief tied with a ribbon.
"What's that?" Ali asked.
"Oh, just a little bit of that special herb that we shared earlier..."
With a lusty grin, Ali grabbed my hand and pulled me after him as he ran as fast as he could back to our room.
**Author's Note:**
> Just in case anyone was wondering, my interpretation of languages in Thedas (for fun)... and their Earth counterpart...
>
> Orlais - French
> Antiva - Spanish
> Rivain - Portugese |
e002beacee67489ea77b385b9c720592 | ['7daa570be82747f9a5e3cdbb343a8ca9'] |
love like the stars (you are my universe)
**Author's Note:**
> i'm very anxious about posting this work. very anxious, indeed.
> mainly because i've been writing this work sentence by sentence for about ... six months. i'm serious; i'd open my google document, type one sentence after mulling it over all day, and then work on something else. that said, this fic, and it's accompanying universe, is special to me. it's bittersweet and that's my favorite kind of writing style. i like how it holds the love that reflects in most vmin fics, but the sadness of knowing that their love works against them.
**and if you are to love,**
**love as the moon loves;**
**it does not steal the night,**
**it only unveils the beauty**
**of the dark.**
_[isra al-tibeh]_
* * *
There is something bittersweet about silence. It washes gently over the empty gap between speech, either leaving a puddle of what could have been, what was missing now that they were gone, and how much it hurts, or a lake of appreciation for the way his eyes glitter brighter than her ones ever did. And sometimes, this shore, covered in sand littered with pebbles, while the ocean of emptiness laps at it gently, leaks from the corners of dreams and makes damp the bed they share.
As if the stars were only inches above them, Jimin reaches his fingers out to the ceiling. His eyes are half-lidded, his face delicately illuminated by the nighttime glow slipping through the gap in the curtains. His mouth - soft and the source of the smiles and jokes that brighten the day - curves upwards in a slight smile, content with the arms wrapped around him, the body curled around his own. On his shoulders, the white shirt he sleeps in slips down and pools on the mattress around him, the left sleeve catching on the pillowcase. He is beautiful.
Next to him, with drool lingering on the corner of his mouth and sticky tear-tracks glinting in the faint light, is Taehyung. His fingers are curled around the fabric of Jimin's shirt as he sleeps, either subconsciously holding onto Jimin and their delicate relationship, or in the knowledge that his entire world could be gone if he lets go. Despite his recent shower, eye make-up is clinging to his lashes, the way it often does if you don't remember to wash it quite right. He looks ethereal in the darkness.
Not wanting to be too intrusive, or too force his way around him too roughly, Jimin tangles his hands in Taehyung's messy bed hair as gently as he possibly can, trying not to wake him but making sure he knows that Jimin is still right there next to him. Before he succumbed to sleep, the younger had looked at him with glassy eyes, tears still evident on his face, and made him promise not to leave without him. They need each other more than the fox needs the cover of darkness, or the ink needs the page.
Still, the entire scenario is all so wrong.
By day, Jimin is a dancer and singer, maneuvering around difficult turns and hitting high notes. His other members talk to him, about how he's enjoying the choreography, and what kind of food he wants to eat for lunch, and how is his girlfriend. And he nods and smiles but he knows for a fact that the nights he doesn't spend with her are spent with him instead.
Deep in sleep, Taehyung sniffles. Jimin runs his hand through his hair with more intent. "You're so beautiful." And he is.
Taehyung is a strange kind of wonderful. He is a bright fireworks display on a Winter's night, blue and orange and red and pink and white, glowing and exploding and reflecting in the eyes of those who choose to watch, and with him he carries a bag of gunpowder, ready to go off whenever he is called upon to do so. At the same time, he is a physical manifestation of what the word 'poetry' looks like. His eyes are shiny and vacant but also full, his lips are frowning when he smiles, his hands are together even when they hang limp by his sides, and his chest falls when it rises. A moving contradiction of what it means to be beautiful.
Beauty is subjective of course - and Jimin is biased - but looking at Taehyung, _really_ looking, he can see why so many people, all over the world, feel his beauty too. Each aspect of his being, from his legs to his ears, are fit together in harmony, like a musical piece. He is a musical piece. Jimin wrote Lie about Taehyung and how much it hurts.
Not that anyone knows, obviously, because he's much too good at keeping secrets and abstaining from blurting out what lingers in his mind. He can't imagine the ensuing isolation he'd receive from the others if they knew about these late-night moments of passing silence, curled up under the blankets after checking for hidden cameras with his entire universe breathing steadily beside him. Not because they'd be disgusted by their love, but because they'd be disgusted that Jimin never mentioned it. Never said, 'I love him'.
Down his cheek, a single tear slips and runs down the length of his face until it hangs on his chin. He wonders whether he cries as prettily as Taehyung, who looks delicate even when his words turn into choking. He can shelter him, he knows he can.
Around them, the bedroom is messy. Clothes and towels and books are scattered across the floor, a mess, but it fits. | c948c7072466416a9af505e317d57cad | ['7daa570be82747f9a5e3cdbb343a8ca9'] |
Purge
**Author's Note:**
> trigger warning my loves!! eating disorder tw
It starts very casually. Almost like it had always, always been that way. Maybe it had.
Jimin strolls past the kitchen, the sounds of Yoongi and Jungkook milling about inside, making dinner, filling the air. It’s a cosy evening; the heating is on, most of them are wrapped up in cosy jumpers, and Namjoon had come back from the studio with cookies. While the others had eagerly accepted the treats - they try their best to eat healthily, but sometimes it makes cravings for junk food much, much worse - the bustling around had allowed Jimin to escape.
He could have been honest. It isn’t unheard of for them to diet, and he’s sure that the others would have been understanding, but something in his head was urging him to be secretive. He worried that if he revealed his new diet, the others would try to stop him.
For now, he’s busying himself with his phone, looking through his photos.
There are hundreds of them. Some of them are him and Taehyung, on dates, or simply spending time together. There are photos of them on trips, and secret photos of Jungkook’s puffy morning eyes and Seokjin’s bed hair. He’s got photos of Hoseok when he’s dancing, and Yoongi passed out on the couch. There are even snapshots of Namjoon working in his studio, headphones on, too focused to notice Jimin coming through the door.
Normally, looking through the photos would cheer him up, but right now they’re bringing his mood down. He wants to delete the pictures where he’s present, especially ones where they’re at company dinners or brunch, but he knows that he can’t. Despite hating himself for being there, he doesn’t want to let go of the memories.
He rubs his thumb up and down along the side of his phone, feeling the sound buttons beneath his finger. Dinner, he hopes, will not be too extravagant. He’s been doing so well recently, exercising every single day in addition to dance.
Jungkook flops down on the cushions next to him, and Jimin presses the power button on his phone, sliding it into the pocket of his sweatpants. He wasn’t given permission to take some of those photographs.
“I've been kicked out of the kitchen,” Jungkook complains, flinging an arm across his face. He tries not to, but Jimin can’t help but be jealous of his junior. If he was naturally more muscular, like Jungkook or Jin, he’d be happier weighing more. Unfortunately, his genetics dictate that the weight he gains sits on him more like baby fat. “Yoongi-hyung says I’m not listening to him.”
The TV flickers in the background, a gentle reminder of where he is. Jimin fakes a smile. “What were you making?”
Jungkook frowns. “Um, I’m not actually sure. I just did what he told me. Kind of.”
Anxiety rolls over Jimin like a wave. He fusses with the sleeves of his jumper, trying to shake off the dread in the pit of his stomach. He can’t remember when this fear began. He must of been in middle school, because that’s when his dance teachers became more strict about their appearances. A cold flush hits him and he jerks upright, jumping off of the couch like he’d been burned.
Luckily, Jungkook rarely needs an explanation. He barely looks as Jimin rushes out of the room, wringing his hands together like he was trying to squeeze all the water from a cloth.
He’s so afraid, but of what? Gaining weight? Possibly. Sometimes, he feels normal, and he can eat a full meal (maybe a little more). It’s only afterwards that the crushing guilt hits him. On those days, he ends up doing a hundred push-ups in the dim light of his bedroom, two-hundred jumping jacks if he’s not feeling better even after all of that.
Right now, though, he needs to see what he’s allowed. What his diet permits him to eat.
He flicks through the pages of his notebook, ignoring the red pen that circles failures. Messy, almost illegible handwriting stares back at him, most of it scribbled in under the dim lights of music show bathrooms. Some of the ink is in splotches, where tears have dripped onto the pages. Failures happen too often, and he feels sick.
Today’s page is empty. He’s supposed to be fasting - he tries to fast for two days every week - but he knows that he can’t.
The red pen scratches onto the paper, an angry reminder that he should be doing better. After all, he’s had every chance to rectify his greediness.
An idea hits him.
He writes down his idea, and he feels some of the weight on his shoulders lifting. It’s dangerous, yes, but it’s effective. Anything he can do to fix this, he will do without hesitation. It’s only a diet, after all.
The sound of Taehyung calling everyone to dinner rings through the dorm. Jimin closes his notebook, and slips it back underneath his mattress, making sure the pen has dried properly. As he steps into the hallway, he feels lighter. His steps are gentle as he pads across the floor, and there’s a smile on his face. Things are really looking up.
He’s greeted by the others, and handed a plate of warm food. Some kind of kimbap dish - it’s probably made of leftovers - and Jimin sits down, settling his hands delicately either side of his meal.
“Eat it while it’s hot, Jimin,” Seokjin chides, setting Jungkook’s dinner in front of him, his hand lingering on the younger’s shoulder. “Yoongi worked hard on this… concoction.”
Beside him, Yoongi squawks indignantly.
Maybe Jimin goes back for a second helping. He’s feeling relaxed, so he barely thinks when he adds more to his plate. It’ll be fine, because there is always a solution.
Underneath his mattress, his notebook sits. The red pen’s message is sitting in the forefront of Jimin’s mind as he eats.
‘Purge’ it says.
And, of course, whatever the notebook says, goes. |
351004a10b4d46a8a9590a548bfca80e | ['7dc9c65fbe0d46a193d4a38bb8f5c11f'] | The Bogart
**Author's Note:**
> I don't know what Phil is afraid of, so I made it up.
"Dan, c'mon, we'll be late for Defense Against The Dark Arts!" Phil whined, pulling Dan along the corridor by the wrist.
"I know, but I heard we'd be working with a bogart today and I'm scared at what it'll take the shape of." Dan replied faintly.
"Aww, don't worry, love, you'll do fine. I mean, the only thing it'll take the shape of is a giant moth, right?" Phil joked.
Dan gazed down at the floor. "Yeah, totally..." They entered the class room and joined their fellow students when the teacher walked into the room.
"Alright class, some of you already know what we shall be doing today. We'll be using spells to rid of bogarts." The teacher said. "Now, when facing the creature, just point your wand at it and say 'Riddikulus' while imagining it into a harmless form. Now, who wants to go first?"
Phil jumped up quickly, his yellow and orange tie hitting him in the face. "I'll do it!" He cried.
"Alright then Mr. Lester. Let's begin." The teacher said. Phil walked up to the shaking cupboard. "Are you ready?" The teacher asked. Phil nodded and she opened the door. A giant, hairy spider crawled out of the cupboard. From where Dan was sitting, Phil seemed frozen in fear.
"C'mon man, it's just a spider!" Dan yelled. That shook Phil awake and he pointed his oak wand at the arachnid. "Riddikulus!" He yelled, and the spider turned into a fake plastic copy of its former self, making everyone giggle, including Dan. Phil was applauded and sat back down.
Dan didn't go until he was the last one up. "Let's go, Daniel, it's your turn." The teacher said. Dan hesitantly stood up. What would his worst fear be? Moths? The unknown? That creepy bear costume he saw at a pizza place that one time?
But all of that was erased once he stepped up to the bogart.
"Hello Dan." The bogart-Phil said. "W-What?" Dan stumbled. Phil was his worst fear? That couldn't be true. Phil was his boyfriend, his best friend. He couldn't be his worst fear.
"Oh Dan, you look at me with shock, but you know why I'm here. Because you're a dirty little brat, who doesn't deserve me. You're pathetic, you really are. You've wasted SO MUCH of my time. I could've been at the top of my class, I could've been a successful linguist. But you keep holding me back. Dan, you disgust me."
Tears were streaming down Dan's pale cheeks. Phil wouldn't say this, of course not. Phil is a living sunshine, and he loves me, right? Of course he does, Dan, get yourself together.
"Riddikulus..." He feebly mumbles out.
Bogart-Phil laughed. "You think you can get away from me, Dan? You can never get away from the pain of what you have done. As I said you disg-"
"RIDDUKULUS!" Dan screamed at the bogart-Phil, who evaporated into dust with a cry. Dan collapsed onto the floor and sobbed. He felt a body press against his own. He looked up and saw Phil's tear stained face looking down at him. "Oh Dan, you're not holding me back. I like it where I am, with you by my side." "Thanks Phil," Dan smiled as he leaned up for a kiss.
Fiń | dc8f1cc3d5374282bb152dbd62489776 | ['7dc9c65fbe0d46a193d4a38bb8f5c11f'] |
And I Care What You Think...
**Author's Note:**
> Ok so the story takes place in New York City (since I know it best) and I hope you guys enjoy it!
As the dawn reigned onto New York as the sun slowly made its crawl across the huge city.
The plane was finally setting down at JFK airport as the woman sitting next to Tyler laughed at the in-flight movie a bit too loud.
**Oh come on Ty… Don’t take anything from her… Just snap her neck… It’s so easy…**
“Stop it stop it stop it stop it…” Tyler muttered at the voice in his head.
“This is a new start for me. I can’t screw this up…” he mumbled as a passing French flight attendant gave him a weird look.
The plane finally landed and Tyler left the metal bird, making his way to the baggage claim. It took him a while to find his suitcase, and the two year old standing with their parents, crying its heart out, made it even harder to concentrate. But he finally found the midnight blue case, and made his way through customs, check in, and finally out through the door into the cold New York wind, which chilled his small frame to the bone.
He eventually hailed a sickly green taxi, which he told to take him to the hotel he’d be staying at.
The trip was long and boring, and the total trip fare didn’t help Tyler’s anxiety on spending money.
The hotel was nice, overall. The tall black building loomed overhead with a friendly sign at the door, beckoning him inside.
**Aww, how nice. Do you really think you deserve all these luxuries? Especially after what you did?**
Tyler didn’t respond. He didn’t want his first memories in America to be of people thinking he was insane. Well, he was, but he didn’t want anyone else to know that. Especially any future love interests, **who eventually he could rip apar-** _Goddammit not again, Blurryface._
His own personal demon: Blurryface, who had been haunting him ever since he was a child. But only Tyler could see or hear him, so all of his friends and family didn’t believe him when he said there was a shadowy figure following him around, begging him to kill the people he met. But Tyler had always had him under check. Except for the time he didn’t, but he never remembered those times. All he remembered was blacking out, and waking up some days later covered in blood next to dead bodies. The first time it happened he was mortified. He could barely stand up. The next time the police almost caught him. He was in only his underwear, covered in blood terrified to get caught, especially with the shrill sirens approaching rapidly. While on the run and go he almost ran right into an officer, but thankfully a K9 was barking at a tree some feet away, so the officer never spotted him. There were more times this happened, and Tyler did try to stop it, but it just kept happening.
Back at the present, Tyler had just crashed into the soft bed, thankful for a quick nap. He didn’t know what he was going to be doing here. He had heard that America was a good place for people who want a pretty good life, even if they have a few weird rules. And forging documents wouldn’t be too hard either, he’d just call in a few favors from his friends back home. He could get a nice job at some boring company, just to make sure he fitted right in with the boring crowd. He’d also make sure to have the blandest life ever, making sure to keep up a “cutesy little innocent boy” image to make sure no one suspected it was him. No one back home knew it was him, right?
**Of course they know it’s you, you fucknut. Who wouldn't remember a man like you brutally mutilating their family, friends, and not to mention themselves?**
_Shut up, asshole. Don’t talk to me._ Tyler thought. It was hard to keep him out of his head, even if that was his permanent residence. But Blurryface would have to wait for tomorrow.
The sun dawned in again. It was almost 10:30 before Tyler finally woke up; checking his phone for any notifications, to which there were none.
Actually, there was one, from a very old friend _. Hey Ty I heard u were in NY. Wanna come hang with me? I'll txt u my address_
The message was apparently from an unsaved number that Tyler didn't know.
**Tyler: Hey who is this?**
_Unknown: It's Aidrian, remember? From the asylum? Don't tell me you've forgotten me already!_
**Tyler: Oh ok :D sorry dude I've been really busy lately so I apologize**
_Aidrian: Nah bro it's k. So you wanna hang sometime?_
**Tyler: Sure, I guess. I'm a little busy since I just got here.**
**Tyler: hey, how did you know I was here?**
_Aidrian: I have my ways ;)_
**Tyler: whatever. Just gimme a bit to settle in. k?**
_Aidrian: alright. Happy travels!_
Tyler put his phone down. He was in America now, the land of the free and brave. He's heard a lot of strange things about big citys like New York, and some of the rumors weren't so nice, but he could probably handle them. So he decided to call in those favors.
The next few hours were spent making many, many phone calls, most of which were for forged documents like social service and financial aid etc.
It was finally 6pm when Tyler noticed he'd spent almost the whole day in his hotel room. Not that he cared very much, he didn't want anyone near him in case of Blurryface, who was being almost suspiciously quiet. But he picked up his phone again and texted Aidrian once more.
_Tyler: hey dude you still open for hanging?_ |
6fe34000dfe84c7ba32cf08da01a9ffb | ['7dcd982b2a244403a001c9b9ec69e0c9'] |
One way to come out of the closet
**Author's Note:**
> So, most of these are trades like I said. I... really don't like Cody... sorry! Not only that, but I REALLY don't like him being in my stories, so, while my trader was always happy with my work, he was annoyed about one thing: Instead of just not being there, I would always go out of my way to say "Everyone except Cody was there..." and that bothered him. So this story started the running joke that I say "Everyone except Cody" but then he shows up. XD. (But I'm posting these out of order, so there might still be a 'everyone except Cody' show up, where he doesn't show up.)
“So when are we going to meet this... girlfriend of yours?” Matt asked, hesitantly. TK didn't notice the pause, however. He was too nervous as it was, with the subject.
All of the Digidestened except Cody were out to dinner, near the college most of them went to, and they were all curious too, which was apparent by the way they were now staring at TK.
TK had been dating Joe for a while now, and things were going well for them, but TK wasn't ready to tell Matt about that yet.
“S-she's really busy, with college... her college is across town and...”
“But you manage to see her.” Matt interjected. “So you could spend a few minutes introducing her, or If you go over there, I could take my own car and meet her with you, and then go home.”
TK was about to make up an excuse, when another joined their party.
“Hey, Cody!” TK said, happy for a distraction. “We weren't expecting you to be able to join us.”
Cody nodded. “No Kendo today, so I thought I would get a burger and hang out with you guys.”
The distraction didn't take though, and the attention was right back on TK.
“What's her name?” Matt asked, curiously.
TK's eyes went wide, He had to think of a girls name quickly. Josephine popped into his head, but he decided it was too close to Joe. It was taking too long, he knew Matt would get suspicious... for some reason, he thought of Joe's older brother, Jim. But he didn't know why, that didn't help... but then it hit him.
“KIM!” TK replied, more frantic than he meant to. “Her name is Kim.”
A weird smile formed on Matt's face, but TK couldn't figure out what it meant.
“Well, I can't wait to meet her.” Matt said, with a nod.
“O-okay, I'll try and set something up soon.”
Joe sighed, at the other end of the table.
“I'm sorry guys.” Joe said. “I have to go.”
Izzy looked over at him, concerned. “But I thought we all said we didn't have anything to do today?”
“Yeah!” Davis chimed in. “That's why we picked today!”
Joe nodded with a sad smile. “I just got a text from my dad, and he said he needs to see me.”
“Is he okay?” TK almost yelled, freaking out.
Joe held his hands up. “He's fine, he just wants my opinion on a family thing. I promise there's nothing to worry about.”
TK sighed in relief.
"See you all later," Joe said to the group, who says their good-byes and wishes him good luck.
Matt looked back at his brother. “So about this girl...”
XxXxXxX
After another hour or so of hanging out with his friends, TK headed back to his apartment. When he walked inside, he was surprised to see Joe, sitting on his couch. He wasn't disappointed to see him, and Joe had his spare key, but he just expected him to be with his family.
“Hey Joe. Done with your family already?” TK said, walking in and sitting beside him.
Joe gave him a kiss on the cheek before sighing. “I never got a text from my family tonight.”
TK blinked. “Oh? So... why did you say you did?”
Joe looked down. “I just... couldn't stand to hear you talk about your girlfriend anymore.”
TK put his arm around Joe. “I'm sorry. I know you want me to come out...”
“I'm just tired of hiding.” Joe said, sliding over, and pulling TK into a hug. “I don't think Matt would think any less of you. He's never really given us any indication he was homophobic, and I've got all those scientific studies I can show him.”
TK sighed, hugging Joe tighter. “You're so lucky that you come from a family of doctors. You weren't scared at all to come out. They knew the facts, and didn't judge you. Matt though... he's much more emotional. You know how he gets, you've seen it first hand.”
Joe stiffened as he was reminded of working at the restaurant with Matt, who thought he was messing up on purpose.
He didn't think TK really processed all that went on there, or was ever really told the full story. He was positive TK was thinking about the times Matt and Tai butted heads, but TK was right: Joe really did know first hand.
“Trust me, I know how difficult Matt can be.” Joe said, relaxing the hug a little. “But I just hate the secrets. What if... What If I just came out to the group first, and left you out of it, and just see how he and everyone else reacts?”
TK kissed Joe passionately. Joe was surprised, but kissed him back. After a few more moments, TK broke the kiss, and hugged Joe tightly.
“I can't believe you'd do that for me. I am so lucky to have you.” TK said, trying not to cry. “But no, I won't do that to you. I-I'll come out to him.”
“No.” Joe said, pulling TK back and looking into his eyes. “WE will.”
TK kissed him again. “Thank you. Tomorrow? Around lunch?”
Joe nodded. “Call him.” | 097b23b16880459986f391dd85324297 | ['7dcd982b2a244403a001c9b9ec69e0c9'] | Takato didn't sit down yet though. “Would you like something to drink?”
Azuma smiled, and nodded politely. “Sure! Whatever you have.”
Takato went back behind the counter and poured them both a cup of tea he had been preparing for when he closed.
“So um...” Takato said, trying to think of what to say. “What brings you to Shinjuku?”
Azuma looked away, as he fidgeted with his cup. He was there because he read Takato's dating profile. But he didn't want to make things more awkward.
“I was in the area and thought I would check the place out. I'm glad I did. I think I made a new friend.”
Takato was in disbelief. Azuma Kazuma? A friend? He tried to stay calm, as the thought of them hanging out, swapping recipes crept into his head. So he nodded, with a smile.
“How are things at Pantasia?” Takato asked, curiously.
“Good!” Azuma was still taken off guard sometimes, when strangers asked questions related to his life. But he was famous. He was starting to get used to it. “They still try and get me to go to the main branch, but I won't leave Manager, Kawachi, or Tsukino.”
Somewhere in southern Tokyo, a man with a mushroom hea d felt a cold chill of being forgotten.
Takato smiled. “Yeah, you want to stay with Tsukino. Makes sense.”
Asuma looked confused. “Why do you say it like that?”
Takato continued to grin. “Oh come on! It's all over the papers! You two are together!”
“WHAT WAS THAT?!” Azuma said, before covering his mouth. 'I'm turning into Kawachi...'. Azuma coughed, and calmed down. “No, we are just friends. Actually...”
Azuma hesitated. He usually wouldn't share this with anyone, but since he wasn't going to bring up the dating profile, he decided it was a good way to bring up the subject....
“Actually... Kawachi is the one I had a crush on...”
Takato's ears perked up. “Oh?”
“Yeah... but I knew he wasn't interested in me that way. As for me and Tsukino, I don't know why the media insists we are together, but, we have never been anything more than friends.” Azuma looked down, an ashamed look coming on his face.
“Actually...” Azuma started, but then stopped. “Nah, never mind. I'm sure you aren't interested.” He said, taking a drink of tea.
“No no!” Takato said with a smile. “I'd like to hear it.”
Azuma nodded. “When we were younger, it turns out I led her on a little bit, and didn't even realize it. She doesn't hold a grudge. She knows I didn't mean to lead her on. I just wasn't thinking about the possibility she would like me. I thought we were just friends. But I would say things like, “Go out with me!” but what I meant, was “Go to the store with me to buy bread supplies.... man, telling that story out loud really must make me seem like an ass.”
“No no!” Takato said, being brave, and reaching out, putting his hand over Azuma's. “I know how you feel. I had a friend exactly like that. I never liked her more than a friend but she was going through a lot. Her mom died when she was really young, and she had a hard time adjusting. Then her partner- I mean! Her pet.... Leo... died, and that just kind of broke her again, and she went into this deep dark depression. I kind of went above and beyond to pull her out of it, and she took that as more than it was. I would have done anything for any of my friends. So I feel so bad that she misunderstood my feelings. Luckily she is with someone now, and happy. But I still feel bad sometimes, so I know how that feels.”
Azuma nodded, liking the cool feeling of Takato's hands over his.
“Man...” Takato started, “Your hands are warm- OH YEAH!! SOLAR HANDS!!!”
“Yeah! That's my secret to my bread!”
Takato was really enjoying his time with Azuma. He was sure he hadn't smiled so much in a long time. He wondered if he should take a chance... But first he had one other thing to ask.
“So what's with the box?” Takato asked, curiously.
“Oh, you know. It's almost Halloween. I was getting some decorations to hang for the store. But you know, maybe I could help you hang them here.”
Takato wasn't much into Halloween, but offering to decorate? He wasn't missing that signal.
“Sounds good. But for now... would you like to go out?”
“You mean... for bread supplies?” Azuma asked, hesitantly.
“No no!” Takato said, with a giggle, standing up. “Nah, just to get some dinner.”
Azuma stood up too. “Sounds good!”
And with that, they went out to dinner, to see where this new relationship would go.
Takato made a mental note to delete the dating profile when he got home.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
“I'm here!” Azuma said as he walked in the bakery, with a huge box.
“Just in time to close up.” Takato said, walking towards him, giving him a quick kiss, before locking the door.
Azuma put the box on the counter, before turning around, to be greeted with a hug from Takato.
“Happy one month anniversary!” Takato said, softly in his ear.
“Happy anniversary!” Azuma said back happily. Both of them couldn't believe how good things were going. But, they were both nervous. They both knew that this was... the night.
Takato looked down at the box on the table.
“What's in the box? An anniversary present?”
Azuma grimaced, having not thought about bringing a present. But he hoped this was enough.
“Not really but... I thought I could help you decorate for Christmas!” Azuma said as he opened the box.
Takato just smiled, even though it was way to early to decorate for Christmas. But it seemed to make Azuma happy. “You sure like decorating.” |
2dc082e18e894ec3b718519b4e2593a6 | ['7dd65017bd614b92b4ef772f0fe1a709'] | Her eyes are on Finn, bright with wonder, lips curved in a kind of incredulity he’s never seen before.
Poe opens his mouth to refute her, to tell her that Finn had seen plenty of others before her, regardless of who or what they had been raised to become. But when he thinks on it further, he realises that Finn had been raised in a world of faceless numbers, of black eyed and sharp voiced masters, a world where recalcitrance was conditioned out of them, where emotion was substituted for marksmanship. His whole body shivers and sickens as he realises precisely what Rey means.
“A privilege,” comes his response, in the wake of the images that just flooded his mind. And then he repeats it, more firmly, proudly -- _a privilege_.
-
Finn takes another month to wake. When he does, the tears come thick and salty and fast, wetting each others shoulders as they clinch their bodies tight.
In the month it takes, their orbits intersect countlessly, Rey drawn to Finn and Poe drawn to Finn and then, without warning, Poe drawn to Rey and Rey, hesitantly and anxiously, drawn to Poe.
He still slips up, still: once joked about her arm coverings and the frequency with which she wears her clothes from Jakku, wondered aloud why she doesn’t visit the lakes to blow off steam with the rest of the resistance members, accidentally offers her his type of meal when she misses mess, forgetting that her tastes are still simple and felt a pang of guilt as soon as she spat it back onto the plate. But then, she is not the only person with weak spots and there are parts of him that she uncovers accidentally. She mentioned that she had never known her mother, and he winced because he had known his own, because she could not come back, because in the dead of night when only his shadow kept him company, he had selfishly wondered if the pain would have eased quicker had he never known her in the first place. Rey had talked of home, too, of Jakku, and the very word seemed to cause him to become smaller. He thinks of it in terms of binaries -- of good and bad, of the tree that he had grown up under, of the Empire’s frequent and crippling attacks, of her face and her smile and the hole she had left in him. And so they consider themselves equal: haunted and hurting and healing and all at once.
Finn takes a month to wake, and when he does, he’s greeted by a feast. He’s greeted by the general, by pilots who have listened to Poe’s enamored ramblings in raptures, greeted by a girl with her hair in three knots and a boy with a jacket with a messy, stitched up seam running through its spine that he hands to him, his palms sweaty, his throat tight but managing to get out the word _buddy_ before he starts to cry.
-
They have come to the conclusion, slowly, and together, that they will never be fully healed. Rey strips back her arm coverings for them one night, shows them the scratches dug into her flesh from years of metal and sand, tells them of wreckaged spaceships, of a wreckaged heart. Poe speaks her name: _Shara Bey_ , and tells the two of them, who do not know, what it was like to have a mother, even for the most fleeting of moments. And Finn just holds them close. Later touching, exploring, learning that a body in not a weapon, feeling the heat of flesh, the ache of proximity.
They wake, constantly, in the night, to the point where sometimes it’s hopeless even wishing for sleep -- but they are whole, they are human, and when they do find themselves sleepless, or jerking with a start, they are not alone. One of them will pull the other towards them, a warm arm wrapping around their body, tugging them closer.
And it reminds them, each time, that here is a place that they are allowed to make their home. | 0cbfc0b449f34bfe9abac3cf15ed382f | ['7dd65017bd614b92b4ef772f0fe1a709'] | moonlight making crosses on your body, and me putting my mouth on every one
They pay their debts to each other via invitations.
He is grateful for the red hair, tossed daringly around; the eyebrows raised in a childish wickedness that suggests trouble; the clenched fist and the clutched hand and the refusal to ever call a place home. To her, that suggests a type of permanence that terrifies her even more than lurking monsters in creeping shadows.
And so he invites her to cut ties and forget the very word home and make the universe their kingdom, with their crowns made from stolen stars plucked from their favourite view of the night sky. She is grateful for the lack of English village and endless days and being told that she should be a proper lady with a proper job.
(As if proper was something she ever aspired to be.)
Her invitations are the subtle, sultry kind: a twist of her hips, a pout of her lips and a slight slip in her expression as she dances across the boundries that she knows he's set in his mind. She invites him to smudge her lipstick and tangle his fingers in her hair and trace her freckled skin in the patterns of the constellations that he loves nearly as dearly as her. She invites him to love her but oh, _that's a challenge_ and that's a challenge that only a fool could partake in. But he is a fool. A fumbling fool. A fumbling fool with a stolen heart, lost somewhere between apples with carved faces and the word _gotcha_.
_Got you,_ she mumbles, her mouth resting at the nape of his neck as he sucks at her collarbone.
And she has, she has, she has. She can only run as fast as her fragile human body can take her and the idea of painting planets into existence onto the blank canvas he gifts to her is terrifying, is impossible. Infinity frightens her. Home frightens her. But this, the soft ache and inescapable need to be near him, that does not.
It terrifies him.
It terrifies him how both his hearts have become so tangled up in the life of one impossible, mad, magnificent woman. The whole of the universe, the blood stains on his hands, the weight of destroyed worlds on his shoulders and all she lets him focus on is her mouth on his. I'm a murderer, he wants to say. And she'll kiss him. I stole you away, he wants to say. And she'll kiss him. I'll lose you, he wants to say. And she'll pause, refusing to want to ever accept that.
And so she'll kiss him. |
e8868e2a9f99453f8ea0b82663a93d59 | ['7de305bcc4684bbfa1bbdb3e15a747d0'] | The crowd was already forming as Erik arrived. It was the only entertainment most of the prisoner’s ever saw, seeing the King beat down some unlucky newcomer. Erik had his own plans, of course. He’d conspired with his comrades, ensuring that they were in the crowd, strategically placed to intervene if necessary. This was no longer a personal battle. It was a war.
N’Jadaka crept forward, careful to stay in the King’s blindspot as he showboated for the crowd, “Here, I am King! Me! No other!”
The King raised his massive fist to land his first blow on his unlucky victim. He didn’t notice N’Jadaka on his flank, but the crowd did. A gasp and a shout rang out, but it was too late. Erik has seized the King’s arm, and threw the momentum of it back on itself, toppling the King over onto the ground.
“No kings, no masters,” Erik muttered to himself. He was almost detached from the violence. It was perfunctory, professional. Still, he couldn’t help throwing in a bit of gloating.
He knelt in the dirt by the King’s head, seizing him by the neck and muttering so that only the larger man could hear, “My cousin taught me a lesson. Imma teach it to _ you _ now. _ You shoulda killed me when you had the chance. _ ”
The King grunted and strained as N’Jadaka wrapped his arms around the larger man’s head in a half-nelson, but it was to no avail. With a deft twist of his arms, there was a sickening crack as the King’s neck broke in N’Jadaka’s arms.
Erik pulled himself to his feet, letting the “King‘s” body fall into the dust and dirt. There was dead silence in the crowd that had gathered around them. N’Jadaka fixed his comrades with a steely glare, then he laughed. A hollow, echoing noise, dripping with bitterness, with suffering.
“Ya’ll might think you’re looking at a king. I ain’t a king.” He shook his head as he chuckled.
“I ain’t your Messiah. I ain’t your king. I can’t free you, anymore than he could. All I can do is ask you to _ recognize _ what we could do together. As one. I can’t break your chains. All I can do is hand you the spade, so you can free each other.”
A murmur ran through the crowd. Those who had already joined him knew that this was it, _ this was the signal _ . Now, the only question was whether the others would join, or stand in their way.
“It’s up to ya’ll. I can’t do this alone. Do you want to start a riot, or do you want to start a _ revolution? _ ”
He looked around to his gathered comrades, their faces, lit with hope. One raised his fist. Then another. A shout echoed from the back,
_ “REVOLUTION!” _
A call. Then another. And another. Soon, they were chanting it. Screaming it, their fists pumping in the air, banging the manacles around their wrists against one another.
The signal came down, and their wrists snapped together, pulled by the invisible attraction of vibranium. The switch had been flipped.
N’Jadaka smiled as the manacles locked around his legs, sending him tumbling into the dirt. It didn’t matter. Even if they locked him up, even if they killed him, they couldn’t kill this. The spark had been lit. There was no stopping it now. They were just getting started.
* * *
Shuri watched her cousin through the holoscreen. The recording showed him to be a bit more weathered than when she had last seen him. More scars. The resolution was grainy, she had to hunt through several layers of security to even get this footage. No one wanted this to get out. Still, her cousin’s final words echoed in her head.
_ “D’you want to start a riot, or do you want to start a revolution!?” _
He had changed, that was certain. He wasn’t the same egocentric, fascist, would-be king. No. His charisma remained, but the focus was changed. Directed outward. To others. Not self-aggrandizement.
With a flick of her wrist, she dismissed the screen, leaving behind only the window out of her office, looking down on the Oakland streets below. She sighed. Already a year, and so little had changed.
She had started with the best of hopes. Technology was like magic to her, it seemed to flow and contort to her whims. But it only went so far. She could teach youngsters to code, but their fathers were still locked up in prisons. She could teach them to be proud of who they were, where they came from, but the police still gunned them down in their streets.
“Less than lethal weaponry.” That had been her brother’s grand solution to police shootings in America. Wakandan technology, used to stun, shock, and capture young men. When the police even bothered to use it.
It was just one of many examples. Every bit of technology they shared, every bit of knowledge they hoped would be used wisely, was instead twisted by the colonizers. Used for their own dark ends, though usually with a happy sticker or euphemism attached.
They had meant to free their people. But here she was, her creations just causing them more suffering. Technology, alone, had no moral bearing. It could be used for good or ill. A hard lesson for her to learn, but it was one that Shuri was learning well.
Shuri used to fight, used to rage, throw things when she heard of the latest perversion of what she had helped build. Now, her anger grew cold. Charter schools and less-than-lethal weren’t enough. They would never be enough. And she would no longer be a part of the problem.
She flicked the beads around her wrist, calling up a secure channel through to Nakia, and spoke the words that would change history, “ _ I’m ready to join the revolution _ .” | 3d15a18272dc4ceb8a9420304e20aedd | ['7de305bcc4684bbfa1bbdb3e15a747d0'] |
1. Together
Rey hesitated.
“Rey. _Please_.” His tone was desperate. Almost pleading. “ _Join me_.”
They were both winded. The fight had taken its toll on both of them, but Ren was more experienced. He had the stamina. She needed time.
“And do what? Rebuild the Empire?” she spat back, surprised at the venom in her words, “You talk about letting the old world die, but you’re still clinging to it. A fantasy of who your grandfather was.”
His expression shifted, a look of confusion, shock. He hadn’t expected this. His thoughts raced. No. She’s wrong. This is the way it has to be. Isn’t it?
“N-no. I’d bury the First Order. The Empire. We’d make something new. Something better.” Ren stumbled over the words. She’d called his bluff.
Her expression softened a bit then, just around the corners of her mouth. Almost a smile. A sad smile. “You could have done it, you know. Accomplished what Vader never could. Build a galaxy free from hate. Free from war.”
“A galaxy free from oppression. Injustice.” He continued Rey’s thought. The fingers on his outstretched hand trembling.
Memories of her time on Jakku flashed in Rey’s mind. The daily, biting oppression. The starvation. The cruelty of greed and want and poverty. Had it not gone unchecked under the Republic? “Free from slavery. From inequality.”
With a soft click, she turned off her saber.
“It won’t be easy. We’ll have to fight.” The edge was still there, in his voice.
“We’ll have to negotiate. Persuade people. Inspire them to rise up.”
Ren nodded. “But we can do it. Together.”
At last, she took his hand in hers. “Together.”
2. Blade of the Union
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Months later, Kylo Ren, at Rey's direction, liberates the city of Canto Bight.
Canto Bight was burning. Ren walked through the city which had so lately been a shining symbol of the wealth, greed, and excess of both the Republic and Empire. A symbol of rotting continuation, a playground for the rich and powerful, unchanged, unmolested by decades of galactic strife. But that ended today.
Through smoke-filled streets, he could see the occasional blast of laser fire, hear the occasional shouts and groans of battle still being waged in back-alleys and through villas.
Rey’s plan had worked, of course. The populace, once inspired, had risen up, and with little more than aerial support and a few well-placed commando units, the Galactic Union had taken the city with surprisingly little force. The people of Canto Bight, the servants, the slaves, the downtrodden had taken back their city. Soon they would take back all of Cantonica.
“Report for you, sir.” A smartly-dressed Union commando flashed him a quick salute as he walked through the city streets. Her hair was a tangled mess, pulled back in a loose braid, wrapped around the cuff of her scouting helmet. Alva Rosso, wasn’t it? A local of Canto Bight, she’d been instrumental in planning the operation that had lately been so successful.
“What’s the report, Comrade?” Ren asked, returning her salute with one of his own. He still wasn’t used to the familiarity of these troops, but he supposed he’d have to get used to it, one way or another.
Her face broke into a toothy grin, “We’ve captured him, sir. The big prize. Ulfa Sorn. Some of the boys caught him trying to get away in a landspeeder. Lucky for us his chauffeur saw fit to short out the alignment matrix. Got about half a klick into the desert before the power converter gave out.”
Ren nodded approvingly. These commandos and their allies among the populace never failed to impress with their ingenuity. Sorn was captured. The city was theirs. It was time end this.
“Bring me to him,” Ren commanded. He caught himself, the imperious tone. Rey wouldn’t approve. “...comrade.”
Alva nodded. “Right this way, sir!” She gestured, a bit theatrically, to the bombed-out shell of a casino, it’s once-palatial grounds now peppered with fox-holes and smoking debris. She led Ren up the stairs, into the casino proper, glass crunching under boots.
Ulfa Sorn was held in the cashier’s booth, surrounded by stacks of now-worthless casino chips. _I suppose there’s_ _a poetic justice in that_ , Ren mused to himself. Alva nodded to two partisans standing guard at the makeshift stockade. They nodded back, unlocking the barred doors of the cashier’s box. There was the sound of a brief scuffle, then the two guards dragged Ulfa Sorn out by his arms onto the casino floor.
There was an echo of hooting jeers throughout the casino floor, as the partisans, rebels, and commandos who made up the Union’s forces gathered around. They sat on balconies and bar stools, stood on sabaac tables and broken slot machines, straining for a good seat to see how Kylo Ren would deal with their foe.
Sorn’s face was wrought with fury and anger, twisted in a piggish scowl as he was dragged before Ren. His finery was in tatters, still smudged with the dust and dirt of Cantonica’s desert. No doubt a product of his ill-fated attempt at escape.
“You’ll pay for this _Solo_ ,” Ulfa spat. “You and your whole damned Union. Kill me if you like, but you’ll never get another cruiser, fighter, or so much as a blaster out of Kuat-Entralla. You’ve made a powerful enemy here today-”
A shaking guffaw of laughter cut the corporatist off. The rebels jeered and laughed, apparently privy to some information. Ulfa’s brow writ in consternation. “What is so funny?! You think you can conquer the galaxy without our shipyards!?”
Kylo smiled. Here, again, was Rey’s genius at work.
“The workers and engineers of the Kuat Shipyards have decided to join the Galactic Union, Sorn. They have cast off their corp-sec overlords and confederated their own syndicate under our banner. The Ship Yards are quite operational, I assure you.”
The color drained from Sorn as he realized his final bargaining chip was spent. “W-wait. Just a moment. We can still come to terms, Ren. We served the First Order faithfully. I-I’m just a businessman! We can negotiate!"
Idly, Ren flicked the switch on his lightsaber. It crackled to life, the flickering blue light dancing across Sorn’s terrified features.
“You had your chance to negotiate with the Union Council. With Rey. With General Organa. You did not make use of that opportunity. You’re not contending with diplomats and politicians anymore, Sorn.”
As Ren raised his saber over his shoulder, the cheers of his soldiers and their allies intensified. Alva led a chant. Pumping her fist rhythmically over her head, as the call grew to a crescendo.
“BLADE OF THE UNION!” She called.
“BLADE OF THE UNION!” came the echoing, thundering reply.
_This was it_. Ren thought. A purpose. A drive. What Skywalker and Snoke had promised, Rey had delivered. Not as a servant, or as an apprentice, but as an equal. His path was set, and nothing would turn him from it.
To echoing cheers, he brought down his blade. Rey’s blade. Their blade. The Union's blade. |
cf2698d3ace54c9c89ffa1224e0cd9d7 | ['7deab10766774793a2f33ddad913f8ef'] |
1. Chapter 1
During the Blight, Solona Amell thought she found love. Morrigan had become her everything. She knew that the relationship would never be easy, that there would be fights, minor disagreements, as well as difficult conversations for both women. Yet nothing had prepared Solona for how things would end.
_“I know I ask a lot of you Solona, but let us at least have this last night together. I do not wish to see you die in the coming battle”_
_Solona was floored by what Morrigan had asked of her. To create a child with Morrigan did not bother her, it was the fact that she wished to disappear after the battle to raise their child alone. Solona starred at the near pained expression on Morrigan’s face. She was almost livid… Morrigan was so much to her… to ask her of this? She was unsure of how to even feel._
_“I… You wish to have a child with me and then just disappear! Morrigan…. How can you even ask me that?” Solona at this point resorted to pacing the room. “You’re just going to run away after all this is done? After everything-” Solona’s voice broke as she tried to will her lungs to breathe. She couldn’t handle this. She knew her and Morrigan could never have a normal relationship, but she hoped that it at the very least would not end._
_“I know this is a lot for you-” Morrigan began but was quickly cut off by a shout from Solona._
_“You don’t say Morrigan! I love you Morrigan! And you are asking me to help create a child with you that I will never see! That I will never get to know! And to not see you again… I do not know which is worse, that of which you ask, or to die tomorrow”_
_“You would rather waste your life tomorrow in a senseless death”, Morrigan hissed, “Then so be it, I wanted to give you a way out, to know that you would at least live to see another day”. Morrigan stood in an attempt to leave but Solona grabbed her elbow._
_“That is not what I am saying Morrigan. You are putting me in a tight spot, but know this; while I will take this deal to make a child with you, I will still fight to see them whether or not you like it”_
True to her word, Morrigan had fled after the fight with the Archdemon leaving Solona heartbroken. In the aftermath Solona had found herself confiding to Leliana about how she felt, of how angry she was with Morrigan, how she should have listened to Wynne when she said that it would end in heartbreak. Leliana listened her friend, trying to find a way to comfort her.
“Shhh, Solona, It was not a terrible thing to have loved Morrigan exactly. I believe for her, it was too much, not knowing what it is like to feel love for her like you did”
That didn’t exactly change the fact that Morrigan left, but Solona knew what Leliana meant. Morrigan had cursed the idea of love on a few different occasions, causing Solona to try either stay silent, or later try and defend that love is not so terrible.
“While it does not totally amend the fact that she left, know this Solona, you did leave an impression on Morrigan. I saw small changes in Morrigan over the course of your time together, how she became a little softer”, Leliana continued, “and I believe that had scared her as well”
Solona grappled with the words Leliana spoke. She knew the red-head was right about how scared Morrigan was about love, but Solona also wanted to be mad at Morrigan for how she left.
“You know,” Leliana began mirth in her voice, “this is a reversal of all the times we would typically talk in camp. Normally I had prattled endlessly about something while you would listen to me”. This got a laugh out of Solona.
“Like I said then, I will always listen when you need me, Leliana. And thank you”
“Of course mon amie”
2. Chapter 2
The next few weeks had been a blur for Solona. Alistair’s coronation was both a reprieve and an annoyance. Nobles sought after her asking question after question, praising her as the Hero of Ferelden when all she wanted was quiet. After she was officially named Warden-Commander of Ferelden, Alistair decided to name Solona the Arlessa of Amaranthine (which _ thrilled _ Solona to no end, payback really was a bitch), and that the wardens could use Vigil's Keep as a new base to regrow their numbers.
Solona finished packing the last of her items before she headed off for Vigil’s Keep as a knock sounded at her door. Without turning around Solona called out
“Come in”
The door opened and a red-headed woman peeked through, “I am glad I caught you before you left” she began as she closed the door behind her.
“You know I would have said something before I left Leli,” Solona stated.
Leliana cringed slightly at Solona’s words, reaching to lightly touch the woman’s shoulder. “Let me amend my statement, before the others would be there to interrupt”, she began, “I know you wouldn’t leave without saying something”.
Solona moved her hand to rest atop Leliana’s giving it a slight squeeze in reassurance. “It’s alright,” Solona began, but a wide grin quickly overtook her features “so what is i you needed me alone for?”
Leliana giggled and lightly shoved Solona. “You’re terrible. I came to make sure you were alright, it has been quite the week and who knows what state Vigil’s Keep could be in when you arrive” Leliana’s voice dropped as concern edged into her voice at the end.
“I… am honestly not sure” Solona huffed. “I’ve had a few thoughts about not taking Morrigan’s proposal so I wouldn’t have to deal with this” | 8fffc4a8f52a4d03986febfbabf99f40 | ['7deab10766774793a2f33ddad913f8ef'] | “Asking the hard question,” Neria chuckled as she rubbed the back of her neck, “pretty quickly... I’ve never felt that way about any guy, but I thought that maybe if I give myself time I could love you and we could be happy, but the feelings never did come. I can’t force myself to love someone I can’t, especially when they deserve happiness too” Neria answered. “I’m sorry Alistair. I shouldn’t have lead you on like that.”
“I… I need some time to think, Neria” Alistair choked out. Neria just stood up and left to pack her own things.
\--
The next few days Alistair did anything to avoid Neria. It hurt her to see him like that, but she did what she thought was right. She couldn’t love him, and that would be worse for them both.
Neria sat awake once again watching the stars as they flickered above her. She didn’t even bother to move her head when she heard a rustling from one of the other tents.
Leliana moved out of her tent, finally giving up on any chance of rest for the night. She spotted Neria at the edge of camp staring up at the sky. She moved towards the woman and sat next to her.
“It seems sleep has eluded us again” Leliana exhaled as she sat down next to Neria. Neria nodded in acknowledgement. The silence stretched between them as they gazed at the stars above them. Eventually Leliana broke the silence asking, “Are you all right? I know things between you and Alistair have been...”
Neria sighed, “Tense? Yeah. He won’t talk to me, and I mean I understand why, but it’s hard. I just want to be friends again, to forget those feelings…” Neria ran her hand through her hair frustrated. “I just wish I would have told him sooner that I couldn’t love him back in the same way.”
“Love is…,” Leliana tried to articulate, “it is difficult to say the least. Alistair is a good man. He will come around eventually”
Neria hummed curlinging in on herself. “Maybe, but it doesn’t erase the fact I lead him on and hurt him, Leliana... I thought it would be different this time, that I could love him, that maybe if I tried hard enough-”
Leliana grasped at Neria’s shoulder, “Neria, I think you need to forgive yourself more right now than you need Alistair’s. It is not your fault that you could not love him, and he will come to understand, as do you.”
Neria stared at Leliana with wet and shining eyes, “How can I? I hurt him because I refused to admit to myself that… that I am not attracted men”
Leliana raised her eyebrow at Neria, “Neria, it is okay to not be attracted to men and sometimes it takes a lot to figure that out for some. So long in fact that they trap themselves in a relationship with nowhere to go. It is good you told him now before you trapped yourselves further.”
Neria sat as Leliana’s words sank in unsure of what to even think. She knew the other woman was right, that it could have ended worse, but the guilt still sat heavy in her stomach.
Leliana could still see the heaviness in Neria, so she wrapped an arm around the shorter woman and brought her into her side. Neria eased into the embrace resting her head on the other woman’s shoulder.
“Do you think you could tell me another story Leliana?” Neria eked out.
“Of course mon amie, is there any specific story you would like me to tell you?”
“Can you tell me the story of Alindra again?”
So Leliana wove the story of Alindra once again. At her words Neria felt the tension in her body ease, she allowed Leliana’s words to drown out her thoughts and even the world around them. Sleep crept up on the edges of Neria’s consciousness, taking hold and dragging her into a peaceful sleep. But before sleep entirely consumed her she mumbled out, “thank you”.
Leliana stopped and looked down at her and smiled, “always”.
2. Chapter 2
Neria woke to the sound of crashing. She felt warmth recede from her side and spotted Leliana waking beside her, alert for whatever the sound was.
Looking over to the main part of camp the pair noticed Alistair rising from behind a box of supplies.
Leliana moved to get up and called out to him, “Are you alright Alistair?”
“Yeah, fine just perfect” he bit back, hastily moving to the other end of camp. Neria rose beside Leliana confused by his actions.
“What was tha- Oh shit! I should go talk to him, I am so sorry Leliana” Neria rushed out as she moved to follow after Alistair.
She caught up to him just as he entered the woods on the other side of camp. “Alistair! Please wait up!”
“Neria, please just leave me alone” he choked out.
Neria just grabbed for his elbow turning him around to face her.
“No I won’t. Please just talk to me.” Neria pleaded.
Alistair ran a hand through his hair and huffed out, “Was she the real reason?”
“Wha- Alistair no, Leliana and I, we aren’t together. Please don’t pull her into this the only person to blame is me.”
“But you like her don’t you?”
“I… I’m not sure…” Neria shook her head, “But that’s not the point. Alistair, when you said you liked me I thought that maybe… maybe I could like you too. I forced myself to all because I was stupid and denied the fact that I prefer women. I was afraid. And when you said you loved me… I panicked. I knew I couldn’t love you back, and I couldn’t continue to do that to you. I’m sorry for it all, Alistair, I shouldn’t have done that to you. You deserve to hate me...” Neria trailed off. |
37df16905d1f400bbdd9ccacb271f2eb | ['7df7c267f0ea427d970cd784b08b083f'] | “I've been working on these for forever.” He mumbled, handing them over. Jared flipped the canvas to see, and he was immediately brought to tears.
“Holy shit, Con, I'm going to burst into tears.” He babbled, staring at the portrait in front of him. He knew Connor was an artist, but he never knew that he was capable of nearly realistic paintings. The only art he had seen from him was abstract. “This is one of my favorite pictures of us. It's absolutely beautiful.”
“There's more.” Connor told him, giving him the portfolio.
Once Jared opened it, he was met with other portraits of himself. Holy shit, did Connor really draw him this much?
“Sorry if it's creepy.” The taller boy whispered, staring at his converse.
“No!” Jared immediately yelled. “It's not creepy. It's so beautiful. I love you so much, Con.” He wiped his tears away and closed the portfolio again, putting the items back into the car. “I made something for you, but I know it's not as impressive as all that art.”
“That's not true. I'm going to love it, Jare.” He assured him, opening the car door. Jared got in on the other side and pulled something out from the side compartments of his car. Three CDs.
“I spent months finding the perfect songs to put on these. There's about 30 songs on each. It took forever to burn them.” Connor stared at the cases with a small smile on his face.
“What's on them?” He asked, looking over to his boyfriend with tears in his eyes.
“The first one is all of your favorite emo and edgy songs. I found your Spotify playlists and put your favorites on that one. The second one is our favorite musical songs. The Rent album, Memory from Cats, Waitress, and Wicked too. And the third one is, uh,” He paused, letting out an embarrassed laugh. “I have a private playlist that are songs that remind me of you, and that's what the last one is.” He finished explaining, face red as hell.
“Jare, that's amazing. This must have taken you forever to burn it all. Thank you so much.” He found himself getting choked up.
“I know it's not as good as your paintings and drawings, but I'm glad you love them.” He kept his eyes cast down to his pants, picking at a small rip.
“Jared, please don't feel bad about this. Your gift is perfect. All I need is you.” Connor told him, grabbing his hand and tilting his chin up to look into his eyes.
They closed the gap between their lips, closing their eyes in tandem. For a year, Connor was so sure that no kiss was going to be better than his first. This kiss, however, made him feel things that his first one didn't.
He felt safe. He felt at home. He felt as if the world had vanished behind them, and as cliche as that was, it was the greatest euphoria he had ever experienced.
What felt like hours later, they pulled away and just held each other for a while. The two stayed in silence, in the parking lot, before Connor decided it was time to leave.
“You still up for video games?” He asked, slightly ashamed of his voice cracking in the slightest.
Jared shook his head. “'M tired. Will you stay with me tonight?” He asked, rubbing his teary eyes.
“Of course, baby.” Connor agreed, starting the car and popping in the musical CD. Memory was the first song, which made Jared jolt and smile wide. He sang along quietly until the chorus, where he began belting at the top of his lungs. It made him happy to see Jared this ecstatic.
They blew threw other songs, getting to Defying Gravity, where Connor gladly joined in, singing along as Elphaba. He wasn't going to hit Idina Menzel’s high notes, but he was going to try, that's for fucking sure.
By the time the song ended, Connor pulled up to Jared's driveway, helping the boy out of the car. He picked him up gently and carried him inside, not forgetting to grab what was in the backseat.
He carried everything down to the basement, setting Jared down on the bed. He yawned. “Wait, how did I not notice you're wearing my shirt?” He asked, rubbing his eyes.
“I don't know. It's my first time wearing it.” Connor admitted, a bit ashamed, but thankfully Jared didn't think much of it.
“Hoodie?” The smaller boy simply asked, and Connor frowned. “It's at home. Sorry baby.”
“'S alright.” He murmured, tugging at his short sleeved button down and jeans. Connor began stripping himself of his own jeans, laying down on the bed next to him.
“Come here, Jare.” He cooed, pulling him closer. “I love you. Happy one year.”
“Happy one year.” Jared replied, closing his eyes. “Love you.”
And with that, he easily fell asleep. Connor stayed up for only 15 minutes more, just thinking about the past year, and how happy he's been.
“Thank you.” He whispered as quietly as possible. “For everything.” | eacc846b9e484c99b89e4dfcb0ad86a6 | ['7df7c267f0ea427d970cd784b08b083f'] | “Mhm.” He replied, stretching himself out on his seat. “I'm thirsty. And starving. You better have good chips, Kleinman.” He deadpanned.
Jared rolled his eyes and laughed. “My boyfriend is so fucking needy.” He retorted, cracking a smile.
“Don't be rude. You weren't being rude eight minutes ago."
“That's because you were _ crying _ , Con. Now that you're okay, I have free range to make fun of you.”
Connor scoffed and crossed his arms. “You’re lucky I love you, nerd.”
Jared finally pulled up into his driveway and parked. “Lead the way, sweet prince.”
They both got out of the car and headed inside towards Jared's basement. He was happy to discover Jared _ did _ have good chips.
Not to mention he was happy to discover that he was good at kissing too.
He had the hickeys to prove it.
**Author's Note:**
> I kinda wanna write more stuff with potential fears these kids might have??? I already wrote one with Jared, and now this one exists. I'm planning one with Evan, and I might do Alana and Zoe too. Any suggestions on possible fears? Idk man. |
149320431c9d4ffab0a46401aada6a96 | ['7e28f77296f34431ae63804f06ea2232'] | He frowned “I’m not a control freak, but I know what I like and unlike heterosexual men I like to communicate that to my partner. There should always be communication where sex is concerned”
“Alright, alright” she conceded grabbing a tissue from the box on the side to wipe off the offending saliva, she raised an eyebrow as if silently asking if that was better and when he nodded continued her task once more.
This time though she did exactly what he wanted, making sure to keep her hand moving up and down and round in something close to a carousel motion whilst her mouth licked and sucked his tip.
She took him all the way to the back of her throat a couple times and swallowed around him until he was about to come, she pulled off and sat back allowing his impending orgasm to dissipate and him to collect himself whilst she searched for a condom, she didn’t want him coming yet.
Finally finding one in his left hand bedside cabinet Emily wasted no time ripping it out of its packaging and rolling it down over Adam’s hard cock. He eyed her warily as she removed her panties and bra and straddled his hips, hovering above him as if waiting for permission.
She had a beautiful body, there was no getting away from it but Adam suddenly grasped the seriousness of the whole situation and wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to do. He was a great believer in fully exploring sexuality and experiencing new things but what if it changed him somehow, or changed their dynamic as friends.
“You alright?” she asked curiosity etched on her face
“Yeah, I think so” was all he could manage in response
Sensing what the problem is she leant forward to stroke his face gently, it wasn’t a romantic gesture but more of a calming tactic as if she thought he would push her away and run given half the chance and it made him smile to himself
“We can only try it, if you don’t feel comfortable or you don’t like it you can just say and I’ll stop. Okay?”
“Since when did you become the man in this equation?”
She pulled a face “Well you do wear more make up then me so….”
He rolled his eyes dramatically “Okay, well how do we…” he trailed off looking nervous again, something neither of them were used to because Adam was always the confident one.
“Just let me take care of all that, just try and enjoy the ride” she smiled reassuringly as she moved his hands to her hips. His arms locked in position like a deer in the headlights as he asked “erm, do we need lube?”
She laughed a light musical laugh “Nope, self-lubricating” a cheeky wink accompanying it
He nodded keeping eye contact “let’s try this then” it was his way of giving her the green light so there would be no confusion between them. She leant forward and touched his lips gently with her own the taste of her vanilla scent seeping into his pores.
As she moved back to her original position he watched as she lined herself up with him, she gazed at him as she sank down onto him the warm wetness of her body surrounding him and making the air escape from his lungs like an unwritten melody.
She gave him a few seconds to get use to the feeling, watching him carefully for any signs of discomfort emotional or otherwise. It was so different to Adam and he wasn’t entirely sure about it at first, it was so wet which was pleasurable sure and damn she was tight and soft but it was so strange that he couldn’t help but get caught up in the fascination of how their bodies connected.
Seeing that he was okay, even if he was staring a little too intently at her vagina as if he thought it was something strange and unusual, Emily began to set a rhythm as she rocked her hips back and forward riding him gently at first but growing steadily faster.
She was clearly enjoying herself Adam thought amused as she had her head thrown back one hand in her hair, the other on his chest as she bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes.
Was it normal for woman to make those kinds of noises? Sure guys moaned but not like this, men were more raw and animalistic than woman and they made much more appealing noises when you were getting it right in Adam’s opinion, how could heterosexual men find this alluring?
Sure he liked the feeling of something wet and warm around his cock, but other than that all this rocking wasn’t really doing anything for Adam which in all honesty relieved him, maybe this wasn’t going to change him after all he thought as she started twitching and making strange faces whilst moaning his name something which made him cringe slightly.
It wasn’t long before her climax took her over and she came with a loud ‘URGH!’ as her petite body shivered and her eyes reopened lazily to look at his politely uninterested face.
“Oh didn’t you come?” she asked through the haze of her orgasm
“I don’t think this is a good position for me” he said almost apologetically as she eyed him concerned
“Oh, well do you want a go?” she rolled onto her back beside him indicating that he should try being on top this time
“I suppose so but…”
“What? Isn’t it the same as when guys lay on their back and take it? I can put it in for you if that’s easier?” | 5a19f711be3a4dff9665c11d759f9eb2 | ['7e28f77296f34431ae63804f06ea2232'] |
Gold Star Gay
**Author's Note:**
> Hey guys and girls, so I was watching (re-watching really) an interview Adam did with Alan Carr on his chatty man show back in 2015/16ish about that one time on his 29th Birthday when he got drunk on Tequila and had sex with a woman. and it got me to thinking, I wonder what that would have been like? seeing as Adam, for good reason never mentioned who it was I didn't feel comfortable picking one of his 'well known' female friends so I made one up. all references in this story come from different interviews he's done over the years and an honorable mention of Mr Tommy Joe Ratliff (aka my dream husband) because I refuse to let Adommy die!!! - I hope you enjoy this work of fiction!
The sun had set and was not long off rising again as the music wound on, a chilled out background noise at this point. Tequila bottles littered the glitter covered floor as items of clothing and make up, discarded created the car crash that was Adam’s 29th birthday party.
As birthday parties went this was definitely one of the more eccentric, I mean sure Adam was well known for throwing a good party with plenty of booze and about a thousand costume changes for good measure but this was his best to date.
He’d had around two hundred people packed into his new home, all in varying states of inebriation and with entirely ridiculous costume choices. They’d partied in the lounge with topless butlers disco balls and a mechanical bull Adam had managed to procure from somewhere, they’d partied in the expansive infinity pool with its waterfall and a bizarre array of blow up animals and a couple male dolls thanks to some of his more lude friends.
They’d even headed out to the well-known nightclubs of LA where more friends had descended to make sure Adam had the best birthday because he was well loved amongst his friends.
He was always the life and soul of any gathering no matter how small and to be in his presence was like being in the sun, and let’s face it who doesn’t like to be in the sun soaking up those glorious rays of light.
He’d made out with a few twinks, danced and even procured a few phone numbers but he was in no rush to be tied down, it’s not really how his career worked these days so here he was back at his house awaiting the rising of the sun with his best friend Emily.
He’d known her from way before he was famous, the good old San Diego days when he was just the overweight weird ginger jewish kid who was far too flamboyant and misunderstood for most in their town.
No glamour or sold out Queen shows, just good old fashioned karaoke in Adam’s beat up old room at his parents house, with a couple of bed sheets draped around their shoulders like imaginary gowns their favorite divas would wear.
She had been one of the first friends he had come out to at the age of 18 and she hadn’t batted an eyelid which he loved her for, she’d just simply shrugged and asked him if he wanted a medal or something sarcastically before returning to her bowl of lucky charms and the documentary on Tina Turner they had been watching.
She’d taught him how to do his make-up and wing womaned him on nights out to the underground gay clubs on the San Diego scene, which were far and few between but still she was there. She was the one who pushed him to follow his dreams of musical theatre, convinced and supported his move to LA and when the time was right push him to audition for American Idol.
He owed her a great deal really when he thought about it on sober days because without her love and support he really didn’t know where he’d be, probably in a ditch somewhere with a ball gag and a set of assless chaps she’d wagered which had made him snort out a laugh of mixed hilarity and indignation.
Emily was a pretty girl, she was petite and dainty with an athletic figure that supported her dancing career well. Her chocolate brown hair always sleek and shiny hung neatly to the middle of her back so perfectly Adam always wondered how she could be so put together all the time.
Her pale green eyes and ivory skin made her face stunning and inviting and much like Adam himself she was a great source of entertainment for all who knew her, sarcastic with a biting wit she was unlike most women in LA which is what made her so alluring to those she met and worked with.
They were both currently very drunk on tequila, sat on the carpeted floor of Adam’s walk in closet with feather bowers wound around their necks and empty bottles strewn around them.
They were quite alone now as the party had dissipated and everyone had finally gone home to sleep off their already materializing hangovers, which had prompted deep and meaningful conversations about life and love and everything in between.
They more or less had the same philosophy on most things and it was this which made them gravitate towards each other’s company the most out of all of their social circles, they were currently locked into a drunken deep life conversation about sexuality.
“So you’ve never slept with a girl right? Like only kissed that butch girl from choir on the beach that time?”
“BJ? Yeah… I kissed a few other girls too though, she taught me how to smoke a cigarette and she was my first kiss”
“But you weren’t attracted to her, or them for that matter” Emily stated rather than asking a question |
314b3e26a482479cb7350538df1b96f6 | ['7e3303fbe8664893a9465a71d756f656'] | She looks at you with sad eyes “Well... she should be ok now, however its going to take a while before she can use her wrist and we found some internal bleeding but we managed to patch it up. It’ll be a couple of days before she can do anything on her own so you’re going to have to take really good care of her and make sure she does not overexert herself. She is a rather unusual size for a house troll, you did say she was a house troll, correct?” She made a face as she thought about it.
“Anyway I’m going to prescribe some pain medication that you’re going to have to make sure she takes, and I’m going to need you to take her in to me every couple of days to make sure the healing process is going smoothly”
You rub the back of your neck and lick your lips before stating nervously “See, thing is I don’t know. Exactly how to take care of a troll...”
The doctor smiled sweetly “Its quite easy actually, make sure you feed her properly and that she can have water and such. It is basically like taking care of another human.”
“Right so basically, anything we can eat she can eat too?”
“Pretty much, though I advise you feed her soft food until the initial shock wears off otherwise it will upset her stomach. There is a brand of troll food by crocker corp but I do not recommend you feed her it, mostly due to her size, if it’s designed for small trolls your jade-blooded friend isn’t going to get the nutrients she needs from it. ”
“How much damage did I cause her?” You wince at the thought of her bloodied arm.
“After examining the extent of damage you had caused to her arm, you are very lucky you didn’t cause anything too severe just a fractured arm and a cracked rib.” She smiles softly “Its not that difficult to take care of them either.”
After a short lesson on the troll hemospectrum and a handful of other troll related subjects. Doctor Nepeta Leijon takes you into the recovery room to see your new...talking, completely sentient...housepet?
2. Well This Is Going To Be Exciting
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Your name is Porrim and you have no idea how you got here.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Let's try this again, god I'm such an idiot with this shit.
Your name is Porrim, and holy shit does every bone in your body hurt, mostly your ribs and right arm of course but you wouldn’t know a great deal about what happened last chapter.You feel extremely groggy and sluggish. Your eyes flutter open and meet the steel ceiling of, oh. You’re in a cage. Great. A big cage but it’s still a cage. It’s fixed into the wall and the floor is lined with a soft green padding, it’s tall enough for you to stand and wide enough for you to stretch out your left arm. What’s more startling is how calm you are about the whole situation...You sneak a curious sniff and immediately regret it. The assault on your nose is almost unbearable, it ranges from that steely clean smell of disinfectant to the disgustingly familiar scent of piss soaked newspaper. The back of your throat contacts and a sharp pain jolts through your side. You want to bring your hands to your mouth or to at least cover your nose but every joint in your body aches and your right arm feels stiff; like something is wrapped around- ah, well something is wrapped around it. Right, that’s not good.
After a couple of hours staring at the ceiling and trying to keep your breathing regular; despite the sharp stinging sensation on the right side of your ribcage making itself the centre of attention, your ears perk up at the sound of voices. Humans voices, both sound female. Your muscles tense and the stinging pain in your ribs grows somewhat more painful. You quietly thank whomever these two might be for providing you with blankets to preserve your dignity or rather what little shred of dignity you have remaining from this delicate position but then again...they did cage you.
The pair push open the double doors to the left of your cage. You have to admit, the blonde haired human that ra- oh yeah that’s what happened. Hey wait, she ran you over. Shouldn’t you still be at the side of the road...
The one you don’t recognise is wearing a long white coat, she smells of panicked animals, of chemicals and so many other things that your nose can’t process because, oh god do you hurt! You wince and squirm away from the wires though not very far you only get an inch or so before your muscles scream in protest and you come to a halt. She kneels down and pulls the unlocked cage doors open. They left it unlocked? That confuses you, the last time you were in a cage the humans in charge slapped a padlock on it crushing any hope you had of immediate escape. You probably should have noticed the lack of a lock but then again, you probably couldn’t have ran even if you tried.
The one in the coat lays a hand on your pained ribs, her touch is soft and gentle and you find yourself not flinching away, it’s the single least threatening gesture you’ve ever known. Her fingers spread out and probe gently. Occasionally she’ll take a look at your face until eventually; she touches the cause of your pain and you let out a muffled and slightly irritated “Please stop!” | 4f56a5f488f64bfd84e1bea70ed3d4f1 | ['7e3303fbe8664893a9465a71d756f656'] | After that the pair got you out onto a chair, white coat puts something around your arm and tied it behind your neck. She calls it a ‘sling’. She also gives you some hard white things called ‘pills’. At first you don’t want to take them, for one thing you don’t know what will happen and another you don’t completely trust these people. That’s when blondy takes the same pills from the same bottle and flushes them down with water from a plastic cup. You do the same but only because the human hasn’t passed out. It takes a few seconds to kick in but when it does you feel the pain ease off you slightly, your head feels muggy and you feel that sluggish feeling overcome you again but you don’t feel the pain nearly as much as before.
You’re okay with this feeling and these people being around you when you feel so weak, you understand that if they had intended to harm you they could have done so long before now. However you do not completely trust them. That would be a foolish thing to do and you do not wish to be made a fool of twice.
You lean back in the chair. Thankfully your arm cast is pulled across your chest and does a nice job of shielding you from view. White coat introduces herself as Doctor Nepeta Leijon and informs you that you have just swallowed some very strong pain killers that Roxy (That would be blondy, you assume) probably shouldn’t have taken. Roxy doesn't seem affected at all. They both go back to talking after the formalities involving the ‘animal’ are over with and you listen in.
“So Roxy, how much do you know about trolls exactly?”
“Um, just about what you told me in the waiting room... but I’m bettin Janey knows tons bout these guys!”
“Oh.. well ok then. So you need to make sure shes fed every day and she has liquids. You’re gonna need to get her a bed, some clothes and make sure she gets exercise. Play with her, give her lots of love, take her out places. It’s not too difficult. Also make sure to bring her in to see me every once in awhile so I can make sure she’s healthy and doing well.”
“Yeah, sure thing Doc. I’ll keep ya posted but um, I dunno if I can get her home naked...”
Roxy and Doctor Nepeta rush around trying to find something to cover you with. You actually feel a little excited about the prospect of having something to cover your only slightly muddy fur. All they manage to dig up is a plain white shirt( it looks a little grubby) and the blanket Roxy wrapped you in. It’s weird; you actually like that ratty blanket, it smells like motor oil, yourself and faint traces of other things you can’t pick up on without the utterly disgusting scent of piss making it’s way into your skull from a nearby cage and yet you find it comforting despite being 12 sweeps old.
You find yourself wondering exactly what kind of animal is in there; before you can even come to the conclusion that it is infact your common everyday cat, Roxy has the shirt down and covering your arm in it’s sling. You push your left arm into the appropriate sleeve and find that doing the same for the right arm may require some assistance.
It takes a little bit of fiddling with the sling and removing and replacing the t-shirt before you have both arms through their respective sleeves and your injured arm sitting comfortably in its sling. After that’s done you are left with no choice but to go with Roxy into the waiting room where you are met with a third woman, you learn her name is Tula or maybe that’s a nickname seeing as she just used ‘Ro-Lal’ as a substitute for Roxy. The three have a short exchange before Roxy and LA-tula help you into the back of a ‘police cruiser’.
On the way to your new ‘home’ Roxy and Latula are talking about the events of last night and exactly where you may have come from. You consider interjecting but decide against it seeing as you’d rather start afresh and keep most of your past just that, in the past. You also consider the fact that to these two you are less than human and therefore speaking up may not be a wise decision. For now anyway, it is better to play it safe and rest up. |
6276a754da9d4dd197375aa924bf7841 | ['7e4448598de94fcfb4419c02f3491209'] |
1. Helena
**Helena**
\--
The tabby comes to the backyard every day just before dawn, when the earth is still dark and cool with the touch of night. Helena wakes early to bring it breakfast- just a few carrots or a piece of leftover meat, whatever she’s managed to save. It’s not much but the cat’s hide hangs morbidly on its starkly visible skeleton and Helena knows it’s desperately hungry. She sits in the dirt yard, bony knees tucked to her chest, and watches her feline friend devour whatever gift she’s brought that morning.
Behind the animal, past the wooden fence that separates their house from the others, she can see cars pass by every so often on the road. Sometimes she thinks of climbing the fence and running out to see the people in those cars, of asking them to take her away from this place. She doesn’t even know where this place is, but she knows its nowhere near the convent- the weather is too warm. The idea of running out into that unknown world scares her, but so does the world inside the house, and she thinks maybe running would be better. But, even while he is asleep in his bed, Tomas’ presence reaches out to hold her back. She cannot understand much of what he says but she understands that he won’t let her go, that he will find her if she leaves, just like he found her at the convent.
“You know God, yes?” he’d said when he’d first brought her to this house, after Helena had traveled for days with the stranger. She’d nodded enthusiastically, happy to be able to understand the question. Tomas had smiled, laying a hand on her shoulder. “God has brought me to you, child,” he’d explained, pointing first at himself and then at her. “To teach you how to do his work.”
She first discovers what “his work” entails when one morning Tomas wakes earlier than her and she comes into the kitchen to find him standing at the window, hands in his pockets.
“Come here,” he says and Helena pads over to his side, her skin prickling at their close proximity. She follows his gaze to the tabby pacing the yard in wait of its meal. “Go get the cat,” Tomas tells her, and she looks up at him shaking her head. “The cat,” he repeats, pointing at the animal. “Bring it to me.” He thrusts her toward the door firmly and she slips outside.
She’s never touched the cat before, so she doesn’t know what to expect when she crouches and inches close on her toes. The tabby circles near and sniffs her outstretched hand warily, inspecting it for food. Gently Helena uncurls her fingers and reaches for the cat’s back. The ragged creature stills as she makes contact with its matted fur, but after a moment it pushes its spine against her palm and mewls softly. Helena can’t help the smile that steals across her face, a warm feeling rising inside of her at the soft contact.
She glances over her shoulder at Tomas. Smears of dirt and glare from the sun on the windowpane mask his face somewhat but she can still see his eyes, cold and expectant beneath furrowed brows. Afraid to disappoint him she quickly circles the tabby with both arms and grasps it tightly to her chest, turning and rushing inside as it hisses in protest and claws her skin red.
“Put it in here,” Tomas says, gesturing to a crate on the table. The cat is trying to jump from her arms and Helena practically flings it into the crate, Tomas swinging the door shut and trapping it in. He carries the crate down to the basement and Helena follows him.
She’s been to the basement before; it’s where she goes when Tomas is unhappy with her. There’s just one light that flickers to life dimly when a string is pulled, illuminating rough cement walls and a metal table with a single chair. Tomas puts the crate on the table and pulls something from his pocket.
“I want you to kill it,” he says without inflection, and the blade he proffers communicates the meaning of the word kill perfectly. Helena fails to take the weapon so Tomas grabs her hand roughly, forcing her tightly clenched fist open and wrapping her fingers around its hilt.
With wide eyes she looks at the tabby, crouching at the back of its prison with hackles raised and muscles tensed. In the animal’s fear she sees herself and begins to shake. The knife feels wrong and heavy in her hand, the walls of the basement closing in on her as panic claws in her chest. “No,” she whimpers timidly. _It’s my friend_ , she wants to explain, but the word for friend is not in her vocabulary.
Tomas says something that Helena can’t understand and then drags his finger across his thick throat. “Like this.” Helena reaches for her own throat unconsciously, feels her heart beat through the delicate skin. Her pulse is racing. Tomas clamps his hand onto the back of her neck and pushes her towards the crate, but with a cry she yanks away from him, breathing heavily as tears sting her eyes.
She keeps her eyes clamped shut as Tomas rushes forward and grabs her wrist, bending it backwards until it screams in pain. His face is inches from hers. “Do not disobey me. I’m trying to teach you, you foolish child.” Helena flails out at him, yanking the wrist still twisted in his grip. Her cheek explodes with pain as he slaps it in an effort to make her calm. It works somewhat; dazed, she sinks to the floor, mouth hanging open in pain. | 2f47481b2655464a9f15ebefc244cb75 | ['7e4448598de94fcfb4419c02f3491209'] | She fills a paper cup with water and unscrews two of the bottles, shaking the capsules out into her hand. They don’t feel like the solution she needs them to be as they slide down her throat.
The next morning she’s woken at noon by her ringtone. It’s Art.
“Where the hell have you been? We have a new case- there’s been a robbery at the Sun Jewelry store. Get your ass down here, soon.”
“Calm the fuck down,” she growls. Her mouth feels fuzzy and a headache is raging behind her temples. She feels anything but ready to be a detective today.
The new case should be a welcome break from the stress of her personal life, but Beth can’t focus at the scene. Her senses feel slightly dulled by the medication, but somehow this only takes her out of her work, rather than reducing her worry over the stranger. Art, who is normally so attuned to her mood shifts, doesn’t notice a thing. He asks her if she’ll go question some of the witnesses alone, since his daughter’s birthday is today and they’re throwing her a party later. Before she goes she looks up the mystery woman’s plates, finds her address and name. Maggie Chen. Beth wonders how she came to be caught up in their lives.
She no longer trusts faces; the woman that greets her on her way into the apartment complex has large doe eyes and small ears, an innocent face that seems to offer only truths. Beth imagines her without that face, what she looks like on the inside.
Last night when she looked in the mirror she felt lost. Her eyes, her nose, her mouth that tried to smile or frown but could only find something oddly in-between; they no longer felt like her own. They’d been taken from her, and she realized that a person without a face might not add up to very much at all. _She_ didn’t feel like very much at all. She felt small, a piece of science, a collection of some memories that seem like they belong to someone else. She’s the girl who stopped believing in Christmas when she was five, who broke her arm in a stupid stunt just to impress the boy she liked. She’s the woman that loves Paul, the woman who tried for years to become a detective because she had something to prove. (That she was strong enough, that there wasn’t a weakness pressing like a disease against the inside of her skin.) But she’s not strong, and those memories seem miles behind her.
Back then, she never would have imagined that she’d fabricate a witness that lives in the same complex as Maggie Chen as an excuse for going there with her weapon, that she’d take so many pills while on the job to prepare herself for what she was about to do. She never would have understood the feeling of hunting but feeling hunted.
The walls in the hallway are covered in peeling wallpaper, the kind with ambiguous floral swirls all over it. Beth is tracing their outlines sluggishly with her eyes when she notices an Asian woman step out of the elevator. Black coat, coal black hair, a slight falter in her step- Maggie Chen. She seems to move in slow motion. Beth steps toward her.
_Hey!_ She shouts, breaks into a run. Chen flees into the stairwell. Beth chases her down towards the lower lobby. They dart through an empty courtyard area on the lower level. It’s a cloudless day and Beth squints as her eyes adjust to the pure sunlight. She draws her gun and points it at Maggie. The silencer she’s added makes it longer, more deadly looking. “I’ll shoot you.” Her voice is empty and low. Chen must feel the muzzle of the weapon eyeing her in the back of the head. She halts and turns around slowly, hands raised.
“Who the fuck are you?” Beth snarls.
The woman looks at Beth with something like revulsion in her eyes. “I’m a scientist,” she says. “Or, I was. Before I made a mistake.”
“I don’t want your life story. Who are you to _me_ , to the German?”
The woman swallows, and the look she’s still giving Beth makes her feel like a bug pinned to a slide, like her skin is transparent.
“ _You_ ,” she says, “are the mistake.” Beth grips the gun tighter. She’s having trouble keeping it trained on Chen; her coat feels heavy on her shoulders.
“I was there when you were first created. _All_ of you. At the time it felt like what we had accomplished was a miracle, a breakthrough only dreamed of in books. There was no way to know if the project would be successful, so we kept it a secret, we monitored the subjects as discreetly as possible.”
_The subjects._
“It wasn’t until a few months ago that I saw how wrong we were to do it, to violate nature’s rules.”
Beth’s brow furrows as she tries to take in the words. Her gun feels cold against her burning skin. “And now you’re trying to clean up your mistake?” The woman shakes her head.
“You don’t understand,” she says. “You haven’t seen what I have, you don’t know what you are, _how many_ you are. Looking at you right now”- Maggie lets out a bitter chuckle under her breath- “I see something terrible. An abomination.”
Beth shivers and runs a hand through her hair.
"I’m going to kill you. I know what happened in Europe. It’s not going to happen here.”
“I have answers for you, Beth. Kill me and you’ll never find out.” Beth grunts in frustration, takes better aim. “There are more of us- you won’t escape it.” She’s right- it would be a return to square one. They will still be hunted. The face they wear marks them. |
a8ec8f9bff4a4e69ba9c3cc0929883d5 | ['7e45ddca385b46dc90aab5b53f2e4970'] | But then the internal fighting started up again and with that Castiel was snapped back to reality. Dean seemed to notice his small flinch because he slightly tightened his grip around his shoulders and gave him a you okay? look and Castiel reassured him with a small nod. Castiel decided then to never let his guard down enough for him to go into the hunters mind again.
5. Chapter 5
Dean had been fine with Cas under his arm, even more than fine when Cas placed a light hand on his knee but now the movie was over and Sam was pitching a fit, something about how Dean and Cas should spend more quality time together and how Cas needed to see more of humanity, and he was internally freaking out. Before either of them could argue Sam had taken the keys to the impala and had left, leaving Dean angry and Cas with his head tilted.
“Well I don't know what that was all about, but there is a bar down the road. We can walk. It wont take long ”
The walk was short and they didn't say anything but the silence wasn't awkward. The bar was small and looked like it was popular with the locals. They sat at the bar and Dean ordered two beers.
“Did you like the movie Cas?” Dean wasn't very good with small talk and he didn't want to bring up what had happened during the movie but the conversation had to start somewhere.
Cas smiled “Yes, Dean, I did. Did you like it?”
“Yeah, it was pretty good, and it helped that that Benedict guy wasn't hard on the eyes either. I would kill for cheekbones like that”
Cas tilted his head “Dean, I don't think that is a reason to kill someone over. Plus your cheekbones are great.”
Dean chuckled and took a long pull from his beer “Thanks Cas” He didn't bother with trying to explain the expression.
~~~~
Hours and multiple beers later Castiel was starting to loosen up and the conversations were flowing even though Dean's speech was starting to slur. Castiel was only beginning to feel buzzed while Dean, on the other hand, was about one more beer from being drunk. Dean was about to order again when the bartender told them that they were about to close up. Dean took a small look around to see that they were they only ones left in the small bar.
“Oh, alright then. Here you go, keep the change.” Dean stood and rocked forwards. “Let's go, Cas”
While following him, Castiel had to fight the urge to wrap an arm around Dean's waist to keep him steady. The night time air was cool and the stars were out; they made Castiel think of all his brothers and sisters but he was snapped out of it when Dean slung his arm around his shoulders.
“Cas, have I ever told you how great you are? Because you really are a great person … angel. You're a really great angel.”
The rest of the way to the motel Dean kept his arm wrapped around the angels shoulders. Finally they got to the hotel and made way for the elevator.
They stepped inside and Dean pressed the button then proceeded to stand very close to Castiel. It made Castiel smile because he remembered when Dean would tell him to be careful of his personal space and now here he was stepping into Castiel's space.
“What is it?” Dean asked
“I find it very hypocritical that you're standing this close to me when you used to tell me to not do it to you.”
He could feel Dean's hot breath on his mouth and see his eyes dart down to Castiel's mouth. Just then the elevator made a small sound and the doors opened, telling them that they'd made it to their floor. Dean reluctantly backed up and walked out of the elevator. Castiel realized that he was holding his breath and takes in a needy breath before following the hunter.
Dean opens the door and stepped inside. The tension is so thick in the room Castiel is sure he can feel it and it is eating away at him. So much tension it feels like he's drowning in it and he can't go on living if he doesn't do something soon.
It only takes a swift motion to get Dean pinned against the wall and only a millisecond passed before his mouth is crashing down on the hunter's. The kiss is desperate and messy and the tension snaps in half and Castiel can breath again. Dean doesn't miss a beat when they finally separate for air, his lips are on Castiel's jaw and making their way down his throat to his pulse point, nipping softly at the sensitive skin.
Castiel effortlessly lifts Dean so his legs are wrapped around his waist and carries his to his room. Dean kicks a leg out to shut the door behind them. Castiel lightly tosses him on the bed and tries his best to quickly get out of his coat and shoes. Dean takes the memo and is throwing his leather jacket on the floor ,soon followed by his shirt and shoes.
“Cas, where did you learn that?” Dean asked, his voice deeper than normal.
Castiel smirks because he knows exactly where he learned it.
“By reading our Fanfiction”
Deans laugh is cut off by the return of Castiel's lips.
~~~
In the other room Sam puts on his headphones to block the sounds coming from his brother and the angel and he can't help but laugh to himself.
“Thank god. Took long enough!”
The end.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thank you all so much for reading and commenting. I really enjoyed writing this but your feedback kept me motivated to try and make this the best it could be. I have to thank two people real quick. My best friends Kristie and Brooke-Lynne.
>
> Kristie gave me the idea for this story and the title so with out her this story would be nonexistent.
>
> Brooke-Lynne was the one who beta'd this for me and I just cant explain how much she has helped me. | 98eb37c7cd1448b5a23bdc4c709f6c25 | ['7e45ddca385b46dc90aab5b53f2e4970'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> I was inspired by this when I saw the tumblr post about Ian Somerhalder being the human Impala. Hope you enjoy! (Also, I would really appreciate any feedback, it keeps me motivated)
“Sam, you ready yet?” Dean hollered whilst putting the last of his clothes in the worn duffel. Sam stuck his head out of the bathroom door and tried to mumble something with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. It vaguely sounded like _gimme a minute!_ After Sam spit in the sink and a took a swig of mouth wash, the younger brother joined him in the motel room.
“Took you long enough, Samantha.”
“Jerk,” Sam said
“Bitch.”
Dean smirked and adjusted the strap to the duffel on his shoulder. Once everything was gathered from the room they made way for the parking lot. Even though it was midday and the sun was out shining, the air was cold and bit at any exposed skin.
It only took one quick look of the lot to know that his baby wasn't there. Internal monologue was already running on an loop
_Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm, stay calm_
“Sam please tell me this is your idea at a very sick joke. Where is my car?”
Sam looked just as confused as he did, which only made the monologue run faster.
_Stay calm, Stay calm, Stay calm, Stay calm_
The duffel bag made a dull thud as it hit the ground and Dean was slowly pacing in front of their motel room.
_Why would someone steal my baby? I'm going to rip the lungs out of the person who took baby from me!_
He was so consumed by the raging thoughts he didn't even notice Sam trying to get his attention as a man with black shaggy hair wearing a black leather jacket, dark jeans, and a single dog tag walked up to him. The man had piercing light blue eyes and a slight five o'clock shadow on his strong jaw.
“Hey, Dean.”
“I'm sorry, do I know you?”
The man look confused. “You don't recognize me?”
“Look buddy, I don’t have time for this right now. Someone stole my car.”
"Buddy? You've never called me that before... Normally its Baby.”
“Wha- Alright, what the hell is your problem?”
“Seriously, you don't recognize me?”
“No!” Frustration and confusion were now being added to the bubbling pit of emotions, which mixed in swimmingly with the anger that was already at a boil.
The man took two steps forward before both Dean and Sam's hands were at their guns. The man held his hands up in defense.
“Whoa, I just wanna show you something.” His hands fished the chain with the dog tag on the end of it out from under the collar of his gray cotton shirt. Another two steps forward and Dean could see KAZ-2Y5 written on it. Dean pulled his gun and pointed it straight at this man who apparently knows his license plate number.
“Tell me right now who the hell you are!”
“I told you, I'm Baby!”
“There is no way in hell, that you're my car!”
“I can prove it! Well, lets see, I know about the drunken sex that happened in my back seat with that pretty boy angel of yours , you've rebuilt me from the ground up twice, oh, and lets not forget that time when you were in eleventh grade where Alice made you -”
“Okay that's enough! So hypothetically speaking, let's say you are my car. How are you now a person?”
The flap of wings behind him made him turn around to see Gabriel with a smirk on his face.
“Gabriel?” Both he and Sam spoke at the same time but they didn't mean the same thing. Sam had hope in his voice while Dean had skepticism in his. The angel shoved his hands in his pockets and walked towards them.
“Miss me?”
2. Chapter 2
“Miss me?” Gabriel shoved his hands in his pockets and walked towards the three of them. Sam had a smile that went from ear to ear and it was because of _Gabriel._ ”You know Dean, you should have listened to Baby over there. He really is your car, I just gave him a meat suit to walk around in.”
“He never listens” Baby spoke up.
“Tell me about it.” Sam said with a sigh and a quick roll of his eyes. “Well, we can't really go anywhere without a car so I'll go get the room for a few more days.” Sam turned and headed for the lobby. He took five steps before realizing the Archangel was following behind him. Dean sighed and turned to his now humanized car.
“Come on.” He sighed, picked his duffel back up and went back into the motel room. Baby took a seat at the small table.
“So where's your angel?” Baby asked.
Dean stiffened. He hadn't seen Cas since the drunken sex happened in the backseat of the Impala. He tried to push it all out of his mind.
“What's that supposed to mean?” He understood exactly what he meant, but he thought maybe playing dumb would make it to where he wouldn't have to talk about what happened.
“Well, Sam has his angel, Gabriel, so I was just wondering where Castiel is. I know he hasn't been in the Impala since you guys did you know, _the thing_.”
As if right on queue, Castiel was in the room with a flap of wings. He felt his entire body tighten. Cas's hair was all puffed up and crazy just how he liked it, his tie was on wrong and all he wanted to do was fix it for him. Some how he forced himself to swallow down the feelings. Cas turned to him.
“Hello, Dean.”
“Hey, Cas.”
Castiel turned to the other person in the room, his head tilting. |
40e0952beb5948d59a19d3da1511b1e5 | ['7e5f5471435d4eb78240175b7523e843'] |
The warp gate opened and dumped Toshinori Yagi and Izuku Midoriya on the ground before closing with a _bang!_ Izuku scrambled to his feet, turning in a quick circle and breathing hard. The rush of combat still racing in his veins and the sounds of the clash still rung in his ears. The groan behind him made the boy whirl around.
“All Might! Are you okay?” Izuku knelt down by Toshinori and gently supported his arm while he sat up.
“Fine, my boy. Just banged up a bit,” Toshinori looked up and around. “Where…? This isn’t anywhere near the square.”
Izuku helped him stand and glanced around their surroundings. They were in some kind of small park, surrounded by blooming trees and city buildings across the street.
“It looks a little like Ossus Park,” Izuku frowned. He walked across the grass and pointed to an old wooden play set, “but the play set is wrong and Ossus had a fountain installed five years ago.”
Toshinori glanced around, an uneasy feeling settling in the remains of his gut.
“You don’t think something went wrong with that warp quirk?” Izuku asked somewhere off to Toshinori’s right. His nose scrunched in thought, “Can quirks go wrong? I mean I suppose any quirk can backfire or be misused -“ Izuku rambled off, still looking around.
The uneasy feeling only grew as Toshinori walked to the entrance of the park. One look at the sign confirmed his sense.
“Midoriya, my boy…” Toshinori pointed to the sign, “Look here.”
Izuku rushed over. “No… no way.”
Carved clearly in the wooden sign were the words: Ossus Park.
Izuku looked over the park again, “You don’t think that warp quirk could have -“
“It came from over here!” a child’s voice called out, getting closer, “Two people came out of the hole in the air!”
“Alright kid, we get it. Something happened in the park,” a masculine voice grumbled loudly.
A young girl ran around the corner, “Come on! Come on! Oh hey! They’re right there! Hey! Where did you come from?” The girl ran toward them only to be stopped by a tall, muscular brunette woman.
Izuku tensed. He hadn’t even seen her coming. She was _fast._
“Woah woah woah! Don’t go rushing into possible danger kid,” the woman laughed, “That’s what I’m here for!”
“Oh, is that what your job is?” a grey-haired man appeared from around the corner, “I swear, Nana, if you honestly think that’s your job…” He nudged the kid away, “Alright, scoot. Go find your mom or something.”
The woman ignored the older man and turned. She beamed at Toshinori and Izuku as she jogged up to them.
Izuku tensed, standing defensively in front of Toshinori, activating One for All full cowl just in case. He was glad he still wore his hero costume.
“Nana…” the older man warned as he came up behind the woman. He glared sternly at Izuku, “Calm down kid. We’re heroes. By your get-up I assume you are on our side.”
Izuku remained tense but … the older man looked kind of familiar. Izuku jolted when Toshinori’s hand gripped his arm. Izuku turned to his mentor.
All Might was shaking and staring unseeing at the ground.
“All Might?” Izuku turned to him fully, “All Might, are you okay?”
“All Might?” Izuku heard the older man scoff, “Looks like he’s about to keel over.”
“Be nice, Torino,” Nana scolded.
Izuku turned back to the two heroes, brows raising in disbelief.
“Torino?” He looked at the gruff man. Suddenly the familiarity made sense, “As in Gran Torino?”
Toshinori’s grip on Izuku’s arm tightened and his other hand came up to cover his mouth as he doubled over. He lowered to his knees, and blood dripped from between his fingers.
“All Might!” Izuku knelt with him, “Are you -”
“Hey!” Nana lurched forward, “You need help.” She reached out, “I can take you to a hospital and -“
Izuku grabbed her wrist firmly, One for All pulsing through him. All Might was still trembling and that terrified Izuku. Whoever this woman was, she wasn’t going to touch All Might in his compromised state.
The heroine blinked in surprise, looking from Izuku’s unmoving grip to the boy’s wary expression. Then her brows furrowed and she canted her head.
“What’s your quirk, kid?” she asked, something truly inquisitive coloring her tone.
Izuku tensed, glancing between Nana and All Might.
Nana sat back on her heels.
“You’ve got One for All,” she said. It wasn’t a question, only an observation. “And is this your teacher?” She asked Izuku gently, giving him a calm smile. “It’s okay. I know about One for All.”
Izuku furrowed his brow uncertainly, glancing at Gran Torino. He knew and trusted Gran Torino, at least, when the man was older… but this woman.
“He knows about it too, don’t worry about him. He’s just an old grump.” Nana said with a cheeky grin. “We’re not going to hurt either of you. We’re heroes. We’re here to help. Okay?”
Slowly, Izuku nodded and loosened his grip on the heroine’s arm. His hand tingled not unpleasantly, as if sparks of electricity danced between his and the woman’s skin.
“Okay,” Nana said, slowly moving her arm away. She smiled warmly, “That’s great. Thank you.”
Izuku relaxed marginally, pulling his hand to his chest. There was something … familiar about her. He knew he hadn’t met her, but he _knew_ her.
She nodded to Toshinori who was still doubled over, bent under the weight of his shaking, “This is your teacher, right? He gave you One for All? You are very protective of him and that’s great. May I talk to him?”
Toshinori’s grip on Izuku’s arm tightened again as if the boy was his only anchor in a windstorm. Izuku looked down at him and placed his gloved hand against his teacher’s thin one.
“All Might?”
Toshinori let out a shuddering breath. Then a large hand rested on his shoulder. | 048fe4195ead46c29733c55fc0cb6e53 | ['7e5f5471435d4eb78240175b7523e843'] | “Guy in the green!” the young Toshinori called again, “I really like your hero costume! It looks super cool!”
Izuku stiffened, glancing between his teacher and his younger, healthier self.
“M-me?” Izuku called back.
“Yeah!” Young Toshinori said with a wide grin.
“T-thank you!” Izuku replied, an overwhelmed and bemused smile splitting his face.
“Alright, alright,” Gran Torino shooed the younger blond away, “We’re off to the training field. Nana will catch up later.”
“Okay - oh wait,” the young Toshinori turned back to Izuku, “Hey! What’s your name?”
Izuku blinked, “It’s Iz - ah um - It’s Deku!”
“Cool name!” Young Toshinori sent him a thumbs up and waved, “I’ll remember it! See you later!”
Izuku jolted then grinned brightly, “Y-yeah! See you later!”
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks for Reading!
>
> Have an idea for a drabble? Send me a prompt! |
553496b586ae45c09dfcd0d60c01b44b | ['7ea6194b6dbd4f28ad0dddaf90ad87ed'] | It’s a lovely meal, served with a side of incessant nagging on Noct’s part. When they finally load back into the car, he could thank the Six that the heavy carbs he’d oh so gently shoehorned Noct into knock him clear out, his snoring the only irksome thing about the now quieted man. Prompto and Gladio, for what it’s worth, only chat sluggishly among themselves. He smirks to himself. While he and Gladio had planned this, it was with the surprise of Prompto and Noct in mind, for Noct’s birthday. Predictably Prompto had latched on quickly, and had to be dissuaded and distracted away from the truth, whilst again predictably, Noct simply whined for ages about not being told.
He knows he’s been found out when Prompto, quietly, exclaims “By. The. Six!” He squirms excitedly, somehow clinging to the manners that dictate he shouldn’t awaken Noct. Perhaps he’s yet to take a snap of the sleeping man, that or he felt the surprise would be better up close. Whatever his reasoning, the gentle vibrating he does sitting in the chair is unreasonably adorable. Ignis nearly wishes he was the camera fanatic in that moment.
They pull up, familiar music playing loudly but distantly. Noct finally stirs, eyes opening and blinking, a fist dragging across his eyes, “Prom’, turn that dow…,” he spots Prompto’s huge grin and nearly shaking state, “H...Huh?” Pulling himself up, he finally notices.
“Chocobo land?!”
Ignis is pleased to note, he’s never seen Noct fly out of the car so fast. When Prompto joins him they both nearly bounce on their heels while waiting for the other two. The two who both nearly die of the pure, adorable childish energy the other two are radiating. Though Noct is still stiff, as he always was, and likely always would be, Ignis and Gladio had learned all the subtleties there were to learn about him. His excitement was obvious to them.
Gladio’s deep, calm laugh rolls out, continuing to spark the warmth quickly growing in Ignis’ chest. Six, would he live through this? Such a calm vacation, no duties nor monsters to attend to? Where would he find distraction? Surely inside such a place he’d find reprieve from his feelings, he mustn't worry himself so much. Nodding to himself he waves the boys to follow him. Now if he can only get them past the security check without a fuss...
**Author's Note:**
> "Where is this fic going?!"
>
> Fluff town. Also can you imagine getting through airport or amusement park security as these boys? Prompto just out the gate like "I promise I won't summon my guns!!" and getting kicked out. Or maybe Noct's hairspray and comb he undoubtedly brings everywhere has to be left behind, what a tragedy!!! How will he survive!
>
> Come to think of it I haven't been to a park in a while. Anyone have any amusing stories of themselves at amusement parks they could totally see the boys doing? If so drop it down there maybe I'll add it in >:3c
Kay that's enough rambling, cya when I cya. | 7f7d3651c8c4444cb8efcaa1b31734ab | ['7ea6194b6dbd4f28ad0dddaf90ad87ed'] |
The Scent of Pine(ing)
**Author's Note:**
> This fic isn't rly going to follow muuuch logic, so if the why and the when are of big importance to you... ^^; sorry !! That being said this is going to be fluff all the way down with a side of character analysis. Always looking for betas or just kind samaritans to leave constructive crit or corrections! <3
“_Where_ are we _going_,” an annoyed, and quite annoy_ing_ voice questioned, likely for the hundredth time. Ignis could only sigh, pushing his glasses up with a knuckle, letting his fingers slide back around the wheel to make a turn. It had been going on like this for quite some time, Ignis had never felt more like an annoyed parent with an insufferable child than this moment. If not Noctis, it was lucky someone here had the patience of a saint.
“Need you ask again, Noct? I told you to trust me, you will surely enjoy the destination.” He’s nearly glad to hear the groan that signals another moment or so of silence before the next questioning. It’s possible they could have avoided the headache of a ‘surprise birthday destination’ by simply...not having it be a surprise. He is almost kicking himself for heeding Gladio’s suggestion on this one. Yet...he almost felt it’d be worth it, if they could at the very least pry one smile out of the...what was the phrasing Prompto had used…
My Chemical Romance reject?
Ignis has to suppress the slight grin that threatens to ghost across his lips, clearing his throat and swiping a thumb across his brow. He turns his head toward the passenger seat as Prompto pulls himself up and turns to the boys in the back, excitedly showing them some of the photos from their last hunt. Apparently, a chocobo had photobombed one of them mid swing, and looked “super fucking impressed” at the “baddassery”.
Did Prompto think he went deaf while he was driving? He gently flicks the exposed calf of said blond, smirking at the outraged squawk. Yet, regardless, he holds on to Prompto’s leg as he makes a turn, protectively. It always gave him anxiety when Prompto did that. He’s lucky the other man allowed him this shred of security, holding on to him like a concerned parent on a roller coaster. He felt as if he could keel over when Noctis rose out of his chair to sit with his entire body out of the car. He always slowed when he did, to the annoyance of the cars behind them.
“It may please you to know we are merely a stop or two away from our destination,” Ignis announces, as they pull in to an outpost. He leaves Noctis to handle filling up the car, heading off to use the restroom, in more of a move to get a moment without the interrogation Noctis was intent on. Returning shortly, he finds Gladio and Noct chatting quietly, Prompto taking a picture of them. It says a lot that despite knowing full well they’re being shot, they take no heed. Prompto had trained them to “look natural”. He wonders what they’re speaking of. Noct seems to be in a teasing mood, if his facial expression was any indication. Gladio was relaxed, warm...so openly fond. He swallows.
He’s not even phased when Prompto all but crashes into his side. Eyebrow rising, he turns to find a camera shutter clicking closed in front of him, his confusion turning to a soft smile as it clicks closed again. Prompto smiles at his camera a moment later, sighing, “You always look so majestic when you’re contemplating. Like a mystical Princess awaiting her steed.” He then turns to the other two, “Guys, fooood!”
Noct calls back with a dry “fooood sounds good, let’s go.”
He catches the soft guiding touch of Gladio’s hand on Noct’s elbow, leading him around the car and letting go only as the other went ahead of him. He has to breathe in the cool air to vent out the warmth that swells in his chest. He waves them ahead, stopping to move the car away from the pump and put the hood up. He takes a moment to get himself together, perhaps too long, as his phone receives three separate messages asking if he’s okay. Glancing at the clock, he raises an eyebrow. It’s only been a few minutes. Silly boys.
He startles when there’s a knock on the car, Prompto making a face into the window. He steps out, smiling fondly. “What is it, couldn’t live without me for a few minutes?”
Prompto gasps, a hand on his heart, “How dare you utter such words! We couldn’t live without you for a second!” It seems that’s it for him, as he’s happily chattering about this or that as he near skips back to the diner, expecting Ignis in tow.
While Prompto seems unphased by his own words, Ignis has to pause a moment. Perhaps he’s taking things too seriously, it was just a quip after all, but...he felt misty at the words. He knew what his boys were feeling, as well. Just a few moments without one of them in his sights or sounds had him instantly searching for them. Conversation always flowed so easily between the four of them that when even one was absent, it felt...incomplete. Like a clipped circuit, an interrupted current. He feels that tension when he sits, too, being enveloped back into the familiar flow of it all. His mind teeters into dangerous territory, and he banishes all thoughts of the ‘what if’ variety. |
35db3f8fe8c84b6b832d715682ddb6bf | ['7ec06218cb3b4977964e41fd208e4bae'] | The Bet
**Author's Note:**
> I wrote this several years ago, around season 6 or 7. But I figure which season it was created for doesn't really matter, so decided to post it anyway now that I've finally joined this fine site. Hope you enjoy!
”I don’t care how many martial arts you know, I could still do it” cocky Anthony DiNozzo argued.
“Well how about a bet then?” Timothy McGee rose from his desk where he’d discreetly followed his co-workers discussion. The comment made Tony and Ziva turn around abruptly.
“What? Come on, there won’t be a bet, McGee” Ziva exclaimed.
“Why not?” Tony turned around “’cos you know I’m right, Ziva?”
“I was more thinking because I’d feel bad for you getting several limbs broken” Ziva glared up to the senior field agent. Her dark eyes filled with danger. “But if you insist”
“After work tonight, down at the gym” Tony extended his hand to the Israeli to shake. “And if I win, you have to wear the lederhosen I gave you, every day for a week” Ziva had belief in her skills and didn’t hesitate for a second.
“And when I win, you have to… hmmm… Colour your hair” At the woman’s command Tony’s left hand went protectively up to his beloved hair, he considered it for a few seconds and then reluctantly shook Ziva’s extended hand. “It’s a bet” They said in unison, both as certain that they would be the winner.
“What’s a bet?” The team’s fearless leader came into the bullpen. All three agents looked up at Gibbs.
“Erm…” McGee mumbled as he scrambled back to his desk.
“Tony here is certain that he could knock me up” Ziva explained smugly. The wrong use of expression caused Tony to smile amused, and the never surprised Gibbs to actually raise an eyebrow.
“Out, Ziva. Knock you out” McGee corrected.
“What’s the difference?” Ziva asked as Gibbs continued to his desk.
“I’d think you’d notice” Tony smiled. “But let me know if you ever wanna take that bet, Officer David. ‘Cos I’m pretty certain I’d win that one too”
Ziva, who finally understood her mistake exclaimed: “In your dreams, DiNozzo”
“Oh you’d love that wouldn’t…” Tony shot back, only to be interrupted by their boss.
“HEY! Would it be too much to ask for if you people could actually do some work around here?”
“Working, boss!” was Tony and Ziva’s answer as they sat back down by their desks to resume their duties.
Timothy McGee was earlier at the office then usual the next morning. He’d planned to sneak down to the gym the night before to witness the fight between his team-mates, but luck had had it that his sister had called to remind him about their mother’s birthday dinner. Now he was desperate to see who the winner was, he knew from experience that both Tony and Ziva had excellent combat skills and had had no idea who to put his money on. McGee jumped as the elevator dinged, but he was disappointed to see that it was only Gibbs coming out from it clutching his first coffee of the day.
“McGee” Gibbs greeted with a nod.
“Morning, boss” McGee answered absent minded. Only minutes later Gibbs finished his coffee, threw the cup in the trashcan and told McGee as he walked by,
“I’m going out for coffee” McGee just nodded his answer and continued on his rapport, but he still jumped up at every elevator ding. About ten minutes after Gibbs left, the time McGee had been waiting for came. The elevator doors opened and Tim could see Ziva coming out, he couldn’t see if she was wearing lederhosen yet though. Since the view of her body was blocked by the walls separating their bullpen to the others. But he didn’t have to wait to see her outfit to know who the winner was, since the next person out from the elevator was Tony, strutting along as self-confident as always even though his hair was now as red as an tomato. The pair entered the bullpen and McGee couldn’t help but to giggle. Ziva sat down at her desk and as Tony sat down at his own desk she couldn’t help but to start giggle as well.
“Morning probie” Tony greeted a little less cheerful than usual.
“Morning” McGee managed to answer between fits of laughter. The elevator doors dinged open again, this time revealing Gibbs with his second cup of coffee. He walked into the bullpen, ready to yell at his senior field agent for being late as always, but the sight that greeted him almost made him choke on his treasured drink.
“DiNozzo! What the hell happened to you?” He exclaimed.
“Thought I needed a change, boss.” Tony showed off his infamous smile “And I knew how much you love red-heads” Quickly getting over the surprise Gibbs continued to his desk,
“If you actually thought dying your hair like my ex-wives would make me like you more, think again, DiNozzo” Leroy Jethro Gibbs said and took another sip of his drink, but only to hide the smile creeping up on his face. | 516357232acf401e89b71a487fbd9706 | ['7ec06218cb3b4977964e41fd208e4bae'] | “What have I done?! I’m sooo sorry, Keano. I really didn’t mean to! Where are you hurt? Is it bad?” Damien was almost pulling his fair hair off his head as Robbie gave some more whimpering sounds. “Oh no! We need you! You have to be alright! We can’t play without you, Rob. I can’t play without you!” Damien was in quite a state by now. He had no idea what to do, should he try to carry Robbie back to the facilities or should he run for help? Robbie was actually starting to feel sorry for the older man and broke his whimpering silence.
“Ahh… I don’t think it’s really that bad, it may be okay. Help me up?” Damien was feeling relieved as he put his hands forward to pull Robbie up from the ground. But with a quick pull at the hands Robbie made Damien fall forward into the pile of mud, that was the pitch, next to him. The shocked expression on the wingers face was so incredible it had Robbie in stitches. Damien quickly came to terms on what had happened and didn’t look quite as happy as the striker beside him.
“Come on D, it was funny!” Robbie sniggered at his friend’s fallen face. He bent over him to look him directly in his eyes. “‘I’m sooo sorry, Rob. What have I done!?! We need you, I can’t play without you’” Robbie gimmicked.
“Ah, grow up, “Baby Irish”” Damien sulked. He couldn’t believe he had fallen for that simple trick.
“Haha, come on Damo, cheer up! We’ll call it a draw?” Robbie coaxed and on an impulse bent down and gave the sulking strawberry blond a kiss. Damien’s eyes widen in surprise and Robbie pulled up quickly as he realised what he had done. He searched the wingers eyes for disgust and despise but found none. Damien was shocked, and frightened, not frightened by the kiss itself but rather what he felt when Robbie pulled away. Was it disappointment? And before he knew it his hand had snuck up into the brown shaggy haircut that was Robbie’s and guided the handsome face down for another kiss, a proper one this time.
A few sweet kisses later Robbie pulled back and looked down on the two of them, still lying on the pitch in the pouring rain.
“My mom would kill me if she saw me know” He stated.
“Really?” Damien’s face suddenly lost all colour. Was this regret?
“Look at me! I’m all covered in mud!” Robbie exclaimed which made Damien laugh. “What?” he asked, “Why are you laughing?” But Damien hadn’t the time to answer as they heard the coach screaming at them through the rain.
“What are you guys up to?!” The two players quickly pulled apart looking embarrassed, “Are you crazy, you’ll catch your death! Get in here, now!” Steve walked back to the dressing room muttering something about stupid kids risking their health playing in the rain. Robbie and Damien smiled sheepishly at each other and started making their way back to the dressing room.
“First one back, wins the game?”
“You’re on!”
And with that the two footballers, filled with new energy, ran like little children, in the rain towards the training facilities at the other end of the green field. |
cd11e20e08994af8b71bf9a54a2added | ['7ec2a3f6d98146da87009c757a82db77'] |
1. Chapter 1
Jack had always hated parties, parties that only housed people he didn't know or exactly like, parties that just occupied dumb and daft teenagers who didn't have a fucking clue what they were doing.
"It will be fun," His friend Sam had said, "You'll enjoy it when you're there," He claimed. Well, Sam, I've been here only a few minutes and already I deteste the place, Jack thought, adding a quality eye roll. Bummer, negative Nancy whatever. Jack wasn't exactly comfortable here. The place was filled with disturbing amounts of alcohol, cigarettes and weed, people were getting drunk left, right and centre. The place also had a weird vibe to it, it wasn't positive vibes anyway.
Sam had abandoned him ages ago. Asshole.
Jack slipped past a tight group of people terribly dancing and chilled at the window, opening it a little to get some decent fresh, cool air, the room had gotten major warm and was making him even more uncomfortable. He half observed the wonderful raindrops that pelted against the glass, his mind wondered to other things.
He felt a poke on his arm, flinching away from the contact and spotting the criminal.
Of Course.
Mark fucking Fischbach.
5'10.
Overly gentle, deep burnt cinnamon eyes.
Straight black hair with blue tips, that developed the smallest of waves, in which he flawlessly brushed back with his large hands.
Wide shoulders, built body, probably a set of abs under that burgundy, chest hugging tee he wore.
Some facial hair.
Black lip ring on the left side of his lips.
Cocky smile.
Shamefully Jack thought he looked pretty damn hot and hated it.
Jack gulped. He was far from prepared to deal with Mark.
"Jack," Mark spoke slowly in the deep voice he owned. In normality, his voice would've been soothing, but right now, it just sent waves of slight fear towards Jack. Jack hated Mark. Mark hated Jack.
The hatred had went on for a year and a half. Ironically, they used to be best friends, brothers almost, people sometimes thought they were a gay couple which was dismissed constantly. This had all lasted up till when Jack's girlfriend had basically cheated with Mark, breaking off the relationship with the Irish man to be replaced by Mark. Apparently he had talked get into this, Jack was still unsure of this, it was something Mark was capable of, but he quickly blamed the both of them. A few days later, Mark dumped Jack's ex. After that the tension and uneasiness had gotten so great that their friendship went to shit basically. Mark then one day lashed out on Jack, his anger taking over, blaming Jack for everything that went wrong and more, Jack being a normal person defends himself, then it ending up Mark punching Jack multiple times, calling him all this bitter shit and hurting Jack. After that, Jack avoided Mark, he avoided him like The Black Plague or The Spanish Flu. Mark became t o x i c.
"Mark," Jack replied dryly, hoping that the dickhead beside him would just leave already, literally anywhere but this small area Jack occupied.
"Fancy seeing you here," H e spoke again, leaning against the wall besides the window, arms folded, eyes pasted to Jack, who in return continued looking away.
"Sam," Was all he said, clenching his Jaw, hating the sheer intimidating, even authorative aura Mark gave off, it seriously bothered him. He kept his eyes away.
"Ahh, and where's he?" Jack shrugged, beginning to feel Mark's heated breath on his skin, he tried to ignore it. "I didn't know I invited you to my party," Jack rolled his eyes and moved away, still facing Mark.
"Well, it's not like I exactly want to fucking be here," Jack glared at the taller teen, feeling his cheeks heating, looking away.
"Then leave,"
"Oh fucking make me Fischbach," Jack challenged, clearly pushing his luck.
2. Chapter 2
Mark gripped Jack's jaw and raised a dark eyebrow, chuckling.
"Feisty, are we Jack?"
Jack proceeded to propel Mark's hand away and glare at him.
"Fuck off Mark, I don't want to fucking associate myself with you again," Jack said blunty , waiting on what sort of reply Mark would give, honestly preparing for an outburst. But surprisenly Mark just chuckled again, he thought this was funny.
"Fucking prick," Jack said under his breath, biting the insides of his cheeks. Mark brought Jack's comment to attention, obviously hearing what was said.
"What was that Jack? What did you say about me?" He questioned, sarcastically.
"Oh you heard me Mark,"
"I did?"
"Yes, you did," Jack scoffed, rolling his baby blue eyes.
"I'm not so sure, maybe you should say it to my face instead?"
"Ugh, goodbye," Jack proceeded to trudge away from the area they have previously been standing in when Mark grabbed his wrist hard and tugged him back.
"Not so fast, Kiddo,"
"Get fucked," Jack replied, ripping his wrist away from the grasp of Mark's hand and quickly disappearing into the awful dancing people to escape Mark.
He pushed into the kitchen where his eyes met with Sam's slight achned face, "There you are, asshole," Jack thought, making his journey from the kitchen doorway to where Sam and a good few others were smoking blunts and laughing at whatever the hell joke was told by some dude with a buzzcut.
"Sam," Jack spoke when he got to Sam, the blonde mop headed boy looking over in Jack's direction, his eyes squinting when he recognised his friend.
"Yoo Jack, man,"; He drawled happily, coughing shortly after.
"Dude, I need to talk to you for like 2 seconds,"
"But man, I'm-"
"I don't care right now," Jack grabbed Sam by the arm and dragged him to the back garden where more teens were, ignoring them. "Mark Fischbach is here,"
"Oh yeah I know, this is his house,"
"His HOUSE? DUDE-"
"Dude, it's chill, it's chill, he won't bother you," | 36284222e6184e2f86c6e46885336379 | ['7ec2a3f6d98146da87009c757a82db77'] | "Can I try something?" Mark asked as his head rose from the area of Jack's body he was eating at; Jack was unsure but was curious as to what Mark had in mind, a little too curious for his own good. He nodded unsurely and Mark took this as confirmation, reaching under the bed until his hand brushed against what he was looking for, uplifting a box and setting it onto the bed. Jack stared at it in wonder, confused as to what it had to do with anything that was happening right now or something completely different. He did still have the weed in his system so obviously his general approach would be a lot more cloudy than what it would normally be, but patiently he waited until Mark opened the box whilst looking at Jack and trying to stop himself from grinning. Jack didn't have to clue as to what was in that plain black box that he felt so compelled to try and sneak a quick peak when Mark's hand went up and stopped him.
"No, sit back," Jack obeyed and rested back, relaxing up against the headboard, patiently waiting on Mark. "Close your eyes," Mark spoke gently and for some reason Jack trusted him enough to do this, keeping his eyes closed even when Mark sat besides him and metal rattled in his hand. Even then Jack knew what was in that box because he felt it on his wrists and they were being pulled up against the posts, one by one, his wrists were held tightly in place. "Okay you can open them now,"
Jack opened his eyes to a smug Mark and the confirmation that handcuffs were what bond his wrists, they looked pretty expensive too, not the kind you can buy in shops that have the easy opening switch, but legit 'You can't get rid of these unless you had the keys,' kinda ones. Normally Jack would've panicked or at least gotten overly nervous at this point, but right now all he felt was calm, and he...liked it for once. It felt like he didn't have a worry in the world and that feeling was pretty rare, but was it a good thing?
Jack diverted his eyes to Mark's who looked back with a devious expression on his face, he finally had Jack at his mercy, and Jack wasn't complaining, all Jack was doing was staring back at Mark with that oh, so innocent look on his face, topless, beginning to softly bite his lip and shifting his eyes away. Even seeing Jack like this, like that, in his bed, was enough to turn him on.
Jack tugged on the restraints to check if they were actually working, and to no avail, they worked too well.
"I've never done this before," Jack stated almost mutely, looking back at Mark, sucking on his bottom lip. Mark couldn't resist anymore and he crawled onto the bed towards Jack, meeting face to face with the younger boy and kissing him nimbly on the lips, before moving closer and deepening the kiss, grasping Jack's neck, grasping Jack's hip, their kissing a mixture of lust and heat, rough hands melding velvety skin and desires becoming realities.
Mark peeled off Jack's trousers as fluently as he could muster, letting them sag onto the floor with the smallest of flops, going back up to kiss Jack again before letting his mouth and tongue trek slowly down Jack's pasty body, leaving the pale skin with pinks and reds, that would eventually fade to browns and purples, art at it's finest.
He kissed Jack's naval before letting his mouth wander over Jack's boxers, applying pressure with his mouth over the fabric separating his mouth and Jack's progressively more harder length. Jack tugged on the handcuffs and threw his head back onto the pillows behind him, whining in protest to Mark's sly teasing; Mark quietly chuckled at the helpless Jack and proceed to hook his fingers under Jack's underwear, lazily slipping them off whilst kissing his abdomen, sliding them off to Jack's ankles and onto the floor.
Mark continued to tease Jack with his mouth and hands, his mouth lazily kissing around Jack's pubic area but avoiding his lenghth, and his hands slowly rubbing up and down Jack's thighs, using his nails to softly scrape the fine skin.
Jack moaned and began to bit his lip again, Mark spotting this and reaching up to kiss Jack and bite his lip, hard.
"Mine,"
Mark let one of his hands slither around Jack's length, casually, gently beginning to stroke Jack, receiving a whimper, in which Mark knew Jack wanted more, so he'd give him more, but still continue to tease; It was quite an enjoyable experience. He continued to leisurely stroke Jack whilst he brought his tongue down and let it slide over the tip of Jack's length, making Jack arch ever so slightly in the hopes Mark would give him more, but no, in Mark's world it was still too early for "more," so he continued to tease Jack until he was almost begging for Mark to just move on, to stop teasing him, it was a dick move, apparently (unintentional pun too). Mark laughed to himself at the sheer power he had over Jack right now, both of them being fully erect in the process.
Mark's tongue slid up and down the length of Jack, over the tip, carelessly bringing Jack's length properly into his mouth and beginning to suck him off. Mark was good at this, he knew, he'd done it enough times before, and from the noises Jack was making, or the way Jack's thighs were tightening and tensing around his head, there was no doubt that he was enjoying this; Mark knew it, and loved it. |
d0722f2dd5b14102991e6c22dd71e6c0 | ['7ed5c56896fa4fb381960159b4d46165'] | The walls were bare brick, vintage concert posters prominent amidst a background of show tickets, guitars, and album artwork. Classic rock LINK, just soft enough to not interrupt the conversational chatter. Tables crowded under the dim lighting in no particular order as customers rearranged things as needs became apparent. Leather couches lined the walls, every one of them occupied. There was a dog in one corner in a worn bed, and another under a table at its owner’s feet. Customers sang along to the classic rock emanating from a truly impressive sound system. The pastry boxes were black and printed with band logos and, oddly enough, occult symbols. A collection of framed tickets citing noise complaints and speeding tickets hung proudly on the wall behind the cash register.
Despite the clutter, the memorabilia, and the sheer number of people, it was spotless.
“Fuck,” said Dean Winchester, who still hadn’t taken the papers. “Really? Son of a _bitch_.”
“My parents were legitimately married when they had me,” Castiel asserted, jiggling the papers hopefully.
There was a long pause. “Who the hell are you?”
“Castiel Novak. I am a senior tax auditor for the IRS.”
Dean, who had finally reached for the papers, froze with his hand outstretched. “Castiel? _You’re_ Castiel?”
Castiel nodded, somewhat baffled.
“You’re fucking joking.”
“I don’t joke,” Castiel assured him. “It’s not legal.”
“Well, _you’re…_ not legal,” Dean said, ending on a half-wince. He gathered himself and stomped his way over to the counter to restock the towers of coffee cups by the register. The blonde girl helping a customer shot him a look but rolled her eyes and moved aside with the ease of long practice.
Castiel followed, too-aware of the eyes on them. “If we could sit and talk—“
Dean’s thumb popped up, angled back over his shoulder toward the kitchen. “Smell that? That’s apple pie in the oven. Not. Abandoning. The pie. We talk here.” His voice was low, almost a dare.
“You haven’t paid part of your taxes,” Castiel said, and instantly felt better. This was familiar ground. He was used to this part. This was the ‘you must be mistaken’ part, or perhaps the ‘I swear I sent that in, I promise I did,’ or maybe even the ‘oh god, I’m going to jail, I’m so sorry’ spiel.
“Yeah,” Dean said on a shrug, “I know.”
“What,” Castiel said.
“I’m at 72%,” said Dean, “and that’s all you’re gonna get, man.”
Castiel stared, personal rules forgotten. “I don’t understand,” he said, when it became clear that Dean wasn’t going to elaborate. “You seem to have a successful business. Are you having trouble breaking even?”
Dean bristled—
_\--like a ruffled ~~dog~~ cat, and Castiel felt a moment of panic—_
“Oh no,” Castiel had enough time to say—
_\--upon realizing that the other man was incredibly attractive even when ~~pissed off~~ fuming._
“ _What?_ ”
Dean froze, still tense all over, some of the belligerence fading in confusion. “What?” he echoed.
_Castiel couldn’t answer. Couldn’t answer because the way Winchester held himself made it clear that even though he spent his life among baked goods, he was built more like a soldier than what Castiel had always thought of as the classic pastry chef’s physique. Broad shoulders filled out the Led Zeppelin shirt l ~~ike it was their job~~ and from the glimpse he’d gotten before Dean had retreated behind the counter, the jeans hadn’t been lacking either. _
He rallied. “Why haven’t you paid your taxes, Mr. Winchester?” The desperation was mostly hidden. He thought. He hoped.
Dean reached out and snatched the papers, setting them down almost instantly out of Castiel’s reach. “I refuse to pay for something I don’t believe in.”
“That’s now how the system works,” Castiel informed him, relaxing slightly as the voice stayed quiet. “If you don’t pay your full—“
A timer in the back went off, and Dean held up a finger, too close to Castiel’s nose to be polite, and went to rescue his pie.
The girl at the register, pretty and dark-eyed, shot him an unsympathetic look. “You drew the wrong straw with this case.”
“It was supposed to be easy,” he said, more to himself than to her.
She laughed at him, but not unkindly.
When Dean—Mr. Winchester, Castiel insisted to himself on a losing battleground—came back, dishtowel slung over one shoulder, he lost no time getting right back up in Castiel’s face, leaning across the counter and glaring. “Look man, taxes for kids to go to school? Fine. Paying to fix the roads? Cool, whatever. I don’t have a problem paying for a little old lady’s hip replacement. I have a problem paying for shit that never makes it to help the people that really need it. I have a problem with all the corruption in the system. So I just don’t pay that part.”
_Dean’s eyes snapped, green green green in the warm lighting of the bakery. Even now, with less anger and more conviction, they were captivating. Castiel had always had a weakness for eyes, fully believing in the old saying that they were the window to the soul. He thought now that Dean Winchester probably had a very pure soul. ~~Oh god this is corny help.~~_
“I don’t understand,” Castiel said, trying valiantly to ignore it and focus. Except now he didn’t want to make eye contact, too afraid that Dean would see something there. | 87b10a5e32004e1cbb3c73367cdaebb6 | ['7ed5c56896fa4fb381960159b4d46165'] |
Chemistry
**Author's Note:**
> Written for the Teen Wolf Holiday Exchange over on tumblr, and based on asterixgazer's amazing prompt, 'Peter is the world's biggest Sterek shipper'. I laughed so hard I knew I had to give it a go.
>
> Also, because I'm a sucker for 5+1 fics, and I have no self-control.
>
> This is either mild crack or just Peter being Peter.
Peter had been around the block a few times. {He’d also set it on fire once or twice, but they don’t talk about that.} He knows about these kinds of things. The problem is getting his wangst-ridden nephew and the mouthy teenager to stop being such low-level morons.
No, they’re lower than low-level. They’re positively sub-atomic. Because even atoms could take one look at this ridiculous situation and realise that something was going on between them. It was simple _chemistry_ , for Christ’s sake.
“Okay, you know what?” Stiles’s fingers dug into Derek’s shoulder. Peter noted {the way that he always did when it came to these two: with great interest} that although his nephew’s eyes flickered into a brief show of red, Stiles appeared to neither notice nor care. “I swear to god I will shoot you if you keep moving. This is delicate work, okay?”
“Just shut up and stitch it,” Derek growled.
“Do what?” Stiles asked. “Sew you back together so no one can see your ribs anymore? Keep you from bleeding out over the couch? Come up with a way to flush that wolfsbane out of your system? Save your miserable existence so you can go back to loitering in the shadows and being the stuff of children’s nightmares? No, I hadn’t thought about it. I think I’ll just let you die because you’re such a baby you can’t even stay in one place.” Despite the words, his hands moved quick and careful along the ragged edge of the wound, tugging torn flesh back together.
“You could always just leave.”
Peter rolled his eyes from where he lounged in the doorway. Like _that_ was going to happen. He wasn’t even surprised when Stiles proceeded to go on a lengthy rant about _trust_ and _feelings_ and _really, you asshole, two years of me saving your ass and we’re still on about this, how can one person be so emotionally fucking constipated_.
“We never could get him to hold still for shots when he was younger,” Peter mused. “Scared of the needle.”
Stiles’s eyes lit up. “Shots? Please tell me they were for rabies.”
“I hate you both,” Derek said from the floor.
Peter grinned and decided that this whole charade had gone on long enough.
~
He didn’t hang around Beacon Hills too often because although he was clearly the better-looking and more sociable Hale, everyone else seemed a bit late to get the memo. So he just dropped in every couple of months to make sure the fledgling pack was in working order and to rile up his favourite {currently only} nephew by stealing the Camaro and leaving it in increasingly bizarre places around town. Three months ago, it was the impound yard at the police station, this month, the animal shelter. All of this was just a smokescreen so that he could check in on the relationship status of said nephew because he had a {perfectly healthy, thank you} interest in other’s personal lives. But mostly because he cared.
Things were going depressingly slow. And although Peter could be very patient when the situation called for it, he thought that the faster this little loveboat moved along, the better. Derek had a right to be happy, though Peter would sooner set himself on fire than come close to admitting it. Maybe get someone to salt his remains. Not Derek, Derek would have been the one to provide the fuel for the flames. The Hale men were notorious for being unable to express so-called ‘feelings’. None of this changed the fact that Derek needed someone, and that someone seemed to be Stiles.
Okay, okay, hear him out. Derek hadn’t always had these trust issues. Peter could recall a time when his nephew had actually known how to smile, to use his words instead of his fangs. Stiles was the person that could get in between the cracked edges and smooth him back out. Derek would probably never be the same as he was before Kate, but when he was around Stiles, he... regressed. Not entirely, and not that anyone other than Peter could actually realise that it was happening, but it was nice to see the undercurrent of resigned amusement and relaxation instead of just a wall of sheer rage. Stiles was harder to get a read on, but he was such an expressive, tightly-wound ball of manic energy that it was impossible not to see the way he brightened when Derek was around. The two little bastards deserved each other. And the undoubtedly fantastic sex would mellow them both out.
Never mind that the UST was _killing_ him. He could smell the constant want and need coming off of both of them, for Christ’s sake. It didn’t matter if it was Stiles who happened to turn in time to catch Derek shirtless, or if it was Derek who watched from the window as Stiles came in, clothes soaked and plastered to his skin from the rain, the result was always the same: the hot-spice scent of arousal, thick and cloying in the back of Peter’s throat. Derek was much better at hiding it than Stiles was, but there were some things that Peter could pick up, and they weren’t things he really needed to know about his nephew. It was enough to drive anyone insane. More insane. Point being, it was time to kick this shit into gear.
~*~
“Hey! You dickhead, _get back here_! What the fuck are you doing?” |
6ec64bf8100d4cdb84d4a8688f9302c6 | ['7ed92b3541ff49ddb262182d151f64a7'] | Richie meets Eddie in the bathroom, Eddie looks at him and sighs, "you better let me wash your hair for you tomorrow, you're a mess," he smirks, looking up at his boyfriend.
"You never cease to make silk pajama sets look cool, spaghetti," Richie teases, going in for a kiss.
"Richie- brush your teeth, you reek of smoke," Eddie says, putting his hand over Richie's mouth before Richie can kiss him.
"Fine, no good night kiss for you then," Richie says teasingly, shrugging his shoulders and smirking.
"Oh get over here, dork," Eddie rolls his eyes, standing on his toes to press a kiss to Richie's lips, Stan coming up behind them and wrapping his arms around Eddie's waist.
"Get a room, you idiots," he says with a fond smile.
"We do, this room is for _all_ of us," Eddie says, turning around in Stan's arms and pressing a kiss to his jaw. "But it _is_ actually time for bed," he reminds them with a small smile.
The losers are lucky to have two beds in the room, hardly fitting into them despite cuddling close. Eddie slides into bed in front of Bill, who has Mike tucked behind him. Stan tucks himself up to Mike. In the other bed, Ben has himself wrapped around Bev, and Richie is curled up in a ball against Bev, but knowing how restlessly he sleeps, he'd probably end up in starfish position on top of both of them by morning.
2. "Sun Lube"
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The losers get ready for day one of their trip, proving just how chaotic they are.
"Sunscreen, sunscreen, sunscreen!" Eddie reminds while dousing Richie in it with the bottle for the third time that morning. They hadn't even left yet.
Ben has thick lines on his nose and cheeks, looking like a cartoon character at the beach. Bi notices, walking over to cup Ben's cheeks and rub it in with his thumbs with a soft smile. "Thank you," Ben says softly, looking up at Bill with a little grin dancing on his lips.
Richie chokes on some of the inhaled spray, "Eds- Eds I think I'm good!" He says quickly, eyeing the sheen across his arms.
"Don't want you burnt," Eddie says sheepishly, pressing a kiss to Richie's nose before rubbing a dab of sunscreen in there too.
"I think I'm more at risk to slip on the ground on all this sun-lube than I am to burn," he assures Eddie, shoving him away at that final dab of sunscreen.
Mike walks over to Bev, who is spraying the sunscreen on herself, "Hey, you're going to get a patchy burn that way," Mike says softly, putting his hand out in an offer to help.
"Thanks, Mike," she smiles as he rubs it over her bare back.
"We ready?" Stan asks, picking up his plain black drawstring, "I've got water, extra sunscreen," he nods over at Eddie, "the map, and our wallets," he checks off, tapping his fingers as he lists them off.
Bill nods, slipping his shoes on, "Sounds ab-bout right," he agrees, wrapping his flannel around his waist. Eddie turns to face them, putting his Mickey ears on, making Bill snicker childishly.
"Yeah, I think we have everything then, everyone bring sweatshirts or something, I don't want you to complain to me about being cold when it starts getting darker!" He rattles off, tucking his t-shirt into his red shorts.
Mike pulls a folded map from his pocket, holding it up as proof that he has one too, "I checked over last night, I know where just about everything is," he says with a sheepish smile.
"Should we make smaller groups? I know you don't like rides much, Ben, and neither do you, Mike," Bill suggests, "Maybe you two and Stan can go off together for a while, while we go on the crazy roller coasters," Bill smiles slightly.
"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea, we can all have more fun that way," Stan agrees with a nod, "We'll meet at lunch, I'll text you guys the location an hour before," he informs them.
"Alright!" Ben agrees with a grin, "Oh gosh, can we get pictures taken with that bear? Duffy?" He asks, looking at Stan for the answer, knowing Mike would probably agree.
Stan's seriousness softens, always holding a specific soft spot for Ben, walking over and taking his hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. "Of course, Benny," he grins.
Ben giggles lightly, folding over his socks and holding his hand out to Mike as well, who gladly takes it, "let's go!" He says excitedly, leading them to the door, "We'll see you guys at lunch!" He shouts back to the others as they disappear out of the door.
They wave them off, Eddie clasping his fanny pack around his waist.
"Ay! Spaghetti! The one place you'll fit in with that thing!" Richie comments with a wide grin, getting a gentle smack on the shoulder from Eddie.
"Jesus, I hate you," Eddie says through a grin he can't hide.
Bev takes Bill's hand, looking over at the two fondly, "How are we going to keep them from killing each other today?" She asks him with a smirk, watching Eddie wrestle Richie onto the bed.
3. Cotton Candy
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Here this goes -Stan Uris 2k18
Ben clasps his hands with Mike's again, on their way to get more pictures with characters. By now, Stan has on a necktie with Mickey heads all down it, Mike got mouse ears, and Ben got a baseball cap (that he plans to give Bill when they meet up later; they always joke about him going bald first, especially because his emo/scene phase in highschool). | 8416b48efcd5434690b00ab246aa964c | ['7ed92b3541ff49ddb262182d151f64a7'] |
1. Three Dudes And A Baby
"so, Bill, tell me again why you thought you had the jurisdiction to tell Richie he can take my other spare room?" Stan says, looking annoyed and staring at the door.
Bill walks out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, "because he's like a brother to us?" He says as if it's obvious.
"But he's _Richie_ , you're bad enough," Stan says, shaking his head. "We're labelling the food in the fridge again, he won't listen, but we can say it was there," Stan says with a smirk.
"C'mon Stan, it'll be alright," Bill smiles, heading over by his room again. "His parents basically raised me! It's the least we could do!"
"Funny they raised you both and he turned out like that- wait actually you're not too different," Stan jokes, his gaze shooting back to the door when he hears a knock. He walks over and opens it lazily, "Hey, Richie," he says, rolling his eyes.
"Hey stanthony!" Richie exclaims, walking in like he's been living there for years, "Love what you've done with the place, my boys!" He grins, seeing bill changing with the door open, "oy! Billiam! Your balls finally dropped!" He teases.
Bill immediately goes to cover himself, yanking his boxers to be less _naked_. "Oh shut up, Dick!" Bill yells back, kicking his door shut so he can finish getting dressed in peace.
There's another knock on the door which leaves Richie and Stan looking at each other in confusion. "You didn't invite anyone, right?" Stan asks, raising his eyebrow.
"Nah, you two are the only welcome party I need," Richie grins, going in to hug Stan but gets pushed away in the other man's effort to get to the door.
"Hello?" He asks when he opens the door and finds nobody, before hearing gibberish from below. His jaw drops and he looks back to Richie, looking panicked and gestures for him to come over and look.
"Uhhh- did someone order a baby?" Richie asks when he sees what's on the doorstep.
"What?" Bill calls from his room, not having heard what was asked, walking out finally dressed. Stan and Richie part to reveal the car seat and child within it. "That's not mine," Bill says quietly, eyeing it nervously.
"It could be?" Stan suggests, "it's got blue eyes," he mentions, looking between the group of them, "it's a recessive trait, mom and dad almost always have to have them," he says softly, looking between the kid and Bill.
Bill walks over with his hands pressed to his eyes, "damn, did I really-?" He asks himself, lifting the car seat, bringing it into the apartment and shutting the door behind him. He puts the car seat on the coffee table.
"So... D'we take it out?" Richie asks, standing near the entrance with his arms crossed over his chest.
"Uh- I guess," Bill Responds, pulling the blanket off from the belts, unbuckling them and trying to lift the child carefully enough, putting them up against his chest, a hand on their upper back and under her butt.
"D'awww, Billy, it is yours, fatherly instinct," Richie coos, going closer to study the face of the infant.
"Looks just like ya!" Richie exclaims, tapping the baby's nose.
"Ohhhh god- it smells," Bill says, holding the baby a bit farther from himself, looking into the car seat, shifting the blanket to search, finding a slip of paper.
"Oh thank god, a note!" Bill exclaims, setting the baby down to study it.
"Her name is Maria, she's three months, fuck- okay you guys were right. I'm a fucking father," he sighs, pacing a bit.
"Who's the mommy?" Richie asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"Uhhh, I dunno?" Bill hums out sheepishly, _three months. Nine months. A year? Who was I sleeping with a year ago?_ He thinks to himself, biting his lip in concentration.
"A year ago? Wasn't that Beverly?" Stan asks, thinking faster than Bill is, "the redhead, teased you because you almost looked like siblings," he remembers, tapping his pointer finger to his chin.
Bill nods, "yeah- yeah- I'd think so. Why the fuck wouldn't she have talked to be about this?" He sighs in exasperation, pacing some more.
"Ah that spicy one, I met her once I think," Richie comments, shimmying his shoulders when he calls her spicy, "you banged a hot one but you didn't use a condom?" Richie sighs disappointedly.
Stan looks sheepishly from his spot where he stands, "once I poked a hole in one of bill's condoms, we argued, I was pissed!" He says, his voice getting high and nervous. "And you just _happened_ to use that _one_ ," Stan sighs, looking down at his feet.
"Stan what the _fuck_?" Bill nearly shrieks, causing the baby to start crying, "fuck and she needs diapers, why the fuck don't we have diapers? Stan- I'll deal with you later," he sighs, grabbing his jacket and just walking out the door.
"Jay-zus," Richie says in one of his bad accents, Stan can't even identify this one anymore, "he seems mad as all hay-all," Richie adds, sighing and plopping on the couch, staring the baby in the car seat in the eye.
"Yeah," Stan says softly. _God I regret everything_ , the anxiety part of his brain nags, sitting himself on the couch next to Richie. "We're like that movie, three guys and a baby," Stan comments.
Richie lets out a weak chuckle, picking at a hangnail, at a loss for words for once in his life.
Bill comes back nearly an hour later, obviously not needing all that time for the task, but maybe needing it to clear his head.
He lets himself in, a bag in his hand, the plastic handles twisted and a bit ripped, making it more obvious he'd been walking around for a while, likely messing with it. |
8d3593ab89604f2baba553122c4ad0ad | ['7edb7cdb87764de8b6d106430236e51e'] | It’s hiding again!
I crouch low and rear up, my hooves thudding against the thick pale stone.
I crane my neck again.
Perhaps it—
No!
Stop!
Pain!
Piercing pain!
Blessed silence fills my head.
Sharp pain refuses to dull.
Want to leave.
Too large.
Too cumbersome.
Hurts too much.
Feel heavy.
Sinking.
Cannot escape.
I—
13. Phalanx
_**Phalanx** _
There is something here.
Why?
Why is it here?
What does it want?
Sand falls like water.
Hot and arid.
Aim for the vast clear blue above.
Wind.
Light.
So bright.
Blinding.
Hurts.
Pain.
Punctured.
Heavy.
The ground.
So close.
Too close.
Cuts through sand.
Why?
Why here?
It’s—
Hurts!
Unbearable!
Crying!
Dive below.
Burst above.
Persists.
Chases.
Again and again.
No end.
Excruciating.
I want it to stop!
Why?
I don’t want to die.
I don’t want to die.
I don’t want to die.
I don’t want to—
14. Cenobia
_**Cenobia** _
My vision blurs.
I smell something!
Destroy!
Must destroy it!
Invaders!
Stone trembles!
Charge!
Crush!
Smash!
Blinded!
Howling!
Kill!
Shatter stone!
Knock it down!
Break it!
My home!
Mine!
Leave!
Tiny creature!
Chase!
Smash!
Break!
There!
Above!
Fall!
…trickery!
It tricks me!
To destroy my home!
I will knock it down!
I will destroy—!
No!
Crumbling stone!
Fallen!
Broken!
Exposed!
Thrash!
Pain!
Smash!
Breaking!
Vision fades.
Pain dulls.
Sleep takes.
There—
15. Argus
**_Argus_ **
There are echoes in my silent city.
Something has come, but for what purpose, I cannot say.
I pull myself up, and I see it.
It is so… tiny.
It is either very brave, or very stupid.
…not the former, then, as it’s fleeing as fast as it can.
My cleaver is light as I swing.
It stumbles, but remains undamaged.
Flee, tiny thing!
You cannot outrun me.
I raise a hoof, and let it fall.
Stone is dislodged, and the tiny thing climbs higher.
It’s almost amusing to watch.
It flickers between pillars.
My grip tightens.
Stone crashes down.
And higher still it climbs.
A small splinter sticks in my shoulder.
Its persistence could be considered almost admirable.
Almost.
Another splinter.
Higher.
High above.
I smell weakness!
The footbridge shatters under my strength, and the tiny thing flees to one side.
My eyes follow it.
What—
It’s leapt!
Madness has taken it!
The ground trembles.
Searing!
Burning pain!
My vision goes black.
I thrash.
And still it holds.
It’s—
It’s disarmed me!
Cowardly creature!
It is not satisfied with my temporary sightlessness!
Now it must disgrace me!
The blackness is nearly gone.
And I see it.
It’s returned to the ground.
It screams like a madman as it charges.
_Vile, unclean monster!_
_You—_
16. Malus
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> I was the last.
>
> We have failed.
**_Malus_ **
I am awake.
I should not be awake.
Something has awoken me.
Something inferior.
I see it.
My hand outstretches.
Power erupts.
Stone shatters and dust flies.
And it is gone.
Not dead… yet.
Gone for now.
Hiding.
I hear it.
Another blast.
Passageways collapse.
I sense it.
Cowering.
Hiding in shadows.
My fingers flex.
Stone explodes.
A twitch.
Crumbling.
I cannot see it.
_I feel it._
Sharp to my back.
I reach.
It clings to my hand.
A single flick, and I could be rid of it.
But it would endure.
It would scale me again to—
Steel.
I reach to crush.
And it clings to the fur.
It stands defiantly atop my hand.
Such a creature to be able to—
A splinter to my shoulder.
I realize my error too late.
The sound of scuffing.
Rustling.
A spike.
Excruciating.
I feel—
Horror.
Horror is what I feel.
My last moment, and I am horrified.
_I was the last._
_We have failed._
17. Dormin
_**Dormin** _
We are free!
After countless, nearly powerless millennia, We are free again!
But We are hindered greatly!
The tiny beings flee from Us.
Our fist comes down, crushing one beneath it.
Pinpricks cannot hurt Us, tiny things!
Our fist comes down again, the stone cracking.
Your lives are lost to Us!
Our prison will crumble!
We will return!
They stumble over their ceremonial wear.
We almost laugh at the sight.
They were not prepared for Us to be freed!
…but now We see that they have the Ancient Sword!
We drag ourselves after them.
We are strangely slow compared to them.
But We will catch them!
They will not escape!
We snatch one, and smash it into the stone.
Our claws scrape against the floor of Our prison.
How dare they?!
How dare they inflict this upon Us?!
We will crush them for their insolence!
We will tear them apart!
They escape up the winding stair.
We cannot catch them.
We cannot stop them.
A distant word of power.
A bright light fills Our vision.
Winds!
The winds pull at Us!
They mean to seal Us again!
No!
We feel weaker!
We _are_ weaker!
Smaller!
Our essence is leaving, being pulled into the pool!
Our remaining strength will flood your fingers, warrior!
Hold to the stone as if your life depended upon it!
We will not be sealed so easily!
And yet…
Why do you force Us out?
Why does your strength wane?
Why do you let go?
You have doomed Us, warrior!
But you have fulfilled your end!
And with our last breadth of power, We shall fulfill Ours!
18. Mono
_**Mono** _
What has happened?
Where am I?
It’s so bright here.
What is this place?
It’s not familiar.
I can’t remember.
There’s a void as vast as the sky inside my head.
Why can’t I remember?
I inhale deeply, and push myself up.
My arms tremble.
I feel so weak.
…a temple?
Rubble litters the floor, but what else could it be?
…was I on an altar?
Why?
For what reason?
So many questions!
My bare feet touch the stone.
It feels cold.
So cold!
What happened here?
Broken stone and dust!
A noise!
Slow and ponderous.
A horse. | 691cb8d97d994286b8c6a1c2f431cd35 | ['7edb7cdb87764de8b6d106430236e51e'] | I fling my head back, but it holds fast.
Another.
I feel its grip loosen as it falls. It is no longer latched on—
Another stabbing pain, this time in my stomach.
_I WILL—_
_I WILL CRUSH THIS THING!_
_IT WILL NOT LIVE TO SEE ME FALL!_
4. Phaedra
**_Phaedra_ **
I rest peacefully in my meadow.
I say it is mine, but truly, it is ours.
I breathe deeply as tiny birds flutter around my ears, singing their songs. I wish I could join them, especially as they almost dance across our meadow, but I dare not for fear of hurting them.
A small one perches upon my snout, and I have to nearly cross my eyes to see it. It intentionally or not tickles my nose, and I have to keep myself from sneezing.
I wish I was not so big.
I wish I could run after them, and not shake the earth beneath me.
I wish I―
I see something.
Something small.
Not as small as the birds, not nearly so.
It… it is mounted upon something that looks like me!
I raise myself to my full height, and I am both joyed and saddened.
I wish I did not tower above them as I do.
But there is another like me! Much smaller, but vague resemblance is enough―
I… the smaller creature upon its back has let loose something, and it is a pinprick in my hide.
My heart sinks.
It is not a friend.
There is an unpleasant squeeze in my throat, and I aim a blow near the creatures. I wish not to harm the one like me, but I must defend myself.
The smaller creatures leaps from the back of the one like me, and turns to flee into a small cave. It disappears within it, and I cannot see far into the dark that resides there.
The one like me makes a sound like a cry, and runs in fright.
I wish I was not so big.
My frustration boils over, and I stomp on the roof of the cave.
I cannot hear anything within. Perhaps it fled.
But to leave its companion?
I stomp again. And again. And again.
I hear nothing.
My knees bend, almost of their own accord, and I peek inside. My eyes strain against the dark as I search for it, but to no avail. Where is it? Where did it go? Where―
Something is not right.
I feel something clinging to my short tail.
And climbing higher.
It runs across my back, and I feel a stabbing pain in my neck. I lower my head, the pain near unbearable. I would have never thought that something as small as this creature would cause such a pain!
I can feel it run the length of my neck to my head.
The stabbing pain returns, but much worse, and this time, in my head.
I scream and shake wildly, forcing it to either hold fast, or fall.
It chooses the former.
I feel another.
And another.
And another.
I hardly have the strength now to save myself.
I feel my legs shake beneath my own weight.
I feel so heavy.
Perhaps this is a dream.
I will wake up soon.
I know I―
5. Avion
**_Avion_ **
I grow tired of my captivity.
Not that I haven’t tired of it before now.
It’s just that today, I find it particularly tiring.
The lake is still.
The wind moves not.
I pierce the air with a loud crow.
It echoes across the glassy surface of the lake before being swallowed entirely by the ringing silence of my prison.
I crow again.
It lasts not nearly as long as the first; perhaps my heart was not in it.
Not that it would truly make a difference.
I straighten.
I… I hear something.
A faraway splash.
The surface of the water is disturbed by ripples my eyes almost cannot see.
I rise from my perch, and with a mighty beat of my wings I can airborne. I narrow my eyes to search for the disturbance, and a trail is left behind a slow swimmer’s progress. A tiny creature, smaller than even the temple guardian I had seen once so very long again, it making its way across the vast lake. It shakily pulls itself up upon a small stone platform, and even from here, I can see that it is sopping wet. Why is it—
It is looking at me.
It is pointing something at me.
I do not like it.
A splinter ricochets from a poorly aimed shot, and is send spinning wildly off course.
With another beat of my wings, I rise into the air, and swoop down upon it.
If it is here to end me, then I must end it first. There is no other choice.
I misjudge the creature’s position on the small surface, but what it does at the very last moment surprises me: it runs towards me and leaps, clinging hard to the vegetation entwined with stone. I fly as I’ve never flown before, shooting upwards, hoping the winds are too harsh for it.
Instead, I feel it climb behind my head. I feel no more splinters, poorly aimed or otherwise, but the thought does not comfort me.
I swerve sharply, and I feel the creature nearly lose its grip.
But it holds ever tighter.
I level out, the beating of my wings surely throwing it off its balance—
I feel it running down my plumage.
Does it—
I feel it grab a fistful of the vegetation, and the sting of a knife not long after. It stings twice more, and a mangled trill rips at my throat.
I twist and turn every which way.
This creature cannot—
I feel it running up my spine. I try to beat my wings to throw it off, but I am not fast enough.
It stings again, and my muscles stiffen almost entirely. |
651e3d1af45b4faa831d17449ab2d502 | ['7efe79bdb8774ad281e013a2a49d5ed9'] |
see you in a minute
The grief of losing Natasha comes over him slowly, in bits and pieces.
It’s been a scant few hours since Clint had broken the news, but Steve swears it feels like days, no, _years_ , already. The knowledge of what’s happened suffocates him like a thick, dark fog. Sits on his chest like a dead weight.
It’s like his mind can’t process just what’s happened. Like it doesn’t _want_ to.
Natasha and _death_ just seem so incongruous, in his head.
Missing? Sure. Undercover? Well, _always_ . Natasha knew how to disappear and reappear at whim like no one’s business. But she’s always been a resourceful one. Smarter and quicker and _faster_ than all of them.
Catching her was like trying to catch falling water in a sieve. An exercise in futility, for all parties involved.
So he closes his eyes, and tries _desperately_ to convince himself that what he’s just heard is not real.
* * *
Steve doesn’t know how long he sits there in a haze. How many hours pass, before he finally drags himself through the compound, past the living room, past the kitchen.
And then he sees it.
A plate, left on the kitchen counter. On it is a half-eaten peanut butter sandwich, cut into two neat, diagonal pieces.
It had been her breakfast from that morning, before they’d entered the Quantum Realm. She’d been smiling, teasing, laughing -- the _happiest_ he’d seen her in so damn long.
(Steve knew she’d been putting up a brave front. As she always did.)
It’s so innocuous, really, but staring down at the dish Steve suddenly finds that the room around him is spinning. That he can’t help the loud sob that wracks his body, coming from somewhere deep and sharp and painful in his chest.
There’s something about staring down at the sandwich, realizing that this last vestige of her presence is there but _she_ isn’t, that finally breaks him. Opens up the floodgate of emotion, one that he’s been battling all day.
_That’s_ what it takes. For him to realize that she’s not just absent or missing.
She was his best friend, once. And now she’s simply _gone_.
* * *
Clint tells him more details when he’s ready. Everything that had happened at Vormir.
How Nat had fought him. Her life, in exchange for the stone. The ultimate sacrifice.
Her last words to him, soft and reassured -- _it’s okay_.
She’d always been so careful with their hearts. Right up to the very end.
* * *
Time beats forward, relentless and merciless as always.
They’re hardly given time to grieve her before they’re called back to the mission at hand. Because time waits for no one. Not the good _or_ the wicked.
Nat’s the one who’s given them a shot at this, he reminds himself. _Any_ of this.
So he carries on. With the mission. _Her_ mission.
_Whatever it takes_ , he reminds himself. **_Whatever it takes._ **
And in his heart of hearts, Steve hopes she will be able forgive them for these small transgressions.
* * *
In the end, they manage to hold a real, proper funeral for her. It’s a small, private affair, held a few days after Tony’s.
Steve gathers a few of her belongings for the ceremony, the ones that haven’t been claimed by someone else. Clint keeps her arrow necklace. Wanda, a tan leather jacket. Bruce, a tiny bit of her perfume.
In the end, the event is attended by a handful of people she’d loved, whether they’d claimed a piece of her earthly possessions for themselves or not. Thor. Rhodey. Sam. Even Okoye, who she’d grown so close to during the five years that had passed.
Nick Fury is in attendance, too. He manages a few words about Natasha, her life and her legacy, before he breaks down and his stern, somber face dissolves into tears.
She’d practically been like a daughter to him, Steve remembers. And she’d loved him like he was her own father, too.
Hell, she’d grieved for him once. It seems like a lifetime ago, now.
For him to be doing the same for her, now, under these circumstances, is simply too much to process. Steve closes his eyes and tries to remember how to breathe.
“Don't let her be forgotten,” are the last words Nick manages to get out before stepping off the podium. “ _Don’t let her be forgotten_.”
* * *
Steve is the last one to speak. He doesn’t know how he came to be worthy of that honor. Frankly, he doesn’t know if he’s the right choice. But he can’t find it in himself to protest.
She’d meant _everything_ to him. He can’t be damned what anyone thinks, anymore.
His speech is ready. He sketches out her life, the journey she took. How their paths had come to intersect, and then stayed that way.
Steve’s got an ending, already prepared. A clean way, to wrap it all up. But looking out to this tiny of crowd of her friends, no, her _family_ , he finds that unscripted words fall out of his mouth, instead.
“Natasha -- Natasha didn’t have any known family members we could call today. Whenever we asked, she always said we were her family. But she was _ours_ , too.”
A stillness passes over all of them. Steve pauses a moment, trying not to let the emotion overwhelm him. When he finds that he’s steady again, he continues.
“She told me once, that even after all this time -- she was _still_ trying to be better.” Because she was relentless, like that. Stubborn and hard-headed, just like him.
“I hope, wherever she is, that she _knows_ \-- she was the best of all of us, in the end.”
She was. No question about it.
“But mostly,” he murmurs, “I hope she knows that she was loved. She was so, **_so_ ** loved.” | 4c7e8c42013d4641964da3a911f5297c | ['7efe79bdb8774ad281e013a2a49d5ed9'] |
dance lessons
Becoming royalty was definitely a stark change in pace for Ella. No doubt she had the inner grace and courage to become a wise and gentle ruler, a fitting and worthy companion to the King. But becoming the King’s future bride-to-be had meant taking up loads of new classes on etiquette, history, and the like.
And part of being royalty, invariably, meant learning how to dance. No doubt both Kit and Ella could dance at least passably well when it came to social events, as evidenced by the ball at which they met. But now that Kit was king and Ella was to become his queen, it was expected that the two of them invest a bit more time, in, well… _polishing_ their moves.
And so, the two of them had been attending dancing lessons together twice a week. Unsurprisingly, Ella found that of all the classes she was taking it was _these_ lessons that had quickly become the highlight of her week. In what had become a hustle and bustle of never-ending royal affairs and duties, the dance lessons meant more time to spend with Kit, even if it was in the presence of an instructor.
Kit , for his part, made it a point to make the best of their time together. He would purposefully misstep and improvise moves that had absolutely no place in a proper waltz to make her laugh, and he made it a point to twirl her or dip her when he was not supposed to several times per class. In short, the two of them spent so much time giggling and flirting and laughing that they generally made very little progress in the way of becoming better dancers.Their instructor, for better or for worse, tolerated their antics with the patience of a saint.
So here they were today, waiting outside the ballroom where they practiced, when a servant approached them.
“Your highness, my lady – a thousand apologies.” he addressed them. “The dance instructor is sick and will not be coming for your lesson today.”
A dark look crosses the King’s face – he didn’t want to miss their lesson, given the already very little time they got to spend together, and neither did she. But this could still work out. Ella decides to speak up.
“That’s quite all right. Let the poor man feel better.” she tells the servant brightly.
She turns before she meets Kit’s eyes. “Why, we can simply dance here, on our own, for one session. I’m certain he wouldn’t mind.” She turns to Kit, who has noticeably brightened, and gives him a teasing grin.
“So long as his Highness is willing to put aside his tricky ways, exercise some self-control and actually _practice_ for once, that is.”
Kit meets her eyes mischievously.
“Of _course_!” he tells her. “What I wouldn’t do to carry out my royal duties, Lady Ella.”
“Well then, I suppose that’s all right. I’ll be off then… give you two your… uh, _privacy_.” the servant mutters awkwardly. He bows respectfully and leaves.
They watch him go before they turn back to each other, eyes already alight with mischief. Together , they push open the heavy wooden doors and enter into the empty ballroom. They make their way to the center of the large, ornate floor before they turn to face each other. She curtsies, he bows.
“Mister Kit.” she says respectfully, a formal smile still twitching into a small, cheeky grin at the curve of her lips.
“ _Ella._ ” he counters with the same easy banter. He cocks an eyebrow and holds out a hand. “Shall we?”
She grins fully at him now. “Why yes. We _shall_.”
He takes her hand and leads her into the waltz they’d been practicing. His ruse of actually taking the dance seriously, however, lasts for all of four seconds, and before she even knows it he’s leading her into an utterly ridiculous dance that makes her laugh until her sides hurt.
“No no no, Kit” she finally manages to gasp out, failing miserably to keep her giggles at bay. He laughs along with her and stops dancing at last.
Ella tries to stop grinning and center herself again. This is important.
“Kit, let’s be serious.” she tells him firmly. “We have a ball next _week_. We need to be ready!”
“All right all right!” he says, laughing. “I’ll be serious.”
She gives him a look.
“Promise?” she asks.
He grins at her as sincerely as he can, a sparkle of mischief still in his eyes.
“I _promise_ , love.”
They fix themselves again. Kit puts his hand on her waist and gives her a little nod to tell her he’s ready to go.
And so they begin.
He leads, she follows, and slowly, smoothly, they fall into the familiar, comforting rhythm of the waltz. She thinks of the steps as they dance together: one-two-three, one-two-three, _glide_ , soft step, _sway_ , and back to one-two-three, one-two-three .
Ella smiles as she goes through the moves, reminded oh-so-well of how much the steps bring back memories of the night she’d completely fallen in love with Kit and their first magical, _wonderful_ dance.
The Kit who swept off of her feet under the glittering lights of the ballroom then is the same Kit dancing in front of her now. And to think that she will have a thousand more magical dances with him! – the realization makes her heart flutter to no end.
Kit’s gaze has settled on her now, and the previous teasing in his eyes has been replaced by a look of awe. She can only meet his piercing gaze for a few moments before she blushes under its intensity and looks down, overwhelmed by the love she sees reflected in his eyes. She lets a shy smile play on her lips and grasps him a little tighter. |
8a2032aa51564f37ae8a689c0e3a1eb4 | ['7f00b9bb4320424894db7207a6d401f0'] | No, Harry does not want to see someone - shrink, psychologist, or otherwise. No, thank you.
What did he expect? Of course Jace doesn't think he's well, and Jace can see he's troubled about things that aren't normal to be troubled about. Things that don't quite add up to anyone who isn't a first-hand witness and therefore couldn't plausibly be completely true.
So no, Harry tries not to take any offense to Jace being a _friend-who-is-concerned._ But that doesn't change the fact that Harry's just fine.
He is fine.
He is.
10. Chapter 10
Harry Styles wishes he were fine. But that's not the case.
His brain is a broken record, replaying the sequence of last Tuesday over and over. It makes sense because last Tuesday was the last time Harry had felt fine; he's a human, after all, and humans mourn lost feelings like this sometimes. That's not unusual, though all other aspects of his life are.
In the morning, Harry had risen and followed roughly the same routine he did every early work day. Shower, dress, eat. Check for phone, leave the flat, hop in the building's rickety elevator. Make small talk with whoever he ran into in there, leave the building, walk.
It shouldn't have been a memorable day. It was just _Tuesday_.
A customer bought a loaf of sourdough and a whole box of cookies. Harry smiled at the latter purchase, _They're quite good, huh?_
The woman nodded and chuckled. _Yep, they are. No party of mine would be complete without them._ Harry's chest warmed; he'd definitely be telling Bertha about that claim. The old woman would surely smile and it'd reaffirm her reasons for owning this type of business.
The woman was very easy on the eyes: long, wavy hair similar in color to Harry's, almond-shaped eyes also similar in color to Harry's. And her nose...was sculpted like Harry's too, a flattish bridge and wide nostrils, except smaller and more feminine. _But...how?_
Harry blinked hard and gulped. He felt dizzy, and the woman - who couldn't have been his older sister, Gemma Styles - asked him, in an American accent, if he was okay. It was hard to said yes.
And then there was nothing. Nothing but the hardness of the countertop Harry had fallen asleep on and his vision being engulfed by comfortable blackness. Eventually, the countertop melded into him; he felt nothing and saw nothing. It was alright.
That is, until a voice roused his consciousness. It was Gemma, ringing out shrill and desperate. _Harry, fuck! Harry, Hazza, no! No G-god, please, she begged. Don't! Please d-don't!_ Her face came to him somehow, too - a manifested image of grief and pain that there was no time to decipher. _If you can hear me -_
Harry awoke in a sweat, and it was anything but cold. He breathed in smoke, which caused him to cough and fling open his eyes - where was he, again?
Everything had been illuminated in orange-red, if it wasn't already reduced to orange-red flames or charred-black whatever it had once been. Harry's body felt so much: lungs pinched from filling with fumes, eyes overwhelmed and watering, skin tightening in response to the heat - but his body did nothing.
Eventually, however, his feet came to a realization and instructed him to move.
Coughing until he grew dizzy, he sat on the sidewalk in his stupor, watching Bertha's bakery slowly smolder away across the street. Like the homeless men he sometimes spared change to, Harry was unemployed and all the worse for wear.
Apparently San Fransisco didn't have a fire department. If it did, surely all the brave, helmet-wearing people would have swarmed that bakery, stopped it from being baked (Harry swears it's accurate) right down into its own foundation, with the impossibly long hose snaking about and all that heroic stuff. But no. No water was wasted. Not for Bertha. Not for bread. Not on Tuesday.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> i think there's only going to be 3 (or maybe even just 2) more parts to this
>
> this is so weird and boring and confusing I'm so sorry | 90eaaf2471344c43a825a959a00b069c | ['7f00b9bb4320424894db7207a6d401f0'] | Louis had literally jumped. "N-no one, Mum." He hadn't heard her coming in, and she had just heard him say to Harry that the sun looked like a full, yellowy egg yolk in the sky today.
"So you're talking to yourself, then?"
"Well...yeah."
Jay had forced a chuckle, ruffling her son's chestnut hair. "Silly boy, you are."
"Love you too, Mum," Louis retorted back, smiling gratefully for the fact that she was laughing it off. His mother walked away with a suspicion in her mind, but without another word.
Jay hit a point when she could no longer keep her thoughts to herself. She had heard her son talking to himself one too many times and she didn't want to think what she was thinking because it was sort of ridiculous - or maybe it wasn't.
The very next time she caught Louis talking to an empty room, Jay questioned Louis. "No, really, Louis. You're really talking to someone, aren't you?" she pushed after he'd claimed he was talking to himself again.
"No, I'm not," her son replied, furrowing his brow.
"So it's not," Jay's blue eyes flitted around the room, " _Harry_ that you're talking to?"
Louis' face had completely changed when he heard Harry's name. Now he fought to pretend like he hadn't recognized it. "Um..." he began to mumble, at a loss for words.
"She won't stop bothering you, I can tell," Harry told the twelve year old. He came close to Jay, gesturing to her face, "Don't you see the twinkle in her eyes? That's determination. Just admit it, Lou." He crossed his translucent, silvery arms, his feet floating at Louis' waist level. Louis shook his head profusely.
Jay shivered at a sudden chill that seemed to manifest out of nowhere. Harry's being was taking the heat from her immediate surroundings. The ghost boy zoomed over to sit atop Louis' dresser, looking like a blob of Vaseline streaming through the air. "Baby, please. It's okay, just say something," she pleaded, wrapping Louis in a hug.
"Dude, tell her," urged Harry. He crossed his arms in wait; colorless irises staring at the living boy expectantly as his ghostly feet bobbed to and fro over the dresser's edge.
"Mum," Louis finally spoke again, hesitantly mumbling against his mother's chest, "...you're right, it is Harry. He's right _there_." Jay watched him point to the space just above the dresser in the room. It looked perfectly normal to her. Just air.
"He's your friend, right?"
"Yeah. I like him. He remembers us from when we were here before," said Louis with a fond smile.
"What does he say to you?"
"Lots. We just talk...it's like how me and you are talking right now, it's normal. He's not _evil_ ," Louis said with a roll of his eyes. "Ghosts aren't all evil. He's cool."
"How old is he?"
"I dunno. Old," stated Louis with a shoulder shrug.
" _Old_?" Jay repeated. She was evidently creeped out.
"Thanks for making me sound like a proper creep, Lou," muttered Harry.
"Wait, how?" asked Louis.
"Ah - never mind. Anyways...I think I'm like 19 or 20. Yeah, sounds about right."
Louis relayed the information to Jay.
Jay went silent for a while, stringing her thoughts into sentences in her head. She sat down on the twin sized mattress and pondered. Louis was uncharacteristically quiet, gaze focused on the teeny tiny cracks, dents and nooks that made up the pattern of the wooden floor beneath his sock-clad toes. Certain boards were creaky and certain weren't so, and that was kind of interesting.
"I say this with a lot of love, bub; but I thought you would've outgrown your imaginary friend stage by now."
Harry moaned sadly. "Oh, not this again."
Louis groaned, heaving his shoulders. "Ugh, no! Don't you remember, Mum, I told you, Harry's a -"
"Ghost. Yeah, I know," Jay finished her son's sentence with a sigh, "I know. But ghosts aren't real, you know that." Her nimble fingers twisted a piece of golden brown hair behind her ear.
"He's real. Honestly, he is. Harry can prove it himself." Louis' face became smug.
Harry shook his head and threw his hands up. "Nu-uh. Not doin' it."
"Please?" begged the younger boy. "Just touch her or -"
"No," interjected Harry.
"Why not?"
"'Cause I shouldn't touch people, remember?"
"And why's that?" Louis countered.
Harry hesitated before answering, "Weird ghost reasons." He saw the thirteen year old go to open his mouth again, so he quickly added, "'m leaving it at that, Lou, sorry."
Louis murmured in frustration. "Well, Mum, Harry's being an _arse_ but -"
Jay gasped, surprised at her son's language. "Louis William Tomlinson! Do _not_ swear!"
"Harry's _fucking_ real, okay? I'm not making it up and I'm not crazy. You have to believe me!" Louis yelled, his pre-pubescent voice cracking. His eyes were pleading but his mother stared back at him with an unforgiving glare. "Please," he tried again, softly.
Jay shook her head, almost in pity. A few seconds passed in silence before she declared, "You're grounded."
"Fine," shrugged Louis. Seeing Harry was good enough for him.
Jay quickly detected the error of her punishment. "Actually, you know what? You are the _opposite_ of grounded." When Louis' face fell, she knew she'd said the right thing this time.
Sadly, being 'un-grounded' was the least awful thing Louis was subjected to by his mother.
Louis didn't know that his parents would take him to counseling almost as soon as they arrived back home from the lake.
He didn't know that he could be so misunderstood, and be made to feel like such a freak. He changed; he stopped talking as much and as loud. He became shy, shrewd - not that that was a bad thing, but it's not at all who he had been before. |
73da66ead10d4be9805eb2e9c458db86 | ['7f061fb3d3094a22b624fd8839b51e08'] | For actual clothes I got two pairs of jeans, one blue and the other black, both high-waisted because I not only found them more comfortable than low-rise jeans, but they were also more versatile. I could wear crop tops with them and not worry about showing my stomach.
I had to hold myself back from going overboard with the dresses and skirts. I limited myself to three of each, figuring there'd be the chance I'd go shopping again in the future. Though I did let myself get several tops so I could mix and match.
Shoes were easy enough. I found a pair of ankle boots that were super comfy and would probably become my everyday shoes. There were plenty of cute heels, so I chose a pair with a platform and block heel, because I needed the extra height and couldn't walk in stilettos.
I also got a pair of plain black canvas sneakers at Clint's insistence, because he believed the ankle boots weren't appropriate for daily use.
Silly bird.
When everything had been tried on, I grabbed a hairbrush and some ties, and then also some basic makeup (foundation, eyeliner, mascara, chapstick, and a single tube of red lipstick), before figuring we were done in Target.
It was just passed midday, and we all desperately needed lunch. Clint and I were complaining about hunger so much that I was sure Nat was tempted to just leave us there.
"If you don't tell me where you want to eat in the next thirty seconds, then you can go hungry," she threatened.
Clint rolled his eyes. "I don't think a certain pair of super soldiers would appreciate that."
"They'll get over it."
"Ugh, just take me somewhere I can have a coffee while I eat." I groaned out, needing another hit of caffeine to get me through the second half of the day.
We stashed my shopping bags back into the car, then decided to head to a nearby café for lunch. It was the type of place where you ordered before finding a seat, and I was a little grateful. I secretly hated the places where you paid after you ate.
With the prospect of a freshly cooked meal being made for him, Clint had considerably perked up. He was leaning into Natasha's side, whispering something that had her fighting to keep a smile off her face.
It was adorable, but I couldn't help but feel like a third wheel.
Natasha immediately noticed how uncomfortable I seemed, and nudged Clint's arm gently. He looked up at me sheepishly, clearing his throat.
"So, uh…" He muttered, seemingly trying hard to find something to say. His eyes lit up not a moment later. "When I asked you why you thought my relationship with Natasha was interesting, you said you'd tell us when it was private. Is this private enough for you?"
I looked around at the other customers in the café, chatting amongst themselves, or heavily engrossed in their phones, laptops, or books. Not like it mattered much to tell them here anyway. I just thought they'd rather not have their teammates hear.
"Yeah, this is as good a time as any," I shrugged, giving them a smile. "Well, so, the first movie you two appeared in together was The Avengers, like I mentioned. The movie didn't explicitly say you two were together, but it hinted at it enough for people to ship the shit out of you two."
Natasha quirked an eyebrow, her mouth twisting into just the tiniest hint of a smirk. "I'm sensing there's a 'but'."
"Yeah, there is." I nodded, before letting out a sigh. "I kind of don't even wanna tell you, because it involves another Avenger and also something that one of you can never have."
And it was true. Clint had been able to successfully start a family in the movieverse, but Natasha had been sterilized by the Red Room and was therefore unable to have children, not matter how much she wanted to.
I mean, sure, they could adopt. But it wasn't the same as having your own flesh and blood.
"Ah, come on, just spit it out." Clint whined, just as a waitress appeared with my coffee, Clint's milkshake, and Natasha's fruit smoothie.
Quickly hiding myself behind the large mug, I shook my head. "I don't wanna upset either of you. It's kinda personal and I'm starting to feel shitty that I know this from some movies and not from you guys telling me yourselves."
"Beth, it's okay, you're not going to offend us." Natasha reassured me, though her tone was the same as she always used and therefore not very reassuring.
"Oh, fucking hell, alright." I muttered, swallowing a mouthful of coffee to calm my nerves. "But don't say I didn't warn you.
"You, Natasha, in the second Avengers film, apparently had a thing for Bruce and the feeling was mutual, even if he was a little awkward about it. And you, Clint, had a secret family with two kids and another on the way."
I was not expecting their reactions, to say the least.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> If you're a thriller fan, then I highly recommend all of the books mentioned at the start of this chapter!
8. Revelations
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Am I sorry for leaving the last chapter on a cliffhanger? Not really ;) You might hate me for the end of this chapter, though. I hope you all enjoy it anyway!
Natasha raised both her eyebrows, her lips now fully curled into an amused grin, while Clint barked out laughter loud enough to earn a few side glances from the other patrons. I slumped back in my seat and sipped at my coffee, hating being laughed at while simultaneously being glad they weren't upset.
Clint wiped at his eyes, struggling to contain his laughter. Was it really that funny? | 733a2abb0dd34da0a2e33049c89d05b4 | ['7f061fb3d3094a22b624fd8839b51e08'] | "What…?" I trailed off, thoroughly confused. I knew he was taken. Even if I hadn't have already known all about Tony because of the movies, he'd also mentioned Pepper was his girlfriend a minute ago. What the weird tattoo had to do with that was beyond me.
Walking back over to Pepper, Tony picked her arm up and showed me her wrist.
"Tony!" Pepper shot him a glare and yanked her arm back, but not before I saw the exact same circle on her wrist.
"See? Taken."
"I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean, but okay."
Pepper was looking at me strangely, and was about to say something when she was interrupted, much like Tony had been by Clint.
"Is this the girl? She doesn't look like a threat." A deep voice stated, and within the next second, a blonde man with a handsome face was in my view. Thor's large form was bent over at the waist, observing me with interest much like Tony had. But, more importantly, with a friendly smile. "Who are you, strange mortal? And where are you from? I have not heard an accent like yours on Midgard before."
"Well, that's probably because you've never met an Australian before." I said, smiling happily up at the man, glad someone was being nice. I lifted a hand towards him despite my muscles screaming in protest. "Anyway, I'm Beth. Could you please help me up? I feel like I've been hit by a truck and nobody else seems like they want to help."
"Of course, Lady Beth." Thor grinned, then grabbed hold of my outstretched hand and pulled me so I was standing. But when he let go, my legs turned to jelly and I started to collapse with a yelp of surprise. Thor managed to catch me, and turned to stare at Tony in question.
"Just stick her on the couch," he muttered, pointing to one of the sleek leather lounges that sat in a loose square-formation around a couple of glass coffee tables.
The Asgardian nodded, then picked me up like a ragdoll and quickly plopped me down on the couch in a sitting position. I was grateful he did, because suddenly being able to see straight already had my headache receding into a dull ache that I could easily ignore.
"Thanks, and please just call me Beth." I said, sinking comfortably into the buttery leather. I let out a hum of appreciation. "This is much better than the floor."
I decided to take a few moments to look around. Close to wear I sat were sculptures in glass cases, and there some lamps scattered on side tables between the lounges. To my left was what looked like a lab behind a glass wall, straight ahead was a bar and elevator, and to my right were floor-to-ceiling windows that showed the most gorgeous city view.
But what really made this room stand out were the random stairs that lead to and from platforms of different heights. It was all open, so anybody on the higher platforms would be able to have a good view of whoever was in the living area below. Right now, that would be me.
Thor nodded, his smile still in place. "You're welcome, Beth." He turned to Tony, and I noticed that Pepper had left the room. "Tell us what happened."
I perked up, interested in what Tony had to say. I knew what had happened to me, obviously, but I had no idea how it looked to anyone else.
"There was a flash of light in the middle of the air, and she fell from it." He pointed to where I'd been laying just a minute ago. "Right on her face."
The assassin and archer listened quietly to what Tony said, as did Thor, who turned back to me. "Now, you tell us what happened. How did you get here?"
Opening my mouth to reply, I quickly shut it when I realized that not everyone was here, and I didn't want to repeat my story more than I had to. "I can wait for Bruce to find out later if he's not coming, but shouldn't we wait for Steve and Bucky?" I glanced down and looked at the metallic shield on my hoodie, and was hit by the sudden realization that I wasn't wearing a bra.
Yep, just socks, underpants, and my hoodie. And I was meeting the Avengers. Horrifying, really.
"Why do you talk about us like you know us?" Clint questioned. He sounded more curious than concerned, but Natasha was still silent beside him and that unnerved me.
"I guess I can tell you that too." I muttered. I wasn't entirely sure if I should tell them, but I'd already slipped up and they were bound to find out eventually. "But only when the others get here."
"We're here now." A voice announced. "Who are you?"
"Beth, also known as the 0-8-4 that just appeared in this room." I turned my head to the left to see two tall and incredibly well built men make their way over from some stairs: one blonde, one brunette, and both with striking blue eyes.
And when those two sets of gorgeous blue eyes met mine, something in me seemed to click into place, like I was a puzzle that had just been completed for the first time. And then there was a burning sensation on my right wrist, making my eyes snap away from their gorgeous faces.
"Ow, what the fuck!" I cried, clasping a hand over my burning wrist as if it would make the pain go away. I looked up to see everyone staring at me in shock, except for the two super soldiers, who were also looking down at their own wrists with an emotion I couldn't quite identify. |
f65862b52ae148289d0c50419ea661a8 | ['7f0be5f653e546f5b17164e7bdfce972'] | “Morning to you too.” You replied, sitting up and packing up your bedroll. “I think Arthur wants us to get a move on.” You pointed out the way he deliberately looked anywhere but at the two of you, checking and double-checking the reigns on his horse. The messenger had gotten up as well, looking no worse for wear than he had the day previous. With clumsy fingers, he untied his own horse while speaking quietly with Arthur. The worry lines in his forehead only deepened as he spoke.
Merlin nodded and got up as well, pausing to stretch his arms over his head before packing his things up as well. You couldn’t help but notice the way his shirt rode up over his hips when he stretched, exposing a few inches of his pale flesh. You flushed again and turned on your heel to force yourself to look away.
Light breezes ruffled the leaves in the trees above your heads, the whooshing sound immensely calming. Merlin packed his things up and untied his horse as well, leading her over to where you were standing, fumbling with the ties on your satchel. He untied your horse for you and handed you the reigns.
“Thanks.” You smiled. He helped you mount your horse again, and you couldn’t help but notice that his hands lingered upon your waist a second longer than necessary. You mindlessly tangled your fingers in your horse’s mane while you waited for Merlin and the messenger to get up atop their horses as well.
“We’ve only a little ways to go yet.” The messenger called, leading the way this time instead of Arthur. He traveled at much slower of a pace, and you could tell that the prince was getting anxious. By midday, you emerged from the forest and could see the telltale wisps of smoke of a town just over the hill. Traveling through farmland was much easier than through thick underbrush, so your company made good time as you approached the town. Before you’d even entered, you could practically smell the despair in the air. This was a town that had been desolated. This was a town in mourning.
—
The messenger led Arthur straight to speak with the healthy townspeople while he directed you and Merlin towards one of the houses on the edge of town, where their primary healer lived. You dismounted your horses and someone came to take them away to the stables. Merlin grabbed Gaius’s bag and pulled it over his shoulder. He knocked on the door to the house and it was immediately answered by an older man. In many ways, he looked similar to Gaius, save for his jet black hair, which he kept close cropped to his head.
“Are you Safir?” Merlin asked, and the man nodded. “Gaius sent us. We’re here to help.”
“Come on inside then, it’s not quite safe on the streets.” Safir croaked, showing you inside his single-roomed house. Also unlike Gaius, he kept his workspace clean and clear of clutter. Safir offered the both of you seats at his table while he deadbolted the door. You and Merlin sat next to each other, nervously glancing around your surroundings.
“We must work quickly.” Safir crooned in a hushed voice. “I will tell you what I know and we will work from there. A sickness has fallen over this town. It is causing everyone affected to fall into a deathlike sleep, the pallor of death painting their faces and cold limbs. We don’t know how to reverse it, but we must do it before it’s too late and the sufferers are all truly dead.” Safir frowned.
“The earliest symptoms are delirium, weakness, and dizziness. Usually that stage lasts for an hour or two before the death-sleep sets in. After twenty-four to thirty-six of that, the patients are usually dead. So far six have died, and seventeen more have just entered the death-sleep. We don’t know just how many are in the first stage of the disease. We don’t know the cause either. It seems to be choosing at random, selecting a member or two of each household.”
Merlin and you shared a glance. This was going to be much larger of an undertaking than you thought. Merlin glanced towards the door and leaned in towards Safir, clasping his hands on the table.
“Gaius suspects a magical origin.” He whispered. Safir nodded, pushing his chair away from the table to grab a thick book from a hidden alcove near the fireplace.
“As do I.” He said firmly, flipping the book open and leafing through it for a moment before he found the page he was looking for. “Here.” Safir turned it around and shoved it towards the two of you. The page on the left depicted a corpse, seemingly asleep, in a bed with worms nestling in its eyes. You wrinkled your nose and shifted your gaze to the opposite page. It read:
Mortevitum, or “The Life-Death,” is a deadly disease best known for its most prominent symptom of a death-like sleep. The disease occurs in stages, the first lasting twelve hours and the second lasting twenty four, ending, finally, in true death. Causes of this ailment include curses of a magical sort, spells, and unclean air. The only treatment known is an elixir consisting of the hair of a hero (a true servant of the greater good) and the pulp of the leaves of a mandrake. In order for this potion to have full effect, an incantation must be said over the ingredients at exactly noon or exactly midnight. The incantation reads as follows: “Gyda'r llwyddiannau gerirau bywyd dros fareolaeth. Leis na bhuanna focail beatha thar bás. Verbis triumphos vita mortem.” The resulting mixture must be applied over the doorway of the home of every infected person. One hour must be waited for it to take full effect. | 00c7b9c45ba44c3399fcc7cdab396271 | ['7f0be5f653e546f5b17164e7bdfce972'] | “He’s not coming with us, you know.” He said quietly. “He believes that we can do it on our own.” You noticed as Merlin spared a nervous glance towards Arthur, the strong but ever silent figure watching and waiting. He stood between Gaius and the messenger, but spoke very little.
“Merlin, everything is going to be fine. Gaius believes in you.” You assured him. “You’re a fantastic physician, and, sure, you’re still learning, but aren’t we all? We’re all learning new things, every second of every day. Besides, I’ll be right next to you every step of the way. Arthur will be too.”
Merlin snorted at that. “Yeah, he’s only there because it’s his duty. He doesn’t have a choice.” He repeated the words the prince had spat at him only a day earlier. You shook your head, exasperated, placing both hands on his shoulders. Your rose up on tiptoe a bit to meet his eye level and your eyes bored straight into his dewy blue ones.
“I’m serious. Merlin, he cares about you too. I know it.” You stated firmly, pulling him into a tight hug. “Now if you’d just be observant enough to see that…” You rolled your eyes, smiling.
“Help me up?” You asked, preparing to mount your horse. You were never quite tall enough to get up on your own, so Merlin usually helped out by giving you a boost. His hands spanned your waist and he helped lift you up as you swung your foot over.
“Thanks.” You took the reigns in your hand and stroked the mare’s glossy black mane.
“It’s time to go.” Arthur finally spoke up, mounting his horse and trying his best to look anywhere but at Merlin, who was already seated atop his horse. With a firm kick to his horse’s flank, he was off and the three of you were scrambling to catch up.
The sun was nearly setting before Arthur finally relented and slowed down. After almost an entire day of hard riding through the forest, you were tired and ridiculously sore. You could tell that Merlin and the messenger were the same, and no doubt Arthur as well, though he didn’t show it. He tied his horse to a tree, grumbling about how you could have made better time. You slid off your horse and affectionately patted her muzzle before tying her to a nearby tree. Merlin came behind you and did the same with both his and the messenger’s horse. After, he came around with a bit of feed for the horses. You’d crossed a river recently, and stopped to let them drink their fill beforehand. The horses should be content for a while yet.
“We camp for the night and continue on our way on the morrow.” Arthur declared, setting his bedroll out. He collapsed atop it and turned his back to the group. You and Merlin shared a look and you shrugged, setting out your bedroll as well.
“Shouldn’t we build a fire?” You asked Merlin, unwillingly noticing how, as the sun went down, the air grew colder. Your feet crunched on the dead leaves that carpeted the shady forest as you lay down.
“It will attract too much attention.” Came the gruff answer from the prince. Merlin unrolled his bedroll next to yours and sat, rolling his eyes at Arthur’s childishness. At least he could act like a grown man. Of course, Merlin would be lying if he said he hadn’t felt a pang of hurt in his gut with Arthur’s aloof and cold behavior. They’d been friends… Hadn’t they?
You noticed the sad look in Merlin’s eyes and you wrapped your arm around his shoulder to give him a side-hug. To your dismay, you’d forgotten your cloak to use as a blanket, so you shivered a little as you set your head on your satchel, which you were using as a pillow.
“It’s cold.” You murmured, closing your eyes. Before you knew it, you felt Merlin scoot closer to drape his cloak over the both of you. You smiled when he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you to his chest.
“Better?” He asked.
“Much. G'night, Merlin.” You replied, settling in closer and enjoying the heat from his body. Your skin tingled under his touch and gave the illusion that your body was on fire, albeit more pleasant. Little did you know, you had much of the same affect on Merlin, who fell asleep with a smile on his face.
—
The next morning you were awoken before the first rays of light peeked through the thick foliage above your heads. You heard a steady thumping and could only wonder what it was. Oh. You cracked your eyes open to see that your head was on Merlin’s chest, your arm thrown across his midsection and his arms resting on the small of your back. You blushed but did not move away.
Looking around, you saw that Arthur was already on his feet, going about to prepare the horses for another day of riding. He didn’t seem to care how much noise he was making, the creases under his eyes telling that he hadn’t slept well. He fed and watered the horses before packing up his own bedroll. Arthur could, in fact, get along just fine independently, doing his own work. You shifted your head to look up at Merlin, only to find that he was gazing intently at you.
“Morning, Y/N.” He smiled, brushing a tendril of hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. You felt a blush creep up the side of your neck and you returned his smile, sitting up. |
e2a37beb8c7a4cbeac551d7be3c22cba | ['7f0e59b5328b4ef884cc6bd351d95b23'] | Natsu was sleeping, curled up with Happy in the corner that Gray had jokingly called the “cat corner”. But, in the end, both mages had made sure to make said corner a comfortable space. And Natsu had taken to nap in there. In those moments – and when Gray sneaked a peek – Natsu was like a cat that slept stretched on a strip of sunlight.
Gray sat down beside Natsu. The fire mage woke up briefly, saw him and extended his hand before he settled his head back down onto a pillow.
Gray held his hand and squeezed. Then he lay down beside Natsu, and fell asleep.
This was how they were until sunset, napping and enjoying another sunny afternoon together.
They knew that there were plenty more for them to enjoy, still.
**Author's Note:**
> Happy anniversary of writing, my dear mdelpin!
As you know, I'm very happy about still having you around and writing (your bunnies will increase again, mark my words!) and so of course that I had to write you something.
I hope you enjoyed this little piece (that smidge of angst came from nowhere, I guess it was your influence xD) even if a little belated. I told you that I would use that thing we talked about. ;)
This story is unbetaed.
Thanks for reading! :D | c59d310171354bbaafdc021543a7039b | ['7f0e59b5328b4ef884cc6bd351d95b23'] |
Forest Sanctum
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
The chirping of birds seemed to fill the world at first. Then, wind started blowing which made the leaves rustle.
Surrounding them, there was vegetation and trees. Golden sunbeams filtered through the high tree branches, light piercing the greenery.
Gray let out a huff as he looked around. His frown deepened.
“Great. Just great…” he turned to Natsu, to glare at him. “If it weren’t for that stupid nose of yours, we wouldn’t have gotten lost.” The cheery chirping coming from above had Gray scowling and looking up at the trees.
“It’s not my fault.” Natsu defended himself. “No-one told you to follow me either. But that scent…” Natsu turned his back to Gray and started sniffing the air again, like a dog. “I could have sworn…”
Gray’s teeth started to grind together in annoyance. His patience to the fire mage’s dumb antics had been running extremely low before their current mission started and now, Gray was nearly losing it.
“Oh!” Natsu exclaimed suddenly, excitement colouring his voice. “Got it. This way!” And he started running like the mad person Gray knew him to be.
“Wait up!” Gray yelled before starting to run in pursuit of the other mage.
Unfortunately, Natsu didn’t wait and the vegetation started to thicken so much so that Gray lost sight of the fire mage and couldn’t tell the direction he’d taken. He paused and looked around, his breath coming heavily after the mad dash. Alas, everything looked the same. Large trees with their impressive trunks, by the roots there were smaller bushes that were sprinkled with colourful flowers. And between the trees, the tall vegetation, which went from taller fluffy bushes, also sprinkled with flowers – though these were in more muted colours – to spiky and thorny shrubs, sometimes interlaced with vines that also clung to the trees.
Yet, there wasn’t a sign that Natsu had gone through this place.
Gray ran a hand through his hair in annoyance, pushing back the sweaty bangs that were clinging to his forehead. He bit his lower lip and closed his eyes, frowning in concentration. Trying to find Natsu’s location.
His eyes opened suddenly, as a sound that didn’t seem to be part of the environment reached him. He started walking in the direction from which it came, hoping that it had been Natsu.
He used his hands to make a path, grumbling under his breath when the thorns scratched at his arms and chest. Gray paused his motion for half a beat to wonder at when his shirt had slipped away but a branch came out of nowhere and slapped against his thigh, earning a shocked gasp from him. Fortunately, the thorny branches gave way to another set of smooth green leaves that brushed softly against his skin so a relieved sigh escaped the ice mage’s lips.
Gray noticed that he was near to what seemed to be a clearing. The softer bushes were getting sparser and light made everything look golden and ethereal.
He kept walking towards it, noticing that the clearing was cut by a shallow river that ended in a pond that filled half of the clearing’s ground. He stopped to look around, listening to the happy chirping that seemed to intensify and then his wrist was encircled in a too-warm grasp and Gray was pulled down. In the blink of an eye Gray was lying on the ground. He looked down at his wrist, still momentarily dazed and the golden tone of the skin in the hand… he _knew_ it.
Gray caught himself and looked up at Natsu. The ice mage opened his mouth, ready to ask what the hell was wrong with the other but a hand pressed firmly against his lips.
It was a bit too hot for comfort…
“Shhh. It’s almost time.” Natsu murmured against Gray’s ear, finally letting go of the ice mage.
Gray threw an incredulous ‘ _What are you talking about?’_ look at Natsu but the serious expression, which was underlined by something else, told him to wait.
Natsu laid down on his stomach and crawled amid the vegetation, so that he was still mostly hidden but, Gray noticed as he followed his lead, allowed for a good view of the pond.
Gray couldn’t tell how much time had passed with them, looking at the clearing. Now he could take a closer look at things.
As he’d previously noticed, half of the clearing’s ground was occupied by the pond and the other part was also crossed by the river but the grassy ground wasn’t the only thing that existed. To the edge of the clearing that was more to their right, there seemed to be a wooden construction. No, it wasn’t a construction. It didn’t seem to be man-made, but it didn’t seem to be natural either.
It was an arch. Made of wood, crowned with vines, bushes and flowers. The vines went down the sides, towards the ground, hidden amongst the twisted wooden branches that also curled over the arch.
_It’s a door_. Gray realized suddenly.
But… a door to what?
At the bottom of the arch there was no grass. No, the arch was slightly elevated on a mound of earth, but with what seemed like small slabs of stone, shaped like one of the pebbles that were immersed in the river, in pristine white made what seemed to be the entryway.
An elbow made light contact with his side and Gray looked at Natsu, inquisitively. The only answer he got was Natsu pointing towards the arch.
The birds had stopped chirping and the wind stopped blowing.
There was a deafening silence pressing against them. Even the air seemed to have thickened.
And then, it got easier to breathe, the forest noises returned. But there was something different now.
Small bells, with limpid and crystalline sound seemed to echo on the clearing. |
d80d35171d814fe1b51966f081576d39 | ['7f166d13aea64ee6b83d42532082582e'] | Mikasa did not judge him nor dismiss his goals. She simply listened. Sometimes Armin couldn’t even get Eren to listen, he got so riled up and angry that he’d often leave in a huff, needing to blow off steam. But not Mikasa, she didn’t call him crazy or a heretic, she just listened.
Then inevitably came the day when Armin’s big mouth got him in trouble again. A group of bullies had him pinned against the wall and were taking turns throwing rocks at his head. He had shrunk down to the ground, arms thrown up to block his face when he had heard the sound of screams and scampering feet. Armin looked up to see Mikasa, shy and soft-spoken Mikasa, kick a bully squarely in the face, breaking his nose and causing him to shriek uncontrollably. The others got the hint and the group of them quickly dispersed and exited the alleyway.
Armin saw something in Mikasa that day, a hardness in her deep gray eyes. She knew what helplessness was. And just like that the darkness Armin had seen in Mikasa’s eyes vanished as she leaned down towards him, her arm outstretched, and that soft smile barely poking out behind her scarf. Armin took her hand and with strength he had not realized had always been there Mikasa pulled him up. In that moment Armin thought he was finally beginning to understand her. His heart had quickened when their hands connected.
But that was in the past. Armin had then soon realized that there was something _more_ in the way Mikasa looked at Eren. It was difficult to describe. Not a crush but not sisterly affection either. When Mikasa looked at Eren it was like the world stopped with him, like nothing else even mattered. _Including me_ , Armin had thought miserably at the tender age of ten. He had gotten over it though, just grateful to have such supportive friends in the first place, casting his own crush aside.
Yet now, with her face mere inches from his, taking up his entire field of view, Armin wondered incredulously how he could possibly forget Mikasa’s beauty. Staring into those sad gray eyes was taking his breath away.
“I-” Armin started as he once again began to struggle against Mikasa’s hold. She looked down at him confused but did not budge. “I do not yield,” Armin stated stubbornly, trying to break free.
A thought crossed his mind that Armin nearly rejected immediately. It was far too extreme of a measure and one that was sure to get him killed. Armin cursed his brain for even thinking such a thing. And yet…
If he was so determined not to yield and give way for this whole cycle again then Armin would be forced to use measures outside the box. He couldn’t rely on his strength to get him out of this position so he’d have to be tricky. It really was the only way.
A crowd of recruits was beginning to circle around them. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who noticed how long they’d been in this lock. Armin grimaced internally, he really didn’t want an audience for his next attempt at escape but sometimes life just didn’t go his way.
“Oi, Armin what do you think you’re trying to pull?” asked Reiner boisterously over the hum of gossip emitting from the recruits.
“This is _Mikasa_ we're talking about. Just yield already.” Jean yelled from the other side of the circle.
“Come on, Jean. Armin’s smart. If he’s not yielding he’s got a reason,” Marco shot back.
“Smart’s got nothing to do with it. He’s pinned. It’s over,” Connie sighed.
“‘Course you’d say that,” Ymir said haughtily as she rested an arm on Connie’s head. He quickly pushed it aside snapping at her. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t fight you two!” Christa cut in between them, arms spread out to create some distance.
“That’s my Christa. Always the peacemaker. Marry me when this exercise is over!”
“Come on, Armin. I know you can do it!” Sasha shouted and Armin had to smile at her unexpected but nevertheless appreciated show of support.
“Armin.” Mikasa’s voice cut through all of the chatter and suddenly she had his full and undivided attention. “Yield.” It was a command yet Armin could hear the sincerity in her voice. She was worried, worried that if Armin made an attempt to escape he’d end up hurting himself. And despite the bruises she always left him with, Mikasa never wanted Armin to needlessly injure himself. She wanted him to stop, for his sake.
But once Armin comes up with a plan he can’t back down until he sees it through. “No,” he said firmly before leaning his head forward and connecting his lips with hers.
Numerous gasps filled the circle but Armin didn’t pay attention to any of that. As he predicted Mikasa’s holds immediately loosened and her legs went slack from the shock of his bold move. Quickly Armin took advantage of the situation grabbing Mikasa by the hips and spinning her on her back. He locked her arms to her side and held her legs firmly with his thighs.
A hush went through the crowd, the only sound being Armin and Mikasa trying to catch their breath. Mikasa was staring up at him, face flushed, eyes bewildered, mouth slightly open. Armin searched her eyes, searching for what, he couldn’t be sure. Understanding? Approval?
She was looking at him in a way Armin had never seen before. Not through him but _into_ him. And then she smiled, one of those rare precious Mikasa smiles and Armin couldn’t help but smile back.
“I yield,” Mikasa said breathlessly. | ca864483eccd4f59a8cb521c5f0ad8d0 | ['7f166d13aea64ee6b83d42532082582e'] | In an instant, the crowd went nuts. Exclamations of shock and jubilation ripped through the trainees. As Armin released Mikasa and stood up he could see that the range of reactions was varied to be sure. Jean looked like he was on the verge of tears with Marco giving him a sympathetic pat. Connie had his jaw completely slacked while Ymir poked him insistently a knowing smirk on her face. Reiner gave Armin a quick nod of approval followed by a wink making Armin feel a little dirty. Sasha was whooping and hollering loudly into the air. Armin couldn’t help but appreciate her over-the-top joy with his victory. When both he and Mikasa were standing their classmates swarmed to them.
Thomas was the first to speak “Armin, why on earth did you do that?” he asked incredulously.
“Because it was the only way he was going to get out of that hold,” Ymir answered for him, a wicked glint in her eye that caused Armin to blush even harder.
“Is that true Armin?” And it was as if the crowd surrounding them suddenly faded for it was Mikasa asking the question. Her tone soft and neutral but when Armin turned back to her there was a flicker in her eyes that he couldn’t place. He felt his heart freeze, his mind reeled, looking for meaning that probably wasn’t there.
Probably.
It was a simple question really. Not even a question, just a confirmation. That this had all been a strategy to win the match, that he was her best friend and would never have an ulterior motive, that despite his intelligence he couldn’t think of single other means to defeat her.
His throat seemed to seal up as he attempted to speak, his eyes never leaving hers, staring at him with patient curiosity. Soft but strong, that was how her hand had felt the day she had reached out for him curled up against the wall, how her hug felt after his grandfather never came home and how her lips had felt mere moments ago. Soft but strong.
Finally, with a cough, he was able to get the words out.
“Yes,” he lied.
There was a flash of...something on her face before she set herself in a neutral expression and gave him a stiff nod. Was he going crazy or did she almost seem disappointed?
That couldn’t be right.
“What the hell are you no good pig-shits doing just standing around?! Get back to training!”
The group around them quickly scattered, forming back into pairs, Sasha looking scared out of her wits for being caught lounging, Ymir merely shrugged before sauntering back to her partner, a lazy arm resting on Christa’s shoulder. Jean for his part had to be physically pulled by Marco in order to snap him out of whatever daze he was in.
It seemed nearly all of his classmates had stopped their training to gawk at him and Mikasa, all expect Eren and Annie who were so absorbed in their (very one-sided) fight that they haven’t even noticed their fellow cadets congerating.
He looked to his side and saw that Mikasa was staring at Eren as well. Her hand had found the edge of her scarf and pulled it up over her mouth, a habit Armin knew she did when she was seeking comfort after something upset her.
It was never nice to feel ignored.
So Armin reached out.
“Mikasa?” He asked quietly, his arm going to her shoulder on instinct. He waited for her, patiently, to turn around. But whether it was to get her to focus on their training or to just look at him Armin couldn’t exactly say.
After a few more seconds she turned back to him, eyes shining but face smooth as porcelain. The light of the morning sun caught in her hair, making her look like one of those portraits of the three goddesses. Ethereal and powerful.
For a moment Armin forgot how to breathe. They stayed like that for a minute, just staring at each other before Armin took a deep breath and brought his shaking fists in front of his face.
“You ready?” He asked, his fists trembling slightly, a not-so-unpleasant shiver ran up his spine as Mikasa regarded him, a firm look in her eye.
She fell into a stance that matched his. “I will not fall for the same trick twice.” To anyone else, this could be perceived as a joke but not Mikasa. She meant it. He may have been able to catch her off guard once but fundamentally Mikasa would not yield. Not ever.
Armin’s eyes flickered over to the other side of the practice yard where his best friend was getting yet another face-full of dirt.
Mikasa was strong, in nearly every sense of the word.
Armin smiled weakly. “Oh, I have no doubt about that.”
**Author's Note:**
> Comments are always super appreciated. Arumika needs love! |
23c971eedde6482e836d5bf464d9f731 | ['7f2bd52a267e459a8da781d07eebdc9b'] | Petting his husband's knee Greg chuckled, “There now love, you'll live. I promise I won't tell Sherlock.” Sitting back in his chair, taking a sip of his own tea, Greg gazed thoughtfully at his partner.
“What is it you don't understand?”
“Why did you cry? Why were you so upset? I was, what I mean to say is.”
Inhaling sharply, Mycroft sat up straighter before starting from the beginning.
“I was worried about you.”
If Greg knew anything about Mycroft, and he did mind you - like the beautiful dusting of freckles that graced his back and arms, or the way he'd moan whenever Greg pulled and sucked on his earlobe, or the way he would turn his plate so that all of the food would be at a 45 degree angle – Greg knew when Mycroft was avoiding feelings, sentiment. Watching quietly as Mycroft fidgeted quietly, he thought about what Mycroft was asking, about what he wasn't asking.
“I don't need kids. Sure, I'd love to have some of my own, but we don't need to have any if you don't want to.”
Aha, so that was it.
Mycroft's entire frame had stiffened, quickly confirming what Greg had thought. Walking across the room and plopping himself into Mycroft's lap, he waited. Mycroft slowly began running his hand up and down his leg.
“I do not wish to deny you of anything. Especially things you've wanted and dreamed off all of your life.”
Cradling the sharp, angular face of is husband, Greg felt like crying.
“You're all of dreamed of, how could I be sad with you? You're all I need.”
Pressing their lips together Greg tried to convey all of the words he couldn't say into this kiss. All of the love he had for the man underneath him, about how much he trusted him, and most importantly, how Mycroft was his new dream. Growing up he was taught that he should want a wife, a house with a picket fence and the traditional 2.5 children.
As he got older, he realized his bisexuality, and it took a while for him to come to terms with the fact that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't end up with that cookie cutter life, and while it was hard at time, Mycroft made it all worth it.
Because even if they never had kids, and only had their cat Vladimir, that was enough.
Greg loved his life with Mycroft, he loved it despite the late nights and the early mornings, he loved it despite the long trips and the sudden emergencies, he loved it despite the government functions and the police dinners, he loved it because any time spent with Mycroft was time well spent.
He loved having someone so in love with him, that they would clear out their own schedule to take him to a football game, for a team Mycroft didn’t even like. He loved having someone he could cook for, someone that enjoyed his cooking and would rather stay home then go out at a restaurant. Greg loved catching Mycroft watching him; the love in his eyes was enough to make Greg melt. He held on tightly to the younger man, trying hard to make him feel all the love he had for him. Even if it took a lifetime to show Mycroft, Greg was determined to show just how important he was.
The next morning Greg awoke to a text from Sidney, asking him and Mycroft to come visit again.
“I know you probably don't want to hear any more from me, but please come.”
Groaning, Greg turned back over into bed, curling his arm around Mycroft he snuggled against the man's warm back. Breathing in his familiar scent he relaxed, right as he felt himself drifting off, Mycroft rolled over. Running his hand through Greg's hair he smiled softly, “What did she say?”
Rolling onto his back, Greg sighed, “She wants to see us again.”
“Mhmm.”
“You don't seem surprised?”
“Hardly. It was obvious she had more to say.”
“You mean that she was hiding something else from me?”
Sighing, Mycroft shifted closer, “I hadn't wanted to say it quite like that.”
The pair remained silent, snuggling close to each other, after another 20 minutes, Mycroft spoke up.
“So when are we going?” | 9389b4fafc6e43d69eab2e6f2407b071 | ['7f2bd52a267e459a8da781d07eebdc9b'] | Sigrid, bless her heart, was so excited to have someone sing along with her, that she put another song on. This one Thranduil did know, because Legolas sang it a lot when it first came out, and it took Thranduil way too long to realize his son wasn't actually talking about the ice cream kind of milkshakes. So of course, he sang along and prided himself on remembering bits of the dance Legolas had tried to teach him, he pulled it off well enough while driving that Sigrid recorded him on her phone.
He was having such a good time that he didn't notice until later how loud the music was playing, he did have a state of the art stereo system, and it was a nice day so he had pulled the top to his convertible down, but still- he didn't realize it was loud enough to hear it down the street.
After that, Thranduil requested The Pussycat Dolls, and by the time they had reached Bard's Auto Shop they were in full swing. Pulling into the garage he caught sight of his husband's broad grin as Sigrid sashayed out the car, singing about her future groupies. Grinning sheepishly he leaned over for a quick kiss, reveling in feeling Bard's hand instinctively flex, he hated to touch Thranduil while at work; “I'll ruin your clothes.” He'd say. As if Thranduil gave a fuck.
A shrill voice interrupted what was otherwise an absolutely fantastic kiss.
“Is this the famous designer husband you were telling me about, Bardy?”
Thranduil knew that tone, whirling around he was faced with what on any other circumstances he would consider a very attractive woman. Her pouty, dark wine colored lips complimented her skin perfectly, and she knew it too. Her clothes were near immaculate, tank top clinging to her curves in ways that models would kill for, in essence she was the body a designer prayed for.
But Thranduil could care less about that, putting on his cool smile-the one he saved for the press and other snakes he held out his hand. “I am, and you are?” Taking his hand, the slimy worm smiled, her bright white teeth almost blinding, “I'm Susanne.”
Nodding slightly, Thranduil quickly placed his hand back in his pocket, he was just about to turn and face his husband when Susanne piped up again. “Well, singing may not be your thing, but I'm sure your clothes are beautiful.
Bard piped up from behind him, and Thranduil could just see him twiddling with the frays on his jumpsuit cuffs. Something he did only when he was nervous that Thran was about to blow.
“Susanne-uhm, she came in to get her tires, checked.”
“How nice, I do hope everything was all right.”
Waving her hand nonchalantly, Susanne nodded, “Yes they're fine, just needed to fill them up, they were running a bit low.”
“I see,” Thranduil all but sneered, “It's always convenient to have a ready supply of hot air around, isn't it darling?” Turning his eyes over to his husband, he almost felt bad for how nervous Bard looked. He shot Thranduil a placating look, Please don't. Not here, not right now.
Sighing to himself, Thranduil nodded briskly, “Right, well Susan-”
“Its Susanne.”
“Right, of course, Su, it was lovely meeting you, but I have kids to pick up so if you could just give me a few minutes with my husband-”
“Oh yes, of course.”
Thranduil waited a full 7 seconds before raising an eyebrow at the serpent in front of him, who promptly scurried off to the far end of the garage. It wasn't until then that Thranduil let out a sigh of relief.
“What the fuck was that?”
Turning toward his husband, he smiled as Bard leaned against his convertible. Stepping up, into the space between Bard's legs Thranduil snickered. “That my darling husband, is simply me, claiming my territory.”
Pressing his lips against Bard's neck, Thranduil reveled in the taste and smell of motor oil and sweat, and the distinctively Bard smell, like, cloves and the Chai Tea he sneaks when he thinks no one is looking. “I thought, all animals mark their territory.”
Sliding a hand down the faded grey jumpsuit Thranduil purred, “Oh they do, but that can't happen until tonight.” Grasping Bard's crotch he gave it a firm squeeze, before lightly skimming his fingers across the zippered fly. “And that may take a while.”
Pulling back, he smirked at Bard's already flushed face and slowly growing erection.
“Remember to pick up a pizza on the way home.”
“You know, I think we need to switch it up a bit, I'm beginning to think the kids are catching on.”
“Oh Bard please, they're children, we're their parents, they don't even think of us that way.”
Legolas shrugged as Bain came into the kitchen, sitting on a bar stool the younger boy groaned,
“You know, they really need to start getting something other than pizza when they want to shag each other's brains out, I'm kind of getting sick of pepperoni.”
Legolas nodded, after a moment he sighed, “D'you wanna get some Chinese?”
Bain's face lit up as he nodded, Legolas smiled and ruffled his younger brother's hair.
“Ok, go get the girls and let's get outta here.”
Snatching the keys off the hook, Legolas climbed halfway up the stairs before leaning against the banisters. “Ada! Bard! We know you're busy shagging up there, but the kids and I are tired of pizza so we're off to find something a bit more appetizing. Text me if you want anything!”
Sigrid was waiting for him at the door, giggling behind her hand, “Ada's going to be furious.”
“Oh he'll be fine.” Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he smirked before showing it to Sigrid.
“See what I mean?”
It was a text from Thranduil;
_Fuck off ___
5. You're my Wonderwall (part 2) - Tauriel & Killi
**Summary for the Chapter:** |
00c7e63fca4c405a8be7e793cb4ec535 | ['7f386d6ad2974d50b83bcd0acc20b195'] |
Letters
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Thanks to my fabulous betas, you know who you are :D
Hauguenau 1945
Malarkey woke before the rest of the men in his squad. They were scattered all over the OP, wherever they could find somewhere to drop their kits but he could hear them breathing together in the steady rhythm of sleep, a single sound broken by the occasional cough or rustle of movement.
It was cold, but he had been colder in the woods, he tossed his blanket over Lieb as he rose sharing the lingering heat of his body for as long as it lasted and moved to the window. The sky was a hazy purple grey, pretty, reminded him of home and he wished he knew the name of the river that was all that stood between them and Germany.
Out of habit he glanced at his watch; the platoon had been without a Lieutenant since Buck had been taken off the line and somehow that meant he had seniority until they found some fresh faced youngster to take command. He rifled his pockets for a cigarette - slid his hand into one pausing when he felt the envelope he’d had there since their mail had started coming through again.
He slowly pulled it out, turned the beat up envelope over in his hand and then turned it again, his thumb grazed the smudged name there, Warren Muck; it was blurred from his touch. He shoved it back in his pocket before lighting the smoke.
“Sweet Faye Tanner.” He muttered, taking a deep drag on his cigarette, he wished the letter had never come.
*
Camp Toccoa 1942
“Mail call!” Winters’ form filled the doorway, a tall and tireless silhouette despite every ounce of torture Sobel dished out. The men would hate him except he wasn’t the sort of man you hated, never asked for more than he gave and did what he could to soften the pettiness of their CO.
“Malarkey!” His voice boomed, and Don groaned from his prone position on his bunk.
“I can’t move.” He complained. Muck laughed and thumped him on the chest.
“I got it. I’m expecting a letter from Faye.” His name was called and he clapped his hands together looking for an instant like a boy rather than a man preparing for war bouncing to his feet to go get his mail.
“Ain’t nothing like a dame ta put a spring in yer step, eh Joe,” Guarnere said returning with his own mail, Toye snorted sitting on his bunk, shining his boots.
“That’s not his step.” They were still laughing when Skip dropped an envelope on Malarkey’s head. Don tore it open without sitting up, every inch of him hurt, and scanned the news from home, everybody was doing well, they missed him, his mom worried.
“Mmmm honeysuckle.” Skip was sprawled on his bunk sniffing his letter.
“You gonna smell it or read it?” Toye tossed his socks at the other man and Muck batted them away.
“I’m savoring.”
“Ya hear that Don?” Guarnere dropped onto Malarkey’s bed and he groaned as it jostled tired aching muscles. “He’s savoring.”
“Quit savoring, and read the damn thing.”
“Sorry boys, this here is a one hundred percent grade A private kind of letter. Way too good for the likes of you. Faye’s not just a good time for on a weekend pass.” He sniffed it again and tore it open, ignoring the good natured teasing as he pulled out a rosary, he tucked the gift in his pocket and smiled as he read his letter.
*
Hauguenau 1945
The new Lieutenant looked too young to be shaving but he couldn’t have been more than a year, maybe two, younger than Don himself. Eager to please, and asking all the questions he was supposed to ask.
He couldn’t help but stare at the man’s uniform, wondering if his own had ever been so green, now it was faded and tattered like everything else that had been here the whole time. Hell even the man’s helmet was shiny.
“They haven’t made any attempts to cross the river?” It caught his attention, the inanity of it, for a second he wasn’t sure the man had even asked.
“No,” he said slowly, formulating a response that wouldn’t get the West Pointer’s skivvies in a bunch. “They have a roof over their heads sir, just like us. I don’t think anyone wants to do anything stupid. Right?”
“Can’t speak to that Sergeant.” He clear his throat and Malarkey’s stomach sank, he could see it coming before it hit. “There’s a patrol tonight, Captain Speirs has selected some of the men. Yourself and a few others.”
He nodded, filing the names away as the Lieutenant rattled them off but he was looking out the window again at the house across the river instead of paying full attention. So much for a roof.
*
Aldbourne 1944
“I’ll be seeing you…” Much couldn’t carry a tune if you handed it to him in his reserve chute bag, and Malarkey winced, shouldering his friends weight as they headed back from the enlisted men’s club.
“You don’t shut the hell up we won’t be seeing anything because the Captain will ding us so hard we won’t be seeing leave again until Hitler decides to give up.” He chided, the night was quiet, the whole town was quiet and the last thing they needed was to get a drunk and disorderly just before shipping out again.
“What’s in Holland anyway?” Skip complained, more quietly. He’d been asking variations on that question since the newly minted First Sergeant had announced it.
“Germans, I assume.” Malarkey wasn’t much in the mood for joking, or answering, even if he had answers.
“How am I supposed to ask her to wait,” Muck sounded suddenly sober and Malarkey paused and looked at him. | a443ae4036db4d0bbd555464cf3efb45 | ['7f386d6ad2974d50b83bcd0acc20b195'] |
Countdown
**Author's Note:**
> Much thanks to my betas various and sundry of you - you know who you are; and to [](http://nami86.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://nami86.livejournal.com/)**nami86** for the wonderful art that inspired this.
Thirty six hours. Possibly more.
Arthur has a need to be precise, to time real life the way they time the dreams. He knows Cobb’s plan was to fly in, find Eames (probably in the nearest gambling house) and get out before Cobol caught wind of his arrival. He knows the average flight time between Mombasa and Paris and the schedules of the various airlines since such details are his job.
He can do the math.
He does the math without actually thinking about it to be honest, so he isn’t waiting for her to come back. He has too much to take care of to focus on that. So much to do and thirty six hours minimum, forty eight if something goes wrong or Eames is on a bender, to do it in. Probably safe to assume forty eight.
He clicks through a mental list of tasks he has to accomplish before Cobb comes back, it would be tight, particularly if he has to train a new architect but he finds himself looking forward to it. To the challenge of course, to seeing what she can do in light of Cobb’s description of how naturally she’d picked up the flow of how things worked in dreams. Certainly he’d been as impressed with her show of pique and willingness to tell Cobb where to shove his job offer as Cobb had been with her speed and inventiveness within the dream but it was simply an amused interest because she was such a tiny slip of a girl and he’d seen grown men shrink under Cobb’s scrutiny.
He wasn’t counting, or clock watching, it was just the way his mind worked that he knew that she came back five hours after Cobb left. They need each hour they have to prepare. He knows the mark, the research that needs to be begun, and he knows what they will need by way of supplies when Cobb returns and planning begins in earnest. He knows what she will need to learn, the tricks and the secrets. These are things he’d learned over time but they don’t have the time to do it slowly, to take baby steps.
Luckily time moves more slowly in dreams but even with that he knows things will be tight. He’ll have to focus, and not on the new architect. Unfortunately.
Forty three hours left; he sets an internal countdown.
They start with paradoxical architecture; Penrose stairs, Escher in action and then move on to ways to increase the size of the dreamspace without adding too much complexity for the dreamer. Symmetric architecture, strange loops like mental mobius strips and Jacob’s ladder’s.
“We’re back where we started aren’t we?” She asks him suddenly as they are walking down a quiet stretch of pristine white sand beach along a tree lined wilderness. Cobb was right, she’s a natural in the dreamscape; it took her less time than he’d thought it would for her to pick up on it. It's the changeability, he thinks, that makes her uncertain more than anything else; the lack of solid, well-defined structures that could potentially stand forever. It’s an emotional block, not a mental one; she sees the dreamspace perfectly, with a clarity he envies but it can take time to accept that the things you build in dreams will not endure. That’s the hardest lesson he has to teach her in the end, to let go of the idea that anything she does will ever be tangible to anyone else.
“What makes you say that?”
“The footprints,” she points to a set of tracks in the sand obvious now that they aren’t back where the beach was teeming with people. “Those are our footprints.”
“I was wondering if you’d notice, most people don’t pay as much attention to the little things like that. They think they’re walking down a new stretch of beach so it all feels different even if it looks the same.”
She stops, glances back down the beach in the direction they came and tilts her head quizzically as she looks up at him, he can almost see the wheels turning as she works out how he did it, can see her calculating it, working out ways to add this kind of loop to the levels she’ll be designing. She smiles when she has it figured out.
“You created a closed loop.” He nods and she laughs, surprisingly he has to force himself not to notice the clear bell like quality of it. “In my head now we’re hanging upside down on the underside of the loop. Like that story, the Little Prince?”
“Where he can walk all the way around his planet,” he inclines his head toward the forest where the trees have started to merge and change, as though blooming in slow motion from generic conifer to Baobab trees like in the story that the Prince always had to pull up before they grew entrenched and destroyed everything.
“Don’t do that, everything will turn to dust if they take root.” Her hand brushes his sleeve and it might be the first time she’s touched him, usually he knows things like that but for a moment he can’t recall. The trees shift back into what they were though, he’s as loathe as she is to have this world collapse and he starts walking again, pulling away from her hand as though the touch is as potentially destructive to his peace of mind as the Baobab trees were to the Prince’s world. |
c69686f5fa67443d893f554b45dd5443 | ['7f50e357ffee4d3988efdb011071bb9c'] | “I just… I feel alone. It sucks. I kinda want a housemate, maybe? Someone to actually mess up the place. Make noise. Bother me. I don't know. But also, I can’t do that because I’m socially awkward and I’m scared that my housemate would hate me? Just— how do you get someone to live with you and guarantee that they’d like me and my pathetic ass?” It’s clear that Jeongguk has drank enough alcohol to be a bit more open with his feelings now; the nice, nostalgic feeling of just hanging around and talking over tasty lamb skewers and Jjajangmyeon that Seokjin fondly cooked up just for him making him more loose tongue than he usually is.
“For an author, when you talk, it doesn’t sound eloquent,” teases Namjoon, taking a sip out of the bottle of Soju Jimin brought with him. The young author under fire only glares, clearing his throat.
“ _As I was saying._ How? I know Joonie hyung doesn’t have this problem because he and Jinnie hyung are practically married already— which, by the way, when are you planning to pop the question already, oh dear Master Chef? But yeah. I’ll direct this question to the single Pringles in our group that isn’t me. Jimin. Yoongi hyung. Any helpful inputs?” Seokjin chokes on his drink and splutters, a wide eyed and speechless Namjoon staring at his boyfriend of six years. Jeongguk doesn't seem to mind that he dropped a very serious bomb for the couple.
Jimin mumbles a _‘it’s hyung, you brat’_ under his breath, but answers anyways. “I don’t know. Maybe invest in a relationship and ask them to move in? They’d have to like you by then.” Jeongguk immediately shoots the idea down.
“I don’t have enough time to invest in a relationship,” Jeongguk replies, voice levelled and deadpan.
“Maybe you should get a comfort hybrid, Gguk.” All heads in the table shot up towards Yoongi.
“You… You have one,” asks Jimin, disbelieving.
“You can’t convince me that Yoongi got a hybrid,” Seokjin snorts.
“You should all shut up and let Yoongi hyung speak. He _might_ actually be of help. Unlike all of you.”
The mentioned ‘hyung’ actually starts to look sheepish, much to the surprise of everyone around the table. “Yeah. I actually… adopted one. Had the same problem as Jeongguk. Couldn’t really take the silence, couldn’t write good lyrics or bars. His name is Hoseok. He’s a golden retriever dog hybrid. Very playful. Uhm, bright too.”
“Yah! I want to meet him! Why didn’t you bring him with you!”
“I can’t believe you got a hybrid and didn’t even tell me!”
“You got a _dog_ hybrid? An active base animal who loves to play and run around? Not a lazy cat that you can relate to? _Wow_.”
“Is Holly too boring for you now because he’s exactly like you?”
Yoongi sighs at the uproar his friends just created, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Fuck you all. You act like I don’t do anything besides sit and produce music. I’m going to fucking remind you all that I played in the school basketball team all throughout high school _and_ college. Anyways. Point is that I didn’t tell you guys because I knew you’d all make a big deal out of it. But now that it’s out in the open, I’ll bring Seok-Seok the next time we meet up.” Yoongi’s eyes soften, glancing back at their group maknae. “You should try it, Gguk.”
Silently, Jeongguk sinks into his seat, thoughtful. A comfort hybrid? He’s heard of them, seen some of them, but he never really thought much about them until now. “Yeah… maybe. I’ll look it up, hyung. But first! Tell us more about your _‘Seok-Seok’_ ,” grinning, Jeongguk watches Yoongi groan and mutter a _‘not you too’._
Now that he’s been given some suggestions, Jeongguk lets the topic go. Now, it’s just him and his four hyungs joking around and talking like they always did during their college years— or at least, the college years Jeongguk spent with them.
⚜
_“Hybrids, more commonly referred to as “comfort hybrids”, are the result of experimentation. Despite popular belief of hybrids being humans experimented on, it’s actually the other way around. During 1700, scientists experimented on placing human DNA within animal DNA. It went on, and today, we have our so called comfort hybrids! Through evolution, they’ve looked more and more human, learned to talk, feel emotions; they’re basically humans, but not entirely._
_Since they have their own conscious mind, all hybrids are “domesticated”— none are hostile at all!_
_Common uses for hybrids in this generation vary: some adopt hybrids to act as babysitters, some as companions or “watch dogs”, and for some, they adopt hybrids for sexual purposes._
_Interested? Find the nearest hybrid adoption centre near you!”_
Jeongguk blinks at the words owlishly, head slightly tilted. So basically, hybrids are human pets? Or upgraded escorts. Inbred nannies? He still doesn’t really get what their purpose is or why people are so… _chill_ with the concept of basically owning a human pet, but he knows that if it’s something bad, Yoongi would never do it. And if Yoongi knew the embarrassment he’d get for admitting that he got himself a hybrid but still went through it just to give his two cents to Jeongguk, then his hyung must have some sort of point. Maybe he should try.
Hesitantly, Jeongguk clicks the _‘Find the nearest hybrid adoption centre near you!’_ link, clicking on the first one that pops up. He’s immediately bombarded with more information than his brain could process at the moment. Jeongguk still doesn’t get it and he’s already being shown all these rules, terms and conditions, paperwork, breeds— _whatever_. It’s too much effort for him to do at four in the morning, the minimised panel of his word document reminding him that he has more important matters to waste his energy on. | 19c2830c5d56423e95a23860b54d4331 | ['7f50e357ffee4d3988efdb011071bb9c'] | Taehyung plants his feet to the floor for leverage, gripping and spreading Jeongguk’s ass with each hand— and starts to fuck up into the other. It’s not as fast of a pace as he likes, but he has to be mindful of the noise. The point was to have a thrill, not to actually get caught. If Jeongguk knows that or not, Taehyung doesn’t tell.
Gritting his teeth and shutting his eyes, Jeongguk listens to the stream of more bullshit that his secretary narrates. It’s like the whole fucking establishment is useless without his jurisdiction and it’s getting annoying. Jeongguk hates being in the position where all the decisions have to go through him before they’re brought to the president and carried out. “Listen, Solhyun, I’m already on this o-one ca— one case,” Jeongguk clears his throat to stop a moan, “I’m not about to do another one in one day. I’m on a filed, approved vacation. I-I don’t care if the marketing department are… aren’t allowed to pass proposals without—“
Like the unpredictable little shit Taehyung strives to be, he stands, moving Jeongguk with him. The new position makes Jeongguk lean on his elbows against the free space of the desk. Taehyung, on the other hand, has moved his hands from Jeongguk’s ass to Jeongguk’s hips, pulling Jeongguk back every time he thrusts forward. Jeongguk chokes on a moan, right with his assistant on the phone.
_‘Sir are you alright?’_
“Do you think? Of c-course I’m, _ah_ , not alright. I think ‘m having a hh— headache because of all this.” Despite his best efforts to keep his voice steady, Taehyung is starting to fuck him faster, harder, and it’s impossible for Jeongguk to do so. Hopefully his assistant just buys the alibi and labels him as sick. “I woh— won’t get anything done on phone,” he sighs shakily, “we’ll get somewhere faster w-when… when I finish typing up the documents. I’ll just email it by later. Don’t, _fu_ — don’t bother calling me again today.”
Hurriedly, Jeongguk ends the call and pants in between breathy little moans. “Fuck you, I could’ve been, could’ve been found out,” he hisses, voice wavering. His heart is beating fast, all because of adrenaline and thrill. He hates how he loved it, hates how he loves _this_.
The younger only chuckles, reaching forward to carefully push Jeongguk’s laptop further to the side— then flips Jeongguk onto his back, spread out against the desk. Taehyung hooks a leg over his shoulder, the other being pushed up and aside. He fucks Jeongguk deeper, low moans slipping past parted lips as he peers down at the sight before him. Jeongguk looks cute like this, with his glasses askew and slipping off just a bit, with nothing but his shirt on while he’s being fucked on the desk he was previously doing work on.
“That was hot, hyung. The way you told her off,” Taehyung grunts, “it’s cute how you don’t want to do the same to me though. You love it, don’t you, hyung? When I fuck you? Love it when you’re stuffed with my cock?” Jeongguk doesn’t answer, just tilts his head away from Taehyung, flushed down to his neck. Taehyung giggles, breathless. “Right, right. Forgot you liked it better when I called you baby— or good boy, was it?”
Faintly, Jeongguk mutters something along the lines of ‘shut up’, soft and barely decipherable behind all his whines.
Jeongguk’s phone starts to ring again.
With a frustrated sob, Jeongguk reaches for it blindly, probably to end the call, but Taehyung stops moving, hips pressed against Jeongguk’s ass, but he’s infuriatingly still. The caller ID reads “Honey” and the background is a photo of his mom. Taehyung feels his own heart stop, so he’s risking himself too when he says, “be a good boy and answer that for me, alright, hyung?”
Wide eyed, Jeongguk glances at the caller ID and gulps, close to tears. “I can’t— You know we fucking sh-shouldn’t.”
“Just— Just do it. She’ll worry more if you don’t answer,” Taehyung replied through grit teeth, hands twitching from where they’ve gripped around Jeongguk’s thighs.
_‘Jagiya, that took a while! Sorry if I bothered you while working!’_
“N-No it’s fine, I was just, _hng_ , I was just finished.” Jeongguk curses how faint his voice sounds, ruined and unstable. He prays to whatever it is up there that Hosook won’t question—
_‘Oh sweets what’s wrong? You sound weird. Are you sick? Do you want me to pick up some medicine from the store?’_
Just as Jeongguk was about to reply, Taehyung starts fucking moving again, just slow but deeper strokes that have Jeongguk gasping, fingers shaking around his own phone. What the fuck? Is Taehyung crazy?! Jeongguk glares at Taehyung and mouths a _‘what the fuck are you doing?’_
“N-No. I’m not sick just,” Taehyung snaps his hips and Jeongguk groans, the sound tapering off into a moan when the younger man slowly pulls back, the drag of his thick cock so good—
_‘What was that? Are you sure you’re alright? I swear if it’s because of overwork again—‘_
Panicking, Jeongguk tries to think of an alibi, but he finds himself a bit blank. Taehyung starts to pick back his pace from before, and Jeongguk is barely able to catch himself from moaning directly into his phone. “A-Ah, promise. It’s just— stretching. ‘M stretching. Guh— good yoga, you know? Good for… for b-bones.”
Taehyung pulls out and drags him down just a bit, so that part of his ass his off the table, other hand sliding down to splay over his stomach, close to where his cock is leaking precum onto his abs. Jeongguk yelps when Taehyung suddenly enters him again, hole accepting his cock greedily.
_‘That must be some hard yoga…’_ |
4b99209b678b43fcab2b739de7b3511c | ['7f936fe393fe4c9fafce178be97b3477'] | Read Me for Goodnight
**Author's Note:**
> I originally posted this on my tumblr and it's beta-ed by theinvisiblephan in there! :)
"He doesn't have long," the doctor told Phil who was sitting next to Dan's bed. "His heart rate is slowing down and he's having temporary cessations of breathing quite often now."
"Is he in pain?" Phil asked quietly looking at the fragile form of his boyfriend lying on the hospital bed.
Dan's illness had been quickly progressing and even though Dan and Phil had known from the beginning that death was inevitable and there was not much they could do Phil felt like this had all happened way too fast.
"We've given him as many painkillers as we can and he shouldn't be in pain. I'm afraid that these are the very last moments that he'll be alive." The doctor told Phil. "Would you like someone to be here or do you wish to be left alone?"
"I wish to be alone," Phil said. If these are the last moments he has with Dan he wants to spend them alone with him.
"As you wish. You can call the nurse if you need to," the doctor said and left the room.
Phil sat there holding Dan's hand and saw that he was opening his eyes. The chocolate brown eyes stared at Phil's blue ones and they just looked at each other for a while.
"Phil?" Dan asked weakly.
"Yes, love?"
"Will you read me for goodnight?" Dan said closing his eyes once again. He felt so tired.
"Of course," Phil said and took the big Winnie the Pooh book from the table next to Dan's bed.
When Dan had first fallen ill Phil had found out that Dan's mother had used to read him Winnie the Pooh stories when Dan was ill as a child. Since then it had become a habit that Phil would read for Dan when his pains made it hard to fall asleep or just when he wanted to make Dan feel even a little bit better.
Phil found the part where they had stopped last time he read to Dan and looked at his boyfriend.
"I love you Dan," he said.
"I love you too Phil," Dan said quietly.
That was all that had to be said anymore. They had been talking about the situation over and over again. Dan knew that Phil would miss him greatly and they knew that the situation was unfair. There was no point in going over those things again. They knew that this was the end, they didn't feel like filling the moment with desperate talking about everything. A simple 'I love you' told it all. It was all that was needed.
And so Phil started reading. He saw how Dan's breathing started to slow down and the heart rate monitor showed that the same was happening to his heart. The silent tears were streaming down Phil's cheeks and he felt the lump in his throath but kept on reading, his voice cracking every once in a while. But he couldn't stop reading. He wanted his voice to be the last thing Dan heard. As if he was reading a story for goodnight.
Phil saw that the heart rate monitor showed only a flat line now and Dan had stopped breathing completely. He put the book down and reached to brush Dan's fringe out of his face. Dan looked peaceful, like he indeed were just sleeping. Dan had slept away peacefully, and for that Phil was grateful. But it didn't make the loss feel any less than it really was. Like half of his heart died with Dan.
"Goodnight, Dan," he said kissing his forehead for the last time.
**Author's Note:**
> Okay, so... This is the first fic I'm posting here and I don't know how this site works but hey, I'm trying! :D | 86706d3e20744fba9685d44892a3dc70 | ['7f936fe393fe4c9fafce178be97b3477'] | “Well, Phil. You hit your head pretty hard when you fell earlier. I’ll ask a nurse to bring you something for the headache in a minute. I assume Dan here has explained what happened?” The doctor asked looking at Dan.
“Yeah, I told him that he apparently hit his head so hard while falling that he might have concussion.” Dan told frowning a bit.
“That’s right.” The doctor confirmed. “I’d be more than happy to let you both go home for the night but since you’ve both have concussion you need someone to wake you up every few hours at night to see that everything is okay. Dan told me that you’re living together. Is there anyone else living in the apartment who could do the waking up?”
“No, it’s just us two.” Dan told the doctor.
“I see,” The doctor said. “In that case I’ll have to ask you both to stay the night in the hospital. If everything is fine by the morning you’ll be free to go home.”
“Okay, sounds good. It’s getting late anyway,” Dan tells the doctor.
“Yeah,” Phil confirms.
“Okay. Dan, you can take the bed next to Phil’s and I’ll ask the nurse to bring you both some hospital clothes so you don’t need to sleep in those jeans.” The doctor told the boys and exited the room.
They were currently in a room that had five beds but luckily the rest of them were empty.
Dan sat back to the chair next to Phil’s bed while Phil was still holding his hand in his. They were talking about what had happened and then the nurse came not long after the doctor had left. The nurse brought Phil some medicine to help with the headache, and hospital clothes for them both. They thanked him and he left them alone to the room, telling them that someone was going to come and check on them in few hours.
They were both pretty tired from everything that had happened in the last few hours and it really was getting late so they changed their clothes to the hospital clothes the nurse brought to them and got ready for bed. Phil had to help Dan a bit seeing that Dan couldn’t really move his left hand.
“Dan?” Phil asked as he saw Dan climbing intoto his own bed that was couple of meters away from Phil’s.
“Yeah Phil?” Dan asked turning to look at Phil who was looking a bit hesitant.
“I know these beds are fairly small and we really aren’t but could we sleep in the same bed tonight? It’s just that earlier today I thought that I might lose you and never be able to fall asleep or wake up next to you and I’d just like to have you close tonight…” He trailed off.
“Of course we can.” Dan said. He took the blanket from his bed because there was no way they would both fit under Phil’s blanket and climbed next to Phil.
They settled under the blankets so that they were comfortable and Dan could keep his broken arm in a good position. The bed was small, it clearly wasn’t meant for two tall, grown up men but they didn’t mind. It’s not like they didn’t like sleeping close to each other.
“I feel so stupid…” Phil said quietly, almost so Dan didn’t hear it.
“What do you mean?” Dan asked looking worriedly at Phil’s pouting expression.
“You were in an accident and then you had to sit and wait next to my bed because I was stupid and freaked out so much that I fainted. You’ve had a horrible and stressful day and then I made you worry for me too.” Phil explained keeping his focus on his hands that were now fiddling with the blanket.
“Don’t be ridiculous Phil,” Dan told while lifting Phil’s chin so that the older would look him in the eyes. “It’s not your fault. You can’t blame yourself for panicking when you had no idea what had happened to me. You told me that you thought that I was dying, right?”
“Yeah,” Phil answered sniffling a little. “It was so scary Dan! It really got me thinking.”
“I know. You think too much even at the best of times so it’s understandable that you freaked out this time. It shows that you care.” Dan tried to reason with Phil.
“Of course I care. I love you so much.” Phil said.
“And I love you too,” Dan answered kissing Phil once to the lips. “Now let’s get some sleep so we can go back home in the morning.” Dan hugged Phil close with his good arm.
“Yeah, goodnight Dan” Phil said holding Dan close.
“Goodnight.”
**Author's Note:**
> Hello! Hope you liked it! :)
> This one is beta-ed by theinvisiblephan on tumblr! :) |
a3e8bf13201c4db3927e2c593f39c1dd | ['7fb5ac72039a4e8e90914f81d007a9a7'] | In Which Jesse McCree Does Something Really Stupid
**Author's Note:**
> So, this is my first actual ship-centered work. It's a 'Happy Birthday' present for my friend. It's kinda shor but I hope if you read it you like it.
Inspired by otp-prompts-for-you on Tumblr
Jesse McCree had been in the hospital many times in his life. When he lost his arm in a car crash as a teen, when he accidentally shot himself in the foot trying to do a trick with his gun, the time he got alcohol poisoning on New Year's Eve were just a few examples. But never had he been sent to the hospital because of a bar fight and his cousin had certainly never seen him in one of those cold, white rooms.
“You are an idiot,” Sombra smirked from the corner of the little hospital room.
“Shut up,” Jesse grumbled. His injuries weren’t the worst he ever had. Concussion, broken nose, sprained ankle, broken fingers and a broken wrist were basically nothing, but he sure made a pitiful sight as he sat up in the hospital bed. Sombra burst out laughing.
“Sorry cuz, but who- who out of the two of us got drunk and decided it would be a good idea to fight the biggest guy in the bar?” the girl almost doubled over laughing, “ and you still need to call Hand soap.”
“I physically can’t call him, “ Jesse rolled his eyes, “ My one good hand is busted. You gotta do it.”
“Oh no,” Sombra shook her head. She pulled out her phone and dialed a few numbers before giving the device to Jesse and running out of the room.
“Have fun!” she called
“Sombra!” Jesse yelled, “You little-”
“Jesse?” a groggy, Japanese accented voice came through the phone, “Jesse, why are you calling from Sombra’s phone at two am?”
“Howdy darling,” Jesse tried to sound casual, “How are you?”
“Jesse McCree, what did you do?” the voice sighed.
“Hanzo, darlin’, you know how you told me not to do anything stupid when I went drinking?”
“You have done something stupid,” Hanzo sighed, “Where are you?”
“I’m in the hospital,” Jesse laughed sheepishly.
“What did you do?” rustling could be heard in the background and Jesse assumed his boyfriend was going to go to the hospital to meet him.
“Bar fight,” was the American’s straight and simple answer.
The line was dead silent for a few moments, “I am not bringing you flowers.”
“Yeah I guess I deserve that,” Jesse laughed sheepishly
“I will, however, get you a ‘Get Well’ card” Jesse could almost hear the little grin in his boyfriend’s voice.
“Love ya darlin’.” Jesse grinned, “Drive safe. “
“I will see you in an hour you fool” Hanzo used the usually derogatory term as an endearment before hanging up. | e29bda26c8a9400eacd516bad0c482ad | ['7fb5ac72039a4e8e90914f81d007a9a7'] |
The Ending to Spider-Man Homecoming I Wish We Had
**Author's Note:**
> I have like, three other things I need to write, but I also just saw Spider-Man Homecoming. And this is the product of that.
“WHAT THE FUCK!” Peter jumped and spun only to face his aunt standing in his doorway, wide eyed in shock
“May! Uh, Aunt May! I can explain! I can explain! Uhh this is just a very cool set of uh… pajamas. Its pajamas. Yeah. Definitely.” Peter spoke nervously.
“Peter Benjamin Parker! What the actual Fuck!” She yelled at the boy, “And you better not lie to me! Or I swear I will ground you for-For- until forever! i will ground you forever!”
“Okay-okay!” Peter backed up a bit, a little scared because he had never seen his Aunt so livid. “I-I'm Spider-Man.”
They were both silent for a moment, processing the fact that that Peter actually said that. May literally just walked into the living room, away from Peter’s door. He stood motionlessly for a few moments before racing to the living room, where his Aunt sat on the couch, head in her hands.
“Aunt May?” Peter asked softly.
“Kid,” Aunt May slowly lifted her head from her hands, “Did you even have an internship with Tony Stark in the first place? Have you been lying about that too!”
“Mr. Stark, gave me the suit. He was monitoring me to make sure I didn’t get in over my head.” Peter hung his head in shame from being exposed as a liar.
“In over you- In over your head!” Aunt May stood, she was yelling, “Peter, you could get killed! You are fifteen! Fifteen!”
“Well what else am I supposed to do!” Peter met her angry gaze head on.He had faced everyday, run of the mill villains and super villains, he would not back down against his Aunt, “If I have these powers and I do nothing to help, then I am just as bad, if not worse than all the bad people that I stop!”
“You could die!” May yelled. Both stood in tense silence for a moment before Peter walked into his bedroom, grabbing his mask and his backpack of civilian clothing.
“Where are you going!” May demanded as Peter opened his window and slipped on his mask.
“Patrol.” He said coldly, slipping out the window.
He knew he shouldn’t act like such a child. He understood why his aunt reacted the way she did. Really, he did. It was just that, he wasn’t an idiot. He fully understood the consequences of what he was doing. He understood, he could die. But if he died s Spider-Man, at least he would die actually doing something worthwhile. So he patrolled the city for a few hours. For once he was actually productive.
He stopped a lot of people from doing crimes. A guy trying to steal from an old lady. Some guy trying to rape a girl (He may have used the taser webs on that one). Some girl buying drugs from a really old guy. He gave a nice old couple directions. Accidentally scared a young couple and he managed to get a pretzel from a stand guy because he saved their cousin in D.C. apparently. Even with the worthwhile patrol though, he felt bad for storming out on Aunt May. He sent her periodic texts during his patrol to let her know he was okay and he was sorry. Her only reply was that they had to talk.
“Aunt May?” He called, entering the front door in his civilian clothes, suit in his bag. She sat on the couch.
“Peter, come here.” She sighed, getting up and hugging him. Peter complied.
“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.
“I know kid, I know,” she squeezed him a little tighter, “Peter, you have so much to explain to me.”
Peter pulled away and nodded,“Okay. Where do you want me to start.”
“Can you do anything without,” she gestured to the backpack,”The suit.”
“Yeah. I can stick to things and I am super strong,’ Peter was tempted to tell her about how he lifted the rubble off of himself, but he figured that could give his aunt a heart attack.
“So with the suit you just shoot webs?” May raised her eyebrows. Peter nodded
“Watch.” he said, as he jumped and stuck his hand and feet to the ceiling. May shrieked, eyes going wide.
“Sorry! Sorry!” Peter lowered himself down.
“Jesus, Peter,” she said in shock, “ how did this... ”
“I got bit by a radioactive spider on a class trip.” Peter laughed nervously.
“Riight. Radioactive spider. Surprisingly not the weirdest thing I’ve heard today.” May smiled a little
“The suit Mr. Stark made uses a version of the webs I made. Slightly different but there’s super sticky webs and taser webs and the webs I use to swing around the city.” Peter explained.
“So Stark knows?” she asked.
“He uhh,” Peter said nervously, “offered me a job as an Avenger. But I turned it down because I don’t think I’m ready for that.”
“Well, at least you’re being responsible about something,” May sighed, “I’m assuming when Mr. Stark took you on the trip it was more explaining the suit than interning?”
“Uhh, actually,” How was he going to explain that…” I was in Germany. And I fought half of the Avengers,”
“WHAT!” May said furiously.
“But- but it’s okay-” Peter stuttered a little, “Because I actually sorta helped them win?’
“Explain, Peter.” May was pissed. |
aaa45acb281c423fa9cca9699dd4713b | ['7fb92fafc63b477b9344c852e53ec0ec'] | Wilson blinks; he's more upset than Pete considers warranted, given that his family didn't exactly keep a watch at his bedside when he nearly kicked the bucket. Perhaps he's playing Lisa, softening her so that she agrees to his plan to make her Joel's guardian. Not a bad strategy; Lisa is a lot less stretched than she was last week, but she's still far from mellow and chilled.
Wilson, after blinking away a few (pseudo-) tears, sits up straight and looks first Lisa, then him in the eye. "I've been doing a bit of thinking. My original plan, before I found out that House is Joel's biological father," he says ponderously, managing to give the term a slightly derogatory sound, "was to marry you, Cuddy, and have you adopt Joel as soon as possible."
Lisa snorts.
Wilson raises his eyebrows at her. "It's not particularly romantic, but people marry for worse reasons. Hell, _I've_ married for worse reasons. I like you, I respect you, and I trust you."
"Um, thank you," Lisa says, blushing.
"Hear, hear!" Pete mocks.
Wilson gives him a quelling look before continuing, "Obviously, I've had to rethink the matter since discovering the truth about Joel, but after initial doubts, I've come to the conclusion that my original plan wasn't all bad."
Now Lisa cocks an eyebrow at Wilson. Can she be so dumb as not to have realised from the start where this was headed? Apparently she has been so busy with her own problems that Wilson's preoccupied state of mind has escaped her notice.
Pete leans back. This is where Wilson will suggest guardianship of Joel to Lisa. Lisa won't find it in her to refuse, not with Wilson playing the 'dying man' card, and before she knows it, he'll have manipulated her into promising to give Pete visitation rights. (It would be an amusing scene to watch if Lisa weren't so obviously at a disadvantage.) At the end of the conversation Wilson will ask him whether he is okay with the arrangement, indicating by voice and expression that he'd better be. He will agree to whatever Wilson suggests, because if Lisa is prepared to do all this for a kid who isn't even hers, he can hardly play up.
"It's hardly feasible now," Lisa says, tipping her head towards Pete.
"True," Wilson agrees. "Marrying you isn't really on the books anymore. But … ." He hesitates.
It's going to come now. Pete observes Lisa's face, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Three, two, one … .
Wilson says, "I can marry House."
Lisa's chin drops dramatically. Pete grins — until his brain catches up with what his ears just heard.
"Wait, _what_?" he says, turning hastily to Wilson.
"Don't tell me the thought hasn't occurred to you," Wilson says sharply. After eyeing him for a moment he sighs. "No, it hasn't. You still believe that this is _my_ problem, not _our_ problem. It's simple: we marry, you adopt Joel as soon as Amy gives her consent (like I planned for Cuddy to do), and if I die, you have no legal hassles."
For once, he's rendered completely speechless.
Lisa, however, isn't. "Sounds like a plan," she says crisply. "One for which you don't need me. I'll leave you to discuss the details." She rises.
"Wait," Wilson says, rising too. "This affects you."
Lisa glances at him dispassionately. "No," she says. "This is between the two of you. But you're asking a lot of him at short notice."
"I'm not _asking_ anything of him. I'm simply making a suggestion," Wilson says. "He's free to take it or leave it."
"And if I refuse?" Pete asks. His voice is croaky.
"Then I expect you to suggest alternatives or to accept any other arrangement that I make for Joel without interfering. Either you're in on this or you're out, but you can't sabotage what I organise without taking responsibility in turn. Are we clear on that?" His eyes are narrow and hard.
Pete drops his eyes. Wilson means business.
Lisa sits down and taps the table impatiently. "What alternative do you have?" she asks no one in particular.
Wilson pinches the bridge of his nose. "We come clean to Amy and hope that she doesn't try to send House to jail. But I don't want to do that; I'd lose all legal rights without any guarantee that it'll benefit House … or Joel. Or I designate you as guardian in the event of my death, stipulating that you grant House visitation rights."
"Oh," Lisa says. She looks at Pete thoughtfully. "Not ideal."
"Under the circumstances — no," Wilson agrees.
"Can't you name House guardian?" she asks.
Wilson shrugs. "I can, but he's neither a relative nor closely connected in any other manner. If I die in the near future and Amy challenges the guardianship, then you have better cards than he does. A judge is more likely to accept you than House. You live in the same house as Joel, you have a child already, you're a woman. That carries a lot of clout. Obviously, that would change if I survived for long enough that House could become a fixture in Joel's life, but I don't think we should bet on that."
"I see," Lisa says. "It's me or him. … Then I guess you two had better get married."
"Hey, isn't anyone going to ask me what I want?" Pete asks by way of a token protest.
"Um, no?" Wilson says.
Lisa, rising again, pats Pete's arm. "Go buy a ring," she says.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> **A/N:** Many thanks to menolly_au, without whose input the chapter would have been unintelligible.
> I repeat, this fic _will_ end with the pairing House/Cuddy; it'll just take time and patience to get there. And no, I don't intend to kill Wilson off :)
16. All's Well That Ends ... | 59a4d44a661849e7b2aa60c0d21d797c | ['7fb92fafc63b477b9344c852e53ec0ec'] | Lisa levelled a hard stare at him, while Staines considered him. "I take it that coming here wasn't _your_ idea," he said.
"Nope." (Lisa had marched into the living room after work jangling her car keys and had informed him that he could either come with her _stat_ to meet someone who'd help them or pack his things and get out.)
"And yet you came."
He put on his best 'put-upon' expression, thrusting out his lower lip. "If I hadn't come, she wouldn't have let me play with Jimmy any more."
More eye twitching. "Okay. What else did you like about Lisa when you started dating her?"
He scrutinised the wallpaper on the wall behind Staines, but it held no answers. "I don't remember," he said.
"Pete, if we're to make progress, …"
"He _really_ doesn't remember," Lisa interposed, rising unbidden to his defence. "He had … an accident, and he suffers from retrograde amnesia."
"Oh," Staines said, "that's - interesting." And he meant it.
"Finished staring at the chimp in the zoo?" Pete barked.
Staines was frowning thoughtfully. "So … if you don't remember dating Lisa, you have no reason to resent her," he finally said.
"I don't resent her. As you said yourself, coming here was her idea, not mine," Pete pointed out. " _I'm_ fine!"
(This was going in circles.)
"And you're sure that your behaviour is not intended to annoy her," Staines prodded.
"Abso-fucking-lutely!"
"He's trying to convince me that he's not good enough for me. And he does have reason to resent me," Lisa said. "When we started dating the second time, he had amnesia already, and I didn't tell him that we'd dated before." She wasn't looking at them; she was picking imaginary lint off her sweater.
Staines breathed out heavily and leaned back. "This is complicated," he said. "I'm not sure I have the facts sorted in my mind."
Pete generously helped out with the Spark Notes of their personal history. "It's easy. We dated; I fucked it up; I fried my brain. We dated again; we split up; Wilson got sick."
Lisa had practically picked a hole in her sweater by now and judging by her next contribution, she hadn't really been listening. She just continued her guilt trip exactly where she'd left off before. "And I ordered his leg to be amputated," she half whispered.
It was time to put a stop to her random confidences. "If you're in need of therapy, call your shrink," he said brutally, "but spare us your confessions. _I_ don't remember what you did; _he_ doesn't know; _neither_ of us care. You're only easing your own conscience."
"Amputation?" Staines asked. Judging by his expression, he'd lost the plot some time ago, and his eyelids were competing with hummingbirds' wings.
Pete knocked on his prosthetic. "Robo-Doc here," he said. "Accident; I was unconscious; she ordered the procedure. It's not relevant." He folded his arms to indicate that the access route to the amputation was closed to therapeutic traffic.
Staines got the message. "Okay, let's go back a bit. Let's go with the assumption that you don't resent Lisa."
"Oh, _thank_ you!"
" _Are_ you trying to convince her that you're not good enough for her?"
"Why would I want to do that?"
"Because she wants a relationship, but you don't?" Staines surmised.
(Maybe he wasn't a total moron.)
"I don't want …," Lisa said, but shut her mouth again when Pete grinned at her.
"It's good to be honest about your feelings," Staines told Lisa. Pete mentally high-fived him. "It's the only way we can resolve the situation. Now, let's establish some ground rules. Lisa, try to keep all communication with Pete down to a bare minimum. Avoid situations where you're alone with him. That way, he won't feel like he's being pressured into something he doesn't want."
"I'm _not_ pressuring …," Lisa began. And much as Pete would have liked to see her squirm some more under Staines's prejudiced eye, he deemed it more important to put an end to this charade.
"I don't feel pressured by her," he interrupted Lisa, turning to Staines.
Staines more or less ignored his statement. "Pete, you shouldn't resort to _showing_ Lisa that you don't want a relationship. If you feel cornered, then _say_ so! Send clear, unequivocal messages. Actions can be misinterpreted; words, however, …"
" … can also be misunderstood," Pete cut in, "judging by the conclusions you've reached. Lisa isn't hitting on me at every opportunity. I'm not feeling molested."
"Then why are you acting up?" Staines asked.
Pete cocked his head to the left. "Aren't you supposed to be neutral?"
Staines smiled without humour. "I _am_ being neutral. That doesn't blind me to your behaviour. Ever since you got here you've been acting bored and put-upon, as though you were doing Lisa a favour, when it seems to me that she's doing _you_ a favour: she's letting you stay at _her_ place so that you can be with your friend."
"I'm doing Wilson a favour, not him," Lisa said tiredly. "And I profit too, as long as Wilson is happy. I _asked_ Pete to come and stay with me."
"Pete, maybe you aren't 'good' with the situation after all. Do you feel that you've been dragged into something you didn't want to get involved in?"
(A few weeks ago that would have been true. He'd felt imposed on, manipulated. Now, he wouldn't leave even if Lisa begged him to.)
"Nope," he answered thoughtfully. Feeling Staines's gaze on him, he added, "That's my 'normal' behaviour. But Lisa has seen so little of me the past five years that she has forgotten what it's like."
"I certainly haven't!" Lisa protested. "Yes, it's your default behaviour - when you're bored or when you're trying to prove a point. You're not bored at the moment - your brain is working overtime to manipulate Wilson into getting treatment - so that only leaves 'proving a point'." |
7cda75fc302d4bac8e9452edd8c04baa | ['7fba7f995e844a6eaeac0f4772771ee7'] | Just then the food was brought out, serving first the king then everyone else. Robb played the perfect gentleman, offering Myrcella the best cuts of meat which he sliced off with his own dagger and offering her the best dishes from the kitchens. The food was completely different to the south, which had light airy meals rich with spice compared to the heavy meals of the North. Myrcella found the food a pleasant surprise and a welcome change. During the 5th course which consisted of lemon cakes, to Sansa’s delight Myrcella observed, she wondered if there would be dancing later. She had spied some singers from her vantage point on the top table, so in her eyes, there must be dancing! Myrcella loved to dance but never got to do much down in the capital due to her mother. Cersei believed that she couldn’t dance with anyone unless she was betrothed and only then could she dance with him. Myrcella often practised on her own in her room, without the knowledge of her mother, with Renly who was always willing to dance with his golden girl. She had practised often when she found out they were going to Winterfell, as she wanted to impress the Northerners to prove she wasn’t just a pretty little girl whose head was filled with stories of Jonquil and Florian, who did needlework day in and day out. She wanted to shock the Northerners. Myrcella wanted to prove that she was headstrong woman, independent from her mother who can do what she like. After the last course was served and finished, one of the singers came forth and began to play his harp. Her father had offered his hand to Lady Catelyn, who accepted with a smile on her face and rose gracefully from her seat. That left Lord Eddard to lead her mother to the middle of the floor. Myrcella could see her mother visibly grimace and she grudgingly accepted the Lord of Winterfell’s hands. She watched as the royal family danced with the Starks. It was custom for the first dance just to be the four of them, and as the song came to end she saw other couples begin to rise from the seats. When the song had finished everyone clapped and others began to swoop down onto the floor. The queen had returned to her seat along with the Lord and Lady of Winterfell. Her father had disappeared into the crowds below the top table, probably to find some serving wench thought Myrcella bitterly. That’s when she heard a cough.
“Um- my princess? D-do you want. I-I mean w-would you honour me-” stuttered Robb, sounding completely flustered. She looked up to see a flush creeping up his neck and she smirked.
“Your princess? Of course I will honour you with a dance!” she exclaimed, practically bounding out of her seat and grabbed his hand.
Robb’s eyes widened as he was dragged onto the dance floor by a bundle of energy. Then he grinned, realising who he was about to dance with. Her green eyes sparkled as they stood in position, and the music started up. The Bear and the Maiden Fair. Everyone dancing spun and twirled around the dance floor. Robb remarked that though Myrcella wasn’t the best dancer but her enthusiasm made it so. She had stood on his toes and he had been hit in the eye by a loose bit of hair. He couldn’t help but laugh along with her as he spun her round for the last time. The song had ended and bowed deeply to Myrcella. The whole hall had burst into cat-calling, clapping and crude humour. Myrcella was flushed, a pretty pink on her cheeks. Her hair was spilling out of its braid, unruly gold curls falling down her back and her emerald eyes shone with excitement. His felt his throat close up as Myrcella continued to dance. She was dancing with Theon, he felt a pang jealousy spread through him like wildfire. Every time his hands landed on her small waist he couldn’t help but want to hurt Theon. However he did appreciate the view now, admiring her perfectly formed body as she twisted and turned. Her laugh was melodious and contagious. He couldn’t help but grin whenever she laughed. The song had changed again and now she was dancing with Bran and Rickon.
“You know, she’s never been this free in all her life.” A voice behind him said. Robb turned with a tankard in his hands to face a Robert Baratheon look alike. A second longer staring made him realise that this was not Robert but his younger brother Renly, Myrcella’s uncle.
“W-what, really? She seems at home on the floor” replied Robb.
“I’ve been teaching her. Cersei wouldn’t allow her daughter to be taught so I took it upon myself to teach her. I mean a highborn, especially a royal princess, being unable to dance? Unheard of. Especially coming to Winterfell, she seemed even more determined to dance.” Renly laughed, watching Myrcella, Bran and Rickon collapse in a heap on the floor. Robb followed his eye line and began to laugh before rushing over to help her up.
“Princess?” queried Robb, looking down on her with his hand stretched down. She flushed, embarrassed that she was in the position that she was. Tonight she vowed that she wouldn’t make herself look a fool in front of Robb, yet she had. Cursing inwardly, Myrcella took his hand and allowed Robb to help her up.
“Thank you, my lord. I fear your brothers were a little enthusiastic.” She told him, looking down at her feet.
“Well, they’re never allowed to stay up this late so they may be more than a little excited,” he said knowingly. “Another dance, princess?” | d112c9b8fcab4f41adb79ddb9136d71a | ['7fba7f995e844a6eaeac0f4772771ee7'] |
1. Concerning dwarves
You paced the room, tossing your hair over your shoulders. When was he going to get back? You wondered. He had promised that he would be back by 11, but you know you could never trust his word. He was unreliable and you hated him for it. You were fed up of waiting, so you stopped pacing and flopped onto the sofa. You felt yourself involuntary curling up into a sleeping position, feeling your eyes drooping.
Thorin was late. Very late. He hurried from the party as soon as he could, cursing, knowing how angry you were going to be when he got back. He even considered staying so he didn’t feel your wrath when he got back, however he decided against that. When Thorin saw the house looming ahead he broke out into a jog. He reached the door and opened ever so quietly, knowing you’d be awake and therefore you would leave the door unopened. He was expecting you to come flying at him, raging and cursing as soon as he stepped into the house. He was, however, not expecting to find you curled up on the sofa, in a too-big jumper that was probably his and bare legs, sleeping peacefully with your legs over one arm of the sofa, your head on the other.
He stood in the doorway admiring you. Your c/l hair was spilling over your shoulder and onto your face. He could see the way you rose and fell with each breath, with a tiny snore that made him smile uncontrollably, and the hair on your face fluttering every time you did so. The smooth skin of your legs was begging to be touched, but you looked so innocent he couldn’t spoil the moment. He gently stepped into the room, slipping off his shoes as he did so and placing them by the front door. He tiptoed into the room as quietly as he could and made his way over to you. He knelt down in front of, softly brushing your hair out of your face. You murmured something and slowly began to open your eyes.
As you opened your eyes, you saw the blurry figure in front of you. You blinked a few times before realising it was Thorin. That bastard, you cursed inwardly, but somehow you couldn’t be angry at him and so one of your hands stretched out and gently stroked the side of his face. You could feel him sigh when your hand made contact and you smirked slightly.
Thorin looked at you in the eyes before leaning in and placing a chaste kiss on your lips wiping that smirk off your face, something that made him smile. He broke away, and stood up. He swept you up into his strong arms bridal style and you couldn’t help but bury your head into his neck, breathing in his scent. Thorin took you into your room and gently laid you on the bed. He sat at the end of the bed and unlaced his boots before joining you on the bed. You snuggle under the covers, giggling slightly as he joined you. You move closer to him and snuggle into his chest. You feel his broad arms encircling you and you thought how could you even been mad with him? You smiled and felt your eyes droop for the second time that night.
2. When will I see you again?
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Modern AU where Thorin is in the army
This was not the first time Thorin had left you nor would it be the last. Every time he left you were an emotional wreck and you anxiously counted down the days until he was scheduled to come back. Being in the army meant Thorin was sent away for months at a time and every time you were unsure whether he would come back to you. How, after all this time you managed to cope without him was beyond both of you but this time would be different. He would be gone for six months. When he had told you this, you had bit your lip nervously and tears began to well in your eyes. Now you were waving him goodbye, smiling through your tears. How you were going to cope this time around you had no idea.
A month had gone by when you realised that you never told him. It had been on the tip of your tongue the night before and when he was about to leave. You wanted to tell him now, but you knew that you couldn’t put into a letter. You groaned and clutched to the toilet seat as a wave of nausea trembled through your body, knowing if he was there he’d be rubbing your back and holding your hair. Instead you were on your own, with the occasional visit from Dis and her sons. Not that you minded, you often looked after them when they were younger and you loved them so much. But you hadn’t told them either, none of them knew. Once the nausea passed you washed your face and brushed your teeth and cried. Why had you never told him? You thought stupidly when you heard a knock at the door. You sighed and wiped the tears from your face not caring that you looked a mess. You opened the door and saw Dis beaming until she saw your face.
“What is it? What’s wrong? Is it Thorin? Gods, tell me what’s wrong?” she asked worriedly, pain etched into her face as she hurried you back into the house.
“It’s nothing, it’s something stupid. It doesn’t matter.” You muttered, as you sat down on the sofa.
“It’s something and you will tell me.” She demanded. You looked at her with red-rimmed eyes and pale face.
“I’m… I-I, um, I’m pregnant,” You stuttered, looking down at your hands on your knees. “And, I, uh… never told Thorin I was.” |
7ee3c7c9ac954a7b8595832054e2d478 | ['7fc1bba1ac2f4f9aae0065a8716ccb2f'] | Moash accepted the towel Kaladin handed him and took his position by the sink. And maybe Kaladin was just hyper aware of the other man’s presence, but he could swear he could feel the heat of Moash’s body next to his own. Every so often, their arms would brush, or their shoulders, and near the end of it Kaladin felt a little jittery.
“Thanks,” he managed to say, as he put away the last dish.
“Yeah, no problem.”
As Kaladin turned back around, Moash looked up at him and paused, an odd expression on his face like he was considering something or maybe steeling himself. Then, slowly, he reached up to swipe a thumb across Kaladin’s cheek, the touch gentle but undeniable. Kaladin’s skin tingled under the contact and his breath caught in his throat as he stared wide-eyed at the other man, like a deer caught in headlights. This was the first time anyone had touched him like that since Adam—Relis had certainly never been gentle or affectionate—and the touch triggered memories that made his heart race. Was Moash...interested in him that way?
“You had some soap suds on your face.”
“Oh...” Kaladin cleared his throat, wishing the floor would open beneath him and swallow him up. “Uh, thanks.” He tried not to feel disappointed and failed miserably.
Moash’s crooked smile was amused but warm, eyes roaming over Kaladin’s (definitely red) face for a long moment, which didn’t help Kaladin’s heart rate one bit.
But then Kaladin blinked and Moash stepped away. (When had he gotten so close?)
“So, movie?” Moash asked.
“Yeah.” Kaladin took a breath to recover from whatever that moment was. “Yeah. I picked last time, so go ahead. I don’t have as big of a selection, though.”
“That’s okay.”
Moash quickly picked a movie and Kaladin popped it into his $9 DVD player, then they settled down on the couch. The other man looked just as comfortable here as he had in his own apartment, affecting the same lazy sprawl.
Just before Kaladin pressed play, Syl flew over and landed on his shoulder, furthest from Moash.
“Woah, is that a bird?”
Kaladin smiled down at the little bluebird. “Yeah, this is Syl, short for Sylphrena.” He prompted her to stand on his finger and she obliged with a soft chirp. “Syl, this is Moash.” He brought her a little closer to the other man so he could get a better look.
“Hey, there, cutie.”
Moash reached forward, index finger extended to stroke at Syl’s chest. She cocked her head to the side, watching the finger approach, and as soon as he touched her, she puffed up her feathers and viciously nipped at the offending digit.
“Ow!”
“Syl!”
The bird gave an angry chirp and flew off into the bedroom. Kaladin watched her leave, bewildered to say the least—Syl was always so good natured—then he turned back to Moash.
“I’m so sorry.” He took Moash’s hand in his to inspect it for broken skin—Kaladin would have been mortified if this visit turned into another doctor/patient session—but he found no serious injury. At least it was Moash’s good hand that she’d bit. “I swear she’s never done that before.”
“’s okay. Just glad she didn’t peck my eyes out. I kinda like them.”
Kaladin laughed. “Me too.” Then he froze, realizing what he’d said. “But not—not like that. Um.” He coughed and dropped the other man’s hand. “Movie.”
Moash smirked at him, eyes bright, so Kaladin mashed the play button and stared at the screen—far more intently than anyone should stare at opening credits. Out of the corner of his eye, Kaladin could see Moash still watching him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look back. He kicked himself internally; his comment had been stupid, but he should have just played it off and it wouldn’t have been a big deal.
After a long moment, the other man turned his head away and Kaladin was finally able to relax. Hopefully, they’d both forget all about this. (But Kaladin had never been much of an optimist.)
He forced himself to pay attention to what was on the screen and realized Moash had picked one of his favorites. The movie was more serious than the one they’d watched before, so they didn’t talk through it like they had the last one. Once it was over, though, they discussed what the movie might mean, the motivations of some characters, and the reason for certain scenes or lines. They had differing views on the morality of the main antagonist, but both agreed his actions were pivotal to the later events of the movie. He was important, whether you liked him or not.
It felt good to debate like this. Kaladin wasn’t really able to discuss anything deeply with the other Bridge men. They were good people, but they didn’t care about this sort of thing, preferring jokes over intellectual discussions. Yet, he and Moash ended up talking for another two hours until Kaladin eventually—and reluctantly—had to call it a night.
“Sorry to cut it short like this,” he said as Moash put his shoes on by the door. “If I didn’t have class so early in the morning....”
“Nah, don’t sweat it. This was fun. My place, next time, yeah?”
Kaladin smiled, glad Moash didn’t feel put out. “Sounds good.”
And if Moash lingered for a moment in the doorway, hazel eyes tracing Kaladin’s face and settling on his mouth, well, Kaladin was sure he’d imagined it.
**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**
Over the next couple of months, Kaladin settled into his routine of working forty hours, studying twenty hours (if not more), and attending thirty hours of class. He didn’t have much time for sleep, much less anything else, but finals were in two weeks. After that, he’d be able to breathe. | fa11690583d24751a315b2544fcf599c | ['7fc1bba1ac2f4f9aae0065a8716ccb2f'] | Syl “helped” from a swing hung from the ceiling (Kaladin had installed it just the day before and she was obsessed with the novelty), dancing from one end to the other and twittering happily to herself. He glanced over at her from time to time and smiled to see her joy. Now that the weather was cooler, he often propped the windows open while he was home to let her come and go as she pleased. (At first, he had worried she would disappear again, but the bluebird had not yet failed to come back each day and he’d had to remind himself to trust her.)
The television was on low in the background, mostly just to provide a bit of white noise to help him concentrate. But as the reporter began speaking of the election results, Kaladin grabbed the remote to turn up the volume.
_“...by a landslide, Jasnah Kholin wins the presidency.”_
For a moment, Kaladin thought of Moash. How would he react to the news of another Kholin in the office? Although, it had seemed he’d only hated Elhokar specifically.... Either way, a wave of relief washed over Kaladin. With Elhokar soon to exit the position, surely Moash and his group would abandon their plans of assassination. What would be the point? It was like a weight had been lifted from Kaladin’s shoulders; he no longer had to worry that he’d see something in the news about Elhokar’s untimely death. He no longer had to fear that Moash was out there somewhere, hurting someone.
With that thought, Kaladin turned the volume down again and went back to his paper.
**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**
New Year’s Eve was one of the busiest nights at the Bridge. Since his classes had ended in early December, Kaladin had picked up as many shifts as possible, including New Year’s because it often meant a lot of overtime pay.
As they did every year, the Bridge men (on shift was Kaladin, Teft, Skar, and Sigzil) closed the kitchen at one o’clock in the morning (though the bar would stay open for another hour) and got to work doing a deep clean of all of the equipment, literally scrubbing the kitchen from top to bottom. It was grueling work and lasted them until the sun came up at six. In just a few hours, the next shift would begin to open the restaurant again, but as for the four of them, they said their goodbyes and dragged themselves home.
When Kaladin stepped off the bus an hour later, he figured he might as well get his mail while he was out, seeing as he'd forgotten to pick it up the day before. It was only a short detour, and he looked through the envelopes in his hands as he took the stairs up to his apartment. Most of it was junk mail, but one item stood out; a postcard with a picture of the Alethkar Palace. Odd. He didn’t know anyone who had been travelling lately—certainly no one who would have bothered to send him a postcard. He unlocked his door absentmindedly and flipped the postcard over to read the back.
The rest of his mail fell to the floor as he took in the familiar scrawl with dread. “No.”
The note was short and seemingly innocent: _Happy New Year, babe_. But Kaladin knew what the message meant.
He couldn’t get to the remote fast enough, pressing too many buttons at once in his haste to turn on the television. Once the picture faded into view, he didn’t have to bother finding the right channel; they were all showing the same thing.
Elhokar Kholin was dead. |
f23722e7f72c44e3bd0410af92fee84c | ['7fc1bc8c98004705a0cc9cad61d86237'] |
Find Me Here
Sid throws on a pair of old jeans, a clean shirt and his nylon zip up to combat the warm July evening. He blows out a long breath and tugs on his cap, strays of jet black hair sticking out this way and that. He’s due for a trim.
Sid’s meeting the boys at Beerhead tonight; Nate had been texting him all day – _don’t be a fucking flake_ was the latest. Outings are still a rarity for Sid. When he was a teenager, a gnawing anxiety would seep into his bones when people got too close – too intimate. Sid’s body would become taut; his insides would swell with nervous energy, catapulting into overdrive.
These days, Sid still liked to keep to himself and there was nothing particularly wrong with that, he thought. He was private, he was a little guarded – _“You’re shutting the world out”_ Jack had objected; the arrant sincerity of it had felt like a kick in the teeth.
Sid grabs the keys to his Range Rover and heads out the front door.
Somehow, it seemed appropriate that it started to rain lightly just then, fine drops hissing into the foliage.
_____
Sid canvasses the dimly lit space, swears he can already hear Nate’s rambunctious howls; he lets the sound lead the way through the humid pub. He spots their table a few feet from the busy bar, where bodies are huddled across the marble island. Pitchers of beer and half-drunken glasses litter every surface.
“Sid!” Jack shouts, waving him over. The man beside him, whom Sid doesn’t recognize, follows Jack’s line of sight; his amber eyes meet Sid’s.
Copper waves stick out in tufts beneath his crisp white cap, flicked backwards. His grey, short-sleeved V neck dips low, accentuating the strut of his collarbone. A thin, silver chain adorns his neck, tucked underneath the grey fabric. His eyes are soft, his skin tan.
He embraces Sid with a thousand watt smile and a set of perfect teeth.
“Claude” he says, boldly, extending his arm over the table.
The movement stresses the hard lines of his bicep, a sliver of his tattoo peaks out beneath his bunched sleeve – his chain gleams under the dull pot light.
Sid swallows, letting a fit of dizziness pass.
He extends his own arm in greeting: “Sid. Nice to meet you.”
Their hands clasp and Sid feels the wet condensation from Claude’s beer bottle across his palm.
“Hey, Jack” Sid manages as he pulls up a chair across from them.
“I was just telling G here that we’re truly in the presence of a miracle” Jack teases, gesturing towards Sid with both hands.
“Shut up” Sid retorts. He tips his hat to the other guys – all buzzed and crimson-faced.
After a beat, he looks back at Claude. His arm is draped across the back of Jack’s chair, his shoulders leaning back, exuding a nonchalance that was all at once mischievous and – _sexy._ His chest vibrates with laughter at Nate, who’s scrubbing melted cheese off the hem of his shirt.
He turns his attention to Sid, face aglow under the warm light as he leans in, “So, you uh, work with Jack?”
“Nah, our boy’s a plumbing inspector” Jack chimes in, eyes glued to his phone.
“You fancy, huh?” Claude jokes, voice like velvet.
“Definitely not” Sid answers. Claude gives him a smile and Sid loses his train of thought. He takes a gulp of his beer and gracelessly clumps the tumbler onto the table. Claude‘s gaze is still a fixture; Sid fidgets with his worn cap.
“Izzy – my little sister – had her heart set on becoming a plumber when we were growing up” Claude says, eyes crinkling with fondness. “She ended up becoming a vet.”
Sid nods, “That’s awesome. What uh – what about you?”
“Office drone” Claude replies, the bow of his lips curved into a joyless smile.
“Well, you can quit your job” Sid tells him, “and uh – help me decide whether pressure assist toilets are the way to go, or the ever popular, gravity toilets.”
Claude shakes his head, his body bubbling with laughter again. Sid melts.
They continue to chat as Sid watches Claude’s face work with enthusiasm around those dark, shining eyes. Sid learns that he’s French Canadian, that he was born and raised in Ontario, that the nondescript _G_ stands for Giroux.
“Nah, summer’s the best, man” Claude says. “Goin’ out, lazin’ on the beach, enjoying the heat,” he raises his empty bottle – “Gettin’ crunk.”
“Nope” Sid says resolutely. “Nothing beats the snow.” He’s loved it since he was a kid; it never failed to wipe the slate of Sid’s world clean.
“Well, you hang with me sometime and I’ll change your mind” Claude counters.
“I – ” Sid blushes, looking down at his lap. He doesn’t finish the sentence – his heart’s too busy palpitating. His skin prickles as microscopic beads of sweat bristle to the top of every pore; a rush of adrenaline courses through him like lightning, prompting stupidity – like reaching out to touch Claude’s sun-kissed skin, like tossing his cap off and raking his fingers through those locks.
Sid’s hands curl into fists. _Christ._
Just then Jack made his way back to their table, which – Sid doesn’t even remember him leaving.
“I should get going” Claude says, “Physio’s early tomorrow.” He bumps fists with Jack and turns to Sid, a shock of auburn hair juts out above his cap‘s Velcro strap, “It was nice meeting you, Sid. I had a great time.”
“Me too” whispers Sid.
Just as a brazen proposal is about to leave Sid’s mouth, Claude‘s palms grip and push the sides of his chair. He rolls back. Sid’s breath catches – _Claude’s in a wheelchair._ | 59b91d633d6341b9988acf5e9b2c77f5 | ['7fc1bc8c98004705a0cc9cad61d86237'] | “Everyone asleep?’ Claude asks. He knows he shouldn’t be here. Knows the world of trouble Sid will get into if his parents catch him here – _in Sid’s fucking bed_ – but Claude can’t bring himself to care; to give a fuck. Not anymore. The festering guilt was gone. His mind feels like an engine most days – one that turns over and over, never kicking into action. Other days it’s like heels striking dirt, without the flesh that’s supposed to cushion the blow. There was no way out of this _hurt_ ; it was bonded to his skin, seeping out in acts of haste. He would never let Sid know.
He’s leaving in three days.
Sid nods. “Mom and Dad will be gone in the morning.”
They were visiting Sid’s aunt in Hamilton for the day, an hour’s drive. They’d be back in the evening. Sid and Claude had plans to go to Wonderland tomorrow; at least it was one less lie Sid would need to tell.
The back of Claude’s shins hit the frame of the bed; Sid tips him over, promptly climbing on top and into his lap. “We had pizza. I saved you some” Sid says, pointing to Claude’s left – a wooden cabinet stands alone, cherry red, with a glass plate atop it, its contents bound in aluminum foil. “Just warmed it up.”
_“Angel”_ Claude says, planting a fleeting kiss to Sid’s cheek, just as Sid reaches behind him for the plate, uncovering it. Warm, enticing scents come floating down, kick-starting a rumble in Claude’s stomach. The pizza was thin crust, with olives, feta cheese, tomato, and _sausage_ – Claude’s favourite. He licks his lips.
“Ah” Sid whispers, mouth hanging open as he mimes the words.
Claude laughs, tipping his face upward and parting his lips – stretching them wide enough to swallow the room; he ends up chomping down on air as Sid withdraws his hand at the last second. He cackles, grin lopsided, as Claude pinches his wrist, hushing him with a kiss. “You little _shit disturber_.”
It would always be like this: silly, playful – _fragile_. Sid continues to snicker; his face half-lit by shadow, those dimples crinkling the skin near his lips. “Come on, _stop_ ” Claude says, “your Dad’s gonna bust in here with a chainsaw.”
“Okay, okay” Sid says, settling down.
He does it again, and _again –_ cajoling Claude with that same devious tilt of his mouth – until Claude learns his lesson and wrestles the slice out of Sid’s hand, grease lining his palms.
“You tired?” Claude asks, some twenty minutes later; he twists around, quietly placing the dinner plate back up on the dresser. It’s full of half-eaten crusts. “Bed?”
Sid peers up at him, golden eyes full of mischief and spark. Bright as the moon; his chin’s propped on Claude’s chest. He shakes his head, eyeing him up and down, worrying his bottom lip. _Jesus._ Claude straightens up immediately. “Sid, _no_. You’re gonna get way too fuckin’ loud.”
“I’ll stay quiet.”
“ _Sid._ ”
Sid flouts him, pushing him back down, wheedling Claude out of his hoodie; his bare torso’s beneath – the skin pale, belly soft and swollen from the pizza. Sid tugs the fabric up.
Claude’s chain’s suddenly knotted in his hair, the strands sticking together – a wash overdue. “M’sorry” Sid says, gently untangling it before he pulls the material up and over Claude’s ruffled head. He runs his fingertips along the thread of silver, setting the pendant against the curve of Claude’s collarbone. And Claude – his head’s already spinning, body aching underneath Sid’s. _No one else would ever come close_. “I won’t make a sound” he says, softly. Claude folds, eyelids locked. He feels the slip of Sid’s nose across his own, a steady rush in his ears, like beating wings – just before their mouths meet.
“I _love_ the sounds you make” Claude murmurs back, absently.
_____
Sid rocks in the warmth of his lap – soaking up Claude’s size, and _his_ _strength_ ; his mouth’s latched to Claude’s neck, scraping his teeth against the blushed skin; holding all the noises safe inside. It’s slow and rhythmic, the pleasure ripe and piercing. Claude’s buried deep – _so fucking deep_ he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to pull out.
Sid clings to him, the nails of one hand digging into his back – his mouth breathing all over Claude’s skin. “ _I love you inside me_ ” Sid says, clenching down on the girth of him, _again and again_. Claude’s eyes slip closed, lost in the sensation – thoughts ready to splinter. Sex with Sid was like a cup overflowing. Claude wants to drown in him, wants to burrow into his _skin_ – carve out a space, maybe live there. He wants to return the words, but he’s afraid that his voice will break. Afraid that Sid will hear just how much it all hurts. _Fuck it._ “I was made for you.” The words spill out; heart worn and hollowed.
He was barely out of his fucking teens – where did he learn to feel _this much?_
When Sid crests, it’s in the form of a muffled cry against Claude’s stubble – the pleasure shooting through his body, and out his throat. “Lemme taste it” Claude says, tone swathed in lust – thoughts soft and slush-like; his blood beats low and hard in his belly. “ _C’mon”_ he urges. Sid squirms against him, _flustered_ \- cheeks overspread with a deep blush. Claude fucking loves it.
Sid lifts a hand as Claude parts his mouth, arousal rippling through his bones, tongue slipping out to swipe at the pad of Sid’s thumb; it’s briny, and a little bitter – made sweet by Sid’s mouth.
Claude lays him down afterward, easing out – despite Sid’s protests. “Wait, no. _Don’t!_ ”
“Shh, it’s okay” Claude soothes, inching all the way out. |
4be9952cd767459a82bd4e4d38255429 | ['7fc2a71b31404cc7a4c57e888de0d269'] | Never Say Never
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
* Inspired by LINK by LINK.
> I was quite inspired by Pet Play and fell in love with Axton/Handsome Jack, I can't think about Borderlands without those two in mind. Props to AshesTheTerrible for inspiring me. ♥
There's a lot of misconception about being a Hero. Some say it's a person with noble qualities and has done brave deeds, a distinguished man among others. Some say a hero is a person that despite its character flaws, performs a heroic act being regarded as a role model. To Axton, however, those lines were blurred beyond comprehension. Being in the military is no easy accomplishment. The atrocities made and watched, the immorality camouflaged as the army code, the status quo of being a killing machine being told to ignore everything you've learn and getting used to the brutality of the armed force. To most people, they were heroes. Axton would simply shrug it off every time someone would bring it up, uninterested in the definition of that word.
He knew better than to think he was a goddamn hero.
He did it for his own personal glory, the adrenaline, the power within being a pawn for greater purposes. The thrill of the blood in your hands, surviving in a literal make or die moment. He was his own person, selfish and ever so maniac about his means to kill. So when he was forced to go AWOL because of his arrogance in various missions, it didn’t matter. Axton had the training, the skills and the experience to back up his new Mercenary career. Wasn’t that bad to hunt bounties around. The only thing he missed was the thrill of an actual challenge.
That is… until he heard of the Vault in Pandora. It peaked his interest when he was at a bar in Hieronymous, right as he was making preparations to leave his home planet. A hidden vault to be found, filled with the most unimaginable riches and who knows what else. If only he had ignored those rumors, if he only knew back then about the predicaments that would soon follow to that incisive decision.
If he only knew back then about how Handsome Jack would change his life. | 67440980aab84e92aed53ec12655d871 | ['7fc2a71b31404cc7a4c57e888de0d269'] | "That's... a good... look on you, pumpkin. Look at you, all bloody getting your hands dirty on Handsome Jack. Gimme your best, kiddo."
He thinks there wasn't enough anger or hatred that could stop him right now, a darkness inside branching on his insides strenuously. A growl reverberates in his chest, the pain tearing him apart piece by piece as sanity evaded him. However, this was Rhys – he never managed to not fuck up a single thing in his life, whether by weakness or pure stupidity. A voice on the back of his head said to tear the other man's throat apart, the other one desperately pleaded for him to stop. He wasn't Jack, he didn't want to be like Jack.
"Aha, this is golden, cupcake. Getting a little too excited over there, huh?" Jack pointedly glanced over Rhys' lower parts, very obviously referring to the growing hard-on in his pants.
There was a brief moment of confusion where the company man looked down at his trousers, only to have his eyes widen at his own reaction.
His hands trembling, Rhys flung himself backwards away from Jack, almost afraid of what happened. He is only human, he thinks, only a human. Capable of doing terrible things the voice added, capable of being just like Handsome Jack. It was unhealthy, wrong, filthy. Rhys was the spitting image of what they expected after all for the Hyperion CEO position.
It was just wrong, he didn't feel like himself.
And to find himself reacting so eagerly to his own actions made Rhys want the floor to swallow him up.
"I don't blame you, the exhilarating feeling of someone's blood flowing under your hands, the power from being this..." Jack crawls towards the cyborg man, predatory eyes on him never breaking contact and an absolute madness glinting in his heterochromatic eyes. "... close to crushing their windpipes. You think to yourself, how have you not done this before and from there, Rhysie, there's only pure joy in murdering people."
"No, no, no... you're crazy. You... you are crazy."
"Am I now, Rhysie? Because from what I can see down your pants, there's only joy going full commando here."
"This is... I'm not..." Rhys was suddenly flustered, cheeks sharing the same tint as his bloodied hands, his confusion and anger mixing into what Jack thinks is the most perfect thing he ever laid eyes upon.
Rhys feels like a wide open book, extremely vulnerable when Jack closes the distance between them. Considering the proximity he’s sharing with the other man, his mind goes wild with the possibilities. Could he really be getting off from nearly killing Jack? No, his brain must’ve gotten mixed signals from his body, after all he always lusted after the CEO. All of those motivational posters on the wall of his room, so many long nights hoping that one day his fantasies would come true. Rhys couldn’t deny that his obsession with Jack had everything to do with the party going on inside his boxers, but at the same time the pent-up frustration was slowly turning into anger and... something else. With his metal arm, he grabs the back of Jack’s neck and pulls him in aggressively. "You... you make me feel... so goddamn... angry. At myself. But mostly at you."
"Oh yeah, kitten? And what exactly are you gonna do about it?"
Instead of answering Rhys pushes his mouth to Jack's into a kiss that's essentially just teeth. It's not tender, it's not slow and definitely, not something Jack should be amused at – but apparently the display of aggression just earned Rhys a ticket to what seemed like an overriding sexual drive. This isn't the right thing to do. Rhys doesn't wanna do the right thing now, he wants to ravage the older man against him and make him eat his words. He feels guilty again about even thinking that he actually enjoyed trying to beat the shit out of Jack. Doesn't stop Rhys from tearing every layer of clothing from Jack's chest, ripping a few seams in the process. He hums appreciatively at the muscles tensing ever so slightly under his touch, a curious look in his face when he fondles the scars all over his torso. Rhys is surprised the scars remain even in a cloned body, but he suspects Jack is proud of each and every one of them.
“I would _ love _ to keep this makeout session vanilla, but pumpkin, we have _ harder _ things to delve into. If you catch my drift.”
Jack licks his lips in a sensual way that makes Rhys tremble in anticipation. Unexpectedly, the older man switches position with Rhys, tired of the power play going on between them. As big and manly hands pull out Rhys' shirt up, exploring his chest with not so gentle touches, the young man releases a small whimper.
Jack leans forward against Rhys, his crushing weight pressing the other against the floor and his breathing suddenly sounding ragged and torn. His exhales came out as heavy pants against his neck as he bites down and begins to leave a rouge trail among the tattoos, each hickey blossoming from the pale skin as a godly gift. When Rhys’s mind catches up with him, the same burn of arousal hits him and suddenly they're eager – too eager – to get their hands on each other, hands grappling at each other .
When Jack presses his leg between Rhys' a spark of lust goes up their spines, the amount of clothing between them nothing but one step closer to where things start to get interesting. Belts clink on the floor and Jack wastes no time in getting their pants off as fast as he can. |
8aa606648f37414c969737add44d2e51 | ['7fe0bf63bf0c4a018e56c8da4c52734f'] | Yakov stares at him in silence, brow furrowed angrily, for the entire period it takes for Viktor’s breath to return to normal. And then, with the shout that he passed off as his normal voice he gruffly expressed his willingness to have the meeting with Viktor. “Only because it’s your final year and its important! Lilia would have my neck if I didn’t make sure her future principal was well looked after.”
Viktor turned on a charming grin, ignoring the way the man’s scowl only deepened, and thanked him for his time.
The meeting was much like any other beginning of the year meeting. They discussed what Viktor wanted from the school this year, and how he would approach it. They talked about whether he wanted to do any solo pieces or focus exclusively on duets. What he would do during the winter show, the spring showcase and the summer performances. They talked about how he did in his classes last term, and how he could do better (Viktor couldn’t believe Yakov managed to say so many points for someone that was the unspoken best of his class but the man went on about all the ways Viktor could improve until Viktor almost wondered if watching paint dry might be more fulfilling).
And then the meeting changed slightly. “Where do you want to go Viktor? When you’re done with this place?”
The words made Viktor feel cold. ‘This place’ had been home to him for two years now – not that long a period maybe, but long enough that it was somewhere he felt safe. All his friends were from the ballet school. The rare ones that were not were people who had either passed through it and moved onto other things, such as his friend Chris who after a year had decided ballet wasn’t his everything the way it needed to be to dedicate a life to it, and begun a course in psychology, citing his experience as ‘years of working with people closer to a mental breakdown than most others’. Viktor knew what he wanted out of the future – to be a principal somewhere amazingly prestigious, and spend as many years as his body would hold up performing – and he knew how he would get it – by acquiring a contract with a ballet company and working his way up – but he didn’t, in his heart of hearts, feel ready to let go of the school he had come to love. He managed to get out the response he knew Yakov wanted to hear, about going to the best ballet company willing to take him on, and in his heart, he knew it was what he wanted.
But as he thought of those warm brown eyes and the warmth he had felt in his heart for the first time in a while he couldn’t help but wonder if that was all he wanted anymore.
2. 2
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Some lowkey angsty self reflection coupled with those wholesome friendship vibes!
Walking home in the dark, after the long day of practice that had followed his meeting with Yakov, Viktor felt heavy. It should be so easy. It should feel like the beginning of his new life, he should have been ready to embrace the future. But for some reason he wasn’t. He loved ballet, he knew that, could never deny that or doubt it – but for some reason, ‘some reason,’ unknown and undefined, he wasn’t looking forward to his future. From the moment he was starting to go somewhere with ballet joining a company and living the dance had been his dream, and now as he spiraled closer and closer to that dream, well… It felt more like going down the drain than just around the river bend. He wasn’t sure what it was – maybe it was that he was meant to be thinking about his future, and evolving into the dancer, the artist, that so many people expected him to be, but whenever he thought of his future he felt… stuck. It had been like this when he was applying for a ballet school after he had finally done enough of school to be able to pursue it full time. He had felt as though he couldn’t continue to grow at the ridiculous rates he loved to push himself to if he stayed in Russia. He had to know more, to learn more, to do more, and for that more to be something different and new. And so he had come to London, and he had applied himself more than all the people who knew him as self-centered and forgetful could have ever expected him to. And he had grown. At a rate that terrified and amazed in equal measure.
He had to keep growing.
He had to keep going.
But he wasn’t sure how to. It felt as though the straight forwardness of the path to his dreams was suddenly off putting, the ease of it making it somehow less than the paths less traveled. He wanted it – god he wanted it, to be a principal someday – but he didn’t want to reach that by doing the same old thing everyone else did.
It was with that in mind that he began to work out what he would do for the winter showcase. It had to be something new, something unlike that which he was used to. He had to rediscover the difficulty of growing, and the pleasure that hard earned success brought him, by doing something totally new. Totally new, however, wasn’t as easy as simply wanting to do it. It required inspiration. Motivation. He had motivation in spades but this rut, not a rut by the usual standards as he wouldn’t let his ballet quality slip for anything, but for him, a rut in creativity and the desperate passion he was known for, this rut was one born on a lack of inspiration. | a3aa78a56b2147e4b91216fe4f56453d | ['7fe0bf63bf0c4a018e56c8da4c52734f'] | Eventually Otabek began to slow down. He had either left the city entirely or found a mysterious patch of green space in the middle of the buildings. It looked like a bunch of wide open fields with a river running through it and trees growing dense on most of the sides. There was a little cobblestone path leading into it from an open gate.
As Otabek put his foot down and turned off the bikes power he asked “do you want to go for a walk?” And Yuri nodded in the dim night time lighting.
Otabek got off the bike first, and held out a hand to help Yuri get down as if it was a far jump. Yuri still took the hand. But only because he didn't want to be rude. Not because he wanted to hold hands with this guy or anything like that. After that ride? No, he definitely didn't want to hold his hand. He wanted to make out with him against a tree. Hand holding seemed a little distant from that. But as he shook out legs that were ever so slightly wobbly and let Otabek guide him towards the gates he couldn't help but enjoy that spot of hand holding regardless.
They walked along the path and through the moonlit park, hand in hand, for an indefinite amount of time. Something about the isolated open space and the softness of the rare streetlamps made Yuri feel something like free. Otabek’s jacket was big and warm on his body as he talked about ice skating, and the pressure of it, the way it wracked at his nerves oh so relentlessly. He talked about why he skated – for himself, maybe, but for his family as well. For his country. For expectations he wasn’t sure anyone but himself held him to. He told him about his grandfather having basically raised him, his mother busy being a star, and how ice skating gave him more of a family than he had ever really thought he could have. In return Otabek told him about his little sister, and his mother and how he adored them. He spoke about his confusion when it came to religion, and how dubious people had been when he had insisted he could make DJ’ing a career.
Yuri told him he had never been on a date this lovely.
“Oh, so this is a date then?” Said Otabek, a slight smirk lifting the corner of his lips. He was looking forward, and Yuri had been admiring his profile, the strong jaw and defined cheekbones and long lashes, until he said that and the younger boy began spluttering indignantly.
He lifted their still joined hands and waved them angrily, “I don't make a habit of holding the hands of just any fucking guy thanks! What, are you always picking up guys and driving them away from parties to have walks in the park? This is just another Tuesday to you?” Otabek laughed, quiet but full, and Yuri yelled wordlessly. As he tried to disentangle their fingers the older boy gripped his hand tighter, pulling Yuri in until they were facing each other.
“Sorry, sorry no of course not.” His laughing faded to a soft smile then, and his thumb stroked the back of Yuri’s hand as they looked into each other's eyes. Yuri felt his own face go slack, all of his concentration suddenly on drinking in Otabek’s face. “I just – I didn't expect you to be like this.”
Yuri’s face hardened into a scowl once again with haste. “What? I'm disappointing your expectations? Fuck you.” This time Yuri did successfully wrench his hand away. He did an about turn and made it two steps before Otabek had grabbed it back, pulled him to a stop. He didn't turn around. Otabek spoke anyway.
“That isn't what I meant at all. You're wonderful, Yuri. I just mean – from the way you danced, I thought you would be all softness and gentleness and you're not but – this suits you so much better. Fighter looks good on you. I liked you as a fairy but you're beautiful as a soldier too.”
The unexpected words were enough for Yuri to turn around, if only so he could stare into dark eyes and try to work out the sincerity for himself. “…A soldier?”
“That… probably sounds ridiculous.” Otabek said quietly. Yuri shook his head, and in a turn that surprised him as much as Otabek, moved closer, and then grabbed Otabek’s other hand. He swung their joined arms ever so slightly.
“No I – I prefer it to fairy. Thank you. For – all of that.”
Otabek simply nodded.
They kept walking, unaware and uncaring of how much time had passed, until they reached the end of the path and turned around to walk back. Once back at the entrance of the park Yuri slowed down, pulling his phone out of his pocket as Otabek went ahead to fiddle with his bike. He had gotten a barrage of notifications, but he ignored all of the messages from people that weren’t Mila.
**Mila:** kissed him yet???
**Mila:** yurio! are u ever coming back!!
**Mila:** did he kidnap u?! it's been ages
**Mila:** LOL CHRIS JUST SAID ITS COS GAY SEX HAS A LONGER SET UP I HOPE U USE PROTECTION
**Mila:** but seriously please text me so i know ur alive
**Mila:** the club is gonna close soon it’s the last song
**Mila:** tyypin n dacjng is hagrf
**Mila:** typing and dancing is hard lol
**Mila:** !!! reply!!! we’re going to the afterparty u better meet us there brat
Yuri felt slightly bad about making his friend worry so he shot off a quick I'm still alive and on the way back before sliding his phone back into his pocket and moving towards Otabek. |
8c3fa668e04b482e88984f930c6ae428 | ['7fe5c622764d45e985d5ef6e1c23ec93'] |
**Author's Note:**
> This is the first fanfic I've written in a while, and the first I've written for the Poirot series. I would love any feedback on it! My french is also very poor, so please let me know if I got any of it wrong!
>
> This particular story takes place in the late 1920's, as I'm assuming Miss Lemon was Poirot's first secretary as a private detective in London.
It has been recently brought to my attention that I have never recounted the story of how I came into the employment of the esteemed Belgian detective M. Poirot—or rather—how he became my longest running employer in my history as a professional secretary. Captain Hastings has succeeded in persuading me to write this account myself, stating that someday—when this work can safely be published of course—it will be a well desired piece of writing (he may also have mentioned ‘for the records’ in this conversation, which I will have to admit did help in bringing me around to the idea). Therefore, I have agreed to outline this tale as honestly as I can manage.
***
For readers to make sense of this story, I feel that it’s necessary to explain some things about my previous situations before continuing. It may come as a surprise to some that before M. Poirot, I was in the habit of not staying under the same employer for more than a year— _not_ due to lack of skill mind you! In fact, I have many encouraging references from my former employers (those of whom I left in good spirits anyway). At any rate, it was for a much different reason that I tended to not stay in one place for too long.
It was no secret that I was (and still am) a woman well past a marrying age and who was yet to be as such. Of course, this was no cause for concern for most of my former employers who much preferred a secretary that would not get distracted by a prospective husband while on the job. However, many would take notice of the extra attention I gave to their female clients and put two and two together. And, naturally, they were right. Obviously, I would _never_ do anything that would incriminate myself or any woman I ‘acquainted’ myself with, so if my employer took offence of my actions he would have only his suspicions to act on and nothing more. Without any evidence of course, he would simply suggest I seek employment elsewhere to avoid gossip or scandal on both our parts. Conversely, as was more often the case, many of my former employers made no notice of my behavior or chose not to act upon it—which was extremely lucky for me I might add! However, I had no way of knowing which was the case; so, for my own safety, I chose to leave most of my lasting positions after a year. The chaos of having to constantly adjust to new employment only to leave soon after—well, it was torturous to say the least! But in a way, it became another orderly part of my life in the end.
Therefore, when I was approaching 8 months as M. Poirot’s secretary, I began to feel anxious. He was an up-and-coming private detective at the time with an intelligence I’d only seen before once, and I feared that if I stayed much longer he would surely find me out. So, on a particularly quiet morning I approached my employer with the letter of resignation that I had resolved to type up the night before.
I opened the doors to the sitting room with enough sound to alert M. Poirot to my presence. He was sitting at his desk, reading the morning post over a cup of _tisane_ I’d prepared for him earlier.
“M. Poirot? Do you have a moment?”
He regarded me over the top of his pince-nez with mild interest; after all, the fact that I had approached him—not through the small window to my office but in the sitting room and without a client—meant important business.
“ _Naturellement_ , Miss Lemon.” He stood as I approached and made to remove his pince-nez, but stopped when he noticed the paper in my hand. With one of his small, polite smiles, he motioned to the chair in front of his desk. “Please to sit.”
I did as instructed and handed him my letter, bracing myself for the conversation I knew would soon follow. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m handing in my two-week’s notice.”
M. Poirot took the letter from me with an expression of concern clear on his round face. His brow furrowed deeper and deeper as he read until he threw the paper down in between us with one of his Gallic sounds I took to mean frustration.
“But Miss Lemon, I do not understand!” He exclaimed. “I have made the most suitable working environment, _N’ai-je pas?_ And the pay, is it not substantial?”
“Oh, yes. And of course it is!” I replied cordially. It wasn’t the first time I had heard such questions, of course.
“Then… it is my profession?”
Again, I disagreed. I gently reminded him of one of my previous employers, who (quite coincidentally) also happened to be a private detective.
“Ah, yes. _Je me souviens_. Then your reason for leaving your position here is…?”
At this point I was getting very frustrated with him, as well as a little apprehensive. Never had I ever had an employer so persistent on needing to know why I wanted to seek different employment!
“I think you very well _know_ the reason, M. Poirot.” I said quite sternly. I had hoped the severity in my voice would cause him to back down, which was very naïve of me at the time. Now I know better than to think M. Poirot would _ever_ pass up on finding the truth. | c3b6872be9f34ec2b68e5e3907f94027 | ['7fe5c622764d45e985d5ef6e1c23ec93'] | I was so wrapped up in my own conflicts that I had completely forgotten about our original engagement.
“You know, M. Poirot, I don’t think there’s much reason to look for another employer anymore. Do you?” I gave him a wide smile and he returned it happily.
“No, _Je ne pense pas qu'il y ait!_ Then you will remain as my secretary?”
“Oh, most definitely!”
“ _Bon._ ” He beamed at me with pride. “And I trust you will dispose of this letter _plus efficacement?"_
He slid my letter of resignation towards me on the desk. I took it in agreement and finally rose from my chair. I made to walk back to my office but paused at the door leading into the hallway.
“M. Poirot?”
He looked back up at me over a letter he’d started to read as I was walking away. “Yes, Miss Lemon?”
“Thank you.”
“ _Ce n'est rien._ ”
***
I would like to state for the record that my employer has never been anything but amiable to me over the many years I’ve spent as his secretary. He’s even been so kind as to allow me to help him with some of his many intriguing cases. I would be quite embarrassed to say it directly, but I might even say he has become a very good friend. One thing's for certain: I have been extremely lucky to be in the employment of M. Poirot.
**Author's Note:**
> The employer Miss Lemon is referring to is Mr. Parker Pyne, another one of Dame Christie's detectives. Miss Lemon is also the name of Pyne's secretary, and it is assumed that she is the same Miss Lemon as Poirot's secretary (Ariadne Oliver also appears in the Pyne series).
>
> This story was written mostly as a way to practice Miss Lemon's character, and to explore my own headcanons for her. For example, I imagine that her father died in the war.
>
> And lastly, a special thanks to fjm for pointing out some historical inaccuracies I made, which have since been fixed!
>
> French Translations:
> _N’ai-je pas_ = have I not
> _Je me souviens_ = I remember
> _Peu Importe_ = It does not matter
> _Je ne pense pas qu'il y ait_ = I do not think there is
> _Ce n'est rien_ = It is nothing
> |
5445bd9cda16482e8e7af11a1f8640e9 | ['801be8d833f845df82b74c50dc52671e'] |
You were known as the insecure one. The quiet one. The nervous one. The pack saw you as the little baby who always needed taking care of. Sure you weren't exactly the biggest or more confident of the wolves but you were strong and could take care of yourself contrary to what they thought.
The only one who didn't see you like that was Stiles. Your boyfriend. You'd been best friends since kindergarten and at the start of high school he decided to ask you out. You were thrilled. But lately he had changed. The way he acted around you and how much time he spent with you. He always seemed to be with Lydia.
You and Lydia were the complete opposites, nothing about you was the same and that was probably why you didn't get along. She was the popular pretty girl who everyone wanted to be and you were the quiet insecure girl with anxiety.
Usually Stiles would pick you up and take you to school but this morning he didn't turn up. You decided to text him.
Y/N: Where are you? X
Stiles: Oh crap. Sorry. I forgot X
Y/N: Its fine. Can you inform Mr Harris that I won't be in today. X
Stiles: Why?
Y/N: Cause I don't feel up to it okay?!
Stiles: Ok. Are you still going to meet the pack at Deatons after school? X
Y/N: No.
Stiles:What's wrong? And be honest please X
Y/N: Nothing. Honestly I just feel a bit sick. X
Stiles: Okay. I might come over if I have a free and check on you X
Y/N: You don't have to. But thanks X
Your mum had already left for work and so had your dad so you were alone. You changed into your running bottoms and put on a crop top. You left the house with your headphones in blaring out 'She looks so perfect' by 5SOS. You completely lost track of time as well as having no clue where you had run too. You knew that it was in the woods but you didn't recognise any of your surroundings.
You sat down agaisnt a tree attempting to regain your breathing to normal and to compose yourself. Yet the opposite happened. You felt the first few tears run slowly down your face and you wiped them away before a huge wave of emotion came crashing out. You got up and carried in running. Trying to take your mind off all of the built up emotions that were trying to break their way out.
Soon enough you found yourself in front of the abandoned Hale house. You jogged around to the side and sunk down agaisnt the side of the building. That was when your phone started going off. 'How in heck do I have signal in here?' You wondered.
Stiles: Where are you? Your house is empty?! X
Y/N: I went for a run and lost track of time. Sorry x
Stiles: It's fine. I have to get back to the school. Lyds needs me for some research x
Y/N: Good for you.
Stiles: Okay then. Well I'll see if I can come over after Deatons later. Love you x
Y/N: You too x
The tears started coming out in floods as you threw your phone agaisnt the patch of grass ahead of you. Your sobs had become so strong that you didn't hear your phone ring at all. When you got up and picked it up you had 6 missed call. 4 from Stiles, 1 from Lydia and 1 from Liam. Your best friend. You decided to call Liam back. It rang for about 9 seconds and then he picked up.
"Oh Jesus thank god that your okay. Stiles wants to talk to you. I'm gonna give the phone to h-
"Liam dunbar don't you dare. If there is something going on you tell me. I don't want to find out from him" you growled at him.
"Okay then. Please please please tell me that you not in the woods."
"If I did then I would be lying. Why?"
"Shittttt. Get out of there right now. I don't have time to explain. You need to run as fast as you can back to your house. We will be there waiting for you" Liam said sounding urgent.
"I only want you there Liam. Please" You replied.
"Fine okay. Run now. See you in a minute". And with that he hung up.
You stood up and began running. Having to wipe the tears that were still flowing down your face away so that you could see. That was when you heard a gun shot. You ran faster and faster until you found yourself on the side of a main road, panting for breath.
You carried on running but slowed the pace down a bit. After about 5 minutes you found yourself running down the road where you house was and relief flushed through your bones. Liam was stood outside your house. Alone.
You ran straight up to him and jumped into his arms as he hugged you. You stayed like this for a few minutes and then decided that you were really sweaty and should go inside and get changed.
You went into the house with Liam following behind you.
"I'm going to go get changed. You can come up with me. You have to explain why I just had to run for 15 minutes that fast" you said laughing.
"Sure" Liam replied with a small smile. You laughing suddenly stopped and you frowned at Liam.
"Okay what else is going on?" You asked. You could tell that something other than werewolf business was playing on his mind because you knew him well.
"Um well. Its just that i'm worried about Lydia and Stiles because they seem to be getting quite close and I don't want you to get hurt" he said looking at the ground. | c138c2a2406044d4b89fea7bb6ff82af | ['801be8d833f845df82b74c50dc52671e'] |
22nd birthdays, how fun, is what any mundane would think. Or what anyone would think if they didn't have an immortal boyfriend. 'God must know how much I hate birthdays. Everyone does' Alec thought to himself.
Xxx
Even though it was his birthday the day hadn't started off as shitty as he thought it would. Waking up next to Magnus had become a daily occurrence and had soon become a regular sleeping pattern, with Alec now leaving spare pairs of clothes there and his own blue toothbrush placed next to Magnus' own pink glittery one. Alec knew that he would never tire of waking up next to the care-free makeup less man who was currently curled up like a cat into his side.
Realizing that he had been staring wordlessly at his boyfriends sleeping form, he quickly but gently tried to pry his way out of bed without waking Magnus. Which he failed to do horrifically. The warlock rolled elegantly onto his back and opened his eyes and blinked a few times trying to get used to the dim lighting in the room to see why he had been so rudely awaken, only to be faced with a stunning and startled look Alec staring down at him.
"Good morning darling. Sleep well?" He mumbled slowly as he sat up grasping Alec's muscular bicep and grinning up at him.
"Morning baby, yeah fine." He managed to stutter out in a gruff sleepy voice before pulling away to pick up his clothes. Even though at first Alec had hated the little pet names that his boyfriend had found for him, they soon began to grow on him, picking out a few to reserve for Magnus himself.
Xxx
Alec had yet to tell Magnus that today was his birthday and so was praying that none of his annoying yet loveable siblings decided to suddenly turn up and interrupt his perfectly normal day. He had hoped that Magnus nor Chairman Meow would notice the hopeless moping and the sad stares that aimed at them both when no one was looking.
"Okay darling. What's wrong? 'cause you look down and don't tell me that you are fine Alexander because I know you better than you think." The warlock cooed as he sat gracefully down onto the kitchen chair across from Alec's own.
"Its-Its... Nothing-" He started before quickly stopping himself after seeing the unimpressed glare that was being sent his way. "-fine. Its something. Well no it's nothing but your not gonna stop staring till I tell you so it's my birthday." He mumbled all too quickly watching as a confused Magnus blinked several times before a few moments later a shit-eating grin broke out across his face.
"Oh Alexander why didn't you tell me sooner!" Magnus cried joyfully. "I would have made breakfast in bed and brought you some extravagant present. Oh My God! I haven't got you a present!" He sighed taking a few moments to breathe before continuing his rant. Alec just sat there staring down at his clasped hands that rested in his lap, trying not to let his emotions seep through his cover. Again, which he did not succeed in.
He stood up so rapidly that he caused the chair that he was previously sat on to fall back hitting against the floor. He quickly picked it up before running out of the room so fast that he didn't have a chance to notice that Magnus had stopped talking. He went as quickly as he could to the bathroom in their shared bedroom and locked the door before pulling out his steele to draw the locking rune though he knew that The Warlock could easily get passed a simple shadowhunter rune.
Xxx
About a minute later light knocking could be heard against the door before he heard his boyfriend ask if he was okay. Of course Magnus knew that yet he did not know what to say when confronted with an upset Alec. He had only ever seen His Dear Alexander cry once before and that had been about the whole immortality situa-
"Oh you silly Nephilim." He stated before using magic to open the bathroom door. He knew that he wouldn't like what he found yet that didn't stop the fear and worry that began to surface at the sight in front of him.
Alec was sat on the floor, up against the bath-tub, head in his hands, resting against his knees, sobbing quietly to himself. He walked towards him and knelt down in front of the sobbing boy without hesitation.
"My Dear Alexander, its your birthday, your not meant to cry today" Magnus purred as he reached out to trace his thumb along Alec's jawline.
Like a cat he buried his head further into Magnus' hand seeking comfort from the soft ringed fingers. They sat in silence for several minutes until Alec sniffled and pulled his boyfriend closer into him, effectively hiding his face in the older mans shoulder and neck.
"I can't do this anymore" he managed to grumble out, voice breaking in the middle. Magnus quickly pulled back and sat down next to him against the bath, pulling his knees to his chest.
"Magnus I am so sorry"
"No. I won't let you give up on us so easily Alec"
"This is not easy for me!" He snapped back defensively as if there was anything still left to fight for.
"Well you could have fooled me" he shot back without a trace of humour in his voice. Alec let out a low chuckle finally looking up at the man sat beside him. |
12cdeb4ac5494c958f32a8db214717dd | ['801d9e6a699e40b5b601c214ad7affae'] | “Don’t. I’m still mad at you.” She stalked to the kitchen. “You hungry?” McCree started to get up, “Plum let me help you with that,” before stumbling to the ground. “Fuck, I forgot ‘bout that,” he groaned out, his leg aching. “Lay back down! You’ll just slow me down anyways,” she said, pulling a saucepan onto the stove, humming along to the music.
Jesse looked off, frowning. “Why are you mad at me?” he asked. He was surprised to hear a laugh. He tried to explain further, “Well I mean-” “Why?” she interjected. Ashe took a deep breath, “You left me.” She paused. Another deep breath. “I was gonna break you out you know. You and I would run the world, just us huh?” McCree tried to interrupt, “Baby you know I-” “But no! You joined Blackwatch. Do you know how pissed I was? So I think I have the right to be mad, Jess. You left me high and dry so yeah. I am mad at you.” She continued chopping, and threw the ingredients in the pan. He thought for a moment before speaking again.
“You think I wanted to leave you Lizzie?” McCree whispered, turning to face her. She looked away and spat words through her teeth, “Don’t call me that.” “You really think i wanted to leave the woman I loved behind to live the life I had planned for us without me?” he asked desperately. “Well that’s what you did Jesse!” Ashe yelled in infuriation. She threw her hands up in defeat, “It doesn’t matter if you ‘meant to or not’, you left me!”
“I-” Mcree paused. He buried his face in his hands and sighed. “I’m so sorry baby.” He staggered, pushing his body up off the floor. He limped over to her and hugged her from behind, holding her close. She finally turned to face him and hid her face in his chest. “When I saw you in that room at first, I wished it wasn’t you. Because now I have to watch you leave twice,” She sniffled out.
“When today is just a memory to me I know I’ll still be loving ,I’ll still be loving you,” he sang gently along with the radio as he rocked her. He held her like that for a few minutes, but it felt like a lifetime.
“Oh shit, the food,” she realized quickly, letting go of McCree.
She had forgotten that he could barely stand on his own, and he fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Before she could worry or fuss over him, he let out a hearty laugh. “Are you ok Jesse?” He yawned, “I’m great sugarbear.” He hugged her legs and looked up at her. She continued cooking, singing along with the radio quietly.
“You know it’s been a while since I’ve had someone else make a home cooked meal for me,” McCree said through a mouth full of food. “Eh, you were always the better chef, Jess,” Ashe said with a small smile. “It’s more fun with you around though. None of them know that though. This side of you was always mine,” he spoke reminiscently. She chuckled as she took her dish up, “We both know you couldn’t handle me if you tried, cowboy.”
“Is that a challenge?”
2. Chapter 2
McCree’s hands roamed over Ashe’s skin, his mouth working the flesh of her neck. He smirked when he heard a small moan leave her lips.
The sound reminded him of the old days, back when they’d run heists then celebrate through the night.
Of course this time he was shot in the leg and hadn’t done much himself just yet,but he still definitely didn’t mind the celebration part.
Ashe ran her fingers through his hair and let out a calm sigh. She had missed the way his hands felt touching her, the warm steady pressure. He placed his hands on her hips and brought her into his lap. He pulled her down against him and she rolled her hips down in response. He moved his lips to her ear and grinned. “Still think I can’t handle you, sugar?”
Before she could respond, a loud crash came from outside the room. McCree let out a growl of annoyance before shouting, “Who’s there!?” He grabbed his revolver off the bedside table and tried to stand up, but Ashe stopped him and signaled him to stay back. He tried to argue, but quickly remembered he was in no shape to walk, nevertheless fight. She held Viper close and aimed it at head level to the doorway. There were loud footsteps through the livingroom and her shoulders tensed more and more. A few moments passed before there was a polite knock at the door.
Ashe rolled her eyes and her stress melted away. “Come in,” she spat, a very sharp twist in demeanor. B.O.B. peeked in through the door and handed her a paper awkwardly. She grabbed the paper from his hands angrily before squinting to read it.
“God dammit...how’d they get in?” she demanded. B.O.B shrugged before running off. She ran her hand through her hair before putting on her clothes. “What’s up darlin’?” McCree yawned and stretched. “Los Muertos found us. I gotta go Jess, you stay here. I’ll be back later once we wipe ‘em.” “Do what you gotta hun,” he responded, almost too blasé to the situation. She pulled on her boots and ran off.
McCree took his spare time to bathe and get dressed, which proved just almost a struggle. He looked in the mirror while buttoning up an old flannel. “Ugh I don’t fit into these quite as well as I used to huh…” he mumbled off. He looked around the room expectantly. “Really? Tough crowd I guess. You know with all the time it took me to put on pants, I really thought you would have at least considered helping instead of just watching, Sombra.” | bca505aa531d424ea16efb0f4eacfc5e | ['801d9e6a699e40b5b601c214ad7affae'] |
1. Chapter 1
Jesse McCree had always considered himself relatively smooth under pressure. Sure he would, occasionally slip up and have to (heroically of course) worm his way out of the situation, but usually he was very consistent.
So obviously when he found himself tied to a chair, shot in the leg and unarmed, it was simply natural that he flirted with the guard while internally freaking the hell out.
He knew the Los Muertos gang was still a little mad about the heist he pulled last year, but he didn’t know he was of kidnap on sight status.
“Ya know I really am honored to be here and all, gorgeous, but-”
“Shut up cowboy,” the woman retorted. McCree winced, “C’mon y’all could have at least put out some candles, set the mood a bit, no?” He thought for a second before smiling a bit, “If you untie me we could have some fun you know. I won’t tell if you don’t,” he finished with a wink.
She continued pretending he didn't exist. How had he even gotten himself here in the first place anyways? In a dark, dank room, surrounded by boxes of who knows what. He tried to think back, his head pounding, unable to come up with anything. He’d been on a short errand to intercept an ammunition truck, felt a sharp pain in his leg and it must have gone downhill from there. He tried flexing his leg and felt a biting pain. He couldn’t walk or move, so he would have to wait.
After what seemed like hours, there was a knock on the door. A man in dark clothes walked through the door. Some subtle whispering and then an angry glance. His guard hauled him up from the chair, cutting the ropes. “Goddamn watch the leg, doll…” he mumbled as he limped to the door.
Suddenly, the guard let go of him and he fell to the ground. A loud whine filled the air and then fire filled the doorway. Of course this kind of thing would happen to him right now. The guard tried to scramble away before falling to the ground unconscious. McCree attempted to get up, but quickly realized he wasn’t getting anywhere alone with his leg in the condition it was.
Several armed mercenaries wearing masks ran through the flames, carrying the boxes out past him one by one. He tried to speak to them, but they ignored him
After a minute or so the slow click of heels on the ground came from the hall. A tall thin figure appeared in the doorway. Mccree squinted up through the flames to see a grinning face, framed by bone-white hair.
“My, my Jesse? You are definitely the last person I expected to be behind that door, what with all the security. And to think i came all this way hoping for an ‘incredibly important prisoner’ only to find you.”
“Haha…” he coughed out. He glanced up and spoke with a sweet southern drawl. “A sight for sore eyes. What are you doing here Ashe?”
-
“Take your pants off.”
“You’ve only been with me 15 minutes and you’re already trying to get me undressed? I figured you missed me and all Lizzie but-”
Ashe gave him the shut the hell up or else I won’t help you with your leg at all look.“I told you not to call me that, Jesse. You’re shot, just let me handle your wounds Jesus.”
“Yes Ma’am,” he said in an innocent voice. Jesse pulled off his chaps and pants, biting back the pain. With no warning, Ashe wrapped gauze roughly over his thigh. “Argh! What the hell Ashe!”
She ignored his grunts and angry grumbles while working to stop his bleeding. She continued working for a few minutes before speaking again. “What are you doin’ here Jess,” she asked, her facial expressions subtly softer.
“Hahhh… funny story actually. You see I was on my way to visit… my friend and… hey… what are you doing sugar?” She brushed his hair out of his face and tilted her head in confusion. She combed her fingers through the cowboy’s bangs and pushed it back and over, hand gingerly caressing his neck. She drew back quickly, realizing what she was doing. She turned away before quietly saying, “You cut it different now.” McCree’s eyebrows shot up and before he could laugh he started coughing.
Ashe tossed a canteen of water at him.
“Drink.” As she began to walk away McCree stopped her.
“Wait!” She turned back quickly. He simply chuckled, “I just wanted to take another look at you.” She rolled her eyes and strutted off, her hips swaying gently.
He missed that view. McCree closed his eyes and dozed off dreaming of those blood red lips smiling.
-
“Stupid cowboy and his stupid hair…” Ashe grumbled off. She set the stack of paperwork on her desk and slumped down in her leather chair. She turned the radio onto the old country station and leaned back
“Liz…?” Of course he was awake. Ashe frowned, looking at the cowboy laying on her bed. “I told you not to call me that,” she said, exasperated.
“C’mere Li- Ashe,” he asked sleepily. “Just for a little?” She stood up and sat at the foot of the bed. McCree looked around the room, “It’s almost the same. You kept our picture.” She sighed and looked at the small photograph of her and McCree playing cards.
“Being truthful, I couldn’t bring myself to take it down. Even after all you put me through, leaving me to lead Deadlock and all, I still couldn’t take it down.” He reached for her arm and pulled her close. He smiled and cooed, “I missed you.” Ashe pulled back. |
c03538c7d9414ab9b0d25939a4641888 | ['806349bd2de24e19b5e5169ab6421714'] | Your head whipped to the direction Jackie was in and you scrambled o get as far from the skeletons as you could while chasing down the asshole you called a friend.
Jackie screamed and took off, dodging and tripping as she tried to run away from you. Gavin, Amy, and Dan laughed at the hilarious scene as Jackie screamed Bloody Murder while you ran after her, fuming.
"Jackie get your goddamn ass over here so I can kick it!"
"Nooo and why you so mad?!"
"Why did you make me fall into the skelebros laps asshole?!"
"Because I'm or best friend!"
"What the fuck kind of logic is that?!"
"Good friends tell you 'good game, congrats you won', but best friends push you and laugh at your embarrassment in the arms of your boyfriends!"
"What the fuck we are friends!"
"Dating!"
"No!!!"
"I seriously call it that you will date them in the future!"
"Yeah?! Well come here, cause you got a date with my FISTS!!!"
"FFFFFFUUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKK MMMMEEEE GGGGAAAAVVVVIIIIIIIIIIIIN!!!!!" Jackie screamed as she gave what she thought was her last breath because she couldn't breathe after laughing and running for so long and for so hard.
"S-s-sorry, Jackie, b-but maybe later!" Gavin chortled, tears pouring down his face from laughing so hard. "I-I'm laughing too hRd to do anything else right now."
"I-I can't feel-my-legs!" Amy panted as she laughed, clutching her ribs in pain.
"G-goodnight everybody." Dan included, deciding that this should be a Yakko Warner moment since Amy hinted at it.
Gavin, Amy, and Dan were all on the floor, laughing their heads off as you continued to chase Jackie around the house, shouting the strangest obscenities.
A mother walking with her grinning son outside the house gasped and covered his ears. The young boy frowned and complained to his mom as she promptly pushed him pasta the house, trying to get as far away from it as soon as possible.
"But mo-om, those are really cool words!"
"No Johnny, we don't say those bad words. Why, those people should be ashamed of themselves!" She glare at the house and humphed, dragging a disheartened Johnny away from the house and the hooligans inside.
Back to you-
You seriously had wonder why you enjoyed having Papyrus and Sans so close to you. It was almost like...like...
Undertale
"HAHA! YES!" Papyrus threw his arms into the air and jumped up, posing heroically. "ONCE AGAIN I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, TRIUMPH IN THE ULTIMATE DUEL OF MENTAL AND PHYSICAL PROWESS!"
Sans chuckled and reached over to pop the lid of the ketchup bottle and drank some. "way to go, bro. you really showed team rocket a thing or two huh?"
Papyrus scoffed. "OF COURSE! THOSE VILLAINS OUGHT TO LEARN THAT CRIME MOST CERTAINLY DOES NOT PAY."
"yep."
"AND THOUGH GARY ISN'T DEEMED A VILLAIN CANONICALLY, I QUESTION HIS MOTIVES. WHY ELSE WOULD HE BE SO MEAN TO THE PROTAGONIST OF THE STORY? IT COULD ONLY MEAN ONE THING!"
"he's a jerk?"
"THAT HE IS AN ANTAGONIST AND THEREFORE SECRETLY A MEMBER OF NONE OTHER THAN TEAM ROCKET!"
"bro you're so cool."
"WHY THANK YOU, SANS."
"it must be chilly, standing under the ventilation shaft. I guess there's no way to prevent your coolness."
"I SUPPOSE S-SANS!"
"heheheheheh."
"I OFFICIALLY UN-THANK YOU!"
"Hey guys, I'm home."
The two brothers looked up as the door opened and you stepped in. Papyrus smiled happily and ran up to you, sweeping you into a hug.
"Y/N! I AM SO HAPPY YOU'RE BACK." You smiled and hugged him back, patting him.
"Thank you, Papyrus. It's always nice to see you too." Papyrus set you down and you placed your bag on the counter, removing your coat and placing it on the hanger as you made your way to the living room.
Sans scooted over to make room for you and Papyrus and grinned at you, munching on a carrot. You raised a brow at him and looked at the TV in curiosity. Pokemon, huh?
"Hello, Sans."
"eh," he quickly but at the top part of the carrot. "what's up, doc?"
"The ceiling."
"ouch. I'm going to need some stabilizers for not having the for-height to see that one coming."
You chuckled while Papyrus threw his hands into the air. "SANS ARE YOU SERIOUS?!"
"dunno. I thought I was only sans."
"Y/N COMES HOME AFTER A HARD DAY OF WORK AND YOU TORMENT HER WITH YOUR TERRIBLE PUNS?"
"Oh, the horror." You sigh and fall back to rest against Papyrus's shoulder. "Whatever shall I do?"
Papyrus blushed at how you looked up at him with a playful grin, your soft, warm body leaning against his was making his SOUL beat faster and his knee bones feel like limp spaghetti.
"W-WELL, ER-"
"Maybe a game will help us escape his punishment, huh Papyrus?" And you turned and began to check through the discs for a three player game.
"YES THAT SOUNDS-WAIT A MINUTE."
You and Sans chuckle as Papyrus puzzled over what you said. Sans tilted his head as he looked at you. "huh. never took ya ta be a gamer girl, doc."
You smiled as you shuffled the discs. "My brothers and I play when they visit they visit me occasionally. As long as it's not those B.S. medical games like 'Operation', I'm fine with playing."
"OPERATION? WHAT'S WRONG WITH IT?" Papyrus questioned. He rather liked playing that game with Alphys.
You frown. "It has absolutely nothing to do with actual medicinal procedures or the medical field itself is what. Hmph."
"that's great." Sans grinned mischievously. "now I know what to get ya for ya birthday."
"Aha!" You triumphantly held up the Wii version of 'Speed Racer' and began to put the discs inside when you heard Sans say something. "What was that?"
He chuckled. "oh, nothing. nothing at all."
You blinked. "Right. Moving on, you could choose a c-" | a8fb63823fdc42efa8003e186322bf3a | ['806349bd2de24e19b5e5169ab6421714'] | Papyrus's eye sockets widened. "Oh shit." One does not simply give Blueberry sugar. He teleported behind the couch for safety as his brother started the vibrating process proceeding to gnarly explosion. Countdown for detonation in 3, 2, 1…
"MWWWWWEEEEEEHHHHHHEEEEEHHHHEEEEEEHHHHHEEEE!!!!"
You shivered slightly as you entered the Hamburger Joint with Pierre. The Frenchman looked at you in concern. "Cherie, ca va?"
You smiled up at him. "Yeah, I'm fine, thank you. It felt like there was some kind of disturbance in the force." A man dressed in a Yoda outfit suddenly popped up in front of you.
"Luuukkke. Feeeell the foooo-wait a minute." He squinted his eyes and leaned in close to your confused expression.
"You're not Luke. Sorry dude." He laughed. "Wrong cosplayer!"
You and Pierre shared a weirded out look. Right outside the diner's glass doors, a guy dressed in a Luke outfit honked, causing the three of you to turn and see him inside a car painted with Star Wars designs. "Dude! I'm here! Now come on man, we're gonna miss the convention!" The Yoda guy waved to you two as he ran out the door.
"Sorry again for the confusion! Have a nice day and Feel the Force!" You and Pierre watched him jump into the truck, him and his friend driving away whilst doing an acapella of the Star Wars theme song.
You and Pierre watched until they were gone and exchanged bemused looks. "Well that was weird." Pierre intoned and looked out the doors one last time before shrugging and heading to one of the booths. You followed and sat in front, opening the menu with an eyebrow raised in curiosity.
"Wow. This is a nice menu for a burger joint." You comment. Pierre chuckled and spoke in a French accent. "But of course, what would you expect from moi?" You giggled.
"Sorry, I didn't want to stereotype anything, especially considering how you don't look French." Pierre faux sighed and continued looking through his menu. "Touché."
A waitress soon came by, clipboard in hand. She was pretty, you thought. Kind of looked like Rose Tyler. "Hello! My name's Samantha. Are you ready to order?" Aw damn. She even sounded like Rose. It would've been so cool if her name was either Rose or Tyler.
Pierre nodded. "Yes, please. I'd like the Mozzarella Combo with a cherry cola." He looked back at you.
"Y/n?"
"The same, please. Oh, and with a side of fries." Pierre grinned and turned to the waitress. "What the lady said." Samantha nodded and wrote down the orders.
"Okay. I'll be back with your drinks in a moment." Samantha took the menus and left. As soon as she was gone, Pierre turned to you with an amused expression on his face.
"Is it me, or is she a Rose Tyler clone?" Pierre asked. You nodded.
"I was thinking the same thing!" You said. "But she doesn't act like Rose. Too polite and nice with not enough sass." Pierre chuckled.
"Sounds like my dad, trying to be prim and proper while at the same time making sure to nag me to find a decent wife and fast." Wow. That's old-fashioned. Wonder if Daddy was a hypocrite and went wild to party like the typical old-fashioned dads.
"It's obvious her father's a lunatic," you said in your best manly man voice. "He was up all night, raving." You made some beatbox noises and beats on the table. "Woah, slow down Maurice!" You said before giggling at the funny gif you imitated. Pierre snorted he was laughing so hard. Samantha came by with the drinks and saw a laughing Pierre and giggling you.
"Slow down, Maurice!" You said before joining him in the laughter at the thought of an older, sterner version of Pierre with shades and lights booty dancing to a rave.
Samantha quietly placed the tray of drinks down and backed away slowly, making sure to mask her fear the best she could. They can smell fear.
You and Pierre calmed down enough to a state of giggles. "Oh-oh man," Pierre sighed. "The best little sister ever." He smiled and added the last part quietly.
You cocked your head to the side. "Hmm? What was that."
"Nothing." Pierre smiled. "How about you? Any crazy relatives?" You chuckled and shrugged.
"I'm not sure." You admit. "I've lived in an orphanage for most of my life." Pierre winced. "Ouch. Sorry, I didn't mean anything personal." He apologized. You waved a hand in dismissal.
"It's fine, really. I've got wonderful friends that are like family too me." You smiled. You thought about Undyne and Alphys, Asgore and shy little Chara, Sans and Papyrus. They were all so kind to you in the little time that you've known them. They were the most precious people to you in the world. "The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb."
Pierre nodded. "Damn. That's deep." You chuckled and decided to officially end the touchy-feely mood. The only one, as strange as it was, you felt comfortable that should see you so vulnerable, was Papyrus. Something inside you that you still couldn't name thrummed with affection at the thought of the skeleton.
"That's what she said." Pierre deadpanned you for a few seconds before he broke, unable to keep a serious face. "Oh my god. The puns. The puns are everywhere."
You both were halfway done with your drinks when Samantha returned, looking strangely like she was afraid? Huh. And placed your meals down in front of you. She then placed Dessert Menus beside the tray and quickly curtsied. "Here's your food and please enjoy!" She said before speedwalking away. You and Pierre sweat dropped.
"Okay...well, let's dig in!" Pierre said and you each began to eat your food. It wasn't Sans level of awesome cooking, but it was pretty good. "Not bad." Pierre spoke, voicing your thoughts. |
dcf6b0a5ae2549ba86cac691fae86ff7 | ['8081d89261d242dda667fc7e68b8ca3d'] | Rick slowly stood up and almost fell back on the bed. He was too drunk and he wasn’t going to be able to keep his mouth shut. He always ran his mouth whenever he got a little drunk. He wasn’t going to be able to stop himself. He was too mad and heartbroken.
He stumbled to her, almost falling down on the way there. “And here I thought we were going to live happily ever after. Well, that’s what I get for hoping, right? It’s kind of hard when your wife decides to cheat on you.”
Rick really really didn’t know a thing. He saw them kiss and started assuming shit. Michonne wasn’t going to stand there and have him accuse her of these things. She had already told him clearly that she didn’t want anyone else, but him. Why couldn’t Rick believe that?
“I’m not going to stand here and have you accuse me of these things.” Michonne told him. “I won’t. I’ll leave.”
“Why?” Rick asked. “So you can go fuck Heath some more?”
“I didn’t fuck Heath.” Michonne said in a loud voice.
“Michonne, stop lying. You did. You’re also a big liar. I added that to the reasons why I can’t look at you the same anymore. Little lies are alright, but once you start lying to someone about how you feel about them, that’s pretty serious.. Oh and let’s not forget, you still claim that you didn’t fuck Heath. You seemed to be enjoying that kiss. Look at your lip… he bit you. Damn, you never told me you like it that rough.”
All of Rick’s words were hitting her like a pile of bricks. They were hurting her. He was saying all of these things and it was all because he was assuming things. Yes, the kiss looked real, but couldn’t he give Michonne a chance to explain? Why would he even believe these things? Michonne realized that Rick didn’t trust her at all. Adding on to that list, he couldn’t even look at her the same anymore. Tears began to fall down her cheek. Rick didn’t understand. He didn’t understand a fucking thing. If only he knew.. if only he knew the things Heath said to her.. maybe he wouldn't be in her face screaming at him. That's the thing.. he wouldn't know those things. She couldn't tell him.
“Fine, Rick,” Michonne managed to get out through the tears. “But I’m telling the truth. And I didn’t kiss him because I wanted to. I didn’t enjoy it, and I sure as hell didn’t fuck him. You know what, he bit down on my lip and he made it bleed. I didn’t ask him to. And I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about lying about feelings, but I never lied to you. EVER… about how I feel.”
Rick scoffed. “Yeah, right. That’s not what I saw. You were kissing him back. Stop. It’s not going to be like last time. I’m not going to stand here and listen to these lies.” Rick meant the situation with Lori. He wasn’t going to sit there and get fed bullshit. That wasn’t happening.
Michonne dropped her hands to the side. “Fine, Rick, don’t believe me.” Michonne shrugged. “Whatever I say, you won’t believe me. I’m not going to keep arguing with you. I fucking lied about going to talk to Heath. I was trying to stop him-”
Rick interrupted her. “Yeah, you stopped him alright. Great job. You fucked him in the process. Okay, to be fair, and I'm being nice about this one. You don't deserve to explain, but I'm letting you... tell me, why did you kiss him?”
“He made me.”
“He might have made you, but you enjoyed it.”
Michonne shook her head. “I didn’t.” She didn’t. It was the worst thing she had ever done.
“Why did he make you kiss him?”
“Because he knew it would cause a fight.”
“Well, if you didn’t like it, why the hell didn’t you walk away?” Rick asked her.
This was the part that Michonne couldn’t answer. “I couldn’t.”
“Why not?” Rick asked.
Michonne couldn’t answer. She knew it would make everything a lot better than it was, but Rick couldn’t even find out. Carl and Judith’s safety was on the line. She couldn’t or wouldn’t put them in danger.
“I just couldn’t.” She told him. Michonne looked at him and could tell he didn’t believe one word she was saying.
“Very funny, Michonne.” Rick said. “You didn’t want to kiss him, but you stayed there anyway and enjoyed it. That makes no sense to me.”
He was right. It didn’t make sense at all, but Michonne had to go with it. She HAD to make Rick believe her.
“Rick, you have to believe me. I’m telling the truth.” Michonne was practically begging him and it still wasn’t working.
Rick laughed. “I don’t have to do anything. Just tell me Michonne.. Did you ever love me?”
Michonne felt the tears going down her face. Why would he ask her that? He should know the answer, but Michonne didn’t know if he knew anything at all.
TWDTWDTWDTWDTWD
Carl looked at the clock. It was almost nine. Denise had already fed him dinner. He was starting to get worried about them. He was sure that they didn’t forget him... or did they?
“Denise?” Carl asked.
“Yeah?” She shouted from the kitchen.
“Can I go home? I’m starting to get worried about my parents. They should have came by now and I need to make sure Judith is okay at Carol’s. I’ll go straight home after I get my sister.”
Denise entered the living room and sighed. She thought Rick and Michonne would have been there to get him by then.
“It’s really late.” Carl said. “We usually have dinner about eight and it’s weird that they haven’t came and got me yet.” | c7029f1f5e9b42a8b9fe4754cdb7b5b0 | ['8081d89261d242dda667fc7e68b8ca3d'] | That night, Michonne fixed lasagna for dinner, which was also another one of Carl's favorites.
While she was fixing dinner, Michonne felt Rick's eyes on her the whole time. She "accidently" dropped a spoon and bent over to pick it up. She saw Rick staring at her ass.
Michonne cleared her throat and Rick jumped.
"Are you checking me out, Rick?", she asked as she smiled at him.
"Uh...", he started to say. He didn't think that she would actually catch him staring, but that's definitely what Rick was doing.
Michonne sat on the counter. "It's alright, Rick. I check you out too."
Rick walked over to her and stood between her legs and began to kiss her. After that, he began to kiss down her neck and collarbone.
Michonne started to lose her breath. "Rick?"
"Hmm?", he hummed as he kept kissing down her neck.
"I.. need to.. check on.. the lasagna", she told him out of breath. "It could burn."
Rick looked her straight in the eyes and said "Let it burn." He contined kissing her.
"I can't", Michonne told him. "We have to eat dinner."
Rick ignored her and traced her bottom lip with his tongue. The man was driving Michonne crazy and he knew it too, so she decided to play along. She kissed him and her tongue sought entrance into his mouth; Rick gladly accepted. Their tongues kept fighting for dominance until they heard Carl walking down the steps. Rick and Michonne broke away, but right before Carl appeared, Rick moved in for one last kiss.
"Is dinner almost done?", Carl asked her.
Michonne had actually forgot about the lasagna, so she hurriedly got it out of the over, hoping it hadn't burned. Michonne didn't want to tell Carl that his dinner had burned up in the oven because her tongue was down his father's throat. Literally.
Thankfully, the lasagna looked just fine. "Yeah, it's finished. Go get Judith", she told him.
Carl went back upstairs to get his little sister, and Rick closed the distance between them to try to kiss her again.
"Rick, we don't have that much time. Carl will be back down here in under a minute", she told him.
"That's enough time."
"Enough time for what?", she asked, with confusion in her voice. There would never be enough time for what she wanted to do with Rick Grimes. There were so many things she wanted to do to the man that Michonne would need an eternity, maybe even more than that.
"Enough to kiss you", he said as he began kissing her again. A few seconds later, they heard Carl again.
"See?", Michonne said as they broke away. "I told you."
Rick just stared at her.
They all sat down to eat. After everything was cleaned up, Michonne saw Carl carrying Judith up the stairs.
"I can get her", Michonne offered.
"No, it's okay. I got her. You and dad can have a night off tonight for a change. I'll change her and get her ready for bed, and all that."
Michonne walked over and kissed Judith's head. "Good night, Judith."
"You won't have to worry about me walking around. I'm going to sleep in Judy's room to make sure she'll be alright. If she gets up and cries, I can get her."
"Thank you, Carl."
"No problem", he told her as he walked away.
Michonne didn't know whether to be glad or embarrassed. She and Rick had the whole night to themselves, but Carl GAVE them the night off. Carl had never just gave them the night off. He basically did that, so they could fuck each other senseless. She figured that he knew they were going to do that anyway.
Rick walked in and asked where Carl was.
"With Judith."
"Why? Is she okay?", Rick asked, with concern in his voice.
"Yeah, Carl is giving us the night off", Michonne told him.
"What?",
"You heard what I said", Michonne joked.
"Why?"
Michonne looked at him. "Rick, you know why. He gave YOU and I the night off to do whatever we want."
Once Rick figured it out, his eyes widened. "Oh god. He knows?"
"About which part? You and I or sex? He's the one who helped us get together, and sex? If he knows all of this relationship advice, I'm sure he knows about sex. He's sixteen, not four."
"I know", Rick said. "This is just embarrassing. My son gave me the night off, so I can have sex."
Michonne knew this was the perfect time to joke with him. "What makes you think you're having any sex? Who are you planning on having sex with?
Rick's eyes widened even more; he thought she was serious. "Well.. I, uh, you and... I don't know", he stammered. Maybe he had been reading Michonne's signals wrong, but he thought that's what she wanted.
Rick began to get even more embarrassed and Michonne said "I'm kidding, Rick."
"Very funny", he told her. "So... you want to go on the porch and sit on the swing?"
Michonne nodded and they went outside; the night air was a little chilly. The two of them sat down and Rick grabbed her hand and interlocked it with his own.
"Rick, I have to admit", she started to say. "I thought the first place you would ask me to go to was your bed."
"That was definetly at the very top of my list, but I figured that I should be at least a little more romantic about it. We have the whole night, and I'm not just going to get you naked and have my way with you, and then go to bed. Besides, Judith probably isn't even asleep yet."
"Rick Grimes and romantic? I didn't think that you and romantic could go in the same sentence", Michonne joked.
He looked at her. "Yeah, Michonne. I can be romantic", he said with all seriousness. |
aaf05e48ef7b4fdcb2772a4579f8a42b | ['808a5624cd0f465ab2383d77511f4e8d'] | Dudley followed his Aunt dutifully through the _Flemings Furnishings_. His Aunt made a sharp turn when they came to a sign that Dudley barely had time to read before he was dragged past it. They had made winding turns past oddly shaped chests, and walked through a maze of beds, desks, and chairs before they finally reached a deep cherry desk in the back where a woman with bright blue winged spectacles on a chain, and emerald robes sat reading a book. She looked up when she heard footsteps approaching and stood up almost immediately.
“Lady Parkinson! Had I known you’d be coming I would have been up front to meet you!” She spoke over enthusiastically with red painted lips. Dudley thought she looked slightly foreboding. Her blonde hair was in a tight bun and she looked over her glasses with beady eyes. Dudley’s familiar Belladonna, newly named over lunch, meowed.
“Well to be truthful, I hadn’t known I was coming either,” Dudley’s Aunt said with a forced kind of smile. Dudley could guess there was bad blood here and shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Is Maggi here?”
“Unfortunately my _niece_ has just stepped out for lunch,” she forced out, “Took that _Half-Blood_ menace with her,” Aunt Jasmine’s lips pursed and she clenched her fists.
“Oh,” Jasmine gritted out.
“Don’t know what that girl sees in her!” She admonished with a huff. “Don’t know why she couldn’t’ve found a nice Pureblood girl, but enough of my ramblings, now what are you here for?” She said in an overly sweet voice.
“I am here to get furniture for my Nephew Dudley, if you would please,” she smiled but her eyes were icy.
“Oh, yes, yes!” The witch said turning and grabbing parchment and a quill. “Where should we get started?”
“Well, bedframes, we are furnishing a bedroom after all,” Jasmine said with a raised brow. “All furniture at the manor is cherry, so keep that in mind,”
“Right, right.”
-x-
When Draco woke he found Blaise preening himself in a handheld mirror. He groaned. Blaise always took the longest in the bathroom no matter what he said. Blaise had become increasingly worse with his bathroom habits after a certain Weasel caught his eye in the middle of first year. Draco, no matter how much he prided himself on his looks, would not subject himself to the horrors of Blaise’s morning ritual. With one last longing glance at the attached bathroom Blaise was currently making his way to, he slid out of room.
When he got to the commons he was glad he had the sense to change into something other than his silk pajamas because there were Slytherins milling about, he found his sister wearing a light blue cloak and her _Weird Sisters_ shirt, he caught her eye and she excused herself from Higgs.
“About time you woke up. It’s almost noon,” Alhena laughed and at the surprised face she received, added, “The second floor was flooded. Class was canceled today,”
Draco, relieved, went back to his dorm, loosening his tie as he walked. He took his cloak off and placed it on his bed with his tie and went back to his trunk. He pulled out an emerald jumper and pulled it over his head. He thought maybe he’d go bother Granger, Weasel, and Potter, or maybe he’d join Ascella were she was no doubt mulling around in the library, or possibly write a letter home, not that he really needed too, but Cas and Pol would be expecting one, so he’d write a letter anyway. He decided he would join his cousin in the library to write his letters home. He grabbed a roll of parchment, his favorite quill, and a pot of green ink, before walking out of the dungeons and towards the library.
Ascella, as always, had her nose buried in a book. Her mahogany hair was tied in a braid to her mid back and she was wearing headphones. Draco wondered what she was listening to, probably the Beatles. She was wearing a union jack tee shirt, faded and ripped muggle jeans, and black Converse sneakers. She suddenly stopped what she was doing and announced;
“The twins are up to something,”
Her eyes were looking ahead not seeing. She shook her head and looked up at Draco, pulling her headphones down to around her neck. The tell-tail melody of _Hey Jude_ came from her speakers. Draco had been right; she was listening to the Beatles.
“What’s up Draco?” She asked with a sideways smile, her scars caught the light and Draco remembered when her skin was pale and creamy like his. He knew she got them in primary school protecting Corvus and Lyra, but that’s all he knew, his cousins did not like talking about their primary school days.
Draco knew they were werewolves—born not bitten—so they could change form at all times, however dangerous on the full moon. Alhena had said something about Werewolves not harming other animals, but he hadn’t been paying attention, so the details were fuzzy. Alhena had also said something about Animagi, but again, he hadn’t been paying attention.
“Writing a letter home, mind if I sit with you?” Ascella shook her head and put her headphones back on. Draco pulled out a seat across from her and began composing his letter.
_Dear Cas, Pol, Father, and Père,_
_As expected, Rose, Dorea, and Astoria were sorted into Slytherin, Eileen however was sorted into Gryffindor, a rather surprising turn of events, don’t you think? If I had thought anyone to be Gryffindor, it would be Dorea, but the Sorting Hat knows best._ | 1743ff4f8ef24cdc9d93a1d0b2579473 | ['808a5624cd0f465ab2383d77511f4e8d'] | "Name's Dorea Potter," said the one in Slytherin green, her hand stretched out.
"Eileen Potter," the one in Gryffindor red quipped, hand stuck out in invitation just as her twin.
Hermione looked from Harry to the girls and smiled softly stretching out her hand and softly shaking each of their outstretched palms, "Hermione Granger,"
Ron looked at a loss for words and spluttered a "R-Ron Weasley," and shook their hands as Hermione had.
The two turned their heads to the newest addition to the table and smiled. The redhead smiled back, taking both hands in and shaking them.
"Ginny Weasley, I have a feeling we'll be best friends," she smiled at the twins and they nodded.
"Best friends," they agreed.
They then turned to Harry with giant smiles, eyes sparkling.
"Uhh-- I--I'm Harry," Harry said awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, "uh Harry Potter,"
"Duh," said Eileen.
"We already knew that Harry," Dorea rolled her eyes.
"Uh-- sorry? I didn't know I had sisters," Harry said feeling a bit more than overwhelmed.
"Well we knew we had a big brother!" Dorea said crossing her arms.
"Yeah! Papa told us all about you!" Eileen agreed crossing her arms as well.
"Papa?" Harry asked with a raised brow looking at his newly discovered sisters.
"Yeah you know, papa!" Eileen said looking to the head table and pointing to Snape. "See! Papa,"
" _Snape_!" Harry and Ron gasped incredulously.
" _Professor_ Snape," Hermione corrected, albeit scandalized.
"It's actually Professor Snape-Potter, but just Professor Snape is fine," Dorea corrected buttering her roll.
"Yeah, papa told us daddy was insistent that papa take the Potter name, but papa wanted to keep Snape, they ended up compromising though," Eileen continued, filling her plate.
Harry gulped, "Snape and dad-- I mean Snape is my dad, well other dad?"
"Yup!" Dorea said mouth full of her roll.
"Dorea Lily, I thought I raised you better than that, I swear you're almost as bad as your father and the mutt," a familiar voice drawled, you could almost hear the raised eyebrow that no doubt accompanied the voice.
With a scolded frown, much like when Ronald is scolded by Molly Weasley, Dorea turned around to face Snape. She swallowed and sent a apologetic smile.
"Sorry papa,"
Harry and Eileen also turned around and faced Snape.
"It's quite alright Dorea, just don't make a habit of it." He said "Salazar knows how hard I tried to get James and Sirius to stop with that nasty habit. I don't know how Remus stood having to eat with them," he said wistfully.
It was odd to hear such longing in the professor's normally cold voice, the tone and longing smile that accompanied it had the golden trio seeing the Potions Master in a new light.
They were not seeing the fearsome Dungeon Bat, they were seeing the man Severus Snape.
"Uh, hello professor," Harry managed through a tight throat.
"Hello Harry, I believe you've received some startling news to say the least. I also believe you will have some questions you'll want answered, you may come to my chambers, your sisters can help you find your way," professor Snape said with a glance to both of the twins before looking to Harry's two friends, "Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger may accompany you if you wish,"
"Uh-- yes--thank you sir," Harry blurted.
"Yes, very well, I shall see you later," professor Snape nodded before heading back to the head table, stopping only to fondly tussle Corvus Black's hair, hand his twin sister, Lyra, a small black book, and give an older girl a smile. The great hall, with the exception of the first years that didn't have older wizarding siblings, were staring in disbelief.
_Snape! Being nice?!? Hell has surely frozen over._
-x-
Severus Snape-Potter sat down at the head table with the rest of the staff, eyes straying to his children, and then his godchildren. Noticing the way (almost) all of the children in the great hall were looking at him he laughed and shook his head. He could almost hear James laughing about the priceless faces on the students. With a smile Severus began buttering his roll, sparing a glance at Minerva McGonagall.
"I do wish you luck dealing with not only Harry and Ascella but now Eileen, Corvus, and Lyra, pity you, having to deal with the marauders second coming," he laughed as Minerva's face paled as she realized just how many marauder progeny she had in her house.
"Dear Merlin, save us all," she muttered her face as pale as the Bloody Barren.
Albus Dumbledore smiled with a twinkle in his eye and said, "My, yes, I do believe it will be a fun year," his eyes were full of mirth. "Yes, a very fun year indeed,"
2. Settling In
**Chapter 2**
**Settling in**
Prefect Percy Weasley guided the Gryffindors to the portrait of the Fat Lady where he announced that the password to the commons was " _Wattlebird_ ".
Once in the cozy red and gold common room, Harry, and subsequently Ron, and Hermione, were introduced to the Blacks’ by Eileen.
"Harry! You should meet Lyra and Corvus Black!" Eileen stated dragging the two first years from earlier towards her brother and his friends.
"Oh, oka—" Harry was cut off by the redhead next to him.
"Why should Harry meet the Traitor's kids!? It's their dad's fault he's an orphan!" Ron spluttered.
"Ronald!" Hermione chastised.
"But we're not orphans! Daddy and Papa are both alive! And uncle Siri didn't do anything!" Eileen protested.
“Wait!—” Harry tried but was cut off.
"Look, kid, everyone knows Black ratted them out to You-Know-Who," some older boy said.
"Uncle Siri wasn't the secret keeper! It was that cunt Pettigrew!" Eileen fumed, and the lights began to flicker.
"Eile, it's okay," the brunette girl exclaimed grabbing Eileen's left arm that was reaching for her wand. |
2c8a55805e3547419c3f123af32e8b07 | ['808e5d05240442a891b6e1fe64c0da54'] |
**Author's Note:**
> This story can fit in where ever you want it. Got some smexing in it so bewares. Natsu's POV.
>
> Not Beta'd…Sorry if there are mistakes.
>
> Originally on FF.net, I finally got around to posting it here too. ;P
"Lucy, let's do something." Natsu pouted as he sat down. Lucy had been reading at the bar all day, at least she could do was talk to him. He could only fight with Gray so many times a day without incurring Erza's wrath.
"I'm reading, go play with Happy." Natsu scowled resting his head on the bar.
"He went with Wendy and Charlie on a job."
Next to him Lucy squirmed, glancing briefly at him before returning to her book.
"This is getting good, so let me finish." Natsu pouted again. Granted, the blonde liked to read, but he was bored, shouldn't he come first. It wasn't his fault there was nothing to do. Everything was the same was normal in guild, it even smelled the same as every day.
Wait….no it didn't. Natsu sniffed the air, looked around, and sniffed again. What was that? He was sure he had come across that smell before. Natsu sniffed once again, then blinked.
It wasn't the guild that smelled unusual, it was Lucy. Interesting.
Normally Lucy smelled of summer nights and ink from writing, or on occasion some of her flowery perfume. But this….this smelled of something more…wild…almost animalistic. It was a smell Natsu had never equated with the blonde mage.
Maybe her magic was acting funny? No. If it was that she probably smell more of the night air, more like the stars she called the spirits from.
Natsu frowned, then plucked her hand from her book and sniffed again. Lucy scowled and drug her hand back, squirming a bit again.
The source was defiantly not her hand. It had smelled mostly of old books and ink. Pretty normal. What was it? It wasn't like he had never smelt this before, he was sure. It was just something he had never equated with a person in particular to know what it was. He was sure it was something only girls smelt of though. The last time he smelt it, was when a large group of girls from the guild were all bunch together. But at that time he had not felt so…antsy before.
Natsu stood and walked around to Lucy's other side, sniffing again as he past her back, then sat down again. The Stellar mage rewarded this move with a raised eyebrow before returning to her reading.
Not her hair or back then. Her legs? This called for strategy, if he just sniffed her legs she would most certainly kick him then storm back to her apartment.
"Lucy, you are my best friend, you know?" Natsu smiled showing his fangs as he placed his hand on her thigh and squeezed a bit.
"What?" Lucy squeaked out, her face red, and eyes wobbling between his face and his hand.
"I said, you are my best friend, you weirdo." Lucy nodded vigorously this time then squirmed again, this time closing her book. Her shifting had sent another waft of the alluring smell.
So it was not her legs, but down….there.
Natsu smirked, leaning in towards the blonde girl, discreetly moving his hand up her thigh.
"Am I you're best friend too, Luce?" He smiled as she sputtered out a yes, her cheeks pink.
It wasn't as if he didn't know what the smell was now. He was a teenage boy after all, a teenage boy with heighten senses. This was just the first time he had ever equated the smell of lust with a girl, particularly with Lucy.
It didn't help that Lucy was…well Lucy. She was always pretty, she was tough, more so than she knew, and she loved the guild. Even while there were out on missions and she complained it was mostly for show. She would never abandon her friends, she would never abandon him.
Lucy squirmed again, but the friction of hand, caused her let out the softest of squeaks. Natsu felt his normally turbulent fire, pool at the bottom of his stomach. Natsu squirmed this time. That was not something he was used to feeling about Lucy. Natsu retracted his hand and looked at the book on the bar.
"What is your book about?" That was safe. Steer away from the tension that was sure to make Lucy uncomfortable with him. He had only meant to tease the weirdo, not feel so….wanting himself.
That however, was not a safe question like he had thought. Her face had, if at possible, turned more red, as she slammed the book against her chest. Her very perky, soft….damn it.
"It's nothing. Something Erza gave me to read." Her voice was an octave or two higher than normal as she looked at him.
Erza, hmmm. The last time he found a book that Erza was reading it had made him and Gray speechless. She had also beat them senseless afterwards. Better to not bring that up, but at least it made sense why Lucy had been already in this mood.
Natsu sniffed again, the smell was still there just as strong. Damn. If Lucy didn't calm down soon, he wouldn't be able to either, the smell was intoxicating. Fantasizing about burning your partners clothing off, so you can touch them all over, was not something Natsu was used to.
"I think I'm just gonna go to the library then." Natsu nodded, that would be good, a little space, then this would go away. He did not want claim the blonde mage right her on the bar, nope not at all. | 672ccc973f70429f899d971df235d8c7 | ['808e5d05240442a891b6e1fe64c0da54'] | "I didn't want to spend our Anniversary as a girl. I thought you wouldn't want me, though that appears not to be the case. I was just gonna wait until it wore off."
"You're insane, Scor. I want to be with you no matter what. Granted I like your chest less squishy and your bits dangling between your legs, but it's still you." Scorpius smiled widely, Albus approved, he was gorgeous.
"So how did you mix up the Gerti Root with the Root of Umbra, anyways." Scorpius eyes rolled at the comment.
"I wasn't paying attention. I was thinking of what to get you as a present." Albus laughed, could Scorpius be so silly. Always.
"Speaking of presents, here's yours." Albus reached to the side table picking up a black box. Scorpius's eyes widened.
"Will you marry me?" Albus paused, "After you change back."
Scorpius laughed and opened the box. Albus studied his face; the ring he had picked out was a thick bang in platinum with a black band running through the center, with inset emeralds and sapphires alternating.
"It's perfect and yes I'll marry you." Albus smiled as Scorpius glowed.
"So we gonna make use of this bed or do we have to wait for you to change back?" Scorpius laughed loudly and ground down again.
"You did promise me it would be amazing with you tonight." Albus barked a laughed and proceed to do just that.
**Author's Note:**
> Fin. |
f5d76dc68ed6455e89aae2d5dcca0dcd | ['809e0e86342d4a788e77c6ee4b2ab451'] | Date Night
**Author's Note:**
> Fluffy little ficlet for day 2 of Prompt Party
>
> Prompt 73
>
> Thanks for the beta AJ!
“Shit, shit, shit,” Robin cursed as he pulled out the now burnt to a crisp roast from the oven. He had ruined their date night. He should have stuck to his guns and done this out in the forest over an open fire instead of this _ kitchen _ . He glared at the oven. Now what? Regina was going to be home any moment and he had nothing edible for dinner. What was he going to do now?
He looked at the chicken, maybe he could save part of it... He pulled a knife and started to pull off the burnt pieces only to find more burnt pieces. Robin groaned and pulled open the fridge, what could he do in the next ten minutes that would save their night?
He spies the container of leftovers from last night. Maybe he can just make this look like it was something he did. Pulls out the chicken from it, there’s not much but it’ll do. And throws in the leftover broccoli into his overly watered down mashed potatoes. This is awful. Absolutely awful. But what else can he possibly do?
Robin scratches his head and opens the pantry locating the mini donuts and chocolate chips, _ at least dessert will taste somewhat decent _ . He’s just about to drop the chocolate chips in the bowl when he hears the door open. Regina’s home. Shit. This is going to be awful.
He quickly dumps the whole bag of chocolate chips over the donuts and races out to the foyer to great his perfect girlfriend. His girlfriend who will no doubt hate everything about this meal except the chicken she cooked herself last night.
Regina smiled at him as he walked over and dipped down to peck her lips,. “Milady, hope your day went well.”
She leaned up for another kiss, never really being able to get enough of this man,. “It was fine, good to be home though. And I’m starved, I can’t wait to see this special dinner you have been slaving over.”
Robin chuckled nervously,. “I wouldn’t hold it to your standards, but it’s edible.”
“I’m sure it’s great,” she rubbed his arm lovingly and walked into the kitchen with him. She bit her lip at the sight in front of her. “This looks…”
“I’m sorry, Regina, I really tried. But that bloody thing you call a cooking device is absolutely horrendous and ruined everything,” Robin spit out.
Regina laughed and cupped his cheeks pulling him down for a kiss. “Let’s just order a pizza.”
“I love you.” He scooped down, lifting her up onto the counter and kissing her deeply. Even when he was a royal screw up she made it all better. | 09978771532e4ba487953c33c9a0fa69 | ['809e0e86342d4a788e77c6ee4b2ab451'] | Henry Sr. looked up with a smile as his daughter walked into the room. "Grandson!" he replied with just as much enthusiasm, standing up to tap Henry's nose before looking at his daughter. "You look beautiful, honey." he commented and kissed her forehead, "Ready to go?"
Regina nodded slightly, biting the inside of her lip. She was trying her hardest to stay strong and not cry in front of her son, but she wasn't sure how much longer she was going to last. She hadn't been to Daniel's grave since she moved across the country, sure she would talk to him in the early morning hours when everyone was still asleep. She believed he was always with her but this was different. He was physically there. Six feet under, instead of standing next to her, watching their son grow up. The mere thought of it was making her want to double over. She looked at her father through unshed tears and nodded a little more firmly. "Let's go." she whispered and turned towards the door.
Henry Sr.'s heart broke watching his little girl. He could remember when she was the size of his grandson and how he had promised himself he wouldn't ever let anything hurt her. She was his pride and joy, his baby girl, but even he couldn't prevent the pain she was in right now. He followed her out and wrapped an arm around her. They walked over to the graveyard in silence.
Regina had picked up a couple flowers from a small shop on the walk over, barely saying a word. Henry had been quiet too, sensing something was up. He stayed cuddled up with his mom the whole walk over. When they walked into the graveyard they walked towards Daniel's grave stopping a few yards away.
"I'll wait here, honey. Bring Henry over when you want me to take him back home okay?" her dad told her, squeezing her shoulder slightly. He lowered his voice so only she could hear, "It's okay to cry, baby girl, you don't always have to be so strong."
Regina shut her eyes tight and took a deep breath, nodding to her dad and walked over the rest of the way until she got to the tombstone.
DANIEL NICHOLAS MASON
BELOVED SON, FATHER, AND FIANCE
1989-2013
Regina read his name over and over until finally setting the flowers in her hand on top of it. She set Henry down briefly before kneeling over the grass and sitting Henry on her lap.
"Momma?" Henry said looking up at his mother and frowning at the stray tears that had slipped out of his mom's eyes.
"Yes, baby?" she responded kissing the top of his head.
"Why are you crying?"
She smiled a little at her son and wrapped her arms around him tightly, "I just miss your daddy. This is where he's resting, honey. Do you want to say anything to him?" She asked, surprisingly keeping her voice from breaking.
"Daddy?" He said looking around, "Where?"
She patted the ground lightly, "Under here, remember how I told you that daddy went to live in heaven so he can," she closed her eyes as voice cracked, "watch over us." Regina finished resting her chin lightly on Henry's head, holding him close. "You can tell him how much you love him, what you've been doing, anything."
"Oh." Henry said and looked over at the tombstone, "I love you, Daddy. Momma and me are going on this big bus and Auntie Z is here and Grandpa and Grandma and Emma and Robin." Regina's stomach lurched when her son said Robin's name, she was sitting at her fiance's grave for the first time in years and she couldn't wait to see him before launching herself at another man. She had zoned back in long enough to hear the end of Henry's monologue to his dad, "... Lily plays with me all the time and I miss her. I'm almost four, Daddy, I'm a big boy. I miss you." He finished and turned towards his mom burying his face against her chest.
Regina held him tightly, letting her tears silently fall down her cheeks. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that she had to lose him before they could even get married. It wasn't fair that Henry had to go through life without his father, who was going to teach him how to throw a football or take him to boy scouts? None of this was fair.
All she knew was she couldn't get Henry's mood down because of what she was feeling. She turned towards her dad and signaled him to come take Henry.
"Sweetie, Grandpa is going to take you back to the house and you can have ice cream with him okay? I'll be back in a little bit." She told him softly as her dad reached them.
"Ice cream?" Henry asked with a sparkle in his eye.
Regina laughed slightly, "Yes, baby. Ice cream. Don't have too much though you don't want a belly ache."
"Okay, mommy." he replied giving her a kiss before reaching towards his grandpa. "Grandpa, ice cream!"
Henry Sr. picked up his grandson and sat him on his hip. He reached down to rub his daughter shoulder a little, "Stay as long as you need, Princess, we'll keep your son occupied."
"Thanks, Daddy," she said smiling slightly up at him as he turned to walk out leaving her alone with the man she was supposed to build forever with. |
59aa0a09788a484b94d9840e2c348691 | ['80d4c224df534322ae53929280718cfb'] |
Don't Take Him (Larry AU)
**Author's Note:**
> This is a one shot over the song Don’t Take the Girl by Tim McGraw. My mom loves the song and cries every time because she thought she was going to die the night she had me. Um. Its hits close to home for me I guess because I just want someone to love me like that one day.
> (And If you see *** that means its the start or end of a memory. Since you cant use italics here. :) )
Louis sat next to Harry, his husband’s hospital bed. There was a strong chance Harry wouldn’t make it. Harry had been on his way home after picking their daughter, Joanne (Joey for short) up from his mom’s after work when he had been hit by a distracted driver going through a stop sign. They hadn’t stopped and were going way too fast for Harry to get out of the way. It was a head on collision. Joey was going to be fine. She didn’t take much damage seeing as she was in the back seat and in a rear facing car seat because she was only a baby. The hospital did have to keep her over night to be sure she really didn’t have any damage. Louis felt ashamed to say it, but his daughter was currently the least of his worries. All he cared about was Harry living.
Louis had his head bowed and hand holding Harry’s limp one as he cried. Louis started praying to God, asking him to not take his Harry just yet. Louis was telling God to just take Louis instead. As long as Harry didn’t die.
As Louis cried and prayed he started remembering all of the other times he asked for someone to not take Harry.
***“Come on Mark! I’m ready to go!” an 8 year old Louis jumped around saying. He was tugging on his step father’s arm trying to get him to go faster. Louis was excited because it was the first fishing trip of the season. It’s been how many months since they last went. He was a little ball of energy anyway but especially when he got excited.
“Alright bud, how about you help me put the coolers and bait in the trunk and we’ll go, yeah?” Mark asked Louis. Louis nodded his head and grabbed one of the empty coolers and lifted it in. Mark put in the one full of lunch and the bait container as Louis reached to grab the last empty cooler. Mark was about to close the trunk when Louis looked down the driveway.
He was shocked to see the younger neighbor kid, Harry, standing down there with a fishing pole and a hat way too big on him. Mark noticed Louis staring and looked too.
“Oh hey Harry.” Mark greeted. “You look like you’re ready to go fishing too.” Harry nodded enthusiastically. Louis rolled his eyes. “Is your dad or someone taking you?” Harry shook his head and looked sad. “Do you wanna come with us then?” Mark asked. Harry looked up and beamed.
“Maaaark!” Louis groaned. “Do we have to?! He’ll just ruin it! If you wanna take someone else we can take Niall, Liam or Zayn. I’ll go call Niall now. I’ll even give him my sandwich!” Mark shook his head and walked over to Harry who had meandered a bit farther up the drive.
Mark crouched down to Harry’s 6 year old level and said, “Hey Harry, why don’t you go ask your mum if you’re allowed to go with us.” Harry nodded again and set his fishing pole down before running back to his house to burst through the door.
Louis huffed in anger as Mark walked inside to make another sandwich.
*** Louis has a ghost of a smile on his face as he remembers that moment. He was so mad about it. After they were out on the water Louis couldn’t stay mad at Mark so it turned out pretty fun. Louis still hated Harry but he did teach him how to fish properly. He couldn’t help but talk to Harry and have fun when Harry wouldn’t stop smiling. No matter how mad Louis was at first, he’s glad they took Harry.
As Louis remembers that first time he asks someone to not take Harry, he remembers the second.
***Louis and Harry were on their first date when some guy ran out and attacked them. Louis and Harry were just walking through town. There was just the one guy and Louis planned to take him on himself. The guy must have known this or something because he got Louis before he could think and knocked him down. Louis was struggling for breath and trying to get up as the man grabbed Harry by the bicep and held a knife to his throat. Harry would have been able to take him, even at 15, but with the knife at his throat there was no way he can. He couldn’t even swallow too largely or he’d have a knife in his throat.
“Here. Just take my money, my wallet, and my credit cards. Take it all. Here. Take the watch my grandfather gave me, take my car keys even. Just please sir. Don’t hurt him.” Louis was sobbing by the end because he couldn’t bear the thought of any harm coming to his Harry, even if it was their first date. Louis was the only one allowed to make fun of Harry. Louis took a liking to him a few years ago. Louis started crushing when he saw how adorable and cute Harry looked when he was surprised with a birthday party.
The man took the watch and cash before spitting at them, calling them some colorful names and running off.
*** Louis remembers how appalled and shocked Harry was when Louis offered all that stuff up. Louis told him it was because he cared about Harry and had for a long time. Harry kissed Louis right then and there and told him he would do the same. “Ya know. If I had a car and a credit card and watch from my grandpa and cash. But I don’t. So I’ll um. Just know I would if I had those things.” Louis remembers it perfectly because it was his first kiss and Harry just looked so beautiful.
Louis looked up to his husband’s broken and slightly bloodied form. This broke Louis all over again.
Louis finally calmed himself down and was about to get check on Joanne when harry heart monitor started to speed up. Louis got hopeful that he’d wake up.
Harry flat lined.
Louis was sobbing as he screamed for a nurse. At first he didn’t even hear himself yelling and he didn’t believe it. Louis couldn’t hear or feel anything. Louis was led to the corner of the room where he fell to his knees and begged God not to take his Harry. He’s sorry he was ever mean to Harry when they were kids. Louis asked God to take him instead, to make this Louis’ last breath, his last request. Just stop the beating of his heart and let Harry’s go on. Louis couldn’t imagine a world without Harry.
“Please God. Just don’t take Harry.” Louis whispered out loud.
The doctors worked on Harry for a full 20 minutes before his heart started beating again and Harry woke up. | ef799b17b0c44e3da3de2894b03916e7 | ['80d4c224df534322ae53929280718cfb'] |
A Dream is a Wish
**Author's Note:**
> This is what happens when you read too many Grimm fairytales. Enjoy :)
There once was a young boy called Dan. He had two parents and the best life you could imagine for a child or even yourself.
That was,
until he turned 10.
********************
The year Dan turned ten was the year everything changed.
Dan and his father had always been very close, as they were very close in personality and looks. Dan had always been able to trust his father with anything and everything under the stars. The two were especially bonded due Dan’s mother’s long absences. She was an ambassador for the King so she was always away on business. The fact that she was always in other countries doing business and making deals meant she was rarely at home sometimes. Dan knew she tried to be at home as much as she could but it was still hard when the demanding king always stole her away from him. He knew he was supposed to like the king and he knew the king was really nice and he was a great ruler, but he was also still a selfish child who loved and missed his mother.
One day while Dan’s mother was away on business for the king, his father fell ill. Dan and the house servant tried everything they knew to do to make him well again. Nothing would work. Dan’s father refused to see the kingdom’s doctor. They didn’t know what to do anymore. There was nothing left to try.
Dan’s mother returned just days before his father died. Dan had refused to leave his father’s side for at least a week other than to use the bathroom. He hadn’t eaten, slept, or done anything really. He stayed and prayed and talked to his father. He didn’t even greet his mother when she returned.
Dan’s father must have known it was time to go for he woke Dan up from his sleep by his bed. He knew he needed to tell Dan something very important because an awful change would come.
“Dan. Dan. I need to tell you something. My time is coming.”
“Father no. Just hold on a little longer. I’ve got a new medicine on the way. I know this one must work.”
“Dan it doesn’t work like that. I wish it did, but it doesn’t.” he rasped out.
“Father don’t. I need you!” Dan cried out.
“Dan. It is very important that you always remember to stay kind, brave, and loving. Things will not always be as perfect as they were, and not everyone is as kind as you. But don’t let that stop you. There will always be a need for loving people. I love you, Daniel. Never ever forget that.” His father whispered out.
“Father please!” Dan sobbed.
“Now go get your mother my dear child.”
“Father I love you. Please don’t leave me.”
“Go my son. I don’t have much time.”
Dan hugged his father one last time and ran out of the room to get his mother. He went to his room and laid on his bed and sobbed.
What would he do now that his father is gone? Who would stay with him during his mother’s leaves? He’s still just a young child. Would he get sent away to a strange family and left alone by his mother? How much would his life change without his dear father?
Dan thought of every scenario possible.
Except the one that actually happened….
Dan’s father had passed during the month of January and his mother had already remarried by October. Dan couldn’t believe it.
He was, however, excited about the fact he was getting two new stepbrothers to play with. They were named Chris and PJ. They were right around his age too. PJ was twelve and Chris was eleven just like him.
Everyone was so nice for about a year.
It all changed once Dan’s mother passed away while on business. Her carriage became disconnected and fell off a cliff and crashed going around a mountain. They were all still left with the wealth she’d been earning by working for the king. Not that Dan got any of it. His stepfather had been becoming more and more cruel towards Dan while his mother was gone on business.
Dan received only the scraps of food left after his stepfathers and brothers ate. He was forced to do all of the cooking and cleaning and since Chris and PJ no longer wanted to share a room, Dan was kicked out of his and given a place in the attic for his few belongings he was allowed to keep.
The problem with the attic was that it was generally too cold to sleep in for most of the year because the room refused to warm up at all. Dan was forced to sleep by the dying embers of the fire to preserve any warmth he had as he only had a thin sheet to sleep with along with his tattered and worn out clothes.
Seeing as Dan was only thirteen at the time and he was quite lonely and sad, he decided to give himself an oh so clever nickname. He called himself Dan is Not on Fire in his head because he slept so close to the embers, that he could easily just catch fire in his sleep. Not that he cared if it happened. He was so sad and depressed anything would be a great way out of this life. He didn’t want to die per say, he was just very okay with it.
This kept on as the boys got older. Dan’s conditions got worse and worse as no one in the house cared for him or loved him. He stayed true to the word he gave his father. Dan remained just as caring and loving as ever, even if he was very sad. |
0b5b20b71629430f94ebe483b785d96c | ['80de108a801b4ba8bd772191427208cd'] |
Not Even Boyfriends
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Happy Belated Birthday, Michelle! This is my first ever suchen fic and I hope you like it at least a little!
>
> Also, if you're curious to know what the Totoro cream puffs mentioned in the fic look like, click LINK
“ANYMORE? What do you mean no one has time for waterbenders anymore?” Joonmyun’s voice went just a notch louder than conversationally acceptable levels. Jongdae loved getting Joonmyun all riled up and he’d known him long enough that he knew all the right buttons to press.
“ _Everyone_ knows firebenders are superior,” Jongdae snorted. “They're fast and powerful and—”
“Please. The entire universe knows that waterbenders are the supreme ones. Subtle and strong, and besides, water puts out fire anyway,” Joonmyun eyed him in a positively sinister way.
“Well fire makes water evaporate so you wouldn't even get that far,” Jongdae sneered.
“I don't know what _subtle_ or _evaporate_ mean and I don't even care because EARTHBENDERS RULE, okay?” Yixing declared ferociously, tiny arms crossed over tiny chest. “Are you listening Uncle Joonmyun? Uncle Jongdae? Toph is way cooler than Zuko and Katara, okay?”
She was glaring at them. Like hardcore. Jongdae sneaked a look at Joonmyun’s face, and saw a bizarre mixture of sheepish and defiant. He had no doubts at all that he was wearing an identical expression. Yixing always managed to reduce them into indignant blobs of jello. Jello because no matter how much the two men tried to hold their ground, the little girl won almost every single skirmish. It was infuriating.
Jongdae was in the midst of formulating an argument in his head about how Zuko could scorch Katara and Toph’s asses when a man in a yellow apron appeared in the doorway. Dimples showing, Joonmyun's handsome older brother was not even trying to hide how amused he was by the whole situation.
“Your child is bullying us, Kim Myungsoo!” Jongdae complained, pointing at the recalcitrant eight year-old.
“Hyung, you need to explain to her that waterbenders are the only choice,” Joonmyun appealed to his older brother.
“I have no sympathy for either of you,” Myungsoo snorted as he untied the cheerful, primrose yellow apron he was wearing. He had been doing the dishes—in his wife's apron apparently. “The two of you started this idiocy when you introduced her to ATLA. You know, it _is in fact possible_ to watch the series without getting crazy competitive. I’ve been doing it for more than a decade. What happened with you two? How old are you now? Thirty? You've been fighting this ridiculous battle for ten years, and now you've passed this disease on to your innocent niece!”
“It's her own fault for not liking firebenders the most,” Jongdae grumbled.
“Who is the child here? Or should I say _children_?” Myungsoo asked as he gave both men a very pointed look.
“HYUNG!” The two men protested in loud, aggrieved voices.
“I rest my case,” he said as he picked Yixing up. Grinning affectionately at his daughter, Myungsoo kissed her cheek and she giggled, flinging her little arms around his neck. “Time for bed, Xing.”
“But uncles are still here,” she protested.
“They’re just leaving. They have to work tomorrow, too, you know? And _you_? You have school. Let's get you washed up and ready for bed,” Myungsoo told her gently but firmly as he let her down. She was getting too heavy now to carry for longer than a couple of minutes at a time.
“But Appaaaaa,” Yixing stuck out a quivering bottom lip.
“Nope, that pout won’t work on me. Your appa has seen it all. Say goodnight to your uncles.”
“Goodnight, Uncle Jongdae. Goodnight, Uncle Joonmyun,” Yixing said as she gave them slightly grumpy farewells and hugs.
“‘Night, kiddo,” the two men chorused as she took her father’s hand. Just as father and daughter were about to head for the stairs, an attractive woman began walking down them. With long wavy hair freshly washed, dried, and cascading halfway down her back, Sungjong was simply ethereal. She didn’t look a day older than twenty-five. Jongdae always found it hard to believe his noona had turned thirty-two this year—even though he’d known her since he was in diapers and had no reason not to believe it.
Sungjong gave Yixing a warm hug, and assured her that she’d be back upstairs for story time just as soon as she’d let her two uncles out.
“Bye, uncles!” Yixing yelled as she ascended the stairs with her father.
“It's not that I want to chase you off, boys, but. . .I'm chasing you off. I've got an early morning deposition to prep for and Myungsoo brought some work home too.”
“But it’s cold outside,” Jongdae grumbled.
“There is such a thing as body heat,” Sungjong pointed out reasonably. “You can always cuddle up to Joonmyun if your nuts are in danger of falling off.”
“I’m not a human space heater,” Joonmyun muttered darkly.
“NOONA!” Now Jongdae was yelling—not that it fazed his sister at all.
“Why are you shouting? It’s common sense. Anyway, you’re both missing the point. Time to get your coats and go do whatever it is thirty year-old bachelors do to have fun on weeknights.” Sungjong steered them towards the front door before opening the hall closet door so she could hand them their parkas.
“Thanks for dinner, noona,” Joonmyun said as he stuck his arm in one sleeve. “Even if you _are_ throwing us out now,” he finished with a chuckle.
“It’s for your own good! It’s only 9pm—go have fun! Pick up some girls or boys or. . .maybe each other?” Sungjong suggested it in the most casual way, like she was asking them to pick out their favorite doughnuts.
“Are you serious?” Jongdae gave her a look of horror. “Why would we?” | 0b3d7988d76544a19a3b08d87a9dedec | ['80de108a801b4ba8bd772191427208cd'] |
Masked
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> These stories all feature a kind of masked kink? Idk but I'm sorry orz.
The speakers have been pounding for more than an hour and Jongin's body aches all over. But it's a satisfying almost-pain because he's almost mastered the new choreo and this knowledge infuses his tired body with the little shots of adrenalin he needs to get him through the rest of the session.
He can't wait to hit the showers once they're back at the dorm, but for now, he can't keep his eyes off Joonmyun - hasn't been able to since he showed up for dance practice in a black face mask. He only wears masks when he's sick or when the managers insist on it and Jongin hopes it's not the former. But more than anything, Jongin wants to be the one to remove the mask. Or maybe he won't remove it at all. Then he curses himself again for bringing his thoughts in that direction.
_Just think of ice cold water. Ice cold water. Freezing ice cold water. Kim Jongin you can make it through this without attacking hyung in front of everyone_...
••---••
Joonmyun had been more tired than usual the night before, and had crawled into bed at 9.30pm - the time he usually had his last cup of coffee and settled down for an hour or two of Minecraft. Sitting up in his own bed, Jongin had attempted to read Keigo Hinashigo's latest novel, his eyes flicking up every now and then to check on his slumbering roommate, slash, boyfriend. Arms flung over the edge of his mattress, eyes shut, and lips pouting slightly, Joonmyun resembled a sleeping child and the image made Jongin's heart contract just a little. He tried to focus on the book he'd propped up on his pillow but his eyes kept wandering and after twenty more minutes of distracted reading, Jongin switched off the lights and climbed into bed beside Joonmyun, shifting his limbs and body towards the wall to make space for himself.
Fingers sweeping soft vanilla blond hair aside, Jongin's lips brushed the pale smooth skin of Joonmyun's forehead.
"What time is it?" Joonmyun asked groggily as he instinctively turned his body towards Jongin's, snuggling against his hard warmth.
"Just after ten." Jongin smiled as Joonmyun's lips slipped gently over his, and his hand slid slowly over Jongin's back. As their tongues teased each other lazily, Jongin's arms pulled Joonmyun closer. His skin was a little hot to touch and his mouth, more than a little.
"Do you have fever, hyung?" Concern had crept into Jongin's voice as he placed his palm over Joonmyun's forehead.
"I don't think so. I just feel tired. So tired, Jongin." Joonmyun burrowed closer and Jongin told him to sleep as he stroked his blond hair over and over till his own eyelids grew heavy.
When Jongin had opened his eyes that morning, the sunlight pricking his face as it poured through the blinds, it was to find nothing but empty sheets beside him. There was a square of creamy paper on the bed stand, right next to his glasses: _early meeting with manager hyungs. See you at dance practice at 10! ♤_
Joonmyun always signs off his untidy scrawl with a drawing of a spade. Joonmyun insists he isn't cheesy but Jongin knows they had their first kiss over a game of poker - Jongin's sneaky way of stealing a kiss from a reluctant hyung. His ploy had worked and the winning card had been an ace of spades. Even though Joonmyun had complained that Jongin had cheated, he'd still allowed Jongin to claim his kiss (and his heart) that night, and he'd always signed off his notes to Jongin with a spade ever since.
Joonmyun likes to think he's not cheesy but Jongin knows otherwise.
••---••
When Joonmyun had walked into the practice room two minutes before the session began, half his face concealed by a triangle of black fabric Jongin had never seen before, he'd had to catch his breath as a solid wave of desire crashed into him, spreading all the way to his groin. His eyes looked more intense now that half his face is obscured, and the contrast between his blond hair and the black mask was making Jongin feel things in convenient places. He'd seen Joonmyun in white face masks plenty of times and hadn't been affected, so he couldn't explain why this black one affected him this way. Thank God he'd worn loose black workout pants today, Jongin thought as he tried to will his boner away by imagining himself plunging into ice cold water.
"Why do you look like someone just kicked you in the gut?" Baekhyun swatted him with his towel.
"Something I ate." Jongin lied and Baekhyun gave him a skeptical look.
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were thinking about jumping Joonmyun hyung's bones right here right now."
"What the hell, Baek?!" Jongin hissed.
"Well do a better job of not drooling then," Baek gave him a smug grin and Jongin gave him the finger.
"You don't look so good." Sehun poked his cheek a few minutes later.
"I'm F.I.N.E." Jongin glared.
"Well, you look like SHIT," Sehun retorted, clearly affronted by Jongin's snippy attitude. |
7f08b83276834995acf7df66572e653a | ['80e158f309684685a675af5432121845'] | Eren, once again, got up from the couch and walked to his dvd shelf. Browsing through the movies, he grabbed the first thing he saw and popped it in his dvd player. Before taking his seat took the necessary measures to prevent a glare appearing on the tv. He walked back into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of chips plopped next to Levi on the couch.
-
The movie seemed to go on forever. They were about halfway through the film and neither of them had said a word. Levi could tell there was something off about Eren and it made him nervous, while Eren continued to try and summon the courage to tell Levi how he felt. Eren reached for the the pack of cigarettes on the coffee table.
“Give me one of those,” Levi said as he grabbed the pack out of Eren’s hand, their skin making contact for the first time that day. Levi briefly felt how sweaty Eren’s hands were and he glanced at his face. Eren avoided eye contact as he lit his cigarette and passed the lighter to Levi. _‘If he’s going to ignore me then why did he invite me over?_ ’ Levi thought while taking a long drag from his cigarette.
They continued to watch the movie in silence. Both continued unconsciously smoking cigarette after cigarette until the room got so smokey they realized they’d forgotten to open a window. Eren put a fan in the window to let the smoke out and lit a few candles to try and cover the smell. As the movie credits began to roll, Levi got up to use the bathroom. He stood in front of the mirror and gave himself a mental pep talk. ‘ _Just go out there and ask him already,_ ’ he repeated to himself.
While Levi was in the bathroom, Eren paced around the living room. ‘ _I can make-out with him, sing for him and say dumb flirtatious things, but I can’t just ask him to be my boyfriend? It shouldn’t be this hard_ ’ he thought. ‘ _Then again I’ve never asked anyone out. I’ve always been the one asked out..._ ’
Levi looked at his phone to check the time. It was getting late. It was now or never. He took a deep breath and walked out of the bathroom. As the door opened, Eren quickly turned his gaze towards him. They both walked towards each other until they were about two feet apart.
“I-,” They both spoke at the same time.
“Sorry. You go first.” Eren said. Levi took another deep breath and on the exhale everything came out.
“Go out with me.” The words flew out of Levi’s mouth. Eren’s eyes opened wide in surprise. Levi noticed and became worried that it was a bad expression, so he continued to ramble on. “I find you very attractive and we’ve spent so much time together I think it’s time-!” He was cut short by lips firmly pressing against his own. Eren had grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him in. When Eren let him go, they made eye contact.
“So is that a yes?” Levi grinned. Eren shook his head ‘yes’ as he went in for another kiss, this one more aggressive. Eren wrapped his arms around Levi’s neck as he slowly walked forward to trap Levi against the wall. Levi placed his hands on Eren’s waist and pulled him as close as possible. Eren dragged his teeth along the shorter man’s bottom lip before biting down and pulling it back. Levi let out a groan, his right hand subconsciously moving under Eren’s shirt. Eren felt a jolt of electricity run through his body as the hand made contact with his skin.
When they broke away from the kiss Levi thought it was time for a little payback. He kissed down Eren’s jawline and down his neck before latching onto a patch of skin right in the middle of his neck. He sucked on the skin, unaware of how rough he was being. Eren squirmed at the sensation and let out a moan that was louder than he expected. This encouraged Levi to continue sucking and biting down. He came back to his senses when Eren grabbed onto his shoulders and pushed him against the wall.
“Spend the night,” Eren panted. Levi didn’t even respond as he grabbed his phone out of his pocket and sent a text to his step-brother, telling him he needed to get away from the house for the night and to cover for him. He hit send, shoved his phone back into his pocket, and instantly went in for another kiss. Eren wrapped his arms around Levi’s waist and steadily lured him into the bedroom. Levi was unaware of his surroundings until he felt something touch the back of his knees. As he opened his eyes, he felt Eren push him backwards and fell onto the bed without protest. The cast of a faint light over the dark room helped Levi to see the sight in front of him. Eren’s cheeks were painted red, his eyes glazed over with lust. Levi let his eyes travel up and down Eren’s figure, eyes catching on obvious tent that Eren was pitching. He watched as Eren’s eyes slowly traveled down his body, easily picking up on Levi’s own arousal.
Feeling embarrassed, Levi covered his crotch with his hands. Suddenly, Eren dropped to his knees and slid his hands up Levi’s thighs, spreading them apart. | f91fc6cb13c0494da85fb33fd3c51386 | ['80e158f309684685a675af5432121845'] | “Whenever you can walk on your own.” Levi put his pen down and looked over at me. “I don’t want you to think I’m trying to keep you away from your friends, Eren. I’m just not sure you understand what’s going to happen when you see them after everything.”
“What do you mean?” I questioned.
“Eren, after an alpha and omega connect for the first time; the vibe that used to come off the omega disappears. Any kind of smell you also may have had is also gone. Essentially what happens is you become marked.”
“Meaning you rubbed your sent off on me.”
“Correct.”
“What does this have to do with seeing my friends?”
“Not only does my sent get on you, but others will be able to tell that you have someone who’s keeping a very close eye on you and might be afraid to come around you. Since Kirstein already told the whole goddamn castle about what happened everyone knows it’s me and they don’t want to even think about what I’d do if they try to lay even a finger on you. Hange told me when they first came to give you a check up they didn’t even want to step foot through the damn door. I guess my mark is more powerful that I thought it’d be.”
It now made sense why Hange was on edge the entire time they were giving me a check up. If the mark made Hange feel that way I can’t even imagine how my friends would react. I sank down into the bed and pulled the blanket over my head without saying a single word. I heard Levi sigh deeply as he shuffled through more paperwork.
The next day I felt good as new. Much to Levi’s disagreement he came to terms with me wandering the castle. He left the room before me as I tighten up my harness and shoved my feet into my boots. I walked by the window to see if I could catch sight of Mikasa or Armin walking the grounds. It was still early so they must have been in the mess hall. I dashed out of the room and made me way down the hall.
A part of me hoped that what Levi told me last night was a lie. As I walked down the hall I was met with many staring eyes. People would see me coming and instantly either turn the other way or avoid me completely. Someone accidentally bumped into me and as soon as our eyes made contact I could see their fear as they quickly moved away from me. I wanted to just go back upstairs and hide, but I had to see my friends. As I approached the mess hall I heard familiar voices behind me.
“Eren!” They shouted in unison. I turned around to see Armin and Mikasa begin to approach me before Mikasa suddenly stopped walking. Armin turned to look at her.
“What’s wrong?” He asked. I slowly walked over to them and the closer I got the further away Mikasa moved.
“Mikasa?” I questioned. She had a pained look at her face.
“Eren, I,” She hesitated to get out. “Are you ok? Did he hurt you?”
“I’m fine.” I replied. I stood a few feet away from her.
“To be mates with that shorty.” She lashed out under her breath. She looked over at me. “I just want to make sure you’re making the right choice.”
“It’s okay. Really. You don’t have to worry about me. Levi- I mean Captain Levi’s been taking good care of me and is making sure I get all the necessary medical treatment. You’d be surprised how caring he is under that tough exterior.” I smiled softly at her. I could tell she was feeling a bit more relaxed.
“If you’re happy then that’s all the matters.” She sighed. “I have to go. It’s affecting me too strongly.”
“Wait!” I reached out towards her, but she moved passed me and walked into the mess hall leaving me and Armin standing outside.
“What was that all about?” I asked him.
“Ah, well you probably heard, but we all got retested.” Armin said.
“What about it?” I didn’t understand what he was getting at.
“Mikasa is an alpha.”
“What?!” At first I was surprised, but then it all made sense. She did get top of our class. “Then what are you?”
“Um, well,” Armin hesitated. He whispered out an answer, but I could barely hear him.
“Say that again?”
“Omega.” He spoke quietly.
“Oh.” I replied awkwardly.
“The marks the alphas place on their partners don’t affect us. It’s just a warning to other alphas. Some betas can also get affected by it.”
“Are you ok?” Armin seemed a little nervous.
“I’m fine! I promise. I just…To be an omega….Was it awful?” He asked. I could see his face turn slightly red.
“It was a nightmare.” I was honest with him. “But when Levi came I knew it everything was going to be okay. Does anybody else know that you’re an omega?”
“Just Mikasa and squad leader Hange. It’s not safe to tell others. They gave me medication to prevent my heat from happening, but there is still that part of me that’s worried.” I reached out and patted Armin on the shoulder.
“Hey, it’ll be fine. You can’t let it keep you down. I mean, everybody in the whole castle knows what happened with me and Captain. Yet here I am about to walk in that room where they will all stare at me; whispering about me amongst themselves.”
“I don’t know how you can do it.” Armin chuckled. |
f5c04cbdff5548919ebcc21978acd442 | ['80e446a04c9e4ca0939f0c61130308c1'] | “How is it you’re always so calm?” He asked. James smiled.
“Magic.”
Thomas laughed.
A few doors down, a heart monitor cut silent.
Chaos ensued.
4. Chapter 4
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> there, a longer chapter
Alex woke up to doctors rushing in and out of a room and monitors in his room beeping. He tried to sit up but found he couldn't. Groaning, he sank back into the pillows, and looked around for a recognisable face.
Then two people walked into his room, hand in hand. Alex craned his neck to see who they were, and felt a small smile spread across his face.
"Alex!" Eliza beamed. Alex smiled at her.
"Hi, Eliza. And..." He smiled at the other girl.
"This is Maria," Eliza said, squeezing the other girl's hand.
"Hi.." Maria said, glancing at Eliza, who gave her a reassuring smile. Eliza sat in one of the chairs by Alex's bed and gestured for Maria to do the same. She sat beside Eliza, reaching for her hand again.
"So.. have you gone to see John yet?" Alex asked.
Eliza hesitated and then shook her head.
"No. We.." she paused. "We were planning on seeing him earlier, but the doctors wouldn't let us."
Eliza hated lying. She thought it was wrong, that it only caused trouble. But she felt like she had no other choice in this situation, not now at least.
"But didn't-" Maria started. Eliza quickly cut her off.
"But Laf seems to be well enough, just sort of shocked."
Alex gave her a weary smile.
"That's good. They always seem to be good at dealing with stuff like this." He mused, and Eliza nodded. Maria frowned but didn't object. Alex smiled at her.
"How do you know 'Liza?" He asked.
"Well.. she's my girlfriend." She smiled a little. Alex beamed.
"That's great." Alex grinned. Eliza gave him a don't-you-dare-bring-it-up-look. Alex chuckled.
"I dated 'Liza for a while." he started. Eliza groaned.
"Did you?" asked Maria. "You two are pretty close for an ex-couple, as far as I can tell." she mused. Alex chuckled.
"Yeah. But I'm warning you now, when she says she'll be ten minutes, be prepared to wait half an hour."
Maria cracked a smile.
"I'm pretty sure most girls are just like that." She said, and Alex shrugged.
"I'm dating John," he said with a grin. Eliza bit her lip.
"But I thought-" Maria said. Alex blinked.
"What?" he frowned.
"I thought Laf wanted us to come back," Eliza interjected. "Didn't they say they wanted us to help them with Herc?" Maria nodded.
"Oh yeah." she stood up, and Eliza followed suit.
"Seeya later Alex." she said.
"Bye." said Maria.
Alex grinned.
"See you! Tell me if they let you see John, okay?" he said.
Eliza felt her chest tighten.
"Sure."
5. Chaper 5
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> im sorry
Dr. Hansen had delivered this news to many people, many times before. She couldn't understand why this felt different. The news always filled her with dread and a feeling of uselessness but never this... this was something new. For the first time, she felt as though she shouldn't be telling someone. But she pressed ahead anyway. Opening the door to the young man's room, she silently begged he would be asleep. But he was awake, and he looked up at her with sparkling, hopeful brown eyes. She gritted her teeth.
"Hello.." she said. The guy beamed at her.
"Hi! You are the doc treating John, aren't you?" He asked. She nodded.
"Yes.."
The man smiled wider.
"Nice to meet you!" he said brightly. "How's he doing, anyway..?"
Dr. Hansen bit her lip.
"Well..." she started. The guy's smile faltered a little.
She took a deep breath.
"I'm sorry.. but..." This was harder than ever. "He passed away early this morning..."
The look of horror that crossed the man's face made her regret everything. His eyes filled with tears, and he was clearly fighting them back.
"N-no!" He protested. "He c-can't have...! Yo-you're lying!" he yelled. She dipped her head.
"I'm sorry."
The guy let out a heart-wrenching sob.
"No!" he wailed. "NONONONONONONONONONO"
Dr. Hansen silently left the room.
Alex couldn't believe it. John couldn't be dead. He just... couldn't. He stared down at his hands, vision blurred by tears. This couldn't be happening. The one person who'd always cared, the one person who was always at his side...
Gone.
"Why..." he whispered. "Why is the world so cruel to me.." | c0737f827e9b4f2382c13bda3964383e | ['80e446a04c9e4ca0939f0c61130308c1'] |
1. Chapter One
**Author's Note:**
> Im sorry this is short.
John Laurens awoke to a loud banging at his bedroom door.
"What..?" he groaned, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
"Thought you said you'd be gone by today." His father's sharp tone took a moment to register with him. Then he remembered.
"Right. Sorry..." he hesitated. "Mr Laurens."
It felt odd, using his own surname to address his father, or rather, the man who used to be his father. He got up, and changed into a plain white t-shirt and sparkly grey tracksuit pants. After adjusting his rainbow flag pin, he threw on a cardigan and opened the door, every movement racking his body with pain. He stumbled over the suitcase that had been deliberately placed in front of his door.
"Fuck.." he muttered, regaining balance.
His father was waiting by the front door. Henry Laurens was not a particularly menacing man in any aspect. He was quite short, and somewhat pudgy. But to John, he was someone to be feared. The scars on his arms reminded him of that every day.
"Should I drive you?" Henry's tone was dull and bored sounding. John shook his head.
"I'll take a taxi. I seem to have exhausted my time here already." He responded bitterly.
And with that, he stepped out of the house, and shut the door. Pulling out his phone, he called his boyfriend, and sat down on the kerb.
“Hey.” said John into the phone.
“Hi. Time for me to pick you up?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be there soon.”
John hung up, and waited. His hands ached to draw something, but he knew they’d bleed if he even tried. So he just sat and stared at the asphalt, trying to keep his mind off the last few days.
After what seemed like forever, a silver Honda drove up and parked in front of the house. John jumped up, sending pain surging through his body.
“Shit….” he hissed.
A short boy with a silky dark ponytail got out of the car, and approached John, who threw himself into the boy’s arms.
“Alex!” He exclaimed in delight.
“Hi John.” Alex laughed.
John spun him around, and everything seemed to fill with a golden light.
“I love you Alex.” John said warmly.
“I love you too.” Alex replied, leaning in. John shook his head hurriedly, pulling back.
“Not now… my dad..” he hissed. Alex nodded.
“Sorry, I forgot. Come on, let’s go.”
Alex took John’s hand, and John wheeled the suitcase across the path.
“You’re limping…” murmured Alex. John shrugged, and opened the car door.
He didn’t expect to be met with a roar of noise.
He looked at Alex questioningly, to which Alex just shrugged, a wide smile spreading across his face.
2. Chapter 2
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> So basically i finally got an idea of what I want to happen.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> dont kill me, i dont know what I'm doing.
> also apparently I am unable to write long chapters.
“JOHN!” Yelled Hercules, jumping out of the car. Alex laughed. Lafayette beamed, practically knocking John over with a bear hug. John winced, but hugged them back tight.
“Hey now, let him breathe!” Laughed Herc. Lafayette grinned bashfully.
“Sorry mon ami.” They apologised. John smiled. “It’s all good.”
Alex grinned.
“Come on you lot, get in the car!” he laughed, nudging John. John smiled, but he felt blood start to seep through his shirt. Praying Alex wouldn’t notice, he wheeled his suitcase around and heaved it into the boot of the car.
“John?” Alex’s voice came from behind him.
“Yeah?” Responded John.
“You’re bleeding…” Alex sounded worried.
“Oh.”
“Why’re you bleeding?”
John sighed.
“Long story.” He looked up, the sky was dark and cloudy, a storm looming.
Alex looked too, feeling a sense of dread fill his stomach, but he brushed it off.
“Get in the car John..” he tried to hide the slight tremor in his voice. John nodded, and climbed into the passenger seat. Alex got into the car and started it up.
As they drove, it started to rain. Alex looked kind of uncomfortable, but said nothing. The rain got harder, and thunder rumbled.
“Alex, if you want, I can drive.” John offered. Alex shook his head.
“Alex, I know how you are about storms..”
Alex shook his head again. “It’s fine John.” He replied.
The rain got harder still, and it was getting hard to keep the car driving in a straight line.
Another car was coming up on the other side of the road. Alex stared ahead trying not to think about the rain. The other car got closer, and thunder rumbled once more.
Lightning flashed, and a startled Alex lost control.
The car skidded, collided with the other car and flipped on its side.
The last thing Alex remembered was flashing lights and sirens.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> cLiFfHaNgEr
>
> im sorry please love me
3. Chapter 3
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> I'm sorry it's so short.
> I promise the next one will be longer.
James Madison woke up in a hospital bed. Looking around dazedly, he saw Thomas sitting in a chair beside his bed, expression miserable.
“Wh-ere…?” he asked, voice trembling.
Thomas’ face lit up.
“Jemmy!” he exclaimed, “You’re awake!”
James smiled groggily.
“Ya-huh.”
Thomas planted a kiss on his forehead, making James blush.
“What happened..?” He asked, smile fading a little. Thomas’ expression darkened.
“Some idiot freaked out and swerved across the road. I think they were worse off than us though.” He growled. “Serves them right. Jeez, the way that guy was driving. It’ll be a miracle if he’s even alive by the time I’m through with him.” He scowled.
James shook his head.
“Thomas, chill. I’m not badly hurt, nor are you. If they’re worse off than us, just be grateful that we’re okay. Don’t wish anything upon them.”
Thomas grinned. |
48dc227d85934cda94bd879650a85d52 | ['80f2cd593c19425fa62bc4cc832ea587'] | Thorin wrapped his arms lightly around the machine, trying to calm it so it’s breathing and heart rate would return to normal before it hyperventilated or went into shock. He did the only thing he could at the moment, he held it.
_........human._
3. Chapter 3
The Humanoid stood in the middle of the storeroom, it’s eyes following Thorin as he circled it, looking it up and down. The android’s breathing had calmed and it had released him and stepped back to stand alone. Thorin broke the silence.
“Do you have a name?” He asked. The Humanoid responded with a quick NO.
“What did they call you?”
“I am Model Number T5354, Stock 985, German Division Limited Release.” It recited those words with ease, standing up straighter as it spoke them. So it was German? Thorin raised an eyebrow, the thing might be worth much more than he had thought.
Germany had fallen during the sickness, just like most of the Old World. The land itself was still there, but the government and the people were completely wiped out. The language wasn’t even alive anymore, the few immigrants who had managed to make it out of the country before the sickness had died out, their children not seeing any point in holding onto a dead language of a country they would never return to. The Humanoid was not just a relic of human craftsmanship, it was a relic of a fallen country. This opened the market for Thorin’s potential buyers. Not only would the Humanoid collectors be interested, but now the German scholars would pay dearly for a chance to own the creation.
“Did you live in Germany? Can you speak German?” He walked behind the Humanoid and sat down at the table that his father’s blueprints were lain down upon. The Humanoid’s back was facing him, and it did not turn, but rather kept it’s back straight and responded to him clearly.
“I was manufactured in Germany. My testing was completed there and I did a short stay of service within the production grounds before I was shipped to Boston in the United States. I speak fluent German, as well as 4,000 other separate languages and dialects.” Thorin was leaning forward in his chair, he noticed a pack of cigarettes sitting on an old speaker next to him. He reached for the pack and removed a single smoke. He began to skim the room for a lighter or a match.
“Fantastic. I’ve never heard German before, you might just be one of the last who can speak it.” The Humanoid turned it’s head towards Thorin and it’s body slowly followed. It made no move to close the distance between itself and Thorin, instead it studied him from afar. The man was taller than it stood, built thickly and heavily muscled. His skin was a healthy golden colour, with black hair past his shoulders. The Humanoid had already memorized the dark blue eyes, and the thick eyebrows. He was not an unattractive man, most likely in his late twenties or early thirties. What was he doing, looking for something? The Humanoid began to scan the room and in no time located a silver lighter sitting on the shelving units to his left. It grasped it and walked towards Thorin. It sank down in front of him so it was sitting on it’s knees, lifting the lighter to Thorin’s cigarette and flicking a low flame. Thorin lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply. He looked down upon the Humanoid’s face.
_So what do we do now?_
“T5354, what were you created for exactly? You had to have been a custom job. What was your function?”
“I was ordered as a companion unit. My function is to provider my Master with conversation as well as entertainment. I am also skilled in most household duties. Cooking, cleaning, sewing... among others”
“Entertainment?” Thorin grasped the Humanoid’s chin gently with his hand and tilted it’s head from side to side, admiring the craftsmanship. “What kind of entertainment?” The android followed the force of Thorin’s hand to a T, offering no resistance.
“I can sing. I can read both literature and music, and am skilled in playing various instruments. I am versed in card and board games of many different styles. I am programmed with hundreds of plays and operas that I can perform in their entirety.” Thorin released the Humanoid’s face, he sat back in his chair and continued to smoke while taking in the android’s words. It remained kneeling on the floor, it’s face had turned back towards the him and it’s eyes were glowing slightly in the dim light.
“I can produce most styles of media, including painting and sculpting. I am programmed for sexual performance and release. I can perform several different styles of dance, including ballet, ballroom dancing, swi......” The Humanoid continued to rattle off forms of entertainment, Thorin was overwhelmed by the wealth of knowledge that was crammed inside the creation. He knew that they were computers, but holy shit. After the list seemed to come to an end, he spoke.
“That’s a long list. Sexual performance and release, huh?” He lifted an eyebrow and reached out for his cigarettes again. Without requiring a command, the Humanoid lifted the pack and pulled a cigarette out. It brought the object to it’s lips and lit the end, drawing in only slightly but not inhaling. Once it was lit, it leaned forward and placed the cigarette gently between Thorin’s lips. He noticed that the machine did this simple act with an almost ritualistic method, every movement was pleasant to watch. It reminded him of when he was young and had begged his parents for a bright coloured tropical fish he had seen swimming in the pet store, he felt like he could watch it’s movements for hours. | 6bfa26867ed946ef84b6ddb1f54449e3 | ['80f2cd593c19425fa62bc4cc832ea587'] | “Yeah. The pressure is getting kinda insane. I can feel him squirming around in there. He...she wants out.”
“She’ll be out soon enough.” Oropher walked forwards and rubbed Thranduil’s stomach gently with his hands. He looked into his son’s eyes.
“Do you want something to drink maybe? Galadriel said I should make sure you’re hydrated.”
Thranduil shook his head and leaned his back against the counter, trying to relieve some of the discomfort he felt. Oropher reached into the fridge and took out a new jug of fresh orange juice that he had picked up that morning. Extra pulpy, just the way he and his son liked it. Chunky enough you almost needed a spoon to eat it. He opened up a cabinet and grabbed two glasses, and was pouring a large glass for Thranduil when he heard a sharp intake of breath behind him. He turned and saw him slouching forwards against the counter, grabbing onto his stomach with one hand, the other gripping his now sopping wet crotch through the loose, grey skirt he had bought for this very moment. He lifted his hand up, staring at the slick wetness coating his fingers.
“Oh. Oh! Ada!”
Oropher dropped the jug of juice on the counter and took two long steps until he was standing at his son’s side. He lifted Thranduil into a standing position and called out into the living room.
“Galadriel! Help!”
Thranduil had started to shake a bit, his hands jittering nervously as he stared at the murky liquid running down his palm.
“A-A-Ada....Ada...” Oropher gripped his son’s hand tightly with his own, feeling their skin squish together. He felt his stomach clench slightly as his brain tried to get him to think about what he was touching, but he pushed it away, knowing that there was definitely more to come. Thranduil’s fear flooded into his blue eyes, and Oropher started to fell his own courage faltering. Luckily for them, they weren’t alone.
“Okay Thran, calm down. I can see you shaking from here.” Galadriel’s voice filled their ears, calm and cool and collected. She walked towards Thranduil and turned him around to face her. He saw his brother breathing hard, his hand protectively wrapped around his stomach. She placed her hand on top of his and smiled calmly into his eyes.
“Tell me what happened Thranduil. What are you feeling?”
“I...I...I felt, felt warm. It’s...it..it’s like I pissed myself.” Galadriel let out a small laugh and put both of her hands up to his face.
“It’s okay, Thranduil, your water broke. That’s a good sign!” She stroked her fingers soothingly over his forehead and cheeks. His grip on Oropher’s hand was like a vice, but his shivering was beginning to clear up as he focused on his midwife. She continued to talk, coaching him through the lessons he had already prepared for.
“Remember, Thranduil, there is nothing to be afraid of. People have been giving birth for thousands of years, all over the world. Your body was built for this, it knows what to do. Trust in yourself, trust in your baby. The two of you can do this together.” She turned towards Oropher. “I’m going to go set up the pool in the living room. Stay with him. I’ll need your help in a few minutes to set up the water pump and the heater.”
Oropher nodded his head, turning Thranduil into the circle of his arms as she walked away. He felt Thranduil’s stomach press up against his own, and he held his upper arm with one hand and ran his other over the back of his child’s neck. It was coated in sweat, and he could feel Thranduil’s pulse dancing underneath his skin.
“It’s okay, _ion nîn_. It’s okay.”
“I...I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Yes, you can!” Oropher lifted Thranduil’s face to his own, locking eyes with his son and seeing the almost identical greyish blue orbs looking back at him with nervousness. Oropher brushed his thumbs over Thranduil’s eyebrows, smoothing the dark hairs down and wiping the sweat beads off of his brow.
“Yes, Thran, you can. You’ve been preparing for this moment for months, you _know_ what to do. You’re the strongest person I know. You can do anything you want to, you always have. You’ve got balls, Thran.” Oropher stopped and thought for a moment. “Well, not right now, you don’t.”
Thranduil smiled at that and his body relaxed a bit as Oropher continued to pet his eyebrows while speaking softly.
“You can do this. You’re incredible, and you have Galadriel here, and you have me. You can lean on me, my son. I’ll do whatever I can.”
Thranduil nodded and leaned his face into the crook of Oropher’s neck, exhaling loudly. He put his hands on his hips and moved his body from side to side again. Oropher shivered from the heated blast of Thranduil’s breath, and he ran his hands up and down Thranduil’s arms, trying to rub the tension out of his muscles.
“Is there anything else I can do?” Oropher asked.
“My hips are killing me, it feels good when I push on them. Makes the pressure...ahhh...” Thranduil gasped as a contraction hit him. He bit his lower lip and leaned heavily against Oropher until it passed.
“It makes the pressure ease up a bit.” Oropher nodded his head and turned Thranduil around by his upper arms. He leaned up against the fridge and pulled Thranduil up against his body. Thranduil’s back molded against his father’s lean stomach and chest, and Oropher put his hands on the outside of his son’s hips and pressed down strongly. He heard his son sigh with relief and felt his head lean back against his shoulder. Oropher was glad he was able to help, and he pressed down harder. |
55dd9001bafb4851b584dc9ad1830ee3 | ['80f60ed190d34f40ac86b7fd896247a4'] | She didn't take him far into her mouth, but realized her hand was still on his cock and used it to work the bottom of his shaft. He looked down at her and she met his eyes. His adam's apple bobbed in his throat and he was clutching the sheets. He bit his lip as he tried to concentrate, but he was unwinding beneath her. She couldn't blame him. She didn't last long when he went down on her for the first time.
Ivy could see the muscles in his stomach and legs begin to tighten. He sat up a little and tried to push her away.
"I'm gonna - gonna come, V."
She kept going and he tried to push her away again. She set her hand firmly against his abdomen and forced him down. Only a few moments later, after a frenzied stream of 'oh fuck's and loud moaning, he came in her mouth. She continued sucking gently until he asked her breathlessly to stop. She swallowed what was still in her mouth and wiped her lips.
"Hmm."
Butch was lying still on the bed, his bare chest heaving. "What?"
She crawled higher up his torso until she was on all fours above him, a much satisfied grin on her face. "That wasn't as tough as I thought it'd be."
"Huh!" he cried out incredulously. "Don't sound so smug. You shoulda heard the way you were singin' your first time."
"I think you're a much better singer than I am, Butch."
He growled and wrapped his arms around her, rolling them over so he was on top then. "Yeah? Just wait until I'm done with you tonight."
"Oh, shit.." she murmured, a smile playing across her lips. | 4eed8a4fca2547b18e2842f95a595feb | ['80f60ed190d34f40ac86b7fd896247a4'] | They walked back to class together, in silence, only earning them a nod from Mr. Brotch who had no doubt heard what happened. Freddie and Amata hadn't returned, their chairs reflecting empty in the room.
When they were dismissed, Ivy left promptly, ignoring Butch's presence just as she had done when she came back from the clinic with Paul. She headed over to the diner, her stomach growling the whole way from skipping lunch, having not eaten since breakfast. She grabbed a sandwich, an apple, some carrot sticks, and a coffee. She threw down a ration coupon on the counter. Andy picked it up after her as she turned to survey the room. She walked over to the corner where she and Amata usually tucked themselves away and was surprised to find her friend. She was huddled in the corner, chin atop her hands which were laid on the tabletop and a half-drunk cup of cold coffee next to her.
"Can I sit?" Ivy asked, standing next to the table.
Amata nodded as she sat, unwrapped her sandwich, and took a few bites. She washed it down with the lukewarm coffee. They sat in silence for a couple minutes while Ivy ate, the diner being otherwise empty besides them, which was a rare thing. When she was adequately full, she finally turned to Amata, "So."
Amata sighed and sat up, focusing on a particular freckle on her arm. "Dunno where to start," she mumbled.
Ivy cleared her throat gently, "How about.. I've missed you, 'Mata."
She could her friend's eyes welling up as she whispered back, "I missed you, too."
Ivy reached her hand out, which Amata took, and squeezed. Amata sniffled and wiped at her eyes before meeting Ivy's. "I'm so sorry about earlier."
Ivy shook her head, "You were in shock."
"I didn't expect Freddie to say all that. He's never been the type to speak up about anything. To tell me he knew about me c-cheating.." Her voice faltered at the last word.
"You didn't mean to, I believe that. You can't help you found a connection with another person. It just.. wasn't handled right. But you know that and I'm not here to lecture you." Ivy's voice was soft and truthful. She knew her friend was a good person. Amata and Paul just got caught in a shitty situation.
"I know, I know," Amata murmured, sinking in the booth. "I do care about Freddie, but I don't love him anymore. Not like that. Maybe if things were different with him. He started working, in Sanitation, last month. He was training so much, I never saw him. Then when he wasn't, he would sleep all day."
Ivy zoned out as her friend continued on, her thoughts beginning to race. Would she tire of Butch the same way? Or worse; would he get tired of waiting around for her? The life of a doctor was hard. She saw that having one for a father. Long hours, taking work home, being on call all the time. Would he find someone else to fill the void in her absence as Amata did?
"Have you felt that way, Ivy?"
She focused back on Amata's voice, brows raised.
Amata's eyes were boring in to hers now, "Have you ever felt like you were drowning, being pulled under by someone else?" Someone you are supposed to love?"
"L-love?"Ivy's cheeks flushed. The word hadn't been brought up between her and Butch yet. She never thought about it, there was always something going on to keep their relationship occupied. They were barely keeping themselves steady without some kind of drama going on. Things were just beginning to go well without his crazy mother or him getting publicly drunk and her having to save his ass. She had no clue how Amata felt. Butch was still opening up to her and she didn't need to rely on him for comfort. She was pretty well confident in herself and being okay without a boyfriend.
Ivy pulled herself from her thoughts again, shaking her head at Amata's question.
"I want Freddie to be okay, but I can't do it anymore. I can't be dragged down with him anymore. At first, it was great, then over time he just retreated back into himself again. Like, he was being outgoing and bubbly for my benefit. His depression started affecting me and I freaked out. I needed to get out. That's when I found Paul.. Am I a bad person?"
Again, Ivy shook her head. "It sounds like he really needs help. Help that you can't give him. Don't feel guilty. You can love someone but not be right together. It will be okay." She offered a smile.
"I abandoned him.."
"No. No, Amata. Don't do that to yourself."
"Will you.. try to talk to him?"
"I promise," Ivy assured her, squeezing Amata's arm. "And.. maybe one day, you two will be able to have a conversation again. Not anytime soon; but one day."
"I hope so," Amata replied.
At those words, 5 or 6 people entered the room; chattering loudly while lining up for food.
Amata ran her hands over her face and breathed deeply. "Ugh. I do not want to face Susie's wrath."
"Yeah, I'm surprised she hasn't graced us with her presence."
Amata snorted, "Probably giving Paul hell right now." She cradled her head in her hands, groaning, "I've been crying since it happened. My brain is pounding."
"You should go rest, let things die down. Avoid Susie at all costs." They both snickered.
"I'm glad we finally talked, V. I did miss you. And.. I'm ashamed to say I've been kinda angry."
Ivy's browed pinched together, "Angry about what?"
"You and Butch. Ah, it feel so weird to say. Hah. You actually seem pretty perfect together. Like you really love and care for each other. I've been jealous I didn't have that with Freddie." |
3f0225fd40ff42d78dba572ac5c29201 | ['80f804eba2d94c4c9d1f29ad7edbddbe'] | Rin let out a sigh as he finished the first part of what he was working on. It took more energy than he thought it would. True it was his first time doing a spell like this, but he had seen one of his older brothers do it and asked them how to do it. As he looked down at his work that laid in his hand, he smiled at doing a perfect job on his first try. Putting it, and a few other things, back into his pocket Rin stood up and stretched out his back. Hearing a few pops he let out another sigh as he changed into his cat form once again. Opening the window to let the outside light back, in he jumped back on to Bon's bed and laid down on the pillow. He had a few minutes to have a quick nap that everyone thought he had been having all this time. The short rest would at least give him some of his energy that he used back, even if only a little bit of it.
(No One's Pov)
“Wow, that is a lot to take in,” Shima said as he laid the top half of his body on to the table that he was sitting at in the dorm's kitchen. “If any of you smell smoke it might be coming from me because my brain is fried.”
“Great, now he'll be even more stupid then before,” Izume whispered loudly to her best friend from her place at the long table.
“Izume, that wasn't very nice to say,” Her friend, Paku, told her. Though the girl couldn't help but laugh a little at what she said.
“It's a lot to take in all that once. You can't really blame Shima for feeling like that. Even my head is hurting a little after all of that,” Konekomaru told the two girls. “Though it also seems hard to believe that what Rin said is also true. I have never once heard of anything like that before and we live with a family that has a snake demon's blood running through them back home. They have never said anything like this or even hinted about it.”
“Then that would just prove what Rin said that only family would know and that it's kept between them,” said Paku. “They might even have wanted to tell you but were afraid of it being overheard by the wrong people,” She added. “Rin said that the higher-ups watch people with demon blood and humans that may become a demon's mate. They wouldn't want people to think that not all demons are pure evil. That way they wouldn't fight or kill them when they are ordered to without any reason as to why they would have to do it if they weren't doing anything wrong.”
“Once they start asking questions like that, they would start to be seen as traitors or perhaps under a demons' control,” added Shiemi. She had been called over to the dorm once Bon and Yukio had returned from upstairs and told everyone that they had something that everyone needed to hear. “I'm sure if you give them a call or maybe write a letter to ask them to see if what Rin was true or not.”
“Though that may be a good idea we'd need to go through all that trouble,” Paku told them with a smile.
“PAKU!,” Shouted Izume.
“What do you mean Ms Noriko?,” Asked Yukio
Paku just turned her smile to Izume and placed a calm hand on her friends arm. Izume glared at her best friend before she let out a sigh. Then was no winning when Paku was giving her that smile.
“I have fox demon blood running through me,” Izume told them as she looked away from everyone and at a wall. “I won't give you my full family history but the Kamiki clan was started when a human made a deal with a fox demon to help them seal away a nine tailed fox that had gone crazy. It took them a long time to find a spell that would work on it and to also find the nine tails when they did find a way. Once the nine tails was sealed away they told each other their feelings and the rest is history.”
She turned back to look at everyone again. “What Rin said is true. When my clan was first started they were watched very closely and it took years before they stopped and forgot about us. Those in my family haven't married a demon in a long time. Mostly normal humans or other Exorcists, but the story of how the clan was started and the world Rin spoke of have been past down to each new child of the clan without fail throughout the ages.”
Everyone but Paku looked at Izume with either surprise or wonder in their faces.
“Well I can honesty say that I didn't see that one coming at all, but that does explain why your eyebrows remind me of a fox's now,” Bon said finally breaking the silence.
“WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT MY EYEBROWS!!!!”
Everyone began to laugh as they watched Izume try to kill Bon but Paku was holding her back. Once Bon stopped laughing he asked Shima if he could go get Rin from upstairs and wake him from his nap. Shima agreed as he jumped out of his seat and headed over to the stairs. Once he was out of everyone's line of sight, he took out his phone and sent a quick text before he reached the door. Once at the top of the stairs he headed over to Bon and Rin's room. Opening the door, he took a look around until he saw the black cat lying on the pillow sleeping.
(Mephisto's Pov)
Mephisto was working on some paperwork when his cell started to ring letting him know that someone was calling. | 83f2900251584e80a71b8dabc9c992d7 | ['80f804eba2d94c4c9d1f29ad7edbddbe'] | The tiger narrowed it eyes at his words and nodded to him.
“I told myself if I made it I would change both of our fates. You and your holder will be stronger and happier with me, that I can promise you moon tiger. All I want in return is to keep you both by my side. I will be a true father and protect you both with my life.” He reached his hand out for the tiger to take. “The one thing I need from you is to seal the memories of what I did and what has happen to him in that place away. I want to make a fresh start for him and I need a fresh mind to plant my plan into.”
The tiger started at the man and his hand for a while before it nodded its head and placed its hand in his. Shibusawa smiled at the tiger as joy flashed in his eyes.
“Thank you moon tiger,” He said as he watched the tiger close its eyes. Before the body could fall over he got up and caught it. “You both need your sleep. I’ll go get us some food and some clothes for little Atsushi.” He laid the small body down on to the cot and re-ranged his jacket to fully cover the boy’s body. He pet the boy’s uneven cut hair as he smiled down at the sleeping child before he left.
**~A/N:**
** There we go, chapter one is out. It didn’t have a lot of Atsushi but we’ll get his point of view in the next chapter. Let me know what you gets though of this chapter in your reviews! See you guys next time.**
**~B/N: It didn’t have much Atsushi but he was knocked out most of the time so that’s accurate to the source material I guess-**
3. Chapter 2
**Chapter 2**
Atsushi woke up to the feel of something rough pushing his hair away from his face. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw a big body of white with black stripes in front of him. Jumping away from the body in front of him, he turned his head up to see the face of a tiger. At first he was scared thinking that it was going to eat him but then he saw the tiger didn’t have the look of hunger in its eyes. It’s eyes looked sad that he had run away from it. The tiger let out a little chuff like it was trying to call him back over. He touched his head as he remember what woke him up as he stared at the big cat that was still calling him back over.
“Were you giving me a bath?” He asked as he tilted his head to the side.
His eyes widened as he saw the tiger nodding yes to him.
“You can understand me!” Again the tiger nodded as it sat down and lifted it’s paw to tell him to come back over.
Atsushi didn’t move right away, which got him another chuff from the big cat. It made him giggle a little as the tiger’s tail started to flick back and forth in irritation.
“Okay, I’m coming,” He told the cat as he crawled back over. As soon as he was within reach the tiger grabbed him with one of it paws pulling him the rest of the way. The paw didn’t budge and kept him in place as it began giving him a bath again.
Atsushi giggled again at the tiger as he looked at the space around them. The was nothing but white all around them. It was just a giant empty room. He scrunched up his noise at that, it just felt too lonely. He closed his eyes and thought of something to make the room more lively. The tiger watched as the once white room began to change.
Above them a beautiful night sky fulled with stars and a large full blue moon stared down at him. Below them fresh green grass covered the ground as many different colored flowers danced around them in the wind that began to blow. Many trees formed a circle around them as the sound of birds filled the air. Atsushi open his eyes and looked up at the tiger giving it a big smile once he saw what he pictured in his mind come to life.
“Now it doesn’t feel so lonely, yeah!” Atsushi giggled happily to the tiger. The tiger looked pleased as it rubbed its face against his cheek.
Atsushi knew that he was somehow asleep and that he was in his head. He remembered seeing a picture in a book that helped him make the new area around them. He wanted the tiger to feel more at home. The tiger laid down on it side and butted its head to his body making him fall onto the tiger’s belly.
“You want me to go to sleep?” The tiger let out another chuff as it curled up more around him. “Okay, I’ll take a nap with you.” He giggled as he buried his face in the warm fur. With a big happy smile on his face he closed his eyes to fall back to sleep.
The tiger lifted its head as it stared into the trees as a blue door decorated with a tiger and a red chain surrounded by a dragon around it began to glow. The tiger let out a deep growl to push the door deep into its holder mind where it can never be reached or seen again. Putting it’s head back down to rest on its paws, the tiger closed it’s eyes to sleep with it’s cub.
**~(A few hour later)~** |
2c3157ff74674aa58825682093f2a2fb | ['80fe0d4de0724da599387256d6f7f394'] |
Happy Endings
**Author's Note:**
> I read over and edited this in between rounds at a Harry Potter trivia night, so let me know if you find any mistakes.
>
> Enjoy!
Clint groaned as he stood in the elevator next to Bucky, who had picked him up from Shield, rubbing at his left shoulder absently. Most days he was fine and the muscles didn’t bother him, but after that shitshow of a mission he was really feeling his age in his arms and back.
“Should I sleep or should I shower?” he mused out loud. “I could sleep in the shower, but I’m also starving.”
Years of training kept him from jumping when Bucky piped up with, “Food first. I think there’s leftovers in the fridge.”
They raided the fridge together, gathering all the various leftovers they could find before slumping at the counter, eating everything straight out of containers. Clint was too tired to even initiate the endless stream of flirting and one upmanship that normally happened anytime he and Bucky were anywhere near each other.
It has started innocently enough, shortly after Bucky moved into the Tower. Bucky, after spending days waking from nightmares and trying to beat his demons into submission in the gym, stumbled into the common kitchen where Clint was making his own lunch. Bucky reached around him and grabbed half the sandwich, mumbling “Thanks Doll.”
Clint considered fighting to keep his lunch, but based on the state Bucky was in this was probably the first food he’d eaten in days. He wasn’t going to go down without a fight however. “Anything for you Sweet Pea,” he replied.
Clint hadn’t thought to deeply about the exchange but it seemed the floodgates had opened. The next time he saw Bucky the man had smirked challengingly, called him snickerdoodle, and sauntered away.
The team quickly grew tired of their flirting, going so far as to try and ban it during missions. Neither Clint nor Bucky, however, were the type to follow rules that didn’t suit them, and the flirting continued. Natasha had started to give Clint looks but he was good at ignoring those by this point in their friendship.
They finished eating in silence, Bucky putting dishes away. Clint went to stand but collapsed back on his stool as his legs almost gave out under him. He was sore in muscles he didn’t even know he had.
Bucky came up next to him and helped support him until his legs were ready to carry him again, leading him to his floor despite Clint’s attempts to go back to his own room. He managed a questioning noise, causing Bucky to look over and grin. “I can’t in good conscience let you go off and shower alone, you’ll drown.”
Clint had to admit to himself that there was probably some logic to that. He walked into Bucky’s bathroom mostly under his own steam and started stripping unselfconsciously. Growing up in the circus followed by his years as a secret agent had gotten rid of any shame he had ever had.
Clint stood under the hot water feeling the muscles in his shoulders loosen some, but they were still tighter than they normally were after missions. He lathered up Bucky’s soap, cleaning the sweat and grime from his skin. He stepped out and toweled off with one of Bucky’s extra soft towels and put on a pair of sweatpants Bucky had set out for him. They were loose and rode low on his hips, but they were so comfortable he didn’t care.
He walked back into Bucky’s bedroom where Bucky had removed the comforter from his bed and was grabbing a bottle of something out of a dresser drawer. He looked up as Clint walked in and gestured to the bed.
“I can make it back to my own room, Bucky. I don’t think I’m in danger of drowning in the elevator.”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “If anyone could
It would be you. Lay down, asshole. I’m gonna massage your muscles so you don’t wake up feeling even worse tomorrow.”
Clint considered arguing but it didn’t seem worth it. And a massage would probably help his aching muscles. So he laid down in the middle of Bucky’s bed, groaning at the feeling of finally laying somewhere soft for the first time in over a week.
Bucky popped the cap on a bottle and rubbed his hands together before rubbing his hands deep into the muscles of Clint’s shoulders. It hurt some, but in such a good way. Clint moaned deep in his throat and felt himself go limp against the bed. Bucky continued to rub Clint’s shoulders, moving slowly down his arms and to his hands before working his way back up to his upper back.
Clint couldn’t contain the groans of pleasure as Bucky finally started to massage his lower back. His exhaustain was lifting some in the face of the extra stimuli and other parts of his body were starting to take interest in the proceedings. He squirmed against the bed, trying to subtly get some friction against his rapidly hardening cock. He almost jumped out of his skin when Bucky pulled his sweatpants down his body and off his legs, moving from rubbing his lower back to his ass. The idea of being completely naked and massaged while Bucky remained fully clothed was getting to him too and he was quickly reaching the point of no return. There was no way Bucky wouldn’t notice his erection when he got up to return to his own bed. | e94b23caf9b04382b968d77b4394fa48 | ['80fe0d4de0724da599387256d6f7f394'] | After dinner, Bucky’s family pulled out Monopoly. Clint’s family had never in his life played a board game but he was willing to give it a try.
Two hours later he wasn’t sure if he loved Bucky’s family or was terrified of them. Probably both.
Becca was doing a truly terrible victory dance from her seated position in front of the coffee table. Bucky’s dad (“call me George”) was mortgaging properties and counting out money, all the while threatening to disown his daughter. Winnie, who Becca had knocked out several rounds earlier, was encouraging him.
Bucky was barely holding on, most of his properties mortgaged and down to his last few dollars. Clint, however, was keeping up with Becca. He was pretty sure if he could get Bucky’s properties he could win.
George finished paying up and it was Bucky’s turn to roll. Bucky counted out his moves slowly and landed on one of Clint’s hotels. Jackpot. Clint couldn’t contain his grin even while Bucky pouted.
“Give me everything you’ve got, babe.”
Bucky turned the full force of his pout to Clint. It would probably be devastating if Clint was into guys. “You would knock me out of the game? I thought you loved me.”
Clint couldn’t help laughing. “That’s a dirty move, Barnes. Counteroffer, give me your stuff and you can be on my team. We’ll take Becca down together.”
Becca gasped dramatically. “I finally see the point of dating, teaming up unfairly against teenagers.”
George and Winnie answered in unison. “Exactly.”
Bucky was busy rearranging Clint’s money and property into something resembling order as opposed to the piles Clint had kept it in, but he paused long enough to send Becca a smirk.
Once everything was arranged to Bucky’s satisfaction he started unmortgaging Clint’s properties and buying houses and hotels. Finally satisfied he gave Clint the dice and let him roll.
Less than five minutes later Becca was scowling as she passed all of her money over to a cackling Bucky. Clint couldn’t keep the fond smile hidden.
“Winner cleans up,” Becca announced. “I’m going to make hot chocolate for everyone who didn’t cheat at the game.”
Bucky pouted, “You’re really not going to make anything for your favorite brother? Plus, Clint’s a guest, you can’t leave him out.”
Becca rolled her eyes, but when Clint and Bucky joined everyone in the kitchen after cleaning up the game there were five mugs sitting around the table.
Everyone drank their hot chocolate and visited until Winnie glanced at the clock. “Oh goodness! It’s past midnight. Becca, you’ve still got school tomorrow. Time for bed everyone, we’ll get to spend plenty of time together.”
Bucky took everyone’s mugs to the sink and rinsed them, putting them in the dishwasher while Winnie hugged first Becca then Clint. She turned to Bucky as he returned and gave him a tight hug then shooed everyone toward their rooms.
Clint and Bucky faced separate walls while they dressed for bed, Clint in a pair of loose sweatpants, Bucky in boxers and a T-shirt. They climbed into bed together, facing each other so Clint could read Bucky’s lips.
“I really like your family.”
Bucky smiled sleepily. “I’m glad. They like you too.”
Clint smiled back and closed his eyes, tired but happy after being surrounded by a happy family.
***
Clint woke in the morning to sunlight streaming through the window. He was alone in the room so he grabbed his aids and put them in on his way to the bathroom, where he took care of business and brushed his teeth. He left the bathroom in search of coffee, entering the kitchen where Bucky was making coffee while Becca heckled him.
Clint draped himself over Bucky’s back, determined to wait for the coffee. Bucky turned and smiled at Clint then turned back to teasing Becca. They waited in that position for the coffee pot to fill. When it was finally ready Bucky pulled two mugs forward while Clint gathered milk and sugar. They each prepared their coffees, Clint groaning in appreciation when the first sip hit his lips.
“You guys are so cute together.” Clint jumped, almost spilling coffee on his bare chest. Becca was staring at them with her chin in her hand, a soft smile on her face. Luckily they were saved from having to answer by her phone dinging. “That’s my ride, I’ll see you guys after school!” Becca was out the door before Clint could process what she had said.
Clint looked at Bucky. “She has too much energy in the mornings.”
Bucky laughed, “Yeah, she’s the only morning person in the entire family.”
As if to illustrate his point Winnie shuffled in, looking half dead as she made a beeline to the coffee pot. She poured herself a mug but didn’t say anything until it was half gone. “Good morning boys. What are your plans for today?”
Clint glanced at Bucky, who shrugged. “I don’t think we have any plans. Probably hang out here.”
Winnie nodded, “I have to go into work, but you’re more than welcome to hang out here.”
Clint scrambled eggs for himself and Bucky. He offered to make some for Winnie also but she declined, grabbing a granola bar as she walked out the door.
Bucky took his first bite. “These are really good, I didn’t know you could cook.”
Clint rubbed the back of his neck, “I don’t cook a lot, but I can. Had to do it for myself growing up.”
They finished eating in silence then looked at each other slightly awkwardly.
Clint cleared his throat, “So, what do we do now?”
“I’m going to take a shower,” Bucky answered, “then I guess whatever we want to do. We can watch TV, or nap, or go someplace I guess. It’s up to you.” |
084a28c7a4e24f51ab8be804f709df30 | ['8110a7b9a7cd4d9da8ba8c6d0e251b87'] | Diego looked around for Grace to give him a more cohesive run down of his injuries. She was perched on the floor beside the chair, a chair which held F-
“What. The fuck?” Diego gawped. Klaus laughed merrily.
“Language!” Grace admonished but her tone was soft.
“Get me down from here,” Diego commanded Klaus, and Klaus helped him down with a roll of his eyes and a swish of his boa.
Once Diego was upright (and cursing under his breath) they walked over to sleeping Five. He looked so innocent and sweet, almost adorable.
“When did he get here? H-how?”
Five blinked one eye open and fixed it on Diego. “If you would be so kind as to stop with all your asinine questions, I’ll answer them far more coherently than Klaus. Once I have finished sleeping.”
“Okay,” Diego put a hand up in surrender. “Prick.”
“Dumbass.” Five volleyed back, but with a slight grin in his voice.
“Maybe we should check on the others?” Klaus asked, in the loudest stage whisper known to man.
Oh, yeah. The others.
“If you’re up to it, of course?” It wasn’t asked in a challenging way, but Diego was sure as hell going to take it as one.
He snorted derisively. “Of course.”
8. Chapter 8
Vanya and Allison had succeeded in reviving Luther, although not by strictly speaking classic methods. After an age, Allison had rolled her eyes to herself and said to Vanya, “I know this is unethical and immoral, but if it works, it works. Y’know?”
Vanya had nodded, a little sceptically, watching as Allison rumoured Luther to regain consciousness.
And it did work. Luther thudded to the floor (potentially causing an earthquake elsewhere) and few moments later he sat up, a large bump on his forehead.
“Is everyone okay?” he asked, immediately in leader mode.
“Yes!” Klaus trilled, from what remained of the doorway. His arm was slung under Diego’s shoulder. Diego looked not so great. And he was wearing... orange?
“He vomited on his top,” Klaus filled them in, “which was already ruined beyond repair.”
“Okay,” Allison said slowly. “I guess-“
“Let’s reconvene the Family Meeting,” Luther interrupted.
“But, uh, maybe somewhere else? With seats.” Vanya suggested for Diego’s sake, and also Klaus’s because he was the one holding Diego up.
Everyone simultaneously rolled their eyes, but nodded their agreement.
“Family meeting!” Klaus clapped his hands together. “Have we got news for you!” He seemed disproportionally gleeful.
They all settled themselves in the living room. Klaus deposited Diego onto a sofa, and sat on the floor beside the sofa. Vanya sat on the chair opposite, Allison in the chair beside her. Only Luther remained standing, making him look huger than he already was.
Everyone looked at him expectantly. He opened his mouth and closed it again.
“I’ll start.” Klaus bounced off the floor, and did a pretty decent pirouette in the middle of the room.
“I know how the explosion happened,” he told them, mid twirl.
Vanya glanced round. Luther looked irritated, Allison doubtful. Diego wasn’t even looking at Klaus, instead facing the cushions on the sofa.
“This isn’t a joke, Klaus,” Luther told him sternly.
“I know.”
“Fine,” Allison said, crisply. “I’ll bite. How did the explosion happen?”
There was a long pause. Klaus knew how to play to an audience.
“Because of Five.”
There was an even longer pause, then everyone spoke at once.
“I said this wasn’t a joke, Klaus!”
“How would that even be possible?”
“Maybe... maybe you should go see Grace, make sure you’re okay?”
Klaus tsked at them all.
“Diego?” Allison said, because he was the only one who hadn’t spoken.
“He’s telling the truth.” Diego confirmed, his voice harsh.
“Diego!” Luther sounded disappointed. “Don’t lie.”
Diego muttered something, then threw a knife at Luther. It sailed right past him.
“Ooh, I’m so scared.” Luther mocked, and Allison glared at him. “Grow up,” she said.
“He’s in the medical room place thing. With Mom. Go check if you don’t believe us.” Klaus had finished his ballet show, and was sitting on the sofa beside Diego, arms folded.
“I believe you,” Vanya said, and Klaus leant forward, looking delighted.
“He’s asleep at the moment, but when he’s awake we are to ask him any and all important questions that have been on our minds for the past seventeen years.”
Vanya blanched. Surely it hadn’t been seventeen years since Five had disappeared. Or left, as the case now seemed to be.
“I won’t believe it until I see it,” Luther was saying, but he was moving toward the door, Allison hot on his heels.
“So go,” Klaus ushered them out. “See. Seek and ye shall find. Or something.”
Vanya got up and followed their procession. To Klaus she said, “you guys coming?”
“No,” Klaus sat on her vacated seat. “He was very cranky. And asleep. We’ll wait til he’s back on better form.”
“So, uh, cranky and not asleep?” Vanya laughed, suddenly overcome with excitement at seeing her brother after all these years.
“Did he look like. Like Five still?”
Klaus creased up with laughter. “Oh yeah,” he said. “Totally like himself.”
“Vanya, you coming?” Allison called, and Vanya steadied herself, then joined her siblings in the hall.
Ready to see Number Five again.
9. Chapter 9
They decided to eat out at a restaurant to celebrate Five’s return. Five seemed venomously against this idea, but because he was now the youngest-
“I’m not the youngest! I’m FIFTY EIGHT!” –
His vote was vetoed.
There was much discussion (arguing) about where they should go to eat.
Luther had been on the moon for four years (had you heard?) and felt he didn’t know the area anymore. Allison had something of the same problem, giving she had been off gallivanting in superstardom for the past decade. Klaus wanted takeaway pizza, which Diego could get behind. His body was a temple, but sometimes that temple could be filled with pizza. | f9197ddcf1cc42319098be222edd3836 | ['8110a7b9a7cd4d9da8ba8c6d0e251b87'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> Ahhh TUA I love all my dysfuntional, chaotic Hargreeves soblings. I mean siblings.
Dad was dead. Thank fucking Jesus. Or whoever. Thank the Lord Reginald really, because if ever there was a gospel they were supposed to look up to and worship (some took this more seriously than others, cough, cough Luther) it was dear old Dad. That utter tyrannical dickface weeb.
And you know, in a way it was nice to have a family reunion. It was great to see Vanya looking all small and innocent, swathed in oversized clothes like she had never exposed them all and assumed their thoughts and feelings in that stupid book she wrote.
It was a treat to see Luther after all this time, hulked out from spending all that time on the moon, and from the looks of things, eating half of it, or shoving literal moon rocks into his body. Luther was huge now, but Diego thought he could still take him in a fight.
Allison was all swish and starry, a celebrity these days. Diego had seen her on numerous magazine covers. She had got married to someone who was not Luther so Diego applauded her. If it were a competition she would definitely be winning.
“Of course it is a competition, Number 2,” Reginald’s portrait informed him scornfully. Diego snorted. He was getting as bad as Klaus.
Who was kind of the same but different. More eyeliner. Same flourish of the hands. He was very entertaining compared to the others, but Diego had a long practiced poker face. Klaus wouldn’t crack him. Kraken. Haha. Diego was unappreciated and hilarious.
The house was so big. So many rooms. Not enough people for them anymore. Five. Ben.
Diego wondered if things would have been different if the two of them were still here.
Would the family be as splintered, broken?
Not that Diego was remotely splintered or broken. Diego wielded knives. He was a vigilante. He was living his best life.
He saw Mom and he wanted to cry. She looked as unchanged and unruffled as every, her hair perfectly placed, her smile ready. Diego couldn’t believe he’d left her here with him. He sneaked in, yearly at the very least, and she always treated him like no time at all had passed; he was just the very person she wanted to see.
He hugged her and she cupped her hand under his chin.
“You look sad,” she said, then brightened suddenly. “I’ll make pancakes.”
He watched her bustling around for ingredients. He wanted to say so much. So all he said was “thanks mom.”
Klaus entered the kitchen with a spin and clapped his hands in delight when he saw the pancakes. He took Diego’s plate and began eating beside him. Diego turned and fixed him with a murderous stare. He had it on high authority that it was a hard-core and realistic murderous stare. A murderer had told him.
Klaus barked out a laugh, which made Diego’s jaw tighten involuntarily.
“I’m his brother,” Klaus stage whispered. “What’s he going to do, murder me?”
Diego lifted a knife. “Yes.”
Klaus looked surprised at Diego’s input.
“Oh,” he said, looking around furtively. “I mean, well, I’m just in a spin you know.” Klaus wound a finger in the air. “ Because of...”
Because of Dad, Diego thought, but Klaus produced a mirror from somewhere and stared at his reflection, aghast. “My eyeliner.”
Diego thumped his head against the table.
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Eurgh chapters will get longer I promise. And also everything is a bit out of sync/ not in order but its definitely to further the plot, not because I have no current access to tua and kinda got confused.... anyway five isnt on the scene yet but will be soon!
++
They had the memorial service or whatever it was supposed to be, on the grounds beside Ben’s statue. Diego wanted to laugh everytime he saw Ben’s statue because it was the opposite of who Ben was. Ben hated standing out. But anyway.
It was raining. Diego didn’t have an umbrella. He didn’t care, the funeral was hardly going to last long. What do you say at a memorial service about someone you don’t want to remember?
For once everyone was silent. There was no bickering, no jostling for attention. Silence. Just the way he would like it.
Pogo spoke up in the end, making Reginald sound dignified and some sort of pioneer. Diego spat words out, a counter argument.
It was unsurprising that he and Luther fought. Diego had been itching for a fight ever since he got here. It was surprising that Luther had just walked off after Diego sliced a knife through the air and it nicked his arm.
“You always take it too far,” Vanya shook her head at him.
But of course he took it too far. That was what they had all been taught. Win at any cost. And something about Teamwork, but Reginald glossed over that part pretty fast.
......
Dad was experimenting on them again. Only he didn’t call it experimenting. It was assessing. He was assessing them to see where their powers lay. Ben’s was pretty obvious. He had... things living on him. It was all very hush hush for now. Dad wanted to unveil Ben to them on their first mission, and Ben didn’t want to talk about it. He talked about it to Klaus though. Diego was pretty sure of this because he walked past Klaus’s room and Ben was sitting beside Klaus. Crying.
Five too had already passed the assessing stage and was onto the improvement level. He could skip through space, and maybe someday through time. Already he had the air of someone who knew far more than he should. |
a8db22c2beff44d69574be10b9bf7d1a | ['81572eadc4ef4ffa86da91ea57779ea9'] | Mami maneuvered her legs within Madoka's to scoot them into a proper position. Madoka couldn’t help but realize Mami’s legs were a perfect combination of softness and firmness. She really was unbeatable in every way!
“This is an open stance. Your lead foot should be positioned to the side of the bow and pointed at a 45-degree angle inwards, while your trailing foot should be set behind it perpendicular to your arrow’s intended path.”
Mami gripped Madoka’s left elbow in her hand with the same soft-firm touch her legs had, and then rotated it so the outside of her elbow was facing away from her body.
“Now raise your bow as I keep your arm in this position.”
“Huh, but it feels so weird to position my arm like this, are you sure that’s right?”
Madoka rotated her face to Mami to see her response. Mami just gave a bright smile in return, assuaging Madoka’s concern without a single word.
Madoka lifted her bow as Mami held her arm in its current state of rotation. Despite it feeling weird, it didn’t hurt. She’d have to trust Mami.
“Now you’re ready. Draw your bow and take aim so that the arrow’s point is slightly above the target. Despite its speed, the arrow will still fall during its path due to gravity.”
Madoka responded to her teacher’s wishes without question this time, and took aim.
“Now, release it!” Mami commanded.
Madoka let the arrow fly forth. In that moment, she could feel her heart skip in anticipation, wondering if all this had been worth it. The arrow continued flying forward, on its track. Then it struck the bullseye.
Madoka’s face could not hide her pride with this achievement, even if she had help from Mami. As she turned to her mentor, Madoka saw that she too bore a similar expression, and hugged her immediately.
“I knew you could do it!” Mami applauded.
Her embrace felt so kind to Madoka.
“Only because I had a great teacher like you.” Madoka replied, happily.
***
A splash of red… a shine of yellow… the situation moved far too fast for Madoka to make sense of it all, causing her to fall to her knees.
Madoka felt herself fall further, her eyes lacking any resistance as her body shut down, fading into a vision of nothingness. It was to be her end.
“Raise your bow,” said a voice.
Then her eyes shot open, as if suddenly possessed. Madoka’s mind refused to shut down as she pulled her arrow back, still on her knees, unable to accept it. The target was in her sight, and the voice that could be heard only by her continued.
“Keep your arm in this position,” said the voice.
“I am…” Madoka whispered.
“Take aim so that the arrow’s point is slightly above the target.”
“I am…”
“Now, release it!”
“I will!” Madoka screamed, mentally.
The pink arrow launched forth and hit the yellow bullseye. The force of the impact caused the stand on which it was held to topple over and clatter against the floor. It was the best shot of her life, and yet she couldn’t stop crying in spite of that.
“I don’t want this! I can’t take it anymore!” Madoka cried, unable to control herself from the agony over what she had just done.
Madoka slumped to the ground under her mental exhaustion. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the stand for what it truly was; the source of the words that had encouraged her just a moment ago.
It was her teacher, Mami Tomoe. | 64172267824149ef9fdbf1885e6f2534 | ['81572eadc4ef4ffa86da91ea57779ea9'] |
Target Practice
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> This is a fic I wrote for my friend's birthday today. They gave me a prompt for this story, and I wrote away. I'm really happy with how it turned out, and I hope you enjoy it as well.
As Madoka drew back the arrow, the surprise she felt from her bow’s silence remained. From all the movies she had seen, the pink-haired girl expected the wood of the bow to creak under pressure, but no such sound was made. It still bothered her to some extent, but she’d have to get used to it. It was inconsequential in the long run.
She tried to line up her shot properly, her bow shaking a bit as the force of the draw commanded her hands to release the string. A short time passed and her fingers finally gave out, letting the arrow loose from her bow, which hit the bottom of the target.
Madoka let out a disappointed sigh, let down by how little her ability seemed to improve. Even then, she refused to give up and went for another arrow from her quiver. As her fingers tightened around it, her skin cried out in pain, and she dropped the arrow. Madoka held in a yell, and pulled her right hand in a tight fist toward her chest, looking down at it. She dug her nails into her palm to try and distract herself from the pain she felt in her fingertips.
“That’s enough for now,” Mami called out. Madoka turned toward her teacher and fellow magical girl. “Let’s take a break.”
Madoka bowed, still keeping her right hand clenched, and went over to the nearby shelf to set down her bow and quiver before skipping back to Mami. When she reached her friend and mentor, she finally unclenched her fist in front of her. The blisters weren’t too disgusting or anything, but they looked rather unfitting in comparison to her rather small and girlish demeanor.
Mami clasped her hands around Madoka’s, the latter of whom felt a great relief wash over her. Mami’s magic was better than any ice pack, not just numbing the pain, but completely removing it altogether.
Of course, despite the relief washing over her hand, it wasn’t instantaneous. And for that, she was glad they were doing this after the archery club had left. They’d look a bit weird just standing out in the middle of the area holding hands. The thought of having to explain that to some passerby embarrassed Madoka a bit. She then began to wonder about why she had even blistered her hand in the first place.
“Hey Mami?” Madoka asked.
“Hmm,” Mami gave in reply.
“Why are you having me practice with a regular bow and arrow?”
“I know your hand hurts Madoka,” Mami started, Madoka wincing a bit in response at having been found out so easily, “but it takes less magic to do some light healing than having you use magic to fire your arrows. If I taught my student to use her magic irresponsibly, I’d never forgive myself.”
Madoka looked down in resignation. Mami really was in a league of her own, easily able to answer her question without even a pause. Still, Madoka hoped to be able to help her friend in time, and looked up with a resolute smile.
“Mami, you’re the coolest!” Madoka exclaimed.
At the genuine compliment and expression of admiration, Mami could not help but give pause, before letting loose a small chuckle.
Madoka, a bit confused, replied, “I-I mean it Mami, you’re the coolest person I know!”
“I wasn't doubting you,” Mami replied, rubbing a tear from her eye, “it’s just a bit funny seeing someone so openly say something like that.”
Madoka blushed and looked down toward her hand to see if it was healed. Though it was really just an excuse to not show Mami her bright pink face.
“But, thank you, I’m glad my student thinks so positively of me.”
Madoka’s head tilted up slightly as she gave a small grin.
“Alright, I think your hand’s all better now.”
Madoka withdrew her hand from Mami’s, checking it from all directions to confirm the blisters were gone. Her hand felt better than new.
“Alright, I’m going to try practicing again!” declared Madoka.
Madoka ran over to her bow, while Mami gave another small chuckle at her honest enthusiasm. Madoka picked up the bow and returned to her position, ready to let more arrows fly.
“This time I’ll hit a bullseye for sure!”
Madoka began to draw her arrow, but stopped midway as she felt something soft press up against her back. Madoka let out a little squeak at the sensation, but quickly caught it in her mouth so as not to let it escape.
“W-what are you doing Mami?” Madoka questioned.
“Well, when my student says she’s going to make her next shot, I, as a teacher, have to ensure she does.”
“I can do it on my own though, no problem!” Madoka huffed.
“Your track record begs to differ.”
Madoka couldn’t give any kind of retort to that. Mami really was unbeatable. As she began to raise her bow again, resignation smeared on her face, and was glad Mami wasn’t able to see it. However, her arm’s upward path was blocked by Mami’s arm, much to Madoka’s surprise.
“It seems like you already made a misstep here Madoka,” Mami stated.
“W-what do you mean?”
“You’re too quick to draw your bow. I appreciate the enthusiasm, but it’s best to have an idea of what you want to accomplish in your mind before you start.”
“But all I want to do is to hit the target.”
Mami gave a small chuckle, “That’s a bit too simple-minded, even for you Madoka. What you really want is to have an idea of how to position yourself so you’ll hit the target. You shouldn’t wing it. Your stance is also off.” |
2b875f2214c7437bb15624cb1029e128 | ['817c29aeb9694e15ad0983037373cab0'] | Not the Decorating Type
“Come on Carm! Are you really just going to sit there while I do all of the work?”
Laura had convinced her girlfriend to let her decorate the dorm, but apparently that didn’t include Carmilla actually helping at all.
“Look sugarplum, I’m just not the decorating type.” Carmilla said as she flipped through the pages of her book.
“Besides, this bed is pretty comfortable. Why don’t you come see for yourself?” Carmilla almost purred as she patted the space beside her.
“No Carm! This is not the time for cuddles. I have to run out and get some more lights anyways.” Laura said giving Carmilla a quick peck on the cheek and heading out the door.
Laura was on her way back from the store when Laf came running up to her.
“Laura there were some really strange noises coming from your room. Me and Perry were just about to go check it out.” They said as Perry came up to join them.
“What? Oh no Carmilla is in there! What if her mother came back, or some new evil thing?” Laura rambled on as she fumbled for the key to her room. She quickly found it and opened the door.
What they saw was not what they expected at all.
There, sitting in the middle of the floor, was a giant black panther covered in Christmas lights and tinsel.
The panther quickly changed into a very embarrassed Carmilla.
“Um, you really wanted me to help, so I thought I would. But the lights, they um, distracted me?” Carmilla said sheepishly.
Laf couldn’t help it any longer and burst out laughing, Perry looked like she was holding back a grin. Perry grabbed Laf’s hand and pulled them out of the room to give them some privacy.
Laura just looked at Carmilla with the biggest smile on her face.
“Do you possibly need any help, or were you planning on becoming one with the Christmas decorations?” Laura giggled attempting to untangle the lights.
“Just shut up and help me.” Carmilla growled, still embarrassed.
“Maybe when we get you untangled we can go back to that cuddling idea that you had earlier?” Laura said attempting to make Carmilla feel better.
“Yeah, I’d like that.” Carmilla said, finally wiping the frown from her face and giving her girlfriend a smile. | 922547e425454e53a45f521fa8879f64 | ['817c29aeb9694e15ad0983037373cab0'] | “What’s got you so nervous, cutie?” Carmilla said in a drawn out voice.
“What? Nothing, I’m fine!” Laura said defensively. She still couldn’t tell if Carmilla actually liked her, or it she just put up with her for the class. Being called cutie was a little unnerving also.
“Whatever.” Carmilla responded, going back to her indifferent state.
“Okay class! Gather around.” Professor Lawrence said walking into the middle of the clearing.
“If you read the chapters, then you know we are talking about Puffskeins today! These creatures are virtually harmless and docile which makes them perfect for our assignment!” Professor Lawrence said as she reached into a cage and pulled one of the yellow Puffskeins out.
The Puffskein emitted a humming sound as professor Lawrence stroked its head. It was small and resembled an oversized yellow cotton ball.
“Today each group will be receiving a Puffskein to take care of until next class! Class is canceled for next week so your next meeting time will be in two weeks. Now I understand this may seem like a hard task, but as you will notice the Puffskein is a very calm creature! This exercise will also allow you to get to know your partners better. As I stated last class, you will keep these partners until the end of the school year!” Professor Lawrence stated with enthusiasm.
As Laura looked around she noticed several nervous expressions. Even Carmilla looked a little on edge at the news of their new two-week project.
“Everyone come pick up your Puffskein!” Professor Lawrence said.
Carmilla made not intention of moving so Laura walked up to the cages and picked one up. The small creature looked up at Laura with big eyes.
“Well you shouldn’t be too hard to take care of! Just as long as I can keep Carmilla from deciding to throw you out.” Laura said in a baby voice to the little creature.
She took the cage back to the tree that had become their spot. She sat the cage down in front of Carmilla and looked around at the other groups.
She noticed Laf and Perry already had theirs out cuddling it. She could already tell that would be a very spoiled animal. It wouldn’t surprise her if Perry knitted it sweaters before the two weeks were up.
Laura reached down and picked up the creature. “What should we name it?” She said to Carmilla as she began to rock it back and forth in her arms.
“Whatever your little heart desires.” Carmilla replied lazily.
Laura was still nervous about her comments she made last week, but if Carmilla was still angry she showed no signs of it. Laura decided it was best not to bring it up.
“Well um, here. Why don’t you hold it?” Laura said pushing the fluff ball towards Carmilla.
Carmilla immediately backed away with a look of disgust on her face.
“I think I’ll just let you stick to the babysitting.” Carmilla responded, as if getting to close to anything that cute would make her spontaneously combust.
At that moment Professor Lawrence walked over to hand them the papers they would have to fill out for their Puffskein. Laura was shocked to notice how thick the stack of papers was.
“I am expecting you and your partner to document at least one hour of your Puffskein’s day, every day until the two weeks is up. Think of it like a diary entry that shows what it did that day, what it ate, etcetera.” Professor Lawrence explained as she finished passing out the papers. “You need to document one hour today, but you can do it outside of class if you would like. You are dismissed as soon as you get your papers.”
“Okay look cutie, I’m not thrilled for this project because it involves little to no brain power. I don’t really enjoy babysitting cotton balls for a grade but I’m not going to let you somehow screw it up either. I have some Dark Arts homework I really need to finish so can we just document our thing later tonight?” Carmilla said to Laura.
Laura was pretty sure that was the most she had ever spoken to her. She still wasn’t sure what the whole cutie thing was about. Carmilla had probably forgotten her name and couldn’t bother to ask what it was.
“Sure, we can meet in the library if you want. How about at six?” Laura asked, hoping she would get a decent reply from the Slytherin girl.
“See you then cutie. Oh, and you can keep the fur ball until then.” Carmilla said as she got up to leave.
Giving up on any chance of a normal conversation, Laura headed back up to the castle with the Puffskein. She decided she would just play with the adorable fur ball and do some homework while she waited for her meeting with Carmilla that night.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> *Shameless plug* useless-lesbian-vampire-cat on tumblr :)
3. Making Progress
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So this is a short (somewhat filler) chapter because I haven't updated recently. I promise the next one will be longer!
Laura walked into the Library and began to look for Carmilla. She finally found the girl in an empty spot at the very back. Carmilla hadn’t seen Laura yet and Laura stopped to look at the Slytherin girl.
Carmilla was sitting in a chair with her feet propped up on the table. She was reading what looked to be a book in some language Laura didn’t recognize and she was wearing black-rimmed glasses. Carmilla seemed like a different person completely lost in her book.
The Puffskein started making a loud humming noise, apparently angry that it wasn’t the center of Laura’s attention.
Carmilla jerked up but started to relax when she saw what the noise came from. She pulled off her glasses and looked up at Laura, who finally snapped out of her transfixion. |
4fb3d5b9ebad4d9987c63852d7ecd59a | ['8186e01798f54125b6f9a6ffe1b5f509'] | "The 'ell they didn't..... " he muttered. "Wait, how are we traveling by map anyway?" "Easy," Luffy explained. "There's an app for it!" "Seriously, mate?" he asked skeptically. "Yeah, nearly everything has an app these days." This bout of what seemed to be outright stupidity brought Zoro into full-fledged Q&A mode regarding the logic of this show. What a brave, yet futile soldier... "Hold up, how the bloody hell do we have apps in this world?" he demanded. "Last I checked, we don't even have phones; just differently designed snails!" "The same place I got my straw hat." Luffy answered bluntly. "Which is....?" "My hometown of Foosha!" he exclaimed. "That just raises further questions!" Zoro shouted, exasperated." "Not really; Apple opened up a store near the bar I got my straw hat." Luffy explained. "You'd be surprised how many stores pop up these days."
This only made him more and more frustrated by Luffy's lack of sense. "How is that possible?! I haven't seen any and I've been living in the bloody East Blue all me life!" he demanded. "Yeah, but you've been living in a dojo on an island where electricity isn't a thing; makes sense that you're at least a bit out of touch." Luffy retorted. "Besides, it's an abridged anime, we're not exactly Vulcan-levels of logical here." Tired of trying to get a decent answer, Zoro gave up and sighed, "Fair enough." After ten minutes of traveling by map, Zoro decided to break the silence. "Well, since ye brought it up, care to tell me how ye got that straw hat?" he asked. Luffy laid back. smiled and replied, "Since you asked so politely, I will. Besides, the plot wants me to, anyway." Cue the flashback! Luffy began to narrate his story as the scene turns to a sleepy, tropical village. "It all starts back in Foosha Village;" he began. "Which, in retrospect sounds like a Pokemon town ripoff."
The scene takes us to the village's bar, where a tiny version of Luffy is sitting on a barstool with the a pirate captain with red hair and a straw hat. "These weird pirates entered the bar," Luffy continued. "And their captain sat next to me with a small box that he sat beside him. The guy looked like a red-headed Jack Sparrow cosplayer, and he certainly drank like one!" The red-haired captain belched a hearty laugh. "Man this rum's good!" he chuckled. The red-haired pirate, named Shanks, looks to the young Luffy; the latter whom was staring intently. Uncomfortable, Shanks sweated a bit and asked, "Can I help you with something, son?" A minute of silence was between them when Luffy finally broke it. "Hi, I'm Luffy!" Another bit of silence, making Shanks more uneasy. "Do you belong to someone here or...?" he asked. "Sort of, but I'm hoping to get into pirating." Luffy replied. "Can I join your crew?"
Unimpressed by his child physique, Shanks chuckled a bit and said, "Talk to me when your testicles drop, kid; then, we'll talk." "Hey, watch it! I'm strong enough to take on ten men!" bragged Luffy angrily. "To prove it, I'll eat whatever's in that box!" He pointed to the box Shanks had beside him. "Really? Okay, but be warned it's a-" Too late, Luffy gulped the whole thing, stem and all. "...Devil Fruit." Shanks finished. "Welp, so much for that." Panting a bit after he was done swallowing, Luffy's smile widened. "Can I join now?" he asked. "Hell, no." Shanks said bluntly. " But I just-!" Luffy protested. "I never said I agreed to your bet. Besides, now you can't swim!" pointed out Shanks.
Not fazed, Luffy looked confused. "Your point being?" "My point being, " Shanks explained, "Is that just suppose someone made you walk the plank. The last thing I want is child labor enforces bashing me for letting a Devil Fruit using child die on my watch! Besides, they've been watching me like a hawk since the Goldenweek incident." "Damn you, child labor laws." grumbled Luffy. "Wait, who's Goldenweek?" he then asked. "You'll find out in Season 2."
A short time later, a tall, dark man walked in with a few other men and walked towards Shanks. "So, we meet again, Ginger?" he taunted. "Higuma, we've been over this; don't call me that." said Shanks, annoyed at his very presence. "Why, did I touch a nerve?" Higuma said back. "Heh, just as I expect from a straw hat wearing wimp. Seriously, you're riding Gol D. Roger's coattails to infamy with your precious legends of Devil Fruits and all that bullshit. You're just an attention-whore." Being 7 years old, Luffy didn't take his new "friend" Shanks' mockery lightly.
"I'll show YOU an attention-whore!" he shrieked. He tried to attack Higuma to no avail. Promptly, Higuma grabbed him, took the money from the bar's register and made his way to a boat on the docks. "Wait, aren't you a mountain bandit? Why are you leaving by sea?" asked Shanks. Higuma rolled his eyes and replied, "They police'll be expecting that! Also..." Not satisfied in mocking Shanks, Higuma tosses Luffy into the sea; whom naturally can't swim. As Shanks bails him out, Higuma is congratulating himself for being so "clever". | 3f9c04864eb244aea7c219105cdc8f3e | ['8186e01798f54125b6f9a6ffe1b5f509'] | "So, he's Heath Ledger?" asked Luffy. Pretty much. That reminds me, it seems that Luffy's still seems to be, despite all his rage, still just a rat in a cage. "Very funny." Luffy grumbled. "Hey, Nami, where's the key for this damn cage, anyway?" Nami smiled and opened her hand. "Here, I swiped it from Buggy before the cannon fired." she said. Luffy's smile grew exponentially. "Fantas-!" he started. But as he was about to free himself, Murphy's Law stepped in and made the key disappear. "tic." he finished. As it turns out, a small dog ate the key in one gulp just as Luffy was about to use it.
Luffy just sat there, dumbfounded. "Did- Did that dog just eat the only key that can get me out of here?" he stuttered in rage. "Unfortunately, yes." Nami admitted. "At least you'll have the satisfaction of knowing it'll be paying for that dearly through its digestive tract." "Forget his digestive tract, I'll make him pay the old fashioned way!" Luffy grabbed the dog's neck and went Homer Simpson on its ass. As this dog neck-wrangling is occurring, a short man in glasses and...arguably the most ridiculous haircut in season 1 of this show, and that's saying a LOT, appears.
"Hey, knock it off!" the man demanded. "I'll have you know I work with PETA!" "And I should care because...?" inquired Luffy, unconcerned. "Because I'm also the mayor of this town!" answered the man. Luffy remained unimpressed by this unwanted offspring of a sheep and Cobi. "...And I should be intimidated because....?" he added. "I know people. Powerful people." the mayor explained in threatening detail. "People who just so happen to know how to make certain Devil Fruit users disappear." "The HELL they will!" shouted Luffy. "Zoro, kick his ass while I try to punch my way out of this cage!" "Sure thing-GHAAA!" Suddenly, Zoro was in immense pain, and collapsed to the ground. A closer examination shows that he in fact has a stab wound near his stomach.
"How the hell did you get that?!" Luffy exclaimed. " Connect the dots, Luffy!" said Nami, rubbing her temples. "He said he tangled with clown goons in the last episode!" "Oh, right." Luffy remembered. "Sorry, I kind of have the memory of a goldfish when it comes to past episodes. Either way, I'm still gonna try getting out of here." "Perhaps I can be of assistance!" said a voice.
A new challenger approaches. A strange man on a purple-manes lion stomped into view, the lion licking its chops. Luffy jumped a few inches and hit the top of his cage. "Ow! Sweet Orlando Bloom, who are you? WHAT are you?! You look like a macaque that cosplayed as Ice Bear!" exclaimed Luffy, dumbfounded by this bizarre Lion King fanboy. "Watch it, Narrator; as I am Mohji, the Beast Tamer. And one of the main commanders of Buggy's crew." the man said angrily. The lion roared in annoyance at the lack of his acknowledgement. "Oh, and this is my bodyguard, Richie. He's the black sheep cousin of Simba." Mohji continued. The lion roared again. For the sake of a lack of subtitles, we will be writing what his roars mean as oppose to constant parenthesis clogging up the page. "I thought we agreed to not mention that every time you introduced me!" Richie roared.
"If I don't mention it, someone else will ask and make it worse!" retorted Mohji. "Asshole..." muttered Richie. "Hey, do you want me to break out the Neutering Drill again?" threatened Mohji. "....No..." RIchie whimpered. "Didn't think so." Mohji said, smiling in satisfaction. "Now, where were we? Oh, yes; we were breaking you out to beat you to a bloody pulp the old-fashioned way." And with a mighty pound from Richie's paw, the cage was broken into many pieces. "Thank you." said Luffy happily. "And now, with two hands! Gum-Gum....YOU-SPIN-ME-RIGHT-ROUND-BABY!" And as the name implies, he grabs Richie after he twists his arms like a Twizzler, and throws him to the ground head-first.
Mohji was thrown off Richie, and he landed face-first into the pavement. He stood back up and clenched his fists in rage. "RICHIE! You bastard, he had one day til retirement! That's it, I'm gonna-" Mohji decided. He was about to attack when Luffy interrupted. "And now, Gum-Gum.....I-AM-A-MAN!" One large amount of punches later, and Mohji is out cold. "Well, that's one pointless character down." Nami decided. A few hours later, while everyone was busy listening the Mayor talk about how Iams and Beneful are the devil, Mohji at very least limped away to his boss.
Needless to say, Buggy was shocked by Mohji's condition. "Mohji?! What the flashing hell happened to you?!" demanded Buggy. "You look like you just got knocked on your ass! Repeatedly!" "You're not far off, sir." groaned Mohji. "I was attacked and defeated, and Richie may or may not be dead, I can't tell." "Was it a ninja?" asked Buggy. "Thank Gol D. Roger, no." Mohji replied. "It was Randy Savage, wasn't it?!" gasped Buggy. "Oh man, I knew that trip to Wrestlemania was gonna haunt me..." " No, no, it wasn't him." assured Mohji. "Well, they're the only two things that can defeat my army effectively..." Buggy pondered. "Cabaji, do check out this Chuck Norris-ripoff, will you?" From behind, a shadow with a glistening smile stood up. "With pleasure, bubbeleh..." Cabaji replied. The mysterious Cabaji snickered at the idea of beating this newfound threat to a pulp. |
df3a3c6cd91645d784e218b7a24025f5 | ['8189250085d540c4a59bddb1875a6c0d'] | “The narrator, Jack—god I just feel so many things about him. He’s the narrator of a story that isn’t his, but yet it is his story. And his relationship with the Stantons, it’s so terribly ordinary and yet so tragic. It just makes me wonder why friends drift apart. Why do they have to?” Changmin rambles.
“I know, it’s sad. But don’t you think there’s hope? For him and Anne?”
“I’m not sure. She seems hell bent on never loving him.”
“What if she loves him anyways?” Yoochun whispers.
Changmin catches his breath. “Well that would be…interesting.”
A beat of silence, and then “I seem to remember having promised to play a song on the piano for you.”
Changmin snaps back into focus and nods. “Yeah, that would be great. Do…do you really know how to play?”
Yoochun grins and walks to the piano and strokes the cover. “Of course I do…she’s the only one who understands me sometimes.”
Changmin has no idea what that means but then Yoochun starts playing. He closes his eyes and leans over the instrument. His fingers linger and then fly and jump between keys, scaling ten or twenty in under a second. He produces a tune that Changmin has never heard before. Something original. Something from his soul. Changmin wonders how he can feel the emotions of the music without words. It’s nothing like reading a book—there’s nothing to be told or read. Only a heart to be felt.
And then it’s over.
Changmin has to bite his tongue to keep himself from whining for more because he enjoyed it that much.
“That was incredible,” is what he settles for instead.
“Thank you.”
“How did you learn how to play? How long have you been playing?” Changmin wonders aloud, curiosity getting the best of him.
Yoochun doesn’t seem to mind. He only chuckles and closes the piano cover.
“I’ve been learning for as long as I can remember, and I still haven’t unlocked her full potential yet, I don’t think. I still have much to learn.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone play an instrument live before. Definitely not in front of my own two eyes. Thank you for that. I really enjoyed it.”
“You’re very welcome. I like playing. Sometimes I feel like it’s the only way I can express myself.”
Changmin bites his lip. Was that song an expression of Yoochun’s thoughts? But it was so complicated. There were happy and sad parts and fast and slow parts all woven together to create one beautiful piece.
“Would you…like to learn?”
Changmin’s eyes go wide. “Seriously? You’d teach me?”
“Y-yeah. I would. If you want to learn,” Yoochun says hesitantly.
“I’ve never even thought about it…no one I know has ever played an instrument. Except, now, you…”
“So, do you want to?”
Changmin grins widely. “Yes please.”
Eventually they fall into a routine. Once a week, Changmin comes over to Yoochun’s place (house? bookstore? library? ancient artifact lost in time?) and bounces up and down on his heels in anticipation for his lesson but Yoochun will chide him and say they should read for a while first.
Changmin’s reading pace becomes faster and faster and he devours books. He wonders why he never found reading from his tablet this much fun—maybe it had something to do with how he’d always get distracted by games and messages, or maybe it’s just that being around Yoochun is calming and he makes damned good hot chocolate.
Changmin learns about the great American authors and falls in love with their harshly realistic views of the world. He feels his heart twist at their pained descriptions of the innocence of children and their subtle revelations of how war experiences ruined any semblance of innocence for them. Then he reads books and poems by the Europeans and falls in love with their flowery words woven together to create dream-like reads. He is fascinated by the British era of hedonism and how beauty and lust intertwined to create a sinful picture of cherry-red lips bruised from kisses and lovely brown pupils dilated wide from drug use—and all for the sake of pleasure. He goes back, so far back in time when he reads the works of Greek philosophers and wonders how it can be possible that the world has changed so little in thousands of years.
He becomes a voracious reader of Yoochun’s collection of Eastern literature as well. He marvels at the work of the Middle Eastern mystics and their loving description of life and the universe. He finds himself in awe of the Chinese poets’ delicate descriptions of the natural elements and the unimportance of humans in the grandeur of nature. And he pores over the pages of the Tale of Genji, the very first novel, written by a woman in a time where women were worth next to nothing.
He travels back and forth through time and listens to Yoochun play piano pieces from ages past and watches as he creates pieces from the depths of his own soul.
He learns bits and pieces. Here and there he picks up a chord, a strand, a movement and a melody. Slowly but surely, he is learning something no one in this city, in this country, has learned for generations. Except Yoochun.
“What if people forget?” Changmin asks one day, hanging on to every chord Yoochun strikes over white and black keys.
“Then much will be lost,” he replies.
“I don’t want the world to forget. I want everyone to hear you play. It’s so beautiful,” Changmin whispers, allowing himself to lean into Yoochun’s side on the piano bench.
Yoochun stills and grips Changmin’s hand.
“I don’t want it to be forgotten, either. But the world will always change. Nothing can ever stay the same. Nothing lasts forever. Nothing good, nothing bad.”
_But I want this to last forever_ Changmin thinks, and he grips Yoochun’s hand just a bit tighter. | 3f186443254c4f72987b2cba0ad3b9c0 | ['8189250085d540c4a59bddb1875a6c0d'] | “Professor” Kim approaches his student from behind and stoops down low and whispers hot and filthy in his ear “you’ve been a bad student, Mr. Shim, only attending my class once a month. Just who do you think you are?”
Changmin shivers and doesn’t turn around. Jaejoong licks the shell of his ear and reaches under the desk to palm Changmin through his trousers. “You’ll need to be punished.”
Changmin shuts his books and leads the way to the private study room he’d reserved for the evening.
Jaejoong looks at Changmin coolly, like he’s studying a specimen he’s going to dissect. “Take off your jacket, student Shim.”
Changmin’s mouth goes dry and he unbuttons his coat slowly, eyes cast downward from shyness that’s seventy-five perfect sincere and twenty-five percent part of the role-play.
“Your shirt, too.”
The younger boy draws a shaky breath and shoots a glance at the door to make sure it’s been locked. Then he takes off his black t-shirt and drops it to the ground at his feet.
“Look at me.”
Changmin looks.
“Take off your pants.”
He unbuttons his jeans, then undoes the zipper. He pushes them down past his knees and they pool at his ankles and he steps out of them. All that’s left are his briefs, through which his erection is painfully obvious.
“Get on the desk. Stroke yourself until I tell you to stop.”
Changmin whimpers and follows his professor’s orders. He clambers onto the desk and Jaejoong appreciates the view of his ass. He sits in the center and leans back on one hand and spreads his legs shyly. He reaches down and rubs himself over his briefs slowly, almost as if he’s teasing himself. Then he reaches inside his underwear and takes his sex in his hand, hot and hard and throbbing. He bites back a moan and fights to keep his eyes open as he presses his thumb against the slit—hard. He presses until it’s almost painful and gathers pearly drops of pre-come.
“P-professor…help,” Changmin gasps.
“Tsk, tsk. You don’t even bother to stop by my office all semester and now just before finals you’re going to ask me for help? I don’t think so, dear student.”
Changmin sobs and then takes his dick out of his briefs and sweeps his hand up and down the hardened length. It thrills him to no end that if he makes one sound too loud he’ll be heard and someone will knock on their door.
Jaejoong watches calmly, the fire in his eyes hidden behind those thick-rimmed glasses.
Changmin is almost there, hips naturally bucking up into his grip, trying desperately to meet more friction.
“Stop.”
_No!_ Changmin wants to scream, but he bites his lip hard and tears his hand away. His chest heaves with heavy breaths and his face looks utterly broken. Beads of sweat fall down the sides and his hair sticks to his brow. His cheeks are red as rose petals and his lips are parted and pink from biting.
“Good boy. Very good boy. You deserve a reward for that.”
Jaejoong approaches him slowly and places his hands on either side of Changmin’s narrow hips. He leans his head down and takes Changmin into his mouth.
“Ohhh, _hyung_ I’m—oh…”
“You taste good, Changminnie.”
He looks up at the younger boy from under dark, long lashes and Changmin loses it—he comes long and hard down Jaejoong’s throat and the older male takes it, swallowing until the very last drop.
Later, back in their dorm, Jaejoong will stroke Changmin’s naked chest and kiss his jaw and giggle “I like libraries,” and Changmin will grow embarrassingly hard from just the memory.
The combined noise of doctor’s heeled loafers clacking against tiled floors, wooden doors sliding open and closed to bear more and more bad news and medications, the steady _beep, beep, beep_ of the monitor and the nearly inaudible _drip, drip, drip_ of the IV amounts to no more than thirty decibels. It’s quiet enough that Changmin can hear his heart shattering like glass over the sounds of the hospital where Jaejoong lies in deep sleep, his small body finally having reached its limit.
Changmin grips Jaejoong’s hand is both of his and kisses it over and over again, tears soaking both their skin. He knows this will be over soon but it’s the idea, the possibility of this being the last time that terrifies Changmin both day and night.
“Wake up,” he begs. “Just tell me you’ll be okay.”
A few days later, Jaejoong is all better. Just before he leaves he pins Changmin to the door of his hospital room and kisses him like fire—reckless and wild and hot.
“It’s okay if I’m frail and I have to go to the hospital sometimes, okay? But you. You are strong and beautiful and healthy and you will _never_ let yourself get this sick, do you understand me?”
“Hyung, that’s not—”
Jaejoong shuts him up with his tongue down Changmin’s throat and fists wound tight in Changmin’s shirt.
“I _said_ , do you understand me?”
Changmin tears up despite his best efforts and kisses the life out of Jaejoong. He was made for this. He was made to fall apart under Jaejoong’s command, his voice, and his hands. “I understand, okay. Fine. I’ll stay healthy. I promise.”
What most fans don’t know is that for all the laughter and talking that goes on during a broadcast, the studio is actually terribly quiet. Just twenty decibels. They have to have almost pin-drop silence for the voices of the cast to actually be recorded properly.
“Quiet on the set!” the director calls, and the boys straighten up in their seats and get ready for their nth interview of the week.
(But between scenes, Jaejoong will drag Changmin to the bathroom behind the set and watch Changmin sink to his knees and kiss his pretty, flushed cock while they struggle to make no sound at all). |
171de4911bff4f69a1820ba815bd7517 | ['819d823820da4105be5240e3a45b5c14'] | A knock interrupts Lexa's reading from the bed. she looks at the door, knowing that if its her mom she will let herself in. then the knock continues with persistence this time around. Lexa then smirks, returning her gaze on her book but not reading.
"You can enter."
The door opens and Clarke walks in. Of all the years of knowing Lexa and visiting her home, this is the first time Clarke is entering Lexa's room. whenever Clarke knocked on Lexa's room when she came, Lexa would emerge from the room carrying books and leading her to the study room or sometimes outside when she needed the sun but never in her room.
The room is big, bigger than what she imagined because it's no secret that Lexa comes from a rich family. The room was Purple, a book shelf stood at the far right accompanied by a coffee table and a large comfy sofa. Clarke could see a walk in closet at the far end at the left was a closed door, she assumed that was the bathroom. when her eyes landed on Lexa, the first thing she noticed was the long legs slipping out of a yellow dress. It took her all the energy from the food she eat to look away and focus on Lexa's face which was hidden by her book.
"Took you long enough." Lexa said from her book.
a confused Clarke responded. "what do you mean, I didn't tell you I was coming."
Lexa drops the book neatly on the bed. she is still wearing her smirk. "Griffin, why else do you think I told you about my plans today." Clarke blinks in realization and blushes a little, clearing her throat.
"Anyway..."
"You agree to us kissing." Lexa cuts her off...Clarke fights the urge to roll her eyes right now.
"Anyway. yes I agree but, we need boundaries." Lexa sits up, her dress moving even further up her legs. she stands to retain her book to its place on the shelf which is full of Text books, novels, magazines, travel books and other that Clarke can't place.
"Like what kind. I mean we already know its fake. so we kiss convincingly in public, hold hands, maybe surprise each other and stuff like a real couple, but only us know its fake."
"How far should the kiss go. and I think we should practice." Lexa walks to the closet. comes back with shoes in her hands. puts one on and faces Clarke.
"we don't need practice Griffin, you already know how to kiss not so? and the kiss should go as far as it can go." Clarke now rolls her eyes. "Lets go,"
"Where?"
"Fashion World, Griffin, its you I was waiting for." Lexa is now at the door, waiting for Clarke to catch up. "You are my girlfriend now, this is the first step. come on babe." Clarke lets out a laugh at the pet name. Standing to walkout of the room. when Clarke passes by Lexa, she can't help the smell of Lexa getting to her head and feeling some type of way. Lexa just looks her over before closing the door.
2. GAME OF LOVE
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Clarke and Lexa are ready to try out there plan at school.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This chapter is romantic I think. I hope you will like it.
>
> ENJOY...
**CRAZY LEXA: 06:00AM**
__let me find you by your locker at 06:30_ _
Clarke rolls off the bed, rubbing the sleep off her eyes. She reads the message twice before realizing what it means. She forgot her arrangement with Lexa, now she as to take a quick shower because lets face it Clarke is always late, always. Clarke rushes to the bathroom, quickly brushes her teeth, runs to the dresser, like literally. She selects the firsts clothes that comes to her sight. which is a dark Blue skinny jean and a white button down shirt.
Clarke is ready in ten minuets and is already at her car when she realizes she's still in her house shoes. She runs back in the house, then back outside again in remarkable time. This is the first Clarke has moved her feet this fast. Last time she ran, was when her neighbor's dog chased down the street, last year.
***
Clarke in school by 06:28. She is panting against her locker when Finn walks over to her.
"Clarke," He says her name so soft, like his afraid if he says any louder she might break. Clarke turns her head to face him and just like that her heart feels heavy. looking at him now reminds her of the first time she noticed him, Cute, honest, funny and charming.
"What do you want Finn?" She spits out, letting her tone sound as harsh as she can master. Before he can say something, a voice calls after her and there is no doubt who it is.
"Griffin!" Lexa approaches the two with a huge grin on her face, her focus is centered on Clarke, giving Finn no form of recognition. "I have being looking all over for you." Now she takes notice of Finn as Clarke gives her an assuring smile. "Collins, that was a good game on Saturday."
"Yeah, those losers had it coming." Finn's eyes jump from Lexa to Clarke when Lexa puts a hand around Clarke's waist pulling her closer to her that there is no space left between them Clarke can smell her perfume which has a full affect on her.
Lexa nods in agreement before bringing her attention back to Clarke. She turns Clarke's head so that they are staring into each other's eyes. Lexa can see Clarke's eyes change into a deeper shade of Blue. "Last night was amazing, let me take you out for lunch today." | a977cca978074f49965570821f3aa1e6 | ['819d823820da4105be5240e3a45b5c14'] | "It's tasty but am still going to stay with my Chocolate but because you took your time to buy this for me i will just suffer through finishing this cup." Lexa watches her for a while before looking out head of the window. "So tell me Clarke, is fin something to you?" here we go with the questions again. "Why do you ask?" "That's not a answer, Clarke" Clarke rolls her eyes at her, is she jealous? "I can ask you the same thing." Lexa looks at her with her jaw tight. "Meaning?" "costia?" Lexa has a frown on her brows. " Costia? what about her?" Clarke Costia is my friend." "Right and you think Bellamy and Fin are not ?" Lexa scrunches her head in frustration. "Clarke." she says it has a warning "They look at you different." Clarke takes this opportunity to let her know how she feels about Costia. wait why are they even talking about this? we are not a couple, are we? " And how does Costia look at you?" "Why are you bring in Costia?" Lexa's voice takes a high pitch at the end. its clear that she's not happy. just when Clarke thinks this tutoring will not work. "we should get going, I don't want to miss that test. " Clarke watches as a smile appears on Lexa's lips. This is all kinds of things. look at her smiling like a fool. this girl is driving me crazy each day that passes. Lexa can't explain what she feels for the girl sitting next to her. the things she's doing is beyond her normal self. **** When they got to Clarkes's place, there is a comfortable silence between them. Lexa stands in the living-room, taking in everything from the art paintings to the décor. she moves to the dining table, removes her books and takes a sit and crosses her hands over her chest and waits for Clarke who is in the Kitchen getting some drinks. She retains with two glasses of juice. "I see you are prepared." Lexa takes a sip from her glass while holding the her gaze with Clarke. "I don't miss an opportunity, Clarke." Clarke gasps at the sight before her. Lexa's eyes are a light shade of Green, she takes her seat and flips through pages of the text book avoiding Lexa's eyes. they spend an hour on the topic, when Clarke decides to steal a glance at Lexa, thinking she must be writing her essay but she meets a deep shade of Green staring right back at her. all the sudden Clarke's throat is dry, when she stares away her glass is empty. Lexa should stop looking at her like that all she'll drop dead to the floor. "Are you done with your essay?" Lexa does not respond for a while, she just stares at Clarke with a smug on her face. Because the pressure and the wetness building faster than she could imagine. "Am not sure what to do I guess." Clarke nobs and quickly heads to the kitchen, she needs as much air as she can get away from Lexa. In the Kitchen, Clarke drinks water from the tap, taking slow breaths to calm her nerves. Just when she thinks she can walk to Lexa and pretend that there is no uncomfortable heat between her legs. Lexa walks behind her. she is standing so close, Clarke can feel her breath on her neck which is not helping with the build-up "I really want you, Clarke." she says it with so much hunger in her voice. "Lexa, I need you, right now." she does not need to tell her twice. Lexa turns her around, taking her lips between hers. sucking and biting her lip. Clarke lets out a moan, pushing herself forward, pressing their bodies together. Lexa grips her waist, her hands find themselves under her shirt. Before her senses her in place, Lexa's long fingers find there way down her stomach, her fingers dip into the dripping crease of her cunt. "Fuck, Clarke you are so wet." she runs her index finger over her swollen clit. a sharp tingles run through her cunt, and she aches into the touch, grinding harder has Lexa rubs it like an angry scrubbing contest. Lexa finds her neck, sucks it hard, she's sure it will leave a bruise. she can feel her orgasm building rapidly, Lexa's moan is is throaty and low as she dips down to tease at her entrance, she pushes in thrusting hard. Clarke lets out a scream just when she hears a car engine pull up in her drive way. All shit mom's here. all fuck mom's here, "Lexa" she tries to stop her but Lexa seems to not have heard her. she keeps pumping in and out, sucking and biting her neck, jeez this girl will kill her, but they have to stop. she hears the door of the car close and her heart pounds so hard from fear of being caught and from the oncoming orgasm. "Lexa, Lexa mom is hear." Lexa grunts something over her neck but does not stop, her thumb comes over her clit and rubs against it, Clarke holding her moan. the keys are heard to the door, and just when the door opens. Lexa quickly pulls away. she opens the tap from the sink, rubs soap on her hands and starts washing her hands while Clarke arranges her dress in a dissent manner. Her mother pops her head at the door. "Clarke?" "In the Kitchen" Lexa has that stupid smug on her face.
5. Pick A Side
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Lexa needs to make a choice, she is afraid to fall but boy does she know that she has fallen hard for the blue eyed girl.
**Notes for the Chapter:** |
f267f63260694154b612db96b4a75e68 | ['819e55d8434c4b49a21b3c311d3a0698'] | “We would have been here an hour ago if it wasn't so hard to resist you” Then Stephen directs his smile at Tony before softly kissing his temple. The smile as he retracts becomes wicked. It’s then that Tony realises what Stephen’s doing.
“Steph” Tony scolds. Between them they share a conversation using just their eyes.
Stephen bypasses all the soundless requests for him to be an adult and dives in to nip behind Tony’s ear.
Tony jerks out of his hold and shoves him with no real force, trying to hold back a smile and a blush whilst glaring.
With mischief in his eyes Stephen parts Tony’s lips with a thumb on his chin and devours him with a filthy, open mouthed, tongue sliding kiss he’d never usually think to perform in public, in front of so many eyes.
Tony can't quite close his mouth when Stephen's pulled back, too taken aback and flustered for even that simple function.
“Steve I’m sorry about him h-” Stephen cuts him off with and endless stream of firm kisses against kiss lips.
“Stephen!” he attempts to swat at his boyfriend as he keeps kissing. He seems to have forgotten Steve in favour of amusing himself with the likely redness of Tony’s face.
He tries to reprimand him several times, tries to bat him away only to get another string of kisses.
Eventually he dissolves into fits of giggles, quickly passing them on to Stephen as he wraps his arms around Tony’s waist and presses more teeth than lips to Tony’s forehead, cheeks and nose as he grins.
Like a black cloud Steve storms away, letting the bright, blinding sun have its fun.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Tumblr; Wifeofanime | 2a9a5e09c170444abff1d76a55951aad | ['819e55d8434c4b49a21b3c311d3a0698'] | "Oh? How's that going for you?" I ask conversationally, coking my head to the side curiously. Well, he certainly is attractive, he can easily pull in beautiful people regardless of how high their standards are.
The man purses his lips and glances down, easing all that intensity from his pupils off of me. Then, his eyes return to my face as he flashes his perfect teeth in a smile. It's gone quickly and replaced by a soft laugh. His shoulders bob and his eyes shrink, wrinkling at the edges as he does so. That sound... God. I could listen to that gentle melody for the rest of my life.
"I don't know, the most beautiful people don't really catch on" he says as his laugh fades away, his eyes searching my face for an answer I don't know the question of.
Not knowing what to say, I shrug, offer him an apologetic smile and get back to cooking, ignoring the feeling of those clear eyes on the back of my neck, making my hairs stand on end.
"So Mr Barista, what do I call you?" I consider telling him it's none of his business but I have a name tag that's supposed to go on the pocket of black dress shirt for a reason. Taking the badge I forgot to put on out of my pocket, I place It on the counter in front of him and return to chop vegetables.
"Yuuri Katsuki" he breathes, almost fondly, every letter perfectly pronounced and tentative, like he's reading the name of the love of his life. Again, taken by curiosity, I look over my shoulder at him. His fingers hold the badge like it's made from glass and not metal. He's hot a small smile on his face and his eyes are fixed on the letters, bright and full of awe. This unusual man is making my heart annoyingly warm.
"You have a lovely name Yuuri" he sticks his large hand out with a smile that'd make even the sun jealous. His gentle words and the way he rolls my name off his tongue with that deep voice have my cheeks getting warm all over again. If Sara ever saw me like this I'd never hear the end of it.
He has a firm grip and shake and I match that although I'm melting inside. He doesn't need to know my weaknesses. It's when they know your weakness that people are truly dangerous.
"I'm Victor Nikiforov" he says, flashing a bigger smile and ending the handshake. But he's still holding my hand and now that it's no longer a formal greeting it feels so intimate.
His hand is warm and calloused un like my smaller smooth one. If I didn't wear gloves my palms would be shredded from the stupid amount of infrastructure I've climbed in life.
"Thank you Mr Nikiforov" I mumble, freaking out about holding hands with the hottest man I've ever seen after only meeting him two minutes ago. This is dangerous.
"Please, call me Victor" his hand slides out of mine slowly, tickling my palm with his fingers as he goes, increasing the tingling feeling dancing inside me.
"Have you worked at the embassy long? I haven't seen you before." I ask, watching him walk over to the one stool that faces the stove, leaving me no escape from his intensity as I deal with the rice. I only have two other customers, this guy could sit on one of the nice tables by the window but no, he sits right in front of my face.
"I'm new to London actually, I started work last week" I nod at his words as I clip my name tag on. I've only been here for about four weeks so we're both rather fresh to the area.
"Usually I skip lunch because I'm too busy. I'm so glad I was hungry enough to come here." I spare the eyes that are now level with mine a quick glance as I assemble all the food in his bowl. Of course that radiant smile is still there. I offer a smaller one back as I place the steaming bowl in front of him along with cutlery.
"Well Victor, you really should take better care of yourself" I meant the words to be friendly and conversational as a means to train my people skills but Victor's reaction is something I have to double take because his cheeks are pink. I'm forced to blink to see if I'm imagining it but this insanely hot guy is really blushing, surprised eyes glued to me and all.
Customers approach the counter and it's my saving grace, my excuse to escape his emotion. He really needs to keep that in check.
The woman asks for a latte and I get to it, working fast because it's become muscle memory.
"You have a nice uniform" the little girl with the woman says.
"Thank you, I like it too" I smile generically at her as I tap the details into the cash register. I don't like children. They're a liability, nothing more. I do like my uniform though, mainly because it's almost entirely black and I love the colour. My assassin name is Black Knight for a reason. Other than black there are hints of hot pink in it; I always have my sleeves rolled up and the inside of the dress shirt is all pink so that shows, and the top of my pocket is pink and the same applies when I roll the bottom of my trousers up. Also my apron is pink. I used to hate wearing it but it's really grown on me.
After I give the woman her drink and they leave I turn back to Victor who's in the middle of chewing.
"I like your uniform too" he says after he swallows, his adams apple bobbing in his pretty neck. |
7779505fab6f4ca1a29d3a5a2c40da69 | ['819f03936d7a4f96b0e175d2a023ed8b'] | Jay looked at the files and through the expense reports, bank statements and transfer logs. Nick said, "we've been given a month to conclude this and turn it over to the IRS."
Eager to get to work, Jay said, "then, let's get to work." They drunk coffee and got to work.
Earlier that morning, Liv rested on her knees on the floor putting clothes on Baily's clothes for the day. "Put your arms in."
Bailey was giving her a hard time about what clothes to wear, "I don't like this shirt." "Bailey put it on. We have to get going."
Shelly walked into the room and plopped down on the bed, "I'm ready." Liv turned to gaze at her and was satisfied with her attire, "go do your hair."
Shelley sighed, "can't I just put it up?" The look on her mom's face had her getting off the bed and making her way to the bathroom.
Long curly hair wasn't the easiest to maintain, but her mom had shown her how to. So, she grabbed the water bottle and began to spray her hair until it was almost dripping wet.
Taking the heat protectant, she sprayed a generous amount through her locks and pulled the blow dryer from under the sink.
To muffle the sound, she closed the door and began to style her hair. It took ten minutes, but it looked good and she knew her mom would approve.
Liv walked with a fully dressed Baily down the stairs to the kitchen, "girls, we have a few minutes to eat breakfast."
They sat at the table, and she put bowls of oatmeal in front of them, "don't get dirty." Liv looked at them and made sure they were dressed, hair presentable and fed before she ran upstairs to get ready.
Dressing quickly, she hurried with her makeup and rushed down the stairs. "Girls, run upstairs and brush your teeth. I'll start the car."
They did as they were told and came back down minutes later with an impatient mother waiting in the driveway.
The drive was quick, and they walked into the Dentist's office. Liv was already out of breath when she signed them in.
Bailey and Shelly sat in a seat and began bickering loudly. "I was sitting here first, stop it." Bailey pinched her sister, in turn, Shelly punched her arm.
Liv turned red from embarrassment as her girls began to cry and yell in the lobby. "Stop it this instant."
Her eyebrow was raised, and her face turned serious, "so help me, don't make me take you to the bathroom."
Snapping upright and in place, Shelly slid off the seat and moved to the other side of her mom. If they knew one thing, they would get it if they didn't quit.
It was rare that Liv had to physically put her hand on them, but in times of necessity, she didn't feel the least bit guilty for threatening it.
Liv sat back in her chair and thanked herself for downing her coffee before she'd woken the girls up.
Taking them out by herself was stressful and she resented that Nick was always at work. It wasn't that she didn't value his work. It was that he rarely had time to contribute to their lives.
Liv was alone in most things, the only thing keeping her sane was her friend Zoe. Zoe was a lawyer in a different law firm, but they'd met during one of Nick's business dinners.
Since then, they'd been close, and she visited Liv as much as she could. More often than Nick was home or took interest in her.
The loneliness was the worst, she felt invisible in her own marriage. When he was around, he seemed to see right through her.
Snapping out of her thoughts, she looked up as a nurse in pink scrubs called Bailey and Shelly to the back.
Liv stood in the back while the girls settled on the chairs in the back. Dr. Brennan had been their dentist since they were babies.
"Olivia, it's so nice to see you." Liv smiled, "you too." He smiled, "let's see those pearly whites." He poked Baily in the tummy making her giggle.
Opening wide, she sat still as her teeth were cleaned and examined, "beautiful. No cavities. Good girl."
Moving to Shelly, he examined hers, "ah, you are a good brusher. He looked at her front teeth, "did you decide on braces?"
Shelly shook her head, "I don't want to look like a freak." Dr. Brennan laughed, "we all look a little weird growing up. It's your choice to have crooked teeth or straight teeth in a couple years."
Shelly glanced at her mom, "I hate braces." Liv smiled, "I had them when I was your age. I didn't get made fun of. You'll thank you later."
Shelly sighed, "fine." Dr. Brennan said, "we'll schedule to put them on in a couple weeks. How does that sound?"
Nodding, she gave in. Though, she wasn't thrilled that she'd have metal in her mouth for two years.
Liv thanked him and took the girls to the front to schedule another appointment. As she walked them to the car, they already started in on each other.
"Shotgun!" Shelly laughed, "I don't think so, brats go in the back." Rolling her eyes, she said, "you both can sit in the back."
They complained but Liv wasn't dealing with anymore bickering. "Now." Doing what they are told, they took their seats in the back.
Liv couldn't wait until they started school on Monday. This was becoming too much for her and she needed a break.
Sitting on the bench at Nick's office, she tried to relax as the girls played together. Checking her watch for the last twenty minutes, she wondered if he was going to bail on her. | 66191b7bb14a404da55ebd1e43915916 | ['819f03936d7a4f96b0e175d2a023ed8b'] | Giving him a napkin, handing him a drink, wiping his mouth with the frosting that smeared. A feeling in his gut started to form, had she had a child and he hadn't heard?
Then looking at the boy he started to guess his age, he looked like he could be four or five. He was small and skinny. Sloppy brown hair that fell into his face and framed eyes that mirrored hers.
Looking up at her, he could see the childlike appearance and then Robin stopped when he saw the child smile. Deep dimples carved into his face, a smile that mirrored his own.
As if by sheer will, she looked up and caught his eye. The look on his face shown surprise and acknowledgment. He knew.
Regina flushed feeling her cheeks warm and her heart pound in her ears. She turned to Emma feeling helpless.
Robin took the few steps toward the table and the tension filled the space. "Regina?" Her eyes were darting in each direction unable to rest on his.
Roland sat with a bite of cake in his mouth, "who are you?" Robin stared down at him, "Robin."
Roland held out a hand in the gentlemanly way that she'd taught him, "pleasure to meet you." Something inside him snapped, "the pleasure is mine."
He took his small hand and shook it feeling the stickiness of the frosting that coated his skin. His met Regina's now and he asked, "can I have a word with you?"
Regina wanted to scream to avoid, to run away but there was no hiding in such a public space. People would talk, and she would be the talk of the party.
She turned to Roland, "Stay with Emma, I'll be right back." Roland nodded, "okay, mommy." Robin flinched as she heard the motherly term. Mommy. It was sinking in and he was shocked.
Robin led her toward the steps and up until they reached the library, he followed her in and began pacing. The silence was killing her, and she wanted him to blurt it out already.
Though, her own impatience, she appreciated him giving her the amount of time he seemed to need.
After five minutes of complete silence, he finally spoke, "okay, I am trying to put this together in my head and I got nothing. Care to explain?"
"I..." words weren't that easy to say, and she tried to swallow the pain that came with the explanation.
"Explain what?" Frustration washed over him, and he wanted to bite back at her, but he'd learned to control himself. "Please, don't be coy."
Regina sighed, "I'm a mom." Robin watched the flicker of emotion reside and fall between them. "How old is he?"
When her eyes met him, he saw it. The pain the hurt. There was something else he didn't quite recognize. "He's 5."
"He's mine." It wasn't a question but a statement. Her jaw clenched, and her arms crossed over her. "He's mine."
The anger he could see shown that she wasn't quite over what he did to her years ago. "How did this happen? When did you find out?"
Regina pursed her lips and tried not to let the tears fall as she felt them gather, "about a month after I flew to New York. I took a test. The doctor confirmed it a few weeks later."
The breath he was holding came out in a rush and he paced once more. When he stopped, he crouched down and took her hand, "Why didn't you tell me?"
The tears she'd held seeped out to her dismay, "I couldn't. You'd ruined us, and I couldn't be reminded of that. So, I did it on my own."
His hand gripped her lightly, a touch that she didn't know he was possible of. He'd once been possessive and strong but never tender.
The feeling of his fingers brushing her knuckles proved he wasn't the same. It also proved that they were two different people, now.
"Regina, I know that I fucked up and what I did was unforgivable. But this is worse, I have a son. You didn't even tell me."
Shaking her head and her hands-free of him, she stood, "No, I didn't. I battled with myself, but you were too much of a child. There was no way you would've been able to handle it. I barely could."
He knew she was right, he was a kid when she'd left all those years ago. "I wish you'd told me, but I understand why you didn't."
It surprised her how reasonable he was being, a complete difference to what she was used to. Wariness filled her as he paced for a few more moments and then faced her.
"I want to see him."
2. Chapter 2
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> 3 Part Short for New Year
Instinctually, her back shot up rigidly, "I don't think that's the best idea." The tightness of her jaw and stance told him she was serious.
Robin scoffed, "he's my son. Don't you think I have a right to see him? Does he even know about me?" Regina knew he was right, but she was feeling selfish, "I never told him about you because he never asked."
They stood a foot apart and Robin's breath came out in hot slow puffs. He watched her eyes carefully seeing the control she possessed. He envied that once upon a time.
Regina had always been a person of strength and determination, qualities that he'd wished he'd had. Now, he stood watching her resolve not bending.
"If you didn't want me to meet him, why did you come back?" The question clearly caught her off guard, "my father's sick. I needed to be here. I didn't plan it. I didn't even know you were going to be at this party." |
e56ac0683dfd4920b9a95a54772c2524 | ['81af41c6726647809c23fcbc3b6774f9'] | The chin digging into Nathan’s skull lifted off. Then Yuzuru hunched over in his grip. Then he felt Yuzuru’s cheek press against the side of his head. And _then_ he felt a kiss to the temple, and a whispered “love you.”
Nathan’s knees buckled and had a lot of trouble with keeping himself upright so he wouldn’t drop Yuzu into the water. Meanwhile, Yuzuru nuzzled his hair for a moment before straightening back up and resuming smiling peacefully, enjoying the view.
A little while later, after Nathan recovered from the unexpected surge of affection, he heard a tentative request. “Nei-chan? Can you carry me back?”
“What, had enough of water for now?”
“Maybe.”
“Cool.”
Nathan carried him all the way to their towels, and promised to only take a quick soak and get back. He ran until he was deep enough to jump headfirst and disappear completely underwater. He’d always loved swimming. The vast blue plain of the ocean gave him a sense of freedom. He stuck his head out of the water to catch his breath. Yuzuru waved at him, smiling. Nathan saw an opportunity to show off what he could do in the water.
“Hey Yuzu, wanna see a trick?” he yelled out.
“Sure!”
He planned to float on his back. He looked behind his back to check the waves, but he was hit by one just slightly bigger than the others right in the face. Perfect timing. When he was done sputtering and rubbing the salt out of his eyes, he looked back to the beach. Yuzu would definitely be laughing at him for that.
Except he wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t frowning either. The beach towel his boyfriend had been sitting on just moments ago was empty. There was no one else at the beach. Nathan looked around himself in the water, thinking it was a prank and Yuzuru would emerge any moment now to scare him. Nothing. He ran out of the ocean. Looked around the beach. Yuzu was nowhere to be found.
“Yuzu! Yuzu, come out, wherever you are, it’s not funny!”
Nathan was desperate. How could he disappear so quickly? Wait, they brought their phones with them. Yuzu’s wasn’t there. He could call him, right? With shaky hands he unlocked the phone and searched for his contact. It was gone. Their conversation on Line was gone too. But how? How was that possible?
He gathered all their things and ran home as fast as he could, thinking maybe he would be there. He didn’t even have to go inside to meet his mom in the garden.
“Mom, mom, is Yuzu here?”
“Who?”
“Yuzu! My boyfriend!”
His mother was thoroughly confused. “You have a boyfriend?”
Nathan felt very close to crying. “Of course I do, you've met him, let me show you...” he trailed off as he frantically scrolled through his phone to find a picture of them together. He pulled up the picture they took in Saitama after the short program. It looked different. There was no Yuzuru in it and it just seemed like a badly centered selfie.
So he tried another photo. And another. And another. All with the same result – Yuzuru wasn’t in any of them.
He couldn’t stop himself from crying as he muttered softly, “what the fuck, what the fuck, I just want my boyfriend back, what the hell is happening...”
* * *
Nathan woke up in cold sweat and had to take a moment to look around himself. He was in his own room, back at home. In his own bed. Was this real? Had the disappearance act been just a dream? It had to be. It just had to be.
He checked his phone. He had a new text on Line. It was from Yuzuru. He almost heard the chorus of his (unknowing) rinkmates’ voices sarcastically exclaiming, “ooh, it's Yuzu! Is he your _boyfriend_ that you have to talk with him all the time?” His boyfriend indeed, thank you very much.
He opened the message. _“Hey champion, want to be first to see my new costumes? (´・ω・｀)”_ it read. Nathan’s mouth stretched into a wide smile and with a relieved sigh he pressed the phone against his chest. Yeah, having a boyfriend was awesome. But having a boyfriend that was as awesome as Yuzuru Hanyu was even better.
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks for reading! If you want to talk to me, LINK | 5daf60e1b2544ecbb13aa4ac5372e32b | ['81af41c6726647809c23fcbc3b6774f9'] |
Dream Date
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> As it's her birthday, I wrote this little fic just for her. Happy birthday, wifey!
>
> Big thanks to my betas and conspirators, Asma the Panda and LINK.
Nathan rolled over to his side. He couldn’t sleep. There was a cloud of thoughts that wouldn’t leave his mind.
It had been a while. The memory was a little fuzzy, but it still made him smile. Yuzu had taken him on a proper date. They couldn’t have the usual business, like skipping down the street holding hands, but when they were both in Japan after Worlds, Yuzu managed to sneak both of them into a corner of a tiny café in Sendai. They secretly held hands under the table and Yuzu leaned in to whisper translations of the items on the menu right in his ear. After they were done with their secret little date, Yuzu walked him back to his hotel, where they enjoyed each other’s company in all the ways they couldn’t earlier. Nathan had felt like the luckiest man in the entire world. The silly disguise had been _so worth it._
Yuzuru overwhelmed him every time they stood face to face. He almost felt honored to be in his presence. He was just like that, his presence massive and powerful, yet he carried it so lightly with so much grace. Always so composed and humble in the face of the ever-present media, always knew what to say, part-philosopher, part-poet. Nathan wished he could learn how he does it. He knew he was nowhere near Yuzuru’s mental strength. _Maybe that confidence was why Yuzu was the one to confess his feelings first. Good times,_ he pondered. As he finally drifted off, the only image on his mind was his boyfriend’s face all flushed right after he had spilled everything to Nathan, smiling bashfully.
* * *
They were in California and Nathan was eagerly dragging Yuzuru to the beach by his hand. It was the middle of summer, so hot that even the thought of going outside had made them sweat, but they did it anyway, because Nathan had been aching to show his boyfriend around the neighbourhood he’d called home for so long. In a plain t-shirt and even plainer swimming shorts Yuzu looked surprisingly ordinary. With his superstar status left behind, he was just Yuzu, Nathan’s gorgeous boyfriend visiting for a couple of days. They were going straight to the ocean through a street completely devoid of people. It was like the city decided to let them have this moment just for themselves.
The view of the beach and the coast was just perfect. The silhouettes of the palm trees stood out against the spotless sky. The ocean blue of California was darker than Yuzuru expected, but still very bright. And they had all of this to enjoy, the two of them and no one else.
They slathered each other in sunscreen before Nathan started itching to just get into the water.
“Nathan?”
“Yeah?”
“You... you know I can’t really swim, right?”
“Oh... right.”
Nathan had definitely forgotten about that and now felt pretty stupid for suggesting they go swim in the ocean. He didn’t know what to say. Before he could think of anything, Yuzuru looked back at him, smiling softly.
“But... I’d give the water a try, if you keep me safe.”
“I’ll hold your hand, okay?”
“Okay,” Yuzuru agreed and let Nathan pull him up to run hand in hand towards the waves. They were not even remotely intimidating, but they were just big enough to gently rock them as they walked deeper. When the water reached their chests, Nathan felt the grip on his hand tighten.
“Yuzu? What’s wrong?”
“I’m scared. Too deep.”
“Oh, wanna go back out?”
Yuzuru had to think about his answer for a bit before shaking his head.
“Not yet. Water is cold and nice.”
“Aight then.”
Nathan let go of Yuzuru’s hand only to wrap his arm low around his hips and pull him closer. Yuzuru gasped softly, but returned the favour, his hand settling on Nathan’s waist.
“Is this okay?” Nathan asked as he rubbed little circles into Yuzuru’s hip with his thumb. Yuzuru smiled and nodded.
“Hey Yuzu, do you think I can carry you on my back?” Nathan asked, presenting a challenge, mainly to himself.
“What?”
Nathan repeated the question a little slower with careful pronunciation. “Do you think I can carry you on my back?”
“Yeah, you’re strong, why?”
“Hop on to find out.” He looked at him with a growing smirk on his face.
“Please don’t drop me.”
“I won’t, don’t worry, Just put your arms here,” Nathan turned around and guided Yuzuru’s arms to loosely drape over his shoulders and hold on, “and your leg here,” he reached behind to gently hoist Yuzuru’s right leg up.
“Now all you have to do is jump. I’ll count to three, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“One, two, three!“
And just like that, Yuzuru was safely on Nathan’s back. No fall, no botched take-off or accidental kick.
“Okay, now tell me why,” Yuzuru demanded.
Nathan laughed, “wow, someone’s eager. Um, I just thought if you were a little higher maybe the water wouldn’t be that scary for you and, uh, I probably can’t carry you in my arms and to get you on my shoulders you’d have to go underwater and I didn’t think you’d do that, umm yeah...”
Yuzuru perched his chin on Nathan’s head, sinking into the unruly curls. “Thank you,” he said softly. Nathan had been right, he was calmer. The position actually raised him only a little bit, but the fact that his head was on top on Nathan’s, when before they were almost at the same height, helped significantly. His head lightly swayed from side to side as Nathan walked forward. |
5d79ef78400b445aa17f15cbb365406e | ['81c33e1ec21c48b8a3aecaab294b000e'] | _How am I holding up? A murderer broke into my room mere nights ago and read a collection of my most intimate thoughts. A man I thought I could trust assaulted me, violated me, hurt me. I haven’t slept for more than forty-five minutes straight in… well, going on three days now. Your best friend is missing, possibly dead, and I’m sure that it’s entirely my fault. I’ve been snapping hair-bands against my wrist again; I thought that part of my life was long over. I think I might be forgetting how to breathe. You are the only person I’ve felt comfortable with since I first left London. Longer, even. I want you. I need you._
Stella stands, takes a few steps closer to Reed, her heart speeding its fevered pace. “How am I holding up?” she repeats, her voice a near-whisper. She is right in front of Reed now; their noses are practically touching. “I’m here.”
She kisses Reed chastely on the cheek, pulls away, and waits to see how Reed will respond. Her eyes are closed. Her breathing is fast. “Was that okay?” Stella murmurs, watching the other woman’s eyelashes flutter and her chest rise and fall. Reed nods, breathes a hurried “oh, yes,” and that’s all the confirmation Stella needs.
Stella kisses Reed’s temple, her cheekbone, her jaw, her neck that smells of jasmine soap and cinnamon. It is hardly anything yet _sexually_ , but it is so much exactly what Stella had been craving--this undemanding, delicate, tender intimacy--that she half-moans at the sweet relief of it all. Reed’s hands are in her hair--not pulling, just gently exploring, the way two girls might play with each other’s hair at a slumber party. Stella moves her mouth back up to find Reed’s, sliding her tongue inside of it; Reed bites on Stella’s lower lip, and Stella almost grins because Reed Smith is full of surprises today, and _oh_ \--she loves it.
They move together, a fluid tangle of eager limbs, to collapse on Stella’s cot. Their hips are pressed tightly together, their thighs fitted like puzzle pieces; they are flushed and panting, heady with their shared desire. The door to her office is standing mostly open, Stella dimly realizes, but that only makes everything more thrilling. She’s on top but she doesn’t want to be, not now; she wants to let someone else be in charge for once, let someone else be the strong one, take the lead, make the decisions. There’s very few people she’d ever entrust with that role, but she unequivocally trusts Reed Smith with it. Stella changes positions and Reed doesn’t pause, doesn’t blink, slips smoothly into the next wave of touches and kisses without so much as acknowledging the shift.
They're heating up for nothing short of extraordinary when Reed grips Stella's upper arms--not aggressive, just wanting to feel more of her, just trying to gain purchase--but her hands fall right where there are still painful bruises, and Stella flinches and pulls away. She feels awful as soon as she does it, because Reed looks so anxious and embarrassed, and before the dull echo of an ache has fully faded she’s breathlessly reassuring her: "Reed, it isn't you."
"It's not?"
Stella shakes her head. "I'm just a bit...tender there, is all." She doesn’t offer an explanation, because of course she doesn’t, but Reed still needs one. Because of course she does, because she’s Reed.
"Are you hurt? What happened?" Her expression works its way from worried to horrified as every terrible possibility surfaces: "Was it Spector? Did he do something to you?"
"No, no," Stella says. "No, he stayed quite hidden the whole time, just as I said before. This is nothing to do with him."
Reed is looking at Stella, and now her eyes full of disquiet and residual wanting. “I promise,” Stella finishes, but Reed appears unconvinced. "Can I see?" she asks tentatively. "Can I at least see where it is you're injured?"
Stella hesitates, but then she walks over to the door and quietly pushes it closed. She'd laugh at the irony of it--caught mid-sexual encounter in her office, who gives a shit; but seeing her _injured?_ never--if it weren't all so wretched. She slowly pulls off her blouse, revealing tracks of yellowing, finger-shaped bruises on her arms, with larger matching bruises on her back and shoulder blades. Reed gasps. "How… how--Stella, who did this to you?" she asks as the inspects the marks carefully, gently.
Stella waits a beat before she answers, briefly contemplates protecting him, and is immediately shouted down by her better feminist self: "Burns."
Reed exhales a low breath. "That _fucking fuck_ ," she hisses.
Stella laughs humorlessly. "An accurate assessment, Dr. Smith."
"When?" Reed demands, and she isn’t just angry, she’s _livid_.
"The same night as when Spector broke in. It happened while he was in the closet, according to the CCTV. I suspect he heard most of the...altercation."
"Jesus Christ."
"Yes." Stella is trying to read her, but unaccustomed as she is to seeing Reed this worked up, can’t quite discern her next move.
"What the hell happened?" Reed asks, and she still sounds absolutely furious, though Stella knows that none of it is directed at her. | 4cd409724c014780a8c1e55b029ec539 | ['81c33e1ec21c48b8a3aecaab294b000e'] | It’s just after ten, their table is covered in empty glasses, and Stella is _drunk_. Not tipsy, not giggly, not just a little woozy, but utterly plastered; teetering on that last threshold before being entirely functionally immobile. Her face is flushed and her eyes are bright; her hair is messy, her limbs are loose. Her speech isn’t quite slurred, but there’s something freer, more unguarded, about how she’s talking. She says how she's feeling instead of just what she's observing. She laughs at everything Reed says, even the things Reed doesn't intend to be funny. She smiles instead of smirking, and the sleeves of her favorite white silk blouse are rolled partway up her (unsurprisingly toned) arms in a way she'd ordinarily find abhorrently casual. She makes nearly everything that anyone says into an innuendo and then bursts into giggles at her own wit.
It is quite probably the most magnificent and adorable thing that Reed Smith has ever had the privilege of witnessing.
Reed, too, is decently sloshed, but still just sober enough to notice her friend's ( _colleague's? partner's? girlfriend's? fuck buddy's?_ ) unusual behavior. Not that she plans to say anything; she's the last one who'd ever risk saying something that might bring Stella back to Earth. Especially since right now, if you can believe it, she's watching her Stella take the mic again for her third song of the night. _THIRD_. In the couple of hours they'd been at the karaoke bar, Reed had only done one on her own (it was “Dancing Queen” because as much as Stella teases her about it, she loves ABBA with her whole heart), but Stella's first performance--a campy rendition of "Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend" two and a half Old Fashioneds ago--was such a hit that she lined up a sizeable queue of potential songs. A bit later she'd taken to the stage again for “I Will Survive”, which she had dragged Reed into dueting on mid-verse, and now the speakers are playing the opening to something Reed doesn't yet recognize. It’s slower, a little melancholy; it’s not so much a power ballad as it is, well, a ballad. She still seems playful, but there’s something new in her expression now; an element of little-girl-lost.
“ _There are worse things I could do_ ,” Stella sings, her voice quieter, less showy than it’s been for the other numbers, “ _than get with a boy, or two_.”
Reed recognizes it now: it’s Rizzo’s big number from _Grease_. She swallows. Her throat swells in a sudden rush of affection-- _love_ , she realizes. Grease has never been one of her favorite musicals nor has she ever had a particular affinity for this song, but those lyrics coming out of Stella’s mouth--honest and aching, and so very Stella--suddenly Reed feels as though she might cry.
“ _I don’t steal, and I don’t lie_ ,” Stella’s voice is on the verge of breaking and a rush of protective instinct courses through Reed, “ _but I can feel, and I can cry. A fact I’ll bet you never knew._ ” She takes a slightly shuddery breath as she gets ready for the last lines. “ _But to cry in front of you… that’s the worst thing I could do._ ” If Reed wasn’t crying before, she is now. She needs to hold Stella. Immediately.
The audience explodes (when is karaoke _ever_ this excellent and heartfelt?) and though Reed knows that there’s a line of people ahead of her, she rushes up to the stage. She doesn’t make it to Stella quite in time to pull her into her arms and is momentarily crestfallen, but then she has an idea. She pushes past groups of people, sidles up to the DJ, and whispers something in her ear. She sighs and grumbles a little, but waves Reed on stage anyway. The audience and waiting line of patrons are only a little bit disgruntled; they’re getting a kick out of the pair of ordinarily buttoned-up professional women, totally drunk and not without talent, belting out song after song.
Stella has returned to their table and is looking curiously up at Reed standing in the spotlight. Reed’s heart is racing because she’s about to do something terribly impulsive, but she picks up the microphone anyway and smiles at Stella and says, “Stella Gibson--this one’s for you.”
Stella blushes, and Reed suspects that, in this case, it’s not entirely alcohol-related. The song kicks on and Reed waits nervously through the jazzy intro, searching desperately for the sort of courage one keeps tucked away in secret places for occasions such as this one. “It had to be you,” she begins, and now Stella is absolutely beaming. “ _It had to be you. I wandered around and finally found the somebody who could make me be true; could make me be blue. Or even be glad, just to be sad, thinking of you._ ”
Reed knows she isn’t the greatest singer but, God, she loves doing it, and in this moment flat notes or stumbled words don’t matter, really. She’s singing a promise, a reassurance, their own private lullaby. The bar might as well be empty. Reed only has eyes for Stella; Stella only has eyes for Reed. It’s like they’re they’re reliving their moony teenage years, and Reed is making up choreography, she’s doing various dramatic faces to match the lyrics, she’s laughing her way through every word--anything to keep Stella smiling the way she is.
“ _For nobody else gave me a thrill,_ ” Reed belts, “ _with all your faults, I love you still! Baby, it had to be you, wonderful you, had to be you_!” |
9284513268f84121a7bb6ee0b2360e70 | ['81cfefaa2a0d4b198c1dcc79fccd4131'] |
Movie Nights
“You’re _such_ a bully!” You playfully shout, shoving Duncan with your foot as you two lounge on his couch, stuffing yourselves with the Chinese food he had ordered for you both. Duncan had been teasing you for your attire, which consisted of a pair of black sweat pants, a long-sleeve tee shirt from some charity event you had both attended a couple years back, and pink fuzzy socks. You were definitely dressed down compared to his dark grey sweater and black pants. You didn’t care too much, though. You were comfortable around him.
You and Duncan had been friends for years. The two of you met when you were both working in the same office, before your careers took off. He was the constant in your lonely life, and you were the joy in his. You rarely grew tired of each other’s presence.
“Get these nasty feet away from me, Y/N.” He rolled his eyes, pushing your foot away from his thigh. You pulled your feet back, re-positioning yourself to siting with your legs crossed under you. You and Duncan had weekly movie nights, where you’d stay in, order take out and choose a movie to watch as a way to unwind from the week. You were one of the only people he felt comfortable enough to let his guard down around.
“Can we watch the movie now? By the way, my feet aren’t nasty.” The TV was currently on a press conference with the president, something you did _not_ feel like listening to after a long day. You were ready to unwind and watch the cheesy romance you had hidden in your purse.
“Okay,” He sighed, playfully, sitting back against the couch and propping his feet on the coffee table in front of him. “What movie are we watching tonight?” He asked, glancing his light blue eyes in your direction. That had always been your favorite feature on him, his eyes. Then again, it was everyone’s.
“So, I brought ‘Me Before You’.” You state, leaning over to grab the movie from your purse that was leaning against the couch on the floor. “Now, before you go _judging_ , just remember that it’s my turn to pick the movie, and it has great reviews! Just read the back!” He grabs the case from you, acknowledging the front and then flipping to read the back.
“Absolutely not!” He announces, flinging the case back to your lap. You furrow your brows and cross your arms.
“Why not? You picked the movie last week!” You pouted, giving him your best doe-eyed stare with your lower lip poking out, completing your puppy dog pout.
“Y/N, I don’t want to watch some sad romance movie that’s going to get you all emotional. Besides, my movie was good. And this…” he glanced at your full-on pout, caving in as you lace your fingers together as if you were praying. He sighed, letting his head fall to the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling. “Fine, but I swear, one tear and you’re out of here.” You smiled, rushing to put the movie on before he changed his mind. No matter how much he argued, there was no way Duncan could say ‘no’ to you. He smiled at your excitement and got comfortable on the couch.
Throughout the overly dramatic movie, Duncan couldn’t help but steal glances in your direction, not able to keep his focus on it. Mid-way through, you stretched your legs out on the couch, leaning back against your stack of pillows. He grabbed your feet, placing them in his lap so that you could fully stretch.
“ _Oh_ , I thought my feet were nasty?” You giggled, wiggling your feet in his lap. He gripped your socks, stopping your movement. “Eh.” He replied, turning his attention back to the TV. He glided his hands up and down the length of your feet, lightly massaging them. You scrunched your nose at him with a smile, returning your attention back to the movie. Duncan could be sweet when he wanted to, that’s what made these nights so special. Once upon a time, you had thought about what it would be like if you were more than friends, but you didn’t allow yourself to think of that much, not wanting to risk what you have. You always got to see the real Duncan away from his work and the public, and you wished more people could see this side of him, though you weren’t too keen on sharing.
By the time the movie was over, your sleeve on your shirt was wet from your tears. You couldn’t help yourself, sad movies get to you. As the credits start rolling, Duncan turns his head slowly to yours, smirking.
“Are you _crying_ , Y/N?” He leans closer, inspecting your sleeve. You shake your head, bringing your knees to your chest and burying your face in your hands. “I thought I told you, one tear and you’re out?” He teased, pulling at your arms to get a look at your face.
You pull yourself together, straightening your back and sitting up straight. You sit tall, staring straight into his eyes. “Yes, but I believe I produced _multiple_ tears. You didn’t say anything about that, did ya?” You boop his nose, proud of your little rebuttal.
“Oh, you little… A loophole, _really?_ ” He grinned, placing his feet on the floor and standing up to stretch his arms over his head, his tummy peeking out from under his shirt. | c14285f381b34aae9d032a5ea23331ab | ['81cfefaa2a0d4b198c1dcc79fccd4131'] | “I wish we could just stay out here forever.” He admitted, mumbling it more to himself than to you. You nodded, turning your head to face him. You noticed his eyes were still as beautiful blue as always, even in the dark. You couldn’t help but notice how close his face was to yours now. Your breath became stuck in the back of your throat.
Jim pressed his forehead to yours, poking his tongue out slightly at you. He placed his hand on your cheek and rubbed his thumb against it. The pink blush on your cheeks now burning red. You inhaled slightly, closing your eyes as the pull between the two of you caused him to lean in slowly. Just as his lips were about to press into yours, you were interrupted by a loud song playing from his phone.
“ _Wendy run away with me_
_I know I sound crazy_
_Don’t you see—“_
“Shit!” The two of you pulled back in a hurry as Jim was fumbling to answer his phone. You could hear his mom yelling through the speaker. You sat there awkwardly looking at the sand on the ground, unsure what would have happened if you weren't interrupted. The thought sent a shiver down your spine and your stomach felt light from either the almost kiss or the alcohol, you weren’t sure. You pretended to not be able to hear his mother through the phone, even though your senses were heightened and the only sounds were his phone and the waves crashing against the shore.
“Yeah mom, I'm fine. We had to work late… No, I'm just with Y/N… _No,_ it isn't like that… _I'm not going to be getting anyone pregnant…_ ” You cocked your head to face him again, shooting him a playful surprised expression, crossing your hand over your chest in fake shock. A smile replaced his annoyed expression when he noticed you.
“... Okay, I'll be home in a few…” He threw his phone on the blanket after ending his call and sighed. The light atmosphere that surrounded him now expressed his frustration.
“So we're not getting pregnant tonight?” Your attempt to lighten the mood was lost on him.
“I should probably head home… Thanks for everything you’ve done for me tonight, Y/N. You make this place a lot less shitty.” He placed his hand on top of yours, giving it a light squeeze before standing up to leave.
“You deserve it, Jim.” You offer him a warm smile as he offers you his hand to help you off the ground.
~~~~~~~
Two weeks have passed since you and Jim’s almost kiss. Things were in no way weird between the two of you, but they weren’t the same either. You were still hanging out after work, but the air felt different.
It was another busy Friday night, and Jim seemed more stressed than normal. In fact, ever since that night, he’s been more stressed. You suspected he was having trouble at home with his mom.
“Jim?” You were both laying on your blanket in the sand; it was well after midnight. There was a bit of distance between the two of you, but he had his hand on top of yours, needing to feel you.
“Mmm?” He hummed, almost asleep.
“Where would you go?” You turn to your side to face him.
“Hmm?” He hums again, a smile curling at his lips.
“Where would you go? If you could leave PV?” You scoot closer to him, tickling at his chest to wake him up.
“Hawaii.” He breathed, turning on his side to face you as well. He smiled sweetly and let his eyelids fall shut.
“ _Someone’s sleepy_.” You tease, giving him a playful boop on the tip of his nose. He returned the gesture by poking his tongue out like he’s done so many times before. The way he looked right now, so peaceful and happy, made your heart flutter in your chest. But, like all nights with Jim, the sweet moment would soon have to come to an end.
“Come on, I think it’s time we go home.” You sat up and tugged on his arm to pull him up as well.
“I’m not ready yet, just a little longer…” He whined, pulling at your arm to bring you back down beside him. He was being clingy tonight; he must have had a bad day.
“It’s so late, come on. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” He huffed like a child that's been denied an extra scoop of ice cream. You sat up, pulling at his arm again.
“Fine.” He slowly made his way up, rubbing his eyes. You walked in silence to your vehicles, stopping before parting ways.
“Goodnight, Y/N.” He said through his yawn.
“Goodnight, _sleepy boy_.” You leaned into him for a quick hug before leaving. In his sleepy state, he held you tight for a few moments longer, not eager to let go.
~~~~~
The next night at work, Jim didn't show up. A worried knot took up residence in your stomach, however you tried to just focus on your customers. Jim probably just needed a break for the night.
After work ended, you headed home. It was strange, actually being in your bed before 12 AM, but you were in no way complaining. It was _nice_.
What felt like only minutes after you drifted to sleep, you were startled awake by a knocking sound against your window. You sat up and looked around your room for the nearest heavy object to protect yourself with. The knocking kept on, and you crept over to the window, armed with a book. You gathered the courage to peek through the blinds only to be greeted by your favorite set of blue eyes. |
5f47cb64f3c34d58a7d352d420b344f3 | ['81e0795187dc4027980dd5090b8b09e6'] | “Nothing really in particular,” Jacob said with a shrug. “We’re almost there, aren’t we?”
“Yeah, just up here.” Sangyeon helped the two younger boys up the ladder, putting them on the roof. As they looked around, all of them up there now, they spotted a few familiar faces.
“About time you guys showed up!” Haknyeon said, huffing slightly. “Took you long enough.”
“I had to wait for them and then show them this way,” Sangyeon said. “They aren’t familiar with this way. I just gave them a meeting point and instructions. ‘Meet me here and make sure you aren’t followed.’”
“Even so…” Haknyeon said, pouting.
“Changmin? How are you holding up?” Hyunjoon asked, stepping forward.
“He’s not doing so well all the way up here,” Eric said, coming to stand beside Jacob. “I just don’t think he likes how high up we are.”
“It’ll be alright, Min. It won’t be long,” Sangyeon assured, stepping behind Changmin and wrapping his arms around his slender frame. Changmin relaxed slightly, leaning back into Sangyeon’s arms.
“The only reason I’m even here is because Eric _begged_ me to come with him,” Changmin said.
“It’s a once in a lifetime event, Min!” Eric exclaimed. “We may never get the chance to see something like this again.”
“You’re right… but couldn’t we have picked a better spot than all the way up here? I mean yeah, we can see the entrance to the Citadel really well, but… maybe somewhere closer to the ground, somewhere with shade… anywhere else would have been fine, really,” Changmin said, head lowering a little.
“Anywhere except the ground level with all the others,” Hyunjoon pointed out. “I’m sure that none of us would want to be down there at any point during this.”
“That’s pretty much a given at this point,” Changmin said. “Plus, most of the people down there stink.” Changmin wrinkled up his nose, making the boys laugh.
“Changmin, we _all_ stink,” Jacob said, coming to the front of him and hugging him. Sangyeon laughed, and soon enough after, everyone was laughing a little, mainly drowned out by the noise the people below were making.
Suddenly the noise died, almost in an instant. If it weren’t today, Jacob would have been afraid of how quickly it did. But on a day like this, he knew what it meant. Kevin had arrived, and he was ready to be coronated.
The boys separated, sitting close to the edge of the rooftop they sat upon and looked down. The crowd had parted, leaving enough room for the man walking through them. Kevin’s black hair had been changed to now hold a single streak of deep blue, a sign of his lineage. His cloak, draped across his shoulders, was adorned with the image of a wolf running through some trees, another sign of his lineage. Each High family had their own sigil to represent them.
A tugging came at Jacob’s hand. It was Sangyeon, trying to lead him where the others were headed. They were going around, trying to get a better view of Kevin as he gave his speech and got the crown placed upon his head. Jacob stood up, running after them.
They did a big half-circle, running along the edges of the rooftops before lowering themselves down onto a shaded ledge off the side. They all sat, satisfied with how close to the entrance to the Citadel they were, and waited.
Kevin reached the stairs, keeping his slow pace as he ascended the stairs. The boys all leaned forward, trying to hear what Kevin said as he turned around and began to give his speech.
It was nothing _too_ extravagant, if they held the speech to standards made by past rulers. Nothing really stood out or was too different from what the others had always said. They promised to protect the people, make wise decisions, follow in the footsteps of his predecessors and all that, blah blah blah. There was only one thing that stood out in particular.
Kevin was giving the last words of his speech, and then he looked over. Right at Jacob and the others. Jacob and Kevin held eye contact for a little while before Kevin smiled at him and turned forward once again, addressing the crowd. Before Jacob actually looked away, he noticed Kevin wave a few of his personal guard away. They disappeared into the crowd, and Jacob quickly lost sight of them.
Jacob’s ears weren’t picking anything up, save for the muffled cheering of the crowd. He didn’t even register that his own friends were trying to talk to him until his shoulder was being shaken.
“Hey, you okay?” Hyunjoon asked, looking down at him.
“He looked at me,” Jacob said quietly.
“What?” Eric asked. “We can’t hear you!”
“Kevin looked at me!” Jacob said. “He looked at me and held eye contact for a full thirty seconds _at least_ and then he smiled and looked away!”
“He did?” Sangyeon said, surprised.
“Maybe he likes you!” Changmin joked.
“Why would he like me though?” Jacob asked, standing up. He started walking back the way they came, and the others followed. “He doesn’t even know who I am! Or what I do or-”
Jacob rounded a corner, quickly finding himself face to face with two tall men.
“We are required to escort you inside the Citadel,” the taller man said. “Please follow us.”
“On whose orders?” Sangyeon said, stepping forward.
“On the orders of King Kevin himself,” the other said.
“He… wait, why?” Hyunjoon said, stepping in front of Jacob as well, putting an arm around him a little protectively.
“It isn’t our place to question his orders,” the taller one said.
“It really isn’t,” the shorter one agreed. “But he seemed almost hopeful when he asked us to retrieve you. He asked for you specifically.” He finished off by pointing at Jacob.
“We’re not goi-”
“Changmin, it’s alright,” Jacob said, cutting him off. “Let’s go.” | 58bd997c63f34180b2841781fc134474 | ['81e0795187dc4027980dd5090b8b09e6'] | “You’re daydreaming again,” Haknyeon said, smiling and ruffling his hair. “Come on, let's go eat some breakfast. The rest are already down there. Kevin said that at some point today someone named Hyunjae is going to be showing us around because Kevin ended up realising that he needs Sunwoo and Chanhee to help him move something.”
“Oh, okay,” Jacob said, picking out a grey shirt and black pants, black shoes as well. He brushed his hair and looked at Haknyeon, nodding. “Okay, let’s go.”
The walk down the halls of the castle made it feel like they were walking through the streets of the city again. Only the city had been renovated to the max and funded by the king personally. It was… very different yet it felt so familiar at the same time.
“I’m never going to get used to this,” Jacob murmured, looking over at Haknyeon.
“Not gonna get used to what?” Haknyeon asked.
“This,” Jacob flung his arms out, gesturing to their surroundings. “We… this is our new home. This is where we’ll be living from now on. It’s so expensive looking that I’m afraid to touch anything. I was even afraid to get dressed this morning. I mean, look at these clothes!”
“I knooooow. They feel like the silk stuff that Sangyeon stole for us the one time,” Haknyeon said, snickering a little.
“He didn’t _ steal _ them, per se,” Jacob said as they entered the dining hall. “He just… borrowed it. For an extended period of time.”
“That sure is an extremely extended period of time, then,” Haknyeon said.
“Oh, hey, before we sit down…” Jacob said, stopping them before they reached the end of the table, “you seemed really quiet the first time Kevin confronted us. Remember, the day of the coronation?”
“Oh! Yeeeahhh…” Haknyeon chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “I just didn’t want to make myself look really dumb in front of him.”
“I get that,” Jacob said, continuing to walk.
“Yeah, _ well _ ,” Haknyeon said, taking one of the seats left for them, “you also seem to like him.”
Jacob blushed, taking the seat on the end next to Hyunjoon. “I do _ not! _ ”
“Well, it sure seems like it,” Haknyeon replied, starting to eat what was in front of him (which happened to be eggs, bacon, and fruit). “And besides. I think he likes you too. Why else would he leave such a giant vase of flowers for you?”
“He…” Jacob began to rack his mind, wanting to find any, _ any _ reason why Kevin would have given him those flowers… but he couldn’t. His mind suddenly became blank.
“See? I’m right,” Haknyeon said.
“What’s he right about?” Hyunjoon asked, looking at him, now tuning into the conversation.
Sangyeon was to the side of Haknyeon. “What? Haknyeon is right about something?”
Jacob huffed, frustrated, and put his head down.
“Don’t worry, hyung,” Eric said, leaning forward so he could see past Hyunjoon, “It’ll be alright. Everyone is right at some point in their life.”
“That’s not just it!” Jacob said, quickly widening his eyes at how loud his voice was. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.”
“It’s okay,” Eric said, leaning back and finishing the last of what was on his plate.
“When is uh… Hyunjae? Getting here to help show us around…” Changmin asked quietly, playing with his sleeves.
“He’ll be here soon, I think,” Sangyeon said, resting his hand on Changmin’s forearm.
“Does anyone here know what he’s like?” Haknyeon asked. “I only know his name and that he’s supposed to be showing us around.”
“He’s apparently the same age as all of us,” Eric said.
“Kevin talked to you?” Sangyeon said, looking across the table at him with a confused look.
“No, but… I found a book. Under my bed. It had a bunch of names of people that worked around here and things. I think there was a map? Or a floorplan of some sorts in the back but it was hard to understand. Maybe after he shows us around it’ll be more clear but I’ll show it to you when we get back to our room later tonight,” Eric said.
“Of course he found a book. The kid will read anything,” Haknyeon chuckled.
“Don’t make fun of me because I’m smart,” Eric said, tossing a piece of egg at Haknyeon, which quickly got bat away.
“Don’t make a mess!” Changmin whisper-yelled, looking frantically back and forth between them. It made the both of them stop immediately, knowing how specific and right everything had to be while he was around. If there was even a slight speck of dust too close to him sometimes, depending on his mood, he would freak out. Some days can be worse than others, though.
“Sorry, Minnie,” Eric said, quickly wiping down near his and Changmin’s plate.
“It’s okay… just make sure I’m not around if you do… it makes me anxious,” Changmin said, cleaning his area of the table after Eric sat back down.
Sangyeon patted his shoulder. “We’re-”
He was cut off by the large doors behind Kevin’s chair at the table opening, revealing a boy that looked not that much older than the boys sitting at the table.
He smiled as he stood behind Kevin’s chair, eyeing down the cleaned plates. “You guys liked breakfast, I take it?”
“It was the first proper breakfast we’ve had in years,” Hyunjoon said. “Of course we did. We’re grateful to have had the chance to even eat anything honestly.”
“I’m glad you have that chance now,” he said.
“What’s your name?” Jacob asked, putting down his glass of water.
“Oh! My bad. My name is Hyunjae! I’ll be showing you around today,” he said with a smile.
“Is this place as big inside as it looks outside?” Eric asked.
“In some places, yes, you could say that,” Hyunjae said. “Are you guys ready?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~ |
eff9462930174d2a91f029c9b717758f | ['81e2e07179764ea3865f8d73d5108157'] |
Our Own Little Patch Of Hell Baby
**Author's Note:**
> I don't even...I'm not going to even try to defend myself. I don't know what this is, but it is so yeah. Hey Guys!
Castiel stood in Dean’s empty bedroom. It smelt wrong, felt wrong, looked wrong. Everything in this room screamed _I am a demon, fear me now._ Castiel just stood there, frozen in time like he had been for so long before Dean. He just looked around with dead blue eyes, before sitting with legs crossed and arms stiffly by his sides. It was a peaceful position, if Crowley had taught Dean anything about angels Dean would at least know Castiel meant no harm. He wasn’t sure whether that would affect Dean too much.
An angel, Dinial, had come in search for Castiel and without remorse or reason Dean had stabbed her. When he cleaned off his blade he smiled a razor blade like smile, before turning back to cleaning his blade. Castiel had simply sat there. He should feel enraged, he should want to smite Dean, he should be so wrathful but he felt numb. He didn’t care anymore; he just wanted to give up.
So when even instinct told him to flee, put as much distance between him and the knight of Hell he stayed with Dean. Sam wasn’t exactly happy with Dean either, but both knew he would never hurt Dean so he stayed too. He got to train Dean’s hell hounds, a new defence system for the bunker, and seemed quite happy enough with that. Dean swore Sam was feeding them treats, he found crumbs lying about. Sam just grinned boyishly at him, “I have no idea what you’re talking about Dean.” He lied easily as he walked off, an invisible hound following him. Castiel generally cooked and cleaned, since somebody in the bunker had too. If the two Winchester’s had their way they would _still_ be living off of fast food and would die at the age of fifty. Castiel liked to cook a variety anyway, a mix of salads and meat. Dean grumbled about the salad but a stern look from Castiel that seemed to send the message of ‘I am an angel, I will smite you, you assbutt, eat my fucking salad.’ It was the best salad the demon had ever eaten.
Sometimes Dean came home in blood, laughing wickedly, still high on the blood lust. Castiel was there for him, he would clean the blood off, he would take Dean’s mean words and wait too cry until later that night. He would accept Dean’s hits, lean into them even. Dean never said sorry the next day but he would eat his fruit and vegetables without complaint, would try to be nice (as nice as a demon could anyway) he would tell Crowley to stay away from Castiel, he would kill any demon or angel who came near _his_ Cas (Castiel wasn’t sure when every creature on Earth that dared to even think of Cas became Dean’s prey, it just happened) and Castiel would await Dean’s next melt down.
It was a good day today; Castiel was in the kitchen cooking. He was cooking pie as a treat for Dean; he had been good for about two weeks. No massacres, only hunting monsters and the truly sinful humans that even Castiel would want to kill (but never would). The demons were being cautious around the knight though, being good meant he was extra touchy. Not one demon dared even think Castiel’s name, let alone come to the bunker to annoy the angel. Castiel wasn’t quite so cautious, either way Dean would come to him to break him even further then he already was. It didn’t matter what he did. He whistled a pop tune tune as he shook his hips to the beat; he believed it was ‘mama I’m in love with a criminal.’ Dean came in, a grin plastered across his face. His eyes flashed black, but Castiel was dutifully ignoring that little fact. Dean, for once, came to the kitchen to inspect Castiel’s work. “Hey there” Dean spoke, calmly enough but Castiel knew well enough that his tone could often be deceiving. “Apple pie, for you” Castiel informed his demonic friend. He tried to push Dean away so he could bend over to pull the pie out of the oven.
Dean took a sharp intake of breath. Beautiful, reliable Castiel, his angel was always there when Dean needed a pick me up. The hunt had gone terribly, so Dean had planned to have a little… _fun_ with his angel. Then he came home to find his beautiful little fallen angel cooking pie for him. Perhaps he had been too harsh on his angel, Castiel definitely behaved. Dean rubbed his hand down Castiel’s back and the bent over man shivered, Dean smirked. Castiel stood up, blowing on the hot pie. Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel, “I’m going to keep you in my arms forever angel, I’m _never_ going to let you go” Dean wasn’t sure whether it was threat or a promise. Castiel seemed to melt in his arms, perhaps it was a promise. “Just me?” he whispered, almost brokenly and Dean flinched. Perhaps he had flaunted his…flirting skills since he became a demon and dropped all of his depression and self-loathing, it was perfectly reasonable for Castiel to be worried. “Just you angel, just you, me, Sammy, Azia and your pies for the rest of forever” Castiel chuckled, Dean loved his pies. Castiel was actually quite a good baker.
Azia was Dean’s favourite Hell Hound, mainly because the undead dog was protective of Cas and Sam. He had ripped an angel in two when said angel dared called Castiel a whore for a demon. Castiel had raised an eyebrow, before turning back to go into the kitchen. He pretended he didn’t care what his so called family thought. Dean had massacred a garrison in retaliation.
That night Dean called Castiel to his room, rather loudly. Castiel had taken a deep breath; Dean was obviously angrily and felt a need to hurt somebody. He pulled his sleeves down hiding the scars that only made Dean angrier, coughed to clear his throat and walked down the hall. He could almost feel Sam’s anxiety, his friend had tried to defend him, begged him to leave, he could handle Dean but Castiel couldn’t, Dean was all he had left anymore anyway. He opened the door almost shyly and stepped in, his head held high. That head would be hung low the following day, shame and self-loathing filling his gut until he got Dean’s approval again. “Hello Dean” he greeted his friend. Green eyes met blue and Castiel was almost thrown back, Dean never showed his green eyes anymore. He liked to remind both humans (Cas was almost human anyway) that he was a cruel soulless guiltless demon who didn’t care who he hurt. Dean was slouched topless in his bed, his back leaning slightly against his bed. He smirked at his friend, “Come; sit with me” Castiel recalled a saying Sam would often mutter when Dean called Castiel during the day, ‘come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly.’ Castiel walked over to Dean with an emotionless mask. Dean pulled him down into his lap, like he was a child who needed a very important talk. Dean rubbed his back, “You know Cas, I still feel” Dean informed his angel. Castiel tilted his head, something he had been doing more rarely, “I remember how I felt about you. I loved you so fucking much Cas, and then you just kept fucking up” Castiel ducked his head. “I just wanted to kiss you, push you to your knees, keep you to myself because you seemed to be falling further and further and I couldn’t pull you back up. You made deals with Crowley, killed Samandriel, turned your back on me so many times” Castiel didn’t answer Dean. “And then I became a demon, I had a guilty pleasure in the pain in your eyes little one, you looked so hurt. You knew even when I became a monster, you wouldn’t leave. Even if I wanted to torture you, kill you, you wouldn’t leave. I see that now, you’re not going to leave are you, pet?” Castiel shook his head. He felt disgusted in himself. Dean must be laughing inside, he was once a being that had struck fear into Dean and here he was on Dean’s lap like some petulant child. Dean raised his hand to rest in Castiel’s hair, turning the angel so his whole body was now facing Dean. He tried to look anywhere but those green eyes, because green meant Dean and this was not Dean. “Look at me” Dean growled, gripping his chin sharply. “I am all you have now Castiel. The only one who gets to touch you, hurt you, heal you. Your death is mine to give, your life is mine to mould and take. You belong to me now Cas” Castiel nodded, because it was true. It didn’t matter how much he wanted to argue about it, he was Dean’s and he always would be. There was no way to cure him, no way to fix him. It was done, this was his life now. “Of course Dean, whatever you want” there was no bitterness to his tone this time, not like there had been when there had been civil war in Heaven. Dean nodded; he pulled Castiel into his arms. The angel froze up, what did Dean want? “Don’t worry angel, you’re going to beg me to touch you for a long time before I actually do” Dean promised with a dark chuckle. Dean pulled Castiel tighter in his arms, rested his head on his shoulder and closed his eyes. Castiel would be his, his alone. He would never let Castiel go and he would kill anyone who got in his way, even Sam if it came to it. Castiel was far too comfortable with the other Winchester… “I love you Dean” Castiel mumbled, trying to bury himself deeper in Dean’s chest. Perhaps Sam _could_ live, for now. He’d see how things went. “I love you too Cas” and Castiel dozed off and the demon stroked his hair, he would _never_ let his fallen angel go. Not even death could take his angel, not even _God_. | 65d94db07c2e46c69b37787b865ca592 | ['81e2e07179764ea3865f8d73d5108157'] | Will you marry me...?
It was just one of those days, where the sky was just right and the sun was in the sky and life was actually kind of alright. Except they were the Winchesters and they didn't do normal. So both Castiel and Dean were walking down the road, arguing about if they ever got married who would get to propose. "I'm a hunter" was Dean's first argument, which Castiel had quickly rolled his eyes at(a trait he learnt from the hunter) and informed Dean that he was a fallen angel who had even been God at one point. "I survived Hell!" Dean argued, "I pulled you out of Hell!" Castiel had yelled back. Soon it was turning into a full out brawl of yellings and insults of "You broke the world!" "You broke it first!" "You kissed a demon!" "You fucked my sister!" "You abondened me in Purgatory!" "You basically said I'm worthless without powers!" "You made me torture!" "You chose two demons over me!" "I still think something was going on between you and Benny!" "AT LEAST HE WAS ALWAYS THERE FOR ME!" Castiel froze then he punched Dean, "I fell for you!" he roared. Soon both men were rolling on the floor throwing punches and hitting each other. Finally, when Castiel had pinned Dean with his angel strength and was grinning at him, grinning at him like when he declared he was to be a hunter, Dean huffed a breath and yielded. "Fine you can propose, but nothing ever went on between me and Benny" Castiel laughed, really laughed. Dean glared, "Out of everything, everything, its that, that fazes you." Dean lifted his face up to kiss Castiel. "Well I wouldn't put it past you to go back into purgatory just to stake your claim" Dean rolled his eyes. Castiel couldn't deny that, not like he had killed a bunch of demons because they happened to know Dean from Hell, or that he had killed a certain succubus who had her eyes on Dean. He was an angel, he didn't get possessive just protective. Castiel lifted his hands to pull his halo off his head, then he plopped it on Dean's head. "Will you marry me?" Dean rolled his eyes, kissed Castiel's cheek. "Sure, just cause" Castiel beamed and carried him in the bunk house. Sam and Crowley looked up, to see Castiel running off with Dean. Dean who was flailing in his arms, "God damn it Cas! I said yes, not that I was the damned woman!" "but you are..." and it started again. Sam buried his head in the book, make-up sex was not something any little brother wanted to hear, not even the ex-King of Hell wanted to hear the noises they made, "They make Lilith look like a saint in bed" he shivered. |
e182cab21dad4219b13ec893fe09c35b | ['81e6b4d8f2f14ba684f39d4ac4f35c35'] | He was trying to preoccupy himself with deciding what oden ingredients he wanted (they didn’t seem to stock up on anything else, apparently) and he heard a wet sound. And looked-- Ah, mistake. It only served to make him flush harder and his pants felt tighter with every passing second he was in this store. Why was he here again…
“Mmm, what would you like?” The man didn’t even bother pulling up his pants and shuffled over to him, leaning over the counter. “Jyushimatsu, stay there alright, I’ll be back soon~” He noticed Karamatsu’s clearly flustered face and grinned. “Or if it’s another kind of hunger you need satiated, I wouldn’t mind… You think he’s cute, right?” He gestured at the man staring at them, still bent over the counter. “Cos I do.”
“Ah…” Karamatsu looked down at the oden. Which was also another mistake, because he was looking at the man’s uncovered erection. He immediately looked back up, to see the other man grinning at him.
“Look man, I know you’re suuuuper interested in this. A normal guy would have left by now, so,” The man winked at him. “Join us for a bit. Oh, and don’t tell our manager.” He turned to the man named Jyushimatsu. “Jyushimatsu, I changed my mind, let’s go to the back~ Bring the condoms along, yeah?”
“Alright~” Jyushimatsu stood up and grabbed a box of condoms and lube from the counter before smiling at Karamatsu. “I’m Jyushimatsu! He’s Osomatsu, we’ll have lots of fun, okay!!”
“N-nice to meet you too…” Karamatsu’s voice trailed off, but he followed them behind the counter to the staff resting area. His legs seemed to have a mind of their own today, he mused, but there was something almost charismatic about Osomatsu when he spoke to Karamatsu. Maybe this would turn out to be some strange and extremely realistic wet dream he was having.
They had made a space for him on the sofa, and he was about to sit there when Osomatsu gestured at his coat and pants.
“Get those off, aren’t you hot?”
He paused, then nodded, taking his coat off and tossing his pants aside. He could feel both their eyes staring at him, examining him. Not that he minded, finally, people were noticing his body which he put effort into maintaining! Osomatsu let out a low whistle before his gaze dropped and he laughed.
“You’re a terrible person, you’re hard already? From watching us?” Osomatsu licked his lips, looking at him. “You’re a big boy though, come over here. What’s your name?”
“Karamatsu,” He said as he approached the sofa and felt their arms dragging him down. He was facing Osomatsu while Jyushimatsu’s hands explored his body.
“Karamatsu huh, you’re pretty cute. Got a girlfriend? Boyfriend?” Osomatsu grinned.
“Not at the mome-- aah!” Karamatsu gasped as a hand wrapped itself around his dick and gripped it tightly. If he could spontaneously combust, he would have done it there and then.
“God, why are you so adorable, not that my little Jyushimatsu isn’t but… you’re a different kind of adorable…” Osomatsu crawled up to him, wrapped his arms around his neck and started kissing him while Jyushimatsu preoccupied himself with stroking Karamatsu and planting kisses on his back.
“Hn…” Karamatsu groaned and bucked into Jyushimatsu’s hand. How did he know how to jerk other people off so well, did they both do it often, were the questions that plagued his mind but it started to get hazy as he continued kissing Osomatsu. He could feel it, could feel himself being undone when suddenly the hand disappeared and he growled a little.
Osomatsu pulled back, staring at him, who realised he growled and his eyes darted elsewhere. Osomatsu grinned, rubbing his nose with a finger.
“Heheh, you’re really into this huh. Let’s do something else… Jyushimatsu, come here, do that thing you did to me the first time…”
“Ah, okay!” Jyushimatsu leapt off the sofa and Osomatsu left, Karamatsu backing away a little while Jyushimatsu crawled onto his lap and looked at Karamatsu. “Don’t worry, I’m good at this! Osomatsu says so!”
“Don’t tell me you’ve never gotten a blowjob before, Karamatsu,” Osomatsu looked at him with amusement. “You look absolutely terrified he’s going to bite your dick off, but that was me on my first time too, heh.”
“I… hnnn,” Karamatsu groaned as a tongue swirled around his erection. Jyushimatsu looked up at him as his head bobbed up and down and he’d never felt more turned on or mesmerized in his life as he kept watching until Jyushimatsu shuddered. Karamatsu broke eye contact and looked up as Osomatsu started entering Jyushimatsu again.
“You thought I was going to let you have all the fun?” He smirked and winked at Karamatsu before pounding into Jyushimatsu, who’d resumed his routine. Karamatsu knew he was close though, all the teasing and catching him off guard was pushing him to the edge. He leaned back on the sofa’s armrest, a hand gripping tightly into Jyushimatsu’s hair and another gripping the sofa tightly. His hips started moving on their own, bucking into the other’s mouth as his eyes shut tight, steadily approaching his climax.
He could hear the other slowly approaching climax as well, the wet sounds of skin slapping on skin getting irregular and faster. He could barely make out Osomatsu’s breathing as everything started becoming noise.
“I’m gonna c-” He couldn’t finish his sentence as he came in Jyushimatsu’s mouth.
“Shit,” He felt Jyushimatsu shudder as Osomatsu hissed, hands gripping tightly onto his hips as he gave one final thrust, shuddered and withdrew. There was something wet on his legs… Ah, Jyushimatsu came on his leg too.
“Mmm, good boy, I’m sorry for… doing that...” He mumbled as he petted Jyushimatsu’s hair. Jyushimatsu looked up at him and smiled.
“It’s okay! I’m used to it! You taste nicer than Osomatsu anyway, hehe!”
“OI!”
Karamatsu’s stomach rumbled again.
“Oh…” He finally remembered the reason why he was here. Osomatsu laughed and threw a packet of wet towels at him, which he and Jyushimatsu started using to wipe themselves down.
“Clean up, I’ll get you food on the house. On one condition…”
“What?”
“You’ll come back and visit us again.”
“Heh.”
**Author's Note:**
> Hihi I hope you enjoyed it! It was inspired by a conversation some friends and I had, and I decided to write this! It's also been super long since I've written and posted anything on this site, ehehe. | 017c393b99da42ebb3e25c6f9289cedf | ['81e6b4d8f2f14ba684f39d4ac4f35c35'] | He shut his eyes tightly, and realised he wasn’t even aiming properly in his flurry to just get some whipped cream on his erection, getting some on Jyushimatsu still under him as he straddled the other. He swore the AVs he watched made it look easy, but at least he didn’t have to clean it up. He moved closer so his dick, currently suffering from the cold whipped cream, was near Jyushimatsu’s mouth, wide open and ready. This better be worth it, he thought to himself as he felt the other’s tongue slowly lick off the cream from him.
Jyushimatsu slowly took him into his mouth, his tongue slowly working at Osomatsu’s erection as he sucked on it. Osomatsu gripped the bedpost behind Jyushimatsu tightly, restraining the urge to thrust into the other’s mouth as the other continued to work on him. He withdrew, and Jyushimatsu looked at him, licking his lips.
“I think we had our fun, let’s move on to the main event, eh?” Osomatsu grinned and reached over for the free lubricant the hotel normally came with. He took out the pack of condoms he had bought with the food (they could probably just eat the leftover strawberries and cream after) and opened one, putting it on.
Pouring the lubricant between Jyushimatsu’s legs as the other squirmed at the liquid, he smiled at the other. “Was that… fun?” He asked, fingers slowly making their way to Jyushimatsu’s entrance and probing the other.
“Mmm! Let’s do it agai-- aahn, n-niisan…” The other’s voice trailed off into a quiet moan as Osomatsu’s fingers started stretching him. Osomatsu hummed as he continued to work on it, his other hand slathering itself in the leftover lube and slowly pumping Jyushimatsu’s unattended-for-too-long dick. This caused the other to start bucking into his hand, and Osomatsu laughed.
“Alright, I think you’re ready,” He aligned himself to Jyushimatsu’s entrance, withdrawing his fingers and pushing himself into the other. Jyushimatsu’s breath hitched and Osomatsu leaned down, kissing him and continuing to thrust into the other. Both of them had been holding back too long, Jyushi more than him. The remnants of whipped cream on Jyushimatsu’s abdomen made for a weird, sticky sensation as Osomatsu’s flabby stomach rubbed against the other’s toned body while he thrusted in and out.
Not that he cared about the mess he was causing, all he wanted to do now was fuck the other deep into the bed. Jyushimatsu’s arms were around him, nails digging deep into his back as his legs wrapped themselves tightly into Osomatsu.
“Mmnnn, niisan…” Jyushimatsu groaned, eyes closed and tongue lolling out as his hips moved in tandem with Osomatus’s, steadily picking up the pace as the both of them approached climax.
“Shit, Jyushimatsu…” Osomatsu growled as he slammed himself into Jyushimatsu, thrusting deeper and harder. “Fuck, fuck…” He groaned as he emptied himself, and felt Jyushimatsu shudder under him, and felt a warm sensation between their stomachs, adding to the mess that used to be whipped cream. He pulled out and rolled off the other, onto the can of whipped cream he tossed.
“Ow! Ugh…” He rolled the can away and removed the condom, tying it up and tossing it into the conveniently placed bin beside the bed. “Shit, we’re a mess,” He said, suddenly realizing how sticky he felt all over.
“But it was fun!” Jyushimatsu was sitting up, grabbing the can of whipped cream and generously spraying it onto the box of strawberries. “Mmmm! Let’s do this again!” He tossed a strawberry into his mouth, happily humming and ignoring how dirty he was.
“Yeah,” Osomatsu murmured, looking at the clock. It was midnight. “Oh Jyushimatsu?”
“Yes, Osomatsu niisan?”
“Happy birthday.”
“Happy birthday to you too!”
**Author's Note:**
> This was totally inspired by that staff preview of Jyushi stuffing cream and strawberries into his underwear. But I swapped it around a little and also added Osomatsu because ichigo with ichigo was too good of a pun to pass.
>
> Early birthday fic for the boys, heheh. |
5fc02340768941108e30092644a12c24 | ['822821afb03d4ec4a99a02be05fe1234'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> So here we are, dear readers, welcome to yet another journey.
>
> * (insert sarcasm) I am creative with my story names
-"Rise and shine!" Steve heard Knock Out's voice, felt a prick of a needle and registered his retreating footsteps.
The atmosphere around them felt somewhat different. There seemed to be no moisture in the air, for which his circuits thanked him but there was a large amount of dust. His vents wheezed as he sharply invented before releasing air from the ventilation systems in one sharp gust.
-"Watch where you're unclogging your filters!" Somebody next to him growled, Steve apologised. Then looked up to the source of injection - an energon drip?
-"Is this some sort of a joke?" Serengeti's drowsy voice rang somewhere in vicinity. So, there were more eradicons around and Serengeti was there too!
Steve reset his optic band and winced at the buildup of pressure in his processor. The place looked like a run-down warehouse of sorts. There were no berths, only mats on the floor on which he and a number of others lay - everyone had an energon drip...
-"You wish." The unnamed vehicon by his side groaned in response, sheltering his optic band from the harsh overhead lighting, and complaining about pain in the processor. Steve's own helm-ache was starting to catch up with him and he rubbed his cranial po rt.
-"Ser?"
-"Keep it down, especially _You_." Serengeti mumbled somewhere to the left, he was usually irritable right after recharge so Steve did not hold it against him.
Despite the helm-ache the eradicon was determined to get up. His vision blurred, gyros trying to re-calibrate. - "Just keep talking Ser! I'll find you!" The post-stasis dizziness announced itself moments later and he collapsed back on the mat, well, at least there was nowhere else to fall into. Hence stubbornly he started to crawl towards the sound of Serengeti's voice.
-"Steve! The Pit you are doing?!" Lucy yelled from across the room.
-"Crawling?"
-"~Quiet~" A feeble groan carried from the far corner of the room.
-"Get back to your berth...uh, mat, before I tie you to it." Lucy switched to an angry whisper. He had adopted a certain air of authority since they last saw him and behaved in a manner which indicated that he had been up for a while already.
-"I gather this is not the Allspark so where are we?" The helm-ache vehicon posed the question Steve had wanted to ask.
-"Cybertron." Lucy stated nonchalantly while he busied himself with taking vital data from eradicons who had not yet regained consciousness.
-"No way. Last I remember we were doing the angry mob thing back on Earth." Serengeti referred to their single-minded protests against being put in stasis by the Autobots. In Steve's humble opinion it had been anythng short of epic.
-"Yes, well, at least the Autobots kept their word about not offlining us while we were in transit." Taking into account the losses they had sustained during the last battle on Earth and how upset Lucy had been about losing Viktor, it was refreshing to see him so uncharacteristically talkative. Steve took it as a good sign.
-"It's nice to hear you Lucy."
-"Wait, Cybertron - the land of metallic rainbows and liquid energon?" The vehicon seemed to have processed the information and seemed to be slurring his words much less now but nobody was sure if he was being sarcastic or not.
-"I would not quite put it that way." Lucy muttered almost to himself. -"But you'll be the judge of that soon enough."
-"When can we leave this place?"
-"Whenever you can stand." Lucy threw over his shoulder as he ventured to readjust Steve's energon drip. "They are onlining us in batches. Wheeljack's busy gauging by how much they should increase the energon production before they online us from stasis. You know, so we do not have a famine or something."
By the time Steve was properly able to maneuver himself in space with energon drip in tow, the room was full with awake and groggy eradicons and Lucy flitted across the room to take care of them. Knock Out came in a couple more times to check on those who had a harder time emerging from the stasis but in general it was a sort of dizzy assembly of eradicons. Some were just sitting on their mats - regaining their bearings, some staggered and some managed maintaining more stable trajectories but all were confused.
Serengeti had issues with his injured leg so he gestured to Steve to come and join him when Lucy came by again.
-"I thought we had fixed it before you went into stasis." Lucy whispered.
-"You had but I wanted a moment of your undivided attention." Lucy made a non-comitant sound but gave no indication of leaving.
-"How long have we been out and what's happening now?"
-"6 months and you will get a task assigned.” Lucy looked around him. -” So far we are just working for the Autobots."
Steve motioned to them to keep quiet as one of the Autobots entered the room, it was a yellow and black one. He looked around a little unsure but then started talking.
-"Fellow cybertronians, please do not be alarmed. You are our fellow mechanisms and we ...uh."
The bot stuttered, apparently the speech was as jarring and unnatural to him as it was to everybody else in the room, Knock Out had cringed while listening. The Autobot cursed under his breath, cleared his intake and then started again. | 8bb171f65dcf46a5a01639e4d8b795d9 | ['822821afb03d4ec4a99a02be05fe1234'] | -”When done properly, the spheres bounce off the bubbles of carbonation in the drink when you pour it. It makes for a pretty moving effect. Go ahead, try it, the spheres should be chewy.”
Jazz sniffed it first and then tried a small amount carefully and his optics lit up in surprize. It was fizzy, yes, the spheres were chewy as well but...
-”Whoa, this thing has a kick.”
-”Like a bull Rhynodon.” Bar now sported a toothy grin, amused by Jazz’s surely scrunched-up face while Blue looked mortified.
-”Ah, sorry, too strong?”
-”Just was not expecting that, don’t worry Blue.” Jazz wiped the coolant from the corners of his optics, his intake still burnt .
-”Actually I was wondering…” Bar started in a matter of fact way, tracing designs over the armrest with a tip of his claw. -”You are not going for New Praxus, are you that keen on the dunes or are you taking another transit route?”
-”Why the interest, If I may ask?” Something about this Bar made Jazz wary.
-”Dune tours do not operate around this time because desert is transitioning into another season. Since dune watching is about the only legal thing mecha come here to do that makes me wonder what brings you here now.”
-”Em.” This was news to Jazz. -”To be honest I did not know such a thing as seasons existed here and I am in fact very much interested in exploring dunes.”
Bar snorted and shook his helm -”Tourists.”
Jazz started feeling uneasy. -”So, how Do you distinguish between sand seasons?” This could potentially scrap his initial plan.
Blue interfered here, trying to dissipate the uncomfortable moment. -”It’s mostly the winds during the night, the they move the dunes. The most dangerous bit is the Sand storms. This early in season it is unusual to get many or ones that last long but it is not unheard of.”
Well that wasn’t good.
-”How bad exactly can sand storms get?”
Bar gave him a _ Look _ . -”Really bad. ”
-”Bar works as part of local Search and Rescue team.” Blue explained.
-”It is more of a search as there usually is not much left to rescue. So a shifting sand season is not a good season to be out unless you are planning to off anyone.” Bar cast a non-judgemental look in Jazz’s direction.
-”Huh? Why would I?” This was quickly spiralling into a conversation that was downright scary.
-”Or be offed, though that is not what one usually plans for.” Bar shrugged and helped himself to some hi-grade. Blue swatted him away but elaborated for Jazz’s sake.
-”Shifting dunes bury evidence and uncover remains of mecha thought long lost. Whenever mecha go missing in New Praxus, it is likely their chassis have been dumped somewhere in the dunes.”
Jazz felt suddenly very uncomfortable about the entire premise of his assignment.
-”I - I think I will be going for tonight. Thank you for…. The bubble drink. I, how much I owe?”
Blue smiled at him - “Oh, it’s on the house and don’t let the stories scare you, just stay clear of the dunes tonight!”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Happy Holidays - keep it together for 2019, we have a bumpy ride ahead!
**Author's Note:**
> Jazz essentially sleeps in a washing machine. |
2c49d9cb64a74929a2ffcb07ed55dfdb | ['822eb235b503489cb0e53066e4fa53b7'] | Heather’s moaning hitched in her throat and became more uneven. She could feel the tingling sensation in her abdomen swell and start to make its way up her spine. Heather gripped the pillow above her head, her moaning becoming louder and more desperate. Freddy quickened his pace, also feeling that he too was close to his breaking point, and ready to burst with cum. Suddenly Heather shuddered under him, screaming out her lover’s name as she reached the climax of her orgasm. A few seconds later, Freddy felt his balls tighten, and he plunged down with all of his weight as he delivered his seed in copious amounts inside of Heather’s aching vagina. Heather felt a warm liquid seep out of her womanhood, and then realized that she herself had ejaculated.
Freddy breathed heavily above Heather, his cock still buried deep inside the woman. He slid down and squished Heather under his weight, but she didn’t seem to mind. Freddy planted small kisses along Heather’s cheek and neck, while Heather quietly moaned in contentment.
“Mmm, that was so good,” she complimented.
“That was just the warm-up act,” Freddy replied wryly. “I have something very special for you.”
Freddy then began to gently rub his penis head along Heather’s vaginal wall, probing around the soft flesh of her wet core. Heather laid there confused as to what Freddy was up to.
“Fred, what are you doing?” Heather asked.
“Looking for your cervix, so I need you to lay still for me.”
Before Heather could protest, she felt a sudden uncomfortable shock within her vagina. Freddy looked down at Heather and leered.
“Looks like I just found it.”
After what Freddy had done to her earlier, Heather wasn’t looking forward to having her cervix being bruised even further. She tried to push the Demon off of her, but Freddy was much too quick and he shoved Heather back down into the bed before she could make any real effort.
“Now, now, behave for me, we don’t want to ruin the mood now do we?” Freddy sneered. “I need you to stay relaxed for me, otherwise I won’t be able to penetrate your womb with my proboscis.”
Heather’s eyes went wide with horror. “You’re going to do what now?!”
Freddy smiled mockingly. “I am a Demon after all, which means that I’m not entirely human when it comes to – anatomy.”
Freddy gently rubbed the head of his penis against Heather’s cervix, feeling for its opening.
“And besides, you do want to experience the best orgasm you will ever have right?”
Heather yelped in discomfort as Freddy extended his proboscis out of the end of his penis and through her cervical entrance. It slid ever deeper, right into her core, where the appendage seemed to have a life of its own as it flicked against the walls of Heather’s uterus. Heather’s eyes rolled back and her mouth fell open as the stinging pain subsided into a phenomenal sensation of pleasure.
“Oh Freddy - oh YES!!” Heather cried out in ecstasy.
Freddy gazed down at Heather, half-drunk himself from his own pleasurable hormones.
“Mmmm, that’s it Nancy, give in to me, I know you want to.”
Freddy began to ever so gently move against Heather’s loins, letting his proboscis do all the work within the woman’s core. The appendage coiled around inside of Heather, tickling her uterine walls, and then brushed against the tips of her Fallopian tubes as Freddy moved against her. Heather’s vagina had started to spasm periodically, which signalled the beginning of a massive climax within her body. Freddy had returned to his crouching position, his green eyes staring hazily down at the woman who had caused him so much grief over the years.
He would never admit to being in love with Heather, but he did have feelings for her, which had drove him crazy as he sat idle within his own personal “hell” for 10 years. But now he was on top of her, fucking her senseless with his Demon dick, and he was loving every second of it. Heather’s moaning deepened with every brush of Freddy’s proboscis inside of her womb. Her vagina kept clamping down onto his penis, making it almost impossible for Freddy to move inside her walls. Heather dug her fingernails into Freddy’s forearms and shoulders as he thrusted a little harder into her. The incredible force that was building up within her abdomen was just about ready to spill over the floodgates.
“Ooohhh, Fre-dd-yy”, mmm-ohh, please, I’m so close!!”
“Keep going!” “Ohh – yes, Ooh – yes!” “Please – keep going!”
Freddy thrusted harder still, his proboscis thrashing around inside of Heather.
“Oh Freddy!”
“Oh Yes!” “Oh Yes!” “Ooohhh Yes!”
“Oh – mm, Oh – mm, OOHH – MMM, OOHH – FREDDY!”
“Oh – Oh – Oh Oh OH OH OHHH!!”
Every muscle in Heather’s body tensed up with an incredible force and then spasmed simultaneously, causing her to shake violently and uncontrollably as the orgasm engulfed her like a tsunami. Her delightful cries echoed off her bedroom walls as she trembled, while Freddy lurched forward and let out an inhuman growl, baring his sharp fangs that now lined his mouth. With the last of his strength, Freddy hammered his cock relentlessly into Heather and released a torrent of concentrated demonic sperm through his proboscis, right into Heather’s quivering core, ready to fertilise any eggs that may have been ovulated during the uterine stimulation.
Freddy slowed his thrusting to gentle movements once again, allowing Heather to come back down from her orgasmic high. A few minutes passed of heavy panting and moaning, before either one spoke.
“Mmm, Freddy, that was amazing,” whispered Heather.
Freddy buckled under sweet exhaustion, and collapsed onto Heather’s sweat-covered body.
“I told you it would be the best orgasm you’ll ever have,” crooned Freddy. | fb5b1220e3cf404983fbb4672c3c4c92 | ['822eb235b503489cb0e53066e4fa53b7'] | “Move it bone bag, or I'll end you where you stand!” snarled New Nightmare Freddy from behind the un-dead skeleton. Lord Fear glanced wearily over his shoulder at the scarred creature, catching the Demon's fiery stare.
“We’ve been walking for hours,” Fear explained hesitantly. “Don’t you think we should stop for the night?”
“You insolent fool!” scolded New Nightmare Freddy, shoving his claws against Lord Fear's spine. “The night is our cover, our chance to attack the enemy when their guard is down."
Freddy's claws had now penetrated fabric, and their tips were pricking sharply into Lord Fear's bony back, causing the skeleton to jump forward.
“Alright, alright!-” Lord Fear shouted. “But we have to get past the Observatory- and the Lightning Knights first.”
Lord Fear pointed a bony finger toward the back-lit building in front of them, but New Nightmare Freddy only smiled wryly in return.
“I bet they’re not home," hissed Freddy. "They'll be with this so-called 'Raptor Queen' who has your precious pet human, just waiting for someone pathetic like you to rescue him."
Staff Head then pivoted around from his perch on top of Lord Fear's walking cane, and glared at New Nightmare Freddy with beady little red eyes.
"You dare insult his Lordship?!" snapped the little green gargoyle frog, flapping his purple wings angrily at the Demon.
Before Lord Fear could stop what was happening, New Nightmare Freddy had lashed out at Staff Head, catching the gargoyle frog off-guard and nicking one of his wings with a razor sharp steel talon. Staff Head screeched in both surprise and pain, and reeled back out of the way of the Demon's reach.
"Next time it'll be your throat, you wretched little toad!" New Nightmare Freddy growled.
Freddy then prodded his steel knives into Lord Fear's back once more, silently ordering the skeleton and his staff to keep marching forward towards Conestoga Hills and the darkening sky ahead.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> The character of Brent Sarge was inspired by an actual boss I had who was exactly like the one in the story. And yes, my boss's nickname around the warehouse was Twinkle-toes. Of course no one dare say it to his face, but it was a funny little inside joke among the floor staff.
>
> He used to wear these fancy black business shoes that tapped loudly when he walked around on the hard concrete floors of the warehouse. One time, a new member of staff told me that he thought it was a woman walking around in high heels, until he looked and saw it was in fact the manager. XD
9. Up In Smoke
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Shit hits the fan big time down at the local corner store, and Original and Remake Freddy make their presence known.
Scar and Serrangah went down to the local corner store just after sunset to pick up something to eat, leaving poor Diego at home with Ruth, who was still in an irate mood. The cool night air was a nice reprieve from the stinking hot day, but the distant rumbles of thunder and streaks of lightning on the horizon were a dire warning to the Dromaeosaurids as they walked down Junction Street.
“How’s your head feeling?” Scar asked Serrangah, giving his friend a sympathetic look.
“It’s frigging killing me!” Serrangah groaned.
His head was still patched up, and the area around the injury had become inflamed.
“I’m going to have to get something for this swelling while we’re down here,” added Serrangah, scratching at his bandages.
“We’ll get some more antiseptic solution too, just in case,” affirmed Scar with a smile.
Serrangah didn’t notice Scar smiling at him and just moaned in pain.
Scar knew they had to hurry. The storm was coming ever closer and he didn’t particularly feel like getting a free shower. But as the Velociraptor sniffed the damp night air again, he picked up an alarming odour, the stench of smoke. Scar and Serrangah came over the crest of Junction Street and spotted a plume of thick black smoke rising from the corner store!
A good portion of the shop was well ablaze when Scar and Serrangah reached the store, the distraught store clerk rushed up to the pair waving his hands furiously.
“I don’t know what the hell happened!” the clerk screamed at the surprised Raptors. “There was this loud explosion, and a fire ball erupted from the back, and there were these two guys in red and green striped sweaters fighting each other with knives on their hands!”
The store clerk collapsed to his knees and sobbed while Scar and Serrangah glanced at one another and shouted in unison,
“FREDDY!”
Sure enough, when the two Raptors ran around to the back of the burning building, they discovered two versions of the infamous horror villain Freddy Krueger wrestling each other on the ground, their claws interlocked as they snarled and bit madly at one another. Through the choking smoke and dancing flames, Scar and Serrangah could make out that one looked like Freddy Krueger from the ‘Freddy vs. Jason’ movie, while the other looked like the ‘2010 Remake’ version.
Scar immediately leapt through the smoke and planted his feet onto the back of Original Freddy, knocking him free of the other character as Serrangah ploughed straight into Remake Freddy’s chest.
Scar pinned Original Freddy to the ground and bit hard into the Dream Demon’s left shoulder, drawing thick tar-like blood as Freddy howled under him and tried to slash at the Velociraptor's legs. Remake Freddy kicked Serrangah off of him, sending the Dromaeosaur flailing across the parking lot. Serrangah quickly recovered, and sized up Remake Freddy again for his next attack.
Scar still had a hold on Original Freddy, but the toxic smoke was becoming debilitating.
“HURRY UP SERRANGAH!” Scar bellowed. “I can’t hold this bastard for much longer!” |
4aa04012719b4405b71239a5d8f9176f | ['8234497937c04301bc3aee605f907252'] | He’s not sure he has the energy for this, but Steve knows the best way to get rid of Tony is sure as hell not to ignore him. And, despite the caustic, abrasive shell, there is more heart in Tony Stark than there ever was in his father. Methods aside, he _is_ in Steve’s apartment when Steve is returning from one of the most demoralizing missions a man has ever taken on.
“Breaking and entering, Tony,” Steve replies, shuffling out of his overcoat and shoes.
Tony approaches through the expansive living space. It seems even bigger than it really is because Steve is tragically behind on amassing personal effects, for reasons he does not care to examine nearly as closely as his SHIELD-assigned psychologist does.
“My building.”
“My apartment.”
“Pah,” Tony snorts. “Champagne?”
“I’m not celebrating,” Steve heads into the kitchen with the hope that Pepper has seen to his fridge being well-stocked after his long absence. To his relief, she has not failed him. He needs to send her a gift, he’s sure, but he has no idea where to even begin.
“What should I get Pepper as a gift?” he poses loudly as he pulls out what he needs for a sandwich or four.
“Pep’s mine,” Tony huffs childishly, sweeping into the room and dropping the glass bottle into the recycling. Steve rolls his eyes. “It depends, Cap. Besides, what I’d get for her is probably not the same as what you would get for her, so you really should be asking a different question. What would you get as a thanks-for-being-awesome present if she was your James?”
Steve’s heart pulls - it always does - but somewhere between the nebulous knowledge that James is closer than ever before (even if still so painfully far away), and Tony and the others’ constant mentions of him, James is not allowed to be a taboo subject with the Avengers or their SHIELD handlers. Though Tony is the only one who consistently refers to him as belonging to Steve, his name falls from the lips of Steve’s acquaintances as often as possible. He thought at first that it would drive him insane, but instead the mass knowledge of his relationship with James makes the man feel more real than he ever had in the past. He’s not just a private thought in Steve’s head. Tony managed to pick up on this first, and he works James into almost all of their conversations.
Many are not strictly family-friendly exchanges. Yet Tony persists long after Steve has given up on rebuking him, which seems to be Stark’s _modus operandi_ in most matters.
“I don’t actually _know_ him, Tony,” Steve reminds him, setting out his slices of bread.
“Fine, but you don’t really know Pep either,” Tony pointed out. “Out of sheer curiosity, what kind of things _would_ you buy for your boyfriend?”
Steve flushed, despite his best attempts to get used to Tony’s blasé attitude towards something that would have gotten them both beaten to death back in Steve’s youth.
Unfortunately, naturally, Tony noticed. “Would James be your boyfriend, Cap? Really? I was just spitballing there but your pink face says otherwise. You know that’s legal now?”
“Yeah, I know,” Steve affirmed, buttering his third slice. Tony seemed to be waiting for something, so he just bit the bullet and added, “I looked it up.”
“So you’re…” Tony made an expansive hand gesture. “Cool with that?”
“Yes, Tony, I’m ‘cool with that’.”
“Huh.” He appeared to have thrown the other man for a loop, which pleased him for all of five seconds before he realised that Tony would now never let this go until his curiosity was satiated. “So you’re gay? Bi? Pan?”
_Have mercy_. “I don’t know, Tony. My soulmate is a man. That’s all I really need to know, isn’t it?”
“That’s very progressive of you, gramps.”
Steve gave him a side-eye. Something about the way Tony said that… “Tony, are you gay?”
Tony sighed dramatically, dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling for a moment. “And back to that. You can’t let me have something nice, can you, Cap?” Steve gave him a confused eyebrow over his eighth buttered slice of wholemeal, at which Tony rolled his eyes. “I’m not gay. Obviously. If anything, I’m bisexual. Well,” He reached to steal one of Steve’s slices while his back was turned, and immediately received a thwack to the back of his hand. He made a loud noise of protest, but grinned. "I might actually be pan – who knows?”
Steve wasn’t entirely sure Tony was still speaking English, so he just turned his attention to the row of nascent sandwiches.
Of course, Tony didn’t exactly require encouragement to continue talking.
“They think that’s why we have this overpopulation problem in America, you know? Other places, sure, that too, but some of them have their own problems. Your parents’ generation and yours and a load before and after you got the idea in their heads that, you know, if the soulmates are man and woman then it means they should get it on, but if they’re the same sex they should just be pals and get on with their hetero lives elsewhere. It’s a bit of a logical pretzel, if you ask most people nowadays.”
Steve’s hands slowed as he took in Tony’s words, eventually stopping with a piece of ham in his grip hovering just over its destination. Tony continued, but Steve was frozen in a moment when it really, truly hit him that there was nothing strange anymore about wanting to marry his soulmate no matter what gender he was. That he wouldn’t have to pretend to love James just as a friend but go marry some lady who had a female soulmate of her own to keep up appearances.
He would be allowed to love James like he wanted to.
If James wanted to.
As soon as he found him. | 45bd7e613ca34636a84a3dda8ad2416d | ['8234497937c04301bc3aee605f907252'] | Stark turned abruptly to look at him, visibly surprised.
“Your lack of faith in them alone would not have produced this situation,” T’Challa finished, searching Stark’s face for clues and reactions.
For a moment, there was no reaction. Stark just stared at him, eyes marginally widened. Then he seemed to shake himself off. “Trust. That’s the problem, isn’t it?”
T’Challa waited for a moment, then indicated for Stark to continue.
Which he did, with a sort of frustrated shrug. “Bruce was right from the get-go—we were a ticking time bomb from the moment Fury put us all on that helicarrier together, not a team,” he said stonily. “Clint didn’t trust us with his family, Bruce didn’t trust us to protect him, Wanda flat-out hated me from the start, Nat—who knows if she’s even capable of trusting anyone?—, I… didn’t trust any of them to make the right decisions, and Steve… I don’t know if Steve ever really trusted any of us with anything. Ever. Barnes, his past, himself.”
Stark took a deep breath. “In the… Zemo said that an empire destroyed from the inside will never be rebuilt. But if we—if we were never a team to begin with. There was nothing to destroy. The Avengers are supposed to fight the battles that no-one else can. That hasn’t changed. But we were also never under any laws: we all operated for our own reasons, with our own agendas, under our own oversight. And… look how that turned out. The law—legitimacy comes from the people’s consent. Our legitimacy as an agency comes from the leaders of the countries whose citizens we are trying to protect—but we have to fight for all humanity, not for a single government. That’s why I thought… I thought they would be happy to work with the U.N. I thought… I assumed. That it would be good enough.
“‘Cause that was where I failed with Ultron,” he continued, looking increasingly more forlorn. “That’s where I—we—can never fail again. I created Ultron to be armor for the whole world, without asking it, and Ultron figured out that given the choice, people might not agree to be protected. That was my… I was terrified of people making the wrong choices, so I never offered them those choices. I almost drove away everyone I cared for, everyone I wanted to protect. I did drive away Pepper, I don’t know how Rhodey can stand to look at me, Steve split and hasn’t… called, contacted me, except—”
He cut himself off, pursing his lips. T’Challa kept his silence.
Stark’s gaze had fallen to the floor, and now he lifted it to look out the window once more. “Most of all, I guess I expected that Steve would fight. The Accords. He won’t do anything if he feels like he hasn’t been given a choice, so I wanted to give him the choice, this time. I thought I was learning, I thought… well, it doesn’t matter. I didn’t think that Steve would ever just turn and run away in a blaze of fire and dead cops. I didn’t think it was possible for him to go that far off the reservation.” He smiled a rueful smile. “I thought that was my job.”
Struck by the—frankly, unexpected—honesty and doubt he was being faced with, T’Challa fell silent for a moment to allow himself time. He needed to decide how best to proceed with this meeting.
It was looking quite possible that Stark desired help as much as he himself did, and with the U.N. and other bodies demanding that the remaining Avengers publicly denounce Rogers and his followers—presumably in an effort to ensure that the entire Initiative wasn’t deemed a violent non-state agency along with them—he and Stark were running out of time to think. They both already knew that the Accords could be amended, tightened, adjusted, and that was perhaps the most obvious next course of action.
Without a better option, T’Challa decided to stay on the same topic, since Stark was being so open.
“I will not provide shelter for Captain Rogers indefinitely,” he said plainly, searching the other man’s face.
Very little emotion filtered through, since Stark had apparently shored up his defenses once more in the moment of respite he’d been given. He quirked a dull grin at T’Challa, turning away from the window. “If you’re asking what I plan to do to help Steve once you kick him back out the door, I think you’re going to be disappointed.”
“You have no intention of helping Rogers,” T’Challa inferred.
Stark stared at him, a sad sort of humor in his eyes. “Steve’s a big boy. He can take care of himself perfectly well, as he made very clear. If he doesn’t want my help, that’s fine by me.”
“No, it is not,” T’Challa noted bluntly.
He earned himself an even larger, sadder smile. “I can’t spend all my time running after people who don’t want my help. What’s the point? There’s plenty of others out there worse off than Captain America.”
T’Challa nodded slowly, as if he were digesting this. But something about that position niggled at his mind, demanding that he ask. “Yet, before you agreed that Captain Rogers and the others could prove useful should we find ourselves in need of them.”
Stark snorted. “Believe me: Rogers made it pretty clear that he’ll be available if something comes up. In the meantime…” He trailed off entirely, whether holding back the end of that thought or uncertain himself of what it should be. “If the world is ending, someone else can call him in.”
“You feel he no longer has a place in the Avengers?” |
9984d777ba644109a8a3101838a83f84 | ['8239c01fa3b9445db3e6014add4786bc'] | “We only want the best for you,” Newt said mildly. “And Hermione is the best. Now, what is this project that you want my advice for?”
~~
“This may seem a bit awkward,” Hermione said to Tina, who had come up to where Hermione was ensconced in an armchair with the spell book. “But I am sincerely sorry about the to-do with Rolf.”
“Yes, he told us about that Unbreakable Vow you made in order to prevent marrying him,” Tina replied, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “It was the kind of thing I might have done once.” She handed Hermione a slice of freshly baked blackberry pie. “No hard feelings, my dear. It all turned out for the best, even though Newt was dreadfully disappointed at first. Luna is a wonderful girl, and she’s exactly what Rolf needs.”
“Do you think Rolf is what Luna needs, though? She doesn’t know anyone here, and even though she’s always been a bit of a loner, she deserves to be cherished.”
“Look at them, Hermione.” Tina pulled her to the end of the stacks in which she had been hiding and pointed out where Luna, telling some kind of fanciful tale, was sitting on Rolf’s lap. Rolf’s frog-like mouth was agape; he was looking at Luna as though she was the most fascinating insect he’d ever seen. “Rolf has always talked a big game to cover up for his insecurities. He’s finally found someone he’s more interested in than himself. And I can guarantee that he will always pay more attention to Luna than that poor girl has ever gotten.”
“They’re an odd couple, though, aren’t they?”
“They’re Rolf and Luna Lovegood Scamander. They were never going to be perfectly normal, thank you very much.”
~~
“It was a lovely evening, wasn’t it, Hermione?”
“Yes, Luna,” she replied, smiling at her old friend’s dear visage. “Tina and Newt are darlings.”
“I’m ever so glad you liked them. I love them very much.”
“They will always look out for you, dear. You’re very lucky.” Then: “Luna, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Professor McGonagall’s bequest.”
“Oh! Yes, what was she kind enough to pass on to me?”
Hermione opened her beaded bag and relinquished the set of Transfiguration tomes and _Quibbler_ documents. Luna quietly perused the materials, her protuberant grey eyes misting.
“Oh, Hermione,” she whispered. “The professor thought of both of us: daddy and me. I love these books. And it will mean so much to daddy to have complete control over his publication again.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, Luna, why did Professor McGonagall have ownership of _The Quibbler?”_
“It wasn’t something we advertised, but daddy was in rather dire financial straits for some time. People weren’t exactly in the mood to buy _The Quibbler_ during the war, even though it was the only news source that wasn’t controlled by the Death Eaters.”
_That is debatable,_ Hermione thought, recalling when Mr. Lovegood was so desperate for his kidnapped daughter that he was willing to turn in Harry Potter to the Snatchers. She wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that Xenophilius Lovegood had descended to the level of curating his content to please Voldemort. She wouldn’t dream of voicing her suspicions to poor Luna, however.
“Professor McGonagall kindly offered to buy the rights to _The Quibbler_ from daddy, which made things easier for us for a while,” Luna was saying. “It was a good arrangement. Daddy got to continue to write and edit. The only stipulation was that the professor had final say in approving each article. She only really interfered a few times. The last one I remember was about a year after the war. Daddy had uncovered information that Professor Snape was really alive and running a covert potions ring based in France, but Professor McGonagall couldn’t bear the thought of ruining Professor Snape’s good name. She was convinced then that he hadn’t survived the snake, of course. She thought Daddy’s article would constitute besmirching the dead.”
“You mean your father believed Severus was alive?”
“Yes, and he had evidence that the professor was not only alive but also running a black market business. Daddy had receipts and everything.”
“Receipts?”
“Yes! You see, the professor was pretending to be selling these expensive, brand-name cauldrons. But each cauldron batch purportedly arrived filled with a class IIIa substance. Something that only someone with the skills of Professor Snape could acquire or brew.”
“That’s … interesting, Luna.”
“I know you don’t believe it, Hermione. I fully believed it until recently, when I realized he couldn’t possibly sell such horrible potions. He is so responsible, you know.”
“How long have you known about this cauldron business, Luna?”
“I knew by the first Ministry ball, but I didn’t like to say anything about it because you weren’t in the right frame of mind,” Luna admitted. “You would have believed it and confronted the professor immediately. But you and he are in a better place now.”
“If anything, Luna, I understand him less than I ever did. Your story fills in many of the gaps in his history.”
“Hermione, you have a questioning mind,” Luna said gently. “I think you should weigh the evidence before you jump to any conclusions about the professor. He never receives the trust he deserves.”
“There is a difference between blind trust and stupidity,” Hermione cried. “I have regarded Severus with suspicion for quite some time now.”
“Oh, Hermione, Professor Snape has such a loving, strong heart!” Luna said. “Perhaps you are too close to him to see it. Don’t ruin everything by confronting him before you’ve had a chance to think things through clearly.”
“You never used to question your father’s stories, Luna,” Hermione said, a stubborn look crossing her pretty face. Luna felt a deep pang of regret, recognizing that the battle was lost. | 135dbeccb13445269acd68c4a9ddb4b6 | ['8239c01fa3b9445db3e6014add4786bc'] | “No, wait.” Ginny clasps her hand in hers and looks beseechingly into her eyes. “The Malfoys invited Prince to their new manor in Lyme to ring in the new year, but he had already agreed to go to the Burrow instead. He doesn’t want to hurt their feelings, though; they have so few friends left. So he agreed to visit during the day, and they included the rest of the staff in their invitation. Everyone else is busy with family, though. Please go with us! It will make everyone so happy.”
She relents, recognizing that her friend will not be dissuaded. _Merlin save me from the stubbornness of Weasleys,_ she inwardly sighs.
~~
They walk along a rocky outcropping that looks out onto a gently roiling sea. Lyme is beautiful in an entirely English way, she thinks. It is endearingly classic, a balm for the senses. No stark canyons and feverish wildlife for us Brits, she thinks sardonically. England is Hobbiton, not Mordor.
In front of them, the Malfoys—Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco—pop into existence. A soul-deep fatigue is written into every line of Draco’s body. He follows his parents on their hike towards the Hogwarts group.
Draco had been engaged to the younger Greengrass sister for more than three years. He had met her at a Ministry fundraising gala. She was the bright-eyed, keen young thing representing the war orphans fund. He was the purposeless rich boy who had found himself a man and not much liking it. Astoria had seen something in him that reminded her of the lost boys at the orphanage, and she took him under her wing. In return, Draco fell passionately in love with her. She had loved him equally, but she refused to marry him until he ‘found a passion other than her and turned it into a full-time position.’
To everyone’s surprise, Draco became deeply interested in becoming a Healer. He only had a year of training left when Astoria’s tea was poisoned by an insane witch who had visited the orphanage, pretending to want to adopt an orphan. At the murderess’s trial, it came out that the delusional witch thought that the orphans, most of whom were children of former Death Eaters, would grow up and become dark lords in the mold of Voldemort. She wanted to put away the woman who could enable the poor children to avenge their parents. Draco was inconsolable after Astoria’s untimely demise, and he spent all his hours at his books.
Watching the Malfoy scion, the Muggle Studies professor cannot help but feel a measure of hope. _He is young and handsome yet, not to mention wealthy,_ she considers. He has a chance for future happiness.
Lucius and Narcissa, with their white-blond hair and aristocratic mien, strike an interesting contrast with the black-haired, black-suited headmaster. They are surprisingly kind to her and Ginny, although Ginny is quite cold in response, particularly to Lucius. She supposes that Ginny’s understandable hatred of Lucius was the primary reason for inviting her on this escapade, but she feels mildly resentful for being used in such a manner. After all, she has just as much reason as Ginny for despising the Malfoys; the scar on her arm, courtesy of Narcissa’s sister Bellatrix, is physical proof of the fact. Only for him, she thinks, eyeing the headmaster’s retreating back, would she brave such an encounter with people she both fears and despises.
“There is a hot lunch waiting for you at the house,” Narcissa says. It is the first time that Hogwarts’ youngest professors have seen a true smile on Mrs. Malfoy’s face. The smile transforms her stern but pretty features into something altogether luminous, and it is suddenly easy to imagine Narcissa as the young girl who captured the dashing Lucius Malfoy’s heart.
“We look forward to it,” the Muggle Studies professor finds herself proclaiming, disposed to let bygones be bygones. In the end, Narcissa did save Harry’s life in the Final Battle.
As the group troops to the Malfoys’ home, she trails behind slightly, falling into step with Draco. They walk in unacknowledged fellowship, only speaking once they are seated together by the library’s cozy fire. With a pang, she feels that she must do her best to provide a temporary distraction, if not amusement, from Draco’s all-consuming misery. In nearby armchairs, the headmaster confers with Lucius, inaudible to all but each other. Ginny politely trades gossip with Narcissa, the former looking for all the world as though she would rather be tracking down a Crumple-Horned Snorkack.
It takes a few minutes, but she is soon able, in her own artless but effective way, to forget their old school rivalry long enough to strike up a genuinely interesting conversation.
“Granger,” Draco says patiently, “magic is not a gene, as your beloved Muggles are so fond of. It is a quantitative trait. Thus, it is inherently polygenic in nature, like height or skin color.”
“But if magic is not a recessive trait dictated by one gene, then how do you explain the all-or-nothing nature of its inheritance?” she challenges. “My parents are not magical, but for argument’s sake, suppose they each inherited a recessive magical allele from their parents. By the single-gene hypothesis, their recessive alleles were then passed on to create magical me. However, if magic is polygenic, as you say, then how do you explain my ability? By your reasoning, you can’t create something extraordinary out of nothing.”
_“De novo_ genetic mutation,” Draco replies dismissively. The hint of a spark in his manner suggests that her plan to cajole him into distraction is succeeding beyond her wildest dreams.
“But wouldn’t that necessitate multiple mutations across several loci?” she fires back, forgetting to use her ‘company’ voice. “A single mutation in one of the genes making up a quantitative trait wouldn’t have much effect; you can’t deny that my magic is far beyond a shade above a squib’s!” |
aa02f25be2d84661af4a40ee977a3fd6 | ['825b697a46ff46acb8ac18dc07d99ad7'] | She's _special_ , Clarke wants to say. _Wonderful_ comes to mind, a string of synonyms she's never heard of and yet now finally, finally understands.
“This is Lexa, she's playing Viola in that production I told you about. Twelfth Night.”
Finn doesn't respond, though he studies the subject in question as if trying to fathom the missing piece of a puzzle ( _spoiler alert: it's their_ _mouths_ _slotting in a jigsaw of colours_ ). “That's nice,” he says, eventually. The silence that follows is awkward at best, unbearable at worst.
Clarke tries not to stare at Lexa's lips, looks at Finn's instead. They're chapped, pursed in a disapproving frown.
“I should...” Lexa trails off.
Clarke doesn't want her to go, not if she can't follow, go “some place” like they always do after school.
“I'll see you later,” she promises, doing her utmost to sound casual. Lexa exits through the stage doors, and doesn't look back.
And then it's just Clarke and Finn, Finn and Clarke.
She holds her breath.
….........
Of course Clarke has a boyfriend.
Lexa was naive to believe anything else- that Clarke liked her, really liked her, that this was somehow “special”- that the other girl was ever acting out of anything other than boredom. _She kissed me because she was lonely, lied because I made it so easy// all her_ _claims_ _were building blocks; send tumbling._
Lexa thinks about the poem, Clarke's faux-confidence that she could re-write Act 5, create a kinder sort of love.
“Fuck,” she whispers, standing alone in the parking lot. Not that Lexa ever usually swears. That's more of a “Clarke” thing. She's just testing it out, trying not to throw up.
“I'm an idiot.” Only a lone pigeon is around to hear the proclamation, and he (she? They?), just fluffs dirty feathers and flies away. How fitting.
Lexa is, without a doubt, the most “screwed” person ever to exist, now or in any other age, time, place, or universe- and it's all because of college credit, chance encounters, and Clarke Griffin.
(Ironically, she couldn't _be_ a more perfect fit for Shakespeare).
….........
“What was that about?” Finn asks her, as soon as they're alone in the echoey room, space enough for Clarke's stupid heart to leap out of it's cage// _gone to join it's counterpart, escape into the flickering dark._
“What was what about?”
He grips her wrist a little too hard, forcing Clarke to meet his eyes.
“Don't play dumb with me, Clarke. You're too good at that.”
She tries to laugh it off. “Jesus, Finn, we were running lines, that's all. How was the long drive?”
He doesn't let go of her arm. “Clarke, you know why I-”
“I know, I know. I know.” If she affirms enough, maybe he'll take the bait and talk about himself. After all, “The life and times of Finn Collins” is Finn's favourite topic. It works.
“The drive was okay. Exhausting, obviously. And some _moron_ at Starbucks tried to short-change me for a cup of coffee.”
“That sounds-”
“Oh, I ran into Bellamy on the way over here. He's back from UCLA, said he'd talk to Octavia about arranging some group get-together. You're not busy Saturday night, are you?”
Clarke _is_ busy Saturday night. She and Lexa had arranged to go into the city, check out the new art exhibit. Her anger flares at the memory of the discussion, lying on Clarke's bed, fighting over who could name the most impressionist painters. Lexa won, but only because Clarke let her.
She isn't sure who she's most pissed at: Finn for showing up without giving her time to figure this whole thing out, or herself for leading Lexa into a house of cards trap.
_She thinks that we are summer flowers and shared sweaters, I think that we are bitten hands and stolen hours// in her version we are infinite, in my version, I just hold on tighter._
“I'm free.”
Finn kisses her cheek, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Clarke thinks about pulling out her phone to text Lexa, let her know that she won't be able to make it. It's not like she can blow off her long term _boyfriend_ , who just travelled cross-country to see her. (Right?)
She glances at Finn, now rambling about the price of gas (up four cents a gallon!), and abandons the idea.
Clarke can always do it later, when he's not around to watch over her shoulder.
“Later” turns out to be a _lot_ later, as Clarke's mom insists on cooking dinner for Finn, after he's already invited himself over for three hours to “watch Netflix for a bit.”
It's an... okay way to spend the evening. Finn intertwines their fingers under the table, enthralling them with stories of college classes and college bars, college dorms and college everything else.
Her mom burns the chicken pesto, and forgets to take their cheescake out of the freezer. Everyone pretends not to notice.
Clarke is too busy thinking about Lexa, about the last time they ate this meal together. Everything was new and exciting and the good kind of terrifying, like being four years old and staring up at the lightening. _She is the calm before the rain, and I am waiting, waiting..._
“Clarke?”
“Huh?”
Finn rolls his eyes. “I _said_ , do you want to watch The 100?”
Clarke hates The 100. “Yeah, sure. As long as it's not the episode with the shoot-out.”
“But that's my favourite.”
He plays it anyway. She doesn't complain.
She also doesn't text Lexa. Doesn't call her, either. She just watches shitty TV with Finn, wonders when his hands on her skin started making her cringe. (Avoids noting that Lexa's never did). | d17d319c3d7c4a1ba98c062b5cde903e | ['825b697a46ff46acb8ac18dc07d99ad7'] | Surely Octavia, _Abby_ should have noticed that something was off? Then again, perhaps Lexa was desperately searching for something wrong, for the “high school sweethearts” fairytale to fall apart. Not that she wanted _this_ to happen- she'd sooner see Clarke married with three dogs and a farmhouse, than sapped of her strength by a boy who can't even hold her heart right.
“Lexa?”
She's done it again, blanked out behind the wheel, hardly the safest of travelling companions.
“Sorry, I've been doing that a lot lately. Too often.”
Costia doesn't lecture Lexa on road safety, merely smiles like her “head in the clouds” philosophy is somehow funny. (It really isn't).
“I had fun tonight,” Lexa lies, cheeks heating at the thought of having to reject Costia, become the kind of girl who ditches her dates at their doorway. Not that Lexa gets a lot of dates, but _still_. It’s unprincipled.
“No you didn't.”
“What?”
Costia reaches over and kisses her, lips warm and sweet from the cinnamon roll she just ate in the restaurant. It's not fireworks, more like “string of Christmas lights,” though Lexa's mouth is too agape to properly respond.
She pulls away almost as quickly as she leaned in, leaving Lexa with nought more than swirling thoughts and smudged lipstick.
“What was that for?”
“I was saving you from the whole 'let's be friends!' spiel. We both know you're into Clarke.”
Great. Lexa might as well carry a sign declaring her intentions, wear all black to symbolise the death of her privacy. Or, perhaps Shakespeare was a satirist, and teenagers in love are far too obvious.
“Costia, I-”
“It's okay. I think we had our moment in the (proverbial) closet. And, not to get all 'angsty coming of age movie,' but I can tell she likes you, too.”
There's a pause, one where they both stare at the stray sunglasses on Lexa's dashboard. _Clarke's._ If the gesture is territorial, it's as vanilla as her body lotion. Similarly, in the case of sheer forgetfulness, Lexa can't help but find it hopelessly endearing.
“Plus, her boyfriend....”
“He's the worst,” Lexa parrots, unsure whether her choice of words is effective enough to convey Finn's utter _douchery._ In the spirit of Twelfth Night, maybe “scurvy fellow,” or “sheep-biter” (currently undefined, still effective) would be more appropriate.
“She'll break up with him,” Costia claims, a prophet _without_ a crystal ball. “In the mean-time, you can always talk to me about it. _Rant_ about it. Whichever you prefer.”
“Won't that be weird?"
“Not if we're friends.”
“Friends?”
“Friends.”
Friends it is.
Clarke shows up at her house.
Lexa knew she wouldn't let their last encounter serve as a loose thread, and knows Clarke well enough to guess that she wouldn't think twice about calling after twelve.
_You are a window to the sun// stained glass, four cornered; shrine to none// I was always afraid of the dark// with you, by god, the evening is positively// purple._
Lexa is lucky her parents are currently away on their “second honeymoon,” since Clarke takes the liberty of knocking on her front door, loud enough to wake all of the neighbours, and their surrounding estate.
“Let's go for a drive,” she says, without pause or preamble, truthfully looking tired and bedraggled. Lexa aches a little. “Finn's asleep, he stopped texting me a half hour ago.”
Lexa pretends like that's a “normal” comment to make, like everyone's social life freeze-frames the minute their significant other comes to visit.
“Shouldn't we discuss...”
“I just need to clear my head first. I don't know.” She wrings her hands around an invisible neck, potentially her boyfriend's. “Get away somewhere?”
“Okay.”
They get in Lexa's car, and head in the direction of “somewhere.”
….........
It's the roof.
It's always the roof, especially when Clarke has been at the mysterious green stuff in her mom's (untouched) liquor cabinet, currently on a mild buzz that does little to blur the edges of her consciousness. Or, “false consciousness” if pertaining to Marxism, the literary criticism that Lexa (in that hot-nerdy way of hers) doesn't stop talking about.
“You want some?” She offers her flask: silver, and scarred with colourful stencils of the planets.
To her surprise, Lexa gulps down the slime-esque crap in a single swift motion, tries and fails to hide her grimace. Clarke had figured the weed was a “one time thing,” though apparently her own corruptive influence stretches farther than you might think.
“Wow.”
Lexa smiles at her, fake yet faithful. Clarke has never wanted to kiss anyone so badly in her entire life, and her solution is to drink until she feels like throwing up. _Better to succumb to a comedy of errors, than admit we're entangled in a twenty first century tragedy._
They don't say anything for a while. It's stupid, really. This was the reason that Clarke came to see her at “it's-too-late” o'clock, telling herself that Lexa wants, needs, _deserves_ an explanation. Not that Clarke necessarily has one. She likes, loves, _craves_ the girl (now looking similarly green and sickly) beside her, but can't leave Finn for reasons only summarised in passive aggression and question marks.
He has some kind of hold over her, and it's wholly fucking terrifying that she's unable to figure out how or why, hates herself for being weak in the face of something as mundane as a _relationship_ \- one that only started because they were both drunk slash bored.
“I'm confused,” Clarke mutters aloud; thanks to the alcohol, her tongue is too big for her mouth. “How do I explain... the stuff?” (Okay, maybe her mom's ancient stash is stronger than it looks).
Lexa fumbles around in the pocket of her jacket, pulls out two neatly printed copies of the Twelfth Night script.
She hands one to Clarke, lets their fingers brush far longer than they should. It's weirdly grounding, tethering her to Lexa's version of earth.
“Run lines with me.” |
72a6463e14bd4a17b70958914454ec79 | ['82614840e4164485be030135051d6c1d'] | Fitz and Skye turned in unison, both surprised at the interruption. It reminded Steve far too much of how Fitz and Jemma often were, which only made her absence all the more apparent.
“There hasn’t been any chatter on the comms we’ve been monitoring, but considering how this was set up that doesn’t surprise me. They might very well know those lines of communication were compromised and chose not to use them. I was able to track the vehicles that they took her in a ways, but we lose them about here,” Skye said while pointing to a spot on the map they had displayed.
“She was injected with nanobots which I’m guessing when activated transmit a signal, but I haven’t been able to locate the activation protocols. I’m trying to work around that and find a possible frequency range based on the mechanics, but there’s clearly an external component to all of this that I don’t have,” Fitz added, frustration clear in his voice.
“Her palm never stopped bleeding at the injection point.”
Steve turned around at the familiar voice interrupting them. “Bucky, you’re not supposed to be-”
“I’m not running off, now am I? I even left the IV in, just like you asked,” he said, gesturing to the the now-mobile drip he’d wheeled into the room with him.
Natasha gave an amused snort at that, to which Steve gave her a rather stern look. “What?” she said. “He’s right. He is doing what you asked.”
Bucky ignored them. “She said something about an anticoa...antiloant…”
“Anticoagulant? To make it easier to flow through the bloodstream. So they’d be in there until flushed from her body. Which means if we can find the frequency…” Fitz started.
“...we can find her. Fitz, could that be the activation? Could they be coded to her dna or something?”
Fitz frowned. “Jemma would be the one who could tell you that. But...it’s possible, yes. Maybe that would activate the ones that are left?”
“And then you can find the frequency-”
“-and you can trace it.”
“How soon can you get this done?” Steve asked, impressed with how quickly the two of them were able to take the new information and work it into a solution.
“An hour tops for the frequency,” Fitz said confidently.
“If the signal’s still transmitting, it shouldn’t take me more than a few minutes to pinpoint it,” Skye added.
“Well, don’t let us stop you,” Steve said, giving them permission to get to work, not that it was needed. They’d already started before he could even finish his sentence.
He turned back to Bucky and gave him a look, to which Bucky rolled his eyes and lifted a hand, already turning around and heading out. “I’m going, I’m going,” the man muttered.
Natasha waited until he was out of earshot before muttering, “I give him ten minutes before he’s already back up and pestering Fitz and Skye for updates.”
“That’s generous. I was only going to give him five,” Steve replied.
A tiny smirk crossed her face, but faded just as quickly. “Guess we’d better let Coulson know what’s happening.”
Steve nodded. “Yeah, we should,” he said starting toward the office. This wasn’t going to be a fun call, but at least it would be better than the last one. Almost anything would have been better than that.
2. Chapter 2
_She was alone in the lab when he arrived. It had been a couple of months since they last time they’d been in the same place at the same time, and he knew she wasn’t expecting him. He was eager to see her, yet he paused before entering. The lab was mostly dark, leaving her illuminated by just a couple of screens and the moving figures on holotable she seemed to be working with. The glow lit her body in a way that made her seem ethereal, a shining otherworldly presence in a world of shadows and darkness. In that moment she was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen and it made his heart ache. She didn’t deserve this life. She might have chosen it, but she was too good for it. She deserved far better than any of them could give her._
_He would have continued watching her, but at that moment she looked up from her work and her eyes found his. A delighted grin broke across her face and he went ahead and entered, knowing he couldn’t linger outside any longer. The moment he entered she practically tackled him with a hug, and he couldn’t help the smile that was growing on his own face as he returned it. He missed being around her, her enthusiasm, her infectious optimism. She was unique among the ragtag remnants of SHIELD, and there were few people he enjoyed being around more._
_“Bucky! It’s so good to see you! I wasn’t expecting you for another month at least. I take it things went well?”_
_He nodded. As well as they could have. “Everything went like clockwork for once. Things here are good? What are you working on?”_
_She almost looked embarrassed for a moment. “It’s a little...side-project of mine, I suppose. Since we recovered the data on GH-325 and several variants of the original super soldier serum, like the Centipede formula and Extremis, I’ve been trying to isolate the chemical compounds that enhance healing. See, these here…”_
_She took his hand and pulled him over to the holo table, starting to pulling up various chemical structures, talking excitedly about what she’d been working on. He didn’t understand much of it, but he watched her with interest nonetheless, captivated more by how alive she became while speaking so passionately about her work. He loved seeing her like this, and it put him at ease to see that some parts of her hadn’t been touched by this shadow war they were waging with HYDRA._ | 3eeae55465bd4c47a4c748e3c4f283af | ['82614840e4164485be030135051d6c1d'] | Jemma felt incredibly awkward and exposed sitting on the train, trying to sip her tea as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to be doing. She’d gotten better about these things, about hiding her nerves, about stuttering over lies since SHIELD’s fall. She hadn’t had a choice really; adapt or die. It didn’t change how she _felt_ however. She would swear the entire train could hear her heart beating faster than it should. She wanted to look over at Bucky for reassurance, but that would be a dead giveaway that she wasn’t alone. Instead she glanced out the window, pretending to be interested in the countryside. It was lovely, but she wasn’t really focused on it.
It was just a minute past noon when someone slid into the seat across from her. She turned her head to look at them. A rather nondescript man with dark, curly hair and blue eyes. The only thing that made him noticeable at all was how his nose was slightly bent, as if it had been broken and not reset properly in time. He slid a folded up paper toward her. “I believe you dropped this.”
Jemma gave him a tiny smile and nod that was meant to come off as grateful. “Thank you.” He returned the nod and left her the paper, sliding out of the booth to leave her alone. Once he’d gone from the car she breathed a sigh of relief and reached to pull the paper back toward her.
The moment she pressed her palm to it, however, she felt a sharp prick that made her gasp and pull her hand back immediately. She turned her palm over to reveal a dot of blood welling up. Her stomach turned. This was _not_ good. She swallowed hard and pulled the paper toward her by the edge this time, carefully unwrapping it to find not the promised thumb drive but instead a needle attached to a tiny, almost flat container which was now empty.
Before she could even process it all Bucky was sliding into the bench next to her. “What’s wrong, I thought I heard you-” It was only then that he looked down at the contents of the table. She would have sworn he lost some of his color as he pulled her bleeding hand toward him. “ _Shit._ Jemma…” He looked up at her. “How are you feeling? Anything out of the ordinary? Tiredness, pain, anything?”
The questions came rapidly, and were enough to jerk her out of the shock that she’d been in. “N...No, I don’t feel like anything’s wrong. But...something _has_ to be, right?” She looked up at him, wide-eyed and scared. She had no idea what had been in the syringe, nor did she have any way of finding out at the moment. If she had some equipment she could find out easily, but she had next to nothing with her.
He swallowed hard, not answering her question, but he didn’t need to. They both knew the answer to that. After a brief moment he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, but when he pulled back his demeanor had changed. It was cold, deadly, focused. He was falling back on his training, slipping into the mode he used for his missions. It was something close to what he used to be as the Winter Soldier, but there was something in his eyes, a sense of humanity, that differentiated the two. The Winter Soldier had been little more than a killing machine, this was Bucky steeling himself for work that needed to be done. “Go to the bathroom at the end of the car and lock yourself in. _Now._ I’ll be back for you in a couple minutes.”
And then he was gone as quickly as he’d been at her side. She didn’t hesitate, wrapping the syringe back up in the paper and fleeing to the bathroom, locking herself in the small compartment. Setting the paper aside, she once again hesitantly turned her palm up to look at what had been done. The wound was tiny, hardly larger than a pinprick, but she could also tell it went fairly deep. It hadn’t stopped bleeding yet, either, which was unusual. Did it have an anticoagulant agent? That wouldn’t be good. Then again, what _would_ be good in this instance? She was sitting here, alone, injected with an unknown substance and _there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it!_
She forced herself to breathe. She couldn’t let herself panic, not here, not now. Bucky would be back soon and they would figure it out. Maybe he’d be able to get some answers from the man he’d no doubt run off to track down before he could escape. She didn’t want to think about just _what_ Bucky was going to do to the man to get those answers, but that was why she was here and he was there. She wasn’t ignorant of what he was capable of, especially when it came to the people he cared about, but sometimes out of sight, out of mind was the best adage to follow. Not a sentiment she ever thought she’d subscribe to, but the years since SHIELD’s initial fall had changed them all.
She went to the sink and began to scrub her palm. It probably wouldn’t do anything, but at least then she wouldn’t get blood on anything and it gave her something to focus on in the meantime. Not that the distraction lasted long, there was only so much scrubbing she could do, and no matter how hard she tried it just wouldn’t stop _bleeding_. Definitely an anticoagulant then, probably to make sure whatever it was would move through her bloodstream unimpeded. Brilliant. |
e88cad39b9c14bdf95fc0615ad6938d0 | ['826e76c1c49947a5a7ce56cfbbd4b86b'] | We soon entered the flat, closing the door behind us and making our way to the sofa. The room was cold and unwelcoming, with multiple scents filling the flat. I made sure to place the key on the small table next to the sofa so that I didn't forget. Looking at it closer, I could see multiple rips in the leather and even a few springs lying on the floor around it. But there was no time to be picky. Gently, I lowered Kise onto the couch so that he was sitting up right, lifting his right foot onto the coffee table so that his injured foot was properly elevated, and made myself room so that I could crouch down in front of him.
"Kise, do you have any medicine here?" I had my doubts about even asking that, since the room was something close to a landfill. Empty glass bottles and used needles lay discarded on the floor, making the place a hazard wherever you stood. I also noticed a disgusting smell upon entering the flat; something that smelt like a mix of out of date milk, dirty laundry and rotting floor boards. Despite all of it, I tried to stay focused on Kise and his health.
Kise remained silent in thought, whilst his quivering body continued to shake. The room was dimly lit, the only source of light at the present time came from one of the rooms behind where I was crouching in front of Kise.
Finally, I received an answer from Kise. "Bathroom... cabinet... maybe...". His lack of confidence in his answer probably meant there wasn't any, but it was a lot better then waiting around doing nothing.
"Where's the bathroom Kise?"
"...it's the room... with the light on". Without wasting anymore time, I made my way over to the room that was fairly well lit.
Walking inside, the first thing that hit me was the smell. Before, when I smelt that mix of odors, was nothing compared to the smell in here, so putrid that I had to physically hold my nose. The smell of shit, vomit and piss filled the air, along with a whiff of rotting sewage, that I can tell without looking, is coming from behind the walls and seeping through. Mold climbed up the walls of the tiny bathroom and painted it a disgusting shade of green, almost making me vomit. Never before have I smelt or seen something this appalling. My eyes were even starting to burn from the toxic odor that consumed the room, the aroma so strong that I swear I can almost taste it on my tongue.
"Christ...". Without a moment's hesitation, I flung open the cabinet, only to find an array of drug equipment, ranging from needles to used spoons, with some of the contents dried up inside of it. Was Kise the one using these? Or was it...
Angry at everything I was seeing, I slammed the cabinet shut and exited the bathroom. I couldn't stand another minute of that room. Everything from the smell to the contents made me feel sick to my stomach. I stopped just outside of the room and, for some reason, decided to speak to the blonde from there. "There was... nothing in there. Do you think I can find something anywhere else?" If I don't find anything, I will have to go out and either borrow some from a neighbor or go and buy some, either way resulted in Kise being left alone, which I didn't like the thought of at all.
"...Bedroom...". From where I stood, Kise looked as if he was only seconds away from falling unconscious, either from his injury or a lack of sufficient rest. His voice was calm, but his body was having a meltdown. Between his injuries and his fear of thunder, his body is barely keeping up, his eyes struggling to keep open and his body shivering vigorously.
By the look of things, there was only one room left in the flat, so I guessed that it was the bedroom. From my previous experience from the bathroom, I wasn't holding my breath about the room being very well kept. Entering the bedroom, I felt my body turn cold. There was no obvious and offensive smell, but the room looked an absolute mess. The badly applied, black wallpaper was peeling off in numerous spots, revealing a dirty cream colour behind it. Many different sized holes scattered the wall, presumably from someone either punching or shooting the thin walls. Looking at the floor, it wasn't much better. Some floorboards were missing and bongs of different sizes littered the ground, along with an array of multiple... used... condoms. I could feel the blood rushing to my head at the thought of Kise living here, sleeping and having sex in this filthy dump. My fists clenched tightly beside my body, my brows beginning to knit in the centre of my forehead. Calm down, Aomine. You need to calm down. Deal with this later. Help Kise. Look for medicine. Slowly, I inhaled a long breath through my nose, and exhaled out through my mouth until I calmed my raging emotions. The only piece of furniture that occupied the room was a single bed, since there was no way a double could fit in the minuscule room. | 9f137ef994524fd2bf0315cb34536857 | ['826e76c1c49947a5a7ce56cfbbd4b86b'] | "Ah, it is you, I almost didn't recognise you since you aren't wearing a suit." Sakurai seemed different, as though he was more confident and less frightened to interact with people. I took note of the coffee placed in his hands and assumed that his change of character was from the caffeine. "Why are you here Aomine-san, I thought you were ill and bedridden". Damn this guy was observant.
Not wanting to answer his question, I decided to flip the conversation in my favour. "I could ask you the same thing. Isn't it a bit late for you to still be here?".
"How about we sit down over here and talk?" He pointed towards a small table near the window that was away from the bustling crowd of impatient workers. Once we sat down, Sakurai began to answer my question. "The office was in chaos today, since our dealership with Seirin Incorporated went bust. We tried all day to make them see reason, attempting to make them stay partnered with us. It was only an hour ago that they finally accept our deal, which is why most of the office is here restocking on energy." After hearing that, I felt a glimmer of guilt in me, for all I had done all day was sleep, eat and laze about at home whilst everyone at the office was working non stop until 6.30.
" Why didn't you say something? I would of gone in and helped out!" The guilt got to me and I desperately hoped that I would hear a reassuring answer from the hard working employee.
"B-because you called in and said you were bedridden. I-I've never heard of you being that ill before so I thought it was something terrible." I could hear his voice go back to its usual stuttering mess, his posture no longer strong and calm, but weak and nervous. Knowing that I had been making him feel responsible for everything, I calmed down, not wanting to make anything worse. It was my fault for lying and being selfish after all.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to feel responsible for everything. It was my fault. You can probably tell from just looking at me that I lied about being ill."
His face became looser and you could see his body relax more. "That's alright, don't worry about it, it's done now anyway. So, why did you lie? And why are you hear right now?" I still felt as though I let down a lot of people, but Sakurai is right. There's not a lot I can do about it now. His words really do help sometimes and I should show him that I do appreciate what he does for me.
"Wait one second". I quickly got up and shuffled through the mass of people waiting around the counter and ordered a black coffee and a blueberry muffin to go. The service was actually pretty quick considering the amount of customers there at the moment. I arrived back to Sakurai and sat down a few minutes later and presented him with the muffin. "Here. As an apology".
Instantly, Sakurai tried to weasel out of the gesture, being too kind and considerate for his own good. "No I-I can't possible take this!"
"Just take it, idiot" I said, taking one of his hands in mine, forcing it open and plopping the sweet snack into his hand without his consent.
The smaller man looked down at the muffin and then back up to my gaze. "T-then t-thank you Aomine-san, I'm sorry!". As a sign to show me that he was thankful for the snack, Sakurai took a bite out of the treat. You could almost see the stars in his eyes. Not a second later, the man took a massive chunk out of the muffin, quickly swallowing and going for yet another massive bite.
In less than a minute, the muffin was gone from sight. It didn't surprise me at all, since lunch at the office is at 12.30, meaning he hadn't had a bite to eat in 7 hours. However, not even letting out a moment to breath will eating was a bit of a push, even for my standard of manners.
"Well you were hungry, weren't you?" I said in a snarky tone.
Sakurai looked up from the empty muffin wrapper that laid in his hands. It was faint, but you could see disappointment and sadness in his expression. Realising how uncivilised he must have looked whilst eating, the business man started rambling once more. "I-I'm so sorry! That was incredibly rude of me! I don't even know what came over me. I guess the hunger I had been avoiding caught up with me".
I smiled, noticing that there was a crumb on the corner of his mouth.
"Do you think you could manage one last crumb?" I said, tapping the right side of my mouth as a clue.
As soon as Sakurai realised, a pink blush flushed his cheeks. Quickly, he picked off the crumb and licked it off his finger.
A smile appeared on Sakurai's still pink face, small but genuine. "Thank you for that. You always seem to know what to do at the right time."
Unintentionally, a smile also appeared on my face. "It's no big deal, besides, I wanted to say thanks for always taking care of me".
Sakurai looked absolutely taken away by what I had said, making my heart ache since the co-worker hadn't been told that before. He should have been told that before now and yet I failed to tell him.
"T-that's perfectly alright! You don't have to thank me!"
Just as I was about to fight back with him about how he was completely wrong, I felt a buzz in my pocket again. "Sorry, I have to get this". |
0796adfdc7a94c5fbba36c1406f9c619 | ['826edddcdd034b7ea909ebfea03ccee8'] | Special Occasion
**Author's Note:**
> Based on the 3B Malec sneak peek
Alec had stirred awake to the sound of footsteps in the kitchen, the faint smell of eggs and bacon wafting through the door, and the morning sun's rays poking through the cracks in the curtains. Usually he was the first one up in the mornings to get ready and head off to the Institute. But it was finally Sunday, and Alec wanted to take the time to sleep in. Last night had been a late one, messing with paperwork in his office well past when it got dark.
When Alec sat up in bed, the door to the bedroom creaked open. He was greeted by the smiling face of his husband, carrying a tray with a couple plates of food and completed with a rose in the corner. "Good morning Alexander," Magnus smiled as he placed the tray on the bed.
Just as Alec suspected, eggs, bacon, and toast. Magnus had a soft grin on his face. Alec paused, still trying to blink away the sleepiness and put together why Magnus had gone through the trouble of making breakfast early and bringing it to him in bed.. “Morning,” he replied back. “What’s all this?”
“I’d think you’d know breakfast when you’d see it, Alexander,” Magnus teased. He leaned in and kissed Alec’s forehead.
Alec gave a small smile. “”Is today a special occasion?”
“It’s your day off,” Magnus said. “And we wanted to make the most of it.”
It was the ‘we’ in Magnus’ sentence that suddenly made Alec hear a faint thundering of quick footsteps coming closer to them. The bedroom door suddenly bandged open, and Alec was bombarded with the excited shrills of two little kids that barrelled into the room.
The kids clambered onto the bed, all while giggling and calling out “Daddy!”
Now Alec couldn’t hide his joy as he hugged his and Magnus’ kids. Their oldest girl, a Shadowhunter like Alec, and the younger boy, a Warlock like Magnus. Alec hugged each one of them in turn as they giggled and wished him a good morning.
“They helped a little,” Magnus was smiling as well.
“I’m sure they did,” Alec chuckled. He had one arm around their son while their daughter sat on Alec’s legs, a lollipop clutched in her little fist.
Alec rarely got mornings like this. On the few days he actually got time off, he was usually still up early, getting work-related texts from the Institute, or taking care of the kids. But the fact that he got to sleep in even a little, and spend the morning with his husband and kids, the people he loved most in this world… Alec truly felt content. He was more at home and happy than he’d ever been in his life, just having these soft moments with his family.
“That’s actually really sweet,” Alec said.
“I thought so,” Magnus smiled.
**Author's Note:**
> find me at truelightwood.tumblr.com and @true_lightwood on twitter | 356e56271d97421fae0283917ab6244e | ['826edddcdd034b7ea909ebfea03ccee8'] | Magnus chuckled. “If you frequent the Hunter’s Moon, I would think you’d drink more often.” Magnus had run into Alec a couple times at the bar by now. And Alec mentioned it enough for Magnus to assume he was there fairly often.
Magnus' signing had improved a lot. ASL wasn't too hard to get the hang of. Anyone could hold their own in a conversation once they learned the basics. Plus, Magnus speaking along as he signed helped Alec a lot. It was much easier to understand when paired with moving lips and facial expressions, especially when Magnus fumbled his signs or came across a word he didn't know. One thing Alec had noticed was that when speaking, Magnus was very eloquent. What made Magnus stumble his words was his search for more expressive words, while also running into the fact that ASL grammar differed from English a lot. Alec found it endearing.
Alec shrugged. _I go there to get away more than to drink._
Magnus paused, the smile slowly fading from his face.
Alec saw it. _Sorry_ , he signed, a fist making a circle on his chest. _I don’t need to get all moody with my answers. Iz says I do that sometimes._
“It’s alright,” Magnus replied. “I appreciate the honesty.”
_It's a thing_ , Alec said. _Deaf people tend to be more honest. Different social cues for us...something like that_.
Magnus nodded. "How did you sign yourself up for those classes?" Magnus asked. "Like the sign language classes and stuff. I've heard that the Clave wasn't very happy about that because of the mundane school..."
Alec was gazing over the Brooklyn skyline. _My mother signed me up, actually._
Magnus stared at Alec, the surprise evident in his expression. It made Alec chuckle. _It's true. I was nine. It was after she and my dad stopped looking for a way to fix me_ \-- the word 'fix' came with a hint of a nasty expression -- _She saw how much I was struggling trying to communicate. It was her idea, but she was worried what the Clave would think..._
"It shouldn't have been the Clave's business," Magnus said.
_Everything's the Clave's business,_ Alec said. _She feared the worst...that they'd think she was involving us too much with mundanes, and I'd be taken away because of it._
Magnus had been all too aware of the way Shadowhunters treated those who didn't fit into their little mold. Kids separated from their families, people sent away because they couldn't be a soldier... It was selfish, but Magnus was thankful they hadn't done that to Alec.
_I took the blame so she wouldn't. I didn't care if people thought I was turning against Shadowhunters. If it meant I could learn sign, I'd do it._
"Very noble of you, Alexander."
Alec nodded, still gazing out over the balcony. _It was the least I could do. I mean... all the other Shadowhunters already hated me anyway._
Alec had known that his whole life. He saw the way others looked at him, and how they'd whisper to their friends while almost having a sneer on their faces. Alec tried so hard to make up for it when he was younger. He practiced fighting and became a great marksman with a bow. He studied the same books that the other kids did in classes. He had the Angelic Rune. But none of that mattered in anyone else's eyes. He couldn't hear, so none of it mattered.
"It's not right, Alexander," Magnus signed. "I hope you know that."
Alec nodded. _I do now_.
Alec liked the way Magnus smiled. His smiles were very soft and genuine. Some, he could tell, were just smiles reserved to get through conversations with people he particularly didn't like. Magnus' smiles were different for Alec.
Magnus put a hand on Alec's shoulder, a gentle gesture before signing, "You're causing a shake up in the Clave," Magnus said. "It's changing things."
Alec shrugged. _I'm just living my life the way I need to._
Magnus gently took Alec's hand, resting them both on the railing of the balcony. They lapsed into a silence, enjoying each other's company while looking out over the city.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I hope this chapter can provide a little bit of a break for anyone else participating in the craziness that is this #SaveShadowhunters campaign! Keep participating, but take some time for breaks too!
> Find me at gryffindoralec.tumblr.com
4. Part 4
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> A routine morning with homemade breakfast brings in one of Magnus' old friends.
Magnus opened the curtains with a simple flick of his wrist, letting the bright morning sun shine in through the window in warm rays. Another flick of his wrist turned on the coffee maker, and Magnus soon got to work making breakfast. He could easily summon up a breakfast from any corner of the world, but he enjoyed the process of making a good homemade breakfast. Plus, no matter how many times Magnus portaled them around the world, Alec always said his favorite meals were homemade.
Magnus has just finished whipping up the pancake batter when he heard a few soft footfalls behind him. A pair of strong arms wrapped around Magnus’ stomach and he felt a kiss on his cheek before a chin rested on his shoulder.
“Good morning,” Magnus said, resting one hand over Alec’s wrist. Alec let out a little hum in return, and Magnus could tell Alec was still blinking away the sleepiness.
They stayed like that for a few moments, taking in the warmth and the closeness of the other man. It hadn’t taken long for Magnus or Alec to let each other in. The language they shared somehow seemed like it was just between the two of them, and it made both of them quickly let their respective guards down and grow a close intimacy and affection. Things seemed so easy now, making mornings like this all that more enjoyable. |
b04290ac99c44a7197e12739afa8ea64 | ['826fa4585b384138b8318d781400a186'] | Aidan & Scarlet support conversation level A
Scarlet: I haven’t found Aidan anywhere this morning, so that means one thing… he’s training at the arena.
Aidan: Ah, Mr. Pell… we finally meet…
Scarlet: (Bullseye! And this looks to get interesting…)
Aidan: My name is Aidan, you slaughtered my father… PREPARE TO PERISH!
Scarlet: Hey, don’t go berserk on him! He’s helping you to train better after all.
Aidan: S-Scarlet! For how long have you been here?
Scarlet: More than enough, it seems.
Aidan: … This is only between you and me, ok?
Scarlet: Don’t worry your secret is safe with me. Ha ha. Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks for your help on this last days, but I don’t know how to repay you.
Aidan: You’re welcome! And I think that we’re even since now.
Scarlet: Fair enough! Oh and by the way, I think I DO know you from somewhere!
Aidan: You do?
Scarlet: I think so, you were in the Red Eagle Brotherhood 5 years ago, weren’t you?
Aidan: Yes, I was! Wow, it’s been a while huh? I’ll be fair though. I remember we just had a little chat back then.
Scarlet: You’re right! Because you were on the infantry division while I was with the flyers.
Scarlet: … There is something that had puzzled me lately. What happened to you? How did you end up here?
Aidan: Well, it all began in my first battle. I got my first kill there, for someone else it should have been great but for me it was terrifying. I still have nightmares of that moment… Then we went to raid a village and I couldn’t stand seeing the villagers being taken bullied by my “comrades”… I was caught helping some kids to escape, the leaders saw that as a sign of weakness so they kicked me out. Since then I’ve survived by winning tournaments, being a best man at weddings, worked as a bodyguard… you know, non-lethal jobs. But for some personal reasons I got back into war work and shortly after I was captured by you guys and joined in.
Scarlet: I… I think I remember that battle. You see, back then the resistance was running low on money so my best soldiers and I joined the brotherhood to get some gold for the cause. Simple, right? Well, it was until that raid… we just found out that we were doing the same thing as the Nohrians do on Cheve and for me that’s unacceptable! So we took our first pay and left back home straight away.
Aidan: Well, I guess we’re alike in more than I thought, ha ha
Scarlet: Right? It’s curious how time goes by and the things that happen. Anyway, I’m glad that then and now we’re allies!
Aidan: Me too! And I hope in the future we stay as allies and friends!
Scarlet: Yes! I hope so, too!
Aidan: …
Scarlet: …
Aidan: So… you wanna take turns on hitting Mr. Pell?
Scarlet: Ha ha ha, sure! I call dibs for the first strike!
Aidan: Well then, do your worst!
*Aidan and Scarlet attained support level A* | dae21081e40747b6af83fd2a13a5d5da | ['826fa4585b384138b8318d781400a186'] | Aidan & Scarlet support conversation level C
Aidan: Ah, it seems to be the perfect time for some solo training in the arena!
Aidan: …Wait a second, someone is already training. Who is that?
Scarlet: HI-IYAH! HAA!
Aidan: It’s none other than Scarlet. Maybe she’s close to finish so I’ll wait here (and take some notes of course).
Scarlet: HEE- … Why do I feel being watched?
Scarlet: Hey, you! Yes, the creeper on the front row!
Aidan: Haha, alright alright! You caught me.
Scarlet: Oh it’s only you, Aidan. Why are you here? Did no one tell you that is rude to watch others unannounced?
Aidan: First off: Hi how are you? Second: I just happened to get here so I could train for a while but as it seems, you already made the ground your own, and I was wondering if-
Scarlet: I could finish my training so you could begin? Well, tough luck because I’m just done with my warm up and I’m about to do my main training.
Aidan: Yes… and also that you seem somewhat familiar, as if we knew each other some years ago and-
Scarlet: If you watch me for long it will refresh your memory? Sorry, but you just don’t ring a bell for me and if we have ever met, I would recognize you immediately.
Aidan: (Well that was rude…)
Scarlet: Excuse me?
Aidan: oh nothing, nothing!
Scarlet: *sigh* listen, I don’t want to get moody so I’ll be diplomatic and ask you to wait for your turn outside.
Aidan: Alright then, I’m leaving. But have you considered having some review? From what I’ve seen your footwork seems off, maybe if you didn’t spend most of your time fighting on top of your wyvern-
Scarlet: Her name is Joan…
Aidan: …Maybe if you didn’t spend most of your time fighting on top of Joan, you could have a better chance in case you can’t count on her. So, what do you think?
Scarlet: …Fine, just because I’m a little rusty fighting on foot. Just don’t get too annoying, alright?
Aidan: I promise!
Scarlet: Good… *sigh* …HEI-
Aidan: Watch your balance!
Scarlet: This is going to be a long afternoon…
*Aidan and Scarlet attained support level C.* |
ae4eaea230484bfd93b4d0f1198c39c7 | ['8281771c5e854c0cbd44ea652a5a9379'] | Fathym didn't budge, just continued to give her that look as if he only had to wait long enough for her to recover her senses and swoon into his arms. “You don't know what you're missing.” He crooned. “Oh, but actually you do.” His smiled turned a little predatory and he curled an arm around her, grasping her buttocks. She batted at him but he didn't let go. With a snarl of frustration she shoved him hard and he staggered back a couple of paces.
“Get out.” She repeated.
He held up his hands. “You know where I am when you need me.” And with that, he left. Hot tears of fury and shame splashed onto her cheeks. She attempted to stifle her sobs with the back of her hand, but some still trickled out. A soft sound nearby reminded her of her guests. She saw the gleam of their eyes in the shadows, the lamplight glittering along the edges of their drawn weapons.
“Is everything all right?”
As her chest constricted, she didn't want to have to answer them, didn't want to deal with the masculine pride that had been about to intervene upon her own foolishness on her behalf. Bursting into floods of tears, she fled the room and ran upstairs.
Zanakal tensed, ready to follow. Kezutet placed a hand on his arm and shook his head. “I don't think she would appreciate either of us right now.”
He glanced instead at the door where the Dunmer had left and a menacing grin spread across his angular features. “Some nightmares might make him think twice before upsetting our lady again.”
“Yes.” Kezutet chuckled. “Let's put the terror of Oblivion into that idiot mortal.”
*
She heard the library door open and close again. She could almost feel the departure of the two Dremora as the two intensely masculine presences left. More tears spilled onto her cheeks. Not even they could stand to be near her now. She felt desolate and utterly ashamed, not because of what Fathym had done, but because she had, in some hateful, weak part of herself wanted his offer. She bit the pillow and trembled as she tried to keep her tears inside herself. Mostly she coped, living alone, facing the daily troubles that occurred - mainly because she was here alone but there were times, in the deepest parts of the night when she did get lonely and did wish, that just for a moment she didn't have to worry, that there was someone strong nearby to help, or take charge... She sighed, the real reason, she supposed, that she had urged the Dremora to stay with her, but even they saw her weakness and were embarrassed by it.
She was asleep by the time they returned. Zanakal peered into her room and saw her tangled amongst her blankets, still fully dressed, handkerchiefs scattered around her. He crossed the room, surprisingly quietly for a being his size and with the utmost care, removed her shoes, cleared away the handkerchiefs and tucked the blankets around her.
Kezutet met him by the door, a frown of concern on his face. “She sleeps now.” Zanakal told him.
“Fathym does not.”
The two Dremora shared a wicked grin and went to their respective beds.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Again I feel that there should be "more" in some places but I'm just not sure! I'd welcome any suggestions.
3. III
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Meredit begins to grow accustomed to her new houseguests. A stranger arrives at the library. Meredit learns more about Dremora.
III
She still felt hollow and desolate when she woke up in the morning, loathing herself for missing damn Fathyn and that illusion she'd kept so close to her breast when they'd been together that she had someone. He was right, the men weren't beating a path to her door. A prickly, stern librarian did not suit the available men of Leyawin who desired someone younger, more biddable and who wasn't tied to the rambling library building. Was Fathyn's casually given “offer” what her romantic life amounted to? Sex when she “needed” it but no real fondness there, no one to tell her, “Meredit, you're a wonderful woman,” she felt the tears spring to her eyes again and she fought them away as she went downstairs. No profit in thinking like that. She had a library to run, a lot of people depended on her and longing for a man to cuddle at night was clearly a fruitless wish. | 32e098216ee74146ba192d8b45eb4323 | ['8281771c5e854c0cbd44ea652a5a9379'] | Zanakal arrived, a cloak over his armour to conceal his form. She giggled nervously. He was still taller than even the Altmer men that lived in Leyawin and his muscular body, combined with the spiked ornate armour beneath the cloak made him seem positively terrifying. Still, if anyone wanted to cause trouble in her library today they'd be fools for doing so. He went and stood near the door, in a shadowed spot where he might be missed by casual observers and remained there.
She stared at her two guardians, still unable to quite believe that they were actually going through with her request and despite feeling that her equilibrium was utterly out of balance because of Kezutet's behaviour, she was equally astonished by just how safe she felt with them there.
Meredit squared her shoulders, tipped her head haughtily and unbolted the library door in preparation for the day.
*
By lunchtime she was flicking at the quills in their cup on her desk, disappointed that bandits hadn't tried to hijack the library and run off with its treasures or any other disaster that she'd been dreading before. Some scholars from the mage's guild had been in to study and the townsfolk had been by to read the latest copy of the Black Horse Courier but that was all.
She smiled at Kezutet, who had nodded off in his chair, the book limp in his grasp while Zanakal still stood, poised, by the door. She felt a little foolish. Maybe the rogues in the area had given up on the library as a target and she had overreacted to the whole threat, dragging the Dremora into her life when in truth they didn't belong in it.
She sighed, but if they'd truly wanted to die then they wouldn't have agreed to come here in the first place and it was probably just as well for the sakes of their healing bodies that nothing dreadful had happened on their first day. She wandered over to Zanakal and whispered, “Go on through, I'll fix you up something to eat.”
She left some cold meat, bread, fruit and cheese out for him, which she hoped he'd leave enough for Kezutet when he woke up and wandered back to the library.
“Excuse me.” A cultured male voice said. “I wonder if you could help me.”
“Certainly.” She beamed at the rather handsome Imperial. “What is it you're looking for?”
“Have you any further specific texts on alchemy? I've read the Fundamentals of course, but what I need is a little more...involved.”
“There's quite a few good texts on alchemy over in our arcane section.” She walked over to the shelves with him, expounding on the various merits of a number of the items in her catalogue. She did enjoy her work after all.
“Thank you.” He gave her a dazzling smile that sent her pulse racing then took a few books to one of the reader tables while Meredit went to sit back at her desk again. Kezutet opened his eyes and peered at the newcomer from beneath his cowl with a frown on his face. He fingered his dagger, liking this Imperial not at all. For all that he was making a great show of opening and closing books and flicking pages, the man's eyes weren't on the words at all but straying around the library, settling now and then on the oblivious Meredit.
Zanakal returned to his post a short time later and Kezutet was gratified that his friend quickly noticed the strange behaviour of the Imperial. They exchanged a glance but Zanakal shook his head and gave a brief indication in the direction of Meredit. Kezutet sat back. He was right, of course, their Lady would not appreciate a scene, not if they could not justify their suspicions. For all he knew the Imperial was just a poor scholar whose mind was easily distracted.
As the day wore on, the Imperial abandoned his books, taking one with him to the desk. “I'm wondering if I may borrow this one, your particular recommendation was the most useful.”
Meredit preened a little with professional pride. “Certainly. Are you new to Leyawin?”
“I'm passing through.” he replied. “I'm staying at the Five Claws Lodge for at least a couple of weeks. That won't be a problem for my borrowing this will it?”
“No, no, of course not. If you just leave the book with the proprietor he will return it to me after you go. Many visitors to Leyawin enjoy the privilege of reading during their stay.”
“I'm sure they do and it is most kind of you to ensure it.”
“All part of the service.” She smiled.
He filled out the form and chatted with her amiably. “I don't suppose,” he added bashfully, “that you would care to meet me later at the Inn for a drink?”
“I...uh...will have to make sure my er...staff are fed.”
He seemed nonplussed by her odd remark. “Later then? I'd like to pick your brains some more about alchemy if I may.”
She flushed. “I'm not an expert, truly, I just know which books prove the most useful to those studying the subject.”
The man rolled his eyes. “You make flirting an incredibly difficult task, lady.”
Her blush deepened and she made great work of shuffling papers around on her desk. “Eight o clock all right with you then? Good.” He smiled and left without waiting for her reply.
*
As she locked up the library at the end of the day and bid farewell to her regulars, she found herself surrounded by two very tense Dremora.
“Well?” Kezutet demanded.
“'Well' what?”
“Do you intend to go out with that man?”
She bridled. “I hardly think it is any business of yours.”
“Your safety is our business.” He snarled. “Since you made it so.” |
cd016afa7f5247de83681c0a1169699c | ['82ab92eb511b414eb70b2cc5ce06369c'] | This was something they’d done since the first night. Jester hadn’t been able to see the stars very clearly from her mama’s house. There was so much light in the city and from the home itself she could mostly only see the moon when it was bright and high enough. But out in the wilds, once she realized that not only did Fjord know the constellations, but had names and stories for them, she’d pestered him almost every night for a story from the sky.
Inevitably she’d interrupt him half way through, sticking in plot points and characters the original tellings didn’t have, but more often than not he enjoyed her versions. They usually had more romance, more unicorns, but they were always, always happier.
Eventually they’d gotten to the point where he’d just point out a cluster of stars, tell her the name, and then let her go to town. He’d told her at one point she should write them down, maybe draw them out, but she’d waved away the suggestion telling him she was just having fun and why would anyone want to read her stories anyway?
Fjord shifted next to her, their shoulders nearly brushing, and pointed up to a host of stars off to their right, just barely visible over the tree line. “There, it’s seven stars, see the almost straight line? Four across?”
“Yes, I see them.”
“Then there’s one on top, one of bottom, and one kind of in front of the four?”
She was silent for a moment and he gave her the chance to see the image in her head, “What’s it supposed to be?”
“Crossbow,” he answered.
“I see it! What’s the name?”
“Holden’s Bolt.”
“That’s boring,” she scolded.
“I didn’t name it.”
“What’s the story?”
Fjord turned his head, surprised and unsettled by how close her face was to his. How did she always smell a little bit like cinnamon? “I thought that was your job,” and maybe his voice was a couple of octaves lower than it usually was, and maybe Vandran’s accent slipped a little and the Real Fjord shone through.
It was hard to hide himself around her.
“I’ve decided I want to know what the story was so I know how to make it better.”
“Whatever you say, Jellyfish.”
Her eyes narrowed briefly at the nickname which had slipped out of his mouth, natural as anything, and then her eyes widened with something akin to awe. The curve of her lips lifting so slowly it was like watching the moon rise of the ocean, and when she showed her teeth the stars came out.
He felt that smile somewhere near his soul which proved it was still, somehow, just a little bit his.
“Holden was a warrior,” Fjord recalled. “I don’t remember why, there was probably a great and terrible story as to why he became a fighter.”
Jester smiled, a little wry, “People who are perfectly happy and perfectly normal don’t fight dragons.”
Fjord laughed, “Fair point. So one of the gods, I don’t remember which one-“
“You don’t know much about this,” she pointed, sounding as if she was trying to hold back a laugh.
“The whole idea of this game is for you to tell the story, I specifically picked one I didn’t know much about.”
“Oh, well. That was very sweet of you, Fjord.” She scrunched her nose, her whole face shifting in thought. “Okay. It’s not Holden’s Bolt.”
“It’s not?”
“No, it’s Rosamund’s Revenge.”
Fjord smiled, already intrigued. “Do tell.”
Jester went on to create a wild story of a woman named Rosamund who, unsurprisingly, fell in love with a dashing half-orc named Ivan who was captured by a devilish witch. Determined to get her love back, she’d already bought the wedding dress Jester had explained, she taught herself how to fight and bought the best crossbow she could find and went out into the woods.
There was a range of obstacles for Rosamund to get through, and Nugget made a small cameo as a dog who led the way to the witch’s cottage. Inside was the body of Ivan, cold from death, and in fit of a rage Rosamund shot the bolt through the witch’s heart, but the witch was cruel and vengeful to last. Before she died, she cursed the heroine with eternal life so she’d have to live forever without her love.
After the witch had perished Rosamund ran to her beloved and cried over his dead body. A spell had been cast on Ivan so he didn’t wither away and Rosamund couldn’t imagine burying him, or leaving him, but she knew he wouldn’t have wanted to stay in the cottage forever, grieving him.
So she cried her tears, she mourned her loss, and then she took her crossbow to defend those who had no one to care for them. She had lost her heart, and vowed no one else would lose their while she lived.
And she was going to live forever.
It had been ten years of defending cities and towns from dragons and giants and evil and she was tired so she did what she always did when she needed a rest from the fight, she went back to the witch’s cottage which she now considered her own.
But this time, Ivan was not lying on the bed where he had rested since his death.
He was sitting on it.
Ivan lived!
Because Rosamund had love so purely and so courageously, because she had fought so hard for those in need the gods had rewarded her by bringing Ivan back to life with the promise that he would not die again until she did.
“So they’re immortal?” Fjord clarified when Jester paused in her story.
“Yes,” Jester nodded, turning on her side to face him. “But they got bored fighting, tired of always bleeding, and who wants to be angry for the rest of eternity? So Rosamund put her crossbow in the sky and they explored the world. Sometimes they’re farmers, sometimes sailors,” she poked him with her finger, waggling her eyebrows until he smiled. “They change it up every few decades, and every once in a while she’ll pull down her crossbow and use it again, but most of the time they just spend their time together, digging their toes into the sand and staring at the ocean. The witch had cursed her with eternity and Rosamund was glad for it.”
“Her revenge was a happy life,” Fjord realized, amazed at how she’d managed to do that.
“Isn’t it the best kind of revenge?” she asked genuinely.
“Yeah, Jester. I think it is.”
Her smile was soft and he tucked it away, catalogued with all the smiles he had carefully organized and labelled in the back of his mind, deep in his heart.
“We should probably go to bed.”
Fjord couldn’t argue, he was tired. “Yeah, let’s do it.”
He got up first, turning to hold his hand out to her which she accepted easily enough, but when they walked towards the hut she didn’t let go, and neither did he until they walked inside.
Turns out, they did do something Beau wouldn’t. | 63acdc2655af48e9be1bf887dce2f861 | ['82ab92eb511b414eb70b2cc5ce06369c'] | Jester watched as he looked at the bar, and she followed his gaze where Beau was completely caught up by the pretty woman. Fjord reached down and took her by the hand and led her through the college bar where people were playing pool, darts, and making out in dark corners.
“Are you kidnapping me?” she asked.
“And if I was?” he asked, the question thrown of his shoulder as he led her out the back where the patio was all but empty.
“It’s polite to ask permission first,” she said, and then couldn’t help herself by adding, “Or a safe word.”
He stumbled and she bit back a laugh. “You have a safe word?”
Jester stepped under the warm lights of patio sconces. It wasn’t fair that the shadows and light made him even more handsome. “Everyone should have a safe word,” she explained seriously. “Even for vanilla sex.”
Fjord stared at her for a solid three seconds. “You constantly surprise me.”
“Good.”
He dropped her hand and took a step back and she wished it had been the other way around. “I do like you Jester. A lot. I read the stuff you write, and it’s so entertaining and fun.”
“My peer reviews say I don’t take the assignments seriously enough.”
“Your peers are assholes,” he told her, leaning against the table behind him so they were closer to being at eye level. “And while they’re writing overly pompous shit that doesn’t actually mean anything, what you put to paper is from the heart, it’s got emotion, and that trumps everything else.”
“It does?” she asked and if he wasn’t going to make out with her than she was going to be incredibly disappointed and the next story she was going to write would involve him getting his dick eaten by a dragon. “Are you going to kiss me? Is that why you brought me out here?”
“I brought you out here because it was loud in there, and I wanted to talk to you like a normal person.”
“Oh.”
Fjord stood up and Jester watched with baited breath as he took a step towards her. “But I want to kiss you.”
“Wanting is different than doing,” she informed him.
“I’m aware. But I can’t.”
“Cause you’re my TA.”
“It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“I’m okay with that.”
He chuckled and brushed his thumb against her cheek like he couldn’t help himself. “Yeah, but I’m not. I got my job by the skin of my teeth, and I need it, and as much as I want to know what you taste like, I can’t take the risk.”
Jester’s heart cracked a little but she nodded, “I get that.”
“But the term is only three more weeks.”
Her eyes darted up to his, and her breath caught a little somewhere between her chest and her throat. “Nineteen days. Not that I’m counting.”
“So, if maybe you were free in twenty days?”
Jester pulled out her phone from her pocket and pulled up the calendar, quickly scrolling through the days. “It’s a Wednesday.”
“I know this theater downtown that plays old black and white movies on Wednesdays, if you wanted to go?”
“I would really like that, Fjord.”
“Okay,” he agreed and then swore sharply under his breath. “This is going to the longest nineteen days of my fucking life.”
Jester laughed and rolled onto the balls her feet so she could kiss him on the cheek, letting the touch linger for a moment longer than was appropriate. “It’s a date.”
Nineteen days later
Fjord was waiting outside the theater a few minutes before the movie was about to start, Jester had texted him saying she was running a little late but would be there soon.
It was stupid to be nervous, they’d talked every day since that night at the bar – Beau had been insufferable because of it, but he put up with her patting herself on the back because even if they hadn’t actually gone a date yet, Jester was still the best thing to ever happen to him.
She was fucking happy, and it was such a wild thing for him to realize that he didn’t know anyone else who could say that.
Throughout the past few weeks they’d constantly texted and she’d sent him pictures of her feet in the sand, of memes, and quotes, and puns. He told her about shit in his childhood and she freely offered to beat up his childhood nemesis.
It was dumb to think about love before even kissing her, but he couldn’t imagine feeling this way about anyone else.
And when she stepped out of her Uber wearing a sundress and leather jacket, he knew there was no turning back.
“You look amazing,” he told her and wished he could think of a better word than that.
“Thanks,” she said as she got closer and before he realized what she was doing she reached out to grab his coat, pulled him down to her level and kissed him.
It was like being struck by lightning and he held onto her, kissing her back and wrapping his arms around her waist.
It was thirty seconds before either them pulled away to catch their breaths.
“Sorry,” she apologized, and neither looked nor sounded like she meant it. “But that was the longest nineteen days of my life, and I really didn’t want to wait until the date was over.”
“No,” he stuttered, and wished he could get his shit together for once. “That was-Yeah. I’m with you there.”
“Are you ready for the movie?” she asked and he couldn’t believe she was still able to think.
“Give me a minute,” he answered and kissed her because he could and her lips were close it seemed a shame to waste the convenience.
He could feel the curve of that smile as he kissed her, her fingers going into his hair as his arms wrapped around her waist. “I could do this all night,” he told her honestly.
“We can do it all you want,” she promised with a grin, stepping out of his embrace. “After the movie. I should warn you, I talk a lot during movies.”
“Color me shocked,” Fjord remarked as he grabbed her hand. She squeezed it once as they continued walking towards the entrance.
“But I can be silenced for gummy worms.”
“Nah,” Fjord shook his head as he opened the door for her. “I want to hear what you have to say.”
“You know what? I think I might keep you around.”
“Thank God,” he said, and it may have sounded like a joke, but he meant every word. |
be202bcc1b874f889d7e8304456897a7 | ['82ba2af992964b18b3579988b982ea47'] | “I’m fine,” Leo had to fight to keep his voice even, for his most recent thoughts struck him hard with bewilderment. It’s like another person took over his mind and changed his judgement. Was that another person? Was it _**him**_ thinking like that, thinking that another man was _handsome and beautiful_? Was he losing his mind?
“You’re right, we need to get going,” the bundle of nerves spoke after shaking his head, shocked. Embarrassed. He tore the vinyl from the record player to stop the music and scurried his way out of the front door. All the latter man could do was follow, and he did. Their walking eventually led them to a garage of some sort where an old truck lay. A good resource for getting around quicker.
From that point, all Leo could spend his thoughts on was fixing the vehicle, for it needed gas, power, and a tire.
If only that was all he wasted his thoughts about.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> i sowwy for such a late update. :(( i went through a small period of writer's doubt wit this, so. but hey! 'least it's here now! hope you enjoyed! :DD
6. Chapter 6
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> For your greatly appreciated patience, you get a long chapter.
> Hope you like it! :D
Leo thought his life couldn’t get any worse.
Everything was going fine. They had just finished touching up the truck a bit and were ready to go, but then the husband came out of nowhere and started shooting at them. Leo didn’t know how the fuck, but the couple obviously managed to get out of their rope holds. Neither prisoner wanted a bullet lodged into them, so they scurried inside their truck, or Vincent did rather. Leo managed to get into the trunk quick enough before Vincent sent them zooming away from the farmhouse.
Things only got more difficult from there. Not only did the couple manage to escape, but they snitched too. Who else was responsible for the endless amount of feds chasing them down the highway?
It definitely was a frightening sight, Leo couldn’t lie, to see all the boundless cop cars hurling toward him, but perhaps his shock gave him an advantage: it granted him the ability to focus better on his task, which was to eliminate as many cops as possible to assure their getaway goes the way it’s supposed to.
Leo did just that, loading the shotgun he knew he’d need later, targeting mostly at tires and police heads. It worked effectively, and Leo was going to continue until the truck went spiraling off the highway and into an alcove. The poor truck’s tires were hit by spikes earlier on the road, unbeknownst to the pair.
The feds caught up with them above and opened fire. Leo and Vincent abandoned the damaged truck for another source to escape with: a rowboat. Didn’t look like it was going to get them far, Leo thought, but at least they’d be going somewhere. After giving the boat an exerted push, the pair hopped inside and were off within a few minutes of intense rowing.
The currents in the water as well as their paddles eventually led them to a boundless river, which was when Leo was starting to question where they were actually going. “Where does this river take us?”
“I have no idea,” Vincent answered truthfully. “But the further away, the better.”
Leo sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
So, they continued to paddle across the surprisingly placid water.
After a while, Leo notices, more than he liked, the growing speed of which their boat is floating in the water now, how many boulders are coming their way. The currents are also getting stronger but that’s okay, as long as Leo and Vincent kept working together to get through nature’s obstacles, it’d be a smooth ride.
But then everything went to shit. A huge dip further into the water sent them whizzing across the water, causing their boat to ram into every boulder that protruded from the raging river. The inmates tried to avoid as many faults in the long stretch as possible, but everything happened faster than Leo and Vincent could comprehend. Before the men knew it, their boat was practically impossible to use and guide. After ramming into enough rocks and skimming over enough debris, their boat became extremely unhinged.
They had no control over where their rowboat would take them, and as soon as it had a mind of its own, it began nose-diving straight for a waterfall.
Leo panicked, propelling himself from the boat and going head first onto land. He’s rattled for a bit and is about to rejoice, but he realized:
_Vincent’s still in the boat._
Now he’s back on his feet, and he swears his heart stops at watching from above the boat tumble and almost fall. Vincent’s dangling from the edge that’s probably fracturing beneath his grip, and Leo’s heart rackets in his rib-cage at the daunting realization that there’s a hell of a good chance the man won’t make it.
But Vincent can’t die. He just can’t. Leo scurries to his partner, jumping down a small ledge and spraining his ankle. It causes him to slip and fall from the shooting pain, but he lands just near the shoreline. He crawls toward the dangling boat and extends his hand as far as he could manage. He screams to Vincent to climb up the seats inside the boat, and he does after a few stumbles.
Then he’s there, within reach. Leo screams at him again: “ _Jump!_ ”
And as soon as he does, the boat's gone, fallen deep into the waterfall, and Vincent's safe in Leo's arms.
They tumble about in the damp dirt, hung tight to each other, until Leo's back slams against the gravel and Vincent's swung away from the abrupt force. He landed just to the right of Leo. | fdfa03fe0fe94138be20bfc154debdba | ['82ba2af992964b18b3579988b982ea47'] | Vincent closed his eyes. "We're putting ourselves in an impossible situation."
Leo frowned. "What?"
Vincent sighed, his voice a low rumble. "We can't do this, Leo. You know we can't— there's no point in denying it—"
"No, Vincent," Leo desperately cupped his lover's face. "Don't give up on me now, please." Drifting closer to Vincent’s mouth, he whispers against his lips, "Let me be with you."
But Vincent pulls away, removing the hands on his hollow cheeks and pinning them to his chest.
Leo lets out a shaky breath. "You don't want me, do you?"
"Of course I want you, Leo," Vincent says. "Everything in me wants you, but.. you know this isn't fair. It isn't fair to Carol, to Linda, to anyone."
Leo felt his heart withering at every word. He would've fought further for Vincent's affection, for him to stay— everything in him told him to, but he didn't. Vincent was right. They could never be together and Leo should've known that. They've made lives of themselves that they aren’t able to escape from.
It's agony having to accept that fact.
Vincent brought Leo's hand up to his lips, planting a long kiss on a knuckle. "I’m sorry," he whispered against skin. "I’m sorry.”
Leo felt a familiar sting in his eyes seeing his lover like that, head bowed against his hand, looking as guilty as he sounded. A weight lured its way onto Leo's chest.
It was the end of their story.
Leo let his head fall to meet Vincent's, bringing the couple close in their final moments.
He wanted to be held one last time.
\--
The next four days progressed like four years. Leo had been in terrible grief, of course behind closed doors and turned backs. He hadn't told Linda all the details of the outing, and whenever she questioned, he told her it was exactly as it was: an outing. Nothing more to it. Leo refused to crack about it, not only to maintain a little dignity, but for his family's sake. Alex was oblivious thankfully, and it was easy to forget it about Saturday's folly with the boy. Not so much with Linda; she knew him too well, but despite her persistent efforts to get her husband to open up, he shut down the inquiries fast. Leo was fine and that was the end of it.
It was overcast that Tuesday morning. The whole family was there for once, as Linda took a day off to get away from her gloomy jobs, even if it was just for a bit. She was tired, but nevertheless she got Alex and Leo up just in time for brunch. She made fried baloney and egg sandwiches. Everyone drank water with a few cubes in their cups.
Leo took one measly bite out of a corner, and left it alone afterward. His appetite was long gone.
The family continued to eat, small talk every now and then, until a knock came at the door.
Leo sits his glass down. "I'll get it."
"No, I'll get it," Linda stands from the table and walks out of the small dining room. She was gone for a few minutes before she came back, an envelope in hand.
"It's for you, baby," she says, dropping the envelope before Leo. He eyed it intently.
In its center, it had doctor-like handwriting that read, "To Leo."
Brow furrowed, he picked it up, tugging at the seams with his index finger. When he found it was ineffective, he started getting curious.
Feeling inside, Leo stood to fetch a knife, severing through the paper until he got inside.
The moment he peered in, his heart stopped.
Two thick wads of money and a letter.
"What is it?"
Leo looked up at Linda, his heart pounding in his ears. "Hang on, lemme—"
"Hang on." He scurried off, out of the dining room and into the master bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Instantly he reaches for the bed because his knees were starting to feel like water.
Holding the envelope in his calloused palms, he stares at it buck-eyed. Who the hell—?
But after a pause, he swallowed and tentatively took the creased letter out of the envelope. Unfolding the thin paper, he stood from the bed, pacing around the room as he read.
_It isn't much, but it's all I could manage to take out of my pension. I know you might not want this, but you must take it._
_Make a life of yourself. Invent a past. Give your family a better life because they're the ones that matter. I know this isn't what you wanted. I don't want it either. I'm paining even as I write this to you, but our families have more to lose than us._
_It'd make me very happy if I know you and your family are safe. Please live a good life for me, as I will try for you._
_Yours forever,_
_Vincent_
"Leo?"
Leo whipped around, hiding the letter behind him. He didn't even hear Linda open the door.
Worry plastered her face. "Are you okay?"
Leo opened his mouth to reassure, but unfortunately he didn't have it in him. Instead his eyes fell toward the open envelope on the foot of the bed.
Linda followed his gaze and immediately snatched it up. She peeks inside and, similar to Leo, her eyes buck wide and her jaw drops.
"Oh my god," she whispers. The money is ripped from the envelope and is held in her hands like it's new found gold. "Oh my god! Leo— this.. this is enough to get us out of here! Holy shit!"
Her hand clamps over her mouth. "Holy shit," she says. "Babe, w-where? Where did you get this from?"
"It's from Vincent," he says, drearily. "A goodbye gift, I guess."
Linda chortled. Still baffled, she cards a hand in her hair. "Holy shit," she whispers again.
Leo swallows a heavy lump, sitting down on the window sill. |
4f8aa2f2a0f04d58aaa9b12f50403f76 | ['82dcdf2473f14bb694d31c0e62bd6cf9'] | “You seem troubled, Courier.” Cursor Lucullus observed casually. He glanced back at the petite female sprawled along the back on the gondola shamelessly. She cracked open one emerald orb and regarded him lazily for a moment. “Nope, just tired is all.” She replied before closing her eye once more and letting her head rolling with the soft lolling of the boat. That uncomfortable tickle constricted her throat.
Lucullus hummed reflectively, pushing the boat further down the river. He was a quiet man. That particular breed of silence meant he was either deeply thoughtful, or awfully simple. The Courier wasn’t exactly sure which category he fell under. Squinting up at the sky, she watched wispy ribbons of clouds breeze by. It was so different from the large tufts of cotton that inhabited the skies of Zion.
Too soon, Lucullus tossed a rope around a barnacle covered piling, securing the gondola to the Fort’s dock. The Courier offered a brief thanks to the Cursor before gathering her pack and hopping onto the rickety wood of the dock's walking planks. The gate guards didn’t stop her as they usually did to confiscate her weapons. Their complacency was unusual, but the circumstances were as well.
The Fort was eerily silent.
Legionaries meticulously sharpened their weapons in relative quiet, conversing in murmurs. Not many turned to acknowledge her presence as she made her way to Caesar’s compound. Female slaves were mysteriously absent from making their treks up and down the hill to the upper tier of the camp, and the Courier could only guess why. It made her nose wrinkle in disgust. Legion soldiers outnumbered their female counterparts three to one. Those poor girls were going to be passed around like Med-X needles in Gomorrah.
The Courier kept her anger in check. Soon, she promised herself, things would change. Slaves would be divided into classes; the working class would be untouchable, dedicating their lives to a craft or service. The remaining pleasure class would be herded into designated brothels to live and work. Call girls could be found at Gomorrah if any Legionaries were so inclined.
“Well look what the fucking cat dragged in.”
She knew that voice. That angry, hurt, betrayed voice. The Courier turned slowly to face the blond man behind her.
“Arcade,” she rumbled stoically. The man pushed his glasses further up his nose. He was in relatively good shape. No cuts, bruises, or broken bones to speak of, but his cheeks were looking gaunt and his complexion pale. Hungry strike, most likely. Arcade was too valuable an asset to Caesar to be squandered among his officers. In their eyes, he was simply a living Autodoc.
“I’m surprised you didn’t track down Cass and Veronica. You know, invite them to the local festivities. Looks like Raul had the good sense to stay away too.”
“Raul is back at the 38, keeping the Strip secure.” Her eyes softened fractionally. “You know I wished you no harm. Part of the deal was Lucius looked after you appropriately.”
This only seemed to inflame the furious doctor further.
“Look after me? What right do you have to care about my well being? You _sold_ me as a _fucking slave_ –”
“–Arcade–”
“–to the cruelest man in the Wasteland. Was the reward worth it? Or–”
“– _Arcade_ –”
“–was helping your Lord and Savior Caesar enough to save your soul from all the damnable things you’ve–”
“– _Arcade!_ ”
The bespectacled scientist furrowed sparse brows. “ _What?_ ”
“You’re causing a scene.”
He followed the direction of her gaze to a rather tense looking pair Centurions who watched them with thinly veiled contempt. Obviously, not many were pleased with the fine treatment Caesar’s newest slave was garnering. Just enough insubordination on his part, and the officers would be well within their right to give Arcade a beating he wouldn’t forget… or worse.
Arcade clamped his mouth shut with an audible clack of teeth.
The Courier reached out and brushed his arm. Arcade flinched harder than she expected. Perhaps he wasn’t totally unscathed after all. “Caesar is expecting me. Come with?”
The former Follower of the Apocalypse sighed defeatedly. “Not like I have anywhere else to go,” he muttered sarcastically.
Slowly, the former companions made their way up the hill in uncomfortable silence. How badly the Courier wished things could be different, but everything she had done was of absolute necessity. The Autodoc was in shambles. Raul himself said it would take weeks for him to put it in working order, even if the Courier scrounged the spare parts needed for the repair. She didn’t have time to fly back out to Big Mountain and have the Think Tank explain how to perform brain surgery.
No, Caesar had days, a week at best, before the tumor would overtake him. The Courier was under pressure from all sides and she had to save him. Her luck may have maxed out a Vigor Tester, but there was no way in hell she would gamble that. Arcade was the only shot at saving Caesar. She lured him back to the Fort under some false pretense or another. Watched as Silus strode into the tent and forced Arcade to his knees. Watched as he snapped the collar around his neck, just the way he’d described to Lieutenant Boyd back at McCarran.
It was war, she reasoned with herself. She was logical to a fault.
“Courier,” the Praetorians standing sentry nodded her through, not even acknowledging the doctor at her side. Slaves weren’t to be regarded as equal status to Legionaries. It was amazing they even recognized her as a person. | 3b849128c34d45e59b1f561ac3d6f732 | ['82dcdf2473f14bb694d31c0e62bd6cf9'] |
Badlands
**Author's Note:**
> I feel like there's never enough background about James and Catherine.
_**2256** _
It’d been five years since he set off from the Commonwealth to pursue his research on what he now deemed Project Purity. Standing in front of the mirror wearing his formal Institute garb, James hardly recognized himself. The entire pristine white getup fit a tad more snug than he remembered, mostly due to the inordinate amounts of heavy lifting he’d been doing the past sixty-something months.
A sudden knock startled James out of his thoughts. Paladin Cross’ eyes crinkled in a soft smile as she peeked around the open door. “Your colleagues have arrived. Knight Colvin has led them to the Rotunda as per your instructions.” James waved his hand in dismissal. “I’ll be there in a moment.”
James leaned on the dresser and stared close up at his image on the grimy surface. There was the ghost of a crease between his brows, and deep circles carved under his eyes. The flesh of his cheeks had hollowed a bit which more clearly pronounced the definition of his cheekbones. Stubble dusted the slope of jaw. Losses considered, James was still an extremely attractive man and he knew it. He thrived on it.
Two women were inspecting the panels of the Purifier when he ascended the stairs of the Rotunda. Both were identical in height and dress. Even their hair was pulled into similar seamless chignons on the back of their heads.
“Welcome!” James clapped, startling the duo. “I see you’ve begun to acquaint yourselves with the equipment. Most of it I built myself, so I’m afraid it may take some time to familiarize— _Madison?"_
“Hello, James.”
For just a split second, James’ entire world went upside down and he was trapped in the midst of the wildest vertigo he’d ever experienced as Madison Li idly surveyed his creations. Flashes of genetically engineered wild flowers and memories of slick flesh sliding in tandem against his assaulted James’ senses. He’d never expected to see her again after ending things when he left the Institute.
“Excuse me,” James cleared his throat and smiled uncomfortably. “I wasn’t expecting you, Madison. A familiar face is a pleasant surprise here in the Wasteland.”
“Indeed.” Her gaze said otherwise. Madison angled towards the woman beside her. In his bewilderment, James had failed to note his ex-lover’s companion. His new colleague. Who was…
_Utterly gorgeous._
The scientist was a couple inches shorter than Madison and shared her Asian heritage. Her eyes were unusually tawny, framed by long sooty eyelashes sitting under delicately trimmed brows, set on an oval shaped face. Her bone structure and musculature was exquisite. James smirked crookedly as he sauntered up the last few steps of the Rotunda.
“I don’t believe we’ve met before. Madison, would you introduce us?”
“Of course,” she grit out between clenched teeth. Madison took a breath and schooled her expression into that infuriatingly familiar cool veneer.
“James, this is my sister, Catherine.”
* * *
_**2257** _
James’ lips worshiped the skin underneath them. Catherine moaned as he kissed a blazing trail across her stomach and up her sternum, pausing to lick a bead of sweat from the notch at the base of her throat. Her hands traveled from the tangled mess at his nape to fist the material of his lab coat. She giggled, and it was like a million bells tinkling in the Commonwealth breeze.
“This is why we’re not making any progress on Project Purity, James.”
“Finish installing the radiation filters later.”
His hands moved to cup her backside, grinding her against the control panel, letting the blunt edges cut into the smooth flesh of her back. He loved the way she became breathless when he touched her.
“What’ll we do if someone catches us?”
“Let them watch.”
* * *
_**2258** _
Rigor mortis stiffened Catherine’s fingers around James’ hand.
“Excella,” James words were muffled as he spoke into the fabric of Catherine’s gown. “That’s what I decided to name our daughter.”
White hot pain lanced through James’ chest, searing his blood with the intensity of unbridled emotion. If they’d taken more precautions, she’d still be alive. Perhaps if they’d gone scavenging for salvageable equipment in the downtown ruins, she’d still be alive. She would still be alive. What had gone wrong? Why? _Why why why_ —
A warm, living hand slapped him across the face with the force to send him sprawling on the dirty linoleum floor. His ears were ringing. From the force of the blow or the gravity of the situation, he couldn’t say. Pathetic, infantile wailing cut through the fog in his mind and brought James screeching to a halt in reality. Reality.
“James,” Madison’s voice was shaking. “It’s been two days. She’s not coming back.”
“Don’t talk about her like that,” he bit out as he picked himself up off the ground.
“She’s dead!” Madison screamed at the top of her lungs. James recoiled as he truly saw his friend for the first time since the delivery. It was apparent she hadn’t slept a wink either. Purple smudges marred her eyes and dried tear tracks stained her cheeks. In her arms there was a tiny bundle of fabric. Her niece.
James was on autopilot as he staggered around the operating table and reached for his child. Madison was wary at first, but handed her over with little resistance. Any attempts would be futile at this point. His body trembled when he curled her into his arms. “Excella,” he murmured to his daughter. Madison choked back a sob. James shifted her weight— seven pounds, two ounces —into his dominant left arm and extended the right out, draping it around Madison’s shoulder and pulling her close.
For now, he could indulge her one last time.
Because tomorrow, James and Excella would be long gone.
**Author's Note:**
> The middle snippet is a nod to the Project Purity journal "Better Days" in which Catherine just really wants to install some radiation filters and James just really wants to procreate. |
37b788ac3f784980b9e2007a837caa05 | ['82eeaf26452043748cc8ca037a02b6a3'] | Laundry
**Author's Note:**
> okay so I wrote this back in like early January or smthn and it kinda sucks but it was my first time actually writing a fic but I still felt like I should put it out there y'know
Mikey was walking up the stairs with a full basket of laundry, and when he got up to his room, he dumped the clean clothes onto his bed so he could fold them. While folding the clothes, Mikey came across a somewhat familiar article of clothing. A hoodie. But not just any old hoodie, a hoodie that belong to Pete Wentz.
"How the hell did that get there?" Mikey thought aloud.
Memories of Pete and himself began to overcome Mikey as he held the fabric in his hands. He then proceeded to hug the hoodie. It was warm from the dryer, but it was artificial warmth. It just wasn't the same as Pete's natural warmth that Mikey now longed for and missed.
He began to softly sob into hoodie in his arms. He missed Pete, he missed everything about him: his eyes, his smile, the sound of his voice, the way that he was a few inches shorter than himself so he'd end up falling asleep on his shoulder, everything. Mikey thought about calling Pete to tell him how he felt.
"He's probably moved on by now, I should do so as well" Mikey figured.
But he couldn't. He didn't think he'd ever get over Pete, at least not any time soon. He resorted to putting on Pete's hoodie because that's the closest he'd ever get to being with him again.
**Author's Note:**
> also I felt like I should add that there was also gonna be like a second part type thing but I never got around to writing it bc it actually had dialogue n writing dialogue is a pain in the ass (but if I ever do write it I'll probs put it here or smthn) | 234f7bb1b9b742299eb448ae6be289b5 | ['82eeaf26452043748cc8ca037a02b6a3'] | picking up the pieces of the wreck you went and left
**Author's Note:**
> the title is from the song rewind by paolo nutini (which inspired me to write this Sad Gay Trash in the first place and helped me write most of it)
>
> dedicated to the william beckett chat on kik bc if it wasn't for them i probably wouldn't have ever written this lmao
>
> anyways! enjoy my sad gay shitty writing
to say that nate missed alex would be an understatement. it was as if alex took part of his heart with him when he left cobra. he might as well have though, nate hadn't been the same since he left and the rest of the band could tell he wasn't himself anymore. he was hoping they could still be together despite alex leaving the band, but the older one decided it'd be better if they broke things off.
nate has tried nearly every single night to drown the memories of himself and his once significant other in alcohol. but alas, no amount of beer, wine, vodka, no amount of anything would ever be able to erase the memory of alex suarez from his head, not even for a second. the only times he ever really got any form of rest whatsoever anymore was when he'd occasionally pass out from drinking to forget aforementioned memories.
fuck, he couldn't even think about him without wanting to throw up, or, on some occasions, actually throwing up. nate just wanted his boyfriend (well, ex boyfriend) back, more than anything. he felt almost selfish for thinking that, alex was probably happy with life and being able to do his own thing. he shouldn't have to drop it all just because his ex is sad and lonely.
god, nate missed everything about alex: his glasses, his hair, how he would sometimes cook things for him, the way that he was significantly taller than him so that he could rest head on his shoulder if he got tired, how he never seemed to mind him doing that, the list goes on.
again, to say that nate missed alex would be an understatement.
**Author's Note:**
> i like never write shit so please don't hurt me i'm just a wee bab and i wrote like almost all of this today so
>
> also follow me on twitter (hjsgirlfriday) bc i'm a gay fuck that constantly craves attention |
4ef952057a8d473187d34f093856fbdf | ['8322cce257cf4a49b608335794214e8c'] | "Any normal person would think that yes, however, this family is far from normal... hm, If you take away the pain I get every time I move my jaw, I am actually okay I guess- Wait, I am assuming you didn't just come here to talk, was there another reason?" I ask growing curious.
"I will go and grab you some pain killers in a minute, and yes, I completely forgot, when I saw your beautiful face like that I wanted to know you were alright... I originally came to tell you that Lillian has planned for you to go ring shopping with Kara on Thursday. Apparently she is going on a business trip later tonight and will be back Thursday Night in time for the wedding Friday. You will also need to go and see her as soon as you can"
"Huh, bit of a pointless business trip if it's only for two days and I guess I better go and find her then, wouldn't want to keep the devil waiting," I say and then stand up to go to Lillian's study. When she isn't in the kitchen she is usually in her study.
It only took me about a minute or two to get to Lillian's study (it is on the opposite side of the Luthor mansion to my bedroom, so its a bit of a trek... Just joking, I'm just lazy), I tap on the door three times and then wait for her response which I get almost instantly. I open the door and then close it behind me and turn back to face Lillian. She takes one look at me and just smirks, seemingly proud of the damage she caused to my face.
"Thank you for coming so quickly, I am glad you remembered I don't like to wait around. I am assuming your maid told you about ring shopping Thursday?" Lillian says ina smug tone. I just nod, she is not worth the pain moving my jaw would cause.
"Good, so I asked you here because I wanted to give you your bank card, I would have given it to your maid but I trust her less than I trust you and mine are busy. You will be paying for Kara's ring out of your own money, I do not have the time to go shopping for rings, nor do I want to waste my money on something that is insignificant to me. You have $20,059, that should be enough to get a cheap ring"
"What happened to the other $29,941 I had on there?" I ask a little pissed off that some of my money was missing.
I'm not really that bothered though because what Lillian doesn't know is that I have a lot more than $20,059 on my card. To make things clearer, my father knows Lillian would create an unnecessary fuss if Lex and I had the same amount of money in my account as Lex, I am just a bastard, _"I don't deserve the same amount of money in my trust fund as Lex"_. So to save face, my father had my account modified, basically It has two passwords, the password Lillian knows only shows a maximum of $50,000, however if you put in my password it will show a balance of about $838,954 (that is just a rough estimate, but it was somewhere close to that last time I looked. So basically, Lex and I had pretty much the same amount in our accounts just Lillian doesn't know about it. Also, when I use my password, none of the transactions are tracked so if I was to buy something and didn't want Lillian to know about it (which is the whole point of me having a seperate password) it won't show on the bank statements so she would never know any different.
"Oh, you paid for your fathers funeral, did I not tell you that? ...Oops" Lillian says feigning shock. I just glare at her, although I am actually happy that I paid for his funeral, at least it was worth the money, even though I didn't even know he had already had his funeral, that was a shitty thing to not tell me. I guess the main thing is that I got to say good bye before he was taken.
Lillian reaches into one of the drawers on her desk and pulls out a small rectangle and holds it out to me. I take it and slip it into my trouser pocket until I can put it into my purse.
"Whilst I am away, I want you to behave for the guards, and make sure that you are home by 6pm latest, and if they ask about the state of your face, you walked into a door or fell on your face. Make sure to take your Fiancee to lunch, It will make you look good and like you actually care"
"I don't care though..."
"Maybe not, but I want you out of my house and as far away from me as possible so you better act like you care about this girl or I will see to it that the right side of your face matches the left. Oh and by 'act like you care' I mean you do whatever you need to do to keep her happy. For example, if she for whatever reason kisses you, I expect you to kiss her back, do you understand? You will not ruin this Lena."
"You are crazy! I'll take her for dinner and keep her happy but I am not kissing her. That's too much Lillian..." I almost yell. _Man if looks could kill I would be dead right now..._ | d7252357891041179be929261b076441 | ['8322cce257cf4a49b608335794214e8c'] | "So where to?" I ask my adoptive mum.
"There's a Pizza Hut up the road, that's where we are headed"
"Yess! Stuffed crust" I say cheerfully. Lena giggles which makes me smile even more.
Then before we started walking Lena gently linked her fingers with mine and my heart swelled, my stomach filled with butterflies and I declared this the best day of my life... So far.
I know we're already getting married, like literally tomorrow but should I ask her to be my girlfriend? Or is she kind of already my girlfriend due to us getting married? Oh man, that's confusing.
"What's got you thinking so hard? I can see the cogs turning in your head" Lena says teasingly.
"Uh- um. It's kind of embarrassing..."
"You can tell me anything, you know that" She says whilst moving closer to me to let a person walking the opposite way to us through.
"Right, I do know t-that, it's just er, well I know we are g-getting married tomorrow but I was thinking, like does that make y-you my g-girlfriend or like should I ask you, I-I don't know. I-its really confusing me. Oh rao, we just- and I didn't, I don't even-" I start rambling but Lena puts a finger on my lips to stop me. Dang it! I thought I grew out of my nervous ramblings.
"Do you want me to be your girlfriend... a day before our wedding?" She says with a giggle you can tell she was trying to hold back.
"D-do you want to be my girlfriend?" I ask nervously.
Lena laughs again but smiles after "I would love to be your girlfriend Kara"
"Great!" I squeal but immediately recompose my self "I-I mean great" I say with an embarrassed smile.
"You are adorable" Lena says pressing a kiss to my cheek.
**Lena's pov:**
We arrive at Pizza Hut and spot Alex and Maggie sitting at a booth in the corner.
"Alex! Maggie!" Kara squeals excitedly. She hugged the both of them but didn't let go of my hand once. When she takes her seat, she pats the spot next to her so I sit where she wants me to.
"Maggie this is Lena, Lena this is Maggie" Eliza politely introduces us.
"Hey, it's nice to finally meet you Little Luthor, I've heard a lot about you from Kara and Alex" Maggie says with a smile, showing off some cute dimples. Maggie has long brown hair, tanned skin, dimples as mentioned before and chocolate brown eyes. She's pretty, I'll give her that.
I raise an eyebrow at the nick name though and she blushes slightly "Little Luthor? And it is a pleasure to meet you too Maggie"
Alex shoots Maggie a _'Really?'_ look and she clears her throat "Yeah, I have a thing for nicknames, Kara is Little Danvers, Alex is Lexi or if I want to annoy her Al or Alexandra _that one really works"_ she says but whispers the last bit.
I nod, noticing Alex looking a little frustrated with her girlfriend.
"Alex, it's nice to see you again" I say with a smile.
"Surprisingly it is nice to see you too Lena... Nice face by the way, looks like it's been improved" she says with a teasing smirk.
"Ah yes, thank you. I'm sure my mother would agree" I say with a small laugh in return but Alex's face drops to one I never thought I'd see from her aimed at me, sympathy.
"Right... Well, I'm going to go order some food, anyone coming?" Maggie asks.
"Ooh me, I'll come with you" Kara says, Eliza also goes with them leaving Alex and I looking at the menus.
"So..." Alex says awkwardly.
"So..."
"Did you have fun ring shopping?"
"Actually I did. Speaking of which, I just thought of something... Can I ask you a favour?"
Alex looks at me sceptically "Depends on what you want..."
"Nothing like that-" I look over to see where Kara is and luckily she's still waiting in line. I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out the ring box and hand it to Alex "I wanted to ask you to look after that for me. Kara doesn't know about it so please don't tell her. I want to surprise her once my mother is put of the way"
Alex opens the box and gasps "Holy shit. How much did this thing cost?"
"Not half as much as your sister deserves but it is all I could give her"
Alex pulls a small piece of paper out of the box - _the receipt -_ and goes pale as a ghost, "Are you kidding me? I could live my whole life on that!"
"Well I could have just left it in my account that I will never see again once I marry Kara or I could do something useful with it like give it to your sister. It's not like I need it, and if she doesn't like the ring then she can sell it" I say.
"Its Kara, Lena. She will love it, just make sure she's sitting down when she finds out how much it cost" Alex says with a nervous chuckle.
"I don't plan on telling her, if she finds out I'm not sure she would be best pleased... Anyway, will you look after it for me? Just until the wedding ceremony is over"
"I'm not sure I trust myself but it means a lot that you trust me with this. You're alright _Little Luthor"_ Alex says with a smirk whilst closing and putting away the ring box.
"Thank you Alex"
"Hey guys, are you coming to get food?" Kara asks from out of nowhere.
"Jesus Christ Kara!" Alex and I say in unison.
"What?" Kara asks sounding confused.
"You made us jump, but yes we'll come get some food" Alex says with a chuckle to release any left over tension from Kara's sneaky appearance. |
c2aeb6d1dd3f454080daa8e0860a6e2b | ['8344cec21b9c40bda3d7c33d1d2dcd0e'] |
Asymmetry
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So I have no idea if I'm going to continue this. I just wanted to try something new since I love thrillers and I love Euphoria. I also wanted to see a bond between Lexi and Rue that wasn't them falling for each other lol, so consider this akin to a test run or something. Let me know what you think!
Rue and Lexi can't understand what they're looking at.
There's a dead woman who's sitting upright on their couch in their living room. Her head is tilted against the wall and her hands are placed politely in her lap. Her legs are crossed as if she were attending a business dinner. Her head is adorned with stringy red hair and since most of her body is exposed by her lacy black lingerie, Rue can see there are monochromatic tattoos sketched into her creamy skin. It's clear that she had been an attractive woman.
The body is clearly fresh. There's hardly a smell and the bloating process hasn't started yet. If it weren't for the crude marks around her neck, the girls would've thought a random woman decided to break into their house and fall asleep in an odd location and position.
Though she can't process her thoughts that are moving a mile per second, Rue is the first to speak. All she can mutter is, "Do you know her?"
Lexi is visibly distressed. Her mouth is agape and her face is devoid of the pale pink color it usually holds. "No, I don't fucking know her."
Rue definitely doesn't know her, either. Admittedly, her memory is comparable to that of a senior citizen, but she's sure that if she met someone who looked like the woman on the couch, they wouldn't leave her mind so easily. Out of all of the female encounters Rue has had, it's clear that this mysterious woman was in a league far above any of them.
Another thing Rue knows for sure is that neither she or Lexi are responsible for the woman's death. The woman's throat is visibly crushed, showing that she was most likely strangled to death. Lexi's hands are too small and Rue's are too bony to do such a thing.
So the possibility of one of the girls murdering a stranger while sleepwalking is ruled out. Now the question that remains is...
"How did she get into our house?" Rue doesn't know why she thinks Lexi will have any answers, but that doesn't stop her from asking.
Lexi rakes her fingers through her loose curls. "I have no idea. I checked the alarm system and all of the locks and everything looks fine."
"How do you know someone didn't turn off the system before they came in?" Rue begins moving towards the kitchen to look at the said system for herself. Truthfully, she doesn't know what she's looking for. What does an alarm system even look like when a stranger turns it off and back on again?
"No one knows our passcode except Cassie and we both know she wouldn't do something like this."
Rue decides to check the activity of the alarm from the security app on her phone. Armed at 10PM last night, right before both girls went to bed. Status hasn't changed since then.
"Okay," Rue locks her phone and heads back to the living room. "Alarm has been locked since we set it, so if they didn't get in that way then we should probably check the locks again. There could be something we're just not seeing."
Lexi is still pale with fear, so she wastes no time with deciding she'll be the one to recheck all of the doors and windows. She hurries away from the body and out of the room. The sound of her footsteps quickly fades as she moves down the hallway.
Rue is uncomfortable. She knows no one is the room with her now, but she can't help but feel as if someone—possibly the person who choked the woman—has their eyes on her back. She frequently looks over her shoulder. She sees nothing besides the furniture that's supposed to be there, but she doesn't feel any safer.
With nothing else to do, Rue decides to inspect the corpse. She moves a few steps closer, almost close enough to reach out and touch her (and she kind of wants to in a slightly morbid way), and from her new angle the marks on the woman's crushed neck are even uglier. Black and blue, large handprints embedded in her skin. Leaning in even more, Rue sees thumb indentations on the underside of the ginger's chin. She smirks with satisfaction. This means the killer's DNA is surely on the body. This is good news! If she or Lexi were to call the police, they would immediately be under suspicion. Rue has watched enough true crime documentaries to know how easy it is to be convicted for a crime just from a single strand of hair left on a crime scene, so there is no doubt in her mind that these marks are enough to prove that she and Lexi are innocent.
Rue then starts to think about how she's leaning over this woman. She doesn't like how her hair is hanging dangerously close to the corpse's arm. She wonders if a strand of her own hair as already contaminated the woman. Did she just ruin her own innocence? The thought of being potentially guilty by default sends Rue flying back until she bumps into the coffee table. The table skids backwards and she lands on her ass.
Lexi comes running back into the room. She sees Rue on the ground. "What just happened?"
Not wanting to admit what she was really doing, Rue answers with, "Nothing, I'm just a clumsy fuck. How are the locks?" | 5b5f05123260438892bdec63affc5a0d | ['8344cec21b9c40bda3d7c33d1d2dcd0e'] | Lexi folds her arms with a heavy sigh. "Didn't go through all of them yet but like I said earlier, everything looks fine. You can't even open anything from the outside and nothing looks broken so I don't even see how-"
"The fuck is this doing here?" Rue is on her stomach now, and right where the coffee table would be if she hadn't pushed it lays a red backpack. She turns to Lexi. "Is this yours?"
Lexi looks frightened again. "No," she answers quietly. "I've never seen that before. You?"
"Nope." Rue reaches out to touch it, but Lexi's sudden yelp makes her retreat her arm back to her body. "Don't touch that! What if it belongs to the dead girl?"
This makes Rue get back on her feet. She presses her fingers on her temples. None of this is making sense.
"Rue, let's just call the police-"
"Are you kidding me?" Rue is pacing the room now, occasionally taking a peek at the woman's corpse each time she turns. "Do you know how suspicious all of this looks? How are we going to explain that the someone came in and put the dead body of someone we don't even know _and_ her bag right here in our house even though there's no sign of break in?"
Lexi points to the woman's neck. "Look at her neck. There have to be fingerprints there. Fingerprints that aren't ours. We're not guilty and they'll see that."
"What if our DNA is everywhere just from us being in this room?"
Lexi sighs and leans against the doorway. "You've been watching too many true crime shows, Rue."
"Maybe," Rue admits. "But I'm just trying to be safe here. I don't think we should call the police until we have an explanation that actually sounds believable."
"Okay, okay, fine." Lexi throws her hands up in defeat. "I won't call the police yet."
Silence then falls between the two of them. With nothing left to say, Lexi goes back to rechecking the locks, leaving Rue to stand alone in the middle of the living room again.
Rue is looking up at the ceiling in deep thought. She has no idea what to make of this situation. She almost wants to try to squeeze her eyes shut and will all of this away, but if there's anything she's learned from her youth, it's that fucked up situations like this never go away on their own. But she's also gotten out of all of those fucked up situations, so why is she afraid she won't get out of this one?
Okay, Rue. Think. What are some possible reasons why a nightmare like this could be taking place right now?
"Shit, Lex!" Rue's voice echoes through the house.
"What?" Lexi calls back. It sounds like she's upstairs.
"Do you know anyone who might like...not like you?"
Rue hears Lexi scoff. "You know neither of us know anyone."
"I'm being serious, Howard." Rue's tone is stern, and she chewing at the fingernail of her thumb. "What about someone from your job? Is there anyone who might not like you?"
"Are you suggesting someone might have set this up to frame me or something?" Lexi's voice bounces around as she audibly moves from room to room. "Because I think that's a far-fetched idea."
"Just answer the question!"
"Okay, well." Lexi pauses, and her movements seemingly do, too. "There is, uh, Jules."
"WHAT?"
Lexi comes rushing back downstairs and into the living room.
"Like, Jules from high school or?"
Lexi simply nods. She looks guilty and Rue doesn't know what's more surprising, the fact that Lexi never bothered to mention that works with Jules before now, or the fact that Jules settled for a 9-5 office job. Both are outlandish concepts.
Whatever, the mystery of this dead woman in their home is too important for Rue to start asking trivial questions. "How much does she not like you?"
Lexi leans against the wall. "It's nothing major," she explains. "She usually just gives me dirty looks and flicks my head whenever she passes my desk."
"Okay, what?" Rue struggles to hold back a laugh. "She _flicks _your head?"
Lexi nods. Her grave expression says she's not fucking around. Rue no longer wants to laugh anymore once she sees this.
"But let's say even if Jules was trying to frame me...or us," Lexi speaks. "How would she even know where we live?"
Shit.
Rue shrugs. She continues to mull over the thought before finally admitting that she doesn't really know. "Let's just keep the fact that she doesn't like you in mind. Has anything big happened at work recently?"
"She got fired on Friday. I wasn't the cause for her getting fired, though. I don't even know what she got fired for. And on the off chance that she did want to retaliate against me for getting fired, how could she have planned this out in only two days? It's Sunday, you know."
So there's a corpse of an unknown (seemingly beautiful) woman sitting on their living room couch. There's no signs of a break in and no clues have been left besides the body and her bag. She was clearly strangled to death by someone with very large hands, presumably a male, and neither Rue or Lexi are men. Both girls were sleeping when the murderer must have dumped the body at their place. The only logical theory is this crime must have been staged by a co-worker, Jules, who dislikes Lexi and just so happens to be Rue's ex. Jules getting fired could have been the catalyst for this horrific event. However, Jules was fired on Friday and this is taking place on a Sunday, so either Jules is a very fast planner when it comes to extreme things like this, or Jules has nothing to do with this.
Sometimes Rue wishes Lexi wasn't so logical. With all of this knowledge, all she can say is, "Well, fuck!"
"I'm telling you, Rue, I don't think we're going to figure out who did this unless we call the cops and have them inspect-"
"We are not calling the cops."
"Then what the fuck are we gonna do? Let the body just sit here and rot in our house?"
Rue can't think of an answer. Clearly she doesn't want to keep the body here, but she doesn't want authorities to get involved either. Both luckily and unluckily, Rue doesn't have to answer because there's suddenly knocking coming from the back door. |
1e458de907d84039ab60a2e9a5ff3659 | ['8349e63aa1884622bbaf4e71e1875ca1'] | Jungkook gagged scrunching his face as the two elders looked to the boy. "What? I don't wanna hear about.. old grody sex..." Rolling his blue eyes Jin turned back to the boys. "Anyways, the next day Medusa had gone to Athena to tell her that she didn't want to be a disciple... however..." looking at namjoon he stood grabbing the ring.
"She was having none of it. I couldn't save medusa... Im forbidden to enter another's temple, and She knew that. She ruined medusa... i could hear the screams, the agonizing yells for help...." he clenched his hand around the ring.
"....... my mother...."
"Was angry and took her rage out on a mortal rather then fighting me." Jin finished the younger's sentence as he looked back. Jungkook had snaked his hand into the others, as namjoon squeezed. His mother wasnt a... monster. There must have been a reason right? He looked to jungkook who's jaw was clenched. "S-so... how does that make Tae... that kid your you know?" The brunette asked curiously as Jin sighed once more.
"When medusa was being hunted by one of those... demigods... perseus to be exact, she asked me to take the baby... protect my child... i did what i could- i couldn't raise the baby it would have caused a war.." The three soon fell silent before Jungkook spoke quietly.
"You gave The kid to another to raise.."
"Yes, i gave the child to a family who had lost their their child during a still born birth. The child was... she was amazing. Smart, fast, caring..." he smiled looking to his hands. "That is until Athena Found her." Namjoon looked to The ring on the table as he swallowed, his head swimming.
"Around Fourteen my daughter began to have.. behavioral issues, and it Increased from there. She was offered as a disciple to Athena, and thats when-"
"My mother realized Medusa had an offspring." Namjoon spoke with certainty as the others looked to him. The purple haired male closed his mouth as he shook his head. "This is so... fucked up..." he laughed before rubbing his face.
"My daughter had a baby, before Athena slaughtered her. And so forth.. i hid them all.. i gave Them all direction on where they would be safe, but Athena is persistent. If you two are destined to help end this.. cycle of Her wrath, then please.. help me. Taehyung is innocent, he was born into this messed up world." He paused Before looking to jungkook.
"I'll protect him." He offered before standing. Namjoon looked to the younger who nodded to the god in acceptance. "I don't really... know how, but Ill protect Him the best A Demigod can. My father never taught me to back down from anything, and This isn't any different." He Smiled before looking to Namjoon. Jin stood, as the god bowed to the boy before mumbling a thank you.
"I-I... Athena is my fucking mother-"
The doors Burst open before namjoon had a chance to Finish, as Jimin looked to the three panting.
"H-He's awake!"
•
His body was warm, as he turned around. The field was covered in flowers; ranging from Sunflowers to dandelions.
"Taetae~" he Giggled before turning his head. A short women swooped him up and spun the younger before his own laughs drowned hers out.
"Eomma!! This is Tag Silly Not Rocket ship!" He exclaimed, as his mother set him down before laying down. The young boy smiled gently before following his mothers lead. She waved the younger into her arms as He quietly rolled to them. Hugging the small boy she smiled gently again.
"Eomma, can you tell me the story Again?"
"Taehyung you don't Want to hear a new one?"
"No way!! I wanna hear about how Pe.. per- Steph-on-eh makes the flowers Pretty!" She giggled before pushing his Caramel colored hair from his eyes.
"Alright but just one more time... during the winter and fall, when Persephone is Visiting the Spirits below the earth.."
"Shes with The Meanie Head!! Hates!!"
"You mustn't say his name Tae. Thats very bad luck.." the small boy pouted before she booped his nose. "Demeter, persephone's eomma makes all the flowers bloom.. the skies clear into the prettiest baby blue, with fluffy clouds... she makes the water sparkle, the world warmth with her love.. and she waits. She waits for persephone to return from her visit.." taehyung stood as he smiled before putting his hands to his lips. He Moved them, making kissy noises to the sky. "Thank thank thank you Dem-ter for making spring so so sooo Pretty!!!" He exclaimed to the sky before he turned to look at his mother once more. However, she was gone. His smile faded before he looked around, the sinking feeling of fear settling into his stomach.
"E-eomma?" He called, before he felt the warm begin to disappear, he looked up as the sun was covered with angry black clouds. Looking down to the flower field, everything in it was dead. The beautiful yellow flowers, wilted smashing as the wind blew. He whimpered gently before yelling for his mother once more. He turned again before he began to run, screaming for his mother again and again. A bad feeling was beginning to wash over him as He hear a distinct Gurgling behind him. He stopped slowly, his heart racing before he slowly began to Turn. The gurgling was louder, scratching sounds coming from the floor as hot tears formed in his eyes.
"E-eomma...?" He questioned before turning fully. His mouth dropped in horror, no sound leaving his mouth as his mother dangled from a rope inside their kitchen. The kitchen they made car shaped sandwiches, the kitchen he helped make dinner, the kitchen he drew and hung the picture up on the way. She moved; twitching as she gurgled her eyes set on taehyung, her nails scratching into the wall before she stopped. | 4510fc800dee4f96b722e3d40db8ff84 | ['8349e63aa1884622bbaf4e71e1875ca1'] | "Follow me please, we have much to talk about.. jimin? Please stay with Taehyung so when he wakes he isn't frightened."
"Why should we follow you?" The God stopped, turning to look at Namjoon who spoke Up.
"Because you have no other choice. Either you come with me, or you drown 35 thousand Feet under water." He nodded before waving the two to follow. Jungkook let out a shaky breath.
"Joon i cant swim-"
"I know Jungkook its okay. Ill protect you..."
"I don't want to go with him... i-i want to get back on the train and Finish my parfait and make fun of you sleeping-"
"This is our only choice Jungkook.. we can't kill a god. They're immortal for one, and For two if we do what he says..." he tugged the younger, the two beginning to follow after him. "... maybe the prophecy will change."
The hall was long, the walk was tense and the two demigods were on edge. When Poseidon stopped, the two kept a good distance between the other. "Please, come in. Don't worry Namjoon, Jungkook.. It seems Delphi has given You two a complicated task.. and I want to hear about it."
•
Jimin sighed gently, as he watched the others go down the other hallway. Jin's domain wasn't like... his. He shivered gently at the thought of that horrid place. He looked to the hall Theo had taken Taehyung down before biting his lip and following. The golden walls, the door ways that were decorated with gems and shells. It was beautiful- the flowers to the barnacles.. he Smiled gently as he bit his lip. Taehyung had no idea what was happening, his own blood line was the reason for this.. he stopped looking to a door, Theo had exited from. The god smiled gently to the Cyclops bowing slightly as Theo nodded. "He seems restless, i tried to keep him comfortable. " and with that Theo was gone. Standing outside the boys door, jimin opened it slowly hoping to not wake him. Looking into the room, he spotted tahyung Laying on the Bed- sleeping soundlessly.
Sighing gently, he closed the door; moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Fate had royally screwed this poor boy.. he looked to taehyung's features as he watched the younger sleep. Jimin felt a responsibility to the boy... like he should be protecting him with his life... his being. Reaching his hand to the boys head, he gently pushed hair from the others eyes. ".... you shouldn't of left your home Tae...." he mumbled softly before laying at the bottom of the mattress. He would help him.. no matter what.
•
"... the prophecy wasn't through with our information... all we Know is that from lament terms at least.." namjoon spoke as he furrowed his brow Jungkook watching curiously as Jin nodded.
"Our mission is to protect the ancestor of Medusa from... mom." He paused before swallowing. "Taehyung is Very important.. we are supposed to take Him to Train.. but there isnt a training ground we need to take him too or anything."
"Thats because your mission is the training." Namjoon looked to Jin who nodded.
"He is the Ancestor of medusa.. and The fates have decided he isn't like The first gorgon. Taehyung cant turn anyone to stone obviously- otherwise we would have all died right?" The two demigods nodded as jin continued. "Taehyung may not even have an ability.. but he needs to be able to protect himself.."
"The oracle said she needs to see Him." The younger blurted as Namjoon looked to Jungkook who looked at his lap.
"What?"
"The oracle.. she uh.. said Taehyung needs to Be seen, theres another piece."
"And your telling me this now?!"
"Well it wasn't a conversation starter! What am i supposed to be like 'morning hyung by the way the monster we find the oracle wants to be buddy buddy'!?"
"Boys.."
"Sometimes i wanna leave you in the woods to die I swear to gods-"
"BOYS." The two looked back to Jin who sighed gently. "Anyways... i made a promise to medusa..." Namjoon tilted his head as Jungkook looked at him awkwardly
"But... "
"In the stories it said you were the reason Medusa was.. medusa."
"You raped her." Namjoon finished as Jin looked to the younger before laughing tiredly.
"Raped her? Wow... Athena, you've out done yourself with the gossip i see.." he shook his head before standing and heading to what looked to be a desk.
"What do you mean...?"
"I never raped medusa..." returning he sat down in his chair, setting a ring on the table.
"Medusa was my Wife."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Dun dun dunnnnn ㅇㅅㅇ
> Muwahahahah anyways huhu
> Please comment Below, im looking for Someone who would like to beta...? Maybe...
6. • Chapter Five •
Two pairs of eyes stared at the god, one pair was wider then two bowls as the other was cold & unbelieving.
"Thats..." jungkook stopped as he looked to his lap.
"Thats impossible. You raped medusa in the temple of my mother." Namjoon glared, jungkook squeezing his thigh gently as Jin sighed before shaking his head.
"Namjoon, medusa was leaving the temple. She didn't want to be a part of your mothers scheme." He spoke gently as the purple haired male took a deep breath.
"Scheme!? There was no scheme. You openly Harmed a mere human and caused her to be turned into a monster-"
"Taehyung is my great great great greeeeaat grandson." Again the room was silent as Jin looked at Namjoon. His eyes held certainty that had Namjoon wavering. Was his mother... lying?
"Medusa and I met because of her participation in the temple of Athena in Athens. That is true.. however, she knew that she wouldn't be able to continue seeing me..." he paused before looking at the ring. "Medusa was a good women, and The night before hand... we finally-" |
4fd317af2848442e8085782f1ce28a18 | ['835d1a1234554a44948c44727ca324d6'] | "I'm still a submissive slut, I've just realized that you're not as bad ass as you like to think."
"I'm a convicted felon!" Jared insists, the gay couple in the car next to him stopping their activities to stare with wide eyes. "We're on the run, it doesn't even get more bad ass than that." Jensen mouths 'role play' to the couple and they grin before he drags Jared into a nearby alley.
"Well maybe if you didn't insist on pouting like a bitch every few seconds."
Jared pulls back and shoves Jensen roughly into the wall.
"Watch your mouth."
Jensen seems to suddenly remember who's in charge. "I'm sorry Jared, it's just stress and-"
"I still own you." Jared's fingers are clutching his hair tightly and now Jensen knows why he's been forced to grow it out. Their banter is comfortable, but he should know by now how quickly Jared can snap. It kinda turns him on. "I'm sorry about dinner, I didn't know I was that well known." He says it with a hint of pride and Jensen has to bite his tongue to keep from rolling his eyes. "But that doesn't give you an excuse to act like a prissy bitch." He stares him down for a bit before shoving away, pulling him around the side of the building and through the entrance, nodded through by a bouncer.
"Wait, is this a bdsm club?" Jensen cries out indignantly.
Jared grins at his embarrassed splutter, resting a heavy hand at the back of his neck and guiding him through a group of writhing bodies. "My friend owns the place." He nods over to a blonde man at the other side of the club. "Besides, we need somewhere safe to stay." He massages the top of Jensen's spine with strong fingers as they finally meander their way out of the throng of bodies.
"Jared!" The man greets when they're close enough for him to be heard over the throbbing of the music. He shakes Jared's hand thoroughly before turning towards Jensen. "And who is this fine specimen?"
"Chad's a douche." Jared says in way of explanation.
Chad holds his hands up in surrender. "Guilty as charged. Your room's up the stairs, second on the left." He backs away, blowing Jensen a kiss. "If the police come looking I'll send them straight up."
Jared rolls his eyes and tightens his grip at the back of Jensen's neck, guiding him up the stairs.
"Erm, Jay? Is this safe? Chad just said-"
"If the police come by, Chad will either send them away or take them to the back alley and shoot them." Jensen's eyes widen as he's hustled through the door and onto the large king sized bed. "Now get some sleep, you're tired."
He is, but he's also suspicious. Jared hasn't just let him sleep in months. Unfortunately, his body's needs soon won out and it wasn't long before he was drifting off to sleep.
\----------------------------------------
Jensen awakes to the feeling of a hard cock pumping in and out of him. He'd protest but somehow he's already been pulled onto his knees in his sleep and the pounding he's getting is enough to give him the morning wood of the century.
He groans into the pillow, recognizing the feeling of straps around his thighs, keeping his legs spread, shackles around his wrists keeping him from pulling away, and a gag in his mouth to keep him quiet. It's been done before, but Jensen startles as he hears a whirring noise, confused as to where the sound is coming from. He opens his eyes sleepily, trying to adjust his eyesight, blinking away the soft morning blur before he can make out Jared laying down in front of him.
Jensen's eyes widen and he cries out, Jared's whip-fast hand grabbing his face so that he can't turn round. He's panicking now, Jared's shushes only serving to make him writhe more on the cock that's still thrusting in and out of his hole.
"Found him downstairs, you like?" He releases Jensen's neck and he sags in not-quite relief when he sees that the thing that's fucking him is a machine, not a person. Good for some reasons, really bad for others. He moans around the gag, struggling to pull away, only to have Jared tut and flip a switch, causing the machine to pound faster. "Now you stay there and behave, I've been putting off reading this thing for weeks." Jared settles on the bed next to him, pulling out a book from the side draw and shimmying himself down in the bed until he's comfortable enough to read.
It isn't long before Jensen start shaking coming without a hand on his cock withing minutes of him waking up. Jared gives a forlorn sigh, wiping away the mess and placing down a plastic sheet in preparation for his next orgasm. The older man returns to his book and Jensen flushes, mouthing around the gag, his lover paying him no attention.
A while later, Jensen comes again, whimper wrenching its way out of his throat as his body clenches around the machine, crying as it continues to pound into him.
He's a wreck by the time Jared finally finishes the book. His body's quaking and the sheet beneath him is a mess.
Jared puts down the book and moves over to him, stroking a soothing hand down his flank. "One more time, okay baby?" Jensen tries to shake his head, but he spots Jared's hand hovering warningly over the speed switch, causing him to sob into the gag. "One more time." He moves up to Jensen's face and removes the gag, shushing him as he mutters grunts and curses and pleas.
"Jared, I can't-" Jared holds his jaw still with a firm grip before pushing his cock in between red bitten lips.
"Come on, make me come." The tears are running down his face but he does as he's told, bobbing up and down with an urgency befitting his survival instincts. Jared's hands run down the back of his neck and he moans around his mouthful, pride swelling his heart as Jared lets out a loud groan.
Jared's grip tightens and he starts fucking into his mouth harshly, holding his head in place. His only movement now is the machines, forcing his body forward on every hard thrust and Jared takes a second to let that sink in before he's finally coming, blinding white seeping in at the edges of his vision.
Jensen swallows greedily and soon he's coming for the third and final time, hips pumping into the air as only the slightest spurt of come shoots out onto the sheet. His body finally collapses to the side, and he shudders in relief when Jared finally turns the machine off. Hands reach down to unbuckle his thighs and hands, moving the plastic sheet off of the bed and allowing him to spread out his limbs.
"I love you so much." Jared says against his neck, chuckling at Jensen's barely there gasp.
"Love you too, Jay." The weak smile he gets makes Jared's heart swell and he wraps an arm around his lover.
"Go back to sleep now, Jen."
Jensen wonders how he's going to wake up this time. | 9c0a907160c546dcbf39f738e2346565 | ['835d1a1234554a44948c44727ca324d6'] | "Yeah." Jared grinned, nipping a little at his lower lip. "I think here would be great." Jensen groaned and pushed forward, grunting in frustration when Jared pulled back and iron bars pushed against his cheeks. "Not now sweetheart, I have different plans." Jared reached down to Jensen's belt, undoing it with nimble fingers. "You got any lube?" He asked, even as he pushed Jensen's pants down, grinning at the clunk his belt made as it hit the floor.
Jensen's face was pink as he tried to cover his groin. "I've got some oil in my pack." He tilted his head in the direction of the bag, over by the sheriffs desk.
"Go get it then." Jared grinned. Jensen blushed, but stepped out of the pile his pants had made on the floor, walking over to his pack before finding that it was impossible to successfully cover his erection as well as search for the oil at the same time. He tilted his hips away from Jared, ignoring the chuckle coming from the cell. Finally he found the oil, and he stood as he walked back to Jared, oil in one hand, trying to cover his erection with the other. "As adorable as that is," Jared grinned lecherously. "It's not going to help you." Jensen frowned in confusion, red flush working it's way up to the tips of his ears. "I can't prep you very well from in here."
Jensen blinked a couple of times in confusion until he suddenly realized what Jared was insinuating. "You want me to... put my fingers-" He cut himself off, blushing.
"That's exactly what I want. And if you want my dick in that tight little ass of yours any time soon, you're going to have to get a move on." Jensen looked at him in indignation. "Don't even try and pretend you haven't done it before." Jared grinned a little. "Bet you do it at night, huh?" Jensen is shocked to find himself already leaning over the sheriff's rickety old desk, fingers covered in oil as he reaches behind himself. "In some friendly, upstanding town. They have no idea what you do to yourself at night, when you're sleeping at their inn's." Jensen gasped a little as his finger pressed in. "How you're touching yourself. What you're thinking about."
"Jared." He hissed as he added a second finger too early, burning sensations slithering up his spine.
"You think about me, don't you?" Jensen could see Jared pull his cock out of his pants from the corner of his eye, but he was too busy thrusting his fingers into himself to really pay attention to anything other than the pleasure he was feeling and Jared's humiliating words. "I know you do. They think that you're a good guy. A _Ranger_. Someone they can rely on. But you're upstairs touching yourself, wishing you had my cock in you." Jensen nodded, humping his hips to rub his dick against the table, precome dripping into the cracks. "I'm a criminal Jensen, a man even. But you still can't help it, need to be filled up with cock like a courtesan. I think you're in the wrong profession sweetheart.
"Jared please, I need to-"
"Then come back over here." Jensen removed his fingers with a whimper, walking swiftly over to Jared, too worked up to attempt to cover himself. "On your hands and knees now, ass against the bars." Jensen obeyed him without a sound, head bowing down as he felt the chill of the cold iron bars press against his ass cheeks. "Such a good boy." He heard Jared drop to his knees behind him, and within seconds he could feel the tip of Jared's length tracing his crack. "Ask for it." Jared demanded.
"Please." Jensen whispered in return.
A minute later and Jared was thrusting in, hips pounding away almost immediately, leaving him no time to adjust. Jensen grunted at the intrusion, hands slipping as he tried desperately to cling on. "Fuck yeah." Jared grunted, thrusting forward forcefully, sending Jensen onto his forearms in hopes of a better grip. "Knew you'd follow me." Of course he did, Jared seemed to know everything about him. "Knew you couldn't resist." Jensen nodded, biting his lip to stifle his groans. "Don't you dare." Jared slapped a hand down onto his ass. "If I wanted you to be quiet I'd gag you." Jensen moaned out loud, mind drifting back to their previous meeting. "You enjoyed that, didn't you? Even when I'm in a jail cell I've still got you at my mercy." He slapped another hand down and Jensen cried out. "Such a whore, aren't you sweetheart?"
He slapped him again to force out a response. "Yes, Jared. Oh _fuck_."
Jared chuckled between his harsh breaths, slamming his hips forward, sweat glistening down his chest and powerful thighs. "I think I'm a bit of a bad influence on you." He didn't sound apologetic at all.
Jensen reached down to grasp his cock, relieved that Jared couldn't stop him, he pumped his hips back and forth between his hand and Jared's cock.
"Come for me." Jared ordered. And that was that. Jensen whimpered as he reached his orgasm, muscles clenching as his body hit the peak of it's pleasure. Even as his vision whited out he could feel Jared coming inside of him, hips stuttering as it was wrenched out of him by Jensen's muscles as they fluttered through the aftershock.
Jensen sank down to the floor, knees too wobbly to hold him up, Jared's cock slipping out on his way down.
\--
"What the ever loving hell do you think you're doing?!?" Jensen was harshly awakened by the Sheriff's shocked, angry features. That was when he noticed his own lack of clothing.
_Shit_.
He could hear Jared backing away in the cell behind him as he managed to pull himself up onto his knees, trying to cover his genitals. |
4f642eb72abe44de8cadd4e2ee6e636e | ['835eda9204564f9b8ba6a8288d78ed65'] | "I'm scared, Lo," Roman whispered into his shoulder. Logan carefully wrapped his arms around the other boy and stood up, taking Roman with him. The smaller boy wrapped his legs around Logan's waist to keep from falling as Logan carried him into his room. It was still raining hard. Logan set Roman down on his bed and closed the door. He walked around the room, closing his curtains and turning off his lights. Roman started to whimper again, but the taller boy quickly flipped a small light switch, and roman was speechless, storm apparently forgotten. Logan scratched the back of his neck self consciously. It had taken him a long time to wire the fairy lights in the ceiling, but now it was worth it. There was a full, size and shape accurate, to-scale model of the stars made of fairy lights on his ceiling. Roman gaped. Just then, thunder crackled again, and the boy on the bed flinched. Logan walked back over there quickly and set his hands on the other boy's thighs, kneeling in front of him.
"Hey, it's okay, it's just thunder, it can't hurt us in here. Roman, look at me. _It can't hurt us._ " Roman sniffled and nodded at these words, but continued to shake. Logan straightened up and got onto the bed with him, wrapping his arms back around him and laying down. He let Roman cry into his shirt without saying a thing, just soothingly rubbing his bak under the hoodie. Eventually, as the thunder drifted away, Roman's sobs turned into hiccups, and then faded away into shaky breaths. It suddenly struck him that Roman was wearing his hoodie, the one from a few days ago, while he was panicking. Roman, the self-assured, brave, feisty boy was seeking comfort in _him_ , he realized with a jolt.
_That doesn't make sense, I'm the least comforting one here_ , he thought to himself, feeling Roman's heartbeat go back to normal and his breathing steady. He remained lost in thought for a while before he realized that the creative side had fallen asleep. He smiled, almost unconsciously, and rubbed another quick circle onto the sleeping boy's back before extricating himself and looking at his clock, which read 3:57 AM. He took off his glasses and rubbed his face before replacing them and standing up. He glanced back at Roman's sleeping figure. He was usually too stubborn, obstinate, and egotistic for Logan to even look at him, but now, he seemed peaceful and almost pretty. His hair framed his face perfectly, and he had many freckles for all the time he spent out fighting in the sun. _He looks so different from the prince in the suit_ , Logan decided. _He looks whole_. Logan tore his eyes away from the boy who was sleeping peacefully through the rain, eyes falling instead on a blanket by his chair. He carefully laid it over the sleeping boy and left the room, closing his door and turning off his stars on the way. _I'll sleep in the library tonight._ " He thought, not wanting to invade Roman's privacy. He curled up in one of the blue armchairs in the large room. He quickly shot off a text to Virgil and Pat and then, not long after, he drifted off.
Roman woke up to muted sunlight filtering through the curtains. He grunted and rolled over, facing the wall and pulling the blanket further up over his body. Upon finding he could not simply fall back asleep, he opened his eyes. Blue. That's not usually what color his wall is. He sat up and looked around the room. It was navy blue and had a desk and a painting of a nebula on the wall, which he recognized as one of Virgil's pieces. It started to dawn on him and his sleep fogged brain that maybe this wasn't his room, but was, in fact, Logan's. The events of the previous night started to slip into his mind. He remembered being afraid of the storm, logan bringing him here, Logan's stars, and falling asleep while being held. That last one brought a slight flush to his cheeks, and he let his head fall back against the wall, groaning slightly. Once the embarrassment had passed, he looked back around, observing the blanket as well. It had Saturn on it. _What a space nerd._ He climbed out of bed and walked into the hallway, heading downstairs and into the kitchen. Patton was bustling about with breakfast and chatting with Virgil, who was drinking coffee like his life depended on it.
"Goodmorning Roman!" Patton said as the prince entered the room. Virgil looked up with a small, quick smile before going back to his coffee.
"Morning Pat, morning Virge, wow, that smells amazing, what're you making?" he said, sitting down next to Virgil and grabbing the coffee pot, pouring a bit into a mug and filling it the rest of the way with milk and sugar.
"Frittata, it's gonna have potatoes on top as well," Patton said cheerfully, smacking Virgil's hand away from the bacon. Virgil pouted a little before once again returning to his coffee.
"That sounds amazing. Hey, has anyone seen Logan? I woke up in his room but he wasn't there." At this, Virgil coughed so hard that coffee came out of his nose. Roman burst out laughing as the other, now coffee-soaked boy fanned his face and panted.
"O-owww-ugh-why did you wake up in his room?!-ah-owwww-you guys weren't frickle frackling, were you?" Virgil said, mopping up the mess with some napkins. Roman blushed bright pink at that insinuation.
"No! I was scared of the storm, so he brought me into his room, why would you think something like that?!" he said, looking like a radish. Virgil nodded in understanding.
"That explains it, I remember Lo texted me and Patton something about that, you feeling better now?"
"Yeah, thanks," Roman responded. "Did he mention anything about where he might be?" | e04c7ab197a9423cb8acd108f99e3105 | ['835eda9204564f9b8ba6a8288d78ed65'] | Jeremy walked in, smiling ever so slightly and sat on the counter as Michael locked back up.
"Okay, a, you just said rolled out of bread, and 2, fuck you, I put the work in for this semblance of semi-clear skin, applying foundation evenly is fucking difficult my dude."
Michael rolled his eyes.
"I have so many ways I could respond to that, but I literally have no energy and some caffeinated bliss to sink into. Anyway, you're here for a reason, what's up?" he said, taking a sip of his tea and sitting down at the table. Jeremy pulled out his phone.
"Okay, so Jenna's gonna have trouble getting here on time and is instead wondering if we could meet up at the cafe down the street at 10? That's about two hours away so you'll have time to shower and get ready and just start to function like a human being. How's that sound?" Jeremy looked up from his phone at Michael who was looking more awake, if only slightly.
"That sounds like it works, the only other thing I'm planning to do today is to find where the last witch set up the shop and maybe get started on reopening it? There's not much other than pancakes I can eat on what I currently have saved up." Jeremy snorted at Michael's deadpan tone.
"You laugh now, but try eating pancakes for three weeks straight. I want Indian food." He finished his tea and stood up.
"I'm gonna go shower, help yourself to anything in here, I should be right back, if I'm not, avenge me."
With that, he went to shower.
In about 15 minutes he came back out, with wet hair and clean clothes, looking refreshed and awake.
"Ah, the witch emerges from his den. How are we feeling after some moisturizer and shampoo?" Jeremy was smirking and appeared to be taking a video on his phone.
Michael rolled his eyes for what seemed to be the millionth time.
"I'm feeling better you bastard, put the phone down, there's literally nothing to see here."
"Folks, that is a blatant lie, we got him, what a liar-"
"Jeremy," Michael said, exasperated, but smiling all the while.
"Yes, Michael?" Jeremy responded innocently, still filming.
"Why are you filming me?"
"Probably because most of my friends haven't met you and don't believe that you can really float." Jeremy looked at the other boy pleadingly.
"Okay, fine you idiot. Put the puppy eyes away, you look ridiculous."
Jeremy gasped, mock offended.
"Michael, I cannot believe you would say such hurtful things. After all we've been through together!" At some point in this speech, Michael had started cracking up and was now clutching his stomach and giggling hysterically.
"Wow, my pain is a joke to you! I'm offended-" At this point, Jeremy started to giggle as well. Michael started to calm down and was now only laughing intermittently.
"I thought you wanted me to float, not have a seizure." he chuckled
"At this point either works, although the video's getting a bit long so you should get on with it."
Michael rolled his eyes dramatically and walked out int an open area. He was on camera, so he was gonna put on a show. He leaned back, arching his spine with a flexibility that could not under any circumstances be achieved without magic and slowly, slowly, lifted his feet off the ground one by one, before completing his backbend and winding up floating cross-legged in front of Jeremy. He smiled almost shyly.
"Ta-da!" he said.
Jeremy looked shocked but at this, he seemed to regain some of his previous filming bravado.
"Frickin show off."
The two boys passed the time in various ways after that, mostly Michael showing off and Jeremy filming him and teasing him playfully. Time seemed to fly and when the alarm that Jeremy had set to start heading down to the cafe went off, both were startled, Michael enough so that he fell out of the air.
"So where even is this place?" He asked as he started to pick himself up. Jeremy offered him a hand, which he accepted.
"It's like a block away, it's called A Cup and A Pinch and it's got amazing cheesecake. It also serves as an adoption center for cats. They live there and the employees are really nice. It's owned by someone named Mallie, she's a sweetheart. She lives with her wife above it and takes care of the cats when it closes."
Michael made it off the floor and grabbed his hoodie, phone, and keys.
"It sounds fantastic, let's head out, do you need to grab anything?"
The two boys left the flat and locked up.
"Nah, I got everything."
They took the elevator down and left the building. It took about five minutes to get there. It was a homey place, with Lo-Fi music playing inside, and cats on roughly 80% of the surfaces.
"Jeremy! Hi, oh my gosh, so good to see you!" A girl hopped up from a table near to them and gave Jeremy a hug, which the boy happily returned.
"Hey Chrissy, how've you been?" he asked when they separated. |
7bcaae96d95c43198518d4515dbf9891 | ['837c0056368943068618a7a8b379dbe7'] | _It is obvious that my time has come and it's okay, I accept that. It's been a honor raising you into the thoughtful young man you are today. Take care of your Papa and sisters, you're the man of the house now.....I'm kidding! I wish I could see the look on your face right now, I bet it's priceless. I'm doing fine, the surgery went as planned (like your Pops already told you) and I'm on the road to recovery. I know you want to come up here and visit, I would too if the roles were reversed but trust me, the ICU is no place for a teenage boy. I've got so many wires and tubes in me right now I look a lab experiment. It's not a pretty sight and it's kind of embarrassing so, that's why you need to go home and help Pepper with your sisters. I'll see you tomorrow, cross my heart (see what I did there). Love you Petey!_
_Xoxo Tony Stark... Your Dad_
Peter grinned at the note and folded it back up, shoving it into his coat pocket.
"Is Dad really embarrassed? I don't think I've ever heard of him being embarrassed before." He asked Bruce.
"Well if that's what he wrote then I guess he is. It happens to the best of us, he'll get over it. The important thing is that you should be going home."
"You guys planned this out, didn't you?"
"I had nothing to do with this." Bruce said, raising his hands in defense. "Now go home. I should be back later tonight."
"You're not staying with Dad tonight?"
"I can't. The ICU has strict visiting hours plus, I wouldn't want to subject your Aunt Pepper to you guys all night."
"You heard the guy Pete, he'll be home later. Let's get you home." Wade said, standing up and stretching. He had been stuck in that chair for what seemed like a lifetime.
Peter sighed and nodded. "Yeah, we should go. We've got that test this week..." He stood up next to Wade and also, stretched his limbs a bit. "I'll see you later Papa."
Bruce gave his son a hug and Wade a quick, appreciative grin. "I'll see you later. Love you."
"Love you too." Peter gave a small smile before following Wade out of the hospital.
Bruce watched them both leave and let out a deep breath once they both had exited.
He honestly wasn't expecting Tony's plan to work. The man was known for having questionable ideas but, they always seemed to work out in the end. That was one of the many defining characteristics Bruce loved about him.
~•~
Tony gripped Bruce's hand as the doctor grabbed the tube.
"Just try to relax Mr. Stark. This should be over shortly."
The doctor started the slow and agonizing process of removing the ventilator tube from Tony's throat, causing him to periodically cough and sputter.
Bruce winced at the sight of it. He knew that in the end it would help Tony, he didn't need the ventilator anymore. He also knew it was for the best, he could tell that the tube made Tony both physically and emotionally uncomfortable. Sometimes you have to deal with the rain so you can get the rainbow. This was one of those times.
So he dealt with it and Tony did too.
Once the doctors had successfully removed the tube, Bruce gave a sigh of relief. Tony probably would have too if he wasn't so focused on breathing.
"Hey..."
He could hear the raspy mess that was his husbands voice. It was deep and pained, as if somebody had been gripping his throat in a fight.
In a way that was what had happened. The tube did practically attack his body, penetrated his open mouth and he was in a fight, with his own health.
Still, the sound that escaped Tony's opened mouth sounded the complete opposite of his usually composed partner, but it was still recognizable. He could still identify it, it was oddly familiar yet, it sounded like nothing he'd ever heard of.
"Hello again." Bruce replied, sporting a gentle smile.
"I want to speak to the kids."
"You just got the ventilator removed, why don't you give it a bit."
"Your husband's right Mr. Stark. I'd suggest remaining quiet for a little longer to give your throat time to heal." Doctor Lewinsky told him whilst writing down various medical details on his chart.
Tony looked at Bruce, who gave him a tiny nod.
"Fine I'll wait a minu-" Tony was cut off by a coughing fit.
Bruce rubbed his arm, trying to help him through it. Of course it was pointless, a rub on the arm wouldn't help his husbands dry and scratchy throat.
"Am I at least allowed to have some water?"
"I'm sorry Mr. Stark but, with the stomach tube in still that is not the best idea. We'd like to start you on clear liquids tomorrow."
Tony huffed and leaned his head further back into the mattress, letting it envelop him.
"I'll leave you both to your own devices. A nurse will come to check your vitals and adjust your medication later."
Tony stayed quiet and slumped as the doctor exited the room. He turned towards Bruce and gave him a smile.
"Rest your vocals for a while, it should help with the discomfort." Bruce told him.
"Oh, so you're a doctor now?" Tony cheekily responded.
"I've been a doctor for 14 years hun. I'm just not that kind of doctor."
"Oh I forgot. I have the privilege to be married to the incredibly sexy hunk that is Doctor Robert Bruce Stark."
"I wouldn't use hunk to describe myself. I'd say I'm more hulking."
"And why would you say that?" Tony asked.
"I'm big and I'm clumsy Tony."
"Clumsy I can see but, big?" | f496b70992de4d668c1982bb34bb5ce1 | ['837c0056368943068618a7a8b379dbe7'] | "Remind me to speak to the school about the girls transferring teachers."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thank yoiu all for reading! Sorry it's not my best work and it's a little fast paced!
>
> COMMENT QUESTIONS, CONCERNS, PROMPTS, OR REALLY ANYTHING!!!
**Author's Note:**
> So, I tried changing up my writing style.
>
> Also, I did a lot of research on Dads raising infants and apparently a lot of Dads gain around thirty pounds so that's why I had Bruce gain a couple of pounds and address his body confidence issues.
>
> I also wanted to add to Bruce's backstory and add to his character.
>
> The next chapter should be up soon!
>
> COMMENT ANY SUGGESTIONS OR PROMPTS YOU HAVE FOR THIS SERIES. I'D BE MORE THEN HAPPY TO HEAR THEM! |
fdcfc81e1e49486c91f4d56092eea2b7 | ['838e424f944442e092640a3bbc55406e'] | Looking around the room one last time, his gaze persisted on Ethan almost pathetically, for a couple of beats, before he finally exhaled a deep sigh & left, as silently as he did when he came in, and turned the light off; closing the door behind him. Then, he finally retired to his own bed, too tired to even think properly.
* * *
Ethan awoke with a startle, his throat incredibly parched, and his eyes opened, adjusting to the darkness. "What the fuck." He murmured, not remembering having a blanket. However, the first thought on his mind wasn't even about water. It was about _Grayson_. The equivalent of oxygen for him. He squinted, turning his phone on, and staring at the screen for the time_. 3:34am_. He had fallen asleep way too early.
Not giving a shit about acting like a pussy if he apologised first or not; Ethan made his way towards Grayson's room, swearing as he tripped over another stupid box of fucking cereal. He tangled his fingers in his damp hair, realizing that he had been sweating like some idiot who had just ran a marathon or some shit.
As he opened Grayson's room, his heart broke even further. He breathed in heavily at the sight of him, not realizing he'd been holding his breath the entire time. Grayson hadn't even changed out of his clothes, but was simply lying on his bed, probably in a deep sleep. The bedside lamp was on, and he hadn't even bothered to put his phone on charge. _Fuck, he must've really been tired._
Even though it had only been a day of them not communicating properly, it had felt like a year. And, Ethan was over it. It hurt everywhere, just to be without Gray.
"Doofus." Ethan muttered, as he shrugged off his own shirt, before kneeling on the bed, next to Grayson's looming figure. "Gray." Ethan spoke softly, realizing his twin was shivering in his sleep. Grayson opened his eyes mid-way, still half-asleep. The light from the bedside lamp, accentuated his features perfectly. The fluttering eyelashes, the brownish-black hair, the hazel eyes, the still-slightly-swollen nose from a surgery, the plump lips. Even the _tampon earring._
There was no one that Ethan loved more than Grayson. He only realized that in that moment. The sounds of their breathing synchronized. He always felt unbelievably incomplete without his twin; his other part. The other half of himself.
"Let me take your pants off for you." Ethan mumbled, on the brink of emotion. Grayson sleepily obliged, wriggling as Ethan pulled off the uncomfortable ripped jeans off of Grayson. Now left in boxers, Gray was a lot more comfortable, and he closed his eyes again.
Ethan thought that it was a sign for him to leave, so he began getting off the bed, before he felt an arm tug on his wrist. "Stay." Grayson could barely whisper.
So, that's what Ethan did. He slid under the comforter that was on Grayson, and they locked eyes with each other, both with a vulnerable gaze in their similar eyes. The warmth of Gray was comforting. They were barely an inch apart from each other, and their noses were practically touching. "You're a real motherfucker." Grayson swallowed, licking his lips, before stretching in a daze. "I know." Ethan watched him. "And, I'm so sorry." He murmured again, realizing that there was a tear sliding down Gray's face. "My eyes are just sweating. No big deal." Grayson shut his eyes, his voice sounding stuffy.
"I'm the biggest asshole to exist. I know I am. I was a bitchass, even though it was my fault." Ethan continued, realizing his own cheeks felt wet too. "We keep fighting about the stupidest of shit." Grayson added, his bicep flexing as he reached to wipe Ethan's face instinctively.
"I know." Ethan's voice cracked. The moon outside the window, hung lowly, almost a witness to their encounter. It casted a shadow over Ethan's face.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean the stuff I said. I never do." Ethan whispered, wriggling closer to Grayson. They could never be close enough. They were two halves of a soul, separated. "The worst thing is, it was all about me being a sleepy fuck, and not having cereal around. Man, I really am a bitch." He grinned, trying to make light of the situation.
"E." Grayson breathed, a few tears now sliding down his face freely. It wasn't just about today. It was about everyday. Ruined relationships, not uploading to their channel, their dad's passing. Everything felt too soon, too real.
Seeing Grayson in such a vulnerable manner, made Ethan feel so raw, and unguarded. He leaned over to kiss Grayson's forehead lightly, his mouth remaining on Gray's warm skin, for a few seconds too long, before pulling him closer to himself, resting his jaw on Grayson's shoulder. Grayson wrapped an arm around Ethan's waist, tucking himself into the crook of Ethan's neck.
"I love you. I won't pull that shit again. I'm so sorry. I should get fucked if I ever do." Ethan apologised again, closing his eyes. Nothing mattered when he was in Grayson's arms, as gay as that sounded. Grayson felt Ethan's stubble prickle his skin, but in a nice way. He was used to it.
"Love you too. You better not. Or I'll call in James to do the fucking." Grayson replied bluntly, closing his eyes again, before placing a small kiss on Ethan's jaw from where he was, his grip on Ethan tightening. Ethan gasped, both at the fluttering kiss, and at what Grayson had just said. Ethan wheezed, before rolling his eyes. "I'll pass."
After that, a comfortable silence followed. They were both seemingly happy in their embrace, before they let go, resting their heads on a pillow, in attempt to sleep. Then, something _incredibly important_ occurred to Ethan.
"Wait." Ethan tugged sharply on Grayson's hair, who protested in pain. "_Ow_. What?"
Ethan looked at him for a couple of beats, before smiling wickedly. Then, he bit his lip, before speaking.
_"If we cuddle, can I be the big spoon?_" | e414542267f34e26bb6c388ee7e6e3e6 | ['838e424f944442e092640a3bbc55406e'] | Bringing over a fresh roll of bandage, the medicine, and the glass of water - Harvey took his seat next to Mike Ross; glancing at the clock while he was at it. 4:22am. And, it was a weekday. "We need to get you to a hospital, by the way." Harvey continued tiredly, tenderly taking Mike's arm in his own, and wrapping it carefully.
Mike watched him as he did so; tearing up - emotions taking over the best of him. He wanted to know whether or not everything would be okay. He wanted to ask Harvey a thousand questions; 999 of which that he knew the other man wouldn't have the answer to.
"I don't think so." He instead gulped, in reference to Harvey wanting to take him to the hospital. The contact between them feeling like sparks of electricity. They were both fully-clothed, yet the expression that they shared with each other might as well have been the same expression between them when they were both on the same bed, with only boxers on.
"I do." Harvey finished wrapping the injured arm, and popped two pills, handing them to Mike, who dutifully swallowed them with a sip of water. Staring at the younger man expectedly, he leaned back onto the couch, wanting to know what happened to Mike Ross.
"I got in a fucking car accident. Can you believe it? I was just crossing the road, really. Some Californian motherfucker rams me with his Porsche, and the only reason he even got out of the car was to see whether his Porsche had any dents. It didn't."
Harvey inhaled sharply, not knowing what to do or say next. "Let me guess, was the model a ' _914_ ' by any chance?" He deadpanned, referencing one of the arguably worst Porsche models of all type; a clunky sports make that no one knew what to do with.
Letting out a small laugh, then wincing immediately as he did so - Mike shook his head. "A _912_."
"Equally as bad." The managing partner scoffed, rolling his eyes. The number of cars that Harvey owned were excessive, but his car knowledge was even more excessive.
After a few silent beats, the older man stood up - knowing that he needed to get Mike to the hospital somehow. Arguments could be argued later. All that mattered now was ensuring that Mike Ross wasn't in any pain.
20. I Say, 'No, No, No.'
Harvey Specter had one arm around Mike Ross, platonically. The other man could barely walk straight, and worries about telling Rachel about what happened, etched on his mind. Luckily, Ray pulled up just in time on the footpath - making them avoid any awkward small-talk. Smiling gratefully at Ray for showing up at 5am, when he had a family of his own - Harvey got into the backseat with Mike.
There was an evident distance between the two, and Harvey inched over towards his window, staying even further away from Mike. Sure, he respected the space that Mike Ross wanted; but at what cost? All Mike wanted was to curl up to Harvey; to spend the night with him - as unrealistic as it sounded. Streetlights washed by the windows as Ray started the engine, and began driving at a snail's pace to the nearest hospital. With only countable hours until dawn - Harvey was considerably calm.
Breathing in deeply, and someone that was unable to bear awkward silence, Mike cleared his throat. "I know you're dying to know what happened, Ray. Ask me." He hummed light-heartedly, earning a questionable look from Harvey. Ray chuckled, glancing into the rearview mirror. "Alright, you got me. What happened?" Ray spoke, ruffling his own hair. "Right, so listen to this -" Mike started saying, his cheeky tone returning, the pain-killers having taken affect.
As Harvey listened to Mike repeat the story in an amusing way that made Ray laugh - he frowned, realizing how much he missed Mike Ross. Mike had that childlike demeanour in him, that never failed to make other people smile - no matter what the issue was.
"He was _jogging_ on the _road_ at _3AM._ Does that not call for a psychiatrist check-up?" Harvey interrupted, his cocky charm making the conversation flow even more easily. Mike snorted, gesturing at Ray. "You would know, considering you _dated_ like half of the psychiatrists out there." The younger man placed a hand on his abdomen in attempt to lessen the pain, and said sarcastically.
This got a smile out of Harvey. "I’m pretty sure Paula counts as one person, not as _half of the psychiatrists in the world_. And, get your facts right, Sherlock. She was a therapist."
"Whatever. You know better about this, I'm not one to argue. Right, Ray?" Mike joked - seeing the local hospital grow nearer in the distance. "Can't say I disagree. Sorry, Boss." Ray murmured dramatically. This got a mock-disbelief look out of Harvey, who grew serious as soon as he saw the hospital as well.
"Right, don't even mention a car. They'll question legibility due to you not reporting it as soon as it happened. I say that our safest bets are with acting as if you got into a fight. Don't drop names, not even any fake ones. It'll call for a questionable suit that you really don't need right now. Let them treat you; and the sooner we can get out of there, the better." Any signs of an emotional Harvey Specter disappeared, and was replaced with one of the top lawyers in New York - one that was full of information, matter-of-factly, and a true hustler.
"What if Rachel finds out about this, though, Harvey? It's exactly why I didn't want to come here in the first place." Mike raised his voice. |
37ea83d5ae9e48b58653d9617d589246 | ['8395d9ab1db541df819e94c2bc8f99d8'] |
1. Smidge's workout
**Author's Note:**
> Hey Trolls fans, this is my first ever fic and honestly I don't really write ever so I'm not sure how this holds up, grammer is my enemy and words aren't good friends of mine either but here goes nothing.
Giggling.
Yes, Branch was sure "giggling" was the appropriate word to describe the loud strange hiccup like laughs currently escaping his mouth. It's not that he'd never heard a giggle before, knowing Poppy all his life made that an impossibility. This, however, was the first time he could remember hearing himself do it. This felt foreign to him. Absurd even. But he just couldn't help it...nor did he seem to care. From high up on their elevated mushroom platform, Branch now gripped his sides as the laughter overtook him, transferring a giddy energy to his rhythmic feet as they watched their weird new moment-ruining cloud friend plummet to a fate unknown, the product of being tandem high fived out of the sky by the two trolls.
_He’ll be fine. He’s a cloud after all._
“I still don’t get the whole socks with no shoes thing.” He smirked. Poppy looked at him quizzically, and then down in the direction the cloud guy fell, genuinely pondering the statement for a moment. “Well, if you’re up in the sky most of the time… Why would you need shoes?“ she quipped with a smirk. A quiet “Huh.” was all he could muster, a tad baffled by the unexpected logic in the joke, to which he really had no argument for. “I guess when you put it like that...” he mused, cracking a half smile. With a comforting new sense of relief and contentment, he allowed a few more precious chuckles with the newly crowned queen. What was the harm anyway? Unless Smidge dropped them of course... _Naw, this is probably just another day at the gym for her._ He could let his guard down, for once. They were safe from the Bergens.
_… For now._ he allowed the troubled thought, but only for a moment, he was too preoccupied by his current reality to let his old survivalist paranoia fully take hold, all while blissfully unaware that their laughter was shifting dangerously close to silence. Too close. **Too late.**
They were alone again.
_Holy hair, how long can Smidge keep this up? This is craz… wait. Why is it so quiet...? Uh oh… Oh no-oh no-oh- **oh no!!** Uh-uh-uh.. C’mon Say something to her, sticks for brains! Ugh! You’ve only spent THE LAST FEW DAYS ALONE WITH HER and had no problem talking to her then. Aaaaahhhh... _
While Branch’s mind was about to spontaneously combust, it was Poppy who finally broke the prolonged silence. “I can’t believe I finally got to hear your laugh.” she paused, smiling off in the distance before turning to meet his gaze. “You have a nice one.” She concluded. Letting those electric candy eyes linger on serene sky ones for a moment.
_I do?... She thinks-_ His eyes widened in shock, his mouth tightened. Heat engulfed him as the dark violet blush that flooded his face suddenly, seemed to set off the few glittering freckles he had, like a chain reaction of tiny firecrackers across his cheeks.
_Well now you **have to** say something._
Tourmaline eyes came back for another visit, paralyzing his in the process.
Silence.
_This is weird. I don’t like this. UGH… Just say it._ He took a moment and swallowed. “I can’t take all the credit, I learned from the best.” He said, holding her gaze. Then, immediately elbowing her to drive his point home, followed by that sarcastic smirk, that could only belong to Branch.
“Awwww! That’s so sweet.” she exclaimed briefly, before regaining her composure. “but nice try!” She shot up an eyebrow. “You can’t just teach someone how to laugh... It’s just something that’s already inside them.” she said, reaching up to ruffle the front part of his recently taller, not to mention more colorful, hair.
The sudden sensation of fingers through his locks, and momentarily touching his scalp, caused Branch to freeze.
_Does she like my hair? He beamed, cheeks darkening a bit more at the thought. Nah, she’s probably just as weirded out by it as I am._ He scoffed. _Maybe she’s checking to see if it’s real._
He got his bearings again. “Well, either way, it wouldn’t be possible… w-without you.” He managed, eyes darting away from her, sheepishly looking off in the distance, before eventually finding the courage to turn back to her again. The pink fire in her eyes still blazing.
_I wonder if I should... Does she want me to…_
“Wow.” she said, sounding truly in awe.
“Hmm?” he put his previous thought away, wondering and fearing how this moment could get any more perfect.
“I just can’t wrap my hair around it,” she started, eyes on his, and yet somewhere off in ‘cupcakes and rainbows’ land as well. “It’s all just so… surreal I guess.” He listened intently, a patient, albeit perplexed look on his face as she continued. “Like wow!... You’re just soooo genuinely nice, and I just… I just can’t believe, I-I mean… after all this time…”
She leaned a bit into his space, causing him to flinch slightly.
_What’s.. happening?! Is she-_
“that you’d end up being…” her cheeks flushed, and she gently took his hand, pulling him even closer. Branch’s eyes widened.
_OH MY GAH!!_
Poppy’s smile grew wider “… like the greatest friend I could ever have!!” she all but yelled before pulling him into a bone crushing, and almost as equally, soul crushing bear hug.
His breath was lost… for more reasons than one, maybe forever for all he knew.
_**Friend.** _
The moment it took for Branch to pick up the pieces of his heart, felt like an eternity, but eventually, he slowly brought his arms up returning the hug, with understandably less enthusiasm and strength than his captor. | 0840a6ee67d1431eb475a811001e5a21 | ['8395d9ab1db541df819e94c2bc8f99d8'] | No Troll Left Behind
It was another clear day, not bright.. but as _sunny_ as it can get in Bergen town. Another day that the small gray child with his patched green overalls and messy hair continued with his anxious routine. A routine that so far consisted of collecting sticks, drawing in the dirt, looking over his shoulder repeatedly, and without fail jumping into the bushes at the sound of any other trollings or adults walking by, only to reemerge after their departure.
Queen Pearl had observed this from her royal pod many times, week after week, month after month. The boy was consistent that's for sure, and growing worse every day she feared. Her tourmaline eyes darted to her toddler, still asleep in her crib, and then back to the boy.
This boy, among other things had been prominent in her thoughts on many a sleepless night. Never seeking comfort in others, refusal of most help that's offered to him, she worried he may never get his colors back. Then there was _Chef_... another gnawing concern. She was growing bolder, and Pearl feared for the lives of her people.. including the trollings, her young daughter Poppy among them.
The Queen was still watching the gray youngster when King Peppy gently opened the door. Most days, the morning rays of sunlight always seemed to exist just for his wife, dancing off her sparkling silhouette, complementing her every gesture. Pearl always took his breath away, but he couldn't help but notice his wife, was once again not her usual exuberant self this morning. "Something the matter, darling?" he coaxed as he gently caressed her glittering pale pink shoulders, planting a kiss on the right one.
Pearl leaned into Peppy's comforting touch. "... It's Branch." she sighed. He gave her shoulders a loving squeeze. "I know. I worry for the boy too." he comforted. "Everyone mourns in their own way, it's only been a few months Pearl, maybe he'll get his col-"
"It's not _just_ that, Peppy." she cut him off, and turned around to look him in his warm sunset eyes, her own were misting over with anger. "It _wasn't_ even Trollstice when Chef ate Rosiepuff!" she seethed uncharacteristicly, before lowering her voice as to not wake Poppy.
His face was solemn, the dread was thick in his mind as well, Pearl knew that. "What if this is only the beginning?" she began, "Pep, _this_ is unprecedented. Now a child is staying gray! What if this is our future? A world full of desolate gray trollings? Our lives in constant fear, never knowing when Chef might desire a 'snack'?" she worried, tears shimmering down her cheeks and she sniffed. "No. No more trolls left behind." she asserted, lovingly squeezed her husband's hand, then slowly turned back to watch little Branch. "Something _must_ be done.... and soon."
"Something _will_ be done." Peppy assured, wrapping his arms around his mate.
**Author's Note:**
> This isn't the end, I have at least one or two more chapters planned. |
ba1a764246af4571a3eed3b5cd246a95 | ['83bce310248148ecb6db88dd1318c794'] |
Slick Back Hair
Foyer that opening to the theatre of the hotel was very crowded. Lots of celebrity, artists and actors. A short film screening in Edinburgh. The film was average at best in your opinion but you were sure that it was going to be praised by the friends of the producer, who is in the business for the last 35 years. People couldn't criticize your works easily if you are senior in this world. And for someone who is very new for all of these, when you have a daily column in a web magazine, finding new things everyday was a challenge. It was not your dream job but it was a good start for your career and as a newbie you were intending to keep it. Afterall, wearing nice dresses and attending this kind of events to find something to write was nothing hard or boring comparing to a desk job. And tonight, even if the film wasn't good and there were no friends at sight, luckily lots of drinks and foods at the after screening cocktail were making the situation more bearable. You got your drink and found a cocktail table to settle. You were alone and for a while, the only thing you were doing was drinking, glancing around and tapping to the music that plays on the background.
You were trying to find some nice words about the film for the tomorrow's post but just before finishing your first glass of wine, you saw something that made you froze on the spot, you saw him.
That was one of the perks of the job, your chance to meet the celebrities was more than the other people, your job was building around them after all. But apparently tonight was a first for you. You have met many people and have made connections with many celebrities, but for the first time since you started the job and for the first time in your life, you were in the same place as him, your favourite one by far.
There he was. Peter Capaldi.
In the same room as you. Damn hell.
When you realize you were looking at him directly during your trail of thought, you glanced away quickly and finished the rest of your wine in one big gulp. He was not alone and looks like his friends were keeping him busy with a heated conversation. It's not like he would notice you, notice your panic or your accelerating pulse from there but still, you were anxious as hell.
Without noticing doing it, you tidied your hair and your dress. The dress was not something eye-catching, nothing extra but it was a sleeveless black dress with a decent cleavage. Just to fit the event, one of your job dresses. You tried to breathe, tried to calm yourself. It was ridiculous, you thought. He was just there and you were here and oh my god you need to meet him immediately but with this panic, even just looking at him was hard. And you couldn't just go there to make a stupid move, no, you were there for your job, any stupid move that would effect your place in the business was out of question. You inhaled deeply, tried to calm down. When you felt a little bit better, you took the courage to look at him again. And instantly you were back in "that mood". How handsome he was, how the light in the room reflecting on his hair and his outline. You did this so many times before. The fangirl gaze. Looking for the every tiny detail about him. Of course with the distance between you and him, it wasn't easy and you couldn't zoom in like you did with your phone or laptop before. But he was there, in flesh. You reminded yourself again. You didn't need a photo now. You had to admit, he looks gorgeous. Better than any photo or scene. You couldn't believe that he can be handsome beyond your dreams. His hair was slick back, all the fluff was tamed and it was making the look in his eyes more dashing. His face was sharp. His three piece suit and button down shirt without a tie were his classic look but tonight with the adding of something that you can't exactly pinpoint, -maybe it's hair?- there was a rich and dark undertone about him. He was looking so Scottish.
All your attention was on his hair, on his face. What would his hair feel like between your fingers if you had a chance to stroke those glossy locks? Silky? With the product he put on them tonight, his hair was looking far from the usual fluff but they were blindingly beautiful, he was blindingly beautiful. He was -eyes bright with excitement- listening his friends and laughing at something they said. His laugh caused a warmness inside your ripcage.
It was insane, Peter Capaldi, just a few meters away. Oh god.
Suddenly you lost the track of your thoughts when you realized those eyes were turned to you now. You were staring at him openly and he was looking at you, the smile for his friends still on his face.
He saw you. Fuck.
It was for a brief moment and before you could react, his eyes were back to his friends and to not to keep your stupid blank stare, you turned away your eyes too. Fuck fuck fuck fuckk. Oh my god, he saw you looking, -staring!- at him! You weren't even sure what kind of expression he saw on your face! He saw you while you were drooling for him! Fucking hell! | 7e796815da7c4764b75546c4b27cd631 | ['83bce310248148ecb6db88dd1318c794'] | Without saying a word, you eye the cock in your hand. Oh. Of course. It makes sense, the position is perfect. But you can't shut your mouth. "Just me? But how?" you fish further, your hand stills on his cock. "How love? Tell me." You are so bloody obvious and he finally finds out what are you doing. He grins, flashing his teeth, showing the predator once again and bends over you. One of his hand lifts your chin to his face, brings your mouth against his. His hot breath mixing with yours as he whispers "Oh no, no darling. Not that." He almost kiss you, his tongue hovering on your lips. You try to follow him but he doesn't let you, his breath ghosts over your mouth as he withdraw slightly. He whispers again "You think I want you to suck me off, finish me quickly? You are wrong." His hand cradles your head, fisting in your hair. He tilts his head to the side, noting how you are not resisting to the hand holding your hair. He lifts an eyebrow like he is considering the options. "Not that I don't like to come deep in your throat. But you think this will be over soon? No, I told you that I have a better idea. We are not finish until I fuck the living daylights out of you. I will pound you into this mattress and you will love it, we both know you do."
You just look at him, trying to repeat the things he just said in your head. But he gives you no time. "Enough with this tshirt. Hands up!" He takes off your tshirt and sends it to a corner. "And these too." In no time, he slides from your lap and hooks his fingers into the waistband of your knickers, taking them off finally and then sends them to a random corner too. He settles between your legs as you feel exposed a bit. His hands wander on them. You lie back, bend your knees and put your feet on the bed, open your legs wider for him. "I can't believe you make me think that this would be a quickie." you grumble as he leans on you again, kissing your neck. He chuckles to the crook of your neck. "What? Quickie? I thought you got it when I said that I missed you." He kisses and licks that spot some more and moves his one hand to his groin. He holds his member and lines the head to the slide of your cunt. Damn teasing again. You raise your hips unintentionally, inviting him without word. He press the head directly on your clit, A mix of oversensitiveness and pleasure makes you moan faintly.You just came minutes ago, you are still so sensitive but the things he does to you, the way he looks at you when he is like that. The last thing you'd care is overstimuli. "Oh Peter... No more, please. Just..." you trail off.
"Still wet from before." he grunts as he press the head again and again, but never entering in.
"Oh yes. It hasn't been that long." you sound pained.
"I need to fuck you, right now." he tells you with unfocused eyes.
"Then do it. Please." You move your hips again.
And he thrusts deep in. With one easy smooth move. His hands come to your hips, pressing you to his cock tightly. Two moans blend together.
He lets go of your hips and puts his arms under your knees, moving your legs over his shoulders. He leans over you until he literally folds you and you're looking in each other's eyes directly. He puts his hands on either side of your head.
"You're so deep" you breath, holding his arms which are caging you. You feel so full, feeling every inch of him inside you, touching all the right spots.
Your bodies are so close. With a little move of his hips he can make your whole body move together. You know he likes the idea of dominating you only with his member. Pressed all the way inside, he moves forward more and watches how your shoulders move up and down with the force of his movements. You let him take you however he wants, you are at his mercy. And clearly he is relishing the every moment.
"You love it, don't you?" he purrs into your ear. "You love it when I'm heavy handed." He moves inside you, his hips move bit by bit and the little "-mmh!-mmh!-mmh!-" noises you make fit its rhythm. It's not enough and it's too much. "Tell me you love it." he insists, nibbling at your earlobe. A wanton moan is your only reply. His whole body flush against you, his utter attention on you and it's nearly overwhelming. You can feel your second orgasm this morning, almost there. You find your voice and tell him "Yes! Peter -uhh!- I'm close... Oh please... " as he pumps into you cruelly slow. |
b065f14154b9456a9b12f8721db4d6f7 | ['83cb97d6e31a440eab6426f27d1260bc'] | The One Where Arthur And Merlin Play an RPG
“What are you doing?” Arthur asked, coming around the desk to rest a hip against the desk. He was tired of looking at financial reports and wanted a distraction. Merlin was currently busy typing on his computer, a black screen with various colored text covering most of the laptop.
“It’s a game I play,” Merlin answered a bit distractedly. Then, “Interested in giving it a try?”
“Er,” Arthur said. Computers were mainly for typing up reports and reading pages and pages of reports and memos and meeting notes, not for fun, except for the occasional lolcats, which he would deny if anyone asked. Plus, after trying that gluten-free meal at Zebra he felt like he needed to be a little circumspect before just agreeing to anything Merlin asked. Six months of dating made Arthur wise to the ways of his significant other. “What kind of game?”
“It’s an RPG. A text-based RPG.”
“A… rocket propelled grenade?” Arthur felt pretty proud that he actually knew that acronym and couldn’t for the life of him figure out what Merlin meant.
Merlin laughed, a warm, open laugh that filled Arthur with a sort of happiness that he could make Merlin laugh like that. “God Arthur, sometimes I forget how computer illiterate you are,” he said fondly. “It’s a role-playing game.”
Arthur raised his eyebrows. He and Merlin had indulged in a bit of roleplaying once—he was the knight rescuing the gentleman from a marauding dragon and Merlin was the gentleman showing his full appreciation after being rescued—and he wasn’t sure he wanted Merlin doing that with strangers on the internet.
Merlin laughed again. “Not that kind of role-playing. It’s like World of Warcraft, but with text?”
Now that Arthur could understand. “That’s cool. A few of the guys on the football team were into that game. How do I start?”
“Come on,” Merlin beckoned him over to the couch, taking his laptop with him. They settled themselves besides each other, elbows knocking comfortably together. Merlin pulled up the website. “Here,” he gestured to Arthur. “Pick a name.”
“How about, Arthur?”
“It’s a fantasy RPG. Are you sure you want it to be Arthur?”
“Like King Arthur isn’t fantasy enough?”
Merlin rolled his eyes. “You’re such a narcissist. Type it in, set up a password and it’ll just deposit you in Chancy Square.”
“Wait,” Arthur said, hands poised uncertainly over the keyboard. “I just… type what I want to do? Where’s my avatar?”
Merlin laughed. “It’s text-based, no pictures.” He leaned over, shoulder pressing against Arthur’s. “Kill the goblin.”
“Um, okay.” Arthur looked warily at the screen again and typed ‘kill goblin’ and pushed enter. “I did it!” he pointed to the text on the screen. “My massive blow pounds the goblin! I got 250 exp. What’s that? Is that good?”
“Yep, you need those points to level up.”
Arthur snuck a peek at Merlin’s laptop. “Yours doesn’t look anything like mine,” he said.
“Oh, I’ve customized mine. I didn’t want to throw everything at you all at once, so you’re just using the default client. If you decide you like the game, we can work on setting your own personal settings.”
It was starting to sound like a lot of work to Arthur. “How about we go role-play by ourselves in the bedroom instead?”
Merlin moved their laptops to the coffee table and pulled Arthur down for a kiss. “Who says we need to go to the bedroom?” | 91247a6922534773bbee11d55cac7503 | ['83cb97d6e31a440eab6426f27d1260bc'] |
The One Where Arthur and Merlin Have Their First Date
Arthur knocked on the door of the modest flat and straightened his tie absently. He hadn’t felt this nervous on a date since his homecoming dance, junior year of high school when he took Lisa O’Loughlin, the hottest senior in the school. (It had gone spectacularly well and ended with a night to remember in the back of his dad’s car. He never told Uther about it. Uther had loved that car.) So yes, nerves were a bit foreign to him, but then again, he had never asked out his football buddy’s friend on a date at the end of a yoga class that he had been teaching, as convoluted as that thought was. The door opened.
“Arthur, hey,” Lance greeted him affably, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He gestured behind him, “Come on in; I think Merlin’s just about ready.”
“Are you just getting up?” Arthur asked, “Are you aware that it is nearly 8pm?”
“Yes,” Lance grumbled at him good naturedly. “There were… last minute set changes with Gwen’s show and guess who is the lucky guy in charge of overseeing all of that? So we were basically working all through last night and this morning to get ready for tomorrow’s opening.”
“The perks of being the boyfriend of the lead, I suppose,” Arthur said, following Lance inside.
“You’re coming, right?”
“Of course,” Arthur said, “I wouldn’t miss it.” He hesitated a second before soldiering on, “But, er, how long is it exactly? Because I’m completely in to support Gwen,” he said quickly, “But I was just wondering about a general timeline.”
“Hours,” Lance said with a straight face. “It’s like, at least 5 acts. It’s multiple scene changes. There are 2 intermissions due to length.”
Arthur stared at him for a long second and bit his lip. “That sounds great. Just. Great. I’m so looking forward to it, man.”
“Oh god, don’t torture the poor man,” Merlin said as he came down the stairs. “It’s just an hour,” he informed Arthur as he stopped a few feet away from him and Arthur had to suck in a breath because Merlin looked good. His hair was messily ruffled, a few strands falling in front of his eyes, making them appear even bluer. Arthur didn’t remember Merlin’s grin being quite so infectious and whole-hearted and just like that, his nerves kick in again.
“Uh,” he managed to squeeze out, “Hi, you look great.”
Merlin looked down at his blue striped button down (“It’ll bring out your eyes,” Gwen had said when she had picked it out of his closet) and dark jeans. “Thanks,” he replied, a little self-consciously, hand automatically coming up to brush the cowlicks on his head. He wiggled his stockinged feet. “Just let me grab my shoes and I’ll be ready to go.” He went to the front door and grabbed a pair of dark red Converses.
Arthur stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers (dark grey and cut to show off his arse fabulously, or so the salesgirl had said) and nodded amiably to Lance, “See you later then, mate.”
“Don’t forget protection!” Lance called from the living room.
“Oh fuck you,” Merlin groused good-naturedly. “Don’t wait up,” Merlin called to Lance as they exited the flat. Arthur hurried over to open the car door for Merlin. Merlin blushed as prettily as Arthur remembered, tips of his ears reddening. “Thanks,” he stammered, sliding in. “Where are we going?”
“Oh,” Arthur said, “Er, this place about ten minutes away, Nori. Have you heard of it?”
“Uh, yeah,” Merlin answered. “Avant-garde food stuff.”
“Yeah, I hope you’re up for that.”
Merlin shrugged, “I’m pretty easy,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. At that, Arthur nearly backed the car into the neighbor’s.
It was a tasting menu, so naturally dinner took a long time, but Arthur didn’t feel like time dragged at all. He and Merlin fell so easily in conversation that it felt absurd that they had only met a few days ago. “How do you know Lance?” he asked.
“Oh, we met in uni. Lance, Gwen and I were pretty much inseparable after the first week. See, uh, he was my RA freshman year. I met Gwen on our Outdoor Action trip so we were basically already thick as thieves. We might have gotten up to a little mischief involving wet floor signs and dining hall mugs but Lance managed to bail us out and I’ll deny any involvement if you ask.”
Arthur blinked a bit, “Wet floor signs?”
Merlin blushed, “Just a little bit of tomfoolery, that’s all.”
Arthur thought it was adorable. Merlin used words like tomfoolery and he pulled pranks with his friend Gwen, prank involving ludicrous objects.
“What about you?” Merlin asked.
“Hmm? Oh, Lance and I are on the same intramural football team.”
“Right,” Merlin said. “He said you’re really good, almost played professionally?”
“Yeah,” Arthur made a face. He didn’t like thinking about it but, “I went to uni on a football scholarship. Was going to sign with Manchester but junior year, championship finals I got spiked, hard, in the knee as I was going in for a goal. Fucking Val. My ACL never really recovered so there went that dream. I spent senior year changing to an economics major.”
“Oh,” Merlin said. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He lightly brushed Arthur’s hand with his own.
Arthur smiled, “It’s fine. I still get to play footy with Lance.”
“And now you work at Camelot Industries with Uther?” |
e97e1109325c4aed86f4ea491a699f47 | ['83d3bff0ff2b494f97b62d64684b4dc0'] |
The Huntress
**Author's Note:**
> Special thanks to Eri for making me write this thing.
CHAPTER I
Jimin was sat in the dorm staring blankly at the wall as memories of the day ran through his mind, the many times he messed up his choreography and they had to redo it or how he forgot his lines,etc. Jimin wanted to train more but everyone tried to convince him to get some rest and train again tomorrow but he couldn’t wait so he did the only thing that would cheer him up,breaking into their practice room and repeating the choreography over and over again till he nailed it.
Sadly the fates weren’t kind to him he kept making mistakes which made him more and more frustrated with himself.
‘One last go and I’m done. C’mon Park Jimin you can do it.’ He thought.
As he started the routine for the billionth time everything went well, until the last part where he wasn’t careful with his step which sadly led to him falling, he shut his eyes tightly as he prepared himself to feel the impact and yet there was nothing, he felt like he was floating.
Suddenly he felt like he was on stable ground but it most definitely wasn’t the practice room, as Jimin opened his eyes all he saw were trees.
Jimin couldn’t believe what he was seeing so his most rational thought was that it was a dream, it had to be how else could he get here? As Jimin got up he felt like he needed to explore this new place and so he did.
The forest was beautiful and green as though it hadn’t been touched by civilisation yet ,there were beautiful flowers everywhere that anyone would feel bad for even disturbing them so to say Jimin was enjoying himself would be an understatement. As he kept walking he saw a girl sitting by a river, her clothes seemed unusual, ancient even he contemplated going up to her but he decided that it was best to leave her alone. As he started to walk away he stepped on a branch and it snapped in half beneath his feet which got her attention.
The girl looked behind her and saw him,she grabbed her bow and aimed at him.
“Who goes there?!” She yelled yet he couldn’t understand her but the power and authority in her voice was prominent.
“I mean no harm.” He replied trying to hide how scared he was as he raised his hands up as proof.
The girl couldn’t understand him ether but she couldn’t help looking at his clothes,they seemed so weird but by the looks of it he didn’t have any weapons on him,he even looked like a helpless little kid but she didn’t want to risk anything so she still had her arrow propared.
“Stay where you are or I’ll shoot” She said as she started walking towards him.
Jimins fear wouldn’t let him move and he still had his arms up, he tried thinking of weapons,cars or horses that could show up and help him yet it was to no avail. The weirdly dressed girl kept getting closer and closer to him and he knew he needed to run or he’d be dead soon.
His adrenalin soon kicked in and he started running as fast as he could,the girl was right behind him and she shot an arrow at him which caught his hoodie.
‘Lady Artemis won’t be pleased with this.’ The girl taught as she walked up to the boy .
Jimin was panicking and not knowing what to, the girl was face to face with him now, he tried his best to keep his composure but it was sadly failing. He tried to understand to even recognise a word she was saying yet it was all for nothing.
“You don’t seem like you’re from anywhere i’ve been to… What should i do with you? Tsk this is annoying.” She spoke as she walked around him. “I could leave you here and let you get eaten by an animal, or sacrifice you to a god but you’re too cute for that,lucky you.” She finished. Normally she wouldn’t be speaking to someone like this but it was funny to her how he didn’t understand anything and she was messing with him.
As she got closer to him Jimin looked at her with a puzzled look,she got the arrow out the tree and he was set free. This confused him even more but the girl grabbed his arm and dragged him in a random direction. He tried yanking his arm away from her multiple times even cursed her out even more but she just kept walking and dragged him along with her.
Soon they came to a camp and there was a scary stern yet beautiful woman looking at the girl with the sternest most pissed off face Jimin has ever seen.
“Amara! What’s the meaning of this!?” The woman said sounding very pissed off.
Amara bowed and spoke.” I am so sorry to bring this boy my lady but I couldn’t let him stay in the woods by himself.” She said looking at the woman.
The woman walked up to Jimin and looked him up and down as though she was trying to see something.
“Girls, tie him up and bring him to my tent I need to talk to him alone.” The woman said and all the girls replied.
Soon Jimin was brought to her tent ready for whatever was to come.
“Sit.” The woman said and Jimin quickly complied.
‘Wait, how could i understand her?! She knows Korean?!’ Jimin thought.
“You’re not from this time period,are you?” She calmly spoke and yet her steely eyes seemed so cold and mad.
“Time period? Where am I?” Jimin said more confused than ever,
“Ancient Greece and I’ve been expecting you for a while.” She replied.” My dear brother,Apollo said we’d have an unexpected guest soon and here you are.” | 3112af3cd6cc494983816e3a19d29768 | ['83d3bff0ff2b494f97b62d64684b4dc0'] | Jimin stayed quiet looking down.
“How can i get back?” He spoke all of a sudden.
“If I knew I’d send you back myself but sadly I can’t let you go or bad fortune will come upon me and my huntresses.” The woman replied.
“Hu-Huntresses? You ar-”JImin was cut off.
“Artemis, that I am.”The huntress replied.
“But how? How can you understand me? This can’t be real, I need to wake up.” The boy kept mumbling to himself.
Artemis was getting more and more annoyed by him.
“Enough! This is a sad reality you have to face dear boy. And I can understand you due to the fact us gods are everywhere,at every time, in every religion under different names, we know all and see all and sadly your fate has been tangled in a different time,written in stone as they say but you need to face it because if you don’t others will suffer and die. Woman up and face it you coward.” The goddess angrily said before making her huntresses take him to a guarded tent.
That night Jimin didn’t sleep at all, the conversation with the goddess kept going through his head. Nothing made sense to him, how the fuck is this happening to him? What did he do in his past life to deserve this?
‘ What a way to end a shit day?...’ Was his last thought before passing out in the early morning. |
3667c86b97a94dfab7e6946a34e95475 | ['840f0ea4e63d4fbeb0a378c1682f828f'] |
Wrath Of The War Lordess(Wyvargon Legends)-Chapter 2:Desires
Wyvargon Legends
Saga 1
Wrath Of The War Lordess
Chapter 2: Desires
Fate is a rather action prefered maiden,she never tells her plans directly but her actions make an impact that spares no one, that’s what Lux had thought when he saw the emptied part of Luna Castle town,
“So the people started evacuating...this is worrying.” said Lux as his griffin steed flew down and merely walked, lux looked around while scanning the area, the once living city reduced to empty buildings, each building had matched the astral theme and elegantly darker purple that emulated the stars and space, but the dust that covered the town gave it a faint feeling, like they were dragged out by beasts that craved their flesh, that fear would not be stated as he further in saw streak trails of blood and claw marks, scorching embers and severed scales. “Just how many people escaped?”
From the northern part of the town, Kassy had just entered the area and had found a cracked opening in Luna Castle, her mission at the time was to find out the fate of the Luna Royals since Kassy’s Father Deiji was a staunch supporter of King Geralt and Queen Dhalia, once entered the inside did not look as dead as the town, there was echoes of voices from varying emotions, kassy would then hide from view as she saw some maids scurrying but their expression indicated that the order they are to carry is frightening, she followed them merely by following the sounds of their heels, she had found that their trail had ended as another voice can be heard, “This tea is fucking cold!” said an edlerly woman voice, “you know she dislikes sugar and why is ther no ‘other blood’ in here?” then a smack can be heard, “go back and fix this piss.” considering the one way hall Kassy had to run and escape,
Shit i’m gonna get caught before finding out anything...wait other blood?
Bizarrely the way out was sealed and she only saw one way which was the way the maid came out of, “I’ve really closed myself in did I.” she went through and she had quickly sprinted through and fthe other maids were scared as a random armed warrior would scare any non combatant, or so kassy thought, she came to a halt as one of the maids had thrown a dagger at her but she had blocked the incoming strike with her shield, “Explain your reason for coming!” said the maid, she clearly had a higher position since most maids that don't have a weapon are lower in rank, Kassy while keeping her shield up looks her in the eye as if to see if her loyalty is with the crown but Kassy does not realize who really is wearing the crown, “First tell me, is Dhalia still queen?” she asks and when that was asked the maid sees her like she was asked a stupid question, “How long were you under your rock wench?”
“watch your language, such words are unprofessional for a maid.”
“hmph! Then disarm me and your intentions will be known and i will listen.” with that she had another dagger slide onto her hand and she had closed in and thrusted the daggers, the clang sounds of metal clashing echoes making the surrounding maids run away, and close the doors and once it was just them Kassy took her axe out and swung down and had cracked the stone floor as a shockwave had blown away the surrounding area causing the food to fly all over the place and even making some of the oranges bounce around and hit both combatants, “ugh that’s the last time i’ll allow myself to have balls against my face.” said the maid,
“Something tells me you prefer lady balls.” Kassy says
“If you're referring to your breasts maybe.” she says now smiling slightly but she still attacks but slashing but kassy meets those strikes with her shield but she didn’t anticipate that her leather shield would break and in a split second she got her axe and smacked her hand away and disarmed her and the other hand that did have her other dagger, she had quickly slaps away her dagger with her hand axe,
“so will you listen?” she says pointing her hand axe at her,
“It’s only fair that i do. Quickly this way.” she says as she points approaches the cauldron where the fire places and pulls down a lever that activates and as the fireplace does down a hidden staircase going down, Kassy does follow her and her mind starts to wander,
So this is what the maids use to hide or even traverse throughout the castle. Wait something seems off…..
When the downward spiral of stairs begins to lead to a room that lights up the dark halls, and when it opens with a creak the light had someone who Kassy had known, her uncle Deiiji Jr,
“Kassy?” he said surprised and he closed in for a hug,
“Uncle Deiiji?! What happened to you? My father said you were abandoning us!.”
“sadly you’re father is a dunce and assumes things with malintent. Truth is i only left to be with my husband, he’s well i love him so much he’s encouraged me to do what my father and mother didn’t encourage me to do, i never wanted to be a knight and dancing is what frees me.”
“yes but it seems like you have trained, i mean you have shoes embedded with spikes that will do extra damage when kicking,.”
Deiiji Jr showed her the boots he wore that gave him a unique way of fighting,
“well since punching is not my forte kicking my way around has served me well...especially since that cruel lordess has taken over.” | af56feea34c14f66b4af9f36617eb20c | ['840f0ea4e63d4fbeb0a378c1682f828f'] | He takes a deep breathe and he’d be a fool to not allow him access to his body as Greil is someone he’d love to have around,
“alright i’ll accept.” he says caressing Greil’s pecs, “and since we’re away from prying eyes, why dont you show me your big Urvan?”
“hahaha! How long were you waiting to use that line on me?” he says lifting Svartur up
“quite a while, now…” he presses his hands against the firm muscles that are his pecs, Svartur love a good muscular chest on a man and Greil had them, he gave them a kiss and a teasing lick,
“mmm you are quite excited to do this are you?” he says blushing caressing his body as he kept him off the ground,
“hehe such a big muscular man like you i’d be mad to turn down a chance.” he then notices something poking him, it was rather huge,
“hmm is that?” he then sees that it was Greil & his very sizable boner,
“oh my! Is that all you?” he says now very fascinated,
“yes but you better set it free.” he encourages him to do so,
Svartur does and lets his cock out as it was worthy of such a man, 8 inches long, 4 ½ inches thick,
“wow! Its HUGE!” he says as it’s in his hands and he gently rubs it,
Greil then lets him down so he can properly suck his cock,
“i'm gonna enjoy putting this in my mouth.” he says before as he starts licking his big cock, Griel moans as he has not had a mouth around his cock in a while, he gently pushes his head forward so Svartur can swallow his cock, the spit from his mouth wets his cock as Svartur feels up Greil’s powerful thighs, and even groping his muscular but plump ass,
“hmmm you’re doing good boy, no one else has been able to make my cock stay hard.” he moans out as he now gets to thrusting deeply into his mouth, Svartur was surprised he can even swallow his huge cock, his moanings may have been muffled but they were ever so seductive, his moans and Greil’s grunts make Svartur hard, he wiggles out of his belt and pants and out is his ass, and this got Griel interested, he bent down and started fingering his hole and this caused a bit of pain as Svartur hasnt had anything up his ass in quite a while, he thrusts deeply his finger in his ass as Svartur keeps deeply sucking forward and back but keeping it in but Greil wanted more.
“I’m gonna taste that ass before i ram my cock in that ass” he says as he lifts him up and presses his ass against Greil’s face, his tounge swirls around and the fury of his toung makes Svartur moan like crazy,
“Aaaaaah! Oh gods! Griel! Aaaaahhh just fuck me already!” screams out Svartur.Would he regret it? Nope.
“You asked for it.” he smirks as he positioned Svartur and aimed his cock at his hole, he gave him a deep tounge kiss before he WHAM! Shoves his cock inside his tight hole, “Oh gods! Your hole is super tight Svartur! Im gonna cum so much !’ he moans out as he thrusts, bangs his slowly loosened hole, but his cock meets some pleasurable resistance from Svartur’s hole, the banging of flesh and the wet noises makes them both hot and bothered,
“I’m gonna cum!” moans out Svartur as he weakly holds onto Greil,
“Not before me!” he says as he thrusts more powerfully thus making Svartur more loose and pleasured,
“aaaaahh hope you like getting creampied!” he says as his thrusting doesnt stop but he starts cumming inside his hole, his thrusting gets even powerfull, “aaaaaaahh gods! Griel i feel so filled up! Please give...aaaahh...more i want your seed.” Svartur reaches his limit as starts cumming and shoots his seed that lands on both of their stomachs, but Griel finished creaming his hole after and he keeps the tired summoner in his arms,
“so are you satisfied Summoner?” Griel asked panting,
“yes i am. Say would you like to join the order? You can keep using my hole.” his offer gave him at first a look of skepticism but then a smile,
“Keep this between us.” Griel says as he presses his head against Svartur’s and they seal that promise with a kiss.
2. Vanguard Ike's Steamy Invite
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Svartur gets a hot invitation from ike and well no pun intended, it will get steamy
Vanguard Hero-Ike
The week after the Day of Devotion Festival, Greil stayed as he’s been useful for not only fighting but he’s been teaching the others Fury 4, he and Bartre got along as well as odin.
Svartur fondly remembers the intense sex he’s had with Griel, he wondered if any other hero was willing to pound his hole, but right now his focus was to help canas be better in combat and even find him a S support partner. “so you prefer someone who’s a green type hero?” he asked Canas,
“Yes but i kinda want him to be not so scary, Surtr scares me and Lewyn makes me angry.”
“why though? Has he been playing 50 cent again?”
“no it’s just things get into heated debate when he starts talking magic theory with me.” Canas seems semi frustrated as he’s usually very passionate when it comes to magic.
“hmm how about Spring Alfonse? He’s been getting pretty beefy recently.”
The suggestion of alfonse made the mage blush which likely isn't an objection on his part. |
6b5d2e74ab8d4608b7309e8dd96960b6 | ['8429f3bf4c204992a9ad90f3b8477e51'] | “Did you go to Watt’s execution?” Seokjin asks, slowly, like he’s testing the waters.
Namjoon slings his arm across his face to cover his eyes.
“No, I-I didn’t. Something came up.”
“But I thought you—” Seokjin starts.
“Can we talk about it in the morning?” Namjoon asks gently, trying not to sound sharp or irritated. He’s not; he’s just profoundly exhausted. “I’ll explain everything then.”
“Okay. Of course.”
There are a few moments of silence, not overtly tense but still thrumming with restlessness and disquiet.
“Do you want to talk about the dream?” asks Seokjin.
Namjoon drops his arm from across his face. “No, it was just, the same it has been the last few nights. My dad. I thought, I thought now that Watt’s gone that the nightmares would stop, but…” he trails off.
Seokjin hums. “They were probably never connected,” he reasons.
“I just thought…”
Seokjin can maybe sense how he’s working himself up into agitation. “Hey, we don’t have to talk about it right now. We’ll have all the time in the world in the morning. Let’s just try to get some sleep, okay?”
“Okay, yeah. Yeah. You’re right.”
They trail off into silence, and for a moment Namjoon thinks Seokjin’s fallen asleep as his breathing deepens.
“Namjoon?” comes Seokjin’s voice suddenly.
“Yeah?”
“You probably could have slept in a real bed tonight, at the motel. You’re an idiot for being here. But thanks. For, um, being here anyways.”
“There’s nowhere else I’d want to be.”
“If you have any other nightmares, I’ll be here, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Do you want to...like, hold my hand? To fall asleep?” Seokjin offers, reluctantly, like he’s saying this against his better judgment.
Namjoon doesn’t know why this makes him so embarrassed, but he feels his cheeks and the tips of his ears flush with heat. He shrinks in on himself protectively, hoping it shields his expression from Seokjin’s view. His injured hand sticks out a little awkwardly where he’s held it out gingerly from his body so it doesn’t touch anything else.
“Nope!” he squeaks out, his voice muffled from how he’s curled up close to his chest with his face buried in his arms.
Seokjin clucks his tongue disapprovingly. “All right, if you insist,” he scoffs teasingly, “just go ahead and pass up on this one-in-a-lifetime opportunity! I bet Hot Nurse Abraham would have taken up my offer!”
“Oh my god, what do I have to do to get you to stop talking about Hot Nurse Abraham?”
“Hold my hand, probably,” Seokjin shrugs. “Are you jealous? Of me and Abraham? I’d probably be too.”
It was just like Seokjin to make a sincere offer to comfort him, nervously, only to immediately douse the situation in playfulness to detract from any vulnerability he’d displayed.
“I’m not jealous and I’m not holding your hand! Just go the hell to sleep!”
“Okay, but, I would just like to remind you about how a mere twenty-four hours ago I was on death’s very doorstep.”
“Please just fuck off.”
“Fine,” Seokjin heaves a dramatic sigh. “Good night, then.”
“Good night,” Namjoon says, clipped.
They settle back into silence, seriously this time. Before he closes his eyes, he notices how Seokjin has dangled his hand over the side of the bed to hang limply, and with a pang, he realizes that it was, of course, on purpose, to let Namjoon know that he really could cling to his hand like a lifeline if he needed, to offer him the choice without forcing anything.
Namjoon wants to take his hand so badly and weave their fingers together. But he shouldn’t. He can’t. He doesn’t. He stares at the soft curl of Seokjin’s fingers before he turns on his side. Like so many other times in his life, instead of acting, Namjoon stays scared and stays still. Before he drifts back to sleep, he hopes he dreams about being the type of person with enough courage to allow himself the same comfort from Seokjin that he wants to give away in return.
Namjoon sleeps restlessly, never able to get fully back to sleep, tossing and turning as he skates across the thin line between delirium and consciousness. He dreams of Watt and his father, but never deeply enough for any narrative to form; instead their faces, their voices dement and twist on a sick loop for hours. It’s somewhere near seven when he calls it, and slips from the sleeper chair to his feet. Seokjin’s hand still hangs over the edge of the bed. Namjoon swallows against the lump in his throat and leaves Seokjin to sleep peacefully.
He needs caffeine, something to pull him out of this sluggish stupor. He doesn’t want to stray too far from Seokjin, and all he can find on that floor is a decades-old coffee vending machine. It’s one he anticipates will only dispense a few ounces of watery espresso into a styrofoam cup in some sick mockery of a latte. After he’s fed quarters to the machine and gotten his eight ounces of something coffee-adjacent, he heaves himself down on a chair in a small waiting area as he begrudgingly sips at his drink, still scalding. He goes at it too quickly and he burns the tip of his tongue. He winces, but his limbs have always been too gangly, too difficult for him to control especially when he’s tired. As he recoils, the coffee sloshes over the lip of the cup to splash across his lap. This, of course, makes him jump up and accidentally upend the rest of the contents over the floor.
“Fuck!” he hisses, swiping at the unfortunate wet stains on his pants. " _Oh, no, Kim Namjoon,_ ” he sighs, “why are you like this?” | 3537470d2bbc4b9091675c550b459cdc | ['8429f3bf4c204992a9ad90f3b8477e51'] | The emotion in Namjoon’s voice is too raw and Seokjin has to look away because his feelings are too big, too intense for him to know how to handle. If he tries to digest anything that’s happened over the last twenty-four hours he’ll probably combust.
Namjoon can sense how close to the edge of hysteria Seokjin's teetering, and, like he always does, steps into help. He helps Seokjin sit on the ground and just holds his hand. He helps him breathe. He helps the panic to ebb.
“Some fucking FBI agent I am, huh?” Seokjin chuckles bitterly after he finally has a handle on his breathing about fifteen minutes later. He's starting to feel tethered to the ground again, but he hates that feeling too. As he bats away a tear, he can’t tell if he’s beginning to cry out frustration, or of disappointment at his own weaknesses, or maybe disappointment with who he is fundamentally as person. “Jesus, how much fucking training did we go through specifically not to react like _this_?” He gestures up and down at himself, holding up his shaking hands. “I really fucked this one up start-to-finish, huh?”
“You’re literally in shock right now, Jin. You don’t have any control over how your body reacts when you’re in shock. And it’s not just you. You're not in this alone. I’m right here with you too, okay?” Namjoon replies, holding up his own tremoring hands before patting at his ashen face.
“But if you're in shock, you're only, you’re only this way because I let all of this happen. None of this had to happen, and I knew it would go to shit, but I still did it. I still could have gotten you killed. Shouldn’t I be better? Aren’t we supposed to be better than this? I-I’ve thought I was fine for _years._ I’ve assumed I’d be better than this _for years_ , but the second I got the chance, I let everything get fucked. I fell apart. And for what?” Seokjin asks in despondence, his eyes wide, his head shaking as the reality of the situation keeps washing over him. “I killed him and — I keep looking at his blood on your face and I keep thinking _‘The only reason this happened was because of me. I did this to him.’”_
_I did this I did this I did this,_ Seokjin’s brain loops.
“You’re not responsible for anything Poole did. He acted on his own.”
The response frustrates him, but Seokjin doesn’t know what he actually wants Namjoon to say, if he wants to be reassured—lied to—and told it’s not his fault, if he wants Namjoon to scream at him, to tell him he’s fucked up, that he was wrong, that there's blood on his hands, that it will be fine, that he’s forgiven, that Namjoon’s not okay either. He wants all of it. He wants a do-over.
When Seokjin doesn’t react, Namjoon reaches forward and takes Seokjin’s hand between both of his and presses a kiss to the back of his palm, rough from the chapped skin on his lips.
“Jin, can you look at me?"
It's hard, and he doesn't want to look, or be seen, but Namjoon is waiting to meet his gaze with a tenderness in his eyes.
"You’ve never hurt me, Jin.”
The more distance he gets from the shooting, the more he's able to focus. He drinks water, talks to Namjoon, and waits for the shock to wear off. Yoongi asks them to stay put while he talks to his superior on the phone. Seokjin is jumpy and restless. He's exhausted and itching to leave the bus yard, but knows how long all of the boring behind-the-scenes drudgery takes to process in the wake an event like this. It’s going to be a while before they’re home.
Seokjin and Namjoon sit in the back of Namjoon’s car while they wait, engine off, the only light coming from the last dregs of the afternoon sun. Namjoon dozes in the back seat, his snoring crescendoing and decrescendoing in a weird, soothing rhythm.
Seokjin has his head thrown backwards against the headrest with his eyes closed, breathing through the pressure of a headache building behind his left eye. It’s the first truly quiet moment he’s had all day, but he can't drift off. And the longer they have to wait, the more restless he becomes. He needs a distraction, something to focus on. He thinks glumly about his ruined phone, wishing he could kick Jungkook’s ass in a word puzzle game to kill the time. Jungkook—
“Shit!" Seokjin sits up abruptly when the thought hits him and reaches over to jostle Namjoon awake. "Have you texted Jungkook or Hoseok? Shit, Jungkook texted me forty thousand times this morning but I—my phone.”
“Oh, shit! I spaced it!” Namjoon blanches, looking suddenly very alert as he pats at his jeans and slips out his phone from the back pocket. He taps on the screen and groans when it lights up. Namjoon holds it towards Seokjin as he scrolls through the myriad notifications waiting on his lock screen.
“Oh my god,” Namjoon groans, “there have to be fifty from each of them, even Taehyung and Jimin. I put everyone on Do Not Disturb after you got attacked. I haven’t talked to any of them since six or seven am. Oh no. We really scared the shit out of them.”
“God, we’re never going to hear the end of this,” Seokjin whines. “Here, give me your phone. Let me call Kook and get it over with.”
“Already dialing,” Namjoon confirms with a nod, handing Seokjin his phone. |
906ef58dede94479aa08367596e06306 | ['843d1bda000a4397b4c376adeea38d6f'] | A notion of who I should be.
Now I’ve seen the light.
And I am breaking free.
You can’t change me(I’m Stronger now)
You can’t try and break me (So much Stronger now)
I finally know
who I am meant to be
and it doesn’t involve what you think is best for me.
I am my own life (I’m stronger now)
Never give up the fight (So much Stronger now.)
What you see of me
is not meant to be
and without you now
I am Stronger now.
Backstage
“Wow Riot that was incredible!” Minx exclaimed. “ I don’t think I have ever heard such an amazing song even from you!”
“And considering all your songs are good that is very high praise indeed” Rapture stated.
“Thank you my dears, and if it is one think I learned when it comes to someone keeping you down.”
“There are no excuses.”
FIN | 8fa1f057895b491088d6964157239a7f | ['843d1bda000a4397b4c376adeea38d6f'] |
No Excuses
**Author's Note:**
> Hi this is my first fic i've done for anything in ages. This is partially based off how I hope the Jem comic someday does this story. The song I wrote myself and is meant for the comicverse in my head.
As Jem and the two Llewelyns walked out of the hospital into the LA heat many thoughts were running through the pink haired pop stars mind.
Although Riot’s father had insisted his “treatment” of his son,although she very much doubted his use of the word, was to keep his family together she was beginning to have second thoughts as flashes of their conversation they had the previous night.
Maybe I was wrong to give Mr Llewelyn a chance. Jem thought to herself. After all he did assault Riot at the party .
Then it hit her.
Mr Llewelyn never cared about what his son or even wife wanted.
All he wanted was a punching bag.
All he had ever done was abuse.
Well he wouldn’t harm him anymore
As if almost on cue Riot and Mr Llewelyn began to argue again.
“ I hope you’re proud of yourself!”
“ Me? you’re the one who was shouting!”
“Well none of this would have happened if you had never shown-”
“ENOUGH”
The roar of Jem was enough to stop both of them in their tracks, even Jem was surprised what had come out of her.
“Jem i’m sorry it’s just that my father-”
“Don’t worry it’s directed at you Riot,” Jem took a deep breath and turned to the military man it’s yours Mr. Llewelyn.“
"Me?” he inquired angrily. “But I thought I told you it’s his fault for getting into music and abandoning his destiny.”
“Don’t give me that act, last night I took your son home and he told me everything all of the controlling,all of the lying all of the abuse ALL of it."
“Dad, Jem is right,” Riot finally spoke up “Even when I was young I could tell your love would only be offered if I was your perfect little robot and did exactly as you said otherwise, you could never give less of a shit about what I wanted!”
A horrible silence fell as the slap of Riot’s fathers hand flew through the air.
“You watch your mouth! I thought this Jem woman would be a decent influence on you for once but it turns out she’s just as bad as you are!”
Jem being unable to take anymore walked in between the two.
“ Mr. Llewelyn please leave right now.”
“You can’t tell me what to do with my son!”
“Your son clearly wants you to leave as you have done nothing but make the familys situation worse”
“That is correct” Riot stated “And as soon as you do don’t you ever come near me or mother ever again.”
“How? you can’t even stay in the army how can you even tell me what to do?”
Jem realized then it would take a little bit of holography to get him to leave.
“Synergy” she whispered “project a hologram of a security guard”
“Yes Jem”
Within a fraction of a second a hologram of hospital security was summoned.
“Sir, you are loitering on public property we will need to ask you to leave.”
“But I came here for my wife! You can’t get me to do anything!”
“Sir if you don’t leave you will be under arrest for tresspassing.”
Thankfully, that seemed to do the trick as after a few mumbled swear words Riot’s father finally left.
“Wow” breathed Riot ‘They sure showed up in the nick of time didn’t they?”
“They sure did” Jem blushed “In the meantime i’ll try to talk to the hospital in order to get them to allow you in again.”
“I hate to ask you another favor but, I was planning on after my mother fully recovers, helping her get a divorce and restraining order against my father so he can’t do something like this again.”
“Oh I would be more than happy to.”
“But before I go I was wondering,” Riot asked as a rather confused expression crossed his face. “Who is Synergy?”
“Oh it’s nothing.”
A few days later the Holograms were preparing to go to yet another Stingers event they were invited to.
“ This is outrageous!” “I can’t believe the Stingers are being so nice to us all of a sudden!” exclaimed Kimber
“That is true but those Misfits will be there at the concert and I just can’t trust them.” sighed Aja. Although it was true they getting along somewhat better with the Stingers these days Misfits relations were… still somewhat frosty.
“Oh Aja don’t worry!” “ I talked with Stormer and she promised to keep Pizzazz in line to the best of her ability.”
“I bet that took a lot of work especially with Jetta as well.” said Raya who knew first hand what mischief she was capable of. In fact just last week Jetta had tried to run a write in campaign for mayor of Los Angeles and Roxy had just about killed her when it failed.
“Yep but Stormer is my best friend and I know she wouldn’t let me down over anything.”
“Kimber.” Shana smiled “Remind me later I haven’t thanked you enough for staying friends with Stormer.”
As the concert was about to begin murmers echoed across the crowd. Apparently, the Stingers were about to debut a new number.
“Ladies and gentlemen please settle down so my voice can reach you.” Riot stated. “I would like to dedicated this song to someone who helped me finally see what was wrong with my life all along,and what really matters.”
Riot winked at Jem, and she couldn’t help but blush. Thankfully Pizzazz was too enamored by Riot to notice.
Stronger Now
When I was young I always thought you were right.
You kept me trapped in a dark endless night.
Always had |
de097a4c73c24e168ce8d1202f87c4b4 | ['843d213bc53b4989b1f18e9512f5226f'] | “I am different from my housemates, Dumbledore!” Tom cries, frustrated. “They know nothing—the pure-bloods are too sheltered by their parents, and the few half-bloods we have are happy to go on believing that everything is just fine. They are blinded by their false senses of security. They know not how the war rages on in the Muggle world, have no clue the magnitude of the threat that Grindelwald poses to everyone!”
“I can’t say I realised how much you cared about politics.”
“It’s not politics. It’s a bloody _war._ ”
“And I would be foolish not to acknowledge it as such,” Dumbledore says with an amused smile. “If I may be quite frank...and I have told this to no other, Tom, so you have no need to feel left out...Grindelwald and I have a complicated history.”
“You knew him?”
“We were close.”
Tom stiffens at the implication. “ _Close?_ ” he repeats accusingly.
Dumbledore turns to gaze out the window at the darkened sky. “I rather think it is too late for such a serious subject,” he remarks conversationally. “Perhaps we may continue at another time. You ought to be in bed, Tom. Lost sleep does not make for top marks, and I would be loath to cause you to lose your spot.” He makes to stand and dismiss Tom, but Tom jumps up first, grabbing Dumbledore’s arm through the soft wool of his sleeve. Dumbledore looks genuinely caught off guard, and for a brief moment, Tom revels in it. Despite the suddenness of Tom’s action, Dumbledore does not pull away.
Tom knows he’ll regret it in the morning, but he’s also convinced he’ll regret it more if he doesn’t.
In a lose-lose situation, why not do what he wants? It is a sort of calculated impulsiveness, in that entirely Slytherin (and definitely not Gryffindor) way.
“I think I meant what I said, after all,” Tom says, holding on firmly, a fire burning newly in his gaze. “I swear to you, Dumbledore, no matter what you think of me, whether you want my assistance or not, I _will_ take Grindelwald down. You? You need only watch.”
It is no Unbreakable Vow, but the words are heavy all the same, a magic of their own—a promise.
Tom releases his grip and rushes out of the tower, leaving Dumbledore behind. As he leaves, he catches the briefest glimpse of absolute bewilderment on Dumbledore’s face. This time, however, he doesn’t revel in the least at having provoked a reaction. He returns to the dorms, not so carefully in his haste, stumbling blindly into another’s bedpost along the way to his bed. He rolls on top of the covers and scrunches a pillow in his face.
He screams. (The silencing charm is still up.)
“Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ ”
Gryffindor may as well be his secondary house. It may as well be his _actual_ house, if not for his heritage, his actions tonight have been so rash. (What was it the Sorting Hat had said about the founder’s blood returning at last?)
At least it’s for something he truly cares about. It’s not entirely stupid and meaningless, and he does stand to gain plenty if he succeeds. (There might be hope for him yet.) The responsibility that currently lies on Dumbledore’s shoulders, along with all the fame and respect that comes with it? Tom will seize it all.
But, hell, where has his sense of self-preservation disappeared to? As confident as he felt mere minutes ago, it _is_ ridiculous to think that he could defeat Grindelwald as he is now. Dumbledore wasn’t entirely wrong about that. Tom can’t just abandon his studies for it, not unless he wants to upend everything he’s worked for in the past several years at Hogwarts.
Dumbledore would be disappointed, too, if he did something as drastic as that. Tom can’t afford to alienate him, even as he tells him to stand aside and watch. What would be the point of it all then?
Then again, it’s likely that the war will continue for a while yet, at least on the magical front, if not the Muggle one as well. Tom still has time. He can plan and prepare carefully. He will train his Knights to support him in his quest accordingly, and when the time comes, he’ll either snatch the right opportunity as it arises or simply create it himself. The absence of a discernible opening would hardly stop him. He would do anything…
…Oh, God. Tom—Tom does love him, doesn’t he? And they both thought him incapable. True, it is far from anything Dumbledore would likely identify as love under normal circumstances, but…
_to cherish and hold above all else…_ _
_ _to desire a closeness like none other…_
_to prove himself… worthy._
For whom else, other than himself, would Tom take down someone as powerful as a Dark Lord? Dumbledore is certainly not an extension of Tom, though at times it seems to him as if Tom wishes he were.
Because, then, Tom could say with certainty that Dumbledore is _his._
Tom still hates him. He hates him more because of it, this Chinese finger trap of a connection they have. Even knowing that to ‘relax’ may be the solution to their release, both continue on stubbornly, refusing to admit defeat.
Tom hates him, but his love for him is greater. He loves him desperately and with immeasurable need. (Or why else would Tom fall so far as to seek his company when Tom should rightfully be asleep? He was never one to find comfort in others.)
What a joke this is. (Tom doesn’t regret it, not yet. He meant every word he said. Tom may be a skilled liar, but that does not mean he cannot keep to his promises.) | 7ed4434bf99b472f8fd0f931d9fb8041 | ['843d213bc53b4989b1f18e9512f5226f'] | “Smile, Cissy, that’s it,” Bella said, placing her hands along the bottom of her sister’s face and tilting her head upwards to face the mirror. Narcissa smiled, her lips turning gracefully upwards, and it was rote; practised. There was no sincerity, but that was just how Druella wanted it. Picturesque and perfect, unaffected by the tides of her emotions. Or, at least, so long as one looked no further to see the sharp edges of shattered glass beneath.
“I’m so glad you’re back.”
* * *
The venue itself was just as extravagant, if not more so. Painted arches draped full of vines and angel’s trumpets adorned the courtyard. The best decorator in town had been commissioned—no less was acceptable. Emerald green and dainty white drowned her surroundings, from the banners hanging at the balconies above to the embroidery of the napkins.
They weren’t her colours. Her family bore a proud red and black. Red like their blood, and the black as pure as it too.
Her face was obscured by a veil as long and unmanageable as the train of her dress. She should have been a queen at the height of her reign, but all she could think of was a dress-up doll stuffed into an ill-fitting smock.
It wasn’t right. It wasn’t _her,_ only a mockery of the woman she was, sold off like a trophy. She wouldn’t want this, if not for Druella’s honeyed words and coercion.
Did she want this? (She had been swayed so easily.)
She swallowed her nerves, and they slid down her throat like poisonous spines.
The sun peered dimly through the cloud cover as she stepped out into the open. A light breeze lifted her veil before letting it down again. She saw Druella across the lawn, her father beside her, laughing and talking over tall glasses of champagne. Surrounding them were several groups of guests, some friends of the family, other various relations both close and distant. In the background, a violinist played his instrument, musical notes dancing across his fingertips.
She took a deep breath, or at least one as deep as her bodice would allow her. It felt incomplete, but she needed it regardless.
“Father,” she called. At the same moment, through the fine netting of her veil, she spotted Lucius, his hair a head full of platinum blond, almost as white as the cloth piled on her, contrasted against his obsidian black robes. His hair was pulled back into a single elegant ponytail that fell down his back. They looked like polar opposites. Spying her, too, he threw her a playful smirk. She returned it thinly, her cheeks straining to maintain her façade.
She began to walk, but there were neither downy dream-clouds nor the light fluttering of butterflies in her chest. It felt wrong—nothing like how the other girls had described it.
_Marriage._ It caught in her throat.
Her heels were too high, sending stabs of pain into the sides of her feet. She wobbled but stayed upright, holding her head up proudly, her shoulders pushed back, as she had been instructed.
When she made it halfway down the aisle, across the silvery carpet, a guest caught her attention. She spun towards them in a sudden jerking motion, nearly sending herself toppling over to the ground, but caught herself, along with her breath.
She was a glowing bonfire in the night, brighter than the sun itself. In her arms was a bushel of flaming torches, or rather, Narcissa saw as she blinked in disbelief, a bouquet of orange tiger lilies just like those she had once tended to.
“Lily!” Narcissa cried. She was no longer the image of perfection Druella had envisioned. Her heart was in tatters, bared for the world to view, her walls swept away by rushing floodwaters. “Lily, is it you?” Narcissa threw herself at her, not stopping to wonder if she was real, or uncaring. She gripped her arms desperately. Behind her, her veil had fallen to the ground. Her pristine crown had slipped too.
“Cissy?” the woman asked, a dreamy expression on her face. “Oh, Cissy, it is. And it’s you, too.”
“You’re different,” Narcissa breathed, pulling Lily in against her chest. She had no wings, but she was soft. Warm; alive. Narcissa’s heart raced. Words spilled from her lips.
_Lily, Lily, Lily._
“I thought the garden burned down. I saw it when I was freed, the charred ground and white ashes. It was horrible. I was so _lost._ ” Her chest ached with remembered grief. Her eyes were wet. “Leave with me, Lily. Let us leave together. I won’t marry Lucius.”
They were pulled apart roughly before Narcissa could so much as gasp in surprise.
“Miss Black,” a guard spoke. With a jolt, Narcissa became aware of her surroundings again. The audience was whispering, and Druella watched her with undisguised disgust. Lucius looked bewildered.
Bellatrix, though frozen, displayed nothing but betrayal. “ _Lily,_ ” she mouthed, pained realisation day-clear on her face, though Narcissa was too far to hear.
Lily was sprawled face-down on the ground, her red hair a flaming halo around her head.
Druella’s eyes flickered down to Lily for an instant, breaking contact with Narcissa’s.
“Seize her and lock her in the dungeons.” Druella’s voice was icy cold and uncaring, as if she hadn’t just watched her daughter fling her loyalties aside for an unknown girl.
“Narcissa,” she called sweetly, turning her focus back. It was venom; a poisoned apple presented with a bow. “I will deal with you later.”
Horror twisted at Narcissa’s insides and spurred her to action. “NO!” she screamed. “NO, YOU CAN’T—MOTHER!”
But if she thought pleading with Druella might work, it did not.
She’d only just gotten Lily back. Oh, Morgana, she knew how cruel Druella could be when spurned. For a transgression as grave as this, Lily could _die._
_Not again, please not again._ |
99eceff3501348deb500db83c23f3179 | ['844b674293814264b873277dbf840ccb'] | Snape wasn’t very nice. Of course he was pleasant enough to his own house, always favouring them. But to others he was mean. He was quite mean to her, too, but not as mean as he could be. But nevertheless, Hermione thought Snape was one of the best teachers in Hogwarts. He might be mean and probably also abusive, but she couldn’t say he wasn’t a good teacher. She had learned so much about the art of potions from him that now, when she would be taught by another teacher, she was afraid she wouldn’t learn much.
On the other hand Hermione was also thrilled that Snape would be teaching different subject. She loved DADA, as she did love any other subjects too (excluding Divination). She was thrilled to be taught DADA by Snape, who seemed to know a lot about this subject too. He most likely would be mean in this one, too. Why wouldn’t he? But she didn’t care as long as he was better at it than Umbridge had been. She had been just awful.
A couple of minutes later she was accompanied by Draco Malfoy.
2. Chapter 2
Hermione looked to her right confused. Her eyes were met by Malfoy’s grey ones. They stared at each other for a moment until Malfoy said: ”What? Can’t I sit where I want to sit? Or do you still want to sit alone, Granger?” He snorted.
Hermione looked away. She shook her head lightly, as if to get her brains back to what was going on. ”Of course you can sit there, Malfoy, if you really want to.” She drank a bit from her cup of tea. Then she muttered under her breath: ”Though I can’t think of any good reason for a Malfoy to sit with me...” She had wished that he hadn’t heard her, but of course he had heard.
”Maybe I want, for once, to talk to actually smart person.” He poured coffee to his cup. ”Or perhaps my father wants me to befriend with you. Or perhaps there’s some entirely other reason.” He shrugged.
Hermione snorted. ”All of those reasons are very unlikely to happen. After all, I’m a muggleborn, so why on earth would your father want you to become friends with me?”
”Well, to be honest, that is only one reason I decided to sit with you. I’ll explain later in a bit more private circumstances his reasoning.”
Hermione looked at him again. ”What are the other reasons why you’re sitting there? Surely you yourself don’t want to be friends with me, nor do you want to talk to me.”
”Granger, most Slytherins are intelligent, just like you and I, but when you manage to befriend with two idiots, you’ll want to talk to any person who has even half of a brain, without thinking twice if their blood is filthy or not.” Hermione winced slightly at this, but Malfoy didn’t seem to notice. ”Of course for example my father wouldn’t appreciate this logic if it was any other mudblood, but you’re exceptionally intelligent.”
Hermione sighed when she heard the word _mudblood_. Of course Malfoy still would be an idiot, even though he apparently now wanted to try to have some kind of friendship with her. “Malfoy, what to do really want?”
He snorted lightly. “What do I want? Maybe I just want to have a conversation with somebody who actually can hold a decent conversation. I don’t know, you tell me, Granger.”
“How about you tell me as soon as possible, what your father wants from me?”
“I already said that I’ll tell when we’re alone.”
“Yeah, sure.” Hermione finished her sandwich. “I’ll now head to the dungeons for potions class.” She stood up and hesitated for a moment before continuing. “What do you have now?”
Malfoy looked up at her and took a sip of his coffee. “Potions, too. But why are you off to the class when there’s still at least half an hour before it starts?”
“Maybe I like to be early. Or maybe I like to walk slowly, thinking about life.”
He snorted at her answer. “Just sit down and have that bloody conversation with me. Surely you’d want to talk to someone intelligent too? You’re always so quiet, when you’re not in class.”
“That’s probably because I have no friends to talk to. You know that very well,” Hermione said and sat back next to Malfoy.
“I have noticed that.” After that there was an awkward silence for a couple of seconds. Then Malfoy started talking about potions, since it probably was one of the safest and easiest options to have a discussion about.
After half an hour Hermione found herself sitting next to Malfoy in the potions class. Their conversation before had been surprisingly pleasant. When they had arrived to the class a couple of minutes before it started, Malfoy had asked if she cared to join him in the back of the class.
Hermione had to admit to herself that it was weird to sit in the back. She had always, in every class during her Hogwarts education, been sitting on the very first row. Some students looked confused when she went to the back, but she couldn’t blame them. She was confused as well. But as long as she wasn’t alone she wouldn’t complain, even though she definitely couldn’t say that she’d have a friend now. Because she didn’t. Malfoy was merely being nice to her, or as nice as he could be. | ef4ce97e0bcc495fbb8e87ca064024bd | ['844b674293814264b873277dbf840ccb'] | “Yes. What else? Anyway, I’ll take it. I guess I have to if I want to stay alive longer.” She took a sip of her tea and waited for Malfoy’s reaction.
“Okay.” He was silent for a long time. Hermione had almost finished her tea when he finally talked again. “I never thought you actually would agree to take it. Or even consider it.”
Hermione let out a small laugh at that. “Since the Dark Lord rose again, I’ve known that if I want to stay alive, I have to do it at some point. But I still had to debate against my own heart on this decision.”
Malfoy laughed at that. “I’ll let the him know you’re ready to take the Mark.”
Hermione nodded in agreement. She was grateful she had cast a wordless _Muffliato_ before they had started talking about this. Of course Malfoy had lowered his voice, but Hermione still didn’t want to take any chances of others hearing, even if the others were Slytherins too – and at least some of them were probably also death eaters.
▪▪▪
A week later Malfoy finally informed Hermione when he would take her to the Dark Lord to take the Mark. It had been just a small piece of parchment given during the potions class that told her to meet him at the Room of Requirements right after the curfew the next night. She destroyed the parchment during the very next chance she had.
She couldn’t sleep very well. She was way too nervous about everything that was going to happen. The war. Her becoming a death eater just so she could live. What a Slytherin thing to do… Maybe she after all had at least a bit of Slytherin in her. Otherwise she wouldn’t even be joining the death eaters.
She hoped Malfoy would quickly brief her on how she should behave in front of the Dark Lord before they flood to the wherever they were going.
The next morning at breakfast Malfoy was teasing her. Or at least it seemed like he was teasing. “You look awful, Granger, like you didn’t sleep at all.”
“Pfft. What do you think?” Hermione snorted and focused on eating her breakfast and trying to read a book.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I promise Severus will be a part of the story, sooner or later!
4. Chapter 4
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I've been trying to post this bloody chapter for the past, I don't know, like 20 minutes and have failed several times because my wifi is shite. But apparently I've finally succeeded.
Right before the curfew Hermione went to the Room of Requirements. Malfoy wasn’t there yet, but would probably be very soon. She paced across the room, unable to stay put Her nervousness had increased during the day and now she was so anxious she thought she was about to throw up. When she first had had that feeling today, she had drank some anti-puke potion she had secretly brewed just days earlier. At least she wouldn’t now actually throw up, even though the potion didn’t take away the feeling.
Hermione snorted at the idea of throwing up in front of the Dark Lord. It would be humiliating. Luckily she had had a weird feeling of needing this particular potion and luckily she had been able to steal the ingredients from professor Slughorn’s storeroom. In her thoughts, those storerooms were still professor Snape’s, even though she knew they weren’t. His storerooms were probably entirely somewhere else, now that he was a DADA teacher.
It had been surprisingly easy to break into Slughorn’s storeroom. The wards around his office and the storeroom were ridiculously easy to undo and redo. She had anticipated it to be easier than to break into Snape’s office, but she hadn’t thought it to be that easy. And apparently Slughorn hadn’t even noticed anything, not even that something was gone from his stores.
Soon Malfoy appeared in the room wearing all black. He also wore a cape she recognized to be a death eater cape. “Granger,” he greeted. “We’re going to floo to the Malfoy Manor in half an hour. My father will meet us there. Then we’ll be off to the meeting and you’ll get your Mark.” He was quiet for a moment considering his next words. “The Dark Lord probably will use a Cruciatus curse on you. He might also make you use an Unforgivable, to be sure about your loyalty.”
Hermione sighed. She didn’t know if she was ready to do this. But ready or not, she had to.
“Is there something you want to know? We have around half an hour before we need to go, so now would be a good time to ask the questions.”
She was quiet for a moment before asking the biggest question she had in mind. “Does it hurt? Taking the Mark, I mean.”
It was Malfoy’s turn to be quiet for a moment. “Yes. It does hurt. How much? That depends entirely on your pain tolerance, but I’m sure he could make it even more painful than it actually is. And if not, then he can torture you, let’s say with Cruciatus, to make the entire… thing more painful.”
“Talking about the Unforgivables… has anyone ever used one on you?”
“Yes, Cruciatus. But only once.”
Then Hermione decided to change the subject, not entirely, but away from the pain and Unforgivables itself. “How should I act in front of the Dark Lord?”
“I’m sure my father will also give you a short brief on this, but in short: do not look the Dark Lord in the eye, bow when you arrive in front of him and only speak when asked.”
Hermione nodded. The rest of the time they were quiet, both deep in their own thoughts. But soon they had to prepare to floo themselves to the Manor. |
710f5e2194074175b65f1a84a98f4a8b | ['8463f1a303314150a2602a6b380ca362'] | There was already a rope hanging down the side of it, and Satsuki realized that they were going to really climb it. Murasakibara was suited up in a vest that had holds for other people in it, which would make it easier for him to climb with their weight distributed more evenly. "It's a good thing no one can go up our secret route. No one's as strong as Giants." Hanamiya said it so smugly that Satsuki couldn't help but roll her eyes. Though she had to admit, he was probably right.
When they were all strapped in Murasakibara started the long trek up the rope. Satsuki gripped on his waist with all her might, her hands going white with strain. Kagami was next to her, scowling, obviously not liking that he was being carried up like a baby. He looked down and blinked in shock, "He's climbing up." It came out incredulously, as if he couldn't believe it.
Hanamiya made a sound, "That's inconceivable!"
"And he's gaining on us," Kagami pointed out.
"Speed up you big lump! So much for the strongest man in Florin!"
Murasakibara grunted, "I'm carrying three people, and I dropped my lollipop. Don't yell at me, I'm going as fast as I can without my energy source."
Satsuki laughed, "Candy's your source of strength?"
Kagami rolled his eyes, "He's an idiot, but a strong idiot."
"Don't be mean Kaga-chin."
"Just hurry up, we're wasting time, and—," Hanamiya was cut off.
Everyone coursed together mockingly, "And time is money." He glared at them, making them snicker.
It didn't take long after that for them to reach the top, and as they rested Hanamiya smirked, "He must have given up by now. Kagami, check."
Kagami growled, he hated being told around like a dog, but did as he said. "Huh, would ya look at that." He stated, watching as he saw muscles flexing in the sun as the man climbed slowly. Kagami's mouth felt a little dry and he had to clear his throat when Hanamiya asked him a question. "He's still coming up, and he's quite close."
"What?!" Hanamiya roared, looking over the edge himself, "That's inconceivable!" Murasakibara sighed at hearing his signature saying, other than that time was money. Hanamiya went over to the rock that the rope was wrapped around and pulled out a sharp looking knife. He started cutting away at the thick rope and half of it gave way, making the man hanging on it jerk. When he cut it all, it slid down and fell over the cliff, the sound of it hitting the bottom echoing loudly.
"There, surely he must be dead now."
"Uh, nope." Kagami said, amused. The guy was tenacious, he had to give him that. The guy in all black was hanging on the side of the cliff, around a hundred meters down.
Hanamiya was seething, "Fine. Kagami, you stay here. If he makes it to the top, kill him." Turning to face the giant, "Murasakibara, grab the Princess and follow me."
"He better be a good challenge." Kagami growled.
"Meet up with us once you're finished, and _hurry up_." With that the other three started up and over the hill, disappearing quickly. Kagami sighed and sat down on some broken column. He glanced around at the ruined castle grounds with annoyance; he wasn't a patient man after all.
Sitting at the edge, he dangled his legs over, glancing at the man gripping the cliff side. "So," he called down to get his attention. The masked man looked up with some difficulty. "Anytime you wanna move this along I'll be glad to kick your ass."
"Hm. As much as I'd like that, this is much harder than it seems." The man drawled sarcastically and Kagami gulped at the sound. Fuck, who was this guy, and why did he sound like sex on two legs?
"Tch. That's a lame excuse."
"Well _excuse me_ ," he sneered. "If you're so inclined to move this along mind throwing down something to help me up?"
Kagami blinked, and thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. "Will you really trust me so easily to actually let you reach the top?" That made the man pause.
"…Good point. Scratch that idea."
"What if I told you that I promise to let you up?"
"Easily broken. Why would I believe that?" The man said, and Kagami could see the strain of muscles from how hard he was working them. _Bad Taiga_ , Kagami scolded himself, _he's the enemy._
Kagami stood up, face clear, "I promise on the grave of my father, you will reach the top." He heard him sigh.
"Fine, throw it down."
He smirked and unwrapped some excess rope left over and threw it down, watching as the man easily switched to it. Within a minute the man was scrambling over the side and leapt to his feet, Kagami looked on with an eyebrow raised. "Calm down there, I'll wait for you to get ready."
His shoulders slumped in relief and he nodded, sitting down. This gave Kagami ample time to take in his opponent. He was as tall as him, maybe a bit taller, with dark tan skin that was just delectable in the sunlight. The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled up to his elbows, giving Kagami a very nice view of lean arms. When the man sighed and scrubbed off his mask the redhead gaped. It just wasn't fair how damn attractive the guy was, and plus his voice… so not fair to his nerves at all.
Blue hair was streaked with sweat from exertion, and the guy swiped it away, pushing it back through as he leaned back. Kagami swallowed, shifting uncomfortably as midnight blue eyes locked with his. The man noticed the attention and a smirk instantly came to that devilishly handsome face, "Like whatcha see? Hm?"
Kagami flushed, whether in anger or embarrassment he would never know. "Fuck off." | 240cf91228d04601b959ce616c77d294 | ['8463f1a303314150a2602a6b380ca362'] | Bilbo glared at the sky, hoping that the Lady caught sight of his scowl. He could have been sitting quietly in the Undying Lands with a cup of tea… But he couldn’t help but grin, this was _so much more interesting_ than that would have been. It felt good to run freely, well… not with a pack of angry Men after him, but he digresses. A few minutes passed and his breath was still strong, making him happy he had grown more used to traveling through this past week.
He shivered, and his eyes widened. It was time. Bilbo quickly slid into the shadows and moved to climb a tree, watching as the Men ran a couple feet past and then stopped. They looked around angrily, and Forn yelled something. His voice was cut off from a bone chilling sound, and Bilbo stuffed his ears before he could hear the rest.
" _Cold be hand and heart and bone_
_and cold be sleep under stone_
_never more to wake on stony bed_
_never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead_
_In the black wind the stars shall die_
_and still be gold here let them lie_
_till the Dark Lord lifts his hand over dead sea and withered land."_
Withered shadows slithered out from the forest hills, and he could see the Men fighting before being touched and dragged into their spells. He muffled a gasp and looked away, for it was worse than young Frodo had mentioned, seeing those strange beings take the Men further into the woods like docile dolls. When they disappeared Bilbo slid down, his hands shaking. Stumbling towards where the Dwarrow’s camp was, as his legs couldn’t quite hold him up.
He finally paused, halfway back and threw up right into the bushes. Bilbo knew what those Barrow-wights were going to do, they had sung about it too! Maybe he had killed orcs and goblins before, but never had he taken the life of a mortal. Once his stomach was empty he groaned and sat up, but not before his eyes widened. Forn was there, a few feet ahead of him, glaring at him with hatred.
“Ye basterd, I don’t know what them things were tha’ took me men, but ye’ll pay fer it!” Forn charged, a wild look in his eyes, a look that showed he had been close to death and survived, but it had clearly broken him.
Bilbo stumbled back again, his body still shaken from what had happened. His hand shook and he pulled Sting out right before Forn jumped at him and ended up impaling himself. They tumbled back, the hilt of Sting resting uncomfortably against his stomach. Warmth spread against his chest and down his sides. Breath coming quick, and a panic attack just edging onto the sides of his vision, he rolled the man off of him and sprung back. There was blood covering the whole front of him, and he tried to wipe it off.
It was a long moment before he had calmed himself, and he ended up dry heaving next to the bushes again. Wiping the tears that had come unbidden, he stood up straight and went over to pull Sting from the body. It came out with a squelch, making his empty stomach curl into itself. Straightening out his coat and putting back on the hood that had fallen in his tumble, he walked back.
There were a few bodies littered about the camp, as not all the Men had followed him. Bilbo didn’t chance a look at them, as he would be in the bushes all night that way. The three Dwarrow shot to their feet as they saw him come from the dark of the trees, covered in drying blood. All of them were wary, and Bilbo sighed.
_This was going to be an interesting conversation._
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> A/N: Okay, so i'm not an expert on blacksmiths or anything, so i just guesstimated based on some research, and then gave them a shorter time because they're Dwarrows, aight? They obviously are more skilled than Men, even in the less modern times like those.
>
> Also, the OC's, hope you like them, they'll have a part in the story, which you'll see more about next chapter. It was a tag, so you cant really be angry with me, right...? lol, anyways, I'll say it again just in case... I DID NOT READ THE BOOKS, I've only watched the movies and done some research on the books. So I wasn't exactly sure how the Wights had gotten Merry and Pippin under their spell, but i just made it that they had to hear them and not get touched? So that's why Bilbo is marginally better off than Forn, he didn't hear them mostly, or get close to them. I'm assuming their presence is much like the Nazgul.
>
> Also, dont expect 6k words every chapter lol, i mostly do 3k to 5k per chapter, but this one really got away from me.
>
> P.S. It may be a little bit before you meet Canon characters, as Bilbo isn't just going to only meet them and not other people. So yes, OCs.
>
> Comments are love ;)
3. To gain trust, it must first be given, it is not earned. Trust is a chance, a risk, and one must decide when to take the jump.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Glad you guys liked the OCs! There's plenty of them this chapter, and I didn't mean it for them to talk so long but they reallllllly got away from me. Oh and i forgot to mention the Wights song was from the web, and not mine.
>
> Hope you like their talk!
>
> Enjoy~ |
b657a7b9957542f7ae2bc0b1ca2c4520 | ['84838d5de0c94f5ebf785f4ee8c3726f'] | “You know, I have to say, to see you like this is rather…funny,” Cinder said as she gently cupped Pyrrha’s face bringing her to look her in the eyes, “clawing away like the animal you are.” Cinder said with a hint of sarcasm in her voice, she then noticed Pyrrha’s desperate attempt to get to her daughter. And the woman who to Pyrrha was evil incarnate had a wicked smile.
“Oh, poor, poor Pyrrha, so desperate to get toe the last thing I haven’t taken from you.” Cinder said as her eyes began to glow and before her eyes, Pyrrha watched the life leave her daughter’s body, Cinder disposing of the baby besides it’s father. Wailing in both pain and anger Pyrrha desperately thrashed trying to free herself to attack Cinder to no avail.
“Know this, I will take everything you love, and more!” Cinder said as she finished Pyrrha off waking her up, she was covered in a cold sweat and breathing like she just went through a battle. Looking to her side she saw her boyfriend still asleep, and most importantly still alive. Careful not to wake him up she got up and went over to look at her child, smiling she knew what she would need to do, and what she was fighting for, her family, the new one and old one she had.
12. Reconciliation
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sorry for the long absence from the story, I've been busy with class and preparing for some other things, but I managed to knock this out so enjoy and sorry for the end, but I didn't feel like doing the rest of that episode, I'll do it in the next chapter.
It was odd to walk around a place you’d never been in before. At least that’s what Jaune thought as he and Pyrrha walked through the crowded city streets of Mistral. While Pyrrha was literally at home in the sprawling metropolis, Jaune: not so much, still it was an interesting experience to see the place where his girlfriend had grown up. The two were out shopping, mainly for groceries, but also spending some much-needed alone time together, with Nora, Ren and Ruby taking care of Arwen until they got back.
“Wow, Qrow was not kidding when he said this place was huge.” Jaune said as he looked around the marketplace that they were in. Pyrrha smiled at this, she was so used to the way that the markets in Mistral worked that she could navigate them like they were second nature to her, it came almost as easy as combat did. Jaune looked at his scroll and noticed they were missing a few things from their grocery list. Sighing he knew he’d have to go back and get them.
“Hey, Pyrrha, be right back, I forgot to get some things back at the produce stall, be back in a sec.” Jaune said as he left Pyrrha behind, to occupy her time Pyrrha perused a stand that had some rather beautiful gowns and dresses on display, hoping to find something that would fit her.
“P-Pyrrha!” Pyrrha heard a feminine voice that she recognized almost immediately, turning to her side she saw an older woman with bright red hair and green eyes like hers staring back at her, “Pyrrha! Oh my god it’s you!” the woman said as she scooped Pyrrha into a large hug.
“Oh god, I thought I’d never see you again.” The woman said as she hugged Pyrrha tighter, Pyrrha let out a groan as she tried to dislodge herself from the women.
“Mom, it’s good to see you too.” Pyrrha said as she tried her best to get her mother to let her go, though this seemed to have the opposite effect and caused the older woman to tighten her grip on Pyrrha. Letting her daughter go, Pyrrha could see tears streaking across the older woman’s eyes.
“When-when I saw the Fall of Beacon on TV, and the CCT went down, and then nothing from you for almost a year.” Pyrrha’s mother said wiping the tears away from her eyes. Pyrrha sighed she was dreading this moment for a while now, she knew that the longer she was in Mistral the more likely she would be to run into family, and her mother was the last person she wanted to run into.
“Hey, Pyrrha I’m back.” Jaune said as he saw Pyrrha talking to an older woman who looked, well like Pyrrha. Jaune looked at the two before the connection was made. He then froze like a deer in headlights, he had never meet Pyrrha’s parents, or was it parent? Pyrrha had never clarified if her mom was a single mother or not.
“I take it this is Jaune, correct?” The woman said to Pyrrha she nodded, and the older woman smiled, “Hello, I’m Helen, I’m Pyrrha’s mother.” Helen said as she walked up to Jaune and looked the blonde up and down, he was still sweating bullets having not been this heavily scrutinized since class at Beacon Academy, the older women then let out a haughty laugh and went back up to Pyrrha.
“My, my, Pyrrha, you said he was handsome, but not this handsome.” Helen said laughing again as Jaune and Pyrrha turned bright, bright red.
“Just kidding, well I’ll leave you two to whatever you were doing, It was good to see you again Pyrrha dear, when you have a chance come home so we can catch up on our own time.” Helen said walking off leaving Jaune and Pyrrha behind, the two were slightly bewildered and a little bit embarrassed, but they were at least glad that Helen seemed to approve of the two being gone for so long. Returning back to the house, they could see Ren and Nora were readying setting up the pots and wok for their dinner that night, Ruby was nowhere to be found. | adeba9091ec44af88fe87d2627c883ec | ['84838d5de0c94f5ebf785f4ee8c3726f'] | “Froppy, we’ve been together for so long, and I want to go on being with you.” Deku said as he pulled out the velvet covered box and opened it up, he held Tsuyu’s hand he could see tears began to form in her eyes, Tsuyu prided herself on being rather emotionally strong never showing herself being too angry, or too sad; so to see her smile like this and be filled with tears of joy was a good sign for Deku who wiped the tears from her eyes, “Tsuyu Asui I love you more than ever and I want you to marry me.” Deku said she didn’t say anything just kiss him while slipping the ring on her finger.
The rest of the night went by rather quickly, after announcing their engagement and getting well wishes from their friends and staying at the party for a while enjoying the drinks the two made their way to Tsuyu’s apartment. The two could barely keep their hands off one another when they opened the door Midoriya kissing at Tsuyu’s neck making her let out a small groan of pleasure as he pressed his hot lips to her neck kissing and suckling at her neck; no doubt leaving a mark that she’d have to cover up with a scarf tomorrow.
Kicking the door closed Midoriya lifted Tsuyu up by her hips and pinned her against the door kissing her while he gently humped her, the only thing separating them from actually fucking being the winter clothes they were wearing. Tsuyu wrapped her legs around her fiancé as he dry humped her, his hard member very clearly pressing against her wet panties making her groan for more. She wanted so badly for him to fuck her here and now, but she knew that the condoms she had were in her room.
“Deku, bedroom: now!” Tsuyu said frantically wanting to waste little time in getting to the good part of the night, grabbing Tsuyu with the kind of tenderness only Midoriya could he walked to the bedroom gently dropping Tsuyu in her bed and began to take off the rest of his winter clothes with Tsuyu doing the same. Now naked, Tsuyu pointed to the drawer where the box of condoms were located at, nodding Midoriya grabbed a few of them, unwrapping the first one and pulling it over his hard cock he crawled up to Tsuyu kissing her body from her lower legs, to her thighs finally stopping at Tsuyu’s cunt which was soaking wet.
Kissing her labia Deku began to lick and kiss at Tsuyu’s sex making the pale girl wraith a bit as she felt him continue to eat her out, she held his head as he found the sweet spot that Tsuyu loved so much. The probing with his tongue doing a lot to make her closer and closer to the edge. Then letting out a small groan almost like a croak Tsuyu began to cum, her back arching as she encircled her thighs around Deku’s head. When her orgasm was over Deku smiled as he crawled up to Tsuyu’s face who had a look of satisfaction on it. Waiting a few minutes Deku lined his member up with Tsuyu’s entrance and began to gently prod her entrance.
“Am I good to go?” Midoriya asked waiting for Tsuyu’s go ahead to enter her, when she nodded Deku penetrated her the two letting out groans of pleasure. Pumping in and out Midoriya went slow at first getting into his rhythm with Tsuyu pulling him in a bit deeper with her legs which were wrapped lovingly around her his waist.
“Faster!” Tsuyu asked wanting her fiancé to pick up the pace and fuck her harder and faster than his current pace, and not wanting to keep the love of his life waiting Midoriya began to pick up his pace kissing her deeply as he fucked her fast and deep much to the delight of Tsuyu who couldn’t help let out many small moans and groans of pleasure.
“Tsuyu I’m about to cum.” Midoriya said as he began to pick up the pace even faster and deeper, Tsuyu then felt Deku hit his hilt and the feeling of his seed filling the condom inside her the bulging sac filled to the brim. The two were breathing hard as they separated Deku removed the condom tying it up and throwing it in the trash bin next to Tsuyu’s bed he looked at his fiancée as they intertwined their hands together, it would take a while for Deku to be ready to go again until then the two were just enjoying the afterglow of their lovemaking session, the first of many for that night. The next morning and several condoms later Deku and Tsuyu were in the shower with Deku washing his fiancée’s hair.
“You know I’m still in a bit of disbelief.” Midoriya said still surprised that he was engaged, “I’m getting married to the love of my life, part of me thinks this is just a dream and I’ll wake up at any moment.” Midoriya said Tsuyu turned to him a smile on her face as she began to wash his chest.
“I feel the same.” Tsuyu said as she hugged Midoriya tightly, the two of them had been dating for a long time about as long as they’ve known each other, and to take this last step now finally for their relationship, it was a huge undertaking and the two were ready to face that final step together. Nether was sure what the future held for them, but they knew they would take it head on hand in hand as husband and wife.
2. A Wonderful Day for a Wedding
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sorry for the long wait, but I had stuff to do, anyway enjoy guys I hope you like this chapter as much as I liked writing it. |
2a1c5cf9552a42c296f98e0869b179f6 | ['849176a4ca8b49af8657ccb043572dce'] | > Drop by https://jojotiddies.tumblr.com/ and leave an ask if you want to request something. You can also leave a comment here to request something if you cannot access my tumblr.
11. Stardust Crusaders Scarred S/O
LINK:How would the SDC crew react to finding out their s/o has a large scar (like they had it long before the trip to Egypt) on a part of their body that usually stays covered up a lot? Like around the crotch area.
This is the most oddly specific request I have gotten. I’m down cause I love scars.
**Joseph**
* Will def do the whole “OH! MY! GOD!” thing, its kinda annoying/embarrassing
* Definitely will ask how you got it, and pester you about it if you don’t tell him
* Will totally form all sorts of theories as to how you got it if you don’t tell him
* Highkey wants to touch it
**Avdol**
* Raises his eyebrows, and letting out a low whistle “That must have been a nasty cut.”
* Doesn’t press for an explanation, but is kinda curious
**Polnareff**
* Freaks the fuck out, cause his mind automatically goes to the worst scenarios
* Desperately asks for an explanation as to how you got it
* Will lovingly run his fingers over it when he can, once he finds out how you got it, either to reassure you or himself
**Kakyoin**
* **“** That is a brutal scar.”
* Low key wants to touch it
* Doesn’t really react too much to it
**Jotaro**
* Raises his eyebrows, “Yare Yare daze, that is one nasty scar.”
* Doesn’t say much about it beyond that but you might occasionally find his hand resting against it when you guys cuddle/hug
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Drop by https://jojotiddies.tumblr.com/ and leave an ask if you want to request something. You can also leave a comment here to request something if you cannot access my tumblr.
12. Okuyasu w/ Spontaneous S/O Fluff
Anonymous:May I request some headcannons for Okuyasu with a super spontaneous s/o, like one second they'll be itchin' to wrestle him and run 10 miles next thing you know they're laying on the kitchen floor wondering why the universe exists.. ahh i hope that's not too confusing~
Sounds like me when I was a kid and didn’t take my ADHD meds.
He’s gonna be confused but down for whatever. He will not understand your rapid subject changes but he’s used to not understanding things, so he just rolls with it. He just loves spending time with you and is down for anything. He will be real gung ho about your hyperactive urges and ready to run around doing dumb stuff with you. The introspective/inattentive times he’ll be on less familiar territory, but he tries to indulge them. He may not have any answers to your philosophical questions but he will try his best. And he will be a fantastic listener
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Drop by https://jojotiddies.tumblr.com/ and leave an ask if you want to request something. You can also leave a comment here to request something if you cannot access my tumblr.
13. Joseph/Reader/Caesar NSFW
Anonymous:Could I request some NSFW poly/threesome hcs with Joseph and Caesar? Thank you~!
WHOOOOO _BOIIIIIIIIIIII_!!! POLYAMORY IS MY WEAKNESS **LETS _GO_**!!!!
* Joseph moves fast when it comes to sex, like one minute you two are kissing and the next minute he is between your legs giving you the most enthusiastic oral you have ever received, meanwhile Caesar is yelling at him to slow the fuck down
* Joseph has no idea what lube is or getting your partner prepped for penetration and prefers to bareback. Caesar is horrified and probably has a condom and packet of lube on him at all times.
* Most of this is Joseph being like “WHOOOO SEX LETS FUCKING GO!!!” and Caesar being affronted and telling Jojo to slow the FUCK down you asshole do you not know how to have good sex?
* Threesomes have a 50/50 chance of becoming great sex or just Jojo and Caesar arguing and a 30% chance that Jojo and Caesar will make out angrily
* Joseph tends to go towards rough sex, quickies, and rough kink, while Caesar tends toward passionate and romantic sex that takes a while, and more sensory play and power exchange
* Both of them really like to give oral, and will occasionally fight about who gets to go down on you. Or who does it best. They have different styles of doing it, Joseph is sloppy, enthusiastic, very drooly, and a lot of sucking, whereas Caesar is much more targeted/specific with a lot of licking and kissing and using his fingers.
* Jojo likes to make you laugh during sex. Caesar thinks it ruins the mood, but doesn’t bring it up if you don’t mind it
* Once Joseph and Caesar teamed up to dom you together and do a whole scene and it was quite possibly some of the best sex you ever had, but they wouldn’t do it again if you didn’t ask.
* If you did ask they might have a moment of internal struggle between “work??? Together??? With him??????” and “Make them feel fucking amazing and have fantastic sex.” The sex will usually wins out.
* At least once when when Joseph and Caesar argue, just grab them and shove them into your chest while saying “Shhh no fighting, only tiddy.” you have to. For me. Please. Also it will probably work more than anything else.
* Both get hella distracted by you being sexy, like seeing a tiddy, a glimpse of lingerie, you showing off your muscles, you in a bathing suit, but they will pretend it doesn’t affect them when they are in public because they are big, strong, powerful, serious men, who are totally not affected by their raging libidoes and never have inconvenient boners. | 995fa99f72f84a838fee1510ea1bc3e6 | ['849176a4ca8b49af8657ccb043572dce'] | “ _Mmmmm. There’s something so… intimate about making another person come.”_
The two of them sit in silence, enjoying the hormonal bliss that comes after sex. He and Keshet are still somewhat entangled, Keshet’s heels perched on his shoulders as he rests his cheek on their calf. It is pleasant and peaceful, and Genji feels surprisingly better.
After a minute or two of lounging Keshet sits up and rummages in their backpack, pulling out a towel and plastic grocery bag. They peel off the dam and stick in the bag before using the towel to clean themself up. This breaks to the spell of peace and Genji sits up. He feels more solid, more here. Less like he would snap in a stiff breeze.
“ _You are very good with your mouth. Hope you know that. Haven’t come that fast from something vanilla since… ever_.” Keshet has pulled their boxer briefs back up and is trying to pull their leggings back on without taking off their boots. It is going about as well as you would expect. “ _I can give you a handy if you want. I don’t wanna just take.”_
Genji thinks for a moment, “I am good actually. You gave me plenty.” He is being completely honest; their advice and their pleasure has soothed something in him. He is nowhere near healed or even alright, but he is better. Alright doesn’t feel so unreachable now. But he still doesn’t feel like letting anyone try to make him come yet.
“Okay.” Keshet has finally gotten their leggings over their boots and is pulling them up. There is a lot of wiggling. “Don’t be a stranger now. Let me give you my phone number. Do you use a messaging app? I have a few of those.” They pull out a tiny book from their jacket and scribble in it. They look at him and he realizes they are waiting for him to answer.
“Oh! Um. I have a whatsapp?”
“Oh cool, me too.” They jot something else down on the paper, scribble a little more, then tear it out and hand it to him. Hoisting their backpack on to their shoulder, Keshet turns to leave.
“Thank you. For everything.” Genji means it.
Keshet turns back and looks at him. Their eyes are sharp, and he feels like his whole self is being measured. It is nervewracking, despite that his face was buried in their pussy mere minutes before. Satisfied with what they find there, Keshet steps towards him and tugs his head down, obviously for a kiss. They leave him a second to pull back, and when he leans in, they kiss him. It is hard, deep, and filled with emotions Genji cannot name.
“You are welcome.” Keshet walks out the door and disappears down the stairs.
Once he can no longer hear their footsteps Genji hops out the window and along the roofs of the town. He is halfway back to Zenyatta when he thinks to look at the paper. It says, in messy capitals
Keshet Cohen
The person you ate out in an abandoned house in Tibet after crying a lot
781-593-5820
Genji snickers the rest of the way back.
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks for reading, hope you guys enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed thinking about this.
> My undying love and gratefulness to the gunji server for their support, this would not get published or finished without them. Especially tabby.
> My first original comic with Keshet should be coming out soon, if you liked this you will probably like the comic. It's about magic, sci-fi, and coping with trauma and mental illness. |
9904222fbfda41a580cc0d130218cec8 | ['8496e879ef924c9a86ad2cc37bd1c327'] | A Not-So-Lonely Christmas Eve
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> I'm participating in sherlockrarepairs' Holiday Bingo. The card I was given had "Mycroft/Sally," "wreath," and "alone" in one column.
Mycroft poured himself two fingers of scotch then leaned back in his wingback chair and watched the flames dance in the fireplace. It was Christmas Eve and he was alone, just as he preferred it. Spending Christmas Day with his parents, his brother, and whoever his brother felt like inviting always strained his famous control. Christmas Eve was a buffer between his work and his family.
Occasionally, he felt the urge to find someone to spend Christmas Eve with, but even he, a man who hadn’t dated regularly since uni, knew that being in a relationship at Christmas carried certain … expectations. Not wanting to dive into all of that, he decided it was better to remain single.
_It’s not like there’s anyone I would want to spend this evening with_. Unbidden, an image of Sally Donovan came to mind. The two of them weren’t so much friends as verbal sparring partners. Still, he had to admit it wasn’t just her wit that grabbed his attention.
It was right at the stroke of midnight that he heard someone knocking on the door. _If that’s the Ghost of Christmas Past, I’m not interested,_ he thought, rolling his eyes, as he made his way to the door. _It’s likely Sherlock, wanting to escape the Baker Street Christmas party._
He opened the door to find not Sherlock but Sally. The scent of pine filled his nose and he realized she had hung a wreath on his front door, using a small hook he’d forgotten was already there.
She grinned at him. “Happy Christmas, Mycroft.”
He stared at her then quickly reverted to his usual stoicism. “Might I ask why you came all this way, Sergeant?”
Sally rolled her eyes. “We’ve known each other for years, I think we can drop the ‘Sergeant’ and ‘Holmes’ now.”
“You didn’t answer my question. You’re quite a ways from London on Christmas Eve.”
She smiled a bit. “Your brother said you were alone tonight and that you never decorate your place for Christmas. I couldn’t find a tree at this hour, but I thought this,” she held up a hand to the wreath, “would be good enough for this year.”
Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “‘This year?’”
Her smile widened to a grin. “Yeah, I’ll have a lot more time next year to make this place festive.”
“Sally-”
“Yes?” Her eyes were dancing.
“What makes you-”
He was cut off by the feeling of her lips on his. _When Sherlock said kissing his girlfriend made his mind blissfully blank, I thought he was exaggerating. I’m glad to know I was wrong._ When she pulled back, he opened his eyes to see Sally holding up a sprig of mistletoe.
“They threw in free mistletoe. Wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to snog the guy I’ve fancied for a while now.”
Mycroft chuckled. “I assume mistletoe is good for more than one kiss?”
“I’d say the kisses are unlimited.”
“Good.” Taking the sprig from her, he tucked it into her up-do then murmured, “Happy Christmas, Sally,” before kissing her deeply. | 1e9a201ddf74417aa6217afc12609097 | ['8496e879ef924c9a86ad2cc37bd1c327'] | Textpectation
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Inspired by two prompts from afteriwake -- "I know you do" for Fictober 2018 and "textpectation: the anticipation felt when waiting for a response to a text."
Darcy Lewis liked to think of herself as a patient person, but even she had her limits. She was pacing the length of her spacious apartment in Avengers Tower, waiting for a reply to her text.
Sending the text had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done, but she knew it was easier than saying it in person. _Easier?_ a voice in her head snarked. _That’s putting it mildly. You’ve been getting tongue-tied around Steve for weeks now._
“Yeah, well,” Darcy muttered aloud, “you try telling Captain frickin’ America, the guy you’ve been dating for three months, that you’re in love with him and see how well you do.”
_Coward._
“So? At least I told him.”
The text had been simple enough – **I love you, Steve.**
Now she just needed to see his reply. She glanced at the clock on her phone. “It’s been five minutes, why hasn’t he said anything yet?”
_Maybe he doesn’t feel the same._
“No,” Darcy said firmly. “He loves me, I know it.”
_How do you know it?_
“The way he kisses me, the way he touches me, the looks he gives me, even when we’re on opposite sides of a room.”
_That’s just lust._
“No,” Darcy shook her head, “not with Steve. I’ve dated guys that only wanted to get into my pants. Steve’s different. He respects me. We didn’t even start doing the horizontal tango until a month ago, and it was my idea.”
He’d been reluctant at first, saying that wasn’t what he was after, that he respected her. It took a little convincing, not to mention what she suspected was a talk with Bucky, but eventually Steve agreed that it was time to take their relationship to the next level.
Darcy grinned to herself. “And oh my God, was it worth the wait.”
_That doesn’t mean he’s in love with you._
“Steve’s old-fashioned. He never would’ve slept with a girl he didn’t have strong feelings for. He makes me feel like I’m the most precious thing in the world. If that’s not love, what is it?”
Before the voice could reply, her cell pinged.
**I know you do.**
Darcy stared at the screen. “I tell him I love him and **that’s** how he replies? What the hell?” She was about to reply then she changed her mind and tossed the phone onto the couch. “You know what, forget it.” She stomped into the kitchen, grabbed a pint of Cherry Garcia and a spoon, then went to her bedroom and slammed the door.
“Ms. Lewis?” Friday asked cautiously hours later.
Darcy groggily opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was the empty pint container on her nightstand, the spoon lying next to it. Then she remembered why she ate an entire pint and she rolled away, groaning quietly. “Friday, whoever’s looking for me can just wait. I’m in the middle of a break-up.”
“No, you’re not,” Friday said gently.
Darcy turned onto her back to stare at the ceiling. “Pretty sure I am. I love Steve but he doesn’t feel the same way.”
“You didn’t read other texts.”
“What other texts?” Darcy said, confused. She turned to her nightstand again and realized her phone wasn’t there. _Damn, I left it in the living room._ She slowly got up, feeling like she was about a hundred years old, then stumbled into the living room. Grabbing her phone, she flopped onto the couch. “Ten texts? Holy shit…”
**Darcy?**
**Darce, I’m sorry.**
**Bucky just told me that was the wrong way to respond to your text.**
**I mean, I do know you love me. I think I’ve known it a while now.**
**But you were expecting me to reply with how I feel.**
**Well, here goes.**
**I’m crazy about you. You’re always on my mind. I adore your sass and your smiles and your big blue eyes.**
**I’m your hero and I hope I always will be.**
**I guess I should just tell you, right? You’re probably ready to strangle me right now as you read this.**
**I love you, Darcy.**
Darcy jumped at the sound of someone knocking on her door. _Please, God, let that be Steve._ Scrambling to her feet, she ran to the door and opened it without checking to see who was there.
Steve grinned at her tiredly. He had just gotten back from a mission and hadn’t even changed out of his Captain America uniform. “Hi, Darce. I take it you got my texts.”
Darcy realized that the emotion she’d seen in his eyes lately really was love, and it was shining bright in his blue eyes now. She grinned. “C’mere, Big Guy.” Grabbing his shoulders, she pulled him down for a kiss. |
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