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9c43b394e27745288b3d2b434173efb0 | ['84a0fe47063a4278aecd06537eb7d53f'] | Seokjin put his back against the doors for support before walking down the hallway towards who knows where.
The castle is big, he’s sure to find a place to wallow in his own pity. Or on a brighter note find someone to distract him, and find someone he did. And lucky him, he found someone he always called a friend.
Namjoon was one of the many servants around the castle. He originally was hired as a kid to work in the kitchen, but when more than a few of the plates went crashing to the floor he was swiftly moved out and placed in the library. From what Namjoon has told him he likes it better there.
The specific library he works in is smaller than the other two in the castle. It holds his father's favorites, and Seokjin's too. He loved his father. After his death Seokjin would only come out of his room to be in this library, its was almost like a second home.
“Seokjin!” Namjoon greeted the prince when he walked into the room, the servant was covered in dust. He must have been cleaning the shelves.
Seokjin gave the younger a soft smile, nothing too formal but enough to not let his emotions out. Not like that would work, Namjoon has known him too long. And man did Namjoon find out.
“Mother?”
Namjoon wasn’t apart of the royal family and he should have no right to call the queen by that name, but Seokjin didn’t care. In fact he almost ran to the other pulling him into a hug before his tears could be visible.
“Why do I cry like this?”
“Cry like what?” Namjoon questions
“Like a fucking five year old!” Seokjin clamped down on the other, sobbing into his now wet shoulder.
Namjoon jumped, whether from the increase of seokjin’s voice or the tightening of the hug is unknown “Seokjin, i've known you for a long time to know that these feeling you’re having are natural and that doesn't make you a five year old to have them.” Namjoon moved his hands to pry the older away so he could look at his face. “Let's go sit down”
God what would Seokjin do without Namjoon.
The two walked over to one of the window ledges covered in cushions. Namjoon and Seokjin as kids would sneak away pillows and blankets that they liked -mostly Seokjin as he had all the ‘best’ ones- and go to the window. Specifically the one lat had a ledge for sitting. They always came here when they needed to talk or relax and get away. The ledge itself wasn’t hidden, far from it with all the decorations, but that didn’t matter to the two. Sometimes if you looked out the window at the right time you could see the most beautiful sunset.
Every so often the two -usually Seokjin as Namjoon was scared of heights- would open the window and climb out onto the giant oak tree.
‘Everything was so beautiful from so high up.’
Seokjin was caught up in the memories that he almost walked into a bookshelf. Namjoon laughed as he redirected the prince. He pushed up his glasses from where they had fallen down his nose as he waited for the older to start. Seokjin wanted to sink into the pillows. wanted to be out of sight. He turned her head towards the window, not wanting to see Namjoon. “I don’t see why I need to talk about this, you know everything.”
“Seokjin.” Namjoon started, but the older wasn’t done.
“All I ever do is to please her. I wake up at the crack of dawn and got to bed only an hour before then. I work all day on matters that should be hers and yet I find them on my desk.” Seokjin unknowingly tensed his shoulders, anger rising, “I organize and plan events both in the castle and out. I make her speeches and edit them to her liking. If something is wrong i'm to blame,” Seokjin spit out. Namjoon looked as if he wanted to say something, but again Seokjin wasn’t done.
“I'm not looking for much from her, just a thanks. But instead i'm met with, not only more work, but im told how ‘unfit’ I am for the throne. That if I was more handsome I would already have my fire!” Seokjin nearly cried again thinking about his lack of magic. Magic wasn’t a big thing for many as it was rare for normals, but for royalty it was everything. It was the one thing that made you higher than the rest, a reason for your power. And Seokjin didn’t have it.
Namjoon didn’t have an answer, but he did have himself, so he did what he had to. He hugged the prince. To some people this might have seemed like nothing, but to Seokjin it was everything and Seokjin held onto everything.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yoongi could feel a remnant of pain flow throughout his body as he walked through his ever changing surroundings. Sometimes it was a field of grass, others a dense forest. Now when he looked around him he all he could see were flowers. Beautiful flowers. Light purples and pinks, white every so often. It was nice.
Yoongi didn’t focus on it too much though, soon enough it would change, so he just walked.
And walked,
And walked.
He had no destination in mind. Nothing filled his mind, but that's ok. Its nice.
The sun felt nice on his skin. The wind blew a sweet outdoors send to his face. It was nice, everything was nice. Even the pond was nice. Expecaly from so high up. Such a quick drop from the top of the cliff.
Cliff?
Oh no.
Nonononononononono!
Stop turn back! | f0ade08746514228a500f5b2c1c13c5c | ['84a0fe47063a4278aecd06537eb7d53f'] |
Of Riches and Fire
“Yoongi, stop staring at my ass and help me with this book.” Jin huffed, trying his best to dislodge a book from one of the many shelves that lined the wall of the library. He was balancing on his toes. Clearly struggling.
“How am I supposed to help when it's all the way up there?”
“I don't know! Just give me a hand or something.” Yoongi smirked. He shifted closer, moving his hand back readying to slap Jin’s ass.
“Don’t you dare.”
Yoongi chuckled, moving his hand to the other's lower back, “All I was going to do was this. I don’t know what you were thinking Hyung.”
Jin huffed, but thanked the other under his breath. finally managing to pull the book from the crowded shelf. The book was thick, and if Yoongi had to guess, he would say it's about two inches. It was bound in a dark leather, faded gold text could be seen on both the front and spine of the book and it seemed to be the only form of decoration. A layer of dust had formed on the spine and the tops of the pages, the only parts really visible from where it was once placed in the shelf.
“Man that book is almost as big as my-” Yoongi was stopped when he heard a loud bang come from behind him. Jungkook - one of the librarians and a friend to the two - had dropped the books he was carrying.
“Oh my, these book are so slippery.”
Jin hit Yoongi over the head and turned to Jungkook. “Sorry about him Jungkook, you know how he gets.”
“Honestly, i’ve gotten used to it by now.” Jungkook bent over to pick up the books. ”Anyways, I didn’t know you guys were going to be here today.”
“Oh yeah, Yoongi and I have a project on old fairytales and stuff. Namjoon said that he saw a good one in this book a while back, I just can’t remember what is was called.” Jin showed Jungkook the book in his hands as the three walked over to a nearby table.
“The Great old tales” Jungkook read the text on the book, pondering for a bit. “Oh! I think I know the story Namjoon was talking about.” Quickly the youngest took the book from Jin’s hand, opening it up from the middle.
“Here.” Jungkook handed the book back when he found what he was looking for. The book was opened to a page decorated with an elaborate picture of a family crest. A gold peacock like bird surrounded in fire, Buildings lined the bottom almost like a nest of some kind. The previous page paled in comparison, only showing the title and author along with a small quote towards the bottom.
“Of Riches and Fire?” Yoongi read.
Jungkook smiled, “I remember when Namjoon first read this. He wouldn’t shut up about it.”
“That's just Namjoon for ya.” Yoongi looked over to Jin. “ Do we really have to read this? Can we just read, I don’t know, Cinderella.”
Jin was looking at the book like it was a treasure chest. “You only know the Disney version. I want a story without gore, plus no one would pick something like this.”
“The only reason I watched that movie was because someone wanted to. And to think they made three of them.” Yoongi could barely remember the first movie when he was forced to watch it with Hoseok and Jin let alone the other two movies.
“The third one was the best!” Jin snapped
“Yeah, Yeah. I know by now.” Yoongi put his hands in front of himself. Both him and Hoseok have learned not to fight with him about this.
Jungkook stared at them for a bit before turning towards his books, “As much as I would love to continue to talk to you guys. I have a job now.” He heaved the books up, turning back to the other two. “Good luck on your guys’ project.”
“Good luck to you Kookie.” Jin smiled at the younger. Yoongi waved as he pulled out one of the wooden chairs lining the table. Unfortunately the spot he had chosen let him vulnerable to the light streaming in from on of the high windows.
Yoongi grumbled resting his elbow on the table, his hand cupping his jaw. “Might as well get started.”
“Don't sound so enthusiastic Yoongi, it's not like we’re going to start a party” Jin jokes.
“As long as you don't make any of your stupid jokes.” The smile that apried on the elders face could rival the sun. The jab Yoongi made to Jin’s side could be compared to a knife.
“Ok, ok. I wont.” A squeaky laugh sounded from his lips, not as loud as his usual one.
Yoongi stretched his arms out and moved to lay his head onto the table. “How are we going to do this.”
Jin thought for a moment. “I could read to you as you take notes?” Yoongi gave him a look.
“You think i'm going to say up for that?”
“Come on. “ Jin pushed his shoulder.
“Fine, fine.” Yoongi got up from his seat with a slight drag from the chair, as one of the legs scraped against the floor. Jin clutched his ear at this, grimacing.
Yoongi had to look around a bit before he found a piece of lined paper. The two didn’t expect to start in the library, but since there is a table here and still light out they might as well. When Yoongi had finally made his way back with paper he could see Jin starting to read. He looked so invested in the story at only the first couple pages, god did Yoongi love to see that.
“Starting without me?” Yoongi called out when he was in earshot to the older.
“Huh?”
Yoongi pointed at the book. |
6960c7e462404359a9893825f2fd9002 | ['84bcdf4afa624a9b90d58b021c099be9'] | “Anything for you, kid,” Tony ruffled Peter’s hair. “I’m a little offended you didn’t tell me that it’s your birthday, and you didn’t tell me last year, I had to find out from May.”
“It didn’t seem that important,” Peter replied, leaning against the balcony railing.
“I think it’s pretty important. I mean, you only turn 17 once.” Tony replied, glancing over at him.
“My birthdays haven’t seemed that important since Ben died. He, um, he died a week before my 14th birthday, and ever since it hasn’t felt right to be celebrating it without him. He’d always been there, you know?” Peter frowned and bit his lip.
Tony moved closer to Peter and put an arm around him, but stayed quiet, letting Peter decide if he wanted to continue.
“This is the first birthday I’ve had since then that I had like… a father figure at,” Peter avoided looking at Tony, he wasn’t sure if Tony knew he saw him that way. “It feels right in a way it hasn’t in years.”
“A father figure, huh?” Tony smiled. “I mean, I know you’ve been spending a lot of time with Happy, but I didn’t quite think he was a father figure.”
“No, Mr. Stark,” Peter turned to look up at him. “You.”
Tony cleared his throat, he was suddenly feeling very choked up. “Yeah, kiddo, I know.” He blinked a couple of times, his eyes were suddenly very watery, probably allergies or something. “What brought this on?”
“Well, I’ve been reading A Wrinkle In Time and there’s a lot of stuff about how much Meg misses her dad, and how she would travel across the universe to save him, and I was thinking, you know, I’d do that for Mr. Stark, and then I was like, ‘oh man, Mr. Stark is like a father figure to me’, and now I’ve said ‘father figure’ too much, and I’m worried it’s kind of weird” He said it all in a rush.
Tony a moment to process what Peter had said, but once he did he pulled Peter into a hug. Peter seemed surprised, but hugged him back. After he pulled away, he wiped his eyes and smiled at Peter.
“Peter, I have something for you. It’s not your birthday present exactly, but I thought this was a good time to give it to you,” He pulled an envelope out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Peter. “You can open it.”
Peter pulled the envelope open and read over the documents inside, then reread them, then looked up at Tony, disbelief in his eyes. “Tony…”
“I finally got you to call me Tony!” Tony grinned.
“This is… I mean… I can’t…” Peter was at a loss for words.
“Yes, you can. Peter, I can’t think of anyone else who would be a better heir to Stark Industries. You’re good, Peter, better than I am, better than any of the Avengers. You’ve worked with me for almost two years and you know more about the world than most 17-year-olds. I trust you, Peter, I would trust you to run the company today, but that’s not what this means. This means that one day when you’re out of college and an adult, when you are ready, you will take over Stark Industries from me. And before that, we’ll work together so you know how to do things right. And when I die, you’ll get everything tied to the Stark name. I’m not planning to have a kid, Peter.” He put a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “You’re my kid, and you will do great when this place is yours.”
A tear slid down Peter’s cheek. He swiped at it and sniffled. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.”
“And I just had you calling me Tony!” Tony teased.
Peter let out a watery laugh, and hugged him tightly. “I mean it,” He mumbled against Tony’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you kid.” They both pulled out of the hug. “Now let’s go sing happy birthday so we can get to that cake. I hate to admit it, but Barnes is quite the baker.”
Peter laughed and followed Tony back inside. He knew his life would never be the same after he met Tony, and he wouldn’t change it for the universe. All the good and all the bad, it had been worth it. He had a much bigger family than he did 3 years ago, and it was perfect.
**Author's Note:**
> Peter's shirt translates to "Geek", I own that shirt and think it's hilarious.
> So I wrote this because today is my birthday and I was pretty dang excited about it, so I put all my feelings into a fic! I hope you enjoyed it!
> If you think it is unrealistic that Peter hadn't read A Wrinkle In Time yet, I'll have you know that I didn't read it until I was 16, so that part is based on a true story.
> Let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading! | 4f950138efd6444384514d7c23b4b842 | ['84bcdf4afa624a9b90d58b021c099be9'] | He usually had his last class with Ned and M.J., but neither of them were there. He frowned, that was unlike them. He texted Ned to ask if he was okay, and he replied with “Yeah, M.J.’s mom needed her to come home right away & I said I’d take her home bc I’m ahead in english anyways”. That seemed odd. Ned could drive, but Peter didn’t think he had driven to school that day. He shrugged it off. They were both fine, that’s all that mattered. Even if they were acting weird around him, at least he knew they were both okay.
After school, he took off at a run, and was the first one out of the front doors. He spotted Happy’s car and jogged towards it, jumping in the backseat.
“Hey Happy!” Peter said, buckling in. “What’s up?”
“Not much, kid, how was school?” Happy replied.
The car ride was nice, they chatted a little, Happy told Peter about how things were going with all the Avengers under the same roof again (kinda stressful, with some hilarious situations). Peter told Happy that he was reading A Wrinkle In Time which turned out to be a book Happy enjoyed, too, so they talked about that for a while. Peter and Happy were getting along much better than at first. After the whole Homecoming deal, Happy actually decided to get to know Peter instead of assuming the worst, and found that Peter was a nice kid, if a little bit of a chatterbox. Peter was just glad Happy seemed to like talking to him. When the conversation wound down, Peter pulled his book out again and continued reading.
They arrived at the Compound and Happy let Peter out in front of the main doors before driving off to park the car. Peter headed inside, and was greeted by FRIDAY.
“Hey FRIDAY!” He replied. “Is Mr. Stark in his workshop?”
“No, Mr. Stark is currently in the main common room on the living floors. Would you like me to inform him that you have arrived?” She asked.
“Yeah, that’d be great!” He headed into the elevator, knowing that Tony wouldn’t mind if he met up with him there. He got to the floor he wanted, and stepped out of the elevator into a dark room. He frowned. The main room was never dark, usually at least one of the Avengers was there, and if not, then FRIDAY turned the lights on before anyone got there. His Spidey-Sense wasn’t warning him of anything, which meant he was in no danger. He stepped into the room, slowly, still uncertain.
The lights came on. “SURPRISE!” Peter jumped slightly, then grinned widely, looking around. It seemed like everyone was there. Aunt May, Ned, M.J., Tony, Rhodey, Pepper, Happy (Peter wondered how Happy got up there before he did), Bruce, Thor, Steve, Bucky, Sam, Clint, Wanda, Vision, and even Natasha were all there.
The room was decorated with blue and red streamers and balloons, the counter was covered in food, including a very large triple layer cake, that was leaning slightly to one side and looked like two disagreeing people had decorated it. Peter guessed it was Bucky and Tony’s work, seeing that both men had not been able to completely wash the food dye off of their hands. The whole place looked awesome, it was the perfect party. Peter was speechless, all he could do was grin like an idiot.
“Dang guys, looks like we broke him,” Sam was the first to speak, and it snapped Peter out of his speechlessness.
“This… is the coolest party ever!” He exclaimed, taking a few steps forwards so he was closer to everyone. “How did you… when did you guys…”
Tony stepped forward and put an arm around him. “Last week, May mentioned that your birthday was coming up and she wanted to surprise you, I suggested we do it here.”
May came to stand beside the two of them. “Our plans just kept getting bigger and bigger, and now here we are!” She gestured to the room around them. “I hope it’s okay. I know you haven’t been big on birthdays lately, and-”
Peter cut her off. “Aunt May, this is way more than okay, this is amazing!”
“Good,” Tony said, smiling at Peter’s excitement. “Let’s have a party, then.”
The party was amazing, Peter got to introduce Ned and M.J. to all of the Avengers. Ned nearly fainted, and M.J. got into a very long discussion with Thor about space politics. Peter got to talk to everyone there, and they were all very excited to wish Peter a happy birthday. Thor patted him on the back so hard that Peter nearly face planted, then tried to offer Peter a beer, to which about five different adults yelled “No!”, much to Thor’s confusion.
“It is a celebration, is it not?” He asked, looking around for an explanation. Bruce pulled him away to explain what a legal drinking age was.
Later, Peter managed to catch up with M.J. and Ned, to apologize for brushing them off earlier.
“No, I’m sorry!” Ned cried, pulling Peter into a hug. “It was so hard to pretend that it wasn’t your birthday, but I knew that if I said anything, I would give away the surprise!”
“He’s been dying about this all week,” M.J. added. “I had to text you for him today because he couldn’t handle lying to you.”
Peter laughed. “You guys are amazing friends, seriously.”
“Peter,” Tony called, walking up to the trio. “Could I pull you away from the festivities for a minute?”
“Sure thing, Mr. Stark!” Peter waved to his friends and followed Tony out onto a balcony overlooking the grounds. “Thanks for this awesome party, Mr. Stark,” He smiled up at his mentor. “It really means a lot to me that you did all this.” |
d4c30ca40d964d158273db6834c6769b | ['84c1460f63694508bc3ea7b6776431c0'] | “Sweetheart..” his voice trails off. Diane wasn’t sure if that was meant to be taken as Sam didn’t want to hear from her or not. She didn’t care though she needed to say what she was feeling before she overanalyzed the situation and talked herself out of this. “Sam, I know I’m the last person in the entire world you want to hear from right now. I know you won’t admit it but I know you’re heartbroken. And I.. well I am too. And I need to see you, I want to talk to you about us because I don’t want this to be the end. It can’t be” she manages to blurt our all at once before her brain can stop her.
The line on the other end is quite for a minute before Sam responds. “I’ll be there in the morning. Get some sleep sweetheart.” Before he hangs up, she makes sure to tell him what hotel she was staying at and what hotel room she was in. With that, he hangs up. Diane let’s out a sigh of relief, she was glad that he actually was flying here to see her and that he didn’t hang up the second he heard her voice. She then hangs up the phone and sets it back on the bedside table by the lamp. Laying back down, Diane let’s herself think again. What would tomorrow bring? What would he say? Was he going to be mad at her? Was he going to say he never wanted to see her again? She didn’t know. After about ten more minutes of question upon question, Diane manages to wear herself out and right to sleep.
The morning comes around quicker than expected and Diane wakes up extra early this time in both excitement and nervousness in regard to seeing Sam. She decides to dress up in something she knew he liked. Of course she didn’t want to go over the top since she wasn’t trying to seduce him. Diane just wanted to discuss their relationship and other details. Nevertheless, she knew what Sam liked to see her in and she loved to please him.
Diane decides on a red dress and accentuated the subtle curves she did have. She wasn’t a curvy woman whatsoever and she knew that but the dress did highlight her features a bit more and that was all that mattered to her. The dress wasn’t very revealing, it went past her knees and while it was v-neck it wasn’t a very revealing one. Still, the dress made her feel beautiful and like she could conquer the world. It was a plus that Sam loved it too. Diane slides on the black heels she had worn the previous day and smiles at herself in the mirror. Though nervous and unsure of what her time with Sam would bring, she was excited to see him.
She knew that any minute a knock would come at her door so she made sure the room was as tidy as could be. Though, since Diane Chambers was staying here the room was already spotless.
Only minutes after she’s finished completely tidying up, a knock comes at the hotel rooms door and Diane’s stomach twists in knots. She then takes in a deep breath and lets it out before grabbing the door handle and opening it.
There he stood on the other side. Sam Malone in the flesh. He was wearing a black button up that was tucked into his blue jeans. He was also wearing the shoes she despised but she was overlooking that in the moment. The second she sees him on the other side of the door, she lets go of the door handle and embraces him in a hug. It was quite spur of the moment of her, letting her emotions overcome her once more but she couldn’t help herself. It was quite different how much she missed Sam in the past 30 hours. There wasn’t a single man in world that had ever made her feel like this. Let alone miss this much.
She could tell that at first he was shocked as he hesitated to put her arms around her but when he did she could feel her heart melting. Diane knew that she was at home. No, she wasn’t in Boston, and no it wasn’t her home because she was living in California now. No her home was right here. With Sam, preferably in his not too overly muscular arms. How strange it was to find her home in another persons arms and yet how absolutely right it felt.
A minute or so had passed before she pulled away. Diane clears her throat remembering the circumstances, “Sorry.. please come in” she says moving out of his way so he can take a seat on the only place he could, her bed.
Diane sits after he does and sits across from him. There’s silence for minute, neither one of them knowing how to start. Sam breaks the silence with, “You mentioned wanting to talk about us?” he questions a bit quietly. He was sitting toward the wall and she was sitting toward the edge of the bed. They were facing one another and looking down until he spoke. Diane scoots herself closer to him and reaches for his hands, taking his much larger ones into her small ones. | c3cb6904a5884f029fb27f79f905e695 | ['84c1460f63694508bc3ea7b6776431c0'] |
The Incident
Diane stands in Sam’s office, tapping her foot on the wooden floor. He was speaking to her but it was all going in one ear and out the other, she didn’t want to listen to him. The ex-jock was pushing her buttons and she had just about had it with him.
“You have no reason to be mad about this so I didn’t tell you about the game. I don’t tell you about a lot of things” he snaps.
Sam’s face was beginning to fill with red as the anger bubbled inside him. She could really be a lot to handle sometimes. So what he didn’t mention to her that he was going to be out for the weekend with some buddies? Did it really matter that much? It made no sense to him and her getting upset only fueled his annoyance more.
The blonde glares at him and brings her hands to her hips, “Oh! Oh that’s exactly what your fiancée wants to hear Sam! This is what I’m saying! You don’t tell me things! I’m going to be your wife and you won’t share the simplest things with me! Let alone trying to get you to open up is like trying it get Poe to stop drinking!” She fumes.
“Hey I got that one!” He shouts and points his finger at her. She was being ridiculous for absolutely no reason. So he didn’t mention simple things, but that meant nothing. Sam wasn’t understanding why it was such a big deal to her.
“Ah so the gears are working in there!” She remarks in a shocked tone. Now she was crossing into a territory of making remarks she would regret later. They were letting themselves get caught up in the heat of the moment. Things would have to be patched up but that wasn’t happening anytime soon.
“Don’t don’t you act like that” Sam demands and puts his hands on his hips. The blood was really starting to pump through his veins as the annoyance begin to come to point where it was about to burst. Though Sam wasn’t going to do anything except throw words around, he couldn’t help but let the anger get to him.
He did have a slight temper problem but it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be handled if the two of them walked away.
That’s exactly what Diane does, she looks at him and shakes her head. “I’m done talking to you. When you get your head out of your ass and you’re ready to let me explain why you’re wrong then you know where to find me” she huffs. The blonde then turns around swiftly on one heel, opens the door to his office, and promptly marches away from her fiancé.
Though things had slightly fizzled down Diane was still upset with him and didn’t plan on talking to him for the rest of the night. She’d simply ignore his presence like he wasn’t even there.
Sam could be really frustrating at times. It was hard when he was just about as stubborn as she was and neither one of them wanted to listen to the other. Diane didn’t understand why he couldn’t see where she was coming from. Why was it so hard for him to share with her simple things?
Was it so hard for him to say “hey babe, going out with friends this weekend so I won’t be around to go to the art exhibit with you. Sorry maybe another time”? She couldn’t understand. The blonde certainly didn’t want to hear anything else out of him.
The bar owner steps out of his office after about another few minutes of sitting back and thinking about their fight. He looks across the bar and sees his fiancée cleaning up one of the tables. Part of him felt bad but the other didn’t. There were some things in his life that he didn’t feel like sharing or times when he forgot to share and that was something she didn’t understand.
The pair spends the rest of the night not speaking to each other. Though they both don’t keep their eyes off each other. Sam spends most of the night watching Diane swiftly walk through the bar, taking orders from Woody and cleaning up tables as she went.
He was longing for her if he was honest. He didn’t like when they fought and he hated when she was mad at him. Though yes, Sam was still upset with her he wanted to resolve this. He preferred when they were all over each other and annoying everyone at the bar.
Diane on the other spends the night watching Sam when she knew he wasn’t looking. Watching him prepare drinks or laugh at something Woody had said. Oh she hated it when they fought, she couldn’t stay mad at him. But she was too stubborn to go say anything to him so they’d have to work this out at a later time. That would have to be when both of them had cooled down, perhaps when her shift was over.
By the end of the night it was just Diane, Woody, and Sam. Woody and Sam were counting up the profits for the night while Diane finishes cleaning up tables and pushing chairs back into place. The bar was silent and though Diane was no longer as mad as she was earlier with Sam, she still didn’t want to speak with him. Perhaps tomorrow she would be willing to but not tonight.
After wiping down her last table, Diane walks over to the bar and sets down the rag. She then takes out the notepad and pen, setting those down along with her now untied apron.
Letting out a quiet sigh she looks up at the two men behind the bar. They were still counting away, neither one of them paying any attention. “I’m off for the night. Goodnight” she states and turns away from the bar. |
2cd95fcf7fbf41b98b7cd4b47ba7b531 | ['84df73f43d6d4a1a900832d02773412c'] |
1. Pure Fluff
**Author's Note:**
> So I wrote this after finals, just for my entertainment and thought I'd post it here.
> This is basically just the prologue. A brief mention of abuse and drug dealing in this chapter. But only a sentence worth.
Phil agreed not to force Dan into anything he didn't want to, socially. No matter how much Phil wanted to intervene. He thought that if Dan would actually try to make friends, or do his schoolwork for once, he'd be happier. However, Dan didn't agree with Phil's ever so positive outlook on life. Phil decided that Dan's life was already so rough, he would just give him some time to think about it.
Dan's parents divorced when he was still in primary school. He received plenty of abuse from his father, and was happy to see him go. However, after the divorce, Dan's mom never stayed home for long. Neither boy knew why she was gone for weeks at a time, nor what she was actually doing. But it was a sore spot for Dan, and Phil learned quickly to avoid the topic. Because of this, Dan's younger brother, Elliot, was left under his care. Even though Dan himself was only 17. Elliot's personality resembled Phil's as he was always happy. He went to the primary school a couple blocks away, and loved Dan more than anything. The brothers didn't have much, and Dan even turned to dealing drugs at one point, just to keep their house. But they had each other, and Phil thought it was adorable. However, Elliot was a secret to everyone at school. Dan didn't want Elliot to follow in his footsteps and wanted him to be well-liked and popular, much like Phil is.
Dan wasn't happy. He tried to be and he had random spurts of joy here and there. But he wasn't happy. And Phil knew this. So, much his is disapproval, Phil let Dan act as he pleased while on school grounds. So with his back up against the wall, and headphones, Dan sat in his usual far back seat.
"And Mr. Howell," the teacher began, "Your homework?"
Phil kicked Dan's shin to get his attention.
Dan reached up and took out his right earphone, replying, "What?"
"Your homework?" Phil noticed the teachers patience running thin.
"What about it?"
The teacher gave Dan a stern glare, "Where is it?"
"Not done." Dan also began to get angry, "Can I go back to my phone now?"
"Either put it away and pay attention, or get out."
Without another word, Dan stood up and walked out, leaving a class of gossiping teenagers. Phil hated how they talked about Dan. They didn't know him or his life, so why do they constantly judge him?
'Because they're teenagers.' Phil reminded himself.
Soon after, Phil made up an excuse about feeling sick and went around to the back of the school, to a grassy area by the dumpsters. There he found Dan, as usual, sitting smoking a cigarette. Dan didn't hear Phil beside him, until a hand snatched his smoke away.
"Hey! That's-" Dan stopped at the sight of Phil. He sighed.
Without a word, Phil slid down the side of the building, tossing the smoke behind him.
When Phil walked out of the building, he was angry and frustrated. But now, looking down at Dan, his head resting against Phil's shoulder, he was sad. Daniel Howell. Young. Wise. Smart. Suffering. Abused. Hurt. Brave. Strong. Independent. Phil didn't have enough words in his vocabulary to describe Dan.
So lost in his own thoughts, Phil didn't notice when Dan's eyes turned to look at him.
"What are you thinking about?" Dan's soft voice was a large contrast to the one he used during class. Phil thought it was beautiful and a shame that only Elliot and himself got to hear it.
"You." Phil answered.
"Hey," Dan's head suddenly shot up and he jumped to a standing position, his hand stretched out to Phil, "Come with me."
Phil took his hand and stood up, brushing the grass off his jeans. "Where? Now?"
"You'll see," Dan smiled, "And yes. Now."
"I-I," Phil hesitated, "I can't. I've still got class."
"So do I." He paused, "Come on, they'll probably think you went home sick. Please."
Between the fact that Dan actually said please, and his rare smile, Phil couldn't resist.
'Daniel Howell,' Phil thought, 'How do you have me wrapped around your finger.'
To Be Continued
2. The Attack
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The majority of the violence is in this chapter, so beware the warnings. Shouldn't be too bad though.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> The place Dan takes Phil was formed around a place I know really well, so sorry if it doesn't make a lot of sense. It's called the freedom crossing in St. Louis, Missouri if you want to look it up, but the best picture I could find was this:
>
> the actual site: https://jeffjacobsen.files.wordpress.com/2014/03/freedom_crossing_03202014.jpg?w=433&h=280
"I would've never said yes to coming with if I had known how much exercise was involved," Phil panted. They've walked uphill for almost 3 miles now, and Phil thought his lungs were about to give out any minute.
Dan laughed, "It'll be worth it. I promise."
After another 10 minutes of walking, they finally reached their destination. It looked like nothing. Just a piece of concrete road, broken and deteriorated, looking over the river. Dan sat, on the edge of the concrete slab, and Phil followed.
"Woah," Phil breathed out and Dan smiled.
They stayed sitting here till dusk, not saying a word, just enjoying each others presence.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
JUMP TO THE NEXT DAY
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
They were walking down the alleyway when it happened. | 4b4211621a024f72a9c87721665f9ddc | ['84df73f43d6d4a1a900832d02773412c'] | "Step away from him!" Phil heard the voice shout, and he felt Dan immediately put up his "bad boy" guard. As the figures grew closer, Phil realized two things. First, they were his friends: Pj, Chris, Joe and Caspar, along with 3 older burly guys in ski masks. Second, Chris had a gun. And it was pointed right at them.
"I said," Chris repeated, this time more forcefully, "Step away from Phil."
Dan scoffed, glaring at them. PJ walked toward Phil, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from Dan, despite Phil's many protests.
"W-Wait. No no no. What are you doing? You can't do this." Phil rambled in shock.
"This is for your own good Phil," Chris said, "You can do a lot better than this scum."
"Oh fuck off," Dan sneered, "I'm better to him than you idiots."
Chuckles filled the air and Phil struggled against Joe and Caspar's grip. He could see the fear in Dan's eyes as the 2 men approached him.
"What?" Dan laughed nervously, "Paid these guys to do your dirty work?"
Phil tried everything to get free. He screamed until his throat was dry. He pleaded for them to stop. They didn't. Dan was no match for these guys. So what felt like hours later, Phil was sobbing and Dan was slumped against the brick wall, barley conscious. Blood and bruises littered his face and he had long since stopped fighting back. Not a sound was heard.
"Knock him out." Chris said and the 3 men obeyed. Dan laid, completely unconscious now, alone. Phil wanted to say something. He really did. He wanted to scream and yell and run to Dan. To tell him that everything would be okay. But he couldn't. His throat was raw, his arms and feet sore, and most of all, he just couldn't believe what he saw. Chris exchanged payment with the 3 men and Phil glared at them as they walked away, probably to go beat up another innocent kid.
"Phil," PJ said softly, gaining his attention, "I know this is hard for you. But he'll stay away from you. You can get on with your life."
"Yeah," Chris piped up, "He's a nobody. A deadbeat drug addict who steals all his family's money and skips school. You're better without him Phil."
"You-" Phil began softly, never taking his eyes off the hurt Dan, "You don't know him. He's not like that. He's better than that."
"He's brainwashed you Phil."
"Just-" Phil could barley get the words out. "Just let me say goodbye."
They all exchanged looks, before hesitantly letting Phil go.
He walked over to Dan slowly. Phil crouched down and tears began to flow once more.
"I sorry Dan," he said, fixing the mess that was Dan's hair, "I'm so sorry. I'll come back for you. I promise."
To Be Continued |
8dd8e22bf7364394a129e27c2dd6e9fd | ['84e1b8706d1a4a7198c89909c2436485'] | With that vague threat looming, Jyn rolls onto her side so that she can watch Cassian and as much of the room as possible. She wishes she had a wall at her back like she'd had in the Imperial prison, but this room is cavernous and the walls are lined with medical equipment. She closes her eyes and pretends that sleep will come to her naturally, though it never has before.
Even with her eyes closed, Jyn exists for what seems like hours in a space between sleep and wakefulness. A bang in the hospital room and she feels the heat of the Alliance bombs on her face on Eadu; a hiss and she feels the door locking shut behind them on Scarif. A bright light and she is watching annihilation approach on the beach. She doesn't know how many times she kicks or jerks awake before she opens her eyes yet again to see Cassian's eyes open as well and realize that he is watching her from his bed.
"We lived," she says, and tries to make it sound like she's happy about it.
"Yes." His voice is flat. Jyn wonders if he wanted to die on the beach too.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> If there is one thing that drives me bonkers in heroic narratives, it is parents abandoning their children and dying meaningless deaths. No way did Jyn's mother think she was actually going to be able to make Krennic leave with a single blaster.
3. Chapter 3
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Alderaan, and despair
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Winging it on the timeline a little bit.
It's her first day up and walking around when the news comes in. No one has been willing to tell her anything about the Death Star plans, beyond the fact that an Alliance ship did indeed receive their transmission. But this news can't be kept secret. Jyn is in the canteen next to Cassian, who she can't quite look full in the face and who she hasn't exchanged more than a few words with yet, but who she doesn't like to let out of her sight either. She's poking a spoon into some mush when someone announces over the crackling intercom, "Alderaan has been destroyed by the Death Star."
Her ears roar and she is back on Jedha, stumbling across the heaving ground to get outside and abandon Saw. The horizon rises up to swallow them and Cassian is shouting in her ear as they run for the ship. Then she's on the floor of the ship again, staring out the window, powerless to do anything about the earth closing its maw around them--
"Jyn!" Someone grabs her arm--Cassian--and she jerks away, but she's back in the canteen on Yavin 4. Around her, some people are crying; others are muttering fiercely, dire threats against the Empire. And she is--hot nausea creeping up her throat, heart pounding and skin burning, but she won't throw up and she wishes she could. Wishes that her body would reflect the tearing emptiness that is eating her from the inside. She stands, and isn't that stupid, that she should be able to stand up and walk when millions of lives have just end.
She walks out of the canteen almost blindly--but no, Chirrut would have walked it better, if he hadn't died for nothing--and it's good that no one tries to stop her because there is a blaster strapped to her thigh that she found on her way to the canteen and nothing matters.
Cassian follows her. She only realizes because she is making her way up, up the outside of the ancient temple that holds the canteen, half-walking and half-climbing, and she cannot help looking back when she hears the footsteps behind her. "Go away," she says, though it's not what she wants him to do.
"You're in shock," he tells her.
"Fuck you, you're in shock," she says back, and at least she has anger to cling to. "Don't tell me how I'm feeling."
He doesn't argue.
"It was all a waste," she says. "My father. Saw. Bodhi. Baze and Chirrut. K2. My mother."
"All my men," Cassian says. "We led them to death for those plans. And we failed."
She doesn't realize that she's collapsed until she feels the mossy stone wall at her back. "I can't do this. How have you survived so long, when all we do is lose?"
Cassian is still standing, perched on the edge of the wall. "I don't know." He turns and looks at her, straight in the eyes. "I can't remember feeling this way since I joined the Rebellion."
"Since you were six." When Jyn tries to close her eyes, she sees the wall of light advancing on them on the Scarif beach. "It isn't fair," she says, the refrain of a child that she'd long since given up on saying.
"Jyn," Cassian says. "You are the only thing keeping me from going insane right now." It's too honest for Jyn to handle, not when she is flying apart in all directions.
"I wish we had died on the beach with the rest of them." She sees the words hit him, sees his knees buckle a little. Good. "We did what we were supposed to do--"
"What we were not supposed to do," Cassian interjects.
"--and we sent them the plans and it was supposed to be over and I was ready to die." Jyn's body is beginning to gasp for breath without her permission. "I wanted to die thinking we had saved the world. And we didn't. All we did was kill everyone around us." She wraps her arms around herself because she's breaking, choking on air as sobs wrack her body, and if she closes her eyes the tears will fall. "I can't." | 7e185a3b05944ec4bed222aed22f3824 | ['84e1b8706d1a4a7198c89909c2436485'] | Jyn shakes her head. She can't manage to say anything.
Princess Leia reaches out and takes Jyn's hand. "No. _Thank you_. You risked your life to steal those plans."
"I risked a lot of other people's lives -- lost a lot of other people's lives." Her voice is thick. "We didn't get them fast enough."
"Jyn." The princess's tone makes her raise her eyes. "Alderaan was destroyed because I would not tell Darth Vader where to find this base." Princess Leia's voice is hard, strong in a way that Jyn would not have expected. "He tortured me to find this base, and when I would not tell him, he used the Death Star to kill my entire planet." She closes her eyes briefly. "I will not give you my choices, and you cannot take them from me."
Jyn has been injured maliciously and mindlessly, hurt as punishment and as a lesson and almost constantly by accident, but she has never been tortured. "I'm sorry," she says.
"When I say thank you, I mean it. Because you shouldered the burden of leading men into almost certain death, we have the plans and we can destroy the Death Star. We can turn the tide on the Emperor and Darth Vader." Princess Leia almost smiles, her face too heavy with sorrow to form the expression fully. "That's what this Rebellion is. We sacrifice ourselves, our hearts, our peace of mind, so that someday there will be no need to do so anymore. We may not live to see it, but that's the price we pay."
She's in awe of this woman, this woman who is younger than she is, who can carry the weight of the choices she's made without splintering apart under them the way that Jyn is doing. Jyn is too choked with sadness and anger and something that could be hope to speak, but when Princess Leia draws her into a hug, Jyn clings to her like her strength could rub off somehow.
"They're analyzing the plans now," Princess Leia says when she and Jyn have separated. "They will find the best way to take advantage of the weakness that your father placed. We'll destroy it."
"Thank you," Jyn manages to say. "Thank you."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I fucking love Princess Leia. I wish we'd gotten to see her meet Jyn.
>
> Timeline still iffy, but I'm guessing that's not the chief thing on everyone's minds. I'm playing a bit fast and loose with how I think Jyn and Cassian would actually be doing, mental health-wise, only a few days to a week after Scarif. For the sake of the story, their PTSD is rather less severe than I think would be likely.
>
> Feedback always appreciated. I will be cleaning up/tweaking as I go.
**Author's Note:**
> Title from Dar Williams' "Iowa." |
5789cb23f83b472e885a01f0e93a9ed9 | ['84f0e75ccfac4fb095bd65ba415c2347'] | "Who else I'd choose? And I won a wedding planner as a bonus."
"I love you Pen, and I hope the wedding will be the start of all the great things that will happen to you."
"You made me cry." She says while she wipes her tears. " I love you too Si." We hug once more.
"Don't want to ruin the moment, but I think it's time." Agatha says.
"You're right." I say looking at my watch. "What a terrible wedding planner I'm." I laugh already standing. "Ready?" I ask Penny.
"Yes, I'm so ready." She stands too.
We leave the room still holding our hands, I only let it go when we reach the hall were Penny's father is waiting. I give her a last hug and then I go with Agatha to where all the guests are waiting for the wedding start.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hey, did you like the chapter? This friendships are awesome, right?
> Next week I don't know if I'll post the next chapter, because I don't know if I'll have internet, but I'll try.
> See you soon ;)
10. Chapter 10
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> The wedding arrived, I dont know much about weddings so I'm sorry if something its not like I wrote it. Enjoy ;)
Chapter 10
**Baz**
The wedding is starting when I see Simon again, he gives me a small smile, but it happens very fast because it's my time to walk to the aisle. Micah its already there looking more nervous than before, and I start to get nervous myself. Micah's sister, Miranda is on my left side, she takes my arm and then we start our walk.
The walk is short, and soon I'm on Micah's side, looking at Simon and Agatha that were walking now. Actually, I was looking at Simon, he was more handsome than ever, he was smiling to some guests until he looks at me. He kept looking at me until they reach the aisle.
Then all the attention goes back to the hotel because the bride it's coming. Penelope is stunning as a bride. She was with her father, and her smile was huge. Just like Micah, she was clearly nervous, I look at him, and I never saw him so happy. And I can tell that he is almost crying.
I let myself look at Simon again but he was looking at Penny too. His eyes were with tears and he was smiling in a way that made my heart beats faster. Agatha says something to him and they both laugh. That was the kind of thing that usually would let me burst into jealous. But not anymore, because now I know that Simon wants to be with me.
The ceremony starts and everyone is looking at the aisle, so I try to be a good best man and pay attention to the main couple. And also I don't want anyone realizing that I'm looking at Simon. | f18881fb62ba4f4e9e110aade7d7b481 | ['84f0e75ccfac4fb095bd65ba415c2347'] | We leave before they can say anything. We wait in silence, and a couple of minutes later the door opens and they appear at the hall, with suspicious looks.
“Okay, can you tell now the surprise?” Penny asks.
“Of course not.” I answer and start the walk back to the lift.
They follow me, and soon we are in the reception. I show them the blinds, and after a brief discussion, they accept putting it. Baz and I walk them to the car, helping them not to fall, or hit something. Our little trip to the dance club is faster than I anticipated, Penny and Micah don't talk too much, so we are in silence.
When the car leaves us at the door, I start to be anxious again, I hope they'll like the surprise, but now that I'm thinking, they're not the type of person who goes to dance clubs. And maybe it was stupid to organize this. The concern must be visible in my face, cause Baz says to me.
“Snow, just breathe okay? They gonna love it.”
I just nod and help Penny and Micah leave the car. As we enter the dance club, the music gets louder. They all saying something but I can't hear, I tell the security guy the name on the reservation and he takes us to a girl that leads us at some stairs, I see Niall, Dev and Agatha and some of the guests. Agatha sees us and sets everyone ready to surprise them. When we are getting close I say to them.
“Ready?” I almost shout.
“Yes.” Penny and Micah answer.
I look at Baz and as we had talked he walks behind Micah, as I walk over to Penny. I nod to him and we take the blinds off and everyone screams "Surprise". Penny gasps a little scared, but soon they both are laughing and she's hugging me.
“Thanks Simon, I was needing a night off.”
Then she goes talks to their guests. Thirty minutes later and almost everyone is drunk, I only drank a bit, someone has to stay sober. We are dancing and enjoying the songs, I look around and see Andrew, the guy who works with Penny, and again I missed his name at the list.
He was the second guy I went on a date, and it was awful, I was not even a bit comfortable, when the date finally was ending and I was ready to go back to my flat, he started to pressure me in extend the night. I even had kissed someone after Agatha, and I was, and still am discovering myself, so I didn't want to kiss him or to do something more than that.
Wanting to avoid him, I go to the bar and see that Baz was there talking to the bartender. He was smiling and chatting and I don't know why that kinda bothered me. I stop and think in go back, but he sees me, so I continue my way till the bar.
“A water, please.” I ask the bartender.
“Keeping it sober?” Baz asks.
“Someone has to.” I smile at him. “But you choose the same.” I point to the water bottle at his hand.
“Not in the mood to drink. Too tired of the flight and all.”
“Oh right, you could have stayed at the hotel.” I didn't remember he had come straight to the airport.
“Wouldn't miss this.” He looks at his friends and then to me. “I needed a night like this.”
“That makes two of us.” The bartender gives me the water bottle and turns to talk at Baz again, but he turned to me, so he gives me a nasty look and leaves, which makes me want to smile.
**Baz**
The cute and annoying bartender finally notices that I don't want talk to him, not his fault actually, the only one I want to talk is Simon, and he is here, on my side. Smiling and letting the night a lot better. We were talking for some minutes now, about our friends and how drunk they were, when I see his ex-date coming into the bar.
“Snow, your ex something is coming right here.” I say trying not to seem jealous.
“Fuck.” He says looking at him. He's too close, so we can't leave without he sees, so I feel Simon gets closer to me.
“Hey Simon.” He says putting his hand in Simon's shoulder. “It's been a long time right?”
“Hi Andrew, yes a long time.” He answers passing to my other side and keeping a distance. “This is Baz, Micah's best man.” He introduces me and I just nod.
“Hey.” He says to me. “So I was thinking, after the wedding, we could grab a drink or something.” He finishes his sentence smiling malicious to Simon and I feel him tremble at my side, and all I want is to take Simon away from him and then punch this Andrew.
“I'll have to pass. I'm seeing someone.” Now I don't know if its true or if he's making it, probably the second one. “Oh, I love this song, let's dance.” He grabs my hand and pulls me away from the bar.
Everything I can think now, it's that Simon is holding my hand, and even though it isn't as I picture, I love it. So I enjoy every piece of this moment.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So, you like the chapter? I'll came back in next week with more.
5. Chapter 05
Chapter 05
**Simon**
We're a good distance at the bar now, and I still didn't let Baz's hand, he didn't complain so I don't let it go. We go to the dance floor and all I want it's dance until my feet allow me. At some point, I let Baz's hand, but we're dancing together so I don't care at all. |
ff75deb47cfd4020935df6aab8ecd681 | ['85111e350e5f4c11861d1f3a7e7fa9ad'] | As it was, Richard was still half-cat by the time he started talking. A quiet baby, he became a quiet toddler, almost unnervingly so—his aunts were always being startled by his just appearing around the corner or under the table. He had unusually good balance once he started walking, a milestone that occurred downstairs while the aunts were upstairs with no one to see it but the cats, so that the last time the aunts saw him he was crawling and the next time they saw him he was walking. Even _they_ were somewhat disconcerted by this. The aunts observed that he was quick, and agile, that there was something decidedly catlike about his movements, and that he was extraordinarily self-contained. He never cried or whined like other children did. When he wanted something, he either got it for himself or asked for it outright, and if he didn't get it either way he didn't immediately go to pieces. The aunts didn't know what his first word had been, because they hadn't been around for it, but they did know the first word he said in the presence of people, and that was _“Deputy.”_
It happened while Deputy Walsh was holding him. Richard was wearing a shirt and little jeans that had belonged to Deputy Walsh's own boy, hand-me-downs that the man offered so sheepishly that the aunts, who'd been offended into speechlessness, couldn't refuse. His son Shane was bigger than Richard, so the clothes hung on him, but the association was enough that Deputy Walsh couldn't help picking the kid up and holding him.
“Lookin good, chief,” he said, just as he would have said to his own boy, and, already half-in-love, was wholly finished off by the Grimes eyes, which Richard turned adoringly up at him.
“Deputy,” Richard said then, clear and correct, surprising everyone there, including Miss Daugherty the social worker and Deputy Harris. Deputy Walsh wasn't listening—his heart, which had almost stopped with fear that Richard was going to say _Daddy_ , was pounding again, but now with guilt and helpless rage.
“Yeah,” he said thickly, “that's me.” He pressed Richard close, over his heart, the boy's little head under his chin, and took a deep breath of golden, curly hair. Richard's bare little feet tucked themselves over the deputy's belt buckle, as if he wanted to stand on it. “How are ya, Rick.”
It was as if someone had turned on a light in an otherwise dark room. Rick couldn't get enough. He wanted Deputy Walsh to go on holding him forever, and when Deputy Walsh instead put him down, he wanted to throw himself to the floor and scream. He didn't do any such thing—he didn't know what a tantrum was, and was too much a cat to fall into one naturally. So he stood there, eyes wide and feeling sick to his stomach, as the social worker, who never touched him if she could help it, and the other deputy went out the door while Deputy Walsh said their goodbyes for them. On the way out, he put his hand on Rick's head and ruffled his hair, which sent a bolt of pure happiness zinging through him, and then the visit was over and the door had closed behind them.
For the next three years of his life, there was only one person in the world that Rick Grimes loved, and that was Deputy Tom Walsh. It wasn't as if he had much of a choice. He loved the cats, naturally, but there were limits to how much you could love a cat, even _in loco parentis_. He didn't love his aunts. He knew them as largely absent, easily distracted providers of the barest necessities and the occasional comfort, and he had an uneasy grasp of their exact relationship to him, but he felt as much real affection for them as they'd shown him to that point. He learned to eat and walk and talk and go potty from them—after one or two disastrous incidents where he tried to learn from the cats first—but they hadn't taught him to like them, much less love them, or even to rely on them. What they did teach him was a huge, desperate hunger that he didn't quite understand, a need that a purring cat didn't quite fill, however soft and comforting she was. He knew he was missing something, but he didn't know what it was.
When Deputy Walsh started coming by while off duty, the aunts did not complain. At first they watched, conflicted, from windows and doorways as Tom Walsh tossed a small football back and forth with Rick, as Rick led the deputy by the hand into the garden to show him his collection of snake skins and crow feathers, as Deputy Walsh hung a tire swing from the big old oak behind the house, but when it became clear that the man had absolutely no interest in anything but the boy, that he really and honestly did think of the aunts as two old hippies who were probably growing marijuana in the greenhouse or in the cellar, that if anything he only disapproved of them so much because he thought they were doing an almighty bad job of raising their grandnephew, the aunts let them be. It was that much more convenient for them, they argued back and forth, if Deputy Walsh wanted to come by and play daddy now and again, because then they would not have to reproach themselves as much for so utterly failing to play mommy. | f1c60cd469f541ba94b856d215425e5d | ['85111e350e5f4c11861d1f3a7e7fa9ad'] | Everyone in town knew that Deputy Tom Walsh had taken his high school sweetheart's boy under his wing. No one knew what to make of it even as they couldn't stop talking about it, the patrol car parked on the street in front of the Grimes house three or four times a week. Local gossips did what they could, but if Deputy Walsh was the Grimes boy's daddy no one could figure where he'd found the time or the opportunity, since Regina Grimes hadn't been seen in town for nearly ten years and Tom Walsh had never taken enough time off from work to even drive his wife to see her relations in Kentucky. What everyone could figure, without much effort, was that Nancy Walsh had conceived in her heart a hatred of the Grimes boy that could make a rabid dog think twice. Nancy Cunningham had been Regina Grimes's bitterest enemy in high school, hating her as uncompromisingly as only a slightly-less-pretty girl could hate a slightly-prettier one, and Nancy Walsh seemed to have transferred all those feelings of insecurity, jealousy, and spite onto the Grimes boy. There was never any yelling at the Walsh house, the deputy never spent the night at the office or in his patrol car, but the thin, tight line of Nancy's mouth at the hairdresser's and at church told it all to anyone who cared to know. Not even the ministrations of her young pastor down at First Baptist could move her, though anyone who knew the Cunninghams could have told him it was a lost cause. That was one family where Christian charity stayed at home.
The boy on the porch looked like his daddy. He was one of those square, solid children, the kind who as boys were observed to be “healthy” and as girls to be “healthy, bless her heart.” He had his daddy's thick black hair, his daddy's deep black eyes, and, as if to make up for the first two, his daddy's nose. A body knew exactly what he'd look like when he'd done growing: taller, with a driver's license in one hand and a cold one in the other.
Rick and the boy stood on the porch looking at each other in silence. Rick wore jeans, a Falcons t-shirt, and his smokey; the boy wore jeans, a different Falcons t-shirt, and sneakers. The boy's hands were jammed into his pockets.
“Hi,” tried Rick, in a much warier tone than the day before. The boy was huge; if he picked up a rock, there'd be trouble.
“...hi,” said the boy. Slowly, as if he didn't know if he meant it. Under his voice, Rick could almost still hear the fading echo of the deputy saying _Son, you are gonna go over there and be nice to Rick or I tell you what._
“I'm Rick,” said Rick, almost mumbling. He felt his courage flagging. He wanted to make friends, because then Deputy Walsh would be happy, but he didn't know if he had the stomach to make friends with someone who obviously didn't like him. He almost preferred the rock.
The boy said nothing, just stood there staring with his mouth slightly open. _Maybe he's dumb,_ thought Rick, and was opening his mouth to say somewhat desperately, _I know your daddy_ , when the boy said, “'m Shane.”
Relieved, Rick said without thinking, “I know,” and then the two of them stood there at a sort of mutual loss. Rick saw Shane looking at his t-shirt and jeans and realized, for the first time with something like shame, that he was wearing some of Shane's old clothes. Just to be doing something, Rick stuck his own hands into his pockets.
“You like the Falcons?” asked Shane suddenly.
“Yeah,” answered Rick, taken off guard. The Falcons were Deputy Walsh's team.
“Me too.” Shane looked him up and down again. “Ain't you got shoes?”
“Course I got shoes,” said Rick, annoyed.
“Then why ain't you wearin em?”
“Cause there's cats in em.”
Shane blinked.
There was another, embarrassed silence.
The morning was hot, and getting hotter. Late July was when Rick started staying in the house, where it was always dark and cool, or only venturing out into the garden, where he wouldn't do much more than lie in the shade. The porch itself was deep in shadow, but still stifling—he could see Shane beginning to sweat. Rick thought he ought to invite him in, offer him a glass of tea, except for that stupid question about shoes.
“You,” started Shane, and stopped.
“You what?” prodded Rick. He could tell by the look on Shane's face that this was going to be another stupid question, but he wanted to hear it. He wanted to _know_ they would not be friends.
To his credit, Shane seemed to struggle with himself for quite a while before, in an agony of mortified determination, he finally blurted, “Are you a witch?”
Just like that, Rick was no longer so angry but a lot more impressed. But he kept his face blank and his tone steady when he said, “Course not.” Shane's expression both relaxed and fell, and he was opening his mouth again when this time Rick interrupted _him_ to add, “Witches are _girls_.”
Shane's mouth opened, closed. His black brows screwed up, and then he said, “Then are you—are you a _boy_ witch?”
“Well 'm a boy,” said Rick, knowing he was being mean but not feeling bad enough about it to stop, “an a witch is a _girl_ , so if you're askin if I'm a _boy girl—_ ”
Shane's face flushed, and the hands that he'd pulled from his pockets were fists. He practically shouted at Rick, “You know what I _mean_!”
“No I _don't_ ,” Rick shouted back. |
da3de3dd961249faaa7955b8cd011efb | ['851eb8221d4d4f30959885f397ce52ef'] | "I bet I will be. I've got a good feeling about this." Frank yawned and pulled the blankets over himself and Pencey who had crawled between them.
"We'll see, Alpha."
Gerard flicked off the lamp on his side, Frank doing the same with his, before they both moved to settle into comfortable positions.
Pencey laid with her back pressed against Gerard's chest and her arms and legs wrapped around Frank. She always entwined herself around him when she slept in their bed and Frank never once complained about it.
Gerard reached over and draped an arm over both of them, sighing contently as he thought about the future of their family. They were growing. This was such a perfect moment, everyone here together in bed, even if one of them was the size of a kidney bean right now.
"I love you, Daddy."
"I love you, too, Pence."
"I love you, Mommy."
"I love you, baby."
"I love you, Gerard." A huge smile was evident in Frank's tired voice.
Gerard snorted, amused by the exchange.
"I love you, Frank."
"See you soon," Pencey already sounded half-asleep as she recited their usual goodnight saying.
"See you soon," Frank and Gerard said in unison.
Gerard was sure he was the last one to fall asleep because he'd laid there soaking up the moment for as long as he could. He knew that in ten months things would be hectic and they wouldn't get as many quiet moments. He knew that things wouldn't always be this peaceful, so he didn't dare take it for granted. Instead, he cherished the feeling of his loves breathing evenly in his arms until he fell into his own dreamless sleep.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> HEYO, I GOT THIS OUT IN A WEEK THIS TIME! ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR FRNKXO! *one person clapping in the distance*
>
> I hope you guys like this fluffy chapter, I think it's very sweet. I intended to add a bit of a time jump in it, but I figure I can just save that for the next chapter.
>
> So tell me your thoughts! Baby predictions? Name suggestions? Plot suggestions? Go ham in the comments, I adore reading them!
>
>
>
> Anyways, eat your vegetables and stay hydrated! lov u all okai bai
>
> P.S. I wrote a smut one shot if you wanna go read it. You don't have to, but if you want to, feel free to! It's Frank/Gerard and A/B/O but it's a high school AU instead and it's not connected to this story at all. OKAY. LONG NOTE. GBYE.
3. Chapter 3
"I think something's wrong." Gerard worried, laying on his back on the couch, knees bent. He was sweating profusely and he'd been throwing up for the past week.
"Don't say that, you'll scare me." Frank chastised, his eyebrows knitting together. It was more in concern than in anger, Gerard knew that, but some part of his brain was having a hard time comprehending it at the moment.
"Don't be mad at me!" He whined, immediately dissolving into tears.
"Sweetie-" Frank reached out to pull Gerard into a sitting position, only for him to slap his hands away.
"Don't touch me!"
"Gerard, honey, I'm not mad at you." Frank tried, only to be cut off by Gerard gagging and covering his mouth. "Gee, if you have to throw up, you really shouldn't try to hold it down."
Before Gerard had a chance to respond, his nausea consumed him and he leaned over the couch to empty the contents of his stomach into the small trashcan they'd placed next to the couch. He felt Frank's hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles, as Gerard tried to catch his breath.
Once Gerard propped himself back up, Frank handed him an open bottle of Gatorade, which he gratefully accepted.
"Do you feel any better?" Frank asked from his spot on the couch by Gerard's feet.
"You ask me that every time." Gerard half-whimpered after swallowing the sports drink.
"Because I hope that one of these times you'll say 'yes'." Frank looked genuinely worried and it made Gerard feel guilty for having yelled at him a few minutes ago.
"You're so sweet." Gerard started crying again and Frank pulled him into his arms. He took the bottle from Gerard's hands and placed it on the coffee table in front of them. "I'm sorry I'm crying so much, I don't- I don't-"
"Shh, it's okay, Gee. Don't apologize. I know you can't help it."
"There's something wrong with me," He whined between breaths, sounding like an upset child.
"There's nothing wrong with you, honey."
"Yes there is! It wasn't like this with Pencey!"
"You had morning sickness with Pence. And you were... hormonal."
"Yeah, but it wasn't this bad. Everything is so much worse. I can barely walk to the bathroom without losing my breath and I can't sit up without puking. There hasn't been a single day in the past two months that I haven't slept excessively or cried over something stupid. There's something wrong, Frank. Something is different." Gerard explained, trying desperately to get Frank to listen to him. He felt crazy. He felt like Frank thought he was crazy. But Gerard was not crazy. He was very in sync with his body and he could tell when something was wrong.
"Look, maybe you just think it's worse because it's been so long since you've been pregnant."
"Frank!" Gerard pulled back from the hug that Frank had been keeping him in. He furrowed his eyebrows together in anger, longing terribly to punch his husband in the face. Not really, he'd never do that. But theoretically it sounded nice. "You're not listening to me!" | 3829d4a304f64407bb7850e59063342f | ['851eb8221d4d4f30959885f397ce52ef'] |
F is for Fishnets
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Someone tweeted about basement Gerard in fishnets and then my friend Frankie wanted me to write it, so... this. I hope you like it and I'm sorry I took so long! <3
He was finally home alone. His parents were out on a date and Mikey was spending the night at his friend's. (Boyfriend's, actually, but their parents didn't know that.) But that wasn't important. What _was_ important was that he had a few hours to himself. A few hours to blast music as loud as he wanted to, masturbate, eat all the food he felt like eating, and of course, crossdress.
Gerard didn't remember how he ended up liking crossdressing. Probably some rabbit hole he fell into on PornHub if he was being honest with himself. He also didn't really remember how he got the few articles of feminine clothing that he had in his possession. He bought a few shirts and skirts himself at the thrift shop down the street and he looked feminine enough as it was to not get second glances while he was shopping. But the thing he was most excited to try on today was the pair of fishnets he'd gotten recently.
He'd bought them a few weeks ago, actually, but he hadn't been home alone for long enough to get dressed up properly so he'd been eagerly awaiting when he could. The day had finally come.
As soon as the door had shut and locked behind his parents, Gerard ran (well, _quickly walked)_ down the steps to his room, shutting the door behind him. He put on a Misfits vinyl and turned the volume up almost as loud as it could go before digging in his closet to get his things.
He didn't have many options to choose from, but he tried to create a new outfit anyway. It wasn't as fun when he wore the same outfit twice. So, he pulled out his black skater skirt and a Black Flag t-shirt. ' _The red one, the one with the Slip It In cover on it.'_ he thought to himself. _'Red and black go well together.'_
He wasn't leaving the house but he pulled out his Converse anyway, figuring an outfit wouldn't be complete without shoes. He wanted heels, wanted them so fucking bad, but he had to save up to get them. He couldn't just get any old pair, didn't _want_ to, anyway. Besides, to get ones that would even fit he'd have to order them online and shipping was so fucking expensive...
Gerard sighed and took his fishnets from where he had been hiding them, then got up to change.
It didn't take long since the outfit was simple. The hardest part was tucking his balls into the panties he slipped on, but he managed eventually. After he tucked the shirt into the waistband of the skirt, it was hard to tell he was even male. It made his waist looked tiny and tucked in and he liked that.
It still didn't feel finished, so he filled in his eyebrows a bit and lined his eyes with black liner. Then he coated his lips with a red lipgloss he'd stolen from his mom.
And finally, he stepped back to look at himself in the full-body mirror in his room. A euphoric feeling washed over him as he looked at himself, pale skin filling out the fishnets and the illusion of a small waist. With the music playing, he almost wanted to wiggle his ass around, twirl a little, maybe even fucking _dance_. But then he caught of glimpse of something moving behind him before he locked eyes with them.
_Frank._
He must not have heard him come in because of the music...
They just stood there for a second, staring at each other, Frank clearly in shock, before Gerard rushed to turn the music off.
"What- What are you doing here?" Gerard stuttered out, not really sure why that was the first thing that came out of his mouth.
"I... thought I'd come hang out. Maybe spend the night or something, I dunno." He sounded... weird. Gerard couldn't place what it was in his voice, but he could only imagine it was judgment.
"Oh..." Suddenly he was glad he hadn't put any blush on. He would've looked even more like a tomato than he already did. God, his face was burning. "Okay, well... uh, go upstairs, I'll be up in a second."
"Gee-"
"Just go!"
He hadn't meant to yell and the sudden outburst made Frank flinch before he hesitantly turned around and walked up the steps.
It was only after he heard the door shut that he let out the breath he was holding. Gerard dropped heavily into the chair by his desk, tears immediately running down his flushed cheeks.
Frank saw him. He fucking saw him. Stared at him, even. He knew. He'd probably laugh at him, make fun of him, fuck, he would probably never talk to him again. They'd been friends for years and now that his secret was out it was all over. All because he liked to dress like a fucking girl in his spare time.
Eventually, the eyeliner diluted from his tears and it started burning his eyes, so he got up and wiped the makeup off. He tried to change into sweatpants as fast as he could, then pulled on a hoodie and forced himself upstairs.
Gerard's chest hurt from his muffled sobs, but he tried to maintain his composure as he walked into the living room. Frank was on the couch, hugging a pillow to his chest as he watched something on TV. He turned to look as Gerard walked in the room. Gerard didn't miss the once-over he got.
"Gee... were you crying?" Frank asked, his brows pulling together in worry. |
59f9292fceec40bea1078806afed5a2b | ['85799af21ee743af9a798ad5091c5d6a'] | Despite the harsh words and warning, Hitoshi couldn’t help but feel the burning fires of hope rise within him, even if he knew he shouldn’t have. The foster lady was most likely correct; whoever it was… they’d send him back, just like everyone else, even though he would thankfully be staying in the U.A dorms at the beginning of the next week. Hitoshi was jostled from his thoughts as he felt a sharp pain in his shin as the foster lady snapped at him once more.
“Well don’t keep them waiting; get your bag and get out of my house.”
Hitoshi mumbled a response, grabbing the bag full of his school supplies and few belongings, narrowly avoiding the stiff bristled broom that was nearly brought down upon him as he stumbled out the front door into the browning lawn, barley managing to avoid landing onto the massive ant-bed outside. Taking a deep breath, Hitoshi stood slowly and braced himself as he turned around to see… Ms. Inko, who was smiling brightly, only to have it falter as the foster lady opened the door once more and threw something onto the lawn haphazardly.
“Ms. Inko? What are you doing here?”
Inko turned her attention from glaring at the house behind him to Hitoshi himself, smiling warmly.
“I’m here to get you of course… I’m so sorry if this seems sudden and I know you’re going into the dorms, but I just… I just felt like you belonged in a family; my family, if you’ll let me.”
Hitoshi’s mind went blank and then a mile a minute, trying to process everything.
“But I thought- I mean… I’m not the kind of person who- and you have the Todoroki’s and Mid- I mean, you have your son… I’m not the kind of person who deserves someone like you…”
It took only a few seconds for Inko to cross the lawn to where Hitoshi was standing, wrapping him in a hug as she spoke gently.
“Don’t you dare talk like that Hitoshi. You deserve love and family and _more…_ Truthfully, I don’t deserve someone like _you_ , Hitoshi… I want you to know that. Right now, Fuyumi is overseas with investigators, talking to her brother who’s at college over there and Shouto and Izuku are already sharing a room; There’s plenty of space back home for you... there _always_ will be, even when you’re in the dorms and after.”
“But… But I… My quirk-”
“Is wonderful and amazing, just like you Hitoshi… Now no more moping! Let’s go home, okay?”
Hitoshi couldn’t help but laugh at the smaller woman as she led him towards her parked car and for the first time in his life, he felt at peace and the fires of hope turned into bonfires as his former home- no… his former _house,_ it had never been a home- faded from view.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> And that's how Hitoshi became part of the Midoryia household.
>
> Also, Izuku is doing his best and i love him.
49. Moving day
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> It's the day of the big move
The Midoryia household was bustling with motion as the four occupants double and triple checked their belongings as they finally gathered at the entrance, readying themselves to travel to U.A, Inko fussing to the three boys quietly.
“Do you three have everything you need? All your school supplies and anything extra you forgot to send to the dorms already? Everyone has my phone number, right?”
Izuku sighed as he shifted his backpack semi-nervously before speaking, the two other boys following his lead quickly.
“Yes Mom, everything’s here.”
“I believe I sent everything and my supplies are all accounted for Auntie.”
“I have my bag and everything, Ms. Inko… and Todoroki put your number in my phone, so I think I’m set.”
Inko smiled brightly as she nodded and opened the door, turning to face them once more.
“Mitsuki asked us to bring Katsuki with us today; She doesn’t want him going by himself and starting a fight somewhere.”
The three boys nodded and quietly followed their guardian, quietly chatting amongst themselves as they did so. The trip was relatively short, Inko and Izuku having traveled countless times to the Bakugou household, the ashen blond himself waiting outside as he yelled profanities to his mother, who was watching from the doorway, stopping mid-response to smile and wave towards the oncoming group.
“Hey squirt, nice to see you out and about! Be sure to keep Katsuki out of too much trouble, yeah?”
Before Izuku could respond, his friend took it upon himself to snap back only semi-aggressively.
“Shut the fuck up, you old hag! **_I’m_** the one who’s going to keep Deku out of trouble!”
Inko sighed before calmly leading the fuming boy towards the other boys, one of whom seemed indifferent, while the other’s eyes were full of either terror or shock, which Mitsuki noticed and laughed good-naturedly.
“Relax kid; the yelling is just a family thing.”
Hitoshi wasn’t convinced, but nor was he willing to argue with the yelling woman with a literally explosive son… so he found himself nodding and trying to hide his face in embarrassment. He was silently thankful when Inko gave a huge smile and lead the four boys away from the Bakugou household and towards the train station, only partially paying attention to whatever Bakugou was shouting.
As the group left, Mitsuki couldn’t help but crack a smile and snap a picture from her camera phone, turning to call her husband, who looked slightly exhausted as she held her screen up for him to see.
“Honey look; It’s a momma duck leading a squad of ducklings.”
The look of pure confusion from her husband’s face caused Mitsuki to burst into fits of laughter and was totally worth it, in her opinion.
****** | 4662eb58e4aa4e2780d1adcd91317f8b | ['85799af21ee743af9a798ad5091c5d6a'] | But the two knew each other like they knew themselves, leaving the two in heated combat that both knew would have no clear winner as their classmates watched on in silent awe. All Might himself watched the boys intently, seeing how the boys recognized each other as equals and how there couldn’t be a winner in this fight, the two knowing each other’s fighting style too well for either to gain the upper hand. While the two fought below, Uraraka snuck some loose stones she could find on the ground from previous fights into her pockets to use as improvised projectiles. As she neared a doorway, she could hear Iida rambling about something, trying to get into the mindset of a villain, which would have been funny if this wasn’t so important. Taking a pebble, she tossed it to the other side of the room as soon as the boy’s back was turned. He stopped what he was doing and turned towards the source of the sound walking across the room, proclaiming loudly;
“I know you’re there Hero! You will _never_ foil our genius, evil, Villainous plan!”
Uraraka sped over to the weapon and placed her hand on it as the testing alarm sounded the end of the session, saying casually to the confused (and honestly slightly betrayed) boy in front of her.
“Actually, we did.”
The heroes had Won, and All Might couldn't stop laughing.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> the kids ain't half bad, huh.
>
> (Urakaka is very, very confused but doesn't want to upset the green bean.)
15. Cat out of the bag
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> In explaining Izuku's success in the session, his status becomes more apparent.
After freeing Hakugure and leaving the training ground, the five students walked side by side to the control room where the rest of the class waited with All Might, all of them smiling as they entered the room. Izuku couldn’t see the awe his classmates’ faces held, but he did notice a few of them were bouncing on the balls of their feet in excitement (at least, he was pretty sure that indicated excitement) before All Might’s booming voice caught everyone’s attention.
“Well done all of you! Truly, we witnessed a sight to behold! Now, can anyone tell the class what might have been the villain’s downfall?”
There was a beat of silence before Yaoyorozu spoke, exhibiting her analytical side for all the class to see.
“The Villains sent Hakugure to patrol by herself! While that would have been a good strategy, the villains failed to take Midoryia’s quirk into account that negates the effectiveness of her quirk. Furthermore, they failed to take Uraraka’s quirk into account as a form of fast transportation when paired with Midoryia. From what we saw, the best prepared villain was Iida, having cleared the room he was guarding as he was the only one to take Uraraka’s potential quirk usage into account.”
There were mutterings of understanding at her explanation, which Izuku was just glad they were only seeing the positives of their strategy as All Might spoke one again.
“Correct my girl! However, you failed to explain Midoryia’s reasoning behind confronting Bakugou, knowing it was a battle neither one of them would win: to give his partner time free from a second opponent! Uraraka took her opponent’s transition into a villain’s mindset and used it to her advantage with misdirecting his attention! Are there any other questions before we continue?”
The students all spoke together, Izuku once again only catching snippets of their words.
“Nah, I think I get it!”
“That was _so cool_ Midoryia! And splitting up wasn’t a bad idea Bakugou, if Midoryia hadn’t seen right through it!”
“Bakugou and Midoryia are pretty much glued together, so seeing them fight was **_really_** unnerving, but insightful!”
The next group went to set up after All Might (somehow) managed to regain control over the borderline unruly class and Izuku sat off to the side, with no sound coming though the monitors for him to listen to. Uaraka couldn’t help but feel like something was off with him, still unsure on how he could possibly miss Hakugure’s quirk. She knew she might regret her next actions, but she couldn’t sit around idly as she walked over to where the boy sat and lowered her voice to a whisper, not wanting to risk his anger or embarrassment at her question.
“Hey Deku, why didn’t you notice Hakugure’s quirk? It’s _really_ obvious when you see her… are you okay?”
Izuku knew he’d have to tell the class eventually, since he was unsure of how he’d be able to keep his condition a secret in the long run, and he might as well start with Uraraka, who was too close to the truth. Izuku took a deep breath, knowing her eyes were on him as he spoke barley whispering the words, he hated to say to anyone.
“I’m blind Uraraka. Hakugure’s quirk is obvious if you can _see_ it, which I **can’t**.”
Uraraka nodded quietly, having suspected as much, but not wanting to risk upsetting him by bringing it up, but knowing she couldn’t just avoid it. Unfortunately for the two of them, _everyone_ had heard and All Might wondered if he’d have to hold Bakugou back, as the young man looked like he was ready to kill the poor girl for asking such questions. Midoryia stiffened, having realized the room was silent and sensing everyone looking at him. The tension broke when Bakugou spoke in true Katsuki fashion;
“If Deku wanted to tell you little shits, that’s his business. But don’t you _dare_ try to shit on him because he can’t see, or I’ll kill you. Deku’s got more guts than **_anyone_** in this room, got it?” |
7871b5da05214d96bbfd3f402ccd5ee7 | ['8584e389942d48c69d86136ff6afa615'] |
1. The 5 Year Late Hug
**Author's Note:**
> this has a ton of major spoilers
The reunions made Thor so happy, yet so depressed. Witnessing all the families and friends reuniting with one another, watching the tears and smiles and hugs.
Thor wished he had that. He grabbed a remote, pressing down on a button to turn on the TV. He flipped through channels, and almost every channel featured all these reunions. The news channels were the worst, seeing all these happy families seeing all their brothers and sisters again.
He was truly happy for them, for everyone, but he just couldn’t stop thinking about it. How he lost everyone. How he had no one.
And it was all his fault. If only he was better. If only he was stronger. Maybe he’d be with his brother and mother and father. Maybe he’d have a happy family.
But there he was, Thor Odinson, the only Odinson, alone. Of course he had Rocket, but it just wasn’t the same. It hurt. Thor felt so empty, like a black hole was forever on his heart. Things would never be the same, never get better.
Maybe he just needed a drink. Just to get his mind off of things. Maybe he needed a few drinks.
Thor was aware of what everyone says, that drinking isn’t going to make anything better. That drinking won’t bring his brother back. That drinking won’t bring his kingdom back. But he didn’t know what else to do than to do the same thing he’d been doing for the past 5 years.
Thor had opened up Netflix on the television, placing down the remote and then getting up with a sigh, cracking his back and stretching for a moment. The God of Thunder walked out of the living room, and made his way over to the pantry.
No one was here anyways, his drunkenness wouldn’t effect anyone. There were too busy with their family and friend reunions. The only person here was Bruce, who was downstairs and working on some science thing.
He opened the door to the pantry, it was rather barren. The new Avengers facility was just put in the first available large building in New York City (which seemed to be a major place for super villains, apparently. Why didn’t any evil guy go to Wyoming? Probably because it doesn’t exist.)
It was still being set up over the few days he’d have been there. To accommodate anyone who may have been staying there. And since it was in the middle of being set up, there was barely any food. Thankfully, there was a nice six pack on beer in the corner.
And more than a few beer bottles from the previous days littered everywhere. To any normal person, it’d reek of beer, but to Thor, it smelled just fine. He heard a noise, raising his eyebrow for a moment, and then forgetting about it. Probably just the TV.
He sighed for a moment, picking up the six pack and then sitting down for a moment, scratching his beard with a sigh. He closed his eyes for a moment, popping one open and taking a few sips.
After a few moments, he decided that the floor wqs uncomfortable, especially when there was an entire couch waiting for him to melt into. So Thor stood up, beer in one hand, and the rest of the pack in the other, and with a sigh, he walked out and made his way back into the living ro-
...Something was on the couch.
He noticed a figure in the corner of his eyes, and he stopped in his tracks. Did something break in? He swore the windows were locked. He really wasn’t the the state of mind to have to have a brawl, especially when that brawl could cost him his tv screen.
“It absolutely reeks of cheap beer in here, brother. What have you been subjecting yourself to?” Thor knew that voice from absolutely anywhere, and immediately dropped the beer, a loud crash being heard as his heart stopped.
Thor’s eyes welled up with tears as he stood still, unable to move as his lip quivered. How could he have been here? Was this even real? It couldn’t be.
He heard him die. He saw him die. He touched his dead, lifeless body. He examined it for any hint of life, any trace he was breathing. There wasn’t a possibility he could be alive, there was no way he’d have gotten out of that. This wasn’t real.
“I don’t even get a welcome. I’m assuming you’re never going to give me that hug you owe me?” Loki was sort of offended, looking at him. “It’s half a decade late, which is practically nothing in the grand scheme of the universe, but it has been quite a while.” Loki pouted for a moment, hoping Thor would come out of the shadows.
Thor walked out, examining his brother fully. Loki, upon noticing his brother, was immediately concerned for his well-being. He couldn’t even make a snarky comment about it, he genuinely felt some sort of remorse.
Loki had pondered on what had happened to his brother? Thor was always so resilient, almost invincible in his eyes (he’d never admit that, of course). He never saw his so depressed, so broken. He genuinely cared for him, but he just didn’t know how to approach him about it. Communication was never his family’s strong suit, so he decided to avoid it by making a few more comments, like he always did.
Thor finally opened his mouth, but he was still silent. He was just in utter disbelief as tears slowly rolled down his face. But honestly, Thor didn’t care how he was back, or what he did. He just was happy his brother back, that’s all he wanted. | d5983d69258046f6a73fc920e4190d74 | ['8584e389942d48c69d86136ff6afa615'] | He pounced towards his brother, pulling him into a hug, sobbing loudly. He hadn’t felt this sort of joy in years. A feeling of utter relief and happiness flooded over him, as he held his brother tight, never wanting to let go.
Loki immediately flinched, but he let it happen. The trickster hasn’t felt any sort of affection in years, and the thought of someone genuinely giving him any form of platonic love perplexed him. Especially his family. After all, how could his family even love him, a monster? How could his brother even want to touch him without reeling in disgust. How could his brother be happily crying due to seeing him? Loki couldn’t comprehend it.
Thor finally pulled away, sniffling, a large grin on his face as he stepped away.
And then he finally asked the question:
“...How?”
2. Julius Caesar Will Be Touched Up On More Later
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> just wanna clarify that any mention of love in this is purely platonic and dont take it any other way pls
Dying was never really Loki’s thing— well, staying dead wasn’t really his thing. It was his brand at this point.
However, with the situation with Thanos, he truly had thought he’d met his maker. Of course, he could’ve just tesseract’d away, but for what? To leave his brother to die?
Don’t tell Thor, but Loki actually cared. He wouldn’t admit that, though. Spreading genuine affection wasn’t a strong suit of his, and it was humiliating to tell someone he cared.
He missed the relationship he had with his brother. He shattered it once he willingly fell off the bi-frost into a void of space and time. He honestly wished it’d had just killed him as he intended, but he preferred to not think on it. Things with Thor would never be the same again.
Anyways, he’d truly thought Thanos would be the end of him, and he’d be accepted into the glimmering gates of Valhalla.
Or Hel. Probably Hel, considering his track record, no amount of sacrifice or attempt to be “good” would fix him enough to be in Valhalla with his mother. A broken mirror will never be good enough, no matter how much glue you use.
But the next thing he knew, he had the tesseract? It was definitely strange. He was in mid-transportation when he was conscious, and he was certain he just stole an alternate version of himself’s body?
He would’ve much preferred not existing over accidental body stealing, but at least it was his own body. But unfortunately for him, his hair from 2012 was horrific, and his body was not having a fun time from all the torture, tesseract traveling, and the ass-kicking he’d presumably gotten from the Hulk ten minutes prior.
Loki had landed in the past, presumably in his timeline. He assumed that maybe he took control of alternate his’ body when it travelled to this timeline? Makes no sense, but it was possibly just infinity stone magic, or an fanfic author’s half-assed attempt to explain how Loki is alive because thinking of an actual explanation took too much brain power.
It was 1347, near Crimea. Everyone was dying or something due to some plague? Black Death or whatever, sounded edgy. He had awoken in some random place, no one was around to accuse him of witchcraft after randomly teleporting into their camp.
There was some war going on, and everyone was mad. He was a fanatic about wars, always so fun to see the absolute chaotic fest that always went down. He was at a Mongolian army camp, where everyone was dying of the Black Plague apparently, and some general was absolutely losing it.
His army was dying and was being reduced to corpses, AND he had to attack this trading port called Kaffa. This general was absolutely venting to everyone around him.
Loki slunk against a wall, attempting to get more information from the general, and he suddenly had gotten an idea. He, of course, was immune to the plague, considering how he was practically immune to all human ailments, besides mono, for some reason.
Loki watched as one of the general’s trustees had walked out of the room, and that gave him the opportunity to let an illusion cover him, transforming himself into someone the general would trust.
And Loki had an absolutely perfect plan. A plan that’s be absolutely chaotic. And chaos was where he thrived best. And it was just a fun little thing to get his mind off how he had gotten squeezed like a handful of blueberries and made into an overpriced smoothie.
Loki stood up, wiping himself off, as he walked into the general’s tent. All-speak was to be a blessing for him once again.
”My apologies, my general.” Loki bowed with a slight smile, as he looked towards the general. “It is just an idea had come upon me as I had left the room, and I’d like to share it with you.”
”What is it?” The general asked, looking at him, squinting his eyes a bit, obviously intrigued.
”It seems as if the disease that has been afflicting our army is contagious, so perhaps maybe if he hurled the afflicted corpses into the city, the death would take them down, and we wouldn’t have to send in a single well man.” Loki suggested, the smirk on his face obvious as he presented his idea to the general. He was excited to learn the outcome of his brilliant plan.
The general was just as excited, and thanked him for his service, and went on with it. They hurled the plagued corpses over the walls, which caused the plague to spread all over Kaffa.
Of course, what Loki didn’t know (at the time), was that it’d spread towards the merchants, who’d carry the plague onto ships to flee, and spread it all over Europe. And kill 60% of Europe’s population.
Thanos would be jealous. |
4cfae0abdc87411b92ab69b719956908 | ['859078dcaa204727b7b66bc10681c8eb'] |
A dream?
**Author's Note:**
> So, I've read some takes on what takes place directly after Miguel managed to spark Cocos memory and Héctor escaped the Final Death. This is one of those fics, one of the several ways I imagened how this could be. Please note I'm not a native English speaker, or Spanish for that matter, and I have no beta-reader. So if you find any mistakes, that's all me, and I apologize for that. This is the first piece I've written in quite a while, so I'm a bit rusty as well. Please read and comment if you wish.
"Imelda?"
The groggy voice came from her bed, where she had instructed her brothers to place her husband earlier, when they got back home from the stage after Miguel had managed to spark Cocos memories. She turned from her position by the window to look at him.
He was lying down as before, but his eyes were open and focused on her.
"What are you doing here? You should be with your family" Your family, not theirs.
"Be silent, mi amor, and go back to sleep. You are not well." He blinked at her for a moment.
"Sleep?" His head turned then, eyes following in a sweep of the room, taking in the sparsely furnished space before relaxing back onto the pillow. His lips formed a little smile, at the same time relieved and filled with pain. "Oh, I'm dreaming. Of course it's a dream, the real Imelda doesn't want anything to do with me."
She blinked, and rose from her vigil to walk closer to Héctor. She had not expected this, but it was not surprising. Successfully avoiding the Final Death was unheard of, and noone knew how he would react when concious again.
His eyes found her face again, and she could feel them lingering on her markings, as if he'd never seen them before.
"You are still the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on, Imelda. It's like you haven't aged a day from when I last saw you."
"When you last saw me?" Curiosity made her to ask, before her mind could stop her. His smile grew smaller, more sad then she'd ever seen before.
"The day I left," Her non-existing heart jumped at the memory those words sparked in her "You were furious with me for leaving, and kept yelling at me and I thought it was a miracle, that this remarkable woman had agreed to become my wife, and had given me a daughter. That you would care so much that you would yell at me for walking away."
He paused for a moment, and she took the time to search his face. His bangs still fell over his forehead, jetblack just as in life, and why that detail hadn't made her question everything she believed about his life after their separation before she didn't know. His multicolored markings along his forehead were so much like him, his personally reflected in the colorful swirls and slopes.
His eyes had changed, Imelda wasn't sure if this new change was for the better or not. The eyes, so beautifully dark and comforting in life, had gained a red tint to them. How or why she didn't know, and wasn't sure she wanted to. His cheekbones were just as protuted as when they were alive, and she remembered how she would brush her knuckles along them for hours, liking the feel of him beneath her hand.
Without thinking, her hand reached out and her fingers reached his cheeks in a caress. His breathing hitched and his eyes closed. She wondered how long it had been since he'd been touched with kindness and her own eyes closed, to keep from building up moisture. Blinking them open after only a few seconds, she resumed her tracking of his features. She wondered about the gold tooth, and could only smile at the ever-present goatee her husband still sported. Her eyes fastened on her hand on his cheek and marveled at the difference in colour.
While her skeleton was a pristine white still, his was yellowed with numerous tiny cracks running over the surface. Imelda felt another wave of sadness grab at her.
"I would have stayed, Imelda." Her eyes lifted to his, and they were once more focused on hers. "I would have stayed, but I made a promise to Ernesto, to give this dream of ours a chance. You don't know how many nights I lay awake in one hotelroom or another, thinking back to that day and felt the regret burn through my body. I don't blame you for hating me, Imelda. I wasn't a very good husband or father. I'm sorry, for making you face life alone."
Her empty chest cavity clenched, as if her heart still dwelled there. Imelda had not expected those words to have such an impact after all this time, and she had to remeber that he thought he was dreaming, to him this conversation was a figment of his dream world and would not be remembered the next he woke up. If the last memory he had of them was on the day of their parting, she could only assume he didnt' rememer that she now resided in the land of the dead and couldn't tell her in person.
She scoffed at her own thinking. Of course after the first and only time they met here, he wouldn't have dared to approach her anyway. Filled with anger and resentment against the man who had promised to come back but never did had made her vicious, her words hard and unforgiving. She had seen his whole body sag and the hopeful smile dwindle as her speech continued and not giving a second thought to how he came to be in the land of the dead. She had watched him slowly shuffle away from her, his gait not yet a fullout limp, with his head down and battered hat clenched between his hands. He never tried to speak with her again.
“Héctor, please try to go back to sleep. You're still healing after last night.” His eyes caught hers once again, not showing even a glimmer rememberance for what had taken place just hours before. She sighed quietly. “Well, let me tell you about life after you disappeared then, mi amor.”
She told her husband about learning to make shoes, the joy of finding a craft to support her daughter. How Coco grey more pretty each year and more like them both then she would think possible. How the business flowered and their family grew. She left out the parts about the shaky start of her own business and all the difficulties it meant to be an indipendent woman back then. That was a discussion for later, when a bit more time had passed from recent events and they both were more balanced.
She had not gotten far before she noticed his eyelids drooping lower with every blink. Her fingers started carding through his still-black hair as she softened her tone. Soon his breathing had evened out and his head had fully relaxed back on the pillow. She sighed again.
“It's not going to be easy, Héctor, to get us out of these infected thoughts. It's been too long for us both to be able to shake it off and go back to how we were in life. But I'm ready to try. I've never completely stopped loving you, even if I fooled myself and every other person in our family. I'm going to be here when you wake up again, and we'll try to go forward from this.”
She rose, paused and ran her fingers down his cheekbones once more, and she could see his mouth twitch up in a tiny smile at the touch. A small smile graced her own lips as she turned and left the room. They had time when Héctor was better. They had all the time in the world now. The door to the bedroom closed with a soft click. | be7a0a65e8cc48d99c0e22f7aaf005f3 | ['859078dcaa204727b7b66bc10681c8eb'] | Hi Mom
It was right after dinner that day when Levi saw him sneaking away. During the day, Eren had been distracted and it was obvious his thoughts were elsewhere. An hour before lunch, after the fifth time the boy had hit the ground in a spar with Eld, Levi had dismissed him from any more combat training for the day. Instead, Eren had gotten orders to clean every room on the third floor, including the bathroom. Levi would of course inspect it all later.
Levi had felt a slight worry when there was no reaction other than a ”Yes, sir!” at the change of chores for the day, but then duty had called and he was locked inside his study for the rest of day, his thought comsumed by all the reports that awaited his signature.
Now though, Levi saw the young titan shifter slip out of the castle door. Not that he was following him per say, it was just his responsibility to make sure the brat didn't do anything stupid. As he was not-following Eren, Levi noticed the boy clutching something in his hand. He seemed to be making his way to the forest.
Levi tensed slightly. If the brat tried to run he would have no other choice than to lock him inside the dungeon at all times unless he could supervise the shifter himself. But he couldn't understand why the kid would suddenly just run. He seemed to be doing ok, no special events had occured that might have made it seem like running away would be a good idea. Maybe it was teenage hormones, the brat was probably just feeling neglected of some other shit.
Eren was slowing down now, stopping inside the edge of the forest. Far enough away from the castle that he wouldn't be seen unless they squinted and carried a torch. Levi took up his watch in a nearby tree, years of honed skills making him virtually soundless. He stared down at the kid. Eren kneeled down on the ground and Levi winced internally, thinking how much dirt were going to stick to the white regulation pants.
Then Eren unwrapped the bundle in his arms and set out a few items before him. Levi could make out a candle holder and candle, two small and simple cups, and a small canteen filled with liquid. Eren sat down, lighted the candle and poured the liquid inside the cups. When steam rose from them a familiar aroma made its way up to Levi. The kid had pilfered some of his favorite tea. Thought of different ways to torture the cadet filled his mind, he almost missed it when the kid bedan to talk.
”Hi mom. It's been awhile, several years in fact. I'm sorry about that. There's been a lot of thinghs happening so I haven't been able to make it until now. It's been a hard few years, and it seems it's going to get harder still. After Shiganshina, Mikasa, Armin and I managed to stay alive long enough to enter the military. The training was though, but bearable. I made it into the Recon Squad, mom, and they're all great, the people here. I won't bother you with all the details of what happened to get me into Recon though. All I can tell you is that it was surprising to say the least.
You see mom, it turns out I can shift into a titan. It feels totally unreal and I wish it was a lie but too bad. I hope you don't hate me now, most people do it seems. All the recruits from my training days seems ok with it, but I know what they say behind my back, and I see the fear and disgust in their eyes when they look at me. It's ok, I understand the feeling. Then there's the other members of my Squad. They're all experienced titan exterminators, so it feels both safe and scary to be with them. They're also scared of my ability, and with good reason. I don't know what could happen if I lose control of my Titan, so it's comforting to know that they can end it.
Then there's my Captain, Levi. He's short and seems very strict and he swears very much, but he always makes me feel calm about being a titan. He has responsibility for me, and if something goes wrong he will kill me at once. It's nice to know that, makes me able to sleep at night, knowing that he's just a couple of stairs above me.”
There was a long silence, Eren sipping at his cup.
”I'm gonna head back now mom, before someone notices I'm gone and come looking for me. I'll come talk to you again some time soon. I'm not sure if I will be here, or if we move locations before then though.”
Eren packed away the few things he'd brought before standing up, letting the candle shine his way.
”Happy birthday mom, I love you.”
With that, he turned around and started his way back towards the castle. When he was far enough away, Levi jumped down to the ground. As he started to walk himself, a glint in the corner of his eye stopped him. When he looked towards it, he could just make out the outline of one of the cups the kid had brought. Levi let it stand where it was. |
19049147ee024c7986d3138c7abffe74 | ['85c658ebcbd7452db5156d05d118cb1f'] | Chenle’s chest felt so incredibly tight, no amount of deep breathing was going to fix this, but it was worth telling Renjun about, anyway. Maybe he’d be willing to offer advice now.
Chenle inhaled through his nose, like the doctors usually tell him, then exhaled through his mouth. He repeated the process a couple times, still feeling the same amount of nerves present as there seemed to be the last couple times he had taken a deep breath.
“This is so cool, Lele! Thank you for taking me up here!” Jisung enthused from behind the telescope, breaking Chenle away from his thoughts. He smiled, looking up at the sky. It was beautiful. The black from where the sun was no longer hitting at all faded into dark blue, which faded into purple. The sun was nowhere near visible anymore, but somewhere it was illuminating just that part of the sky for Chenle and Jisung to watch the black melt into blue and cool into purple. Chenle was so happy he got to share this with Jisung. He was so happy that he knew he loved Jisung.
“I am glad you like it. Do you wanna take a picture?” Chenle offered. Jisung watched him take out his camera. He carefully taught Jisung how to take a clear photo with it, what settings to use, and how he should hold it. He was a little confused at first, and probably somewhat overwhelmed, but his smile made the whole thing worth it.
That smile could win awards. It was worth so much more than any word or picture or person, besides its owner. Chenle had an affinity for that smile.
“Ah! Lele, look! It is so pretty, ah…” Jisung sighed and titled his head. He was so amazed by the picture he had taken, it was cute.
“It looks nice, Jisung, but it is getting late, do you wanna walk home?” Jisung looked up from the camera that he was previously messing with. He nodded enthusiastically before trying his best to figure out how the camera turns off. “I can get you that picture so you can post it later or something,” Chenle offered.
“Yeah, that would be cool, thanks Lele. And thanks for all this again, it was really fun!”
-
“Jisung can I tell you—” Chenle stopped in the middle of his words when he saw Jisung’s mom standing in the doorway of Jisung’s home. He didn’t want to tell Jisung anything like that in front of Jisung’s mom. “Never mind… I guess, this is good night? I will see you tomorrow?” Chenle asked like it was a question. He was probably going to see him, he had seen him every day since he had been doing this whole fake dating thing for Jisung.
“Yeah, I will see you tomorrow.”
When Chenle thought he was just going to turn away and go back home, his whole heart _shattered._
It was _nothing_ like he had imagined.
Jisung’s lip were against his. They _did not_ fit together. There was no symmetry or hold on the other’s lips that kept them perfectly aligned. There was no _time_ that the kiss held that would dictate it as a first, only a last. There was nothing in the kiss that that he had asked for. There _was nothing_ in the kiss aside from a whispered apology between the two. He felt _nothing._
The kiss was like being emptied.
-
❤️
Jisung wanted to do it again. And again and again and again.
He wanted another change, to make it _right_.
He wanted to pull away and see the boy he really loved kissing to smile or laugh or bite his lip. He wanted to pull away and see the boy he _really loved_ loving him, too. He wanted to pull away and see anything but the grimace that was painted across his lips.
Jisung wanted to cry.
His mind ached for a break. He wanted to forget what the world was and why he stuck in it, making stupid decisions just like so many humans who would never understand that they are the reason the world is so ugly. He didn’t want to be just another ugly person they world had to carry. He wanted to change the way the world carried so much useless weight.
He didn’t want to become useless weight.
He didn’t want to hurt his best friend.
He didn’t want to hurt the boy he loved.
He didn’t want to hear his phone buzz from the nightstand next to him.
He _had_ to talk to Chenle.
-
It wasn’t long before the boy found himself on the others’ doorstep. Or before he was tumbling into the building, and finding himself all the way in the others room. It wasn’t until he was sitting next to Chenle on the bed that he felt as if he regained conciousness. He knew he knocked it right back out of himself when he kissed Chenle. Finally _kissed_ Chenle. It was no joke.
The kiss was immature and messy but Jisung loved it all the same. He begged with an ache in his lips that Chenle loved it just as much as he did. He pressed back and kept pressing back and he fell right on top of the older, yet smaller, boy. Jisung just wanted to be lost in this absolute embrace. He whispered “I love you’s” between kisses because Chenle already told him he didn’t want to hear “sorry” before or during a kiss every again. Jisung was sincerely sorry but there were three words that made that easier to say.
When their mouths parted, small words fell from Chenle’s lips, “Will you stay?” he asked.
Of course, Jisung wanted to say, but he couldn’t. The weight of Chenle’s words felt like they had held some sort of double meaning, and Jisung doesn’t know what, but he wants to know everything about Chenle, so this might be a start. “What do you mean?”
“Forever,” he said simply. “But I can mean now.”
Jisung smiled. “I wouldn’t mind staying forever.”
**Author's Note:**
> i'd like to give a big thank you to @flirtnana for letting me write this !! it was so fun and gosh i just ,, ! thank you so much i really hope you liked it ! | f33295dad4fc418e8bde643c35b838e6 | ['85c658ebcbd7452db5156d05d118cb1f'] | “I just…” Chanhee took his arms off the table and put them in his lap. He leaned back in his chair while he looked down. Meanwhile Kevin searched his face for _ something, _ some hint of what he was trying to say. “You make me really, really happy, Kevin,” Chanhee finally spoke up, only looking up at Kevin to acknowledge him. “You give me hope and make me want to keep up what I do, and it isn’t only that, but there is something about you that I have been missing in my life.” Kevin wasn’t one to cry, but he could have sworn that he was about to start. His throat seemed to swell and he could feel his face turn red as he watched Chanhee’s do the same.
“You are beautiful, Kevin, and I don’t mean _ just _ how you look. You are amazing, and I’ve never felt like _ this _ over someone, but I want to feel it all the time, with you,” Kevin noticed that Chanhee started to tear up. With two pieces of chocolate cake between them, Kevin wanted to just get up and hug the boy. There was _ nothing _ stopping him, yet he was frozen. _ Was this okay? _ “I think I _ really _ like you,” Chanhee finished, letting out a sob at the end. _ This had to be okay. _
“Why are you crying?” is all Kevin could think to ask, even though tears threatened his eyes at the same time.
“You are too!” Chanhee pointed an accusing finger at him as he laughed and wiped away the tears that were staining his cheeks. Kevin wasn’t crying nearly as much as Chanhee. Tears did threaten his eyes, though, but he didn’t plan on letting any spill from where they pooled and burnt his eyes.
Kevin wondered what more he could say to comfort Chanhee, but he wasn’t sure. There were so many reasons that Chanhee could be crying. He wanted to understand _ why _ Chanhee was so stressed about telling Kevin what he had. Kevin could understand a number of them, but there _ had _ to be at least one that stood out to Chanhee himself. “I’m not crying like that,” Kevin laughed, blinking away his tears. “I am crying because you are, and I want to know why you are!” he tried to subtly ask again.
“I don’t want you to leave! I don’t want to not be able to see you everyday!” Chanhee suddenly blurted out. More tears welled in his eyes before quickly spilling over his cheeks, “And I know it is selfish, but I think I…and…” he was crying too hard to make coherent sentences. Now, Kevin _ did _ get up and walk over to him. With his good hand, he stood him up and hugged him, Chanhee’s face burying itself in between Kevin’s shoulder and neck.
Standing like this, they stood there for a minute. Kevin tried to console him with little things words like “It’s okay,” and “I like you, too.” Kevin rubbed his back, his hair, anything to calm the boy down. Kevin _ didn’t _ want to be a stresser on anyone. After a minute, Kevin looked him in the eye, wanting to say something more than what he had. “I _ do _ like you, and I _ do _ have to go home, but Chanhee...if you think I wouldn’t come back for you, you are wrong,” he explained with a smile. Kevin lifted a hand to wipe the tears from Chanhee’s cheeks, “Let's stop crying tonight, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Chanhee nodded, sitting back down as Kevin did the same.
✈️
Two large suitcases sat in front of Kevin, and only some of his clothes were in them. Both of his hands were usable now, and it had been two weeks since he had _ seen _ Chanhee, but only about five minutes since his last call with him. Kevin had to admit, he didn’t expect to ever be in a long-distance relationship with a celebrity, but there was something about this that he was extremely happy with. Maybe it was the fact that everyday he got closer to going back to Chanhee, he knew he would get to see the person he was convinced that he was in love with sooner.
Now that his phone call had ended, he continued to pack more things into his suitcases. He had so much to take since he was pretty much _ moving _ to Korea. It was a big decision, but he decided that he would be able to study in Korea next school year. Besides, when was he going to have this opportunity _ again? _ If Chanhee moved on, there was no more seeing him, no more being with him, no more getting to know him, cuddling with him, talking to him, cooking with him...no more anything. It would just be Kevin. And it would just be Chanhee. They _ wouldn’t be _ connected.
Right now, their only connection was through phone and facetime. This was fine, but this wasn’t how either of them wanted it to always be. Because of this, Kevin continued to put things in the bags laying in front of him, packing away everything he loved, everything he needed. He would be in Seoul again in only three days, and he experienced many emotions knowing this, but mostly happiness. He was eager to see Jacob and Sangyeon again. He was eager to learn about schooling and take Korean lessons. He wanted to walk the streets once more, maybe with the boy he wanted to call his boyfriend.
✈️ |
1086660856d34773abfdba0afb2e7524 | ['85ca8f81f0af464b8b4a4817f015724f'] | “I’ll mark you proper when we’ve finished up here,” the Prime says, and Starscream squirms uncomfortably at the look he’s given, and how similar it is to the one the Fallen had given him when he’d returned, alone, from Earth. “This will do for now.”
Starscream glances back once more, and he withers uncomfortably at Megatron’s glowering gaze.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I have a headcanon that Seekers in the Bay verse originally served the Primes.
>
> And we have a running thing that Sentinel is a fucking creep about it.
25. Not Yours (Crosshairs/Drift)(Implied Drift/other)
Crosshairs had the tendency to talk while giving him his transfluid.
Short things, breathless things. So ready for me, Sweetspark… You feel so good wrapped all pretty around my spike… Going to pump you up nice and full… Going to give you _everything_ …
It annoyed Drift, having the dirty words of a lover whispered in heated pleasure in his audiles, while the mech who wasn’t his rightful mate draped himself comfortably over his back, and supplied his body with what it needed to keep his protocols from devouring his own frame for the materials. He felt no connection to the act, no pleasure, only duty. Interfacing with his teammate was a means to an end, and he’d been promised from the very first time that this would be as detached as possible, that Crosshairs wouldn’t do anything more than give him what he needs.
Words let slip, even under the haze of pleasure, violated that promise. But still, he’d tolerated it.
Whatever gets Crosshairs there, Drift had reasoned. Whatever gets it done faster.
He’d thought himself used to his mouth by now.
But tonight he’s caught off guard.
“Do you think he’ll look like me?"
His fingers curl gouges into the Earth, and Drift shutters his optics and buries his face deeper into his tightly folded arms. The sharper dentae at the back of his jaw grind together as he restrains himself from responding to the uneasy clench Crosshairs’ words evoked in his spark, the startled thought that enters his processor, _that he doesn’t know_. Try as he might though, holding in his noises, not saying anything, refusing to look and acknowledge what it is he’s doing, he can’t hide the way his valve squeezes at the spike thrusting steadily deep inside him.
It doesn’t matter how he feels about it, his body knows what he— _what his creation_ needs, and his mesh continues to ripple and pull around the intruding spike to draw forth the sustaining fluid.
"I’ve fragged you so many times, it might as well be my bitlet growing inside you.” Crosshairs moans an airy chuckle against the back of his neck as his hips pump steadily in and out, and the arm that’s looped under his frame drags down his chassis, his servo groping Drift’s lower plates where his armor hangs distended, awkward and heavy with the weight of the large pod still growing inside him. Another moan vibrates against the back of his helm. “Made all from me."
And just like that something inside him sparks, _reignited and alive_ , and the flames he hadn’t felt in years scorch away at his very being.
Crosshairs’ hips snap and grind forward against his upturned aft, the thick head of his spike pressed tight to the roof of his valve and the small aperture to his holding tank, and Drift disconnects his vocalizer entirely as his optics roll back, pleasure unwillingly coursing through his veins as he gives an involuntary shiver, and overloads.
He’s too disconnected by the burn, the almost painful twisting in his chest to notice when Crosshairs finally reaches his own completion, pressed flush along his back and pulsing into him with stuttering, uneven ruts; but he feels the flood of warmth seeping in, and the drip of it between his thighs, and he knows it’s finally done.
Drift snarls.
” _Get off._ “
He shoves back violently before the dazed Crosshairs can have the time to even process the command, and the green mech falls back and lands on his aft with a startled yelp. His panel is snapping firmly shut as soon as his spike has slipped free, trapping everything in, even though Drift would like nothing more now than to let it drain all the disgust away.
Even more than that though, he wants to whip around and tear the tubing from Crosshairs’ throat. For the degradation, for even suggesting that Drift’s creation could be considered _his_.
What right… _How dare he_ …
Without a glance or another word, Drift hauls himself up onto shaky legs and storms out of their little hidden spot behind the trees. The secluded place had been his one piece of comfort when all this first started, knowing that no one else would be able to see his infidelity, but now he has to escape it. Before he takes that knowledge that no one would see, and uses it to dismantle his teammate’s worthless frame.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I feel like a long-winded explanation kinda ruins it, but if you're confused feel free to ask orz
26. Prime and Seeker (Sentinel/Starscream)
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> I HAVE SO MANY DRABBLES SAVED ON MY TUMBLR AND IN MY PHONE'S NOTES WHERE IT'S JUST SENTINEL BEING AN ASTRONOMICAL DOUCHE TO STARSCREAM.
>
> And a headcanon throughout all of them that Seekers are supposed to serve Primes, and Starscream hates it.
>
> So here's three of those little drabbles. Not really meant to be read as a whole story, but you can interpret it like that if you want. | 6f1b5a58b8504edf89006b2abe03e02b | ['85ca8f81f0af464b8b4a4817f015724f'] | Megatron squeezes his hip, tightening his hold as he turns his head and presses their helms together. He mutters, firm and unwavering as they continue to rock together, “he’s going to be perfect.” And he really does.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Someone should write me something. Like, totally, give me that procreative smut and idk I'll write you whatever the hell you want. Doesn't even have to be smut. I just want some bayverse Megastar to read that isn't my own...
20. Chase (Megatron/Starscream)
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> something kind of old from tumblr, but I felt the need to update this with _something_
Flying high in the upper atmosphere, reaching speeds never before attempted with his engine burning and the resistance near none on his wings, Starscream had him fooled for all of three seconds.
First, with the realization that he was alone; high above the Earth, and the Seeker that had been tailing him for hours no longer anywhere to be seen.
Then, with the surprise and shock, realizing that he’d actually done it; he’d actually somehow managed to out-maneuver his Air Commander in the last place he ever thought he’d be able.
Then, finally, another shock; hitting him as hard as the jet that comes barreling out of nowhere and slamming into his underside, as he’s suddenly knocked out of his flight path and sent careening back into the lower atmosphere. He’s hit at such an angle, purposeful and deviously calculated, something vital in him is jarred on that critical impact, and he’s forced back into his root mode mid-fall. And he drops like a rock.
Starscream is on him again before he can even feel the impulse to fight back, the Seeker swooping in and latching onto his frame as smoothly as he’s executed any maneuver in combat. The trill of his vocalizer is lost under the roar of wind whipping past as they plummet down, frames burning and lighting up the sky, but he doesn’t have to hear it to know.
Maybe just to spite him though, just a final quip before relinquishing his brief moment of control, Starscream coos again from his position on top of him inside the sizable crater their landing had left in the Earth; his wings hiked high and tilted back in smug pride. “I’ve got you, Master.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So, like, in a lot of fanfictions it's typically the other way around, right? But I'd got to thinking how Seekers are characterized in the fanon as being interface or at the very least sparkling crazy, so a chase where they're the ones being chased down would be pretty pointless then, since they'd be more likely to roll over all "yesss take me!!" than put up an actual fight lol
>
> And yeah... Starscream chasing down Megs for his hatchlings is an image that just amuses me so.
21. Heat (Megatron/Starscream)
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Had a convo on tumblr about Starscream topping for once lol
It’s not the act itself, but the relief it gives him that has Megatron groaning aloud as he slowly lowers himself down on his Second’s spike, his optics flickering and his servo tightening viciously around the Seeker’s neck in order to keep him where he wants him as he takes him to the hilt.
It’s been centuries since he’s felt this creeping warmth invade his frame, and it’s persisted inside him now for too long to be allowed to go on unchecked, clouding his processor and obscuring his judgement; finally feeling something other than his own claws pushing inside him is like a sweet relief of its own, a cooling dowse of water to quell the flames still burning inside, and Starscream’s long, tapered spike alights and soothes all those heated internal nodes just perfectly.
He can feel Starscream moving underneath him, his wings twitching noisily against the metal berth as his hips rut up into his leader’s valve, and Megatron is content to just sit there and let him, enjoying the friction as their plating grinds together, his engine growling as every halted thrust brings about another sharp stirring of pleasure deep inside him.
“Master–” Starscream chokes off under the pressure of his servo, his hips stilling for just a moment, “–allow me–”
A moment too long, and another whine vibrates along his palm as he presses harder, his claws squeezing tighter until not another noise escapes him, and he feels the undeniable pulse of arousal in the Seeker’s thickly charged field as his spike throbs inside him.
“ _As you were, Starscream_ ,” he warns, his claws uncurling just enough, and his Second’s rasping whimper as he shakily starts up again alights a familiar possessive fire in his core. Reminding how, even like this, even where lesser mechs would be reduced to little more than scrap for the smelter in their painful heats, he still is able to reign in control, to keep his subordinate as he should be; beneath him.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Yeah, I can't picture Megs ever being submissive.
>
>
>
> ~~but on my tumblr the conversation was basically about how whenever I try to imagine a situation with Megs using his valve nothing ever comes of it, because my mind always goes back to how much older he is than Starscream, and then just how fucking DRY his old as dirt valve is, so someone suggested the heat trope lol~~
22. Domesticity & Parenting (Megatron/Starscream)
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> A drabble collection within a drabble collection. How meta. |
7ade059b1e18416aacfe4012a3c457c1 | ['85d6ed03e89645f5b16835f318ab03b7'] | "Well I'll be damned if it isn't the spectacle himself, Park Jimin." Standing in front of him and Taeil was a slender, handsome man. His snow white hair had been styled back,his dark roots were prominent and contrasted well against his complexion. He sported a sleeveless denim vest with red pants that were a bit tight along with black shoes. Each wrist and his neck carried a red collar. Even if really wasn't the time, Jimin was in awe. This man was as equally good looking as he was terrifying.
"Lee Taeyong. Do you always meet up in storage units? I thought you'd be smarter than that." Taeil's voice had a certain venom laced in it. "You must be dumber than I remember." His hand rested against his weapon, though it was concealed for now.
"Yes, well. Had I planned this out too much, I wouldn't have landed eyes on our little prize. Jimin being mixed in with your bunch is making the news in these parts. How'd you land him?" The icy haired male raised an eyebrow at the obviously nervous Jimin.
A dry smirk landed itself upon Taeil's face. "He chose us. What's wrong, you jealous? Figures, since you'll always be second best." Taeyong stepped closer to the two. While Taeil didn't budge, Jimin took a couple steps back.
"He's too new for this, I guess. If he's already stepping back." Taeyong chuckled. "You sure you're cut out for this life? I heard you just joined today so I guess you don't know your boss yet." Taeil tensed as Taeyong tilted his head up. The older male's hand gripping the younger's hair tightly to tilt his head further back. "You know something Jimin?" He gave a smirk and short chuckle. "I really prefer knives over guns, they just-" He flicked open a blade, dragging it across the other's neck. "They really let the other person feel what's happening to them."
Jimin's face paled as the younger let out a choked sound. Watching Taeil hold his throat as blood poured over his hand. Hot, acidic saliva flooded his mouth, the sign making his stomach muscles clench wildly. He leaned up against the building lightly, trying to not lose any contents in his stomach. "You.. Holy shit you-"
"Killed him? Yeah, I did." Taeyong laughed as the body went limp. "Go tell your boss what's happened. Unless you want the same thing to happen to you." Everything felt like a blur as the blade was suddenly pressing against Jimin's neck too; just enough to draw a bit of blood. "Tell Min Yoongi, he couldn't protect you last time. He sure as hell can't protect you this time either." With a content hum, the man backed away and disappeared around the corner.
"Min.. Yoongi?" With reality sinking in, Jimin sunk to his knees. He hadn't even known the other a whole day, yet now he was lying dead in front of him. Tears burned as they fell down Jimin's cheeks. Not only was someone dead because of him, but he didn't know where to go or who to tell. His whole body felt weak, his vision blurry. He couldnt seem to catch his breath. Unable to do anything but stare at the body lying in front of him. He knew he couldn't linger for long, that he couldn't be caught already. It'd fuck up too much too soon, but he just couldn't get himself to move.
2. Old Emotions
It had taken Jimin some time to gather his composure. His face was well beyond red and puffy as he used his shirt to wipe tears from his face. Just what the fuck had he gotten into. This was too much. Despite not wanting to, Jimin eventually left the body and started wandering back to the apartments. Would someone be moving into Taeil's place now? He'd rather not think about it. He had wondered for a while before running into a younger, brown-haired boy.
"You must be Jimin, right?" The boy gave a friendly smile, but after the events, Jimin was wary of everyone. "You're definitely on the airways in gossip right now. I bet boss is pissed."
"So am I safe to assume you're on my side?" Jimin furrowed his brows, exhaustion evident on his face.
"Yes, you are safe to assume that. I've already heard about Taeil. I'm sorry you had to witness that."
"I'm sorry." Jimin's voice had gotten quieter. He felt angry with himself. Angry that he was unable to do anything in the moment.
"We all know that's how it is in this business, Jimin. Don't let it eat at you too much or you'll drive yourself crazy." Mark patted the other on the back.
"So uhm.. I need to know something." Jimin audibly swallowed, thinking hard about what Taeyong had told him.
"Oh, the name's Mark by the way."
"No, it's not that." Jimin shook his head "Is- Is Min Yoongi my boss?"
"I think you already know, I can't give you a yes or no on that, Jimin. It's best to not ask." Mark gave a slight shrug.
Jimin followed Mark back rather quietly. He paid attention to his surroundings and any people he passed. Wondering if they knew him too, he kept his head low. His stand out pink hair was standing out too much at this point. Mark kept glancing back at Jimin and soon threw his jacket around the older. "It has a hood, you can hide that pink hair."
"Are you a mind reader?" Jimin gave a soft yet cautious smile." | 89f003e96f6f4e0a9238d7eb018c644b | ['85d6ed03e89645f5b16835f318ab03b7'] |
1. Too new
“So you want to play my game?” A voice came from the other side of the dimly lit room. It smelled of iron and the walls appeared to be painted a dark red colour, though it was hard to tell for sure. A warehouse of sorts. Park Jimin stood in the middle of it, a single light shining on him, unsure of what he was really getting himself into. Being unable to see the other male’s face made the situation all the more stressful.
“..Yes, I do.” Jimin gave a small nod at his words as if reassuring himself of the answer.
“Alright. So you want to. What makes you think you have what it takes?” He could see the figure shift in their seat.
“I have nothing to lose, so I have no reason to be afraid.” Jimin gulped softly. He /was/ afraid, but knew he couldn’t show it. He could hear the other give a soft chuckle.
“Alright. You have some guts it seems. I’ll give you a probation period. See if you have what it takes. Who knows, Park Jimin. You might be good at this.” The male waved their hand causing another figure to appear seemingly out of thin air. ‘Follow him, his words. He’ll report directly to me. I’ll know of any fuck ups, mistakes, anything good you do. All of it. Understand? He’ll show you where you’re living now too.” Before Jimin could give an answer, the other was leaving the room.
“Nice to meet you Jimin. Call me Taeil.” He didn’t extend his hand, simply started walking as Jimin followed. “I hope you know what you're doing.”
“I do.” For the rest of the walk, Jimin followed quietly as they came upon some apartments. “This is.. Pretty nice..”
“Yeah, well. If you want to keep it, don’t fuck something up.” Taeil handed him a key. “You’ll be moved if you do.”
“Moved? Where to?” Jimin’s brows furrowed as he unlocked the door and swung the door open.
“Don't worry about that. I’m next door so if you need me, knock.” Jimin gave a small thanking nod before walking inside his own apartment.
The apartment was pretty spacious; much nicer than Jimin had expected. He sat down on the couch, not really feeling comfortable yet, but hoping to settle in soon. He wondered what was considered bad enough to be moved and where he would go if he was. If you get moved down, do you also get moved up? Would he go get his old things? What did his boss even look like? He had a nice voice, it sounded so familiar but Jimin couldn’t quite place it.
He wasn’t quite sure what to think of Taeil yet either. Maybe that’s just how he greets everyone. Did everyone greet the new people that way? Getting up to walk around the place, Jimin took mental notes of small, unimportant details. Colours of furniture, what type of furniture was there, what food he did and didn't like in the fridge, etcetera. Though soon enough a knock broke him out of his thoughts.
"Jimin, open up." Jimin opened the door to a rather annoyed looking Taeil. "Do you have a cell phone by the way? I need your number." Taeil handed his phone over and waited for the other male to input his number. "I'd say I'll text you as soon as we have work, but we have work. Congrats. Someone's been snooping so we're going to check it out." Jimin gave a short, small nod before stepping out and shutting the door behind him. "You don't talk much do you? That's not a bad thing, but if you're scared of me. You should be, but don't be."
"Okay." Jimin followed behind Taeil. "So, what is it we have to do exactly?"
"We're going to make sure our little snooper isn't relaying info to anyone and if they are- well, I'm sure you know." Taeil gave a shrug. Jimin mouthed and 'oh'. He was somewhat surprised at how nonchalant Taeil was being. He must be used to it by now. "Know how to shoot a gun?"
"Oh uhm.. no." Jimin seemed more sheepish. Nerves? Maybe.
It felt like forever before they found themselves in a maze of storage units. Jimin simply chose to not question it. "Stay close to me." Taeil's voice was hushed and his movements had started being more careful. Jimin stayed close behind, taking notes of his actions and carefully imitating them. "You want the front or the back?" Taeil glanced back at the other. "On second thought, just stay behind me."
Voices could be heard on the inside of one of the units.
".. Park Jimin?"
"Yeah, that's wild, isn't it? Who would've thought?"
Taeil glanced back at Jimin, not expecting his name to be floating around already. Shit like this always happens, but he had hoped in Jimin's case it could be delayed. "Great. That's a whole shit storm of complications." The male gave a weary sigh and continued listening, though Jimin was more interested in why they knew about, or even cared about, him. It's not like he was anything special, especially in a life like this. The door letting out a loud creak caused Taeil to pull Jimin off to the side. "Fuck, now they decide to move around?" The younger furrowed his brows, his face written with worry and concern. For a first job, he wasn't doing much. He guessed he preferred this over the alternative.
Looking around his environment, it didn't give many places to hide or give cover. He was having to place his trust in the younger, whether that was good or not. He didn't really have any choice. Simply having to get out of sight had his heart racing. He continued looking for any means of safety but got pulled out of his thoughts once again. |
278233cef3d7419abebc2ca089025d78 | ['85e912ab62ae40fcbf1ff57bed760e00'] | It would be enough for her to keep her scholarship alongside, of course, with her grades and second place was better than nothing, but she would have to work harder to get gold the next time as her trainer had told her ( _scolded_ her, really). Maybe if she trained an hour more every day? She would need to wake up a bit earlier to –
“Look! There she is!” Juvia heard a familiar voice say and it brought her back from her thoughts and what she saw made her stop on her tracks.
There were eight people there, all of them with smiles on their faces and clapping. Lisanna had a sign with _‘Team Juvia’_ written in glitter, Cana had another saying the same thing with their University colors and Levy had another one. The next thing she knew, Lucy was hugging her.
“You were _amazing_!”
Still confused and amazed, Juvia hugged the blonde back. “What are you doing here? Juvia thought you left.”
“Without seeing you? Fat chance.” Cana stepped closer and put her arms around the two girls. “You got the medal!”
“Silver.” Juvia said, looking down, her eyes watering a bit. “That’s the third one in a row. Juvia will need to do much better now to-”
“You are kidding me, right?” Lisanna was exasperated. She gave her pink sign to Natsu and went to stand next to the blunette. “There were twenty girls tonight and you won the silver medal by such a small margin it is the same as if you had won the gold! And you were pretty great!” Lisanna looked to the others from the group. “Wasn’t she great?”
“So great!” Droy and Jet said at the same time, nodding.
“Very manly.” Which was a high compliment coming from Elfman, she learned.
“It was _so_ cool!” Natsu cheered. “I couldn’t do half of that without breaking at least a couple of bones after falling.”
“That’s because you’re a moron.” Gray said, slapping his friend on the back of his head before looking at Juvia. “But he is right, it was very cool.”
Juvia could feel her cheeks get warmer when she looked at him; handsome as always, wearing a white coat and staring at her with a smirk on his lips. God, she hadn’t felt that way for so long regarding a boy she had forgotten how the rapid heartbeat and sweaty hands made her feel silly.
“Thank you.” She whispered and looked down.
“Well, now we need to celebrate your win.” Cana said and everyone cheered.
**#**
Just like when Gray’s team had won their game, the group went to Frank's Burgers to party and Juvia was having the night of her life, watching her new friends tease and fight each other. Just like the other time, she felt more than welcomed by everyone there.
Seeing that many of them had to work or classes early the next day, it was just a little after eleven p.m. when they decided to leave. They were sorting themselves out with rides when Juvia told them she would just take the bus.
“You are _not_.” Cana gasped.
“It’s _late_. No one is going home on their own.” Levy pointed out.
“But-”
“Don’t fight it.” Natsu said from a few feet away while he had his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder. “When they gang up on you, it’s pointless.”
“We will convert us to our side soon.” Lucy winked.
“Oh, great. Just what we need: another girl in your army to dictate our lives.” Gray rolled his eyes in annoyance but even Juvia could see it was fake.
“That’s not manly.” Elfman muttered, after all he had Lisanna and Mirajane as sisters; plus, Juvia knew he had a girlfriend who traveled a lot for her work and he was as whipped as they come, according to Lisanna’s gossip.
“It’s just that Juvia lives very far away and-” The blunette tried, but was cut off.
“Another reason you are taking a ride.” Cana said with a final tone. “Lisanna is going with Elfman, obviously; Jet is taking Droy and Levy home; Natsu is taking Lucy and I am taking a ride from Gray, since we live at the same direction, and now you are coming with us. It’s closer for Gray to give you a ride than anyone else.” She shrugged. “Now come on,” the brunette took Juvia’s hand and pulled her “you too, Gray. I need my beauty sleep.”
“You should sleep more, then; it’s not being very effective.” Gray said under his breath and Juvia had to hide a chuckle when Cana stated she heard him.
**#**
“Well, this is me.” Cana informed when Gray pulled over a simple building. She had insisted Juvia took the passenger’s seat next to Gray, telling her she would be dropped off first and that way Gray wouldn’t be like a chauffeur. “It was fun tonight, congratulations again, Juvia.”
The blunette smiled over her shoulder to her friend and then reached for her bag, looking for her phone – she hadn’t texted Gajeel yet about the results. When she found it, she looked to her side and saw Gray looking at the back of the car over his shoulder.
“ _Shut up. Shut. Up._ ” He whispered, paying no attention to the woman next to him, while speaking with Cana.
Frowning, Juvia looked to the backseat and saw the brunette pointing in Juvia’s direction rather persistently until she saw Juvia watching her. Cana, then, smiled. “Good night.” She leaned between the seats and kissed Juvia’s cheek and then Gray’s, whispering something to him, laughing when he told her to leave.
Gray looked at her, cheeks clearly rosier than before. “Forget about her. Where do you live?” Once she told her the name of the neighborhood, his eyebrows rose in surprise. “You _do_ live far.” Gray pulled away from Cana’s driveway as soon as she was safely inside. “There are good apartments next to the University, you know?” | e54adf4a2a404e0f9110a8b9a1cb6498 | ['85e912ab62ae40fcbf1ff57bed760e00'] | One day after classes were done, they were making out in a somewhat secluded area of the castle when Bora’s hand slid from her thigh to underneath her skirt and Juvia pushed it away. He tried it again and as usual, it started raining on top of them.
“I can’t do this anymore.” Bora released her way too roughly and took a few steps away from the small cloud atop of Juvia. “I can’t touch you anywhere because it starts to rain!” He got his wand and dried his clothes with a spell. “And I would like to touch my girlfriend.”
“And you can!” She said, desperately trying to calm him down, she liked him and she liked to be liked back. “Kissing is fine, it’s just that Juvia isn’t prepared to go any further than that and-”
“Well, _I_ am.” He told her. “And if you are not, then we are not on the same page about this. We should break up.”
Being left behind while the other kids played outside flashed in her mind, all the time she was rejected because they were sure she was going to make it rain any time and now… he was rejecting her for that same reason.
“No.” She whispered. She hated rejection, she would do anything not to- “Please, no. We... We could try again to-”
“No.” His tone was decisive. “Nothing I planned with you worked out. Everyone knows whoever Professor Porla picks, is elite and I knew it was a long-shot but you weren’t even able to suggest me getting into the Duel Team, but at least you were hot. You couldn’t give me even _that_.”
Juvia could hear her heart shattering. Not that she thought she’d grow up and marry him, but she still liked him, liked to spend time with him and he was saying he used her…?
“What?” She whispered.
“We are breaking up. Good luck finding a guy who won’t mind getting soaked to the bone while touching you.” He started to walk away. “Good-bye, Juvia.”
The witch just stood in place for a few moments the little cloud making rain very hard around her. Hearing footsteps coming her way, Juvia saw a male’s restroom close by and without even asking, she got inside: she didn’t need anyone asking her what happened. Thankfully it was empty, so she locked herself in one of the stalls, pulled the toilet lid down, sat and just cried.
Professor Porla said she was going to be happy there, that she would find people who liked her power, who’d appreciate her and besides her little group, everyone was afraid was of her, and her boy- well, her ex-boyfriend just broke up with her for being too powerful and couldn’t control her magic, since his schemes didn’t work.
She was _lied_ to.
Juvia sobbed more and more, rain falling inside the stall and as weird as it sound, it comforted her a bit, it was what she was familiar with.
“Uh… is everything alright in there?” She heard a deep male voice and she almost jumped from her seat from outside her stall. “There’s a trail of water coming this way and now I can see why.” The cloud stood higher.
“I’m fine.” She sniffled.
“Oh.” He sounded surprised. “You… you are a girl. At first I thought someone had wet himself and had come this way but then I heard crying and saw the cloud and I knew it wasn’t that.”
“I’m fine. I’ll… be gone soon and clean the water up too.” She sniffled again. “Don’t worry.”
“Okay.” The boy sounded hesitant and Juvia actually heard he take a few steps away before he returned to the front of her stall. “I’m sorry, I can’t leave you like this. My foster mother would kill me and so would my friends and I wouldn’t be too happy with myself either.”
“That’s sweet but you can go. Juvia is fine.” She sobbed the last word.
“Sure you are.” He was clearly uncomfortable. “So what was it? Failed a class?” She didn’t answer so he kept going every time he didn’t get a reaction from her. “Fought with a friend? Made a Professor angry? Lost too many points for your House? Boyfriend issues?” She sobbed. “Oh, so it was the boyfriend.”
“He broke up with me.” She sobbed and the rain poured harder. “Because every time he wanted to go further, I got upset and it rained.”
The boy stayed in silence for a moment. “Then he is a bloody _moron_! Be glad you got yourself ridden of him!” He almost growled. “Everyone knows there’s time for everything, including… you know.” She felt her own cheeks get warmer Man, when my female friends said all boys were idiots I didn’t believe. Now I do.”
Juvia actually chuckled at that and the rain became lighter. “Not _every_ boy. You seem nice.”
He actually chuckled. “Give it time. I’ll be an idiot too, just in a different subject. I’ll probably fight my best friend over the last piece of whatever’s on the menu for dinner tonight.”
“You know they refill those, right?” She was feeling slightly better.
“I know that, _that’s_ what makes me an idiot.” Juvia laughed and the rain stopped altogether. “Oh! There you go! It stopped.”
“It did.” She blinked in surprise. Juvia always had trouble stopping the rain, and she was still upset but somehow that unknown boy had made it stop with just a couple of jokes with her, taking her mind out of it. “Thank you for that.”
“Sure.” His voice was already far away – he was heading out, apparently. “Now that you are feeling better, I’ll leave you alone to recompose yourself. Just remember to check when you leave the stall. This is a boy’s restroom after all. Bye.” |
0a74c365903542c98fbca2e05f4dfa05 | ['86062602602c49fcb01bba262a6ab030'] | **Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
~ Take the Dragon Wagon to Clown Town ~
_Day 1_
Dragon woke up somewhere that definitely wasn't her house, much less her own comfy bed. She found herself sleeping outside on the grass. The very green, very pixelated grass.
"We're not in Kansas anymore," she said, even though she wasn't actually from Kansas. "Kids won't get that reference, though." She sighed. "I feel old... Anyway! Time to see what's up with this pixel world."
After walking for a little bit, she realized.
"This looks like a Final Fantasy game!"
Then she suddenly and conveniently got captured by Gestahlian soldiers, because video games work like that.
_Day 2_
After spending a night in the castle dungeon, Dragon was still in a pretty good mood, because hey it had only been a single night so it wasn't like she was starving or tormented with strange thoughts yet, and also she could tell just from the shape of the toilets that this was her favorite Final Fantasy world: Final Fantasy VI!
She wondered if she was going to meet all her favorite characters, or if she would just be stuck down here in the dungeon the whole time only seeing the generic soldier characters.
"Ooh, will I see Kefka?!"
_Day 3_
Another day passed and Dragon was still stuck in the dungeon. She was starting to wonder if the soldiers had forgotten to tell any of their commanding officers that they put her in here or something, since she hadn't seen hide nor hair of any human beings since the day she was captured and put in this cell.
"When do I get to meet Kefka?" she grumbled to herself. She was bored. If she had to be stuck in a video game world, then she wanted to do something exciting, not be locked in a dungeon the whole time!
_Day 4_
"The beast we captured seems to be sentient," General Leo reported to the Emperor. No one in the empire had ever seen or heard of a fire-breathing wolf with dragon wings on its back before. "It has begun to complain of hunger, so we threw it some raw meat. It complained and asked for hot peppers and yogurt to go with it."
"And did you give it peppers and yogurt?" Gestahl asked.
"We did," Leo replied. "Even more worrisome, however, is that the beast knows Kefka's name somehow." Hesitantly, he continued, "We... believe it may be an Esper."
_Day 5_
On the morning of the fifth day since her arrival in this world, Dragon was rudely awakened by a loud fart, followed by someone clanging on the bars of her cell.
"Hello, little beastie!" Kefka called out, cackling. "I heard you've been talking about me. That fool Leo thinks you're an Esper, and while you do seem to have magic of some type, you are quite obviously NOT an Esper."
"You're right, I'm not," Dragon replied. "Leo's an idiot."
"Leo's an idiot!" Kefka shrieked, laughing even harder. "Listen to this creature... I like it!"
_Day 6_
General Leo protested the decision to let Kefka keep the creature in his room as a pet, but his objections were overruled by the Emperor on the grounds that it was definitely not an Esper, and maybe having a pet would chill the crazy clown out a little.
"But it's a _sentient_ creature," Leo argued.
"So are chocobos, and look at how we treat _them_ ," Cid pointed out.
"And besides that, the creature itself seems perfectly amenable to the arrangement," the Emperor added. "So I don't know what you're making such a fuss about. So that's settled!"
_Day 7_
"Let's burn things," Kefka said, readying a Flare spell.
"Yes, let's burn things!" Dragon replied excitedly, wagging her tail. "Villages, towns, forests, deserts- no, wait, not deserts. Those won't burn."
"They will turn to glass with enough heat, though," Kefka replied thoughtfully.
"Alrighty then, let's turn the deserts to glass. That sounds like a plan to me."
"Hmm... that doesn't sound as fun as burning things that actually burn," Kefka said. "But if turning the desert to glass is what you want, then let's do that!"
It was the beginning of a psychopathic and beautiful love.
~end~ | 5efb72dfbf60480e9d9ba34ce3a1af81 | ['86062602602c49fcb01bba262a6ab030'] | _Why did we even have that there?_ Lamia wondered.
"Three Dark Queens is obviously the best ship!" She paused, raising a thorny tendril to the mouth-like part of her petals. "Or maybe it's GnurrRoo."
"GUYS. I mean ladies. Whatever gender and species y'all are. ARE WE SERIOUSLY SHIPPING FICTIONAL LAWN ORNAMENTS NOW?"
"Well, Lamia... I mean. That ship is, like, at least half your fault."
~oOo~
5. 10 Reasons
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This chapter was for part of a challenge, and for this level of the challenge, the prompt was a "10 Reasons X does something" fic.
>
> I got frustrated with the assignment and eventually just went meta with it.
~ Dragonia Dark Moon Chronicles ~
"TEN REASONS LAMIA IS GOING TO FINISH THIS DAMN CHALLENGE," Dragon roared at the snake monster demon lady who was staring listlessly (pun intended) at her computer screen. "ONE: Snek can DO IT."
"Well," Lamia responded. "I mean. Yes, technically, it's possible that I could, but-"
Dragon cut off her protest, "TWO: Snek doesn't want to disappoint da mermaid!"
"True."
"THREE: Snek wants DEM PRIZES."
"Yeah, I can't even get the giftfic if I don't finish level ten, and Chelle already had me tell her what I wanted so she could start working on it..."
"FOUR: There is no four!"
"That... that's not even our meme."
"Dragong don't give a flying fart whose meme it is."
"But... you weren't even a part of the site where that was a meme... how did you even know it...?"
"Nevermind that! FIVE: Dragong is going to beat Snek's muse with a stick like it's a god damn piñata if that's what it takes to make ideas fall out!"
"... wait, what?!"
"You heard me! SIX: Dragong believes in Snek. Smiley face."
"Aww. Your faith in Snek is making me blush! But why did you say 'smiley face'?"
"Because I'm speaking, not typing. If I was typing I would have put a smiley face emoji after that."
"Tilde, heart, tilde, music note, smiley face," replied Lamia, cackling.
"SEVEN: To prove to anyone who thinks you won't finish it that they're wrong!"
"That is, like, my 82nd-favorite thing to do."
"EIGHT: You words good."
"I... sometimes. I mean. Like, half the stuff I write on a rushed deadline is a steaming pile of crap."
"One monster's crap is some toilet's treasure!"
"That's not a real proverb. You're making shit up."
"NINE: YOU CAN DO IT!"
"Now you're starting to repeat yourself."
"It's alright, the list is almost over anyway."
"Ooh, I wonder what the final reason is..."
"TEN: BECAUSE I SAID SO!"
"That's not even a reason..."
"It is if I say it is!"
"I don't have to listen to you! You're not my real dad!"
"What is that reference even from? AND YES, GO WRITE." Dragon held up a long wooden stick and waved it menacingly. "Don't make me use this."
"Ha ha..." the snake monster laughed weakly as she slumped over her keyboard.
~oOo~
6. Why We Ain't Friends No More
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Based on actual argument we had. XD
~ Dragonia Dark Moon Chronicles ~
"Awwww yissssss," Dragon said to herself, as she chose a prompt for the next Shipping Week. "Anteater is the BEST. PROMPT. EVER!"
"Dragon, what the ever-living _fuck_ ," hissed Lamia. "That prompt is bad and you should _feel_ bad."
"It's a good prompt, though!" Dragon argued.
"There is nothing good about it! It's useless and terrible!"
"Whay are you being so mean to me?" Dragon asked, as tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. "There are so many things you can do with that prompt!" She proceeded to give examples.
"Those are all cracky and irrelevant to anyone on the forum's fandoms!" Lamia snapped. "That's it. I've had it! I officially declare use mortal enemies!"
"Can't we still be friends?" Dragon asked, her tears nearly overflowing.
Lamia tore off the friendship bracelet that Dragon had made for her and threw it on the ground, then slapped the end of her tail down on it in an approximation of an angry stomp.
Dragon sobbed uncontrollably.
"I just love anteaters so much!"
"Then go be best friends with one!"
~oOo~ |
2cc152f143454cb2b14b222e066d9c4a | ['860e8a5331c946cd8570a59b044b7e86'] | "Oh?" Suddenly, Yellow has Patrick held forcefully in his arms. Patrick hadn't even noticed him move around and grab him. He tries to struggle, but Yellow is too strong for him to break away. "Are you sure about that?"
"Yes," Patrick answers through clenched teeth. He's lying. He's obviously lying. He is so, so scared.
"Well then-" Red starts, stepping forward, but he's cut off by a loud yell.
"What the _fuck_ are you doing?"
Patrick whips his head to the new voice, and his heart drops when he sees who it belongs to.
"Pete..." he says weakly. "What are you doing here?"
"I walk this path every night!" Pete exclaims, looking wildly between Patrick and his captors. "What the fuck is going on here?"
"Pete, get-" Before Patrick can say "away", Yellow and Red have shared a look, and Red has Pete restrained like Yellow has Patrick.
"I see we have some leverage." Red's knife is against Pete's throat in a flash. Patrick nearly chokes.
"Let him go," he pleads.
"If you cooperate, we won't hurt him," Yellow says with a grin. His own knife is suddenly pressed against Patrick's arm. "Now, what were you saying about us having the wrong guy?"
Patrick's heart is nearly beating out of his chest. Fuck. They can't do that here. Not in front of Pete. Not now.
"Don't!" he yells shakily. "Fine, you got me! I'm who you're looking for! But please, don't do that right now!"
This was the wrong thing to say. Yellow smirks. "Your friend doesn't know, does he?"
"Doesn't know what?" Pete asks, eyes shifting wildly between Patrick and Yellow.
"Don't you fucking-" Patrick begins, but it's cut off by his yelp of pain as Yellow digs the knife into the skin of his arm.
Silver seeps out of the resulting cut, and dribbles down his arm, dripping softly onto the dock, where it pools and shimmers in the moonlight.
"What the fuck?" Pete yells, staring at Patrick's bleeding wound with wide eyes. Patrick is helpless to do anything but stare back as the blood drips down his arm, with the threat of Red's knife on Pete's neck ever-present.
"I never thought I'd see this in my lifetime," Yellow says with an evil-sounding snicker. "You _disgust_ me. Almost as much as whatever idiot did this."
Patrick chokes on his breath. _Joe_. He hopes that, if anything, they haven't got Joe. If the last words he ever says to Joe end up being - _no_. He won't even consider that.
Patrick starts struggling again. He almost manages to get out, too, but Yellow's grip tightens again.
"Careful," Red threatens, pressing his knife a little harder into Pete's neck, but thankfully still not breaking the skin. "I still have your friend."
"Patrick, what's going on?" Pete asks shakily, still staring at Patrick. He looks afraid. Patrick feels sick.
"Maybe we need to make it a little harder for you to run, hm?" Yellow suggests, pulling something from his pocket. At first Patrick can't tell what it is, but then he realizes - it's a paper cup.
Patrick laughs bitterly. "You utter fucking asshole."
Still keeping his tight grip on Patrick, Yellow bends down and dips the cup over the dock's edge, filling it with the churning water below. He straightens up again and holds the cup threateningly at Patrick. "Only fitting you'll get to die as what you were never supposed to be, huh?"
"Fuck you," Patrick hisses out. His heart is going a hundred miles an hour. He wants to fight back, to get away, but he can't risk Pete getting hurt. And Yellow's words reveal a new reason to be afraid - they're going to kill him. He'd suspected, of course, but now that he knows for sure...he shudders. This isn't how he wants to die.
Pete is trying to look away, like he doesn't want to watch any longer. Patrick doesn't blame him. But Red forces his gaze back to Patrick. "I think you'll want to see this, kid."
Patrick grits his teeth, ready to brace himself, but he never gets to. Without warning, Yellow upends the contents of his paper cup onto Patrick's head.
Patrick closes his eyes. He can't bring himself to see Pete's reaction. This wasn't how Pete was supposed to find out. Actually, Pete wasn't even supposed to find out in the first place. But it's too late for that now.
The brief pain tells him it's happened. He keeps his eyes shut as he hears Pete scream, "What the _hell_?"
Yellow chuckles directly into Patrick's ear. "Time to turn you over to our friends in the sea, huh? It was fun making a show in front of your friend, though. I'm sure I'll never get tired of remembering that."
Patrick tries again, weakly, to escape, but it's even harder without legs. He can't kick at his captor, and he can't even try to get traction on the wood of the dock.
He's about to resign, to accept his death at the hands of these horrible people, but suddenly there's what sounds like a loud splash and a yell of, " _Get your dirty hands off my Patrick_!"
Patrick is surprised when he falls to the dock, and looks up to see that Joe has somehow gotten up on the dock, and is currently busy fighting Yellow off with the pink coral knife he'd shown Patrick just yesterday.
Patrick looks fearfully to Pete and Red, worrying that Red may have tried something, but it seems his fear is unfounded. Pete has somehow managed to escape and get his hands on Red's knife (presumably Red had been distracted by Joe's sudden arrival), and is currently busy waving it threateningly and saying, "I've never stabbed anyone before, but I won't hesitate!" | 8db644ee362c402bb11c29ddbcdaba0d | ['860e8a5331c946cd8570a59b044b7e86'] | "I don't like being called babe," Patrick answers truthfully, then goes straight back to lying. "You...you always called me honey, or sweetheart, because I like how it sounds like we're an old married couple."
Patrick is making this up off the top of his head, but it seems to do the trick. Joe looks amused, and asks, "Well, _are_ we married?"
Patrick shakes his head. That's an easy answer. "Not yet."
Joe nods. "Do we have kids, or anything?"
Another head shake. At least these are questions that are yes or no, and easy yes or no questions at that.
"How long have we been together?"
This one isn't so simple. Patrick tries his best to give a solid answer on short notice, but it's hard. He settles for, "Uh, we dated on and off for a while, back when we were younger. We've been going steady for two years now."
This sounds realistic enough, and the "dated on and off" bit isn't _totally_ a lie, if occasional bored makeouts count as "dating on and off".
Joe nods to this, so Patrick must be doing a good job of sounding believable. He looks up to Patrick and says bluntly, "They said I can go home tomorrow. Where's home? Do we live together?"
They do not. "Yeah."
Joe nods again. "So I'll go home tomorrow?"
Patrick makes a mental note to wallow in self pity _and_ the consequences of his bad decisions later. For now, he replies shortly, "Yeah."
Joe nods a final time. "I think I'm going to sleep now."
"You do that," Patrick says.
He stays in the room for a good two hours even after Joe nods off, despite the fact that he reminds himself he doesn't need to keep the act up when Joe's not awake to see it.
///
Pete and Andy weren't nearly as taken aback as Patrick thinks they should have been when he'd asked, "Can we discreetly move some of Joe's stuff to my place and make it look like he lives there?"
Patrick also thinks he did a very good job of not murdering Pete on the spot when he'd announced upon walking into Patrick's house, "Fucking hell, Patrick, you're going to need to deep clean this hellhole before it resembles a place Joe would even _consider_ living in."
It turns out three people and extravagant lie fueled determination are the perfect equation for house cleaning, because the place looks respectable - and respectably decorated with a few of Joe's belongings - within a couple hours.
Patrick tours his house after, taking it in. It's much neater, and much more interspersed with Joe's things. A few of Joe's guitars are leaned against the wall near Patrick's own. Some of Joe's clothes have been hastily moved into the closet. Joe's posters and pictures are mingling on the wall with Patrick's. Patrick thinks he needs to thank whatever omnipotent power may exist that he'd still remembered where Joe's spare key was hidden. (Inside the root of the flowers out front - they're fake. It's an eccentric hiding place, but a good one. At least, a good one unless the person trying to break into your house is your close friend you don't remember, desperately trying to prove he's your boyfriend.)
Patrick sits down with Pete and Andy at his dining room table, and asks dead on, "Why are you helping me with this stupid, elaborate scheme?"
"You're an idiot, Patrick," Pete replies, and before Patrick can protest, he continues, "But you're our friend. This is definitely a stupid, elaborate scheme. But you got into it, and you have to let it play out."
Andy simply nods in agreement.
Patrick shakes his head, stunned. "I don't know whether to love or hate you guys."
"Try both," Pete suggests, beaming.
///
Joe spends the car ride "home" staring out the window like a little kid, taking in every little detail, because it's all new to him. He asks "is that our house?" after every other house they pass, and for some reason it never annoys Patrick when he has to constantly say, "No, not that one."
"Is that our house?" Joe asks for what must be the millionth time, and finally, he's right - well, sort of.
"Yeah," Patrick answers, lying through his teeth, "it is."
He leads Joe up to the house, and Joe follows excitedly, looking up at the building in astonishment.
"I love it," he says. "Did we get it together?"
"It was mine first. You moved in with me," Patrick answers, monotone, like he's reading a line off a script. And he kind of is.
He's had plenty of time to invent the details of his and Joe's imaginary relationship, and he hopes he can remember them consistently. He knows with each answer, he digs himself deeper in, but he's already in too deep to stop now. He's sort of trapped.
Once they're inside, Joe demands a full house tour. Patrick takes pride in pointing out the things that are Joe's, demonstrating his seemingly solid evidence of a shared household that never was. Joe eats it up without questioning a single thing - and how would he even know there's something to question?
"We share a bed, right?" he asks at one point, inspecting the bedroom. Patrick only has one, seeing as he lives alone - or at least, he'd supposed to.
"Of course," Patrick answers, before considering that this means he'll have to share a bed with Joe tonight. He finds, surprisingly, that he doesn't really care.
Joe seems tired out after the tour, taking a seat at the table and yawning. Patrick checks the clock. It's only six.
"Man, moderate brain trauma is really draining," Joe comments, leaning his head on his hands and yawning again. "'m tired."
"We can go to bed now, if you want," Patrick suggests automatically, Joe's comfort quickly becoming first priority.
Joe looks up, thankfulness reflected in his eyes. "You'd do that for me?" |
c0c0af85b21d4177ad47bf1472d014b6 | ['8634864eac65403f875ff135dd61d48e'] | > Adrien Agreste! you have a big surprise coming in..... just an reminder, Alexandra is Marinette(I will explain in like chapter 6 why I did it
"Uh… where are we going?" Alexandra asked. The Winx were headed to Red fountain for the grand opening party. They were walking through the forest while Alexandra decided to use her skateboard.
"Before we answer that question. What are you standing on?" Stella asked.
"It's a skateboard Stella." Bloom said.
"A skate what?" The Winx stopped in their tracks.
"This is a skateboard. Its similar to riding roller-skates, or a bike." Alexandra explained.
"What are those?" Tecna asked.
"Its like a car Tecna, four wheels to ride on, except there is no steering wheel or engine, you just use your feet while standing on it." Alexandra said.
"Cars don't have wheels." Musa said. Bloom and Alexandra sighed.
"I forgot. Every vehicle levitates off the ground here." Alexandra said. Bloom laughed.
"You'll get used to it." Bloom said. Alexandra continued to ride her skateboard with the Winx following behind.
When they made it to Red fountain, the looked at it in awe.
"Wow, Red Fountains opening ceremony." Bloom said.
"Even though Red fountain was destroyed, it still looks great." Musa commented.
"I really does. And I thought Paris was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." Alex sighed.
"Professor Avalon, thank you for taking us." Bloom said.
"It was my pleasure. Its an opportunity to meet the teachers of Red fountain. You go ahead." Professor Avalon said.
"You're not coming with us?" Alexandra asked.
"I'm going to meet up with professor Codatorta. Bloom would you do me a favor and watch over everyone got me?" He asked.
"No problem." She said. He went inside and she sighed.
"Is that who I think it is?" Aisha said.
"Yes. It's the witches of cloud tower." Tecna said.
"They're on the guest list." Digit said as she pulled up a hologram. The three witches, one known as Lucy, walked past her ex best-friend Mirta, completely ignoring her as she walked past her. She sighed sadly.
"Whats cloud tower?" Alexandra asked.
"Like Alfea is a school for fairies, Cloud Tower is a school for witches, And Red fountain, is where we are at now, is a school for specialists, or as we like to call them, The boys." Stella said.
The Winx walked into the school, not aware of three witches that are after the codex.
_**$#~~Pawful line break$#~~** _
The Winx were relaxing on a bench. Chatta was currently having a conversation with Flora.
"As I was saying, Stop talking about plants for once, pick a boy there's plenty!" Chatta told a daydreaming Flora.
"Hey look here comes the boys!" Stella said.
"Hello ladies you all look radiant." Sky said as he did a slight bow.
"As always." Stellar said with two fingers up, one eye closed. Tune went up.
"Stella! Prince Sky is trying to be polite. You can at least return the compliment." Tune scolded. Alexandra looked at Tune in awe.
"You remind me so much of someone." She said, acting ignorant. Plagg flew out of Alex's coin purse.
"Are you sure you're not obsessed with that boy? You do see him almost everyday." Plagg huffed. Alexandra spluttered.
"W-What!? that's h-highly absurd! He's like, A brother to me!" She stammered. The Winx looked at Alexandra with confusion and interest.
"So, who are you talking about?" Stella asked with a teasing tone. Alexandra stood up crossing her arms while sticking her nose up in the air, a major blush forming on her cheeks. Plagg cackled.
"Oh, it just her-"
"SHUT UP PLAGG!" Plagg snickered at her.
"Admit it, you like him."
"H-He's my partner!" She argued.
"That doesn't mean anything."
"One last irritating comment for you and no camembert for you!"
"You cant do that! Thar's animal cruelty!"
"Don't test me! Plagg!"
"I want a new charge if you want to keep giving me camembert threats." he said, crossing his arms and flying off somewhere, grumbling, Alexandra chuckled.
"Love you too!" She yelled to Plagg. Everyone laughed.
"Sorry for the delay, I hope you weren't too bored." Sky said.
"Of course not, I was too busy being admired." Stella said.
"Hi Stella." A specialists said.
"Hi." She waved. Brandon raised a brow.
"And that makes 26 specialists." Stella gloated.
"Well I scored 12 witches plus 17 fairies for a grand total of 29. I win sunshine." Brandon gloated. She huffed. Alexandra giggled.
"I don't think we've met before." Sky told Alexandra.
"Oh! I'm Alexandra,but you can call me Alex. I'm from Paris." She said casually. Before anyone asked anything, she said: "It's a city on earth." She said.
"Another fairy from earth?" Timmy said, pushing up his glasses. She simply beamed and nodded at the boys.
"So are we going behind the school to the arena?" Bloom asked.
"Actually, this will be taking place inside." Sky said.
"inside, of course it would be inside." Stella said.
"Whoa Stella! You don't think we won't be going inside without any surprises." Brandon said.
**#$~~Pawful line break#$~~**
When were currently walking towards the inside of the school, Sky took this as a great opportunity to ask Bloom to hang out.
"Say Bloom?"
"Mm?"
"Since we don't have classes tomorrow morning, I was wondering of you would like to go horseback riding?" Sky asked.
"Cool! Sounds like fun!" Bloom confirmed.
"So it's a date-"
"Oh sorry, professor Avalon's class is tomorrow afternoon." Bloom said.
"So, its in the afternoon." Sky said carelessly.
"I wanted to study for his class so I can make a great impression for his class!" She said, jumping a bit.
"Blech! Who studies for a class you haven't been to yet?!" Alexandra exclaimed with a grimace.
"I do." Bloom said, grinning a bit at her grimace.
"You never cease to amaze me Bloom." Alexandra sighed.
"Huh, never knew you liked school so much Bloom." Sky commented. | ef0e33021093493fb2bbdaf4cd14aa5b | ['8634864eac65403f875ff135dd61d48e'] | **Chloe: Ugh! She should have been here by now!**
**Scene: Marinette running to school.**
**Just to be clear, I wanted Marinette to have a more model-ly look(not a word, I know XD) so,she's wearing a cute pale pink dress that ends mid-thigh, and a jean jacket over top. She has black stockings on that ened to her knees with pink flats.**
**Natalie: Marinette please reconsider you know what your father wants.**
**Marinette: But this is what I wana do!**
"Ew, you like school?" Kim asks.
"What's wrong with that?"
"A lot of things Mari, A lot of things." TMG said.
**Marinette looks over to see an elderly man struggle to grab his cane. Marinette ran over to help him up and handed him the cane.**
**FU: Thank you young lady**
**Marinette smiles then turns to an angry Gorrila and Natalie. She sighs.**
**Marinette: I just want to go to school like everyone else. What's so wrong with that? Please don't tell my father about all this. *hangs her head as they enter the car***
"Aww, you poor sunshine child." Nino coos. Marinette punches him playfully.
**Master FU smiles and walks away with his cane in his hand.**
Marinette gawked as the class laughed.
"HA! You've been dooped by and old man!" Alya laughed.
**Scene: Mme. Bustier's Classroom**
**Mme. Bustier: Those of you who have PE, Mr.D' Argencourt is expecting you at the stadium. The rest of you can head over to the library**
**Kim hands Ivan a note.**
**Ivan: KIM! *Goes to punch Kim.***
Everyone winced.
**Mme. Bustier: Ivan, what is going on?**
**Ivan: Its Kim! I'm so gonna-**
**Mme. Bustier: Ivan! Go to the principal's office!**
**Ivan crumples up the note**
_**Scene: HawkMoth's lair** _
**HawkMoth: Negative emotions, this is perfect! It's just what I need! Anger, sadness, burn a hole into his heart my akuma. *transforms akuma***
**HawkMoth: fly away my little akuma, and evilize him!**
_**Scene: Damocles' office** _
**Ivan walks in.**
**Mr. Damocles: Excuse me, young man. Hasn't anyone ever taught you to knock? Go on. Out you go, try it again!**
***akuma flies into the crumpled paper***
**Hawk Moth: Stoneheart, I am Hawk Moth. I give you the power to seek revenge on those who have wronged you.**
**Ivan: Okay, Hawk Moth. *Turns into Stoneheart***
**Mr. Damocles: Well, come on in. *Stoneheart busts down the door***
"Ha! Well at least he came in!" TMG said, causing everyone to laugh.
**_Scene: Library._ **
**_Everyone trembles and falls when rumbling happens._ **
**_Alya: Come on! *Yanks Adrien off the floor and runs over to television, showing surveillance*_ **
**Student: Did you hear that?**
**Stoneheart: KIMMM!**
**Mr. Damocles: Hello? This is the police? Give me the army!**
**Adrien: What's going on? He had Ivan's voice?**
**Alya: It's as if he's been transformed into a real-life supervillain! GPS check. Battery check. I am so outta here!**
**Adrien: Hey! Where are you going!**
**Alya: Where there's a supervillain, there's always a superhero close behind! No way I'm missing this!**
"Alya?" Adrien asks.
"Hm?"
"You're an idiot."
"And you're stuck with her."
Adrien chuckles.
[Ladybug logo]
_**Marinette's Mansion. Master Fu is outside with a little box.** _
**Nathalie: Who was the first president of the 5th French Republic?**
**Marinette: Everyone thinks it was De Gaulle, but it was actually Rene Couti before the first elections.**
**Nathalie: Excellent, Marinette.**
**Tom: Give me a minute, would you, Nathalie?**
**Nathalie: Yes sir.**
**Tom: (To Marinette)You are not going to school. I already told you. *Marinette looks at Natalie, betrayed***
"That was cold." Nino said.
**Marinette: But father!**
**Tom: Everything you need is right here where I can keep an eye on you. I will not head you outside in that dangerous world.**
**Marinette: It's not dangerous, father. I'm always stuck in here by myself. Why can't I go on and make friends just like everybody else?**
**Tom: Because you are not like everyone else! You are my daughter! Continue. *walks off.***
**Nathalie: We can leave it there for today if you have– *Marinette runs away to her room and flops on her bed***
Adrien frowns at Marinette. Her father was really hard on her.
**Scene: Marinette's room. Marinette hears some thumping.**
**Agent Roger: Ready? Fire! *police fires at StoneHeart, but he gets bigger.***
**Mayor Bourgeois: I'm asking all permissions to stay home until all the situation is under control.**
**Nadja: As incredible as it seems, it's been confirmed that Paris is indeed being attacked by a supervillain. The police have been struggling to keep the situation under control**
**Roger: Be confident, the strong arm of the law will come crashing down on the... I mean, the other arm.**
The class snorts. Excluding Chloe and Sabrina.
**The scene goes to Adrien's room.**
**Adrien: I hate first days back at school... *sees a box* Huh?**
Adrien and Marinette inwardly gasped. _oh no..._
_**split screen** _
**Adrien and Marinette: What's this doing here? *they open the little boxes and they glow***
"I ship it!"
"NINO!" Marinette squeaks
***Sees Tikki appear***
"Adrien, what was that?!" Alix shouts. Adrien pulls his collar and laughs nervously.
**Adrien: Ahhh! ayuda! It's a giant bug! A mouse! A... a bug-mouse!**
"A bug mouse? Really?" Alya said. "Whatever it is, it's cute!"
"Agreed!" Rose says.
**Tikki: Everything's okay! Don't be scared!**
**Adrien: Ahh! The bug mouse talks! *throws things at Tikki* Vaya usted ... ¡Cosa extraña del insecto!**
"Sheesh Adrien! It's just a little cute bug." Ivan said.
"That's why she was terrifying." He replied.
"How do you know it was a she?"
"Lucky guess?"
**Scene: Marinette's room.**
* * *
**Marinette: *Sees Plagg appear. Plagg yawns*** **No way... Like the genie in the lamp!**
"Wow..." Kim says while clapping slowly.
**Plagg: I've met him before. Big deal! I'm way more personable! Plagg. Nice to meet you. Ooh, swinky... *bites foosball figure***
**Marinette: No! Don't touch that! Come back here! *attempts to grab him***
**Plagg: Ohh! So shiny! Can you eat this? *bites arcade game* No, you can't. Ooh, what about this?** |
f80184971a1c4d97a22fbaa8b5ce40bb | ['8637c4af0da44d19b259ea2ab889cff2'] | Not the best place to be on a rainy Monday afternoon or… anywhere with an emotionally unstable teen, as Detective Noir as that may sound, but I had no other choice and the scarred look on Yurio’s face made it worth it. Little shit had it coming. He’s 16, I think its time he became a man, or that’s what my Father said when he found out I was gay and locked me in a room with some girl I barely knew. She was quite nice actually, she went by Rachel if I remember correctly. I believe her number is somewhere in my phone.
Well…. I mean I could turn this into a fun experience and narrate my way through my investigation and pop my pistol up on the bar counter smoking cigars, (I know, I’m a horrible role model) waiting for the right person to clue me in on their presence if I really wanted to, but making fun out of the death of an entire spy agency, that agency being the most well respected and classified agency known to nobody, but the workers there, isn't exactly the most respectable decision. Even if it may be the only thing keeping me sane around this overly reactive 16 year old at this point.
I had told Yuri to wait in the car, but the rebel inside him wouldn't die even in the type of crisis we we’re in now, which admittedly was pretty amazing and I always congratulate rookies who have the ability to deal with grief like dust on their suit jackets. It’s only the most important part of being a spy, wildling away all your distracting emotions to get the job done, but at the same time he seemed a little more closed off than usual. Maybe it’s just my imagination.
“Yuri, why didn't you wait in the car?”
“Its just a stupid strip club, its not like I haven't watched porn before, genius.” He had rolled his eyes again, but I didn't expect anything less.
“I'll take that as the closest thing you'll ever get to complimenting me.”
He hadn't responded after that. His glare was centered on the tiled floor of the waiting area, he hadn't even made an attempt to hide the grief stricken scowl on his forehead.
No, he normally kicks me when I even try to start a conversation with him. I make it a point to talk to him about it later. For now, all I can do is shoo him off before he can even lay his sights on the first pole by basically handcuffing him to the lounge bench. Okay, not basically, literally.
“Fine! Whatever! Leave me here! If some pedo tries to touch me Im telling the police it was you!”
And before you tell me it’s unessasarilly cruel, I do this to him all the time, so it’s fine! I have a remote in my pocket that can unhinge them at any time so, he’s completely fine and relatively safe. They have a built in electric shield to prevent anyone from touching him.
Unless he breaks it again.
Or finds a way out, to which really wouldn’t surprise me, but does anyways.
The place seems decently deserted as of tonight, to my luck, because I don’t feel like bumping bodies with too many of those types in this godforsaken sweatshop of hormones. Half of em’ are probably either soaked in sweat or….other indecent fluids I’d rather not imagine….maybe even both, ok yeah I'm going to stop myself there. I make my way to the only other dancer working tonight, a familiar feeling of ache filling my heart as I step closer.
“Ah, Eros! How nice it is to see you again!” The meeting is anything, but when I get the slightest hint of amber in my peripherals sliding delicately down a long silver pole I’m seated by, a few benjamins under my fingertips at the round top and theres a part of me that slightly regrets coming here first. I should have just gone home where I could have left the brat to my siblings and not have to do….this. I pray this goes over quickly. “I've a favour to ask you if you're willing!”
“Ah, Victor Nikiforov.” There's a playful lilt to pursed red lips that sear the skin at my neck as they descend from the ceiling. A tongue snakes around his lips, gives me a false sense of lustrous calm. I take no comfort in it. (Ok maybe I do feel like going full noire, don't judge me! I'm currently grieving, goddammit!) “What brings a world renowned dickhead such as yourself back here? Don't you know we don't serve backstabbers here.”
Oof and he's got me with that knife in my chest, mercilessly twisting it to shred my insides to mere mush. I grimace, but otherwise my natural flirty and upbeat glamour stands to attention.
“Wow, hospitality is clearly your forte here.” I roll my eyes and just barely notice him doing the same, mock smiles turning into disgusted gags as we both notice it. I forget how in sync we used to be and the display of affection has something uneasy resonating in my stomach. Butterflies? Ugh, I hope not. I'm not doing that shit all over again, no matter how beautiful -I mean absolutely revolting- this wannabe stripper is. Ok, maybe he's really the best one out of everyone here, but he still sucks.
“I try my best, Nikiforov.” I notice a few faces turn, shock apparent as he's raised his voice at my name and I shoot him the least obvious pointed look I remember how to do, to which he shrugs and tags another coworker in, her black lingerie-esk booty shorts making every guy around her instantly mesmerized as she takes the pole, but their eyes speak reluctance to let the latter leave just yet. | 844513b3fe4749be83505feab5a4d4ea | ['8637c4af0da44d19b259ea2ab889cff2'] | He was looking for candidates to take over for Yurio when he had to go back out for the competitive seasons. It was especially hectic without him and Victor didn’t want to get his mind spinning just thinking about last seasons catastrophes. The Novices were flailing into spread eagles when they couldn't even tie their own skates and Juniors quadruple lutzes when they could barely do lutzes in the first place. Yeah….. it had been a mess and Yurio hadn't been at all too happy about it, but its not like Yuuko could help either, already doing her job which was maintaining the rink and being a good Mother. (It’d be just horrible pinning anymore responsibility onto her) In all honestly it was just a disaster. It had been ok in the start with the tiny class comprised of 3 Novices and 4 Juniors, but now? Yeah, he desperately needed the assistance. (Or he should of thought his business strategy through more and hired extra help the minute more parents said they were going to sign their kids up since he was going to be teaching them, but at least he’s learning now, isn’t he?)
He immediately fixed up a small add on his website hoping someone would take notice to his plea and today his prayers had been answered. Even more so than he had ever hoped with the new potential teacher’s assistant being a literal angel sent to Earth from heaven.
God was definitely on his side today. Hallelujah.
“Oh yes, yes, thank you so much! Just have a seat by the benches and we can start the interview immediately!” Yuuri beamed and his adorable factor went up by 300 percent. (He definitely did not include adorableness into interview points until now. Adding charm to the work experience was an absolute ‘yes’ for Victor from the start and he swears it wasn’t added just to increase Yuuri’s eligibility.)
He grabbed the clipboard from behind the skate rental counter and quickly stole a pen from the pen cup Yuuko left on the desk. All the questions he wanted to ask were readily printed in blue and held every little thing he could desire asking, besides the one question he absolutely had to ask or he’d never let himself live it down, like where he could get a hold of this boy's phone number and if he could get him on a quick date, but he'd reserve the flirting for later. Ok, he’ll _ try _ to reserve it for later, key word is try .
Not thinking about his underlying motives, Victor would surely only base this interview on Yuuri’s skills and not his looks.
Definitely.
He takes a bench that's a ways away from everybody so they have a bit of privacy and pats the wood for Yuuri to sit with him. He readies his clipboard and clicks the pen open.
“So, Yuuri, I’d like to start with formalities.” He holds the tip near the name line waiting for Yuuri to address his full name, but looks up confused when he hears silence. “As in names?”
“O-oh, right!” He apologizes before neatly folding his hands in his lap his thumbs playing war with one another. “I’m Yuuri Katsuki.”
“Yuuri Katsuki.” He repeats jotting it down under **Applicant** and checking off a box that Yuuri can barely see past the metal clasp under **Special Facts** . He audibly gulps at the implication before he's asked another question. “Anything specific you’d like to be called like, Mr. K, or just Yuuri, Mr. Katsuki, Sensei?”
“Just Yuuri is fine, thank you. Sensei is alright, too.”
“And your age? I'd also like to know if you have ever coached any students previously.” He taps the pen on his lips eyeing the way Yuuri fiddles with the hems of his shirt. _ Anxious indeed _ , he internalizes.
“I’m 24 and no, not really. I've only ever been coached or helped out a few times.”
“That's alright, you'll learn as you go. These kids are pretty easy to teach and surprisingly eager to learn so you'll have no problem fitting in here.” He flashes him a smile in hopes it will calm down his ever growing and obvious to anyone with eyes, anxiety, but it only makes Yuuri's face redden even more and he's concerned the boy might need a doctor because he is starting to look a little sickly.
“Alright, so, why do you want this job, Yuuri?” And he visibly tenses. “What made you want to try coaching figure skating classes?”
“Um, really I just need the money, ya see I just moved in and I'm new here so I needed the job, but-” Upon looking up at Victor's face Yuuri just wants to burst into a sad lump of tears at his way too serious expression and he fears he gave him the wrong impression, immediately going into overdrive to explain with true sincerity that he didn't just care about his paycheck. “I swear I also care about the kids too and I’m not money hungry! Im sure they are all so delightful and full of spirit and I’ll do my absolute best to encourage them and teach them properly to their fullest potential!”
“Yuuri.”
“I will never push their safety aside for anything and absolutely will do everything in my power to be the best coach I can be and-” |
d2ae5f6259da44a2b13de51d348ae015 | ['86674689172e4c6f9d6680e2fa882dc5'] |
1. Chapter 1
'Why on earth do I need to be undercover as your lover? I won't be taken seriously if they think I´m your little plaything.' Liz was very proud at how professional her voice sounded after Red had dropped that bomb on her.
'I know it's cliché, but it's necessary, believe me. They know me there, they know I don't have playthings.' His mouth twisted in amusement at the last word as he grasped Liz's hand in his. 'We will find a fitting alias for you, Liz, don't worry. This will go much smoother this way then if I went there alone.'
She didn't know when this attraction to Raymond Reddington started, exactly.
A dangerous criminal, a man who would do anything to keep her safe, for a short while maybe her father, yes. A man who she wanted to pull her hair as he whispered all the things he wanted to do to her in the ear with that impossibly sexy voice, now that was new.
Now she realized the relief she felt when he confirmed he was not her father for what it was. She must have subconsciously felt this pull towards him then, but being married and then the fallout with Tom had served as a wonderful diversion to her increasingly inappropriate thoughts.
Now sitting on a couch in his newest safehouse that was almost a mansion, only inches apart, she couldn't deny this any longer. Red had her hand in his slowly stroking the back of her hand with his thumb as he had done a few times before, trying to be comforting, or maybe persuasive, who knew. Sitting only inches away with a glass of scotch in his other hand, comfortable and completely oblivious to the way his small touch and the timbre of his voice was starting to do things to Liz.
This was very, very bad timing. If this insane mission was approved she could not be having these kinds on thoughts.
'Cooper is never going to approve this, you know.'
'He will. Laurence Andrews is using his foundation as a cover for his human trafficking business and is looking to branch out. It's genius, really if you can admire that sort of thing. I´ll tell him I want in on it and we get proof so we can take him down.'
Reddington filled up Liz's glass and turned to her, an earnest expression on his face. 'We will need to portray a couple convincingly, sleep in the same room, will you be ok with that?'
'I know what undercover means, Red.'
'Excellent! Now, let's toast. Tomorrow is soon enough to set the wheels in motion'
As Liz lifted her glass to Red's she saw no hint of what he was thinking or feeling, other then his general cheerfulness. Could it be that he was looking forward to this or was she just projecting?
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thank you so much to all of you for the kudos and comments! They really help me push through the fear of writing in a new fandom. :)
Liz sat across from Red in his private jet trying unsuccessfully to listen to his conversation with Dembe with no luck.
The mission has been approved and only took five days to set up, Cooper was eager to catch 'The Auctioneer' as they were now calling him. Aram had created detailed fake identities for Liz, himself and Ressler who would be flying in to the island tomorrow as harmless tourists.
Elizabeth Moore as her new drivers license now said was well educated and independently wealthy from her involvement in running specialized brothels.
Dembe stood up and headed up to the cockpit, leaving them alone for the first time since the night Reddington had first mentioned Laurence Andrews.
You never answered my question, Red.'
'Which one would that be?'
'Why we need to be ...together for this. If he looks into my background he'll see I´ve owned three different bordello's for almost ten years. Isn't that enough of an in with him?'
'It is.' Reddington put his glass down and looked her in the eyes for the first time since they got on the plane. 'There is a reason why Laurence Andrews is in the human trafficking business. He is a sexual sadist who is outcast in the S&M community. His search for new partners who do not know the depth of his depravity alerted him to the fact that he can make a hefty profit in this line of work. That's how he started with his auctions.'
His lip curled slightly with his last words. 'It's very important that you listen to me, Lizzie. He will try to seduce you. You have to reject his advances without injuring his precious ego, if you are my lover then I can protect you without arousing suspicion.'
'I´m sorry, I thought we were traveling to a private island in the Caribbean, not the 1960's! I´m a federal agent.' Liz stopped herself from raising her voice, but barely.
'I´m sorry but this is non-negotiable, Lizzie. This is a sexual predator, not some halfwit thug. This is our best chance at you seeming off limits to him.' Red leaned closer to her, his voice firm as if he could make her listen to him by his presence alone.
'Fine. How do you know him, anyway? He doesn't seem like the sort you usually do business with.'
'He's not. I knew this marvelous girl once, she was a professional submissive. I met an associate of mine in a club sometimes that had a members only cellar and she worked there. After a few times his name came up and I´ve been aware of his proclivities since.'
'Why take him down now, all of a sudden?' | 7010aa16954540b886ca89bcf536224b | ['86674689172e4c6f9d6680e2fa882dc5'] | 'He is no longer content to merely procure people who are forced to work in these establishments, now he is hosting his own auctions. This is the first I´ve been invited to, so this is a good time to take him out.'
'Why do I feel like this is personal to you?'
'It's not, I simply abhor this sort of thing. Have you finished your reading on the S&M lifestyle? You need to be an expert and able to make recommendations to him, you know.' Red laid his hand on her knee for a long moment before sitting back in his seat and reaching for his forgotten glass of wine.
'How is this my life?'
3. Chapter 3
Stepping into the Caribbean sunshine felt wonderful after the long New York winter. Liz adjusted her sunglasses as she stepped off the ramp, Red coming up behind her and putting his hand around her waist, hand possessively curling around her hip.
'Oh and one other thing, Lizzie,' he said close to her ear his voice so completely cheerful she immediately knew she would not like what he was about to say. 'Our room in the villa will be bugged. So I´m think long walks on the beach, sweet nothings whispered in my ear, that sort of thing, understand? Wonderful!'
Fixing an adoring smile on her face in case they were already under surveillance Liz tilted her head up to Red and whispered 'this is not funny. Just because I´m not armed, doesn't mean I´m not dangerous.'
'How kind of you to try and keep things interesting, my dear, but wholly unnecessary I assure you.'
Red kept her close to his side as they walked the short distance to the car that had been sent for them so that they looked like a smitten couple, not so subtly reminding her that it was showtime.
***
The villa looked like something out of a tourist brochure except for the over sized security gate completely surrounding the property and four men with machine guns patrolling the perimeter.
When they finally reached the end of the long driveway there were people milling about but a man and woman were standing on the veranda, clearly waiting for them.
'Hello and welcome!' The woman greeted them warmly and kissed their cheeks with a flourish. 'My name is Melanie, Laurence is at a meeting so I wanted to see to it personally that you get settled and everything is to your satisfaction.' Her melodic french accent and elegant appearance was designed to seem nonthreatening but Laurence Andrew's mistress and business partner could not be as innocent as she looked.
The man who was waiting with her briefly introduced himself as Micheal but the way he hung back, half his attention on the area around them screamed 'security/thug for hire' as loudly as if he carried his pistol on his hip and not concealed on his person as he most certainly did.
Melanie took them on a brief tour of the ground floor, making small talk about life on the island and how lovely dinner would be. Red kept most of the conversation going, charming her effortlessly while Liz tried to make notes of the exits and general floor plan.
Finally Melanie showed them to their room on the second floor. 'I'll let you freshen up, dinner is at 7. I know how much Laurence is looking forward to meeting you both!'
She closed the door behind her and Liz looked around the room that she would be sharing with Red for the next few days. There was a small tv nook, a desk with space for a laptop, a small balcony with open french doors letting in a breeze and a queen size bed that was turned down invitingly and their luggage at the foot of the bed.
'I´m going to take a nap, care to join me Lizzie?' While his tone seemed casual, Red cocked his head and looked at her almost as if he was waiting for something.
Realizing that since their room was bugged she couldn't ask any of the million questions she had for him, all she could do was keep in character. 'No, I think I´m going to read for a while.'
Removing her jacket, Lizzie went out to the balcony and sat in one of the two chairs with her notebook. Instead of reading her eyes followed Red as he toed off his shoes, hung up his jacket and vest and lay down on the bed, seemingly settling down for a nap without a care in the world.
The room being bugged was not something she had considered. Not being able to talk freely here was going to be challenging.
Instead of lingering on how small the bed they would be sharing later that night seemed with him in it, she dragged her eyes back to her notes. One problem at a time. |
8b89d70b46724570bbca4d48baa76f25 | ['866b48b7e68b4c90a4f4f5f399ae82de'] |
**Author's Note:**
> I enjoy April fools day to some degree, so I decided to celebrate in my own way by writing this fic
>
> Quick note:
>
> Yuuri = Japanese/Yuuri K.
>
> Yuri = Russian/Yuri P. (Though I do call him Yurio as well)
It was another frigid early spring day in St. Petersburg and Victor and Yuuri were on their way to the rink for their morning practice. The two laughed and talked the whole walk there, the comfort they felt in their banter keeping them warm against the flurry of snow. When they arrived, Victor chivalrously held the door open for Yuuri who walked in and sighed in relief as he felt the blessing of electrical heating wash over him.
"Wow, I can't believe how cold it is outside! And it's almost April too!" Yuuri commented as he rubbed his hands together to restore heat to them. Well, the one that Victor hadn't been holding, anyway.
"Oh yeah, now that you mention it, it _is_ almost April," Victor noted, his tone holding hidden mischief. He hummed a chuckle and put a finger on his chin, cheerfully lost in thought as he continued walking on ahead of Yuuri.
"Oh, God. You're right," came the Russian Yuri's voice. He was standing by the water fountain filling up his water bottle. His voice held a deep dread and exasperation which was not unusual for the teen so Yuuri paid it no mind. That is until he directed his next words towards him. "You better watch your back, Katsudon."
"What do you mean?" Yuuri asked as he stopped walking.
"April fools day is coming up, and Victor _loves_ to pull pranks." He shot a rather dark glare towards the change room doors Victor had disappeared into, either not noticing or not caring that his fiance was not currently with him. Yuuri followed the gaze, quite surprised at the statement. Victor had never pulled any sort of pranks when they lived together, and he told Yuri as such.
"He must save it all for the first. Take my word for it, and _don't_ let your guard down." he advised with a stern point of his finger and eyes that held a past horror. With that, he turned and headed to the ice. The warning was a bit foreboding, but Yuuri brushed it off and quickly followed after Victor to the changeroom.
* * *
It was the morning of the First and Victor had spent the better part of it trying to prank his fiance but nothing was working. Yuuri was too damn observant for his own good and it was throwing a major wrench into Victor's plans. From the plastic wrap in the doorway he ducked underneath to the one he peeled off of the toilet seat, nothing seemed to phase Yuuri. He defused both the airhorn doorstopper and the one underneath his computer chair, as well as the rubber band wrapped around the hose when Victor had casually asked Yuuri to get him a glass of water from the kitchen sink.
Victor flopped onto the couch with a defeated sigh. Why weren't any of his pranks working? To make matters worse, Yuuri didn't even say anything to him regarding the unsuccessful attempts. He just wore a knowing smile and eyes that glinted with challenging mischief as if saying, "You'll have to try harder than that." Well, try he would.
He would not let Yuuri win this.
Yuuri joined his fiance on the couch and gave him a peck on the cheek, noticing his exhausted expression.
"Something wrong?" Yuuri asked sweetly. (Too sweetly for Victor's liking.)
"Didn't sleep too well last night," he responded quickly.
"Whatever you say," Yuuri shrugged at the obvious lie. He reached for the remote and Victor felt the beginnings of a smile as he tried to start their morning news program. Unbeknownst to Yuuri, a piece of tape was stuck over the sensor bar on the remote so the signal wouldn't reach. As per plan, Yuuri pressed the power button a number of times without result before staring at the object in his hand in puzzlement. Victor was about to declare his prank a successーfinally!ーand jump up and scream "April Fools!" when Yuuri wordlessly flipped the remote, used a nail to pick at the tape on the tip of it and peeled it off before successfully powering on the tv.
"Ah, there we go. Wonder how that got there," Yuuri mused coyly. With that same glint from before in his eyes, he reached over to the coffee table and grabbed a single m&m from the bowl of mixed chocolate, Skittles and Reese's pieces Victor had deviously placed there and popped it in his mouth.
Victor silently fumed at the two additional failed attempts but said nothing. He still had a number of tricks up his sleeve. One of them would _have_ to work.
* * *
Victor headed to the rink ahead of Yuuri to set up his next plot under the lie that he needed extra practice so he could win his next competition and not lose to Yuuri. The lie wasn't totally untrue: he would _not_ lose to Yuuri, and by that he meant he _would_ prank him today, one way or another. Nobody else was at the rink yet and he got to work blowing up the packs of balloons he brought with him. Once finished laying his trap, he quickly ran outside and found a hiding spot where he could gauge Yuuri's reaction without being seen when he arrived. | 457f0e0f071a412c976d4e503b4e8cb6 | ['866b48b7e68b4c90a4f4f5f399ae82de'] | "No complaining. Now eat your supper," Yuuri said as he sat back down and took a bite of his own. "And drink your juice." He eyed Victor and smirked at his misery as he warily picked up the cup and took a small sip before putting it down with a face mirroring the one Yurio had worn.
* * *
After dinner found Yurio doing his own thing in their apartmentーprobably messaging that boy from Kazakhstan, Victor suggested teasinglyーas he and Yuuri stood side by side in front of the twin sinks per the younger of the two's earlier demand. Yuuri continued to watch Victor and the silver-haired man felt self-conscious under his critical gaze.
"Stop critiquing me on my technique. For the last time, I _know_ how to do the dishes," he grumbled.
"I'm not critiquing your technique. You can wash them however you like, I just want them done properly," Yuuri replied. "You can even play with the bubbles for all I care."
"What bubbles?" Victor gestured at what little Yuuri had allowed in the sink. He scooped some up and blew them in his direction where they landed on his glasses causing the young skater to scowl. "You're no fun," Victor muttered as he crossed his arms. He unfolded them quickly with a yelp a moment later as he felt the water from his rubber gloves soak into the fabric of his shirt leaving a darkened spot that clung to his skin.
"Ha! That's what you get. Now do your chores. You got a long way to go," Yuuri said.
With a disappointed sigh, Victor dunked his hands back into the water and scrubbed at a plate before handing it to Yuuri. The ravenette took it and turned it over, inspecting it with utmost scrutiny, and when he was satisfied it was properly washed, he moved it under the tap to be rinsed. Victor submerged his hands in the water again as Yuuri turned away towards the drying rack. Observing his back to him, Victor gave a devious smirk and quickly withdrew his wet hands and wrapped them around Yuuri's middle in a surprise hug from behind. At the unexpected contact, the man jumped and nearly dropped the dish he was holding but miraculously managed not to as he felt the liquid absorb into his shirt. He placed the dish down before turning to face Victor accusingly when his vision was suddenly obscured by more bubbles. Yuuri's earlier scowl returned with a vengeance and Victor giggled.
"Look, now we're even!" Victor chirped happily, pulling at his also wet shirt in demonstration, making it even _more_ wet.
"Oh, I'll show you even," Yuuri said before splashing Victor with water from the sink. The older man jumped back with a gasp, though not before being hit by the wave. He was quick to douse Yuuri with a wave of his own in retaliation.
"Really?" Yuuri gasped with a laugh as he looked down at his wet clothes.
"Well, you started it!"
"No, _you_ started it when you grabbed me!"
"I guess we'll have to settle this another way." Victor suggested.
"What-" Yuuri started to question but was cut off as he was covered with water again.
All Yuuri wanted was for his fiance to do the dishes. But no. He couldn't have that, could he? He was stuck with a dork who thought it was absolutely hilarious to have a war with water instead of being a decent house spouse. Well, if it was a war he wanted, it was a war he would get. Yuuri pushed his now-soaked hair out of his eyes and sent a mischievous grin at Victor, accepting the challenge.
"Oh, it is _on!_ "
* * *
Needless to say, the dishes did not get done, and when Yurio walked in 20 minutes later in search of a snack, the kitchen was an absolute disaster. There was a grand total of 6 items on the rack with a larger stack of pots and pans still to be washed. A sponge and a pair of rubber gloves were tossed on the floor, and with the amount of water everywhere and how soaked the two men were, one would think a hurricane had passed through the apartment.
"What the hell happened in here?" Yurio demanded, though something in the back of his mind screamed that he didn't want to know. The two adults stopped in their game to regard him, then the mess, then each other and they broke out into a fit of laughter.
"We're cleaning," Yuuri answered once he managed to compose himself.
"Well you're doing a shit job," the blond rebuked.
Yuuri rubbed a hand behind his head. "We got a bit distracted."
"Yeah, I'd say so."
"Oh! Yuuri, you got a bit of bubbles on your nose. Here, let me," Victor said as he leaned in to kiss the tip where the white fluff had stuck. He was rewarded with a light blush and a smile from his fiance, and a sound of disgust from Yuri.
"Ew, gross you two! Wait until I'm gone to do that kind of stuff," he scoffed as he made for the door, letting it swing shut with a slam as he left.
They watched him leave, Yuuri's eyes then drifting to the table where he noted Yurio had for once left his dirty dish. He walked over, picked it up and placed it on the counter with the rest, of which there was a lot. He turned on the tap again to refill the sink which had been made empty by their shenanigans when an upside down bottle of soap was suddenly held in front of him by Victor who hummed happily as he watched the bubbles form.
"Victor, not too much," Yuuri chastised him. He grabbed his hand and flipped the bottle so it was right side up. "We've made enough of a mess already."
"You're no fun, Yuuri," Victor pouted. |
a9126624656f4660bd79dd51cf6e07fa | ['868bb7e858a94e08ba47e69143941229'] | Balthier quirked an eyebrow. “You drunk?”
“You drunk?” He mocked the brunette. “You come up with fresh comments all of a sudden. You think you’re equal to me already?”
“I’m going home,” Balthier sighed as he put one hand on his own forehead. “I don’t have time to take care of a drunk.” He headed to the door but was suddenly stopped by a hand on his shoulder.
“Wait a sec!” Grey huffed.
Balthier casually turned around to look him in the eye with slight interest.
“Let’s put the lead role on the line and have a match…” Grey let out a small whimper as he tried to force more words past his lips. “We’ll do the same thing as the audition. If I win, I’m taking the lead role!”
The brunette narrowed his eyes at the other. “You are saying that for real?”
Grey swallowed hard. “Something is wrong… you lost at the audition, but why did you get the lead role?” His voice rose slowly, gradually. He put one hand on his chest. “You just go along with what the people say, so you can get up there.” He looked away from the other. “I can’t stand to have sex with someone like you in public!”
“You… still call yourself a pro?” Balthier smirked slightly but it was soon replaced by a sharp scowl. “I thought you had more pride in your roles.”
“Pride? How the hell am I supposed to have pride?!” Grey all but yelled, causing Balthier’s gaze to narrow down on him. “Even if I try really hard, they still say I was originally an adult film star! They use that as material to laugh at me and judge me! How the hell am I supposed to have pride—“
Grey couldn’t even finish his sentence before Balthier raised his hand and slapped the other abruptly. He kind of froze a little and looked at the brunette as the other lowered his hand.
“Calm down,” Balthier looked at him as if he didn’t just hit him, his voice calm and steady. “What’s so bad about starting out as a porn star? Why can’t you be bold enough to use that as your weapon?”
Grey slumped back down on the couch, looking down at his feet. “You wouldn’t understand… The youthfulness and gorgeousness you have…” He out his hands together, thinking pretty low of himself as usual (even if it wasn’t true). “I don’t have either one of them. You wouldn’t be able to understand my anxiety.”
Being the self-absorbed man he was, Balthier wasn’t going to argue with him. “How did you stay in this business without losing your modesty?”
“Don’t make fun of me!” He glared up at the brunette.
“I’m not making fun of you. You’re just nervous before a big job.”
Grey threw his head on the back of the couch. “Shut up. I don’t want sympathy from you!”
A sigh came from Balthier as he sat next to him, one arm behind the other on the back of the couch. “Mr. Anderton, why don’t we have a rehearsal?”
Grey gave him this look as if the brunette were crazy. “What…?” was all he could ask as the other got unnervingly close.
Balthier’s arm slinked around the other and pulled him closer. “A private rehearsal with just the two of us,” he whispered and looked the other right in the eyes, their faces only inches away.
“You’ve got to be kidding—”
His sentence was cut short when the other pulled him into his lap, his arms around his torso, causing one of Grey’s hands to be trapped and unusable. When he noticed Balthier was about to kiss him he swatted at his face and moved his own away as far as possible, but it was useless. Balthier had grabbed his hand and pulled it away and snatched his lips under his own anyway. For a long moment Grey had squirmed under the other, not being able to make himself comfortable in the other’s grip. He relaxed a bit and when the other let him go he fell back to lie on the couch. Balthier had pushed him down lengthwise on the couch and got overtop of him, their faces still relatively close, and his hand unconsciously reached down to the other’s pants.
“Being turned on with just a kiss… it’s not like you.” He smirked as Grey’s face turned bright red. “You’re so clumsy… or rather you’re such a coward.” He leaned down to the other’s neck, provoking another dark blush across the other’s face, and whispered, “But I like those parts of you.” He proceeded to kiss his neck gently.
“Balthier…” He closed his eyes and turned his head away.
“Do you remember,” Balthier undid the buttons on the other’s shirt and pulled it down his shoulders, “the audition for the lead role for the movie?” His lips brushed the other’s cheek gently. “Grey, you completely looked through me. My thoughts of wishing to become a better person than I was then…” He sat up a bit, moving Grey’s legs apart slightly to undo his belt and the zipper to his pants. Once removed, he slid his hand down his boxers. “It made me think, “I expected that from you”.” He took the waistband of the other’s boxers and slid them down, soon tracing patterns along the other with his tongue.
That’s true… Grey thought. That time…
“This is why I hate oldies! What’s the meaning of your long and pointless career? I never liked your seemingly fake job from before!”
That’s when Grey had first noticed his seriousness.
His eyes widened slightly from the other’s touch as Balthier’s hand stumbled up his chest. I though this droopy-eyed guy that pissed me off seemed cute to me. The things from that time are not fake… He thought as Balthier’s face came back in contact with his own. He hadn’t even noticed that now the both of them were naked and skin-to-skin. | e05a82ad75bd437a865443b0445ff956 | ['868bb7e858a94e08ba47e69143941229'] | Prince and the Khansama
It was late inside the Phantomhive Manor. Soma couldn't sleep; He wasn't the least bit used to the place. All he could do was lie awake in bed, in very deep thought. Thinking about the other day, when Agni had addressed him… he sounded ill. Like he'd been trying to hide a sickness he had.
Soma didn't like it when Agni kept things of great importance from him.
The curry contest… Agni didn't tell Soma what he'd been up to, even though he knew he'd been disappearing every night and Soma knew something was off… He would've preferred Agni just tell him that he'd been trying to get Mina back for him. It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for him. It was then that the odd tingly feeling curled in his stomach and his heart thumped so loudly he could've sworn everyone else could hear it…
He turned onto his side and stared at the door, long and hard, hoping that his longing would magically bring Agni to his room. Unfortunately, even though Agni had a magnificent right hand, he did not have the ability to read Soma's mind, and appear whenever the young prince so wished. He sighed and threw the covers over the edge of the bed, tossing his bare feet over the side and onto the soft carpeted floor.
Agni wouldn't mind if he dropped in for a minute or two, right?
Right?
He stood up and grabbed one of the blankets to wrap around himself, even though the manor was hotter than India on a summer's day. He slowly peered out the door, only to see an empty hallway. Agni's room had only been down the hall, but, in the dark, it seemed further away than what it would have been normally. He closed the door so quietly that he wasn't even sure when he'd closed it, and started taking small steps through the hall. A few small windows lined up let in a few rays of white moonlight, helping guide his path if only a little bit.
He made it to the door after what seemed like an hour of walking, and another twenty minutes debating as to whether he should knock or just enter. I might wake up others if I knock, he thought, Agni will understand.
He pushed the door open silently and saw the sleeping figure he'd went there to see. He smiled halfheartedly at himself, knowing that no one else would see it, and closed the door behind him. It made a small 'click', and when it did, Agni flinched from 'asleep' to 'half-conscious'.
"Agni?" Soma's voice sounded so small and delicate when heard. Agni made a slight protesting noise as he rolled over from on his stomach to his back and sat up, rubbing on eye lazily.
"S-Soma Sama?" Agni leaned forward a little as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The dark seemed a lot less scary now that Agni was up; even the moonlight had a friendly glow.
"C-Can I stay here, and… sleep with you?" Soma thought he sounded so childish when he asked Agni that. "I-I can't sleep."
Agni offered a small smile and patted the area next to him. "Come here."
Soma did as Agni had said and sat down next to him, pulling the blanket he brought with him over the two of them. He wrapped an arm around Soma and looked at him, real serious-like. "Are you alright, my prince?"
Soma fumbled his thumbs a little under the covers. "Actually, I came to ask you that. You seemed… sick the other day." Soma looked back into Agni's eyes. "I wanted to know if you're okay."
Agni looked down for a minute, considering what Soma had said. "I… I guess I am a little sick. Homesick… Lovesick…" He mumbled the last word so low that Soma could just barely hear it.
"Hmm?" Soma knew Agni didn't want him to hear the last word.
"L-Lovesick." He repeated the word louder, yet shyer.
Soma fell back against the bed and started to feel worried, not to mention the tingly, fuzzy feeling in his gut started to bug him once again. "For who?"
"Y-You."
Soma sat back up slowly when he heard that word. Agni really… felt that way about him? It was almost unbelievable.
"Would you believe me… when I tell you…" Soma paused a minute before continuing. "I love you?"
Agni looked back at Soma, a new light flickering in his eyes. That's when Soma leaned forward and placed a small, chaste kiss to Agni's lips. Agni smiled in the kiss, placing his right hand to the back of Soma's head, weaving his fingers through his violet hair, and wrapped his other arm around his waist.
"Soma…" Agni whispered against Soma's lips. "I'll love you forever."
It was only the first of many passionate kisses. Neither of the two really knew where they belonged until that night. And all it took was a confession, a promise, and a kiss. |
6518231882794f33a31e3979c72b88c0 | ['86a7872df76e4631a8a3a58740edc38c'] | Sentences
**Author's Note:**
> I was inspired by Lyssala's work.
>
> This is also posted on my tumblr, wait-still-rendering, and my ffnet account, musicbox's will.
1\. She is five and he is seven when they meet.
2\. The first thing he notices is that her hair is blue of all colors.
3\. The first thing she notices is that he is tall - too tall for a seven year old.
4\. She tells him her name is Aqua and he tells her his name is Terra.
5\. From then on it's always Aqua and Terra or Terra and Aqua; whichever you prefer.
6\. They have their first big fight when she is eight and he is ten because Terra decides he's too old to play with her.
7\. When she goes from screaming at him to crying, he doesn't know what to do.
8\. In the end, Terra ends up playing with Aqua because he's found out he hates it when she cries.
9\. At age twelve and age fourteen, the two of them discover what crushes are.
10\. Aqua finds herself a hopeless mess around a boy named Zack Fair.
11\. He's handsome and funny and he breaks her heart.
12\. It happens when she sees him with her a girl named Aerith and they're laughing and flirting and look too happy for words.
13\. Aqua feels her stomach coil as she rips her letter to shreds and flushes it down the toilet, hot tears running down her face.
14\. She decides at age twelve that love isn't worth the trouble.
15\. Terra, on the other hand, gets his first girlfriend.
16\. They are happy for three months before she breaks it off with him.
17\. He forgets the reason for the girl breaking up with him, but all he can feel is his heart aching and something akin to rage settling in the pit of his stomach.
18\. The only person he talks to for two weeks is Aqua.
19\. She makes him laugh when he wants to cry and the both of them begin to heal together.
20\. They meet Ven when Aqua is fourteen and Terra is sixteen.
21\. Ventus is twelve and the happiest person they've ever met.
22\. Despite the age difference, they all become great friends and hang out after school.
23\. Upon finding out Ven is being bullied, Aqua makes Terra promise not to do anything rash.
24\. He still does.
25\. That is how Ven finds himself being apologized to by said bully.
26\. To this day, neither Aqua or Ven know what Terra did to the kid.
27\. Terra begins to notice how pretty Aqua is.
28\. She's slowly, but surely, coming out of the awkward phase of her teen years.
29\. Puberty hits Terra like a truck.
30\. It wasn't that he hadn't already been going through puberty, but suddenly he looks taller and stronger.
31\. Aqua notices.
32\. She takes up writing because it calms her down.
33\. Terra finds some of her writing on accident and can't stop reading.
34\. Well, not until she catches him and her face becomes as red as a tomato.
35\. It's awkward between the two of them for a couple days before Ven decides to intervene.
36\. When Aqua is eighteen, Terra twenty, and Ven sixteen, they all decide to go on a roadtrip together during summer break.
37\. It is filled with sandcastles, looking for seashells, and ice cream.
38\. Ven cries, just a little, when the trip is over.
39\. The two of them give Ven lots of hugs and promise to visit during break as both will be in college.
40\. It isn't until Aqua is twenty that she realizes her feelings for Terra.
41\. She's stressing about finals when it happens.
42\. They're sitting there laughing about one of their inside jokes when his hand brushes up against hers.
43\. She feels a jolt.
44\. At first she doesn't want to believe it.
45\. He's her best friend (other than Ven, of course) for crying out loud!
46\. She wonders when it all started.
47\. Fast forward to New Year's Eve and Aqua, Terra, and Ven are watching the ball drop.
48\. He looks at her and she looks at him and for some reason she can't stop shaking.
49\. Right when the ball drops, he leans in and kisses her.
50\. Aqua thinks maybe love is worth it after all.
51\. Ven screams, "Finally!" and gets a look from Aqua and a noogie from Terra. | 3830c419757347d59b36f0c2ca35ac83 | ['86a7872df76e4631a8a3a58740edc38c'] | A Recollection of Us
She shivers in the rain. It's enough to make him want to take off his jacket and hold out his umbrella to her, but he doesn't. He walks away. It's not like they know each other anyway, right?
(But they used to.)
The girl stares at the boy. He has such a beautiful smile and sometimes that smile gets to her. She doesn't know exactly why but it does. It's like a memory she's forgotten. She tries not to dwell on it.
(She does anyways.)
One time they find themselves staring at each other. The boy's the first to turn away. She's disappointed for a reason she can't quite place.
(He wishes he hadn't looked away.)
When they bump into each other the next time, it's in the music room. He's singing and she can't quite help but be mesmerised by his voice. There's so much hurt in it and she wonders why because it shouldn't be like this. Why is his voice so sad when he has such a beautiful smile?
(She wishes she could talk to him.)
It's raining again and she can't get these voices out of her head. Is she going crazy? Then the flashes come. A smile. A bracelet. A crash. It feels painful. All these memories. She doesn't want to remember. She shakes her head and continues walking.
(She's not ready to remember.)
She's snuck into the music room again. Too bad she can't sneak out as quietly as she came in. Books go flying and she lands on the floor in front of him. He smiles a dazzling smile and helps her up.
"I'm Sora."
"Kairi."
Somehow this feels familiar.
She takes his hand and smiles.
Maybe they could be friends.
(He grins at his hand the whole day. Riku notices.)
-complete-
**Author's Note:**
> I was wondering how to start this when I started thinking of rain and then it just went from there. This is supposed to be a remake of Of All The Things That Could Possibly Happen, but I don't know if I should continue this. Tell me if I should or shouldn't. If not, I'll just leave this as complete. If I should, well, I guess I'll continue this and we'll see what happens from there. :) |
fcc738e471d94a998bf629f247f7b6eb | ['86a8a2e223b94e5e9d13a6c78d0abca2'] | And even if he did show, Zoro would have to go out of his way to pick another fight. It's not like he could ask for another match, they weren't close friends; hell, seemed that whenever they were within speaking distance, they spat the worst words at each other that would make a nun faint. That worked for him, especially if it could lead to a real, physical fight…he wanted it so bad, he was starting to taste the leather of Wado on his tongue despite the burn of a long gulp of rum.
_Well, I'm not paralyzed,_
_But, I seem to be struck by you._
_I want to make you move,_
_Because you're standing still._
So wrapped up in his thoughts, he nearly fell out of chair when out of the corner of his eye he spotted the object of his obsessions making chatter with the tall, lanky bouncer at the door, Brook…Zoro was fond of the man, but the huge afro atop his head just seemed so odd to him. Not that he could talk much. He cursed at himself as he felt his heart skip a beat in his chest.
Sanji was dressed a bit different then last he'd seen the man, less like he'd just come from work and more like he intended to be at the club. Short-sleeved shirt unbuttoned slightly, untucked from his knee-length pants. The swordsman watched from his shadowy little table, tense and narrow-eyed; the tiger at last caught sight of the fox he'd been hunting.
_If your body matches,_
_What your eyes can do,_
_You'll probably move right through,_
_Me on my way to you._
Before he could even start formulating any semblance of a plan, let along act on it, several girls seemed to pick up on the Prince's presence and were flocking over to him…Zoro couldn't help but feel his heart sink, yet another odd sensation he would have to kick the cook's ass because. Grumbling, he tore his gaze away to glare at his empty glass…where the hell was Robin, he needed another.
They would continue mobbing around the man until it was time to go. Hell, he would probably pick on of the cuter ones to take back to his apartment and…
"Ah, there you are Cook-san," Robin called from her perch at the bar, smiling with a demure little wave.
"Robin-chwan~" Zoro snorted as he heard the other man swoon and make his way over to the blue-eyed woman at the bar, lavishing praise upon her until Franky showed up to scold him trying to butter up his girlfriend. But the swordsman watched with some mild interest as Robin leaned in to whisper something to the cook, which resulted in a perplexed look and a quite conversation went on. He couldn't help but be curious what was being said…
_I'm not paralyzed,_
_But, I seem to be struck by you._
_I want to make you move,_
_Because you're standing still._
What Zoro didn't realize was that it had been quite deliberate…Robin had knowingly drawn the cook away from the throng of girls, who had dejectedly returned to the dance floor after seeing their Prince go to speak with the sharp-eyed woman at the bar that they knew could always summon his attentions. The conversation was more a diversionary tactic on her part: as soon as enough time had passed in her opinion she gave the cook's cheek a pat and gestured for him to head on to the floor with a little knowing nod.
The cook casually headed toward the crowd, melting into it and soon had thrown himself into the music, moving his body and legs so passionately that Zoro almost couldn't stand watching…his hands closed into fists on the table and his teeth ground slightly. He wasn't a dancer…but hell if he didn't want to go out there then and…he shook his head, not even sure what it was he wanted to do. He couldn't fight here, obviously. But those twists and how easily he could swing his hips, the center of his power that rolled down along those long legs…something constricted the swordsman's heart and he glared back at his empty shot glass.
_If your body matches,_
_What your eyes can do,_
_You'll probably move right through,_
_Me on my way to you._
He couldn't stay here. His chest was too tight, it was too hot and loud and his head was a throbbing mess. Time to get the hell out of here, Zoro decided as he stood from the table, swaying just a bit under the effect of the alcohol. Leaving his tip on the table under the glass, he started trying to pick his way carefully through the crowd to get to the door. It seemed way too far away and hardly visible above the jumping, squirming mass of people…did it move? Maybe it was behind him…to the right more?
_You'll probably move right through,_
_Me on my way to you._
No, this was definitely wrong. So very, very wrong and definitely not the way to the door. Somehow in his quest for the exit, Zoro had lost his way and ended up amongst the throng right in front of the dj's stage. His eyes almost swum from how loud the music was there and he was all the more determined to get out of damn club. But as fate would have it, as he turned to try to locate the elusive door, he came face-to-face with the somewhat red-faced and sweaty cook. Green eyes met blue for a moment and Zoro cursed as his heart stopped. | e39c702389e9491a9d9b671529b012d6 | ['86a8a2e223b94e5e9d13a6c78d0abca2'] | Sam, meanwhile, retrieved the book in which the incantation of exorcism was written. He cleared his throat and began.
"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus!" he read loudly, Michael fixing him with a fierce glare. "Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii!"
"Latin," Hannibal commented, holding Will’s shoulder tight.
The bound man began to writhe, struggling against his bindings wildly. Will nearly jumped when the chair itself was propelled forward, but stopped suddenly before reaching the edge of the circle painted on the floor. Just as violently, it shot backward again, then to left, the right, as if seeking escape.
"Omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica!" Sam plunged on as the possessed man began to heave, black smoke wafting from his mouth. "Ergo, draco maledicte. Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire!”
"Te rogamus," Dean concluded. "Audi nos!"
Michael threw his head back and screamed, a flood of coiling smoke flooding up toward the ceiling before the incantation dragged it to the floor where it sent up a shower of sparks as the demon was banished back to Hell. The surgeon’s head slumped against his chest, his breathing slow and shallow while the four men stood there in awkward silence.
"Ta da?" Dean offered with a slight grin.
* * *
Standing in the surgeon’s hotel room hours later, Will scowled at the framed ‘art’ on the walls. The demon had been careful with his work, preserving the skin it carved from the women’s backs. The latest flower was still pinned to the table to dry, the others in their frames had been painted upon with oil pastels to lend them detail and color.
"Something is bothering you, Will," Hannibal offered, the only other person the profiler would allow in the room with him.
"This whole thing is bothering me," Will admitted, shaking his head. "I don’t know what’s worse…"
"Whether knowing that demons actually exist or that some evil acts are done _without_ their benefit,” the psychiatrist concluded.
"Exactly."
" ‘ _In every man’s heart there is a devil, but we do not know the man as bad until the devil is roused_ ’,” Hannibal quoted. “Perhaps we are only witnesses to these roused ‘devils’ before they are reborn in Hell as demons.”
Will would find no comfort in that idea, either. |
c8f6d7247ae74e7c9976658a4e719bb7 | ['86aa1e995e164cdd8038a86986498521'] | "It does. I’m sorry. I just hated how they looked at me, how they said they wished they could help me. I didn’t want you to look at me in that way. I didn’t want to cause any more trouble for you — for anyone. But here we are now,” he chuckled weakly. “I don’t know what I want to do anymore, Yamaguchi. I really don’t.”
“I understand,” Yamaguchi said softly. “That’s okay.”
Tsukishima peeled himself away from the other boy, and his pale face was speckled with splotchy shades of red that made Yamaguchi’s chest sink to his stomach. The freckled boy slowly took off the other boy’s eyeglasses and wiped away the tears on his cheeks.
Tsukishima kept his eyes lowered to the side. Moisture caught onto his lashes and blurred his unaided vision. A gentle caress coaxed him to raise his chin, and it was with great reluctance that he complied.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to support you lately, but I’ll do better,” Yamaguchi whispered. His voice was calm and soothing, much like the way his touch felt against Tsukishima’s skin. “I’ll be better.”
Tsukishima pursed his lips, pressing them tightly together to the point that they felt numbed. He slightly moved away from the other boy, and felt himself begin to relax once he’d rested his head against Yamaguchi’s shoulder. The two looked skyward, their eyes fixated towards the same direction.
“It’s fine that you don’t know what to do yet. I wouldn’t expect you to,” Yamaguchi said as he began to smooth Tsukishima’s hair. “Besides, you always think too much on your own.”
“You’re no better than me.”
“I know! But that’s okay. We end up figuring things out when we’re together, anyway.”
“Oh?”
“Why? You wouldn’t agree?”
“I don’t know…”
“Well, I know that I probably wouldn’t have survived the past year without you,” Yamaguchi confessed. “You helped me through my struggle to go back to school, and I could never thank you enough for that."
Tsukishima shook his head. "I barely did a thing."
"But you stuck with me and you respected my decisions,” Yamaguchi replied. “Ah, now that I think about it, I guess part of that was because you were going through your own struggle.”
The blond felt heavy yet light at the same time, but it was a comfortable kind of conflict. It was somehow reassuring to have Yamaguchi next to him, and in the silence that they shared he found a certain strength that he wouldn’t have found otherwise. He smiled softly to himself.
“Why do you do all these things for me?”
“Because you’re important to me,” Yamaguchi answered with a conviction that caused Tsukishima to smile even wider. “You've been strong for too long, Tsukki. You need some rest. When you're ready to decide what you want to do, let me know."
"How about now?" the blond asked. "What do you think?"
"If you want something, you have to look for your own way to achieve it, I think. I can't tell you what to do, but we can talk about your plans if you want,” the freckled boy replied. “I'd support you no matter what you choose."
Tsukishima straightened himself, turning to face Yamaguchi directly as he asked, "Really?"
"Really,” Yamaguchi replied. “I only want you to be happy."
Tsukishima scrunched up his nose when his boyfriend stopped to ruffle his hair when he motioned to stand back on his feet.
He stared at Yamaguchi accusingly, but the freckled boy only smiled and muttered, "Wait here for a bit."
The blond nodded, and Yamaguchi skittered towards the inner hallways. Tsukishima stared at Yamaguchi’s back until the other boy was safely back into the house.
In his newfound solitude, the boy wiped his eyeglasses and slipped them back on. The song of the crickets and cicadas echoed in the distance, and the faint flicker of fireflies blinked along to the tune. Leftover warmth still heated the space where Yamaguchi had just been, and Tsukishima traced his fingers along the wood in an attempt to get a hold of it. The sound of doors sliding open and shut grew louder as the seconds passed, and soon enough he could hear the sound of Yamaguchi’s panting.
"Oh? What's this for?" the bespectacled boy asked when Yamaguchi returned with a small box.
"It's for a lot of things," the freckled boy answered. He rubbed his palms against his jeans as he settled himself next to the blond again. "Open it."
“With you here?” he asked warily.
“Yeah,” Yamaguchi said as he tried to catch his breath.
Tsukishima reluctantly peeled off the paper bit by bit. The solid blue wrapping made way to stark black, the colour not much different from the shade that the sky had taken up.
Yamaguchi rubbed at the nape of his neck as Tsukishima thoughtfully weighed the jewelry box in his hand. “Uh, I originally wanted to get a ring, but I got the feeling that you wouldn’t like wearing one.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, uh,” Yamaguchi jumped, taken aback by the unexpected interruption. “Well, you fidget with your fingers sometimes, so you mind end up taking it off and misplacing it, you know?”
“Huh.”
“Bracelets would’ve been okay I guess,” the boy rambled, “but they might snag at stuff and get in the way of your work, too. And then Yachi wasn't sure if earrings went against the museum's dress code, so —"
A soft huff creeped past the blond’s lips. The sound was barely noticeable, merely amplified by the stillness of the air. Just as Tsukishima moved to cover his face, Yamaguchi held his hand down. The blond no longer attempted to hide how creases formed on the bridge of his nose as a smile made the corners of his mouth feel like they were being torn open.
“What’s wrong?” Yamaguchi asked, his expression halfway between worry and amusement.
The blond tried to sober his expression, but his grin never left him. | dd3e9e0955764a88b51f0dae2ee209c4 | ['86aa1e995e164cdd8038a86986498521'] | > I'm really sorry for the super late update!! It's pretty long though (~6k words!!! the longest yet!) and I thought that maybe I should split it into two chapters instead, but I just decided to post it as it is anyway as a sort of compensation for the delay. I had a lot of difficulty deciding how this chapter would go too, plus I got sick with a fever last week (I'm still unwell actually) among other things and just ughhh it has just not been a good time for me…
>
> Reading your comments really helped me work through the struggle, though! It's always surreal to hear what you guys think about the story, it's almost like they weren't meant for something I've made lmao you're all so nice… ;__; <3 Thank you so much!!!
He hadn’t expected to feel so uncomfortable first thing in the morning— rather, first thing in the noon, seeing as he’d overslept for the first time in ages.
A hefty hardbound book was the only thing between him and the rough computer table. Tsukishima lifted his head from the table and lightly massaged his jaw, the pads of his fingers brushing at rough patches. His mouth was acidic, tongue saturated with the aftertaste of last night’s meal. He blinked away the last of his drowsiness, and with it the innocence that sleep allowed slowly faded, allowing reality to creep back into his mind. Flashes of the days before began to mesh with his thoughts, and the dull ache in his temples brought him to his feet to pour himself a glass of water. He drank it down quickly.
As he rubbed at his eye, he walked over to his bathroom and brushed his teeth, angling his face in the mirror. Once he’d rinsed his mouth he swiped a thumb across his chin, hovering his free hand over a can of shaving cream. He allowed his hand to hang midair for a moment before shrugging and moving into the kitchen to rummage for food.
The refrigerator was mostly empty. Tsukishima reached over to the plastic container that Yamaguchi had passed to him a few days before then. Once they’d somehow untangled themselves from their embrace and their conversation awkwardly watered down into good byes, Yamaguchi quickly peered around his pantry and brought out a box. “I made these last night so they’re fairly new,” they said as they handed it to Tsukishima. Accepting the food made Tsukishima feel like a charity case, but he wasn’t one to decline. He hadn’t felt like visiting the supermarket either, making Yamaguchi’s gesture seem like an unexpected blessing.
He popped the container into the microwave and waited, massaging the bridge of his nose as he did. The blond walked back to his bedroom and picked up the eyeglasses he’d left on his desk, and he could hear the appliance’s timer going off in the distance. As he slipped on his black frames, he began to hear a different yet familiar kind of beeping. He turned his head from side to side, analyzing the sound’s origin with every tilt of his ear. Once he finally located the source, his cellphone had been ringing long enough that the call had almost automatically disconnected.
“Yes,” Tsukishima said as he brought the gadget to his ear.
“Ah, Kei! Did you really have to take so long to pick up your phone?”
“I had some trouble looking for it,” he mumbled. “Why are you calling again, nii-chan?”
“Mom just wanted to confirm if you’d be able to come over this Saturday,” the older Tsukishima said. “You were so undecided about it when I asked you last weekend, so she wants to know for sure.”
“Oh. I think I’ll be able to come over for lunch.”
“What, aren’t you going to stay over? It’s been so long since we’ve had the chance to get together.”
“I’ll think about it,” the bespectacled blond replied as he stared at the wall.
“Did you make other plans?”
“I guess.”
“With friends?”
“Just one.”
“Oh, so you have a date,” his older brother said with a chuckle. “Just bring them along to the house, then.”
“No way,” he responded immediately.
“Eh, so it really is a date?” the voice on the other end of the line sounded a bit more surprised.
“Is this all you called me for, nii-chan?” he said as he cleared his throat.
His older brother laughed. “Okay, we can talk all we want when you get here. See you then, Kei.”
“Ah, wait.”
“What is it?”
He placed a hand on the table as he said, “About what you said last time — were you serious about that?”
The silence that echoed through the receiver was heavy yet empty at the same time, and the weight it carried was enough to breed anxiety.
“Were you serious about quitting?” he repeated.
“Well, there’s no need for us to talk about this through the phone,” his older brother responded. “But yes, I was serious.”
“I see,” he replied simply.
“Want me to tell mom that you said ‘hi’?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll tell her that you’re ditching us for your date too.”
“What? Don’t —“
The call had already been cut short and he could only sigh as he set his phone back down on the table. Almost immediately, it began to ring again.
“What is it now?” the blond groaned as his stomach started to protest.
“Ah, did I catch you at a bad time, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi spluttered, their voice registering slightly lower through the network’s filters. “I’m sorry! It took some time to connect to your phone too, so I was wondering if that might have been the case.”
“No, it’s fine. I was just talking to my older brother.”
“You have a brother?” Yamaguchi replied, his voice heavy with curiosity.
“Anyway, what’s wrong? It’s rare for you to call.” |
ad5f556154b64c3e9fc1bd298236fb02 | ['86b2fb3ba839469ba8484ed74aeabe6e'] | The morning came with him holding onto me as if he were drowning and I was the only thing that could save him; his puffy eyes opened slowly looking at me with a questioning gaze. I got up not saying anything and opened the door unable to maintain contact with those eyes still so full of sorrow.
The rest of the members were gathered in the living room. “He’s is not leaving”, the deep voice of Tae Hyung said in a whispered
“We all are with you on this, but we don’t have the last word here, you know it. We need to be prepared for whatever decision they take.” Namjoon Hyung, as a leader, had to keep a cold head.
“I don’t see you doing anything to stop it! He worked so hard for this!” the second youngest said, his voice becoming louder.
It was Yoongi Hyung who silenced everyone “Shut up! Everyone just shut up!! We are not fixing anything this way! He was crying last night; didn’t you hear him? Why, instead of being here screaming to one another, don’t you go see how he is doing?!” It wasn’t common for Yoongi Hyung to get in between members, but his pale face told me that this was affecting him as much as me.
The sound of a phone broke the suffocating silence that has surrounded the room, everyone looked at Namjoon Hyung, I watched from the half-open door, Jimin has gotten up not getting too close to me but enough to listen to what was said outside.
When Namjoon Hyung put the phone down no one moved, no one said anything, we just waited “ He’s going to debut with us” the smile in his face bloomed and in a few seconds that weird quietness was broken, screams, cries, laughs,… feelings flooding all over the room.
Behind me, a small boy took a deep breath and I, still at the door, left the relief flow through every fibre of my being.
“He was staying”.
2. When we all fall asleep
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So... it took me a bit longer than expected, I decided to make it as real as it can be. It'll go in chronological order, how I think the events went.
> This first two chapters could be considered an introduction they are a summary of their first few years together and from now on we'll see how their relationship grows.
> I hope you like it.
> Thank you for reading :)
_“are you awake_
_it’s time to get up now_
_are you awake?_
_I’m so scared_
_of losing my best friend”_
_-Misty Miller-_
2013-2014
The day of the debut stage is a blur in everyone’s memories, screams and burning lights, sweat, pushes and fear, trembling hands and chewed lips. Part of the audience applauds, the small group of fans they’ve gather chant their names, others stay sit, but it doesn’t matter because it’s finally over and in their blotted mind it’s difficult to distinguish the screams from the music, everything becomes the same noise mixed with heavy breaths.
Their stage is short, no one very interested in a bunch of kids with dark clothes, they stay till the end, barely talking only bowing to other idols who don’t need a name in the back of their shirts to be recognized. In the way back home, the silence stays like a cloud suspended in the small space of the car.
When the door to their apartment opens everything comes crashing down as if they took their first breath, that fills their already burning lungs. Jungkook brings his hands to his wet face and notices for the first time the river of tears falling down his cheeks; around him, everything feels different, it’s the same small apartment they’ve been sharing but now the feeling of belonging, of hope, grows in between dirty walls.
He sees his hyungs hugging each other, in between murmurs, watery smiles and small hiccups. Jungkook looks around, looks for a small figure with black hair, he finds him on the other side of the room, his back to the wall and his head in between his legs. There’s some kind of pull, like an invisible force, that always takes him to Jimin. He thinks it may be because Jimin resembles home, Busan, with the thick accent that only the two of them share. That pull it’s there, in the nights he can’t sleep, and, in the days, everything feels too heavy; this time it tells him to go, to go and be the one to console this time.
Before Jungkook could take the first step, his hyung is getting up from the floor, his hair a mess, his face dry and a storm in his dark eyes. So, he stops, because there are too many emotions under that small smile, because those eyes, looking at him now, are trying to tell him something that he can’t grasp yet.
They celebrate, wasting more money than they should, there’s alcohol for the oldest and a consensus that it’s a special night, that they can be happy for a little while. It’s 2 am when they decide to call it a night, the hyungs a bit tipsy on alcohol and the youngest a bit high on emotions.
They fall into bed, the city is asleep and even the cars seem to sound more softly; Namjoon in a whisper says “we made it” before his breath becomes even, followed by the rest of the members. A small movement of the mattress wakes Jungkook up, but he doesn’t turn, knowing who it is by the smell of home that fills the air. A small voice “Can I sleep with you Kookie?” He doesn’t answer but moves a bit to make enough space for Jimin to lie down. | d2e56f633cc74d4488e2e8c6a4a94089 | ['86b2fb3ba839469ba8484ed74aeabe6e'] |
1. Puzzle
**Author's Note:**
> This is my first work, so please be nice :(
> I'll try to update 2 times a week, only this chapter is pre-debut, I want to talk about the whole story of Jimin and Jungkook, the good and the bad. Hope you stay with until the end.
> I'll add more warnings if necessary in the future but I think that's everything.
> Hope you like it and see you soon.
> xxx
_"God, give us the reason youth is wasted on the young_
_It's hunting season and this lamb is on the run_
_Searching for meaning_
_But are we all lost stars, trying to light up the dark?"_
_-Lost start, Jeon Jungkook cover-_
2012-2013
I don't remember who brought the idea first, my parents? my teachers? Me? But I found myself alone like dust in between skyscrapers.
I was happy at first, my first year as a trainee, I felt like an adult even if I was only 13, I had the other members, we laughed and danced in a one-bedroom apartment. At night when everyone seemed to have fallen asleep, I would go outside and break, without waking anyone up. I'd cry for my parent and friends; I'd cry of exhaustion and for the memory of a childhood I had lost too early. But in the mornings, I was happy, I smiled and laughed at jokes, and I hoped that no one asked me about the bags under my eyes.
It was the last year as trainees when he came, head low and high voice, small but strong body, soft and cool too. He was everything at the same time, warm and cold, and I found myself infatuated with him.
Trying to figure out who he really was, I took him like a puzzle. It was one morning I woke up earlier than the rest when I found the first piece. He was sitting in the kitchen table with a glass of orange juice in hand, looking at it as if it was going to hurt him. His face contorted in a frown that disappeared the moment I walked in, it was just him and I, and from far away I saw how the smile was painted in his face. His expression didn't change when I took a seat or when I picked the cereals from the cupboard, he just looked down and kept on stirring the juice; his smile, as if drawn under his nose, didn't reach his eyes, and I thought, that maybe, we had something in common after all.
Trainee’s days passed as a blur, we woke up, danced, vocal lessons and we went back to sleep, we did all of this for a dream everyone told us was unreachable.
I remember going to the dance studio one night, again unable to sleep, and seen Rapmon Hyung crying, sitting with his back to the mirror, and his face hidden in his palms making it impossible to distinguish if the little drops falling in between were tears or sweat. He wasn’t the only one, everyone broke down sometimes; more than once I saw Tae Hyung sitting in front of the window, with eyes closed as if trying to forget the reality; Yoongi Hyung spending his days in the studio, only a few words exchanged because when he came home he was too tired to even stand by himself; Hobi Hyung and Jin Hyung tried to be the strong ones, saying how everything was going to be ok, and to keep fighting, but then at 4 in the morning Hobi Hyung would get out of bed and go run for 3 hours and Jin Hyung would make lunch with a bit too much force and break the good knife we just bought.
Jimin was still a mystery, he didn’t talk much, but I never saw him cry; he worked more than all us together, sometimes I even wondered if he slept at all at nights. But he never cried, not when the dance instructor yelled at him for forgetting a step, not when the vocal teacher told him he needed to stay and practice more not coming back home until past noon.
Not when the company told him again and again that he wasn’t good enough, not a good singer, not pretty enough, not skinny enough, not enough.
I remember being called to PDnim’s office the day before our debut.
“what do you think about Jimin?” he asked, I wasn’t sure how I should answer, I didn’t know why he was asking me that.
“He is good, he helps me a lot” I wasn’t strong enough back then to look at PDnim in the eyes, but I asked, “why?”
“We are not sure if he should debut with you tomorrow, but don’t worry” But I did worry.
When I got back home that night the lights were out, as quietly as possible I took my shoes off and went directly to our shared room; then I heard it, a silenced cry breaking the calmness of breaths, in between the sheets, I found the small boy, looking smaller that night than ever before, he was covered from head to toe, hiding from us or from himself, his body convulsing with each tear not shed.
I didn’t think, I just wanted to comfort the boy who’s smile never reached his eyes, so I lied down behind him and tried to calm the crying kid, his body as if made for me, fitted perfectly under my chin.
The cries didn’t stop, they got worse until the exhaustion overpowered the sadness, and the tears were replaced with hiccups, and a whispered question “why am I not enough?” that I couldn’t answer before Jimin fell asleep. |
1e28d19f306341669024618a5f001c4b | ['86dba61f4cd049abb9c38ee32290bc58'] |
i was just coasting till we met
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Happy Star Wars Day!
>
> This was so much fun to work on. I haven't done an exchange in a long time and this was a perfect one to get back into it.
>
> So, my dear inconocible, you were a great giftee to have. I loved reading everything you gave me in response to my questions, I loved the songs you recommended, and I loved your overall enthusiasm. I really lucked out being paired with you. I hope you like what I came up with.
>
> May the Force be with you.
“You gotta raise your blade up a lot faster than that!” Kanan said. His lightsaber stopped just in front of his padawan’s nose once he finished offering the advice. Ezra groaned and belatedly lifted his blade to push the one at his face away. “That’s the third time today you let me do that.”
“Hey, I’m just getting started,” Ezra responded. He took four steps away, moving back to the middle of the _Ghost_ ’s cargo hold, and got back into the starting position. “I’m just learning your moves. I’ll get you this time.”
Kanan rolled his eyes at the cocky response but moved to get ready to start again. Overhead on the catwalk, Hera appeared. She leaned against the railing, smiling down at the pair. Kanan winked up at her before getting into the starting position. Ezra glanced over his shoulder and looked back with fierce determination on his face.
“Let’s go,” Kanan said.
He lunged forward as Ezra whipped his blade around to fend him off. They worked together, wordlessly building a new sequence to move through. Gone were the days when Kanan would tell Ezra what move to do next; now Ezra could just read his body language, look for the tells, and block the next strike. He had grown in his use with a lightsaber, they both had.
Once they were comfortable with it, they then each worked to find a way to stump the other. This was always where Kanan got the upper hand. Ezra was good—he was amazing—but he didn’t have the years of training and experience in fights that Kanan had. In and out of the Temple. Ezra was still learning how to improvise in these training sessions.
Today, however, with Hera as their audience, Ezra’s focus was shining through. He wanted to impress Hera, show her how far he’s come. Kanan smiled as he parried the blade coming for his shoulder.
Back and forth they moved through the cargo hold. Strikes followed by parries, on and on. They were both sweating now, this round pushing them further than the three before. Kanan was glad that he had stripped down to his black undershirt. Ezra had even stripped the top of this coveralls, now tied around his waist. How long had they been at this now?
Coming out of his thoughts, having mentally wandered away for almost too long, Kanan caught the moment Ezra got the upper hand. Kanan stumbled back as Ezra made a wide slash down in front of him. Regaining his balance, he ran forward. His every movement was being studied but he wasn’t worried. He had been in worse situations and come out on top. Plus, he had taught the kid everything he knew, so he knew all his moves.
He lifted his lightsaber up, getting ready for a one handed downward strike. Ezra raised his to block. Smirking, Kanan grabbed the grip of Ezra’s lightsaber and pulled it from his hands. He spun behind him and kicked, his foot landing square on the boy’s back.
His arms waving wildly, Ezra kept himself from falling to the ground. He turned around and glared. “Hey! That’s cheating! You’ve never done anything like that before!” he said.
Kanan twirled Ezra’s lightsaber, after turning it off, and tossed it over. “You have to be ready for anything,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “You were getting too comfortable.”
“So were you,” Hera called down. Kanan looked up at her, offering her a shrug as well.
“It was a dirty trick!” Ezra said, crossing his arms.
“Want me to show you how I did it?” Kanan asked. He grinned at his student when his eyes lit up. It was good that only Hera was watching them; this trick would be hard to pull off when you’re shorter and Sabine and Zeb would most definitely point that out. He had learned that it wasn’t always good to have the whole family involved with every aspect of Ezra’s training.
They worked for another half hour, Kanan showing Ezra slowly how to move through the motions of his ‘dirty trick’. Hera left and came back, holding a cup of something as she watched them work. By the end of it, Kanan could see how tired they both were getting.
Stretching his hands up over his head, he smiled down at Ezra. “That’s enough for today,” he said. He walked over to retrieve his discarded shirt. “Go take a shower.”
“Where did you learn a trick like that? It’s not like anything you’ve taught me before,” Ezra asked, not making his way out of the hold.
Kanan walked over and pushed him gently towards to the exit from the hold. Draping his shirt over his shoulder, he answered, “When you’ve been around the galaxy as much as I have, you pick up a few tricks.”
Ezra threw a skeptical look over his shoulder but allowed himself to be pushed all the way to the ladder. He climbed until he reached the catwalk, stopping to say hi to Hera.
“You did really well, Ezra,” she said, leaning on her forearms against the railing again.
“Yeah, but Kanan did better.” | 69ee5bbba99945d8940c08c1901d5f93 | ['86dba61f4cd049abb9c38ee32290bc58'] | Looking around the three he had once called his enemy—the three that on some days he must still view that way—Bridger nods. “Yes. I believe it is.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thank you for reading the start of this journey! It's gonna be a long one to get through together and I hope you're excited as I am for it.
>
> I'm excited to share what a possible version of Ezra and Thrawn's adventures. It's cool to see all of our ideas and thoughts and wishes so here's mine. Lemme know as it goes one what you think.
>
> I post updates and snippets for upcoming chapters on LINK.
2. A Familiar Unknown
The afternoon air around him is warm. It always is, this time of year. It’s a bit cooler out here in the fields than in Capital City, he learned that one when he moved out to his tower a few years ago. It was nice, at the beginning, but then the winter rolled in and the nights started to get too cold. He doesn’t worry about that anymore.
The golden-green grass dances around him as a warm summer wind passes through. He never knew why he’d pay attention to things like this, the wind and the grass and the animals and the occasional flower popping up. He knows now, it’s his connection to the Force, but growing up he just noticed these things and went about his day.
Now, he likes to take the time to sit and really listen to what’s around him. It’s what he was taught to do.
“So, this is where you’ve been hiding,” Kanan calls from behind him.
Grinning, Ezra twists around, brushing his hair out of his face, to look up at his teacher. His smile wavers. Wait, his hair is in his eyes? And why is Kanan wearing his armour again? He stopped wearing it when…
“I’m not hiding,” Ezra says, his train of thought disappearing as Kanan gets closer. This is more important than figuring out why things don’t make sense; he has to prove him wrong. “I’m meditating, following _your_ lessons.”
“Oh, sure, that’s why you’re out here away from the _Ghost_ after Sabine and Chopper made your morning a nightmare,” he says, laughing. Dropping down next to him, and crossing his legs, Kanan smirks. “You’re definitely not hiding.”
“I’m _not_. I’m being a Jedi,” Ezra mutters. He shifts to sitting cross-legged as well (crossing his arms for good measure) and glares up at Kanan. “Why are you out here? Just trying to find me?”
He nods and looks out at the field. Ezra looks him over. He’s younger, well, they both are right now. There aren’t any scars on either of their faces. He blinks. Why would there be scars there? Why is that weird? They’ve only just met, it’s only been a few months. They’re still permanently living on Lothal, they haven’t left to join the wider rebellion. The rebellion he isn’t aware of, yet.
“Take your time, it’ll make sense.”
Ezra closes his eyes. He takes a few deep breaths and waits for his mind to start clearing up. Kanan is right—he always is. It’s going to become clear soon, whatever is filling his mind with doubt and fear, and then they can work on that.
When Kanan drops a hand on his left shoulder, he opens his eyes. It’s night now, colder. The nights have never really been that warm out here. The moons can’t offer any warmth to the world below them. Ezra doesn’t shiver but he’s starting to feel the night’s chill.
“Kanan, I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“I feel trapped. Not because of them, because of me. I can’t see the way out of this. It’s like the Force only let me know up until that moment and now it’s decided I just have to figure the rest out alone. I’m completely alone now.”
There’s no answer right away, Ezra almost laughs. He doesn’t look over at Kanan because there’s a very real chance that he’s not there and that he is actually alone. He can feel the weight of his hand but that could just be his mind playing a trick on him. So, he waits and holds his breath, hoping something will come.
There’s a sigh and Kanan lifts his hand. “We’ve all felt that way, some of us maybe a bit more similarly than others.” They both chuckle even though it’s not that funny. “The Force shows us what we need to see. Your challenge now is that you are alone, figuratively, and that you need to find a way out. The Force can’t show you because the answer isn’t there yet. You have to decide what’s next.”
Ezra nods.
“It’s okay to be scared. You know that. And you know that you’re strong enough to work through that fear and not let it control you. You’ve made it this far, remember?”
“I know,” he replies. He looks up at Kanan and resists telling him that he wishes they had both made it this far. It would be a lot easier to handle all of this if he was here beside him.
Kanan looks down at him, smiling. “I have something that will help. There’s a trick to your situation that’ll get you through this.”
Rolling his eyes, he says, “Is it pretending that I’m not scared? I hate to break it to you, Kanan, that doesn’t really work.”
“No,” Kanan says, gently pushing his shoulder. “Thrawn will know that you’re pretending, it won’t do anything for you. No, it’s remembering that he’s just as scared, just as trapped as you are.” |
91258f120fa84d8286f3e49d8e0e598c | ['86e0fa4fddcf4fb79c4b9455bbf18507'] | From ceiling to floor, the scale stretches from one side of the room to the other. To Clarke it’s just a gradient of grays and she runs her hand along it. She falters at a strip of color the width of her pinky finger.
_It’s_ _brown_.
“According to Greek mythology,” Clarke jumps and turns her head abruptly at the voice of her mother as Abby enters the room with a clipboard in her hand and a young woman in glasses follows in behind her, shutting the door. Abby continues reading from a paper attached to the clipboard, “humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves. Plato.”
The woman in glasses pulls down the phoropter and clicks the lenses in place before pulling out a set of eye drops from the glass cabinet and setting them down on the counter.
“But the gods were unsatisfied when humans ignored their curse and stopped searching for their soulmates. So Zeus had Iris destroy our ability to see color until we met our other halves forcing us to search them out. Even after the world ended and the gods were forgotten, up here in space we see in black and white until we meet our soulmate. Commander Cole McAdams.”
Abby sits down the clipboard and looks up at her daughter with a tight smile on her face. Clarke fidgets with one of her braids under her mother’s gaze. She knew the story of soulmates well and understood that her world of black and white wasn’t meant to last forever.
“Hello, Clarke. I’m Dr. Glass. I’m going to be evaluating your eyes to make sure you can see color, okay?”
Clarke nods her head yes at the doctor and glances at her mother nervously.
“Some children your age can get confused and overwhelmed. We just want to make sure you can see clearly now.”
“What color are my eyes, Clarke?” Abby asks her. Clarke looks up at her mother and then back at the color chart. Her hand still rests on the strip of brown, but Abby’s eyes don’t match up to it. Clarke has no idea what color they her mother’s eyes are and begins to doubt herself.
Abby lets out a big sigh and shakes her head.
“It’s like you said,” Dr. Glass directs at Abby. “I can run a few tests, but it won’t matter if she’s lying. Clarke, did you meet your soulmate today?” Dr. Glass asks.
“I thought I saw them, but then I lost them,” Clarke says sadly. She can feel the sting of tears pricking at the corner of her eyes.
“It’s okay, baby. You must have heard some of the other kids talking about colors. But it doesn’t work like that. You have to meet your soulmate face-to-face for you to see any kind of color.” Abby squeezes Clarke’s arm and looks apologetically at the other doctor.
Dr. Glass puts away her eye drops and Abby takes her daughter back to the classrooms on the Go-Sci Ring. Wells and the other kids are busy at their desks. They look up when Clarke enters and Wells gives her a big smile. She sits down beside him and opens her box of crayons. She tries to ignore Abby whispers with her teacher and the stares from Nathan and his soulmate.
She looks down at the fresh crayons in her box with shades of gray and the blank paper on her desk.
“Can you show me the brown one?” Clarke whispers politely to Nathan. She hands him the box and he pulls out the right crayon for her.
Her hand hovers over the paper carefully. Zeus may have split her apart from her soulmate and Iris may have taken away her full view of the world, but she knew what she saw. Her soulmate was out there, on the Ark with her, floating out in space above the dead Earth. Clarke places the tip of the crayon on the paper and draws the loop of a brown curl she’ll spend the next twelve years searching for.
2. a kaleidoscope of...
It’s much harder than Clarke imagines, finding her soulmate. Ninety-seven years later, after the nuclear bombs destroyed the Earth, there were only twenty-five hundred known humans left on the Ark. And the combined twelve space stations were only so big. Most people met their soulmate when they were young, like on the first day of school or in the next years following. It was rare for them to be delayed because of a difference in age or if they were from a different Station on the Ark. It was even more rare for a person not to have a soulmate all together, but Clarke doesn’t like to think about that possibility.
Wells eventually meets Sasha. Nathan has Monty. Even Raven Reyes found her other half in Finn Collins, a total jerk, in Clarke’s honest opinion. But Clarke, at almost seventeen, was still without her soulmate.
She knew they were out there. She can still see the color of their brown curls every Unity Day in the dirt around the last living tree. Sometimes she sees it in the rust of the Ark’s old nuts and bolts, or in the special chocolate her parents give her on her birthday.
She’s covered up to her elbows in the color now and stares up at a coated canvas. Clarke had moved on from crayons in kindergarten to finger paints to watercolors and finally to the paints that she had mixed together herself. Always searching for the only color she could see in her dull colorless world.
The canvas, like the walls of her room around her, is completely filled with brown. Earth and her trees, her mother’s piercing eyes, and that head of dark curls. | b33f1699db2947aeb2d6cb4b992e5fff | ['86e0fa4fddcf4fb79c4b9455bbf18507'] | Clarke’s eyes snap open in surprise, and she pushes herself up. She’d kind of assumed that last night was a one-night stand type of thing; she wasn’t the sort of girl that got happily ever after’s.
Clarke cradles the phone between her ear and shoulder, trying to find a diplomatic way to say just that. “I didn’t think you would call.”
A deep laugh echoes over the phone, and Clarke finds she’s smiling without even meaning to.
“What kind of guy do you think I am?” Bellamy’s voice is light, teasing.
“Well,” Clarke teases right back, “you did technically hit up Raven on Tinder.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m calling.”
Her breath catches at his words, wondering what he could possibly mean by that.
“I wanted to see if I could take you out on a proper date. Pick you up and all.”
He says it on a rush, but Clarke can hear the smile in his voice and she sighs in relief.
“I’d like that,” she says simply, wondering if he knows just how much she means it.
“Text me your address and I’ll pick you up at eight?”
Clarke agrees and they hang up. She immediately texts him her details and then falls back onto her bed; Buddy cuddles up to her side and licks her face.
“Yeah, I know,” she says quietly to the dog, “He kinda makes me happy.”
Clarke had had Buddy before Finn; he’d been with her through everything. Through the bruises, through the shouting, Buddy would always come to her after Finn had left. He’d sit next to her, letting her cry into his wooly fur coat, take her time in putting herself back together.
They were both happier these days.
She lets herself linger for a moment longer, before pulling herself out of bed. She runs her hair under the faucet in the bathroom so she can properly dry and style it. She has plenty to do throughout the rest of her day, but she finds her thoughts are never far from warm brown eyes, and she keeps glancing at the clock without meaning too.
At five minutes to eight, she hears a car pull into the driveway, but doesn’t move from the couch. Beside her, Buddy perks up, before hopping off the couch and running to the porch.
From her seat, Clarke has a perfect view of the stairs and porch; usually about now is when she’d call Buddy off, tell him to step down and trust whoever is coming. Chesapeake retrievers are pretty affectionate by nature, but they’re also fairly protective. Clarke’s needed that trait in the past, and tonight, she wonders what Buddy will think of her date.
She hears the crunch of shoes on gravel, and then the swing of a car door shutting. Buddy hears it too, his head tilting as he sniffs from behind the screen door.
They both watch as Bellamy approaches the bottom of the stairs, surprised when he sees the shadow of a massive dog behind the door.
Bellamy doesn’t falter, continues up the steps, very much aware of the dog, but also trusting him. Buddy lets out a gentle growl, nothing aggressive, just a _hey I don’t know you; should you be here?_ growl, and Bellamy laughs slightly.
“Yeah, buddy,” his low voice carries, “I’d be protective of her too.”
Clarke isn’t sure whether it’s the voice or the tone or the man or the causal use of her dog’s name, but Buddy stops growling. His tail rises and starts wagging, and Clarke’s heart warms.
Her dog sees a friend.
She rises from the couch, heading to undo the door and give the two a proper introduction. Her smile is warm when she opens the door. Buddy’s approval means the world to her, because it confirms everything she’d thought last night: maybe Bellamy Blake is exactly the kind of man she should let into her life.
3. a soft epilogue
_I think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love. We are good people and we’ve suffered enough._
2199 Days Later
Bellamy Blake sat at the edge of the king size bed, his legs bouncing nervously under the weight of his resting arms. His large hands were holding a delicate handwritten letter. He read it over once, and then twice, before picking up the two violets that has been pressed between the pages. The petals were dry and their color had faded with age.
“My dearest Bellamy,” he read aloud. “You have loved all of my broken pieces and patiently waited for me to mend myself back together over the years. From the first night I met you, I have felt safe in your arms. May I always be your rock, like you have been mine. In each other, may we always find a home. And today, may we promise forever.”
Bellamy whispered the word forever again and placed the violets back between the pages. He heard the snap of a camera and looked up. He had forgotten about the photographer in the room. The one who had brought him the letter. The photographer Abby Griffin had hired for the day.
“That’s great. Can I get one with you with your jacket on now?” The photographer asked.
Bellamy sighed and rose up from the bed, folding the letter and placing it in his pocket, before slipping on the jacket of his tuxedo. He looked in the mirror across the room and ran his hands through his hair. His bride-to-be always told him how she liked it messy, the messier the better. Which wasn’t hard for Bellamy to pull off. His curly hair was always in a disarray. Especially today.
He felt a flutter in his stomach as he thought of his bride-to-be and what she was doing right now. Getting ready in the upstairs bridal suite. He could only imagine how beautiful she looked. |
060fd80b3bd4482fa47c0450cd92c235 | ['86e25b6b93394e3b989a39d4fd91dfd0'] | He said calmly, "So it is basically in ruins right?"
Pepper nodded incredulously.
"Well then, there's only one thing to do." He calmly rolled it into a ball and tossed it out of the open window.
Pepper gasped angrily. "Tony Stark! That was a good vest! Why did you-"
He picked up another vest and inspected it, equally critically. "Gone as well. Hemming, sleeves, material, humph! Not good enough for me!"
He threw this vest out as well. Pepper glared at him and he picked up a white shirt.
Tony looked it over with confusion. "What's wrong with this shirt? It looks perfectly fine to me."
She huffed loudly. "The cuffs are horribly frayed, the collar needs darning, a button is missing."
Tony took one more look and quickly pulled the shirt on him. Pepper glared and he looked down at his cuffs. "It seems perfectly fine to me. No work needed. You are being very picky, young lady. Next shirt please."
He took another shirt by the sleeve only, to find Pepper tugging on the other sleeve. "Tony Stark, let go of the shirt and let me darn it in peace!" she growled at him.
He tugged on the shirt mulishly. "It does not need darning!"
"Yes, it does!" she tugged it towards her.
"No, it doesn't!" he countered with a hard tug.
"It does!" "It doesn't!" They both tugged and the shirt tore loudly in the middle, down the collar. Tony let go of his sleeve quickly as Pepper gasped in outrage.
"Okay, now it needs mending. That's on you." He said, shoving the shirt back at her.
Then Tony got a face full of shirt as with a loud cry, Pepper started balling up shirts and throwing them at him. "Tony Stark! You! You meddling, distracting ninny!"
He dodged her throws and then nearly fell off the bed as Pepper threw a large pillow at him, hitting him in the chest.
Tony huffed loudly with shock and then picked up the pillow and threw it back at her. She tried to dodge it but the pillow nudged her and Pepper fell off the edge of the bed, needle and darning kit flying off with her.
Tony sat up on the soft bed, his hands over his mouth in horror.
"Pepper!" he shouted, scrambling to the edge of the bed, on his knees. "Pepper, I am sorry, I didn't mean-"
The sneaky woman leapt up at him and once again, boffed him hard in the face with the pillow. "Take that, you fiend!" Pepper cried at him.
He fell back into the bed, clutching his face and Pepper bounced onto the bed after him, smacking him soundly with the pillow, across his arms, chest and legs, in fact any part of him she could smack.
Tony tried to protect himself by covering his torso and head with his arms. He finally yelled, "I yield, Woman! I yield!!"
She let up smacking him for just a moment and he took advantage of that, to sit up quickly and grab her by the waist and toss her onto the bed.
He rolled halfway onto her and Tony tickled her ribs, angling himself across her body to keep her in place.
Pepper shrieked with laughter. "Tony! Please! Stop!" She wheezed out as he moved his fingers over her ribs and her stomach quickly.
She was red in the face and Tony decided to stop before she choked. So he raised both her hands above her head and lowered himself slowly over her body, moving his legs between hers.
His face was close to hers, torso pressed to her soft chest and his hips aligned with hers.
"Do you yield, sweet darning fairy?" He whispered against her cheek.
"If I am a fairy... what are you, a devil?" Pepper whispered.
He rubbed his beard against her neck and she sighed and arched against him. Suddenly the mood turned sensual as Tony kissed her ear and then the corner of her mouth. He took her bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled on it slowly, making Pepper groan.
"Do you yield?" He asked again. "Sweet fairy, do you yield to the Devil?"
"With all my heart...", she whispered on a gasp as he rubbed his chest against hers, "I yield, my lord."
"Since you yield so nicely..." Tony smiled and let her arms go. He was going to raise himself up, when Pepper wrapped her arms around him, holding him to her.
Tony swallowed hard as her sapphire eyes darkened in a very familiar manner. Pepper whispered sultrily, "I am your captive. Now teach me sin, you sexy Devil."
She moistened her lips with her little tongue and he watched the movement, feeling it in his stomach.
"It is broad daylight, Pepper..."
"All the better to see with, my lord."
"We haven't had lunch. Aren't you hungry?"
"I am, my lord but not for food. I am hungry for you..." The siren beneath him, wriggled her hips slowly and he groaned at the sensation.
Tony stared at her in shock. "Pepper! Maggie can hear us! She's in the kitchen and this door is open!"
Pepper rolled her eyes at him derisively. "Tony, you and me make love, nearly every night in this room. Are you telling me Maggie hasn't heard us once?"
He flushed at that because he had gotten some weird looks from Maggie on some days. So it was very obvious she had heard them, especially since he had picked up Pepper's habit of groaning loudly, when he was carried away by passion. | 35144f43714d43fda8787f757e50cc2e | ['86e25b6b93394e3b989a39d4fd91dfd0'] | A stack of towels, his soaps and musk as well as his dressing robe was placed on his bed, ready for his bath.
He looked back at Pepper in awe. "When did you do all this? Thank you, Pepper! So nice of you to get my bath ready!"
She just nodded and stepped into the room with him, leading him to his chair and making him sit down.
"Let me get the water, my lord..." she whispered and he heard a knock on the door. Pepper went to the door, he saw her bring in two buckets of steaming hot water and place them near the tub.
Tony stood up and came towards her, determined to help her but she quickly said, "No, my lord, you need to sit still. I will handle this."
He silently insisted and helped Pepper empty the buckets into the tub, steam rising from the hot water as they were poured. Then he watched, curious as she scattered a mass of petals into the tub. A sweet fragrance rose in the air and Tony took an appreciative sniff.
"That smells nice." He whispered and she smiled at him as she took his hand and led him back to his seat.
"Lily petals, my lord, I hope you do not mind using my fragrance."
He grinned at her. "Smell as heavenly as you? Who in their right mind, would object?"
Pepper smiled and placed her hand on his Arc. She gently pushed him backwards into his seat. Then she lowered her head and fiddled with the buttons of her coat, standing in front of the fireplace.
Tony tilted his head curiously and then felt his heart race as she began to unbutton the black coat slowly, revealing her beautiful porcelain white throat and collarbones. He swallowed once as the top of her chest came into view and she lowered the coat over her strong shoulders, two thin blue straps visible on them.
"Pep..." he rasped out as she unbuttoned the middle of the coat and then the bottom, giving him a glimpse of what she was wearing underneath, something wispy and blue, "Pep, what are you-"
Pepper smiled at him and let the coat fall off her shoulders with a whoosh. Tony forgot to breathe, drinking in the sight of her clad in a sky blue, knee-length chemise. A thin dark blue belt was tied in a bow around her narrow waist. The material was so wispy and sheer, it floated around her like a pale cloud, clearly revealing her slender siren body to him in all its glory. Below the belt, he could clearly see her sensuous curvy thighs, her reddish-gold womanhood and even the outline of her belly button. Above the belt, the chemise clung lovingly to her slender form.
He raised his eyes and actually woofed, because the chemise had a very low demi-cup neckline. Her breasts nearly spilled out of the dress, her coral pink nipples actually peeking at him from the neckline. Pepper's long, firm arms were bare and she folded them on her chest and he growled low in his throat because the motion just seemed to emphasize her sexy figure.
Tony couldn't get enough of her, raking his eyes over her up and down, feeling his cock painfully twitch in his trousers, his throat so dry and his tongue heavy in his throat. Then Pepper cleared her throat and he dragged his eyes from admiring her endless legs, all the way up to her blue eyes that were twinkling at him.
"Does my appearance please you, my lord?" She whispered throatily.
He nodded dumbly, his mind still occupied with her legs and then Pepper knelt in front of him. Tony made a funny noise in his throat because those heavenly breasts were now in level with his hands and he wanted to squeeze them.
Then he realized what Pepper was doing. "Pepper!" He said in shock, "Let go of my leg, I can take off my own shoes!"
He bent forward but Pepper put her hand on his chest and gently urged him to lean back in his chair.
"I have got this, my lord." She said softly with a smile and went back to undoing his boots. Tony sat back and concentrated on his breathing because all his blood seemed to be in his nether region. Pepper moving her hands over his legs, wasn't helping matters.
Then she pulled his boot off in a quick motion, smiling with triumph. He licked his lips because the movement just made her chest jiggle in a very alluring manner. One nipple had cheekily slipped out and he fought the urge to flick it with his thumb.
"My lord, are you thirsty?" Pepper asked with concern.
He dropped his jaw, not knowing what to say. _I am damn thirsty but not for any liquids._
She didn't wait for his answer and quickly pushed herself off the floor. Pepper moved to his table and poured him a glass of ale. She handed it to him and knelt back down, now working on his other boot.
He took deep sips of the ale as she took off his other boot. Then she stood up and neatly placed his boots by the fireplace.
Tony finished his ale and she took his glass and placed it on the mantelpiece. Then he watched, eyes wide as she bent over him, her face nuzzling his and began to unbutton his shirt. He kissed her nose and took a deep breath, filling his lungs with her intoxicating lily scent.
Her fingers nimbly undid his shirt and then she lightly ran her hands over his bared chest, feeling him lovingly. When he tried to kiss her mouth, Pepper straightened and said, "Please stand up my lord, so I can undress you." |
5dbb73a3eaa84991bb9c439da3de96fe | ['86fefac0db994625b76176a6b784a601'] |
Feels Like Snow
'It feels like snow,' Maurice said quietly, his lips brushing Alec's shoulder.
'More 'n likely,' Alec murmured in reply. 'Best stoke up the fire if we're going to be indoors all day.'
'Good idea.' Maurice shifted his hand from Alec's hip and slid it downwards into the tight bush of hair between his legs.
Alec's blurry laugh drifted up from the pillow. 'You know I didn't mean that,' said Alec, putting his own rough hand over Maurice's, preventing further exploration.
'Spoilsport.'
He stayed quiet then, the memory echo of Alec's laugh taking him back to the first time they had shared a bed, and Alec had laughed in the night, dismissing Maurice's insistence that they be known by their first names. He was like that still, sir this and sir that to anyone he thought above their own lowly station in life, and just as he was back then in private with his fuck this and fuck that. Maurice had taken Alec's point though; the likes of them didn't have many choices in life, so best not be too smart about it.
Alec shifted in the bed, pushed back the blankets and stood up. Maurice felt a rush of lust watching him walk across the room and kneel in front of the fire. He was so beautiful, despite the scars and... And.
Sometimes the lust would give way to panic, and he felt it rising up in him now. He could no longer see Alec by the fire, there was no snow outside, it wasn't Christmas Day.
They were back in Hell again, the sucking, grey mud gripping their ankles, and the rain sheeting down day after day after day. Until their unit had been blown apart by the biggest shell this side of Mons, he'd thought the waiting had been the worst thing. But now, with Alec gone, and him alone with the corpses of... God no, not even corpses. A collection of parts was all he could see, lying in the trench beside him. An arm here, a leg there. And Jesus Christ, something up on the wire. Someone hanging there, caught in the barb. He felt the bile rising, and tried to see Alec in amongst the carnage. But the blood was in his eyes and he couldn't see anything. Nothing. Nothing at all. He could see nothing.
'Alec! Alec!' He tried to sit up, but was entwined with half a man, parts lying on top of him, his leg crushed under something. If he had a leg, still. Perhaps one of the limbs he'd seen had been his own.
'Shhh, shhh, now...'
'Alec?'
'Shhhh, it's all right, I'm here. We're safe. We're home.'
'My leg...'
'Shhhh. It's caught up in the blanket, that's all.'
Maurice felt Alec tugging, and then the gentle release of bedding that had trapped it. And it was bedding, not anything else, not anything from then come to drag him back. He opened his eyes and looked down. The trenches and the mud and the bloody gore gone, only Alec close by him, as he always was.
'Oh God, Alec, when will it end?' He gulped in air, trying to get his breath back, and eradicate the panic still tight in his chest. 'No, don't answer. I know it never will.'
Alec smoothed down his hair, wet with fear and panic. 'It'll pass, Maurice. It'll get better.'
Maurice shook his head. 'How many years has it been, and still it follows me, wherever we are, wherever we go? I can't escape it.'
Alec climbed into the bed and drew the blankets around them. He kissed Maurice gently on the mouth. 'It ain't nowhere near what it once was. Don't come as often, neither.'
Maurice considered the truth of this and let himself relax a little. 'Perhaps by the time I'm seventy it might have gone. If I'm lucky.'
He smiled a little and Alec grinned in return, making Maurice want to weep even more. When Alec smiled, the scars on his face were more prominent, his left eye almost closing with the pull of tight red skin across his cheek.
'Get the papers.'
Alec paused for a moment than got up again and walked over to the small chest of drawers in the corner. In the second drawer down, he pulled out a tatty envelope. He brought it over to Maurice and laid it gently on the bed. Maurice sat up, tipped the envelope up, letting the papers slide out. He had read them so many times they had become torn and ragged around the edges. One day they'd fall apart, unless he threw them in the fire before that. He tensed his hand into a fist. No, that wouldn't happen for a while yet. But one day it would, he'd surprise Alec with that. One day.
He stared at them, side by side, the words blurring for a time before coming into focus. Scudder, Alec. Discharged. Scudder, Christopher M. Discharged. Those were the only six words he read. Over and over, murmuring them under his breath, until he believed them again and was able to look round whatever place they were living and realise that it was real, and that they were no longer there, back in that place.
'Maurice?'
He nodded and Alec folded the papers up and slid them into the envelope, going quietly over to the chest and putting them back. Safe till the next time. | f6278124c2394a658ff793cf4424c011 | ['86fefac0db994625b76176a6b784a601'] | They had walked round the lawn twice, and were back at the edge of the lake, looking out to where the steamer was creeping back up towards Rio, the white trails in its wake reminding Titty somehow of a skein of geese flying in V-formation, something they didn't see much of in London. She thought about this for a while, then realised suddenly that Nancy had asked her a question.
'Sorry, what did you say? I was miles away.'
'You and John, that's all. You're the only two still close to home.'
Titty wasn't sure what to say about John. He was in England, certainly, but close to home?
'We don't see much of John.'
'I thought he was at Harwich, still. That's not far. Mind you, I suppose with his job he could be here and there and all over the place at a moment's notice. Not like Timothy; Government Geologists seem to be as immoveable as the rocks they're studying. This posting will be it for us, I think. But I bet organised visits to John are a bit hit and miss.'
The mention of visiting John brought Titty out into a cold sweat.
'I say Titty, you've gone the most deathly colour. Are you all right?'
This is Nancy, Titty told herself. If you can't talk to Nancy about things like this, who was there?
'Oh Nancy, last year when we knew John was going to be around, Mother and Daddy decided to surprise him. But… Oh, I hardly know how to say this.' She drew out the handkerchief Nancy had given her and blew her nose.
'Mother said that they went to the flat, and Daddy rang the bell, then knocked when there was no answer. All of a sudden, just as they were about to go back down the stairs, the door flew open and a complete stranger stood on the threshold, looking at them in such a wild manner they thought he must be some kind of lunatic.'
'Was he?'
'No! Of course not! That would have just been the absolute limit if he had been. No. John appeared then, and there was a lot of awkwardness, and mother said it dawned on her rather gradually who this other man was. Daddy of course was onto it from the start. He said afterwards that he'd seen some of that kind of thing when he was at sea, and was familiar with it.'
'With what kind of thing, though, Titty?'
Titty stared at her. 'Don't you see? John is living in Harwich with another man!'
Nancy's jaw dropped. To her credit, thought Titty, she recovered quickly.
'Well, jibbooms and bobstays,' she said in a rather subdued manner. 'Who would have thought?'
'It's been awful ever since. Mother said she went for a walk whilst Daddy talked to John. She's no idea what was said, but you know how John always looked up to Daddy, and wanted him to be so proud. I think he feels he's really let the side down.'
'If not duffers…' murmured Nancy.
Titty let out a long held breath. 'Oh Nancy, thank goodness you understand,' she sighed, then burst into tears again. 'And the map… do you remember the map?' she blurted out between sobs.
'Yes, of course I do.' Nancy didn't sound very sure.
'Daddy still has it, in his study. He had it framed. John tried so hard…the North West Passage…'
The handkerchief appeared in front of her again and she let it soak up the tears that she felt now must have been building up for years. She seemed to be sobbing for hours, but as she raised her head, the steamer was just passing them at the other side of the lake, heading towards the once icy wastes of the North Pole. She started to cry for a second time, or was it a third?
'I wish we were young again!'
'We are young, even though it mayn't feel that way. And we have children, younger than us when we were Amazon pirates and Able Seamen.'
'Are you giving me a "pull yourself together" talk?'
Nancy didn't reply for a moment.
'Couldn't you think again about finishing Matthew's book. And your own?'
'I don't know. London is… well, it's not the kind of place for writing.' She sniffed. 'I don't think so, anyway.'
'Where would be?'
Titty shook her head. 'Nowhere. It's not about how you feel about a place. To be a writer, you have to be able to write anywhere.'
'What absolute rot! Who told you that?'
'I read it somewhere. A famous author said they had written their books in all sorts of uncomfortable places, and that to think you needed to be in a certain place was just an excuse used by those who were never very good in the first place.'
'I've never heard so much rubbish! Are you perfectly sure you're not using what this idiot says as an excuse not to do any writing at all?'
Titty squirmed.
'I thought so.' Nancy folded her arms. 'So, London isn't the place for you. Where do you think is?'
Another steamer was pulling out from Rio Bay. It was bigger than the other one. Swan, she thought, if the one she had been watching was Teal or Tern.
'I don't know that I'm capable any more.'
'You're a Swallow, Titty. Always were and always will be. If Susan can follow her dreams to Canada and raise a whole flock of young 'uns, and Roger become a doctor and John be brave enough to live the way he does, then you have what it takes to write your book.' |
6804eced237346149e2b3dacb416b93b | ['8711bec1c13f4820993c1c92321e6f90'] | I head in the same direction Harry disappears to, gravity making every step heavy and unbearable. The sound of phaser fire and the loud thud when I reach a darkened corner makes me gag even though my stomach has been bereft of any content since we crashed on this hell-forsaken planet.
The sharp racing pain at the back of my leg, slams me back into presence. My boot immediately filling with hot liquid, pain piercing deep into the muscles of my calf, enough to make me scream in agony at the twist of the sharpness in my leg and my visions fuzzes as I stumble. Clutching around me at anything that will keep me from meeting the cold ground again, as he rises, from around my feet, a statuette, towering above me, hobbled over slightly, but menacing all the same.
Despite my blurry vision, I note that he is favoring his uninjured side as he swiftly swings at my chest, knocking every modicum of oxygen I had within me to oblivion.
I am only half aware of my head hitting the shattered console behind me, the one that had been my loyal friend only minutes ago, housing me under its protective panels and wires. I cannot help but feel slightly betrayed for a second; for one hysterical second forgetting that it is an inanimate object and nothing more.
…but it was one that I'd worked on for hours. Configuring and re-configuring it to cooperation. Till my fingers were chaffed and numb and the distress call to voyager had been cast.
I thought we'd bonded.
Oh, how wrong we can be. I can only think as my vision begins to darken. I can half see him looming over me. Something large and angled in his hands raised high above his head, a sacrifice to whatever miserable, xenophobic, Human hating gods these p'taks worship, undoubtedly.
I know he wants to kill me.
He tells me with his eyes.
He will.
….his eyes change. I feel distant and far way and I know I am quickly swimming towards unconsciousness.
I'm only half grateful.
I know she did not have that luxury.
She knew she would die when she ordered us away. She knew from the moment we crashed and they urged her cooperation. After all they did she would not allow herself to fall unconscious. She did not give an inch. She would face her death like….
...his eyes were so blank and his body so still. The piece of angled console he held fell away from his grasp, landing right on my thighs with a force that betrays it's intent. His arms remain above his head, gaze unfocused. I am desperate to rise, but my limbs are no longer cooperating. My head is performing a intricate rhythmic pounding, at the same rate as the thumping in my chest, and my thoughts swim in and out of my reach.
He falls to his knees before me, gaze far away and unfocused. Straight ahead. I want to scramble away...to perform a finishing move... when it suddenly shifts to me.
Black and impenetrable. Only for a moment before he falls flat on his face.
The walls shift in and out of focus as I catch a glimpse... a flash of red and black. A phaser. A glimpse of pale skin, bright red droplets smeared across and auburn locks.
Half lidded Icy gray irises.
I claw desperately at the tendrils of conciseness but I can't help as my eyes slip shut. My body succumbing to the overwhelming pull.
I feel her hand on my wrist, a whispered cold caress. It makes me shiver and cling to the life line.
One that might not be my own.
When I wake up in Sickbay, I expect all of this to have been a product of hallucination.
Some terrible new Delta Quadrant menace that threatens our very lively hood.
I expected this to all have been some horrible dream.
One that I would wake up from to Tom's gentle hands comforting me.
Or Red Klaxons gratefully yanking away from but...
But I wake.
In sickbay.
And my knees hurt.
And Tom's eyes are red rimmed and swollen.
And I can still feel cold fingers on my wrist. | 1ee7dd1d3c9342b5ba5ba9695a8238b7 | ['8711bec1c13f4820993c1c92321e6f90'] | I might understand now, in retrospect the Doctor's words when he told me. "Time is the best healer." But I can't help the pang that resonates when I see them at the reunion. It has been nearly a year but when the gleam of the stones on her finger, catches my eye it reminds me of all those horrible emotions I felt that night. They are arranged in such a strange fashion, the stones.
Familiar in a way.
I look away when pulls her close, his arms wrapping around her in a gesture of intimacy that reflects a bit more than a sheer friendly embrace would.
I am torn between the dull ache buried deep, nearly forgotten and elation at the smile on her face. Natural and free.
But that ache...still lingers. Remnants from the night Chakotay disintegrated out romantic alliance.
In simple words it seems so forgettable now, so meandrable. But I know differently.
I know what it took.
Out of me.
Out of him.
It is the way his eyes become lit with a joy that I have never seen that stings the most. The way they never did when he looked at me. I try my hardest not to let the sting reflect in my own features.
Its strange in a way, but it seems that half the work of being human is masking your emotions.
Luckily this feeling is fleeting.
Or at least it becomes that when I catch a glimpse of her eyes, her expression from my vantage point at the bar. The sheer liberated, uncompromising look of utter delectation that she radiates from them as she picks up Miral before Tom and B'Elanna's feet, the little girls arms outstretched for her from her place on the ground. Chakotay's arm holding on to her waist relaxed and unyielding in an eerily balanced way.
Time was in fact a great healer. I smile as Harry places a hand over mine. Bringing my attention back to the conversation at hand.
"Is that a yes or a no?" his eyes betrayed the confident tone of his voice. I like it.
"Yes." I said, glancing down at his hand over mine. "If it will not impose your mother." My hand turns so that our fingers can intertwine in what I know is a tender, affectionate grasp.
His face becomes a lit with excitement. "She loves you, she will be happy to know you will be with us for the holidays."
I glance back at Kathryn and Chakotay. She is still holding Miral in her arms, a wide smile on her face and she glows with happiness.
I regret nothing.
I think back once more on ...that night and I look at Harry, his eyes betraying every feeling on his... Mind.
Somehow that ache is less.
Somehow, I am glad to be me and even in my wildest dreams, I had never imagined it would be like this. |
77496d1aa8c44716a25a16182a5d0d80 | ['8718d7eb12014ae381c4e4759308ff60'] | hold on tight and don't look back
**Author's Note:**
> [edit 22.11.13 why did i write this why does it sound so bad. sighs sorry]
>
> another flashback, set sometime in 2003.
>
> Inspired by a line from this blog about Frank's tattoos (http://spritesam.livejournal.com/17621.html) that says "people on the internet frequently cite Gerard as the designer of this tattoo"
>
> the tattoo mentioned in the fic is Frank's our lady of sorrows tatt.
_Gerard has lost a drawing and he is PISSED. He'd spent hours on that sketch, getting it just right, the colours perfect. And now he can't fucking find it! He KNOWS he left it under his pillow where he keeps all of his sketches. Only two people know about his secret hideaway; Mikey swears he hasn't touched it and Frank is nowhere to be found, so Gerard can't even ask him. They've got a day off, a RARE day off, and Frank just said he had_ "somewhere to be". _Gerard didn't question him; he often found that when he did ask, he didn't like the answer._
_It's dark outside when Frank finally walks up to the bus and Gerard still can't find his damn sketch. He jumps up to question Frank but stops short when he sees the bandage on the guitarist's arm._ "Can i--?" _Gerard gestures at the bandage, keen to see the new tattoo it's hiding._ "oh, uh, yeah, um, yeah of course". _Frank nods his head repeatedly. He takes a deep breath, eyeing Gerard nervously before lifting the bandage up gently so as not to damage the skin._
_Gerard steps forward, his fingers reaching out to touch before he remembers himself and retracts them. Frank finally gets the bandage off fully, revealing his new ink._
_Gerard's fucking knees go WEAK at the sight. Because there, permanently THERE on Frank's arm is his fucking sketch. Frank is looking at Gerard warily, not sure of the older man's thoughts._
_Gerard asks permission before closing the distance between them. He traces his fingers over the tattoo. The tattoo of his own art. Gerard catches Frank staring at him and smiles lightly before grinning fully and pulling Frank in for a tight hug. He goes to kiss Frank on the cheek but as he leans in, Frank moves his head and Gerard's lips graze his._ "oh shit sorry! Oh god Gee, man, my bad sorry!" _Gerard smirks and tells Frank to shut up before leaning in and kissing him properly, capturing Frank's bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling slightly, pulling on his lip ring. Frank moans, his hands moving to Gerard's hair, the tattoo all but forgotten as Frank tugs Gerard's hair, making the older man moan in response._
_They stumble backwards onto the sofa, landing heavily as Gerard pulls Frank onto him, his hands slipping behind into the top of Frank's jeans, moving lower to caress the younger man's arse. They lie there, making out and grinding their hips onto each other until Frank gasps loudly, quivering before collapsing onto Gerard's chest, the singer following suit a few moments later._ "So, you like the tattoo then?" _Frank asks, after catching his breath. Gerard laughs and kisses Frank's forehead._ "I love it" | 005b17672a814ae58e9eda9a3ecfdb8f | ['8718d7eb12014ae381c4e4759308ff60'] |
you can run away with me, anytime you want
**Author's Note:**
> [edit 22.11.13 oh thank fuck it's over]
>
> i've had a blast writing this series. it's been like therapy for me and i hope i got some awesome work out of it haha.
>
> enjoy!
>
> -okay so this is set about six months after the first two sections of this series. it's not a flashback (apart from italics as always)
As the doorbell rings for the second time, Frank groans and stumbles his way to the front door. “It’s too early to be dealing with this shit” he thinks miserably as he grabs his keys off the hook, turning the latch and pulling the door open. His jaw fucking FALLS OPEN as he sees who is standing on his front step, smiling slightly. “Can I come in?” Frank just nods, letting the other man push past him, stepping into his house. Frank shuts the door slowly, taking a moment to regain his composure before walking into the kitchen, offering his guest a cup of coffee. He makes the drinks the same way he always has done and carries them into the sitting room, handing one to his visitor before sitting down and staring at the floor.
The guest looks around, noticing that the room looks weirdly empty. He tells Frank as much. “Oh yeah, uh, Jamia left me”. The guest is shocked, his eyes wide as he asks Frank why. “She um, she got fed up of coming second” Frank makes brief eye contact with his visitor before looking away and talking about his LeATHERMØUTH show and how TOTALLY RAD it was. Soon, they’re both chatting away, arms flailing as they talk about things that excite them, acting as if the past couple of years hadn’t even happened.
The visitor moves closer on the sofa, leaning in towards Frank’s face. Just before their lips touch, Frank shuts his eyes. “Gerard” he whispers. He opens them to see Gerard licking his lips, eyeing Frank greedily. Frank leans forwards, gasping as their lips collide. Frank wants to stop, to move away; his mind keeps telling him that he’ll only end up hurt. But somehow, with Gerard’s hands clasping his face, he forgets to move. They sit kissing until Frank breaks away, gasping out “bedroom” before grabbing Gerard’s hand and dragging him from the sofa, down the hall and into his room. Frank’s shirt is already off by the time they reach the bed, his jeans being yanked off moments later. Gerard asks him if “this is okay?” and Frank, too turned on to care, just nods before pulling the older man onto him, kissing him once more.
*******
“Gee I can't do this anymore”
Frank and Gerard are lying on Frank’s bed, the covers messed up, wrapped around their lower halves. Gerard grabs a pack of cigarettes off the bedside cupboard and lights two. He hands one to Frank and waits for the younger man to talk again.
“I just can't do this. I don't know how to lie in bed with you and then act totally normally when you leave. I just – it kills me Gee”
Gerard rolls onto his side and pushes Frank’s hair back from his face. The movement triggers a memory in Frank’s mind.
**
_It’s 10.30am and MCR, and their van, are travelling down the highway, driving to Florida to play their next show. The previous night had been a motel night and because of that, the van doesn’t smell quite so funky – mainly due to Gerard having actually WASHED for the first time in a couple of months. Frank is making the most of the rare moment of Gerard being clean to snuggle up to his best friend, wriggling until Gerard extends an arm around Frank’s shoulder. The van floor is covered in merchandise so Frank has his legs pulled back, curling up to Gerard’s. Ray and Otter are up front, Ray playing with the shitty little stereo as Otter drives, tapping the steering wheel along to the beat. Brian is smoking, staring out of the window; Mikey is sitting alongside him in the middle seat, a “tap, tap” filling the air as his fingers fly across the keyboard of his mobile phone._
_Gerard picks at holes in Frank’s jeans, pulling out loose threads and twisting them round his fingers. Frank shifts slightly, resting his head on Gerard’s shoulder as he stares up at his best friend. Gerard smiles shyly, his hands still on the younger man’s knees. Frank reaches up, moving his fingers over the singer’s jaw, tracing the jawline from ear to chin and back again. Gerard turns his head slightly so that Frank’s fingers move over his lips. He opens his mouth, sucking gently on Frank’s fingers whilst still tugging out loose threads from his jeans. Frank’s dick twitches, his breath hitching as the older man continues to suck on his fingers. Gerard sucks particularly hard, just the once, causing Frank’s whole body to twitch and for him to moan way too loudly. The two men freeze as the other members of their band, and their manager, turn around to stare at them._
_Gerard still has fingers in his mouth and Frank is obviously hard in his ripped jeans. Ray laughs, Brian rolls his eyes and Mikey looks like he’s about to be sick. He glares at his brother and Frank before turning back round and slamming his earphones in._
_After everyone has turned around, Gerard resumes sucking on Frank’s fingers. Frank raises an eyebrow, causing Gerard to smirk and suck harder. As Frank squirms in his seat, biting his tongue to contain moans, Gerard just laughs._
**
Frank tries to move away but freezes when he feels Gerard’s hands playing with long, tangled strands of hair. Frank closes his eyes momentarily and when he opens them, they shine with tears. He whispers Gerard’s name, almost pleading, begging him to stop his torture.
Gerard lies back down, blowing smoke into the air. “I’ve been thinking, Frank.” The smaller man looks at Gerard, eyes still wet with tears threatening to spill over. “I love Lindsey”. When Frank’s face falls, Gerard touches his cheek, smiling sadly before continuing. “I do love her, I know that. But Frank. I've spent my entire relationship with her, either in bed with you or thinking about being in bed with you”. Frank’s eyes grow wide. “So I do love her. But I think that maybe -- maybe I love you more” . Frank is completely still, staring at the older man. Gerard leans forward and grabs Frank’s smouldering cigarette, stubbing it out before it causes any damage. He grins, earning a smile in return. Gerard kisses Frank on the lips gently before lying back down and smoking again.
The tears finally break free, staining a path down Frank’s cheeks. His inked hand shakes as he links his fingers with Gerard’s. With a trembling voice, Frank finally speaks the line he has held inside for too long.
“I love you too, Gee”
-end- |
c2f525adbd9f47bc805ae6f91d2144eb | ['8733825e730c491cbeadc2f598be0e8a'] |
Liquor Lisp
**Author's Note:**
> This is in no way meant to make fun of lisps or any type of speech impediment.
John was absolutely rubbish at anatomy which was a problem since you kind of need that to be a doctor. He _knew_ what everything was, but it was pointing it out or remembering the real names of things that he struggled with. He had struggled all the way through secondary school with memorization and now he was in university with his first exam and he could not for the life of him label body systems accurately.
He took a frustrated breath and stared intensely at a labelled drawing of the skeletal system for a few moments before flipping the paper over and staring at a blank copy. This should have been so fucking simple. He learned it all in _primary_ school. It was like the bloody solar system. He sighed and threw his hands up in the air and pushed himself away from his desk.
“If you insist on being in here while I’m experimenting, could you at least make an _attempt_ at being quiet?” Sherlock sighed in such a _long suffering_ way that made John want to suffocate him while he slept.
“If _you_ insist on doing experiments in our room, you can get over it,” John snapped, getting up to stretch. He could do this. He just needed to clear your head.
“You shouldn’t procrastinate. Your exam is in less the eighteen hours, is it not?” Sherlock said, getting up and removing his goggles.
The first time that Sherlock had done an experiment in their room, John had not been happy, but he preferred the experiments over the _people_ that he would have over. It was their first year in uni and had never shared a space like this before. They both had to make allowances. John had to warn Sherlock before he brought anyone home and Sherlock had to…
Well, Sherlock probably ought to have made changes, but John never really saw any difference with his habits.
“I need a drink,” John sighed exasperatedly. He went to open his mini fridge but Sherlock stopped him.
“You probably shouldn’t…” Sherlock started slowly but John gave him a look that made him finish quickly. “Let me get it.” Sherlock blocked John’s view into the fridge as he took out two beers, kicking it shut.
“I’ve heard that it is sad to drink alone,” Sherlock offered to John’s surprised look at the two bottles.
John smiled a little and sat down on his bed after accepting the beer from Sherlock. He uncaps it with his room key and leans back against the wall. Sherlock was still standing in the room holding his beer awkwardly so John took pity on him and patted the mattress next to him.
“We really should get to know each other better, Sherlock. We’ve still got a long time of living with each other left.”
“I already know everything important about you. No worries,” Sherlock said. John sighed softly and took Sherlock’s beer from him to open it.
“Thank you?” Sherlock said. He looked at the beverage with a slightly puzzled expression while John watched him. John smiled a little and took a drink that Sherlock mirrored.
It certainly was not tea, but Sherlock could manage. Inebriation must make it taste better.
And that was how it happened. That was how Sherlock Holmes ended up getting completely pissed with John Watson and how John Watson found out Sherlock’s Holmes’s biggest secret.
“John, if you you want to know thomething about me that’th important, I’ve got thomething.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” John laughed, watching Sherlock on his fourth beer.
“I used to have a lithp. I had to go to thpeach therapy for yearth before It wath corrected. Now it only happeneth if I’m not paying enough attention.”
John dissolved into a fit of giggles, burying his face into Sherlock’s arm to try to stifle them.
“It’th not funny, John!” Sherlock slurred and lisped, grabbing onto John and pulling him close so they were face to face.
“I had a lipth.”
“I know!” John cried out through his unending laughter.
“I don’t thee what’th tho funny,” Sherlock pouted.
“You’re not paying attention right now!”
Sherlock thought for moment. “Am I talking with a lithp?”
“You are!” John finally said flopping down onto the bed and letting another empty bottle roll away on the floor.
“Hm,” Sherlock frowned, lying down next to John.
“Am I thtill talking like that?”
John hummed affirmatively and patted Sherlock’s head.
“You have soft hair?”
“Thoft?” Sherlock asked.
John nodded and touched Sherlock’s nose.
“I think your lisp is cute.”
“I _know_ that, John. I already deduthed!” Sherlock slurred, crinkling his face up at John’s touch.
“What else have you deduced?” John asked, nuzzling his face into Sherlock’s curls.
“That you like my hair!” Sherlock giggled and squirmed.
“Mm, that is very true,” John nodded. “What else?”
Sherlock hummed in thought for a long moment that left John giggling even more.
“I have deduthed!” Sherlock finalled announced,” That John Wathon loveth me!”
“I do?” John raised his eyebrows.
“You do. I deduthed it.” Sherlock nodded solemnly.
“Then it must be true then. You _are_ the genius.”
“I am,” Sherlock nodded.
“Then, do you love me too?” John countered, leaning up on one arm so he was looking down at Sherlock.
“Of courthe I do, John. Don’t be thlow.”
John smiled broadly before leaning down and pressing a kiss to Sherlock’s alcohol flavoured lips.
Sherlock made a surprised noise against John’s lips and his arms flailed around a bit before settling on John’s waist. John took that as a hint to do more. John moved one leg over Sherlock’s hips and kissed him harder, one hand going into Sherlock’s hair and tugging gently.
Sherlock’s reaction made John pull back. He had jerked so hard and made such a noise John thought he must have hurt him. | 3b4ba49b13394bb0b011252ba6c958e0 | ['8733825e730c491cbeadc2f598be0e8a'] | John obviously lived alone. Only his mark was left on the space. The entire floor was open, like a large studio. The kitchen, though mostly unused, had a gourmet stove and two ovens, a French press, and an electric kettle with looked terribly out of place in such a posh setting. John walked over to the French press and considered it for a moment.
“I’ve had this thing for three years and I still haven’t figure out how to use it.”
He opened up a cabinet and extracted a normal coffee pot which matched the kettle.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he smiled sheepishly but it was clearly a joke.
“Feel free to look around,” John said. “This will take a few minutes.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The “sir” put a smile on Sherlock’s face that made him bite his lip.
Saying yes to Doctor Watson was the best decision Sherlock has ever made. His fingers grazed the soft fabrics and smooth finishes of the expensive furniture.
Rich, smart, attractive, and tasteful. Doctor Watson was absolutely perfect.
Sherlock sat down on the large bed in the far corner of the flat. Across from the bed through the lounge, were ceiling high doors that opened up to a balcony overlooking the city.
The flat, if it could even realistically be called that, was heaven.
“So you like it?” John asked, sitting down next to Sherlock on the bed and handing him a cup of steaming coffee.
“Careful: it’s hot. Wouldn’t want you to burn your mouth,” John warned.
Sherlock took his second cautious sip of the night and again it was perfect.
“Doctor Watson- John, may I ask you a question?”
“Sure, baby, anything,” the man smiled, wiping the corner of Sherlock mouth with his thumb.
“Will you kiss me?”
John placed the pad of his thumb on the plumpest part of Sherlock’s bottom lip.
“I would love to.”
The kiss, at first, was gentle. John was testing Sherlock, judging his willingness and experience.
Sherlock was a little overeager, trying to deepen the kiss far too soon. John placed a rough, calloused hand on the young man’s neck and pulled back so their lips were only ghosting each other’s. He took the two cups of coffee and set them aside before pressing their lips back together.
Doctor Watson tastes like their wine and coffee and peppermint. His lips are soft but even in a gentle kiss are dominating. His facial hair… it’s driving Sherlock mad. The hair tickles and tortures his face in the most satisfying of ways. John had not yet moved his hand from Sherlock’s neck and the other finds his thigh.
Just the gentle, beginning touches were overwhelming to Sherlock. John’s actions were so deliberate, so certain that Sherlock had no idea how to reciprocate.
“Lie on your back. Get comfortable,” John whispered, his breath ghosting up Sherlock’s jaw as his lips find the space below his ear.
When Sherlock moves away to lie down, John smiled hungrily. Sherlock’s cock was already straining against his trouser zipper.
“Oh, baby… You’re gorgeous…”
“Please… Daddy, I need you to touch me,” he said, gasping softly as John laid a land on his thigh.
“I’ll take good care of you,” John murmured, hovering over Sherlock before kissing him again.
The feeling on the beard on his skin could make Sherlock come. It was nearly over stimulating. He rocked his hips, looking for some relief for his straining erection. He found Doctor Watson’s thigh and wantonly started grinding on it.
“Please, please, Daddy… Oh…”
John reached down and cupped his bulge, making Sherlock’s eyes close with a delicious moan.
“All of this for me? Such a good boy…”
Sherlock gasped and moaned, “Please- Please- Daddy, I want you!”
“Tell me what you want, baby, and I’ll give it to you,” John hummed against Sherlock neck, the vibrations sending another jolt to Sherlock’s cock.
“Please, fuck me, Daddy!”
John deftly unbuttoned Sherlock’s trousers, his cock springing free.
“No pants? Sherlock… how… indecent.”
John wrapped his hand around the base of Sherlock’s cock but did not do anything else.
“Please!” Sherlock moaned desperately, his hips bucking into John’s hand.
“I think you need to learn some patience, Sherlock. Wouldn’t want this to be over too soon.”
Sherlock looked like he was going to cry as John removed his hand from his length to finish undressing him with care.
“Don’t you worry, love,” John murmured, pressing a kiss to Sherlock’s neck then his cheek. “You’ll get to come. And if you’re very good, you can come more than once.”
Sherlock whimpered, “Daddy…” but did not try to grind on John again.
John pressed a soft kiss to Sherlock’s collar bone, tasting the pale, unmarred skin. The mix of sensations made Sherlock moan again and we was visibly shaking under John, already coming apart.
Sherlock’s back arched off the bed when he felt the graze of John’s beard over his nipples.
“Daddy!” he cried out and gripped John’s waist, his eyes opening widely.
John circled his tongue around the pert nub and -- having realized Sherlock’s beard fetish – rubbed his cheek against his chest.
“Oh, Daddy…” he whimpered, writhing underneath the older man.
“Oh, baby… you’re already so close. Even dressed like you do, I bet no one has ever even touched you? Am I right, Sherlock?”
“Yes, Daddy, you’re right…” he answered, his legs and voice trembling.
“Oh, I’m a bad, bad man…” John murmured. He gripped Sherlock’s thighs and gently moves them. “Spread you’re legs, baby. Let me take care of you.”
“Oh, daddy…” Sherlock whispered, eagerly opening his legs as John removed a condom and a bottle of lube from the bedside table.
John coated a few of the fingers of his left hand in lube, and then, massaging Sherlock’s thigh with his right hand, circles his pink entrance.
Sherlock panted raggedly and could not help but push down against the finger, looking for _more_. |
fc779ffd277c4f0da866f493e2374b01 | ['874a92abb0174a52bbbb60f12802218b'] | You thought wrong
Ianto was sleeping peacefully in Jacks quarters, partly because he was comfortable and also due to the Retcon, he had no idea John was standing in the doorway, gazing upon him like a lioness stalks her prey. Pondering over and over what he was going to do. How to do it. He circled the Welshman, wondering if he would awaken. He rolled Ianto over and handcuffed him, Ianto didn't even stir.
Meanwhile, across the other side of town, in a small hotel. Panic began to sink in, John had disappeared at least twenty minutes ago and Jack was no closer to getting his wrists free. He squirmed roughly trying to break the bed, the cuffs anything that would budge. But nothing would. He was clearly stuck, his wrists were sore from tugging, his body exhausted from the assault and his mind clouded. Fear ran through his veins, his thoughts were of Ianto and the suffering John would deliver. Jack should have known better to get involved with John. He scolded himself.
Morning was approaching quickly, John made himself at home in the Torchwood hub. He'd made himself breakfast, enjoyed the comfort of Jacks office chair and even found Jacks computer password which was useful. John sent the team a message telling them rather professionally not to come to work. He had a sleeping Ianto downstairs, tied up and due to wake. Taking a teatowel from the kitchen John made his way to his victim.
Ianto had his back to the ceiling and John carefully tied the Welshmans arms behind his back. He couldn't help but comment to himself about Jacks bed, he recalled a time Jack had mentioned preferring a slightly smaller bed, more cuddle room, those were his words. John rolled the teatowel into a gag and climbed ontop of Ianto, he tried to be gentle. Like Jack. Ianto squeezed his eyes as he slowly came too.
It wasn't unusual for Jack to tie Ianto up while he was asleep, it wasn't unusual for Ianto to find Jack upon him when he woke up. But this still managed to feel different. It was too dark to see the figure clearly Ianto ignored his feelings but he wouldn't be able to for much longer. John offered Ianto the gag and he took it, he was unaware John was back in town. John fastened it, then ran his hand through Iantos hair, tugging lightly so he wouldn't give himself away just yet.
John leaned across Iantos body, pressing himself down on the younger man and Ianto responded with a soft groan. John gave the Welshman a soft kiss on the shoulder and brought his head to Iantos to whisper in his ear.
"Good morning Eye-Candy..." Ianto froze, his eyes shot open, widely. John planted a light kiss to Iantos cheek. "...It's nice to see you... In Jacks bed..." Ianto couldn't tell if it was goosebumps or fear he could feel overcoming his body. "Don't worry, we have all day. Jacks a little.... tied up and unable to join us. and as for the rest of Jacks little friends. I gave them the day off... I'm a generous person" John played with Iantos hair some more.
John got off of Ianto to roll him onto his back, he fought with the young Welshman to straddle his hips and sit back upon him once again. "I want to tell you a little story Eye-Candy.." John reached for his holster and retrieved his pistol. ".. and I want to make sure you are listening...Are you listening?" Ianto shifted his eyes between John and his weapon.
John loaded a single bullet into his gun then slowly drew the gun across the side of Iantos head "Once upon a time, There lived a man with God-like features... For discretion... we shall name the man... Captain Jack Harkness...Following me so far, Eye Candy?" Ianto nodded in absolute fear.
"Captain Jack Harkness, is Tall, dark hair, darker eyes, He's mysterious and clever... oh is he clever... But not in this story he isn't... You see Eye-Candy, Captain Jack, like all good men, makes mistakes. Jack works with a small group of people, they think their untouchable. Especially, Jack. You see, Jack is cursed with everlasting life!"
Ianto felt like his wrists were going to break, but he dare not take his eyes from John, not while John waved a gun in his face.
John ran the barrel along the side of Iantos face as if trying to soothe him.
"But what Jack doesn't realise is he can still be killed..." John pushed the barrel to Iantos temple, Ianto realised in any split second John could kill him. The terror began to show as a tear escaped and ran down Iantos cheek. Iantos heart stopped when he heard Johns gun click, John had pulled the trigger.
"I guess you lived to hear chapter two..." John smiled, Ianto sobbed quietly "Captain Jack Harkness... For such a long time now has enjoyed the best of both worlds.." John paused to collect Iantos tear with his tongue and plant a small kiss on the young man. "Most of the time Jack spends his time in a little underground hideout with his faithful companions... Especially a cute, little Welshman... We will call him... Eye-Candy..." John winked, Ianto didn't notice, he was breathing heavily and had his eyes closed, he felt useless, unable to move or defend himself.
"Eye-Candy is a very trusting..." John caressed Ianto and kissed him again "... and an atrractive young man.. It's obvious he is very loyal to Captain Jack Harkness, Eye Candy knows Captain Jack would never do anything to hurt him, he knows Captain Jack loves him... very much... But..." John pushed his gun into Iantos shoulder, Ianto shook with fear, gritted his teeth and held his breath, Click. Ianto cried out in fear, both eyes streamed with tears. | 01a792ae31e2474eae73d0816373b112 | ['874a92abb0174a52bbbb60f12802218b'] | Sam doesn’t hesitate, he moves the two feet and nuzzles his face into Max’s groin, swallowing the hard cock with an appreciative moan. Max is still somewhat on his side and licking a wet strip up Castiel's neck. He leans up a bit and tenderly kisses the other man’s jaw. Getting closer and closer to his slightly swollen lips.
“Was that good for you, Cass?” Max whispers, a small hint of a moan woven through his tone. Castiel doesn’t talk. He can’t. He just nods with his eyes peacefully closed, agreeing with the warlock. After not much thought the warlock looks teasingly up at Castiel, kissing the corner of the angels mouth. He knows they are going to need to provide Sam with more semen than he can conjure on his own.
Sam hasn’t lost any enthusiasm, he is still as eager as ever, struggling a little at the angle but, still obediently sucking what he can reach of Max’s tan coloured cock. He whimpers a little and pushes his face in further, whimpering louder when he can’t get more. Max surrenders and turns his body slightly and Sam takes in the whole length, his fingers grasping lightly at the warlocks testicles, giving the sack a light rub.
“Cass,” Max sighs at the sensation but other than that he’s quite indifferent to the tall man with his lips at the base of his dick. “Cass, baby, do you wanna do that again?”
Castiel hears the words but their weight doesn’t really sink in, blindly Castiel nods as he is pushed further into relaxation, the feel of the bed rocking him from side to side as Sam moves forward and backward over Max’s hard cock. His face twitches in curiosity when he feels the weight of something rest on his flaccid penis, but he trusts the pair he’s with so doesn’t yet open his eyes, he just waits.
“Arconciel…” Max whispers the words so quietly that Castiel can barely register what was said. The curiosity has peaked however, Cass opens his eyes and looks slightly downward at the warlock.
“What did you-” Cass cuts himself off with a small gasp when he feels his heart picking up, all the blood rushing downward and the anticipation to feel Sam on him. All of it, rising. They all mix together in the perfect potion of lust.
“Turns out i know a thing or two about love potions” Max says with a smile and a wink. Sam stills as the he takes in the new, growing scent beside him. The ‘Tete Emploi’ reacting to the growing arousal and Sam sinks further into submission. “How do you want to do it this time?” Max asks innocently and Cass looks at him, completely confused.
“I… I….” Cass isn’t sure how to answer the question.
“Here, Sam, back on the angel… you can touch anything you want- Except! His cock…” Max says, an evil gleam in his eye that Castiel was sure hadn’t been there before. Sam pushes his tongue through Castiel’s pubic hairs, collecting loose strands and sweat on the way. Cass, meanwhile, drops to the bed in sexual frustration, but he can’t exactly pin why.
Max gets up and tell Castiel not to touch himself or Sam while he picks up Dean’s duffle and rummages through the side pockets.
“Ah!... Here we are…” He hurriedly comes back to the bed and Max slips something tight over Castiel's cock. The angel bucks and groans at the tight fit. It takes Castiel seconds before he is a panting mess and Max gives the order for Sam to take the cock in his hand and lick just below the underside of the head. Max grabs Castiel’s hands and secures them to the headboard above, stopping the angel from interfering with his plans.
“Ah! You kno- I c-can just tear these off…” Cass finishes with a frustrated growl at Sam’s kitten licks. The soft, velvet touches driving him wild.
“If i wanted to restrain you, angel… I have magic,” Max smiles and lightly trails a hand across the cosmic beings chest, tickling the skin “consider them a warning, keep your hands up and just enjoy yourself for a change-" Castiel interrupts the warlocks speech with a glorious frustrated moan.
“Just- Ugh!” Cass gets lost in the bliss and rolls his hips trying to get it into Sam’s mouth.
“You are gonna spoil my fun…” Max quickly collects a rag from nearby and tells Cass to open his mouth. Obediently, and so overcome with lust, Cass is all too willing to comply. Max ties the rag behind his head and now, Max thinks that Cass can say whatever he wants because Sam, and ultimately the spell won’t be able to register his words.
Sam pulls back and stares at Max, a new neediness in his eyes “Want- i need both… Please! Need another load...”
“Soon, pet… I promise… Come give Castiel a kiss for being good…” The promise of two cocks sets Sam alight and he quickly gets off his knees and leans across Castiel's body. “hey- Hey… Sammy, kiss him, here…” Max’s fingers circles one of Castiel's nipples and Sam eagerly pushes his tongue over the shy nub and Max does the same.
Castiel tries to gasp but the noise is tied down inside his mouth, the gag not letting much sound escape at all. He jerks and his hands strain against the handcuffs. His eyes are tightly screwed shut once more and he lets his sense of touch take him. There is so much heat radiating off of the boys. And not enough of it is surrounding his slightly throbbing cock. |
fc13213df2374f82862d849026533ac4 | ['874d74f2f18146399492e0b328f18661'] |
1. Of nosy people, mermans in disguise and wet books
**Author's Note:**
> In which Kaneki is wet, Hide is nosy and a new frienship blossoms from scraps.
> Addiotional tags: mentions of bullying, cultural differencies and integration. Don't let yourself get fooled though, this is just pure fluff.
>
> (As a side note: I'm writing a sequel to the present ficlet, so if anyone's interested in it, please do let me know with a comment or a shout in my LINK askbox so that I can kick myself in the butt until I get it done).
“Why are you all wet?”
The question startles him and Kaneki almost drops the still open bag in his trembling hands. He flinches and keeps his back to the other boy, who’s probably still staring intently at his tense shoulders, his gaze piercing and inquisitive.
Kaneki hurries to collect the remaining books still scattered across the grass, soaked, giving up trying to squeeze out all the water that he knows won’t come out of them. They’re ruined.
“I fell over,” he explains, one hand flying to his chin, while the other hurries to close his bag with a click; he can’t help but notice how those brown orbs follow his gesture, and he tries his best to shrug nonchalantly as he avoids Nagachika-kun’s eyes altogether, instead directing his gaze to the river as if it were enough of an explanation.
_Please, please don’t ask any more questions_.
The message seems to pass across because the boy just hums in reply. He doesn’t seem convinced, but Kaneki can live with it as long as Nagachika-kun refrains from prying.
“Well, I have to go now,” Kaneki then says as a way to end the conversation. He suddenly feels really tired. How long till he can go home? He rubs his eyes and begins to walk off, not bothering to look behind his shoulder if the boy’s still there. “Need to stop by the library to buy new books,” he whispers to himself as an afterthought.
“Wait,” Nagachika says, trotting behind him. “Aren’t you cold? You really are soaked to the bone! You’ll get a cold, man!”
Kaneki looks pointedly at his feet, as he keeps walking, the boy in tow as a faithful dog alongside his master. “I can manage till I get home.”
“Do you live nearby?” Nagachika-kun asks, and Kaneki finally raises his eyes to properly look at him. He’s surprised when he finds genuine concern in those honest brown eyes. He looks away sharply, refusing to reply. No, he doesn’t live nearby, not that the boy needs to know.
“I’ll be fine,” he reassures again, speeding up his step. Nagachika catches up again. “Don’t you have anywhere else to be?” Kaneki hesitantly asks, knowing he’s being rude now. His cheeks flare fiery pink. What’s with this boy and his sudden interest in his business?
Nagachika-kun replies with a toothy grin. “Practice’s already over,” he says, glancing at the sports bag Kaneki now notices on his broad back. That’s right, he’s a part of the volleyball club. Kaneki averts his eyes again. He shouldn’t be fraternizing with a volleyball player, Kaneki thinks. He’s popular. Kaneki doesn’t want to taint his classmate’s good name if someone were to see them together. Besides, it’s not like he can let Nagachika-kun walk him _home_. How could he explain that he lives…
“I know that you’re a _marmaid_ -errr- I guess more like a mar _man_ , sorry, with your fishy scales and all that cool stuff, but don’t you get cold when you’re up here all wet like that?” Nagachika says as if he’s talking about the weather, and Kaneki freezes. He stops walking, his mind short-circuiting on him. He gapes, at a loss for words.
Did Nagachika just…?
How could he…?
_Since when_?
Had Kaneki let his act slip? Did anyone else know? Were they going to kick him out from school for good now? Oh, he bet that some of his classmates would be _thrilled_ to know the news. Would they call him names, to add to the bullying, now that they knew he was a… he was a… How long were they going to let him attend class?
“Whoa, whoa, man, calm down. Deep breaths. In and then out. In an then out,” Nagachika is on him in a minute. Kaneki looks at him, and lets the calm, soothing aura of the other boy calm his nerves, his eyes never once leaving the worried brown of Nagachika’s own as the boy repeats his mantra, his voice calm and steady, grounding.
Finally, Kaneki closes his eyes. He feels drained. The hand on his shoulder squeezes reassuringly, and Kaneki distantly thinks that he hadn’t noticed the other boy getting so close. He’s too exhausted to really care.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to startle you. I didn’t know it was a secret,” he awkwardly apologizes. Kaneki hesitantly raises his head to look at him, scanning his face for a lie. Nagachika is scratching his cheek in a nervous manner. Despite himself, Kaneki can’t find one.
“Well, if you weren’t cold then, you certainly are now,” Nagachika-kun suddenly notes. “You’re trembling.”
Kaneki recoils. “I-I should get home,” he babbles lamely.
“No way I’m going to let you go when you’re this shaken up. Besides, you’re still dripping wet,” Nagachika says, voice unexpectedly stern, the hand still on his shoulder tensing for a second. He reaches for his sport bag with his free hand. “Hang on,” he adds seconds later. “I should have exactly what you need, man.” Kaneki looks at him in bewilderment as he fishes in his bag, searching for something, his face lighting up when he finds the needed object. “Here,” he chirps, offering him a clean towel.
Kaneki just stares at his hand as if it had claws and was ready to attack him.
“Why?”
“Uhm?”
“Why are you helping me?” | 3a57b369860b452face813c968e0ebdc | ['874d74f2f18146399492e0b328f18661'] | “I-is this a joke?” he asked, voice trembling, as his eyes seemed to be glued to the weapon. He wanted to raise his gaze, look at the stranger’s eyes to detect the lie, the pretense. This was just an elaborate prank, wasn’t it? This guy – His soulmate, Mutsuki realized with a start – didn’t really want to harm him, right? It was a plastic gun, wasn’t it? He weakly laughed at the thought. Of course it was. This guy was his Chosen One. He couldn’t hurt Mutsuki.
Right?
His hands were sweaty and he knew he was panicking. The guy hadn’t said anything to reassure him. Still had to lower his almost-certainly plastic gun.
“I- uhm,” Mutsuki tried again, his words failing him. He finally managed to tear his gaze from the weapon, and he pointedly stuck it in the guy’s eyes, still shielded by his helmet visor. Even with that thing covering them, he could see the deep and dark shade he didn’t even yet know the name of. He could see them too, right? The colors. He was supposed to. Then why wasn’t he lowering that gun?
“Listen,” His soulmate finally spoke, “If you just give me all the money on the register you won’t ever see my face again. (Please comply. Don’t be a moron.)”
“W-why are you doing this?” Mutsuki asked, almost hysterics by the absurdity of the situation. He swore he saw the guy flinch.
“Buddy, let’s just try somewhere else,” said his friend weakly.
The gun in Mutsuki’s soulmate’s hand trembled for a moment,and for a foolish moment Mutsuki thought that he was going to agree. That this farce was going to end.
“We can’t. He’d call the police after we left, Idiot,” His soulmate said. Mutsuki heard his voice crack painfully, and in that moment he realized that the Thief must be feeling just as scared as he was. What a great consolation.
Mutsuki felt like he was going to puke.
“Why me?” he asked no one, falling to his knees. “Why did you have to chose this place?” He said, not expecting a reply, as his hands clasped his hair in a painful grip. “Why not everywhere else? Why today that I’m stuck here? Why _you_?” Spite colored his voice and he rejoiced in the way the guy flinched at the hatred and hurt in Mutsuki’s voice. He was openly sobbing by now, his demeanor had long since lost his composure, tears cascading down his face. “Why did it have to be you? A fucking _thief_ of all things. What did I do to deserve this kind of Fate?” He didn’t know what he was feeling sorry for anymore. This situation? His life? His pretty possible upcoming death?
“Urie, please, let’s just go,” the friend said, reaching with a hand for the gun in his Soulmate’s – Urie- hand.
“We can’t. It has to be here,” Urie said, and his voice broke again. “We’re running out of time. You know He’ll come after us. You know he’ll target Haru or– or my father,” he gritted his teeth. “Keep an eye on him. I’m going to bring the damn money myself.”
Mutsuki watched the guy make his way to the register as though he was seeing this from a thick glass. Then it finally stuck him. He wasn’t going to leave. He was going to rob his parents of weeks of hard work. He was going to take it all away, because he was a fucking _thief_ who didn’t have any respect towards other people’s lives and hardships. It hit him with a sort of finality that made him feel cold to his bones.
If this was the kind of soulmate Mutsuki deserved, he didn’t want to live as long as it took to fall in love with him.
If this was the Fate that had been bestowed upon his head, he was going to change it.
Mutsuki didn’t feel anything at all, as he swiftly jumped to his feet and threw himself at the guys’ throat, trying to disarm him. He didn’t feel anything as a single shot resounded through the tiny shop, moving the otherwise stillness of destiny. He didn’t feel anything as his Soulmate’s eyes widened in fear and realization as he looked at the gun in his hands as though he hadn’t been the one to fire it. Mutsuki felt his lips stretch in a bitter smile.
He did feel a string tearing from his heart, though, as he fell to the ground, blood pooling from the wound in his abdomen. He felt a strange satisfaction as he noticed the tears, incredulous and horrified, pooling in Urie’s eyes, and it was so strong to mend the pain of his heart breaking for some reason yet unknown to him.
And then darkness enveloped him whole.
x.
“I’m calling quits,” Urie croaked, not bothering to raise his head from his blanket cocoon. He hadn’t gotten up from it in days. He hadn’t showered in what felt like weeks. Shirazu pretended not to see the redness in his eyes, or how dead his whole person looked. He pretended not to notice the ever present slouch in his shoulders since that day of the robbery.
He didn’t know the real reason behind Urie’s crawling depression. But he had a faint idea. There was only one reason why Urie, the Uncaring, stony and stoic guy he’d known for half his life would feel so shaken up after what happened. It was already awful having to bear the thought of having blood to taint one’s consciece. Shirazu knew that for all the bravado Urie put on at times, he was just as human as any other. He knew that he couldn’t be okay with being a murderer. Dealing was a thing. Taking a life, though… |
ee7e5257096a4558bb7a047c06c3fb8e | ['8752cb7e0ccb430d8dd43f407ca35f81'] | Chain’s eyes went wide in fascination and without a second thought and before his own human could stop him, he brought his claws down onto Mark’s leg. Only enough that it would be felt and to rip his pants if it did anything at all.
And it did, four slashes appeared on Mark’s leg and he jumped, unknowingly pulling away from both familiars.
“What the hell is going on?!” He said, voice shaky as the blood drained from his face.
“Told you Red’s familiar is an asshole.”
Mark gaped open mouthed at his brother for a moment before, “familiars can only touch their human’s soulmate! And I sure as hell can’t see it so I’m not Red’s soulmate.”
“No, you’re not,” Snart said.
Barry turned to face him, trying to convey in a look that it would be a terrible idea for him to out them, Snart just smirked.
“Scarlet is all mine, if you try to touch him one way or another then bad things will happen to you. Like that,” he said as he gestured to Mark’s leg.
“So you are like us!” Clyde said turning to face him too. “You’re a telekinetic! That’s so cool!”
Barry really wanted to slap his hand to his face at that, Nor and Chain both hit their heads on surfaces around them. One of which was Barry’s leg. He reached down to pet who he thought was Nor and instead found rounded ears instead of pointed ones, Chain then. He shrugged mentally and kept at it.
“I’m full of surprises,” Snart told Clyde, though he was clearly watching Barry with his own familiar.
————————————————————————————————————
How was that mongrel able to /touch/ Mark and /then/ how was Chain able to touch him? Chain can normally only touch other’s when Len himself was touching them. Len was going to have to corner Scarlet and get some answers about that one, and soon.
As it was Len was slightly distracted by Barry petting Chain when the the cat had gone to the closest human it had access to for comfort. A quick glance at the wolf and Len wasn’t sure if it was smug or as upset as Len by this turn of events. Barry should only comfort his dumb dog and Len should be the one making Chain feel better.
Len would talk to his cheetah about it later.
“Well, move something else then if you’re so full of ‘surprises’,” Mark said with actual hand quotes.
Clyde rolled his eyes at his brother, Mick actually reached for his own gun and Lisa was...looking at what Scarlet’s hand was doing to thin air. She knew exactly how tall Chain was after so long together, she was going to be intolerable after this.
“You can’t just tell some one to use their powers,” Scarlet said, and bless his heart, he hardly sounded like he was lying for Len, then again, he had stolen before so maybe lying wasn’t something that would be difficult for him.
“Scarlet’s right, Mark, and why would I want to anyway. Just proved it to you anyway, didn’t I?” Len smirked, trying to goad the older brother. Scarlet only wanted Clyde on his crew, but now that Mark was in the picture Len knew it was a packaged set, which was unfortunate.
“Then what’s the cold gun for?” Mark challenged back.
Len brought the gun up and rested it on his shoulder, the business end well away from the back of his own head.
“This old thing? It’s to cool hot heads down. Don’t need the heat from CCPD coming down on me or whatever crews I put together, and if this doesn’t cool something down then this,” Len paused as he pulled his real gun out of a shoulder holster, “this will cool anyone down permanently, because when you’re out, you’re out.”
“Excuse us for a second,” Scarlet said and was suddenly in front of Len, his hands slamming down onto his shoulder and hip, but just before he moved them he turned to Mick and said, “make sure Black stayed knocked out,” and then he turned to Lisa, “you’re in charge,” and in a flash of bright colors they were on the top of a building, and Len didn’t think it was Clyde’s apartment building.
Len looked around and saw Chain was with them, but not Nor and Scarlet was still standing close.
“Something you’d like to say, Scarlet?” Len taunted, leaning in a bit closer.
He was pleased when Barry didn’t back down, especially after how the boy had reacted when he’d found him in his apartment several days ago. Skin tight leather apparently did him wonders in the confidence department. Len filed that away for later...he wasn’t sure what he was going to do with that information, but all information was useful eventually, most of the time.
“You can’t kill anyone.”
Len blinked at him and pulled back a bit, knowing that they could both hear Chain and his chittering laugh next to them did not help.
“Are you going to stop me, Barry? Every. Single. Time? I’ve killed a lot of people in my life. I’m a thief and a murderer and a liar, do you think you really can?”
“I thought you were an expert thief? If you’re supposedly so good, why do you have to kill anyone, how do they see you at all if you’re so good? Or are you just sloppier than you like to admit?”
Len frowned, no one was going to call him anything less than he was and his plans were damn good.
“What do you want, Barry? I have a new toy and I can up my game and it’ll let me keep up with powered humans, I told you I’d find a way.” | 22d5cbada85b4efdb4c4416ff5c951a1 | ['8752cb7e0ccb430d8dd43f407ca35f81'] | Barry Allen, CSI for CCPD...oh the irony if this kid was somehow his soulmate. Not that he saw any familiar in the room, but it was entertaining to think about now.
He put the report back in it's place and went back around to the side of the bed closest to the door and leaned down so that he was very close to the comatose young man's ear.
Len then whispered, "here's the thing kid, this is the 2nd time some event in my life has had me look you up. The first time any one can wave away as nothing. The second time starts to look a little like coincidence. Now I don't see your familiar, so I'm on the fence for us being soulmates, but I think there's something there. If you come into my life again I will be looking into you in a much more thorough way..."
Len stood up straight, another flicker of movement in his periphery made him blink and look away from the young man on the bed, but again there was nothing there. He quirked an eye brow and started to move around the bed again.
He didn't get very far though as the heart monitor started to escalate, as if the kid was running as fast as he could, but the number kept climbing and Len didn't like the way it looked so he turned back to the door and made his exit.
He was several doors down when the alarm sounded for a patient going into heart failure and the power started to flicker and go out. Len stopped and watched as several doctors and nurses rushed into Allen's room and he felt all of the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It felt utterly wrong that the kid should be going into heart failure, sure his heart was beating fast just a moment before, but with numbers as high as that and still he hadn't crashed in the short span that Len had been in the room...Something wasn't adding up for Len and he didn't like it.
He left the hospital and went back to the safe house. Lisa and Mick were waiting for him, Lisa's mouth already opening to ask if the kid had been his.
He waved her off as soon as he had the door closed.
"Didn't see any familiar in the room, surely with him being knocked into a coma by a bolt of lightning the beast would be right by his side," Len said as he sat down next to Mick and tipped his head back. He wanted to go to his own familiar and check on him, but he knew that if Chain didn't respond to him he would spiral downward again.
"Did you touch him?"
Len picked his head back up and looked at his sister like she was insane.
"So that's a no," Mick said with a snort next to him.
"Lenny! Even if you can't see the familiar right away, touch is supposed to be a clue too!" Lisa said, sounding exasperated and looking at Len like he was the insane one now.
Len rolled his eyes and tipped his head back again. "What good would it have done? Kid's in a coma, works as a CSI for the CCDP and if the report hanging off his bed was anything to go by, then one Detective J. West is his guardian and/or adoptive father. You know what I am?"
"World's best thief, even rated by Interpol?" Lisa quipped.
Len finger gunned at her because he had to give her that. He wondered how good of a CSI Allen was anyway...
"You gonna look into the kid then," Mick asked.
"Nope," Len said. "Happenstance happens. If he comes into my life a third time though, soulmate or not, kids going to be mine. One way or another."
Lisa snorted and Mick rolled his eyes. Len knew he was a possessive jerk. Upstairs a round and fuzzy ear flicked.
\----------
_B.Allen Observational journal, quick notes:_
_Have to make this quick, going out with Iris to see the Accelerator be switched on soon if I can get the tests to run faster...by force of will._
_So, this observation came just after I got back from Starling City. Nor had been effecting peoples familiars while I was away, and that was the farthest we'd ever been from each other. The only other time he claims that this has happened is the night Mom died and Dad was taken away. So...maybe in my extremes (distance and emotions) Nor can effect other familiars. He certainly doesn't seem to be able to do it normally. Believe me, he was trying at the crime scene today!_
_...And back..._
_I'm sure if he could have intimidated Iris' mugger he would have too. Time to wrap this up, we've got to finish watch the Accelerator coverage from my lab at work. Semi long story about that mugger._
\---
Nor sat on the far side of Barry's bed in the hospital. It had been six days since the accident and the lightning bolt and still Barry remained still. He had just shifted off of the bed when he heard the door click softly open but whomever it was didn't enter right away which was strange. All the hospital staff and Joe and Iris always came in right away when they opened the door. |
3dc6ab47442a405dbf3b839cfc910de4 | ['876864af40d64b699c431c06d489a0a4'] | His eyes cried for her, she knew. And she wished she could hug him like she did at Castle Black the first time, a little sister enjoying the comforts of a big brother's warm embrace. But she was a Queen, and propriety dictated its limits, even within her own family. Jon seemed to understand, that there was only so much he could do to comfort her...and that perhaps it wasn't his fault, but that the fault lay within the limitations of her own soul.
"I'm sorry I can't stay long," he muttered. "Ygritte...our child will be due a few moons from now. S'pose that's a good thing, considering how poorly us Stark men do down here. I meant it though, Rickon misses you too, you saved his life after all."
"That was Jaime, not me."
"None of them would be here without you, me, Ygritte...Robb... _all_ our family."
He meant it, she thought. And he didn't question just _what_ that meant, thank the gods.
"Maybe he can visit me with mother," she said, forcing a smile back upon her face. "I'm sure some of my ladies would be eager to meet the only unwed brother of their Queen."
Aside from the Three-Eyed Raven.
Jon looked away, apparently not as eager in sharing with her somewhat false happiness. "Robb says he's sorry. I know you don't want to go back north but...he wants to make his amends...somehow...maybe there could be a way."
Of course he was sorry, she wanted to scream at Jon, she could see it in Robb's eyes the moment he knelt to her in Winterfell. But the chasm in her soul churned, that she wished to nurse her grudge for some time longer, perhaps forever, because without it, what else did she have left in her heart?
"I don't know what happened between the two of you," Jon continued, in the wake of her hardened silence. "Maybe he doesn't deserve your forgiveness. But...I..."
"Tell him he can send his children south."
He was surprised as she, the moment she said the words.
"His children? All of them?"
"No," the Queen, replied, gathering her thoughts upon her realization. "I've no wish to rip them all from Talisa at once. Lyanna first, for five moons, maybe. Then Talynna for the same amount of time, after Lyanna returns. Then Cregan. Then Lyanna again." Twirling her finger in a circle on the cool surface of her drink, she stared her brother in his dark eyes, feeling her resolve building, along with the seeds of a new and building purpose to her life. "House Stark will learn how to survive in this world, wherever it may be, north or south, man or woman. By all the gods, I'll be the one to make it so."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> And that's it. Bittersweet, I'd hope.
>
> First off, I thank everyone for reading and reviewing this story, for leaving all your very thoughtful, extensive, and sometimes quite impassioned comments on this little tome...this has been by far my most commented upon story, and it's a bit overwhelming for me to comprehend at times. For those who read my last major story, A War for Five Queens, this was definitely a different Sansa, one who was hard to write at times, who pained my heart more. The last Sansa I wrote was, despite everything, very much a sweet soul...whereas this Sansa was far darker. I loved the Sansa from my last story, because how fervently she tried to not become the woman who permeated the text of this story. Yet, I can't help but love this Sansa too, because of all she went through...because of all I put her through.
>
> Again, I'm rather exhausted (and drunk) from writing and editing this last chapter (while watching Game 7 of the World Series), so I'll get to responding to the last chapter's comments tomorrow hopefully.
>
> As I mentioned in one of the last comment replies, the seeds of this story arose from the last one. There was a scene in A War for Five Queens, when Jaime compared Sansa to Tywin, and I thought, what if... There was another scene where Sansa and Arya spoke, and commiserated that they'd trade everything for a normal, banal, life, had the Red Wedding never occurred, and they could have Robb and their mother back, and I thought, what if...what if none of what they thought they wanted would end up that way...what if they ought to be careful what they wished for, because of what the journey through the GOT world made them?
>
> I also wanted to see Sansa play the game within a larger context, with more of the richer characters that populated the series before dying out well before S8 began. I wanted to write more characters like Tywin, and Littlefinger, and Stannis, and see how their paths might cross with an enlightened Sansa's. Yet, I didn't want to start her journey from the beginning as a little dove, because I didn't want to torture her THAT much...because I didn't want to recreate something like Ramsay, or worse...which is partially why I chose the time travel route, so that she could return to Season 1 already a seasoned player of the game, already with some of the worst behind her (though not all).
>
> One very prescient comment in the last chapter noted that rather than resembling Dany, as many were comparing this Sansa to, she was much more of a prettier, younger version of Tywin Lannister. I'd say there's A LOT of truth in that, because both of them care for their families, but both of them will override their families's happiness for whatever they believe is for their greater good (and both of them are smart and ruthless enough to play the game as such). But I think it would be a disservice to Sansa to compare her to just Tywin or Dany, when she's learned from so many others.
>
> Especially while Tywin was extremely devious, in person he was never anything but strong and fear inspiring, while Sansa, being a woman, would find it impossible to play the same role the same way. Here, she's got a bit of the Cersei and Littlefinger in her, learning how to plot, learning how to play the game unnoticed, in the peripheries, allowing others to overlook and underestimate her until it's too late for them. She's even got a bit of Robert Baratheon in her, with her rather blind hatred for the Targaryens at first because of her death and her family's, only further inflamed when they, like it had befallen Robert, cost her her beloved.
>
> But one unseen characteristic I think is also how she'd learned to act like Margaery. She played everyone, manipulating all the powerful men around her, attuned to their strengths and weaknesses, playing herself against them, making them feel powerful even as she manipulated them, from a King to Tywi Lannister herself...the only difference being that where Margaery used her sexuality and seductiveness, Sansa here is able to feign the sweetness her soul had once possessed...in addition to using her genuine emotions, whether it's loyalty to Shireen or Stannis, or her love then grief for Tommen, to further advance her interests in the game.
>
> I'll miss this story. I'll miss this Sansa. But thankfully, for my own soul, I don't think I'll have anymore stories to tell of her. I'm hoping to refocus my efforts on The Red Wolf series, and get out a few more chapters there. Other than that, I'm not sure if I have much more left in the tank in terms of stories to tell in the GOT world. If not, then I'd like to again sincerely and warmly thank all of you for all the support I've received through this story and The Red Wolf series. These were stories I had get out of me, I felt possessed at times, but your comments and your support have definitely made the process infinitely more enjoyable and gratifying! | a7733f0ad9f943e095690014e0bee31b | ['876864af40d64b699c431c06d489a0a4'] | _Every piece I've set on the board against Tywin Lannister, I can easily now play on his behalf._ Did she do that on purpose, when she'd rebelled in her mind against the Lord of Casterly Rock, knowing the possibility that she could find herself coming back to him? Was the opposite not true as well, that those same pieces remained in play for Stannis still, if the rotten gods weren't rotten for once and allowed her a miracle, whereby the King could somehow by some magic change his mind about Jon, perhaps impressed by his gallantry during the battle against the dead.
_If Jon makes it that far, with Thorne pulling his strings, before and during the battle._
"I suppose so long as our plans remain carried out in secret, if what you tell me about the Princess Shireen remains true, then she'll see no reason to oppose Tommen's claim, and we can let her remain Lady of Storm's End."
Sansa nodded, glad Tywin would accede on this point. "If only she and Tommen could have married. I mean no disrespect to my husband, my lord."
"But clearly you feel no great attachment to him either."
_He's not the worst. Not by far._
"Perhaps when the time comes and if we need it, King Tommen could convince the High Septon to annul our marriage amicably, and marry the Princess Shireen, only so as to further unite the realm. I'd stand with the both of them, of course, to continue advising the Crown, same as you."
Tywin grunted his approval. The old man had no great attachment to their marriage either, so long as Sansa Stark remained _his_ piece in the game.
There was one last piece, one which vexed her more than she'd expected. "The Hightowers will seek us out in the south, I've arranged to that. But I've given it some thought...Oldtown lies far to the periphery...on some occasions, they've been as much isolated as the Vale or the North; their reputation lies in the Citadel and the Faith...two institutions that are traditionally neutral from the Iron Throne. Politically, our position is far stronger with House Tyrell's support."
And because she did not want to make an enemy of Margaery either. Because Margaery was formidable, because her grandmother was even more dangerous...and because she liked Margaery, and like with Oberyn, she'd rather not see her a casualty of her wars, but on her side, if possible.
"The presumptive heir to Highgarden serves the Dragon Queen now," Tywin said, taking in her advice and further mincing upon it. "But he has no love for Stannis. Daenerys, we both agree, we'll have to murder openly, in cold blood. Will he begrudge us for it?"
She frowned. She'd barely known Loras in her last life, oblivious completely to who he actually was during that short farce of a courtship. "He won't be drawn to her beauty, that's for sure. I don't think he's that political at all. But he and his sister are close, and I don't think either one of them likes being separated so far from the other, or savors the idea of standing on opposite sides of a war."
He squinted his eyes at her. "Your visions include the...inclinations...of Loras Tyrell?"
She dared taunt him in a near playful manner. "Curious, Lord Tywin? Would you like a peek at them?"
Tywin returned her playfulness with disgust. "Hardly." He resumed his own fascination with the map. "Stannis gave the Tyrells the Iron Islands. It's a small boon, but hardly a great prize, and comes with more trouble than they're worth, if not properly governed. We'll just have to give them another prize, a better one." His own finger landed upon another castle upon the map.
"Storm's End?" No, she couldn't take away Shireen's family, and then the one refuge she still looked forward to in life, dreary and miserable Dragonstone had been as a home for her. "There has to be a better way."
"You think this possible, to forge a dynasty with kindness and roses, lordships and ladyships and the grandest castles to compensate nearly everyone on the losing side?"
_He thinks it kindness, to murder only a few great lords, alongside their king._
"It ought to be considered first, shouldn't it? Unless you declare open war against the Baratheons, how would it unify the realm to disinherit completely their last heir from the Stormlands? I know it's your preferred method, tried and true, but I'd rather not start things with snuffing entire houses to their extinction. Just the one with dragons will do." The face opposite hers was blank, and she wondered whether he was toying with what he thought remained of her girlish naivete. "Robert was merciful, wasn't he? A bit too merciful, perhaps. Maybe he would have been better placed had he shown less mercy, maybe he should have had _your_ head, Lord Tywin, for throwing your support to him only after the war was won."
Did she go to far? His expression remained unchanged. "Go on then, what would you suggest?"
_I accept your insult,_ she interpreted, _I invited it, even...but dare go no further._
"Margaery's the stronger of the two, and I think both of them know it. Whereas her father may be placated by the Iron Islands, she's better aligned with her grandmother, and their ambitions run higher, maybe more than merely just another castle..."
"Another kingdom," Tywin reminded her.
"I'll talk to the Lady Margaery at the tourney, try and get a sense of her." Again, she wondered if offering her own husband was not out of the question. Though that could be the worst way she could hurt him, she realized, her abandonment would cut him so deeply. He wouldn't want to lose her, not even in exchange for a Throne, and Sansa found herself surprised that the abject disappointment upon Tommen's face when receiving such news was not something she wanted to face. |
5047f30c18ca4def987ae461056ff078 | ['876b70a76bb94bbfae492a8012ceffad'] | Hoseok's and Namjoon's jaw drops at what Yoongi just told them, "So you're together now right?" Hoseok asks excitedly, practically inhaling down the soup. Yoongi shakes his head, almost a disappointingly. Namjoon shrugs, "Seokjin-hyung likes to play hard-to-get, so I don't know how much longer this will drag on." Yoongi hums, sudden pessimistic thoughts flood in, "What if... he's just going to date me for relief? To get over his heartbreak?" Hoseok and Namjoon look over to one another, the situation incredulous to the two, they don't know what to say. Namjoon shakes his head at Yoongi, "I don't think I've ever seen more dense people in my life than these two." Yoongi gives him a stink-eye, his mood has considerably dropped. "What do you mean?"
The two stare at him like he's grown two heads, "What do you mean what do I mean?!" Namjoon shouts out of frustration, "Seokjin-hyung has loved you since forever!"
Yoongi knits his eyebrows, "Uhm, _newsflash_ if you didn't know, he's been dating some dude for four years now until two days ago."
"Hyung, _newsflash!_ " Hoseok sasses back in a fake excitement, same volume as Namjoon's, "It's easy for him, _or anyone really,_ to hide his feelings towards an oblivious person like yourself. But!" Hoseok wags his finger in front of Yoongi's face, "Eyes can't lie, hyung, The way he looks at you is the same way you look at him! _Lovesick_!"
Yoongi blinks at him, utterly lost and in disbelief. "What?"
The younger two collectively groan in irritation, face-palming. "Nevermind! Just hurry up and send your lyrics by tonight." Hoseok reminds, getting up to leave, fortunately, they don't have classes today.
_Loved me since forever?_
_What?_
Yoongi is in the middle of working on his lyrics when his phone starts to blow up with text messages. He glances at it and sees it's from _Jaehwan_. Which is abnormal, Jaehwan never texts him, they're not that close but he is Seokjin's "other" best friend or whatever, so they did meet from time to time.
He looks at the text messages and his eyes widen at the paragraphs.
_"Seokjin told me everything, u dumb oblivious shit u finally got ur senses together?? Good! cos if u continue to fuck up I'm going to steal best friend title from u! ;D"_
Yoongi scowls at the last part, about to reply but another text message comes through, _"I shouldn't be the one telling u this, but I think I need to boost ur low self-esteem. He dated that Joohyuk dude bc he tried to get over u, he kinda got attached but when Joohyuk broke up with him he was mainly wailing about what if u would think the same about him. ANYWAY, just make sure that u get Jungkook's blessing first lmaaooo good luck."_
Yoongi is rendered speechless, a blank expression, his eyes sting from staring at his phone screen for so long without blinking, soon enough, more text messages flood his notifications and it's from their group chat. Spams of stickers of celebration and messages of congratulations fly up the conversation to fast, two people haven't seen the messages and Jungkook and Seokjin haven't said anything, so it's probably them.
Yoongi turns on 'do not disturb' to stop the spam of notifications and returns back to the blank sheet of paper, " _You're in love after all,"_ Namjoon's voice from yesterday says, and it reminds him of how much things changed in one night with just three bottles of alcohol. Yoongi curses and in the end, everything goes back to Seokjin.
Yoongi produces a full-fledged song in six hours, and Hoseok and Namjoon tease him in their own smaller group chat, laughing at Yoongi because the song _screams_ his love for Seokjin. They compliment the song though, saying it has a nice melody and the lyrics are perfect for people in love. He winds up sending it straight to BigHit and the CEO, and everyone loves it, they love it so much that they're releasing the song the same day.
"What?" Yoongi chokes on his ramen, eyes bulging at Namjoon who is sitting across from him. "They're releasing it soon," Namjoon grins proudly when he scrolls through his text messages to show Yoongi proof, "See? In two hours, hyung, your love for Seokjin-hyung will be known world-wide!" Namjoon cackles, he is enjoying Yoongi's shock way too much. _What the fuck,_ "They didn't even consult me-"
Namjoon laughs even more, slapping his hand on the table top to express how hilarious the situation is to him. "Well, you did say to them to never talk to you and instead talk to either me or Hoseok. Soooo," Namjoon's dimples appear again in innocence before he cracks up, holding his stomach when he doubles over in laughter. The chortles fill the apartment as Yoongi gapes at him incredulously.
Seokjin is a nervous wreck for the entire day, going to classes with his head filled with Yoongi and _just_ Yoongi. He can't think straight let alone walk without dazing out and knocking into a tree head first. Jaehwan snaps Seokjin out of it, "You're going to wind up in the hospital if you keep acting like this Seokjin." Seokjin waves him off, pouting, "I... I don't want to rush anything, or I don't want Yoongi to think that this is something so simple to just slip into--"
"You're overthinking it again!" Jaehwan sings, he's been reassuring Seokjin for the entire day that _"Yes, Yoongi loves you romantically, it's been about damn time. I know you love him too Seokjin."_ Seokjin whines, rambling, then pleas to Jaehwan, "Can I please hang out at your apartment after class?" | f8775f3d6dbb4acfa9ce8d05c1ee36f8 | ['876b70a76bb94bbfae492a8012ceffad'] | Even now, when he's pining over the breakup with his favorite person on all of Earth, looking like he hasn't showered in three days (maybe he did, maybe he didn't), and just threw some clothes on from the floor of his cold bedroom, Namjoon is sitting by his side lending his ear to listen. Because, _"best friend duties."_
Or he's just poking his nose into his business.
Most likely the latter.
_"So?"_ Namjoon's voice sounded impatient, but Yoongi and everyone else knows that Namjoon had the most patience out of all of them when in a good mood, at least on par with Jin. Yoongi downed the can of beer in one shot, some of the beer not making it into his mouth, and had stained his chin. His heart clenched as he tries to say the words as calmly as possible, "I made a terrible mistake." It turned out as a tiny squeak, a small groan as he plopped his head into his hands.
Namjoon rolled his eyes, "Yeah. I can tell. Just look at you."
"Oh fuck off. I'm serious."
"What happened?" Namjoon handed Yoongi another can of beer, opening it for him.
"We just got into a fight." The older one mumbled, taking the beer without looking up.
"Yeah- sure. Whatever fight it was, it was big enough to break the two of you up, and make you look like you just came out of the caveman era." Yoongi was two seconds away from throwing the can of beer at Namjoon's face. He needed someone to cheer him up, to make him happy with sunshine or rainbows or some shit, "Where's the Sunshine Trio when you need them?" He muttered. _Regrettably_ because Hoseok is skipping over to them happily. Jimin following behind with his best friend, Taehyung. Sunshine line for you.
"Hi!- Oh damn, Yoongi. You look like shit." Hoseok greeted, face judging the appearance of Yoongi. He looked like a wreck. Jimin and Taehyung stared at Yoongi for a good five seconds in silence before breaking out into laughter. _Oh if only they weren't Jin's friends, I probably would've strangled them by now._ Yoongi thinks as he scowled at the two.
"What?" He snapped at them. Hoseok sits by Yoongi, opening a can of beer for himself. "This is the first time they seen you so..." Hoseok trailed off, opting for a better choice of words. "In such a bad condition!" He tried to finish it off with a smile, but Yoongi kicked him nonetheless.
_Best friends my ass._
"I literally lost the love of my life and you guys are cracking up because of it?!" Yoongi had almost asked it in a whine, making Jimin and Taehyung laughing even harder. This time Namjoon and Hoseok joined in.
"This is serious!" Yoongi groaned louder, cursing at why he has these four jerks for friends.
"Jin just wants to be friends." Namjoon casually brought up one day when they're eating lunch together. Yoongi, now a junior student, felt the twitch in his eye. That New Year's Day, Jin had gone to the party their friends were hosting and had bravely apologized.
But only to be friend zoned.
_"I think it's better to stay away from relationships right now."_ Jin's voice echoed in the back of his mind, his heart aching every time it bounced off the walls of his mind.
And somehow word got around, and now all of his friends were mocking him for it.
That was until Jin walked up and joined in on their lunch.
But it wasn't as awkward as it was before, it was more comfortable this time around, everyone cracked some more jokes here and there.
For once, Yoongi could feel a relaxed smile on his face.
Things seemed to be going well, for another few months until one day when they were eating at a restaurant, Yoongi says something to Jin unconsciously.
"Is that my water babe?"
A second or two passed before Hoseok started to awkwardly laugh when it was dead silence, Namjoon joined in, and soon the rest. Except for Jin and Yoongi.
"That'- that's funny! Ha- I thoug- I thought I heard-" Taehyung exaggerated his laughter. Exaggerated his actions because he tries to lighten the mood by calling Jimin _"babe"_ as well. But in a flash of a second, Jimin stopped smiling and stared at him with a dead serious expression. "Ew you did _not_ just call me that. Babe from you is like hearing babe from my- from- from my cousin!" Taehyung gasped, then sighed in relief the look of an overdone offended expression. "Do you see me as your cousin? Okay, good, I had always thought you had a thing for me. I really didn't know how to break it to you, you know?"
_This,_ moments like these is when Yoongi can thank his idiotic friends for their humor.
Moments.
Plural noun.
That night wasn't the last time it happened.
Yoongi was doing his professor a favor with Jin and Namjoon, "Jinnie, what was that kid's name again?"
It's hesitant, but Jin forced a smile, Namjoon butting in. "Jinnie! Hmm, I don't like that nickname." Yoongi turned his back on the two, face burrowed in his hands in embarrassment. Namjoon's strained laughter making it more or less uncomfortable, "Don't you think that nickname sounds funny, Yoongi?"
Yoongi turned just the slightest, peeked through past his fingers and saw Namjoon's mocking and forced smile directed at him.
A few weeks later, they're eating out again to celebrate the break from exams, Yoongi decided to take the seat farthest away from Jin, but somehow, with one extra kid added, he ends up sitting next to him again. This new addition had big doe eyes, a defined jaw-line, tall and when he smiles, his bunny teeth show.
"Your name is Jungkook?" Taehyung asked in interest.
The new kid, Jungkook, nodded, fiddling with his fingers. "Thank you for inviting me to the dinner."
"I'm Kim Taehyung--" |
e37b7f8c6ae74f998854d091aee86f77 | ['876ff125017e41ccbbeb1a06021f25e8'] | “If I recall correctly, ' _that's technically sugar water, Steve!_ ", the super soldier said, mimicking Tony's voice and sounding nothing like him at all. "Besides, don't you hate Starbucks?” Steve points out as he slowly draws back, and Tony lets out a small whine at the loss of proximity. He masks it as annoyance that Steve was calling out his choice of beverage.
“Yeah well beggars can’t be choosers. I needed some sugar in my system. Been a long week, Cap.”
"Somehow that word coming out of your mouth sounds -"
"I leave you for four days and you turned into a wisecracking little monster. JARVIS, call Hill. I think Captain America's been body swapped with a 16 year old teenager."
Steve laughs, leaning against the wall, watching the tired lines of Tony’s face. He had been gone for days cleaning up the last remnants of his old house destroyed in the missile attack, tying loose ends before the final goodbye. Tony finally found the time to sell the estate and completely move to New York, to live in the tower with his new roommates. The Triskelion fiasco took a lot of Tony's attention so after putting off the sale for almost a year, this was the last time Tony was going to be making frequent trips back to California.
“I know it's been a hard week for you, Tony,” Steve says apologetically, even though he had nothing to do with the house getting blown up. “That’s what’s all this is about, actually. I wanted to, uh, surprise you. I mean, it probably wouldn’t turn out good. You don’t even hafta try them. It’s silly even.“
Was Tony that sleep deprived? Did Steve just said what he thought he said? “You baked me cookies to …?”
Steve sighed, but not unhappily. “Just thought you needed a … pick-me-up? I know you’ve had a lot on your plate, you'e been dealing with Congress since the Mandarin, with the Triskelion mess that I made, and Pepper leaving, the suits... and I haven’t been all that supportive either. In fact the past couple of weeks, I’ve been taking so much of your time-“
“Hey,” Tony warns, stopping him. “You are not a burden. Alright? We talked about this. Don’t you ever think that way.”
“I know but it’s a lot for anyone to deal with. Especially you, and you’ve got your own –“
“-demons to fight? Exactly why you don’t have to feel like this is a hardship for me. I can almost assure you each and every one of those people downstairs are equally ready to be here for you, because we're all damaged in a lotta ways. Look at Barton. The man lives and breathes mischief and sunshine but deep down, he's barely pulling it through if it wasn't for Romanoff. We all need someone, Steve. It doesn't have to be me, but I'm more than happy to stick around for you."
“Thank you, Tony.” Steve appears to have more to say, but he stops himself. Tony lets that slide.
“You alright since I’ve been away? How’s the sleep?”
“Not so great. But I’ve been keeping myself occupied with all this,” Steve nudges back to the kitchen. “It helps getting my mind off the uh, nightmares. Keeps me off the roof.”
“Yeah well Daddy's home now. We'll get you sorted," Tony said without thinking. A flash of red spreads across Steve's face and the super soldier ducks his face away and clears his throat loudly. It did not escape Tony that Steve had flushed hard and it was definitely something he had just said.
_No way._
"Come on, I'll give you a sneak peak," Steve suddenly says, eyes averted, nudging backwards.
They walk back to the kitchen, Steve leading the two. Tony had full view of that ass he’d been wanting to tap from the day Steve moved into the Tower but swipes away the dirty thoughts. _This was not the time, Tony. Steve’s being really nice to you, don’t freak him out with your fantasies,_ Tony warns himself.He continued looking though, since it was in his line of vision – it’s a glorious view anyway.
Reaching over the counter, Tony’s eyes popped.
A whole tray of Iron man cookies, decorated in red gold and silver icing, in even sizes laid on a cooling tray hidden from view. Most of them were perfect, but there were a couple that looked a little deformed but in a cute way. The stronger whiff of chocolate and peppermint filled Tony’s nostrils and it melts his heart. He hadn’t realized how wide his smile had grown and he looks to Steve.
“Holy shit, you made me Iron Man cookies,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief.
Steve gushes. “I don’t know if they’re any good. I think I burned them a little but they’re, uh they’re covered in frost so you wouldn’t be able to see. The second batch should be better though. Maybe you should wait for those? I think you should really wait for those, these aren’t that good for sure -”
Tony picks up a cookie and bites into it.
Delicious.
And he wanted to make sure Steve knew how much he appreciated the gesture. He wraps his arms around the super soldier and tightly hugs him, grabbing the back of Steve’s neck to hold him close. Before he drew back, he kisses Steve softly on the cheek, making sure the pressure was light but meaningful. The kiss was okay, Tony reasons with himself, because he kisses everyone regularly. The entire team was aware that Tony does whatever he wants, including pecking people randomly when his mood was better.
So far nobody has made a comment that Steve received the most kisses. In fact, he was as heavily affectionate towards his team leader as he was unruly.
This time, Tony tastes icing sugar. Oh he really should’ve left it with just the hug. | 2b3026fa813b42adbf8f885e890250e7 | ['876ff125017e41ccbbeb1a06021f25e8'] | This time, it was Steve who moves first. He daringly slides his hand up Tony's chest, up his collarbone to pull him by his neck. He presses his lips on Tony's, crossing the line forever.
Soon their mouths slot perfectly in each other, just a hint of teeth and tongue in the midst of the languid movements of their lips. Tony was experienced in the art of lip locking with both genders but he wasn't surprised at all by the way Steve moves; he was a mix of dominance and sensuality, unafraid and curious, eager but playful. It Tony was being really honest, Steve kissed like a very sexy woman who was very aware that she was in control.
When Steve pulls back, he examines his masterpiece - Tony was completely debauched. The blonde breaks into a triumphant grin. He grabs a fistful of Tony's shirt, pulls him slightly to lure him back in, only to press a hand on the brunette's chest, chasing after him.
He chews his lower lips, thinking, teasing. He runs a finger over Tony's lips, dragging down his lower lip before gently going in again, this time with more tongue.
"You've been holding back on me, Steve," Tony says when they break for air, still drunk on the taste of his crush. Tony peppers Steve's jaw line with kisses, inhaling his sweet scent. "God you're intoxicating."
"It's a Chanel knockoff."
This cracks Tony up, ruining the euphoria. He buries his face in Steve's neck laughing, giving up altogether.
Steve then forces himself to ask. "Was that ... too forward? I've never really .. I've never actually uh. I mean I've obviously kissed someone before. Once. Right before -" A frown line appears on his forehead and Tony could tell Steve was getting flashes in his head again.
He presses his lips firmly against Steve's to keep him locked in the present. It works, because Steve was high again when Tony draws back.
"Wasn't forward at all. I like it. You can do that anytime you want," Tony says in a low, husky voice.
Steve's face splits into a goofy smile.
The rest of the afternoon was pleasantly subtle. They managed to pull themselves together with Tony helping Steve go through the rest of the fan-mail. They would kiss every now and then between letters, but never went further than that. It wasn't a sprint to the finish line for either of them. They were just at the start of a very long walk, and whilst they would stop and enjoy the roses every now and then, the pace was comfortable for the moment.
As Tony steals a glance, he smiles contently. _I'm in love with a serial killer._ He stifles a laugh at the thought, trying not to draw attention to himself.
~~_Yeah, I'm in love_ ~~
~~_With you_ ~~
~~_STEVE ROGERS_ ~~
~~_TONY R_ ~~
_I'm in love with you Steve._
_One day I'll say it right. If I'm lucky, you'll say it back and mean it just as much. ~~Maybe if I'm really lucky, we'll tell the kids~~_
_I love you, Steve._
_Love me back?_
_-Tony_
Without realising what he was doing, Tony had penned his thoughts down at the back of a 12 year old's letter. Safe to say, that poor fan never got a response from Captain America.
Though he did get a letter from Tony Stark, with tickets to the next Stark Expo.
It was hand-delivered to Queens the very next day.
**Author's Note:**
> Please let me know if you liked this one! Kudos and comments are always appreciated (read: lived for!)
>
> |
81b7112d17174f2b85a31e44798095b3 | ['87a6577951b440ff9e08428d69317c9d'] | “The only bouquet that went to someone was the first one, because my friend was sick. But the others…” Inasa trails off and laughs, “My apartment still has several bouquets from my other visits. I needed an excuse to see you again, and I figured coming more than once a week would be overkill.”
“You came in,” Todoroki processes Inasa’s words slowly, “for me?”
“Yeah! Like I said earlier, you’re really cute.” Inasa says patting Todoroki’s shoulder but draws his hand back out of hesitation, “I didn’t know, if you know, would return the feelings, but I had to try.”
The feeling of Inasa’s hand lingers on Todoroki’s shoulder and the uneasy feeling in his stomach urges him to push further. A feeling that he often ignores in order to maintain a feeling of control is now his main source of motivation.
“I thought you were cute too. You became my favorite part of Saturday’s if we’re being honest.” Todoroki mutters rubbing his neck in embarrassment. “I’m just not good at straying from what I know.”
“I figured.” Inasa replies coolly causing Todoroki to stop walking out of surprise and Inasa continues placing a hand on Todoroki’s back pushing him forward again “I mean, you’re so meticulous with your arrangements. It’s why I love them so much, so I knew if I wanted to get to know you, I was going to have to make the first move.”
Todoroki’s feet carry him clumsily forward as he takes in the perspective of a stranger. _It shows in my work?_ He thinks, suddenly self conscious of his arrangements.
“Am I really that easy to read?” Todoroki groans rubbing his face with his hands as if he could erase his expression.
They reach the market, and again Inasa opens the door for Todoroki, sweeping his arm across in a grand welcoming gesture. Todoroki finds himself laughing at the action and nods his head in a thank you as he enters. The owner gives a short wave at Todoroki, and he holds up two fingers in response, silently placing his order.
Todoroki veers right making a beeline to his usual spot but hesitates noticing the table only has one chair. Before he can think to move, Inasa has a chair in his hand and sets it on the empty side of the small table with a proud huff.
“You come here a lot, huh?” Inasa asks settling into his chair.
Todoroki takes his place across from him and feels more vulnerable than he thought he would in a place so familiar.
“Yeah, everyday.” Todoroki replies looking around the room, as if he didn’t have every inch memorized.
Todoroki’s eyes light up at the sight of food coming toward them and Inasa smiles at his childlike response. The owner places the bowls down in front of each man and gives Todoroki a quick wink before turning to return to the kitchen. Both men give a quick bow in thanks before turning to their food.
“You really are a creature of habit, huh?” Inasa chuckles and pulls soba noodles up to his mouth.
Todoroki waits for his reaction, overly invested on the outcome, and upon hearing Inasa hum in satisfaction, feels relief. They eat in silence, the only noise between them is the slurping of the noodles. Occasionally, a noodle will pop against the side of their mouth making the other laugh.
Todoroki looks down at his emptying bowl and finds himself wishing that it were endless. The clock on the wall reads 13:30 and he knows that he needs to return to the store soon.
“Well, it’s no udon, but it was pretty good.” Inasa says pushing his empty bowl away from him.
“Maybe next time we can get udon?” Todoroki asks and feels his heart race at the thought of spending more time with the man in front of him.
Inasa laughs a booming laugh and his eyes shine with excitement at the quiet man across the table, “Of course!”
“So, uh,” Todoroki starts but hesitates unsure of how to end the outing, especially since he doesn’t want it to end.
Inasa glances up at the clock and his face blanches a little as he becomes aware of the time. He pushes back out of his chair quickly causing the legs to screech against the floor. Todoroki cringes at the noise but finds himself laughing at Inasa’s reaction, at how brash his movements are, in comparison to his calculated ones.
“It’s okay, I own the place, I’ll get back in plenty of time.” Todoroki soothes and starts to pull his wallet out of his pocket. Inasa holds his hand out to protest but Todoroki shoos him away placing bills on the table. “I’m a regular, I’m glad to pay. You’ve got next time, right?”
“Yeah,” Inasa says holding a hand out to Todoroki, “I’ve got next time.”
Where there were once three constants, one has changed: the cold soba from the corner market is still the best in the city, the delivery man will still come late on Friday mornings, but the tall man he’s seen for the last few weeks will now be coming in a lot more.
**Author's Note:**
> This is for day one of InaTodo week: Flowers. I've never written InaTodo before but I loved it! As always let me know what you think. | 25e6d7e10c7d44c8a381ed96a1a88efa | ['87a6577951b440ff9e08428d69317c9d'] | What if he isn’t happy? His breathing catches and for the first time, Bakugo realizes something that he’s always known, but has never admitted to himself.
He loves Kirishima Eijirou.
2. Give and Take
A knock on the door pushes Bakugo out of his thoughts, and he realizes that he’s been laying on his bed thinking for the last thirty minutes. His face flushes red, knowing that the object of his thoughts is standing on the other side of the door.
Bakugo rubs his hands over his face, vigorously, as if it could erase the color staining his cheeks, and he only succeeds in making it worse.
_I can’t let him see me like this,_ He thinks sliding off the side of the bed, and starts toward the door.
“Hey, uh, I thought you said thirty minutes,” Kirishima mumbles through the door, “If you need more time, it’s no problem.” Bakugo can hear the disappointment in his boyfriend’s voice, and it pulls at his chest.
“Get in here, asshole.” Bakugo huffs at the boy on the other side of the door, and turns to fall back into his desk chair with a thump.
The door creaks open slowly, and Kirishima peeks his head in around the edge of the door, his smile subdued with worry. _Shit,_ Bakugo thinks, letting his head fall back to stare at the ceiling. Kirishima being worried about him isn’t making his stomach settle any easier.
“I said,” Bakugo says, raising his head back up to meet Kirishima’s eyes, “ _get in here_.”
Kirishima slides the rest of the way into the room, shutting the door softly behind him, and turns to lean against it. His hands swing awkwardly at his sides and he scuffs his foot against the ground softly.He’s been waiting for the last thirty minutes to get in here, and suddenly he’d rather be anywhere else.
The space between the two boys is only a couple of feet, but it might as well be miles. The silence hangs beneath them, heavy with words unsaid, and neither wants to be the first to speak.
Kirishima crosses his arms and shifts his gaze around the room, not that he thinks anything has changed, he just likes the simplicity of Bakugo’s room. It suits him.
Bakugo sighs, rocking his chair back and forth on two legs, with his arms tucked behind his head. He’s trying to put up a front, one that shows how relaxed he is, and so far he thinks it’s working. He’s not going to lose this game of conversation chicken, not when he’s still got butterflies in his stomach from earlier.
They often hang out in complete silence, but it’s comfortable silence. Like when they wake up together on the weekends, and the day is still new. Their words would only ruin the atmosphere created by the dim light of the morning, so they let the sound of soft breathing speak for them. Right now is not like that.
“I can lea-” Kirishima starts, but quickly stops, seeing the fire glint in his boyfriend’s eyes. “Ok then, you’re gonna have to talk to me, or else I’m gonna go.”
“The fuck I do.” Bakugo huffs out, still steadily rocking in his chair. His eyes drift back closed, trying his best to come off aloof.
Unfortunately, Kirishima can read Bakugo like a book. One that is well worn, pages dogeared with his favorite parts. His notes are in the margin, messy, detailing each new discovery from scouring the text. _Something is bothering him,_ Kirishima ponders, _maybe I can coax it out_.
“ _Well_ ,” Kirishima says bouncing his shoulders off of the door to lean forward, rocking onto the balls of his feet, “then you _definitely_ aren’t getting what I came in here to give you.” He lets out an exaggerated sigh to accent his point, knowing exactly how to bait Bakugo.
“I don’t care what you have, I’m not obligated to talk to you.” Bakugo says, attempting to emulate a bored tone, but Kirishima catches his underlying curiosity.
_Got him_ , Kirishima thinks, smiling at the boy rocking in front of him. Bakugo’s eyes are clenched shut, knowing that if he even looks at Kirishima right now, he’ll fold in a heartbeat.
“Pft.” Kirishima scoffs, and Bakugo hears the turn of the door handle. _He called my bluff._
Something in him jerks, and he lifts up, in an attempt to catch his boyfriend from leaving. Unfortunately, he jerks up much too quickly, and the back legs of the chair slide forward, leaving Bakugo to fall backwards to the floor. The chair hits the ground, and with it a flailing Bakugo.
“Fuck!” Bakugo cries out as he hits the ground, his hands still in the air grasping for something for him to grab.
His eyes are still shut, but now it’s out of a combination of annoyance, and a little bit of pain. He opens them slowly, and his vision is a hazy. _The fuck._
Bakugo blinks a few times and realizes that Kirishima is standing over him. Kirishima’s normally bright face is twisted with worry for the second time in the last ten minutes. _Damn it._ His face flushes red, and in a thoughtless move, he slams a hand on his face in an attempt to hide himself. _Shit._
“Stop moving, _you idiot._ ” Kirishima says through a smile, his voice soft, trying to console Bakugo. Kirishima picks the hand up from Bakugo’s face, and smiles at his red faced boyfriend.
_He doesn’t let his guard down like this often_ , Kirishima thinks and holds his hand out to help Bakugo up. |
852a15b923ba4b8c8332ef3d061ea871 | ['87c9b800293247dab93def193f63a2ec'] |
1. Look, there's the boogeyman outside!
**Author's Note:**
> This chapter is based in the Halloween movie franchise verse.
>
> Featured ship(s): Johnny x Jaehyun
Featured character(s): Johnny, Jaehyun and Chenle
Trigger Warning(s): Knives, stalkers
Johnny smiles as he watches an eleven year old Chenle struggle to carry the large pumpkin to the dining table. "Need help, bud?"
"No, I got it!" He insists, taking his time before sitting it down. "See?"
"I do. Good job," he chuckles and sets out the lod safe carving tools before putting his own pumpkin on the table. "How about I put on a movie while we carve?"
"Can we watch Hotel Transylvania?" Chenle asks, drawing on his pumpkin already.
“Sure, kiddo,” he walks to the tv and finds the dvd, popping it in and hitting play before returning to the table to draw on his pumpkin. He finishes the face and lays out paper towels for him and Chenle before carving off the top of the pumpkins and handing his charge a scoop. “Get out all the goopy guts,” he chuckles and goes to dig out his own before he looks out the window for a second, something catching his eye.
He pats Chenle’s head and walks over to the window, stomach sinking as he sees a man in a blue jumpsuit and white mask with matted hair standing outside. He’s staring directly at the window and holding what appears to be a kitchen knife. Keeping an eye on him, he grabs his phone from his pocket and dials his boyfriend’s number.
“Hello?” Jaehyun picks up.
“Hey...are you busy?” Johnny asks, eyeing the man.
“Not particularly. Why?”
“Can you come over to the Zhong’s? There’s some guy standing outside and…” He trails off.
“Aw, are you scared, Bear?”
“No. I just don’t want Chenle to get scared. He might feel better with two guys here.”
“You can just admit you’re scared.”
“...If I do, will you come over?” Johnny asks softly.
“Babe, I’m already in the car and am about to be on my way.” Jaehyun chuckles on the other end.
“Thank you. Call me when you get here, okay?”
“Sure,” Jaehyun chuckles and hangs up.
Johnny swallows thickly and quickly goes through the house, relocking every door and window, then coming back to see the man still standing there. He was on the side of the neighbour’s house, behind the hedges, staring up at the kitchen window and Johnny was beyond uncomfortable.
He sits with Chenle again, “What’s wrong?” The boy asks, slowly carving a triangular eye out of the squash in front of him.
“Nothing. Jaehyun’s coming over.” Johnny smiles tightly.
“Um...Are mom and dad okay with that?”
“Oh! You’re right!” Johnny groans and quickly pulls his phone out to call Chenle’s mother, “Hey, it’s Johnny. Um, do you think my boyfriend could come over? I’m a little spooked about Halloween…”
“...Well, alright. But, no funny business, okay?” She chuckles a bit.
“I promise! Thank you!” He hangs up, “Thanks, kid.” He laughs.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Chenle laughs. “You’re scared of Halloween?”
“...A bit,” Johnny admits with a shrug. “I don’t like all the scary stuff like gore and monsters.”
“That’s the best part!”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah! It’s not Halloween without it!”
The two get into a long debate over it and Johnny misses his phone ringing five times and nearly jumps out of his skin when someone bangs on the door, Chenle letting out a yelp. “Get behind me,” Johnny instructs and starts walking over, peering out the window carefully to see no one. He swallows thickly and chances a look out the other window, the man still there. Then, who…?
He turns back and screams as a face pops up, then groans as he realizes who it belongs to. He opens the door and pulls his boyfriend inside before shutting and locking it again. “Don’t do that!” He whacks his arm, pouting.
“You didn’t answer! I got nervous.” Jaehyun frowns.
“Oh...I guess I didn’t hear...Sorry,” he kisses his cheek.
“Ick!” Chenle huffs and tugs Jaehyun’s hand, “C’mon! Come look at my cool Jack-O-Lantern!”
Jaehyun chuckles and follows, “Oh, that’s totally awesome! Can I help you?”
“You can help John! He hasn’t even gotten his gutted yet!”
“He hasn’t?! What a slacker!” He laughs, teasing Johnny as he grabs the scoop and rolls up his sleeve, digging out the seeds and innards.
Johnny laughs and watches fondly before he gets a shiver up his spine and turns around to the window again, whimpering a bit as the figure is still there. “Uh, Jae, can I talk to you?”
Jaehyun nods and wipes his hands on a dishtowel as he walks over, “What’s up?”
“Look,” he points. “That’s what I was talking about.” He sighs, “Isn’t the creepy?”
“Oh...yeah,” he frowns and pulls out his phone. “I’m gonna call 911.” He shakes his head.
“Really?” Johnny bites his lip.
“Yeah. Better safe than sorry, right?”
“Right,” Johnny nods, watching the figure as Jaehyun calls, making the report.
“...Yeah, he’s just standing there. My boyfriend noticed him about thirty minutes ago...Thank you.” He hangs up. “They’re sending an officer out.”
“Thank you, Jaehyun.” he hugs him around the waist, turning away from the window to watch Chenle carve his pumpkin.
“He’s a cute kid.”
“Yeah, I know. I always enjoy babysitting him. He’s sweet,” he hums and nods at his pumpkin, “Wanna help me out, tough guy?”
Jaehyun laughs and puffs his chest out, walking over, “Let’s carve this guy!”
Johnny tells him where to cut and soon enough they’re done, even with Jaehyun wiping pumpkin guts on Johnny’s cheeks whenever he gets the chance. But the distraction doesn’t stop either of them from startling when someone knocks. “Cops,” Johnny looks to Jaehyun and gets off his lap so he can answer the door.
“I got it,” Jaehyun says, going and answering the door, “Hello, officer.” | 8517e1c642eb4d9cbe68b96e1368d4f2 | ['87c9b800293247dab93def193f63a2ec'] | “I guess that’s true,” Taeyong hums and takes another drag before he kisses his boyfriend, breathing the smoke into his mouth. Johnny wraps his arms around him tight and licks carefully into mouth, blowing the smoke out of his nose. Taeyong hums and wraps his arms around him, joint still in his fingers as they make out. His ears perk when a twig snaps in the distance and he pulls away from him, “Hey, did you hear that?”
11. It's Alive!
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This chapter is based in the Frankenstein verse.
>
> Featured ship(s): Johnny x Taeyong
Featured character(s): Johnny, Taeyong, Mark, Haechan
Trigger Warning(s): None
“Okay, be good, I’ll be back soon. Text me if there’s anything you guys want at the store, okay?” Taeyong kisses his brothers’ heads.
“Okay!” Mark nods.
“We will,” Haechan smiles.
Mark relaxes into the couch cushions with his little brother and turns on the TV to the horror channel, watching some old black and white. “Do you think he’ll not wanna go trick or treating with us this year, Chan?”
“I think he’ll still go. Dad might make him,” Haechan looks over.
“But I’m ten! I’m not supposed to go trick or treating anymore.”
“Who says?” Haechan pouts, “I think trick or treating should last until you’re old and mean, like a witch!”
Mark laughs, “Right?! Hopefully Taeyong thinks so too. I don’t wanna go by ourselves.”
“Dad won’t let him out of it, anyway. He’s a worry wart.”
“That’s true.” Mark laughs and goes into the kitchen to make some popcorn, rummaging around for other snacks for them. “Haechan! Come help me carry!”
Haechan runs in, then frowns as he hears a thump coming from the basement, “Did you hear that, Mark?”
“It’s an old house.” Mark shrugs, but he feels his stomach twist. He hands Haechan some of the snacks and walks them back to the couch, frowning at the basement door as he hears some weird noise like a groan. He sits with his brother and turns up the movie, eating some of the popcorn.
Haechan curls closer to his older brother, eating the M&M’s they had found, flinching at the slight jump scares and loud noises in the movie. “Do you think someone could get in the house?”
“No! We would have heard it,” Mark shakes his head, hugging him close. “Just eat and relax. Taeyong will be home soon.”
“Right,” Haechan nods and cuddles closer, eating nervously before he heard a thump again and a groan. “M-Mark…”
“It’s okay. I promise. Nothing’s there.”
“A-are you sure?” Haechan whimpers and shakes slightly.
“Of course.” Mark hugs him tight.
It’s quiet for awhile and the brothers start to settle, watching another movie, a slightly less scary one and they calm down. Haechan has finished the small amount of candy left and went upstairs to change into pajamas.
Mark cleans up their trash and heads upstairs to change as well, since Taeyong had left later in the afternoon and their bedtime would be soon. He smirks at Haechan, “Let’s not brush our teeth and eat more junk food! Mom and dad left Taeyong to watch us and he’s not here!”
Haechan gasps and nods, giggling evilly, following his brother downstairs and to the kitchen to make some pizza roll before plopping on the couch with some more sodas. Haechan eats his fast and starts to get hyper, so Mark gets out the craft stuff and they start to make Halloween decorations and drawings together.
Haechan proudly holds up a bat chain he made and beams, “Look! They’re little vampire bats, Mark!”
“Those are so cool, Chan!” Mark grins, holding his drawing up, “Look at my boogeyman!”
Haechan whimpers, “Why would you draw that? That’s creepy!”
“Because if you draw him, he can’t get you!”
“Really?” Haechan asks, wide eyed.
“Yeah!” Mark nods, “You try it, too!”
Haechan carefully sets to work, drawing the monster from his usual nightmares and holds it up to him, “Like that?”
“Yeah! And now, he can’t get you because you weren’t too afraid of him to draw him!”
Haechan beams and hugs him, “Thanks, Mark!”
Mark grins and helps him make tissue paper ghosts and paper plate spiders before he hears thumping in the basement again. His heart races and he tries to focus on drawing and on the Scooby-Doo special on the television, but soon it grows louder and closer and the groaning start up again.
Mark shakes and turns up the TV, hoping Haechan wouldn’t notice as they draw and glue and cut. He lets out a sigh of relief when it stops again and since Haechan didn’t seem to notice, he figures he was just making himself scared. He glances at the door and then back to the table, sure he was just psyching himself out over nothing. They’d watched a lot of scary movies and ate a lot of sugar, so his brain was playing tricks on him. That was all.
Just like when Taeyong had let him stay up and watch Nightmare On Elm Street and Mark wouldn’t go to bed out of fear that Freddy would come to get him in his sleep. He left all the lights on and refused to even take a bath for two weeks until Taeyong showed him how the make up and stuff was done and that is was all fake.
Yeah. It had to be just like that. He cuddles closer to Haechan and eats some of the popcorn from earlier, watching the movie now to get his mind off the basement for a while. He edns up getting lost in the Scooby-Doo scenes that when the thumping starts up again, he just chalks it up to his brain making fear from nothing. He doesn’t notice Haechan tense up visibly and start scribbling more drawings of the boogeyman. |
8a9f425c01f445788af4e0e992d7f5fc | ['87e152d945e04d9aa3cee0b960de4d12'] |
Your heart made of golden dust
**Author's Note:**
> Happy birthday to Kim Taehyung, the one who shines the brightest in the whole world on this day ! I don't usually create something for the members' birthday but Taehyung is special. He's the one who caught my attention with his smartness, cleverness and kindness. He's the one who amazed me first with his beautiful soul and his boxy smile, and even if i love them all so much, Taehyung still very special in my heart. Please, give him a lot of love.
> SO.
>
> It's not beta-read, i'm really sorry.
> Also, i refer to Tata as ''it'' because it's a non binary bt21 character.
> And to close the notes, i want to say sorry for all the time i take to update Stay Awake, i'm just not in a mood for that as a lot of stuff happened. BUT i'm working on a bigger story to spend my nerves on it and if you follow me on twitter, maybe you know more about it. Here my account > LINK
The street is empty of any soul and melody, the cold wind snickers at his ears and the snow tints his cheeks with a pink blush. White flakes adorn his scarf and beanie like sparkling dust fell from heaven, but his thick winter coat keeps him warm and safe against the blow of the freezing weather. It’s an unexpected snowstorm, however barely a real blizzard from what Taehyung has seen before through the TV news.
Every step forward in the night leaves a print into the mellow snow covering the sidewalk; the squishy sound is funny, the pattern is slightly wavy and this winter’s gift makes Taehyung think of his lovely Tata with its cute noises and its long, curvy arms. As if his little heart-shaped soul has understood his thought (it has probably felt it like a wave of warmth and a breath of love tickling its body), Taehyung feels his daemon’s embrace tightening at his chest. Its arms and legs expand a little bit more, curling around Taehyung’s waist, and Tata rubs its face in his belly with a low, high purr that sounds like a baby electronic cat.
''We’re almost there. Are you okay?'' Taehyung pats gently at his coat and feels his daemon’s body against him, hears a computery-birdy chirp as answer. A small smile colors tenderly his lips as he pats again to comfort Tata a little bit more; he can feel the happiness from it buzzing through their bodies, but also the small tug of worry at his heart. However, he doesn’t know if the curbed pain is coming from himself or from Tata. He guesses it doesn’t really make a difference as his daemon is a part of himself too.
_ Happy birthday to you, _ he thinks with a sigh he tries to restrain.
Taehyung is never the one who expects something special for his birthday, never the one who asks for something out of the ordinary, never the one who lowkey suggests gifts and activities. Every year, for that day, Taehyung just wishes to have warmth, smiles, hugs and sweet words all for him. Everyone knows that he only wants to be surround by the persons he loves the most. He’s being egoist somehow, but Taehyung allows his heart to crave happiness, to drown in affection, just for that day.
The thing is that the other members, all of them, have been especially busy today. After their dance practice, he has not wanted to bother them with his stupid, selfish wish as everyone have seemed to leave for personal reasons; Taehyung has just kept himself occupied and at some point, he has left their vast apartment to take a walk outside. To find peace in the winterscape. To taste happiness alone with himself, with Tata.
Now that the weather has become coldly angrier, that the icy wind insists to push his frame, that the snowflakes make his sight blurry and that his eyelashes are cover by frost, Taehyung is relieved to see the big apartment complex. By instinct, he wraps his arms around his own body to hug fondly his shivering daemon like a wordless comfort to say _ it’s okay, we’re finally at home _ and Tata understands (of course Taehyung’s pure soul does) as it tickles gently its human’s small love handles.
The last meters to the building’s secured doors seem endless, but when Taehyung passes the entry and drowns into the warmth of the elevator, forgetting the cold storm outside is so easy; he would never regret his escapade in the winter wonderland. As the elevator starts to move up, Taehyung ears the happy electronic twitter noises of his daemon, feels the joy of his little, hearty soul vibrating in his stomach and blooming within him. He chuckles at Tata’s joyful behavior and unzips his coat to look tenderly at his colorful soul as he feels its arms and legs slide back to their original length.
Tata’s hands grip firmly at his shirt, little fists drawing down the fabric until it reaches Taehyung’s head, and the daemon throws away his beanie to claim its place on his broad shoulders. It makes itself comfortable around his neck, its red heart-shaped head barely higher than Taehyung’s, and seems to take the duty of warming him with its arms and legs around him. Tata keeps chirping like a songbird (a songbird singing a soft edm melody) and buries its face in Taehyung’s fluffy hair. | 3257ee2d23aa44c3b77c70419d2fed7a | ['87e152d945e04d9aa3cee0b960de4d12'] | ''You’re so tight, baby.'' Seokjin’s voice was a love song to Jimin, a whole melody he tried to decipher in looking at his boyfriend’s lips moving, curling and pouting as words flew out of his mouth like snowflakes falling down from the dense, white clouds. Jimin let out a heavy breath, feeling filled and full as he swayed like a smooth wave on his man. Light-headed, he let his arms fall back and was quite fast to steady himself with his hands on Seokjin’s abs. He pushed himself up slowly, small eyes locked with Seokjin’s and lower back pierced by a sweet pain. A sharp burn rushed in his groin, but Jimin did little to chase it away as it turned quickly into a plain sensation of pleasure.
''You feel so good, all open for me.'' Jimin almost mewled at the praise, all focused on how perfectly Seokjin was filling him with his long and thick cock, how easily he was swallowing the sex with a muffled squishy sound. It definitely felt good. So _good_ that Jimin knew he could not get enough. In the warmth of a breath, he went more thirsty and greedy, and his pace became as fast as his heart beating heavily in his thorax just like it wants to get out of this cage.
''Hyung, please.'' His plea was high, blowing Seokjin in the stomach, and the man did not hesitate to give what Jimin desired as nails scratched his belly, cramped with the effort it took to seat himself. Jimin was loud on top of him, moving like a damned man in need of love and lust, in need of _him_. He felt Seokjin slip a hand behind his lower back, maybe to steady him or just to mark his skin as his fingers sank deep in the flesh, Jimin could not care much. He always thought that hiding their relationship was pretty useless and tiring.
''Ah, you’re so fucking beautiful, Jimin.'' Seokjin breathed in him, nuzzling in the curve of his neck. He licked the hot, salty skin in a messy path that lead to Jimin’s mouth and he dared to steal one of his breaths like it was the last one. ''You fuck me so good, baby. Do you think you can cum untouched?''
He played with Jimin’s lips, whispering on them and brushing his teeth against their pulp. Jimin answered with an excited, high-pitched sound that made Seokjin groan in contentment and shift their sweet moment of lust into something chaotic and uncontrollable, but _oh! so delicious_. With his large hands on Jimin’s hips, he helped him to go faster, to go deeper and harder. He stormed Jimin with his mouth and kissed the life out of him with their tongues swirling and lips sucking as if there was no tomorrow. As if there was no consequence.
''I love you.'' Seokjin moaned against Jimin’s ear and he thought that no song was more beautiful than the heavy sigh of pleasure made by his beloved straddling him. ''Yeah, I love you so much. Come for me.'' Seokjin settled himself a little bit further on the mattress and brought with him Jimin who leaned himself back, trusting Seokjin ‘til the end, body pliant in a curve that only a professional dancer could draw perfectly with his spine. With the new angle, Seokjin was the one who could lead the sensual choreography and the next thrust he gave into Jimin made the later cry out in strident guilty pleasure. Seokjin knew he had hit the right bundle of nerves and finding it again was not difficult for him.
''I got you, baby. Come for hyung.'' Seokjin had a wonderful view of Jimin’s upper body and of his throat, stretched back. He saw Jimin swallowing down a sob and he could not stop himself to endlessly hit the same spot, his mind controlled and lead by Jimin’s high, effervescent reactions. Everything was hot open-mouthed kisses, pitched whines echoing into the room and skin slapping against skin with a smooth cacophony of wet sounds.
''Hyung.'' Jimin choked on his own weak voice as he bounced against Seokjin. He could feel the sweet poison of jouissance paralyzing his mind, flowing like a high tide inside of him and rushing through his body until it crashed like a storm in his inner thighs. He came with a high and cut off whine, his hole clenching hard around Seokjin’s cock that filled him with cum through his own orgasm, his body shaking with how hard it spilled pure pleasure between his and Seokjin’s belly. White, thick slides of sperm painted their skin adorned with marks and saliva, and Seokjin’s eyes were all over Jimin to never miss how wonderful and stunning he looked when he reached the point of no return, jaw slack and pearl of tears prickling the corners of his pretty, wild eyes.
''Ah, fuck- hyung!'' Jimin jolted as Seokjin took a nipple in his mouth and sucked gently on it. Jimin was oversensitive, the older knew it, but it looked like he could not stop teasing him. Jimin giggled hoarsely and straightened his body assaulted by shivers when Seokjin kitty-licked the pointed nipple. ''You’re so annoying.'' He pecked a kiss lazyly on Seokjin’s lips, half exhausted and half excited after this long ride of sex in the morning. He got down off of Seokjin in a deep, sharp breath as he felt the perfectly hardened cock slipping out of him. Drained of all energy, Jimin laid down on his back beside his boyfriend, a content and satisfied expression coloring his cheeks in all shades of pink. He closed his eyes, looking as pretty and blooming as ever in the middle of the messy field of white and yellow sheets, sinking in the now not-so sweet scent of vanilla, citrus, sweat and sex.
''You knew those panties were my favorite, right?'' Seokjin and Jimin smiled maliciously in sync and the older could not stop himself as he pulled one of the straps. He let it snap on Jimin’s sore skin and his adorable wiping laugh covered Jimin’s complain. ‘’I come back quickly. Don’t fall asleep, little bear.’’ Jimin hummed in response and Seokjin got up of his bed with a wince; the last position had been quite hard on his body.
Quickly, he found the anal plug on the floor and picked it up before he headed to the bathroom. He washed the toy carefully before he took a washcloth to clean himself, than he took another warm and soft one to clean up his boyfriend. But when Seokjin came back to his room, all that he found was Jimin softly snoring, tangled in the sheets and blanket, with cheeks flushed and pouty lips. He looked so full of happiness and so peaceful that Seokjin did not have the heart to wake him up.
Quietly, he put down the washcloth on the nightstand and took a new pair of underwear. He took some steps back to the cushioned chair, but the blinding winter scenery through the huge window kept him there, immobile. Slowly, Seokjin felt worry and concern bubbling inside of him like a bottle of champagne fizzing dangerously. He wanted to look back at Jimin, to make sure that his lover was fine, to take care of him as the chances were so rare, but he stayed stuck at the window with a mist of anxiety filling his mind.
With mixed emotions tearing him apart, Seokjin eyed with a small smile the red rivers of scratches on his skin and finally set himself on the chair. He tend his arm on the side to take his guitar, ready to play a little more. But this time, Seokjin felt like composing a song; a ballad about a man with golden skin, hazel eyes shining beneath the sunshine and pouty lips of the color of roses; a melody about a man wearing coral strappy panties made of silk and adorned by a dress of diamonds all over his curves; about a man wearing the softest top with long sleeves, made of cashmere. |
22bcaa806bd548308877cca96a7e81d9 | ['87fde9717ee64c91b89f8ad55b0b8220'] |
Divine Upper Reaches
**Author's Note:**
> Heyo, I'm back again with these two. They make for a beautiful dynamic, that's for sure. Well... as beautiful as any old bruise. Anyway, it's just a bit of sensory play, as usual. It's a bit more explicit than the last one. I got adventurous, but I figured that wouldn't be a problem. It was written to a couple different songs, most notably Mysterons by Portishead. As usual, the work is titled after the song that inspired it.
It's the first time he's tried this completely sober, the very first time he's dared. But he wants Motochika. He wants him oh, so badly. However, that's a secret he'll take with him to the grave and beyond. This time, he's going to test boundaries, and cross their breadth. He wants that pirate to whimper and writhe and he wants to see it in his eyes. He wants to feel the frustration and desire bolting off of Motochika in rolling, churning waves, and he wants to drown in it before he can let it consume him. And he wants his mind to be crystal clear so he can savor every last drop, every last breath, every last sound.
He starts by tying limbs with cruel tightness, a vicious, biting grip to hold back the tempest he knows he can reliably predict-- after all, they have played this game more than couple times before, and each time, they only seem to grow more passionate. They're almost like adventurers becoming more confident to roam their chosen lands, the more of it they explore. But not this time. Motonari won't let any more of himself be revealed. His leaves won't fall, his flowers won't bloom, his mountains won't erupt. There will be no storm until he has completely charted Motochika's every twist and turn.
He starts by tying limbs. Motochika insists it won't do any good. Motonari knows better. The ropes are more a mental barrier he knows will be harder to surmount if he can play this just right until the very end.
"You are not to say a word," he purrs in a tone completely contrary to his mostly blank facial features, checking the ties again for the last time. He makes sure to brush against sensitive areas and lets his breath skim across already anticipating flesh.
"I'll talk if I wanna talk," comes the reply. And truth be told, there would have been more words of defiance, if the pirate didn't have a mouthful of interrupting authority. Because Motonari will not be making negotiations, and if he has to make it impossible for Motochika to speak, he will. He's almost surprised he's been allowed to employ ropes and restraints. But he bets Motochika is curious-- and why shouldn't he be? Because after Motonari has surrendered control of these situations every time, he demands the right to regain a sense of pride, some semblance of control and superiority. Of course, they both know he'll let Motochika do as he pleases, once he has had his own fun-- he loves it, after all. He loves to surrender himself, at least in this, and let the other man's will wash over him fiercely. He loves watching the pirate fight a desperate battle with asphyxiating need and the desire to keep Motonari comfortable, to keep him wanting more.
But really, he doesn't need such sweet gestures. The heartbreakingly gentle way the pirate touches him after they've expended themselves, as if he is fragile and worn from such activities, is sickening, though he can't say he doesn't appreciate or like it. They are more than that, though. There's something terribly alluring about how rough Motochika becomes in his desire. But that isn't satisfactory. Motonari craves something a little more exact, more exquisite, more sharp. And he plans to show this man exactly what he wants.
Their lips remain attracted together, the heat already growing static between them. Mouri takes the pirate's bottom lip between his teeth, rolling it gently even as he slicks his tongue across the softly bulging flesh. He seats himself right on Motochika's leg, dragging sharpened fingernails down his newly appointed furniture's torso. He's careful not to do it too roughly just yet, but he doesn't spare much pressure-- until he suddenly lets up and trails his fingers like gossamer, hardly at all. The amount of force he applies varies, switching between an almost cruel, forceful scraping to sweet caresses. He has to be careful to be slow, practical, creative, but that's no issue at all. He continues to draw biting red marks into Motochika's chest, forcing aggressive kisses because he so loves the taste, but he swears he won't always begin in this way.
He just wants to keep the brute's obnoxious mouth shut for a while.
Slowly, slowly, he eases his lips away, bringing them to Motochika's ear. His hands cease dragging lightly or harshly or at all, and begin to massage the other's chest instead. And he whispers in a dark, breathy tone, "Not a _word,_ Chōsokabe. Show me you can handle it, hm?" The word is accented with a firm pressing near the pirate's groin and a sweet, thoughtful kiss to the cheek. He isn't the best with words not meant for destruction or deceit, but as he stands up and takes a couple steps away, the look on his face is beautiful and terrifying. | f5719ceb2b5f4265a45bda1c1afb6390 | ['87fde9717ee64c91b89f8ad55b0b8220'] | Soma
_❝Hey…❞_
There’s somebody I used to know. Somebody I cherished more than even my own life. This somebody was.. a part of me, you could say. The part of me that broke into pieces and made me stronger each time I should have been shattered. Even now, I’m being strengthened by him, augmented by him. There’s shards of him still floating around inside me, and every so often, I feel like I can just reach in, deeper and deeper, and maybe he’ll be there.
_❝Isn’t it cold?❞_
He was strong. He was really strong. He taught me a lot, but no matter what, I think he was always stronger than me. Always will be. He was braver than me, but we shared the same sense of justice. He always had something on his mind, but he usually didn’t mind sharing. We were close– I guess when our souls touched, there was always that lingering feeling, as though it was flesh that brushed against flesh. When we spoke, it echoed in our minds like true spoken words. We left deep marks on each other, I think– not the bad kind. It wasn’t like a cut or a bruise… more like the way your skin gets lighter when you press on it for a moment.
It’s just that those marks lasted so much longer than we did…
_❝You shouldn’t look so sad.❞_
It was silly of me to get comfortable having him around, but I don’t regret it. He was the best frend I ever had. After all, he made my wish came true. Without him, I wouldn’t have had friends at all. It was hard at first. I really couldn’t let go. And even now, it’s hard to sleep at night. At times like this, we always used to talk. Then I felt better, or at least enough that I could relax and fall asleep. But now? It’s just… well, I’m thinking about him more than usual. I don’t want to forget him. If nothing else, it’s the memory of him that I can talk to tonight.
_❝Hey,❞_ I repeat softly, reaching ,my hand to the moon. He was always a sunset, burning but dark– maybe in loneliness he was a pale reflection. I suppose I can’t remember, after all. _❝You’re always welcome to come back home..❞_
**Author's Note:**
> A little thing I wrote some months back, when I was first watching through the Yugioh series. I hadn't finished it, but I'd just had the ending spoiled for me. So this was my take on the ending I hadn't yet seen. I feel that I could do a better job now, if I were to write it again. |
cfa7c02c6fbe460aa0ed098656549e29 | ['88260044f541476ea02d177084bda157'] | You stare at him, eyes wide, and he swoops in and gently kisses you. You let out a little gasp and he takes that as a chance to enter your mouth- and he's the only one kissing.
At least, until you join him.
He grabs your waist, fingers digging into the sensitive skin as he pulls you towards him, and lets out a small moan as you flick his upper lip with your tongue.
'Take me,' you whisper. 'Here. Now.'
'It's in public, (Y/N).'
'No one's here, damn you. It's midnight. No one _comes_ to Han River at midnight, because even at summer it's so fricking-ass cold. So take me. Now.'
He willingly obliges, his other hand that's not pinning you to him makes its way inside your garments, his kisses turning hungry, desperate, needy. His mouth drops from your mouth to the crook of your neck and he brands you with his mark. You'll need makeup there tomorrow- there'll probably be a hickey.
You scrabble for the zipper of his jeans and pull it down, along with his underwear.
His fingers, long enough to tease, hook your underwear and pull it down. You gasp as his fingers ghost over you, and he doesn't deal with finger playing or any of that crap.
He just pulls you closer and pushes himself straight in.
You groan as he pushes himself deep inside of you, then out again, quick, but pleasurable. You wrap your legs around him and he bucks his hips, pushing in deeper.
'Min-Minho...' you moan his name and he speaks into your ear, his voice a bare whisper.
'Good. Say it again.'
'Minho...'
'Louder.'
'M...Minho!' You moan louder, much louder, and releases, your orgasm shaking your entire body and making you tired. So, so, tired.
Minho comes shortly after. You tidy up, and curl up on the bench next to him, his arms protecting you from the cold.
4. Chapter 4
You chew the end of your pen thoughtfully and rub your eyes. It's 12 P.M., but you still have to finish the last verse of your song for the semi-finals. Your phone suddenly rings and you don't need to see the contacts list to know it's Jiho- he's the only one that knows you would still be up this late, knowing you, and Minho, the only other person that would know, wouldn't be calling so soon after that _particular_ incident.
'Hello?'
A smooth voice answers, 'What are you doing up this late?'
You were wrong.
After all, it's none other than _Song Minho._
'Trying to finish my song.' you rubbed your forehead and sighed. 'First the dis battle, now this..... ugh. I'm trying my best, but it's so hard. What about you?'
'I've already created the BGM. I'm writing the lyrics right now.' there's a thoughtful silence, then Minho suggests, 'Maybe just do _Eraser (지우개)_ again?'
'No, I can't. They said unreleased songs. I wish, though. I've already done that song a million times after Unpretty Rapstar, I could rap any part of it in any order. What's your song called?'
'Fear.'
'You know, oppa, when you say that I somehow think of ancient Greek demons that feed off your fear. I think I watched too many of those movies.'
A small chuckle is audible from the other side. 'I was just asking if you wanted to watch those movies together after this round is done? Just chillax and stuff before the next round?'
'Sure.' an idea pops into your head. 'Hey, oppa, can I listen to your song?'
Uncomfortable shifting on the other side.'You are another contestant after all, I'm not sure that's even allowed-'
'We're not even going against each other! I'm pitted against Innovator and Basick.... and I can just say I'm a big fan, after all I did love Moneyflow, please?'
Sigh. 'When do you want to hear it?'
'Is right now okay?' you pipe up.
* * *
He ushers the rest of rest of the members into bed after they woke up.
'Is it true?' Jinwoo barks with laughter.
Seungyoon doubles over, giggling. 'Yeah! He's inviting his _girlfriend_ over!'
'For work purposes!' He complains, but none of them seem to listen.
'What work? Something _private?'_ Seunghoon winks. 'Very private, right?'
'Shut up!' he says halfheartedly. If there's one bad thing about his team members, it's that they just don't shut up.
Taehyun steps back, admiring Minho, then shakes his head. 'You can't go out like that.'
'Why not?' he frowns. 'It's my favourite shirt!'
'Um.... it's _pink. Stripy,_ too.'
The doorbell rings, and Taehyun starts singing 'Confession'.
'Please shut up, the five of you...' Minho rubs his face (devoid of makeup) and starts towards the door, but Jinwoo was already there. The lock clicks and opens, and (Y/N) came in. The first time seeing each other face-to-face after.... the thing.
She doesn't have any makeup on, and is dressed in a long T-shirt with _KIM_ _TAEHYUNG_ written on it, reaching down to mid-thigh, her shorts covered by it. Her hair is loosely pulled back into a bun.
'Hello. Why is everybody up? I thought it was twelve thirty in the night.'
'It is.' Seungyoon answers. Him and the others keep staring.
'Shouldn't you be asleep or anything? Oh, Minho-oppa, I like your shirt.'
_'Oppa.'_ Seunghoon whispers.
'You like his _shirt?'_ Taehyun's mouth drops. 'No one likes his shirt.'
'Well, I think it looks good on him.' she raises her eyebrow. 'Oy, don't stare at me!'
They all turn away. Jinwoo murmurs, 'Who's Taehyung?'
She looks at him, surprised, then looks at her shirt and laughs. 'Oh. It's a friend of mine, he gave it to me about an year ago. I think he gave it to me because it was too big for him and he needed to get me a birthday present anyway.' Then she shifts on her feet and turns to Minho. 'Well? Are you going to show me or not?'
He nods. 'Sure.' | 6a872bcb6d7b48cc8b06c19a40b1d6e1 | ['88260044f541476ea02d177084bda157'] | But when he finishes, the transformation was over. He turned back into the sheepish little boy Jiho considers his brother, and glanced around, playfully. His eyes roamed over the crowd, hard and challenging at the strangers that look at him with loathing, and then he met your eyes. They softened momentarily, and the corner of your lips quirked up as you winked at him teasingly. He failed to contain his smile, and smiled back before whipping back to attention.
All in less then five seconds.
Jiho nodded appreciatively and took off his own pendant, draping it over him. A gesture of pride, congratulations, and elderly love.
As the older rapper left to deal with some others, you made your way over to Mino.
'Hey.' you greeted. He smiled happily and answered: 'Hey. You're (Y/N), right? I heard you rapping. You're really good.'
'You too.' you returned the compliment. 'Shouldn't we shake hands or something? You're _oppa,_ right? '93s?'
'Don't remind me of my age.' he groaned. 'And yeah, we should.' you nodded awkwardly and held out your hand. 'Hello, my name is (Y/N) Choi. Also known as the most boyish girl idol in the history of k-pop.' When he gave you a questioning look, you shrugged and said, 'I didn't get that nickname by myself. The very kind Shin Donghyuk there gave me that nickname.'
'I'm Mino. Huge boy Mino.' he made the swag sign and you snorted. 'Also known as Song Minho.'
'And Song Mojiri (idiot).' you said, and he sheepishly contained his smile. 'Aish... yeah, that too.'
'Jiho-hyung talks too much about you.' he says. 'All (Y/N) this and (Y/N) that. I think he likes you.'
'Oh, no.' you shook your head. 'Just because he talks about you a lot too doesn't mean he likes you.'
'He talks about me a lot?' he looked surprised. 'I thought he didn't. Actually, I reckoned he didn't.'
You stuck out your tongue playfully. 'That's Song Minho for you. Always thinking so lowly of friends.'
He pouted. 'Hey! I think highly of my friends, okay? In Winner I'm the best!'
'Oh really?' you grinned. 'Should I ask your friends?'
'You don't even have my contacts.' he crossed his arms.
You sighed. 'Right. I don't. See you later.... Minho.' And with a wink, you brushed past him. Pickpocketing his phone. He didn't notice.
'OY! STOP FLIRTING, YOU TWO!' Donghyuk yelled down.
Always. Count on Shin Donghyuk to spoil the mood.
2. Chapter 2
Minho tosses his keys on the table and walk towards the suite, exhausted. He takes a moment to see what the time is, his hand traveling towards his pants pocket where his phone usually us, and is surprised when he can't feel the familiar weight of the phone pressing down on his leg.
'Oh, god, where is it?' he mutters frantically. 'Please don't tell me some crazy fan stole it, please....'
'Yah! Song Min-ho!' Seunghoon shouts, 'You got a girlfriend and didn't tell us?!'
_'What?'_ he exclaims back. 'No! I don't have a girlfriend, why would you think that?'
'Then what's this?' Seunghoon thrusts his phone into Minho's face and he takes in gingerly, seeing the kakaotalk chat room of all the members of Winner. His phone tells them:
_Hey! Tell your boy Mino that if he wants his phone back come to the duk-bokki house tomorrow at 12 so we can get to know each other better!_
_By the way, I know what you're thinking. I'm not his girlfriend. I met him today._
_-(Y/N) Choi-_
_P.S. Stealing his phone was so easy.... he should really watch out for the occasional pickpocketing fan L(^_^)/ He really is a beggar when it comes to thinking~_
'What?' he remembers _now_ that she had brushed against him as she left, and that her hand had swept over his pants pocket. He remembers the phone's weight disappearing.
And he thinks, _Aish, I'm an idiot._
'When someone says she's not your girlfriend, she's your girlfriend!'
'You're _second youngest._ How did you manage to get a girlfriend before we did?' Before he knows it, all the members are crowded around Minho, looking at their phones and then at Minho in awe.
'Stop it! Guys, she's not my girlfriend, okay? She's just someone I met today, and she was kind of nice, I guess, and we're just.... kind of friends, okay?'
'Instant friends, ooh~!' Seungyoon wiggles his eyebrows and he slaps a hand to his forehead.
'I've had enough of this. I'm going to bed.'
'Maybe your girlfriend's hidden in his closet or something!' Jinwoo shouts out.
'Shut up.' he mutters, and retreats into his bedroom to go to bed. On second thought, he takes Jinwoo's phone from his grasp. 'I can use this, right? Thanks.'
He washes, changes his clothes and climbs into bed. He types sluggishly:
_Gimme my phone back...._
__(Y/N) instantly sends her reply:
_Come and get it, oppa~_
Sighing, he puts the phone on the bedside table.
As he drifts to sleep, he can hear (Y/N)'s playful tone, and she's close enough to touch with his fingers.
* * *
You scan the area, sunglasses on, and chew your korean rice cake thingy.
He's still not coming.
And he's five minutes late.
There's a small possibility that he won't come at all, and just meet you at the next episode of SMTM 4, but you just shrug it off. He wouldn't do that.
You just want to get to know him better.
And maybe... just _maybe_ you're starting to feel a teeny bit of attraction towards him. Just a bit.
But it's okay, because that would never happen, Song Minho and (Y/N) Choi. After all, your affection is just a little kindling of fire. Put out easily. Yesterday was the first time you even met!
_Unless.... you've heard of love at first sight, right?_
Urgh. Damn the thoughts to hell.
A shadow falls over you, and you see Minho standing over you, unmanly. Pouting.
'Are you pouting?' you crack a grin. |
8588961332174fdba0559aa4e0c4a551 | ['8827e046a7354a3ca565e6597ccdf794'] | Full Moon
**Author's Note:**
> This was written way back in 2000, during season three of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It's one of my earlier works of fan-fiction that has survived.
>
> This is set after Xander and Cordelia's break-up.
Xander glanced at his wrist watch, and yawned heavily. He had been watching Oz for what felt like hours. All he needed now was Giles giving a history lesson of demonology and he would be doing the one thing he shouldn't be.
Oz rattled the bars of the cage and Xander leapt to his feet.
“Will you quit that? Who do you think you are! Mavis the poltergeist?” Xander yelled at the werewolf. The werewolf growled lowly in response to him.
“Help.” Said Xander quietly to himself. “You owe me, Will.” Xander slumped back down into the chair, and held his face in his hands.
The werewolf began to growl softly under its breath. The growl turned into a snarl, and Xander leapt to his feet once again.
“Right, that does it! Bad wolf!” Xander pointed his finger at Oz. Oz shook at the chains again, and snarled at Xander.
“Please?”
“Begging I see Xander. What's next in your sad and unexciting life. Asking Angel for a blood transfusion?”
Xander turned his attention towards the commentator. Cordelia smiled wickedly at Xander. He hadn't even heard her come in.
“Cordelia! What are you doing here? Planning on asking wolfie here for grooming tips?”
Cordelia glared at Xander and approached him. She rose a hand up and promptly slapped him.
“Ouch! That actually hurt!”
“I hope that stings!” Said Cordelia glaring at him.
“What are you doing here?” Asked Xander rubbing his face.
“Giles told me to come check up on you. We don't need you falling asleep and letting Oz go walkabouts without his leash.”
“Hey, that was ages ago. And Oz didn't escape.” Xander defended himself, going back to when a student was doing the Jeckyll and Hyde routine, killing anyone who had to do with his girlfriend.
“Well we still don't know.” Retorted Cordelia. “We still don't know if Oz really did get out the window or not.”
”I...” Xander closed his mouth promptly. For once no comeback.
Cordelia smirked at the silence. She then shook her head and walked out of the library. Xander despite what was just said, sat on his chair and closed his eyes out of tiredness.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
A growl made Xander's eyes snap open. Oz had been growling all night, but this was different, it was closer.
He turned his head and screamed. Not a manly scream, a girlie scream.
“Oh God!” He cried out.
Oz was out of the cage. Xander began to breathe harder. Panic was rising inside him. Oz cocked his head and growled once more. His mouth opened showing his sharp teeth. Xander whimpered, and slowly started to back off.
Oz pounced onto Xander, and his teeth ripped into Xander's shoulder. Xander cried out in pain.
As the werewolf mauled him, Xander felt himself slipping away. But all he could do was think the same thing.
"I'm dying."
\- - - - - - - - - - - -
Xander's scream shot through the darkness. His eyes opened. He was still on his back, the mass weight of Oz was still upon him.
Oz growled. It was then that Xander realised that Oz was still in the cage.
Xander sat up, and realised that the chair that he had been sitting on was on its side. Xander had fallen off it when he had gone to sleep.
Oz hadnt really attacked, and mauled him. He was still in the cage. It had all been a dream.
Just in case Xander poked a finger at his shoulder. It was all in one piece no flesh ripped out.
\- - - - - - - - - - - -
Xander heard movement from the cage. He yawned, after waking up from the nightmare he had actually managed to stay awake for the rest of the night. Now it was sunrise.
Oz's features changed into his familiar self again. He yawned and opened his eyes. Reaching a hand up he rubbed the side of his face. He stood up and scratched his chest.
“Yikes!”
Oz glanced up and saw Xander. Xander's cheeks flamed up in embarrassment, he quickly turned and shuddered.
“Warn me, next time you're going to do that.” Xander, grabbed Oz's clothing Then without turning around gave them to Oz.
“Sorry. I figured you would've left by now.” Replied Oz as hee pulled on his underpants and jeans.
“Well, I didn't.” Xander turned around curiously. “Do you actually remember anything from when you're the wolf boy?”
“Nope. Never.”
“Has Willow seen you in the Full Monty sense?” Xander asked, then wished he hadn't.
“Does a lion's mouth hold secrets?” Said Oz. He reached into one of his jeans pockets, and pulled out the key that would unfasten his chains.
“Huh?” Xander frowned confused. “Forget I asked, and you replied.”
“Sure.” Said Oz with a nod.
“So, what are you doing this fine morning?” Asked Xander, his mind still fuzzy with lack of sleep.
“Band practice. Then I'm checking in with Giles about tonight.” Replied Oz. He buttoned his shirt up, and checked the pocket for his van keys. “You?”
“Don't know, might help Buffy and Giles or something.”
“No need for your beauty sleep then?” Asked Oz.
“Not really. I'm surprisingly wide awake for some reason.” | ac072711b23a434492ecf3bd34a5b83e | ['8827e046a7354a3ca565e6597ccdf794'] | “Probably not.” Came the answer anyway. Her eyes went upon him for a moment, then watched as he sat down next to her, placing his arm around her once more to draw her against him. To her it was an unusual close moment between them, but she could place that down to the fact that the first time since her original Hellions were murdered she had expressed herself emotionally.
“Thank you...” She murmured quietly, while placing her head upon his shoulder, closing her eyes for a moment.
Feeling a finger go underneath her chin, she felt him tilt her head up, making her reopen her eyes so she looked at him. She imagined that she didn't look all that wonderful, since her eyes felt red and puffy from crying. “You don't need to thank me.”
Looking up into what was generally hard features Emma couldn't help but feel completely vulnerable, a side that she didn't really want to show. She wanted to strengthen herself up so she could get back to her normal cold, and apparently heartless self. Logan just looked back at her, his expression unreadable, making her want to pry within his head, though she didn't give into the urge. Even if she had done Logan was a hard one to read.
Not sure what it was she was doing she shifted in a little and before she knew it her lips were settling lightly upon his. She felt him stiffen up a little, albeit briefly before feeling a mild pressure back. The kiss was a slow and gentle one, the pressure barely there. Her lips parted slightly, which was responded in kind.
Gradually the pressure increased, and their lips parted more. The pair of them being drawn to the other as eventually their tongues met, just about touching. She felt Logan's hand travel up and into her hair so he was holding onto the back of her head. Her own hand slid up and rested on the side of his neck, her thumb brushing against the stubble along his jawline.
Emma shifted herself further forward, adjusting her position until she was able to slide herself upon his lap. His other arm went around her waist, running along her bare back, causing a shudder to go through her. Even through the material of his jeans and her own clothing she could feel the impressive muscles of his thighs. She arched forward and pressed herself against his chest, increasing the pressure of the kiss once more.
He leaned his head back to give some easier access, a helpful move considering their height difference. Her hair spilled around his face, so the hand which was in her hair moved around to gather it up to pin it messily back behind her head. Out of instinct she found herself grinding against his lap, feeling the friction between the different materials of their outfits. His jeans against her spandex bottoms. Even such a simple action sent a warmth throughout her body. The motion was causing a stir within Logan as well, as apparent by the hardness growing beneath her.
Breaking the kiss Emma took in a long shaky breath and drew back just enough so she could look down at Logan. She could guess how she now appeared to him. Her cheeks felt warm, and she knew that her eyes were expressing her want, her need. His expression had mostly gone unchanged, other than the subtle look in his eyes that also expressed a desire. No words were needed between them at all.
She then pulled back just a bit further and pulled her hands away from him, and rose them up behind her back. With a slow movement she undid the clasp which kept her reverse 'x' bustier in place. It moved away as she brought her hands back, exposing her enhanced breasts. It was well known that she had work done, but her surgeon was the best available making it almost impossible to tell where any incisions had occurred. They incredibly could almost pass for being real.
Logan brought a hand up and cupped the side of one breast, seemingly to test how it truly felt. Then he leaned forward in order to bring his mouth down onto her nipple. She felt him suck gently upon it, his tongue probing and stroking, his teeth just about grazing it. He then swapped over to the other side. Emma half closed her eyes, sighing quietly, enjoying the sensation that he gave.
He drew back after a while, just to trail his mouth up and along her collar bone. His teeth just about grazed her flesh, as he shifted higher up to latch against the side of her throat. His hands travelled about her torso, his fingers brushing against her skin. They felt rough, but even so she enjoyed the sensation. The whole while her hips moved slowly upon his lap, the result making her start to feel warm within. She pressed herself downwards, feeling his ever growing bulge against her.
A small whimper escaped from her lips finally breaking the silence in the room, which had just previously been dominated by their heavy breathing. Logan responded to her whimper by emitting a low growl, she could virtually feel that rumble against her throat. He shifted once more, his hand going back into her hair. His mouth then went back onto hers, though his kiss was more demanding and dominating then before. She didn't try to stop him, and let him take the lead. |
bc3b9381b0044a5f98c5ec6d26ae02bf | ['885ec18bb7a546229941680207090156'] |
1. ItaSasu, last words
Itachi's born _covered_ in neat, precise handwriting, a thousand goodbyes curling from his neck to the soles of his feet. Largest, slashed across his chest - _'Why won't you die already?'_
Mikoto sees that, the only writing large enough to be legible on her son's infant body, and a lump forms in her throat.
Her baby boy isn't even hours old, and already she knows he'll be killed by his soulmate.
-
Where Itachi's words were worrying, Sasuke's are _baffling_.
He has two, clearly distinct phrases. She'd have thought he must have two soulmates - though what that says for Itachi's numerous scribbles she doesn't know - if they weren't in the exact same handwriting.
_'Forgive me, Sasuke, there won't be another time'_ and _'You don't have to forgive me, because no matter what you decide to do from now on, I will always love you.'_
Apparently her boys are doomed to interesting lives.
-
As Itachi grows, further words become apparent. _'Goodbye,'_ then _'I'm sorry for this, but I'll be back soon,_ ' then _'I love you'_ before _'You don't have to hold me every time I die,'_ all in the same neat handwriting.
It isn't any less worrying.
-
It's Shisui who next notices that some of Itachi's other goodbyes have finally become legible. He chokes when he sees his cousin's back, swallowing a laugh when Itachi turns to send him a questioning look.
"There's - there's more messages," Shisui says. "Your soulmate's words."
Itachi tilts his head and hums curiously. (He's already accepted he'll die by his soulmate's hand most likely. His only regret is that'll mean leaving Sasuke.)
"What do they say?" he asks. The multitude of messages is strange, especially since he doubts he has _that many_ soulmates.
"It's - the same handwriting as your first," Shisui begins. "There's three, all next to each other, but I'm pretty sure they're separate - 'Don't worry, it's not like I'm going to die' - wow, that's a depressing last words - then 'I promise I won't die this time' - then 'maybe I should stop promising not to die.'"
Itachi stares ahead, mulling that over. "Those are odd, certainly," he says at last.
Shisui shrugs, then laughs. "Maybe it's recording _every_ set of last words, and your soulmate has a kekkei genkai or technique or something for not staying dead."
Itachi nods, though he can't think of anything like that.
-
Itachi's eleven, and staring, exacerbated, at the message that just became legible, a paragraph crammed into the space between his belly button and hip bone. He's already grown used to the hundreds of variants on _'I love you'_ that spill across his skin, and had been figuring those were most of the rest of the messages. This, though, is just _weird_.
_'You know, this's a perfectly good way to send messages back to the past, we wouldn't even cause an origin paradox since I'd be able to read them off your skin - there's so much I could warn you about - yes I'm aware I have no respect for the space-time continuum, but what's the worst that could happen?'_
He apparently needs to study up on the theory behind space-time ninjutsu, if he's going to have to talk his soulmate out of _time travel_.
-
Sasuke realizes the meaning of his soulmarks pretty early. Well, at least the first one, around the second time Itachi pokes him in the forehead and says, _'Forgive me, Sasuke. Another time.'_
Itachi's the only one who says anything like that.
Sasuke has to sit down, swallowing around grief for a death that hasn't even _happened_ yet.
(He's sure the second one's Itachi, too, and he has no idea what he'd ever need to forgive Itachi for - )
-
The clan dies, and Sasuke's soulmarks mock him.
Where does Itachi think he gets the _right_ , to have _'I will always love you_ ' as his dying words, to say that after everything he's _done_ to Sasuke -
-
Itachi dies for the first time, and Sasuke shatters.
-
The second time, Sasuke wants to shout _'you're my soulmate, you idiot, why can't you just stay',_ but the words choke in his throat. He doesn't think Itachi knows, Sasuke doesn't even _remember_ his last words to his older brother but they can't have been anything encouraging, and.
He can't handle this, not now.
All he can say is a tepid _'Goodbye,'_ and he bursts into tears at Itachi's final words.
There isn't a third set of scrawls across Sasuke's skin.
-
The war finishes, and Sasuke - Sasuke can feel the weight of the dead, more souls than he can count hovering at the edge of his awareness. He feels the Rinnegan's power in his bones, dimensions sprawling around him, death at his fingertips.
It occurs to him, hazily, that it's been fewer than three days since Itachi's last death, that his soul's _still in reach_ , and what's the point of Sasuke, who's only ever managed to fuck up -
But he doesn't think Itachi wants him trading himself, either.
Madara and Hashirama are talking, quietly, so soft Sasuke can barely hear them, and a spark jolts through Sasuke's mind, causing his breath to catch in his throat as he realizes _he's not the only one with the Rinnegan._
He storms over to Madara and Hashirama, not caring that he's interrupting their moment, and demands, "The Rinnegan can put people _back_."
Madara looks at him with disinterested eyes. "Once, at the cost of the user's life. What's the point, measured against all the death of the world?" | 966471bb624748c09207d7798e66416d | ['885ec18bb7a546229941680207090156'] | "Reduce the damage. Become Hokage. Fix things so it never happens again because everyone in charge is an _ idiot _ who can't do _ anything _ right - " Sasuke spits out, each word falling off his tongue like fire. (He's not sure that's what he'd actually do. He's not sure if a world that harsh deserves to be fixed or burned. But - it'd be an _ option _ at least.)
(He knows, deep in his bones, that Itachi would never kill him.)
Itachi sighs, and…
Hugs him.
Sasuke stiffens. (Why is his brother making it so hard not to _ cry _…)
"I'll try my best," Itachi says, "But I won't do anything that'll compromise your safety."
Sasuke's breath catches in his throat. He wants to call Itachi an idiot again, but the words get tangled up in his brain.
Instead he just starts crying.
-
After a _ very _ long discussion with the ghosts, even Tobirama reluctantly agrees that the only way to make the Uchiha clan harder to just vanish is if more people know. If there'd be people up in arms about the village leadership overstepping their mandate in the execution of traitors. (The Third Hokage is a dictator in a way the First and Second never were, but you can't run a village without laundresses and you can't fight a war without soldiers, and there's got to be a line even Danzo won't cross - out of self-preservation, if nothing else.)
So he waits after training one day, waits for Tobirama to confirm they're not being spied on, and says, "Sensei. We need to talk."
(The Inuzuka aren't powerful nor popular, but they're _ embedded._ And Hashirama says the Inuzuka of his time fought the hardest for children's rights, and respected the office of Hokage least of all the clans.)
-
Inuzuka Tsume won't openly associate herself with Uchiha Fugaku just yet, out of wariness for her own clan's health, but according to Sesshi-sensei she starts going to clan council meetings again. The council is entirely a farce without even the right to make resolutions, but it lets her stick her foot in the door to influence.
-
Sasuke finds himself roped into tutoring Kiba, Tsume's son.
The things he does for his clan…
-
He isn't, of course, the only Uchiha genin in Konoha. And the genin are hardly less observant, less hooked into gossip than the civilians, though the rumors take longer to filter to them.
Which is how Sasuke finds himself in the middle of a semi-secret meeting of every genin in the compound.
-
"They can't do this, right?" one girl asks, biting her lip. She's the second youngest genin, at ten. Sasuke's never spoken to her in his life. "Just - the clan knows better?"
"Adults are stupid," says one of the 'ka twins. Reika or Mouka, he doesn't know which - they don't even look alike, so it's dumb he gets them mixed up, but, well. They're twelve. Of course, the oldest genin here is fifteen. Sasuke's the youngest, at seven. "Why is it surprising they'd do something dumb?"
"Do you know anything, Sasuke?" the oldest, a boy possibly named Kemuri, asks. Everyone turns to look at Sasuke.
He bites his lip. And to think he'd successfully avoided talking so far… But he's the clan head's prodigy. It's reasonable, to think he might know something.
"It's talk," he mutters. "And - plans. Not gonna happen for _ sure_." He pauses. "But… The Hokage knows."
That causes some unease, a few wide eyes, and the 'ka twins muttering to each other. "...Aren't traitors killed?" another boy asks, setting off a cascade of anxious back-and-forth.
Kemuri stands, calls for order, but people aren't really listening to him, and it takes the 'ka twins jumping on the table and shouting to get people to calm down a little. Kemuri regards Sasuke evenly. "I'm not going to ask how you know that," he says, and then glares at the assembly. "No one will." Of course, the obvious answer is probably 'Itachi.' Sasuke doesn't spend a lot of time with clan shinobi other than him. Not that he spends much time with his brother at all anymore...
Sasuke stares down at his feet, shoulders hunched. "The Hokage hasn't done anything yet. He might."
"How do we - how do we make them _ not_?" the first girl asks, face blotchy and expression scrunched up.
"Make it hard. To kill us without - without admitting it's a traitor thing," Sasuke says, recalling what he and his ghosts talked about. "People outside the clan don't - _ know_."
There's some more worried murmuring, but Kemuri and the other older genin look thoughtful. "You're too young to remember, but we lived elsewhere before the Nine Tails, all over the place," Kemuri says, looking at Sasuke. "There's a law that we gotta live in the compound now. For safety. Makes it easier to be clean about getting rid of us, I guess. But the law doesn't say we gotta sleep where we live, or that we can't spend all our time with our teams." He looks over the assembly. "My jounin-sensei likes me. I think. If the Hokage knows… There's not much harm in making sure our teachers do, too. We can make sure none of us are ever all in the compound together. Moving out might be hard; frequent team sleepovers is - it'll be _ obvious_, if they object to that."
Sasuke nods. That's… Really a lot like what Kagami proposed. Team is basically family, and you count on family.
"And we leave Sasuke out of explaining it," says one of the 'ka twins. "Don't say who told us what."
There's nods; they know well enough that it's easiest to vanish one person. Even a prodigy like Sasuke might go missing.
"What about Academy students?" someone else asks. "My little siblings… They don't have jounin to hide behind."
"Maybe they can stay over with Academy friends or chuunin teachers some?" another older genin says. "I know a lot of us weren't ever really popular in class, but… If everyone tries, it'll be - less people all here."
There's some murmurs of agreement. Sasuke nods along.
It's risky. There's no guarantee a purge won't simply spill over to anyone seen as allied, but - "Try the Inuzuka," he suggests, quietly. He's not _ saying _ Tsume knows, but… There's understanding looks.
They're kids. Fixing this shouldn't be their job.
But maybe they're all the world's got.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So! This chapter was fun. Next one is more team-centric; unfortunately I've only got 500 words of it written. And while usually I can put ~2k a day into assorted projects, this chapter's been sticky, so it might be more than a day before I get chapter 4 up.
**Author's Note:**
> Come join me (and find my original writing) on tumblr!: http://chrysanthos-writes.tumblr.com |
24fde87b53e7451a9a9c488b8af09dd3 | ['889fc80237424af297c52c0f7ec0233b'] | "The only other person not in today is Rob, one of our associates. He came in yesterday morning, but he was looking really ill, so we sent him home."
"And he didn't come back today?"
"No, but he called. Still has the stomach flu I guess."
"Can we get his full name and number please?"
"Of course. But, you don't think?...."
"We follow up on every possibility ma'am," Santana said firmly.
xx----xx
"How come you always turn on sympathetic-good-Christian-girl in these interviews?" Santana asked as they got back in the car, "You're always reassuring them and touching their hands and shit."
"Because I like playing Good Cop. And you make a much more believable Bad Cop than I do."
"Oh I don't know about that, I think you do bitch pretty well."
"Aw, that's sweet of you. Maybe next time you can play nice."
"We'll see," Santana said, getting out her phone and dialing the number Ms. Truman had given them for Robert Simon. It rang five times and went to voicemail. She hung up and turned the car on. "No answer. I already don't like him, never trust anyone with two first names."
"That's stupid. How about we don't trust him if he's faking sick and hiding a dead body?"
"I guess we should pay him a visit, maybe bring a get well card."
"Yeah, right."
xx----xx
Santana knocked firmly on the front door. Quinn stood a step below her, checking a phone message while Santana tapped her foot on a dirty welcome mat.
"That was an email from the lab," Quinn stepped up next to her. "The blood on the nightstand was Clair's."
"Shit. That's no help."
"No, it just means we need to find her, fast. It's been almost forty-eight hours and we have no idea how badly she's hurt."
"I know," Santana said, foot still tapping reflexively.
Quinn walked down the steps and around to the driveway, "There's no car in the garage, he's probably not home."
"Maybe he's out buying Pepto-Bismol and lime Jell-O," Santana said, looking down at her foot and forcing herself to stop tapping. The welcome mat she was standing on looked like it had been soaking up motor oil in a garage for years. Disgusted, she kicked at it, then exclaimed "Fuck. Shit, shit, shit, Quinn!"
"What?" Quinn walked back towards her.
"There's a bloodstain under this mat. It looks like he tried to wash it but couldn't get it out of the wood."
"That's because they did a terrible job waterproofing it..."
"Quinn! Focus! Physical evidence. We have to go in there and look for her."
"I know! Let me call in for a warrant," Quinn dug for her phone in her purse, but Santana was already wrapping her jacket around her fist and punching in one of the squares of glass around the doorframe. "Santana!"
"What? You said yourself we have to find her ASAP."
"Yeah, but what about due process, a call for backup, something?"
Santana just reached through the hole and fiddled with the deadbolt, then pulled out her gun as she eased the door open. Weapon in front of her, she inched her way inside. Quinn followed her with a huff, glancing behind them as Santana checked the living room, then the kitchen. Both clear, Santana pointed with her chin up the stairs and Quinn nodded. Every creak of the steps seemed to echo in the empty house. Santana checked the bathroom and bedroom, moving on as soon as there don't appear to be any immediate threats or signs of Clair. Quinn lingered a bit behind her, looking for evidence of a body dragged through, blood, struggle, something. The upstairs was as empty as the main floor. Silently, Quinn followed Santana back down the steps and through the kitchen to the back of the house where stairs descend to the basement.
Their breathing sounded like a hurricane to Quinn's keyed up senses. The stairs creaked worse than the flight to the second floor and there was no carpet to cushion the hammer fall of their boots on the wood. At the base of the steps, Santana felt around the wall for a light switch, but there was none. Once their eyes adjusted, Quinn noticed a bare blub and chain hanging from the ceiling beams in the middle of the unfinished room. She pointed, and Santana reached up to pull it, eyes shielded from the upcoming light. They looked around quickly, but the room was stacked with dusty furniture and little else.
"But it's too small..." Quinn whispered.
"What?" Santana said hoarsely.
"This room is only about two-thirds the size of the upstairs," she pointed left, "that wall, it should go farther that way, there must be a door in that wood paneling."
They walked around the furniture towards the wall. There was a latch visible near the corner, and Santana tugged at it to find it unlocked.
"That wasn't even very well hidden," she muttered.
"I don't think he spent a lot of time thinking this through, although I could be wrong. We might be walking into a stack of skeletons."
"Shh," Santana hissed as she went in, cocking her gun again.
"Oh my god!" Quinn yelled, as light fell on the prone body of a woman in the corner of the room.
She rushed past Santana, kneeling down to check her wrist for a pulse. With a huge sigh she felt a slow but steady rhythm, and noticed the rise and fall of her chest.
"She's just unconscious. And it looks like the blood was from a gash on her upper arm."
"Thank god," Santana said, "But we need to get out of here, now."
Quinn nodded, but as they tried to lift Clair's dead weight between them, there was a creak of hinges and footsteps upstairs. Santana gestured sharply and they set her down; then Santana threw an arm in front of Quinn to press them flush against the wall behind the door. | 80693951bb1b4f78bf01ac2f01014848 | ['889fc80237424af297c52c0f7ec0233b'] | “Yeah,” she said, looking back out at the sunset with a small chuckle, “me neither.”
“Speaking of Franky…” Alo said softly, carefully.
“She’s doing some sort of DJ thing with Nick and Matty this weekend, I think,” Mini replied, keeping her voice light.
“Not really what I meant.”
She didn’t answer him right away, and couldn’t look at him when she did.
“She’s forgiven me, and we’re actually friends now. That’s enough, I think.”
He pulled his arm from under her hand and settled it around her shoulders.
“It doesn’t get easier, does it Minerva?”
She smiled and shook her head. Not really wanting to follow that train of thought further, she focused on his last words instead.
“You do know that’s not really my name, right?”
“No?” he said, surprised. “What is Mini short for then?”
She looked at him with one eyebrow raised, and then shook her head vigorously.
“No way, it’s far too embarrassing to admit! I want to kill my mum just thinking about it.”
“Mins,” he said, leveling her with a serious look, “my name is Aloysius. How bad can it be?”
“Fine,” she heaved a sigh, “But if you ever tell _anyone_ I won’t hesitate to do murder…”
“All right, all right!” He held up his hands in surrender.
“It’s….Wilhelmina.”
“Wow, that is….bad.”
“Minerva is like, a goddess though, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You can keep calling me that then, Farm Boy.”
A small smile played at the corner of her mouth. The sun was now just a sliver of light reflected in the water. Alo chuckled and put his arm back around her as they turned to go inside.
“As you wish, Minerva.”
***
Mini woke slowly, becoming aware of the uncomfortable wooden floor beneath her before she got up the will to open her eyes. A few shafts of light were falling through the windows, but it was still quite early. Her head was resting on Grace’s stomach. She carefully eased herself up and untangled her legs from Grace and Alo’s. After she and Alo had returned (and Grace and Rich had sheepishly apologised for their display) they had all fallen asleep in a heap by the fireplace. She had a wicked cramp in her shoulder, but honestly felt more rested than she had in weeks.
Mini picked up her skirt and jacket from the floor where they’d been spread to dry. She pulled them on and tiptoed over to the door. The morning air was chilly and she shivered, pulling her jacket tighter around herself. The rocky path to the beach was cold beneath her bare feet, and still damp but not slick. At the bottom of the path she began to wander the boundary between the scrubby grass and the sand. She didn’t even notice the bottle lying in the grass until her toes bumped into its cold surface. As she bent over to pick it up, she heard a yawn behind her. She stood up and turned to find Grace and Alo coming to meet her, the latter stretching his arms above his head with his mouth open wide.
“Morning!” Alo said as he finished his yawn.
“What’s that?” Grace asked, and Mini took a closer look at what she had found.
It was a slightly cloudy glass bottle, the end stoppered with a large cork. Inside was a replica of a schooner with triangular cloth sails and delicate string rigging.
“A ship in a bottle.”
“Ooh, what a perfect souvenir! It looks like it’s always going on an adventure,” Grace said excitedly.
She thought for a moment about keeping it, but Alo was giving her a lopsided grin, and she returned it as she replied, “Then let’s send it on one.”
She raced them down to the shoreline and into the shallow waves. When they were in almost to her waist, Mini set the bottle afloat. Her eyes misted as they stung in the salt spray. She blinked to clear them as she grabbed her friends’ hands and they turned back towards the hill, the van, and home.
***
Rich was waiting at the top of the hill.
“Were we gonna go? Cause I need some fucking breakfast, and who knows where we can actually get food around here.”
“I’m sure there’s a McDonald’s or something on the way back,” Alo said, trying to placate him.
“I’m not eating that shit,” Rich and Mini said nearly simultaneously, and then looked at each other in horror.
Grace giggled, and then grabbed Rich’s hand.
“Oh, come on, it’s not like we’re in a trackless wilderness, there’s bound to be somewhere to eat along the road.”
“Fine, fine, let’s get on with it then.”
They climbed into the back of the van and Mini took one last look out at the sea before getting into the passenger seat.
“Right, we’re off!” Alo said, and backed them out onto the country lane.
About an hour after they stopped at a cafe for breakfast, they were completely lost.
***
“Are you sure Grace? You know you can stay if you want to, right?”
Mini bit her lip as Grace hauled her bags towards the front door.
“I’m quite sure,” Grace said with a deep breath. “The longer I run away from this, the worse I’m making things for everyone, including myself. And if mum and dad can’t accept me as I am, well…I’ll just turn up on your doorstep?”
Her hopeful little smile brought tears to Mini’s eyes. “Anytime.”
Mini waved, and tried to pretend she wasn’t about to cry. It didn’t matter anymore though, when Grace leaned back through the doorway and threw her arms around Mini’s neck.
“I’ll see you soon, Mini-Moo, okay? We’ll have a girls’ night with Liv and Franky or something.”
“Yeah, sounds good,” she replied, squeezing Grace back before pulling away with a forced smile.
***
Alo texted Mini a week or so later, _adventure or burgers?_ She made a face, but quickly texted back, _are those the only choices?_ His reply came only a few minutes before he showed up in front of her house: _both it is then._
“Really, Farm Boy? I don’t do burgers,” she said as she sat down in the van.
“Oh, come on. I promise it won’t be McDonald’s.”
“Maybe. That’s the best you’ll get.”
***
After lunch, he turned down a road that certainly wasn’t the way back home.
“Where are we going, Alo?”
“Dunno. I guess we’ll figure it out,” he said with a sideways glance and a smile. |
773a9c10bb8b418596d67c4824f7c37c | ['88a101ff6e194365a462656d5a7374b7'] | 5.0.5. made a small affectionate growl while he slept when Flug reached over and scratched the cub’s back gently as he got the next book in the pile, yawning a little as he absentmindedly opened the book. He started to read the book quietly, not expecting anything to be useful since every other book he read said basically the same stuff he already knew so all the research he was doing was for naught and it irritated him a bit but he didn’t let that stop him from at least attempting for the umpteenth time this week. He rubbed his tired eyes a little before pausing at a certain page of the book he was reading, “What the…?”
Flug's eyes grew dark as they landed on the book's title, _Alchemy and Black Magic_ , it wasn't one of the books he got out of the shelves nor the type of thing he'd normally believe in... But his attempts to study those black rocks in any ethical, law-abiding way proved useless so perhaps it was time for another approach. He just hoped he wouldn't be caught or he could kiss his job goodbye.
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"This won't work, there's no science behind it..." Flug muttered to himself as he stood in an empty room that he knew no guards or anyone would enter, "But... I have to try..." He sighed as he removed one of his dirty yellow gloves and grabbed the scalpel he brought with him. He took a deep breath as he reread through the instructions then used the scalpel to cut his index finger, squeaking a bit at the sudden pain he caused himself. He swallowed his pain as he used his blood to draw a pentagram and placed candles around it with a single black top hat on the very top. He exhaled after a moment as he picked up the book and recited the words that it had,
_"Daemones vocare quam nescio quomodo Latine scribere et ut venefica complures alios hic agit de sperare mumbo Alienor Latine scriptum!"_
As the scientist recited the spell the hat that was on the top began to cover and extinguish each candle until the only thing illuminated the room at the end of the recitation was the glow of blood that occurred as a reaction to the new, tall figure standing in the middle of the pentagram, holding the hat.
The demon stood in the middle pentagram with a wide grin that was filled with sharp teeth and bowed in front of Flug, who had dropped the book in complete shock, "My name is Black Hat." He introduced himself with his deep, smooth voice as he rose from his bowing position and locked eyes with the scarred face of the scientist, "I have come as you called to do as you bid, doctor~"
2. Black Rocks
The next day was a change of pace for Flug and it felt actually kind’ve nice to not have to feel the worry of how to go about his research without access to the world beyond the walls that confined the kingdom since now he had something that could do that for him and retrieve whatever he may need or tell him everything that was necessary for him to hear all without him even stepping out of the castle.
Currently, he was inside of the lab with the rest of his team working on a new project that was given to them from the king which was something entirely different from the sundrop but more of something that would help the royal couple find their young daughter who was kidnapped on the day of her birth. The team of scientists were tossing out and discussing different ideas each of them had for the project, none of them quite agreeing on what to do and it was all becoming quite a headache for Flug since none of them would shut up for a second. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he simply leaned on the back wall as he just let his team argue, trying to stay out of it for as long as he possibly could but was also half listening so he could hear some of the ideas each of them had- all of them were pretty well thought out but there were no compromises to be made by the stubborn people in the room.
The scarred face scientist groaned quietly in annoyance as he started to tune everyone out only to hear a completely different voice whisper into his ear, “Wouldn’t it be just grand if you could just mute them?” The deep voice of Black Hat cackled in his ear, “This room would be a whole lot quieter then!” Flug stiffened a little as he quickly looked over at where he’d expected to see the top hat wearing demon but was shocked to see that only his shadow stood next to him. He was about to sigh in relief at that but then he realized that there was no way his shadow could naturally be there since the light positioning was all wrong for it to be possible. | 6b19252ebc5d42b5aa667b2ec4d7d9b6 | ['88a101ff6e194365a462656d5a7374b7'] |
1. Prologue
When it came to fashion everyone knew which brands and designers to look out for- and in Paris there was only really one person in the fashion world they had their eyes on: Gabriel Agreste, the leading designer in the whole city and maybe the whole country. To say Gabriel was important to Paris would be an understatement since, in some ways, he was even more important than even the mayor himself. Everyone looked his way whenever he did anything to do with fashion and, at times, more. Everyone knew almost everything about his life… almost everything. There were certain details about his life that the public didn’t have any knowledge of. It wasn’t news to them that Gabriel and his son didn’t have the best relationship or that he still hasn’t moved on from the death of his wife but the fact that he was the villain that terrorized Paris with those accursed akumas or that in the basement of his mansion he had his wife in a glass coffin. Well, nobody needs to know everything about him, even he deserves some secrets to keep from the public eye. Unless, of course, you were someone like Nathalie Sancoeur.
Nathalie Sancoeur was well-known as the woman without emotions, without a heart such as the nature of someone with a last name like hers. People considered her a perfect fit as Gabriel Agreste’s personal assistant since she was really the only one in all of Paris who could be around her boss without succumbing to some kind of negative emotions after speaking to him- she really just stayed perfectly emotionless around him and she was around him a lot. Unlike her boss, Nathalie was only really known as the emotionless assistant and nothing of her personal life was known. Since nobody cared about her, she didn’t exactly care about anyone else. Well, except for the two Agreste boys, for them she will allow herself to care even if on the outside she never changed emotions. The public didn’t need to know that though, no one needed to know that.
If there was anything about them that the public did know for certain was just how much Gabriel trusted his assistant, and how incredibly loyal Nathalie was with her boss. That was something everyone could tell since neither of them tried to hide those facts.
So, when Nathalie suddenly went missing from her rightful place by Gabriel the public took notice immediately. At first, the fact of her sudden disappearance was just murmured throughout Paris- most assumed she was taking a couple of sick days, she did seem a bit under the weather after she left the Agreste mansion the day before, some people mentioned observing while they were driving or walking past the mansion. That was a pretty normal reason to be away from a job so people just went about their business as they quietly wished the assistant well.
\----------------------------------------
Gabriel was feeling quite frazzled as he tried to direct his employees on what they should be doing- he never realized until now how useful it was to have someone as competent as Nathalie around to basically boss around everyone in the company. It wasn’t that those who worked for him were idiots as he loves to act like but couldn’t they find more work that needs to be done without him pointing it out to them. Although, the man had to admit, at least to himself, that it felt kind of refreshing to be in the main office instead of cooped up in his mansion since he had been wanting to see the office and his employees again in place of his personal assistant who was usually the one in this office whenever he needed to have them do a specific objective or felt they needed someone to watch over them.
“Sir?” A masculine voice pulled him out of his thoughts and he directed his attention to the man who Gabriel recognized as the market researcher of his company, “I was hoping to go over some of my research?” He was sounded pretty confident about his work, and Gabriel could’ve sworn he saw a bit of relief in his features. It made the fashion designer a little curious about why so he silently allowed his empathy powers to figure out why, the reason could be assumed to be that the researcher was glad that Nathalie wasn’t around, which made Gabriel chuckle a little in amusement since that meant his assistant did a great job at putting some fear and unease in his employees.
Gabriel clasped his hands behind his back as he straightened out his face after he noticed the researcher get a bit more timid at the sudden laugh from his boss but he obviously tried to hide his nervousness. The older man hid the ghost of a smirk that came onto his lips for half a second as he answered the researcher, “Yes, I believe that I would like to see what you have found in your research, Mr. Tydon.” He answered Tydon as civilly as he could muster although no one could honestly call Gabriel Agreste a kind man but he does try to act it, if only because it’s the professional thing to do. |
babcb66cecf346d1947f7884a293e224 | ['88a5f6c85171486e9d5022d752cc09ae'] | Several moments passed that felt like entire lifetimes, Will engulfed in thought and a hint of worry. The silence and proximity felt comfortable; like something he'd had for the years they've been apart, pressed between the layers of glass and fear. Something he could only have with Hannibal.
“We don't want the food to get cold.”
His voice rumbled deep, and Will nearly sobbed at the painful loss of contact. Hannibal's hands slowly drifted towards the dish, and he walked towards the table and set it down with a thud, lingering there for almost a full minute. His hands are clenched ever so slightly, just enough for Will to tell he's trying to hold on to something, keep it back. Not let himself go.
Is it wrong that he wants him to?
Will sits down at the table, trilling his stiff fingers on the edge and watching every inch Hannibal moves seated across from him. The way he tenses and places himself like fine china on the seat, Will can tell they're back into The Game. The back and forth, the carefully crafted sentences, the tension, and hunger that suffocates a room- the one they used to play at every encounter. Well, all except for the last few they've shared.
This isn't what Will wants. Playing The Game is a restriction, a scale teetering between two fractions of a pound, emotions held back and bubbling under the lid of the pot. He's tired of it, the layers and screens of smoke. Will wants them both to let go and submit to themselves; break the many sheets of glass and writhe in the shards, lay together in the yarn which was once the taught strings between them, and both physically and spiritually embody the Ouroboros with it's winding, eternal unbridled hunger—
“Are you going to eat?”
Will's head snaps up, and his train of thought is abruptly halted. Right, of course. Here, Hannibal, dinner, on the run, Dolarhyde, Jack, Alana, everything. Then the Everything is back.
“Sorry I was… somewhere else.”
“I invite you back to the table, Will. How was your trip?”
Will ponders.
“Revealing.” He says. There's a hint of triumph in his voice.
“As all good trips are,” Hannibal adds.
“And all bad,” Will replies.
There's a silent agreement at that, and they both finish eating in silence. Once the table is cleared Will retires back to the couch, Hannibal going to take a shower without a word. Will pulls his legs up onto the cushions and crosses his legs, tracing his index finger around the outer edge of a book he picked up from the coffee table. It's in Italian, so he can only pick out a few words. A thought pops up that he'd like Hannibal to read it to him. He swats it away.
He listens for movement from the bathroom, hearing only the running of the water. He imagines it dripping down Hannibal's shoulders, forming pools sound his feet. It washes away with his thoughts down the drain. Will thumbs a page over and over again, staring at his nail, then abruptly closes the book, placing it on the couch like a crown on a silk pillow. He stares at the title etched into the velvet cover one last time, "Divina Commedia," before parting to the bedroom.
Will spreads out onto the silky sheets, raking his fingers across what must be impossibly high thread-count pillowcases. He looks around and feels foolish for just now noticing- the canopy, the deep red hue, the unused candles, the sultry figures taking up the sculptures and the frames- and wonders the nature of this room, or if it was always this way.
Will is well caught up in the finer details of the patterns and themes when the running water stops. He doesn't notice at first, laying starfished with a curtain entangled in his arms, when Hannibal steps in, towel around his waist and nothing else.
If you didn't know him, you would be none the wiser to all his infinitely subtle tells. The very slight pull of his mouth, the smallest flinch of his shoulder, the unnoticeable twitch of his hand. Will notices. He doesn't know if Hannibal knows that, but in his experience, he doesn't know when to accept defeat anyway.
The man was still a smug bastard behind bullet-proof glass.
And God, he loves him.
Hannibal smiles at him.
Did he say that out loud?
"D-did I say that out loud?"
"You didn't have to."
Hannibal takes his stupidly elegant strides towards him and sits on the very edge of the bed in front of Will, head turned partially to him.
"If this is something you want, you know you can't take it back," Hannibal says without warning.
"I. Uh. Um. I don't... I think I don't know?" Will says. More like blabbers uncontrollably.
"That's not a yes," Hannibal replies.
"What... What about you? What do you think?"
"I think the culmination of what we are is not going to happen right now. It will be something, but not this. It will be something... For us. And just us. But I don't believe it is my decision to make," Hannibal says.
Will lets that settle in his gut. He doesn't want this to end, ever, but he doesn't know if it can continue. What he found; what they discovered together, it's something he doubts has ever been. Not on this Earth- their Earth. As much as he hates that, he also accepts it. And he likely has since the beginning without knowing it.
"I want... Can you read me something? Doctor Lecter?"
"That book in my living room you couldn't take your eyes off of? And for good reason. It's the Divine Comedy. Dante's Inferno. I always keep a spare in each of my houses, along with an Achilles and Patroclus is, among others. Do you have a passage in mind?" Hannibal asks. | 5683a5ec03ac453a9ad9df753dc7b935 | ['88a5f6c85171486e9d5022d752cc09ae'] | “Molly, can you hear me?”
“Stop making fun of me, please. I don't know if-if you enjoy when I'm in pain, but it hurts me. It really does.”
“No, Molly I'm not making fun of you. I mean it. I love you,” he thinks a bit, “I know I'm not the kind of person that falls in love. I know I- I definitely never believed that of myself. Neither did anyone I know, probably. When I first met you, I thought you were just ordinary, like everybody else. I don't know when that changed, but when it did, I denied it. That ordinariness became value in my eyes. Something useful. Something I could never have.”
Molly's eyes are wet. Her shoulders have relaxed, and she's leaning against the counter gently. Sherlock's exaggerated expressions have softened to more heartfelt, sincere ones. He doesn't notice the timer stopping as he continues. Neither do Mycroft and John.
“We've had our falling outs so many times, but you have this remarkable ability that I can't wrap my head around. Without fail, you've always forgiven me. Every time I let you down or took your help without so much as a thank you, you still did everything you could to help me. You are one of the few people who willingly chose to be in my life. I will never, for the rest of my days understand that. I've sat through every single partner that's come into and out of your life without so much as a comment, and I know that your relationship with me has affected your own. I'll never be able to say in words how sorry I am. I don't believe in love, but I believe in whatever this feeling is that swallows me whole every time I hear your name, your voice. That's real. Realer than anything else in the world.”
There's a pause. Sherlock realizes that he was staring off into the wall rather than the screen and that the connection was severed minutes ago. Mycroft and John still say nothing.
The echoing of Eurus's hand clapping robotically fills the overhead speakers.
“Congratulations, you've just confessed. Well, I suppose the whole point of a confession is that you're saying something that isn't already known, though, isn't it? I imagine everyone's known for a long time. Except for you two utter knob-heads.”
Of course, sure, the rest of the puzzles were all dangerous and insane and were probably the craziest scenarios of everyone present’s lives. But for Sherlock? The rest of the day was a blur. It should have been the highlight of his career, saving his best friend, his brother, his sister. After the spell of the night was broken, though, he was just an idiot who had confessed to being in love with John Watson.
**Author's Note:**
> Might add smth later, depends on whether or not I feel like watching S3 again and crying vigorously. |
5974ed1f2cc14db5849fde8261eb49a0 | ['88a900d8f56044afb4de2287e05800f0'] | The medic flinched, realizing her misstep, and pulled out a wipe in silence. She had Kakashi pull up his shirt to reveal the full extent of the wound. She wiped it clean, using up all the disinfectant he had, before using her chakra to heal the wound. She couldn’t close it all together and wrapped what she couldn’t with the bandages.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, she nodded to herself and stood.
“Alright, that’ll have to do.”
“Good, now let’s go,” Kakashi grumbled, pushing himself to his feet and lead the way out of the cave.
He was greeted by the sight of two puppies rolling around on the ground. Guruko, bigger, easily pinned Uhei, but let the young greyhound up. Allowing her to pounce on him and chew his ears. Pakkun sat nearby watching for enemies.
“Boss!” Guruko yapped, as he spotted his summoner, he bowled over Uhei and jumped against Kakashi’s legs, “We got him, Boss! Can we get a bone now?”
“Boss, bone!” Uhei yipped, copying the older pup.
“Later, Guruko,” Kakashi said, gently rubbing the pup’s ears, “We haven’t finished our mission yet. We have to get Rin to her team.”
The pups’ eyes turned to the girl who was watching in amusement. They stared at her for a long moment, before Uhei slunk back behind Kakashi, unsure of the new person. Guruko, on the other hand, bounded forward tail wagging as he sniffed her feet.
“Hi, hi!” he barked, “I’m Guruko.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Guruko, I’m Rin,” the girl smiled, petting the dog’s head.
“That’s Uhei, and over there’s Pakkun, he’s a grump.”
“I heard that, pup,” Pakkun growled, he stood and moved toward the group, “We’ve got to get going, ‘Kashi, you’ve got a large number of shinobi moving in this direction.”
“Reinforcements,” the boy growled, “Ok, let’s go. Tsurara…”
Kakashi blinked, he glanced around the clearing, not spotting the familiar white form. He frowned, having seen the wolfdog after the battle he knew she was alive.
“Pakkun, where’s Tsurara?”
“Later, pup, let’s go,” Pakkun’s voice left no room for arguments.
Reluctantly, he dropped the subject and turned his eyes on the two pups, wondering how he was going to carry both of them. Noticing his look, Guruko bonce up and down.
“I can run, Boss, I promise I can keep up,” the hound barked, tail wagging happily.
The silver-haired boy gave the pup a calculating look, before slowly nodding. He bent to pick up Uhei, ignoring the twinge of pain as he pulled his wound. The red-furred pup licked his masked face, before settling in his arms.
“Alright let’s go.”
They took to the trees, heading for Kannabi at a steady pace.
* * *
They were half-way through setting the explosive tags when the Jounin’s ninken growled warningly.
“What is it?” Obito asked, looking up from his side of the bridge.
“Someone’s coming,” the Inuzuka growled, drawing a kunai, “Hurry up with those tags, Uchiha.”
Obito grumbled under his breath, something about big-headed jounin. But he picked up the pace as he laid the tags at the key structural points on the bridge. He couldn’t wait to see it blow up. The sooner it was gone the sooner they could rescue Rin.
Rin…
Those Iwa bastards would pay for laying a hand on her, he would make sure of it. If they hurt her… he couldn’t even consider the possibility. Rin would be fine. This wouldn’t be a repeat of… of that incident. He wouldn’t lose a teammate like that again.
His head shot up at the sound of leaves rustling, immediately preparing for attack. There was no way those Iwa bastards weren’t going to be back. The bridge was too crucial to the war effort.
So, he was surprised when a familiar face shot out of the trees landing neatly at the end of the bridge. Brown hair waved in the wind, obscuring familiar purple marks on her cheeks, and the happy grin stretching across her face.
Obito’s heart caught in his throat, and his own face split in an answering grin. Because she was safe. He couldn’t find a single injury from where he stood.
_“Rin!”_ he cried, joy clear in his voice, “You’re ok!”
“I’m fine, Obito,” she laughed.
“How did you escape?” the Inuzuka asked, his voice laced with suspicion, “You were outnumbered, with no help or weapons.”
“Hey!” Obito squawked, “You should be happy that Rin got away, Bastard!”
“The circumstances are suspicious, Uchiha.”
“If you’re implying that I gave up information for my release you’re wrong, Inuzuka-san,” Rin said, before Obito could respond, “And I never said I didn’t have help.”
As if summoned by her words another body materialized beside her.
“The area’s clear for now, but it won’t be for long,” the person grunted, turning his lone eye on the Jounin, “I would hurry up your sabotage mission if I were you Jounin-san.”
“Ba- Bakashi!” Obito cried incredulity.
The silver-haired nukenin turned his grey eye onto the Uchiha, with a tired expression on his face.
“Call me that again, Uchiha, and I’ll gut you.”
“Bakashi! It is you! And you’re still a bastard!”
The former Kumo-nin blinked at him, before turning to Rin with a sigh.
“I do believe your teammate has something wrong with him.”
“I’m aware, we’re working on it.”
“Hey!”
“Well, you can tell your sensei I’ve paid my debt to him,” the boy said, glancing back at the trees, “Try not to get yourselves killed, I won’t always be around to save your hides.”
“Wait, Kakashi!” Rin stalled him before he could disappear into the trees. She turned to Obito who was still sputtering after the other boy’s comment. “Obito, do you still have my spare med-kit?”
“Yeah,” he said, as he dug through his pack for the med-kit his teammate gave him after lost his in a river. Pulling it out he tossed it to Rin. | 0ad9661692174d419afdf5fe45736580 | ['88a900d8f56044afb4de2287e05800f0'] | "You always want ramen, I wouldn't be surprised if you named your kid after it," Yoshino grumbled.
"Shh!" Mikoto hissed, "Don't give her any ideas!"
It was too late, the Uzumaki had a thoughtful look in her eyes. Mikoto glared at Yoshino who sheepishly shrugged.
"I pity that kid," the Uchiha muttered, before freezing. The other two stopped as well, giving their friend curious looks, "Someone's watching us."
"Yeah, there are a lot of people watching us," Kushina tried to play it off, but she was frowning thoughtfully.
"Not them," Mikoto replied, her eyes turning red as she scanned the crowd.
Some of the villagers jumped back at the sight of the sharingan, fearful of the shinobi's intentions. But Mikoto paid them no mind, as her eyes narrowed on a boy slowly moving away. His body was covered in chakra, the classic sign of a henge.
"There, that boy," she pointed to said child, "He's wearing a henge."
The other women turned in the indicated direction, eyes narrowing in suspicion, and something similar to glee in Kushina's case. They glanced at each other, all wanting some sort of action after this dull mission.
So, they started to follow the black-haired boy, who, when he noticed he was being followed, broke into a sprint. Much faster than any civilian, the boy was running at mid to high chuunin speed. At the prospect of a challenge, the three Konoha shinobi gave chase.
* * *
The three Konoha shinobi were unfamiliar to Kakashi, except that he'd seen the red-head in Kumo's bingo book. And after his recent encounters with Konoha's Anbu, Kakashi had no desire to be caught by the women.
Besides, most kunoichi tended to be insane.
And every Konoha shinobi he'd met was already insane, he couldn't imagine facing a Konoha kunoichi. His mind refused to place Rin in that category, she was a medic –they had a category all their own.
So, he did the smart thing, seeing as they didn't seem to be aware of him he started moving down the street, keeping pace with the crowd. He could come back later, the Konoha shinobi seemed to just be passing through.
He felt the change in the crowd, the tension and sudden spike of fear. He could feel eyes on him, risking a look back he saw the trio had locked onto him. He felt a pulse of fear at the spinning tomoe of the sharingan, a damn Uchiha that's how they found him out!
Channeling chakra to his legs he bolted, hoping to reach the trees and disappear. The frightened screams behind him were telling, they were following.
In retrospect, he should have known he didn't have a chance of out running the pursuers. They were well rested; he on the other hand, was exhausted and starving. They caught him easily, the red-head landing in front of him with a feral grin. The other two landed behind him, blocking his only escape route.
Kakashi grit his teeth, he was so close to the tree line, so damn close. But it wasn't to be, he dropped into a fighting stance as the women closed in.
"Now, now, none of that," the Uchiha chided from over his shoulder, "Now just who are we dealing with, _Kai!"_
Kakashi flinched as his henge was dispelled. His good eye narrowing in agitation. The women gaped at him, obviously not expecting him to actually be a kid.
"A mini-nukenin?" the red-head gaped, "Kumo has mini-nukenin!"
"Well, that's disappointing," the unknown woman grumbled, crossing her arms.
"What the hell are you doing as a nukenin, kid?" the Uchiha asked, concern flooding her eyes.
"I didn't agree with my village, isn't that the standard answer?" Kakashi spit out, wondering how he was going to get out of this.
"I know you!" the red-head suddenly gaped, "You're that nukenin Minato-baka is always talking about!"
"Kushina!" the Uchiha scolded.
"Who?" Kakashi questioned, not knowing anyone by the name of Minato.
"You know," Kushina? Deadpanned, "Konoha's Yellow Jumping Bean."
Kakashi gaped at her, as the Uchiha started berating her teammate and the other woman started chortling. Did she just? The Yellow Jumping Bean? How can she get away with calling one of the most feared men in the Elemental Countries that?
"Kushina! You can't go around calling Minato-kun that!"
"Why? I think it's fitting," Kushina huffed, "Besides, it's better than calling him a sissy or pansy, like normal."
"Kushina!"
Kushina? As in Uzumaki Kushina? The Red Hot-Blooded Habanero? He was dead, between the Uchiha, the Habanero who calls the Yellow Flash a sissy, and this other person who's probably some other feared nin. There was no way out.
"Hey guys, I think he's broken," the other woman said, waving a hand in front of his face.
"Eh?" Kushina gaped, before grabbing him and shaking him roughly, "Hey! You can't break, 'ttebane! Minato would kill me, he wants to thank you for saving Rin!"
"He's the one that Obito-kun was talking about?" the Uchiha asked.
"Yup, the silver hair, missing eye, the mask, it's definitely him."
"Kushina, maybe you should stop shaking him," the brown-haired woman interjected.
Uzumaki looked at him and balked, releasing him immediately. Kakashi groaned, willing the world to stop spinning. He could barely hear the woman's apologizing, not that he cared, he just didn't want to throw up.
"Well then, I'm Uchiha Mikoto, this is Nara Yoshino–"
"I'm not a Nara yet."
"And I'm Uzumaki Kushina, 'ttebane!" Kushina finished before Mikoto could continue, "And what's your name, Nukenin-kun?"
Kakashi scowled at the nickname, and wondered if the Yellow Flash had shared it. But he kept silent about it and weighed his options, there weren't many. He could try to fight his way out and lose or comply and hope for the best. With a sigh, he answered.
"Hatake Kakashi."
The kunoichi stared at him, wide-eyed, before Yoshino spoke.
"As in Hatake Sakumo, Kumo's White Fang?" |
247b06c891184a73baf15fbee2fe1d80 | ['88b3c6514f6d4810bcf83994a31742b7'] | Hunk briefly turns his head over his shoulder to give Lance a broad grin and a small wave. “Lance, my dude. The bi annual tradition of watching FMA has begun! Grab us some popcorn and we may let you join us.”
Pidge waves her hand in a dismissive way at him “Yes peasant, fetch us our popcorn.”
Lance frowns, which soon turns to a pout as Keith snorts beside him.
“Rude.” He mumbles “Due to this act of betrayal I now have no choice but to force you all to come out with me tonight.” He’s met with various expressions of amusement. “You may think you have a choice but I can assure you…you do not.”
Keith raises an eyebrow at him “Oh really? And how exactly do you get me to bow to your will then?” His lips are curled into a confident smirk that immediately makes Lance regret wanting to cheer him up earlier. Pidge’s curiosity is also peaked at Lance’s ominous words; she scrambles off the ground and throws herself atop the older boys.
“Oh I love mysteries! What dirt do you have on us?” she eagerly asks as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, light reflecting off them.
Lance laughs as the younger presses her face against his, squishing their cheeks together. “You’re not supposed to be excited about blackmail…besides, it’s not all blackmail. I trust Hunk to be a good enough friend to accompany me without needing a motive besides being a good friend.”
“Aw thanks Lance, but I would like a reward for my good behaviour.” Hunk chuckles as he pulls himself onto the couch to join his friends, “Battling my social anxiety to go out with you deserves a reward.”
Keith’s brows furrow and his nose crinkles in disgust “There is no way I’m going out anywhere. You’re lucky to even have me in your house.”
Lance turns his head towards Keith, a sly smile growing on his face “Here is where my master weapon comes into play, I have been hoarding this for years and finally it is time to unleash my fury.” Lance reaches over Pidge and Hunk to grab his backpack; he unzips it to reveal an old, battered sketchpad. Keith immediately goes red at the sight of it.
Lance stands triumphantly on the couch cushions, the sketchpad held in a tight grasp high above his head as Keith tries to reach him. “Curse your long spaghetti arms!”
“Beholds fellow acquaintances,” Lance bellows at the top of his lungs “little Keith Kogane’s emo Sonic the Hedgehog OC and shipper fanart!”
Both Hunk and Pidge gasp dramatically at the reveal and quickly gather around Lance in order to get even the briefest glimpse of the drawings contained inside the cardboard cover.
“Here is where we negotiate Keith, if you come out with us tonight I will give you back your fantastic little book and we can all forget it ever happened. However if you still refuse to come out with us I will have no choice but to send the images inside to every cute boy you’re texting right now!”
Once again Hunk and Pidge gasp dramatically as Lance lets out a frankly terrifying high pitched evil laugh, “Now Keith, what is your choice?”
Keith scowls “Fine,” he mumbles “But I am not happy about this.” He holds out his hand for the sketchpad which Lance quickly smacks away. Keith looks up at him in shock.
“Nu-Uh Keith, I’ll give it to you tomorrow after we’ve had the wildest night out ever!” Lance throws his hands in the air to add some flair to the conversation as Keith’s scowl deepens and he crosses his arms in a huff.
Pidge looks up at Lance in awe “That was such a good hustle you don’t need to persuade me to come, but if Hunk gets a reward I want one too!”
“Ok fine I’ll pay for pancakes for everyone tomorrow morning.” Pidge cheers as she and Hunk high five. “Ok so are we going now?”
“What?” Lance brings a hand to his chest, appalled by the female alpha’s question “Of course not, we need to glam ourselves up!”
Pidge visibly deflates “Lance, no please.” Alas it is too late as Lance slings his arm around her shoulders and steers her unwillingly to his room. Chattering away to himself about cute outfits and makeup that would look great on her as the young alpha tries to escape his hold.
Hunk laughs a little at the exchange while Keith cracks a smile. Hunk turns to Keith, “Want me to give you a makeover too?”
Keith is silent for a few moments, debating it in his head. “Sure” he answers with a soft smile. The beta and alpha pair head off to the other bedroom to get ready for the long night ahead.
2. Chapter 2
Lance looks good, and he knows it. He’s always taken special care in his appearance, there is just something satisfying about having smooth skin, luscious silky hair and a tanned and toned body. He likes to walk into a room and immediately have all eyes on him and with his outfit tonight the attention is guaranteed. White converse runners, tight black leather pants which accentuate the curve of his hips as well as his plump ass and powerful thighs. On his top half is a navy sleeveless turtleneck which shows off his toned arms and tanned skin. He’d also plucked Keith’s fingerless gloves as they were walking out the door despite the older alpha’s protests. | 0618301f77044b89af92fde0c7dbee37 | ['88b3c6514f6d4810bcf83994a31742b7'] | Lance rushes back over to his laptop; hits refresh and scans through the results for ‘Allura’. The only results for the this name is of course Princess Allura of Altea, now seeing close up pictures of her Lance can definitely confirm that this woman is his baby daddy. Same crystal blue eyes, luscious white hair that he wonders if his baby will have and a skin tone darker than Lance’s. Hunk looks over his shoulder at the results on the laptop screen.
“If they are a royal family then there must be some way to contact them.” He hums in consideration.
“Do I want to contact them? They could probably destroy me in two seconds…” Lance wraps his arms around himself. “Besides they probably wouldn’t believe me anyway. Probably think I’m desperate for money or fame or something.”
“Lance wouldn’t it be worse if they did find out and you didn’t tell them?”
“How-how would they find out?” “I don’t know they could have like a secret service type thing with special agents that could know you slept with the princess and are monitoring you.” At his friend’s horrified look Hunk quickly continues “Not to mention the Altean royal family apparently has these super genetics so whenever a child is born to one of them, no matter what the other parent’s hair colour is. Not to mention no other humans besides them have ever been born with naturally white hair. If someone saw you with a child with white hair rumours could come out, the family could look into it and who knows what could happen to you and that kid.”
Lance lets out a shuddery breath, lowering himself down into the chair, hand automatically resting on his stomach. “So what should I do?”
A hand rests upon his shoulder; Hunk lowers himself down to be in the omega’s field of view. “This is all your choice Lance, but I just think that if you let them know now there’s a chance you can be more in control of the situation.”
“You’re right. You’re always right.”
Hunk takes the laptop off his friend and does some searches of his own. The pair sit in silence with only the sound of laptop keys and a clicking mouse breaking the quiet. “Here.” He finally says, showing Lance what he’s been doing for the last five minutes. The tab open on the laptop shows a very fancy looking website with a heading reading ‘The Altean Royal Family’ “They have a way you can contact them, it gives you multiple royal family members and the royal house itself. Seems to be a very letter focused way of contact which is a little bit backwards and a lot more slow, not to mention they mightn’t get to it for a while, but we can write a letter.”
Their textbooks, notebooks and pens lay strewn about the table from studying. Lance grabs a pen, rips a sheet of paper out of a notebook and starts to compose his letter.
‘ _Dear Princess Allura,_
_You got me pregnant. Thanks._
_If you want to contact me my name, address and phone number are written on the back of this sheet._
_Kind regards, Lance_.’
“I hope they can detect the sarcasm in the text.”
“I’d say anyone could.”
Lance hands the sheets to Hunk “Could you please mail this for me? I want to go to bed.” The beta nods, stuffing the letter inside an envelope addressed to the princess before grabbing his coat and heading out the door. When the door clicks closed Lance slumps over, mentally exhausted. He rests his hand onto his stomach, speaking to the baby growing inside. “Gosh you are a lot more trouble than I was expecting.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Ok in case you think I'm weird for saying a Royal Family has a website, the English Royal Family do so I based the idea off that. I'm 100% sure all Royal Families probably have websites but it just seems like a weird thought to me. XD
5. Chapter 5
Lance is almost nine weeks pregnant when there is a frantic knock on his door one Friday morning. He was making himself toast for breakfast, relishing the absence of the overprotective presence in his life as Hunk’s classes were about an hour before Lance’s. He glances curiously at the door, they hardly ever get visitors and he needs to be on his way to his lecture in ten minutes. The knocking continues to grow in speed and noise.
“Ugh, I’m coming!” Lance calls as he crosses the apartment to open the front door. As he swings the door open the first thing he registers is orange. Very bright orange. Outside his door stands a tall, skinny man with a glorious orange moustache with luscious orange hair to match. Stunned into silence Lance just stares as the man introduces himself.
“Good morning! Would you happen to be Lance?” Lance nods dumbfounded.
“Fantastic! My name is Coran, I’m the Royal Adviser to the Altean Royal Family. I’m sure you know why I’m here.”
“The letter.”
Coran purses his lips “Yes, your eloquently put letter certainly got our attention.” Lance blushes at that “May I please come in?”
Lance quickly moves to the side to allow the strange man to enter. As he walks through the apartment Lance notices how he subtly judges the home around him, probably picturing a future monarch lying in a cheap flat with mould gathering in the corners of the ceilings, dull dirty carpets and cramped for space. All previous heirs are probably covered in gold the second they are born. Coran plops himself down onto the couch, twirling his moustache between his thumb and index finger. He pats the space next to him so Lance joins him on the couch. |
95d40690ca6b4d90a3e72a24f336973c | ['88b855c4eb244c6aa987391433bf8502'] | Haru looked around the room and all he could think was if this is what Spiderman felt like all the time. It’s as if his senses were heightened to a whole other level, but in a pleasant way. Australian people suddenly looked much friendlier, the gravity bong they sat around looked like a fitting subject for a painting, and even though Haru wasn’t a fan of hip-hop music, the song that was playing was absolutely _lovely_.
“Oi, Haru.” Haru’s attention swayed back over to Rin, and _man_ did he look gorgeous. “How’s being high?”
“Like wonderland.” Haru answered blissfully. Rin chuckled. It was the most beautiful chuckle Haru ever heard. He almost wanted to repeat himself just to hear him chuckle again.
“Dude, he’s so high. He would never say that sober.” Rin said to Mikey.
“Remember you’re first joint? You said synchronized swimming with penguins and dolphins sounded like the next best Olympic sport that you would partake in.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
Haru stared hard at Rin. He wanted his attention to turn back on _him_. “Rin,” he started.
“Yeah?” Haru relaxed a little with Rin’s focus back on him.
“We should go on a date or something.”
Rin quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? Well, I’d sorta call this a date.”
Haru frowned. “No, I mean like what Rei and Nagisa are doing. Like high-schoolers.” Haru sated his urge to reach out and touch Rin’s sweatshirt, which looked _really_ soft. His hands touched the fabric, and it was as soft as it looked. He slid his arms around Rin’s waist until he was completely hugging him. He savored the sweatshirt on his forearms and cheek, and curling up like a cat on the couch. “So soft…” He mumbled.
He felt Rin pat his head and squeezed tighter, feeling Rin’s every breath inflating and deflating his ribs. It was euphoria, and he wanted to feel this forever. “I love you, Rin.”
Haru felt every muscle fiber in Rin’s body contract to pluck the weed joint out of Haru’s hand. He looked at Rin’s face taking a drag from the remaining joint and then exhaling the smoke in beautiful billows of grey around them. His face was so beautiful when he smiled. “I love you too, Haru.”
Haru settled into Rin’s body, wondering how much that ambiguous word meant. “Love you so much. So muuuucchhh... Where the cheez-its?”
Haru woke up the next morning with memories of the high coming in one by one. He sighed. Well, coming out while high was certainly something he didn’t expect to do. Not that he totally regretted it, but he didn’t want the rest of his trip to be plagued by his romantic whims.
Rin walked into the living room with a bottle of water in hand. “Morning, Haru.”
“G’morning.” Haru rubbed his eyes.
“Here.” Rin tossed the bottle to Haru and stretched his arms over his head.
“We’re going to one of my favorite cafés on the beach today.”
“Okay.” Haru took a drink from the bottle.
“You can call it a teenager’s date if you want.”
Haru paused and mentally collapsed. Hearing that from Rin was a bit more embarrassing than he thought. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Hey Haru,” Rin waited for Haru to look at him. “Don’t worry so much about everything. I already told you, I love you. Trust me when I say that.”
_Trust me_. Haru liked the sound of those words. Something about it sounded so sincere. So _secure_. Trust, like the buoyancy that kept Haru swimming and afloat.
Of course he could trust Rin.
As Haru got up he smiled, and then wrapped his arms around Rin who reciprocated the action. It felt as wonderful as it did with pot in his system.
“I will.”
Rin must have had a thing for patting his head, but Haru wasn’t complaining.
“By the way, you must have been so freakin’ nervous before trying the joint, because you didn’t even notice my other friend Carl video-taping you the whole time.”
Haru pulled away. “What?”
Rin reached into his pocket and pulled out a camera memory chip. “I wanted to preserve the memory of your first high.” He waved around a memory chip like a cheeky child and plunged in back into his sweatpants. “Now come on. We’ve got an awesome first date to make.”
He turned his heel and left Haru rolling his eyes. But the butterflies that tickled his stomach never felt so pleasant before. | fd16bcb430724bb6bc492573bd7456b7 | ['88b855c4eb244c6aa987391433bf8502'] | Shirley quickly jumps into a few theories lest Izaya remains irrevocably unconvinced. _Jeez, the rational can be so hard to persuade..._ "Small things are cute, right? I mean you are in Japan, you understand. People in America say 'cute like a button', and that's kind of weird. Maybe because the flea's small, yeah? And 'ma puce' even sounds cute and little. Really, almost anything in French sounds nice."
"Well well, doesn't that sound like something someone said?" Shizuo says grinning at Izaya.
Izaya sighs irritably. It’s not that he isn’t able to rationalize all this sentimental crap. In fact, he can understand the sentimental similarities between names like "flea" and "doll-face", and he deems most dolls creepy with their unnervingly inaccurate yet recognizable imitations of human emotion. But right now, he’s having a hard time coming to terms with being comfortable with it. Izaya has never been one to settle for anything less than desired, but in mutual relationships there always have to be compromises, especially with Shizuo who's probably more unyielding than Izaya is.
"And the French never complain about pet names like that?"
"Perhaps some. But I do know that whether they were called ' _mon chou'_ , ' _mignon_ ' or ' _ma puce_ ', they were always so happy. And I have no doubt you will learn to love your pet name as well. As long as Shizuo looks at you with love in his heart and soul, you can love anything he does for you."
Shizuo nudges Izaya with his shoulder. "You get used to it. 'Promise." Then he adds in a muttered voice, "And it's also not as cheesy as it sounds."
"Is that a promise?"
"If you want it to be."
Izaya honestly had to dwell on making that decision. There were times when Shizuo was so romantic without intending to be, but he also tended to lean towards the cheesy side. But Izaya learned that only with Shizuo could he appreciate some of that stupid sappiness. It was a strange kind of triteness that had his heart bouncing on a trampoline in utter euphoria. So the ultimate question is: does being called " _flea_ " or " _puce_ " or whatever even graze a level of tolerability? Izaya grimaces at the idea of compromise. But perhaps (perhaps!) as long as Shizuo doesn't go too far down that path, he could feel some joy in being called a French term of endearment.
Izaya slowly pushes himself up on his toes to whisper his response in Shizuo's ear. "I'm your flea as long as Shizu-chan's mine to bother."
Izaya is pretty sure Shirley heard that, because she's grinning and clearly resisting a dire urge to bounce in place. His suspicion is confirmed when Shizuo slides his arm behind Izaya's shoulders and abruptly turns towards him, like a swing dance dip, to steal a quick and sloppy kiss. Izaya wished he hadn't let out the sound of surprise by the unprecedented display of affection. Shirley now has her face in her hands and twisting her body in some sort of contained expression of glee. Shizuo pulled him back up onto his feet before they became too noticeable, but Izaya is painfully aware of how unnecessarily conspicuous he and his lover were just then. In a place like Ikebukuro, there is no such thing as a secret.
Shizuo says, "I think we should get going Shirley. _Merci pour ton temps_."
" _De rien! Au revoir, mes petits tourtereaux!_ "
Shizuo shook his head as he put his arm around Izaya to head off. " _Tais-toi_..." He mutters to himself.
An arm slithers around Shizuo's waist and tugs him in, begging for attention. Shizuo reciprocates the action with tender affection.
"French, huh?" Izaya says looking up with a raised eyebrow.
"I needed to take up a hobby, and Shirley and I became pretty tight, so I'm learning French from her."
"And it couldn't be Russian? From her or even from Simon... maybe _me_?"
"Russian is an _ass_ to learn and you would know it." Shizuo hugs Izaya to his side with one arm and kisses the top of his head. " And you like it, _mon petit_."
"God you are so cheesy." Izaya rolls his eyes away from Shizuo. "I seriously hope that you don't rub off on me."
"So what if I do? I'll love you anyway, _ma puce_."
Izaya huffs. It'll take a while for the puce thing to sink in. "So damn cheesy..."
"But you're not telling me to stop." Shizuo points out.
"Touché."
They stop in their tracks and Izaya face-palms himself and groans. _Touché_? Wow. He couldn't have said "you have point" or "that's true"? Of all the things he could have said!
He doesn't look up from his hand, because Shizuo's victorious laughter is enough humiliation as it is. But maybe Izaya's love is a little masochistic, because beneath his face-palm Izaya smiles and whines to himself in Russian, "I don't completely know why, but I love you Shizuo. Even though you're a stupid, sexy, French-speaking bastard, _I_ will always love you anyway."
**Author's Note:**
> Why French? I heard she speaks Italian in the English dub, so I figured I'd give her a third language. I mean if you know one romantic language, it makes learning the others a lot easier.
>
> Translation? Nothing google translate can't handle. |
1c9840d46a6c4e68ba301f1c64b37eb3 | ['88bb684d2dfa471ba0d9b56d77a45217'] | Conversations at Court
**Author's Note:**
> Based on a Bloodborne AU in which Maria is the direct descendant of Annalise.
>
> Also, vampires.
In many other places, the change of seasons was heralded by color licking to life among dead leaves and the slowly-awakening calls of hibernating beasts. In Yharnam, the only beasts that woke were man at their core. No trees came alive with sweet breezes. Instead, the deadwood of Cainhurst, of Yharnam, seemed to creak and growl with disdain for springtime hopes.
Maria plucked quietly at the frills around her neck, nimble fingers tracing over stray threads before removing them entirely. She was content only because she knew nothing else. Gehrman told her of places with swaying flowerblooms and fruit-heavy trees, but these all seemed false to Maria.
A maid of the estate gave Maria a quiet glance. Maria turned her face away. Annalise once had told her that she was easier to read than a child’s picturebook; the nervous tugs at her clothes, the shifting from foot to foot--Maria was a tell-all without even intending to be. The memory of that particular embarrassment seared Maria’s pale cheeks red. No. This would not do. She could not always be so...cowardly.
Maria’s keen ears picked up the swishing of Annalise’s dresstrain before the Queen approached. To Maria’s credit, she did not squirm. She stood solid and went so far as to dig her boots into the lushly carpeted floor below her. The Estate had a tendency of rearranging itself, often at the whim of its Queen, so Maria prepared for Annalise’s approach to come from elsewhere. Behind her, Maria figured, was most likely of all.
And so it was: Annalise’s voice from behind her, honey-rich, content like a spider which had sucked the life from a wayward worm.
“I see my daughter has decided to honor me with her presence today,” Annalise sneered, her chin lifting. Maria turned to face her full-on, but did not move until after Annalise finished speaking.
“Have you grown tired of cavorting with lowborn men?”
This jab twitched the skin along Maria’s nape, but Maria did not allow her frustration to cross her features. Instead, she cleared her throat.
“I would never do such a thing, Mother. You know this.”
“Do I? I can never be sure with you. It’s always the quiet ones, after all. So pure, until they get the first chance to throw that purity to the wind.”
Annalise’s dress did not move as she slid across the floor towards Maria. The heir did not move. She knew this was another test. Everything Annalise did was a test for her. She claimed, time and again, that these tests were for Maria’s own good, but Maria knew better.
A sharp hiss of breath left Maria, however, as Annalise drifted too close, and smiled with sharp white teeth.
“...I would never, Mother,” Maria said. Her voice did not shake.
“And why is that?”
“Because I am more than some common whore, despite the projections of the family.”
There. Maria watched while a livid undercurrent crept across Annalise’s face. Maria cursed herself internally, but did not let her expression waver. This was dangerous ground. To misspeak would be to be punished, and Annalise enjoyed creativity in her punishments; the last time Maria really rose Annalise’s ire, she had not been permitted to leave her room for some time, and the window had been sealed shut by Annalise’s power over the estate itself. Maria recalled how quickly she had lost track of time.
Her jaw tensed. Her fingertips itched, much as they had when she’d begun to rend the paper off her room’s walls.
“What did you just say?”
Annalise hissed it, her pupils contracting. Maria took a deep breath.
“I said that I intend to keep my purity until marriage, despite what others think of me.”
Her rewording would have to be good enough.
Annalise’s soft hand cupped her chin, and an arm more powerful than anyone could guess lifted Maria’s head up, exposing the curvature of her neck. One finger trailed down Maria’s jugular, pushed at the triangular indent at the base of her neck.
“I see. Maria, do be careful. You speak so ignorantly, sometimes, and you know how temper takes me.”
“...yes, Mother. I apologize.”
“Good. Now, go fetch me something to eat. One of the new stock should do. Unless, of course,” she said with a hand holding Maria’s neck arched out, “you have an alternative solution.”
Maria knew this was a punishment. She could tell by the way Annalise’s eyes searched her own. Maria despised bringing servants for Annalise to feast on, yet the only alternative that would be accepted was her own blood, which she despised as well.
“I have better to offer you than they do, Mother.”
Teeth scraped her throat; twin pinpricks, accompanied by a tightened jaw. Annalise’s grip tightened enough to make Maria bleed. It always did. | 505e2d91d928433fbf5a5440a298e852 | ['88bb684d2dfa471ba0d9b56d77a45217'] | Ain't No Grave (Can Hold My Body Down)
**Author's Note:**
> I'll die mad about what happened to Unohana tbh. I don't really know what's going on with her here. She's some weird soul-revenant or something, idk.
Days pass slow. Forever. They go on, and on, and on, and Isane cannot bear to consider what the others must think of her. They have _all_ lost, by nature of what they are. Shinigami are not creatures given to happy lives. That's just the way of things. On some level, Isane had accepted this before, and she'd understood, even though she hadn't _known_ the truth of it until Kenpachi came back snarling, triumphant, and Retsu--
\--Isane could feel the moment it _happened._ She'd been listening to Soifon grouse about her second, and then there'd been _nothing_ , spiraling between Isane's eyes and blinding her. For three agonizing would-be heartbeats, Isane felt as if she were being unmade, as if every particle of her was being scrounged and scraped out of existence, turned inside out and thrown to the winds, ashes scattering, gone-!
_Unohana-Taichou,_
(Soi Fon doesn't tell Isane, of course, that she did not just think the name, but she screamed it, in a moment of wild agony that tore into Soifon, a reflection of the captain's own losses thrown back at her.)
When it's over, there is business to attend to, and the Soul Society moves on, while Isane grinds to a stop.
Of course, none of her collapse is in public, save for the initial moment, but the others must pick up on it. Isane carries the weight, becomes more protective of her sister, finds herself raising her voice, finds so many things about herself, because she should not have ever had to _grieve,_ especially when Zaraki snarls and smiles like he's some kind of unstoppable _thing_ , and sometimes when she looks at him, Isane finds herself wishing she could dash him to pieces, but if he could take down Unohana then there is no chance for her, none at all.
So she grows, and she quiets, and she does her job, even as the others mourn ( _token mourning,_ Isane thinks) and move on.
Until the night comes where her window slides open, and there are eyes there. Isane jumps up, because she is timid in ways but she is not going to be put down in her own room.
Light focuses.
Smiling eyes wrinkle up in joy.
"There you are," Unohana says, and she shouldn't be there, but she is there and she's very, very real. Isane's fingers curl. Twitch.
"I thought you were-"
"I was," and there's some edge to Unohana's voice that Isane hasn't heard before.
"But not anymore?"
"Not anymore."
Her smile is thin. For a reason Isane cannot place, it makes her think of right angles and knifeblades. Isane eases closer. This must be a trick. It must be.
But Unohana's body feels the same as it always has.
"Retsu," Isane murmurs, a quiet name between them, and Unohana brushes lips against her forehead and whispers _Yachiru_ against her skin. Isane breathes her in.
"Yachiru."
"My real name." Lips brush firmer over skin. Isane cannot believe what she is seeing. Who she is feeling, underneath trembling palms.
Unohana should not be here, and yet she is, with skin that feels just as silk as it always has. Isane grazes her lips and tongue over Unohana's solitary scar; there's the flex of a stronger form underneath her, and Unohana's touch is hungry, desperate. Before Isane can get familiar again, Unohana eases her back and _oh,_ Isane arches up and bites down on her hand because Unohana devours her, a starving woman led to feast. Lips and tongue and fingers and there's a graze of teeth against her thigh, her hip, claiming bites; this is more vicious than anything Unohana has ever given her before and Isane does not think of anything but _feeling_.
This is how it should be.
Isane reaches out, tugs Unohana against her, returns the bites and drags of warmth up chest-collarbone-throat until they're kissing, until Unohana is hissing her name, someone so patient and sweet and kind coming undone under Isane's touch over and over and over again and it is
_perfect._
Unohana whispers against her skin: _come with me - they cannot find us there_
Isane thinks of Soifon for a moment, who must have been given the same choice all those years ago.
They need her, don't they? But Kiyone is strong, and-
"I will," Isane answers before she can think it over too much. She's given everything else over love before. Tables turn. Unohana grazes lips against her throat, and then there is warmth, swelling between Isane's bones. A _tug_ to the deepest part of her spirit. Her vision spins.
"Thank you," Unohana whispers. "Thank you." |
ada44cd643b342c1999715afdd1f612c | ['88beb4ac58b14176aaf299ed1ce41c28'] | Tales From the Fire: The Glassman
The wordburgers vox about the Glassman, the Max Rockatansky from forever away. They say he’s immortan, riding a flaming bug through the waste, practically perfect in every way and immune to the growths. He’s the Max who never gets ill, who always fights for justice, the Max who lives longest.
Always some new warlord want a piece of the Glassman. Maybe for magazine, maybe ‘cause Glassman always has the best spots where it’s warm in the darkest nights, maybe ‘cause what Glassman wants for his people, he keeps.
It’s the same thing gets him every time, the wordburgers say. Glassman meets some strugglers, turns Max for ‘em against the warlords, headhunters and gas-guzzlers. Tries to contract with ‘em, get the guns their pinkslips, make fighters into farmers, make ‘em part of his town.
Works sometimes.
Eventually it don’t.
Then he gotta fight’em and he lets the devil out. It’s all smoke and fire and screaming and the bandits hands-up or ride screaming into the wastes and they say the Glassman cries and cries and cries and his tears go up in smoke like all the bandits what weren’t smart enough to hands-up.
In time it always happens, tho.
In time, warlord gets tired of this big city he can’t have. Gets tired of Glassman playing Max Rockatansky, saying the warlord can’t get his due, saying the warlord’s guns ain’t good, saying the warlord’s stratoplans ain’t good, saying the warlord should dig for water and try to make greengro like some scrabbler, saying he should be Mr. Thumbs-Up like the Glassman.
Eventually warlord gets tired, rounds up a few of the other warlords who want some of that wet and that green and that metal. Eventually warlord sends an army instead of a platoon, sends a seej.
Glassman meets ‘em but there’s only so much he can do. The devil in him goes wilder and burns hotter and hotter and it’s the Burn all over again, straight outta hell through the Glassman’s mouth and there ain’t no army but there ain’t no nothin’ else, neither.
Just the Glassman on a field of glass what used to be sand.
Wordburgers say Glassman, he’s just a myth, just like every other Max. Say there ain’t no way there’s a real Immortan from cross the old wet. Ain’t no way there’s such a thing as a devil from hell with glowy red eyes that sometimes go black. Wordburgers say a lotta shit.
But I seen the sootsmears in the sandglass out there in the waste when I was scavenging. And I seen the rider with the mask on his burning bike hauling ass away from it.
I dunno if he’s going somewhere or just going away from the glass.
But all I know is you find a town that’s too lucky? With a Max workin’ too well?
You run, kid. You get what you need and you find somewhere else.
The Glassman’s real. He means the best. They say he got a heart fulla love for everything that walks or crawls, that he don’t take part in any McFeastin’, that he knows so much about the old world and its wonders. They say he’s the kindest that there ever was and I don’t doubt it. Only a man with a broken heart rides like that.
But when most Max fail, you just lose all your wet, all your greengro, all your steel.
Glassman fails, there’s only glass left.
You watch yourself now. Don’t get too big, don’t get too proud.
Always some wannabe murderist gonna take from you or try to protect you.
And you just can’t trust someone who believes in something more than they believe in stayin’ alive. | 563a5656f22d4f97a714ccf95e7bf800 | ['88beb4ac58b14176aaf299ed1ce41c28'] | Ichijou wondered if he should blame himself for that, for not being as expressive as Godai was, for not being as outwardly kind, for not knowing how to comfort the man when the horror of all the violence would wash over him like a wave and leave him sobbing and clawing at Ichijou’s flesh and howling apologies into Ichijou’s chest as his body temperature went through the roof. If he could have found a way to make Godai understand how much Ichijou loved him.
But he showed it the only way he knew how:
Godai always told him where they could meet next.
And if it was too much for Godai, if he was going to become another Daguva, Ichijou would stop that from happening. He would, at the very least, save Godai’s soul.
2. Part I: Empty
It had been a long time since Godai had felt a call that hard. That first time, it had been the promise of the power to change things, the power to stand between what he’d thought was a monster and the people that monster was hurting. But for all that word, ‘monster’ was the first one his mind went to when he thought of the Grongi, he knew it was a gross oversimplification, one that would lead him to easy, uncomplicated thinking. The spider Grongi, whatever its name, was as human as Godai himself.
The question was not one of nature, he had to keep reminding himself, but one of choice. The Grongi could, at any point, have chosen to be other than what they were.
And yet they had done, just as he could have ignored the call of the Arcle and the Amadam it contained (or, from a certain perspective, imprisoned). He wasn’t especially heroic, he was just the first one to hear it calling or the first one to act on it. Godai had made his choice and while many were the nights he wished he’d made a different one, that someone else had stepped up, that someone else had welcomed the power and the hunger into themselves and freed him from it, that choice was made.
Just as was the choice to heed the call again.
He took a plane this time. The call was insistent instead of coming to him in flashes, more a feeling than a vision. More a beacon promising knowledge than an urging to action. Maybe it would have been faster to just transform again, to run, jump, or swim, to call up his once-faithful (now fearful) servant, Gouram, and ask it to fly him where he was going.
But he hadn’t. Just called Ichijou and Mika and told them he was heading back to the States. Mika sent along a list of souvenirs he could pick up for her and Ichijou just asked if he should be following along. No promises were made to Mika but to Ichijou? He just asked the man to keep an eye on the news. Shiro, Jo, and Kazuma were all spread out in the States and if anything happened, they’d contact him.
Ichijou would know what to do.
Godai loved that about the man; that he always knew what to do. That Godai could count on him for that.
He left the airport hours after he arrived, the passport authority afraid that he was another foreigner looking to steal their American-ness or stay there indefinitely. It had taken a while—and a call to the Japanese embassy in California, where they practically knew him by name—to convince them that he was just one of those frustrating people who just travelled a lot.
A part of him almost wished there’d been a longer delay with the officials because at least when he was busy or waiting, the call was weaker. He was sure if he got himself busy doing something else, he could ignore it and that maybe, eventually, it would go away, just one more bit of weird sensory noise he got through his enhanced senses, one more weird alien call that honed in on the frequency of the strangeness that lived inside him.
On the other hand, he was curious.
He tried to be cautious as well, but the concept of hazard had changed for him since the Arcle and Amadam had made him into Kuuga, changing his body to better suit their needs. The Amadam doing extra work on that front as it tried to change his mind as well.
But he had to let it. That was the unspoken arrangement. He had to accept its logic, its kill-or-be-killed view of everything. He would have to empty himself of compassion and empathy and everything that made him who he was.
He would have to stop regretting the lives he’d taken.
* * *
The locals called the mountain “Ebott”. There was a big tourist trade building up around it even though the mountain itself had been closed off pretty heavily, all of it resulting from some poor, good-hearted kid finding a society of monsters—their word, not Godai’s—underneath it, trapped there by some ancient human curse since prehistory as the monster-folk who had emerged spoke of a great war that had ended when human sorcerers sealed them behind a barrier.
And it was through some weak point in Mt. Ebott that their human savior had appeared to lead them into the sun once again.
And something inside the mountain was what was calling him.
He had to laugh as he walked along the fence that, of course, the second hard-to-resist call would come from inside a mountain. Most of the security was to keep looters or even just the curious from trying to take a piece of the monsters’ homes as some kind of souvenir or keepsake, but also to ensure that the only people who got in were the survey teams who had explored the massive cities underneath the planet’s crust or the anthropological (monstropological?) researchers the monsters’ ruling council and citizenry could agree upon. |
3166124977e144b0bf065f8ffd22c490 | ['88cda62205d1486ebac77296d55838e1'] | The One Fact
Light. That was the first thing he could remember. A light so blinding, his eyes watered from the sheer intensity. And as quickly as it had appeared, the light was gone, replaced by a small room the size of an office cubicle. The walls were an unnatural shade of black, as though not made so by paint, but by an energy of some sort. The room would have been completely dark if not for the glowing white outlines that traced the door and the frame of the room in fanciful designs. Where was he? Why was everything so dark?
His attention was then turned to the cluttered and messy contents of the room, which looked strange against the tidy designs that lit the walls. It seemed to be a storage room of some sort, boxes and old furniture were clustered around him, nearly filling the small space. He finally noticed that he was sitting on a cot, which was surrounded on nearly all sides by boxes, save for a path someone had plowed through the chaos. Did he make that path? He couldn’t remember. How long had he been in here? Where even was here? Had he always been here?
Why did his head hurt so much?
He suddenly felt overcome with a feeling of loss, though he couldn’t fathom what it was he could have lost. His existence had begun mere hours ago, and yet he felt like he had lost a lifetime of memories. Why was that? Who even was he, anyway?
He wouldn’t ever know the answers to these questions, he reasoned, if he stayed in this empty room by himself.
He attempted to stand up, but shakily fell over after a few seconds. It was like he had never stood up before. Had he ever stood up before? He must’ve, because his shoes were coated in scuffs from years of wear. Determined, he took the few steps to the door of the walk-in-closet sized room, only to realize there was no handle, nor did there seem to be one on the other side. How do you even open it, then? Is he trapped in here? Is there even anybody else in this strange place with him? He raised a fist to pound on the door, only to catch his eye on something shiny to his left. There was a full length mirror leaning against the opposite wall, and though it was covered in dust and obviously very old, the glass was clear enough that he noticed something peculiar about himself.
His eyes. They were a bright shade of silver, borderline white, and had an almost glossy sheen. His pupils were sharp and dilated, almost like a cat’s, and were so thin it was somewhat hard to tell that he had pupils at all. His eyes were so strange. Almost inhuman.
That wasn’t all. His clothing, which he had neglected to pay much thought to, was in shambles. He looked like he’d been attacked. What exactly had happened, before he came into existence? Nothing good, he imagined.
The only part of him that seemed in good shape was cap that sat lopsided on his head. He took it off thoughtfully, and stared at the emblem sewed into the front. All it read was “L”.
This frustrated him, if only slightly. Thousands of names started with the letter “L”, how would he ever figure out which one was his?
Staring at the one fact he knew about himself, he finally decided that his name was just “L”. Whatever it used to stand for didn’t matter anymore. That person was gone, and their past no longer mattered to him.
With that, L kicked open the fancy door.
**Author's Note:**
> I just think about Mr. L alot ok | 9ab769ef8c9a47c5a78de6e9c54a9358 | ['88cda62205d1486ebac77296d55838e1'] | How You Choose to Perceive It
On most days, Mimi was a very cheery person. She could light up a room with just her sheer spunk and optimism. But today was not one of those days.
It was early evening, around seven, and Mimi was seated on the roof of Castle Bleck, overlooking the void. For once, her hair was down, and on her figure she wore a dark purple dress that matched the hole in the sky. Her expression was thoughtful, uncharacteristically grim.
She jumped as a voice spoke from behind her. “Lovely void tonight, is it not?”
Mimi whipped around. “..Oh, it’s just you, Dimentio.” She looked back to the void.
The strangely dressed man sat down beside her, turning his attention to the great black hole in the sky. “You seem quite dismayed, mon chér. Is something the matter?”
“N-Not really..” She looked at her shoes. “I’ve just been...thinking.”
“What about?”
Mimi bit her lip. “Do you ever..”
There was a long silence.
“Do you ever wonder if what we’re doing is right?”
“No. Never.” Dimentio said instantly, and with little emotion. Dimentio was deathly certain of everything. Everything he did now he had been planning for hundreds of years. The time for questioning his decisions had long since passed.
Mimi shifted awkwardly. “I mean..what we’re doing is justified, right?” She looked up at the void. “They’ll all thank us later, right? We’re going to create a perfect world.”
Dimentio scoffed audibly at “we”, but put back on his facade of concern. “You seem quite sure of our goals already. What part of this troubles you?”
Mimi didn’t respond for a moment, her eyes glued to the swirling vacuum. “I don’t know.. the void.. It’s just so..” She paused. “Depressing..”
“I suppose it is rather melancholy.” He turned to her. “Is that all?”
“I guess it’s part of it.” She looked at her shoes. “Like..if we really are doing a good deed here, if the “heroes” are actually the real villains… Wouldn’t all of our work look less..villainous?”
Dimentio chuckled lightly. “Ah, you see, mon chér, you are thinking of this as if it is black and white.”
Mimi turned to him, slightly confused.
“In reality, it is all a matter of perception.” Dimentio continued. “The void, us, our plans, are perceived by the heroes as villainous. From their perspective, we are mercilessly wiping away all of existence only to leave nothingness in our wake. From their perspective, the void is what you had just now perceived it to be.”
He turned to her. “But from our perspective, the void and our actions are an act of..how you say..tough love. Not exactly just, per se, but necessary for the greater good. From our perspective, they are the villains, and we are the heroes.”
Mimi looked puzzled. “And what does that mean, exactly?”
“My point is, the void can be perceived as villainous, but it also can be perceived as heroic. It’s nature, however depressing it may be, is irrelevant.” Dimentio looked at Mimi, looking strangely serious. “All that matters is how you choose to perceive it.”
Mimi thought for a moment.
“Then what your saying is that it IS a good thing, right? Because if the heroes are “perceiving” it correctly, i’ll eat my hair tie.”
Dimentio laughed. “I suppose.”
There was a pause.
Mimi scooted closer to Dimentio ever so slightly, giving him a small hug. “Thanks, Dimentio. You’re a real good friend.”
Dimentio froze, going stiff as she wrapped her arms around him.
Mimi cocked an eyebrow. “Are you ok, Dim?”
“Y-Yes..” He sputtered, painting his usual unchanging smile back over his features. “You're a good friend too, Mimi.”
Mimi looked him over, a bit disturbed by his unusual behavior. “Ok..well-”
“I think I best be going!” Dimentio interrupted, standing up suddenly and beginning to levitate away. “I do not want to be late to dinner! Nastasia always gets sour about such things.”
“Wait, Dimen-”
“Ciao!”
He teleported away before she could say anything more.
**Author's Note:**
> smh when your trying to manipulate someone and they make you actually feel something towards them for a moment so you have to haul your ass out of there before you have feelings |
fb167973200f4b9f8768b88bcbb84f84 | ['88d265bdccd14778837416660895d7c9'] | ‘That was three weeks ago’ Clarke had been surprised there were no consequences for her. She had expected the Delinquents to react to the death in some way, but nothing happened. In fact, she had encountered Murphy at the street five days ago and he even greeted her.
‘Well, I’m sorry princess, I had things to do’ Blake scoffs, but there is no malice in his tone.
‘There is no need of this, though. I did it for him, not you.’
‘I know. Can you just accept a gift, uh?’
In spite of herself, Clarke smiles. She’s always been stubborn, but Blake seems to even appreciate it, which isn’t something very common. ‘Thank you, Mr. Blake.’
‘That’s better’ he praises her. A whistle echoes in the landscape before she has the chance to reply, causing the man to stop abruptly and listen. Another whistle, low and long, follows a few seconds later. He touches his cap and turns around. ‘Have a good day, Miss Griffin.’
For a minute, Clarke stands in the middle of the road with a perfume bottle filled with liquor in her cold hands, wondering what just happened.
-
Newspapers talk about gunfire and a girl called Monroe dead on a bank robbery. Later that night Clarke observes from the café’s windows how several Delinquents cross the street towards the bar. They all wear a black cloth tied in their right arms.
They are mourning the girl, she realizes.
-
She’s buying apples when the car stops at her side.
‘Come for a ride, princess’ Blake says. It’s an order, but his soft tone makes it sound almost like an invitation. She wonders about what would happen now if she says no. Her hat collides with the car’s roof the moment she sits. With one hand on the wheel he busies himself into lighting a cigarette as the town starts to become country and the road becomes a dirt path.
‘If you needed medical help you could have asked back at the clinic, Mr. Blake.’
‘You can call me Bellamy, you know. It’s how everyone knows me here. And I’ll do the same if you don’t mind.’
Clarke starts getting alarmed.
‘As a matter of fact, I do mind. And where are we going?’
‘I’ve been asking around, Clarke. You came on the train from Polis. You were at the front. Your behaviour indicates a wealthy upbringing but, here you are, working for Nyko’ he pauses a second, for the sake of dramatism. ‘I wonder if you have some dirty little secret that you don’t want anyone to know.’
Her silence seems to be enough answer.
‘But I am a busy man, and I have things going on, so maybe your mysteries can remain hidden if you help me with something.’
Clarke squeezes her clutch. Anger blooms in her chest.
'Do you want to say something?’ Bellamy asks.
Clarke scoffs.
‘Yes.’
'Of course you want to say something’ he laughs. How this entire situation is just a funny game for him infuriates her.
'I’m not a whore.’
'I’m sure about that. You coming, then?’
'Have I got any choice?’
He smiles as the car stops outside a big old house. ‘Not really, princess.’
What he wants her to do is check on the girls of the brothel. They have little money to spare with medical issues, and Nyko adamantly refused to visit them because it would mean getting involved in a gang war he is desperately trying to avoid.
The Delinquents aren’t the owners of the house (‘Not our kind of business’ Bellamy answers when she asks) but the women inside are friends or family with the gang, and they take care of them whenever they can.
Clarke finds herself conflicted about refusing to help: she knows Nyko won’t like it and will fire her if he knows, but she wants to do something. And keep her secrets buried where they are, too.
So she takes off her hat and coat and puts on a pair of gloves.
Bellamy smiles.
-
Two weeks later, everything changes.
Clarke notices the man’s gaze the instant she crosses the door of the pub. She stares back a little too long for him not to notice, and a feral smile appears in his face. It brings memories.
He stands up and Clarke walks to the door, towards the street, running the moment the door closes behind her.
But he’s fast and with a hard movement pushes her to the dark alley near the clinic.
‘Little bitch’ Emerson’s arms are around her neck and she’s starting to feel dizzy because of the pressure ‘You thought I wouldn’t find you? You thought you would be able to hide from me?’
He lets her go and Clarke gasps for air before spinning around and trying to run.
The man’s hands catch her hair and pull back so hard it hurts.
‘I’ve been looking for you for a long time, you murderer. I will now avenge my sons, don’t think you are going anywhere.’
Emerson makes the mistake of not taking her purse away. There is a small gun hidden there and its cold surface is so smooth it almost falls from her hand while she points it to her own arm.
The trigger gets pulled, and blood splashes on the wall.
-
It’s Octavia who answers the door. Clarke stands there, covered in blood under the faint yellow light of the gas streetlight.
‘I would like to speak with your brother, please.’
The dark haired girl looks at her up and down.
‘What did you got yourself into, nurse?’ she asks nonchalantly.
‘A mess’ Clarke answers truthfully.
Octavia nods.
‘Come in. And wait here.’
She hears hurried whispers upstairs before Bellamy comes down striding.
‘Princess, is that blood yours?’ | d97264a8fa934b099efb0db06628cf15 | ['88d265bdccd14778837416660895d7c9'] |
If you need forgiveness I'll give that to you
**Author's Note:**
> If you can't stand Becho this is not for you. I want everything that makes Bellamy happy. And Bellarke too. All the angst, if it is possible. Maybe I ask too much. I also want the Reyes/Blake friendship to be really strong.
If there is _one_ universal truth in this existential plane they are currently living is this: Raven Reyes is not stupid. She is, in fact, quite the _opposite_ of stupid.
So the first time she sees Echo smile while walking the corridor, she knows something is happening.
Is not that Echo doesn't smile. She has a very small lip quirk and sometimes even snorts when something is funny for her, but those are rare. The former warrior lived under the pressure of a culture that doomed any kind of relationship not based on fear, and it's difficult for her getting used to the older Ark way of living. Not that it was much better, but, well. At least they were allowed to smile.
The Ice Nation spy had been understandably shocked at the beginning with the public displays of affection the rest of them had. Raven would hug Bellamy more than once, Harper and Monty kissed, Murphy and Emori even played like children sometimes. Raven herself bickered affectionately with Murphy at least twice per day, Harper and Bellamy had long conversations about the rest of the 100, Monty and Emori bonded about code programming (she found it fascinating).
And they made room for Echo too. Asked her to train them so their muscles won't get too thin and encouraged the woman to find something in the ship she would like to learn or do. It was a rough first year, and then a smoother second year and, finally, a good third year. By fourth year they all had become kind of a true little family. But one thing is Echo being finally comfortably around them to laugh at a joke or make a funny remark and another one is that smile.
So she is fully on alert the next hours and then she sees Bellamy's loopsided smile and every light in her brain goes red and screams.
_No. Way_.
Okay Reyes, calm down a bit you lunatic, she scolds herself. Maybe there is a rational explanation for this. Maybe those two _extremely_ suspicious smiles aren't connected. Maybe you are overreacting. Maybe the Earth doesn't orbit around the Sun.
Yeah, right. _Fuck_.
She composes herself long enough to wait until Bellamy ends his shift on the monitoring room and waits for him on the corridor.
'Hey, Bellamy'.
He turns and looks at her and- he is still smiling. Raven is going to _kill him_.
'Do you have a minute? I want to show you something'.
'Yeah, of course. Is something wrong with the engines?' he asks while she gestures towards the engineering room 'Because you know I have no idea about-'
'Yeah, I fucking know you have no idea!' she practically screams the second the door closes after them. This area has reinforced walls and is absolutely impossible the rest of the group listens to any word they might say. 'Are you out of your mind, Blake? I thought you stopped thinking with your dick a long time ago!'
He seems astonished for a minute and Raven starts panicking internally. Could she be wrong? But Bellamy opens his mouth and asks
'How?' and she finds herself almost surprised of how clever she can be.
'You were grinning like idiots. Like, Echo could have provided us with light this morning alone with her stupid bright smile. God, Bellamy, I had the smallest amount of faith in you telling me I was crazy' Raven puts the palms of her hands in her eyes, the motion desperate.
'I just- it was not a planned thing. It just happened'.
It’s all so absurd Raven feels like screaming at the top of her lungs.
' _Really_? Have you got any idea of what this stupid act could make to our group? Just because you couldn't keep it in your pants!'
'I kept it in my pants, Raven' Bellamy interrupts, serious, almost menancingly. 'We just talked. And she kissed me. And I felt _nice_ '.
Raven stares at him, dumbfounded.
‘What?’
‘I felt like-Nice. Loved. _Alive_ ’.
‘Do you even hear yourself, Bellamy? You are making no sense! You are going to break us after all this time!’
‘Why are you so upset? Am I not allowed to move on?’ Bellamy asks, and Raven can feel how hurt he is. Suddenly she is not able to understand where all this rage comes from. All Raven knows is that somehow, they are betraying... What?
A memory?
There is a minute of silence in which Raven breathes and finally calms down a bit. They are both more relaxed now, shoulder to shoulder, backs on the metal wall.
'Sorry. Bellamy I just...'
'You just don't understand how can I feel nice with Echo kissing me. Because of-' his voice wavers for a second 'because of Clarke'.
Raven feels uncharacteristic tears prick in her eyes. She looks into his eyes and sees the same pain, the same longing, the same self-blame she saw five years ago. The image of Clarke, as clear as water at the beginning, is now starting to fade in her brain. She had to search her profile picture into the Ark database a year ago to remember Clarke used to have a mole upon her lips.
Raven cried a whole week after that day.
And she knows Bellamy cries sometimes for her, too. She knows he cries for entirely different reasons. Which is why none of this makes any sense.
'Yes' she finally concedes, a lump in her throat. 'You never said but all of us knew. You loved her’. |
dcce293c50c847618cc967b093b9c7c8 | ['891315fec1cf48dc9e6f36acb9032f01'] | “No one was supposed to know, not even Cosima. I’m glad she did though, she helped me through so much. It’s difficult to not having here here with me, but, for the record, I’m going to be fine. I have you, the gang, my maman, my psychiatrist. It’s okay, you don’t need to mother me or walk-” Sarah’s phone starts ringing. I already know how this is going to turn out
“Yeah, I know. Okay. Right… Bye” She hangs up and I’m already up
“Come on, I’ll give you a ride”
“How did you know?”
“I'm used to it”
The ride back to their house was spent with Sarah trying to reassure me everything would be okay while I kept thinking about one thing: Cosima. She was acting so strange towards the end. The end. How weird is it for me to say that? Very. Anyways, she’s had anxiety attacks lately, she hasn’t been fine, maybe that’s why she did everything. My thoughts continued until we got there and Sarah was ready to step out of the car.
“Sarah, wait!” She turned back to me “Thank you so much for being there for me”
“No worries”
“But I think Cosima needs you more right now and I won’t be mad if you stay by her side. She’s not okay, Sarah. Well, at least I think so. I’ll be fine, don’t worry”
“Delphine, I don’t pick sides. We are all one big fucked up family, I promise you I’ll try to help her, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help you too. We are in this shite together”
“Thank you. For everything”
“Call me if you need anything!”
**Author's Note:**
> Let me know what you think about this so far and if you have any suggestions. Thanks for reading! | de0b42a7a29f47269654a84d4b315c3d | ['891315fec1cf48dc9e6f36acb9032f01'] | “It is! Dammit! I like Shay and she likes me back. I'm single. She's single. Why do you have to complicate everything? Do you want me to just sit around you and give you all my attention all the time? Why don't you just lock me in your house to have me all to yourself?” I felt tears gather in my eyer
“Putain de merde, Cosima! I didn't say any of that! Stop putting words in my mouth!”
“Then stop saying shit about Shay and I!”
“Whatever, I'm going home. If you find my best friend, tell her to give me a call” With that I stormed out and cried on my way home.
As I got there I saw the lights on, which was odd because my mom was at work so I typed 911 in my phone and got my umbrella in case I needed to defend myself. I opened the door slowly and took a look inside just to find my mom sitting in the couch.
“Maman? What are you doing home?” I got her attention
“Oh, hi!” She looked at me from head to toe “Were you planning on hitting me with that umbrella?”
“Non, I thought someone broke in. I thought you were working tonight. I would've stayed in with you if I knew” I sat beside her
“That's okay chérie” She kissed my forehead “Are you crying because you got scared or did something happen at Cosima's?”
“What? How did y-”
“Come on sweetie, you have been inseparable. I just figured. Are you going to tell me what happened?”
“Um, it's nothing”
“You don't need to talk to me if you don't want to, but you know I give some good advices”
“Oui, I know” I stopped to think “Well, okay. Cosima's ex is in town and she's different around her and completely complacent even when being humiliated. So I told everyone I was going home, but she went after me and we argued” I started tearing up again
“Oh, mon coeur. These things happen. It's just a fight, she'll come around” She embraced me and caressed my back
“She won't, maman. She's not the Cosima I know. I lost her” I sobbed
“Del, she just needs to open her eyes remember who she is. Besides, this ex of hers isn't going to be here for long, is she?”
“Non, she goes back in a few days”
“So? Just give it time. Once she gets her head out of her ass, she'll see you are here for her. And if she doesn't maybe she doesn't deserve being your friend after all. Or maybe you'll just have to try to talk to her to give her a little push to see the light”
“I don't know, maman. I really don't. I miss her”
“I know you do, honey” She sighed “Can I ask you a question? You don't have to answer if you feel uncomfortable, but maybe you can think about it”
“Um, yes?”
“Do you like Cosima?”
“Duh, of course I do. She's my best friend and has been helping me through a lot”
“Non, I meant like like her”
“Well” I inhaled sharply “I don't want to talk about it”
“That's okay sweetie. You have time to figure it all out. You know I love you no matter what, right? But, if you do like her, tell her. I think you'd be surprised with the results of that” She smirked
“I'll think about it. I'm going to bed now, thanks for the talk. Good night, maman. Je t'aime” I rose from the couch and kissed her cheek
“Je t'aime aussi, mon bébé”
10. Farewell
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Another day, another chapter. I'm on vacation now so I'll try to post more than once a week. Thank you for the reviews, kudos and support!
The next day I completely lost track of time. I buried myself in books and I probably would've forgotten to eat if my mom wasn't there. I hadn't heard from Cosima the whole day, so it was good to distract myself. Though one would think this was a terrible way to spend your Saturday, it was what I needed.
After I finished reading the books I got from the library that week, I started to look for another one. It was late, but I knew if I went to bed I wouldn't stop thinking about her. I kept searching my room only to find out I've read everything I owned, except one that I did read in the past, but haven't finished last time. It was “Le Petit Prince”. I couldn't help but smile at the memories it brought back. Even though I went through hell, Cosima's support meant a lot to me. She was always so caring and unique. I wondered what happened to her that week. I didn't recognize her. I cried at the thought of losing her friendship forever for hours. I laid in my bed, but couldn't sleep tormented by my own mind. It was 1 am when I heard my phone ringing. It was her.
“Cosima?” I heard sobs and music on the background
“I'm sorry, Del. I'm so sorry. I missed you”
“Cosima, are you drunk?”
“Yeah, I'm sorry about that too. I shouldn't have called” She cried harder
“Where are you? Are you okay? Are you safe?”
“I don't know”
“That's it, I'm going to pick you up. Send me your location”
“Delphine, you don't need-”
“This is not up for discussion, Cosima. Send it to me and I'll be there as soon as I can”
“Okay” She sent it to me “Del?”
“What?”
“Thank you… And I'm sorry”
“It's okay, Cos. I'm leaving right now, I'll be there in 30”
I drove as fast as I could to get there. When I arrived I saw a house full of people with loud music and Cosima sitting in a bench a little further down the street. |
7f52a276bac148b38891601fff25c827 | ['89198e51c91f4c9882e3cb4271fed1a9'] | Dan wanted to say it a long time ago. But he didn't know how. Every time he looked at Phil. Every time he saw his cute smile and his beautiful blue eyes. Every morning they spend cuddling he wanted to scream how much he loved him. They were together just few months, but Dan knew Phil was his whole world. And he wanted Phil to know that too.
So one day when they were cuddling on the sofa, watching anime and eating breakfast Dan blurred it out. It wasn't some long speech about their whole relationship, it was just simple I love you.
"I love you."
Phil looked down at him and before he could say anything Dan started talking again.
"You don't have to say it back if you don't want to. I know we are together just few months but I love you. And I want you to know that."
Phil didn't know what to say. He knew the time he spend with Dan was the best time of his life, but he was still scared to say that. He just leaned down and kissed him. He loves their kisses. He had boyfriends before but with Dan it was something completely different. Their kisses were always so truthful and full of love. They were kissing for a while and then they got back to watching anime.
* * *
Few days past but Phil was still thinking about what Dan said. Phil knew he loved Dan too and now he was just waiting for the right moment to say that. Now they were lying in Phil's bed - well, their bed because now they spend most of the time there - cuddling and exchanging kisses. Every time Phil saw him, he fell in love with him even more. Especially in the morning when his hair was still curly, and he just looked so peaceful. He could look at Dan all day like this. Luckily they didn't plan going outside today so Dan didn't do anything with it. Phil wanted to say something, but when he looked at Dan he was getting out of bed.
"Hey where are you going?"
"I'm just going to make breakfast. You should get out of there too already."
"Yeah, I'm going."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I will find some anime to watch while you make coffee."
"Okay."
Dan left and Phil was sitting on the bed thinking about what to do. 'Well maybe next time.' Phil thought.
* * *
Few days later Dan woke up not feeling very good. His had hurt really bad and he could barely move. Then Dan noticed that Phil wasn't next to him. He probably woke up early and went to make breakfast. So Dan closed his eyes and tried to sleep again, but he couldn't. After few minutes he heard the door open. When Phil saw him, he immediately knew he was sick.
"Good morning. How are you feeling?"
"Good morning. I'm not feeling very good. I think I'm sick."
"Hold on, I'm gonna bring you tissues and make you some tea. I'll be right back."
Phil was quickly back with box of tissues in one hand and a big cup of tea in the other. He put it on the bedside table and started climbing to bed.
"No Phil... you will be sick. Who will take care of us if we will be both sick?"
"Don't worry, I'll be fine."
"Okay, come here."
Phil climbed in the bed and curled next to Dan. Then Dan gently put his had on Phil's chest and closed his eyes again. He knew now he will sleep really good. Just before he fell asleep he heard Phil say
"I love you"
"I know"
The next day Phil woke up sick.
**Author's Note:**
> Okay so here is my first fanfic ever (yay!), I know it's probably really bad, but hey at least I tried... | 7bc6ea5322404514b1e7841b0394c353 | ['89198e51c91f4c9882e3cb4271fed1a9'] |
_Phil was running. He didn't know how long and he didn't know where he was going, but he knew he had to run. They were right behind him. And he had to get away. He didn't know who they were, but he knew he had to get away from them. Then he saw an old, abandoned building so he came in. He quickly locked the door and ran away. But the door didn't stop them. He ran into the first room and closed the door. This time he knew it won't stop them so he started looking for another way out. But the room was empty. There wasn't anything just one window. He looked out and saw he wasn't very high. So he decided to jump out. He climbed out, but before he jumped, he saw someone in the next building. He didn't know who was that. He just saw a silhouette. But he could see it's a boy. He was also climbing out of the window. Then he stopped and for a moment they were just looking at each other. Then they looked away and the boy jumped. Phil jumped too and he was falling and falling and falling..._
And then he woke up. He was in his room lying in his bed. He looked at his phone and saw it was just 3 am. Again. This happened already third night in a row. He didn't know what that dream meant, but he knew the silhouette in his dream was his soulmate. He didn't know who that was, but he could tell it was a boy. He was't surprised because he knew he's gay for a long time. But why did he saw him now? He wasn't there before. Phil knew there wasn't any point in thinking about this at 3 am so he tried to sleep again, but he already knew he won't fall asleep again.
* * *
Dan woke up in his bed and thanks to the dream and the fact that was still dark he was really scared. But he was also excited. He just saw his soulmate for the first time! He wanted to call his friend Pj and tell him about it. Pj found his soulmate Chris a few months ago and from that moment they were inseparable. Dan wanted something like that. Someone who could be there for him every time he was sad, happy or just when he wanted someone to cuddle with, but especially someone who would love him. Before this night he didn't think there's someone for him. Not everybody gets a soulmate and Dan always thought he is one of those unlucky people. But this night proved him wrong. He took his phone but then saw it was just 3 am so he decided not to call Pj because he would probably kill him if he woke him up in the middle if the night. So Dan lied back to bed and tried to sleep again.
Dan wasn't surprised that he didn't sleep at all but morning came faster than he thought. He couldn't wait to get to school - he never thought he would say something like that - and tell Pj and Phil about his dream. And about his soulmate. He quickly took shower, ate breakfast as fast as he possibly could and ran to school. He didn't even care what he was wearing and that was very important thing for Dan. But not today. Today he just grabbed the first skinny jeans and black shirt he found. When he came to school he saw Pj and Phil talking about something but then Phil left before Dan could come any closer. Pj turned around and saw Dan was coming.
"Hi Dan, why are you so excited?"
"Oh my God Pj you won't believe what happened! Where's Phil?"
"Ehm.. He had to go, didn't do his math homework so he needs to do it now. What happened?"
"I'm so happy oh my God I can't even- I can't- I just can't"
"Okay Dan calm down! I'm listening to you now tell me what happened."
"Well tonight I had this very strange dream, someone was chasing me and then I jumped out the window bot that's now important! The important part is that i saw my SOULMATE! I'm so happy! I always thought i won't find a soulmate but now I saw him! I can't believe it!I actually have a soulmate! Oh my God I- I can't even think now! How am I gonna find him? Oh God what if I won't find him?! Pj what do I do?"
"Phil! Okay first of all you need to calm down! Just relax for a moment and then-"
"Yeah I need to calm down. Okay I have biology first, that's okay class I can just think about it in school. We should really go now."
"wa-" Pj didn't have time to say anything and Dan was already gone.
5 minutes ago
_When Phil came to school he immediately bumped to Pj._
_"Hey Phil- wow did you sleep at all this night?"_
_"Yeah, but I woke up at like 3 am."_
_"Did you have that dream again?"_
_"Yeah but..."_
_"But what?"_
_"I- I think i saw my soulmate tonight."_
_"What? Really? That's awesome!"_
_"Yeah...."_
_"What? Why are you so sad?"_
_"What if I never find him? What if i will know he's there somewhere but we will never meet?"_
_"Oh my God Phil! Why are you so pessimistic all the time? Of course you will find him!"_
_"Yeah.. I have to go now, I need to do my math homework before class."_
_"Okay bye"_
_"Bye"_
"This is going to be so much fun!" Pj said to himself as he watched Dan leave.
* * * |
f9f6e169ffac42158fcaad8ef983f190 | ['892e62646a1e43938bb95d664d872534'] | The Aegis's Knight
**INFORMATION**
Name: Y/N, L/N.
Age: 19 years.
LINK
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(Imagine the wings are purple.)
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Likes: Fighting, Joking, pranking people, etc.
Hates: Dishonesty (from Pyra and Mythra), Selfish people, People working for others while corrupted, people lying to him, etc.
Powers and abilities: You can create Swords, arrows , bows, polearms (Scythes, tridents, spears) , shields, armours, and weapons of all shapes and sizes in your human form. Any weapons you create has special abilities, like the polearms can fire magic and energy blasts, the swords can nullify regenerative and healing abilities and absorb magic and ether, the arrows after being fired, can multiply infinitely and turn anyone it strikes into dust. You can also fly at speeds _Centillions_ of times faster then light, physically as strong as saitama, and can warp reality to a much higher extent then Pneuma. You can also use the abilities of all gold, silver and bronze saints in saint seiya.
Other abilities:
LINK
Basically, it releases a giant blast of wind which blows away even titans. It also LINK any powers, including the powers of both the aegis and their artifaces. It could completely annihilate artiface aion.
Most commonly used Pokemon moves:
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1. Prologue-1
**Author's Note:**
* Inspired by LINK by tsukishima7.
* Inspired by LINK by LINK.
> Oh...hi everyone. I am a hardcore Saitama fan. Now...first of all, it is the first time writing a story, so if you see a grammatic spelling error PLEASE don't hesitate to tell me. I am an amature writer and i learn from my mistakes. Also this story of mine is to some extent inspired by tsukishima7's story in fanfiction.net, title as "One punch rex". Also..the settings are in Saitama's world.
**OPENING**
(All credits for the lyrics goes to Jonathan Young in Youtube. I have not made the lyrics.)
ONE PUUUUUUUCH!!!!!!!!
3! 2! 1! KILLSHOT!
I am here, for fun,
I am NUMBER ONE!
(What are you saying? Frustration! NOBODY CAN STOP ME!)
ONE PUNCH! THAT'S IT! I ALWAYS WIN!
)LISTEN TO ME! VICTORY AGAIN!)
Power...get the POWER!
Last minute limit counting
3
2
1
HERO!
I don't want to hear you calling out my name!
I am not her for fortune or fame.
HERO!
Instead....
I'LL FIGHT KNOWING NOBODY KNOWS MY NAME!
(NOBODY KNOWS WHO HE IS!)
Push on, my foes are closing in and covering the sky,
But i won't turn my back on them tonight,
HERO!
Till i taste the dirt of defeat someday...
UNLEASH MY FIST-HEROOOOOOOOOOOOO!
HEROOOOOO!!!!!!
(AH! AH! AH! AH!)
I WANNA BE THE STRONGEST HEROOO!
\----------------------------
FLASHBACK
_It was just another day for Rex. As he was getting ready for School-_
_"Rex? Hurry up or you will be late!"-A gentle , but demanding voice shouted out. Rex sighed. Aunt Corinne was strict when she needed to be, but she was usually gentle most of the times. Rex, obviously liked her gentle side a lot more, but still he enjoyed seeing aunt Corinne act strict sometimes._
_"Uh-yes!"-He immediately yelled and ran out of the house. Instead of taking a bus, he enjoyed walking instead. Rex usually enjoyed the surroundings while walking from home to School and from school to home while the other students enjoyed taking the Bus. No wonder he had to be up early._
_As Rex reached the School, he settled down on a wooden chair. He was 15, grade 11. His parents were dead since he was six months old, so he knew nothing about his family history. He lived with his aunt Corinne and his grandfather whom he affectionately called Gramps. Right now, he had to choose a courier now. As the School was over and he was getting ready to leave the school, suddenly-_
_"Hey kid, throw your bag off now!"-A masculine, bullish voice shouted. A voice Rex didn't like at all._
It was Guro, the biggest school bully. He is infamous for ragging, bullying and beating up smaller kids. He enjoyed ganging up on people and stealing their lunch money. Also sometimes beating up boys in front of their girlfriends. Basically a school boy's worst nightmare.
And Rex was his target today.
_However, even despite seeing the big bully with two other big guys, Rex was unintimidated. He was, rather looking forward to a fight. He simply smirked.
"And if i say no?" Rex asked with a blank face._
_"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" Guro barked, grabbing Rex up by his collar.
"yeah! Kid, you would be sorry to challenge Guro!"-One of Guro's sidekick said._
_"Look...punk, this could go two ways. One...you run away. Two.." Rex turned his face away from guro as he said.."I walk on your face." (Getting the reference?)
At this, Guro and his sidekicks were surprised for a split second. Suddenly they burst out laughing._
_Rex smirked."Your wish." Suddenly , without warning, Rex performed a backwards somersault, slamming his heavy shoes at Guro's face in the process and knocking him away, before expertly landing on his feet. Guro gasped, Rex's kicked had drawn blood from his nose. Enraged, Guro charged at Rex, only for Rex to duck down and dodge his punch before.....hitting as hard as he could. At his nuts._
_"AHHHH!" Guro screamed in pain. Seeing the vunerable bully who had let his guard down, Rex went and punch Guro hard on the face, knocking the bully out cold. His two sidekicks were also surprised-this was the first time they were attacked- and were open. Seeing the opening, Rex kicked the first sidekick on his face, sending him to the ground. Rex then sat down and does a spinning kick, causing the second sidekick to lose balence and fall facefirst on the ground. The two livid sidekicks got up and tried to ambush Rex by attacking him from both sides, But Rex moved behind at the right moment and the two slammed into each other instead. Seeing the opportunity, Rex grabbed both their heads by their hair and slammed their heads together, knocking them out._
_"And that's-why" Rex began in tirumph-"You don't underestimate those smaller then you.". It was true. Rex was barely 5'1 while the bullies were over 6'0._
_Unknown to Rex, the school's principal- Vandham was watching Rex. Vandham was a kung-fu champion himself and he was sad to see the bullies beating up little kids. However, seeing the BULLIES being beaten up was nice....for the change. Smirking, he waited till Rex left the School, and began to follow him until no one else was on sight._
_"Hey kid.." Turning around , rex saw his principal smiling at him. "Yes, sir....?" Rex asked. Despite the principal himself looking nothing better then a bully, Rex knew not to judge a book by it's cover._
"I must say i am pretty impressed, you are the first kid to beat up those bullies, and i like your attitude." Vandham said with a smile.
"Thank you , sir" Rex smiled, grateful that the principal was not going to punish him. "oh, by the way...." Vandham began "i would be suspending those boys now."
_"That would be great sir." Rex said, as he was happy for the other kids in the school._
"say, Rex..." Vandham began. |
57d19db632d54257989d7bf237b23c7b | ['89331f186b9d437d9a352d1f08297f88'] | Jim’s kisses weren’t gentle. The ones for Oswald weren’t at least. His body was completely pressed at Oswald’s, pushing him more and more against the brick wall. They were in the alley behind the bar. The bathroom would have been far too more obvious, right? People could enter, or have been there already. Though it wasn’t likely if they had thought much about it.
He heard how Jim undid the zip of his pants, how he unbuckled his belt. His suit’s jacket was on the floor of the alley. It would get dirty. Oswald’s mom hated dirty clothes. Those times when he was young, when he attempted to play in the park with other kids and muddied his clothes in the process, his mother screamed at him when he came home. She had hit him, many times, reproached him with her gaze. So Oswald hated dirty clothes as well.
Despise their heavy breathing they were in silence most of the time. They didn’t talk with each other while doing it. They just kept going. Jim wasn’t even looking at him. His eyes were lost in the brick wall behind him, or closing strongly while panting.
Jim unfastened his pants, and Oswald found himself trembling with expectation. Suddenly it occurred to him that he should unbutton his pants too, so he tried, with his hands shaking a little, feeling something heavy in his guts. It was this sensation that he suspected Jim was feeling too. The one they both had felt in his apartment, the fear and excitement of entering in a banned way, a danger zone. Jim held Oswald’s hands with one of his own then and with the other one he made a path across Oswald’s hip towards his thigh. He couldn’t avoid a moan when Jim put one of his legs between his and pressed.
‘Why do I think so much about you lately?’ It was the first thing Jim said to him. Oswald didn’t know how to respond. It was a strange statement, one that confused him. But apparently Jim wasn’t looking for an answer to his question. He had pulled down Oswald’s pants, and he played briefly with the waistband of his underwear, like wavering between doing something or not. Oswald looked at him, and he could see the beginning of his torso across his disheveled shirt and his untidy tie. In his neck Oswald could see his erratic pulse. He would have liked to put a hand to there, feel it accelerating, make some harmless pressure there, maybe. But he didn’t. It was a bad idea, erased from his mind once he felt Jim’s hand moving between his legs, making him shiver. They were moving against each other faster, wanting, and when their cocks started to rub against each other Oswald’s first instinct was to put a hand between them and stroke.
Oswald remembered then his contemplations from some hours ago: Jim Gordon and the game, the idea of losing. Losing because of desire. Losing because of James who was such good man, such a right man. The only one in Gotham really trying to do something. It was admirable somehow though Oswald may have found it like a foolish dream, having lived in the city all his life. Either way, he wasn’t able to think sanely right now, he was gasping, moaning, and his mind was somewhere else, somewhere else besides the success he wanted, the respect and the power, somewhere else besides the mocks, the laughs around him, the people watching him from above, the shame he used to feel. He didn’t care about those things anymore. He didn’t want to care. He couldn’t with Jim Gordon’s hips bucking against his own, with Jim Gordon’s hands on his sides, stomach and waist. He couldn’t.
***
Having Cobblepot against the wall, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, Jim couldn’t avoid looking at his pale face, his black eyes looking at him from above. He was short, Jim had noticed, or maybe he was just leaning too much against the brick wall. He was sweet, somehow. Like a child in a man’s body. An evil one, though. Jim kissed him. He didn’t know why. He had done it too that time in his apartment, he had done it several times, on the mouth, neck and shoulders. He did the same with Barbara most of the time, but somehow this was different. Right now he couldn’t recognize himself. He was moving faster, touching faster and without thinking. He wasn’t talking, he didn’t know what to say, the words were stuck in his mind without coming out. He could have told Oswald how bizarre this was, how from time to time he dreamed about him, how he liked his smile or how he found his trembling lips and his wide eyes looking at him sweet. He could have told him that this was wrong, that they should stop. He could have tried to explain how very excited he was right now. But the only thing that managed to came out of his mouth was a question: ‘Why do I think so much about you lately?’ His voice was like a whisper, like if he was in the middle of a marathon. His heart was beating. He could feel it in his chest like a hammer. | b1296c22440c4f588f3e64744ca9f885 | ['89331f186b9d437d9a352d1f08297f88'] | _I don’t care,_ was Wrench answer. _Finish your soup_ , he added eating the chinese food he have bring in the first place.
_It’s horrible_ Numbers respond taking the soup again.
_Make your own soup then_ , Wrench sign. He was upset. Very upset, Numbers realized (and of course not for the comment of the soup). Maybe it was better for him just to finish the soup and go to sleep. With enough luck, next day in the mourning he will feel better.
Numbers didn’t finished the soup, a wave of general malaise took him before he could. He was unable to eat more so instead he preferred to turn on the TV for make noise while he was sleeping.
After a while he fall sleep.
Wrench didn’t.
3. Chapter 3
Numbers sat down in the chair of the café looking tired. Wrench at the other side of the table, was looking at him with his eyes fixed. Numbers tried to ignore him, using the menu like a shield in front of his face, but it seemed useless. Let’s see, Numbers thought, there was eggs, toasts, french toast, pancakes, sandwiches, omelet, coffee, orange juice, apple juice, green tea, black tea, hot chocolate (who takes chocolate for breakfast?) and…, god, this was useless. Numbers put down the menu to look back at Wrench and he raised his arms shrugging.
‘ _What?’_ he asked.
Wrench responded pointing at him, accusingly.
‘ _It was stupid from you to hide the problem with your wound’_ he signs.
Numbers growled in frustration, hiding his face in one of his hands.
‘ _I said I was sorry, when are you going to get over it?’_ Numbers respond.
At that, Wrench just stayed still, maybe thinking in something to say. Suddenly he put a hand in the table, angry.
‘ _I’m not going to get over it, you…’_
But then a woman pass with their children beside them and even if they couldn’t really understand them, both Number and Wrench stayed quiet for a brief moment. Numbers sighed, playing with the sail in the table. Wrench stopped looking at him.
_‘How is the fever?’_ Wrench asked suddenly.
‘ _I walked over to here, didn’t I?_ ’ Numbers respond. Apparently that meant that he was okay, but still he cleaned the fever’s sweat in his neck occasionally, and his face was still very pale.
‘What do you want to order, guys?’ a waitress asked them unexpectedly, playing with the pencil in her hand.
‘Ah, yeah, mm,’ Numbers babble looking at the menu again. ‘Well, I’m going to order toast with eggs and for my friend…’ Numbers glanced at Wrench for a moment, then back to the waitress, ‘bring him some lingonberry pancakes, please…’
The waitress frowned, confused, ‘lingonberry?’ she asked.
‘Yes, lingonberrys, it’s…it’s like crawberry’ Numbers clarified.
‘Okay,’ the waitress said, writing the order in her notebook, ‘and for drink?’
‘An orange juice and two coffees, please’ Numbers responded and glanced at Wrench who was looking at him with discrepant eyes. Numbers wanted to stab him. ‘No, nevermind about the second coffee,’ he said, ‘bring a glace of milk.’
Again, the waitress frowned, ‘A glace of milk?’ she asked again.
Numbers sighed, ‘yes, a glace of warm milk.’
The waitress blinked, ‘okay,’ she said, writing in the notebook.
‘ _Happy now?’_ Numbers sign when the girl disappeared.
Wrench nodded with his head, smiling at the view of the waitress face walking towards the kitchen.
‘ _Don’t lie to me’_ Numbers sign, almost tempted to laugh, ‘ _you ask those things every time we eat out just for see the look in other people’s faces._ ’
Wrench couldn’t avoid made that visceral laughter to which Numbers was already accustomed. ‘ _Yeah, maybe’_ he sign.
***
‘ _You need antibiotics’_ Wrench sing after a moment of contemplation. Numbers, with his shirt pulled up, was standing beside the bed, the bandage of the wound in his hand.
‘ _What? No, I don’t need them’_ he said releasing his shirt.
‘ _Yes, you need them,’_ Wrench responded. The wound, despite have been disinfected, was still red and with swelling. _‘This is not going to “heal itself” as you think’_ Wrench sigh, emphasizing the quotes with his fingers.
‘ _And where are we going to find antibiotics?_ ’ Numbers sigh sitting in the bed. It was more like a trick question. He was feeling tired, very, very tired. Maybe the fever was coming back, he through. The only thing he wanted now was to lie down and sleep. He let himself fall in the bed, putting his forearms above his eyes. But the sensation of feeling observed made him open his eyes again. He looked up at Wrench, who was standing there in front of the bed like waiting for an answer. Perhaps he have asked something while he was distracted. ‘ _Sorry, what?’_ he asked.
‘ _I asked you if you had received any message from Fargo_ ,’ Wrench repeated, sitting in the armchair.
Numbers sighed. ‘ _No, I asked in the reception and nothing._ ’ He seemed disappointed, they haven’t had a job since that one with the lawyer (and they have fucked up that one).
Then, after a quiet moment Wrench sign, ‘ _We should go to the hospital.’_ He was doubtful, like if he already knew that the proposition was going to cause a disaster.
Numbers removed his forearms from his eyes and he relied on his elbows on the bed. He took a brief moment to look at his friend and then he sign, ‘ _Are you crazy?’_
Numbers sat back down to look at him. ‘ _I…,_ we _cannot go to the hospital. We are hitmen, people hire us to kill other people,_ ’ he emphasized his words pretending to have a knife in his hand and stabbing the air. ‘ _How the fucks are we going to explain why I have a shot in my side?’_ |
1788f095cb2347b98b4d553719a7b711 | ['893ea6028d70408a90720e6a6d5e6b16'] | "These are similar to what you requested," he says seriously, "though I'm not sure they're available in blue." His voice is grave. "But one of your tastes can find something better I'm sure."
Ronald nods.
"I don't quite fancy those," he says critically.
When Lawrence gets closer to turn the page, his body grazes against Ronald's; he looks completely unaware though, and is so fixated on his customized frames, that he just gives a bit of a laugh.
"Oi, sir, these pages are quite large. Sorry if I'm in your way!"
Lawrence stares at him, and then smiles. He hopes his eye hasn't developed a tic yet.
"What about these then," Lawrence says, pointing out a pair of glasses without looking.
He realizes Ronald has looked over at his shoulder at him as if he's mad, and then he realizes that he's pointed to a pair of rather flamboyant tortoiseshell glasses.
"You're havin' me on!" Ronald exclaims gleefully, shaking his head. "Well, how about these then?"
He points to a similar pair of frames as the last selection and taps a thoughtful finger against his mouth.
"I suppose green will have to do in place of blue. Shame though."
"Oh, it _is!_ " Lawrence says sympathetically. "You've such a handsome face, after all!"
"So I've been told," Ronald says in his cocky manner, yet still so... likable.
A right git if Lawrence has ever seen one.
"In fact," he says, giving up on the game since Ronald seems to be too daft to even play, "I have another catalogue if you'd like to peruse."
"That'd be--"
Ronald's voice catches when he feels Lawrence's hand slide down the small of his back to his ass; he doesn't say anything, tense with shock.
"I'm afraid there's one signature you missed," Lawrence says, massaging his hand against Ronald's rather pert ass -- perhaps his one attribute. "It's mine, and I have final approval over your selection."
Ronald just stands there, and Lawrence genuinely isn't sure whether he's debating, terrified or amused.
Unreadable, this one. Probably not much going on behind that pretty face, and yet he still manages to be an annoying, demanding, preening little brat of a junior.
"If I--" he starts, his voice carefully controlled, "well..."
"You see," Lawrence says, ignoring Ronald's stuttered response, "do you know what they call me around here?"
"Um," Ronald gulps, and makes an uncomfortable noise as Lawrence's hand slides around to the front of his trousers and mercilessly squeezes at his cock, "Director?"
Lawrence laughs softly into his ear, rubbing his hand against the front of Ronald's trousers.
"Daddy."
"Daddy?" Ronald breathes.
"Daddy," Lawrence repeats. "Now unzip your trousers, and show me how badly you'd like those customized frames, lad."
To his amazement, Ronald actually does as instructed and unzips himself; Lawrence reaches in to feel his cock. He's rather well endowed, all things considered; no wonder General likes him. It's certainly not for the personality... or perhaps it is. Never mind that though, because this is the highlight of Lawrence's day when the new crop of graduate first spring up and start demanding things like the insolent twits that they are.
"Who's going to give you those bloody blue frames you'd like, junior?"
"...Daddy," Ronald murmurs. Lawrence can see the fierce blush already traveling up his neck and to his cheeks.
Lawrence starts to stroke him, uncaring as to whether Ronald is aroused or not, and growls into his ear, "Say it again."
"Daddy," Ronald says more loudly, "please, I'd like a pair of new spectacles!"
To Lawrence's shock, Ronald's is hardening under his hand.
Ronald bloody Knox is getting off on calling him "daddy."
This is now how things are supposed to go! Damn it...
Lawrence lets go and pushes him forward onto the desk; Ronald goes almost willingly, and if Lawrence isn't mistaken, there's a rather ridiculous grin on his face.
"Daddy!" Ronald exclaims, "I'd so fancy a new set of frames!"
Lawrence loses his composure and lands a sound slap against Ronald's ass through his trousers.
Ronald moans.
No, this is not good.
"Are you a bloody fairy, then?" he taunts.
"No!" Ronald moans out. "Not a bit."
This doesn't seem to be anything more than factual information though, and the blush doesn't return.
Lawrence goes for his last option, reaching around to stroke Ronald outright. He thrusts his hips into Lawrence's hand eagerly, spreading his legs even and groaning as he comes onto the ground where he's bent over the desk.
Finally, he doesn't move, and Lawrence thinks he's got him cornered.
"You're a badly behaved slag," he says. "What would your seniors think if--"
Ronald stands up, a grin on his face, pulls up his trousers and turns around.
"Alright then!" he exclaims cheerfully. "I quite like the first pair. Green it is. Cheers!"
Lawrence just stares at him, and Ronald looks concerned.
"Is that all right?"
Lawrence finds himself nodding with a dumb expression, and Ronald lets loose that obnoxious wonder boy grin again.
"Well then, at least now I know what you're called around the Dispatch, Daddy! Ta!"
Lawrence Anderson sits in his office chair, staring at the scribbled writing on the form blankly, and finally stamps it "approved."
"Fair enough, Knox," Lawrence murmurs spitefully. "I'll have you next time." | 57a2b8a74061474a820fcdd59fd2817e | ['893ea6028d70408a90720e6a6d5e6b16'] | Alan's face burns as Grell holds him open for Eric to examine.
He hears a gruff, low sound of acknowledgement, and then fingers gingerly rubbing at him.
"I'd expected you to be rougher," Grell comments with interest as Eric plays with Alan's ass. "You're not exactly skilled at delicate things, lover."
Alan shuts his eyes and sighs as Eric touches him; it does feel good, much like Grell's fingers felt good before as well.
Somehow, this started as being a punishment, and Alan getting the last laugh. He decides right then he's not going to try and make any of them come; he's going to come as many times as he wants and bloody well enjoy this as much as he can.
"Here," Grell says, and hands Eric something. Alan feels Eric's fingers return, slick, and one pushes inside of him.
He gasps, and Grell is suddenly there, tipping his chin up.
"Ronald!" he sings, his eyes never leaving Alan. "Alan's mouth is being idle, which, if I'm not mistaken, is a terrible sin! Please rectify this dire situation."
Ronald's cock is back in Alan's mouth, and he takes it in deep this time, not gagging.
He's on his hands and knees, straining to remain in the right position on both ends to take everything that's given to him. Ronald is perfectly happy fucking his mouth, not stopping; and Eric has two fingers in him, loosening him up.
"He's already had a taste," Grell instructs calmly, stroking Alan's hair. "Give him another memory."
Ronald suddenly pulls out of his mouth, and Alan has the good sense to close his eyes before hot come spatters across his face.
Alan darts his tongue out to taste it; it's very different than William's. But nevertheless, the thing they have in common is that it's all mixed together on Alan's taste buds.
"Brilliant job, mate," Ronald says, nodding his approval and leaning to clap Alan's on the shoulder, as if they'd just won an award.
“Right, then,” comes Eric’s deep voice, and then Alan feels something much more intrusive than fingers.
“Go on, Eric,” comes Grell’s voice, and Alan knows it’s Grell who’s stroking his cock and Eric pushes into him. “Don’t be shy, darling.”
Eric grunts and hangs onto Alan’s hips as he slowly works his way inside; Alan tries to relax, and he feels Eric’s cock get partway into him.
He moans, his face contorting; it’s nice and slick, but Eric’s big.
He reaches up to fondle his own nipples as Grell strokes his cock, and finally, Eric gets inside. He gingerly moves his hips and presses a kiss against Alan’s back, making a feral sound as he pushes forward and goes deeper.
“Get yourself off,” Grell instructs, and then his hand is gone.
Alan reaches down eagerly to stroke himself, and his mouth is full again.
Grell’s cock is, in fact, the nicest of all (Alan is actually a rather experienced connoisseur of cocks); he starts out fucking Alan’s mouth slowly, not pushing in all the way, but slowly working the tip of it against Alan’s lips and then pushing into his mouth.
Alan works with it, and Eric pulls out partway and drives forward more forcefully.
Alan cries out around a mouthful of Grell’s cock and moans raggedly.
Grell strokes Alan’s hair in a way that’s almost affectionate and says, “I know. He’s quite good, and it’s all due to that glorious cock.”
Eric starts to outright fuck him from behind, sliding in and out; Alan’s entire body is being jerked back as he sucks off Grell.
“Oh, just perfect, darling,” Grell groans, gently thrusting his hips into Alan’s mouth.
Alan reaches down to stroke himself, moaning and shuddering. It feels good.
Eric comes first, his hips jerking a few times as he comes inside Alan; he presses his face again to Alan’s back, kissing him.
“Brilliant,” he says softly, and then moves away.
“Well, then, Alan,” Grell says, buggering Alan’s mouth more roughly and unapologetic ally now, “are you sorry for your indiscretions this evening?”
Alan tries to make an affirmative noise, but fails.
It doesn't seem to matter much though, because Grell comes in his mouth and makes him swallow it.
Alan manages to swallow it, and finally Grell draws away, and Alan is left by himself.
“You’re a right slag, Humphries!” Ronald exclaims cheerfully. “No offense, mate. It’s quite appealing.”
“You've fulfilled your penance,” William says, straightening his trousers and tie as Alan collapses onto his side on the pavement, dazed.
“Yes, how lovely that was, Alan,” Grell agrees, draping an arm around William’s shoulders.
“All right, see you tomorrow! Just don’t mouth off, and you’ll be fine!” Ronald says, and then rounds the wall to disappear.
Grell and Will walk off in the opposite direction.
“Come on, then,” Eric says, helping Alan up.
“Bloody hell, this division is quite severe,” Alan says incredulously.
Eric bends down to help Alan get his trousers back on and says, “Why do you think I mouth off regularly, Humphries?” |
a2b57dddaa4e455b8b1bed96fb4e1290 | ['894da609bf9e4064aeeb95543b854dda'] | Holden smiled. Looking over to the other male he was sure Sean was blushing – and his smile grew into a big grin. Gosh, could those damn butterflies in his stomach give him a break please! He sighed - he wasn't cold today.. no shivering... no nothing... he would have to sleep on his own. Too bad...
'Gosh, control your thoughts man. He wanted to keep you from freezing to death yesterday, nothing more. Yes, he put his arm around you in a split second, but that was... well... God! He is straight. He is a nice but straight guy, get over it.'
"Is your back better? You did pretty well today." Sean obviously tried to change the subject.
"It's ok.. your taping thing helped a lot. Thanks for that. I feel what I've done today though."
"Maybe we should take the bandage off at night, might be more comfy for sleeping. Also better for keeping the spine in motion."
Holden agreed and both men got up again. Sean helped him out of his shirt and started to 'unwrap' him. While watching him do that, Holden studied Sean's face again. He seemed very concentrated, he probably didn't want to hurt him.
'Nooooooo, did he just poke out the tip of his tongue? Oh my God... sweet!'
Holden started giggling but he was able to control it right away. According to his look Sean had no idea what had happened.
"You're good?"
"Yeah, fine... thanks. You're pretty caring and protective, you know... your girlfriend must be a very happy chick."
Holden grit his teeth. He couldn't believe that this had just come out of his mouth! Dammit! Only the question 'You are straight, aren't you?' would point even more to it! He wanted the ground to swallow him up...now! Sean didn't answer. Maybe he missed that comment.. but how could he, he was sitting in front of him. Dammit!
"Done. Feels free huh?" – "Yeah..."
Sean reached him his shirt without looking at him and got back into his sleeping bag. Holden felt like an idiot.
'Of course you had to mess this up. A possibly growing friendship with a guy is not good enough... you just have to poke into it, right? Whew...'
Holden crawled into his own sleeping bag and thought about the right words to get out of this situation, when...
"I don't have a girlfriend."
***
There was a strange tension between them for the next two days.
They completely avoided mentioning that awkward little moment. They would talk about trivial things though and managed their tasks and stuff. But the familiarity from the beginning was gone. Sean helped Holden with his stuff, since his back was just slowly getting better. But the football player kept a certain distance. There was no supporting arm or other gestures anymore.
Holden missed it. He knew there were two possible reasons for Sean's behavior.
First – he was straight and didn't want a lovesick gay to stalk him.
Second – he was gay and just couldn't come out of the closet for whatever reason... and therefore kept away from him.
He wished it was the second cause, but then realized that the result would be the same. In the one or the other way, Sean would keep the distance.
'It would have been too good, man! Too easy..'
***
Day 5...
The group climbed up the cliffy mountain the whole day. Holden had a hard time to keep the pace. Sean still carried some of his things, but nevertheless his back was killing him. Especially today, the climbing was exhausting and it got colder with every single yard. But Dillon forced them up, they had to reach the snow line today.
'And then sleep in the snow and freeze my balls off? What a beautiful perspective!' Holden muttered. And he wasn't the only one.
"Hey guys – nobody said this trip would be easy. You all are here for a reason. And one of the tasks tonight will be to challenge and endure the cold. Alone or as a team, your choice, but there's no way back. If I were you, I'd move as close to my partner as possible tonight." Dillon had an awesome way to encourage them – not!
Finally reaching the snow line, Holden was so glad to get that pack off his screaming back.
This being their fifth night in the outdoors, they all were pretty harmonizing. Everybody knew their duties and fulfilled them to build up the camp.
***
Sean stared at the ceiling of the tent. Damn, it was frosty. He usually wasn't cold, but tonight would be tough. Unless... he looked over to Holden. He was shaking.
'He certainly won't do it, after how I treated him the last three days. Wonder what he's thinking of me now.. let's face it, he thinks that I'm a great douche! And he's right! But this girlfriend comment just caught me off-guard... It would have been the perfect moment, man. 'There's never been a girlfriend. I'm gay and I think you're the sexiest guy I've ever met!' This should have been my answer.' Sean sighed. 'But instead... we're talking about the weather in L.A. and gas prices... stupid. But how can I... whew... just start, fool!'
"Holden? You're sleeping?"
"No."
"Can we talk about me being an idiot?"
Holden snorted. That was a good sign. He turned around and just looked at Sean, obviously waiting for his explanation. His eyes sparkled in this intense and yet translucent blue. Sean averted his face, not a single word would come out of his mouth if he got caught in that gaze. | af33fc54b8df42ee9011b92f5dd60792 | ['894da609bf9e4064aeeb95543b854dda'] | Holden had to bend over the bar a bit to understand her, the room was quite noisy. “Oh yeah I remember, the small one, what is it… a pinscher, right?”
“Yes, my little Chester. He means the world to me. He is so cute you can’t imagine. You know, when my husband was still with us, Chester would always sleep on his lap, so sweet! Now he has the armchair for himself. Pinschers are very intelligent, you knew that?”
Holden shook his head and wondered where this conversation would end. He smiled at her, but tried to find Sean in the crowd at the same time.
“Oh sorry. A handsome young man certainly doesn’t wanna hear an old lady’s story about her dog. But do you mind if I ask you something, something personal?”
He looked at her with a now insecure smile. “Ehm… no.”
“I don’t wanna be nosy or something, but that football player… what’s his name…”
Holden helped her out.
“Yeah right, Jackson. Oh, my Henry was a real fan of that sport. He would have known him right away.” She seemed to drift into the memory of her life with late Henry but then focused on Holden again. “I saw you two. You came in arm in arm… ehm… are you a couple? Sorry, it’s confusing for an old woman like me. Maybe it’s become normal for the younger generations… What is it like being together with a man… as a man?”
Holden chuckled and thought about whether he should answer or not. Normally he wouldn’t tell anybody things that were this private and certainly he wouldn’t tell a complete stranger, but she was sooo sweet in her way. “Well ma’am, it’s normal for me, I only know this kind of relationship. I’ve never had a girlfriend.”
She was astonished. “Really? Never? Not even kissed a girl?”
Her face was hilarious, Holden had to fight back a loud laugh. “No.”
“But Rebecca told me, she was married to him, ehm Sean. So he was with a woman before.”
“That’s right, ma’am.”
“Hm, very confusing.”
Now Holden laughed, “Yes it is, right?”
From the corner of his eye Holden saw Sean heading for them. Nodding to Mrs Montgomery with a “Ma’am” he leaned over to Holden. “Hey love, those girls want some photos with you too.”
“What?”
Sean popped some pretzels into his mouth and grinned at Holden. “Yeah, I don’t know. I told them that I’m the famous guy from the two of us, not you. But they said they don’t care.”
“You’re a jerk!” With a quick look over to the older lady he excused himself.
Sean grabbed Holden’s hand, took his beer with the other and they were heading back for the group of girls. Holden still wasn’t used to ‘having fans’. And when Sean tugged him closer for the photos and the girls started squeaking how cute they were, Holden did what he did best – he blushed. Which made them squeak even more. The kiss from his partner didn’t help at all. But finally he regained his normal complexion. When the photos were taken they actually had a nice talk with the girls, who indeed were students.
The rest of the evening passed by without any blushing, at least for Holden.
It was late and there were just five of them left. Holden and Sean, then of course Rebecca and two other close friends, Hank and Susan. They had made themselves comfortable on the sofa with their drinks and were just chatting. When Hank brought up the sailing, Rebecca got all excited.
“Uh uh uh… I have a sweet story for you!” she said with a mischievous grin to Sean. Holden could tell that she was a bit more than tipsy by now, but he couldn’t wait to hear it.
Sean now got excited too, but apparently for another reason. He looked like remembering. “Becca, no. Please!”
Holden tugged him back into his arms, holding him tight. He nodded at her with an encouraging grin, “Tell us!” Sean’s head fell on Holden’s shoulder, he obviously had given up the hope to escape from this.
“You know, we went sailing that one day. Moons ago. And Sean…” she giggled. “I swear he wasn’t drunk. But somehow he got entangled in one of the ropes.” She almost had tears in her eyes. “He fell headlong over the railing and the rope got stuck. So he hung there, head two feet above the water… screaming like a maniac!” She couldn’t bring out any more words, just tried to survive. And her laugh was very infectious.
Sean instantly blushed and buried his face in his hands. “God, Rebecca! Was that necessary?”
Holden looked down on Sean and tried to catch his breath. “Yes it was! That’s so gorgeous!!!”
Almost nothing embarrassing ever happened to Sean. Through the years of their relationship all those situations seemed to steer clear of him and made their way right to Holden. So since he always was the 'victim' Holden found it very refreshing that for once it wasn’t him. He chuckled even more. “Do you have a picture of that?”
“Somewhere, yeah. I’ll copy it for you.” Rebecca grinned.
Finally Sean joined in the laughing. He turned to Holden. “Don’t you dare showing it to somebody!” Holden smiled back at him with the most innocent and angelic face he could put on.
Sean closed the distance between them and kissed Holden. When they parted he shook his head, knowing that at least his parents and cousin Diane plus her family would see it. He nestled back into Holden’s arms and stayed there until they went home.
*** |
5242feb74c6247849493dafd79c845a4 | ['8968249bd700459f8e36913d65e47c3e'] |
The Soldier
1918.
President Wilson finally announced that the United States of America would be joining World War 1, and the US’s allies collectively breathed a sigh of relief.
24-year-old Michael Jones did what every young white American man was expected to do. He joined the military. Specifically, he joined the Navy, and the officers whisked he and his fellow recruits through boot camp in a few short weeks.
After his training, he was sent to Britain and put to work as a gunman on the _HMS Britannia_. He served on the _Britannia_ for seven months.
During November of that year, he spent a large majority of his time (at least his time not stationed at his artillery position) below deck in the sonar room with his bunkmate James. It was November 9th when, while he and James were joking together with a Brit named Charles when, all of a sudden, there was a panicked shout from their commander outside the door, and the ship went up in flames.
Michael’s world was all orange and red and searing heat until it all went dark.
……………………
When he woke up, he was soaked to the bone, and the sunlight glinting off the water nearly blinded him.
He thanked God that they had taught him to swim during boot camp; if they hadn’t, he’d be dead meat.
Again.
He turned around in the water, and was met with the sight of the _Britannia_ , his ship, his crew, all of it, up in a cloud of smoke and flame.
His breathing went shallow. His mates, his fellow soldiers, his superiors, they were all on that ship. They were in the cloud of fire, their surely-dead bodies being consumed by the flames.
So why wasn’t he with them?
He had felt the lurch of the boat as the torpedo hit them. He had felt the fire washing over him, reducing him to nothing but ash. He remembered the pain vividly.
But here he was, floating in the sea, alive and unharmed, the only indication that he had just been torn apart by an explosion being the singed edges of his Navy jacket.
He would have continued his contemplation had not a pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders, followed by a series of shouts in German.
He panicked and started fighting against the other man, but he was held fast. Whipping his head around, he saw a ship towering over him. _How had he not noticed that before?_ A rope was lowered off the edge and the man holding Michael grabbed it with one hand. Up on deck, multiple crewmen pulled against the weight of Michael and the German, hoisting them onto the ship.
Michael landed on the deck with a heavy thud, clothes and hair and skin soaking wet. Before he could recover from coughing, the German who had pulled him from the sea was clapping a pair of handcuffs on Michael’s wrists, and a towering blonde in full military garb, decorated like a hero, grabbed Michael by the shirt, dragging him to his feet and glaring at him, his jaw set.
Michael Jones was a prisoner of war for a whopping two days, and was released (though not returned to America) on November 11, 1918.
He stayed in Germany for years, learning the language and surviving on crime to get himself by.
In 1927, he had raised enough money to buy himself a ticket back to the United States. He was used to ships from his time in the Navy, so, unlike many of the other passengers, he was able to avoid seasickness.
Though he wouldn’t admit it, he kissed the ground when he got back on American soil.
…………………
He was able to avoid the draft for the Second World War (though he supposed being legally dead helped with that) in the forties, and, while all the goody-two-shoes boys were off fighting and dying in Europe, Michael found he had a love and a knack for organized crime.
His experience in crime (other than the pickpocketing he had done in Germany) started the day when he decided it was a good idea to start small and rob a liquor store. Or, at least, that was the day he _planned_ for his experience to start.
The clerk at the counter looked older than Michael, probably in his mid-thirties, with dark hair and a scruffy goatee covering his chin. The tattoos covering his arms were vivid and intricate and glaring out from underneath the rolled-up sleeves of his wrinkled dress shirt. His blue eyes were old but mischievous, and he gave off an air of confidence.
“Hey there, kid,” he grinned at Michael from above his newspaper. “What can I do you for?”
“Just this,” he said, setting a bottle of whiskey down on the counter, pulling out his wallet with one hand, the other underneath the counter, resting on the pistol in his pocket. He was about to pull out the gun when he noticed the tag pinned to the clerk’s shirt. “The hell kind of a name is _Goeff_?”
The clerk furrowed his dark eyebrows and glanced down. “It’s Geoff,” he explained exasperatedly, whipping his head around to the open door to the stock room. “ _Geoff_ , you hear me, Griffon? Stop putting _Goeff_ on my nametags!”
A woman’s voice laughed from inside the stock room, and while the clerk was distracted, Michael sighed and grabbed the bottle of whiskey.
Maybe he’d save violent crime for tomorrow.
He was running out the door when the clerk yelled out to him, “Hey, kid, wait!”
Something in his gut made Michael stop. His brain was screaming at him, _run, run while you can, he’s probably got a shotgun, just run you fucking idiot_ , but he stopped anyways.
“What?” he asked, turning to face the clerk. | e8913d271ba14929b6aad37a5d1731e0 | ['8968249bd700459f8e36913d65e47c3e'] | “Okay,” she replied, shrugging and returning to her textbook. “Can you go to the grocery store while you’re out? We need bread. And mayo.”
“No, Wendy, I mean I’m leaving. _Leaving_ leaving.”
Her nose crinkled and she looked back up at him. “What for?”
“There’s just something that I’ve gotta take care of.”
“I’m not stupid, Pete, I’m just gonna find out from Mom if you don’t tell me. What’s going on?”
Peter sighed and chewed at his lip. “You remember that crazy guy from ten years ago who tried to off Nixon?”
“The really dramatic one with the helmet and the stupid cape?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, I remember him. Whatever happened to him anyway?”
“Well for a long time nobody knew. But now he’s popped back up, and he’s killed a bunch of people, and I’m…”
“You’re gonna try and stop him.”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“You know that’s a really stupid idea, right?”
“I got the same from Mom. But I have to do this.”
“Pete, this doesn’t have anything to do with you,” she insisted. “Somebody else stopped him last time, somebody else’ll take care of it now.”
“This has _everything_ to do with me, Wendy!” He shouted, and she flinched ever so slightly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, that was… I didn’t mean to shout at you.”
She pursed her lips and glared at him. “Inform me, Peter.” He knew she was serious then, Wendy never called him Peter unless she was annoyed or upset with him. “Why are _you_ the one who has to go after this psycho?”
Peter sighed and turned his eyes to the floor. “Because I’m the one who let him out.”
“Excuse me?”
“Before he went all nuts and tried to kill Nixon, he was in a prison underneath the Pentagon, cause apparently he also killed JFK, and ten years ago these guys came to our house and told me they needed my help breaking somebody out of jail. And I did it cause I wanted to see if I really could break someone out of the highest-security place in the country. And we did it. We got him out. And I went back home after that and didn’t really think anything of it. But the next day he was on tv and talking about his whole brotherhood-of-mutants thing and threatening all humans and trying to kill the president, and I could’ve done something. I should’ve done something. But I didn’t. And now he’s back out there and he’s killing people again, and I’m not just gonna sit at home like I did last time. Everything he’s done since he got out, everybody who’s dead… That’s on me. I _gotta_ do what I can to fix it.”
Wendy just stared at him, her dark eyes wide and her mouth slightly open.
“You gonna say anything?”
She looked down and blinked for a few seconds, before letting out a long breath, setting her jaw, and locking eyes with Peter.
“There’s no way you can do this alone.”
He chuckled. “I’m not planning on it.”
“So what are you gonna do?”
“Well, you mentioned that somebody else stopped him last time.”
“Yeah?”
“I just so happen to know where they might be.”
Wendy sighed and shook her head. “So help me, Pete, if you get yourself hurt, I’m gonna deck you.”
A laugh escaped Peter and Wendy glared at him. “Relax, kiddo. I’m pretty tough. And faster than a bullet. It’s gonna take somebody a lot stronger than Magneto to take me down.”
“He can lift a whole baseball stadium, genius. He’s really strong.”
“Yeah, but he can’t hit me with a baseball stadium if he can only see a blur.”
“Just don’t do anything stupid, Peter. Okay?”
“Got it.”
She stood and hugged him, wrapping her arms around his ribcage, and he buried his chin in her auburn frizz.
“See you, Speed Racer.”
He stepped away from the hug and winked at her. “See you, Princess.”
And he was off.
**Author's Note:**
> So, for those of you who haven't read whatever other fic I wrote where Peter kind of explains Wendy (I don't really remember which one that is), I'll just explain her here. She's a little bit Wanda and a little bit not. Basically, she's the younger sister that we see on Peter's lap near the end of Days of Future Past. Peter's 26 in this fic and Wendy's 17, and I guess she looks like what a 17-year-old Wanda would probably look like. But she's not a mutant. Just a regular human.
>
> Thanks for reading this chapter! I hope that you enjoy it and enjoy the rest of the story as it comes! |
a385b0974fb44306bbe75a691ed9cf8b | ['89c7e3b86255410b8dd4d0115a0a01f5'] | The sight was almost too much for him. Grabbing Dean's hips in a way that would most likely leave bruises, he began pushing them into his own hips every time he pushed into Dean's hole, faster and faster. Dean himself was unraveling, his moans becoming less and less coherent as he was fucked harder and harder. His mind was blank and all he could think about was how amazing it felt when his sweet spot was hit. And ,oh fuck, there was a hand on his dick, pumping away furiously. It was too much. He shut his eyes and bit his lip, certain that he was going to hit his climax any second. Then he heard Castiel's voice, low and commanding again, "Come for me Dean. Show me you like it when I fuck you. Come for me."
Holding on any longer was impossible. His entire body clenched and unclenched around the intruder in his ass. His hands gripped the sheets even tighter and a series of unidentifiable sounds were shouted from his mouth into the pillow as he came, shooting his load all over the sheets below him.
The clenching and the moans of the beautiful man under him were too much for the angel, and he cried out and came only seconds after Dean, grunting and gripping his hips even tighter as he emptied himself into Dean.
When, at last, they came down from their rush and their breathing slowed down and they could see clearly again, Castiel pulled out of Dean. The exhausted look of ecstasy on his lover's face let him know that he had done well.
3. Warmth
A wave of sleepiness washed over Castiel as the post-coital haze surrounded him. Murmured sounds of contentment escaped his lips as he let his body fall back to the soft bed. It was as if his orgasm had sucked the energy out of him instantly, replacing it with a content drowsiness and mildly aching muscles, making the bed much more comfortable than he remembered it being. The idea of even moving seemed very disagreeable.
Dean seemed to be in agreement as he, too, relaxed into the bed; they could shower in the morning.
There they lay, bodies sprawled across the bed in pure blissful exhaustion for several minutes. Just when he assumed that Dean was asleep Dean rolled out of the bed and stood up.
Castiel, still in a fog, didn't speak, but grabbed at the air where Dean had been and made a small whining noise.
Confused, Dean turned around to give his lover a questioning look, but was met with a pleading one, as Castiel gestured to the empty space beside him.
He started to explain, "…shower… and, you know… my bed…" but Castiel's look did not waver.
Finally, with a sigh, he climbed his way back into the bed, trying not to notice how grateful he was for its warmth and softness as he pulled the blanket over Castiel and himself. It really was nice to stay in the bed, and as his eyes began to close he let them.
Just as he was slipping into the sweet pull of sleep, drifting off into unconsciousness, he felt a warm hand on his shoulder and seconds later a warm form moving up against his back as the arm wrapped around his chest.
If you were to ask Dean about Castiel's cuddling he would explain to you that it is incredibly annoying and makes it uncomfortable to sleep, but it makes the angel so happy, and how could you say no to Cas's pleading eyes? His puppy-dog look is worse than Sam's! But really, it's only because it makes Cas happy.
Then again, Dean is the one who taught Cas that humans lie a lot.
Dean rolled around in bed to face the angel that had his arms around him. Slowly, he reached out and caressed the stubble of the face of the angel, whom he loved more than anything in the world, (yet another thing that he would never admit) before pulling him into his chest.
Castiel hummed in contentment. He felt at home here with his hunter, his entire body warm and pressed flush against the man's, their legs tangled together, and their breathing slow and soft. He couldn't help but occasionally reach out and touch him, caress his shoulder, run his hands through his hair, drag his fingers across the muscles of his back…
These creatures that God had made were truly magnificent. The other angels could not appreciate it because they did not know the humans well enough. They had never run their hands across smooth skin, seen pure ecstasy in a lover's face, panted and moaned at the same time as a human. They had never watched their faces, Dean's especially. They couldn't appreciate his hurt smiles when he was trying to protect his brother. They don't see how adorable his cocky attitude is, or how underneath he's vulnerable in ways that you would never guess. They don't understand everything that he would give up for others, how much he already has. They don't know the little stories of Dean's life the way that Cas does. They don't know about the time when he was 8 and he told his father that he'd had his lunch money stolen and got yelled at for "letting that happen," when really another kid never got to eat at home and was hungry so Dean had given him his. They don't know about the time Dean was 12 and a dog got run over and Dean held it for hours until it died. They don't know all the little lies Dean told to protect his little brother from the truth. They don't know how hard Dean worked to resist Alistair, or how hard he tried to stop the apocalypse. They don't appreciate everything about him that makes him so beautifully human.
He does though, and this human is his.
So, he can't help but touch him.
And when Dean drops his "tough guy" attitude and snuggles back, pulling Cas in tightly, nothing makes either of them happier. Boredom would never occur to the angel as he holds the human he loves throughout night while the hunter gets the peaceful sleep that he so desperately needs.
And, this night, as the hunter drifted off to sleep, snuggling even closer into Cas, he could have sworn, all his super-angel-hearing be damned, that he heard something that sounded a lot like "I love you."
If Dean hadn't fallen asleep seconds later he might have heard the softly whispered "I love you too."
Neither of them noticed the motel door creaking open at 2 that morning, nor did they notice the shock of another man as he saw his big brother cuddling with an angel, and, not noticing this, it was impossible for them to notice the smile of relief on this other man's face as he shook his head before walking away to get his own motel room.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I hope you liked it!
> Feedback is much appreciated. :) | f70cf14840cb40fda7743150dc031a4e | ['89c7e3b86255410b8dd4d0115a0a01f5'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> It's in the tags, but there is a trigger warning for self-harm. It's not at all graphic at this point, but I don't know if it might be in later chapters (which I would warn for, of course). Still, discussion of such topics is enough to be triggering for a lot of people.
> If you have any issues with the way I portray self-harm, feel free to let me know, but please don't assume that I don't know what I'm talking about.
Sherlock was well-versed in sociology. In fact, he was well-versed in most relevant things, though irrelevant details about planets and stars seemed pointless and thus he did not waste his time with them. Sociology, however, proved useful on a daily basis. For instance, it can be helpful to know that a crime happening in broad daylight is unlikely to be stopped by bystanders. If a crowd sees something happening, no one will intervene because all parties involved assume that someone else will. However, if an individual happens to glimpse a crime happening by chance and knows that they are the only one to see it, that person is much more likely to take action.
And this is why Sherlock wore short sleeves. Not on days he had fresh gashes, of course, but any time the cuts were past scabs, pink and raised but not terribly fresh, he would make no attempt at covering them. It was, as Sherlock supposed, the easiest way to avoid an intervention. In high school he had kept them covered at all times of course, far away from the meddling eyes of teachers who called school counselors who had worried looks on their faces as they called parents. No, in high school “mandatory reporting” superseded the bystander effect. In college, however, any professor or RA would look the other way, assuming that if he was baring his scars surely he was already getting help, and that those who needed to know were already aware. However, should he cover them and someone catch a glimpse, they would know that he sought to hide it, and feel the foolish need to act to assuage their conscience. No, really he was doing them all a favor by leaving his scars in the open, unspoken. They felt no responsibility to act when the evidence of his self-loathing was free for all to see.
The first time he had revealed his secret was in the hush of the night, a whispered secret to a friend, a silent plea to tell no one. By the end of the week he had been called into the counselor’s office and referred to the “appropriate resources,” and asked not to blame his friend, for his friend had spoken up out of concern.
The cuts were better concealed after that day, and he lied his way through therapy, feigning tears at the realization that he deserved better and he was worthy of quitting for his own sake. It felt silly, but the therapist cried with him so he assumed he’d done his job.
Now that could not happen again. As an adult, his parents would not receive notice, nor would Mycroft, and he could walk around campus in broad daylight, knowing that his secret was hidden in plain sight.
The first time he’d walked by his RA (who introduced himself as Greg, but whom Sherlock simply called Lestrade) in short sleeves, he’d watched the man’s eyes travel down to his arm briefly. It had been a planned encounter, several days after being on the floor. Had Lestrade seen his scars during their first interaction, it would affect his first impression, but if he waited too long then Lestrade might feel some perceived bond between the two, negating the bystander effect. No, it was best that it happen within a few days. His plan was working, as Lestrade said nothing. Later in the semester he would occasionally receive “Are you okay?”s from the man, the words heavy with unspoken significance, but he would simply reply with a, “Fine, thanks, and you?” complete with an accompanying smile, allaying any concern or sense of responsibility on Lestrade’s part. Sherlock was an adult, and did not need to waste the time of some college junior put in charge of watching over the freshmen only because he needed free room and board.
By the time second semester came around, Sherlock was fairly secure in the way things were. No professor had said anything to him about his scars, and his family was still blissfully unaware.
There was a small group of acquaintances he had, a variety of students from all social circles who sat at a small table outside the dorms, warmed by the laundry vent, to smoke their cigarettes. They often exchanged pleasantries and many of them spoke about their lives with each other as Sherlock analyzed them in silence, annoyed by how boring most of them were. Still, they were the closest thing he had to friends. Once Molly, a freshman biology major, had grabbed his wrist when everyone else had left. He struggled out of her grasp, but she caught his eyes, and in a more serious tone than he’d ever heard her use she told him, “I know that you’re still doing it and I can tell you’re not getting better. They don’t notice, but I’ve been there. I did it for three years. If you ever need to talk, I’m here.” His heart was pounding as he smiled politely and thanked her, both of them knowing that he’d never reach out to her to talk.
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> AN: This will probably be really sucky because I wrote it on a whim at 3:30 in the morning, really wishing that I had Sherlock's intelligence because then I might not have gotten a B in my own chem lab, but I digress. I hope you enjoy it, despite its suckiness. |
3dc11e68eda240e7803686f457309bbf | ['89e28b8ac0244d1d9271ef488e38dc93'] | Minutes that seemed to be hours later, the trial was over and everyone was huddling to get out of the courtroom. Draco was pronounced innocent. He was a free man, all on the accounts of a skinny boy with a scar on his forehead. Draco watched everyone go but he didn’t see Potter among the crowd. The feeling of being freed again, of having all that opportunity and hope at his reach again lightened his heart. But there was a slight tugging there, a pull that he knew would lead to Potter.
His mother was the first person to touch him after all that. She took him in her arms, crying silently on his shoulders. She was caressing his hair, soothing the tension off his scalp, and whispering hopeful things in his ears. They were free.
He knew he should be happy. Everything will be a challenge from now on. It will take a long time to get rid of the “Death Eater” identity they see him as. But it didn’t mean everything was out of reach for him. He could still attain that life he always wanted.
For the next few weeks, Draco did nothing but plan. He will take the time to relax when he was certain that he could feed himself and his mother. He considered every path he could take, every occupation that would be able to open itself for him. There will be setbacks and difficulties but no worthy thing is ever easy.
Finding the definition of normal was not easy for him. For one, his sleeping patterns have still failed to correct itself. His mind was still loud as ever. At times he wished to be alone, to be locked in his room, just to remember what it felt like to be back in his cell, which he has long accustomed to be his normal.
He still couldn’t find it in him to go outside and expose himself to the wizarding world. Although he did miss the Fortescue’s ice cream, the scent of old paper and incensed wood that comes along with the remnants of magic in Diagon Alley. What information he could glean about the world outside the manor he found in the Daily Prophet.
There were a lot of developments being done in the wizarding world, he read. New departments are being opened here and there, each named as ridiculous as the next one, but they all cater to what Draco presumes to be “the good ones” during the war. Orphaned children from the war, the muggleborns, the halfbloods, the werewolves, and many more. Mininster Shacklebolt had a lot to worry about, what with all the new additions and proposals flying. All this yet Draco hadn’t had the heart to care. His eyes always seemed to overlook those and just speed towards a certain boy.
Harry Potter and his ginger sidekick might have passed the opportunity to study again, or to accept the invitation to Auror schooling, but they still take a pretty decent amount of space in the daily gossip. And despite denying everything aloud, Draco managed to follow every lead they had on the wonder boy.
It seemed as if the Prophet and Draco shared the same interest with regards to the boy. No matter how mundane or uninteresting Harry Potter was up to, they hung on to him. It should appear absurd for Draco to read all the crap that was being published in the paper about Potter, but he just could not bring himself to _ not _ read every single word. Whether it be about what time Potter woke up to fetch his Prophet by the post today, or where he took his lunch on that fine day, or what brought him to the Diagon Alley the next day. Draco was ready to eat it all up.
Amidst all the reportage of all the simple things Potter does, there was one consistent topic they always pick on: his and the Girl Weasley’s “relationship.” It became a past time for the Prophet writers, their attempt at demystifying whatever it was happening between the two. Although there was a part in Draco that loathed their futile search on a label for the two, he found the whole results amusing.
Ginevra Weasley was an up and coming professional quidditch player. The demand of training took up most of her time. The majority of reports about her were located on either the Harpy’s field or on another location vital to her training regimen. The only ever time they were able to catch her with Potter was during the time they ate lunch one sunday, and they weren’t even alone. The whole bunch of Weasley’s were there as well.
However, the lack of content on the two should not mean that there really was _ nothing. _ Yes, Potter confessed to him once that he had confusions about his sexuality but those are just _ that _ . Confusions. They could go away should Potter have his head cleared of any of those thoughts. He might wake up one day and say, _ “I’m straight as a stiff bowtruckle _ ,” and all illusions will end for Draco.
Despite all this, Draco continued his not so subtle keeping tabs on the other boy.
On the one month mark since he’d last seen the boy, well, the boy made an appearance.
At this point in Draco’s life he was still at the stage of adjusting. He has written numerous templates for letters on internships he had been eyeing but to actually filling in its contents, he had failed to do. Aside from this, he had began to write letters to his former classmates, addressing every single sin he had committed to them and their families. It was not a valid apology but it eased a bit of his guilt with every swipe of his quill. | 531cea7a5e7f4d75bc6ea3cfffefbc65 | ['89e28b8ac0244d1d9271ef488e38dc93'] |
Where One Begins (And Two Ends)
**Author's Note:**
> I wanted this to be smut, purely (or sinfully, might I say) PWP, but it turned into an ejaculation of feelings instead. ENJOY!
It starts with one look.
One simple passing of the eyes, regardless of the rifts and obstacles that may come between--when gray meets green, no words are needed because the real communication happens with every touch of skin on skin, shuddering breaths, and unbidden noises of pleasure.
That is the usual between Harry Potter and his once sworn enemy, Draco Malfoy. These days he doesn't know what to call the two of them. Drinking buddies that more often than not find their company under the sheets? Or does the title work acquaintances that have mutual agreement when it comes to sexual preferences seem less obscene? Whichever of the other hundred variations of these "labels" Harry comes up with, it all falls down to that one common denominator: sex.
Maybe, in much simpler and less drama-inducing terms, what they can call each other are fuck-buddies. And rightfully so with how spectacular their performance is in bed, leaving the other almost completely mindless with pleasure. That was what they are: strictly people with a bottomless need for the other's body.
At least that is what Harry thinks when Draco is inside him.
This is nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, he repeats. But then in some quiet, ignored moments between those weak claims, he sees something that makes him think otherwise. Like how gentle Malfoy is when pushing himself inside Harry, inch by inch while his arms quiver a little as they trap Harry's head, his breath hot but soothing as he whispers so good _ Potter, nothing else is as good as you, want to feel this forever, Potter, Potter, Ha _ \-- onto the skin between Harry's neck and clavicle. He doubts the promises they shakenly agreed to during that first night; the promise of "This will only be about sex, Potter," and "I wouldn't have you any other way, Malfoy." Because when they move together, their eyes never shut even between sudden outbursts of pleasure. And between those moments they blink, there exist words that Harry is not sure Malfoy can see and comprehend in his eyes. Hell, even he himself doesn't know what sentences and meaning will come out of those unknown words. All he knows that from just having sex, they continue to cross a line that they can never return to.
It doesn't help that they have reached a point where Harry starts to sort the kinds of sex they have. That's probably normal for sex-mates, or fuck-buddies, or whatever the fuck they are. They will not keep up with the sex if they find themselves doing the same thing over and over again. Where's the excitement in there? Still, it unsettles Harry that what they have is not even the kind of classification of sex that people of such a relationship like them should have.
Instead of bracketing their sex lives into experimenting and trying out stuff, the kind of sex they have falls on quite peculiar categories. For one, they have the I'm Frustrated at that Fucking Bitch of A Secretary sex. With Draco's job as a crime and law consultant for the Aurors, paperwork and intensive immersion to cases are musts. It is not a one man job, which evidently results to him hiring a secretary. Which is the cause of 90% of Draco's head aches with how efficient the secretary is at being inefficient. And when Draco is frustrated, he needs release. That release is found between Harry's legs, most of the time.
Then there are the I'm Physically Starved sex. This one Harry initiates almost all of the time. Merlin knows the two of them have upbringings that in some ways repressed physical affection and genuine care, but between them, it's Harry who's had it worse. Harry believes this is better than falling into his depressive episodes. At times when he needs that assurance for who he is and was, Draco is there to push away his Firewhiskey bottles, then proceedingly push him onto the nearest horizontal surface.
There are much more kinds of sex catalogued in Harry's mind. And in the one year and counting that they continue this charade, the list continues to grow. Aloud, Harry tells Malfoy that his favorites are the occasional sex. The ones where they celebrate something, whether it is a birthday, or a promotion, or the finally, The Secretary is Gone occasion. Sex during those times are hurried, loud, and just happy, for lack of better word. But in Harry's mind, the ones he cherishes the most are the sex where Draco is angry. Angry at the injustice of it all, at the world, at Harry Potter himself, at that guy or girl who was clearly and disgustingly flirting with Harry, at another girl or boy Harry went home with that night they were scheduled to fuck, at that guy he went home with the next week because Harry was being fucking stupid and kept working overtimes at the Ministry.
Somehow, this kind of anger reminds Harry of who Draco was to him. The original Draco he grew up taunting and fighting. Not for some perverse reasons. The angry sex makes Harry grounded, makes him see more than the pale white skin that goes on for miles, the relentlessly flawless hair of the man, or the plumpness of his soft yet sinful lips. It makes him see Draco and all those emotions bottled up within him. Also, those are the sex where afterwards, Draco will just cling to Harry and make sure he gets as much skin on Harry's and promptly pass out in a peaceful sleep after.
But if Harry if really being honest with himself, any kind of sex there is, as long as it's with Draco, he already loves it. |
e67d939f93e34024801c6f377e297096 | ['89e33aa5f8f04a9287a8241dfe65cca1'] | "He's my sisters online friend!"
"You have a sister?" Jade inquires.
"Yeah! Jane from Crocker's cooking!"
"Ooh that hot babe" You input.
"Hey!" John flicks you. "Don't talk about my sister like that!"
"Talk about me like what?" Jane comes in from practically nowhere with Roxy.
"This is a clusterfuck" Rose snorts.
"Johnny!" Roxy stumbles forward and wraps her arms around johns neck. "Good to see u agin"
"Are you drunk?" He asks.
"Nah, a hunded pecent sobre" she responds.
"Hi Jane!" John grins
"Hi john. Jake. Everyone else" Jane smiles back.
"We were planning on having dinner with jake right, Jane?" John inquires.
"Yes. John."
"Then what about Jade!" John pouts.
"I'm having dinner with Rose, Roxy, and Kanaya" Jade answers.
"What about you Dave? And uh... Turntechbrohead..."
"Call me dirk..." Your twin shrugs.
"Alright... Dave and Dirk. What are you doing for dinner!"
"Coffee and a clock" Dirk nods.
"What...?" John tilts his head to the side.
"I'm staying up all night working on my bot. I have no time for food. Fuck that shit I'm doing math and making metal bones and plastic tendons." Dirk nods to himself like its a set plan.
"Actually were going to lego land... And eating there." You interrupt.
Dirk snorts.
"Yeah, right bro. I'm totally gonna get in a stinky cab and drive 3 hours to a crowded amusement park for children when i could be in my hotel room by myself enjoying the wonders of programming."
"Thanks for agreeing with me." You pat his back with a false smile.
"Fucking asshole" he elbows your side and whispers under his breath.
"Woah! Your going to an amusement park!" John enthuses.
"Yeah, and Dirks the one that wanted to go in the first place" You smirk, glancing over at him.
"Alright Regina George get your blond ass over here" Dirk grabs the hood from your hoodie and pulls you back towards him.
Jake breaks down laughing as soon as dirk says it and everyone looks at him.
"Hahah what? Chums... Its Mean Girls" Then giggles.
"You watch chick flicks?" John asks.
"Its not just a dang flabbergasting chick flick. Its a movie fully known throughout our generation!"
"Jake you just say that cause you like every movie." Jade sighs.
"Do you know the movie SBaHJ the movie?" You ask.
"Absolutely!! However Dirk asked me the same thing what is with Striders and that movie..."
"I dunno man, its just and irony magnet all of the most ironic master of the world to gather in one place and soak in the holy glory that is the sweet fucking girth of Sweet bro and hella Jeff. To look past all the mediocre jokes and horrible artwork. To look inside yourself discover an---- our brother created them..." You cut yourself off.
Dirk groans and pinches his glabella.
"You are fucking terrible at secrets."
"Never said i was good..." You shrug.
"Y-your what." Jake studders
"The creator of the movies" you say in a Grunkle Stan voice. "My brother..."
"You have more brothers!?" John asks exasperated.
"Pfft believe me two is enough... You don't want all four in one place.." Rose sighs and rubs her eyes like she just got a migraine thinking about it.
"Buuut! The one they call bro is hunky as fuuuuck~" Roxy slurs.
"He is our family Rox..." Rose sighs.
You snort. "Bro is practically a shut in like Dirk only differences is that Bro has a nicer tan and that he makes millions on his weird porn..."
"Oh fucking please. Don't act like D isn't exactly like you only with a larger ego, tuxedos, and a large disposable income"
"Four of them..." John and Jake seem exhausted.
"Yep. Pretty much twins run in the family. Me and Dirk are twins while our older brothers Bro and D are twins..."
"Just imagine two more taller versions of Dirk and Dave and times the egos, money, and deadpans by 10"
"The Striders need to be stopped..." John deadpans.
"Yeah. No. That's not gonna happen at all..." Dirk snorts.
"Ridiculous..." You say.
"Now this has been a fantastic clusterfuck you all! But if I could steal Jake and John for dinner that would be fabulous!" Jane smiles.
"Go ahead, Crocker. We will be gone when you get back so talk to you later." You wave.
================================
Your name is Jake English and this has been a capital get together. Everyone seemed to have learned something new from one another and you had met your favorite mechanical youtuber as well as the sibling to a famous director.
After meeting Dirk yesterday you both hung out all day today and went to a couple panels together and just generally got to know the chap. He is very entertaining and definitely knows his way around metallic contraptions. He's a bit rugged in a ridiculous ninja scoundrel way. It seems however all of the Striders are extremely overzealous in their irony. For the event you decided to wear your green button-up with black suspenders and a darker green bowtie. Dirk laughed at you when he saw you and you couldn't understand the preposterous shenanigans he was pulling and you decided to ignore him. But besides that you look down at John.
He has always been incredibly small since long ago. The chap seemed to always be the runt compared to your darned height. That doesn't quite bother him though. You believe he has just gotten use to the fact that he was probably just going to stay small for a long time. After driving in Jane's care for a little while she parks at a Longhorn and gets out.
"Only one more day of vid-con" John sighs and you smile.
This must have been a full day for him. His hair is all messy, he rubs at his eyes like he's exhausted.
"What do you think of Dirk, Jake?"
"Oh! I think he's grand. His a bit of a pain in the toosh to get anything done but he's intelligent and interesting to be around. You know what i mean?"
"Yeah." John grins spacing out.
You get a feeling John wishes Vid-con lasted more than 3 days. | b67c6a2ca0c845999d1c1e0e2134b4b0 | ['89e33aa5f8f04a9287a8241dfe65cca1'] | "I hope you don't mind me asking chum, but who called?"
"My friend. She was talking about some new video my brother posted."
"Your brothers a youtuber?"
"Yeeeup. He's been for a while. His names TurntechGodHead..."
"Oh! I've heard of him! My friends younger brother is completely obsessed with him."
"Is that so?"
"Indeed! For a while we thought the poor boy had a crush on him."
"Wow, that's an unfortunate case of miscommunication"
"Yes i suppose. So what was this new video about?"
"No idea." You respond bringing out your phone and looking at your subscriptions, sure enough there was a new video up from your brother.
'??YouTube TurntechGodHead: "Slash fan fiction reading with EctoBioloGist'
You smirk.
"No way"
"What?"
You take out your headphones and plug it in moving over to Jake's side and handing him the earbud as you click on the video. He looks at you confused before putting it in and looking at your screen.
"That's JOHN!" He exclaims suddenly after looking at your phone screen.
"Who?"
"MY MATES YOUNGER BROTHER! The one I was talking about earlier!"
"Huh, small world."
You watch the video and are busting out laughing buy the end of it and Jake is not far behind you as he hold his sides in shaking laughter. You can tell your brother in in the zone. Reading that erotic fan fiction like its gonna give him 20$ and John looks so uncomfortable he keeps blushing and burying his face in a pillow. When it finishes and the outro plays you look over at Jake and he's grinning widely.
"That was a great knee slapper isn't it?"
"Yeah totally, that was awkward as hell but it only made it funnier."
After your little laugh fest you return to your side of the table and you both start eating again. You find out that Jake's grandma is a scientist working on molecular geosciences on their remote island off of Honolulu. And that he has a younger sister named Jade who travels all around america learning about bikes. And that Jake loves meat. As in the carnivorous way. Not the, uh, other way. He had the new sirloin burger with extra bacon and when he bit into his burger he seemed like the happiest person in the world.
But it did surprise you when he looked up from his food at you, fidgeted then smiled, and said.
"Mind if i get your number mate?"
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> ((Dies of exhaustion))
> School is hell.
>
> I am super supportive any sort of community so if you want to send me artwork or one-shorts or anything I'll probably love you forever. If you have any artwork or one-shots or anything you want me to see from either of my stories send it to:
> USER@gmail.com
7. Chapter: 7 - Clusterfuck
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Wow. This is a Clusterfuck.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> if your curious the youtubers I had influence the characters are
> Dave: Danisnotonfire, critikal, jackcepticeye, egoraptor
> John: amazingphil, markiplier, danny sexbang
> Jade: grav3yardgirl, mortem3r, cutiepiemarzia, (mechanics channel)
> Rose: (rose is special)
> Roxy: Jenna Marbles
> Jane: Nerdy Nummies, cutiepiemarzia
> Kanaya: cutiepiemarzia, michelphan
"John your gay!?" Jade makes a face like .0. And covers her mouth. You feel surprised, he did it just like that. With no hesitation.
To be honest you've never seen somebody come out. You've lived in Texas your entire life which is practically the most homophobic state in America and seeing a gay person was like a diamond in a coal mine, and even then the diamond is fuckin ragged on and made dirty by all the coal surrounding them. Lets just say it was fuckin rare. Texan's were stone cold bitches. Unlike the rest of your neighbors, you just let the people date who they want. Have their fun. Now you've met a gay person and their kinda. Normal.
John Rolls his eyes.
"Yeah, gay. Flaming homosexual. Dick lover. Faggot. Take your pick. Not a big deal" he shrugs.
"Dude, your like normal though" you comment.
"And i wouldn't be why?" He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow.
You shrug. "Dunno, aren't like gay people. Major pink fanatics and like have a weird lisp thing" you wave you hand in the air as you explain. John Sighs.
"I totally expected you to be a major fuckboy about this since your from Texas. Okayyy. Gay people can and might have those things you just described because they are causal human traits but also because gay people are human we can be anything else in my case, I'm still john egbert. I'm just me."
"I just like dicks" he shrugs.
"Uhhhh" you draw out
"No I wont have a homo weird crush on you Dave don't worry. Your not my type" he nods.
"Only friends?" You bring up your fist.
"Bros." he agrees and bumps his fist against yours.
"Yes Dave. If you have any questions or concerns about sexuality or otherwise. Talking to me or John seems like a good idea" Rose nods.
"Why me specifically?" You raise an eyebrow.
"Its cause your a redneck hillbilly from the south" whispers John
"I take mighty' of offence' to dat'" you lay your country accent down hard and John and Jade giggle.
"I don't see why dear Dave. I am just implying that from your home you may or may not be ignorant when it comes to those subjects and perhaps having talk to someone who does will be easy on you."
Sighs Rose.
"I know about all the sexuality's Rose." You start to count on your fingers.
"Straight, gay, lesbian, uhh bisexual, pancake"
"Stop." John pushes your hand down.
"Soooooo, John. What is your type?" Jade bats her eyelashes.
"Yoo, when did this become interrogate the gay?" John raises and eyebrow.
"When you said you were gay." Deadpans Rose.
John groans and plops down onto his back. |
01eaa65214904a4ca7a4bdb1a607032a | ['8a2c03de883646c38f9843c92ba00065'] |
Handwritten
**Author's Note:**
> Massive hugs to everyone who encouraged me to keep going, did writing sprints with me, listened to me complain about how much everything sucks, talked things through with me, etc. Every one of you were a great help and without you I wouldn't have finished this. Thanks to the native english speakers who helped me find the right words when my online dictionary failed me.
>
> My never ending gratitude and love goes out to my spectacular betas Katie, Lindsay and Sarah, who did a fantastic job & who were there for me in the very last days before posting, and dealt with me in a very delicate mental state: YOU'RE ROCKSTARS.
>
> Last but not least, this whole fic wouldn't exist without Katie. She was there from the very first email I sent her five months ago and fell madly in love with this idea I had, helped me build this 'verse and who's probably just as invested in this story as I am. This is _my baby_ , and she adopted it and loved it just like her own, metaphorically speaking.
>
> **Please note:** This fic contains a brief mention of a past parental death, quite a bit of wine drinking, and deals with someone coming from a dysfunctional family. It is also very uncommon to take a plane from Manchester to London, but it _is_ possible. (:
>
>
>
> **LINK & LINK**
The moment he steps outside, Harry thinks it might finally be time to buy a scarf. It's cold and windy, so he pulls up the collar of his coat and shoves his hands deep into his pockets as he starts towards the pub, his boots grinding as he walks down the rough pavement. Dusk is falling sooner at this time of year and the streetlamps are on early. It's not a long walk from his flat to the pub, and he checks his watch as he's standing at a crossing, waiting for the traffic light to turn in his favour. He's a little late for open mic night and as Harry turns the corner and walks towards the entrance doors, he glances in through the window and sees that someone's already up on the stage.
He pushes the heavy wooden door open, just enough to slip inside. The pub is warm, noisy and alive with chatter, and a small group of people have gathered to dance near the stage where two girls are performing a country song. Harry strides up to the bar and orders a whiskey. He watches the bartender prepare his drink and chat to her co-worker – the one with the dyed blond hair and the black thick-rimmed glasses, the one who is always smiling bright and talking to whoever is around. He's wearing an unbuttoned blue and white plaid shirt over a white t-shirt, hair done up and towel thrown over his shoulder.
Harry sees him here sometimes, late in the afternoon, polishing glasses behind the bar and pretending not to be interested in the football match on the telly. Harry had never paid too much attention to him, before. Before he saw him perform on open mic night a few months ago. That's how he got to know his name, too. Niall. His thick Irish accent and throaty laugh sometimes still echo in Harry's head when he goes home, a little drunk, maybe a bit wobbly on his feet.
By the time his drink is ready, the two girls are leaving the stage to the sound of people clapping and whistling. Harry glances around for a place to sit. He spots a free chair in his usual corner, where he has a good view of the tiny stage on the opposite side of the room, and where he can people-watch, undisturbed and unnoticed, scribbling away in his journal. Harry makes his way through the throng of people, sits down and puts his coat over his chair.
He takes a sip of his whiskey, enjoying the slow burn in his throat, warming him up from the inside. A bloke walks out on stage and starts a stand-up comedy routine, but Harry doesn't quite pay attention to him; his eyes wandering around, taking in the people and their interactions, trying to catch bits of conversations around him. The ice slowly melts in his drink as he circles the glass in his hand.
His phone buzzes in his pocket and Harry fumbles to get it out, not quick enough to answer the call, and sees he has two missed calls from Nick. _Shit._ He definitely forgot to call him back before he left his flat, and considers going outside to call now, but decides against it because he doesn't want to miss Niall's performance – the reason he came here in the first place. Nevertheless, he's surprised Nick is calling him so late on a weeknight, as he usually goes to bed early since starting the Breakfast Show on Radio 1. He reckons it must be something important, so he shoots Nick a quick text, telling him he's out but will call him back in an hour if he's still up. Not a minute later, his phone buzzes again with a message from Nick: _I'm off to sleep, let's chat tomorrow. enjoy your night_.
When Niall takes to the stage the crowd goes absolutely bonkers - cheering, whistling, and stomping their feet. Seeing as Niall works at the pub and performs on open mic nights fairly regularly, he's developed quite a bit of a fanbase. Harry's only seen him three, maybe four times, but he's noticed that there are a few familiar faces returning and cheering for Niall each time. | fcdb83ae1b66420791ece1a4012bb801 | ['8a2c03de883646c38f9843c92ba00065'] | He grabs a bottle of red wine, not even caring about putting on his coat, and drives Gemma's car to Nick's. The whole time he's driving, he can't stop thinking about the ring on Gemma's finger and the disappointed look on her face, angry with himself for not being able to be sincerely happy for her. He just can't shake that uncomfortable feeling, making his chest tighten and his fingers twitch nervously. It's not exactly like he's jealous of her, but he's thought about this a lot - how they have the same family background and still, they both deal with everything so differently. He doesn't understand why Gemma has the ability to be in a functional relationship, and he simply can't do it. Harry's tapping on the steering wheel, waiting for a red light to turn, when it starts snowing. He watches the snowflakes slowly cover the windscreen until he can't see clearly anymore and turns the wipers on, just as the light turns green.
At the door, he's welcomed by a sleepy looking Nick, dressed only in a pair of pants and a Dr. Dre t-shirt, while Puppy yelps and jumps excitedly around Harry's legs.
'Hey, what are you doing here, thought you're spending Christmas Day with Gemma and Liam?' Nick asks, his voice raspy from sleep but comforting.
'Unexpected turn of events. Are _you_ okay, though? You look a bit pale,' Harry responds while walking through the kitchen, putting the bottle on the table, Nick trailing behind him.
Nick runs his fingers through his messy hair, clearing his throat. 'Thanks. I've been feeling a bit poorly, actually, and fell asleep in front of the telly. Hope I'm not coming down with something.'
'That would suck, mate,' Harry says.
'Indeed.' Nick smiles at Harry, and then looks at the bottles on the table. 'Can I offer you a drink, then?'
'Please,' Harry says. He bends down to stroke Puppy behind the ears, and she wags her tail in response.
Nick walks over to the cupboard and gets a corkscrew and two wine glasses, tells Harry to grab the bottle and walks past him, with Puppy trailing behind. Harry follows Nick into the living room, which is lit only by the tiny kitschy Christmas tree in the corner, the television and a pair of candles on the coffee table. He puts down the bottle and falls onto the couch. Puppy follows suit, jumping into his lap. He plays with her while Nick pours the wine and then hands him a glass. They clink glasses before Harry takes a huge gulp. He just needs to be numb right now, doesn't want to feel miserable and doesn't want to think about anything.
'Alright. Spit it out, Styles. What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?' Nick asks, sitting sideways on the couch, facing Harry.
'Liam proposed to Gemma last night,' Harry says, staring into his glass.
'Oh. That's-' Nick pauses, 'certainly news.'
'Yeah,' Harry laughs, bitter taste on his tongue. He downs his glass in one go, trying to wash the taste away.
'Bit unexpected, was it?' Nick asks, placing his hand on Harry's knee.
Harry takes a deep breath, still comforted by how well Nick can read him, always knowing what's going on in his head without Harry having to spell it out for him. 'I mean, I suppose I should have known, like. They've talked about it before, I just didn't think it would happen so soon?'
Nick squeezes his knee gently. 'You know Gemma loves you, and nothing will ever change that.'
And he knows Nick is right – of course he is – but it still feels like things are going to change between them. Gemma will be starting this whole new life with Liam. Although he's glad she found someone who truly loves her, he can't help but feel betrayed; it used to be them against the world, and now he's been replaced with someone else. He knows he's overreacting, but he's feeling hurt and it outweighs his desire to be happy for her, and that only leads to feeling even more frustrated. Harry nods, despite all that.
'Refill?' Nick asks, and Harry responds by handing his glass over.
'You know it's okay if you don't want to talk about it,' Nick says while pouring him another glass. 'We don't have to.'
Suddenly, Puppy gets up and jumps off Harry's lap, startled by the vibration of his phone in his pocket. He pulls it out and it's Gemma calling, but he doesn't answer, just waits until it stills. 'I should probably tell her I'm okay,' he says, more to himself than to Nick, and starts composing a message, _i'm at nick's don't worry i'm fine .xx_.
He puts the phone on the coffee table in front of him and takes his glass from Nick, clinking their glasses together and smiles at him, 'cheers.'
'Cheers,' Nick repeats, and they both get comfortable on the couch. Harry toes his boots off and throws his legs over Nick's thighs, asking him about the shit shows he's watching, lets him explain the rules to Harry, anything to avoid talking about what's actually on his mind. He watches Nick as he talks to him, face illuminated by the soft flickering light in the room, sipping on his wine and his free hand flailing around when he's trying to make a point but always coming back to rest on Harry's legs. It's a nice and comforting weight, assuring him that Nick is there for him, like he always has been. It makes Harry's heartbeat slow down, calms his nerves.
They're already on their second bottle of wine, and Harry's feeling warm and sedated, bones heavy from the alcohol, making him sink back into the couch, when his phone goes off again on the table. He mumbles, 'Can't move. Can you get it for me?' from where his face is planted between the cushions. |
93b81f0ca9d94b47991bd9f8c82d12ce | ['8a2e6fbab06d41aa91e7c48dc0b31909'] | "It was. At the time. Moving to a new city, where you don’t know anyone, where you are a stranger. It was a bit like reliving the experience of arriving in Barcelona the first time, so many years ago. But this time there was no excitement. I didn’t want to leave my home and friends. Not to go to a place where for so many years I received the hatred of so many players. Players that today I can call colleagues, and friends. I didn’t ask to be transferred. I didn’t ask for that plane ticket. I didn’t ask for any of it, period. My father falsified my signature, perhaps for his benefit or, as he alleges, a job opportunity to continue growing. It may be one of those reasons, or none, or all of them. But I didn’t ask for it, and I surely was not consulted about it. I was only informed that the deal was made after the fact.
"That was the first time. The first betrayal, if I may add.
"Then, I made what many called in their beautiful headlines the blundering mistake of kissing my partner, Cristiano, during a game. That was when, as they say, everything went to hell. And it did. Things were crap” Lionel was doing his best to control any trace of insults or, as he liked to think about it sometimes, embellishment language.
"Both I and my partner suffer from the harassment and rejection of a large part of society and the world of football. They gave us motes, they shouted at us in the street, we received letters full of feces, vomit, urine, and many other things. Things we decided to forget, put aside. Because we considered them to be a childish like behavior. Who puts any grain of attention to a child rambling, right? All that because sometimes people forgot our sexuality when we scored a goal. Only in those instants were we again the heroes, the crack, as they say. The gods of football, him and me.
"Then someone came with the intention of hurting me. He did it. He fractured my leg, putting my career on the verge of failure. On the edge of everything. I don’t know how else to describe it. Nor do I like to think about those days, the depression, the pain and all the pills that the doctors made me take to stop feeling, to disconnect a bit from the world and float in a cloud of painkillers. I don’t blame Doctor Hernández for that, he was doing his job. And was the best help I could have got. But those days were hard. The almost madness of the world consuming me slowly.
"And Zinedine, always stalking, insisting on recanting us. Things I kept silent, for fear of retaliation. Things not even Cristiano knew about. Zinedine, whispering to break the relation, offering the comeback of a long girlfriend. Just for the prestige of Real Madrid.” Bitter memories. Silent secrets. _What was the name of that album? ‘In keeping secrets of something, something and a number 3’, right?_ That was what his life felt like then. He had to shut his problems in order to never let known Cristiano about them, just to save the man Lionel loved to carry another weight over his shoulders. “Just for non sensical pride.”
If Lionel had to think about what was the hardest things to talk about his life, the second one must likely been his leg injury. A broken leg for a footballer was most likely the end of it all. A three multiple time broken leg--- Leo must be truly blessed for his comeback. The number one thing to talk about, however, had nothing to do with his profession. It was purely personal, which made the stakes higher. Once the monsters under the bed and inside closet became the mere pale shadows of what they once had been, the true monsters of life, adulthood, became known: humans.
"Someone, two crazy people set fire to my home. There is nothing left but rubble from that place that used to be home now. And maybe many want to show that everything is a coincidence. That those people only wanted to steal some goods and stuff alike. Then please ask yourselves this: why didn’t they just steal and left? Why burn the house? Because that way police might not been contacted? Bullshit. It was an act of hatred--- one of them tried to kill Cristiano, I'm sure of that. "
"Objection, your honor,” Sagitta said in a hurry. Leo just stare dead back at her, cold eyes meeting the eager ones of the lawyer. “He cannot base his testimonies on the beliefs of---"
"IS IT A BELIEF TO SEE A MAN BRANDISHING A GOAT FOOT AGAINST THE HEAD OF MY HUSBAND?” Leo’s voice broke with the anger, the frustration, the pain of the memory, the helplessness of being interrupted while telling such personal things, and yet his voice did not sound less authoritative. He did not lose strength, and more than a howl was a passionate sound. “Or is that just a figuration of an unstable, depressed mind? Go ahead, say it! They wanted us dead. Because of hate. They didn’t want anything about our economic position, for that the cars would have been taken and that's it. After all, they entered without being noticed. Come and go, and not even the wind might have noticed them taking away the cars No. No, don’t you fucking dare undermine my intelligence. One of them went up to our room brandishing a knife. Another set fire to our house. And one of them wanted to leave as a memory of their kind visit a piece of iron in the skull of my husband. In what way does that seem like a robbery?
"You can distort the truth as much as you want, Miss, but those are the facts and they speak for themselves." | 5c2fffabb37a4b8aab3f294e6c65f02c | ['8a2e6fbab06d41aa91e7c48dc0b31909'] | “Alas, pretty. Come, it's getting late.” Álvaro rushed an arm along Alice's shoulders when she got close to him. His lips lay a kiss on her cheeks. It was getting dark. Streets became framed with amber lights and houses did so. With the shadows came a fresh night, neglecting the morning's heat.
Alice walked along with him with her head slightly resting on Álvaro's chest. He kissed her again, this time in the head. She smelled like chamomile and lemon. Alice pressed herself closer to Álvaro, a giggle coming out of her mouth. With a soft hand, she removed her hair and then looked up at him. She was not pretty; she was gorgeous.
They had not been that long together. The first year and a half were yet to come. Before she there had been another. That was the time Álvaro had had an injury he did not tell anyone. At the same time, his family went through some financial difficulties. And when he spent most of his nights drinking until his eyes closed and morning came with a crude hangover. He had cried himself to sleep some of those nights. Other nocturnes with no sleep at all. As a player, he was not taken that seriously.
Life back then had felt so meaningless. Álvaro had grown tired of wanting everything in solitude. The few accomplishments achieved seemed rusted merits, exploits of another man. At the same time, he saw how the names of Lionel and Cristiano appeared more frequently in each story. He had been very jealous. He had almost drowned among those emotions.
Then came Alice. And she had saved him from that hole. Simple as that.
"Poor Lio," she said suddenly while squeezing Álvaro's hand. "Will he be fine?"
"Cris hopes it so," he said absently.
"What about you?"
"I hope he can walk again. And run. In time maybe he'll be back playing soccer. Who knows? If someone still wants him to play---" Alice nudged him at the ribs. "Oi! What was that for?"
"Alas! Don't play the fool with me."
"But it's the truth!"
"He's still in his prime."
"Aye, bloody hell he is," Álvaro said as he absent-mindedly rubbed his ribs. "But by the time he can get back on his feet perhaps he won't longer be in his prime. One does not simply come out well of that kind of injuries. I do wish Leo well. But I don't make my mind into fantasies. Bloody ashes, hitting me was not necessary."
Alice sighed. "Sorry, not sorry," she got on tiptoes to kiss him. "One night I dreamed of you injured. You had not come home and I wrote you many letters. I did not receive any response. When the sun came up you came with one leg less," she added nothing else. Álvaro pulled her closer into a hug and smiled. He bloody loved her. "Poor Lio," then after a pause "you his friend, go spend time with him."
"And what about us?"
"We see each other every night, now you almost see him. You must take care of all your friends more."
"Alas, pretty. I'll do so for you."
Being late at night with Alice resting beside him, Álvaro considered postponing his plans for tomorrow with Isco and Carvajal. He could afford the time to visit the Argentine and the Portuguese. After all, they were his friends.
Leo would spend most of the morning waiting for Cristiano to return from training. Maybe in the afternoon, they would want company. Perhaps the three of them could go out to a bar or something. But Lionel did not come off the house that often nowadays. Álvaro had seen him a few times waiting for Cristiano on the bench of the stadium while they trained, reading a book or just staring at them. James was sometimes at his side, chatting and laughing. But Leo looked uncomfortable most of the time. And so did Cristiano.
Cristiano's hair was longer than he had ever used it with its curls showing up despite the gel. Although he still cut it every week for the sake of maintaining the clean and elegant look. Lionel, on the other hand, pulled his wavy hair back with one hand. It was not as long as it used to be. The two men were letting their beards grow too. Whereas Cristiano's beard was delineated and defined, Leo's was wilder.
Spending time with those two could not harm anyone.
And speaking of harm, what did James bring against him? Since the game against Gijón, he refused to talk to Álvaro or be in the same room as him unless it was necessary. Why? What had Álvaro said or done to receive such treatment? Not knowing that but catching other things was surely annoying. Álvaro should apologize, even when he had said nothing wrong.
"You lend a hand and they stab you in the ribs!"
Alice moved in her sleep and mumbled something that sounded like Italian to Morata's ears. He muttered an apology and kissed her back.
Leaning back and looking at the ceiling, Álvaro wished he could fall asleep soon. He felt tired, but for some reason, the dream eluded him that night as he had two years ago.
Was it going to be like that for the rest of his life? Always looking back at the past, into dry-hard awful memories. His mind was likely to stop every time in a dark spot he would rather forget. Sighing could not help him put to rest the weight of that time. Nothing would do it. Just Alice. Alice in her sleep. Sharing a life with her. Aye, that would bloody help him carry that weight.
_Phaw! Enough silliness. There’s still plenty to live waking in Madrid._ He smiled at the thought. It was a nice thought to have on a spring night along Alice. |
0dbc824846de41fca6cfec9985f9c61c | ['8a54b24be44143859e0f950e0cddbbf4'] |
Love isn't Always Enough
The summer of ‘84 is when it all seemed to go wrong for Eddie Kaspbrak. He had come out as gay, and told his best friend, Richie Tozier, that he was in love with him. The Losers were very accepting of him, and a few others in the group have even come out at gay or bi since then, but Richie (being the bisexual disaster he is lmao) didn’t talk to Eddie for an entire week after he told Richie about his feelings, and things haven’t been the same between the two since then.
That was about two years ago, and more than just Eddie and Richie’s relationship has changed since then. Eddie became a star runner on the varsity track team, and he has only remained friends with Mike and Ben because they were also on the track and field team. He hadn’t spoken to the rest of the Losers since he became “popular”, only sending them awkward waves as he walked down the hallway with his girlfriend Great Bowie. Yes, the same Greta that used to make fun of Eddie and would call him a stupid fairy.
Now, he didn’t lie to the Losers when he came out at 15 years old, quite the opposite actually, he was lying about his sexuality now in fear of the response that he’d get from those around him, that they would do what Richie did.
It wasn’t that Eddie didn’t miss the Losers, and that was obvious because of how often he asked Mike and Ben how they were doing. The rest of the Losers missed Eddie just as much as he missed them, but they all knew that Richie would have to be the one to solve the problem. Both boys seemed to be absolute disasters without the other. Richies bad smoking habit only got worse, and Eddie’s anxiety worsened. No matter how upset they were they both knew, deep down that they needed each other to feel complete.
It was a cold day in Derry, and it was only getting colder as sundown approached. Eddie had stayed late after track practice, so he could get a few more laps in. Running cane so natural to Eddie that he never had to think about what he was doing, so he normally thought about whatever was stressing him out which was usually Richie, school, his mom, or all three. Today he was thinking about how Greta had broken up with him for some cooler guy that was on the football team, and Richie because Ben had told him this funny story about how the taller boy fell while attempting to learn a skateboard trick. He smiled, thinking about the grin that Richie probably had plastered on his face after the fall, when he stepped in a rock that he hadn’t noticed and tumbled to the round.
“Aghh” He yelled out in pain. He was sure that he had sprained his ankle. He couldn’t just sit there on the grumpy track, so he picked himself up and began limping to the empty locker room to collect his things, whimpering every few steps as he walked out of the building and begun making his way towards his house when he heard a voice he would never forget.
“Eds?”
The annoyingly wonderful nickname that he hadn’t heard in what felt like forever, and hearing it now made his heart break more than he expected. He froze hoping that if he just ignored it, Richie would go away, but he knew that wouldn’t happen, and deep down, he knew he didn’t want it to. Eddie turned around to face the boy that broke his heart by denying his young heart years prior. Tears stung at his eyes, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the throbbing pain his ankle was exerting, or the overwhelming amount of emotions he was feeling. He slowly turned around, cringing at the amount of pain he was feeling throughout his whole body.
“Eds holy shit are you okay?”
It may have been two years since they had last spoken, but Richie was yet to forget anything about Eddie, knowing fully well that he wasn’t okay. Eddie on the other hand, wasn’t aware of this, and believed he was doing a rather good job at concealing his feelings.
“Yeah, I’m fine, and don’t call me Eds, Richard” He spit our Richie’s name as if he was disgusted by the thought of the other boy, though he wanted nothing more than to be held by him.
“Sorry…Eddie.” He let out, his voice cracking at how much he was hurting in that moment. Eddie was about to walk away, not wanted to deal with the problem he’s avoided for so long anymore than he already has.
“Wait, let me drive you home at least! You can’t walk with your ankle fucked up like that, it’ll only make it worse.” Richie practically yelled out, not wanting Eddie to leave. No matter how hard he tried to put on the facade of someone who didn’t give a fuck, it would almost always falter when it came to the people that were important to him.
Eddie pondered Richie’s offer, knowing that he was right, but he unsure if he was mentally prepared for the awkward car that would be ahead of him if he agreed. After a few moments Eddie finally spoke up.
“Fine.”
The whole car ride Eddie tapped his foot to the loud, nostalgic rock music that Richie was playing while Richie thought up the perfect apology because he couldn’t let Eddie slip out of his hands for the second time. They pulled up to the Kaspbrak house, and Eddie placed his right hand on the door handle to exit the vehicle when Richie placed his large hand over Eddie’s left. Eddie froze not sure how this next conversation was about to play out. Richie took a deep breath before finally speaking. | 5aa9b429983940db9180c57403c30744 | ['8a54b24be44143859e0f950e0cddbbf4'] |
Boyfriend does my voiceover challenge
Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak were both well known internet sensations, and have been for about 6 years now. Surprisingly enough their strong relationship of of 5 years began because of it. They now live together with their teams in a huge house where they film their Youtube videos.
Richie has a reaction channel that he uploads to every Monday and Wednesday while Eddie is an MUA that uploads every Tuesday and Thursday, and they upload daily vlogs everyday except for Sunday on a conjoined vlog channel they have. The happy couple wouldn’t be able to do any of this without their amazing crew that just so happens to be their best friends. Richie’s crew consists of Stan his editor, and Ben his writer while Eddie’s crew consists of Mike his editor, and Bill his writer, and Beverly films for both of them.
One day, all seven of them sat in their large office discussing video ideas for this week.
“I don’t know of a look I haven’t done yet Ben, it’s easy to run out of ideas rather quickly after doing this for six fucking years.”
Everyone just sat there staring at Eddie because it wasn’t like him to snap at someone like that, especially not Ben.
“Eds, maybe we should take a break for a bit, you’re starting to get really stressed” Richie began massaging Eddie’s shoulders almost instantly calming him down.
Eddie apologized to Ben before leading everyone to the living room where they ordered take out, and watched an old Friends rerun while simultaneously being on their phones.
“Have you guys seen James’ Twitter poll about shaving his eyebrows?” Bev laughed not even looking up from her phone.
“That’s it! I could tweet out asking what I should do for my next video!” Eddie practically jumped from his spot on the couch to go get his laptop, and he opened up Twitter when he returned.
“Okay, how does this sound? ‘Hey guys, tweet me some ideas for things you want to see in my video for Thursday!’” Eddie looked around the room, and saw approving faces reassuring him that his tweet was good.
About two hours later Bev grabbed the camera and began filming Eddie and Richie for the end of their vlog of the day.
“So, Eds here is about to reveal what you guys want his video to be about.” Richie said doing finger guns to the camera. “Okay drumroll please” He continued, switching to an impression of a ring leader. Bev turned the camera around, catching everyone stomping their feet and patting their laps.
“Well the majority of the people that responded are saying that they want to see the ‘Boyfriend does my voiceover challenge!’” Eddie said letting out a small giggle.
“Cute, cute, cute!” Richie was pinching Eddie’s checks as he spoke. “Hope you guys are ready to see the best damn voiceover in Youtube history” Richie sloppily kissed Eddie;s cheek, both of them laughing the whole time.
“Okay, that’s a wrap from us! See you guys tomorrow, please like and subscribe down below. We’re Reddie’s vlogs and we’re out!”The two said at exactly the same time since they had memorized their outro ages ago.
The following day they began to film Eddie’s video that was featuring Richie. The two sat in Eddie’s office that he always filmed his videos in. It had a pastel pink background, and a bright white table with a few mirrors on it. On both sides there were shelves filled with wigs, brushes, palettes, and so much more. There wasn’t a script for the video because Eddie could handle his intro, and the rest was going to be Richie saying whatever dumb shit came out of his mouth. Since Richie was going to be doing his voiceover Eddie just had fun doing his makeup while talking to Richie and Bev as she filmed the whole thing. It took Eddie about an hour to complete the look, and then he filmed his intro afterwards.
“Wanna film my intro with me?” Obviously Richie said yes because he was practically incapable of saying no to Eddie.
“Hello everyone, it is me Eddie K your favorite MUA, and with me I have Richie the trashmouth Tozier” Eddie spoke at a rather fast pace that made Richie let out a small laugh which only made Eddie laugh.
“I asked you guys on Twitter what you wanted to see for this week’s video, and surprisingly enough, you all wanted to see this idiot do my voiceover.”
Richie smirked to the camera before speaking.”And who am I to disappoint?” Richie winked to the camera, and Eddie only laughed the whole time.
“So, without further ado, let’s get into the video!” Eddie smiled as he watched Bev turn the camera off. Richie and Bev then made their way to Richie’s office where they would film the actual voice over portion of the video while Eddie waited in the living room.
* * * * * * * * * *
“Look at my Eds waving at the camera, looking all cute and shit. So, first he’s putting on lotion to keep his skin nice and soft and all that shit. Wait a minute…that’s my lotion! I used it with his mom last night.” Richie paused the video to wink at the camera before continuing the video. “He’s pouring some tan shit on the back of his hand, uhh i think it’s foundation or something like that. Now he’s fucking pounding it into his face with this marshmallow looking thing.” He stopped the video again and turned to the camera putting on his best Australian accent. “Aye, here we have one of the rarest of makeup marshmallows, completely edible, but hard to swallow.” Both him and Bev started laughing before Richie played the video and continued. “Now he’s putting some lighter tan shit under his eyes, probably to cover up the eye bags he gets from fucking me all night long. Now he’s putting on some powder that’s whiter than Stan the man! I bet you could snort that shit. Holy shit look at my boy kill the game! Look at that contour. Y’all bitches can’t even spell contour. Is he putting shimmery eyeshadow on his cheeks??? What the fuck Eds.” He put on a bad British accent before speaking again. “Look at the lad, bringin’ out his eyes!” He chuckled a bit before averting his attention back to Eddie. “Oh my God, my Eds looks so fucking good with shimmery eyeshadow, it brings out his beautiful chestnut eyes quite nicely. Now he’s putting some black shit on his eyes. Ooh, look at the flicka da wrist, aye, look at the flicka da wrist. Yes look at my spaghetti man! Ohh I know what this is, it’s mascara. W-what is that orange thing? Why is he putting it up to his eye? Eds on’t do it, it’s an orange clockwork torture device! Oh, wait…nevermind, he just made his eyelashes look better. Look at all of those lipsticks he has. Ahh yes, he is choosing the red lipstick to symbolize spaghetti sauce because he is my Eddie spaghetti…I love him so much. And now he is spraying some shit that looks like water on his face. Wow he is gorgeous, look at his cute smile while he’s waving with his little hands aww.” Richie finished gushing over Eddie, and turned off all of the equipment before exiting the room, and Bev followed him out.
“Thanks again for doing this Rich.” Eddie said from where he sat on the sofa when he saw Richie appear in the living room.
Richie walked up to where Eddie was, placing a soft kiss on his lips before speaking. “Anything for you spaghetti.”
That Thursday the video was released, and it was a huge success. People have always loved seeing Eddie and Richie together, and that was very obvious based on the amount of likes, view, and positive comments that the video got. Bev and Bill had been telling them to do more videos together for months now, and maybe they’ll do just that.
**Author's Note:**
> okay heres some cute soft fluffy shit that i adore actually hope you like it lmao |
064107ce12fd4e8a9caca3ac9b80a889 | ['8a9086b214c043ab885fc66b12427fe9'] | Switching to the opposite side of her neck, Jack worked up to her other ear, speaking softly once again, his smooth tone betraying his surging desire to simply pick her up and carry her upstairs to begin the rest of their night… “And after my mouth and my fingers have been thoroughly introduced to your most intimate parts, _ Miss Fisher _ ,” he licked her lobe and hummed. “I’m going to _ finally _ act on a variety of _ very naughty _ fantasies which have plagued me for well over a year, now…”
Thrusting her fingers into his hair, she pulled his head to her mouth, kissing him with abandon while swallowing his groan. She wondered what had taken them so long to get to this point, and she silently berated herself for not pushing the matter sooner. Now that she had him where she wanted him, though, the Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher was going to bestow upon Chief Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, all sorts of _ dis-honorable _ acts.
A car horn honking in the distance brought them back to their surroundings with a start and Jack pulled back, sucking on her bottom lip as he moved. Brushing her nose against his, Phryne marveled at the thick locks of curls that she’d managed to dishevel, tugging just enough to cause his piercing eyes to meet hers.
“Let’s go inside, Jack…” She nipped again, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I believe you have some promises to make good on…”
**Postscript A/N: So I think it’s fair to say that the next installment will definitely change the rating of this little journey… So, while the naughty JazzyMuse hasn’t started on the next installment just yet, I don’t think it will be long before I get back to writing on a more regular basis again.**
**On a different note, I can’t thank you all enough for the lovely messages wishing my family well after you read my previous Author’s Note about my mom being in Hospice. She passed away just one day before her and my dad’s 58th wedding anniversary. It’s been a difficult month, but I’ve tried to keep my mind occupied in helping to edit a friend’s fic as well as spending a bit of time here and there writing this little follow-up. I’ve been a bit out of sorts and absent from Twitter of late, but I hope to be back to normal soon. Thanks again, sending hugs.**
**I know a few of you found me on Twitter already, and I’d love to make connections with others who love Phrack just as much as I do!! You can find menu the same handle as my profile here**
**peace & love, my friends, **
**~jazzy**
3. Stay With Me Tonight, Chpt 3
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> This chapter goes a bit more into the Mature rating, please be aware.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> A/N Hi there. Welcome back. Thanks for your patience. I am still trying to get my JazzyMuse mojo back, I’m having trouble pulling myself out of this funk, but I’m trying.
> I hope you enjoy.
>
> Disclaimer. I still own nothing. Just this story as it wove itself from my brain.
Chapter 3
Pushing the door closed, Jack leaned against it and tugged Phryne to him, spanning his hands wide around her waist, long fingers splaying high up her rib cage before moving up to cradle her jaw carefully. Craning his head, Jack covered her lips with his, moving confidently, encouraged by her enthusiastic response and committed to memory the taste and contours of her mouth.
Never one to stand idly by, Phryne busied herself by running her hands up Jack’s chest, tucking her fingers beneath his jacket and pushing it from his shoulders. With his arms raised to her face, however, his outer armor wasn’t going anywhere. So, instead of focusing on the temporary obstacle, she set her attentions to unbuttoning his waistcoat and tugging at his impeccably knotted tie.
When Jack sensed her growing impatience, he hummed into the kiss and grabbed her eager fingers where they’d proceeded to unbuttoning his shirt. When she growled at her now-immobilized hands, he chuckled.
“ _ Patience _ , Miss Fisher...” He nuzzled against her neck with a smile, and lowered their arms down to their sides.
“I’ve been the very embodiment of patience for _ far _ too many months, _ Inspector _ ,” she smarted back, grinning at their easy rapport despite her desperation to feel more of him. She tilted her head and looked up at Jack, ready to chastise him with a witty quip, but found herself breathless when she saw how dark his eyes had grown.
“Phryne,” his voice had dropped by an octave, his timbre husky and hungry. “We only get this once…”
Her brow wrinkled, instantly misunderstanding his meaning. “ _ Once _ ...?”
Jack amended his declaration with a quick eye-roll. “We only get one _ first night _ , Phryne… Only one first time...”
“Well, of course,” she agreed. “But we can always take our time, Jack… We’ve waited so long already.” She untangled her fingers from his, returning to her previous task of unbuttoning his carefully layered clothing. | 287b9412be4d4436adff6d64b562e3cb | ['8a9086b214c043ab885fc66b12427fe9'] | "I took a nap earlier," she said quietly. "Twice I tried…" She felt the angle of his chin change, and she knew he was listening to her. "Both times I woke startled…" She rolled her lips. "It doesn't make sense, really. It was only a brief assault… It's not like I was taken hostage…" She was trying to find sound reasoning for her inability to relax since her ordeal, but she couldn't. "There should be nothing keeping me from sleeping…" She waited several breaths, soaking in the sensation of his wide hand sweeping up and down her arm. "I kept seeing his face," she confessed meekly. "He keeps threatening to have his way with me…"
Jack squeezed her shoulders tighter, pulling her as close as possible to his side and kissed the top of her mussed brunette hair. "You won't need to worry about that tonight, Miss Fisher," he said, just as quietly. "I'll keep vigil over you. And I'll chase away the nightmares…"
Phryne lifted her face up and studied his kind features, feeling better after his return to her than she had earlier in the evening, with Dot and Mac. "Jack," she rested her hand on his chest, just above the "v" of his waistcoat collar. "I don't want you to keep vigil at my bedside… I want you to hold me. I want to feel your arms around me tonight as I sleep…"
"Phryne," his voice was husky, betraying the calm exterior he was trying to display. "It wouldn't be appropriate for us to share the bed…"
She rushed to place a finger over his mouth. "Just to sleep, Jack. Tonight, I'd just like to sleep in your embrace… I feel safe with you."
Pressing a kiss against the finger holding his lips closed, he inhaled slowly, unable to deny her, as always. With a slight nod, he accepted her proposal and returned the strong hug that she wrapped around him. "Just to sleep, Miss Fisher…"
~MFMM~
Handing him a pair of worn, but obviously cleaned and pressed pajamas, Phryne's cheeks blushed. "I asked Mr. Butler for a pair of men's night clothes, hoping that you would stay with me. It was too late for him to procure a set at the store, so this is one of his sets."
Jack lifted his chin and eyed her knowingly. "Your confidence astounds me, Miss Fisher."
She chuckled and motioned to the bathroom for him. "Mr. B also put out some fresh product for you."
He excused himself and closed the door so he could change. His observational eyes took in everything - the fancy french soaps and body oils, a collection of bath salts, towels and cloths far softer than his own ever were. The thing he noticed first and foremost, however, was the scent - the room smelled like Phryne and as he inhaled deeply, he couldn't help but smile.
When he re-entered the bedroom, Phryne was sitting in place on the bed, looking fresh faced and sweet. She watched him approach, smiling at the somewhat ill-fitting pajamas, but grateful that he was willing to appease her.
"I don't have to report to the station early tomorrow," he said as he circled the bed to the opposite side. "I'm taking most of the day off."
"What time do you need to be there?" She felt her body explode in heat as he slid between the covers.
Settling into the mattress with a happy sigh at the softness, he put one arm behind his head and looked at her. "Whenever you're ready to give your statement about tonight…"
"Oh," she slid down against her pillow, rolling on her side to face him. "I wasn't thinking… You had mentioned it, but I forgot."
"Not to worry," he assured her, extending his arm towards her in a wordless invitation offering his shoulder. Instantly, she scooted closer, curling herself into his side. When he wrapped his arm down around her body, he had to close his eyes and hope for the strength to control his natural bodily reactions to her proximity. "We can worry about that tomorrow, Phryne."
She nodded and draped one arm across his torso, lining herself up against his long body and tucking her leg between his thighs as if they'd been sleeping this way for years. Sighing softly, she sank into him, ready to fall asleep immediately. "I like the way you say my name," she uttered, her words sluggish with sleep. She hummed at his responsive chuckle and splayed her fingers wide across his pectoral muscle. "Good night, Jack."
"G'night, Phryne," he answered, pressing a kiss against her hair and pulling her impossibly closer as he felt her body go slack. "Good dreams," he whispered into her hair and moved his head back to the pillow. Staring at the ceiling, he watched the light from the fireplace dancing across the surface until his eyes grew heavy, and he turned again to bury his nose into the dark halo that so often dominated his dreams. He didn't know what tomorrow was going to bring, but he did know that whatever happened at daybreak, he'd fight to do what was necessary to end up in this same place in the near future.
2. Chapter Two
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> I wasn’t certain I would continue, but there were so many possibilities for the day after Jack spent the night with Phryne... this is just one of the options that the JazzyMuse put together...
**A/N A big thank you to the readers who welcomed me to this fandom and this platform! After receiving such a warm reception, the JazzyMuse was certainly inspired to write a second chapter to “Stay With Me Tonight,” and I dare say, there will be one more chapter… You’ll see why. I hope you enjoy.**
**Disclaimer: I don’t own anything to do with MFMM and mean no copyright infringement!** |
1f0dcec51e8b4788ab0456510b5cae78 | ['8ab31e28a163456bbcfcce99b5006028'] | Despite this decision I still kept elaborating my own theories as I walked past the stairs on my way to work and back home daily. Hence, when the day of meeting my landlord came I had not forgotten my own personal mystery, but, to my disappointment, he couldn’t fill me in any details, those stairs had been there since he could remember. After that fiasco I finally sat in front of my computer to learn about the enigmatic stairway online but my desire for information remained unsatisfied because beyond its rare appearance in some photographs of the station it wasn’t mentioned anywhere in the query results. It seemed I would just have to wait for my curiosity to fade away like the paint on that dirty wall at the bottom of the steps and start to accept the place as part of the cityscape of my neighborhood.
As I stretched myself one morning, still lying on the bed, I looked at my clock to see that I hadn’t heard the alarm go off and now it was almost an hour later than when I usually get up on workdays. I immediately sprang out of bed and run to the shower, that choice meant that I wouldn’t have time to prepare breakfast though so I just grabbed an apple and a bread roll on way out to eat on the train.
I was in a hurry to get to the train platform but as soon as I stepped outside the entrance hall of my apartment building I was approached by a heinously-looking man, a sickening stench emanated from him and both his old clothing and hairstyle were dirty and in disarray.
“Please, could you spare something for an old man?” he simply asked.
For a split second I had feared that this man intended to mug me but my panic abated when he spoke those simple pitiable words. He had to be one of the homeless that were sometimes seen around the station begging for change. He looked so miserable that I couldn’t help but feel brokenhearted. I really didn’t have much money on me to spare so I offered him my bread roll instead. At that he formed a smile.
“Oh, thank you for your kindness! A Hand that Feeds is so unusual these days.” He muttered.
I disregarded his rambles as I wished him a good day and darted to the station to catch the next train. Despite my efforts, in the end I couldn’t avoid arriving late to work so I had to stay extra hours to make up for my unpunctuality, when I returned home I was so tired that I skipped dinner altogether and searched for the comfort of my bed.
The next Saturday night was a particularly warm one so I had left the window of my bedroom open wide while I comfortably sat in my bed reading. My lecture was soon interrupted by the shrill sound of a train stopping in the platform. My parents had been right about the poor living conditions I’d had to endure everyday but thankfully no trains came in or out of the station during the wee hours and they began to be operational again just a tad before sunrise which meant that I could at least enjoy a good night sleep. If I stretched my neck a little I could even see the red over black letters of the sign in the platform which was used to announce when would the next train arrive, currently it only displayed a friendly reminder to the people who were about the board the train to wait till the doors were completely open before stepping inside. No other information was displayed after the train loudly left so that meant that had been the last one for the day.
I casually let my eyes wander over the brick wall of the station before returning to the book waiting in my hands. By chance my gaze stopped at the side of the wall that was at the bottom of the mysterious stairway and I felt a chill down my spine. My distress had not been caused by the now all-too-familiar steps but because of the person who sat at the top of them and whose piercing stare that was fixed on me. It was hard to tell under the dim streetlight of that side of the street and because he sat under the cover of the shadow cast by the wall but I was certain that it was exactly the same beggar that had approached me the other day. Feeling that I had been spied, in an almost involuntary fearful reflex, I closed the shutters of the window.
In spite of my sudden reaction, during the following days I realized that man sitting in the exact same place every night, more often than not looking at my window like a hound waiting for the prey to poke its head out of its hiding hole. Was he thinking of robbing me in my house? Or maybe he was just like those wandering cats that if you had fed them once they kept returning to your house in hopes that you would be as kind to them as you were the first time? If that was the case I just couldn’t understand why wouldn’t he just ask me again personally like he did before, thus the idea of him attacking me and stealing away my few possessions grew all the more stronger. | 93b8e0d695be42edb5bd398e0a4fec81 | ['8ab31e28a163456bbcfcce99b5006028'] | At that moment the younger woman cried in pain as one of the hurlocks sank its sword in her belly. The mother yelled her name as she burst into tears, for some reason, that disturbed the Disciple. She let go of the board and ran towards her dying daughter, while the boy fought even more fiercely against the genlock managing to kill it just in time to face the two hurlocks that already were charging towards his mother.
The mother crouched next to her child and helplessly watched life abandon her. With her face red and hatred in her eyes she took the sword her daughter had been holding and attempted to stab one of the darkspawn that where now trying to gut her son, but he creature saw her coming and elbowed her in the ribs before she had the chance to hit it.
“Mum! Run away!” the boy shouted as he struggled with one hurlock at the same time he tried to make the other one not to attack his mother but that was too much for him. He was thrown off balance and fell to the ground again, at that instant both creatures threw themselves on him and he moved no more.
The Scribe had watched the whole scene in shock, the disturbing feelings were haunting his mind. Mother and Children. Until that moment his mind had related those terms to the Mother and himself and the other darkspawn. Even though he had learned the words, their meaning and the connotations related to them in a book written by the same creatures he was fighting now, it hadn't crossed his mind how real the things he had read were as he had tried to apply them to the creatures surrounding him, but neither his own biological mother nor the other darkspawn knew of this feelings and so he had almost discarded them as an abstract theory or like a fairytale, a beautiful story but nothing else. Now he had this woman in front of him that was more pained for her children than he had ever seen the Mother when she had been told that the First as well as her precious 'Children' had been killed in the marsh. That was another thing that had always him thinking: why did the Mother call 'Children' only to those beings? Did she love them more than she loved the rest? Did she truly love them? While this woman had run to protect her offspring, even if it was hopeless, and had made the younger run away, the Mother carelessly sent hers to war, he suddenly realized that would mean that the Mother did not care about them as much as this human worried about her own, not even her precious 'Children' she had tried to keep from harm.
Another thought crossed his mind at that moment: What about himself? What could be said about him? What was the point of being awakened and becoming sentient if he could not even understand his feelings? The Architect had sent troops to attack Kal'Hirol, his mother was there, shouldn't he be there to protect her like these people had tried to protect their mother? What had happened there? Was she still alive? Didn't he love his mother? Didn't he feel sadness when he tried to talk to her and bring her treats in hopes that she would notice him? Had he done it just because he had read children liked to earn their parents approval or had he actually done it because he truly cared about her?
There was a new feeling inside him, he could sense it crush both his mind and his innards in an even worse way than the day he had felt betrayed by the Architect. It was not anger nor sadness, it was fear. He feared for his mother's life. Yes, he cared about her.
He didn't see what happened with the woman and her children but he heard her scream while he ran away, out of the house, through the streets and into the tunnel they had come from, unaware that by doing this he had just escaped a certain death, for the army of the Mother would be defeated.
He kept running until he nearly collapsed. Pausing every now and then for a brief moment to catch his breath before he continued. Despite his insane pace, it took him almost a day to get to the thaig.
The halls were full with the corpses of darkspawn, whether if they had fought for the Architect or the Mother he couldn't tell, now there was no difference. The scene in the breeding grounds was worse, his mother, all the broodmothers, their bodies smashed under a massive lyrium container.
Again, anger, all of it directed against the Architect, he had done this, hadn't he? Darkspawn killing other darkspawn deliberately, such a 'human' or 'dwarven' thing to do. Their kind had never done this kind of thing before, everything was the Architect's fault! He had said that the Mother had gone crazy, that she couldn't endure the Awakening, well how could she? The Scribe didn't blame her for that, it was already hard enough for him to remain sane without the compelling force of the Song and having to deal with his many thoughts, how could she be calm? He had read about the pains of labor, and broodmothers had to go through giving birth repeatedly. He could imagine that for a mindless creature such as his biological mother it would be almost unbearable but for the Mother who was able of thought the experience had to be a maddening torture, she must have been pleading for the Song to come back and sooth her aching body. What a cruelty to make such being conscious! |
13ab9046af2a4ac3a94172815c2ca062 | ['8ac0b4bec4eb41bd8ed049e16fe5905a'] |
Malicious Compliance
**Author's Note:**
> God, I love EraserMic. It's such a great pairing, and I loved exploring the more private aspects of their relationship. I wanted to consider some less expected sides of the two, so I hope you'll be excited for that. I wrote this as a gift to my best friend, so thanks for giving me motivation to write for this excellent ship!
The status of Aizawa’s and Present Mic’s relationship wasn’t a secret. As teachers, they’d been obligated to inform the school board when they first began dating (though if pressed they would admit that the relationship had begun long before the official statement). Any fellow teacher or pro hero who’d taken the opportunity to talk to them outside of work was fully aware of their status, but in professional settings it was only rational that they didn’t draw unneeded attention to their private lives. It was better if criminals and students alike remained unaware, which was why their wedding bands were stored in a small box on their bed’s headboard, only to be worn on casual outings.
They weren’t a secret, but it was logical not to parade their relationship around. That’s why when Aizawa was returning home from patrol at four in the morning, catching the last hour of “Put Your Hands Up” Radio through one earbud, he had to pause in the doorway when Mic, for the first time in all the ungodly hours he spent jabbering on air, spoke the words, “My husband.”
It was during a segment where he and a guest answered questions their listeners sent in. “‘My wife, whom I recently married, likes to sleep with a fan on. But even a little bit of noise can keep me up all night,’” the guest read aloud. “This can be an issue, can’t it?”
“Sounds like you’re in a real pinch, listener!” Mic said. “Even if your personalities mesh, you won’t know the little things until you’re living together.”
“Lots of people like to run a fan while they sleep, don’t they?”
“Right. My husband is the same way.”
“Yes. So then--”
And that’s all it was. The merest of mentions, hardly acknowledged even by the guest. But for a pro hero with the popularity and media presence of Present Mic, the word was all that was needed, and Aizawa wondered if he realized what he’d done, or if he just didn’t care.
Mic arrived home twenty minutes after Aizawa had fallen asleep and was up and getting ready for his Saturday patrol only five hours later. Usually Aizawa had his own obligations over the weekend, but today he had the rare chance to sleep in. A chance he usually took full advantage of, but on this morning he dragged himself out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom doorway, comforter wrapped around him like a hooded cloak. He watched Mic style his hair in front of the mirror, catching his attention with a deep yawn.
First Mic’s eyes darted to Aizawa’s reflection, then he whirled around, pushing the comb through his do one final time. “Good morning, _my_ _darling_. Isn’t it _too early_ for you to be getting out of bed on your day off? _Sleepy man._ ”
It always took Aizawa a second longer to respond when he peppered English in his sentences, but his silent stare didn’t seem to be coming to an end any time soon. Usually on Saturdays, Aizawa let him know if and how much he managed to catch of his show, and Mic had been eager to know if he’d heard his reference to him. Had, in fact, been excited to surprise Aizawa the moment he’d decided he was going to allude to his marriage for the first time on air. But from his unreadable expression Mic imagined he was being reprimanded.
Of course he knew there was the possibility that Aizawa would hate the reference, but since he didn’t refer to him by name he decided there was nothing wrong with it. So like hell he was going to make him feel guilty for what was clearly a sweet gesture.
Aizawa blinked slowly. The least he could do was say something about it if it was bothering him. Mic pushed his way past and out of the bathroom. “I wish you wouldn’t drag the blanket on the floor like that, you know.”
It was late when Mic returned. Aizawa was in the middle of grading assignments when the front door opened, closed, and lock-lock-locked in record time, followed by a ragged, whining sigh. Mic stepped into the living room with a sharp, toothy frown and eyes red enough to rival his husband’s after a showdown with a villain.
“Tough day?” Aizawa asked.
Mic shed his leather jacket, draping it on the back of the couch before draping himself across the cushions. “Damn paparazzi.”
Aizawa sat on the floor with his back against the couch. He’d turned to look back at Mic, but upon those words, he gave a curt, “Ah,” and returned to his stack of papers.
Mic pushed up on his arms. “Ah? Is that all you’ve got to say?”
“You divulged personal information on live radio. You should’ve expected this outcome.”
So he did know. Mic groaned. “Those trashy gossip bloggers are having a field day. Damn media sharks don’t care about anybody’s privacy or well-being as long as they can sell their stories. And yeah, yeah, if I hate it so much why do I hold the most illogical occupation to have simultaneously with being a pro hero, a job that already makes privacy a luxury unless you remain underground, which is, of course, the most logical course of action.” | 639aa1e740ea4267b4e0eeee9b79b72b | ['8ac0b4bec4eb41bd8ed049e16fe5905a'] | The last hallway was easy. There were only four rooms instead of eight, but only one door opened. This must have been an office hallway, because the room that Rick found himself in was smaller than the patient rooms and had only a desk with a computer chair and some empty shelves. The doll sat in the chair, its whole upper body slumped forward onto the desk with its arms crossed under its head like it had fallen asleep while working. It made Rick wish he could take a nap. This one’s fruit was on the back of its head. It took Rick a moment of staring at the image under his glow stick to determine that the round, purple fruit was a plum. He pocketed it.
He returned to the waiting room with the five fruit, one from each hall. “OK what now?” he muttered, pulling the note out of his back pocket and opening it up. But there was no further explanation. “What now? What now? Come on, Morty. Give me something.” As people, plenty stray off. What did it mean? Can stray people still hold fruit? He had the fruit. He paced about the waiting room, staring at the note, knocking the back of the axe head against chairs as he passed, feeling the twinging of his hip and ankle. This cryptic stuff was not his strong suit, and as much progress as he had thought he was making, it all clearly was a waste of time. He was no closer to Morty. Panic boiled to anger inside him, and he swore the next time he caught up with Morty, he was going to grab the little shit’s arm till it bruised to keep him from running off again.
Rick’s pacing led him to the children’s corner, and his eyes fell on the stump-shaped table. There was a book on it that he recognized easily. It was a popular children’s book about a caterpillar that ate a lot. Ate a lot of-
Quickly, and against the protests of his joints, Rick plopped down on one of the cushions and snatched up the book. He flipped open the thick cover and skimmed the familiar text. He flipped to the next page, the page where the first fruit should have been shown. Instead, the thick page had a round indentation where the picture should have been. The place where the text named the fruit was scratched to hell with a black pen. The next four pages were the same, the names of the fruits scratched out, along with the numerically increasing pictures shown on each page. Each page ended with an indentation perfectly sized for the paper coins in Rick’s pocket. But there was no way he would know which coin to put in which page. He wasn’t familiar enough with the book. Maybe if he’d been around more when Beth was that young...
“The fuck does it even matter?” Rick grumbled. “What does putting pictures in a kids’ book have to do with anything?”
He slammed the book on the table, staring at that first page with its empty indentation. He pulled the coins from his pocket and scattered them on the table, then pulled the note from his back pocket and slapped it open on the table as well. He needed to think. As people, plenty stray off. As people, plenty stray off. As. Apple.
“Son of a bitch.” Rick picked up the apple coin and stuck it in the first page’s indentation. Its edges seemed to meld into the page, and Rick blinked several times as he watched a tiny circle carve itself into the center of the apple before popping out, leaving the image with a hole in the center. He remembered this. The holes were the caterpillar’s bites. He turned to the next page, where there should have been two pictures of the second fruit, but the first was scribbled out and the second was an empty slot. The next word was “people” but he had a pear and a plum.
Well. Clearly, it was the pear coin that went on this page. He put it in, watched it meld to the page before hole-punching itself, then quickly turned to the next page and stuck the plum in the slot. “Plenty”, plum. This really was child’s play.
The next page was the strawberry, and after that, the orange. Rick slipped the orange into its slot. “OK,” he breathed, watching it meld into place, “w-w-what happens now? This better have a damn point.” The little hole popped in the center of the orange, and in Rick’s hands the page turned. From here, all but the final pages had been torn out, and portrayed across that final two-page spread was a butterfly. Its body sat in the center, while the wings, black with luminous blue circles, stretched onto the pages on either side. The wings didn’t span the full length of their pages, however. Instead, the bug's size was much more modest, as if a real butterfly had landed in the book. And just as Rick was thinking this, the butterfly folded its wings, closed then open. Rick rose his brow at this, his mouth falling open as he watched the butterfly rise from the pages and flutter softly in the air.
The butterfly began to float across the waiting room, over the chairs and toward the wall with the hallways. Rick sat the book on the table, picked up his axe, and rose to his feet. With a second thought, he also grabbed the note, folding it and stuffing it back in his pocket. He didn’t need it anymore, but something silly in his head made him want to keep it. The butterfly fluttered to the entrance of the fourth hallway, and Rick followed it down.
“What y-you think I didn’t already check everything in this hall?” |
d2af506c2ff5475897fe3b12275b0baa | ['8ac6dfbf03c44c6b8b010b9eb49ec859'] | Teddy must read something in his expression, because he lets out a breath and starts to take a step backwards, prompting Billy’s hand to shoot out unconsciously and grab onto the edge of his sleeve. Teddy freezes, and Billy goes rigid against the cold bricks, fingers trembling where they’re gripping the rough wool of Teddy’s coat.
“No,” he says hoarsely. “It doesn’t. I know that’s not you, Teddy.”
Teddy’s face is obscured by the steam of their combined breath when he replies, “Sometimes I wonder.”
“It’s _not_ ,” Billy repeats emphatically. “Hey. Remember what you told me, after Tommy went all mad-dog on Kessler?”
Teddy doesn’t say anything, just looks at him, and Billy realizes that they’re _close_ , so close he can’t maintain eye contact without his eyes crossing, and Teddy’s hands are on either side of his head – when did _that_ happen? – but his elbows are locked, he’s not moving any closer. Waiting, Billy realizes, for him to say something.
“You said – ” oh, fuck, what was it Teddy said? Something really smart – something Billy’s vodka-addled brain cells aren’t putting together right now – something about family? Protection? “ – Shit, I don’t actually remember, but it made a lot of sense at the time.”
Teddy laughs. “Glad to know I made such an impression.”
Billy groans. “Shut _up_ , you did, okay, I’m just drunk, don’t listen to me…ugh, sorry, I’m terrible at this.” He squirms a little, dropping Teddy’s sleeve and fisting his hands at his sides. His dick is tenting furiously in his jeans, he needs Teddy to touch him, kiss him, _anything_.
He inhales shakily, and Teddy’s gaze drops to his mouth.
_Please_. They’re like, six inches apart, he’s _got_ to, no way he’d get this much in Billy’s space if he wasn’t planning on making a move.
Except, after a few seconds, Teddy pushes back from the wall and rocks onto his heels, glancing out at the entrance to the street. His cheeks are pink from the chill, and the steam of his breath pours out as thick and steady as if he were standing there having a cigarette.
Billy stares at him, wonders for about three seconds if he’s about to make a terrible, terrible mistake, and then throws it all out the window.
He expects Teddy to jerk in surprise, or possibly protest, when he deliberately grabs him by the front of his coat and pulls him forward, but Teddy’s body comes flush against his without the slightest resistance, and then their mouths are pressed together, _finally_ , and he’s tasting hot breath that isn’t his own, and Teddy’s face is _freezing_ , but his lips are soft and warm.
Billy lets out a moan and Teddy crowds tighter into his space, pulling the air out of his lungs, one hand on Billy’s hip and the other snaking into the back of his hair – he may have started this, but Teddy’s the one doing the kissing now; Billy’s just along for the ride. He’s dizzy, breathless – actually breathless, he realizes, he can’t fucking breathe. He jerks his mouth away from Teddy’s, gasping, and then has to bite back a whimper when he feels something solid in Teddy’s jeans that is definitely _not_ Teddy’s wallet jutting into the soft flesh next to his hip.
“ _Teddy_ – ”
Teddy nips gently at his jaw, he knows it’s rough with stubble, wonders if that turns Teddy on, wonders what _else_ turns Teddy on.
“You want to get out of here?” he murmurs, trying to make his voice low and seductive. “Go back to my place?”
Teddy’s lips go still against his, and then he pushes back, a funny expression painting his features.
Billy tries again. “Your place? I’m not picky.”
“Um.” Teddy coughs, and Billy feels the dull edge of panic when he slowly withdraws his hands. “I’m not sure, Billy…we’ve been drinking, I mean,” he glances anxiously at Billy and then continues staring at the space next to Billy’s head, “I want to, but I don’t want to give you the wrong idea here.”
_Oh_.
Evidently, Kessler’s not the only one getting the wind knocked out of him tonight.
“Billy? Are you – ”
“Yeah, no, it’s,” Billy swallows. “It’s good. You’re right. That – that was my bad.”
Teddy frowns. “No, I didn’t mean – I just, this isn’t something I want to screw up.”
“Believe me, I get it,” Billy says tiredly. Disappointment is flooding through him, making him feel sick to his stomach. “I’m actually not feeling so hot, I think I’d better get home.”
“Okay,” Teddy replies, still sounding uncertain. “I’ll walk you.”
He finds he doesn’t have it in him to argue.
When Teddy says goodbye to him on the bottom step of his building’s stoop, he almost wants to cry. _God_ , why did Teddy have to go and ruin it like that? Billy knew what this was, he’s not deluded, if all Teddy wanted was sex, he could’ve worked with that. Friends with benefits; that’s a thing, right? Billy could’ve made that work. But no, Teddy has to go and be Mr. Chivalrous, _I don’t want to screw up our friendship, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, this isn’t the epic romance you’ve clearly been fantasizing about_.
It’s ironic, he thinks as he rides up in the elevator, because it’s a variation of the speech he neglected to give to Teddy earlier that week. Billy wonders why, just once, he can’t learn his valuable life lesson _and_ get the guy. | be56ca4a7395474f8152eba22409568e | ['8ac6dfbf03c44c6b8b010b9eb49ec859'] | The banter continues that way, friendly and familiar, and Billy is half-convinced he’s the only one who feels like they’re skirting around the edge of something. On Wednesday it’s the same – easy laughs over whether Christopher Nolan ever even bothered to pick up a Batman comic book; how the entire _Alien_ franchise could’ve been avoided if a single crew member had seen fit to listen to Ripley, the religious experience they both went through upon seeing _Deathly Hallows II_ for the first time. It shouldn’t leave a funny feeling in the pit of Billy’s stomach when Teddy hands him Tommy’s leash at the end of the evening and waves goodbye, or even when they all walk back to Billy’s together and Teddy leans on the wall outside Billy’s stoop like it’s as close as he wants to get, but it does all the same, especially since Teddy seems so utterly _oblivious_. Contrary to putting Billy’s mind at ease, he’s fairly sure he’s starting to go a little bit crazy.
When he gets home on Wednesday evening, he’s sweating from his, in hindsight, ill-formed decision to take the stairs with Tommy, to wear them both out a little bit more. He needs to sleep tonight, not stay up stressing over Teddy. It’s not healthy.
Unfortunately, one look at his door tells him that peaceful slumber isn’t going to be an option. Bright red, dripping letters have been spray-painted across the slate-grey wood, and he feels their message like a physical blow, a jeer that makes him duck his head on instinct.
_FAG_.
Next to him, Tommy whimpers, and Billy pulls out his phone to snap a picture (evidence, evidence, evidence – something he wishes he’d never had to learn in high school) and then somehow, he finds his thumb hovering over the little _Teddy_ icon in his contact list. He won’t be more than a couple blocks away by now – it would be easy, really, for him to double back, and Billy knows he would, knows he’d come running in a heartbeat if Billy called him right now and told him what’d happened.
Which is precisely the reason he pockets his phone and pulls out his keys instead, unlocking the door and putting the ugly word behind them. He’s not going to exploit Teddy’s goodness, not going to let anything happen between them on the basis of Teddy feeling _sorry_ for him. That’s just a disaster waiting to happen.
***
On Thursday, his super has managed to paint over the slur, but there’s a pile of garbage sitting outside his door, and it smells like someone peed on it. The super leaves Billy to clean that one up for himself, and as he’s hauling the two bags of refuse into the alley with rubber gloves on, he gets a smirk from Kessler, who’s on his way in.
Not that Billy had any doubts about who was going out of their way to make his life miserable, but it still makes his skin crawl. He can’t prove anything, and Kessler knows it. He knows how these things go. This is only the beginning.
***
On Friday at three thirty AM, someone bangs on Billy’s door so hard he’s jolted awake, and Tommy flies out of the bed to bark viciously at the door. The banging only goes on for a few seconds, but it’s nearly two hours before Tommy is settled enough to fall back asleep, and Billy stays sitting in bed, eyes wide open, thoughts racing, until it’s time to drop his dog off and go to work.
“You okay?” Teddy asks, frowning a little as Billy yawns for the fourth or fifth time.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Billy replies in what he suspects is an unconvincing tone. He’s almost too tired to care. “Uh, if it’s okay, I was thinking about maybe starting to board Tommy here five days a week, instead of just the three.”
“Of course, it’s no problem,” Teddy says quickly. “Is he getting too restless at your place?”
“Yeah,” Billy says again, and this time he knows Teddy doesn’t believe him at all. “Well, sort of – I just don’t want him to be alone all day. I’m worried about him.”
It’s the truth, actually. He hasn’t forgotten Kessler’s threats towards Tommy, doesn’t want to know how far he’ll go in his crusade against Billy. Better not to underestimate him, not to take any chances.
“Worried about him…getting lonely?” Teddy presses, like he knows Billy’s not telling him something.
Billy sighs. “Just…worried.”
“Billy, what’s going on?”
“It’s nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “Look, I’ve got to go to work, but – ”
“You can tell me later,” Teddy says firmly, straightening up. Something curls in Billy’s chest, a mixture of desire and dread. “We’re still hanging out, right?”
Billy nods tightly.
“Cool. I think they’re doing live music down at Our Place tonight. Want to maybe check it out?”
Our Place is a gay bar that got popular enough to hardly be considered a gay bar anymore, or at least, no more a gay bar than any other popular singles bar in Manhattan. Billy’s had mixed experiences there, but the music’s consistently good, and it might be just what he needs to get his mind off things. He says “All right, sounds good,” and then he really does have to go to work.
Because the universe hates him, he misses his train by a fraction of a second and ends up being ten minutes late, which wouldn’t be a huge deal, except that he and Jesse were supposed to go over mockups for potential bus ads at nine AM exactly so that they could present them together at their nine-fifteen meeting. |
a3e5095ce0554e6c8898c8e01e8cd6a0 | ['8ac90e4c6da2454aae4a38cb9f735837'] | "So." He starts pausing to take a breath big enough to fill his lungs.
"I don't know." She says hastily not wanting to leave an awkward silence.
"I don't either." He admits. "I guess we should talk. Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow." She promises.
"Well, here it is." Don says as his apartment building comes into view.
"Here it is." She says as he gets out the cab.
"See you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow." She smiles as the cab door closes.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thanks for reading!
10. Neal and Jim and Gary and Jim/ Hallie
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Jim has never watched Batman.
"You haven't seen batman?"
"I'm more of a marvel guy."
"Let me reiterate that. You, self proclaimed nerd, has "never" seen batman?"
"It's really not that shocking, and I have never called myself a nerd, you and Maggie seem to have created that out of thin air." Jim says trying to defend himself.
"I'm not sure it was created 'entirely' out of thin air."
"Do you have the statics on-" Gary asks walking over to Jim's desk cutting Neal off.
"Jim's never seen Batman." Neal suddenly juts in.
"What? Come on, you've never seen Batman? I thought you were in to all that comic book shit."
"Comic books aren't 'shit'." Jim says a little too loudly as people turn to look. "When I was 'a lot' younger I only read Marvel Comics." He adds lowering his voice a little.
"But you haven't even seen the movies?" Gary asks. "Even I've seen the movies and I'm the coolest person on this floor."
"That could be disputed." Neal adds to which Gary just raises his eyebrows in response.
"Gary don't you need those statistics?" Jim asks handing Gary a few sheets of paper.
"I guess but I'm more interested in-" he pauses looking at Jim's facial expression. "You know what I should probably ask Kendra something. Kendra!" He calls in the general direction of her desk.
"I'm getting you to watch the movies." Neal says a moment later after they've both got back to work.
"I will put that on my list of things that probably but almost definitely won't happen." Jim sasses not looking up from his screen.
\--
Three years later he gives in. Not to Neal, no he'd never give him the satisfaction. But to Hallie because her hair the color of goodness and she makes him smile a lot more than he'd care to admit.
It's a lazy Sunday afternoon, and the August heat makes it hard to think despite the air conditioning being on full and blowing her hair into blonde tangles. "Do you want to watch a movie." She asks throwing herself down on the couch.
"Sure." He replies.
"What should we watch?"
"Something set someone where cold." He moans.
"Cool Runnings." She says after a pause.
"Isn't that set in Jamaica?"
"Only the majority if it."
"What about Mama Mia?" Hallie suggests after they search Netflix for way too long.
"No, the main character reminds me way too much of you and it freaks me out."
"I didn't think you'd have watched Mama Mia."
"It was a long plane journey." He says shaking his head at the memory. "What about Sophie's Choice?"
"I don't do sad films. What about one of those super hero movies you and Neal like?"
"Yeah, alright, which one?"
"I don't know I quite like Batman."
"Not D.C."
"What?"
"I only watch Marvel movies."
"Why?"
"Because."
"Snob." She says playfully hitting him with a cushion.
"Will you not even watch Batman for me?" She asks with a smile.
"Ok." He says typing it into Netflix, it really is unfair the power she has over him. "You have to promise not to tell Neal that I watched Batman though."
"Why- you know what I won't ask."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thanks for reading!
11. Elliot and Don
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Elliot gives Don relationship advice. Set on the morning of Election Night.
"What are you reading?" Don asks striding into his office at 7AM, only faintly surprised by Elliot sitting in his chair with his feet on his desk.
"Hyperinflation in the Weimar Republic: the economics of post World War I Germany. It's an exhilarating read, the author really knows his stuff. Or..." He flicks to the front cover. "Her stuff. This is Sloan's book." He adds raising his eyebrows and pausing for a second giving Don a chance to explain himself. "Now, for what reason would you, a guy who's never been anywhere near an economics book in his life, have a copy of a book written by someone with two PhDs in the subject?" He questions, cornering Don in the same way he'd corner a senator live on air.
"I don't know she must have left it in here." Don says as he mentally rushes for an answer that doesn't make him sound crazy.
"Is that the answer you really want to go with?" Elliot sighs sounding slightly disappointed that his EP couldn't cook up a better story.
"Well, there are so many copies of this book and only so many places where a copy could be therefore there is a chance that a copy would have ended up in someone's office. It's the law of averages." Don rambles just enough to show how little sleep he's been getting post Genoa.
"You mean the law of large numbers."
"Whatever."
"So it's got nothing to do with Sloan donating a copy of the book to the Sandy Relief auction?"
"How do you know that's what she donated?" Don retorts.
"Friends in high places." Elliot smirks. "My mother in law's part of the comity that helped organized it, I was there." He adds after Don gives him a glare that signals he's not taking any crap today. "Sidney Falco-" Elliot starts. | 483501dae20d4958b53dd4f3218733b4 | ['8ac90e4c6da2454aae4a38cb9f735837'] |
Not Perfect But Right
Freddie had never in his living memory liked the idea of church. As soon as he could he stopped going, the only exception being his mothers funeral and the very rare occasion that Bel dragged him along. But apart for those events he managed to avoid it. He never liked the idea of God and investing ones faith in something he wasn't quite sure about, well- It was never going to be something he was going to do well.
She went though. Not routinely. Once a month at best. She would take a seat at the back at the edge of the pew and try and hide away. She did not hide because she was ashamed of herself for her lack of attendance or because she did not want to be seen but simply because hiding gave her some peace. Her life was assembled by different fragments that had somehow built into a mis-match wall with the slightest blow of just the right amount of wind could topple over and engulf them all.
For once in her life she even felt like she fitted in at church. The high number of men to women ratio and being in a place where it was pretty much 50/50 meant she didn't stick out like a sore thumb and occasionally she liked that, the feeling of simply being another passer by. The way that in church ones power didn't become before ones personal qualities.
How many ever times Freddie expressed his feelings about all the floors of religion and how many ever times she questioned her own belief, she always returned. And the truth was she was never quite sure why. She convinced herself that it was because it had been ingrained on her from such a early age, ever since she could remember she would be dressed up and marched along to church.
But she still wasn't sure how she could doubt something so much yet still get lured back to it time after time. He told her it was because she could think of no better answers. And she would always question him what answers he had and he would reply with, he didn't quite know yet but he was sure something would come along.
It wasn't that Freddie flat out dismissed the idea of there being a God as there wasn't any proof against the idea yet but the fact that there was no proof for meant he could never 100 percent agree with it. He quite liked the idea of churches being about lots of people coming together (that being the only part he liked) but if he was being completely honest; he did like a good old hymn to sing along to. And when he was dragged along by Bel he did sing his heart out which earned him nudges in the ribs and glares from Bel. And then the reminder afterwards that he was tone death and could not sing for toffee. He would then tease about how her voice was not much better, but it was. She had a very good singing voice that she carried around with her.
Sometimes he tried to persuade her sing in some sort of organized group or event, once even giving her a flyer for a local choir, but she never did anything about it. He told her it was a shame and she shouldn't waste good but she would always murmur something about being too busy in reply.
It probably wasn't so much timing he thought to himself occasionally it was more the social aspect of it. Out of the two of them she defiantly had the better social skills. She could talk to heads of states and even BBC commissioners in the most sophisticated of ways, causing even them to watch her in and ponder, but she was always suspicious. She always believed that someone wanted a part of her. That was the problem. She couldn't find it in herself to be surrounded by a large group of nice, normal people. It was a sad fact, but it was part of Bel Rowley. Part of her allure.
In turn this also effected men she choice to allow into her life the "stupid bloody bankers" as Freddie called them. They did all want a part of her as such but it was a part she was willing to give and usually no one was ever damaged and if they were she would make sure it wasn't her. She did not do it to be selfish. Bel Rowley spent her life thinking of other people's actions and reactions.
There was something different though when she met Hector Madden. The man with the face that could hold a nation, the man with the voice and charisma that could get him almost anywhere. That time she let herself slip slightly off centre. Because for all of Hector's perfections there was truly something curious about him, something that made Bel talk herself into wanting to understand him.
She did once lay awake at night thinking that maybe Hector and her could run away to France together, and be like a couple from one of those terrible books her mother read. She wasn't quite sure why through, maybe it was the way his shirts hugged her body in a way that Freddie's shirts never could or maybe it was the way that together they did look like something from a film, not Casino Royale, but a star filled Hollywood blockbuster. Something felt right when she was with Hector. Not perfect but right. She may have even at one point if asked, said that she loved him or some other naive superlative about intense emotions for another human being. But that would have very probably been manic-impulse.
Freddie on the other hand was very careful with women. So careful in fact that Lix Storm had been the first. He would never tell anyone of course, not even Bel, (although he guessed that she already new it). Hand on heart up to point of asking Camille to marry him it had really "only ever been her."
He thought it was love that night on the bank of the Seine, because how was he supposed to know if it wasn't? It was not the same feeling he had for Bel but it was something he had never felt before and so anyone in that situation would assume it as love. He didn't have wild dreams about his future with Camille like he did about Bel involving sea planes, Lucern and Gilbert and Maude, but just not having wild dreams did not mean they were not in love after all they were just wild dreams.
There was a mist in Paris one he could never quite seem to escape. The overpowering smell of perfume and the light of the city seemed to haze his eyes and mind. Maybe that's why he married Camille.
Whenever he thought of Paris it somehow always linked back to the night he told Bel about Camille, red lipstick, whiskey and a smile on her lips that translated to "the night is ours, lets waste our precious youth" she came promising to let the world have her. She was about to leap. Then Camille came holding a knife, wearing only a jumper. From that moment on he knew Bel was the friend he once had.
When the buzz in his life slowed down and he was given time to think he couldn't help his mind wondering back to the days before The Hour the days before Hector and Camille, and he would remember how simple it had all been. His life ran like clockwork. He would bicker with George up to the point of him "losing his job" then rant about it with theatrical hand gestures to Bel, at some point he would mange to write a story, then of course followed by the show itself and then he would either go home to his ever worsening father or drink him self silly and dance all night with Bel.
They would go home together some nights when the stars formed pictures in the sky and the light drifted though her hair. All most always back to hers, they would then proceed to waste the rest of the night drinking cheap wine and smoking the last of their cigarettes. He could not possibly at the time comprehend how he could have been happier.
Although they didn't like to admit it they were both fragile people, Bel and Freddie. They were not the kind of fragile that meant that they would be broken by words and wars but the kind that could never quite sit still for long enough. It was not through lack of trust (their faith in each other proved that) it was more their eminence sense of suspicion, their feeling that everyone had a story and how could anyone's be good.
That was why they needed each other. That was what had kept them side by side for so long, because even if it was their job to question everything , they both needed someone who would always be right next to them; be their steady seance of reassurance that everything was good with the world.
Their relationship was the most complicated yet simplest of things. On one hand it, was simply two people who cared for each other yet; it was crazy and impossible and simultaneously exquisite. They could go from a bickering old couple to brother and sister to soul-mates desiring to be together every time one of them flicked their tongue. Because no matter what, Bel Rowley and Freddie Lyon were special people. They were going to change the world and when questioned "how?" Their reply would always be "just you wait and see." |
2d15039dbf3446e3a96f5763ea315486 | ['8ad80b124f434829847d958b69660c9b'] | ‘Don’t...’ Eren said, torn apart, but he couldn’t finish his words, because Levi’s lips were on his; greedy, needy, ravenous. No words were necessary for what came next. Levi, finally freed from the prison of memory loss, took back what had been taken from him six years ago, and Eren was more than willing to give it to him.
Afterwards, they lay on Eren’s coat together, almost falling asleep and enjoying each other’s presence and warmth, welcoming the mild pain which proved they were truly together again.
‘I missed you so much,’ Eren said. ‘I was dead inside, all those years.’
‘Hush,’ Levi said. ‘I’m here now.’
_But you have a wife. And I know how you think about duties and commitments. You’ll never leave her._
They made love once more before setting off to the coast.
Eren had no idea how long this could go on without Lida finding out. They returned more often than not without any fish, busy as they were with making up for six lost years. Eventually she started complaining to her husband about his declining earnings, and when one day she came to the harbour, discovering Eren still present, even working for him, she exploded in anger. ‘You’re ruining everything!’ she shrieked. ‘My life, my marriage! We’re fighting all the time! Why did you have to come looking for him? Why did you come here? Why couldn’t you just leave us alone? We had a good life, frugal but happy, until you arrived! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?’
‘Lida,’ Levi said. ‘Hold your tongue. Everyone is looking at you.’
‘I don’t care! Everyone is allowed to know how that monster ruined everything!’
Levi took her arm and lead her away from the crowd.
_She’s right. It’s all my fault. I was selfish. He was perfectly happy in this life. I had no right to mess with that. I should have returned home as soon as I found out he’s alive and well._ He docked the boat and stayed on board, like he always did, sleeping in the cabin until it was time to set off for the fishing grounds. He thought about leaving, and felt his heart break into pieces imagining the rest of his life without Levi. _I’ve said goodbye once already. I’m not sure I can handle a second time._ He wept like a child.
He woke up from a hand on his shoulder. ‘Eren,’ Levi said.
‘Captain,’ Eren mumbled, still drowsy.
‘You have to keep a low profile for a while. Just stay on the boat and don’t show yourself in the harbour.’
‘She told you to send me away.’
‘I...’ Levi sighed deeply. ‘I can’t leave her.’
‘Do you love her?’ Eren knew he had to ask.
‘Of course. I wouldn’t marry a woman I don’t love.’
‘But?’
‘There’s no but. I found myself entangled in a love triangle and at this point I don’t know what to do about it.’
_Of course I hoped you loved me more than you ever loved her, but I’m naive as ever._ He tried to hide his tears from the captain.
‘Hey,’ Levi kissed his tears away. ‘Don’t cry. I’m not worth crying over.’
‘Stop kissing me,’ Eren said. ‘Stop doing all those things to me. I can’t...’
‘I know.’ Levi lay down on the floor next to Eren, his fingers fumbling for Eren's hand. ‘I know, brat. What a terrible situation we found ourselves in.’
Summer ended and autumn arrived, with dropping temperatures, increasing wind and rain-filled clouds.
‘Listen, Eren,’ Levi said one day, on their way back. ‘I want you to book a room in that tavern of yours.’
‘Why?’
‘For once I want to sleep in a real bed with you.’ He reached out and pulled Eren close for a kiss. ‘Instead of this cold hard floor.’
Eren smiled quietly. They’d made love on the deck floor all the time without ever noticing their surroundings.
As soon as they entered the harbour, Eren hopped off the boat and went straight to the tavern, where he booked a room for the night. He had dinner and waited for Levi to arrive, but he didn’t show up until just after midnight.
‘Lida can’t know,’ he said as he embraced and kissed his lips. ‘I had to wait until she slept.’
‘You’re here now,’ Eren said, and after that there was only the sound of their moans and kisses, and the creaking of the bed.
Eren woke up in an empty bed. He immediately knew something was off. ‘Levi,’ he whispered, but there was no answer. It was still dark and the wind made the shutters squeak. _Did he go back home after all?_ It didn’t feel right, not after everything they’d done that night, all the words that were spoken, the promises they’d made. _He said he loved me._ He got up, unable to sleep anymore. _He said he loved me more than he’d ever loved her._ He closed the door behind him and went out, to the boat, where Levi should be arriving anytime soon as well. The wind pulled his coat and hair, and he could see the white lines of breaking waves in the distance.
His heart sunk to his stomach when he found the dock empty. _He left without me._ ‘Levi!’ The waves didn’t answer and a gush of wind almost blew him off the pier. He searched the horizon, convinced the boat couldn’t have sailed far yet, but the darkness was too dense and on top of that it started raining. He stood there for who knows how long until reality sank in. _He knew a storm was coming and he wanted me to be safe._ | 39da22749b144f709315d174aaaacff3 | ['8ad80b124f434829847d958b69660c9b'] | He looked up and saw an old man at his gate, a hunchback with a thin white beard.
‘Good afternoon.’
‘Are you my new neighbour?’
‘I guess,’ he said.
‘I live in the house behind the stream,’ the old man said.
‘Then we must be neighbours.’
‘Are you Kenny’s boy?’
‘His nephew. Levi.’
‘Nice to meet you.’ The old man seemed barely able to stand, and had to hold on to the fence in order not to fall over.
‘I think you should sit down for a moment,’ Levi said, opening the gate and leading the old man to a log he used as a bench.
‘I’m 88 years old,’ the old man laughed. ‘And this is the first time someone supports me as I’m sitting down.’
‘Can I offer you something to drink?’
‘Just water. I haven’t been drinking anything else all my life.’
Levi collected two cups of fresh water from the stream and sat next to him on the log as they drank it.
‘So how did you end up here, Levi?’
‘I...’ He was reluctant to share his failed life with a stranger. ‘I was uncle Kenny’s only heir.’ _Though I never knew him. I must have met him when I was a little boy, but I can’t even remember. I lost my job and my home and then I inherited this small house..._ ‘When I saw the house, I decided to stay.’
‘Well, your life must have been a mess then, if this was the better alternative,’ the old man cackled.
Levi got the uncomfortable feeling the old man could look right through him. ‘Perhaps,’ he said, reluctantly.
‘I’ve lived here all my life and I haven’t been unhappy one single day – a bit lonely at most,’ the old man said. ‘But you look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. I promise you this: if you decide to stay here, I’m certain you’ll end up happy as well.’
_I cannot even imagine what happiness is,_ Levi thought, but then he remembered his awe when he first saw the view from his bedroom window.
‘I think I just noticed the birth of a smile,’ the old man sniggered. ‘But for now I’m leaving you. At my age, things take a lot more time, so although I can’t really say I’m _busy_ , I must admit everything takes at least twice the amount of time it used to when I was your age.’ He got up and wobbled to the gate. ‘Come along when you feel like it. My door is always open. I can see you’re a thinker, not a talker, but your company is enjoyable anyway.’
‘Thank you, ojiisan,’ Levi said, which made the old man laugh again.
‘Next time we meet, I’ll tell you about your uncle,’ he said as he left.
Levi leaned on the broomstick as the old man disappeared behind the shrubbery. _How did he know I never really knew uncle Kenny?_ He didn’t feel uncomfortable though. The old man knew to keep his distance anyway and didn’t make him feel obliged.
~~~
The first time he went to see his old neighbour was after a heavy thunderstorm, which had torn a piece off his roof. After fixing it, he went to check on his neighbour.
‘Good morning, ojiisan,’ he said as he arrived. The old man sat on a stool, enjoying the morning sun, two or three fat chickens scrabbling around him in the grass.
‘Good morning, boy. Did you get any sleep last night?’
‘Hardly,’ Levi said, sitting next to the man on the porch. ‘The thunder was too loud. And I had a leak. The rain was pouring in.’
‘My roof is fine,’ the old man said. ‘I guess that’s why you came here for today.’
‘I did,’ Levi said. ‘Don’t you want me to check anyway?’
‘You have a good heart. I could see that the first time we met.’
Levi didn’t know what to answer.
‘There _is_ something you can do for me,’ the man said. ‘I’ve grown cabbages but they’re too heavy. If you could pick one for me and bring it to my kitchen, I’ll give you half.’
‘I have my own cabbages...’
‘Don’t decline a friendly offer, Levi-kun.’ Ojiisan looked at him as he got up. ‘You’ve done that too often in your life, I can see that. And now you think all your misfortune is just bad luck. And I say it’s all your own doing.’
Levi felt a spark of annoyance, but decided to ignore it and walked around the house to find the cabbages.
‘I sell some of my vegetables at the market from time to time,’ ojiisan said when he returned, as if nothing had happened. ‘No one can live without money entirely. Clothes and candles and rice can’t be grown in the backyard.’
‘For now I don’t really need anything,’ Levi said as he sat down again, ‘but I’m grateful for the information.’
‘Your uncle was a bit of a scrooge,’ ojiisan laughed. ‘He never shared. I hope you’re nothing like him.’
‘Tell me about my uncle,’ Levi said. ‘I didn’t really know him.’
‘Nor he you,’ ojiisan said. ‘He never spoke of any kin. He did mention a sister once or twice.’
‘That must have been my mother. She died when I was six.’
‘And now I fear you’re going to tell me you also grew up fatherless,’ ojiisan said.
‘Indeed.’
‘Your uncle could have taken care of you,’ the old man said. ‘But I don’t think he was suited for the job. He was a bit on the grumpy side.’ He laughed, as if that was amusing. |
7241fbbf478144b9a0b6db36e923a446 | ['8ad8171919ff4d2ebfb6c01b28d22c0f'] | "Actually, I'm not quite ready to leave yet," Regina said. "I was going to let Rocinante rest and have some treats. It will take a while, and I wouldn't want to waste your advisor's precious time. I can make it back on my own, just this once."
"It's quite alright. There is nothing more important on my agenda for the day than protecting her highness," Pan smirked. "Go ahead, take your time."
"There you have it. I'm afraid I must be off, but I am glad to know the princess is in safe hands," Leopold gave a fake smile before parting ways. The princess knew something, but Pan would take care of it. No need to get his own hands dirty.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Updated Cast List so far:
>
> Guilder-Oz
> Fire Swamp-Deadly Desert
> Wesley-Emma
> Buttercup-Regina
> Grandfather-David
> Grandson-Henry
> Giant-Tiny
> Inigo Montoya-Jack (Jacqueline of the Beanstalk)
> Six fingered man (Count Rugen)-Pan
> Sicilian-Snow
> Prince Humperdinck-Leopold
> Albino-Ingrid
> Ancient Booer-Grumpy | 965f1506dbde443f91cd652a030c7566 | ['8ad8171919ff4d2ebfb6c01b28d22c0f'] | "You know, you're really hot when you're angry," Emma flirted, her eyes darkening. No one had the right to be so attractive all the time.
"How else do you expect me to react when you flooded our kitchen?"
Emma grinned, "I kind of like seeing you wet."
"If this is your way of asking to continue last night's activities, my answer is…" Regina paused in her tirade as she felt warm lips against her collarbone. For some reason, she couldn't remember why she was so upset. She turned and put her arms around Emma's neck, "You are incorrigible."
"Meaning?"
"If you're trying to get me wet, I can think of a better way than flooding the kitchen—one that requires a lot less cleanup," Regina sighed, pulling Emma into a kiss. "It's a good thing I love you for more than your intellect."
Emma scooped up some soap suds and placed them on Regina's nose, "Says the woman who got her education from a curse."
"You did not just go there," Regina said indignantly, throwing soap suds in Emma's hair in retribution. The other woman of course responded in kind. Soapy water was suddenly flying everywhere until the two women had both fallen to the floor in a fit of giggles.
"You'll help me clean this up, right?" Emma asked with a slight pout.
Regina answered, her eyes twinkling, "It's not like I can trust you to do it all by yourself."
"At least I make your life interesting," Emma winked, kissing her wife before getting up and retrieving the mop. Somehow the chore was much more enticing now that it was going to be shared. |
eef28ac273464b4498045b1015506667 | ['8ae0e9437fdd4a09992d7b99e01418da'] | Ayame went back to the bathroom and grabbed one of Yuki’s inhalers before he went to his room upstairs to grab his wallet. He wasn’t planning on staying there longer, but also knew that there was a possibility that Shigure was going to be at the drug store.
His heart fluttered slightly at the thought of the dark-haired boy. His parents owned the drug store down the road from them. And a lot of the times, he would work there. Typically, he would man the register or clean and stock up the aisles. But his schedule there was always crazy. But it didn’t matter. Somehow, Shigure and Ayame would always find some time alone.
Ayame’s face flushed as he remembered how last month, they took their relationship to the next level. They had been holding hands and kissing for a while, but last month, he had finally lost his virginity. He was spending the night over at Shigure’s place. They were watching a movie while his parents were out of town for some conference thing. Ayame had lied to his parents about how there were adults there and they trusted Shigure and his parent’s way more than his own parents trusted him. But that night, as magical as it was for him, it was very awkward for him. Both were trying to figure the best way to go about anything at all when it came to sex. But in the end, it worked out and both let out their crazy teenage hormones.
Ayame shook the thought out of his head as he went back down the stairs to meet his brother. Aya grabbed his jacket from the closet along with Yuki’s and put it on, feeling that it was a little chilly as winter was almost here. As soon as they were ready, they went off. Ayame knew that it was going to take him and Yuki about five minutes to even get there. But he loved seeing how Yuki would just look at the world with this look of excitement and wonder. He hoped that Yuki would keep that look on his face for as long as possible. The world sucked and he didn’t want his brother to have to deal with that kind of a mess. He was truly a sweet child.
The older boy opened the door once they reached the drug store, a bell rang as each one entered. Yuki went straight for the candy and toys, looking at them in great interest as Ayame went straight to the makeup aisle. Once he was at the foundation, he was looking around, seeing if he could get some foundation closer to his skin color. He knew there was a good chance that he was going to have to combine some of the foundations in order to get it just right.
“Hey,” a smug voice was behind him.
Ayame turned to see a young guy around his age in front of him. His hair dark black flowed like small waves as his coal eyes gave a nice warmth. Ayame felt his heart flutter as he saw Shigure. The other boy gave the silver-haired brushed his lips against his softly, both feeling the jolts of hormones running through their bodies. He loved kissing Shigure's soft lips. He loved how he would give a little smirk as if he had just won a game.
“What you doing here?”
“I needed to get some makeup,” Ayame smiled.
“Your old man, right.”
“Yup.”
“And the little kid?” Shigure pointed behind him.
Ayame turned around, seeing his little brother looking at him, in his hand a toy that he wanted.
“Aya?”
“Yuki, what you got there?”
“I got a toy, can we get it?”
Shigure took the toy from Yuki and the makeup from his boyfriend. He grabbed some snacks and went to the register. Looking at Ayame dead in the eyes, he just tossed the stuff in a bag and handed it to him. He had a smile on his face as he did so. He knew that Ayame and his brother were dealing with their parents being complete and total dicks. He had been trying to convince Aya to go and get somebody involved with them. The way that they were treating those two wasn’t good. But Aya would always make excuses for them.
“Are you sure?” Ayame asked.
“Yeah, I’ll just let them know,” Shigure laughed.
“Thank you,” Yuki smiled as his brother gave him the toy.
Ayame sighed in prayed that Yuki didn't see what had happened between him and his boyfriend. He knew that his family would beat him senseless if they knew Yuki saw him and Shigure together like that, let alone just knowing that he was with Shigure would have made them want to beat him crazy.
6. You Strum Away on Your Harp Like David
Kyo sighed as he sat at the bar. This wasn’t one of the normal ones he would normally go to. This was one where if he was being slightly flirty with a girl, she would think he was interested and then he would have to explain that he was being polite to her and how they both were batting the same field, so to speak, would just make them both embarrassed and uncomfortable. The only reason why he was here, on his third beer, was for a close friend of his. He and his girlfriend were performing at this bar and he came to show moral support for them. Although truth be told, he also was hoping that his friend’s girlfriend would be cool if she let them both have some alone time tonight at his place. Most of the time, she would be alright with her boyfriend spending the night with him.
“Kyo,” a young man sat across the table from the table smirked, “glad you could come.”
“Haru, I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” Kyo smiled as he took a swig of his beer. | d947fa5c1587424c87640a139bf79676 | ['8ae0e9437fdd4a09992d7b99e01418da'] | I let out a chuckle. I felt my body fading away into nothing. As strange as this was, I felt at peace. I was dying. And my brother would never have to worry about me again. He didn't have to deal with the responsibility of dealing with a weakling like me. All I was doing was holding him back. Now that I wasn't going to be around, he would be able to accomplish his dreams.
And then everything went black.
* * *
I jolted up as I heard somebody calling my name. I didn't die? I thought that the twerp got me for a second. I swore for a second that the human punk ended me. I only have 1HP and I literally was the easiest thing to kill. I mean the children here were tougher to kill than me just because they all didn't have a single HP.
"Sans where the hell are you?" I could see my brother walk into the path from the dark woods.
"Boss!" I cried out, trying to get his attention, "Boss! There's a human!"
But he didn't hear me. What the hell was going on? He was fucking looking for me and I'm calling him. But he won't fucking answer. What a fucking asshole. My expressions relieved when he looked at my direction. Finally. Boss was walking towards me.
"Sans... Come home." I think that's what my brother said.
I couldn't be too sure because of how low he said that. But he was walking towards me almost as if he had a purpose in life. He looked almost as if he was trying to stop himself from straight up running. This wasn't like Boss. What the hell was going on? He normally doesn't ignore me when he's actually trying to find me. And he doesn't walk like that to me unless if he were trying to beat the living shit out of me. And his face had worry plastered all over it. That wasn't an expression he wore. That wasn't how he normally acted.
"Boss!" I tried to grab him.
rNothing. My body went straight through him as if I were air. Was I actually dead? Is this what happens when monsters died? I thought our souls were too weak to continue onto the afterlife. Heh, that was a lovely surprise. Or maybe I was just special and got to have front row seats to the upcoming bloodshed.
I saw Boss pick up my jacket. He looked at it as if he had just seen a ghost. Boss was probably too happy to see that I was dead. He was going to throw a party and celebrate. He never really liked me. He only kept me around because I am his only family left. Well, was. I guess I am dead now.
I was trying to catch up to him, but it was really hard because of how much longer his legs were compared to mine. He was taking long strides to reach our home. Suddenly, he put on my jacket. My jacket looked like it was a few sizes too small for him. He was, after all, way taller than me. I was barely five foot, while he was a little taller than six feet. The bottom of his battle body peaked out of the jacket, the sleeves reached a little passed his elbow joints. Boss opened the door harshly, I went in quickly before he slammed the door.
I never saw Boss lose it. He fell to the floor and just started sobbing. The last time I saw him cry like this was when he was just a bag of baby bones. And my dumb ass looked at him and told him coldly, "Stop being a weak ass pussy. If you wanna cry, I'll fucking give you a reason".
"I'm sorry, Sans. I'm so sorry." Boss was choking on his words.
This stunned me. I honestly believed that if I died, he would have been happy. Not like this. I could feel my chest clench up with pain. Not my pain, but his.
"I should have done more. I didn't mean it, Sans. I didn't mean what I said this morning. Oh God!" He was crying harder now as he held my jacket trying to keep himself from falling apart, even more, his magic starting to become unstable.
That's when it hit me. This morning, he specifically told me to fucking die in a ditch. I tried to hold back my laughter. My dumb ass actually listened to him and I got dusted in a fucking ditch.
"Sorry to ditch ya Boss. But I was already washed up." I tried to put my hand on his shoulder, but I phased through him.
Boss continued to sob uncontrollably as I rubbed my skull and sighed, "Ditch is a really bad time for puns, huh?"
"Sans, I just want you to come home." Boss hiccuped in the middle of his crying.
"I am home, Boss. I'm fine. I promise you. I'm sorry, Boss." I was trying to reassure him.
But it was pointless. He couldn't see me. He couldn't hear me. I was less than a ghost. At least we could see them. I don't think anybody could see me. I sat down next to Boss, I could feel my tears streaming down my face. I never in a million years thought that this was how we would bond. Who would have thought that the only way we were able to bury the hatchet was by me getting killed? It should have never got to this point. But it did. And I wished that I was still alive so I could brush away his tears. Even though Boss was a huge dick to me, he was still my baby brother. He was my Papyrus. I love him. And seeing him suffer without me was killing me worse than how that brat did me in. |
f54397868d5643b6ae1680884d657c18 | ['8afe541ee6a14ce89617b951bfd0f706'] | And if there was one thing that Lim Jaebeom could not help being when he was near him, was being clumsy and shy. He could barely speak without stammering, could barely walk without stumbling over nonexistent obstacles; it was the pure effect Youngjae had on him. And as much as he felt ashamed, Jaebeom loved this effect. And so, perhaps, Jaebeom anticipated the mornings when he had to wake up early and take Yugyeom to school. Even if he ended up in a terrible mood and an unbearable teenager on his heels, he faced all this just to see Youngjae from far away in the parking lot.
“For God’s sake! Don’t hit anyone else today.” Jaebeom spoke as soon as he stopped the car at the school entrance as every morning, making Yugyeom groan.
“Hyung tells me this every day!” The boy said exasperated getting out of the car and slamming the door, Jaebeom laughed and stood there watching his kid until his black hair disappeared through the main entrance.
A knock on the glass beside frightened him a little and he turned to find Youngjae on the other side, as always smiling and handsome, and Jaebeom had no idea how anyone could be in such good shape and good mood in the morning while he was wearing his pajama bottom with bart simpson print and his worn shirt with the snoop dogg's face on it, _for God's sake!_
“Good morning, Jaebeom-ssi!” Youngjae spoke all smiles practically jumping and Jaebeom didn’t find it annoying as he would if it were someone else, like Jackson.
“Good morning, Youngjae-ssi.”
He smiled at the same level of excitement as the other, which was inevitable.
“Can we talk?” Youngjae asked as he leaned out the window and Jaebeom found himself voiceless with the suggestion, already imagining a thousand ways to kill Lim Yugyeom, he could only have done shit “There's a coffee shop nearby, how about it?”
Jaebeom looked at his pajamas and then at Youngjae and his eyes wide and hopeful and he urgently needed to treat his habit of not being able to resist cute things and sighed in defeat, definitely he wouldn’t be able to say no.
“Sure, get in here.” He spoke mortified on the inside, but Youngjae didn’t even seem to notice his clothes and if he noticed he didn’t demonstrate, indicating the way they should go.
The coffee shop was small, it had many flowers and plants suspended by its walls and windows, witha rustic architecture resembling a country house, and among the tables were bookshelves with varied literatures. Jaebeom as an assiduous reader immediately loved the environment and found it absurd that he himself had no knowledge of the place. Youngjae said he spent most of his time there, and Jaebeom had already put it on his list of good places to write.
“How are the things at home, with Yugyeom?”
Youngjae asked between a sip of his coffee. How were the thing with Yugyeom? Apparently well, although in a conversation with his psychologist she had told him that the two should talk more, that the boy kept too much inside of him, but Jaebeom had no idea how to start. He sighed, running his hands through his hair.
“Well, I think. He still talks a little to me, but he talks a lot with Jinyoung my best friend and I know that he exchanges messages with Jackson, but I do not know how they got at this stage since they only met once.”
“Jackson?”
“Jackson Wang, have you heard of it?” Youngjae's eyes widened, and Jaebeom laughed at the other's surprised expression. “I work in the same company as him, I do music.”
“Oh, so I must have listened to your songs on the radio, maybe?”
“Probably.” Jaebeom said smiling, and Youngjae leaned across the table.
“I'll love to hear, could you show me at our next date?”
Choi murmured and Jaebeom was tempted to show him his SoundCloud account right there, but he restrained himself, but he also refrained from smiling like a maniac at the prospect of meeting Youngjae again in a date. And how come another date? Does that mean that what they were having at that very moment was one?
“But what I really want to know is if you like video games.”
“Video games?” Jaebeon stared at him in confusion.
“Yeah, like league of legends, fortnite, FIFA, these things?”
“These first two I have no idea what is about, but FIFA is cool, I used to play when I was younger, why?”
“Great!”
Youngjae smiled but didn’t elaborate more than that and soon Jaebeom found himself involved in a conversation about college and discovered that Youngjae was actually younger than himself and that this was his first job in fact without being an internship, and that he was preparing for a master's degree in music therapy and then the two found themselves engaged in a conversation about music and how it can heal the soul and Jaebeom has never felt so alive in a morning.
~세렌디피티~
Yugyeom was like a shadow. Wherever he was going the youngest was behind him. At first Jaebeom didn’t care, but after a while it was a little uncomfortable to have that presence on his back without saying anything, just watching him.
“You need anything?” He asked, drawing his attention from the book he was reading, to look at the boy sitting next to him.
For a moment Yugyeom was silent, only caressing Nora's on his lap.
“Hyung wants to play FIFA with me?”
He spoke so softly, if they hadn’t been sitting so close to each other he would not have listened. Jaebeom fought the urge to smile before replying.
“Oh, of course!”
Yugyeom jumped off the couch excitedly as he heard his answer rushing up to the TV. Jaebeom had something else to thank Choi Youngjae for.
~세렌디피티~ | b602a6e1bdc3419bbe167983f65e1908 | ['8afe541ee6a14ce89617b951bfd0f706'] | "Silly. Now turn on that car or we'll be late."
When they reached the local theater and Jaebeom parked the car, Youngjae had been the first one to get out of the car to meet him on the other side. And as soon as Jaebeom went out he smiled.
"Now you can look at me at ease," Youngjae said standing in front of Jaebeom, his hands went to either side of his denim jacket and the older one didn't miss the opportunity. Jaebeom closed the distance between them, grabbing Choi's neck and kissing him sweetly, but soon the bump became a mess, somehow Youngjae's back slammed against the car door and Jaebeom sighed in the kiss, he had missed it, the warmth of the younger, his taste. He had been so scared when he first kissed him, had been afraid to screw things up and do something wrong, Jaebeom had never been good at relationships after all.
"I missed you," Youngjae confessed as they parted their mouths to catch their breath.
"Me too," Jaebeom muttered and added, "A lot."
They kissed a little longer until their fingers stiffened from the cold and their cheeks flushed. “How about we go somewhere else?”
Youngjae suggested and Jaebeom felt hot everywhere, he knew what the younger one was implying with his words and wanted this very much “Let's go to my house?”
Jaebeom didn't wait for him to say it again and they both got back in the car, completely forgetting about the movie and making their way back to Choi's house.
~세렌디피티~
It was funny how in a year and a half his life took a surprising turn. He became a boyfriend, an older brother, a father. Jaebeon became the source of security and the mirror of one, became the love of someone else's life. And all of this had happened unexpectedly.
"Hey, what are you doing out here alone? It's cold!" Youngjae said sitting beside him on the old couch on the balcony and Jaebeom snuggled him against his chest hugging him tightly. He hadn't realized it was so cold until the youngest mentioned and he sought warmth from Youngjae's body.
"Thinking," he said softly, one hand sliding through Youngjae's light hair, as brought the glass of wine in his hand to his lips, finishing the rest of his drink. "I'm a lucky guy." He completed the reasoning and Youngjae laughed softly and leaned up leaving a kiss on his neck, but Jaebeom soon found himself leaning toward the younger seeking his lips and taking them in a kiss. "I love you."
Youngjae smiled against his mouth and kissed him back even more determinedly and as usual they found themselves lost in each other, totally in love until the balcony door opened a second time and a spoiled brat appeared through it.
"I was alone in there! I hate being alone hyung!"
Yugyeom whimpered and Youngjae laughed as Jaebeom rolled his eyes.
"Come here, big baby." Youngjae called sitting straight on the couch and opening his arms to the younger who didn't hesitate to throw himself in his lap, with half his body on top of Jaebeom and the other half on Youngjae.
He was too big for that, but they couldn't complain, it was rare for children his age to be so affectionate, they just had to enjoy it. With only thirteen years old, Yugyeom was about Youngjae's height, and Jaebeom was kind of threatened because it wouldn't be long before the boy passed him, he wasn't ready to be the older brother who is smaller than the younger one.
"Hyung" Yugyeom cut the silence and Jaebeom looked down to find the brown and childish eyes staring at him "Are you happy?"
Jaebeom was taken aback by the question and smiled. He ran one hand through his brother's black hair and the other squeezed Youngjae's arm, which had laid its head on his shoulder.
"Very, my happiness goes to infinity and beyond." He told his two boys.
“Good, I love you, hyung” Yugyeom talked softly and like the first time he said it, Jaebeom felt blessed “You too, Youngjae hyung, I love you.”
Jaebeom laughed ruffling his youngest hair as Youngjae pinched his full cheeks making him complain. Youngjae looked at Jaebeom who looked back and it was like falling in love with him all over again.
"I love you," Youngjae whispered softly just for him to hear. And Jaebeom finally felt complete.
He was happy, all three were happy, that was all that mattered.
~세렌디피티~
**Author's Note:**
> I'm on twitter: https://twitter.com/Dimsum_saboroso |
f5ac1854bb644d9185e4fac4df64db67 | ['8b00efbf5e8c402a80d5aaeb9b060654'] | “You ready?” the man asks, dark but patient. Harvey nods and turns, his trousers and boxers wrapped pathetically around his ankles. He feels the hot head of a rubbered cock as it presses against his entrance. He blows out slowly and relaxes as much as he can at the intrusion. It’s been so long since he bottomed that he can’t remember the face of the man that took him. Though, to be fair, he can’t remember the face of the man behind him either, so perhaps that’s no great measure.
The thrusts are tentative at first, matched with small gasps of ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’ and ‘so tight’, before the man behind him settles into a more punishing rhythm. Harvey doesn’t care—pushing back into each thrust in a desperate bid to shut off his over-active mind. He knows the guy is close when he wraps an arm around Harvey to jerk him off. Harvey pushes him away, choosing instead to slide his own hand up and down his aching, throbbing dick.
_Mike. Mike. Mike. Mike._
The chant in his head is relentless as his wrist flicks and twist.
“Now, going to come now!” gasps the man behind him whose name and face he doesn’t remember. Harvey’s chin drops to his chest as he focuses on the sensation of being completely full and watches his hand beat on his own cock. With three more panting, desperate thrusts, the man behind gasps out an orgasm and Harvey works hard to keep up.
“Shit, you gonna come or what?” the man asks, his cock rapidly softening in Harvey’s ass. His voice, coarse and dark, tugs Harvey out of his reverie and the threads of his orgasm slip away.
“Fuck,” he whispers, stilling his hand and resting his forehead on the stall wall. He feels the man slip from within him, hears his zip himself up, before he presses his hands to his hips and turns him around.
“Let me,” he says, stopping Harvey from tucking himself away.
Back on his knees, the man wraps his deliciously talented mouth around Harvey’s now far more interested cock, and Harvey closes his eyes as he enjoys the sensation of being swallowed down. It takes a few minutes, but his orgasm returns and—with a tug on the man’s hair to allow him to pull off—he is able to jerk himself to satisfaction.
The man is gone before Harvey is even decent.
“Serves me right,” he mutters to himself, his mind flitting back to his dismissal of Dan the night before.
He steps out of the stall and into the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror startles him. Ashen faced and weary, the Harvey in the mirror looks ten years older. And lost. And sad.
He is so screwed.
“What do you mean he’s punishing himself?” Rachel asks from the bedroom. She is stripping down to comfortable pyjamas after arriving home from the office. She is tired and just wants to sleep, but Mike is distracted and needs to talk it out. She would do anything for him, so she listens even when she doesn’t feel like she can fit anything more into her brain.
“Donna’s gone. He thinks it’s his fault, which it is if we’re truly honest about things. So he’s punishing himself. Which means he will also punish us and that’s something we need to watch out for.” Mike smiles a little and Rachel returns it shyly.
“Maybe he needs to get out, find himself a girlfriend?” Rachel suggests. Mike’s smile changes a little, and he tilts his head as he regards her, then he sucks in a deep breath.
“Or a boyfriend,” he says quietly. He feels rather than sees Rachel’s shock. She sinks on to the couch next to him and stares, her eyes burning into the side of his face until he turns.
“Seriously?” she asks. Mike knows there’s no going back now and he nods slowly.
“Yes.” God, he has no idea what to say next.
“Spill. How do you know? What do you know? Harvey? I mean . . . Harvey?”
Mike laughs then and he drags Rachel into his arms. She snuggles into him, and he presses a kiss to the top of her head.
“I suspected a while,” he begins. “Then, after the shit with Darby was finally over, he took me out to celebrate. We hit a few bars and Harvey got progressively drunker. I was done, heading home. He said he was going to stop off on his way and I was worried. I followed him.” Not his finest moment, he would be the first to admit, but he had never seen Harvey so open, or drunk, and he was genuinely concerned that something might go wrong. “The bar he ended up in was clearly a gay bar. He took home a dark haired, skinny guy. It was weird at the time, but it was also the only time.”
“So Harvey’s gay?” Rachel muses.
“Bi, I think. There have been plenty of women and they don’t seem disappointed.” Mike laughs and then hauls Rachel into his lap. “Tell you what, instead of discussing Harvey’s sex life, let’s explore our own.” He presses his lips to Rachel’s softly, but she deepens the kiss quickly, licking into his mouth. They stay like that for a while, before she draws back.
“What about you?” she asks, her eyebrow quirked.
“What about me?” Mike asks warily.
“Ever thought about it?” | b0f0d9e724d24fd8a815edbe754a9029 | ['8b00efbf5e8c402a80d5aaeb9b060654'] |
Patience
**Author's Note:**
> I haven't proof read. I have typed, manically, and then posted. There was no beta, so all mistakes are entirely my own. I will no doubt drop back in on this in a couple of days and fix them. Until then, please pretend they aren't there! Comments are greatly welcomed, warmly received, and thanks are abundant. #H50 forever!
Steve watches Danny. Like always. He watches how he fiddles with his pen, watches how he stabs at the keyboard as though it has personally offended him (and it might well have done, for all Steve knows), and he watches as his face lights up when he answers the late-evening phone call. Gracie.
God, he misses her. Since she turned twelve, it seems she no longer thinks of Uncle Steve as being quite so cool anymore, and they’ve barely seen each other in several weeks. Steve wants to hear her voice, her laughter. He has no idea when she became quite so important to him, but she truly is.
Danny pushes back from his table and to his feet, pushes his fingers through his hair and then scrubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands. Steve realises, as he watches, just how tired he is too. This goddamn case has been draining; he sent Chin, Kono and Lou a couple hours ago. He tried to send Danny too, but he wouldn’t go. “You stay, I stay, babe. We’re partners.”
It hadn’t crossed his mind at the time, but Steve was relieved. Screens full of dismembered corpses had been haunting what little sleep he has managed to get this week. He didn’t want to be alone. So, despite the fact that there were a couple of glass walls between them, he was grateful for Danny’s presence.
“Hey.” Danny’s voice is low and rough. He is leaning against the door frame, his arms folded across his chest.
“Hey,” Steve replies, leaning back in his chair. “You heading out?”
“Not sure. I’m tired but I’m not sleeping, you know?”
Steve nods. He knows. “So, you thinking about getting a beer?” he asks. Danny rubs his hand across the back of his neck and stifles a yawn.
“Yeah. Sure, why not? But somewhere quiet. I don’t think I can handle loud bass and bikini clad children this evening.” Danny’s smile is wry and Steve returns it.
“My place?”
Danny simply nods and Steve stands up, switches off the computer screen and grabs his keys. “Meet you there,” he says. But they walk out together wordlessly. Neither is processing the week very well. The corpses have triggered memories he had thought long since buried. Danny has been more forthcoming, mutterings about some serial case he worked back in New York.
Steve drives slowly, his eyes itchy with fatigue, and watches the road carefully. Danny follows behind. The evening is warm and Steve has the window rolled down. He can hear the growl of the Camaro behind, see the headlights in the mirror, and he feels calm. Knowing Danny is so close is reassuring, familiar. As he swings into his driveway, he knows that they both needed this. Time to decompress, together, with someone else who understands.
Steve unlocks the door and heads straight into the kitchen, grabs a couple of beers out of the fridge and heads straight for the lanai. He slumps into a wooden chair and passes Danny his beer as he joins him.
“Thanks,” Danny says. And that’s it. They pass minutes in silence, staring out towards the ocean. It is Danny that breaks first—just as both expected they would.
“You know, when we were hunting Bartelli, I told Rachel I couldn’t come home. I worked five days straight, slept on a bed in one of the cells for a couple of hours when I could. Eventually, Captain sent me home. That night, I remember waking up in Rachel’s arms. I was crying in my sleep. That bastard killed seventeen kids, seventeen, and all I could think was what if it was Grace, you know? Rachel, she kept trying to tell me it was going to be okay, but I knew it wasn’t. Those kids were never coming home.”
“I know.” Steve places his hand on Danny’s knee and squeezes lightly, reassuring. Danny turns and nods. “What happened?” Steve asks, knowing Danny needs to unload this before he stands a chance of processing their current case.
“We caught him. Took one more before we managed it, though. Thomas Briggs, eight. We found him the day after we arrested Bartelli. God, I hoped he’d still be okay, that we’d have got there in time. Thomas was—” Danny stops, swallows. Steve squeezes again then draws his hand away.
“Bet you have enough of your own horror stories without mine to add,” Danny huffs, sitting back and running his fingers through his hair.
“I do,” Steve agrees.
“But they’re all classified, right?” Danny laughs.
“They are. But it doesn’t mean I want to keep it all buried inside. Danny, some of the things I saw, some of the things I’ve lived, it’s like they’re a film in my head. I can shut them off most of the time, turn down the volume, but then we’ll catch a case like this one and everything comes back. The Navy teaches mental strength, compartmentalisation, but it doesn’t teach you how to forget.”
“What a pair we are,” Danny adds. Then he yawns, stretches, and Steve watches as Danny’s shirt lifts a little out of his pants, stretches tight across his chest and upper arms.
What would Danny think if he knew the sorts of things Steve dreamed of when he wasn’t plagued by nightmares? Once upon a time, Catherine would fill his mind and his heart, and he’d be able to think of her to forget, to relax, to get off. But for a while now, it’s been Danny who has been his go-to. |
80b8450e31a94e008f30d64bef79fcf7 | ['8b2d101ff2664dd599f72ea9937fad7d'] | Paperwork
Riza Hawkeye sat on the corner of Roy Mustang's desk, reading aloud all the paperwork so the blind man would know what he was signing. She sighed. Havoc was healed, so why didn't Roy use the Philosopher's Stone to fix his eyes already? How was he benefiting from not being able to see?
Riza finished reading the page and sat it down in front of Roy so he could sign it. He held a pen over the paper, then turned his face towards her, as if asking if he was about to write in the correct spot. “Don't you think your little game is getting old, sir? She asked as she moved his hand to the correct place.
“I don't know what you're talking about, Lieutenant,” Roy replied with an amused smirk. After the first few papers, he'd figured out where the line he was supposed to sign on was at, but hey, he was blind. Why not take advantage of it? Every couple papers, he'd purposely put his pen over the wrong spot so that Riza would have to take his hand and guide it to the line. Unfortunately, she seemed to be catching on.
Suddenly, Roy clapped and snapped. Riza jumped, then stared at the flame that had appeared in front of her. It hovered in the air a few feet from where she sat. “Sir? What are you doing?”
“You're cold, aren't you? Your hands are freezing, and my desk won't stop shaking.”
“Sorry sir.”
“It's no trouble for me, but if you'd mentioned something earlier you wouldn't have had to sit in the cold as long. Actually, I'm sorry for not noticing earlier.”
Riza blushed slightly. “Thank you sir.” They continued the paperwork, and Riza enjoyed the warmth that radiated from the small flame.
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed this little drabble :) | 49e5bcdb447943b9a3a81e49a4fe5258 | ['8b2d101ff2664dd599f72ea9937fad7d'] | “Thank you,” Haruhi replied. They ate in companionable silence. When they were done, Tamaki took the dishes back to the kitchen while Haruhi picked a movie to watch.
“Hey, Sempai, lets go to my room to watch the movie. I'm tired of sitting on the couch,” Haruhi said.
“Are you sure? I mean, a boy and girl alone in a bedroom...”
“Pervert! I just wanted somewhere more comfortable to sit. We don't exactly have the most comfortable couch.”
“Right, of course. Sorry.”
Haruhi coughed a little. Instantly Tamaki rushed to her side. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“I've got a cold. Coughing is perfectly natural.”
They went to Haruhi's room and started the movie. At some point, she fell asleep, using Tamaki's chest as her pillow.
Ranka opened the door and entered his apartment. “Haruhi! I'm home!” he called. When he didn't get an answer, he went to Haruhi's room. “Haruhi?” He flicked on the light, and his jaw dropped at the sight that greeted him.
Hadn't he told her not to let strange people in the house? That stupid blond boy was lying with his precious little Haruhi on her bed. Tamaki's arms were wrapped around Haruhi, and she was snuggled close to him. Their legs were intertwined. Fortunately for Tamaki, both the teens were still fully clothed, so Ranka decided to let them sleep peacefully for now, and wait to destroy Tamaki after he woke up.
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to leave a little note telling me what you did/didn't like :) |
5763a585697f4974843c8b644313bd4a | ['8b34d1c2bc5c4542af12a19c56ca53b6'] |
1. Preface
Belladonna “Bilbo” Baggins comfortably rested by the warm blaze of the hearth’s fiery embers. The long wooden contraption holding her beloved pipe weed sat gingerly between her lips, her breath swallowing the heavy smoke into her body. Her mind, however, traveled leagues away, focused on the past more so than the present. She sighed, the sound full of sadness and home to many memories. Her hand delicately removed the pipe from her lips, placing it on the table next to her. Feet touched the solid wooden floor as she stood. The floor’s warmth tickled her toes, making a smile stretch on her face. Fires were lovely things. They warmed a home even in the cold of winter. Speaking of which, a fire must surely be out by now, and such a thing should be remedied lest the small faunt grow cold.
With that purpose in mind, she strove into the halls of her home, walking to the room of beloved little… something broke. In her home… preposterous. Nothing is ever out of place, she knows better than that; no single object is left precariously settled. Quick feet whispered her to the kitchen. She thanked the Valar she forwent shoes while inside, allowing her stealth and silence. The weight of the letter opener she acquired in her journey felt steady and sturdy in her hands. The callouses spoke of training and experience, even if the time spent with this specific weapon, or any of its kind, was few and sparse. No matter, she could well use it now.
A shadow flickered, making an abrupt noise, almost completely devoid of noise; almost. She struck, confidently and assuredly, as she was taught, into the shadow. Her sword was parried, and she prepared for a counterattack or defense. However, no such thing required action. Metal clambered onto the ground as the shadow stepped out. A black beard and matching mane, both streaked with silver, framed a strong jaw; cheekbones cut from stone, a forehead of marble, and dark brows framed eyes that glittered like dark sapphires. She knew this man, or rather, dwarf, and better than she knew herself.
“Rendered the mighty Bilbo Baggins speechless? Better men than I have failed in such an endeavor,” resounded the deep husk of Thorin Oakenshield.
“None died after banishing the hobbit for a rock,” she snapped back, dropping to pick up her weapon, “What are you doing here?”
“No greeting?” he questioned.
“No apology?” she countered, glaring.
“Bilbo…” he began, eyes softening, but a small whimper stopped his words.
“Mama?” asked a tiny voice, soft, “Mama?”
Bilbo’s eyes softened immediately, turning to the side to see a small shape leaning behind the round doorway. One little arm held a stuffed horse, the other grabbing the wood framing the entrance to the kitchen.
“My darling,” she stood to pick up the little hobbit, who curled into her arms and tucked his face into her shoulder, “Awake at such a late hour? Has my brave boy been battling orcs and saving damsels again?”
The little figure giggled.
“Not without mama. No adven’sure without mama,” proclaimed the little boy, who peeked at Thorin before curling into his mother again, “Who that, mama?”
“Properly, Frodo,” she lightly scolded, “Properly ask, my lad.”
“Who… ish that, mama?” he asked again, looking at her with big blue eyes for approval.
“My clever boy,” she praised, smiling gently at him, before lightly flicking his nose, “My lazy boy. You know better!”
He giggled again. She looked at the boy with affection smoldering in her eyes, before turning to the dwarf in front of her. Her hand reached and slightly petted the dark brown, almost black curls of her son.
“Mama?” he asked.
“This is Thorin, Frodo,” she said.
“Thorn?” he asked, “From your adven’sure?”
“Yes, darling, the very same.”
“Oh,” he said, “He short.”
The dwarf recoiled in offense.
“No insult offered, young Frodo, but you yourself are not tall in stature,” responded the king.
“He talk funny,” was the response. Bilbo laughed.
“You are tired, my boy. Let’s get you to bed, yes?” At the nod, the hobbit-elf spun on her heel and walked out, “Wait here Thorin.”
“Mama, is Thorin a king?” came the quiet voice again. Thorin heard them, their voices quieting as they drifted from him.
“Yes, little one. King Under the Mountain.”
“Gran Gandy said you were Queen Under the Mountain,” said Frodo innocently, and Bilbo gently laid a hand on his mouth, knowing his next question.
“My little faunt has had quite a night, and needs sleep. Tomorrow we will discuss this Under the Mountain business, my love. ‘Tis not a happy business, more like a bother, my little one.”
“Yes mama. G’night mama.”
“Goodnight, Frodo.” Steps became louder as they reached Throin.
“We will not wake him again. Follow me.” He did as ordered.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This is the preface, so it takes place in the future. it's kind of an intro to the where i plan to take the story. Yay or nay?
2. Chapter 2 | 164c187a81ca4c48968a281386eca6b8 | ['8b34d1c2bc5c4542af12a19c56ca53b6'] | At this, Bilbo’s head snapped to look at the dwarf, eyes darkening before she shook her head, seemingly clearing it. Then, she nodded vigorously, agreeing with the dwarves. Her hands squeezed her chair tighter every time her worth was devalued, but she kept silent.
“Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar she is!” he announced, “Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet, in fact, they can pass unseen by most, if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage,” he turned to Thorin, “You asked me to find the fourteenth member of our company, and I have chosen Miss. Baggins. There is a lot more to her than appearances, and she’s got a great deal more to offer than any of you know. Including herself,” the wizard turned to look at Bilbo, who gave him an icy glare.
The hobbit rose from leaning on the chair, straightening her back and pulling her shoulders back when Gandalf looked at Thorin again.
“You must trust me on this,” Gandalf warned Thorin.
“Very well,” agreed Thorin, “We will do it your way,” he turned to Balin, “Give her the contract.”
The dwarves all muttered some form of comment, while Balin rose and began to hand Bilbo the contract, summarizing what was in it. Bilbo’s indignant expression stopped the white haired dwarf in his tracks.
“Just because the wizard says I am a burglar does not mean I am one!” she protested.
“Certain farmers around here have reported their vegetables missing,” said Gandalf, “And Lobelia worked tiredly on the doilies decorating your home.”
“Enough!” she pointed at the wizard, “I was a child, and Lobelia does not even notice. I am not a burglar, and I would have told you all if any of you had bothered to tell me what this blasted meeting was about in the first place!”
“Would you like to read it?” asked Balin, handing it to Thorin, who shoved it at Bilbo, hitting her in the stomach with the piece of parchment.
“By the Valar,” the contract was picked up and used as a weapon, striking the back of the dwarf king’s head.
She bristled as every dwarf in the company grew silent, waiting for Thorin’s reaction. He turned, anger evident on his face, but picked up the contract and handed it into her waiting hand. She turned to read it, walking into the hallway where the light was better. Conversation returned. Thorin stood to whisper something to the wizard.
“I cannot guarantee her safety,” warned Thorin.
“Understood,” said Gandalf.
“Nor will I be responsible for her fate,” stated Thorin, looking at Gandalf.
“I do not remember either asking for such treatment, or accepting your offer,” said Bilbo, returning, setting the contract on the table, and sitting, “Incineration, really now?”
“Oh aye, it’ll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye,” began Bofur.
“Yes, I realize that dragons do have that ability, thank you again Master Bofur,” snapped the hobbit, resting her head on her hand as she sat once more.
“Are you alright lass?” asked Balin.
“Let me think,” said Bilbo, holding up her other hand.
“Think furnace with wings,” supplied Bofur “Flash of light, searing pain, then puff, you’re nothing more than a pile of ash.”
“I need the map,” she demanded.
The previous parchment was handed to her. She analyzed the piece of parchment closely, before she looked up, turning to look at Gandalf, glaring again.
“I suspect you’d take the path through the Greenwood,” she asked Gandalf, her voice lowering. His silence was answer enough.
“Now Bilbo,” he was interrupted when the screeching of a chair signaled the hobbit lass stood up once more.
“We need to have a private talk, Gandalf,” her glare could have frozen lakes two times over, “Starting with inviting strangers into my home, and ending with signing me up for these quests.”
The hobbit lass led the wizard into the living room, where she glared at the wizard until he sat down.
“Before you start,” he asked, “Could we have a cup of tea.”
The lass signaled to go ahead and ask for it. Gandalf called out to the dwarves, and ten minutes later, Dori appeared with two cups of tea. Both thanked him when he handed them their cups, Bilbo stopping from her pacing to accept the small token. As soon as he left, he reported to the others how the lass seemed extremely angry, and how the wizard looked ready for a scolding. The voices they then heard confirmed their suspicions- the two knew each other from past ventures, and were having a row.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> i love her sass!!! i had some friends read it over, and they all burst out laughing at her and thorn
6. Chapter 6
“Truly, you care very little for the troubles of those you call friends when the fate of Middle Earth comes to your door!” snapped Bilbo, “You know perfectly well I am done with any sort of adventure outside of the Shire!”
“You’ve been sitting quietly for far too long!”
“Who are you to decide that?”
“Tell me, when did doilies, and your mother’s dishes, become so important to you?” asked Gandalf.
“When they became all I had left of her,” snapped Bilbo, turning to meet eyes with the wizard.
“I remember a young hobbit who was always running off searching after elves in the woods,” began Gandalf, “Stay out late, come home after dark, trailing mud and twigs, and fireflies. A young hobbit who would like nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire!”
“And that young hobbit got her mother killed because of her adventure’s, because she got too curious and to meddlesome, and her mother paid the price,” snarled Bilbo, “I have other responsibilities now.” |
43c8f4030e6146c39d75f25d329049a5 | ['8b86c40ee1fb4d4ba7996f23758a6f86'] | “Hermione had a panic attack at the Christmas market. But James here was smart and brave at that moment.”
“Just like Dad!” James exclaimed proudly and finally let go of her hand to return to the table, sitting down next to his sister.
“Yeah, just like Dad,” Ginny repeated with a chuckle before she went over to the counter to make herself a tea. She would have loved a stronger drink after the events of the afternoon, but not in front of her children.
Molly got up after laying the cards out again for the children to play a round together. “You didn't leave her alone, did you?”
“Gods, no! Draco is taking care of her now.” Ginny sighed and leaned against the counter, waiting for the kettle to whistle.
“Good, good,” Molly muttered absent-mindedly as she looked over to the children who were still searching the card pairs. “He still cares a lot about her. And it's a good thing he _knows_ now.”
Ginny looked at her mother with a surprised furrow of her brows. “You knew?”
Molly nodded with a shrug. “Me and Harry, yes. No one else.”
“I was shocked when she told me–”
“I was too. But she needs all the support she can get right now.”
Watching her children discuss whether a pair of cards belonged together or not, Ginny nodded in response to her mother's words. “You know, watching him soothe her down was like they've never been apart. I'm just glad he's giving her another chance, after everything they've been through.”
“As I know them, they'll be _close_ by Christmas, you'll see.” With a teasing smile, Molly went to the pantry cupboard to find some biscuits from the top shelf. “We should invite him to our fest as well... I still have the green wool somewhere that I used for his jumpers–”
“Do you think that's a good idea, them getting back together?” Ginny asked. “I mean, the break-up was bad and... and–”
“No one knows.” Molly stopped her search for the right biscuit box to send her daughter a disbelieving glance. “We shouldn't push them, though. It's up to them to figure it out.”
Ginny nodded, remembering the brief smile on Draco's face earlier, giving away his feelings for that split second it had lasted. With that in mind, she realised that her mother was probably right—or at least she wouldn't be surprised to see them act more intimately around each other by Christmas. “I wouldn't mind one of your dark chocolate truffles after today.”
Molly smiled broadly as she pulled the box with the truffles out, just as the kettle started to whistle. “Yeah, I think we deserved them.”
28. Saint Nicolas Day Surprise
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I took the liberty here to include a Christmas season tradition that is common in my corner of Europe, and parts of France—mostly because I loved it as a child. And it works out, thanks to Fleur. ;-)
>
> My usual thanks to the lovely people who keep me running with their patience and support:
> _MusicLover19_ for proofreading the chapter, and to _Debbie, Linda, Katie and Evora_ for being as lovely as you are! Love you all! :-**
>
> Now, enjoy!
“I'm so glad you decided to come,” Molly said as Hermione stepped out of the Floo at the Burrow for the celebrations of St. Nicolas' Day, a tradition that Fleur had brought into the family and which was especially loved by the children. “You look better.”
“Thanks.” Hermione smiled hesitantly, glad that Molly didn't pull her into one of her famous hugs. She could hear the rest of the family chat in the living room, with the children playing and running around, and it brought back a brief image of her panic attack she had suffered only a few days ago.
“You don't have to stay long if you don't feel comfortable, okay? They'll understand...”
“I'll be fine, Molly,” Hermione replied with a soft shake of her head. “It's all about feeling safe, and this is one of those places where I _do_ feel safe.”
Molly smiled and nodded towards the door to the living room. “Ready to join the others then?”
Hermione nodded, but then reached for her small bag to pull out a small wrapped parcel, just as Molly made the first steps towards the door. “I brought something for James. Just a small thank you for being such a brave boy.”
“He really was.”
Moments later, Hermione joined the others in the living room, waving at them with an embarrassed smile. “Hello everyone...”
She was instantly greeted with a lot of happy smiles and waving hands, with a few of the adults getting up as well, amongst them Ginny and Harry.
“Great to see you!” Ginny exclaimed with a relieved looking smile as she reached Hermione; Harry was straight behind her, looking similarly glad. “You look so much better!”
“Thanks.” Hermione held up the small wrapped parcel. “This is for James for being such a brave boy.”
“He'll love it, but you can hand it to him yourself; we'll start with the _naughty list_ soon. Bill said he'll do it this year...”
“I thought it was Percy's turn?” Hermione asked in surprise, keeping the parcel in her hands.
“Percy is down with the flu, you know how he is when he’s sick,” Ginny replied, chuckling amused, already starting to turn around to join the others once more.
“You're sure you'll be okay?” Harry asked, a hint of concern in his voice, shrugging in response to the quick glare his wife sent him.
“Yes, Harry,” Hermione replied with a soft smile. “Stop fussing so much about me, okay? You're almost as bad as Draco...”
“Oh,” Ginny said, tilting her head slightly. “Did you talk to Pendry then?” | 885d79c69e134c398ca44a476d8d106b | ['8b86c40ee1fb4d4ba7996f23758a6f86'] | Just as lost in the kiss, Helen wrapped her legs around his waist, and pulled him closer. “Those trousers need to come off,” she breathed heavily between kisses.
“No,” he husked in response, shifting his position so as not to fall on her.
“Take them off...” She pulled away from the kiss, and studied him for a moment, licking her lips where his just had been. “You just want to make out tonight? Not the whole thing?”
"I never said that," he replied, sitting up. The tint of disappointment in her voice unsettled him a bit. What had just happened? "I-I," he started, furrowing his brows; but then he stopped, because he didn't actually know what he was supposed to say. After a few more rather insecure seconds, he finally leaned closer until his forehead was touching hers. He was glad that she didn't look too upset with him, but rather, she was searching him for a simple explanation. "I... I just liked the slow pace of the weekend. No hurry whatsoever, that's all..."
Hearing that, Helen's questioning expression turned into that bright smile that he so adored. "I liked it too," she whispered, letting her thumbs run over his cheeks. "I'm sorry. I was looking forward to this moment all day long, because I missed you... Missed your touch, and your kisses, you know?" Her smile turned into a small teasing smirk. "Because you're right, they really are addictive..."
He nodded, letting out a small sigh of relief. “They are.” He brushed his lips on hers. Those so wonderfully soft lips that could be so hungry sometimes, and then again be so comforting.
“Let's go upstairs,” she whispered, breathing raggedly, when she reluctantly broke off for some air. “More comfortable...”
Breathing just as heavily, Draco smirked broadly. And then—to Helen's surprise—he scooped her off the sofa and on his shoulders. He swayed for a moment before catching his balance again, causing Helen to gasp loudly. Thank the gods that she had a rather small frame, or he wouldn't have been able to pull that stunt—after all, he had lost some weight and with it a lot of his physical strength due to the mental stress and not being able to play Quidditch any longer. With a smirk that she couldn't see, he squeezed her arse before making his way upstairs.
“Draco!” she yelped, but couldn't hold back a laugh, draped like this over his shoulder. “You cheeky bastard...”
“No, please don't move your arms, it's okay,” Helen protested when he wanted to unwrap his arms from around her, to minimise the overstimulation in her afterglow. “Just hold me for a moment. I don't want to move just yet.” She was lying on top of him—in what had started to become their usual position—and smiled when she felt him press a gentle kiss on the top of her head, while one of his hands brushed through her hair; she adored the tenderness in that touch; it even made her purr contentedly. Yes, she felt content in this moment, revelling in the fact that they had managed to continue the intimate laziness of the weekend during their most recent round of making out. “I didn't even ask how your day was,” she finally continued after a few minutes with a soft smile, propping up her head so that she could look at him. “Did you do anything interesting?”
“Not really. Just went into town, answered a few letters, and read a bit.”
She nodded. “You've got a lot of books...” His fingers trailing down her spine made her shiver, and she let out a low hum. “What did you read then?”
He smirked, and let his fingers trail further down on her back. “There's this small book store, and the assistant said I should try Tolkien.”
“The first 300 pages are a bit of a drag, but I'm sure you'll love it,” she replied, with an enthusiastic undertone. “I read it the first time after Tom's father left me, and it taught me not to give up, to never lose hope, and I fell in love with the richly detailed background; it's fascinating what Tolkien came up with. I mean, he even developed all those languages in the book himself.”
Her enthusiasm amused him; it even made him laugh briefly. “I'm still trying to get through the first 300 pages, it is a bit of drag, but you make it sound as if it's worth it–”
“Absolutely is!” She shifted her position slightly upwards, and kissed him tenderly. “Are you still comfortable? I mean, I could roll off if I'm too heavy–”
He shook his head, and rubbed her back. “I'm fine... Are you?”
Helen nodded, smiling broadly. “I could fall asleep like this. You know, just lying here, listening to your heartbeat, with your hands brushing over my back.”
Moving carefully, Draco managed to pull the blanket up to cover them a bit—it was December after all. “I was thinking about finding a hobby or something like that, you know?” he said, draping the blanket over her.
“Hmm... thanks.” She helped him as good as she could without sliding off him, then placed a kiss on his chest before settling her chin down again. “A hobby sounds like a good idea. I wish I had the time for it...” She let out a small sigh. “But you should check out the local library for information on what you could find here in the vicinity. They have all sorts of community information there, and a lot of clubs hang flyers up, as well.”
“I might do that.”
“Why not come with us on Saturday? Tom needs to bring back some books, anyway, and you could check out the information they have in the meantime.”
He nodded, a teasing smirk on his lips. ”Do you think we could find a small hidden corner there?” he asked, bucking his hips slightly to emphasise his words. |
a1de7291358444e08e0e28afafa94444 | ['8bc13fba87174b3680c82225fb5402ac'] | Ren reached down with his other hand and she heard the sound of him fiddling with his belt buckle. A shudder of anticipation went through her as he pulled his pants down over his hips. His fingers came out from inside of her and he lined himself up with her entrance. He pushed himself closer, and she felt just the tip of him inside of her. The feeling of him so close was killing her. She grasped his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist, trying to pull him inside of her, but he didn’t move any further.
“Your name, angel,” Ren whispered, keeping his eyes on hers. “Give it to me.”
Rey swallowed, her mouth trembling under his intense gaze. Then she gave in.
“Rey.”
He rewarded her immediately, pushing himself forward until he was fully sheathed inside of her. She cried out at the feeling, her legs holding him tighter. He felt so impossibly good as he started thrusting in and out of her.
“Rey…” Ren moaned against her cheek. “Rey…Rey…”
She lifted her hips to meet him, thrust for thrust. Her hands were clawing at his back, and she idly wondered if she was leaving marks on him, and part of her found a thrill at idea. His lips went to her neck, and he started leaving marks of his own, sucking and biting at her skin.
“Say my name, Rey,” he groaned into her neck.
“Ren…” Rey got out. “ _Fuck_ , Ren…”
His thrusts were starting to come faster as he came undone, her words having an effect on him. She felt his hand slip between them; those long fingers rubbed quick circles around her sex, bringing her right to the edge.
“Wanted you…since I first saw you,” he groaned as he stroked her.
“God, _Ren_.” Her words were barely audible now.
“You wanna come, Rey?” She could hear the grin in his voice, but she was too close to the edge to care.
She nodded against him, unable to find the words.
His thrusts became even more erratic and he was flicking his thumb against her clit, the sensations were becoming too much for her.
“Look at me, Rey,” Ren groaned. “I want you to look at me when you come.”
Rey locked her eyes with his. His dark eyes were intense on her face.
“Come,” he said.
The look in his eyes and the command in his voice was enough to bring her release. Ren watched her as she rode out her orgasm. He continued to thrust into her three more times before he found his own release, spilling himself inside her walls. Then he collapsed on top of her, his face buried in her neck.
They were both breathing heavily, and Rey absently started stroking his hair. She supposed she should be swimming in regret, but she was having a hard time feeling anything other than satisfaction. This hadn't exactly been what she came to Las Vegas for, but she would certainly call it a win.
“So,” she said. “What now?”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Yes, here is the desired smut. Hope you enjoyed it!
7. Questions
“Have you given up any information to anyone outside of this agency?”
“No,” Rey said. “I haven’t.”
Luke looked her over. She was sitting in the chair in front of his desk, waiting for him to ask her something else. He had been questioning people all morning. Any new agent they had was required to see him for this. She could tell he wasn’t enjoying it. Luke was trusting, and he hated making his agents think he was suspicious of them.
“Have you come into contact with any member of the K.O.R.?” Luke asked. He was well aware that she had, but he was reading the questions off a list.
“Yes,” Rey said. She tried to keep herself from blushing as she remembered the last time she “came into contact” with a K.O.R. agent just a few days ago. “On two of my missions.”
“Right, I know about that,” Luke said. “You don’t need to explain again.”
Rey let out a breath. She hated lying to him. It was worse when she had to do it repeatedly.
“And you’ve never voluntarily given up information about the J.C. to a member of the K.O.R.?” From his tone, it sounded like this was the last question.
“No,” Rey said. “I haven’t.” This wasn’t a lie. Ren had found her on missions, but she didn’t know how he had done it. She had certainly never given him any information on where she would be.
“Alright,” Luke said, setting down his pen. “That’s it.”
“Do you really think you’re going to find a mole by asking these questions?” Rey asked. She had been wondering this for a while. “Whoever it is could be lying.”
Luke scanned her face. “Rey, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s spotting a liar.”
Rey swallowed. She’d keep that in mind. “Do you agree with your sister? Do you think we have a mole?”
Luke shook his head. “I don’t. I’m only doing this for Leia’s sake.”
“But if we don’t have a mole, then how has the K.O.R. shown up on two of our missions?” This was something she had been wondering herself. How _exactly_ did Ren know where she was going to be? Finn was her source, but what was his?
“I don’t know,” he said. “But I know none of us are responsible.”
Rey nodded. She agreed with him. It was hard to imagine anyone Luke and Leia handpicked to join them being a mole. Luke and Leia took everyone in like family, and they were always very thorough in their investigations into each potential agent. “I think you’re right,” she said.
“You’re not going to be going on any missions for a little while, Rey,” Luke said suddenly.
Rey’s eyebrows shot up. “ _What_?” | 9c5ddf0e9a334f34be55dfa7f7a7546e | ['8bc13fba87174b3680c82225fb5402ac'] | Then she thought about what he said to her in the cabin, how he had apologized, and told her that he deserved her hatred. His explanation of why he did it, that this Hux person had made him do it and he was scared of his boss Snoke, sounded reasonable, and the way he looked at her seemed so sincere. But she was scared to believe it, because if she believed it she might forgive him, and if she forgave him…she did not know what would come after that.
She sat at her desk at the J.C. exactly seventeen days after she had left Ren in the cabin. For once, she wasn’t actually thinking about him but instead was filling out the paperwork on the sniper job she had finished a couple of nights prior. She was getting close to done when she heard a knock on her door.
“Come in!” she called.
When the door opened she glanced up from her papers and saw Finn step inside her office. She greeted him with a smile.
“Hi, Finn,” she said.
He returned her smile as he closed the door behind him. “Hi.”
“What’s up?” she asked, placing her pen on the desk and straightening up. “Did you need something?”
“No, don’t need anything,” Finn said, approaching her desk. He didn’t take a seat in either of the chairs. “I just wanted to see about you.”
Rey tilted her head to the side. “How do you mean? I’m finishing up my paperwork from the mission if that’s what you’re asking.”
He shook his head and scanned her face quickly. “That’s not what I mean.” His smile was gone, and he seemed a little uncomfortable. “How are you doing, Rey?”
Rey smiled again, but felt put off by his nervous energy. “I’m fine, Finn. What’s this about? You’re acting strangely.”
Finn reached up and scratched the back of his neck, his eyes turning towards the floor. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
Her smile fell from her face at his words. “Finn, what is it? I don’t understand.”
He sighed and looked up to meet her eyes again. “Rey, you’ve been acting weird for weeks now.”
Rey was taken aback. “ _I’m_ acting weird? Finn, you’re the one who came into my office looking like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“That’s true,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been acting weird for weeks.”
“And how have I been acting weird?” Rey demanded.
Finn bit his lip and exhaled before speaking. “You’ve been way more social than usual. Every time there’s a conversation around here, you’re in it. You keep on saying you want to meet up with people outside of work, which you hardly ever did before. You’re even laughing louder than usual, like you’re over compensating.”
Rey scoffed at his remarks. “So what? It’s a crime to hang out with people in the office? Come on, Finn.”
Finn sighed and seemed to think over his next words. “Jessika said she heard you crying in the bathroom.”
Rey’s shoulders deflated at that comment.
“Twice,” he added.
Rey bit her lip and fell back into her chair. She stared at her fingernails, not wanting to meet Finn’s eyes. She felt too embarrassed to look at him. She had escaped to the bathroom to cry a few times over the last few weeks, but she had no idea anyone had heard her.
“I might not have said anything about this, but when Jessika told me that, I got worried,” Finn said, and Rey could hear genuine concern in his voice. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on. That’s your business. I just wanted to let you know I’m here for you if you need anything.”
Rey didn’t say anything or look up. She just continued to stare at her nails. It was silent for almost a minute before she heard Finn turn around and head for the door, apparently having had enough of this discomfort. Rey gritted her teeth and considered just letting him leave. That would probably be for the best, but still, he had come to her office offering her his help, and Rey so desperately needed to talk to someone. This was the thought that compelled her to say something.
“Finn,” she said when his hand was on the doorknob of her office.
He turned around and looked at her, waiting for her to speak again.
Rey swallowed. “Will you come over to my place tonight? Seven o’clock?”
Finn nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you then.” And he opened the door and left her office.
*****
Rey spent the rest of the day going back and forth about whether it was a good idea to tell Finn what had happened with Ren. She trusted him, and as a former K.O.R. agent, she felt like he would understand more than anyone. But she also didn’t want to put him in a position where he might have to lie for her, or at the very least he’d be keeping something from his superiors. It seemed selfish to tell him. But if she didn’t talk about this with someone, she might very well go insane, and Finn had offered his help, and she so desperately wanted to take it.
After she ate her dinner, she waited anxiously in her living room, flipping through channels and bouncing her leg up and down. She kept looking at the clock under her TV, counting down the minutes until seven.
6:40…6:47…6:52…6:57…7:00
When the clock struck 7:00 she turned around on the couch and looked at the door. No knock came. She told herself it was ridiculous to imagine that he would be there at exactly the right time. No one ever did that. She turned back to the TV and tried to pay attention to whatever episode of The Office this was. |
ed23b3613e9d424988c1b6fd18e15b96 | ['8c1d3c80082c4ae39201ad91e82e7559'] | “Not with the latest in Future Industries innovations,” Asami explained. “Those crystals won’t see the surface for more than a day, tops. They’ll be launched far, far away into space, where if they detonate, they won’t be able to harm anyone.”
“But you said so yourself… this mission will take _months_. That’s a lot of time for something to go wrong!”
“Yes, but if we maintain core-like conditions, which our ship is designed to do in the posterior chamber, then we are at no greater risk of a Crystalline Eruption than we’d be if the stones stayed at the center of the earth.” Asami sipped her tea. “Trust me, I was terrified too when Korra filled me in, but we have to do this.”
“But you don’t have to drag my daughter into it!” Mako said stubbornly.
Korra swallowed. “Mako, I wouldn’t have asked if there was any other way. But we need the best earthbenders we can find for this mission. We need sandbenders at the point of entry. We’ve run all the numbers, and the Si Wong Desert is by far the best route we can take. Then we need lavabenders after we reach the mantle. Then probably metalbenders as we reach the denser minerals of the outer core. And all along, we’ll need seismic sense in order to detect enemy interference.” She sighed. “Mako… out of all the earthbenders we know, how many can do all of the above?”
Xing Yan lifted a scone to her lips and avoided eye contact.
Mako hated the fact that Korra was right.
“I’m not the only one, though,” Xing Yan said hurriedly. “I mean, I’m going, I’m definitely going, but there will be other earthbenders with me. Korra, Bolin, and Remi can all cover for me when I need extra help.”
“Sweetheart… are you sure you want to go?” Wu asked gently, no trace of judgment in his voice.
Xing Yan nodded.
“She’s an adult, honey,” Wu said as he turned to Mako, his own eyes crusted with tears. “Even if we oppose her with everything we have, we have no right to stop her from making her choice.”
Mako hated even more the fact that Wu was right.
“So Xing Yan… you and Remi are going to be traveling… together?”
“Well, don’t forget the rest of us!” Deken piped up, and everyone turned to look at her.
“You’re not an earthbender!” Mako protested. It bugged him that Bolin, Deken’s own father, seemed unbothered by this arrangement. Of course, he had probably known about the whole thing for months.
“I need her for communication!” Korra explained. “She and Jinora will be our ground support. Deken will stay on the ship and use her spiritual projection to send out a distress signal if anything goes wrong… which it _won’t_ … and Jinora will likewise project to us if she becomes aware of anything amiss on the surface. Meanwhile… meanwhile, Mikko will accompany us to provide necessary medical services.”
At the far end of the table, Varrick squeezed Zhu Li’s hand. Clearly, they didn’t like this any better than Mako did, but like Bolin, they seemed to have made peace with the idea long ago.
Well, Mako didn’t have to sit idly by just because the others had given up.
“And what about Hotaru?” he asked flippantly.
“What _about_ Hotaru?” Korra seemed genuinely confused.
“What’s his role?”
Asami looked like she’d been slapped in the face.
“What is your son going to do while the rest of us sacrifice our children to your draft, Madame President?” Mako felt the heat, literal and figurative, rise inside his chest.
“How _dare_ you!” Korra reprimanded through gritted teeth.
“Mama, forget it!” Hotaru said.
“Forget it? He just compared me to President Shui! As if you haven’t been through more than your share of sacrifice already!”
“Mama, this is what I was trying to make you understand all along!” Hotaru grabbed the edge of the table and pulled himself up to look as though he were standing, even though his arms were doing all the work. “It’s not that I wanted to lose my legs fighting a war I never signed up for. It’s that the war needed me! Do you really think that Deken, Mikko, Xing Yan, or Remi want to give up their lives for the next few months just for the hell of it? They don’t want to go any more than their parents want them to go. But this isn’t about what we want! This is about what the world needs! The Avatar, of all people, should understand that!”
Korra froze, eyes as wide as those of a catdeer standing in the headlights of a Satomobile.
“If I was any good on Project Core, at all, I’d be coming along in a heartbeat,” Hotaru said as he collapsed back into his wheelchair. “But I’m not. And you’re glad I’m not, and you know it, and it’s not fair to me or Mako or Xing Yan or anyone else, but it’s just the way things turned out. So just… count your blessings, I guess, but don’t pretend it doesn’t suck for everyone else.”
“You’re right,” Korra sighed. “It’s not fair. This mission isn’t safe, and I don’t want any of us to have to go. But there’s just no other way.”
“I… I get it,” Mako confessed. “I hate it, but I get it.”
“Just do your best to keep my friends safe, please, Mama?” Hotaru begged.
“With my life,” Korra swore. She turned to Mako and Wu, to Bolin and Opal, to Varrick and Zhu Li. “I promise all of you, I will protect your children, the heroes Arva gave us all, as though they were my own. Because in a way, they are.”
Mako threw his arms around Xing Yan.
“Hold her to that promise, all right?” he whispered into her ear.
* * *
The tunnel stretched all the way to the earth’s core. | cc628d6da1354e15bd787ef7d03ab4fd | ['8c1d3c80082c4ae39201ad91e82e7559'] | That warehouse, the place he and Vinnie had made their encampment with a good company of people, the rest of whom were no more, had been filled to the brim with pistachios. It was what drew them there in the first place—the promise of all that protein, ripe for the taking.
The pistachio had been the nut that lured their comrades to their deaths.
Balthazar felt sick to his stomach. He darted up in bed, hand over his mouth, convulsing. Vinnie put a hand on his shoulder and motioned for Balthazar to take deep breaths.
And yet, there was one matter that warranted investigation.
“Do you suppose they’re still there?”
8. Chapter 8
“Are you completely insane?” Savannah hissed in the hallway of the Security Coalition’s headquarters after Balthazar and Vinnie told her about the proposal they had sent to Mr. Block.
“That warehouse is in the thick of the Hot Zone, and it’s a four-day walk outside the city!” Brick pointed out. The Hot Zone was the region of the tri-state area that had been impacted the hardest. There were other cities like Danville elsewhere that were in various stages of rebuilding (although regular contact was difficult in the absence of much gasoline), but the Hot Zone showed no sign of any human activity having been present whatsoever in the past few years. Even the nomads who showed up in Danville now and then seeking refuge originated from some other location—some had even trekked the long way around the Hot Zone because they knew all too well the perils of crossing it.
“I am entirely serious,” Balthazar insisted, and he was—marching into a hellhole like that was no laughing matter, after all. Truthfully the thought terrified him. But he didn’t dare show it to anyone besides Vinnie, because any of his comrades or superiors would take the slightest betrayal of uncertainty as a sign that the mission was entirely foolish. “There is evidence that the pistachio could lead to a cure for vampirism, the worst plague to ever afflict humanity!”
“And you’re suggesting we march right into it? No thanks!” Brick crossed his arms.
“Well… strictly speaking he didn’t suggest _you_ march into it,” Vinnie said. He swallowed. “All he needs is for Mr. Block to authorize our use of patrol equipment and absence for the time it takes to retrieve the nuts. Then the two of us can go. Naturally, we’d feel a lot better about our odds with you two at our side, but we can’t force you to come along.”
Balthazar nodded, although his heart sank just a little bit at the idea of having less backup. But he and Vinnie had survived for years as mostly just a party of two. They had what it took.
He hoped.
Mr. Block emerged from his office.
“After consulting both the city officials and our best researchers… I can approve this mission, as the potential benefit outweighs the risk. However, seeing as we have to retain at least some of our top hunters, I can only dispatch up to two of you.”
“Good. Have fun,” Savannah said, stepping backwards and away. Brick followed her.
Vinnie placed a hand on Balthazar’s shoulder. “Are you ready for this?” he asked, as though Mr. Block were not there.
Balthazar looked his partner right in the eye. “I am utterly ready.”
“Utterly ready” became their go-to term in the days that followed. They were “utterly ready” when they packed the best equipment and yet the scantest provisions, leaving room to haul as many pistachios back as they possibly could. They were “utterly ready” when they dusted off the old map that had sat on the shelf for many years, hoping the boundaries of the more vampire-ridden areas had not changed too much. They were “utterly ready” when they dropped off Gregory with the Chase family, assuring him, with tears in their eyes, that they would come back as soon as they completed the mission, determined that he not be orphaned twice.
And they were “utterly ready” when they set foot outside the city gate, knowing that one way or another, they would become history.
The first two nights truly weren’t that bad. After all, proximity to a city with a competent vampire patrol system in place had either depleted or driven away any local vampire populations. They saw the first one in the pre-dawn twilight on the second night, and killed it by instinct. Balthazar tried to suppress the nagging question of whether it could have been saved with the new cure, whether that made killing it tantamount to murder, but when he saw the second and third vampire converging on Vinnie, well, there was no question about it—they must die.
Once the sun rose and the hunters found a particularly bright spot on a rooftop to set up camp to grab a few hours’ sleep, Balthazar noticed Vinnie shaking just a tiny bit, and he knew without a word being spoken that the same question had been eating at his partner just as much. And without a word, he drew Vinnie closer to himself, letting him know that it was okay, that the kills had not been in vain, that they were both still good men.
The third night proved more trying, as vampire sightings became more and more frequent, and so did the slayings. They may have been somewhat out of shape, but the muscle memory and reflexes to protect themselves and each other were all still there. There were some close calls, but neither man suffered any real injury as they fought off the predators.
It was on the fourth night, when they were perhaps just a few blocks away from the warehouse, that the full impact of what they were about to do, of what they had already done, washed over them both.
To Balthazar’s shock, it hit Vinnie harder. |
2932906a5e9b47a1b9d0ec9d494200b4 | ['8c320797bf444858be1764ec209bf851'] | The next morning Harry pours them down the drain, one by one, watching in satisfaction and they disappear.
Draco watches till he stalls at the last bottle.
“Just in case?” Harry says except it sounds like a plea.
When Fred and George barge in, Harry thinks he hears the door shut with a bang.
Fred jumps up in the air at that (“Your house is haunted harry” he says in awe)
The last bottle of the potion lies on the kitchen floor.
Draco doesn’t come back.
{“Hermione, hermione I think I did something terrible” Hermione rubs her sleep ridden eyes.
“Harry calm down” she attempts as Harry tries to tell her, tell her that he can’t find him anywhere}
Malfoy’s robes stay put as Harry puts them away, folded and neat in the same order he likes them, picks up the stray socks that litter the house, throws away the muggle idiot box.
(“I am sorry mister potter” the girls voice squeaks “But mister Malfoy hasn’t been to work in a week)
And when Harry is done rebuilding the bathroom, with a bigger tub and exotic sounding shampoos he doesn’t touch when Hermione walks in.
{“There is a reason why the potion is not in common use Harry” she sounds defeated.
Nononon pleaseGodno
“Maybe he just got tired and left Harry”}
That night Harry wakes up because he sees a flash of blonde against the window.
He thinks he hears Draco laugh then.
Faint and far away.
And Harry thinks he sounds happy, happy and far away.
The ache in the middle of his chest grows stronger as the kitchen shelf, third one to the right slams shut. | a0fae374ecf34f2dbc5eb0c521b781a1 | ['8c320797bf444858be1764ec209bf851'] |
1. Chapter 1
The drapes were drawn enough and yet the faintest sunlight that poured through irritated his eyes. He wanted to shout for the elves to cast a charm over it, or something to prevent the sunlight from filtering in but his throat was sore. Even a scream sounded like a whisper in the big empty room, Draco groaned.
He could hear the faint sounds from the outside world, his door opening as someone padded in. In any other circumstance Draco would have sat straight and refused to show how vulnerable he was, but given his condition that was not possible.
He could feel the bed dip as he squinted to see who it was, the soft hand on his hair was answer enough "Mother" he whispered.
"Why do you do this Draco?" She sounded pained, the unmistakable crack at the end of her voice.
'If you wanted to help you should have brought a healing salve instead', Draco doesn't voice his uncharitable thoughts, he curls further into a ball as his mother idly strokes his hair.
It was years before that he put a stop to this, or rather his father said "stop fussing Narcissa; you don't want the boy growing up to be a pansy".
He shrugged off his mom's hands then and refused to let her touch his hair anymore, he had forgotten how comforting those simple gestures were.
"Your father..." she begins, her hand stilling, he knows his mother is choosing her words carefully. She doesn't want to sound disapproving, but he knows she had struggled to contain herself during the ordeal.
Watching her only son suffer through multiple terms of cruciatus wasn't a fate any mother wished to have, but there was a need. And no matter how much Draco hated his father at the moment he had understood that too.
His refusal to the Dark Lord would come at a price.
"We can't protect you always" she says instead.
He knows this to be true, though for a moment he just wants to curl up and complain about the unfairness of it all. He was still 16, not even old enough to do magic outside the hallways and classrooms of Hogwarts, he was too young to take up burdens that the Dark Lord expected him to, no matter what honour everyone would perceive it to be.
'Stupid Potter' he thought viciously, it always burned down to her.
Her and her vigilante group of friends perpetually in trouble, it was splashed across the papers too. How Potter had broke into the Ministry of Magic, something to do with a prophesy and the Dark Lord in battle.
No Potter had screamed in the middle of history of magic and ran out during her owls. She had been brought back to the castle in secrecy.
Draco would never admit to roaming in the hallways waiting for her, after all the end of the year Potter adventure was a Hogwarts tradition.
He didn't want to see her smug, gloating face, another victory against powers unknown, with sheer luck and audacity, and all that would culminate to her victory in the house cup.
The castle was draped in darkness as the floo in the nurse's office flared and for a short while Draco stood there frozen in anticipation.
The troop that followed weren't quite a surprise, Longbottom looked worse for wear supporting an equally bad female Weasley, Lovegood stumbled after her blonde hair looking singed with Granger and the Weasley. Dumbledore seemed to be levitating Potter behind him as Madam Pomfrey fussed about them.
Draco who never particularly liked Dumbledore still believed the man to be extremely powerful, was surprised to see that he looked worried, exhausted and old.
His eyes slid back to Potter on the bed, she was awake now as Madam Pomfrey tried making her drink something, she was shaking her head.
Stupid stubborn Potter.
It was unmistakable the worrying looking that Weasley and Granger kept shooting her, it was Potter who spoke up finally.
Draco was too far away to hear what exactly was asked, an outsider looking in, he couldn't move any closer without letting the others know.
When Granger nodded to Potter's question, it was Dumbledore who placed his arm over Potter's shoulders. Her eyes widening in shock, as if she couldn't believe what she heard was true.
She doubled over like she was in pain and as Madam Pomfrey bustled towards her; a subtle nod from Dumbleore prevented her.
There was something utterly heartbreaking about the way Potter huddled in herself, bent over like she was suffering some unbearable agony, like nothing in the world would make her better.
Draco didn't know what was being said, but no one made a move to touch her, Potter looked like she was shivering and yet there was no trace of tears.
Not that he ever harboured any soft spot for Potter and her rag tag team of Gryffindors, but at that moment Draco realised how vulnerable Potter was.
His greatest enemy was on a hospital bed crying and Draco didn't feel so victorious after all.
That his 'greatest enemy' was a 15 year old girl who liked like her heart had been ripped out and Draco felt wretched.
He couldn't take his eyes away from her form, like an accident you couldn't drag your eyes away from. There was no reason this 15 year old girl was going to save the wizarding world, her fingers gripping the edge of the bed tight enough to tear the cloth.
There was nothing pretty about the sight, of human weakness and sorrow, of being broken enough that there was nothing left to fix. He wanted to shake her, grip her bony shoulders and shake her till she screamed
"how are you going to save us Potter?"
"How are you going to save me?" |
dc805108ca34497e8739ad619deed9f7 | ['8c3ee1b2b4d948068eabc28e6c843087'] | Perfection
He’d thought she’d been perfect. And she was.
From the very first moment he saw her, she’d been beautiful. Full lips, soft hair, dark eyes, etcetera. She was the reason he wanted to get better, to be a good person, all for her. For a while it was, in fact, perfect. Beautiful, like her.
He still remembers the first time he had her- in the, er, biblical? way, of course- and he doubts he’ll ever forget. It really was intense, with her hair spreading out across the pillow like a sandy-colored halo, skin hot, her slim hands pressed over her mouth in an attempt to muffle any moans that would alert her downstairs parents, a few sugar-sweet gasps slipping out despite her efforts. It was sweet, it was slow, it wasn’t messy at all. It was quiet. Kinda nice. Too nice.
Then, of course, it all went to literal hell. She left him- told him to go away, so he did. Not that he minded, after all, with Violet’s parents out of the way, and her… hating him up in her room, he could do whatever he wanted. Yeah. Totally not lonely at all. Murder without bounds, right? Right.
Thankfully, every stormcloud has to have a silver lining. Or, rather, in this case, every haze of smoke and rubble has its lining of gore.
That’s what he smelled like, felt like, tasted like- blood and gunpowder with something sweet- like fear coated in cotton candy. That’s what he looked like, flushed face pressed up against the cold floor, ass in the air, mouth open in a strangled moan against the tile as Tate rocked above him.
He was beautiful, but in a wrong, sick way, different than any way she’d ever been, all long, lean limbs scrabbling for a handhold against the unyielding, slick floor, porcelain-pale skin a gorgeous contrast the the smears of blood streaking his bare back and puddling on the floor from the bodies. Perfect.
Beautiful like the way the officer’s bodies slumped on the ground after only one shot each. Pitiful bastards, couldn’t even take a shotgun-
“T-tate, those were good people-” Oh, right, JD. He raised his eyebrows and moved his hips a few times, eliciting a gasping wheeze from the slim body beneath him.
“Good people? Good people? JD, babe.” He fisted a hand in the other’s black hair and pulled him up to almost eye-level, practically onto his lap, laughing a little at the way he ground their hips together in a rather desperate attempt to gain the previous friction and whimpered weakly at the stinging pressure on his scalp.
“Good people. Is that what you think? Well. Obviously it’s due to your previous position, but you didn’t see, did you? In their eyes. They didn’t understand, they didn’t want to understand. ” Tate practically growled in JD’s ear, forcing his head to stare openly at the broken, blast-riddled, blue-uniformed corpses. He groaned loudly, unrestrainedly, the blood and death turning him on more than he’d readily admit, not caring who or what heard him because goddamn, he didn’t give a fuck who knew anymore, this boy was His through and through.
“Well- chaos killed the dinosaurs, after all.” JD somehow managed to gasp out, another loud moan accompanied by his back arching deliciously to an almost painful curve. Tate buried his face in his neck and sunk his teeth into the curve of his shoulder, reveling in the pained hiss it earned him.
“God, I love that.”
**Author's Note:**
> Whoo- enjoy this... this AU/Crossover/Thing? I'll probably write more for this AU, I know nothing makes sense in this but take the porn anyway.
>
> | 84aa88ef07c64d1e9f8e4c2f09f427fe | ['8c3ee1b2b4d948068eabc28e6c843087'] | Only Two Things
Tate honestly thinks he could only ever taste two things and be perfectly happy.
Sugar is one of them, for when he’s got JD tied up in a way that makes him pant and whine to be touched, to be fucked, beg for it in such a delicious way, collar around his neck and ribbons binding his hands to the headboard- almost wrapped up like a present. Or a dessert.
It’s for when he kissed him hard and messy and painful, sucking the sweet taste that’s just entirely unique to JD from his lips and teeth and tongue, swallowing every syrup-drenched mean from his mouth like it’s candy, sweeter than anything else, reveling in how Jason kisses him back as if Tate’s one of those absurd slushies he insists on sucking down constantly.
Blood is the other, from when the begging and whimpering from whatever pathetic excuse for a human he’s killing stops and it starts screaming, from the way crimson drips out of ragged rips in flesh, down off limp fingertips and onto the cold concrete floor.
From when he licks the red off the silver of his knife and kisses him with someone’s blood on his tongue, for the way the sweetness of JD’s mouth bleeds into the metallic tang until it’s a taste that’s unspeakably exquisite, for the way bloods looks smeared across his pink lips and too-pale face and streaked in his black hair.
For the way he moans like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted, ever asked for, when Tate breaks and pushes him on the floor- right next to the broken corpse of their victim- and bends him over, takes him as loudly and as violently as possible until the smell of gore and sex in the air is so thick you can taste it. Just the way they both like it.
**Author's Note:**
> This is literally all I've been able to write lately. Enjoy...? |
b1e700e932a74be28b63841e17e9914a | ['8c42312a79ec4b55aa5439f3699ea09f'] | “Sweet, we can blow this popsicle stand. Banner, want to get those stretchy boxers of yours on?” Tony responded, eager to get back to the compound away from crazy men with guns. This was supposed to be a day off!
The doctor’s only response was a sigh and an unseen eye roll.
None of them really knew what to expect their find would be. A stack of paper files, samples of the drug maybe?
It was probably a good idea Bruce had exited the jet to Hulk out as the destroy phase of the “search and destroy.” Because everyone’s attention went to the child Bucky was now carrying as Steve used the shield to keep bullets off of them. Thor paused to take in the sight, the Hulk did too when barging in loudly. Though the others did more of a double take.
None of them really needed the full story to feel anger tightening their chests. A child in the hands of Hydra was already terrible.
Natasha hurried to the jet a moment after, preparing the getaway. Hawkeye shot off any threat to the two soldiers, providing cover for the others.
Meanwhile, the Hulk was properly pissed and indiscriminately wrecking the place. Thor joined with violent lightning flashing through the air.
The team gathered in the jet, giving the green monster a moment more of destruction before letting out a deafening roar and returning to the others.
With the team in the air, Natasha took the liberty of landing the final blow, sending missiles into the rubble. Then the team was on their way home.
The ride back to the compound was just as tense, if not more, as their way to Symkaria. Their eyes kept going to the scrawny kid sitting between Steve and Bucky. His eyes were wide, flitting back and forth between the team and the window. When the jet started up he went rigid. His fingers grasped white-knuckle tight to his seat as they rose higher from the ground.
Bucky explained the way he found him, sitting on the floor hugging his knees close. The team remained quiet as they spoke, passing bandages to one another who needed it. They didn’t want to spook the kid anymore. The flight with strangers had him on edge enough.
Almost to America, Bruce moved to sit across the kid. “Hey.” His voice was soft, both to be gentle and from the soreness of the hulk’s outburst. Dark eyes went up and down the doctor’s form and gave no response. “Here, you should get hydrated.” He offered a bottle of water.
After a minute the kid took it, warily inspecting it. Opening the bottle, he merely took a sniff. The amount of caution pulled at Bruce’s heart. No one should be so scared to eat or drink. After another moment of decision, he took a small sip.
He offered a smile. “So. Can you tell me your name?” It would be nice to know what to call the boy. He wasn’t given an answer. Not even the shake of his head, just a tired face watching him back with no trace of what thoughts could be going through his head.
7. Chapter 7
Having arrived at the compound the first thing to be done was take care of the kid. Bucky, who seemingly is the one who left an impression on the boy, led him along to the medical wing. Bruce joined them shortly to make sure the kid was… as okay as he could be.
Again it took a moment for him to respond to the doctor, but he was surprisingly compliant. Bruce was expecting the kid to shy away and avoid his touch. But he didn’t mind letting him check temperature, reflexes, and the like. He knew the drill it appeared, but then again a subject for something like the super serum would probably need regular check ups.
Bruce gently felt the boy’s throat. “Can you tell me your name now?” He tried again. With how it was going he assumed he’d get an answer.
He still didn’t say a thing. Though he moved to his shirt. Bruce figured it was for the stethoscope. About to tell the kid he could keep his shirt on and reach under, he stopped to see him pull out a metal chain. The boy watched Bruce. When he didn’t do anything, the boy reached out to give him a pair of dog tags hanging around his neck.
The doctor adjusted his glasses and looked them over.
The first tag read:
NICOLAS BRAUN
XXXX.08.31
B NEG
TWILIGHT
GUSTAV BRAUN
Well… They had a name for him now. He turned to the second one:
A/0
He frowned. What the hell did A/0 mean? His eyes went back to the boy. “Your name is Nicolas?” Wanting to confirm.
Nicolas nodded. Returning the tags around his neck, the physical continued. For now, it was his health that was important. Though his silence was unsettling as well. Nic understood what they said to him, in English. But he hadn’t made a single sound himself. Did those monsters condition him not to talk? Not speaking in fear of punishment? What ever it was had Bruce holding back shades of green. It was hard to hold in anger over the victimized boy.
With a deep breath though, he continued.
* * *
Four in the morning the team had finally gathered for a meeting. With the kid given a room and Friday keeping an eye on him as he slept, the heroes could finally sit and talk about the crazy night.
Everyone was tired and it showed, the way half of them sank into the chairs.
“So…” Tony started as he started his third cup of coffee already. “What’s the news on the kid?” | b9581f44ceba4f559ff877029d29f6e2 | ['8c42312a79ec4b55aa5439f3699ea09f'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> Hi! This is the first fic I'm posting online. I hope you enjoy it. After reading Protective Bucky in Dad mode fics and watching Gangsta. this was thrown together.
>
> I don't own any of the characters or shit, I just threw them all together out of self-indulgence.
For Bucky life was starting to brighten. Finally away from manipulation and now with Steve. There was tension among him and the Avengers when he moved in, but Steve insisted he was safe. Natasha didn’t seem to mind. She looked distrustful as ever, but he was pretty sure that neutral glare was her usual expression.
It was weird to not have to prowl about. Hydra drilled stealth into his brain. It was hard to break the habit of slipping into rooms unnoticed. Tony had broken so many mugs when a Bucky suddenly showed up in the kitchen at two AM.
Getting used to little everyday socializing was hard. He barely spoke even when spoken to during his fucked up years. Steve was his biggest support. They were childhood friends after all. Even if Bucky couldn’t remember their days in the forties, Steve was an anchor that he needed.
He and Natasha were on good terms. They would train or be up at weird hours. Either way, she seemed to understand without a word. The silence between them wasn’t awkward, and she didn’t push a conversation. Bucky appreciated it.
Sam, that was the guy flying around on jet-pack wings he remembered. It was strangest to be with him. He pretty much nearly killed the guy. Well he did that to Steve and Nat too, but they seemed way too used to this sort of stuff. Sam was someone he barely knew anything about. Other than his name and the wings thing. Steve had insisted that Sam was a friend, that he could help through the hard memories. Bucky wasn’t sure what to make of the man. There was tension but he knew Sam was trying to help out how he could.
Bucky started responding. Little “yes”s and small conversation. Sam found that he’d be shut down harshly if he tried to get into a more personal talk. That’s why he had Steve. Steve knew him better than he knew himself. The blond was there in the middle of the night when Bucky woke up screaming, the voices of Hydra haunting his dreams. He’d share any of these horrid nightmares with his best friend.
Talking about Hydra and what happened there was in a low voice and few words. The worst part is he barely even remembered any of that.
Some parts lingered more. The trigger words, the vague feeling of experiencing a metal arm for the first time, another project that agents hushed about. That was the one that bothered him most. The trigger words still left a knot in his gut but, whatever this project of theirs was it seemed definitely important. And he had no clue what it was.
He told Steve about it, and the man urged him to remember. A project by Hydra was not good in any way he was sure of.
2. Chapter 2
“Bucky. Bucky..! You’re okay.” The brunet blinked his eyes open. His heart was still racing and he could feel the cold sweat cling to his body. Steve was sitting on his bedside, hands firmly on his shoulders. He’d learned that waking Bucky harshly was not a good idea. It lead to self-defense and choke holds. So the soft voice that woke him up and the glint of worry in his eyes was what had Bucky slow down enough to take in that he was now awake. “It’s just another dream. You’re safe, Bucky,” Steve slid his hand into his friend’s flesh one. “I promise.”
With a deep breath, he let his shoulders sag back into the mattress. The sticky feeling of hair on the back of his neck itched but he remained still. Steve smiled to see him relax, their eyes locked on each other. The unnerved tenseness of Bucky’s expression, jaw tight and biting the bottom lip, Steve knew his friend wouldn’t get a restful sleep that night.
Bucky shifted over, making room for Steve to sit beside him. “Twilight.” As Steve settled in his expression froze on Bucky. He knew that was the name of whatever Hydra was doing. Neither of them knew much else, and it was hardly ever the focus of nightmares. “Yeah..?” The blond asked calmly hoping it would coax Bucky into continuing.
A nod came with messy hair coming into his face. Chin down, a small mumble of words fell out. Steve tensed with his stomach in a knot. Even with enhanced hearing he wasn’t sure what his friend said. He hoped he heard wrong though. “… What?”
“More super soldiers.” Bucky repeated clearly, his eyes returning to meet the blond’s. They stayed motionless, speaking through their eyes. Steve swallowed, searching Bucky for any sign that it wasn’t right. In return the soldier kept a fixed gaze seemingly scared to break eye contact first.
Steve felt Bucky squeeze his hand and he returned the gesture. Whether he remembered right or not, Bucky felt it weighing him down. While Steve felt dread rising, he kept himself calm. He was there to comfort his lifelong friend, not scare him more by panicking.
Neither dared to say anything more, settling into the pillow.
3. Chapter 3
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> SO the muses are singing down on me and I'm pumping on chapters really well right now. I decided why not post another chapter? It's setting up the action for next chapter! |
cd9ad991f0234a5c9ff40dc9c41d2d2c | ['8c4e3c8cb81d4737bd1962137bd64a96'] | Yes, the fact that all of those things aligned so perfectly was suspicious to me too, but I don’t really care to analyze it too closely; Hannibal does his Hannibal things of perfect outcomes to get what he wants either way, I mean, c’mon, he is the luckiest bastard that ever lived, I can't even find a rational explanation for how everything always goes his way.
Anyways, I kept telling myself that the Judge will always have the best fucking story to tell the other judges at the campaign reelection dinner fundraisers; at least I hoped he would – I made sure Hannibal understood that, as far as we are concerned, Judge Anderson will have a prosperous election future. Unless he ends up in jail, which I doubt, since Hannibal injected him with a strong sedative once the Judge finished with the official part – at the judge’s own request, I might add – so that he would have a plausible excuse for what he did (I am sure he will act the victim part pretty well) along with a reasonable expectation of not being asked too many unpleasant questions he would rather not have to answer.
I kept wondering what kind of salacious info Hannibal had on him, but, considering the context of why we were there, and in what circumstances, it felt rude to let my eyes wander around the judge’s home office to try and deduce it on my own. Of course Hannibal wouldn’t tell me; always so fucking considerate about sticking to his promises and to his etiquette.
That and, I must admit – my eyes were glued to Hannibal. I was looking at him and I could have sworn I could hear the fucking Wedding March, played on his harpsichord or some similar bullshit exotic instrument, running on repeat in his head.
(And now I am happy this is a letter written in _my head_ , because if he ever actually read this, he would not only divorce me, but enjoy eating my fucking ears as punishment, everything else be damned.)
He looked beautiful. Not handsome, beautiful. It’s a ludicrous word to use to describe him, I know. And, it’s not the first time I used it today. I felt the world was constricting around us, there was barely enough space just for the two of us, our reality filling up everything else and erasing it into oblivion at the same time.
And as you’d expect, the thing felt unreal, starting with all the questions that were posed to me regarding the divorce that had to be officially finalized before the marriage could be considered legal; and I am pretty sure that the questions “did she sign this of her own free will, not under duress” or “is she even alive” were added purely for our benefit, and some kind of consciousness-unburdening for the Judge himself. Though this second reason probably suffered major setbacks as soon as Hannibal explained ever so patiently – his bristling irritation aimed squarely at me, like I made him dive head first into some kind of bureaucratic Hell since I wouldn’t let him kill my wife – “if she wasn’t alive, we wouldn’t need the divorce, would we”. I chuckled again, because unreality and absurdity were reaching worrisome levels, and for a moment I was truly afraid that I would succumb to a giggling fit and ruin the whole thing for Hannibal, who is, as you would guess, deadly serious not only about rituals and ceremonies of every kind, but also about this particular moment between us.
Not that I didn’t appreciate the seriousness of the moment, as we were driving towards the Judge’s house, the realization of how fucking dangerous it was to waste time on it, how impractical in the then current scheme of things, how stubborn and insane all of it was, remembering that not just a few hours previously I was ridiculing his insistence on empty metaphors and unnecessary symbolism, enraged by the sheer futility of trying to reason with him, when it all hit me, when it was finally clear to me; that all the symbolism and metaphors were already stripped away from the idea, and believe me, that stripping happens fucking fast when you kill someone together, when you take someone apart in the cold night air and moonlight, and when that person-with-you, that person-always-with-you, that murderer, takes you in his arms, and all you feel is relief, and you know who he is, you never forget it, but you face who you are as well, and what you chose to do, and you cannot avoid it. Denial is denied to me when he is near me. And you try to fight it, you try to kill him, one more time, in some ludicrous attempt to balance the scales, hoping that offering your own life will be enough, hoping that the happiness you feel will be as short lived as the horror when you accept what you want. But it wasn’t; it isn’t.
I will always fight myself to not be, not become, what I know I already am. But I won’t fight him. Not anymore.
I am not tired. I am bare.
And once all those thoughts hit me, and once they left their useless futile marks, all that was left was the feeling of how fitting it was, how effortless it was to not only say “I do”, but to hear Hannibal say “I do” and not have the urge to run as far as possible while hoping there is another cliff on the way that I could use more effectively this time. | 07fe172e3134415e9cd9a3bd2b313205 | ['8c4e3c8cb81d4737bd1962137bd64a96'] | “And is your entirely pointless effort in cleaning up the floor a way to try to distract me or yourself?”
Will is frowning. He isn’t really sure why he can’t stand, or sit, still. “I am sure you are fully aware that what you are asking for comes with consequences. For both of us.”
Hannibal’s voice becomes softer. “Why is that so inconceivable for you?”
Will was still on his knees, next to the stain, and there seemed to be an endless amount of broken glass; his head jerks anxiously towards Hannibal. “Are you out of your fucking mind? Two hours ago was the first moment in a long while when we did _not_ actually try to kill each other. And by ‘long while’ I literally mean that it hadn’t even been twelve hours.” Will gathers the pieces, feeling Hannibal’s gaze stuck on his hands.
Hannibal laughs. “All the more reasons for it.”
Will frowns at Hannibal again, but admires that the man allows himself to have fun indiscriminately. “Those reasons only make sense to you.”
“Do you accept the reality of our relationship?”
“Do you even accept the reality of the situation we are in?”
Hannibal ignores the practical concerns, for now. “I see no detrimental factors there.”
“And I am asking you again- ”
Hannibal’s eyes darken. “-It was always going to be exactly as it is now. Quite a few other things could have been worse, but none would have been better.”
“You cannot just say things and presume I will see them from your point of view.”
“Isn’t that precisely what you are good at?” Hannibal’s voice is full of understated unpresuming control again, and Will wants to strangle him.
“What… Is this some kind of test, Hannibal?”
“It’s proving to be a test of my patience.”
“You are making it so easy to tell you to just fuck off.”
They were staring at each other intently. Hannibal enjoys every second of it. “What exactly would you have expected me to do, Will? Get down on one knee, and tell you about the moment I met you in a quivering voice? Is there a sentimental romantic hiding underneath all the violence, death and blood? In either one of us?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Why can’t you just let us be? Your constant need to act on what you want as the next step is infuriating.” Will keeps on pretending it wasn’t him that was making all the next steps in the last few hours, _well_ _a blow job is one thing, this is fucking different_.
“What is it that is truly bothering you?”
“Most importantly, your motivation.”
“You think I aim to legally bind you to myself? Control you with signed contracts?”
“Of course _your_ reasoning would jump straight to control.”
“As of course you are fully aware that if I ever thought a signature would keep you from leaving me, I would consider myself a complete fool. I am not trying to exert control over your life, Will.”
“Are you really surprised I am wary of that?”
Hannibal takes a moment of silence. Their voices hadn’t raised, but there was an outburst of anxiousness and rage bubbling in the air between them, and not the typical kind that was already mostly implied. Suddenly, he doesn’t wholly appreciate the direction their conversation had taken. His voice is clear and calm when he speaks again. “Why are you pretending that you don’t understand my motives?”
“Why are you then pretending it is just a matter of whatever practicality you decided to resolve?”
“I am not. And it is not.”
“What is it then?”
“I want to.” Hannibal offers nothing else.
“You want to be married?” Will wants to add “to me”, but he is afraid his voice would give him away. Give away exactly what, he isn’t entirely sure. Because what he is pretty damn sure about is that his eyebrows are already somewhere on the top of his head, since they shot up in surprise at the word that actually came out of his mouth, in clearly understandable, undeniable sounds. His mind is scrambling to find coherency to Hannibal’s thinking; like he could decipher its cause, knowing well he can’t. He isn’t even allowing himself to start understanding his own emotional reaction; he is pretending he does not have an emotional reaction in the first place. All he knows is that he wants to go to sleep, or get drunk; avoidance usually works for him when he wants it to.
“Yes.” Hannibal thinks for a moment, “And I want for you to have security. If I am caught-”
“-You mean “we”, if we are-”
“-If we are caught, I need to be sure that you have uncontested legal access to my lawyers, and my money.” Hannibal’s gaze does not leave Will’s, who is doing his best to avoid it. “And yes, there is one thing, on a practical level. Power to make decisions on my behalf, should the situation present itself.”
Will decides to ignore that last bit; it draws dark over his mind that Hannibal is screwing with him, again. “All those sound like practical but inconsequential issues… Because, Hannibal, what fucking good will the money do us when we are both in prison?”
Their eyes lock in a few moments of heavy silence.
“Your sentence would be measured in years, Will.” |
b6ddfc3294c046d3b2377547290ee03d | ['8c53a904180242ce84cf6db7d1941f18'] | "Nice place." Ryan remarked, casually flopping down into the beanbag, letting his wings relax. Jack chuckled and searched out the lightswitch, flicking it on and turning to see the groundbound had slipped inside. Geoff had already seen the guy, shocked at how quickly he'd traversed home, but he pulled on his devil may care smile, the mask in place as much as Ryan's literal skull mask protected him.
"Hello there, Daring Dooley. My Name is Geoff Ramsey and I'm here to offer you, a job." Geoff said, coming forward and placing a hand on Jeremy's shoulder, "Interested?"
\---
Self-preservation kicked in and Jeremy grabbed the hand on his shoulder and twisted, Kingpin crying out with pain. Jeremy used his other hand to grab Kingpin’s wing joint as he had twisted with his arm trying to stop it from breaking, lifting the wing to cover himself. Now any bullets or knives would hit wing and leave him-
"Let. Him. Go." The prick of a knife at his throat and the dark words rumbled into his ear had Jeremy reconsidering his options. Very carefully he released Kingpin, raising his hands into the air, feeling an arm going around his chest to hold him against his captor, the knife shifting slightly but the point still in the same spot, ready to slice him a second mouth.
"I don't know anything. You got me confused with someone else." He said quickly, trying to think why the FUCK the Fakes would be here in his nest, "I'm not important in any fucking way, there's no reason to kill-"
"I think you just gave me a damn good reason." The Vagabond rumbled, arm constricting against Jeremy's chest, pulling him tighter to his body, dark wings blocking either side of Jeremy's vision as the knife pressed that bit harder.
"Vagabond! Christ that hurt… Vagabond let him go." Kingpin grunted, shaking his hand out and sitting up on a stool by Jeremy's counter, "I got a job offer Kid, not to kill you or rob you. Calm the fuck down."
"Um…" Jeremy looked over his shoulder as best he could while being held, seeing blue eyes in dark sockets of the skull mask. Vagabond made a click with his tongue, a sound of disappointment as he slowly released Jeremy, the knife coming away then a hand planting between shoulder blades to shove Jeremy forward.
"Sit." Vagabond ordered and Jeremy didn't see any reason to disobey, sitting down cross legged on the floor where he'd been standing. The red head chuckled and the Vagabond rolled his eyes, "I meant… sit on the beanbag."
"Oh…" Jeremy flushed, embarrassed but how the fuck was he meant to know? He's a hostage in his own home and escape didn't work so next on the list was complete compliance. With his heart thumping and throat itchy where he'd been pricked with a knife, Jeremy realised that, oh damn did he want to live.
Or at least, not die by those hands.
"You got to admit it was good instincts." The redhead piped up looking at Vagabond who shrugged. Her eyes slide to Jeremy's and she gave him a smile, "And good obedience too."
"He's not a dog, Jack, get ahold of yourself." Geoff snapped and shook out his wing before stretching it out with a grunt, "Dooley, I'm gonna let that slide. Cause you didn't know what miracle of a job has landed in your lap."
"I'm not going to fuck any of you." Jeremy blurted out, shocking all three. He didn't think it should have however, since the only other thing he could think of they'd want with him is sex with a groundbound freak.
"We're not here to fuck-" Geoff started then changed tact mid sentence, "Look will you shut the fuck up and let me talk? Hold all questions till the fucking end and all that crap alright?"
Jeremy nodded, but his mind wasn't fully focused. His eyes kept drifting from Geoff Ramsey Kingpin, to Vagabond, to the redhead Geoff had called Jack, and back. Searching for danger. His back hurt as his muscles tried to prepare wings that were no longer there for flight. All his guiding feathers up his forearms and back were raised, and the feathers at the back of his neck too.
"Now, I saw you today at the bakery. You got my attention alright when you fucking crawled out of nowhere." Geoff started talking and Jeremy's eyes settled on him...mostly, "That's when an idea came to me. Not much work for a groundbound in the cities, so we decided to put you through our little test to see-"
It clicked in Jeremy's mind and he surged out of the beanbag, finding himself grabbed by Vagabond, both his elbows pulled back painfully. He didn't care, furiously glaring at Geoff, "You were the FUCKER's who fucked with the bridges aren't you?!"
"I thought you were going to let me finish-"
"You have ANY fucking idea how HARD you make my life pulling stunts like that?! What if I had missed?! Would you have caught me, asshole?! Or just 'welp I guess he can't help us, better luck with the next one.'?"
Geoff had the grace to look a bit ashamed, confronted by Jeremy's rage and the fact only Vagabond was holding him back stopped Jeremy attacking him. Ryan, for his part, was impressed by the ferocity in such a tiny package. Jack knew Geoff had this affect on people and wasn't surprised at all.
"Ok, my bad!" Geoff shouted over Jeremy's shouting and the guy settled down a bit, at least no longer trying to get out of the hold he was in, "Sorry alright? But we needed to know what you could do. And hey, you proved it!"
"Lucky fucking me." Jeremy spat, clearly not over it. Geoff cleared his throat awkwardly and continued on. | 1874a12589754748a4f122bc8a1ffe82 | ['8c53a904180242ce84cf6db7d1941f18'] | “Nothing. I am scared of nothing.” Ray said mildly and Ryan scoffed. In the distance, he heard the roar of Michaels altered car engine and knew the others weren’t too far away.
“That’s bullshit ray. If you’re not scared then why did you set that bounty? Why did you lead us to you? Why talk to us at all?” Ryan tried to reason but Ray leant back on his hands, looking at him once more as on the opposite side of the bridge, Michael pulled up, jumping out of the car with the rest of the crew.
“I wanted you all to witness. Though want is a strong word. More, I thought you should. So you would understand.”
“Understand Ray? What the hell do you think you’re doing? This tantrums cute and all but it’s time to get up and go home!” Geoff reached them first, crossing his arms and lacing his voice with steel. Ray sighed and stood up, leaving his rifle on the ground. He turned fully now, his heels brushing the edge of the bridge, his hands in his pockets. His crew looked at his precarious perch fearfully, knowing Ray was a good breeze away from a long fall and a cold drown.
“Look Ryan. The whole gangs here! And look at your faces. Your all so scared.” He laughed and pulled his hands out of his jacket so he could twirled them at his sides pretending his balance was gone.
“Stop fucking around and get off the dam ledge Ray!” Michael yelled at him, taking a hard step towards him but Alex threw his arm out to stop him. Gavin had pressed his hands to his mouth, eyes wide, for once speechless. He knew how to talk someone off an edge, but only the one side that had them falling.
“Michael your angry.” Ray pointed out grinning and Michael pressed against Alex’s strength.
“Fuck yes I’m angry! You can’t just fuck off for three weeks then set a trail that leads us to a god dam bridge!” Ryan shuffled so he was closer to his crew, everyone looking up at ray with different expressions. Michael obviously angry. Geoff was trying to be stern but Ray could see the pain in his eyes. Gavin was pure anxiety, not knowing what to do. Alex also had concern and love shine from his kind face. Ryan was hardest to read but ray knew that the killer was fighting his protective urges, having nowhere to channel them.
“Look at you all. You know you’re a bunch of sicko’s right?”
“Takes one to know one Ray.” Geoff said firmly, trying to remind him of where he belongs.
“No, you’re different from me.” Ray said slowly, a hand coming up to touch his face, fingers searching for something.
“We all have blood on our hands but you all still feel. Look at you now. You’re meant to be the monsters of Los Santos. But here we are, having a ‘moment’ because that’s what your emotions are telling you to do.”
“Ray, just come off the ledge and talk to us. Please.” Alex tried but Ray stayed where he was.
“Fear, anger, hate, love, loyalty. You have that. I just don’t. Don’t you get that?” he focused on Geoff, he voice pleading, “You gathered us up into one place Geoff. Your little crew of monsters. It’s wrong Geoff. What we’re doing, who we are… it’s wrong.”
“Wrong? What the fuck are you on about?” cried Michael and Gavin couldn’t stay silent any longer.
“Ray please, just come down here and talk to us, we don’t understand what you’re on about.” Ray pointed at Ryan who now shifted.
“Rye bread knows. Don’t you? Go on tell them.” He said begging for back up from the man he was most paired with.
“Why, then, ’tis none to you, for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”
“English Ryan.” Ray said with a roll of his eyes and Ryan stared at him, trying to will him down with his eyes as he translated, “Its a matter of perspective. Nothing is good or bad, only what the person believes.”
“I believe you’re full of shit.” Ray said, glaring at him then across the crew.
“We are bad. We are wrong. Am I the only one who sees’s it?” he scoffed and hit his brow lightly with his palm, “I must be because I’m the only one not blinded by emotion.” Alex took a step forward of his one, hand outstretched.
“You seem pretty dam emotional now ray.” He pointed out and ray shifted on his perch, making hearts leap into throats.
“No, I’m not. I’m being logical here. We need to die, all of us. Anyone like us, who’s broken enough to do the shit we do. I mean come on; we use the Ten Commandments like a check list.”
“Ray Narvaez Junior! We are not having this debate while you’re standing up there! Get down, now, and we will talk about everything at home!” Geoff’s worry broke through making his voice crack. Ray started at being so addressed then he smiled sadly.
“Geoff. Big Daddy Geoff. I told you, you wouldn’t understand.” He said softly. He sighed and reached out a hand, inviting Geoff to come forward and help him down. Relief flooded through them all, as Geoff smiled triumphantly. The shot came piercing out of the night, hitting ray, blood spraying onto Geoff.
Ray tipped back, not another word said as he fell, the water pulling him under the instant he hit.
“RAY!!” Four voices screamed, Ryan only roaring wordlessly before turning to see the mercenary on his bike, having roared up, taken the shot and about to speed away. The vagabond was furious and ran for him, startling the merc into gunning his bike. In an instant, Vagabond leapt onto his own and was after him. |
66ac49fa12084a15ade95cd9025c99d7 | ['8c6130419da24dd88d8fa36ef4d8dadd'] | She doesn’t hear him at first, noise drowned out by the pulsating in her head. She hears only heartbeats, the sound rhythmically pumping in her head. When Shouyou says her name again, she reacts. When she looks up, the concern on his face increases, and almost immediately he kneels down to her. He places a hand on her sweaty cheek, gently smoothing it. She looks shaken, and doesn’t respond to his touch.
_Wake up Harumi. Can’t you smell that?_
"It won't be long, I promise."
He says, but his words don’t pass through to her.
_The blood, breathe in the smell of blood._
She looks at him with blank eyes, as if not comprehending who he was.
_Kill, kill, kill._
Shouyou moves his hand to squeeze the girl’s shoulder, and she blinks, regaining herself just a little.
“We’ll find the demon and then after that we can go to your new home.”
The prospect of a new lodge to stay breaks her out of her small trance, and only energizes her a little. The animalistic look in her eyes is gone, only replaced by worry. Her hand finds Shouyou’s again and they continue to traverse deeper into the battlefield.
The throbbing in her head didn’t go away, however, and her breathing was returning to heavy breaths with each minute that passed by.
_What was that voice?_ She grimaces. _I’ve never felt anything like that…_
Despite the small moment of energy, the anxiety overwhelms her again. She’s certain now that she could hear Shouyou’s heartbeat, a strong pump rhythmically pulsating every second and not once changing in tempo. But there was another one, further away. It was a lighter, but still vivacious and strong. It unnerved her.
_Perhaps… this heart..._
Shouyou almost didn’t hear her voice; soft, hushed, and nervous. When he looked down at her, her eyes were shifting uneasily around their surroundings.
“Is there something wrong?” He asked, eyes narrowing just slightly when she started pulling him deeper inside the battlefield.
“There’s something…”
She murmurs, guiding him between the fallen men an aliens. Her movements are drastically different from just a few seconds ago, lithe an energetic and… animalistic. As if her senses were trained on something like a dog pinpointing the smell of prey.
She weaves through the bodies, searching for clarity in sound. She **_needed_ ** to hear it, **_needed_ ** to see it. She wanted to know who it could be. The Corpse Eating Demon? Do demons even have hearts? She lost thinking about asking Shouyou when she realizes he is pulling her in a different direction.
She sees him.
A boy, sitting on the dead body of a samurai He’s noisily eating a riceball, and Harumi only assumes he hasn’t been eating well at all. Beside him is a sword, clearly taken from one of the corpses. His hair was a bright silver color, curly and messy and dirty from blood and dust. Out of instinct, Harumi begins to slink quietly behind the grey haired man. If she had paid attention, she would have noticed that his walking was completely silent. When he stops, she grasps onto his kimono and grips her pastry box tighter to her. A crow caws and flies off suddenly, causing her to jump, but her gaze focuses on the boy. She can hear his heart beating. So so clearly.
Shouyou smiles, then reaches out to pats the boy’s head. She holds her breath.
“I came after hearing after a corpse-eating demon. Would that be you?”²
_Him? The corpse eating demon?_
Harumi peeks out from behind Shouyou, eyes connecting with the boy’s. They’re crimson, a dark ruby red that shift only briefly from the grey haired man’s gaze to her, looking surprised when she stares unblinkingly back. She wants to say something. What, she doesn’t know. But her sensei takes the words right from her.
“A rather cute demon.”
Almost immediately the boy slaps Shouyou’s hand away, jumping back with an angered glare in his eyes. _Was he distrustful of her teacher? Was he angry that the man called him cute?_
He shakily begins to draw the sword, which is obviously too heavy for him. It’s blade is soaked in blood and it looks worn and weary from years of fighting.
_Probably the latter._
“Did you also take that from a corpse?”
Harumi protectively puts her pastry box behind her back, watching the silver haired boy lick the rice from his mouth. His eyes are sharp and narrowed, searching for a spot to strike.
_He’s obviously still hungry. He must’ve been eating riceballs and whatever food the soldiers had been carrying._
For some reason, even though he looks (and is acting) determined and fearless, she can almost FEEL the anxiousness radiating off of him. She knows he’s frightened and as a sign to Shouyou, she grips onto his kimono a little tighter.
“A single child stripping corpses to protect himself, is it?”
He tenses.
“That’s very impressive.
The boy stands in a fighting stance, his eyes hardening at the grey haired man.
“However, you no longer need that sword.”
_No longer..?_
Harumi looks up at Shouyou, whose eyes are twinkling. They look like the same kind eyes he had when he had rescued her. He tilts his head towards her, and nudges her slightly from behind him. She stumbles out from behind him just a bit, surprise flitting across her face. She looks at the silver haired boy, who watches with sharp eyes. But to her surprise, his stance relaxes.
“A sword that’s only swung in self-defense, while fearing others,” Shouyou says, gripping onto the hilt of his sword. Harumi tenses, and looks at the silver haired boy. Fear flashes on his face as he thinks of the possibilities that could happen.
“...should be thrown away.” | 1a347beff8144402b5ee07b570f6b660 | ['8c6130419da24dd88d8fa36ef4d8dadd'] |
<p></p><div class="center">
<p>Of course you were nervous. They were his fans.</p>
<p></p>
<div class="center"></div>
</div>
</blockquote>
You're a Bumbling Mess
It was happening. This was it, whether you were prepared or not. The fans, the "Reptilian Brotherhood" were going to meet...
"Mommy."
Story is, months back Calvin took a snapchat talking about a new video. Not the first time, it was casual. He was outside in a restaurant, nothing new there. Except.
That day he decided to have the camera aimed right at you as you were reading the large plastic menu. You were so immersed in trying to figure out what dessert you wanted, you hadn't realized he was talking until you looked up, immediately ducking back down. Being the person you were, you had covered your face in embarrassment, only peeking your eye out from behind the plastic menu with an indignant, "Calvin!"
Which was the only thing fans heard before his wheezy laughter ended the snap.
Of course it had blown up, with screenshots hardly an hour later with "MOMMY??" and "WHO IS THIS" being pasted all over twitter and tumblr. Edits of the visible part of your face with the other half being a reptile were circulating all over the internet, to the point where even one of your friends had sent you a photo-shopped picture of yourself.
It was insane—
—ly hilarious.
To him.
While the thought was slightly horrifying, you found yourself strangely amused at the same time.
Either way, the Leaf man was having WAY too much fun with teasing the fans, and they were having a swell time sending him the fandom's new memes. Pictures of a lizard in a cage and a lizard wrapped in the claws of an eagle were being sent to him with tweets saying "When Mommy and Daddy fight" and "When she says she does anal" popping up on his newsfeed. He showed you a majority of them, and you had to admit... they were pretty funny.
But you were still horrified.
With each passing day the fans requested him to make a video with you, but he kept denying them what they wanted. Only your voice and sometimes selfies of the two of you with half your face crossed out would be posted onto his snapchat story, much to the brotherhood's dismay. It wasn't even confirmed that you were his girlfriend, people just assumed or had a feeling. Not even his twitter harem of girls knew who you were and the relationship you had with Calvin, partly because you were always too nervous to be around whenever they had skype conversations. You were pretty different from them.
But today you sat next to him, staring anxiously at the webcam sitting atop his computer. Today, millions of his fans were going to see you. Millions. And you weren't even sure how to act! You hadn't given out any of your social media and reading some of the comments made you feel nervous. A lot of people thought you were cute. Some called you hot, but others thought you were some random ho Calvin was hooking up with. You weren't sure how to feel really.
"Hey guys, welcome back to a brand new video..."
You felt your palms grow sweaty and you kept your hands folded in your lap. He was going to record the voice over before the face reveal, and you felt every part of your body shaking with apprehension. You were so zoned out you hadn't even noticed when he stopped recording.
"[Y/N], don't be nervous."
"W-what?"
You looked up, meeting his brown eyes with a shocked gaze.
"You look like a deer in headlights."
You blinked at him, shaking your head rapidly.
"I just... I just..."
He smiles before sniggering lightly, holding your cheeks in his hands.
"You'll be fine."
And you nodded, bashfully averting your eyes when he pressed a kiss to your nose.
Calvin tinkered a bit more with his computer before motioning to you he was about to start. You sat up straight, fixing your hair one last time before you saw Calvin sat back, the dead fish eyed look back on his face.
"As promised guys, here's the face cam, and here's the girl you've been harassing me about for nearly 6 months."
You smiled awkwardly, waving at the camera shyly. "Hi everyone, I'm [Y/N]..." You murmured, and you could feel Calvin's grin on you as you kept speaking. "Thanks for all the lovely edits of your reptilian mom in a cage, that means the world to me."
Then Calvin is bursting out laughing, his coughing and wheezing following suit and the only thing running through your mind was how petrified and nervous you were. "Cal," you giggled nervously. "...what is it?"
He simply points at your hands, chuckling again.
"What the hell are you doing twiddling your thumbs for? It's like someone is sending you messages in morse code."
"C-Cal!" You gasp, and he laughs again before bringing you in for a tight hug. You begin laughing too, but cover your face in embarrassment. Your cheeks must be completely red at this point, you were sure of it. You were dying from sheepishness and he wasn't making you feel any better. "You're a mumbling mess you know."
You glare at him.
"I can't help it!"
He rolls his eyes and continues speaking, telling the brotherhood how the two of you met. You look at him all the while, giving him a soft smile when he looks over at you midway through his story.
"What?" He asks.
"I'm just trying really hard not to have a nervous breakdown right now."
He presses a kiss to your cheek and it burns a warmth where his lips once were. Once he finishes the story, he presses another kiss but on your lips. Then he leans forward and clicks the stop button on the screen.
* * *
_"Yes guys, she IS my girlfriend, you can follow her on twittter at @leafysreptilianbabymomma and uh yeah. If you enjoyed the vide-"_
"Calvin, really?"
Your only response was a kiss to your lips. |
3668b2099a504a87b3c13eb1a6d3abdb | ['8c6ca15ddd9f4439a38f04418a56fb81'] | When you got home you saw another bouquet of flowers roses red ones of course you knew who it was from that male you rather not speak of him it would just bring you more tears and heart ache mainly because you missed him so much and he left and he deserved so much better than you he gave you his love then he left all of sudden and then you broke down like the person you were you broke down you kept asking questions that had no answers because he wasn’t there to answer them, whenever you would think about him his face never came into your mind just his voice and that sweet smile that he gave you when he was near you and when he held your hand so gently as if he believed he would break you he always treated you like a glass doll you were stronger than that now well you hoped you were anyway but you could tell when it came to him your emotions got out of hand you were never calm or quiet because what you felt for him was a force that made your mind fuzzy and blurry your eyes always watered when you forgot his face but never his voice the smell of roses and violets made you smile and remember when he left you. You’ve waited so long for him to come back but why did he choose to come back now at this time of year? Why did he leave in the first place your then reminisced about the past and how he left you it was a sunny dewy morning when rain came falling down from the clouds above but the sky was a clear blue behind it all and the smell of rain always calmed you down but now it just sent back painful memories to your head you were walking to school with him he was next to you trying to grab your hand out of habit he always liked holding your hand he was calmer when he did hold your hand cause your soft skin soothed him well that’s what he said to you and the smell of them reminded him of happy memories and so you kept using that soap for him just to see that sweet smile on his face again, after you went to class people would tease you and make fun of you then they did the unforgivable and made fun of him your best friend you always told them to back off of him and never tell him anything like that he didn’t deserve it just because he was your friend and yet they continued with their hurtful words
‘’Freak your both freaks, Arthur was attractive at first but as soon as he got with this freak the smell of him was rotten’’ whenever they brought him into the conversation you backed them off he was not their target and he never was when lunch came around you decided to have a talk with him about him being your friend you thought it was best for him to no longer be your best-friend you didn’t want him to be hurt but you were too late he was getting beaten up by the popular kids because of you, you got them off of him and told them to leave him alone cause he isn’t your friend he was just playing a prank on you and was only hanging around you to make you cry and so tears stained your cheeks and the gloss in your eyes left as you looked at him and yelled at him lying of course they looked at Arthur for a split second then directed their attention to you and dragged you off and started to beat you up behind the school of course Arthur just sat there and tried to get up but he was too weak you were sent to hospital for a week and when you came back to school Arthur was student council president he was popular and he seemed happy but behind those ‘happy’ smiles he was depressed and sad because you protected him and made sure his life was happy over your own and during lunch he came to talk to you he dragged you behind the school and looked you in your sorrow filled {EC} eyes and said in his usual kind soft British laced voice ‘’{MN} why did you do that for me? I want to be your best friend; I don’t want to be a popular kid! These people don’t care about me like you do, you are too nice why can’t you for once let other people decide for themselves!’’ you looked at him and smiled softly at him as tears ran down your face and you made sure to hide your arms behind your back while you looked at him and said in your sorrow filled laced voice ‘’I don’t want you to be hurt because of me, I don’t want you to go to hospital because of me! I don’t want people beating you up and hurting you just because you’re my best friend, I swore to myself that I wouldn’t hurt you and because of me you are getting hurt. I care too much about you to allow yourself to let that happen to you again, I’m only going to say this once and never repeat myself. I love you…Arthur…I want you to be happy and live a life full of joy and happiness without me, I don’t want you to be hurt so please refrain from talking to me! Goodbye, Arthur.’’ | 2832223ed5c642aaa170b56d6856889f | ['8c6ca15ddd9f4439a38f04418a56fb81'] | Makoto said he was planning on going to Tokyo and you instantly looked at him and said ''Oh? I was planning on staying here.'' Makoto smiled and nodded as he said ''{Name} Trust me I'll come to visit you whenever and as much as I possibly can when the time comes for me to go to Tokyo.'' you nodded smiling softly you instantly took his hand and said ''Makoto I trust you, I'll also come visit you we can take turns visiting each other.'' Makoto blushed slightly and after finishing your dinner the both of you paid for the tab on the dinner and walked out holding hands once you got near the stairs the both of you looked at the stairs smiling at the stars Makoto then looks down at you and you take this chance to lean up and kiss his lips just softly you then wrap your arms around his neck and break the kiss after a couple of seconds Makoto then looks at you cheeks flushed with red and he smiles dreamily at you and you smile back at him with love clear in your eyes and face Makoto then leaned down and kissed you on the lips back and you instantly kissed him back you then ran your left hand through his hair while you kissed him and when the kiss broke you were both left panting and blushing you then both look away and you then said ''Makoto, be sure to contact me whenever you can while your in Tokyo. I love you, I'll definitely miss you while your in Tokyo.'' Makoto then looked at you and said ''Why don't you come with me to Tokyo?''. You looked at Makoto and said ''Well they do have a college there that I can apply to that has the similar courses to the one here, but that would mean living together are you sure we are ready for that?''
Makoto nods his head and you smile at him and said ''Well I'll need to apply to the college and get a job in Tokyo and we can look at apartments together. Makoto then hugs you tightly and you hug him back after he hugs you he kisses you passionately on the lips and you kiss him back after breaking from each other you go your separate ways and you both organize the things you'll need and when the both of you will be leaving for Tokyo after a couple of months the both of you are living together in Tokyo and so far it was the best decision you've ever made besides telling Makoto how you feel the two of you have been living together for 8 months now and you don't regret the decision a bit and Makoto couldn't agree more the both of you work together and that's the best thing about it and you get to welcome Makoto home whenever you come home before him or you get greeted by Makoto when he comes home before you and it's the best thing ever to get a warm welcome and the smell of food cooking or cooking food for the person you love just to see them smile at you with joy and happiness is the best thing you've felt and done it's the smallest of things that make the both of you happy to be together the laughing and simply just the company and the other one being there is simply the best. With Makoto you are the happiest you've ever been and Makoto is the happiest he's ever been with you the two of you work through things together flaws and all, you wouldn't change anything for the world's largest amount of riches or just for the world in general.
After three years of being together and two years of living together Makoto decides that he wants to take the relationship further and propose to you on the night of your anniversary to make it even more amazing and special for the both of you, it was the night you kissed the night you got together what better way to say he loves you than to propose to you. Makoto has been running this through his head all day and now it was time for the big night and his nerves of course are getting the better of him, he knows the answer will be yes but the only thing that is making him nervous is what if he messes up or miss places the ring or loses it or does something embarrassing or stupid. He'd never forgive himself but letting his nerves get the better of him wasn't going to help him so he took a deep breathe and saw you walking down stairs in a dashing suit that made you look incredibly charming and handsome the more he looked at you the more certain he became about purposing to you tonight, once the two of you left for the restaurant the both of you sat down and made light conversation while discussing what you were going to order after ordering and getting their drinks he looked at you and said ''{Name} you look incredibly gorgeous tonight.'' causing you to blush and smile and him and say ''You look good as well Makoto.'' |
b50ba65cafcc4c349cc42bbe7732d1a8 | ['8c753fcbd05a46c3b006a8d4be61de5d'] |
Love-in-a-mist
Raven skipped through the bookstore’s door, her blonde hair and white skin cascading away to reveal her true shape. A ring from the bell above the door announced her arrival, unnecessarily. “Scott! Alex says to come home.” She called as she breezed through the shop. Raven didn’t feel the need to look around the small space for the teenager; he and his friends where always hiding in some corner. The tall portion of counter in the back groaned when she leaned on it, dropping her bag.
“Don’t yell in the shop, Raven.” Charles didn’t even look up from the paper he was scribbling on. Open books were scattered around him, stacked on one another when he had finished referencing them. Something had gotten Charles into a writing mood; that didn’t happen too often, lately. Raven turned one of the books over in her hands.
“Mutant and Proud: The Mutant Rights Movement from the 1960’s to Today.” She read aloud, already reaching for a paper that had been annotated, “Powerful Psy Mutants: a statistical look at Telepaths and Empaths among different societal classes- wait, _you_ wrote this one! I remember you lecturing me about this for _months_.
“I don’t exactly have every single statistic I’ve ever gathered memorized and at hand,” Charles looked up from his paper at the ceiling, waving the pencil between two of his fingers. His chair creaked a little against its breaks when he leaned back. She noted that they should give them a once over sometime this week. “Raven, what’s a good word for ‘a feeling of separation even within one’s community’? It’s on the tip of my tongue.”
“Ostracisation?”
“Hm. No, that’s not it.” Charles paused for a moment. “I don’t think that’s even technically a word.”
“You could just google it?”
Charles just hummed in response, still staring at the ceiling. Raven sighed and dropped the paper onto one of the stacks. He was impossible when he got like this; hours of Raven’s time had been wasted trying to talk to him when he had an idea. She leaned over the counter - causing it to groan again - and plucked a key from a hook behind Charles. “I’m going upstairs. Don’t forget to come up for dinner.” She didn’t wait for a response, whisking through a back door.
* * *
Isolation. That was the word Charles was looking for. He leaned back over the paper when he felt a nudge at the edge of his consciousness.
Charles kept a passive blanket of awareness over his bookshop. If you were safe - not there to cause trouble - you would skim under it, like a fish under the water. If you were coming in with the intent to hurt anyone or anything, Charles would be able to tell immediately. Anger caused ripples. It was necessary to keep the bookshop a safe place for his clientele - mostly mutant teenagers, gangly and unsure of themselves, university students looking for a rare academic paper that the university library didn’t carry, or the relatives of newly-minted mutants. His shop provided a place for those new to the community; something Charles found sorely lacking on the east side.
This nudge was not anger, but barriers against his telepathy. Charles sat up, watching the stranger. He had the ability to hold passive mental barriers. It was a rare ability in anyone; mutant or otherwise. Charles had only seen it in a handful of people who weren’t telepaths.
The pencil stilled between Charles’ fingers. He wasn’t quite sure what to do in this situation. The man stopped in front of the desk; he looked to be in his thirties, and exhausted.
“Do you happen to have any books on raising mutant children? One of my friends just found out that her daughter is one.”
“Oh, of course! Just a minute.” Charles started moving his books over, revealing a hinged portion of the counter. “Do you know what her powerset is? I can give a more accurate suggestion if so; if not, there’s some general books with advice that carry across. Is your friend a mutant as well?” He started cataloging the potential options that he had in stock. ‘Parenting the Mutant Teen’ was a pretty good starter, and rather generic. It had separate sections on physical, meta-physical, and psychic powers, and was grounded in some well-established research.
“She found out from a genetics test; we don’t know yet. Nadia’s only three.” The man smiled, lips ticking up a little bit. The exhausted look cleared when he smiled - Charles wondered if it was the subject. “Her mother’s not a mutant. Which is why she came to me for advice. Like I know the first thing about children.” An inside joke Charles didn’t get, judging by the tone. “She should really ask my mother.”
“Raising mutant children isn’t really all that different from raising non-mutant children, at the end of the day. Teach them about bodily autonomy and responsibility and most of the pieces fall into place. The hard part is teaching them about how to navigate discrimination.” Charles mused as he considered the book options. He scratched ‘Parenting the Mutant Teen’ from his list as he swung the counter top open and wheeled through it. Maybe ‘So Your Child is a Mutant’? He ran over his stock of parenting books in his head. None of them would work; they were all for older children. He’d have to remember to order some about toddlers and babies. It was so rare for mutations to manifest at that age - but now that genetic tests were in vogue, he should probably keep a stock.
“You look a little young to have kids.” He was examining Charles closely, like trying to puzzle out a mystery. Charles held down a blush. He was unused to the scrutiny. Most of the time when people stared, he redirected their attention; he couldn’t do that with this man. | 6dbd1fe3a6a547a0b9242b2411309e56 | ['8c753fcbd05a46c3b006a8d4be61de5d'] | “Oh, I raised my younger sister for the most part. Our parents were… indisposed most of the time- This is probably the closest thing I have in store that will be any help.” Charles pulled ‘Parenting for the Powerless: How to Raise a Mutant Child’ off of the stack. “It’s aimed a little older than your friend’s child - more around the eight to eleven age range? But it has some good advice that should translate. I could also order a few books in; I’d suggest ‘Tantrums and Teleportation’, it’s perfect for the age range. I can offer a wholesale price on that. It generally takes about four days for ordered books to come in.”
The man took the offered book, flipping through it absently. “Hm. Okay.” He snapped the book shut. “I’ll take both of them.”
He followed Charles back to the counter. Charles shifted the books around the counter, looking for the list that he used to keep track of special orders. The man watched, looking amused at the clutter.
“Do you always work like this?”
Charles could feel his embarrassment glowing in his face. “Only when I’m doing research.” He proffered the list and a pen. “Could you fill out a line on here? I’ll need your phone number to ring when it gets in.”
The man took the list, laying it on the counter to write, but the pen floated out of Charles’ hand. It started filling in the columns. “Couldn’t you get this digitized?” He asked absently. The pen scratched against the paper, a loud sound. Charles refused to stare; it would be rude.
“I suppose, but I’m rather fond of paper.” And so few people ordered books from him. Why would they, when they could just order it on Amazon? Charles didn’t mind this; the bookstore wasn’t how he made his money anyway. Compound interest was his real income.
The pen fell onto the desk, and the man handed him the list. “Whatever works, I suppose. You said you’d call when the book was in?”
“Yes. Should be no more than five days.”
Charles waited until the man was no longer visible through the windows to look down at the list. Erik Lehnsherr.
* * *
Charles woke to an empty apartment. He stretched and pulled himself out of the bed and into his chair. The empty space where Raven’s mind normally hummed told him that she had gone out. The note on the kitchen counter confirmed it. How she managed to go to bed so late and get up so early boggled Charles’ mind. Maybe he was getting old.
The coffee machine sputtered to life, and Charles frowned. He had been meaning to get a new one for a while; perhaps that’s what he could do today. He had been spending most of his free time working on his latest paper - a break would be nice.
He felt tired. But he always felt tired. When was the last time he had felt properly rested? When he was in high school? Eight years of university had stripped him of the ability to sleep at night. He should write a strongly worded letter. Was his doctorate really worth his mental health?
Charles knew that wasn’t the real reason. But thinking about his nightmares made him think of all the times Raven nagged him to go see a therapist. He didn’t need a therapist. Besides, he hadn’t managed to meet one yet who could hide their thoughts; Charles could pick up on them even accidentally.
Maybe it was a ‘House Hunters and delivery sushi’ day, rather than a ‘Fight New York City crowds for a coffee maker’ day. He could watch House Hunters in his boxers. Since it was a Monday, Moria would be at work and Hank would be in the lab. With Raven out of the house, Charles should have the whole day to himself. That tended to be dangerous.
Isolation was dangerous.
Charles took his cup of weak coffee from the coffee maker, frowning as he took a sip. He wondered if he should make more friends. He had come out of his schooling with only two of his friends left. And with Moira busy with her new business and Hank trying to finish his doctorate, he spent most of his days cooped up in his house. When was the last time he had gone out to brunch? The last time he had just wandered through the city? Two, Three years?
He didn’t need a therapist to get that staying in his home all day was probably not healthy. Charles sighed and chugged his coffee. He could go get a new coffee maker and wander around. It was a pleasant spring day, with a gentle breeze floating through the window. There wasn’t any reason not to go out.
An hour later, Charles found himself in front of a tiny store. The sign over it stated that it was ‘Half Baked’. In a bid to get out of the house, Charles had picked a kitchen supply store based on best pun. It made for a short list overall - there needed to be more stores with pun names.
Charles had been imagining two different, entirely unrealistic scenarios on his way over. He had built up either a bustling store with a loud personality ushering people through lines and getting them help finding what they were looking for, or a quiet store with beams of light pouring over the goods and a twenty one year old laboring over a batch of cupcakes, a pile of bills next to them. He was surprised to find something very similar to the second daydream. Quiet, warm, and smelling of baked goods, the store was divided into two sections. Up next to the counter was a small bakery. The rest of the store was made up of four aisles of kitchen utensils. The rows were a bit tighter than Charles preferred, probably due to the fact that it was in an older building, but he found that he could get around fine.
A man came out of the back when he approached the counter, serious and quiet. Charles could sense his stress, but overall he seemed content. He rang Charles up, and held the door for him when he left.
Now where to go? He could try to find a coffee shop, maybe get some work on his article out of the way - but all of his reference materials were at home. He could pick up some lunch, but he wasn’t quite hungry yet.
A breeze ruffled his hair and Charles relaxed a little. Maybe a stroll would be nice. It had been a while.
As Charles roamed the streets, window shopping and people watching, he found himself nostalgic for college. Grabbing brunch at a shitty diner after a night of drinking, camaraderie in his friends’ hangovers. He missed it.
He was lonely.
It wasn’t the first time he had thought it. The feeling niggled at him, always under the surface. It wasn’t as if his friends couldn’t tell. It wasn’t as if Raven couldn’t tell. And Charles wasn’t quite self-delusional enough to deny it. He wanted more friends, more people he felt he could share his life with.
Charles sighed, starting to point himself towards home. Maybe it was a ‘House Hunters and delivery sushi’ day after all. |
424d73d4cef14f7f9b0efb76b93f5346 | ['8c765baead384fedab5023b932e08f17'] | “Wait,” Fon said and they turned to find the Storm’s eyes were narrowed. “Renato said that...Morgana...told him that...she...met you when you were seven.”
Skull blinked, “Yeah. I climbed a tree and fell trying to get down, broke my neck and died which is when I met her- not that I really _ believed _ it, though I just took a nap under the tree and dreamed the entire thing. It wasn’t until I was fourteen and I died in a mugging that I really acknowledged that I met Death- it was hard to dispute when there were holes in my shirt and blood covering me…”
“You got to know each other at fifteen.” Renato said flatly, like a demand.
“Yeah, it’s when I started stunt work- I had a lot of accidents because I was kind of reckless, not that it _ mattered _ since I always came back. It actually became a habit, to have an accident every other month, to meet up with Death again and talk about what’s been going on since we last saw each other- I never knew there were so many natural disasters…” He blinked and added, “That every other month meeting is actually why Anubis showed up like he did...”
Luce looked kind of pained. “You know that it’s not alright to die, right?”
“Why?” Skull wondered, bewildered. “It’s not like it _ sticks _ and I like being able to visit my friend. So it’s okay, right?”
He looked around but they were either blank-faced like Renato or looking like they were in pain like Luce.
Their reactions were _ odd _ , it wasn’t as if he hadn’t _ told _ them he was immortal, obviously he would have known for a reason- but maybe it was because he befriended _ Death _ ? It was a rather unique- and terrifying- thing to do…
.
> **Omake - Representative**
“Who is _ that!? _ ” Skull wasn’t sure who asked that, he was pretty sure it was more then one person, but he knew that it was none of the Arcobaleno whom all suddenly looked rather pale.
Mictlan _ was _ a rather imposing figure of over 200 centimeters in height, wings of bone with metallic feathers attached, pure white eyes to match the hair (which was actually on _ fire _ ), long coat made of the life-leaching fog (killing off the grass and plants that the being walked past), an iconic scythe strapped to the back like a sword and purple veins (“To show my support.”) that stood out vibrantly against the otherwise bone-white skin. That’s to say nothing of the _ armor _ that seemed to be made out of skeletons- some of the _ human _ .
Their holding Skull like a stuffed animal really did nothing to change the fact that Mictlan was intimidating.
**“I,”** Mictlan said, placing him on their shoulder in the same movement they grabbed the scythe to slam the butt to the ground (a wave of death and decay rippled out from it, making everyone else scramble away to keep from being touched though Skull knew it wouldn’t have harmed them beyond aging their clothing). **“Mictlan, the Being known as Death, shall represent the Arcobaleno Skull in this. Which of you shall challenge me?”**
There was only silence (though Skull was pretty sure that Viper was keeping their team from doing anything like Fon- and a blond man- were doing for Hibari).
Skull looked at his fellow Arcobaleno and said, _ “I’m so sorry.” _
3. Chapter 3
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> What You Should Learn From This: I am weak, so very _very_ weak.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> "End" is kind of directly inspired by cosmosqueen: _I'm just imagining the angst if Death can't visit the afterlife and see Skull after he dies._ So be warned I guess.
>
> Also, "Wait" kind of directly follows "End"
> **Omake - Movie**
"This." Mors started, voice filled with a worrying amount of glee.
Skull, who had been dragged away by Hibari to a wreaked motorcycle and told to 'fix it' thus missing their movie night, paused and tried to recall what movie had been playing this time. It was Mukuro who chose, he remembered which meant Bad Things (and various people having nightmares), and it was something called _The Final Destination_.
" _This,_ " Mors said and he was certain she was a second from cackling, "Is a _fantastic_ idea."
Tsuna let out a odd kind of moan-whimper of terror and Reborn didn't scold him which was, well, a pretty good indication on how much of _not_ a 'fantastic' idea whatever 'this' was. So, Skull entered the room (Tsuna and Dino both seemed to be kind of hiding behind Reborn- the former more obvious then the later- who, worryingly, wasn't stopping them as the hitman took aim at Mukuro but pointedly kept Mors in his line of sight) and said, "Mors-"
"Skull," she breathed and, yes, the amount of _awe-excitement-glee_ and _I-will-do-this_ in her voice and basically radiating from her was worrying- he absolutely did not blame that everyone else in the room seemed to be keeping their distance. "I found a new hobby."
That earned another whimper-moan from Tsuna that took on an even more sob-like quality which, well, the Sky whimpered and moaned often enough but sobbing wasn't too common so this new hobby idea- whatever it was- was particularly upsetting. "Mors, _no_."
"Mors," she shot back, " _Yes._ "
They stared at each other, neither wanting to back down.
_[If one were to ask the other occupants in the room what the stare down looked like it would be something like; Cloud Flames lit Skull's eyes, small streams trailing from them like smoke while the Mors eyes went back to their normal pale blue-white coloring with black lightning crackling at the edges.]_
Then Skull sighed, "...pan de muerto."
Because he was not above bribes. | 4fac8b4426244259858308b582c90ce4 | ['8c765baead384fedab5023b932e08f17'] | "I never said that they'd thank you for it," she said, tone wry and he huffed in agreement. "But it's something they needed to hear anyways. Those three keep getting into trouble, and I have a feeling that won't stop next year either, so it's better that someone tries to pound it into their heads that they don't have to do everything alone. Better now when there's a chance of success then later on when it's become a habit, before they get killed because of it."
"I know." He said, sitting up and looking at her - pausing slightly at her brown hair. "I know that but, I'm worried that I've ruined the trust they had in me. That I've only made things worse."
"Could be." Tonks said instead of lying. "And it's really bloody terrible that it fell to _you_ to try and set them straight instead of an actual teacher but we work with what we got. We'll look after them."
Neither of them said anything for a while, both lost in their own thoughts. Charlie didn't know what Tonks was thinking, but he thought about the past year that was far more hectic then he had thought it would be. He thought of his youngest brother and friends getting tangled in with more and more trouble, trouble that didn't seem likely to stop just because the year was over. He thought about his other brothers who might find trouble themselves, about little Ginny who would be starting next year and could go crashing into the same kind of trouble Ron did his first year.
He thought about what Tonks said, about working with what they had and looking after them - and he made a _choice_.
"I'm not going to Romania."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So, Charlie definitely has his own place as seen in the first little word-bit, a bit more about it.... well, it's an apartment that at one point I imagined being located in Devon?
>
> it has a pretty large kitchen for an apartment, but it's a bit less for cooking - though I do see Charlie as being capable of cooking for himself, magically or _not_ \- and more for when Charlie finds the next stray creature in need of assistance. the kitchen functions as a little makeshift infirmary or bath-area as needed, he doesn't tend to keep the strays long but until there is somewhere he can send them then they generally live in that area since it's easier to clean. it's also perpetually stocked with a wide range of odd foods for this reason because Charlie needs to be prepared to feed whatever creature he is bringing home this week
>
> there's only one bedroom but it's decently sized and has several beds in it - charlie's a bunk bed and a couch that can be a bed - for when his siblings stay over. Percy is the one I see staying over the most often, and the twins after that but occasionally I think that Charlie would have all his younger siblings over to let his parents have a night to themselves. a date night if you will
>
> Hermione and Harry came to his apartment once, during the summer before their second year when he was still moving in - they were in fact, with the other Weasleys - kind of shanghaied into helping Charlie move into his apartment
>
> not really related to the apartment, but maybe the kitchen?, is that I see Charlie working at a kind of animal shelter here? magical or not i don't know exactly but he and Tonks definitely meet up every other weekend to talk about being Adults
2. we were never meant to survive
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> "How long?"
>
> Charlie blinked, looked up from the hammer he was debating on to his brother. Ron didn't look at him, looking past him at the clock Bill had made in his last year before graduation - the one with all their names one it.
>
> "What?" He asked.
>
> Ron kept his eyes trained on the clock. "How long will we look before-" the boy's voice wavered and cracked but he went on anyways. "Before we _ stop_?"
>
> _ Before we say they're dead? _ is what was really being asked.
A quiet little _wuff_ sounded, nothing at all like the loud booming barks that the dog was capable of. The noise didn't go far, barely even made it to Charlie's ears not five feet from the animal but it still made him tense and strain his hearing for movement of approaching danger.
"Paddy _shhh_." Harry whispered behind him, likely petting the dog. "No speak."
He almost winced at the added noise but didn't reprimand the child, it wasn't worth it. Not only would that make even _more_ noise but it would also make Harry retreat into himself once again, make the boy go silent and mute like he was when they first found him. Instead of saying anything, Charlie waited and listened carefully for movement before peeking around the corner to check if the coast was clear.
A creaking groan echoed into the silence and he froze, the children behind him stilling as did the dog.
With his head still peeking around the corner, he was able to see when the creature slowly made its way into view at the opposite side of the small, one-way street. He saw how it staggered along, making little creaky groans at the effort, and paused to look down the street towards him. Saw that gaping jaw shudder and snap, head tilting as it listened — it's pale, sightless eyes bore into him. Watching. Waiting for him, or one of his charges, to give themselves away so it could hunt — so it could _ feed_.
A scream sounded, desperate and full of pain, and to the west. |
38bb25ec89b9429ea649f36b77c5cbf7 | ['8c8f534d0b2644bd94528c214943606d'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> The result of me and KraglinObfonteri looking at a photoset and deciding that Kraglin had to be a model in his youth.
For once there was a free hour in the Captain’s busy schedule. Boneless , sprawled on his bed, Yondu flipped the pages on his data- padd , looking through all issues of CosmicCastaway when one picture in particular made him pause.
There, against a grey background was the backside of what he presumed to be a man. He (?) has short hair, earrings that sat neatly at the bottom of his lobes, and had on dark nail polish. But what called to him the most was the smooth curve of the man’s back, visible and clearly defined through a backless shimmering dress.
Yondu’s eyes roved over the smooth skin and the curve of the man’s ass , planted firmly on a white stool . Finally tearing his eyes away from the sight , he looked at the face of the gorgeous being and promptly choked on his own spit .
A few years younger , definitely less scars , and no stubble in sight , but he knew that face . It was Kraglin and he was sure of it .
Not one to waste time , the Ravager grunted as he got out of bed and stalked towards his Second’s quarters . Getting there in record time he pounded on the door .
Kraglin looked annoyed as he opened the door and saw Yondu . -How may I help ya , Captain.- He crossed his arms.
- Kraglin ! - Cheerfully smirked the Captain, as he slung an arm across the other man’s shoulders pulling him in. - Now why didn’t you ever tell me you were a part of a successful business, hmm?
-What are ya talkin ’ ‘bout? What business?- Kraglin asked, looking up at Yondu , very confused. -Are you feelin ’ okay, sir?-
Yondu grinned as he pulled the padd closer and opened it at the desired page.
-I’m talking about this gem of bonna - fied photography . \- He showed the monitor to his rapidly paling crewmember
-WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GET THAT!?!- Kraglin tried to take the pad from the captain, but was failing. -GIVE IT TO ME! PLEASE! BEFORE ANYONE SEES!-
The older man chuckled.
- Hoo , now you’re smarter then that, luv- droned he, keeping the padd above his head and out of the other’s reach. - You’re well aware that nothing on this ship is free. I don’t show this to the crew, and what do I get?
-I won’t punch you in your face!- Kraglin tried to reach above Yondu , leaning against his body. -I thought all of these were gone.- He muttered to himself. -Captain, please for me, just give it! I’ll do anythin ’!-
Yondu just kept grinning as he wound the hand not holding his trophy over his head around the other man and pulled him closer. Leaning to breath in Kraglin’s ear, he whispered,
-Anything, huh?-
Kraglin nodded. Biting his bottom lip as he shivered from the warm breath against his neck. -Almost anything, my Captain. But we’ll see, what’cha have in mind, sir?-
-Have dinner with me.- Promptly stated Yondu as he pulled completely away from his captive. With a serious face he continued. - Tomorrow, when we dock at Kryolon .
-But don’t we kinda have dinner every night?- Kraglin asked, crossing his arms, and tilting his head.
-Don’t be dumb, boy- Yondu shook his head. - This will be different. You’ll have to dress up a bit, too.
Kraglin looked at the captain with slight suspicion, -How much is a bit, sir?-
-Don’t be afraid to wear something real pretty- Smirked Yondu as he stalked away. - I’ll comm you to get down tomorrow evening, be ready.
Kraglin watched as his captain left. He shut the door, letting Yondu’s words sink in, as he walked around his room, before suddenly stopping.
-Don’t be afraid to wear….. Oh my stars he wants me to wear a dress!-
Yondu made calls, he arranged for transportation, and even got a little something that allowed him to blend in with the locals better. A quick injection spread countless nanobots through his system, covering him in a thin but sturdy projection.
When Kraglin came down to the flight module that was to take them planetside he was greeted by a very different looking Yondu .
Kraglin smiled at Yondu , in a bit of shock. -Captain? You look…you look different, very handsome.-
Yondu put down the tumbler and stood up, raving his eyes over the lean form of his Second.
- You still had the dress then ,- Murmured the older man as he stepped closer .-I ain’t ever seen you look so beautiful.-
Coming to a stop by Kraglin , the Centaurian reached his hand and pulled something from the shelf next to the module’s door. Quickly, he put the object behind Kraglin’s ear.
-To match your eyes…-
Kraglin smiled as he blushed, looking down. -Thank ya , Captain.-
The two sat down as the doors shut, and Yondu spend the whole trip practically eating Kraglin up with his eyes. He always knew his Second was a handsome man, and in this attire his ever-present grace had a chanc e to shine out brighter, brought out by the figure-hugging dress.
Soon the ship descended, and Yondu got up first. Opening the door he glanced at the rising man and offered his arm.
-I called ahead .-
2. Chapter 2
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> A sappy, romantic, cute, adorable chapter IMHO
Kraglin smiled and took Yondu's hand,
-Wow, Captain, ya really thought this through.- | aa9c13be929f4c6f97026b4cddff0cbc | ['8c8f534d0b2644bd94528c214943606d'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> Wasn't planned as a fic, but developed quickly.
-Stop it, you're hurting me! - Cried out Peter as he was dragged through the hallway by the tall man.
-Then stop your whining, brat! - Snapped Kraglin .
-But I’m reaaly hungery , and the Captain said you had to feed me- cried out Peter
Kraglin let go of Peter and crossed his arms,
-Ugh, fine! - He glared. - No one can do anything by themselves around here!-
Peter cringed as he tried to stay a little to the side of the bigger man. His arm was hurting, and he didn’t want to be next to him, but he also hadn’t eaten for almost two days.
- I’m s-sorry…- Mumbled the child
- It’s fine.- Kraglin said, sternly, not even bothering to look at the child.
The Terran trailed after the tall man that was supposed to take care of him.
- _Maybe if I behave, he’ll like me?_ - Though he
When Kraglin and the boy enter the ‘kitchen’, he turned sharply to Peter.
-What would ya like? A sandwich or something?-
Startled , Peter fumbled with his answer.
-U- um..
-1….2..- He crossed his arms and tapped his foot.
- Sandwich please! - Squeeked Peter
Kraglin rolled his eyes and went into the icebox,
- Zelcian meat or Draian ? Uh, ham or turkey?-
Having learned his lesson fast, the boy answered right away.
- Ham, please… sir-
Kraglin pulled out the ‘ham’ fridge as well as some cheese, and bread from the cabinet. He quickly put it together on a plate and handed it to the child.
-Here. And don’t call me sir. Captain Yondu is sir.-
- What should I call you then- Asked Peter
- Just Kraglin . I have no real title.- He shrugged.
- Ok Mr. Kaglin -agreed Peter
- Now is food are you require?-
The kid nodded frantically
Kraglin smiled,
-Good. Hurry up and eat. I have to go back to Captain Yondu and help with some things.-
- What do I do?- Asked the boy
- You can just come with me. If you stay out of our way. Alright?-
- Alright, Mr. Kraglin \- nodded the boy
- Well come on then.- Said Kraglin , exiting the kitchen, heading to the navigation room.
Peter obidiently trotted along. Unfortunately for the 6 year old he had little legs that could not match the older man’s pace. Coupled with untied shoelaces it was no wonder that a minute into the hurried half jog he was attempting, little Quill ended up sprawled all over the floor, nose red and bloody from the impact.
Kraglin heard a ‘thud’ and turned and saw the boy on the ground, his nose bleeding. He sighed and knelt before him, pulling him up.
-Now look what you did!- He touch Peter’s nose, but stopped when the boy grimaced. He wiped the boys blood off his fingers and took off his scrap of cloth scarf and held it to the boy’s bloody nose. -Use this and hurry up.- He stood and continued walked.
Peter sniffed and tried to hold his tears in. Bunching up the cloth he shoved it in his nose and tried to run after the man He stumble a few times but stubbornly held his balance. Finally they arrived.
- Captain? I’m here, and so is the kid.- Called out Kraglin as he opened the door and walked in.
- What’d ju bring him here for, idjit ?- Grunted the Centaurian as he sprawled on his chair. -I said feed him, not bring him in.
Rolling his eyes, Kraglin walked forward towards Yondu ,
-Cause, I didn’t know what else to do with him. Kinda wish I hadn’t. He broke his damn nose.
Peter observed the happening as he tried to seem as small as possible in the corn er by the door, frantically thinking of ways to not get hit again. While Mr. Kraglin hasn’t done much to him yet, the rest of the crew was even less welcoming. There was one guy with blue hair that already bit him on the leg.
- Come on.- Kraglin motioned for Peter to stand beside him, before turning to Yondu , -I told him to behave, so can he stay, sir?-
The Ravager took a look at the cargo standing by his chair with what looked like a piece of Kraglin’s scarf stuck in his bloody nose and skinned knees. He made a pretty pathetic picture, but the Centaurian didn’t really care too much.
- Fine, - he said - Look after him yourself then
Kraglin nodded,
-Yes’ sir, I will. So why did you have planned for today, Captain?- Kraglin asked, looking over the charts in front of him, while also glancing down at Peter every once and awhile.
As the two adults seem to dive deep into discussion about things Peter did not understand or know about, he decided to brave a look around. Sniffling , and pulling the hanky out of his nose, he stuck it in his pocket. His fingers lightly stroked the material. This was really the first nice thing anyone on this ship has done for him, and Peter was grateful. Sitting down on one of the free chairs, he leaned his head against the handrest and closed his eyes.
This was an extremely tiring day for the 6 year old, and all he really wanted was to curl up in his bed and go to sleep. Unfortunately from what he understood, his bed was very far away now. So he just settled in the uncomfortable chair and didn’t notice falling asleep.
He did not anticipate being woken up by an explosion.
- Peter!? Where the hell are you!?- Yelled out Kraglin as he looked around for the kid. -Captain, what the fuck is goin ’ on!?-
The Centaurian picked himself up from the floor and ran to the console. |
3d97b68c7fd949cf8ee5c61fd2af6cf1 | ['8c9c60c04981461aabc050bbae9f8271'] | “Rachel...we need to talk,” Santana mumbles. She sits on the couch, her hands fidgeting in her lap. Rachel, who’s only just walked through the door, looks befuddled. She sits down on the couch next to her, her eyes glazed with concern, and she puts her hand on Santana’s shoulder.
“Sure...what about?” Rachel mutters, almost in a whisper. Santana pulls her arm away and turns to look at her, confused, angry.
“What _about_? Berry, we _kissed_. And you ran away from me.” Rachel gives her a look of surprise, but Santana continues. “I know you were drunk, and I know I was semi-drunk, but I _was_ under the impression that that kiss was something that you don’t forget.” Santana swallows hard. “I didn’t forget it anyway. Even if you did.” Rachel bites her lip.
“I’m sorry, ‘Tana...I...I wish I could remember, but I really don’t,” she whispers. “I...I don’t know why I did that. I shouldn’t’ve. You’re still hurting over Brittany. And I’m still...well, I’m pretending not to be hurt over Finn, but my heart still aches every night.” Rachel sighs. “If I kissed you, it was a mistake.”
Santana feels a pang in her heart, and she’s not exactly sure why. It’s not as if she _likes_ Rachel in that way--it’s not as if she’s in _love_. But it hurts. The words still sting.
“Yeah, okay,” Santana says, looking away. “I mean, it’s not as if I was--I just thought it was strange we weren’t acknowledging it. I didn’t think it was--I was just asking or whatever.” Her voice picks up a slight attitude along the way, a defense mechanism, the only way she can conceal her slight (and if it’s more than slight, she won’t admit it) disappointment.
Rachel sighs, looking at Santana with heavy eyes. “I do love you--as a friend. You’re my best friend.” The words, which are meant to comfort, seem hollow. It’s almost as if Rachel’s trying to let her down easily.
“I’m not fragile, Berry,” she spits out. “I didn’t think it meant anything. You’re my best friend, too, but I’ve heard Katy Perry, I know these things happen. So stop trying to console me, okay?” Rachel nods, speechless, shocked at the outburst. “I--I have a gig tonight, so I’m going to--I’ve got to get ready.”
Rachel can see the kiss meant something to her, but she simply brushes it off as lingering feelings for Brittany, feelings that the kiss brought up.
She wishes desperately she could remember it.
***
Santana fucks some girl the next night. Rachel never sees her face, but she can hear the moans through the wall; she thinks of Daisy, of the reason she moved into this apartment in the first place, and she buries her face into her pillow. She’s not sure why, but there’s a part of her heart that aches when she hears the groans, the whimpers through the wall.
For a brief moment, she wonders what it would be like to be the one buried between Santana’s legs, and her cheeks flush. She resolves not to think of the image again--she doesn’t like her roommate like that.
And yet, she can’t help but think, again and again, what her lips must’ve felt like against Santana’s on New Year’s Eve.
***
Santana finds herself thinking more and more about her best friend; it’s what leads her to the daily one-night-stands with less-than-gorgeous girls who are more interested in experimenting than a relationship. And Santana is perfectly fine with being their little experiment--it’s college for them, and it’s a distraction for her. Banging some chick stops her from thinking about Rachel’s voice, her soft skin, the taste of her vanilla lip gloss.
They’re best friends; they’re never going to be more than that. That’s what Santana tells herself everyday, when she imagines what life _could_ be like if Rachel were hers.
When she finds herself kissing the thighs of some blonde bimbo, whose name she can’t remember, she pretends it’s Rachel for a just a moment, imagines her thighs instead of this foreign girl’s, and smiles.
***
Three weeks later, Rachel’s at a bar with her friends. It’s a piano bar, one of the hipper ones nearby NYADA, and she’s with a group of friends from her musical theater class. She drinks a couple of wine coolers her older friends hand her (to them, the stamp on her hand that marks her youth means nothing). She’s a little tipsy, but she’s aware of herself, of her movements and of her body, and she decides, maybe she’ll be like one of those college girls who Santana’s going home with. One of those girls who experiments. She can hear the performer in the background, smoothly belting out the lyrics to a song she can’t pinpoint--and the voice sounds familiar, but her mind is foggy and she can’t--she’s just _tipsy_ she tells herself and one kiss won’t hurt.
She finds a girl, chats her up, and soon after, they’re making out. Her name’s Rose or Lavender--something flowery, she remembers that--and slowly the girl’s small hand sneaks up and squeezes her breast gently, in the middle of the bar, and Rachel pulls away, wiping at her mouth. Tears slide down her face as she realizes that it’s not kissing a girl that’s upsetting her, it’s that she’s not kissing the right girl.
She runs through the tables and passes the stage on her way out, on her way to the closest exit, and in the corner of her eye, she sees Santana, the performer whose sultry voice inspired her to test her sexuality. Maybe it was her subconscious, maybe it was her voice that led her to her discovery that gender isn’t so black and white. She thinks that maybe Santana knows that more than anyone. | 8f54a03f0dbb40039c156fba3804d459 | ['8c9c60c04981461aabc050bbae9f8271'] | “Yes, of course,” Rachel says with a small smile. “Let’s head to the choir room; it should be empty.” Santana nods, and Rachel leads the way. They’re silent, even when they sit down in the familiar maroon chairs. Eventually, Santana starts to talk.
“Look, I know we’re not close, and I know I was horrible to you for years, but you offered to help, and I kind of really need it,” she says, swallowing hard, not looking at Rachel. “I can’t go to Brittany, because even though she’s my best friend, she’s also my girlfriend, and she’s who I’m having issues with, and, well, Quinn and I have had an even worse relationship than you and I over the years, and...god, I just...” She starts crying, and Rachel realizes that this is the most vulnerable she has ever seen her. Rachel puts her hand on her knee and whispers.
“It’s okay, Santana, I’m listening.” Santana looks up at her, wiping at her face, drying her eyes.
“I...I just need a friend...” she says. “Things with Brittany are hard. We’re not kids anymore. I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t know how much longer I can pretend that her cat has human characteristics and I really don’t know if I have the heart to tell her that crayon is not an acceptable writing utensil when taking a test.”
Rachel squeezes her knee, and Santana bites her lip. “And now I’m fucking divulging my sob story to a girl that I made fun of since we were six and you wore that stupid sweater with that fugly horse or whatever. What the fuck am I doing.” The last sentence isn’t a question, but more of a statement, and Rachel isn’t exactly sure of what to say.
“I think...I think you need to do what’s in your heart,” Rachel says softly. She realizes she’s not only talking to Santana, but herself. It’s hypocritical, she thinks, because what your heart wants isn’t always that easy to figure out.
“Thanks, Miley, but this isn’t a fucking fairy tale. My heart doesn’t know what the fuck it wants.” And there it was.
“I know,” she mutters. “But it’s there, somewhere, and I think you have to take some time and dig down deep to find what it is.” She sighs. “And there’s no rush,” she says, repeating the lines Kurt told her. “Maybe you and Brittany won’t be together forever, but that doesn’t mean you have to break up with her now. Figure out if she’s who you want to spend the rest of your life with.” She smiles at her, and Santana nods.
“Yeah,” she whispers. “I guess.” The room is quiet. “You know, you don’t look so pleased with Man Boobs, either,” she says after a while. Rachel blushes, and then shakes her head.
“Yes, well, my heart doesn’t know what it wants, either,” she says, frowning. Santana wipes away her tears, and then looks at Rachel.
“Do you want to talk about it? The least I can do is return the favor,” Santana says. “Even if your problem is that Finn’s a premature ejaculator with overly large nipples--and we both know that’s true.” Rachel scoffs, but doesn’t say anything.
“Can I ask you a question?” she asks, and Santana nods, still sniffling.
“Go ahead, Berry, I’m all yours.”
“How did you know you were...you know...a lesbian?” Rachel asks hesitantly. Santana looks at her, her brow furrowed, and she tilts her head slightly.
“Why does it matter? It is what it is,” she says simply. Rachel looks down at her hands, and then back up at Santana. “Sometimes there is no tangible answer.”
Rachel can sort of understand that (even if she wishes Santana could have given her something more).
+
“Do you know what song you’re going to do?” Finn asks her one day, while they lay on her bed, her head resting against his chest.
“Not yet,” she says. In all honesty, she didn’t even begin to look for a song that would represent her current struggles; she was too _involved_ in them to bother with finding one. “Do you have one?” she asks, turning to face him. He gives her a smile.
“Yeah, but it’s a surprise,” he says with a wide smile. “It’s for you.” She smiles weakly, and fakes excitement.
“I’m sure it’ll be wonderful,” she whispers. Feeling guilty, she lifts her head up and kisses him softly on the lips, and lets him cup her breast under her shirt.
(In reality, she imagines it’s Santana doing the groping, and suddenly, she doesn’t feel so violated.)
3. part two; changes
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Changes happen, none of which Rachel's too sure she's ready for.
When Santana and Brittany split, it’s a huge deal. Rachel’s never seen the school in such disarray--cheerleaders crying, Glee members performing break-up songs at a number of candlelight vigils, and even Figgins admits to Santana that he’s prayed for her and Brittany to get back together. It’s insane, and Rachel can’t help but let her jaw hang at the social chaos that this very personal and intimate event causes the entire school. The blogger-sphere seems to be crushed, according to the pages Sam’s printed and passed around, and Rachel isn’t sure when the two girls became such a symbol for gay pride. Her heart aches for Santana, who she sees dragging her feet to every class, but she doesn’t say anything. Not yet. She’s not sure what would mend her broken heart, or if there’s anything that could, really, and she doesn’t want to hurt her even more. She knows Santana, and she knows she needs time to digest--that’s just her style. So she leaves her alone.
(It does occur to her, however, that the two people who she could potentially make out with are currently single--but she berates herself for even thinking that, considering the heartbreak they’re going through.) |
8c58fee391d14f2d9374f84106c60967 | ['8cc38aaff14a4669a62c4c37864e600e'] | He laughed and talked as he ate, surrounded by his team and his friends, his daughter moving between her carrier on his chest and the arms of one person after another taking turns to hold, feed, burp and in V and Catherine’s case to change nappies because they really were good friends and Sid wasn’t going to turn down help with two of what might be thousands of nappies he’d change in the next three years but as the sun began to go down and people filtered home he was struck by a sudden realisation that this time, for the first time, when all the team had gone, when they’d taken their coats and shoes, their kids, their noise and all the things that they normally brought to his house for team parties, this time for the very first time, they wouldn’t be leaving him all alone.
3. Chapter 3
“I know it’s early,” Sid grinned at Sophie as she opened her eyes, “I won’t be long,” he drew a deep breath and took his hand from the handle bars of the stationary bike to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “I just need two more miles baby then I’ll do your milk, I promise.”
Sophie stretched and squirmed against the floor and shut her eyes again and Sid focused on the bike trying to finish his pre-skate workout in record time.
By the time Sophie opened her eyes again Sid had completed his cardio and his weights so he scooped her up off the floor and snuggled her under his chin, “I’ve got you now beautiful, lets get that tummy filled up before everyone arrives shall we?”
Sophie coughed and whimpered against his chest as he fiddled, one handed, with the top of a bottle trying to open it so that he could fill it with the carton of ready-made formula he’s brought with him.
“Sorry, I’m not good at this yet sweetheart,” he whispered, trying to sooth her, “I’ll get better with practice, I promise.”
“He practice lots, till be perfect” Geno’s voice startled Sid and he dropped the still capped bottle on the floor. “I get.” He leaned down to pick it up, “Sorry I scare.”
“Just wasn’t expecting you yet,” Sid smiled, bouncing Sophie against his chest as her whimpers turned into more of a cry, “You’re not normally in by now.”
“I think you come early, before people might see, train while baby sleep, so I come see if can help.”
“That’s sweet,” Sid said and the looked away, cheeks warming uncomfortably, “I mean, thanks.”
“No thank,” Geno had the bottle filled with milk and the rest of the carton in the fridge before Sid even noticed. “Feed baby,” He smiled as he handed over the bottle, “feed in gym? I do weights?”
“For sure,” Sid nodded and followed Geno down the corridor to the gym where he sat down on one of the benches while Geno laid himself out on the other, breathing deeply as he completed his first set.
“This your weight?”
“Yeah, sorry, I got distracted.”
“No sorry, is good weight.” He grinned, eyes bright as her lifted the bar from the rack to begin a second set as Sid settled Sophie in his arms and gave her her bottle. “She sleep?” he asked between lifts.
“A bit, I fed her after everyone went home and then we went to bed, she woke once and went back down ok but when she woke again I thought we might as well come in, we’ll nap later hopefully, not like afternoon naps aren’t a thing I’m used to.” He laughed and Geno joined him as he sat up on the bench and moved to do some work on his legs.
“We already sleep like babies, she fit in well.”
“Nathalie says hers slept a lot the first forty eight hours as if they were tired from the birth but it didn’t last so I’m not hopeful.”
“We make work,” Geno said with certainty as he worked on his quads and then stuttered, “I mean, you make work, know you can.”
“Thanks G,” Sid looked away from where Geno was still working up a sweat and down at Sophie who was making her way through her bottle, her eyes now closed, “it means a lot, that you think I can.”
“Know you can.” Geno asserted mid rep, “Help if want but know you do good.”
Geno had completed his full weight set and a couple of miles warm up on the bike by the time Sophie was finished so they made their way back to the locker room, hiding the bottle in the baby bag and the bag in the trunk her car seat, bouncy chair and wrap were going to hide in around the arena and then they walked up the stairs to the video room, hearing the noise and chatter of their teammates increase as they approached.
“We thought you were going to be late.” Neal shouted as they came through the door, “Didn’t see you come in.”
“We’ve been here a few hours,” Sid rubbed Sophie’s back as she rested upright against his chest, “Got to fit my training around this little lady now.” Sophie burped at that as if on purpose and some of the guys laughed while others just looked at him confused.
“You’ve been training?” Orpik asked
“Yeah,”
“She’s not two days old!”
Sid tried not to show his confusion at the statement; Sophie’s age didn’t really seem relevant to the fact that it was a game day tomorrow. “She had me up at five and who’s around at five to see us come in?” He shrugged, “made sense to make use of the time.”
“Makes sense to me.” Tanger clapped Sid on the shoulder and winked at him as he walked past to take his seat, “Coach is on his way up.” | 4fe00543c40348d3858a6a1685846ac0 | ['8cc38aaff14a4669a62c4c37864e600e'] | Alexei nodded and swiped his tongue slowly across his lower lip, the cheekiness earning him a light slap on the cheek, before Bitty turned away and settled himself back over Alexei’s face and wriggling even closer when he felt the hard tip of a warm, wet tongue swirling around the tight muscle of his hole and pushing its way inside.
Fresh moisturiser on his hands Bitty rested his fingers either side of Alexie’s belly button and ran them gently down either side of his torso, expertly avoiding any contact with his cock which was now sitting, half hard, against his stomach. As he leaned forward to roll Alexei’s balls between his hands he lifted his arse from his face and he couldn’t stifle the gasp of surprise that escaped him when Alexei lifted his head to chase the contact and his tongue continued to massage and tickle his hole.
“What a good boy you are sweetie,” Bitty rocked his hips backward and forward just an inch, laying his hands over the strong muscles of Alexei’s abs that were working hard to hold him up and maintain the contact and then, just as he sat back, pushing back into Alexie’s face and feeling his tongue dip deeper and his lips move against the slowly relaxing muscles, he ran his hand in one firm stroke along the length of his cock, root to tip, running his thumb twice around the head and revelling in the feel of Alexei’s gasped breath against his spit wet hole.
He repeated the action twice, watching as the head of his cock became wet, pre come starting to pool in the slit and drip against his stomach and then he went back to massaging and tickling Alexei’s torso, squirming and laughing at the effects his actions were having on the workings of Alexei’s tongue, which was now dipping firmly in an out of his body, deep enough to feel teeth scrape over his skin.
The timer beeped with a two minute warning and Bitty leaned all the way forwards, firmly stroking Alexei’s cock twice and then running his hand down over his balls before picking up the ring at the end of the nipple and cock harness, making sure to pull just slightly at the nipple clamps as he unlocked the ring and then wrapped the metal firmly around the base of Alexei’s cock and balls and clipping it shut.
Alexei gasped loudly at the tightness around his cock and the pull on his nipples and Bitty pushed himself backwards, sitting himself right back on Alexei’s face, feeling his nose pressed hard between his cheeks and his tongue try to get back to work. “I said I didn’t want to hear from you!”
Alexei’s tongue moved against him trying for coordination and seeking the warmth of his body but after a few moments his legs began to shake, his head twisted back against the pillow and his chest started to heave as he tried desperately to pull in air through whatever tiny space he could find between Bitty’s body and his nose and mouth but Bitty kept all his focus on tracing soothing circles around his nipples and watching Alexei’s hand against the bed as he counted down the seconds to the bell and at no point did he make any attempt to tap out so Bitty stayed exactly where he was.
The alarm rang loudly and Bitty instantly lifted himself to his knees, swinging his leg over Alexei so he offered no restriction of movement or breathing, and knelt next to him, watching as Alexei lifted his head and gasped a few breaths and then settled his head back, breathing slowing and, almost, rolling onto his side towards Bitty but he stopped the movement, clearly remembering that he didn’t have permission to move.
“Hey sweetie,” Bitty reached for his left hand that was still on the pillow above his head and brought it down to his side where he tangled their fingers together and held them tightly, “You did so well for me. So good, so special.”
Alexei smiled just a little, his eyes glassy and his body relaxed, despite the harness, and Bitty kissed him gently on the forehead and then leaned past him to grab one of the bottles of water from the bedside table.
“Sit up and drink this Sweetie,” he held the bottle to his lips and Alexei drank a few mouthfuls before collapsing back on the bed and looking expectantly at Bitty who watched him for a moment and then winked as he tipped a dribble of cold water onto Alexei’s sternum and, using a tissue from the bedside table, wiped the 17 that Alexei had written earlier, from his chest. “How many more of these did you write?”
“Two Sir,” Alexei grinned and Bitty knocked it from his face with a hard slap on his cheek and a sharp tug in the harness.
“You better reset the timer then.”
As much as Alexei loved the whole body sensation of the tingle of the tea tree on his skin there was only so much of it Bitty could handle on his hands so, having given Alexei clear instructions not to move a muscle, he took himself off to the bathroom to wash his hands. While the water heated Bitty took a second to run his mind over the last few minutes.
Breath play was so intense, Alexei loved it in the same way that he himself loved being tied and bound and therefore it was something Bitty enjoyed employing in their play but the power and intensity of it meant he always had to escape for a few moments after, something he thought might actually be a good thing, a true desire to smother the life out of someone was not really something he ever wanted to feel.
“Now.” having collected himself Bitty strode back into the bedroom, shoulders squared and eyes focused. “Is that timer ready?” |
8215ba1c435a4719bed3278a195e8c15 | ['8cc69e4f6ce642c494027fc531fa2f99'] | Carmilla nods her head in understanding. “Okay, got it. Don’t worry, we’ll find her,” she says, giving a promising look to Perry to ensure the girl that she means it. “Just keep an eye on Laura for me, will you? There’s a very likely chance she’ll do something idiotic with that much alcohol in her.” Perry nods and the girls split up.
After years and years of tracking girls down and, put bluntly, stalking them. It takes Carmilla no time to find LaFontaine on the balcony of their dorm room, bottle in hand.
Carmilla sighs and walks over to her slowly. Comforting people has never really been her forte.
“Uh, hey,” she says, not wanting to startle them.
LaFontaine turns around, taking another swing of the alcohol that Carmilla can’t clearly make out. “Oh, hey, vamp,” she mumbles, swallowing a mouthful of the crude liquid. They stumble slightly and Carmilla’s quick to run over to them, catching them before they fall off the balcony.
“Trying to get out like Sarah-Jane?” she asks, quirking a brow as she steadies the clearly upset teen.
LaFontaine frowns. “Dude, too soon,” they say, bringing the bottle up for another drink.
The vampire intercepts it and takes the bottle, setting it on the crappy table beside them. “Alright, that’s enough of that,” she says, wiping her hands together, trying to figure out what to say. “So! Uh, Perry’s pretty worried so we should get back to the party,” she says, turning to lead the way out.
And, of course, LaFontaine stays put.
“I can’t go back down there,” they say, slumping against the railing on the balcony and sliding down.
Carmilla sighs. Why are things never easy for her?
“Hey…” she starts, walking back to them and squatting down. “You don’t have to listen to them, you know? They’re a bunch of idiot ne'er-do-wells that are going absolutely nowhere in life except the local brothel.” LaFontaine chuckles. “Look, people are assholes. Believe me; I’ve had to deal with a lot of them. But, point is, you can’t let all the shit they say bother you. I know it’s hard with, whatever you got going on, but you’re better than they are.” Carmilla’s really hoping her words are working because she doesn’t know how much nice she has left in her before she pukes.
LaFontaine does nothing but slump still. Carmilla sighs.
“Alright. Tried doing it Pixie Mom’s way, clearly not working. So we’re doing things my way. Stand up.” Carmilla stands and watches LaFontaine slowly follow her. “You’re going to tell me who the complete asshole who messed with you is so I can have a nice little _talk_ with them.”
_____________
After fifteen minutes of wandering around the party looking for the asshole who misgendered LaFontaine, — because, of course, they couldn’t remember their name, — they finally run into him.
“Why am I not surprised?” Carmilla asks rhetorically as they step up to Eric, best friend to Will.
Carmilla taps him on the shoulder and he turns around, smirking.
“Hey hottie, wanna dance?” he asks, shimming towards her while doing some weird pelvic thrust and Carmilla has to stop herself from gagging.
“Not if you were the last man on Earth and I had to choose between that, or scooping my eyes out with forks.” She rolls her eyes. “Look, I’m not here to dance, alright? I’m here because you were a complete asshole and jerkoff to my friend here, and you’re going to apologize or I’m going to _make_ you sorry.”
Eric looks to LaFontaine for a moment confused before smiling and laughing. “Oh yeah! I remember you! The girl that dresses like a butch lesbo! Yeah, yeah. You know, just ‘cause you dress like a guy, doesn’t mean you are one. Like, you still got a pussy and shit. You should jus’ dress like a girl, dudes don’t like manly hotties.”
LaFontaine visibly tenses. Carmilla loses her patience.
Eric turns to go back to his friends, but before he can, Carmilla winds up and hits him in the jaw. She wastes no time in kicking his _no-no_ area before finishing him off with a blow to the back of the knees.
“And if you _ever_ insult _any_ of my friends _ever_ again, I won’t go so easy on you next time,” Carmilla says with a snarky tone before she grabs LaFontaine’s hand and leads them away.
They’re a good distance away from the scene of the crime before they stop. Carmilla seriously needs a drink.
She grabs what seems to be an ordinary and not drugged beer and chugs the other thing before turning back to LaFontaine.
“C’mon, we should probably find Laura and Perry. Laura’s wasted and I don’t know how much longer Perry can stand being here before she kicks everyone out to start cleaning up the mess,” Carmilla says, beginning to walk away before she’s stopped by a hand on her wrist.
The vampire turns around and looks at LaFontaine, an eyebrow perked.
“I, uh… I just wanted to say thanks, for what you did. Not everyone would stand up for me like that. I mean, Perr would, but she’s not too scary like you,” LaFontaine says, perking up slightly at her own mention of her best friend. “So I uh, just… Thanks. _Friend_.”
Carmilla makes a fake disgusting face. “Friends? Who the hell said we were friends?” she asks, smirking.
“You did,” LaFontaine says. “You told that guy if he ever messed with one of your _friends_ , you’d kill them. Which I’m pretty sure Perr would kill _you_ over, but still.”
“I didn’t mean it literally,” Carmilla says defensively. “Jeez, can’t a girl threaten someone without being threatened herself?”
The two keep eye contact for a moment before Carmilla sighs.
“Okay, okay, yeah, I said we’re friends. Whatever, it’s not a big deal,” she says nonchalantly. “Now let’s go.” | 6b3ab9097a524efbb14da7dbf0c90f97 | ['8cc69e4f6ce642c494027fc531fa2f99'] | "I swear to God the next time someone comes through that door without knocking, they’re dead," Carmilla says, her hold on Danny’s arm getting tighter.
"Hey, hey, hey, okay. Whoa, Carm-sexy, chill," Kirsch says, holding his hands up as he walks towards the girls. "I don’t want no trouble. I came in here looking for Laura, but… I’m gonna have to interrupt…whatever’s going on here, since, I mean. Babes shouldn’t fight. But if you must, I got a kiddie pool and some chocolate sauce in my dorm so if you girls wanted to continue this little dispute there…" he trails off, pointing his thumbs through the open door.
Both the girls groan.
"Are you really trying to pick us up right now?" Danny asks through gritted teeth, the pressure on her arm still very evident.
Carmilla rolls her eyes. “And seriously, you think a pathetic excuse for a pick up like that would win us two over? You’re just a tall little boy with the mindset of as horny teenager. I don’t know ‘bout Xenia over here, but I’m not about to waltz myself over to your room so you can work your “magic” on us,” she spits.
"Hey, bro, c’mon. I didn’t mean it like that, I just –"
"And another thing," Danny interrupts. "There’s no way in hell I’d ever put out like that for someone as immature and sexist as you are. Seriously, you’re a pig, _bro_.”
Kirsch shifts uncomfortably, biting his bottom lip. “I was just offering. Two hot chicks like yourselves deserve an equally hot guy as me,” he says, causing Danny and Carmilla to both groan again at what he thinks is an actual apology.
"That’s not a compliment, Kirsch," Danny says angrily. "And you wonder why you can’t actually get any girls."
The vampire nods. “For once, I actually agree with the ginger over here. You’re a disgusting, sexist pig. God help any girl who sees anything in you. Now, can you please get the hell out of here? I’m seriously going to puke if I have to stand here and listen to another idiotic and immature comment come out of that giant hole you call a mouth.” Carmilla says, her eyes piercing like daggers
Kirsch awkwardly stands still before he lets out a frustrated breath and says, “You girls aren’t even that hot anyways,” and bolts out of the room.
The second the door closes, Carmilla lets go of Danny’s arm and groans. She takes the soy milk carton once again and chugs whatever’s left in it.
Danny furrows her brows, confused. “Weren’t we uh…doing something?” Carmilla quirks a brow in her direction. “Not that I want to get back to it! Just didn’t think you’d let me go so easily.”
Carmilla sighs. “Yeah, well. Zeta Asshole pissed me off more than I already am and let’s face it, if I actually kill you it’ll upset the little cupcake, so… You’re off the hook.” The vampire crumples the carton and tosses it in the garbage before heading back to her bed and flopping down on it. “But don’t think this means I’ve given up and you win. Regardless of what you say I’m not going to leave Laura alone. And don’t even _try_ to think that just because we both agree that Kirsch is a sexist asshole we’re some sort of _friends_ now. Because, sorry to burst your giant ginger bubble, but that’s never going to happen.”
Even though Carmilla’s voice is still dripping with anger and she believes every word the girl’s saying, Danny actually laughs. “Yeah well, the same goes for me,” she says. There’s a beat of silence before the girl bounces on her heels before starting walking out of the room. Carmilla’s voice stops her.
“Hey, Amazon?” Carmilla says, waiting for Danny to turn around and look at her. She gives her a smug ass grin. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” And with that, the brunette picks up the book at the end of her bed and begins reading.
She doesn’t miss out of the corner of her eye how Danny smiles in her direction before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> thank you everyone who read this little mini-fic! you all should go follow waltzing-in-1698 on tumblr, she's a fabulous person who posts a lot of carmilla and funny things. y'all be missing out if you ain't following her blog~
**Author's Note:**
> thank you again so much for reading! this fic was brought to you by the amazing waltzing-in-1698 and y'all should defs go follow her on tumblr~ |
fd5860bc36c0416a9109258834ee0075 | ['8ccf9a622dff46fca5e6c12860d9f3af'] | Something changed in Akechi’s eyes as he listened to Naoto’s promise. He had been focused on her before, but now he was _focused_ on her, studying her as if for the first time. He regarded her as not just as person, but as Naoto Shirogane, the ace detective. There was a respect in his eyes that had been missing before, a certain level of regard for Naoto’s intellect that he hadn’t possessed.
She had gotten her foot in the door with him, as planned.
His expression lasted for only a flash before he sat up in his chair and smiled, clapping his hands together a few times in genuine approval. “Impressive, Shirogane-san. You have an eye for the unusual, it seems. Your reputation is well deserved - just be sure to not focus so much on my case that you neglect your own.” He smiled, his tone telling Naoto that his chide was more joking than serious. He pushed his chair back and stood up, brushing himself off as he grabbed his briefcase. “Regrettably, I cannot stay and chat longer, as much as I would like to. Perhaps we can rendezvous next week, after this Medjed business is dealt with?”
Naoto nodded, smiling up at Akechi. “Of course, Akechi-san. Take care of yourself. Good luck on your case.”
With that, Akechi turned and left, walking out the front door. Naoto watched him leave, noting with some surprise that there was a difference in his stride. He was still confident, yes, but something about their encounter had changed him. Perhaps he thought he no longer needed to be as sure in himself. Perhaps he was mulling on how to handle someone as sharp as he was in the same building, though Sae was more than a match for him in that regard. Perhaps he was debating on what to do next. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
Naoto had bigger concerns.
She opened up one of the files and got back to reading. She had some patterns to find.
* * *
Sae cut an impressive silhouette.
Naoto found herself transfixed, studying Sae as she was distracted, looking down at a file set on her desk. The light of the setting sun coming in through the window bathed the office in a warm orange glow, gorgeously falling upon Sae’s hair and softly illuminating her face. It gave her fair skin an unearthly, but incredibly attractive, glow - ochre-tinged gold, her naturally sharp features alluringly highlighted to Naoto’s focused gaze.
_She’s...incredible. Sharp as a blade, inlaid with silver and delicately polished to a mirror shine._
Sae was dangerous, but Naoto had played with fire enough to know the risks. She didn’t take them unless there was something worth gaining.
_...maybe there is._
Naoto stood and stretched, raising her arms up over her head and arching her back. Sae’s eyes flicked up at the movement, then looked - very deliberately, Naoto figured - back down at the paper. “Leaving, Shirogane-san?”
“Yes, I’m feeling a bit hungry and worn out. You’re staying?”
Sae nodded, flipping over a page and looking back down to the file. “There’s work to be done. I’ll see you Monday.”
Naoto picked up her briefcase and turned to go, then turned back - all part of the plan. “Are you hungry? I was going to get some food on the way home. Would you like to join me?”
Sae’s hand paused as she was flipping another page, and she glanced up at Naoto, her surprise evident on her face. “You want to get dinner...with me?”
“Of course I do.” Naoto made it sound casual, easy, matter-of-fact. Who wouldn’t want to get dinner with Sae Niijima? “There’s a good place not too far from here, great udon. I know there’s, as you said, work to be done, but everyone needs a break once in a while. You can’t do your best work if you’re exhausted and hungry.”
Sae hesitated, and Naoto could see the refusal on her lips, waiting to come out. Naoto was halfway through mentally composing what she was going to say next when Sae glanced at one of the pictures on her desk, sighed, and nodded. “You have a point. Very well, I suppose I could use some time away from the office.” She closed the folder and stood up, stretching in the same manner as Naoto just had.
This time, it was Naoto who stole a glance. Fortunately, Sae didn’t seem to notice as Naoto finally tore her eyes away from Sae’s lithe, curved form.
_...this could be a problem._
* * *
The beef bowl shop where she’d seen Kurusu several nights ago was open and sparsely populated, the few others who were there in the same position as Naoto and Sae - looking for a quick, but filling, bite to eat before heading home or back to work. Kurusu wasn’t here this time, a high school aged girl working in his place, just as efficiently.
The two picked a more secluded booth near the corner, placed their orders, and waited in silence. Sae, Naoto noticed, was as tense as she’d been in her office, almost like she’d never left. Her back was against the bench, with her arms folded and her legs crossed, and she kept glancing at her watch. All of it screamed that she didn’t want to be here, but Naoto was curious as to if it was a genuine desire to not be here, or a simple lack of experience in social interactions. | 430c5c1deb60427280cb65cac19ccfe0 | ['8ccf9a622dff46fca5e6c12860d9f3af'] | To the three gathered in Sae’s officer, however, it was a different story.
Sae Niijima was seated behind her desk, finger on her chin, looking at the witness statements. Naoto Shirogane was on the opposite side of the desk, studying at the autopsy report. Goro Akechi was leaning against one of the cabinets, looking at an older case file.
With a frustrated sigh, Sae flipped the folder closed and slapped it onto her desk. “I can’t believe this. The Phantom Thieves are running roughshod and the public doesn’t _ care _ !”
“Why would they?” Naoto asked as she turned another page. “They’re taking down bad guys the cops can’t touch. Everybody loves a good vigilante.”
Sae fixed Naoto with a glare. “Because this is about more than a few changes of hearts.”
“It’s about killing the principal of Shujin Academy,” Akechi said, following in Sae’s mental footsteps. “You think they did it.”
Naoto’s eyes widened as she looked from Akechi to Sae. “You can’t be serious. What makes you so sure they did this? What proof do we have?”
“Another Shujin target can’t be a coincidence,” Sae argued, looking at Naoto with a furious gaze. “It’s revenge. He was covering up the Kamoshida incidents, and they wanted to make an example of him.”
“You can’t just make wild accusations,” Naoto argued back, looking to Akechi for support. “We need evidence, Niijima-san. The only similarity between this case and the known Phantom Thieves incidents is Shujin. From what we’ve seen, the Phantom Thieves don’t kill.”
“They don’t. At least, not publically, but it fits the theory I’ve been working on - one I shared with Sae a month or so ago,” Akechi noted. “The Phantom Thieves as we know them are simply a front, a publicised arm of them that brags about their good deeds. Meanwhile, they’re free to perform mental shutdowns and other acts of domestic terrorism.”
It wasn’t a bad theory, to be honest. Naoto had to hand it to him that on one level, it made sense. “Then you believe the mental shutdowns, psychotic breakdowns, and changes of hearts are all related, and perpetrated by the same group?”
Akechi nodded. “As mentioned in our first meeting, I had considered the possibility - and now doubt, so had you, though you are of the thought that the Phantom Thieves are not the perpetrators of all three incidents.” At that, Naoto nodded.
_ So he hasn’t changed his mind, and neither have I. Both of us still lack proof, though. _
“But,” he said as he turned his attention to Sae, “Naoto is right. Would this accusation have anything to do with the Okumura Foods data you shared with me yesterday?”
Sae was silent for a moment, then she shook her head. “There’s no clear connection, but if the Phantom Thieves are the ones performing these mental shutdowns on behalf of Okumura Foods, there’s bound to be some kind of link.”
“So you’re jumping the gun,” Akechi said as he put a hand over his face, disappointed with Sae. “So unlike you, Sae-san. Plus you threatened that cafe owner with a custody battle.”
That was news to Naoto, who turned to look at Sae. She was determinedly not making eye contact. “That was for the sake of the case,” Sae said.
“You’re too aggressive, Sae-san,” Akechi chided. “We’re not police, and that’s police territory. If this comes back to haunt you later, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I don’t need your condescension, Akechi-san,” Sae said, a definite edge to her tone. The tension in the room had thickened significantly, and at this point, Naoto wasn’t even sure whose side she was on. “You’re far from the only person to have told me that.”
“Then you know how important it is that we stick to our methods.” Akechi pushed himself off of the wall, arms folded as he looked over the other two. “If we can just find out _ how _ the Phantom Thieves are doing it, we can get the police involved.”
Sae made a dismissive noise, brushing the air with her hand. “They can’t be caught by following the rules, so why should we? Our formalities have done nothing for us.”
Naoto could barely believe what she was hearing. Sae Niijima, stickler for justice and procedure, now willing to throw that all away? “Those formalities ensure that justice is delivered only to the deserving,” she declared. “If we break the rules, our evidence is useless, and for good reason - they protect us as well as our suspects.”
“Willing to break the rules to catch the bad guys, all in the name of justice...that sounds familiar, doesn’t it?” Akechi’s rhetorical question went mercifully unanswered. “We’re all on the side of the law, Sae-san. Let me know when you remember that.” Without another word, he picked up his briefcase and left, closing the door on his way out.
The silence reigned for a moment as Naoto waited for some kind of explanation, but none came. Sae, for better or worse, was set in her course. She was avoiding Naoto’s gaze, steadfastly looking down at the far edge of her desk.
“Very well then, Niijima-san. Good luck with the case. Call me if you need anything.” With that, Naoto followed Akechi out the door.
He was waiting for the elevator to arrive, staring at the indicator lights. Naoto got beside him. His small sigh after that was impossible to miss, and he turned to Naoto, downcast. “...thank you for your support, as unfortunate as the outcome was.”
Naoto nodded, looking up at him. “I hate to admit she’s right, but she’s right. They can’t be caught by normal means, or we would have by now. We don’t know their methods, we don’t know their targets in advance, and...what was that about Okumura Foods? And the cafe owner? What does he know?” |
15bbc9b697034776a5ac444727d0238d | ['8cd37fa769154e14a70b7aea7be02dfe'] | "But basically I just felt this pulse in our bond, it was like Red was almost purring or something at me." Keith explained happy to say his progress in bonding with his lion had come further. Lance smiling as he thought about how he could feel the pride coming off of Red at his paladin.
"That sounds awesome Keith! Maybe you'll even be able to like talk to Red like I can do with Blue soon!" He commented.
"You can't talk to the lions Lance, you're just crazy."
"You can too!" Lance defended himself with a whine. "You just aren't on my level yet." He huffed out as Keith snorted and gave a short laugh. His heart swelling with pride at the fact that he was the one to cause that laughter, even if it was at his own expense.
"Keep telling yourself that Lance." Shiro finally chimed in as they finished their load, heading back towards the castle where Hunk was watching over Pidge in the a pod. They only needed a hour or two to fix up their small wounds, but it still gave reason to worry about them to Hunk, so he stayed behind. Keith laughed more at Shiro's comment, making Lance pout further in his seat.
"You'll see. I'm not insane!" Lance huffed out as he landed and went off the communicators. "They'll know one day. Right Blue?" He asked up to her and received a loving purr that rumbled through his chest in response. Smiling Lance tiredly headed for his room and for his bathroom specifically. He needed one after a day like it had been. He found Keith and Shiro talking however, Shiro looking flustered slightly as Keith spoke to him. Lance pausing slightly to try and listen in... he couldn't make out the words, though when Keith finally headed out towards his own room, he had a wide smile on his face and a look of pure love on his face. The rumbling seemed to do little now as the pain in his chest came back in full swing and he coughed slightly. The small coughs however turned into full blown hacking as Lance ran to his room, shutting the door and heaving to get the petals out of his throat. Jealousy was a bitch, Lance thought.
But it was also killing him in a way.
To say Lance was scared would be incorrect. He didn't fear death, after all it came for everyone eventually and Humans just got the short end of the stick to only live for around eighty to a hundred years. Others, like Galrans, seemed to live for far longer, and so did Alteans (not counting the fact that Allura and Coran had been in basically cryopreservation of some kind), yet Humans got such a small window to live. Lance didn't fear death, he feared the manner in which he died. To be killed during battle would be painful at best, and torture at worst. The Galra was known for taking prisoners and warping their minds and bodies till they were begging for death even after being released from their control. So death by battle was not Lance's ideal situation. But to die of the dreaded flower disease? That almost seemed worse. To die knowing you weren't loved by the one you loved, and with roots finally holding all your lungs captive? That was terrifying to Lance. Yet he couldn't bare to get the surgery, not that it would do anything now anyway. The seeds had already implanted themselves in his lungs, and he was beyond the point of return. Almost full buds were being coughed up on a weekly basis now, he even coughed up a blood soaked bulb one time. Lance's fate was sealed now, if he didn't tell Keith he would die of this disease.
He thought up a solution however, one that would stall this disease so he could hopefully keep living until the war was won. He owed that to the team if nothing else, to live until they actually won this stupid war against the dick of an emperor. Blue would freeze his lungs essentially. Well, not freeze them into an ice block completely, but rather she would use her energy in order to slow down his body functions so he didn't have to breathe as much, and the roots would grow at a slower pace. His internal body temperature would be drastically lowered, but Lance didn't mind. So long as he didn't get too touchy with his teammates he would be fine.
Blue was the one to actually suggest the idea, taking advice from Green apparently, or at least that's what she told Lance one night. So he showed up bright and early to her hangar the day after agreeing to the process, tired of hacking up flower petals and feeling his body slowly dying. Blue was already prepared for him, having leaned down so her head was on the ground ready to work. Stepping inside the lion he put his bayard into its slot, and took a deep breath.
"Ready girl?" Lance called up a bit nervously. In response he received a low purr from his favorite mechanical lion, which soothed him to the core. Nodding softly he turned the bayard and sat back to watch as the cabin filled with an icy temperature. Shivering from the sudden cold, Lance watched as delicate patterns flew across her display, crystalline structures glazing across the entire cockpit in one smooth motion. Lance let out a shaky breathe seeing the small cloud puff out from his mouth, before he inhaled deeply. | 8578ec16758943609b46e900faa572d6 | ['8cd37fa769154e14a70b7aea7be02dfe'] |
Welcome Home Pups
Lance was honestly surprised this hadn't happened sooner and by accident. It was known to almost everyone in their friend group that Kuro was almost a sex demon with how often his ruts came. Something about his heritage or something, makes it so his ruts come at a very constant and irregular interval and this causes all kinds of hell for Lance's ass. Though, after years of being together with the other, he learned the tricks and kinks to make him tire out pretty quickly during his ruts, saving them both from an unnecessary amount of sex. It was hard at sometimes, to figure out what to do exactly in order to get Kuro to listen to him sometimes. It ranged from Lance having to put on his most revealing outfit that hugged all the curves of his body just right on to gain the other's attention, to having only to grab his face and he would listen. Though he noticed that within the past two years a trend had formed. Kuro's dirty talk almost seemed to revolve around the idea of getting Lance pregnant and full of pups. Granted when he was saying this he was wearing a condom, but still it made Lance's head spin in excitement and fear at he same time. He wasn't ready to become a parent... was he?
Sure he had watched Keith take parenthood in graceful strides, always seeming to know what to do, but he wasn't Keith. Lance didn't think he could be nearly a successful parent like him and Shiro were to little Akira. Granted that Akira was a golden baby anyway. He never seemed to cry or get upset like most pups did, plus he was already walking only a little more than half way to his first deca-phoeb of being alive! Hell whose pup is walking in the equivalent of 6 human months?! It was unheard of!! Granted galran pups did mature at a much faster rate than most species... But still. It just seemed to stack up to Lance that Keith's family was perfect and he and Kuro were... were just broken in a way. Both he and Kuro had faced hardship in their lives. Kuro with his brother Shiro, along with being Altean, and Lance while trying to fit into a world built for Alphas. Omegas were the rarer of the species after all, both him and Keith having to hide their second gender from the coalition for a long time, Keith hiding his since he presented basically. Scent blockers and hormone control pills being passed between the two on a regular basis, though it became apparent that both were not Alphas or even Betas when Shiro and Kuro came around. Prime Alphas had an unnatural ability to detect even the smallest of scent changes, and the pair were found out almost immediately. Granted it worked out well for Keith, Lance however, had to prove his worth almost every week of being there until finally he showed his prowess in gun fire and sniping.
But back to Lance's fatherhood thoughts.
Lance knew Kuro wanted to be a father but was he ready to be one? To give birth? To even be pregnant? Galran pregnancies were well known to be difficult, and the child would be a fourth Altean as well. Kuro was constantly ridiculed for it by some, would their child have to suffer through that too? No. Lance wouldn't allow anyone to pick on his pups, just like he didn't tolerate anyone picking on his mate. Alphas may be known as the 'leader' type but anyone who had ever met an Omega knew they were the protection, the support, and caregiver of their pack. Intensely protective, and down right frightening if someone dared to hurt their mate, pup, or pack member. Kuro was all bark and a small bit bite, but Lance was all bite with little bark in him. Not to say that Kuro couldn't protect him or anyone else, god no. Kuro was built like a god in Lance's mind, and could probably take on the Emperor himself and win, but Lance wasn't there for glory. He was there to kill, to protect, to make known that if they dare touch his mate or pups they weren't going to see the light of a star ever again.
Part of the reason Lance even fell in love with Kuro was because of how the elder acted, like a big adorable pup more than a scary galran. He loved the way Kuro's hair would fluff up when Lance came in the room with his natural scent splaying out, how he would bounce around excitedly and cause general mischief. He just.. he fell hard to Kuro. And Kuro fell hard for him, so it was natural that the once 'bros' became a little more than just bros. But they both loved it. And now... well it had been almost 6 deca-phoeb since he met Kuro, and for two of those he had been begging, yearning for a pup. If Kuro was ready to figure this out, parenting and all, then... Lance supposed he would be too. |
d8a0d7440d7f4637a3f5de542d72221f | ['8cda4768866343a5bacf5d0c8e221fbd'] | “Sure,” Even answers reaching for Isak’s candy but Isak pulls it out of reach while stepping closer to Even. Going on his toes, he leans up brushing is lips against Even’s, once, twice, three times, his eyes open to watch Even’s reaction, taking in the way Even’s eyes widen and his breath shortens. Isak starts to lean back down when Even is spurted into action, his large hands come up and cradle Isak’s head, his fingers sinking into Isak’s hair, his lips slated over Isak’s, making a noise as he chases the sweet taste in Isak’s mouth.
Isak sighs into the kiss, his hands going to Even’s sides to steady himself, suddenly feeling lightheaded as Even takes his time with the kiss.
When Even pulls back, he keeps his forehead pressed against Isak’s, his nose brushing his and he smiles that same wide sunny happy smile he gave Isak the first time on the pitch. “You’re right, tastes much better.”
*
Isak is sitting with Jonas, Magnus, and Mahdi for breakfast, this time at the Slytherin table which is buzzing excitement for the upcoming match versus Ravenclaw.
“We’re going to see your man in action today,” Magnus comments excited, ever since Isak had officially introduced Even to his friends after their Hogsmeade date, Magnus has become Even’s number one fan.
“You’re going to root for me, right?”
Isak turns around in his seat to find Even already dressed in his quidditch uniform standing behind him, his expression warm as he looks down at Isak, it’s been over a week since their date and they’ve spend every free moment together and yet Isak can’t believe this boy with his pretty blue eyes always gentle for him is for him to keep.
“Hi, Even!” Magnus greets him loudly, interrupting Isak and Even’s staring. Isak watches as Even looks amused at his friend and greets him back, extending his hellos to Jonas and Mahdi who nod at him. Even straddles the bench Isak is sitting on, leaning in close to him.
“So,” Even starts, his expression teasing. “You _are_ going to root for me, right?”
“Root for you?” Isak repeats in a mocking tone. "Against my own house? I know loyalty isn't the first trait you think of when you hear Slytherin, but I assure you we are, sorry but I'll be rooting for you to fall off your broom."
Even laughs loudly at that, drawing the attention of a few students. "That not very nice, Isak."
"It is very Slytherin though," Isak answers with a grin of his own.
“Some of your housemates hissed at me as I made my way over here,” Even confesses, giving Isak an exaggerated wide-eyed scared look.
“Slytherin,” Isak repeats slowly, smirking when Even huffs. “But don’t worry Magnus will be your personal cheerleader today,” Isak continues, laughing when Magnus nods rapidly.
“Thanks, man,” Even answers, extending his arm around Isak to give Magnus a fist bump. Isak takes advantage of how close it puts Even to him, that he leans in and presses a soft kiss against Even’s jaw. He smiles against the skin as Even brings his arm around Isak, pulling him close. He kisses him again, this time at the corner of Even’s mouth, enjoying the way it makes Even smile.
“Good luck,” he whispers against Even’s lips.
“Thank you,” Even whispers, giving him a soft lingering kiss before he stands up and walks away.
Isak watches as he walks over to his teammates who are waiting for him. When he turns around he finds more than one person staring his way, but he doesn’t mind, he’s gotten used to the stares for a long time ago, instead he looks at his friends, rolling his eyes at the amused smiles they are giving him.
“You two are sickening,” Mahdi teases earning a nod from Jonas. It makes Isak laugh happily.
*
They head for the pitch each going for their respective stands, by the time Isak has taken a seat, the teams are already on their brooms circling the pitch waiting for the whistle to be blown. As soon its blows there is loud cheering in the stands as Slytherin grabs the quaffle first, followed by hissing and booing when Even manages to recover the ball and heads for the hoops, the booing in the Slytherin stands gets louder as he scores, but Isak allows himself a smile at Even’s skill.
The game continues, each team evenly matched and always within a couple of points from each other, Isak can see the seekers searching for the golden snitch hoping to win and end the game for their team. Isak is more than ready for the game to finish. He loves his house and is proud to be Slytherin but he knows how aggressive they are about winning and now that they have realized just how good Even is at scoring, he’s become their focus, more than once a Slytherin player has tried to throw him off his broom and if the game drags any longer he has a feeling they are going to get their way.
Isak isn’t done thinking that when a Slytherin beater hits a bludger straight for Even, Isak watches in horror as Even who hasn’t noticed the ball headed for him gets slammed from behind. | b1ebd70d8f5a41bdb7c3457753e23b27 | ['8cda4768866343a5bacf5d0c8e221fbd'] | “Sure,” Eskild answers at a loss for words, a first for him.
Even nods as he goes back to the shove, turning down the heat.
The kitchen is quiet for a moment, but just for a moment.
"So, let me get this straight," Eskild starts his voice full of uncontrolled glee and Isak sighs because of course, Eskild would bounce back from his shock quickly. "You hook up with a guy for the first time, and right out of the bat, you bag yourself a 10 out of 10 hottie and he's cooking you breakfast?"
Isak looks from Eskild to Even who is still poking at the scrambled eggs, his shoulder shaking with silent laughter and shrugs, if Even can be suave then Isak can bullshit his way through this too. "I'm awesome at being gay?" He answers boldly.
"And you just said you are gay, without shame," Eskild marvel, his eyes welling up as he takes a step forward towards Isak. Isak lets out a yelp when Eskild pulls him into a crushing hug. "I feel like a proud uncle while being incredibly envious of your good fortune, he's seriously hot, Isak, like _fire_."
"He's also not deaf, he can hear you," Isak says, letting out a sigh of relief when Eskild finally let’s go of him.
"It's not like he doesn't know he's hot, Isak," Eskild answers, his tone patronizing. "He's probably seen his face in a mirror at some point in his life.”
Even snorts at that, flashing a smile over his shoulder at both of them.
" _Christ_ ," Eskild mutters as he leans heavily against the counter.
"Can you stop drooling over my-" Isak stops, his eyes widening, blushing when Even turns around to look at him, a smirk playing on his lips.
" _Ohhh_ ," Eskild teases, clapping his hands in excitement. "You were going to say, boyfriend!"
Isak blushes hotly at that, looking down.
"We haven't discussed it yet," Even intervenes, he's smiling tenderly in Isak's direction when Isak sneaks a look at him from under his lashes. "But I think I have a good chance of convincing him to give me the title."
Isak looks back up and smiles at Even, which he returns. Eskild who is watching it all unfold in rapt attention, grins.
“I like you,” he declares causing Even and Isak to break their staring contest. “You can stay.”
*
Isak makes it to his locker five minutes before the first class of the day ends. After breakfast, which was actually nice even though Eskild took every opportunity to tease and ask inappropriate questions, Even and Isak had wasted a few more minutes exchanging kisses before going their separate ways.
Isak is grateful for the quiet halls, he’s sure his lips are red and his hair messier than ever, but he smiles to himself as he thinks about the reason.
His phone peeps and his smile widens when he sees Even’s name on the screen, opening his text he finds random emojis, hearts, heart eyes, kissy face and finally because Even is an oddball, an eggplant. He’s so busy smiling down at his phone he doesn’t notice who is walking up to him.
“So, you really are a homo.”
Isak grips his phone tightly at the hateful voice, he looks at the text once more and takes a calming breath as he closes his phone and looks up to find Emma, her usually pretty face in a sneer, the glint in her eyes mean as she stares at him.
“Hello, Emma,” he says instead of answering her question, punching in the code to his locker.
“You aren’t going to defend yourself?” she continues, persistent.
Isak shrugs as he pops the locker open on the first try, he pulls the books he needs for next class before looking at her, making sure he’s locked eyes with her before speaking. “I don’t have to, I’m gay, I like boys, there’s nothing I need to defend because there is nothing wrong with it, next?”
Emma seems to flounders at that for a moment, but as she crosses her arms in a defensive position, Isak knows she’s not done and yet he’s no longer afraid of what she might think or say and his lip quirks at the thought. He’s finally being honest with his true self and it feels good. And no 1st year is going to take that away from him.
“Everyone at school knows,” she taunts a smirk on her face but wavers when he laughs.
“Oh, Emma,” he starts mockingly. “I knew that would happen since before I left the party, you’re very good at getting the word out, but I guess I should thank you, saves me the trouble of having to do it myself. I had thought of a big banner but now I don’t have to make it, I can be lazy.”
Emma huffs at that. “If you didn’t want people to know you shouldn’t have made out with that guy.”
“No, I never should have made out with you,” Isak corrects, raising a hand to stop her when she opens her mouth to answer back. “I am sorry for that because I lead you on, I shouldn’t have kissed you when I knew I wasn’t into it and I shouldn’t have kissed you because you aren’t a nice person.”
“I-“
“Still talking,” he interrupts. “You might want to work on that or not, not really my problem. My problem was being afraid of admitting what I am because I thought it was wrong, I know now that it’s not, so I’m done being afraid and I’m also done with this conversation. What so you say we just ignore each other from now on, that good for you?”
When she doesn’t answer, he smiles as he closes his locker. “Good, see ya, Emma.” |
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